#and my anxiety about waking up late and also how long the drive might end up being

[aastarions]

i went to the beach again yesterday right and the only place i managed to get sunburned was the top of my right hand and a little of my forearm like its such an odd place for me LOL i usually get burnt on my shoulders or chest or smth 

[unrequitedloveletter]

Hello!I saw your requests are open and I'm so excited because you're such a good writer!! If it's alright, could you please write "If we have to leave our bed today, I will kill the resin we have to" hugs from your prompt list with Kaz x Reader? Maybe when he's a little older maybe late 20's and is a lot more comfy with touch (still has bad days/moments of complete touch aversion of course) but maybe he's slightly touch starved if anything in this fic? Thank you xx

Autumn- K.B x gn! reader

Hi!! This request was very fun--I always love writing/reading these types of fics because what can I say, my favs deserve to grow and change--so thank you for sending it in!

I know I'm probably starting to sound like a bit of a broken record with it now, but I am also very sorry for how long this took! I've been meaning to write it since it came in but life and motivation slipped away for a bit there. I hope you like it despite how long it took and again, I am SO SORRY!!

Fic type- this is so so so SO fluffy!!

Warnings- there's a couple of mentions of anxiety in relation to his touch aversion and kaz's touch aversion is discussed a lot. Kaz is also probably a little ooc, and this was written at around half past midnight and then queued for later, so the editing might not be as good as it could be

As Kaz woke, he found that the first day of autumn was to be your favorite kind of day. The kind where the leaves had already begun to change colors, the kind where a downpour hit Ketterdam, the kind where such a downpour still didn't manage to drive the pigeons away from the clubs and the two of you had not a thing to worry about in the world because you refused to allow yourselves that kind of worrying.

One of his arms was draped over your waist, his chin against your shoulder, and his heart kicking off at a racing pace because of it.

Waking up like that still sometimes sent his body off into a thousand different directions, each one more fervently anxious than the last, but the come-down from the anxiety and the anxiety itself had been easier to get through as time went on.

Kaz ghosted his lips against your shoulder. Everything is fine, he told himself. I am fine. I am holding the person I love, and they are alive, too, and we are alive together.

He felt you stir, wrap your arms around his waist, and effectively pull him into a hug.

You pulled away after a minute, and Kaz's hand moved up, gently tracing your lips.

"Any obligations?" You asked.

"None of note," Kaz said. "Or--none that I am unwilling to leave to tomorrow."

You grinned. "So, a day in bed it is, then?"

One of your arms moved to rest against his shoulder, your hand finding his hair like it were clockwork.

"If such is what you fancy," Kaz said. "I, of course, fancy it too."

You laughed. Kaz pulled you closer and you let him, content to be wrapped within the embrace that it had taken him a decade to be able to pull you into.

Kaz's touch aversion had been something that you never really minded. You loved him regardless of the fact that he couldn't touch you, and his actions made up for all of the hugs, kisses, and affections in the world anyway.

But, when you were eighteen and Kaz found that the mere idea of holding your hand was something with which he still struggled, he decided he was going to find a way to get better.

He wanted to do it for you, for every wistful smile you gave when you watched Matthias press a quick kiss to Ninas cheekbone, for every single one you gave when you would notice Jesper approaching Wylan, only to wrap his arms around Wylans shoulders and press a kiss to his forehead when Wylan leaned back and said hello.

But, on the other side of that coin, Kaz decided to do it for himself. Jordie had died when he was nine, and while he wasn't sure he would ever stop grieving the brother he'd lost to Pekka and his cons, he knew that he could not scorn the idea of touching others forever. He could not forever put off the idea of ending a business deal with the shake of a hand in his ungloved one, couldn't forever glare at people who'd dared touch his arms or hands or shoulders in passing.

A decade had gone by since he'd made that decision, and all in all it seemed to have paid off.

Sure, there were indeed bad days, but that was to be expected. Things like a long lasting touch aversion don't just go away overnight, and Kaz knew that. You knew it, too, and you didn't fault him for those bad days whatsoever.

"I love you," you said as Kaz pulled away enough to press a kiss to your forehead. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," Kaz said, part of him cringing at how long it had taken him to repeat the words back. The two of you had started dating when you were eighteen and Kaz couldn't say the words until you were twenty-three, when you'd already been saying them for a year and telling him that his actions spoke louder than his words and that you didn't need to hear him say it back.

He'd stopped viewing love as weakness at twenty-three, when an old but well respected gang associate had told him that trying to think love made him anything but strong was idiotic while the group was on a heist in Ravka.

The bloke was seventy, maybe, and had apparently adopted that mindset early on into his life. He'd kept it up til he was in his fifties and cost himself a family, a partner. Thinking of love as a weakness was something he'd gone on to regret, and while he'd indeed found the love of his life at fifty-two, he still regretted all else that the mindset had cost him.

Loving you, he realized, made him strong. On his most difficult days, you were there to offer a listening ear and a solution.

Love was not a weakness, as it turned out, and some days, despite what the seventeen year old Kaz Brekker might've said if he knew, love was what kept twenty-eight year old Kaz Brekker going.

One of your hands treaded through his hair before moving down his forehead, along the scope of his nose and his cheekbones, then his chin and his lips and the center of his neck, finding the divot at it's end that indicated the middle of his collarbone.

Kaz decided, in that moment, he would kill the reason you needed to leave your shared bedroom if one came up. He loved moments like those as much as you did, cherished them with everything he had because they were few and far between.

You pulled him down just a bit, pressed a kiss to his forehead and then a quick peck to his lips after he'd nodded and affirmed it was okay to, and Kaz looked at you and all that he could think of was the fact that you were so close.

You were so close to him, and he was so close to you, and he didn't want to do anything more than get closer.

"I love you," he said, breathless and touch starved and full of enough yearning to last five lifetimes.

"I love you too," you responded. Kaz's lips dipped near yours, and when you nodded, he kissed you.

It was kiss that said everything that Kaz couldn't manage to form into words, gratitude and joy and contentedness and sheer, undying and fiery love.

When Kaz pulled away, you were grinning, and so was he.

Eventually the two of you drifted off to sleep again, the only thoughts in your minds having been how much of a joy it was to be in the others company.

[witheringvoice]

Not A Vent Poem, A Vent

I wish I could be the type of person who gets pissed. I rarely do, I'm upset, I'm slightly peeved, how do you spell that? Grammarly will probably tell me if I got it right, I don't have premium tho. Oh well.

TW: Mentions of abuse, suicidal thoughts, whatever else, PTSD, stuff like that

I have struggled with sleep for as long as I could remember. When I was young, I had too much energy or random nightmares, or I just didn't have the lack of energy to be able to fall asleep and I was too restless not to. And don't forget the fact I'm the jumpiest motherfucker I know, I can't block out noises and any little noise will make me have to restart the passing out process, especially if it scares me shitless. And sometimes what I listen to sleep (some form of sleep aid, music related, an old stream, old youtube videos, music in general) doesn't work and I have to spend god knows how long finding something else that will be "calm" yet also mind-numbing enough to keep me distracted from my restlessness and constant moving brain to keep me able to sleep. And also, not to mention the fact that I did something dumb during quarantine, and now sleeping is so hard because I have to literally create a fucking dream before passing out, and to my dismay that is never the actual dreams I have, plus my constant waking up nearly every hour. For fucks sake.

When someone talks shit about my problems, it can really get to me. Like, yeah, I know I should be asleep. You don't think I want to be? It's four thirty-five am and I'm desperate to sleep, but I'm also too scared to because I know the moment I attempt to close my eyes I'll be met with a nightmare, a dream of some kind that might have something emotionally affecting even if it's not a nightmare, a dream that is happy or chaotic and I'll end up being saddened by, or the fact that I won't be able to sleep at all, which is always the thing that happens, ALWAYS. There have been times when I almost passed out at school, passed out on my feet, nearly fell over, and collapsed. Blood rushes to my head every time I get up, I lose my vision, I don't know what happens to me, I don't know why I can't sleep, anxiety? depression? PTSD? other issues I have?

I'm hurt, I'm scared, I'm lost. And my own fucking mother has the audacity to say in a disappointed, and irritated raised voice, "you really need to fix your sleep schedule" or something like that. Mom, my deal mum, dearest mom (I can't call her mother, my friend's nickname is mother, mother is cool, my mom isn't always very cool), I CAN'T. I can't fucking sleep, I know I desperately need to, the school year's coming up, and I really need to sleep. I'll be starting high school, I'll be starting pre-calculus, I'll be starting extra fucking anxiety because I went to a project-based middle school which was a lot fucking smaller than the other middle school in the district and I could barely handle that many students. There has been a multitude of times over the last school year, and much before that too, when I've functioned on an hour or less sleep (to be fair I also have such bad anxiety that I have to wake up so fucking early or I'll believe I'm late, even if there is no possible way I'll be late. Oh god and my moms gonna be driving me to school now, oh god we used to get late a lot, what the fuck am I gonna do, the stares, the disappointment of my teachers...), AND YEAH IT FUCKING SUCKED. But I survived, I managed, and somehow, I am not dead. She should be fucking proud, fucking proud that I haven't given up, done some horrible fucked up shit to me that I've thought about, that I keep trying, that I attempt to get sleep eventually, that I manage to get a sliver of sleep even if it's restless fucking sleep that sometimes does less damage than good. She should be fucking proud that my grades were fine, that I'm an overachiever and I'm going to high school having already taken some high school classes and am going in with some random ass credits that a normal freshman should have, I HAVE/HAD THE OPPORTUNITY TO POTENTIAL GO AND BE A SOPHOMORE, to be fair I still don't know if that opportunity will happen, BUT IT WAS A POSSIBILITY. And I'm tired, so tired, physically, emotionally, mentally, in every way possible. I've been tired for so long, and she has the fucking audacity. God, I love her, I've loved her even probably when I shouldn't, through all of the fucking terrible shit she's done, I didn't even bat an eye and say anything about it, I tried to be her happy-go-lucky smart little beam of a child. I tried to be the youngest little cheerful prodigy. So much of myself has been fake since I can remember, and I don't even know who I am anymore. All I know is work, work work work. School is all I'm good at, and I'm not even good at it anymore. I loved to learn, but now I'm tired. I'm so tired, I'm so so tired. Please, she tries her best, right? Yeah she gambles, yeah she smokes even though I'm allergic and gave me asthma because of it, yeah she's physically harmed me a few times, but not as much as she did to my siblings before I was born! She used to be really bad, she's told me a lot. She tells me I should be happy she's better, is that a bad thing for her to say? I don't know, I don't know. She's said a lot of really bad shit, she doesn't drink much anymore though she never really got drunk around us. She's just stressed, right? I mean yeah she shouldn't have taken it out on us, and yeah it's only me now but I'm the least argumentative! I'm so quiet, haha my name's Silence...What am I gonna do? She isn't the worst mother in the world, I should be grateful, right? She's barely physically harmed me, and those times were so far in between each other, she'd never do it again, right? When she got into bad arguments with my brother it was scary, they got physical a few times, and it was really really scary. I don't like arguing, I don't think my therapist realizes my PTSD doesn't just stem from the Victor incident, that was just the final straw, the final trigger. Or at least I think so, arguments always sort of triggered me, and then that incident happened and then everyone was like- "Oh fuck this child has PTSD now." No, I probably had it, but nobody noticed because I cover for my family.

[yourlocalfictionalenthusiast]

IN LIFE, IN DEATH...

PART TEN

:Masterlist:

A/N: And that’s a wrap! Ahh, writing this series has been so fun and I’m so glad that so many of you have liked it so much. Thank you guys for staying until the end and hopefully for upcoming stuff 👀 I hope you enjoy the finale of In Life, In Death... <3

(Also the song mentioned in part six and this part is ‘She Is Love’ by Parachute) <3

-

December 1994

Luke groaned as he woke up, squinting hard to try and adjust his eyes to the amount of light in the room.

Even before he could see clearly, he knew he must've fallen asleep in the studio judging by the soreness in his back and neck that he always got when he slept on the old couch. It couldn't have been more than six in the morning, and Luke could still feel the tiredness in his bones. So he tried to turn away from the light and hopefully fall back asleep, but there was something keeping him firmly in place.

His heart skipped when he looked down and saw that you were laying right next to him with your head on his chest and an arm thrown across his stomach. When he realized that his own arms were wrapped around you, his heart broke out into a full-on tap dance.

Waves of confusion ran through his still-foggy brain until he saw his guitar case propped up against the piano and his backpack on the floor with his clothes spilling out of it.

Then the events of last night quickly came back to him.

How he had gotten home late from rehearsal and his mom was waiting in the kitchen with his latest report card and her signature lecture at the ready. One minute he was standing there yelling, packing all he could fit into his bag, and the next, he was halfway to the studio with the rain soaking him head to toe.

He had expected it to be empty when he finally got there, but he was flooded with relief when he saw you. All the frustration slowly melted out of him the longer he laid there with you, leaving him feeling exhausted and shivering despite how warm he felt.

The last thing he wanted to do was talk about any of it, but when you asked, the words came out of his mouth before he could stop them.

He remembered rambling and crying again, the sound of your voice and the feeling of your fingers in his hair warming him up even more. Then finally, he remembered falling asleep with his chin tucked on top of your head, the smell of your shampoo filling his senses.

Without thinking, Luke reached down and carefully pushed a piece of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear and smiling to himself when you shifted into his touch. Then taking in a sharp breath as the realization ran through him all the way down to his toes.

You were his best friend.

The person he wanted to see at the end of a long day. Whenever he was full of anger or lost in confusion, all he had to do was look at you and everything suddenly made sense again. With your pretty smile and laugh, and your way of flipping that little switch inside him that made his head all fuzzy and the ground start spinning under his feet.

You were his best friend, and he was in love with you.

-

2020

All you felt was a mixture of anxiety and nausea as you stood on the Orpheum's street corner, biting the tips of your fingernails.

The entire plan hinged on Willie and Teddy getting everything done in time, and considering that they had betrayed you all before, you couldn’t help but expect the worst.

“Look, don’t worry. Willie said he’ll get us on that marquee.” Alex said nervously as he kicked pebbles across the sidewalk.

“This is going to work, right?” Reggie asked.

“It has to.” Luke mumbled, wincing seconds later when another shock hit them.

Two sharp pops cut through the air behind you and you all whipped around to see Willie and Teddy standing just a few feet away. Willie was watching you all carefully with concern written all over his face, his eyes lingering on Alex longer than anyone else. Teddy stood at the edge of the group, practically burning a hole in your face with his guilty stare.

“Are you guys okay?” Willie asked.

“Yeah, nothing we haven’t felt before.” Alex laughed awkwardly. “How’d it go?”

“Well, when the opening band wakes up, they’ll find their bus two hundred miles out of Vegas.” Willie said with a proud smile as he did a spin, showing off his stolen jacket with the band’s name across the back.

“With absolutely no chance of getting back in time.” Teddy added.

Luke gave Willie a fistbump and pointed up to the office above the Orpheum. “That means there’s probably a promoter up there freaking out right now.”

Willie grinned, sarcasm laced in his tone. “Nah, man. This is Hollywood. I’m sure he’s being very professional.”

You laughed and then Alex slowly inched forward, clearly struggling for the right words to say to Willie. You gave his arm a quick squeeze before following Reggie and Luke down the street to give them space. Before you even got halfway down the sidewalk, Teddy poofed next to you.

“You know, If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you don’t want to talk to me.” He joked.

“Teddy-”

"I just-I didn't want to leave things the way we did." He rambled. "I'm sorry, I should've told you everything that night in the diner-"

"Teddy, It's okay." You said. "You told me before Caleb could put the stamp on me, and you didn't know the details about the plan until after it was too late to help my friends. Plus, I know how much you're risking helping us now."

As soon as the words left your mouth, you felt some of the weight fall off your shoulders. You weren't sure why since the situation was still a little painful and awkward. But being around Teddy always made you feel a little like that kid who started working at the diner with Cece all those years ago. Besides, they were so alike that you found it hard to stay mad at him.

You held out your hand for Teddy to shake. "Despite everything, I'm glad we met."

“Likewise, Gorgeous,” Teddy said with a relieved smile as he grasped your hand. With a subtle wink, he nodded over towards where Luke was standing at the end of the street. “He’s a lucky guy.”

"What? How did you?-" You sputtered as he stepped away. You never told Teddy about Luke, or at least you didn't think you did.

Teddy just smirked in response before disappearing into the air. At the same time, you saw Willie skate away out of the corner of your eye, leaving Alex alone on the sidewalk.

You all phased next to him and Luke squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "You okay, man?"

"Yeah. I'm good." Alex smiled slyly as he gestured to the office. "Looks like this show needs a new opening act though."

You grinned. "Let's go see if we can help with that."

-

When you got back to the studio, you found Julie pacing back and forth in the middle of the room as she wrung her hands together.

When you all poofed in, she immediately jumped into a load of questions, losing her breath halfway through and flailing her arms around.

"Whoa, just sit down," You laughed excitedly. "We'll tell you everything."

Julie took a gasping breath and plopped backwards onto the couch then stared at you all with expectant eyes. "Well?"

"It worked!" You announced. "Everything's fine."

"You should be getting the call...now!" Alex pointed to Julie’s phone on the table just as it started buzzing. You all cheered and Julie shushed you as she answered the call.

You heard a woman's voice say something through the phone and Julie gave a thumbs-up as she started jumping on the couch. You watched in amusement and mild horror as Luke and Reggie lifted Alex up into the air and spun him around.

Once he was back on the ground, Luke and Reggie made a beeline for you, each of them grabbed one of your arms and flipped you upside down over their shoulders.

You all spent the next twenty minutes laughing and screaming and Alex even got a little teary-eyed but you pretended not to notice. Then Julie called Flynn and ran off excitedly to decide her outfit for the night, leaving the four of you alone to plan out the setlist.

“Okay, so I’m thinking we start with Stand Tall.” Luke said excitedly as he wrote the words down in his songbook.

“Sounds good.” Reggie said, suddenly quiet.

“’Sounds good’? Guys, I wanna hear ‘That sounds awesome!” Luke reached out and nudged Reggie’s shoulder. “I know this isn’t the way we imagined any of this. But we need to be all in tonight. This is our second chance to play the Orpheum!”

“I get it.” Reggie sputtered. “But it’s hard. Do we even know what’s on the other side when we cross over? Do we still get to hang out together?”

You shifted your weight as the happy little bubble surrounding you popped. You had been so wrapped up in the excitement of finally playing the Orpheum that you almost forgot what tonight was really about.

“You guys are the only family I have.” Reggie’s eyes were glued to the piano as he played with his fingers. You reached out and locked his arm with yours in an attempt to comfort him.

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen either. But it’s not like we have a choice.” Alex said.

Suddenly, Reggie’s arm fell out of yours as all three boys fell back, clutching their sides.

“I’m pretty sure we do.” Reggie groaned. “And it rhymes with ‘Hollywood Ghost Club’.”

The garage doors creaked open and Julie appeared with a bright smile and a blue garment bag in her hand. When she saw your expressions, her smile fell. “What’s wrong?”

“We just got hit pretty hard by one of those jolts.” Alex said. “But we’re fine.”

“Oh, good.” She nodded, though she still looked on edge. “I’m nervous.”

“That makes two of us.” You said. “But we made it this far for a reason. We got this.”

“Can you ride there with me? I'm gonna need more pep-talk material for the drive there cause I still think I might puke.” Julie tucked her hair behind her ears.

“Of course, and don't worry, we’ll leave the windows open.” You joked, making everyone laugh.

The sound of a car horn cut through the air and Julie looked outside. "That's my dad. Are you ready, (Y/n)?"

You nodded. "Yeah, uh, give me a second. I'll meet you in the car."

As Julie disappeared behind the doors, you turned to the boys and sighed as you tried to soak up this moment. For all you knew, this could be the last little window of time you had alone with them before tonight.

Julie was a huge part of the band of course, but these were your boys. The ones who you started this all with, who had been by your side for everything.

From the look on all their faces, you could see that they were thinking the same thing.

Without saying a word, you launched yourself at Alex. He made a surprised noise but recovered quickly, throwing his arms around you and holding you tight.

"And I'm the emotional one?" He jokingly muttered in your ear and you pinched his side, making him jump back. "Rude."

As soon as your arms were open, Reggie stepped forward and hugged you so tightly that you were thankful to not need oxygen anymore because he was definitely crushing several vital organs.

You laughed and gave him one last squeeze before pulling away, locking eyes with Luke instantly.

Alex cleared his throat awkwardly and grabbed Reggie's shoulder, steering him over to Luke's songbook to 'check out the setlist again'.

"And then there were two." Luke joked.

You laughed and stepped into his waiting arms, making him laugh. You soaked up the feeling of comfort and familiarity for a minute before pulling away.

"This, uh, is for you," Luke said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. You knitted your eyebrows together in confusion as he handed it over. "I wanted you to have it in case...well, you know. If tonight doesn't work."

"It will." You said, trying to ignore the fact that it very well could happen. "You're not getting rid of me that easily, Patterson."

"I wouldn't dream of it." He quipped back, his voice sounding softer and less teasing than you would've expected. You pulled back from him and because you didn't know if you would ever get another chance, you stood on your tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek.

You moved away too fast to see his reaction but the gesture made the other two boys smirk at you as you dashed out of the doors, making a beeline for the car pulling out of the driveway.

-

The back rooms of the Orpheum were a maze.

You had left for a few minutes to walk around the venue and clear your head, trying to wring out the last of your nerves.

By the time you found your way back, you expected to find the rest of the band rushing to get ready in the dressing room. But all you saw was Julie anxiously pacing as she had been earlier, a habit she seemed to have inherited from both you and Alex.

“You okay?”

She snapped her head up towards you and sighed. “Yeah, just a little worried. The guys aren’t here yet.”

You looked around the room and then at the clock, frowning. The show was in less than half an hour and that was already cutting it close. Part of you wanted to go check on them but Julie seemed to need you more at the moment.

“Okay, well, give them another ten minutes. I'm sure they'll be here. They wouldn’t miss this…again.”

You ran your palm across the front of your pocket, feeling Luke's note next to your parent’s photo, and hoped you were right.

But then more and more time passed until the stage manager came to escort Julie to the stage.

"Just a second!" She calls out and then turns to you. "(Y/n), something's wrong. They were getting those jolts pretty hard before we left. They must've run out of time."

You shut your eyes tight as the words sunk in. All you could bring yourself now was, ‘This isn't what was supposed to happen.’

The world fell out from under your feet and you had trouble even standing up straight as you imagined what must've happened to them. Your best friends, your brothers, your family was gone and there wasn't anything you could do about it.

The guy knocked again, this time a little harder and with a nervous tone. Julie chewed her lip as she looked between you and the door and you could almost see the cloud of grief settling over her.

As hard as it was, you tried your best to shove your feelings down and marched up to Julie. There would be time to fall apart later, but you knew that this what they would want you to do. "Let's go do this for them, okay?"

She took a deep, shaky breath before hesitantly nodding. You followed closely behind her as she walked out the door though the halls until she reached the stage. You waited beside Flynn in the wing as Julie settled behind her microphone and addressed the crowd.

There were scattered claps from around the venue and then she took a deep breath before singing the opening.

After the first few lines, you took your cue and materialized at the center of the stage. The crowd gasped and cheered the way they always did, but you kept your eyes shut tight and focused on the music.

Just as the song started picking up, you heard a familiar pop in the air and then the sound of drumming. You whirled around to see Alex mounted onto a drum set at the back of the stage, twirling his drumsticks around and smiling like he had never been gone at all.

Once you got over the initial shock, you wanted to cry with relief. They were okay, they were here. Alex winked at you goofily, and you ran towards Julie’s keyboard.

She had started bouncing on the balls of her feet, both of you finally getting into the song now that they were coming back. You followed suit, dancing around the base of the drum set as yours and Julie’s voices came together.

Then Reggie appeared on the other side of Julie and you ran to his side. You bumped his shoulder with yours and he grinned, moving to stand back to back.

The song was ramping up to the chorus when a staticky noise cut through the air, not loud enough for the crowd to hear but enough to make you all look over to the other end of the stage.

You could see Luke's form fading in and out, a look of anguish on his face, and the pit in your stomach opened up again. The crowd was on the edge of their seats as Alex's drumming paused and Luke finally materialized to sing the opening of the chorus.

You didn't even know you were moving until you suddenly found yourself across the stage next to Luke, unable to stop smiling as you sang.

Julie joined you, throwing her arms up in the air happily and jumping around. Reggie appeared by her side, flashing the crowd a winning smile.

Alex stood up and gripped his mic as he sang this solo. You looked back at him and flashed him a proud smile, then whooping loudly when Reggie sang his lines.

You all went down the line hitting your notes until the chorus kicked in again and your heart felt so full you almost couldn't stand it. This was what you were so close to achieving before you died, it was all you had wanted for years, and you knew that if you hadn't died, that night would've changed your life. But this night was something even more special. Because you were all here, all together.

Even if it was just for one last song.

Julie caught your attention and nodded towards the platform that spread out into the crowd. You followed her to the center and stood back to back as everyone cheered.

The guys joined in on either side of you, Alex grabbing one of your hands and Luke holding the other. You all bowed to the audience before taking your cue and vanishing, leaving only Julie on stage.

You landed in the wing, feeling a little lightheaded and overwhelmed from all the emotions you had experienced in the last five minutes. The elated smile fading from your face when all three boys poofed by your side only to fall to the floor instantly.

“It didn’t work.” You said miserably as Julie emerged into the backstage area. She grabbed Flynn and whispered something to her, pointing in the direction of her family. Flynn nodded and disappeared into the crowd while Julie ran to your side.

You hauled Alex onto his feet, letting him lean on you to stay upright while Luke and Reggie trailed behind Julie as she led the group back to the dressing room. Once everyone was inside, they collapsed on the couch or the floor, loudly groaning in pain.

“What happened? Why didn’t it work?” Julie asked tearfully.

“I guess playing here wasn’t our unfinished business.” Alex said hollowly.

“Point Caleb.” Reggie muttered as he clung to the side of an armchair.

You stood frozen next to Julie as panic spread through your whole body, both of you flinching in sympathy as the shocks continued.

“You have to save yourselves right now.” Julie begged. “Join Caleb’s club. It’s better than not existing at all!”

“She’s right.” You managed to say, your voice shaky and almost giving out. Your stomach flipped at the thought of them having to work for an evil club owner forever, but the alternative was worse. “You guys need to go now! For me. For us.”

“We’re not going back there.” Reggie shook his head.

Luke pulled himself up and stumbled forward a little so that he was right in front of you. “No music is worth making if we’re not all making it together.”

You sighed sadly, thinking back to your conversation yesterday. “So no more regrets?”

Luke let out a deep sigh and then reached up and cupped your cheek with his right hand. “Just one.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in response and Luke blinked hard as if he was trying to find the words. "I never told you why I left that night."

"Luke, don't." You gave him a weak smile. "I get it."

"You do?" He asked.

You struggled to get the words out. "Yeah, I mean it was bound to happen eventually. We just got too close and it was weird for you. I understand t-”

"What?" Luke asked, cutting you off with a confused look. "No, no, that's not it at all. Read the-"

Before he could finish, you heard Julie gasp loudly from a few feet away. You looked over to see her stepping back from Alex with an awestruck look on her face as she gripped his forearms.

Wait, what?

Before you could even begin to process what you were seeing, Reggie was reaching out to Julie, who grabbed his wrist and hauled him up to his feet. The three of them stared at each other for a few seconds before Julie turned to you and Luke.

“Guys, come here.”

Alex reached out and pulled you into his side while Luke threw an arm around Reggie’s back and Julie brought you all in closer to her. At first, nothing happened. But then there was a faint buzzing sound and the boys lifted their wrist towards the ceiling and you all watched in awe as the stamp floated away in the blink of an eye.

“Whoa.” Reggie said, his eyes still glued to the ceiling. “I don’t feel as weak anymore.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Alex agreed. “Not that I ever was that weak in the first place.”

You rolled your eyes and let your head fall over on his shoulder. “What do you think that means?”

Luke smiled. “I think it means the band is back.”

It was quiet for a second before Alex looked at you all shyly. “You guys think we can try that hug thing again?”

You laughed as you huddled together again, sniffling and laughing. Then Julie yelled out that you had played the Orpheum and then you were all jumping around, still tangled in each other’s arms.

Eventually, you all broke apart and while the boys started chasing each other around, you turned to Julie. She looked into your eyes and immediately flew into your arms, muttering into your shoulder, “I always wanted a big sister.”

The words warmed your heart and you squeezed her extra hard, grateful that you actually could now. “Well, I’m honored.”

“My family's probably looking for me so..." Julie stepped back from your arms with the biggest smile you’d ever seen on her face, you jokingly bowed to her and she copied the gesture before disappearing behind the door.

You wiped the last of your tears out of your eyes and turned around to find Alex and Reggie were talking in whispers and wearing knowing smiles. When Alex saw you looking, he cleared his throat and nudged Reggie’s shoulder.

“Hey, Reg.” Alex said cheekily, not taking his eyes off of you for even a second. “I was going to check out the next band. You wanna come with me?”

“Sure!” Reggie started strolling towards the door, stopping only for a second to nudge your shoulder and whisper ‘don't do anything I wouldn’t do’ in your ear.

Alex fixed Luke with a pointed look over his shoulder and Reggie gave him a dorky wink before they poofed away. You smiled fondly at the space where they were just standing and awkwardly turned towards Luke.

“Hi.” You said, laughing awkwardly.

“Hi.” Luke muttered back as he stepped forward until he was close enough to grab your hand. “About what I was saying earlier…”

You opened your mouth to say something but he shook his head and pointed to your pocket. “Read it. Please.”

You tugged the note he had given you earlier out of your pocket and carefully folded it open to see that it wasn’t a note at all. It was the love song that Julie had found that day in the garage, the one that he didn’t want anyone to see. You struggled a little trying to decipher Luke's handwriting. The ink was a little smudged and the song was clearly unfinished but it was the most beautiful thing you had ever read. And he had written it for you.

"I didn't leave because we got too close," He said. "It was the opposite, (Y/n), I left because I was scared to lose you, and I know that doesn't make sense because I kind of did w-"

You carefully tucked the paper back in your pocket with one hand and grabbed the back of his neck with the other, pulling him down and closing the last bit of space between you.

Luke's brain short-circuited for a second before he started kissing back, grabbing your waist with enough force to nearly knock you both backwards. It was dizzying and a little desperate, yet weirdly familiar, as if you'd been kissing him your whole life.

Most moments with Luke felt like they were happening in slow motion, but this time it was like a high-speed movie montage of your whole lives. The stolen crayons, the time capsule, the pre performance pep talks, the smell of cinnamon, the ferris wheel, his jacket, the movie nights and songwriting sessions. All of it had led up to this moment.

"I love you." Luke said immediately after you pulled away. "God, I love you so much. I'm such an idiot. I'm sorry."

“Hey, it’s okay.” You laughed, blinking another wave of tears out of your eyes. “I should’ve told you forever ago instead of skirting around it.”

“And what is it that you should’ve told me?” He said teasingly and you rolled your eyes. You had gotten so used to Luke being so shut down or nervous around you that you almost forgot how much of a little shit he could be.

“That I love you too.” You said, unable to stop smiling.

Luke leaned down and captured your lips in another kiss, this time threading his fingers through your hair as he cupped your cheeks in his hands. “I’m never gonna get tired of hearing that.”

You bit your lip to keep another laugh from bubbling up as you looked up at him, feeling completely overwhelmed in the best way possible. "So...what now?"

"I don't know." Luke admitted. "But I know one thing."

"What's that?"

"That no matter where we go, or what we do," He pushed a piece of hair behind your ear. "In life, in death... I'm yours. Always."

-

The End

-

In Life, In Death Taglist:

@ifilwtmfc @instabull @wanniiieeee @tenaciousperfectionunknown @charliegillespiewife @merceret @itismeasmolpotato @lilostif16 @dangerouslyclose @iainttakingshitfromnobody @givemebooksorgivemedeath @sunsetcurvedotmp3 @askgeoff @mayleenicole5676 @puppy11148 @vampire7595 @wackyworrieruniverse @reallysparklychaos @lovelydaydreams15 @rachmmb @musicismyescape27 @stackie4ever​ @spidermankenobi

(Strikethrough means I can’t tag you)

JATP Taglist:

@caitsymichelle13 @sunsetcurvej​

Let me know if you want to be added!

[zevlors-tail]

S/O Has A Self Harm Relapse - Deku

Original ask here.

A/N: Sorry this took so long! My dms are always open, and I’m always here to talk to if anyone needs it! I also hope this is relatable, because I know SH can be very personal and everyone has their own reasons. Remember that your progress is valid even when slip ups happen, and that you are loved, always, no matter what. 

TW: Self harm relapse, general negative thoughts and emotions, implied cutting, I didn’t go into detail but it’s still descriptive so PLEASE MIND THE WARNINGS.

Izuku Midoriya/Deku:

“I just don’t know what to do, you know? Things are really tough right now, and I feel like you’re the only one taking the time to understand where I’m coming from. I don’t know who else to turn to...” The hurt in your friend’s voice was evident, causing your eyes to crinkle in worry as you gave them a small concerned smile.

“Everything’s going to be okay. I know it doesn’t feel like that right now, but it will be eventually. You just have to trust me.” Your voice held such a confident tone to it, a promise of better times to come in the near future. You sounded like you were sure of it, as if you knew without a shadow of a doubt that things would be okay- and maybe you did. You truly believed it, genuinely felt that your friend would be okay and that things would work out after all.

“You really think so?”

“I know so,” you responded with conviction.

Just this morning, one of your best friends had texted to ask if you could meet up with them later on in the day to talk about something important. Of course, you being the helpful and loyal friend you were, you immediately agreed and set up a time to see them. It had turned out that they were going through some sort of crisis, something that on the surface didn’t seem to be troubling them, but as they went on about their issue, you saw the way it weighed on their shoulders, saw the way it made them doubt themselves.

You knew how it felt to feel like the world was caving in, like there was no hope left for you. Maybe that was the reason you were always so quick to help others; you couldn’t stand the thought of the people you cared for feeling the same way. No matter what they needed and no matter when they needed it, you were there. One of your friends got into a fight with their parents? You were there. One of them was having troubles with their partner? You were there. If someone else just needed to vent about their shitty day, you were there; you always were. You could never turn them away even if you felt overwhelmed at your own expense. And it was frustrating, too, because no matter how many times you came to their rescue, no one seemed to want to be there for you. Well...almost no one.

There was one person, the light of your life, Izuku Midoriya. He checked in with you often, would remind you to take breaks for yourself (even if you often ignored his requests to do so, much to his dismay), and kept you going when you felt you couldn’t go on any longer. And you were going through so much; between school, work, and home life, you felt completely overwhelmed. Lately, it seemed like your grip on things just seemed to be...slipping. It was getting harder to focus between the sheer amount of anxiety you felt over everything, harder to breathe easy and relax. You supposed it didn’t help that Izuku had been away for a few days for some intense type of training, either. 

Maybe that was the cherry on top, or maybe it was just inevitable, but somehow you found yourself feeling lower than dirt as you sent your friend off with a tight hug, their form fading in the distance as you watched them leave with a deep frown. You understood they had things going on, and of course you didn’t expect them to notice you felt a little off, but you wished that maybe they had just asked if you were alright, too. Even a passing, “I hope you’re doing okay,” would have been nice; something, at least, to let you know the feelings were reciprocated on their end as well. Something to let you know they cared. But they weren’t, and they didn’t, and you sighed heavily as you let your facade shatter around you.

You felt selfish for wishing your friend would care when they were clearly preoccupied with other things. But in the same sense, you couldn’t remember the last time someone asked if you were okay. Things were getting bad again, all of your friends and family needed you and were demanding your attention constantly, and now your boyfriend was away for a few days as well. Between the stacking missed calls and texts you needed to respond to and the sheer amount other’s problems added to yours, it felt like too much. Even the noise of the car radio on the drive home was irritating and overwhelming, and no matter what station you picked, the music and occasional static noise bothered you until you finally had to turn it off completely. But driving in silence proved to be a problem as well, and now you were stuck with the intrusive thoughts in your mind and your heartbeat rushing in your ears. 

The silence of your empty home was deafening. Izuku, who would usually be lounging on the couch with his favorite All Might blanket watching a movie by now if he was home, was nowhere to be found. The lights on the dishwasher blinked at you from the darkness of the kitchen signaling an empty rack. There were no dishes to clean, no clothes to wash or dry, and the TV screen remained darkened and still; there was nothing to distract your mind from the chaos inside of it. And although you were surrounded by quiet, it was by no means peaceful. You felt on edge, overwhelmed, and alone. It was all too much too fast, and you knew of only one solution to quiet the thoughts in your head, even if it was only a temporary fix.

Right now, in this moment, you just needed everything to stop. You needed a distraction, a different source of pain to redirect your focus. Still, you hated yourself with every step you took until you came to stand in front of the bathroom sink, the familiar cabinet doors leering at you more maliciously than usual. 

You knew what lied behind those doors in the far left corner on the bottom shelf.

***

It was two more days before Izuku returned home, the telltale sign of jingling keys ringing through the air as he opened the front door and slipped inside. He tossed his keys to the table and kicked off his shoes. You heard him lock the door behind himself, footsteps heavy on the carpeted floor as he dropped his bags in the living room and took a moment to relax and settle in. In a way, you were grateful he didn't immediately come to see you; you were curled up in bed, anxious and ashamed about what you had been doing while he was gone. He wouldn’t look at you the same way again after this, you were sure of it.

You listened as Izuku trekked to the bathroom across the hall, and if you payed enough attention with your half lidded eyes, you could make out his darkened blurry form passing by the open bedroom door. He shut the bathroom door behind him before he turned on the lights (he was always courteous of you and your need to sleep in the dark), his electric toothbrush vibrating to life. You stayed put in bed and listened to the sound of it while pretending to be asleep. But as soon as it hard started it was just as abruptly stopping, and for reasons you couldn’t place, anxiety bubbled up in your chest as you listened to Izuku go eerily silent for at least a good minute. The light from under the bathroom door shifted as he finally moved, his clothing creating a soft rustling noise while he put his toothbrush back on the counter with a quiet clack.

Sensing that the bathroom door was about to open once more, you turned away from the entryway and faced the wall. You didn’t want him to know you were awake; all you wanted was for him to crawl into bed with you and wrap his arms around you like nothing at all had ever happened, like it was any other normal evening. But as luck would have it, that wasn’t what happened.

Izuku switched the lights off and exited the bathroom, making the short trip to the bed with ease before he stood still at the foot of it for a moment. There was a soft whisper of something, your name maybe? You were too nervous to tell.

“Y/N...?”

Something in his tone caused your heart to race with worry. He was testing you, seeing if you were awake...but for what? He usually knew better than to wake you when he came home any time past midnight, even if it was after a few days of intensive training. If he was trying to get your attention now, then it must be something important. Still, you remained “asleep”, a sinking feeling in your gut and a terrifying thought at the back of your brain. There was no way he knew...right? 

When you gave no indication that you heard him, he carefully crawled onto the bed and lie down behind you, arms encasing you protectively and lovingly while he buried his nose into your neck. “Y/N,” he said again, his voice raising a bit. You involuntarily tensed at the sound, and you shriveled in horror as Izuku propped himself up on one elbow behind you while he used his other arm to shake you gently. There was no way you were getting out of this now; he knew you were awake by your movements. if you weren’t apprehensive before, then you surely were now.

“Izu?” you murmured in your best sleepy voice you could muster.

“Hi, love.” There was something in his normally heartwarming smile, something more complicated than usual behind the forest green of his irises as he looked you over. “I’m home.” The crack in his voice took you by surprise, and you saw tears beginning to form on his long lashes.

“Izu, what’s wrong?” You immediately reached out to him, your insecurities and worries all but forgotten about in the moment. “Did something happen while you were away?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that...” 

He welcomed your touch, grasping your smaller hand in one of his much larger ones as you cupped his cheek. He gave you a small smile before leaning into your hand, and no other words were spoken as the two of you sat together in silence for a moment, Izuku trying to calm his ragged breathing while you stared up at him in concern. Finally, he seemed to find his resolve as he sighed heavily and sniffed, eyes fluttering open just to focus solely on you. Izuku shifted so that he was lying back down, one arm draped over your side as you faced him, both of your bodies comfortably resting against one another while you held his gaze.

“Hey, babe?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer as honestly as you can, okay?”

Immediately your heart thundered to life in your chest. You tried to reassure yourself that you were just overthinking things, that there was no logical way he could know about what you’d done while he was away. Was there...?

“Okay.” You hoped your voice didn’t seem as shaky as you felt. 

“Are you bottling things up again?” He was so gentle. The tone in which he asked you had been soft, his eyes glossy, his touch tender as he ran a careful hand over your shoulder and down your back to rub small circles against it.

“What do you mean?” 

Maybe if you acted ignorant, he wouldn’t try to press you any further. But then, this was Izuku, wasn’t it? Who we’re you trying to kid?

“You didn’t seem like yourself when I called you last night. And your friend said you seemed a little off the other day during your visit. I’m just worried about you. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

Sure, there were lots of things you wanted to say, but you didn’t have the courage to say any of them out loud. So instead of confiding in Izuku, you chose to pull away emotionally. Luckily for you, however, this did not manage to go unnoticed by your boyfriend.

“No...I’m fine. Promise.”

“Oh, honey...” The amount of care and concern he held for you in his words made you feel vulnerable. Izuku pulled you into the tightest hug you’d ever felt in your life, his strong arms wrapping around you in a comforting way while he continued. “You don’t have to pretend that everything is okay. I know it’s not.”

Shameful tears dripped sorely from your cheeks as his words started to sink in. After so long of keeping all your feelings to yourself, they finally spilled over and flowed out of you in the form of teardrops that soaked the pillow underneath you. Your walls crumbled and caved, and you clung to Izuku for dear life as you let everything out in the safety of his hold. 

“I’m sorry!” you whispered harshly against his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry-!” For what, you weren’t sure- you just felt the need to apologize. Maybe for relapsing, maybe for crying- or maybe for both.

Izuku hushed you and let you soak his dirtied shirt for as long as you needed. When your sniffles had become less frequent and your hiccups much quieter, he brought his hands to your face, cupping it gently and looking you in the eyes. “Y/N. I love you, and nothing you do or say could change that. Alright?” You nodded in understanding. “I know you’re not okay. I don’t think you realized, but when I went into the bathroom, you...” He struggled to finish his sentence, tears welling up in his eyes again. “You left it out.”

Shit.

Fuzzy memories from earlier played back in your mind as you realized you’d forgotten to put something away that Izuku wasn’t supposed to see. You’d been too busy cleaning the bathroom to remember that you left it sitting on the ledge of the medicine cabinet, right next to the bandages and antiseptic. No wonder he’d stopped brushing his teeth so fast; he must have seen it and put two and two together fairly quickly after that. So then...he knew after all.

“I’m sorry!”

You wanted to say so much more than that. You wanted to tell him you were afraid- afraid that he would leave you, that he would hate you, that he would judge you even though you knew he was the most loving and caring person you could ever ask for. You wanted to tell him you regretted it, that you hated yourself for it, that you wished you could take it back. Of all the things to leave your mouth, those words seemed stuck on repeat. But luckily for you, Izuku always seemed to know how to read you and your words. 

Izuku let go of your face before wrapping you in his arms once more, your head tucked under his chin. “Love, it’s okay. Everything’s alright. I’m not angry, though I am upset that you’re hurting.”

“It was stupid, and I’m sorry, and I wish I never-”

Izuku cut you off. “Oh, Y/N, no. It’s not stupid. You’re in pain, it’s your way of trying to cope. It’s not healthy, and it’s not good, but it’s how you’re trying to survive. And that’s not stupid, Y/N, it’s human. And to be human is to make mistakes.” He gave you a moment to process before carrying on. “Slip ups happen. It doesn’t mean you’re a bad person, or that your progress is all gone, or even that you’re weak. It’s a normal thing. Recovery isn’t linear.”

“What does that mean?” you asked between sobs.

“It means it’s not a straight line, baby. You can’t just quit something cold turkey like that and expect things to go so smooth. It’s great if it does, but...the reality of it is that everyone is different, and while you’ve made a lot of progress already, there will always be ups and downs. And just because you had a relapse doesn’t mean that everything you’ve done before this doesn’t matter anymore. It just means things aren’t so good right now. But we can make them better, together. Okay?”

“Okay...” you mumbled.

“I love you. I’m proud of you for getting this far. We can make it through this, and I’ll be here every step of the way. I’ll do my part and start checking in with you more often, okay?”

You pressed your face into the dry spot of his shirt and clutched at it with both hands. Izuku was your rock, and he wasn’t going anywhere. He was willing to go through this with you and help support you, and that meant the world to you in a place where you felt alone and not worth the time of day.

“I-Izuku?” you hiccuped.

“I’m here,” came his calm reply.

“Don’t leave me, please...”

“Oh, Y/N, I would never. I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’m here.” 

[fatalism-and-villainy]

Reparative Reading

I would love, and indeed have been meaning for a long time, to talk about a piece of academic writing from one of my favourite theorists that I think has an ongoing relevance. This is Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick’s “Paranoid Reading and Reparative Reading,” first published in the mid-to-late 1990’s and compiled in her 2003 monograph, Touching Feeling. There’s a some free PDFs of it floating around (such as here) for those who want to read it in full – and I would recommend doing so, despite its density in places, because Sedgwick has a marvelous critical voice.

Sedgwick’s topic of contention in this essay is the overwhelming tendency in queer criticism to employ what she thinks of as a paranoid methodology – that is, criticism based around the revelation of oppressive attitudes, and that sees that revelation not only as always and inherently a radical project, but the only possible anti-oppressive project. This methodology is closely related to what Paul Ricoeur termed the “hermeneutics of suspicion” and identified as central to the works of Marx, Nietzsche, and Freud, which were all progenitors of queer criticism. Sedgwick objects to the fact that the hermeneutics of suspicion had, at her time of writing, become “synonymous with criticism itself,” rather than merely one possible critical approach. She questions the universal utility of the dramatic unveiling of the presence of oppressive forces, pointing to the function of visibility itself in perpetuating systemic violence, and identifying the work of anti-oppression as one based in a competition for a certain type of visibility. She also rejects the knowledge of the presence of oppression alone as conferring a particular critical imperative, instead posing the question, “what does knowledge do?”

As an example, Sedgwick critiques Judith Butler’s commentary on drag in Gender Trouble, one of the works that she uses as an example of a reading based in a paranoid approach. She identifies Butler’s argument that drag foregrounds the constructed aspect of gender as a paranoid approach, due to its focus on revelation of structures of power and oppression, and she finds Butler’s argument lacking in its neglect in acknowledging the role that joy and community formation play in the phenomenon of drag. Near the end of the essay, she also does an example of a reparative reading of the ending of Proust’s In Search of Lost Time, claiming that the narrator’s remove from the traditional familial structure and its temporality is precisely what confers his particular moment joy and insight upon discovering that his friends have aged. Broadly, Sedgwick rejects the implication that readings based in joy, hope, or optimism are naïve, uncritical, or functionally a denial of the reality of oppression.

Now, it’s important to note that the message of this essay is not that paranoid readings are bad, and reparative readings are good. Sedgwick is drawing on a body of affect theories (most prominently Melanie Klein’s) that posit the reparative impulse as dependent on and resulting from the paranoid impulse – reparation by definition is something that can only occur after some kind of shattering, and Kleinian trauma theories generally posit that process as something that produces a new object or perspective than pre-trauma. (Something I love about Sedgwick is that she often sets up these binaries that seem at odds with each other, but end up being mutually dependent.) Furthermore, the critical tradition in queer studies that Sedgwick is critiquing in this essay is one that was itself, in many ways, a manifestation of communal trauma, particularly with the impact of the AIDS crisis. Sedgwick herself acknowledged this last point in a later essay, “Melanie Klein and the Difference Affect Makes,” claiming that she didn’t feel she did a good enough job of identifying the AIDS crisis as a driving force behind this trend. So Sedgwick is not discounting the utility of paranoid readings, but rather rejecting the notion that they ought to encompass all of criticism. (In fact, a running theme in Touching Feeling is her representation of various perspectives and methods as sitting beside one another, rather than hierarchically.) And reparative reading, as Sedgwick portrays it, is not the denial of trauma or violence, but a possibility for moving forward in its wake.

Why am I taking the time to outline all of this? Because, while the original essay was written almost 25 years ago, with the academic community in mind, it reflects a similar pattern that I see now in online fandom.

Queer fandom (as that’s what I feel the most qualified to talk about) has a considerable paranoia problem. Queer fandom is brimming with traumatized people who carry varying degrees of personal baggage and are afflicted by the general neuroses that come from existing in a heterosexist, cissexist society. And many people in fandom have been repeatedly burned by the treatment of queer people in media – Bury Your Gays, queerbaiting, queercoded villains, etc. And in such a media landscape, and within such a communal sphere, much of fandom has developed the kind of “anticipatory and reactive” method of media criticism that Sedgwick identifies in this essay.

Fandom gets very excited for new media, certainly, and is prone to adulation of media that seems to fit its ideological beliefs. But it is also very quick to hone in on any potential representative flaw, and use that as a vehicle for condemnation. (This cycling between idealization and extreme, bitter jadedness has been widely commented on). Not only is there a widespread moralistic approach in fan criticism that is very invested in deeming whether or not a piece of media is harmful or not, “problematic” or not, within a simplistic binary framing, but that conclusion is so frequently the end of the conversation. “This is problematic,” “this is bad representation,” “this falls into this tired and harmful trope,” etc, is treated as the endpoint of criticism, rather than a starting point. This is the spectacle of exposure that Sedgwick critiques as central to the paranoid approach – simply identifying the presence of oppressive attitudes in a text is not only treated as an analytic in and of itself, but as the only valid analytic. So often I have seen people jump to take the most pessimistic possible approach to a piece of media, and then proceed to treat any disagreement with that reading as in and of itself a denial of structural homophobia, as naïve, and as not being a critical enough reader/viewer. “Being critical” itself has been taken on as a shorthand for this particular process, which many others have commented on as well.

Now, again, I want to stress that taking issue with this totalizing impulse is not discounting the legitimate uses of identification and exposure, or even of reactivity and condemnation. There are particular contexts in which these responses have their uses – in Sedgwick’s words, “paranoia knows some things well and others poorly.” But that approach has a finite scope. And rejecting the universal application of this particular analytic does not itself constitute a denial of the existence of oppression, or its manifestation in media and narratives. Nor is it about letting particular works “off the hook” for whatever aspects they may have that are worthy of critique. Rather, it’s a call to acknowledge that other critical approaches exist, and that the employment of a more optimistic approach is not necessarily a result of ignorance or apathy about the existence of oppression. It is one that invites us not to lay aside paranoia as an approach, but recognize that it has limited applicability, and question when and how our motives might be better served by another approach.  

I think that “is this homophobic, yes or no?” or “is this good representation, yes or no?” are reductive critical approaches in and of themselves. But I think there’s also room for acknowledgment that not everything needs to be read through a revelatory lens regarding societal oppression at all. Rather than “what societal attitudes does this reflect back?” being the approach, I think there could be a good bit more “What does this do for us? What avenues of possibility does this have?” I think there’s already been leanings in this direction with, for example, the reclaiming of queercoded villains, with dialogues that treat those characters not as reflections of societal anxiety and prejudice, but rather as representative of joy and freedom and possibility in their rejection of norms and constraints. I’d like to see that approach applied more broadly and more often.

Let’s try to read more reparatively.  

[lucky-katebishop]

What I Read in September 2021

It's been a stagnant month, but I did find a couple favorites :) as usual, composed of mainly Harry Potter fics but there's a spare Modern Family fic in there and a couple crossovers. I think I read about 27-28 fics :)

Harry Potter

Family Relations by OxfordOctopus

Plot: In which Harry realizes that not even he's exempt from how interconnected magical families are.

Characters: Harry, Pavarti, Hermione, Ron

Relationships: Hermione & Harry & Ron

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: Desi Potter Family; Desi Harry; Hogwarts third year; red-haired Harry Potter

*complete*

Talking to Thestrals by OxfordOctopus

Plot: In a world where Voldemort well and truly died in ‘81, where there are no Horcruxes, where Harry is sequestered off by a man in a flying motorcycle when he's six, and where the only legacy the most feared Dark Lord left behind was his politics and a heavily scarred child, nobody quite realizes that Harry isn’t okay. Nobody but the leathery creatures at the lake, and the girl who looks at them.

Characters: Harry, Luna

Relationships: Harry & Luna

Warnings: anxiety, dissociation, suicidal thoughts, bullying, implied/referenced child abuse, child neglect

Tags: Sirius Black Criticism; Hogwarts second year; Sirius Black Never Went to Azkaban; AU - No Voldemort;

My Notes: Now, I love Sirius just as much as the next girl, but this is such an interesting look at a man raising a kid when he wasn’t ready and the consequences of that (I relate a tad too strongly)

*complete*

Slytherin Politics by OxfordOctopus

Plot: Abused children don't respond well to power plays.

Characters: Harry, Draco, Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence

Tags: violence, broken bones, Slytherin Harry, bullying

My Notes: Harry is so truly terrifying in this fic, it’s wonderful

*complete*

rotten on the inside by cassiopeia721

Plot: Harry's boggart isn't Voldemort, or even a dementor. It's something much worse.

Characters: Harry, Snape, Hermione, Ron

Relationships: Hermione & Harry

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: Hogwarts third year; boggarts; angst; protective Hermione; Hermione is a Good Friend

*complete*

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell by IamShadow21

Plot: Questions asked, questions unasked, secrets told and secrets kept, trust, devotion, empathy and love. Ron and Harry's friendship, from that first day on the Hogwarts Express, right through until after the Battle. Can be read as a friendship fic, or a ship fic. It's open to interpretation.

Characters: Harry, Ron, Fred, George, Hermione, Arthur

Relationships: Harry/Ron

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: canon compliant; canon-typical violence; friendship, hurt/comfort; protective Ron; Protective Fred; Protective George; gen or pre-slash; platonic cuddling; POV Ron

My Notes: now this could be read as pre-slash, as a relationship, or just good friends, but I am so completely head over heels in love with the idea of Harry and Ron! Best friends to lovers!

*complete*

Best Served Cold by enchantedsleeper

Plot: “C’mon, Freddie,” George says suddenly, sotto voce. “Sooner the four of us get out of here, the better.” It hadn’t been the right moment, as they were exploring the Dursleys’ comfortable house in the dead of night, to plant a well-timed trick or a trap and risk blowing the whole operation – and getting Harry into even more trouble with his sadistic relatives. Better just to get Harry out and away from that place. But two years later, Fred and George got their chance for revenge.

Characters: Harry, Fred, George, Ron, Arthur

Relationships: Harry & Ron; Harry & George & Fred

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: Book 4; Harry is an honorary Weasley

*complete*

east, west, home’s best by taizi

Plot: You can never have too many brothers, Ron decides, for the very first time in his life. And there's always room in the Burrow for another Weasley, even if only an honorary one.

Characters: Harry, George, Ron, Fred

Relationships: Harry & Ron

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: Chamber of Secrets; families of choice

*complete*

live for today, hope for tomorrow by Vennat

Plot: Professors are Hogwarts are a little more observant and a little less likely to allow their students to be in harms way. OR A canon rewrite starting from book two, featuring friendship, angst, and a severe lack of oblivious characters.

Characters: Hermione, Harry, Ginny, Ron, Luna, Fred, George, Snape, Draco

Relationships: Hermione & Harry & Ron; Harry & George & Fred; Harry & Ginny; Luna & The Golden Trio; Harry & Snape; Draco & Harry

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; PTSD; panic attacks; blood; vomit; injury; food issues; depression

Tags: friendship; Harry has a saving people thing; mentor Snape; BAMF Harry; Smart Harry; canon rewrite; angst; Dumbledore bashing; Book 2; Harry is a Good Friend; Harry is Bad at Feelings

*complete* [part of a series; hasn’t been updated since 2020]

The Closest Distance Between Two People by StartledStarfish

Plot: In Harry's third year, no dementors boarded the Hogwarts Express in search of Sirius Black. Remus Lupin, the new defense professor, slept the whole way there. He did not wake to cast a patronus. Harry never passed out. Never heard his mother scream. Never saw the flash of green light. Never felt the unspeakable cold drain all the happiness out of him. So when Harry’s turn came to face the boggart, his greatest fear could not be a dementor. Harry blinked and looked up into the smiling face of Albus Dumbledore.

Characters: Harry, Ron, Remus, Dumbledore, Vernon, McGonagall

Relationships: Harry & Ron; Harry & Remus

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; childhood trauma, child neglect

Tags: boggarts, dementors, Dursley Family Bashing; Dumbledore Bashing; healing; angst with a happy ending; Ron makes sure nobody’s sad for long; friendship; laughter

*complete*

Grey Space by noaacat *favorite*

Plot: In 1991, Harry Potter begins his time at Stonewall High, unaware that he is anything more than a boy prone to freakish accidents. When he turns fourteen, he will receive a letter that will change his life. He will learn he is Harry Potter, and be invited into a world where belonging is his birthright. Until then, he stumbles on, two steps forward and one step back, out of the cupboard and into the life he was never meant to have.

Characters: Harry, The Dursleys, Dumbledore, lots of muggle OCs

Relationships: none

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; implied/referenced homophobia; child abuse; child neglect

Tags: AU: Hogwarts Starts Late

My Notes: This one! Is so good! The worldbuilding alone is amazing and the author really did make me immersed in the small sleepy town of Little Whinging. Please, if you read any fic on this list, read this one! It’s so good! Instant favorite!

*complete*

Iron by belleslettres

Plot: Draco also has a penchant for shirts with fiddly collars and cuffs and will not even entertain the notion of going anywhere looking like anything less than perfection. But Harry, who will do almost anything for Draco, refuses to iron them. “My aunt used to make me do all the ironing,” Harry says. “I hated it.”

Characters: Harry, Draco

Relationships: Draco/Harry

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: fluff and angst; post-war; Epilogue what Epilogue; fluff; domestic fluff

*complete*

All That Stands in its Path by thebiwholived

Plot: "An old soul, people might say, and Molly has never quite been sure what such a person would look like, until the day her family meets the Boy Who Lived in a dingy train station on the way to school." Molly Weasley's perspective on the summer Harry Potter comes to stay.

Characters: Harry, Molly, Weasley Family

Relationships: Harry & Molly Weasley

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: canon compliant; book 2

*complete*

To See More Clearly by JellyShark

Plot: Harry didn't make it out of Privet Drive after blowing up Aunt Marge. He is alone, locked away, forgotten. To make things worse, his magic is changing, morphing into something unknown and terrifying. Harry returns to Hogwarts a changed boy, unable to hide the effects of his time with the Dursleys. His Third Year dawns, bringing with it a man who feels like home, a Hufflepuff Prefect, and a dog who reminds Harry of a time when he was loved.

Characters: Harry, Remus, Ron, Snape, Sirius, Hermione, Luna, Cedric, Neville, McGonagall

Relationships: Sirius/Remus; pre Cedric/Harry; Remus & Harry; Hermione & Ron & Harry; Cedric & Harry; Sirius & Harry

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: Harry Needs a Hug; Harry is an Empath; Smart Harry; Magically Powerful Harry; Mentor Remus; flawed but well-meaning Dumbledore; book 3; book 4; Snape gets worse before he gets better; angst; hurt/comfort

*incomplete* [last updated August 2021]

Holidays by diogxnes

Plot: While his housemates discuss the upcoming holidays, Harry cannot help but think of how he never experienced a real Christmas with the Dursleys. Ron notices.

Characters: Harry, Ron, Lavender Brown, Seamus Finnigan

Relationships: Harry & Ron

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: book 1; missing scene; canon compliant; emotional hurt/comfort; hurt/comfort; Ron Weasley is a Good Friend

*complete*

Closing In by silver_fish

Plot: Harry supposes he’ll never know how they learned about the cupboard under the stairs. He also supposes he’ll never know how they managed to make him so afraid of it, all these years later.

Characters: Harry, Hermione, Ron

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, claustrophobia, implied/referenced torture, codependency, trauma, panic attacks, PTSD, therapy

Tags: post-war; hurt/comfort; touch-starved; guilt; Harry centric; false memories

My Notes: This one made me emotionally exhausted but it’s written super well

*complete*

Adjustments by Velvet_Riptide

Plot: With the Second Wizarding War over, Sirius is more than excited to put everything behind him and raise Harry as his own. However, he and Remus begin to notice odd and troubling behaviors from Harry. Without answers from the source, Sirius turns to Harry's previous guardians--Molly and Arthur Weasley--and learns Harry is still making adjustments from his time with the Dursley's.

Characters: Harry, Sirius, Remus, Molly, Arthur, Hermione, Ron

Relationships: Sirius/Remus; Hermione/Ron; Remus & Harry; Sirius & Harry

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; childhood trauma; PTSD

Tags: hurt/comfort; coparenting; Harry lived in the Burrow for several years with the Weasleys before moving to 12 Grimmauld Place;

*complete*

Two Things by TheDivineComedian

Plot: Harry is only four years old and the Dursleys are already mean.

Characters: Harry, Petunia, Vernon, Dudley, imaginary Lily, imaginary James

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

*complete*

How to be happy by TheDivineComedian

Plot: The Patronus charm requires a happy memory. Harry Potter doesn't have many, and the Dementors get Sirius, after all. But the story is far from over.

Characters: Harry, Remus, Sirius, Ron, Hermione

Relationships: Harry & Sirius; Harry & Remus; Remus & Sirius

Warnings: major character death; implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: creepy; heartwarming; dementors; Hogwarts third year

My Notes: this one is a fucking doozy good lord (the tags say heartwarming but w h e r e)

*complete*

Knowledge is a Rose by Magi_Silverwolf

Plot: When Harry discovered that he had a name, he clung to that information and all that it entailed. After learning more information about his past, nothing and everything changed.

Characters: Harry

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; physical abuse; verbal abuse; mental abuse

Tags: emotional hurt; identity issues

*complete*

No Love for the Wicked by VigilanteVampire4311

Plot: Harry Potter was the Boy-Who-Lived. The Golden Boy. The Chosen One. But it turns out when you run head first into an unknown magical artifact and end up in a void, none of that matters. Now he's in a different time with familiar strangers who just can't seem to understand the new transfer student, Harrison Miller. With a Defense teacher he can't let his guard down for a second around, the Marauders hounding the 'mysterious' new Slytherin, and his housemates who cannot fathom a muggleborn being among them, Harry has to wonder whether fate hates him or if he is really a trouble-making freak like the Dursleys always said.

Characters: Harry, James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, Regulus, Snape, Tom Riddle, Pomfrey

Relationships: Harry & James; Harry & Lily; Sirius & Harry; Remus & Harry; Regulus & Harry; Harry & Tom Riddle; Pomfrey & Harry

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence; implied/referenced child abuse; possessive behavior; depression; non-consensual touching

Tags: The Veil; Slytherin Harry; Marauders are kinda assholes; Tom Riddle is not Voldemort yet; Severus is so done; alternate universe; angst; hurt/comfort; bullying; time travel; Marauders Era

My Notes: so far with 7 chapters in, we haven’t yet gotten to Harry interacting with anyone from the past but it’s still written really well

*incomplete* [last updated September 2021]

The snake in the daffodils by SpicyReyes *favorite*

Plot: Harry follows Sirius through the Veil of Death, and stumbles out on the other side of the Mirror of Erised, under a strange spell and stranded in an unfamiliar Hogwarts.

Characters: Harry, Remus, Regulus, Harry, Ron, James, Lily, Sirius

Relationships: Regulus/James; Sirius/Remus; Draco/Harry

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence; discussions of suicide; discussions of self-harm; suicidal ideation; implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: universe jumping; Hogwarts fifth year; misunderstandings; miscommunication; basically everyone thinks harry wants to die but he is actually just hella confused

My Notes: so, so good! And if you like this one I recommend The Devil’s White Knight which is really similar in concept

*incomplete* [last updated 2020]

been waiting a lifetime (to be with you) by justprompts

Plot: The next time he woke, Potter was shaking him awake. Just, just not the right one. He had hazel eyes for one, and class. This was not Harry Potter. This was - Well, he had just woken up and who accepts the delightfully altering time-related facts of life right as they wake up?

Characters: Harry, Dumbledore; Peter Pettigrew; Prewett Twins; Marlene McKinnon; Sirius; Remus; Lily; James; Draco; Alice & Frank Longbottom; Regulus; Draco

Relationships: Draco/Harry; James/Lily; Sirius/Remus; Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadows; Alice/Frank Longbottom; Regulus & Sirius; Regulus & Draco

Tags: time travel fix-it; Marauders Era; Horcrux hunting; everyone lives/nobody dies; master of death Harry; light-hearted; POV multiple; Harry doesn’t need to be dark/evil to be master of death; irregular and slow updates; mutual pining

*incomplete* [last updated May 2021]

The Gospel Truth by twentysevensummers

Plot: When Harry arrives at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place with a black eye, he has more trouble than expected keeping the truth from Sirius.

Characters: Harry, Sirius, Remus

Relationships: Sirius & Harry

Warnings: referenced/implied child abuse; child neglect

Tags: book 5; hurt/comfort; angst; Harry needs a hug; good godparent Sirius Black; number 12 grimmauld place

*complete*

o children, lift up your voice by orphan_account

Plot: "i don't know if they could've put a flap in the door of the cupboard, now that i think about it," harry laughs nervously. "dunno if it would've fit onto it. since it's smaller than the bedroom door." hermione and ron's heads both shoot up. "what?" ron asks. "excuse me?" hermione says.

Characters: Harry, Ron, Hermione

Relationships: Hermione & Harry & Ron

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: friendship; slight canon divergence; character study; second war with Voldemort; physical affection; lots of hugs

My Notes: this one is so good and if you can get past the fact that the author doesn’t capitalize anything, you’re good to go (although it was difficult to get past that at first for myself)

*complete*

Muggle Management by LadyWinterlight, NerdyKat

Plot: What happens if Hermione notices signs of abuse in Harry during first year? The Wizarding World may not have laws against it, but the Muggle World certainly does...

Characters: Harry, Hermione, Mrs Granger, Mr. Granger

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: family

*complete*

Harry Potter & Other Fandoms

Masked Men and Where to Find Them by tinyrose65

Fandoms: Harry Potter & Daredevil & MCU

Plot: Harry Potter moved to Hell's Kitchen because she wanted a fresh start: time away from the spotlight, where she could focus on being the best Healer she could be. Trust the unconscious man in her dumpster to go and complicate things.

Characters: Harry, Matt Murdock

Relationships: Harry/Matt; past Harry/Draco

Warnings: past domestic abuse; implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: female!Harry

My Notes: this is the first in a series and the second one is also incomplete but they’re both very good and the second one has Jessica Jones!

*incomplete* [last updated 2016]

Magic and Masks by Akoia

Fandoms: Harry Potter & DC Comics

Plot: Harry Potter is anything but normal, thank you very much, he just didn't hold such nonsense as that. Follow him on his adventures through the Wizarding world and muggle world as he struggles to understand who he is, and fight the destiny that's been chosen for him.

Characters: Harry; Dick Grayson; Jason Todd; Bruce Wayne; Alfred Pennyworth; the Dursleys

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; canon typical violence

Tags: fluff and angst

My Notes: this is a series with six parts!

*incomplete* [last updated 2020]

Modern Family

Breaking & Entering: (The Start Of) A Love Story by dollsome

Plot: "Oh my God," Mitchell says, "this is insane." It is, for the record. It is actually ... insane.

Characters: Mitchell, Cameron

Relationships: Mitchell Pritchett/Cameron Tucker

Warnings: none

Tags: none

*completed*

[lucys-key]

Unexpected Encounters (Eren Yeager x Reader)

Part 1: Long Time, No See

An unexpected encounter one night reunites you with someone you haven't seen in a long time, but have also never quite forgotten about. (College/Modern AU).

Rating: Mature for now, but will probably change to explicit. (18+ only)

Warnings: Some cursing in this part, but otherwise no warnings. Let me know if you find anything else I should tag, though!

A/N: This is kinda something I’ve been writing for fun, haha, so I hope you enjoy!

...

It was the summer before your first year of college.

A summer that was a whirlwind of planning, buying everything you could think of that you might need, and saying goodbye to old friends.

You were equal parts nervous and excited. You were looking forward to getting away from the people at your high school, four years having been quite enough time with all of them, but you were also sad to be leaving the friends you had made. Anxiety about leaving home for the first time was also beginning to creep up as you got closer to move-in day. Needless to say, it was a stressful time.

You took a deep breath as you looked around your room. There was still so much that needed to be done, but it was such a nice day outside. You couldn’t bring yourself to focus on getting your shit together for school when you were missing out on your last summer before your first stage of adulthood.

Instead of packing, you walked over to the desk in your room where your phone was sitting and called your best friend Sasha. It was unfortunate, but you and Sasha had completely different interests when it came to academics, so when it was time to choose a college, you both ended up choosing rather different schools. Coming to terms with the fact that Sasha was not going to be there for you in-person everyday was perhaps one of the most difficult things about preparing to go off to college.

The line rang three times before Sasha picked up, her muffled greeting indicating that she was snacking on something, as per usual.

“What’s up?” she asked after swallowing her food. “Finished packing?”

You sighed and looked around your room which was a mess of boxes and clothes strewn around the floor that you were trying to decide whether or not to take with you.

“Nope. I’m procrastinating,” you said almost proudly. “This summer has gone by way too fast. I really thought I’d have more time to do everything.”

“Ugh, same,” Sasha groaned as she took another bite of whatever it was she was snacking on. “I take back what I said about wanting to further my education.”

You laughed and said, “I think it’s too late for that. Besides, don’t all freshmen get the unlimited meal plan at your school?”

Sasha squealed and you could feel her joy through the phone.

“YES!” she exclaimed. “And there are four dining halls to choose from. FOUR!”

“I’m happy for you and your culinary college journey,” you replied, feeling like you were really going to miss having your best friend around.

You heard a noise in the background that sounded like Sasha’s father, and sure enough, a second later Sasha said, “I’m happy for me, too, but hey, I gotta go. Fam requires my assistance.”

You nodded even though she couldn’t see you through the phone. “Go assist. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Alrighty, love you,” Sasha said and then hung up.

As you put your phone back down on the desk, you couldn’t help but feel a little sad. You only had a week before it was time to drive for four hours to your new home, and you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You still didn’t want to pack, and Sasha was busy so hanging out with her was also not an option.

Eventually, you sighed and stood up to face the inevitable: you had to pack, or at least organize your things. Before getting started, you walked over to the window next to your bed and looked outside. The sun was beginning to set, and it was still such a nice day. You pulled the window open to let in the warm summer breeze, and you heard the pleasant rustling of the leaves on the tree outside of your room.

After a few hours of packing, dinner, and watching Netflix, the sun had set completely, and you felt exhausted. You went to your dresser to put on an old, oversized t-shirt before going to the bathroom to complete your nighttime routine.

Once you were finished, you got into bed, pulled the covers over you, and soon enough you were fast asleep.

___

A loud noise.

You stirred in your sleep, not quite waking.

But then you heard another noise, and you sat up and opened your eyes, blinking them a few times to try and process your surroundings better. You looked around your room and didn’t see anything.

You felt a breeze and then realized that you had forgotten to close the window before going to bed. Deciding that the noise had been something from outside, you pushed your bed covers off of yourself to get up and close the window.

Only, as soon as your feet hit the ground and you took a step forward, you tripped over something on the floor and landed right on top of it. You groaned in pain, but before you could look to see what it was you had tripped on, an unfamiliar voice resonated throughout your bedroom.

“Ow, Jean. What the fuck?!”

You immediately froze. That was a person who just spoke. There was a person in your bedroom. A person you didn’t know, at least not by their voice.

After a few seconds, you got yourself together and quickly scrambled away from whoever it was lying on your bedroom floor. You stood up so you were looking down at them.

“Who are you?” you demanded, trying to keep the terrified edge out of your voice. Your eyes still hadn’t adjusted to the dark room so you couldn’t get a good look at their face.

The person moved, presumably to sit up, and then there was a pause.

“What do you mean ‘who am I?’ Who are you?” the stranger demanded back.

You scoffed. “This is my room dumbass. Get out. Now.”

Whoever it was in your room made a noise of confusion, and you walked around your bed to turn on the lamp. It filled your room with a soft light.

When you walked back around to the other side of your bed, the stranger had stood up, but their back was turned to you. All you could see was brown hair tied into a loose, messy bun.

“This isn’t Jean’s room,” they remarked and then whipped around to face you.

“Hey, where the fuck am I?”

You stood still as you finally got a look at the stranger’s face. Although it had been a long time, you’d recognize those bright green eyes anywhere.

“Eren?” you asked in astonishment.

Eren’s eyes widened slightly, and you were more than a little surprised when he said your name in return. You were sure after six years he would’ve forgotten it— forgotten you. You had been nothing more than classmates, after all.

Eren stood for a few seconds, but then his face broke out into a grin.

“Damn. It’s been a long time,” he said your name again, and as he continued to look at you, you were suddenly reminded of how you must have looked. You had only worn an oversized shirt to bed. Thankfully, it covered the upper half of your thighs, but you still felt yourself wishing you had more clothes on, as Eren was completely dressed in black sweats, a grey t-shirt, and sneakers.

As you looked at his face, you couldn’t help but recognize how much he had changed over the last few years. You met him when you were just twelve years old and in junior high. His child-like features had disappeared completely, and he was nothing like the boy you remembered.

For starters, Eren had grown— a lot. His voice was deeper, which was why you weren’t able to recognize it earlier. His facial features were also much more defined, his cheekbones and jawline now standing out. And perhaps the most remarkable thing about Eren’s appearance was the fact that he had chosen to grow his hair out. Your memories of Eren were of a boy with short brown hair and green eyes, though those were still the same, running around as he played with his friends at school.

You only let yourself look at him for a few more seconds before addressing the issue that had woken you in the first place.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, still so very confused about how he managed to make it into your bedroom of all places.

Eren rubbed a hand on the back of his neck looking slightly embarrassed.

“Oh, right,” Eren said and laughed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you or anything. I think I must’ve gotten the address confused.”

You almost wanted to roll your eyes in exasperation. What did that even mean? And what was he doing climbing into people’s rooms?

Eren must’ve seen your confusion so he continued his explanation.

“You know Jean, right?” he asked.

Oh yeah, you remembered. He had mentioned his name earlier. It just so happened that after Eren moved away during your second year of junior high—something to do with his dad’s job as a doctor, if you remembered correctly—Jean’s family also moved just across town to your street. You weren’t great friends with him, but you two had gone to the same high school. You also remembered that Eren and Jean used to be close friends before Eren moved away.

“This is my first time back here in a while,” Eren said. “Jean texted me his new address, but I’ve only been here like a day, and clearly haven’t figured everything out.”

Things were starting to make more sense to you, and Eren must have seen you relax slightly because he smiled.

“I don’t normally climb into people’s rooms, by the way,” Eren said, and took his phone out of his pocket to look again at the last text Jean had sent him. “Jean said I’d wake his parents if I went in the front door, so I should use the window since his room is close to the ground.”

Eren frowned and looked behind him at your own window which was still open. “Probably should’ve realized something was wrong when I had to climb a whole ass tree. That was exhausting.”

Despite everything, you found yourself laughing. You couldn’t believe that Eren had climbed all the way up a tree only to end up in your room. You bet he was just as confused as you were when he heard your voice instead of Jean’s.

You walked over to your dresser to take out a pair of shorts to cover yourself, and Eren turned away as you carefully put them on under your shirt.

“Why are you going to Jean’s at…” you started to ask, walking over to your desk to pick up your phone to check the time, “1:30 in the morning?”  

Eren, still standing in the middle of your room, raised his eyebrows and grinned.

“Curious, are we?” he joked, and you felt heat rush to your face.

“Not really,” you managed to say, moving away from your desk to sit on your bed. “Just thought I should know why I was woken up by you at such an hour.”

“Fair enough,” Eren replied.

Since you were sitting on your bed, he moved to lean against your desk which was across from you.

“I’m staying with Armin,” Eren continued, “but Jean and I were planning to see some people tonight before everyone leaves for school in the next few days.”

After junior high, Armin transferred to a private high school, but he still lived in the area. You guessed he and Eren had managed to stay best friends even after Eren moved.

“I see. That sounds fun,” you said, but then added, “Although, I’m not sure why your friends like to hang out so late.”

Eren laughed, showing his perfect teeth. “I take it you’re not a night person, then?”

You looked down, feeling suddenly embarrassed.

“Just not tonight,” you replied.

Eren nodded in understanding. He looked at you for a few moments, and you suddenly felt awkward. He was still standing, and you thought you should invite him to sit or something. Was that weird?

You quickly decided that it wasn’t really weird, and you gestured to the desk chair and said, “You can sit if you want.”

Eren looked at the chair, seeming like he hadn’t even realized it was there.

“Oh, sure,” he said, but seemed conflicted. “Only if you want, though,” he continued. “I know I kind of barged in here, and I don’t want to invade your space or keep you up or anything.”

His politeness made you smile, and you found that you didn’t mind his presence in the least.

“No, it’s fine,” you replied.

Eren smiled too and moved to sit on the chair, his front pressed against the back of it so you could still see his face. Eren rested his arms on the top of the back of the chair and leaned forward.

“So how have you been?” he asked, your name leaving his mouth at the end of the question.

Six years was a long time to recap, so you just said, “Pretty good, although I have been stressed lately, as you can see.” You gestured to the many boxes sitting around the floor of your room.

Eren laughed and nodded.

“Yeah, my room looks similar. I needed to get away, and this seemed like a good escape, but I still have so much shit to do when I get back home,” he sighed.

“How long are you here for?” you asked, trying to keep your tone disinterested.

“Just until tomorrow,” he replied.

You were about to say something, but then Eren’s phone began to ring. He muttered “Sorry,” as he took the phone out of his pocket.

Eren turned his head to face the ground as he answered the phone, trying his best to keep his voice down.

“What do you want, horseface?” you heard him say as a greeting. You almost snorted as you realized horseface had to be Jean.

While Eren was talking, you took out your own phone and began to scroll through it mindlessly, not wanting to seem like you were eavesdropping on his conversation. You almost texted Sasha about what was happening, but then decided to wait.

After about a minute or so, Eren hung up the phone. You turned off your phone and looked up to see an apologetic expression on his face.

“Sorry, but I think I have to go,” Eren said, and he almost looked disappointed.

You also felt slightly disappointed but didn’t want to keep Eren from seeing his friends.

“Okay,” you said, and then looked over to your window. Was he planning to climb back out of it?

Eren followed your gaze and seemed to read your thoughts.

“Uh, would it be alright if I used your front door this time?” he asked, laughing shyly.

“Yeah, of course,” you said, feeling stupid. Of course he didn’t want to climb down a tree.

“Thanks,” Eren replied, obviously grateful, and he stood up from the chair.

You got off of your bed and walked towards your bedroom door. Before you opened it, you turned to Eren and said, “We have to be quiet, though. I don’t want to wake anyone.”

He smiled and nodded in understanding.

“Got it,” he whispered.

You turned the handle of your door slowly and pushed it open. With Eren close behind, you led him through the dark hallway to the stairs.

Unfortunately, your stairs were old and fairly steep, so navigating them in the dark would prove to be fairly difficult. You both made it about half-way down without a sound, but then you put your foot in front of you and accidentally missed the next step.

You felt yourself slipping, but then an arm from behind you wrapped around your waist before you could fall.

“Careful,” Eren warned.

“Thanks,” you said, and found yourself laughing at your clumsiness. In response, Eren laughed too. He still had his arm around you, and he was so close that you could hear the sound right next to your ear.

You breathed in deep as you were also able to take in his scent. He smelled like the outside, like smoke and the tree he had climbed, but there was also something sweet, like vanilla.

You heard Eren whisper your name from behind you and snapped out of your trance.

“Sorry,” you said, and then Eren moved his arm back to his side as you continued to walk down the stairs, paying extra attention to where you placed your feet.

After you successfully made it down without another incident, you walked to your front door and pulled it open. You felt the warm summer air rush over your body as you walked outside with Eren. You shut the door behind you so you could say goodbye without anyone in your house hearing.

You and Eren stood awkwardly for a moment, neither of you knowing how to say goodbye. What were you supposed to say? Everything you came up with in your head sounded embarrassing.

But then Eren smiled and laughed nervously, and you felt the tension disappear as it became clear that you and Eren both felt awkward.

You smiled back at him and asked, “Do you know where you’re going?”

Eren put his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and nodded. “Yep. Looks like I had gotten the last number of the address wrong.”

You made a sound of understanding and were about to say something like goodbye, but then Eren’s voice cut you off before you could say anything.

“Hey,” he said, “it was really nice to see you.”

You couldn’t really believe the situation you were in. You had thought for sure that you would never see Eren again after he moved, yet here he was, standing outside of your house.

“Yeah, you too,” you said, and watched as the wind moved loose pieces of Eren’s hair around his face.

He smiled at you one last time before turning to walk down the pathway leading from your house to the sidewalk.

Before he got too far, he turned around and yelled, “Lock your window from now on!”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you.

“I will!” you yelled back and waved at him.

Eren waved too, and then you watched him walk down the street for a few moments before going back inside your house.

After shutting your front dooor as quietly as you could, you walked back up to your room and took a deep breath. What were you supposed to do now?

You couldn’t get Eren out of your mind, still in disbelief that he had just been in your room. You had way too much energy to get back into bed. You looked around at the clothes on your floor and decided that it would be the perfect time to organize your things.

There was a sweater by your door with the name of your college on it. You picked it up and pulled it over your head before getting started.

Little did you know that in a few weeks, your life was going to become more intertwined with Eren’s than you could have ever imagined.

Read part 2 here

[rpmemes-galore]

a few people wanted to know the story, so enjoy.  fair warning, its a long, rough read, with a buncha triggers possible throughout.   but hey, hey, enjoy, i guess?  will probs end up deleting this later today and gonna work on memes.  hope y’all are doing okay, take care. 

My relationship with my older brother has always been really... rocky. Without going into too much potentially triggering detail, he hurt me a lot when I was younger, so there's a lot of fear surrounding him. Saying that now as the reason for why I could never stand up to him for this.

A few years ago, my family decided that someone should move into our late grandparents home to look after the place, and I immediately volunteered. I loved that home, that farm. There were a ton of good memories there, and I was so excited when my family agreed. But, then my health took a downward turn and it was decided I couldn't live alone due to safety reasons. Enter, my older brother. He was in his late twenties at the time, and parents wanted him to finally move out, so they said he was going to come live with me there to keep an eye on me in case something happened. I wasn't happy about it, but he was the only one who could, and the only way I'd get to live at my late grandparent's place, so I agreed to it.

Right from the start, things were not great. He didn't help unbox anything except for his own belongings... No kitchen stuff, no bathroom stuff, just his clothes and computer. As it was just me doing it, and with my fragile health at the time, it was taking me a long while to get it all done. And that's when my aunt thought it was a great idea to start doing weekly visits, i.e. inspections of the place. She got pissed when she saw things still boxed up after a week of being there, but told me she was willing to look past it if it got put away soon.

I busted my butt getting everything put away, then. But I was contending with other issues at that point. He'd started messing up the house. I would wake up to find garbage and crumbs across the kitchen counters and table, dirty dishes dropped wherever he was closest to, and his dirty laundry dropped on the living room floor. His room started getting bad, as well. From about a month of being there, it started to stink. I went in a few times and there would be dishes with rotting food on his dresser. The floor was covered in a layer of food wrappers and other garbage. Dirty laundry was thrown everywhere. His game discs, which we'll come back to later, would be laying unprotected on the floor.

It just got worse from there. At the start, he'd tidy up a little bit after himself. If I asked politely enough, he'd throw garbage away or bring his dishes out of the room... only if I asked him. Three months in. That changed. He started getting snippy at me, slamming and locking his door if I asked him to do anything around the house. His messes were getting worse, and it was just me trying to play catch-up everyday. It got to the point my morning routine was wake up, head out to the kitchen while picking up any dirty laundry / garbage on the way, gather up dirty dishes from around the room and put them on the counter to wash, wash a few of them just to get a headstart, wipe crumbs off all counters and table, wash the rest of the dishes (I still don't understand how he could use so many in a single night), sweep floors if the crumb situation was bad enough. All this before I'd allow myself to have anything to eat or drink, due to sheer panic of my aunt stopping by unannounced again and seeing the place in this state.

My brother was working a very part time job at the time and, as soon as he left for his shift, I would pounce on his room. I'd haul out armfuls (plural) of dirty dishes which I'd then hurry to wash, I'd carry out at least one full, heavy duty garbage bag of trash. I would try to make his bed after brushing off the crumbs. All this in the few hours I had before he'd get back home. And he would always get incredibly pissed at me for it, which I understand. I know it was an invasion of privacy and, if not for the aunt, I wouldn't have done it... But the state of his room was going to get us both evicted, so I felt justified doing it.

It went on this way for a year and half. During that time, he made me bring his game discs in to get them fixed, had me pay for them, and never paid me back. I wound up in the emergency room on three separate occasions, all due to working myself to the point of over-exhaustion and aggravating already pre-existing health problems. Once, when I was away for a few days, he'd turned my room into a storage room. Ie, he threw all his laundry and belongings on my bedroom floor because he didn't want to deal with them. I wound up having to sort through it and pick it all up. He moved the landline phone into his room, essentially cutting off my contact to the outside world behind a locked door as my cellphone barely had any service there. He took food money from me, against my will, to buy his own... Would eat part of it and let the rest rot in the fridge until I cleaned it out. (important note, I have a lot of dietary restrictions. So it's not like I could just snack on it or share it with him. I just had to deal with him basically stealing my food money, then wasting it on food I couldn't even eat.) He would lock himself in his room anytime the aunt came by, making me have to face her wrath on my own, because I had no lock on my door, and I wasn't allowed to put one on. He would barge into my room uninvited, but get pissed if I went into his. He would expect me to play video games with him and throw a fit if I said no, even after I explained that I had too much cleaning to do and, if he really wanted me to play with him, he would have to lend a hand so it would be done quicker and I might have energy to play. He never did. He wouldn't empty out our cat's wet food and would just let it go moldy if I wasn't there for a few days... and would 'forget' to refill her water.

The only jobs he was expected to do around the house were emptying the cat litter for our one cat and vacuuming, both things I physically couldn't do because of severe asthma. And once a week, he was supposed to bring laundry over to our parents place to wash, as we didn't have a washer or dryer. I remember him vacuuming once the whole time we were there. He rarely emptied the cat litter, which meant I would wind up having to do it once in a while and just suffer through a serious asthma attack afterwards. He also rarely brought the laundry over. I wasn't able to drive, so I would wind up having to ask my mom to bring it over with her when she visited. Three jobs. He hardly ever did any of them, but still expected the house to be clean when our aunt stopped by and would be upset if it wasn't. He just didn't want to have a hand in getting it that way.

On the subject of other family, I tried reaching out. My parents would visit on occasion. They both knew how bad it got, they'd seen it at the worst. I'd even called my mom in a full crying panic more than once, when the aunt called in the morning to say she she'd be there in an hour... And the house wasn't clean. Mom had to come over and help me speed clean it, with me working through a full-blown panic attack, scared I wouldn't have it "clean enough" by the time the aunt got there. Mom is also the one who drove me into the ER. She knew how bad it was, but he was her golden child. The "can do no wrong" child, and I was always the problem. She would tell me I was making it out worse than it was, that it wasn't that bad, that it wasn't his fault he was messy, that I should just deal with it and clean up after him. Dad would at least seem sorry for me. He'd tell me he wished my brother would clean up after himself, but that there was nothing he could do. Aunt just didn't want to hear my excuses. She would yell at me for the state of the place, after I'd worked myself half to death cleaning already. She blamed me for it, threatened to kick us out over every tiny thing wrong. Made passive aggressive comments. Took pictures and said she would show them to the rest of our relatives so they'd know how we were destroying the house, ect.

A year and a half of this. I lost a dangerous amount of weight. I hardly slept, hardly ate, anxiety spiked so badly I was having panic attacks at least once a week, especially toward the weekend when I knew the aunt was coming. All of my days were devoted to cleaning up after him. I dropped hobbies just to wash dishes or pick up his garbage. I even pulled an all-nighter just trying to make the house look presentable... After I'd been in the hospital and spent a few days at my parents place recuperating, so you can imagine the state of the house.

Toward the year and a half mark, I met my now husband. When we decided he should come spend the weekend, I was both happy and terrified. I worked myself to the point of passing out to make the place look decent. I asked my brother to help, told him we would be having company, and was met with a slamming door in my face while he went back to his video games. Now husband came up, we had a great time and chose to make it a weekly thing.

It was about a month into that when I went away for the weekend with my then bf. At this point, he kind of knew how bad it could get and just wanted to get me out of there for a few days. He'd even given my brother a piece of his mind for not emptying the cat litter and making me do it, because of my asthma. So brother hated him. Told me to break up with bf for being "rude" to him. Even called my mom to complain about it and it I got chewed out by my mom for "letting" my bf at the time talk to my brother that way. I was beyond sick of brothers bullcrap. I was exhausted. Had been in the ER just recently because of him, again, and needed to get away. Bf took me up to a cabin and we spent the weekend there, had an amazing time. And brought me home. From the second I stepped back into the farmhouse, I wanted to cry. It was an absolute disaster, like the brother had gone out of his way to destroy the place. So much garbage, laundry, dishes, ect. I said goodbye to the bf, who was horrified and reluctant to leave... And I started trying to make a dent in the horror show that was the house. It didn't take long for me to breakdown. When I called the bf that night to make sure he'd gotten home safe, I told him how bad it was. And he invited me to move in with him. I jumped at that chance for more reasons than one.

Brother took immediate issue with this. He threw a fit when I told him. Straight up told me I was being selfish, that I didn't appreciate all he did for me, that how dare I leave, how could I DARE to move in with someone who talked to him that way!! I just packed up a few of my things and went with the bf. Just like that. I was out.

It was three months before I went back to grab a few more of my things. In that time, brother had gotten an eviction notice from our aunt and was having to move back in with the parents. And I don't blame her one bit. Let me paint a picture for you of what I saw when I walked in the house: he'd run out of room for garbage on the counter and table, it was stacked too high, so.. he'd opened the oven, pulled the racks out and was piling garbage up on them, instead. Guess what the only place that didn't have garbage was... The pristine garbage can. The living room floor was covered in his dirty laundry. He had run out of clean dishes and resorted to using Tupperware lids as plates, with the dirty dishes covering the entire counter by the sink or stacked in his room. Speaking of, I caught a glance inside his room. The smell was worst in there. I could tell there was food in there from the time I left... Didn't try to take a step inside, obviously, not that there was a place to step. Keep in mind, this is AFTER the aunt had visited and demanded he cleaned up. She'd seen it this way, blew her top, and he still didn't give a crap. I, on the other hand, panicked. Call it ingrained at this point, but I started frantically cleaning. It was only my bf who stopped me. Had to actually grab my hands and hug me to get me to stop, with me hyperventilating and close to a panic attack. We got my things and got the hell out of there. But not before I noticed my brother seemed upset that I hadn't cleaned up while I was there.

Brother's living back with our parents and has trashed his room there. He's still pissy at me for calling him out on the way he treated me, and thinks I'm still required to be nice to him because mom says I should... and that he did absolutely nothing wrong with the way he behaved. He's also still holding a grudge against my hubby for him having the utter gall to tell him to be an adult and clean up after himself. Mom still denies it was bad (even though she's dealing with it now) or that I have anything residual from that time, despite the fact I told her that I get panicky and shaky when the place I'm living, now, gets even slightly untidy.

For me, I'm happier than I've ever been. I'm essentially no contact with my brother and limited contact with my mom. Just got married. Living with someone who loves me and actually helps with housework, even without being asked! Still dealing with the trauma of living in a place that felt THAT stressful and unsafe, but working on it. Not holding out much hope of brother realizing how entitled he was / is, but eh. He's not worth the time thinking about him.

[theskywaslookingback]

You can’t just say that and Not tell us more about your oc’s 👀

(I started writing the response to this at work and it got uhhh long, sorry. Also I came home and then had to drive back to work to activate a keycard so you know...that's why this took like nine hours to post, sorry. And thank you both for asking!)

*shows up six hours late with Starbucks and a powerpoint presentation*

Welcome! Have a seat! We might be here for a while :3c

So like I guess about six years ago or so I started a pet project that I told my friends about calling it “the novel I’ll never write” which has spiraled out of control and now lives in my mind rent free but also refuses to be written down. (I even made a blog for it @thisisnotanovel and my friends and I call it tinan) It’s changed several times in the last few years as I’ve made plot changes and character changes but the basis remains pretty much the same.

“This Is Not A Novel” is not a novel about Alecsandyr “It’s Alec, asshole” Summers (who a friend once called Alex sand hair dryer and now I can’t stop calling him that in my head) who’s a mid-twenties burn out who lives with his mom, dropped out of college, and has severe anxiety and depression issues. While on a trip with his mom to visit his grandfather up in Alaska, he steals his stepfather’s car and tries to take it for a joyride. He crashes pretty spectacularly, and it’s literal luck that he survives the crash - though, if asked he wouldn’t call it luck, he’d call it a failed suicide attempt like he’s failed everything else in his life. Anyway he gets air lifted to a hospital and is put on life support.

Now, Alec’s mom is a piece of shit and she makes no secret that she hates her son and hates that he still lives with her and doesn’t want him around. She starts asking the doctors when they would know for sure if he’s going to make it and starts making funeral arrangements even before he gets out of surgery. (Syl, you might be saying, this isn’t how hospitals work. And my answer is that it’s my not novel and I get to make up what I want. I’ll do actual research if I decide to write it.) All of this gets the attention of Alec’s nurse, Dante Lebasque.

Dante is an older, sympathetic man (who in my mind version of this not novel as a not movie is Idris Elba) and he decides that if Alec does have to fully go on life support and if Alec’s mother decides to let him go then he’s going to do something about it. Because -and this is where my emo 2007 self comes into full spotlight- Dante is the head of a small vampire coven, so in order to preserve Alec’s life he decides to turn him into a vampire.

So imagine you’ve decided that you’re going to steal a car, okay? And that you’re going to drive that car off the side of a mountain. And there’s pain and then it’s dark...and then you wake up in a coffin. Because that’s how Alec’s shit goes down. He’s laying there, fully dressed in a suit he’s never worn, and somehow he can see? And he’s not breathing? And his heart isn’t beating? And he’s starving?? And of course he’s freaking out because he’s locked in a box of some kind and he has no clue where he is or why and then suddenly there’s shifting sounds and scraping metal and he’s blinking up at a solid black sky and the greenest eyes he’s ever seen and a deep voice saying “Took a bit longer than we thought. Welcome to the legion of the undead, kid.”

And that’s how we meet Richard Davis, like 100 years old but somehow also the most “new and with it” of the group. He is the hipster meme personified. He used to like Starbucks but now he’s really into this one coffee chain you’ve never heard of. He doesn’t listen to music, actually, just Gregorian chanting. His last living breath was probably saying “well, actually.” And he’s Alec’s guardian, the one who teaches him how to like, ya know, be a vampire. Alec calls him Dick.

Also at the graveside is an angel of a woman, wearing a white dress with bright curly red hair. The first thing Alec notices about her is that she’s barefoot. Her name is Erika Chambers and where Richard is blunt and impatient she’s kind and measured. She was turned by a different vampire and left to fend for herself and she killed a lot of people before killing her sire. When Dante found her she was practically feral and just looking to be taken out by a hunter. He helped her understand what was happening to her but let her decide if she wanted to stay. She did, and she’s never left.

Alec hates all of this. It’s a special hell to want to die and not be allowed to. He refuses to believe that Dante turned him for purely selfless reasons.

When Dante has meetings with the governing council, Alec finds a way to spy on him and overhear, which is how he learns that Dante’s coven was about to be absorbed into a larger one because it was too small and he needed more coven members. Alec is furious and tries to leave but Richard stops him and explains that fledglings can’t go anywhere without a guardian. Alec tries to fight Richard and loses.

Alec confronts Dante later and Dante admits that, yes, part of the reason he turned Alec was because he was about to lose his coven, but it was also because he didn't want to see a young life ended so soon blah blah blah.

So during that fight Alec totally forgets about this other part he heard between Dante and the council where they mention some concern about missing vampires from smaller covens that they haven't heard from in a while and Dante mentions that they were loners and they'll likely show up in a few years.

But alas! They have been murdered! By my favorite villain of all time, Ariadne Rosewood, who is a witch using immortal blood to keep herself immortal.

So you have Alec struggling with himself and his feelings of self worth and depression vs his struggle to trust those around him vs the larger villain that wants to kill them all.

And then we have such wonderful characters as: Karazeda Sloan, Erika's girlfriend and a vampire hunter born into the trade that kind of maybe wants to be a vampire herself. Dominic, the leader of the wolf pack that I added as a joke because I made Alec a furry and it infuriated my friends. Carolina Davenport and her girlfriend Ava Lopez with their coven of vampires, Blaise, Ambrose, and Cole.

So yeah!! Horribly long post and now to the actual joke of it:

(H)imbo - Dominic, because he's a big beefy wolfman with no braincells but much love in his heart

Mean Bisexual - Alec, because he's a bitch and I love him so much

Meaner Lesbian - Karazeda, because she's an even bigger bitch and I love her So Much

She/theys - Carolina and Ava

He/theys - Cole and Ambrose

Token Straight - Dante, but he's also ace so he gets a pass

Astrology Bitch - Erika, I bet she keeps everyones birth charts on the wall

Short King - Richard, 5'5" tiny motherfucker and the more he acts like a brat the shorter I make him. He used to be 6'2".

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

[xxkellsvixen19xx]

Merry-Go-Round Colson Baker X Reader

A/N: wrote this fic in 2019 with a different character revised it using Colson of course also changed up original title it was Addicted. Note there is drug use, overdose and death involved so this could be triggering for some. Might want to have tissues handy cause it's sad folks!

Warnings: drug use, overdose, death & smut 

Word Count: 3,248

𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐲’𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐲 

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲, 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲, 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐠𝐨 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 

𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 

𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐠𝐨 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝...

Y/N looked on in mute horror. Horror was something she had not felt before in her life. There he was, almost catatonic, a look of aloof disinterest on his otherwise flawless and beautiful face. In his left hand a small bottle was loosely clutched, open, contents scattered upon the ground below. His hair was dishevelled, his upper body unclothed, a trail of saliva dripping from his slightly-parted mouth onto his chest. His unblinking gaze stared at something beyond focus, something only he was seeing.

What what happened? She asked in a cautious whisper. She gently plucked the small bottle out of his hand, realising he had overdosed. Purposely overdosed. What could have happened to drive Colson  to such reckless, illogical behaviour? What drove this normally calm and deliberate person to such an abrupt, impromptu act? What demanded such drastic and permanent release?

It was too late. She knew it was too late. Not knowing what to do for such circumstances normally, Y/N only looked on helplessly, slowly crouching down by his side. She tentatively reached out and touched his bare shoulder.

Cold  both her fingertips and his skin. The two of them were both abnormally cool-blooded, he had penetrating and yet distant blue eyes,  tattooed skin and fine features. And yet he was colder than was normal for the two of them.He gave her no response, didn’t register her presence. 

Taking a firmer grip, she shook him gently, knowing he wouldn’t respond. He lost the balance from his precarious position, haphazardly propped against a fallen chair. His right arm, previously draped across a side of the chair, smacked the ground with a sickeningly final thud. She caught his head against her chest, his head lolling down and to the side as if he wanted to suck on her breast. He was heavier than she remembered. She couldn’t think of why this could be.

She cradled him, rocking back and forth slightly. A tightness grew in her stomach and throat, a cold shiver ran down her spine. Her breath was suddenly shaky and her mouth grew dry. A tear froze as it formed at the corner of her eye, falling and shattering upon impacting against the colder-still floor. “Colson… please please wake up,” she stated desperately.

She closed her mind thinking back to the first time they had met, both of them were junkies it seemed to be one of the few things that kept them together asides from the sex. They may have had a toxic relationship but like a moth to a flame she was drawn to him and she kept coming back for more.

2 years ago...

‘I need it so badly, and I need to see him, be near him.’

I want to find another dealer, but I can't bring myself to look. I just keep coming back.

I love him. I don't know if he knows it, but I do. With all of my heart.

I took my first fix to impress him. I don'tt care that I’m an addict; it gives me an excuse to see him.

And I do see him. Almost every day.

I let myself fall into the delusion that he loved me too, at first. When we met, in a bar, he gave me some crack. I liked it, of course, and he told me where I could see him and get more.

At first he just scared me, but gradually I started to look forward to going to see him to see him, as well as to get my fix.

I was a virgin. One night I gave that to him, and it was the best thing that ever happened to me. But when I woke up the next morning, he handed me about three weeks worth and told me I’d earned it all. I slapped him, but he just laughed and said he’d see me soon.

I held off the stuff for about a week, and then I couldn't do it anymore. It was even better than it had been the first time around.

When I ran out I went back to him, same as I always had before, with my money in my backpack.

He smirked, and told me I didn't need to give him any money, looking my body over knowingly. I was so tempted to do it. “Are you brave Y/N?” He asked me not taking his eyes off of mine. I looked at him nervously “why do you ask?” My stomach was tied in knots an excited feeling rushed through my veins.

“You want some of this?" He held up the small baggie to my eyes, which contained a fairly sized black hunk of something. I didn't have to ask him to know what it was.He had the sexiest face when he was offering you drugs, a straight, poker face, with a little smirk that just screamed "Come on, you know you want to,". I chewed at my bottom lip contemplating it for a moment. "Come on, it's the greatest feeling ever. I'll shoot it for you and everything, I guarantee you won't be able to move for the next hour, I swear. It's the best, no lie." Colson urged me. 

I hesitated slightly, my heart thundering against my ribs. Everything in my brain was screaming 'NO! You idiot! Remember health class?' "Awh hell, off to the races!" I said, laughing, and instantly feeling a rush of anxiety. Colson laughed, "Yeah, you want this," and then he pulled out a spoon from his pocket, breaking off a chunk of the black tar heroin and setting it in the spoon to melt it down. He was always so cocky, but it suited his personality.

My stomach was starting to feel funny from all the adrenaline pumping though my body as he patiently turned the black mass into a liquid; I hadn't felt this antsy since the last time we were tweaking out on shards. I couldn't believe I was about to do this; one hit and I could be addicted.

𝙎𝙤 𝙞𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙤 𝙞𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙢𝙚 

𝙉𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙖 𝙨𝙞𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙤𝙣 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙩 

𝙉𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙩 𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙤𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙤𝙮 𝙬𝙚𝙩 𝙞𝙩

Before I knew it, Colson had taken a hold of my left wrist and was holding my arm out straight, tapping against the main vein in my elbow until it was raised and throbbing.

"You're gonna want to look away for this," he said, as he held up a small syringe he'd filled with the drug. "This is gonna be like nothing you've ever felt before."

I smiled, and said "Hell yes," before I looked up into his eyes. He met my gaze, his blue eyes distracting me from where the needle was going. I felt the pinch, and winced slightly.

“You're ok, you will be ok Y/N," he said, he smiled, still staring into my eyes. "Eyes right here."

𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝, 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐬 “𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲?” 

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐬 “𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲?!”

I stared back, smiled, and felt the needle being withdrawn from my arm. I exhaled slowly, wondering when it was supposed to take effect--

The rush of euphoria you get from shooting up heroin is unlike anything else. You could be going through horrible withdrawals, but after you see that red cloud of blood erupt in the syringe, you’ll feel like you're on top of the world in seconds. You feel weightless, and warm, and safe. 

“How you feeling Y/N?" Colson asked, getting down to my level to look me in the eye, his smirk setting my nerve endings on fire. ‘fuck why is it that his smirk damn near destroys me?’ I thought to myself. I tried to speak, but my mouth wasn't working with my brain...or, my brain wasn't working with my mouth. Actually, I don't think my brain was working at this point at all, it was all just too slow. Even my tongue felt heavy.

It seemed like a long time passed, I heard Colson opening up the small baggie once again, heard the lighter click to life, closed my eyes and felt my breathing, watching the colors dance past my eyes as I heard him hiss from the needle, heard the THUMP as he hit the floor.

A few moments had passed then I saw Colson get up from the floor, and plop down onto the end of the bed, smiling and looking down at me. I looked back up at him, and in my mind a vague feeling was starting to swim around, to spark to roaring life amidst the haze that I was feeling everywhere else.

“You feelin' good?" He asked, tilting his head and grinning at me in the way he always did after witnessing me getting fucked up in some way or another. A grin that said, 'Now that's what I'm talking about', before always asking the same question; You feeling good?

I tried to wrap my mind around how I was feeling, to grasp at how hot it was starting to feel between my legs, how when I arched my back upward I wanted something to be there, to be in the space between my legs, in the heat and the wet, to fill me up, make me moan.

And without really meaning to, I did moan. I let out a low, hungry growl, closing my eyes and allowing my head to fall backward. 

Colson chuckled, a low, almost animalistic sound. “Y/N...you want to fuck don't you?" I didn't respond, merely laid there, eyes still closed, feeling my head fall to the side, my nose against my right bicep. It was so hot, I could hear myself panting, feel it in my breasts as they rose and fell with my breath.

"Yeeeeeaaaaahh, you wanna fuck," I heard Colson say, his words long and drawn out. "You're so horny right now it's driving you out of your Goddamn mind, isn't it?"

I heard myself moan again, still unable to think my way out of the warm cloud that had settled over my body. All I knew was that I wanted a dick, a hard, long, thick dick, shoved into my pussy, and I wanted it now. I gave a small growl of frustration, arching my back upward again.

Colson takes hold of my wrist all of a sudden, forcing me to still. Then he lowers my arm, meeting my stare in the dimness of lamplight shining from a table. “You look like you have somethin’ you wanna say, Miss Y/N.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “Do I?” “Yeah. Do you?” “I – I.” I was unable to formulate a complete sentence. God he’s beautiful. I’m mesmerized. Enthralled. Captivated. Whatever this emotion of want is.

His blonde hair dusts across his forehead. Glazed in a sheen of sweat.“Oh…” I’m at a loss for words, so awestruck. He begins undressing himself,His hands are on his belt, undoing the buckle. His trousers sag some, slipping down his waist.I close the distance between us, pushing aside his trembling hands to use mine. I undo his belt then unfasten the button of his trousers, letting them fall around his ankles. 

Colson looks at me he holds my face in his big, calloused hands. “You can’t be real.” “No?” “No. You have to just be some illusion I’ve thought of. You’ll disappear soon.” “I don’t think I’m leaving, Colson,” I confess, voice breathless. His touch is like fire, letting me feel that more than I desire.

I flush with heat, taking in the truth that he’s naked now. Naked. In front of me.“You wanna join, darlin’?” “J – Join?” He gently traces his fingertips across my arm I can't help but shiver “yeah you look cold  guess even angels need warmth, huh?” he narrowed his gaze on me, he stretches out an arm to grab my wrist. He pulls me into him, sitting up to hold me in his strong arms. Heat blooms all over my skin as he embraces me from behind, sensations I had thought I lost or maybe never realized I had. 

He makes it seem like I have nothing to be afraid of. Nothing to do but relent, to surrender and release the tension I’ve been holding in. His breath warms my ear, tousling strands of hair. He moves closer, pinning me to the wall. I hold in all the breath I can as his scent overwhelms me, musk and oil and smoke. He has one arm over my head, bracing his position over me. His other hand rests near my abdomen, hovering over his shirt that I have on. His blue gaze doesn’t leave mine. “Can I touch you?” I blink, dark lashes fanning out tears. “I – I’ve never been touched like this.” “Never?” “No.” 'sure we had had sex before but this moment seemed different electrified. This was the first time he even really touched me at least like this… so soft, so sensual. 

“You – You don’t have to.” I managed to stutter out awkwardly. “I can. You look like you want me to. You have for a while. It doesn’t have to be more than this, and I don’t mind doin’ it for you.” His touch is like fire, as before. That tingling that I hunger for. The licks of heat over my skin sets my nerve endings on fire. His rough fingers slither over my slit, forcing me to let out a muffled noise as I shudder. “Want me to stop?” “No. No. More… do more.” 

He pushes closer, leaving no space amid us. His teeth sink into my throat, biting sensitive areas I didn’t know I wanted to be bitten. I arch my back, bending a little as he presses a knee between my thighs.He rubs, for a few minutes. Stroking. Caressing.He nibbles my neck, the muscle that runs down to my shoulder. His shirt falls off of me some, slipping off the shoulder his mouth is on. I rest my palms on his tatooed chest, nails scratching over his skin. He hisses then sucks beneath my ear, licking his tongue back and forth. “Oh, Colson,” I moan my breath becoming more rapid making me almost dizzy. 

He parts me with his fingers, rubbing the warm slick that’s dripping out of me. “God, Y/N. You moan like an angel.” He pushes one thick digit into me, then another. Stretching me, he thrusts in and out at a slow pace. I fall into a haze of bliss, drowned in the blazing sensations that wash over me. I move my hips in time with his hand, finding a tempo with him. A blinding crescendo rises and rises. Hotter. Brighter. ”I’m so close, so close –”  Then the flat of his thumb circles over my clit and I scream, coming undone.

This was an all new heightened sensation, and throughout our relationship it seemed the more we experimented with different drugs the more the sexual connection we had seemed to get more and more intense. Hell we were just as addicted to the sex as much as the drugs. To be honest I think we tried just about everything, Crystal meth, shrooms, coke, mollies you name it then most likely we had tried it. But it seemed like nothing was enough, another fix needed to keep the euphoric rush going. Each time more and more it seemed like he needed, like a junkie he couldn't seem to get enough. But it seemed heroin was always his vice, his ultimate fix of choice. 

Being on heroin is akin to being in a toxic relationship. You start off knowing you're playing with fire, but you tell yourself it’ll be casual and you have more will power than to let yourself fall into addiction. Unfortunately, the pull of heroin is stronger than you, and by the time you realize you’ve lost control, you already lost it a long time ago. This kind of end was not for the likes of him. In one long continuous movement she eased him to the ground, laying him on his back and lovingly straddled him. She had one hand pressed against his cold chest, the other gripping the handle of the blade. Her hand wavered a little as it hovered above his chest. She glanced away, eyes a little misted by tears that were unaccustomed to forming, and thus shy of coming out.

Die by the blade, she whispered barely audibly. He never was much of a fighter she was the warrior of unparalleled potential of the two of them and yet she believed, she knew, that he wouldn't want it any other way either.

With one efficient movement, she plunged the blade neatly into his heart. She opened her eyes with a start, sharply glancing down at him as she felt a tensing beneath her and the slightest of hitched gasps. His eyes, free of the madness, clear of the haze, looked back at her with such a whirlpool of emotions and questions she nearly choked on a gasp of her own. She felt a new horror. A new kind of chill. She couldn't find her voice, and wouldn't have known what to say anyway. She looked back into his eyes, silently pleading.

“Colson Baker?”

Questioning turned to acceptant understanding, forgiveness, and finally to a slightly guilty apology. The corner of his lips twitched into the briefest of smiles, as if trying to reassure her that everything would be fine.

“L-love,you.” 

His eyes glazed over again. This time he wouldn’t be waking up for her again. The crimson trickled over his skin and stained her sleeves and her skirts. Never had she made such a costly error of judgement. 

𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 

𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫

Colson Baker died of an overdose. A plaque in his memory was put up, reading, “There is no substitute” Unfortunately for music fans, as well as the family and friends of the victims, too many singers have died before their time either directly or indirectly because of drug use and abuse. 

Colson Baker

The raspy deep voiced rocker died at the age of 30,  from a heroin overdose.  Born Richard Colson Baker, but known as “Kells” to his friends and family, He is famous for some of the hit singles such as “Bloody Valentine,”My Ex's Bestfriend” “Forget Me Too,”  “Concert For Aliens,” and his personal  favorite, “Jawbreaker.”  In 2020, Rolling Stone magazine ranked him #46 on their list of the 100 Greatest Artists of All Time.

[mourntheantagonist]

Billy Hargrove’s Exploration of Beauty

| part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 |

Part 6: Split Ends

also on ao3

***

It all happened so fast. Like he blinked his eyes and he went from behind an ice cream counter to a hundred feet below ground level. Tied up to a chair in front of his coworker who he had barely even known. Who he was beginning to like. And despite being told after the fact that whole days had passed, his little vacation didn’t feel so long. Having been blacked out and drugged out of his mind for the most of it. It was quick to be over with. Could have almost have been excused as a fever dream.

The events following his escape went by fast too. Coming up to the main floor only to find out that they might have just been safer underground. Hearing news of the mind flayer being back just went in one ear out the other.

Finding out Billy was among the flayed. That stuck. But he hid the fear. Suppressed it. Because they didn’t have the time to dwell on that.

Driving up to Cerebro felt quick. Considering he drove like a bat out of hell, that wasn’t that hard to believe.

Slamming into the side of the Camaro. He had his eyes closed for that one. But it went by fast. It had to. “It’s not Billy” he had chanted in his mind.

Everything was quickly paced. Moving from one thing to another swiftly. Nothing felt like it had dragged on.

Until he was up on that balcony.

And he watched as the mindflayer skewered his boyfriend through the chest. It was all slow motion. Felt like watching a movie that would never end. Watching as it went in and out. Tearing flesh and breaking bone. Collapsing to the floor with a loud thud that echoed throughout the mall. Lying there motionless. Bleeding out onto the disgusting mall tile. Dying. He was dying.

He’d later hear from Robin that when he was up on that balcony she had to hold him back from jumping over the ledge. Kicking and screaming. “I have to get to him!”

Everything following that moment felt like slow motion. Agonizing slow motion.

Driving to the hospital that held Billy. Max in the passenger seat. It was silent. And they must have hit every red light on the way.

The trip up the elevator to the floor he was on. Unbearably slow.

The line they stood in to speak to the front desk. Unbearably long.

The wait until they were ready for them to come back. It felt like forever.

And just as he was ready to pass through the glass doors into the hall of the ICU, there was a hand on his chest. A nurse of about five-foot-five looking to be in her mid-to-late forties had stopped him. “Family members only at this time.” She’d said. He wanted to yell at her. Say he’s the closest thing Billy has to family. But he kept his mouth shut. Bowed his head and ushered Max along, despite her protests.

“Go see your brother, Max. I’ll be okay.”

But he wouldn’t. Steve wouldn’t see Billy for the first time for over a month. The longest month of his life.

Months spent with Billy beginning to fade away in this never ending cycle of being alone. Waking up everyday to an empty bed. Not even being able to make a phone call just to hear his voice. Being without him in every way. Not hearing his laugh or seeing his smile or just feeling his skin against his. He tried to hold on to all of those good memories. But they were slipping away.

It all went downhill when Max had called him from the ICU. It was two in the morning and she was there with Chief Hopper, despite knowing she shouldn’t be. Steve hid his anger around Hopper, trying his best not to hate him. Because he got special privileges and Steve didn’t. It was two in the morning and he was sitting in his living room watching a random movie, curled up in a blanket and hugging a pillow. He hadn’t been sleeping very well. The left side of his bed cold and vacant.

Max didn’t usually call this late. The ringing of the phone startled him and made his heart race. Because something must be wrong.

“Steve?” Max’s voice came over the line.

“Is something wrong?” He had to get straight to the point.

The pause felt like forever. His breath caught in his throat, hands trembling waiting for her to say something.

“They want to cut his hair.”

June 10th, 1985

“I think I want to grow out my hair.”

Billy says it to him that day while curled up in his bed. Steve’s fingers tenderly combing through his curly blonde locks. It’s soft. Void of any hairspray and all natural in its full curly glory. Smell of cheap drugstore shampoo. Slightly minty.

“Grow it out? It’s already long.” Steve says. He’s not wrong. Billy’s hair is already shoulder length and that’s with his naturally tight curls. Wet and brushed out it’s even longer. About to his collar bones.

“I know that. But I’d like for it to be longer. Is that okay?”

“Are you asking for my permission? Because you know you don’t have to do that.”

“I know. Just wanted to know what you thought.”

“More hair to grab onto? Doesn’t sound all that bad to me.”

Billy laughs and leans into Steve.

Billy had been getting better about voicing his feelings about things. Finding it easier to settle into himself in the company of Steve. Gaining a trust that Steve wouldn’t look at him like others would have if they had seen a boy take pleasure in a feminine aesthetic. Painted nails and soft makeup and even sexy lingerie when the mood was just right. Things he’d never allow leave the walls of Steve’s house, but had been able to set free when he was inside.

“Can I ask what made you want to do this?”

“Max braided my hair last night, but it’s too short on top so it was all sticking out.” Steve couldn’t see the smile peek onto Billy’s face or the rosy tint on his cheeks. “But I liked it.”

Max and Dustin had come to learn about the two of them. About not only their relationship but about Billy. About the little things he does to feel beautiful. Billy wasn’t as open with the two of them as he was with Steve. But they were nice about it. Supportive like Steve was. Billy would say it was nice having someone else in on the secret. Even if it scared him shitless having even just Steve in the know.

“Good. I bet you look amazing with your hair braided.”

“Do you know how?” Billy seems timid in the way he asks. But not like he used to be. His voice is consistent in tone and there is an ounce of confidence there.

Steve’s in the middle of wrapping a curl around his finger until he reaches Billy’s scalp. “A little. I used to braid Carol’s when we were little. Not sure how good I am now.”

“Do you want to try?” Same voice as before. Hopeful tinge to it that makes Steve smile.

“Go get me a brush.”

- : -

Steve barely listens to the rest of the call. He’s already getting ready to leave for the hospital before he even hangs up the phone. Barely bothering to make himself presentable. Going out to his car wearing a pair of pajama pants and one of his father’s college sweatshirts.

Max had told him to come. So he was already out the door. Letting himself imagine what Billy might look like now. It’s been over a month so he surely looks a lot different from when he last saw him. Hopefully he looks much different considering the last time he saw him he was drenched in his own blood with a hole in his chest. Max had taken pictures of Billy at the hospital, but he couldn’t bear to look at them. He needed to actually be there the first time he saw Billy, or he might completely lose his mind. If he hasn’t already.

The hospital is a full forty minute drive outside of Hawkins. But it’s two in the morning and the roads are almost entirely empty. So he floors it. Driving fifteen over the whole trip. Releasing all of the anxiety and anticipation into the weight of his foot to increase his speed.

He’s driving like he’s heading there to say goodbye. Like he’s getting ready to say his last words to the dying man in the hospital bed. Tell anyone else he’s driving this recklessly over a potential haircut they’d think he’d be being dramatic. To put it mildly.

But it was more than just hair. Billy’s hair meant something more than just the evolutionary purpose of keeping your head warm.

Losing his hair would be like losing a limb. It was a part of him. So much of his identity contained within each strand of dirty blonde. The one thing he had control over. The one thing Neil never bothered to touch. Hair he had been growing out for the better part of five years having only recently begun trimming it, and even more recently begun growing it out again. The bulk of the hair on his head was the same exact hair that had been with him through all of it. Through every beating. Through every milestone. Always there sitting on his shoulders.

It was the thing that brought him comfort in knowing it was his. That it would always be there. It was like his coat of armor. It was like a shield. Something he always used to hide behind. Something that protected him. Something that made stepping out into the world just a little bit bearable.

But then with Steve he didn’t use it to hide behind. When he was with Steve he let it fall. He let it soften and lose the stiffness brought upon by too much hairspray. He let Steve comb his fingers through it. Touch the very thing that gave him a glimpse of comfort. Because Steve did too. Steve’s gentle and caring hands combing through tangles while they lay together in bed. The same hands braiding his hair while they sat in front of the TV. Billy on the floor with his back to the couch. Sitting in between Steve’s legs as he tries to incorporate the shorter strands at the front of his head into the cascade of woven hair. Slicking it down with water and hairspray only for the short strands to sprout up only after only a couple of minutes. Billy never did get his perfect braid.

They want to take it off. They want to take it all off. Even though it’s not necessary. They wanted to take away the one thing Billy had left after everything. After it was all taken away from him. Steve had already destroyed the Camaro. The only thing he’d be walking out of the mall with would be that fucking hair and thankfully his beating heart.

And he would have Steve. He would always have Steve.

If he still wanted him when he woke up.

Steve passed the “Leaving Hawkins” sign at a whopping seventy miles per hour. Paying no mind to potential police surveying the road. Wasting no time at all.

June 20th, 1985

Billy’s wearing a scrunchie in his hair when he comes to Steve’s house after his shift. His hair is still drying from the pool water but is still so bouncy and shiny in the evening sunlight, and the little blue scrunchie in his hair makes him melt. The way the pink and orange hues of a perfect sunset warm the color of each strand. The ways his ears are fully exposed, his earring dangling and perfectly reflecting the light. The way the little strands at the front of his head fall into his eyes. The way it’s so messy yet so elegant at the same time. His heart soars. He looks beautiful.

Steve tells him that. With a kiss on the lips before he walks through the front door.

“Where’s the scrunchie from?” Steve asks.

“Stole it out of Heather’s locker.”

Steve gave Billy a fake shocked expression. “My boyfriend? A thief? It can’t be.”

Billy walks past Steve and into the house. “Relax, I swear there’s like fifty of them in there. She won’t even notice.” He takes a seat on the right side of the couch, like he always did.

Steve sits beside him, leaning his entire body up against Billy and burying his head into the crook of his neck. Billy still strongly smells of chlorine and he used to hate that smell until it became a signal that Billy was around. Suddenly it had become one of his favorite scents.

“Well it looks like we’re just going to have to get you some of your own doesn’t it?” Steve starts twirling his finger around one of the loose strands at the front of his face. “It looks real pretty.”

Pretty.

That was a newer word for them. Dropping the ‘boy’ at the end because it didn’t feel necessary anymore. Sometimes even made him feel a little like he was implying that boys couldn’t be pretty, needing to add the specification. Billy was becoming far more comfortable with himself and embracing it all. Beginning to believe that men could be pretty and that didn’t have to detract from anything.

So Steve called him pretty. He called him beautiful and gorgeous and stunning because he was. Because Billy deserved to hear it. And because it made him happy.

“Showers weren’t working at the pool. Need to wash the chlorine out. You gonna join me?”

“Oh absolutely.”

- : -

The trip through the hospital gives Steve flashbacks. Flashbacks to the night him and Max anxiously made the trek to the hospital wing Billy was in. Every moment he was currently experiencing felt like the memory. Sweaty palms gripping the handles in the elevator while the cage slowly moves up to the fifth floor. Shoulders hunched, leaning all his weight onto the bar as he curses each time the elevator stops. Foot tapping in anxiety as he waits and waits and waits until finally the doors slide open onto the fifth floor.

Steve ignores the lineup of people at the front desk and heads towards the glass door through which he can see Hopper. He wasn’t going to wait anymore. Fully prepared to bypass the stout man they had guarding the door.

Two hands come in contact flat against his chest as he gets within a foot of the door. So close to grabbing the handle. Steve leans all his weight against the man. Straight faced like a man on a mission.

“Let me through.”

Steve knows how he looks. Adorning comfortable clothes looking completely disheveled. Hair a mess, sweat forming on his brow, practically foaming at the mouth as he attempts to push his way past. His voice determined as he repeats himself.

“I can’t allow that sir. You do not have permission.”

The man just stands his ground. Hands still flat against Steve’s chest, applying very little pressure, but enough to prevent Steve from storming through.

“Let me through.” It’s louder this time. Enough to where he’s beginning to cause a scene in the middle of the waiting area. Staff and the rest all turning their heads towards the disarranged man on the verge of a public tantrum. He looks all kinds of mad, like he belongs in a padded room, restrained and straight-jacketed. He repeats himself over and over again until his voice starts to break. The man is not budging, and Steve doesn’t have the strength.

Then there’s a strong hand grabbing his bicep. Steve’s haze still recognizes it as belonging to a separate party.

“Let the kid in. He’s with me.” It’s Hopper’s distinct voice that breaks him from the daze. The man blocking his way moves to the left and removes his hands from his chest, nearly causing him to fall forward.

Hopper guides Steve through the glass doors. This is the furthest he’s made it. He can feel Billy’s presence just right around the corner. He’s not sure if that’s just because he can hear Max’s voice echoing through the halls as she argues loudly with the nurses on call.

“Good thing you’re here. Max has been guarding Billy for an hour. It’s just hair. I don’t know what the issue is.”

Steve just looks at Hopper, completely stone cold.

“It’s not just hair.”

He storms past him and into the room where Max is standing in front of Billy’s bed with her arms outstretched while two nurses try to reason with her. Steve stalls when he finally looks past Max and gets a glimpse of Billy.

He’s pale, but still tanner than Steve. He has more stubble than he would have liked but it’s still trimmed. The mask over his mouth and nose block his view slightly. His eyes are closed and he looks very peaceful.

And his hair is longer. A lot longer.

Splayed across the white pillow underneath him, his tight waves look to be at the very least an inch longer than the last time he’d seen him. Bangs falling into his face extending all the way down to the tip of his nose. It looks soft. Shiny like satin under the hospital fluorescent. He looks heavenly and angelic and that freaks Steve out.

Heavenly and angelic.

Asleep. Dead to the world. Dead.

Except he wasn’t dead. The crests and troughs of the heart monitor proving such to be true. But it felt too close. Like it was right around the corner and he had to be careful not to alert death to their location.

Steve walked past the shouting fourteen year old without a word and approached Billy’s bedside. Upon closer inspection he notices how Billy’s body has frailed. Previously cut muscles, now soft and smooth. Yet he didn’t look sickly. He was still looking more built than Steve, even. Steve moves a fallen hair from out of his eyes, like it was blocking his vision out of his closed lids. Gently tracing his finger across his hairline to behind his ear where he tucked back another strand. His skin was warm. Blood still coursing through his veins. He was definitely alive. And somehow Steve felt his presence. Knew deep down Billy was still in there.

He’s not paying attention to the screaming match taking place behind him. And they’re not paying attention to him. He’s just staring at Billy. Like he’s looking at the Mona Lisa. Behind six inches of bulletproof glass. He can’t get to him. He can’t reach him. But he’s there. He can see him. And god he’s as beautiful as ever.

It’s not the ear piercing screams from an enraged teenage girl or the annoyed combativeness from the two young nurses that separates his attention from Billy. It’s a strong hand on his shoulder that somehow both gently and forcefully pulls him back.

“Alright everyone that’s enough!” Hopper doesn’t shout but his deep and full voice carries an intensity that shuts everybody up. “One at a time, please?”

“You have no right to shave his entire head! You only have to shave off a small patch for the surgery, you said it yourself!” Max is fuming. The only word that sticks in Steve’s head is surgery. He doesn’t bother asking. Not sure if knowing would make it easier to swallow.

“We actually do have the right. His father already gave us consent to do so. It’s you who doesn’t have the right kid.” Steve has to physically restrain himself. Looking back at Billy as his fists clenched and his fingernails dug crescents into his palms at the mention of Neil.

Neil having the final say over the one thing he never touched. That was something Steve had promised Billy he would protect him from. Not the hair. Protect him from Neil taking anything more from him.

“Besides, a man’s hair shouldn’t be that long anyway.”

If Steve didn’t have the self control he did, there would surely be a nurse with a broken nose. Instead he turns back to Billy again. Looking at him. Trying to pull some answers from him.

I wish you could just tell me what to do.

“When does it need to be done by?” It’s the first thing Steve’s said since he entered the room.

“His surgery is scheduled for nine this morning. So you’ve got around five hours.”

Steve hasn’t turned towards the nurses. Hasn’t turned his head away from Billy.

“Then give us five hours.”

Steve’s expression when he finally turns back to look at the two nurses is mean. Attempting to get it across that he’s not asking.

“Five hours.” They say as they nod their heads and walk out. Annoyed expressions on their faces.

“Steve you can’t let them -“

“They won’t.” Steve takes a long look at Billy. Taking a deep breath as he glances towards the scissors that sit on the medical tray. “I’m going to do it.”

Max doesn’t say anything, which is actually a good sign. An even better sign is when she finally removes herself from her guarded position at the foot of the bed to come join Steve.

He pulls down at one of the shorter strands at the front of Billy’s head. Pulled taut, the spiral reaches all the way just past his chin.

“You think it’s long enough for a braid?”

June 20th, 1985

After a very hot and heavy make out session against the shower walls, the two actually take a shower. Despite having done so many times before, showering together always feels so intimate. Standing with each other, naked and alone in a very vulnerable position,

just existing without jumping each other’s bones. It was nice. It was just more proof that what the two of them ran deep. Soaping up each other’s bodies. That was something so personal.

Steve was running his fingers through Billy’s soap covered hair. Billy’s back turned to Steve as he did it. Letting the water from the faucet rinse his front while he let Steve play with the individual strands of his hair.

Steve liked the way Billy’s hair looked when wet. Still maintaining a curl no matter how saturated in water it got. The way it darkened to a near dark brown and he could easily be mistaken for a brunette.

The shampoo smells like coconut. Stolen straight from his mothers bathroom. The fumes mixed with the steam of the hot water clearing his senses and making his breathing feel so easy.

Steve pulls at one of his curls until it’s completely straight. Careful not to pull too hard.

“It’s already getting longer, baby.”

Because his back is turned, Steve doesn’t see the wide smile appear onto Billy’s face. Because the water is falling into his face, Steve doesn’t see the tears of joy form into his eyes.

Yet Steve knows without seeing. He wraps his arms around Billy’s waist and pulls him in close. Presses kisses into the mole on the back of his shoulder.

“It’s gonna look so good.”

“You think so?”

“You bet. I’d say give it two more weeks and I can get these little suckers into a braid.”

- : -

Steve remembers saying that so vividly. Because exactly two weeks later would be the Fourth of July. The same day that Billy’s life would nearly be taken. It felt like some cruel joke.

Now Steve is sitting in a hospital bed with his comatose boyfriends sitting in between his legs as he brushes through his hair. Trying to hold it together in front of Max and Hopper.

Steve’s not entirely sure Hopper has been made aware of the true nature of his and Billy’s relationship. He figures he’s probably pieced it together by now. And he’s pretty sure he doesn’t really care if he knows or not. He’s too focused on Billy. Focused on the man in between his legs. Focused on making him look as beautiful as he can while his hair is still on his head. Trying not to focus that it’s going to be his hands that will cut it off. Because it has to be his hands. Or else it’ll end up inadvertently being Neil’s hands.

And he wouldn’t let that happen.

Max hasn’t said much since he’d arrived. He can tell she feels guilty that Steve had been blocked from seeing Billy for so long. Especially considering how easy it was to get him past those doors. She’s just sitting in the chair at his bedside holding Billy’s hand. He is angry. But not at Max. He’s not really angry at anyone one particular person. He’s angry at the entire situation they’re in and he doesn’t know how to express that anger to Max without screaming. So he keeps his mouth shut and gently brushes the tangles out of Billy’s hair.

“I’m going to head downstairs for some food. Do you want me to bring anything up for you two?” Hopper says. He too has been mostly silent. Clearly pretty confused about the situation.

Max’s eyes lit up. “My bag. It’s in your car. Can you grab it?”

“Sure thing kiddo. You Steve?”

“A cup of coffee would be nice.”

Hopper tousled his and Max’s hair. “You got it. I’ll be back in a bit. Please for the love of God don’t yell at anymore nurses. They’re just doing their job.”

Hopper leaves the two of them and Steve finally begins braiding Billy’s hair. Combing his hair front to back before taking three small strands and began attempting a French braid.

“What’s in the bag?” He asks.

Max smiles. Looking down at Billy’s bare fingernails. “My Polaroid. Thought maybe he might like to have some pictures.”

“I think he’d like that.” Steve’s looking down at Billy’s hand in Max’s. “You have any nail polish in there?”

“I think so.”

“That’s good, maybe we can paint them.” Steve’s being extremely focused on braiding. Making sure it’s clean and precise and making sure no strand is sticking out. And it’s going a lot better than usual. Only needing to slick down a couple stray pieces. All while carefully pressing kisses to the top of his head as he makes his way down the length of his hair. Down his neck until he’s reached the end where he finally ties it off with a hair tie off of Max’s wrist.

“How’s it look?” Steve asks.

“He looks pretty.”

Steve can’t help it anymore. Can’t hold back the stream of tears that have been bottled up and threatening to overflow since he got the call. The tears squeeze through tightly closed eyelids and roll down his cheeks as he just buries his face into Billy’s braided hair.

“He does. Doesn’t he?” Steve gently wraps his arms around Billy’s chest, careful around the dressing over his scar. Fully taking in for the first time that Billy is still here. For the past month Billy’s being alive was just simply something he was told. Never something he got to see. Now he does see it. Now he sees it and he feels the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. Feels his heart beat against his chest. He’s right there and he was going to be okay.

He had to be okay. That was the only way Steve would be okay too.

“I’m sorry.” Max apologizes. He knows why she says it. He doesn’t need clarification.

“It’s not your fault.”

Max gives Steve a half smile and uses her free hand to squeeze his shoulder.

“I don’t want to cut his hair.” Steve takes in a deep breath. “But I know it has to be me.”

“I could do it.”

Steve shakes his head at her. “No. I made a promise. It can’t be anyone else.”

“Well I’ll be here with you if it helps.”

“Thanks.”

“Thank you for loving my brother.”

They sit there for a while in just complete silence save for the muffled chatter from outside the walls and the occasional beeping from one of the many machines Billy had been wired up to. Hopper only arrives around ten minutes later with two coffees in hand and a red Jansport on his shoulder. He hands Steve his cup and Max her backpack and takes a seat in the other chair that’s near the door.

“You two alright?” Hopper asks. He probably noticed Steve’s tear stained cheeks and the somber atmosphere of the room he walked into.

The two of them nod. Steve goes in to begin nursing the hot cup of coffee and Max begins to sift through her bag. Pulling out her camera case and two small glass bottles.

“I have red and orange.”

“Billy hates orange Max! You know this!” Steve laughs.

“I know that. Was just messing with you.” She tosses the bottle of red nail polish over to Steve. “You paint, I’ll take pictures.”

Max takes a few shots while Steve coats Billy’s nails in a shiny bright red varnish. Still in the same position of Billy sitting in between Steve’s legs with a pillow on his chest for Billy to lay back on. He brings a coated hand to his lips to gently blow dry. All the while Max is snapping candid photos of the two, passing each piece of film over to Hopper for him to put into his shirt pocket to allow it to develop.

“You guys want one of all three of you?” Hopper asks. He’s been mostly silent the whole time. Nursing his own coffee while he watched Max prance around the room with her camera.

“That would be great.” Max says, handing the camera over to Hopper before she makes her way over to the bedside. Leaning into the frame. Steve pulls Billy’s braid forward so that it’s now draped over his shoulder and visible. Intertwining his fingers with Billy’s now dry and red coated ones. He smiles as the flash temporarily blinds him.

They take as many more photos as they can until Max has run out of film. Hours pass and the hour hand is approaching eight o’clock. Meaning it’s about time.

About time to say goodbye.

The process begins slowly. Undoing the braid being the first step. Undoing the thing Billy really wanted to see for himself. The thing he’ll only get to experience in pictures. It hurt to pull the elastic from his hair and run his fingers through the perfectly woven strands.

The next part was securing it all back up into a ponytail at the top of his head. That way all Steve would have to do was make one single cut and be done with it. Allow the nurses to shave off the rest.

He knew it was going to be hard. But he didn’t anticipate it being this hard. Now holding an open pair of scissors above Billy’s head. All of his hair in between the blades. All he had to do was close his fingers together and it would begin. But he was stuck. Hands frozen still as he began to sob into Billy’s hair as Max and Hopper silently watched him. Max’s hand on his thigh and Hopper’s on his shoulder.

He couldn’t stop imagining Billy having to wake up like this. Wake up to the knowledge that his hair was gone at the hands of Steve. Wondering if maybe this would hurt him more than someone else doing it. He had to remember he made a promise. Even if it meant that Billy may wake up and hate him.

Steve’s fingers finally close the blades together and he can hear the sharp sound of cutting hair.

He made a promise.

September 19th, 1985: One Month Later

Billy’s awake.

Billy’s awake and Steve is there holding his hand as he does. It wasn’t planned, somehow fate just decided to work out in their favor.

Billy takes a while to come to. Nearly an hour before he truly recognizes who he is and where he is and who Steve is. Steve just sits there patiently while he does. Repeating over and over again that he’s in the hospital. That he’s okay. That “Steve’s here.”

Billy’s hair is short and curly now. A lighter blonde than before. It looks really good on him and he just hopes Billy is able to agree.

“Steve?” Is the first thing Billy says and Steve’s heart melts at the sound of Billy’s groggy voice.

“Yeah baby. It’s me. I’m right here.” Steve pulls Billy’s hand to his mouth and begins kissing his knuckles. Showing Billy his own painted fingernails. Maybe that will help serve as a comfort for him. “Welcome back.”

“How long?”

“Almost three months.”

Billy just nods. Then slowly moves a free hand up to scratch at his head and Steve’s heart stops. He thought he’d have more time.

His heart shatters when Billy’s hand makes contact and his half lidded eyes turn wide.

“My hair is gone.” He says before turning over to see Steve is crying.

“I’m sorry. I had to cut it. I'm so sorry.” Steve’s voice is broken and Billy takes a minute to finally register the situation. Spending about a minute pulling at the short curls in his hair before squeezing Steve’s hand with all of the strength he has. Which isn’t much.

“It’s okay.” He whispers. Pushing down his own sadness and grief over it to reassure Steve that he’s not mad at him. He couldn’t be mad at him. It hurt. It hurt to know that his hair had been taken from him. But he also knows Steve didn’t do it to hurt him. “It’s gonna grow back.” He’s not sure if he’s saying that to Steve or to himself.

Steve sniffles and apologizes again. And again. And again.

“Steve I’m too weak to kiss you so you better get down here and kiss me or I’ll fucking scream.”

Steve does as he’s told. Nose full of snot and cheek coated in tears but he does it anyway. And Billy tastes like coming home. Everything about right now feels so unreal and he just has to savor the moment before he wakes up from whatever dream reality he must be trapped in.

But he doesn’t wake up from any dream because there is no dream. Billy’s alive. Billy’s awake. And Billy is kissing him.

Things were going to be okay. He was certain of that now.

And so was Billy when Steve finally showed him the little Polaroid of him in his perfect braid. Held by Steve. Looking beautiful with his long hair. The hair will grow back. With new memories, better memories, attached to each inch.

Things were going to be okay.

next part

[cherrychonk]

The Transfer part 3 is up!

It's been two weeks. Two weeks of filing paperwork and cleaning people's desks. The chief would only allow you to patrol with Mako on random occasions, otherwise you were on desk duty. The only thing keeping you at bay was the new found friendships with your fellow officers and Jia. That woman would sneak in juicy gossip notes that kept you at the edge of your seat. So far two officers were having an affair with each other, the baker down the street was in a food battle with the new coffee place owner and the latest celebrity plastic surgery failure.

You had finished your latest work, it had taken you hours to fill with the correct information. A lot of things didn't make sense so you had to do a lot of investigating and digging to find the answers.

“Hey Mako, I'm done. Can you give this to the ch-” You stop when you realize that not only is Mako not there but you're completely alone in the bullpen. Looking up at the clock you almost gasp. Your shift had ended three hours ago and you didn't even notice people leaving.

“Monkey-feathers” You muttered. When you look up you aren't surprised to see the light in the Chief’s office still on.

Might as well hand it myself. You pick up your coat and paperwork, walking over her door. You knock on it gently. “Umm, Chief? I just finished some paperwork. Can I hand it to you or…?”

She doesn't respond so you knock again. No response. “Well Chief, I'll leave it on my desk. Good night!”

You start walking towards your desk when you do a full one eighty and knock one more time. “Chief, are you okay?”

You place your hand on the handle. You shouldn't do this… But what if she's hurt? Your mind floods with worry as you open the door.

And there she is, the big bad Lin Beifong asleep, head on her desk and drooling a bit. She looks so tired and relaxed that you don't want to wake her. Placing the pile of papers on her desk you stare for a moment before grabbing your coat and draping it over her, tucking her in, you tuck some stray hairs sticking to her face. She doesn't react, the only sounds are gentle snores. The raising and falling of her back keep you at ease.

“Night, chief.” You whisper as you walk out, closing the door behind you.

You get to the parking lot getting on your satomobile, it's an older model but takes you where you need to go. As you drive home you can't seem to get the chief out of your head. How adorable she looked sleeping like a baby in her office.

Finally you can have a hot shower and shed all the layers of clothing. You wash your hair and lay in the hot bathtub water humming as you relax. Many tattoos littered your body, yet there was more than enough space for a lot of more ink. Your most recent was this little headshot of a badger-mole bicep, a little boy had given you the art piece and you liked it so much you got it tattooed. You still remember how shocked and happy he looked.

You finish your shower and put on all your piercings back on, not wanting the holes to close up. You prepare tomorrow’s uniform and get under the covers after drying your hair. Tomorrow would be a long day.

___________

It was bad. For the first time in years you woke up later than you should. As you glanze at the clock on the wall your eyes go wide.

“FUCK I’M LATE!” You yell sprinting from the bed and starting to get dressed as fast as a lighting strike.

Running to the bathroom you don't even look at the mirror just quickly brushing your teeth and barely spitting the paste as you wipe your mouth with your arm, you put your hair in a ponytail and continue on. With your uniform and boots on you run down stairs to your satomobile and bring the engine to life.

You were on the speed limit, maybe a few miles more but you made it on time. You clock in seeing Jia’s shocked expression.

“Morning!” You yell as you run to the elevator.

“Y/N!” Jia yells back in a worried tone.

“See you at lunch time!” You managed to get out as the door closed.

You get weird stares walking to your cubicle. The other officers kept looking at you and laughing or whispering. You look at your clothes, they were fine. Your hair felt fine. Everything seemed fine. You see Mako trying to signal some to you, he has a panic expression on his face. But before you can ask him you hear a booming voice.

“Y/N MY OFFICE. NOW!” The Chief yells.

Fuck. You were on time, so it couldn't be that. You look back at Mako as you stand up. The utter look of pity makes you angry but terrified at the same time. So you start walking and with every step you take your anxiety rises. You knock, she orders you in.

“Good morning Chief I-” The first thing you notice is your folded coat on her desk. The second is her angry face, getting redder and redder as she looks at you. She slams the door shut with her bending.

“What did I tell you on your first day, officer.” She says in a cold angry yet quiet tone.

“N-not to go into your office without your permission…”

She inhales and grips the back of the chair so hard it seems to bend. “THEN WHY DID YOU ENTER MY OFFICE LAST NIGHT!” She yells

You look at her, she looks like she's about to rip you a new asshole in the next five seconds. You sigh, this is going to be your last day and you know it.

“I finished my reports and Mako wasn't there so I went to take them to you. I knocked a few times and when you didn't respond I got worried something might have happened to you so I let myself in to check on you.”

Lin’s anger didn't seem to go down at all.

“Your coat.” She spat, throwing the cloth at you. “Why leave evidence you idiot?!” She barked.

You tried hard not to smile remembering her sleepy face. “You looked cold.”

The Chief stared at you for what felt like minutes before sitting at her desk chair.

“I want to fire you Y/N, I'm not even going to shy away from saying it. Your behavior of testing my patience is getting on my last nerve-” She looked at you. “AND WHAT THE FUCK IS ON YOUR FACE?!”

Your hands flew to your face and in your horror you could feel all the piercings. Fuck!

“You never said piercings were a no.” You try to be a smart ass.

Lin punches the desk and it's about to yell at you when you interrupt her.

“Wait, let me explain!” You beg. “I always put them in before bed so they don't close off. I forgot to take them out this morning.” You start to gently take them out one by one as she stares you down. The last one being your tongue, as you are taking it out you look up to find her staring at it with a light blush. She coughs covering her mouth with her fist as she finds you staring back at her.

“Done.” You muttered as you placed them all on a handkerchief and into your pocket.

“Do you ever get tired of making a fool of yourself?!” She says annoyed.

“Chief I'm trying, things are just different here. So many things were acceptable back home that aren't here and vice versa. I swear to the spirits I'm not doing this on purpose.” You sigh. “I've been in the force for almost a decade and I've never sat behind a desk for more than three days. This isn't my environment. I have to be outside catching and tracking bad guys, not here cleaning officers desks and filing their paperwork. I have so much to give if you give me a chance, Chief. I promise not to let you down.”

Lin relaxed in the chair massaging her temples. “You can't even follow the most basic of orders Y/N. I will not send you to the streets where I know you will disobey everything I tell you.”

You got closer to her desk, your eyes locking with her. “Please, give me a chance. I can do this, let me prove myself to you. If I fail then I'll leave for good and hand you my badge. No more police work for me ever again.”

The Chief stared at you, she was looking for something in your eyes, maybe she found it. Silence covered the room for a few minutes before she sighed. “I'm going to give you ONE chance to prove me you aren't a complete idiot. Things will be done by the law. Got it?”

You beamed with joy. “Yes chief!” You can't even control your smile.

The Chief opened a drawer and pulled out a large file, she placed it on the desk in front of you. “This is a cold case, it's been open for around five years. It's incredibly graphic, if this is too much for you than I can give you-”

“I'll do it! I'll take it!” You almost yell.

“Very well then. Y/N, if you can solve it not only will I allow you to stay-” She folded her arms and exhaled. “But also...MAYBE- I'll allow some things in the dress code.” She huffed.

“You got it, chief!” You said grabbing the file. “I won't let you down!”

You give a small bow as you head out, a huge smile plastered in your face. The officers around you look at you like you're crazy but you don't care one bit. You finally got the chance to prove yourself and you wouldn't let your Chief down. You seat at your desk opening the file and scanning it over.

“That went well?” Mako asked in a whisper.

You chuckled. “I almost got my ass whooped but the spirits decided to give me a break. She gave me a chance to prove myself.” You return your focus to the page. “Now hush, I need to concentrate.”

Mako rolled his eyes and went back to his work.

“Good luck” The detective muttered.

****________________****

Case File Num B-5246: The Akuma Family Massacre

Reporting Officer: Shiro Zen

Crimes: First degree murder, Arson, Robery, Assault, organized crime, torture.

Scene description:

Officer Shiro Zen and Officer Chen Hun arrived at the scene at the Akuma mansion on Avatar Yangchen street 935, house number 17, United Republic of Nations.

The first thing the officers noticed is the sign of a dying fire. Under Chief Beifong's permission, the officers continued towards the house, weapons drawn. The first thing noticed was the broken handle on the front door indicating forced entry. After continuing inside the first body was discovered, now identified as Annie Akuma, the mother of the two children and wife to Kane Akuma. The victim had her hands tied behind her back and multiple stab wounds on her torso. Later the medical examiners would find traces of sexual assault premortem during autopsy. Cause of death, stab wounds.

Walking further in the next victim, later identified as Hiroto Akuma the younger son, was gagged with a rag. A rope was tight around his neck and he exhibited multiple burns to the face, torso and legs. Medical examiner found large traces of ‘fairy dust’ drug in his sistem. The young boy had one arm cut out clean with medical precision. Cause of death, overdose and blood loss.

The next body was tied to a burnt metal chair. The horror of it's torture plastered on their face. The body was later identified as Kane Akuma, the father and businessman of the family. Later on it was discovered that all his fingernails had been pulled out, his back had been broken in three places, multiple stab wounds littered his body and all of his toes had been cut out along with his crotch area. Cause of death is undetermined.

The last body was found in the living room tied to the sofa and gagged was the body of a young girl. Lea Akuma, she had multiple bruises as well as signs of severe sexual assault. Her back had deep scratches and her neck had deep bruises where circulation was cut from being choked by rope. Cause of death asfixia.

The perpetrators covered their tracks, the only DNA retrieved from the scene were the ones from the rape kits done on the two female victims. The DNA has not been matched to any person to date. Motives are still unknown, the Akumas had been known to be a respectful and kindhearted family. Some possessions seemed to be missing yet most remain intact...

___________

You stared at the file for a minute. The pictures inside were incredibly graphic, enough to make a grown man cry and puke. You had read a few pages now, the more you read the angrier you got. The only names in the entire file were those of the police personnel or the family. There was not a single name of any suspect, you didn't even know where to look.

You wrote down all the names you could find. All descriptions of schools and workplaces, places the family frequent and even the coffee shop the mother used to go to. With nothing more than a file filled with grousome descriptions of murder and other horrible things, you mentally prepared. This would be no easy trip to the park.