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cffidelityy · 7 months

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closed starter || @king-of-darkness

Seven years. It had been seven years since the worst day of Sigyn's life. She had lost everything on that ship, and while the pain was as close as it could be to numb now- there were times when the past still haunted her.

Like many of countless others, she had but one to blame for the death of her loved ones: Thanos. The Mad Titan had taken her husband, her son's. . . everything she held dear. It had taken everything in her not to slip into insanity so that she could take part in the fight for revenge, but of course, things did not go according to plan and seemed to only take a turn for the worst with the blip. She and Thor had done their best to try and be there for one another at first, but they eventually slipped into their own bouts of depression after settling in New Asgard. After several years of feeling nothing but sorry for herself and spending most of her days crying, Sigyn eventually threw herself into whatever she could find as a distraction.

She went to the support groups and did her best to help in the village, but it was never quite enough. Nothing could ever fully erase what she had seen. There were times when she could still hear the cracking of her husband's bones when the Titan snapped his neck the screams of her children as they were ripped from her arms, the pleas of people she could not save to heal them. It had been all too much to bear during those five years, and there was many a time in which she planned to take her own life- but never quite got the courage to go through with it as she knew that there were those out there who still needed her.

The only thing that gave her hope was the Ant-Man's plan, one she was still surprised worked in the end despite their losses. It was shortly after that battle that something happened to her that she would have never expected to happen in her wildest dreams. She met someone who somehow managed to help her move on.

It had been shortly after Thor's departure to explore space that she had been invited to study at the Sanctum Sanctorm in New York, and as she had no other ties. . . she took it. It was there that she met one Stephen Strange. While their relationship started out slow. . . He eventually managed to turn her broken world into something whole again.

While she had loved him till his dying breath, Loki had left her scarred in a way she'd never thought would heal. There had been very little left between them when they departed their dying realm and losing him in the way she did, and knowing that this time was permanent, left her utterly lost. If not for Stephen, she did not think she would have ever found her way.

Now, she found herself walking down the streets of New York, two coffees in her hands as a little treat for herself and her lover. However, as she approaches the door to her new home 177A Bleecker Street, she finds herself shell-shocked and the cups are quick to fumble from her grasp. She knew that face anywhere.

"No, no no no no. . . You... You are supposed to be DEAD!"

#v; in another life #kingofdarkness #tw; child death #tw; death #tw; mention of child death #tw; suicidal thoughts #tw; depression #DON'T SAY I DID NOT WARN YOU

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mysticjourneys · 6 months

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Update On Myself

Hello, and I hope you all are having a good day. I know I have been semi-active after my post about quitting. I want to say first that I appreciate all those who gave feedback and reached out. Although some words had various effects on me, I know you all were coming a place of well intent.

The issues I have been going through when it came to my joy in life stemmed more than just writing. It was a question if I could even go on with anything. Before I go on, I want to warn that this will be personal and touch on heavy subject material. This is all subjective and might not matter to some of you, which is why I am putting the details in a readmore.

This is to give you a better understanding of where I am coming from.

TLDR: I am getting better and will make a strong return. It will be slow, though. Working on self-love.

As far back as middle school, I had grown a hatred towards myself. I have made mistakes in my life that had jeopardized my life or my relationships with friends or family. Even though some things are not my fault, I blamed myself for letting things happen or not fixing them. In middle school, it was regrets in losing friends or not doing more. Eventually, it made me form a wall around myself to not get hurt.

In high school, I did make friends, some of whom I still hang to this day. But, I still felt an immense amount of anger. Yes, I only fought when my friends were in trouble, but I still felt like I had a lot of pent-up anger.

When college came, I learned that not everyone would like your ideas. And having dreams to create and express myself, only for no one to notice or care, it made me wonder if something was wrong with me.

Then I fell in love, but it was long distance. I eventually dropped any goals I set for myself to work on getting a house for my now wife and I to live in. I thought the Navy was the quickest option, but it was not. It took away a lot more than it gave, and it was a major regret.

I kept regretting and regretting my choices. My intentions were noble, right? What am I doing wrong? I wasted time in college, I wasted time in Navy, if it's not perfect then what was the point? I am giving it my all but I can't seem to be happy with what I make.

So many times I wanted this feeling to end. I didn't want to be myself anymore.

Being creative, writing, or doing a project allowed me to be someone else. I could be Deku, I could be Chai, I could be anyone. I wanted to be anyone but myself. Even my original characters are people who I wish I was.

Aeon, confident and kind. Maria, smart and gifted. Joanna, brave and strong.

But I didn't see any value for Aiden Copass. Even if I was the creative mind behind it all, if I failed at anything, I failed the image I wanted to be. The dream I wanted to be real.

That's why things were less fun. I never forgave myself for mistakes or perceive that I had qualities. I am in my late twenties now, and I still feel stuck. I thought I could do anything, have my child like wander, by being an adult turns a colorful world in a world with terrifying shades of gray.

I have been seeking therapy, and I have had talks with others to get a perspective on things. Why I am dissatisfied with what I do. I haven't been practicing self-love, I have been harsh on myself because I can't seem to settle for anything less.

If I can't enjoy what I do, how could anyone else?

This eventually made me more prone to violence, wanting to hurt people. But, it wasn't because I didn't want them to look down on me, I wanted to prove myself. I wanted something in life that could reach the ideal life I wanted. When I didn't, I just lashed out.

I didn't enjoy the struggle because I felt I struggled enough. "When is it enough?!" "When will I get my chance?!" "Why isn't it enough?!"

I kept falling in this endless cycle of hatred and crying. Unable to sleep, unable to function, unable to care for myself. And that just made me hate myself even more.

It wasn't until a friend of mine said these words to me that I began to see what I was doing to myself.

"You can't love anyone or anything without loving yourself first. Because all you'll do is reflect the insecurity you have in yourself towards those things."

So, I started to reflect and take my time. To heal and be better. I still want to work on achieving my goals, but I am going to try and approach it with a different mindset.

It won't be instant, and I might fall back again. But, I will get back up and keep trying. No matter how beaten down I am. I only ask that you all be patient with me.... You have no idea how much you all mean to me. This community has been a huge chunk of my life. I made friends, family, and loved ones here....

I love you all.

#tw; self-hate #tw; suicidal thoughts #tw; depression #update #personal

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askmafiabobvelseb · 1 year

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Tw: suicidal thoughts

Sometimes you look at yourself in the mirror and think.. "is this worth it? Is everything I've done, worth it."

#tw; suicidal thoughts #mafia au #bob velseb au #spooky month #spooky month au #art #ask mafia bob velseb #ask the mafia boss #bob vesleb #mafia bob velseb #bob velseb spooky month

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banefultyrant · 3 months

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Ouch. A Young Enver song. // @banefultyrant

Another aspect of him that I will expand on at some point in the near future.

tw; depression, trauma, abuse, mention of suicidal thoughts

#|| ' i hung the traitors by their necks ; i built this dream on blood and sweat ' || { mentality // enver gortash }#|| if it feels good — tastes good — it must be mine || { about // enver gortash }#tw; abuse #tw; trauma #tw; suicidal thoughts #tw; depression

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ssolessurvivor · 8 months

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a drabble nobody asked for

Feng...

Logan's knees give out in the doorway, body falling hard into the structure as he sinks down to the ground. Her beautiful form is now white and red, tainted and lifeless. The locket she wore is shattered, splayed around her like a golden halo. The lights from the alarm gleam off them, adding a soft serenity to the gore surrounding Logan.

Yet again, he's too late.

The radio at his shoulder remains silent as bile burns his throat and unfortunately falls to the disgusting lab floor. It's nothing but dry heaving, making his body shake even more from the added sweat now trickling down his neck, the tears making his face cold. He's running out of time, dehydration and hunger beginning to come up with the loss of his adrenaline.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his forearm, he hauls himself to his feet, suddenly weighing a million pounds. Eyes hone in on the flamethrower contained behind glass, and he shatters it with the butt of his assault rifle. He doesn't sense the slice of glass on his wrist as he grasps the massive thing and slings the strap over his shoulder. Logan doesn't have a sense of reality anymore.

Everything has gone monochrome, his chest feels insurmountably hollow. He staggers over their remains and through the door, catching the frame with his shoulder on the way out into these halls, empty and foreboding.

He has nothing left. Nothing but his chilled spine bearing the weight of a hundred lives, lost. Eyes burn with more tears blinked to spill over, carving tracks in the sweat and blood on his face.

This is your fault. You were supposed to protect them.

"Come out!" His voice sounds raw and broken. It mingles with the alarm still blaring, but it's still there. Begging. Pleading.

Especially her.

"Come and get me you motherfucker!" Feet carry him somewhat sluggishly, getting the flamethrower loaded and ready to fire with a few smooth motions: practiced and confident even in his exhaustion. "I haven't had a chance to die yet! Take me where you took them!"

A strange mix of revenge and hatred keep him going alongside a drowning melancholy, but he keeps shuffling forward, eyes on the swivel. Taking in every shadow and glint of dirty glass. Tears blur his vision before they spill yet again, and he tries to sniff away that copper scent and sick undertone.

"DO IT!" His scream is feral, burning his vocal chords with that primal desperation to die. Nothing gleams at the end of this tunnel he's gone down, no voices of love or memories of family come to him in his darkest hour. Nothing but black and the boom of something dropping behind him, the hairs on the back of his neck standing in an instant with hot air. An acrid stench fills his nostrils now as he turns and faces the thing...the beast. It's at the end of the hall, watching him. He knew it wasn't human, but he hadn't expected something so animalistic, acid dripping from a dislocated jaw.

His breathing quickens before his brain starts to close in on the trauma. The thing runs towards him, and his scream echoes in his ears as he pulls the trigger and lets out a solid stream of flame. He hears something like a cry of pain before a booming roar, and everything goes black with the heat of the fire still burning his forearms.

#v; tbd #tw; death #tw; suicidal thoughts #tw; survivor's guilt #tw; guns #tw; lost love #drabble

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snuffysbox · 6 months

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The canon heart event that made me want to do these comics to begin with 🌧️

#stardew valley #sdv #sdv shane #sdv farmer #nell franklin #comic #artsy stuff #tw suicidal thoughts #stardew comic

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honeypleasejustkillme · 2 years

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suicidal people deserve a space to talk about their suicidal feelings without risking hospitalization/institutionalization or being accused of being manipulative or attention seeking

#world mental health day 2022 :)#remember you all are loved and appreciated :)#everyone with mental health issues are valid and deserve support so if you ever need it don’t hesitate to reach out <3 #actually bpd #bpd #actually mentally ill #bpd problems #actually borderline #bpd fp #bpd shitposting #bpd mood #bpd vent #bpd favorite person #tw sui mention #passive suicide #tw sui thoughts #tw sui vent

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coffinofconfections · 1 year

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人生の減少 [diminishing life] by ᵈᵉᵃᵗʰᵖᵒᵉᵐ

TW; depression, mention of death, suicidal thoughts but not actively suicidal, dissociation

I’ve been so horribly depressed that I’ve been thinking about death a lot. Wondering what’s after all this, what it feels like to die. In the deathdream songs I’ve listened to, there’s a sense that it feels like you’re falling. I wonder if it feels like falling in a dream, but you don’t jerk awake, or maybe you do jerk awake only to be somewhere else.

I’m not actively suicidal really, I don’t have a plan and I don’t really have a desire to act on it, but it’s there in the back of my head as it has been throughout my life since I was 10. I’ve been irritated a lot and my brain goes blank when trying to be social. I can’t think of anything, and trying to be lighthearted or comedic just pisses me off and I withdraw further.

I feel so uncomfortable in my body. For so many reasons. I’m not sleeping well and I’m waking up with tension pain everywhere. I’m staying up later at night, later than I was. My medication that's supposed to help me sleep is suddenly not making me as tired anymore, not until around 3AM when I force myself to go to sleep because my eyes feel heavy even though I can’t get comfortable and I’m not tired really.

I’m slipping back into that feeling of everything not feeling real again. It is what it is, I guess.

#deathpoem #tw; depression #tw; suicidal thoughts #tw; dissociation #venting #personal

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ronkeyroo · 10 months

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its been awhile since i felt this suicidal. I need to call for help, i want to call for help, but at the same time i feel so hollow. like none of this even matters, and neither do i

#negative//#venting//#tw; suicidal thoughts #the fact that time and time again i need to expereince a little bit of relief a little bit of hope or positivity only to see it crumble #right in front of my eyes #i thought it was all behind me #im too tired to go through this again #i want to fade away

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fried-manto · 1 year

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If you are curious, this is how my thought process for fic plots or comic panel making actually starts.

Starts with the climax convo talks.

Sunny breaksdown in front of Mari's grave. "How can i ever forgive myself.. after what i did to you.." Hallucination Mari (Sunny doesnt realise she's a hallucination, he assumes shes real) comes in and touches Sunny's face with her ghostly hands(?), it brings Sunny's attention to her. "You can't," Hallucination Mari smiles softly, "Because you killed me." She leans in and hugs him, "Because you hurt me." "Because i hurt you" (Sunny mimicks what she says) Her tone is warm while her body(?) is cold. "But i can forgive you." Sunny looks at her with hope, "You can?" "Yes, and you can forgive yourself as well." "I could?" "Mhm, you just have to do this one small thing." Mari hops up, the smile forever etched onto her face as she says, "Kill yourself." Sunny is stunted, he blinks, "Huh?" Mari's smile can only grow wider, "Kill yourself, that will make me forgive you." And then so on, i think about what Sunny's responds is what the ending and begining will be, then i write a draft. Then i either start with the comic or the fic.

#mango writes #omori fandom #omori fanfic #tw; suicidal thoughts #tw; suicide threats

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blueskittlesart · 6 months

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Now that you're gone

#*guy who just spent a full month selling 60 pages worth of comics voice* i should write another comic #this is part 1 of 2 btw. i have another one scripted from aryll's pov LOL #anyway. the concept for this has been in my head for like. years. finally decided to actually write it tho lol #the thought of his family after the initial calamity strike makes me crazy. they lost him. but he was already gone.#he was gone the moment he picked up that sword. could they have stopped it? should they have?#would things have ended any differently if they'd tried? or would it only have been worse for him?#ANYWAY. hi everyone new black and white zelda comic from the black and white zelda comic guy #skribbles #botw #loz #legend of zelda #breath of the wild #totk #tears of the kingdom #OH SHIT. TRIGGER WARNINGS #tw gore #tw suicide #tw suicidal ideation #<sorry 4 forgetting at first LMAO

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dumbsuicidalteen · 2 years

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one thing about me is i am not doing so well

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strangersteddierthings · 11 months

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What's Eight Plus Seven?

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five

Prompt from @devious-kitten

Steve had a mild interest in DnD as a freshmen because of a cousin or something. The interest was killed by Eddie being mean since Steve is a jock. Post vecna Eddie finds dust covered DnD handbook Steve explains and Eddie faces a still hurt Steve as a results of his biases

((Half written fic, half rambling about how it would go down. Apologies for the formatting. Also I added more angst than the prompt called for hehe))

Steve has always loved sports. This is a well-known fact. He's played on some sort of sports team from the time he was old enough for his parents to be able to sign him up.

A lesser-known fact is that Steve loves fantasy. Or, at least, he used to. On the playground in elementary school, Steve could often be found playing knights and dragons, and it was anyone's guess if he would be a knight or a dragon on any particular day.

The summer between middle and high school, Steve spent with his grandparents from his mother's side, on the farm they'd retired on in Michigan. A month long stay that he'd shared with his cousins, Amber, Robert, and Christopher. Amber and Robert are twins, four years younger than Steve, and Christopher was two years older and infinitely cooler than anyone else Steve knew.

Christopher was on the varsity basketball team at his high school when he was just a sophomore, captain of the JV football team, president of the chess club, and in a games club.

Christopher was everything Steve wanted to be now that he was going to be in high school. Minus the chess club because

It was during that summer, Steve got to indulge in playing make believe for another summer with his younger cousins, without the judgement of people (his father and peers) who thought he was too old for such things. He also got to learn about make believe for older kids, because Christopher played a game called Dungeons and Dragons with his game club the last month of school before summer break and spent many evenings going over what had happened with Steve as a captive audience.

"I wish I'd brought the books," Christopher had whispered to him one night from the bed, peaking over to look down at Steve in his sleeping bag on the floor, "we could have played."

Steve wishes he'd brought the books, too.

At the end of July, Christopher, Amber, and Robert's parents show up to pick them up, five days before Steve's scheduled flight to Indianapolis. It's a sad goodbye because one summer a year isn't enough with his cousins but they live in Washington. Steve's always jealous their parents drive all the way to pick them up, but a little proud he gets to brag about how he's flown alone since he was seven. No one else in his class can brag about that.

His mom picks him up in Indianapolis and they go back to school shopping while there.

A week later, Steve receives a package from Christopher. Inside Steve finds Advanced Dungeons and Dragons books, three of them, and even though Christopher said nothing about advanced, he's sure he can manage. On the inside cover of the players handbook, Christopher has written:

Hey Steve, I think you'd rock playing a dwarf paladin. Let's play next summer? Christopher 1981

He spends the last three weeks of summer vacation reading the player handbook cover to cover and making a character. It's slow going, because letters don't stay where they're supposed to be on the page (that's a problem he's had his whole life, so he's not surprised but he is determined), and he's never been good at math, so getting the stats down on paper isn't easy. He can't decide what he wants to play, so he makes two characters; an elf magic-user and, of course, a dwarf paladin.

(He's a little disappointed you can't be a dragon.)

Steve's never been one to dread the first day of school, but he's never actually looked forward to it, either. It's just been another day.

Until today.

Today is his first day as a high schooler. And the only people who go to the first day are Freshman, except the upper classman that have volunteered to man the booths for school activities for the last hour of the day. It's supposed to help the Freshman get the lay of the land without being overwhelming and Steve's excited for it. He needs to see if Hawkins High has a games club like Christopher's school does.

Here Steve is, that last hour of school. He's already been to the basketball booth, promising to sign up as soon as the season started, and the swim booth because he's got a pool at his house and has been swimming for as long as he can remember and knows he enjoys it. He also stops by the football booth even though he's never played, or cared much, for it. (Maybe he's trying to emulate Christopher, sue him.). So, the final thing is to see if Hawkins High offers a chess club and a game club.

Steve is delighted to see that, though there is no games club, there is a Dungeons and Dragons club! That delight wavers because of the kid manning the booth. His hair is curly and falls just below his ears, with big brown eyes. Steve hates to think it, but he'd be cute if he didn't look like he wanted to stab Steve.

"Yeah, no, keep walking," says the boy, pulling the flier with meeting information on it out from under Steve's hand, where he'd been attempting to read it.

Steve looks up, brows furrowed in confusion. "I was reading that."

"And I said no. Jocks don't play Dungeons and Dragons."

"I could," Steve says, offended. He squints at the name tag sticker slapped diagonally across the way too big jean vest this guy's wearing. E-d-d-i-e. Eddie.

"Have you ever played?"

"Well... no, but-"

"No buts. Mitch let a jock join last year and that was a nightmare. He could barely read the rule book. And with how you were squinting down at the flier, and then my name tag, you're not going to be much better."

Jokes on Eddie, Steve's already read the rule book. Even if it was slowly. "I can read just fine."

"Can you math, then? What's eight plus seven?"

"What?"

"Simple addition. Eight plus seven. What is it?"

Steve knows simple addition. This is fine. It doesn't matter than he's been put on the spot, and that math is hard for the same reason as reading. He can do this. His hand twitches with wanting to pull it up and use it to keep track. He's faster at math when he can do that, but this jerk is mean mugging him and he just knows if he moves his hand, this guy will mock him the rest of the school year.

Eight plus seven. Ok. Make it easier, get to ten. It takes adding two to the eight to get ten. Ok. Take that two away from the seven now. That makes... five! Ok. Ten plus five is-

"Dude, it's fifteen," Eddie snaps.

"I knew that!"

Scoff. "Right. How about seventeen plus six."

Steve can feel his face turning red with embarrassment but he's not going to let this jackass be right. Round up. It takes three to get seventeen to twenty, so take three away from the six-

"23. Point proven. Go. Away. Go play your jock games and leave me- us alone."

Steve opens his mouth to argue, or maybe plead, that he can do this, and that, more importantly, he wants to do this, but laughter cuts through the air and for the first time, Steve notices the audience that has gathered. Three people are laughing at him, and his inability to do mental math, and it makes Steve snap his jaw shut and swallow.

"Mental math isn't that hard, Steve," one of them, Brant, says, as he elbows the guy next to him.

"Thank you!" Eddie says, "that's what I'm saying."

"Whatever, man, like I'd want to play make believe at this age anyway," Steve mutters and rushes away.

If, two weeks later, Steve watches Kyle trip who he now knows is Eddie 'The Freak' Munson in the bathroom, and drag him into a stall for a swirly, well, no he didn't. He briefly thinks of saying something to stop Kyle, but shoves the words down and instead turns on heel and leaves that bathroom just as the sound of flushing and Eddie yelling start. The thick bathroom door does a good job of muffling the noise and if Steve feels any guilt about that, he shoves that down, too.

Besides, Kyle's the captain of the basketball team and if Steve wants a chance to be on that team, he can't stay anything. It's a well-known fact that Steve likes sports, after all. He's going to stick to that. Screw Eddie Munson and his Dungeons and Dragons club.

Steve will get to play Dungeons and Dragons with Christopher next summer.

Except, halfway through the school year, Steve and his parents quickly board a plane bound for Washington. Turns out being as perfect as Christopher was is hard. Overwhelming.

They arrive the day before the funeral, and fly out right after it. Steve barely has time to mourn before they're shuffling him back to school that Monday.

Christopher died, and with him, so does Steve's desire to be just like him. He quits the football team. He keeps basketball because he does like it, even without Christopher's influence. He can't bring himself to get rid of the Dungeons and Dragons books, but he can't look at them, either. They end up in the downstairs hall closet, forgotten on the shelf.

So, years later, after rising to the top of the food chain (no one was ever going to embarrass him like Eddie Munson had again) and then falling to the bottom (who cares about high school popularity when interdimensional monsters exist) and of course, the years of fighting against said interdimensional monsters before ending it all in spring of '86, Steve finds himself, unwillingly, agreeing to host Hellfire since the school banned the club following the events of spring break.

Damn Dustin Henderson. Steve usually has the backbone to say no but Dustin had to play up 'getting a chance to finally just be kids' and fuck, how was Steve going to say no to that? Despite how quickly his own desire to be a freshman playing Dungeons and Dragon had been squashed, he can't be the one to ruin this for them.

"Thanks for hosting, man," Eddie says when Steve lets him in. He's an hour early but had asked if that was okay. Apparently the dungeon master has a lot of prep to do? Not that Steve would know.

"Sure," Steve says, dismissively, because while Eddie and he went through hell together, and Steve carried his sorry ass out of the Upside Down, Steve can't quite let his guard down around him.

It's funny. In the Upside Down, Eddie had made a point to tell him he's changed, is a 'good dude' now. So, what's funny is how much Eddie is exactly the same person he was five years ago. He was an ass to Steve five years ago, and as far as Steve is concerned, was also an ass to Lucas for wanting to play basketball just this year.

He swears to God, if he hears one negative thing about Lucas tonight, he's punching Eddie unconscious, no matter what the rest of Hellfire will do or say about it.

Eddie's been in his dining room for maybe five minutes before he finds Steve in the living room. Steve's got a movie playing but he couldn't tell you which one. He's not really watching it.

"Do you got a table cloth for that big table? Jeff's got a set of metal dice and I'd feel like a real ass if we scratched it on accident."

Steve takes a deep breath before answering. He hates that Eddie is considerate like this, has been since spring break if Steve's being honest, but he doesn't want to see Eddie's good qualities. So, he waves in the direction of the closet. "Yeah. There should be some in the hall closet there. Help yourself."

"Thanks."

He twists on the couch to watch Eddie cross the room to the closet door, listens as the door creaks opens, hears the quiet, pleased noise Eddie lets out when his eyes land on the stack of table clothes. Steve continues to watch as Eddie just grabs the whole stack and yanks them off the top shelf.

Which means his watching as the stack of non-fabric objects, which must have been half atop the table clothes, also tumble out of the closet, bouncing off various parts of Eddie. It's a bunch of miscellaneous items. However, Steve realizes with horror, the book that bounces off Eddie's head is his copy of the Monster Manual. Eddie has stepped back in surprise (and possibly pain), so the Dungeon Master Guide and the Players Handbook bounce off his torso and leg before landing on the ground.

"Fuck," Eddie curses, before he stares down at what just assaulted him. Steve just stares at Eddie, watching as he slowly comes to comprehend what he's seeing. He watches as Eddie bends down and grabs the Player Handbook, the last thing to fall, from a top the pile. "What the-"

Steve stands, suddenly defensive, but doesn't actually say anything or move closer. He just watches as Eddie examines the book, flipping it from front to back in his hand like the title will change if he does that enough times.

Then, Eddie turns to him, bewildered. "Present for one of the kids? Thought they all had their own copies."

"No."

Eddie flips the book open. Reads the words written in there so many years ago. "Who's Christopher? Wait. 1981? You were playing D&D in 1981?"

"None of your business, and no," Steve says, now kicking into action, stomping up to Eddie and snatching the book from his hands.

Eddie hold his hands up in defense before his eyes turn mischievous. The same glint in them now that was there when Eddie'd leaned into this space in the RV and called him big boy. "Are you lying to me, Stevie? You've played before, haven't you?"

It makes Steve's blood boil. "No. I haven't played!"

"Alright. You could now, you know," Eddie says. And it's the way he says it, all nonchalant and like he's trying to be coy about it- it tips something over inside Steve. A bottle that held his humiliation and hurt from all those years ago.

"Oh, now I'm good enough for D&D? Now I can join? Aren't I too much of a jock for you!?"

"Whoa, what's with the hostility-"

"What's eight plus seven, Eddie!?" Steve snaps. His memory might be shit these days, with all the concussions, but the unfortunate part about Steve is that he always seems to remember the bad. And he remembers Freshman First Day like yesterday. "No? How about seventeen plus six? Come on, mental math isn't hard. Or don't you remember? I'm just a stupid jock too slow on the uptake, or no, what was it you said? It'll be a nightmare to play with me, 'cause I might be barely able to read the rules?"

He watches as Eddie's face morphs from confusion, to understanding and horror. "Holy shit, Steve. That was you- you wanted to join Hellfire-"

"Yeah, and you made it pretty fuckin' clear I didn't belong in it."

"I'm sorry man. I shouldn't have- if I'd known you, I never would have-"

"That's the problem, Eddie!" Steve shouts, waving the book in front of him. "You didn't know me. You looked at me and decided for me that I was going to be a jock and nothing else and then humiliated me in front of other people! You didn't even bother to try to know me. I spent three weeks reading this stupid book cover to cover because I knew I was shit at reading and I still wanted to try anyway."

He sees Eddie puffing up in anger. "Well, I wasn't exactly wrong, was I? You were a jock, a bully even!"

"Yeah, because I was a dumb, hurt kid who decided that it was better to hurt than be hurt. As if you weren't exactly the same that day, lashing out at me first, at my reading ability, and mocking me for not being quick at math. Fuck you, Munson!" Steve walks away, not hearing anything Eddie shouts after him as he sprints up the stairs and shuts himself in his room.

Steve knows he was a dick in high school, and it's not Eddie's fault he was a dick. Steve made choices he's not proud of and no one forced those choice on him. But Eddie doesn't get to throw that back in his face. Not when Eddie made him feel humiliated and stupid on the first goddamn day of high school, long before Steve became mean himself.

#pre-steddie #my fic #prompt #sophomore eddie is a jerk #but only because he thinks steves gonna be a jerk first so hes gotta beat him to it #also steves very mean to eddie in his thoughts but its only his thoughts #tw: minor character death #its an oc tho #tw: suicide implied but not stated

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