#brendon situation

[spookythesillyfella]

AND LIKE . I THINK IVE TALKED ABOUT IT BEFORE

how Brendon could very well work az a metaphor for people with dizabilitiez who cant work / hold down a job for too long . and who get mocked and miztreated by their peerz for it

BUT I WOULD LIKE TO ADD ONTO THE FACT THAT I FIND THIZ KIND OF LIKELY

BECAUZE AT THE END OF THE EPIZODE BRIEFCAZE TELLZ HIM ITZ "time for hiz bath" AZ IF HEZ A CHILD

LIKE . I DO HAVE TO WONDER IF BRENDON CAN EVEN TAKE CARE OF HIMZELF IN THE FIRZT PLACE – HEZ NOT ONLY AN EMBARRAZZMENT FOR BEING UNEMPLOYED . BUT MAYBE HIZ FAMILY SEEZ HIM AZ SOME SORT OF BURDEN FOR "not being able to do the bare minimum" ?????????

[frumdyke]

that "a fever plus other songs" has me so so scared. what if they play build god and high hopes back to back. i think i would kill people

[airqlanes]

god I honestly can't believe catfish is back in the year of our lord 2023 I haven't stopped screaming ever since they dropped the reading+Leeds headliners i literally feel like this

[backseatloversz]

Ryan Ross & Brendon Urie on their singer/songwriter dynamic throughout 2006 (transcriptions + sources under the cut)

Rock Sound magazine:

"He is everything I am not," comments Ross of Urie. "From day-one I knew he was the singer, and I wrote the songs knowing I could not get up there and deliver the stuff in the way that he does. In a way he becomes me when on stage, as he says everything I wish I could but cannot. There are definitely things I did not hold back on because I knew it would not be me delivering it live."

Musiqueplus interview:

Interviewer: Was there a special moment where you guys said, every single piece of the puzzle is there and this is actually going to work?

Ross: Probably when I decided that I'm not a good singer and Brendon started singing. I was like, (Brendon: Okay!) this will work.

Urie: There we go, when I became the singer. There we go.

DVD interview:

Interviewer: How is it the two of you work together in the sense of like, cause [Ryan is] writing lyrics and [Brendon is] singing them and it's gotta be an interesting, uncommon situation.

Ross: Yeah, and that was really a tough kind of thing to figure out.

Urie: That was hard, writing for the album, because, well, A, I had never worked with a band, writing songs and stuff like that, so that was new to me, just being in a band, and never playing shows and having the experience so, and B, I always wrote, you know, shitty as they were, lyrics by myself and I would sing them so it was kind of weird to work that way with him being like, you have to sing it this way, it has to be presented in this fashion, and being like, oh God, I don't know if I can do it justice, because these are your words, how am I gonna be your voice? But I think we're getting better now.

Ross: Me trying to explain some kind of vocal characteristic to him, but then me not actually being able to sing it because I'm not that good at singing but then expecting him to understand what I meant was just very stressful the whole time. We'd get in fights all the time just out of frustration. It was very frustrating, but at the same time I think allowed me to write whatever kind of lyrics I wanted to write because I knew he was going to be singing them and I felt like he had such a stronger voice and it was definitely a voice that sort of demands that attention, you know, it's very prominent. And some of the lyrics were, you know, they're not exactly playing it safe, I guess, in any sort of way.

Urie: You could kind of hide behind my voice, I guess, in a sense.

Ross: It felt right to have confident sounding lyrics behind a confident voice, I guess is what I'm trying to say.

[theblackparadeisdead]

why is pw the villain in this panic thing? I just know they were signed to his label/imprint/whatever, but weren't a lot of bands signed to him at one point?

That was vaguely hyperbole but also I don't think that pete handled the panic situation well at all. He signed those kids and had them scheduled for a national tour before they had ever even played a show or released an album, so when they became famous by association with fall out boy they had absolutely no precedent for handling it because it wasn't a gradual change at all.

I find the way that Ryan and Pete met extremely shady. They met on livejournal, after Ryan had been using mcr and fall out boy fan spaces to drum up interest in panic. Somehow he managed to contact pete on the site, but none of them have ever told the same story twice about how that came about .

Also I just feel really bad for how the first panic split went down for Ryan. He obviously spent a large chunk of his teenage years idolizing pete, and when the split happened, pete unequivocally took Brendons side. Like that's not particularly a villain moment but it had to hurt to have his childhood best friend, Spencer, and his hero gang up against him.

I don't think it's exactly a case of villain-ness but pete just. Not understanding personal responsibility when it came to making a traumatized teenager famous overnight and then completely stepping back when the fallout from that happened

[magia-nera]

just dying to be her

── ryan ross x fem!reader

summary: you felt like your crush on ryan went completely unnoticed by him, to the point you see him actively flirting with other girls. this becomes too much, making you feel the need to get away from the situation unfolding, only to get stuck in the worst possibile place in the entire world.

warning: alcohol and drug use (weed), vulgar words, suggestive themes but it’s mostly fluff and comedy, highkey insane plot

word count: 2.5k

a/n: posting this at 4 am cause i really wanted to publish something, it’s not proofread! this was honestly fun to write, the premise is pretty bonkers but it came to me while listening to "sugar we're going down" (“don't mind me, i'm watching you two from the closet wishing to be the friction in your jeans. isn't it messed up how I'm just dying to be him?”), hope yall enjoy!

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

“Damn,” you sighed, sinking even more into the soft couch, “this party fucking sucks.”

Brendon looked at you, quickly shifting his gaze towards where you were staring.

Ryan was standing against the opposite wall, chatting with a blonde girl in a way that anyone would definitely describe as flirty, his intentions clearly written on his face.

And you were sure that the girl reciprocated. After all, who wouldn’t want to get Ryan Ross in their own bed? He was hot, charming, pretty and, on top of all that, he had a way with words that would get anyone wrapped around his finger.

“I think I’ll have a smoke,” you blurted out, not even trying to hide the annoyance in your tone. Practically everyone knew of your crush on Ryan, except for the man himself, he seemed completely oblivious all these years. Brendon looked at you, quizzically. He looked like he was about to ask if you wanted company, but seeing the scowl on your face, he got the hint you wanted to be left alone.

Patting your jeans pockets to make sure the little plastic bag containing the goods was still there, you grabbed your bag and stood up, glancing one last time towards Ryan’s direction, but he didn’t seem to notice. Obviously. You knew that there was really no reason to be mad at him, after all you could blame yourself for not confessing after years of these feelings, but a small part of you couldn’t help but get jealous whenever you saw him with another girl. It just didn’t make sense to you how he could never notice the blush on your cheeks or the joyous smile you reserved for him only; everything was made worse by the fact that he didn’t seem to reciprocate.

You started making your way through the corridors, looking for an empty room where you could light up a joint in peace and finally, maybe, enjoy this awful party.

Squishing through sweaty bodies, you finally got to a random bedroom, immediately closing the door behind you and sighing. The music was muffled but you could still hear it, it was admittedly pretty nice like that. It would make for some cool background noise for the blissful smoke session you were about to have by yourself.

You sat on the floor, back slouched against the mattress and your bag placed in your lap. You started to grab the tools needed to prepare the joint, when thoughts started running wild through your mind. You’d usually smoke with Ryan, sitting on the most isolated bench in the park close to his house, and you'd pretty much always crash at his to snack when you got the munchies and you often spent the night, when you were too blazed to make it back to your house. This wasn’t your first time smoking alone, but it was probably the first time you were smoking to get your mind off the jealousy you were feeling. It was undeniable and you had come to peace with the fact that you liked Ryan, but he didn’t like you back. What a cliché, liking your best friend.

Snickering, you finished rolling up and quickly grabbed your lighter. Taking a long drag, your body started to relax, thanks partly to the shots you’d done with Brendon not too long ago. Your body welcomed the warm fuzzy feeling, making you giggle at the thoughts you were previously furrowing your brows at, “Ahh, stupid, stupid Ryan, fuck off”.

Not even a couple of drags in, you felt the hairs on your nape stand up. Damn fuck, now you couldn’t even enjoy some God forsaken weed? Your guts felt all twisted in anxiety.

But it wasn’t the joint’s fault. When you heard footsteps approaching the room you were in, you panicked and stood up to your feet, “Oh God, what the fuck do I do?”. The logical answer would have been to leave when they’d come in, it’s not like you were doing anything weird anyway. Illegal, yes, but it wasn’t weird for sure. But in your agitated state, you ran towards the closest safe haven you could spot: the closet.

If only you knew that it was far from safe.

Quickly shutting the closet door behind you, you muffled your breath by covering your mouth, not wanting to be found out, but also you were admittedly quite curious as to who walked in and disturbed your peace.

You tried your best to figure out whose voice it was, but all you could hear was moans, “Ugh, gross” you thought to yourself.

You definitely could not recognize the girl’s voice, but when the guy spoke you swore you could feel your stomach and your insides twist and contort.

It was Ryan. Out of all people, you had to be locked inside a fucking closet in the same room Ryan Ross was about to bang a girl in?

Just. Your. Luck.

You couldn’t even decide if you were more grossed out, angry or sad. Maybe a mix of everything, with just the right amount of envy for that girl, what did she have that you didn’t? The whole situation made your blood boil with a jealousy you had never felt before.

Despite your wish to be engulfed by the floor and disappear forever, you kept listening in to your crush smooching some other girl, until they stopped

“Aw, come on, what the fuck Ryan?”

“I-I’m sorry, listen,” you couldn’t decipher his tone.

“No, shut up. Fuck off really, I thought you liked me!”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not you…” she didn’t let him finish.

“Yeah yeah sure, ‘it’s not you it’s me’, and I fucking bet, why’d you even bring me here if you can’t even get hard?” the door slammed so hard you swore it would fly off the hinges.

You heard Ryan exhale a long, pained sigh.

Was this even really happening? What the fuck were you supposed to do? If you were nervous before, at this point you were about to have a full on breakdown.

The bed creaked a little. Would Ryan hate you if you came out of your hiding spot-turned prison?

The mix of alcohol and weed made all your rationality go down the drain, or rather out the door with the girl who left, but the fear of what might wait you on the other side prevailed.

Trying to stay put, you felt your legs start to cramp, from how tight the closet was. You tried shifting on your spot, to relieve some of the discomfort, but it was of no help at all. It was so cramped in there, every single movement could become your demise.

And that’s exactly what happened. You were getting more and more uncomfortable, no change of position was helping, until you accidentally hit the wall, pretty hard too. You immediately froze in fear.

“What was that?”, at least Ryan sounded as scared as you. You could clearly hear footsteps pacing around the room. Maybe getting out was the best possible choice: you pushed the door open just enough to take a precautionary peek, before quickly slipping out, facing your best friend.

Ryan’s head shot up immediately when he noticed your frame standing in front of the closet, “What the- where’d you come from?”, he looked completely bewildered.

Fidgeting in your spot, you figured that telling him the truth was the best option, “Uhm well, it’s gonna sound insane but I was inside the closet. Like literally. I was here before you guys arrived and I panicked and hid in there”.

“Oh, so you heard everything?”, you nodded, “great, amazing even. Fuck,” he exhaled through gritted teeth, throwing himself on the bed.

“I-I’m sorry Ryan. I can leave if that’s what you want,” what were you even saying now, you felt your face burning from the embarrassment of the whole ordeal. Maybe, deep down, you were hoping that Ryan would forgive you and let you stay, to keep him company. And just maybe, open up about what happened, you were best friends after all.

“Nah, it’s okay, you can stay. That’d be probably better,” he sighed, sitting upright and patting the spot next to him, signaling you to come closer, “why were you even here to begin with?”

“Oh, uhm, I just wanted to have a smoke, and I couldn’t find you, so I figured I’d find somewhere to be alone,” a white lie wouldn’t hurt. It wasn’t even fully a lie, but you couldn’t bring yourself to spill the whole truth right now.

“Oh yeah? D’ya still have the weed?”, he looked a bit relieved.

“Sure, let me get it,” you retrieved the half smoked joint and your bag from the closet, putting the cig between your lips while sitting down. Ryan stole the lighter from your hands, smiling smugly. You gave him a confused stare, earning a satisfied gigglefrom him before he lit up the joint. You could smell the alcohol on him, and some faint perfume that almost made you gag.

“You can have the rest,” you passed him the joint, “I smoked this earlier”.

“It’s basically an offer I can’t refuse,” he chirped.

You watched him take a few drags, it was unfair how pretty he was, even now, with tousled hair, soft brown locks framing his handsome face, eyes glossed over but still shining like marbles. He always reminded you of the soft spring sun, warm and delicate, but still prone to silly jokes like sudden rainstorms. When his gleaming and mellow eyes met yours, you had to pull yourself out of the stupor you were falling in.

“Why are you staring?”, he inquired, in the same old cocky tone. You had to admit he was good at hiding awkwardness.

“Just wondering what happened earlier, like, did I hear things correctly or…”, you hoped he would believe you were mocking him and that he wouldn’t perceive the sadness hiding behind your pungent remark, “the Ryan Ross couldn’t get with a girl? Are my ears playing tricks on me?”

Violent, crimson blush painted his cheeks, “honestly, I really have no excuse, yeah, you heard correctly,” he sighed dramatically, but the jokey attitude wasn’t fooling you.

“Ryan, you can talk to me if there’s anything troubling you. Swear to God I will not make fun of you. Maybe,” you smiled softly.

“You better,” he playfully shoved you, lightly, “Uh, I just- I didn’t really like her.”

“Then why’d you flirt with her?”, you bit your tongue immediately after speaking, hoping Ryan wouldn’t notice the little detail you let slip out.

“I don’t even know, I think I wanted to get off, but… There might be a person I would have liked to do this with, but I can’t tell how she feels. I guess my body just decided to play me this sick, stupid joke today,” he forced a chuckle, “sorry, didn’t mean to ramble so much.”

A string of ‘fuck fuck fuck’s was all that was going through your mind. So Ryan liked someone, uh? ‘This day couldn't get any worse’. Worst of all, you were supposed to help him, console him, like the good, nice friend you were.

“Why don’t you just tell her? How could she not like you, have you seen yourself? Do you know how many girls would literally kill to get even just a single date with you?”

“Ahh, it’s just, let’s say, complicated”.

You gave him a blank, deadpan stare. He always did this, worrying over nothing, “I’m sure you can definitely work it out. Just tell her, c’mon”.

He chuckled, “okay, will do. After I'm done with this, though.”

You smiled at his willing attitude, but inside you felt like your whole world was falling apart. You wouldn’t be able to handle seeing the man you had liked for so many years with another girl. If this made you selfish, then you would embrace the label, because it was no use denying how jealous you were feeling.

He stubbed out the joint on the ashtray and inhaled deeply, “okay, so, I’m gonna do it now.”

“Yeah, good luck!”, you cheered him on. But he didn’t stand up. Instead, he faced towards you, adjusting his posture and clearing his throat.

“So, here goes nothing. I like you. Like a lot, and for a long time now,” he stared at you straight in the eyes, warm pools of chocolate engulfing you in their mesmerising hold.

“What?”, that’s all you could muster up. And there goes your romantic moment. You probably looked like a dead fish, with your eyes wide open in disbelief, while your crush of a lifetime confessed to you, “Ryan stop joking.”

“I’m not, I do really like you,” his tone was dead serious, his unreadable expression made you shiver. Was this real?

“Ryan, I swear, if you’re playing me you’re dead. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been in love with you?”, you tried to calm down, “all this time I was painfully watching you flirt with any girl you’d see, for what fucking reason if the one you liked was me all along? You were the only oblivious one to my feelings.”

“I-I just thought… a girl like you, why would you even want me? I tried my best to get over you, didn’t wanna ruin our friendship too, but nothing worked. And as you can see, today I failed miserably. It’s not even the first time…” you felt yourself melt under his words, as if they were a magic spell. The last sentence made you chuckle a bit.

“Serves you right, Ross,” you started feeling more at ease, “well, I like you too. So what now?”

You tried to regain some composure, glancing up at him occasionally: Ryan also looked happier now, the awkwardness long gone, except the sheepish smile still adorning his lips, which soon found yours, the warmness of his skin contrasting with the chills decorating every inch of your skin.

Chaste, dainty pecks soon turned into a fervid make out session, his hands roamed everywhere, eager to explore what he sought for so long. Your hands settled in his locks, soft like the nicest pillow and smooth like the most heavenly silk.

His lips travelled up and down your neck, your collarbones, your earlobes, he couldn’t get enough. And when you tumbled over on the bed, he hug you tightly, his arms snaking around your waist to hold you close to him, chest to chest. His breath crashed against your cheeks when your lips parted, “better than I ever dreamed,” he smiled, while he planted kisses on your whole face.

“Oh, so you even dreamed of this. But you didn’t have the balls to confess earlier?”, you teased him playfully.

“Mhm. How could I even imagine such an angel like you would like me back?”

“You sure do have a way with words, uh. Wait, wha-”, you shifted slightly on the mattress.

“Ryan, did you just get hard?”

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

can’t write smut so I’ll leave it up to your imagination! ;)

[shhhsecretsideblog]

Hi, i hope you don't mind if i request to combine 2 prompts in one scenario.

8. "There's so much pressure..."

12. "Come on, you'll be fine. First labour's take ages.

Scenario: a pregnant woman got kidnapped by her obsessive ex-boyfriend, went into labor and begged him to take her to the hospital because she can't be having the baby in his basement, but he refused. Go as wild and dark as you want.

Thanks 💌

Thanks for the request anon, this was delicious to write. Only prompt no.8 has been included as the other didn’t naturally fit in to wherever the hell this story went. I swear I have no control, these stories take on a life of their own. You said go wild and dark, so… 😈 Trigger warnings; kidnapping, vomit, blood, violence, mental instability, death (not mum or bubs dw), oh and of course fpreg & birth. Hope you like it

Chained

Libby’s eyes fluttered open. It took a moment for her vision to focus but when it did she realised nothing was familiar. The room was dimly lit, no natural light source, only a singular light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Dark grey bricks formed each of the four walls and the floor below was concrete and rough. She was lying down, on old discoloured bedding on a rickety metal bed. Where the hell was she?! She tried to push herself upright, but she discovered one arm could not be moved. It was handcuffed to the bed!

“What the hell…” Libby muttered.

“Ah… you’re awake.” Came a voice from the shadows.

Stepping into the light Libby saw a man walk towards her. It was Scott, her ex boyfriend. He looked awful. She’d not seen him since they broke up 18 months ago. His hair had grown, now matted and unkept, dark circles hung beneath his eyes and his usually clean shaven chin now sported a severe and dishelved five o’clock shadow.

“…Scott? Where… where am I?” She asked confused and still a little bit groggy.

“You’re at home darling. I rescued you.”

Libby’s brain whirled into overdrive. She remembered going to a midwife appointment, it was her final check up before her due date, she finished the appointment and headed back to her car. She had stopped just before opening the door, hearing something behind her, and then…. everything went black.

“Rescued me?! From what?” Libby asked, managing to push herself to a sitting position with her one free hand.

“From making a mistake. Did you really think you could keep me away from my baby?” Scott drawled, his eyes staring hungrily at her pregnant stomach.

“What the fuck are you talking about? We broke up, I moved on. This isn’t your baby!”

Libby’s outburst was rewarded by a forceful smack across the face. The distinctive metallic taste of blood soon filled her mouth. She was shocked into silence.

“We were great together! We were happy; we were going to get married, have a family, and then… Brendon came along. Poisoning our relationship, turning you against me, stealing you for himself. No! I won’t let him take this away. I’ve brought you home baby… so we can be together.” Scott’s hand touched her bump and his eyes widened in glee. “Where we can be a family.”

This man was insane, Libby thought, realising the true danger of this situation. It was one thing having an ex that still held a candle towards you, but this was way beyond that. She knew Scott hadn’t taken the break up well, but since the split he’d clearly disappeared into a realm of utter delusion. The baby in her womb shifted, feeling the fear of its mother. Scott’s mouth twitched into an uncomfortable grin, feeling the child move. Libby daren’t say anything, it was clear he was unstable and there was no telling what might set him off.

“Rest up sweetie. I’ll get you some food, you must be hungry. Eating for two and all that.” Scott said cheerfully, removing his hand from her stomach and disappearing upstairs.

Libby looked down at her stomach and her handcuffed wrist. She didn’t feel hungry at all. Only nauseous.

~•~

Scott returned and brought her food. Libby didn’t say anything, didn’t move, too scared of accidentally provoking him. He left the tray of sandwiches and crisps on the side table next to the bed and disappeared upstairs, offering a firm “Eat” before he went.

Her memories had returned as she gradually came around from whatever drug Scott had administered. Brendon and Libby had decided to have a little trip away this weekend before the baby came. A baby-moon as they say. They’d told all their friends and family they’d be out of town and without signal for a few days, but this morning Brendon called to say he had a work emergency and they’d have to cancel. That was fine, Libby would just go visit her parents instead. Only she never got a chance to call her parents after the midwife appointment. Everyone thought her and Brendon were away, and Brendon thought she was at her parents - no one would realise she’d been kidnapped.

Her stomach rolled with fear. She needed to think, find a way out of here. Wherever “here” was…. Where the fuck had Scott taken her? She didn’t recognise the room, it could be anywhere. She looked over at the plate of food and her heart sank. She recognised the crockery - this was his family’s cabin, in the middle of the woods.

~•~

Days. She’d been there days. Her family and Brendon would hopefully know she was missing by now. But they’d never find her here.

Scott continued to visit, to bring her food, to talk the baby in her womb. He’d offered to bathe her once, disgusted by the thought she refused. When he tried to get more forceful, hitting her again, she faked practice labour pains and he thankfully left her alone to rest.

She barely spoke to him anymore, too fearful to say the wrong thing again, of which she had learnt the hard way. She tried once to play along with his delusion, that he had “rescued” her from Brendon and now they could be a family. Believing her, Scott eventually unlocked the handcuffs, but when she made a break for it towards the stairs of the basement Scott went ballistic. They got into a fight; she kicked and screamed and hit, but he was stronger and in the carnage she fell forward against the wooden stairs she was trying to climb.

Scott was stricter with the handcuffs after that. Libby swore to herself not to try it again for fear of what might happen to the baby if she fell again.

She had been feeling cramps ever since the fall. They weren’t too bad or debilitating, thankfully she wasn’t bleeding which Libby hoped was a good sign and that her baby was okay. The fall was a brutal reminder of the precious cargo she was carrying and she had to be careful.

The next night Libby was awoken by a forceful cramp rolling through her middle, much worse than any of the others she had felt. Curling round her stomach she breathed heavily through the wave until it passed, and she promptly fell back asleep.

It happened again shortly after, pulling her from her slumber and waking every cell of her body as it peaked, like a coil twisting tighter and tighter. She pushed herself up to sit on the bed. The room was pitch black - Scott controlled the lights and was the only way she knew if it was day or night. She rubbed the aching cramp rolling across her tightened belly with one hand, the other remaining chained to the bedpost. She wished she could move, to walk it off, but with the handcuffs and the darkness she had little options. Instead she got on her hands and knees and rocked steadily through the pain.

“Please be practice contractions…” she whispered to herself. “You can’t come now baby, you’re safe in there. Wait until we get outta here okay?”

The cramp eventually eased and after a few minutes waiting for the next, Libby let herself sink sideways back onto the bed. The baby had got the message, it was just practice pains, she thought to herself as she drifted back off to sleep.

~•~

The light to the basement flickered to life followed by the familiar stomping of feet on wooden steps.

“Morning sweetheart. How’s the mother of my child today?” Scott said in such a cheerful caring tone it caused a shiver to roll up Libby’s spine.

She glared at him from the bed, lying down under the covers half asleep and curled around her bump.

“Still not talking to me eh? Oh well. It won’t be long before I have a son or daughter to talk to.” Scott drawled, as he placed a cup of water and slice of toast onto the bedside table.

Another cramp squeezed her belly and Libby sucked in a breath, hissing through her teeth. She could feel her stomach hardening beneath her fingers as the practice contraction squeezed.

“Honey, are you alright?” Scott’s eyes pinched in cautious concern.

“Just a kick.” Libby said, schooling her face back to a neutral expression.

“Excited to meet their daddy no doubt.” He gleefully said making Libby feel sick.

This baby is NOT yours! She cried in her head.

“Get up and have some breakfast. I’ve got some things to show you today.” Scott said, offering a hand to help her up.

Libby ignored his hand and pushed herself upright. “What things?”

“All in good time my dear. It’s a surprise.” And with that he disappeared back upstairs with a gallop.

She could hear banging and thumping above her and wondered what on earth he was doing. Her stomach growled and she reluctantly nibbled on the toast that was provided. After eating she was left solely with her thoughts and the noises from upstairs. Plus the occasional cramps that continued to plague her. Sitting down became too frustrating and she managed to get herself to standing right beside the bed. Her arm was pulled uncomfortably far forward by the handcuffs, but at least it relieved the pressure in her hips.

The baby felt so low, like it was grinding on her pelvis. But she did feel like her breathing was better now. Libby tried to focus only on the positives and did not dwell enough to realise this meant the baby had dropped into position for birth.

She stayed standing as long as she could beside the bed, riding out the braxton hicks and swaying her hips side to side, but eventually her legs ached from the awkward position so she return to sit on the bed.

The practice contractions continued to wash over her whilst Scott was banging away upstairs. Libby was starting to get hot and sweaty and could barely sit still through them. She found herself biting her lips and humming through them, trying to keep the noise to a minimum. She didn’t want to attract Scott’s attention. She ended up back on all fours on the bed, one hand awkwardly attached to the bed while she rocked forwards and back through the rising waves. It was getting harder and harder to stay silent through these pains and it was getting more and more difficult to convince herself these were only practice contractions.

“Ohhhh… we had a deal baby. You have to s-stay in there…. It’s not s-safe…” Libby moaned quietly to her child, the pressure in her hips mounting with every contraction.

The sounds of movement from above made her panic. Scott was coming. Quickly, she moved from all fours and returned to her sitting position on the bed. Sitting down made everything worse - the heavily feeling of the baby so so low caused the pressure to spike. So much so she nearly threw up, gaging slightly at the same time Scott opened the basement door.

She could hear him huffing and puffing as he stomped every step, he was clearly struggling with something, and she saw the “surprise” before she saw him. It was a crib! Oh hell no, she thought to herself. There is no way my baby is being born here and it will never go in that thing.

“Darling…” he cooed as he got down to the basement “I got you something. Well, I got our baby something - a crib!” He said proudly as he placed it at the foot of the bed.

Libby didn’t say anything; saying something negative could earn her a slap, saying something positive he’d think she was up to something.

“Well?” He asked, clearly getting frustrated with her silence.

“It’s… nice.” She said timidly, he didn’t seem any calmer so she added “thank you.”

With that Scott broke into an unhinged smile. “Only the best for my baby. Made it myself!”

Libby felt the familiar tightening of another contraction approaching. Breathing steadily through her nose, she tried to keep any pain showing on her face.

“What do you think of the design?” He urged, unaware of the struggle happening inside Libby’s womb.

“Great.” She gritted out as calmly as she could.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Scott rushed upstairs leaving Libby alone for a minute.

The second he was out of sight her eyes scrunched and she panted erratically. Her hips were on fire, the baby sinking lower and lower. This was no false alarm, Libby finally admitted to herself.

Scott came bounding downstairs with a pile of baby clothes and blankets. “I also got these. I wasn’t sure if we were having a boy or a girl so got a selection of different clothes. And lots of blankets and toys. Everything we could possibly need.”

Libby couldn’t help it but she groaned loudly and curled over her contracting stomach.

“They’re not that bad!” Scott said, referring to the pile of clothes he’d now dumped into the crib.

“Ooooooh Scott….” Libby whimpered, the pain still barrelling through her body.

“Lib? What is it? What’s wrong?” He crouched down in front of her and placed a hand on her knee.

“I think… hooooo- I think I’m in labour. You have to take me to the hospital.” Libby pleaded.

“What? Oh no, you’re not fooling me again.” Scott recoiled away from her, and started pacing. “You- you tried that before remember. And then you tried to run away, to take my baby away! You were going to leave me Lib! No!! I’m not letting you out of my sight again. No way. No one else can have you. You and that baby are mine!”

“Scott… please. I’m having contractions… I need help… I need doctors…”

“No… I can’t. You’re just going to leave me again. I can’t lose you.” Scott shook his head, like he was trying to reorganise the thoughts inside. “You’re just pretending again, you’re not really having the baby, you’re just trying to escape. Well you can’t trick me twice. Nuh-uh. I’ll come back when you’ve stopped the act.”

“No! Scott!” Libby cried but the door slammed before she could say anything else.

~•~

Libby shouted and pleaded for 10 minutes straight after Scott went upstairs, but he never came back down. She stopped when her voice started to crack and when she thought she heard the front door slam.

This baby was coming and she was trapped - handcuffed to a bed in a basement in the middle of nowhere, the only person for miles was her crazy ex boyfriend who was convinced the baby was his.

Despite her wishful thinking, the contractions just kept on coming. It was as if accepting they were real had made them more frequent and stronger. There was no clock down here, she had no clue how often they struck, but Libby was aware of the gaps in between getting shorter.

Being in labour was bad enough but the fact she couldn’t move due to her restraints made everything a thousand time’s worse. In desperation she tried to squeeze her hand out the metal handcuff, twisting and pulling, but when it started to peel the skin off the back of her hand she screamed and gave up.

She couldn’t sit down anymore, the pain in her hips too great. All fours was bearable but her arms ached after too long. She tried squatting and kneeling against the headboard, standing and swaying beside the bed. Nothing helped. She felt like a caged animal; frustrated, angry, scared. All the while every contraction brought the baby closer and closer to being born, a fate she was trying desperately to avoid. She feared something might go wrong, and she was scared what would happen the moments after she delivered. Scott was clearly unstable, would he leave her here chained to the bed bleeding out and take away her baby?! She needed medical help, not only for the birth but for her best shot at escaping.

When Scott returned he found her on her knees beside the bed, slumped over the mattress and groaning heavily.

“You can stop this charade Libby! I’m not taking you anywhere!” Scott shouted from the steps of the basement.

“Mnnnghhh! It’s not a charade Scott! Oh god…. So much pressure….” Libby whimpered into the mattress, her knees widening instinctually.

“Come off it. You put on a good show but I know you’re faking it.”

Libby could only grunt, roaring against the building pressure between her thighs. An unmistakable splashing sound hit the concrete floor and she cried out. “My waters…. Hooo- I’m not - faking - it…” she panted and turned around to face him.

Scott’s face had paled and his eyebrows shot up. “Y-you really are in labour?”

“Yes,” Libby breathed, turning around awkwardly with the handcuffs and her large bump, sitting down heavily on the now-wet floor “please please take me to the hospital now.”

He didn’t say anything, instead he disappeared quickly back upstairs.

“Scott!!!” She cried out, worried he would just leave her there forever.

He returned a moment later carrying a plastic box. “It’s happening! Don’t worry darling, I have everything we need for our baby to be born.”

It’s not your baby!!!! Libby shouted in her head.

Sitting on the floor, one arm slung up over a shoulder stuck in the handcuffs, she rubbed her low and heavy stomach with the other as Scott began to unpack the box onto the table opposite.

“Towels. Gloves. Scissors. Clamps. Ooh more towels. Little sucker thing. Wow it’s got everything we need in here. Great Amazon find.” Scott commented as he rattled off everything inside the box.

Holy shit! He wants to deliver the baby here! Libby stopped breathing for a moment, panic squeezing at her heart. He was never going to let her go. She was never going to get her baby out of here before it was born.

“Scott… you can’t… be serious…” Libby said with strained breath.

“Shhhhh. It’s okay sweetie. I’ve done all the research, watched loads of videos. I know exactly what I’m doing and I will deliver our baby here.”

“But Scott I need a hospital, with nurses and medication.”

“No you don’t. Women birth babies every day. I’ve had months to prepare for this. It’s going to be fine, it’s going to be perfect.” Scott’s sinister smile chilled her resolve and another contraction struck before she could continue arguing.

He checked his watched and frowned. “You shouldn’t be having another contraction just yet.”

“I can’t hooooo control it!” Libby snipped.

“Oooo is this the part where you get all angry at me for doing this to you?” Scott joked with glee.

“You didn’t do this to me! This isn’t your baby Scott, please just let me go.”

“Don’t lie!!!!!” Scott shouted, an angry fire flashed briefly in his eyes and his fists clenched tight, but a second later the ire quickly disappeared. “You’re just scared, but it’s okay sweetie, I’m here and our baby will be fine.”

“Ohhh god…..” Libby grunted, the baby slipping lower and pressing against her cervix. She had to move, this position was unbearable, but her legs were useless during the raging contraction. She tried to push herself up, yanking her hands forward but the handcuff rattled and left her arm twisted backwards. “Mnnhhh- handcuffs…. Please undo the handcuffs…”

“You know I can’t do that Lib.” Scott said reluctantly.

“Please…. Mnghhhhh the baby…. I need to move. Can’t stay like this Scott…” Libby groaned and whimpered as the contraction peaked and gradually faded.

“I’m sorry honey, I can’t risk it. But let’s get you back onto the bed shall we, you’ll be much more comfortable there.”

The contraction had left her winded, Libby didn’t have the strength to argue anymore. But when Scott approached and went to help her up she managed to grit “Don’t touch me!” batting his advancing hands away.

“That’s gonna be difficult when I’m delivering our child.” Scott sarcastically replied.

Libby’s stomach rolled, not from a contraction but at the disgusting thought of Scott between her legs. Nausea bubbled inside, rising up her throat. She retched. “I think I’m gonna be sick…”

Scott jumped back as she dry heaved. “Erm…. I’ll get a bucket. Hang on.”

Libby struggled up to her knees, clinging sideways to the bed, and vomited all over the floor. The force of her stomach expelling its contents pushed the baby against her dilating cervix and towards the birth canal. She couldn’t stop herself from bearing down at the same time.

No no no… don’t push. Her brain cried but it wasn’t something she had control over.

By the time Scott returned with a bucket Libby had crawled back into the bed, leaving behind a puddle of amniotic fluid and vomit on the floor.

“Jeeze Libby, you’ve made a right mess. I’m glad we’re down here now, that would have been a nightmare to clean the carpets upstairs.”

“…water…” Libby panted, curled up on the bed and holding her hardened stomach, too exhausted to do anything other than bear through the labour pains tearing apart her body.

“Okay, sure.” Scott picked up the glass from the table and gently poured it into Libby’s dry mouth. “Everything will be okay Libby, our baby is nearly here.” He whispered, placing a grimy hand onto her bump and feeling the swell, his eyes hungrily lighting up as his fingers caressed the curve.

~•~

She was dying. This was how it would end; trapped in the dirty basement of her crazy ex boyfriend. She never got to meet her baby, or get married, never got to buy her own home, or travel the world. The pain was so much she could barely see. Curled up on the bed Libby groaned into the pillow as the latest contraction squeezed her body in on itself. She was vaguely aware of Scott flapping around the room, he was talking but she couldn’t hear what he was saying. The only thing she could focus on was the mass of the baby’s head sitting right behind her opening, and she was doing everything she could not to push.

The last few hours had been torture. She’d thrashed around the bed, screaming and begging to be freed, to be taken to the hospital. When transition hit she was brought back onto all fours, grunting and pushing without any semblance of control. Scott rubbed her back and encouraged her through it. She didn’t have the strength to bat him off but she did manage to aim her next round of vomiting onto his feet. And all the while Scott refused to unlock the handcuffs and she remained chained to the bed.

Now she was lying on her side over the covers, exhausted, her body completely and utterly drained. Her knees were curled up as much as she could, her bump squashed between her thighs and her breasts. The contractions were right on top of each other and she panted heavily through each one.

Don’t push! Don’t push! Don’t push! she told herself again and again.

“Right, the waters boiled, everything’s disinfected. Clamps and scissors ready. Towel, check. All we need now… is the baby…” Scott muttered, organising and reorganising the equipment.

Ever since the well-timed vomit, he had kept a grateful distance from Libby. He looked through all the toys and clothes in the crib, talking about all the things he would do with his child, trips they’d make, sports they’d play. He was in his own little world, Libby was just a background character.

Relentless contractions kept hitting her one after the other, she breathed as quietly as she could, tears leaking past her lashes from the effort it was taking not to push. She could feel the baby start to stretch her lips, the head inching further and further even without her active pushing. He’d removed her underwear not long after her waters had broken but her dress remained on her sweaty body, thankfully covering her lower half as she laid on the bed. Libby’s legs slightly parted of their own accord as the baby slipped lower. Still curled up on her side, the baby had a clear exit from its mother, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. Scott was ignoring her when she was lying like this and it was the only position that didn’t make her scream. And yet it also proved to be aiding her delivery.

When the next contraction barrelled straight after its predecessor Libby found herself holding her breath and it was only when the burning feeling started that she realised she was pushing. But she couldn’t stop. Gasping another breath she pushed once more, the baby stretching her wider and wider. An involuntary grunt escaped the labouring mother and alerted Scott to her actions.

“Are you…. Libby - are you pushing?! Is it time?” Scott jumped and rushed over to the bed.

Libby curled further over, her face burying into the pillow, squashing her bump and raising her backside. She groaned long and deep as she pushed the baby further out.

“Oh babe, you can’t push like that! You need to get in the correction position for delivery.” Scott said assuredly with all the delusional confidence his “research” had given him.

He took her bent leg, rolling her over onto her back and she screamed. “Scott! No!” The pain was excruciating, her spine was being stabbed, the fire burning between her thighs. She needed to push but she couldn’t when he kept moving her body.

“You need to be in the right position. Come on now, I know what I’m doing.”

“Stop… I can’t… I need to push…” Libby grunted.

“Wait a minute darling, you’re not ready just yet.”

Scott pulled her up to a sitting position and pushed her back against the headboard, pointlessly fluffing the limp old pillows behind her. Her legs were dragged apart and knees were bent and he jumped onto the foot of the bed and looked up her dress.

“Oh my gosh I can see the head!!!” He squealed. He threw her dress up higher, creasing the fabric just below her baby bump, fully exposing Libby’s vagina and the oval shaped crown of the head.

“Push Libby! You can push now!” He urged.

“I’m not-having a contraction-” Libby panted, furious she had been moved into this ridiculous and torturous position. Nothing about it felt right to her body, she wanted to go back on her side, to kneel, squat, anything but this.

“Oh… erm… well on the next one then. Push. No wait, I forgot the equipment.” Scott bounced off the bed and collected all the sterilised equipment he’d been preparing in readiness. “Ha! All that excitement, nearly forgot these.” He placed the items next to him, by her feet. The metal scissors glinted as they caught the light.

A desperate idea began to form in her head, but a contraction soon swept over her and pulled her focus to the burning ring between her thighs.

“Yes!!! Go on Libby! Push!!!” Scott cried.

Curling forward Libby pushed, her body squeezing the baby lower, its head stretching her wider. She grabbed her thighs, gulped another breath, and pushed. The scissors caught the light again with the movement on the bed. If she could just grab them…

“It’s coming, keep it going honey!” Scott yelled and she could feel his trembling hand between her legs.

Libby huffed releasing the push. It was too much, it was too big…

“Come on baby, go again, you’re so close.” Scott urged.

“Hooo-hoooo- okay…. Here it comes….!!!!” Libby threw herself forward curling over her bump once more. With Scott’s focus on the crowning baby she quickly grabbed the scissors and hid them in the gathered fabric of her dress. She screamed as the baby reached a full crown. Panting frantically her body twitched as the baby stretched her so wide she thought she’d be torn in two. Then it slipped further and with a sudden wail the baby’s head was delivered.

“Wow! The heads out, my baby’s head is born.” Scott awed.

Leaning closer his hands trembled towards the newly born head sitting between her thighs. No! You are not touching my baby! Libby thought, and she grabbed the hidden scissors and plunged them straight into Scott’s neck as she released an animalistic maternal wail.

Scott’s eyes bulged out, roaring in agony as the sharp scissors pierced deep into his muscles. He jumped back, standing for the briefest second staring in horror at her, before collapsing to his knees. A drowning choked sound gargled his throat and when he pulled the scissors from his neck the jets of blood sprayed across the room.

Libby watched, in shock at what she’d just done, as Scott clutched his neck, choking and bleeding. After a few strangled seconds he collapsed face first on the ground.

“Oh my god… oh my god….” Libby trembled, adrenaline and fear pumping through every cell in her body. She had to get out of there.

Twisting awkwardly around, she held the handcuff steady with her free hand and pulled her other through the tiny gap. The skin ripped from her hand, the metal scraping bone, she yelled out in pain but didn’t stop pulling until her bloodied hand was free.

It was as if she had left her physical body, the pain a dull echo compared to the survival instinct to get out of this basement. “I’m gonna get you outta here…” she panted, putting a gentle hand over the baby’s head between her legs. She scrambled off the bed, legs bowed as she cupped the head, and rushed toward the stairs of the basement.

Libby was careful, her previous encounter with this wooden staircase not ending well, climbing wide legged step after step towards freedom. She barely made it halfway when she was struck by another contraction. Holding the head with one hand and gripping the bannister tight with the other, her body squatted as it tried to push.

“Mnghhhhhhh! Oohhhhhh hang on baby…. Mnghhhhhh…. Not yet.” She could feel herself pushing hard, the shoulders starting to press against her, itching to come out, but with a firm hand and heavy panting she made it through the contraction.

When she reached upstairs she was surprised how familiar it all was, Scott had taken her here once when they were dating. It wasn’t much, the furniture and decor were dated, but it was a nice family holiday home in a nice rural location. She shuddered when she thought of the secret prison that was hidden below her feet.

Being familiar with the property made her escape easier, she knew the layout and of course where he kept the keys - in the side dish by the fridge. Grabbing the car keys Libby headed for the door and threw it open. But the baby didn’t want to wait any longer.

She hung on to the doorframe for dear life as the raging contraction took hold. “No no no!!!! We’re so close mnnnnnghhhhhh!!!!” Her legs widened as she squatted, pushing uncontrollably against the wall of her hand that held the baby’s head. The shoulders were slipping through… she could feel them stretching… “Ohhh fuck!” She cried, desperately pushing and holding the baby in at the same time.

When the near constant contraction let up just the tiniest bit, Libby made a break for it and ran to the car, both hands between her legs cupping the emerging baby. Unlocking the car with the press of the button she threw open the back door and clambered inside. She quickly locked the door, scared that Scott would somehow still be coming after her, and when she heard the reassuring click of the locks she huffed an exhausted cry.

But the baby was coming, and it was coming now. On her hands and knees in the back seat Libby finally gave in to nature and pushed in earnest, grunting long and deep as the shoulders stretched and slipped out. Lifting up onto her knees to catch the infant she released a primal roar with the final push and the baby slipped into her bloodied hands.

“Ohhhhhh hey baby, it’s okay it’s okay. I’ve got you.” Libby cried, pulling the little boy to her chest. Wiping his face clear he gave a little cough and started crying, soon matched with the tears of his mother.

“We did baby, we got out.” Libby panted and cried, safe with her baby inside the locked car. After a few minutes she wrapped the baby up against her chest with the towel, umbilical cord still connecting mother and child, and she hesitantly opened the door and got into the drivers seat. Starting the engine, Libby drove herself and her new baby to safety.

[archivequinn]

MADNESS (Eddie Munson x American Horror Story: Asylum)

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four

Summary: Three years after his disappearance, Eddie Munson is arrested for the murders of Chrissy Cunningham, Fred Benson, Patrick McKinney and others, but the truth is very different. Unable to convince anyone that Vecna exists and that he is innocent, he is locked up in an asylum. But the only way out is to prove to his psychiatrist that he is not insane. If he fails to convince the psychiatrist, he will be executed as a murderer. He must hurry to do so, because Vecna has returned to finish the bloody unfinished business and take revenge.

As Eddie fights for his life, how far can his psyhiatrist go to save him when she finds out he is innocent? Perhaps the only reason his psychiatrist wants to save him is not because of Eddie's innocence, but because they have developed feelings for each other over time. In the midst of all this confusion, a series of secret experiments on patients in the mental hospital and a series of dark secrets make everything more difficult.

Warnings: Blood and Injury, Mentions of execution, Execution, Death, Mental Health Issues, Asylum, Mental Hospital, Horror, Psychological Horror, Survival Horror, Thriller, Claustrophobia, Prison, Doctor/Patient, Serial Killers, Hospitals, Pain, Depression, Violence, Blood and Violence, Suicidal Thoughts, death of a family member, Nudity, Smut, Sex, Slow Burn, Experiments, Explicit Sexual Content, TraumaPost-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Disorders, Smoking.

Before you read:)

This fan fiction is inspired by American Horror Story: Asylum. It contains a lot of horror and thriller content. Since the story takes place in a mental hospital, there may be various triggers. Please check the tags first as there is a lot of violence, sexuality and depression contents. This story is for adults, so close the page if you are a minor.

Please let me know if there are any tags I forgot to add. ao3 link

John and Violet were sitting across from each other in the cafeteria. Violet stirred her tasteless food with a spoon, her eyes darting to the clock on the wall. She was waiting for the evening shift to begin; it was twenty minutes to five. She was waiting for Brendon's shift to start so she could find out how and where Eddie was.

John noticed the worry on Violet’s face and spoke up. "So, this Max Mayfield you’re talking about, she’s the one who reported Eddie, right?"

Violet sighed. "She did and didn’t. They suspect Vecna used her as a puppet," she said.

Amid the chaos of the last few days, Violet had told John everything: the information in Eddie’s file, what Steve and the others had said… It wasn’t easy to process, but John was experienced because he used to be a cop and quickly grasped the situation.

"Which means the only people who can get you out of here are Steve and the others," John said. "Do they even know Max is here?"

Violet shrugged. "I don’t know," she said thoughtfully. "But why would they bring her to the same mental hospital as the guy who ‘almost killed’ her and ‘put her in a coma’?" She made air quotes, sarcastically emphasizing the points Eddie was accused of.

John smirked slightly. "We need to find a way to reach that Steve guy," he said.

Violet nodded in agreement. "How did Eddie reach him? Could we do it the same way?"

John shook his head negatively. "We snuck into the manager’s office and made a call. It was pure luck. And we got caught that time too—you saw what they did to Eddie. We can’t take that risk again," he said.

"Can’t Brendon make a call?" Violet asked.

John took a deep breath and shrugged. "Since we escaped, they’ve tightened security. They even look at the staff’s calls. So, that’s not really an option," he said.

Just then, the cafeteria door opened, and Brendon entered, carrying a metal tray with bandages, scissors, and other medical supplies. Violet stood up excitedly. Brendon approached and began to gently remove the bandage from her head.

"Eddie’s in a cell," Brendon said in a low voice. "He’s okay but very worried about you."

Hearing this, Violet’s anxiety eased a little, but she still wanted to see Eddie. "Can I see him? Will you take me to him?" she asked.

Brendon shook his head. "You’re no longer a doctor here, Violet. To get in there, you’d have to get yourself into trouble or something. And even then, I doubt they’d let you two be in the same cell," he said.

John raised both hands in mock surrender, letting out a small laugh. "Looks like it’s up to me again," he said in a joking tone.

Violet was about to give him a puzzled look when she noticed Dr Oliver and Wilson coming through the door. Oliver was feverishly explaining something to the manager. Violet turned her attention to them to listen to their conversation.

Oliver's voice was serious. “Mr. Wilson, the condition of these patients is truly appalling. They need care. How do you expect them to get better when they live in zero hygiene and cannot feel comfortable?”

Wilson responded with a nonchalant attitude “I already have too few staff and too many patients. As if that wasn't enough, you came all the way from Michigan. Be grateful if you can find a seat for yourself. Let me run my hospital and you go about your business.’’

Violet couldn’t help but smile inwardly at the exchange. Oliver’s naive determination felt familiar to her. It was like experiencing déjà vu. However, she knew it wouldn’t take long for him to learn how terrible this place truly was.

John winked at her and leaned slightly closer, whispering, "Wilson’s here. It’s time."

John’s angry outburst had caught the attention of the other patients in the cafeteria. Pointing his index finger at Violet in a threatening manner, his voice grew louder.

"Are you calling me an arsonist?!" he shouted. The wave of anger in John’s voice echoed in the room as Brendon glanced at Violet and signaled her to get up. Violet hesitated for only a moment before rising to her feet. It didn’t take her long to get into character and step toward John.

"Aren’t you? We’re back here because of you, you idiot! If you had driven properly, we’d be free now!" Violet retorted, unable to hold back her anger. "Where’d you get your license? A butcher shop? Oh wait, probably from a stove maker, since you’re so good with fire." She mimicked a lighter with her hands, mocking him.

John, furious at Violet’s sarcastic remarks, stormed toward her, closing the gap between them. Now, they were standing almost nose to nose. "At least I’m not stuck as a patient in the hospital I came to as a doctor, you lunatic!" he yelled, then suddenly leaned closer to her face and said in a low tone, "Hit me." He was trying to turn the situation to his advantage while everyone was watching.

Violet hesitated, staring at him as if she hadn’t fully understood his words. She noticed Wilson and Dr. Oliver watching the commotion from the other side of the cafeteria. Responding to John’s demand, she clenched her fist and delivered a sharp punch. At that moment, Brendon stepped in to separate them, but John wasn’t idle either. He threw kicks at Violet, intentionally missing. Violet struck a bit harder, ensuring it looked realistic.

Dr Oliver panicked and rushed over. "Please calm down; we can resolve this through conversation," he pleaded, trying to ease the tension. 

But Wilson had run out of patience. Pointing at Violet and John, he barked at Brendon, "Take them to the cells in the basement so they can cool off."

Violet barely restrained herself from smiling. Internally, she was quite pleased for having roughed up John a bit. Brendon nodded like a soldier receiving orders and grabbed both of them by the collars, escorting them out of the cafeteria. Violet could hear Oliver protesting behind Wilson, complaining about the ’’this method of punishment is barbaric and contrary to human rights’’ but she only rolled her eyes.

They began walking toward an unknown part of the hospital. The stairs seemed endless; Violet couldn’t help but think, "We’re descending all the way to hell." At last, at the bottom of the stairs, Brendon released their collars. Violet and John walked ahead now, with Brendon quietly accompanying them.

John turned to Violet with a faint smirk. "For someone so small, you sure hit hard," he said.

Violet laughed. "And for someone with all those muscles, you scream like a little girl," she shot back. John rolled his eyes but allowed a small smile to escape.

"My whole body hurts from the crash," John added. "I’ll get my rematch when I’m in better shape."

Brendon chuckled at their exchange. "You were like this when we were kids too. Always had an excuse when you lost," he said.

Violet looked at Brendon in surprise. "When you were kids? How long have you been police partners anyway?" she asked. John gave her the same surprised look.

"Partners?" he said, pursing his lips. "We’re brothers."

Violet took a step back in astonishment, studying them both carefully. "But I saw... both of you in the news article. In police uniforms," she said.

Brendon smiled. "Can’t brothers do the same job?" he replied. Violet suddenly felt like everything clicked into place. Brendon’s willingness to take such great risks made sense now; he wasn’t just here for a friend—he was here to save his brother.

Brendon stopped in front of a heavy iron door. "We’re here," he announced. Violet now focused on the scene before her. The corridor was lined with dark, narrow cells, each resembling a prison block. Behind the bars, there was only a single, uncomfortable-looking bed in each cell. The stench was so overpowering that Violet almost longed for the smell of the cafeteria upstairs.

From one of the cells, there was a stir. Violet spotted a familiar face and rushed to the bars. It was Eddie. Violet reached her hands through the bars, and Eddie’s hands clasped around hers. He had a few scratches on his face but seemed to have fared relatively well after the crash.

Brendon opened a cell for Violet and guided her inside. John was placed in the cell opposite hers. "You have a therapy session in an hour," Brendon said, pointing at Violet.

"Who’s my doctor?" she asked with a frown.

"Oliver Owsen," Brendon replied.

Violet thought for a moment and added, "Tell him to come and get me from here. I want him to see what this place is like."

Brendon nodded. As he moved to leave, Violet called out once more, "Brendon, is there a chance I could change my cellmate?"

"I’ll see what I can do," Brendon said, disappearing quickly down the corridor.

The echo of Brendon's retreating footsteps faded into the cold corridor walls. When Violet turned around, she noticed the familiar goofy grin on Eddie's face. Their hands met again through the bars, Eddie's warm palms grounding Violet's scattered emotions.

Eddie asked curiously, "How did you end up here?"

The answer came from John in the next cell. Waving his finger with a mildly warning tone, he said, "Careful with this girl, man. If you hurt her, she might kick you so hard you'll never have kids."

Eddie laughed at the comment, his grin widening. Reaching through the bars, he gently stroked Violet's hair, then pulled her closer, inhaling the scent of her hair. His lips still nestled there, he spoke teasingly, "What’s this about a cellmate situation? What did I miss now? This damned hospital can’t go a day without drama."

Violet responded with a laugh, collapsing onto the so-called "bed," an uncomfortable excuse for furniture. Eddie, meanwhile, sat on the floor of his cell, but his hand never left Violet's through the bars.

"They’ve evacuated the Michigan hospital here," Violet explained, detailing the situation. "New patients and staff have arrived. Temporarily, at least."

Eddie winked and muttered with a mischievous grin, "Here’s hoping I get a cute chick as a cellmate."

Violet swatted his hand playfully, then turned curiously to John. "We saw Eddie’s name there. We didn’t even check the one next to it. Got so caught up in my mess, we forgot."

John frowned slightly, puzzled. "Fred something. I don’t remember the last name."

Eddie nudged Violet's hand. "Your mess? What’s happened to you?"

This was the hardest part for Violet. Eddie was unaware of what Steve and the others had told her. He didn’t know that Max had woken up and reported him to the police. Violet hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and began to speak.

"Eddie, listen carefully to what I’m about to say. You know how I told you I knew you were innocent..." Violet’s voice wavered slightly. Eddie’s brown eyes looked at her with patience and curiosity. Finally, she admitted, "Max woke up."

Eddie’s eyes lit up with excitement. "Are you serious? That’s amazing news!"

Violet glanced at John for help, but he was nervously chewing his nails. Sighing, she turned back to Eddie.

The expression on his face shifted, sensing something was wrong. Violet closed her eyes and summoned her courage to reveal the truth she had been hiding.

"...And now I don’t know why she’s here, but she’s going to be staying in my room."

Those words made Eddie grip her hand tighter. His voice trembled, and his eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Violet... you can’t stay with her... I won’t let you..."

Violet averted her gaze from Eddie's misty eyes. But John’s muffled voice startled her. Pressing his hands and head against the bars, John muttered, "What do we even have left at this point?"

A gloomy silence filled around. Violet responded quietly, "We stole the file that proved what Dr. Arthur did, but they got it back. They’ve probably destroyed it by now."

Eddie let out a heavy sigh, adding, "The only person who could prove my innocence woke up, and now she’s Vecna’s puppet. I’ve got a one-way ticket to the electric chair."

John barked out a harsh laugh. "And anyone who could help us escape thinks we’re dead. We can’t make calls, and we can’t ask Brendon to because we’re being listened to."

In the midst of this dark atmosphere, an idea sparked in Violet’s mind. A smile crept across her lips. "If we can’t talk... we’ll write."

Eddie and John looked at each other, then at Violet. But just as the idea began to take shape, the sound of approaching footsteps made Violet motion for them to be silent. The newcomers were Brendon and Oliver. The sight of the prison-like cells seemed to horrify Oliver, who looked visibly shaken.

Violet thought mockingly, You think it’s bad? You should see WARD C, doctor.

Oliver introduced himself nervously, his voice trembling. ''Violet George, I’m your doctor, Oliver Owsen."

Oliver’s extended hand reached through the bars to shake Violet’s. However, his eyes were carefully examining Eddie from head to toe. Eddie, silent behind the bars, observed Oliver while Violet didn’t let go of Eddie’s hand.

Oliver, “I’m here to get you out of here.”

Violet, “I’ll only leave if my friends come with me.”

Oliver glanced first at Eddie, then at John. His expression revealed that he understood how difficult Violet’s demand was.

Oliver “I’m afraid your friends are not my patients. It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to do that.”

Violet shrugged, responding with a nonchalant tone, “Then I’m not going.”

A hint of embarrassment spread across Oliver’s face. He looked like someone trying to do his job but caught in the middle of a chaotic situation. Violet didn’t doubt Oliver’s sincerity; however, she knew he wouldn’t be able to see the bigger picture of what was happening within this system. She could explain everything to him right now, but the risk was too great. She decided to start her plan from a simpler angle.

Violet nodded toward Eddie. “You see that man standing there, right?”

Oliver nodded affirmatively.

Violet, “You’ve heard about the murders in Hawkins, haven’t you? Well, he’s the one responsible for them.”

A noticeable fear flickered in Oliver’s eyes. Eddie, seated on his bed with his head in his hands, seemed oblivious to what Violet was saying.

Violet “Now, do you know who my roommate is?” whispered.

This time, Oliver shook his head no.

“It’s Max Mayfield, the girl he almost killed. Now think about it: Does this hospital really care about its rules? I think you need to transfer this patient immediately. Otherwise, Eddie Munson might finish what he started and kill Max. And wouldn’t that also put my life in danger? After all, I’m sharing a room with Max. And you’re my doctor. You’re responsible for me.”

The sound of Oliver swallowing filled the corridor. Behind them, John silently made a gesture of awe, as if to say, Wow. He hadn’t expected Violet to come up with such a plan.

Eddie, his face expressionless, stepped toward the bars. Even though Oliver was outside, he instinctively took a step back. Eddie began speaking in a mocking tone, “If I see that redhead again, tell her I’ll rip her head off this time. I’ve got one more sacrifice to offer the Devil.”

Oliver swallowed again. Then, turning to Brendon, he motioned with his head to unlock the doors. As Brendon unlocked Violet’s cell, he gave her a look of admiration mixed with astonishment.

Violet struggled to hold back her laughter. Madness had its charm sometimes. Whatever you did, no one questioned you. After all, you were insane.

When they emerged from the basement cells and reached the upper floors, Violet took a deep breath. Eddie approached her quietly from behind and whispered in her ear, “I’ll be waiting for you in the common room.”

Violet left the common room, smiling, to follow Oliver. She didn’t know much about this new doctor, but that didn’t matter—for now, all she needed was the pen she had to get from Oliver. When they entered his office, she slumped into a chair, crossing her arms over her stomach and one leg over the other. She planned to leave after answering the routine questions.

Oliver sat at his desk, reviewing a file. His brows were furrowed, as if he were puzzled. After glancing at Violet a few times, he finally asked, “Do you know what day it is today, Mrs George?”

“You can call me Violet,” she replied with a faint smile. “It’s Wednesday.”

Oliver nodded, smiling. “Alright, Violet. Do you know why you’re here?”

Violet tried not to roll her eyes at the routine question. She was here because the crimes pinned on Eddie and the creature Vecna chasing her had led to this point. Of course, she couldn’t explain everything, but she could have a bit of fun.

“The creature Vecna, who made sure all the crimes were pinned on Eddie, started chasing me. So, I was escaping from the hospital to get away from it. Oh, and at the same time, I was going to expose the aliens from the experiments that asshole Dr Arthur conducted on people to the entire world.”

The look of shock on Oliver’s face was almost comical. He glanced back at the file and scribbled something with his pen.

“Given your scores and professional background, I find it very surprising you’re saying such things,” he said in a serious tone. “I thought you might be here because of a misunderstanding. Are you serious?”

Violet answered with a laugh. “Of course I’m not serious.” The relief on Oliver’s face was fleeting.

Violet stifled her laughter as she continued. “I mean, I admit I exaggerated with the aliens. Zombies would’ve been more accurate.”

Oliver froze for a moment before slowly tucking his pen into the outer breast pocket of his doctor’s coat. “I think I’ve tired you enough for today... I have other patients to see,” he said, closing the file. His voice carried a hint of disappointment; his inexperience was obvious.

Violet stood up and was about to leave when a nurse entered the room. “Mr. Owsen, your next patient, Fred Kirk, is waiting at the door.”

Fred Kirk... That name sounded familiar to her. Violet’s mind worked quickly. She took a few steps closer to Oliver and suddenly asked, “Can I give you a hug? Thank you for listening to me.”

Oliver stared at her, unsure of what to say, and Violet hugged him tightly, swiftly snatching the pen with a quick movement of her hand. Then she left the room.

She returned to the common room at a brisk pace. John and Eddie were chatting on the couches. Violet quickly jumped between them. Eddie turned to her and asked curiously.

“Hey, what was the plan? How are we going to reach Steve?”

“If we can’t call him, we’ll write. We’ll send him a letter. Brendon can deliver it, right?” Violet said, determination shining in her eyes.

John nodded in agreement. “But how are we supposed to write? In case you haven’t noticed, even the forks and knives are plastic. You can’t find anything that could be used as a weapon. Not even a pen.”

Violet pulled the pen from her pocket and smiled triumphantly. Eddie looked at her in awe and asked, “Where did you find that?”

Shrugging, Violet replied with a sly expression, “I guess I had to suck up to my doctor a little.”

John raised the question, “What about paper?” 

Eddie laughed and said, “We can write on toilet paper.” Just then, John pulled out a napkin from his pocket and held it out. Violet and Eddie stared at him blankly.

“What? My nose runs. I carry tissues,” John said defensively.

Eddie squinted at him mischievously. “I hope it’s just for your nose,” he said.

Violet rolled her eyes. “Come on, guys, we need to figure out what to write.”

John suggested the simplest message, as if he’d come up with something groundbreaking, “We’re not dead, we’re alive, get us out of here.”

Eddie shook his head, lightly hitting John on the head. “Why don’t we include Arthur’s entire plan too, while we’re at it? Are you crazy? How did you ever work as a cop? What if they read the letter? If they catch us, it’ll be at least three hundred volts for us this time.”

Eddie took the pen and napkin and started writing something. Then he handed it over with a grin. Violet read it aloud curiously, “The Shire is burning, Mordor is burning. But a hobbit never gives up.”

John turned to Eddie with a serious expression. “Mine made more sense. What is this supposed to mean?”

Eddie just rolled his eyes. “You just give it to Brendon, and he’ll send it to Dustin Henderson. That kid’s a genius. He’ll know it’s from me.”

As John tucked the letter into his pocket, Violet’s attention shifted to the new patients in the common room. She hadn’t seen Max yet. Doctor Oliver was now speaking with his new patient. Violet whispered, “Why does the name Fred Kirk sound so familiar?”

John had no hesitation explaining. “Fred Kirk? You mean the Brooklyn Axeman?”

Violet turned to him in fear. “What?”

John shrugged. “It was one of the cases I worked on before they locked me up here. The guy’s a serial killer. He murders his victims with an ax. Last I heard, he was caught and institutionalized. Why do you ask? You probably saw it on the news. It was a big deal.”

Violet pointed to the blond man and asked, nearly trembling, “Please tell me that’s not him.”

John and Eddie both looked in the direction she indicated. John tilted his head and calmly said, “Alright... I won’t tell you.” 

Eddie sighed and added, “Just what we needed, a serial killer. Fantastic.”

Violet took a deep breath and voiced an even darker realization, “Eddie, I’m not sure but I think he’s going to be your cellmate.”

Violet entered the common room in the morning, and Eddie noticed her immediately. He quickly walked over to her and hugged her tightly. “Are you okay?” he asked, looking into her eyes with concern. Violet nodded in affirmation, then answered in a weary voice, “Are you okay?”

Eddie shrugged. “My roommate broke someone’s nose on the first day, so he’ll be stuck in a cell for a few days. So yeah, I was alone yesterday. What about you? Did you see Max?”

Violet shook her head. “No, I was alone too,” she said.

When Violet noticed John smoking a cigarette on the couch behind Eddie, she frowned. “Where did he even get that cigarette?” she asked. Eddie rolled his eyes and gave her a look that said, Don’t even ask.

“Brendon came by before you arrived,” Eddie said, changing the subject. “He sent the letter yesterday by the fastest mail service. It probably reached them last night.”

“What letter?” a voice asked suddenly, making them both turn in the same direction at the same time.

Hearing a shaky, hurt voice, they both froze for a moment. A red-haired girl with tear-filled eyes and trembling hands was looking at them, embarrassed but scared. Violet guessed she couldn’t be more than 18 or 19 years old. The shock on Eddie’s face was unmistakable. “Max?” Eddie said, his voice filled with uncertainty. Max immediately ran toward him, throwing her arms around him and sobbing uncontrollably.

Eddie stood still for a few seconds, then finally hugged her back. Violet watched them in astonishment. Eddie pulled away slightly, holding Max by her shoulders, and bent down so that their faces were level. “Is it really you?” he asked. Max nodded while wiping her tears.

“When I woke up here, I opened my eyes. I don’t know what’s going on. What are you doing here? What am I doing here? Are we... dead?” Max asked, her voice trembling. Eddie glanced at Violet; they were both thinking the same thing. Could Vecna have used Max to lure them here and then disappeared? Or was this some sort of trap? They had to tread carefully until they figured it out.

Max turned to Eddie and asked, “Why are they still keeping you here? Why am I here? If I’ve woken up, can’t we prove you’re innocent now?”

Violet shrugged but said nothing. If Max found out she had played a role in Eddie being locked up here, she might just have a heart attack on the spot, Violet thought to herself.

Deep down, Violet was sure Max was genuinely herself. Looking at her, she didn’t sense the dark, ominous presence she had felt when confronting Vecna. That intense fear she had once experienced wasn’t there when she looked into Max’s eyes now.

Max wasn’t done with her questions. “And what’s this letter about?”

Before Violet could respond, John cut in, gesturing toward Eddie and Violet with his cigarette.

“These two idiots—everyone thinks they’re dead. But as you can see, they’re right here, alive and kicking. See?” John said, nudging Eddie with his foot. Eddie lightly smacked John’s leg in return, grumbling irritably.

Max continued anxiously, “Did you send it to guys? I hope they don’t make the mistake of calling here. If they do, the people here will know you’ve been communicating with them.”

Eddie smiled faintly and shrugged. “I don’t think they’d do something that dumb. I mean, these guys saved the world. More than once.”

Just then, a nurse approached Violet. “Dr. Oliver Owsen is expecting you,” he said in a formal tone.

Violet sighed, standing up, and began walking toward the doctor seated at a nearby table. “Another day of pretending to be crazy,” she thought to herself. This charade, in a way, was starting to amuse her.

She had even managed to scare the doctor about Eddie. She now realized how much fun Eddie had been having with her in their therapy sessions before Eddie's innocence was exposed.The man was afraid of everything.

Here, people could do anything—spit on the floor, behave disgustingly, or even walk around naked—and no one cared. Because you were ‘crazy,’ and that made everything acceptable. Violet pulled a chair and sat across from the doctor, her eyes still on Eddie in the background.

Oliver coughed lightly to draw attention. Violet turned her gaze away from Eddie to him, then sank back into her chair, folding her arms across her chest. The seriousness on his face made it clear that this wasn’t going to be an ordinary conversation.

“Violet, I need to ask you something,” Oliver said in a low but determined voice.

Violet tilted her head back and took a deep breath. “Are you going to ask me what day it is today?” she asked in a slightly sarcastic tone.

“No,” Oliver replied, ignoring her reaction. “I want to ask you something about a patient.”

This unexpected response piqued Violet’s interest. She raised her head curiously and looked at Oliver’s face attentively. “Have you ever heard of a patient named Ginny Jones here? Or seen her?” he asked.

After a brief pause, Violet shook her head to indicate no. “Why are you asking?” she replied, somewhat cautiously.

“There’s a reason I came here. I’m not here by coincidence. I’m looking for someone,” Oliver said, his voice carrying a stronger emphasis.

Violet sighed, lifting her hands in a gesture of indifference, and yawned. “Everyone’s looking for someone, buddy. That’s life,” she replied, with little interest.

“Violet, I’m asking you to be yourself for a few seconds,” Oliver said impatiently. “It’s obvious that this isn’t you. I can see how intelligent you are. I’ll pretend to believe your crazy stories again, I promise. But right now, I need your help. I went to the corridor of Ward C that you mentioned yesterday. All the rooms had been cleared out. Someone had taken everything there in a hurry.”

At these words, Violet raised her eyebrows and began listening to Oliver more attentively. She was now certain that he was really here looking for someone. The concern in his voice made it clear how important that person was to him.

“I wish I could help you,” Violet said, with a slight hint of regret, “but I’ve never even heard of the person you’re talking about while working here.”

Oliver fell silent for a moment, rubbing his forehead with his hand. “Tell me about this Dr. Arthur,” he said finally. “And his experiments.”

Violet fell into deep thought at this point. She knew one of the biggest shortcomings here was belief. No one would believe you if you said you saw a ghost, had a murderer chasing you, or claimed that you weren’t actually insane. But if someone did believe you, it either meant they had also lost their mind or they truly knew something.

She was certain that Oliver wasn’t a madman. The fire of vengeance in his eyes showed that he was capable of truly doing something about it.

John turned to Eddie, his expression curious as he broke the silence. "What’s wrong, man?" he asked, his voice low.

Eddie tilted his head toward Oliver and Violet, his jaw tightening slightly as he watched the two of them deep in conversation. "Him," Eddie said, nodding toward Oliver. "His existence is enough."

John raised an eyebrow. "What happened?"

"There doesn’t need to be a reason. There’s just something... off about him," Eddie replied, a hint of irritation in his tone. "I can feel it."

John shrugged, his casual demeanor unbothered. "He’s just doing his job," he pointed out.

Eddie’s eyes narrowed as he leaned forward. "There’s something weird about him. I can sense it."

Before John could respond, a staff member entered the room. John quickly tossed his cigarette to the ground, stomping on it hastily, his hand fanning away the lingering smoke. 

Eddie stretched out on the couch, arms folded behind his head, while Max sat nearby, her gaze darting nervously around the room.

"You’ll get used to it in a few days, Max," Eddie said, a teasing grin spreading across his face.

Max rolled her eyes. "I’m not crazy, Eddie."

Eddie let out a sharp laugh. "But I am. The sooner you accept it, the easier it gets."

John nudged Eddie’s leg with his hand, an insistent poke that drew Eddie’s attention.

"What now?" Eddie snapped, feigning exasperation. "Can’t you leave me alone for two minutes? You’re exhausting."

The playful remark hung in the air as Eddie’s gaze wandered to the ceiling, his eyes tracing the outlines of the religious motifs painted above.

John cleared his throat. "Uh, Eddie?"

"Hmm?" Eddie muttered without looking at him.

"Those friends you always talk about—Steve and, uh, what’s-his-name..."

Eddie turned his head, his brow furrowing. "Yeah, what about them?"

"You said they weren’t dumb enough to call here," John said, his voice cautious.

Eddie sat up straight, his posture suddenly alert. 

His gaze followed John’s, locking onto the sight of Steve standing in the hallway, wearing a blue patient outfit, his curious eyes peering into the room. Beside him was Jonathan.

Rubbing his eyes as if to ensure he wasn’t dreaming, Eddie glanced at Max, who looked back at him with equal disbelief.

"Yeah," Eddie muttered, his voice dripping with irritation. "I was wrong. They’re even dumber than I thought."

Eddie stormed toward Steve, whose grin stretched so wide it showcased every one of his teeth. Steve nudged Jonathan with his elbow, who also broke into a smile upon seeing Eddie.

Their expressions faltered, though, as Eddie’s face grew darker the closer he got. Without hesitation, Eddie smacked each of them on the back of the head.

"What are you idiots doing here?" Eddie demanded, his tone sharp. "Steve, did you forget where the hairdresser’s is? And you, Jonathan? I thought you were the smart one!"

Steve raised a finger to his lips, motioning for Eddie to lower his voice. "You might want to yell a little louder," Steve quipped. "That mustached lady over there didn’t hear you."

Across the room, a woman seated alone at a table playing with domino tiles raised her hand. "I heard you, sweetheart," she called out.

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh despite himself, though the irritation lingered on Steve’s face.

Steve leaned in slightly, his voice more subdued. "Hopper got us in. We’re here to help you."

John, now chewing on a gum, glanced between Eddie and his friends, his expression unimpressed. "Great. Did  this Hopper guy also mention there’s no way out once you’re in here?"

Jonathan and Steve exchanged uneasy glances, but Eddie’s frustration boiled over. His teeth clenched as he grabbed both of them by the arms and dragged them to a corner.

"Vecna’s in Max, huh?" Eddie hissed. "That’s what you told Violet?"

Steve hesitated, his expression grim. "I don’t think so anymore," he admitted. "Actually, part of why we’re here is because of that. Vecna’s weak right now. Even if he picks a new victim, he doesn’t have the strength to take their life. So he’s waiting—for the weakest moment, the most miserable time."

"Dustin said the best place for that would be..." Jonathan started.

"An asylum," Steve finished for him.

Eddie raised his hand like a student seeking permission to speak. "Hold on a second. Are you telling me Vecna could possess anyone here?"

Steve nodded solemnly, confirming Eddie’s worst fear.

Steve’s voice carried a determined and calm confidence. "The more of us there are here, the safer we’ll be," he said. "We have to back each other up. They’re going to release Max today. She’s going to change the statement she gave about you. Once you’re out, we’ll get out too."

A shadow crossed Eddie’s face, his gaze trembling with worry. "What about Violet?" he asked, his voice slightly rising. "And John?"

Jonathan gently placed a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, his eyes carrying a soothing expression. "One thing at a time, Eddie" he said softly. "Let’s get you out first."

Eddie turned his head and gestured toward Max, who was sitting in the corner of the room. His gaze revealed a deep concern. "Don’t you think we should check if Vecna is inside her before we send her out of here?" he asked, his words hanging in the air like an echo.

Steve frowned, pausing for a moment as if in thought, then spoke as though he had figured it out. "Vecna hates heat," he said.

Jonathan nodded in agreement, his expression hinting at an answer to Eddie’s worry. "When he got into Will, he ran away from the fire in fear," he added. "We have a chance."

Steve’s gaze wandered around the room as he continued with a bit more hesitation. "But where are we going to find fire in here?"

A faint smile appeared on Eddie’s face. His eyes shifted to John, who was lighting a cigarette across the room. "I know," he said.

taglist: @arabellagreenleaf @cokepowder55 @nessa3nessa @25bohemianmoons @nicholaschavezslut69 @multyfangirl @t-folklore13

[toomanythoughts2]

How Dethklok Met: A Timeline Theory

I recently got an anonymous Ask asking, "What are your thoughts – in what order did Dethklok members join the band ? or how did they meet ?"

Originally, I was going to answer the question in that Ask but, my response became much larger than intended. So, naturally, I needed to make a separate post explaining my theory on their timeline, because I do have one!

Just a disclaimer, you don't have to agree with this theory about ages, the order they met, or how they met. This is not meant to discredit anyone's personal HCs. A lot of this is based on small details in the show, interviews, special features, and my own deductive research. Your own HCs on their ages, the order they met, or how they met is completely valid.

As always, longer analysis is under the cut.

What Do We know?

First, lets compile what we do know about the band to establish from groundwork.

Ages: Dethkloks canon age order, answered by Brendon in a AMA, is (oldest to youngest), Pickles, Murderface, Nathan & Skwisgaar, Toki. x

Pickles was "no older than 16" when he started Snakes N' Barrels and the band lasted from the 80's to the 90's. ("Snakes N' Barrels")

We have the start and finish of the order of the band forming, Nathan and Toki.

Skwisgaar was already a well known guitar player before Dethklok, playing in multiple other metal bands. ("Snakes N' Barrels")

Murderface has been to Pickles childhood home to have dinner with him and his parents. (DVD Special. Food - Interview.)

Pickles left Snakes N' Barrels looking for "heavier music" and there is no mention of a band between Snakes N' Barrels and Dethklok. ("Snakes N' Barrels")

We do not know the age of Magnus.

From this list, I can start to build a timeline, starting from Pickles.

Ages

Before we can talk about how they all met, we need to look at their possible ages. No one in the show has a confirmed age, we only know ranges and a hierarchy. However, using the information we got from Brendon and the episode "Snakes N' Barrels", I can craft a rough timeline for their ages.

Disclaimer: These ages are subjective and fluid. There is a lot of wiggle room. For the sake of the timeline, I will be basing my years on the year that Metalocalypse was first aired, which is 2006. The first episode of Metalocalypse states that the band had been together for 10 years, which would mean they got together in 1996.

1996 - Band formed

2006 - First episode aired

Pickles

Because Pickles has the most information about him, we will start from him and using his ages to guesstimate the others.

We know that Pickles was 16 (Or no older than 16) when he made Snakes N' Barrels. SNB formed in the 80's and died off somewhere in the 90's. This would put Pickles' birthday year somewhere in the 60's. If we believe that Pickles was 16 in 1980 (The start of SNB), that makes his birthday year 1964.

He leaves Snakes N' Barrels looking for heavier music. Pickles is 26 when he leaves (1990, the end of SNB), and 32 when we know he is in Dethklok (1996). (Pickles could have been between 26 to 32 when he first joined, but we know for sure that he was in the band by the time Dethklok is signed and Toki arrives.) Which would make him 42 by the time the show start in 2006, 10 years later. [Honestly makes Seth's situation even worse] This also makes a little bit of sense as to why Pickles' shaved off his goatee between Snake' N' Barrels and Dethklok. It's possibly to look younger since he was starting a band with people significantly younger than him and felt self conscious.

1964~ - Pickles is born

1980~ - Pickles starts SNB at age 16

1990~ - Pickles leaves SNB at age 26

1996 - Pickles is in Dethklok at age 32 (Could have joined between 26 to 32)

2006 - Pickles is in Dethklok at age 42.

Nathan

In, "Go Forth and Die", we find out that Nathan did not graduate high school. However, in an in-character interview, Nathan has been in bands since high school and has been looking for a specific band since childhood x.

In, "Dethcamp", we see a younger Nathan who has a similar physical appearance to his football picture in "Go Forth and Die". His hair, in the flashback of "Dethcamp" and "Renovationklok" is not as long as we know it to be during present day episodes.

Typical ages for high school kids in America is 14 - 18. (Granted, while I do believe that Nathan probably had extra help in school or could have possibly been held back for his speech, there's nothing to indicate that he was, so I'm assuming that he went through the school system normally.)

In "Go Forth and Die", Nathan wants to get his degree, and all he has to do is take the G.E.D. test. Getting a G.E.D is a little more complicated though than just taking a test. It does require people to take classes then take 4 separate tests in 4 subject matters. (Though, he could have paid to compile them into one test.) For Nathan to only need to take the test(s), says just how far in high school he did get. I would say probably senior year. Maybe junior year, but definitely senior year, for sure. (Note: Floridians can drop out of the high school at age 16 legally, with a parent signature. But, with Nathan's dad being a military man, he probably kept Nathan in school until Nathan turned into a legal adult and couldn't stop him.)

Dropping out in senior year would make Nathan either 17 or 18 when he dropped out and started looking for bandmembers to join Dethklok. Time passed because his hair grew from his ears to the middle of his pecs, going off his football picture in "Go Forth and Die".

Going off of Pickles' departure in the 90's (1990), that gives us 6 years to work with. Because of his hair length, I would say that it took a few years to gather everyone.

Lets go off the idea that Nathan is 18 when he drops out of high school in 1990. He's got short hair and a dream to start a band. Pickles is just then leaving Snakes N' Barrels to find heavier music. Nathan could have been anywhere between 18 to 23 when he met Pickles. This would give him enough time for his hair to grow out from the top of his ears to the middle of his pec, while also maintaining his high school jock physique. He would be 23 in 1996, when the band officially starts. Then in 2006, he would be 33.

1964~ - Pickles is born

1973~ - Nathan is born

1980~ - Pickles starts SNB at age 16

1990~ - Pickles leaves SNB at age 26

1990~ - Nathan drops out of high school at age 18

1996 - Nathan is in Dethklok at age 23 (Started between 18 to 23)

1996 - Pickles is in Dethklok at age 32 (Could have joined between 26 to 32)

2006 - Pickles is in Dethklok at age 42

2006 - Nathan is in Dethklok at age 33

Skwisgaar

Skwisgaar is the same age as Nathan, so he would also be 23 in 1996 and 33 in 2006. Skwisgaar's hair growth also makes sense. In "Fatherklok", Skwisgaar rocked a bob that touched the back of his head, which is much longer than Nathan's short cropped hair. (As long as Skwisgaar did not cut his hair drastically since "Fatherklok", the hair growth theory is pretty accurate. Skwisgaar is presenting younger than a high schooler as well, so take this with a grain of salt.)

So, by the time he joined Dethklok, his hair would have been the right length that we normally see it in the show.

1964~ - Pickles is born

1973~ - Nathan is born

1973~ - Skwisgaar is born

1980~ - Pickles starts SNB at age 16

1990~ - Pickles leaves SNB at age 26

1990~ - Nathan drops out of high school at age 18

1996 - Nathan is in Dethklok at age 23 (Started between 18 to 23)

1996 - Pickles is in Dethklok at age 32 (Could have joined between 26 to 32)

1996 - Skwisgaar is in Dethklok at age 23 (Could have joined at 18 to 23)

2006 - Pickles is in Dethklok at age 42

2006 - Nathan is in Dethklok at age 33

2006 - Skwisgaar is in Dethklok at age 33

Murderface

Murderface is going to be tricky as we have almost nothing to back up his age, other than a range. What we do know is that he's younger than Pickles (32 in 1996) but older than Nathan and Skwisgaar (23 in 1996) That's a 8 year gap we can play with. So Murderface could be 31 to 24 when he first joins Dethklok.

However! We do have the Dethcomics for possible guidance. (I know they aren't canon, but this is all I got.)

Looking at Murderface's appearance in his flashbacks in high school in the comics and looking at the flashback from "Dethcamp" and "Renovationklok", Murderface looks very similar. A 31 year old isn't going to look like an 18 year old. So, I don't believe he is 31 or 30. He's also much thinner, in the face and body. 24 feels too close to Nathan and Skwisgaar's ages, and if he was that close, I think Brendon would have just put all three of them together. So that leaves 29 to 25. I think, because he does still look so similar to his high school years, that he is probably 26. (Honestly, it's really up to whatever you prefer, but I think this age makes the most sense.) So that makes Murderface 26 in 1996, and 36 in 2006.

1964~ - Pickles is born

1970~ - Murderface is born

1973~ - Nathan is born

1973~ - Skwisgaar is born

1980~ - Pickles starts SNB at age 16

1990~ - Pickles leaves SNB at age 26

1990~ - Nathan drops out of high school at age 18

1996 - Nathan is in Dethklok at age 23 (Started between 18 to 23)

1996 - Pickles is in Dethklok at age 32 (Could have joined between 26 to 32)

1996 - Skwisgaar is in Dethklok at age 23 (Could have joined at 18 to 23)

1996 - Murderface is in Dethklok at age 26 (Could have join at 20 to 26)

2006 - Pickles is in Dethklok at age 42

2006 - Nathan is in Dethklok at age 33

2006 - Skwisgaar is in Dethklok at age 33

2006 - Murderface is in Dethklok at age 36

Toki

Toki is a minor or an older teen when he joins Dethklok, we know this because of Doomstar. Specifically, if we look at "I Believe. when Toki is getting dressed and bathed by the klokateers, we see his hair grow from his bob to as long as Skwisgaar's.

It's important to note that when we see the clip of Toki holding the guitar to his parents, the back of his hair is above his shoulders and showing a good portion of his neck. When we see the back of his head during the flashback of "The Duel", his neck is fully covered, and his hair sometimes rests on his shoulders.

Also note that the clip of him with his parents is not how we see him at the audition. He still has his child-like qualities that we see in him during "Dethzazz", "Dethdad", and "Dethkids".

The average boy hits his growth spurts around 12 to 15. Using this evidence, Toki was possibly kicked out of the house before he hit his growth spurt (puberty) and hit it sometime while being homeless. So he's at least over 15 before he meets Dethklok. However, Toki's facial structure changed from the kid to the teenager versions of himself, but they do not change from teenager to adult versions of him.

This is coming from my own experience so just trust me on this. Toki's hair rests just above the curvature of his lower back. I once had 2 feet of hair from shoulder to the bottom of my back, the top of my butt. Toki's hair is probably less than 2 feet. I'd say about a foot and a half. On average, hair grows 6 inches per year. Meaning, that Toki's hair would have taken about three years to get that long.

During that time, at no point does anything about his facial structure, height, or other physical trait, other than his hair, change. Seeing how Toki's height and his facial structure do not change, he is most likely done with puberty by the time he meets Dethklok, which ends at 16 to 18 in boys. Also important is that Toki refers to himself as a "kid" in "I Believe". I would not say a 18 year old is still referring to himself as a "kid".

Using this evidence, Toki is 16 to 18 when he meets Dethklok. At this point, it's up to preference what age he should be at, however, I like younger Toki. So I think Toki is 16 when he first meets the band in 1996, thus making him 26 in 2006.

1964~ - Pickles is born

1970~ - Murderface is born

1973~ - Nathan is born

1973~ - Skwisgaar is born

1980~ - Pickles starts SNB at age 16

1980~ - Toki is born

1990~ - Pickles leaves SNB at age 26

1990~ - Nathan drops out of high school at age 18

Between 1992~ to 1995~ - Toki is kicked out from possible ages of 12 to 15

1996 - Nathan is in Dethklok at age 23 (Started between 18 to 23)

1996 - Pickles is in Dethklok at age 32 (Could have joined between 26 to 32)

1996 - Skwisgaar is in Dethklok at age 23 (Could have joined at 18 to 23)

1996 - Murderface is in Dethklok at age 26 (Could have join at 20 to 26)

1996 - Toki is in Dethklok at age 16 (Could have been between 16 to 18)

2006 - Pickles is in Dethklok at age 42

2006 - Nathan is in Dethklok at age 33

2006 - Skwisgaar is in Dethklok at age 33

2006 - Murderface is in Dethklok at age 36

2006 - Toki is in Dethklok at age 26

Magnus

Magnus is a mystery. I believe solely that he is older than Pickles simply because he says this to Pickles during the flashback.

"Wait. What are you playing? Stop playing! Stop playing! That's not the drum pattern. I didn't tell you to make it your own, asshole. Now, why don't you all shut the fuck up and listen to me. And let's play some fucking music --" - Magnus

"Hey. Take it easy. This isn't just your band. It's our band." - Nathan

"Without me, you guys suck!" - Magnus

This tells me that Magnus has experience in the music world, more so than Pickles.

Why would Pickles even need someone else to write his drum line? He's been in the business for years and has been playing drums as far back as when he was a kid still living at home. Pickles is experienced and has already had fame at one point in his life; he knows what he's doing. So, why would he be taking drum lines from Magnus and why would he be listening to him?

Because Magnus is older than him and he has more musical experience than him, somehow, somewhere.

I'm not sure how though. Possibly as a failed guitarist in other bands, maybe as a ghost writer for other bands. The possibilities are literally endless for him.

Take note, Magnus seems to be playing a Les Paul Gibson guitar, which is an older model type of guitar but not too much older than Skwisgaar's Explorer or Toki's Flying-V. However, In the DVD Special "CFO taking calls" Charles says that he has a vintage "'59" guitar, presuming he is talking about Les Paul guitars because that's what the topic was on during the call. Magnus is playing an all black Les Paul Gibson guitar, and vintage models are highly sought after, especially from the '50s and '60s.

This could be a subtle way of pinpointing the generational differences between Magnus to Skwisgaar (and the rest of the band). In "Snakes N' Barrels", Pickles is playing a Les Paul guitar in both the flash back and the reunion. It's the same one that he asks for when he is 16 to the pawn shop owner.

It's similar to Magnus, except Pickles' has a light wood finish. Maybe this is another way of stating that Magnus is stuck in the past, while the rest of the band wants to move forward. Also, his guitar is round with no points. Toki, Skwisgaar, and Murderface all have pointed guitars. That could also point that he's not as compatible as he wants to be with the band.

I don't have an age range for him, but, I assume that he's in his 40's in 1996. Making him in his 50's in 2006. This would make sense as he has significant graying hair in the front, and your 50's is when people start to see significant amounts of graying.

Late 1950's - Magnus is born

1964~ - Pickles is born

1970~ - Murderface is born

1973~ - Nathan is born

1973~ - Skwisgaar is born

1980~ - Pickles starts SNB at age 16

1980~ - Toki is born

1990~ - Pickles leaves SNB at age 26

1990~ - Nathan drops out of high school at age 18

Between 1992~ to 1995~ - Toki is kicked out from possible ages of 12 to 15

1996 - Nathan is in Dethklok at age 23 (Started between 18 to 23)

1996 - Pickles is in Dethklok at age 32 (Could have joined between 26 to 32)

1996 - Skwisgaar is in Dethklok at age 23 (Could have joined at 18 to 23)

1996 - Murderface is in Dethklok at age 26 (Could have join at 20 to 26)

1996 - Toki is in Dethklok at age 16 (Could have been between 16 to 18)

1996 - Magnus was in Dethklok in his 40's (Kicked out)

2006 - Pickles is in Dethklok at age 42

2006 - Nathan is in Dethklok at age 33

2006 - Skwisgaar is in Dethklok at age 33

2006 - Murderface is in Dethklok at age 36

2006 - Toki is in Dethklok at age 26

2006 - Magnus is not in Dethklok in his 50's

Age Range

So, based on the evidence above, the ages go like this.

1996:

Magnus (40's)

Pickles (32)

Murderface (26)

Skwisgaar (23)

Nathan (23)

Toki (16)

2006:

Magnus (50's)

Pickles (42)

Murderface (36)

Skwisgaar (33)

Nathan (33)

Toki (26)

I will not be going any further than 2006 because it's not prevalent to the question asked, but a quick guess would be that 3 to 5 years have passed that could be canonically recorded in the show. Add on maybe another 5 to 10 years to keep up with reality's technological advancements being present in the show (Buttons on Dethphones turning to Screens). Do with that what you want.

How The Band Met: Contextual Evidence

This is where a lot of the subjectivism comes to play. I'm going to be using the bands ages, their possible backgrounds, and the canon (ish) bits of their past to form a timeline.

Nathan: The Beginning

Dethklok is Nathan's band, he's the one that made it and recruited people originally. He started this band as early as high school but had dreams of making this band as early as a child. So, the band starts with him! None of the band members can become band members until they met and are accepted by Nathan (plus any members present at the time.)

Pickles and Murderface: An Unlikely Duo

Now we get to Pickles. Pickles and Murderface are the two oldest members of the band. They are close enough as friends for Murderface to have been invited inside Pickles' home for dinner. (Coming from the DVD extra). The context of that statement is right after Pickles said how his mom would make bowls of mayo for dinner, and Murderface responded how he remembers that and had a bowl there once. None of the others state they have had dinner with Pickles' family before, especially Nathan, who Pickles is very close with, even at the beginning of their music career (Nathan states how when all 5 of them were in the same room, he knew they were going to be a success, and he looked to Pickles specifically, who also felt it.) So, I believe that Pickles and Murderface probably knew each other before they got into the band.

Pickles was in active search for heavier music, and Nathan says that Murderface is the "most brutal of all bass players". ("Birthdayface") Now, we have no information on Murderface's past or how he joined the band, but it would make sense if Pickles discovered Murderface while on his journey for heavier music. We know that Murderface was in some type of band before Dethklok, so it's possible that Pickles recruited Murderface and then traveled with him for a couple of years before finding Nathan.

Skwisgaar: My Shot

Skwisgaar is trickier. He had to have come to the United States at some point alone to join the band or he was with one of his original bands then ditched and joined Dethklok. We can have theories as to why he ditched so many bands (Not challenged enough, not heavy enough, fear of commitment both platonically and romantically, getting further and further away from his mom) but we know that he did it frequently. Now, we know that Skwisgaar and Nathan are the same age, between 18 to 23. We also know that Skwisgaar had a job at one point that required him to cash in checks at the bank. Somewhere, between having that job and meeting Nathan, Skwisgaar had been in (at least) 8 other bands. (Agnostic Priest, Gangagar, Eldeleel-Alele, Gognog Mug Alugdug, Fuckface Academy, Sausage Assassin, Financially Raped, Smugly Dismissed.) He was busy in so many others bands between that time, which really is not a lot of time.

Assuming that Skwisgaar graduated high school at 18, he would be an adult exiting the school system. Somewhere between being 18 and in bands to 23 in Dethklok, Skwisgaar must have come to the United States.

Why?

There's no evidence to support that his previous bands were strictly from Sweden, as English named bands in non-dominated English speaking countries are fairly common. However, Skwisgaar moving to the United Sates without any support or reason doesn't seem something that he would do, especially if he was doing well for himself in bands in Sweden. I also highly doubt that he heard of Nathan's small garage metal band all the way from Sweden, since Nathan was very poor while trying to get Dethklok off it's feet.

I believe that Skwisgaar was on tour with one of his bands that went to the United States and found Nathan. Or rather, Nathan discovered Skwisgaar. It's well known that Skwisgaar is a fantastic guitar player and is always looking to improve his skill. I have a theory that Nathan offered Skwisgaar the lead guitarist spot in Dethklok, rather than the rhythm guitarist. A possible reason for Skwisgaar leaving different bands is because he was not being shown enough respect for his craft and wanted a chance to prove his worth, which is why he fought with Nathan in Doomstar for staying a 4-person band. It also means that he would have wanted someone who could be his rhythm guitarist after Magnus that could keep up with him, which is why he went so hard on all of the interviewees.

Dethklok is his first and only band that allowed him to be the lead guitarist.

Toki: The New Beginning

Not much to say as we have a canon meeting. Toki comes and auditions, loses, but is still allowed to join because he makes Skwisgaar play better. He is the last member of the band to make Dethklok complete, and pushed the prophecy forward.

Magnus: The Judas Archtype

Something I want to point out is that, out of all the members of Dethklok, Nathan is the most affected by Magnus physically (Stabbed in the back) and emotionally (AOTD).

There are theories that Nathan was looking to grab Magnus out of The Depths of Humanity in Doomstar when they grabbed Toki.

There is also a type of hold that Magnus has over Nathan during AOTD and what would Nathan say to him. We know that Magnus' name pops up in the notebook about people Nathan wants to talk to. We also know that Nathan calls his death a "tragedy" (though, he said this while going through his own emotions, so it's wishy washy). In AOTD, the band does call Magnus "selfish" and "too busy being angry" but that's within the context of the band possibly forgiving him. [Granted, forgiving him is a hard decision for me because home boy really really fucked up with Toki and Abigail.] But, I think the context is more about the band never getting the chance to forgive rather than automatically forgiving.

Magnus committing suicide makes Nathan feel guilty, even if he doesn't know what he could have done better or is he believed that Magnus did deserve punishment but suicide was too far for him. Nathan blames himself for Magnus being Magnus and doing what he did, because ultimately, kicking him out of his band was his decision. A decision that caused Toki and Abigail to get kidnapped and tortured decades down the line.

What I'm trying to say is that Nathan and Magnus had some type of strong bond, and Nathan feels guilty, while the others do not.

I believe it's because the first member of the band was Magnus. Imagine a fresh faced Nathan Explosion trying to figure things out and in walks in an older man with inside experience to the music industry and fantastic musical skill. Remember, Magnus and the band got along. Magnus, at one point, loved and cared for the band. He looked at a photo of himself in the band right before killing himself, he had a strong relationship with them.

That's why he is so strung out during the flashback. He sees Dethklok as his band, while Nathan sees it as our band. Magnus and Nathan met before anyone else.

How Do All Of These Moving Parts Connect?

I believe that it is up to interpretation truly, however, based on how each character is close to one another, I have a rough outline of them meeting and forming Dethklok. Some of these actions are happening at the same time independently.

Pickles discovers Murderface on his journey of finding heavier music

Murderface leaves his current band to follow Pickles

Nathan meets and recruits Magnus into his band.

Pickles and Murderface make their way down the coast until they find Nathan.

Nathan recruits Pickles and Murderface.

Nathan discovers Skwisgaar at a concert and decides to try and recruit him after the show by offering him the lead guitarist spot (Remember, Magnus is a lot calmer before the initial flashback, so I don't think guitar positions would bother him as much as it bothers Toki.)

Skwisgaar agrees and the band is completed

Dethklok gains Charles

Charles has Dethklok signed and labeled

Dethklok kicks out Magnus

Toki auditions and gets the spot

Dethklok is now, officially, complete

I would like to add that Skwisgaar and Magnus' spots could be switched (Nathan meets Skwisgaar first, become lead guitarist, then they meet Magnus, becomes rhythm guitarist, then Pickles and Murderface.) However, based on my findings and what I believe would be an appropriate flow, I think Magnus and Nathan met first.

Skwisgaar being last makes sense when you consider that Skwisgaar had yet to assimilate into the band like the others did during the flashbacks. He's still clutching onto his own style, his own aesthetic, his own "lone wolf" persona. That only changes until after Toki.

While Pickles and Murderface being the second and third members to join make sense in respect that Pickles and Nathan are very close and worked closely together from the very beginning to write songs. They wouldn't be going on Friender-Benders if they were not super close with each other friendship-wise and work-wise. That type of bond takes serious loyalty and chemistry.

Murderface and Nathan's relationship also feels close. Murderface does a lot of dumb shit, including suing the band at one point, and it takes a lot of that before Nathan wants to kick him out of the band. I believe that Nathan has a very strong relationship with Murderface in the sense that they have been friends and bandmembers for a long time. He has a connection with Murderface and doesn't want to let that go, especially like how he let Magnus go. Nathan also knows how to handle him very well, which indicates that they have a familiar bond.

Toki, obviously, comes in last, with a canon introduction.

Conclusion

Order:

Nathan meets Magnus

Pickles meets Murderface

Nathan and Magnus meet Pickles and Murderface

Nathan, Magnus, Pickles, and Murderface meet Skwisgaar

Magnus is kicked out

Nathan, Pickles, Murderface, and Skwisgaar meet Toki

How:

Nathan meets Magnus, someone who is from the music world, and Magnus becomes the first member of Dethklok as a guitarist. At the same time, Pickles is on his "heavier music" journey and discovers Murderface, where he convinces Murderface to join him. They bond for an unknown amount of time while Nathan and Magnus work on Dethklok and finding the right band members. (Because there is no other ex-Dethklok band members, I don't think they recruited anyone until Pickles and Murderface.) Within that time, Pickles and Murderface head to Florida and are discovered by Nathan and Magnus. This could be at a party or maybe Magnus had prior knowledge of Pickles and his journey and met up with him. Nathan ends up recruiting Pickles and Murderface. Skwisgaar comes to the United States on a tour, and at a concert, Nathan spots him. He convinces Skwisgaar to leave his band and join them with the promise of becoming the lead guitarist, something none of the other bands let him be. From there, they get Charles, get signed, and work on producing their first labeled album. Magnus goes crazy, stabs Nathan, and is kicked out. Toki comes to audition for his spot by dueling Skwisgaar, loses, but is accepted in anyway. This completes Dethklok.

______________________________________________________________

That's really it. Obviously, this is all subjective and based on miniscule details and feelings. The band could have met in a million different variations at different ages, but this is what I believe within my research. Though, it could change. It's all fiction in the end.

Toki Hair Theory Expansion.

[prettyoddfever]

re: the Fever-era stage gay routines

I'm integrating a previous post into this one so I can cover all of the pre-split years and everything in one place. Again, I'm iffy on the term "stage gay" but idk how else to describe it so here we go.

So Brendon said this quote in 2018: "For our first headline tour I would go up to Ryan our guitar player, and like kiss him on the neck or kiss him on the mouth and he would be so mad. I was like, I just want to kiss you bro."

Ignoring all history & precedent of the way that Brendon tends to exaggerate for effect and often goes for the general idea & how he feels at the moment when looking back rather than actual specific facts... he's still talking about the band's first headlining tour in April 2006. And yeah, that's the only season where I think this quote MIGHT be plausible. If the situation actually played out exactly as Brendon says, then of course that's not ok. But you still can't project that scenario onto literally every part of the Fever era or form your entire perception of a whole era (or an entire work relationship) off of one single interview quote from years later. That's going to leave you with an incredibly distorted understanding of the band's dynamics with each other & fans, Ryan's input and stage presence, and what's actually going on in the pictures you're looking at. Like people are clearly missing so much context if they're able to look at a picture of the IWSNT mic-sharing from summer 2006 and think that it was one-sided sexual harassment (or some kind of actual Ryden thing).

THE EARLY MONTHS

So the guys weren’t super close onstage in late 2005… they were mostly trying to figure out how to even be onstage lol. They watched the bands they were touring with and learned as they went. You could almost see little pieces of each band’s influence show up for a while. Brendon totally modeled himself after Jason Vena in early fall 2005, and then he had clearly been watching William Beckett closely in early 2006 (that influence carried on throughout the year). It was also interesting to watch Brendon navigate what he thought fans wanted or expected when he was an 18-year-old boy thrown into an international spotlight with girls (and boys) screaming “f— me!” at him (one example). It really looked like he learned to play into a role (this is included). And I mean that in terms of being a popular frontman. That’s not even taking into consideration the actual way that Brendon needed to adopt a persona onstage throughout the whole Fever era. Look at the type of songs he had to sing. Both Brendon & Ryan talked a lot in 2005-2006 about how Brendon needed to get into a character onstage to deliver the risque lyrics.

The types of halfhearted moves that Brendon started to make on Ryan by the end of the Truckstops & Statelines tour looked like he was just following the example of bands he’d been watching on tour. Brendon started making bigger moves on Ryan in April once P!ATD had to step up their game for their first headlining tour (which happened 8 months after they played their first show ever). That UK tour had some shows that were bigger than the first half of the summer tour in North America. There were times in 2006 when I felt like P!ATD was more of a UK band than American partially because of how intense the frenzy was over there.

Brendon was still testing different stage personas and figuring things out during this season, and the band still felt like 4 separate guys trying to find their footing. They were talented & good, but there was absolutely a huge shift in the band itself once Jon arrived in May. They finally felt like a strong united group. They went back to their practice space for a while in May to figure out the details of what they wanted their band to be like onstage, rehearse with their two new touring musicians + Lucent Dossier, and re-learn updated versions of their songs. The last half of the Fever era was polished and very intentional... they felt like a different band by June in many ways.

THE SUMMER TOUR

I thought this seemed like the picture that really got the Ryden craze going in summer 2006 (before fans had totally decided on the “Ryden” name – some were saying “Bryan”). It was taken a few days into the summer tour:

There were a ton of new fans arriving during the summer tour, so that picture formed some first impressions. By this summer many fans would basically only ask people to describe the moments when Ryan & Brendon came near each other at a show and every look they shared. People who went to shows would mention how at different points they saw one of the four guys suppress a laugh when the crowd would positively scream if Brendon & Ryan came within two feet of each other.

The Panic guys were well aware of what their fans wanted and what was being said online (for better or worse). Yes, they got annoyed during the last half of the year when fans took things too far or were focused more on Ryden stuff than the music, but it seemed like they also wanted to have fun with a fanbase that they were being increasingly distanced from as they became more & more famous. There were quite a few stories of Brendon and Ryan playing up the Ryden angle at meet & greets throughout the last half of 2006 to make fans laugh or freak out (and Ryan initiated some of that, so it wasn’t purely Brendon). There's more in this post.

The point is that the shows in this tour were very intentional and felt more like watching a theater show than the type of band who interacted with their audience (which was a huge fan complaint this season tbh). Ryan was more confident & comfortable onstage with his new makeup, was actively engaging in mic sharing and playing into what the crowds obviously wanted to see, and seemed like he was largely in control of how the shows would go even if he still sometimes shied away from attention in general onstage.

Ryan & Brendon did continue some of their antics at random international shows in August & October, but it kind of seemed to depend on the audience. Those shows were also a different vibe from the national tours.

NOTHING RHYMES WITH CIRCUS

This season was on a whole other level, so here's a separate post that goes into important detail!!

^^^ seriously, please read.

The creepy leering character that Brendon was playing during the NRWC tour is obviously not his actual personality, nor his typical onstage character for the whole Fever era (although I did see hints of it return during the 2008 Halloween show when Brendon was in his vampire costume lol).

AFTER THE FEVER ERA

The band played a handful of regular shows in 2007 like any other band. They wore jeans and dropped the stage gay & makeup because those elements were part of the Fever-era shows and that era was done now.

Ryan did try to instigate parts of their former routine at the first show in 2007 before the band had found their new direction, though.

Brendon kissed Ryan on the cheek at Bamboozle 2007 when wishing him a happy birthday.

The Pretty. Odd. era was completely different on so many levels. Ryan & Jon largely ran those shows and the new music didn’t require a dramatic frontman in an entertainer/narrator role anymore. Ryan was WAY more confident onstage and would often stroll over to mess with Brendon or share his mic. Ryan was the one who often instigated any interaction. Jon even slapped Brendon’s butt at some shows. A lot of fans would claim that Ryan kissed Brendon’s cheek, but in hindsight I think it’s more likely that he was whispering to Brendon and knew that fans would get overly excited. Also, the moment where Brendon kissed Ryan’s cheek before Mad as Rabbits at Glastonbury was definitely not the norm.

ABOUT THE ROUTINE "RYDEN" MOMENTS IN 2008 (not on the same level as 2006, but still pandering to what fans wanted).

COMMON FEVER ERA MOMENTS

a few examples...

MISC. THOUGHTS

The point of this post is to show that the endless pictures that some people might share of "Ryden" moments or "Brendon sexually harassing Ryan" are often like the same points of the same songs on multiple nights, or just taken out of context of the actual Fever era. To be clear, I’m not attempting to excuse/explain every single thing Brendon ever did in this post, or attempting to speak for Ryan... idk what he was comfortable with or everything that went down between them.

However, I do think that people who assume Brendon forced Ryan into anything (in any aspect of the band) don’t understand their work relationship or the pre-split band’s dynamics & who had the power. That band was waaaay different than the one that Brendon had in later years. Back then he wasn’t really in a position to pressure Ryan into anything creatively-speaking (more info here). Ryan was shy in interviews, but he was in no way a pushover within the band… and to assume something like that kind of discredits his massive contributions. With the amount of control that Ryan had, I just really don’t think he would have let something so prominent get worked into the shows if he wasn’t ok with it in the first place (let alone instigate it himself sometimes).

Ryan talked a lot in the pre-split years about how he really wanted to challenge fans, push boundaries, do something different, shake things up, and keep experimenting instead of settling into a rut of what was comfortable/familiar. In a Danish interview in October 2006 he said "we do not want to be a safe band, neither with our songs nor our shows."

I thought the stage gay element seemed to loosely fit into those goals & ideas. But at the same time, I don't think it was ever that defined. It felt like it was just a random fun thing & wasn't that deep. Spin asked Ryan if he and Brendon were toying with the idea of bisexuality, which was a bit annoying because their antics obviously weren't that legit or a Serious Statement. I liked Ryan's answer:

[simscici]

Claire and Brendon, book two - Pt 3

— BRENDON!! — STAY BACK, CLAIRE, DON’T GO NEAR THEM. — BUT THEY’RE GOING TO HURT YOU! — I’m tired of you, Brendon. You were always different from us, but Dad insists on protecting you. — Michael, Brendon’s second older brother, finally manages to disarm him. — Since you’re so keen on keeping this freak company, I’ll make sure you both head to hell together! — BRENDON! — Behind him, Claire had already shifted back to her human form and was running toward her lover. — How… will you explain this…? — Don’t worry, Dad will understand the situation. ... — So, you’re the freak who killed my dear brother? — Trent, Brendon and Michael’s eldest brother, holds Claire back before she can reach the other two. — What? Are you insane? I didn’t do it! You’re the real freaks here! — You sirens are treacherous beings who don’t care in the least about taking an innocent life… My poor brother was wrong to trust you. Claire understood that no matter what she said, these guys had already decided she was responsible for Brendon’s death, and that Brendon’s father would only hear their version… It was the end for Claire… Sadly, some species just don’t mix.

[myxomato515]

TOP 5 REASONS WHY PEOPLE SHOULD GO WATCH HOME MOVIES!!

don't even get me STARTED. for every reason. but...

It's SO funny. Oh my god, if you love improv, it's HYSTERICAL. Maybe I'm just a weird little slug creature but I find the natural, conversational dialogue to elevate the jokes by so much. And for the most part, it doesn't rely on shock humor like Family Guy or (as much as I like it)South Park, but the monotony in the everyday exchanges we have with each other, and nuances like quirks in speech and more understated jokes. Everyone is funny.

It speaks to the hearts of creative people. The whole series centers around a little 8-year-old kid and the boundless ambition handed to him along with his camera and tape. It has the throughline of what it means to be a creative, how we often express ourselves through our art, and the waxing and waning of our inspiration. Without spoiling the finale, it's a really touching show for someone who used to be JUST like him at 8.

The characters. Um hello?? Coach McGuirk is the obvious highlight to everyone. He just holds the most comedic punch out of everyone, truly a guy you can just Put In A Situation and he'll react in a silly way. Brendon we explained in #2, but he's such a prideful little snark, it's great. He has the wit of a high schooler but the capability of a boy his age. Melissa has some super interesting storylines, Jason is more complex than he seems at first, and MR. LYNCH. OHHH MY FAVE. He's so mundane and blase he circles back to being an eccentric little freak. Also Shannon, Walter and Perry, and Fenton.

It was so innovative. The Squigglevision in s1 polarized people when it first came out, but I love it. Same with the Retroscripting. God it's just all so natural.

Heh… Mold Brendon

[i-amclandestine86]

Ryden Sun & Moon Theory, A Summary

A short (actually long) and incoherent summary of the sun and moon theory from the beginning to end.

Disclaimers

I have a few things to say before I get into the good stuff, I apologize. I would like to clear up that this is all speculation as well as for fun. I don't usually encourage the shipping of real people but in the case that there is a large amount of evidence in regards to it I often like to entertain the idea. I would also like to say that throughout their whole careers Brendon nor Ryan has not denied or confirmed the rumors.

Confirmation of… Something

However, Brendon and Ryan have acknowledged their “moments” on stage. In an interview Ryan was asked: “Are you toying with the idea of bisexuality?” To which he answered: “There was never a point where we were going for that or trying to make a statement,” and, “We're just having fun,”

In the same interview Brendon spoke about how he is “playful” with Ryan on stage. He said things like: “For our first headline tour I would go up to Ryan and like kiss him on the neck or kiss him on the mouth,” and “I would hang out with friends and after five or six beers we're just kind of smooching on each other,”

So here, we clearly know they've at least kissed. If it's on stage for fun and Brendon admits to “smooching on” his friends, I'd say it's pretty fair to say it's happened behind closed doors as well.

Although, it is also clear that some moments in shows are scripted. This is regarded as stage gay and is a marketing tactic. It's essentially queer bait.

Ryro and B-Den Relationship Timeline

Generally, Ryan is regarded as the sun and Brendon as the moon. However, this also changes based on their relationship status. In 2004 Ryan was with a girl who is commonly referred to as S for privacy reasons. Throughout their relationship and break-up he was highly emotional and it led to beloved songs such as Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off. In this time he had taken on the role of the moon and Brendon was his sun, coming to him in a time of need and helping him.

From late 2005 to 2006 Ryan went on to get together with scene queen Jac Vanek. This resulted in Brendon meeting and dating another scene queen Audrey Kitching. Both their break-ups were rough, involving cheating and a faked miscarriage (allegedly).

In late 2006, enters another girl, Keltie Colleen. She was a dancer for them for a VMAs performance and got with Ryan afterwards. There's a lot to get Into here but during his relationship with Keltie is when he transitions from moon to sun alignment.

It was a rough relationship and before leaving to the cabin where Pretty. Odd. was written they went through a very difficult situation. Throughout his time at the cabin Keltie was not contacted and she began to wonder if he was cheating.

From his relationship with Audrey up until 2009 Brendon was always single. He transitioned to his moon alignment during this time. Generally the rule is if Brendon is single he's moon and if Ryan is single he's sun.

Pretty. Odd.

Pretty. Odd. is really when the sun and moon symbolism starts. The first song where this shows is I Have Friends In Holy Spaces which was written by Brendon. He says: “I'm not complaining that it's raining, I'm just saying that I'd like it a lot more than you think, if the sun would come out and sing with me,” I particularly like this because he's saying he wishes Ryan would sing with him more often and enjoys it very much.

Northern Downpour is in my opinion one of the most Ryden heavy songs and gives us so much to work with. In an interview with Rolling Stone Ryan had said, “It was about touring and girlfriends and love and everything that’s been important to us in the past few years. There’s a line in the song that goes, ‘I know the world’s a broken bone, but melt your headaches, call it home.’ I told Brendon to pay special attention to that line,”

Ryan had also said that Jon wrote “the sugar cane part,” but the rest of the song was written by him. Although, it's a very common theory that it was written as a correspondence between Ryan and Brendon. This is especially thought about because of Ryan specifically telling Brendon to pay attention to, “I know the world’s a broken bone, but melt your headaches, call it home,”

I personally think that the line “I missed your skin when you were east, You clicked your heels and wished for me,” is Brendon talking to Ryan. I think it's referring to Ryan's time with Keltie in New York while Brendon was in Las Vegas or even just while they were all in New York. Also, of course all the “Hey, Moon,” lines could be Brendon talking to Ryan but I'm unsure if these are included in the parts Jon had written or not.

There's a lot more to Northern Downpour but that should all be saved for a post of its own. So, let's talk about the next Ryden heavy song, When the Day Met the Night. This song is completely about the sun and moon and leans into the theory heavily. In the song, the sun has he/him pronouns and the moon has she/her but in live performances Brendon has used he/him for both. However, neither me nor my source has found the clip so I'm unsure if it's true.

A very intriguing part, however, is the line: “as long as you can make a promise not to break my little heart and leave me all alone in the summer,” This line is not only sung in first person but it also reveals something extremely interesting. Ryan left the band on July 6th of 2009, July would fall in the middle of summer. I don't think they would have known he would leave, so it's highly possible it's a coincidence but the amount of coincidences that happen to this band is insane.

Vices and Virtues & The Departure of Ryan

Ryan left the band after a very well known time in Capetown. There he had met a woman who he swore to spend his life with. Everyone told him not to chase her and he responded by throwing his passport into the crowd saying, “My heart belongs in Capetown,” Unbeknownst to him, she had a husband in jail. With Ryan, Jon Walker also departed from the band to join Ryan in The Young Veins.

That's another story though, I want to focus on Brendon Urie – my beloved B-Den. Him and Spencer Smith went on to write the album Vices and Virtues. In this album we have the wonderful song The Ballad Of Mona Lisa. We theorize that Ryan is Mona Lisa.

In The Ballad Of Mona Lisa Brendon says, “Say what you mean, tell me I'm right, and let the sun rain down on me,” which likely references their fight in Capetown. He's telling Ryan to say what he means and tell Brendon he's right, perhaps about the woman they urged Ryan not to be with. The sun “raining down on” him could mean that Ryan's words were raining down on him. This also has so much substance it could be a post of its own so I'll leave this here.

After Ryan's departure Brendon was always extremely emotional singing older Panic! songs. He could never get through the one line in Northern Downpour that he was always told to pay attention to. He also could never sing the song without crying. At this time he had also started dating Sarah but I don't think he transitioned back to moon alignment until their engagement after Vices and Virtues.

Ryan had sung the song as well after his departure, in 2019 with his girlfriend Elizabeth Berg. Ryan was also clearly emotional while performing the song. However even though he was in a relationship he seemed to be in sun alignment, still in contrast with Brendon. In true sun fashion, he seemed to perform the song very happily despite being emotional.

The Curse Of Celestial Lovers

It's not very well known but Celestial/Star-Crossed Lovers are destined to never be together in the end. This is the case no matter the celestial alignment. Even if it's a moon or sun and star, such as popular ships Wolfstar and Jegulus. However, it is often worse when it's the moon and sun trying to come together.

As of now, Ryan is living alone in LA and Brendon has married Sarah and is living in Seattle. It is unknown if they are in touch or if they have met recently. Ryan has re-entered social media and done shows recently and Brendon is coming back for the WWWY tour to perform in Las Vegas.

I wonder if Ryan will be there…

Sources:

I urge you to please read my sources as well as they make even more points and provide more evidence!

https://www.chickensmoothie.com/Forum/viewtopic.php?f=25&t=3499771#p110413618

https://www.tumblr.com/vengeancevixen/735869372234612737/panic-fact-okay-time-to-clear-up-some?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/pathetic-at-the-disco/170881574411/the-tragic-love-life-of-ryan-ross-part-1?source=share

https://panicatthedisco.fandom.com/wiki/Northern_Downpour

https://aminoapps.com/c/panic-at-the-disco/page/blog/sun-and-moon-theory/lXkm_Y1etQugVpz7WEgXLEdMrkg7rB5erPY

[viccharine]

do you guys ever listen to a band so much that you end up making fake merch for it?

(reblogs greatly appreciated!!!!)

close ups and commentary under the cut!

about the poster itself: do you guys know how hard it is to make art for a band that hasn’t been active in 13 years? the answer is HARD (yes, i probably could done research and looked for old interviews for inspiration but who has time for that)

—> the icons related to “take a vacation!” are inspired by lyrics from the song “take a vacation!” (haha, did you see what I did there?) specifically, the lines “we’ll leave the waves at the ocean” and “we’ll leave the sand in a suitcase”

—> the Jon Walker and Ryan Ross icons are taken directly from the album cover (it took ten years off my life trying to figure out how to get them on here w/ the color palette—graphic design may be my passion but I never said i was GOOD at it)

—> the heart imagery comes from the fact that the band’s called “the young VEINS”—although it annoys me IMMENSELY that i technically drew more arteries than veins in the icons (my anatomy teacher would be so disappointed, but alas, anatomical accuracy had to be sacrificed to make it. yknow. look nice)

—> i did hand-lettering for all the text except for everything that’s in Helvetica (i did THAT in canva). the art program i use has a basically unusable text tool so I was forced to draw all of it, so I choose to believe that the reason why it doesn’t look. the best. is because of the caffeine shakes

some extra commentary: am I the only one who’s genuinely REALLY bad at listening to music? i don’t really get into bands as much as i just find songs that sound nice—to illustrate the extent of this issue: i did NOT know that Brendon Urie was a part of Panic! At the Disco. I’m not even kidding, I thought the artist who made Death of a Bachelor and the artist who made A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out were completely different and just. didn’t bother to check if I was right.

also, I’m not the type of person to be interested in band lore???? I rarely know the names of band members if even I’ve listened to the band for years (I really couldn’t care less in most situations)

case in point, i did not know who the FUCK Ryan Ross was!!! i knew he was in p!atd but that’s literally about it—before a couple of days ago if you asked to me pick out either Ryan Ross or Jon Walker from a line up I would not be able to get even CLOSE

anyway, my friend/manager is really into band lore, so I basically got a crash-course in all things “early to late 2000s emo band” and subsequently found out about the Young Veins (i was also extremely disappointed when I found out they only had one album and hadn’t been active in over a decade) THEN I realized that decade old, inactive bands don’t usually have merch, so I made my own! “merch” used lightly—i don’t think this is actually fit to sell lol

anyway that’s all k thanks byeee :D!! (and go stream the young veins!!)

[backseatloversz]

like who gives af if people are a bit misinformed about brendon urie and ryan ross because theyre definitely both rich (or at least living comfortably) and incredibly offline these days so i imagine They certainly dont. some teenager detesting brendon urie even though hes not actually THAT bad he was only a LITTLE racist and had a clumsy handle on his security guard and best friend sexually assaulting people....like. hello

feel like sometimes i come on here to see people make sweeping generalizations about how EVERYONE in bandom is saying🙄🙄🙄..... and its definitely just something people are saying over on tiktok or twitter or smth and im like What The Fuck Are You Even Talking About. or maybe im just unplugged to whats even happening on here maybe thats my fault

[magia-nera]

7 minutes in heaven

── ryan ross x fem!reader

summary: after dragging you to a party you didn't really wanted to go to, ryan manages to somehow make the situation worse, bringing stupid party games into the mix.

warnings: alcohol use, vulgar words (very few tbh) and slightly suggestive themes. the characters are 18+

word count: 3.4k

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Ryan knew full well you were an introvert and not too interested in partying, yet he insisted on dragging you to Brendon’s house, which was currently way too crowded in your opinion.

You thought about how you’d rather be at home bingeing crappy movies or just relaxing by yourself, sinking in the myriad of pillows that adorned your bed, when your eyes started wandering around the room. Maybe you were looking for an excuse to leave, or just maybe you were looking for the reason you were at this God forsaken party to begin with.

It’s not like you were mad Ryan dragged you here, what made you kind of annoyed was the fact that he was seemingly gone, while you’d hoped he would stay by your side. Instead you found yourself alone, looking for some peace and quiet in the kitchen, far away from the crowd. Yes, you were on your own, but this was somewhat more bearable than awkwardly standing against a wall amidst waves of dancing bodies, trying to push down the knot in your throat that formed as soon as you stepped in. You hadn’t even noticed Ryan disappearing, you just suddenly found yourself feeling colder, your limbs going frigid, looking around for your friend: it almost felt like your body felt the lack of his warm presence and signalled it to you through the shivers dancing up and down your spine.

Once you realised you were unable to locate him, you tried to navigate the crammed hallways towards a glimmer of quietness, shushing the gloominess muddling your thoughts.

You lowered your head, staring at the red cup in your hand, half full with a mixture of vodka and some kind of energy drink. Why were you thinking such stupid things all of a sudden? You’d known Ryan for years now, you had many classes together in high school and now that finals were done, ending your senior year, you were a bit worried you guys would just… drift apart. Maybe that’s why you hoped he would stay with you at this party, maybe that’s why you accepted to come to begin with. Or maybe it was just the alcohol talking. Yeah, that was definitely the reason.

You let out a soft – and perhaps slightly self deprecating – chuckle: it wasn’t the first time those thoughts came to your mind, but every time you deemed them too silly to pay them any mind. You couldn’t bring yourself to accept the fact that you would miss Ryan if you parted ways. You couldn't even begin to process the butterflies you felt in your stomach whenever his pretty face popped up in your head. The oh so perfect, poetic and dazzling Ryan Ross was definitely too out of your league. What use was it to try to make sense of it all, when you were so sure of the fact that these feelings were not reciprocated?

“What’s got you laughing?” a shadow loomed over you. You didn’t even hear the footsteps coming towards you, partly because they were hidden by the loud music that was making the walls vibrate, and also because you were so deep in thought that you drowned out every other stimulus.

You looked up, “Oh wow, I thought you had abandoned me and escaped or something,” you flashed Ryan a small smile. His cheeks were slightly red and flushed, probably because of the alcohol, seeing as he also held a red plastic cup just like yours, except his was empty.

“If you’re looking for something to drink, it should be in that cabinet,” you pointed to his left.

“Well, no, I guess I’ve had enough. Also, I wouldn’t abandon you: Brendon was just talking to some girls about our songs, you know… and he wouldn’t let me leave.”

“What a show off,” you giggled, jokingly. “What are you here for then?”

“Obviously I came looking for you.”

You felt blood rushing to your face.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm. We were thinking of playing some games or something,” Ryan immediately noticed your face going blank, “Listen, I know you’re not the biggest fan of parties and stuff, but I’d like if you tagged along, to be honest I’d like it better with you there…” he scratched the nape of his neck, was he… embarrassed?

That was so unlike the Ryan you knew, always somewhat cocky and annoying, hiding his kind and sweet side behind the slightly arrogant facade. It was kind of endearing to see him flustered, and you silently thanked the alcohol for making him this cute.

“Yeah, well, I guess I can tag along… but no truth or dare, you know I have no creativity whatsoever and I wouldn’t be able to come up with questions and that would be the actual worst,” you chuckled, hoping he wouldn’t notice how nervous and anxious you were.

“Okay okay, I won’t allow them to let you make a fool of yourself like that,” he mocked you.

This wasn’t your first party, but it definitely would be the first time you played party games, as you always avoided them like the plague.

Other than the nervousness, a slight pang of jealousy caught you by surprise. What were you even jealous of? Ryan? It’s not like he liked you back. And it’s not like you liked him to begin with. The butterflies that flapped violently against the walls of your stomach were just a natural reaction, who wouldn’t feel even the littlest bit of excitement when the most gorgeous man on Earth smiled at you so coyly?

Then why did you catch yourself staring at his nape while he was leading you out of the kitchen, the curve of his shoulders clumsily hidden by his shirt, and your eyes wandered down his back, while feeling a pit of sadness piercing through your stomach?

You caught yourself praying that he wouldn’t have to kiss any other girl, and maybe, just maybe, the bottle would land on you… but it’s not like you’d ever have the guts to confess your conflicted feelings, especially not when the thought of your friendship dying down from the distance college would put between you was all that occupied your mind for days now.

He turned to face you, “Are you coming or what?” he smiled.

You tried to regain some composure and nodded.

The whole house was packed with teens dancing to the loud music playing through the speakers. Ryan waited till you caught up with him and then let you walk ahead of him.

“I don’t want to bear the guilt of losing you in the crowd,” he snickered.

You walked past him and felt his hand on the small of your back. It was warm and comforting, you relished in the feeling, trying to quiet down your heartbeat. You couldn’t even tell if it was the nervousness of the imminent game or the warmth radiating from his hand making your heart skip one too many beats.

He led you all the way to Brendon’s bedroom, where a few other people were waiting.

“Here they are! Come sit here guys,” Brendon exclaimed cheerfully. “Allow me to explain what we’re gonna play.”

Brendon’s theatrical attitude made you chuckle, seemingly calming your furious heartbeat with the distraction he provided.

“So you all know 7 minutes in heaven right?” He glanced at you and you nodded in response. While you weren’t as close with Brendon as you were with Ryan, you guys did hang out more than a couple times and he knew you were kind of a shut-in hermit. Being a homebody didn’t mean you lived under a rock.

He continued, “Well that’s what we’re playing, but with a twist,” Brendon’s smile grew, you could catch a glimpse of benevolent malice hiding behind his pearly whites.

Some girls squealed excitedly, everyone wanted to know more.

“Okay, quiet down everybody,” Brendon shushed, gesturing with his hands.

“Hurry up Brendon,” Spencer laughed.

“So, to be honest I always thought 7 minutes in heaven was pretty boring. I mean you get to spend seven minutes stuck in a closet, isn’t it quite obvious you’re gonna fuck?” he started explaining. “So I’ve devised this variant. Basically we’re gonna split the guys from the girls and each group gets a room.”

People started giggling gleefully, thinking this was gonna get interesting.

“Each group gets to pick one person, like I don’t know, by spinning the bottle or something, and that’s the lucky one that gets to go in the closet. Blindfolded obviously. Cause the objective is guessing who the other person is, but no talking allowed. And no cum stains on my clothes cause we’re gonna use my closet, and I swear I’m gonna commit murder if any of y’all get them stained,” he shot daggers at the boys, who all laughed.

Ryan glanced at you as if to ask if you were okay, you gave a slight nod and a small smile. You didn’t want to ruin everyone’s night and be a bummer. Also it would be unlikely you’d get picked anyway, seeing as there were at least six or seven other girls.

“Oh also,” Brendon chimed again. “We’re going for multiple rounds!” Everyone cheered.

“Come on now, let’s get to our rooms,” Brendon ushered the girls out, pointing to the door opposite to his bedroom.

You sat down with the others, taking a second to look at them. You kind of knew some of them, from school, but not really enough to call them friends. Barely acquaintances even.

“Okay I guess spin the bottle would be the easiest way, right?”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

You gulped nervously, you genuinely didn’t know if you wanted to be picked to get this over with or not.

One of the girls placed an empty soda bottle down in the middle of the circle you all made on the floor, and started spinning it.

When it landed on a pretty blonde, you couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. The pang of jealousy stabbed through your chest again though, and you found yourself hoping that Ryan wasn’t the one picked.

As you all got up and covered the girl’s eyes with the tie Brendon gave you as a makeshift blindfold, you started making your way out of the bedroom, while the chosen girl was being guided by her friend.

“Keep quiet or you’ll ruin the surprise!” you overheard one of the girls say, while giggling.

You opened the door to find the boys all ready with their chosen candidate.

You held back your sigh of relief when you noticed it was Spencer the one who was blindfolded.

Everyone stayed quiet as Brendon opened the closet and let Spencer and the girl inside. He then grabbed a timer, “Time starts… now!”

He hurried everyone to leave the bedroom.

Once you’re all out he laughed, “I don’t wanna hear them making out to be honest.” He flopped on the bed in the spare bedroom where you previously were with the girls. “Hasn’t Spencer been eyeing that girl up and down like, all night long?”

“Yeah,” Ryan replies, his tone somewhat sheepish.

You felt warmth rush to your cheeks and ears, your breath hitched after noticing how close his voice sounded. Your head felt dizzy and you couldn’t bring yourself to turn and look at him and face his gaze, that you felt burning through your skin.

You sank lower into the mattress, seeking comfort in the lavender coloured sheets.

Perhaps Ryan caught your nervousness, or maybe he was also feeling awkward — even though you struggled to picture that — but he didn’t say a word for a couple of minutes.

When you finally lifted your head to look at him, he gave you a small smile, his eyes hiding his flustered demeanour pretty well.

“How do you think they’re doing in there?” he breathed out.

Why was your heart even thumping now? You felt like your ribs were about to crack.

“Oh, uh… I guess they’re having fun,” you spoke softly.

As the minutes went by you started making small talk and feeling a bit more comfortable. After all it was the alcohol’s fault you were feeling so lightheaded and your heart felt like it was running a marathon. Yes, it was surely that. Just hold on a bit more and you can leave, you kept telling yourself.

The ringing of the timer shook you out of your dizzy bliss, your heart giving you the fatal blow when it seemed about to jump out of your chest as Ryan’s shoulder brushed against yours when he rose from the bed.

“Time’s up, let’s go free the lovebirds,” Brendon laughed in a slightly sarcastic tone.

When he opened the closet door, the two of them were all over each other, hair ruffled and breathing laboured.

“Come on, get out. You can continue somewhere else,” Brendon winked, making everyone laugh. “Time for the second round.”

This time you were feeling a little more relaxed, the alcohol was starting to wear off and you were getting more comfortable. The game didn’t seem as scary anymore.

Until the bottle landed on you.

You knew this would happen eventually, yet you couldn’t help your head jerking up, trying to hide the panicked look you were sure was plastered on your face.

Thank God, or maybe unfortunately, the girls didn’t seem to notice and they hurried you on your feet, eager to blindfold you and start the round.

Shivers travelled up and down your spine as one of the girls held your hand to guide you to the room.

It was so eerily quiet, you couldn’t tell at all who was the guy who got picked.

You felt the girl’s hand on your shoulders as she pushed you into the cramped closet. You tucked your feet under your bottom, trying to find a comfortable enough position.

The air grew warmer as the other person joined in.

“Okay guys, time’s starting.” You hear a muffled voice, but you couldn’t distinguish who it was because of the layers of fabric and wood blocking out the sounds, “let’s go grab some more booze while we wait”.

Your view was completely black, your mouth agape, looking for some more air to fill up your lungs. You were almost shaking, trying to dry off your sweaty palms on your jeans.

You felt rustling coming from in front of you, he was probably trying to adjust himself in the tiniest amount of space so as to not disturb you. He couldn’t help but brush his legs against yours though, which let a small gasp escape from your lips.

“Uhm…” you started, before remembering the no-talking rule. You sighed in frustration. How could you even begin to guess who was the boy stuck in there with you if you couldn’t even talk to him?

Suddenly you felt puffs of warm hair hitting your face, signalling that he was getting closer. You instinctively raised your hands in front of you, as if you were trying to protect yourself or put some distance between the two of you, even though it would have been in vain, seeing as your back was against the wall.

What you didn’t expect was your hands hitting the soft cotton covering his chest. You froze, unable to react and remove them, mentally cursing the moment you decided to participate in this stupid game.

The fact that the boy took this as a sign that he could reciprocate your touch made everything even worse, your head started spinning faster than a carousel as his hands laid gently on your knees.

You could feel his warmth through the denim fabric, your heart started skipping beat after beat. This was driving you insane, it felt as if the time was as frozen as you were in that instant.

He hummed quietly as his hands made their way up your thighs, hesitating.

He stopped midway, seemingly unsure whether he had the green light or not.

For some reason you felt disappointment rush through your veins when he stopped, replacing the nervousness. As he was about to lift his hands, his fingertips barely grazing your legs, you moved your own hands higher up his chest, your feather touch barely caressing his collarbones under the lightweight shirt.

Thankfully he got the message. His hands latched back to your thighs, but didn’t stay there for long, he immediately moved them up to grab your hips.

You felt goosebumps when his thin fingers slid under the hem of your shirt and collided with the skin of your lower back.

It felt somehow familiar.

His fingers hooked in your Venus’ dimples and your ears felt devilishly hot when they caught the sigh he let escape.

The sound reverberated in your head, kicking out all other thoughts and that small spark of reason you were trying to keep alight.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt, trying to focus on identifying the man who was making you feel all hot and bothered.

As your fingers travelled to the nape of his neck and tangled in his soft hair, his hands were occupied with exploring your back and waist, stopping to lay palms flat against your side, thumbs lightly pressing your stomach.

His face was inching closer and you could smell his cologne, faint but distinguishable.

The scent of hairspray, the softness of his shirt, it all made sense now.

“Ryan?” a whisper struggled to leave your lips.

“Y-yeah…” his breathing fanned against your earlobe. “You have no idea how happy I am that it’s you,” he sighed as his lips brushed against your skin.

A rush of hot blood made your veins pulse, you gulped down the awkwardness.

“I’m happy too…” your hands moved to his back, pulling him closer in a much needed hug.

When you felt his nose bump into yours, all sense and reason escaped you, as an eagerness you didn’t know you could have made its way through your dizzy head.

“Is it okay if…” his lips caressed your cheek as he whispered.

“Yes, please, Ryan, kiss–”, his lips didn’t let you finish the sentence as they immediately captured yours in a loving and chaste kiss.

“I’ve waited for this for so long,” he whined desperately in between sloppy kisses, stopping only to take your blindfolds off.

You hummed against his mouth, hoping he’d understand that you too had been dying to kiss him for God knows how long.

His hands started exploring your back, clashing against the clip of your bra and the hem of your jeans, before settling on the sides of your face. His thumbs traced small circles on your cheeks.

“I really really like you, (Y/N),” he panted.

“I like you too,” you replied before capturing his lips once again.

The make out session left you breathless as you laid your head on his shoulder, while he engulfed you in his tight embrace. It felt like he’d never let you go and you were totally fine with that.

“I think I would have actually cried if you ended up with some other jerk,” he chuckled.

“Were you jealous?” you teased, knowing full well you were thinking the same exact thing.

“Shut up. Wouldn’t you also be jealous if the girl you liked for years ended up making out with someone else?”

“Touché, Ross,” you chirped gleefully. He liked you. The prettiest and kindest and smartest person you’d ever laid eyes upon reciprocated your feelings. It felt unreal.

“Don’t you think time should be up by now?” he tilted his head.

“Oh fuck, you’re right. Did they forget us or what?”

“Not that I’m complaining if we accidentally end up staying here all night,” he teased sarcastically, “who knows what might happen.”

“Shut up!” you laughed.

The closet fell silent. You really should be looking for a way to get out.

Thankfully it seemed that Brendon read your minds, cause you suddenly felt frantic footsteps approaching hurriedly and a string of mumbled ‘fuck fuck fuck’s.

“We can continue this later, right?” Ryan whispered in your ear, as he moved just a couple inches back. You could literally feel the cocky smirk adorning his beautiful face.

You turned to look at him right as the closet door opened, “Fuck guys I’m so sorry, we went to grab some more vodka bottles and didn’t hear the timer go off I’m so sorry fuck,” Brendon’s hand was outstretched, offering you help to get out.

Thank God he didn’t seem to notice your tousled hair and laboured breath.

Your eyes went immediately looking for Ryan’s, his gaze making you melt.

“Don’t worry, we had fun,” he winked at you.

You rolled your eyes. He was back to his annoying usual self, which you couldn’t help but love all the same as the desperate whiny mess he was just a couple minutes ago.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

i highly hope there were no mistakes as english isn't my native language and this was my very first time writing a fanfic :)