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#it’s angst time baby
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deadsetobsessions · 5 months
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Your name is Tim Drake and you are nine years old.
Today, tomorrow, and soon, you're going to save Robin.
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Tim stares at his reflection on the sink tap. It trembles, along with the plane, as he contemplates his situation.
His face is rounder, now, with unfamiliar baby-fat rounding out the sharp lines he'd come to expect. Even with the subpar reflection, Tim can tell that his dark eyebags are all but gone, replaced with youthful skin.
Magic. He's being quite literal, seeing as he's been tossed into the body of his younger self at the hands of a crazed magician.
He could find a way back... or he could create a completely different timeline by fixing everything that went wrong. It's not like he has anything to go back to, anyways. That crazed magician was actually competent and killed everyone he ever cared about. Tim barely got away with his life. He could go back to save that shell of a world- surrounded by people whose minds were broken beyond magical and medical repair- or stay here, fix his own personal troubles and cut off the magician before he could start with his world domination bullshit.
Well, Tim already has an idea of what he wants. So he begins a list, after having oriented himself.
Save Robin
There's no point trying to convince Bruce that he knows where Jason's being held. So, Tim finds himself on a plane to Ethiopia a day before Jason's meant to die. This was long before Barbara even thought of being Oracle, and the tech is ancient in his hands. In short order, nine year old Tim has a trust fund with millions in it, all siphoned from billionaires like Lex Luthor and his own parents.
Tim toddles back to his seat, after washing his hands because he still can't shake the extra bit of paranoia that came with a missing spleen. Oh. Tim blinks guilelessly at his seat neighbor, smiling like Timothy Drake, Angel of a Son as he reels from the realization that he still has his spleen.
Tim adds another box to his list:
Keep Ra's away from my spleen, creepy bastard.
What else...? Ah, the League of Assassins.
Damian
Tim pauses. Holy crap. Damian's only six right now. Tim moves Damian's box upwards in urgency. Tim might have a mildly antagonistic relationship with his younger brother back then, but he wants baby pictures of his siblings, dammit. He's gonna put that photography expertise to good use if it's the last thing he does.
Watch over Z, Owens, Pru
'They're alive!' His mind screams. Cold rationality slaps the sentimentality down with a quick 'But they won't be if I fail.'
His mind wanders to Dick Grayson. He scowls as something pops up in the back of his head.
Catalina Flores
Contact Nightwing- in space
He's gotta call Dick back from that Teen Titans mission, Jason's gonna need all of the support he's going to get.
Find Cass
Train Steph
Save Duke's family from Venom
Tim taps at that last point. He'll save them. But that might mean Duke might never join their family.
But he'll be happy and Tim... will deal with it. He'll be the only one mourning, anyways. To end on a lighter note, he adds something that he should have done ages ago.
Give Tam a raise.
Tim sighs as he gets out of the airport, the hired escort he found and vetted, delivering him to a predetermined hotel. They think his parents are already inside. He laughs and does not say anything to make them think otherwise. He has so many things to do, Tim laments as he settles down to track the Joker's movements. Here. That's where Jason's being held. Being tortured.
He can, however, knock two things off his list in one go. Tim picks up the burner phone he acquired. He doesn't have time, or else he would have done this sooner and saved them all the trouble.
[RR: Are you in Ethiopia yet?]
[Deathstroke: Payment confirmed. In Ethiopia.]
[RR: Third building by the docks.]
An hour.
[Deathstroke: Confirmed. Target spotted.]
Ten minutes.
[Deathstroke: Target eliminated. Bringing Robin to Safehouse.]
Twenty minutes.
[Deathstroke: Basic first aid applied. Leaving.]
[RR: Secondary payment sent. Confirm?]
[Deathstroke: Confirmed. Pleasure doing business with you.]
Tim sprawls on the king bed. He sighs a breath of relief. He'd check on Jason in person, if he weren't paranoid about leaving traces that would get back to him. Tim's pretty sure that Deathstroke's going to get hunted down in the near future, regardless, so he made sure to add a huge tip on top of the extra fees for burning one of Deathstroke's safe houses and the emergency first aid. He taps into the rudimentary camera Deathstroke had given him the access codes to, to stare at Jason's rising and falling chest. On a further table, the Joker's head laid in a preservation box.
He bypasses all of the security on the Teen Titan's tech to send Dick a message.
[Robin has been retrieved from the Joker. Contact Batman for details.]
Then, he sends Bruce the location of the safe house. Tim spends the rest of the day staring at Jason and watching his father in another timeline break as he huddles close to the broken body of Tim's Robin.
Timothy Drake destroys the burner phone.
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dclovesdanny · 10 days
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DcxDp prompt
I’m feeling angsty, so here’s some angst.
Demon, twins, AU, where Danny did the whole thing where he died for his brother. I think it would be more angsty/dramatic if he died not by Damian’s hand, but by Ra’s for a punishment and just didn’t come out of the Lazarus pit, or if he was poisoned/killed by a traitor of the league, while saving Damian.
Fast-forward to after Damian has joined the bats, They go on a mission to Nanda Parbat. During the fight, Damian ends up being pushed into the water. He braces himself, expecting large amounts of pain.
Instead, he hears his brothers voice telling him that he’ll be OK, and that he is so proud of Damian. Damian can’t open his eyes, but he feels small, pushing him out of the pit. He opens his eyes to a small splash, as everyone is staring at him.
What everyone else sees is Damian falling into the pit, and then the pit stilling, looking like glass. Then a small child with white hair and pit green eyes guides Damian to the surface and then to the side. The farther from the middle of the pit he gets, the more he changes to look older, like Damian. He’s almost completely out of the water, placing Damian on the shore, when a monstrous being rises from the water.Damian is quickly set fully down, and the child wades back into the Lazarus pit, becoming smaller and younger as he gets close to the middle. He takes the other be hand, and they both sink into the water.
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alien-bluez · 3 months
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Lark can't handle nice things, and as he says "always fucks it up."
Drew a scene from this fic here, please please go read it right now!
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 7 months
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We could have had it all...
[First] Prev <–-> Next
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lylikers · 11 months
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some harrows of varying mental states and hairstyles
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sukunas-wife · 8 days
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@krispycupcakepost I’ll probably redo your ask because I ended up melancholic instead of 🤍🤍🤍happy happy happy🤍🤍🤍 but I’m going to post this because I worked hard on it and I hope you guys like it 🤍🥺
7367 words : Fluff:Angst:Comfort it’s the work’s honesty, I cried 1-3 times I was in my feelings 🥺
Warning: Forced marriage mention / Implication of forced pregnancy- just a brief mention, not even that maybe? But I’m putting the warning just in case 🤔 Dramatic Mentions of Sukuna having a snack 💀
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If there was anything that could transcend Time, Pain, Travesty, and hate. It was love.
It’s love that gives some a will to fight, love that inspires others to create unimaginable things, love that transcends ages and can reshape the entire entity of a person. It’s love that sometimes drives a person to live for someone other than themselves.
The way you had cried those years ago when you married your husband after being sold for your Curse Technique. You wanted to marry for love instead you were forced to marry someone who paid for you and you had never met. It was a surprise how happy you could be with him. He was gentle with you, his eyes always held a soft expression when he looked at you. His hand was firm but gentle on your lower back guiding you and keeping you protected by his side when you would accompany him on his outings. That was until the night came when he brought home a “friend”. A shaman. You did your best to stray away from his guest feeling uneasy with just his presence. It raised your skin and left you with a nauseating sensation. You were quick to feature at the moment you could, asking one of the few helpers in the house to tend to them because you were feeling ill. It felt like your afternoon was stretched over days as you waited for your husband to return. Finally the sky faded into night and their voices stopped abruptly. It was quiet for a bit as you sat up expecting your husband’s steps to approach, instead you heard their voice pick up in a short exchange. Then their steps, but they weren’t retreating, they were coming closer until your husband stood in your door, “Y/n, welcome our guest, you may refer to him as Kenjaku.”
—- —- —- —- —-
It was that night that led you to this moment. Your hands running over your stomach, you had a soft smile.
“How are my boys?” You questioned quietly feeling movement and watching as a kick reshaped your stomach briefly. “There’s not much room left for him?” Another kick, “Just a little longer you two, and it’ll be time for you to come.”
That night one of your children had decided he had enough of the squishing and fighting for space. You couldn’t sleep with all the movement and kicking of your stomach. Even your husband who you still wouldn’t allow to touch you as he pleased or speak to you freely and openly as he once did was concerned when he found you looking distressed. Standing outside in the middle of the night, one hand on your lower back the other pressed against your stomach. You could feel him coming before he was near you, “Something’s wrong, one of them isn’t going to make it, or something is happening.” Your husband walked around attempting to put his hand on your stomach. The moment he did all movement stopped, it was always like that. You assumed it was because your children shared your disdain of your husband placing his hands on your stomach. In order to deter him they would stop moving entirely. That wasn’t the case this time, instead they became aggressive, you saw how under the skin two feet were showing kicking repeatedly, it hurt you more this time than any other. You pushed his hand off and the kicking stopped, you could feel slight movement and it stopped. “Nothing is wrong, they seem just as lively as they did before.” You shook your head, “No, something’s wrong, my boys don’t act like that.” Your husband rolled his eyes “and how would you know that?” “BECAUSE I'M THEIR MOTHER.” You snapped at him, “I'M THE ONE WITH THEM, THEY LIVE IN ME, I KNOW HOW IT FEEL TO HAVE THEM BOTH, I KNOW WHEN THEY'RE CONTENT OR DISTRESSED THERES A REASON THEY DON'T KICK WHEN YOU COME AROUND SO WHY WOULD THEY NOW THEY DON'T MOVE THIS MUCH I KNOW SOMETHINGS WRONG YOU WOULDN'T KNOW BECAUSE YOU HAVE YOUR HEAD SO FAR UP THAT SHAMANS ASS YOU CAN'T THIN OR SEE WHEN SOMETHINGS WRONG.” You turned and did your best to get away from him, your time would be up soon, and you knew if there was anything you would hold onto it would be your boys. But the aching feeling in your gut left you unsure of something else. Would they be okay?
—- —- —- —- —-
In and out, the fading of black from the pain as you finally pushed the nurses off of you. You had to get up, you could lay down for this. You felt like the pain was breaking into your ribs threatening to squeeze your heart and snap your spine the longer they tried to hold you down. Your gasps and struggling cries stopped when you were barely managing to stand on weak legs, “my mother.” You tried to swat away a nurse, “BRING HER.” Your mother was a kind woman who protested against your father selling you off, but being his wife she had no say in his actions. She had arrived to be there with you in your moments but the nurses wouldn’t let her in, even now as you turned, screaming at them and raising your hand against one who had put you through hell the last hours, they finally ran to bring in your mother.
She was the woman in your village who was more experienced in assisting in birth, the reason she really wanted to be by your side. She was there quickly, yelling at the nurses for this and that, looking at your state she knew you’d have to birth another way. She brought you to a tub of warm water where you’d have to stand between a squat and kneel. There is no doubt in her mind that if they would have forced you to lay down any longer at birth you wouldn’t have made it, much less your child.
Yet here you are, holding your child tight to your chest and crying your heart out. You didn’t tell your mother you were supposed to have twins, but the silence that fell over the room where you passed your after birth and there was no second child was unsettling leaving your mom perplexed as to why you were crying so hard. “What wrong y/n,” her voice was cautious as she took your child to help you out of the water that was becoming cold. Clothing yourself haphazardly you brought your freshly bundled child with you and your mother to your private chambers and told her everything.
The way you held your child was obvious, you held no resentment against him for the acts of his father, how could someone so small, fragile and innocent be held accountable for the monstrous actions of a man with no humanity.
His little head of pink hair, little fists and pout. Your tears welling up as you brought him closer to kiss his face. Your mother watched on with a melancholy smile, your heart was torn in two without doubt, you loved your child, but you could never again love his father. The tears in her eyes full of sentiment of how she was happy you could find solace in one person in your life. “You will always have a home with me as long as I live y/n, if you need anything or help you know where you can always find me.” Her soft smile eased your troubles lightly, but you knew your distress would rise when your husband and that shaman would come again.
—- —- —- —- —-
“My sweet boy,” you kissed your son's face repeatedly, “Yes you are my sweet boy.” He cooed up at you as you cradled him in your arms walking through the small garden letting him feel the sun. “Oh you’re so happy today, look at your little red eyes they’re just shining like rubies. My pretty little boy, my heaven, my heart, my love.” He cooed louder as one of his hands grazed your face from how close you held him up, kissing his cheek. His coo’s fell silent and his eyes fell to the side with a displeased look. You turned and saw him, the shaman standing under a tree a distance away. You looked at your son, his eyes lingered longer in that direction before they turned to you. He let out a single “eehhh” before he turned his head away in the opposing direction. You hummed, if he was anything it was expressing, smiling at your son you moved him around resting him against your shoulder and chest making sure the small blankets you wrapped him in didn’t come undone. He squirmed in your hold until you placed a hand on his head reassuring his head on your shoulder and he stilled. A single hand taking a tight hold of your robes, a silent plea, ‘don’t let me go’
You kissed the top of his head, “I’ll never let you go, my little Ryo, as long as I’m alive you will always have a home.”
His little eyes closed, his hold on you never faltered even after you made it into your private Chambers. He didn’t let go even after waking up, your husband and his father walked into your room. You didn’t spare a second glance, your son lazily opened his eyes to look at him, closing his eyes once he saw it was the man you avoided constantly. A face scarce in his life.
“How is he?” Your chest rumbled under him, “He’s perfect, he eats well, sleeps perfectly, doesn’t cry at night, he’s expressive, there’s no doubt he’ll be superior to his father.” Your husband sighed, “Y/n..” you didn’t look, “Husband.” The conversation ended there, even if he said your name in a warning tone you didn’t give a damn, he couldn’t hurt you or your child. The Queen of Binding Vows, if he or the shaman laid a malicious hand on your Child it meant you’d give your life for your child’s assuring he and the shaman would die should either of them act. The second was if either of them were to have part in your death you’d sacrifice your humanity and after life to become a curse over your child to assure even after your passing he would never be alone in this world.
You made your husband and that shaman well aware of the first vow, but not the second one. You wanted them to suffer if they raised a hand against you or your child and you would assure it one way or another.
—- —- —- —- —-
You were content sitting on a stone bench outside under the sun having tea with a friend, a woman with pale skin, brown eyes, her hair was white. She was kind to you the day you met her, going out on your own to buy clothes for Ryomen. He was growing fast, you turned your head and she followed your stare, your pink haired brat was smiling maliciously while cornering an emperor's butterfly. You smiled seeing his eye light up when he managed to cage it between his hands quickly tucking it away into a clear jar he had been running around with. There’s no telling what else he had thrown into that jar. He was six, you would know soon if he had a cursed technique. You turned back to your friend with a smile, “Your child is due any day now isn't it?” She smiled, placing a hand on her stomach, “It is, Uraume seems like a suitable name. My husband is sure that girl or boy it’ll take after him in hair. He persists that even if we both have white hair there's no doubt it’ll manage to take the red patch of hair he has.” You smiled, “The same with my little Ryo, pulled everything from his father’s side and I’m the one who had to carry him around.” She laughed as Ryomen came running up to you standing in front of your legs before he laid his upper body and head on your lap. His arms were spread out over both sides of your legs and you smiled down at him, your hands scratching lightly at his scalp brushing his hair back and out of his sweaty face. He huffed, closing his eyes, letting you scratch at his head, “You're going to meet your little friend Uraume soon, Ryo.” He opened an eye to look up at you with a slight pout, “but you said I was the baby.” You smiled leaning over to pull him up to sit in your lap, “I said you were my baby and you always will be” kissing the side of his face he closed his eyes with a small laugh, “Your Auntie here is having her baby.” He leaned back against your chest looking at her with a faint smile, she was always smiling at him when he would look at her. “What are you gonna call it?” He kicked his feet looking down at his Yukata that was dirty from running around. “Uraume, it’s perfect for the season.” Your friend's voice was soft as she spoke looking at your little blessing, the same child known to be called the cursed child, the fallen one. There was a wave of grief in her heart, everyone knew the story of your child, how he ate his twin brother in the womb, how he’s the offspring mix of a man and curses dna planted into your womb. That shameless shaman did nothing to keep any of it concealed.
“Oh…” You let Ryomen go as he squirmed in your hold, “I wanna get something.” He landed on the ground with a thud and started to run off to where he was before, you watched him, heart squeezing at the smile on his face, he looked happy, he was happy. “How’s your husband, I know it’s a difficult situation…” you nodded at your friend’s question before answering “I told him if he wanted a heir he wanted to bond with to find another wife because I would never let him touch me or Ryomen, I also expressed that if he brought another woman into this house he would be paying for me to live in another location with Ryo. He’s so young he understands, since the womb it’s like he detested his father's presence. As a baby he’d open his eyes to look at him and close them once he saw who he was. He’s never called for him or asked about him. Even the few times I ask if he wants to go with his father he’ll hold onto me tight and refuse to let go. I’d say it’s obvious how he feels about him. As for my husband, aside from coming home from work all he does is sit and drink in the foyer. He never drinks himself under, but he’s not drinking just to enjoy it either. Everyday I beg that it’s his conscience weighing down on him heavier with every year that passes. His family lineage won’t end here I know that much.”
She nodded, patting her stomach, it thrummed under her hand, “I see.”
“I GOT YOU A BUG” Ryomen came running back with the lidded glass jar, Inside was the monarch butterfly and a cocoon on a stick. You took the jar from him and set it on the table, “It’s beautiful Ryo, I Love it.” He stood there proud, his chest puffed out. “Come sit down, you look like you could use a sweet.” He perked up more with a smile rushing to climb onto the bench next to you peeking over the table to see what he could eat.
—- —- —- —- —-
It wasn’t long until Ryomen's 7th birthday, you were excited, even thoughtful, of maybe, possibly letting your husband congratulate Ryomen if he had a technique. Said child was currently curled up to your chest sleeping, holding onto a little tiger plush you had given him for his last birthday. That was until he started whining in his sleep as shuffling around. Thinking it was a nightmare you sat up pulling him into your lap coddling him and pulling his robes open for the cool night air to hit his burning skin. He pressed his head against your neck and you could feel the hot tears as he let out a small cry squirming and curling in on himself. You rubbed your hand up and down his back, “Ryo, are you okay? Ryo,” you kept calling his name quietly as he cried, doing your best to cradle him and rock him. He cried squirming more and it wasn’t until you heard the horrid sounds of bones cracking and he let out louder cries against your neck his little hands letting his tiger fall as his small nails dug into your skin and robe. You held him tighter in panic standing up and trying to get an idea of what you should do, he threw himself back in your arms, back arching and you could see mounds forming under his arms on the sides of his ribs. “That damn curse hurting my son long after.” You rushed around your room calling for a servant ordering an ice bath as you wrapped him in a thin sheet rushing to the bathroom. He cried louder against you and you looked at him, dark marks forming over his skin, and you watched pained as the skin on his sides started to stretch. Your heart and brain were begging one another to make sense of the situation, an ice bath to numb the pain, but you didn’t want to let him go, you couldn’t even if you wanted to with the way he was holding on to you. You stood there doing your best to comfort him in his screams of agony to the point he bit into your shoulder from trying to not scream and resist the pain. The servant tried to take him from you, you told her no and sat both yourself and Ryomen in the cold water. He laid against your chest crying and screaming, as you swaddled his arms in the thin sheet to keep him from thrashing around. You sank down to hold both of you to neck level, your bones were shivering as his cries quieted down to whimpers, his tears were still hot against your skin and he could only gasp and cry out silently. One arm wrapped around him to hold him steady, the other on the back of his head to keep his head steady, you kissed his head and he’d cry. You had to close your eyes when his back arched one last time and red seeped through the thin sheet into the water, you leaned your head back letting out a silent breath as you stared up at the wooden ceiling. “Please,” your voice cracked and your own tears started to fall, your nose starting to become stuffy as you cried in silent distress, “Please don’t take him from me.” You held your breath when he stilled against you, his head knocking against your collar bone, you closed your eyes preparing for the worst, only to see tears in his eyes. Newly formed slits under his eyes, opened revealing a second set of red iris. Black marks on his face started to solidify creating intricate design. You slowly started to get up, being careful not to shake your son around as you started your walk to his room to get him into dried clothes.
It was there when you slowly started to unwrap the linen you saw the new set of arms that were wrapped around his body. You could see clearly where the skin had torn and healed on its own. Your hands grazed his skin carefully and the black marks that were permanently part of his skin. He was born a cursed child, but over everything he was your child and you would love him endlessly. You smiled and leaned over kissing his forehead as his eyes opened, he looked tired as he looked up at you with glossy eyes. A hand reaching up for you. You took his smaller hand in yours squeezing it, “I’m just going to get you new clothes, I won’t leave you okay.” He nodded, his hand slipping from yours. His head fell to the side and he laid there staring off at whatever was in his room, “mommy..” you turned to look back at him over your shoulder. He was just laying there, he wasn’t looking at you, “I love you.” Your worry softened, “I love you Ryo.”
—- —- —- —- —-
“Aw you’re the cutest little thing.” You cooed at your son, he was leaning away from your kisses as you squeezed him and smothered him in love, “stoppp your going to mess up my hair” he pouted running his hands through his hair he second set of arms in fists resting against his hips in such a manner.
You hummed, turning your back to him and crossing your arms , “Fine then, when you look for me I won’t be there when you need me.” He scoffed, eyes falling the edge of his eyes in a bored expression as he tilted his head. “I’m not a baby to fall for your tricks mom.” He turned to look at you to see you had already started to walk away, he pouted and ran after grumbling some as he pulled your arm free wrapping it over his shoulders, “You’re such a dramatic woman.” You hummed not looking at him, he stared up at you as you both kept walking, “I have the feeling that’s the only thing you pulled from me.” Flicking your head to the side you didn’t look at him as he leaned into your side walking with you to who knows where. “Where’s your husband?” Your eyes scanned over the house, “I’m not sure and I’m not interested either.” He hummed with a smile until you both made it outside. The land was covered in snow, tree blossoms vibrant against the pale snow. “Your birthday is coming soon, how should we celebrate?” He slipped from under your arm wandering off into the snow, it crunched under his steps as he walked around to a blossomed tree, you watched, his face was pensive as he acted on muscle memory snapping a tree branch and bringing it back to you. He laid it on the table where you would usually sit with tea and talk to him about whatever he asked. Advice on his technique explaining your own abilities and hoping to help him understand. He walked back, branch in hand, before he stood in front of you, at fifteen he was at your height, you knew he’d be much taller once he fully matured. “I want to go to that place that sells the meat by the plate.” You hummed, “We can do that.” He had a faint smile with slightly upturned eyebrows, he offered you a single blossom and you took it before looking at him and placing it in his hair. He huffed with a pout not resisting your strange displays of affection before you pulled him into a hug kissing his forehead on the mark permanently etched into his skin “My baby.” He smiled as he hugged you back. Closing his eyes he could see the days where he was small and he laid in your chest under the sun.
He remembered clearly as a baby laid in your arms under the sun. The words you’d say, the look on your face, he remembered you saying with you he would always have a home. The warmth of the sun was almost comparable to the warmth of your love. He opened his eyes and it felt like time had passed so fast, his heart ached, fifteen years with you, and it was evident time did not discriminate. He held your tighter tears forming in his eyes, you held him tighter, if there was anything you had learned, it was that you wouldn’t let him go from a hug unless he let go first. It was these moments that made your heart tender. His moments of vulnerability that he would never show. You made sure to hold on extra tight, wiping away his tears and snot, letting him have his time to know everything will be alright. “Promise me you won’t ever leave me alone.” His voice was a broken whisper. He didn’t know it, but at that moment he would be cursing you unintentionally. Your hand on the back of his head, the other rubbing up and down his back. “Ryo,” your voice was soft.
—- —- —- —- —-
You sat alone on that hilltop you had always admired, leaned back and over on a table. One leg crossed over the other as your sighed eyes closed. The sun’s heat bearing down on you as you sipped from your tea. The wind whirled the trees around you, leaves rustling with the symphony or birds. You smiled to yourself, it felt like you were at peace once again. That was until you heard the heavy steps of your son approaching, you sighed placing your tea cup down and turning to him. He wasn’t exactly your little boy anymore. But in your eyes that cheesy smile and small heheh never failed to remind you he was your baby. Before you could speak he sat himself down by the legs of your chair, head leaning back in your lap the same way from when he was ten. The smile reached his eyes when he’d smile sheepishly. There you were brushing his hair back with your fingers, “How’s my baby boy been?” He’d look ahead at the sky or the tree line and ramble on about the day and its events, possible crimes he had committed, or how he was pushing the limit of his technique attempting to find a way to push his domain beyond limits, for it to become limitless.
You knew one day he had accomplished his goal when he had taken on another form. His face changed to make the right side of his face more prominent with a peculiar plate on it, the eyes becoming more prominent. The marking on his body changed also. There was no denying he had doubled in mass, your baby wasn’t a baby, he hadn’t been for a long time.
Still, even when you had heard him referred to as the fallen one. You looked past it all, you knew he was created and born to commit unspeakable acts. But your love for your child was unconditional. Especially when he would come home happy to see you with that boyish grin he had grown up with. You got to see the humanity in him, his expressive side and how he cared for you the older you got. You were his mother, who he loved dearly. The one who raised him, nurtured him, held him in the dark night when night mares would wake him in tears. The one to pick him when he’d fall, wipe his tears away when they began to fall. Brush his hair back and out of the way of his eyes. The one to rub his back and stay up in the night when he’d become sick. You were his mother and you cared for him even after everything his father had done to you, you cared for him and loved him. He saw it fit that he would return that love and care as long as the days stretched.
“Ryomen,” you called him over standing up from your chair with a stretch. He walked over to you from where he was judging Uraume’s cooking. “Let me show you something you might find useful later in life.” You had piqued his interest, “What is it?” You smiled at him, “I’m sure you’ve heard of it but it’ll be better if I explain to you about binding vows.”
—- —- —- —- —-
It was well into your years, you had aged with grace. Your hair had grown long, but you had grown tired of keeping it for all this time. Sukuna had seen the melancholy expression you wore. When he asked why you seemed so sad you expressed how you would need to cut your hair because you felt like you couldn’t keep up with it.
It was then every morning with his four arms, he would use his lightest touch to tend to your hair, brushing it back in the same way you once brushed his. At night he would braid your hair to keep it from tangling and becoming a mess in your way as you slept.
When you expressed your disliking for certain food that caused you to bloat and your stomach to ache, he would have Uraume assure he wouldn’t prepare it again. Finding a substitute that would be gentle on your stomach.
Of Course when winter came and you’d persist he walked on his own in the snow despite your love of the blossoms in the snow he became concerned. He held a hand to you, you gave him a sympathetic look that he would’ve taken as rejection if you hadn’t stepped down the stairs to walk beside him.
His sad eyes followed you as you talked about the blossoms, “Look at that, I suppose it’s time we retire that tree, it seems it won’t blossom again this spring.” You stopped under a tree that was bare, its bark slowly peeling away. You reached a hand up touching one of its branches, it snapped and crumbled under your hand. Your smile was melancholic in your son's eyes. M He knew the day would come when he would have to part ways with you. In his desperation one night he acted in a way even Uraume had advised him against.
He went to visit the Shaman.
—- —- —- —- —-
The night was long as you laid awake with an unsure feeling. The night was unbearable in its heat for it being the cold season. You sat up aggravated, shaking all the blankets off of you. Getting up and moving to a chair in your room you sat there fanning yourself with an embroidered Fan Ryomen had brought you one day. You were restless the entire night, unable to sleep until sunrise when you had left your room coming across Uraume who looked solem. They let you know that Ryomen had left late last night and they weren’t sure where he was going but he advised him to stay with you. That being so you decided you’d like a day to the market, Uraume accompanied you speaking idly with you as you both looked around. “Do you know where he went, Uraume?” Uraume sighed and bowed his head, “I’m not actually sure where Lord Sukuna went. I just knew, when he told me to stay, it wouldn't be for the best whatever he could be doing.”
Uraume was right, after being out all day and returning home you found your son outside in the snow. You watched as the tree’s branches that were crumbling were cut away by his technique. He turned to you holding out a branch that seemed to be blooming with life and pink magnolias. “It will bloom again, all it needs is a little help.” It was a strange sight seeing your big four armed two faced baby boy kneeling by a tree wrapping it with care where he had inserted new branches to give it life. You smiled walking closer, placing your hand on his back, “It will look beautiful Ryo, but it won’t be the same as before.” Rubbing circles on his back he hummed, tying off the last bit of fabric, “Its roots will always be the same no matter how much time passes it knows where it comes from. But, with time everything you see will change from what it once was to something new and different from what it once was.”
His stare hardened on the tree, “You’re not talking about the tree…” his voice had a melancholic waver to it. Your hand rested on his shoulder giving it a squeeze. “If I could help you… would you let me…?” You watched the side of his face, his eyes flickering to be downcast. You stood there in silence, he knew the answer. When he threw away his humanity to become something more, you had become distraught over him. Fretting and worrying to the point that he almost regrets his decision. But now, he didn’t regret throwing away his humanity because of your worry. He regrets it knowing now you’ll leave him alone one day, with no home, and no love. He was your boy, and you loved him, but you knew the time would come when he would be alone in this world to make his own way entirely.
That night when you sat outside on that cold stone bench under the scarce blossoms, you looked up at the stars. The tears in your eyes threatened to fall as you smiled. The cold air biting at your skin made your complexion soft. Uraume was wary of serving you the tea Sukuna had given to be prepared. Yet there stood Uraume placing the cup in front of you with a solemn look. “Is something wrong, Uraume?” Uraume hummed, setting down a few extra things, “I’m not sure entirely.” You motioned for them to sit, they sat. Uraume brought a cup for themself. They wanted to know what was so special about it.
—- —- —- —- —-
Time had passed, you noticed the improvements in your being even as your age progressed. It had you questioning why or more specifically what Sukuna had done. Making your way to the small ball age at the base of the mountain was a mistake. It was then you heard the words being said about your son. Words you knew to be true, you kept to your business looking to see if you could catch sight of him anywhere. Nowhere. You continued to tend to your own business until you ran into someone familiar, Uraume’s mother. She wasn’t the woman you knew before, instead she was the hallowed remains of who she once was. She was hanging by a post, more dead than alive. The sign stated, “All those proven to be an accomplice or in support of Ryomen Sukuna will be tied to the post and left for death to consume them.” The fear had your heart racing as you looked on, her eyes were dead and grey, her head moved slightly in its position, as if she were nodding off between death and life.
“It’s a shame there are humans supporting the curse that’s written to plague and end humanity.” You looked at the man beside you, he was staring at the scene. “The rumour is his mother is still alive and she’s just as ugly a character as he is.”
You wanted to say something but it felt like the words wouldn’t leave you. You sighed looking down causing the man to look at you in interest with a smile.
—- —- —- —- —-
Sukuna was entering the town, shaman and Uraume in tow. He had been communicating with the Shaman about certain things and how to accomplish certain actions.
It was odd when they arrived and the city was quiet. Curiosity had piqued both the Shaman and Sukuna’s interest. In silence they ventured further, until they heard the commotion. “KILL HER SHE DESERVES TO DIE!” An older woman’s voice. “HANG HER LIKE THE LAST WOMAN SHE DESERVES TO SUFFER THE WAY WE HAVE.” “YOU'LL BURN IN HELL FOR THE HELL YOU'VE BROUGHT ON THIS EARTH.” The trio stopped seeing who it was.
You were strung up on a post, arms tied behind you around that post. Your feet kicking to hold your weight up, the blood that was pouring out of your mouth matching the red, purple and dark marks littered on your skin where your robes had been torn, your laugh was as sick as the malicious smile on your face, “All of you,” your back arched as you forced yourself to breathe, “Remember this face,” in arching your back your head tilted to the side as you sputtered out blood, “Because I’ll curse every single one of you for generations and I’ll make you all suffer.” Your feet slipping against the post your weight dropped pulling at the flesh of your shoulders. You were bound to die soon, you wouldn’t suffer like Uraume’s mother who laid on the floor finally dead after they cut her down.
Your head dropped, feeling a stab between your shoulders.
Sukuna could see the brief flicker of sadness in your eyes, you didn't lift your head but he could see the tears slowly started to run. Sukuna could kill them all… he could.. kill them.. all
He was there, in front of you covered in blood. It happened so fast, he was looking up at you, you smiled at him, your eyes softened but the tears didn’t stop. “Ryomen.” Your voice was cheerful despite being near death, infront you wasn’t the 2 faced 4 armed man the world knew as a monster.
In Front of you was your 12 yo boy who was crying reaching up to you for you to hold him and wipe away his tears after some adventure of his went wrong.
Only this time you couldn’t wipe away the tears welling up in his eyes, “…mama…” His voice was just as vulnerable and small as the day he first called out for you. His arms coming up to hold you as he freed you, “You can’t leave me.” You stood there on weak legs, you were tired. He was knelt in front of you, guiding his head to your chest he laid there, his tears falling silently, you placed one of your hands on his head, the other gently rubbing his back, “My little boy is all grown up,” you kissed the top of his head hugging him the best you could, “Remember what I told you, the things you see will change, but your roots will always be the same.” He was trembling in your hold, “aw, my little Ryo.” Resting your head on his as you fell against him to your own knees, “I love you my sweet boy, but it’s time for you to go on your own now.” Your tears hadn’t stopped falling, Ryomen’s tears began to mimic your own. “You can’t leave me…” His voice was soft but it wouldn’t stall your death.
There you fell against him, lifeless eyes with a melancholic smile. It was then that Uraume and Kenjaku approached. Uraume carefully pulled your body from his hands, they would give you a proper burial. Sukuna stood, Kenjaku was amused by the entire situation, “You should alert your father. I'm sure he deserves to know his wife has passed. But now that it’s settled and there’s nothing left to detain you, I’m sure you’ll agree to my plan now won’t you?”
—- —- —- —- —-
500 years had passed, Sukuna everyday had grown to live for himself more and more. Every spring he’d see that tree blossom, and think of your burial under it. You never told him you’d be with him forever, but he begged you to stay and you never did.
He was living in his tyranny, he was unstoppable. Today has been 513 years since you passed, your death was no longer as tragic as it was five centuries ago, but on occasion his thoughts would linger on the memories of laying his head on your lap. When he had fought you over not wanting to shower so you dunked him like a cat and he screamed like you were murdering him. He remembered the night his body had changed, and you held him tight, all that night not once had he seen his father. He remembers when you would make him mad and you’d ask him for a kiss he’d deny it with an angry pout only to be pulled into your hug for you to kiss him all over. He remembered laughing in your hold, how ok his birthdays you’d do anything to make sure he was happy. From taking him to that place that would feed him all he could eat, to letting him choose the colours of his own Yukata. He remembers when you would pick him up throwing him into the air and he’d smile feeling like he would always be this happy. Even when his blood thirst first began he remembered how you would scold him for coming home bruised or wounded, yelling at him and trying to teach him reverse curse technique. He remembers the day you taught him about binding vows, and how he should never trust anyone to make a vow unless he knows the true intentions of that person. You taught him to look for the fine details and loopholes in every technique recorded you could find. He remembered holding your hand, when he was small, and it felt like you would always be there to guide him, to hold his hand and smile at him with those soft eyes, calling him name back home when he would stray too far.
His melancholic attitude was inevitable, and sadly it was the day his vulnerability would be taken advantage of. He was ambushed by sorcerers, and it was as if it triggered something. An Onryo stood behind him, double his size, her eyes were wrapped in bandages, her hair was long and untamed, her nails was grown out into claws and her white yukata was closed tight, taking the sword form her mouth her back arched and she let out a terrifying scream, it was as if she multiple voices. “DONT TOUCH MY SON.” It was the swing of her sword that cut down half of the sorcerers standing and cutting through the earth's surface itself. Even then they held up a good battle, but his fate was sealed.
There was a brief moment in his innate domain where he came face to face with his mother. She smiled at him, “Look at my little Tyrant, all grown up.” He looked at you in disbelief before you remembered something, “SO HELP ME RYOMEN SUKUNA IF YOU LET THAT WOMAN WHO WAS RUNNING AROUND AND HOLDING ON TO YOU NAKED I WILL COME BACK AND TAKE YOU OUT OF THIS WORLD MYSELF HAVE SOME SELF RESPECT I SHOULD GIVE YOU A GOOD ONE RIGHT NOW FOR NOT PUSHING HER OFF OF YOU QU-“ You were cut off as he hugged you. He was no longer in his true form, rather changed to be smaller with two arms and a normal face. You sighed with a smile, placing a hand on his head, never failing to rub his back in comfort, “I missed you too you big man child.” He scoffed but didn’t let go, “You didn’t leave me.” You laughed, “It’s funny now, but how could I when you basically cursed me with your crying and don’t leave me mama.” You mocked him and he rolled his eyes, but he didn’t let go.
“Well it might be a while before I see you again, so let me lend to you my special abilities. A way to create an open domain, a move known as the world slash, and my cursed energy. I’ll be here when you need me.” You kissed the top of his head one final time and he nodded. It was quiet when he mumbled the words “I love you mama…” you smiled at him and you could feel his conscious fading with the colours of this world, “I love you too my little Ryo.”
-
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Tags: @sad-darksoul @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @venus-seeks @bofadeezs @shytastemakerthing @sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @princessluvz @furiousblacktiger @anyaswlrd @shytastemakerthing @alialucille @domainofmarie
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waokevale · 7 months
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What if their conversation before farmworld went differently?
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Basically: Prismo tried to instead smooth talk his way out of the situation (Makes it worse, in a way)
Or: I made an AU where Prismo comes along with Scarab on his mission. Not sure if anyone has made something similar before, if they did, then I swear I haven't heard about it 👐
If not, then I guess enjoy this, and tell me if you'd like to see more of it.
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dragonbee259 · 9 days
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Piping Hot Take For The Newest Episode:
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starry-bi-sky · 2 months
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my body's aching like a knock-down drag-out
and my poor heart is an open wound A Childhood Friends Au snippet that very briefly delves into Danny's life post-accident. CW: Mild Mentions of Blood, Violence, VERY mild gore ig. Danny briefly recalls getting impaled during a fight.
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What they don't tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it can hurt. That it can hurt more than when you were alive. That when you die, the emotions you die with stick with you like a leech that just won't let go. That emotions are ugly little thorns that stick their barbs into you and grow beneath your skin; or, at least, whatever’s left of it. 
Danny is familiar with anger. It kept him warm in Gotham, when his parents weren't home from work and he and Jason were crowding Crime Alley with their presence. It kept him warm in Amity, when the fresh sting of moving was still needling into his heart and he wanted nothing more than to rip and tear into the closest person next to him.
He's familiar with violence. With fights. With death. He's seen people die in Crime Alley probably every day. From overdose, from gunshots, from stab wounds; anything that can kill, rest assured he's seen it. He's familiar with getting his own knuckles rough and bloody when other kids turn and bare their teeth at him and Jason; they're all just starving dogs stuck in a fighting pit, primed and ready to rip out each other's throats. 
Black eyes, stomped hands, bloody noses. You name it; he’s had it. Gotham is paved with the blood of her children, and Danny likes to imagine that when he was born, the doctors handed his mother a file and told her; “Take it. He’s going to need it for his teeth.” 
Danny’s mom (and dad, for that matter) was too busy trying to keep him and Jazz fed, so Danny stole the file from her drawer with Jazz’s help, and did it himself.  
He’s familiar with anger, he thought he was getting better at it these days. It doesn’t come to him as easily as it did before. Of course, that was before Jason died. 
Danny is less familiar with grief. Caring kills and Gotham kills the caring, so Danny cares very little about other people. Or he tries to. But grief hurts. His grief hurts. It hurts too much. It hurts like a bug trying to crawl out of his chest; like a rat chewing a hole through his heart. Some days he wants to dig his hands into his hair and split himself down the middle. Some days he just wants to scream. 
He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. 
He wants the whole city to hear him wailing, some days. It sticks itself in the back of his throat like bile, and Danny is one wrong retch away from letting it loose. It sticks in his lungs like all the tar he’s smoked in since he was nine. It pushes and aches at his temples, in his head, like his brain is trying to swell out of his skull. His thoughts becoming so loud they threaten to commandeer his tongue.  
He has no mouth, but he must scream. 
Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it hurts more than when you were alive. Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it’s violent. That it’s bloody. Or as bloody as it can be when everyone has no blood. 
Another thing they don’t tell you about being dead, is that it’s a lot like Gotham that way.
With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies forget death itself. Blood comes easy, like water, and teeth are encouraged. Bring your own fangs to the fight. Dying is something you can just walk off. 
Danny’s been dead for three months. He can’t say he’s been walking it off easy. He’s perfected the art of turning his nails into claws since his heart was still beating, but he can’t say he’s perfected fighting other ghosts. 
Scrappy is just not enough. 
He feels like he’s back in Gotham again. Back in her death-shroud alleyways, fighting someone bigger than him. But there’s no Jason to watch his back, and Danny has to get himself out of there alone. Or he might just not get up at all. 
Black eyes, busted lips. It’s familiar to him like an old scent, Danny isn’t quite sure that he’s missed it. It’s more familiar than his fights with Dash. 
But there’s no one else who can do it but him. Not Sam, not Tucker. He can’t lose them too. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. His heart can’t take another break, he already feels like he’s going insane. 
With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies fight like death themself. He learns why when Technus puts a street sign through his stomach one day. It pins him to the asphalt like a moth pinned by its wings. 
Danny claws at the metal like how an animal caught in a trap chews off its leg, and every move is blinding pain. He thinks he was howling, but it’s hard to tell. He couldn’t recognize the sound of his voice. 
He bleeds green. It mixes in black with the pitch blackhole in his heart, which throbs and twists and cries in time with his reckless panic. The finger-choking terror of dying again strangles out the air he doesn’t need. His blood evaporates, only to reabsorb into him. It just bleeds out again, cycling like a snake eating its own tail. 
Danny breaks his nails clawing at the metal, and eventually gets it in his mind to pull it out. So he does, and the end drips ectoplasm green as he gets to his feet. In red-vision, Danny sends the sign back with snarling, vicious fervor. The pain is irrelevant in his rage.
Only after the fight does the hole the pole left start to close. Danny doesn’t shift human until it’s gone. Unlike other injuries, a scar stays behind. Ugly; mottled, it aches for a week with every twist and stretch his body makes. He hates it. 
Being dead is agony. 
Every part of him is in pain. Every step, every word he speaks, everything he does, it is prerequisite with pain. The body is temporary, but the soul is forever, and death has carved into it with its freezing green hands and left him with never-ending heartache. It has torn from him and stolen what of him it could, and in return it’s left him with sorrow. 
His pain is his grief, and he’s sobbed in the safety of his room more times than he can count. It’s still as fresh as the day he heard the news of Jason’s death. He knows, instinctively, that it will stay fresh forever. 
In his room, Danny shoves his hands over his mouth and shrieks in whatever, muffled way he can into his pillow. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. He needs to be louder. He needs to be heard. He refuses to be. 
Being dead hurts. 
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kisekiii25 · 1 year
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sins of a past life
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bonus doodle (babygirl is not taking it well–)
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stevie-petey · 5 months
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episode three: the pollywog
Steve looks over at you, not necessarily amused, but flattered nonetheless. “You know my class schedule?” A blush spreads across your face as you look away from him, but Steve still sees it and something flutters in his chest. He’s always thought you were pretty when you blushed, but you’re even prettier when he’s the reason why. “I pay attention,” you dodge.
Summary: you lecture jonathan about daddy issues and then have an intellectual debate about healthy relationships, you play Mr. Love Dr with Steve, nancy and jonathan go on a sick side quest (and actually inform you this time !), meanwhile: you're about to put a leash on your damn brother.
Rating: general, some curing
Warnings: use of y/n, fem!reader, cursing, slight reference to billy being mean and trauma
Words: 6.7k
Before you swing in: hello ! my first day of spring semester is tomorrow, so here's a quick lil chapter for yall :) i wont have a lot of time to update as frequently anymore, but i promise i will continue to update as much as i can <3 in the meantime, enjoy this chapter n have a lovely day my dears !!
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Like most mornings, you’re up and ready before Dustin has even woken up.
“Dustin! C’mon, wake up! Jonathan will be here soon and–” You try to open your brother’s door, but it’s locked. “What the–? Dustin! Hello?”
You begin pounding on his door, trying and failing to get in, and right as you’re about to break the door down, your mom comes in from the kitchen. “Y/N, Dusty has already left.”
“Left? Like, he went to school already?” No way in hell that kid has just decided to get up and ready for school any earlier than he needed to. That kid could sleep thirty hours if given the chance.
“Yup! He left pretty early this morning, said he had a test to study for.” Your mom says as she wanders back towards the kitchen to make her usual cup of coffee.
“Huh,” you’re starting to worry that maybe Dustin is hiding something. First he blocked the door from you last night, now he’s supposedly leaving early for some test? He’s hiding something, you know he is. What worries you, though, is that Dustin hasn’t felt the need to hide anything from you since the whole El fiasco.
Which hadn’t ended well.
As you’re lost in thought, mentally going through Dustin’s actions these last few days, Jonathan walks through your front door, keys in hand.
“Hey, bug. Ready to go?”
“Yeah,” you shake your head to clear any more thoughts. You’ll interrogate Dustin later. “Let me grab my bag, one sec.”
Jonathan nods before he’s attacked by your mom, who pulls him into a hug squeals. “Jonathan!”
“You saw me last night, Mrs. Henderson.” He pats her back awkwardly, mouthing “help me” towards you, but you only laugh and grab your bag from your room.
As soon as you have your stuff, you and Jonathan head out. You sneak some glances at him while he drives, memories from last night crashing back. The party… Well, who could’ve seen any of that coming? Considering how shitty the night turned out, Jonathan looks better at least. However, the bruises on his knuckles make you frown.
“I’m sorry about Billy,” you say, grabbing the bruised hand. His skin is rough against yours, but familiar all the same.
Jonathan gives you an incredulous look. “You’re sorry?”
“Yes…?”
“Bug, no. We aren’t doing this.” He shakes his head, pulling his hand away to run it through his hair. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Billy was being a piece of shit, you needed my help, so I did what any sane person would do.”
You’re silent, not used to having such aggression from Jonathan aimed at you. He’s not necessarily mad at you, but you and him have had some issues in the past about stuff like this. You’ve always apologized for other people’s actions, as if you getting hurt is somehow always your fault. He hates that you do it.
You hate that you always do it. But you can’t help it, it’s almost second nature at this point.
Jonathan, reading your mind, sighs. His anger dissipates and he grabs your hand now, kissing your knuckles softly. “I’m sorry for yelling. I just… You mean the world to me, Y/N. I love you, I will always be there for you. I’d punch Billy a million more times if I needed to, without you ever having to ask me.”
“I know, but–”
“If you feel guilty I will pull this car over and shake your pretty little head until I finally knock some sense into it.”
Finally, you laugh. “Now that’s just dramatic.”
“Do I need to pull over?”
“No,” you raise your hands up in surrender. “I’ll shut up now.”
Jonathan nods his head. “Good, just the way I like it.”
You smack his chest, and he fake screams in pain. He makes a show of it, hunching himself over while he drives and clutches at his chest, which you giggle at. He’s laughing as well, and it’s one of your “normal” moments that have become so few and far between. Just you and Jonathan, giggling in his car early in the morning as you drive to school, your laughter is just enough to keep the two of you warm.
Jonathan’s ladybug ring catches the morning light and the bee wrapped around your neck buzzes against your skin.
But “normal” never lasts long anymore, and you remember Nancy’s drunken eyes from last night and Steve’s loneliness in his voice when he asked you why everyone keeps leaving him. The memories cause your giggles to fade off, the small moment of joy now gone.
Jonathan sees your mood change and, because he’s always on the same page as you, purses his lips. “So… It’s now tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” you sigh, remembering telling him last you’d talk about Steve and Nancy tomorrow. “It’s now tomorrow.”
“Why’d you insist on driving Steve home?”
The question is innocent enough, but you sense that how you answer it could change things. “He was upset.”
“Sure, but you almost bit my head off when I last asked about that guy. Then you wanted to drive him home?” Jonathan keeps his eyes on the road ahead of him, though he clenches his jaw ever so slightly. But you see it. You always see it.
“Bee… I had to, okay? Please, can we just leave it at that?” You don’t want to talk about your fucking feelings with the first boy you’ve ever loved, the boy who doesn’t love you back.
Jonathan swallows, takes another deep breath, and then nods. “I took Nancy home, like Steve asked. She was… Very drunk. Had to carry her into bed.”
“I’m sorry about that, too.”
“You didn’t shove alcohol down her throat.”
“No, but I did encourage her to go to that stupid party while she was fighting with Steve.”
“Steve and Nancy have been fighting?”
Shit. You forgot that Jonathan didn’t know.
“Okay, yes” you say, but right as Jonathan’s eyes light up, you’re quick to backtrack. “But if I tell you anything else, you have to swear to keep it between us. Got it?”
“I won’t say a word.”
You sigh, really hoping you aren’t breaking Nancy’s trust. Technically, she hadn’t asked you to keep your conversation from yesterday private, but… It feels wrong telling Jonathan about it. “Nancy and Steve have been fighting, yes, but not in the way you’d think.”
You’ve arrived at school, so Jonathan quickly parks the car before motioning for you to keep talking. “Go on, I’m curious now.”
“God, you’re a worse gossip than I am. Anyways, she’s mad at Steve for brushing off Barb’s death, in a sense. But also, like… Steve isn’t really brushing off Barb’s death? I think he just wants to help Nancy, those are his intentions, but he doesn’t know how. He thinks dinner dates, going to parties, and spending a lot of time together will get her mind off of things.”
Jonathan scoffs. “Well, babying Nancy won’t help.”
“I know, and you’re right, but Nancy should have expressed this to Steve better, don’t you think? I mean, we don’t know what happened last night, but it seems like she tried drinking away her anger towards him rather than actually talking to him.”
“And how can we know Steve wouldn’t just run away or something? Actually be up for it, be proactive rather than retroactive. It seems like Nancy needs to do something about Barb’s death.”
Frustration builds within you. “And what good does assuming something actually do? Assuming that Steve wouldn’t listen is wholly unfair and honestly, a bit rude. He’s her boyfriend, she can’t just assume he wouldn’t care. Steve has done everything he can to show he cares, that he loves her, so I think Nancy should be the one to voice her feelings and let him know what she needs. What she wants.”
Jonathan looks away. “And what should Nancy want, bug?”
You’re silent.
Somehow, you and Jonathan aren’t fighting about Steve and Nancy anymore.
“I… I don’t know.” You look out the window, watching as students pass by.
After a tense silence, Jonathan tries to crack a joke. “Oh, you’ll laugh at this! Caught Bob sneaking out the house like some shameful teenage boy this morning.”
You turn towards him now. “Why would I laugh at that? I think it’s sweet, your mom seems happy.”
“Sure, but…” Jonathan’s smile falters, not expecting you to be so stoic as a reaction. “He’s kinda a loser, you gotta admit.”
“Jonathan Byers, I literally had to save you from bullies, five times my size, as a girl, when we were twelve.”
“Okay, I didn’t mean it like that–”
“You should be nicer about Bob. He’s a good guy, he actually cares about you, Will, and your mom. After the hell you guys went through with Lonnie, you should be appreciative of Bob.” You’re so angry now, your fists shake with rage. “You have a healthy father figure in your life now, which I would kill to give Dustin, and even if you don’t like him, you’re luckier for it.”
Jonathan is quiet. He’s staring down at his steering wheel in shame, and you feel bad for snapping so suddenly. You aren’t sorry for your anger towards him, his attitude towards Bob has been bothering you for a while. However, it doesn’t mean you have to be a bitch about it just because of your own issues surrounding shitty dads.
“I’m sorry, bee. You have a right to feel uncomfortable about the change, but I just think you should give Bob a chance. I like the guy.” You offer, looking over at your friend tentatively.
“No, you’re right. I know you are, it just takes some getting used to, I guess.” He grabs your hand, gives it a squeeze as if to tell you it’s all good now, and you squeeze his hand back.
“Great drive to school today,” you quip.
Jonathan laughs. “God, I think I had about five heart attacks during those conversations.”
The tension leaves the car. Then, slowly, the warmth creeps back in as you and Jonathan once again start laughing. You’re not sure why you’re even laughing, but you’re happy that you are.
Jonathan walks you to your locker, as he always does, and before he turns to head to his, you notice how quiet it is in the hallway. You look over at Nancy’s locker, which somehow always manages to be near yours every year, and frown when you don’t see her.
“There’s a suspicious lack of Nancy and Steve making out against her locker this morning.” You tell Jonathan.
He looks around and notices you’re right. The two of you share a concerned glance, knowing that their absence can’t mean anything good for the couple.
“Should we go look for them?” He asks, but you’re already heading towards the parking lot to find Steve. “Y/N!”
“Go find Nancy!” You call behind you, speeding up. “I’ll meet you at first period!”
Steve’s car is hard to miss in the parking lot. Hawkins isn’t necessarily a flashy town. No one else besides the Harringtons owns a fancy BMW. You approach the car and spot Steve sitting in the front, his head ducked down as if no one can see his massive red car and easily identify him.
Idiot.
Steve is having a rough week, so he’s spent the last five minutes in his car debating on whether or not he can afford to skip his first class. Reasonably speaking, his dad would kill him. He already has shit grades and he’s missed three college application deadlines. All he has left is Tech. However, his girlfriend told him last night she doesn’t love him and Billy embarrassed him in front of everyone last night.
Plus Nancy left with Jonathan, which everyone saw.
He told him to take her, but still.
Pretty embarrassing.
Yup. Alright. He’s going home.
Steve reaches over for his keys to turn the car on, but before he can, a knock on his window stops him. He looks up, scared Billy will be there, but instead he sees you and he’s not sure if his day just got better or worse.
“Let me in, dingus.” Your voice is light, but still stern, and yeah. Steve’s day just got better.
He unlocks the door and you silently get into the passenger seat. As you get settled in, he thinks about the first time he ever had you in his car. It feels like a lifetime ago, Steve’s heart had been beating wildly taking the risk of offering you a ride.
It had been the start of something, he could feel it.
But then you left him that summer without another word, as if nothing had happened between the two of you. As if Steve hadn’t slowly come to find himself opening up to someone, trusting that you’d let him be whoever he wanted; he could just be Steve around you, not King Steve or even perfect boyfriend Steve.
Now Steve’s hiding out in his car, no longer King Steve or even good fucking boyfriend Steve, and instead of his girlfriend seeking him out to comfort him, it’s you. Because of course it’s you.
“Hey,” you say.
“Hi.”
“You know that senior study hall is inside the school, right?”
Steve looks over at you, not necessarily amused, but flattered nonetheless. “You know my class schedule?”
A blush spreads across your face as you look away from him, but Steve still sees it and something flutters in his chest. He’s always thought you were pretty when you blushed, but you’re even prettier when he’s the reason why.
“I pay attention,” you dodge.
Steve wants to tease you some more, play into the banter he missed the most when the two of you weren’t talking, but his heart isn’t in it. Nancy’s words kept him up all night. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could hear was her telling him that she didn’t love him. After he did everything he possibly could’ve done right, it still hadn’t been enough.
“Did Nancy get home okay?”
You give him a small smile. “Yeah, I just talked to Jonathan about it.”
Relief floods through Steve. At least that’s one thing he hadn’t fucked up last night. “Good… I’m glad then.”
He awkwardly clears his throat and looks away again. He doesn’t know what he’s doing anymore. He feels lost, floating through his morning. Nothing has felt real since yesterday in the library with Nancy, when she had been looking up at him with those eyes he’s always been weak for.
“Any particular reason you’re hiding out in your car?”
Steve lets out a bitter laugh. “You were there last night. You know what happened.”
“Actually, I don’t.” You see the disbelief on Steve’s face and quickly correct yourself. “I mean, I remember you saying something about Nancy but… I don’t want to assume, so…”
Now you’re the one looking away in shame, and Steve watches as you nervously fiddle with your fingers and bite your lip. You’re trying. Though Steve still isn’t sure how to feel about you, how much to test this new compromise between you two, this “friendship”, Steve knows he has to at least try as well.
He takes a deep breath. “Nancy… She isn’t in love with me.”
A beat of silence passes.
“Steve, I mean, are you sure–”
“Pretty fucking sure, Y/N. Unless you think someone telling their boyfriend ‘like we’re in love’ means she’s madly in love with him.”
Another beat of silence passes. Steve can see the pity in your eyes, and he hates it. He fucking hates this, feeling so pathetic and small.
Then, your hand slowly intertwines with his and the anger in Steve’s chest lessens a bit. “I know my words don’t mean anything, but… Nancy not being in love with you has nothing to do with you as a person.”
Something untangles in Steve’s chest; you’ve reassured him of something he hadn’t even known had been his fear. How do you always seem to decipher what he’s feeling before he can?
“How do you know?” Steve has never felt so small before.
You shrug, but there’s a calculated nonchalance to it that he can easily see. “Because I know you. You’re frustratingly charming, Harrington.”
Steve laughs, something he didn’t even know he was able to do anymore. “That’s your takeaway here?”
“Mhm,” you squeeze his hand and Steve has never felt this grounded before by such a small action. “I say you need to talk to Nancy, I mean really talk to her. No more half truths and appeasements. I think she does love you, in her own way, but the circumstances aren’t on your guys’ side. I mean, she went through hell and back last year, Barb’s death anniversary is soon.”
You pause for a moment and frown, which Steve has come to learn means you’re carefully choosing which words to say next. “I want you to know, no, I need you to know, that this has nothing to do with you. Okay?”
Steve wants to believe you, god he really wants to, but even he can see the blaring irony of you telling him that Nancy’s lack of love for him has nothing to do with him personally. You, the girl he came to trust more than anyone else in this awful town, ditched him in the same manner. Steve’s the common denominator there. He’s always the one left behind.
“Look, I appreciate what you’re saying, but the words don’t mean a whole lot coming from you right now,” Steve tells you, and he hates the way your eyes darken, as if guarding yourself from him. “I know we agreed on being friends again, but I just… I need some time.”
You nod, as if you expected something like that from Steve, and he almost wants to just drive away with you in the car and pretend that nothing else exists. Instead, he clears his throat, his tongue feels heavy and his throat threatens to close up, but he forces himself to get the words out. “I want to be alone, please.”
He really doesn’t want to be alone, but his brain is swimming in confusion and you’re still holding his hand and Steve just needs a moment to himself to just breathe.
“Of course,” you tell him, because of course you listen and understand. “You know where to find me, yeah?”
Steve nods. He does.
“Bye, Y/N.”
You give him a small wave in response, close the car door, and then make your way back to the high school.
Steve watches you fade into the distance.
He’s alone again.
Jonathan makes it to first period with only seconds to spare. He throws himself into his seat next to you with panting breaths. Your history teacher, Mrs. Kent, drones through attendance without having noticed anything.
“I couldn’t find Nancy.” Jonathan whispers, before his name is called and he quickly raises his hand and says, “Here.”
You glance at the chalkboard and then flip your textbook to the page scrawled on it. “I found Steve wallowing in his car, alone. Guess he didn’t drive Nancy to school?”
“Seems a bit harsh.”
“May I remind you of the time you threw a jacket at my face and then screamed at me that we aren’t family? All because you felt guilty about taking naked photos of Nancy?”
Jonathan drops his head onto the desk, letting out a groan. “I’m never living that down, am I?”
You keep your eyes on the board, taking a few notes. “Nope.”
Class starts up now, so the topic is left alone. The school day passes on, you and Jonathan separating for your own classes after history is done. The day drags on for a while, though you hear a few whispers in the hall about how Jonathan had taken home a drunk Nancy.
“God, it’s like she loves the attention.” One girl giggles with her friend while you’re at your locker.
Her friend rolls her eyes. “Please, as if anyone would choose Byers over Steve Harrington.”
“I’m more of a Wheeler fan myself,” you tell the girls, not even sparing them a glance. “Now, why don’t we all just shut up and move away from my locker?”
The girls scurry away, fear in their eyes, and you simply shake your head at them. Why is Nancy always the one those girls gossip about? Objectively speaking, Steve has done much more heinous things than getting a ride home from a friend while drunk.
Jonathan kisses your cheek as he walks up from behind you, breaking you from your thoughts. “Hey, bug. Lunch at my car today?”
“Ugh, it’s such a nice day today, I’d love to.” You grab your lunch from your locker. Once you have it, you link your arm through Jonathan’s. “Guide the way, good sir.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Nancy is leaning against Jonathan’s car when you walk outside.
Her shoulders are slouched and you can see the unease on her face. She looks tired, too. A few people walk by her and stare, whispering as they go, and you really hate high schoolers sometimes.
When you make it to Jonathan’s car, Nancy holds her lunch bag up awkwardly. “Can I join you guys?”
“I’m sure we can make some room.” You tell her, which she smiles at.
It takes some adjusting, but eventually the three of you manage to fit on the front of the car. You sit on the roof, your legs dangling off of the side, while Nancy and Jonathan take the front. The early November sun beats down on you three, but the cool breeze makes the sting less painful. It’s a lovely day, all things considered.
You’re nibbling on your sandwich when Nancy exhales deeply and turns to you. “Y/N, you’d always tell me the truth, right?”
“Depends,” you take another bite out of your food. “What is this in reference to?”
“Last night… I don’t remember what I did.”
There’s a certain shame in her eyes that tells you she encountered Steve before retreating to Jonathan’s car. “You spoke to Steve this morning, I take it?”
She looks at you, surprised. “How did you–”
“We talked to him last night.” Jonathan cuts her off, looking between you and Nancy nervously. He’s not sure where you, her, and Steve all fall in regards to each other.
“So, he asked you to take me home?” Nancy faces him now, and you go back to eating.
“Yeah. Yeah, I mean he was upset…” He glances at you briefly before looking back at Nancy. “I mean, he was really upset.”
“I don’t blame him.” You cut in, mouth full of chips you stole from Jonathan.
He sends you glare and keeps talking. “But he was still worried about you, Nance.”
Nancy drops her head down and a part of you feels bad for the quip. She really does look ashamed, but you distinctly remember warning her about this exact thing last year in the school’s shed. She had tried telling you there wasn’t anything between her and Jonathan, and all you could tell her was that Steve didn’t deserve to be lied to or cheated on.
Guess she only kept one end of that bargain.
Jonathan sees that she’s upset and he softens his voice, scooting closer to her. “Hey, you need to cut yourself some slack, okay? People say stupid things when they’re wasted. Things they don’t mean.”
You bite your tongue. Hard. If you allow yourself to speak, you won’t be able to guarantee it’ll be anything nice. Sure, being drunk can influence some words to slip out, but cruelly telling your boyfriend of over a year that you don’t love him is something you can’t defend. Not when Nancy had other chances to tell Steve.
Nancy whips her head up. “Yeah, but that’s the thing. What if I did mean it? All this time, I’ve been trying so hard to pretend like everything’s fine, but it’s not.”
You and Jonathan share a look. He seems more curious, you can feel the anger burning through your eyes.
“No offense, Nance.” You wipe your hands on a napkin and force the girl to look at you. “But this is really something that you should be talking to Steve about. Remember our conversation from last year?”
Nancy looks down again in shame. “You’re right, I know you are, but… I don’t know. I feel like there’s this…” She pauses, trying to figure out how to explain her thoughts, but Jonathan finishes for her.
“Like there’s this weight you’re carrying around with you. All the time. I feel it, too.” He says, then he flicks your leg. “Y/N does as well. She tries to hide it, but I know she feels it as much as I do.”
Now it’s you who turns away, embarrassed and ashamed. Clearly you haven’t been so good at hiding your neverending guilt over Will.
“Yeah, but it’s different for you guys. Will came home.” Nancy says.
You open your mouth to speak, to correct the girl’s horrible viewpoint, but Jonathan surprises you by correcting her himself. “Yeah, he did. But he’s not the same. I try to be there for him, you know, to help him, but… I don’t know.”
“Dustin still has nightmares.” You admit, which Jonathan hadn’t known.
“I thought those went away, bug.”
You shake your head at him. “No… If anything, they’ve only gotten worse. Some nights he sleeps in my bed, says I calm him down, but I just… I feel horrible, knowing I left them alone that night at the middle school. The things he saw… god.”
Nancy and Jonathan sigh, understanding how painful the weight of guilt can feel.
A silence follows your confession.
Then, because you hate when there’s silence, you try to go back to the previous topic. “Anyways, Nancy, what we’re trying to say is that we understand. And I’m sure Steve will, too. He was also there that night, at Jonathan’s. You should talk to him, explain the weight within you. Steve, he…”
You find yourself pausing, unsure if what you’re about to tell Nancy is something Steve would want you to keep between you two, but he misses her. He loves her, so you try to fix whatever you can between them. “He thinks he did something wrong, that he’s unlovable. It isn’t fair to make someone feel that way.”
Nancy sighs. “I didn’t know that.”
“I know, but now that you do, you should probably do something about it. You guys can still go back to how things were.”
Jonathan frowns. “What if things can’t go back to the way they were? I mean, Will still thinks he’s in the Upside Down sometimes. I’ve seen the way Dustin gets scared when he hears a loud noise.”
A phantom pain shoots through your ankle. It’s long since healed, but sometimes memories from last year still sting. As you’re absentmindedly rubbing at it, Nancy notices and starts to get upset.
“Doesn’t that make you mad?”
“Mad?” You and Jonathan ask at the same time.
Nancy seems to almost come back to life, her anger now bringing energy back into her. “Yeah, that those… Those people who did this, who ruined so many lives, they just get away with it.”
“The people responsible for this, they’re dead.” Jonathan gently reminds her.
Nancy leans in close, bitterness in her voice as she narrows her eyes. “Do you really believe that?”
Jonathan frowns again and you do the same. If you’re being honest, you were also pretty skeptical about the whole evil scientists at Hawkin’s Lab all dying. Seemed like a pretty convenient thing to happen. But what else are you supposed to believe?
Nancy looks between you and Jonathan and sighs again. You know she’s upset by your unwillingness to look further, to question everything, but then you watch as her eyes drift towards some kid with his headphones and his walkman. Something shifts in her gaze and you know immediately that she’s thought of something.
You scoot closer in a hurry. “Nancy, whatever it is–”
“Your mom’s boyfriend,” she looks over at Jonathan. “He works at RadioShack, right?”
“Yeah… Why?” Jonathan looks over at you as if you have any possible explanation, and you just shrug at him. “What are you thinking?”
“Do you wanna skip fourth period?”
Immediately you hop down from the car. “No. Nope. Not happening. We aren’t doing this again.”
Nancy groans at you. “Y/N, I haven’t even explained my plan to you yet.”
“Okay, go on. Explain it, so I can then say no.”
Nancy does as she’s told, and it’s a fucking brilliant plan. You know it’ll work, and that’s why you can’t do it. Buying a tape recorder, planting a fake meetup with Barb’s mom to con the Hawkin’s Lab people into taking them in, and then recording whatever they confess to take it to the detective Barb’s parents hired.
It’s a genius plan, but you can’t leave the kids behind for that long.
“I can’t go.”
Jonathan looks disappointed. “Bug, don’t you want to make those assholes pay?”
“I do,” you reassure him. “But I can’t afford to leave the kids behind for two whole days. I mean, last time I did they opened a portal to another dimension. And Dustin has been acting weird lately, and Will’s been having those episodes more and more and I just… What if it’s happening again?”
Your voice shakes a bit with fear, and Jonathan pulls you into him. “We don’t know that.”
“But what if it is? Who would be there for them? We can’t just leave them to suffer the consequences alone while we’re trying to avenge them.”
While you’re still wrapped in Jonathan’s arms, Nancy rests her own hand against your shoulder. “I would feel better knowing the kids are in good hands. You’ve always been their biggest advocate.”
You thank the girl, but Jonathan still seems unsure about leaving you behind. “What about you? Who’s gonna be there for you if something happens?”
There, hidden underneath his words, you know he’s really asking how can I protect you if you aren’t within arm’s reach?
You bury your face into his chest, and Nancy seems to get the message and looks away. When you have some privacy, you look up at Jonathan. “I’ll be okay, bee. I promise. We can call every day you’re away, nothing will go uncommunicated this time. No secrets. You’ll be home in no time and I’ll be right here, safe and sound.”
He kisses your head. “Promise me you’ll be safe.”
“I should be telling you that.”
“Y/N…” he isn’t laughing, and you can hear how fast his heart is pounding. He’s terrified to leave you behind, but you know that this is what you have to do.
“I love you, and I’ll be right here. Come home to me, alright?”
“I will.” He promises, and you look into his eyes and see all the warmth and sincerity that you’ve come to love so much, and you believe him.
After a few moments, you finally pull away from him. You clear your throat and turn towards Nancy. “Okay, now that we’ve got that settled, I’m assuming I’m covering for y’all?”
She nods. “If you wouldn’t mind, can I tell my mom I’m at your place?”
“Duh, and Jonathan,” you flick his forehead, breaking the remaining tension away. “I’ll tell your mom you’ll be at my place as well. Sound good?”
He nods as well, though his eyes linger on you longer than they should.
“Well!” You clap your hands and stand between Nancy and Jonathan. “Great team meeting, gang. Let’s reconvene in two day’s time.”
Nancy laughs and pulls you into her own hug.
“I’ll keep him safe,” she whispers into your ear, and you exhale shakily. The weight of everything has finally settled in. You can’t believe you’re doing this. A part of you feels like you’ve just solidified something horrible, not agreeing to come along, but the other part of you, maybe even the larger part, is secretly relieved.
You’re not sure what to make of it.
“Thank you.” You whisper back, squeezing her tightly.
When you break apart, you pull Jonathan into yet another hug. “Stay safe, bee.”
“I will.”
“Good,” you pull away and give the two teens a thumbs up. “Break a leg, go expose some weird government agency!”
True to your word, you cover for Jonathan and Nancy the rest of the day. Teachers ask where they are and you simply tell them they both had a family emergency. Thankfully, due to living in such a small and rundown town, they don’t question it.
After school, you head over across the street to the middle school to go pick up Will and Dustin. Since Jonathan drove you to school and took his car with Nancy, you’ll have to hitch a ride on your brother’s bike pegs to work.
When you reach the school you walk towards the bike rack, expecting to see the boys all standing there about to leave, but you stop when you realize that they aren’t.
Huh. Odd.
You wander around. It’s been years since you’ve been inside the middle school, and the hallways are filled with memories. You walk towards the AV room, figuring they’re probably there to discuss whatever new project they’re working on. As you round the corner, you hear pounding and a girl’s voice demanding to be let in.
Speeding up, you spot Max with her angry fists. “Guys! What’s going on? C’mon!”
You watch for a moment, curious as to who this girl is. Dustin spoke highly of her, yet her brother is the worst person you’ve met in your life. She has an anger in her, that much is obvious, but then she grabs something from her bag and begins to pick at the lock.
Hm, she’s smart.
“Need some help?” You ask her.
She looks up at you and frowns. “And who are you?”
“Y/N Henderson. Unfortunately, the idiot that I’m assuming is locked inside the room is my brother.”
“You know how to pick a lock?” Max asks, eyeing you up and down.
Shrugging, you say, “can’t be too hard.”
Max seems to accept that as an answer and slides over, making room for you to crouch down next to her. You help her jimmy the paperclip into the door. Then, you hear some muffled yelling from the other side. What the fuck has your brother gotten up to this time?
“I’m gonna put a leash on that kid,” you mumble, and Max laughs.
“Do they do this a lot?”
You blow a piece of hair out of your face. “Yeah. They’re weird, honestly–”
The lock clicks, the door flings open, and suddenly a tiny, slimy creature comes scampering out the room. You hear the boys curse and before you can get up and out of their way, they come crashing into you and Max on the ground.
“Shit!” Dustin knees your forearm and you groan.
“Y/N!” His eyes widen when he sees you. He’s been caught.
Max gets up. “What was that?”
Lucas ignores her. “He’s getting away!”
“Who is getting away?” You’re finally up as well, watching as the boys start to scramble around in a panic.
Mike, seemingly unsurprised by your sudden appearance, turns to you. “Dart!” Then, in annoyance, he turns towards Max. “You let him escape!”
“What the fuck is a Dart?” You’re freaking out now. Lucas, hearing your confusion, can only shrug his shoulders at you.
Then, Dustin angrily advances towards Mike and starts yelling in his face. “Why did you attack him?”
Mike doesn’t say a word, he just starts to run down the hall. Dustin, even more in a panic, screams at him, “Don’t hurt him! Don’t you hurt him!”
You grab at your brother’s jacket and fling him back, now incredibly fucking angry. “Dustin Henderson, you have three seconds to explain what the fuck is happening.”
Lucas, Max, and Will stand back, frightened by your anger. Dustin, the only one who ever seems to face this anger, gulps. “I can explain.”
“Start. Talking.”
And he does. He explains how he had found Dart last night, thinking it had been some new lizard breed previously undiscovered. That’s why he hadn’t let you into his room. Then, to prove he was some scientific prodigy and, which he doesn’t tell you but you suspect, to impress Max.
“I was about to show Mr. Clark before Mike came in and took Dart. According to Will…” Dustin looks over at Max, lowers his voice, and whispers to you, “he’s from the Upside Down.”
And there it is.
There, the dread that has been creeping up on you ever since you saved Will, comes crawling up. You knew this would happen eventually. It’s happening again. You were right.
God, it’s happening again.
Thank fuck you stayed behind with the kids.
You want to throw up, crawl into a ball and pretend nothing else exists anymore, but Dustin is looking at you with fear in his eyes and you know you have to be strong for him. For all the kids, now. “Okay, let’s split up and find Dart.”
Dustin nods and sends Will southbound, Lucas westbound, and Max towards the gymnasium. You go with him, both because he’s your brother and because you have a few choice words you’d like to say to him. Everyone takes a walkie and splits up.
Mike is already long gone, which you’re not surprised by.
After everyone leaves, you snap at Dustin. “Thanks so much for telling me about Dart, by the way.”
“Y/N…”
“What exactly did you think you’d do with that thing hidden in our house?”
“Continue to hide it from you–ow!” Dustin rubs the back of his head.
You continue to walk. “You deserved that.”
“I did.”
You laugh, but then you feel a sense of static behind you. You turn around, but there’s no one there. But the static had felt like the same electricity that had accompanied El’s powers last year, but… No. She’s gone. You know she is.
Brushing it off as paranoia, you continue to keep an eye out for Dart. “So, what does Max think about all this?”
“Mike won’t let us tell her.” Dustin says, annoyance in his voice.
This doesn’t shock you. “I get why. I mean, we all almost died last year.”
“Yeah, but she’s different. She’s cool, I think she could be good for the party.”
Dustin seems so eager, and you feel bad for denying the boy. “She’s too young. You’re all too young for this. We can’t rope her any further into the Upside Down. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”
Your brother sighs. “I mean, I guess… but–”
Will’s voice suddenly comes through the walkie. “Guys, I found him.”
“Where?” Dustin fumbles with the walkie, almost dropping it in his frantic rush to answer.
“In the bathroom by Mr. Salerno’s.”
“Copy that.” Mike says.
You look over at Dustin. “Race you to the bathroom?”
“You’re on.”
The two of you start to run, and at first you’re winning. But then you forget that you haven’t been in the school for at least three years now and you take a wrong turn, misremembering where Mr. Salerno’s room is. “Shit!”
You backtrack, but Dustin is long gone now.
By the time you get your bearings back, Lucas, Mike, and Max have all run down the hallway towards the bathroom. You join them as you all run inside. Dustin is standing in the middle of the bathroom, which you find strange.
Mike looks around. “Where’s Dart?”
“I don’t know. Not here.” You eye your brother, but he averts your gaze.
“Will said he was here.” You remind him, but Dustin doesn’t respond.
Mike curses and starts checking all the stalls.
“Maybe Will has him?” Dustin says, but you keep an eye on him. Something isn’t right.
You’re about to call Dustin’s bluff, accuse him of lying, when Mike suddenly freezes. He looks around, then turns to you. “Where’s Will?”
You turn around and finally notice that yeah, Will isn’t here. But he had just radioed from the bathroom.
“I… I don’t know.” Fear settles in you now, and you have an awful feeling that something bad is about to happen. After his episode from the night before…
You run out the bathroom, the first to start looking for Will.
-
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harrywavycurly · 3 months
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Secret Rendezvous Part 8: Miss You?
Masterlist: Here
CW: Language
Tag List: @emma77645 @aol19 @tlclick73 @prestinalove @kailey-firefly @fromasgardandback @therealgothamguardianfr @peaches-roses-sins @hiscrimsonangel @furiousladyking @angelina16torres-blog @sofaritsalrightt @josephquinnsfreckles @starrywhitenight @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @jasminelafleur @ohmeg @comeonatmebruh @missmarch-99 @arthurcerverogf
A/N: Okay y’all this is huge for Eddie right? Do we think he’s over being asshole or no? Also I’m so friggin excited for the next part but enjoy!✨
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puppetmaster13u · 5 months
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Prompt 184
“Well damn.” 
Jason wrenched his gaze from the mess of red and green spattered across the room, searching for the source of the voice. His head hurt, he wanted his Dad. He wanted Bruce. He… his head hurt. His everything hurt. 
“Honestly, didn’t expect them to find another half-breed. Didn’t think there was another halfa out there…”  
He tore his gaze away from the floor- when had it gotten there- finally finding the other… person? The person giving him an empty smile through some sort of muzzle and missing an entire arm. Well, he couldn’t judge, he’d torn his nails off while digging out of his grave before… this. 
“Hey, kid, don’t sweat it, it’ll grow back,” the man apparently noticed where he was staring, shoulder twitching as he shrugged and more green pouring out. Jason couldn’t stop staring, eyes slipping from the growing pool to the rest of the chains apparently keeping the person on that side of the… room? Cage? Cell? 
“Shit, hey, kid, kid, don’t cry, uh, fuck, shh, kid don’t cry-” the person made a noise, some sort of hum or croon that caused him to relax. To his already brain-damaged confusion. “C’mere, away from the door now, shh…” 
Oh, when had he started to move? It was like he blinked and was stumbling away towards the chained person, practically tripping over a limb before the person managed to catch him. “Ope, oh you’re just a little baby-” a hand, clawed, carefully ran through his hair, tucking him against a rumbling chest that nearly made him tear up again. He wanted Bruce. 
“It’s alright kid, shh, they won’t get you,” the man rumbled, everything about him green to his rapidly closing eyes. Pale skin like a corpse, black scales like rot, hair white like snow, all stained green with blood.  “They’d have to kill me again for that.” 
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astrobei · 1 year
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something something mike wheeler is so used to being brushed off and ignored by his own family that he learns to make his feelings loud and obnoxious around most people because it’s better to be ignored when you’re being annoying on purpose than to be ignored when you’re being vulnerable on accident. he learns to roll his eyes and be slow to trust and be critical of newcomers because his friends are his people— his most trusted, his tried and true ride or dies, but after you make it into his circle he will die for you. he scowls and he glares and he tries so hard to be somebody he’s not because he thinks things will be easier for him that way, because he’s been bullied his whole life. he’s a little abrasive but he softens around his best friend, who can get him to open up without even saying a word. he likes syrup on his eggs and cheesy pop music. he’s the paladin, he’s a fighter, he’s a source of good. he’s will’s light in the darkness and he finds that same light in will too. he’s surprised every time a parental figure hugs him. he’s seen his best friends die and come back and die again. he spent a year searching for a purpose and he found it in will byers. he feels like nobody needs him, but all he wants is to be needed. to be wanted. he feels like he’s drifting apart from his people, until will reels him in, tethers him, and says hey, remember when you said asking me to be your friend was the best thing you ever did? well being your friend gives me the courage to fight on.
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koraesrambles · 8 months
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Gotham War: Red Hood Issue #2? More like Everyone in Gotham is Horny for Jason Todd.
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Get it girl.
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Everyone is asking, "Where is Red Hood?" but does anyone ask "HOW is Red Hood?"
spoiler alert: He is Not Good.
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Everyone: Well Gotham War is problematic because --
Me: Yeah yeah yeah, but have you considered that I'm having a great time watching everyone fight over Jason Todd?
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Rose is the only person in the world who understands Jason like I do.
Some Scholar: Well I read comics because of their commentary on --
Me: Well, I read comics because I want to see a bunch of silly people dressed up in silly costumes fighting over my favorite character while he goes insane, okay? Good.
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