#anyway go stream nightmare time 2

[maurysgrillbrush]

its thinking about mrs holloway hours

[donutdisturblivball]

after rewatching nimona four times since its release (because yes, this movie is just that good), i caught a few little details that just make the whole experience so much better. so, incoming SPOILER ALERT, don’t read this if you haven’t watched the movie yet. speaking of, why the fuck haven’t you?? go watch the movie (and read the comic while you’re at it, some sites offer it for free), then come back and enjoy.

1. When the Squire gives Ballister his sword, he clearly realizes something’s wrong with it. He’s trained with it for so long that he knew that something was off just by holding it. This detail is something you wouldn’t pay much attention to when you first watch the film, but it’s there to make you realize something is a little off, especially when the Squire attempts to show him the video, but it also has plausible deniability so you could chalk it up to being something else (ie. the Squire wanting a picture with Ballister).

2. This sneaky line from this sneaky bitch.

3. Nimona tells us exactly how the movie ends. (Sorta. In a sense. The phoenix rises from the ashes and overthrows the government.)

4. You can see Nimona sneaking into the jail where Ballister is being kept.

5. Mini Ballister and Ambrosius! I think a few others have pointed this out before, but I only noticed it upon my second rewatch. (A little surprised younger Ambrosius didn’t have the Asian bob. That’s like a right of passage.)

6. Nimona’s train backstory versus her flashback.

7. During Nimona’s nightmare on the couch, she turns into a wolf, and then a cat. In her flashback, as the villagers attack her, she turns into a cat and then a wolf. It could be because having her turn into anything else would be too big for the couch, but if this is intentional, then it means Nimona was having a nightmare of that day.

8. This. Visually, the sparks are sorta similar, and in both instances, Ballister has lost something irreplaceable. I think this one might be a reach and may not be intentional, but my mind connected the two scenes and wouldn’t let go, so.

Honorable mention: the gay and trans flags above Ballister and Nimona respectively in that one scene. iykyk. I didn’t add it because 1. I think many other people have brought it up and 2. the mobile app is limiting me to 10 images. Anyway, I love this movie and its comic SO much and I’m so glad that it made it to our screens from the box of scrapped movies that could have been great if people (namely, executives) gave them a chance. There is so much love, care, and passion put into this movie, and you can really sense that this was made for its audience and its author, for its story and not only for the money it could make. This movie is metal as fuck, so GO STREAM IT!!

[samenameastheothers]

Right Person Wrong Time pt. 2

✨MDNI✨

Ummmm hellooo!! First off I want to thank everybody for the love on pt. 1…like wtf I was not expecting that! Anyway I hope you all enjoy pt. 2 it's a little shorter...

I'm hoping to make one more part but classes suck and so does life sometimes so I have no idea when ill get that out. Everyone who asked to be tagged will be tagged again in pt.3 and if you want to be tagged, add a note at the bottom. <3

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, reader dreams of cheating, swearing, itsnothappyyetbutipromiseitscoming :)  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You finished your mission, got the information the Rhysand needed, and left. The effort it took to continue made up some of your hardest moments, and that was saying something. Regardless, you had continued on. Azriel was always behind you, you could feel his presence even more now with the bond, but he made sure you could never see him. Upon your return to Velaris, you masked everything, the bond, and your true feelings about it. You were good at that, masking what you felt, that's the reason you were in the inner circle, in The Court of Dreams in the first place. You wouldn't be here if it weren't for your excellence in discretion, it's the way you kept secrets that made you stand out to the High Lord those years ago, made you stand out to him. It didn't matter anymore, what made you special, rumors got out that you sold information to other courts a few months ago. After hours of integration by your own partner, there was no evidence that you did it, but no evidence that you hadn't either. You begged Feyre to read your mind, to prove you were innocent, but she wouldn't do it. You had sobbed, tears streaming down your face, trying to convince not only the man you loved but also the man you worked for that you would never betray him. He had walked away. Even after the truth came out, that you were not a traitor, he never came back…

“Until two weeks ago,” you say under your breath as you walk back to your apartment from the meeting you had been in for most of the day. 

You have been reminiscing about that night when he ate you out like your cunt was the last sustenance on earth, but more importantly the night you found out the male who broke your heart was your mate. How could you not have felt it before? You knew the connection between the two of you was strong, but how could the two best spymasters in the whole of Prythian not realize that they were fated for each other? The look on his face that night made you believe he hadn't suspected it either, and the fact that he has been absent at every court meeting for almost a month since makes you certain about how he feels being tied to you. Nevertheless, you were concerned, scared that he would do something rash, but mostly you wish you could get Azriel out of your head. Non-stop you were thinking about him, even more than when you were in an actual relationship with the male. You had tried drinking, hell you had gone out every night with Nesta before she got concerned and stopped taking you, but nothing worked. He was always there. 

You walk into your bedroom and let out a deep breath, you're exhausted and need a nap. You make your way over to your bed, shedding your clothes. Opting to sleep in the underwear you had on is better than going to bed in your full outfit. Your head hits the pillow and instantly you're asleep… 

Usually, your dreams aren’t vivid. I mean you've had crazy nightmares and weird sex dreams before, who hasn't? This time though, it's different. 

At first, it's dark, you can't sense anything in front of you. 

“The fuck?” you mutter, it feels so real, the feeling of nothingness. 

Then you hear it. A woman, moaning in ecstasy, she's saying someone's name but you can't make it out. Suddenly the image appears before you, a room, darkly lit, a woman on a bed of silk and an Illyrian male on top of her. You see him slide in and out of her, the lewd sound of his cock wet with both their pleasure makes you feel oddly out of place. You can’t seem to make out the image in front of you, it's constantly going back and forth between definitions so clear that you can make out the sheen of sweat on the skin of the woman he fucks, but every time you try to focus on the male you can't make out who he is. It's frustrating, you would like to enjoy this dream but something feels wrong, the male seems familiar. You don't realize who it is, not until the woman moans out his name again, 

“Azriel” she gasps and sighs like it's her own mate's damn name.   

 “No” you whisper. 

You can feel your heart break as you watch what's in front of you. You sink to the floor. Your eyes can't seem to stray from the sight of Azriel burying himself inside the other woman. He covers her mouth with his, his face now in full definition, his tongue sliding in and kissing the woman passionately.

“No stop please stop!” you start screaming at them, screaming at Azriel everything you have felt since he walked out of that interrogation room, and everything you wished you had said since. Your cries fell on deaf ears, he doesn't even turn his head to recognize that you are there. Even when he was upset at you, his eyes always seemed to find you, wherever or whatever you were doing. His moans now filling the room mixing with the crying of the other fae. You can’t help but remember the night he told you that you were the only woman who was ever able to get those sounds out of him. You can't stand it anymore, watching the woman come undone by him. You try to move but you are rooted in place unable to stop yourself from witnessing the breaking of your heart. It seems like you stay there for hours, you've long since been numb, tears steadily slipping down your face. 

Finally, Azriel slides out of the woman and stands up off the bed. You watch, somehow still mesmerized by him after everything. The way his shadows wind up his naked body makes him look like some dark god as he walks towards you. You are still sitting there, practically kneeling as he reaches you. Azriel grasps your face in his scared hand bringing you up to stand in front of him, his dark eyes burning into your soul.

 “My love, why do you cry?” he says in a voice softer than you expected. Softer than you have heard him speak to you in a while. It startles you, the way he seems so caring, and when you look into his eyes you see tears in them.

 “Azriel-” before you can respond his lips crash into yours. 

You feel darkness colliding all around you, the sensation of him then the sensation of nothing again, over and over. You feel as if you are falling, you try to scream but smoke fills your mouth, and- 

You wake up to your room filled with shadow.   

Tag list:

@sidthedollface2 @sillymercury @brieflyclassymortal @abewitchingwillow @crazylokonugget @kalulakunundrum @fxckmiup @azriels-shadowsinger @gorlillaglue25 @domciak84

[queenie-official]

Chapter Twelve: ‘A Royal Scandal’ Bridgerton Au!Anakin

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

a/n: angst 😀 seatbelts on 🗣️

News travels fast everywhere, that was a fact. everybody loves a good piece of gossip. Now royal gossip- that was like a rare jewel that everyone wanted to buy. if you could take that rare jewel, copy it and give one to anyone willing to buy it you would be rich. so when a new tabloid came out just to write about what went down at parliament it truly didn’t come as a surprise.

Lady whistledown was the name of the anonymous writer who stepped up to the plate. you’d never heard of her. no one had, but her paper spread everywhere very quickly. Padme had been the one to bring the paper to you, it was exaggerated for sure but none of it was necessarily a lie either.

you could feel her eyes on you as you read over the paper clearly trying to figure out wether she would have to comfort you in anyway. but for some reason you found yourself calm? maybe numb was the better word. Lady whistledown’s paper did a good job at laying everything out in a way to keep people hooked, you could admit that as an avid reader. she also brought up some good questions that you had a feeling the rest of the Ton where definitely asking.

as a royal you have to learn to exist under the microscope of your people, that came with the job. but this felt different. this was more than just your people, this was all the neighboring kingdoms as well. ‘how could the murder of a king go unnoticed?’ ‘would there be a more severe punishment for something so large?’ ‘how can we ensure this won’t happen again?’ ‘if there was already a attempt on the new kings life can we really say any of the royals are safe?’

this was more than just a scandal it was a political nightmare. how do you even begin to address these issues? and even if you did how to you prove what you say to be true? you couldn’t say it won’t happen again because it very well could. endless streams of these thoughts swirled in your head as you finally looked up to meet Padme’s gaze. there was nothing but pure concern on your best friends face as she looked over you, searching for anything. sadness, fear, anger but there was nothing. you just sat there and did nothing, which to her was more concerning then if you did freak out.

“y/n?” she reached over and took your hand into hers as she spoke. it was all too much, you felt like you could snap under the pressure at any moment. the current numbness the only thing protecting your sanity. you don’t say anything in return, afraid that if you speak you’ll break.

overnight this was printed, overnight it seemed the entire world new what took place yesterday. Padme continued to stare at you sympathetically, silently debating whether to speak again. though in all honesty there wasn’t much else to say, there wasn’t anything she could say.

you stand up from your seat and she quickly follows suit, pulling you into a hug before you could get away. you stay like that for just a moment before pulling away and walking silently out of the room.

you knew it was wrong. you knew of all times to have people at your side, now would be the best time to do so. but you couldn’t help it, isolating yourself the same way you felt emotionally. it was like you where punishing yourself further for something that wasn’t even your fault, it was easier then facing reality.

to let yourself scream and cry felt to hard, if you let yourself feel that way- let yourself fall. you weren’t sure you’d be able to stand again, or breathe properly. Not on your own anyway, and that was even scarier, letting people in to help build you back up. What if you lost them? those support beams taken from you, you’d hit the ground hard. truly unable to get back up. no you couldn’t let them in, it was easier this way. so that’s what you did.

pushed them away, it was difficult not just because it was hard for you to shut them out but also because Padme and Anakin in particular where very stubborn individuals. honestly you where pretty sure they were working together, you’d tell the guards not to let her in the castle only for her to visit you in your study as if the order hadn’t been given at all. not even Braeden stopped her, and when you’d asked he’d simply reply he was given an order to allow her to visit at all times. there was only one other person who could give an order of such authority to him so you knew exactly who to blame.

Padme’s persistence was futile, it become a routine at this point she’d visit against your wishes and join you in your daily tasks. speak to you even though you refused to speak back, she acted as if everything was normal even though it wasn’t. it was infuriating but if you reacted you knew it would be the final push that broke you. Anakin was just as bad if not worse, he lived with you after all.

no matter how big the castle was it never seemed big enough with how easily he’d find you. try to get you to talk, to look at him. but you couldn’t if you looked at him you knew you’d cave. so you did your best to make sure he was almost never in the same room as you. but Anakin was a relentless person, if the stories he’d told you about him and Obi-Wan where anything to go off of you shouldn’t be surprised.

there was something else as well. he was growing just about as frustrated as you.

you where standing in your undergarments, Eleanora placing on your petticoats in silence. she wanted to say something but if padme couldn’t even get a word out of you she doubted she’d be any different.

to occupy yourself- more like torment, you reread Lady whistledowns tabloid as well as the new articles that had come out. questions of when the situation would be addressed publicly as well as who’d be replacing the council members began to rise more and more you’d noticed. “Get Out” your head snapped up to the person who’d let themselves in your room before quickly looking back down.

Anakin had let himself in and was staring directly at Eleanora when he spoke, you where silently grateful he hadn’t been looking at you because you weren’t sure what you’d of done if eye contact was made. you watched through your peripheral vision as she bowed to him and then exited the room closing the door behind her. now it was just you two, and you still hadn’t even finished getting dressed. but there he stood, arms crossed and staring directly at you.

“you cannot ignore me forever” he’s met with silence, you can feel the Tension in the air begin to grow stronger. “at least look at me” he steps into your field of vision but you quickly advert your eyes. “y/n” he reaches out for you and you step back, you hear him sigh frustratedly. “i am not leaving until you speak to me, and it’s not like you can exit the room dressed as you are so there’s no where to run” you huff but do not speak.

if only ignoring him was that easy, but you are very quickly reminded as to why you’d refused to be in the same room as him. for some reason you found it much harder to ignore his pleas than Padme’s, perhaps it was something about his voice that just tugged at your heart as if he himself controlled wether or not it truly broke. “why are you doing this?” the question was so simple and you knew he knew why just as much as anyone did. shockingly however no one had bothered asking, and the way he asked. the pure desperation in his voice, like it physically hurt him to see you like this. it was all too much and he’d barely done anything at all- that angered you.

you felt it boil up, everything you’d been feeling and pushing down swirling together to make a crimson red. “just leave!” you shout, it came out broken and raspy not haven spoken in so long. “leave me alone.” you added your voice deepening in a attempt to come off more commanding then you where. “no.” you take a sharp breath in at his calm answer biting your tongue so you wouldn’t shout again. “i said to leave.” you state trying to stay as levelheaded as you could.

“you can’t even look at me as you say that” he scoffed, why was he making this so difficult. “Anaki-” you’re cut off by him, a sudden bout of anger and frustration of his own taking over. “i will not leave you! i cannot leave you! not like this, while you’re so broken. those shattered parts of you trying to cut whatever they can.” his voice grows louder with each sentence, hoping that if he screams loud enough you may actually hear what he was trying to say to you.

“you may not love me y/n but i love you.” you feel the air knocked out of your lungs, snapping your head up to meet his face as you try to process if you’ve heard him correctly. “i’ve fallen in love with you.” his voice cracks, tears welling in his tired eyes. he looked like he had been getting about as much sleep as you. you felt your heart break and swell. “i’m in love with the lonely girl who cries out for company, a warmth shrouded in a cloudy mist calling for help.” why had you been pushing him away, your own vision began to blur as tears burned the back of your eyes.

warmth engulfed you, and you fell completely into his hold. “i love you, let me help you… please.. let me love you.” you sobbed at his words. the dam finally breaking, you let yourself feel not just for your own sake but for his, for Padme, for Eleanora. he pulls you in tighter, afraid to let you go in fear you’ll push him away again. you cling on just as tightly, shaking from each cry. everything was shit but it would be okay. you would be okay. he was there for you and he wasn’t going anywhere, not without a fight. you had a support system and it was time to let them do just that, support you.

“I love you too.”

part 13

Tag List: @luvvfromme @gatekeepingirlboss @bimbo-baggins86 @iluvanakinskywalker @bby-imasociopath @curlycarley @burnthecheshirewitch @misscaller06 @sweetcheesecakesblog

LOVE CONFESSIOOOONN🗣️🗣️🗣️ I REPEAT NOT A DRILL WE GOT A BRIDGERTON LOVE CONFESSION FROM ANI 🎉🎉 (don’t know who noticed and who didn’t but the way Anakin shouts his confession after telling reader to shout it to him so he can hear her and know she means it in chapter 7👀 just a fun little detail i wanted to point out 🥰 and don’t think reader forgot about that either🌝) chapter 13 i will hopefully have out tmr🧍‍♀️don’t @ me on that tho 👩‍🦯👩‍🦯anyways i hope you huns enjoyed Xx<3💋💋

[morganski-19]

Things I Won’t Say When I'm Sober: Part 3

part 1, part 2, part 4

It’s dark when Steve wakes up. He’s not exactly sure why he did. For once since his world got flipped upside down, he had a nice dream. Or didn’t dream at all. But whatever it was, it was the kind of thing he woke up from and didn’t immediately want to grab the bat that rests under his bed. Not that he could this time anyway, he wasn’t even home. 

He isn’t even home. Freaking out, he falls out of the peacefulness as his heart starts rapidly beating. This wasn’t his room, these weren’t his house. If anything were to go wrong nothing was near him to even grab for a weapon. Nothing for him to protect himself from the bad. 

Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, the room starts to make more sense. Light is softly streaming into the room illuminating the posters on the wall. The lingering smell of weed starts to filter in as the familiar ache in his bones returns. Memories of the previous night come streaming in as he relaxes back into the bed. 

Steve isn’t in some government warehouse being tortured. Steve isn’t in the upside down. He isn’t in a crumbling mall or tunnels set ablaze or even the Byers’ house as a monster falls from the ceiling. No, Steve is in Eddie’s room, sleeping in his bed because he got too high to drive home. He is safe. 

A groan comes from the other side of the bed, followed by some words Steve can’t understand. He rolls over to find Eddie facing his way, hair all messed up and covering his face. An urge comes over Steve to push it away, uncover his face, and be able to see it in the dark. That way he could look at Eddie the way he wanted to, just not with the fear of being caught. Eddie was a deep sleeper anyway, Steve once saw him be able to sleep through a movie night with the kids. If he could sleep through that chaos, then he could sleep through anything. 

Before Steve could even do that though, more groans and noises slipped out of Eddie’s mouth. 

“Not- Not me. Not me.” He muttered, louder this time, his voice shaking like it did in the boathouse. 

It was a nightmare. Steve could only guess what it was about, but he was sure he’d had many of the same. After what they went through, it was hard not to. If it were like one of Steve’s, it could be really bad. Or it could be just okay enough that it would fade away in a few seconds.

“Stop. I didn’t do it.” Eddie says again, almost like he wants to scream it. 

Hearing it makes Steve’s heart pull. He should wake him up, take him out of this misery, and hold him in his arms until it all went away. 

“It wasn’t me!” Eddie screams now. “I didn’t kill her.”

Steve’s reminded of the screams he would yell out in the night after Starcourt. Screaming that he worked for Scoops, hoping that would make them stop. That the pain they put them through would stop. He’d have dreams and flashbacks to that moment more than he would ever admit. He knew what it was like to be stuck in the moment. Even though Eddie’s was different, that didn’t mean it was any less traumatizing. 

“Just stop hunting me,” Eddie says again, almost like he is retreating. 

He can’t take it anymore and reaches across the small gap between them, shaking Eddie’s shoulder. “Hey, Eddie. Eddie wake up,” he whispers, trying not to startle him. 

“I didn’t-” Eddie whimpers again, slowly waking up. “I didn’t do it.”

“I know you didn’t, man. I know. You didn’t do it.” Steve breathes. “Wherever you are, you aren’t there right now. You’re here with me, Steve. And I believe you. You didn’t do it, I know.”

Eddie lets out a shaky breath as he opens his eyes. “Steve,” he whispers, reaching out a hand to touch Steve’s chest. 

“Yeah, I’m here man,” he responds, ignoring the spark that ignited at the touch. 

“Where are we?”

“In your room. Your new room. We’re in your bed. Remember last night? I got so high you wouldn’t let me drive home so you made me sleep in your bed. And Robin, she’s here too. Out there on the couch sleeping. We’re safe here, you’re safe. You’re safe with me.”

Eddie’s eyes meet Steve, tears slowly filling his eyes. “I didn’t do it. They didn’t believe me. How-.” He blinks as a tear rolls down his cheeks. “How could they think I could do that to another person?”

Part of Steve’s heart breaks at those words. Knowing Eddie now, it was hard to think that he could ever hurt someone like that. Sure he’d say some things he didn’t mean from time to time, but ever really hurting somebody, that wasn’t Eddie. And he wasn’t violent, chose to fight with his words rather than his fists. Even in high school when Steve would hear about fights, it was never Eddie who threw the first punch. He was always the one fighting back. 

Before Steve can even get a chance to respond, Eddie shoots up, rubbing at his face. “This is so stupid. Why did this have to happen now, when you’re here? It was fine, I was fine.” 

“Eddie,” Steve interrupts, sitting up as well. 

“This is so embarrassing. You don’t have to deal with me like this, I don’t need your pity. You can just go, I’m sure the high has worn off by now. Buckley is probably up from all of the screaming and-” 

“Eddie,” he interrupts again, pulling Eddie’s hands away from where they were violently rubbing his eyes. “I’m not leaving.”

“Even after you just saw me-”

“Having a normal reaction to a nightmare based on the insane amount of shit that you just went through a few months ago. No, I’m not.”

Eddie blinks a few times at Steve in disbelief. “Even after I’ve just probably woken you up and scared the shit out of you.”

“Even then. And you didn’t wake me up, I already woke up.”

“From what?”

“Nothing really. I just woke up and heard you muttering in your sleep and thought it might be a nightmare. I waited a second, sometimes they can disappear fast. But it didn’t, so I woke you up.”

Eddie starts playing with his fingers, circling one of his fingers as if his ring was there. “Thanks,” he mutters, avoiding Steve’s gaze again. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I was just,” Eddie looks up at the ceiling. “It was different from my other nightmares. Most of the time I’m back at the trailer when it happened or swarmed with the bats again. Sometimes Dustin is in her place, or mine, and then I can’t save either of them. Or it’s Buckley or Wheeler or one of the other kids or … or you. And every time I can’t save them.”

Steve leans forward, trying to see Eddie better. “But this time.”

“This time, I was at the boathouse when Jason and his shithead goons found me. They caught me before I got to the water and started beating me up. I-I couldn’t get them to stop.” Eddie chokes up as a few tears roll down his cheeks again. 

“Eddie,” Steve says without anything else to follow. Instead, he reaches out and pulls Eddie into a hug, ignoring the thoughts in his head telling him that it’s too much. He doesn’t care right now. Eddie falls into him, leaning into Steve’s touch and letting himself be held. 

“I thought they were going to kill me,” he sobs into Steve’s chest. 

Steve doesn’t know how long they sit there like this and he doesn’t care. He would sit there forever with Eddie like that if that’s where he wanted to be. Eddie acts all tough as if what happened didn’t bother him. That the mobs of people calling him a murderer and a satanist were just a bunch of fakes following the word an insane teenager. But deep down, those words cut and fester and Eddie’s let it build up. Steve can tell that he has. 

So if Eddie feels safe enough to let it all go, to finally feel what he should feel about the situation, then Steve’s not going to stop him. It would only add to the cruelty that has been handed to Eddie if it did. 

Eventually, Eddie’s sobs start to fade as Steve leans them back down on the bed. Eddie is still wrapped up in Steve’s arms but almost falling back to sleep so Steve doesn’t care. Instead, he keeps holding him until his breath starts to deepen and the tears stop streaming down his face. 

Steve can’t help but think to himself that he wants this all of the time. Not the nightmares or the crying. But the feeling of warmth of Eddie against his skin. His arms holding Eddie close and not want to let go. It feels like the most right thing in the world.

He thinks back to earlier that night. How fast he jumped away from Eddie, ashamed of being so close to him. Now he can’t even understand what he was thinking. How can he be ashamed to be close to Eddie when this feels so right? When this feels more right than anything in his life in the past few years. 

For the first time in a while, Steve feels content. Happy even. Not just with the world around him, but with himself. Like everything he’s been afraid of faded away and he’s just sitting in this moment. He isn’t afraid anymore. Of himself at least. If liking Eddie makes him feel like this, then there can’t be anything wrong with it, can it?

another part coming soon!!

Tag list (lmk if you want to be added or removed): tag list: @imfinereallyy @estrellami-1 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @overhillunderhill @renaissan-vvitch @ashwagandalf @sirsnacksalot @lorelei724 @emly03 @super-cosmic-library @rozzieroos @dolphincliffs @henderdads @abyssal808 @evergreenprose @demolvr @steddiehyperfixation @stedumpsterfire @ent-is-indecisive @steddierthings @makeadealwithdean @kas-eddie-munson @extra-transitional @lunaticmarunatic @steveharringtonmilf @cardboardqueen @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @panicatthediaz @ellietheasexylibrarian @hallucinatedjosten @awkwardgravity1 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @its-a-me-a-morgan @messrs-weasley @dreamlandforever @stevesbipanic @inmoonywetrust @sani-86 @aellafreya

[llondonfog]

twst (horror) tober — day 1 (listen)

and we're back for round 2!! to keep my sanity this year, i'm going to do my best to keep prompts to ~500 words. if some go longer, then more delight for us all, but this is to keep my expectations manageable and who knows? perhaps i might come back to some of these prompts the way that i still am so very fond of 2022's twstober drabbles :) anyways, i do hope you enjoy the first day's piece! (fun fact: this is a snippet from a fic idea i have buried away....) and of course, these will eventually go up on ao3 when i have the time<3

➤ Day 1: Listen | "Listen to me!"

Sebek is haunted.

Not in the way that his family and friends and neighbors who pass him by on the street and cast him pitying, sorrowful glances think— but oh, how he wishes that he was.

He hears their whispers and murmured commiseration, the hushed voices that speak of a lonely boy lost to the clutches of the unforgiving woods. They shake their heads weighed with grief like the cattails by the river, unable to imagine the gruesome sight that one of their own had stumbled upon— ah, but it was the nature of the world they bargained to live in. A true shame, a tragic reminder, that the youngest Zigvolt was fated to learn such realities from the death of his dearest friend.

Sebek does not correct them.

It is better to let them believe that his drained expression was on account of having found Silver's body mauled in the woods by the animals they are familiar with, rather than the true ones that lurk deep within those ancient glades. It is better to let them cling to their ignorance, to think that the madness of paranoia scratching at his spine is only too understandable by having to discover one's best friend at the scene of his death and the ensuring nightmares that would follow— not that he doesn't have nightmares, that is to say, only that the contents contain horrific figures very much among the living.

Either way, his family knows no better when they find him tangled within his bedsheets, trembling and choking on Silver's name.

No, Sebek is haunted by a presence far too real than the ghost of memory, and his unnerved fingers twitch in the curtains of his bedroom window as his sleep-deprived gaze blinks out to the forest's edge where he can see them.

Three figures where there had once been only two, weaving in and out of the tree line like fish in the stream beneath the call of the moonlight. If he squints, he can make out the lethal curl of dark ivory spouting from the top of one of the figures, and the way that the smaller of the trio does not touch the ground as it tugs their newest member along in a macabre vision of a dance that Sebek cannot pull his gaze away from no matter how hard he tries. There is no mistaking the gleam of familiar silver hair in the beguiling welcome of the night— and even from a mile away, Sebek can all too clearly hear the words that smiling, laughing mouth is speaking, as if Silver himself stood directly behind him in the stillness of his bedroom.

(He wonders if he turns to look, if the boy will surely be there as Sebek remembers him last; blood-stained and smiling so sweetly even in death as Sebek had found him, reaching in the dirt as if to take the hand of one who had led him to his doom.)

"Malleus begs of you to join us, he misses you terribly," Silver's voice all but sings against his strained thoughts, tremors anew bursting down his spine like shrapnel. "Please, Sebek— don't you remember the promises we made? Father came back for me, just as he said he would."

That thing is NOT your father, Sebek wishes to shout and scream in spite of how it would wake his entire family to the horrors lurking outside, the entities cursed to wander the woods and tempt those desperate enough to find solace in their gleaming smiles. But Silver is right, as he often is; Sebek does remember— he remembers a childhood of playing in the woods with Silver, an orphan his family had come to foster and adore. He remembers two imaginary friends who could breathe fire and fly, who could coax butterflies to dance along the breeze and flowers to bloom into the prettiest of crowns. He remembers how much Silver would cling to the affections of a figure with burning crimson eyes, and how much he would the same for a being that smiled down at him with crinkled emeralds older than time itself.

As he had grown older, such strange fantasies had become just that: the result of lonely and imaginative children left to their own devices, spinning stories in the fertile soil of an enchanting landscape. Sebek did not question the time Silver continued to spend within the shadowed trees, for the other boy always did have a unique aptitude for the local wildlife, nor did he find himself with time to spare to wonder about the dreamy smile Silver would often return with, or the odd snatches of unfamiliar songs he'd hear the boy humming tunelessly to himself.

In hindsight, he'd have grabbed a torch and burnt the whole fucking forest down.

Sebek's fingers force themselves to move with a herculean effort that he did not know himself to possess, yanking the curtains shut and blocking out the terrifying sight as Silver's voice rises and fades like radio static, a nauseating sickness pitching forward in his stomach.

"We're supposed to be a family now, Sebek, aren't you listening? Can you not hear them call for you too? I won't let them leave here without you, I promise we'll stay and wait—"

They'd already waited forty-five days. Sebek rocks forward on his heels, squeezing his eyes shut and swallows a hoarse, empty sob.

How many more remained until he found himself walking out to join them?

[aquilacalvitium]

who is this Nate?

Oh.

Oh, buddy.

Oh I get to talk about Natewantstobattle and you will regret this.

So! I'm not a NWTB expert so don't expect a full bulletpoint presentation BUT I can share my experience!

Natewantstobattle is a nerdcore turned original artist who made songs about video games, anime and cartoons for years and only recently (last year I think) decided to leave nerdcore behind and focus entirely on original music.

He's made some BANGER songs, has the voice of an angel and seems to have the same enthusiasm about dark/demonic fictional imagery as myself ^_^

He's made a lot of FNAF songs which is how I found him. His music got him noticed by Random Encounters (RE) who make small-budget indie musicals based on video games and decided to make a five-part special musical based on FNAF for which they reached out to get Nate involved. He appeared and sang as a prominent character in that musical as well as plenty of others that they made. Markiplier was also in that musical.

Nate is popular with a lot of Jacksepticeye and Markiplier fans as his content focuses on similar games, leading to the same people finding him. Because of that, the fans' habit of making characters or "egos" for youtubers from their videos also extended to Nate and honestly while I still listen to his music I haven't been active in the fandom for a while so I have no idea how many egos there are now, but I'm desperate to rejoin the fandom space and catch up!

Anyway, the egos I'm very well aware of are Natemare and Phantom.

Haha yeah, he kidnapped Matpat for that music video.

The video in question is for Mangled, a 2~ minute song based on FNAF 2. The character he portrayed was an instant hit with the fans and was subsequently dubbed "Natemare" as a play on nightmare.

Also in 2018 Nate released a limited edition Natemare shirt thus confirming the name as canon and also I have that shirt so cough cough.

Secondly, Phantom!

MAN I LOVE PHANTOM!

From a music video for a song of the same name.

As far as I'm aware there's practically no canonically confirmed information about him other than he makes deals and steals people's souls. That lead to a lot of fans calling him a demon, including myself.

It took me five years to put together a cosplay for Phantom because I couldn't find one part! You'd think it would be the staff, right? Impossible to find an exact replica, right? No. It was the bloody shirt. I couldn't find a single freaking long sleeve red button up shirt for YEARS. I've got it now, though.

His original albums so far include Sandcastle Kingdoms, Paid in Exposure and To Let Go. That one is actually currently coming out one song at a time on his YouTube channel and music streaming platforms. There's only two songs out at the moment and I think the plan was to release them slowly until they were all released by the time the album itself dropped, but it was announced last month that it's been brought forwards to the 18th! That's in FOUR DAYS!!!! The last song to come out was Forgotten on Tuesday which is the one you saw me blogging about. It slaps so fucking hard you have no idea.

If you want any personal recommendations for his music, my favourites of his original work are Phantom, Forgotten, All I See, Perfect by Design and Branded.

PIf you look up Phantom you may see it titled as a Hazbin Hotel song but actually it came out a good while before Hazbin Hotel did, he just realised how well the character of Phantom matched with Alastor from HH and released a remastered version with some of Alastor's voice lines over it.

My favourites of his nerdcore songs are Mangled, No More, Stay the Course, Time to Move on and Ask for More. That last one is about Food Wars. I don't even watch that show, that's just how good the song is.

Oh! As an addition that I almost forgot to talk about, he's also a voice actor! He's appeared in Attack on Titan, Fairy Tail, he plays the main character in Luck and Logic and has appeared in multiple video games like Dream Daddy, Yandere Simulator and Monster Prom.

[missywritesfor7]

❤️‍🩹Lifeline | MYG❤️‍🩹

Synopsis: It’s long been controversial for idols to date, but idols dating each other can be really beautiful or a complete nightmare. When Yoongi's relationship with another idol is discovered, he decides maybe it’s time to break the taboo and show people it’s ok for idols to date. Instead, they find themselves caught in the midst of one media frenzy after another and struggle to keep their relationship as strong as it had been the past 2 years. Yoongi finds a self destructive way to cope, and it causes even more problems than it solves. As they fight for their relationship and their careers, they discover that sometimes, the only way to truly be free is to let go.

Pairing: idol!Yoongi x idol!OC

Warnings: nsfw, alcoholism, cheating, depression, anxiety, Yoongi goes through a bisexy ho phase, Yoongi is also in his alcoholic phase, post-military BTS

Previous chapter | Next chapter | Masterlist

Ch. 7: Drunk

The guys’ time in Vegas has flown by and it’s finally their last night there. Everyone is a little extra nervous because tonight’s show is being streamed live. Nothing has changed with Yoongi. Jin couldn’t convince him to talk to Hyeri. No one could keep him from sneaking drinks. And now they’re all getting ready to go on stage with Yoongi already further out of his mind than any of them realize.

Hyeri hasn’t tried talking to Yoongi since the voicemail she left him. She hasn’t tried sending him messages or anything. Truthfully, she’s been far too depressed to talk to anyone or do anything. She claimed illness so she could give herself a couple of days without having to worry about her schedule. However that just gave her the freedom to be able to watch the guys’ concert online. As much as she knows it’ll hurt to see Yoongi dancing across the stage, likely not thinking anything of her, she still can’t help it. She misses him so bad.

The show starts and the first time the camera cuts to Yoongi’s face, Hyeri’s heart drops. He looks awful. The man up there standing in his place is only a soulless shell and she can tell.

“My Yoongi,” she says with tears rolling down her cheeks. “You’re not ok.”

The entire show she notices everything he does that proves he’s not himself. He’s smiling as the crowd cheers his name, but his eyes are dark and sunken. He jumps around with Jimin to the crowd’s delight, but his movements are stiff and emotionless. The man on the stage is not her Yoongi. She doesn’t know who that man is.

The tightness in her chest only worsens as the show goes on. When Yoongi gives his ending ments he doesn’t even sound like himself. Hyeri is overwhelmed with guilt watching a stranger parading around as the love of her life. She can see what he meant when he said that he’s no longer the person she fell in love with. She doesn’t know who this person is and it’s killing her inside.

Yoongi feels on top of the world. Sure everyone has been watching him closely, but they can’t be everywhere all of the time. The love he feels when he’s on stage is incredible and the buzz he feels from a few hidden drinks has him on a cloud.

Not hearing from Hyeri has been a relief. He doesn’t have constant reminders of her every time he looks at his phone to see another message from her.

So why does he still feel like he needs to be as far away from himself as possible? So far away from himself that he has a few more drinks after the show. When everyone is focused on the maknae line chaos on Weverse Live, Yoongi slips out of his room undetected. It’s his last night in Vegas and he wants to have some fun. He starts with a quick drink at the hotel bar, then heads out to see what catches his eye.

It’s like deja vu. He finds a place. Orders a drink. Then people watches from a table in the back. After a few drinks he heads down to another bar and does the same. His legs barely carry him to the third bar, but he still orders a drink anyway.

Every time he thinks of Hyeri and how for some reason it hurts that she hasn’t contacted him again, he has another drink. He’s determined to not be Yoongi tonight. Yoongi’s emotions are much too strong and he doesn’t want to deal with any of that. He drinks more then stumbles his way out of the bar in search of another.

After the 5th bar he finds himself in another familiar situation. In the back of a stranger’s car getting his dick sucked as Austin while Yoongi is far gone from reality.

She said her name was Mary. Maybe it was Marcia. Something with an M that he won’t remember in the morning. All he knows right now is that her mouth feels better around him than anyone else’s has so far during the tour. When she hums it’s like a million nerves in his body are being hit at once and brings out a deep breathy groan. He’s once again on that cloud and never wants to get off.

It’s a miracle he’s able to make it back to his hotel room unnoticed. He throws himself in the bed and passes out as Austin.

When he wakes he’s Yoongi again and terribly hungover. Again. He doesn’t have much time before they leave for their flight to LA, so he takes some medicine and a quick shower to freshen up a little.

No one knows where Yoongi was last night, and Jin is the only one who knew Yoongi wasn’t in his room. He went by to check on Yoongi, only to discover he wasn’t there. He had to come up with an excuse to get the key to Yoongi’s room from one of their managers so he could make sure Yoongi wasn’t in need of help. To his surprise and disappointment, he saw that Yoongi wasn’t there. He was afraid to say anything so he didn’t. He’s relieved that Yoongi makes it for their flight in the morning, and he decides maybe it’s ok to not say anything this time.

Los Angeles holds a lot of memories for the guys. Yoongi always loves it here. The food, the people, the overall vibes are great. So naturally, he slips back into the same routine. Sneaking drinks during the day and sneaking out to bars at night. For some reason he felt freer and happier in LA, so he got wilder. It no longer matters if he’s angry at himself for thinking about Hyeri, or if he’s actually enjoying himself. It’s all blended together at this point.

Hyeri hasn’t gotten much sleep or food since she watched the concert and saw just how bad Yoongi looked. She blames herself for it all and she isn’t sure how she can fix things between them. He wasn’t himself and she’s been taking it very hard.

She’s skipped out on more of her schedule claiming to still be sick. She’s gotten an outpouring of support and well wishes from fans, but she only wants to hear from Yoongi. That’s the only cure for this sickness.

She continues following the guys tour schedule and browsing socials for anything new. Not that she’s expecting something, but she can’t help her need to see Yoongi any way she can. It’s too bad that now when she sees Yoongi he looks like a stranger.

She can’t eat or sleep, but she can’t talk to him. He wouldn’t answer if she tried. It makes her restless because she wants to do something but she doesn’t know what she could do. So she decides to go for a drive to clear her mind.

Somehow she manages to pull herself out of bed and get in her car at a little after 2 am. She has no destination in mind, she only wants to clear her head. The only problem is that she’s incredibly fatigued from days of little rest and food. She decides it’s best for her to stay close to home, so she simply drives around within a 5 mile radius of home.

On her third lap around the area she begins to struggle to stay awake. She drifts off for a second then is jolted back awake by the sound of her passenger side tires scraping the curb.

“Shit,” she whispers to herself.

She stops at a red light and rubs her eyes. She’ll just make two more turns to go back home. She makes the first turn. The second is a tight one, but she narrowly makes it before the light turns red. All she has to do is continue straight to get back home, but she can’t stop from dozing off once again and is jolted awake from the feeling of her car ramming into the curb and up on the sidewalk. Before she can react her car goes flying into a stoplight pole.

The airbags immediately deploy knocking her head backwards and bouncing it off the headrest. She begins seeing stars and she can’t seem to comprehend what’s going on around her. It’s silent at first. And then it sounds chaotic. Then there’s silence and darkness again. Then another round of chaos surrounding her. She isn’t sure what’s happening anymore, all she knows is that whatever is happening, she’s not in control of any of it.

The three shows in LA came and went just as fast as the shows in Vegas. Yoongi has been getting much more loose these few days and the rest of the group are afraid he may not make it through much more of the tour at this rate. More drinking, more sneaking out, more blowjobs from strangers.

During the final show, Yoongi slipped and fell on his hip. He was already so drunk by then that it didn’t phase him at all. He laughed it off telling the guys and fans that he was ok. After the show he really started to feel it. He went back to his room for a drink but he could still feel the ache in his hip. He had another drink but it still couldn’t ease his discomfort.

When he thought all was clear, he slipped out of his room and went out to a nearby bar. He has a drink and takes a seat trying to leave the pain plaguing his body. He told Hoseok not to run around with the maknaes, but he went and did it himself with the same result.

While he’s drinking and people watching, a woman approaches him. She has a little small talk with him and orders another round of drinks. She tells him her name is Chelsea. Not that it matters to him because he knows he’ll forget in the morning. He, of course, tells her his name is Austin and that this is his last night in town.

They chat a little longer. Then they begin flirting. She offers to take him back to his hotel and he agrees. Yoongi would never, but Austin doesn’t care. He’s so far gone that he doesn’t even notice that he’s limping pretty bad from his fall. When he gets in her car she hands him a piece of gummy candy.

“Here,” she says. “It’ll help you with the pain.” She gestures to his hip.

“What is it?” He asks taking the candy and looking it over through his blurry vision.

“A pain killer,” she winks. “Try it out.”

Without a second thought Yoongi pops the candy in his mouth and chews it up. It’s a sweet strawberry flavor which he feels pairs well with the lingering taste of tequila in his mouth. Chelsea smiles then takes off for the hotel.

By the time they arrive, Yoongi has no idea where he is. The entire ride he felt like he was floating through a wormhole. Everything around him feels unreal.

“What kind of candy was that?” Yoongi manages to ask.

“Only LA’s finest edible,” she smiles. “Doesn’t it make your pain go away?”

“Yeah,” he whispers.

He’s never been high before. He never would have even tried. But he’s not himself. He’s not Yoongi who wouldn’t willingly take something from a stranger and eat it not knowing what it is exactly. He’s Austin who doesn’t care about anything. He’s Austin who once again is locking lips with a stranger.

But then he sees her. In his mind, drunk and high as fuck, he sees her. How dare she sneak into his mind like this. Hyeri hasn’t tried to talk to him since Vegas, why is she on his mind right now? He isn’t sure what to do. Being drunk is one thing, but he’s never experienced being high before. He has no idea how to deal with these effects. All he knows is the sight of Hyeri’s face stained with tears has infiltrated his mind and he needs to make it stop. He sees her face. He feels her pain. It’s like he can physically feel her presence.

“Help,” she says.

“Huh?” Yoongi says taken aback by Hyeri speaking to him suddenly.

“I said do you need help?”

Yoongi has a flash of clarity and remembers he’s in the car with a stranger named Samantha. Or maybe it was Donna. He isn’t sure, but it doesn’t matter.

“Um,” he hesitates trying to regain some sense of coherency.

“Come on,” Chelsea says turning off her car. “What room are you in? I’ll help you get there.”

He thinks he’ll be fine. He can’t share his room number with anyone. He knows where the elevator is, he shouldn’t have a problem getting there.

“728,” he slurs. It’s clear his mind and mouth are not on the same page.

As she helps him to the elevator and they make their way up he starts to think maybe it’s not so bad. She’s just helping him to his room and while he’s mad that he mindlessly gave her his room number, she’s actually a big help right now because he actually would not have made it up on his own. She gets him to his room, helps fish his room key out of his pocket, and she gets him to the bed.

He has no idea what’s happening around him. All he can see is the ceiling spinning above him and the sound of Hyeri’s cries echoing through his head. Why is she on his mind? He hates it, but he’s so intoxicated that he can’t even move. All he can do is lay there and endure the pain of seeing her face and hearing her voice swirl around his mind.

“You’re a fucking mess.”

He agrees. He’s a big fucking mess and it’s because of Hyeri. It’s because he loves her so much it hurts. He’s a weak fool.

“How much do you drink, Austin?”

Hyeri shouldn’t know anything about Austin. Austin should have never existed, but there’s no changing the things he’s already done. He felt she didn’t care about him and his feelings for her so he created the persona of someone that would do all the things Yoongi wouldn’t do. Someone who would live free and do whatever he wants because fuck love. Fuck feelings. Fuck being vulnerable. Fuck Hyeri.

He loves her so fucking much.

“You’re so fucked up you can’t even get it up.”

If Hyeri ever learned of the things he’s done as Austin he may never be able to forgive himself. Sure, this was his way of revenge. He’s been hurting and he wanted to let go of it all and simply be free. But this isn’t him. This isn’t Yoongi. This is someone else that Hyeri should never know about. Someone he shouldn’t have become in the first place.

“At least this wasn’t a total bust. Good luck with whatever shit you’re going through.”

If she hadn’t hurt him so bad he wouldn’t be so dead set on hurting her back. He’s turned into someone he doesn’t recognize all because he can’t handle the hurt. He wants her to feel that, but at the same time he never wants her to hurt. He would do anything to make sure she doesn’t hurt.

The moment Namjoon wakes up in the morning he rushes straight for Yoongi’s room. He went to check on him last night but he wasn’t there. He didn’t want to cause panic so he was hoping Yoongi would be back in the morning. He got Yoongi’s key from a manager earlier in their stay in LA knowing one of them would probably need it considering Yoongi’s rapidly declining condition.

The good news: Yoongi is in his room. The bad news: it looks like his room has been ransacked.

“Hyung!” Namjoon shouts trying to shake Yoongi awake.

Yoongi groans incoherently. Namjoon looks him over to make sure he doesn’t appear to be hurt. He looks ok physically so Namjoon shakes him again.

“Hyung! Wake up!” Namjoon shouts. “What the hell happened last night?”

Yoongi groans again still stuck in a haze. Before Namjoon can shake him some more, there’s a knock at the door. He checks the peephole then quickly opens the door and pulls Taehyung inside when he realizes it’s not someone else.

“Help me get him to the shower,” Namjoon says grabbing one of Yoongi’s arms.

“What happened?” Taehyung asks taking Yoongi’s other arm while observing the complete mess in the room.

“I don’t know,” Namjoon says removing Yoongi’s shirt.

Yoongi groans again. He can feel himself being undressed but he has no idea what’s actually going on. He’s still drunk and a little high from last night. He doesn’t know it’s only been 4 hours since he passed out. He doesn’t know the edible he had last night was a strong one. Certainly much too strong for a casual marijuana user, which means it’s 10 times stronger for Yoongi who’s never used before in his life.

Namjoon and Taehyung manage to get Yoongi down to his boxers and moved to the shower. They sit him on the floor then look at each other wondering what to do now.

Taehyung came by because he was afraid Yoongi would need supervision once he heard the news. He didn’t expect to come into the scene he was faced with when he arrived. Knowing what he saw when he found Yoongi getting a blow job behind the restaurant, he realized things are much worse than he thought.

“What are you doing here?” Namjoon asks while turning the cold water on in hopes it will wake Yoongi.

“I wanted to check on him after I saw this.” Taehyung pulls out his phone and shows Namjoon an article.

ACTRESS RAINBOW INJURED IN CAR ACCIDENT

The article has very little information, only that Hyeri was in an accident late at night and was taken to the hospital. Details of her condition are unknown but as far as anyone seems to know, she’s still in the hospital being treated.

“Shit,” Namjoon says looking over at Yoongi on the shower floor still in a daze as the water hits every part of his body. “I don’t think he knows anything yet. He looks like he’s been out of it for a while. Do you think…he was drugged?”

Taehyung has another flashback to the restaurant and frowns.

“What?” Namjoon asks noticing his change in expression.

“Hyung,” Taehyung sighs pulling Namjoon to the bed and out of Yoongi’s earshot. “You know that night we were at the restaurant in Vegas and he disappeared for a while?”

Namjoon nods suddenly remembering that Taehyung went to look for him but never said where he was.

“He wasn’t in the bathroom, he was outside,” Taehyung whispers. “He was…someone else was…oh my god,” he pauses having a sudden realization. “What if that was a prostitute?”

“A prosti-what??” Namjoon asks. “What are you talking about??”

“He was behind the restaurant getting his dick sucked!” Taehyung blurts. “Oh my god, hyung what if he got a prostitute??”

“How?” Namjoon looks over his shoulder to see Yoongi’s head still swaying deliriously under the shower water. “How would he suddenly find a prostitute in the back of the restaurant when he was with us the whole time?”

“I don’t know, but I know I saw someone on their knees and hyung was making those…sounds,” he says cringing at the memory.

“Ok…We’ll get you some counseling later,” Namjoon says. “We need to figure out what happened last night first. We have to make sure he makes our flight.”

Taehyung nods and begins looking around the room. Yoongi’s suitcase is wide open and his clothes have been tossed around. It definitely looks like someone was looking for something.

From what Namjoon can tell, none of Yoongi’s recording equipment has been taken. Not even his laptop. That’s a relief until he sees Yoongi’s wallet. Yoongi always has cash on hand when they travel and Namjoon knows for a fact that he had at least $300 leftover after the show last night because Yoongi was asking him what he should do with it on their final night so he wouldn’t have to worry about exchanging it when they head to London.

Namjoon isn’t sure what’s worse, the possibility that Yoongi spent $300 on alcohol in one night, or the thought that someone was in Yoongi’s room and robbed him. The latter seems much more likely when Namjoon notices Yoongi’s Black card missing.

Yoongi doesn’t know what’s going on, but he’s freezing. His head is throbbing, his mouth is dry, and he can hardly hear anything. He opens his mouth wide trying to find a way to generate at least a little saliva, but then his mouth fills up with water. He gasps in surprise and inhales a bit of water. He’s immediately thrust back into reality as he starts coughing heavily.

“Hyung!”

Namjoon and Taehyung run to the shower and turn the water off.

“Are you ok?” Namjoon asks patting him on the back as he continues coughing and heaving.

It takes a moment for Yoongi to stop coughing and catch his breath. He finally looks up to realize he’s on the floor of the shower with Namjoon and Taehyung standing over him with deeply worried faces.

“Yeah,” Yoongi coughs out.

“Bullshit,” Namjoon says no longer willing to let any more of Yoongi’s lies pass. “What the fuck happened last night? Where did you go after the show?”

“I don’t know,” Yoongi groans. “My head hurts.”

“Yeah no shit,” Namjoon says helping him to his feet.

Taehyung wraps a towel around Yoongi and they help him to the bed. Yoongi lays flat on his back still trying to find his life, but also knowing he really messed up now. He never wanted the members to see him like this.

“Did you have a prostitute in here?” Taehyung asks boldly.

“Huh?” Yoongi mumbles. He thinks a moment trying to figure out what all happened last night. “No…I don’t know who it was. I never know who it is.”

“What??” Namjoon exclaims.

“Names aren’t important.”

“For fucks sake, hyung! Whoever it was robbed you!”

“What??” Yoongi tries to sit up but he can’t.

“Did you spend that cash?”

“No. Not yet.” He actually decided he would use that money to sneak a few bottles of duty free alcohol at the airport so he hadn’t planned to touch it last night.

“Then they took your money and your Black card!”

“Fuck,” Yoongi groans.

“Do you know anything about last night?”

He doesn’t. He knows he went out for drinks. He knows he went to more than one place but he’s not sure which places or how many. He knows he met someone, Lindsay, maybe it was Ruby. He hasn’t a clue.

“Fuck,” he groans again. Suddenly he remembers why his mouth is so dry. “She gave me an edible.”

“What the fuck?” Namjoon is in complete disbelief. “So you got drunk and high? With a stranger whose name you can’t even remember?! Are you fucking crazy?!?”

“Hyung,” Taehyung says softly, choosing to take a different approach. “Hyeri is in the hospital. She got into a car accident.”

“What?!” Yoongi says swiftly sitting up. Hearing those words sobered him up instantly. His heart is racing and he’s too worried to even be mad at himself for how much he still cares for her.

[lola-babylon]

Running the numbers on Brendon, Ryan, and owning the Panic! at the Disco legacy

Some people are a bit upset that Brendon Urie continued performing as PATD after Jon & Ryan left, or after Spencer & Dallon left. One of the primary criticisms you see floating around is that, by using the Panic name for his solo career from 2015-2023. Brendon was profiting off of Ryan's legacy as the main songwriter on the early albums.

Let's dig into that, especially the "profit" bit.

I've seen jokes about Ryan Ross working retail now cause he's broke. We don't know what Ryan does with his days and it's none of our business unless he chooses to share that information publicly, but AFYCSO alone has been certified 4x Platinum in the US, having sold 4 million copies. Ryan, being the main songwriter on the album, would one hopes receive a decent income stream for the royalties and has no need to work a job he doesn't want to pay the bills (recording contracts are usually a Kafkaesque nightmare, but hopefully they had a decent contract where the artists get a fair share of royalties, that it isn't all chewed up by record companies).

But if you look at the album sales over time, this is where it gets interesting.

(well, interesting to a stats and facts wonk)

Here's the Recording Industry of America's certification record for AFYCSO - you can check for yourself here

The album went platinum, meaning sales of a million copies, in 2006, a year after it was released. It took another 9 years for the album to double that figure, selling 2 million copies by 2015 and achieving 2x platinum. But then things took off, with AFYCSO reaching 4 million sales by June 2023 and the resulting 4x platinum certification.

But what stands out here is this - AFYCSO was released in 2005. And fully half of all sales of AFYCSO took place after 2015.

2015 was the year that Panic became a solo project of Brendon Urie's. It also marked the start of the period of some of the band's highest sales since the early days, including their first number one charting album, a second number one album, and (Jebus, please save us from) the single "High Hopes". And Brendon toured extensively - musicians used to tour to encourage people to buy their albums; now that most music is digital musicians rely touring as their largest source of income, which is one of the reasons why a ticket to see Led Zeppelin on their 1975 U.S. tour cost $31 adjusted for inflation to 2023 dollars, but seeing any decently sized musical act in concert these days will set you back well over $100 and that's just for starters.

(I told you I was a stats wonk).

Anyway, through all that work, Brendon was using the Panic name, sure. Was he entitled to? That's not my point here. What he was doing was keeping the Panic name in the public mind, entertaining old fans and winning new ones (not my thing, but again that's not my point) and in those years, those fans purchased 2 million copies of AFYCSO, and as the main songwriter on the album Ryan has received the largest share of the royalties from those sales. Ryan earned and was entitled to that money, of course, but would AFYCSO have sold two million copies between 2015 and 2023 if Brendon had retired the Panic name and continued as a solo artist?

Let's be realistic. No.

When people heard High Hopes or any of the other post split music, they were hearing a Panic at the Disco song. If they liked it, they'd look up the artist Panic at the Disco, find the band's earlier work, and buy/stream it. If they'd heard High Hopes as a Brendon Urie song, and looked up the artist Brendon Urie, is it likely they'd have followed the bread crumb trail, learned about this now defunct band called Panic at the Disco Brendon used to be in, and bought that band's stuff too?

We could go back to 2004/2005 and debate whether Panic would have made it as big as they did back then without Ryan's songwriting skills and determined online hustling of the band. Or without Brendon's vocals and stage presence, or Spencer's creative vision for their image and live performances. Or without that they were all so young, they were just crazy brave enough to put their all into the band when if they'd been only a few years older, they might have been worried about the future enough to stay in or go to college, or train as a hairdresser or whatever. Or for that matter whether they had all that, and the right sound at the right time, and made the right connections, oh and they weren't exactly bad looking. There's so many reasons bands do or don't make it. Just talent is never enough. Trying to work out which parts of Panic's early success were due to the respective talents of Ryan, Spencer, and/or Brendon nearly 20 years on is like trying to unscramble an egg (even Brent paid a role, through the loans his parents provided to help pay for the band's practice space and van for the early tours). But it's unrealistic to say Panic was a success solely because of Ryan or that Brendon trampled all over that to get to the top solo. Either way....

Brendon Urie continuing as Panic has been, financially, very benefical for Ryan. Brendon continuing with the Panic name has meant AFYCSO was from 2015-2023 the first album of a very successful currently touring act, and not a footnote to Brendon Urie's career from his now defunct first band (I don't see it that way at all - this post is about album sales and money, not artistic integrity). And Ryan has received the royalties from albums that would never have been sold if PATD officially disbanded in 2009 or 2013 or whatever.

And whilst Ryan has been at home restoring antique cuckoo clocks or whatever he chooses to do, Brendon's been missing his family, home, and dogs, getting up at 4am to catch flights, living out of suitacses, answering inane interview questions, sleeping on tour buses and wondering what country he's in today - and, indirectly, making Ryan money. If Ryan only cared about money he probably would have continued on with Panic past 2009, but I'm sure the royalties he's received since 2015 haven't been a burden either. I'm not saying Ryan owes Brendon anything, he doesn't, and Brendon only lived that life because he loved it, or thought the performing bit made it all worth it (along with making a bunch of money for himself).

This post has focused on AFYCSO, though of course Ryan also gets royalties from Pretty. Odd, which has had a long overdue reappraisal from audiences who realise it's really fucking good. (I'll use the correct punctuation this once, but there was no way I was going to add an exclamation point every time I typed the word panic). Anyway, crunching the numbers on one album was enough. But Brendon didn't profit off of Ryan's legacy by continuing as Panic. It's been very profitable for them both.

[qpenpals]

First of all, support Shubble and support all victims (which is a statement that while said a lot, seems not be followed as frequently, however i hope those who read this abide by it)

Second, I don’t support wilbur soot/william gold, and I don’t think that anyone should after this.

Third, while this situation is not about me, i have feelings and opinions about it that i would like to share, but even if you don’t read anymore,

Please watch shelby’s vod, and maybe try checking her content out, because while i don’t frequently watch her, i enjoy her streams and maybe you will too! her new hardcore series sounds great :)

This is quite long, but honestly this is kind of just for me to collect my thoughts, however if you read to the end thank you<3 im touched :)

ALSO ABUSE TRIGGER WARNING

Alright, so I have loved wilbur soot’s content for a very long time, 4 years or so. I watched the streams and listened to his music from the start. His content is entwined with many of my fond memories.

Earlier today, I had a breakdown over this whole situation, because, as I’ve been quite busy with school, my job, and other assorted things in my life, I found out about this morning. I had woken from a nightmare about my previous abuser. Who i will be talking about a lot more of as they really impacted my views on this situation.

However this nightmare had left me in a fragile mood, my girlfriend was still sleeping and i didn’t want to wake her, so to comfort myself i went to read one of my bookmarked fanfictions, this fanfiction, while i dont remember the title is one that i’ve found comforting for a very long time, so much so that when im stressed my partner has it saved to send to me so i can calm down.

It was a fanfiction about quackity and tubbo, wilbur soot was mentioned maybe 5 times, and the author had deleted it.

This caused me to try and find out why, so i went to their page and they had posted a temporary fic explaining what had been going on.

My first reaction had been disbelief, I then went to research everything. It was a lot to process.

I watched shelby’s vod. Before this i had mainly been disconnected from what i had seen, taking it it but not with any of my own feelings or thoughts really, just processing.

Shelby’s situation hits really hard for me because a lot of it mirrors my own abusive relationship of a few years ago. The wording Wilbur used against her, sounds like what my old partner would use against me. His actions, such as her having to clean and taking care of food, and amenities, were things i had to experience.

Abuse TW:

My old partner would physically abuse me through biting as well, he would claim that he just liked knowing i was his, and yet, like shubble, if i ever used our safe word, which happened so fucking often, he either wouldn’t listen, bite down harder on my neck, or fucking smile at me before letting go.

This got to the point that multiple times he had drawn blood from my neck, that i still have scars from today. And as i watch Shubble talk about her story which is ever so close to mine, I wonder that if I had watched this before, maybe i wouldn’t have stayed in that relationship.

I proceeded to stay in this relationship for 2 years before i realized how much harm he was doing to me, because i truly believed he loved me, because of all the lovebombing he would do.

End of Abuse TW:

And yet i felt pain aside from sympathy or memories, when learning of this, as the content Wilbur had put out had actually helped me out of this relationship, his music was pretty much all i listened to the months of healing after i got out and it helped, the art is good, and yet the author is one i cannot respect nor support in anyway now that i am aware.

i’d suggest watching this tiktok by @lasmanburg that really explains my thoughts and feelings on this

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTL1tb5Wg/

Right back to the content. I don’t believe that we should throw it all away, i don’t think that people should be deleting their art, fanfiction, or anything based on Wilbur. Because in the end it’s all art that we have created and interpreted and though the man who inspired it is horrible, all that has been made does not reflect his actions, but instead love and creativity from vast multifaceted community.

One can continue their writing and work because they are the ones creating it, not him, and besides most interpretations of him stray quite far from the source anyways

I think that one can continue to engage in his content as long as one does not directly support him, such as pirating his music, but personally at least right now listening to his music which brought me so much comfort-makes me feel sick. So think i’ll be taking a step back.

I don’t really know how to end this, i just needed to get my thoughts out honestly. I have therapy in an hour. I hope all of you who’ve made it to the end have a wonderful day and drink some water. I wish shelby well, and i’m glad she has been able to share this situation. And with that, I must now leave :)

[e-dubbc11]

Never Again Pt. 3

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Brock Rumlow x F! Reader

Warnings: Some swear words, alluding to smexy time, violence, some fluff

Word Count: 3.9k-ish

Summary: Part 3 of 3. You’ve been staying with Brock for about 2 weeks since your ex tracked you down, and you’re trying to figure out what to do next because it’s only a matter of time before he finds you again.

Part 1

Part 2

A/N: I had such a good time writing this series, and I appreciate the 6 of you that have read it. 🤣 I’m kidding, I’m kidding 😆 It won’t deter me from writing for Brock again, he’s fun to write for, plus have you seen him? 🥵 I had a hell of a time figuring out how to end this, it was giving me some problems but I hope you like it! ♥️ Oh and I have an ask for Billy that should be out REAL soon! Ok I’ll stop.

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The dream you were having wasn’t exactly exciting. The dripping candles in the middle of the table, the crisp white tablecloth, and the dim lights of the restaurant were all very romantic.

Brock looked very handsome in a suit, he wasn’t wearing a tie but it didn’t suit him anyway, the top buttons undone, and he was taking a sip of his whiskey.

“What’s so funny, doll?” He asked.

You continued to chuckle. “I don’t know why you brought me here, Rumlow. You look so uncomfortable right now.”

“Well I thought I’d take you somewhere nice for our first date. You don’t like it?” He asked.

You continued to smile. “Oh I like it fine, clearly you don’t though.” You said, taking a sip of your red wine.

“But it’s not for me, it’s for you.” He said.

You reached across the table to touch his hand. “Well it’s very sweet of you, Brock but I would have been happy with bar food and a cold beer.” You said.

He looked down at your hand as your fingers brushed against his knuckles and brought his gaze up to meet yours. “I’ll remember that for next time, sweetheart.”

This dream was a lot different than the nightmares you had been having. Seeing Danny’s fist coming straight for your face, you could almost feel his fingers squeezing your upper arms, and the pain in your side when he pushed you into the bookcase. Everything felt so real, like the tears streaming down your face as you begged him to stop.

From the violence to all of the apologies, they played on a loop in your mind. You remembered all of the flowers and gifts he brought you and when you thought about it now, you felt so stupid for taking him back all of those times.

Back then, you felt weak, defeated, and worthless but you had become strong enough to leave, not take it anymore and for the first time in your life, you felt strong and in control of how you wanted to live your life.

It had been a long couple of weeks. The tension between you and Brock finally coming to a head earlier tonight and letting go of that tension that sparring couldn’t get rid of. He fucked that tension right out of you and you couldn’t remember the last time you had been that calm or relaxed.

The man was absolutely crazy about you.

You tried to make tea after the shower but as soon as Brock saw your nightshirt creep up to reveal your panties reaching for the box of tea, he was all over you.

The loud sinful noises he continued to pull from you over and over again echoed inside his apartment, you were starting to feel bad for his neighbors for having to listen to it all.

You felt like your entire body was trembling from overstimulation coming down from your high but you managed to ask him, “I may have a hard time walkin’ tomorrow. How much tension were you holding onto, anyway?”

“I’ll admit, at first I didn’t wanna like you but I hated seeing those marks on you, that bruise around your eye made my blood boil and to see how determined you were to learn because you didn’t wanna be afraid anymore. You impressed me, sweetheart and that ain’t easy to do.” He had said.

You imagined that no one else really saw the sweet side of Brock that you had witnessed the past two weeks. The moment he came home with supplies for Peanut, you knew that he was soft but only a little.

You had even caught him petting the cat a couple of times.

“Were you just petting Peanut?” You asked, the corner of your mouth curled up revealing half a smile.

He turned to face you and even though he was caught, he denied it.

“No!” He said, emphatically.

“Because from here, it looked like you were scratching him behind his ears.” You had said, trying to control your laughter.

“Well I wasn’t.” He said.

“Ok, then why is he rubbing up against you and purring? He doesn’t do that unless you pet him first.”

“I dunno.” His gaze aimed at the floor.

You walked over to him slowly, he was facing away from you. Snaking your arms around his waist you pulled him flush to your chest, pushed yourself up on your toes and kissed him on the cheek.

“Whatever you say, Rumlow.”

Falling asleep in an unfamiliar location was difficult but being able to dream and remember that dream was against all odds but you had managed to do both sleeping next to Brock.

You hummed against his chest as he laced his fingers with yours, trying to keep your eyes open but your eyelids just became heavier and heavier.

“So I’m guessing I don’t have to sleep on the couch anymore?” You joked.

You felt him smile against the top of your head. “Not unless you want to, doll.”

“Well I don’t want to.” You said.

He rolled on top of you, his hips in between your legs, and gazed at you with his warm golden eyes. “I don’t want you to either. Go to sleep, sweetheart.” He said, his voice sounding extra raspy as he swept a stray hair away from your face and kissed your forehead.

As soon as he said that, your eyes closed and were too heavy to open again. It felt like you had just closed your eyes when you felt the hand clamp over your mouth. Your eyes shot open and struggled for a brief second when you heard Brock’s voice.

“It’s just me, doll. It’s just me. I need you to be quiet, do exactly as I say and keep calm for me, can you do that?”

You nodded slowly as you tried to adjust your eyes to the darkness.

“Someone’s here.” He whispered in your ear.

Brock slowly moved his hand away from your mouth, reached under the bed and pulled out one of his guns. You started to get out of bed when he stopped you, whisper yelling at you to stay put even after you offered to help.

“Stay there, do NOT move!” He whispered again.

You nodded again.

Carefully, he moved over toward the bedroom door, you could see the faint warm glow of the kitchen night light and then he was gone.

Suddenly, you heard a crash, followed by a struggle and incoherent yelling before you clearly heard a voice yell, “RUMLOW!!! IT’S ME! IT’S JACK…ROLLINS!!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!! I could have shot you, asshole!” Brock yelled.

He called out to you from the other room. “It’s alright, y/n!”

Quickly, you threw on some sweats and walked out into the other room and saw a tall angry looking man standing next to Brock.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here, Jack?! And how did you get in here anyway?!” He asked and then glanced in your direction. “Oh, y/n…this is Jack Rollins. We work together…Jack, this is y/n…we, uh, sleep together.”

Warmth spread across your cheeks, you were flushed with embarrassment as you covered your eyes and reached out to shake Jack’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Jack.” You said.

“Likewise.” Said Jack before turning back to Brock. “Your phone was off and Fury needs us for something, he didn’t say what. And I still had your key from when you were away and you wanted me to water your plants.”

You started to chuckle and bit down on your thumb. “You don’t have any plants, Brock.”

“Not anymore, thanks to this guy!” He said with a raised voice.

You continued to laugh and finally took a good look around. “Well you two made a hell of a mess, didn’t ya?” You said.

“He’s lucky I didn’t fuckin’ shoot him. I should shoot him anyway just for scaring you.” Brock said in a disappointing tone, glaring at Jack. “Lemme just get my stuff, hang on. Will you help me, doll?”

“Sure.” You replied, following him to the bedroom. “Where’s the bag with all of your--?”

Brock turned, pulled you in flush to his chest as his lips crashed against yours. His lips parted and his tongue glided against yours making it difficult to catch your breath.

His touches sent tremors of pleasure down your spine. Your breath was caught in your throat and you could only let out a muffled gasp as he kissed up and down your neck and throat.

“Not that I mind but what is all this for?” You asked, gently tugging on his hair.

He pulled back to look at you. “Just sayin’ see ya later.”

“Oh, ok.” You said with a wink.

“I want you to keep this with you.” He said, placing the gun in your hand. “I’ll let you know how long I’ll be and when I’ll be back, hopefully it won’t take too long.”

Jack called out from the other room. “Come on Rumlow, we gotta go! Fury’s gonna be pissed!”

“I’ll clean up the mess you two made.” You said with a warm smile.

He smiled back. “I’m sorry sweetheart, but when Fury calls, I gotta answer.”

“Are you ever gonna tell me what you do?” You asked in a joking tone.

He kissed the tip of your nose and said, “Maybe.”

“I gotta find Peanut, you two probably scared the shit outta him…be safe, baby.” You said, gently pressing your lips to his.

Brock turned and walked out of the bedroom, leaving you alone for you weren’t sure how long. “I’ll see you soon, doll.”

Before they closed the door behind them, you heard Jack say, “Dude, she is super-hot, does she have any single friends?”

His comment caused a smile to stretch across your lips and you smiled even bigger when you heard Brock’s response. “No, let’s go…you wrecked my house. Get out, now!”

The door closed behind them and you were alone with a mess to clean up and a cat to find.

**********

You decided to wait until the next day to clean up the mess Jack and Brock made. It was late so you stuck the gun under the bed next to you and tried to get some sleep.

You did end up finding Peanut and he slept in the chair Brock had in the bedroom, but it was a little lonely sleeping by yourself.

The next day was spent cleaning up and you even went further cleaning his entire place which wasn’t a complete disaster considering he lived alone.

Brock texted to say he would be back later that night so after you had finished cleaning, you spent the day cooking and even baked some cookies.

You did remember to bring the gun with you to every room you went into even while you were taking a shower.

As you sat on the couch watching a movie, your mind wandered and you were lost in a daze thinking about last night, thinking about Brock touching you, kissing you, and leaving a trail of love bites that only he could see. Goosebumps peppered your skin as you clenched your aching thighs together thinking about it all.

You wanted him home.

Three quick raps on the door snapped you out of your daydream. Without thinking, you walked over to the door and threw it open, as you said, “Did you forget your keys, baby?”

Standing in the doorway was Danny. You tried to slam the door shut but he pushed his way through.

“Hey beautiful. You shouldn’t open the door for strangers.”

You pulled the gun Brock gave you and aimed it between his eyes. “Get outta here, Danny and I won’t have to shoot you.”

Just then, Peanut jumped onto the counter and started meowing.

“Ah, there he is.” Said Danny, walking over toward him.

He leaned down to give him a pet and Peanut swiped at his face, scratching him above the eye. Danny cried out in pain and touched the cut the cat just gave him.

“I told you he never liked you.” You said with a slightly wicked smile, still pointing the gun at him. “Now, get out!”

“You just gonna shoot me, y/n? You don’t wanna try and put those fighting skills to the test? You got lucky last time, knocking me out with the freezer door. Put the gun down, lemme see what you can actually do.”

The day you met Brock, you remembered what he said to you before your first training session. “Leave those bruises uncovered. I want you to take one more look at them because after I’m done with you, those will be the last set of bruises he’ll ever give you.”

You switched the safety on and set the gun on the kitchen counter behind you.

Danny was never going to stop coming after you, he was never going to leave you alone, and you realized that this has to end. It has to end tonight, you didn’t want to have to look over your shoulder anymore when you walked down the street or wonder if he was going to show up at your door again.

You were tired of running and you were going to make him leave.

Brock said you were strong, one of the strongest people he’s ever trained and you didn’t want to let him down or more importantly, let yourself down.

He knew you were very capable of taking down someone larger than you, and that fierce look you had in your eyes when you kicked Brock’s legs out from underneath him.

It excited you and gave you the confidence you desperately needed and the confidence Brock was trying to give you every time you trained together. Rage burned throughout your body, it felt like white hot fire and something inside you just snapped.

You took two steps toward him, took a swing and landed a punch to the nose. Danny’s eyes began to water and his nose started to bleed. His only response was to laugh and when he was done laughing, he said, “Now that’s more like it.”

**********

While Jack was driving back to the apartment, the feeling Brock had in the pit of his stomach was a feeling of uneasiness like there was something wrong back at home. He didn’t want to leave you even just for the day he was gone, not because he knew you couldn’t take care of yourself but because he…missed you.

He had grown to care for you in the past six months and even more so in the past two weeks since you had been staying with him.

“Drive faster, Jack.” Brock said sharply. He had a piercing dryness in his throat which made it difficult for him to swallow.

“I’m goin’ as fast as I can, I’m sure she’s fine.” Jack replied.

Softy and under his breath, Brock said, “I hope so.”

He remembered the day he met you, the pale greenish-yellow bruise on the top of your cheekbone, and the bruises around the tops of your arms…he remembered how angry it made him, how it caused his muscles to tighten and his face to flush with rage.

Brock could tell you were nervous to talk to him. He was hyper aware of how scared you were to even approach him, but also how it took a lot of guts to do that.

You didn’t even lie about why you wanted to learn from him, not that you could with the bruises that were visible.

He didn’t exactly have the best track record when it came to relationships, or even friendships for that matter but he knew that he cared about you and couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong at home.

And he was hoping that he would get to you before it was too late.

**********

Once you started landing punches, it was difficult to stop. Danny tried countering but he was predictable. You knew his patterns of how he would go about trying to hit you or grab you, trying to make it so you didn’t get up again but you weren’t going to let him.

Brock was right. There WAS a lot of blood in the face.

With every crack to his body, he would let out a loud groan and wince in pain, yet he would still try and come for you. You didn’t need the help of a freezer door to subdue him this time and you didn’t need to run either.

Using duct tape and rope, you tied him up so he couldn’t escape. A piece of tape also went over his mouth in case he came to and decided to try and call out for help.

“He said he was on his way.” You whispered to yourself. “Please don’t wake up yet.” You said, pointing the gun in Danny’s direction again. “Please don’t wake up.”

Even though the apartment was warm, you felt cold and your teeth chattering together sounded like tap shoes against a dance floor. Wiping the sweat off of your upper lip, the taste of salt and blood danced across your tongue although it wasn’t your blood you were tasting.

It was Danny’s.

Looking around, there was blood and broken glass everywhere and when you looked at Danny’s unconscious body, that’s when you finally let go. Your eyes welled up with tears and you broke down sobbing.

Everything you had been feeling up until that point, all of the anger, frustration, hurt and betrayal hit you all at once like a wave crashing against the shore.

He wasn’t going to do this to you or anyone else ever again.

**********

Time seemed to stand still before you heard your name being called from the other side of the door followed by a few quick knocks.

“Y/n? Sweetheart, it’s me and Jack. I’m gonna open the door.” Said Brock.

They were stunned to see the state of the apartment and a man lying unconscious and tied up on the floor, his face slick with blood.

Their guns were drawn when they opened the door but quickly put them away when they saw Danny.

“Check him!” Brock said with a deep growl to Jack as he rushed to your side.

“He’s alive but he is OUT!” Rollins said.

He was a little difficult to make out because the tears in your eyes made him blurry but as soon as he got to you, Brock brushed the tears out of your eyes, told you to put the gun down, and pulled you close to his chest.

He pulled away to look you over. “Are you hurt?” He asked, gripping your face by the chin and turning it from side to side and looking at your neck.

Danny did get one hit in, he managed to cut your lip and your knuckles were badly bruised and sprinkled with tiny cuts but other than that, you were unharmed.

“Lemme see your hands.” He took your hands in his and saw how badly they were marked up. “You’re gonna need some ice or they’re gonna swell.”

You heard the faint moaning sounds of Danny waking up and watched him struggle to free himself but getting nowhere.

Brock’s face stiffened and suddenly his eyes glowed with a savage fire as he pulled his knife from its sheath, walked over to Danny, pulled him up by his hair, and held the knife to his throat.

“I oughta kill you right now, you piece of shit!” Brock shouted in Danny’s ear.

“Brock, don’t!” You pleaded.

He flicked his gaze over to you and you could see in his golden eyes that he wanted to. He wanted to open Danny’s throat and spill his blood all over the floor. Brock’s lip curled back to reveal gnashed teeth, trying so hard to reel in his anger.

“Please. Put the knife away, Brock. He forced his way in here, let’s just call the police.” You said softly. “I’m ok…really.”

After you hung up with the police, you watched Brock put his knife away and shove Danny’s head forward so hard that it made a “thud” noise against the floor.

Your mouth narrowed to a fine line. “Was that really necessary?” You said in a slightly sarcastic tone.

Brock pointed down at a bloody Danny and asked you, “Was THAT?! You beat the shit outta him, doll.”

“Yes I know I did.”

Brock pulled Danny by the hair again. “You are never gonna bother her again. I’ll kill ya myself if you come near her, tell me you understand, asshole. TELL ME!!”

Danny tried to nod but Brock was still holding on to his hair and he still had the tape over his mouth but he managed to let the both of you know that he understood.

“Mmmm hmmm…” He mumbled.

The police took Danny away and said they would be in touch. Watching him being led away in handcuffs gave you a sense of relief, like for the first time in a long time you could exhale and just…be happy.

Brock never took his eyes off of you. After the cops left, he gently touched your shaking hands. His hands felt warm against your cold skin as he pulled you in close to his chest.

You could hear his heart racing as it beat rapidly against your ear and the fabric of his t-shirt felt soft against his cheek.

“I swear the apartment was clean before all this.” You said, cracking a smile. “I’ll pay for everything I broke, just let me know—“

Brock interrupted and captured your lips in a soft kiss, his stubble scratched against your chin and cheeks, and his hand migrated to the back of your neck.

He held onto you tightly, like he never wanted to let you go.

“You know I don’t care about that. I’m just glad you’re safe, sweetheart.” Brock said, kissing your forehead.

Jack looked over at the two of you with a confused look on his face.

“Wait…so y/n can break a bunch of your shit and gets a pass but you’re still mad about me killing a few houseplants?!” He exclaimed.

Brock gave you a wink.

“She’s a LOT prettier than you are, Rollins! And since you brought it up again, how ‘bout you replace the plants that you killed…right now.”

Jack was trying to stop Brock from pushing him further down the hallway.

“Right now?! Ok well, if I get you new houseplants, will you ask her if she has any single friends?” Asked Jack.

A wide smile stretched across your face and you let out a slight chuckle.

“I’ll think about it, now get out of our house.” He said.

You felt your heart jump into your throat.

“Our house?” You asked.

Brock gave you a devilish smirk. “If you want it to be, I kinda like havin’ ya here.”

“Oh, just kinda huh?” You said with a laugh.

“Yeah, plus you’re a much better cook than I am, doll.” He said.

You raised your eyebrows in agreement. “Well, I can’t argue with you there Rumlow, I don’t know how you manage to mess up scrambled eggs but you do.”

He gave you his signature subtle smile and closed the distance between you. His presence was solid and reassuring as he tilted your chin up and tenderly pressed his lips to yours.

“So what do ya say, doll? Will you stay?”

You returned his kiss before telling him with a smile, “Yes Brock, of course I’ll stay.”

Others that might enjoy: @munsonownsmyass @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @qu1etwolf @redstarsandnightmares @gijos @nutmeg17 @k-marzolf @randomlittleimp

[sweatervest-obsessed]

In Your Dreams, Whatever They Be - Part 2

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader (she/her)

WC: 11,789

TW: allusions to death, death, guns, knives, weaponry, kissing, making out, teen angst, stressful situations, demo bats? blood, crying, so much crying, nightmares, allusions to mature content, comas, really anything in Stranger Things is in here because I followed the last two episodes pretty closely.

A/N: Part 2 baby!!! I hope yall really like it. I had to cut some things out because I realized that if I wanted to sleep and be okay with this as my final draft, then things that the reader isn't a part of. doesn't really get told in this fic. (angsty, with some fluff at the end for your troubles of making it through the angst.)

Part One !

You had cried on and off for almost three hours. It wasn’t on purpose, truly, but you just couldn’t help yourself. Once you had managed to move enough, Steve helped you through the gate, before diving through on his own. The entire group was crowding around you trying to see if you were okay, but they just made it worse. 

Max watched from the side. Eventually, she had enough and screamed at all of them to back off. She took your hand and brought you into what you assumed to be Max’s room, holding out a hand to stop Steve from following the both of you in there. 

“I’ll come get you in a minute, Harrington.” She grumbled before shutting the door behind her. 

Everyone tried to crowd around the door, attempting to listen in on what the two girls had to say to one another. No one felt comfortable leaving the only two people to have been cursed, alone, but it’s not like they had a choice. 

The second the door was shut, Max was on you—arms wrapped snugly around your waist, face buried into your chest, tears quietly streaming out of her eyes. She had lost Billy, and then  she had almost lost you. Your tears started up again just at the thought. 

You eventually had made her sit down on the ground with you, your leg was bugging you and if you stood for much longer, you might have collapsed anyways. 

“What did you see?” she whispered, after the two of you sat together, holding one another. “Did you see Billy?” 

You nodded and bit your lip, letting out a shaky breath. “Yea. I watched it happen. Again. He made me watch as he killed him. ” 

Max just closed her eyes and held onto you tighter. You kissed her head and rubbed her shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere Max. I’m right here, alive.” 

She just shook her head, and after a moment, she peered up at you, eyes brimmed with tears. “They don’t…” She huffed. “They don’t get it. They don’t know.” 

You knew her pain. You knew that Steve was going to ask you about it. You knew he was going to try and comfort you. And you knew he just wouldn’t be able to. “I know.” 

You cracked a small, sardonic smile. “Well now we have another trauma in common. I’m sure your mother would love to have me back as your babysitter.” 

Max let out a little laugh, which was heard through the door. Everyone eavesdropping relaxed a little bit, knowing you two were comforting one another, but they still felt uneasy knowing that your leg needed to be looked at, and Max shouldn’t be without her headphones for too long. 

“You should yell at everyone for trying to listen in to our conversation.” You whispered, kissing her head one more time. 

Max smiled again but shook her head. “I want another minute of quiet.” She whispered, holding you tighter than before. You ran your hand over her back, letting her relax for the first time in days, with no one staring at her every move. You started to hum a little bit of Running Up That Hill to her, causing her to smile. 

After about seven and a half minutes of being kept out of the room you and Max were in, Steve was losing his mind again. He couldn’t see you and for all he knew the both of you were dead in the other room. Steve was also ignoring the amount of bloodloss that he had, choosing to focus more on the fact that you still being able to walk was a fucking miracle. If the bats had bitten off just about any more of your flesh, they would have hit vital nerves, causing permanent damage. 

“Dude. You need to relax. She’s fine Steve. I know you’re all freaked out and whatever, but she’s with Max right now, and Max deserves this break.” Robin piped up, watching him wear a hole into the carpet. 

“She needs to rest Robi–”

“We all need to rest Steve.” Nancy snapped before closing her eyes and exhaling. “Sorry. I’m sorry. But you panicking during the one moment when we actually can just breathe is going to make things worse.” 

She got up, and walked to the front end of the trailer, near the kitchenette and couch.

Dustin and Lucas turned to Steve. “What’s her problem?” 

“Mind your own business Dustin.” Eddie murmured, watching as Nancy watched Steve who was watching the door, who kept looking at Robin for reassurance while Robin was trying to keep an eye on the kids while also trying to keep Steve from freaking out over a closed door. Eddie had decided it was exhausting, and also walked towards the kitchen, trying to find some food to cook up for the gaggle of people in Max’s trailer.

Just as Steve was about to break down the door to Max’s bedroom, Max opened it, staring him down. “Come here Harrington.” 

He scoffed at Max and leaned in when she motioned too. She grabbed his shirt and pulled him right up to her face. “Don’t make her talk about what she saw for the next hour Harrington or I will skin you alive. And don’t do anything gross on my bed either. Got it?” 

Steve almost believed her. “Ye-Yeah Red. I got it, Geez.” 

She nodded and let go of his shirt, stepping to the side. “You may enter.”

Steve looked at Max before walking into the room. Max closed the door behind him, allowing the two of you to have some much deserved privacy for the first time since you had danced together in his backyard. 

You were sitting down on Max's bed, on top of the covers, and smiled at him.“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite Doctor.”

Steve didn’t even respond to you. He just walked right up to you, and pulled you into a hug. Somehow, after almost paralyzing your leg, vomiting in the Upside Down, and being possessed by Vecna, you were now comforting a second person; if it was anyone else, you would have minded. But this was Steve, your Steve. His head was buried into your neck as he let out a sob, and you immediately pulled him as tightly as you could against your body. 

“Oh Stevie.” Mumbling into his hair, tears in your own eyes. 

“Fuck. I l-lost you. You–you–you were floating and I–” another sound passed through his lips. You could feel his tears run down your neck. “I thought—”

“But you didn’t lose me.” You cut him off, not wanting to hear the rest of his thoughts. 

Desperate to be closer to you, Steve pulled away slightly before coming back in and pressing his lips to yours. There was so much behind it, more than words could have ever described, and you kissed him back. The relief that flooded through his system, as you kissed back, as you pulled him impossibly closer with the vest. His hands were on your cheeks, trying to combine your body with his, intertwining the both of you for the rest of time. The need to feel every part of his body fueled you, as you deepened the kiss, biting his bottom lip, making a pretty sigh leave his pretty lips. Steve used one of his hands to snake around your back and push you into him. 

It was intense. 

You could feel yourself becoming dizzy from the lack of oxygen but you didn’t care. You wanted Steve’s hands on your body, you wanted to feel him on you, in you, around you. You needed to feel that he was as real just as badly as he needed to feel you. 

He pulled away slightly, your lips chasing his, both chests heaving. 

“Steve.” You silently whine, kissing him again, trying to get what you want. 

He kissed you back, ready to lean you back and fuck you right here.

But as he placed his hands on your waist, and pulled you against him, lips on your neck, your jaw, your leg hit against the frame of Max’s bedside table and you immediately pulled away and swore profusely into Steve’s shoulder, effectively ruining the moment, and shattering the reality that everything was fine. 

“Shit shit shit.” Steve pulled away, not fully sure what happened, but when he heard your muffled cries in his shoulder, he started to panic even more. “Baby what happened?” 

You just tried to calm your breathing down, choking down the rest of the tears threatening to find their way out. “I-I hit my leg on something.” 

Steve pulled away completely, and you let out a sound of resentment, along with some tears when he did. The loss of contact made everything ten times worse. 

“I need to get you all bandaged up, pretty girl.” He whispered, placing his hand on your other, healthier, not torn apart by demon bats, thigh. 

“It’s gonna fucking hurt Stevie. Can;t I just die from a blood infection instead?” You tried joking but it fell flat since the thought of you dying made him freeze up. “Sorry, bad timing, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s, It’s okay.” He whispered, watching as your chest rose and fell, reminding himself that he just kissed you, he felt your breath, you were alive. 

“Let's get this over with.” You muttered, grabbing one of the bottles off of Max’s night stand that Eddie had so kindly provided you with, taking a hefty swig of it before handing it to Steve. 

______________________________________________________

You had fallen asleep from exhaustion about five minutes after Steve had finished fixing you up, which was probably for the best since Steve just laid with you, holding you in his arms, and eventually getting about an hour’s worth of rest that he also deserved. 

But sleep was not a luxury you both could afford. Eventually Max was sent in, having drawn the short stick and now being forced to wake up the two worst people on the planet to wake up. She had tried whispering, and then tried speaking to you both, but Steve had just rolled over, managing to cover your ears in the process, subconsciously protecting you from the world of the awake. 

Finally, she shook Steve, who sat right up, almost whacking Max in the process. 

“What.” He grumbled, noticing how you groaned, stirring slightly at the lack of contact from Steve. 

“We have to figure out a plan.” Max sent him the most apologetic look she could, because she didn’t want to wake either of you up.

“Come’ere.” He wrapped an arm around Max, giving her a quick hug. She was a bit shocked at first, but didn’t pull away, not ready to admit she liked the comfort.” 

You had opened your eyes, seeing your two favorite people sharing a moment, and decided that it was your time to shine. “You trying to steal my girl Harringon.” You yawned out, stretching your arms in the process. 

Max laughed slightly, while Steve sent you a faux glare. 

“We’ll be ready in five Max, thank you.” You sent her a soft smile, eyeing her up and down quickly to make sure she was still okay, before the girl left the room, closing the door behind her.

“She has a lot of trust, believing that you won't just immediately fall back asleep.” Steve smirked as you closed your eyes again, head back on the pillow. 

“I’ll be so ready in five minutes, just you wait.” You mumbled, already half asleep. Steve placed a soft kiss on your lips, and you hummed in response. 

“Baby you have to get up. We have to talk about…” 

Your eyes shot open, his words bringing back everything Vecna had shown you. It would have impressed Steve how fast your walls went up, in a matter of seconds, if it didn’t concern him so much. 

“Okay.” You shepherd, sitting up on the bed. Steve had offered his hand, and gently helped you off the bed, very mindful of your leg. He helped you limp out of the bedroom, and onto the couch where everyone was waiting for you both. 

“Five minutes on the dot.” Eddie raised his eyebrows, all of them watching you and Steve, very aware of the injuries you both were sustaining. 

“I’m punctual Munson. Regardless of apocalypse scenarios.” You winked at him, as Steve took his place next to you on the couch, hand on your good thigh, not as interested in the harmless banter between you both. 

“I’m sorry, before we begin, when the fuck did that happen?” Dustin interrupted you before you could even open your mouth, staring at Steve’s hand on your thigh. “Did you even ask if you could officially date our favorite babysitter Steve?” 

Steve was actually slightly offended by that one. “I’m sorry Henderon, I don't remember asking you permission for my love life to continue, and second of all, I better be your favorite fucking babysitter after everything you’ve put me through.” 

Everyone could sense the thinly veiled threat, not one hundred percent sure Steve was joking, but you just rolled your eyes. “About a year Henderson. Is that all?” 

Dustin scrunched his eyes together, “He actually worked up the courage to a–”

It was your turn to interrupt Dustin. “No. I did. Any more questions or can we start the thing that made you wake me up.” 

Dustin made a face before looking over at Steve, slightly proud of him. 

“Let’s talk about it.” Nancy’s voice cut through the silence, looking at you. 

“Yeah.” You let out a shaky sigh before closing your eyes, Steve squeezing your thigh. “He-uh, showed me things that haven't happened yet. The most awful things.” 

You paused before continuing. “I saw a dark cloud spreading over Hawkins, downtown on fire, dead soldiers, and this giant creature with a gaping mouth, and this creature wasn't alone, there were so many monsters. An army. And they were coming into hawkins, into our neighborhoods, our homes, and then, he showed me my mom, holly, mike, and they, they were all…”

“–Okay but, he’s just trying to scare you, right, I mean, it’s not real.” Steve tried to interject, trying to make it better. 

You shook your head. “Not yet. But there, there was something else. He showed me gates, four gates, spreading across hawkins, and these gates, they looked like the ones outside of Eddie's trailer, but they didn’t stop growing. This wasn't the Upside Down Hawkins, this was our Hawkins, our home.” 

“Four chimes.” Max spoke up. “Vecna’s clock. It always chimes four times. Four exactly.”

“I heard them too.” You nodded.

“He’s been telling us his plan this whole time.” Max looked over at Lucas, terrified. 

“Four kills. Four gates. End of the world.” Lucas looked back at Max, equally scared.

“If that’s true, he’s only one kill away.” Dustin looked between you and Max, trying not to break. 

“Oh Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ.” Eddie just placed his hands in his face. 

“Try them again, try them again.” Nancy spoke up, looking over at Max, hoping to god the other half of their group would finally be by the phone. 

Max tried the phone, waiting, hoping, but the busy signal beeped and Max hung up the phone.

“Anything?” Dustin asked, staring at the phone. 

“No. Rang a few times and went to a busy signal.”

“Maybe you punched it in wrong–Try again.”  Steve leaned forward, placing his hands near his mouth. 

“I didn’t punch it in wrong.”

“Well, I don’t know.” Steve bickered back at Max.

“Dude, I think she knows how to use a phone.” Dustin rolled his eyes at Steve. 

“I’m just saying she could’ve typed it wrong.”. 

“Steve. Not helpful.” You hit his arm lightly, signaling him to cut it out. 

Max tried the number again before hanging up after a couple of rings. “Same shit.” 

“How is that possible?” Lucas just stared at the phone

“I told you, Joyce has this telemarketer job. Always on the phone. Mike wont stop whining about it..” Dustin sighed, starting to pace again. 

“Okay yeah. But this phone’s been busy for, what, three days now? That’s not Joyce. No way, something’s wrong.” Max looked at you, trying to get some support. 

“She’s right. It can’t be just coincidence, it can’t be.” And you gave it to her, agreeing. 

“Whatever's happening in Lenora is connected to all of this. I’m sure of it.” Nancy nodded at both you and Max.  “But Venca can’t hurt them, not if he’s dead.” 

She looked over at you, and you ran a hair through your hair, sighing, prepping for the argument that you were about to start. “Nance is right. We have to go back in there, back to the Upside Down.”

“Woah, No, no, no, no, no.” Steve stood up between you and Nancy, looking between the both of you. 

Eddie just kept repeating “Nope.” Over and over again. 

“No no, let's think this through–” Steve tried to reason with the both of you.

“What is there to think through!” Nancy argued back at him. 

Steve gestured to you. “We barely made it out of there in one piece.” Which caused a flicker of anger to pass across your face. 

“Yeah because we weren’t prepared.” You fully stood up, crossing your arms at Steve. 

“But this time, we will be. We’ll get weapons and protection.” Nancy huffed indignantly. “We’ll go through the gate, we’ll find his layer, and we’ll kill him.”

Steve didn’t know what was happening but he did not enjoy both you and Nancy teaming up against him at this moment. Eddie was just shaking his head over and over and over. “Or he’ll kill us.”

“The only reason Y/N survived is because he wanted her to. He’s not scared of us.” Steve shot back. 

“And for good reason.” Robin finally spoke, standing up. “We were wrong about Vecna. Henry. One–sorry, what are we calling him now?” Her panic was taking over. 

Both Dustin and Lucas said One, while Erica said Vecna, while you and Nancy said Henry, all at the same time, completely overwhelming Robin, and being so helpful too. 

“Right. We’ve learned something new about Vecna-slash-Henry-slash-One. He’s a number, like Eleven. Only a sick, evil, male, child-murdering version of her with really bad skin–But my-my-my-my point is, he’s super powerful. He could turn us inside out with the snap of his fingers. It’s not a fair fight.” She took a deep breath in. 

“So then why fight fair?” Dustin piped up, “You’re right. He’s like Eleven, and that gives us an upper hand. We know Eleven’s strengths. And weaknesses.” 

Erica scoffed. “weaknesses? “

Dustin smiled slightly. “When El remote travels, she goes into this trance-like state. I would bet the same is true with Vecna.” 

“That would explain what he was doing in that attic.” Lucas’s eyes got wide with recognition. 

“Exactly!” Dustin nodded before looking back at Steve. “When he’s attacking his next victim, I’ll bet you he’s back in that attic, physical body defenseless.” 

“Defenseless? Yeah?” Steve scoffed, jaw tight, gesturing to his neck. “What about the army of bats.” It came out a little harsher than intended but both he and his girlfriend were down about a pound of flesh each. 

“True. We’ll have to find a way past them.” Dustin considered. “Distract them somehow.” 

“And uh, how do we do that, exactly?” Eddie looked over at Dustin, going to stand up but sitting right back down since Dustin just barreled through.  

“No idea.” Dustin shrugged, and Steve scoffed. “But once they’re gone, he doesn’t stand a chance. It’ll be like slaying sleeping Dracula in his coffin.” 

“That all sounds good in theory.” Robin looked over at Dustin. “But there is no pattern to Vecna’s killings. I mean at least not one that I can decipher. We don’t know when he’s going to attack next. We don’t know who’s he’s going to attack n–”

“Yeah. We do.” Max cut her off, looking at you. Everyone turned to look towards her. “I can still feel him. I’m still..marked. Cursed. I ditch Kate Bush, I draw his focus back to me.” 

“Max–You can’t.” Lucas looked over at her. “He’ll kill you.” 

“I survived before. I can survive again.” She closed her eyes. “I just need to keep him busy long enough so that you guys can get into that attic–and then you can…chop his head off. Stab him in the heart. Blow him up with some explosive Dustin cooks up. I honestly don’t care how you put this asshole in his grave. Just…whatever is it…whatever you do…try not to miss.” 

You all just stood there, looking around at one another, but Steve just looked at Max. She had become his little sister, mostly due to you, but it didn’t matter since he cared for her so deeply, but when he looked back at you, you both could see the resolve of Max, tears in both your eyes. 

______________________________________________________

“Check this out.” Eddie dropped a book on the table and pointed to an ad. “

The War Zone.” It was an image of a pioneer, surrounded by American flags and AR-15s, with name “War Zone” completely predicting the font and design of a certain film coming out on May 16th, 1986, you could predict one Steve Harrington absolutely falling in love with and wanting to be the two Romantic leads for Halloween. (but I digress). 

“I’ve been there once.” Eddie continued, looking up at all of you. “It’s huge. They’ve got everything you need for, uh, well uh, killing things basically.”

“Do you think fake Rambo has enough guns there?” Robin scoffed. “Is that a grenade? I mean, how is any of this legal?” 

“Well lucky for us, it is, so.” Eddie gave her his signature sardonic smile. “Thi-

This place is just far enough outside of Hawkins, as long as we steer clear of main roads, we oughta be able to avoid cops, and uh, angry hicks.”

“If we’re trying to avoid angry hicks, maybe we shouldn’t go to some store called The War Zone.” 

Dustin nodded at her but Nancy spoke first. “Normally I’d agree, but we need the weapons. So, I think it’s worth the risk.” 

“Me too.” You agreed. 

“Yeah but is it worth the time?” Lucas looked over at Dustin, who nodded. 

“It would take all day to bike there and back.” 

“Who said anything about bikes Henderson?” Eddie smiled again. 

“What, you’ve got some car we don’t know about?” Steve looked quickly at you before looking back at Eddie. Eddie stood up in his face, smiling cheekily. 

“It’s not exactly a car Steve. And it’s not exactly mine, but uh, it’ll do.” You all looked at him, while he looked at Max. “Hey, Red, uh, you got a ski mask or a bandanna or something like that?” 

Max went to shake her head before her eyebrows raised. 

______________________________________________________

You could now add and then cross “stealing an RV” off of your proverbial bucket list. Eddie had snuck around the trailer park in Max’s old halloween mask, looking like a fucking idiot, and had managed to sneak all of you into this random couples trailer. Eddie had slid himself through the window, sneaking up to the front of the trailer and locking the door, effectively closing off the couple sitting outside from their home. Steve had hopped through next, helping everybody jump into the RV. 

Eddie started pulling wires, and cutting them, getting ready to hotwire the RV to start. Steve had come up and peered over Eddie's Shoulder. 

“Where’d you learn how to do this?” Steve furrowed his brows while Eddie kept focus. 

“Well while the other dads were teaching their kids how to fish or play ball, my old man was teaching me how to hot-wire.” Steve was honestly in awe as Eddie continued to work his magic. “Now I swore to myself that I wouldn’t wind up like he did, but now, I’m wanted for murder, and soon, grand theft auto. So, uh, I’m really living up to the Munson name.” You were in the back making sure everyone got through the window and staying down, but watching the two of them. You slowly made your way up to the front, listening to their conversation, when Robin brushed past you. 

Eddie was sparking the wires together, hoping to ignite the engine. Steve was actually quite impressed with Eddie, looking back at Robin when she came over his shoulder. 

“Uh, Eddie.” Robin interrupted. “I’m not sure I love the idea of you driving.” 

“Oh I’m just starting the sucker.” Eddie gave Steve the biggest smile. “Harrington’s got her, dontcha big boy.” 

Robin rolled her eyes, as Steve gave him an extremely confused look, but was interrupted by the start of the engine. CCR’s Up Around the Bend started playing as the RV rumbled to life. You heard the couple outside screaming as they realized what was about to happen. They were banging on the door, while all three of the idiots up front just stared at them.

“MOVE.” You yelled at the statues before they all started to scramble. Eddie smiled at Steve before dashing into the back with Robin while Steve clambered into the driver’s seat just mumbling shit over and over again. 

“It’s just a car.” He reassured himself before yelling at everyone in the back. “Everybody hang onto something.” 

Everyone in the back was freaking out, grabbing pillows to brace for impact, grabbing onto the cushions or the couch, or even the ground. 

“Dive Steve DRIVE.” Dustin let out a guttural scream as Steve hit the gas, pulling away from the site, and out of the trailer park. “Shit they look pissed.” Dustin looked over at Robin. 

“I mean it’s not everyday you lose your house and your car in one fell swoop.” 

“Hold on, HOLD ON!” Steve spun the wheel, barreling onto the road, screeching into the distance.  ______________________________________________________

You were sitting in the middle of the RV with Dustin and Eddie, the two of them having a conversation while you eavesdropped on Nancy and Steve. 

“How's it handle?” She asked, looking ahead at the road. 

“Not half bad.” Steve smiled at her slightly. “Considering that this is a house.” 

Nancy let out a small laugh, looking over at Steve slightly. 

“Y-Yeah, it’s silly but I…I’ve actually, uh, well I’d always had this dream that like I’d have this really…really big family.”  Nancy looked over at Steve as he continued. “I’m talking like a full brood of Harringtons. Like five, six kids.”  

You had smiled slightly, picking out some remnants of dirt. You couldn’t help it. Sure, maybe you didn’t want a full brood of Harringtons, five or six was a bit excessive, but maybe just even the thought of kids sounded nice with Steve. 

“Six?” Nancy laughed slightly. 

“Yeah six little Nuggets. Three girls, three boys.” Now that made you wanna burst out laughing. Clearly he had been hanging around Robin too much, and you would absolutely be giving him shit for it later. 

He laughed at himself for a second, eyes on the road. “And…And every summer, I’d figured all of us Harringtons, we would pack into something like this and just.” He looked into the rearview mirror, meeting your gaze and smiling softly, speaking right to you. “Just, see the country. You know, the Rockies, Grand Canyon, maybe Yellowstone. End up in some beachside town in California. Spend a week parked in the sand. Learn how to surf, or something.”

Nancy had kept her smile, but her eyes lost the shine they once carried. He was looking at you, not her. And it hurt because she knew it was over anyways, but some part of her always held Steve so closely–first love will do that to someone. She watched as he looked at you, adoringly. 

Steve had looked back to the road, breaking eye contact after you had sent him a wink, slight blush on his cheeks. He seemed so confident in the idea. So confident in himself and in you, and Nancy couldn’t help but be happy for the both of you, regardless of how much it hurt to watch the door she thought might always be open become locked. 

“That sounds nice.” She said softly, continuing to look at him. Steve looked over at her, before back in the mirror. “Yeah?”

You nodded at him, while Nancy responded, “Yeah..”

She quickly cleared her throat. “Well, um, except for the six-kid part.” And you could agree with her on that. “That sounds like a total nightmare.”

“If only I had some practice.” He jested, waving his hand in the direction of the hooligans, plus you, he was driving around. 

Nancy nodded, conceding. “Alright, fair. That’s fair.” The two of them shared a small smile before settling into a soft silence. Lucas had also been watching the whole thing, and turned around, going to sit in the back with Max. You followed his figure back, before turning and looking towards Steve, who’s eyes had already been watching you periodically when he wasn’t looking at the road, causing you to feel a semblance of happiness as you tried to ignore all of the visions of death and destruction that rang through your head.  ______________________________________________________

You felt so out of place in War Zone, but Steve managed to fit right in with his denim outfit, and lack of shoes. You all were assigned a couple of necessities to grab so you could be in and out as efficiently as possible. But as you walked into the store, it was filled to the brim. 

“So much for avoiding angry hicks.” Robin looked at Nancy. 

“Let’s be…fast.” Nancy agreed, before you all split up. 

You had gone to the gun counter with Nancy, the both of you being the best with guns, which honestly made Steve question himself when he thought about it a little too hard. Nancy was holding one in her hand while you were still browsing, not wanting her to be alone in a store like this, her feeling the exact same way. 

She looked up at the guy at the counter. “How much is this?” 

The guy pulled out a box of bullets for her, “$120.99, but I’ll throw in 20 rounds of buckshot for ya.” You and Nancy nodded at each other, muttering something about needing more than that, when your body froze. 

“Hey, can I see this pretty .357 please?” 

“Nance…” You whispered, and the two of you slowly looked over at Jason Carver, before slowly turning away. But it didn’t matter.

Jason smirked over at the both of you, an air of disbelief in his voice as he held the magnum in his hand. “Nancy Wheeler and Y/N Y/L/N? Wouldn’t expect to find you two here.” 

You slowly turned towards him, tight smiles on your lips.  “Yeah well, it’s just, scary times .” Nancy answered for you both. 

“I’m, I’m sorry about Chrissy.” You said, moving slightly closer to him, and Jason’s face flashed with pain, with hurt. He nodded, placing the gun down. “Want my advice?” 

You and Nancy looked at each other before giving him a slight nod. As he slowly walked towards you, Nancy placed herself in front of you, not because you couldn’t protect yourself, because she knew you were about to do the same. . 

“Shotguns are not good for much of anything past killing small birds.” He got real close to you both. “I mean, they got power, sure, but not much range. And that’s just gonna force you into close-range combat.” 

You could feel Nancy tense up as he continued to get closer, and you were sure she felt you tense up too. His eyes flickered back and forth between the two of you, ultimately landing on Nancy, like a predator deciding which kill to make first. You took a step back, hand trained on the knife you had placed on the counter a moment earlier. 

“Then someone can just grab the barrel like this.” His hand came up quickly, and pulled the barrel away from Nancy. “And redirect it.” 

“Well you look nervous.” His hand tugging on the barrel. 

“Well like I said. Scary times.” 

“Now your brother. He, uh–He here with you by chance?” 

Nancy’s face flashed something quickly across it. “Mike?”

Jason nodded, eyes grilling into her. “Mike.” 

Nancy shook her head slightly, staring him down. “No.”

“I only ask because he’s…he’s in Hellfire isn’t he?” 

You looked over and saw Erica, her eyes wide and panicked. You motioned with your hand, below your waist, for her to move away, quickly. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Jason scoffed. “What about his friends? They here with you?” He pulled the gun closer to him, struggling to gain some sort of control over Nancy. 

“Would you let go.” she threatened slightly, trying not to cause a scene, while your hand had already curved around the knife, ready to cause that exact scene. “Let. Go.” 

______________________________________________________

Steve eventually pulled the RV over into a field in the middle of nowhere. After your daring escape from The War Zone (insert patriotic sounds), you all needed silence, and a place to start bringing your plan into action. 

Eddie and Dustin were hammering nails through trash can lids, while Max held down the shotgun so that Nancy could saw off the edge. 

You were by the RV, decked out in a clean pair of jeans, a tank top, and a flannel, ready for battle. You had located a couple of walkmans in the RV and was rifling through the cassettes, hoping to find an extra for Max, just in case, and maybe even one for yourself. You looked up as Dustin and Eddie started wrestling around, smiling at the hint of normalcy, before turning to look at the Sinclairs, watching them trying to make spears. 

You were right next to Steve and Robin as they were making Molotov cocktails. You had known Robin for a while, having been friends with her back in elementary school, but drifting apart when she went into band. By the time you kind of reconnected in high school, you weren’t super close again, until you both got drugged and slapped around by a couple of Russian hunks a million miles below the Starcourt Mall. 

“It just doesn’t make any sense.” Steve held the funnel up for her to pour some gasoline into the bottle. 

“What doesn't make sense.” You responded having shifted closer to them. 

“That was Dan Shelter. He graduated two years ago.” 

Robin was focusing spectacularly on not spilling any gas, but responded anyway. “So?”

“So he’s in college, which means he was visiting on Spring break.” You both looked at him, curious as to where he was going with this. “Fast Times was returned, like, I don’t know, a week ago? Right? Unless she’s got some horndog brother we don’t know about. Which is possible. Or she’s just like, really into Judge Reinhold–.” 

“Steve.”

“Nah–What.”

“I don't care. And I don’t understand why you do either with everything that’s going on. Honestly, this feels like the perfect time for that little pull of the rug because in the face of the world ending, the stakes of my love life feel spectacularly low. ” Robin huffed out, trying to get him to listen.

“Yeah. I mean, I get you there, but I still have hope.” Steve sighed.

“You better have a fantastic explanation for that response, Harrington.” You looked up at him, eyes narrowed. 

He blushed a little bit and shot you an apologetic look, but you just winked at him, knowing what he was referring to. 

“Not everything has a happy-ending.” Robin sighed, looking between the two of you. 

“Yeah, yeah, believe me, I know.” You grumbled at her, digging through a new bin of cassette. 

“I’m not talking about my failed love life, I-I just, I have this terrible, gnawing feeling that it might not work out for us this time.” She put the gas down and looked between the two of you. 

“You think we shouldn’t be doing this?” Steve picked up a new bottle.  

“I think we're mad fools, the lot of us, but if we don't stop him, who will. We have to try, right? “

“To killing Vecna” Steve held out his bottle. 

“Slash Henry.” Robin responded. 

“Slash One.” You sighed, hearing them clink, and get back to work.

The Rv hummed beneath you, all of you silent. The radio was playing Journey’s “Separate Ways”, which kept the silence at bay. The tension between all of you was palpable, since you all knew how poorly this might end. 

Steve looked over at you, before pulling up to the Creel House. He leaned over and kissed you softly, which made you squeeze his hand. You weren’t happy about this plan at all, but you’d rather part things on a positive note just in case… You, Max, Erica, and Lucas hopped out of the RV, and towards the house, while the other’s pulled away. 

There had been an extensive fight before you all convened to go over the plan again. 

“You’re fucking batshit if you think I’m letting you go back into the Upside Down.” 

“Oh ha ha did you think of that pun yourself Steve? Since when do you dictate exactly what I do and don’t do?” 

You could be so aggravating sometimes. Steve fucking adored how headstrong and independent you were. But boy did it bite him in the ass when you were doing the same thing he was doing to you. 

“I’m not the only one who was being eaten alive Steve.” You gestured to his abdomen, trying not to let the memory cloud your judgment

“I-I know. Okay? I know. But if something were to happen to you down there, again?” Steve ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t get your screaming out of my head.” He whispered. 

“And you think I can? Do you know what it was like the moment you were pulled under the water? The moment I entered the Upside Down and saw you get strangled but some fucking demonic bats?” 

Steve pinched his brow, and paced around. The both of you had enough sense to move the conversation into the woods, far away enough so that your raised voices were barely heard, but your bodies still seen.  

“Steve, I can’t just let you go down there without me again.” 

“I know. I know. But I can still walk.” It came out a bit more harshly than  he intended but his point was clear. 

“Oh my bad. Next time I almost get paralyzed from trying to fucking save your life, I’ll think twice about it. Fucking asshole.” You turned and stormed into the woods, needing some air to try and clear your head. Clearly Steve did not get the message that you want to be alone, or he just ignored it and followed you. 

“Hey. Hey! Y/N.” He caught your wrist, making you turn around and glare at him, pulling it out of his grasp. 

“Leave me alone Steve.” 

“No, listen, baby–”

“Don’t fucking baby me right now. You’re not telling me the whole truth, and I don’t want to listen to half-assed explanations. I’ve followed through on better communication so now it’s your turn.” 

“If you died in front of me, I’d want to—....” He took a breath. “I don’t want you to go down there because if you got hurt again, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself. And if you d-died? If Vecna or Henry or whatever the fuck his name is, is able to-to-to take you instead of Max’s bait? I canno–I will not let that happen. I don’t want you, either of you, to die tonight. But if you’re together, I feel better knowing that you two can be there for each other, and protect one another.”

“But that is not your call to make Steve.” Your eyes had softened, and so had your tone, but you weren’t about to completely give up. “It feels like you don’t consider how I feel about this. Because if you got hurt, or-or worse? Down there? You think I wouldn’t feel the exact same way.” 

“I’m sor–” 

“Let me finish Steve.”

He just closed his mouth, hands on hips. 

“Do you know what it’s like to date someone who undervalues their life so much that they are first in line the second danger comes up?” Steve had never really thought about it before, but you just continued on. “How about dating someone who, at the drop of a hat, would exchange his life for any one of their friends if they were in danger. You are so fucking careless with your life Steve because all you do is care about other people, never yourself.” Tears were threatening to spill but you refused to cry again, all you had done for the past couple days was cry–cry at Vecna’s visions, cry in pain from your wound, cry at almost losing Steve.

“Can’t you be selfish for one fucking second, just for me?” 

Steve walked over and wrapped you in a hug, and you immediately clung to him, tears streaming down your face. The two of you stayed like that for a minute, before Steve slowly started to sway you both back and forth. 

“What are you doing Steve?” You gumbled and he brought one of his hands up to your cheeks. 

“How does it go? Stars shining right above you…Night breezes like to whisper, I love you.” 

You shook your head, laughing slightly, before resting your forehead on his. “I’d say it’s close enough, but Vecna might have some choice words.” 

“Knowing you are with Max, and not in the Upside Down fighting those stupid fucking bats, or Vecna–Knowing that I’m putting Rob, and Nance, and Eddie and D-Dustin in potentially a lot more danger, by asking you this, is one of the most selfish things I could ever ask from you.” He whispered, he opened his eyes and stared into yours. “Please.”

How the fuck were you supposed to not concede to that. But you knew he was telling you the whole truth, all of it. You kissed him softly, letting yourself get one more, selfishly good, memory into your bones. 

So when the RV drove off, you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, thinking about the way his lips fit over yours, and the way that through some misfortunate aligning of the stars, you might never be able to kiss him again. But you weren’t going to let that take over your mind right now. You had more important things. 

The four of you stood, staring at the Creel House, each with a lantern in hand, before walking up, and through the door. 

The sun had gone down, and the house was probably ten degrees cooler than the outside air, which was saying something considering it was fucking freezing outside. You all had headed inside, taking off their shoes to try and make as little noise possible. In fact, you couldn’t hear each other walking around, but you always knew where Max was because of the soft vocals of Kate Bush. You had stayed on the first floor, with Erica, wandering around, hoping to get one of your friends on the other side to make your lights flicker, so you knew it was go time. Lucas was weaving through the second floor, looking around for anything really. 

But when Erica waved her hand over at you, when her lantern grew excessively bright, you stayed with the lantern, while she had run up the stairs to get the other two.

As Max got closer, her lantern grew brighter, confirming what everyone was suspecting. Erica quickly wrote out Phase One?, and held it out to you to confirm that it was time. You looked at Lucas and Max before nodding at Erica. 

She ran out the door, and towards the remains of a playground, climbing up into what once was a rocket’s shell. 

But what you all failed to miss was the man walking his dog, that saw the glowing coming from the Creel House, and the scared child, running for her life. 

Back in the house, Max and Lucas were sitting on the second floor, next to the glowing lantern, her music thrumming faintly. 

You were across the hall, in what was probably the Creel’s library, searching through books, listening to your own music. Since you had found four more walkmans, and three of them  worked, everyone at the Creel House, including Erica, was locked and loaded, fresh batteries and all, with either their favorite song, or one they could consider a favorite. It was your precaution against one of them breaking, or if Vecna had decided to pick you instead of Max. 

As your fingers ghosted over the books, your head started to hurt again, causing you to immediately place your headphones on, so grateful for the fact that the trailer you stole must have had a hippie daughter with the same taste in music that you did. The soft lull of the guitar started to play as you tried to find a book to steal while you waited. You almost bumped into a chair, but in doing so found one of the mother’s picture books. You dusted the cover off slightly, smiling when you realized it was their wedding album. You slowly turned through the pages, admiring the long train, and the even longer veil. But they looked so happy, so warm. You almost, almost, started to let your mind wander when Lucas came into the room, alerting you silently that Phase Two was starting. You placed the album down, pushed off your headphones, and followed him to the stairs, where Max was putting on her shoes. You all stood, staring at the thrumming lantern, before Max quickly turned to look at Lucas, a moment of fear and doubt crossing her face. But Lucas nodded at her, putting on a brave face for the both of you. 

She took a couple of breaths, before taking off her head phones, and turning off Kate Bush. The house was completely, and utterly silent. Max started yelling.

“Hey!”

Nothing.

“Asshole!”

More silence. 

“I’m here. No more music. No more games.” 

Max looked over at you panicking because it wasn’t working. 

“Do you hear me??” 

You just stared at the light. 

“What are you waiting for, huh? Come on. Do you want me or not?” 

Just then, the lantern started to buzz, and fade. Max looked panicked before her lantern started to buzz. 

Vecna was moving. 

You grabbed the lantern where Vecna was, and then moved towards Max, all of you slowly moving up the stairs, and following him to the attic. Once you had all made it near the altar, the light just stood still. 

“What are you waiting for, asshole? Hmm? I’m right here. I’m right here!”

You moved closer to Max, putting your hands on hers. 

“I know you can hear me.” Max continued. “I know you can read my thoughts. Even the worst ones. Maybe mostly the worst ones.” 

Max took off her headphones and placed the walkman on the box next to her. You immediately pulled yours off, and swapped the tapes, discarding your tape on the box next to Max’s walkman, ready to place the music on her ears the second she started to float. 

“I thought about what you said.” She whispered. “About how I wanted my brother to die. 

I thought that you were just trying to upset me, to anger me, but you weren't, were you.. You were just telling the truth. Billy he, he made my life a living hell. Every chance he got ... .So sometimes, when I would lie in bed at night, hope, pray, I would pray that something would happen to him. Something awful. I knew that he drove too fast, so I would imagine him crashing, dying in that stupid car….I just–I wanted him out of my life, forever. I wanted him to disappear. The day that he died, I think that’s why I just stood there, watched. Not because IO was scared, weak, but because I didn’t know if he deserved to be saved. And I've tried to forgive myself. I’ve tried. But. I can’t. I can’t. So now. Now when…I lie in bed at night. I pray that something will happen to me. That something terrible will happen to me. So that’s why I’m here. Because, I just want you to take me away, and I want you. To make me disappear.”

“Is that all true? You wanted Billy to die.” You asked her, chest heaving slightly. 

“Why are you talking?” Max looked up at you. “You ever have thoughts like that about me?” 

“What?” You took a step back. “Max, how could you ask me that?”

“Normal people don’t fantasize about killing people, Y/N.” Lucas turned to look at the both of you. “You realize that right?”

“Lucas, stop.” You took another step backwards. 

“I thought she was getting better, but she’s not, is she? You lied to me about her.” Lucas took a step towards you, and you took a step away.

“You’re sick!”

“Lucas, you don’t mean that.” Your voice wavered. 

“Maybe it’s good he takes her. Maybe it’s for the best. She was willing to let someone she claimed to be her little sister die in front of her.” 

“Max, please.” Your eyes started to water, as you tried to keep moving back. 

“In fact, I’m glad it’s going to be you and not her.” He snapped his neck towards you, glaring. 

“You will be the chosen one. The fourth. The final Sacrifice.” Max’s voice became more and more distorted. “It was always you, Y/N. I’ve always wanted you. Because it’s going to be you, that breaks the world.” 

Max was desperately waving her hand in front of your face, screaming your name–this was not part of the plan. It was supposed to be her, not you. She couldn’t lose someone else. 

“Y/N? Y/N? Can you hear me? Please.” Lucas was calling out to you, searching your face for any sign or acknowledgement, but you just stood there, still, eye’s blank. 

“Y/N, where are you going? Don’t be scared.” 

You kept backing up, chest heaving. “Stay away from me.” 

“Y/N. I thought you said you were ready.” Max was cornering you in. “Ready to Disappear”

“I Said STAY AWAY.” You grabbed one of the jars next to you and based Lucas on the head, and ran past him.

Lucas had run downstairs to signal to Erica that you were possessed, but all he could do was just signal that someone was being possessed by Vecna. Regardless, Phase Three was about to commence. 

You had run down the stairs of the Creel house, and opened the front door, only to be met with it being completely boarded up. 

“Where are you going, Y/N.” Vecna appeared at the top of the stairs., causing all of the lights in the house to flicker. You bolted into the next room , trying to escape the inevitable. You pulled open another door, only to be met by more wood. “Fuck fuck fuck.” You muttered, trying to pull the boards off of the frame. When that didn;t work, you ran to another door, and then another after that, determined to not give up. You opened another door, which had another door behind it. It was the locker room door at the pool. Billy slammed on the door, screaming at you. “You bitch, let me out of here.” He kept pounding on the door. “OPEN. THE. DOOR.”

You stared at it, terrified, before turning and running the other way, watching the doorway you entered from was covered in boards. You heard Billy shatter the glass, screaming at you, making you run as fast as your leg would let you, ignoring the shot of pain every time you used that leg. You ran straight into another boarded up door frame, turning and facing Billy as he slammed against the door, over and over again, screaming about how he was going to kill you. 

You closed your eyes, trying to block out Billy’s screams. Max, on the RV, had told Lucas that he only hides in the dark places, the bad memories, so you tried, so hard, to find your happiest memory. Billy’s attempts were becoming more and more successful, as you pictured your moments. It flickered through summers when you were younger, lips sweet and fingers sticky. You felt the wind in your hair when you were in middle school, going to the drive in with your parents and Robin. You saw Steve. His smile. That stupid, gorgeous head of hair. His hands on your waist. Lips on your neck. Flickers of Steve’s patio crept into your mind. Billy was screaming louder. His attempts were getting better. Steve’s eyes the first time you told him you loved him. His hands on your back, in your hair. You watched as you danced with him, singing to him. He held you so close, looked at you with so much love. You kissed him. You felt his lips on yours. You heard Billy break through the door. 

But when your eyes shot open, you were in Steve’s backyard, pool empty, patio door open, but no Steve. It was silent. There were no birds in the background, no wind through the trees, just the sound of your breath. “Holy shit…it worked.” You smiled a bit, looking around in disbelief. 

You opened one of the bins on the patio that Mrs. Harrington had insisted it was practical, and grabbed one of the towels, leaning it across the back of the lounge chair, and sitting on it. Humming to yourself, keeping your hopes up. 

But as soon as you let your guard down, the umbrella covering two of the chairs started to drip blood. At first it was just one or two drops, but it suddenly became more and more, until the ground was covered in blood, and you were standing with your back to the house. 

The radio the Harrington’s kept on in the kitchen switched on.

“But in your dreams whatever they be…” Ella Fitzgerald’s voice lilted throughout the yard, filling up the space. You slowly walked over to the roos, watching all around you, paranoid. You looked behind you, as watched as the rose bushes started to wilt and down, dropping decrepit flowers around the base of it. The grass was turning into a nasty shade of yellow, dying slowly. 

“No No no.” You whispered, watching as the paint started to peel off of the porch, off of the siding of the house. 

Louie Armstrong’s voice continued the song, haunting your mind as everything around you started to die. 

You watched as ash started to fill the air, floating by you just like it did in the Upside Down. Red thunder boomed in the distance, clouds slowly appearing over your memory. You watched the red lighting strike over and over again. 

Max and Lucas kept peering out, looking for Erica. 

“Why is this taking so long?” Lucas muttered, flashing the flashlight again.  

Just then, Lucas and Max heard the front door slam shut, the two of them looking at each other, eyes wide. 

“Shit.” Max whispered as Jason Fucking Carver walked into the attic, eyes wide at your form, just sitting on the ground. 

“Jason?” Lucas called out. “You can’t be here right now man.” 

“The hell have you done?” 

“Jason. You need to leave.” Max took a step forward. 

“Is this what you did to Chrissy?” He knelt down next to your form.

“Just listen to us Jason–”

“Hey. Can you hear me?” He got closer to you, eyes wide as you rocked back and forth, eyes moving frantically underneath your eyelids. 

“Jason, you need to go.” They both tried to get him to listen. 

“Hey man. Don’t touch her. I’m not messing around.” 

Lucas walked forward, “Please, Please just leav–”

“Hey hey Hey HEY.” Jason stood up, pointing a gun between Max and Lucas. “Back up. Bakc. Up. Both of you. Not another step.”

“W-w-we don’t, we don’t–dont have to do this.” Lucas whispered. “We don’t have to do this man.” 

“I hope you’re right.” Jason looked at you and then back at the two kids. “Is there anyone else in the house?” 

“No. No.” Max answered for them both. 

“Put down the flashlight Sinclair. And turn around.” Jason started waving the gun around slightly as Lucas slowly turned around placing the flashlight on the floor. “Empty your pockets.”

“We don’t ha–” 

“Empty. You. Pockets.” Jason sneered at both of them. 

Lucas and Max both pulled out the insides of their pockets. Max had a few bits of crumpled paper from when she got nervous, and Lucas had nothing. 

“Now this is what’s gonna happen.” Jason quickly glanced over his shoulder. “I’m gonna back away to the top of the stairs there. Then I’ll watch as you wake her up from whatever the hell this is.” 

Lucas and Max looked at one another. “We can’t.” Max pleaded with Jason. 

“Jason, if we wake her too soon, we all die.”

“No.” He whispered. “You don’t wake her up right now Sinclair, You both die.” He turned off the safety, hands still shaking.

Stars shining bright above you. Night Breezes seem to whisper I love you. 

You had slammed the patio door shut, and knocked the umbrella into the pool. You had opened the shed and pulled out a couple of the old clubs Mr. Harrington had royally fucked up, ready to use your All-Star Skills again. 

You looked over at the woods, and right where the gate used to be, was the door to the Creel House. Your grip tightened on the club. 

“You can’t hide from me Y/N.” 

You closed your eyes and pictured Max–braiding her hair, taking her and El shopping, painting their nails. 

“You think I don’t see what you’re doing?” 

You saw flashes of nights with Nancy and Robin, girls nights with booze and magazines and drunken secrets. You saw hanging out with Jonathan, enjoying the silence of a park, reading together. Flashes of nights where Steve let you all pile into his house, games, movies, safety, happiness.

“You think I don’t see everything?” 

Suddenly your mind was filled with Eddie, being chased by bats, leading them away from the camper, Dustin screaming in the distance. 

“You thought you could trick me.” 

The gun being pointed at Lucas and Max, Jason screaming at the both of them. 

“You thought your friends could stop me.” 

Steve, Nancy, and Robin attacking the vines in the house, but slowly being overcome– choked by vines, squeezing them tighter and tighter. Their screams fill your ears. 

“I see them.” 

Flashes of demogorgons attacking Dustin. 

“I see your friends.” 

Jason yelling at Max and Lucas. Erica being tackled.

“Just as clearly.” 

Steve being shoved to the wall, the vines choking him, taking his breath away. 

“As I.” 

Dustin’s screams for Eddie. 

“See you.” 

Flashes of the bats biting your leg, pain shooting through it. 

“I can feel them.” 

Robin slowly loses her breath, frantically searching for Steve and Nancy to save her. 

“I can feel them.” 

Nancy’s mouth being covered by the vines, her screams being muffled. 

“I can feel them dying.” 

Steve screams, gasping for air, but it’s not coming. The vines pull tighter and tighter as you watch him suffocate to death. 

Your eyes fly open as the first chime of the clock strikes, chest heaving. 

“It’s time, Y/N.” 

You back away slightly and look around, seeing the death, the gray, the decay. Ella Fitzgerald still singing away in the background, but her voice was distorted, as if it was a different memory. 

“It’s time Y/N.” 

You turned around right as Vecna lifted his hand, throwing you against the wall of the house, as you cried out in pain, as he slowly stalked towards you. 

“You are brave, Y/N.” 

You were panting, tears streaming down your face. 

“Much braver than Billy.” 

You tensed up, glaring at Vecna.

“But in the end, you are weak, and fragile, just like him.” 

You were struggling against him with everything you had left. 

“Like all the rest of them. And you will break.” 

Vecna reached his claw up and over your face, but right as he went to dig his claws into your skin, he was thrown across the patio, and you collapsed on the floor.  As you looked up, you could see her–El. She slowly turned him so he was floating, facing her. 

“You,” he growled at her.

But El only gave him a small smirk with a “Hi.” before launching him across the room.

You started to stand up, with El running over to you and hugging you tightly. “Are you okay?” 

“Huh.” You stood there, not believing your eyes. 

“Are you okay?” She asked again, pulling away slightly. 

“Y-Yeah El, I’m okay.” You pinched her cheek a bit, poked her shoulders. “Are you-Are you real?” 

El took your hand into hers. “I’m real.” 

“How.” You were starting to breathe at a regular rate, still not quite believing your eyes. 

“I piggybacked from a pizza dough freezer.” 

“What?” 

“I–” She was cut off by the sound of wood creaking, of Vecna rising. He stood up, glaring at El and cracking his neck. 

“Stay back.” El warned. 

They stood across from one another, glaring. 

“If you touch her again.” El snarled. “I will kill you, again.” 

“Is that what you did?” He hissed back. “Did you kill me? I am so glad you are here, Eleven. This is going to be beautiful. So. Beautiful. And it’s all thanks to you.” ______________________________________________________

Your eyes fluttered open as Vecna approached you. 

“Don’t be afraid.” 

You were sobbing, struggling against the vines.

“Try and stay very still.”

His claw lifted up over your face.

“It will all be over soon.” 

El screamed your name, struggling against the vines, 

Slowly, your body floated up to the sky, Jason had stopped punching Lucas and scrambled away. Max was screaming your name, trying to find where you had carelessly thrown your tape. Your body convulsed, eyes and palms towards the sky. She found it on the altar and tried to place it in the walkman, hands shaking. 

Your body convulsed. Max turned the volume all the way up and unplugged the headphones, trying desperately to get you to hear the song. 

Lucas caught a glimpse of your body and started to punch Jason repeatedly, blow after blow, causing him to collapse on the floor.  

Just he stuck his claws into your skull, you heard El screaming. You heard the soft lull of the guitar, screaming as you tried to kick Vecna away. And then it was black. 

Your body fell to the floor, landing next to Max who frantically scrambled over to you, holding your body. You gasped, breathing in the air of the Creel house. 

“Y/N! It’s me. I’ve got you.”  

Erica ran up the stairs, screaming your names. 

“We need a doctor,” Lucas was sobbing, trying to get you to focus on something. “Call an ambulance, hurry, call an ambulance.” 

Max was rocking you back and forth, trying to calm you down, but sobbing nonetheless. 

“M-Max?” You looked up at her, touching her face. You felt like your whole body was on fire, as if the vines had left welts in their place. You leg was numb from all the pain, but you hadn’t realized that one of your wrists was shattered, and so was one of your ankles, 

“I-I’m okay.” You hiccuped, trying not to cry in front of the two teens holding you. Even when you were potentially dying in front of them, all you truly cared about was protecting them. Max just sobbed into your hair, holding you tightly against her chest. 

Your eyes were fluttering closed. “No no no, Y/N, stay with me. Please.” Lucas started pleading with you, alerting Max that you were starting to drift away. 

“I-I don’t…I don’t wanna go.” You started crying, not being able to stay awake fully. 

“No please, I got you.” Max was begging you. She kept trying to get you to keep your eyes open, while Lucas did the same. 

“Erica Help!” He screamed out, watching as your body started to lose tension, becoming less and less alive in Max’s arms. 

“Y/n, Y/n? No no no no No! Stay with me. Come on, please. Please stay with me, Please.” 

And that was all you heard as you drifted away, unable to hear them pleading anymore, enjoying the silence, the rest, the warmth of closing your eyes, and not being afraid.  ______________________________________________________

One week later, you slowly blinked your eyes open, not used to the bright lights, a deep contrast to the sleep you’ve been in. You heard someone off in the corner, breathing, you knew they were there. You tried to speak, but you couldn’t. 

You tried to move your hand next, squeezing it, not realizing you were squeezing somebody’s hand. You vaguely heard your name before trying again. You heard yells and commotion above you, but were put back to sleep when the doctors told Steve they had to take the Catheter out of your mouth so you would be able to eat and speak properly. 

Steve didn’t like the idea of you going back to sleep, but he couldn’t argue with the doctors, so he let them, sitting back down by your side, watching, waiting for you to hopefully wake up in the hour they had promised. So when you squeezed his hand, eyes already looking at him, Steve almost broke down right then and there.

“Oh thank god.” He whispered, kissing your hand, ready to climb onto the bed and never let you go. 

“Hey champ.” You mumbled, yawning and rolling your neck slightly. 

Steve’s jaw dropped, and if you hadn’t been in a coma for a week, he would have actually been pissed. “I’ll be sure to include that the first thing you said, after waking up, ws Hey Champ.” 

You shrugged, yawning again, but squeezing his hand. “Felt appropriate since you look like shit.” 

“I’ll have to find a mirror.” 

“You take that back right now Steve Harrington.” You mumbled, going to cross your arms but flinching. “What…” You looked down at your other arm, noticing the casted tightly wrapped around it. 

“O-Oh.” you whispered, everything flooding back to you in an instant. Tears welling in your eyes. “Oh. Oh my god.”

The monitor started to beep quicker, as your whole body experienced the pain from before all over again, you were sobbing, shaking your head, not understanding why you could move your leg and arm. It was overwhelming. 

Steve had quickly gotten up and sat on the gurney, pulling you into his arms, being extremely mindful of your injuries. 

“You’re okay baby, everything is okay. You’re safe. I’m right here.” He whispered into your hair, cradling you, just grateful for the contact. 

A nurse had come to check in on you since your heart rate had almost doubled, but she saw it slowly declining again as Steve held you, deciding to leave the both of you alone. 

“W-What happened is everyone…” 

Steve pulled you in tighter. “It’s a lot, sweetheart. A lot has happened. And I’ll tell you all about it, I swear on my life, but first, you need to just relax okay?” 

You nodded, pulling away slightly, tears still slowly tracking down your cheeks. “Is it rude of me to use the fact that I almost died to ask you to kiss me.”

Steve tensed up at your wording, and you examined his face. “How long.” you asked softly, watching as his eyelashes fluttered closed. He had new bruises around his neck, and some around the edge of his face. 

“A whole…” He exhaled slowly. “A whole minute.” 

You kissed his cheek, letting your lips linger. “But that wasn;t your fault.” 

Steve hated that you could see right through him , know his guilt, know his pain, like you were watching it on a billboard. 

“I should have just listened t–” 

“No. None of that. We’re not playing the blame game. I am sitting right here. I am okay. That is more than I could have asked for coming out of that. I watched as he–you were…” 

Steve’s eyes widened, realizing that he didn’t know what Vecna had shown you. 

“I’m okay.” He whispered back. You let your eyes rake over his body, doing your own inventory of things to check up on. 

He was wearing your favorite pair of his jeans, with a blue crewneck that had a couple of buttons up at the top that were unbuttoned. “I love when you wear this outfit Steve. It brings out your eyes.” 

He looked at you. “And there they are,” you said softly, wiping away a tear off of his cheek.

“I should be comforting you.” He laughed, trying to turn away from you. 

“And you will be. I can guarantee it. But I just want to make sure you’re okay before I completely devolve for the next couple of hours.” You were only half joking, and Steve knew that too. 

You leaned forward, eyes fluttering shut, and your lips touched his. He placed an arm around you, as if you were going to shatter at any more contact. He sighed, feeling your breath as you kissed. 

Eventually, you pulled away and rested your forehead on his. “So give it to me straight Doc.” You whispered. “How bad is it out there.” 

Steve almost let out a giggle. “It’s so bad. Like comically, super villain bad.” 

“Is everyone okay?” 

Steve shook his head. “Can we just sit here? I just want to have you for myself for a while.”  he whispered. “I wanna be selfish.” 

You nodded, kissing his cheek one more time before resting your head in the crook of his neck, hugging him tightly, and promising to not let go for a long, long time.

As he held you, you started to sing quietly, enjoying the feeling of your arms in his. Your happiest memory, recreating it whenever you can. His warmth permeating your skin, his lips on your forehead, the pretty sigh that left his lips when you started singing. 

“But in your dreams, whatever they be, Dream a Little Dream of Me.” 

[diodellet]

what can i do for you? (jamil viper x gn!reader*)

i am not ok after seeing jamil's clubwear SSR. when he dropped, i ended up dropping an extra 2k words for this chapter. sige na nga, ill give u more fluff and bliss ser viper🤧 content warnings: -anachronistic (it is set during the main story of twst, but no references to overblots) -g/n reader described as having thick, long, not-straight hair -mix of jp and en terms -gratuitous headcanoning of how nrc classes work -light references to nightmares and bullying word count: 7.1k words chapter 1: just let me do this for you

chapter 2: take my hand like you mean it

You were a capable set of extra hands, to Jamil's surprise. Well, as long as you weren't put in front of a stove. Chores that were usually tedious, like mopping and waxing the floors of certain hallways in the dorm, feeding the animals and cleaning their enclosures—in this case, removing the curtains and draperies that decorated the lounge area for laundry—took more or less have the usual time it required.

"Can you reach it?"

"I don't think so... I'm going to jump—"

"Don't jump!" His hold on the stepladder tightened as you stood up on your tiptoes.

You grunted, stretching your arm out to unhook the cloth. "But I'll be able to reach it that way..."

"Just let me do it—" A section of the scarlet cloth fell on top of him. He pulled it away to see your sheepish expression. "Never mind, get down from there."

You carefully climbed down, immediately going to pick up the other hand of the curtain and helping him fold it. Then, the both of you moved to repeat the process for the rest of the draperies in the lounge.

The golden rays of the afternoon sun streamed into the room, now unhindered from the lack of curtains. You paused to stare out into the surroundings, not one bit bothered by the heat. In fact, you seemed to soak up the warmth. The serene expression that washed over your features was quickly replaced with mild discomfort.

“If you’re tired, you can leave the rest of it to me,” Jamil said, snapping you out of your reverie.

You shook your head, folding the curtain in half and stepping closer to pass your end to him. “I’m good, I’m good. I just…” Your fingers carded through the ends of your ponytail. “Does it ever rain here? I know rain in the desert is a thing, but if the dorms are like a sort of pocket dimension, then does it follow regular weather?”

Sometimes, Kalim liked to make it rain. Whenever he saw the plants in the gardens wilting, whenever they trekked out to a dried-up oasis, whenever he heard his fellow dormmates complaining about the dry heat of Scarabia. Jamil didn’t have any strong feelings for rain, but a part of him—the part that was stubbornly curious about you, felt as if the question wasn’t one from random inquiry. 

“It does, occasionally. The weather is independent from the main campus though, if that’s what you’re asking.” He started walking towards the laundry area, carrying the folded-up curtains.

“...Huh, cool.” You trailed behind him, your arms were swallowed up by the sheer volume of fabric. “I think I prefer sunny weather though. Reminds me of home.”

What was your hometown like in your original world? Did you come from a place that was always bright with sunlight? Or were you more used to the persistent scent of petrichor, to cloudy gray skies? Though if he asked, he knew that you wouldn’t be able to give much of an answer.

“That’s nice. Watch your step.” As soon as he said that, you stumbled, foot catching on the trailing ends of the curtain. He shifted what he was carrying to one hand and caught you by the back of your uniform’s jacket. 

You quickly righted yourself and apologized, “sorry, um. Thank you.” You ran your gaze along the part of the fabric you stepped on as you gathered it into your arms once again.

“It’s going to be washed anyway.” Jamil let go of your blazer. The use of the upperclassman honorific in place of his name slowly became more frequent with each visit, he noted.

Ironic, seeing as how you were completely at ease with him during your first meeting.

In the laundry area, hampers containing his and Kalim’s used clothes were already sitting there. He figured he could kill two birds with one stone, and do it at the same time. 

The curtains were vacuumed every week, but it had been a while since they were properly cleaned. And in a place as sandy as the Scarabia dorm, they were pretty much due for a washing. While the fabric didn’t contain designs as elaborate as the ones that decorated the Asim estate, it was still provided by said family. Tailored, not manufactured, for the renovated dorm and worth more than what he would ever amount to. He sorted through the fabrics, which ones were good to throw into the laundry machine and which ones had to be strictly washed by hand.

He nodded towards the latter. “I’ll handle these.” 

“Is this too much detergent?” 

“You could use a little more.” 

Another thing he noticed about you, was that you were, for lack of a better word, quiet. Rarely did you ever ask questions about how to do or where to find things, only needing a glance around the room. He initially attributed it to the fact that you spent a large chunk of your first days here fixing up your dorm to be at least livable, to make the most of your meager belongings. But behind the awkwardly polite demeanor you wore, there was an experienced and practiced characteristic to how you carried out your work. The kind that was ingrained into muscle memory after years. 

When you were alone, did your shoulders sag with bone-deep exhaustion? Did you ache from constant daily exertion? And if he were to hold your hand, would he feel the remnants of calluses and blisters?

“Did…did I do something wrong?” you asked, before closing the machine and letting it run its cycle.

“No, you didn’t.” He brought out a small stool for you to sit on.

Jamil could feel the weight of your gaze prickling the back of his neck. You spoke up after a few seconds of silence,  “do you need help with that?”

“No, I can manage this.” In fact, he could make quick work of it. There weren’t any stains that he needed to remove, for once. He filled an empty basin with water and let the fabric soak in the detergent.

“Alright…” you acquiesced, leaning your elbows on your thighs and resting your chin on your palms.

The rumble of the machines, combined with the slosh of water filled the room. Not that he was the most interesting conversationalist to be with, but he was grateful for the ambient noise.

“It’d be nice… if we had our own washing machine for Ramshackle,” you blurted out.

Jamil supposed that the once-abandoned dorm was equipped with all the necessary amenities during its time of use. But if you and Grim were the newest and only living residents, then— “Did Headmaster Crowley not replace the dorm’s appliances?” He rolled up his sleeves before rinsing out the draperies. If he wasn’t careful, he could tear the delicate cloth.

At your silence, he turned to glance at you, meeting your gaze. You gave a slow shake of your head before turning back to watch the machine in front of you. “I had to do it by hand at first—which is fine! Completely fine with me, actually—but everything in that dorm was on the verge of collapse. I kinda feel scared to touch it.”

“If you’re looking for a place to do your laundry…” This wasn’t the place to do it. He was up to his neck in responsibilities, spontaneous and planned. He gave the contents one last rinse then deemed it clean enough to be dried, emptying the basin and wringing out the fabrics.

“Hm? Oh, no, I mean, the ghosts showed me how to use it.” You pondered on your next words, standing up to take the freshly laundered fabrics out. “I just…think that getting a new one would end up erasing what they taught me.”

“The ghosts have been around for a long time. They’re more than used to seeing people come and go.” He flicked the water off his hands.  “what more for a broken machine?”

Your head tilted to the side. “...I guess so. ”

The room fell into silence once more as he hung the finished laundry on a metal drying rack.

“We still need to hang these outside.” He tossed a set of clothespins into a basket before passing it to you. The both of you left the laundry area, stepping outside. The clear, sunny weather showed no signs of diminishing and there was a pleasant breeze. With the area he chose, he wouldn’t have to worry about sand and dust getting kicked up by the wind.

“Henchmaaan!”

Your head searched for Grim spotting him bounding towards you on all fours. You threw the curtain over the clothesline before catching him in your arms. “What’s wrong? Where’s Kalim?”

“I dunno and I don’t care, let’s go back home!" Jamil guessed that even Grim had his limits.

At those words, he could hear the dorm leader’s voice calling out for Grim.

"Gyah, you gotta hide me!" He burrowed into your jacket, pitchfork-shaped tail jutting out.

You shared a look with Jamil, confusion furrowing your brow. “Did…something bad happen—ow, Grim your nails!”

“Probably not.” Jamil said as he clipped another curtain onto the line. The fabric billowed in the wind, the finely-spun thread catching the rays of sunlight. He stole a glance at you, standing on the opposite side of the clothesline. Grim was balancing on your shoulders as you talked to him.

“If you made him angry—” Kalim and the word ‘angry’ in the same sentence? That would have been something to see, Jamil thought to himself. “—you’re going to have to apologize to him,” you said as you straightened out another piece of fabric before hanging it.

“He’s…he’s not mad!” Grim protested, tail flicking back and forth. “But he kept taking me everywhere and pinching my tail, and I had enough!”

That sounded like something Kalim would do. His ears then picked up the sound of his footsteps, combined with the sounds of his accessories and jewelry clinking and chiming.

“There you are, Grim!” There goes Jamil’s two hours of solace and quiet.

Grim wailed, hiding behind your legs and putting you squarely in between him and Kalim. “I don’t wanna go with you!”

“Um…if you don’t mind me asking,” There it was again, the use of that honorific in place of Kalim’s name. “What happened a while ago?” Your hands picked at your fingers.

The dorm leader explained that the fire-monster got bored of studying, so Kalim suggested a few fun things they could do around the dorm. It started out with a few board games, followed by a visit to the animals, and then just before he could take Grim on a spontaneous flying carpet ride, the fire-monster ran away to find you. That meant Jamil had to do some extra cleanup after he finished putting away the laundry. Great.

“Oh, I see...” Your confusion didn’t let up but you continued without losing a beat, “so, while I—we appreciate your kind intentions, I think that’s my cue to help Grim study… Maybe you could take him flying next time?” 

Kalim nodded in understanding. “Next time then. Oh! By the way, I’m throwing a party this weekend, we could do it then! Would you like to come?”

Your fidgeting paused. “It sounds fun, I just… I wouldn’t know anyone there?” It was clear you didn’t want to go.

“But you know me, and you know Jamil. And Grim can come along too!”

“...Um…I don’t—I guess I do, but…” Your gaze momentarily flicked to Jamil then back to Kalim.

He took your hands in his, eyes shining with undeterred excitement. “The food’ll be good! And, and, I could introduce you to my other friends too! It’ll be fun, I promise!” Guess Jamil had to step in.

“Kalim. They’re probably going to be busy on the weekend.” Or, from what he gathered, you just didn’t seem very extraverted. Surprisingly, he still had an iota of patience that he could inject into his tone. “Just invite them another time, when their schedule’s freed up.”

Thankfully, the dorm leader let go of your hands and didn’t push any further. “Just tell me when, and I’ll make sure to plan something for you, alright?”

You only gave him a stiff smile in acknowledgement. 

Truth be told, Jamil didn’t plan on letting you continue to visit. At first, you would always get lost in the dorm, somehow ending up in a room on the complete opposite end of where you were trying to get to. And since Grim would always accompany you, the more the fire monster grew comfortable to his new after school hangout spot, the more of a menace he became. Your time went into chasing Grim around Scarabia, keeping him away from the kitchens while Jamil was cooking. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if you reached the point of having to babysit Kalim as well. 

He could go on and on with his nitpicking, but none of it could take away from the fact that you were efficient. Somehow, you managed to take away a portion of the work that burdened him everyday.

[...]

Apparently, he wasn’t completely right about your ability to efficiently manage your studies.

His class was in the library, doing some preliminary research for a paper to be submitted later in the semester. He sat on one of the outer seats of the table his group was using. They were situated in a relatively quiet section of the library. Most of the noise came from the tables near the entrance and the sections with the resources that were most appropriate for the paper’s subject matter. 

Said noise and chatter would only grow louder with the arrival of a first-year class. Jamil could hear the librarian already admonishing them. What Jamil would give to be able to throw on his headphones. He flipped the page of the book he was reading. A few passages proved to be somewhat promising, he took note of the important points, condensing them for easy reference—

“Grim! That’s not the right map!”

Something clattered noisily on the table. “Whaat? I was doing it exactly like you told me.” 

“No…no, it’s wrong, it’s—we have to redo it, all of it.” The frantic flutter of papers combined with Grim’s drawn-out whine.

“Actually, I think you guys forgot about the time zone, it’s not on Sage Island remember?” Ace cut in.

“Argh, I forgot about that—” A thud against the table surface interrupted your words. Any louder, and Jamil supposed that the librarian would materialize right at your side.

“Guys, the librarian’s looking at us…” Deuce’s voice wasn’t that much quieter than yours, but at least he wasn’t completely ignoring his surroundings.

Your voice lowered to a non-discreet whisper. “What does your solution look like?”

“I got this for my answer.” Your group fell silent, reading over his work.

Ace then spoke up, “...ohh. It looks correct—hey, don’t start crying on the paper!”

“I’m gonna—we’re gonna fail, I don’t get it, I don’t get any of it—” 

“Why do we need to manually calculate this? Can’t we just use that fancy crystal ball like the teacher does?” Grim complained.

Ah, first-year Astrology. Now your group’s reaction made sense.

“Hey, those freshmen are starting to be pretty annoying. Should I tell them off?” Jamil’s gaze moved from the book to his classmate. He noticed that he was the only person who had an open book, everyone else was either on their phones or leaning closer to continue in hushed voices.

“Ugh, I was waiting for someone to say something about them.” 

“If you don’t do it, I’m gonna complain to the librarian. See how they like gettin’ thrown out into the hall…”

Without making a sound, Jamil pushed his chair back and left the table. Moved two—no, four shelves down to be away from the confrontation when it happened. Not that the distance did anything to lessen the fact that he could still hear the short screech of the chairs being pushed back, whispers slowly growing into an argument, Grim hissing as a warning—

That didn’t concern you. He pushed it out of his mind, put all his focus into scanning the titles along the shelf. A memoir from an author who was prominent in the connected field of study, a collection of similar studies published under NRC, his group could use these. He tucked the books under his arm and went to the front desk. “Excuse me, I would like to borrow these,” he said, setting them down on the wooden surface and filling out the cards at the back.

The irate expression on the librarian’s face didn’t let up. The force of him stamping the cards was strong enough to make the desk shake. But judging from the bits of quiet angry muttering that Jamil could hear, the librarian didn’t seem to have any plans of approaching the area where your group was located. He passed the books back to Jamil and waved him off.

The commotion didn’t seem to have escalated too badly by the time he returned. His groupmates were now just talking about their afterschool plans, counting the minutes until they were dismissed. One of his classmates’ tie was crooked, the collar of his shirt wrinkled possibly from being grabbed. Another was cradling a fresh scratch mark along his wrist. Jamil glanced over to your group’s table—Deuce was going over a worksheet with you. You were absentmindedly scratching the base of Grim’s ear. And Ace was leaning back in his chair. The look in his irises didn’t match his relaxed demeanor—their eyes met and Jamil only gave a small nod in greeting before he busied himself with arranging his belongings.

The rest of Jamil’s day went on without much issue. As soon as afternoon training concluded, he was surprised to see Kalim waiting for him so they could walk back to Scarabia together. The conversation was light, nothing noteworthy. Kalim knew how to speak for two people, he could make a conversation out of anything and carry it for seemingly forever. The problem only started when he would get caught up in his excitement, and since Jamil was talking about Kalim, this happened on a regular basis. Complaining about it wouldn’t amount to anything.

As he changed into his dorm uniform, his phone buzzed. You tended to message right before going through the mirror. The gesture of…courtesy started to make less sense the more your visits became a regular thing. It was still convenient, don’t get him wrong. Though… maybe it was just a bit weird, the more he thought about it. 

He read over his reply twice and sent it before going to meet you at the dorm’s entrance.

[...]

“Henchman, y’have to try this!” Grim hopped off the kitchen’s tabletop and trotted over to you.

“Grim, we have to head back before six so I can tea—” Your sentence was cut off by the fire-monster pushing his half-eaten pita wrap into your face. You took a bite and made a pleased sound before going, “wait Grim it’s too spicy—!”

Jamil handed you a glass of water. He saw Grim pour an obscene amount of sauce over his serving. Not that you would know, having just returned from replacing the vacuum cleaner. He would’ve insisted that he should be the one to do it, but Kalim and Grim started bugging him for something to eat. And Grim, unbridled menace that he was, wouldn’t shut up unless his demands were met. 

Kalim chimed into the conversation, “are you going back that soon?”

“Yeah?” You knocked a fist against your chest, stifling another coughing fit. “Well, I—we don’t wanna impose… so we’ll leave early.” You took another drink of water then wiped at your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Aww, but I don’t wanna study Astrology…”

“But I’m the one who has to teach you, you rascal.” Your hand ruffled the top of his head.

Grim backed away from you to leap up onto the table. Not that it added much to his height. “Myargh, don’ call me that! Y’don’t even understand it either!” When you pointed an exasperated stare at the fire-monster, he continued to protest, “but it’s Friday! Studying during the weekends should be illegal!”

“I’m sorry, we’ll start getting out of your hair in a bit…” You turned to the both of them, sheepish and apologetic.

“No, no it’s okay.” Kalim waved off your words cheerfully. “You were saying something about Astrology…? Are you having trouble with that class?” He took the last serving of pita wrap and passed it to you.

Jamil took the empty plate and brought it to the sink. 

Accepting the snack, you winced. “Well… u-um, every class has its challenges, you know?”

“Liar! Y’were cryin’ snot all over our worksheet!”

Embarrassment filled your voice. “Grim!” 

“Well, if it’s Astrology that’s giving you trouble, then you’re in the right place!” Kalim gestured with a wide sweep of his arms. “Did you know that you can see the stars really easily here? You could stay over for dinner and—” he paused, then his smile widened even more.

Jamil knew what that expression meant, that meant the dorm leader was going to suggest something outlandish.

“—we could take the flying carpet! I did that with Jamil when I was also having a hard time with that class in my first year. It’ll be fun, don’t you think?”

Jamil kept his head down, focused on the plates in front of him, the faint smell of dish soap, the cool running water against his hands. But he couldn’t tear his ears away from the conversation.

“Um… but curfew…” 

“You could sleep over for the night!”

“Sweet~! We really lucked ou—ack!” Grim’s cheer was cut off by you, continuing to decline on his part.

“No, it’s really fine, Grim ‘nd me’ll start leaving right now—”

“Don’t worry about that! We have plenty of spare rooms, don’t we?” He looked to Jamil for confirmation. The unbridled excitement in Kalim’s irises sent a wave of irritation through him.

A strained laugh left your throat. “Um, I appreciate the invitation, but respectfully, I must turn it down…” you paused, considering what to say, “...seeing as how none of us have brought overnight clothes…”

“Why’re you suddenly talking like that? You don’t need to be formal with us. I insist!”

“I really don’t think it’s okay for us to overstay—” You tried protesting for the third time.

“Lots of people sleep over at Scarabia, it’s no big deal!” Yes, Jamil could remember the times where he found Silver slumped over in a pile of pillows from the lounge, the several instances where Floyd invited himself to stay over “for funsies,” and of course, he couldn’t leave out the bi-monthly Light Music Club sleepovers with Lilia and Cater.

“Um…” 

“Stop scruffin’ me, henchman! Kalim’s got a point, doesn’t he?”

Kalim’s voice softened. “Look, you’re practically one of us at this point. It’s fine, really.”

That. That unwavering honesty in his words and how it easily spilled from him. It was careless how freely and earnestly he spoke. But above all, it was enviable. Only a young rich heir could find the capacity to be that open and kind and generous and Jamil could feel a headache pinching at his temple. He placed the cleaned dishes on the drying rack. It took every ounce of his self-control not to set them aside with a clatter.

You didn’t seem to have any rebuttals prepared. 

Jamil discarded his irritation, easily plastering on the neutral expression he always carried. “Do you have your books and notes?”

You nodded. 

“Make sure to bring it with you after dinner. I’ll tutor you both.” The sensation of having everyone’s eyes on him was uncomfortable against his skin. 

“...alright.” Maybe the same could be said for you. “C’mon Grim.”

Now that the kitchen was mostly cleaned up, he needed to prepare a room for you and Grim, find a spare dorm uniform in good condition, then go back to the kitchen to prepare dinner. His internal list of responsibilities to work through shifted to make space for this extra work.

The moment of discomfort didn’t last for long though, Jamil refused to let it linger. Because if it lingered, then that meant he would have to figure out why his irritation was being overtaken with uneasiness. And if he thought about it more then he’d have to…

He stole a glance at you, keeping up with his pace. For once you weren’t trailing behind him like you usually did when you visited Scarabia. You looked like you were half-listening to whatever Grim and Kalim were talking about.

Articulate as he was, he couldn’t name the expression you were wearing. Whatever it was, there was a deeper emotion to it and Jamil found it hard to look at.

[...]

“Look, look I’m matching with you guys now.” You rested a hand on your hip. After a few beats, your expression faltered. “I didn’t wear anything backwards, did I?”

“You didn’t.” Save for the golden accessories that every student from Scarabia wore, the uniform seemed to fit you well. Not too loose or uncomfortably tight, the hem of the vest and undershirt were neatly smoothed out. Just like how you presented yourself in the NRC uniform. “It looks good,” he said.

“Really? It feels super comfy. Well…” you paused, looking down at yourself. “I guess the belt is just a bit long…” 

“You can shorten it by doing this.” He stepped closer to you, taking hold of the trailing end and fixing it so that it wouldn’t trail down to your ankles. But in adjusting the belt, part of the undershirt had risen up. The habit of fixing Kalim’s clothes kicked in before he could catch himself.

Jamil’s hands brushed against your hips as he gently tugged the hem of the undershirt back down. He double-checked the belt and smoothed it out once more. At the sudden contact, you tensed up, breath hitching quietly. Several sheets of your epherimedes slipped from your notes as your arms came up by reflex, placing a sort of makeshift barrier between him and you.

Thankfully, instead of mentioning the proximity—the breach of personal space—you asked, "where's Kalim? I thought he said he was going with us." 

Jamil picked up the fallen sheets of paper, passing them to you. "He turned in for the night." Well, Kalim was intent on staying up late, but Jamil had already tried waking him up once. To which the dorm leader responded by burrowing deeper into his blankets. Jamil motioned for you to follow him.

“So did Grim. I told him that we were still going to study but…” You sighed, shoulders slumping forward a bit. “...I guess I’ll just make sure to tutor him tomorrow morning.”

It was late in the evening now. The moon hung high in the sky, an upside-down bowl. The sound of your footsteps echoed through the empty hallways. Filling in the silence as Jamil weighed his words. “You’re very diligent.”

You laughed. But the sound was derisive, directed—stabbing—at yourself. “Diligence doesn’t mean much when you earn poor results.”

He thought back to what he overheard in the library. “Don’t be hard on yourself.” To his surprise, his words didn’t feel the same as the empty platitudes he would regurgitate for Kalim. “This isn’t my first time tutoring Astrology.”

And it would reflect badly on his dorm if he couldn’t recall what he learned in the first year, the afterthought needed to be there. To remind him of his responsibility. Because now his mind was catching up to the fact that it was only going to be you and him, and that thought wasn’t supposed to be so… bothersome.

"Are you really okay with it?” He knew that you were talking about having to be an impromptu tutor, your words held a hint of guilt and concern. And even if a part of him was aware that it came from a genuine place, it only made him feel small.

The automatic response came out, albeit a bit more curt and clipped than he intended. “I’m used to it.”

You didn’t say anything more, only muttering a quiet ‘oh, I see.’

The walk to the treasury was quiet, and your silence spoke volumes. It was as if he could hear the gears in your head turning. Despite your reserved nature, you were a mediator through and through, just like Kalim was.

If he said that he wasn’t okay with being volunteered to tutor others, that wouldn’t exempt him from being made to do so either way. He didn’t have a choice in the first place. The least you could do was make the ordeal less painstaking than it already was for him.

Jamil’s hand rested on the doorknob of the room. “Look, the sooner we go, the sooner we can get this done. You can manage that, can’t you?” 

The guilt on your features gave way to a determined nod. “Okay, I won’t waste your time,” you promised.

He thought back to the pinky promise you first made. And he pushed the door to the treasury open. “Don’t expect me to hold your hand through the subject though.”

“I know that!” Your voice was pitched high from embarrassment. “You won’t have to start right from the beginning!”

At least you were standing behind him, you wouldn’t have to see the startings of a grin cracking across his face.

“You aren’t afraid of heights, are you?” Jamil asked as he searched around for the flying carpet. The magical artifact greeted you both with a wave of its tassels. It followed the both of you out of the treasury, curling and twisting in mid-air. 

You stared. “...oh…we’re gonna fly…”

“Yes—wait, what did you think we were going to do?” Now that you were all outside the main building, the carpet laid itself flat on the ground. The cool night air was a complete reversal of the day’s heat.

“I don’t know! I-I thought Scarabia had some special observatory I wasn’t aware of!”

He gave you an exasperated look. “Are you sure you’re okay with flying?”

“Yes, I’m…I’m not scared of heights… only falling and breaking my bones…” You took a seat next to him. Your hold on your notes was tight enough to crease the edges of paper that jutted out.

Jamil supposed that you were saying that to convince yourself. Judging by the way that your eyes were squeezed shut, his suspicions were only further confirmed. He guided the carpet to slowly ascend, flying high enough so that your view of the sky wouldn’t be obscured by Scarabia’s buildings.

Your trepidation melted away as you took in the night sky. "Woah, the star maps don't do this view any justice…" you breathed.

"Don't get sidetracked now." 

"Right, right. Sorry, um…" You opened the textbook and started rattling off what part of the lesson you were at. You showed him the graded worksheets and your notes.

As Jamil listened to you, he read over your handwriting. Somewhat messy, but still readable. Granted, while there were some missing segments in your solutions, you seemed to make sure to include the final answer. Was it a way to challenge yourself instead of copying another classmate’s solution? Or were you intent on figuring it out all by yourself? He guessed it was the latter. 

The both of you pored over the material. Redoing the problems you got wrong, filling in the parts of the discussion that you missed. Jamil noticed however that you had trouble comparing the actual night sky with the maps you brought along. 

“Wait, which star?” Your brow furrowed as you tried to follow the direction he was pointing at.

He tipped your chin up, keeping his other arm parallel to your gaze. “It’s a dim constellation, so you have to look at the surroundings to be able to spot it. ”

 A short, frustrated exhale escaped you. “I still can’t find it.”

“Keep trying.” From his perspective, the end of the star pattern rested just barely atop his fingertip.

He could feel the short baby hairs framing the side of your face brush up against his arm as you continued to search for the constellation. Eventually your confusion dissipated and your eyes lit up with recognition “Oh, I see it now! So then that means…” You looked back down at your notes, flipped through the pages, then started hastily writing down a few messy calculations. All the while indifferent to the fact that his hand was still resting on your shoulder. 

“Is this correct?” You tilted your notes towards him.

He scanned what you wrote. “...you used the wrong time zone.” 

You swore. “Ugh, I keep forgetting about that.” Your eraser scratched at the specific part of the mistake, making the needed corrections. “Are the advanced classes just as math-filled?” you asked as you redid the solution. “I feel like we’re almost doing rocket science.”

“No, they’re more reliant on magical ability. Scrying, cartomancy, even astrology, when done right can be powerful tools to guide a magician.” So far, so good. He noted as he skimmed your handwriting. “The better you are, the more vivid your visions. Or so they say.” 

“Do you believe in that? Things like seeing the future and all that?”

Of course not, he held back a scoff. His entire fate was neatly laid out in front of him by his parents and their ancestors. His destiny rested in the palm of a naive heir full of ignorance and misplaced kindness. His home, his own family, and the prestige they carried was a flimsily-disguised birdcage. Why, he wanted nothing more than to carve out his own path with his bare hands, to just up and leave everything behind. Fate, chance, and destiny be damned. 

Instead he settled on this for a short answer. “I think it’s foolish to hinge everything on fate.”

“I thought you’d say something like that,” you laughed. “Rational, practical, down-to-earth Jamil.” Not one bit of the sound felt demeaning, and there’s a note of something…fond in the way you said his name.

Too close. “Don’t tell me you believe otherwise.” He pulled away from you and leaned back on his palms. The magic that powered the carpet thrummed underneath his fingertips, steady as the ebb and flow of the ocean’s waves. He pointed his gaze towards the half-moon floating in a sea of stars, adamantly turning away from your crescent-eyed smile. His stomach felt uneasy, it was as if he was helplessly suspended in between two moons.

“It’s not that I completely believe in it or the other way around, but I came from a magicless world so I gotta…” You hummed thoughtfully as you flipped through your ephemerides. “...think of it as something real now.”

The two of you lapsed into silence, accompanied by the sound of the wind and the flutter of the carpet. Was it supposed to feel this comfortable, being in another person’s space and having them in his own? With this stillness, the both of you were no different from the celestial objects painting the night sky. You were deeply engrossed in your work, oblivious to what your words were stirring.

The scratch of your pencil against paper stopped before his thoughts spiraled out of control. “Okay… is this right?” He thinks he’s composed himself enough to be able to spare a glance.

“Mm, it’s right.” His hand toyed with the edge of his hood. The triumphant gleam in your eyes was blinding. 

“So, it’s good?” 

He flipped through the textbook then tapped at another sample problem. “Do this one next, then we’ll see.”

“What? That wasn’t discussed in class!” 

“It’s like the last problem, you’ll figure it out.” 

Despite your initial complaints, the rest of the tutoring went by relatively well. You weren’t merely echoing what he was saying. Save for some minor mistakes, you seemed less daunted by the subject compared to before. As long as you took your time working through the problems, Jamil was sure that you would do well enough. But just before you descended back to the dorm’s main building, he had you write down the lesson’s main points. Just to be sure. You were still going to be responsible for teaching Grim in the morning, after all.

“Solid ground, thank God! I was about to freeze up there.” A shiver passed through your body despite your light-hearted laugh. As you were about to walk past him, Jamil grabbed your wrist.

The tips of your fingers were cold. “Why didn’t you say anything?” The tone he used must’ve come out sharper than intended, you flinched before answering.

“Well, because we were already there and you said…the sooner we went, the sooner we’d finish…” you reasoned weakly.

He sighed. “Give me your other hand.”

“I’m fine, really! Just give me a sec—” Your protests fell silent as he shushed you and cupped your hands in his.

Warmth spread from his palms to yours, a simple heating charm. Your hands relaxed in his hold. A stubborn part of him chalked it up to the needed change in temperature.

“Better?” His own cheeks felt warm. It’s the residual magic, he rationalized, the fact that he didn’t use his pen to cast it.

You gave a small nod in response. Your gaze continued to stare at your linked hands.

The edge of your palms were rough, hardened from work. If he shifted his hold, he could feel the bump of a callus on the side of your favored hand.

He let go. “I still need to put the carpet back in the treasury.”

"...no." The word was uttered so quietly that he strained to hear it.

"What?"

Your head snapped up. The moment you made eye contact with each other, Jamil noticed your eyes were blown wide. As if you were a deer caught in the headlights—you reached forwards and yanked his hood over his head. His vision went dark, tearing a surprised noise from his throat. He heard the sound of the drawstrings being pulled taut, followed by the sensation of you pushing him and turning to run away. He stumbled backwards.

Fumbling for the drawstrings of his uniform’s hood, he bit back a curse.

The strings were double-knotted.

[...]

Like every other person, Jamil had dreams. Of reliving certain childhood memories, of being chased and feeling like he was running through water, of having his teeth fall out. Once upon a time, he dreamt of being able to travel around the world once he grew up.

He doesn’t immediately recognize this as a dream. For all he knew, this was one of his usual days at Night Raven College. Robotically going through the motions, running to and fro at Kalim’s behest, reigning in his emotions, staying average and mediocre.

The sound of his class lectures sounded faraway, as if the professors were speaking through water. But as the day continued, he could also hear bits and pieces of your voice. One-sided scraps of conversations, you calling out for your friends, the sound of your laughter ringing in his ears, they all stood out against the muffled voices and hazy figures populating the school. Every time he searched, he would only catch a glimpse of your back as you entered a different classroom or the end of your ponytail as you would round a corner. And just before he catch up to you, he would only find a red feather lying on the ground.

It was as if you were a ghost.

He had other things to focus on. He made his way to Scarabia’s mirror and stepped through the glass, arriving at his old room in the servant’s quarters.

Why was he here? Everything was where he left it, untouched and undisturbed. But that did little to tamp down on his rising unease. He turned back to the door and found it locked. The windows were also locked, he was trapped—

The walls fell away to reveal an intricate and ornate birdcage, constructed out of gold, tall enough to reach the ceiling. No longer was he standing on solid ground, he was a little bird standing on a small perch now. No better than the numerous ornaments that decorated the Asim estate. 

The door to the room opened revealing you. Dressed in the fine robes of his hometown, golden accessories decorated your wrists, neck, and ears. Your hair was adorned with a single, red macaw’s feather. You looked no different from a noble. A vision to behold. You unlocked the cage and carried him out. He was small enough to fit in your palms.

You gave him a soft smile and smoothed down his feathers. His wings were pinned to his sides but you were careful not to press too hard against the fragile bones. “You weren’t meant to be caged, little one,” you said, walking towards the open window.

No, he couldn’t fly, he couldn’t soar. He couldn’t do anything except flail about helplessly in your hold. Useless birdsong spilled from his throat. Each step you took brought him closer and closer to that endless blue sky. He didn’t dare look down.

He could feel the wind now. A light gust that would’ve felt refreshing now sent a spike of adrenaline through his veins. The only thing separating him from the ground was your gentle hold. His breathing quickened, don’t let me go, please don’t let me go—

You were speaking but he couldn’t make out any of the words. Your cupped palms dipped once before throwing him into the blue sky.

And then he was falling down, down, down.

Flapping his clipped wings.

Wind rushing against him.

Blood roaring in his ears.

Screaming mutely until his throat felt raw.

He was going to hit the ground and break all his bones and die why was it taking so long—

Jamil’s eyes cracked open. The first thing he saw was the darkened ceiling of his bedroom. He was still in Scarabia. He sat up and scrubbed a hand over his face. A glance at his phone screen told him he woke up two hours before his alarm was set to ring.

Might as well get started for the day.

The dream would be quickly forgotten. He would go through the latter classes of the day with a building headache. Even Kalim would notice his discomfort, but his attempts at concern would be waved off. 

It was just a dream. And he knew better than to dream.

chapter 3: you're afraid to believe it A/N: first i'd like to thank @jessamine-rose for beta-ing this fic, your fresh eyes were very helpful in convincing me i wasn't going completely crazy😭😭 For my dear readers, i think now would be a good time to mention that I am primarily an angst and hurt/comfort writer so... part 3 will take a bit of a while since i have to resolve all Those Feelings ahhhh.... anyways! i hope you enjoyed reading this, don't be afraid to rb and holler in the tags, i treasure each and every comment💕💕

[kinnenvy]

In defense of season five Brian Kinney

(this has been in my drafts for months because i'm scared to post it sjkfhs)

We all feel a certain kind of way about season five, it's like... kind of unfortunate from beginning to end lmao. BUT STILL the one thing that I will always do is try to defend that babygirl, I will carry him out of the storm of criticism princess style and take him home on a white horse.

disclaimer: this is a confused stream of consciousness and I will get some things wrong because it's the season I've watched the least lol.

Why does Brian act the way he does? We know why he acts a certain way throughout the series and to me his behaviour in s5 is not that unwarranted or different from the other seasons.

1) At the end of season 4 he asks Justin to move in, he talks about wanting to spend more time with Gus, but does any of it happen? no.

Justin leaves and Brian is happy and proud of him, but honestly I would also see why that would make him feel a certain kind of way. He already thinks he doesn't deserve love and companionship and one of the few times he asks for it he doesn't get it. He prepares a trip to go see Justin, but at the last second he decides not to go, he gets cold feet because it sound like Justin is leaving him forever. Sort of, kind of, but it's enough. The same happens with Gus (imo). Like he's accepted that with time all his relationships will end and no one actually wants him to fight for them, because no one actually likes him enough to want to stick around. But do you know who will always stay by his side? Michael. Until...

2) Confession... I don't hate the assimilation plotline. It was handled horribly, but I still think it's pretty cool they dedicated so much time to it. They were doing this in the early 2000s and now most lgbtq+ media can't handle to seriously get anywhere close to it.

Brian and Michael's roles are on the opposite spectrum of the debate and Justin ping pongs between them way too pointedly, because (imo) the writers decided to use him as a plot device instead of a character. (Unironically to me Justin feels the most like Justin when he is being a dick to his mom about her boyfriend) (and even then I find myself questioning whether s4 Justin would do or say any of that)

ANYWAY Brian sees his best friend/brother travel where he can't follow him. Michael has a family, he is married, he has a house in the suburbs, new, more mature friends and Brian is looking at him from afar, wondering why he suddenly thinks the life they've shared is a meaningless, shameful thing of the past. Not directly, but in a way wondering why Michael can't just accept him the way he is anymore.

BTW Brian might have celebrated the wedding of his friends... but that doesn't mean he changed his mind on weddings as a whole. Actually his wildest marriage nightmares are proven right by the two married couples he knows. He probably looks at Mel and Lindsay destroying each other, stuck in a legal battle with Michael /and/ Ben, looks at the kids trapped in that mess and is glad that will never be him.

UNTIL IT IS. Justin, in his infinite wisdom, decides he wants all of that actually and he tries to "tame" (quoting Cowlip) Brian until he leaves him behind because the domestication isn't sticking and him alone is not worth as much as weddings and kids. There's supposed to be something MORE. Staying with Brian suddenly means settling for something lesser than what Michael has. This process starts way before the break up (talks of... puppies?) and it's there where (imo) Brian just breaks.

No Michael, no Justin, constant talk of marriage and kids and divorce and custody. No one fucking cares Brian has a reason to behave the way he does. It's normal to want different things in life, but no one in the cast has experienced what Brian has and no one tries to understand it and understand what he wants and why either.

Brian's entire existence in the series is being questioned: his worth, what he has to offer, what he can't/won't give as well as what he can/will give, what HE IS, everything amounts to literally nothing. he is being left by everyone, he's wrong and not enough. Meanwhile he hates being alone, he's needy and touch starved and sweet, he needs his special people around, but why would he ask them to stay, when they make it so clear that they think he is not worth anything? (he's left with literally only Lindsay who is so bad at keeping her mouth shut and just offering support and Ted who's mostly just thinking about his own dick 24/7 and is more of a distraction than anything else).

The only gateway to attention and affection he has left is sex except that isn't working as well anymore.

[2.2) (little aside about Justin) To me he is a bit like a moth flying into bright, shiny things. He's still stubborn and driven, but in season five his decisions feel shallow, like he's doing things out of boredom. At the start of the season he's coming back from hollywood, where he was happily living in kinney-like debauchery, and he's disappointed to be back to his old life. So (imo) he finds a new thing to obsess over: marriage. Then he gets to go to new york and weddings, kids and manors are suddenly a thing of the past. This is why to me, in season 5 he's just a big nothing of nothing, genetically modified to accompany the brian/michael assimilation plot line and then Brian's ending.]

3) Confession n 2 I don't hate Brandon and even though the competition is SO cringe, it's meant to be that way (i hope at least), to me the way it ends is what makes it clear. We get a glimpse of season one Brian, broken and lost, terrified, hanging onto the one thing that makes him feel wanted, safe and alive (sex). He wins, but the ending to the competition is not satisfying, Brian doesn't claim his prize (he doesn't want it). We get an unsettling, super close close up on Brian and Brandon instead, the lines are not good, but the visual storytelling carries that scene effortlessly. Past and present looking at each other, the future looming over them right out of frame where none of us can see it.

Aging is a main theme throughout the story and to me it feels very fitting to ham it up towards the ending. Justin spitefully telling him he looks good after sighing and moping around for entire episodes can't fix Brian's lifelong obsession with the loss of his youth. Brian is left to deal with it on his own when it's at its worst. He is old and lonely, Brandon and the competition is an escape, one last glimpse at what it's like to be the young, hot, reigning stud of Liberty Avenue, while being fully aware that his time is up.

In conclusion, Brian has not taken steps back imo, he is struggling to come to terms with the changes around him, while also feeling confident about his own convictions. Sometimes he is bitter and lonely and we get to see him say extreme things, but he's also more well adjusted than he was in season 1. He knows what he wants but he's still scared to admit it. Partly because (and the failure with the moving in thing could be a factor in this) he doesn't think he should ask for anything, partly because the people he loves are expecting him to change even more and against his will.

A the same time, he is able to question himself because he has grown and worked through some of the trauma that shaped him, also he has found a new kind of intense love with Justin, different from the codependency he has with Michael (and Lindsay) and the surface level friendship he has with everyone else, which is something that has made him realise so much about himself and what he wants and would like to be.

For the same reasons he is able to look at his empire crumbling and accept it, because during the show he found other reasons to fight and stay alive. When those same reasons are taken away from him, or he doesn't find the courage to go after them, he tries to comfort himself through sex, even if it's unsuccessful, but he's not closing into himself like he used to. He still thinks he'll get Michael back eventually and he's happy to let Justin go if it means he'll find what he is looking for, Brian doesn't want another relationship he doesn't care for it, the only reason Justin became his boyfriend is because he forced his way into his life and his heart ugh cringe lol. Obsessing over sex, age and fighting with his loved ones is not necessarily a sign of regression, just a momentary way to cope with the world pulling the rug from under his feet.

He went from attempting suicide to celebrating being cancer free. He wants the people who make him happy to be happy, even if it hurts him. He's not possessive and he's not particularly brave when it comes to relationships, but he's also growing constantly, willing and unwilling he changes and moves forward in his own way, sometime turning to look at the past but with no excuses, no apologies, no regr[GUNSHOT]

Then episode 10 comes and a lot more shit happens that i could write another 20 pages about but im done for now lmao ok bye

[fluffypotatey]

OK SO! the tommyinnit 101. technically this isn't really tied to an smp though.

so first we must start at the very beginning. the dream smp. in late 2020-early 2021, the dream smp was at the height of its popularity, and tommyinnit played one of its most prominent characters (tommy, henceforth referred to as c!tommy). now the thing about c!tommy is that both he and cc!tommy (idk if i've talked about the c! vs cc! divide before but that is its own 101) were under 18 at the time, and therefore if you shipped his character with anyone about 70% of the fandom would tear you apart.

honestly dsmp isn't too relevant here, though, except to introduce tommy and tubbo. you see, in a world of straight men using their little block guys to flirt with one another, tommy was Very vocal about loving women. being Straight was part of his Bit in the same way that being Annoying and playing the able sisters music from animal crossing was.

anyways in late 2022 he uploaded a vlog of him and tubbo getting married, tubbo mostly against his will. they pulled out all the stops- got an ordained minister (their friend scott, who you may recognize from the life series 101s) to do a little ceremony, had a lot of their friends acting as different members of the wedding party, even signed and filed real paperwork!

yep. that's right. they signed legal fucking paperwork. i've heard that tubbo didn't even know it was a marriage certificate, he thought it was a waiver for being in the video or smth. that's right, known straight man tommyinnit tricked his best friend into getting Real Life Legally Married to him, presumably just for shits and giggles.

This fact went unnoticed until mid-late 2023. tubbo was playing on the QSMP with some other people (i know FitMC, not sure who else), and was joking about going to Vegas and getting married to Fit. and then tubbo realized he was still married to tommy.

also, around that time, tommy wrote and published (to wattpad) a rpf crack fic called Tommy x Tubbo Love Triangle, where tommy leaves his Real Life Girlfriend molly for tubbo (molly dies directly afterwards because it was so romantic) and then he and tubbo kiss without tongue. tubbo was not consulted during the production of this fanfiction.

after learning about the marriage, tubbo started working to get a Real Life Divorce from his Real Life Friend Tom. tommy refused to sign the paperwork. if any of this ever goes to court tubbo fully intends to livestream the whole thing.

around 2 months ago, tommy did a parody of "I'm Just Ken" called "I'm Just Tom," in which he begs tubbo not to divorce him. it must be seen to be believed. idk if the link will work in an ask but i need you to see it https://youtu.be/laAPXcxjDlI?si=wPQM3ZJHBIv11Cfr

also if you're wondering how molly, tommy's Real Life Girlfriend, feels about all of this? she thinks it's hilarious. for the past month or two-ish (?), tommy's been doing a stand-up comedy tour in america (because they are all british), and at the same time tubbo's been doing a subathon (aka tubbathon bc it's tubbo) (a subathon is a twitch stream with a timer on it. the stream ends when the timer finishes out, and whenever someone subscribes to the streamer's channel more time is added) (the tubbathon is still going btw and isn't slowing down anytime soon). at one point molly came onto the tubbathon, and tubbo bought her a new phone bc hers was shit. (directly afterwards tommy posted a vlog about it, saying he felt like he was being cucked by his gay husband)

fans have dubbed these three the nightmare polycule, and it's not hard to see why.

and then, finally, this morning (last night in england time), tommy and tubbo were on a phone call. tubbo (gay) encouraged tommy to "say the f slur!" and tommy said, and i quote, "I'm bicurious, so I guess I could say like a fifth of it. [Tochat] Hear that, ya -ggots?"

i needed to tell you all of this so that you would understand the full insanity of all of this. there are some bits that don't really translate unless you were a dsmp fan in the 2020-2021 era, but i need you to see the ongoing insanity this man creates. he had been planning to use that joke for his live comedy show

ok uh

wow

i some pointers on his singing voice (a bit too belty there, that'll damage the throat later, some vowels need rounding)

hilarious that he rhymed Tom with arm

reading this was like a fever dream

molly is me tbh this is the most hilarious drama i have ever read

his comedic timing is beautiful

what the fuck

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Downfall (pt 2/2)

See? I didn’t lie, part 2 is here and it’s only...11:00PM Sunday night lol. Wow guys, this part got long (like 3.5k words long. Oops.) and *sappy*. But, you know what I love about snz fic? We always give the people what they want. You see a smoking gun in act 1 you best believe it’s going off in act 3. Lmao. Also, I’m sorry if there’s continuity/grammar/spelling errors, I’ll read it through again in the morning and fix them I just can’t do it tonight haha.

Anyway! Hope you guys like the second part.

cw: Male, colds, contagion, mess, there is a passing-out moment in here as well. Shit gets wild lol. This part is heavily inspired by 3 prompts in my inbox, so if you sent a prompt it’s probably featured here!

Downfall - Pt 2

When Elijah opened his eyes Friday morning, he nearly cried in relief; after three full days of feeling like death, he finally, finally felt like he was on the other side of this shit.

The past two days had been a nightmare. After Greyson had called him Tuesday night and told him that not one but two other managers had gone down, Elijah had to mentally prepare himself for a full week of work with one of the worst colds he’d ever endured. He’d walked into the kitchen Wednesday morning stuffed to the gills with dayquil, cough syrup, and ibuprofen; a combination he was sure was actively taking years off of his life. Greyson was already hard at work, despite the fact that Elijah knew he’d been at the restaurant until well after midnight the night before.

“He lives!” Greyson said, throwing his arms up as though Elijah had just scored the winning goal for their nonexistent soccer team. “You look god-awful, and I’m so glad you’re here!”

Elijah coughed out a laugh, and Greyson lead them both into the office. “So, here’s the deal,” Greyson said as they both sat. “I told both Matt and Mark to stay home til Saturday – just to make sure they don’t infect anyone else. I closed the books at 50 covers tonight and tomorrow – and I know, it’s barely enough to cover labor, but we’re in survival mode here, so don’t give me that look. I got in at six, most of my prep for the evening is done, so I figured when we open I can throw on a button down and help on the floor while you expo back here during the rush. Does that all work for you?”

The GM blinked, blindsided. He knew Greyson was good in a shit situation, but damn; the kid should’ve been a fighter pilot or an ER doctor. “Yeah,” Elijah said, “sounds great, Grey.”

So that’s what they’d done. Both Wednesday and Thursday. Elijah had holed up in the office until the servers needed him for preshift, and Greyson had prepared his cooks for two weird nights of Elijah expoing. Service had been moderately slow both evenings, which would’ve been great, if it hadn’t allowed Elijah to hyper-focus on his lingering symptoms and Greyson to flit and fret over him every time he stepped into the kitchen.

“Do you need anything, Lij? Water? Tea? Meds?” The constant stream of mother-henning had eventually worn on everyone, and even Greyson’s cooks had finally said, “Chef, he’s fine.”

But they had gotten through it. Elijah had sneezed and coughed and cursed his way through garnishing dishes, and Greyson had awkwardly talked to tables until finally the week was nearly over. And now it was Friday, one day til the big wedding, and Elijah was finally, finally feeling better.

Elijah walked in at 9AM to a thankfully-empty kitchen; he’d told Greyson the night before to sleep in, prepare himself for the weekend, take some Emergen-C and be absolutely sure he wasn’t going to succumb to the rot Elijah had brought in, but he was surprised that the chef had actually listened to him. The GM placed his things down in their empty office and took a breath; it was going to be okay. Mark and Matt would be back for the wedding, they would be relatively slow tonight, and Saturday would be perfect. Manifest it, Lij, he said to himself, sitting at the desk and turning the computer on. Manifest it.

After an hour or so of paperwork, Elijah heard the back doors open as Greyson let himself in. The GM pushed away from the computer and cracked his neck, anticipating the usual barrage of word vomit Greyson was wont to spew out the moment he walked into the restaurant. “Morning, Chef,” he called out before even seeing Greyson, marveling at how much clearer his voice was today. Fuck that fucking cold.

Greyson stepped into the office and silently saluted his boss, a Starbucks cup adorning each of his hands. “Hey, boss,” he said, placing one in front of Elijah and one next to his own computer. The chef didn’t sit down; instead, he took off his hoodie, grabbed a clean coat from the back of his chair, and buttoned it up before snagging his drink and heading into the kitchen. Elijah swung himself around in his chair, dumbstruck.

“That’s it?” he asked, watching Greyson unpack his knives a few feet away. “‘Hey, boss’? No big gameplan? No huddle to discuss the week’s insanity? No bombardment of questions regarding my health?” Greyson huffed out a laugh, but Elijah wasn’t having it. “You didn’t even tell me what you got me to drink,” he said, holding up the mystery cup.

Greyson raised an eyebrow at his boss and bit back a smile. “It’s a chai,” he said, bemused. Elijah threw his hands up, flustered.

“The amount that that doesn’t address 90% of my questions is truly amazing,” he said, taking a long sip of his drink, which – certainly wasn’t a chai. The hell was that?

“I don’t know what second-rate Starbucks you stopped at, Chef, but this is definitely not a chai,” Elijah said, pushing the cup towards the door. “What is that? It’s like...something lemon.”

Greyson colored a bit and picked up his own cup to look at the sticker. “Ah, fuck,” he mumbled, striding back into the office and switching their cups. “Sorry ’bout that. I switched the cups.”

“What is it?” Elijah asked, his face seemingly stuck in a mask of disgust. “So that I can remember to never order it.”

Greyson rolled his eyes. “Have you ever ordered something from Starbucks that wasn’t a chai?” he asked, sipping his drink. Elijah shrugged and turned towards that computer again.

“Fair enough,” he said, waking the screen by shaking the mouse. He turned to Greyson again when the floorplan popped up on his screen. “Can we take a quick look at tonight together? Since Matt and Mark are still out? Do you think we should cut the covers off now, or go to 75?” Elijah squinted, his face nearly touching the screen in concentration. After a few moments of silence, he peeled himself away from the monitor to glance at the chef, who was – the fuck was he doing?

“The fuck are you doing?” Elijah asked, snapping Greyson out of his trance. The chef had been turned almost all the way around, facing the kitchen. Clearly he hadn’t heard a word Elijah said.

“Huh? Shit, sorry boss. Lost in thought,” Greyson said, turning back toward the GM. “Uhh… 75. Yeah, that looks good,” he finished, lamely. Elijah raised his eyebrows.

“What’s your problem today?” he asked, though not with malice. Greyson chuckled.

“Just got a lot on my mind, boss,” he said. “Big weekend. Week’s been long. I need to get back to prep, if that’s okay.” Elijah gave Greyson another look, but nodded after a moment and shooed him out. Greyson smiled at his boss, held his cup out in a false ‘cheers’. “I’ll be prepping in the back kitchen if you need me,” he said, and disappeared past the line into the back.

It wasn’t Elijah’s fault, he reasoned with himself later, that he hadn’t seen through the ruse. He’d just barely gotten over a monster of a cold; he was himself busy and stressed; it was early and he hadn’t had enough caffeine. He couldn’t be expected to decode what was wrong with Greyson every time the kid acted weird. However, he couldn’t help but kick himself when he finally realized – thirty minutes before service – what the weird-tasting drink the chef had gotten himself was. Aptly named, of course, and something Elijah himself had only had once before, courtesy of Greyson himself.

A medicine ball. Greyson had gotten himself a medicine ball.

***

He wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to keep this up, but it certainly wasn’t going to be through tomorrow’s wedding.

Greyson sat down, fully clothed, on the toilet and put his head in his hands for the third time that day. The fact that Elijah hadn’t noticed at this point was a mix of pure dumb luck and more sudafed than a human person should ever in their life consume. He assumed the former would begin to run out soon, as the latter had hours ago.

“Huhh...HNGSTH! NTSH! ITZSH! Fuck – HNGTSZHUE! Goddamn it.”

Greyson pulled a length of toilet paper from the roll and blew his nose until it made him cough. He checked his watch as he threw the toilet paper into the trashcan next to him – 9:15PM. When he’d stepped into this bathroom, dodging Elijah as he locked the door, all but one of the tables had left. He’d go back to the line, he’d tell Leo, his grill cook who’d been there nearly as long as he had, to check that everyone had cleaned thoroughly, and he’d sneak out the back before Elijah could question him.

And then what? Greyson asked himself as he stood and washed his hands. You somehow make a miraculous recovery between now and tomorrow morning? Have you seen how this shit took down Elijah, Mark, and Matt?

Greyson ignored the voice in his head and dried his hands. He assumed Elijah hadn’t noticed because they were both wildly busy before service, and once service had started, they were both worn thin being the only managers in their departments for the third day in a row. Greyson had managed to keep the congestion out of his voice with the aforementioned sudafed, and he had taken his happy ass to the bathroom or out back to ‘smoke’ when he really needed to sneeze or cough all night. Elijah had definitely given him some looks through the evening, but nothing Greyson couldn’t brush off by pulling a ticket distractedly and not making eye contact.

Tomorrow, though? When Matt and Mark were both going to be back, and they were all going to be prepping their asses off for the wedding? He genuinely had no idea what he was going to do to keep them from noticing.

Greyson exited the bathroom, stealthily managing to avoid his boss as he slipped into the kitchen. He gathered his things, put Leo in charge, and was nearly out the door, nearly safe, when -

“Chef!” Elijah called behind him, making him freeze in his tracks just outside the back door. Fuck.

“Yeah, boss?” Greyson asked, turning to face Elijah and hoping he didn’t look like the garbage fire he felt. Elijah crossed his arms over his chest in the cold of the alleyway and motioned to Greyson’s entire being.

“You leaving?” he asked tapping his foot. Greyson managed a smile and lifted his backpack and knife bag a little for inspection.

“Is it obvious?” he asked, quietly clearing his throat to mask the gravel of his voice. Elijah didn’t say anything for a few moments.

“Leo shutting down the line?” he asked. Greyson nodded, swallowing around a throat on fire.

“Yeah,” he said. “Did you uh…ndeed something from mbe?” Fuck.

Elijah gave Greyson a pointed look. “Grey,” he said, voice low. “If you’re sick, you need to tell me. Now.”

Greyson felt his cheeks redden, but he immediately shook his head. “I’mb good,” he said, cursing once again the congestion that had sneaked into his voice. “Promise. I gotta go, I’mb gonna mbiss mby train.” Without missing a beat, the chef turned around and headed towards the street, hoping his boss couldn’t see him stifle nearly ten sneezes into his fist as he walked.

This was not going to end well.

***

It was worse than Elijah could have even imagined.

When Elijah walked into the restaurant that morning, the first thing he did was text Greyson.

9:01AM

Hey. I’m here, is there anything you want me to pull out/start on before you get in?

9:01AM

Also, how are you feeling?

Normally, he’d get a response in moments; when Greyson wasn’t at work, the man was glued to his phone, playing some stupid game or messaging one of his fifty Bumble suitors he kept on the line at all times. I get bored, he often said to Elijah. One starts annoying me, BOOM! Onto the next.

Today, though, nearly twenty minutes passed before Elijah’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out immediately and couldn’t help but wince at the text the chef sent.

9:18AM

great. no. ill be there in 20.

Anyone who texted with Greyson more than once in their life knew that if he wasn’t being his multi-exclamation-point, constant-joke-and-lol self over text, he was probably close to death. Elijah typed out an ‘ok’ to the chef, before making a thread with Matt and Mark.

9:31AM

Elijah

Hey, guys. Just making sure you’re both on your way in. Greyson’s gonna be down bad. Need all hands on deck asap.

9:32AM

Mark

???? is he ok??? down bad in what way?

9:33AM

Matt

ya, coming now. figured chef would’ve gone down by now. should I bring anything?

9:34AM

Elijah

Just your stamina. Gonna be a long day. Thx.

9:34AM

Mark

no one answered my ?

im so confused

oh

OH

shit, I knew I got greyson sick. fuuuuuuuuck. sorry, boss :(

9:35AM

Elijah

All good. Inevitable. Let’s just get this day done.

Elijah clicked his phone off and sighed. He could go for a whiskey, or even just a long, drawn out scream about now, but a cigarette and a prayer would have to do him. Twelve hours until the wedding was over.

***

How Greyson managed to make it to work was anyone’s guess, him included.

The chef pushed through the back doors and before he could even get past the prep kitchen he was doubled over, sneezing into the sleeve of his hoodie.

“HhhIGSTZH-ue! HuhESHHH-ue! HRRTSCHZUE! NGTSHZUE! Christ, fuck,” Greyson muttered, wiping his nose on his sleeve for what he could only wish he could say was the first time that morning. He cleared his throat, which was for naught since he could barely speak, and continued his trudge into the main kitchen.

When Greyson had made it home last night, he told himself he’d be able to continue to hide his burgeoning illness. He thought maybe more medicine, some Vick’s, and a good night’s sleep would give him the upper hand against it. He’d told himself he was stronger than his coworkers, that his immune system wouldn’t fail him on one of the most important days of his career.

Oh, how the mighty will fall.

“HhNGTSHHZUE! ITSZH-uhh! Fuuuuck,” Greyson moaned, stumbling into the thankfully-empty office and yanking a handful of tissues from the box on the desk. He wiped his nose, unwilling to unleash the volley of sneezes he knew would be behind a nose blow, and pressed his palms into his eyes to try and relieve some of the pressure. Who the fuck gets a cold this fucking bad, Elijah, he wondered silently.

As if conjured, Greyson felt his phone buzz with a text from his boss.

10:07AM

Bless. That sounds fucking awful.

Could a guy not get a moment’s peace in this fucking place?

10:08AM

i should call the cdc’s biohazard unit on u for unleashing this shit onto us.

An admission, but what else was he supposed to do? Elijah could hear him in the dining room. The game was over. Greyson put his head back into his hands until he heard his boss’s footsteps click into the kitchen.

“...chef?” Elijah asked, and Greyson wearily lifted his head.

“Mornding,” Greyson croaked, before turning to the side to cough, crackly and painful-sounding, into his sleeve. He felt something get placed on the desk next to him, and when he finally was able to compose himself he saw it was a Starbucks cup. Greyson smiled, weary.

“Chai?” he asked, picking up the cup. Elijah huffed out a laugh.

“Something like that,” he said, moving to sit next to Greyson. “Now, hear me out. I think I have a gameplan.”

***

At five o’clock, Elijah finally went to rouse the man of the hour with a knock on the office door.

“Chef,” he said, trying to wake Greyson as gently as possible. “Grey. We need you for plate-up.” Greyson nodded blearily and, with the help of both Matt and Elijah, managed to get to his feet.

It had been an interesting day for sure. Elijah’s plan had been for Greyson to try and help with some of the more intricate parts of prep in the morning, and then lay down from noon until it was go time, but that had proved nearly impossible.

Greyson had managed to prep for about three minutes at a time before dissolving into nasty coughing fits that lasted minutes at a time, or absolutely relentless bouts of -

“HTSHH-ue! HRSHH-ue! Hhuhh…NGTSHZUE! ITSZHUE! Huhh-ETSHZCH-oo!”

“Christ, boss,” Matt said, attempting a laugh after a particularly intense fit of sneezes, “When you go down you really go – oh, fuck.” In teasing his boss, Matt nearly missed Greyson’s eyes rolling back into his head and his knees buckling as he lost consciousness for a moment. “ELIJAH!” Matt called, catching his boss and lowering him to the ground as gracefully as possible.

Once they’d managed to get Greyson back to a standing position, Elijah had decided it was too risky to let him continue to be...vertical. Greyson had laid out for Matt exactly what he needed him to do to finish preparing the food, and retreated to the blanket fort they had all heavily utilized this week for a sleep that more closely resembled a coma than anything restorative.

Matt, Elijah, and even Mark had managed to finish the prep Greyson had worked so hard on that week by four PM. Once they felt ready, the three of them gathered in front of the office to stare at the racked-out chef.

“Should we… ask him if everything looks okay?” Mark had asked, ringing his hands. Matt and Elijah exchanged a look before Elijah shook his head.

“I think… I think he’ll be okay with just about anything at this point,” Elijah said. The other two nodded, unwilling to take this precious moment of sleep away from the chef.

When the guests were all seated and ready for first courses, it was, of course, Elijah’s job to wake the sleeping bear. Greyson, ever the trooper, took his place at the pass and regarded the three of them with all the pride he could muster.

“Thangk you guys. Really,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Ndow. Let’s get this shit over w – HGSTHH-ue! Snrf. Guhh,” Greyson held tight to the granite counter top and pulled himself back to his full height.

“Let’s get this done,” he said, pulling out his tweezers. “And whend it’s over, I’mb ndot answering mby phone for a fuckigg week.”

They all managed a laugh. They all assumed their positions for plating and running food. This certainly wasn’t the glamorous job it was portrayed in the movies, but they did have something all that media never seemed to truly capture; they had each other, and this place that all of them thought of as not a second, but a true home.

Greyson cleared his throat as the first of the servers came through the doors, bearing labeled sheets with seat numbers. “Order in!” he called, and they all put their heads down and began their work.