#even if it was fake movie drowning with splashing and crying out for help

[optimisticllamathing]

I usually consider myself a romantic, unless I see a couple while lifeguarding, in which case I revert into saiki k and his annoyed face

[seekerseekingchaser]

we're starting over I'm angry

I just figured out the "keep reading" thing and I'm so mad I cant breathe

I am old and dumb don't look at me

I wrote a Villain Deku one shot inspired by one of my favorite cosplayers on tiktok. This is my first time posting one on tumblr so please BE GENTLE WITH ME-

CW: Violence, stalking, blood, murder

This is not smut so don't get your horny little hopes up

Here goes nothing:

For Ray

(TikTok: Raychiie27)

An exceedingly inspirational Villain Deku

What happened? You might want to know. Who did this to you?

I can give you an answer, but that doesn’t mean you’ll like it.

I remember those days at UA so well; Kirishima’s laugh, Kacchan’s grudging friendship, Uraraka’s smile. Iida’s impatience.

Mom, eyes sparkling with tears of pride on my first day of UA, and every day after that, until the very end.

All Might’s hope, unwavering, the biggest joke of them all.

If I didn’t see it coming, they certainly didn’t.

I had wanted so badly to live up to their expectations of me. I worked so hard. The months-no, the years, all of them, all the ones of my life- spent studying, taking notes, watching Heroes win time and time again. The workouts. The reading. The conversations, the debates.

The blood, the sweat, the tears.

When did I lose it all?

I can’t tell you whether it came on suddenly, or was building up, deep down, over the years; I can only tell you that when the dam that was me finally burst, I didn’t just flood the city.

I swallowed them all whole.

The gun is heavy in my hands. Maybe because it’s new. Using my Quirk leaves too much evidence; a trail of talent that leads directly to me. Some twisted side of me wants the Commission to see this new crime scene and know exactly who did it. A more logical side of me wants the luxury of remaining anonymous, so that I can continue to run this city my way, do things the way I want them done. The rest of me doesn’t give a shit, only craves the blood, the rush, the control.

If I’m being reasonable: that part of me, the one that doesn’t require specifics, only destruction, should scare me.

It is a testament to how much I've changed that I remain impartial to it.

Here and now, I am beyond reason.

I can hear them coming, walking slowly up the street. Uraraka is laughing. For a moment, my heart stops beating.

How long has it been since I’ve heard Ururaka laugh?

I trailed her the day I faked my own death. I wanted to see what would happen, what she would feel. I left the faux crime scene and followed her all over the city, watching from afar as she knelt down and spoke earnestly to children on the sidewalks, laughed with their parents, helped an elderly lady or two across the street. I watched her fight villains, her Quirk stronger than ever, and I thought, you are going to be just fine.

I followed her home. I watched through the window as she answered her phone, likely one of our classmates giving her the news.

I still dream about how she screamed sometimes, how she fell to her knees and wailed.

I didn’t attend my own funeral, even from a distance, but I just know she said good things about me.

She always did.

What I didn’t see coming was him. Kacchan.

It was like he was waiting for me to die. The day after my funeral, he was on her front steps. After that, I don’t think he ever left.

It was a slow romance; I’d been “dead” for six months before he kissed her for the first time.

I remember watching it happen, from an alleyway. It was raining hard. They’d been to a movie. They ran together, splashing through puddles on the street, both of them laughing like kids. He held her hand. The minute they found cover under the tented entrance of a dive bar, he seized her and kissed her as though he were a man drowning and she was oxygen.

They’re engaged now.

Let me be clear: I faked my own suicide to dissapear. The day that my mother died, murdered in cold blood by Shigaraki, I died with her. This was not a cry for help, nor was it a desperate scheme for attention. This was, pure and simple, the way it was always going to go.

The day my pillar fell, everything I was, everything I’d strived to be, fell with her.

At first, I really was going to kill myself.

My reasoning was that I didn’t deserve to live, if I couldn’t even protect the ones who meant the most to me. It was then, as my world imploded around me, that I realized that everything, everything I had ever wanted, had been for nothing.

And so, I planned my own true death. Until I learned that All Might had been with her that day.

Sure, I’d known that they had been seeing each other since before my graduation. I didn’t mind- was thrilled, even, that they were together. What kid wouldn’t want their idol as part of their family? And not just their idol; the true Symbol of Peace, a famous protector of the innocent, to watch over their mother, make her smile, keep her safe, for the rest of her life?

A life that ended just under a year later, when Shigaraki finally found her.

He was looking for me; more so, he was looking to wound me, deeply. An act so violent, so cruel, that surely it would incapacitate me long enough for him to find me and bring me to my own end; thus securing his future, and the future of the Paranormal Liberation Front.

Maybe he thought that at the end, I wouldn’t care. Would beg for death, even, to end my shame of being a son unable to protect his mother.

He was close to being right.

He tried to kill All Might, too, but the Heroes got there in time to save him. Perhaps he killed her first because he also wanted All Might to suffer. If that was his goal, he succeeded. All Might was never the same. And after I confronted him for not being able to save her, and faked my own death, he gave up entirely.

I heard he moved away, taking refuge somewhere far away from here; a small farming town in Southern Japan.

I would’ve killed him, too, but I wanted him to suffer. Nobody wants to get up every morning, look at themselves in the mirror and know that they failed so thoroughly that it changed the course of the world.

But he did, and I need him to know that. I need him to suffer.

That’s the most important part of all of this, in my opinion, anyway. I spent so much time, my entire life, believing that good could defeat evil. I spent years wishing feverishly for a Quirk, any Quirk, that would make me as strong and capable as All Might, or any other Hero. When All Might chose me, I dedicated my life to him, to the Hero Commission, to my teachers and my friends who all held the same goal in mind- become the Good that triumphs over the Evil. Protect those who are weak by defeating those who are strong enough, or crazy enough, to defy the law. Keep everyone safe and save the day with a smile on my face.

I was so fucking stupid.

All that work for nothing. All those sacrifices, trials, and hardships to watch the man I looked up to the most lose the woman I loved most in this world in mere minutes, because he was too weak to win against the evils of this world.

And if it was that easy for the Symbol of Peace to lose, simultaneously costing me everything, what was the fucking point?

It’s all a lie, anyway. UA High School does nothing but churn out child soldiers to be chewed up and spit out by the Hero Commission, by society in general. They don’t give a shit about us, I can tell you that much, except for how much revenue we’re bringing in, how many Villains we capture for the media, how good we look on camera.

It’s all a lie. My entire life was a lie.

So no, I don’t regret who I am now. After all, this is how they made me, isn’t it? Indestructible, dangerous- hell, maybe even a little bit unhinged.

Thank you, Hero Commission, for turning me into someone who knows exactly how to not get caught.

I shake my head, rousing myself from these unpleasant thoughts, and stand, pushing my hair out of my eyes. They’re coming closer now. It’s time.

Standing perfectly still in the alleyway, I can hear them talking now- Kacchan’s low growl, Ururaka’s clear, high chatter. I don’t move as they pass by me, count to 100 before I begin to trail them through the familiar streets. It is a clear, cold night. Shockingly, you can see the stars even through the smog of the city.

A beautiful night to die.

I’ve spent months thinking about how to do this. Months of careful planning, of painstaking detail and doubt. I know that it has to happen, otherwise the voices in my head will never go away.

He replaced you so easily, they’ve been saying. And she let him.

She let him.

She let him.

The memories and heartache have long been pushed down and smothered. The only things that remain are anger and a pure, black need for vengeance.

Kacchan and Uraraka amble further down the street, turn a corner, where the streets become less commercial and more residential. Uraraka’s apartment is small, cozy, a haven to her. I know the warm yellow walls and the short cream carpet intimately- I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve slipped inside while they were asleep, walked the halls, ran my hands over the coats in the hallway closet; watched him hold her, watched her face twitch as she dreamed.

I have loved them both.

It takes a while for them to settle tonight. I remain under a window, cracked to let the cool air in, listening as Kacchan vents about the mysterious murders in the city, about how, no matter how hard they try, they cannot link the culprit. This makes me smile; at least I’m putting up a good chase.

“We’ll figure it out,” Uraraka promises. I can picture her running her fingers through his hair as they sit up in bed together, unleashing their worries before they sleep. “Whoever it is, they can’t run forever.”

“They’re doing a pretty good job of running now,” Kacchan mutters, then sighs. “I wish Deku were here.”

What?

Ururaka takes a minute to answer. When she finally does, it’s a whisper. “Me, too.”

“He was always so relentless, so annoyingly single-minded. It pissed me off,” Kacchan admits, “but he always got the job done.”

There is silence, and then a sniffle.

“Hey, hey…” Kacchan’s voice turns urgent, softens. “I’m sorry, Ochako. I didn’t mean to…”

“I miss him.”

“I know. I know.” He falls silent for a few seconds. “I do, too.”

Ururaka clears her throat. “Come on, let’s go to sleep.” She doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, doesn’t want to remember. Maybe she doesn’t want to start in on the mental list of regrets.

Soon she won’t have to.

They fall asleep quickly, as always, but I wait another two hours before I slip inside. Usually I have to climb in through a window. Tonight, lucky me, they’ve forgotten to lock the back door.

The apartment is silent except for the hum of the fan, something Kacchan has always had to run at night, even in the dead of winter, in order to sleep. In front of the bed, in their room, is a large, overstuffed armchair. It sits beside the bureau. I’ve watched Kacchan sit in this chair a hundred times, talking to Ururaka as she fixes her hair, applies her makeup. It seems fitting to sink into it, sit back, cross my legs, and watch them sleep for a while. They look so young, so helpless. He is wrapped around her in his sleep, one hand strewn across her waist, the other folded underneath her head. He shifts in his sleep and pulls her closer. The diamond ring on her left hand glints as she moves with him, burrowing deeper under the covers.

I stare at the ring. All of the possibilities, everything my life could’ve become, fits inside that modest diamond. It sparkles at me in the moonlight streaming in through the window as if it is acknowledging me as a foe. My life for yours, it seems to say.

It’s time.

I kneel by the bed on Uraraka’s side and stroke her face gently with my knuckles. She is so warm. She comes awake in degrees, but finally, her eyelashes flutter open. She doesn’t move, only gazes at me, dazed.

When I smile at her, she whispers to me.

“Is this a dream?”

“I sure hope so, doll.”

“But you’re...you’re dead, Deku.”

“Not if you don’t want me to be.”

She is starting to wake up now, really coming awake, and sits up in bed. I follow her movements, straighten up with her. She senses the danger even if she doesn’t understand. I hide the gun at my side. At her side, Kacchan begins to wake up. I watch him, wait. He doesn’t take long; he bolts upright in bed, staring at me, appropriately, as though he has seen a ghost.

“Deku-?” His voice is strangled, ragged. His eyes are wide with fear, possibly, even, with hope.

I know exactly what I want to say to him after all these months of waiting.

“Thanks for taking care of her, Kacchan. I’ll take care of her, now.” He doesn’t have time to answer or even process before I lift the gun and pull the trigger.

Ah, there it is.

The smell of the gun; the kick back in my hand, the ringing in my ears. Three bullet holes explode into Kacchan’s chest; he is dead before he hits the floor. When the ringing fades, I hear Uraraka screaming.

“Doll, can you keep it down?” I ask her, keeping my voice as low and as sweet as I can as the adrenaline rushes through my veins. I am heady with power, high on revenge. “I’m afraid you’ll wake the neighbors.”

She falls out of bed and crawls around to Kacchan, still screaming.

“Katsuki, Katsuki, please!”

“He can’t hear you, love.” I come around to the bloodstained side of the bed at a much more leisurely pace, stand there watching her as her world comes apart at the seams, much like mine did so many months ago. I know this grief; I have lived this grief. And now, I have become the living embodiment of it.

“Why- Deku, WHY?!” She screams at me, and then launches herself up and barrels towards me.

She manages to reach out and clip me across the face and once in the chest before I seize her wrists and pull her to me. Her unexpected violence angers me, brings out the very worst in me.

Goddamn it. Now I want to hurt her too.

She stops fighting as I grasp her chin and bring her face close to mine. I make sure she is looking me right in the eye before I answer her.

“Because for all those years, you promised it would be me. Me, and nobody else. I was dead for five seconds, and you jumped into bed with the guy who was supposed to be my best friend.”

She starts shaking her head. “This is a nightmare. I’m dreaming. I’m-”

“Shut up and listen to me.” I dig my fingers harder into her chin. “He’s gone. But I’m still here, baby. I’m here.” I seize her hand and press it to my chest, offer my wildly beating heart up to her, a sacrifice, a gift. “It can be just like it was,” I promise her. “Come away with me. They all think I’m dead. They’ll never know. We can run away, start over somewhere-”

“What is this? What are you?” She shoves away from me, backs up, trips over Kacchan’s body. “This can’t be real,” she repeats desperately, as though it’s a prayer. “You aren’t Deku. You aren’t real.”

“I’m as real as I ever was.” I squat in front of her, hold out my hand. “Please, Uraraka. We’ll forget all of this-”

“NO!” She screams, and kicks at my hand. “Get away from me, get away-”

I sigh, long and slow. I knew it would probably come to this. It’s not what I wanted, but it’s just as well. I had to try.

“Would you rather be with him?” I ask, softly. I think she has misunderstood me- she is thinking that I’m asking if she would rather be with Kacchan, alive, her preferred lover, the one she chose. Or maybe she really does believe this is all a nightmare, a crazy, stress-fueled dream that she will wake up from. Or, perhaps, she knows that this is real, and is simply choosing him anyway. Regardless of which reasoning is truly hers, Uraraka nods fervently and folds like a card, curling up against Kacchan’s lifeless, bleeding body.

His eyes, dull and blank, are looking up, still staring at me.

They watch me, together, as I sigh again, scrub a hand through my hair, and nod.

“Then be with him,” I tell her gently, as though I am bestowing a blessing on her, and then I pull the trigger.

I don’t stay long after that. There’s no point. Here is what matters: The ones who swore to never forget me, then replaced me anyway, are gone now- just as I have been to them.

The Heroes will be here soon, alongside the police. I stand and move for the door, still riding the high. By morning, it will be gone, and like all highs, I know that my next move will have to be even more impressive to beat this rush. In the moment, I feel as though I have peaked; tomorrow, I will be planning my next steps.

An endless hill to climb. A world’s worth of possibilities in bloodshed.

I walk out the back door, through an alleyway, down a deserted street. As I walk, I allow myself the luxury of tilting my head back, admiring the stars.

Are you up there now, together? Can you still see me?

Such a beautiful night.

[anxiety-n-chill]

Draft of My Ohmtoonz Fanfic

Chapter Warnings:

Homophobia, Cursing, Mention of shooting and guns and death, Mental Breakdown, Crying, Abuse, Anxiety, Insecurities.

____________________________________

    Sickness was not always physical. For example, depression.

I had always been a happy person, or at least I tried my best, but recently it's become impossible to even fake it. I know it's just petty internet shit, we all deal with haters, but it's not the same. These people seem to know me, know my weaknesses.

'Your shit sucks, Luke. Fucking quit already'.

'Faggot!'

'You and Ohmwrecker god fucking queers'.

'Your father must fucking be so disappointed'.

'Should've been aborted'.

Positive people, true fans, protected me in the replies, but it didn't help. These just struck me. It's like they knew...knew about my secrets.

My laptop interrupted my thoughts with the familiar ring of a Skype call. I debated on ignoring it, but keeping myself in this depressing slump would just make things worse. I scooted my chair away from my setup and grabbed the laptop off my bed. I briefly smiled and the little collage of bunny stickers.

Opening up, I see the call was from the one and only Ohmwrecker. With a breathy chuckle, I answer.

"Good day, Ohmie," I greet. As usual, Ohm had his camera turned off, and I returned it with my own camera off.

"Toonzy! How's you?" Ryan's little giggle sends another smile on my face.

"Good..." I swallow as the hate comments return in my mind. Ryan catches this somehow; he's one of my best friends, of course he would.

Ryan gets serious. "Don't lie to me, Luke. What's up, man?"

I sigh and admit I had read the hate comments on my recent video. This isn't the first time I've put myself through torment like this, and Ryan had comforted me then too.

"Oh, Luke," Ryan says quietly, "We talked about this. Maybe it's best to turn off the comments on videos if they're getting bad like that."

"It would raise questions from fans," I answer, "And I can't ignore the true fans. I just...I just wish I was so damn sensitive."

"You're not sensitive, Luke," Ryan comforts, "Maybe go over to Del's house for a bit. He'd certainly get your mind off things."

I debate this for a minute. It wouldn't be a bad idea, and I haven't hung out with Jon in a while.

"Yeah I think I will," I say, "I'll text him now. I'll call you later, maybe we can record? Oh, also, thanks for the bunny stickers."

I hear Ryan give another laugh.

"Of course, Toonzy. See ya."

"Love ya, man."

And with that, I end the call. I place the laptop back onto my bed and return to my setup. Grabbing my phone, I send a quick text to Jon.

'yo u open to hang?'

I doubted he would be awake at 2pm, but it was worth a shot. To my surprise, my phone dinged soon after I laid it down.

'helllll yeah! just cum ovr whenevr man'

'k, ill get there in about an hour'

'cool beans'

I lay my phone back down and look at my desktop. The comments were still open on the screen.

'Faggot'.

'Queer'.

'Burn in hell, gay bitch'.

I close the tab with a sharp inhale. Ryan is right, looking at these won't help. I need to get out.

Before I change my mind, I go get a pair of jeans and a clean shirt. Freshening up and splashing some water on my face calms me down a bit. I slide on my boots and grab my phone, then my keys.

I head out of my house, making sure to lock my door behind me. As I walk to the driver's side of my car, I reach over my hood to swat away the neighborhood stray cat off. It gives me a disapproving look and runs away into the hole of my neighbor's fence.

As soon as my car starts, a song softly starts to play though the speakers.

"Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones, and I will try to fix you."

That's depressing, too depression for me. I click the station off and connect it to Bluetooth, quickly restarting a podcast I had began last week.

Nothing interesting broke me from my depressing and lonely thoughts on the way over to Jon's. I guess the universe wants me to suffer.

The ride wasn't as long as I expected, guess I zoned out. Turning off my phone and car, I exit and make my way up to Jon's front door.

The doorbell was able to be faintly heard outside, though it was drowned out by the sound of pounding footsteps.

Jon opens the door wide and stands there with a big smile. "CARTOONZ," he laughs loudly.

Jon, surprisingly, was a lot taller than me, even taller than Bryce. He had black hair than stayed in a short buzz, and he has a bit of a stumble on his chin. His skin was very pale, and his eyes were a dark gray. Jon is a lanky fellow, but don't doubt his strength. He's a stubborn bitch.

"Hey, man," I chuckle and give him a quick hug. He closes the door behind me and leads me into his kitchen.

"Coke?" I nod and he tosses a Pepsi to me and grabs a 7up for himself. I silently disagree with his choice, but hey, he's a hater of Pepsi and is kink enough to keep some in his fridge for me.

"So what's good," he asks as he leaps up onto his counter to sit. I lean against on the counter beside him.

"Um..." I know I should talk to him about it, but Jon is like my little brother. I shouldn't put this all on him.

  "Ey man," Jon says more seriously, "What's wrong, Luke."

  I give him the same story as Ryan. My heart feels heavy again.

  Jon's knuckles are white at the edge of the countertop. "Fucking assholes. Wish I could teach em a lesson," he growls.

  "Jon, they're probably kids.." I say. Jon nods but is still tense.

  "I don't want anything to happen to you, Luke," he says quietly, "Not after high school."

  I gulp. I dated Jon's sister, Lucille, in high school, and me and Jon got close. Though her and I aren't together now, him and I still see each other as family. I grew up with depression, and Jon was there along with Lucille. They saw the worst of me.

  "I'm not a teen anymore," I mumble, "I should be able to handle this."

  "You aren't expect to handle shit! Lil fuckfaces shoulda grow up!" he says sternly. I smile a bit at his frustrated face.

  "I know, Jonny," I sigh, "but hey, they're not wrong..."

  Jon snorts, "They are. Bein' bi don't make you uh-uh fag!"

  I came out to Jon a bit after I left Lucille. It wasn't a rough breakup, even after dating for 8 years. We both knew it just wasn't for us as adults, more like a teen fling. Anyway, coming out to Jon was rough. He was accepting, and even told me he was gay. We cried together in our shared apartment. Afterwards, we drank cheep beer and played Mario cart.

  I give a little chuckle and Jon belts out a loud laugh. This is why this dumbfuck was my best friend. He can never fail to make me laugh.

"Hey, so me and Ohm wanna record t'night," I say after we calm down, "You up for some?" I see Jon dart his eyes for a second and bite the inside of his mouth. Fuck, what did this boy do now.

"Uh well I gots plans," he says awkwardly, "I promise Ev-Vanoss...that I'd play GTA." That's nothing unusual, so why is he all flustered?

"What's up, though? You're gettin all red," I ask with concern. Jon takes a chug from his 7up and swallows slowly to waste time.

"Uh...Vanoss wants to meet up."

"Oh shit," I gasp. Jon hasn't met the others- in person at least. Meaning they haven't seen his face. None of them know why he don't show his face expect me.

Bullies fucking suck.

"So...are you gonna?" I ask after a pause. Jon gulps and shrugs.

"I wanna...b-but ya know man," he sighs, "What if it gets online, or he expect something else."

I've heard this from Jon many times whenever he brings up fans wanting a face reveal. But this is different. This is his best friend Evan asking.

"Don't if you don't wanna 100%," I say, "I'll go with you if that'ul help." Jon nods and finishes his drink.

"I'll think about it."

After a few hours of watching movies and playing games, I say bye and head home. As soon as I do, a text lights up my phone.

'you home, toonz?'

I quickly unlock my phone to answer Ryan.

'yeah am now wuzzup?'

'bryce wants to play duo with me on some new game, trynna see what game you got in mind'

'uno?'

'I'm up for it, maybe he can join and put off his game'

'cool with me'

I head to my bedroom after grabbing a slice of pizza from last nights dinner. I open up my desktop and go to tumblr just to waste time as Ryan tries to convince Bryce to play.

- - -

So this is the first chapter (draft) and I would like opinions! There’s another little part after this that switches to Del’s POV with Vanoss n shit but I’m pretty solid on that. Feel free to criticize :3

[notagoodplace4gods]

[FIC] Beep beep

Summary: 

"I'm not afraid of you!" Richie tries, - god, he really does, - to fight back this time, but It just laughs at him.

"How many times do we have to beep you before you shut up for good, hmm, Richie?" Its hands are all over Richie's face, all over his mouth, and Richie can't talk, he can't breathe. "I think I'll do your friends a favor and just kill you." It laughs again, mouth opening and shining and Richie...

Richie wakes up.

A/N: ah, hurting my favorite character is my jam.

This fic is OT7, gen, but I’m tagging it as both reddie and stozier because I ship both ships, and idk they all just love each other so much

It’s on AO3, please comment!

Pennywise is dead, they've killed it, but Richie still wakes up screaming and crying.

It's not a big deal, he tries telling himself. After everything that had happened, they all have nightmares, it's normal, and they'll be gone soon. They have to be, god, Richie doesn't think he can take anymore of this. It's the third night in a row he dreams about Pennywise, and it's always the same thing. He's back into that creepy-ass doll room in Neibolt staring at a life sized Richie doll, eyes vacant, glasses broken, and mouth sewed shut. He tries running, he tries screaming, but no sounds escape him, he can't even open his mouth, it has been sewed shut and it hurts, god it hurts so much.

"Beep beep Richie" Pennywise laughs and laughs, his teeth getting sharper and bigger and... That's when he wakes up. To be safe, he doesn't try to go back to sleep, he just hugs his own legs, rocking back and forth, waiting for the sun to come out.

Getting ready for school feels stupid, it feels fake. It's like he's playing the role of a normal student who cares about normal things like getting good grades and making fun of his teachers. Everything feels empty now, but he does it anyway because he has to, because there's nothing left for him to do. It all feels like an outer body experience, he feels detached, like he's seeing things through somebody else's eyes and living somebody else's life and it's fake, fake, fake.

It gets better when he finds the losers, because they're real and, more importantly, they are Richie's. I did that. Richie breathes out, I made friends with them, I was the one who followed Stan around since our first day at school, I was the one who helped Bill, Eddie and Ben in the barrens, I took Bev out on a movie date and she taught me how to play with yo-yos, I nicknamed Mike "homeschool," I'm one of them and they're mine. You can't have them.

He doesn't know if he's saying it to Pennywise's ghost, trying to convince It, or if he's trying to convince himself.

"What's up losers?" He waves at his friends, receiving tons of greetings, smiles and a pat on the back from Mike, who's now attending high school with them. This. This is mine. He repeats it to himself, and he doesn't know why, but he's getting desperate, his heart beating fast on his chest and he's breathing hard, but he thinks it again and again, because it's important, they're important, and they make him important.

When he manages to calm down enough, he turns to his friends. They're all laughing from something Stan said, and Richie's sad that he missed it. Stan is really funny, and he doesn't even try to be. Richie, on the other hand, tries really hard.

"Stan the Man gets off a good one!" He tries, and it's loud, it's probably too loud, but he likes it loud, he needs to be loud so it can drown Pennywise's incessant "beep beep Richie beep beep Richie beep beep beep

"Beep beep Richie" Stan rolls his eyes, and the rest of the losers laughs so hard they don't see Richie physically flinch away from the words.

It's okay, Richie tells himself, it's just a joke, it's an old inside joke and it's funny. He takes a deep breath. They've always beeped him, it's not a big deal, he can't let Pennywise ruin this for him. Another deep breath and it's working. Besides, they're just trashing the trashmouth, it's not like they really mean it, right?

xxx

"I'm not afraid of you!" Richie tries, - god, he really does, - to fight back this time, but It just laughs at him.

"How many times do we have to beep you before you shut up for good, hmm, Richie?" Its hands are all over Richie's face, all over his mouth, and Richie can't talk, he can't breathe. "I think I'll do your friends a favor and just kill you." It laughs again, mouth opening and shining and Richie...

Richie wakes up.

xxx

"You look terrible." It's the first thing Eddie tells him next day at school.

"And you look amazing as always, my dear Eddie Spaghetti." Richie jokes, but Eddie just stares back at him; he's having none of it. But it's okay, Richie knows what to do. "I'm okay, Eds, I just didn't get much sleep, too busy fucking your mom!"

"Beep beep Richie." There it is. Richie was expecting it, he really was, but somehow it still hurts.

Shaking his head, Eddie turns and leaves, leaving Richie alone in the hallway.

xxx

The needle tores through his skin and Richie wants to scream. He wants to scream, but he can't move his lips, they're sewed shut. He wants to scream, but no sound leaves his mouth, and everything is quiet, everything is so quiet, except for the splashing of gray water as Pennywise dances in front of him.

xxx

Get the fuck over this. He has to spend a few minutes psyching himself up so he can stop freaking the fuck out. Bill, Bev, Stan, they all had so much worse than he did, and they're fine. All Richie had to deal with were a few missing posters, and creepy dolls, he got off easy, so he should be okay! He's gonna be okay, it's okay.

They hang by the quarry after school, and it is okay. They're all talking and joking around, and it is more than okay, it's good. Richie lights up a cigarette he stole from Bev, and closes his eyes as he takes a deep drag.

The next minute, the cigarette is gone from his fingers, and he opens his eyes to stare at Beverly. "I'm stealing it back, asshole." She says and takes a drag.

Richie's doing his irish cop voice before he can even think about it. It slips right off his tongue and he yells at Bev that he's gonna have to arrest her for this.

Beverly is smirking at him, but then Bill calls out, from behind her:

"Ss-sh-shut up, Richie!"

Richie's first thought is to crack a smile and answer with something like "as you wish, milord," but there's something inside his mind that keeps telling him that they aren't going to laugh. That they think it's annoying.

They think he's annoying.

So Richie just does them all a favor and shuts up.

xxx

Everything hurts. His lips are numb, from the pain and the cold. He can feel all the warmth leaving him as all his blood does and he wants to scream for help, he really does, but he can't.

"You're so loud!" Pennywise laughs at him. "Even with your mouth shut, you still manage to be loud! How do you do that?"

Richie swallows the sobs wrecking his throat in an attempt to stop them. Maybe if he's good, maybe if he's quiet, he'll survive this, so he tries. He tries so hard.

"Still loud." Pennywise whispers, as he leans close to Richie. "You breathe too fucking loud."

xxx

He dials Stan's number the moment he wakes up, before he can even fucking think about what he's doing. It rings once, twice, three, four times, and the constant ringing almost lures him back to sleep, but then Stan's voice brings him back to reality.

"Who is this?" Stan sounds tired and slightly annoyed.

Hang up, hang up, hang up. Richie's mind is screaming at him, but he's frozen to the spot.

"Today's a school night, asshole!" Richie can somehow hear Stan rolling his eyes over the phone.

He feels bad for waking Stan up on a school night, he does, but he doesn't regret calling him, not when the sound of Stan's voice fills him with warmth and calms his heart. He closes his eyes and basks on this feeling for a minute, and then...

"Richie?" Stan calls for him. "Richie, I know it's you, what's..."

He helplessly watches his hand slam the phone down so fast he hits his elbow against the table. It hurts, but what hurts more is that Stan recognized him and probably hates him for calling him this late. But how? He doesn't understand. He never said a thing, how could Stanley know it was him?"

"You breathe too loud." The wind whispers and Richie shivers.

xxx

Stan is after him the next day, but Richie denies everything. "Nah, I didn't call you, Staniel the maniel." God, he used that same joke last week, it's like he's not even trying anymore. "I can call you tonight but only if you promise to wear that red thong I love so much."

"Beep beep, Richie." Mike says, absently, and, fuck, not even sweet sweet Mike likes him. The smile freezes on Richie's face, he feels numb.

"Stop with the bullshit, Richie." Stan stops walking, turns to him and stares him down. Richie feels terribly self-conscious, completely aware of everything that's wrong with him. Well, for starters, there's the teeth, the nose, the thick glasses, and his stupid fucking face that begs someone to punch it, but those are old news. Now, not even his mom's makeup can hide the dark circles under his eyes, or the red around his mouth, where he desperately scratched it to get rid of the thread Pennywise sewed his mouth shut with during his nightmares. He knows Stan notices. Stan notices everything.

"Just tell me what's going on with you." Stan goes to grab his hands, and Richie flinches away so fast Stan is taken aback . "I... I... I'm worried, Rich."

"I'm okay, Stan. Promise." Richie lies, with a way too casual shrug and the frozen smile on his lips.

xxx

The ride to the quarry is quiet and awkward, and it's all because of him, Richie knows. Stan can't stop staring at him and everyone else notices, nobody says anything about it, though. Richie's not talking, no one's talking and it's the worst. I ruined them.

When they get there, Mike breaks the terrible, awful silence and begins talking about the twin kittens he just rescued, and everything is back to normal. Eddie is fretting over the diseases that cats can bring, Beverly is inviting herself over so she can get to know them, while Bill and Ben start talking names. Even Stan joins in after a few worried glances he sends Richie's way.

They're okay, Richie lets out a breath filled with relief, but it tastes bittersweet. They're okay, but I'm not. He should go before he ruins them for real.

He opens his mouth to excuse himself, but thinks better of it. He shuts up before anyone can tell him to, before It tells him to.

No one sees him leave.

xxx

Richie doesn't want to fall asleep, because he knows it's waiting for him, and no matter what he does, or how hard he tries, he's still so loud and annoying his friends leave him to die and, oh god, oh god, he just wants it to stop.

"Just stop talking once and for all." Pennywise whispers in his ears, and Richie doesn't even have any tears left to cry.

Richie has nothing left to do, but consider it. Maybe. Maybe he could. Maybe he should. It would be better for his friends and for everyone really, so maybe...

He suddenly opens his eyes, woken by pebbles being thrown at his window, but he doesn't remember falling asleep. He must have passed out from exhaustion, but still he feels tired. He feels so so tired. Another pebble hits his window, and Richie blinks awake, forcing himself to get up and move. He goes to the window and thinks he's still dreaming because all six of the losers are there.

"Ruh-Ruh-Richie let us in!" Bill asks and Eddie throws out a "yeah, asshole," while everyone else just nods.

Richie shouldn't. He knows he shouldn't, but he could never deny them anything, so he quietly goes down the stairs and opens the door for them.

"What the fuck, Richie?" Bev shoves him in the shoulder. But no one else dares to say anything else until they reach Richie's room.

"What she said." Ben points to Beverly. "Richie, why did you leave without telling us?"

You guys are better off without me. Richie doesn't say, he just shrugs.

"You know you can tell us anything, right?" Mike tries, and Richie nods. His friends are too good for him, and in return he just annoys the fuck out of them.

"T-t-talk to us, Ruh-ruh-Richie." Bill asks him and because it's Bill, strong, brave, loyal Bill, Richie tries his best to obey.

"What do you want me to say?" It's quiet, it's the quietest he manages, but it still annoys everyone.

"How about what the fuck is wrong with you?" Eddie yells, his voice turning high and desperate, and he's so angry, Bill has to hold him back.

"I... I'm sorry, Eds... Eddie." Richie remembers how much Eddie hates his stupid nicknames on time, and stops himself.

Eddie's mouth opens and closes, and then opens again. "Stop this shit, Richie." He's so angry, he's ready to fight, but he doesn't know who he can fight and that just makes him even angrier.

"I'm sorry!" Richie cries. "I'm so sorry, guys. Just... Just tell me what you want me to say, and I'll say it, I'll do whatever you want me to, I just... I know I'm annoying and loud, but I can do better, I can change, I know I can, so please..."

"What?"

"Richie!"

Everyone bursts out talking at the same time, and Richie knows he's made them angry, so he closes his eyes and takes a few steps back. "no, no, no, make it stop. Make. it. stop."

And suddenly it does. The room falls silent as arms wrap around him, and hold him tight. Richie opens his eyes and meets Stan's brown ones. His best friend dropped to his knees so he could hug him. "Richie." He's gentle, he's so very gentle. "What did It say to you?"

Someone gasps behind them at the mention of It, but Stan doesn't turn around. Richie has his entire focus, and it should be intimidating, but it isn't. Being this close to his best friend makes him feel safe.

"It...It told me...to..." Richie's sobs stop him, and he frantically fights to overcome them, breathing heavily. He doesn’t remember when he started crying.

"It's okay, honey, take your time." Beverly kneels down in front of them, resting her hand on his shoulder, Ben coming right after her. Everyone follows them, slowly getting closer, wanting to provide some comfort.

"We're your f-fr-friends." Bill takes one of Richie's hands, and Mike takes the other.

"Richie." Eddie says, and Richie immediately, instinctively turns to look at him. He's the only one still standing, his fists clenched and shaking. "Richie, please." He knows his friend is hurting, and there's no one for him to fight, unless he goes back to the sewers to kick Pennywise's corpse. He feels helpless, defeated.

Richie reaches for him, but stops in mid air, hesitating when he realizes what he's doing. Eddie doesn't hesitate, though, he meets Richie in the middle, throwing his arms around his friend's neck.

He's not the only one. Everyone's hugging Richie now, just like they've all hugged Bill in the sewers, after killing It.

It's dead, It's dead, It can't hurt us, not when we're together. Richie sobs again, but this time he feels a little better.

"I'm just..." After some time, he begins. "Remembering Neibolt, when we were separated." He looks at Bill, who only nods encouragingly. "It locked me in this creepy room with all these creepy dolls and clowns, and there was this... This coffin. It had my missing poster on it and when I opened it, I was inside." Ben squeezes his hand. "A doll version of me, I mean, but it had its lips sewed shut. And... Pennywise showed up seconds later and It kept beeping me and telling me to shut up and he was holding a needle and a thread and I..." He has to stop for a moment, remind himself to breathe. "Then Big Bill opened the door and saved me and I'm okay!" He talks quickly, wanting to get it over with.

"You're not." Beverly says softly, brushing his hair off of his eyes.

"I have nightmares, too." Stan says before Richie can lie.

"It... It hurts." Richie continues. "The needle, every night It sews my lips together, and tells me to shut the fuck up, and It really meant it. It wants me dead."

Nobody says anything, but the hands hold him tighter.

"And the worst thing is that I know It's right. I talk too much, I'm a fucking trashmouth and I annoy the fuck out of you guys, and you don't deserve... Maybe, maybe I should shut up. Like, for good."

The outrage is immediate. Mike and Bill sound shocked, Ben and Stan sound sad, Bev and Eddie sound angry. Eddie is suddenly on his feet, yelling. "IF YOU FUCKING DIE I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!"

Richie blinks at all of them, and then turns to Eddie. "That... doesn't even make sense. How can you kill me if I'm already dead?"

"Fucking watch me." Eddie bites back, the same moment Bev adds a "we'll find a way," and, suddenly laughter comes out of nowhere.

They're all surprised, and Richie is the most surprised to realize that he's the one laughing.

"Guys, I..." He doesn't know how to finish.

"Go on, Richie." Mike prompts him.

"I don't really have anything to say." Richie chews on the inside of his cheeks.

"That never stopped you before." Stan says, and it's so incredibly fond that Richie melts. "We want to listen to you."

"You guys don't have to..."

"We don't have to, but we want to." Ben corrects him.

"Fuck that fucking clown!" Bev groans. "It's wrong! It doesn't know anything about us!"

"It d-d-d-doesn't know how mu-much we love you, and your t-t-trash mouth." Bill completes her. "Tell us a-a-anything."

Richie's in awe. Fuck, he has the best friends ever, how did he accomplish that, what did he do to deserve them, what can he do to deserve them?

"I love you guys so much." He settles on telling the truth.

"We love you too, but go on." Bev smiles at him. "Proclaim your undying love for us, milord!" She's going for an english accent and it's horrible. Richie laughs, they all do, and right there, in his room, surrounded by so much love and affection, it's easy to find good things to say about them.

So he talks. He talks, and they listen.