#god forbid you admit that you did something shitty.

[khamomile-kitty]

oppenheimer is actually a great movie. the acting, cinematography, score and overall production was outstanding. it really did american prometheus justice. i don’t see how this propaganda when it is literally just telling his story. was he a good man? that’s not for me to judge. is he a massive part of the history of physics? of course he is. he changed the game and as someone who is currently studying mathematics and physics i greatly appreciate what he’s done for my field of study.

Y’all have to be baiting at this point this is insane. Leave me the fuck alone dipshit. You ignored both of my recent and easily seen posts abt this bc you were so desperate to justify your guilty pleasure to me. Do you not see how much of a loser that makes you. Just bc the dinner guests wear a mask doesn’t mean you don’t share a table w fascists. And frankly you talking abt something that harmed so many ppl, from the downwinders, the ppl in Mexico that they tested on, to the citizens—not soldiers, citizens—that are still affected by what this piece of shit did in such a casual manner tells me everything I need to know. You don’t see this as a tragedy, not really. It’s just another note in the history book for you. You’re far more enamored a the pissing contest the US and Soviet Russia were having. Christopher Nolan had no right to sensationalize this story, and ESPECIALLY when he outright rejected to have any other direct input from anyone ACTUALLY affected by the bomb. And if I may say, this attitude screams white apathy. YOU weren’t affected, and the ppl who were are far away, so why should you care? You’re all falling for what was a very common fascist talking point t after the bomb; that the US did something bad but uhhh LOOK new science!!!!! Sweep under the rug all the nasty ways it came into existence!!! And LOOK!!! Japan was bad too, so they must have deserved it!!! Don’t worry about the fact that it was dropped on citizens who could not control what their armies and governments did, that there were entire schools worth of children horrifically killed!!!!

All of you leave me the fuck alone I’m done being nice abt it. You all are a bunch of bigoted idiots.

[thebestsetter]

Thinking about Inumaki Toge being insecure about his speech (or the lack of thereof).

I feel like if he could trade a year of his life for sixty seconds without his cursed speech, he would. Without second thought. And specially because of you.

He's had a crush on you for a while (ever since your first encounter), but he'd never admit it. Not because he's scared of rejection, but because he's scared you'll reciprocate his feelings. Because he thinks you deserve better. Actually, scratch that: he knows you deserve better. You deserve someone so much better than him.

"And then you won't believe what he said! He said: 'I can't date you, cause I'm actually your brother!'"

"No way! That's the plot of the movie? How shitty!"

You deserve someone like Yuta. Someone who can make you laugh with their own words, someone who you don't need to strugle to understand what they're saying. Right now, you and Okkotsu are talking about some bad movie he watched. And you're laughing so hard and your laugh is so pretty it makes him wanna laugh too. He wants to engage on the conversation. He wants to say: "That's one of the worst plots I've ever seen! I can take you to the movies to see a real good movie if you'd like to"

But he can't. He can't, but Yuta can. He should let you go so you can be with someone who deserves you. He has no right to be this selfish, making you a slave of a love without any words of affection.

It feels like everytime he looks at you, there's a nagging voice in the back of his head, painfully reminding him that he can't be with you, and there's nothing he can do about it. It's an impossible love.

Hell, even Panda is making him feel envious and jealous. Even though he's literally a panda, at least he can talk to you. Sing your favorites songs with you. And he can't. At least not without cursing someone (and, God forbid, maybe even you. You're the last person he wants to harm)

He wanted you to confide in him just like how you confide in Maki. You always tell her everything. He wishes he, too, could be a source of relief. A shoulder you can rely on. But he can't. He can't, cause the best he could say in that situation is "Salmon", "Caviar" and other stupid onigiri ingredients that have nothing to do with the actual topic of the conversation. Honestly, he would be tired of himself if he was his friend. You don't have the obligation to understand his dialogue. Nobody does.

So, he comes to the conclusion that he should just avoid you. He should give up on loving you, because he doesn't want you to suffer.

"Toge, please! We haven't talked in days! Why did you suddenly stop talking to me?"

He stays silent. That's the only thing he can do, after all. He can't speak. He can't. But he wishes he could. He wishes he could tell you everything that's going through his head, tell you about how he feels like dying when he sees you playing a game with Itadori and Nobara because he knows he'll never be capable of doing that with you normally. If he speaks now, everything that'll come out of his mouth are foods. Speaking now would only remind him about the drift that exists between you both (and there's two options to avoid anyone's fall: you either close the gap or you widen it. He chose the latter)

"..."

"Inumaki, talk to me" (how sad. You want him to do exactly the only thing he can't do. That just makes him remember that he'll never be enough for you. Never)

Also, wow. You're using his last name. He got in a really bad situation, huh? How will he get out of this? How will he stop your (and also his) suffering?

There's only one way. And even though he swore that he'd never use his spell against you, he finds himself lowering his scarf with trembling hands.

"Leave. And don't look back."

~A/N: This is the fic I wrote that I mentioned on my last post!! I know a lot of people have writen abt this b4, so this is inspired by other stories I've read (if you've written something like this and want me to credit you, feel free to send me an ask!!). IT JUST FITS INUMAKI CHARACTER SO MUCHHH!! Like, I can totally imagine him being insecure about not being able to speak. I just thought I should give it a try cause I CAN'T FIND INUMAKI STUFF, so I took matters into my own hands. I don't realy like this, but I thought it would be a waste to not post it anyway

Masterlist

[cranberryjuice-posts]

Im only human can’t you see

Parings - clarisse x fem reader!

Tw’s- uh reader smokes weed, toxic relationship

Summary - clarisse thinks your shitty girlfriend doesn’t deserve you

She was furious. This day was supposed to be a normal calm day but the universe said fuck that when you came running into the ares cabin crying over your girlfriend.

Once again Ashlyn had said or done something to ruin your day and at this point, clarisse was over it.

“Just break up with her already” Clarisse scoffed and wiped the tears away from your eyes. You sniffed and shook your head.

“I can’t just do that Claire. I love Ashley” You frowned. “I know she doesn’t mean to hurt me, she loves me and I don’t want to hurt her”

Clarisse just rolled her eyes and continued to comfort you. “Oh please that’s a bunch of bullshit. So you don’t want to hurt her but the second she does something to hurt you it’s ok”

“I didn’t say that”

“Well that’s how you acting” she sighed and cupped your face with both her hands holding eye contact. “You.. are beautiful and kind and so fucking amazing…. And someone like Ashley doesn’t deserve you, you know you're worth Y/N so Stop letting her hurt you. trust me there’s multiple women lined up at your door waiting and begging to be with you”

You wiped your eyes and nodded letting clarisse pull you into a hug. Though you’d never admit it you always loved the bear hugs you would receive from her, the subtle hint of pinewood and fire ash brought you comfort.

Clarisse was sitting near polishing her spear and talking to some of her siblings, she looked over and scowled at the sight. You were on the sand volleyball court laughing as Ashley picked you up. What made the scene even worse was you bending down and kissing her. Clarisse gagged at the sight not understanding how you could kiss someone with such a venomous mouth.

You pulled away from Ashly and sighed. “Babe what’s wrong” she asked chuckling, you shook your head but Ashly rolled her eyes. “That’s really fucking annoying how you constantly shake your head never wanting to talk” she spoke sourly.

“Ash you know I didn’t mean it like that it’s nothing”

“Ok sure, It’s Fine what do I care god fucking forbid I was concerned” Ashley scoffed starting yet another argument, however, this time Clarisse was on standby.

“Where do you get off talking to her like that” clarisse stepped in between you two and towered over Ashley.

“Fuck off clarisse this isn’t your argument to bud into”

“Of Yeah? Because it kinda did when you started cussing at my friend” Clarisse leaned forward with a misleading smile.

You groaned and pushed clafisse back seperating the two. “Can you two not.. look she’s just upset over me not communicating properly it’s fine” you sighed and gently placed a hand on clarisses arm watching her calm down.

“Yeah cussing out your partner really setting the bar high on communication”

“Oh fuck you”

You grabbed Ashly’s arm and walked away with her, however you looked back for a moment to see clarisse.

Some hours had passend since the argument with Ashley and you decided now would be perfect to spend time with clarisse. The wind softly blew as you and clarisse sat on the ares cabin roof.. you took a long drag from the blunt before gently exhaling the smoke.

You looked over and smiled slightly as clarisse shit talked Your girlfriend. “I’m serious y/n, Ashley doesn’t deserve you why the hell do you still put up with her bullshit”

“I still put up with yours” you joked which earned you a dramatic eye-roll. “..Ashley actually ended things with me” clarisse looked back shocked.

“What..”

“Yeah uh.. she said i was ‘to much work’ ” You spoke distastefully and put the blunt out.. “you know it’s ironic, I was only with Ashley because she reminded me of you”

Clarisse scoffed “I’m nothing like that bitch” you gave her a look which made clarisse continue to complain as you chuckled.

“Look.. What I meant was that, I guess I’ve always had a crush on you but I always figured you wanted someone else like silena so I picked the next best option, Ashley” you shrugged and looked over, hidden shame and hurt in your eyes.

There was silence for what seemed forever.

“Really..” clafisse asked quietly with a flat tone. You nodded confirming your statement. “So it’ll be ok I do this then huh” you look up confused but was met with clarisse softly grabbing your face and kissing you.

Her calloused hands made light friction against your skin and her chapped lips were a stark contrast to your gentle ones. The kiss was slightly bad as clarisse struggled to figure out what to do, you giggled against her lips before wrapping your arms around her neck and leading the kiss showing the girl what to correctly do.

Her hands rubbed circles onto your waist, adding some tongue while the two continued to make out.

You pulled away smiling. “Gods I really fucking hated Ashley” clarisse laughed still high from the adrenaline. She leaned in to kiss you again not wanting to let you go..

You walked into the dining hall with clarisse holding your hand, your relationship finally becoming official as of the previous night.

You kissed her cheek and gently squeezed her hand enjoying how clarisse tried to keep a strong appearance and not look weak.

“You slut”

Clarisse turned around faster than you expected. Standing behind you was Ashley. “What were broken up for less than a day and your already fucking with this piece of shit”

“Oh your one to talk you-“ you put your hand on clarisses arm stepping between the Two. A position you swore you found yourself in often. You looked up at her and gave her a look telling her to cut it out.

After she gave a resentful sigh clarisse backed up. You turned around facing Ashley and crossed your arms. “Yeah I am, because gods forbid that I actually want someone who appericates and cares for me the way I want than someone like you who only cares about themselves. I mean common what the hell is wrong with you- instead of throwing a tantrum because I have a partner who wants me maybe start working on yourself so your next girlfriend doesn’t have to deal with your toxic bullshit” your tone flat and serious. After a moment you grabbed clarisses hand and lead her away while Ashley just scoffed and started to shit talk with her friends.

“Damn.. that was actually kind of hot”

“Shut up larue”

[papasmoke]

once again you got your little groupies patting on the ass and saying “no it’s ok you’re sooo right all the time dw” also the reading comprehension of you and your followers is piss fucking poor. You know exactly what you’re doing. We call ppl that associate w antisemetirs, antisemites. It’s not even abt dril anymore. It’s abt you being perfectly willing to ignore antisemetic dogwhistles if you like the guy doing it. The fact that you have provided any argument as to why it’s NOT antisemetic is also just. Yeah you know you’re wrong. Amd btw, I hope you get institionalizsed too, so you can realize how fucking awful it is and how ableist it is to say that to someone. Institutions are systems of oppression to disabled ppl, ESPECIALLY ppl w cluster b disorders. I should have to spell out and spoon feed why saying that to someone fucking sucks. There’s a difference between being mean for no reason and in defense of some shitty twitter guy than being mean bc someone just essentially told you “hey actually this isn’t antisemetic bc I say so and I like it. I hope you get placed in an i station and traumatized for the rest of your life lol.” But you won’t publish this, will you. God forbid you admit hey, “I did something shitty”.

You told me to kill myself because i screenshotted a sentence from the third ask you sent me where you assumed me not immediately publishing the second ask you sent me like i'm noam chompsky replying to every email meant that i was scared to admit defeat at the hands of your infallible logic and was looking to hide my secret rampant antisemitism. You come off like an indignant PTA mom and your spamming my inbox at 1am made me lose all interest in talking to you. Grow up you self-righteous colossal pussy.

[rickytickychow]

I don't even have words for Apology Tour, it was such a great follow-up (types so many words)

idk if Stolas understands how Out Of Nowhere this whole crystal thing was for Blitz. Like sure, it had been a few months, but Blitz was truly expecting a "same as always" kind of affair, misread Stolas's advances and got shut down and shut out the MINUTE he made that mistake. Stolas's little "thank you" speech was visibly genuinely confusing and horrifying to Blitz.

And then (AS BLITZ EXPECTED!!) the prince who supposedly loves him soooooo much walks away after ONE MISTAKE.

Also Stolas, annoyingly enough for Blitz, will never understand why Blitz feels looked down on and mistrusting until he acknowledges his objective place in hell's society. Stolas has never felt like he looks down on or demeans Blitz because he truly put the guy on a pedestal for so long. Now he's assuming that because Blitz didn't respond to his love confession mutually, Blitz didn't actually mean any of it. Bc God forbid your grand romantic gesture out of nowhere doesn't make the other person sweep you into their arms.

The amount of exes at Blitz's party shows how little patience he truly has for relationships despite trying to connect to others, but it's also showing us how much contempt and impatience people really do show him. Objectively, Blitz knows he's a difficult person. He doesn't know how to navigate his OWN feelings, much less someone else's. It's soooo funny to me how he does indeed end up at the "I hate Blitzø" party.

ALSO????

"I don't think you meant to hurt me, cuz I don't think it meant a thing at all"????? STOLAS DID YOU SEE ALL THE BULLSHIT HE DID FOR YOU I THINK IT MEANT SOMETHING TO HIM IDK

Blitz is not someone who does things he doesn't want to. He may have been hasty agreeing to the full moon deal, but he VERY CLEARLY enjoyed it and didn't want it to just... End.

And the Striker thing was also a low blow on Stolas's part. Moxxie and Millie saved his ass, taking BLITZ'S van after he already explained that Loona had an appointment that COULD NOT be missed. I can't imagine Blitz enjoys being in any given hospital longer than he has to. But despite the audience knowing what affects these things, Stolas does not.

This is kinda disjointed but while I feel bad for them both idk. I feel worse for Blitz bc Stolas has every opportunity to get better once he heals his emotional pain. Every Single one. He's still dealing with the divorce and moving sure, but he's a prince with magic, resources, and as Blitz pointed out, a nearly immortal body.

Blitz has all this inner turmoil and... None of that security. He has more to lose by letting people in. He's had to claw, fight, and drag himself for everything he currently has. It's hard for him to apologize because honestly? None of his actions are excused by this fact whatsoever, but he's owed a lot of apologies from people over the years, too. When he says "they're for pussies and no one deserves them anyway," I don't think he's just bitter about giving them. I think he's bitter about the idea of receiving them. Wanting someone to apologize means admitting they can hurt you. Blitz is well aware he can and has hurt others, but loath to admit when he is hurt.

For all his talk about not thinking Stolas can get hurt, Blitz is the one who actually acts like he's infallible - that makes others expect more from Blitz, but he will take them being angry at him over being perceived as weak or pitiable.

Stolas lovvvvves being weak and pitiable because he was expected to grow up quick, and the tragedy of that doesn't excuse his part here either. Anyone can agree that his attitude toward Blitz has taken a complete 180, with no visible effort to see things from Blitz's perspective. Sure, Blitz has been an angry asshole about it, but people seem to think that not showing anger makes whatever shitty behavior they choose automatically better. It doesn't.

I can't wait to see more about Blitz and Verosika too. It was really eye-opening for both Blitz and the audience to see that side of her. There's probably more to their breakup than her saying "I love you," but that being the catalyst for Blitz up and leaving is the WORST. That had to hurt, and even if he just felt unworthy/unable to say it back right away, Blitz should feel bad about just running away.

Since he plays things so close to his chest and acts aggressive, it's easy for everyone around Blitz to overlook any selfless actions and label him as angry and selfish. It's pretty heartbreaking how his relationship to the world and his trauma responses make him lean into the idea that he's a terrible person.

TLDR GREAT EPISODE WHOA these emotional disasters warm my heart (with rage ❤️). Welcome back Verosika lmao

[samrieimg]

It’s taking me forever to actually finish my WIPs current chapters, so have random slices from Sugar Lips since it’s been 8 months since I’ve uploaded a chapter, and I still have failed to write the first half of the chapter.

(Spoiler for the next chapter)

Wilbur felt his heart in his chest, and he settled his hand over it again. It was pulsing, nervous, filled with anticipation of something going so awfully wrong. Maybe something was going to go bad. He felt so sure in his gut it would. His mouth moved faster than his thoughts.

“Aren’t you worried I’m dangerous? Or crazy?”

“Should I be?”

“Yes.”

Phil huffed. He tapped his fingers against his steering wheel and said sardonically, “Tell you what, if you’re crazy and you’ve become a prolific serial killer, we deal with it at six in the morning rather than one.” Wilbur weakly chuckled. Phil managed a grin. “No, the real horror is what if I’ve become a serial killer. Nearly considered it a better career choice than GTA.”

Wilbur scoffed and he sunk into the seat of the car. “I don’t feel like I’m safe—that I’m a safe person.”

Phil considered it. “You’re not safe for yourself or everyone else?”

His reflection the side mirror looked terrible. His eyes were shadowed, eyes dilated with a feverish glint, his mouth bruised, his hair thrown about and clumped in such a way all his insecurities showed—his hairline, the possibility he might be balding, the acne or ingrown hair that worked its way near an edge. Something he was so painfully familiar with yet looked so strange.

“Both,” Wilbur said.

Phil hummed. “I’ve felt that way. Before I met Kristin, I stayed all cooped up, married to school, a shitty job, and gaming, God forbid I do anything more. I was miserable—I felt like shit most of the time, but it felt safer than risking giving up a quiet night in with something as draining as a bar. And then I met her, and I thought like a dumbass that being with a girl would fix everything wrong in my life.”

“It didn’t,” Wilbur guessed.

“I think I made her life slightly more difficult for a few months here and there,” Phil admitted. “So, I took small baby steps. I went out. Joined clubs. Made friends. Fucked up a lot. Definitely had my share of public embarrassments, especially when you dragged me to the bar”—Phil chuckled to himself at that— “but I don’t regret it. We still have quiet nights in.”

“But you’re…you,” Wilbur said. “I don’t know if I can change.”

“You won’t know until you try, Wilbur,” Phil said.

“Easier said than done,” Wilbur muttered, as Phil slowed to a stop, backing into a parking space in front of a nice, quaint, but not as horrendous as his own apartment complex.

“It is, but you’ve already started, haven’t you?” Phil said, and he stopped the car. Wilbur stared at his lap, the night hitting him. He wiped at his face as tears started pooling in his eyes. He was unable to swallow.

“No, no, Phil, I haven’t,” Wilbur said. Phil didn’t look at him right away, but he saw his eyes dart to him, then to the other cars parked. Phil leaned on his car door before he opened it.

“Then you can always start. You’ve had a rough night, haven’t you?”

...

(Also, have this scene i”ve had for like 2000000 years because its def needed) “Wilbur, you’re a genius. So, you clearly predicted my parents would read the next email sent to me, right? And your email threw them off,” Tommy said. “I thought you were serious for a moment and was really upset and angry, but I think that really sold it, and so my mom finally stopped bringing you up every spare second.” 

Wilbur swallowed, coughed. 

“Yeah.”

“But I know now! You did it because you knew they’d read it!” Tommy said, hooking an arm around his shoulders. “Don’t worry, Wilbur. I’m not upset anymore. You’re just a big genius man. Quackity had me make a new email and told me I couldn’t leave it auto-logged on, and so that’s the one I have to talk to the lawyer with. I also emailed Ranboo on it, and had him help me deciphering some of the laywer’s talk, because I didn’t want to admit to Quackity and the lawyer I don’t understand some of it.”

[youhavetogotocollege]

dating, etc

dating an artist with genuine talent might be one of the most infuriating things in the world. not because he's entitled or because he's snobby, but because he's better than me. in nearly every sense of the world he is better than me and that fucking sucks. he's smart, talented, funny, artistic, has sort of okay social skills, is reassuring...need i go on. he's currently listening to me write this and butting in every five seconds saying "you're all of those things" and "you really, really are" and "you're fantastic" and everything under the sun that could be related to that sentiment. maybe he's right, but i will never be able to admit that to myself. if i were to, you'd have to torture it out of me. now, dear audience, why am i breaking my three day silence to complain about my relationship, you ask? well, because i can. sorry, that was bitchy. or maybe it wasn't, who really cares at this point? i think my brain actually hates me. my boyfriend just said that he thinks that i'm a genius. who's gonna tell him that i want to stab myself repeatedly in the eyes and ears and mouth and nose (head, shoulders, knees, and toes, if you will) until my brain—and all other related aspects of my anatomy—turns into mush.

"do you really think that dating me is infuriating?" "well, you're better than me so..." "no i'm not." "well i can't draw for shit so yknow." "well i can't write." "well kill yourself."

that last part did not happen, but it would be funny if it did. i think dryly telling people to kill themselves is peak comedy, i guess. anyway. love my boyfriend to death, but i wish that when i looked at the things that i do in comparison to the things that he does, i could say that i have as many accomplishments as him. how many times has this motherfucker had his work published in a (school) newspaper? many more times than me, that's for sure. i guess you could count my "poem" that i wrote in junior year that was later put into a book that was sold on amazon exclusively by my school's 2020 valedictorian published, but i honestly don't know if that counts. it's something, i suppose. i just wish that i could use the power that i have as a microcelebrity in the chicano journalism community's nepotism grandchild to my advantage when it came to writing and putting myself out there, but i honestly don't think the chicano journalism community wants to hear my depressing, disorder, dystopian bullshit. i don't even write about being chicano anymore because i don't even know if i count.

my boyfriend has been silent for some time, dearest audience. i think it's because i've been droning on and on and on about my shitty, boring life. i don't think that me reading my own fucking diary entry out loud is his idea of a good date. honestly, i think it sounds like a nightmare for all parties involved. too bad, so sad, my name is not brad, whatever whatever whatever. i'm going to go back to actually communicating with my boyfriend now, because i'm bored of writing and of thinking and of breathing and i want him to shower me in compliments that i will brush off while hiding my face in my hands because god forbid he knows i appreciate the words that he says to me. haha, that's a joke. i hope you guys don't think that i'm a total cunt to my boyfriend, i'm just autistic and have a personality disorder. maybe that will be the death of me and they can write on my gravestone "rip [redacted], the biggest cunt in southern california's sweaty ass crack". anyway. that's all i have to say now. goodbye, audience of very few.

[goremet-chef]

maybe ill tell my mom im hungry? im so. my entire LIFE i have always always hated asking for things like so much so that i stopped asking for things on my BIRTHDAY because im like. terrified of being seen as selfish? idk its funny cuz parents will like. god forbid i get a treat when im a kid, then all the grown ups in my life look down and call me spoiled as if they didnt give me the treat, and they still think children arent capable of complex thought so they didnt anticipate that id internalize it for the rest of my life but here we are 😁😁

so i just. god i hate asking for things it makes me feel so shitty but i think shes gonna go somewhere anyways? and EVENTUALLY hes going to run out of things to cook so maybe if i ask she'll bring home some food (vent/rant)

that is one thing that always bothers me tho ive got? idk my mom is. shes my mom i guess, currently she treats me very nicely but when her bf was gone for a few years all that anger was directed at me so yknow. i guess shes over it? or she tries to make up for it, but if im not given an apology, i wont forgive or forget even. it was mutual, lots of arguing on the basis of politics at time, but sometimes it was just fucking nothing, to the point where she'd even admit that i didnt deserve that treatment its just. SIGHHHHH im over it at this point im just trying to get out atp yknow? but like

my sibling asks for LOTS of things. and they get all of them. money for computer parts? sure. money for literally any thing? sure. new game? sure

im not bitter about it, as long as my mom can afford it i dont care. but like....... whenever I ask for things, its usually a no

because of my BPD, i take rejection really hard, its the worst pain in the world so i kinda just stopped asking for anything at all to avoid the feeling. then they always are like "ohh what do you want for yr birthday we cant just get you nothing" but i actually DID ask for something on my birthday. i asked for a copy of pokemon black for the ds. it was the only thing ive directly asked for in years, and i didnt get it which is super embarrassing. like whats the point of bothering me about what i want if you dont listen to me when i do? they always get me what they THINK i want and its this really outdated version of me that doesnt even exist anymore, its makes me dissociate knowing thats what they see me as when im just not that anymore. even when i tell them its null

IDK its jsut a whole thing, idk how to feel about it anymore. its to the point where like. my friends take me out sometimes but i mean. they know im broke, they know i have no job, they know i have no income. but im terrified the entire time that theyre gonna like. ask me to pay or something, and i always do my best to just do nothing when we go out cuz i really like. even when they offer to get me things it makes me feel so fucking shitty man i feel like im just leeching off of them even when they offered. even when they tell me they like getting me things it just. it feels so bad. and GOD its embarrassing, when we're walking around stores and all im doing is just following them around because i have like FIVE DOLLARS in my pocket at most. things like that make me want to never leave my house again, it just sucks.

im jealous of them if im honest, because they have jobs and i dont. but i dont think? i genuinely am unsure id ever be able to get a job. im not well adjusted like them, im constantly dissociating, constantly tired, my sibling yesterday, i made a comment about my mom leaving without telling me at all and he was like "well she said she was leaving on the weekend didnt she?" like yes, she did, but i genuinely have no idea what day it is at any given point. all i know is the number, i dont know the day of the week ever.

like im so. fucked, im fucked! totally, even if i managed to get me shit together, relearn the days of the week, set a good sleep schedule, im fucked anyways because i dont know how to be a person at all. an interview sounds fucking terrifying, ESPECIALLY if i dont know the questions theyre going to ask. i do really REALLY poorly with actual human conversation, like its painful. and pretty much everyone around me thinks im kinda creepy or weird in some way, so theyd DEFINITELY be able to tell. i have no resume, i dont even know what that IS. like im so fucked!! i wasnt able to pass highschool, i cant partake in a conversation if i dont somehow have both sides planned perfectly.

little unsure about my odds, gotta be honest

but at the same time like? i keep hearing people say "if you cant work then get disability insurance" am i disabled? everyone around me tells me im just not trying hard enough. they laugh at me when i say i just cant. even if it covers mental illness, i? i dont know. im constantly in denial of things because my family specifically my mom like. a long time ago she told me i just couldnt be autistic, because im "too smart"

?????? it showed me immediately that she has absolutely no fucking idea what shes talking about ever, i bet she couldnt list more than 2 symptoms of autism like genuinely. im not even smart also????? maybe id be a genius, if i could retain information after 5 minutes 💀💀 its complete bullshit man, im just. im at a loss

and then they have the audacity to mock me for not knowing how to be a person in the world, when THEY shouldve taught me. it was THEIR job to help guide me through it, and they didnt. they laugh and roll their eyes and scoff when i tell them oh i dont know how to use a stove, i dont know what food stamps are i dont know how to dress for a job interview ETC

they expect ill know, that i wouldve jsut picked it up over time but surprise! i didnt. i need instruction i need CLEAR instruction and no one will give it to me. its so frustrating man, they suck ass and they just make me feel WORSE about myself. like good fucking god, give me a break

idk im just. exhausted. im tired of just cramming my problems down because the people around me are incapable of seeing me as anything other than a child, and children dont have problems, right? i have no right to complain if my backs constantly hurting, if im too tired to feed myself properly, if i cant leave my house for 2 seconds without feeling the deepest dread. like be so serious bro

i cant wait to fucking move out, but.. how? my friends said its okay if i cant always make enough money from art to pay rent, but no. i dont believe them at all. theyre just being nice to me and i dont even deserve that, i fucking refuse i cant just. im always dead weight, its so frustrating. it frustrates the people around me, too. i feel like such a fucking burden man, its so tiring. if its not things i just dont know how to do, its fear. oh i cant help clean the garage because its crawling with spiders, i cant take out the trash because the trash bins are crawling with spiders. i cant walk down the stairs because i saw a spider on the ground. they fucking hate me man

i know what they see me as, but i have no idea how to convince them that its not me. they think im rude because i dont know how to properly communicate, i say things and its rude to them and i feel bad because i didnt intend to come off that way. everyone thinks im selfish, they think im overdramatic. exaggerating. if they could live in my head for one day, they wouldnt think that anymore

its so exhausting because you dont even get any sort of sympathy from them! just like. awkward pity, and it makes me wish i was never born. never oh im sorry yr feeling that way, do you wanna talk about it? never

they see me as such an obvious burden but they? i dont know! i genuinely cant understand, they think i just have no complex emotions? they think i cant hear it, cant see it? they think i dont feel like a burden when they tell me i am. its so stupid

i cant stand being around anyone, and it just pushes me FURTHER into dissociation. ive got an interesting thing with that. see, typically when yr dissociate with a dissociative disorder like OSDD or DID, that hazy period in time opens up for another alter to front, you dissociate away and get tucked inside yr head. except i get maladaptive daydreams. so im fully dissociated in another world basically but im still physically present. its like i just always take up space thats never meant for me, in every conceivable way. i hate it.

i know, when i finish typing this, ill feel a lot better. which is just embarrassing, bpd fucking sucks. having no emotional permanence is EMBARRASSING when im over here crying on my knees about my problems and then the second i get it out i feel completely fine. it just makes me invalidate my very real emotions even further and its so.

im just. whatever.

just spit it out and stop looking that way

[barry-j-blupjeans]

can I please get a #17 with blup (with a side of taako, if you're feeling it), thank you, you're amazing

17. “I’m pretty sure she/he’s my soulmate.”

((fluff prompts here - still accepting!!))

--

There was rarely been a situation where Taako couldn't cheer Lup up. Ever since they were babies, he'd always at least been able to drag a smile out of her. One of their cousins- he can't remember which, but it was very earlier on- took them in when they were four. He, apparently, had been around for a while when they were babies, and much to Taako and Lup's endless four-year-old annoyance, he wouldn't stop pinching their cheeks and telling them how cute they had been. Taako didn't remember a lot of his stories, but he does remember that, according to their cousin, any time Lup would cry as a baby, Taako would flop over to her and hold onto her so tightly she'd just seem to forget what she was crying about.

That was his thing. He could make Lup laugh when no one else could. He could make her smile even on the really shitty days. She was the other half of his heart and never wanted to think about the idea that this neverending apocalypse might someday kill Lup, but not kill him. They had both died three times so far, but they had been together. Always together.

That rule couldn't be applied to the rest of the crew.

Lup was already up when Taako woke up. Though, judging by how she looked, she might not have slept at all. The bags under her eyes were pronounced and the edges of her eyes themselves were red. She was sitting at the desk in their quarters, resting her head on her hands, and looking down at one of Lucretia's journals.

Yesterday had been... rough, to put it nicely. They weren't very far into this cycle, but it had been a doozy so far. The whole concept of humans didn't exist on this plane. That in itself wasn't too unusual. They had come across planes missing different things that they considered to be "normal". Taako was still mourning the plane that had no idea what a strawberry was. A missing race wasn't too uncommon in the long run. It got them so weird stares when they went out, sure, but...

But not like this.

Taako felt shitty too if he was being honest. Seeing three of your friends get killed wasn't a great way to start the year off. He was kind of- processing it? Maybe? It hadn't really hit yet, he didn't think. Losing Magnus wasn't unusual, with all the stupid shit he got into, but Magnus, Lucretia, and Barry in one fatal swoop? Yikes.

"Hey," Taako said, sitting up. "You, uh... you good?"

"No," Lup said, not moving her eyes from the journal. "I'm not."

Okay, well, at least she could admit it. That had to count for something. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, walking the few steps it took to get to the desk. He hoisted himself up to sit on top of it.

The journal page was open to a drawing of Barry and Davenport tinkering with the engine. Taako drummed his fingers on the desk.

"You wanna talk about it, or?" Lup didn't respond. Taako hesitated for a second, and then said cheerfully, "so the locals here don't seem to like us very much."

"Please don't joke about it right now," Lup said. She put her head in the palms of her hands, sighing. "I'm- tired. Of this."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Lup said. "It's like, every time something good happens, we've gotta deal with ten other bad things. Like, gods-forbid we take a fuckin' cycle to rest because then half the crew gets blasted on the first day!" She pulled at her hair, groaning. "How the hell did we go from a beach paradise to this awful fucking world!? Like, what's the system? Or are we just gonna have to keep drawing random cards and watching everyone die?"

That was... a bit heavy for nine in the morning. Lup snapped the journal shut and thunked her head down onto the desk, defeated.

"This seems like... more than just them dying," Taako said slowly. Lup's hands gripped into a fist, but she didn't interrupt. "And I'm, uh, I'm gonna take a wager and say this is not because of something Luce did. Or Magnus."

"Barry didn't do anything," Lup said, muffled by the desk.

"I'm not saying he did something," Taako said. "I'm just saying that like, you- you've got like this thing with Barry-"

"I don't have a thing with Barry," Lup said.

"Mhhh," Taako said, unconvinced.

"I don't have a thing with Barry," Lup repeated, not even sounding sure of herself now. "It's just. A shitty situation."

"Right," Taako said. "And Merle doesn't have a thing with plants."

"Taako," Lup said, sitting up again. "Can you just- stop that? Like, you've been going on and on about Barry and me all the time and I just want like- a fucking second. Can I have a second?"

"Okay," Taako said, a little more subdued. Lup's shoulders slumped. He looked away, towards the floor, or the bed, or anywhere but Lup. "Okay, yeah. Sure. You can keep pretending it's not there-"

"Taako-"

"But like, it's not gonna do you any good! I'm just saying that the sooner you fuckin' own up to it, the sooner you can get all the hurt out of the way. That's all I'm saying."

"It's not that easy," Lup said.

"Uh-huh."

"Taako don't- don't do that."

"I'm not doing anything."

"You're-" Lup gestured to him. "Y'know."

Taako didn't say anything, now very interested in the pattern of their carpet. Lup sighed and pushed her chair out, turning to him. Taako pretended like he didn't want to look back. After a very uncomfortable and tense minute, Lup cleared her throat.

"I have a thing for Barry," she said. Taako glanced toward her, raising his eyebrows.

"And...?"

"And it sucks," Lup said, slumping down in her chair. "Because we all keep dying and shit. And he's human, so even if we do stop the Hunger, then we're just kinda like... there's not a lot of time left for him. Let alone us."

"And?" Taako prompted again.

"And I feel selfish," Lup said, which was not at all what Taako had expected her to say next. "I wish this situation had never existed, I wish the Hunger had never been made, but if I'm being honest, Taako? Completely honest? I'm glad I'm here because I never would have looked at Barry twice otherwise. He's one of the kindest, most intelligent people I know but I never would have given him a second thought back home. Every time he dies, I remember that in literally any other situation, I wouldn't care about him."

"But you do," Taako said, suddenly feeling a lot smaller. The whims of fate were unpredictable and impossible to understand. No one knew where they were going to be placed in life, but it was all just part of whatever plan fate had in mind. And for Lup? That was Barry. For Taako...?

"You're my heart, Taako," Lup said, placing a hand on his knee and squeezing. "You will always be a part of me and I will always be a part of you- but... I think Barry's my soulmate. I'm not incomplete with you, and I never have been, but he just... He fits me. You know?"

"I think so?" Taako said.

"I'm tired," Lup said, looking a little teary. "I'm tired of running and dying and all of that shit, but he's- he's worth it for me, Taako. I didn't know when he died last time, but I do now, and it's- it's kinda tearing me apart from the inside out. I don't know how to describe it."

"I think I got it," Taako said, a little more certain. "You..." He took a deep breath and Lup wiped away a tear, looking a little abashed. "You're really lucky it's Barry on the crew and not like, Greg Grimaldis or some shithead like that."

Lup snorted so hard she started coughing, leaning back on the desk chair and wheezing out little giggles. The pit in Taako's stomach closed up a little. His heart felt a little less heavy. Lup wiped away more tears, breaking out into laughter any time she looked over at him.

"I do think I get it though," Taako said as Lup started to calm down a little bit. "Not... exactly? I don't think I'm gonna get it exactly. But I trust you."

"I'm not trying to replace you," Lup said with a watery smile. "I could never."

"There's no one else like Taako, baeby," he said instead of I know, instead of I love you. For Lup, there was Barry. For Taako- well, Lup was right. They were already complete. Maybe Lup and Barry could slot in together nicely, but Taako couldn't bring himself to want anything like that as long as he had her. "You can't even try."

"Like I could ever even want to," Lup said.

[makeste]

I like Bakuguo but his attitude is starting to really piss me off. He's talking about Daku as if he's just ~crazy~ and as if he isn't partly to blame for Deku's toxic self-worth issues. It's infuriating to watch. If Bakuguo doesn’t admit out loud and in front of his friends that his bullying of Deku played a part in Deku's current destructive state and if he doesn’t verbally apologize and reaffirm Deku's worth then I can no longer like Bakuguo's character or Hori's writing.

tbh I don't really know why this is the discourse of choice for people all of a sudden, but this is already the second ask I've gotten about it, so I might as well address it lol.

I think fandom is conflating fanon!Deku and canon!Deku here again. fanon Deku is of course much more sensitive and woobified and has much shakier self-esteem. fanon Deku is the one that turns evil in so many AUs because of Kacchan's bullying. fanon Deku is the one that actually jumps off the roof in so many fics, as opposed to fishing his notebook back out of the pond a few minutes later grumbling about how Kacchan needs to think before he speaks or else he could land himself in serious shit one day if god forbid anyone actually does take his cruel words to heart.

and just to clarify before I get any further, I am not saying this to excuse Kacchan's actions in any way, because what he did was still completely terrible and unacceptable and WAY over the line, and what's more he knew it, too. the bullying was still shitty and horrible and awful, and definitely impacted Deku and made him miserable. I fully acknowledge that, and that Kacchan has a lot of atoning to do for it. this is not a "Kacchan did nothing wrong" post.

but that being said, I don't think canon Deku's reckless self-sacrificing nature actually has anything to do with the bullying. I think they're two completely separate things. canon Deku actually has pretty decent self-esteem in spite of everything Kacchan did to him. canon Deku doesn't think he is useless. canon Deku had a wholeass fight with Kacchan less than 10 chapters into the series in which he explicitly spelled it out for Kacchan that he had a lot of worth, and was going to prove it to him. canon Deku was persistent in wanting to become a hero and hoping and believing that he could find some way in spite of being quirkless. canon Deku never let go of that dream even when no one else supported it. I don't think he would have even given up on it after being told no by All Might, tbh -- we just never got to see how it would have played out because of everything that happened with the sludge monster shortly afterward. but he's not the type to ever give up on something that easily, and we've seen that. canon Deku never thought he was useless, but rather wanted to prove to everyone else that he wasn't.

the drive that Deku has to save and protect others even at the expense of his own safety is something entirely separate from that. he doesn't break his body for others simply because he has no self-esteem and thinks that his own life isn't important. he does it because he can't stand the thought of someone else getting hurt, and knowing that he could have done something to prevent it. it's as simple as that. like, Spider-Man has the whole "with great power comes great responsibility" thing, right? and he doesn't have low self-esteem; he simply believes that if he has the ability to help someone else, then he has a responsibility to help them. it's a personal creed. and Deku is based on Spider-Man. his philosophy is based on that philosophy, which was one of Horikoshi's core influences and is one of the core creeds in superhero fiction.

Deku is self-destructive not because he doesn't value himself, but because he is literally physically incapable of standing back and doing nothing if he knows that he can do something. he's the type of person who sees a car speeding towards someone and leaps in to push them out of the way. NOT because he wants to get himself fucking pancaked by a speeding car, but simply because he can't sit back and watch the other person get hurt without taking action. his body moves before he can think. and that's where the whole "doesn't take himself into account" thing comes in -- the fact that his thought process simply stops at "get them out of the way of the car", and never extends beyond that to "hey, and maybe I should try to find a way to do this that doesn't involve me getting hit in their place." to him, that's simply less important than the first priority, which is getting the other person out of the way.

and regarding that last part, while that may seem like a self-worth issue if he's prioritizing everyone else above himself, I think what it actually is just selflessness taken to extremes. like for instance, when a parent sacrifices themselves to save their child, them placing the child's life above their own isn't necessarily because they don't see themselves as having value. rather, it's that they love the child so much that they place their well-being even above their own. and that's what Deku is like as well. except that in his case he cares about EVERYONE, and so is willing to sacrifice himself for anyone. and that selflessness is his defining character trait, and simultaneously the most admirable and the most terrifying thing about him. it's both his greatest strength and his greatest weakness, which I think is fascinating to explore.

but anyway, so that's also why we never really see anyone thoroughly chewing him out for this behavior either. because the thing is, it is admirable how selfless he is. it's just that there's also a reason why most people are at least a little bit selfish. and that's because too much selflessness will ultimately and inevitably wind up getting you killed. at some point you either have to learn when to put the oxygen mask on yourself first, or else find yourself a loyal group of friends (or classmates) to watch your back, and make sure that mask gets on you when you need it. and maybe help you land the plane too while they're at it.

anyway so that was a lot of rambling, but basically it all boils down to three things:

when Deku berates himself for being useless (for instance at the end of the War arc), he's doing it out of frustration for not being able to push the others out of the way of the metaphorical car. that's the kind of uselessness he can't stand. the sitting-back-and-doing-nothing uselessness.

Kacchan's bullying was terrible, and it might have indeed played a part in Deku's choice of the word "useless" as a way of berating himself in these instances, but he is not the one who gave Deku this mindset of taking himself out of the equation. that's something that was already inherent to Deku from day one. (but that said, Kacchan has a lot of things to apologize to Deku for anyway, so if he wants to add this to the list I certainly won't stop him. he gets mad about Deku's suicidal attitude because it worries him, but that doesn't necessarily mean that he doesn't feel responsible for it. people underestimated his feelings of atonement before 284/285, and I think they're still underestimating him now.)

and lastly, one last important note, which is that Deku's current "saving" mindset isn't wrong, just as Kacchan's "winning" mindset was not wrong either. the lesson to be learned here is NOT that being selfless and wanting to save other people is bad. rather, it's the fact that he's trying to do it alone that's got him all fucked up right now. basically when you think about it, selflessness is really just selfishness on someone else's behalf. which means that in order for Deku to be saved, it isn't necessary for him to change his outlook or his selfless attitude, even if it is pretty crazy lol. rather, all he really needs is a good group of friends who are willing to act selfishly on his behalf in return. protecting each other through mutual selflessness lol. teamwork as self-preservation. hence why the U.A. kids are here now.

anyway so yeah, I think that's everything. sorry this got so long and out of control lol. this is just a very specific nuanced thing that's hard for me to express, but which I feel is very important when it comes to Deku's character. Kacchan didn't unleash Depressed Nomad Deku on the world (or at least not in this respect). but that being said, he and the others will hopefully be the ones to nudge him back on the right course again.

[mixelation]

Worst fandom takes: Itachi had more agency and responsibility for his crimes at thirteen than Orochimaru did for his crimes at thirty/forty-something.

Congratulations, this ask aged me by about ten years and made me go into my 2012-era reaction gif folder.

12/10 for how tired this take makes me, but... hm... 8/10 for rancid. Mostly I won't give it full rancid points because usually the "Orochimaru was just MANIPULATED by _____ factors!" crowd isn't like.... actively arguing what he did was okay (although they're like two steps away from this argument)? Nor do the weird "Itachi should have done XYZ!" people argue murdering children is okay. So I will not give full points.

But jfc, fandom. Why? The narrative does fucking backflips to make the Uchiha Massacre other people's responsibility in addition to Itachi's, and while I won't make the argument he was doing the best possible actions wrt to it, I don't think the story makes sense if Itachi thinks he has other options. He was thirteen, he was taught complete obedience to authority figures, and he was taught violence and murder are acceptable, viable solutions even if he personally doesn't like it. He was told "if you don't stop this, there WILL be a civil war" and "the solutions are either you kill everyone but your brother, or we'll kill everyone AND your brother." Does he hold responsibility for agreeing to murder? Yes. Were there other players actively pushing, supporting, commanding a thirteen year old to do this? ALSO YES, JFC

But, given how some Itachi stans want him to be a 100% morally pure uwu bean, I can kind of see why a person might get frustrated by that and push for Itachi having more culpability than the manga ultimately gave him. Like, the whole situation was deeply fucked up, and I do agree it's weird to completely absolve Itachi of it... especially given every other decision he makes about Sasuke afterwards. (What the FUCK, Itachi?) So while I am tired by less than nuanced takes on Itachi, this isn't driving the high rancid score.

But I do NOT get the fandom push to absolve Orochimaru of planning and then carrying out secret child experimentation projects, and then continuing them in Oto. Like, okay, you want Danzo to also be in on it because life is easier if there's one clear villain guy driving everything, alright. But do you really think Orochimaru, a full grown man and master manipulator, is somehow being brainwashed into.... doing something he genuinely seems interested in doing, and continues to do for the rest of the series? Like, at BEST, maybe Danzo was promising him he'd have support from above for ignoring the normal ethical standards. Orochimaru still chose to experiment on and murder children. You can argue he's Like This due to past trauma, sure, but other people had shitty childhoods and they don't murder children. Come on. The sorts of moral contortions you have to make to go "oh yeah, a full grown man wasn't at fault at all for things he literally planned and carried out while in a right state of mind--" is just exhausting. Also, by denying his responsibility for his own actions, you are just making him a less interesting character. Can we not do this?

Also god forbid you think both things at once. "Thirteen year olds should know better than to listen to the ninja president, but a full grown man should be able to have a hissy fit and murder children when his sensei is sort of mean to him." Actually, full 10/10 rancid if you're trying to argue both things at once, fandom. Please just admit you like one character and dislike another rather than twist yourself up in a pretzel trying to argue one is morally fine and the other is a moral failure.

EDIT: To clarify that last point, it is totally normal for the internal logic of your feelings on fictional people to be inconsistent. I definitely have characters I like because they're fucked up little guys and character I don't like because they're fucked up little guys, where the difference is shit like "one is FUN about it and the other isn't" or "one is pretty." But I think think if, in the same breath, you try to make a moral argument about two characters at once... please admit your standards are inconsistent because you like one more than the other (totally fair; I do this too), rather than trying to argue something that doesn't make sense and potentially just makes you go "children can't be manipulated but full grown men can :("

[serowotonin]

falling ; bakugou k.

pairing ( bakugou katsuki x fem!reader ) wordcount ( 2.4k ) genre ( fluff & basically pining )

↷ a hc-styled narrative describing the four stages bakugou katsuki goes through as he finds himself falling for you . . .

STAGE I ( impression ) ;

the first time bakugou laid eyes on you was during the entrance exam at UA. 

back then, you were just another face in the crowd of faces he was going to have to beat to earn his spot in UA

the first time bakugou spoke to you wasn’t memorable to him either

like with everyone else, he was loud and rude and made it very clear he wasn’t interested in playing friends

after that you became a part of the class, just another extra, someone who’d just get in the way

that was all he thought you were… 

until you kicked todoroki’s ass one day during training

the teachers had paired everyone in the class and told you to practice your 1-on-1 combat skills using your quirk 

bakugou, who was paired with kirishima went first

you and todoroki were to be the last pair

despite a good effort put up by kirishima, bakugou still ended up winning that round

when it was finally yours and todoroki’s turn, bakugou paid extra attention

in his mind, he knew todoroki was powerful and someone to watch out for

but what happened was quite unexpected

you maneuvered easily through todoroki’s attacks with a combination of physical prowess and creative usage of your quirk

let’s just say his ice didn’t work on you and he was caught off guard, allowing you to snatch a win 

needless to say, most of your classmates were a bit surprised at first

bakugou included

they knew you were strong but they didn’t know you were that skilled

whatever the rest of the class thought didn’t matter to bakugou though

all he knew was that now he had to keep an eye on you

STAGE II ( perspective ) ;

after that event, bakugou did indeed keep his eye on you

it started off with him observing your moves whenever the class had to do any training exercises 

he saw you fight with todoroki a couple more times after that

those didn’t end in easy victory for you as it did before because todoroki was now more wary of you

however, the way you evaded and countered his attacks was something to be praised

in bakugou’s subconscious opinion at least

your moves were carefully thought out and bakugou could see that

he could see the effort and practice you had put into perfecting them

not only that, he could also see the natural talent that you had to be able to become this strong

and it wasn’t only your fighting capabilities

you were also smart

maybe he hadn’t noticed it before but he did now

you seemed to always know the answer when a teacher called on you and your grades were great

slowly, but surely, you gained respect in his eyes 

if he knew one thing about you, it was that you were maybe the tiniest bit better than the other extras 

for a while it stayed like this, him acknowledging you but never making it obvious and you just doing your thing

that was of course until one day in the morning before class started

mina, kirishima, and sero were talking about things as they usually were and somehow the conversation led to you

they were talking about how strong and smart you were and going on about stuff

bakugou must’ve turned his head in their direction or something but mina noticed him listening so asked him cheekily what he thought of you

“y/n? of course they’re strong. anyone could see that.”

he said that pretty loudly and didn’t seem to notice you walking into the classroom

and of course you heard

“did my ears deceive or did the bakugou katsuki just praise me?” you teased

he was pretty embarrassed, blushing and sweating a bit but trying to hide it

soon after though, class started and the ordeal was forgotten

but something about that interaction led to you and bakugou becoming closer

closer in that instead of passing the other off as another strong classmate as you usually would, you’d actually greet each other and talk 

you’d say hello to him in the mornings and goodbye after school and he’d just grunt or nod your way

but this was what it meant to be close to bakugou anyway

during the weeks that passed, bakugou found himself noticing you even more

before he only paid attention to your skills and thought about you as an enemy or rival of sorts

now it seems as if he’s just noticing the little things about you and your personality that make you who you were

he wasn’t doing it on purpose god forbid

no no it was just him being unknowingly observant

weeks turned into months and months turned into years

in a blink of an eye, you were all well in your second year

with everything that happened, you and bakugou became close

close enough for you to tease him at random times and close enough for him to ask you to fight him as training

by then it was safe to say bakugou knew you

he knew the little quirks you had 

he knew your different smiles, your different laughs

he knew your favorite foods and your not so favorite ones

he knew the many different little things that made you you

STAGE III ( contradiction ) ;

before the start of the third year, the class decided to have a little get-together party of sorts

to celebrate the start of their last year in high school and to catch up as everyone’s been busy with internships and whatnot

you spent the break away from tokyo so it’s been a while since you saw the rest of the class

naturally you were excited to be able to meet them all casually again before the intense studying and training that awaited you all 

bakugou, on the other hand, wasn’t too excited

frankly, he could do without seeing the class before school

but when he heard you were going to be there, he also agreed to go

so there you two were with the rest of the class at a cinema buying drinks and popcorn before your movie started

the neon lights and the prospect of popcorn lit up your face and bakugou couldn’t help but stare

there was just something, something he couldn’t quite figure out

it’s not that you were beautiful, it’s not that you looked cute in that outfit, it’s not that your smile was making his heart flutter

no it wasnt any of that true though they may be

you just.. you looked nice

thats why he was staring

yeah he hasn’t seen you in a while and you come back looking *nice* 

of course he would stare

anyone would

apparently you had noticed him staring though, so you sent a wink and a grin his way before turning back to the popcorn and drinks

in other words, you killed him

with ridiculously high levels of cute and nice

kirishima and sero were just watching the whole thing happen and hell was it obvious to them

their boi was falling hard

now they knew he’d never admit it and they knew you weren’t likely to do anything about his “crush” even if it was obvious to you too

so…

while bakugou was busy helping you carry your popcorn, they devised a rather devious plan

operation: jelly burst

objective? none other than to make explody boiy jealous

for what reason? no reason really it’s just fun to mess with him and this is probably the first time he’s had this big a crush

once everyone finished buying popcorn and was walking into the cinema, operation: jelly burst was put into action

“hey y/n ! come sit next to me” — sero

so you did, nothing strange bout that, sero was a good of yours anyway, nothing strange at all

bakugou moved to come sit next to you too but kiri hurried past him and sat down on your other side before he could

“oh hey bakubro didn’t see ya there sorry”

the seat kirishima stole was the last seat on the aisle

and bakugou was forced to go sit somewhere else

alone

poor guy</3

the seat he found was a few rows above yours though and all went according to the jelly burst plan

by the end of the movie, bakugou was in the foulest mood and no one, except for the 2 lads sitting on either side of y/n, knew why

operation: jelly burst didnt end there though

see they got him jelly but they haven’t gotten him to burst

the next week at school, kirishima and sero both acted really nice to you

it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary but they did talk to you just a tad bit more than usual

either way bakugou noticed big time and he did not like it

he did not like it one bit

the jelly was there alright

it was just boiling to unprecedented levels

pretty soon, the boys dumped the idea of operation: jelly burst 

mainly cos it was taking too long 

but also because bakugou had become at least 10x more hostile

except to you of course

for some reason, a reason absolutely no one could figure out(sarcasm intended), he was just

quiet around you

didnt yell but didnt really talk to you either

whenever anyone else, kiri and sero especially, tried to talk to him though, he’d shout louder and be a lot ruder to them 

he’s just agitated

and he knew why he was that way

he’s just in denial about it

he’s also in denial about the reason why

why couldn’t he just accept his feelings and act on it already?

kirishima asked him that one day in the dorms

he saw bakugou staring very intensely straight at you without blinking for a full minute

“look man, don’t even try to tell me you don’t like y/n. it’s obvious and i’m not an idiot. you aren’t either.”

“i know shitty hair. it’s just… i’m me. and she’s y/n. nothing’s ever gonna happen.”

“you don’t know that”

“but i do. cmon, she’s just so fucking perfect even with all her flaws. and i’m just the loud guy with exploding hands and no emotions.”

kiri was surprised honestly

this wouldn’t be the first time bakugou was insecure around him but the way bakugou talked about you and how he implied he wasn’t worthy

damn that hit kirishima 

“bakubro, i’m gonna help you”

STAGE IV ( intimacy ) ;

ever since he told kirishima abt what’s been bothering him about you and ever since kirishima declared he’d help, bakugou became more…

quiet

he was still loud, but he just became a soft kind of loud now(?)

it was like he got calmer and he was assured that things would be okay

of course things were not okay

why? because ever since bakugou fully accepted his feelings for you, he doesnt know how to act around you

the other day you asked him what he wanted to eat for dinner cause you were cooking tonight

his answer:

“you”

“umm..”

“-you can make anything you want. i’ll eat whatever.”

that and a lot of other little awkward incidents started occurring

also maybe it was just the weather but he always seemed red whenever you saw him

it wasn’t the weather though

it was him being shy and nervous and flustered

which made bakusquad extremely weirded out cause seeing him like that is like seeing aizawa cheerfully smiling and wearing bright color clothes

it was weird af and was just not right

anyway, mina’s advice to him was to try to get closer to you

“but we’re already close”

“no i mean closer on a personal level. ask her how her day was or ask her random stuff about her likes and dislikes or her hobbies or literally anything”

“oh… ok then”

and so he tried that

he tried getting closer to you by greeting you every morning and sometimes asking you if you slept well

you found it odd

it certainly was odd, but you didn’t mind

if you ask him why he asks about your sleep he just goes red and says he needs to make sure his opponent for his afternoon sparring session is well-rested and healthy

speaking of the sparring sessions…

he asks you to spar more often than usual and actually makes small talk during your breaks

he was also a lot nicer to you, offering to help carry stuff for you and assisting you in the little things

like getting a mug from the kitchen’s high shelves or picking up the pencil you accidentally dropped

what he did worked though and within a few weeks, the two of you got a lot closer

the next step, as mina put it, was “making sure she knew you weren’t interested in her as a friend”

now that was hard for bakugou to do

“it’s not that hard. you could just tell her.”

bakugou: ..??

“basically confess”

bakugou: wha- *shortcircuits*

CONFESSING

he never thought about that

he actually has

he knew in his mind he’d have to do it eventually if he wanted to have you

but he didn’t think it would be *this soon*

“dont think that much and just tell her you like her”

“you’re making it sound easy”

“because it is!”

he groaned internally

he’s faced tons of villains and been in quite the number of fearful situations but the fear he felt now was completely different 

“look if you’re afraid of rejection just confess like this”

*sero clears throat*

“*y/n i like you and i would like to be something more than friends. i’m not going to pressure you into anything so if yoh don’t want to we can just pretend this never happened>:)”

“...”

bakugou ended up confessing the next day though

just not like that

it was a spur of a moment thing and he wasn’t really aware he said it until you responded

the two of you were sparring as usual and you had just gotten close enough to knock him down and pin him to the ground

in that moment you were just so beautiful and amazing and everything and he just couldn’t keep it in apparently 

“i like you”

“w-what?”

“what?”

“did you just say you liked me?”

“like not liked dumbass”

“:o present tense o:”

well long story short, you like him too and you tell him that and you two just sit there grinning like idiots 

from then on things didn’t change much

you and bakugou still talked, although maybe more than usual

and still sparred with each other, although maybe less seriously and more playfully

some were surprised when it became known you were together

some weren’t 

whatever other people thought though, they couldn’t deny one thing:

bakugou looked at you as if you were the world

STAGE ∞︎ ( fallen ) .

note ; i started writing this soo long ago but then abandoned it cuz thats just me:”] bUT i decided that since its his birthday i might as well finish it up and finally post it u.u,,, also TYSM @animebsposts for helping me with this ily and ur amazing<3

taglist ; ( send ask to be added ! ) @lilikags​

[datleggy]

Missing Scene 4x08 9-1-1 fox

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT FOR “BREAKING POINT”

By the time he manages to grab his keys, jump into his truck, drive halfway across town and find parking in Buck’s neighborhood, Eddie is a mess of nerves as he makes his way across the threshold and into the loft. “Buck, where’s--” 

Buck shushes him immediately, pointing upstairs to where his bedroom is. “He’s exhausted. He ate one of those oven ready mac n’ cheese meals in my fridge and practically fell asleep on my couch; I carried him up to bed a few minutes ago. He’s knocked out up there.” 

Eddie sighs, the relief he feels is staggering. 

He quietly makes his way upstairs and lingers at the top step, watching his kid sleep soundly, his chest moving up and down rhythmically with every breath he takes. Eddie stands there and simply takes in the sight for a handful of minutes before slowly making his way back down and to the kitchen, where Buck is leaning back against his counter sipping on a beer. 

There’s another one on the table waiting for him and he gratefully grabs it, taking a long gulp before sitting it back down and letting out a deep sigh. 

“So uh, what exactly happened?” Buck asks, and there’s something about his tone Eddie can’t decipher, but he knows it’s not good. 

“I told you already, he found out I started dating someone and clearly he didn’t take it so well.” Eddie takes another swig of his beer, huffing in frustration. 

Buck places his drink down on the counter and folds his arms, “Yeah, I know that part, what I don’t get is how Christopher managed to literally run away from home with you in the house? What were you doing when he took your phone, used it to call an Uber and had some stranger drive him here in the middle of the night?” 

Accusatory. That’s what that tone is, Eddie finally identifies. “Are you serious right now?” he slams his beer bottle down with unnecessary force and Buck gives him a warning look. 

He half whispers, half yells, when he says, “No shit I’m serious. Answer the question.” 

Eddie blinks, surprised and equal parts irritated by the ire he’s receiving from Buck of all people. Lawsuit aside, Buck has never not been on Eddie’s side; this entire confrontation feels wrong and foreign to him. “I was on a video call with Ana, I had my headphones in, I knew Christopher was upset about the news, but I didn’t think he would--” 

“This? What happened tonight? This was the best case scenario, and I know damn well you know that. Christopher got into some strangers car tonight. Eddie, what if I hadn’t been home? He didn’t have a phone with him or anything, he didn’t even take your copy of my key with him, just in case Albert and I weren’t here. What the hell would he have done then? Hung out in the hallway or God forbid roamed the streets and waited for someone to notice an unattended nine year old?” Buck’s been angry before, but nothing compares to the wrath brewing somewhere deep in the pit of his belly right now.

Eddie goes on the defense, glaring at Buck from across the table in the half light. “It’s so easy for you to stand there and judge me when you’re not a parent yourself, Buck. What do you expect from me? I can’t keep an eye on Christopher twenty four seven--how the hell was I supposed to know he’d leave like that?!” 

Buck glares at him right back, matching his intensity, times ten. “First of all, keep your voice down--he’s sleeping.” Buck plows on, even as Eddie tries to talk over him. “And secondly, I don’t need to be a parent to know you fucked up tonight the same way I don’t need to be a pilot to know that if the plane went down something’s wrong. How could you not hear him leaving? Were you two watching a goddamn movie over skype, is that why you didn’t hear the damn door open and shut? Christopher’s a lot of things, but stealthy isn’t one of ‘em Eddie.” 

“What the fuck is your problem right now? What? You think I don’t feel shitty enough already? You wanna add insult to injury on top of everything?” Eddie scoffs, aggravated and hurt and on the attack. “I don’t need you to lecture me on how to take care of my kid. He’s mine, not yours, in case you forgot.” 

Buck takes a step back, like he’s been dealt a harsh blow. “That’s not--I’m not saying--” he stammers, his face crumpling into despair. “I was scared.” he hides his face in his palms, exhaling fully. “Jesus Christ Eddie, I saw him standing outside my building in the cold, trying to work the handle, and he was alone and when I brought him inside and he told me everything, about the phone and the Uber ride I instantly thought about every single little thing that could have gone so horribly wrong, how it was a miracle he made it all the way here and that he was safe--” his voice cracks on the last word and he turns his back to Eddie, his shoulders shaking. 

Fear. Fear is what Eddie had felt. Instant hot white fear and an overwhelming panic, for those few brief awful moments wherein he’d had no idea where Christopher had run off to. 

“Shit.” Eddie lets out an audible breath. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that--you’re a good dad, I just--all I can think about right now is the tsunami, about how I lost Christopher, about how I couldn’t breathe until--” 

“You found him.” Eddie finishes softly. He makes his way to Buck and settles a hand on his shoulder, his thumb brushing the nape of his neck. “I know the feeling. Trust me. Every parents worst nightmare.” 

Buck turns around, his eyes wide and wet with unshed tears. “I know I’m not Christopher’s dad, I swear that’s not what I was trying to--” 

Eddie shakes his head. “That wasn’t fair, what I said. I know everyone sees me and thinks, ‘single dad’, but I don’t know if I would have survived this whole parenting thing without you by my side, Buck. And that’s the hard truth. I mean, hell, we get into an argument and the first person Christopher turns to is you. You know that’s gotta count for something, don’t you?” 

Buck swipes at his face when a stray tear rolls down his cheek. “Sorry...about what I said. I think I was just projecting.” 

Eddie gulps, “No. You weren’t.” he admits, pressing his lips together. “I did fuck up tonight. Big time. I should have been in Christopher’s room, talking to him about everything, trying to explain to him that nothing about our relationship is going to change, just because I’m dating, and that no one could replace his mother, I should have been in there, making sure he understood--especially after how volatile his reaction was and then the whole storming off after. Instead I decided to spend an hour on skype talking to Ana about it.” He sighs. “Christopher’s been my first and main priority for so long, I guess I’m not used to splitting my attention between two people. I uh, I need to work on that...” 

“Bucky?” 

Eddie and Buck both whip their heads up to where Christopher is leaning against the railing, peeking down at the both of them. 

“Hey bud, you ok?” Buck hastily tries to turn his expression into something more neutral. 

“Had a bad dream.” Christopher looks at the two men pleadingly. “Can you guys come sleep with me?” 

Eddie turns to Buck and they communicate silently, with only a couple of looks, ultimately deciding that it is, in fact, bedtime. 

“We’ll be right up.” Eddie tells him. 

[chasseuses]

reasons why i love jade leech pt.2

so i guess I'm doing this again.

this is more of a repeat of everything I said in part one but with more sobbing and coherent words.

Jade Leech, Octavinelle's vice dorm leader and the twin brother of Floyd. Many might say that Jade is better than Floyd, although that may seem true to people who don't know him well enough, some people were smart enough to know that Jade was just as bad.

Despite being so fucking shady and nasty, I couldn't help but slowly learn how to love his character. His shadiness is only a part of his charm ❤️ I mean— don't you want that? Don't you just want to look at him and wonder what the fuck is going through his mind right now?

He could be either plotting murder or thinking about tonight's dinner and I would still find his shady expression 🥺 oddly attractive to say the least. I'm being weirdly serious here and typing in lowercase so in a few bullets, expect me to go feral once again.

His eyes are gorgeous. I don't know about you but I get mesmerized everytime I look at them, I swear I could drown in them and never want air ever again. His mismatched eyes,, absolutely beautiful sir please shock my heart eheheh 👉👈 haha jk !!! he doesn't have to use his unique magic to shock my heart bfjfkfjfkfjkffk

His smile is breathtaking, my sun— my light in this dark world of mine. Even if his smile is practiced and insincere, I can't help but go crazy over it. Imagine if he smiled genuinely, no restraints at all as he let out a hearty laugh and a genuine smile took over his expression. I would cry on the spot, I am cryimyfjrkfjkffk.

GOF HELP ME I CAN'T TYPE IN LOWERCASE ANYMORE IM GOING IN CAPSLOCK!!!

I HATE HOW JADE CAN GO FROM HIS USUAL GENTLEMANLY FACE EXPRESSION BUT SUDDENLY SHOOTS YOU A FUCKING SMUG GRIN WHICH SHOWS OFF HIS SHARP TEETH AND SAYS HIS USUAL "Fufu~" LINE LIKE PLEASE 🗿 SHUT THE FUCK UP DON'T SMILE LIKE THAT!!

SPEAKING OF TEETH, MAN I REALLY AM CURIOUS AS TO HOW SHARP THEY ARE. A PART OF ME WANTS TO SHOVE MY HAND INTO HIS MOUTH AND JUST TOUCH THOSE TEETH AND SEE HOW SHARP THEY ARE 🤡 haha imagine if he suddenly bit down tho hahshhhshsdrijfrknfkrgntknffknflfnflffnkfnfkjfkdjfofjddlifjf ok I'll shut up.

I don't think I mentioned it here (i already did) but I am telling you that the idea of someone as composed and reserved as Jade starts pining, IT'S GUARANTEED TO BE SO FUCKING GOOD LIKE 🗿 OH GOD THE THOUGHT OF JADE PINING?? ABSOLUTELY *CHEFS KISS* MAN THAT IS SOME GOOD SHIT RIGHT THERE IF YOU SEE ANY PINING JADE PLEASE TAG ME I WILL START CRYIMG

Oh my god. Have I told you how beautiful Jade's lips are? Please please please please look at them they look so nice ahahahha so irresistible and kissable UEEEEEEEEEE

The way his lips are like that 🗿his fucking smile/smirk. GOD GIEV EME THE ABILITY TO KITH THIS MAN JUST ONCE PLEASE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH I'M FUCKING CRYING.

Oh my gOD THE WAY HE LOOKS AT MUSHROOMS... THE SOFTEST GAZE... SOMEONE LIKE HE... IS CAPABLE OF HAVING SUCH A SOFT EXPRESSION ON HIS FACE.... PLEASE I WANT TO BE A MUSHROOM IF IT MEANT BEING LOOKED AT BY JADE LIKE THAT.

HE COULD FUCKING SPIT ON ME AND I'D THANK HIM.

I'm ashamed to admit that the earliest reason why I liked Jade Leech was because of his hands. Please forgive me, Lilia-sama. I cannot help but get attracted to such beautiful hands- it was if it was sculpted by the god of sculpting himself! It's such a shame that his gloves cover up its blinding beauty- though my eyes can see through the deceit, I know that his fingers are glorious beneath that piece of cloth. My one and only wish in life is to be able to hold his hand- without the gloves, and that's all for my confession.

^^^^^ I FOUND THAT IN MY DRAFTS

I'M SORRY BUT I JUST REALLY LIKE HIS HANDS OK. LIKE 😳 haha...!! what if we held hands,, without the gloves 😳 haha jk...! unless ...?9£4(_8 UE UE UE UE UE MR. LEECH LET ME HOLD YOUR HAND PLEASE I'M GONNA BEG

UEEEEEEEE I'M NOT FUCKING KIDDING YOU WHEN I SAY I WROTE SO MUCH LETTERS FOR THIS EEL I WISH I WAS KIDDING I HAVE LIKE 12 RIGHT NOW GOD I'M SUCH A FUCKING SIMP

st a rts sobbing

pouting jade.

pouting jade.

pouting jade.

WHAT THE FUCKBSJDJDJJ??£?£(_(3(_((_(£(£+£; WHY IS HE SO CUTE INT HSI SCREENSHOT WHAT THE FUCK I LOVE YOU SO MUCH PLEASE THE WAY YOU'RE POUTING RIGHT NOW IS SO CUTE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LET ME SQUEEZE YOU.

I'm fucking crying why the fuck is he so cute gof forbid this man from being so fuvking cute i cannot.

People be telling me: cute?? jade is terrifying.

and I go like: that's cute.

UE UE UE EU UEHFHRJFJJDJF HAVE U GUYS HEARD OF WHAT HE DOES TO PEOPLE HE BETRAY HIM???? I LITERALLY WENT 😳 "ahahahh mr leech i will personally betray you just to make you do that to me" you know. like a simp.

U know what I'm going back to lowercase

His extreme love for mushrooms is probably his comic relief so it doesn't completely make him seem like a shady bitch in the game- it's a surprise as to how cute and vulnerable he can get when he talks about or does something related to his precious fungi. It even goes as far as to make him completely lose his sense of surroundings, which is really rare for someone as observant as him- and usually dangerous sjfbjdbf. It's also EXTREMELY CUTE as to how they made Jade someone who really likes mountains- he even goes as far as to found his own club to appreciate them!!

He has pretty deft hands, being able to create a terrarium and care for it as a hobby is applaudable- not everyone has the ability to do just that, you'd have to be able to be extremely precise and careful, and add a little bit of extreme determination to the mix. He would probably smell like mud from all the time he spends in the greenhouse, and stays up late because of creating terrariums. It shows us that he isn't completely a shitty eel who collects dirt on people as his job and I think that's pretty fucking cute not gonna lie!

There was one voice line of him mentioning that he likes gazing at stars, which was completely unexpected for me! He didn't seem like the type to gaze up at the stars and just- watch! Though I expect him to be always alone whenever he does that- he isn't exactly the most approachable person in NRC, people tend to avoid the Leech twins because of Floyd- mostly. People are just scared of them and I don't think Jade has any friends aside from Azul and Floyd. And I don't think either of them would be willing to stay with him to do just that, Floyd's excuse would be because "it's boring~!" and Azul's would be "I have much more important things to do." And I think that's pretty fucking sad.

God please send me to their world I will watch the stars with him please i love him so much I'm—

BACK TO CAPSLOCK FJDJJEKFJKDJFKRNDKDJFKDFLDJRLFNFLDNFLDFNDLNDLDNFLFOFKDLDKDLDKDK

Look. No amount of words can actually describe my feelings for Jade Leech no words can do my love justice UE UE UE UE which is why I do the second best thing— keysmash.

Please please please I could give him the whole world and it wouldn't do my love for him justice 🗿 UE UE UE UEJFBRKFBTKNFRKFBFKFHJFHFDKHFKDBFKDHFKRBFRKBFRKBRKFBFKFNFKFJFKFJDKFK

I also uh, want him to step on me! Y',)!92+_)£_+ Y'know... He would stomp on my back and dig his heel into my back and probably hurl insults towards me 😳 man. I'd be hIS FUCKING DOORMAT IN A HEARTBEAT.

Omg this is getting long

The first part was much more 🗿🗿🗿🗿🗿 but I still do this anyways.

Anyways. Please stan Jade Leech I love him so much 💕

i would've included my brainrot but ppl would just go 🗿 "taku you really are a jade simp huh" and NO I DON'T WANT THATTTTTTTTT

[jwritesandrambles]

“Supposed to Be”

Hi there! Yeah I still barely use tumblr but hey lookit I did the wrote thing down!!!!

I would like to give a bit thank you to @schweeeppess and @dragonsworn05 for editing my messy dyslexic rambles. @noroomforcream and @just-a-little-in-over-my-head  did some really cool art for this! 

(if I missed tagging someone, it’s not personal I appreciate you so much, I’m just posting in a rush mwauh)

Jason was back in Gotham. For the second time since he died, actually.

The last time hadn’t gone well. Technically, it had gone according to plan--for the most part--but Jason was still shambling together the broken pieces of his mind. Back then in December, all that was left of Jason were the shards of hurt and anger. He had been living for nothing but the idea of someone else’s death. Coming back to the real world, away from the sheltered and hidden places of the League of Shadows and the All-Caste, seemed to bring a bit of him back. Seeing Bruce, talking to him…everything that went down, and the reminder that he cared about him--loved him, even--it woke something up in Jason. Something that he thought had died along with him and never came back. 

He had spent a year by himself, taking any mercenary jobs he could get, trying to find something other than the all consuming anger that had fuelled him for the past few years, but his travels didn’t matter now, as he stood in a back alley of Gotham, the protective red helmet tucked under his arm. He wished his replacement, Tim Drake, hadn’t chosen this particular alley to meet up in. 

The balcony and rickety old fire escape were unforgettable to Jason. It was where he had met the Bat, after trying to jack the tires off one of those many damn expensive cars that Bruce had. Not only where it began, but where he once thought it would end. It was only a year ago he had stood, gun trained on Bruce, the man he had, for a time, called father. His voice shook and tears rolled down his cheeks, “it would be so easy to kill you.”

Jason was ripped from his reminiscing as a soft thud signaled that Red Robin had landed behind him. Jason flinched more than he’d like to admit, but fought the urge to draw his weapon. Quick reflexes was a nice way of saying jumpy. 

“Hood,” The teen greeted. 

“Replacement,” Jason said with a nod, echoing Tim’s tone back at him, relaxing. 

“Weren’t you a replacement too?” Tim pointed out, seeming to take no offence. 

Jason shrugged, “True. I’m not denying it. Just as long as you know that’s probably what B expects. Another Grayson,” he mumbled. 

Sure, he was less angry than before, but that didn’t mean Jason wasn’t a bitter son of a bitch. 

Tim bit the inside of his lip, an awkward and slightly uncomfortable look on the visible part of his face. It flickered away and was replaced with a more professional, neutral expression as he cleared his throat. 

“Yes... well... We’re here for a job so let’s focus. You got all the information B sent you?” He was honestly trying his best, but he was hesitant about this mission. Could anyone blame him? Jason Todd had proven himself to be... volatile. The memories of Jason’s violence were all too fresh in Tim’s mind. 

“Yeah, I got it. I read the file over,” he mumbled. He puffed out a weak breath, “Scarecrow set up a chemical mixing shop by the docks, at least one shipment has come in, but we can expect more, right? Anything I missed?” Jason asked, rummaging through his coat pockets. 

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He had been trying to quit, but he didn’t want to be getting distracted with cravings while trying to focus on the mission. 

Tim watched him quietly as he lit off, smelling the tobacco from up on his perch. 

“Um... yes, that’s all,”  the teen dragged his teeth along the edge of his lip. The skin felt slightly raw and sore from his empty minded nibbling. 

Jason started walking off down the alley, leaving a slight trail of lingering smoke in damp air. Tim followed. 

“So,” Jason pulled the cigarette from his lips, careful not to let his helmet slip from under his arm. He held it between his first and second fingers, “Uh.. Why’d you have us meet here instead of anywhere closer to the docks?” He asked, trying to break the awkwardly growing silence.

“Scarecrow has patrols circulating around the docks. We’re less likely to be spotted if we’re not waiting around there to meet up,” Tim explains with a little shrug.

Jason hummed a brief note of understanding, “Oh yeah, that makes sense. I’m, uh, I haven’t worked with anyone in... years,” Jason paused, taking another drag from the smouldering cigarette, “Y’know, really nothing team oriented since working with B. Even then I was a shitty teammate,” he laughed hollowly.

Tim nodded, thinking about what Jason’d just said. Had it really been that long? Maybe… maybe the fact that Jason was even admitting to being a bad teammate didn’t bode well. It could mean trouble for them later. If it was so obvious that even Jason could admit it, perhaps Tim shouldn’t have done this team-up. 

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Tim ran to catch up to Jason quickly, “Wait... how old are you?” He asked upon reaching him. 

“I’m t- uh... hold on, well... how long was I gone?” He asked Tim in return. 

“You were thought to be dead for five years,” Tim told him, in a tone like he was reciting a Wikipedia page written about the formally deceased, wayward Wayne boy. Now that Jason thought of it, he was certain Bruce had a file written up on him now. Bruce had written up for every major criminal in Gotham city. 

Jason let out a low whistle and soft huff, “I must be… twenty one now? Weird.”

“So... you didn't know how old you were till now?” Tim raised a brow, causing the mask to shift.

“Yeaahh,” Jason drew the word out sarcastically, pretending to took him deep thought to reconcile. “Somethin’ about the severe head trauma, dying, comin’ back, and being isolated from the normal world for years, all while being a wreck the whole time seems to have made my memory a lil’ fuzzy,” Jason said with a wry, sarcastic smile.

Tim seethed silently, letting out a series of apologetic mumbles, eyes dropping to ground ahead of him- it was a tactless and rude thing to ask, and Tim should’ve known that! 

Jason laughed weakly, hand quickly coming up towards him and... ruffled Tim’s hair? The boy hadn’t even had a chance to recoil. He was just confused; that was the last thing he’d expect from Jason.

The man stubbed out his cigarette and lumbered on ahead of Tim, dropping it in the trash, “Don’t worry about it, kid. I was just being a bitch, you’re fine.”

Tim opened and closed his mouth, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. A man who tried to kill him only a year ago had just ruffled his hair?! He decided not to comment on it, because-- after all--what the hell could he even say?

Tim cleared his throat again, “We should get into position, we’re almost there. Maybe get your, uh, helmet-thingy on?” He suggested. 

Jason glanced at the helmet- he’d almost forgotten he had it tucked under his arm. 

“Yeah, of course,” Jason said, lifting his helmet and plunking it on his head, “good reminder, Timbers.” His voice became modulated the second the helmet covered his head. His low, gravely, smokers growl of a voice, was nowhere near and deep and gravely as Bruce’s--but sounded like it took a step closer with every box of cigarettes--became a pitch lower still. An odd robotic twang edged his words, giving him a metallic, cyber sound.

Tim adjusted his own mask, making sure it was firmly in place before nodding to Jason. The two silently started up again, approaching a warehouse that was supposed to be locked until the next morning’s shipment. “Supposed to be” being the operative words. Instead, there was muted huffing and shuffling as two of Scarecrow’s workers uncomfortably hauled a large crate into the building.

Both Jason and Tim seemed to shrink into the shadows at the same instant; each becoming one with the wall. Jason drew his weapon quietly, earning a disapproving frown from Tim. “I’m not gonna kill them. Chill,” Jason whispered in that odd robotic voice. 

Tim seemed satisfied enough to quit pouting at Jason. They crept closer, making little dashes between hiding spots when the coast was clear.

Jason let out a breath of curse as his eyes fell about the giant, glass, canister. It was filled with a bubbling, sickly, arsenic green substance.

“No way, that shit is all fear toxin? Fuck! He’s got enough to blast the entire downtown!” His voice came through in a synthesized hiss.

“Worse.” Tim whispered, spying the large pressurizer on top of the glass container. “That’s just the liquid form. When he releases it, it’ll be gaseous. If it’s released from the container from a high vantage point, a small breeze could cover the entire city in minutes.”

The severity of the situation washed over what little of Tim’s features were visible from beneath the mask. 

This wasn’t just a quick little in and out operation anymore. One wrong move and there could have a small, yet very messy, catastrophic outcome.

Tim had to plan this carefully, because there was no way they could afford to mess this up.

He turned to Jason...or, rather, where Jason had just been seconds before. 

Jason had evidently had a similar train of thought to Tim’s. He’d realized this was a serious situation, though, instead of drawing the conclusion to re-evaluate, re-plan, and carry on with caution, or something sensible-- he seemingly forgot any sense of subtlety he had. Oh, God forbid carefully thinking his actions out, like any sane rational person would do. Or calling for backup, like anyone with a vague semblance of self-preservation.  No no, instead, Jason had decided it was best to act now and not waste a second with plans or any ideas of safety. He jumped into action.

Jason was already leaping over the crate the two vigilantes had been hiding behind seconds ago, as Tim let out a quiet imploring hiss of “Wait--oh no-”“ but it was too late.

Jason already had his gun drawn. 

“Scarecrow!” he yelled, “this ends now!” He fired at the box the two workers were carrying, sending it out of their hands and clattering to the floor. A series of shattering followed the initial crash as the contents shattered. Whatever chemicals that had been inside hissed loudly, a faint smoke rising from between the boards of the wooden box.

“Hood!?” The Scarecrow rounded to face who he knew as the ex-criminal, ‘The Red Hood.’

“In the flesh.” Jason kept his gun trained on Scarecrow, while a third worker who had been off to the side started to shuffle his way towards him.

“Thought you moved your little operation away from Gotham when the Bats got the better of you,” Scarecrow commented, not seeming pleased about the interruption at all. 

Scarecrow’s worker lunged at Jason. Tim kicked himself mentally and left hiding, kicking the worker --physically, not mentally this time-- back away from Jason. The third worker scuttled back, apparently deciding this altercation was above his pay grade.

Jason felt something he hadn’t really felt in a long time; it was a feeling akin to camaraderie. He had someone watching his back for once. If the circumstances hadn’t been so dire, he might have even cracked a smile. Or, rather, he might have felt a slight tug at the corner of his lips, at least.

“Well, yeah, the bats did get the best of me. Now I’m tryna give them my best. And that involves bootin’ your sorry ass out of here.”

“Quick witted, aren’t you?” Scarecrow tensed slightly. His eyes darted away from behind his mask for a moment. He was glancing to the side. Tim followed his gaze over to the-

Shit! The canister! If the bullet missed Scarecrow it would-

Tim knew what scarecrow was thinking, but it was too late.

“NO!” Tim shouted, helplessly watching as Scarecrow dove.

As expected, Jason pulled the trigger reflexively, but the Scarecrow had already ducked. The bullet made a resounding bang as it fired, hitting the large gas canister. 

Tim seized up, every nerve buzzing, every muscle tensed, every fibre of his being filled with an awful sinking sensation. The room was deadly-still. It was like something written by the hand of a fool-hardy novelist, who was paid far too much for over-the-top paperbacks; The bullet had embedded itself in the glass, acting like a stopper. A sickening series of cracks emanated from the canisters, as a thin spidery web formed across the glass. All tendrils originating from where the bullet hit.

Jason let out a low whistle, “Well. That coulda been disastrous.”

Tim couldn’t help but feel relieved, a stressed laugh escaping his lips. 

Scarecrow was scampering away, his workers already having pulled a quick disappearing act themselves, because, this wasn’t what he’d planned. 

“Don’t even think about it, Crane,” Jason said as he turned, taking a heavy step.

Said heavy step was apparently too much. The glass gave a shuttering groan, followed by a small hiss as gas began to leak.

Tim made an involuntary distressed sound. Something akin to an exhausted sigh mixed with a whimper. 

The one word that ever so eloquently graced Jason’s lips was, “Fuck.”

And the canister...

Burst.

The pressure placed on the glass had built up and could no longer hold.

Jason’s final step had been the breaking point, the spider work of cracks along the glass giving way with a great shatter.

Shards of the canister flung themselves across the room. The liquid that had been held within instantly began vaporizing into a thick, sickening gas. To anyone that had the misfortune of inhaling it, it felt as though the gas was trying --with every atom of its existence-- to choke the life out of its victim. It reached into their lungs, clawed at their insides, grabbing at their desperately beating hearts, and squeezed. It forced their brain to fill their body with adrenaline and hallucinogens. Tim knew this. 

He’d studied the Scarecrow’s fear toxin many times. He’d been exposed to it before, too. Tim knew this fear and knew he was helpless to do anything about it.

Tim was helpless to stop this. He had failed. He’d failed Bruce. He’d failed this mission. Because he was weak. He was weak, helpless, hopeless, a failure, a burden, unwanted. He was nothing more than a replaceable replacement. No one would care if he was gone, God, it’s not like anyone would ever notice! He was a forgettable nothing. Tim coughed and wheezed. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe!

Tim staggered. He tripped over his feet trying to get away from the intense fear that gripped his throat. Tim realized something physical was gripping his neck. The thing dragged him back roughly, towards what he could only assume was something horrid. Tim clawed at the thing gripping his throat. As he gasped for shuddering breath, he couldn’t help but begin to sob. He was going to die. He would die and no one would care. No one would even try to find him when he didn’t come home, they wouldn’t even notice because he was worthless, replaceable, weak, failure, helpless!

A new level of fear washed over Tim as he felt something cover his face, it encased his head. Tim could feel it squeeze his skull, he swore the pressure felt tight enough to crush his cranium like a tin can. It was claustrophobic. He felt his own shallow breath bounce back against his lips, because it had nowhere else to go. He was trapped and suffocating.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t BREATHE! OH--oh, oh no... no? Wait a moment... he COULD breathe.

Tim took a moment to try to get his bearings. He needed to remember how his lungs worked. He awkwardly sucked in a breath of filtered, recycled air. It tasted tinny on his tongue. Tim blinked the tears from his eyes. They rolled down his cheeks, and he became aware of the taste of salt too. There was the faint scent of stale tobacco and smoke. His mind was reeling as he processed each detail. He dragged tongue over his lips nervously, and began to chew at his bottom lip. Tim’s heart was still pounding and his hands were shaking. He raised his hands to feel his head, glancing at his twitching fingers as they passed in front of his face, confusedly. Everything had a red tinge to it. He pressed his hands to his head, feeling a hard smooth surface.

Tim’s brain felt slow and groggy, taking a moment to clue into what was on his head. Was it Jason’s helmet? Yes, yes it was Jason’s helmet, that was certain, but where was Jason? 

The thick gas still hung in a green fog, but the helmet seemed to be filtering the worst of it out. Tim swept his arm though the air, watching the gas clear slightly, before swooping in to fill the gaps. Tim knew he needed to thin this stuff out if he wanted to have any hope in finding Jason before tripping over him. He rushed through the room, feeling his way over to the door. Scarecrow’s men had closed it, containing them --and more importantly the gas--  inside. Small mercy the fear toxin wasn’t being released on the city though. 

Tim dragged his fingers along the wall. His senses were so heightened that it was almost overstimulating. It was likely due to the toxin, Tim guessed. He could still feel the rough brick as he scraped along, even through the tips of his gloves. It was oddly reassuring. A steady constant he could focus on until -thunk-  His hand bumped into a smooth metallic protrusion from the wall. Exactly what Tim had been looking for. 

“Bingo.”

Tim swept his other arm through the air again, doing his best to fan the gass away for him to get a bit of a better view of what he was hoping to see. A metal switch box, old and slightly rusted around the edges. Tim had been counting on any wearhouse by the docks having a ventilation system to keep the products safe from humidity. Of course, he was right. With some difficulty, Tim wrenched the switch box open. After straining to read faded, dusty labels through the gas in the air, he flipped what he hoped was the right switch.

There was a small whine of aching metal that hadn’t moved in a long time and Tim cracked into a grin underneath the helmet. 

He’d done it!

The fans kicked into a regular pace. The smooth ‘whoomp whoomp whoomp’ of turning blades filled Tim with a sense of muted triumph. The foggy haze of fear gas began to thin as the building began to filter it out, mixing it with the humid air. Tim figured it would be condensed and drip out to puddle with the dirty water in the alley behind the warehouse. If Tim was right, which he usually was, it wouldn’t harm anyone unless they decided to drink from the puddle water. Which was unlikely, but not impossible. It was Gotham after all.

Tim looked around the room as the gas dissipated. His gaze found its way to a shaking heap on the floor next to the shattered remains of the canister he had been standing before. The proud grin faded from Tim’s lips. 

That... that wasn’t a good sign at all.

“Hey, um, hood? Red hood, status?” He asked, the words felt strange as they left his mouth. Hearing his own modulated voice echo slightly in the room felt vaguely surreal. 

The heap of muscle and leather known as Jason didn’t reply. 

Seeing Jason’s twitching body on the floor emptied a hollow pit in Tim’s stomach. Jason had never seemed like he was even capable of fear. Capable of rage, capable of hurt, and capable of pain, sure, but fear seemed like something Tim would’ve assumed Jason was beyond. Something so... innate, that the unnatural nature of Jason’s second life would’ve swept it away. 

Tim made his way over, hesitantly rolling the helmet forward off his head. The fear toxin seemed to be thin enough now that it wasn’t harming him.  

“Ja-er, Jason?” Tim’s soft voice seemed thunderously loud in the quiet room. The only other sounds around were the fans quietly whirring away and, far more disturbingly in his opinion, the even quieter shaking breaths and distressed whimpering tumbling from Jason’s lips. 

Jason was not in good shape. He was shaking violently, hands over his head. His whimpers were punctuated by violent spasms that racked his body every few seconds, accompanied with a louder more pronounced cry. 

Tim felt the colour drain from his face. He quickly kneeled down, setting the helmet on the concrete floor next to them both with a slight clink. Tim grabbed Jason’s arm, trying to turn him on to his back. Jason heftily flailed the arm Tim pulled, unintentionally hitting Tim in the face. Tim yelped in surprise as a sharp pain sprung from his nose, warm liquid leaking down his face. The blood pouring down his face didn’t deter Tim much, the blood coursing through him  seeming to do the opposite for pain as it did the rest of his senses. The pain was slightly numbed--or, rather, it had become easy to ignore. He fought to wrangle both of Jason’s arms, quickly scrambling to sit on Jason’s torso, struggling to pin Jason’s arms down with his legs. 

Tim took off his mask. He knew it was against protocol, but an un-obscured face was easier to recognize when the toxin took hold, in Tim’s experience. 

“Jason? Jason, look at me. Can you hear me?” he asked quickly, holding on to Jason’s shoulders. He desperately hoped Jason wouldn’t throw him off. Jason’s eyes were unfocused, spinning around wildly all over the room. 

Tim tried to process Jason’s words, “No, not again, ple--I can’t I--it hurts! Fuck! It hurts,” Jason’s words became incomprehensible for a moment, then his fists clenched tightly. “I don’t want to die! Not again. Not again not again not again! He’s gotta come save me, take me home, he’s gotta! Shit, not again!“ he choked and broke off with a shout and another full body jerk. 

Tim was jostled but didn’t fall off, by some miracle. “Jason!” he tried. “Listen to me!” Tim put his hands on either of Jason’s face. Jason flinched away from Tim’s touch with a sob of “It hurts, it hurts, I can hear all my bones snapping, I’m dying, it’s crushing me, I can’t--I can’t--”

“I know,” Tim cut him off gently, “I know it hurts and--and you’re scared, but you’re not alone, I’m right here. I’m going to help you,” Tim tried to catch Jason’s focus. 

Jason’s roaming eyes stopped dodging around the room, and turned towards Tim. He kept looking from Tim’s shoulders, Tim’s chest, back up to his face and then to his eyes and back to his chest again. Perhaps not the ideal image of calming down but it was a first step. 

“Good,” Tim praised softly in relief. He ran his thumbs over Jason’s cheeks gently. Now more so than ever did Tim take notice of the scars on either side of Jason’s face. On Jason’s left cheek, there was a jagged line that traced from his cheek bone down to his jaw. A similar yet smaller one was mirrored on Jason’s right. Tim could understand why Jason flinched from him. He shook the thought from his mind, “See? We’re okay. Just try to breathe, in and out. You can do that, right, Jason?”

“No! No! I c-can’t, I’m crushed, I can’t. My--my lungs, they’re all full of blood, and mud, and dirt, and fuckin’ I dunno what!” Another violent thrash went through Jason’s body, almost toppling Tim off this time. “I can’t breathe, it hurts! I want it to stop hurting! How do I make it stop!?” 

“Uah--yeah, I know it hurts, but I promise nothing is crushing you. It’s just me, I’m light, and I’m here and I--I know it hurts I’m going to try to make it stop but I need to--” Jason thrashed, but Tim didn’t relinquish his hold on him, “--but I NEED you to stay still!”

Jason’s eyes finally locked on to Tim’s, “M-make it s-stop?” he echoed back to the smaller vigilante.

“Yeah, yeah I’m going to try to make it stop.” Tim slowly pulled his hands away from Jason, sitting back slightly, starting to fish through the many pockets and pouches attached to the strap around his waist.  

He almost always had the antidote on hand. Bruce had trained him and prepared him meticulously, making certain that Tim would be ready with everything they had at all costs. The only issue was it was enough antidote for him; almost seventeen, about a head shorter and ninety pounds lighter--nowhere near enough antitoxin for the two hundred and forty pounds of murder that was the shaking mass of Jason Todd slumped before him.

Jason dropped his head back against the concrete floor, beginning to mutter once again. 

“My fault. All my fault. I can’t--all dead.”

“No one is dead, Jason, everyone is okay,” Tim said, soon after feeling a small surge of triumph as he located his field fear toxin antidote kit. He opened it, quickly pulling out a small vial, and a syringe.

Jason’s eyes snapped to the syringe in Tim’s hand as he filled with antidote. Jason grew quiet for a second before starting to try to fight Tim off of him, “No, no no no no no no! Don’t go! don’t go! Not again, I can’t be alone, can’t be asleep he’s gonna kill us. Dad said he’ll get rid’f his mistakes!” 

Tim knew Bruce wouldn’t have ever threatened Jason like that. He could only assume Jason meant his biological father. 

“Said he would--don’t, don’t! It’s crushing me I can’t be alone!” Jason couldn’t keep hold of his own fears. They ran together, all mixed in to become some dread filled nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. 

Tim was lucky Jason was so sloppy in this state. If he’d had a bit more of his wits about him, Tim figured Jason would’ve easily shaken him off already.

“You aren’t alone!” Tim reminded Jason, struggling to inject Jason without hurting him. “This is going to make it stop, I promise!” Well, that wasn’t fully true. But the dose would reduce it. 

When Jason wouldn’t hold still enough for him to properly gauge where the vein he needed was, Tim unceremoniously jabbed at where he hoped it was instead. 

Jason shouted, thrashing around like a heavy shark in a net being lifted out of water.

Tim pulled the empty syringe away quickly, letting Jason throw him off. He stumbled and crashed back down, landing on the concrete floor a few feet away. Tim only now realized how heavy his breath was as he watched Jason writhe freely on the floor before him. As Tim caught his breath, Jason’s movements gradually began to slow. The mutterings of fear faded into soft whimpers, then into deep breaths like Tim’s. Tim bit at his lip again. “Jason?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.

Jason groaned in response. He took a moment to collect himself as he grew conscious of reality again. Really, reality was a shit hole too, but it was a better shit hole. He shifted slightly, cussing under his breath. 

Tim felt an invisible weight lift from his shoulders; swearing like a sailor was promising in Jason’s case. 

He quickly scooted across the floor to him. 

“Hey,” Tim said in a hushed voice. “Jason? How you feeling?”

Jason--with what felt like the struggle of Sisyphus rolling his boulder for the millionth time--rolled over to face him. The white shock of hair stuck to Jason’s forehead with panic induced sweat. He puffed out a lungful of air in a feeble attempt to blow the hair from his face. Jason swiftly gave up on that and swallowed heavily.

 “I-I... yeah, yeah, I uh... I--okay. I’m feeling okay,” Jason rambled, looking dazed. He took up scanning the room again, hyper-vigilant to any danger.

Tim nodded slowly. He grabbed a water bottle that was shoved in one of his many pouches. He helped Jason sit up, just enough so he could sip at the water, and forced the bottle into Jason’s hands. 

“Drink,” Tim ordered, quietly. 

Jason’s hands still shook lightly, causing him to fumble with the cap in his hands. 

Now that the danger had passed, Tim finally had time to process what had happened; he often found himself acting and only having time to absorb the details afterwards. Details like that Jason had traded his safety and immunity for Tim’s. 

Why did Jason do that?

“Not... that I’m ungrateful,” Tim began hesitantly, “but that was a stupid thing to do, just… now- today,” he stumbled out awkwardly.

“I know,” gasped Jason after a long chug of water, a weak smile on his lips. 

“I mean--it’s like in those before flight messages on planes. Put your mask on before the baby’s or whatever,” Tim joked slightly. Tim’s nose wrinkled slightly, cringing just the tiniest bit as he realized he implied he was the baby in this situation, “Well, you know what I’m getting at…”

Jason seemed to only take even more amusement out of the teen’s regret. Tim never thought he’d see the day where he felt tension draining at the sigh of Jason Todd, a man that tried to kill him and about eighty other people, smiling. 

Jason laughed weakly, though it came out a little haltingly, as the shivering shakes hadn’t yet subsided. “Yeah, well, I d-did have my mask on. I just... gave it to the k-kid before the plane went down,” he mused. He didn’t really believe in his own point, and shook his head. 

“No, no you’re right. It was stupid and I know that.”

They fell into a slightly awkward silence for a second, the burning question still gnawing at Tim’s mind.

“Why?” Tim said, abruptly. “Er, why did you do that? If you knew it was stupid?”

Jason didn’t answer for a long moment. Instead stalling by taking another swig of water. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before answering.

 “I don’t know,” Jason admitted, with a little smile. 

Jason was breathing heavily, but seemed more focused, “I didn’t... really think. Maybe I was just makin’ up for other stuff I f-fucked up or... dunno. I guess I j-just... I knew if one of us was gonna be safe, it had to be y-ou.”

Jason swore he could practically see the little loading sign twirl in Tim’s nerd-brain as the teen processed what he’d said. The mental loading bar filled, and Jason’s words seemed to click. Tim’s eyes dropped away, and he smiled a little shyly. Not an awkward or uncomfortable smile. Just complimented.

“Thanks,” Tim’s voice was just above a whisper, “ that was... really nice of you.” 

“It’s okay, don’t men-ention it. Like literally ever. It’ll ruin my rep,” Jason cracked a teasing smirk once again and Tim got to his feet laughing lightly.

“Annnnddd he’s back to normal,” Tim chuckled and offered Jason a hand. Tim yanked him, not without obvious difficulty, up to stand tall. Jason leaned on him for a moment before straightening, keeping a hand on Tim’s shoulder to steady himself. Tim quickly bent down and scooped up their masks from the floor where he’d set them down.

“Let’s get you home,” Tim hummed, putting Jason’s arm around his shoulders again when he stood.

“Hey, I’m fin-ne, you don’t have to take me back,” Jason argued, but Tim was already starting to lead him away.

“Too bad, I decided I am.”

“Rep-placement Robin number whatever you are--I am fine!”

“Sure you are, that’s why you can’t stand up right by yourself?”

“Shut up!”

“I speak only truth.”

The two bickered all the way back through away from the docks. All the way back through the city. All the way until they reached Jason’s apartment complex. Then they bickered some more. Though neither knew it yet, what had begun forming was the beginning of a close bond. One that nothing would be able to break.

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• Ch. 11: Under Pressure •

TRIGGER WARNINGS: blatant homophobia from Nicklesmart The Beatboxing Jester™️ in disguise as someone you know, internalized homophobia throughout the whole chapter. As usual, will put a skip marker for the heavier scene before and after if you need/want to skip. It is not light, ngl 😔 [trigger words: f*iry + the f slur, each used on exactly one occasion, and (as an insult) queer. I'm so sorry, this was not easy for me either and please do not read this if any of this in any way bothers you, i won't be mad if you skip the chapter 💕]

A/N: Next chapter will be all fluff I promise 🥲, I'm so sorry, but I needed something that could solidify Richie and Y/n's friendship for good, and her helping him through his worst fear is the best way to do that and will be explored in other ways throughout the rest of the series, specifically in the sequel. all that aside, I missed you guys and this series so much!!

LGBTQ+ RESOURCES AND SELF HELP LINKS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE CHAPTER

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

- 𝗔𝗨𝗚𝗨𝗦𝗧 -

    Richie keeps his eyes trained on the dried mud on his navy blue slip-ons as he makes his way across town, his mind buzzing twice as fast as it normally did. He felt as if his entire body had been put through a blender; his skull still vibrating in his head turning his brain into jelly. His stomach empty and lurching as it twisted into knots far more impossible than what you'd see from a circus performer and his heartbeat could rival a hummingbird's. Not to mention he was walking with two extra legs he'd grow from time to time, another freaky affect the physical and mental toll these past few weeks had put on him and his eyesight. The caffeine he had been living on hadn't helped him one bit either he reckoned.

    Insomnia had become his best friend in the past few weeks, hence this last-minute trip to the old gravel pit just behind Derry Town dump. At least, this was the lie he told himself to pluck up enough courage to call Y/n up. Richie hoped she could talk him through it, give him some advice. He was never this nervous to talk to her and deep down in a corner he wished to bury forever - that small part of himself that begged to be free - knew exactly why. This small, repressed Richie Tozier that lived locked away in the center of his heart was calling the shots that day. Hell, he probably had been his whole life but he wasn't ready to admit that to himself yet, let alone his true attentions of seeking her help.

    All he knew is he was nervous as all hell, his palms were sweating, he couldn't stop fiddling with his glasses and he was sure one wrong move and he'd shit his pants. For fucks sake, he needed to shake this! He had already freaked Y/n out, that he knew. He could still hear her voice over the receiver. It was soaked in static and every 's', or 'c' sound she made felt like a pencil was being shoved into his eardrums cause of her shitty outdated telephone.

    "You," she had asked with a pause. "want to meet at... the dump?"

    "Yeah," he scoffed, scratching the same spot behind his ear for what had to be the billionth time out of nervous habit. "you got wax in your ears, L/n?"

    "Nope. Just, a little confused is all. You seem kinda... I don't know, squirrely," she said wearily, and through a sharp crackling hiss from the receiver he can make out a nervous chuckle on her end. "You sure nothin' jumped up your ass or anything?"

    He bit his lip. Hard. As if punishing himself for drawing her suspicions this early. What if she somehow caught on to what he was gonna talk to her about? Her walk to the gravel pit would surely give her enough time to get to that conclusion, and Richie wasn't daft. He knew he wasn't exactly subtle about... "insomnia". What with how many times he teased insomnia, called it that special nickname he knew it hated but secretly loved. That forbidden flutter in his chest when insomnia would laugh at his jokes, and the small but precious moments they shared from time to time when the others were late that would stay in his heart and mind for weeks to come. But it didn't matter now, as everyone knew; insomnia kept Y/n's company now.

    Thankfully his mouth was faster than his brain, and it fired a rapid response before a lull could form.

    "You bet your fur," he fires, his lanky arm had rested awkwardly against the wall beside the wall mount. "I am right as rain, toots."

    He of course hadn't seen it, but she had frowned at her phone. Her concern was growing with every word spoken from him.

    "Yeah," she snorts, throwing back a sarcastic remark. "Cause you sound it."

    She had eased a bit, growing soft and falling back into their usual banter. Their special dynamic always seemed to coax down his guard a bit.

    "You're talking like a 1950's gangster in a speakeasy," She straightened a little and had begun pacing as much as the phone cord would allow her. "Ya know... More than usual."

    Y/n smiled when she could practically hear the smirk taking over his face, and she certainly had no trouble picturing his hunched shoulders and intimidating snarl he was most likely dawning.

    "It's a little somethin' called moxie, kid," he spoke with curled his words, imitating all the gangsters he had seen in those cheesy old films. "somethin' you just don't have,"

    Y/n had rolled her eyes again, at least Richie could see her doing so when he heard her respond. "Right, right. My bad Baby Face."

    "Hey!" He barked, snapping his fingers and pointing at the floor as if she could see him. His voice lowered in a thick Chicago accent. "That's mista Baby Face to ya."

    "Mista Baby Face Nelson!" She strained, her annoyed shout tainted with a laugh. "Are we meeting at five or not?"

    Richie released a quick and silent breath, expelling as many nerves as possible.

    "You bet your fur."

    The exchange kept playing over and over in his mind and Richie wondered if the same rang true for Y/n. He hoped not, cause that would mean she was thinking about it too much. Hell, he was thinking about it too much now. A heavy sigh rolls off of his chest as every anxiety collectively manifests into its own dark thought.

    Fuck, he really had it bad.

    How pathetic he was.

    Eddie would surely be horrified to know what Richie really thought of him, that was for sure.

    And as if he hadn't felt crazy enough, the thoughts actually began to feel like voices calling him from the darkest shadows of his mind.

    'And the other Losers? You'll be lucky if they even look at you again.'

    Richie was surprised to find himself fighting back, pushing back as much as he could. Despite all the jokes and jabs, he couldn't be completely alone. A small part whispered in his heart that he wasn't, and he thought briefly of the turtle strangely enough but it was gone just as soon as it had come. All he knew was that whatever was telling him this thing was stubborn. But so was Richie Tozier.

    He treated it as an intrusive thought. Made a decision then and there that it was, never occurring to him what it could be if wasn't.

    No way. Not those assholes, he tells the voice. These are the Losers for fucks sake!

    The more he thought about it the more he was sure of it. God forbid Eddie did find out, which Richie had no intention of, and what would happen was in fact unclear. But no matter how he looked at it, he just couldn't picture the little spaghetti man ever cutting him out of his life completely. Not by choice at least.

    Now Ben, that lovable sappy haystack of his that was too passionate for his own good. Richie may not be the silent type but he does pick up on things, and Hanscom's affections for Beverly Marsh were far from subtle. Always opening doors for her and turning redder than a tomato when she smiled at him. Not to mention Richie was about ninety percent sure there was a poem of some sort involved. And that was just Beverly, Ben was always thinking of the Losers. Now Richie knew for sure that boy had no hateful bone in his body to the point it was fucking annoying.

    Mike, Richie felt, might be a little similar. The kid had a lot of heart, always going on about the animals on his farm. Would even go as far to say he considered them his friends, what with how much Richie knew about Mooriuel the calf and he hadn't even met her for cripes sake! Richie imagined he'd be a bit more shocked but would try some sappy speech when he came around. Would make a whole big thing of it, pat him on the back, and even invite a conversation. He scoffed at the thought, the image of Mike slapping him on the back and his signature grin... Yeah, he appreciated the hypothetical gesture but it wasn't Richie's style.

    He could easily see Big Bill sputtering up a storm, but managing a smile. He'd probably even manage to forget their differences long enough to say something stupid but supportive. And Beverly and Stan were the ones he worried about the least. Stan would probably be too indifferent to care, throw him some snarky ass comment like, "took ya long enough, dipshit," and Beverly? Well, Beverly had always been cool, very laid back. She never took shit, and she never dished it out if she didn't think it was deserved which Richie admired greatly. This was one of many reasons he was so shocked she had taken Bill's side in the fight.

    The thought brings him back down again, and as soon as the memory touches him so do the nerves in his jaw tensing up again where he had been hit. He could feel the punch all over again. And he suddenly remembers why he is here.

    He is here, he realized.

    Just around the bend, coming into view was the gravel pit. Old and crumbling it was, and overrun with weeds and bushes. One could easily scale in and out of it, and at the very bottom Rich had discovered one day was a beaten and tattered leather seat from a car that found its way from the junkyard just a ways over. This was where he told Y/n to meet him.

    Y/n...

    Jesus fuck, what would Y/n say? How would he tell her? Would she still wanna be friends with him? Would she laugh and crack a joke, not taking it seriously? Would she hate him for it? More importantly, why in the ever-loving fuck was he here and willing to tell her?

    His gangly legs tumble into a sprint as he picks up momentum descending the uneven terrain. The rubber soles of his shoes kicking up the layers of dirt and shaved gravel that lay beneath the rocks and he had to put effort into not crashing as he comes to a stop. He manages to avoid a nasty fall, completely ignorant to the fact that his right foot had been only inches away from a root peeking out from the rocks surely would have broken his neck had he made even one wrong move. He puffs out his chest, dusting himself off, and once again tries to dispel the nausea broiling in his stomach like hot tar.

    He closes his eyes tiredly as he drags his feet to the leather bench, letting his backside fall through the air and into the somewhat plush cushion with a deep groan. "Fuck."

    His fingers rub his tired eyes, his fingertips finding bits of crust he hadn't gotten earlier and his knuckles brush his glasses further up onto his forehead. Not quite knowing what to do with the overwhelming thoughts and emotions clouding him, his fingers dig further into his eye sockets until all he can see are inky splotches behind his eyes.

    Richie doesn't know why he would ever think those things of Y/n. He hadn't ever told her this, not directly at least, but she was just about the only person in the world he trusted most. He knew in his heart of hearts this was why he found himself dialing her number before he could even register what he was doing. Even after their separation and the bitter feelings they took with it, the Losers were and always would be his best friends in the world.

    So why did everything about this feel so wrong?

    From the moment the phone call ended, he felt like he was waltzing into a trap like some putz...

    "Well, look who it is..." snarled a voice from up above the surface.

    Richie's blood ran cold and it felt as if the remainder of the air in his lungs had been squeezed out like air in a deflating balloon. He whipped around at the voice, his head twisting up at the silhouetted figure so fast he was shocked he hadn't broken his own neck. The figure held their hands on their hips, thousands of the sun's rays spilling around them as they blocked out a part of the sun, an advantage they reaped from where they stood before Richie at just the right angle. His breath caught in his throat as he had recognized the voice immediately, but the figure didn't quite match the voice.

    The last thing person he needed to see right now was Henry fucking Bowers, that was for sure.

    The universe agreed so it would seem. The figure shifted, just out of the light revealing the teasing smirk of his best friend Y/n. Her hands snapped together, her palms forming a handgun, the barrel aiming right at Richie's forehead.

    "The jig is up," she snarled. "We knows it was you. You was the ones to steal from Big Bill's dame, and I wouldn't be surprised if yous was in cahoots, neithers."

    Despite the fear that had clutched his heart only seconds ago, a small chortle left Richie at how awful her accent was. Hadn't she learned anything from him? A smug smile overtook Y/n's face as he broke. She holstered her handguns and gracefully descended the pile of gravel. His smile expired not long after, and despite the thin veil of clouds creeping over the sun the light in the sky was much too hard to even glance at his friend without blinking back several painful searing tears from the harsh light. But he could still make her out.

    She was dressed in her usual ratty and eclectic garb; a mix of something far too big for her frame and something that seemed far too tight to be comfortable. Richie was certain she had never once owned even a thread of clothing that had always been hers. Her s/c brow had its usual, light glossy sheen of grease that Richie had learned very early on to not ask about. But there was something about her now, something he couldn't quite place.

    Though one question kept popping up in his mind. One that left an itch in his brain he couldn't quite scratch in his dazed state. And that was how could he have possibly thought she sounded like Henry Bowers?

    He finds himself looking down at the gravel now, wiping away as much of the sun's damage pooling in his eyes as he can. Unbeknownst to him, she watches him studiously, the ghost of her smile still on her lips as if she was enjoying his discomfort. His long and gangly limbs are folded awkwardly, still, onto the leather seat that sits on the ground. Finally, she takes a seat beside him with a huff as he had.

    As he rubs his tired eyes for a second time she takes a long look around, breaking the silence when her trip around the gravel pit lands on him.

    "Well, you've looked better." She quips, offering a smile.

    Richie snorts, pushing his slipping glasses up the bridge of his nose with a friendly smirk. "This comin' from Raggedy Ann?"

    They both breathe a small laugh and for a moment - just one beautiful, fleeting moment - Richie forgets he was ever scared. This is what he needed.

    "So," she says, pulling his gaze towards her, sending him a cocky smile as a knowing look sparkles behind her eyes. "I'm guessing there's a reason I'm here, and not helping you with your summer training?"

    Richie, for reasons unknown to him, feels his muscles tense up again involuntarily. Like a puppeteer suddenly yanking the strings, ripping his shoulders up to his ears and his muscles bracing. He felt rigid and he was, but he was doing all he could not to show it. All his unease came back in steady waves marching up the sand, but what could he do now? He could already feel her eyes burning holes into the side of his head as he kicked around a sizeable rock with the toe of his shoe, studying him. Waiting.

    Finally, his shoulders slumped in a shrug, lower lip in an indifferent pout as he looked around at the sky hanging above the gravel pit.

    "Just needed a change from all those ugly mugs, I guess," he manages a laugh, and he rises to his feet to lazily chase the rock that had rolled out of his reach.

    He can feel her eyes on him still, and he doesn't know what to make of it until finally she breaks her silence with a chuckle and rises to join him. She catches the rock with the heel of her dirtied sneakers. They're worn down to the very last thread and several shades off from the original color. She kicks the rock back to him, and they engage in a lazy game of rock soccer.

    "I can understand that," she says calmly, eyes trained on the rock as it tumbles across the gravel with several chunky clanks. "Reckon it'll be good for you, too,"

    He frowns confused without looking up at her, winding one lanky leg back before one big kick. "Whad'ya mean?"

    "Well, you don't wanna spend your whole summer inside of an arcade, do you?"

    Richie's face freezes in a frown, the rest of his body going rigid. His eyes cement on the rock underneath his shoe, willing away the veil of tears that threatened to fall. Had he not been so caught up on why he was here, Richie might have had a clear enough head to realize Y/n wasn't there for that conversation, nor had she heard about it from anyone there. Instead, all Rich can think about is the small hypochondriac boy that had stolen his heart.

    He can hear the conversation he had with his best friend, all those weeks ago when school let out. And if felt like a lifetime since he had seen that squishable, pouty little disgusted frown Eddie always put on that made Richie's inside melt. As if reading his mind, Y/n spoke.

    "This is about Eddie, isn't it?"

    Her tone is gentle but veiled. Something was concealed about the way she held herself, ever since she had arrived, something that Richie couldn't quite place. And there it was. He was right about her suspecting him, he must be. Richie battles the lump forming in his throat, and he can feel his ears turning pink under her unwavering and unblinking stare.

    Richie does all he can to fight a snarky response, not knowing how else to navigate and survive the intensity of his feelings. All he manages to do is nod.

[■■■■■■■■■■■■]

    "Rich, it's okay," she says, taking a step forward, his gaze is pulled to her eyes. And here it is, he thinks. The moment he had been dreading, the moment he hadn't even allowed himself to think about. "...I miss him, too."

    His face caught in another frown. That's definitely not what he expected her to say. Quickly as he could, he wiped away a spot of snot at his nose. He had managed to keep the tears at bay but now they had found another way out. He felt like a fucking fool, and he wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Of course she didn't know what he was talking about. Why would she - how would she? His spirits were crushed, and he suddenly didn't feel like getting into it now. She seemed off today, not that Richie cared. All he wanted was for this whole day to be over with, not even knowing the worst had yet to come.

    She studies his reaction, almost as if she had been waiting for this and she blinks for what Richie is now starting to realize must be the first time since she got here. Y/n's face screws into a frown, and yet there still lingered an uneasy smile that taunted him. Her eyes squint suspiciously at Richie, her head tilting in an expression he never knew he had always feared would come.

    She laughs finally, a shrill and grating laugh he hadn't quite heard before and she nudges him playfully. "Oh, come on! It's not like you've got some faggy crush on him or something?"

    When he doesn't answer, she scoffs, turning away and shaking her head in disbelief for a moment.

    Richie felt he just might vomit. Or cry. Or both. He had never felt so distraught, so dejected. So broken.

    How could she be saying these things?

    He tries with all his might to conjure a response, any fucking thing at all so he wasn't some blubbering broken chump breaking down in front of her. But for the first time in his life, Richie "loudmouth" Tozier was speechless.

    That fuck-awful grating laugh returns, a sour look screws up her face as she looks him up and down in disgust.

    "Wait, seriously?" She gapes with a scoff, making him feel about two inches tall. "You actually think he'd want to be with some fairy freak like you?"

    "F-f-uck off," he sputters, though he does not feel better.

    The trembling in his voice, the vulnerability, hearing it in himself strips any remaining scrap of confidence he had left. He's crying now and there's no hiding it. And she heard it in his voice, he knew that now as he looks at her. Her lips curl into a malicious smile and she takes another step closer, Richie fumbles a step back.

    "He isn't some," her nose crinkles as she continues to advance on him, the fire in her eyes building as he stumbles back to escape her sudden venom. "rotten queer like you."

    Y/n spits the words out like they were poison on her tongue, and this was true in every way. Her fiery stare never left Richie, it burned holes right through him as she advanced on him like a wolf on a wounded doe. They were nearing the edge of the gravel pit, and Richie had nearly run out of room when her finger stabbed his chest like a sword's final strike to the heart, pushing him to the ground as she spoke those poisonous words.

    Richie felt his backside meet several jagged rocks that brought even more tears to his eyes, though none of them hurt as much as her words. She towered over him now, the sun beating down on her back and pouring over her shoulders, trapping Richie in her shadow. She shakes her head, and he can still make out the pathetic look on her face as she glowers at him.

    "It's girls he likes. It's me he likes." she points to herself, shaking her head. "He was mine the second he saw me, but you?"

    She scoffs again, and her shadow releases him as she kneels to balance on her feet, legs folded before him with a snide look.

    "You've always been the insufferable loudmouth he couldn't get rid of." A sharp laugh escapes her, the clutch on his heart tightening to dangerous amounts he fears it will give out. "Well, I guess he doesn't have to worry about that now, huh?"

    His heart feels as if it has been ripped to shreds, the claws of the wolf had struck and now he was drowning in his own sorrows as pain as the heartbreak filled his lungs. Richie could no longer see behind the thick wall of glassy tears that blanketed his eyes, and the sounds of his own sobs amplified his embarrassment and despair. He was hopelessly broken, and he could feel himself crumble, each piece disappearing amongst the gravel underneath him until he couldn't be found. He blinked only once, but it was enough to send every tear racing down his cheek at once.

    Another malicious smile contorts her face, her e/c eyes burning darker until they looked almost a completely different shade. Her lips seemed to stretch on and on and on in a way only one thing could. And it was then that it occurred to him.

    Not one thing she had said to him is something he could have ever prepared himself for, each word constricting his heart and lungs and swelling his throat with the ever-growing lump.

    Nor was any of it something she would ever dream of saying, he knew this now.

[■■■■■■■■■■■■]

    This wasn't Y/n, this was never Y/n. She had never showed, and if he hadn't been so wrapped up in his own fucking head he would have caught on from the second "Y/n" arrived. Especially that entrance, Y/n surely would have fallen on her ass on her way down into the gravel pit never mind the fact her accent wouldn't be nearly as shit.

    But none of this mattered now. This thing that looked like his friend had him cornered, and It knew it.

    A wicked grin overtook the mask of Y/n's face that chilled Richie to his bones, and yet it also reassured him. Y/n was tough and could be scary from time to time, but he knew she could never be capable of the pure evil that now danced in It's eyes. Richie's body was already in motion, his arms and legs scrambling for any sort of grip that could take him up the side of the pit and to safety. But the gravel beneath him was always shifting, rolling out from underneath him when it wasn't raking his palms to pieces and all he was accomplishing was a small plume of dust that clung to his backside.

    Richie didn't know where it came from, but his actions were faster than his feelings as his fist collided with It's nose. And no sooner did the heel of his shoe collide in a painful crack that sent It's head back, did his eyes widen in horrific shock. The painful crack that would surely haunt him for many nights to come, had not been from the collision of his heel on It's nose but It's head - or Y/n's as this was still It's disguise - had snapped completely back and dangled completely off It's/her shoulders.

    The only thing connecting her head to her shoulders was the suit of s/c skin. Protruding from the center of her neck just under the skin was the end of her spine where it had disconnected, giving away a disturbing lack of muscles and veins in her neck as if it had been hollowed out like a pumpkin. Her head rolled back and forth limply, and Richie could feel bile climbing up his throat, ready to burst out his digested mac and cheese.

    His mind was screaming at his legs to run while all was still but a small part of him knew this was all a gambit, that it didn't matter if she was frozen stiff or not. Richie knew as soon as he booked it, It would spring to life with something even more twisted. That now, without his friends, he was as good as dead.

    And It was more than happy to prove Richie right.

    The clone of his friend sprang to life, It's head still rolling around on It's shoulders. Connected only by the skin of It's neck, and moving around like some fucked up slinky toy. Richie was already halfway up the gravel pit, bits of rock and dirt finding their way into his shoes as he kicked up the earth though that was the farthest thing from his mind.

    By the time Richie reached the top of the pit, he could no longer hear the thunderous boom of his heart attempting to break loose from his chest, which was saying an awful lot. His screams echoed out into the air only to be swallowed by the screams of other children and Richie didn't know how he knew this but he knew those were the screams of Betty Ripsom, Ed Corcoran... Georgie Denbrough. The bloodied screams of It's victims were drowning Richie as he ran for the junkyard, and he wondered if he might live to hear them stop.

    The screams were so fucking loud in his ears he could see them. Each of them a blinding, deafening, gut-wrenching, and blood-curdling scream that danced through the air like ribbons as they begged for their lives. Richie cried out and he couldn't even hear his own voice, but he didn't let this stop his legs from pumping as hard as they possibly could. He was nearly to the junkyard, surely he could use something to fend It off but he knew he was just buying time.

    He could taste the blood on his tongue from where his teeth bit into his cheek. In all his short life, Richie Tozier would not have guessed child-eating clown to be the way he'd kick the can. When ever the thought of death began troubling him, he always liked to picture something like a western. Him and his rightful enemy squaring off against good and evil, he'd shoot first and save the day but still sustain an injury and bleed out. But it'd be a hero's death. And that was something.

   But this... this was something born out of darker than evil and Richie was about to be pulled into the gravity well of this black hole and swallowed up. And he knew in his soul, the very pits of his stomach it would reach out with its shadowy arms and pull him into darkness.

    And it did.

    Richie had been rapidly approaching the edge of the junkyard without realizing and within an instant found himself on the ground, caved in on himself as he tumbled in the dirt and rocks accepting he was to join them soon enough. He closed his eyes and waited for death as a hand curled around his shoulder and pulled him around. Another jolt of shock shot through his entire body at the sudden contact, locking his jaw and paralyzing his entire body in fear as he was met with the new threat. He didn't dare open his eyes, and certainly not when he heard his best friend's voice again.

    "Richie! Richie?"

    It was her again, he realized. Y/n's real voice, the one that he heard on the telephone that was dripped in static. The one now dripped in fear.

   "Richie?!"

    When the boy opened his eyes, they were filled with terror and his sobs continued. A lense Y/n never thought she'd see Richie look at her through. Her heart broke in an instant when she realized he was afraid... of her. Instantly, she released him and let her backside fall back into the gravel. She watched through a thick wall of tears as he trembled, crying to himself, and never in all her life had she seen Richie Tozier so broken.

    It tore her apart.

    She didn't have to be a genius to realize what had happened here. Before she had even reached the junkyard on her bike she had heard his screams strangled through the wall of trees gating the area. When she had reached the gravel yard, she was happy to see him still in one piece but he was running for his life from an invisible force. The damn coward had gotten what It wanted and scared him shitless, but why would he disappear just because she showed? She had wondered.

    Now she was beginning to understand. It didn't need to be here to scare her. Just the sight of Richie in such a state was enough to tear her down and it took just about everything in her not to scream into the sky from a mix of fury and fear.

    Besides the tears that race down her cheeks and wet her legs, all Y/n could feel was a painfully numbing fear. Fear that Richie would never be the same. Fear that Richie would never speak to her again. Fear that Richie would never trust her again. Fear for whatever the fucking hell that thing did to Richie. Fear that It would do it again.

    All she felt now was fear for Richie.

    Y/n doesn't bother to fight the sob that breaks loose, her bottom lip quivers violently and her arms fall to the gravely pavement beneath her. As if her head had filled with lead, it grew heavy enough to fall into her chest where her chin landed, shaking several more tears loose.

    "I'm s-so sorry, Richie,"

    Y/n yearns to say more, but her body is physically weak from sadness and shame. Yet still, she repeats it in her mind hoping with everything in her it slips out of her mouth, or maybe if she thought them loud enough he'd hear them in his mind.

    I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry for whatever happened. I'm so goddamn sorry...

    "I'm sorry," she whimpers. "I promise..."

    I promise I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise I'm not gonna hate you. I promise I'm gonna be there for you, from now on. I promise.

    Her sniffles blend with his own, and Richie is unsure why this is the moment he knows for sure this is the real Y/n before him; maybe he was just too exhausted to think it through, perhaps it was the godawful sound she was making trying to keep herself from snotting as bad as he was but he knew It had gone. And the Y/n sitting beside him — crying with him, was the one he dialed up today. This was the Y/n he had been prepared to bare his soul to. His true self.

    So with one shaky hand — the other still tucked in close to his chest — Richie's left hand slid out from under him and across the gravel to Y/n's open palm. Her fingers were digging into the gravel, sharp edges of the rock digging into her skin as if to assure herself she was really real. Suddenly, she felt Richie's shaky palm slide underneath hers, carefully taking it.

    Y/n picked her glassy stare up from the ground to look at their intertwined hands, and she melted a little. Several of those fears — not all of them, but some — were ebbed away and she looked to Richie. He was still curled up in the dirt, his eyes closed and silent tears streaking his dirt-covered face. Each tear paved a path of clean skin, washing the dirt away in wild streaks where ever each tear had fallen. Several large and swollen beads of tears collected at his chin where they dangled, threatening to fall.

    She gave his hand a squeeze, letting him know she was there for him as she had promised him. And she was ready to sit with him for as long as he needed.

    For hours that feel only like minutes, they sit together in tear-filled silence, clinging to one another's presence and the knowledge that they are now all they have left.

    And there was no way they were letting go.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Here are some LGBTQ+ resources for mental health and self help if you feel you need them:

How do I find LGBTQ friendly therapy?

An article on safe ways to find the best sources of help that are right for you

The Trevor Project

Self Care Tips for Trans and Non Binary Folks

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