#wish everyone wasn't so quick to jump to conclusions before looking into the facts.

[dalennaugw]

Seeing people leaving some of the social spaces around here, at this time, is making the pit of my stomach feel like it's falling out.

[meadowsofmay]

a warning for a father:

thranduil felt it pulsing through the woods — trouble, panic, terror — and the unsteady beat became more erratic as it grew faster. he tried to call for an answer, reaching out to the sick forest but none came, only murmurs of something terrible, wheezes in-between scared trunks and darkness closing under thick canopies tied with webs somewhere up high. he felt as if he is caught in a trap and it is about to close around him, loudly pronouncing to everyone that it was that easy to catch him out of all.

the air grew stale in the walls of his halls. thranduil paced around not able to catch his breath, not able to fill his lungs enough to stop the anxiety from squeezing his ribcage more till it will break. sudden steps behind the doors made him grab the hilt of his sword attached heavily to his hip — thranduil realized only at that how tense he was for his blade never weighted him down as it did at that very moment.

and for he doesn't remember when was the last time he was ready to draw it because his emotions took best of him.

feren walked in, his steps uncharacteristically loud and heavy for thranduil's alert senses. he looked pale, thranduil noticed, not getting closer and keeping to the entrance as if he'd be ready to run back after reporting whatever has brought him here. thranduil didn't ask a question but the expectant look and the sudden stillness of time itself was enough for the guard to announce, more like let the strained words out gundabad sent a messenger.

thranduil felt his composure waver. and it wasn't about the fact that the hated foe decided to contact him out of the blue but for the nature herself was screaming in his ears danger!. he gulped audibly and grabbed his sword again, the fake sense of security seeping into his numb fingers, allowing his voice not to fail him.

bring him in then.

he wishes to speak outside, my lord. he says it was his order.

feren looked conflicted at best, reminding thranduil of a tightly compressed spring that was ready to jump into action only give it an opportunity. and any other day, thranduil would allow it, with a wave of his hand setting feren free to pass the orders but today he knew better. he followed his lead to the front gate.

and now, he was here. before the carved heavy gates, almost ready to come out and face whatever it was that their enemy brought him.

straightening his back and raising his head, he stepped out leaving terrified guards behind without hesitation. yet, he had to admit that the sound of the strings tightening under the pull of their skilled fingers comforted him a little.

what brings you here? he asked making a quick stop before the bridge. he listened to the surroundings, to the wind carrying the foul smell full of malice before at last he eyed the orc on the opposing end.

and it was almost as if he was allowed to dwell on his anxious conclusions before the orc started to talk. bowing, he rasped:

my master has a gift for the elvenking, his uneven mouth stretched into an ugly snarling smile. but before allow me to... he started as he pulled a bow and a quiver form behind his back. thranduil's eyes widened. he gasped, stepping closer.

legolas!

we found it in the forest a couple of days ago, the orc talked slowly, dragging the words off his tongue, thought it might be one of yours...

he was mocking the elvenking's mere existence, not scared of at least the dozen elf-guards keeping him on their arrows' point. he had power and he relished in it, for he had the elvenking in the palm of his hand only with a sight of his son's weapons.

thranduil understood now what the woods were trying to tell him but he was just so deaf to their warnings. legolas left with his company on the patrol three nights ago and was meant to return tomorrow, the task as easy as any other when the enemy roamed around freely in the land the elves refused to give up. thranduil felt his mask of carful composure crumble. they found out about legolas at last.

where is my son? he snapped, finally drawing his sword.

don't be so impatient, my lord, the orc was almost laughing now, extending his arm with the bow and quiver for thranduil to come and take. he was pulling the strings so expertly that thranduil didn't know what to do only to follow the silent offer and crossethe bridge. the clearance of mind completely forgotten the moment golden carvings touched his fingers.

where is my son? thranduil knew his restraint was growing thinner to the point where he was about to cut the the orc's throat right here and there without finishing their conversation. he needed to know if legolas was alive.

he's here, the answer took thranduil by surprise for he didn't even notice the small chest under the orc's arm. the one that he took out, smiled widely up at the elvenking and tauntingly slow opened the lid with a squeak.

his dark, inflamed eyes waited with feral excitement for thranduil's reaction, tracing every part of his face with hunger for any emotion. and yet, thranduil didn't dare to look down right away.

he thought about every possible thing that could possibly be in the chest this small — orcs are malicious, cruelty is the blood of their creation and thranduil feared to see what they came up with for his son. the tremble run through his body.

he looked into the chest.

what is this?!

don't you recognize, my lord? think! think with this pretty head of yours.

but thranduil just couldn't believe. he gaped wordlessly. inside there, laid out in a meticulously careful way, were legolas' hair — the same golden flicker of roughly cut strands, the wave of almost untangled braids that usually are braided tight and neat. thranduil gasped seeing splutters of blood, he drew the air in so abruptly he choked, a silent cry of the father's broken heart. he payed absolutely mind to the clatter of the arrows falling out of legolas' quiver as it collided with the hard groud, slipped out of thranduil's hands like the control he had over his son's safety.

he couldn't find it in himself to touch, shaking fingers hovering over the chest. the orc let go of the lid and it slammed thranduil's hands suddenly.

he's alive, the orc mused, but not for long... it's either him or you, my lord.

and it's like he was snapped back into reality. inside he felt it shaking, prickling at his eyes like the most acid smell — anger took over him, consuming every sane bit of his conscience. thranduil knew what he ought to do.

he was gonna make them pay.

but not before he'd bring his son home.

[rebelscaped]

Kael finally threw back a mouthful of his drink, the contents burning their way down his throat. He thought he had known what he was signing up for when he came here and he'd lived a hectic enough life to handle most of what was thrown at him but he hadn't been expected quite so much to happen quite so soon. It was as though he'd walked into a storm or marched headfirst into a riot. The threat of a great splitting headache seemed to loom over him. But, all the same, he was just the new guy. Sure, his timing had been bad and he'd barely had time to adjust to his new surroundings before shit hit the fan but there was no way in Hell he was having a harder time than this than the rest of them, the ones who had put years of their life into this gang. Kael could practically see the weight of it all pressing down on Cyrek's shoulders. He took a long sip of his drink and sighed. "Stella did great," he said, "But I don't feel good taking too much credit. I've probably got my work cut out getting the rest of 'em on my good side. Who in their right mind likes the guy who shows up out of the blue and starts acting like he's in charge?" The words were spoken with humour and without any hint of self-depreciation. He didn't fancy himself much of a leader either but it wasn't for lack of confidence; it was an entirely neutral conclusion, he just wasn't that kind of person. "You're a lot better at this shit than me."

Kael knew how to at least try and comfort a friend in need, a friend who was in distress and a friend who was grieving. And, Evren was one of his own kind; they'd come from the same place, hadn't they? Their kids were friends with Hana. Even without the Bastards, the Fawn family mattered to Kael. He wasn't exactly the most tactful nor was he that good at navigating emotions, his or anybody else's, but he cared about the people around him enough to do and say whatever he could. It was a natural reaction. Cyrek's other questions, however, were a lot trickier. "As for who framed us, I ain't got a clue" Kael shrugged. It was a perfectly useless response but he hadn't been around quite long enough to assess the situation all that well. This used to be what he was good at, hanging in the back and watching. They'd always taught him that he smart, quick to think and to move, but he was impulsive. He could clutter together a plan in moments but whether or not he'd keep to it was another question altogether. But he'd barely been in Anchorage long enough to know who was a friend and who was a foe. "I don't think it matters right now, not as much as why we were framed," he went on. "Reckon we're just a lazy scapegoat? Or is that wishful thinking?" This was punctuated with a shit-eating grin. Make no mistake, he took the situation seriously but, God, it was ridiculous enough to make him laugh. It felt like the only way to get through it without losing his wits

Which one was Sky again? Oh yeah, the rich kid. Kael hadn't asked about the guy's background nor had he been in the States long enough to start recognising the son's of millionaires but he'd figured it out for himself. It was a conclusion to which he'd quickly jumped, mostly because he'd never been a big fan of the wealthy. (Y'know, if the fact he'd joined a punk band wasn't its own giveaway.) He wasn't particular sorry about being judgemental. Kael was half-slumped over the edge of the table, so that he could hear every last word without looking too conspiratorial. If there really were eyes and ears all over the place, it wouldn't do to be obvious. "You smell a rat, huh?" he mused. "Not a problem; I already need to get on everyone's good side, yeah? That's an easy excuse for checking up on him." Another long sip of his drink. He stretched his arms over his head as though working out a crick in his neck. "I might be a bit rusty now, but keeping watch should be easy enough."

Cyrek chose the hierarchy of bikers meticulously for one borne of fecklessness, the kind where the steam rolled off of the asphalt and wounds weren't so quick to heal. A straight-laced reminiscence of a blade jutting up from the right side of his jaw was credence enough to the vitriol he was inclined to soak in, the reflection of his countenance distorted in the colored liquid of old-fashioned whiskey. Kael had a point — and one that the vocalist could agree with whole-heartedly on the front of anarchy, and perhaps, on a clandestine rung of intimacy and trust that only two of the closest friends could share. He'd bestowed the positions with a potential for leading only to those who were close enough to be deserving, albeit he was calling into question Fallon at the fourth-in-line of that list, should something spring a leak. "Yeah, well, what do you think of it? I don't got a damn clue who might be the framer." Benny had it out for the gang, as an ex-affiliate... however, he didn't believe the dealer to be that precocious. Smarminess negated for critical thinking so intimate.

In truth, it should be the last subjectivity on his mind. He couldn't help the paranoia that began to arise superficially, though. Craning his head over his shoulder, he peered around their secluded corner of the bar in Scaredy Cat Club. Business was unusually dragging, that evening. Vigilant alertness laxed, his shoulders slacking as he turned back, lifting his own glass to caress heart-shaped tiers, muttering, "I dunno how to not give myself a hard time." Evren's incident still felt like... his fault, as the motorcycle accident years ago had — he was helpless to assuage the situation that had unfolded between the two Bastards members with the law, but maybe if he hadn't saddled Fallon with so much responsibility... His head started to spin, knocking the glass back and chugging it. A rough cough escaped when the glass hit the table, his hands withdrawing beneath the counter to pull down the hem of his Playboy hoodie ( graciously gifted by aforementioned spouse. ) "There's a whole shitstorm goin' on with Fallon now," he spoke grimly, pinching the bridge of his nose and grimacing, "You and Stella did a good job makin' sure shite didn't just... fuckin' explode, but —" It was different than when they were ludicrous teenagers that thought they owned the world. He leaned on his elbows, a palm propping his chin as he outstretched the other for the bottle between them, pouring out a glass. "Thanks... I think."

Setting the bottle down and flicking it to slide it back in the tail gunner's direction, he paused. "There's somethin' that bothers me 'bout all this..." Ginger curls curtained his countenance as he cradled the glass to imbibe the alcohol, the pleasant buzz dulling the nausea steadfast to grind through his stomach acid. "The girl. Sky hired us to investigate into her, 'cause I guess he thinks she had somethin' to do with the shit that went down earlier this year..." Squinting, heterochromatic eyes slid back to Kael's gaze, leaning closer should anyone walk by. "I don't know him that well. You keep an eye on him, yeah? Try to find out if he's settin' us up. Somethin' isn't right." Hooking his fingers together, one arm now draped over the back of the chair, he arched his slit brow. "S'weird that when we're on her trail, she gets the axe."

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Imagine # 775

2,183 - Words

Gif NOT mine. (Found on Pinterest.)

If this gif is yours (or you know who's it is) please let me know, so I can give you/them credit.

Gif credit goes to - Unknown.

Year posted - 2021

----

Curled up in bed comfortably, (Y/n) tried desperately to fall asleep. Yet as the minutes ticked by she found herself restless, and inevitably annoyed. With a distraught sigh (Y/n) sat up in bed, flinging her blankets away from her body. The moment the cool air of her room hit her bare legs (Y/n) shivered, but as she rubbed her face tiredly, a loud ringing sound rang through the room. The sound and pitch being loud enough to make (Y/n) cry out, her hands covering her ears and her eyes screwed shut. Hissing in pain she fell from her bed, but instead of hitting the floor she continued to fall. In an instant her eyes sprung open and (Y/n) screamed, she was falling from the sky at rapid speed. She hit the pavement with a painful grunt, the air being knocked from her lungs, and her head spinning. Dr. Schreber had nearly jumped out of his skin when this strange looking woman landing a few feet away from him on the sidewalk. "Ah." (Y/n) hissed under her breath as she tried to move, freezing when she someone called out to her. "Don't move!" Schreber cried out with worry, as he hobbled to her side as quickly as he could. (Y/n) frowned as she looked up to the man, as he slowly knelt beside her, his hands upon her face as he looked into her eyes. "I'm a Doctor." He murmured softly, as he continued to observe her, looking for any wounds. "Where am I Doc?" (Y/n) licked her lips, holding back a hiss of pain as he helped her sit up. "You don't know?" He frowned a little confused. "Look Doc about twenty seconds ago I was laying in my bed in (Y/h/t), next thing I know there was this deafening ringing, then I was falling from the sky." (Y/n) pointed to the dark sky, to which Schreber looked up, half expecting to see some portal or something. "How I didn't die on impact is freaking me out." (Y/n) added before she observed her surroundings, frowning as she took note of the cars lining the streets. "Check that... This place is freaking me out." She looked to the Doctor, who looked rather alarmed and nervous. "I-I can help you." He stammered. "How?" (Y/n) wondered aloud as she stood to her feet, the cold night air nipping at her exposed skin, as she stood there in her night time attire. "I can't e-explain here, please come with me." The Doctor looked around frantically, walking off in the opposite direction a moment later.

Following the Doctor (Y/n) ignored the strange looks she was receiving from the people they passed. "I-its safer in here." He waved for her to follow, leading her into the indoor pool. "Safe from what, Jason Voorhees?" (Y/n) murmured to herself, her eyes almost hypnotically casting to the ceiling, smiling faintly at the sight of its artistic beauty. "You can change in here." The Doctor showed (Y/n) into a more private room. "Excuse me?" (Y/n) arched a brow at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's safer in the water, please trust me. I want to help you." He encouraged her, and while part of her told her these were some serious red flags, she indulged his wish. Stepping into the room she found a locker with a clean swimsuit, however when she looked at it she sneered. "So not happening." She sighed under her breath, looking around she attempted to find something more to her liking. However after a few minutes with no success she simply exited the room, finding the Doctor waiting in the water. "You didn't change." He pointed out with a distraught frown. "Please you need-" (Y/n) was quick to silence him by holding her hand up. "You're the strangest Doctor I've ever met, however I feel inclined to trust you. But before I do as you ask, I want to know your name." (Y/n) rest her wight on one hip, propping her opposite hand onto the opposite hip. "M-my name i-is Doctor Daniel Schreber." He stammered with a small blush, his eyes involuntarily trailing up her bare legs. "My names (Y/f/n) (Y/l/n)." She introduced herself before she stripped herself of her tee shirt and shorts, leaving her in a matching set of bra and panties. "Oh!" Daniel squeaked in surprise, quickly averting his eyes elsewhere.

(Y/n) sat at the edge of the pool before she slipped in slowly, the temperature difference sending a shiver up her spine. "So Doctor Schreber, why are we here?" (Y/n) asked as she slowly swam closer to his side, tilting her head with a faint smile at Daniels nervousness to look at her. "B-because t-this." He cut himself off, taking a deep breath before he continued. "This is the safest place to talk." He explained, trying to focus his eyes on (Y/n)'s, finding the sight of the supple looking flesh of her breasts almost unbearable. "Safest from who?" (Y/n) asked as she moved to sit beside Daniel. "The Strangers." He pushed his glasses up a little, quickly glancing around them to make sure they were alone. "Please... I need you to tell me everything that happened, before they find us." Daniel was almost whispering. "I already did. I was at home trying to fall asleep, but I couldn't. In my frustration I pushed off my blankets and was rubbing my face when this loud ringing started. I covered my ears and fell from my bed, but I never hit my bedroom floor. Instead I just kept falling, when I opened my eyes I was falling from the sky. I hit the ground, and then you came to me." (Y/n) explained, only confusing Daniel further. "Where did you come from?" He murmured with a tilt of his head. "(Y/h/t)?" (Y/n) frowned with confusion. "I've never heard of it." Daniel mirrored her frown. "Am I dead Doctor Schreber?" (Y/n) whispered softly. "No I don't think so." Daniel shook his head dismissively. "Then why is this place familiar to me?" (Y/n) whispered even quieter. "I don't know... I've never seen you before... I've never seen anyone like you before." Daniel admitted, quickly sparring a glance at one of her tattoos. "Good observation Doctor." A voice called out as a tall man dressed in all black entered the room, Daniel gasped in surprise, fear pooling within his eyes. While (Y/n) simply looked at the new man with questioning eyes. "Who are you?" (Y/n) asked, ignoring the fact that Daniel was swimming back to stay away from the approaching man. "Mr. Book." He stood up a little straighter. "Right." (Y/n) rose her brows with mocked sarcasm. "And who are you?" Mr. Book asked in a bored tone. "(Y/n)." She only offered her first name, not trusting this man like she had the Doctor. "Well then (Y/n) I suggest you get out of the water." Mr. Book waved his hand towards the pool ladder. "And if I don't want to?" (Y/n) argued. "(Y/n) please do as he says." Daniel whispered pleadingly. "You should listen to the Doctor." Mr. Book mused, (Y/n) looked to Daniel, finding his fearful gaze locked onto her. "Fine." She exited the pool, Daniel following behind her when Mr. Book demanded his presence as well.

"Sleep." Mr. Book waved his hand in front of (Y/n)'s face, who frowned at him. "What are you doing?" She scowled taking a small step back, both Mr. Book and Daniel looking at her with astonishment. "Sleep." Mr. Book tried again, this time however (Y/n) shoved his hand away. "Fuck off." She hissed, thoroughly annoyed with the pale humanoid being. "Fascinating." Daniel muttered with an amazed grin. Mr. Book however was not quite so amused, trying to throw her back like a ragdoll with his powers. "Why are you looking at me like that?" (Y/n) frowned at the stranger. "What are you?" The stranger frowned when his powers failed to work on her. "I could ask you the same question." (Y/n) retorted, unknowingly making Daniel internally snicker. "You're coming with us." Mr. Book concluded, two more of his companions entering the building. "No." (Y/n) crossed her arms, ignoring the cold chill that ran down her body, caused by both the beings presence, and the fact that she was still dripping wet from the pool. "That wasn't a request." He retorted as he pulled out a knife, Daniel wanted to intervene, but he was afraid it would only make matters worse. However (Y/n) simply rolled her eyes as she uncrossed her arms, pushing passed Mr. Book she grabbed her clothes and pulled them back on. "Fine." She sighed as she re approached him, crossing her arms again. Daniel found her bravery both admirable, and worrying. Mr. Book allowed Daniel to get dressed before he and his companions escorted them out of the building, leading them down below into the strangers lair. As (Y/n) observed her surroundings, she linked her arm with Daniels, momentarily starting the man. She smiled softy at that, leaning in to his side she whispered into his ear. "I remember why this is so familiar now." His eyes widened as he turned his head to look at her, a blush fanning his cheeks when she winked, keeping her arm linked with his.

"I'm of no danger to you all you know." (Y/n) stated casually, Mr. Book stopped walking, turning to look at her. "I've been trying to will that knife of yours through you, and it ain't working." She whispered dramatically, her free hand beside her mouth. "I can't do what you do, your mojo just don't work on lil old me." (Y/n) added with a small giggle. "How can you know what we were thinking?" Mr. Book glowered down at her. "I don't know what you're thinking, I just happen know what conclusion you all jumped to, because well I hate to be the one to tell you. But you're not real, at least not in my world. In my world you're all just characters in a movie that come out in the late 90s. However by the looks of things, this is set before that timeline." (Y/n) shrugged casually, her words momentarily stunning everyone within ear shot. "He's played by Kiefer Sutherland, one of my all time favorite actors." She added pointed her free hand to Daniel. "I just didn't realize it earlier, guess I was still in a daze from that blow to the head." (Y/n) admitted to Daniel specifically, his shocked face undeniably adorable. "If you don't believe me, you should know that I was born (Y/b/d) and I was living somewhat peacefully in the year 2021, even with a global pandemic going on since the very end of 2019." (Y/n) pointed to herself with her free hand. "Hence why I look so strange compared to everyone else here in Dark City." She smiled faintly, giggling to herself when the strangers began chattering among themselves in their native language. "Is all of that true?" Daniel whispered. "Yeah." (Y/n) nodded her head, with a grin cast his way.

After a few hours of the strangers asking (Y/n) questions about this and that, along with some tests they demanded to run. She was allowed to leave with Doctor Schreber, with her memories intact. (Simply because they couldn't alter her memories along with everything else.) With an almost exhausted sigh, both she and Daniel sat down on the couch in his apartment. "Is it true that, that Sutherland fellow is one of your favorite actors?" Daniel hesitated to ask after a moment. "Oh yeah, he's a good actor. It also helps that I find him incredibly handsome. Plus I have a weakness for blondes." (Y/n) admitted shamelessly, her words causing a blush to bloom on Daniels cheeks. "O-oh." He stuttered bashfully. "Did... Did you like the movie, this one?" He asked after he gathered his composure. "One of my favorites." (Y/n) smiled as she turned her body to look at Daniel. "You're my favorite character." She added in a whisper. "R-really?" He turned his head to look at her, his eyes as wide as saucers. "Yep... You're just so cute." (Y/n) cooed with a wolfish grin, her words making Daniel all flustered. "T-thank you." He stammered with a nervous chuckle. "You are very welcome Doctor." (Y/n) hummed casually, her tone making Daniel swallow thickly. "I think it is going to be quiet interesting to get to know you (Y/n)." Daniel mused aloud. "Likewise Doctor." (Y/n) hummed. "Please call me Daniel." He murmured quietly. "Alright then... Daniel." She cooed his name, making it sound oh so heavenly to the flustered man.

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Not my best work, but eh I still like it.

[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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[thatonecitykid]

I bet on Losing

Hey everyone! Sorry this is so sad.. was already crying so might as well make everyone else cry.This takes place after Endgame but during the same time as Far From Home. Listen to "I Bet on Losing Dogs" by Mitski for the full experience. Word Count: 2517. Have fun angels :)

Peter had finally left for his class trip, Pepper and Morgan had gone to spend their summer in Malibu, the remaining avengers were either in space or had completely disappeared from your life. Here you were after five years of your life had evaporated, and after all this time you had to play your fathers role for all the remaining avengers. You hadn't had the opportunity to cry when you first learned about what had happened. You couldn't cry at the funeral, not because you did not want to, but because you felt as if your father wouldn't want to see it. No one wanted to leave you alone, but after months of trying to dig some type of emotion out of you they had assumed that the death and slow disappearance of your makeshift avenger family had unaffected you.

You finally had the opportunity to exist alone. You had also finally mustered up the strength to visit secluded cabin your father had lived in for the last five years of his life. Although you had been given the keys immediately after the funeral, something about visiting the area made you feel uneasy. Not necessarily creeped out but just as if you did not belong, after all it was something your father invested in after you had already blipped away for several months.

You drove up to the cabin alone, slowly unlocking the door as if to not start or whoever may be inside. Before even entering the cabin, it looks clean, you assume that Pepper has had people cleaning constantly to maintain the cabin. It made sense, it was something she's cherished. You stepped into the cabin slowly and began to look around. The walls were lined with framed pictures of Morgan, family pictures of Pepper, your dad, and Morgan, and random posters and vintage albums. Although you were not the one to complain about it, having no evidence of your existence in the main areas of the home caused your heart dropped. As you wandered through the kitchen and the main family room, there is no evidence of Tony's life prior to the blip, just a somewhat normal family of three.

You decide to wander to the basement area, leaving the office and bedroom spaces upstairs for later. There was a large sitting area that you assumed they watched movies in. There was also a playroom painted pink featuring all sorts of gadgets very similar to those you grew up with that Tony had made for you. Towards the back hall of the basement, it was a glass door to your father's workshop area. You open the door gently and made your way in.

Despite looking like somewhat of a mess, you knew that behind the madness there was a method. You could tell that although your dad left in a hurry, things were placed in specific spots very similarly to how he did in every other one of his workshops. You walked towards his swiveling chair, noticing a metal box with a button on the worktable. You press the button and jump back as a life-size hologram of your father appeared in the room. He began

"Hi Pepper. My love, my muse, my boss. If you are listening to this then I did the one thing you have always told me not to do. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all the worry I've put you through, and I am sorry for taking myself away from you. I was a gift wasn't I. You've already seen another version of this message, but it never hurts to see your face again my darling."

The tears in your eyes begin to form, not because you had not expected to see your father. At this point you had already seen the message he had left after the funeral; It was only really meant for Pepper and Morgan, never addressing you.. At the funeral you refused to enter the cabin but as you watched the message while standing outside, Happy looked over at you with remorse but you kept a straight face again. Who were you to complain at your dead dad's funeral? Yet this message radiated the same energy.

As the second portion of the message began to play tears began to fall faster. It almost feels like an out of body, sure your dad had taken up different kids during your time growing up, but this message made you feel as If you had been completely replaced. Although it felt like a dumb theory there was no evidence as to your existence prior to Morgan.

"Hello my little scientist. How's my favorite person. Daddy is really sorry I can't be there right now. Be a trooper and hug you mom for me real quick. Now you must be surprised because I'm supposed to be the strongest dad in the world but let me tell you kid, sometimes crazy things happen when put on the ironman helmet. My little minion I love you 3000. My love for you is infinite. You have been and will forever be daddy's best friend."

Here you were crying over a child who had also lost her father, filled with jealousy over the fact that you father had chosen her and failed to consider your return but had prepared for Peter's return, still had projects waiting for Harley, and had in fact set up a stable plan for Morgan's future. At this point you were sobbing, what had all felt like a bad nightmare and jumping to conclusions had started to feel way too real. This emotion was even stronger than when you watched footage from your father suit as the snap happened, this emotion felt like a stab in the back.

Maybe he never loved me.

You tried to collect yourself but were still sobbing when the holographic figure of you father disappeared. You might as well finish the house tour before leaving. The upstairs portion of the house featured Tony and Pepper's room, Morgan's room and two other doors. The main bedroom was tidy and organized, with a closet full of clothes that both Pepper and your dad had left. You walked into Morgan's room and did a quick look around, not wanting to invade child space. Returning to the hallway you opened the door to your father's office. Inside there was a rather simple with a desk, a leather chair, and two matching chairs. The plants in the room were growing well, meaning someone still came to water them. There were a few pictures on the wall, including Peter's Stark internship picture, and a random picture you took of the original Avengers after their first New York battle. On the desk there was another metal box similar to that in the workpace. You argued whether or not you wanted to potentially break your heart more before giving in, siting in the leather seat and pressing the button.

A slim beam of light scanned over your face, confirming your identity, and the box began to play. To say you were shocked is an understatement, as your father's hologram appeared across the desk sitting in one of the matching chairs.

"Hello Munchkin. If you've found this box, then I just going to have to accept that I've failed you. You've been gone for five years and regret every moment leading up to when you snapped away. You really did want to come to space with me, and honestly you would have been helpful, but I don't think I could see you Blip away and have the will to continue. That being said because I am already admitting I was wrong, I should not have had your suit take you to the bunker room, where you eventually snapped away alone. I regret that decision y constantly. On another note, I'm sorry I didn't hug you as soon as you got back, I clearly I cannot really hug anyone."

You had finally given up on holding in their tears. You didn't have to be strong in front of your dad. He had always held you when you cried and this time he couldn't. You tried to wrap your arms around yourself, but nothing felt the same.

"I hope you are crying, because if I'm crying alone during this part, I'll be embarrassed, his image continued as it stood up and leaned against the back of the chair. Munch I know you've probably walked around this house and have found no evidence of yourself. You've probably beat yourself up about how much I love Morgan, but think about it. The amount of time I've spent these last 5 years essentially idolizing you would not have been good for her to experience. "

You rose quickly from the chair. Not even one damn picture?

"Now I know you're wondering not even a single picture. Pick up the projector box and follow me ."

You did as the digital version of your father told you and followed it back into the hallway.

"Put the box down and put your hand on the center of the door. "

This activated a scanner which opened up the door to the room. As you walked in you recognized that this was an exact replica of your room back in the Malibu house. You were still a kid when the original house was blown to pieces but somehow everything was exactly as you remembered it. As you walked further into the room you noticed the large screens, placed like picture frames, which played videos and pictures of you and your dad throughout the years.

Your father walked towards the center of the room, bounded by how far the projector was.

"You see kid, me and you have somewhat the same grieving styles. I have a feeling you didn't cry at the funeral. I have a feeling you haven't cried, at least in a way that someone else could have noticed. You take after me in that sense."

The hologram started to sniffle, your dad had actually started crying when recording this. You really wanted to hug him, the reality of his death hurt even more. You had finally allowed yourself to start grieving.

"Look, I know you used to listen to the song about betting on losing dogs when you wanted to cry, but that does not apply to you at all. You may have gotten a more complicated stick of life, but I can tell ya, this does not need to be your villain origin story. From the first day I took you home I could tell you were a fighter, but I need you to feel as if its ok to cry. I've spent hours on this floor in shambles wishing you were here. The small things that Morgan does that remind me of you throw me into sadness pools constantly. You are my motivating force. I really hope you allow yourself to cry about it so that you can continue in life. I don't think I can stand in this room for any longer before I cannot speak at all, so please take the projector back to my office. "

As you lifted the projector you thought about how much this must have hurt your father to record. Maybe he didn't want anyone to encounter this box except for you. As you placed the box on the desk, you sat back into the leather chair as your father's holograph sat across from you.

"On a different note, you are probably wondering why I seemed to set up a game plan for everyone but you. With Morgan I just made sure she had a comfortable, who am I kidding, lavish funding behind her. I can't dictate what a five-year-old should do. For Harley you know that I've always looked out for him, a position in Stark industries honestly should not have surprised you. Peter is what I feel most conflicted about. I'm not setting him up to become the next Ironman, I'm setting him up to become the greatest version of Spiderman he can be. Well, I know the media is probably going to take it and run having known that Spiderman and Ironman we're friends at some point, but I'm really giving you the biggest responsibility. I don't expect you to live in my shadow, I want you to outgrow it. I think you might be surprised to see everything that I left you, besides Stark industries itself. That's a conversation for another day."

"I know I've been speaking for quite a while, but my baby, my baby yes I called you that. I know how much this has all affected you, and I'm sorry, I am completely sorry and do take full fault for it all. But now because we cannot change the past, let's focus on the present. I want you to know that I loved you with my entire being. I'm not sure how to emphasize this enough but I do want you to know you were cared for, you were loved, and you were thought about for every minute. If you don't get to see this message, and I'm already gone, that means this message will never have to play for anyone. Either I found you and I've given you a new message, or I'm rolling in my grave. Either way my darling I cannot emphasize how much I love you. I do hope for the best for. Before I have to go, I want to see you smile. Sure, I can't physically see it right now, but I can imagine it."

As the recording choked out that last sentence, you flashed a weak smile. A face sticky with all the tears that you have been crying.

Now I know you need to get back home, but when you get back to the city, stop by the shawarma place and get something to eat. you gotta eat Darling. Also don't act like you don't like Peter, you two idiots keep pushing each other away in cannot take it. Now I'm gonna say goodbye mini me. Watch over Pepper and Morgan for me, okay? I love you."

You took one final sweep of the house before heading back to your car. You had cried so much that your eyes physical hurt. You almost felt a sense of comfort having finally released some of the pent-up emotion. As you drove towards the city and towards the Shawarma place you almost felt kind of sad, knowing that all of your friends were in a foreign country. Yet you still felt as if your best friend, your Dad was watching over you. And in all reality that felt as if it was the only thing that mattered.

[dsmadmin]

#GhostFromThePast

Jo was sitting at her desk in black waters. Looking at the time of day it was. She was sat with her laptop on looking to see what has been happening in the world. Deep down she was surfing for anything Supernatural. When she stopped on a possible ghost house reading through the news of four teenagers breaking into in an asylum full of ghosts after staying the night on some kind of a dare. When two only two teenagers came out of the house alive in Eureka Springs, Arkansas. She ponders over the article. That sound like her kind of thing but she wanted to check out a few times first by going to the library. When she powered down her laptop. She wasn't to take any silly risks without knowing all the facts. For her, it's been quiet in the last few days. With her life was starting to fall back into place. She was settling into her new life here in Austin but she missed her mom very much. She needed to put her big girlie pants on and stop to reply on her mom and stand on her own two feet. Which she was doing for the last few weeks. With her buying her place as she was stable in her new place here in Austin and working in black waters. With her friends and she could call some of the family. When she looked over at the photograph on her desk with Her mom Eileen, Bobby, Colt, Cas and Sam. The last photo of them will get her when they hunted together. When she thought she would check the roster of what hunters were on call. To see if they were interested in going on a hunt. Which she did when a certain name flashed up to her. Sam Winchester. She had missed Sam Winchester. Colt’s brother Sam when he took his own life. She missed the conversation between Sam and her. She hoped he was at peace wherever he is upstairs in heaven. A small smile curve into her lips as she looked at him a little more. She deeply missed him as he was like a big brother to her. The brother she never had. When she looked into his file and sadness fell on her heart. Picking up the photography in her hand with her thumb rubbing over Sam's face. I miss you, Sam. I wish you were still here. Jo put the photography back proud on her desk. When she stood up to go to the library to check on everything about ghosts. This was another thing Sam was amazing at. When he saw a large man in the distance of the stalls of the library. Picking up some books. When she stopped herself in her tracks just looking at him. She had frozen in the spot just keeping her eyes on Him.

Sam -Standing in the center of an aisle wearing a grey and white checkered flannel with faded blue jeans, his hair just a little to long and his boots scuffed up from rough use. Several books in his hands and one opened he was just doing a few pages of speed reading to see if it was relevant to what he needed and was looking for when he got a feeling he was being watched. Head up he looked around and his eyes fell on a small blonde at the end of the aisle. When he'd agreed to work with Blackwater he'd made it clear he wanted transparency and Colt had given him access to every employee on Blackwaters payroll. Having had some encounters with the British Men of Letters Sam had been leery joining up but as he got to know Colt the more trusting he'd gotten. Even though the guy was different than his brother he still had those core things that made them /Dean/. So he knew who she was by remembering her face. He smiled and raised a hand to wave hello.-

Jo - Her eyes were just drawn to him was Sam back. When she tried to speak with nothing was coming out of her mouth at the first. When she saw his hand waving her over to him, she started to move closer to the giant of the Man in his blue jeans and flannel shirt. A million questions were playing in her head she wanted to talk to /Her/ Sam, but how could he be back with his body getting a hunters funeral and now he was just standing only a few yards away. When she approached him. Trying to make some saliva in her mouth as her mouth was dry. Her mouth felt like sandpaper as she struggles to speak before and letting out a deep breath. “Sam?”

Sam - Yeah. I'm sorry, this is probably weird. We've never met but I've read some of your file... -Holds out his hand and gives her a genuine smile.- Sam Winchester, but you probably knew that of course. It's good to finally meet you.

Jo - Jo couldn't get her head around that Sam Winchester was standing in front other. This was a huge deal for her. With the introduction of him, she smiled with millions of questions playing in her head. Her voice went very high when she spoke. “ Hello, Sam how are you okay. What's going as she set out a few quick questions in no time? Not giving him the chance to answer. Yes, I know you are Sam Winchester, not the one I know of but A new Sam Winchester. Can I ask something? Her mouth just fires out another question without even thinking. Are you just like my Sam? It's great to meet you, Sam. How long have you been here? You have been reading my file. I guess you like to do your homework on all hunters here at black waters? Jo tries to stop with the quick-fire questions to the man standing in front of her as she tried to breathe without answering another question him. *she misread the hand gesture and just hugged him, as she would Do with the other Sam*

Sam - -Little surprised but he went with it and hugged her back.- Well Dean and I have always been here. I��m assuming you’re asking if we came through a rift. The answer is no. I’m not sure how your “Sam” was so I can’t answer that. But look hey it’s great to meet you though.

Jo - -She paused herself in the hug listening to him talking. When she moved from the hug let him go. Taking a step back from to look up to him- You didn't? But how are you here Sam, sorry about all the questions?

Sam - This is my home dimension Jo, from what I've discussed with other things here are different from other places but we Winchesters are still hunters here.

Jo -*She stopped and bite her lip in front of him. Feeling like an idiot so jumping to the conclusion that's the man standing in front of her was from another world. * My apologies, Sam, I just thought you were from somewhere else as you just remind me of my Sam from here. I didn't realize there could be two of you from the same dimension. Can I buy you a coffee for apologies? And maybe we start over and talk?

Sam - -He didn't realize there were two of him here but he didn't say anything about it.- There's nothing to apologize for and if you want to talk sure I don't mind.

Jo - *She breathes easy from making an idiot of herself. Okay, he's a different Sam from this world not one of these sites that keep opening up. Which itself needs to be investigated. May Sam would be interested in looking into it. *

Great, I hear that's a great smoothie and sushi restaurant just outside and around the next block if you are interested? I know I could do with some help with a case if you are interested.

Sam - That sounds good. -Stuffing his hands into his jacket he walked alongside her.- Yeah sure, what's the case about?

Jo - Jo began to walk beside him, as they made their way out of the library. She had forgotten how to tall Sam was as she felt like a midget beside him. Looking up to him. Carrying the file in her bag she was allocated back at black waters. She didn't have a permanent hunter partner as she like the freedom of working with many hunters to expanding her acknowledges of all the hunters of black water. She knew in great details of Sam Winchester with his knowledge of the lora of most everything supernatural as the same age knew before this was a book worm and she wonders if this one would be the same.

*Continue to walk around to the little smoothie bar opening the door for Sam to step in* let's take a seat and we can talk. *Walking over to a booth* is this okay Sam? *Offering him a smile as she slips her small body into the booth seat*

Sam on my Last hunt I came across this special book that I've heard everyone is looking for when I mean Everyone I mean the supernatural world especially the witches and special crazy one as in there's this group of species that has been taking the limbs from us the humans but I can't seem to figure out what they are. A few nights ago I was investigating a young woman in a south haven in Michigan, in the State University where she was seen going into a medical building to see a scientist on the CCTV. Around forty-five minutes later a janitor found her in the medical room with her eyes missing and there was a shadow caught in CCTV escaping from jumping out of the ninth story window and landed on its feet. I just don't understand what could stand on its feet from that high. I came back to black waters looking for answers as the trail has gone quiet.

Sam followed Jo and took a seat listening to her. His mind racing for several reasons. He glanced around thinking a public place might not be the best spot if she truly had something everyone wanted but he didn't want to offend her so he let her finish and thought about what to ask first. He'd heard of several books that everyone would like to get their hands on but he wasn't sure which she meant. Lowering his voice.- Jo, this book. It's an actual book? Like a grimoire or is it like a stone tablet? This might not be the best place... to discuss this. -Eyes move from people around them back to her. Could be demons sitting right next to them and they'd never know without outing themselves as hunters in broad daylight.- We'd have to narrow it down there are many things that could do something like that. *Jo listened to Sam and knew she had to be careful to watch what she would say next with all the eyes and ears around. She nodded and smiled at his questions, this Sam doesn't know her well enough to speak in Hunter code to answer him to what book she had. When the time was right and the location, with no ears around she was willing to discuss this further with him. The last thing she wanted was to put Sam or herself in danger of being out on the opening.*, let's have this drink I promised you and we can go somewhere else to show you my workout moves? I know you will want to see them since this was your kind of thing Sam. If you are in?

Sam - Sure, always up for learning something new.

Jo - Good, I can always do with a great hunter on my side. How about me we order and have none hunter conversation right here. To get to know each other since there are unknown ears around. What are you drinking Sam?

Sam - Coffee is fine.

Jo - *Waves to the waitress over* No problem a straight black one? Do you want anything to eat? *Looking at the menu*