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surplus-of-sarcasm · 1 year

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writing request:

IDK JUST SOME ANGST FLUFF THAT ENDS WITH HERO AND VILLIAN CUDDLING ON THR COUCH PLEASE

I need to feel something in this dark world

(OFCOURSE THIS IS JUST A REQUEST YOU CAN CHOOSE TO DO IT OR NOT)

First off, I am truly very sorry this is late. High school and finals are responsible. Also, ty for the request 💙💙, this is right up my alley!

Stars in a Pitch Black Sky

TW: Violence, the agency is toxic, self-depreciation, blood mention

Word count: 1.29 k

Villain kicks Hero’s legs from underneath them, their body slamming into the asphalt. The criminal pins the hero down with their boot, letting it rest on their ribs, earning a soft whimper from them.

They expect resistance, a hand trying to claw at their boot, but they receive nothing. The crime-fighter doesn’t even stir, staying so terribly still to the point that the villain would’ve thought they were dead, had they not heard the exhausted panting.

As though trying to get their attention, Villain slowly increases pressure. Nothing. . .

The hero was normally relentless. Irritatingly so. They never gave their nemesis a chance to recover, their attacks swift, their movements skilled and unpredictable. The villain never wanted to admit that their fighting had the graceful air of a mesmerizing dance. Hero had this fiery passion blazing in their eyes, as though this job was bound to their soul, their legacy inked in with the blood coursing through their veins.

So seeing them like this, letting themselves remain limp under the villain’s foot is definitely unorthodox.

“What is wrong with you?” they ask, strangely frustrated.

“I’m not dead,” the hero replies listlessly.

“Well, you’re as good as like this,” they retort, cocking an eyebrow.

“What if I. . .” they trail off, breathing laboured, “don’t really care?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” the criminal barks. They dig their heel into the crime-fighter’s ribs, resulting in a groan from them. “Fight back!”

At this, the hero finally snaps.

“For what?” they shoot back, forcing the criminal’s shoe off them, finally standing up and slamming their body into the building behind them with so much force that it draws a sharp gasp from the villain.

“To be the agency’s old poster hero? A shiny, little weapon that’s been used so many times, it’s gone dull and rusty?”

“I-but the news is chock full of articles about you. You’re the city’s favourite hero!” they protest.

Their nemesis lets out a sharp, humourless laugh. “The articles – are simply there to sate the public until a brand new hero gets all the spotlight. It’s a performance. The government throws out these ‘heroes’ so that no one questions them.”

Villain’s eyes widened and the hero’s bruising grip on their shoulders softens, as does the diamond-hard gaze.

“I was just some experiment. A coverup. I’m no one’s hero,’ they say softly, their cold fury crumbling to nothing as they worry their bottom lip between their teeth. They let go of the villain, which was sloppy and unprofessional and so unlike the hero.

“You save people. You show up to fight me no matter what,” the villain reasons.

The crime-stopper sucks in a careful, measured breath, as though it was their last. “I only fight you because they tell me to. You’re far from the worst thing out there. The agency just labels anyone with functioning braincells who isn’t their goddamn puppet ‘a threat’. ” Hero snorts inelegantly, but the look in their eyes is anything but amused. Desperate. Broken.

The confession leaves Villain dumbfounded, and their agape jaw quickly snaps shut. They want to say something to soothe their enemy, but they were never one for gentle words and complicated feelings. Because they currently have no one they care about to have any knowledge of. . .basic human emotions, apparently.

Yet here they are, practically itching to find a way to offer their nemesis any comfort they can. “I- the people don’t care about the agency, Hero. Just because they made you feel like your time is over or whatever stupid publicity stunt they’re trying to pull – doesn’t mean it actually applies to you.”

Hero only gives them a wry smile, and it seems to age them decades in matter of instants, even though they’re young, like the villain. Too young. “It was nice feeling like I meant something, even if the affirmations were false. A pretty lie is something to hold on to.”

Villain tilts their chin up, cautiously, as though they are more fragile than glass. “What are you planning on doing now?”

“I,” the hero starts, “I don’t k-know!” And with that, the hand on their jaw started to get wet with the steady flow of tears that they immediately wipe away, their face flushed and their throat burning like acid was forced down it with the shame, the tears tasting like salt on their tongue.

“You can stay with me,” the villain offers, pulling the hero close to them. They flinch violently, letting out a sharp gasp, but they cling onto their greatest enemy like a lifeline.

“Just until you figure things out. My civilian identity arouses no suspicion. I have a legal source of income too.”

“Why?” the hero rasps, pulling away from the embrace, “Why would you help me? Why do you care?” they ask, their form trembling with every step they take.

“Because,” they breathe out carefully, “I care about you,” they realise.

“I have no one to hold on to. No one I know whom I give a damn about. You know me better than people who’ve seen me with my mask off every day.”

And it was true. Because when the hero showed up to all those fights, it almost felt like they were keeping each other company more than anything. Old friends and perfect strangers mixed into one.

Hero takes the risk of believing them. The lesser of two evils, if their intentions prove to be rotten.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♤♤♤~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Villain’s house is spacious, decorated in a way that was both luxuriant and simple. The place smells like expensive. Like exotic wood and potted plants with their fragrant blossoms, like fancy tea and brand new furniture, like the villain themselves: the crisp pages of a book mixed with the criminal’s musky perfume, though they currently smell more like blood and the day’s activities than anything else. But no matter how striking the difference is between their estate and the hero’s practical and brilliantly staid apartment, they both have one major thing in common.

The air reeks of mind-numbing loneliness in both places.

Reluctantly, the criminal rips off their mask, offering the hero a shy smile. Even though their features are somewhat sharp, maybe a little less harsh then the hero’s, but still defined, they look incredibly soft. It makes the city’s saviour wonder how they ever saw them as a menace. They reciprocate, feeling completely exposed as a scar underneath their eye is revealed. The villain’s smile widens to a grin.

“You’re cute.” They trace the shape of their scar with their fingers, and if the hero was blushing a few moments ago, right now they can pass off as a very convincing beetroot.

Moments later, Villain settles themselves on the couch, much too tired for anything else, patting the spot next to them. Hesitantly, Hero joins them.

“What movies do you like?”

“Thrillers,” the hero answers, without missing a beat.

At that, the villains laughs and raises an eyebrow in amusement. “You felt more like a Disney movie kind of person. But I’m into thrillers too.”

“Don’t patronise me,” they chide jokingly.

Villain smirks and reaches for the remote, picking a film neither of them had seen before. They pull the hero into their lap, even though the crime-fighter was the taller of the two. They’re ridiculously light, they note. They need to eat.

Halfway into the movie, Hero still perched on top of their lap, Villain asks them, “I’m getting takeout. Pizza or Chinese? Or something else?”

“Chinese is my favourite. Go for it!’ they chirp excitedly.

Villain’s heart doesn’t melt. It spontaneously combusts. “Do you know how tempting you are to spoil?” they stage-whisper, stroking the hero’s hair.

Hero just laughs softly in response.

Yes, the world gets dark. Hope is a thin thread to cling to, a precarious journey to make. There is a fine line between trust and utter foolishness and mistakes are inevitable, but to avoid everything in fear of them is to avoid living, to be a living body with a dead soul. Because between every wrong choice, there is always a right one, a chance we'd regret not seizing. Because even in the all-consuming darkness of a pitch black sky, the stars never fail to illuminate the night.

Notes: Thought I'd finally answer one of my asks before going back to radio silence for a while!

Tagging for comfort fics: @roblingoblin285

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @addictedsandwhichakii @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @catsarecool00 @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump @shr3ya @crotchgoblin69

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

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yellowlikelemons · 17 days

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What if. Pet that doesn't understand gentleness and only cries and whines in response when you try to care for it? What if the only way you could comfort it would be by hurting it, yanking it by the hair and throwing it around? Would you be horrified? Is it even worth to try to rehabilitate it into normalcy, or would you give in and give it what it wants? Would you be happy with your new toy to hurt and neglect?

#self deprecation tw #t4t nsft #wlw nsft #nb nsft #horrordynamic #butch sub #degradation k1nk #bd/sm pet #bd/sm sadist #bd/sm masochist #bd/sm blog #bd/sm community #hard k1nk #dark k1nk #pain play #abuse k1nk

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lovenpeace-pkmn · 4 days

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hey, uh... for what it's worth? i don't think you should be entrusted with children. not because i think you're bad, but because i think you need time to heal and you'll only fall back into old familiar coping mechanisms if someone shoves you into the caretaker role again. you were a victim too, okay?

Well, it's too fucking late for that, isn't it? She doesn't exactly have anyone else. I know she deserves someone better but I can't just abandon her.

Arcdammit, I should have. donet his somewhere else or just kept my mouth shut she doesn't needt o see any of this. Stupid of me I sshould know better

#connie post #pkmn irl #pokeblogging #pokemon irl #pokeblog rp #daughter tag #ic vent #self deprecation tw

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oflostinfound · 5 months

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(from @autumna-potentia)

"Hax?..." Blake's words broke the quiet tension just like the realization broke the ice in their mind. The similarities were undeniable, even though they hadn't know each other for that long. They wanted to step closer and ask what was happening.

But what if this isn't Hax? What if this is Hax, but this monster was their true nature? What could it be capable of doing?

Cyrus wouldn't let them get closer. It was too dangerous, even if the one before them was Hax - the Hax they knew. Or rather, thought they knew.

"What's happening with you?" They asked, voice unsure but unwavering - to hide the fresh fear and total confusion in their thoughts.

So they stood there, awaiting a response, fingers still clenched around the handle of the revolver hidden in their jacket and thumb ready to pull back the hammer. Even their finger was on the trigger, despite knowing better trigger discipline. The sooner they were able to shoot, the better.

|| 💛 ||: ❝ Witch, w-what are you doing here? ❞ || 💛 ||: ❝ Great, another to disappoint. ❞

The voices speak in unison, one with a tremble, one with a snarl, as they crane their neck to glare and eyes back at them. Back turned, hunched over as claws dug into the ground.

Witch didn't know them well enough yet to have too many negative thoughts flood in about the past. What did flood in were the what ifs, the future that they would have obviously messed up. They had already built the perfect ruse, the mask of the baker. The happy go lucky giant who lived in a small town- living with their friend / sister.

Still, even if they were just starting to become friends...

A snide smile crosses half of their face-

|| 💛 ||: ❝ No- No! Witch, RU- Mmm-! ❞

They turn around, having pressed their palm over the saddened face's mouth.

|| 💛 ||: ❝ Why don't you come closer-❞

@autumna-potentia

#💚 || ask answered #autumnapotentia #💛 || the guardian #💚 || rp #💔 || the guardian's inner demon #body horror tw #self deprecation tw

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battle-subway-ghost · 4 months

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why do people give me things anyways. I djnt deserve it anyways lmfao. give taht shit to somone else. why me

#Gone fishing arc #// queued post #self deprecation tw

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rjhpandapaws · 2 years

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Like a Rose Something will Grow

//TW: Low Self Worth, Self Deprecation, and mild suicidal thought

Link has always been a light sleeper, or at least it feels that way. He's been a light sleeper since he woke up in the Shrine of Resurrection, he doesn't know if the Link he was before that was a light sleeper, and he doesn't care to find out. Since coming back to his house in Hateno it's been worse, the slightest noise will set him awake for the rest of the day. Unless it's raining. The rain reminds him enough of Zora's Domain that he can manage a few hours of rest despite the noise beyond the walls of his house. Which is why he finds himself surprise to be woken up by something despite the heavy spring rain. His ears flick as he resigns himself to being awake and listens for what his mind tells him is a threat. Instead he hears Sidon's voice, "I promise I mean no harm, I am looking for my friend Link. Prince - Queen - Zelda told me he often resides in this town when he isn't traveling." He can't hear Boulson's response over the crack of thunder but shortly there after he hears the bridge creak dangerously. It wasn't meant to carry the weight of anything much larger than a horse. He prayed it wouldn't break as Sidon crossed. That thought was immediately followed by the realization that Sidon had found his house. Found him.

Link hadn't expected him to come looking. When he had gathered his senses and teleported away, he assumed that would be the end of it. Everyone else had moved on without him. Was it so cruel of him to expect the same of Sidon? He sighed and braced himself for the knock that was sure to come to his door. Sidon was never good at letting him sleep, but it never comes. Well not at least until the sun is well over the horizon. "Link, I know you're here. Your horse is in the yard." Sidon's voice has a hitch of, something, to it. "I just want to talk. Apologize, actually, for my outburst at the river. Please let me in." Link rolls out of bed, might as well get this over with. Sidon will apologize for reacting to his sadness, remind him that he is a hero, and over a place to stay if he needs one in the same strained way everyone else has with the hopes Link never takes them up on it. He won't of course, he has this house and it's nice enough, and sometimes it even rains enough for him to sleep.

When he opens the door Sidon is crouched almost comically to fit in the frame. Link steps aside and gestures for him to enter. It would be better for Sidon if they had this conversation outside, he wouldn't have to bend uncomfortably; but Link would rather not have the whole town witness his weakness. Sidon takes a seat on the floor once Link has closed the door, he's less at risk of bashing his head on the ceiling like this. Worry pinches his brow as he looks Link over. And Link pretends not to notice. He knows how he looks. His hair is in a loose bun and uncombed, he's in an old shirt that's seen much better days, and pants that are in the same state. He's got dark circles and he hasn't been eating enough. He knows this already. "You look unwell my friend." The gentleness of Sidon's voice threatens to pull him apart at the seams.

'I'm Fine.' He signs sharply, but it doesn't matter because Sidon's eyes have landed on his sister's spear mounted safely on the wall. Unused since it was gifted to him. "You are not fine." Right, Sidon had a wide field of vision, "I won't ask if you don't want to tell me, but I cannot leave you on your own while you are like this." 'You Should.' He replies dryly, 'You Have Better Things To Worry Over.' Sidon bares his teeth, and Link knows he's crossed a line, but as soon as the anger is shown it gets buried, "Let me decide what is worth my worry Link." There's a coolness to his words that keeps Link's hands firmly at his sides, "I wanted to apologize for the scene I made at the river, it was rather undignified of me to declare I still needed you when you've had so little time to recover. I am sorry I made you feel like you had to hide from me." 'Not From You.' Link signs carefully, 'I'm Just A Coward.' Sidon opens his mouth but Link beats him to it, 'Don't.' He signs sharply, 'I Do Not Want Praise. I'm Not The Hero, He Died In The Castle. I Am Just Link. I Am Afraid.' He paused, 'Let Me.'

Zora can't cry, not physically at least, Link isn't sure why or how he knows that, but he does; despite this Sidon looks like he's ready to shed heavy tears at Link's words. He closes his eyes for a long moment and Link watches him collect himself. When his amber eyes open again there is a distance to them that hurts Link more than Ganon or any of his blights had. "If that's what you want." Sidon says quietly, "I will be out keeping watch until you are ready to reach out." He struggles with the door for a moment, his large claws are too big for the handle, but once he has it open he's out quickly enough that someone might have thought he'd been burned. In a way, Link supposed he had. He settles in the pond as promised and the door closes between them. Link lets it.

He loses count of the days eventually. Link catches another glimpse of him through the loft window and sighs quietly. Of course he hasn't left. On some level Link knew he wouldn't. Not until he knew Link was well. Guard sleep, Sidon had called it once. It was a common practice among Zora who were particularly close. One would guard the sleeping pool of another until they recovered. Be it from illness, injury, or low mood. He should have been honored that Sidon cared enough to do this for him. Except Link couldn't see himself coming out of this anytime soon, and that pond was far too small for Sidon. There wasn't much to come out of, there wasn't much of anything. He'd saved the world. There was nothing left for him to do except wait for any one of the deaths he had cheated to come back for him. Sidon didn't need him, despite his outburst at the river. He was strong and had his whole life ahead of him. He could get through this. He just needed to let Link go, like everyone else had.

By the time spring had turned into a sweltering summer, Link couldn't look outside without feeling some form of guilt. This weather was far too warm for Sidon, this much time in it had to be bad for his health. Still Link waited until he was properly asleep before leaving the house. He'd made ice pillars with the slate and put them on either end of the pond. The chill it seemed was enough to wake Sidon. He spotted Link in a matter of moments and gave a weak smile, "You're here." Link wasn't sure how to respond to the weigh of relief in his voice, and pulled up the warp screen on the tablet. Sidon was faster and grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the water. "No running this time." He took the tablet and set it on one of the pillars out of Link's reach, "I've done my waiting and we need to talk."

'Then Talk.' He signs flatly. "Why do you hate me? If it wasn't the river then why?" He lets go of Link if only to clench his fists, "I don't understand, I've given you space, and my words, nothing seems right." 'You Don't Want Me.' Link signs, all his old anger bubbling over, 'You Want Champion. Hylian Hero. You Want Savior, Dear Friend. You Do Not Want Link.' A sob rattles up between them and Link isn't sure who it came from, 'I Am Not Hero. I Am A Corpse With Too Much Time Left.' Sidon is quiet, truly quiet for a very long time, and Link learns from his silence, that it's him that's crying. He curls in on himself as if that would be all it took to hide this from Sidon. "No, Link... I never meant to make you feel that way." Sidon says and it's barely above a whisper, "I thought.... I'm not friends with the Hero of Time. I'm friends with a ridiculous little Hylian who doesn't sleep enough even for the dead, and solves most of his problems by setting them on fire. I'm friends with someone who's still learning who he is, and one of those things needs to be how dear he is to me. My hands are full enough with him that I wouldn't have time for whatever hero may come my way. So please don't cry."

Link feels something break, whether its something physical, or just one of his many layers of armor he isn't sure. But he finds himself crashing into Sidon and finally letting go. Sidon, as kind as he is, holds him while he cries and when he's collected himself Sidon gives him back the slate. "Let's head back." He says kindly, "You could use some real sleep, and I have rather missed my resting pool." Link nods before grabbing Sidon's hand. They fade into blue light together and when they arrive in Zora's Domain again, Link almost feels like putting down roots.

#breath of the wild #Breath of the wild fic #Sidon #Link #Sidlink #low self worth tw #self deprecation tw #tw suicidal ideation

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selfshippingquotes · 2 years

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S/I: There is something horribly wrong with me.

F/O: I have a name, you know.

#f/o #self ship #selfship #selfshipping #selfship quotes #f/o x s/i #fictional other #romantic f/o #platonic f/o #familial f/o #tw negativity #negativity tw #cw negativity #negativity cw #self deprecation tw #tw self deprecation #cw self deprecation #self deprecation cw

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bookwormscififan · 2 months

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Loved

Read on AO3!

A/N: Some soft MadMare spice to finish off today. It's short, but it's sweet.

Warnings: Sorta light smut. Self deprecation.

Mare frowned when Mad crawled into bed beside him, pulling on his shirt collar as he curled into Mare’s side, making himself as small as possible. Setting his phone aside, Mare gently placed a hand on Mad’s head, running his fingers through the soft hair in a comforting gesture, frown deepening when Mad just curled tighter into a ball.

“Dear heart,” he began softly, waiting for Mad to stop burrowing into the blankets before continuing. “What’s wrong, love?”

“Nothing,” Mad mumbled, hiding his face in Mare’s side. “Just ignore me. I don’t exist.” That made Mare pause, moving his phone to the bedside table as he turned to face Mad properly.

“You’re right here, darling,” he whispered, brushing Mad’s hair away from his eyes and letting his fingers follow the line of Mad’s jaw around to rest on his collarbone. “You exist everywhere, but especially right here, by my side.”

“I don’t exist,” Mad protested, turning teary eyes on Mare. “Invisible, inconsequential, unimportant. I’m imperfect.”

“You are absolutely perfect,” Mare replied, gently pushing Mad to lay on his back, leaning down to kiss him briefly before moving to map out his freckles, fingers dancing at the hem of his shirt. “Perfect for me, absolutely perfect.”

Slowly he lifted Mad’s shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside before biting at Mad’s jaw, making his way to his favourite place on his collarbone, shifting to suck a dark mark into it. He smirked against Mad’s skin when he gasped, hands moving to his hair and gently tugging.

Mad bit his lip to hold back his sounds as Mare dipped his fingers under the waistband of his boxers, tracing the soft skin where his legs met his hips before moving his hand away, mouth moving down his stomach to brush over his cock before proceeding further to bite at his thighs.

“Mare…” Mad gasped, lifting his hips when Mare started tugging at his boxers, flicking his eyes to meet his gaze before slowly sliding Mad into his mouth, licking and sucking in all the places that had Mad rolling his eyes and pulling Mare’s hair.

It didn’t take long before Mad was gasping, shivering as he felt Mare swallow around him, ensuring he caught everything before licking him clean and moving back to bite and suck at his thighs, squeezing the outsides of them as his mouth worked the inside. Mad gripped the sheets beneath him, lost as the discomfort moved back into pleasure, and he was putty in Mare’s hands when he finally moved back up to kiss him passionately, licking into his mouth and making him taste himself on Mare’s tongue.

“My perfect love,” Mare breathed, pressing his hips against Mad’s and taking them both in his hand, moving slowly as he kissed and bit at Mad’s jaw. “Perfect in every way. My darling fox.” He held Mad’s hips down as his other hand worked them to release, flopping on top of Mad after they’d both ridden out their highs.

“Do you still feel invisible?” Mare asked as he cleaned them up, dancing his fingers up Mad’s stomach to press against the mark on his collarbone.

“I feel loved,” Mad mumbled, eyes glazed over as he lay in bliss, body limp and mind edging on fuzzy. “So loved.” He hummed when Mare chuckled, climbing into the bed and holding him close.

-----------

@iamvegorott @brokentimewatch @dungeon-dragons-dragons

#writing #fanfiction #nwtb fanfiction #madmare #booky's spice shelf #self deprecation tw #was i projecting onto Mad again? yes

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aquaticsoul · 7 months

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Reminders Don't Hurt

What would have been an awful memory quickly becomes a reminder that sometimes people just suck. And sometimes, other people (such as your best friend) suck way less... and those people are the ones to listen to.

I really just wanted to give these boys some soft time. Sielu loves his friend so much.

CW for some swearing, self-deprecation, a jerk of a teacher, light religious implications (one phrase), and an implied bad home situation. Nothing descriptive. Under a cut for length! (Not horrifically long, but not just a couple paragraphs either.)

"Get out," the man states, and the teenager is already near-snarling.

"What for?" he asks, putting the pen in his hand down.

"You know what for. Leave, Sielu. There is no time for your antics today. If you won't treat my class seriously, you won't be in it."

His face feels like it's burning behind his mask, and he doesn't follow the instruction.

"What antics?" the boy persists. "I asked a question."

"There is no way you don't understand this by now. It's simple math. Sydän-"

Eventually, buckets catching water will overflow. Like drops of rain into a bucket under a leak, he has heard this too many times. The bucket is now full and there's nothing that can be done to stop it flooding now.

Sydän this. Your sister that. Endlessly from everyone.

"That's not my fucking name."

Without even waiting for whatever reaction will come from anyone else, he slams the door on his way out of it. Already, his hands are shaking and his eyes are starting to sting. He's not even sure where he's going, but he's certainly not staying in there.

The inevitable lecture from his parents for skipping class and being so bold as to swear at his teacher is better than being minimized again, right?

Besides, it's not like he'll be missed by anyone in that classroom. One of the few classes he has away from her and still it doesn't matter. It's arguably worse without her there to shut it down before it starts.

Obviously she did well enough for the both of them when she had the stupid class this morning anyway. Obviously he is not meant to understand math.

He just doesn't get why he has to be treated like he's stupid for bad marks or asking questions when no one bothers to actually teach him the material because they assume he has the same aptitude for every subject as Sydän.

It's just not fair.

Sielu finally stops at the end of the hall, slumping against the wall until he's sitting on the floor. He supposes this is as good a place as any to become a sniffling mess. It isn't like his math teacher is going to come help.

He's not good enough for that.

The sound of something being placed next to him makes him lift his head from his knees. His bag.

He'd left it.

His head tilts up further. Terälehti.

"Hey, shortstack. Can't run off without your stuff, yeah?"

There's no need for his friend to take off the mask for Sielu to know he's wearing a soft half-smile. It comes with the use of the nickname.

"... Guess not. Doesn't matter," he mumbles, going back to hiding his face. He's heavy-headed so he might as well let his head weigh itself down. "I don't care anymore."

There's silence, then some shuffling as the taller boy settles next to him.

"I'll care about it for you, then. 'Til you feel like you can care again," Terälehti replies. "You've got too much to worry about right now."

"Still less than you, Vihr."

More silence for a moment. It's tense. He doesn't like it.

Terälehti draws in a slow, deep breath. "Not everything's meant to be compared, buddy. Not colors, not people, not suffering. It's alright to lean on me. Celestial Mother knows I lean on you... if you count raiding your house for food as leaning."

"... You haven't done that this week."

"Figured I'd give your poor mom a break."

Another pause, though now it's because he's staring at his friend with all prior worries forgotten. If he hasn't been at their house, where has he been?

Pale hands reach forward to undo the clasps of his bag and dig through it, searching until he can pull out the extra container of berries and the spare muffin he'd packed.

"You've gotta eat, T-"

"It's alright. It's fine. I've been eating. Pauhu finally caught on and decided he was gonna ambush me with food earlier this week. You'd have noticed the smell already if I'd gone sour. I know you. Now back to what happened because you're important."

He deflates, partially with a sigh of relief that Terälehti isn't starving again and partially because he'd been so close to getting out of talking through his own misery.

"Whine all you like, Sielu. But I'm worried. You've been basically storming for months. No getting out of talking to me this time."

"I'm just angry. Nothing to do with you."

"Are you angry because people think you're an idiot or are you angry because people keep comparing you to Sydän? I'm seeing a lot of both."

He puts the container back into his bag, then the muffin carefully on top. The clasps get snapped shut again before he answers.

"Both. I can't learn anything like this."

"No, you can't. I can teach you the math if you want. But... more important, I need you to know I'll be there. For Sielu, who is his own person with his own value and needs the reminder sometimes. I don't say "the twins are my best friends", do I?"

The tension leaves his shoulders. Even if Terälehti doesn't always fully understand, he does a damn good job of validating. He always has. Sielu wishes everyone would see what a blessing it is to know him.

"... No. You say 'shortstack'."

"Exactly. So... there you go. People are mean and they lack the ability to be understanding sometimes. They look right over how they could be hurting someone just because it's not their life. Doesn't make what they say true. It just makes 'em sound really fucking stupid."

There's an arm sliding around his shoulders, tugging him gently closer until his back is pressed comfortably into Terälehti's chest and his head is tucked under the other's chin.

"... Rakastan sinua, Terälehti."

"Minäkin rakastan sinua. Let's get you home. I've got your stuff. I'll stay for dinner if it'll make you worry less."

"Just stay the whole night. It's safer for you and you know it."

#guest muse: terälehti #self deprecation tw #anxiety tw #arc ; sing dear bird (misterica)#happiness in c major ; mun's writing

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