#all I need are traumatized boys in striped shirts

[angelswim64]

I love the mother protags so much omg

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Fated by the Stars (7)

Straykids ot8 x Reader

Warnings - Mentions of Abuse, Mentions of Wounds/Injuries Traumatic Past, Violence, and Mentions of Non-consensual Molesting. Swearing

Summary - The boys are busy, so they invite over a friend of theirs. This friend makes sure to help you look beautiful for the party tonight. No way you new omegan best friend would let you go not looking like an absolute goddess.

Masterlist

Today Jisung and Minho were taking me to Jisungs fashion studio. Since both of them had the most knowledge when it came to fashion, they had taken the lead over my outfit for the company's coming together party. When we got to his studio, that had me stand on a podium in the middle of the room. Minho sat in a chair off to the side, next to him on the table was a suit for each of the pack mates. They were trying to pair my dress with their suits, so we looked similar like a pack but everyone still had their own style. The common color among the boys was each suit was many black, but they each suit had something colored in a bright red. That color would them match them with my dress.

Today I would get to find out what my dress was supposed to look like as they had finally finished it. So I was gonna get to put it on and they would pin where they need to make some adjustments to better fit me the way they wanted it to.

Chan's suit was just the pants, shoes, and the coat. He liked to wear his suits without a shirt and tie. The less he had to wear the happier and more comfortable he would be. The buttons on his suit would match my dress color. Minho had a classic suit style where it was longer on the back of the coat. He had a handkerchief in his pocket that matched my dress. Hyunjin would wear a pin stripe suit, the stripes being the same color as my dress. Felix would wear a regular black suit except he wore a turtle neck under his coat, the color being the same as my Dress. Changbin would wear a typical suit as well, except he would not be wearing the coat part, just the regular white button up and tie. The tie had a red love heart on it. Jisung also wore a regular suit and tie, however the cuffs and bottom of the jacket were adorned with red lace decor. Seungmin wore the full typical suit style, he was the only one who had the waist coat as a part of his outfit. His waist coat was the same red as my dress. Finally Jeongin, wore nearly the same outfit as Chan, except his coat was mainly red with black lace detailing all over the main part of the coat.

Jisung opened a small closet, pulling out a dress covered from view by a black plastic cover. He pulled off the cover and handed me the dress. The two looked away allowing me privacy to take off the hoodie and shorts I wore, replacing it with the dress.

I smiled seeing the dark red sequin dress. It had a deep v neck, and was double slit around my legs. When I stop still it seemed like a regular red aline dress. However when I would walk, both my legs would pop out and be visible at times. This dress almost hugged me in all the right places. The places that didn't would eventually hug me as that was why I was here today. Jisung was finally going to finish my dress so everyone was finally ready for the party in two days.

The boys turned around both smiling seeing me all dressed up. Jisung got to work right away with pins already sitting between his lips, only pulling one out to pin pieces tighter against me. Minho on the other hand, took this opportunity to distract me.

His hands ran along my arms to my shoulders as he stood directly behind me. I could feel his breath on my necks he sensually rubbed up and down my arms. It felt great making my omega preen as her alpha gave her his love. However once he began kissing at my neck, I could feel myself slowly dropping. My omega tried her best to come forward, but now was not the time. I tried to fight my drop.

Finally Jisung had finished, whispering to me from in front. I was now sensually sandwiched between the two boys. "It's okay to drop now 'mega. Let us spoil you with our love. You earned it." I nodded and let go. My mid becoming fuzzy and hazy with the boys. They slowly begin to undress me, Jisung taking it and putting it away in the closet. When he returned he had my hoodie and shorts. Placing them back on me as they continued to kiss and caress my through out our shared moment.

Once I had been clothed, Minho turned me around and picked me up. Wrapping my legs around his torso and holding me by my legs. Together we left the building, returning to the car. Jisung sat in the passenger seat and Minho placed me in his lap. While Minho drove us home, Jisung slowly rubbed circles into my back, lulling me into a nice mid afternoon nap.

A glance at the clock told me it was currently 3pm, this left me with 3 more hours before we would leave for the company ball. The boys were all currently running around getting thing handled before they could get ready themselves. Being the hosts of the party they still had a lot to finish and make sure got done. Someone knocked on my door and I yelled they could come in. Looking over I saw Chan peek his head inside. "Hey sweetie, I have someone for you to meet." Opening the door he brought in a smaller male, I could smell that this male was an omega like me. "His name is Wooyoung, He's a friend of Changbin and Jisung. We thought you could use a friend who is also an omega today. So Wooyoung here is going to take you with him and one of his mates to get ready for the ball." Wooyoung waved at me. I smiled and waved back before quickly getting my things put away. "Okay! I'll be ready to go in a moment then!" Chan left probably to go finish up some more things. Wooyoung walked in a little closer and started to chat as I grabbed some thing I thought I might need. "It's nice to finally meet you y/n! Changbin and Jisung both talk about you all the time." I smiled. "I'm glad to meet another omega myself, may I ask how you know those two?"

Wooyoung nodded and began to explain while I slipped on some shoes. "Well Changbin and I grew up in the same neighborhood, we hit it off well and have been friends ever since. When we found most of our mates at the same time, we both got super excited but also overwhelmed. We found and escape in venting to each other so our bond has been able to stay strong. Jisung is different. He and I joined Minho's company at the same time, we both were dreaming to be designers. One day Jisung came up with the idea of working together to do something different. We could design clothing lines for each sub gender but have them release together during the seasons. Typically there was an alpha clothing season, Beta season and Omega Season. Since one designer would only be able to handle designing for one gender every few months. It was a few months into our success when I realized he was a pack mate of Changbin and from then on my pack and your pack have been close friends." Finally I had the shoes on and we began to walk out the door.

"Will I get to meet your pack today as well?" Wooyoung smiled while helping me I not his car. "Yep! We just didn't want to overwhelm you immediately, So I will help you get ready for the ball and then you an meet them when we get there!" I nodded and he hopped in the drivers seat. Pulling out of the driveway we were off to our first stop.

We pulled up to a hair salon, Wooyoung helped me out and inside. The beta lady smiled seeing us both, "Hey Woo, is this the levanter pack omega!" Wooyoung nodded. "Yep it sure is, I have been told by the pack that she had a rough start to life, so it's up to you what to do with the hair and make up." She squealed. "Well hello darlin' My name is Charlie and I just love it when I get to choose the hair and makeup, Don't you worry darlin'! I'm gonna make you so beautiful your pack won't know what to do!" She quickly hopped over to a chair pulling it around for me. I sat down and she placed this plastic bib like thing over me.

"Woo, what's her dress look like so I make sure to match the vibe?" She asked, Wooyoung came over with his phone showing her a picture. She squealed once again before playing with my hair a little.

"Alright girlie! I have the perfect idea. just spare me some time to work my magic." And with that she got to work on my hair first. She rolled me over to give my hair a wash. Scrubbing different soap int my hair before rinsing. As she took a dryer to my hair, we watched as it began to curl on its own. "You just have the best hair girlie"

Finally it was dryer and she began to loosely braid my hair back to the middle of my head. The braid on each side shaped as if they were part of a flower crown on my head. She curled up some of the part that stayed down. It was quite a beautiful half up do hairstyle. Next she brought over all her make up. First she used her foundation and such to even out my skin tone. Then brought back some of that natural redness with the blush. Next she focused on my eyes, swiping the cat eye style liner. She applied red eye shadow as a base then gradient that into black glittery eyeshadow. Finishing by giving me rose red lipstick.

Looking at myself, I felt beautiful even with the random hoodie and shorts I had on. Charlie spun me around and I was now looking at Wooyoung who stood there. When he saw me, he was suddenly awestruck. "Well if this is how she looks without the dress on then we are gonna be seeing 8 dead men tonight. Cause you are stunning y/n!" I blushed and looked away shyly.

Charlie gave me a small side hug, but Wooyoung quickly said goodbye and we were off again. This time we went straight to the fashion studio to pick up my dress and accessories. "Okay, so first I'll help you get in the dress. Jisung has given me full reign over your shoe choice and accessories. So I already pulled out some options and I'll give you what looks the best with you." I nodded "Okay, can't wait to see the final look. I'm excited to feel pretty." Wooyoung scoffed chuckling a little. "Oh you sweet innocent thing. You will not be looking pretty, You are gonna be drop dead gorgeous. Like the fucking moon goddess!" I giggled. "okay I trust you."

Finally we pull up to the building. While walking in, I was once again fascinated by the beautiful architecture on the inside. Beautiful art lined the hallways, must be to help inspire those with artist block. We entered a different room, this must me Wooyoungs. He handed me my dress, "Let me know when you ready for to tie it up for you."

I nodded and he turned around allowing me some privacy to change. It took me a second to get everything off and get into the dress. To make this dress look as pretty as it could, I had to be braless. But I wore some red lace underwear just because I was feeling extra confident today. Wooyoung came over when I told him I was ready. He pulled the strings to tighten it up, making sure it hugged me perfectly before finishing tying it. I smiled seeing myself in the mirror. Wooyoung had me sit down so he could help me put on the heels. They were these glittery red block heels that gave me an extra 4 inches of height. The straps of these heels wrapped up my calves about half way to the knee.

Next he handed me this small sparkly red clutch with a silver chain strap. He helped me put in some ruby red teardrop earrings, that pried with the silver chain necklace that also had a red teardrop ruby.

Finally he let me stand back up and look in the mirror. Now was my turn to be starstruck, I looked and felt gorgeous like woo young said. I glanced over to Wooyoung, "You were right, I feel gorgeous." He chuckled. "told you y/n. Now give me a minute to change and we can head out." I smiled and nodded. Pulling out my phone, I sent a quick text to my pack. 'I can't wait to show you my outfit, I think you guys will really like it.' Feeling this gorgeous had given me a new sense of confidence when messaging the boys. They were quick to reply back, the youngest wanting nothing more than to see me right now, while the eldest held back wanting to enjoy the surprise.

When woo young came back, He looked even more handsome than I thought possible. "You look fantastic Woo!" He blushed a little before quickly replying back. "Well no one is beating your beauty tonight y/n, I'm excited to see those idiots on their knees for you sweet thing." I giggled.

Once he had cleaned up his room, we began to head back out to the car. This was gonna be great. "hey Woo? Mind if I put on a song?" Looking to me with a smile, he simply told me. "Be my guest gorgeous." I smiled and connected my phone and quickly played the song. "Oh this is perfect for this moment y/n!" I smiled and we began to sing along as 'Spicy Margarita' by Jason Derulo and Michael Bublé played in the background.

[dribs-and-drabbles]

When I said I may have just found my new hyperfixation I was wrong. I have definitely found it. I am obsessed. I am 'I woke up at 4:30 for an hour and a half thinking about it' obsessed already. And I'm in love with all this theorising already. Blessed. We're blessed.

Apropos not being able to distinguish colours, I think the lighting (is that the cinematographer's job?) and the background noise/colours play a big part in subverting what we think we're seeing. Not to make this about Bad Buddy again (sorry!...okay not sorry 🤷🏽‍♀️) but I'm reminded of Pran's stripy shirt at the end of ep 8. Are the stripes Blue, Green, or Black???

So maybe we need to add to that list of things we should never trust when it comes to QLs: Never trust the colours of the character's clothes.

"What if King has loved Uea for a VERY LONG TIME? Like since they were kids and got separated due to Uea's effed up mother?"

Got separated, you say? Like maybe his mother made them move away? (Ignore the horrors in the foreground and spot the bags and moving boxes...)

I ADORE this theory and I was already all 'who is this boy and is he significant 👀?!?' with that flashback but I would LOVE it to be King (I guess he must have changed his name). Also, to counter @wen-kexing-apologist's reasoning that Uea says he and King 'first met' in the bar -> what if they didn't recognise each other at first? Or maybe King did and was going to ask if he was correct in recognising it was Uea but got interrupted? So many possibilities for them to have become estranged but for King to have been pining for him for years. THE TIN HAT IS ON!

Anyway, I also love the possibility that King's black is indicating that he's hiding something - whether that's a traumatic past, his years-long pining for Uea, or just his own feelings whilst he's a playboy - and I'm so invested in seeing where this show will take me and us.

I'm just going to leave you with this little nugget. The day after The Night Before, Uea looks to be wearing a heart-shaped black necklace. I've looked through the trailer and can't see that he wears it again but I love the detail!

Oh.

Oh no.

I just watched the first episode of Bed Friend.

I may have just found my new hyperfixation. How does it go?...I've had Uea for less than an hour but I will protect him with my life... And King. DAMN where has Net been my whole QL-watching life (coming up to my second anniversary!)?!? I am looking disrespectfully. I MEAN RESPECTFULLY. I am looking respectfully. *ahem* I love the vibes of the colleagues but I'm a little concerned that the boss might be a bit handsy which...for me feels like the colleagues should be protecting each other not letting poor Jade go into the lion's den (I mean, they should be reporting him to HR but this is a QL fantasy world so that doesn't seem to really exist).

And the colours! @respectthepetty -> why a blue boy when so much black???

But is it that, when Uea starts to fall in love with King (because, let's be honest, it seems like King is already there) and they become more than friends with benefits, King will remove the brooding, pining, devoid-of-colour black and become his true blue self?

Because even though the start and end credits might have King in black, the poster has him in blue... And that's perhaps why, when Uea and King first slept together, they were both in blue -> King showing his true feelings and Uea's subconscious attraction for King showing through his drunken haze...???

I like this show already. And I like it despite my brain being ambushed with reminders of Pat and Pran...I mean, how can I NOT think of Bad Buddy with lines like, "Do you want to be my friend?" and "The one who develops feelings first will lose", and then the actor who plays Pran's father shows up in the opening credits. I mean, come on! 🤷🏽‍♀️

@grapejuicegay Have you seen this yet? Is it on your radar? I think I need you to watch it with me too! @casualavocados and @markpakin too! 💖😏

[missroserose]

deleted scene time, babes

yep, I am back on my bullshit (also known as editing Act III of When The Waters Start To Cross), and I had this whole damn sex scene written out, and I kind of love it, and...I think it's going to end up on the cutting room floor.

but, I mean, this is some primo hurt/comfort smut, which seems a shame to waste. So I figure I'll share it here with all of you.

for context: this is the scene directly following the end of Act II, where Steve rescues Billy from something in the forest. We've switched to Steve's POV, and he's not quite sure what happened; Billy's being tightlipped about it, but clearly it's traumatic. Steve's done his best to patch up Billy's wounds and reassure him that he's safe, and Billy has finally succumbed to the stress of the past few hours and broken down on Steve's bathroom countertop...

It’s both a few minutes and a lifetime before he quiets, still sniffling. Steve reaches over, grabs a couple of tissues from the box on the counter, turns away and busies himself—putting away the gauze, throwing out the boxes, unfolding and refolding clothes—for a moment as Billy blows his nose, collects himself.

When he turns back, Billy’s picked up the scissors, examining them. The steel blades glint in the bathroom light, sharp point looking suddenly wicked. Steve suppresses a shiver, holds out his clothes. “Here, trade you. These should fit if you need something to sleep in.”

Billy hesitates for a moment, but he hands over the scissors, taking the old shirt and sweatpants. “I can’t stay on your couch forever,” he says, though the words are quiet, tinged with hopelessness.

“Absolutely not,” Steve says, putting the scissors in their basket and shutting it firmly. “You’ll sleep in the guest room.” Billy looks up sharply, the sudden set of his jaw indicating that he’s planning to argue—but Steve just gives him a big smile and takes him by the hand, tugging him off the counter. Takes him across the hall, into the guest room, done in a blue and white that’s impersonal but not unpleasant (thank god my parents’ decorator wasn’t into ruffles, he thinks)—turns down the striped comforter, turns to Billy—

Billy’s lips are on his before he can speak, heated fingers sliding up and around the back of his neck. Steve makes a small sound, surprise and concern and desire—but the kiss only deepens, and he surrenders to it, lets the fire of it catch beneath his skin. When Billy breaks off, panting, eyes dark on his, Steve only stares at him, speechless. ”Billy—it’s not like that—you don’t have to—“

Billy places a hand on his chest, presses him back until he sits on the bed, the sensation suddenly gone from his legs. “Want to,” he says, and presses forward onto his knees, straddling Steve’s lap, still shirtless, a fact of which Steve is abruptly aware as they’re kissing again, tongues and lips and skin against skin as Billy tugs his t-shirt up and off. It’s hot, and messy, and glorious—the way Billy hisses a little as Steve’s hands slide over his bruised ribs, the way Steve’s own breath rattles as Billy’s fingers slide into his hair. “You’re such a pretty boy,” he murmurs when they break away, in a way that slips an ice cube of recognition beneath Steve’s ribs—but it melts almost immediately beneath the feel of Billy’s fingers tracing down his skin, the passionately reverent way Billy touches him. “Want to pull you apart—” the words are almost mumbled, like Billy’s shy, though surely that can’t be right.

“Fucking hell, Billy—” Steve avoids touching his hair this time, puts his hands on Billy’s bare shoulders, marvels at the way the muscles move beneath the skin when he slides down to kneel on the floor, undoing Steve’s fly as he goes. “Do it,” he says, voice half-ragged. “Fuck yes, do it.”

It’s barely a moment more before Billy his a hand around his length, is drawing him out of his pants. Steve feels his lips part as he takes in the sight of Billy there beneath him, lips brushing the head of his cock—he shivers, sensation, anticipation, clings to this moment with both hands as he draws in a breath—

Billy’s mouth is wet, and soft, and heated as if by a whole furnace of its own. Steve makes an undignified noise, loses his grip as the desire floods him, tumbles him forward. Billy takes him in, further, further, and Steve is panting, wanting, barely keeping afloat—Billy takes hold of his hand, slips it into his hair, and Steve tightens instinctively, a buoy in the wild ocean—Billy takes him in even further, until he can feel the back of his throat—glances up at him, eyes liquid, and Steve barely has time for a breath before another wave of oh fuck yes slams into him—

Billy’s moving now, up and down along Steve’s length, tongue tracing patterns along the underside, slipping beneath the head, soft flat wetness pressing at his frenum before sliding back down. Some small part of Steve is observing distantly, noticing things he does, making plans for things he might want to try in the future—but the bulk of him is at Billy’s mercy, surrendering to the waves—Billy’s fingers are pressed into his hips now, holding him firmly in place, as if Steve’s liable to float away if he doesn’t. Steve keeps his hand on the back of Billy’s head, focuses on moving with it, keeping his grip just tight enough to stay centered but loose enough to let Billy have the reins. “God, you’re amazing at this, Billy—” The words sound insipid even to his ears, the sort of thing you’d say to a hesitant girl, and he casts about, tries to find something more solid to grab onto. Tightens his fingers in Billy’s hair, half-hears, half-feels the groan Billy makes deep in his throat. “You’re mine, do you understand me? You’re under my protection. Nothing’s going to take you away—” Another surge as Billy looks up at him, desire tinged with anger tinged with—fear?—and Steve’s words are suddenly urgent, their meaning dire. “I mean it, Billy—if I have to come and find you in Hell, I’ll do it—come and pull you out of there and keep you with me—”

Billy makes another sound, desperation of his own, and redoubles his efforts; it’s barely a minute before Steve is gasping, fingers tightening, voice cracking as he gasps out a warning, words smearing together, bare seconds elongating—“Fuck, I’m gonna—”

Billy takes him deep. Steve cries out like he’s in pain; he nearly is, the sensation is so intense as his body pours everything out and into Billy’s mouth. He feels Billy’s throat work around him as he swallows, curls his body around Billy’s head, half protective, half drawn in by sheer gravity.

A panting breath. Another. Three. The wave recedes, and Steve feels a curl of uncertainty deep in his gut; what’s the etiquette? Should he offer to return the favor? For the moment, his confidence seems to have deserted him; he straightens a little, raises his eyes.

Billy is watching him, eyes molten in a way that warms Steve from his core. He leans forward, kisses him, tastes the mineral tang of himself on Billy’s tongue—a heady mixture, something Steve could imagine becoming addicted to.

Billy places a hand against Steve’s chest and pushes him back onto the bed. Steve goes willingly, their eyes locked—in challenge, in cooperation—as Billy clambers up, straddles him, undoes his jeans. Steve wants to touch him, is almost afraid to; there’s something feral about him tonight, the grace and desperation of a wounded animal, fighting for—its life? Its sanity, maybe. Billy takes his length out of his briefs, gives a tug, another, hard enough that Steve wonders if that can even be comfortable—his eyes flick down, uncertain if he should offer to help, then back up to where Billy’s still watching him, smoky—Billy’s tugs become rhythmic as he stares at Steve with intent—

“Do it,” Steve says again, that deep confidence welling up within him once more. Slides his hands up Billy’s flanks, presses fingers into the flesh of his ass. Billy’s lips part, almost as if he’s going to say something, but his instead his strokes grow, faster, harder, ragged breaths in a ragged throat (wrecked by Steve’s cock, and fuck if that isn’t the hottest thing Steve can imagine), and Steve can feel his own breaths coming in concert, can feel his body trying to get hard again despite just having come. Billy’s focus is on him, heat laser-intense as a flush rises up his chest, his throat, his cheeks; then, without warning, he seems to almost choke, throws his head back, and in that bare second before the spurts of hot liquid land on his chest, Steve thinks he���s never seen anything so wild or so beautiful—

[lesbianrobin]

hello em i have a request. can u please rate mr harrington's looks/outfits i just feel like u have the best takes and i'd LOVE to know how you'd rank his choices 👀

this is the single greatest ask i’ve ever received. i will be ranking the outfits, not steve’s moral alignment or actions in each scene. in order of appearance:

The Introduction

4/10

hair is tragic

steve copied this entire fit from a mannequin in the ralph lauren polo outlet store

would honestly be a 0/10 except for the obvious valiant effort being put forth by his lower half to resist the sexless curse of khaki pants. the devil (st costuming department) works hard but by god steve harrington (joe keery’s body) works harder

nice brown watch that certainly came from a department store

also gains points for being next to nancy’s anemic librarian fit, thus looking better by comparison

The Rich Bitch

8/10

thank god he ditched the khakis

hair looks much less demonic

it’s a simple look but the sweatshirt rides up when he shotguns the beer

he also gets wet

solid 8 for sluttiness alone

The Whore

10/10

wet

please note that his chest is waxed. keep this in mind.

The Heterosexual

2/10

hair looks like he dipped his head in glue

bold choice with the grey pants. unfortunately that choice was wrong

matching outfits with your comphet girlfriend isn’t as cute as you think it is stevie

you only get points because despite that ungodly pastel stripe pattern the polo’s decently fitted and makes your arm look kinda nice

The Dickhead

3/10

glue head pt. 2

at least the stripes aren’t pastel this time

The Cuck

6/10

hair slightly less glue-y

yet another striped polo is peeking out unfortunately

but! it’s green and green looks good on him

finally wearing jeans like a normal fucking human instead of weird slacks

pivotal moment in steve’s fashion evolution from preppy male model to sexy morally upright king

his morals are stored in the denim

The Final Girl

9/10

an outfit with a character arc to rival steve’s own

pretty fucking good hair if i do say so myself!!

it’s fluffy!

that shit looks like if you touched it it’d be soft... no glue here!

finally not copying from the goddamn l.l. bean catalog

iconic green slut sweatshirt? check! jacket and nikes? check! fucked-up gorgeous face and baseball bat full of rusty nails? check, baby!

looks good on its own OR with some blood on top

overall a very solid look

The Darling Little Drummer Boy

7/10

babe no... please don’t go back to the khakis... they won’t treat you like jeans do...

not quite glue head but not his best

apparently steve owns a single green sweatshirt, a thousand striped polos, and one very precious christmas sweater

almost makes up for prep-related khaki crimes by being really fucking cute

The Simp

8/10

glue head is DEAD

further evidence that steve harrington’s entire closet is just striped polos

this is his fifth unique striped polo

most of these points are for the sunglasses and the hair

actually all of these points are for the sunglasses and the hair

he’s finally let go of the fucking pastels thank jesus

and you can’t see it but he did wear jeans with this fit i just forgot to make sure they were pictured and it’s 4:15 am so i don’t feel like going back to remake this collage

cannot tell if this is a lighter blue version of the jacket he wore three times in s1 or if it IS the jacket he wore three times in s1 and the color grading is just that different

either way he loves jackets and i think that’s very sexy of him

The Intellectual

9/10

i’ve been waiting for this one... turn it up!

literally invented vests

excellent hair

loses a point for unfortunately introducing steve’s SIXTH unique striped fucking polo

i can’t see the collar but i know it’s there i know you’re wearing another fucking polo steve you can’t hide from me

can’t decide if he looks gay or just really preppy but either way he’s got some repression going on

still a very solid look

The Oh No Oh God It Hurts I’m Looking Away I Can’t Watch This

10/10

yes that middle picture is absolutely to show off the texture of his blazer and not at all me making sure that if i have to see his heartbroken little face then you all do too

anyways i Know that blazer cost at least $100 like i Know that shit’s expensive

excellent gorgeous soft-looking hair that someone ought to run their hands through but only people who haven’t dated him for a year while pining after someone else

emotional devastation... but make it unbelievably fucking sexy

stevie baby i know you’re a colorful guy but please wear more black

The Meathead Jock

9/10

aw christ whatever happened to standards?

introduction of the blue nikes <3

god his hair looked fucking good here

could have gained that final point by using tube socks with blue and GREEN stripes to tie together the shoes and the gym uniform :/

shorts could be shorter but are an altogether appropriate and enjoyable length

fun sweatstain to customize the look <3

The (is there a word for victim of bullying?) Serious Athlete

8/10

the yellow stripe was more fun

still cute though

The Sudsy Boy

11/10

wet

suds indicate that he’s washing his hair, presumably with faberge organics. is this why he’s being bullied?

steve brings his faberge organics shampoo and conditioner and his farrah fawcett spray to school with him whenever he has basketball practice

steve either has shampoo, conditioner, and hairspray in his backpack at all times, or he has a separate gym bag that’s mostly haircare products

just need to make sure we all know that

excellent freckle showcase

his chest is still waxed. please, i beg, keep this in mind

one of his strongest looks

The Babysitter

10/10

his most versatile look to date

a different jacket than the one(s) he’s worn before but it still has the same kind of collar. steve found a jacket he liked and bought it in at least three colors

the whole thing fits So fucking nicely! shirt, jacket, jeans... baby boy is TAILORED

return of the white nikes with the red check indicate that they are his fashion nikes, while the blue nikes with the white check are his sport nikes. interesting.

this fit lasts like 48 hours and steve simply looks sexier as time goes on which is a testament to its quality as well as his inherent power

every new accessory elevates his appearance. roses, nail bat, rubber gloves, blood, sweat, band-aids, bandana, goggles... each element complements the look in its own way!

an overall win

The Chauffeur

8/10

we can’t really see the whole fit but he’s not wearing a striped polo so i’m calling it a win regardless of what’s on his bottom half

cannot give him a 10/10 though because he might be wearing khakis

red is such a nice color on him when it’s not just from his blood

i lied when i said he should wear more black he should wear more colors

that plain sweater absolutely cost $85 or more

hair looks very nice and soft

excellent look!

The Sailor Man

9/10

very precious

absolutely the best hair i’ve ever seen

baby boy got highlights for his hot girl summer!

bright colors make his very red lips pop

shorts could be shorter

love the little accents! especially the white pockets and belt

excellent color coordination on steve’s part with the blue sneakers (notably different than his s2 blue basketball nikes) and the red bruising/blood

i hope you remembered that steve’s chest was waxed. as you can see his chest is now unwaxed. some change between s2 and s3 drove this decision, presumably either his breakup with nancy or the fact that he no longer showers in front of other guys at school. up to your interpretation

shock blanket at the very end is a nice touch so we don’t forget he’s traumatized

The Drowned Rat/The Man Overboard

10/10

wet

shorts could be shorter

the decision to purchase and wear a hoodless raincoat is absolutely ridiculous and stupid

however it is also very steve harrington and i value self-expression

The Chick Magnet/The Flaming Homosexual

100/10

what can i even say about this fit?

the absolute best pants he’s worn thus far. amazing fit, excellent classic wash. i say this as a former american eagle outfitters associate and the winner of my freshman year dorm’s “best at folding jeans” award

manages to make blue jeans with a half-blue denim vest work effortlessly

bold primary colors make him stand out without being too gaudy

excellent pairing of t-shirt with simple stripes and vest with simple color blocking to create a complex yet cohesive and flattering look

simple brown belt gives the look a put-together yet down-to-earth vibe

hair has only gotten better

still wearing that same brown watch that he’s had since the introduction

this man looks like he waxes his chest

this is steve in his final form

thank you for your time

[neonponders]

💗🍑✨

Watered my plants today so here’s a drabble: ftm!Steve and gardener!Billy

Read on ao3 ~

Mrs. H wants a rose garden. They actually used to have roses in the flower beds in front of the house, but life got in the way and they were replaced with plants that could handle themselves, for the most part.

Thing is, Steve loves flowers. He stopped letting himself indulge in them because it was hard enough being “man enough,” but his friendship with Robin (and saving the world a few times) puts things into a new perspective.

He deserves to pursue his interests. And goodness knows, anything other people have tried to push on him haven’t worked apart from always make him looking like a fool.

So he gets a bunch of roses in little green “trainer” pots and gets to work during one of the last winter days where it’s cold in the air but hot under the sun. Steve plants peppermint (red and white striped) roses in the front flower beds, and red ones around one side of the pool; the side of the yard that slopes down and around to the front of the house, so the right angle from the street can see them. He even gets a fine mulch to blanket the new beds and goes to the quarry for free rocks to frame it all in.

Then a gardener shows up. His mom hired a freaking gardener.

Admittedly, Steve could have reacted better than, “Who the hell are you?”

But also, who arrives on their first day of work and says, “Wrong mulch, pretty boy.”

Steve had climbed out of the rose bed and faced the young and muscular guy, who blinked and his face flickered with something that Steve had seen dozens of times. The uncertainty between Steve’s height and his mother’s eyes and cheekbones. The movement of eyes analyzing the width of his shoulders and hips between a waistline he had worked damn hard on to be rectangular instead of hour-glass shaped.

“What’s wrong with the mulch?” Steve bit out as he planted his hands on his hips. He couldn’t say why he had the habit; some traumatized mixture of hiding his hips and making him look wider. Stronger. Deserving of the space he held.

“There was a recall from that brand. A whole vat of pesticide fell into it. It’s too toxic for flowering or fruiting plants.”

Steve could hear Robin’s voice in his head. If a man explains something to me one more time, I’m going to start frothing at the mouth.

God, Steve loved her. She helped him see all the micro-aggressions men did to him because they mentally catalogued Steve as the wrong gender. It helped him realize how bad he was at reading people and why he’d made the wrong “friends” up until now.

“How was I supposed to know that?” he retorted grumpily.

The gardener - with his stupid face already golden in the winter, and a stupid curl falling over his forehead like he styled it for landscaping or something - smiled. “Get a rake, peach. We’ll replace it by lunchtime.”

Peach? Steve fumed.

So...yeah. Not the best start.

Even worse, this guy named Billy really fed into the pet name. Greeted him with, “Hey, peaches,” all the time, and went inside to use the bathroom only to bring out sliced peaches and yogurt.

“It’s finally getting hot out. Sugar’s good for you.”

Steve hated him. He hated him for calling him Peach, and he hated him for putting salt on his fruit ever since Steve stomped inside and corrected the stupid snack the way he liked it.

And then Steve’s own red rose bloomed. He despised the irony but there it was. Robin helped him despise it less and less. Her own tactics for dealing with cramps, food cravings, and headaches really saved him; and just having the company made him feel less like a fish in the wrong ocean.

It came early, though, and it was a doozy.

Steve and Billy were only weeding the beds with occasional pruning of the branches, but eventually Steve just had to lie down. He’d started bleeding that morning, but in less than twenty minutes his abdomen was swollen and he felt the cramps all the way down his inner thighs to his feet.

The grass was cool underneath his cheek. Being horizontal helped the headache but not everything else -

“Hey, Peach. Sit up a little. I got you something.”

“Fluff off.”

Billy...didn’t laugh. Steve heard him huff through his nose and drape a towel or something over him before setting something on the grass. “Don’t knock it over.”

Steve opened his eyes and saw a glass of water and a glorious little pill on a toilet paper square. Steve gulped it down as fast as he could and settled once more...underneath Billy’s jacket. He supposed it was still a little cold in the morning shade.

When he could, he folded the jacket and set it on the poolside concrete before going inside to get himself more water, a little coffee, and to, you know, check -

He’d bled through his jeans.

Like the weight of water crashing over his head, Steve wilted in the bathroom. It wasn’t a big stain, but Billy had to know, right? Steve tried to remember where exactly he’d placed his jacket on top of Steve. Was it to keep him warm, higher up on his shoulder? Or lower, to give him the courtesy of privacy?

Steve wasn’t a coward. And he sure as hell wasn’t going another day with this gardener treating him like-like...

Like what?

Robin would skin him alive for not wanting to be treated like a girl. What does that even mean, Steve? Treated with respect? Treated like a person? What does it mean to be treated like a man, then? Who is devalued here? 

Steve sighed and yanked on fresh underwear and jeans. Why was gender so hard? He knew he was Steve, and Robin liked to tell him he over-simplified things - which was a hell of a nicer way of saying he shined less than other bulbs - but he couldn’t deal with the wondering or the tip-toeing around this incredibly masculine and pretty and annoying gardener.

Billy was down the slope in the side-yard. Steve didn’t know why he was planting a sapling, of all things. His mother never said anything about wanting a tree, but he ignored that and barked, “I need to talk to you.”

“I’m listening,” he said without turning around. Steve fumed as soil got patted down around the base of the tree.

“We need to talk about my – me. We need to talk about me.”

“Are you feeling better?” Billy stood and went to the wheelbarrow of mulch.

This was too frustrating. Steve came right out with. “Do you know? Like – because my name is Steve. But I’m not sure you get it – ”

“I get it. Steve.”

Billy finally looked at him and used the shears from his belt to clip off the large tag fluttering on the branch of the tree. “It’s you who doesn’t get it.”

He pushed the tag against the front of Steve’s shirt. The latter now had a prop to syphon his frustration into. He waved the tag around as he exploded, “What do you – You don’t get to know me better than – ”

“Romance really flies right by you.”

And.

Well.

Whatever lake or ocean Steve flailed in, he sure gaped out of water now.

Billy stepped up to him, making Steve shut his trap and swallow a wet sound. He purred in between them, “This is the part where you read the tag.”

Steve really hated being a slower reader. He felt like every second was a month as he read the tag, and then flipped it over…

Peach trees have had romantic significance in many cultures for centuries. In mythology, Paris of Troy granted a golden peach to Aphrodite in competition with Hera and Athena, thereby crowning her the most beautiful. In return, Aphrodite promised him the most beautiful person in the world, Helen of Sparta.

Their fruit symbolizes unrivaled happiness, as nothing compares to the taste of a peach. In the language of flowers, peach blossoms have come to mean infatuation, or captured love.

Steve blinked at that for a long second and then found an extremely convenient little info-graphic that his brain absorbed more easily:

Peach: your qualities and charms are unequaled.

Blossoms: I am your captive.

“Um,” he fumbled, because his brain was dangerously close to asking, Are you Paris or Helen in this?

“I’ve seen how you look at me.”

Steve’s head jerked up. “No you haven’t!”

Billy, that bastard, grinned. “Yes, I have. I know you like me. You wouldn’t be so mean to me otherwise.”

“I’m mean because you deserve it,” Steve growled, but he wasn’t doing well at putting distance between them. Good god, the man had freckles on his nose and cheeks.

Billy pinched the front of Steve’s shirt. “I know what else I deserve,” and pulled a light little moan out of Steve when he captured his lips.

Billy’s lips were soft, and his hand was a little sweaty where it came to hold the side of Steve’s neck and jaw. Steve couldn’t help but say against Billy’s breath, “You don’t mind?”

“ ‘Course I don’t mind,” Billy murmured almost angrily. “It’s not the 1880s.”

“You just relied on a plant to tell me you like me. That’s pretty sappy-Victorian-show-trope to me.”

“I had to get creative. You’re already surrounded by roses every time I see you.”

Steve giggled breathily in the little space between them. Something in his body moved like a trapeze artist when the pink tip of Billy’s tongue moved inside his mouth, from one side of his bottom lip to the other.

“Roses? Too old school for me,” Steve teased.

“Good. Any more old school and it’d be awkward for me to keep doing this.”

Steve may or may not have gotten sunburnt from kissing too long.

Billy somehow found peach-scented sunscreen.

Steve also may or may not have thrown the bottle at him.

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

An Unforgettable Halloween | Luke Patterson

Requested by anon:  hiiiii! can i do a jatp luke x reader imagine where it’s halloween and reader runs into Luke and they spend the whole day making Luke forget he’s dead? thanks! <3 love your writing by the way

A/N: Thank you for this request, anon! I really enjoyed writing it! I hope you like it!! Idk why I always need to have the reader and Luke/Charlie singing together, but here ya go anyway. The song used is Favorite Place by All Time Low. :) 

Pairing: Luke x fem!reader

Warnings: fluff

Words: 4,447

Halloween. It’s never been my favorite holiday. My poor, feeble heart can’t handle all the scares and creepy stuff. And besides, it’s over commercialized, in my opinion. Capitalism just needed another reason to exploit a holiday. My best friend, Ava,  tells me I hate the holiday because it reminds me of two years ago when a Halloween party traumatized me for the rest of my life. “Just because Brent made that day terrible, doesn’t mean the day will forever be terrible, Y/N,” she’d always say. Though that might be true, I still like to believe that’s not the only reason why I  hate the holiday. “Just come with me to the party tonight, and you’ll see it���s not as bad as you think it is!” We’re on FaceTime while I’m doing homework and she’s trying to figure out what to wear to the annual Halloween party at Charlotte the popular girl’s house. Another reason to hate the holiday. Charlotte Parks is the typical popular girl trope in this story. Pretty, popular with the guys, a cheerleader. The cliché. “I don’t think I’m gonna do that, Av,” I say whilst tucking my pencil behind my ear and staring down the phone in front of me, balancing against my backpack on the end of my bed. “You know Charlotte and I don’t mix well together.” That’s true. Charlotte has always despised me, God knows why. For some reason unknown to me, she always has to find a way to ruin my life. “Her house is so big, you won’t even see her!” Ava reasons from her walk-in closet before walking back onto the screen, another dress in her hand. This one is a black bodycon number with a white collar at the top and fringes at the sleeves. “How about this one?” “That’s very Wednesday Adams!” I exclaim with a wide smile on my face, to which I receive a very impressed nod from my best friend. “You know Bobbi’s coming tonight, Av. Can’t cancel on her!” Roberta’s my cousin of 13, and she’s one of my best friends, no matter how lame that sounds. We’ve always been pretty good pals, since we’re the only girls in the family. We kind of had to stick together against the testosterone of our other cousins. She’s not actually coming tonight, but I needed a good excuse to get out of this party. “Take her with you!” she yells both excited and kind of desperate at the same  time. “Ooh! How about I wear my pleather pants with, like, a black body and cat ears?!” She disappears into the wardrobe again. “She’s 13, Av! I’m not going to take her to a high school party!” I yell back whilst shaking my head in disappointment. “Wear whatever you want, Ava. I’m sure you’ll look amazing.” She appears into the picture again, her pleather pants halfway her butt and her bra on show. “Hey, is that my bra?!” I recognize that black lace with the gold detailing down the bust anywhere and I’ve lost that bra three weeks ago. “What? No! This is mine!” she says, but I can tell she’s lying. “You are unbelievable, Av!” I shake my head, grinning at my best friend. “I’m gonna have to go though. Send me a snap of  your outfit once you’ve chosen!” She nods her head in response, walking up closer to her phone, which she had balanced somewhere on her drawers. “I really can’t convince you to come?” Her expression has suddenly turned serious. She really is bummed I don’t want to come out, but I don’t care. I can’t care. This is for my own good. At least then, I don’t have to see Charlotte. Or Brent. “I’m really sorry, Ava.... Maybe next year, yeah?” She sighs mournfully before nodding her head. “Have fun, okay? And be careful!” A smile appears on her face again. “I will, babes. Have fun with Bobbi!” She offers me a wave, which I return before yelling ‘bye’ and pressing the red button on my phone screen. Lying to my best friend is not my favorite thing to do, but she wouldn’t shut up when she found out what I’m actually gonna be doing. With a sharp exhale, I crawl off my bed and head downstairs where my parents are getting ready for their little get-together with their friends. Dad’s dressed in a pin-stripe suit, a fake mustache stuck on his upper lip and his hair gelled back tightly whilst mom’s wearing a black dress with a deeply cut V-neck and a large slit down the side. Gomez and Morticia Addams. Very spooky. “Don’t you two look dashing,” I compliment, watching them from the middle of the stairs, sitting down. Mom shoots me a kind smile as she fixes her slick hair. “What are you gonna do tonight, sweetie?” Dad asks, tightening his tie. “Probably gonna go get some food and watch some movies,” I shrug, placing my head in my hand, my elbow resting on my knee. “You know, the use.” Dad exhales sharply, smiling sympathetically. “Don’t give me that look, dad.” “I’m sorry, sweets. But I just wish you would act like a seventeen-year-old instead of an eighty  year old.” I scoff at his statement. We had this discussion last year too. Both of them know what happened and why it’s so hard for me to enjoy this day. But they still give me shit for it. “I’m gonna have plenty of fun by myself. Even more so than if I did go to the stupid party,” I reason with him. He raises his hands in defeat before turning to his wife. “Just make sure the kids get their candies, yeah?” mom says instead, climbing a couple of stairs to press a kiss to my head. “I love you,” she whispers and heads down again. “Love you too. Have fun, guys.” Dad comes up to kiss me too before heading to the door with mom. With his hand on the doorknob, he looks back at me. “You know we only want you to be happy, right?” he says. I nod my head, offering him a smile. “I love you, sweets.” He walks out and shuts the door behind him, leaving me alone in the empty house. I sigh deeply before heading down and grabbing my Vans. Once they’re on my feet, I grab my wallet and exit the house. The cool October air hits my sweater-clad arms, sending a chill down my spine. As my feet tread down the pavement, my mind wanders to this day two years ago. Around this time, everything seemed normal. I was happy and excited to get to the Charlotte Parks Halloween extravaganza with my boyfriend Brent. We’d picked out a great couples’ costume. He was a wolf, and I was dressed as Red Riding Hood. I’d even taken the liberty to go all out with makeup and put a slash near my eye as though I’d been attacked by the wolf. Ava was a fan of that costume, more than Brent was. But when we neared the end of the night, everything crumbled down into shreds of sadness and anger. The residue of that anger wells up again until it’s knocked out of me when I bump into someone, making me stumble backwards. I would’ve fallen on my ass if it wasn’t for the hands capturing my arms to keep me from doing so. “I am so sorry, I--” I stop in my tracks as I look up into the gorgeous green eyes that belong to the attractive brunette that saved me from landing on the cold pavement. “A-are you okay?” he asks, letting go of me. “I--wait…” He furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “You can see me? And you can touch me?” That’s the weirdest question I’d ever gotten. My eyebrows knit together now too, trying to figure out what’s happening and why this boy is so confused about our entire interaction. “Uhm, yeah? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do with people?” “No. I mean -- yeah, but I’m not a person, technically,” he replies in a mumble. He cautiously looks up at me again. “I’m a ghost, actually.” I let the words sizzle through my brain until it decides to send me into a fit of laughter. “Right, yeah, it’s Halloween. Ghosts. I get it. Good one,” I say between laughs, patting the boy’s shoulder, which only sends him to more confusion. To be fair, he doesn’t feel like a normal person. His arms don’t feel like they’re made of flesh and blood, but rather something light and airy. He gapes at me with this inquisitive look on his face, which calms down the laughter abruptly. “You’re not really a ghost, are you?” I ask, just to be certain. “I am, actually…” he mutters and jams his hands into the pockets of his black jeans. “Me and my bandmates died in 1995 and this girl, Julie, brought us back as ghosts… She’s the only one who could see us… Until now,” he looks up at me with hope and confusion written all over his face. “But she can’t touch us… Are you sure you’re not dead either?” I snort at his last question. “Kinda wish I was today,” I blurt out. My eyes widen after the words left my mouth. “That sounds way too dark…” I chuckle, and the boy does too, but I think it’s more out of awkwardness than finding it funny. “Are you okay?” he asks. At first, I think about answering it superficially, but there’s this look on his face that makes me want to spill all the beans. He, too, seems lonely and distraught on this Halloween night. “I’m not actually,” I glance down at my feet, finding his feet are clad in the same shoes. I then let my eyes glide from his shoes all the way up to his face. He’s urging me to continue by tilting his head a little, shooting me a questioning glance. “Halloween isn’t my favorite holiday…” I clarify. The boy nods his head understandingly. “That explains the lack of costume,” he says, which makes me glance down at my doodled-on mom jeans and oversized sweater before chuckling. “You don’t do the dressing up either? Or is that not something ghosts do?” I query, pointing at his ensemble. He’s wearing black jeans with a shirt and long-lined jean jacket. “I mean, it’s not like anyone would see,” he jokingly says, which lets a giggle escape from my mouth. His smile widens upon hearing this ridiculous sound coming from me. “Where were you going so determinedly before I smashed into you?” he asks after a few beats of silence. “Oh, I was getting some food from the place on the end of our street. They got pretty decent sushi, and since I’m home alone tonight, I thought, why the heck not treat myself, right?” I curse at myself for sharing this much with a complete stranger, who is a ghost, nonetheless, but the chuckle that reaches my ears comforts me a little. “No parties to go to? Back in my day, Halloween parties were always the best.” I feel the smile on my face fade away at the reminder of the Halloween party I’m not attending tonight. “Yeah, no… I haven’t gone to any Halloween party in two years… Like I said, Halloween isn’t my favorite holiday.” He offers me a sympathetic smile. A silence then falls over us as we stand in the middle of the street, looking at each other, debating what to say. “So… I’m gonna go and get my sushi. Uhm… Sorry for bumping into you,” I apologize and lift a foot to start walking away, but his voice stops me. “Would you mind if I tagged along?” he asks, which renders me surprised. “I don’t eat, so you don’t have to buy me sushi, but I think I could use some company tonight… If you don’t mind, of course.” His eyes are filled with hope, and some sort of desire to hang out with someone other than those bandmates he was talking about. “Uhm, no… Yeah, sure. You can tag along. It might be a nice change from that lonely Halloween I always have,” I chuckle, and he does too. “I’m Y/N, by the way,” I say as he turns and falls into step with me. “Luke,” he introduces himself with a smile. “Why don’t you go to Halloween parties, Y/N?” I inhale sharply at this question. I was hoping he wouldn’t ask too much about it. But I guess I can never get out of that question anymore. Halloween is a big holiday around here. “Two years ago, I went to one with my boyfriend. It’s the party where I found out he was cheating on me with the one girl who always had it out for me.” It rolls off my lips with ease. Normally, I’d choke or start bawling my eyes out. But Luke’s aura is so calming and reassuring that I can’t help but feel okay telling the story. “I haven’t been able to go back since, much to my best friend’s dismay.” I roll my eyes amusedly thinking about Ava and her desperate attempts to get me to go each year. “That sucks, I’m sorry,” he says as we enter the sushi place. “You better grab your phone now if you wanna talk to me. People tend to give weird looks at people talking to themselves.” I get my phone from my back pocket and pretend to dial a number before pressing it to my ear, glancing up at Luke with a smile on my face. “Hey, how you doing?” I say into the phone, which makes Luke giggle. “Just know that your ex-boyfriend’s stupid for ever cheating on you,” he tells me before looking down at his feet. “I would never wanna hurt someone as pretty as you.”  I can feel a blush creeping its way onto my cheeks, but decide to conceal it by jokingly saying, “Aw, you think I’m pretty.” He rolls his eyes, an amused smile on his face. “Next!” the guy from the sushi place yells. “Oh, hold on,” I say into my phone before placing it on the counter and facing the employer. “Uhm, the Halloween surprise box, please,” I order politely. The man nods curtly before getting into action. I grab my phone again and press it to my ear to continue talking to Luke while we make our way to a couple of chairs and tables set up for waiting customers. I let my eyes wander around the room. It’s decorated to the max with spiders in spiderwebs, pumpkins, skeletons, ghosts,... The lot. Then, my eyes fall onto Luke. He’s glancing around the place, letting his eyes wander until they find their way back to me. A shimmer appears in them when he finds me already looking at him. “So, you said you were in a band?” I ask, pretending to talk to the person on the other side of the line. “Oh, yeah! Me and three of my best friends were in this band called Sunset Curve. Three of us died on the night we were supposed to play the Orpheum,” he explains, and my eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets upon hearing the name of the venue. “The Orpheum?! You’re kidding, right?” He shakes his head, smirking. “You would’ve been legends.” The words come out in a whisper, hoping it wouldn’t upset him too much. “Yea, we would’ve been,” he sighs, then suddenly perks up again like an excited puppy, “But the girl I told you about, Julie? She can make us visible whenever we play with her! We’re now a band with her called Julie and The Phantoms!” I giggle at his endearing enthusiasm. “We would’ve had a gig at this really cool party in the Bel Air, but Julie got sick and had to cancel.” My eyes widen upon the words ‘party’ and ‘Bel Air’. Charlotte Parks lives in Bel Air. “That would be the party I’m not going to tonight,” I tell him, chuckling. “So, we would’ve met tonight either way.” He adds with a cheeky smile, “Some would say it’s fate.”  I shake my head at him, but can’t help the smile on my face either. I want to add something to debunk his theory, but my name is called out by the sushi guy. I get up and take the box of sushi from him, shooting him a quick thank you before leaving the joint with Luke in tow. “Where do you wanna go?” he asks, bouncing up and down. “Oh, I was planning on watching some movies at home, but if you have a better idea to spend tonight? Anything is better than going to that Halloween party.” He purses his lips in ponder, his eyes darting up to the night sky. “Ooh! There’s this park I like to hang out at sometimes?” I raise my eyebrows at his suggestion, popping a piece of sushi in my mouth. I’m way too hungry to wait until we sit down to eat. “You haunt children’s playgrounds?” I ask after having swallowed the seafood. His eyebrows knit together at this as he narrows his eyes at me. “I don’t haunt children’s playgrounds. I hang out at them,” he corrects me. “You’re a ghost, sweetie. That’s haunting.” “It’s not!” he shouts. “It is so!” I laugh loudly, throwing my head back. “You’re lucky the kids are all trick or treating tonight, so we can go there. Might be a little more secluded for me to talk freely to you without worrying people will think I’m crazy.” He nods his head agreeingly. Once at the park, we take a seat in the grass. I have my legs crossed whilst Luke’s are spread out, his hands supporting the rest of his body behind him. “So, what do you do in life, Y/N? You know, besides avoiding parties,” he asks with a little smile plastered on his face. I look at him for a moment, chewing my sushi. This gives me the time to really look at him. He has really great bone structure. Sharp jawline, chiseled cheekbones, fine nose, deep-set, dreamy eyes. “Eating sushi,” I reply jokingly after I’d swallowed the piece of deliciousness. Luke lets out a laugh too. “I’m still in school, so I’m spending most of my time studying. And I like to think I’m a pretty decent writer.” He stares at me, giving me his undivided attention with the cutest smile plastered on his face. “What do you write?” he asks curiously as I pop another sushi in my mouth. I lift my hand to my mouth, and reply, “Poems,” before continuing to chew quickly. “Kinda like songs, then?” I shrug my shoulders. “They could be, but I don’t play any  instrument, so I haven’t tried,” I reply and place the half-eaten box of sushi to the side, pulling my legs up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. “Do you write your own music?” He nods his head. “I wrote most of the songs in our band and now, I write with Julie for the new band,” he answers. As I’m thinking how much I’d like to hear him and his band play, he cuts those thoughts in two by asking, “Can I see your work?” I open my mouth, then close it. Then open again. I must look like a goldfish breathing. “I’ve never really shown anyone my work…” I trail off, debating whether or not I should show him. “Besides, my notebook is at home.” Luke suddenly gets up from the grass and reaches out his hand for me to take. I hesitate. Am  I really going to take a complete stranger, a ghost, to my house to show my poetry, only to find out he hates it because it’s nothing like his songwriting? The answer is yes. I place my hand in his and let him pull me to my feet. Without letting go of my hand, he grabs the box of sushi and then guides me out of the park and lets me lead us towards my house. “Wait here,” I tell him as we’re in the foyer. He simply jams his hands into his pockets and nods his head curtly. I run up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and then go to grab my notebook from my room, quickly storming back downstairs where Luke’s still waiting. I make my way to the living room and sit down on the couch. The boy cautiously trails behind me, and only comes to sit down after I pat the spot beside me. “It’s not that great, but… You know, it’s fun to do and a great outlet for anything I may be feeling.” I hand him the notebook and let him flip through all the pages. He stops on a few, reading it a little more thoroughly. It’s building some suspense in me. What if he doesn’t even like them? What if he, a songwriter, hates them? “Ah! This one!” he exclaims, and suddenly, with a whoosh, there’s an acoustic guitar on his lap. “One of the perks of being a musician spirit,” he tells me with a grin before strumming the instrument a little. He abruptly stops, looks at the page in my notebook again, and then softly tickles the strings. A beautiful melody pours out of the instrument before his melodic voice joins in too with the words I wrote. “I saw your face in the fire again I touched the flames and burned down everything I hear the sirens west of 8th now” He looks at me with a questioning glance as if asking for encouragement of some sorts. I offer him a smile, unsure of anything else I could be doing right now. His voice has rendered me silent. I think I could listen to him sing for hours.  “Wonder if you're hearin' them too And I know you don't belong  Know you don't belong to anyone” He focuses on the instrument again, making sure he’s still playing the right chords.  “No you can't be tamed love Maybe I was wrong  Maybe I was wrong for this But you feel like the perfect escape now Just like the sun on my face” His voice grows a little stronger, almost sounding raspier and more like a growl as he looks up again. I always thought it’d be cliché to melt when an attractive boy sings to me, but it’s actually happening to me right now.  “So can we close the space between us now It's the distance we don't need  Yeah, you're everything I love about The things I hate in me  So come on, come on, come over now and Fix me with your grace 'Cause I'm not too far and you're my favorite place” “You sing this last part,” he tells me, pushing the notebook towards me before going back to playing his guitar.  “I can’t sing, Luke,” I tell him, slightly panicking.  “Sure you can. I’ll sing along, don’t worry,” he offers me a reassuring smile before putting more power behind his strumming while also leaning closer toward me to read the words.  “So come on, come on, come over now and Fix me with your grace 'Cause I'm not too far and you're my favorite place” He now quits playing, placing his hands flat on the strings, and for a while we just stare at each other in disbelief. Disbelief about the song we just made together. Disbelief about how beautiful a voice he has. Disbelief about how attractive he is.  I cough, breaking the eye contact, “That’s a great song, Luke… You can have it if you want,” I offer with a smile to try and hide the blush from heating up my cheeks.  “No, Y/N, I couldn’t. That’s yours. Those are your words. Your words made this a great song.”  “They’re just words without a melody,” I mutter, folding the edges of the paper nervously.  “A song is quite boring without words though, isn’t it?”  For some reason, I’m starting to think all of this could be a metaphor for us. Him being the melody and me being the words. I would be a plain and simple poem without him, and his life -- though I doubt it -- would be boring without me.  “It would still be a song though,” I add, looking up at him again. One corner of his mouth curls up into a smirk, which makes me think he caught onto that metaphor I was thinking about. He suddenly grabs my hand and laces our fingers together. Before I can even register what’s happening, the front door suddenly opens, revealing a distraught-looking Ava. I let go of Luke’s hand and get up to help my best friend.  “What’s wrong?” I ask her as she stumbles inside. I grab her just in time before she can hurt herself. She looks up at me, her makeup run out all the way to her chin and blood trickling down her nose, though I’m not sure if it’s real blood or part of her cat costume.  “I punched Brent in the face and Charlotte punched me back,” she get out through sobs and hiccups. My eyes dart over to Luke, who’s watching this from the sofa. I almost forgot she can’t even see him. He offers me a small smile.  “Why?” I ask and guide her to the couch. She nearly sits down on top of Luke, but I’m quick enough to guide her next to him while he vanishes. He pops back behind the couch, looking down at the drunk girl lying down on the sofa.  “Because he was boasting about how he even managed to wrap the prude around his finger two years ago and got her to anything he wanted,” I swallow, remember those times people called me a prude because I covered up unlike girls like Charlotte who wore short skirts and plunging necklines. “I really don’t get what you saw in him, Y/N,” she mumbles while cuddling up to the pillow and letting her eyes flutter shut. “I hope you find someone that looks at you like I look at pizza.” I giggle at her drunken words before looking up at Luke to find him already looking at me. Kind of the same way Ava looks at pizza. A smile then finds its way to my face. Maybe Halloween isn’t as bad as I always thought it was. 

Taglist: @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @rudysbay @thedarkqueenofavalon @caitsymichelle13 @calamitykaty @parkeret @lukeys-giggle @gingerxarmy @lovesanimals @lolychu @perfectlywrongformend3s @luckylouiebug @camiladelrio98 @myfriendscallmebeans

[slyttherins]

Unexpected flame (part 4) | Fred Weasley x Sirius Black’s daughter

Upon having reinstated the old Order of the Phoenix on Dumbledore's request, Remus went to the Weasley's to retrieve Juliet and take her home. Little did she know, he had brought with him a surprise for her.

Remus unlocked the door to Grimmauld Place and they both slipped in. Juliet grimace at the shrieking portrait of her grandmother on the entrance wall and went upstairs to store away her trunk and school stuff and unpack.

Once she was finished, she returned downstairs.

''Is there anything in particular that you'd like for dinner tonight?'' Remus asked as he walked to through the dining room and to the small kitchen, about to get started on dinner.

Juliet joined him. ''Nothing too big. I ate so much while at the Weasleys, I'm stuffed for days.'' She laughed, thinking back to all the yummy cookies, breads, soups and and other meals Molly had cooked during the past days. She was going to miss her cooking.

Remus chuckled. ''Molly always makes sure everyone is well fed.'' He went to the cupboards to see what was left and winced as pain shot through his right side and grabbed onto the table for support.

''Are you okay?'' she asked worriedly, rushing to his side in case he needed help.

Over the years, turning into a werewolf every months had done damages to Remus' body. As a teenagers, everything was fine. He was back on his feet the next day like nothing had happened. But, as he got older, his body had weakened and, sometimes, after full moons, his damn hip was giving him a hard time.

''I'm fine.'' Remus tried to conceal his pain and smiled at Juliet. ''My hip is just a bit weak today. Could you get me my walking stick? I think I've left it in the drawing room.''

Juliet nodded and went to retrieve the piece of wood. She walked into the drawing room, heading straight for the fireplace, knowing Remus had the a habit of leaving it there after reading a book, but froze in place when her grey eyes landed on the figure sitting on one of the couches: her father, Sirius Black.

Juliet almost had to pinch herself, afraid she was dreaming.

Sirius had changed physically since she had last seen him. His appearance was no longer unkempt. His hair was still long, but not matted anymore. He looked younger too, fuller around the face - healthier. He had also gotten rid of that ugly striped two-piece they gave prisoners at Azkaban and traded it for a velvet jacket and clean, dark button up. He looked...good.

Sirius stood and smiled warmly, confirming that she wasn't dreaming. Juliet ran up to him and Sirius wrapped her in his arms, finally reunited with his daughter. The embrace was tight, but neither minded. They needed this.

Without counting their brief encounter in 1994, Sirius had spent fourteen years without her. He had missed fourteen years of her life. She was a small baby when he got sentenced to Azkaban. Now, she was a beautiful young witch and nothing could ever make up for the time they had lost. All the important steps of her life he had missed such as her first words or getting her first wand at Ollivander's, getting sorted into Ravenclaw or even her first heartbreak.

Juliet released her hold and stepped back, her mind going to Remus almost immediately. ''Does Remus know you are here? I gotta go tell him. He'll be so happy-''

Before Sirius could answer her question, Remus stood in the doorway of the drawing room.

''Who do you think brought him here?'' Remus said, smiling at the two while leaning against the doorframe.

''So, the walking stick was just an excuse for me to come here?''

''No. I still need my walking stick.''

Getting the message, Juliet grabbed the walking stick and handed it to Remus. He thanked her.

''That hip is still giving you trouble, Moony?'' Sirius asked amusedly.

''Shut up.''

.

One week after Sirius' return, there was a knock at the door.

Juliet, Remus and Sirius were all in the drawing room, spending family time. Well, Juliet was playing wizard's chess against her father, who was still very good at the game despite having not played in years, and Remus was reading - unsurprisingly.

They didn't get a lot of visitors at Grimmauld Place - not to say any. Juliet reached for her wand, ready to use it despite being underage. Of age or not, she wasn't going to let anyone attack her family.

Sirius looked at Remus by the fireplace, who was flipping the page of his book. ''Mind getting it? We're busy, here.''

Although he was annoyed at Sirius' laziness, Remus answered the door and a chaos of familiar voices echoed, making Juliet frowned. She stood, abandoning the chess plate and saw the whole Weasley clan and their luggages.

''Ginny! Ron! What are you all doing here?'' She hugged Ginny in greetings.

The whole family seemed to have gotten a haircut - most likely by Molly herself. Behind Ron stood Fred, who's hair was much shorter - as were Ron and George's - and he looked so handsome. He gave her a flirty smile and Juliet forced her eyes away.

''Well, well. You brought the whole clan, Arthur,'' Sirius said with a soft laugh, emerging from the drawing room to greet and meet their guests.

Mr. Weasley nodded politely at the ex-prisoner. ''Sirius Black. Haven't seen you since-''

''-the First Wizarding War,'' he finished. ''And we're getting into another...'' He tried to smile, but his eyes went hazy and unfocussed as a wave of grim memories of said war invaded his thoughts. Thankfully, Remus was right beside him, having sensed what was happening, and put a hand on Sirius' back, the touch pulling him out of his head.

Remus smiled at the lot, addressing to everyone. ''Welcome all. You can pick any rooms you want except Sirius and Regulus' old rooms on the topmost floor. There's plenty enough for everyone.''

It was going to feel strange having so many people in the house, so used to be only us two - and Sirius now too. They didn't even make usage of all the rooms. Upstairs, only Juliet's and the master bedroom were occupied. About the latter, which used to be Walburga and Orion Black's bedroom, Sirius had happily turned it into his Remus' just to spite her. She might be dead, but Sirius still found a profound pleasure through breaking all her old rules and beliefs now that the house was his.

''Hermione should be joining us soon, too,'' Ron informed. ''She wants to spend a little more time with her parents since they are on work break. She said so in her letters.''

Fred snickered and Ron glared at him.

''Fred, George, you'll be rooming together. Ginny, Hermione will join you when she arrived, and Ron....you can pick a room, but don't think you'll stay alone for long. Bill should be coming from Egypt in the next weeks,'' Molly instructed to her kids before they could all run upstairs and pick rooms. ''And don't break anything! This isn't our house.''

.

''Wicked house you've got here, Black,'' Fred said, returning from putting his stuff away in a room, George coming down right behind.

''Gives a bit the creeps if you ask me,'' the other twin added, looking at the row of shrunken house-elf heads on plaque mounted on the stair wall.

Number 12 Grimmauld Place couldn't have been more different than the Burrow. It was grim, cold, antique and breathed of death and torture. Juliet and Remus had tried to make it more homey over the years, but the dark ambiance was so strong that it didn't make a difference.

''What's with that painting in the entrance?'' Ron asked, joining them, confused and traumatized by said painting. ''That woman keeps screaming bloody murder about blood-traitors being in her house.''

Juliet laughed, knowing exactly what Ron meant. ''That's my darling grandmother, Walburga Black. Lovely woman, isn't she?'' She had never met the woman, but according to everyone, she was a nightmare on two feet and an horrible mother.

The door next to the stairs opened and Sirius came out of the office him, Remus and Mr. Weasley had been locked in all afternoon. ''She's all bark no bites - her portrait form, that is. She was far more scary when she was alive. Now, you just have to shut the curtains and she shuts up. I wish there was that option for the real version...''

His presence had made Ron jump, a part of him still afraid of the wrongly-accused murderer. ''Our mom screams too, but only when she's mad. Then, she cooks.'' He frowned, thoroughly confused. ''Women are scary and weird.''

''She screams because you're idiots and do stupid things and always get in trouble,'' Ginny countered, coming down the stairs.

Juliet snickered. Ginny wasn't wrong. The twins were always pulling pranks and Ron always managed to get caught into trouble with Harry and Hermione at school. Their mother could never catch a break.

''Dinner's ready!'' came Molly's voice from the kitchen, interrupting their conversation.

''Wait till you see the tapestry in the drawing room. Pure artwork!'' Sirius told the boys as they walked to the kitchen.

.

Juliet sat at her desk, gliding her quil on the piece of parchment as she responded to Luna's last letter. She had meant to do it after her chess game with Sirius, but her house had been invaded by six redheads and she sort of forgot about the letter. Sorry Luna.

A soft knock on her door pulled her from her parchemin. She looked up and saw Fred in the doorway, dressed in a yellow striped pajamas.

''George's snoring. Can I come in?''

Juliet nodded.

''What were you doing?'' Fred sat on her bed, uninvited, and peered at Juliet's desk subtly.

''Writing to Luna,'' she replied, finishing her letter so she could send it in the morning.

''What do we have here?''

Juliet looked over her shoulder and saw Fred holding a stuffed black dog. She rose from her chair and tried to snatch the plushie from him, but Fred held it high and out of reach.

''Give it back!'' she demanded, jumping on Fred and causing the bottom of her shirt to expose the bottom of her stomach.

''You have a stuffed animal in your bed? How old are you? Four?'' he asked, laughing.

''My dad gave it to me when I was born. Don't break it, Fred,'' Juliet warned sternly.

She didn't mind him touching or knowing about the plushie, as long as he was being careful with it. For so long, that stuffed dog was the only thing she had from Sirius: a plushie that resemble a lot to her father's dog animagus form.

''I think it's cute. Do you sleep with it every nights too?'' he asked in a childish, teasing voice.

Juliet grimaced and snatched it from him, successfully this time. ''Don't say it like that.''

''George and I once turned Ron's plushie into a spider.''

''That's so mean. Poor Ron! Is this why he's so terrified of spiders?''

Fred laughed at his own prank, remembering the terror on his three years old brother's face. ''In my defence, he broke my toy broomstick.''

''Ah, that's a very valid reason.''

.

On the second night, Fred came to Juliet's door again. This time, they talked about the Order of the Phoenix.

''Mom doesn't want George and I to join the re-estated Order. She says we're too young and it's dangerous, but we want to help, we want to fight. We're of age, it should be our decision.''

''Molly is a bit of an overprotective mother, but with reasons. She's seen what he can do - the Dark Lord. Both her brothers were murdered by Death Eaters during the first war. I think she's afraid something will happen to you.''

Fred frowned. ''Bill and Charlie have joined. Is she not scared for them too?''

''I'm sure she is, parents are always worried for their children, but they've left home long ago, I don't think she has any power over their decisions anymore,'' Juliet responded with a chuckle. They were also more experimented wizards, but she didn't dare going there.

''Do they tell you anything? Remus and your father.''

''Some, but that's because they don't want me to be clueless or unfit to defend myself. I'm not part of the Order though. I'm only fifteen. I can't even practice magic outside school.''

A grin spread on Fred's face. ''I can!'' he withdrew his wand from his pocket and pointed it at Juliet's desk, watching the books pile itself into one neat stack.

She raised an eyebrow at him. ''Was that your most impressive spell, Freddie?''

''I wasn't trying to impress you.'' Fred scoffed. ''If I were, I would've...''

''Which spell would you use to impress me, Weasley?'' Juliet asked, waiting expectantly.

He pursed his lips in deep thinking. Then, fireworks sprouted from his wand, exploding in a loud noise that echoed in Juliet's bedroom. Her eyes went wide in horror while Fred was laughing.

''Why did you do that? Do you want to attract attention to my room? If my father barges in here and sees you, you're dead.''

Sirius hadn't been present in her life for long, but Juliet knew there was no way he would allow a boy in her room. Remus wouldn't either, but he wouldn't harm Fred.

''I thought you liked fireworks.''

''Not in my bedroom at eleven at night, dimwit!'' Juliet hissed, grabbing Fred's wand and confiscating it to prevent him from making more fireworks.

''How will I impress you without my wand now?''

Juliet shrugged. ''Not my problem. Figure it out.''

Wandless magic was a higher difficult level and required great skills - and also often went wrong. Juliet was curious to see what Fred would do.

''Can't think of anything?'' she asked after a few minutes, raising an eyebrow.

Fred's lips curled. ''I don't need magic to impress you.''

Juliet frowned in confusion.

Beside her, Fred lowered his head and cupped her jaw with one hand to bring their lips together, closing the space between them. Juliet's breath halted at the unexpected kiss, thoroughly surprised. What? According to Ginny, Ron had a crush on her, not Fred. But her initial surprise was quickly put aside as she kissed Fred back, taking a quick liking and finding herself wanting more.

Reciprocating her wants, Fred's strong hands tangled in Juliet's dark hair before moving down and gripping her waist to bring her closer to his body, while hers grabbed onto his neck and forced the kiss to deepen.

Her train of thoughts was a mess, but Juliet let it be, giving in to her desires and teenage hormones instead.

The redhead smirked into the kiss, the fervor which Juliet was kissing him back letting him know that he did the right thing. He pulled back shortly, pressing their foreheads together. ''Have I successfully impressed you?'' he asked with a smug smile, his voice low with a tinge of cockyness.

''Less talking, more kissing.'' Fred laughed and Juliet pushed him back near the pillows and swung a leg over him in a straddling position, kissing the smile off of his face.

.

When Juliet woke up, the bed was empty. She was used to waking up alone, but after last night, Juliet had hoped Fred would be here. She hadn't taken him for the type to sneak out of bed, but maybe he was an early riser and was just tired of waiting for her to wake up.

She slipped on a robe and went downstairs, secretly hoping Molly had made pancakes. They were the best.

''Look who decided to finally join us,'' George said with a suspicious smirk as she joined them for breakfast, leaning against the kitchen counter while sipping his morning tea.

Juliet ignored George's comment and sat beside Ginny. Did he know? Had Fred told him about the kiss?

''Where's everyone?'' Juliet asked, seeing none of the adults around the table.

''Locked in the drawing room. They have a floo call with Dumbledore this morning,''  Ginny replied. ''Mum made pancakes, but Ron ate the lasts of them.'' She glared at her brother.

''I was hungry!'' Ron defended, still working on his last bites.

''They were for Juliet.''

''It's okay, Gin. I'll eat cereals.'' Juliet grabbed the box and made herself a bowl.

''So...where were you last night Freddie? You said you'd use the loo but never returned. Did you get lost on the way back?'' George asked, making Juliet to drop her spoon, thankfully missing the bowl filled with cereal and milk, causing a loud clink to echo around the suddenly quiet kitchen.

From across the table, Fred narrowed his eyes at his twin. ''George...''

''I know the house is huge, but you surely know to count to three. Our room is on the third floor, not second.''

Juliet's cheeks went pink with embarrassment. He knew. Had he heard them? Now that would be even more embarrassing.

Ron bursted laughing. ''On the second night. I knew it!'' He held his hand out to George, claiming his bet. ''You owe me five sickles.''

''I don't have five sickles.''

''You took a bet with money you didn't have?'' George shrugged, unbothered and Ron sighed. ''Why do I always get scammed?!''

''You getting scammed is the last thing you should be worrying about. You took bets on us?! You’re lucky I can’t use magic outside school,'' Juliet exclaimed, narrowing her eyes at Ron and George. 

Much like when Molly scolded them, Ron gulped. Why were women so terrifying?

Fred watched Juliet with endearment as she scolded his brothers, calling them out on their gambling. He liked that girl.

[purplebunniboy]

Retrograde Character Masterlist

I lied, here are all the characters. I’ll do in depth backstories later.

This probably isn't EVERY character but it's damn near close and just some basics about them that are totally subject to be altered or expanded upon later

---

Afton Family

Michael Frederick Afton/ Fritz Smith/ Mike Schmidt:

Thick curly brown hair, hazel green eyes, grey tshirt with rolled sleeves, tucked into jeans// scars along his face, torso, and arms

Born October 7th, 1969 to Sandra Schmidt and William Afton

The oldest of the Afton children

Loved baseball, got his first bat from Henry

Scar across his nose came from a fight, hand scars came from attempting to pry open Fredbear's mouth during the bite, arm scar came from encounter with the Nightmares, torso scar came from getting scooped, various other scars from animatronic encounters

Fox mask bully, Dayshift worker at Freddy Fazbear’s in 1987, Technician at Circus Baby’s Pizza World and Party Rentals, Nightshift Security Guard at Freddy Fazbear’s in 1998

William David Afton:

Shiny dark hair, soft blue eyes that turned grey the first time he “died”, well-groomed and cared about his looks

Father of Michael, Elizabeth, and Cassidy Afton; Spouse of Sandra Afton

Co-owner of Fredbear’s Family Dinner, Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria, Circus Baby’s Pizza World, Fazbear Robotics and Fazbear Entertainment inc.; Owner of Afton Robotics LLC

Cunning, charming, and extremely persuasive, could find out absolutely anything about anyone and use it against them to get what he wanted

Extremely theatrical and loved going over the top in performances, 

Loved robotics and excelled at crafting learning AI, but could never perfect it how he wanted

Drove himself mad with the idea of immortality and legacy

Absolutely hated being called Billy

Did love his kids, at least originally, he’s only Somewhat a heartless monster, but there’s something still beating in that chest of his

Cassandra “Sandra” Bella Schmidt:

Denim jumpsuit, dyed blonde hair, hazel green eyes

Mother of Michael, Elizabeth, and Cassidy Afton. Spouse of William Afton

Was a Broadway actress but left her career behind to marry William and raise her family

Very soft-spoken, only confident when she was on a stage under the spotlight

Had a beautiful singing voice and would often sing her children to sleep, especially if they woke up from night terrors

Elizabeth “Lizzie” Rose Afton:

Dark strawberry blonde hair curled into tight ringlets and pulled back into two ponytails with red ribbon ties, bright green eyes, often wore a lot bright colors

Born May 12th, 1979. Died February 1986

The youngest of the Afton children

Suspected of being the product of an affair as her looks did not resemble her father’s

Did whatever it took to get her way and was very cunning about how she went about doing that

Liked to sing with her mother and was very musically inclined

Evan “Ev” Afton:

Thick brown curls that often fell in front of bright green eyes, white collared shirt a large black tshirt with two white stripes across the chest

Born October 31st, 1975. Bitten by Fredbear October 31st, 1983. “Died” November 5th, 1983

The middle child of the Afton children

Was never the best at communicating with others, complained a lot, fought with his brother constantly at home

After witnessing Charlie’s unaliving, became traumatized and cried all the time

Had a large collection of stuffed animals but was usually carrying around at least one of the Fazbear Plushies

---

Emily Family

Henry Emily

Shoulder length hair always swept or pulled back out of his face, dirty overalls, hands are never clean

Father of Charlotte and Samuel Emily. Spouse of Donna Emily

Treated all the robots the same way he did his own children

Caring and understanding but had a short temper and lacked patience, especially when under a lot of stress

Extremely talented in robotics, excelling in them from an early age. He could make anything look lifelike and real.

Preferred the comfort of his garage workshop over really showing his face

Donna Fitzgerald:

Big and poofy dark hair, dark eyes, high-waisted acid-wash jeans, pink wool turtleneck

Mother of Charlotte and Samuel Emily. Spouse of Henry Emily.

Strong-willed and very loud about her opinions on things.

Very supportive of Henry’s passion with robotics even if the whole topic gave her headaches when she attempted to wrap her brain around the concept

Charlotte “Charlie” Emily:

Denim overalls decorated with marker drawings of flowers, green striped tshirt, green wrist band, untamable brown hair pulled into two high pigtails

Born June 26th, 1978. Died April 5th, 1983

The younger of the Emily children

Extremely empathetic and caring, always went out of her way to care for children smaller than her, wanting them to feel loved and accepted

She was never afraid to get dirty, she always colored outside of the lines on purpose, she wanted to do the daring and unexpected.

Carried around a porcelain doll that was styled like a black and white jester

Her robotic counterpart was the spitting image of the real one

Robotic Charlie was much more sensitive and much more analytical of the world around her

Samuel “Sammy” Jeremy Emily/ Jeremy Fitzgerald:

Born June 24th, 1970. Bitten by Mangle October 7th, 1987

The older of the Emily children

He was always a very gifted child, excelling in mathematics from a very young age, but hit gifted kid burnout by the time he hit highschool

Never had much of an interest in robotics

Patient and gentle, he preferred to keep to himself and would often seek out quiet places he could be alone

Jennifer “Aunt Jen/Jenny” Emily:

Older sister of Henry Emily

Always had an interest in robotics and passed her skills on to her baby brother

Fiercely loyal to family she would do anything she could to protect them and keep them happy, especially Henry since he was the only family she really had left

She was strong-willed, even in her younger years, and able to hold her own very well

---

Before the Bite

Michelle “Mitchie” Peters:

Spiky short brown hair, green t shirt, blue boy shorts, green sweatbands

Bear mask bully

Older sister to Gabriel Peters

Died July 4th,1985

Michael’s closest childhood friend

A tomboy, closet case, and had a major superiority complex or at least pretended to have one

Called the Mama Bear of the group due to her caring deeply for her friends but aggressiveness towards everyone else

David “Davie” Kennedy:

Wavy black hair, red polo shirt with a popped collar, blue bunny mask

Bigger kid and designated meat shield of the group.

Willing to defend his friends to his dying breath.

Inside, he had a soft core. He was the one who would check on each of them, asking if they were ok and if they needed help. His soft core often got him teased by his friends but it never stopped him from wanting to make sure they were always safe

Bunny mask bully, Technician at Circus Baby’s Pizza World and Party Rentals

Christopher “Chris” Houghton:

Short curly dark hair, long sleeve blue shirt

Chicken mask bully

Never left the arcade, living that sweet gamer life

Liked to run his mouth and always needed to have the last word

Vanessa “Nessa/Ness” Abernathy

Dark hair, rainbow clip extensions, dark eyes

Born December 24th, 1970. 

Knew Michael in school, had a crush on him, he was the first one to ever call her Ness and the only one she ever let call her that

Took a robotics class because of him and also got really into coding

Influenced by William and eventually taken completely under his control. She was his eyes and ears in the outside world. Talks to him through the Spring Bonnie plush when non-possessed

Poses as Mike’s therapist to keep an eye on him for William

Matthew “Matt” Griffiths

Older man though no one was sure how old he actually is or if he can even die, choppy hair, thick rimmed glasses

Phone guy

Dayshift worker/ Training Manager at Fredbear’s Family Diner, General Manager of the first Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria

Loyal to the company but also put his own well being and safety before anyone else’s

Would not stick his neck out for anybody on his own

Blunt and standoffish, sometimes considered rude though he was never rude to customers or kids

One of Afton’s first “puppets”

---

Party of 1985

Susan “Susie” Waylar:

Messy golden blonde curls, blue eyes, pink shirt, bedazzled jeans

Older sister of Samantha Waylar

Best friends with Gabriel Peters

Died June 26th, 1985. Stuffed into Chica

Extremely energetic and always told she should settle and be quieter like her sister

Despite being super messy, constantly having gunk in her hair and under her nails, she had an unnatural ability to always keep her dresses clean

Gabriel “Gabe” Peters:

Straight light brown hair, striped shirt beneath denim overalls, missing front tooth

Younger brother of Mitchie Peters

Died June 26th, 1985. Stuffed into Freddy Fazbear

Stood up for the smaller kids whenever possible

Energetic, never able to settle, and outgoing. Impossible to ever see him not smiling

He was clumsy and always getting hurt accidently.

Best friends with Susie Waylar

Cassidy “Dee-Dee” Richards:

Dark hair always pulled into two uneven pigtails, always wearing yellow

Died June 26th, 1985. Stuffed into Golden Freddy

Pulled a lot of pranks, some lighthearted, some not so much.

Threw tantrums to get what she wanted.

Always wanting to be first, always wanting to come out ahead, always 

Jeremy Velasquez:

Died June 26th, 1985. Stuffed into Bonnie

A generally shy kid who’s loud and energetic around his friends

Started growing out of Freddy’s pretty early on

Susie felt bad for him and invited him to hang out with her and Gabe

Frederick “Fritz” Parker:

Messy auburn hair, pastel pink polo shirt

Died June 26th, 1985. Stuffed into Foxy

Aggressive and rude, rather abrasive and destructive

---

Party of 1987

Pete Dinglewood:

Brown hair, red letterman jacket, backwards baseball cap, prosthetic hand and glass eye after being hit by a car and barely surviving.

Died October 4th, 1987. Stuffed into Foxy

Older brother of Charles “Chuck” Dinglewood

Always sticking gum under the tables in the party rooms

Alec Wilkins:

Blonde curly rocker mullet, sci-fi movie shirt with cut off sleeves, braces

Died October 4th, 1987. Stuffed into Freddy

Older brother of Hazel Wilkins

Could be rude at times, always got himself into trouble and pinned with the “problem child” title

Toby Billings:

Fluffy brown hair, mullet, reminds Michael of Cass, pullover sweatshirt with an athletic team’s logo on the front, always putting stuff in his mouth

Died October 4th, 1987. Stuffed into Bonnie

Younger brother of Connor Billings

Wanted to have the highest scores in the arcade

Cracks his knuckles when he’s lying or when he’s nervous which most people will loudly say is gross and annoying

Millicent “Millie” Fitzsimmons:

Dyed black hair always teased and pinned on one side, always wears a lot of black and intense black makeup

Died October 4th, 1987, stuffed into Chica

Best friends with Alec

Lives alone with her grandfather, who is sometimes hired by Fazbear’s or Afton Robotics to fix any minor technical malfunctions with the animatronics

Was there during the grand opening event of Circuse Baby’s when Elizabeth was killed in 1986

---

Around Town

Connor Billings:

Brown hair, square face, very hyper and always laughing even if the joke isn’t funny

Phone dude

Older brother of Toby Billings

Became obsessed with the mysteries of the place after looking into the 1987 deaths more

Collected old remnants of the closed down restaurants.

Hired by Henry to find the stuff still haunted to put into Fazbear’s Frights, no questions asked

Lowkey scared of Michael saying, quote, “the guy just gives me bad vibes”

Samantha Waylar:

Older sister of Susie Waylar

Quieter, though who’s to say that equals maturity 

Preferred to keep to herself and her books

She knew how to stand up for herself and was actually better at telling kids off than her sister was

Swear she loved Oliver more

Stanley Martinez:

Technician at Circus Baby’s Pizza World and Party Rentals

Was into tech most of his life.

Known to be a generally kind man, putting others and their well being before himself

He was never one to snoop around and would prefer staying out of other’s business

Clayton “Clay” Burke:

Father of Carlton Burke. Spouse of Betty Burke

Chief of police. Was a detective when the 5 murders happened, worked on the case.

Though he is at times a little air headed, he is very caring of those around him

Carlton Burke:

Ginger hair, dark clothing

Only son of Carlton and Betty Burke

Childhood friends of Charlie, John, and Jessica

Always the kind to crack jokes when the mood was down and laugh in the face of danger.

Art and theatre kid

John Aowyn:

Messy brown hair, white shirt, brown leather jacket

Childhood friend of Charlie, John and Carlton. Had a crush on Charlie

He was a writer and constantly lost in his own fantasy world that sometimes it was hard to pull him out of

Jessica Sinclair:

Shiny light brown hair, brown doe-eyes, always clean cut, fashionable clothing, contagious smile

Childhood friend of Charlie, John and Carlton

Fiercely loyal to her friends, and would do anything to protect them. She hated seeing them sad or hurt and was always there with bandaids and snacks the moment they needed her

Very perceptive and smart, she had a love of forensics and her friends would often put on mystery hunts just for her

Leslie Dunn:

Round face, light hair, police uniform

Police officer/ Detective

A bit blunt at times though not with the intention of being rude

A bit awkward at times

Jack Flores:

Younger man, greasy hair, bright eyes

Nightshift Security Guard at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria

Overly curious, couldn’t keep his nose out of other’s business

[creampuffqueen]

Broken Jars - Sukka Week Day 1

hello everyone!!! this is my very first atla fic i’ve ever written, and i’m super excited to share it with y’all!! this is why i didn’t participate in tlc shipweeks lol, i’ve been super busy trying to get stuff for sukka week because these kiddos need more content!!

the prompt for today was post-canon, so i wrote what i write best: a kid fic. rip to whoever said suki died young because that’s not possible. she and sokka got married and live a quiet life on kyoshi island to raise their babies.

anyway, hope y’all enjoy!!

word count: 2,418

~~~~

The house is so silent when Suki walks in, carefully removing her headdress, taking off the thick gloves of her uniform. Silence isn’t something she’s used to anymore. 

It’s later than she normally gets home, the sun high in the sky and sweltering at this time of year. She has to resist swiping a hand over her sweaty brow, lest the face paint rubs off.

She had stayed late at the dojo, after a younger student practically got on her knees and begged for an extra lesson, desperate to keep up with the older girls. Suki couldn’t say no.

Normally when she gets home the house is joyful chaos, the by-product of two four-year-olds fully rested from a good night’s sleep and energetic from their lunch. Now, the only sounds to be heard are the creaking of the floorboards and… is that snoring?

She finds the source a moment later, chuckling softly to herself when she finds her husband asleep on the couch, laundry strewn about in the process of folding, looking for all the world like he just intended to rest his eyes for a moment.

“Sokka,” She croons gently, leaning over his sleeping form to drop a soft kiss on his cheek. Those blue eyes of his flutter open, lips parting into a sleepy smile when he recognizes her.

“Hey,” He grins back, voice slightly hoarse from sleep. “Are you home early?”

She laughs at that, glancing over at the clock hanging over the bedroom doorway. “No, actually. I’m home late. Are the twins napping?”

Sokka lets out a loud groan, sitting up, rubbing his neck. “They should still be. I put them down about an hour ago. After Kolla stole Koda’s stuffed badger-mole and both of them started crying, I knew it was time.”

Suki shakes her head at that. “They both have the same stuffed badger-mole, why does she do that?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. She just likes taking Koda’s stuff.”

Suki sits down on the couch beside him, resting her head on his shoulder with a sigh. “I’m glad they’re both asleep. I always get home before their nap, and then we both have things to do.”

“Well, I have things to do.” Sokka snorts. “Laundry. Somehow they’ve managed to dirty more clothes than when they were babies, and that’s saying something.”

“So there’s nothing else you’d rather be doing?” Suki asks coyly, batting her eyelashes exaggeratedly. She drapes a leg over her husband’s lap, leaning into the couch.

“Absolutely nothing.” Sokka gives her that lopsided grin that makes her heart race, blue eyes full of amusement. 

They stare at each other for only half a moment before Suki sighs, done with playing games, and pulls him down for a kiss.

“You got me.” He smiles against her mouth in a way that makes her heart swell, “I’d much rather do this than the laundry.”

She laughs as he kisses her, quick pecks on her nose, her cheeks, her forehead. Suki leans in to kiss his nose, and his smile increases tenfold. 

It’s then that she notices the red stain on his lips, the white on his nose. And she giggles harder, shaking in his arms as she points it out.

“Great Spirits,” Sokka sighs, “how hot was it out there? Your makeup has never melted before.”

Suki doesn’t answer him, just presses more kisses around her face, laughing in hysterical delight at the red marks she leaves in her wake. Her husband rolls his eyes but lets her have her way, a small grin turning up the side of his mouth.

When the novelty finally wears off, Suki leans her head against his chest, still giggling slightly. “You need a bath.”

“Thanks for that,” He snorts. His fingers shoot to her side, tickling her even through the thick Kyoshi uniform.

Very few things make Suki come undone faster than when he tickles her. As much as she hates it, she is very ticklish, and Sokka uses this to his full advantage.

Even after years of elite training, the Kyoshi warrior is rendered completely helpless as her husband’s fingers dance on her sides and her stomach and underneath her arms, her squeals of laughter echoing off the walls of their home. 

“You’re gonna make me wake them-” Suki manages to get out between the laughter, but Sokka ignores her, yanking off one of her shoes to have access to her sensitive feet. 

She shrieks again, laughing so hard she can barely breathe, when something crashes to the floor in another room, shattering-

Both of them pause, eyes widening, both of their minds racing. Their bedroom, something fell, something broke-

“The twins!” Suki gasps out, frantic, hurling herself off the couch and towards the door, makeup still smeared, one shoe on. Her fans, which she hadn’t removed from her waistband, appear in her hands as she scrambles inside, searching for the intruder; nobody is getting near her babies. She can hear Sokka outside, running for the twins’ bedrooms, ready to gather up the toddlers and get out. 

Even though the world has known peace for years now, the fear still lingers, and even now Suki and Sokka wake up in the middle of the night gasping, visions of fire and death and loss all they can see. 

For Suki, it was so much worse after she had the twins.

Before, her nightmares were awful. Sokka, lifeless in her arms. Her friends, separated and in danger. And her warriors, taken from her, captured by Azula, tortured with lightning running through their bodies. 

After Kolla and Koda were born, their tiny shapes were added to the mix. 

It didn’t help that their birth was so traumatic. She and Sokka had prepared for one baby, had smiled at every little movement and kick they’d felt from the outside. 

She went into labor, and it was long and it was hard and Spirits, it hurt, but in the end little Kolla came screaming her way into the world, waving her tiny fists, a warrior from the start. 

But the pain didn’t stop. And by the time the midwives figured out what was going on, that there was another baby, it’s heartbeat was so, so slow. Koda slipped into the world and he was so, so quiet. And he was so, so small. 

He was still, the tiniest baby Suki had ever seen, a head of brown hair to his twin’s auburn, and he was silent. 

She’d felt her heart break, then. Shatter, like it never had before. That was her baby right there, her son, and he was so tiny and so still and the world was so wrong.

She couldn’t even hear her daughter’s screaming over the sound of her own sobs, the roaring in her ears as the world stood still and moved too fast at the same time.

I’m sorry, the midwife had said, wrapping him up in a towel and passing him so gently into her arms. He didn’t make it. 

Sokka was holding Kolla then, and she cried and cried and cried, like her heart was breaking too, a piece of her that could never be replaced.

Then a miracle happened.

In the dead of night on a summer solstice, the moon was full. It shone through the window, illuminating the tiny face Suki held so carefully in her arms. 

Koda started crying, then. Just like him, it was tiny and small, but every single wail healed another crack in Suki’s ruined heart. A single stripe of his baby-soft hair lightened, turned moon-white, as he continued crying. 

Suki knew then, what had saved her baby. Who had saved her baby. 

Thank you, Yue. 

In the years that passed, Koda was always so much smaller than Kolla. He was shy and quiet and so thoughtful, while his twin was wild with energy, and loud loud loud. 

Even with their differences, they were still best friends. It also helped that Koda was a waterbender- one of the only things he was better at than his sister. Kolla so admired it. 

And all of these thoughts bombard Suki as she runs into the room, fans at the ready, thinking about how hard she’ll fight, what she’ll do to make sure her children are safe-

“Mommy’s home!” Kolla’s sweet voice chirps, and the four-year-old runs into her mother’s arms, not at all bothered by the makeup, the uniform, the fans. 

Suki accepts the hug, just as Sokka runs into the bedroom, shouting for her. “Suki, the kids-”

“Daddy!” And then he, too, is put under the spell of his daughter. 

Suki spots the source of the crash, eyes widening as they settle on Koda, attempting to hide behind the dresser. The boy’s whole face is covered in red and black, and a smashed pot of white face paint is shattered on the wooden floor. 

Suki’s makeup.

She notices, too, that Kolla’s hands have white paint on them, as well as a smear of red on her eyelid, the paint all coming off on Sokka’s shirt as she hugs him. 

“What are you two doing awake? I thought you were napping.” Suki sighs, sheathing the fans back into her waistband. 

“Koda and me wanted to do our faces like Mommy!” Kolla says happily, bubbling with excitement as she shows off how she put the red paint on her face. “But Koko reached too far for the white and now it’s broken!”

“You told me to!” Koda protests, hiding his face behind the dresser. “I said we’d get in trouble.”

“Come here, both of you.” Suki leans down, holding out her hands for her shy baby boy. “I don’t want you two to get hurt on the pot, okay?”

Koda starts crying then, and Suki holds him close, not worried about the face paint. That stuff stays on, and even if it doesn’t, she cares far more about her baby than an easily washable uniform.

“Koko, don’t cry!” Kolla says earnestly, dragging Sokka over to them so she can hug her parents and her twin.

“I’m- I’m sorry, Mommy.” Koda blubbers. 

“Hey, buddy, it was an accident, okay?” Sokka soothes. “We can clean it all up in no time. It’s going to be alright.”

Still, it takes all three of them to calm Koda down, and in the end Suki picks him up and cradles him like a baby while he sucks his thumb, and Sokka cleans up the smashed jar of makeup. 

Koda and Kolla both still have the paint smeared all over, not to mention Sokka’s own red-stained face, and Suki is sure her own is a mess. 

“Koda, would you like it if we all went down to the ocean?” Suki offers, smiling as the toddler instantly perks up. If nothing else could cheer him, the prospect of swimming always did. “We can all get on our swimsuits and wash off the face paint.”

“I wanna go swimming too, Mommy!” Kolla giggles, dancing around her ankles. 

“Then let’s go!” Sokka scoops her up, and Suki follows him into the bathroom, where the twins’ swimsuits are kept. She helps them put them on while Sokka changes in the other room, and then they switch. 

It’s still hot outside, but it helps that they walk together under the trees on the way to the little ocean cove. The area is small and shallow, perfect for little swimmers. 

Kolla runs around excitedly, as always, while Sokka stays behind, smiling at Suki, hand clasped with her own. They walk hand-in-hand to the water, their kids running off to splash in it. 

Relaxing in the warm cove, Suki tugs her husband close, grinning as she washes the makeup from his face with gentle strokes. Kolla squeals in the background as Koda splashes her, the two of them sitting on the sandy bottom and having the time of their lives. 

“Have I ever told you that I love you?” Sokka says cheekily, helping her to rub the face paint off. 

“You may have mentioned it once or twice,” she laughs, thinking back to only this morning, where he pressed sleepy kisses over her body and whispered the words over and over in attempt to convince her to stay in bed. It almost worked. 

“Well, let me mention it again. I love you, Suki.”

She can’t hide the smile and the tug in her heart that he produces. They’ve been together for years, married for a long time, and even have two babies. Still, she can’t help blushing like she did when she was just a teenager, brand new to love and diving into it headfirst. 

“Stop, you’re gonna make me cry,” she sighs, laughter bubbling up. Overhearing their words, Kolla pushes her way in between them with a determined pout.

“Daddy, stop. Don’t make Mommy cry.” She has her hands on her hips in a way that reminds Suki a lot of Katara, but the expression is all Sokka. Koda trails over to see the commotion, draping himself into his father’s lap. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I was joking.” She soothes her daughter, and Kolla, satisfied, bounces back into the water to search for shells. 

Sokka starts to clean up Koda’s face while Suki washes her own, then pulls her daughter back to wipe her down as well. 

“I hope this is a lesson, you two.” Sokka chides, gently swiping his fingers over Koda’s cheeks to smooth off the smears of black face paint. “The makeup is for Mommy only.”

“But I’m gonna be a ‘Yoshi warrior too!” Kolla protests, attempting to squirm away from her mother. 

“If you want to be a Kyoshi warrior when you’re older, my love, go ahead.” Suki tells her. “But right now you’re only four years old. You’ve gotta get a little bigger.”

Kolla pouts, but it’s soon forgotten in place of splashing her brother. Koda yelps, scrambling away, throwing out a hand behind him to send the water back at his twin. 

Both kids clean, Suki lets them go free to work out their own differences. A moment later both toddlers are squealing with laughter, splashing water back and forth. 

She glances back over at her husband, at Sokka’s fond look as he takes them in. Years ago, none of this was a possibility, not in a war-torn earth. The idea of a peaceful life, with someone they loved, friends all over the world, and now… two little ones to share it with. 

Suki leans her head on her husband’s shoulder and smiles. 

~~~~

there it is! i hope you all liked it! remember, reblogs >>>>> likes (not that i don’t appreciate likes as well!)

[eventidespirits]

Adam Allistair Freemont

Aliases: Edwin Lockhart, William Silva, Francis LaRue, Everett Brighton, James Fenwick

Apparent Age: "29"

Birthday: August 11th, 1897

Death Day: December 19th, 1926

Species: Vampire (Siren Bloodline)/Bloodbound Spirit

Gender: Cis Man

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: Primarily Heterosexual

Occupation: Photographer

Residence: Santa Marta, California; Morgan Kendrick's Psychic Realm

Universe: Primarily original lore but also Vampire the Masquerade where he's a Camarilla Toreador who defected to the Sabbat.

Appearance:

Height: 6'0

Build: Tall and lanky with angular shoulders and long limbs. He has a trim, lightly muscled physique with long delicate fingers and soft hands.

Eye Color: Luminous Yellow/Gold with slitted cat-like pupils and a darker, amber band around the edges.

Hair Color/Texture: Black, 1b hair texture. Just long enough for the ends to brush against his shoulders. Partially brushed back and parted to the right but a significant amount of his hair ends up falling into his face.

Face: Angular with a square jaw and high cheekbones. He has a mostly straight nose with a slight convex curve to the bridge. He has deep set eyes with heavy lids and dark circles and usually looks somewhat sleepy but in a strangely sensual way. Defined lips that are usually curved into a sadistic little smirk. He's quite attractive but in a way that feels vaguely dangerous or even predatory.

Distinguishing Characteristics: Adam has bright golden eyes with slitted cat-like pupils. He also has a rather large, jagged scar on his back, located between his shoulder blades. I'd include his *other* distinguishing characteristic but that's kinda NSFW ;)

Posture/Body Language: Confident, even arrogant, chin up, shoulders back but not in a way that looks particularly stiff. His body language is generally relaxed and easy, bringing to mind a big cat at rest -- there's always something about the way he moves that implies a predatory nature laying beneath his cool, collected surface. Adam walks with clear purpose and long, smooth strides and always knows how to make an entrance.

Voice: Soft and smooth with a deep timbre and confident inflection. Adam's voice is somewhat like poisoned honey or arsenic laced velvet -- smooth and sweet but with something slightly off.

Clothing Style: Adam prefers dark colors -- burgundy, blood red, black, charcoal, rich deep browns and the ocassional pop of gold or cream or a white dress shirt. He wears primarily expensive, tailored button downs made from things like silk, velvet or very high thread count cotton with the sleeves rolled up and the top three (or four) buttons undone. Sometimes with brocade, floral or striped patterns. If it's cooler out, he'll wear a black blazer or something similar. When it comes to pants, it's almost entirely black or charcoal tailored pants or pitch black jeans. He usually wears very few accessories -- a nice watch, a belt, a silver and garnet ring and a pendant on a thin silver or gold chain. Generally wearing pointed toe oxfords or other dress shoes. When it comes to outerwear, Adam generally prefers things like wool coats and the ocassional leather jacket (always real leather, too) (to get a better idea, check out his [Pinterest Board]

Skills

Social: Manipulation, Lying, Gaslighting, Flirting, Proper Etiquette, Public Speaking, Blame Shifting, Negging, Seduction

Physical: knife combat, some hand to hand combat, basic combat training (circa 1914), long range firearms/sniping, Ballroom Dancing, Fencing, Horseback riding, the carnal arts

Talents: Photography, Drawing, Poetry, Lying, Being an Asshole, Manipulation, Painting, Seduction, Sex

Knowledges: Fluent in French & Italian, Masters in Psychology (circa 1926), Photo Development (wet plate, autochrome, modern methods), some basic knowledge of financial law and property law

Hobbies: Photography, writing, breaking pretty girls, avoiding his deep-seated psychological issues, general hedonism

Special: Emotional Influence, Telepathy, Emotional Transference, Enhanced Stamina, Enhanced Strength, "Immortality", Enhanced Senses (esp sight), minor regeneration, sweet blood, emotional radar/supernatural empathy, hypnosis/mind control

Psyche

Strengths: Charismatic, quick-thinking, clever, good at understanding the thought processes of others, empathetic, deeply romantic, treats service workers well, dedicated, generally calm, high emotional intelligence, has critical thinking skills, polite*, can be incredibly sweet, adaptable, pays a lot of attention to his partners in bed, passionate, artistic, creative, protective

Weaknesses: selfish, self-absorbed, arrogant, manipulative, almost completley lacks compassion, disdain for basically everyone around him, dishonest, has a horrible temper, needs constant attention and praise, has a massive inferiority/superiority complex, overconfident, easily susceptible to flattery, deep-seated intimacy issues, can't stand being wrong, terrified of vulnerability, paranoid, detached from his own emotions/denies his own humanity, callous, sadistic, can be incredibly rude, actually a bit of a coward, condescending, possessive, jealous and generally kind of a dick.

Fears: genuine intimacy, abandonment/loneliness,true death, being buried alive

Goals: To finally create the perfect art piece (i.e., break someone in just the right way -- he's not even sure what this MEANS, he's just sure he'll "know" when he finally does it), to just enjoy his immortality.

Personality: On the surface, Adam seems likable enough -- at least, at first. He's incredibly charming and thoughtful, often anticipating people's wants before they're even able to articulate them, witty, intelligent and seemingly very polite...

But beneath that surface lurks a spoiled rich kid who learned early on in life that having money, being good looking and charming meant he could get away with almost anything. Adam is self-absorbed and arrogant and almost everything he does is a carefully crafted performance intended to get people on his side and manipulate them into doing what he wants.

Beneath even that, which he desperately tries to ignore, is a little boy who was spoiled by his mother and entirely ignored by his (largely absent) father -- a young man who was traumatized by being forced to fight in WWI and who is full of deep-seated fears and insecurities.

To make up for this, Adam is often sadistic towards the people around him -- but in that way where it's difficult to tell that he's actually being cruel until one looks back at the conversation.

He has difficulty genuinely connecting to others because of those insecurities and instead uses his powers as a Siren to make the people around him love and adore him-- no matter how badly he treats them.

Life

Best Memory: Being gifted his first camera, meeting his Maker.

Worst Memory: Somewhere between when he almost died during WWI and his actual death...

Biggest Achievement: Getting his Masters

Prized Possession: Silver and Garnet ring gifted to him by his Maker, his first camera, his black 2020 Ferrari Portofino (with the red leather interior), (he also has an engraved custom sniper rifle but a friend picked the model and shit for me and I cannot remember what it is for the life of me)

Favorite Color: Red, Gold

Favorite Food:

-Mortal Food: Partial to anything rich and flavorful, prefers food that's not pointlessly ostentatious (nothing coated in gold leaf, that's absurd), dry red wines, Italian Cream Cake, Eggs Benedict, Crepes Suzette

-Blood: Blood taken in the heat of the throes of passion from someone that's truly and deeply in love with and obsessed with him...

Favorite Scents: Blood, Gasoline, Cloves, Cinnamon, Resin, YSL Nuit, roses, vanilla, rain, the sharp smell of a cloudless winter night

Favorite Songs: Winter, 1st Movement - Vivaldi, Raindrops - Chopin, La Vie En Rose - Edith Piaf

Can't Leave Home Without: At least one knife somewhere on his person.

Birthplace: San Francisco, California

Childhood: Adam is the only child out of six in his family to survive to adulthood with four older siblings who had either in infancy, had been stillborn or died of tuberculosis when Adam was still too young to remember them. He had one younger sibling, a sister named Mary who was killed in an accident at the age of 6 when Adam was 8 years old. His parents were already a little bit older by the time he was born and his father was the owner of an incredibly lucrative railroad line and had profited greatly from the Gold Rush as well as owning multiple properties in San Francisco and neighboring Santa Marta...

Due to the loss of her other children, Adam's mother doted on him -- giving into his every whim, supplying him with the best education she could and basically just spoiling the ever loving fuck out of him. His father, on the other hand, was always busy with work and when he was home, had nothing but criticism for Adam who desperately tried to gain his approval to no avail.

Adolescence: Adam developed a passion for photography as a teenager and discovered that being good-looking, clever and rich meant he could get away with A LOT more than most people and also meant that he rarely heard "no" and accepted it as an answer even less often (though he rarely resorted to force to get his way, relying instead on bribery, flattery, blackmail and implied threats). All of this gave him quite an interest in psychology and he intended to become a clinical psychologist. During his adolescence, Adam would have a great many girlfriends and despite being a selfish and manipulative little shit, was actually not the world's worst boyfriend and no hint of the violent temper and genuine sadism he'd develop after being Changed.

Adulthood: Adam's education would be interrupted by the outbreak of WWI,which if asked he will describe as "incredibly distasteful and personally inconvenient." He was a skilled marksman and sniper but was otherwise unremarkable -- much to his father's disdain. After nearly dying in one of the trenches of France after taking a grievous bayonet wound in the last few months of the war, Adam would be sent back from the frontlines and would shortly begin work on continuing his education...

However -- despite the fact that he would complete all seven years necessary to get his degree, Adam's interest in becoming an actual psychologist wouldn't ever come to fruition. In 1925, he would meet Amelia Madeleine Smith -- an unbelievably beautiful and charming socialite from Santa Marta who would see Adam's potential as a source of money and influence for the Nightingale Court of Northern California. She would spend the next year carefully grooming him to become her protege -- manipulating him much in the same way he would later manipulate the women he dates as a vampire -- using emotional transference, mind control and mundane manipulation to cause him to fall madly in love with her... In December of 1925, Amelia would finally perform the ritual of transformation on him and bring Adam over into the world of the Supernatural.

Unfortunately for Adam, his Change would take nearly two weeks to complete -- two weeks spent in absolute agony beyond anything he'd experienced before. Amelia, believing the most important first step for a newly born vampire is to break their bonds to humanity would kidnap his mother during this change and leave her for him to kill upon waking. Adam would remain with Amelia (who used her bond as Adam's maker to control most of his actions and her abilities as a Siren to continue to influence his emotions) until 1980 when she was killed by a member of the Bram Park Wolf Pack in Santa Marta, leaving Adam behind. During this period, Adam would end up being "taken in" by a bonded pair of Stryza -- Camille Belikova and Lucy DeSantos and would act as their primary draw for new playthings.

Recent: Adam met Morgan Kendrick at the Velvet Box goth club in Santa Marta when Morgan was twenty two years old and would sweep her off her feet, intending to make her into his "masterpiece"... Three years into this relationship, Adam would finally Change Morgan, which would break the initial control he had over her and result in her, in a fit of rage, completely draining him and through a magical fluke, causing his spirit to become bonded/fused with her blood...

Recently, Adam's presence has disappeared from Morgan's psyche due to the machinations of Miss Belikova and her wife -- though it appears that the two of them are still inextricably linked in a way beyond the usual bond between Maker and Fledgling.

Relationships

Family: Lawrence Freemont (Father; Deceased), Anne Freemont (Mother; Deceased), Mary Freemont (Sister; Deceased)

Lovers: Amelia Smith (Maker; Deceased), Morgan Kendrick (Fledgling, Ex, Soulbond), Many other unnamed girls.

Friends: Camille Belikova, Lucille DeSantos, Jonathan Andreason

Enemies: Morgan Kendrick, the Bram Park Wolfpack

Acquaintances: Miranda Cortez (Queen of the Nightingale Court of Santa Marta)

Income: Moderately Wealthy

Vehicles: 2020 Ferrari Portofino

Residences: Penthouse Apartment in Vista Rosa, a small Victorian row house in Val Del Mar and a 1br/1ba apartment in Park Verde (all located in Santa Marta)

[t4tlawlight]

Parentification of a child happens when the parent and child roles are reversed. This can take the form of instrumental parentification, where the child performs physical tasks that should be the parent’s responsibility. This can be things like paying bills, performing chores that are not age appropriate/undertaking all the chores in the household, or being the primary caregiver for younger siblings. These responsibilities mean there is no time to be a child or have any aspirations. Many children who are the victim of instrumental parentification are deprived of opportunities to have a better life, such as education.

-- “I Was a Parentified Daughter”

in the beginning, drama light is exactly the same as manga light. we see him as a young boy, brilliant, planning on becoming a member of the NPA just like his father.

[photo 1: a dimly lit screenshot of light yagami as a child talking into a yellow toy walkie-talkie. his dark hair is a bit past his ears. he is wearing a red, white and blue plaid shirt. light is saying, "I caught sight of the culprit!" photo 2: soichiro yagami is crouching on the stairs. the lighting is shining from behind him, and we can see his face through slots in the railing. he is also talking into a walkie-talkie, saying "Got it, Light. Storm the place."]

[photo 3: soichiro again talking into a walkie-talkie. he is no longer on the stairs, but it's difficult to tell where he is inside the house. he is wearing a green, yellow, and white striped polo(?) and saying, "You can't join the police if you're afraid." photo 4: light as a child still, brandishing a plastic black and orange toy pistol. he's saying, "Roger, I'm going in." into the walkie-talkie.]

-- Episode 1

the light we see in the series proper, however, is not the same as manga light. he’s gentle, and sensitive, and anxious. he suffers from panic attack after panic attack. there’s a misconception that he’s the “dumb” light, which frankly isn’t true.

the difference between them is the death of Light’s mother when he was young. his father was working on a case and refused to come to his ailing wife’s bedside, presumably assuming that she would be fine, so light and sayu were alone with sachiko as she passed.

Policeman: We got a call from the hospital. Your wife’s in critical condition. Soichiro: No, Otoharada takes priority. I’ll go to the hospital later.

[photo 1: a nearly empty hospital room. there are no decorations or well-wishing gifts or cards in the space, just a seemingly bare white cabinet against the wall, a matching nightstand beside the hospital bed, and a pale blue privacy screen off to the side. there is a body (sachiko yagami) under the white hospital sheets; her face is covered with a napkin. child light and his sister, still a toddler, are sitting beside her bed, distraught. soichiro yagami has just entered the room and is looking at the scene with his back facing the camera. photo 2: child light, wearing an unbuttoned black and white plaid short-sleeve flannel over a graphic tee. he is shouting at his father, saying, "I called and I called! Why didn't you come right away?"]  

-- Episode 1

it clearly traumatized light, if not sayu. she later says that he and his father have been distant ever since then.

Sayu: He’s acting really weird. Soichiro: How so? Sayu: I mean, he never worries about you. It’s creepy. Soichiro: That’s not creepy. Sayu: Yeah, it is! You know he’s been cold to you ever since the thing with mom.

-- Episode 2

as a result of this, drama light grew up very different from manga light--manga light is likely upper middle class, given that he can afford to toss away expensive mini tv sets, whereas we can see the yagami family in the drama struggling financially. light gets on sayu about not using electricity to save money:

Light [about the television]: If you’re not gonna watch it, turn it off. You’re running up our electricity bill.

-- Episode 1

drama light simply does not get the same opportunities as manga light. he goes to a just-decent economics college instead of working towards the prestige of To-Oh simply because he cannot afford it.

Light’s boss: Yagami-kun, you want a public sector job? Light: Well, job security. There’s no risk of them running out of business.  Light’s boss: Don’t you have any ambition? Like hitting it big and getting rich? Light: Once you get greedy, there’s no end.

-- Episode 1

but also because of the second change, which is that his father's emotional absence and distance when light needed him most (both as and after his mother’s death) resulted in light shunning his father's line of work entirely; while he still grows up with his father's morals and sense of justice, he has no desire anymore to act upon them.

[photo 1: light's bedroom, where there are so many decorations and personal items it makes the room look very busy. there's a large window along the wall behind soichiro and light. the lighting tints everything almost a blue color behind light, who is sitting at his desk, head turned a bit to soichiro. soichiro is in the doorway, staring at light's back. light is saying, "I'm hoping to get into the local ward office." photo 2: same setting, but now light is looking away from his father. he is saying, "Even if that's wrong, I don't plan to join the police."]

-- Episode 1

L: Does your son want to join the police? Soichiro: No. Light doesn’t have a good impression of my job. 

-- Episode 2

Soichiro: When you were a child, you wanted to become a police officer, didn’t you? But when your mother died, you stopped saying you wanted to join the police. It was watching me that killed your desire to become a police officer, right?

-- Episode 6

furthermore, because he's blatantly depressed, he wants nothing more than to enter the public service and gain some sense of stability in his life

Light [internally]: You can invest your life in something and it might make you money, but it won’t necessarily make you happy.

Light [internally]: As long as I can feed myself and spend my days in peace and stability, that’s all I need.

-- Episode 1

most importantly, when sachiko died, soichiro refused any of the responsibilities of a mother. he was very emotionally closed off and distant, choosing instead to throw himself even farther into his job and leave his children alone in their grief.

Soichiro: You wanted me to realize you were suffering alone. That’s what you tried to tell me, wasn’t it? If I had noticed your cries for help earlier... Your lies... Your suffering... If only I had noticed then.

-- Episode 10

instead, light is the one forced to become the “mother” of the family, so to speak, taking on both the emotional responsibilities of managing both his and his sister’s grief and raising her, as well as the associated household tasks--feeding them, cooking for them, working to put food on the table, fretting about bills, and so on.

[photo 1: sayu yagami, now a teenager presumably in high school. her hair is just past her shoulders. she is wearing a pastel purple top and cropped light blue skinny jeans. she sits on the living room couch with her knees to her chest, smart phone dangling in her hands as she turns her head, calling to light: "Hey, I'm hungry." photo 2: light's bedroom. light is jumping up from his desk in surprise, turning to face sayu, who has entered his bedroom without warning. she is wearing her school uniform. she's asking, "Hey, where's breakfast?"]

-- Episode 1

he's very maternal having to practically raise sayu from a very young age and it results in a very caring, gentle man. on top of his depression, disillusionment with soichiro’s job, and lower social class, he never has the opportunity to be a genius like manga light because he’s busy taking care of his family--he’s more occupied with seeking stability than getting ahead and playing a genius, even if he’s smart enough that he could have, in another life.

Kamoda: You’ve always beaten me on grades. You could aim a bit higher if you worked at it. Light: No thanks. No thanks.

-- Episode 1

to be clear, all of these are huge red flags for drama light suffering from parentification--specifically, instrumental parentification. i’m sure you all read the introductory quote, but here is some information on the phenomenon:

Parentification is the process of role reversal whereby a child is obliged to act as parent to their own parent or sibling. Instrumental parentification involves the child completing physical tasks for the family, such as looking after a sick relative, paying bills, or providing assistance to younger siblings that would normally be provided by a parent.

The almost inevitable byproduct of parentification is losing one's own childhood. In destructive parentification, the child in question takes on excessive responsibility in the family, without their caretaking being acknowledged and supported by others: by adopting the role of parental care-giver, the child loses their real place in the family unit and is left lonely and unsure. In extreme instances, there may be what has been called a kind of disembodiment, a narcissistic wound that threatens one's basic self-identity.

All results of parentification are negative. There are no positive byproducts; the 'maturity' and 'emotional resilience' are directly linked to their underlying anxiety and displacement in the family dynamic.

we see light acting as a parent to sayu--cooking, cleaning, working, practically raising sayu on his own while soichiro is practically out of the picture. he receives no praise for this from either his sister or his father, who take it for granted or complain to him when he doesn’t. and as many children who are forced to do so, light is left depressed, devoid of aspirations, and displaced.

the name of this meta and the graphic used to represent it is maslow’s hierarchy of needs. if you’re unfamiliar, there’s a good explanation of it at verywellmind (which i cannot link), and i bring it up because drama light and manga light fall into very different categories. manga light has made it all the way through esteem, and is currently working on his self-actualization throughout the story of Death Note:

"It may be loosely described as the full use and exploitation of talents, capabilities, potentialities, etc. Such people seem to be fulfilling themselves and to be doing the best that they are capable of doing... They are people who have developed or are developing to the full stature of which they capable."

Self-actualizing people are self-aware, concerned with personal growth, less concerned with the opinions of others, and interested in fulfilling their potential.

drama light, on the other hand, has barely even broached his social needs. his place on the pyramid is “love and belonging”--he has love, from his friend kamoda, and from sayu, even if she doesn’t appreciate him--but his relationship with his father is strained and his mother is gone, and his parentification has left him feeling out of place.

it’s these relationships, though, that are the core of why he begins using the death note to begin with. 

immediately before light gets the note, he’s working and talking with his wealthier friend kamoda, who was targeted throughout their lives by a delinquent named sakota who extorted money from kamoda through physical violence. we’re shown a younger light in high school watching this violence, incapable of helping his friend. sakota is released from prison in the first episode and immediately finds light and kamoda again, extorting money from kamoda at knifepoint.

kamoda responds like this:

[photo 1: light, as an adult, standing outside. it's night, the lighting is dim. he is scowling at sakota, who is out of view. light's internal thoughts are split between these two images. the first reads "I wish guys like him--" and the second reads, "--would just go away forever."

photo 2: light's close friend kamoda, curling in on himself in fear. his fingers are laced together and he's holding his arms to his chest, cowering. he looks afraid. he is wearing a long sleeve blue shirt and an orange backpack.]

-- Episode 1

it’s moments after this, when light is walking home, that he finds the note. he writes sakota’s name not because he’s bored, like his manga counterpart; he does it because he internalizes kamoda’s words and because both he and his best friend were threatened at knifepoint by him. even then, drama light has second thoughts, attempting to erase and then scratch out the name.

when it works, light is utterly horrified, overhearing about sakota’s heart attack while eavesdropping on his wake. he nearly has a panic attack until, once again, he hears how people respond:

[ photo 1: a public setting, in front of a funeral home. sakota's funeral has just finished. it is still daylight out. two young men in black suits have come out from the funeral home and are walking down the sidewalk. one of them asks, "Sakota did nothing but make trouble for people when he was alive, right?" light is hiding behind shrubs and a tree on the other side of the sidewalk, crouching and covering his mouth. photo 2: a close up screenshot of a hand holding a smart phone. it appears to be viewing a group chat of some kind, and multiple people are messaging it and talking about sakota's death in japanese. there are several messages that contain "WWWW" which is the japanese equivalent for "lol". one of the young men from the previous picture is saying, "Deep down, they're all relieved he's dead."]

-- Episode 1

at this point, though, light is still horrified. he wants to believe it’s fake, so he throws the note in the trash and attempts to dump it. unlike manga light, who feels the need to test it and dismiss any lingering doubts that he may have unintentionally murdered a man, drama light would rather put it out of his mind entirely.

obviously, sakota is very different from manga light’s first murder, and that’s because in the tv drama the first two murders are switched. sakota, who has a heart attack on his motorcycle, is intended to be the man manga light killed at the convenience store for sexually harassing a woman. the second murder in the tv drama is otoharada kuro, the man holding an elementary school hostage, and in this adaptation he also has a personal connection to the family: the case that soichiro was on when sachiko died was otoharada’s original arrest.

in the tv drama, otoharada takes an elementary schooler and her mother hostage in order to exchange her for soichiro himself, who he blames for his original arrest. light hears about this from matsuda, and for the third time, his sister responds like this:

[photo: a large room with several wide windows streaming light into it through white blinds. there are three rows of long desks, two chairs at each, similar to a classroom. police officers and detectives are buzzing around; some are going through files and paperwork frantically. sayu and light are in the far back on a bench against the wall. light is sitting, hands folded in his lap, as he watches his sister. sayu is standing, wearing her school uniform of a blouse, tie, and plaid skirt. she is shouting, "Just kill that scum and save my dad already!"]

-- Episode 1

light returns home and uses the note for the second time in order to save his father, who light still respects and craves the approval and emotional support of even despite their distance.

at the point of his second murder, manga light has a breakdown before almost immediately compartmentalizes his guilt and doubling down on the idea that he can do no wrong because he's been told he can't his entire life. for the first week until ryuk arrives he begins killing people in earnest, whereas drama light is deeply and profoundly horrified.

[ photo 1: a mid-chest and upwards shot of light. he is in his bedroom, looking down at the floor. he is wearing an open plaid shirt over a tee shirt. the subtitles for his internal thoughts say, "I would have been happy...just letting the days pass by uneventfully..." photo 2: a close up shot of light's face. he is wide-eyed, dragging his left hand down his cheek and staring at his right. in horror, he is saying, "I killed them."]

-- Episode 1

he ultimately ends up fleeing to a rooftop in the city and attempting to throw himself off of it before being talked out of it by ryuk. ryuk tells him that he can take the note back and erase light’s memories of it--which light nearly accepts--before mentioning that if light didn't want it, he'd give it to someone else, potentially a criminal who could do terrible things with it.

Ryuk: What if a real bastard like those guys you killed, Otoharada or Sakota, picked up that notebook? Light: No! Ryuk: The person who picks up the Death Note gets to decide how they use it.

-- Episode 1

so light takes the note.

what happens after this has been summed up by tumblr user whoresband in their post about drama light (which i can’t link due to tumblr not letting this post appear in the search but i’ll link the relevant portions and you can look it up):

when he gets the death note, he gains a power that was unavailable to him as a child. it was initially his sense of responsibility to his family and his caring nature that drove him to use it, but it was that promise of power that made him keep using it. as the series progresses, light begins to change. he tells sayu to cook for herself, to wash her own clothes. he demands a seat with his father, and sayu pours him a beer just like she did for their father. he stops being kind to misa and begins to use her as a tool for his plans. he manipulates women in his path, consistently viewing them as tools and neglecting their humanity. the death note has given him access to manhood and the freedom that it provides that he was denied by taking on the role of his mother. the death note teaches him that masculinity holds power, and he gladly takes hold of it. 

i’m not going to reinvent the wheel and just restate what this person has said, because it’s spot on, but i will provide examples--

he tells sayu to cook for herself...

[photo: light is in the yagami household, but it's difficult to say which room. the lighting is dim and it's difficult to see much of his outfit or eyes. he is saying to sayu, "Cook for yourself for once. I'm tired."]

-- Episode 1

[photo: light, sayu, and soichiro are all in their dining room. it is very busy-looking; it's full of furniture which is lined with knick knacks and thriving green potted plants. soichiro is wearing his work clothes, including a white dress shirt, and he's sitting at the table watching his children. sayu is standing between soichiro and light, with her hands on the chair next to the table. we cannot see her face, as it is turned to light, who is in the doorway. he is wearing a sort sleeved button up, unbuttoned, with a tee shirt and jeans. we can see the strap of a shoulder bag across his chest. light is saying to sayu, "Cook for yourself, for once."]

  -- Episode 2

..to wash her own clothes.

[photo 1: light and ryuk in light's bedroom, both facing sayu, who is offscreen. light is sitting at his desk, looking anxious. the shinigami ryuk is looking over him, wearing a sinister grin and wearing all black. light is saying to sayu, "Then... wash it yourself."]

-- Episode 1

...he demands a seat with his father...

[ photo: a blurry screenshot of light from the shoulders up. he is saying, "Maybe I'll have a drink."]

-- Episode 2

...and sayu pours him a beer just like she did for their father.

[photo 1: a shot of soichiro from the mid-chest up. he is wearing his white work shirt and rectangular, black glasses. he looks surprised, mouth slightly agape. he is looking at light and sayu, offscreen. light is saying, "Sayu, can I have a cup?" photo 2: the yagami family in their dining room. soichiro is sitting at the table on the viewer's right in his work shirt. one of his hands is reaching for a beer, and his other arm is resting on the chair beside him. light sits across from him on the viewer's left. sayu stands between them. she is saying, "That's unusual. Here."]

-- Episode 2

he stops being kind to misa and begins to use her as a tool for his plans 

[photo: a closeup of light's face. he looks very serious, speaking to misa. we can only see the back of her head. light is telling her, "If I think you might tell them about me, I'm writing your name in my Death Note."]

-- Episode 4

he manipulates women in his path, consistently viewing them as tools and neglecting their humanity. 

photo 1: a very close screenshot of Light's handwriting in the death note. in english, he's written, "Halle Lidner". below her name is some japanese handwriting. Light reads, “After coming to an underground parking lot in Yaehashi and giving the Death Note to a man waiting there,”]

-- Episode 10

but this isn’t the only option light yagami is offered. you may have noticed i went this entire post without mentioning the other major player in the tv drama: L. 

a large part of what drives light to ambition isn’t just receiving the note and gaining power, especially when his memories are gone and he lacks that foundation; it’s his rivalry--and then, briefly, friendship--with L. L drives him to do better, both when he’s on the opposite team and when they’re on the same one.

unfortunately, this post is getting long and in order to do the next part justice, i need to flesh out drama L and his motivations a bit more, so i’ll be posting him as a standalone post in the coming days. it’ll cover his character development in the tv drama and how he affects light in turn up until the end.

if you liked this analysis i highly recommend checking it out HERE! thanks for reading!

[bnhablessings]

Spying with Love!

NN is still going on forever in my heart. This is a one-shot I thought of to contribute to the love of Sof and NN. I imagine this would take place after Denki comes over and ruins Shouto’s OJ

Sof is an amazing writer and I love her so go check her out! @myherowritings​

(Sof you changed Todoroki for me so I had to include alien-related things in here. :’) I hope you enjoy this thing, bby! <3)

If you somehow have not read Number Neighbor please go read it. Here is the (Masterlist). You will not regret it. : )

Summary: (Name) needs to make sure her best friend is being treated well by his new boyfriend so she becomes a spy with her other roommates. Plot twist: He knows

Words: 1,798

Todoroki Shouto x Midoriya Izuku (Of course I’d grab the chance to have them be dating so yes. They are an item in this.)

Shinsou Hitoshi x Kaminari Denki

----

“Stop pushing!” You whisper-shout while glancing around the corner of the street cautiously.

The two males a few feet behind you share a glance with each other. Both are wondering who the hell you’re talking to. You turn back to look at them as you place a finger on your lips.

“(Name), this is no time to be joking around,” Todoroki murmurs as he glances at his partner with a slight serious pout.

Midoriya nods his head and tries to bring you back to their reality, “C’mon (Name). You know how Shouto gets when we’re running low on orange juice.”

“SHHHHH-“

They finally come near you and peak their own heads around the corner. To their surprise, you had spotted Shinsou and his new boyfriend they briefly met. With a smug look on your face you wiggle your eyebrows at them.

“No. We need the orange juice,” Todoroki states his eyes narrowing down slightly as he just a teeny-bit conflicted.

You’re about to get on your knees to beg the weirdo to spy with you when Midoriya pipes in with a brilliant idea.

“Why don’t we spy on them on their next date tomorrow?”

…Why didn’t you think of that?

“Wait what date?” You ask realizing you had no idea they had a date tomorrow.

Todoroki raises an eyebrow as he intertwines his hand with Midoriya’s. He’s ready to leave you for not remembering the conversation held earlier when you met Kaminari. They turn towards the direction of the grocery store and ignore your now crying form.

~*~

“What? How rude. He said we all probably look stupid,” You inform your other spies of what your bestie, Bakugou, had texted.

Todoroki wants to scoff at that response while Midoriya flushes from the slight truth of it. You give your bestie a crying emoji before deciding to text him the updates later. In the meantime, you have more important business to deal with.

You push your beanie further down on your head until it touches the top of the dark sunglasses you’re wearing. All of you are wearing dark-colored schemed clothing, beanies, and sunglasses for this important mission. Bakugou may be slightly, only a smidge, correct. You all look like you are in a cult infiltrating this mall.

The strange looks you are all getting won’t deter what needs to be done!

You make sure you keep a good distance while taking cute (kind of creepy) photos with your phone of an oblivious Shinsou and Kaminari holding hands. This goes on for a while as the three of you watch with careful and curious eyes as they do many things.

They share a smoothie together and heart is soaring from how happy Shinsou looks. Kaminari is good in your book. That is until Midoriya points out a store they are headed to. This will be the judgement of fashion.

They walk into the flashy store.

The three of you watch from the shop across. You are judging the yellow boy as he picks up a pair of clothing. “I get his theme is yellow but… Honey, no. Those don’t match.” You want to desperately call out to him.

Midoriya tilts his head, “Look. Shinsou is helping him out. Black or white goes with yellow perfectly. Maybe brown.”

“He’s giving off weird vibes… Are you sure he didn’t knock over my juice on purpose?” Todoroki glances at the two of you for confirmation.

You roll your eyes while Midoriya, in vain, does his best to comfort the dual-haired boy who is now over-analyzing everything… Which could turn to your favor in needing to know if this weird but bright kid will be good to your sarcastic best friend. It doesn’t hurt to be on the safe side.

“You know what? Maybe he did knock your orange juice over on purpose. He’s obviously not an alien as he a bit dummy in the head but- Quick, what other things have you noticed off about him?” You ask.

His eyes narrow down in focus as he starts to list things off at the top of his head, “His hair is weird with that black stripe but he seems to be born with that so never mind. I have noticed that he stutters, his skin seems to flush, his eyes go a bit sparkly, and his smile turns wider when he’s all near Shinsou. If he got abducted by an alien maybe they are using him as a test subject to watch over Shinsou. We need to find out why they would be into Shinsou though. Wait. All those symptoms… sound familiar."

Midoriya lets out a squeak as Todoroki looks at him. You are trying to hold yourself back from laughter and the pain of wanting to hit him with love.

“Midoriya, do you remember that one night a month ago when I felt a sudden chest pain in my heart?” Todoroki asks.

You remember it clearly and it’s taking all you have not to cry now. All of you were binge-watching horror movies and all you said was they looked rather cozy since they were leaning against each other. You didn’t expect Midoriya to malfunction and Todoroki to ask for clarification on the meaning “cozy”.

You don’t regret changing the context at all because it gave Midoriya the courage to confess and here we are.

Midoriya nods with a slight blush as he says, “That… That was before we started dating, Shouto.”

“Is this all a ploy from the alie-“

“Let me stop you right there, dimwit. Those chest pains were your love wavelengths are whatever. Anyway, those symptoms you listed is the proof that the Pikachu weirdo does love our boy,” You state with a smile.

It forces all of you to glance back and see the two males walk out of the store with a bag in hand.

You casually take another photo only to have someone completely photobomb it. It appears to be a girl younger than your crew and immediately your eyes widen in a slight panic. She’s being touchy with your boy.

“He was just recognized right now wasn’t he?” Midoriya questions.

You nod your head frantically ready to go fight the girl who looks to be thirteen, way too young to be thirsting after your best friend.

“No. This may be a tactic the government is using to-“ Todoroki stops talking as all three of you watch in slight horror and fascination on what is going on.

Kaminari is literally prying the girl off Shinsou. She’s screaming, making a huge scene, and refusing to let go of the purple-haired boy… She just elbowed Kaminari in the face.

“I LOVE YOUR MAPLESTORY VIDEOS! PLEASE HUG ME BACK!” Her voice is so loud it made your heart jump out of fright.

Midoriya is conflicted as he asks, “Do we um… go help defuse this?”

“We aren’t here and we don’t know them,” Todoroki replies with ease while reaching for Midoriya’s hand and the back of your shirt with the other.

Yeah, he knows everything. You were ready to go “scold” a child.

“This can be Kaminari’s test since he is a fellow fan of Shinsou,” Midoriya notes.

…He does have a point. This would be a wonderful test to see how far Kaminari will go for Shinsou. Plus, it’ll be interesting to watch… Todoroki lets go of both of you and already has his phone out recording this monstrosity.  

Honestly, the whole thing got really weird and petty fast. Kaminari and the girl start a screaming match at each other. They are shouting which videos are the best and when they saw it. Finally, Kaminari grows a pair and stands up to the terrifying child.

“Listen- You are a baby. You stand no chance with him. He is on a God tier level,” Kaminari says.

He has the audacity to snap his fingers at her.

Instead of the tears, you were expecting, she goes crazy. She finally lets go of Shinsou and lunges herself at the poor now traumatized blond.  

Before she can cause any damage a new and incredibly buff stranger appears. His voice is deep and honestly, you can see Kaminari having a heart attack as the stranger addresses him.

“You. Why are you upsetting my baby sister?”

OH GOD. Is this really about to get worse??

Todoroki thankfully stopped filming and is on board with defusing this now dangerous situation. He grew a heart seeing as Kaminari won’t have a pretty face if this continues on. Midoriya is the first to reveal that you are all here, by casually saying hello with a constipated look on his face.

You don’t blame him.

“Stay out of this squirts. I’m talking to Pikachu over here and I am not repeating myself.”

To your complete and utter surprise, Kaminari starts to laugh. Shinsou finally moves like he hasn’t been on pause this whole time and gives the guy and girl ten bucks each. He thanks them and they leave content.

“What just happened?” You ask voicing Midoriya’s thoughts.

Todoroki seems a bit annoyed as he mumbles, “I knew this was a ploy. I just thought it’d be by the government.”

“You should have seen your faces! How was my acting?” Kaminari questions in-between his laughing.

Shinsou just smirks as he states, “You really need to learn how to be better spies. Also, don’t voice your entire plan over breakfast.”

“…You are telling me you weren’t gone this morning? And that whole scene just now was all an act? Those were actors?” Midoriya is the one voicing your question now.

You feel quite stupid yet impressed when Shinsou nods.

“You gave me a fright. Anyway, I’m just happy that you two seem to be good for each other! Though, Kaminari, if you do anything to him that he doesn’t like, you will be answering to us personally!” You try to glare at him.

You just look like an angry teddy bear. Midoriya copied you and looks like an angry cinnamon roll. Thankfully, Todoroki actually looks menacing as he glares at the blond (mostly because he still believes he’s been abducted).

Shinsou finally wears that lazy smile on his face and says in a rather sincere voice, “Thank you guys for worrying about me.”

“Anytime, my sweet baby!” You pull him into a hug.

Shinsou continues as he makes eye contact with his boyfriend, “You heard them. You’ll after face them if you ever hurt me. Though, I should warn you that I carry sharp objects around for fun.”

Kaminari gulps out of nervousness for a second before he laughs. Yeah, he thinks Shinsou is joking but you know better. All that matters is that they seem to genuinely like each other now and that makes you happy for them.

[pkmnclifford]

home. 1

so, this is my first fic ever. i was planning on making different parts as i have the full story in my head already, but i’m not sure!! i hope you’ll like it!! i got inspired by michael’s final fantasy x tattoo. this is a muke fic. thank you so much sweet lou @cliiffords for helping me out with writing this!!! you're a sweetheart ily

summary: michael used to be a rockstar in his hometown. but somehow he blacked out, and now he’s in an unknown city. he finds luke, who will help him to go back home and find out who he truly is.

word count: 2k

warnings: panic attack, blood

taglist: @phantastic1daf​ @talksopretty​ @twilightmomentswithyou​ @babyoria​ @calumspeachy​ @lukeysdimples​ @bloodmoonclifford​ (i tagged recent mutuals!! if it bothers anyone i’ll remove the tags lol)

Michael opened his eyes. He was laying down, on what felt like wet, soft ground. His back hurt, he saw flashes of light behind his eyelids and he had a violent headache. Pushing on his arms, he tried to sit up and saw he was alone, in what looked like some kind of garden. For as far as he could see, there were flowers, green grass, a warm ray of sunshine kissing his face whilst a cool breeze tingled his ears. Looking up, he saw the blue sky and rays of dappled sunshine coming through a tree’s branches, kissing his face. The air was warm, like on a soft spring morning. Michael closed his eyes and sighed.

He couldn't remember how he got there. He could only recall the last thing he saw before falling into darkness: bright, blue eyes, and a hand reaching for his own, desperately. He didn’t know anyone with those eyes. He couldn’t remember anything.

"What happened?" he asked himself, rubbing his eyes.

He tried to concentrate, not paying attention to the distant sound of traffic. He breathed, slowly. He usually did this when he got anxious: sit down, and breathe. His fingers clutched the grass he was sitting on. The cold contact with the wet ground made him shiver. He tried to tell himself what he knew. What he could remember.

"My name is Michael Clifford, I'm 24. I'm a singer. I was at a concert. Wait, was it my own concert? I can't remember... What the fuck happened..." He muttered, taking his head his in his hands. Everything was a blur. As he took his hands off his face, he noticed his left arm felt hot, as though he had burnt himself. He tried to pull up the sleeve of his sweater but didn’t see anything but his armband tattoos. Seeing they were still on his skin comforted him somehow.

He tried to stand up and looked around. He was sitting in a field of daisies, surrounded by sounds he recognized as coming from birds and crickets. He also recognized other kinds of flowers: dandelions, lilacs and...

Roses. Red roses.

He walked to the roses as if they were calling him. When he got closer, the smell immediately reminded him of something.

"Home. I need to go home."

Without thinking, he carefully plucked a rose and cradled it against his heart. A single tear rolled down his cheek, even though he couldn't explain why. He remembered red roses, the red roses from home.

"HEY! YOU!"

Michael jumped. Someone was yelling at him. And that someone was a few steps away.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY GARDEN? GET OFF MY ROSES!"

Unable to tell who was behind the bushes, Michael took a step back and ran away from the voice, which was getting closer, the rose still in his hand. He suddenly stumbled on a rock and winced as a rose's thorn simultaneously sliced through his hand. Confused and scared, he was still running despite not knowing where to, not paying attention to the blood streaming down his wrist.

He reached a fence behind a big tree and jumped over it. The fence was higher than expected and Michael fell on hard ground as he tripped over it. He let out a whine, feeling an excrutiating pain in his shoulder. He had fallen on the pavement, right in front of someone's feet.

"Hey mate! Be careful!"

Michael looked up and saw a boy around his age looking down at him.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" The boy asked, noticing Michael's bloody hand. He reached out his hand to him, as if he wanted to help him getting up.

Michael couldn't say anything. He was mesmerized by the boy's blue eyes and he squeezed his hand harder around the rose he was still holding, not even noticing the thorns making new wounds in his palm. Those eyes. He recognized those eyes. Those eyes were the same ones he saw before he fainted.

The boy was looking worriedly at him. Michael noticed he had blonde curls framing his face. He was wearing black jeans and a printed white tee, a silver necklace shining on his chest, reflecting sunlight in Michael’s green eyes. Without thinking, Michael took his hand and the stranger helped him to get up.

"Someone will have to take care of that hand of yours, it doesn't look good. Where do you live?"

Michael just stared at him. He didn't remember anything and also didn't want to explain everything that has happened to him to a stranger, even though the boy seemed to be very nice. His headache was getting worse and he felt like he was going to faint again. The blonde boy smiled at him.

"Alright, mysterious rose boy. Can you at least tell me your name, and I'll help you get that hand cleaned up. I'm Luke, what's your name?"

"M-Michael. I'm Michael."

"Nice to meet you Michael! I live like two blocks away, do you want to go at my place? I could at least clean up your hand a bit?"

Michael blushed. Why was this stranger so nice to him? Suddenly feeling the pain in his hand, he looked down. The rose had fallen on the floor, his bloody fingers were dripping. He gasped and looked up, noticing people on the street were starting to stare, which started to make him feel rather uncomfortable. Luke seemed nice and caring though, and he was still completely lost.

"Yes, that would be nice" Michael whispered.

"Great! This way, come with me!" Luke said softly, immediately taking Michael's clean hand in his and leading him towards the end of the street. Michael felt his cheeks heat up at the sudden contact with the blonde boy. Walking a little faster to catch Luke's pace, he looked around, looking for something familiar that would tell him where he was. He walked by coffeeshops and small stores, surrounded by strangers, faces he couldn’t recognize. Meanwhile, Luke was asking a hundred different questions.

"So, what happened exactly? I saw you coming out of Adam's garden, that old man is crazy. What were you doing there? Everyone in the neighbourhood knows you don't go there. But you're not from here, right? And what's with the rose? How did you..."

Luke had continued walking, but he suddenly wasn't feeling Michael's hand in his anymore. Turning around, he saw Michael standing a few steps away, looking around. He looked like a stranger in a new world, his striped black and white sweater covered in blood stains on his right sleeve. 

"Michael?" Luke called. Getting closer to him, Luke gasped quietly as he saw tears streaming down the fringed boy's cheeks. He wanted to help him, even though he had no idea how to. He believed Michael had been through a traumatizing experience, but now was not the time to harrass him with questions that could hurt him.

"Michael what's wrong? I don't live that far away, don't worry you'll be okay!" Luke tried to reassure him. "Is it your hand?"

"I don't know wh-where I am, I just don't know" Michael cried out. "I want to go home."

Luke froze as he saw Michael was now shaking uncontrollably. He was clearly having a panic attack. The blonde boy put his arm around his shoulders, softly leading to the edge of the sidewalk to sit down next to him.

"Listen Michael, I don't know what happened to you but I want to help you" Luke said. He was now holding Michael's hands in his, not minding the blood. Crying quietly, Michael was out of breath but couldn't calm down. He looked up and tried to concentrate on Luke's blue eyes, strangely attracted to his soft gaze, noticing the way his nose curved a little up, and how a single curl fell on his forehead, as the blonde boy continued talking to him, trying to calm him down.

"You don't have to explain me anything right now, okay? I'm sorry if I asked so many questions, I'm way too talkative sometimes. Just breathe, you'll be okay. Everything will be okay."

His heartbeat going back to normal, Michael sighed slowly. He felt so thankful to have found Luke. He could have been all alone in this nightmare, but at least he found someone who was nice enough to stay with him and help him out. All this time, Luke hadn't let go of his hands. As the heavy sound of his headache becoming louder, Michael realized how tired he was.

"Are you alright?" Luke whispered. "We should go get your hand cleaned up first, we wouldn't want it to get infected. Then we'll see what we'll do, okay?"

Michael nodded. He just needed to sleep. Sleep forever, maybe. Even though he wasn't usually the kind of person to trust strangers, he had a feeling that he could trust Luke. Getting up, Luke once again reached out his hand to help him. His dizziness made Michael trip but he held on Luke's shirt to prevent falling.

"Th-Thank you" Michael managed to mutter. "I'm sorry for bothering you." He just wanted to cry again.

"No problem, you're not bothering me at all, Michael. I'm glad I can help someone" Luke smiled, as Michael leaned on his arm. "I'm glad I met you."

Michael felt like him meeting Luke didn’t happen for nothing and he was convinced Luke had something to do with what happened to him. Was the blonde boy feeling it too? Michael didn’t know. They walked quietly to Luke’s house. It was a pretty little house, the sort of one you see in movies; with a wooden fence lead to a small garden where grew different kinds of vegetables. Stairs were going up to Luke’s door, painted in a strawberry red shade which contrasted with the house’s white walls, but matched the window shutters. Luke went up the stairs and got out his keys, opening the door and turning around. Michael was standing in front of the stairs, suddenly hesitating.

“If you don’t want to go in, I can just go grab some bandages and stuff inside and clean your hand up here?” Luke suggested as he saw Michael’s hesitant attitude.

The fringed boy was amazed by Luke’s kindness. What kind of stranger would offer to help you just like that? Thankful, he nodded. Luke smiled and said “Be right back.”

Luke disappeared in through the door frame, and Michael stood there and waited for a few minutes. His hand was stinging but he didn’t dare to look at it. Thoughtlessly, he sat down on the stairs, his head against the railing, bringing his knees to his chest. He was in pain. And he was so tired.

When Luke came back, he saw Michael sitting there. “Thank god I found some bandages, thought I ran out of it. I also found...”

Looking closely, he saw that Michael had fallen asleep, a peaceful expression on his face. Chuckling, Luke softly shook the sleepy boy’s shoulders to wake him up.

“Michael” he whispered. Michael suddenly opened his eyes, and when he realized he had indeed fallen asleep on a stranger’s front porch, he felt his cheeks heat up, embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry, I fell asleep, I’m sorry...” Michael stuttered, ashamed as he felt tears forming in his eyes again.

“No need to apologize, it’s okay” Luke laughed. “Maybe it’s better if you go inside, so you can lay down. You look exhausted.”

Once again, Michael’s dizziness made him lean on Luke, who helped him getting through the door frame. They got in, and Luke showed him his couch. He layed him down slowly, putting a pillow under his head. Michael felt so embarrassed.

“Thank you, it’s too much, you don’t need to...” he said but Luke shushed him immediately.

“Hush, I’ll let you sleep in a minute. But first, your hand.”

Michael stayed quiet as the blonde boy took his wounded hand on his lap, opening the bottle of antiseptic product. “This is going to sting a little bit.” Luke said. He took a cotton pad and started dabbing it on Michael’s wounds. The injured boy winced at the sudden pain but didn’t say anything, biting on his lip. Luke carefully cleaned the blood off his hand and put a bandage around it.

“There you go, all cleaned up!” Luke said joyfully. “I hope it’s going to stay in place, if not I’ll just...”

But Michael had already fallen asleep again. Luke softly put his banded hand next to his head, resting on the pillow, and covered Michael up in a blanket.

“Sleep tight, rose boy.”

[badolmen]

@billy-hoepe @bonniebunz @softupshur, @bandtrees everybody else who liked/reblogged the first, second, and third chapter- y’all’re awesome and cool and your tags and comments inspire me to keep writing! I hope something nice happens to you this month!

“Not gonna lie Upshur, that kid’s weird,” Piper said, pulling the curtain around the table. Miles swallowed the lump of fear in his throat, hoping those shadows licking at the edge of Billy’s frame were just his sleep deprived and traumatized mind playing tricks on his eyes.

“Doesn’t say much though, seems pretty quiet,” Billie muttered, swatting Miles’ hands away as she undid his button down, the shirt sticky with half dried blood. “We don’t need to worry about him talking, do we Miles?”

“No – no, he won’t-”

“Will you?” Piper asked, voice sing song soft as she pressed stinging antiseptic solution to the stubs of his fingers. Miles flinched away, but in spite of her small stature, Piper firmly held his hand in place.

“I wouldn’t have come here if – you know I wouldn’t do anything like that, right?” His words were strained, calm forced into his face as Billie turned to a table of tools.

“You’re a – well, you were a big shot reporter, buddy,” Buddy. Piper barely noticed Miles’ breath hitch.

“Relax Miles,” Billie said, tapping the needle in her hand, bubbles floating to the top. “Pip’s just being a jerk,” She brought the needle to his hand, giving him a glance. “It’s a local anesthetic, we need to clean up those cuts, you’ll feel the pressure but not the pain,”

Miles gave a grim smile, watching Piper set out scalpels and clippers and gauze. Billie set to work at the bullet buried in his shoulder, prodding the wound cautiously.

“By the way Miles, who the hell were you fucking with? Must be big fish if you’re here and not a hospital,” Piper asked, Miles looking away and ignoring the warmth of fresh blood as she began work on his left hand.

“Mount Massive,” He managed through gritted teeth, Billie still cautiously picking at the bullet wound. Piper looked up, eyes bright with recognition.

“Oh, cool! I had a girlfriend who worked there a while ago, think she got laid off recently actually, or maybe it was maternity leave? Haven’t talked to her in a while, we aren’t that close anymore.” There was a clatter as she set a bloody tool back into the metal tray.  

“The hell were you doin’ up there? Not officially reporting ‘em or something, right? Thought you got fired or whatever after that stunt you pulled overseas,”

“Murkoff-” Miles inhaled sharply, Billie’s knife hitting a nerve. The sisters shared a glance. Piper sighed, cauterization of wounds filling the air with an all too familiar stench. There was an uncharacteristic rush to Billie’s movements as she continued to work the bullet from his shoulder.

“You two can’t come back here, got it? Soon as the sun’s up you’re on your own,” Her voice was quiet, nearly a whisper. Miles gave a stiff nod. “We don’t fuck with those guys, they’ve got a hand in every pocket; they’re real serious about whistleblowers and shit, they’ll ruin you, if they don’t outright kill ya,”

“They sure as hell tried,” Miles said with a dark chuckle, wincing as Piper began working on his right hand.

“Yeah, but they like to be thorough,” Piper glanced to her sister as the other woman finally pulled a chunk of bullet from Miles’ shoulder. “They’ll track you down, find everybody you talked to and do worse to them,” Miles’ eyes flashed to Piper as she snipped a jagged fingerbone to a cleaner cut. “Basically, Billie and I might be fucked for helping you,”

“I don’t – I don’t think we were followed,” Miles managed, Billie stitching his shoulder with a practiced hand. Piper gave a shrug.

“Good thing your mama’s way back in the East, wouldn’t want any of those goons visiting her,” The smaller woman said, holding one of Miles numbed hands still as she began to bandage the wounds. Miles jerked on the bench, but Billie held him down as she set a bandage to the wound on his chest, pressing against bruises and broken ribs.

“Easy, you might not be feeling much now, but tomorrow you’re gonna wish-”

“No, no, not that,” He said with a groan, already feeling the aches of his new stitches. His head looked to the curtain, the room outside very still and quiet. “He’s been talking about going back to his mom’s-”

“Don’t,” Piper said, voice soft as she took the tray of bloody tools away from the table.

“I know, but-”

“Listen, Miles, if you went to Mount Massive, found that kid, and took him…Murkoff is gonna consider you for one, a thief or kidnapper or whatever depending on how important that guy is, and two, an insurance nightmare. They’ve got a lot of money they’d rather not part with in lawsuits.”

A rhythmic knock rapped at the door. Billie glanced at her phone.

“Kev’s here,” She said, wiping blood from her hands and setting aside clean bandages. “I texted him earlier, to bring some stuff for you two, when you first knocked. Clothes, y’know? So you’re less recognizable.”

“And you told him to stop by Lee’s, right? For dinner? I’m starving,” Piper said, wrapping Miles’ hand in clean, white gauze.

“Yeah, yeah,” Billie said, pulling the curtain away and walking to the door. Miles looked to the couch, Billy’s form small and shivering. He swallowed a lump in his throat, hoping the sisters didn’t notice the darkness swarming behind the younger man’s blank eyes, the tendrils of nanites writhing across his body and blending with the shadows.

The door opened with a click, and Billy snapped out of it, the darkness dissipated by a single cough, eyes unfocused but clear.

“I got the stuff,” A new voice said, the crinkle of plastic bags accompanied by the smell of grease and spices. Kevin stepped through the door, Billie planting a kiss on her husband’s cheek. He nearly took up the whole door frame, ducking to keep from hitting his head on the light fixture that dangled in front of the door. He gave a nod to Miles, who could only give a weak smile in return.

“Gimme!” Piper squealed, Billy flinching away as the woman darted across the room to acquire a container of Chinese food. “Sorry Billy boy, a girl’s gotta eat,”

“Hold up Pip, we’ve gotta finish up with Upshur first,” Billie chided, Kevin pulling the bags of food up to the ceiling. Piper groaned, sulking back to Miles with comical disappointment. “Kev, could you, uh, hang out with Billy over there ‘til we’re done? You got some stuff for him, right?”

“Yeah, had Chris go through their things, pick out stuff they wanted to donate to the thrift store, figured this was about the same kinda charity, right?” Kev said, holding out a different grocery bag to his wife. Billie nodded at the contents.

“Cool, I’ll finish up quick, make sure Billy’s good, but then these two gotta stay the night,” She said, giving Kevin a tight smile. “Date night tomorrow night sound good?” Kevin grimaced.

“Chris’ got-”

“Right, SAT practice…damn, well, we’ll figure it out,” She pulled the curtain back across the divider, Kevin setting the bags of food on the table.

“Hey little guy,” He said, voice quiet and movements slow as he approached the couch, bag of clothes in hand. Billy recoiled at the words, shrinking deeper into the cushions. Kevin stopped walking. “Just got some stuff for ya, mind if I sit next to you?”

Billy’s eyes darted from the curtain to the giant of a man. Where did Mom go? How did he find her if he never left?

The man repeated his question. Billy nodded. It was better to let him do what he wanted. Safer. It couldn’t hurt worse than the ache in his chest.

“Here,” He said, setting the bag of clothes between them. “Chris is pretty big for their age and you seem a little small for yours so there should be some stuff in there that’ll fit you. Miles will just have to make do with the baggier stuff.” His smile was encouraging, gentle. “Sorry if it’s a little…unique. Chris has been going through some phases lately, but that just means more variety for you,”

Billy slowly leaned toward the bag, eyes catching glimpses of clothes. Stripes, plaids, polka dots, and sequins. Crop tops, flannels, button downs, sweaters, and vests. Shorts, jeans, cargo pants, sweat pants, and skirts. He glanced back to Kevin.

“Take what you want, it’s for you and Upshur, the rest is going to Good Will,”

Billy sifted through the clothes, trying to remember what he liked. When was the last time he picked out a shirt? Asked for a new pair of pants? Most of his clothes at home were hand-me-downs. He knew he didn’t like the uniform they gave him at the asylum. And that he didn’t like the shorts he wore in the cold place.

He liked Miles’ jacket. It was warm. It smelled like coffee and smoke, under the sickening scent of blood. Billy picked out clothes like that. Clothes that reminded him of Miles. A pale button down with plaid patterning. A cozy blue flannel. Worn but comfortable looking jeans. Soft socks with rubber grippers along the sole.

Kevin had taken out a container of food, picking at the contents with chop sticks as Billy sorted through the articles and compiled his favorites around him. On the table, Miles slowly sat up, blood and grime wiped away to reveal a patchwork of stitches and bruises and clean bandages left behind from the sisters’ work.

“You look like shit Upshur,” Kev said, gesturing with his chopsticks and eyes settling on the man’s hands as the reporter tried to push himself to his feet.

“Take it easy,” Billie hissed, grabbing his good shoulder. “Let’s get you to the couch. We’ll give Billy boy a quick check up then let you two rest up. You’re gonna need it.” The woman walked Miles to the seat, Kev reaching over Billy to pass on the bags full of clothes to the dazed patient.

“Kid, leave your stuff on the couch and come over here so we can get a better look at you,” Piper’s voice was friendly. Soft and inviting. And every fiber of Billy’s body screamed that it was a trap. Another test. Soft voices always led to numbing needles and suffocating quiet and then he would be underwater again, drowning but not drowning and breathing without air –

“Easy kiddo,” Kev’s voice rumbled beside him, a hand gripping his shoulder. Billy’s own hands were shaking, pins and needles loosening his grip on the clothes in his grasp. Darkness flickered at the edges of his vision, the ghostly afterimages from the Engine blurry against the white light from the makeshift operating room.

“Billy,” Miles. He knew Miles. Miles was safe. Never a trick. Never a lie. Not yet, at least. “You need to breathe,” He couldn’t see Miles, his vision crawling with those half corporeal insects that always seemed to eat his eyes and burrow into his skull. But Miles was there, a hardly felt warmth beside him. And Billy needed to breathe.

With a shaky inhale, chest aching for air, Billy blinked tears from his eyes, vision refocusing on his numb, shaking hands. And Miles’ hand, a mangled mess of bandages and bruises, gently rubbing some sensation back into Billy’s unfeeling palm. He lifted his eyes slowly, Piper and Billie and Kev seemingly unperturbed by the disturbance.

“They’re gonna help, okay? Not gonna hurt you,” Miles forced a smile, nodding to the sisters. Billy looked over Miles’ face, not quite meeting his eyes as he scanned the fresh stitches and bandages.

Eventually, he managed a stiff nod. Miles hadn’t hurt him yet, and the icy shadow that breathed down his back when the doctors lied and the nurses muttered under their breath was a distant chill. The people here were yet to pose a threat to him, at least, as far as the static specter in the back of his mind was concerned.  Billy stood on shaking legs, shuffle toward the waiting women.

“Easy, easy,” Piper said, hands hovering around him without making contact as she guided him to the operating room. “Can you sit here on your own?” Billy managed himself up onto the cold, metal table, his own body far away and actions automatic. He focused on his breathing, chest hollow and rattling with every exhale.

“It’s alright, you aren’t the first to freak out, won’t be the last,” Billie muttered, a sincere attempt of comfort him somewhere in her tone. He could hardly hear her, keeping his focus on Miles, who seemed equally anxious that they finish looking over Billy’s bruises and cuts.

“You’re in rough shape kid, but you’re doin’ a helluva lot better than Upshur,” Piper said, smile across her face, hands gentle as they held Billy’s head up to force his eyes to meet her own. “A lot of water, some food, and sleep will do you a lot of good.”

“Really?” Miles’ voice was hoarse, a whisper in the quiet room that drew all eyes to him. “He’s okay?”

“Far as I can tell,” Piper said, giving the journalist a shrug. “Physically speaking. Bruises, cuts, easy antiseptic wash and band aid. Throat is raw as hell but the best he can do is take it easy.” She guided Billy back to the couch, her hand gently resting on his shoulder.

“We need to clean up for the night, then we’ll put the lights out. I’ll take first watch,” Billie supplied as she stepped back into the operating room, moving a tray of bloodied tools to the sink. “Get some fresh clothes on and get some rest.”

“I’ve got to go make sure Chris’ sleeping well. I’ll pick you two up in the morning,” Kev said, pulling his wife into a hug before heading back to the door. “Night,”

“Night,” The sisters echoed back, softly rummaging back in the operating room.

Miles was already asleep, breathing deep and slow, broken ribs aching against bandaged skin. He looked cold. Billy shed the blood stained jacket, placing it over Miles’ sleeping form. The clothes were warm and dry and smelled of fabric softener. Mom never used fabric softener; it was too expensive to buy regularly.

But there was something comforting in the floral scent, the freshness of the clothes compared to the dingy couch beneath him. How long had it been since he had dressed himself? Without doctors and nurses buzzing around him like anxious mosquitoes, needles at the ready full of sedative?

He curled into a ball at the opposite end of the couch, listening to Miles’ breathing and the sisters’ quiet murmurs. Eventually the room grew quiet. And the light went out.

[survivingthejungle]

never fade away viii

FINALLY, GOD

You tried your hardest to control the sinking feeling in your stomach, but no matter what, you couldn’t stop it. The large cup of iced coffee you were sucking down certainly wasn’t helping, but it did give you the energy you knew you were desperately lacking. Your phone was in your other hand, held in a death grip, while you were sending a text to a small group of close friends inquiring after you.

e: you got this baby

l: i love you and i know you can handle anything. you are a badass and so incredibly strong and i admire your courage and selflessness.

c: Call us as soon as you can and we will have a movie night tonight to forget all about it

You sent a quick message back to them once the guard at the front office motioned for you to follow after.

y/n: wish me luck i hate this so much and i love you all

“We can’t permit outside belongings in this visiting room,” the guard informed you. There was a small metal table outside of the room you were soon to be entering, and you put all of your belongings down on it, suddenly feeling very empty and anxious and restless and fidgety. “Ms. (Y/L/N),” he addressed you again, “I can tell that you’re nervous and that is completely understandable and expected. I just wanna let you know that we aren’t going to let anything happen to you in there. The minute you want to go, you let us know and we’ll get you out in the blink of an eye. He’s got armed guards watching him, he’s restrained, and there’s bulletproof glass in between. I promise you you’ll be safe.”

“Thank you, it means a lot. I guess I better get this over with.” With that, he opened the heavy metal door for you and you entered into a plain, dark, windowless room with cinderblock walls and a concrete floor. At the wall adjacent to you was a thick glass window with chicken wire in between two panes, and on the other side of that window sat the boy who had been tormenting you for the past year and a half. Kidnapping, assaulting, overall traumatizing… and yet you had still agreed to visit him per his request. He was wearing the characteristic striped jumpsuit adorned by all inmates, and the sides of his head were shaved. The face that had once been stapled on was now held in place by stitches and surgical glue, and somehow made him look even more menacing. Even through all your layers—a t-shirt, overalls, and a cozy windbreaker—his stare alone managed to send shivers down your spine and spread goosebumps across your skin.

He was the first to break the silence. “Fancy seeing you here!” he cackled, grinning madly. “D’you come just to visit little old me?”

“I came because I don’t want any more people dying.”

“Always the savior,” he commented, on the verge of an eye-roll. “C’mon, sit down closer. Not like I can come near ya, anyhow.” He gestured to the window. You followed suit and shrunk back into yourself, arms locked tightly to your sides and legs locked together, feet curling up beneath the chair. “Ya look nervous. Is it the scars?” he asked you, pointing to his face.

You scoffed. “I’m not scared of you,” you told him, not the jumpy little girl you had been for so long anymore. A new wave of courage pulsed through you. “I’m sick of you.” His eyebrows raised, goading you on. “I’m sick of you trying to get in my head, and freak me out, and take me away from everyone I love. You should have stayed dead.”

“Not exactly the reunion I was hoping for, babe,” he chuckled, clearly trying to mask the hurt he felt at your words (however slight it was).

“Don’t call me that.”

“Jeez, so hostile! What’s got you acting like this, (Y/N)? What happened to that sweet girl I used to know, huh?” You stared him down for a moment, formulating a response.

“You stole me away from my family and my friends because you thought I was sweet? Is that it? Because you think I’m pretty or something, you decided you should just go ahead and ruin my life? And then you have the nerve,” you let out a breathy laugh, beginning to tear up but not wanting to let them spill, “To expect me to—what, to just run back to your arms at your beck and call? I’m not some object you can just keep around for entertainment, okay, I’m not a pet for you to play around with. Keep fucking threatening guards, inmates, I don’t care. I never want to see your ugly face again.” He remained silent, face stoic.

“Sunshine, listen—”

“NO!” you roared, standing up from your seat. “That is not my name! Okay? Don’t use fucking pet names on me and act like we’re some functioning couple, we aren’t. You keep coming back to find a new way to ruin my life and I have had enough…” A few tears that you had tried your hardest to hold back spilled down your cheeks. “You’re locked up in a fucking prison and yet somehow still managed to find a way to make me miserable. It’s amazing, really. Super impressive how dedicated you are to making me wish I were dead! Look me in the face,” you snapped, leaning down to the glass to stare at him. “We are not a ‘thing’, I am not your little girlfriend, I am not your pet, and you do not get to tell me how things work anymore. I’m done. It’s over. You lost this game, Jerome, and you can try all you want to get me to come back but I will never see you ever again. I hope you are miserable and rotting away in here for the rest of your life.” You backed away from the window, not ever bothering to listen to his protests of your storming out. You pried open the heavy door and stepped out of the room and grabbed your stuff, thanking the officer and showing yourself the way out. Emotions still on high and adrenaline still pumping, you four-way called your friends. “Do you guys wanna meet at my house? I need to see you all.”

—

You awoke among a pile of pillows and people in your basement on the couch facing the T.V. Elle was at the opposite end of you, halfway draped over Cara and bundled in a thick duvet from one of the closets. Your right leg was lodged beneath the both of them, and Laura was leaning up against you from the other side, using your left shoulder as a pillow. Your own pillow was still underneath your head and a blanket was being shared between you and Cara while Laura had managed to find one for herself. The sun was shining in through the windows and you could hear music coming from upstairs, as well as all the noises accompanied with cooking breakfast. Elle was the first to wake up soon after you. “Is your dad making breakfast?” She asked you, still groggy from her rest and struggling to keep her eyes open.

“I think so, do you wanna go up?”

“No,” she groaned, “I wanna go back to sleep!”

“Too late, we’re already awake,” you argued, “Let’s go!” She and you both untangled yourself from the pile and headed upstairs, catching whiffs of freshly brewed coffee, waffles, and eggs. “Mornin’, dad,” you greeted your father, who was standing at the stove and scrambling the eggs.

“Mornin’, kids. What happened to the rest of your friends? Did they disappear?”

“They’re still asleep because they’re lazy,” Elle joked, and you all three laughed.

“Well, that’s alright, because you guys will just get the better waffles.” There was a large plate of them on the counter next to the stove, covered by tin foil and waiting to be devoured. You and Elle both grabbed plates off of the table behind him and piled your plates with all the food you could manage. You sat yourselves in the living room, some old movie playing on TCM while you ate in relative silence.

Your mother entered the kitchen, still in her pajamas and just barely awake enough to function. “Hun, will you go get the mail real quick?” she asked you.

“Sure,” you assured her, and dashed outside once you slipped on a pair of old sandals. You reached the mailbox and removed all the contents, flipping through it on the off chance that anything had arrived for you. Toward the bottom pile was a letter addressed to you, and on the envelope there was an official seal from—of course. Arkham Asylum. And so you could only guess who had sent the letter to you. Absentmindedly making your way back inside, you were solely focused on the letter as you made a beeline for your room and shut the door behind you. You took a deep breath, leaning against the door, and broke the seal. Did you even want to open it? Did you want to run the risk of seeing the contents? Was it worth it at all?

The letter was sharp, scribbly handwriting with a mix between cursive and print.

Hey, Sunshine.

I couldn’t help but think a lot about what you said after you left today.

He wrote this yesterday?

You shouldn’t have said all that stuff. I know you didn’t mean it and you were just upset. And I’m sorry I made you cry, even though you’re so pretty when you cry. You aren’t a pet to me, you’re my girl, and you should realize that by now. I know you are going to need some time to process and I will be waiting here for you when you come back.

Until I see you again I am going to write to you every day. I miss you. I look forward to seeing you soon, sweet girl.

Jerome

After you had read through it twice, you crumbled it up and threw it away. You weren’t going to let him get to your head and upset you anymore. You even told yourself you wouldn’t open his letters once you got them.

But that was a lie, you knew it. You couldn’t help but open them, and read them; as much as you hated what he did to you, you would always be curious to see what he had to say. You kept your resolve of ignoring him, however.

Each day he found a new way to almost make you feel guilty for not responding or visiting.

I’m still waiting for you. I’ll always wait for you.

Wasn’t I good to you? I never hurt you.

Darling

Sweetheart

Pretty girl

Honey bee

Don’t forget about me. I never forget about you.

And sometimes there would be threats, too. Those were the days you didn’t feel guilty, more like anxious.

I’ll find you again one day. I always do.

People are getting hurt because of you. You don’t want them to keep getting hurt. You’re too kind for that. Be a good girl and come back.

I’m not happy with you today. You keep disobeying me.

And, true to his word, the letters continued to come in every day. You kept them all in a shoebox in the bottom of your closet; hidden away out of sight but still there. You weren’t really sure why you hadn’t just thrown them all away, or burnt them. Surely it wasn’t for sentimental reasons, but you really just didn’t want to let them go. Sometimes they made you feel good about yourself, like when he told you how much he missed you and thought of you all day and reminded you of how beautiful he thought you were. But even the ones that weren’t as sweet, that left threats dangling above your head like the Sword of Damocles, you couldn’t throw away.

And one day, the letters stopped coming. You kept rereading his most recent letter over and over, trying to understand what had happened. You’d almost become dependent on receiving them every day; they were the one constant that you’d had recently. I know I’ll see you soon. I can’t wait. Can you?

Can you?

Can you?

enjoy another silly little moodboard that i was using for inspo when i wrote this