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behindheremeraldeyes · 3 years

Text

sasusaku month 2021

day 3 - nighttime

title: lost inside the habit

summary: It’s the middle of the night and Sakura can’t sleep. Her thoughts are clouded by an ugly feeling she had never felt before and Sasuke is the only one who can do something about it. It’s his fault that she can’t sleep, after all.

Rated K [ffnet] [Ao3] .

There was a strange heat polling inside her stomach that made her entire body burn. Her heart-beat was beginning to sound too loud in her ears, and no matter how many times she had already tried to close her eyes, sleep refused to come. She had been tossing and turning for at least 3 hours now, stubbornly battling against the urge to get up and do something in order to save what was left of her night.

It will pass, she kept telling herself, knowing very well that was a lie. It was not going to pass. Not anytime soon, at least. She sighed for the seventh time— but who was counting, right?— and tried to appeal to her logical side to free herself from that inner turmoil.

The shinobi world was at peace, her patients were well and her loved ones were safe and sound, probably enjoying the warmth of their beds at that exact moment. Naruto’s dream was getting closer with every passing day, her sensei was doing a great job as the Hokage and Gaara had agreed to expand her recent project to the Wind country.

Nothing was wrong, except—well— everything was.

The air inside her lungs felt heavier than all the boulders she has crushed with her bare hands during the war, and as soon as her lips started to tremble, Sakura knew she was losing it.

The eight sight came. Fuck, she muttered.

She used her forearm to cover her eyes as she bit the insides of her cheeks. It was way too late for her to be awake, let alone to be so filled with such unexplainable rage— or maybe not so unexplainable as she would like to admit.

It was all because of those stupid words. Words that could mean nothing, but since they came from his lips, could also mean everything. How could he say those things about a stranger? How could he ruin her day like that after talking about someone else with such easy words?

How could he compliment a girl he had just met when all she ever had were the recurrent “you're annoying”s? That jerk.

Though Sakura has always considered herself to be above such things, experiencing those feelings for the first time was a lot harder than she had originally expected. Jealousy hurt. It stung her heart like multiple needles, and the simple memory of that fleeting moment was enough to make her feel another projectile penetrating deeper into her core. It made her disgusted to even think of him, and more than that, it made her feel ugly inside.

She should be better than this. She’s a highly ranked medical ninja and shouldn’t let those feelings corrupt her like that. If anything, she should be happy for him, right? Happy because, after so long, he was finally being able to interact with different people and move on with his life.

Sasuke deserves to be happy. However and with whomever he chooses to. And if she really was his friend, she should be happy for him.

If she loved him— truly loved him, then she should be happy for him.

But she was not. She just couldn’t. Instead of happy, Sakura was mad, resentful and begrudging.

She was ashamed of herself.

Ashamed for not wanting to share a free and independent person with a world of his own choosing simply because she somehow felt entitled to a position that has never been hers to begin with. In all of those years he was away from the village and she was trying to get him back, it never crossed her mind that, perhaps, just that didn’t make her special at all. She was his teammate and friend, sure, and even the only girl he has ever spoken to for over 10 minutes straight, but there was never any guarantee that she would ever become more than that.

Just because she was the only one by his side, it didn’t mean she would be the one if he ever opened himself to those kind of experiences.

Sakura had no right over his love life. She had no advantage or extra points for being who she is.

His heart is not a prize to be conquered at the end of a game. There’s no winner, but she was certainly the loser.

Her cheeks turned red and angry tears were threatening to spill from her eyes at that moment. She was feeling like a spoiled little girl, crying in order to solve her problems. She had to get herself together. He has always done whatever he wanted and there was no reason it would be any different when it came to the matter of his heart.

He leaves whenever he wants to and returns whenever he pleases.

And as always, she simply accepts it all. It’s their own routine— an old habit which she refuses to abandon. Sakura has settled into that kind of life of waiting for him to make the next decision, and that was fine until she realized that, maybe, the one decision she’s been waiting for him to make might not involve her.

In fact, it might even take her away from his life.

The stubborn tears finally fell down the side of her face, and her eyes widened. It became harder to breathe at the idea of losing him forever and it was as if her chest was being crushed. Her fingers were now clutching the covers until her knuckles turned white, and the turmoil was now stuck in her throat, making her sick.

And if she didn't do something— anything about it, she was going to throw up.

Without thinking twice, she threw the covers away and stood up from her bed. She didn’t know exactly what she was doing, but before she could convince herself otherwise, the pinkette was already jumping through her window. With her bare feet, she was running through rooftops, the winter night gracing her exposed skin. Her heart was beating faster now, adrenaline rushing through her system, and as she jumped around, her eyes could already see her destination from afar.

Her cheeks were burning due to the icy breeze, but she didn’t care. Sakura had to get to him. She had to listen to a different voice from the one hunting her thoughts.

Once she got to the Uchiha compound, she ran towards his house, only stopping at the threshold. She was not thinking straight anymore for, in the dead of the night, she started banging on his door, calling his name, and had he had any neighbors, they would all be cursing her at that moment.

“Sasuke-kun!” She screamed, her heavy fist almost making a hole in his door. Her voice was rushed, and she could see the white haze escaping from her lips. “I need to talk to you! Sasuke-kun!”

Her heart was beating as fast as she was knocking, and for a moment, she decided to stop banging to see if her ears would capture something coming from inside the house. Nothing. The only sound she could hear came from the night wind and that was not what she needed.

Her emerald eyes glared at the door, a pout taking over her lips. It was impossible for a skilled shinobi like him not to hear all that noise. She was growing anxious and even considered the idea of invading his house through the window, however; she knew better than to believe that catching him by surprise like that would be a good idea. It was Uchiha Sasuke’s home, after all. She could bet anything that he had traps all over the place. Breaking in was definitely out of question.

She shook her head and decided that it was too late to start changing her original plans— not that she has any plan at all. The pinkette raised her fist, then, ready to start knocking all over again. When she was about to move her hand, though, the door suddenly swung open, only to reveal the alarmed figure of the man she had been looking for.

“Sasuke-k—”

“What!? What is it?! Are you okay!?”

He sounded breathless, his mismatched eyes scanning her from head to toe, as if he was trying to find any injury or any trace of blood. His dark locks were a mess, and his lips were parted in awe. Now that she was thinking about it, showing up like that was probably not the best of the ideas if she didn’t want him to get all worked up. There was really no need for all that, but there was no way he would know it. Especially when she was the one who started all that noise to disturb his sleep.

She would have to do something about that, too.

“Calm down, Sasuke-kun, I’m fine.” She sighed, her head now starting to throb. “No one is hurt or anything.”

“Huh?” His brows arched in confusion, his lips still slighted trembling until they formed a frown. “Then what’s wrong, Sakura?”

Everything. “Nothing. I—“

“Nothing!? Tch, bullshit. If you’re here in the middle of the night, almost breaking my door, then something must be off. Is it something with Naruto?”

“No, he’s fine.”

“Kakashi, then?”

“No, he’s okay, too. I—“

“Are you sure you are okay?”

“I’ve said I’m fine already, didn’t I?!”

With every question, she could feel her anxiety building up inside of her. Of all the things that could have happened that night, being practically interrogated by him was not something she had imagined at all. And whether she liked to admit it or not, that was probably better than what she had originally planned— which was, again, nothing at all.

“Sakura, then, why—“

“Can you just shut up for a minute and let me talk!?”

Her heart was beating too fast inside her chest now, and she realized she had no control of the situation anymore. Sakura was just there, growing mad for no reason at all, and he was also growing slightly irritated because it was the middle of the night and she had just woken him up so she could literally stand there making no sense.

God, what a night.

Silence settled between them for a couple of seconds and her green eyes started to inspect him out of habit. His breathing pattern was slower now, his eyes still trying to read her, and Sakura was starting to feel overwhelmed by that. She had to say something. Anything or else he was going to think she was insane— and maybe she was because she didn’t really know what the fuck she was doing there anymore.

A new sigh escaped her lips, and she closed her eyes for a second, trying to recollect what was left of her. She looked at him, then, and took a deep breath, the cold air reaching her lungs. “Look, no one is hurt. The village is safe, and for all I know, all of our friends are sleeping safely right now.”

“Then why—“

“Why am I standing at your door at such stupid hours and making a fuss for nothing?” She asks, rhetorically. “Honestly, I don’t even know, but here I am.”

He stopped for a moment, his face now holding a very confused expression. His fingers reached for the bridge of his nose and he closed his eyes for a moment, the adrenaline from earlier finally wearing off. He was annoyed, she could tell. Still, at least the interrogatory was over.

“Look, Sakura… I’m going to ask you something and I promise your answer won’t change the way I see you as the respectable shinobi you are.” He stopped for a second, tension now building up inside of her. “Are you drunk?”

Her brows knitted in confusion, and his question took her completely by surprise. She had no idea of what kind of expression was spread across her face right now, but she could bet it was a strange one. He couldn’t really be serious.

“What?” she asked, not really believing he was asking her such a thing.

“It’s a completely normal question. Did you go out for drinks with the Godaime?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Are you sure?”

"I’m not drunk, Sasuke-kun!” She yelled at him, her red cheeks now puffed in anger. She clenched her fists, but loosed them after a second. It was late and cold, and damn, she should’ve thought properly before crossing the village wearing only one of her father’s large t-shirts and some fluffy trousers. That was not working at all. “Can I come in?”

When she asked him that, it was like something clicked inside of him and he realized that they were, indeed, in the middle of a winter night. Whatever was happening, they could do it inside his house, where it was clearly more comfortable. “Aah, of course. Come in.”

“Thanks.”

They entered his house, then, and for she was already used to it, the pinkette ended up leading him towards his living room. She sat on his couch, and with no ceremony, he sat next to her, their knees practically brushing. He was close enough so she could feel some heat radiating from him, and somehow that offered her some kind of comfort.

Of course it did. He is Sasuke-kun, the boy who has been holding her heart for at least a decade now. The same boy who can make her smile and cry with a single smile— or the lack of one— and the one who has dared to compliment a girl in front of her. Ugh, not that again.

“Can I get you some tea?”

“N-No, I’m fine, thank you.” She bit her lower lip, the ugly jealousy starting to bite her insides again. “Sasuke-kun, I need to ask you something.”

“Hn. I’m listening.” And indeed he was. He has always been a good listener, and perhaps that’s why it has always been so easy for her to talk to him. Just being with him has always been enough for her, but now— now that it was late and she knew there was a chance that he could, eventually, be taken away from her— it just wasn’t. Not anymore.

She had to get it out of her chest. No matter the risks, she had to be honest, and whatever he decided to do with that honesty, she would have to accept it.

“The thing is… I don’t want to lose you, Sasuke-kun.” She bit her lip, her cheeks growing warmer. “Not again.”

His eyes widened, and she noticed the way his expression slowly melted into a softer one. His lips were pressed in a thin line, and he was looking at her with all the tenderness in the world, as if he immediately understood her. “I'm not running away from the village again, Sakura. I won’t—“

“Not like that.” She spoke, and she could feel her cheeks growing redder in embarrassment. “I’m not worried about you leaving the village again, Sasuke-kun. I’m just scared that, when you decide to stay… It won’t be with me.”

Though she had decided to be straightforward about the whole thing, Sakura didn’t think she could use any other words to describe her feelings at that moment. That was the best she could muster at that moment, and that would have to do.

Her eyes were looking straight at him, carefully searching for something— anything that told her he had understood the real meaning behind her words. She could feel that her heart was about to burst out at any moment now. Her hands were shaking on her lap, and with every second of torturing silence, she could feel her senses screaming at her to run away and never look back.

Perhaps, if she ran home at that moment, he could go back to bed and pretend it was all a strange dream. Perhaps she could try to convince him she was, in fact, wasted after a night out with her master. Perhaps—

A sudden warmth enveloped her small hands, and when she looked down at them, she saw his big, calloused palm over them. His skin was warm and his thumb carefully started to caress the back of her hand in circular movements. Her eyes widened at that, and when she lifted her head to look at him, his eyes were already on hers.

They were so deep at that moment— so delicate and caring that she just couldn’t bring herself to look away from them. His eyes have always been her favorite things about him, and even after everything, she still found them the most gorgeous things in the entire world.

“You’ve always had the strangest concerns, Sakura…” He spoke softly, as his lips slightly curled upwards. “How could it not be with you?”

Her eyes were tearing up now, her lips twisting into a pout. A wave of relief was spreading across her body, and she knew she was really close to start ugly-crying in front of him. “It couldn’t?”

“Of course not.” He squeezed her hands. “As long as you don’t change your mind, then—“

She cut his words before he could finish his sentence as she pressed her cold lips against his warm ones. It was an impulse she couldn’t control, and she was glad for that. After years of holding back and imagining how actually kissing him would feel like, there she was, making the first move and making sure he knew there was no changing her mind.

His lips, as she realized, were soft as she had always pictured them to be, and she couldn’t help the sparks that took over her at such simple contact. She had dreamed about that for most of her life, and once she felt his hand cupping her cheek as he started to kiss her back, Sakura realized that it was all worth it in the end.

She was smiling against his lips, and though chaste, that was probably the most intimate moment they’ve ever shared. Once they parted, she noticed that his hand remained on her cheek, and she couldn’t help but lean against it. Her eyes were holding a smile of their own, and even if her life depended on it, she didn’t think she could hide the happiness radiating from inside of her core.

Not from him. Not at that moment.

“I won’t ever change my mind.” She said, eagerly.

“Hn, that’s good to hear.” He said, caressing her cheek one more time before letting his hand slide from her face.

“And you better not change yours either, Sasuke-kun!”

“Where did you even get this stupid idea from, anyway?”

“Eh?” Her eyes widened, a new blush taking over her cheeks. How on earth was she going to explain to him that she woke him up and kissed him in the middle of the night just because he complimented a random girl the other day when the whole team 7 was together having lunch? He would never stop mocking her if she told him that. “No particular reason…”

“Tch.” He scoffed. “Honestly, you’re spending too much time with that Dobe.”

“And whose fault is that?” She crossed her arms across her chest, a mocking tone lacing her words.

“Hn, you might have a point.” He nodded, accepting her words, but choosing not to comment on them. “Are you feeling better now?”

“A lot. I was going insane back home, and I just had to do something about it. Sorry for waking you up in the middle of the night.”

“It's fine. Whenever you need."

“Hey, don’t get used to me just coming in and kissing you!” She blushed madly, finally remembering her boldest move.

“Your words, not mine.”

“Shannarou.” She sighed, her heart a lot lighter now. Anxiety was no longer torturing her from the inside, and the green monster of jealousy was now silenced in the depths of her mind.

In the end, Sakura was glad for doing what she did. She was proud for finally taking a stand and not just keep waiting for a magical moment that might never come.

She took the first step towards a new future filled with possibilities, and though she didn’t really know what was to come next, at least, she knew for sure that, in the end, they would be together. And for the moment, that was enough.

fin.

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a/n: so, why not write a jealous Sakura every now and then, right? I had a lot of fun writing this one and I can really imagine that pink-haired dork being all worked up over something like that XD Also, this was inspired by that song “Stay with me”, which is originally a Japanese song, but I can’t stop listening to Caitlin Myers’ version of it! Anyways, enough of me. Hope you’ve enjoyed it, and please, leave me a comment with your thoughts!

#sasusaku #sasusaku month 2021 #sasusaku fanfiction #sasusaku fanfic #ss month 21 #myssfics

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whencallstheheart · 3 years

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I’m majorly disappointed, angry, and absoutletly confused beyond imagination with that S8 Finale - but let me rant to get over my enduring nausea. Beyond the storyline, I find the BTS drama of it all so intriguingly telling. And sadly for us Nathan Fans the drama may be the only WCTH thing left for us to even connect to without watching this increasingly sadistic show.

Everyone knows it was the wrong choice and Lucas fans are coping hard with their win (not sure why they need to) by behaving like the most pompous, egotistical, pretentious, sore winners that I’ve ever witnessed. I see many comments from them that suggest: “Nathan wouldn’t take no for an answer”, “Elizabeth never gave him signs of romance”, “it was always very obvious it was Lucas” or my FAVORITE one... and just wait to hear this BS... “If you don’t keep tuning into WCTH, Nathan Fans, you never liked the show anyway”... 😒 The disrespect that Nathan fans have received is unfathomable, especially when we are told we are “throwing tantrums bc Lucas won” or “we wrongfully believed the world revolves around us”. But look, the reason Lucas fans are acting terribly is because they didn’t expect to ‘win’. They know deep down the chances after S7 of Elizabeth being with Lucas were lower than they could have ever gotten (the hug and all). The best part is scrolling back through the WCTH tag on tumblr.... I have read various posts from Lucas fans that fully expected to “never watch again if Nathan was picked”... It’s so annoying because both sides were going to be upset either way, but in Team Nathan’s circumstance: we were continuously beat down this season by the writers. It became bigger than who was going to win. It’s the disrespect of dragging us along for S8 to get ratings and to secure a S9 renewal - because let’s be real they weren’t going to pair her with Lucas in episode two and expect people to keep the good ratings going. Nathan fans in every poll I’ve witnessed (fb polls or even the one Erin did for Direct TV the other day) averages 70% Nathan and 30% Lucas EVERYTIME with no fail. Here’s the next thing: the Post-Finale interview with Erin, Chris, and Kevin was even worse. The first thing they do is basically pop open the champagne and throw the kiss in everyone’s face (btw ew, it’s like an adult film...) and celebrate that she picked Lucas. Of course, Erin attempts to play it down that she “had mixed feelings about the ending” but ya know all with a big Cheshire Cat grin on her face. I have a feeling she just picked the guy she’d best like to make out with for S9... 🙄 Lord knows that’s all Jack and Elizabeth ever did was fight and make out. Anyway, only Kevin addressed any remorse for Nathan fans and even then I don’t for the life of me understand why he accepts being the second choice when he’s lead material. Honestly, I say, Kevin should leave the show, bc he deserves more than this phony unwanted story its been hijacked into. Sadly, from the interview I get the sinking feeling that the next angle they have been just waiting to take is that “Nathan put himself in this situation by not backing down (though imo he did way too little of)”. Why would they do such a thing, you ask? To hype Lucas fans up (with delusion) and to possibly attract a newer audience (post-Nathan fans departing the show) bc they wouldn’t know the BTS details on how they settled on Lucas and the baggage that came with. Who knows if that will happen, but it wouldn’t surprise me they would go that below the belt after the writers made Elizabeth suggest that ‘Nathan would just never obtain Jack level qualities she would look for in a man’... All in all, these people used Nathan fans and honestly I feel my kindness abused with all the support I’ve given the show and taken advantage of all for some cheap a$$ ratings. Next step forward: Hope #TeamNathan sticks to their word about not watching the show, bc why reward sadistic nonsense???? Heck, forget the sadistic nonsense, it’s just terrible writing. Support FanFiction writers when it comes to Nathan and Elizabeth, not WCTH. THOUGH if I were the glass-half-full kind of gal I would say... ya know what, maybe they have tricked us into thinking the love triangle is over? Maybe next season an old lady friend of Lucas’ strolls into town to share his deepest secrets or a new lady catches Nathan’s eye and makes Elizabeth insanely jealous. Heck, a girl could dream, bc Faith?!? SNOOZE 😭

Oh there’s always the “you’re not a true Heartie” bullshit after something happens that people are even mildly upset about. There’s definitely the notion that Hearties should NEVER have anything negative to say about the show and if they do then they were never a true fan. It’s ridiculous.

Nathan has been the punching bag this whole time. He got so much hate for being involved in Jack’s death. Fans blamed him for killing Jack as if he’d shot him himself or something. They hated on Allie constantly because she was merely acting her age. It was awful and pathetic. Nathan fans had to endure all of that and for what? The character got fucked over in the end. He’ll go on to better things, surely, but that’s not the point. None of it needed to happen if he wasn’t going to end up with Elizabeth. Bottom line.

They should just give Nathan and Allie a spinoff.

#tarahhnicolee

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peakascum · 4 years

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Reunion

First of all, thank you so much for the feedback on my first fic! Second of all, I am still trying to make the masterlist but Ia m new to this so it will take time. In the meantime, I will put a “peakascum” tag on every imagine so you will be able to find every writing under that tag on my profile. Anyway, hope you enjoy this one!

Polly had smoked half a pack of cigarettes since the beginning of the family meeting. She had come in and sat at the most far out corner and stared aimlessly at the floor. Skin pale as ever, but her eyes held a whirlpool of emotions. She had a look of confusion, perhaps terror. A look the boys had only seen twice in their lives. The first time being when she bid them farewell at the train station before the war, the second time being when she learned the fate of her children.

Tommy concluded the meeting, dismissing everyone to go about with their work and stared at her intently. “So are you going to tell me,” he paused to light his cigarette, “or am I gonna have to wait until you reach your breaking point?” Polly looked up at him and stood up, nervously fiddling with her hands. “It’s nothing Tom. Just stress.” She said, barely meeting his eyes. “Polly,” he started, clearing his throat, “we both know how you get when you bottle everything up. Now, I’m already stressed enough dividing everybody's jobs and calculating our next move. If this is about our rivals, you have nothing to worry about, but if-“ she gave him a pointed glance and said, “Oh come off it, Tom. It’s not about that. It’s- it’s silly.” The room stilled for a second. Polly kept staring at the window, building up courage, adjusting the words in her mind as to not sound completely delusional.

“I was at the market buying the essentials. Had to go all the way across town for that new tea that Ada likes- and I swear to God Thomas I am not on pills anymore- but I could've sworn I saw Martha.” She looked up at him, the first time since the beginning of the meeting. They both chuckled at how bizarre the idea sounded. “Martha? Our John’s dead wife Martha?” He had to say it out loud. The tone in his voice acknowledging how ridiculous it sounded. “I told you it was silly.”

But it wasn’t. To them, it did sound as if Polly was back on the self medication journey she went on since almost hanging. That was years ago. Since then, John had died, Michael had come back from America, they had moved up to high society, and had struck up new rivals on various spots in England. Life had changed. Clouds no longer lingered on the streets of Birmingham, everything started to matter a little bit more. They all missed John. Polly would pray for his soul every morning and every night. She would pray for his kids, the ones Esme took, pray they were safer and that somehow she would be able to see them again.

The next family meeting had taken place in the small room at The Garrison. It was a quick one, more so to catch up on the day’s events. Arthur had come in around, whisky glass in hand, stumbling over his words, “So Poll you seeing ghosts now, eh?” He screamed, making the whole room chuckle and look at her expectantly. “That’s enough Arthur. Just an honest mistake.” She said, a grin painting her face, yet it did not reach her eyes. She knew it was silly, but it wouldn't be the first time she had seen the departed.

Finn stood near the door, facing Arthur’s back, laughing and mocking Polly with the rest of them. “I don’t really remember Martha well, but I don’t think you're delusional aunt Poll.” He said in a confident voice. The room kept ignoring his words, busy with roaring laughter and the sound of their aunt’s voice scolding them all. Finn kept his posture and continued, “Besides, thought I heard John’s laugh the other day,” he mumbled. The room quieted for a moment. Finn looked up realizing they heard him and continued, “but it wasn’t, eh? Obviously. I-I’m not Polly, don’t have any of that gypsy crap with me.”

Polly, furiously but steadily, stood up, “First of all,” she said making her way over to Finn, “it is not gypsy crap or gypsy bullshit, do not disrespect your roots.” She said as she smacked him in the head. “Now look at me and tell me what you on about boy.” She grabbed his young face in her hands. “It’s nothing aunt Poll. Just like Martha. It’s nothing. Besides, it was a woman laughing Poll,” he stammered and ripped his face from her grip. Polly stared at him, then at the whole table full of very confused Shelbys.

“I knew it. I can feel it,” she started, earning a deep glare from Tommy.

“Do not mock me. I can feel when the air shifts. I know what I saw.”

“Okay, that’s enough Poll,” said Arthur, no longer laughing.

The Shelbys had not made another sound, looking at each other, wondering who would be the first to speak up. Their aunt’s statement had steadied them into a haunting lullaby, reminding them of the many gypsy traditions that they secretly carried with them. The good omens, the way the wind suddenly stilled into an ominous glare that same morning; and in a drastic turn of events, the way the hairs on the back of young Finn Shelby’s neck stood up at the sound of what he mistook for John’s laugh.

____________________

A week had passed after the eerie conversation at The Garrison. They carried on with their business, with bets and the rival gang that had pestered Tommy for months now. They were closing in around corners of Small Heath, leaving threatening notes on their doorsteps and even going as far as killing a Blinder and leaving him on the betting shop’s entrance. This caused the family to carry trinkets of good luck and repeating gypsy mantras to calm their superstitious beliefs that came with their Romanian blood.

It had all led up to the current position they all found themselves in. Thomas had a gash on his brow, causing blood to adorn his features. His gun pointing at the enemy’s face. The Weston’s were known for their brutality, even worse than a Blinders wrath. Arthur held an already dead man in his arms screaming like a maniac, threatening others who would dare come for them. Finn, Isiah, and Michael incessantly beating and battling the other men, all in a row of punches and blood and gore. A scene so obscene that would have made any person queasy. But these were no ordinary people. They were Shelbys. Polly peaked her head through the small room’s door, enough to see the violence unfold. They had been attacked by surprise at their own pub, and she feared for her nephews lives, more so now than any other time. Never taking her eyes away from the scene, she ferociously prayed for a miracle, a gift, a second chance.

The men grabbed Thomas by his arms, dangling him whilst another pointed a gun to his face. “Mr. Shelby, always have the upper hand,” said one of them with a tantalizing smirk, “but it seems your reign is over and your crown is mine.” The men chuckled and cheered, seeing their enemy half dead in their hands. Tommy looked up and smirked, which turned into a manic laugh, making the Blinders pause their movements. “Brother?” Arthur asked, gulping at Tom’s actions. Tommy looked at them still laughing, “You think you’ll defeat me? Whenever you think you have the upper hand, I will always be one step in front of you,” he paused to spit, and continued.

“It’s my legacy, it’s my family’s legacy. And you have the nerve to barge into my territory and declare war on me?” His smile never leaving his face, blood covering his teeth. All of them looking upon him in confusion.

The doors to The Garrison opened letting in dust and a cold wind meddle its way in. Footsteps echoed through the current silent pub. Arthur dropped the man that he held between his arms. Finn’s eyes flashed a look of confusion, recognizing the presence that made its way into the pub. Polly’s hands shook against her sides, too numb to move them. The footsteps grew louder, yet the pace never changed. Tommy looked at the men as they noticed also and chuckled, “Do you you really think I would have left my pub unsupervised for you lot to take?”

There in the middle of the room stood a group of men led by a girl, a girl that was perhaps younger than Finn. Her dark hair gathered loosely by a ribbon, freckles adorning her face and piercing eyes that matched her posture, determined and hard. Their saving grace. Their hail Mary pass.

“Y/N?” Whispered Arthur.

In a split second the Blinders ducked behind chairs and the other side of the bar. Their guns cocked and immediately erupted in a song of metal and flesh and screams. The girl’s face never changed, her body unbothered. Each and every men dropped to their knees with multiple bullets to their bodies.

The noise suddenly stopped. The Weston’s Leader remained standing, too embarrassed and in shock to move. Y/N made her way over and pointed her gun to his face, “Don’t fuck with the Peaky Blinders.” immediately putting a bullet between his eyes.

“Holy Jesus,” Polly said as she stumbled out of the room, “Y-You look just like her.”

Y/N turned around and smiled at the woman that stood there, pale as snow, as if she’d seen a ghost. “Hello aunt Poll.”

Tommy stood up with the help of a perplexed Arthur. “Who is she?”, Michael asked breaking the tension in the room.

“I don’t think any of you remember me clearly, I was just a girl when I left.” She said, a small smile appearing on her face. “This is Y/N, John’s daughter,” piped Tommy, looking at her tenderly.

“You weren’t delusional Polly, I just couldn't give her cover away.”

Polly made her way over to Y/N and cradled her face her hands. “I knew it,” she breathed out, “I knew it, didn't I? I knew that it wasn't a ghost. You look just like your mother.” Polly breathed out in a shaky voice causing the girl to smile widely.

“I reached out to Tommy. Wanted to be a part of the business, reunite with my family.” She said looking around the room excitedly.

Polly took the girl in her arms, allowing herself to sob freely. The room warmed up with the Shelby’s smiles. It wasn't Martha, It wasn't John, but it was their niece. A living, breathing piece of John’s heart for them to hold and treasure.

#john shelby imagine #john shelby fanfic #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #finn shelby imagine #Michael Shelby imagine #polly gray imagine #arthur shelby imagine #peakascum #platonic reader #the garrison

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sweetchup · 4 years

Text

A Helping Hand 2: A Check Up

Type: Shalnark x reader

Au?: Savior Au

Word Count: 6,500 (Holy Cannoli!)

Warnings: Hospital, Medicine, Cursing, sexual innuendos, mentions sexual assault, Angry Irish lady and Shalnark being a shark.

Author Note: Ahh I’m so glad I finally got this done. Actually when I woke up the morning after I got half way, I check the polls only to find out Family 2 had totally surpassed Helping Hand 😨 (which was way in the lead the night before). I guess Family 2 is next haha😋. Also I hope @lvndrhwis and @meromelodi enjoy because you two have been waiting for a part 2 for a while 💕💕💕.

<—(Pt.1) / (Pt.3)—>

“Doctor (l/n), oh there you are. Patient 104 and 122 is in need of a check up today in order to determine if they are allowed to be discharged.”

“Okay. Let’s see.” Your hand quickly grabs the paperwork from the nurse. You skim the paper quickly before giving it back to him, “Yes I’ll get that done sometime after I check the files of patient 66.”

The bright bleach white walls burn your eyes as you finally make your way into the intensive care’s central office. You’ve mentioned countless times to management that they need to get dimmer light bulbs in here, but they just don’t seem to want to listen to you. Stupid higher ups.

But that didn’t exactly matter right now, you could deal with that problem later. Ever so sluggishly, due to lack of caffeine and sleep, you walk over to one of the many metal file cabinets decorating the room. The freezing cold surface of the metal gives you goosebumps as you skim your hand down its surface. After passing two drawers you find the one you were looking for, named “R-W”, and open it up.

“Let’s see… Shalnark Ryuseih’s progress report, where did I put it?” You mutter under your breath, your diligent and quick fingers skimming back and forth between the many files trying to find it. Occasionally you pull a file out, only to put it back when you realize it’s not the one you were looking for. Where in the world is that file? It definitely shouldn’t be hard to find, not that many people have first and last names that either start with R-W. Actually you shouldn’t say that, there are some pretty unusual names out there. Like, Shooter, Slayer, Twinkle, Zi … wow... names can be pretty much anything nowadays.

“Ah!” Finally you had found the file, it had just been tucked into the wrong place. Opening up the yellow thick file paper, the first thing you see is the newest report given from PT and rehab sector. Reading it, you can’t help but allow a small smile to force its way onto your face.

You’ve been incredibly busy lately which has led you to not having much time to stop by on Shalnark. The only times being to make sure he falls asleep and to bring him food and meds since he doesn’t trust anyone else but you with those things. You had truly felt sad not being able to hang out with the smiley dorky man. Though, at the same time, a tiny bit of you on the inside was relieved not spending as much time with a sadistic mass murder.

But, all in all, you were just glad that even in your absence he has been making good progress. Shal had even recently moved to being able to walk around with crutches, a huge step forward for him (pun intended), and being able to messily begin to write the alphabet. You actually should go see him right now to tell him how pleased you were before checking on other patients.

That idea was soon lost though as the central office door was busted open, breaking your train of thought.

“Ah! (Y/n). There you are!”

Looking up from the file, you see Mal, the Front Desk women of the Intensive Care unit, and… a man you don’t recognize?

“Jeremiah, This is Doctor (L/n). (Y/n), this is Jeremiah. He has been transferred here from Abagail Union Hospital, Two cities away.”

The brunette male flashes you a charming smile as Mal introduces him, which you return with a small one of your own. In a welcoming gesture, you stick out your hand and you two share a quick hand shake; giving quick hello’s.

As your hand retracts you couldn’t help but feel…. off? Everything seemed okay but you couldn’t help but feel as if something was off, like as if the room changed somehow. It felt oddly familiar like you should know what it was… right? But, what exactly was off?

“I’m sure you remember this (y/n), but Jeremiah has never been a part of an intensive care unit before so management was hoping you could show him the ropes.”

Ah… That’s what it was, you had forgotten that management dropped another chore for you to do. They must be out for your throat or something.

“Of course!” You give Mal a wave as she leaves the room and Jeremiah in your hands. You quickly turn away from the man and put away Shalnark’s paperwork. Though, you can’t help but don’t want to put the file away, it was as if your hand was physically fighting against you letting it go. You let out a sigh and a small frown. Sorry Shal, I promise I’ll visit you tomorrow. Finally, your hand lets you put the file away after making that promise. But you still can’t help but feel as if you are physically hurt by your action.

You hear an awkward cough behind you and you turn back around.

“Sorry about that. Now let’s get you started right?” You say as enthusiastic as you can muster. You still are low on sleep and Caffeine after all.

“Yes of course, Doctor (l/n).”

“Please, just call me (y/n). It makes me feel old when people refer to me as Doctor.”

Jeremiah lets out a chuckle. “Okay, (y/n). Lead the way then, I’m glad you’re the one showing me the ropes”

Though, even with the cheerful small talk you have with Jeremiah as you two exit the room, you can’t help but hope you haven’t forgotten anything else.

Afterall,.... that strange feeling hasn’t left yet.

————🚨📱🚨————

“So, then…. hahaha….my sister said, ‘Fuck you I’m gonna do whatever I want’.” Suzanne explains to Jez and you as the three of you walk down the long and busy corridor. Small bits of chatter and talk from other people bouncing off the walls through the hallway

The two ladies let out a giggle as you end up almost choking on your drink. “Oh god. I swear everyone should know it’s common knowledge that whenever someone says that, nothing ever turns out well.” You explain letting out a sigh at the end.

“I know right!”

“Yep and that’s exactly what ends up happening next.”

“Oh god What happened?”

“Right after she finished her sentence. She ends up falling off the curve and landing face first into a huge muddy puddle. Like I’m talking huge.”

Jez lets out a gasp while you break out into a huge chuckle. “In her new satin dress?!” Jez says stunned.

“Yep! It was expensive too.”

“Well, it serves her right for— Oh crap.” You cut yourself off as you suddenly remember something. You quickly check your watch and begin to back step your path. It was time to bring Shalnark his food and meds. He would get so pissed if you forgot or was late. “I’m sorry I forgot to do something, I'll be right back.”

You finally turn around, almost bumping into someone as well, and begin to sprint down the corridor towards the lunch room. You can hear Suzanne and Jez let out a laugh.

“Don’t keep us waiting (y/n)! You-know-who is going to be sitting with us for lunch!”

“Yep and it would hurt if you miss out on him. Especially with how close you have gotten to him in the last two weeks.”

“I have not!” You shout back while turning around to glare at them; earning strange looks from doctors, nurses and patients around you as you do so. Their stares and whispers cause your cheeks to flare up in embarrassment and you let out a squeaky apology as you go back to scurrying to the lunch room. All the while you hear Jaz and Suzanne laughing getting louder and louder. Curse those two.

You haven’t gotten that close to Jeremiah. Sure, you’ve been helping him out every day since he joined the team two weeks ago. Along with the fact you practically spent every minute of your work day with him… okay, maybe they were correct. Maybe you and Jeremiah have gotten a little close but you didn’t feel anything for him, right?

You picture Jeremiah in your head. Yep.... just as you thought. Nothing.

Though at the same time…

As you thought about or are with Shalnark. There was this feeling; something ever so strange. It wasn’t in just one place either, it reached from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and fingers. First, it usually starts with your face feeling hot and, if you are able to see yourself, your cheeks are a light red flush shade. Then you can feel those... those butterflies? Yes, butterflies, in your stomach along with an ever so faster heartbeat. On top of that there were also other things that happened depending on the situation. The tingly feeling in your fingers when they accidentally brush his. The ghosting feeling of his hand prints and arms along your body the next day after he held you the night before. And finally, the one that drives you insane, when your eyes just lock onto his lips while he’s going on and on about whatever electronic or game thing he’s been interested in recently and you just feel that desperate need to just lean over and kiss him.

“(Y/n)!”

All of sudden you come out of your thoughts and realize you are standing right in front of Lara, the head worker of the canteen. She’s giving you a weird look and holding her hand up in your face. It seemed like she had been trying to get your attention for quite a bit.

“Are you okay, Lass? Your face is as red as Santa’s big red ass. Ya’ better not be driving any sickness or crazy mutating bullshitting disease into my canteen. Ya’ hear me!?”

“A-aa. I-I’m not sick, don't worry. I was just… Just lost in my thoughts, you know?” You scramble your hands around to help explain. How embarrassing… Shalnark is your patient and you are his doctor. It's part of your job that you keep a professional relationship with him,a hospital isn’t the place to fall in love. Plus what are you thinking having such feelings for a man that has ruined the lives of so many others.

Your explanation about why your face was red didn’t help though as you see Lara, being the cheeky leprechaun looking woman she is, flashing you a mischievous smile.

“Lost in your thoughts, eh? What type of thoughts are we talking about here~ Doctor (l/n)~.”

“N-no not those thoughts la—“

“Oh really? I swear I saw your face get a little bit more red just now~” Lara teases, poking a freezing cold finger to your burning cheeks. You quickly slap her finger away and attempt to explain.

“I-It’s because I’m embarr—“

“Ah. Ah. Ahhh~ I know a liar when I see one.” Lara leans over the counter and puts a hand to block the side of her mouth as if she’s sharing a super duper big secret with you. “Was it about Mr. BDE?”

“Mr. BDE?” BDE? What does BDE stand for.. is this another tiktik trend I don’t know about? I swear I told Lara a thousand times I’m never joining that cult like app.

“She's talking about the male patient you always come with or without to grab food for. The blonde one.”

Startled by the sudden new voice, you turn around to see Clara, another canteen worker, with her usual emotionless face watching you two converse.

“Well I guessed that. I was just confused about—“

“Well it should be hard to guess now! Especially now that you’ve been spending so much time with…” Lara let’s out an exaggerated gag and you only roll your eyes. You look towards Clara for help and thankfully she decides to be kind enough by grabbing you some food. “Ugh... Mr. SDE”

•

“M-Mr. SDE?” What is with these weird nicknames Sara is dishing out?

“She’s talking about the new doctor Jeremiah.” Clara shouts over to you two. You spare a glance over and see that she’s filling the tray full of Shalnark’s most liked foods. Even being nice enough to add a birthday cake flavored pudding cup. You aren’t sure exactly why but Shalnark is obsessed with birthday cake flavored foods. Though at the same time it makes sense, only the worst of the worst and monsters like birthday cake flavor.

“Well I have to spend time with Jeremiah. It’s my job to help—“

“How dare you (y/n)!” You look back over to Sara to see her sulking in the corner. What in the world? “I can’t believe ya’ betrayed your one true husbando like that.”

“WILL YOU STOP CUTTING ME OFF!?” you shout at the top of your lungs, about to go over and clobber Sara on top of the head. Though you are stopped by the fact that Clara has brought you Shalnark’s food. “Thank you, Clara. This is much appreciated unlike something else.”

You give one last glare at Sara, causing her to scramble away to the kitchen. Finally you can just leave and begin the long peaceful walk to Shalnark’s room.

“Ah wait. (Y/n)” Clara calls out as she remembers something.

“Hmm?”

Clara leans over and whispers something in your ear. You feel your face heat up and you start to shake with anger.

“OH, SO THAT'S WHAT ‘BDE’ MEANS. SARA GET YOUR BUTT BACK OUT HERE!”

————🚨📱🚨————

It was peaceful in Shalnark’s room, the only noise being the clicking noise of the keys on his laptop as he was coding something. Though that is soon disturbed as a sudden knock comes at his door.

“Come in.” Shalnark calls, not even bothering to look up to see who is coming in. The door opens with a soft whoosh and Shalnark suddenly surrounded by the aroma of warm cooked food. His stomach growls as a reaction and he hadn’t even realized that he was practically starving up until now. How long had he been messing around with his computer? 2 hours? No that wasn’t right.

Checking the clock in the corner of his computer screen he realizes it’s been more than 9 hours since he’s started.

Hearing the clicking noise of the door shut up, which snaps him out of his thinking, he looks up to see you are there. Though, he can’t clearly see you as you are faced away from him as you closed the door shut.

“Why hello there Doctor~. What do—“ His singsong tone is stopped as you finally turn around; giving him a good look at you. “oh wow (y/n) what happened to you?”

“O-oh it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Huh? But it looks like you got in a fight somehow.” Shalnark muses, his bright green eyes observing you closer as you make your way to his bedside. It seemed pretty obvious to him you had gotten into some sort of complication, especially with your unusually wrinkled clothes, a light sweat glistening your skin and the messy state of your hair.

“Oh no, not at all. It’s just been a busy day that’s all. So I haven’t had the chance to constantly keep myself neat.” You lie as you sit in the chair next to the bedside, not wanting to exactly explain to Shalnark why you had to chase Sara around the canteen with a rolling pin in hand. As you place the tray of warm food on Shalnark’s lap, you feel a ghost-like touch on the skin of your face.

You flinch away at the strange feeling, but a sturdy hand grabs the back of your neck that stops you from moving any further.

“Sit still (y/n).” Shalnark says. You look towards his face as he flashes you a wide smile and reaches with his other hand to your hair. You normally would stop Shalnark from touching you like this unless absolutely needed but decided it wouldn’t hurt to allow him this time.

Honestly, for a man that was considered by so many as a demon or the devil himself, he looked like a true saint in this moment while he was concentrating on fixing your hair. From his sunny hair shining like pure gold strands to his delicate soft pale skin looking like sculpted marble, He truly looked like something not of this world. It also didn’t help that the sunlight from the afternoon sun bounced off his features giving him an ethereal glow. “There you go. Oh wait...”

Your snap out of your daze as you feel shalnark put something in your hair. Suddenly, the ever so soft scent of a sweet, possibly vanilla or candy-like, scent fills your senses. Shakily, and almost hesitantly, you reach up a hand to feel what was put in your hair.

“Ah ah ahh. You’ll knock it out of place if you do that.” Shalnark teases as his hand stops yours from touching the item. He gives you an extra cheeky smile as he cheekily interlocks his fingers with yours.

“O-oh sorry.” You mumble shyly out. Crap, you feel your face begin to burn up. In a quick decision to try and save yourself, you turn your head away from him to act as if you are grabbing some medicine to add to his food. Thankfully, you soon feel your blush dial down quickly and you grab the right pill bottle to pop the right dosage into his food.

Turning around and mixing the medication in, you finally turn your attention back to Shalnark. You confusingly blink a couple of times at him. What in the world?

“Shal…. Are you catching flies with your mouth or something?” You say as you continue to look at Shalnark. You were extremely confused at why his mouth was slightly opened.

Shalnark raises an eyebrow at your comment but his happy mood doesn’t seem to be faltered in any way. “How rude (y/n)! I’m your patient shouldn't you be helping me eat?”

“Exactly what are you trying to get at?”

“I thought you were smarter than this (y/n).” Shal says in pout, “I’m telling you to feed me.”

“Not happening.” You deadpanned causing the blonde man to pout even more in front of you.

“Awww but why not?!”

“You have two perfectly good arms, Shalnark. I…” You trail off at the end as you lock eyes with Shalnark. You recognize that glint in his eyes. Oh great you had made the mistake of letting your guard down, exactly why did you compare him to a saint before?

“Huh? Doctor that isn’t very nice of you. I struggle even writing my name but you think I’m ready to try something as tough and painful as attempting to hold a weighted spoon. I find that cruel and it would be such a shame if—“

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. ‘It would be such a shame if unfair treatment and unkindly behavior gets reported to management.’” You recite the rest of his words. Afterall, this isn’t the first time Shalnark has attempted to be manipulative in getting special rights from you or other staff. You especially wanted to strangle him the time he went too far. Also known as the time he really dug into a poor nurse in training when she wouldn’t give him rights to his electronics. The poor girl ended up running out of the hospital bawling and never showing up again.

“Soooo….. you’ll help me?” Shalnark says in a sickly sweet tone, as if he didn’t just threaten you.

“Yes, yes. I’ll feed you, you Manipulative asshole” You answered, monotoned, all the while grabbing the tray from off his lap and getting a spoonful of the lunch food.

“Oh? Are we using big girl words now, Doctor?” Shalnark teases. You aren’t looking at his face but you bet you could practically hear his smile growing by the second.

“Yes I am.” You take the filled spoon and put it to his lips, “Open up.”

•

You feel your hand begin to shake. Not from holding it up but from your increasing anger. Shalnark's smile had just grown more as he continued to keep his mouth shut and refuse to open it. You could even swear you could hear the petty asshole internally making fun of you.

“Say ah?”

Nope. That didn’t work as he continued to refuse to open up.

“P-P-Please open up?” You say out, trying your hardest to not lose your cool.

Jesus Christ. You were just about ready to chuck this lunch tray in Shalnark’s stupid handsome face. But you knew that would only mean Shalnark had won. Afterall, you too could play this game.

Even if it didn’t look like it, you could tell Shalnark got confused as you suddenly placed the tray down on the table next to you.

“Shal.” You say, catching his attention. The blonde hair man could feel himself suddenly struggle to breath as you softly place a hand on his shoulder and lightly lean your top half against his. With the close proximity of you two he could even smell the faint scent of what was believed to be the shampoo you use.

Shalnark let out a loud gulp as he attempted to calm down his racing heartbeat. He watches for what feel like hours as you bat your eyes at him and make eye contact. “Open up, pretty please.”

Finally, with mild hesitation, Shalnark opens his mouth, giving you the opportunity to feed him. Hahaha, suits him right. You win~

You give him a couple spoonfuls like that before what you are doing finally hits you. You desperately and quickly back away. You are supposed to be professional. He’s your patient. Not someone you can flirt with or your boyfriend. A patient.

Your actions today have crossed a line. You don’t even deserve to call yourself a Doctor if you act this way while on duty.

“I apologize. That was extremely unprofessional of me.” You say embarrassed; unable to meet his gaze.

Shalnark feels as if his heart is clogged up in his throat as he watches you. He’s never felt this feeling before. He’s actually never felt any of this domesticated stuff before. From the nice feeling of being safe and loved in your arms that sometimes makes him want to cry tears of joy to the bubbly feeling in his stomach when he hears your ever so pretty laugh fill up the room. This was all so strange to him. Yet he can’t stop himself from wanting more of it; more of you. He truly is a very greedy man.

Ever so carefully he reaches a hand out in an attempt to grab yours. His fingertips were just about to ghost your skin as he finally spoke.

“(Y/—“ The door suddenly bursts open, cutting off whatever shalnark was about to say and causes him to quickly retract his hand. “(Y/n)! There you are.”

Looking to the door you see Jeremiah standing there, somewhat leaning on the doorway. “Oh…, are you busy right now?”

“A-ah I’m just about finished up. I just needed to help give Mr. Ryuseih his food and meds.” You explain, giving Jeremiah a small smile. Thank goodness he hadn’t walked in any earlier.

“Oh really? You need help?” You watch as Jeremiah walks closer to you. He goes right next to you, practically almost touching you, and grabs the tray on the table. “Ah it’s already been partially eaten? Does this patient not want to eat?”

“No. I was just offering to help feeding him to help him sinc—”

“Well that’s not needed. Mr. Ryuseih has perfectly good capability over his hands and arms so he can feed himself.” Jeremiah explains. Placing the plate on Shalnark’s lap. “Plus it’s your lunch break right now and as a doctor of the intensive care unit it’s important you eat.”

“Yes but, it’s also my duty to help patients. Shalnark—”

“You mean Mr. Ryuseih.” Jeremiah says; cutting you off.

“Huh? What do—“

“(Y/n),... I’m going to tell you this because I care about you as a fellow doctor and a friend. There’s been some rumors popping up around the office about yours and Mr. Ryuseih’s.... relationship.” Jeremiah explains, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. You can practically hear your heart pounding out of your chest at this point. “Relationships between staff and patients don’t go against our contract and are allowed but…, as you know, they are regarded as highly inappropriate. So, if management does get a wind of these rumors it could have some consequences.”

“But-t it’s not like that. I’m just making sure that Shal—“ Jeremiah cuts you off as he places a hand on your shoulder.

“(Y/n), for both your sake and along with your patient,” Jeremiah gestures to Shalnark, who is unusually not smiling like usual. “I would suggest dialing down on the friendly… interactions. You know?”

“I-I—“ You feel dread and this pressure just all around as you struggle to form your thoughts into coherent sentences.

“It’s for the best, (y—“ “I would suggest that you quit cutting her off.”

Both of you are surprised as Shalnark suddenly speaks. You are extra stunned as you have never heard Shalnark speak in such a serious tone before.

“Pardon?”

“I said ‘quit cutting her off.’”

There’s a long pause before Jeremiah lets out a sigh. “You are right. I apologize for being so rude (y/n), I only meant to help you. Not to make you feel bad.”

Jeremiah gives you a pat on the back and a small smile. “I’ll be taking my leave. I hope this doesn’t deteriorate our friendship in any way.”

You do want to forgive Jeremiah since it seems like his intentions were to be helpful. But, from stress and shock at everything being told, you can’t speak. It is even starting to feel hard to breath in here. What’s going on?

“Calm down.”

Suddenly, a soothing voice enters your ringing ears and you are being pulled down into a safe embrace. Originally it felt nice but now you slowly begin to realize who it is holding you.

“S-s-shal-l-l. N...o…” You struggle to even get out the simplest of words, not even considering the struggle it is to even attempt to move.

“(Y/n) he’s gone. No one is here but you and I. Don’t worry about that. You need to calm down.”

As Shalnark says that, you realize the cotton shirt beneath your face is damp. You were crying. Maybe even full on bawling and you hadn’t even realized it. Were you going through some sort of panic attack? Or possibly a state of shock? You didn’t even know.

Suddenly, the sweet sound of whistling fills the room. You feel yourself unintentionally focusing on the soft tune. Then, ever so slowly, after a little bit of time you can feel yourself relaxing and slowly coming back to the world around you.

Shalnark ever so softly puts one of his hands on your back. Running his fingers in careful, almost methodically, circles and shapes. He really wanted to strangle that guy. No, he wanted that asshole to feel the pain of hell and back. But, what was with that feeling?

Something was off about the room when the guy entered. Yet, Shalnark just couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was.

That’s what was pissing him off the most.

————🚨📱🚨————

“Mr. Ryuseih.” A nurse calls but Shalnark can’t hear her. He’s too far into his own thoughts, trying to figure out what in the world was that strange feeling yesterday afternoon.

Was it just the mood of the room? No, it affected (y/n) and I too much to be just the ‘mood of the room’.

“Mr. Ryuseih.”

Was it just tense aura?... No, that isn’t it either. I would be able to tell right away. Along with that, when he was left alone with me later to help with my crutches I didn’t feel that feeling again… It has to be something to do with (y/n). But, what exactly?

“Mr. Ryuseih!”

“Huh?” Shalnark snaps out of his thoughts as he realizes a nurse is on the side of his bed holding a pair of crutches.

“It’s time for morning PT and I’m here to make sure you whippersnapper make your way there safely. We better get going unless you want to be late, mister.” The nurse scolds, shaking her finger.

“Oh. Apologies.” Shalnark says, grabbing the crutches from her. “Let’s get going.”

Now… where was I. So I had just figured out it had a connection with (y/n). But what? Revenge? No, (y/n) hasn’t let a patient die under her care yet and all major surgeries are mostly by high class surgeons so she wouldn’t be involved if someone did end up dying without her knowledge.

Could it be me? Something to do with me? No, he had plenty of opportunities to end me especially with the weak state I am in now. Espec—

A scream rings down the hallway causing everyone to look over. Everyone was curious about what had caused the scream but no one was as curious as Shalnark. Especially when he felt that all too familiar feeling. What had Jeremiah done?

Wait a minute…

Shalnark eyes widen as he finally is able to see the scene. A nurse was huddled on the ground while a man stood in the doorway. It wasn’t Jeremiah causing that feeling. It was someone else. But how and why?

“Viv! What happened?” A doctor shouts, coming to the nurse’s aid.

“H-h-h-he” The nurse stutters out, struggling to make a coherent sentence. The next words made Shalnark’s stomach drop. “He molested me. He put his hand up my-y…”

A gasp resounds around the hallway and the bodyguard swoop in to grab the man for questioning.

“How awful… Hey! Mr. Ryuseih where are you going?!” The elderly nurse shouts, now realizing shalnark was making his way as fast he can, with crutches, down the opposite way of the hallway. The way that was in the direction of the Intensive Care Unit.

All the while Shalnark was cursing himself out. How could he be so stupid and have forgotten? It was the Nen basics. Bloodlust is based on someone’s intentions to harm another person. That strange feeling all along was Jeremiah’s bloodlust. Jeremiah’s intention to assault (y/n). Intentions which changed the usual feeling of harmful aura.

Shalnark finally makes his way to the front desk and slams his hand down, startling Mal who was cleaning her glasses.

“Where’s doctor (l/n)? I need her immediately!”

Putting on her glasses, she looks up at Shalnark. “D-Doctor (l/n) had to leave early today.”

“Huh!? How come?”

“She wasn’t feeling well. It seemed like she had drank some bad milk in her coffee.”

“Bad milk?—“ “Hey blondie! What’s up with ya’?” A loud voice cuts Shalnark off.

Shalnark angrily turned around to see…. a leprechaun like women?

“My good friend (Y/n) will be back tomorrow. No need to cause a ruckus. Ya’ can tell her whatever you want tomorrow~~” She says, placing a hand on his shoulder. Shalnark cringes. He could tell she must be an enhancer with such a strong grip. Wait, a moment…did she just call (y/n) a friend?

A lightbulb goes off in Shalnark’s head.

“You don’t understand. I can’t wait for tomorrow!”

“Hmm? How come?”

Shalnark leans over and whispers in the lady’s ear.

“Oh hell nAH! Mal!” The lady screeches, startling the poor women again, “Where’s that Donkey Ass Doctor?!”

“D-D-Donkey Ass Doctor…?” Mal recites, confused.

“She means Jeremiah.” A monotone voice calls from behind Shalnark. Swiveling his head around he sees a blank face woman. She bows at Shalnark, “I apologize for Lara. I’m Clara, her Co-worker.”

“Clara you don’t understand! (Y/n) is in danger! She’s—” Lara shouts.

“Calm down and explain, Lara. You babbling isn’t getting us anywhere.” Clara coldly says causing Lara to freeze. Carefully, due to her being careful not to piss Clara off, Lara softly whispers what’s going on in Clara’s ear. Suddenly, Clara turns her ice cold gaze to Mal, “Where. Is. Jeremiah?”

Poor Mal. She’s already having to start off the day with a bad morning.

“J-J-Jeremiah is helping (y/n) going home.” Everyone's heart dropped.

“What?!” Lara barked out.

“I-I-It’s because H-he felt bad because he’s technically the one that made her coffee-e which got her sick. T-they just left a couple of minutes ago-o, they should be making their way to the parking garage.

The puzzle piece finally clicked in Shalnark’s head. This was likely not Jeremiah’s first time doing this. So probably the reason he transferred here was to get away from suspicion from a previous assault case. When he got here he decided to have (y/n) as his next victim and was trying to get close with her. But, he couldn’t do that with me. (Y/n) spent her breakfast, lunch, and dinner breaks with me and, based on what’s going on, he was unable to use his usual method of drugging his victims’ food or drink.

But, because of what happened yesterday, she decided to spend breakfast away from me. Giving him his opportunity.

“Mal, call security! (Y/n) is in danger. Let’s go blondie!!”

“O-okay!” Mal says, quickly pumping in security’s number into the telephone.

Shalnark snaps out his thoughts as Lara pushes him into a wheelchair.

“Hold on tight!!” She shouts, grabbing the handles and pushing Shalnark through the exit doors of the intensive care unit.

Lara with Clara in tow rush down as fast as they can down the hallway. Shalnark held tightly onto the arm rests of the wheelchair, afraid for his life, as Lara was barking for people to get out the way.

“Crap,” Lara suddenly mutters. Stopping dead in her tracks as they reach the humongous parking garage, “Hey Clara! How are we going to find them in the parking garage?!”

“Use En idiot. We can split up to make it faster so you go to the right side of the parking lot while I go to the left side. Just try to find (y/n)’s or Jeremiah’s aura.” Clara says, quickly running off to the left entrance.

“O~ K~”

Shalnark can’t help but bite his lip in frustration. He felt totally useless in this situation. Sure, he could use En to help find (y/n) but he still hasn’t gotten his special ability back and was also physically weak. He was practically utterly dead weight if Jeremiah put up a fight.

“Ughhh nothing on the first floor!” Lara groans in frustration.

2nd floor…

3rd….

4th….

Come on (y/n) where are you?

The last and 5th floor…. nothing… They were too late. Shalnark looks to the ground in defeat and anger.

“Lara!!” Shalnark looks up at the sudden loud call.

Looking off in the distance from where he heard the call, he sees that Clara had found Jeremiah and was struggling to keep him pinned to the ground. Lara quickly runs over to aid Clara, leaving Shalnark alone.

Slightly struggling, Shalnark is able to slowly wheel himself over to Jeremiah and the black car he’s being pinned outside of. Deciding to look through the windows, his eyes scan the inside of the car and he holds his breath as he is finally able to see you. Only to release it when he realizes you are, thankfully, perfectly fine and just asleep. It looked like they had just gotten there in the nick of time.

Thank goodness...

————🚨📱🚨————

“Why the hell are ya’ here?” Lara shouts, catching the attention of people in the hallway as she begins to shake you around.

“L-l-Lara calm dowwwn” You say between breaths, you feel as if your breath has been knocked out of you. Literally. It also didn’t help that the hallway around you was getting more and more hard to make out as you get more and more dizzy.

“Lara.”

Lara pauses as she hears Clara's cold tone. Quickly she pulls her hands off of you and scurries backwards. “And you.”

You freeze as Clara turns her ice piercing gaze to you. Oh, crap crap crap.

“You should be at home resting. You literally were so close to getting assaulted yesterday. You shouldn’t be working after a day like that. You need time off.”

“Well actually Management ordered me to take two to three weeks off with pay. So I’m not here to work.” You explain, rubbing the back of your neck due to the pressure of Clara’s gaze.

“I don’t buy that. You—“ “Wait, hold up Clara. She might actually be telling us the truth.” Lara says, cutting off Clara and also pointing at your clothes. You blush lightly as they examine your outfit.

“You dressed pretty nicely today, (y/n). How come?”

“Y-yeah. Well I wanted to give this to you two in appreciation of my gratitude.” You mumble, slightly embarrassed. Opening up your big hobo bag, you hand an item to each of them.

“Strawberry ShortCake!” “CCCCAAAAROOT CAKE!” Lara and Clara shout together in excitement. Practically drooling as they examine their gifts. You swear your friends followed their stomachs more than their brains sometimes, though, at the same time, it makes sense since they work in the canteen.

Clara gives you a little bow. “Thank you (y/n). But you didn’t really have to get us anything.”

“Yeah (y/n)!! I mean you are such a sweetheart to give us gifts! But ya’ didn’t have to, we were just doing what friends do.” Lara bawls, giving you a bone breaking hug.

“Careful Lara, you’ll break the other cake she has.”

“Other cake?”

Lara sneakily looks into your bag to see that there was indeed another cake in the bag. The cheeky leprechaun girl looks up and gives you a smirk. “Oh ho ho~ looks like (y/n) is also going to say thanks to Mr. Prince Charming.”

“Shut up Lara.” You groan, pulling your bag away from her clutches. You turn away from the two and begin to walk down the hallway to Shalnark’s room. “I-I have to go. Enjoy your cake you two.”

Your face turns a bright red as you feel a hard slap to your behind. “And I’m sure Shalnark will enjoy your cake as well~~”

“LARA FROST!”

#shalnark #shalnark x reader #phantom troupe #hxh #hunter x hunter

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qlistening · 3 years

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Is Now a Good Time to Become a Hippie?

Ha ha fun little opening note: I opened my iPad to write this and saw the Cornell notes template and now I’m wondering how the people who had to take Cornell notes to get through college are doing these days. Probably not well.

I’m cracking open the blog again this summer to really do some justice to the two month identity crisis that I, and maybe you, have been experiencing since graduation. I’ve been through the wringer, like most people, with the classic post-grad crises of “What am I doing with my life?” and “What am I even good at?”, and “Will I ever have fun again like I did in college?”. But honestly fuck those crises. That kind of shit is so cliche and boring to talk about. I need bigger broader shit on my plate. The type of existential garbage that can really wreck you. The types of questions that can’t be answered by your Mom saying “it’s okay honey”.

So the set I came up with is as follows: “What rules should I live my life by if I truly believe that our society will crumble to climate change in 1 - 2 generations?”, “How can I ever protect my soul from capitalism when I need the constant stimulation of city life to distract me from my depression?”, and “If I reconnect with my hippie childhood, will it destroy my chances of happiness and success later in life like it did for my parents?”.

I know what you’re thinking: “That’s an awesome list Ava. I wish I could have come up with that myself”. Sorry you can’t be me.

It’s got just enough “this girl needs to lay off the acid” undertones to be dismissed by the common man, yet is valid enough to make any stoner or stoner+ (the + is psychedelics) a little itchy.

Whithought further ado--I left this typo in here because I couldn’t stop laughing at it--, lettuce unpack these crises.

1. What rules should I live my life by if I truly believe that our society as we know it will crumble in 1 - 2 generations? I wish the answer was as simple as “more whippets”, but sadly, it just never is. There are actually a lot of sub-questions here like “Is enough change to reverse the course of climate change even possible at this point?”, “Does our species even deserve to be saved, or should we lean into the suffering and let the deer dance on our graves?”, “What the fuck are you supposed to be with your life when you can’t bring yourself to reproduce because the world is ending so you have to constantly invent a sense of purpose for yourself instead of just using your kids as a cop out?, and lastly “What if you’re making a mistake by not going to Mars with Jeff and Elon na d the vibes there end up being super lit?”

You see, I’m really good at coming up with these questions, but pretty bad at answering them. All I’ve come up with in terms of the rules and purpose part is just to vibe it out and focus my energy on good ol’ drugs, sex, and rock n roll till the end. But UH OH! Now I’ve become my parents.

Perhaps I could focus on nature, gratitude, and spirituality? OH CRUD! Now I’m Rose, who has definitely reconciled these issues better than me, but has the advantage of being an introvert. Shorty don’t need that social stimulation like I do and can just go hermit mode when the going gets tough. Not I.

How about a commune? Tempting, but I’ve heard about a lot of commune drama in my day and don’t really want to get whisked into some Midsommer shit by accident.

Comedy? Can’t go monetizing my best coping mechanism, now can I?

Pose your questions to a broader audience in folk songs like Bob Dylan? I think I’m too street for that and I can’t play the guitar.

Focus on work and being successful? Nope. Work blows and I’m supposed to be protecting my soul from capitalism.

I tend to treat this question like the hard ones on the EOGs and just skip it and plan on circling back later.

2. How do I protect my soul from capitalism when I need the constant stimulation of city life to distract me from my depression? And when I say I need that shit, I mean it. New people. New shit to do. All the time. I ain’t havin’ no baby, so settling down isn’t in the cards either. There is no scenario where I am going to move out to the suburbs just to stare at my husband every night for 30+ years or, in a more likely scenario, stare at the wall. I’m staying on the scene for a long time, maybe forever.

That being said, the city is ripe with capitalism. Everyone works like a dog 24/7, switching back and forth between 2 - 4 Apple devices to accomplish God knows what in the grand scheme of things. Tech, finance, and marketing (the classic city trio) have to be the most pointless and cutthroat industries we have come up with to date. It feels like you have to have to have one of those jobs to live there. To afford it, sure, but beyond that, to know that you beat out someone else to get it and that you have successfully stepped on your first of many necks on the way to the top.

I’m moving to Chicago in like 2 weeks to work in tech/finance and sucking my own dick for having a management position so, clearly, I am not above any of this. But I sure wish I was. Even the first month of my soul-selling transaction feels like it has taken years off my life and dulled my flame quite a bit more than school ever did. So I am on the LOOKOUT for ways to get my mouth on some deep dish pizza and fine Chicago men without all of these bullshit side effects.

And Finally…

3. If I reconnect with my hippie childhood now, will it destroy my chances at happiness and success like it did for my parents?

I feel like this one needs to be elaborated on a little more. For anyone who doesn’t know, my parents are both raging Dead Heads who practiced the art of escapism together on tour for 20 some years until Jerry Garcia died tragically in ‘95. In a desperate search for a new purpose, they popped out me and my sister and now we’re all living the middle class dream in a ranch house on the outskirts of Greensboro. “But at least they’re happy and they love each other right?” Nope. Ls all around.

Sadly, this isn’t just my parents. This seems to be the classic hippie timeline. You feel good, get high, get laid, and indulge your senses in your 20s and you realize that none of it is monetizable and come out the other end begging for capitalism to take you back and bless you with a mediocre career. I know I sound like Nixon right now, but I’m just reading off the data from what I’ve seen.

Shit is really fucking sad man. I just want to think and feel and vibe and enjoy the world for what it is before it gets too crispy but I feel like I can’t. Any step away from my career feels like it will just land me at the bottom of the totem poll with a job that sucks even more than the one I started with. And yeah, I’m a lot smarter and slicker and decidedly childless than my parents, but it feels like a big fucking dice roll to do the same thing that they did and expect a different outcome. I mean they are the two most genetically similar people to me on the planet, after-all. I really do think I have to be careful and stick with the straight and narrow for now. Bummer because I would like to just bool before the world ends, but unfortunately, that’s going to take a little too long for me to avoid these problems.

In conclusion: I believe the answer to the question I posed in the title is “Not really and I should probably start hashing these things out with a therapist instead of a tumblr blog sooner rather than later”.

And if you are wondering, no I am not high right now, but I am about to be because that shit was heavy.

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godkilller · 3 years

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@izzabizz139

I wanna hear you rant about the Gin vs Hitsugaya anime fight bc I love seeing your pov and you clearly write better than whoever extended that scene :) pretty please

out of character. DON’T ENABLE ME SO MUCH !! No but I cackled when I first saw this ask because oh my god, clearly you saw a taste of my annoyance about the anime adaptation -- no, adaptation implies it was accurate, I’ll say the anime’s take was “inspired by” the manga’s quick run-in. I’ll start by saying this moment is supposed to be a bit important considering, via the audience’s point of view, THIS IS THE FIRST WE SEE OF TWO CAPTAIN-RANKED SHINIGAMI CLASHING. The only other captain-involved fight we’ve seen thus far in the manga is Kenpachi ( who is an outlier and should not be counted... no, I joke... but, still, Ichigo was not an equal to him, his sword was sliced through like butter. ) The whole reason I enjoyed this encounter between Toshiro and Gin was simply this; it wasn’t some fancy multi-chaptered fight. IN THE MANGA, THERE ARE ONLY TWO BLOWS MADE. One, by Toshiro, to begin the fight. The second, to end it, is Gin’s strike.

I want you to know that I’ve rewatched this specifically to answer this ask, and only due to this, as I wouldn’t have ever sought it out otherwise. HONOR MY SACRIFICE.

Read more for length. I’m merciful.

In the anime, they monologue at each other, and it’s mostly a combination of Toshiro making three separate death threats ( he starts this off by saying “I’ll kill you before Hinamori arrives” and then goes on rewording it each time, and then also repeats the death-threat he gave Gin prior to this conflict about “I’ll kill you if Hinamori bleeds” ) and then also Gin and Izuru talking about how truly powerful and amazing Toshiro is -- no, this isn’t me being bitter or petty, I literally shit you not, Gin has a line that is legit “AS EXPECTED FROM HITSUGAYA TOSHIRO, CAPTAIN OF THE TENTH DIVISION, A CHILD PRODIGY OF TH' SORT THAT ONLY COMES ALONG ONLY ONCE EVERY FEW CENTURIES. HOW VEEEERY DANGEROUS. YOU’RE SERIOUS, AIN’T YA?” like don’t get me wrong, love a good sarcastic little shit comment like that, but the amount of times the anime pumps Toshiro up like he’s their shinest new cash cow ( and he is, at this point, it is not even 50 episodes into the series and they’ve realized everyone likes him and he’s jumped to high ranks in popularity polls... earning him filler spotlights, and eventually his very own non-canon movie ) so everything coming out of Gin’s mouth feels like more bullshit than necessary. Izuru’s already literally monologued, internally, how powerful and amazing Toshiro is anyways. Why this ?

Not to mention that, prior to saying that long-winded shit, Gin’s haori changed length three times ( and once it was longer than his entire body by several feet, and no not in a ‘to show motion’ way ) and most importantly Shinso was drawn, consistently, at katana-length for the duration of their little spat where the following, too, happened: Gin frog-leaps after doing a backflip, Toshiro gives Gin two (2) haircuts, Gin ruins some floorboards and gives Toshiro at least one splinter in his arm, Toshiro whilst wearing socks lands on Shinso’s blunt edge and pushes the sword down with his footsie because that’s how that works, there’s another backflip somewhere in there that Gin doesn’t need to be doing, twirl, twirl, and ballet, Gin’s face elongates until his chin is bigger than his face, Gin spends ten+ seconds purely dodging very close strikes to his face as Toshiro is the only one making breathy growly and ‘tsuuaaah’ sounds, there is a brief moment of no gravity as Toshiro keeps hacking at Gin midair and Gin blocks it over and over again but they still stay in the air but they’re not standing or jumping or using reiatsu they’re just like, momentum-locked I don’t fucking know, Gin frowny faces as he blocks because like somehow this kid who doesn’t even have more reiatsu than him, whose arm strength should not be an issue, is like. making him nervous?? as sword sparks fly. if you know me at all you know I hate when they fuckin’ firework sparkler-ify swords clashing.

Anyways, all of this happens whilst Shinso is the wrong length and Gin’s hair is getting purpler by the second and this entire thing is somehow a big jack-off to Toshiro’s immense strength even though he’s screaming and wailing at Gin like a child and Gin’s just a vessel at this point to Enhance Toshiro, which, fine, okay, but at least be more accurate with it god damn. ANYWAYS,

THEY JOUST. They literally run at each other, swords centered, and run past / to the side of one another. Jousting. “Cause that’s how that works. No slashes, no cutting motion. Just swords centered, because the animators were like “no worries guys I know swordfighting basics that’s a legit pose” yeah it is WHEN STATIONARY. Not rUNNING IT DOWN.

And then Gin’s sleeve is cut, somehow, from the Jousting, because wow Toshiro wow wow wowowowow, and then Toshiro comes back and starts wailing at Gin again and Gin blocks it, again, and it’s all very annoyingly repetitive, and Gin’s frowning and sparks are flying and Gin’s using Shinso, the katana-length wakizashi I guess, with two hands because like I said, the animators knew basics and basics are “katana are used two-handed” like. Okay, you’re not wrong, but I cannot stress this enough: SHINSO IS NOT A KATANA. It’s shorter and meant to be used single-handed!!!! sTop!!! So then Gin rips off the tattered part of his sleeve and throws it at Toshiro, who swipes it away from his face using his Zanpakuto because that’s intelligent and a piece of cloth was definitely threatening enough to use your sword to bat it away ( btw, Hitsugaya wasn’t holding his sword with two hands at this precise moment, so he could have just... used his other hand ) and then Gin goes in for the classic “stabby stabby rapidly at you while the animation gets a little breather because we repeat this cycle a few times with flashy bgs and phew money made” ... WE ARE FOUR MINUTES AND THIRTY SECONDS INTO THIS FIGHT BY THE WAY. Gin does this for seventeen (17) agonizing seconds straight. Yes, I counted. That was sixteen and a half too many seconds for me, personally.

Toshiro somehow lassos Shinso whilst Gin is stabby stabby-ing with Hyourinmaru’s chain component. I say component like it’s somehow some type of beauty guru’s lipstick holder, but really am I that wrong ? When else has he ever used this feature ? Anyways, he lassos Shinso because yeehaw I guess, god I’m falling apart at this point can y’all tell????? I need a drink.

and so, because now Toshiro has Gin’s sword somehow trapped with chain even though it’s just looped around it, he backflips over Gin for a cool trickshot, no blow issued, just vibes, and Gin uses a big brain moment to tug Shinso and the chains slide off. okay now what. We’re past five minutes into this fight, nonstop.

SOUNDS LIKE A GOOD TIME FOR GIN TO PAUSE AND APPRECIATE TOSHIRO AGAIN! “I see, I shouldn’t have underestimated you, HItsugaya Toshiro” I’m starting to have a feeling Gin’s VA was told to just wing these lines because the amount of times he fills silences / Gin’s mouth movements with Toshiro’s long-ass name is astounding, he’s definitely drawing blanks here but he sure as hell knows one thing: that damn ice-boy’s name. He continues by saying “I suppose I’ll end up regretting it afterwards.”

Toshiro says that’s not enough, and it’s really dramatic and cool. His eyes even glow all icy and blue and pretty, like his flowy reiatsu. Aesthetic points were gifted entirely to Toshiro’s animations in this scene. Gin was finished in MS Paint and each new scene they had to draw Shinso from memory and try to remember what hue of purple his hair was at gunpoint. Toshiro lets off a big wave of reiatsu and then it vanishes, and he jumps up reaaaally high. like this guy’s flying. his eyes arent glowing anymore that’s sad. Bring Back Glowing Eyes For Strong Shinigami 2k21.

Toshiro releases his Shikai, and it’s badass, the sky darkens, Izuru looks distinctly more worried than usual, and Gin’s frowning with his teeth out like Bugs Bunny’s having a bad day, all is right in the world. Toshiro and his released Shikai have a nice moment for the Pics, and a big epic freeze frame blur moment happens with it all coiled and swirling around him. Wrow! ( click the ‘wrow’ it’s a link to my exact reaction ) Izuru narrates for the third time about how powerful Toshiro is, his reiatsu, his Zanpakuto being a deity who is only unlocked every few centuries. The strongest ice-type sword. Pardon the pun, but that’s... you could say, so cool.

It can even control the weather. So hey, next time it’s rainy, cold, icy, or snowing and you’re unhappy, it’s time to direct a big fuck you at Toshiro.

Gin dodges the first dragon, and blocks the second with Shinso because blocking water and ice with a sword makes sense right? This actually takes a solid amount of seconds as Gin cuts through the entire length of this ice dragon noodle. Things dissipate, and pause, too, to really drag this out. Surprisingly, this reveals that Gin’s made a boo-boo, his left arm’s frozen, which doesn’t even mean anything because Gin is right-handed, and Toshiro teleports himself behind Gin in true fighty fashion.

We have arrived at seven minutes and just under twenty seconds of this fight, and Gin turns, DOES THE UNTHINKABLE, gasp! He opens his eyes. His red, dull, evil, gray-eyebrowed with purple hair eyes, and shoots Shinso through its hideout spot behind his haori. This nearly takes off Toshiro’s eye and upwards of his head, but the little guy dives down fast. The rest happens in slow motion, supposedly, because it takes an eternity and people talk entire full sentences in its span of time.

Gin asks Toshiro if he’s sure he’d like to dodge that ( it’s a little late for that ) and says that Momo’ll die if he does. SHINSO SCRAPING ALONG AGAINST HYOURINMARU STRANGELY MAKES NOT A SINGLE SOUND. Mute. Even though before they had no problem animating and adding sounds to them smacking blades earlier. There are soundless sparks though, so there’s that. Yay. Can you tell how exhausted this’s made me? I need a nap.

Shinso is already more than halfway towards Momo, still unconscious, she most definitely has a serious concussion via Toshiro backhanding her midair consider she’s been unconscious for longer than ten minutes. Toshiro has time to get up off the floor where he dropped to dodge, realize with a shocked gasp, turn, shout her name, and watch as Rangiku arrives in a random glow of gold which never happens ever again and blocks the attack with Haineko. Haineko almost cracks on the impact, and continues growing in damage as Rangiku holds Shinso there, implying that she’s stopped it from reaching one-hundred sword’s lengths to pierce Momo. Yes I’m including that implication / note in here because we love to see Rangiku succeeding in life and being Not-Helpless, all while potentially damaging Haineko severely if it wasn’t able to hold him off. Yikes, Gin!

Rangiku threatens to join the fight if he doesn’t withdraw his sword. Gin smiles, withdraws it, and then Shunpos away.

Whatta mess. Oh, and the anime fight was pretty fucked up, too.

This is a long post, but here’s the manga version:

Toshiro leaps into the air,

This is where the fight actually starts between them:

And end.

Five pages. Two blows. Does not equate to ten minutes of non-stop fighting and monologues. Sometimes, and I mean this in the most unbiased way possible, less is more.

#[ out of character ] masquerade; hide your face #me: i wanna reply to things!!#also me with eyes glowing red: no.#long post #LOOOONG POSTTTTT...#4 pages.#of text.#im so sorry.

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thanksjro · 4 years

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Dark Cybertron Chapter 1: Welcome to Comic Event Hell

You know what readers love? When the stories they’ve gotten invested in over the course of a couple years get interrupted for some pseudo-crossover bullshit.

And you know what writers love? When the story they’ve been crafting over the course of a couple years get interrupted for some pseudo-crossover bullshit.

Did I say love?

Because I didn’t mean it.

“Dark Cybertron” was penned by John Barber and James Roberts, with collaboration with comic writer and artist Phil Jimenez, and was published from early November, 2013 to late March, 2014. Atilio Rojo, James Raiz, and Livio Ramondelli did the art, each responsible for scenes in specific locations, with Robert Gill filling in as needed. Alex Milne, Andrew Griffith, and Brendan Cahill would also contribute pencils to the first issue and the back half of the series. It was a celebration of the 30th anniversary of the franchise, and the second birthday of Phase Two... which went on for over four months, but never mind that!

Both "Dark Cybertron” and its preliminary materials were made to go alongside the Transformers: Generations toy-line, each issue being included as a toy pack-in with whatever character was being featured… or, at least, that was the plan. Sometimes it didn’t work out. Regardless, this storyline was created to sell toys directly, as opposed to the MTMTE/RID series being made to sell toys more through the power of suggestion. It’s a small distinction, but important, because it will help explain any lack of soul one may perceive while they read “Dark Cybertron”.

“But Hannz!” you cry out, reaching to grab me by the throat and shake me like a rag doll, because to you I’m merely a faceless voice on the internet. “Surely by calling this specific storyline soulless, you’re completely ignoring the very nature of this franchise that you’re almost uncomfortably invested in!”

To which I’ll say this: look, I’m pretty realistic about where my giant space robots came from; Transformers as a franchise would not exist the way it does without Ronald Reagan introducing the Free Market to literal children and fucking up how we interact with media for the rest of time. There is no ethical consumption under capitalism, and that rings especially true when I’ve got a Spinister on my bookshelf staring me down as I write this, that was likely made out of plastics which either involved blood oil or unethical labor practices, if not both.

However!

The choices of a company to have their comic license holders to cook up an entire plot that derails what they’ve already got planned out for toy tie-in comics is a completely different animal than what IDW had had going on up to this point. Phase Two had been about exploring different ideas that hadn’t been able to be explored during the war, and seeing what happens when you take away a third of the logline for Transformers G1 as a whole. Being a part of a brand of toys was almost inconsequential to how the stories were being told; even the Spotlights, which were also toy tie-in comics, had plenty of charm to them, if only because there weren’t quite as many constraints placed on the writers, and they were stand-alone issues.

Of course, being tie-in comics isn’t the only reason that “Dark Cybertron” is a bit of a slog, considering everything IDW itself was trying to get done within this storyline, but we’ll cover the publishing company’s/Simon Furman’s/Transformers’ tumultuous relationship with the concept of gender identity and expression later on, when it becomes relevant to the story proper. This point also ties into the interesting origin of Windblade, who we’ll meet in a few issues, and what happens when you let your fanbase have a taste of power and forget that people might like to see themselves represented in the media they consume.

“Dark Cybertron” is what ended up making me stop reading MTMTE the first time I tried it in 2015. A big part of it was because it forced the reader to need so much information from RID and even events prior to Phase Two, it wasn’t very fun to try to parse what was going on, on top of the writing beginning to flag because of obvious constraints to what Barber and Roberts could actually do, both within their deadlines and the rules put in place by their higher ups for the event.

“Dark Cybertron” is the result of the sort of executive meddling that kills reader enjoyment by requiring writers to cram their two worlds together as quickly as possible, without the option to go for nuance because there simply isn’t time. The reason we have four separate artists for the front half of this story is because Milne and Griffith didn’t have time to draw both their current workload and “Dark Cybertron” at the same time... but sales probably went up due to the nature of how the story was published, so I’m sure they didn’t really see a problem with it.

That’s a general “they”, not a Milne and Griffith “they”.

In short, we’ve got license contract obligations, fan-poll obligations, and gender stuff fighting for space within the next 12 issues, which will be published in the span of roughly four months. Things are probably going to be a little bloated and sloppy.

Regardless of any of these points, this is what we’ve got. It’s not like it’s all bad- “Dark Cybertron” has the benefit of being written by two people who had been working closely before it had even been conceptualized. Barber was the senior editor for MTMTE, and IDW as a whole until he left in 2016. It also isn’t a proper crossover- y’know, where two completely separate titles get mashed together for a bit. MTMTE and RID exist in the same universe, just have their own things going on, so a decent amount of things still carry over without you needing to have read every single thing in both. The writing, while not quite up to par with pieces that had more creative freedom and breathing room between scenes, is still recognizable as being Barber and Roberts’. Their voices are still here, they’re just strained under the weight of everything that has to be said inside of 12 issues.

With all THAT out of the way, let’s dive in to Dark Dawn: Dark Cybertron Chapter 1.

We get a quick rundown of the most basic information you’ll need for this entire story to make sense, as we reintroduce the fact that Shockwave is an ecoterrorist with more agendas than a daily planner factory on meth, and also that he grows magic crystals. I don’t care what he says, the Ores are fucking space-magic. If you don’t want to read through all of RID for everything else, please see Robots in Disguise (2012), #1-22- A Recap, For Reference Purposes. We also get a quick rundown of the Lost Lighters’ deal, as Swerve potentially has a meta-episode.

Be careful what you fucking wish for, bucko.

Our story proper starts with a flashback to the shittiest road trip Cyclonus ever went on, as the Ark 1 finds itself at the edge of a mysterious portal. This is likely why he wasn’t super thrilled when the portal to Luna 1 showed up- portals are probably a touchy subject for him.

Jhiaxus doesn’t know what this portal is- surely this means that science has failed us, and it’s time to call in the religious crowd to try and suss out what’s going on here.

It’s moments like this that make me wonder what exactly happened in the Dead Universe that made Cyclonus’ cheek meat just pack up and leave.

Now, we know that Cyclonus is correct here, because we as readers have more knowledge than the characters at this point, but Jhiaxus tries to write off this theory as hogwash, because he is a man of rationality and science. This is a slight removal from his character in the present, whose most notable traits seem to be a lack of ethics and screaming.

Everyone here seems to be slightly different from their current iterations, actually; Galvatron doesn’t say a word as he steps between Jhiaxus and Cyclonus, only using his body to communicate that the scientist might want to back off. Cyclonus himself is certainly the wordiest we’ve ever seen him to be, droning on through his actual thought process before he comes to a conclusion on what exactly they’ve found. Compare this to the Cyclonus of today, who only deigns to grace everyone with his voice if they outright threaten him, have something he wants, or are Tailgate. If he were to ever pull this verbal meandering on board the Lost Light, people would probably assume he’s having a stroke.

Nova Prime- you remember him, don’t you?- gives not a fuck about the Dead Universe, only what it means for him personally. And what it means for him is more locations to subjugate, because he is cartoonishly evil. His character is the least removed from his present-day iteration out of everyone. He tells the crew they’ll be getting a little closer, only for the portal to do the work for them, by way of dark energy tentacles.

Wow, the pilot for the Ark 1 really is just straight-up named Butt, isn’t he? And what the fuck is that face you’re making, Cyclonus? Are you- oh my god, are you emoting? Oh my god, he’s emoting.

As the Ark 1 is pulled to its doom, Jhiaxus makes a quick phone call to Shockwave to tell him he’s his favorite, and to keep up the good work.

In the present, Shockwave reflects on just how friggin’ long this whole ordeal has taken. Fortunately, Waspinator and the Titan are almost here, and he can hardly wait.

Not, uh, that he’s got emotions or anything. It’s been established that he doesn’t have those anymore. Is impatience an emotion? Does that count?

Shockwave seems like he’d be really frustrating to write for.

Anyway, the Titan shows up, the Ore inside him and the Ore in the underground Crystal City combine, and the Titan starts screaming because everything hurts. Shockwave’s about as thrilled as he can be about the situation, given his lack of emotions.

Above Crystal City, we finally get back to that nonsense about the early sunrise, as someone- maybe Starscream, given the color of the narration box- waxes poetic on the planet of Cybertron, wartorn and wild in its rebirth, ruled by paranoia that has nothing to bounce off of, and so creates its own walls.

Then we get a detailed shot of Rattrap’s mug, and the moment is broken.

Rattrap’s character is a lot of fun in everything he gets tossed into, but you’re a goddamn liar if you think he’s pretty to look at. You are lying to yourself, and I won’t apologize for saying it.

Starscream walks out of his room in his hot new body, feeling fine and ready to take on the world. We’ll check in on him later in the day to see how that positive mentality is working out for him.

So, the sun hasn’t moved, and it’s way too early for the sun to even be up right now. That’s weird. Because I guess he didn’t know how the sun works, Starscream’s only just realized that this is perhaps a problem. He does some computer work and realizes that this is indeed a very bad thing, and asks that Rattrap call the Autobots. Not the ones who fucked off into the wilderness, the other ones. The gay, space ones.

Up in space, Orion Pax and his pals have found themselves in dire straits, the collapsing Gorlam Prime sucking their ship back down as the Death Ore consumes everything.

That’s not how engines work! And I think it really says something about the “Prelude” issues that I completely forgot why Wheelie was down an arm for a solid five seconds.

It turns out that Orion was the narrator the entire time, which I should have known- since when is the once and future Optimus Prime not the primary voice in any media he appears in?

It’s looking rough for the fellas, but luckily we’ve got to get the plot rolling, so the Lost Light VZZZZTs into existence and picks up the Skyroller to place it gently into its belly.

Orion isn’t exactly jazzed about the fact that Rodimus didn’t listen to what he told him, not even bothering to thank the guy for saving his life. I say y’all keep going on your Thunderclash Quest and leave this ungrateful loser behind. No space yachting for you, Orion.

The rest of the Pax Posse enter the Lost Light proper, and Hardhead reveals that he nearly joined the Quest, before he saw who all would be coming with, while Garnak has a tearful reunion with Rodimus. The fact that he’s calling him Sir- which I don’t recall him doing in Transformers (2009), at least not in a way that seems reminiscent of an unfortunate Antebellum Period Romance- feels rather weird, but I’m glad someone’s fucking happy to see Rodimus at least. Ultra Magnus asks Orion if he’ll be assuming command of the vessel, as Rodimus tries not to look horrified by the thought alone, but fortunately Orion’s not going to pull his “I’m Optimus Prime and I Can Do What I Want” Card just yet.

Smash cut to the bridge, as Rodimus tries to make himself sound competent, when Starscream calls. Orion doesn’t like that Starscream has their number, Perceptor almost reveals the fact that this ship technically doesn’t belong to a faction, likely due to being purchased after the war, and Cyclonus gets brought in for his professional opinion.

As it turns out, that early sunrise isn’t a sunrise at all, but a portal to the Dead Universe. This is a problem, because the Dead Universe really sucks, and you don’t want to go there, especially if you enjoy being alive. Orion seems more concerned about the fact that Starscream is ruling the planet, and Bumblebee is nowhere to be found.

Speaking of Bumblebee, he and all his camp buddies are psyching themselves up for a confrontation.

Swoop, please, this is hardly the time for crudeness.

The Dinobots, sick of Bumblebee’s dithering about, decide they’re going to fight the fucking sun and gear up. Prowl, though generally disliking their brand of problem-solving, does share his begrudging respect of their can-do attitude.

Their can-do attitude over fighting the fucking sun.

Then an earthquake happens and the ground rips open to reveal that Titan that Waspinator showed up with.

Shockwave takes over the narration at this point, and we get artsy, as we see events that haven’t transpired yet over musings on the nature of... time? Maybe? It would be in line with Roberts’ go-to topics, but honestly the whole thing’s kind of vague so I couldn’t give you a solid answer. Shockwave gets awfully introspective for a guy who shouldn’t care, I know that much. The point is, he is inevitable and is super good at logic and science.

Also, Nova Prime and Galvatron are back, which is cool, I guess. Not sure where Galvatron had gotten to exactly after the events of “Chaos”, but he’s back now, so it doesn’t matter too terribly much. Shockwave serves them, which we’ll probably get an explanation for at some point.

God, you can practically taste the desperation to pin all these plot points together before the entire thing implodes on itself.

#transformers #jro #dark cybertron #issue 1 #maccadam #Hannzreads #overthinking about robots #incoming analysis #text post #long post #comic script writing

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anarchist-soupkitchen · 3 years

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ooop its a really long essay

A brief list of why the Tories is pretty rubbish

Before we start, I have a few things to say. As this is intended for UK audiences it might be a little difficult for people outside of the UK to understand the wording of certain topics, I will include somethings that need more explanation up here but if I do not include it here, please feel free to ask down in the comments.

Tory: someone who is a part of the conservative right

Anglicanism: the English church’s version of Christianity

This essay is a PERSUASIVE ESSAY this means its BIASED I hope you could tell from the title. This essay is from the view of someone who is white I am not trying to speak over people of colour on issue like race and I encourage you to look at non-white creators within the UK to get views on this matter.

I am pretty armature when it comes to my writing so do not expect something ground-breaking. And with that out of the way, let us begin.

1. The tory party we know today was founded in 1834, you would think that would be plenty of time for its members to grow and shape the party into the best organization it can be. But with the tory party still stuck on the same ideas that Anglicanism is the only true religion, and that queer people should not have rights you would think that the party is straight out of the early 20th century, or still stuck on the same ideas the party was founded upon. It does not matter what side you are on and how your choice to view the tory party, people can agree on the prominent figures inside the tory party from old to recent. An example of a prominent tory of old was Winston Churchill a well know racist who also, coincidentally got us through WW2 when he was appointed by Chamberlin. He fostered such views that white people should govern over the “primitive” black and indigenous people of Africa and that Indian people “bred like rabbits”. To anyone who knows their UK history, 1983 was a very eventually year for politics and the UK as a whole. You now have to wear seatbelts in the front seats of cars, the dismembered victims of serial killer Dennis Nielsen are found in his London flat, unemployment was on a record heigh since the 1930’s and a general election found that Margaret Thacher was to be the next prime minister after a landslide win in the polls. Over the course of her 11-year reign of terror she periodised free-market capitalism and privatised public sectors including transport, railways and mines. Then because she did not like the Scottish government, she through a hissy fit and closed all mines in Scotland. Just like that she fucked up the economy, where in the big mining areas of the past are still experiencing the aftershocks today. I remember my granny telling me how she made up food packages for the miners around town and how it was so devastating to the town’s economy. Everyone was unemployed and starving, even my grandad. These examples really show that the Tories will support people who are the worst in British society if they have the parties’ interests at heart. You would think the tory party cannot get any worse but with modern polices such as pledging to get 50,000 nurses for the NHS while only giving them a 1% pay rise, which is only £7.78 for a low band nurse, by 2023. Or being “tough on crime” even though 96.4 crime were recorded by every 1000 people in 2019. You can see how tough they are about carrying out their polices. Let me tell you my favourite of the lot, Boris Johnston, our current PM, wants to limit immigration by 100,000 people. They want to only let in “the brightest and the best,” what a load of shite. Our immigrants are the backbone of our society doing everything people like the Tories would not even dream of doing. Imagen seeing Boris working in a McDonalds or in your local call centre. That fucker probably has not worked a day in his life. According to the migration observatory, migrants make up 50% of the low pay workforce. Either way you look at it, its abysmal. The government should do more for these people that letting them rot in a McDonalds or in a low paying job. If you have taken time to be a model citizen, train and get your qualifications, possibly learn a new langue to mover over to a shitty wet rock I do not see any problem with the government providing necessities to get you started in your new life. We have got the money.

2. Can I ask you, what side do you think Boris Johnson is on? I will let you think for a moment. The Working class makes up more than half of our population according to the BBC’s class calculator. They say that a government is reflective of the people’s views and I think that is bullshit. Out of the working-class eligible to vote, who do vote, only three in ten vote conservatives. Do you want to know why people in the working class do not vote tory? Because under tory leadership since 2010, 6000,000 more children and their families were forced into poverty. The need for foodbanks skyrocketed 12.3% in the last five years and that is no even accounting for the pandemic. It is clear by now; I have given you enough time to think. “we know whose side Boris Johnson is on- the billionaires, the bankers and the big business.”- labour shadow chancellor, John McDonell. We know the conservatives are very busy committing acts of voter suppression and giving money to their friends instead of caring about you. They are buzzy introducing laws that make it mandatory to have voter ID in order to vote. If you do not make it free people will stop coming. The electoral commissions think 3.5 million voters just will not come back. this is all a part of, “takle[ing] every aspect of electoral fraud”- tory manifesto. It is well known that many rich people have been investing in the party for quite a while. Here is just a few: Anthony Bamford head of machinery in JCB, he gave £12.1 million since 2005. Charles Cayzer owns a shipping tycoon, he gave £480,00. Did you also know, Boris is known to be very generous when it comes to giving back. You’ve probably herd in the news about the conservatives handing out £3mil in contracts to tory owned covid PPE companies over the course of the pandemic. Some of that went to a MP, Nadim Zahawi who is a shareholder in SThree. SThree was given £1mil in contracts over the course of the pandemic. With all the evidence I have given above you’d think the government its rolling in it, I suspect they are but I doesn’t look like it from the outside. They have cut funding to courses drastically, as well as benefit schemes. Like cutting access for eighteen- to twenty-year-olds to the housing benefits. Yet with all the money they been cutting away from services and councils who desperately need it they still have enough money to cough up a commission for a royal yacht named after the duke of Edinburgh, costing over £200 million. Seems sweet does it, name a yacht after the ghoul of Edinburgh, right? You probably know the just of it now, your wrong. Not only is the yacht being paid for by taxpayers, but they are also naming it in honour after a racist. Or how the BBC would phrase his words as “memorable one-liners”. Here is a selection I find quite fitting: “The Philippines must be half empty if you’re all here running the NHS”- while meeting with a Filipino nurse. “If you stay here much longer, you’ll be all slitty-eyed”- he said to a group of British students while on a royal visit to China. My favourite must be “It looks like it was put in by an Indian.”- referring to and old-fashioned fuse box in Edinburgh. He is supposed to be the duke of the bloody place! I really like how one article what I read put it “[Prince Philip] screams out loud what other racists like him have learned how to conceal and camouflage in what they think and project as civilised demeanour.”- Hamid Dabashi.

3. What I find absolutely astounding, is the Tories inability to show compassion to the people who have nothing. If you did not know the vagrancy act among other things crimeless the homeless and rough sleepers, which is by far a very bad mixture with the recent homelessness statistics, homelessness has risen 28% since labour was last in office and if the Tories continue down the path they are now, it is only going to keep rising. What you would find is most shocking is that there’s solutions for the homeless crisis right in front of us, what the Tories must to not be able to see. Layla Moran of the liberal democrats thinks they “must take a more compassionate and holistic approach, starting by scrapping the vagrancy act”. I think that would be a step forward and away from the old ways of prosecuting people for not being as fortunate as the rest of us, but there is something even more simple than that. Repossessing the 200,000 buildings that have been vacant in the UK for more than six months. Not only would that put a sizeable dent in the houses we need, but it also saves space. The UK is small collection of islands and I do not think the Tories can see that. We do not have the land available to just start building everywhere while leaving all those homes empty and unfilled. Its not a way to solve the housing crisis and its certainly not a way to save the money we supposedly need. Even the homes the Tories are building are left dormant because they are too expensive for the area, they are located in. With the way things are going the Tories will have to build more houses than they ever built before, because by 2041 homelessness is expected to doble. That is 400,000 more households if things do not change -a study by heriot-wat university. The evidence suggests that whatever the Tories are doing to end homelessness it is not working. Everything is not as bleak as I just told you though, the conservative has ended homelessness before. In the hight of the pandemic the conservatives got 90% of all rough sleepers off the streets and put them in hotels or hostels. This helped people apply for benefits, find jobs and get some more permanent assistance. People was helped during the pandemic, but when the funding ran out last July, homeless and the rough sleepers in the hotels and hostels where back out in the streets again. Alone and forgotten by the government that promised to end the very crisis they are apart of years ago. Theis shows that the Tories have the money to help the unfortune but they would rather sit on their arses chatting about what colour they should paint the walls of their house. More recently the Torie introduced a law what will fine people for sleeping in doorways. It really shows what the Tories care about, getting linings for their pockets. The Tories have the money to stop homelessness and when it was a danger to them, they stopped the issue what has been so recuing in our politics for decades. They helped the people who so desperately needed it only to chuck them back into the cold when covid-19 was no longer a danger to them.

4. The conservatives fail to keep minorities safe in the society that they created. It is not surprise that the Tories are the most incompetent as ever. A study by BBC radio 5 found that hate crimes have doubled since 2013. An optimist would assume that is great, that there must mean that people have been reporting it more, right? Partly so. Although we have seen a rise in reports of hate crimes, the rate of prosecution has dropped down from 20% to just 8%. And that is just the tip of the iceberg, in a survey of faith-based organizations; the home office found that seven in ten of the employees surveyed has never reported a hate crime to the police where one happened. For a country where we are supposed to be the most tolerable it is no surprise that a big portion of the hate crimes committed are ones where the religion the victim followed played a big part. Our population, like many others, is influenced by our politicians. After Boris described Muslim women in burkas as “letterboxes” in an interview; citizen UK found that there where a surge in hate crime directed to Muslim women where the word “letterbox” was used. Again, continuing with the theme of hate crime against religions, Muslims made up half of the statistics in 2018 – 2019. The biggest spike we have seen in the last few years has been to Jewish people, where hate crimes against them have more since doubled. It is not a surprise since people seem to relate being a ‘good’ Jew to being a Zionist. Other minorities like trans youth under sixteen in England and whales now must go through everything that goes with puberty on top of not wanting to have the body you cuntly have all because TERF’s and conservatives do not think puberty blockers should be available to them. At this point I genuinely think they want trans kids dead, how could you not see that the benefits of puberty blockers far out way the potential consequences. If puberty blockers really where the target they would have taken them of the shelfs completely, but they did not do that did they? They just restricted the rights of an already marginalised group more. Its not just trans kids but the fight for a third gender to finally get recognised is still waging on despite it being a battle since 2018. The government petition has been signed 136,000 times demanding non-binary finally be recognised as a valid gender in the eyes of the law. I hope I can get recognised as well as everyone else. It may not seem a big deal to some of you reading this but it is to thousands. Especially the people who want to go on hormones and medically transition. Because right now I and many other people are restricted and not allowed to get that service. If you are in the UK and you are of age, I urge you to signs the government petition. In other news the conservatives are just now getting to outlawing conversion therapy three years after they announced they would do so. It just shows how the party is not on target. On the topic of not on target let us talk about the increasing number of racial minorities becoming homeless because of lack of funding to their communities. Since the conservatives got into power in the 2010 racial minorities now make up 40% of all homeless despite being only 15% of the current population. It really shows how much they care about anyone who is not white. Yet people like my gran will continue to say they are doing enough for these underfunded communities.

the tory party really has nothing going for them, they are certainly not for the working class, they cannot solve homelessness and they do not give two fucks about minorities. To think anyone would vote form them is just amazing. Its fucking stupid to believe that they are anything but a bunch of rich shites dawdling around and thinking up ways to get more money into their pockets. To end this really all over the place essay, if you vote tory you are a massive twat.

Sources in comments:

#essay #uk #uk politics #uk politics essay #persuasive essay #tory government #tory #left wing politics #conservatism #conservtive #if any reads this well done #im sorry #its long #heehee hastags go burrr

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rkplaced · 4 years

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THE MOST POPULAR GIRLS IN SCHOOL SENTENCE STARTERS.

rp starters, taken from mpgis season one. feel free to change pronouns or other words !

the new girl. ❝ i am ... so ... pretty. ❞ ❝ um, excuse me ? ❞ ❝ who the fuck are you ? ❞ ❝ i asked you first. ❞ ❝ i asked you second ! ❞ ❝ i’m ______. i’m new. ❞ ❝ who the fuck let you in here ? ❞ ❝ so. ______. let me tell you how things work here. ❞ ❝ i already know how things work around here ! ❞ ❝ this is me telling you that you need to learn your place. ❞ ❝ i already know all those things ! ❞ ❝ you’re not from around here, are you, ______ ? ❞ ❝ okay, _____. just ... what the fuck do you want ? ❞ ❝ fine. but know this: i do not like you. ❞ ❝ i feel indifferent towards you. ❞

french class. ❝ you know what, ______ ? i respect you. ❞ ❝ stop trying to change the subject, ______ ! ❞ ❝ in exchange for that, you have to watch a whole episode of glee with me. ❞ ❝ what ? that’s not even a fair trade, you like gossip girl ! ❞ ❝ that’s not true ! ❞ ❝ I LOVE GOSSIP GIRL SOOO MUCH ! ❞ ❝ SHUT THE FUCK UP, ______ ! ❞ ❝ hey, um, gossip girl is a good show ! ❞ ❝ you are not my boyfriend anymore. ❞ ❝ god, i wanna fucking murder you. ❞ ❝ hey, ______, do you wanna go out on a date ? ❞ ❝ it’s a fucking french word, you little bitch ! ❞ ❝ ______ just broke up with me. ❞ ❝ my people know very much about suffering. ❞ ❝ when i get through with that piece of shit, he’s gonna wish his parents went through with that move to st. louis ! ❞

sister act. ❝ what the fuck do you want, ______ ? ❞ ❝ i heard that you’re going around calling me a fucking liar ! ❞ ❝ where did you hear that ? ❞ ❝ i said where, not when, you idiot ! ❞ ❝ suck it ! ❞ ❝ it’s so good to see you ! ❞ ❝ oh, no. no. we are not doing this again. ❞ ❝ seriously, who the fuck is watching the door ? ❞ ❝ how do you know about that ? ❞ ❝ it smells terrible in here. ❞ ❝ anyway, i want an apology. ❞ ❝ you are a fucking liar ! ❞ ❝ i didn’t believe that for a goddamn second ! ❞ ❝ fuck you. ❞ ❝ wait, what’s going on ? ❞

the most popular boys in school. ❝ god damn it, ______, who let you in here ? ❞ ❝ i ... i thought you were gonna say ❛ what are you looking at, ❜ & then i was gonna say ❛ not much. ❜ ❞ ❝ no, ______. ❞ ❝ the fuck kind of name is ______ ? ❞ ❝ i don’t play by your rules, man ! ❞ ❝ suck my dick ! ❞ ❝ i guess we see who the real man is here, don’t we ? ❞ ❝ i’m a real man ! i’m not afraid ! ❞ ❝ i’m not saying anything. i’m ... i’m just saying. ❞ ❝ i’m going to shower. ❞ ❝ why don’t we take a poll ? i vote no. ❞ ❝ i vote no, too. ❞ ❝ fuck no ! ❞ ❝ i always believe in giving people the benefit of the doubt. ❞ ❝ you ask this every week ! ❞

$57 lunch. ❝ i am going to reiterate a point that i make to you twice a week. ❞ ❝ yes, i suppose that will suffice. ❞ ❝ i like your top. ❞ ❝ um, ______, you haven’t paid yet. ❞ ❝ oh, don’t worry, i’ll take care of it. ❞ ❝ what the fuck was that ? ❞ ❝ oh, jesus christ, is that a fucking gremlin ? ❞ ❝ whatever, just ... no one feed that fucking thing after midnight. ❞ ❝ this is an emergency ! ❞ ❝ i told you never to talk about that ! god ! ❞ ❝ i will cut a bitch. ❞ ❝ is this gonna go on much longer ? ❞ ❝ i’m in. ❞ ❝ can i go eat now ? ❞ ❝ there’s nobody here. ❞

the letter zero. ❝ why don’t you give me a fucking break, okay ? ❞ ❝ can i help you ? ❞ ❝ what the fuck is that supposed to mean ? ❞ ❝ i don’t give a fuck ! ❞ ❝ oh my god, thank god you’re here ! ❞ ❝ not right now, ______. ❞ ❝ yeah, you cursed me out in the bathroom earlier today. ❞ ❝ i thought we had a connection. ❞ ❝ anyway, ______, i’m glad i ran into you here ! ❞ ❝ ... oh. that makes a little more sense. ❞ ❝ what the fuck is going on ? ❞ ❝ why was i not consulted about this ? ❞ ❝ we have new vending machines on campus, they take credit cards now. ❞ ❝ fuck no, you guys are assholes ! ❞ ❝ congratulations ! ❞

the least popular girls in school. ❝ oh, ______, our plan is coming together, like ... so good. ❞ ❝ it’s so diabolical, there’s so many twists & turns ! ❞ ❝ it’s like we’re the two new characters on gossip girl ! ❞ ❝ but we are more beautiful ! ❞ ❝ teen wolf is starting. ❞ ❝ i’m recording it on the dvr so i can fast forward through commercials ! ❞ ❝ well, i know, okay ? ❞ ❝ oh, uh ... hey, ______ ... how’s it going ? ❞ ❝ i guess ... better than you. ❞ ❝ well, if we ever have a special on meat salad, i’ll let you know. ❞ ❝ don’t erase my dvr ! ❞ ❝ bye, ______ ! ❞ ❝ yeah, that’s right ! walk away ! like a bitch. ❞ ❝ what the fuck did you say ? ❞ ❝ oh, no, nothing, i just said ... i just ... ❞

3rd grade. ❝ oh my god, ______, are you okay ? ❞ ❝ you’re fucking kidding, right ? ❞ ❝ it’s about time people start feeling sorry for me. ❞ ❝ i feel terrible about this. ❞ ❝ ______, looks like we’re playing pokémon cards again. ❞ ❝ this is some bullshit right here. ❞ ❝ you are nothing, ______. ❞ ❝ hand it over. ❞ ❝ oh, son of a bitch, bastard, oh my god ! why me ? why now ? does god hate me ? oh, jesus christ ! ❞ ❝ what the fuck is wrong with you ? ❞ ❝ fucking stand on the other side of me ! ❞ ❝ don’t worry ! i’m sure everything will work itself out just fine. ❞ ❝ i didn’t hear a fucking thing ! ❞ ❝ it’s worse than we thought. ❞ ❝ cool ... well, i don’t wanna be rude, but that story was very long, & much more involved than i originally thought it would be. ❞

pre pep rally energy drinks. ❝ why would god do this to me ? ❞ ❝ how the fuck did this happen ? ❞ ❝ you know, ______, you really shouldn’t do that ... ❞ ❝ are you sure you’re not a gremlin ? ❞ ❝ oh my god, ______, they got you, too ? ❞ ❝ the fuck are you talking about ? ❞ ❝ oh, yeah, i already knew about that. ❞ ❝ i mean ... i already did not knew about that. ❞ ❝ i swear, i’d rip your fucking head off ! ❞ ❝ see ? i told you. ❞ ❝ can we take these now ? ❞ ❝ god damn it, fine ! ❞ ❝ by a nap, do you mean an ambien & a box of wine ? ❞ ❝ that doesn’t fucking matter ! ❞ ❝ oh, we should totally fuck up their credit, too. & then we all unfriend them on facebook. ❞

gay van buren. ❝ i was just trying to put myself into a coma�� so i wouldn’t have to listen to you dipshits trying to talk & breathe at the same time. ❞ ❝ where the fuck have you been ? ❞ ❝ i’m telling you, i don’t trust that bitch ! ❞ ❝ um ... ______, you don’t trust anybody. ❞ ❝ i could totally go for a swim right now. ❞ ❝ god, your hair is, like, super thick. ❞ ❝ what the fuck do you think you’re trying to pull here, ______ ? ❞ ❝ i think you really are a good friend, & you totally deserve it. ❞ ❝ yeah, ______, thank you. thank you for fucking up my entire life ! ❞ ❝ do you hate me, ______ ? ❞ ❝ my life is over ! ❞ ❝ are you nuts ? do you know what this means ? ❞ ❝ maybe it’s not so bad. maybe no one noticed. ❞ ❝ that’s not my name ! ❞ ❝ welcome to my world. ❞

deandra’s arms. ❝ oh my god. i’m this close. this fucking close. ❞ ❝ what the fuck did you just say ? ❞ ❝ so, um, do you usually just stand here & watch while all this goes on ? ❞ ❝ go fuck yourself. ❞ ❝ hey, i like your dress. ❞ ❝ oh, i’m definitely gonna check that place out. ❞ ❝ do you know who the fuck i am ? ❞ ❝ ______, you’re a member of this family ! ❞ ❝ this is starting to hurt ... ❞ ❝ ______, you were supposed to be watching the door. ❞ ❝ do you know what these are, ______ ? ❞ ❝ do you not know what has transpired while you were in pearl harbor ? we had our own pearl harbor here today. ❞ ❝ live with that ! ❞ ❝ ______, was that part of the plan ? ❞ ❝ nothing like this has ever happened on gossip girl. ❞

prom, part one. ❝ ahem. ______, tonight, i consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth. ❞ ❝ did you just steal lou gehrig’s retirement speech ? ❞ ❝ hey, i’m real. what you get is what you see. what you trying to do to me ? ❞ ❝ those are the lyrics to an old jennifer lopez song. ❞ ❝ a compromise was reached. ❞ ❝ time to go in there. ❞ ❝ why are you wearing a tuxedo ? ❞ ❝ do you like my dress ? ❞ ❝ you look like a tampon that was dipped in skittles & vomit. ❞ ❝ don’t mind if i do. ❞ ❝ there’s nothing between us. ❞ ❝ you take that back, bitch ! ❞ ❝ haha, fuck you, too, there, buddy ! ❞ ❝ things are fucking awesome for me. ❞ ❝ see you up there, dumb whores. ❞

prom, part two. ❝ it’s so great to have you back. ❞ ❝ it’s so great to be back. ❞ ❝ don’t you ever fucking cut me off again, do you understand me ? ❞ ❝ i’m gonna be honest, i don’t see what the big deal is. ❞ ❝ i don’t really give two shits. ❞ ❝ mostly because she’s a bitch, & because she’s a bitch. ❞ ❝ this isn’t over. ❞ ❝ i have been waiting all night ! ❞ ❝ this can’t be right. can someone look at this for me ? ❞ ❝ you cannot be serious. ❝ hit the bricks, bitch. ❞ ❝ don’t worry, baby. ❞ ❝ ______, aren’t you gay ? ❞ ❝ wait, does this mean we’re friends now ? ❞ ❝ oh, no, i still fucking hate you. ❞

#sentence starters #rp sentence starters #rp starters #rp meme #ask meme #🖋️.*｡･ﾟ meme → ᴍᴇᴀɴs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴀɴ ᴇɴᴅ.

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makeste · 4 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 256: Fucking Superb You Funky Little Hero Eggs

Previously on BnHA: Aizawa and Mic’s frankensteined best friend Shirakumo, better known to us as Kurogiri, had his memories briefly restored through the Power of Friendship, and was all “YO Y’ALLS BETTER GO CHECK OUT THOSE HOSPITALS” before his head started steaming like a tea kettle and he randomly fell asleep. Aizawa and Mic were all “!!” and Aizawa was all “(ಡ ﹏ ಡ)” and Mic was all “Aizawa are you crying” and Aizawa was like “NO!!!” and then they left the prison and Nao called HPSC Lady who called Hawks and was all “eck-chay ethay ospitals-hay” because Hawks, as you recall, is still a secret agent and all that. Anyway so Hawks was all “EUREKA!!” in his head which doesn’t really add up but hey, and then the chapter ended with Dr. Ujiko dancing in sadistic glee as he watched Tomura get all mad scienced. It was pretty freaky. I could use some wholesomeness right about now so let’s see if this chapter will deliver.

Today on BnHA: Class 1-A shows off the fresh skills they learned during their assorted internships, such as “determination”, “enhanced search techniques”, and “becoming a literal blob of acid.” The Wonder Trio is a particular highlight, and All Might is all “my little baby off to destroy people :’)” as he watches Deku shred a robot to pieces using Blackwhip. We then cut to Aizawa and Mic, who may or may not be planning some rogue vigilante style investigations of the whole Noumu thing, or maybe they’re just brooding, but either way they’re interrupted by Mirio and Tamaki who come running in to get them to stop Eri’s quirk from going haywire, which, yikes. The chapter then ends with All Might handing Deku a notebook full of DETAILED, CATALOGED INFO ABOUT THE PAST SUCCESSORS AND THE FUCKING SIXQUIRKS. We just have to wait two more weeks to find out what that’s all about. 2020’s got some fucking zip to it so far huh.

so it’s about a quarter past 7 right now and it’ll be a miracle if I can have this recap up by 10pm tonight. surprisingly the wait for this chapter didn’t really bother me, but this Sunday/Monday release schedule is really doing a number on my punctuality. but anyways we’ll figure it out eventually. if memory serves, there’s about a 90% chance that this week’s jump will also be a double issue, so that gives me another extra week to get my shit together lol

(ETA: so that wasn’t too far off actually! I think a three-hour turnaround time isn’t bad for 3000 words lol. and actually it was more like two hours of reading/blogging and one hour of editing/photo cropping. anyway so in all likelihood either Sunday or Monday night releases will become the norm, depending entirely on how busy that particular Sunday is. not quite the same as getting the chapter on Friday and having the whole weekend to ruminate over it but we will adjust!)

anyway, so I’m somehow remarkably unspoiled for this chapter despite it having been out for nearly a week and a half at this point. so that’s something! let’s see what we’ve got here

yaaaay my babies

All Might was offering free cotton candy, yes? I didn’t expect we’d cut right back to this lol, but you sure won’t see me complaining. I want to see what everyone else learned during their internships, and also what with the break and the last couple chapters being Tartarus-focused, it’s been about a month since I last saw my little hero eggs, and of course I missed them I’m only human

omg

did the original dialogue really reference Skynet. Horikoshi truly gives no fucks about copyright. like one or two episodes ago the anime made some copyrighted reference which you could clearly hear in the Japanese but which the English subs hilariously glossed right over. I’m trying to remember what it was now. damn. anyways we millennials can never resist a good pop culture reference, facts

OH MY GOD AOYAMA

THEY’RE EATING THE COTTON CANDY

TOKOYAMI EATING COTTON CANDY IS THE GREATEST THING TO HAPPEN IN 2020 THUS FAR. LET ME TELL YOU, WE REALLY NEEDED THIS

SHOUTO EATING COTTON CANDY IS THE SECOND BEST THING TO HAPPEN IN 2020. IT WAS VERY CLOSE

I STALLED FOR TIME SO MUCH AND I STILL DON’T KNOW WTF TO SAY ABOUT AOYAMA’S NEW ATTACK OH MY GOD. JUST. I DON’T KNOW YOU GUYS. THIS BOY IS REALLY OUT HERE SLICING ROBOTS IN HALF WITH HIS BRAND NEW LASER PENIS. THE AMOUNT OF FUCKS THAT HORIKOSHI GIVES IS IN THE NEGATIVES I DON’T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO SAY

OH ARE YOU STILL GOING

is... what’s... ldkfj okay nothing to see here guys just the naked invisible chick getting all friendly with Aoyama’s beam boner. just manhandling his sparkle shaft. there are children reading this manga. I mean, they’re already mentally scarred from all the dead dogs and child quirk wine and whatnot, but still at what point do we put our goddamn foot down

anyway so somehow she’s redirecting his laser beam?? I guess with her light refracting quirk skills?? great job Hagakure with your help Aoyama can finally shoot lasers at stuff that’s behind him. you’ve mastered the power of making it so that he doesn’t have to turn around great job truly an internship well spent

“now I can yank light and warp it!” you go girl now you can whip that thing around like it’s a fucking fire hose I guess

YOOOOO MINA!!

THIS GIRL LITERALLY COATED HERSELF IN ACID AND DID A FUCKING BARREL ROLL AHHHHHHHHH. NOW THAT’S MORE LIKE IT, NO OFFENSE TO CAPTAIN DISCO DONG AND COMMODORE “I CAN DO EVERYTHING A MIRROR CAN DO” BUT THERE ARE UPGRADES AND THERE ARE UPGRADES, AND LET’S FACE IT, THIS IS THE REAL DEAL HERE

AHAHAHA I LOVE ITTTTT

is it too late for Mina to actually change her name to Acidman. what is she calling herself now again?? Pinky?? come on Mina strike some fear into the hearts of your enemies

and now All Might and the others are applauding. I don’t see Shouto’s cotton candy anymore. boy fucking inhaled that shit

oh wow, they interned under Yoroi Musha? if memory serves me, and I’m honestly not going to bother to check right now, isn’t that the samurai dude who somehow beat Ryuukyuu in the billboard charts? not that I’m still salty about that, oh wait I absolutely am but anyways

OH MY

IS THAT SOME KIRIMINA CONTENT UP IN MY PANELS. hot damn that is some cute fucking shit. Mina better not get any undue hate for this. everyone please remain calm this cute interaction does not threaten your ship in any way (unless you want it to in which case have at!!) and we can all have fun if we just play nice you guys

lmao All Might

“WE’RE ALREADY ON PAGE FOUR AND THERE ARE TWENTY OF YOU, WE DON’T HAVE ALL FUCKING DAY CHILDREN”

so Satou and Ojiro learned how to punch harder and stuff. again, it’s fine, we can’t all be Acid Men. but meanwhile they interned with some lion guy named Shishido whom I INSTANTLY LOVE so that’s badass. only one character away from Shishida though, but that’s Horikoshi for you

OH MY GOD

BLAH BLAH YES ENHANCED SEARCH TECHNIQUES ZZZZZ BUT FUCKING LOOK THOUGH AT THE FLASHBACK OF HIM YEETING THEM, YESSSSSS. THE OLD WAYS HAVE NOT YET BEEN FORGOTTEN, GANG ORCA YOU ARE THE HERO WE DESERVE

meanwhile Sero, Kami, and Mineta learned how to literally kill people with their quirks flkdjsflk

(ETA: btw I really love that Mt. Lady’s internship emphasized teamwork. now there’s someone who’s come a really long way her own self. anyway I stan and she had better join the other two in the the top 10 real soon. come on BnHA society get with it.)

damn Mt. Lady what the fuck. “if you guys work together you can suffocate and electrocute villains to death with ease!” the government’s plan really is working huh; these children have become bloodthirsty, ruthless killers in a shockingly short period of time

anyways so Iida as we all recall learned how to be more footloose and fancy free, and meanwhile Kouda learned “smooth communication” from Wash, the literal washing machine man whom I also don’t still harbor a grudge against for inexplicably beating my dragon queen in the hero polls, and once again that is a lie because fuck you Wash! you’re adorable but fuck you!!

man this is taking forever why are there so many kids in this class. for anyone wondering why Horikoshi doesn’t focus on class 1-A as a whole more often and leaves them as supporting characters, this right here is why. I love these children to death but we would still be stuck in the basement arc. oh my god I just shuddered

Tokoyami mastered “improvement on all fronts” because I guess he kind of peaked at flying when it came to new moves huh. that’s fine for now

and Kiri mastered “making baddies lose the will to fight real quick” which sounds like some bullshit you’d write while desperately trying to pad your hero resume, except that it’s accompanied by this convincing panel of him chomping a steel bar in two or some shit which YIKES

can confirm, if some demonic rock man came trotting up to me and snapped off some railing from some stairs and fucking snapped it like a twig with his GIANT FOSSILIZED DINOSAUR TEETH, I’d lose my will to fight pretty quickly too

and Ochako and Tsuyu learned “determination” smdh. Horikoshi did you fucking fall asleep towards the end of this segment or what

WHO IS MAJESTIC OMG

excuse me did she just create a bunch of fucking dynamites. is that what those are. is my girl encroaching on my young son’s turf. because if she is, ENCROACH, MOMO, ENCROACH! FEEL FREE TO FUCKING IMPINGE, EVEN!! god, and I know I was bitching just a moment ago about these “lessons” becoming increasingly vague and intangible and motivational poster-y, but I read Momo and “predicting and acting efficiently”, and my thoughts immediately ran to Nighteye and Mirio’s fighting styles, and I was like “YESSSSSSSSS” because, I mean. YES, though

meanwhile Kacchan has learned...

this fucking -- I swear -- YOU LEARNED WHAT YOUR FUCKING HERO NAME IS GOING TO BE YOU TROLLING PIECE OF SHIT. oh my god. Katsuki I swear to god I will take your internet privileges. NO SRIRACHA FOR A WEEK UNLESS YOU TELL ME WHAT IT IS

oh for fuck’s sakes

don’t mind him he learned boom with five b’s and three oo’s what did you all do this week. and somehow Todoroki learned how to be even more fabulous

so All Might’s looking on in pride and giving Endeavor some mental props, and waiting for Deku to go do his thing too

sdfkj he’s thinking about the day he gave Deku THE HAIR and that “[it] feels like ancient history now.” DOESN’T IT THOUGH?

OH MY FEELS

“you don’t look back at me anymore... and you don’t need to.” oh Aizawa’s dry eye has spread to me now huh. must be those January allergies. and that’s some nice bloop there kid. great jorb

someone tell All Might he’s not allowed to look on at Deku with this much fatherly love without giving me at least a week’s notice in advance

sigh. now you’ve done it you two I’m going to become a big cat blob of feels right here and it’s all on you. you did this

oh my god a whole big panel of reactions from the other kids and I’m ( ˊᵕˋ )

lol Kacchan can’t agree with anything even if it’s a compliment. and lmao, who the fuck was that who was all “TODOROKI FINALLY YOU’RE A FAST FUCKING HIMBO HUH!” like they really went and put that “finally” in there, like they were so fucking tired of Todoroki Shouto and his LANGUID FUCKING PACE all the fucking time, GOD, FINALLY SOME SPEED BOY WE WERE DYING OUT HERE

Mineta being happy for Deku also warms my heart, ngl. we’ve gone almost an entire chapter with Mineta not doing anything even remotely perverted, can it be, has Horikoshi finally chilled the fuck out. or did I just jinx it we shall see

also love how Deku is just reduced to an inkblot here and it still is him beyond any shadow of a doubt. and poor Sero, you are also being impinged on huh

lmao Mineta’s just socking Deku in the solar plexus out of comradery and Deku’s fucking vomiting on reflex and not even paying the slightest attention wtf

I love this panel there I said it

so he’s going over and thanking Ochako for “that time” and says he’s using Blackwhip a lot better now. I assume he’s referring to when he first unlocked it and went hog wild and she was all “smh” and went and hugged him to put an end to that nonsense

oh, right!!!!

I forgot about those!! looool Horikoshi’s 2020 resolution is to make everyone Spider-Man now huh. hey everyone guess what I LOVE THIS

oh my god this wholesomeness

I fucking can’t?? yo I’m seriously living for this? I don’t get why some people think Deku inhibits Ochako’s character growth tbh. or that her story is becoming all about him. if it is, then it’s in the same way that Bakugou’s is. Deku keeps inspiring her to be better, ain’t nothing wrong with that. yes she has the crush, and she’s honest with herself and in tune with her emotions enough to be aware of it and to acknowledge it, but she refuses to be distracted by it. I actually really like that, because it shows that romantic feelings can actually exist and not be the central focus of a character’s story or their development. and I think the fear is that it somehow will become the focus, but so far I haven’t seen that happening, so it seems unwarranted to me

anyway

shit’s cute

oh no Mineta’s doing something weird I fucking did jinx it I’m sorry guys. it’s a fucking fistbump dude relax

so All Might seems to be dismissing them now, and he’s saying something about how he reordered (?? rescheduled, maybe??) class so that Aizawa can watch later. that’s nice. he’ll need something to cheer him up, and if Acidman can’t do the trick I don’t know what can

and now we’re cutting back to the dorms!! dorm shenanigans yessssss

oh no shit wait

these are not playful dorm shenanigans these are depressed Miczawa shenanigans to bring me down. nnnn

but Aizawa fucking knows something is up now, shit. that’s right son your babies are in danger

KLJKLGLKSH

okay (1) HOW HOT IS AIZAWA THOUGH HOW DOES HE ALWAYS DO THIS

and (2) is “have a karaoke contest” code for “fuck shit up” or what. son of a bitch, having these two so personally invested in the Noumu arc now is such an unexpected and wonderful gift

MIRIO NO

(ETA: but you all know Aizawa was about to say “I’d go and fuck shit up” though.)

I LOVE YOU BOTH BUT THEY WERE HAVING A SEXY ANGSTING MOMENT, MIRIO CAN YOU NOT READ THE ROOM!! DO YOU NOT SEE THEM BEING ALL ANGSTY AND DARKLY CONTEMPLATIVE!! YOU TWO OF ALL PEOPLE SHOULD KNOW WHEN LOVERS ARE BONDING OVER THEIR ANGST WHICH ONLY THE TWO OF THEM UNDERSTAND! FUCKING GODDAMN

NO!!!!!

[SLAMS HANDS ON TABLE] HORIKOSHI I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU LAY ONE FINGER ON HER PRECIOUS HEAD

NOOOO MY SWEET BABY GIRL

oh my fuck that sweater is the cutest fucking thing and this girl has had no shortage of cute outfits let me tell you. BUT ANYWAY SHE’S SCARED AND CRYING NOOOO. holy shit her horn is fucking huge now I don’t feel comfortable with this at all, and Nejire is Best Mom for not giving a single fuck and holding and comforting her regardless of the risk, I love her so much

OH THANK GOD

PALPABLE RELIEF. boys I’m sorry it was wrong of me to yell, you did the right thing interrupting their sexy brooding

BREAK ROOM AHHHHH THE SCOOBY SQUAD LIVES AGAINNNN

it means you constantly amaze him!! you have so much potential he doesn’t even know what the limit might possibly be! don’t act like you don’t love it. or stop being so suspicious and trying to look for the hidden meaning and just accept the praise for what it is. you did good. now ask him if he’s heard any news about Best Jeanist :/

that’s right, he was researching and making faces a while back, are we finally gonna find out what all that was about??

DSLFKAJSLDKFH

HE MADE A NOTEBOOK FOR HIM AHHHHHHHH HE KNOWS WHAT HE LIKES THIS IS AMAZING

DOES HIM GIVING HIM THE INFO IN NOTEBOOK FORM MEAN IT’S UP TO DEKU WHETHER OR NOT HE WANTS TO SHARE THIS INFO WITH KACCHAN. HMMM. OBVIOUSLY HE WILL, BUT THAT’S A REAL POWER MOVE THOUGH, DAMN

“PAST SUCCESSORS / QUIRKS” EVERYONE, THIS BOOK CONTAINS THE SECRETS OF THE SIXQUIRKS. AND THE PREVIOUS OFA AVATARS. THAT’S FINE I’M JUST GONNA. ...I’LL BE FINE. FOR TWO WEEKS. FUCK

shit. well I know it was coming, that’s another reason why I didn’t feel particularly rushed to read this chapter lol. I kinda wish I’d had the foresight to save the Korean scanlation though, just to compare. ah well it’s probably still lying around somewhere

and lol and here’s the bonus page, and this one I did see floating around tumblr haha

I’m not sure how the three smartest kids in class are all present and yet not one of them had the foresight to consider that maybe, just maybe, this could be a bad idea. let’s let the kid with the combustible sweat handle the mochi I’m sure it’ll be -- [everyone immediately dies]. anyway so that’s some good friendly advice from Horikoshi there. happy new year friends!

#bnha 256 #midoriya izuku #ashido mina #uraraka ochako #aizawa shouta #present mic #all might #aoyama yuuga #eri (bnha)#bakugou katsuki #class 1-a #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #oh my god I am so tired #I will maybe edit some additional tags later lol #for now I'm gonna go eat dinner

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kevinbingham · 4 years

Text

The story of how white terrorists overthrew the US Government

Originally from here.

WOW. I knew some bits of this, but not all of it with the big picture. It is well worth the read. It’s a 2000 word essay (approximately 4 pages). ________________________________________

@michaelharriot 9:24 PM · Oct 21, 2019 ------ Thread:

A lot of white people were shocked to learn about the bombing of Tulsa from HBO's "Watchmen" while most black people are familiar with the bombing of Black Wall Street.

Even historians mention these events as isolated incidents. ------- Racial terrorism is actually normal in American history but I believe we talk about in the wrong way. These are not isolated incidents , nor are they rare.

This is the story of how a national campaign by whites terrorists overthrew the US government ------- A few weeks ago, Donald Trump tweeted that there would be a coup if he was ousted from the presidency and media outlets portrayed him as crazy. It it is NOT crazy to think that a race war is possible.

It has happened FOUR TIMES in history. ------- The first race war was the genocide of native Americans. The Civil War was the second. But I want to talk about the third one because it was actually an overthrow of the US government. ------- When we talk about racial injustice in America, we usally start with slavery and then go to the Jim Crow era. But we often forget that there was a period after the Civil War where white racists actually overthrew the government. This is not hyperbole. ------- First, we must remember that blacks were a LARGE part of Southern states right after the World War Wyipipo ((If they can call it "the War against Northern Aggression" then I can call it what I want).

Ala., Fla., Ga., & La. were more than 40% black. SC & MS were MAJORITY black ------- Because racial terrorists hadn't taken black people's right to vote SEVENTEEN black people served in Congress between 1870 and 1898.

All of these were Republicans (We'll get to what happened later). ------- In many states, including Mississippi, 90% of black eligible voters were registered to vote. Part of this was because Union troops were still in the South after the War for White Supremacy (Again, I call it what I want, you call it what you want). ------- And this "black wave" didn't just happen in Congress. It started happening on the local and state level, too. To combat this, white people enacted poll taxes, literacy tests and...

Nah, I'm just bullshitting.

They just started killing black people. ------- Now history books often mention these incidents as "riots" or "racial violence," but the FBI defines terrorism as acts "inspired by or associated with primarily US-based movements that espouse extremist ideologies of a political, religious, social, racial or environmental nature" ------- In 1866 during the Louisiana Constitutional Convention, ex-Confederates, police officers and regular, store-brand white folks attacked black Republicans in New Orleans. They killed any women, kids & black person they could find.

238 people were killed, most of whom were black ------- Historians estimate the Pulaski, Tenn. KKK committed 1,300 murders during the run-up to the 1868 election.

The same year, in St. Bernard Parish, white Democrats dragged somewhere between 35 and 200 black people from their homes and killed them to prevent them from voting ------- In Opelousas, La. members of the "Knights of the White Camelia" along with white Democrats killed 200-300 black people and slaughtered 27 prisoners in the fall of 1868.

It happened all over SC. Altogether, 1500 were killed to prevent them from voting ------- One of the things you must remember is that in many of these state, the Union soldiers in charge of upholding the law were black.

Can you imagine how salty white confederates must have been to fight for white supremacy and then have negroes lording over them as a reminder? ------- Not to mention the fact that these black people were now controlling politics. Remember, in many of these states, black people were OUTVOTING these traiterous-ass white supremacists.

Some of them decided to overthrow the government. ------- In Laurens County SC, THOUSANDS of white KKK sympathizers attacked black freedman after the white people's plan to stuff the ballot box failed. No one knows how many black people were killed in the resulting mass murder, but the Governor had to declare martial law in the county. ------- In NC, there was an actual 2-Year war. In the Kirk-Holden war (look it up, it's CRAZY), the army had to come in and fight the KKK.

Racist white Democrats took up arms, ARRESTED the leader of the army (Kirk), impeached NC's governor(Holden) and removed him from office. ------- Ark. had to form a militia to fight the KKK. They basically had to travel across the state fighting the Klan. But they didn't just intimidate blacks from voting, they had another plan: They just assassinated black candidates.

The Arkansas "Militia Wars" lasted almost 2 years. ------- Now, in all of these incidents, NO whites were ever charged, and white, racist Democrats managed to overthrow the will of the majority using violence and intimidation.

But none of those stories compare to what happened to the Original 33 in Georgia. ------- In 1868, a few years before Outkast had their first hit, the citizens of Georgia elected 30 black state representatives and 3 black senators to the state legislature.

24 were ministers. Y'all know white folks weren't having this: ------- First, they expelled 26 representatives.

Then they removed the 3 senators.

10 days later, they removed the final "mulatto" representatives from offices.

Then they started killing them. One-quarter of those black elected officials were jailed, beaten or shot. ------- Then, the Ga. Supreme Court ruled that the elected officials had no right to hold office because their veins held" African or blood."

So the representatives decided to go on a protest march to attend a Republican convention. ------- Now this wasn't just legislators, it was supporters too. You see, a lot of these men had been enslaved, so imagine how proud those black people must have been to see these brave men fighting for their rights.

Of course, the white people were incensed! ------- Knowing this, the black people brought their guns. Of course, during this time, this was perfectly normal... Kinda.

ONE reason these men were elected into office was that, after the Great "Can-I-Keep-My-Slave" War (I call it what I want, dammit!) there was an unspoken rule: ------- Knowing this, the black people brought their guns. Of course, during this time, this was perfectly normal... Kinda.

ONE reason these men were elected into office was that, after the Great "Can-I-Keep-My-Slave" War (I call it what I want, dammit!) there was an unspoken rule: ------- So, to combat this, one of those state senators reportedly had FOUR HUNDRED armed guards with him. I guess he figured that they couldn't ask each one individually but we know the whites don't play by the rules. ------- Remember, these people were walking 25 miles to a POLITICAL rally, when they encountered a white "citizens committee."

Now, if you're white, that might not sound scary, but trust me, black people know that ANY white person who refer to themselves as a "citizen" is up to no good. ------- So the citizens committee told the black people to hand over their guns, which the black crowd refused. The white Democrats were like: "aight, we tried," and let them past.

The black people thought: "Damn, that was too easy. If I know white folks, they are up to something." ------- Of course they were.

A little further down the road, in all-white town of Camilla, the sheriff had deputized damn near all of the white "citizens" and handed out guns.

When the black legislators and marchers came through, they massacred them ------- But they didn't just stop there. For WEEKS white Democrats roamed the Georgia countryside beating, murdering, lynching and killing any black person who even looked like they might vote. ------- Some of y'all know this, and some of y'all don't but in the entire history of America, this was the ONLY non-wartime incident that the President of the United States suspended the constitutional right to Habeas Corpus (the right to be detained without being charged with a crime) ------- That's right. A white supremacist army is the only army that ever defeated the US army.

In 1874 the FIVE THOUSAND members of the Democratic "White League" literally overthrew the Republican Lousiana Governor in the Battle of Liberty Place. ------- In Colfax, La., the same year, the White League killed 150 black people and assasinated Republican candidates

The same thing happened that year in Coushactta, La.

So why do I say the KKK won?

Is it a bit extreme to say they "overthrew the government?" -------- Well, not only did these terrorists use violence to oust democratically elected candidates from office but they changed the course of history.

In the 1876 election, racist Democrats cheated so bad that the Electoral College was basically disbanded. ------- For instance, SC stuffed the ballot box xo bad that 101 percent of eligible voters were represented. In Fla and Georgia, they just created their own ballots. Some of the Southern states just REFUSED to give Republicans their electoral votes, regardless of the results. ------- Instead, Congress decided to let a 15-member group go into a back room and decide what to do (It's a little more complicated than this, but not really. They LITERALLY let some white men decide who would be president because of this racial terrorism) ------- And Rutherford B Hayes was declared the winner 185 electoral votes to Tilden's 184

And to make up for a Republican president, Congress and Hayes agreed to do 5 things:

1. Put a Democrat in the cabinet (Hayes did it.) 2. Remove the troops from the South (Hayes did it) -------

3. Build a transcontinental railroad through the south (It never happened) 4. Help build the south from an agrarian economy to an industrial economy (Congress didn't do it)

But the fifth item is why I say the racist terrorists overthrew the government and beat won ------- The South wanted the Congress and the president to assure them that they would not interfere in how Southern states treated its black citizens.

Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Jim Crow. ------- Now, this kind of racial violence would go on for nearly a century without federal intervention, all because of "compromise" in 1876 when the racist Democrats overthrew the government.

Oh, I haven't forgotten what I said earlier. ------- You see, in 1948, Harry Truman integrated the armed forces and those Southern racists Democrats hated that. They could see that integration was coming, so they decided to form their own party: The Dixiecrats ------- By 1964, almost every Southern Democrat had switched to the Republican party. Their platform was the same as those racial terrorists from the 1860s: They believed they should be able to do whatever they wanted to black people.

Yes, the South seceded again. ------- 100 years after terrorists started their quest to overthrow the government, no Democratic presidential candidate would ever win a majority of white voters in ANY state again.

EVER. ------- So when Republicans talk about how Democrats used to be racists, they are partially correct. But I don't think of them as Democrats or Republicans, I just refer to them as "Racist Whites."

Since the beginning of this country, they have never been on the side of Democracy ------- And these incidents have nothing to do with hate. They are an orchestrated terrorist campaign to keep power. Whether its voter suppression or mass murder, they've done it before and they are still doing it.

And that, my friend, is called "white supremacy" ------- *correction: No Democratic president has won a majority of white voters in any SOUTHERN state since 1964 ------- By the way, I’m not some kind of history genius.

I didn’t know most of this information until a few months ago when phone calls with @HenryLouisGates and @AfricanaCarr sent me down this rabbit hole.

Now THEY are geniuses -------

#racism #end racism #white supremacy #southern history #black wall street #race war #racial injustice #jim crow #white terrorism #us history #micheal harriot #voter supression #kkk

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emospritelet · 4 years

Note

Robert Sutherland goes to campaign in Scotland and meets Belle who is the local librarian of a tiny town. The Library is in danger of closing due to lack of funding

Sutherland getting his arse handed to him will always be amusing to write

No matter how many times she read the letter in front of her, the message it delivered was no less devastating. Belle French could feel her lower lip tremble, her eyes stinging with the first tears born of hopelessness and frustration. After everything she had done, the arguments she had had with the Town Council and the evidence she had produced in support of her pleas, it appeared they had made their decision.

Dear Miss French, the letter said. It is with great regret that we write to inform you that the Council was unable to find funding for the library within the constraints of the coming year’s budget. Severe Government cuts to local authority funding have meant that some difficult decisions needed to be made, and it was felt that a further rise in Council Tax would have caused intolerable hardship to struggling families. With a straitened budget, therefore, the Council has decided to prioritise public safety and the long-awaited bypass, which will ensure Avonleigh’s future growth and prosperity…

Belle tossed the letter aside, blinking rapidly as the first tears fell. It was over. Two years of fighting to keep her head above water, two years of fundraising in the close-knit community, and it had all been for nothing. The library would close at the end of March, probably for good. It meant that not only would she be out of a job, but also that the town of Avonleigh would lose its heart. She wanted to scream at the short-sighted decision of the local councillors, and rage at the politicians in Whitehall who had seen fit to cut local authority funding in the first place.

She slumped back in her chair, shaking her head. A cup of tea was still steaming on the little table next to her, and she reached for it, glancing at the television as she did so. Her eyes narrowed as a familiar face appeared: a man in an expensive suit and crisp white shirt with short, light brown hair turning silver at his temples. He was shaking hands with people she recognised as local market traders, and she grasped the remote, flicking the volume back on.

“And we are live with the Prime Minister on a walkabout in Avonleigh, one of the constituencies tipped as a possible gain for his party in the next election,” announced the newsreader. “The recent grant of a lucrative defence contract to local firm Arendelle plc, the town’s main employer, has provided a significant boost to Robert Sutherland’s poll ratings, and it seems that local residents are responding positively to the visit...”

Belle jumped to her feet, fury rising up within her, a raging torrent. He had the nerve to come to her town and act like he was some kind of saviour? How dare he!

Sutherland had prepared himself for being heckled. Visiting a constituency like Avonleigh, which had switched parties four times in the past six elections, was always something of a risk. But it was a good news day; the announcement of the new defence contract would provide a massive boost to the town and guaranteed the continued presence of Arendelle plc in the area, with job security for the 2,500 staff the company employed. Given the general decline in other manufacturing sectors, it was expected that his visit would be welcomed by the locals, and so far that was borne out by those he had met. His Chief of Staff, Anna Marshall, walked just behind him, keeping a watchful eye on the press pack that was tagging along and filming the interactions. Once he had done the walk through the market, it was off to Arendelle to give a press conference. The papers would have something positive to report on, for once.

“Good of you to come, Prime Minister!”

A burly stallholder held out his hand, and Sutherland responded with a nod and a smile, reaching out to take it.

“Glad to be here,” he said. “How’s business?”

“It’d be better if we didn’t have so much V.A.T. to pay.”

“Well, we’re looking into that,” said Sutherland. “Watch for an announcement in the next budget.”

“Keep it moving,” said Anna, in an undertone, and Sutherland shook the man’s hand again and walked on, reporters keeping pace with cameras on their shoulders.

“Prime Minister, is it true about Arendelle?” called a woman from a nearby fish stall. Sutherland smiled.

“It certainly is,” he said. “The new defence contract should ensure the presence of Arendelle in the local area for at least another ten years.”

There was a raucous cheer amongst the market stalls, and Sutherland smiled, nodding to the eager faces around him.

“I’ll be heading to the firm to provide more details once we’re done here,” he added. “I expect full coverage in the news later today. This is an excellent development for the future of Avonleigh, and ensures that this town will continue to prosper under a Government that delivers on its promises.”

More cheers, and Sutherland could feel that familiar warm glow of satisfaction at the success of a policy decision.

“Nicely done,” murmured Anna. “I think we’re almost finished here, so let’s head back to the car.”

“Prime Minister!”

Sutherland turned as a young woman with brunette curls and a determined look on her face marched towards him through the crowd. He held out a hand, smiling as she approached.

“Good morning,” he said. “Delighted to be here.”

“You’ve got a bloody nerve!” she snapped, putting hands on hips. “After the cuts you made to local authorities, you think you can come here and swan around the marketplace like some - some conquering hero?”

Sutherland blinked, letting the hand drop back to his side.

“Because of your policies, the people of Avonleigh are going to lose their library,” she went on. “The one place they can come for free computer access! The one place that runs literacy programmes for children and adults! Have you any idea of the damage you’re doing?”

The woman was glaring at him, clear blue eyes in a pale oval of a face, her cheeks flushed with indignation. She was also tiny, no taller than five feet four, and brimming over with righteous anger.

“Alright, let’s move along,” said Anna firmly, moving to block the woman from his view, but Sutherland held up a hand. He had expected some opposition to his presence, after all, and he had to be seen to deal with it. The cameras didn’t stop rolling for his discomfort.

“Ma’am, the Government has been putting millions more into local services than the previous administration,” he said calmly. “But we have a finite budget, and—”

“Oh, don’t give me that bollocks!” she snapped. “You can always find money for defence contracts, can’t you? There’s always money to fund war and death and tragedy! But ask for a tiny fraction of that to do some bloody good in this world and it’s treated as the most unreasonable thing ever! Why is that?”

“—a finite budget,” went on Sutherland, as though she hadn’t interrupted. “Which means that difficult decisions always have to be made.”

The woman let out a humourless laugh.

“Difficult decisions?” she demanded. “Have you ever had to decide between whether to heat your home or feed your children? Have you had to decide to sell your car to pay the rent and keep your family off the streets? The people in this town make difficult decisions every day, and the first things to go are luxuries like new books and after-school activities! Where else could they come for these things but the library?”

Sutherland wanted to sigh.

“Decisions on local authority spending are not made by my Government,” he said coolly. “Perhaps you should direct your concerns to your local Council.”

“Oh, you think I haven’t already done that?” she asked. “You may not make decisions at a local level, but you’re the one holding the bloody purse-strings! You’re the one who decides how much to cut local funding!”

“Actually, it’s the Chancellor of the Exchequer and—”

“Is the literacy of the electorate not important to you?” she went on, as though he hadn’t spoken. “Or is it that you want to keep them in the dark so they can sit around and parrot whatever bullshit you drip-feed the news outlets?”

“Ma’am,” put in Anna. “This is neither the time nor the place.”

“No, it never is, is it?” spat the woman, blue eyes flashing. “Well, I’ve tried being polite and going through the proper channels! I’ve tried following the bloody rules and what good did it do?”

“Perhaps you could put all this in a letter,” said Sutherland, relieved at how calm he sounded. “I assure you that—”

“You treat the less fortunate in this country like a problem that can be ignored until it’s election year, then bought off with cheap gimmicks or distracted by xenophobic talking points!”

“Ma’am—”

“Well, it won’t stand!” she interrupted. “The people of Avonleigh will see right through you, mark my words! It won’t stand!”

She turned on her toes, dark curls swinging, and stormed off back the way she had come. Sutherland blinked rapidly. There was a buzz of conversation in the air around him, but he barely heard it. He felt as though he had been standing in the path of a grit-blaster, his skin flayed and raw. Anna stepped up beside him, giving him a very level look.

“Cameras have just stopped rolling,” she said. “I’d say let’s get to Arendelle before all the editors decide to rewrite their headlines, but I think we both know what’s gonna be playing on the news this evening. And it’s not going to be the new contract.”

“Anna,” said Sutherland. “Who the everloving fuck was that?”

#sutherelle fic #sutherelle #my fic #ripperblackstaff #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #anyelle

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better-be-reddie · 4 years

Text

Absconding, Aberrations, & Alligators

'It starts with Richie standing on a small stage in front of a decent crowd. It's been a good four months since his giant fuck up in Chicago- four months since the great Sewer Tour sequel- working title. He's finally working to get his career back on its feet, before he no longer has an agent or manager or all the other people that make his career somewhat functional. They're starting him off small, a test run to see if he's over whatever mental breakdown that caused him to bomb his last show and cancel the tour he'd been in the middle of. Spoiler Alert: he was just getting started.'

Richie takes an impromptu trip to Florida, somehow it all works out.

Hey! So I posted this fic to ao3 awhile ago but now that I have a blog I’m porting it here too. Rated T for language I guess No warnings, just 11,000 words feat. Richie’s gay crisis.

It starts with Richie standing on a small stage in front of a decent crowd. It's been a good four months since his giant fuck up in Chicago- four months since the great Sewer Tour sequel- working title . He's finally working to get his career back on its feet, before he no longer has an agent or manager or all the other people that make his career somewhat functional. They're starting him off small, a test run to see if he's over whatever mental breakdown that caused him to bomb his last show and cancel the tour he'd been in the middle of.

Spoiler Alert: he was just getting started.

Apparently Richie "Trashmouth" Tozier was never really off his bullshit. It's just, the nearly nonexistent filter he did manage to keep was corroding faster than he could keep track. And if he's being honest, it didn't actually start on that meager lounge stage in LA.It didn't even start three months ago when answering a knock at his front door forced him face to face with one Edward Kaspbrak, fresh from serving his now ex wife-mother monstrosity divorce papers.

"Just looking for a place to lie low for a bit." Eddie had shrugged in front of his small mountain of suitcases.

"What and they ran out of fucking housing in New York?" Richie had come back with.

"Fuck you, man! You said if I ever needed-"

"Yeah yeah," Richie made sure to cut off the would-be rant, "Get in here then." He'd said, throwing the door open and stepping aside, letting Eddie into his sorry excuse of living quarters.

He quipped and sassed his best in order to keep the fact that he was internally screaming hidden. Especially when he noticed all of Eddie's little facial ticks giving away just how abysmal he found Richie's standard of living. The thing was, when they had parted ways in Derry, Richie had been ready to let go, to push down his feelings and the impossible level of affection he'd held for his friend. Afterall he had lived twenty-something odd years of his life without Eddie, so he reasoned that he could keep on living without him.

That's what he had told himself anyway, over, and over, and over in the month it took Eddie to just show up unannounced. Richie didn't want to admit just how awful his pining had gotten those four weeks alone, but it had been bad. Somehow being reacquainted with the man had set off his aching heart almost more than he could care to control. But no, this shitstorm he was about to set off didn't start that day three months ago, nor any of the subsequent days after wherein Eddie settled in and became an integral part of Richie's daily routine. It didn't even start those four months ago when Richie walked into that damn Chinese restaurant and saw Eddie for the first time in decades, which had him falling dick-first into one hell of a sexuality crisis. Again. It didn't start when they were awkward, gangly thirteen year olds and Richie was stabbing his hands full of splinters in order to carve an embarrassing hommage to his dear first love on the rails of the Kissing Bridge. If Richie was being honest with himself, which he rarely ever was, he would admit that it all started a good thirty-four years or so ago when Richie was fresh into the first grade. Sometime after he'd mastered his ABC's but before he got his glasses that would magnify his eyes and really solidify his place as a loser; early enough that Richie would brag about being a master of mud-pies but back before anyone knew he was certifiably blind, except for Stan and Bill who worked as mediocre guide-dogs while everyone else just labeled him as a clumsy kid.

It was a cool fall day when Stan and Bill hadn't been around which left Richie particularly vulnerable to his "clumsiness", this time to the result of him tripping and scraping his hands up. Richie had huffed and tried to wipe the mud off his palms and onto his pants when a pair of sneakers entered his bleary vision.

"You should really clean off that dirt." The newcomer spoke.

"What?" Richie had asked dumbly.

The smaller boy sighed and readjusted the fanny pack strapped to his waist before replying, "If you don't wash the dirt out and patch up your cuts they'll get infected and you'll die."

Richie had been startled but also bemused. He got cuts and scrapes all the time, and was almost always covered in dirt from playing.

"I won't die!"

The boy shook his head, "my mommy told me that if you keep dirt in a cut it'll go bad. You don't want to have to go to the doctor and sit in the awful rooms just to make sure they don't need to cut anything off."

Richie laughed, "That sounds fake, why would they cut anything off?"

"If the cut goes bad they might have to!" The boy spoke, growing irritable, "Know what? Forget it, I might have something in my pack." The boy dug around in his overly stuffed fanny pack making Richie smile."Got it, now hold still and let me fix your gross hands." The boy said, followed with, "I'm Eddie, by the way."

Richie's smile grew at how the boys- how Eddie's voice turned shy as he introduced himself.

"I'm Richie."

It was that moment, decades ago on a school playground, that had started the chain of events that would build, and build, and build until Richie was so unbelievably in love that he would never really be able to move past it. It was the first domino in a series of ridiculous and probably ill advised life decisions that would leave him standing on a small stage in LA about to segue into his next joke featuring the infamous "girlfriend" character his writers just loved him to bitch about. It was a bit that he had rehashed over and over in his different routines, this new variation he had mastered last week before ever setting foot in the small lounge.

That was probably why his mind was elsewhere as he began, he was debating in the back of his head what Eddie would like for dinner later, whether he should pick up take out on his way home or it took him a moment to realize that the next words out of his mouth were not exactly what he'd practiced from his script,

"So, my boyfriend Eddie and I decided to try and -" Richie stumbled on the sentence, his brain kicking in a moment too late as a couple surprised noises came from the audience, and a few claps and hollers rang out.

Thirty- something odd years of pining and daydreams of the day he'd finally get to call Eddie his had finally broken through his shitty barrier and merged his fantasies with reality. Boom. Domino effect.

Richie began to realize not only had he just come out, unscripted onstage, but also that this show was being streamed online...live.

He also knew that he couldn't afford to fuck this up, or make it look like he'd fucked up again so he stumbled his way through through rest of the sentence and ad-libbed the joke with alarming grace considering he felt like he was about to throw up.

His manager was going to kill him.

He knew taking it back would have only ruined the show made it even more impossibly awkward, so he pushed on until the act was complete, rushing off the stage a little more quickly than he normally would, if only so he could hide behind the scenes and panic good and proper.

If Richie's manager didn't take him out in the next five minutes, Eddie surely would.

---

Richie had less than five minutes alone to panic in the dingy back hallway that lead to the club's emergency exit before his manager was marching up to him.

"You had one job!"

"I-I know!" Richie said, voice possibly a tad strained.

"Rich, what the hell."

"I know !"

"You're single handedly making me go grey! Okay calm down- we can- we can roll with this- see online opinion polls and then come up with a strategy. God we might have to renegotiate-"

But Richie wasn't listening to him anymore, he didn't have the brain capacity to listen or be grateful to the man who had, once again, watched as Richie doused himself in gasoline and lit a match. He should have felt bad for the guy, and maybe when his own panic died down he would, his manager was only trying to offer an extinguisher. He definitely felt like he was on fire- and not in the good way of speaking. Sweat dripped off his brow and his skin prickled as his stomach churned, twisting and writhing itself into knots. All he seemed to be aware of was the near constant vibration against his thigh that his phone was giving off, as it blew up with notifications.

Richie's hands shook as he reached for his device, the finger scanner refusing to work due to the alarming dampness of his hands. He unlocked the phone using his code instead and balked at the notifications. He could see Bev’s name pop up next a bold 10 to indicate how many messages she alone had sent so far, and the little numbers over his text app were steadily going up as the rest of the losers blasted him.

Great.

Good to know he had an audience.

His heart seized as the screen changed suddenly and Eddie's picture took over, blocking his home screen. It was a great picture, a wonderful candid Richie had taken of Eddie in one of his full blown road rage meltdowns. Richie had laughed heartily when he'd seen how the picture turned out; Eddie, on the other hand, had been less pleased and demanded he delete it. Naturally Richie made it the man's profile picture instead. The photo always managed to get a giggle or smile out of him as if he were some schoolgirl with a crush. He wasn't laughing now. His eyes darted between Eddie's comically angry face and the green answer call button. Richie felt frozen unable to respond as the tightness in his chest grew, he felt dizzy as the walls closed in around him. The vibration of the phone stopped and the screen flipped back to his home page. A new notification for another missed call appeared, followed seconds later by a notification for a new voicemail.

Richie gasped and began to move quickly towards the exit door shouting an excuse to his manager who called out in alarm behind him. He all but fell against the metal door and staggered out into the hot LA sun, the thick air and humidity nowhere near the relief he wanted against his already flushed skin.

His phone jumped to life once more, vibrating in his hands as Eddie's familiar picture flashed onto the screen once more. Richie gulped and swiped over the green answer button and brought the device up to his ear with shaking hands.

"Richie? Fucking finally- what the hell?"

Richie's eyes widened and he quickly hung up, nearly dropping the phone in order to do so. He didn't know whether to laugh or scream, an uncanny hysteria bubbled in his chest and everything just felt like too much. Eddie must hate him. There was no way he couldn't. His phone alerted him to text another text.

Eddie.

'You better have been disconnected.'

Richie's phone rang again. Richie swiped to ignore.

'Pick up. We need to talk.'

Panic seized him. There was literally no good reasoning behind the phrase ' We need to talk.' God, he even added a period at the end. His phone rang. The panic boiled, crested in a mind blanking peak.

Richie blinked owlishly at the broken remains of his phone. Shattered against the dirty pavement of the alley. Great.

"Hey...Rich?"

Richie definitely did not jump. He turned to see his manager behind him, peeking out from the door.

"You good bud?"

He was definitely not good.

"Yeah. Yeah, sorry."

"Okay, okay, you sure? Cause you sort of seem not good?"

Richie had a strong sense of deja vu all of the sudden. He shook his head. His mind was coming back online and he had no idea what he was supposed to do. He couldn't just stroll into his house like nothing was wrong, Eddie was waiting for him at home and Richie liked his dick attached to him thanks. He looked back to the shattered phone.

"Hey can I borrow your phone?" His manager side-eyed him dubiously, cautiously and then the broken phone on the ground.

"I guess- as long as it isn't going to end up like that."

Richie's first instinct had been to call Bill, he was closest afterall, and he was the man with a plan; but that would have been his most obvious move. Eddie would no doubt storm the place in the midst of a rage so deep Richie didn't even want to picture it. So Bill had been mentally crossed off his list. Stan, Richie loved , as much as he could platonically love someone, but that would be obvious too. Plus he and Patty had been on somewhat of a retreat. Something about doing something relaxing and therapeutic after nearly dying and Richie really didn't feel like intruding on that. Beverly would have his back. She would laugh in his fucking face, but she would also give him one of her hugs after and let him mope. The problem with Bev though, is that she came with Ben. Now Richie adored Ben, it was literally impossible not to, however all it would take was one angry look from Eddie and the man would crumble faster than a house of cards in a hurricane. He couldn't lie for shit, especially when emotions were high. And that really left Richie with one last alternative. Which is how he found himself stepping off a plane, with no more than his wallet and the clothes on his back, half way across the god damn country, in fucking Florida. Richie looked around the airport as if it had personally offended him, and honestly it sort of did simply for being located in such a subpar fucking state. He really didn't see what the hell Mike saw in the place. He really didn't get it. Speaking of Mike.

"Richie!"

Richie looked up and saw the man of the hour waving him over. Mike beamed at him and greeted him with arms wide open.

"It's good to see you man!" Mike said,

"Yeah, yeah you too." Richie agreed.

It was good to see Mike again, they'd stayed in contact the same way they all had; through group chats and Skype calls mostly but this was the first time since they all separated in Derry that Richie had seen Mike in person. He really wished it was for better reasons. And not in Florida.

"Alright, let's get your bags and then we can head out. There's a good diner not far from my place, I think you'll enjoy it."

Richie shuffled awkwardly, "I'm all here man!"

Mike looked confused for a moment then somewhat incredulous."You- you're all-? Did you not bring anything with you?"

"I said it was an impromptu trip didn't I?" Richie said.

The look Mike shot him appeared as if he were waiting for Richie to crack a joke, when none were forthcoming his brows raised.

"Alright man. I guess we can stop and pick you up some stuff you'll need. I have an extra toothbrush at home you can-"

"You were always the most prepared outta us!" Richie cheered possibly putting too much energy into a...toothbrush.

Richie knew it was weird, the whole situation was weird. He knew it was weird, and he knew Mike now knew it was weird. He could only hope that his fake enthusiasm could be obnoxiously distracting enough that Mike would let it slide unquestioned.

"Uh-huh." Mike said still eyeing him up, "Well, follow me I guess."

Richie breathed out a sigh that at least they weren't going to have this conversation in the middle of the Arrivals gate.

Mike's home was small but cozy, it had the foundations of something older with character that had maybe been remodeled sometime in its recent history. The living areas were clean but cluttered; books, and notebooks, and loose leaf were strewn around in somewhat organized heaps that probably made sense to Mike and Mike alone. The home was nestled amongst a forest of tall trees and brush that gave a sense of privacy, and to the side was a barely visible trail which Mike had pointed to when they pulled up and told him went straight to a little beach. Richie had eyed it dubiously, on one hand, beach day but on the other hand, he didn't feel like running into any gators, or snakes, or whatever the fuck else lived in this hellscape of a state. If he wanted to die that badly he would've stayed in LA thank you.

The first night the two of them had enjoyed boxes of take out which were supplemented by maybe a bit too much alcohol. They talked into the night, catching up in a roundabout way that dodged the elephant in the room. Of course that was mostly in part to the way Richie would circle the conversation back around to another of Mike's many research projects whenever the man looked like he was readying himself to broach the subject on what the real reason for Richie's visit was. Apparently Mike had been in an out of service area at the time of Richie's show and either hadn't yet heard about the disaster that it was or was too polite to corner him about it. Still, it sort of left Richie feeling like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Then again, that could have also been caused by the fact that he was still without a phone and thus had no clue how extensive the damage he caused actually was. Well, he had a tiny idea. He'd already ruined the best damn thing in his pathetic life, what did the rest of it matter? Richie ended up taking the bottle of vodka to bed with him that night.

The next day Mike took them both into town to pick up some more things for Richie under the disguise of grocery shopping. During which, Mike casually asked if Richie was thinking of replacing his phone.

"You said it broke right?"

"Yeah," he sighed, " Yeah, okay I guess I should get on that."

Before his manager had a full on aneurysm. He was sure his publicists were already dead from shock or stress.

After spending way too long in a small outlet shop in a nearby strip mall Richie finally had a new phone set up. Richie played with the device as Mike drove them back towards his house. He hadn't turned it on yet, he simply passed the phone from hand to hand, it gave him something to do. He got the same model as the one he'd broken so that he could keep using his old SIM card. He told himself that he would turn it on once he got inside, face the music. Of course once the two made it back Richie went about the rest of his day doing anything but set up his phone. Richie even let Mike lead him down the death trail to the small beach, which would have been really nice had it not been in Florida.

"And not a gator in sight!" Richie said enthusiastically as he sat on the sandy shore.

"You joke, but that pic I sent you guys last week was only a twenty minute walk from here, in a river that a-ways." Mike gestured behind and to the left of where they sat and Richie shot him a dirty look.

"I came here to try and relax."

Mike only laughed.

That night, after the sun had set in a myriad of colors much less impressive than the ones which shone in good ol' Cali. Richie found himself curled on a deck chair Mike had on his front stoop, watching the moths and other bugs circle the porch lights with an intense fixation, the darker it got the more of them had appeared. His phone was once again in his hands. It had been charging all afternoon, face down on the coffee table. He sighed and finally stopped his fidgeting to turn his attention to the device. He waited for it to load up after he turned it on. Before long he was staring at the familiar screen, there was only about a second of silence before the phone jumped to life and loaded the-

Jesus Christ -over a hundred notifications. He felt a little bad as he skimmed over the list of people vying for his attention, mostly he had messages from the Losers. Maybe it had been a kind of dick move to drop off the face of the earth for two days. He quickly turned to his email. He winced at the couple he had from sponsors. Well, former sponsors he assumed without having to open them.

He instead concentrated on the email from his manager.

'Alright Rich, I'm assuming you still have access to email, despite your sudden vacation but please make sure you tell me when you have a reliable phone, I'd like to discuss some things further. Good news: Your live-stream is trending, and there's been a lot of supportive interest within a whole new demographic. With a little work-shopping we can pull this all back together and make something out of it. Bad news: we lost a few sponsors, some of the higher ups weren't happy with your unpredictability. Also there's been some negative press from some previous demographics, as well as some confusion on whether you were serious in your bit. After hashing things out with the team we think you should start forming more of an online presence, we are working on getting your Twitter verified. Make a statement, control the flow of rumors, if you would like I can talk to the writers about coming up with a statement for you. We need to encourage support from this new demographic by reassuring people your coming out bit wasn't just a bad joke. Call me once you've read this, and get your ass back to LA.'

Richie let out a shuddering breath. A bit of the hysteria he had felt back in LA had begun to crawl up his spine. He could feel his pulse quicken at the mere thought of taking to social media, especially to what? Tell everyone he's gay? Again? Hadn't the first time been horrific and awkward enough?

His teeth clenched together as he worked his jaw until it ached, his breath seemed to burn his nostrils and tightly wound throat with every motion. Emotion thick and cloying wrapped around him until he felt as if he were drowning. He felt the sudden urge to jump up and run. As if he had anywhere to go in fucking Florida that wouldn't end with him in the jaws of some ugly reptile.

He placed his phone to the side and rubbed his hands together, feeling inexplicably dirty suddenly. He had run half way across the country and he still felt just as bad as he had in LA. All the gross intrusive thoughts were still there, the voices telling him how disgusting he was, how he'd disappointed his friends, driven them off. That he'd wind up sad and alone again. Behind that overwhelming fear was shame, shame that he had been lying for so fucking long, and yet behind that was the fear of anyone finding out, which circled back to more shame over his feelings to begin with. He shot his phone a scathing look. His manager wanted a statement? What the fuck was he supposed to say? What the actual hell was he supposed to Tweet out? ' Hi guys, it's true, I love cock but don't worry I hate myself more than any of you ever could!' ? Yeah, like that would go over well. Richie tried to amuse himself by picturing the look on his publicists face. God, it was suddenly even more tempting. Though he really couldn't afford to lose another one, especially while dealing with this latest fuck up. He wondered if he should finally face the music, open up all of the Losers unread messages. He opened his messenger app and immediately felt even more overwhelmed. His thumb hovering over the list of names. His eyes fixated on 'Eds '. Still, he hesitated. Terrified by what he'd see.

A small part of him tried to hold onto the sliver of optimistic news his manager had relayed, however it seemed slippery and hard to keep hold of it lieu of all the other shit. He pressed down over Eddie's contact name and held until it highlighted and with shaking hands he quickly deleted the message thread, erasing all of their previous conversations as well as the slew of unread messages. Almost immediately he felt as if his stomach had fallen into his gut. Regret and fear churned in him and he felt more strongly than ever as if he'd lost something. Richie startled as his phone buzzed obnoxiously; he looked down, heart in his throat, expecting to see Eddie's picture and was surprised to instead see Stan's.

He swallowed thickly before accepting the call.

"Hello?" Richie winced at how tepid his voice sounded.

"So, he is alive." Said Stan, dryly.

Richie groaned and slumped even lower in his chair, covering his face with one hand as if blocking his vision could also block out his embarrassment. There was a beat of silence before Stan asked,"So, what's going on Rich?"

And Richie couldn't help it, all the stress and emotional upheaval- that fact he was in Florida of all places - hit him all at once and bubbled up. First as a near silent giggle, then falling apart into gasping, full bodied laughs. Tears tracked down from his cheeks and Richie honestly couldn't tell what sort of emotion was behind them. Stan, bless his heart, waited patiently for him to gather his wits and calm himself down before prompting him again with a: "Yeah?"

Richie nodded despite knowing no one could see him, "Yeah." He agreed.

"The groups been pretty worried." Stan pushed gently.

"I- I don't know what to say." Richie admitted, feeling his guts churn with unease.

"Well, that really is something isn't it?" Stan said, "not everyday we find something that shuts you up."

And Richie can't help the startled laugh that escapes his throat. Despite his unease, his fear, the smile doesn't leave right away."It's been an eventful few days." He finally agrees.

"And how do you feel?"

Richie pulled a face, "Who are you? My therapist?"

"Pretty much except the pay is shit. Now answer the question."

Richie sighed, "I feel-" he cut himself off trying to discern a word he could use, "bad."

Surprisingly Stan didn't mock him for his eloquence, or lack thereof.

Richie tried again. "I'm…"

His guts continued to knot and squirm until he had to physically draw up his long legs to his chest, hoping for a respite, "I feel kinda sick."

"You always did get queasy when your nerves were high. You threw up on the first day of school."

"How the fuck do you remember that?"

"Like I'd ever let you forget. You threw up all over Greta Keene's light up shoes."

Richie groaned, "I mean, she kinda ended up deserving it?"

"True." There was another beat of silence, but this one was much less awkward.

Richie looked out into the dark foliage, lost in thoughts. "I can feel you thinking." Stan said softly.

"I fucked up."

"A bit, but probably not as much as you fear."

"I-I doubt that. Did you- Did you see it? The show?" Richie asked tentatively.

"Yes," Stan said after a moment's pause, "not while it was live...but afterwards."

"Then you know I fucked up."

"Yes, but as I said-"

"I don't know what to do." Richie interrupted Richie could hear Stan sigh through the phone.

It didn't sound like a noise made out of frustration but Richie's own self doubt was making him question everything.

"It's okay to be scared."

Richie felt his throat constrict at the words and he had to close his eyes against their sudden burning. He suddenly really wished Stan was here with him.

"I- I am. Scared." He said, haltingly.

"That's okay. You're not alone though, you know that right? You don't need to be alone."

"What if- what if they hate me?” ‘What if he hates me?’

“They could never. There's no way you're getting rid of any of us that easy."

Richie let out a humorless chuckle.

"Why do you think they would hate you?" Stan asked softly, though the question felt more like a prompt than asked out of genuine curiosity.

Stan always had a way of sounding older than he was, like he already knew the answers he was trying to make you understand as well. Richie felt suddenly off kilter as he wondered if Stan had somehow already known.

"Because-- Because I'm- Gay." He swallowed down the bile that suddenly threatened to rise up. He had never said it before. Not out loud and never to anyone else.

There was a pause as Stan waited to make sure Richie had said all he was going to before answering.

"Richie." He said, "None of us think any differently about you. You need to know that."

"How- how do you know- I mean what if-"

"None of us think any less of you. I'm not going to say this isn't a big deal, because to you it is. This is, well, it's obviously been something eating away at you. And sure, maybe you decided to come out in somewhat of a dramatic fashion and freaked yourself out, but you don't have to face all of this alone. We are going to be here to support you one hundred percent."

Richie sniffed back a few wayward tears that threatened to escape.

"Are you...are you sure?"

"Have you read any of the messages they've sent you?"

"No- I- no."

"You should. I think it will help. Also everyone was super worried when you went AWOL. You are...safe aren't you?"

Richie felt a pang of guilt at the hint of unease that marred Stan's voice.

"Yeah. Yeah I'm safe." He eyed the bushes warily, "as safe as I can be."

"Good. But...I could be in LA in just over a day you know."

Richie felt his heart swell and he wiped away a stubborn tear that refused to be pushed down. "Thanks, but I'm okay...plus I'm...not exactly in LA right now."

"You're not?" Stan said sounding a bit alarmed.

"Nah, taking a small vacation."

"Have you told Eddie? He's been-"

"We haven't spoken."

"Richie." Stan sounded tired now.

"I - I can't, okay? You saw the fucking show. What the fuck am I supposed to say to him now? 'Hey! So I told the whole world about my big gay crush on you! Oh, by the way, I have a big-'"

"Richard!"

"What!"

"Promise me you'll talk to him. Whatever happens, it won't be as bad as you're making it out to be in your head."

"Fine." Richie said begrudgingly followed closely by a put upon huff.

"Thank you. Now, will you be okay?"

"Yeah," he said, and though it was with little confidence, a little was still more than he'd felt previously.

"Good. Call me anytime if you need to talk. But you should try messaging the others, I know they'd like to hear from you and...they'll understand Richie. Losers gotta stick together."

Richie smiled despite himself. "Losers gotta stick together."

He parroted back.

"And call Eddie."

"Okay mom."

"I'm being serious Richie."

"Goodnight Stanley!"

Stan sighed but gave in, "Goodnight."

Richie took the phone away from his ear and ended the call. He sat staring at the screen until it flipped automatically back to his homepage. He hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath and opening his messaging app. He clicked on the first name on his timeline list and began to scroll, eyes darting over the string of texts, a small smile making its way into his face as he took in the words of, yes shock but also support. Once caught up, he moved on to the next Loser until he had read through them all. And no he definitely didn't cry.

Well, maybe only a little. He felt another pang of loss when he remembered just why Eddie's name wasn't on his messaging list. He quickly opened up a new message draft and selected Eddie's name off his favourites list and then froze.

Stan's words played over in his head, encouraging him. All Of his friends show of support warmed him to his core, he could do this- A loud rustle from the underbrush sent Richie's heart jack-hammering in his chest. He froze, wide-eyed as he stared into the dark. A loud snap of a twig sent Richie vaulting over the side of the deck chair and nearly ripping the screen door off its hinges in his haste to get inside. 'Not today Satan', he thought as he slammed the front door closed behind him and slid the deadbolt into place. Richie huffed and wandered over to the pullout bed that had become his new home and collapsed onto it. He looked at his phone once more, and the opened draft before he deleted it and turned the device off. He'd message Eddie tomorrow.

Richie did not message Eddie the next day, nor the day after that.However, in his defense, he had been busy. Richie helped Mike with odd jobs around his property and was becoming more and more convinced that there was a large reptilian monster of some sort living on the grounds. Mike could roll his eyes all he wanted but the truth of the matter was that one day Richie swore he saw scales moving slowly through the brush.

Richie had also taken up his managers challenge and started trying to revamp his online presence. Now that he was officially verified he began, as the young ones would say, shitposting. His first order of conduct being a small tweet which read:

Richie Tozier @OfficialTrashmouth 'Turns out my biggest joke was pretending I was straight.' It had taken him a good three hours of nervous sweating before he had finally been able to post the tweet but he had also felt an immense sense of relief after receiving a screenshot of his own tweet from Bev minutes later followed by some words of love and way too many emojis. The rest of the losers had also sent their love and support through the group chat and private messages. He mostly ignored his twitter feed though, he had made the mistake of checking up on the tweet and its relevance earlier and had immediately felt overwhelmed. Not to say that most of the feedback was bad or anything, however as someone who had spent such a long time clinging to a carefully constructed persona, suddenly being unmasked and thrust into the spotlight was...scary. it was hard not to feel the shame and frustration he had been fighting off all his life.

Later, Mike had proven that he wasn't as much of an internet phobic recluse as Richie had begun to believe him to be, when over dinner that night he had clapped Richie on the back and told him only a little awkwardly that he was happy for him and that he hoped he could live the rest of his life with more confidence in who he was. Which? Okay, damn.

Richie had simply nodded, taken aback from how touched he'd been, luckily Mike had not seemed to be expecting anything back from him and the rest of the night flowed into something more familiar. Before they split for the night to retreat to their own sleeping arrangements, Mike asked if he had spoken to Eddie yet.

"Bill said Eddie was sounding pretty worried about you."

Richie had felt the swirl of something related to guilt settle over him, leaving him feeling restless with a negative energy he couldn't quite shake off.

"Eddie's a big boy, he'll be fine." Richie said, mind already wandering and worrying.

Mike sighed but let it drop before wishing Richie a good night. Another day another battle.

Richie lay awake well into the night, going over all the little dominoes that had fallen over and lead him to where he now was. Which of course meant that, mostly, he thought of Eddie. He reminisced about hot summer days spent by the quarry, of nights spent tempting Eddie out of his bedroom window to go look at the stars, he remembered the nights when they would talk about all the things they wanted to do with their lives, about how much they wanted to leave Derry behind but never each other. Their pinky fingers interlocking in quiet promises that extended far beyond the reaches of Derry.

He wondered a little bitterly how he could have kept his feelings contained even as long as he had, when there had been so many moments, so many times when he felt ready to explode with them. All the times he felt the need to pull Eddie’s metaphorical pigtails because he just couldn’t stand not being the center of his attention any longer. God, had he gotten good at it though. He couldn’t help but smile as memories washed over him, so precious for how long he’d gone without them. A chasm opened up in his gut though as his thoughts drifted back to his future, and its shaky foundations- hell, it didn’t even have foundations to be built upon. All Richie had was an email from his manager and the knowledge that Eddie must hate him. The thought of moving on with his life without Eddie by his side somehow seemed so improbable, so completely terrifying that Richie’s chest seized considering it. He wondered angrily where his conviction he’d had just over a month ago had gone. When he’d been so ready to keep lumbering onward. Maybe he had succeeded simply through lack of foresight. By waking up each new morning with a heavy despair in his chest and starting his day by pushing it down, down, down, before he could find the curiosity to examine it. By busying himself with distraction after distraction.

He wondered why his patented technique wasn’t working now.

Eddie had stepped into Richie’s apartment and scrubbed it until it sparkled and he must have done something to Richie himself as well. It was like the moment Eddie had stepped back into his life he’d swept away all of his previous coping mechanisms. Richie felt a wave of irrational anger suddenly. Anger at Eddie for throwing his life off its axis by his mere presence, at himself for growing comfortable with it so damn quick that he’d tricked himself into believing it was permanent.

Richie stewed in his tumultuous emotions in the darkened living room of Mike’s Florida home with nothing to distract him from his circling thoughts and growing loneliness except the obnoxious singing of the swamp insects that inhabited the area.

“It’s not a swamp.” Mike said, shaking his head and fixing Richie with a tired look.

“Listen, if it looks like a duck and quacks like a-”

“It’s a floodplain.”

“It smells like shit and is full of fucking snakes and gators Mikey.” Richie argued sometime during the next afternoon.

He’d gotten a somewhat fuzzy photo of a snake curled up next to a tree by the water and had uploaded it to his Twitter account with a “ Get out of my swamp!” caption and had been arguing with Mike on and off ever since. Honestly Richie had been on a roll with creating a new Twitter, uploading mostly photos and quips but he wasn't really in the mind to be too serious while on the platform. His manager was still thrilled.

“What is with you and the alligators?” Mike questioned with a shake of his head, “You haven’t seen one since you got here and you’re still somehow obsessed.”

“Do you know how old those things are Mike? They are nature's perfect killing machine. Evolution fucking stopped cause it got it right on like the first go, it just just paused long enough to make them a little smaller. They were here before us and will probably outlive us.”

“Eddie tell ya all that?”

Richie scoffed and made a bit of looking awfully offended. Mike laughed so he counted it as a win. Sort of.

“...speaking of-” Mike began.

Richie’s gazer darted to Mike, eyes narrowed.“He called this morning.” Mike continued.

Richie felt his heart rocket into his throat and his stomach drop into his gut so quickly he had to swallow down the urge to dry heave onto the sand.

“What?”

“He’s looking for you. Did you honestly not tell him where you were going?”

“You didn’t tell him, did you?” Richie gasped.

“Hey now- calm down Richie. He just sounded really worried.”

“Did you tell him?” Richie demanded. Mike sighed then replied, “I told him I’d get you to call if you popped up.”

Richie’s eyes narrowed but he wasn’t such a dick that he would call Mike out for lying without proof. “I can’t face him right now.”

“Why not? I mean, it sounds like you have a lot to talk about.”

“Nope.”

“I saw the video.”

“Oh for fucks sake!” Richie threw his arms up, “Isn’t privacy a thing anymore?”

“You live streamed the show Rich, I don’t think privacy was a concern at the time.”

Richie folded his arms and scowled.

“Listen, just, call Eddie. Before he drives Stan and Bill crazy.”

That made Richie pause, “Stan and Bill?”

“If you would go into the group chat instead of hiding you’d know what I mean.”

“The moment I go on everyone will be able to see, including Eddie, so.” Richie shrugged, “No group chat.”

“Full offense, bud, but you’re treating this whole thing like a child would.You won’t be able to avoid Eddie forever.”

“Watch me.” Richie muttered, knowing full well that he was only reaffirming Mike’s accusations. Mike rolled his eyes but seemed to give up the argument and left the porch to retreat back inside to let Richie mope in peace. Not long later Richie heard the shrill ring of Mike's home phone. Why the man bothered to have a home phone instead of working off a cellphone like a normal person Richie would never know, regardless, he couldn't pick up what was said from where he sat. A few minutes later Mike was back out on the porch.

"I'm going into town for a bit. Got some errands to run. Why don't you relax and think about what I said? Maybe call Stan." Mike suggested, shuffling his feet a little awkwardly.

Richie took in the man's tense posture and shifting eyes. Mike was usually the type to stand strong, make eye contact as he spoke. Richie started to feel a little bad, thinking perhaps he'd been a bit too much of an ass today.

"Sure, okay." He said agreeably in an effort to make up for his earlier prickliness.

"Need me to pick you up anything?" Mike asked as he circled around his truck.

"No," Richie said, already feeling like he'd put Mike out enough for crashing at his abode for so long.

Mike shrugged and tossed his keys with almost a nervous energy before nodding and saying "Alright, well, I'll just, uh, be going then."

Richie nodded and waved him away, "if I'm not here by the time you get back, assume the gators got me."

Mike huffed but there was a smile on his face as he hopped into the cab of the truck and started it up. He waved to Richie again as he circled around and started down the long drive to the main road. Richie was bored by then end of the hour. There was very little to do while in the boonies that didn't run the risk of being eaten by the local wildlife, especially without Mike there to help spot potential risks and watch his back.

Richie wandered about Mike's home, exploring and generally being a nosy little shit. He was able to amuse himself for a good thirty minutes after he found an honest to God banjo tucked away in the attic. He brought it down to the porch ready to strum like mad and make a damn good nuisance of himself when Mike got back. However, as the minutes ticked by Richie's attention wandered and he poked around some more, flipping through Mike's extremely niche and weird collection of books, his notes, examining his bits and bobs. He took pictures of things he found particularly weird and bizarre, he was busy going through his photos and trying to think up anything that might have been considered funny to Tweet about, because that was really a concern now apparently, when Richie finally heard the telltale roar of Mike’s truck engine coming up the drive. He sort of hated the flash of excitement he got from the sound, he was a grown adult who should be in enough control over his life that he didn't rely on others to bring him amusement; of course that being said, if Richie had any semblance of control he wouldn't have even been in Florida, would he?

Richie stood up from the deck chair and raised a hand in greeting when the truck came into view, the banjo resting behind him ready to go. However, as the truck moved closer and the sun reflecting on the glass of the windshield shifted Richie began to become aware that Mike wasn't alone in the cab of the truck. Richie walked off the porch and into the front yard to try and get a better look but it wasn't until Mike was all but pulling onto the property that Richie's eyes locked onto none other than Eddie fucking Kaspbrak glaring daggers at him through the glass.

Now, Richie had experience many terrifying things in his life, the variety of traumas he had locked up would be enough to personally fund some lucky psychologist for years if he felt so inclined to go. So it's with great authority and experience that Richie swears that seeing Eddie fuming in the passenger seat of Mike's god damn car, in fucking Florida, was the second scariest occurrence he had ever witnessed. Only being trumped by the horrifying reality he'd been forced to watch in the deadlights. He knew he must have made one hell of a picture, still slightly hungover, hair unbrushed, jaw dropped and eyes wide. Richie felt frozen in shock at the sight, Eddie, his Eddie in fucking Florida. The truck had barely finished rolling to a stop before the passenger door was being thrown open and Eddie was bursting out of it like a mini tornado of rage.

Richie couldn’t help but note the state Eddie seemed to be in, hair usually perfectly groomed looked knotted and windswept, his skin pale despite having tanned in the LA sun and his eyes looked haggard, dark bruises from sleepless nights weighing heavily, even his usually ironed shirts and slacks looked wrinkled; his rough appearance did little to take away from the bright angry sheen in his eyes as he fixed Richie with a sharp look and began to march over. Richie had known for a long time that there was something seriously wrong with him, what, with his seemingly perfect ability to self destruct at every possible turn, however the point was really hammered into his head when the only thought that seemed to penetrate his shocked and empty brain was ‘My God he’s fucking gorgeous.’

That was until of course Eddie’s sneer picked up a notch and he opened his mouth to let out a scathing,

“You fucker!”

Richie took a giant step back shaking his head eyes fixed so solely on the short angry demon marching up to him that he didn’t even see Mike get out of the truck afterwards.

“I can’t believe you! ” Eddie continued, “Don’t you dare take another step Richard, I swear to God!”

And all at once, all of Richie’s survival instincts were kickstarted back online.

“Nope!” Richie said, voice a little higher pitch in his fear, and he turned and ran.

“RICHIE!”

Richie didn’t turn to look back, he just went for it, dodging past Mike’s small home and straight into the Floridian woods. There wasn’t any logic to his actions, he didn’t even bother to stick to the trail, Richie simply pushed his way through the trees and grasses. He had no destination in mind, just the strong urge to run, much like the one he felt during all of his life's most uncomfortable moments. He ran, and ran, and ran, until he could no longer hear the sounds of Eddie and Mike calling after him. It was only when he felt like his chest was about to explode that he stopped to wheeze against a tree, he clutched at his side as he sputtered pathetically at the ground and silently cursed the decades he’d spent mostly ignoring his physical health.

“Jesus fuck” He grumbled once he’d finally remembered how to properly pull air into his lungs and breathe.

He took a moment to look around only to realize that he had absolutely no idea where he was. Mike had to have, like, neighbors somewhere, right? Richie groaned he knew this was stupid, he had nowhere to go except further into the Florida wilderness and that was one stupid way to die. Sighing, and mentally preparing himself, Richie turned to go back the way he thought he had come from.

He snarled as he pushed his way through the thick bushes and trees grumbling at the sticks that caught the fabric of his clothes and scratched at his skin, he was going to look like he’d come out of a fight with a pissed off alley cat after this shit. God Eddie was going to be so incomprehensibly furious at him. He cried out in victory as he pushed through some particularly thick bushes, only for his cries to turn almost immediately alarmed when the ground under his feet seemed to disappear and sent him careening down a muddy, slick embankment and face first into green tinged waters.

Richie resurfaced with a loud gasp as he flailed and coughed out a mouthful of disgusting water, swearing profusely. He splashed until he was able to finally get his feet somewhat stable on the thick muddy bottom of the riverway he seemed to have fallen into. The water luckily seemed to be slow moving without too much of a current. It was however, quite deep, reaching up to his chest. He glanced around and cursed his luck, the river was narrow but he definitely didn’t recognize it. Which meant he had most definitely been moving in the wrong direction. He cursed again, this stupid shit wouldn’t have happened to him back in LA.

All at once Richie felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as his whole body erupted into a strong shudder that had more to do with instinct than the cool waters. He turned, eyes darting back and forth along the murky water when movement locked his attention to the opposite embankment. Richie felt ice cold terror grip him as he watched a huge alligator pull itself down the muddy shore and slip gracefully into the slow moving water. Panic seized him and he spun around to begin clawing at the shoreline desperately, uselessly, his hands coming away with chunks of mud and grass, doing nothing to pull him out of the water. A noise he wasn’t proud of escaped from his throat as his mind whirled. This was not how he wanted to die, not in some fucking swamp water, not to a fucking alligator and certainly not in fucking Florida.

He pulled himself along the shore trying to get to a narrower portion he could climb up when he heard a splash behind him. Richie didn’t turn to look though everything in him wanted to, but right in front of him was a tree, and Richie wasted no goddamn time pulling himself up. Thinking back, he had no idea how he found the strength to climb all the way into a tree when he could barely make it up two flights of stairs without needing to pause for air, but one moment he was in the water with certain death and the next, he was curled up in the branches looking down. Richie looked over the water and shouted out a relieved cry at the pair of reptilian eyes he could swear were staring at him, no more than ten feet away,

“Yeah, fuck you! Not getting any of this today pal!” Richie laughed and felt himself sag against the scratchy bark, “Now just, go fuck off so I can leave.”

He finished with a grumble. And then waited.

And waited

And-

Richie was going insane, every time he would begin to think that stupid animal had finally buggered off, there would be a ripple in the water or he’d catch sight of a pair of eyes bobbing above the waters surface. He had no way to call for help, his phone abandoned somewhere back on Mike’s porch, and even if he had had it with him Richie wasn't sure the device would have survived his impromptu bath. He had tried calling out for help a few times but had gone completely unanswered. He was totally alone.

Besides from stressful, being stuck in a tree because of a potentially murderous gator was beyond boring and extremely uncomfortable. There was nothing to keep his mind occupied and distracted enough from re-analyzing the series of events that had him stuck here in the first place, and the hot humidity in the air made it so he never really dried off from the water and instead just became more and more itchy and cranky.

As the minutes dragged on into hours, he had taken to singing, badly, to himself when another sound caught his attention. Richie paused his singing to listen, ears perked for anything out of the ordinary. For a moment there was nothing, and then all at once he heard it again. His name, distant but there.

“HEY!” Richie shouted as loud as he could, “OVER HERE!”

Richie felt an intense burst of relief as his cries were immediately answered by another shout of his voice and a barely heard: “ Where?”

“HERE!” He shouted again,

“Richie?!” Mike’s voice.

“BY THE RIVER!” He called out hoping Mike was familiar enough with the land that he knew what that meant.

“ARE YOU HURT?” Eddie’s voice rang out, so much closer.

Eddie.

Richie’s chest tightened but he would willing sit through whatever lecture Eddie had as long as he got away from this stupid- oh god.

“WAIT!” He shouted, “BE CAREFUL! GATOR!”

“WHERE?” Mike again

“RIGHT FUCKING UNDER ME!” Richie yelled glaring spitefully at the large reptile that had decided to make camp on the sand, less than a body's length away from his tree. There was rustling in the undergrowth, and Richie knew they were close,

“You’re close, I can hear you, be careful!”

Moment’s later Mike and Eddie burst through the thick bushes with a swing of a long machete Mike was wielding.

“Jesus, Rich-” Mike cursed when he got a good look at the precarious situation Richie had gotten himself into.

Next to him Eddie wasn't doing much better.

“What the fuck? What the actual fuck Richie! Are you kidding me, are you fucking kidding me? Can you go literally nowhere without pissing shit off? That's a fucking alligator!” Eddie began screeching and pointing.

“I fell into the water!” Richie tried to defend,

“Oh my GOD!”

“Hang tight Richie, I’ll call the animal control or something I guess,” Mike said, taking out his phone.

Even as he did though, Eddie was bending down to pick up a large rock from the ground, eyes wild and half-mad looking. The smaller man grunted as he winded up and threw the huge stone, hitting the alligator right in the side with a thunk.

“FUCK OFF!”

“Eddie! Shit , Stop!” Mike cursed, phone half way to his ear.

Eddie wasn’t listening as he picked up a large branch and threw that next, the gator made a loud hissing noise and thrashed it’s tail to the side, spraying sand into the air. Richie’s jaw dropped at the sight of Eddie attacking a fucking alligator, it honestly would have been the hottest thing he’d ever seen if he wasn’t so instantly terrified that it would end with Eddie dead.

“Eddie, Eddie fucking stop it, I swear to god!” Richie said, even as he began calculating how he could throw himself onto the damn thing if it decided to charge his friends.

Eddie picked up another large stone and threw it, cursing the gator out as it sailed through the air and hit the large beast right in the eye. The animal recoiled and Richie felt his stomach drop thinking that it was going to retaliate for sure and that he was going to have to die to try and stop it, but for once in his miserable life luck seemed to be on his side. The alligator pushed itself quickly away, sliding into the water and making a B-line for the other side of the river.

Eddie barely took the time to breathe before he was yelling at Richie further,“Get down! Get down right now, or I swear to god Richie, I’ll use Mike’s fucking machete to cut the tree down with you in it and leave you to the swamp!”

Richie was only scrambling to obey, and after nearly falling twice, his feet finally touched the ground.

“Phew,” Richie said and whistled, “That was sure an adventure, huh guys? And you said this place wasn’t a swamp, I swear it almost smells as bad as-”

“Beep beep, Richie.” Mike said, looking too exhausted.

Richie’s mouth snapped shut and he felt a little guilty for causing the man so much stress. He sighed as he walked over to the other two,

“Look, I’m-”

“Don’t.” Eddie said, cutting him off.

Richie looked at him and frowned, Eddie appeared more stony faced than he had been since he’d shown up hours before.

“Mike, lead us back.” Eddie demanded.

Mike took a moment to look between the two before he nodded, “Sure, follow close and watch your step.”

The walk back to Mike’s house was spent in mostly weighted silence that had Richie growing increasingly uncomfortable with each step he took. It was of immediate relief when they made it back to the small abode, Richie’s eyes were trained on the door as he made a B-line for it, he couldn’t be out of the open air fast enough, he needed a shower and maybe to sleep for like a week. He carefully wasn’t looking at either Mike or Eddie when he was stopped in his tracks by a hand gripping his sleeve.

“Go on ahead Mike, we’ll be in in a minute.”

Richie gulped nervously as he sent a silent plea for Mike to save him. Mike, though, barely took the time to glance at them before he was nodding and heading into the safety of the house.

Richie took a deep breath and knowing that he couldn’t possibly run anymore turned to face Eddie. Eddie for his part seemed to be working himself up again, there was a deep furrow between his brows and his lips were pressed into a thin line. Richie waited a moment to see if Eddie would speak first, before he decided to just get it over with himself, he had barely parted his lips to speak when the silence of the early evening air was broken.

“Florida Richie? Fucking really?”

Richie’s snapped his mouth shut.

“I can’t believe you just took off like that! You didn’t even text me! Do you have any idea what that was like? You just disappeared! Once I realized you weren’t camping out at Bill’s or Stan’s or-or the others, I freaked! I thought you were fucking dead, man! What the fuck!”

“Wow, breathe Eds.” tried to deflect, noticing just how red Eddie’s face was getting.

“FUCK YOU!” Richie winced and looked to the ground.

There was a beat of silence.

“I looked everywhere for you, I was so worried,” Eddie continued, softer this time, “I even went through your phone numbers and called your manager, but he told me he couldn’t divulge any information about clients and-” Eddie sighed, shaking his head and said, “You can’t ever do this again.”

“I’m sorry,” Richie’s heart was thumping in his chest.

Eddie’s face twisted, “Why the hell did you take off like that?”

“I-”

Richie didn’t even know where to begin, all of the past weeks emotions were battling it out in his chest and abdomen, made somehow even more striking with Eddie standing right in front of him, his fist still clenched around Richie’s sleeve as if he were afraid that Richie would bolt again if he let him go. Eddie was looking up at him, eyes cleared of the anger that had been burning so bright since he’d shown up, he looked confused, worried, and maybe something else that Richie couldn’t quite name. But he was looking at Richie with all of his attention, and god, Richie almost wished he’d never stop, never stop looking at him, holding him, it terrified him how much he wanted Eddie.

He almost cracked a joke, because of course he would, but he held back, swallowing it down at the last moment. The thought of lying to Eddie, was causing him even worse discomfort than he was already in. So, for the first time in a long time Richie decided to be brave.

“I was scared.”

Eddie’s brow creased again.

Richie took a shaking breath, “I was scared and I didn’t- I didn’t know what to do-”

“So you ran to fucking Florida?”

Richie sighed and shot Eddie an annoyed look.

Eddie snapped his mouth closed and motioned for him to continue, “I panicked, and yeah, I ran to fucking Florida because-because even this god damn swamp was less terrifying than going home and having to- having to lose you and-”

“Lose me?” Eddie interrupted again looking impossibly more bewildered.

“You-You saw the show. I fucked up- I know I did but-”

“Did you mean it?” Eddie said, cutting him off again.

“What?”

“In the show, was that- was that some sort of joke to you? Were you jerking me around or did you fucking mean it?”

Richie was sweating, he was sure of it, his wide eyes burned from how much he wanted to just blink, but he was frozen, everything around him seemed to have stopped, his field of vision narrowed down to Eddie. The rest of the world could have evaporated and Richie wouldn’t have known the difference. In the stillness, he knew that the next words out of his mouth were important, more important than anything else he has ever said. He could feel another one of his life’s dominoes tipping.

“Every word.” He whispered, “It wasn’t a joke, I hadn’t even meant to say it, but I did mean it, every damn word. I- I like you Eds, I have for years. Almost as long as I can remember, even when I couldn’t remember- it was always you.”

The silence was deafening. All at once Eddie’s hand which had been holding his sleeve was gone and Richie felt as if his heart was going to shatter. He tried to prepare himself, for the rejection or disgust, but even so he wasn’t sure how he could possibly survive it. Suddenly, he felt hands clench at the collar of his shirt and yanked him off his center of balance, he barely had the mind to stop himself from falling before everything went blank and he died.

Or at least, Richie was assuming that’s what happened because there was no way that Eddie would be kissing him otherwise, he had to have died. It took his brain a second more to realize that no, this was happening, Eddie was kissing him, and that he needed to fucking respond before he ruined it.

Richie brought his hands up, one to grip Eddie’s hip and pull him closer, and the other to gently cup his cheek as he finally began to kiss him back. All at once Richie felt himself settle, all of the turbulence and anxieties that had plagued him for as far back as he could remember finally dissipated, his head felt light as the elation hit him even as the heat coiled in his belly, grounding him. Richie could scarcely believe this was happening, he sighed into the kiss as he felt one of Eddie’s hands trail up to tangle in his curls.

Eddie was the first to pull away, only when the need for oxygen grew too strong. Richie couldn’t keep the smile off his face as Eddie kept his hands on him, leaning up to rest their foreheads together, breathing the same air. Richie opened his eyes, unsure of when they’d even closed, and took in everything he could. The slight flush to Eddie’s cheeks, the small upturn of his lips that hinted at a smile, Richie wanted to kiss him all over again- and then keep kissing him. But before he could, Eddie was backing away.

“God I can’t believe I did that.”

Richie had a brief flash of anxiety as he suddenly worried he was about to lose it all.

“You were practically swimming in that swamp , god you’re filthy! Uhg, no, no more, go inside and shower right now! I’m not kissing you again until you do.”

Richie’s face broke out into a huge grin, he didn’t know it was possible to feel this happy, the suddenness of it felt like getting whiplash.

“But Eds-”

“No, absolutely not! And that’s not my name!”

Richie’s grin grew impossibly large as he opened up his arms and went in for a hug, delighting when Eddie screeched and tried to dodge him. The two of them chased each other up the porch and into the house, Richie giving up the game and instead taking Eddie’s hand in his, his stomach swooping pleasantly when Eddie not only allowed it but gave him a reaffirming squeeze.

Yeah, they still had a lot to talk about but Richie had never felt more excited to do so.

It ends with Richie walking out onto a large stage in LA, his palms sweaty as he smiles and waves at the cheering crowd. There was a nervousness clawing at his chest as he made it to center-stage, but with it also a giddy sort of anticipation. He picked up the microphone and stared out over the audience, not seeing much due to the bright lights shining over him, but still the silhouettes carried a touch of intimidation. He breathes, smile growing as he greets his audience, his voice steady and loud, cheers rise up in accordance and he plants his feet, grounding himself, readying. Yet despite that, the usual pres-show dread that Richie is used to feeling crawl in his stomach is absent, in its stead is a right sort of deliberateness that he’s never felt while walking out in front of a sold out crowd- or any crowd for that matter, not since being picked up decades ago in LA. There’s something peaceful about the steadfastness of his conviction, about knowing however the audience takes this new show will be a drop in the bucket compared to the opinions of the people he’s already shared the script with. Eddie’s approval meant more to him than any of these fuckers combined. So it was easier for him now, more than any other time in his life to recite the words from his script- words he himself had written.

Yes, he was nervous. But he was also resolute as he turned to look into the camera and the audience and say:

“So, my boyfriend moved in recently, like officially and-”

The smile that broadens Richie’s face is more genuine than any one he’d given on stage before as his audience hoots and cheers. Maybe he’d really send that fruit basket he’d been considering over to his publicist, or his manager for convincing him to take to Twitter to improve his fan-base. Fuck it, he’d send his whole team fruit baskets. A thank you to everyone who had been supportive of him, who continued to back him while he figured his shit out. People who gave him the opportunity to stand on stage and feel the pride that ballooned in his chest at each laugh and holler each of his jokes got. Pride was a feeling he’d had very little of in his life, it was hard to grasp when you’d spent most of your life in hiding. There were moments even now, despite everything, that had him instinctively wanting to curl up and slink away, because having pride in oneself is a learned behavior and one Richie was working on still. It got easier though, with every smile from his friends, any and every little touch Eddie blessed him with, and every morning he got to wake up and have Eddie right there next to him- everyday was full of little moments, little opportunities for him to feel so fucking lucky. So, yeah, walking out on that stage was an ending. A metaphorical book closing on a life lived in hiding and in shame- and he wasn’t going to miss a second of it.

Richie was starting a whole new novel, one composed of all those little and big moments worth holding onto, even if they were scary, maybe especially so; because for the first time in as far back as he could remember Richie wasn’t running away. He was pushing forward with the strength of more than just himself, and he was making a conscious decision to finally make his leap of faith, because even if he fell, he had six great people waiting to catch him. Richie pushed onward, because even though this was an ending, it was also the start of something so much greater. -

#IT #reddie #fanfic #mike hanlon #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #stan uris #fanfiction #fandom

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