#i mentioned to someone i was talking to during my reassessment to start seeing a therapist again because i'm having issues again

[mikurulucky]

Random thing I thought of based on an episode of The New Adventures of Winnie the Pooh:

A lot of people headcanon Rabbit as having OCD because of his obsession with cleanliness and otherwise having things in order, and that does make a bit of sense and that's just ONE way it can manifest.

But, I have another idea.

I'm not throwing out that old bit of fanon because it can still fit. But I remember in the episode where he, Pooh, and Tigger were preparing for a party for small rabbits, Rabbit had a list of things to do that included very small things like brushing teeth and combing ears alongside sublists for Pooh and the rest with more specific things that need to be done to prepare for the party, since prepping for it was on the first list we see in the episode.

That got me thinking, does he have issues with organizing and starting tasks? Does he have issues with procrastination? Because that's something I can kinda relate to and I have thought about making similar lists of small tasks that I need to do because I've fallen out of various good habits I formed in childhood for the past few years. (Do I ever get around to making such lists tho? FUCK no!) Plus he's pretty much always on the move and may even think better while pacing or just moving about in general.

So, here's my thought. In addition to OCD, he's also ADHD, possibly the hyperactive variety. I'll have to look back at the series and the movies though so I can get a more detailed look at his habits and such though, but that's the basic headcanon I've been thinking about lately.

[this-daydream-is-dangerous-13]

I always thought that Glitch is about Harry. Here's my interpretation of the song:

We were supposed to be just friends (they did become friends after the broke up in 2013, but they couldn't stay just friends)

You don't live in my part of town, but maybe I'll see you out some weekend (they both lived in LA, Harry even bying a house near hers, but later on sold it while he still lived in LA. In cardigan she also says: Playing hide-and-seek and giving me your weekends)

Depending on what kind of mood and situation-ship I'm in (Harry's Satellite lyrics: I'm in an L.A. mood, I don't wanna talk to you. She said, "Give me a day or two")

And what's in my system

I think there's been a glitch, oh, yeah

Five seconds later, I'm fastening myself to you with a stitch, oh, yeah (Harry's song Woman: And promises are broken like a stich is. It's also probably a small nod to the stitches Harry got in the snowmobile accident)

And I'm not even sorry (There's an interview I believe, I can't find it, but it was when Taylor was promoting 1989 and I don't remember who said it but they said something along the lines of and you should've called the song Style "I'm not even sorry" at this point cause it was too obvious it was about Harry)

Nights are so starry, blood moonlit

It must be counterfeit

I think there's been a glitch, oh, yeah

I was supposed to sweat you out

In search of glorious happenings of happenstance on someone else's playground (She was supposed to forget Harry with getting with Joe, but obviously she couldn't cause she's still writing about him)

But it's been two thousand one hundred and 90 days of our love blackout (I always thought that the "and it's been 2190 days of our love blackout" as in that the said relationship had ended that long ago, hence the blackout.)

The system's breaking down (the system's breaking down)

I think there's been a glitch

Five seconds later, I'm fastening myself to you with a stitch

And I'm not even sorry

Nights are so starry, blood moonlit

It must be counterfeit

I think there's been a glitch

A brief interruption, a slight malfunction

I'd go back to wanting dudes who give nothing ("Go back to dudes who give nothing" as in "all you ever wanted from me was nothing" in Sweet Nothing which is about Joe??)

I thought we had no chance

And that's romance, let's dance

Glitch

Five seconds later, I'm fastening myself to you with a stitch

And I'm not even sorry

Nights are so starry, blood moonlit

It must be counterfeit

I think there's been a glitch

Cambridge dictionary definition of the word Glitch: a small problem or fault that prevents something from being successful or working as well as it should

They definitely weren't successful in the end

Thanks for sharing this analysis, Anon. I think it is more of a stretch to think this song is entirely about HS; I still think it is entirely or mostly about YB (or written to look that way). That said: if we get more info on future tracks, I will absolutely reassess.

A couple things I want to lift out:

The “town” references I usually thought to mean “the music industry” and YB was torn adjacent at best, hence not the same town.

I think Blondie and YB spent the summer as friends after the fabled hand touch (during the TH era) and then the Delicate hookup time, which surprised her. And they started seeing each other and that’s the time she’s writing about.

I do love that you mentioned the “I’m not even sorry” quote; it is one of my TS faves. Thanks for send the link in a subsequent ask.

It’s the closest she has ever, ever come to specifically saying that a song is about someone, lol.

“Then there’s the song that sets a new high-water mark for Swiftian faux secrecy – a sexy Miami Vice-sounding throwback about a guy with slicked-back hair and a white T-shirt and a girl in a tight little skirt that is called – no joke – “Style.” (She allows herself a satisfied grin. “We should have just called it ‘I’m Not Even Sorry.'”)”

Thanks for the ask!

[amethystroselily]

Reasons I think the “The Akashi siblings were friends with Mikey and Baji” thing WAS foreshadowed and is NOT the worst writing decision Wakui has ever made. (He’s made plenty of questionable writing decisions but this one really wasn’t that bad)

I think it started being foreshadowed around the Bonten arc. Sanzu, who we didn’t really know that much about at that point is revealed to be Mikey’s second in command. Takeomi is introduced as someone who seems close with Mikey but we’ve never seen him before. There’s definitely some intrigue there, implying that those two will be expanded upon later and definitely have an important connection to Mikey.

Sanzu appears to be devastated when Mikey commits suicide. It in my opinion looked like the shock and panic of witnessing a loved one die rather than someone you have a distant relationship with.

Then we get the flashback of Mucho and Sanzu meeting, where we are shown that Mikey and Sanzu clearly knew each other prior to that incident. They both talk to and about each other with a lot of familiarity. Sanzu doesn’t seem overly worshipful in this scene, as he tells Mikey to let him go.

This is also where we learn that Sanzu and Baji know each other. Baji who we know is pretty capable and good at fighting “can’t handle” Sanzu. This is just speculation, but if there was a conflict between those two in the past, this may be a nod towards that. Also Mikey and Baji are the ONLY ones Sanzu talks about in that chapter, which in hindsight was probably to highlight their specific importance. It probably wasn’t random that Baji was the one who they were talking about.

Sanzu and Mucho talk about Baji and Haruchiyo brings up that Mikey and Baji were childhood friends. Something that apparently was not common knowledge outside of a tight knit inner circle, as Mucho did not know this. Which implies Sanzu knows details about Mikey that he wouldn’t have unless they were close.

We learn that Sanzu got into a fight with another gang because they were insulting Toman (or something similar, that chapter has the worst translation ever and I can’t find the version of that chapter that’s decently translated outside of other people’s screenshots) which I think implies that he was already pretty loyal to Mikey at that point. In this conversation he and Mucho talk about the importance of the king in go, a running theme in that chapter and both Mucho and Sanzu’s characters in general to refer to Izana and Mikey.

Sanzu says he was an only child, and as Takeomi was introduced recently at that point that was definitely meant to be a lie. A lot of people say that them being siblings was made up on the spot but I definitely think Takeomi was created to be Sanzu’s brother. Otherwise it would have been a weird thing to bring up at that point in the story. Also it showcases that Sanzu was hiding a lot from Mucho.

Sanzu murders Mucho and professes his loyalty to Mikey. He has been loyal to Mikey and was planning his death the entire time he says. (I kind of feel like this was a Half-truth or a straight up lie, because there are plenty of timelines where he doesn’t murder him and he also willingly went with him to Tenjiku. Also there’s that scene where Sanzu seems to freeze when Takemichi mentioned how they were betraying Mikey when they kidnapped him. I think Sanzu might have actually gotten attached to Mucho and this comment made him reassess that newfound loyalty. I think that might be when he actually decided to kill Mucho. Maybe it rekindled his loyalty to Mikey. He did do absolutely nothing during the actual Tenjiku vs Toman fight. My other guess is that he decided to kill Mucho after he went to jail, either as a last ditch attempt to regain Mikey’s trust or because Mikey told him to. I don’t know tho)

Anyways there was definitely A LOT in that chapter that was probably foreshadowing of some sort, but I do not have the best reading comprehension or analysis skills so I didn’t really catch all of it.

When we see Takeomi again in the past one of the first things he says is about Shinichiro. And he sounds pretty fond so it was safe to assume that they were close at that point in the story.

When we meet Senju there are some parallels between her and Mikey that everyone seemed to pick up on at the time. We find out that she wants to fight Mikey which also ties their characters together. We then find out that Takeomi and Haruchiyo are her brothers, which ties those four together.

Takemichi himself mentions that Sanzu is going to be a key player in this arc. He also says something like “he’s been with him even in the future” which kind of feels like it’s hinting at them knowing each other for a long time. (I’m not explaining that well)

We learn that Takeomi and Shinichiro were close friends since childhood, and considering Shinichiro is ten years older than Mikey, they knew each other before either Mikey or Haruchiyo were born.

Anyways I lost my train of thought and I don’t quite remember what else I was going to say, so uhhh, rapid fire. Takeomi mentioned Mikey when he tells senju to be more mature. Mikey called Sanzu Haruchiyo and said that he can handle this situation, implying some level of trust. Takeomi was trying to reason with and scold Mikey after the three deities war like he knew him personally. Senju seemed very casual about Sanzu choosing Mikey over her like it made sense.

But like why wouldn’t Mikey’s second in command who happens to be his big brother’s best friend’s little brother be close with him. Of course they were childhood friends. I honestly think it would be more random if they weren’t. Like, they somehow never met and Mikey’s just letting some random ass dude be the only person he talks to at the moment??? I guess I wouldn’t quite put it past Mikey, but remember the Izana situation? Where Takemichi was like “Why would he trust Izana more than any of his friends?” and it turned out it was because Izana was his brother. Or, well, brother-adjacent depending on how you look at it. I think it’s a similar situation here.

The Akashi siblings were introduced to be relevant in Mikey’s story. I think that was meant to be a lot of what the final arc is about now that South is gone. Did you guys think he was going to introduce these random characters last minute, place great emphasis on them, and then just do absolutely nothing with them?

Is the foreshadowing flawless? No. But it’s definitely there.

Anyways, I don’t remember everything I was going to say, and I probably won’t remember until tomorrow, but there’s a lot.

(Also @god-faberena bc you were curious earlier)

[ginkgomoon]

Victor’s Mercury Retrograde Call- Analysis

Saw this particular call and was inspired to do an analysis into what Mercury retrograde is and especially on what Victor’s views on these types of concepts are. Mercury retrograde happens tomorrow on the 29th to June 22rd. So I’d thought it would be fitting to post this beforehand. (And maybe foreshadow upcoming content....) Please enjoy! ❤️

Mercury

Mercury is the communication planet. It also talks about short distance travelling, governing your thirst for knowledge, your wit, negotiating skills, logic and rationality. In the Solar System, it’s the smallest planet (rip Pluto, you're still a planet to me) as well as one of the hottest. The name came from the Roman god Mercurius- the god of commerce, mediator for mortals and messenger of the gods. 

Retrograde (Rx) 

By definition, “retrograde” means that a planet is moving backwards in the sky. Really, it’s just an optical illusion. It comes from the Latin word “retogradus” meaning “backward step”. As planets orbit the Sun faster than Earth, they sometimes overtake our planet. This is what causes the retrograde motion to occur, making it looks like the planet is moving backwards from our view on Earth. 

When planets are in retrograde in astrology, this means that we are stalling in the proceedings of the planet and the energies turn into itself, feeling the effects of one another deeply and more intensely. It can be shy, awkward, but can also progress great depth depending where the placement of it is in your chart. 

What is Mercury Retrograde?

Mercury is the most well-known planet that goes into retrograde, normally occurring three to four times a year. Since Mercury rules communication, technology and rationality, people are often fearful when it is in retrograde as it’s known (and blamed) for various disruptions and misunderstandings to occur. But it’s so much more than just that. 

When Mercury in retrograde occurs- just like the start of tomorrow, Mercury stops moving backwards on it’s cosmic path reminding us to do the same. This all relates back to the rule of as above, so below. This means whatever happens within our solar system will ultimately affect us here on Earth. (For example, the moon governs our emotions, and since our body is approximately 70% water, why wouldn’t the moon affect us too? But it’s not just us, it’s the moon’s gravitational pull on the oceans, in the same sense, it’s also the moodiness you may feel during full moons!)

Mercury in retrograde gets us to pause our own endeavours in its jurisdiction and review, reassess and clean up what no longer serves us. People from the past may show up, situations can repeat itself and things that have been lost may turn up again. Repressed issues, emotions or situations will come back and we’re forced to deal with them no matter what, requiring us to come up with new resolutions to old problems. 

Victor’s Call

Victor: What was that message you just cancelled? MC: Oh sorry about that, I just sent it to the wrong person. Victor: I saw my name. It was about me, wasn’t it? MC: What? No, you must be seeing things! Victor: Really? Was I seeing things too when I saw all the incorrect data and typos in your report? MC: Sorry, I’ll revise that and I’ll have it to you first thing in the morning. Victor: As inept as you are, you never made such basic mistakes such as sending the wrong email or messing up data. What’s wrong with you lately? MC: I don’t know... just have been feeling really off, like I can’t do anything right. Victor: What was that? MC: Oh sorry, I shouldn’t be saying this to you. Victor: Didn’t you complain before about me not being a good listener? I’m listening now. MC: That’s okay save you listening for someone else. Victor: You might as well see you to my face if it’s me you’re going to complain about. MC: No, not complaints, more like constructive criticism you don’t mind, do you? Victor: If I minded, you wouldn’t have this chance. MC: Well, I’ve been in a terrible mood lately and with all this pressure from you... Victor: Terrible mood? Why? MC: Probably because Mercury is in retrograde. Victor: Mercury in retrograde? What the heck is that. MC: That’s when the planet Mercury... never mind, you won’t understand anyway. Victor: Don’t try to cover up for your inability to explain things. MC: Simply put that things happen with Mercury is in retrograde, all right? Victor: So you’re saying... Cosmic events have thrown your mood and work quality out of whack? MC: It may sound unbelievable but it’s true. It affects many people. Recently, my bracelet came somehow undone, I dropped my phone in the sink and just now I was tripped. Let’s not mention work. I don’t even know how I made the errors you pointed out. Victor: Are you sure it’s not because... MC: No, not because I was stupid but because... how do I put it... supernatural forces. It’s like an unseen hand leading you down the road of calamity. Victor: That retrograde stuff it’s all in your head. If you’re feeling unlucky that’s exactly what happens. Just like if you don’t think you can do the job. Don’t be late around by negative thoughts. If you’re truly struggling, take some time off if you feel overwhelmed, cut back on your workload. Oh and please feel free to call me to offer criticisms during Mercury’s retrograde.

Analysis

I did birth chart readings for Kiro and Gavin previously so before anything, I did a little check in on Victor’s birth chart and… wow. I was expecting to see some strong Earth/Capricorn placements, but I didn’t expect to see so many. This man has 5 planets in Capricorn! This means the Victor is dominantly Capricorn ruled- in most of his inner (main) planets as well. 

This is relevant because this may influence how he views the concepts of astrology, which enforces the reasons why he doesn’t believe in it and relies on physical/ logic-based evidence, instead. This is compared to Gavin for example, who doesn’t have so many Earth dominant placements and he is all in about astrology and astronomy. But of course, this shouldn’t apply to everyone as other surrounding planets, placements and variables play a huge part in contributing to form their own opinions about these topics. 

However, with Victor's dominant Capricorn placements, this manifests his disinterest and dishonesty for Mercury retrograde (and these types of concepts in general), refusing to believe in an idea or thing existing where there’s no physical evidence supporting it. Because to Earth placements, it’s more so the hard work, dedication and effort you put into something that creates the end result, more over a something that you can’t see. 

In the call, MC is clearly not in the right mood to argue with Victor and knows that he wouldn’t believe her anyway.

Victor: Mercury in retrograde? What the heck is that. MC: That’s when the planet Mercury... never mind, you won’t understand anyway. Victor: Don’t try to cover up for your inability to explain things. MC: It may sound unbelievable but it’s true. It affects many people. Recently, my bracelet came somehow undone, I dropped my phone in the sink and just now I was tripped. Let’s not mention work. I don’t even know how I made the errors you pointed out. Victor: Are you sure it’s not because... MC: No, not because I was stupid but because... how do I put it... supernatural forces. It’s like an unseen hand leading you down the road of calamity. Victor: That retrograde stuff it’s all in your head.

Victor, MC is just understating the effects of Mercury retrograde. In fact, what MC experienced is probably one of the most mundane things that someone could think of when writing about what happens during retrograde- due to of its true complexity, it's rather hard to write about, perhaps. Though, I’m still incredibly appreciative that they included it in the game. Even more than once!

During Mercury retrograde, some good ideas are to double check your emails before sending them, to wait a bit more rather than sign a major contract, and have backups of whatever you need. (I’m literally backing up my drafts as we speak.) Don’t be afraid of Mercury retrograde because it’s here to help our growth, not to delay it. Ironic, but true!

This year, I was contemplating whether I would starting on posting Tumblr and finally started the day the first Mercury retrograde ended. So, always not a bad thing from the results of retrograde!

[siren-queen-imagines]

Never Ending (Part 2)

I’ve had this in my drafts for a while now...I’m happy with it but at the same time, I’m not? I’m just too critical of myself sometimes and this is one of those times because I want this to be a great sequel and possible series taking place in season 2 of The Punisher. I’ve polished it up and just decided to finally post it and get through it. So I hope you guys enjoy!

This is slowly starting to become Frank Castle x Reader and I don’t know how that got away from me since this started as a Billy/Reader one shot. But I am here for it and enjoying what I have planned.

Part 1

Masterlist

(gif not mine)

================================= 

Holy shit...holy shit…

This was happening. Billy Russo, your ex and rightfully so, was standing in your living room. You had literally just heard not even a full hour ago that he had escaped and he was already here. Madani hadn’t gotten your protection fast enough...hell would that have even helped?

“You look good, Y/N.” Billy told you, a small and genuine smile on his face.

You chose to remain silent as you clutched the phone in your hand tightly, your thumb still hovering over the green button on Frank’s contact number.

“Come on. Sit down.” Billy motioned to your couch, a smile still intact on his face.

You glanced between Billy and the couch, your thumb pressing the green button on your phone. You tucked it in your back pocket, bottom side up so that the mic could pick up your conversation and Frank could hear...please let him pick up and not have this saved on his voicemail. You tried to keep from shaking, the anxiety in you skyrocketing so much that you swore your heart was about to burst from your chest. The moment you got to your couch, Billy held out his hand, his fingers motioning for you to give him something.

“I saw that, Y/N. Hang it up and pass me your phone.” He continued.

You sighed quietly to yourself. Goddammit. Nothing could get past him still. You slowly and reluctantly pulled your phone from your back pocket. Clenching your jaw, you pressed the big red button, ending the call. You stared at the screen for a moment...unwilling to part with the only thing that could connect you to the man who could help you.

“Come on.” He practically sang, a mischievous smile on his face.

You took a deep breath as the screen went dark. You passed your phone to Billy, resisting the urge to cry. You did not know what to expect from Billy...but you knew it most likely wouldn’t end well for you.

“Good girl. Have a seat.” 

At this point, you knew that you had to do what he said...just long enough to buy some time to find a way out of this. You sat down, your body tense as you watched Billy drag one of the chairs nearby to sit in front of you.

“I’ve been wondering, since I woke up, why I haven’t seen you...it’s been confusing to me. So answer me this. Why haven’t you come to visit me, Y/N?” Billy asked, his head slightly tilted with a genuine look of curiosity on his face.

Your glance lowered from Billy’s face and down to the floor space between the two of you. You decided to remain silent to prevent you from saying something out of either a place of anger or fear...you didn’t want him to know you were scared. You needed to think about the words that were gonna come out of your mouth.

“I’ve been told it’s been about 7 months, Y/N.” Billy’s voice slightly raised. “That’s a long time to be apart from your fiance.”

“I’m not your fiance.” You countered almost immediately.

“There she is.” His smile came back. “Was starting to wonder if you were ever gonna speak to me again.”

“What do you want from me, Billy?”

“Just some answers.”

“To what?”

“We can start with the basics. Where have you been?”

“You’re kidding me, right? Did you really think I was gonna come back to you after the shit you pulled?”

“What shit?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

Billy clenched his jaw, staring at you for a moment before standing in frustration. You slightly flinched at the quickness of his movement. A breath you didn’t realize you were holding came out as Billy paced the room for a moment. He walked over to the window and stared out as the evening was slowly turning to night.

“I-I don’t...I don’t remember.” He told you with confusion laced in his tone.

Surprise filled your entire being at the tone of his voice. He has never sounded like that in the time you were with him. And were...were those tears brimming his eyes? Was he serious? Did he not really remember? 

“You don’t remember?” You stated flatly, trying to remain skeptical so that he didn’t pick up on your surprise.

“No...last thing I remember was being with my old unit in Afghanistan and talking to you the night before. Imagine my surprise when my therapist told me that we weren’t together anymore.” He finished his sentence, his gaze finding you once more.

Wait...was Dr. Dumont even allowed to mention that? Like, doctor/patient privilege? You had spoken to her previously because she had offered her services to you once. You had heard Billy was awake. You were standing outside his room, deciding if you wanted to confront him and tell him off because there were plenty you left unsaid after he dropped you off at that hotel. That’s when you met Dr. Krista Dumont. She was on her way in for Billy’s therapy when she talked to you for a little bit and gave you her card. You ended up speaking to her a few times before you had become a patient of hers. 

“She’s right, we’re not. So you should go.” 

Billy sat back down in the chair, reaching out for your hand. You fought your instincts to pull away because you didn’t know if it would make him mad. Mad would not fair well for you as you still waited for a chance to escape.

“Why aren’t we together anymore, Y/N? What happened to us?” Billy’s voice was calm, gentle...the last time you heard him like that...doesn’t matter. Not anymore.

“Dumont didn’t tell you what you did? She didn’t tell you why there were guards posted at your room at all times of the day?”

“I-I know the charges but not the details.”

“Maybe it’s best that way, Billy.”

Billy dropped your hand as you watched his eyes move from side to side. He was desperately trying to remember. He was distracted enough for you to make a move. You darted up and made a run for your bedroom. Because of him, you still held onto that shotgun in your closet. You made halfway down the hallway before you felt Billy’s arms wrap around you. A scream left you as you fought to get out of his hold but to no avail. He had already picked you up and despite you grabbing onto anything you could, he carried you back to the living room. Billy set you back on your feet, pulling on your arm as you tried to go again; your fight or flight switch still on in your mind. 

You fought against his grip as his free hand grabbed your other wrist when you went to push him away. Billy towered over you, almost menacingly.

“Don’t do that again.” Billy warned you, holding you in place. “You won’t like what happens next.”

Your heart was racing what felt like a million miles a minute. Part of you wanted to believe that Billy would never hurt you but the more rational part of you knew exactly what he was capable of. Hell, Billy even taught you how to defend yourself in situations like this but did you really want to test it? Did you really wanna test him?

“Let me go.” You whispered, wincing at the grip on your wrists. “P-please.”

Billy clenched his jaw and let you go. 

“Sit.”

You sat back down, your left hand rubbing your right wrist. You needed to reassess your situation. All you had to do was keep it from escalating. You didn’t keep your cool and look what happened.

“Tell me what I did.” He commanded, leaning forward as he sat back down across from you.

“Bill--”

“Tell me, Y/N.

“You got involved in some shady crap. Right out of your last tour. Something called Operation Cerberus.”

Billy perked up at that. What was Operation Cerberus? And how did you know about it? 

“W-what was Operation Cerberus?” Billy asked.

“I don’t know the full details because it was classified. But it was what got you in trouble. You see there was testimony given to Homeland Security that incriminated you in dealings that stemmed from that tour. Drugs, gun running...murder. Some evidence was found when they searched our apartment. I gotta give it to you, I lived with you and I had no idea about what you did until they tore apart our home.”

Billy took a moment to soak in what you told him...he---he hid this from you? Why would he even do something like that in the first place? What happened during Operation Cerberus? What changed to make him get involved with something like that?

The sound of your ringtone broke the silence of the room, startling the both of you. Billy pulled your phone out of his pocket and checked the caller ID. A small, quiet chuckle escaped him before he showed you the phone. It was Frank.

“What’s Frankie calling you for?” 

“Probably just checking up on me. He’s been doing that since you were arrested.” You told a half truth. Frank had been checking in with you since that night that Billy ended up in the hospital.

“Answer it. Put his mind at ease.”

You glanced down at the phone he held out to you. There was a moment you contemplated on letting it ring, hoping that Frank would see it as something was wrong. But again, would it be a good idea to make Billy mad again? Crap. You sighed and took the phone from Billy, sliding your finger to answer the call.

“Hey, Frank.” You greeted, trying to sound normal. 

There was a pause for a moment...maybe you didn’t sound normal enough. If Frank picked up on that, bless him for it. 

“Someone there with you?” Frank asked, the volume of his voice lower than normal.

“Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine.” You said, trying not to raise Billy’s suspicion.

“You in trouble?”

“Mm hmm. I’m just tired.”

Your glance fell on Billy, who watched you carefully...honestly, you couldn’t tell if he was buying this one way conversation.

“You at home?”

“Yeah. I think I’m just gonna stay in. I’m sorry, I tried calling earlier to tell you but my phone cut out.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’m back in town. Hang in there as long as you can, you hear me?”

“Yeah. I will. Be careful out there. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

You hung up your side of the line and gave the phone back to Billy. His eyes remained on you as he pocketed your phone.

“You found a way to warn him, didn’t you?” Billy gave a humorless chuckle.

“I-I didn’t, Bill.” You protested.

“Come on, Y/N. I may be a lot of things but I’m not stupid so don’t treat me like I am.”

“He’s not in New York. Even if I did find a way to warn him, he’d never get here in time.”

“Frankie always had a soft spot for you...but he’d never turn me in. He’s my brother.”

Oh….OH. Billy, you don’t remember.

“But I don’t want to put him in any position to get in trouble. Not when he has his family.”

OH BILLY…You decided against telling him because you didn’t know what it would do to him to know about his betrayal to the Castle family. More or so how angry he might become if he truly didn’t remember.

“Is there anything else? Because I gave you answers and that’s what you said you wanted.” You changed the subject. 

“Do you know who did this to me?” He motioned to the scars on his face.

You took a moment to look at each one...really look at them.  You knew how much having these affected Billy before and most likely now. You knew how much pride he took in how he looked...and in your opinion, he still looked like the same ol’ Billy Russo.

“No.” You told him.

You slightly shocked yourself at the conviction in your voice. This had to be convincing enough for him to let it go.

“I’m sorry, I don’t.” You added for good measure.

You managed to keep your eyes on him as he measured your response. He was searching them for any trace of deception. Moments that felt like hours passed before he leaned back into the chair with a sigh, running a hand over his face.

“I need to know who did this to me, Y/N.” Billy said, in a very familiar tone.

Billy would use this tired, slightly irritated tone mixed with a sigh when he felt like he was getting nowhere. When he feels like he’s missing something. You would hear it a lot more after he started Anvil. And this tone meant you managed to not get caught in your lie.

“I know you do.” Your voice softened.

Billy looked up at you, surprised to hear your voice change like that after speaking to him with mostly venom. To be honest, you still weren’t sure if you should tell him. This was quite the situation you were stuck in.

There was a banging on your front door startling you both. Billy’s eyes flickered between the door and you.

“I thought you said Frank wasn’t in New York.” Billy grumbled at you, standing up.

“He’s not.” You told him, standing up as well.

“Y/N? Y/N, it’s Madani, open up.” Madani’s voice called from the other side.

“I have to answer it.” 

Billy motioned for you to do so, making himself scarce. 

“Y/N!” Madani called once more as she banged on your door, the door knob rattling.

You went over to the door and unlocked it, opening it to see Madani and Frank on the other side of the door. 

“Madani.” You greeted before you put your finger to your lips, motioning for Frank, at least, to be quiet. Your eyes glanced to your left, letting them know he was still here. “What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to check in. See if you’ve heard from or seen Russo.” Madani asked, her vision on the left side of your door.

“Nope. Not a word. Yet, anyway.” You played it off as you stood aside.

Frank walked past you, his gun raised and trained ahead of him. Madani walked in after, staying closer to you but ready in case she hears anything to indicate someone else.

“He’s gone.” Frank said when he walked back into the room. “Fire escape.”

You let out the breath you held the moment you opened the door. Thank god...the entire time he was here it was like you were walking on thin ice. 

“You okay?” Frank asked you lowly as Madani looked around your apartment.

“Yeah. A little shook up, but I’m good.”

“It’s not safe here anymore. Pack a bag.”

“Way ahead of you.”

[overdrivels]

TWtaH Notes

I’m finally free. It took three years and nearly 150k words, but I’m finally done. I can’t believe it. 

It started off as a simple idea and a simple premise: a chef!reader who, while knife sharpening, catches Hanzo’s attention. It then evolved into a full-fledged fic with a plot and plot twists. Originally, it was supposed to be around 10 chapters long, but then it grew out of control over the years as I tried to figure out how to end what I started. 

In addition to being a redemption fic, this was also an information dump fic. Since this is the very first slowburn I have ever finished and I have the feeling I won’t have much opportunity to do the same ever again--I don’t think any other fandom would give me the ability to showcase all these tidbits like Overwatch does--I literally threw as much knowledge as I could reasonably incorporate as possible.

About plot changes:

Most of the original plot points survived the writing process, some minor ones didn’t for plot related reasons, so this surprisingly went better than I thought it would. 

There was supposed to be another scene where Chef faced off against Reaper in chapter 20 or so, but upon reassessing Reaper’s character, I decided he wouldn’t do that, especially not against civilians or put himself in harm’s way just to say something to Chef. He wouldn’t even say anything to his family in the comics, what makes anyone think he’d do anything to someone he had even less of a personal relationship with?

There were supposed to be more scenes about Chef’s fencing, but I couldn’t fit it in and it ended up being a one-trick pony plot device. It wasn’t supposed to be that way, but that’s how it turned out. There was supposed to be a scene where Chef fights back against Talon during their infiltration of the Watchpoint.

There were points where Hanzo himself talked his way out of situations and forced me to change the plot. In the kitchen when he first meets Chef face-to-face, he wasn’t supposed to get the chef to forgive him which is the biggest plot deviation I’ve had and it forced me to reconsider large sections of the story. Honestly, I think it’s for the better though because I was really at a loss as to how to progress the original plot under those conditions.

I also wanted to emphasize that when Chef left, there was increased tension between the members. There was little commonality joining them all together except for the fact they all needed to eat. In order for some parties to work, you have to have your support characters, and in that case, it’d be Chef. But I seem to have bumbled through that bit and made it less impactful so if I ever got a chance to rewrite this, I’d probably stress this bit more.

Symmetra was supposed to have a much bigger role in this, somehow she fell to the wayside with that one plot change in the kitchen I mentioned before. On the flipside, Ana and McCree got a way bigger role than expected. 

One of the biggest plot changes was Hanzo hating peppers. Originally he was supposed to hate onions but I thought there was way too much onion in Japanese cuisine to omit them, so I thought of something that would seem more ‘childish’.

To be fair, I also don’t really like peppers all that much either. But I sure as hell love onions.

The proposal with the miso soup at the end, the plot twist where the chefs are the real treasure, and some other minor details have been there since the beginning of the idea’s conception. Things like Reaper trading Overwatch’s life for the tamale, the name of the restaurant, and Hanzo’s fight with Genji only came after the fic was being written. 

Real life:

Covid really took its toll on me since a lot of this fic revolved around food, tasting it, experiencing it, making it, etc. I lost a good portion of my taste and smell, and it’s not back 100% even months later, so a lot of what I begin to describe after a certain point is just based on memory. If a pre-pandemic world, I would have been running around the city, sampling foods and writing down my impressions, but with things as they were, it didn’t pan out that way.

I tried to stuff as many of my favorite foods (and not so favorite foods) here as much as possible. There were a lot of foods I omitted because there’s only so much I could fit in here. A companion compilation fic of the Overwatch characters eating their favorite foods or just eating food in general made by Chef sounds really appealing right now.

May, June, and July made me really want to expand the story and include things in the fic that would turn it ‘problematic’ or at least morally ambiguous. If I did that, this fic would never be finished. 

Characterization and development:

Junkrat and Roadhog are much more docile in this story than I would have headcanoned them simply because food security is life-changing. I really liked the idea of Roadhog using his farming skills and being less homicidal with the right environment. They both know food is sacred. 

Argus 20 is in reference to Argus Panoptes, the all-seeing many eyed giant from greek mythology. The 20 comes from “hindsight is 20-20” (but now 2020 has a very different connotation and I’m thinking it’s pretty fitting). The reason for this is because she oversaw a lot of what was happening especially in the front of house. It’s not mentioned in the story, but she oversaw things like purchasing the restaurant, setting up the dummy accounts, organizing and obfuscating the donations, etc.

In case there was any confusion, ‘Tanuja Deshmukh Singh’ is Asim’s deadname. When he left Overwatch and became Asim Singh, his family disowned him. He was then free to live as himself, but he never discarded his last name because he still wanted to be connected to his family in some vague way no matter how much they disliked or denied his existence.

Head Chef Richard has been in jail. His backstory is basically after firing his staff to protect them from the fall out, he basically told the press he fired them for insubordination and took the fall for the kitchens and got quietly arrested. He was sent to the same prison that Chef would end up at. He’s not a very honest man, I don’t think, but he’s a character who was molded by the story and its needs rather than being a pre-established OC. 

I kind of wanted to write the fic in a way where Argus and Asim weren’t bad guys but people who were forced to make difficult decisions because of the position they were put in by Chef and by Talon. Cause, you know, sometimes you do things to hurt people without realizing it.

I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to push another ship in the background. If you see hints of different pairings here and there, you may be seeing it right because I kept flip-flopping between chapters as to whether I wanted to or not, and if I decided I did, I kept changing the pairings.

Hanzo. Where do I even start with this guy? I had a really tough time trying to stick to one interpretation of his character. I kept reading other fics and going, “Yeah. Yeah! I want that!” But then it just became a huge mish-mash of characterizations until I wasn’t sure who he was anymore. But I clung onto the thought of “he’s the first son of an Asian household dealing with his spoiled brother” to help get me through it. It reminds me of that tweet that goes, “You think you can hurt me? I’m the eldest daughter in an asian family.” It was so relatable. Channeling eldest sibling in asian family vibes. 

Chef. It was so hard. It was so damn hard writing a faceless character for so many words. I can usually do it in a one-shot because I can get away with not mentioning stuff, but in a slowburn?? It’s so difficult. Multiple times I had to stop myself or revise things because there were characters talking about Chef and I didn’t want to make the dialogue unnatural by saying ‘chef’ ‘chef’ over and over again. There were other moments like Soldier carrying Chef out of the Cellar and I was like: “What if the reader is taller than Soldier?!” It was a struggle. The other struggle was characterization. There were so many in-story stressful moments that I wanted Chef to start crying at but the timing of it was so frequent that I had to nix most of them or risk making Chef unrelatable. 

lol i’ve made several pseudo-cameos in the story because I’m shameless. 

Miscellaneous:

Man, my style changed so many times throughout the story. At some point I ended up writing outlines made solely of dialogue and wrote the story around it. It was oddly distressing when I realized my words wouldn’t come out like they used to.  

This fic has seen me through a ridiculous amount of crap. I kind of wished I kept a journal or something because these past three years have been nuts. 

After this, I’ll probably retire from writing Overwatch and then go into my usual writing hibernation that spans about 4 years before I reemerge with an unquenchable thirst for something stupid. 

In my nearly 20 years of writing fanfic, this is the first slowburn I’ve ever completed. To be fair, the last time I even tried was like...over 10 years ago when mediaminer was still a thing and didn’t ban CYOAs.

This was also the longest single fic I’ve ever written. I have wirtten 200k in a year before but never for any single thing.

God, this was hard. I partially did it to prove that you don’t need to use placeholders like ‘Y/N’ and stuff like that and it was possible to write a slowburn with gender neutral stuff, but I had to cheat a bit. But it’s done. 

I’ve worked in the restaurant business for a few years but not as a chef. It wasn’t even high-end either. I wanted to talk about the work conditions because it’s pretty tough in the kitchens and the amount of drugs and vices people turn to and the conditions in which people come to work is nuts. 

I wanted to cover a lot of controversial topics to see if I could but it just didn’t fit in the story. I wanted to tap into things like social justice, racism, prejudices, political landscapes, and so on. Even within Overwatch, I’d imagine there’s a lot of tensions stemming from just basic ideologies. I wanted to see if I could write about both (or more) sides of challenging arguments and still remove the author’s opinions from the story, but I’d imagine that’ll bring its own complications. Last thing I wanted was to start a fight in the comments or something.

I almost made the crew travel to Asia with implications of a changed geo-political sphere from today. Like...the status of Taiwan would’ve been interesting to touch upon, but I didn’t feel like I had the knowledge to expand on it enough.

Almost every waking of my life, I have thought or worked on this fic. During meetings, during conferences, during client calls, while I’m on public transportation, in different countries. I don’t know what to do with myself now.

Anyway, if you have any questions or anything or just want to shout at me, inbox is open.. For now I’m just going to lament over the fact that Genshin Impact gives me motion sickness and I can’t play despite working so hard to roll Mona.

[halfgclden]

Like Beef? | Gene&Wyatt

summary: dinner is served! dessert too (〃＞＿＜;〃)

date: February 16th, 2021

It was a decision that took Gene too long to make, in his opinion, but changing from his twin swords; a weapon built for dexterity and balance, to a single trident; a weapon that favored brute strength, turned out to be a good one. He took to his new weapon much more easily than he did the blades, and he didn’t have to worry about his left side the whole time. Despite this apparent natural inclination, Gene felt the need to catch up on practice, since he could have been using it the whole time. Once in the main part of the arena, he transformed his weapon from a piece of cutlery to a full-sized trident, and stood to the side, where people gathered when they needed a partner to spar with.

Wyatt had always favored the sword. Although his preference for the style of blade had changed over the years, he was the most proficient with the broadsword. Being at home back in the arena as of lately, today was no different. He had warmed up already and was also slightly itching for a fight. Upon seeing Gene, he surveyed his options and wondered if anyone else was going to take the other on. When he realized he wanted to be the one, Wyatt headed over. "Hey Gene," He called out. "You tryna put that trident to good use?" He asked and casually hung his hands on his sword in its hilt and his opposite hip.

Gene saw as Wyatt approached, though he tried adamantly to ignore the fact that he was in the same vicinity as him. He twisted his trident in his hand, the shaft pressed against the ground of the arena as he turned finally, locking eyes with his opponent. The last time that Wyatt and Gene had spoken, Gene had made it clear that Wyatt should not speak to him unless he was looking for a fight, and he supposed that this counted. His jaw set, he raised his chin at Wyatt, trying to seem like he was looking down at him despite the fact that the other man was taller. “Sure. You tryna get your ass kicked?”

Wyatt scoffed, shook his head and let out a little chuckle. "Yeah, I want you to try your hardest," He claimed while putting his hand on the hilt of his broadsword and unsheathing it in all its glory. "Y'know, really show me what you got, bud," He gestured his head at Gene and his trident to non-verbally usher him out more into a more appropriate place to spar in the arena. "And I won’t go easy on you either." He clarified.

Gene gripped his trident tightly as Wyatt laughed. He bit back a rush of anger, managing to convince himself not to lunge at Wyatt right there. “Don’t try this mentoring shit, I’m not into it.” He scowled and made his way to a clear space for them to spar. “And you better. I don’t want you saying I beat you because you went easy on me.” He turned and planted his feet, trying to relax his jaw. “Ready?”

Wyatt shook his head, scoffed at the mentoring remark but remained with a smirk. Once in a clear space, he relaxed his arm but kept his grip tight on the sword. With the assumption that Gene was most likely going strike first, he was ready to fend off an attack and serve up a counter-attack when needed. His mind already began shooting off in the different directions this spar could take. "Always ready," He claimed. "Come and get it." He taunted.

Gene grit his teeth as he watched Wyatt. There was something about the other man's confidence that he used to enjoy, but now just bothered him as he watched him move. Before Wyatt could finish his taunt, Gene was already lashing out at him, lunging forward with his trident, straight for Wyatt's side. It was an obvious move, but Gene felt like if he was fast enough, he could land a hit.

With his sword at the ready, Wyatt's body reacted like the fine-tuned machine he'd like to think he had trained it into over the years. It might've not been the exact case because, ever since he had taken time away from camp, he felt like he lost his some of his edge. Gene's move was obvious but it landed and Wyatt gritted his teeth at the sharp pain. He quickly used his sword to push Gene's trident away. "Aye, someone's been practicing hard, huh?" He wore a more serious expression but he barely finished before he swung low as his next move.

“Shut up,” Gene muttered through grit teeth. Distracted, Wyatt’s sword hit his leg easily, and he cursed as he took a step back. He reassessed before faking left and then striking right, going for Wyatt’s left side, where his defenses would be lowered. “Practice ain’t all it,” he said in a low voice despite protesting to Wyatt speaking before. “I got the tenacity.”

Wyatt began walking to the right, trying to throw him off and keep moving at the same time. It was a questionable move that, if he moved a second later, he would have been hit harder. But it only cost him a quick sharp pain from Gene's well thought out attack to his defenseless side. He barely reacted and began to feel annoyed that the other had managed to land his blows this quick. "But I got the experience," Wyatt retorted before assessing his options and choosing one in almost a split second. "And I got all day." He launched another slice through the air aimed at Gene's right side.

Gene grunted as Wyatt connected again, hitting his armor, but the blow was going to leave him bruised, he was sure. “Whatever,” he muttered, the time for talking over as the two launched into their attacks. It was clear that Wyatt had the upper hand– it only made sense. Gene had been training for months and Wyatt for years, not to mention the fact that the older man was a son of the god of war. Gene could feel that he was being bested, but still, he tried to keep up, sweating as he launched attack after attack at Wyatt, rolling with everything thrown at him. Gene had slowed down, wiping sweat from his brow as he waited for the next attack, on the defense now. He found it too humiliating to tap out after talking big to his opponent, and he took pause to watch his movements.

Wyatt had to admit that Gene was talented. So much so that Wyatt had also broken a sweat during their spar. The back and forth of a well-matched spar was familiar to him but Gene's moves were fresh. He liked how they both came at it in a different way. Feeling like he had the upper hand, he was eager to see this through. He let the pause settle but not for long because he faked right only to swing hard at Gene's left side.

The hit sent Gene down. Not enough to send him flat on his back, but enough to stumble and drop down. Though tap out or pass out was a more growing practice, it was clear that if this was life or death, Wyatt had already won. His eyes burning— from sweat, he swore, Gene stared up at Wyatt defiantly. He grit his teeth and spun his trident around to try and sweep at his ankles with the non-sharp end. Though he lacked the momentum to fully sweep him over, he figured a swollen ankle might at least make him feel better.

Wyatt was proud that he'd gotten Gene to drop down. He admired the tenacity in the younger opponent and was somewhat proud of Gene too. The fight was good and made his blood pump. He should've seen the other's next move coming but, he didn't. Wyatt's ankle had been struck by Gene's trident and it made him stagger and curse to himself. He bit back the pain and, with his good ankle, he lead with that leg and went to push Gene's trident away. He then put the point of his sword to align in the center of Gene's chest. "Do you tap out yet?" He asked but sounded serious.

Gene’s face was hot with shame and anger, and pride made him lean up so the sword was against him. However, he didn’t have a death wish, and though he was rash and prideful, he had some sense about him. “You gonna kill me if I don’t or what?”

Gene's response made Wyatt laugh for some reason. "Nah, bud." He shook his head and then pulled the sword away. He held it down by his side because he figured the other was going to give in. "You've got skills, I won't lie." Wyatt confessed with a little shrug.

The reply only made Gene angrier. His face hot with rage and shame at the laughter, he pushed himself up and brushed himself off, already starting to strip off the pieces of leather armor. "Fuck, whatever." He clenched a fist around the shaft of his trident, knuckles white. "Stop acting like we're friends. We're not. I don't give a fuck if you think I have skills. You've got..." If he said that Wyatt had no skills, that was just insulting himself, and he fumed as he tried to think of something. "Fuck, whatever," he repeated, turning away from Wyatt.

After watching Gene remove his armor, Wyatt put it together that the fight had indeed come to an end. He blinked as he remained standing and took Gene's words in stride. He nodded, silently, and then slid his sword back into the sheath at his side. "You make me feel like I gotta apologise for somethin' here, man." Wyatt observed with a little scoff. He could see the similarities between the two of them. "...What did you expect?" He posed as a question, but kept talking without much of a pause. "You probably could've taken me if you didn't let yourself get so pressed. Trust me, it's not worth it." He stated with another scoff and a shake of his head.

Gene scowled. "God, you're fuckin' annoying." He huffed, tapping his trident against the ground so it shrank, which made him feel much less like jutting the staff end of it into Wyatt's leg. "What I expect is for you to stop actin' like you're my personal trainer or some shit. You wanna give someone a pep talk so badly, go give it to one of your teenage girls."

"—Are you fucking kidding me, man?" Wyatt rubbed his hands together and then  rubbed one against his jaw. Maybe he wanted to control his anger, but it was becoming obvious that Gene had actually managed to get under Wyatt's skin. He started moving, pacing of some sorts. He still felt amped up from their spar. "I get that you feel some type of brotherly duty, but you gotta get over it." He stated. "I'm trying to be a good guy here. There's no reason why we shouldn't be on good terms, bro."

"Oh, that got you, huh?" Gene grinned at Wyatt, though it was malice rather than mirth in his eyes. Wyatt had a good few inches on him, but that didn't stop him from straightening up taller and raising his chin as he moved into his space once more. "Ey, don't call me bro. You know who does that? My friends, and my fuckin' sister." He resisted the urge to shove Wyatt's chest, but didn't move away as he ran his tongue over his teeth. "We're not on good terms cause I don't like you, kay? So, stay the fuck away unless you like scrap. Talk to me again and I'll kick your ass."

Wyatt stepped closer and more into Gene's space. It wasn't a friendly reaction, especially compared to Wyatt's previous attempts to make nice. By the way Gene held his expression, Wyatt figured this was really what Gene wanted to accomplish. They truly weren't on the same side, no matter how hard Wyatt had been trying. When sparring didn't work, he didn't know what else to do. "You better get real good at avoiding me then. Try and kick my ass, and you'll just get an instant replay." He explained; talking about the fact that he'd just won the spar. "I don't want to fight, but I'll just win again, man."

Gene ran his tongue over his teeth again and looked away as he laughed, shaking his head. Part of him respected Wyatt more from his reply, but that didn't stop the fact that he'd talked a bit game, and he had every intention of putting his money where his mouth was. "Should've stopped talking." He swung for Wyatt's face.

Even if Wyatt hadn't saw the punch coming, he felt like it was going to happen. With the way the two were going head-to-head with their verbal low blows, it was no surprise that they ended up fighting again. Gene's fist made contact but Wyatt was already soaked with sweat and adrenaline. He bounced back quickly and gripped Gene's shirt so that he could swing a punch at the other male's jaw in retaliation.

The hit hurt, and Gene’s jaw was already swelling from the blow, but he was hardly ready to stop. The fight was only going to end with one of them on the floor, that much was already clear. From where Wyatt held his shirt, Gene shifted closer and then turned so he could get more momentum on his next blow to his opponent’s chest.

Wyatt was hit in the chest. This only made him loosen his grip on Gene, but his anger still burnt hot. He staggered, but Gene's words had pushed the wrong buttons. Using that hand to line up another shot, he launched a punch at Gene's stomach this time.

Before he knew it, Gene was doubled over, but he wasn’t about to let that stop him. He used his position to wrap his arms around Wyatt’s middle, and tried to use the momentum to send them both to the ground.

Wyatt fought against it but was soon brought to the ground. He didn't go down without taking Gene down with him though and that's where he tried to continue their scrap.

Gene hit the ground hard, but scrambled to his hands and knees, raising his fist so he could send it down on Wyatt’s face again, but it made no connection. He was being pulled away, and struggled against the person with their arms wrapped around his middle. 

“Ge-e-ene!” Terence bleated, trying to shake some sense into his friend. “What in Hades are you doing? This is for spars, not a place to duke it out.” 

As he was chided, Gene stopped struggling, and, back on his feet once more, he looked between Wyatt and his satyr friend. He let out a sound of discontent and turned to walk away, not touching any part of himself to show that he was sore, unwilling to give Wyatt the satisfaction.

Wyatt pulled himself up from the ground and he too tried to not rub the parts that Gene had hit. While Gene chose to walk away, Wyatt clenched and unclenched his fists in an attempt to calm down. With a surge of annoyance, he looked at Terence. "He was asking for it." He claimed and finally broke away with a frustrated huff and headed in the other direction, away from Gene.

[angelicspaceprince]

Angst/comfort Beetlejuice/reader? The latter wakes up from a nightmare to end all nightmares. (Bonus angst for it involving dying, brutally or otherwise)

I did both because I can also angstor at least an attempt at:

TW: Mentions of suicide, domesticviolence (sorta), murder (sorta), and just….look you both die in your dreamsand it fucks you up a little bit on the inside ok? I stepped away from my hc ofhow he died and did the more commonly accepted one with a mix of one that someoneI rp with brought up during one of our sessions because the PAIN GOT TO ME IHAD TO PUT IT IN HERE so then I wasn’t repeating myself throughout the hcs.

Reader:

It started pleasant enough

You were dreaming that Beej hadtaken you on an impromptu date to the Netherworld, something that was oddbecause he said he’d prefer to say on your side of the pond, but also notbecause he knew you were keen to check out his ‘home’

It had been interesting day sofar, everything was just so odd comparedto home

You loved it

Buildings didn’t make sense, thepeople were strange and peculiar and interesting

Even the sounds were just sounworldly, and just so different and fascinating

Beetlejuice had been leading youaround, giving you the grand tour as you hold onto his hand and just take ineverything

You had failed to realise the slowlydarkening tone of your dream

You had managed to wander to apart of the Netherworld that had a river that, instead of water, was runningwith thick, black, ink. Not quite goo or slime, but thicker than water

Beej was encouraging you to jump in,but you felt nervous. It didn’t feel right,you didn’t think you could swim in something like that

The more you suggested he gofirst, the more annoyed and angrier he became

You finally said, outright, thatyou weren’t going in, period. It was just too unsafe.

You didn’t see him move behindyou, but you felt his hand push you to the side of the river bank and then promptlyinto the water

You were right. It was impossibleto swim, to see, and the more time you spent in the river, the thicker the inkbecame

It filled your stomach, yourlungs, it soaked your clothes, weighing you down

The worst part is hearingBeetlejuice’s laughter throughout. This loud, high pitch cackle that filledyour ears and made your heart sink and stomach fill with dread, mixing in withthe now slime-y ink.

You called out for him to helpyou, save you and all you heard was his laughter

“You think I’m going to save you?I don’t even like you! I’ve beenwanting to do this for so long, watch a stupid little breather die. I’m justglad you were stupid enough to trust me.”

You held back tears and tried to keepyour head above water, only to feel something long, thin and slimy crawl upyour legs and promptly yank you down under the ink

You wake up with a gasp, handracing up to your throat as you take in a few heavy, deep breaths, sitting upas you reassess the situation

You’re alive.

A sudden, cool arm wrappingaround your waist makes you screech out in terror when you see the concerneddemon looking over at you, hair still a sleepy green with the beginning of a fewstreaks of white

You panic, still thinking he wasclose to killing you, so you rip yourself from him and crawl to the other sideof the bed, giving yourself some space to calm down.

‘Just a dream, just a dream, justa fucking dream.’ You repeat to yourself as you watch Beetlejuice’s hair gofrom sleepy green and concerned white, to slightly blue tinged with a concernedyellow

He sits up and moves to give yousome space, sitting up and watching you carefully. He’s speaking, but you can’thear his words, so you focus on your breathing. It’s ok, you’re alive, you’resafe, he wouldn’t actually hurt you. Would he?

“Babes? Cmon, talk to me, what’sgoing on, are you ok?” You finally hear him say. You shake your head.

“Bad dream.” Is all you offer,still a bit wary of the ghost with the most.

He hesitates. “Do you want totalk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

“Should you?”

“Probably.”

You take a breath before slowlymoving over to where you were laying before, tapping the space next to you toreinvite him back to where you were when you first woke up

“You murdered me.” Was all youoffer. “Through me in this river. I drowned. You said that…..” You wipe awaythe few tears you have with your hands as BJ carefully pulls you closer so hecan hold you close. “You said that you didn’t even like me.” You whisper thefinal part out

Beetlejuice squeezes you tighteras he just holds you in silence, tracing faint patterns on your skin as he letsyou re-centre.

“You know I love you, right babes?”He finally asks quietly. You hum and nod, moving to rest your head to his chest.“And I’d never do anything to hurt you without you asking first?” You nodagain.

“It was just a dream, Beej.”

“You were terrified when you woke up!”

“Yeah, but I’m better now.”

“You were terrified of me!”

You look up and can see the fearand the depression seeping through him. You sit up slowly and move to give hima kiss.

“I love you, Beej. I’m not scaredof you. I promise.” You swear against his lips. “I know you’d never hurt me,not like that, never like that.”

His hands grip at your hips asyou resettle, this time on top of him. “I know you’re here to protect me, Bug.”You murmur against his skin as you slowly begin to drift away

Beetlejuice didn’t sleep anotherwink, however. The self-doubt about if he could be good for you drifting intohis mind again, keeping him awake as he just holds you close and treasuresthese quiet moments as his brain slowly starts to convince him that, perhaps itwould be better for you if the two of you weren’t together anymore.

HenevergetsthechancetodumpyouthobcyouarenothavinganyofthatBugshutupandletthemloveyou

Beetlejuice:

Contrary to popular belief, Beetlejuicedoes dream

He has to be drunk off his ass orhigh off his tits in order for it to happen, but it does happen

It’s rare that he has gooddreams, however. Most of his life has been plagued with just generalshittiness, and when he’s asleep, the guards he’s put up fail and the memoriescome flooding back

This particular time, the both ofyou had gotten way too drunk and had crashed together onto your bed, him layingon top of you as you sprawl out beneath him

It didn’t take long for thedreams to start

He was back to the day he died

He was hurting, but the reasonwhy he was hurting had changed

He had found you dead, knifethrough your heart with a note attached

‘I can’t do it anymore Lawrence. You’re just too much, too damaged, youhurt me every day that I see you. I’m sorry, I wish I could have loved you.’Was all of the note he could make out.

You didn’t love him? I mean, how couldyou? He was a damaged man, an alcoholic and drug addict with a temper

He’d never hurt you, but theamount of shouting matches the two of you have had were always loud, destructive,awful

They only ever happened when hehad partaken of the gin or coke, unfortunately in this life those were the onlytwo things that kept him going

But because of them, he lost you

He didn’t realise he was cryingor pulling at his then brown hair until he noticed that the note was gettingwetter in his hands, already soaked with blood that was hiding parts of themessage

He killed you

He destroyed you

He was nothing but a murderer

Everything else was on automatic

He’d been planning this formonths, the only thing keeping him from going through with it was you

But now there was nothing holdinghim back. He was drunk, high, depressed and alone

Tying the noose was the hardest partof it all but after that, it was just like clockwork

It should have been automatic,but he fucked it up

His neck didn’t snap, he was leftdangling as he slowly felt his airway close, kicking and screaming and shoutingthe entire time

“Beej?”

No one came to help him, no oneever did but you

“BJ, love, are you ok?”

He had full view of your deadbody as he slowly felt himself suffocate, vision going spotty.

“Beetlejuice?”

Slowly his eyes closed as heaccepted that he was a failure at everything.

“Beetlejuice!”

Even his own death.

“Goddamnit Beetlejuice wake up!”

He woke up with a start, hands graspingtightly onto your shirt that his knuckles are bright white, matching his haircolour as he breathes heavily into your chest

You have your arms wrapped aroundhim, and don’t comment on the fact that your chest is wet from him crying inhis sleep. You woke up to hear him calling your name and crying, when you triedto wake him, he just clinged to your body and apologised over and over and over

Finally, he sniffles a little bitand the tears stop. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You kiss the top of hishead, the white slowly turning into a faint green colour as he relaxes when herealises it was just a dream. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Do you need to talk about it?”

“No.”

You hum, clearly disagreeing butrefuse to push the matter so you just hold him close and let him take what heneeds from you. “I love you Bug.” Is all you say as you play with his hair andrub his back, pressing kisses over his face and along his neck in an attempt tomake him smile, which he does half heartedly after a few minutes.

“I love you too, babes.” He graspsyou tighter when you shift, only relaxing once you do too.

“M not going anywhere, pet.” Youpromise, voice filled with sleep, already knowing where his mind was going. “You’restuck with me. For better or for worse.” You can feel his smile against yourshoulder.

“You’re not going anywherebecause we are never leaving this position babes.” You snort.

“Whatever you say, lovely.” Younotice his breathing beginning to even out. “Goodnight Beej.”

The next day he’s very clingy andrefuses to tell you what he dreamt about, but you grant him his space and justbe there for him.

You promised you weren’t going toleave him, and you were going to stick to that promise. Regardless of whattricks his brain may play.

[imaginesfrommetoyou]

things you said [1/12]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Summary: As you fight to move on from your past, it seems that some parts can never be forgotten. Otherwise known as a slow deconstruction of your relationship with Bucky Barnes.

things you said while we were driving. 

The windows are rolled down halfway, the night air billowing in as you drive down the dark and winding road. Bucky sits silently in the passenger seat, flesh arm resting on the door as he looks up at the stars. The radio is as low as it can go without not being able to hear it; the song is slow, melancholy dripping from the voice that echoes through the car. It’s a peaceful kind of night, a type that you only have with each other. Away from the outside world, travelling but for the time being, simply resting in a middle place that is seemingly untouched by reality. There is nothing forced and nothing bad. There is the space between your bodies in the front of the car and the feeling of safety that comes along with it.

“It was sweet, you know,” you speak up. These are the first words spoken in the entirety of the first two hours of the ride, but the silence between the two of you hadn’t been uncomfortable. It was half after one in the morning and the two of you were exhausted after such a long day of gathering intel for a mission.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky replies, voice rough from barely being used. He’s genuinely confused as to what you’re talking about. Sure, the two of you weren’t close, but he had always prided himself on being able to read people. He struggled the most with you out of everyone else on the team; it was what drew him to you. 

You chuckle quietly, eyes flashing over to where he has turned to face you before flitting back to the road ahead of you. “You volunteering to come with me so that Steve didn’t have to,” you elaborate. “He’s always doing too much but that doesn’t stop him from caring about everyone so much. I didn’t really need anyone to come with me, it’s my problem… not that I don’t appreciate your help-”

Bucky hides the shy smile that’s forming on his face as he turns back to the window. “Just because it’s something from your past doesn’t mean that it isn’t important to the rest of us.” His voice is so smooth, so full of truth that you can’t help the skip of your heart in your chest. “I’m happy to help, especially since it means that Steve will maybe just rest for a bit.”

“Thanks, Bucky,” you whisper, shifting in your seat as you attempt to stretch your legs a little bit. “And I’d help you… if you ever need anything, I’ll be there. I know we’re barely even friends, but I’d like to be.”

“You wanna be friends?”

“Unless you don’t wanna be-”

“I guess I could use another friend.” You smile brightly, looking at him quickly so he can see your excitement. “Shuri always said that I was too much of a loner.”

“Wonder why she’d ever say that?” You joke. Bucky chuckles at that, watching as you shift again.

“Pull over,” he instructs you. “I’ll drive the rest of the way.”

You shake your head. “You drove us here-”

“I don’t mind, Y/N.”

Slowly, you pull over to the side of the road. Before you can fully stop, Bucky is already unbuckling and reaching for something in the back. He brings his metal hand back as he clutches onto a navy blue blanket before setting it onto the dash.

“Planning on falling asleep?” You joke as the two of you get out of the car to trade spots. You pause in front of the car, headlights making his face completely visible and readable as the two of you stand across from each other.

“Course not, doll,” he replies, a smile tugging at his lips. You’ve never seen him smile this much, never seen him so relaxed. “But you should get some sleep. I’ll wake you up when we get back to the compound.”

He steps around you, briefly placing his hand on your arm so that he can move between you and the car. His touch feels like it ignites a flame that dances across your skin and travels up to your face. Warmth envelops your body as you stand there dumbstruck for a moment, jumping slightly as you hear Bucky open his door. With a shake of your head, you head to the passenger side, opening the door and sliding in before the car takes off once again.

You rest the blanket on top of your lap, arms resting on top of it as you look out the window. Bucky has skipped the last three songs before finally settling on one, leaning back in his seat as he focuses on the road ahead.

“Do you know him?” You ask after a few minutes of silence. “The man I’m going after… I only know him as Castillo. He was… my handler? I guess that’s what I should call him, but he was in charge of the facility. Hydra, of course, was in charge of him.”

Bucky’s grip on the wheel tightens at the mention of the man. Everyone on the Avengers knew little about your past. Your case was kept under a tight seal placed by Fury, something that nobody could get past no matter how hard they tried.

Tony had tried at first, though. He pestered Fury and asked you sneaky questions. You couldn’t give him what he wanted, solid answers and information about everything you had gone through. So you showed him one of your gifts; access to one of your memories. When he had stopped screaming, you gave him a warm hug and left him to reassess if he was ready for everything that came along with your true story.

Natasha was curious, too, and she had said a few times that you looked familiar. Like someone who had lurked in the shadows, a ghost passing through her line of sight occasionally during her time before SHIELD. She asked you about it once only to be met with tight lips and a shake of your head. There was pain in your eyes, and while she didn’t understand what you saw when you looked at her, she knew that she was in no position to be asking for your life story. It was only later when she received a red piece of paper that she understood. Red was her past, and it seemed that it was a part of yours too.

Bucky had felt the same thing when he looked at you. A sense that he had known you a lifetime ago. Your eyes were striking when he first looked at you in D.C. back in 2014. You had been recruited just after the battle of New York, moving to D.C. with Steve as you attempted to find a place in a world that you had been hidden from for so long. You fought at Steve’s side as SHIELD was compromised and the Winter Soldier made an appearance. He saw you as he dragged Steve out of the water. There was a flutter in his chest that made him want to go after you on the spot. You scared him, causing a reaction in him that he had never felt or didn’t remember feeling; he didn’t understand that the sensation had been wiped from him long ago.

You had watched from the trees as he dropped Steve on the ground. He was terrified of you, unsure as to what your intent was as you watched him. He shakily backed away, retreating into the trees on the other side as you remained silent. You reminded him of something, someone that he hadn’t seen in too long. And as he walked away from you, he couldn’t help but want to find out who you were.

And he did. When the fight started between Tony and Steve, you helped to find Bucky. You were always fighting at Steve’s side, and he couldn’t help but to admire that. It seemed that whenever he looked at you, there was a fresh wave of emotions. Mistrust. Comfort. Anger. Sadness. Affection. All of these things that had been buried for so long.

After the fight, when everyone accepted their losses and compromised, reuniting the team and welcoming Bucky, you didn’t acknowledge anything that he was feeling. You had introduced yourself to him formally and created a friendship with him. And he went along with anything that you put in front of him.

“Bucky?” Your voice pulls him from his thoughts.

“Wh-What?” He stammers out, tongue darting out to dampen his chapped lips. His knuckles ache from gripping too tight onto the steering wheel. His eyes dart over to where you’re facing him, concern evident on your face.

“I asked you about Castillo and you zoned out,” you tell him softly. “I’m sorry if that brought you back to a dark place.”

He sighs, hand running over his face as he takes a moment to collect himself. “Yeah, I know who he is,” Bucky says. He can’t tell you that your question didn’t bring him to a dark place, that he instead got sidetracked by his past with you. The feelings that you awakened inside of him that he just couldn’t explain. “I interacted with him a few times. The Red Room.” You flinch at the words. He makes note of that. “My own times in confinement. He was a terrible person… still is.”

“What do you know about him?”

“Not much,” Bucky begins. “He was a different division, specialized in the gifted. But he was cruel. I remember feeling sorry for those he watched over. He was manipulative, frightening, and he always had his own agenda. Hydra was his job, but it wasn’t his mission.”

You remember Castillo as everything Bucky is describing him as. During your time as one of Hydra’s projects, he displayed many horrifying traits. “What do you mean about the mission?”

“He wanted his own empire to rule over. Using the enhanced as puppets, taking whatever he wanted without any consequences. He wanted total control and he was willing to do anything to get it.”

A chill sets into your bones and shakes you from the inside out. Your hand lands on the button for the window, quickly making it go up; Bucky notices the goosebumps on your skin and does the same to the other windows. The music fills the silence between the two of you as you stare out the window.

“I’m going to kill him, you know,” you confide in him. It’s something you’ve told yourself since escaping from Hydra. Ever since Fury saved you from your burning cell, promising you a life that would be your own.

“I’ll be there for you, every step of the way, doll.” There’s a truth in his words that even he doesn’t know the strength of. A part of him that’s buried so deep, threatening to spill out at any moment and revealing the truth about a life he doesn’t know. Because there was a part of him that said those words to you a long time ago, and all he knows now is that there’s a fire in his soul and you’re the one holding the matches in one hand and a bucket of water in the other.  

[girlonastring]

List of Future H50 Fic

1) Graceless:

Danny loses visitation/rights until the reassessment of his job adjourns; after discovering Rachel is moving with Stan to Hawaii, he transfers to HPD. No one there knows about Grace (until he knows his fate, talking about her is too painful), not even after joining Five-0.

Until one day, he hears that precious voice say ‘Danno’ and he turns to the best sight in the world: his baby girl.

The bulk of the story will be of that scene, and the events that follow. It’ll have angst, drama, family moments - and pre-Mcdanno. Depending on how long it goes, they may even be starting a relationship. But they are definitely end game.

2) Any Man of Mine:

A combination of Steve things like the song, or the opposite to it. I still haven’t quite worked out all the details for that, but it’s what I’m aiming for. Will start off with a memory of Danny singing along to the song with Grace, and later will have her bringing up the similarities of their song and Steve to Danno, and bonding over that.

It’ll be pre-Mcdanno, but also that lovely trope where they’ve basically been dating for forever, but only one of them really notices it. Which will be Danny! Also, a 5+1 because I LOVE that!

3) Undercover WitSec:

This one is pure indulgence for me. I love the idea of Danny having been undercover when he worked back in Jersey, so in this he’ll have been undercover (thinking maybe with the mob?? Still deciding) and gotten close with a kid (placing this before!Grace, but still with Rachel) and when all is said and done, the kid (an OFC, because I can) is put in witness protection.

Shoot forward however many years, and he’s in Hawaii, and the only ones who know about this girl are Rachel (because she’s a big reason why he wanted a kid) and Grace (honorary big sister no one knows about; why she knows exactly I don’t know?? Haven’t figured that out yet) so when this girl shows up, calling Danny something no one understands in Italian cue the shocked reactions!

The reason she was in witsec is ‘dead’ so she’s back and it’s getting their lives resettled, have some nice pre-Mcdanno going on, then low and behold, the reason is not really dead and we have some action. Ends in established Mcdanno!

4) Serial Revenge:

Thought this one up at work yesterday and I am P U M P E D for it! Still figuring out a lot of the details, so this overview will be even shorter.

Danny is friends with this kid when he’s young, who seems so normal, but one day it’s discovered his parents are dead. Not only dead, but murdered. He has his suspicions about it, but nothing is ever tied together and so the kid (who something is obviously not right about - still figuring out that detail!) is sent to a mental hospital (foster care from there?? Don’t know yet!)

Flash forward and we’re in Hawaii, and there are killing happening that Five-0 dont’ know about until somehow, there’s a Danny connection and HPD calls them in.

Grace is sent away for safety, Danny is living with Steve for the same reason, bodies keep showing up, and it’s a race to figure out who it is, then to prove it AND stop him.

Killer winds up dead in the end, we get Mcdanno happening, and I am so very ready for this fic!

5) Dolled Up Steve:

Steve watching Grace at his house while Danny has to go do - something, and they play tea party and dolls and hey, dress up for the tea party! And when Danny comes back to find Grace doing Steve’s nails, look of intense concentration while she jabs away, and Steve is looking at her like she’s his whole world? So fond and full of love? That is Danny’s ‘oh shit I’m in love with this dumbass moment’.

I have a feeling this will jump from Danny POV, to Steve POV, back to Danny POV.

6) Sunshine & Whiskey:

Follows along with the lyrics that I chose a while back, and most likely will wind up a PWP. Maybe get some lime, maybe get some lemon. Just waiting on it to let me know what we’re doin’!

7) I've Got You Under My Skin:

The sap for this one! Established relationship, living together, and during a tender moment when they’re swaying in the living room/kitchen (haven’t decided;;) along to Frank Sinatra, someone proposes. <3 Then! Another chapter of them slow dancing to the same song at their wedding. <33

8) Pour Some Sugar:

So Danny in a private moment of Rachel’s bachelorette party did a strip routine for her and at a party Kono and Malia find out about it and it turns into him doing a very funny, extra snippet for Kono’s bachelorette party which he then gets to join. No one figures this out until Kono makes a comment about a tattoo that Danny has that’s not exactly public friendly, followed by Danny saying something about bachelorette parties getting crazy.

So Steve and Chin wind up finding out, which of course leads to Steve getting to see the routine in his own private moment, but made different so it’s just for him. And yes, there will be an explanation to why Danny knows how to do a strip routine, lol

9) Pictures Worth:

So Danny overhears Kono and Malia talking about tasteful pictures being done for a wedding gift and tells them “hey, that can be done” And he pulls them aside and shows them photos he took of a high school ex that she had done as a wedding gift for her wife, and “see, tasteful, just do it like that”

They discuss it and he helps them find someone on the island who will do it and be discreet/comfortable. What he doesn’t share is that before he took the ones of his ex, he did practice shots of himself so that he could be sure the gift turned out perfect. No one else knows this - not even Rachel.

I don’t know how Steve and Chin will find out (or why they have to, but I apparently like to involve the team in this set up *shrugs*) and Steve finds out about his private shoot and there’s Mcdanno goodness!

10) Too Close:

Old friends of Danny’s come to the island for a visit, and one night when they’ve had a bit to drink he admits that Too Close by Next makes him think of Steve, talking about the hot and bothered aspect of it - he’s quite smashed at this point. At a party for the old friends to meet the new, Kono and the girl friend (or the girl friend and the guy friend {they’re married!}) are talking about how clueless Steve and Danny are and how they need to get together already etc

Later they’ve had enough and the friend mentions the song mention so Kono sets it as Steve’s tone on Danny’s phone and ‘loses’ the phone so Steve has to call. The rest of the story is dealin’ with the aftermath of that and of course the Mcdanno!

11) It Wasn’t Me:

Danny and maybe Rachel having a normal day when all of a sudden their little angel goes through singing the chorus of the aforementioned song and just flipping their shit.

After finding out that they have Uncle Matty to thank because he thought Gracie was asleep but she wasn’t and having to explain that it wasn’t an appropriate song for her to be singing and something about “Cheating is wrong” so that when Grace finds out about Rachel and Stan and later Danny and Rachel (possibly) its just “so you two are hypocrites” or something.

Essentially I just want that initial freak out, and definitely will be finding some way to put Mcdanno in it!

12) DILF:

So Steve is Grace’s teacher and she overhears him saying that Danny is a DILF and later she asks her dad what that means and the choking on a drink and going bright red and trying to figure out what the heck to do with that, how to answer. The rest is yet to be determined, but of course it will be Mcdanno!

13) Love Bug:

YOU GUYS. I forgot about this one! This is what the title says: people of Hawaii are being bitten by a love bug, and the team is on the case to find out what the heck is going on! The effects can get more dangerous the longer there is no cure, so of course Steve is bitten. Not only that, but he just can’t seem to keep his hands or eyes off of Danny! There’s intrigue, case solving, and awkward I-couldn’t-keep-my-hands-off-you avoidance that all ends in lovely Mcdanno <3

14) Sleepy Prompt #20

“I think your hair is cute when you wake up, if only you could see it the way I did.”

15) Smut Prompt #57

“If we get caught I’m blaming you.”

16) Smut Prompt #59

“Wow, I didn’t realize you were that...flexible.”

17) Whumptober Prompt #7

Isolation

18) Whumptober Prompt #8

Stab Wound

19) Whumptober Prompt #9 

Shackled

20) Whumptober Prompt #10

Unconscious

21) Whumptober Prompt #11

Stitches (continuation of day 3)

22) Whumptober Prompt #12

Don’t Move

23) Whumptober Prompt #13

Adrenaline

24) Whumptober Prompt #16

Pinned Down

25) Whumptober Prompt #18

Wake Up

26) Whumptober Prompt #19

Asphyxiation

27) Whumptober Prompt #20

Trembling

28) Whumptober Prompt #21

Laced Drink

29) Whumptober Prompt #23

Bleeding Out

30) Whumptober Prompt #24

Secret Injury

31) Whumptober Prompt #26

Abandoned 

32) Whumptober Prompt #27

Ransom (continuation of day 26)

33) Whumptober Prompt #28

Beaten

34) Whumptober Prompt #29

Numb (continuation of day 28)

35) Whumptober Prompt #30

Recovery (continuation of day 12)

36) Whumptober Prompt #31

Embrace

37) Sleepy Prompt #34

“Will you carry me to bed?”

38) 5+1 Mistletoe

Basically the 5 kisses Steve shared under the mistletoe that were platonic and the one that meant the most. Gotta find my notes for this!

39) A.D.I.D.A.S.

A 5+1 esque fic of smut scenes!

So there are the ideas so far! A few have been mentioned in previous posts, I just don’t know how to link them in this one. They will be coming out in no particular order, and it will take one time because I will wind up writing multiple ones at once. It’s just a matter of which one is speaking louder to me!

I hope someone else is excited for this with me, and please, feel free to talk to me about any of them! Honestly I am so pumped to write them all, I can’t wait to get them all started! :D

Edit: July 19, 2019  August 21, 2020

[simplyplain42]

The Dance of Soulmates

My Hero Academia. Soulmate AU. Bakugo x Reader.

Summary: You finally get to meet your soul mate as the words tattooed on your wirst are finally said. But what happens if the fiery blond your bonded to refuses to admit you are his soulmate?

The Dance of Soulmates

People say your life starts twice. Once when you are born into the world naked and crying. The second is when you meet your soulmate. If you ever have the chance to.

You were lucky enough to have that chance.

“Hey dipshit, you’re in my seat.”

Those six words rang in your head like an alarm clock waking you up to your second life. You could only hope those words were from your soulmate and not a mishap of occurrence that many have suffered.

You arched your brow and casually glanced over your shoulder. Even if those words were printed on your wrist since you were an infant, you weren’t going to take the rudeness.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see asshat written on it.” You replied coolly with a nonchalant voice.

You caught his brief surprise. The fraction of his eyes widened at your response as recognition sank in, but he did not flinch to check his own wrist.

Instead, the blond boy standing behind you remained standing defensively. His heavy glare not once lifting from you.  

You fought a smirk that was creeping its way onto your lips. You always wondered how this situation would go and what kind of tone would be set. You didn’t want to create a bad first impression on your soulmate, but you weren’t sure of his personality yet. So far, you could tell he had a vulgar mouth and intimidating face.

You tilted your head at him about to say something else when the teacher arrived, cutting your interaction with your soulmate off.

You stepped away from the blond boy’s desk that you were leaning on when you were talking to your childhood friend, Jiro. You made your way to the front of the class as you were introduced to everyone as a transfer student and then assigned an empty seat.

All throughout the class, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of someone’s eyes on you. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was distracting. You didn’t dare peek at the person, because you already had a feeling who it was.

When class was over, you expected the spicy blond to approach you, but he didn’t. He shot you plenty of looks in class, but he apparently wasn’t interested in talking to you. You would have been lying to say that didn’t hurt, but you were a big kid now and training to be a hero. You could deal with a little pain and if your soulmate wanted nothing to do with you, then so be it.

You knew there were some soulmates that grew up never wanting to try a relationship because they felt undeserving, they were too damage, they had different goals, or didn’t want a relationship. Your soulmate had his reasons, but you weren’t going to jump all over him just to find out why.

You stuck to your own routine and made the best out of this new situation. At least you already had one friend here, Jiro, so you stuck close to her as much as you could and slyly learned about your soulmate Bakugo.

After a week, you were starting to get comfortable and you had made new friends along the way. Almost instantly you got to know Mina, Sero, and Kirishima. They were such friendly and nice people that you started hanging around them and unintentionally being around your soulmate more.

Although, you sat with Jiro at lunch, you chit chatted with the other three between classes, in the dormitories, and even during study time. It was during study time, that you had your next interaction with Bakugo.

He placed his books roughly down on the table, jolting the four of you to look up at his presence. He looked gruff as he sat down beside you, only connecting eyes with his three friends across from you.

“Hey Bakugo, what’s up?” Kirishima greeted with a smile.

“Nothing. Came to study with you morons.”  

“Really? You always preferred to study alone.” Sero mentioned surprised.

“Yea, you always said we’re too loud.” Mina said.

You noticed Bakugo’s temple beginning to throb. “I figure you losers could use the damn help, but if this is going to turn into a f’n investigation, I’m f’n out.” He challenged.

Immediately Kirishima put his hands up. “Nah, its cool. Let’s get to it.”

So, the four of you studied together. Bakugo was typically silent unless the answer his three friends were debating was absolutely wrong. He was constantly looking down at his textbook and glaring, but he would turn his red eyes onto you when you started talking. 

You caught where his eyes roamed a few times. Mostly over your face but also a couple times over your wrist where the tattoo of your soulmate’s words were written. You knew he was getting confirmation to see if you were his match, and you only wondered what he was going to do once he knew.

You found out two days later.

The hero’s class was out in the training grounds to practice with their quirks. Aizawa didn’t care if the students wanted to pair off to train or work by themselves. You were just stretching out your limbs when the hot-head blond boy came marching up to you.

“You wanna train together?” He asked curtly. His face set in that natural pissed off look, like the world is full of shit.

You easily nodded, interested to see where this would go. Plus, you were curious how well he handled his quirk. You heard from class what his quirk was and that he had won the Sports Festival his first year here. You knew he had to be impressive.

The two of you stocked off to a secluded court. Both of you stood facing each other, waiting.

“Are we going to stare at each other all day?” You amused.

His intense gaze narrowed more in annoyance. “No.” he answered shortly, taking his hands out of his pockets, stretching his fingers. “What’s your damn quirk anyway?”

You smiled before demonstrating quickly. Your image flashed in front of his eyes twice before you were suddenly behind him. “I’m a space jumper.”

He turned quickly. There was a hint of surprise on his face. He took a step back as he reassessed you. “I’m assuming you have a limited range of distance that you can teleport.”

“You’re quick, aren’t you?” You teased. “I’m not giving up my secrets before we spar.”

A slight blush rose on his cheeks at your flirty tone. “Fine, let’s go then.”

Instantly, you two began sparring. You stayed clear of his hands as he used them to catch up to your person as you teleported repeatedly out of his jabs and attacks. You landed two blows from behind him, but your punches were not as strong as what he was used to taking. They didn’t seem to slow him down.

The two of you continued on for several minutes until finally Bakugo got the best of you. He ducked as you sprang up behind him and he whipped out his leg to trip you. You fell to the blacktop with a thud and not a moment later, Bakugo’s hand was on your neck. His grip was not tight, but light and slightly damp from his sweat.

He was glaring at you still, but it was lighter than before.

“Checkmate, unless you can teleport while touching someone else.” He mentioned breathing hard from his nose at the exercise.

“I can’t,” you admitted out of breath too.

He smirked at his victory for a second as he extracted his hand from you. While doing so, you were able to see the words tattooed on his own wrist. Confirming, your hunch was right.

Bakugo noticed your gaze and sat back on his butt. You sat up with a smile on you face as you met his eyes that were fishing for yours.

“Guess your mine now.” He mentioned.

You chuckled. “Don’t you have to ask me first?”

His glare returned harder, before huffing. “Do you wanna be mine?”

You scooted closer to him and grabbed his hand. “Yes.”

His lips twitched up once more as his frown disappeared. His hand closing around yours.

“Good.”

[shewas-agaystripper]

The Clinic: Part Sixteen

The Clinic: Part Sixteen

Brian is sent off to Queen Mary's Psychiatric Hospital to cure his depression and borderline. His roommates, John in particular, help him push through this difficult time in his life

Hello dear people! It’s been a while since the last part part of The Clinic was uploaded, which has mainly to do with the fact that my original blog of six years was deteled by Tumblr without any sign or warning, and they would not react to any mails so I had to start all over; and two weeks into waiting for them to reply my laptop broke down and I had to take it back to the store. They said it would take 3-4 days to fix it but it took 18 so that was great! However, I now have my laptop back, and I have a new blog (with basically the same name but different dashes). Please feel free to talk to me and shoot me messages! I’m feeling kind of lonely on my new blog still :s

Anyway! The good news is that I finished Part 16 on an alternative laptop, and Part 17 will be finished before the end of the week also, and will follow suit! 

Have fun reading, and any sort of feedback or suggestions is appreciated!

P.s. Normally I’d link all the previous chapters here, but as SOMEONE @staff) deleted my whole entire blog, they’re now gone. If you haven’t read the previous chapters yet, or would like to reread them first, here is the whole thing on my AO3 account!

‘We’ll see you tomorrow, then, in doctor Imholz’ office. Try and fill in as much of this paperwork already, and make sure to be on time.’

With that, a stack of files, and a handshake from each of the individuals present in the dusty but surprisingly spacious staff meeting room, Brian was given permission to leave the room, and he all but stumbled outside. When he closed the door behind him, he could not help but lean against it with his back, close his eyes, and take a deep breath - something he felt like he had been unable to do for the past two hours. 

After having announced to Nolan and doctor Imholz the evening before that he intended to file for a reassessment to try and be dismissed from Queen Mary’s for the sake of being able to support John when he was released, his mentor had called together what they had called a crisis meeting in which staff discussed the viability of Brian’s wish to be released before. It had been a long and stressful meeting, one in which Brian had largely been left to sit back and let people he’d never been aware were responsible for his progress throw technical terms and mental jargon at each other. He had hardly been asked to explain his reasons for wanting to leave Queen Mary’s so soon, but the overall consensus in the end was that they would grant his wish for a reassessment. That was - he had been at Queen Mary’s for at least three months; had never perpetrated any acts of disobedience, vandalism, violence, and the like; had never skipped any meetings with his superiors; had always displayed what Nolan had called ‘proper and respectable behaviour towards staff and patients’, and, borderline or not, he was deemed capable enough to make his own decisions and understanding the consequences of them. 

Thank God. At least they still treated him as human despite the label they had stuck on him.

‘How’d it go?’

Brian recognised the voice of the speaker sooner than he saw him, even though he should have been able to see him from - as a matter of speaking - miles away. Being one of the few patients with long blond hair, Roger always stood out a bit; but now that he was the only one to be seen in the otherwise empty hallway, let alone that he was leaning against the wall right across from Brian, really made hi unmistakeable to Brian, even now that his mind was spinning like a whirlwind. 

‘Eh… I think it went alright?’ Brian said somewhat hesitantly. ‘They said I meet the, uh, qualifications to apply for a reassessment.’

‘And?’ Roger asked, eyes brightening with hope but still a bit cautious, as he, of course, had no idea what had been discussed in his absence. 

‘They said they’ll make a phone call to the board right this afternoon to formally open the process of reassessment.’

‘No way! That’s great news! You’ll get to leave!’ Roger all but shouted across the hallway, and before Brian could prepare for it, he was tackled in a hug so sudden and so tight that he almost dropped the stack of papers he had been clutching against his chest. To be fair, he was still clutching them against his chest; now that Roger had enveloped him in a nearly reckless embrace, there was no other place for him to put his arms other than squeezing them tight against his body. It was uncomfortable for a bit, mainly because Brian wasn’t so outgoing himself, and wasn’t used to Roger behaving this way either. However, as Roger continued to hold him tight and seemed to try and rock him encouragingly by skipping from one leg to the other, all while unintelligible but nonetheless encouraging sounds escaped him, Brian could not help but smile. It was good to see Roger, who he had seen so down and helpless during multiple relapses into whatever drugs he could find himself, be in such a positive mindset again. Of course, nothing was set in stone yet, and Brian realised all too well that chances were that incriminating information against him could be found during his trial, that the psychiatrist who would be called in to examine him could vote against him leaving, and that the jury might deem him unable of returning to society as of yet. But if the official start of his procedure to try and be acquitted from Queen Mary’s brought his friend so much hope and joy, then who was Brian to bring him down?

‘Oh my God, and you’ll be able to leave Queen Mary’s and live happily ever after with John far away from this clown academy!‘ Roger continued to mumble against Brian’s shoulder, and Brian snorted. 

‘That’s a name for Queen Mary’s I haven’t heard before.’

‘Am I wrong though?’ Roger asked, looking up at him in all seriousness. His blue eyes shone brighter than they had done in ages, and Brian couldn’t help but wish that Roger could always be like this, bright and bubbly and alert and happy. 

‘You’re not. But if you don’t stop crushing me now, this clown will have to be admitted into the infirmary with a pair of broken ribs.’

Roger let go of him with a sigh. ‘Don’t think I will leave clown academy alive if John finds out I broke your ribcage.’

Brian felt his heart skip a beat at the mentioning of the name of his partner. John, who had gone through a dreadful night filled with tearful wake-ups and nightmares, and who unfortunately had been least comforted by the idea that Brian was filing for a reassessment among the four of them. Brian had hoped that making that promise to John would alleviate his worries, but it hadn’t quite been the miracle cure he had hoped for. Looking back at it, he should have known better than to think that John’s grey skies would turn to blue at the mere mentioning of the option of reassessment. Despite the fact that John’s depression turned every good news bleak, it was also not at all guaranteed yet that he’d actually be allowed to leave. After this morning’s meeting they had clarity at least to the extent that Brian could be filed for a reassessment, but this of course did not mean his case would be approved of, or how long it would take for his psychiatrists to come to a conclusion. It might take months for all he knew - months of time he simply did not have. 

‘How is he?’ Brian asked carefully. 

‘Very quiet ever since you left for that meeting. We couldn’t persuade him to go out with us to play, so we stayed with him in our dorm.’

‘Thanks,’ Brian said. ‘That you didn’t- didn’t go off without him.’

‘Of course not. We know he’s not very stable at the moment, and he might do things that he’d…’ Roger’s voice trailed off as he searched for the right words to express what they both knew was possible but which neither of them was particularly eager to speak out loud. ‘Either way, he’ll be glad to hear you’ve been approved for reassessment.’

‘Yes, we should go tell him,’ Brian said, trying to oppress the hint of excitement he felt; after all, he had no idea how or even if John was going to react to this spark of good news. ‘Where is he?’

‘In the canteen with Freddie. Can you imagine how confused I was to see Freddie having to drag John to the canteen instead of the other way around?’ Brian, who could not picture the scene at all, shook his head. ‘Come on, I’ll take you there. Lunch started about ten minutes ago but I’m sure they saved us a plate. I’m bloody starving.’

Brian again nodded in agreement - that was, to the part where Roger said they would head back to the canteen. He was not exactly hungry, and would not mind at all if John, in his current state of depression, and Freddie, with his current solitary task of keeping an eye on John, hadn’t thrown some mediocre sandwiches and milk cartons together for their missing friends. Roger might mind a little more, though; he had gone without heroin for quite some days now, and as a result of this was starting to get food cravings. The evening before he had eaten more than all of his roommates together, and breakfast this morning had followed the same pattern. Freddie had looked at him with a glance of horror and Brian could swear he could see Freddie counting up the number of calories and the grams of fat in his head as Roger was making his way through his third serving of milk and honey loops. Personally Brian didn’t think of it as a problem at all. Roger was skin and bone after years of heroin dependency, so if this sudden food /sprawl/ would result in a few extra pounds, it would probably be for the better.

Brian followed Roger through the hallway, half-heartedly listening to his talk of the constant headaches and cold shivers that he experienced now that it had been numerous days without heroin or any other addictive. He nodded and said ‘yes’ and ‘amen’ when appropriate, but it wasn’t until Roger shouted at him to watch his step that he was taken out of the depth of his own mind.

‘Is it Tuesday today? I hope it’s Tuesday, it’s when they sometimes have croissants at lunch. If so, I hope Freddie saved me some, because I’m seriously craving some croissants with jam right now- watch your step!’

A strong hand around his wrist tugged him to the side, and Brian almost lost his balance. His first instinct was to scold Roger for catching him off guard all of a sudden, but when he looked down at the floor below him, his flurry of anger disappeared at once. Half leaning against the wall, half sprawled across the floor was a young man, whose closed eyes and pale face at once struck Brian as a corpse. 

‘Oh my God, Oh my God, Roger-’ Brian clamped a hand over his mouth and staggered a few steps back, staring in pure disbelief at his friend, who somehow remained completely calm and unbothered as he crouched down next to the body.

‘It’s okay. It’s nothing,’ Roger told him. ‘Or well, nothing- just some drugs. He’s still breathing and I can feel a pulse,’ Roger said, his hand around the man’s wrist. ‘Alexej, can you hear me?’  

‘You know this guy?’ Brian asked, still keeping at least a six feet distance between him and the guy who seemed more dead than alive.  

‘Of course. We’re in counseling together every morning. Group therapy or whatever it’s called,’ Roger said nonchalantly. ‘Alexej, can you hear me?’ he repeated - and then, when the guy again did not reply, a sharp slap to his left cheek made Brian shriek and Alexej groan and open one tired eye.

‘Roger!’ Brian whimpered.

‘Don’t worry. I’m in this scene, I know what I’m doing,’ Roger replied without looking up, and Brian was unsure if this answer should console him or stress him out even more. ‘Alex, say something.’

‘Hnn… I feel fuckin’… awful, man,’ the guy said under his breath, but Brian was still able to hear, besides the Slavic accent, the slur in his voice. He had no idea how Roger stayed calm in the midst of this, but then again - Freddie had also always remained calm and collected whenever Roger messed up his clean streak again and was found lying on the dorm room floor with a syringe lodging in his elbow. It was something some people could apparently get used to, but Brian had known right from the start that he was not among these ‘happy few’, or whatever one wanted to call them. 

‘Bet you do. Now, listen. Did you do this yourself?’ Roger asked him. Alexej nodded slowly, and Roger did so too. ‘How much?’

‘Wha?’ Alexej opened one eye again.

‘How many grams?’

His eye fell shut again. ‘Don’t… recall.’

‘Right. Well, sit still, I’m taking this syringe out of you.’ With trained expertise, Roger pulled the needle out of the man’s elbow. It was only when the object had been removed that Brian could see how bruised the skin in and around the addict’s elbow was. The image of it made him queasy, even though he had beheld similar sights on Roger’s arms time and time again. 

Alexej grunted when the tip of the needle was removed from his skin, and a drop of blood trickled down from the small puncture. Roger wiped it away and held the syringe up in the air to inspect the item at close quarters. Brian could not have determined anything from the injection, but Roger, an expert of the field, shook his head condemningly.

‘The filler area is still half full, and there are particles in it. Where’d you get this trash?’

‘Geoff sold it to me.’

‘Of course he did,’ Roger rolled his eyes. ‘Listen, don’t buy his shit again. If this is baking soda or whatever it can cause serious problems,’ he lectured, as if doing heroin wasn’t dangerous enough on its own. Brian would have snorted if the entire situation wouldn’t have been so pathetic. ‘It can clog your blood vessels or even arteries, and you can die from that. I know life in here is shit but it’s not worth dying for. You’re with me?’

‘Got it,’ Alexej grumbled.

Roger nodded, then held the injection up in the air again. ‘This syringe must be rather new. The needle is still very sharp - you don’t see that often in here,’ he said, lightly jabbing the tip of it against his forefinger, which made Brian more than a little nervous. ‘You don’t mind if I keep this as a reward for helping you, Alex, do you?’ he asked, and brought the injection up to the back pocket of his jeans.

‘Roger!’ Brian hissed, and his friend looked up with an innocent expression that definitely was completely unfit for the current situation.

‘What?’ Roger asked.

‘Put that back!’ Brian told him, and Roger, bringing up the syringe again, stared at the object, then at the source of it, and then back at Brian.

‘You mean like this?’ he asked, and Brian couldn’t prevent a gasp of horror when he saw the tip of the needle disappear into the bruised inner area of Alexej’s elbow - quite literally the place it came from indeed.

‘Roger! Stop that!’ he whimpered.

‘Just joking,’ grinned Roger, who then showed that he’d slid the needle right past Alexej’s arm, but which from Brian’s viewing angle made it look as if he’d jammed the injection right back into his arm.

‘Not funny,’ Brian all but pouted, unsure if his heart rate would recover from this stunt of Roger’s anywhere soon. 

‘It was hilarious and you know it,’ Roger said before turning to the person still on the floor. ‘Now, let’s get you on your legs and to the infirmary,’ Roger concluded and placed his hands under Alexej’s armpits, but his patient moved away from him with the little strength he could still muster.

‘No,’ he protested. ‘No infirmary. Been there. Isolation…’ From these half-sentences Roger and Brian were able to conclude that Alexej didn’t want to be sent to the infirmary out of fear that they’d put him in isolation to sober him up, but Roger clearly thought this objection was irrelevant.

‘I’m not gonna have you die on me, Alex,’ he said, gesturing for Brian to come over and help him haul the man off the floor. Brian cautiously stepped closer and positioned himself at the other side of his body, and hesitantly followed Roger’s example of placing his arm under Alexej’s armpit.

‘Won’t… just… no nurses,’ their companion said, struggling to try and keep himself on the floor when Brian’s and Roger’s joint power tried putting him back on his feet. Roger and Alexej argued back and forth, until Roger eventually told his groupmate that he could go if he’d be able to climb the stairs up to the dorm rooms himself. Having made this deal, Alexej allowed Brian and Roger to pick him up beneath the armpits and escort him through the hallway and towards the stairs, on the way of which they fortunately did not come across any staff members who might notice that something was off.

It took some time, persistence, and Roger’s threat of calling in the nurse after all to get Alexej upstairs and in bed. Brian judged that he looked somewhat better than he had done before, and after having gotten him a glass of water and Roger promising him he’d drop by later that afternoon to check up on him, the two men left the room behind to finally go to lunch and meet their friends. Roger was a little disgruntled at having missed the largest share of lunchtime, as he was still ‘hungry enough to eat an entire horse,’ and Brian was anxious to see John and bring him the news. They skipped downstairs, paced towards the canteen, and Brian had Roger somewhat begrudgingly throw the syringe he’d gotten from the encounter with Alexej in the bin before they entered the canteen. They found their friends at the usual spot at the back of the canteen, and Brian all but ran towards them. Somehow Roger was still faster than he was - presumably because he saw a plate loaded with croissants in the middle of the table, the promise of which seemed to make him forget about the syringe he’d just had to throw away on Brian’s watch. 

Once they reached the table, Roger was the first to slump down on the chair next to Freddie, and Brian sat down across from him on the vacant chair next to John. John did not look up at either of them, which made Brian’s heart sink a bit - but the smallest of a smile appeared on his partner’s face when he put his hand over those John had placed in his lap.

Roger was the one to do the talking once he’d settled down and grabbed a croissant from the plate. ‘Sorry we’re late. Had to patch up someone of my drugs group again.’

‘Henry again?’ Freddie asked.

‘No, Alexej. The Latvian guy,’ Roger mumbled between two bites of croissant.

‘Don’t think I know a Latvian guy around here,’ Freddie frowned. ‘But what do I care! How did the meeting go, Brian? Please tell me you’ve got some good news.’

Brian smiled at him, which was really all he had to do; the mere curling of his lips made Freddie squeal in delight.

‘You were approved for reassessment! Oh my God!’ Freddie flashed the biggest smile he’d ever seen him do, and even John looked up with a sparkle of hope in his eyes. ‘You’ll get to leave with Deaky!’

‘I’ve merely been approved, Freddie,’ said Brian, who - despite loving Freddie’s enthusiasm - knew he had to remain realistic. However, now that he had seen John smile at the good news, he allowed himself to share some positivity between the four of them. ‘But they’ve gone to my records and found nothing against me. No drugs smuggling or violence or being disrespectful towards the staff or anything, so the process can go ahead.’

‘Darling, that’s amazing news,’ Freddie said. ‘So what happens now? When will you have meetings with your psychiatrist and such?’

‘I’ll be assigned a new psychiatrist to evaluate me. Someone neutral, they said. I’ll get to meet him tomorrow morning,’ Brian said.

‘What’s his name?’ Freddie asked.

‘You probably don’t know him - he’s coming from an external mental hospital. They have to make sure he doesn’t know a thing about me yet and can’t be prejudiced in any way. Even Sarah and Jasper and doctor Imholz don’t know him,’ Brian said. ‘But his name is Fisher. I hope he’s alright.’

‘I’m sure he’ll be alright. And even if he’s dumb, all you’ll have to do is keep up with him for what, two sessions or so?’ Roger said, grasping the second croissant of the plate.

‘Five sessions,’ Brian corrected him. ‘I’ll see him once every day starting tomorrow until the end of the week. Then he’ll make a judgement about whether I’m ready to leave or not, and if he approves, he’ll vouch in favour of my request at the final hearing.’

‘Final hearing?’

‘Yes, in like three, three and a half weeks my case will go to a kind of court that will decide what to do. You know, two people from the board that rule this and other mental hospitals across the country will hear my case, and make a final decision. Those and - and my former psychiatrist.’ Brian could hear his own voice fall when he mentioned this past member of the jury. He had repressed every memory of professor Sumner for the past few days, even though he knew that once he’d go for a reassessment he would be standing eye to eye with him sooner or later. The thought of it was enough to make him shiver, which John seemed to realise, too. Somewhere along the line of the conversation, Brian had retreated the hand he’d placed on top of John’s hand to be able to awkwardly pluck at his own nails, but now he felt John putting his hand on his upper leg and gently stroking him as a form of wordless comfort. They shared a sideways glance with each other and smiled, which was enough to make Brian realise that his partner’s happiness was worth having to deal with Sumner again a thousand times over. 

Roger, still, was unimpressed with the entire procedure. ‘I think just skipping over the barbed wire would be easier than going through all of this crap. But I’ve gotta admit that I’m pleasantly surprised. I never would have thought Queen Mary’s would be able to pull off an actual protocol like this.’

‘Well, we don’t know that yet,’ Brian said. ‘They called someone in to evaluate me, is all they’ve done so far. And handing me two threes worth of paperwork to fill out.’ He nodded at the pile of papers he had dragged along from the meeting, and Freddie was the first one to pick up the documents lying on top to have a look.

‘Code of conduct. Mental health statement. Mental health history. Family background. Plan for return to society,’ Freddie read out loud. ‘It’s as if you’re to become the British ambassador to Saudi Arabia or something.’

‘I’ve definitely got my work cut out for me,’ Brian said, massaging his temples with his fingertips. Nolan had quickly gone over many of the papers he’d have to fill out in the following weeks, but the amount of them had been so staggering that Brian had felt himself drift off after half a minute. He knew he’d have to bring himself around to fill everything out as well as possible, but the idea of it seemed so daunting. It was so weird, so final, to know that this could be his way out of Queen Mary’s. That within a month he could be free again, free to go and do as he pleased, instead of being locked behind the barred windows and the barbed fences of a mental health institution. It was as if he had been at Queen Mary’s for years, yet at the same time he felt like it had been just yesterday when he had handed over his suitcase and said goodbye to his parents. He wanted nothing more than to leave, especially for the sake of John, but he was nervous. What if he wasn’t ready for it yet? His depression was nowhere near cured, and since no one so far really seemed to know what caused and what could alleviate borderline, he doubted he was very much cured in that area. What if he was to leave Queen Mary’s only to have a breakdown, and be shipped right back in? What would become of John if Brian proved to be unable to deal with the mental mess he still found himself dealing with?

‘When is all of this due?’ asked Freddie as he piled up the lot of papers again.

‘The first papers for tomorrow. Not all of it, but… quite some, I think,’ Brian said. A mere look at the stack of paper was enough to make him feel nervous. 

Roger whistled shortly. ‘I was gonna invite you to go outside and play some music, but I’m afraid you won’t have time for that then?’ 

‘I’m afraid not, no,’ Brian answered. ‘This is, eh, kind of more important at the moment. I need to get this done as much as I can.’

‘I’ll come with you. I’ll help you fill them out,’ John said resolutely, and Brian felt his heart swell.

‘Thank you. I’d love that,’ he whispered at his partner, who smiled at him a little shyly. 

‘Marvellous. Do you want us to help you, too, or should we make way for you to get down to paperwork?’ Freddie asked. Normally Brian would have been too nervous to tell them off, but now that so much was at stake and four people working on the same task would probably just distract him, Brian politely told them John and he would manage on their own - something that, much to his relief, went down well with Freddie.

‘Great. But first the two of you got to eat. Both of you haven’t had any lunch yet, and the canteen is closing in like five minutes. Can you believe that I’ve actually gone through an entire croissant while you weren’t here?’

‘An entire croissant?’ asked an obviously surprised Roger, who never would have expected his boyfriend to eat something like that if not directly faced with the threat of being dragged into the infirmary if he would not budge and eat the calorie bomb.

‘Don’t get too excited, dear. I was merely trying to persuade John to eat,’ Freddie said, which, Brian decided, sounded a lot more like something he would do.

‘You haven’t had anything yet, then?’ Brian asked John, who shrugged.

‘No. Not really hungry.’

‘Even not now that Brian’s come back with such good news?’ Roger asked, but the answer remained no. ‘Come on, Deaks, you have to eat something. Or do you need me to use my techniques for Freddie on you for a change?’ 

John now grimaced, and picked up a croissant from the plate, from which he slowly started plucking strips of bread. Roger, Freddie, and Brian enthusiastically spoke of the progress Brian’s case might be making and what to say to doctor Fisher when he would be standing eye in eye with him - whether to be all upbeat or to be sincere about his emotional condition. Brian, in the meantime, could not really get a hold on what John was feeling. On the one hand he did nod and smile every now and then, and answered without a problem when he was asked a question by one of his friends. Still, his heart did not seem in it, and when the lunch lady came over to tell them lunchtime was over, he had only munched down about half of the croissant, and seemed relieved he was now able to toss the remains of it back on the plate. It was Brian who tried to see if there would be some leeway that would allow them to take some food up to their room.

‘Could we maybe just finish these last croissants upstairs?’ he asked the middle-aged woman, who scanned him and his friends over for a few seconds. ‘It’s just that we had a special meeting with our psychiatrist and only got here five minutes ago,’ Brian tried, which seemed to make the lady think.

‘You know that officially I can’t allow that. It’s against policy,’ she said.

‘Please? John here has barely had anything yet,’ Brian added.

‘It’s okay,’ John said. ‘I’m not hungry. I’ll just have a cup of tea and we’ll go back to our room,’ he said, giving a nod into the direction of the vendor at the other side of the canteen.

‘I’m afraid that won’t do,’ the woman said. 

‘Are you in that much of a hurry to close off the canteen?’ Brian asked. He knew staff had been given orders from above to close off the canteen right after mealtimes, but did that really leave no room for someone to grab a drink before leaving? 

‘Darlings, have you been living underneath a stone?’ Freddie asked. ‘The coffee and tea vendor has been dismantled.’

‘The coffee vendor- why?’ Brian asked with genuine surprise.

‘Because last week Drew threw a cup of burning coffee in Clyde’s face, and he had to be taken to the local hospital for who knows what sort of degree facial burns,’ Roger said with an equal amount of amusement as irritation in his voice. 

‘I don’t even know why this sort of thing surprises me any longer,’ said Brian, lowering his face into his hands. If anything, it should surprise him that none of the masterminds they were surrounded by had come up with the idea of pulling off this prank earlier.

‘This is why we can’t have nice things, I suppose,’ John sighed, the legs of his chair scratching over the floor as he stood up.

‘You know, just take your croissant. You don’t strike me as the trouble-making kind,’ the woman said, which made Freddie grin mischievously, telling Brian that something undoubtedly inappropriate was about to leave his lips.

‘Obviously you haven’t met cold turkey Roger before his seven o’clock shower blowjob yet,’ Freddie said with one arm sneaking around Roger’s waist, but it was quickly batted away by his less than amused boyfriend. 

‘Thank you. We’ll be on our way,’ Brian said to the woman who now looked at them as if she saw water burning. He caught Roger’s lower arm to drag him along and make sure he would not stay behind to say anything in reply to Freddie’s comment that could make the situation even worse than it was already. John understood the hint and followed right behind with the stack of papers Brian had left on the table, and Freddie, probably out of fear of being left to explain himself to a now traumatised lunch lady, wasted no time in following suit. 

Brian all but ushered the couple out of the canteen, and only let go of Roger when his friend was done threatening Freddie that he would take revenge on him one way or another. By the time this happened, they had reached their bedroom already; John opened the door and practically burst into their safe haven. Putting the paperwork on Brian’s nightstand, he flopped down on his own bed, covering his face in his hands. 

Brian was not too sure what to make of this behaviour. John had always seemed relieved to be back in their room after a long morning of group therapy and two shared mealtimes, but his relief to be able to crawl back into seclusion again for the upcoming hours seemed to consist of something more this time. John was still stressed out and feeling down regarding the judgement which had been made concerning his more or less forced removal from Queen Mary’s in a month, and the steps Brian had undertaken to try and be admitted in time with him had so far done little to ease his nerves. He wished he could do something for John to help him ease out of the whirlwind of worries and depressive thoughts, but for the time being, there was little he could do. Promising John he would be right there with him on the day he would be acquitted would be too risky; after all, even though things looked good for him so far, he could not guarantee that his case would be approved of by the jury of mental health experts he would have to appeal to at the end of this trial. Even if it was, he did not know when he would be set free from Queen Mary’s. The judgement date had been set at approximately three and a half weeks from now, meaning that he’d get to hear the decision a few days before John’s expulsion date. He doubted however if Queen Mary’s would let go of him right away, or if - just like in the case of John - they’d allow another month between the judgement and the date of dismission, to allow for a month of transition time. John was currently in the dismission period, which meant he had sessions with social workers who tried to help him establish a routine for when he’s got to leave and return to his old life.

Not that there was much left of his old life, in all honesty. Both his mother and the aunt and uncle he had lived with had thrown him out, and he had no other addresses to return to. The address Brian and he had discussed was that they’d go and live with Brian’s parents for the first few months, before finding an apartment on their own somewhere in the city - which was a plan Brian’s parents had approved of once they had overcome the shock of hearing that Brian was going for a reassessment to leave Queen Mary’s less than six months after he had been sent to it. The counsellors John had spoken too, however, were less convinced of this plan - mainly because it was of yet unsure if Brian would be released at all, or when exactly this would be. They were busy trying to set John up with guided community housing for people just released from hospital, prison, or mental institutions like the one he came from, taking no note of the fact that it would make John miserable to live in a community setting with around the clock guidance and interference. Brian knew that these social workers meant well, but he thought it really rather objectionable that they refused to listen to John’s opinion on being sent to a housing group, and kept pushing forward their vision regardless of the wishes of the one they worked for. The inability of the counsellors and John to see eye to eye on the question of where he was to go after Queen Mary’s would deliver him back into society made John cooperative to the counselling sessions, and brought stress and tension to his days and nights. Brian wished he could drag the counsellors over the desk by their ties and tell them what he thought of their method of ‘helping’ his partner, but since the sessions were closed to John and his mentor only, there was little he could do. All that was within his power was trying to convince his partner that they’d work their way around it, that his parents were willing to let him in even if Brian would not have been set free yet, and pray that his case would be approved of as soon as possible.

‘I’ll just grab my lyrics book and then Roger and I will be on our way,’ Freddie said as he dug through the stack of notebooks in the drawer of his nightstand. ‘Is there anything we can do for you before you leave?’

Apart from a handful of witty comments in the style of ‘burn down Queen Mary’s’ and ‘bribing the judges to make sure they approve of Brian’s case’ John and Brian had little serious matters to ask for, so Freddie and Roger left them with the promise that they’d be gone for a few hours so that the other couple could have lots of time to get down to the paperwork. They left with a handful of pens and a few notebooks, and before they knew it, Brian and John had the entire room to themselves.

‘Well then,’ said John, who by now had removed his hands from his face and reached out for the bunch of papers. ‘Shall we get going, then?’

Brian, in all honesty, was a tad disappointed by John’s offer to get right down to business. He would have preferred to first take a moment to talk about how John was doing today, with the eye on his partner’s reassessment case and the idea of having to leave sooner or later, but he could tell that John had brought up the idea of doing straight to the paperwork that needed to be tackled just so they would not have to talk about how he felt. Brian was not entirely sure if this was the right way to deal with one’s emotions, but after recent events, he knew better than to push John into talking when his boyfriend clearly did not want to. 

‘Alright,’ Brian said, taking a seat on his own bed. ‘What’ve you got there?’

John skimmed through the papers. ‘Family background and Code of Conduct. What do you wanna start with?’

‘I’ll have Code of Conduct. If I’m not mistaken that’s just the way I’m supposed to behave after I leave Queen Mary’s,’ Brian said, holding out his hand for John to give him the papers. Their beds had moved close enough to be at an arm’s length from each other, and Brian suspected it would not take long before they’d permanently shove their beds together just like Freddie and Roger did. 

‘I’ll have a look at the family background. See if there’s anything weird in there,’ John said, to which Brian nodded. For a moment or so they both quietly read through their assigned papers, the only sound being that of flicking papers and that of John’s humming. Though it distracted Brian from reading a little, he had never heard his partner hum before, and decided to let it be - it was cute, after all, and a sign that John felt comfortable. 

‘It says here I’m not supposed to spread overly negative opinions about Queen Mary’s,’ Brian eventually said. ‘And that I’m not allowed to reach out to the press to share negative experiences anonymously.’

‘So does that mean you can share negative experiences un-anonymously?’ John asked.

‘I guess so. Maybe because they can trace me down and beat me up then,’ Brian said.

‘They would if they’d have staff they could miss,’ John grinned.

Brian flicked the page, and read in comfortable silence until a question popped up in his mind. ‘Have you had similar papers to sign? You know, since you’ll be leaving soon?’

‘Yeah, these things sound kind of familiar,’ John said. ‘I just never paid much attention to them.’

‘You didn’t?’

‘Not after I asked if they would keep me if I refused to sign, and they said I’d be let go of regardless,’ John said, and Brian felt a pang of hurt when he was reminded once again that John did not really want to leave this place that was the only home he’d known for these past two years. ‘These papers are just a formality.’

‘Oh. Should I just sign then regardless?’

‘I don’t think you’ll be approved of if you refuse to sign their dumb codes of conduct, I’m afraid,’ John judged. ‘Besides, spilling the beans on Queen Mary’s doesn’t seem like something you’d do anyway.’

‘Probably not, no. Let me just get a pen,’ Brian said, leaning over to open the drawer of his nightstand, then his pencil case, and fish out one of the only two pens he possessed at the moment. Given that Queen Mary’s had a strict no-sharp-objects-policy, getting to keep two pens was a luxury that Brian had come to cherish and a right he wished to protect. With the ballpoint pen in his hand he skimmed through the last paragraphs - something about keeping confidential information confidential and not slandering the names of any of the staff or his fellow patients - he went to put a somewhat shaky signature on the dotted line at the end of the handout. Just as he was halfway through adding the date and location of signing to the document, John caught him by surprise with a business-like question.

‘What is the gross yearly income of your father?’

Brian blinked. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Not for my interest. It’s one of the questions they ask you to answer in this family background. Along with your parents’ work experiences since the age of eighteen, and their involvement with law enforcement for the past twenty-five years, including petty crimes like parking fines and speeding tickets and such.’

Brian took a few seconds to reflect before replying. ‘It really is as if I’m becoming the ambassador of Saudi Arabia,’ he eventually mumbled. ‘Seriously though, how am I supposed to know whether my father was ever fined for driving through a red light before I was even born?’

‘Guess we’ll have to cross-examine him when we see him this weekend,’ John shrugged, straightening out the paper. ‘Both of your parents are coming, right?’

‘Yeah, they should be,’ Brian said. ‘At least that’s what mum said on the phone.’ He could sense John looking at him, but he did not have the courage to look him in the eyes at the moment, so he focussed his attention on the pen he now rolled between his thumb and forefinger. 

‘Are you nervous about seeing them again? Now that- well, since you broke the news to them yesterday?’

Brian hadn’t expected John to ask this question. He wasn’t usually the one to talk about emotions, let alone to bring up the topic if he was not coaxed into doing so. However, even though Brian wasn’t sure if he was quite in the mood to talk about it, he supposed he owed John something of an explanation at this point. He had told John that he had broken the news of trying to leave to his parents, and that they agreed to his request of letting them move in until they’d get an apartment for themselves, but other than that, he had been rather quiet about the whole matter. Part of it was because John hadn’t been very talkative about his reassessment either, but his parents’ emotional reaction had also been weighing in. This was something he had not told John, but he had a feeling that his boyfriend had been able to sense it - and now that he directly addressed the matter, it seemed best to Brian to break it to him.

‘A bit, I guess. My dad wasn’t happy, and my mom - well, eh, she cried. Said I was wasting my chance of healing by getting away from Queen Mary’s before they could complete their job,’ Brian mumbled, and he could feel John’s empathetic eyes on him. ‘But she said that if it was really what I wanted, then she would support me,’ he shrugged it off, even though he still had not completely overcome his mother’s reaction. It was weird in a way, because he had heard her cry a lot over the past six months - the days prior of his admission, the day of his admission, upon saying goodbye, the first few times they had telephoned, the first visit his parents had paid to him at Queen Mary’s - but this seemed different for some reason. Different, perhaps because now she cried not because she missed him, but because she felt so powerless now that he was leaving Queen Mary’s before his treatment was over - she might even be afraid of what was to become of him now that he might soon be out and about in society again. Because she was disappointed in him, or at least with his decision - which was incredibly hard to stomach for Brian. 

‘I’m sure she will support you,’ said John, who reached out a hand to put on Brian’s shoulder. ‘And your father will also come around sooner or later. He always does, you told me once, right? This will be no different.’

‘Probably, yeah,’ Brian said somewhat vaguely. ‘I mean, he’s got little choice - my mum already said yes to our plans, and regardless of what my dad might think, it’s my mum who wears the pants around the house,’ Brian chuckled, but his amusement faded when something else came to mind. ‘She was also the one to send me here, now that I think about it.’

‘She did that because she cares about you, sweetie,’ John said in the softest, most tender voice - one Brian would only get to hear when John tried to comfort him. ‘She couldn’t know it would be such a shitshow in here. She did what she thought would be best for you.’

‘It was, in a way,’ Brian sighed. ‘I never would have met you and those other clowns if I hadn’t been sent here.’

John pulled a face. ‘Out of all possible nicknames you could have called me, clown would be the one I personally never would have used. I’ve never said anything funny in my life.’

Brian begged to differ. ‘You called this place a shitshow like three seconds ago. And Roger called Queen Mary’s a clown academy just this morning.’

‘Sounds like him,’ John snorted before he pulled his hand away from Brian’s shoulder and tucked it under his head, taking in the sight of the ceiling for a moment before he said: ‘I’ll miss him when I’ll have to leave. You know, despite all the drama with his addiction and his vulgar comments and his annoying- annoying everything, I’ll still miss him. And Freddie, of course. I’ll miss him and his stupid enthusiasm about everything.’

Brian smiled at John’s way of appreciating their roommates, who overtime had become so much more than that. ‘I know. I’ll miss them too if I do get to leave. We’ve become such a team overtime.’

‘I never would have thought so before you got here,’ John admitted. ‘When I’d been assigned to a room with Freddie and Roger about a year ago, I thought I’d lose my mind. They were so… loud and intense and dramatic. I didn’t talk to my psychiatrist for a week when he refused to have me switch to another room. But I got used to them, and then you came around… And it just fit. You brought balance between all of us. You’re like… I don’t know. Some kind of glue that stuck us together.’

‘You’re so sweet,’ Brian smiled. ‘I’m sure Freddie and Roger will miss you just as much. I already overheard their plans of jumping on you for the longest hug you’ve ever had in your life on the day you leave here.’

John, contrary to what Brian had expected, did not pull a face but smiled back at him. ‘And you’re just letting them have that record?’

‘You know you can tell me if you need a cuddle,’ said Brian as he dragged himself up from his own bed in order to join John on his.

‘I can’t. Too antisocial to ask for physical intimacy,’ John said, although he did stretch out his arms to invite Brian into his bed and, more importantly, into his embrace. 

‘Physical intimacy, you say?’ Brian wiggled his eyebrows at John.  

‘This sort of thing is the reason why I’m antisocial in the first place,’ John sighed, but he leaned into the touch of his boyfriend anyway.

‘But you’ve made great progress,’ Brian remarked, tucking a loose strand of John’s hair behind his ear. ‘You talk during group therapy sessions, you go out and have fun with us and even with other people sometimes, like that time in the gym. You’re even allowed to leave because you’re doing so much better socially.’

‘Forced to, more like,’ John muttered. ‘I don’t want to leave.’

Brian, who felt like this might be a gateway to talking about John’s emotions concerning leaving Queen Mary’s in more depth, asked: ‘Even not if I go with you?’ 

‘That’s better, of course, a lot better. But I’m still - afraid. You know, what if I’m just a burden to your parents? What if they send me away just like… like everyone else?’

This was something Brian heard for the first time, and something that caught him by surprise, even though perhaps it shouldn’t have. John had seemed relieved when Brian had told him that they could live with his parents when they would first be dismissed from Queen Mary’s, but every place he’d ever lived had eventually kicked him out - his family home, his aunt and uncle’s place, and now Queen Mary’s. His fear of being expulsed again was reasonable, but Brian wished to tackle it. ‘What? They’d never send you away, honey. Trust me, they’re not that kind of people.’

‘But what if they don’t like me?’ John asked.

‘Why would they dislike you? You’re sweet and quiet and respectful. My parents will adore-’

‘Because I’m the reason you’re leaving prematurely,’ John burst in. ‘I’m the one who- you know, took away your chance at healing if all of this goes through.’

Oh, Lord. That was an aspect Brian hadn’t considered yet, but when John mentioned it, it hit him like a brick. Of course John worried about the effect he’d have on Brian now that his partner was trying to leave Queen Mary’s for his sake, and of course he worried about what Brian’s parents would think of him if this was to be one of his first impression on them. It explained John’s recent quietness and reticence, and Brian could hit himself in the face for not having seen it earlier.

‘Oh darling, is that why you’ve been so quiet about my reassessment?’

‘Maybe,’ John shrugged. ‘I just feel guilty.’

Brian, cuddling closer up to John said: ‘Never feel guilty. I never could have healed at this place of - of what exactly? Of staff members getting bitten in their arms when they try to break up a fight? Of dismantled coffee machines because the risk of people throwing hot coffee in each other’s faces is too high? Of secret isolation cells in the basement for if staff can’t handle the patients anymore and is not allowed to call the police out of management’s fear for inspection?’ Brian summed up. ‘I never could have healed here, John, and neither can you. This place is in the best interest of neither of us.’

‘I know,’ John gritted. ‘But that’s the thing - I want what’s best for you. And I’m not always sure that that’s me. Especially now that you’re about to be set free from Queen Mary’s, I’ve been wondering if I- if I should also set you free,’ John said with a sniff that Brian had a feeling preluded tears. It broke his heart seeing his partner like this, hearing how he felt about the influence he had on Brian, and his brain was working overtime trying to figure out something to say to show him that he had it all wrong - that being with him had made Brian feel infinitely better, and that he was the best thing that had ever happened to him, especially while here at Queen Mary’s. 

‘John- John, listen, honey. You are what’s best for me. I could never have imagined having come this far again, to the extent where I’m able to see that life is out there, and that I want to go back to it again. That’s all thanks to you,’ Brian said, cupping John’s face in his hands when his partner tried to shy away from his eyes. ‘Not because of Sarah’s endless chatter or Jasper’s enthusiastic but bloody annoying ‘thought schemes’ or whatever he calls them, but because of you. If it wasn’t for you, I would have stayed here, biding my time, waiting until they would either admit me back to my parent’s place again, or would ship me off to a long stay clinic. It’s thanks to you that I want to leave this place, go back to school, be back in touch with my friends and family, make a life again, together with you. Because you’re the one who showed me love again,’ Brian whispered, and he could swear he could see the tears in John’s eyes by now - and if those had just been an illusion, they were definitely there when he added: ‘I never thought I’d experience love again until I found you.’

‘Fuck, Brian,’ John choked out, using the back of his sleeve to wipe away his tears. ‘You can’t just… make speeches like that on a regular afternoon and expect me to be okay.’

‘It’s okay to cry. It shows that you care.’

‘I know. I just still have to get used to like… emotions and stuff,’ John said. ‘Fuck, this is unbelievable. They really think they can put me back and have me be a functional member of society? This place honestly doesn’t know what they’re doing,’ he said, desperately trying to wipe out another line of tears, but the smile that shone through underneath told Brian that he was happy despite it all. 

‘Maybe they don’t, but we do,’ Brian said. ‘We’ll go out there, sort ourselves out, get a nice studio apartment, buy some cheap pots and pans and floral furniture you wouldn’t want to be found dead on at a second-hand store, go back to school or work or whatever we want to do. We’ll visit Freddie and Roger until they’ll be let go of. We’ll play music until the neighbours knock on the walls, and drink lukewarm tea from a dysfunctional hand-me-down kettle that already seemed too good to be true.’ John’s smile grew a little wider, and Brian added: ‘And we’ll have one of those weird spider plants that grow all over the place if you don’t watch it. We’ll adopt a scrawny old cat that sleeps in our bed and hangs in the curtains at least twice a week. Your turn.’ 

John blinked for a bit. ‘Oh, eh… Well, I’ll ruin at least three shirts because I can’t iron for the life of me. We’ll have instruments and strings and guitar picks all over the place.’

‘We’ll have to accept ugly knitted pillow cases and crocheted tablecloths from our mums, which we’ll only bring out when they come around to visit,’ Brian followed up.

‘We’ll have an old radio or TV which keeps buzzing regardless of how well you tune it, and we’ll hit the screen with a rolled-up newspaper if we’re frustrated, as if that will make things better.’

‘We’ll have joined showers because there’ll be too little hot water for the both of us to shower separately. And I only want biscuit tins that actually contain biscuits in the house. No needlework or lightbulbs or clothing pins or the like.’

John, who by now seemed to get the hang of the game, said: ‘We’ll spend all of our excess money on records, and hang sleeves up on the wall as decoration.’

‘We’ll dump out that dumb kettle and buy a decent one, and we’ll try out weird tea flavours all day. Pineapple tea, cotton candy, or tomato-broccoli flavour or so.’

John pulled a face. ‘And I’d dump it right into the plant pots when you’re not looking. That might make those weird spider plants stop growing.’

Brian snorted. ‘And then I’d buy a cactus, and we’ll be known as the first couple ever to manage to kill a cactus. I also want a bed with at least twenty pillows and five different sorts of blankets and duvets on it so we can roll around all night. All as mismatched as possible - really kitschy.’

‘We’ll play guitar in bed until late, until I fall asleep with my bass pics still in hand. And when we wake up in the morning you’ll make your nasty tea and I’ll put on a record on the record player next to the bed so we can stay in late and listen to the Beatles, and we’ll be happy.’

Those last words were the most meaningful Brian had heard John say concerning their upcoming freedom - whether Brian would be released at the end of this reassessment trial or whether he would have to sit out his time at Queen Mary’s until the end, they would stay together, and they would be happy. They’d overcome the turbulence of their youth, the problems of the past, the battles with themselves - they’d be together, united, and they’d be happy together. They’d have each other even if the world around them would crumble, and catch each other if they would fall.

Brian tightened his arms around John’s torso, and pulled him in for a chaste but meaningful kiss on the lips.

‘And we’ll be happy.’

# # # 

Unfortunately for the pair of them, John’s new-found positive outlook on Brian’s reassessment and leaving Queen Mary’s behind did not last long. A mere few hours after Brian and he had signed paperwork and reunited with Freddie and Roger for a game of mensch-ärgere-dich-nicht, a bomb threat from an anonymous culprit - most likely to be an ex-patient or relative to a patient of Queen Mary’s - destroyed whatever had been left of the atmosphere as the entire populace was escorted into the basement while police flocked around the building. Nothing was found, but the threat and the stress of hours spent in suspense waiting for the police report had put a permanent strain on all four of the members of Room 41, and none of them slept well during the night that followed. The usual drill of incident-filled mealtimes and hostility in the hallways and activity rooms took their toll on John, who was further discouraged from the forced acquittal process through another string of meetings with counsellors who tried arranging help he didn’t want and resources he didn’t need. 

Brian tried to keep John somewhat upbeat by reminding him of the upcoming visit of his parents, which he hoped John would see as a safe haven to stay after Queen Mary’s, but it seemed to have the polar opposite effect on John. Instead of taking comfort in the fact that there would be a family waiting to take him in when he would be released, the mere idea of moving in with people he did not know and living at their expense seemed to freak John out, and no amount of reassurance from Brian that his parents would not mind and would love to take him in could convince him otherwise - to the point where on the day of the scheduled meeting, John hardly dared to come out of his bed.

‘Come on, lovie,’ said Brian, who had seated himself on the bed next to John. His partner, currently lying on his stomach with his face buried in a pillow, tried hard to ignore him. ‘Nolan will be here in a few minutes. You have to get up.’

‘Don’t wanna,’ John murmured into his pillow. 

‘I know, but you’re going to do great.’ When John ignored this comment, Brian sighed, running a hand over John’s back. ‘What are you most afraid of?’

John huffed. ‘Everything.’

Well, that was not exactly a conclusive answer, but Brian knew what he meant. John feared meeting his parents, their reaction to him, the paperwork they’d have to sign, and most of all, the finality of his time at Queen Mary’s the meeting would signify. They would talk of plans for the future and questions would be asked regarding his background, his mental situation, his ideas for the upcoming years - the mere idea of which Brian knew freaked John out. Still, he remained hopeful that he could convince his boyfriend to get up, brave his fears, and go out there; it was important that John would get to see his parents at least once before permanently moving in with them, regardless of whether Brian would be joining him right away or not. Especially if Brian’s request of reassessment would be denied it would be important that John at least knew who his parents were, given that he’d then go to live with them without having Brian there to be his rock in an otherwise unknown environment. 

‘You shouldn’t be. My parents won’t think anything negative about you, believe me.’

‘I’m sure they’re thrilled to find that their only son came home with a suicidal college dropout who was disowned by his own family,’ John said, and Brian felt his heart sink in. He hated having to hear his partner talk about himself in this manner, and was determined to make him feel more secure about himself - especially in the light of the upcoming visit.

‘Everyone in here is a dropout of some sort. Does that mean we’re all failures? Does that mean Roger, Freddie, and I are failures?’ Brian knew it was a bit cruel to put John on the spot like this, but his words seemed to have some effect on his partner.

‘Of course you’re not. You have plans to go back to school and make something of your life.’

‘And you don’t?’ Brian asked him. ‘You don’t want to go back to college at some point in time?’

John shrugged. ‘I guess.’

Knowing that this was likely to be the most he was going to get out of John at this point in time, Brian said: ‘You will. We’re going to get out of here, take some time to readjust, go back to school, find ourselves an apartment. I’ll finish my degree and you’ll finish yours, or find a job you enjoy, or- or whatever makes you happy. I’ll support you regardless of what you choose to do.’

John now turned around to lie on his back and looked at him, and it looked like he wanted to say something - a word of thanks, or an affirmation that he’d do the same for Brian - but he ended up just looking at Brian until his gaze was eventually pulled away from his boyfriend when a knock on the door distracted his attention.

‘I’ll go get it, dears,’ said Freddie as he bounced off the bed with a bit too much enthusiasm for his emaciated body, but he nevertheless made it to the door without too much visible trouble. The door was opened and Freddie enthusiastically exclaimed that Nolan had arrived (a useless statement really, given that no one else but their mentor would ever approach their ‘stink cave,’ as Roger had taken to calling their room as of late) but neither of his friends reacted to the announcement. They just sat there, each on their own side of the bed, looking at each other; Brian with a glimpse of hope and John with a look of desolation on his face. Brian knew John would have given it all he owned to be able to skip this meeting, which gave Brian all the more reason to try his best and pick his boyfriend up from the depth of the mental rabbit hole he had dug himself into.

‘Come, let’s get up. Nolan is waiting for us,’ Brian said. He deliberately let out the fact that his parents must be waiting on them, too - the mere mentioning of the presence of his mum and dad was enough to make John slide back into desolation. Brian had never seen anyone as anxious about a meeting as John was at that given moment, and he was running out of things to say to comfort him.

‘Baby, you know you won’t be alone there. I’ll be with you the entire time, and so is Nolan,’ Brian said. John didn’t react. ‘Do you need anyone else there? Maybe Freddie or Roger…?’ he said with a hesitant look towards the other side of the room, but he was luckily met with smiles and nods.

‘Of course!’ Roger said, the overly enthusiastic tone of his reply quickly explained when he added: ‘I’ll have to miss my counselling for once, but I don’t think that will matter too much.’

‘No, I’m fine. Just Brian and Nolan will do,’ John said, much to the relief of everyone apart from the proposer himself.

‘Well, Nolan and I are ready whenever you are,’ Brian told him, then corrected himself when he realised the vast liberty this statement would grant his partner to stay in their room for the remainder of the day. ‘Nolan and I are ready, and we’d like to go. There’s a lot to discuss and they’ve planned an hour for this meeting,’ he said, careful to address the discussion of future plans with his parents as neutral as possible.

‘Hm-hmm,’ John hummed as a form of answer, but his eyes were empty, and he made no movements that indicated he was planning on getting up from the bed anywhere soon. Brian thus took matters into his own hands and stood up from the bed, taking a few steps to the left so he could stand in front of John.

‘Come on, honey. Time to go. We have to take care of this sooner or later.’ Brian reached out a hand towards his partner to help him get up from the bed, but John merely stared at it. Brian heard the soft murmur of Freddie’s and Nolan’s voices behind him, and he sighed deeply before crouching down to John’s level.

‘Listen, darling. I know you’re not very comfortable about meeting my parents and talking about what to do when you have to leave Queen Mary’s, but you’re only making it harder on yourself by not cooperating. You’ll have to leave in about three weeks, and we can’t change that. The best thing we can do is arrange something so we can stay together and support each other.’

John blinked, then finally spoke. ‘But what if you won’t be allowed to leave?’ 

‘Then I want to make sure you’ll be in the best place possible until I’ll be dismissed. And that place is going to be at my parents’ house. Please, John, give this a chance. I know you’re nervous, and you don’t want things to change, but things will change, and we’re gonna have to deal with that in the best way possible.’ Brian’s voice was a bit more insistent than he would have liked for it to be, but it at last seemed to have an effect on John.

‘Promise me you won’t leave me alone in there,’ John whispered - pleaded, nearly.

‘I promise. You just have to say the word to let me know you’re no comfortable. And you don’t have to answer any questions you don’t want to answer, in case anyone might ask them,’ Brian vowed. ‘Come with me?’ he asked. He stretched his hand towards John again, and this time John took it.

John was still visibly nervous - the smile he gave Nolan when they came face to face with him in the hallway looked tensed rather than sincere, and he kept his head down as they walked through the hallways, past the canteen and the staff rooms and into the corridor leading to the visiting area. Brian had only been to the place a few times before, but he remained uneasy each time a guard opened the multiple barred doors they crossed on their way. 

‘Your parents have already arrived, I’ve been told,’ Nolan said to Brian. ‘They’ve also signed the paperwork in which they vow to take in John and you, or just John in case of- well, in that case,’ Nolan cut himself off when Brian shot him a look. Brian was glad that his mentor understood the hint - right as John was heading for the meeting he’d been dreading since the very moment it had been planned was not exactly the right moment to bring up all that could still go wrong in Brian’s process. The string of meetings with Professor Fisher, the independent psychiatrists who had been assigned to supervise the case and oversee Brian’s ability to return to society, had gone well, and the professor had given his blessing to Brian’s appeal. It had been a victory for Brian and all those around him - apart from John. Every time an obstacle was removed from Brian’s path towards accelerated freedom, all John seemed to be able to see were the new mountains showing up on the way. 

To some extent, John had a point. Even though he had managed to push his appeal for freedom past the internal staff of Queen Mary’s and an outsider in the form of a psychiatrist, Brian had no guarantees that the eventual jury he’d have to beat up to would grant him leave. Especially the presence of his former psychiatrist Doctor Sumner did not sit comfortably with him, but he refused to let this prospect weigh him down; he had a task in front of him, and he was going to give it all he could. Nothing, not John’s negativity nor his own nerves, and most of all not Doctor Sumner’s preening eyes and tight-lipped smile were going to hold him back.

Nolan babbled on about the contact he’d had with Brian’s parents over the phone - something Brian had been unaware of, and something he did not know whether to appreciate or to be wary of - but it was only when they reached the last door that separated the three of them from his parents that Brian really felt his attention resurfacing to the presence. The guard who had walked them all the way over searched their pockets for forbidden items and had a small fit over the shaving cream bottle cap Brian had forgotten he’d put in his back pocket that morning for no particular reason other than not knowing where to leave it as he was shaving. Nolan managed to convince the guy that it was nothing, so the item was confiscated and they were given leave to enter the heavy iron door.

‘Alright, folks. Are you ready?’ Nolan asked with his usual upbeat expression on his face as he stepped over the threshold of the door. Brian was ready to do the same, but one look at John was all he needed to know that John needed a few more words of encouragement.

‘One second, Nole,’ Brian said, not realising he just called his mentor by the nickname Freddie sometimes used to refer to him in private. He stepped into the direction of John, who was still standing next to the guard - and who slipped back a few steps when Brian approached him.

‘John…’ Brian said quietly.

‘I- I can’t do this,’ John told him. ‘I need more time. I can’t do this now.’

‘But there isn’t more time,’ Brian said. Then, stepping close quickly enough to make it impossible for John to back away from him any further, he placed his hands on either of his boyfriend’s shoulders and said: ‘Listen, John. I wish I could give you all the time in the world, but we don’t have that luxury. We have to step up now to make the best out of the situation; we’ll regret it if we let Queen Mary’s rehabilitation services figure out our future for us,’ Brian said. ‘And I know you think you’re expected to go out there and put on your brightest smile and act like the perfect foster child or whatever for my parents to take you into their house, but you don’t. You don’t have to live up to any expectations. You don’t have to be perfectly sociable and nice - it’s not a competition where the winner takes it all and the loser is left behind. There is no losing here, you see?’ Brian took a second to take a break from his monologue, but picked it up again before John could disagree with him. ‘You’re going to get out of his Godawful place and move into a home where people will care for you, regardless of whether I’ll be released right away or a few months later. My parents already signed the papers and they promised to take you in and take care of you for as long as needed. And you don’t have to worry about them liking you or not, because they will.’

John had remained perfectly blank throughout the soliloquy, but he snorted at those last words. ‘They won’t. I’m a disappointment.’

‘You’re perfect and they’re gonna love you. You’re smart and funny and polite - if you choose to be so - and perfect company. My parents have always wanted to have a second child, and getting one at the age of twenty doesn’t mean they’ll be any less enthusiastic,’ Brian said with a little smile, and he could see that John’s face copied his despite his lover trying to look away from him. ‘And as for you… You could do with a family after all these years. A real family.’

At the mentioning of these words, John turned his face away from him even further, but this did not prevent Brian from seeing that tears were brimming his eyes. The idea of having a family, a house to come home to every night, a space where he did not have to feel like an outsider, a burden, an unwanted alien - Brian could tell that it touched John, and he knew that this was the right moment to usher him through the door before either of them could think better of it.

‘Come on. Let’s go in,’ Brian whispered with a soft yet steady hand on the small of John’s back. He heard John smother a sob and saw him wipe the back of his hand across his eyes, but once this had been taken care of, he allowed Brian to gently usher him towards the door through which Nolan had just disappeared. John halted for a second when they neared the threshold - his hand seemed to be seeking Brian’s, and the guitarist placed his hand on John’s and squeezed it shortly. 

‘I’m right here with you.’

‘I know,’ John whispered. With that, he stepped over the threshold; Brian followed him, and then the guard closed the iron door behind them, leaving no way back until the end of the meeting. It was a thought that Brian knew should freak John out, but personally he was rather relieved to know that there was no other way for John than to follow him to his parents.

The meeting room seemed a lot larger than the last time to Brian - which was probably at least partially to blame to the fact that it had been filled with patients and their family members and at least a handful of guards and other supervisors the few times he’d visited so far. This time, however, his eyes darted around the room without seeing more than a single guard flicking through a leaflet in the corner of the room. There was one single occupied table at the other end of the room, towards which Nolan was currently making his way. He could make out the figures of his parents, who were standing up from their chairs as the stranger approached them. He could see his mum shove her handbag into her husband’s hands as the mentor reached a hand towards her.

‘Good morning, folks!’ Brian could hear Nolan say with a perfect mixture of politeness and informality. ‘I’m Nolan Ferrier - we’ve spoken on the phone.’ Brian watched as first his mother’s and then his father’s hand was pulled into a strong handshake from Nolan’s side. They seemed to share a few more quiet words, and Brian suddenly realised that Jon and he had not moved on any further than perhaps three feet away from the door. 

‘Come, let’s go over there. I’ll go first.’ Without awaiting John’s reply as to avoid giving him the opportunity to protest, Brian walked past the first row of empty tables. He heard the sound of John’s shoes clicking on the floor behind him confirming that his partner was following him. He then changed his walking pace to a more rapid one - he did not want to waste any time that could be used for coming to agreements for when either John came to live with them, either on his own or with him straight away.

The second his parents caught sight of him, the polite discussion of some sort they had been following with Nolan was wrapped up; hands were detached and excuses were made, and they turned to walk into his direction. He could hear his mother call his name - first softly, then louder - and his smile brightened. He hadn’t seen his parents since the last family visit, which had been at least three weeks ago at least. Their enthusiasm for seeing him, however, never seemed to subside; they were as happy and emotional as they came to him now as they had been the very first time they’d been granted entrance into the visiting room of Queen Mary’s to come see their son. Brian could already hear his mother’s first sobs before they had even gotten towards each other, although it was only a second or so later that they met in the middle. Brian was caught in the surprisingly strong grip of his mother’s arms, followed by those of his father. Being embraced by his parents always felt so secure, so safe - it was like coming home regardless of how far away he was from his paternal house.

‘Oh, Brian, my love! How are you?’ The voice of his mother was high and shrill so close to his ear, but it did not seem to Brian that this was an appropriate moment to say something about it.

‘I’m fine, mum. You know you don’t have to worry about me,’ he mumbled against the shoulder of his father. This time there were no guards telling them to break up and sit down - just the three of them getting a moment to express their love for each other through touch rather than through words. Not that that stopped Brian’s mother from blabbering on, though…

‘But you know I do,’ his mother sighed. ‘A reassessment! I didn’t even know what it was! Or that it was possible! And that you were already working on it-‘

‘Don’t wind yourself up too much, dear,’ Harold interrupted the stream of words flowing from his wife’s mouth. ‘Mister Ferrier will tell us all about it in a moment, I’m sure.’

Brian opened his eyes at the mentioning of his mentor, whom he had completely ignored since the moment he had met eyes with his parents. Much to his relief he saw Nolan smiling at him lazily, but the same, he assumed, could not be said about John. His boyfriend, who remained standing a few feet behind him, could hardly be comfortable around the family scene he was currently witnessing. Brian thus pulled himself away from the arms of his parents, and took a step back to line up next to the person he’d momentarily neglected.

‘Mum, Dad, this is John, my friend and roommate.’ Brian felt himself beam with pride as he introduced the boy around whom he’d centred his life for the past few months, and his parents seemed equally eager to meet him and exchange some words with the person their son had been unable to shut up about lately.

‘Oh, John! How good to finally meet you!’ his mother all but cooed, extending a hand towards him. ‘I’m Ruth May - Brian’s mother.’ John followed her example and shook hands with her and introduced himself somewhat awkwardly.

‘Er, it’s great to see you too. I’m John Deacon.’ He forced a small smile and withdrew his hand as quickly as possible; Brian hoped his mum would take no offence. He had told them during their last phone call that John was incredibly nervous - and that his antisocial personality disorder meant that he was not one to enjoy himself in social situations - so that they should be a bit lenient on him. Knowing his parents, they would behave just so; but Brian did feel that a lot of questions concerning John would be coming up as soon as his boyfriend would be out of their sight, especially when his father took his turn to introduce himself.

‘John, I’m Harold May,’ Brian’s father told him as he took John’s hand in his own. ‘We’ve heard a lot about you.’

Brian saw the smile wash off John’s face. ‘Is that an, uh, good or a bad sign?’ he asked with a renewed fake smile and a hint of humour, but Brian knew that it was really the joke which John tried to play it off yet. His mother laughed her typical, high-pitched laugh, and said she loved his humour, and his father was chuckling still when he disclaimed it had been a pretty good picture that had been painted of him by their son. Neither of this worked, though - and it was only when Brian put an arm around him that his tensed body relaxed a little.

‘A good sign, Deaky. Do you think I’d tell them bad stories about you? Do you think I even have bad stories to tell about you?’

John looked at him thoroughly at first, as if he was deciding whether Brian was playing with him or not, but eventually the slightest of a smile broke through. The somewhat awkward silence, however, by then had already prompted Nolan to speak up.

‘Shall we sit down and go over the arrangements? We’ve got quite a bit to discuss.’

John seemed to be most enthusiastic about following Nolan’s proposal. He agreed whole-heartedly and paced towards the table on which Brian’s parents had been sitting before. Nolan, who - as usual - seemed to sense exactly what he was feeling, made sure to sit next to him on the one side, and made Brian sit down on the other. Harold and Ruth sat across from them and waited for Nolan to bring out the papers he’d brought with him in a dark red folder with Brian’s name and patient number printed on the front. Brian saw John getting fidgety with the hem of his shirt while Nolan looked for the right papers, and placed a hand on John’s leg underneath the table.

‘Alright,’ Nolan eventually declared when he’d found the papers he had been looking for, and closed the folder to put it aside. ‘What we’re here for today is to go over the agreements which have been made for John’s rehabilitation into society, and that of Brian in case that his reassessment will be approved. I’m first just going to go through some formalities,’ Nolan announced. ‘Is it correct that you are Harold and Ruth May, parents of Brian May?’

‘Correct,’ Harold said.

‘So far so good,’ Nolan smiled. ‘And you were the ones who applied for your son to be admitted into Queen Mary’s Psychiatric Hospital, together with his psychiatrist Doctor L. J. Sumner?’ Brian felt his stomach turn at the mere mention of the name of his previous psychiatrist, but he buckled up for the sake of everyone around him. His father once again confirmed, together with the date on which they had filled out the application and the date of approval.

‘Then, according to this file right here…’ Nolan’s voice trailed down near the end of the sentence as he searched for the right paper. ‘Ah, here. According to this, you handed Brian over to the care of Queen Mary’s on March fifteen, nineteen seventy-one, by bringing him over and seeing to it that he was taken in.’

‘Yes. Wasn’t it you that took him in?’ Ruth asked. Nolan nodded with a small smile.

‘It was. It’s just that the protocol tells me to have you confirm all these details - because, as the next point tells me, you volunteered and were approved to take Brian back under your roof and carry parental responsibility for his well-being and further recovery when he would be released from Queen Mary’s?’

‘We are. And we still stand by that,’ said Harold, which preceded the next question Nolan was to read out loud. They were reminded of what it meant to be the guardians of Brian in a mental health context, and of which people to inform and turn to in case things went downhill again. That, if Brian had a fallback, he could be reported and taken back into Queen Mary’s, but that this would first need investigation, and could not happen overnight. This point seemed to make his mother more than just a little nervous - but, upon Brian ensuring her that chances of this happening were small, and Nolan telling her that help would always be available in case of acute danger, she eventually agreed. A few more such questions were answered and considered before Nolan placed down the papers and started looking for another set.

‘Now, as we all know, these arrangements will be critical in case Brian gets released after his reassessment trial. We cannot guarantee when or if that will happen, but what we do know is that John will be released in three weeks,’ Nolan said, and Brian saw John’s jaw clenching. The soothing hand stroking John’s leg seemed to be able to do little to soothe him when Nolan spoke on. ‘John Richard Deacon, taken in on September three, nineteen sixty-nine at age eighteen, after his foster guardians Alec Baldwin and Molly Baldwin-Forester signed him up to be taken into Queen Mary’s when they could no longer deal with his mental problems.’

‘Foster guardians?’ Ruth sounded surprised, if not a little afraid. Nolan looked at John as to find out whether he was allowed to tell them what happened, or if he should tell them that John would tell them later. Brian remembered having told his parents at one point during this past week’s phone calls and conversations that John could not return to the aunt and uncle with whom he had lived before being taken into Queen Mary’s, but he was afraid that his mother at the moment failed to see that the foster guardians which Nolan referred to were nothing more than John’s aunt and uncle. He knew the official documents referred to them as his foster guardians, but he understood how different, how dramatic this sounded - as if John had been a problematic child who had gone through multiple sets of foster parents over the years, the last pair of which had sent him away to a mental institution. It was far from the truth, but Brian could hardly blame his parents for getting an idea like this in their head.

To his utter surprise, John hardly blinked when he offered an explanation to Brian’s parents. ‘I was taken in by my aunt and uncle after my mum could no longer combine the care of my disabled sister with taking care of me,’ he said, which Brian had to admit was not a lie - just a very polished version of what he had actually gone through with his entire family locking him out. Brian could not blame him, though, for John only telling part of the truth to his parents. He doubted he would have been able to disclose more about his terrific past to a pair of strangers upon first meeting them - especially in John’s current state of being.

‘Disabled sister-’ Brian heard his father mumble, but he effectively managed to shut him up by giving the man, who was sitting across from him at the table, a light kick against the shin. His father’s face retorted, but he did not protest; he seemed to understand that this was not the right time or place to discuss the ins and outs of John’s life. Besides, Brian had clearly instructed them not to pry into John’s personal business; he would tell them what he wanted them to know as soon as he felt comfortable around them.

Nolan, like the hero he was, continued his story. ‘Alec and Molly Baldwin thus handed John over to the care of Queen Mary’s, but while our staff has reached out to them to tell them their nephew will soon be released and to ask them if they are willing to take him in again, they have declined their responsibility, and do not wish to be involved in backing John up in his rehabilitation process whatsoever, as they stated in a formal letter we received the other day.’ A light brown envelope was brought up and put in the middle of the table. Four pairs of eyes stared at it, but no one seemed to dare make a move or say a word. ‘John’s mother has also been informed, but she- she declared herself to be unfit of taking care of John again, referring to- her daily task of taking care of-’

‘Of my sister, yes. I expected so,’ John finished the sentence of Nolan, of whom both Brian and he was currently making up a more socially acceptable answer to refuse to take in a son again than what she really had told the staff upon being contacted. Brian wondered if she had yelled, if she had cursed her son, if she had laughed viciously and asked if they were out of their mind to ask her to take back the person who she deemed the one to have ruined her life. Brian guessed he would never know, and perhaps it was better like that - especially if John would also be spared from the probably /scalding/ reply his mother had made to the request.

‘Your sister, yes. Your mother sees herself currently unfit to combine, eh, her care with that of you,’ Nolan said. ‘Other family members we unfortunately could not reach. So that…’ he stressed while looking at the couple sitting across from him, ‘is where the pair of you come in’. 

Silence for a moment while Ruth and Harold looked at each other. Brian could see the doubt and uncertainty in their eyes. He realised he had sort of convinced them overnight to have both him and his secret boyfriend come back to live under the same roof as them over the past few days; after all, there had not been more than about a week between the first moment he had rung them to tell them about his plans of getting a reassessment, and this meeting which had been scheduled last-minute as his psychiatrist had approved him for the first round of his trial. He knew his parents were hesitant people in general, and the fact that they both did not know John and that they realised he suffered from mental problems wasn’t making it easy on them. Learning now that he came from a troubled family background also wasn’t making matters any less complicated for his parents, but Brian refused to let their fear of the unknown ruin his opportunity to escape Queen Mary’s with John - and, much more importantly, John’s chances of a stable future to make up for all the pain he had gone through in the past decade. 

‘Yes. Mum and Dad are willing to take in both John and me when we are released,’ Brian said in what he liked to consider a helping hand, but which his parents obviously had a different opinion about. 

‘We- yes. We are certainly willing,’ his father said, straightening his tie. ‘But, er, there are certain… uncertainties that will need to be clarified first.’

‘Of course,’ Nolan said in the most understanding of tones. ‘Of course. We have come to understand that, as far as we have been informed, you have no experience with caring for foster children - foster patients, in this case,’ Nolan said. Brian hated the word foster patient already. 

‘Exactly.’ Ruth shook her head vehemently, glad that Nolan understood they had reservations about the case now that everything was starting to get so real so quickly. ‘We have no prior experience with taking people in, and especially not young people.’

‘You’ve dealt with me for twenty-four years,’ Brian reminded them, but this unfortunately was not what they meant.

‘Of course it feels strange to let someone into your house at first - especially when it is someone you are not related to,’ Nolan admitted. ‘But experience leans that guardians and subjects, as they are commonly referred to, usually get into a good flow quickly, and can grow tight bonds.’

‘I see,’ Ruth said, obviously still doubting. Brian chewed on the inside of his cheek. 

‘You do not have to worry about finances either - as John is under twenty-one, one can appeal to the state for subvention. After he turns twenty-one, you can still get subvention for taking care of someone with mental health issues. We can help you fill out the application,’ Nolan said in what seemed like another attempt to convince Harold and Ruth not to come back on their promise to take John in. Brian appreciated it, but unfortunately his parents did not take the bait. 

‘Oh, the finances I’m not too worried about. But is there any sort of - aftercare after Queen Mary’s?’ Ruth asked. ‘To make sure John won’t… slip back into old habits?’ Brian was not entirely pleased about his mother using the word habits when referring to John’s depression and anti-social spells, but he was given no time to protest.

‘Naturally,’ Nolan assured her. ‘Queen Mary’s has an extensive programme, which consists of weekly meetups with either a patient’s psychiatrist before coming here, during their stay, or one that specifically works in our aftercare programme. Furthermore every ex-patient will also enroll in a programme to help them either find a job or go back to school, and help them build up their future.’

‘I would love to go back to college,’ John broke in shyly but confidently. ‘I want to finish my studies. I used to do electrical engineering at Chelsea College in London. It’s a- uh, College of Advanced Technology. Known as one of the best around the country,’ John said in what sounded to Brian like a helpless plead to make himself desirable to his parents. Brian felt a knot form in his stomach by merely listening to it - it was disheartening that his parents were being so distant and doubtful all of a sudden, especially right in John’s face. John, the person he loved with all his heart; the person who deserved the world and more, especially after continuously having been held down from it. The person for whom Brian hoped for a good ending to this entire mental health drama more than he did for himself or anyone else in the world. Seeing him being denied by his parents was one of the most painful things he had ever witnessed, and he had gone through quite some disheartening situations at Queen Mary’s.

Harold, either not seeing or ignoring his son’s deadly glares, nodded slowly. ‘Electrical engineering. A fine subject. You’ll never be out of work with a solid degree like that.’

‘Absolutely,’ Nolan agreed. ‘It will give him something to focus on - make sure he keeps himself busy. Studies show that people recovering from mental illness are three times more successful when they have a job or studies to focus on.’

‘I can also find a weekend job on top of that,’ John offered. ‘So you won’t have me hanging around the house, you know.’

‘Oh, that is not- not at all what we’re worried about, John,’ Harold said. Then, clearing his throat, he finally said the thing Brian had been fearing for the entire meeting. Putting his hand on that of his wife’s, he brought up to Nolan: ‘An issue I feel that my wife and I are currently facing, is that we are not… we are not mental health experts. We were not trained to deal with depression, and borderline, and-‘ he paused for a second as he looked at John, and eventually concluded his sentence with the words: -‘similar issues.’

‘Dad!’ Brian hissed at him, but this only made matters worse.

‘Your father is right, dear,’ his mother intervened. ‘We do not know how to deal with mental health issues. We don’t know John and his… his mental situation, or how to deal with it. You know what happened when you were at your worst…’

‘But he’s not at his worst anymore, and neither am I. John is being released because he’s doing so well,’ Brian said - which was not entirely the truth, but which he decided his parents did not need to know that it was either being let go of or getting locked up into long-stay facilities - ‘and I am the first person to qualify for a reassessment in years. Right, Nolan?’ Brian said, turning to his mentor sharply. ‘Right?’

‘Er, yes,’ Nolan said, clearly taken aback somewhat by Brian’s sudden fierceness. ‘You are the first in years to qualify, and John is doing well enough to leave Queen Mary’s.’ Again, this was only technically the truth, but Brian was grateful to his mentor for helping both John and Him. Nolan probably realised just as well as he did that this was the best chance John had to make a head start and not to end up in some shabby rehabilitation home and programme focussed on substance abusers and victims of domestic violence rather than on his antisocial personality disorder, and have his life spiral down even further than it had before. 

‘See? There will be no problem, Dad. I promise,’ Brian said with as much confidence he could muster. 

‘I am sure that John will behave well, and that chances of problems arising will be slim,’ his father tried to hush him. ‘But his - what was it, asocial personality?’

‘Antisocial personality disorder,’ Brian grumbled.

‘His antisocial personality - I fear it works just like your depression and borderline. Things can go well for a while, but when you had fallbacks, we could do absolutely nothing to help you. You were either unattainable, or overly emotional, or unreasonably angry and depressed - and that was just borderline, as to say so. What if John ends up in one of his antisocial spells? What are we supposed to do with that?’

‘You will be given guidance prior to taking John in, mister May,’ Nolan tried, but Brian was not as calm as his mentor was.

‘Then you leave him be! He’ll manage, and he’ll come back to himself in due time! Being antisocial in essence just means having moments of not wanting to interact with anyone and wanting to be left alone - a whole lot easier than dealing with my troubles, let me tell you.’

‘Brian…’ John called his name carefully. 

‘We understand, dear,’ Ruth said. ‘But we know you - we know what to expect of you.’

‘Yes, you knew what to expect,’ Brian said dryly. ‘That’s why you sent me away to Queen Mary’s, right? Because you knew exactly how to handle me.’

‘Brian.’ His name was called again, but this time in a more threatening fashion, coming from his father. ‘You’re our child - we’ve known you all your life. We do not know John, do not know his illness, his family, his background, his life story…’ 

‘So that’s a reason not to take him in and help him? Because you can’t verify that his parents are a decent middle-class couple with a husband working nine-to-five-hours at a company of national importance, and a happy housewife who has dinner ready at precisely six o’clock each day?’

‘Of course not,’ Harold objected. ‘You’re being ridiculous now.’

‘No, you’re being ridiculous!’ Brian said. He could hear Nolan telling him not to talk to his parents like that, but could not move himself to care about what anyone thought of him telling his parents some home truths. ‘You promised to help John, to take him in and give him a chance! And if you care to know his background so much - John came from a perfectly fine family, including nine-to-five job holder and happy housewife, until his parents lost a son, his sister was left severely disabled after an accident, and within the same year, his father died. Are you happy now?’

Brian could hear John take in a sharp breath of air beside him, and somewhere deep inside, he felt bad for having told half of history so casually to his parents for the sake of making a case against their hesitation to take someone they didn’t know under their wing. However, his frustration and determination to fulfil John’s promise of letting him move in with his family and building a stable background where he would be loved, accepted, part of a larger community, left him unable o do much more than put his hand on John’s shoulder and staring at his parents with cold eyes.

Harold was the first to break the silence when he coughed and shifted in his chair. Turning to Nolan, he said: ‘Gentlemen, could you give us a moment? A word between my wife and me and our son?’

‘Most certainly,’ said Nolan, who seemed almost eager to remove himself and John from the battlefield the discussion had turned into. ‘John and I will be just around the door. Call us when you need us again - because, and I don’t want to put pressure on anyone, but the papers will have to be signed today. Both to strengthen Brian’s case for his reassessment, and for John - because if he cannot stay with your family, our staff will have to arrange a place for him in a communal home.’

Brian could feel John’s eyes turning to him, wild and panicky, and he had to count to three before allowing himself to look at John out of fear that he might either start crying or start yelling if he did so right away. He was hurt, frustrated, angry, humiliated, betrayed - all of those both on his own account but mostly on that of John, who he had promised that he’d be allowed to live with his family upon being released from Queen Mary’s. His parents had promised him so, after all. They had been inviting and understanding and tolerant when speaking of the matter mere days ago, but now that things were starting to get real, they seemed to be getting cold feet. It made Brian feel sick and disgusted - it made him feel ashamed of being their son. 

‘It’s okay,’ he gritted when he eventually gathered the self-control to calmly look John in the eyes. ‘I’ll fix this, I promise.’

The legs of Nolan’s chair scraped along the floor when he stood up. ‘You coming, John? I think the May family needs some time to discuss.’

John looked at Brian with a sense of desperation, but nodded stiffly and stood up also. Brian put his hand on John’s briefly in passing, but John did not look up; he simply followed Nolan towards the exit of the room, leaving Brian with a taste of bitterness in his mouth and the feeling of his cold, thin fingers on his own. 

Brian found himself curling the fingers of his right hand into a fist, and tensed them until the knuckles grew white and the back of his hand pale and veiny. He stared at it in a determined mission to avoid any sort of contact with his parents until the heavy iron door of the visiting hall fell shut behind John and Nolan. 

His father was the first to talk between the three of them. ‘Look, Brian, we understand that you’re angry, but we need some time to process everything we’ve been told today,’ Harold said. ‘It’s not nothing to take in someone new, and to be responsible for them and live with them under the same roof for the upcoming God knows how long.’ Brian knew his father was looking straight at him as he spoke, but he refused to look back or acknowledge his presence in any other way.

‘Besides, what do we know about his condition? What if his anti… antisocial behaviour comes up again when he lives with us? Or worse, perhaps, if his trauma comes up?’ Despite himself, Brian looked up to face his mother as she mentioned the word trauma. He immediately regretted it as it seemed to give her the idea that she had made a point she ought to elaborate. ‘Everything we heard today about his father’s death, his sister’s disability, living with his aunt and uncle until they sent him away… It’s a lot to carry. Both for him and for us.’

Brian leaned back in his chair when his mother had finished her part of the monologue. So that’s what they were afraid of - that John would bring his trauma, his troubles, his history, into their lives. That having to live with someone who’d gone through a rough childhood would be hard on them, and not on the person who actually had to pick up his life again after having taken such a terrible start to it. It hardly surprised Brian to hear that his parents, two painfully average lower-middle-class citizens leading a painfully average life in their painfully average semi-detached suburban three bedroom-house, were opposed to take someone in from a less fortunate background out of fear that it would inconvenience their perfectly shallow little lives. It was shallow and embarrassing, and Brian did not have the words to properly tell his parents what he thought about their attitude. 

‘So that’s what you want, then?’ he eventually ended up saying after having chewed the inside of his cheek raw. ‘To break your promise and have John be sent off to a bloody communal home? My best friend, with whom I’ve spent the past half a year here? An anxious twenty-year-old with a traumatic family background and the remains of a depression, living with a bunch of crackheads in a filthy communal home in East End London?’

‘We never promised-’ his father calmly intervened, but he was interrupted just as quickly as he had taken the floor. 

‘But you did!’ Brian said, voice louder now. ‘You said you’d take both of us in, or him first and then me if I wouldn’t be released after this fucking trial, and allow us to build up a life again until we could stand on our own two feet! You promised!’ He was close to tears now - tears of anger and frustration and sheer humiliation that these liars called themselves his parents. The two people across the table shared a look that Brian couldn’t quite make out with his blurry tearstained view, but he knew they realised he was not going to take this breach of trust sitting down. 

‘I know, Brian,’ his father eventually said. ‘I know we did that. But that was before we knew the circumstances.’

Brian huffed out a laugh despite himself. ‘Circumstances? I told you about John, and his antisocial personality disorder, and that his sister was disabled, his father was dead, and that he used to live with his aunt and uncle before being sent here! You knew that all along, half of this even before there was even talk of either him or me being released. And now you’re changing your mind because of it? I’m calling bullshit.’

‘Brian!’

The person addressed ignored his mother’s admonitory calling of his name. ‘It’s bullshit. You’re just using it against John because you’re too lame to help him. To help us! I thought you cared about me!’ Brian realised that especially this last sentence was a petty low shot, but he was willing to steep down to whatever level it took to either convince, threaten, or sabotage his parents into letting John come home with him as they had promised him. 

‘It’s not that easy, Brian. It’s just- it’s very hard to take someone you’ve only known from stories, with a troubled background, into your house and just see what happens,’ Harold said. ‘Your mother and I have had a very rough time while you were away. We don’t know if we could handle having someone else in our house right now. Besides you, of course,’ was added quickly - something Brian didn’t know made matters better or worse. 

‘Oh, yes. I’m sure it’s been very hard on you,’ Brian said cynically, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘It must have been very hard, sitting around at home living your normal life while we tried to survive at Queen Mary’s. Saw people drugging themselves down at the daily. Fights in the canteen and people ending up at the infirmary with broken bones. Someone knocked John to the floor and tried to stab my eye out. Someone was murdered while we were in there, Goddamnit, and you talk about having had a hard time because you didn’t have someone to share boring stories about your nine to five job or the coffee visit to the neighbours with during dinnertime!’ Brian realised he was shouting now, and saw the guard stepping a few steps closer to their table from the corner of his eyes. He wondered if Nolan and John could hear him from the other side, but eventually decided that the iron walls and doors probably had been designed so as to not let through any noise. He did not particularly care so much about Nolan or the guards outside the visiting hall overhearing him, but he’d rather not upset John by having him hear his lack of emotional control in the given situation.

‘They tried- your eye? Someone was murdered?’

Brian should have known that breaking the news of the recent gang wars, the almost daily injuries, and Jimmy’s death-bordering-on-murder to his parents would not be something they’d take lightly. They of course expected their son to be safe at Queen Mary’s; this had been the entire reason they had sent him there rather than keeping him at home to see where his mental problems would take him. However, as he was in the mood to shock and make a statement rather than to comfort his parents about his safety at Queen Mary’s, he raised his voice again.

‘Yes, that’s the place you sent me off to! That’s the place I’ll have to stay in for even longer if they won’t let me go. That’s where’s John’s been in for two years, and the place you’ll send him off to again if you let him be taken into a fucking council house full of drug addicts and criminals and other people he shouldn’t have to deal with! Because unlike me,’ Brian breathed with an index finger prodding into his own chest, ‘unlike me, he doesn’t have a backup plan, or family to take him in! He’ll be left to the government, or a resocialisation programme for criminals and other freaks he doesn’t belong to, or simply to- to the streets!’ Brian could hear his own voice faltering and eventually breaking, so he cut himself off before real cracks would appear in either his voice or his iron facial expression. He knew that Nolan had spoken of a rehabilitation plan hosted by Queen Mary’s, but what this really meant was that people who did not have any family, were disowned by them, or did not want to return to them, were sent to join resocialisation programmes that hardly ever tailored to people recovering from mental illness. They often ended up addicted to drugs, in prison for dealing or robbery, or worse than that. It made his heart ache to even think of the possibility that John might be exposed to scenes like those if he would not be given a proper foundation upon leaving Queen Mary’s - a foundation it seemed that, for the lack of connections and resources of his own, only Brian’s family could provide at the moment. 

‘Oh, darling…’ 

A tissue, produced from his mother’s handbag, was pushed over to his side of the table. Brian hadn’t previously noticed that he had been crying, but moving the back of his hand over his right cheek once proved that he indeed had been doing to. He grabbed the tissue and pressed it against his eyes in an attempt to smother his tears - without much luck, that was. They kept coming and coming and wouldn’t stop, and Brian had no other choice than to give in to them,

‘Brian, my darling...’ The familiar voice of his mother was soft and soothing, but it did not give him any comfort - and neither did the words she spoke, even though Brian knew they were meant to bring him peace of mind. ‘We’ll find a way, okay? I promise we’ll find a way.’

‘What if I was in his place?’ Brian then asked, crumpling the soaked tissue into a ball in his hand. ‘If you- you couldn’t take care of me because you w-were occupied or dead, wouldn’t you want someone else to take me in to recover?’ he asked, now looking directly at his parents with eyes blurred with tears. ‘Or would you rather have me discarded to the streets and venture for- for myself? Would you?’ 

‘We wouldn’t,’ his father said. ‘Of course we wouldn’t. We’ll work this out, Brian,’ he said, but the words didn’t quite land on Brian, who was so far gone into the image of John being expulsed from any sort of society and having to roam the streets at night to find a place to sleep, that the words of his parents didn’t reach him any longer.

‘John is so sweet and good-natured and… and he deserves better than this. So much better than this. Please, you have- you have to help him!’ Sobs now properly overtook Brian’s body, and he rested his face on his hands on the table top. Sounds of chairs scratching the floor and heels clicking on the tiles approached, and then there was an arm around his shoulders and a hand stroking his hair and indistinguishable voices soothing him. It was as if he was five years old again and had screamed for his parents with all of his might after waking up from a dreadful nightmare. He was unsure whether it was a comfort or plain sadness that his parents still came running towards him to soothe him, but it at least felt good to have them at his side again instead of just having them look at him from a distance and staring at him with that weird, empty glance, trying to figure out what on earth was going on in his mind. 

‘It’s okay; everything will be okay.’ His mother stroked his cheek, and Brian thought he felt her press a kiss against his unruly hair. ‘We’re gonna help John. He’s- we’re going to take him in.’

We’re going to take him in. Brian looked up at his mother through teary eyes when these words, the ones that had once been promised and then denied him again, were spoken. Like a magic spell, he was drawn to them, and through a choked sob he whispered: ‘Really?’

His mother exchanged glanced with his dad first, but then pulled away her glance from that of her husband and nodded. ‘Really. We made a promise, after all.’

Brian felt a wave of relief flooding through his veins; one that allowed the muscles throughout his entire body to unclench and his mind to untangle. ‘Thank- thank you,’ he managed to squeak out. His mother smiled a sad smile - one not so much of happiness but one of acceptance - and stepped away from Brian. His father followed her example.

‘Come, dry your tears and come down to yourself,’ she said while handing him another tissue. Surprisingly enough, it was actually feasible for Brian to carry out these instructions now that he had been comforted about the fate of his partner. He wiped his face clean of tears, and by the time he was able to stifle most of the last remaining sobs, he could look his parents in the eyes again.

‘So you promise you’ll let John in? And you… won’t come back on it again?’ Brian asked, just to be sure. After all, he had been let down once before, and he did not know if he could take it to have all of his hopes shatter just like that again.

‘We promise for real this time,’ his father answered without skipping a beat, which Brian took as a good sign. ‘Your mother and I are just overwhelmed, is all. Within a week we got to hear that you would be going for a reassessment, that you wanted to have your new best friend move in with us because he can’t go home, then all these people called us and we received forms to fill out through the mail concerning our responsibilities when you’d be released and all the people and institutes we’d have to be in touch with still… So we just…. Went with it all hoping to be able to talk things over today, but we arrive in a storm of more papers and receptionists and mentors telling us to sign more documents, and then there’s John with this- excuse my languages but… problematic background, and I think we just- didn’t know how to handle it anymore.’

‘But then you should have said so. You should have told Nolan and us you needed more explanation or more time or more guidance, instead of taking ten steps back and breaking your promise to John and me. I haven’t seen him so- so hurt in a long time,’ Brian said. His saliva felt heavy and tough when he swallowed. ‘I told you how nervous John was to meet you over the phone just the other day. I spent a week to convince him to even come along to this meeting; he was too afraid to say or do something that would make you reject him. And then you go and… attack him and push him away for the reasons he can help least? His trauma following the death of his father, and the accident of his sister? His having to live with family because his mum couldn’t take care of him anymore in the depth of his depression? That was- that was plain low, dad. And you too, mum. Really, really low.’

It was only when Brian had uttered this entire soliloquy that he realised when he had said - and he immediately regretted it, despite having meant every single word of it. He knew his parents were not going to take kindly to being lectured by him about what they should and what they shouldn’t do. However, just as he expected to be told off for reprimanding his parents for behaving the way they did, the glance of his father’s face softened.

‘You are right. We were wrong to treat John like that,’ Harold said. Not seeming to know what he was to say afterward, he turned to his wife for support.

‘We will say sorry to John in a minute. I hope we can make him feel welcome still,’ Ruth told Brian, who nodded slowly, thankfully, at his parents.

‘Thank you,’ he whispered. ‘That means a lot to the both of us.’

‘It’s just… I know it’s no excuse, and I know that Queen Mary’s must have been a lot harder for you than it was for us,’ his father acknowledged. ‘But I think I speak for both your mum and myself when I say that I’ve been lying awake during the last few nights, wondering if this is really what you want.’

Brian frowned. ‘Whether what is what I want?’

‘This… all of this. To leave Queen Mary’s before your time’s due,’ his dad said.

‘My time is due,’ Brian said with some insistence. ‘I go where John goes, and he goes where I go.’

‘I know,’ his father said. ‘I know- and that’s what I’ve been worried about. That you’re not thinking about your own sanity and well-being, but about John’s only. You understand me?’

‘I do, but-’

‘Doctor Sumner worked hard to give you a spot here at Queen Mary’s, and despite the… circumstances we’ve heard about, we know that trained people do all they can,’ his mother interrupted. ‘Are you sure you want to put all of that aside?’

‘Absolutely positive,’ Brian answered. ‘I’d put everything aside for John - and not just because I… care about him so much, but because I know John is the best help I could possibly have.’

‘But what about your therapy, then?’ his mum asked.

‘He is a better help to me than any of the therapists I’ve spoken to so far, and any therapist I will ever meet in my life,’ Brian said. His father opened his mouth as to say something, but Brian held up his hand to summon him to be quiet. To his own surprise, it seemed to work. ‘John supports me through everything in a way not a single medical professional could ever do. He is always there for me, always tries to cheer me up and cheer me on with everything I do. He’s my rock in a way that no one else could ever be. He’s been my real help at Queen Mary’s, and the real reason why I’m in a much better place now.’ 

By the time Brian had finished this monologue, he noticed his parents really had fallen quiet, and simply blinked at him as to take in all they had just been told. It was at this point also that he realised he was a little out of breath, and, upon placing his hand on his cheek, he found that it was warm and glowing. My God, I must look like an idiot right now, Brian thought to himself. Fortunately for him, though, this was not the message his parents had taken away from the scene he had put himself in.

‘You really care about him, don’t you?’ There was a small smile on his mother’s face as she asked this.

‘Yes,’ Brian sighed. ‘More than about anything or anyone in the world.’

‘Well… It really seems like the only way to help you right now is to help John,’ his father remarked, which Brian realised summarised the current state of affairs pretty well. ‘So that’s what we’re going to do, then.’

Even though this decision had already been secured beforehand, it still made a wave of relief flow through Brian’s veins now that it was reinstigated. They were going to allow John to come live with them; John would have a place to go to; and, sooner or later, depending on the outcome of the reassessment, Brian would be there to live with John and his family again. They’d be together, just the two of them, without any of the disorder and the violence and the overall chaos of Queen Mary’s that currently formed the framework of all they did and said, and they would be happy.

‘We will do that exactly,’ Ruth confirmed, then, turning to her husband, she said: ‘Why don’t you go and fetch John and Nolan, dear, and let me have a second to talk to my boy alone.’ Despite the innocent smile on her face, Brian knew that his mother had something on her mind. His father must have realised this too, for his glance lingered between his wife and his son for a little too long to be just casual, but he then nodded and took his leave either way. 

Ruth waited until her husband was out of earshot, and then turned around to face her son again. 

‘Brian?’ She leant in a bit closer to him, as she would do when she had something serious or confidential to share with him.

‘Yes, mum?’ Brian said, hoping she would not notice how tight his voice sounded already.

‘About John… He’s not just your roommate, or your friend, now is he? He’s more than that.’

Oh, Lord. That was a lot quicker and a lot more to the point than Brian had expected it to be. Of course, he had foreseen the likeliness of his parents expecting something sooner or later once they’d live under the same roof with his parents. He’d thought of the possibility of his mum wondering out loud why they insisted on sleeping in the same room, or his dad remarking that they never left each other’s side. The way they would look at each other, smile at each other, sit a bit too close whenever they got the chance - he had thought of what to say when such matters would be raised. He had not, however, prepared himself for something as straightforward as this question, and in the heat of the moment, he did not trust himself to lie and tell a more socially acceptable answer. Besides, his mother looked at him with such a kind and comforting expression on her face that Brian was positive he could have discarded of a body on her behalf if she would have asked him.

Therefore, he nodded nearly invisibly in response. ‘He is. He’s… We are… everything to each other,’ Brian whispered. ‘I just… need him like I’ve never needed anyone before.’ A smile broke through on his face, but no matter how badly he would have liked for it to have been one of happiness or pride, it would be incorrect to say so. It was a long-hidden feeling of insecurity towards the future, of what people would think of them - of embarrassment and a feeling of failure. Not for loving John, but for breaking the illusion his parents had had of him for so long. An illusion he had had of himself for so long - one that never might have come to the surface if it hadn’t been for John and him crossing paths. Meeting John had changed the entire road of life he had always had in sight for himself, and the realisation that moulding his life around John and what they were together was going to be a reality, in all of its good and bad points, suddenly struck him. Tears filled his eyes, and when his mother did not respond to any he had said and simply looked at him, he shook his head. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘What for?’ she asked gently.

‘For- not being what you thought I was,’ he managed. ‘For not coming home with a girl.’

‘Darling…’ Brian knew that voice, and he could feel his mother’s hand reaching out to place itself on top of his own hand before she even completed the action, as a matter of speaking. ‘I don’t care who or what you come home with - whether they’re male or female, or Catholic or Anglican, or black or white or purple with yellow dots. What I care for is that you come home as you, alive and well, unlike - unlike some of the stories you hear sometimes,’ she said, leaving Brian unsure if she meant stories from mental health clinics in general, or the ones he had witnessed and shared with her. ‘I want you to come home happy again, and I can tell that he makes you happy.’

‘He does,’ Brian smiled despite himself. ‘He makes me happier than I’ve ever been.’

‘I know, and that’s what matters to us,’ his mum said. ‘Listen, Brian. Your dad and I wanted for you to come home happy again - that’s what we sent you to Queen Mary’s for. The first few nights after we’d taken you here I could do nothing but crying and praying that sending you here would make you feel better, happier, regardless of how this happiness came about. And God must have heard my prayers.’

‘John is a gift from above,’ Brian smiled. ‘He makes me happier than I’ve ever been, or ever could have imagined being.’

‘That’s settled then.’

‘Really?’ Brian asked, not having thought his mother would be so quick to deal with the fact that her only son came home with a guy. ‘But what about- you, or dad, or grandma, or the rest of the family? Especially dad. He’s- he’s always talked about how he can’t wait till my wedding day, and to see his grandchildren…’

‘I know. He’ll have to readjust his expectations, then,’ his mother shrugged. ‘This isn’t about him or me or anyone else apart from John and you.’

‘Thank you,’ Brian smiled broadly at the recognition he had not ever even hoped to get from his family so soon. Then, a less pleasant thought dawned upon him. ‘Mum, will you tell him?’

His mother did not need any context to know what and who he meant. ‘Do you want me to tell him?’

Brian thought for a second. On the one hand it felt liberating to tell the truth, to tell his parents where he and John really stood – but on the other hand, after already having told them more than he had already planned to do and without John’s permission, he decided against the plan in the end. ‘I don’t know. I’ll have to discuss it with John. It’s not something that concerns me only, you know.’

‘Of course. It’s not just you on your own anymore from now off,’ his mother said with a small smile. ‘It’s going to be you and your better half.’ Brian felt himself glow at the mentioning of these words. John really was his better half – and his mother was accepting of the position John played in his life. Maybe things were finally looking up for him. 

Things definitely seemed like they were heading in the right direction when the iron door burst open to reveal John, who skipped his way through the visiting room on his mission to find Brian. Brian heard and saw him coming from what seemed to him like miles away – he pushed his chair backward with more force than necessary, almost tripped over his mother’s bag, but did not let this stop himself from dashing towards John and catching his boyfriend into his embrace hallway down the room. When he squeezed John into a hug – and was similarly squeezed into one by John from the other side of things – his partner’s body felt warm and vibrant and alive; so much more alive than Brian had seen him in ages, or perhaps ever before. The grip of John’s fingers on the back of his grey uniform shirt was tight, like he wanted to avoid ever being separated from him in his life; as if Brian was going to allow anyone to come between the pair of them when John looked at him with the most appreciative and loving eyes he had ever been looked at with.

‘They’ll let me in,’ John squeaked in a voice squeezed with happiness and relief. ‘I’ll be allowed to stay and- and live with your family and- and with you.’ The arms around his back moved on to be placed above his shoulders, and Brian could not oppress the urge to put his own hands below John’s armpits and lift him off the floor for a spin. John squealed at first and then laughed, and when his feet were safely planted back on the floor, he threw his body against Brian’s so tightly that it took all of Brian’s strength to not lift up his chin and kiss him right there and then in the middle of the visiting room. He contained himself, though, and made a mental note to shower John in a thousand kisses once they’d get back to their room; a room which they might, with a bit of luck, exchange for Brian’s real bedroom, inside his real house before too long. 

‘Of course they will. I told you they were going to love you,’ Brian replied with the biggest smile. A side glance towards his smiling mother revealed that she really did approve of this statement of his.

Harold and Nolan caught up with them, and Nolan, obviously content and relieved with the turn-out of the meeting, was quick to produce the required paperwork that needed to be signed. Brian held his breath until the moment his father had put his signature on both the file ruling that he’d take his own son back in and on the file ensuring John would be placed under their care also. It was then that he knew there was going to be no return, a thought that made mellow happiness spread through his body as he rested his hand on John’s shoulder when his boyfriend signed the paperwork with a shaky but determined hand.

The formalities then having been taken care of and the time planned for the meeting being almost up, Nolan started shaking hands and speaking of next steps to be taken – financial compensation and guidance for family of what was clumsily referred to as ‘the mentally afflicted’ and other matters Brian could not find himself caring for at the time being. All he cared about was that they were one step closer to completing their plan of escaping Queen Mary’s before the place would turn either one or the both of them out of their minds, or possibly worse. 

Brian stepped forward to hug his dad and kiss his mum as a form of goodbye, and received some more words of comfort – that they would be there for his trial in a few weeks, and that John really would be welcome in their house regardless of how matters turned out for Brian. If Brian remained somewhat skeptical to that point, the last traces of doubt left his mind when he saw John willingly letting himself be captured in an embrace by both of his parents and receiving words of welcome, comfort, and encouragement. John managed little more than a series of ‘thank yous’ and ‘I can’t tell you how grateful I am’,  but Brian could tell by the radiant look in his eyes when he broke away from his family-to-be that he was finally, after all this time, gathering some hope for the future – for their future.

‘We’ll see you soon, Brian. And you too, John. We’re looking forward to it,’ Brian’s mother said when Nolan turned to lead his patients out of the same door they had come from an hour ago. John turned around once more to flash them a smile, and give them a wave; Brian followed his example, then placed his hand on John’s back and guided him through the door.

‘Phew. That was a wild ride,’ said Nolan, who pretended to wipe the sweat off his forehead. The iron door fell shut behind him, and he started moving towards the exit at the other side of the hall. Brian and John followed close behind. ‘For a moment I was afraid that – you know…’ They all knew what it was that Nolan was referring to, but no one was particularly keep on speaking the words out loud. ‘But I’m glad they turned around, Brian. That whatever you said worked, and that John won’t have to worry anymore.’ John smiled for a bit, but Brian could tell it wasn’t genuine. 

‘What’s wrong? Aren’t you relieved?’

‘I am,’ John confirmed. ‘But I still worry. What if you don’t get out, or if your parents change their minds on me…’

‘They won’t,’ Brian said before the thought could properly settle in John’s mind. ‘They’re not going to change their minds. And as for me – I’m gonna give it all I’ve got during the final hearing or whatever they call that. And if that’s not enough, I’ll… I’ll find a way to be out of here as soon as possible, honey. I’ll show the best of behaviour and cooperation they’ve ever seen in the history of this place, or try another reassessment. I’ll find a way to leave, I promise.’ John looked skeptical still, but luckily Nolan came to Brian’s rescue. 

‘You won’t have to open a second reassessment. Jasper and Sarah and others are all on your side of the case – and with such strong support and all the effort and dedication you’ve shown in filling out the paperwork, attending sessions with the new psych, keeping up your mental diary your diary, and your exemplary behaviour at Queen Mary’s, there’s not a single objection I think they can make against your case. I can see no grounded reason for them to turn your appeal down.’

‘See?’ Brian said to John, pretending to be not in the least surprised by this claim of Nolan’s that his admission was almost a fact already. ‘Nothing to worry about.’

‘But Doctor Sumner will be there,’ John muttered. ‘He’ll find a way to let you stay.’

Having arrived at the other side of the hallway, Nolan held open the door for them; but Brian halted his step the second John brought up the name of Doctor Sumner.

‘Sorry, who are we speaking of?’ Nolan asked innocently. Brian was sure he must have read the name of his former psychiatrist in one of the papers concerning the trial, but how could Nolan know the evil intentions of the man behind the name?

‘Thank you, Nolan. We’ll see you in a bit,’ Brian said with what he knew for a fact was the fakest smile he’d ever produced. He could tell his mentor was confused by their sudden secretiveness, but – God bless him – he nodded politely and disappeared through the door. Brian waited until the door fell shut again before he looked John in the face.

‘You know Doctor Sumner is going to be there,’ John stated, more firmly this time.

‘I know,’ Brian gritted. ‘I just hoped you had forgotten about him.’

John snorted. ‘As if.’ 

‘Fair enough,’ Brian sighed. The truth of the matter was that Doctor Sumner had also crossed his mind more than just incidentally lately. Ever since Nolan had informed him of the fact that one was to be judged by a panel of three psychiatrists, one of which would be one’s former psychiatrist or another mental health expert who could testify to one’s character and mental illness, he had feared the possibility of Doctor Sumner disapproving of his being released out of fear he would speak up about the injustice his former psych had pulled him through. He had repressed these fears as much as he could, however, and had hoped that John would have forgotten about Doctor Sumner completely. It seemed like there was no such luck for him though; the handful of times he had brought up the nightmare of a psych during trips to Queen Mary’s garden had obviously stuck in John’s mind, and he himself remained unsure of his destiny with Doctor Sumner playing a role in it.

‘Look. I know the situation is hardly ideal, but Nolan is probably right. Sumner has no valid grounds to restrain me to Queen Mary’s without revealing his fear that he used me for his experiments to get his breakthrough in the medical world or whatever. And if he doesn’t remember so, I might just have to remind him of it.’

John’s ears seemed to prick up at the hint of such a bold thing to do. ‘You’re thinking of doing that?’

Brian, not wanting to admit that he devised this plan literally a split second ago, turned to open the door and let his lover pass through it. ‘Perhaps. If he leaves me no choice – if he’s the one to make me stay I guess I might have to bring it up. It’s not like I’ll have anything to lose in that case anyway,’ Brian grinned. ‘But I’m sure it won’t come to that point – as Nolan said, the judges have no valid grounds to keep me here for, so they’ll probably let me go. And if Sumner is the only one who disagrees… Well, I’ll just say it’s suspicious and ask him if there’s anything from our shared past that might hold him back, and leave the ball in his goal from that point.’

‘Stone cold but clever,’ John snickered. ‘You know, when you first got here, I never thought you’d have it in you to be like that.’

‘Your talents must have rubbed off on me,’ Brian shrugged.

‘My talents were not the only things that rubbed off on you.’

‘John!’ Brian called out in surprise, turning to the side to see his grinning lover catch up with him. ‘Cheeky! You did not get that from me!’

‘No, that must have been Freddie’s doing,’ John contemplated. ‘Having lived with him for a year or so has taken its toll on me.’

Brian stopped for a second. ‘Has it really been that long for Freddie?’

John nodded. ‘Same for Roger - he arrived only a month or so later, if not less. It’s kind of surreal when you think about it.’

‘It’s so weird - day to day life here passes so slowly, and yet in the grand scheme of things-’

‘May.’

Brian halted his sentence when he heard his last name being called out quite loudly in the otherwise empty seeming main hallway. It was early in the afternoon, and with no mealtimes, therapy groups, or other activities running - and a ban on residing in the canteen outside of meal hours out of a fear for fights and confrontation - there was little more than the occasional lone patient passing by.

‘Did you also hear…’ he turned to John, but was not given the time to await an answer.

‘Yes, you there. Brian.’

Brian could now no longer deny the presence of someone calling out for him, but it came as quite a shock to find that the source of the sound was no one other than Drew. Drew, the bully and murderer of Jimmy; the one who had threatened to cut his eye out, who had belittled and teased and pushed Freddie and Roger on multiple accounts, who had knocked John over and given him the biggest black eye Brian had ever witnessed - that Drew was now leaning against the matte glass wall of the canteen, with his arms crossed over his chest, a - strictly forbidden - toothpick between his lips, and for some reason a ground for calling Brian to him.

Brian could see John take a step back behind him, but then step forward again in what seemed like an attempt to show Drew that he was not going to back away. It made little impression on either one of them, for they all knew that despite the tough attitude John tried to keep up, and despite having stood up to Drew and having embarrassed him in front of all of his followers and enemies not too long ago, John did not feel comfortable around him. Hell, no one at Queen Mary’s felt comfortable around the brute of a guy; he was violent, unthinking, remorseless, and had shown on multiple occasions that he was capable of releasing the entire institution into chaos by planting his fists into the face of someone from the other side of things. Luckily he was on his own right now, but Brian nevertheless felt awkward and unsafe around him. Moreover, he could tell that John was feeling unsafe - and whatever Drew wanted from him, was not something he was going to burden John with. 

‘I’ll deal with this,’ he mumbled to the man standing beside him. ‘You can go to our room if you want to - I’ll catch up.’

‘No,’ John answered softly yet resolutely. ‘I’m not leaving you here.’ 

Brian was unsure whether he should be grateful for Jon’s determination to stay at his side or worried that whatever Drew wanted to get back at him for would now be shared with John also. But, like always seemed to be the case when anything happened for which he would like to be given time to think about and ponder the consequences, he was given absolutely no more than a split second before he had to act and speak up.

‘Brian May,’ Drew repeated his name. The look on his face was intense, as if he was trying to figure out Brian’s blood type with the help of nothing with his eyes. He remained exactly where he was and made no attempts at moving closer, as he was usually prone to do when trying to intimidate someone, but Brian still was not comfortable.

‘Drew Myers.’ Brian hoped the shiver in his voice wasn’t too audible - and that the last name he had picked up in the canteen a while back actually belonged to Drew. Drew at any rate did not comment on it being incorrect - in fact, he made no derogatory comments or showed otherwise unpleasant behaviour at all. 

‘Heard you’re going for a reassessment in a week,’ he said coolly. The little wooden toothpick between his lips switched to the other side of his mouth.

For a second Brian wanted to ask him how he got to possess this piece of information, but he realised soon enough that the news of the only successful attempt at leaving Queen Mary’s early must have spread like wildfire among its patients and staff. ‘You heard right,’ he therefore said just as coolly. Not knowing what to do with his hands, he crossed them in front of him in the same fashion as Drew did - which, he realised, must not have looked as cool on him and his 6’3, 130 pound body as it did on Drew’s be it somewhat shorter but a lot broader and more muscular one. Fortunately for him, Drew did not seem intended on calling him out today.

‘I’ll cross my thumbs for you. Hope you’ll get through.’

Brian was caught by surprise by this unexpectedly kind comment. He could feel John turning to look at him, but in his moment of surprise he could not unlock his eyes from Drew’s face. ‘Really?’

‘Yes,’ Drew said without a hint of doubt. ‘You deserve better than this.’

‘Er, thanks,’ Brian uttered after having shared a short glance with John despite it all. ‘We’re, eh, hoping to leave and pick up our lives again.’ He did not know why he said this, why he tried to make conversation with someone who had basically threatened to take their lives on multiple accounts, and who had done worse besides that. But Drew didn’t show a sign of violence or malice now; he seemed calm and reasonable and perhaps even civil, and Brian found himself unable to treat Drew the exact same way in his place. 

‘As you should,’ Drew nodded. ‘You never did seem to belong here, you know. Neither did you, John.’ His hands unfolded to give a quick little point at John, who swallowed a little painfully but remained constant otherwise as Drew’s attention turned to him. ‘Way too good for a place like this. You two are better than the whole bunch of us together.’

Brian had never expected Drew to say something so kind to them.

He had also never expected that Drew saying something kind to them would simultaneously be the last thing they’d ever hear him say. A mere three days after their unexpected meetup, Drew was stabbed between the ribs with a kitchen knife one of his newly admitted rivals had acquired during a secret trip to the staff kitchen and dining room. Nolan and Derek had given CPR, an ambulance had been called, but Drew had, as the story went, been pronounced dead upon his arrival at the hospital.  

Another life wasted. 

All Brian could do was hope his case would indeed be approved, or else he feared that the name of the person he loved most in the entire world might soon also have to be added to the list of victims Queen Mary’s Psychiatric Institution had produced. 

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed - feel free to send me PMs or messages or anons about your opinions and suggestions for The Clinic, or just to come talk for a bit. I love and appreciate you all! <3

[trcrmaddctn-blog]

Lennart Persson, The Vampire

Responsible for murdering and drinking blood from his two foster sisters Camilla (34) and Anna (19). Also ate pieces of Anna’s body.

Gävle Sweden, March 30th & October 25th 2005.

History:

Something was wrong with Lennart’s legs when he was a kid and therefor he had to spend a lot of his childhood at the hospital. There are no specific details of what exactly had happened or what treatment he was receiving etc. There’s also no public explanation as to why he lived with a foster family.

People described Lennart as being different from a very young age, for example when kids would draw their snowmen with carrots for noses, Lennart colored his black and drew fangs. An old classmate said that most kids thought his family was weird and didn’t want to come over or even hang out with him. Lennart couldn’t make any friends so he spent most of his time with his family and siblings. He wasn’t social at all until he became a teenager, which is when he gained an interest for circuses, talked about how he loved country and told people he wanted to visit Nashville.

Around this time, his family became increasingly perceived as different. The school contacted the local health and environmental protection department to report that all of Lennart’s clothes would stink of cat urine every day. According to notes from the department, the stench of cat urine was terribly strong in the family house. There were piles of fecal matter and dried urine on all floors. They had over 60 starving cats with diseases, injuries and lumps of said feces in their fur.

When Lennart turned 18 years old his foster parents got him an apartment in Skutskär. He isolated himself and began to have thoughts of killing people.

In the police hearings Lennart mentioned that he was harassed by kids after moving out, for being introverted. They would pound and knock on his door, so one day he opened the door, grabbed two of the kids and threw them outside. He said he wanted to kill them, but grabbed a baseball bat and hit their parents front door until it broke instead. He said that if anyone had been around he would’ve beaten them to death. The parents decided not to report this incident to the police.

During that time, Lennart wasn’t seeing his two foster sisters Camilla and Anna very much, but they were often in his thoughts. He has always claimed that he never thought of them sexually, but during the investigation they found an anonymous letter with pornographic content that had been sent to Camilla. Whether it was proven to be written by Lennart is unclear. Either way, Lennart’s colleagues from a resturant that he had been working in claimed that Lennart had told them he got a 14 year old girl pregnant, but that he and his girlfriend would adopt the baby because the girlfriend was sterile. He told his colleagues that he lived with both of them and then showed them a picture of the two. Later, they were able to identify one of the two girls from the picture as Anna.

Lennart’s desire to kill kept increasing and he started to become scared of people. He said he couldn’t trust anyone and felt paranoid, and that he would always carry a knife in his pocket. At one point he started thinking he’d get worse if he stayed in the apartment, so he stopped paying rent until he was kicked out by the landlord so that he could move back to his foster parents. He lived in their shed and would only come inside the house to eat, shower and take care of a dog. He would often buy movies, and sometimes he’d sit and burn them up right outside the shed. No one in the family knew why, but they didn’t ask either.

Anna & Camilla

Crime:

30th of March 2005, Lennart took two buses to Sätra early in the morning to visit his sister Anna. He claims he had no bad intentions and went there to meet her newborn son. After coming inside, he and Anna went to the kitchen where she started talking about her life. Suddenly Lennart pulled out his knife and started stabbing her, ‘’I couldn’t stop. I just kept stabbing her’’. Tommie, Anna’s boyfriend, came to see what was going on. When he saw Anna on the floor and Lennart with a knife in his hand he got scared and fled the scene, ‘’He should’ve done something. He’s a coward. But I would’ve killed him too’’ Lennart said, ‘’Then I did the worst part of it all. I bent over her and started drinking her blood. Then I cut pieces of her’’. When he realized Anna was on the brink of dying, he grabbed her and hugged her. After some time had passed he lay her down and started looking for Anna’s baby with the intentions of killing him as well, but couldn’t find him. He got on the next bus, and as he sat down he heard the ambulance driving by and towards Anna’s place. When he got to the stop where he would switch to another bus, he ran towards a restroom at a library where he would wash his bloody hands. He was surprised that no one was reacting to his bloody clothes. When he got home, he kept a piece of his jacket to smell at the blood but got rid of the rest. The first night he stayed up all night, waiting for the cops, but they never came. Lennart claimed that there was no reason why he chose Anna, and had she not opened the door he would’ve picked someone else.

When he found out that Tommie had been arrested for the murder of Anna, he felt relieved and started making new plans. He made his own calendar and circled the date that he killed Anna and the day that would mark a year after. He had also marked 30th of October, planning to kill someone on halloween.

He attended Anna’s funeral and left flowers for her.

Tommie was held in custody under immense pressure from the police for two months before being released.

On the 25th of October 2005, Lennart felt that the urge to kill was unbearable. He had gotten close to hurting his family members and kids in the area many times. ‘’The day that it happened, I was driving around in Skutskär and looking for someone I could kill and drink blood from. I looked for children first but there was always a parent around which I’m glad for. Then I remembered Camilla’’.

Lennart then went over to Camilla’s place. She was doing the dishes when he came, and her daughter was at school. She had been surprised when Lennart came inside, asking why he came so suddenly. He took his newly bought knife and started stabbing her multiple times. Camilla begged him to stop, but when he did it was only to wash off the knife and his hands because the handle had become slippery. After that, he killed her before looking for her daughter. When he couldn’t find her he ran back to Camilla,’’I drank her blood. Then I went back to the bathroom to clean myself up’’. After a while he got on his bike and returned to his shed feeling happy, ‘’I’ve done it, I’ve consumed blood, I’ve satisfied myself and the demons have left me alone’’. When he’s back he burns his clothes, and at night he’s convinced that the cops are going to come and arrest him. But they don’t. ‘’I was scared I’d feel the urge again. In pure desperation to not kill again, to not harm a child, I tried to kill myself’’.

Lennart tried to commit suicide by drinking detergent and cutting his wrists. When he felt weak and dizzy, he went outside and saw police officers that were on their way to see him. 

After:

During interrogation Lennart confessed to drinking both of his foster sisters’s blood and eating pieces from Anna’s body. When he was asked why he never reached out for help, he responded that he had always been afraid to do so and thought he would get better if he kept himself away from others, isolating himself.

Lennart went through psychiatric investigation after being arrested and was considered to be a seriously psychologically disturbed person.

Lennart was sentenced to involuntary psychiatric care without possibility of being released without approval from court. There’s a reassessment every six months.

Three months after the verdict Lennart had asked for permission to visit his family, but it was denied. He hasn’t asked to leave the hospital since.

In 2009 he was still considered as psychologically disturbed as when he was committed four years earlier.

‘‘Naturally I hope I’ll get better, but it’s going to take a long time before I get out of here. I think I have to stay at least 14-15 more years’‘ he told a news source (also in 2009). He also says he doesn’t feel like he’s gotten any better yet, ‘‘I think and dream a lot about blood and murder. It’s very vampire-y. There’s not a single day that I don’t feel the thirst for blood. I may think it’s gross, but I can’t do anything about it’’. He claims he thinks about Anna and Camilla frequently, ‘‘I feel a little regretful sometimes. My dark side led me to a path there was no return from. I can understand what I’ve done and why. They were easy targets, it’s that simple’‘. During the interview they noticed that Lennart was talking fast and smoothly. He wasn’t hiding anything and even sounded proud when he said ‘‘I’m a vampire and a cannibal, I realize that. Sometimes I do think that it’s an awful thing to feel thirst for blood’‘.

‘‘I have it good here. Nowadays I’m allowed to be around the other patients. During the first year I was locked in my room and isolated’‘ he said, ‘‘I also have daily telephone contact with my family, and sometimes they come to visit me. The doctors say it’s good that I’m not thirsty for blood constantly. But if you’re a vampire then you’re a vampire, there’s nothing to do about it’‘.

In 2013 Lennart’s condition had been stabilized through medication, but was still considered to have a high risk of committing violent crimes if released. The compulsory psychiatric care was to be continued.

There are no recent public news about what or how Lennart is doing now.

[prepare4trouble]

Star Wars Rebels fanfic - Together (an AU of an AU) Part 7/9

(part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6)

A knock on the door of his quarters snapped Ezra to panicked alertness. He grabbed the Sith holocron from the bunk in front of him and stared wildly around the room, trying to find somewhere to hide it. Nobody would know what it was, but they didn’t need to. If someone mentioned it to Kanan, he would almost definitely recognize it from the description.

Although, maybe he wouldn’t. He had other things on his mind right now…

He quickly stashed the holocron underneath the cuddly tooka that the med droid had given him the day before, and pushed the toy to the bottom corner of his bunk where it would be less noticeable.

“Yeah?” he called.

When the door didn’t immediately open, Ezra allowed himself a moment to reassess the hiding place. The tooka was new, and that meant that it would stand out, people would notice it, ask questions about it. If whoever was at the door decided to pick it up, or even just touch it, they would almost definitely notice the holocron underneath.

Anyway, he didn’t want to keep the tooka where people could see it either. He didn’t want to have to put up with the endless jokes Zeb would make at his expense if he saw that Ezra had something like that.

He hesitated. He wanted to move both the tooka and the holocron out of sight, but if he did, the door might open while he was looking for a better hiding place.

He would have to leave them where they were, and hope for the best.

“Come in,” he said, a little louder this time. He jumped down from his bunk and headed to the door to open it. It had to be Sabine. Hera had spent the morning with Kanan, but now she was off overseeing the setting up of the base. As far as Ezra knew, Zeb was out on the base too, but if he was back early, he wouldn’t knock on his own door. And since he seemed to think he owned the ship and everything on it, Chopper wouldn’t have bothered to knock either.

When Sabine continued not to open the door, Ezra pressed the button himself. The door slid open and he was shocked to find Kanan standing on the other side.

As far as Ezra knew, Kanan hadn’t left his room in days, not since he had returned to the ship from the med center. He was the last person Ezra had expected to find on the other side of the door.

At least now he didn’t have to worry about anybody seeing the holocron…

He cringed at the thought and pushed it away, then turned his attention to Kanan.

Kanan’s fingertips were touching the wall to the right of the door where he had, presumably, been searching for the button to open it. The bandage he was wearing was thinner, covering less of his face than the last time Ezra had seen him. Ezra didn’t know whether he had been forced to make the journey to the med center and back again for that, or whether the droid had been on the ship.

His hair was tied back in a very loose ponytail that allowed stray strands of hair to escape from the band and hang around his face. He hadn’t shaved, and the shadow of a beard was beginning to cover his cheeks and upper lip. Ezra could see that he was still in pain from the tension in his lower jaw, though his eyes were completely covered.

“Ezra?” he asked.

Ezra realized with a jolt that Kanan didn’t know whether he was there. Sure, he probably assumed that he was, but he didn’t know. For all he knew, it could have been Zeb that opened the door. Although, probably not, because the smell would give him away. Plus, Zeb probably wouldn’t be stupid enough to just stand there staring.

“Uh, hey,” Ezra stammered.

Kanan visibly relaxed. “Mind if I come in?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Ezra said, then shook his head. That wasn’t right, he didn’t mind. “I mean no,” he said, but that wasn’t right anymore either, because now it sounded like he was telling Kanan that he couldn’t come in. “I mean, I don’t mind,” he clarified. He stepped back, out of Kanan’s way. “Come in,” he added.

Just like the last time Ezra had seen him, one hand checked the space ahead of him as he stepped through the door. Without breaking contact, his other hand moved from the wall outside, to the doorframe, to the wall inside. It remained there like an anchor, not only keeping him in place but allowing him to keep track of exactly where he was in the room. Ezra recognized what he was doing; he had done the same thing himself, when he had been practicing.

He felt a pang of sympathy mixed with sadness and guilt. This hadn’t been supposed to happen.

The med droid had told Kanan the same day he had released him to go home that his sight couldn't be saved. Hera had gathered the rest of the crew together in the lounge to tell them later the same day. The whole thing had reminded Ezra in an uncomfortable way of the time he had shared his own news in that same room.

“So, uh…” Ezra said. “Sorry I haven’t been by to see… visit you. I just…” he folded his arms tightly. The others had been. Hera almost constantly when she wasn’t working, Sabine and Zeb at least once a day. He wasn’t sure about Chopper, but he had been by at least once. Ezra had wanted to. But every time he tried, he found himself hesitating outside the door, imagining how the conversation might go. “Sorry,” he said again. It came out a broken whisper.

“It’s okay,” Kanan told him.

It wasn’t okay. “I was going to come,” Ezra told him. He really had been. He just wasn’t sure when. What had happened had been his fault, and he hadn’t been ready to see the result of his actions. Not only that, but he hadn’t thought Kanan would be ready.

“Mind if I sit down?” Kanan asked.

“Uh, sure, of course.” Ezra looked around the room, and located the single chair underneath the desk that he and Zeb rarely used. One of Ezra’s outfits hung over the back of it, and a Stormtrooper helmet lay on the seat. Ezra quickly grabbed them and placed them out of the way on his bunk. He turned back to Kanan to find him already taking a hesitant step away from the wall, in the direction of the desk.

“You were right,” Kanan told him through gritted teeth. His hand moved through the air again and he took another step, smaller this time. “Learning this and using if for real aren't the same thing.”


Ezra tensed. He should help. Maybe Kanan would refuse, maybe he wanted to do it for himself, but Ezra should at least offer. Only, he didn’t know how to help. He had seen Hera leading Kanan back to the Ghost with Kanan holding onto her arm, but for the few short steps across the room, that wouldn’t work. They would be at their destination almost before they started. The only thing he could think of was to take Kanan by the arm and show him where to go, and he couldn’t do that, because he could imagine exactly how disconcerting it would feel to be pulled around like that.

Kanan took another step. He was going in the right direction but so hesitantly that Ezra could barely stand to watch. Finally, when he was too far away to maintain contact with the wall, Kanan’s hand dropped away, leaving him unanchored and cast adrift in the center of the room. Ezra sucked in his bottom lip and chewed it hard. He couldn’t help but be reminded of the first time he had made the short journey across the room without sight; he had hated every step. Kanan couldn’t even remove his blindfold at the end of it.

“Try…” Ezra said, then stopped.

It was too late. Kanan paused his careful journey across the room, turned in Ezra’s direction and waited for him to continue.

Ezra took a breath. “Just an idea, but try using the Force to check the ground in front of you,” he said. “Instead of trying to sense the whole room, I mean. You know, like bli… kinda like my aunt used her cane.” It was something he had been trying out, and it wasn’t ideal, there were a lot of things it wouldn’t work for, but as long as you paid attention, it could get you across a room without having to worry too much about tripping.

Kanan hesitated before he took another step, a little more confident this time. He nodded.

“Or, I could just help you,” Ezra added. “I mean, if you want.”

Kanan shook his head as he took another few steps, then reached out with his hand to find the back of the chair. He located it on the second attempt, checked the seat with his hand to make sure it was clear, and sat down carefully.

Ezra relaxed the moment Kanan reached his destination. He sat too, on the lower bunk, and stared down at his feet. Silence descended as Ezra tried to think of something — anything — to say. Nothing came to mind; nothing that didn’t relate to Kanan’s injury. He didn’t want to talk about that, not if he didn’t have to. He doubted that Kanan would want to dwell on it either. That was one of the reasons he had avoided visiting in the first place.

Kanan broke the silence. “I heard you went to see the med droid,” he said. “Did he tell you anything?”

If Hera had told Kanan about that, Ezra was sure she would also have told him the outcome of the visit. He shook his head, then remembered that the gesture was meaningless to Kanan now. “Nothing I didn’t know already. It’s what I thought.”

It had been hard to hear. Hera had been the one that had insisted that he go. She had gone with him, sat through the vision tests and the genetic test, and held his hand so tightly during the diagnosis that Ezra thought she might cut off the circulation to his fingers. It was probably for the best. If she hadn’t been holding onto him, he thought he might have run away.

“I’ve probably got about three years,” he added quietly. “Before… you know.”

Kanan pressed his lips together as he processed this new information. “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t have gone with you.”

Ezra shrugged. “You were kinda busy at the time. Anyway, it’s not like I didn’t already know what he was going to say.”

“It’s different though, knowing something for sure,” Kanan told him.

He was right. But then he would be; his news must have been even harder to hear.

Ezra folded his arms and tried not to think about it. There was nothing he could do about it, and he had already known. At least now, for some reason, he had a tooka to hide his holocron underneath. “So, the med droid’s kinda weird,” he said, mostly to change the subject.

The corners of Kanan’s lips curved into the smallest smile and he winced as he agitated the damaged skin around his eyes. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I think someone forgot to program him with a bedside manner.”

“And I know he’s an eye specialist, but does he seem to be really into eye conditions?”

Kanan shrugged. “Not mine. He said it was boring.”

“What?”

“Well, he didn’t actually say ‘boring’. It was something like, ‘The injury, while interesting in cause, is disappointingly mundane in effect,” Kanan effected an odd, stilted tone that did actually sound a little like the droid.

Ezra stared. “You’re kidding,” he said.

Kanan shook his head again, a little more expressively this time. The hint of a smile briefly returned. “So at least you’re interesting.”

Ezra slumped. “I don’t want to be interesting,” he said. “I want things to go back to how they used to be.” How they had been a few months earlier, before he had ever heard of Sacul Syndrome, or of Malachor.

“Yeah,” Kanan sighed. “I know.”

He supposed Kanan must feel the same way, and suddenly he wished he hadn’t said anything. He swiped angrily at tears that were beginning to well up in his eyes, almost glad that Kanan wouldn’t be able to see them.

“Hey,” Kanan said. Ezra looked up to find that somehow without him noticing, Kanan had gotten up and found his way back across the room to stand next to Ezra. His hand hovered in the air for a few moments, moving left and right, up and down, until it finally found Ezra’s shoulder. His fingers gripped hard. “It’s going to be okay,” he said, and he sounded so certain that Ezra could almost believe him.

Almost, but not quite.

“What are we supposed to do now?” Ezra asked.

Kanan folded his arms. “We start lessons again,” he said. “As soon as possible. It’ll be… a little different now, but…” he stopped, shrugged. “We’ll see.”

“No, Kanan, we won’t,” Ezra said. “That’s kinda the problem.”

He froze. He hadn’t meant to say that. It had just slipped out, and now it was too late to take it back.

“I… Sorry,” he said. He looked at Kanan, trying to gauge his reaction.

Kanan gave another small smile. “Don’t be,” he said. “I have a feeling we’re going to need a sense of humor to get through this.”

Ezra relaxed, just slightly. Kanan was right about that, but Ezra wasn’t sure he was ever going to be able to laugh about it.

“You shouldn't have to worry about teaching me,” he said. “Not right now, anyway.” Kanan needed to look after himself, his need was more immediate. It would be a waste to use time he could spend on himself teaching Ezra things that he didn’t need to know yet.

“Do you know what I’ve been doing the past few days?” Kanan asked.

Not shaving, that was for sure. Beyond that, Ezra didn’t know. “Meditating?” he guessed.


Kanan shook his head. “I haven’t been doing anything. I’ve been laying on my bed feeling sorry for myself for most of the past three days. I’ve been trying to think of something to do, but I didn’t know how to do anything. So I just lay there thinking about how useless I felt.”

Ezra looked away as a fresh wave of guilt washed over him. It was his fault. Kanan was feeling that way because of him.

“But today, I decided it was enough,” Kanan continued. “I told you I was going to help you. I said it didn't matter whether you could see or not, you could still be a Jedi. I said we were going to figure it out, and we are. That’s what gave me a reason to get out of bed. Besides, what kind of an example would I be setting if I carried on down that path?”

Ezra didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say. Kanan’s reaction was understandable, and he knew for a fact that if he had been the one injured at Malachor, he would still be laying around wallowing in self-pity.

“Kanan, I…” he began. “I said some things. Before. When you were trying to help me. I… thought some things too. I didn’t mean them. I didn’t want this…” he stopped, unable to continue, and pulled in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry,” he added.

Kanan shook his head. “It’s okay,” he said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

But he had. He had made so many mistakes.

He didn’t reply. He didn’t know what to say. Instead, barely even thinking about what he was doing, he found himself on his feet with his arms wrapped tightly around Kanan. He felt Kanan stiffen in surprise at the unexpected embrace and realized a second too late that he should have been more gentle, maybe given a little warning, but Kanan recovered quickly. He returned the hug, and for a moment, Ezra felt safe. For a moment, he could forget everything that had happened and was happening, and imagine that the universe was as it should be.

But only for a moment. Then it was over, and they were standing in Ezra’s quarters, Kanan’s face partially obscured by a bandage covering his damaged eyes.

“We’re going to be fine,” Kanan said. “You know that, right?”

Ezra wanted to believe it, but he just couldn’t. He shook his head. “How?”

“Because we’re going to help each other. The thing you showed me just now, using the Force like a cane, it’s different to what we’ve been trying to do, and it’s probably something I wouldn’t have thought of, but it worked. That’s what we’re going to do. It’s not going to be about me teaching you anymore — it never should have been that — we’re going to teach each other. We’re going to figure it out together.”

It was almost the same thing Kanan had told him before, when he had been trying to help him. Neither of them knew the answer, they didn’t know for certain what would, and what wouldn’t work, but they were going to learn together. It was the same promise, but it felt different now. If felt true.

Ezra hated it.

He took a breath and exhaled slowly. He hated it, but he could work with it. “Okay,” he said.

(next)

[christophe-delorne]

Good Dog

Chapter 7

Warnings: Excessive swearing

Pairings: Gregory x Christophe

AU: Adulthood

The air port was crowded, with summer beginning, people were filing in for vacation travel. Christophe had never actually properly experienced something the average person would call a vacation, he'd never be able to enjoy himself anyways. He'd been on pretend vacations, a couple with Gregory, faking being happily together while undercover for one reason or another. He hated those times the worst. Though he was certain this whole trip was going to top the list in being the worst trip. He hated America, well more so he hated the people living in it. Gregory said he was just over reacting, well, he wasn't the one to have technically died during their little trip to America as kids.

"Come now, Christophe, grab our bags, we are supposed to check in the hotel in an hour. With traffic the way it is, we will be hard pressed to make it there in time." Gregory's voice broke through Christophe's thoughts, drawing him back to the present, which wasn't exactly what he wanted. Every so often, someone would brush passed him and it was grating on his nerves. Not to mention he hadn't been able to smoke a single cigarette in over eleven hours, he was not in the best of moods to be dealing with people.

Muttering under his breath, Christophe picked the bags off the conveyor belt and extended their handles so he could roll them. As usual Gregory had denied Christophe the right to use his tattered old and trusty suitcase, instead insisting on using suitcases that looked like they cost more than what he spent in an entire year. Or two. Gregory was always one to show off his wealth in subtle ways, elegant, refined, no need to flaunt extravagantly when everyone knew his wealth and status. Christophe pulled the bags behind him as he followed after Gregory, at least the man was useful in the way people seemed to part for him, unlike for some grungy, short Frenchman with an attitude problem.

As they neared the exit doors, Christophe tensed, his gaze flickering towards someone who was approaching them directly ahead with focus set on them. He was ready to step in front of Gregory and attack when Gregory smiled and opened up his arms in welcome. The other person, who Christophe was still trying to figure out, smiled and rushed up to hug Gregory in return. Christophe relaxed in one sense but only felt irritable in another. He turned his head, deciding in favor to observe their surroundings that deal with this shit again.

"Gregory! Its been so long since I've seen you. How was your flight?" Black hair, short but styled in a way that made the person appear male, but Christophe couldn't be fore certain. Something was off, something that maybe the untrained eye couldn't see, but for someone who was used to disguising himself, Christophe knew better. However, Gregory seemed to have been expecting them and didn't glance at Christophe to give the Frenchman any hint to be on guard. So whatever secret this person was hiding, wasn't important enough to warrant further investigation from Christophe.

"Long and dreary, I'm afraid. However, worth the trip to be here once more. So catch me up on all the details on the ride to the hotel, yes?" Gregory had already hooked his arm into the crook of this stranger, seeing how Gregory didn't bother to introduce Christophe, it appeared that his services weren't required. So he just trailed silently after them, having no inclination to join the casual banter anyways. Corprate politics and boring lives of the stranger didn't appeal to Christophe. As they reached the car finally, Christophe shoved the suitcases into the back of the car, a sleek charcoal gray color. Probably electric if Christophe had to guess, but not exactly a family car either.

When Christophe slammed the trunk closed, this seemed to finally catch the stranger's attention, scowling at Christophe in annoyance because he'd been a little too rough with their car. Christophe stared back, daring the other to say something. Eleven fuckin' hours without a god damn smoke in economy class seating, Christophe was not in the mood and was just looking for a fight at this point.

"Ah, my apologies, I got so distracted trying to catch up, I forgot to introduce you two. Christophe, this is Wendyl, Wendyl, this is my co-working, Christophe." Gregory seemed to catch onto the tension and smoothly interjected to cleanly break it.

"Christophe?" Wendyl looked over to Gregory as if trying to gain further information but Gregory provided none. However, Wendyl seemed to be smart enough to start connecting the dots as he turned his gaze back to Christophe. "As I recall, you were the one who failed to save Terrance and Phillip when we were kids. Stan mentioned it a while back, but Kyle doesn't talk much about it."

"I failed?!" Christophe fired off, slamming his fist on the trunk, causing it to dent before Christophe moved around the car towards Wendyl, or Wendy, whichever they decided to call themselves now days. He'd never met them, but when they were kids, Stan hadn't shut up about her at the time. To think that people thought he was to blame for what happened back then, when it wasn't even his fight to begin with? He'd died because of the incompetence of those three other boys, it was an insult to his very name.

"Christophe, that was a long time ago, as adults, we forgive what was done as children and move on." Gregory tried to appease for once, he knew Christophe's death had been a serious, traumatic event. For both of them.

"Fuck off, Gregory." Christophe turned his seething glare onto Gregory, infuriated that he'd bring someone from that God forsaken town here, after everything they'd done to the both of them. He didn't care about the warning look on Gregory's face, Christophe would not stand for this, he'd done so many things for Gregory, but not this, Not ever. "Fuck all, I'm out. Don't even fuckin' think about crawling to me cryin' because some salope broke your pathetic heart again." Christophe waved off, dismissing the both of them and turning on his heel before either one of them could retort.

He needed a cigarette, needed to calm his nerves and stay away from anyone that even seemed familiar in this country. Eventually, he'd return to Gregory, he always did, but he needed space. He walked. And walked. With no direction in mind, just needed to move, to get as much distance as he could from Gregory. The betrayal was still raw, as if it all happened yesterday. Gregory might be able to forgive and forget, but the scars on Christophe's body would never allow him to forget. He could remember the way Gregory had looked at him that day, a sign of weakness, one Christophe had never seen again in their years together. Whatever humanity Gregory had left had been destroyed that day, all because of the people from South Park.

Christophe enter a convenience store, blindly searching for the nearest place to buy a pack of cigarettes. Of course, he used Gregory's card, the asshole owed him a pack for his troubles anyways. Christophe was all too eager to get outside so he could at least calm his addiction down. Tossing the plastic wrap in a nearby bin, he tore into the pack for a fresh cigarette, using the cheap lighter he'd bought, he lit the tip. The tip flared as Christophe sucked at the cigarette, trying to get that fix to calm his nerves.

"Hankerin' for a smoke that badly, huh?" A voice interrupted his moment of bliss, lowering his brows and glaring a warning at the man beside him. Tall, messy blond hair, looked more like a homeless person than anything. However, Christophe didn't look much better most days, so he wasn't one to judge. "Mind if I bum one off ya?"

Annoyed, he studying the other male, appeared to be his age, blue eyed with a cocky grin. Something was off about him though, so Christophe humored him for the time being. He tapped the bottom of the pack, sending a cigarette up through the slot in the top before offering it to the homeless man. The blond took it with a little laugh, placing the cigarette between his lips, leaning forward to allow Christophe to light it for him.

"Thanks bunches, Chris."

"If you know my name then you know that you should probably get the hell away from me."

"C'mon, we're practically close buddies. What's a lil' death between friends, right?"

Christophe raised a brow and pulled heavily on his cigarette as he reassessed the man beside him, not a lot of people knew about his death. Only the three boys did and he was certain this was not one of those boys. "Since you know my name, its only fair if you give me yours."

"We both know nothing in this hell hole is fair. Buuut..." The blond seemed to grin, too optimistic, perhaps a little crazy. Or maybe that's what he wanted people to think, he'd seen those types before. People won't look closely into someone if they were someone they didn't want to be around. Overly optimistic people, homeless, acting a little odd, all signs that the average person would avoid. "I guess I owe it to ya', since we didn't get to properly meet last time. You can call me Kenny and I'm here to help you on your little mission."

So it appeared Kenny was a well informed man and that alone was enough to warrant Christophe's caution. People who had too much information were dangerous and nobody in the world helped others from the kindness of their hearts. They were always trying to gain something for themselves, Christophe was no exception either.

"What's in it for you?"

"Well, I've always fancied myself as a kind of super hero. One for justice and all. But I take it you won't be satisfied with that answer, huh?" Christophe gave a slight shake of his head, only idiots thought themselves as superheroes. "I'm doing it to save a couple people I love. You know how people do anything for that, yeah? Pluuus." Kenny went on, leaning a little closer to Christophe, he could smell old clothes but underneath there was a hint of expensive perfume. Likely to be missed by the untrained, but Christophe had his senses on high alert always. It was part of his job to collect information, who knew when it might be vital to the mission.

"I can get you all the information you need."

"Why do you need me then?" Christophe flicked a bit of ash of the tip of his cigarette, it all seemed too convent for his liking.

"This job requires more than one person to complete. Its far too big for me to handle on my own. And, as you well know, I can't really rely on my dumbass childhood friends to help me. They don't have the necessary requirements to see this job through."

Christophe considered it, Kenny was right, it wasn't often one came across someone who had the abilities like Christophe did. However, if Kenny knew about him, about the mission, he'd also know about Gregory. So why not approach the Brit instead? Gregory was the planner, Christophe was simply the worker.

"You know I only take orders from Gregory. If you want me to do something, go talk to that asshole."

"Nah, I don't like talkin' to the Man in charge, I prefer one on one with the little guys. More comfortable for me that way." Kenny dug around in his worn out second hand pockets, pulling out a crumbled up bit of paper. "Here, this is my phone number. If you need anything give me a ring, maybe I'll let you buy me a drink sometime too." Kenny gave him a wink before snuffing out his cigarette on the top of a trash can before disposing it into the cigarette disposal.

"Like hell." Christophe grumbled a reply, looking down at the paper pressed into his hand. Well, it was a start and he'd tell Gregory about the encounter later. Right now he was still being pissed at the man and going back would only result in getting punished for the way he'd acted. He wasn't really looking forward to that right now, so he might as well investigate Denver a little before heading to the hotel. He watched as Kenny waved at him before crossing the street, Christophe didn't bother to return it. He'd never been the friendly sort.

[rachelbethhines]

The Antoine and Bunnie Retrospective - 168

“Blackout” - Sonic the Hedgehog #207 

So way back in issue #110, Robotropolis was nuked by Station Square. Now I didn’t cover that story in the retrospective, but since then the city has been kept under a containment field and New Mobotropolis has been using the radiation as a source of power. 

As such the Iron King gets the idea to break the shield thereby draining  New Mobotropolis of it’s power and bringing it’s automated defenses down. 

But first he has to get through Sonic, Monkey Khan, and Amadeus Prower.

 If you remember from the Home arc, the fort guarding Robotropolis was Armand’s last command post before he died. And I kind of love this idea that literally everyone loved Armand. That regardless of what political sides they wound up on or what disagreements they might of had, no one had a bad thing to say about him. That Max and Amadeus were both his best friends right up until his death. Kind of telling that the revolution didn’t start until after he had pasted away.

Also on a side note, I’ve been reassessing my opinion of Amadeus recently. Before I had just lumped him in with Rosemary and kind of conflated her actions with his and that’s not really fair. Don’t get me wrong Rosemary is still a horrible person who could die in a fire for all I care, but re-reading through the series again I’ve notice that Amadeus is a pretty decent dude. He’s no Armand, or Jules, or even a Wynmacher but he is still genuine in his beliefs, makes actual good points concerning his grievances towards the crown, and is actually there for and supportive of his son. 

Good job Amadeus you manage to be better then Max, Locke, or even your wife. Not that that’s hard but given this book I’ll take it. 

But enough waffling about let’s get back to our main characters. 

While the above mentioned characters are off saving the day Sally drops in to visit Bunnie and Ant. 

*squee!* We get to see their home! And it’s clear that Bunnie is the interior decorator. I can’t say the Southwestern thing is my style but I do love that awesome dreamcatcher. This is the only room we actually see though so it’s possible Ant got a say elsewhere. Like perhaps the is bedroom in a Rococo style? While you know damn well he’s the one who organized the kitchen even if Bunnie may have picked out the silverware.    

Also fan theory confirmed  Bunnie is clearly reading a gossip/fashion magazine while recovering. 

Cuuuute! And it’s shows that yes there are little things about Ant, like his over-protectiveness, that annoy Bunnie, but she knows it comes from a place of love so she can’t get mad about it. Which is just sweet. 

Fucking thank you! Finally we get some female friendship moments in the comic! As much as I love Bunnie and Ant’s relationship it often comes at the expense of their other relationships and they both could stand to be integrated into the rest of the cast more. 

But the other problem here is the Sally doesn’t have enough of a support system. Part of this is her own fault for not opening up to others easily, part of it Max’s abuse cutting her off from her friends, but a good chunk of it is the writers just forgetting that the characters have friendships and lives outside of Sonic and romances. 

Also small confession; this is one of the main reasons why I don’t support Sallicole in the reboot. Neither Sally nor Nicole have any other close relationships with any of the other female characters post-reboot. Why should I have to sacrifice my w/w solidarity in order to see LGBT representation? Why can’t I have both? Why can’t the comic show Sally as Bunnie or Amy’s BFF and let Nicole talk to someone else for a change?

And this a frustration I have in much of the media I consume simply because there’s not enough female characters. Far too often any given show, movie, book or what-have-you will only feature two main girls and if you happen to ship those two together you can say bye-bye to any female friendships. Like please just add more women into stories for fucks sake. 

Anyways enough getting sidetracked, the whole reason Sally is here is to ask for relationship advice since a.) Bunnie is her BFF and b) Bunnie and Ant are like the only friends she knows with a successful love life. I honestly think the only other couples not torn to shreds right now are Knuckles/Julie-Su and Elias/Meg. 

But who is Sally crushing on you may ask? 

Monkey Khan. 

Yeah seriously. Up til now it’s been so subtle and shoved into the background that this story almost feels out of nowhere. Maybe if Flynn had actually committed to following through with it, I might be more favorable to the pairing, but after this tease it doesn’t really go anywhere and they’re right back to teasing Sonally again. Even though the Sega mandates had forbidden their love by this point. 

Also Bunnie, what do you actually know about dating? Antoine is the only person you’ve ever seriously been with and the “break up” with him wasn’t even a real. To which you’re response was to mope about and the try and make him jealous by flirting with Sonic. Not what you'd really call dating around. 

I love you both but, honey you and Antoine seriously lucked out on the whole finding your soulmate thing really early in life. 

Anyways Bunnie proceeds to describe Sally’s “type” while juxtaposed with scenes of Sonic and Ken fighting. Highlighting just how much of a rebound guy Khan really is. He’s a substitute Sonic in this relationship and you know that’s just a disservice to all parties involved.  

To Monkey Khan because he deserves better then to be yet another a sonic clone and this undermines a lot of development Flynn had given him recently. 

To Sally because she deserves more then to be saddled with yet another dead end relationship that only ends because of the powers that be decided to fuck with her character. 

And to Sonic, who deserves to be more then a prop for love triangles just cause he’s the title character and Sega has a bunch of stupid mandates. 

Still, at least there’s more honest communication going on with this triangle then the ones that came before and I appreciate this talk with Bunnie even if I don’t like the circumstances that brought it about.   

Also this is the best advice Bunnie has given her during this whole scene because it’s born from actual experience. How many years did she crush on Ant before admitting she liked him, three? If you want something then take a chance. You may not get it but if you don’t try how will you ever know? 

In conclusion Sonic and Ken trick the Iron King, Sally asks Khan out, and we get a wired ship tease of Sonamy. Flynn does remember that she’s only 12 right? 

Oh well they are actual friends here so you could take this as platonic. 

Next time on the retrospective we finally get to the invasion proper.