#through his grief and anger in a productive way

[t-u-i-t-c]

"Mission clear."

+ bonus

[punkshort]

Evergreen | Chapter Two: Anger

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: After his brother knocks some sense into him, Joel apologizes and you both decide to take things slow... until an unexpected guest arrives at the very worst time.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, grief, mentions of OC deaths, mostly Joel POV but it swaps back and forth, smutty thoughts, fluff, really super soft Joel, sexual tension

WC: 10.7K

Series Masterlist

Idiot, idiot, idiot.

Oh, you stupid fucking idiot.

Joel somehow drove himself back home, but he couldn't remember a single second of the drive. He had been on autopilot while his mind replayed that moment with you over and over and over again. The way you smelled, the way your soft lips felt pressed against his, the way your hand caressed his cheek. Shock was too small a word to describe how he felt. He was so damn rusty and so taken aback that he knew he didn't handle it right. Your face was filled with shame and embarrassment, apologies tumbling from your lips while he just fucking sat there in a stunned silence. Eventually, he jumped up and raked his fingers through his hair, looking everywhere but at you until he mumbled something about needing to go.

Of course, you still insisted he take the leftovers home. Another reminder of how kind and generous you were, so what the hell were you doing kissing someone like him? You could have anyone you wanted. You had your whole life ahead of you.

Fuck! He should have said something. He shouldn't have let you spiral. He barely remembered to thank you before he left. Did he even say good bye?

Too late now.

Once he was safely parked in his driveway, he slumped against the steering wheel and closed his eyes. His body sagged under the weight of the past hour, the internal war he was fighting making him weak. So weak that he was beginning to fantasize about the way you said his name and how beautiful your eyes were when you looked at him. Would it be so horrible? Would it be so inconceivable that someone like you would be interested in someone like him?

Maybe he was going crazy.

He couldn't remember the last time he ever felt like this. Did he ever feel like this before?

Guilt coursed through his veins at the mere thought. What a horrible fucking person he must be to think his late wife never made him feel wanted, desired, excited. She did, surely. It was just so long ago and it was tough, in the beginning. Money was tight and Mia struggled to keep a steady job during record high unemployment rates. It was stressful and hard but they still loved each other deeply.

Sure, maybe passion was put on the back burner for a while. But he always knew how she felt about him and vice versa. There was a comfort in that type of love. A peace.

But he found a sense of peace when he was with you, too. How was that possible?

He dragged himself out of his truck, carrying the leftovers under one arm while he fiddled with his keys, searching for the right one to unlock his front door. He could smell the fried chicken even though it was sealed up tight and he immediately thought about you moving around your kitchen, looking like an absolute natural. You didn't have any cookbooks out or timers on. Hell, you probably didn't even use measuring spoons. He could tell you meant it when you said you liked to cook. Even if it wasn't evident by the way you breezed around the room, the love you had for it certainly came through in the final product.

As he packed the food away in his refrigerator, the previous contents looking sad and questionable, he tried to remember the last time he had such a good meal that didn't require him to have to sit down at a restaurant.

His landline rang after he had gotten out of the shower. The entire time he was hard as a rock but he absolutely refused to touch himself. He knew if he did, his mind would immediately drift to you, and he was ashamed enough as it was that there was no use adding to it.

"Yeah?" he asked gruffly, knowing full well only a handful of people called his house phone over his cell.

"Hey brother, how was your date?"

Joel cringed and sat down on the edge of his bed. "It wasn't a date."

"Oh, right, sorry. Forgot. Pick up anythin' interesting to read, then?"

"Fuck!" Joel exclaimed, slapping his forehead with his palm. "I forgot the goddamn books!"

Tommy chuckled through the phone. "Alright. You tell me it ain't a date, now you're tellin' me you forgot the books. So what the hell was it?"

"We looked at the books, I had 'em all picked out, just... forgot," he grumbled.

"Sounds like you'll have to see her again, don't it?"

"Tommy, I ain't in the fuckin' mood," Joel warned, falling back onto his bed in a huff.

"The hell's got you all twisted 'round for?" Tommy demanded on the other end.

Joel chewed on the inside of his cheek, his eyes darting around his room while he quickly weighed the pros and cons of confiding in his brother before sighing and giving in.

"Alright. Do not tell Sarah what I'm 'bout to tell you."

"Cross my heart."

Joel gave him the bullet points of the evening, making sure to leave out his true feelings on the matter so he could hopefully get some unbiased advice.

"Joel, you ain't gonna like what I'm gonna say."

"Just say it," Joel groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and bracing for the verbal thrashing he deserved.

"I think you oughta go for it."

Joel's eyes snapped open in surprise. "What?"

"Go for it. She likes you, I'm pretty sure you like her or else you wouldn't be this torn up over one little kiss. I think it'll be good for you both."

"Tommy, she's thirty-one," he began, but he was immediately cut off.

"She's an adult, Joel. She's been through shit, you've been through shit. She sounds sweet and kind. Worst case scenario, you just provide a little comfort for each other and maybe help heal some old wounds."

Joel thought it over for a moment, listening to ice clinking in a glass on the other end. "And best case scenario?"

He could practically hear Tommy's smile before he even spoke.

"Best case scenario, you fall in love and live happily ever after."

You had told yourself you wouldn't let it bother you, that you wouldn't let yourself get nervous, but the following week you found yourself doing exactly that. More specifically, sitting in the parking lot of the familiar, run down little brick building you'd been going to for months, tapping your fingers anxiously against your leg as your eyes drifted between the books piled on your passenger seat and the front door of the building.

With a sigh, you resigned yourself and turned your car off. Checking your hair once more in the mirror, you opened the door to your SUV and slid out. Locking the doors with the push of a button and an expensive sounding chirp, you made your way to the entrance, nodding occasionally when you saw a familiar face but never spotting the face you yearned to see.

Guilt-addled, you sat through the hour long meeting, hardly listening to a word anybody said.

He didn't show.

You swallowed tightly and stared at your hands, at the large diamond on your left ring finger, at the pale pink polish on your nails that matched your toes. And you waited. For what, you weren't sure. Maybe a sign. A sign to remain in Texas and not move back home, like your mother and father were begging you to do.

Moments before the meeting wrapped up, a nimble, lean body plopped itself in the empty chair next to you.

"Shit, I got the time wrong, didn't I?"

You looked up to see a girl no older than twenty sitting next to you, with piercing green eyes and brown hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. She was wearing a worn T-shirt and converse sneakers and you thought you could see the beginnings of an arm tattoo hiding at the cuff of her sleeve.

"Yeah, it's about to end," you told her. She groaned and slumped down in her chair.

"Shit," she repeated with a sigh.

Ryan ended the meeting like he usually did; a reminder of cards in the back of the room and the offering of an ear to bend afterwards. The room collectively stood and stretched, a low murmur rippling throughout the cinderblock walls.

"I'm Ellie," she said abruptly, shoving out her hand to you unceremoniously. "Both my parents kicked it."

You blinked rapidly in shock, then slowly extended your own hand and offered her your name. "I lost my fiancé last year."

"Man, that stinks. Sorry," she said, rolling her shoulder and glancing around. "How'd he go?"

"Car accident," you told her, finding it strangely easy to say the words you struggled with for a year. "And I was in the car," you added, watching her face contort in pain.

"Fuck, dude," she whispered, shaking her head.

"What about you? How'd your parents pass?"

"Plane crash. Their bodies were ripped to shreds on impact, couldn't even find enough for their coffins. Had to fill them with pictures and clothes and shit so it felt like we had something to bury."

Your eyes widened and you felt your breath get caught in your throat. "Oh my god, Ellie, that's horrible!"

She cracked a smile and burst out laughing. "I'm messing with you. I just felt like I had to one up you or something. Lung cancer: they were both huge smokers, wasn't exactly a shock."

"Jesus!" you sputtered, then began to laugh behind your hand. Never once had anyone made you feel like death could be a joking matter but there was something different about Ellie. You knew deep down it had to be a coping mechanism, but damn if it wasn't better than crying for once.

You followed her to the back of the room and weaved your way through the stragglers to survey the snack table. Each of you grabbed a donut and some bottles of water before finding a quiet corner to eat.

"This is your first meeting, I take it?"

She nodded, mouth full of a strawberry donut. "My family told me I should go."

"Yeah? Mine too," you said, ripping off a piece of the pastry and popping it into your mouth.

"Does it help?" she asked.

You sighed and looked around. "Yeah, but it takes a while. I think it helps to know you're not alone."

She nodded and shoved the rest of the donut in her mouth. "What'd your fiancé do for work?"

You brightened up at that. "He was an author. The Crimson Stone, ever heard of it?"

Her jaw dropped and her eyes bugged out of her head. "Daniel Davis was your fiancé?!" You nodded and grinned. "Holy shit! I love his work! That series got me through some tough shit in high school. Man... what a world," she said, voice filled with disbelief.

"Well, if you like it that much, I have an unpublished manuscript of his for the next book in the series. It's just a first draft meant for his editor, but if you wanted a copy-"

"Yes!" she exclaimed happily. "Yes! Please! Oh my god, you fucking rock!"

You giggled and shrugged. "I'll bring it next week if you'll be here? Or if you want it sooner, you can stop by my house."

She nodded eagerly. "Can I, like... give you money or something for it?"

You instantly shook your head. "No, no! Daniel loved his stories and just wanted to share them with the world. The fact he made any money from it was just a bonus. He would have wanted you to have it."

"Wow," she breathed, tossing her plate in the trash and dusting her hands on the sides of her jeans. "You're pretty fucking cool."

"Thanks," you grinned, tossing your plate as well and nodding towards the door. "You heading out?"

"Yeah," she said, following you and swiping one of Ryan's cards from the table in the process. You stepped out into the parking lot, the air significantly cooler than before now that the sun was beginning to set. You took a step towards the parked cars, then stopped when you realized Ellie wasn't following. Turning around, you saw her unlock a padlock from the front tire of a black mountain bike, the sight filling you with alarm.

"You rode your bike here?"

She nodded and yanked it from the bike rack before snatching the helmet from the handlebars and tossing it casually on her head.

"Yeah, I don't live too far away, I like to bike whenever I can. It's better for the environment."

You couldn't explain the sudden urge to protect someone you just met. Maybe knowing she lost both her parents at such a young age made you offer her a ride, telling her she could fit the bike in the back of your SUV, but she just shook her head.

"Thanks, but I'm alright."

"But it's dark," you protested. Ellie chuckled and swung a leg over the seat.

"It's not that dark. I'm, like, a ten minute ride to my apartment. Promise I'll be okay."

You worried your lower lip and was once again ready to insist you take her home, your arm lifting to point in the direction of your car when you saw him. Even from across the parking lot, you recognized those broad shoulders and greying curls leaning against the hood of your car with his arms crossed, watching you both.

"See ya at the next one," Ellie said, and before you could get your bearings, she was off.

You turned once to watch her pedal through the parking lot in the direction of her home, then turned back around, wondering if he had been a mirage, but no. He still stood there, patiently waiting for you. And it wasn't until you were roughly ten feet away that you noticed the bag of your clean tupperware at his feet.

"Thought I scared you off," you joked, ignoring the tremor in your voice. He smiled and dropped his gaze to the pavement.

"Nah," he said softly, twisting his mouth to the side as he scuffed the tip of his boot into the loose asphalt. "Came to apologize. I was rude 'n you did so much for me, felt horrible all week."

"You don't need to apologize," you said, wrapping your arms around yourself. "I'm the one who should apologize. I obviously read things wrong -"

"No, you didn't."

Your eyes went wide and you froze, waiting for him to continue.

"You didn't," he repeated again before dragging his eyes back up. "I just... you... and I'm..." he huffed and scratched the back of his neck nervously. "You got me all twisted up," he admitted shyly with a pink tint to his cheeks.

You laughed, a pretty little sound he very much wanted to hear again, and took a tentative step closer.

"Twisted up? Is that some southern thing?"

He grinned and shrugged. "Suppose I coulda said you knocked me on my ass but I was tryin' to be a gentleman."

You coyly bit your lip, enjoying how bashful he was being.

"Well, you got me twisted up, too," you told him, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

He chuckled, shoving his hands in his pockets while he stared at you, still unwilling to believe someone as pretty and sweet as you would be interested in him.

He couldn't help it. He had to bring up the elephant in the room.

"You're so young, darlin'," he said as if you didn't already know. "And so beautiful. You don't want me. My life's half over."

You frowned, eyebrows furrowed as if that was the most offensive thing he could ever utter.

"You see me," you told him sternly. "Nobody really sees me but you see me. You remembered how I took my coffee after meeting me once. You appreciate the little things, like... genuinely appreciate them. And you listen to me, Joel. You let me cry, some girl you had just met, and you comforted me. Did you know no one else, not even my own family, bothers to do that? They just avoid the topic of Daniel all together now so they don't have to deal with me being a little fucking sad now and again."

Your eyes stung with unshed tears as you stood before him, begging him to see what you saw in him. And even then, he listened and he cared and his face softened with sadness when you told him the part about your family.

"You're doing it right now and you don't even see it," you laughed. One tear trickled down your cheek and you quickly brushed it away. "You're such a good man. How could I not be attracted to you?"

He scoffed but the corner of his mouth curled up into a half smile.

"Well..." he said, trailing off and fixing his gaze back on his shoes. What could he possibly not understand? But then it dawned on you - he had just told you he never dated again after his wife. Maybe he wasn't ready. Shit.

"I don't want you to feel uncomfortable," you told him softly. "If this isn't something you're ready for, we can stay friends. That is, if you want. No hard feelings. I even have the books for Sarah in the front seat."

You pointed and took a step towards the passenger door when he stopped you.

"I like you," he said, his beautiful brown eyes all soft and gentle as he looked at you. "But I'm rusty. Real rusty. Like... there ain't no savin' it kind of rusty."

You giggled and a big smile stretched across his face.

"Let's go slow," you suggested, reaching out for his hand. He met you halfway, fingers lacing together with yours, rough skin against soft. "Let's just take it at our own pace and not put any pressure on it," you added, smiling at the way your hands fit so nicely together. "Then we can just... see what happens."

He nodded slowly, his limbs growing heavy and relaxed from the sound of your sweet voice but heart pumping strong and fast behind his chest with excitement. His gaze flickered around the now nearly empty parking lot before his eyes found yours.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked, immediately feeling foolish for asking. Women don't want some nervous idiot asking if they could kiss them, what was he thinking? But then your shoulders sagged with relief and your smile stretched so far, it made your eyes squint as you closed the small gap between you.

"Yes, please."

He breathed a sigh of relief and shifted his weight, dropping your hand so he could gently cup your cheeks with both palms. His eyes raked over your face for a moment, memorizing every birthmark, scar and wrinkle before sliding his eyes closed and brushing his lips tenderly over your own.

You immediately responded, massaging his lips carefully, slowly, while your hands came to rest at his waist. You had to crane your neck at an unusual angle in order to accommodate his tall frame and you smiled to yourself, thinking I could get used to this.

He pulled back for just a moment, tilting his head to the other side before eagerly pressing his lips against yours again. The lip balm you used tasted sweet and soft and he knew right away he would be thinking about the flavor for the rest of the night. His exhale fanned over your cheek, causing a shiver to race down your spine, which only encouraged him further. He peppered feather light kisses against your lips for as long as the sun let him, until it grew dark and the crickets came out to sing. And only then did he pull back, each of you a little breathless and pink in the face but sporting huge grins as you gazed at one another in an entirely new light.

This was the start of something exciting.

The following morning, Joel woke up with the sun and a huge smile. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so energized, so happy, and so excited to start the day. He wandered around his kitchen, drinking coffee and tidying up, killing time before he had to get ready for work when a strange idea struck him: maybe he should go for a run.

He looked down at his soft belly. He patted it through his shirt and felt it jiggle, then he cringed. He really ought to take care of himself more, especially now that he's older. If he wasn't interested in a diet, the least he could do is take care of his heart with a little cardio.

What was the harm? He could keep it short, just twenty minutes. Enough to get his blood pumping. He knew for sure that Sarah would be proud.

Maybe you would, too.

He dug around in the back of his closet for some basketball shorts and put them on before he lost his nerve, then he stepped out onto his porch and looked around while he did some stretches. It was quiet, hardly anyone was up yet. At least he would have some privacy if he ended up doubled over after jogging for five minutes.

It turned out, running was a lot fucking harder than he thought. His lungs burned and his muscles ached and he was only halfway done, but he kept his eye on the prize. He told himself if he wanted to be spoiled on your incredible cooking, then he had to compensate somehow. Hell, maybe exercising would give him a little more energy. One of the guys from work was an avid runner and around Joel's age. He was always talking about the incredible benefits: the endorphins, the boost in self-esteem, the improvement in his sleep... his increased sex drive.

That wasn't why Joel was running, but it would be a nice little added perk. Not that he needed help getting hard, but he was a little concerned about potentially having sex again for the first time in a fucking decade. God, just thinking about the embarrassment he would feel if he couldn't last long enough to make you feel good made his feet move faster and his spine straighten.

When he rounded the corner, his house finally in sight, he felt a second wave kick in. His sneakers slapped loudly on the asphalt, the sound echoing in his ears, breath bursting in short puffs as he got closer and closer to his destination. He finally arrived, slowing to a stop to lean against his mailbox to catch his breath. He hurt but he felt good. Maybe he could make it part of his new routine. Surely, each day would become easier and easier the more his body strengthened. Joel took one last deep breath and turned to walk up his driveway, only to skid to a dead stop when he noticed Tommy's truck parked against the garage.

Shit. He completely forgot they were driving to a site together that morning. Joel glanced at his watch and walked up the little path leading to his front door, then twisted the knob to enter.

"Tommy?"

"Kitchen," he called. Joel heard mugs clinking and his refrigerator opening as he toed off his sneakers and, on shaky legs, walked into his kitchen.

Tommy did a double take when he saw Joel, nearly dropping his coffee on the tile floor.

"You were out runnin'? Since when?"

"Since today," Joel said, sitting down with a deep groan. "I still got time to shower, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm early," Tommy replied before pulling out a chair for himself. "What the hell's gotten into you?"

"Can't just take care of myself a bit?" Joel countered, snatching a napkin and wiping the sweat from the sides of his face.

Tommy took a sip of coffee before answering. "Well, sure, I mean... that's great. Sarah's gonna love to hear 'bout this. Just a little strange that-"

His brother stopped, the gears in his head turning as he slowly figured it out.

"It's the girl, right?"

He had a shit eating grin on his face when Joel looked up from the table and shrugged.

"Don't know what you're talkin' 'bout."

"The girl! The girl with the books and chicken and dead husband."

"Fiancé," Joel corrected, then immediately regretted it when Tommy snapped his fingers as if he were caught red-handed.

"It is her! You wanna look good for your girlfriend, don't you?"

Joel cringed at the word girlfriend, feeling way too old to use that term, but he remained silent and focused on tearing up his napkin. Tommy watched him for a moment longer, expecting Joel to correct him again, and when he didn't, Tommy sat back in his chair, waiting.

"She didn't ask me to or nothin'," Joel finally mumbled. "Just wanna take care of myself."

Tommy's eyebrows raised in surprise when Joel didn't deny his girlfriend comment.

"This mean you finally took some advice I gave you? You two talk things out?"

He shrugged, still looking down at the table, but Tommy saw the corner of Joel's mouth twitch. He grinned and leaned forward excitedly.

"That's great, brother. It's 'bout time you got back out there."

"Do not tell Sarah," Joel warned once again. Tommy held up his hands and shook his head.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"'Cause I gotta tell her. It's gotta come from me, and I wanna do it my own way."

"I get it."

Joel sighed and absentmindedly scratched his beard.

"She ain't gonna like it," he finally said, filling the silence in the room. Tommy frowned.

"Why the hell not?"

"'Cause," Joel said, "the age thing. She's-"

"Oh, come on," Tommy interrupted with a dismissive wave of his hand, but Joel shook his head.

"Nah, Tommy, I mean it. It'll be hard enough for her to hear I'm datin' anyone at all, let alone someone closer in age to her than me."

"I think you're wrong," he said, standing up to rinse out his mug in the sink.

"Yeah, well, you don't know her like I know her," Joel said with a groan when he stood up from the table. "She'll be home to visit in a month. If things are still goin' good, I'll tell her then."

Tommy was about to say something else when Joel walked stiffly toward the stairs, announcing he was going to take a quick shower, so he decided to drop it. But when he heard the water turn on above his head, he quickly pulled out his phone and dialed Maria's number, too excited and happy for his brother to keep the news to himself.

"How're your classes? You ain't skippin' any, are you?"

Sarah giggled on the other end. "No, Dad. You know I wouldn't waste my scholarship like that."

"Good girl," he praised, smiling into the phone that was tucked between his shoulder and ear while he chopped up peppers and onions. Sarah could hear the thunk of his knife hitting the wooden cutting board and she gasped.

"Oh my god, are you cooking?" she squealed excitedly. Joel chuckled then frowned when he looked at his work and realized all the strips of green pepper were different sizes.

"Yeah, makin', uh, stir fry."

"Wow!" Sarah said excitedly. "Vegetables and everything! I'm so proud of you."

Joel laughed and rinsed his knife in the sink. "Just you wait til I tell you what else I've been doin'."

"Hmm," she replied, pretending to think. Joel could practically see her tap her chin thoughtfully and roll her eyes to the ceiling. "Going to group?"

"Well, yeah, I have," he admitted, thinking back on earlier in the week when you had gone to counseling together. "Met someone," he said before he could stop himself, voice catching in his throat, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her about you just yet. He needed to do it in person. Just two more weeks and she would come home for the weekend. "Girl 'bout your age, named Ellie. Met through someone else, she's, uh, little rough 'round the edges. Both her parents passed so I imagine that takes its toll. But she's real funny. Think you'd get along."

"That's great, Dad. I'm glad you made a friend," Sarah replied, her sincerity coming through the phone.

"That's not what I was gonna tell you, though," Joel said, drizzling too much olive oil in a pan. He made a face and grabbed a wad of paper towels to soak some of it up. "Been runnin' in the mornin' 'fore work."

"Holy shit!" Sarah practically shouted.

"Language," he warned.

"I'm sorry, Dad, but I think you jogging warrants a holy shit!"

Joel laughed heartily at that. She wasn't wrong.

"Yeah, well, figured I oughta start takin' care of myself a bit."

He could hear her smile when she said, "Dad, you have no idea how happy this makes me. I've been so worried about you being lonely after I left but it sounds like you're actually doing better than when I lived at home!"

"Nah, I'll never do as good as when I got you, baby girl," Joel corrected her, then did a double take when he noticed the time on his microwave. "Shit. I, uh, I gotta go, honey. Can I call you tomorrow?"

Sarah paused, wanting to ask what he could possibly have to do if all he said he was doing was making dinner. Then a slow smile stretched across her face.

"Are you... dating someone?"

"W-what?" Joel stammered, face as white as a ghost. How the hell-

"Is it Ms. Palmer from up the street? I know she's always had a crush on you."

"N-no, it ain't, there's no-"

His doorbell rang and Sarah grinned.

"I'll let you get to your date," she teased.

"Sarah, it-"

"Bye, Dad! Talk to you tomorrow!"

The line went dead before Joel could get another word in edgewise. Well, at least it wouldn't be a huge surprise when he eventually told her.

He didn't have time to worry much. He tossed his phone on the counter and threw a towel over his shoulder so he could wipe his hands as he walked to the door, swinging it open with a huge grin because there you were, waiting for him and looking so goddamn beautiful in a light pink dress.

"Hi," you said, the pitch in your voice giving away your excitement to see him. His mind still couldn't grapple with the idea of someone like you looking at him the way you were, but every time he saw you, it became a little more believable.

"Hey," he replied, opening the door wider for you to squeeze past him. You took one step inside and gave him a quick peck on the lips before sliding off your shoes and padding into the kitchen. It was only after he closed the door did he register you were holding a bag.

"Did you cook for me?" you exclaimed, slowly setting your bag on the counter and staring in awe at the vegetables sautéing on the stove.

Joel grinned and gave you a half hearted shrug. "Wanted to return the favor for all the great food you cook for me."

You turned to look at him, eyes wide and filled with emotion. "This is so sweet, Joel, but you know I don't mind cooking."

"I know, but you deserve a night off," he said, brushing past you to stir the vegetables. You leaned back against the counter, one ankle crossed over the other with your lower lip pulled between your teeth as you watched him work. He was clearly out of his element, cursing under his breath when the oil popped and burnt his forearm while trying to keep an eye on both the steak and the vegetables.

It was adorable.

"Let me help," you offered, washing your hands before grabbing a clean mixing spoon. He almost declined your offer until he realized he was in over his head and didn't have a backup plan if the food burned, so he let you jump in.

First thing you did was turn down the heat on both burners, making the loud crackling of oil quiet right down. It eventually got to the point where Joel was just following your instructions - start boiling water for the rice, make sure you measure the water. The lid needs to stay on, honey. Do you have any seasonings? How about mustard and soy sauce? And honey? No, I mean actual honey.

You giggled as you watched him hurry around his kitchen, opening and closing cabinets and waiting for your next request. Finally, you set your spoon down and cupped his cheek, giving him the sweetest smile followed by the sweetest kiss and the request to set the table and relax.

"What's in the bag?" Joel asked when you brought two steaming plates of stir fry over to the table. You drizzled a homemade sauce over each plate before tucking the dress of your skirt under your legs and sitting down next to him.

"I thought I was cooking," you said, picking up your fork. "I brought some supplies, but this was lovely. I'll just put it away for next time."

Oh, Joel liked that. He really, really liked the idea of you bringing things to his house, getting familiar with your surroundings and feeling comfortable there with him. It had only been two weeks but things were going so well. You made him unbearably happy and he tried his best to do the same for you because he was quickly realizing he would be crushed if he lost you. How the hell did that happen so fast?

You took your first bite of steak and made a pleased sound, raising your eyebrows at him with a little smile.

"You did most of the work," he said before you could speak.

"Not true. I just stirred a few things and sprinkled a couple other things. You picked out the steak. You marinated it, cubed it up and cooked most of it. You did great, I love it," you told him earnestly before leaning over to give him another kiss.

God, you were the sweetest thing. He couldn't get enough.

"How's the running going?" you asked before lifting another forkful of food.

"Good," Joel replied, wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "Think my body's gettin' used to it now. Don't hurt as much anymore."

"That's great! Maybe we can go for a walk after dinner. I'd offer to run with you one of these mornings but there's no way I can get up that early," you said with a giggle.

He nodded and dropped his gaze to his plate. You had agreed to take things slow and it was working out beautifully. But that also meant your dates never ended with either of you staying the night, which was perfectly fine with Joel. He was still self-conscious about his age and physique, and even though he knew you wouldn't ever be that shallow, it still weighed heavily in the back of his mind. He couldn't help it.

"Sounds nice. Maybe squeeze in a movie if there's time."

"It's my turn to pick," you teased, poking him in the arm with your finger.

"Y'know you can pick all of 'em. I don't care what we watch, so long as I'm watchin' it with you," he said. It took him about thirty seconds to realize you had stopped eating and were giving him this look he couldn't pinpoint. His eyes bounced between yours, scanning your face and watching your expression wilt right in front of him. Your eyebrows drew together and tears welled up in your eyes. Panic shot through him, wondering what on earth he said to make you cry as he dropped his fork with a loud clatter to grab your hands.

"What'd I say?" he whispered, feeling your fingers squeeze his before ripping one hand away to swipe at a stray tear.

"Nothing. It's just... I don't remember the last time I've heard anyone... I miss having someone..." you sniffled and wiped away another tear while Joel patiently waited for you to continue. You took a shaky breath and gave him a little smile when you said, "You make me really happy, Joel."

He grinned and gently cupped your cheek, cleaning up your tears with his thumb.

"You make me really happy, too, sweetheart."

His deep brown eyes reflected little specks of gold under the soft lighting from his kitchen as you gazed at one another. When you lost Daniel, you never thought you'd ever be able to move on, and you were okay with that. He gave you some of the most wonderful years of your life and you were grateful for every second, knowing full well there were others out there in the world who may never feel how he made you felt.

And then you met Joel and ever since, he had you wondering how lightning could possibly strike twice.

"C'mon, pretty girl. Eat up so we can take a walk 'fore the sun sets," he said. His rough fingers traced down your jaw, then gave your chin a little pinch before letting you go to pick up his fork. The rest of the dinner was relatively silent, except for the music playing quietly somewhere on his kitchen counter. You reveled in the simplicity of it. Grateful for the peace and enjoying his company.

After you cleaned the dishes together, you slipped your shoes back on and allowed Joel to take your hand so he could lead you down his front steps towards the sidewalk.

"We can just go 'round the block 'fore it gets too cold," he offered, giving your hand a little squeeze when you playfully knocked your hip into him. "So, how was your day? What'd you do?" Joel asked. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, wondering if it was too soon to share with him the biggest stressor in your life at the moment. Well, it had been longer than a moment. But when he looked at you with the kindest smile and the softest eyes, you knew nothing would scare him away.

"Well," you began, and Joel could immediately tell by your tone that something was bothering you. His eyebrows pinched together and his smile faded. "I had a meeting today... with my lawyer."

"Lawyer?" Joel repeated, and you nodded.

"I've been stuck in this horrible legal battle with Daniel's family for months," you said, keeping your eyes fixed straight ahead. "His family wants a piece of his estate and he left it all to me. They're saying because we weren't legally married yet, that I'm not owed one hundred percent, but he had a will. He was very clear, and -" you cut yourself off and glanced up at him sheepishly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, darlin'," Joel said, "You can tell me or don't tell me, whatever you want. But if you wanna talk 'bout it, I'm ready to listen."

You gave him a grateful smile and sighed.

"It's such a nightmare. I just want to move on but it feels like this never ending back and forth with them is reopening the wound every single time, you know?"

You went on to tell him Daniel ended up leaving you... a lot of money. So much that you didn't have to work, although you had always planned on finding a job just to keep busy and make friends in a city where you knew nobody, you had just never gotten around to it.

"Well, y'know me now," Joel offered with a lopsided grin. You smiled and wrapped both your arms around one of his as he led you back up his driveway. The sky had turned a brilliant orange and pink color as the sun began to dip below the trees. In the distance, you could hear mothers calling out the door for their children to come home from playing with their friends in the neighboring woods that were beginning to grow dark.

"It's so peaceful here," you told him, slinking down into the bench he had on his front porch. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tugging you into his side and smiled at a pair of siblings racing down the street on their bikes to get home before sundown.

"It is. Was a good spot for Sarah to grow up."

You tilted your chin up, admiring the way the setting sun reflected on his skin, all bronzed from working outdoors day after day.

"How's she doing? How's school?"

"Good. Was talkin' to her right before you came." Joel paused and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "She was excited I was cookin' vegetables and workin' out a bit. Said she worries 'bout me."

"She sounds so sweet. You did a good job raising her," you told him sincerely. It was moments like that one on his porch that you thought you missed more than anything. There was something so deeply comforting about having someone to talk about your day with, someone to listen to all the mundane details as well as all your fears and worries. Before Joel, you would have probably been puttering around your kitchen looking for something to do, or having yet another agonizing conversation with your mother over the phone.

"No pressure, but, uh..." Joel began with an awkward clearing of his throat. A little smile tugged at your lips as you watched him nervously pick at something on his jeans. "Sarah comes home in two weeks. Was gonna take that time and tell her 'bout you. Maybe we can all go to dinner or somethin'?" he offered, words rushing together at the end of his sentence. "If it's too fast or you ain't ready or -"

"I would love to," you interrupted. He looked up from his lap, eyes all bright with a grin to match.

"Yeah?"

You nodded, then giggled when he wrapped his hand around the back of your neck to pull you in for a deep kiss. His tongue slipped past your lips and for one heated moment, you forgot you were on his front porch for his entire neighborhood to see. You pulled away with a gasp when he began to get carried away and about to suggest going inside when a woman's voice called over from the sidewalk.

"Evenin', Joel."

Joel's grin melted when he turned to see Ms. Palmer walking her little French bulldog past the house. The look of distaste on her face told him she witnessed a little more than what was deemed appropriate and he felt his cheeks grow hot.

"Evenin'," he said sheepishly, raising a hand up in greeting. Her eyes flickered back and forth between him and you before turning her nose up in the air and urging her dog to keep walking.

"Maybe we should go inside," you said, voice muffled behind your palm as you tried to stifle your laughter. Joel chuckled and nodded.

"Good idea."

"It's gotta be around here somewhere," you muttered under your breath. You eased your foot off the gas and squinted through your windshield, silently repeating the numbers on the buildings until you finally found what you were looking for. Turning down the unpaved gravel road, you gripped the steering wheel tight, your SUV handling each deep bump with surprising ease until you turned the corner and spotted the partially finished building behind a chain link fence.

You saw a bunch of trucks parked off to the side so you found a spot near them and shifted into park. Before getting out of the car, you looked over your shoulder, hoping to see Joel's familiar face in the crowd of workers but you were too far away.

Oh, well. His truck was there, so he must be around somewhere.

Sliding out of your seat, you went to open your trunk and picked up to massive insulated tote bags filled with homemade sandwiches, pasta salads and cookies, draping one over each shoulder before tapping your foot under the tailgate to close the hatch.

You were grateful you chose a pair of jeans instead of the dress you originally wanted to wear as you walked up to the fence, dust and dirt kicking up as you walked. When a dark, curly haired man spotted you from over the fence, he walked over to unlock the gate. He took off his hard hat and wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm before he shot you a cheesy smile.

"Hey there, little lady. You lookin' for someone?"

You gave him a polite smile despite the way his eyes raked up and down your body.

"Actually, yes," you replied, shifting the weight of one of the bags. "Is Joel around?"

The man's eyes darted up to meet yours and you watched his expression morph into one of excitement.

"Joel? Yeah, he's around. And, uh, who can I say is comin' by to make his whole damn day?"

You told him your name and he clapped his gloved hands together in triumph.

"I knew it! I fuckin' - sorry," he said, clearing his throat before opening up the fence. "C'mon in, but here, make sure you wear this," he said, plopping his smelly hard hat on top of your head. "He'll kill me if he spots you without one."

"Oh, well, thanks..." you replied. "I brought him lunch as a surprise. Well, actually, I brought everyone lunch-"

"You brought lunch?" a bigger man with a mustache popped up from behind a construction vehicle. You swiveled around and waved.

"Yeah. I have sandwiches and cookies a-"

"Here, lemme help you with all that," the first man said before introducing himself as Tommy. Then it clicked.

"You're Joel's brother!" you exclaimed, rolling your now sore shoulder as you followed him through the site towards the trailers parked in the back.

"One and only!" he said cheerily. "I'm just gonna put this in the air conditioning, then we can go find Joel."

You waited at the bottom of the stairs as Tommy disappeared into the trailer, your hands clasped behind your back and bouncing on the balls of your feet. A few men walked past and gave you a strange look, no doubt wondering who you were, but you just smiled and politely waved.

It was then that you heard Joel's voice call out your name from somewhere behind you. With a huge grin, you twisted around and shielded your eyes to look up at the framed second story, spotting him almost immediately.

The smile slipped from your face and your mouth went dry when you saw him, clothes covered in dirt, skin coated in a mix of sweat and dust. His jeans were well worn and hung lower on his hips, and over the waistband was a leather tool belt that had you thinking very inappropriate thoughts.

"Hey!" he said as he jogged down the steps. You blinked rapidly, trying to snap yourself out of your stupor, but he just looked too damn good.

"H-hi," you stammered, feeling even more overwhelmed now that he was closer. He leaned down to kiss your cheek and your eyes fluttered closed when you smelled him: a heavenly combination of sawdust, sweat, coffee and metal.

"What're you doin' here?"

He had his hands propped on his hips, gazing down at you with a huge smile, a stupidly cute hard hat perched on the top of his head that matched your own while he waited for your response.

Luckily, the door to the trailer opened and Tommy did all the talking for you, giving yourself an extra minute to get it together.

"She brought lunch for everyone. It's inside. You got a keeper here, brother, don't mess this up for us," Tommy joked with a loud clap to Joel's shoulder. A plume of dust swirled in the air, hiding the little pink tinting Joel's cheeks before turning back to you.

"You didn't need to do all that, darlin'."

"I- I wanted to," you said, forcing yourself to look away. "Thought I would surprise you and, well, you know me. Once I start cooking..."

Joel chuckled and went to wrap an arm around your shoulders before realizing how dirty he was.

"Ah, shit," he said, grimacing when you locked eyes again. "I'm filthy. Sorry."

"That's okay," you told him eagerly. Then you glanced around to make sure you couldn't be overheard when you leaned in and whispered, "I kinda like it."

Joel raised his eyebrows and smirked. "Oh, yeah?"

"Mhmm," you hummed with your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. His cheeks grew brighter pink as he shook his head and pointed awkwardly to the trailer behind you.

"Let's grab somethin' before these animals get in there. We can eat in my office."

"Office?" you repeated, following him towards the trailer.

"Oh, yeah. I got an office, baby. Shitty trailer smaller than this one, but it's all mine."

After you spread out the sandwiches and salads for Joel's crew, half of which was gone before you blinked, you grabbed your food and let him lead you to a trailer closer to the fence. He was right, it was small, but it served its purpose. Blueprints hung on the wall behind his desk. Permits, work orders, receipts and post its with phone numbers scribbled on them littered the other walls, along with an old clock with a crack in the glass right down the middle.

"I like what you've done with the place," you teased while he scooped up papers from his desk to clear a spot for you.

He laughed softly and sat down in the ancient, squeaky chair with a grunt.

"Hard to keep it clean."

"I like it. It's, like... it's chaotic but there's a method to the madness. Very impressed," you said, eyes trailing over some of the papers. "This is like a completely different language. I can't believe you do this for a living, Joel. You can read these plans and make something come to life with your bare hands."

Joel blushed again and waved you off before unwrapping his sandwich. When he picked it up, he frowned and looked at you. "Chicken cutlets?"

You nodded and he looked like he died and went to heaven when he took a bite. "Is it too much? Does it look like I'm trying too hard? Your crew probably thinks I'm nuts."

"No, darlin', this is incredible," he said around a mouthful of food. "You put lemon or somethin' in this?"

"Yep," you replied with a grin before taking a bite of your own sandwich. Your eyes kept roaming around the packed trailer in silent awe. "It's no wonder you're so exhausted after work. And you're still managing to run in the mornings."

"Lost almost ten pounds but if you keep comin' by with food like this, I'll put it right back on if I ain't careful," he said with a wink. "I don't want Sarah thinkin' I'm lyin' 'bout runnin' when she sees me next weekend."

"You don't need to lose weight, anyway," you told him with a dismissive wave.

Joel opened his mouth to argue that you hadn't actually seen him yet without clothes on so your frame of reference was skewed, but he caught himself just in time, saving himself the embarrassment. Instead, he swallowed his food and cleared his throat.

"Do anythin' interesting today? 'Sides make all this incredible food?" he asked, noting the way your expression instantly fell.

"My mom called this morning," you said, tone shifting from playful to a little cold. "She's begging me to move back to Portland again. Says there's no use in me living out here now that Daniel's gone."

Joel straightened up nervously in his chair.

"Well, that just ain't true." You have me, he wanted to add.

"I know, and I told her how much I like it in Texas, but she just doesn't understand. I even told her I applied for a few jobs hoping it would get her off my back."

"Yeah? What kinda jobs?" he asked, perking back up and ignoring the feeling of dread that filled his chest at the prospect of you moving away.

"My degree's in marketing, so a few jobs in that field," you said, picking off some extra cheese from your sandwich as you spoke. "I did some consulting work after graduation with a handful of businesses but it looks better on a résumé to have worked at one place for a good chunk of time. So, needless to say I haven't gotten any calls."

Joel frowned and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. "Keep tryin'. Somethin' will shake loose. I'll keep an ear to the ground, too. I work with all sorts of different businesses."

"Thanks," you said with a smile. "Later today, I'm gonna look at fully remote jobs. That way I'm not limited to just Austin."

A few men filed past Joel's trailer, their voices and laughter echoing throughout the partially finished building.

"You probably need to get back to work, don't you?" you asked, peering out the small window by the door.

"Yeah, unfortunately gotta take advantage of the good weather while we got it," Joel said, standing and dusting his palms on his jeans. "I'll help you clean up first. They probably left a goddamn mess in there."

"No, please," you said as you stood to follow him towards the door. "You're busy. I can handle it, I promise."

"You sure?"

"Of course! So long as I still get to come over tonight," you said with a flirtatious wink.

Joel laughed as he walked you down the three steps of the trailer. "It's the only thing gettin' me through the day."

Before you headed back towards the trailer where Tommy had set up your food, you turned to loop your arms loosely around Joel's neck. Standing on your toes, you pressed your lips against his. It was meant to be a quick, chaste kiss, but when his big hands found your waist and you breathed him in up close, your jaw automatically fell open. Joel must have forgotten where you were, as well, because he didn't hesitate to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue slowly alongside yours, firmly pushing your mouths together and pulling a moan from your throat.

When a pair of younger men on the crew walked by and whistled sharply at your display, you finally broke apart, embarrassment flooding both your faces.

"Sorry," he chuckled, releasing your hips and nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

"I started it," you grinned, ignoring the handful of men over Joel's shoulder talking to Tommy about what they just witnessed. You took a few steps backwards and playfully bit your lip. "Maybe we can pick up where we left off tonight?" you offered, unable to keep the tremor from your voice. Joel's face went slack when he realized what you meant, swallowing tightly before giving you a nod.

"Uh, y-yeah. Lookin' forward to it. I-I mean, lookin' forward to seein' you later," he stammered, making you giggle. Before you turned around, you pointed to your hat.

"I'll leave it in the trailer."

He just nodded numbly and you swiveled around to collect your things, excitement and anticipation bubbling inside, the likes of which you hadn't felt in over a year.

Normally after a long week at work, Friday nights were spent having a couple beers and falling asleep early in front of whatever hockey game happened to be on. But that Friday night, Joel was energized, veins thrumming with excitement as he carefully situated a couple old, mismatched candles on his coffee table before fluffing the pillows and folding the blanket over the back of the couch.

He ran his hand through his hair nervously and looked around the room, turning certain lights on and off until he found the perfect combination for a warm glow to set the right mood. Then he went to the kitchen, opening up your favorite bottle of wine and setting it next to two glasses. It took him three attempts at microwaving popcorn before he got a bag that didn't end up burnt, which he poured into a bowl and set on the coffee table. Glancing at his watch, he lit the candles, scrunching his nose at the conflicting scents but deciding it ultimately didn't smell too bad and left them.

After checking his reflection maybe ten times in the hall mirror, he began to pace around his house, idly straightening up things or inspecting a ledge for dust... anything to try to get his mind off what he was very certain was the night.

Fuck, he was so nervous. Before Sarah's mom, he had only had sex with one other woman. He wasn't exactly brimming with experience and not only that, given it's been over ten years since he'd had sex, he'd be lucky to last three minutes. The last thing on earth he wanted to do was disappoint you or remind you of his advanced age.

Joel cursed under his breath when he heard the light knock at his front door. On his way to let you in, he silently chastised himself for feeling a flicker of guilt. His wife would have wanted him to move on, to be happy. There was no reason to feel guilty in finding comfort and happiness with someone new.

Yet, the guilt still sat there, tucked under his ribs right next to his heart.

He pushed it out of his mind when he swung the door open to find you waiting patiently on the other side. You were wearing the same jeans and shirt from earlier, but it looked like you might have done something a little different to your hair.

"Hey," he smiled breathlessly. He leaned down to give you a quick peck on the lips, inhaling your shampoo and perfume. When he pulled back, he rubbed his lips together at the sudden softness there and you grinned sheepishly up at him, swiping your thumb gently over his lips.

"Sorry. Got some lipstick on you."

His cheeks warmed under your touch and at the realization that you had put makeup on before coming over. Had you put in extra effort that night, same as him? Or was it all in his head?

"Come on in. Got the movie ready to go, plus-"

You had breezed past him and already kicked off your sneakers, interrupting him with a gasp when you saw his living room.

"Oh, Joel, you did all this for me?" you asked with your palms pressed against your heart. You looked so touched and it made his ego inflate a little. He did good.

"Uh, yep," he said, pushing the door closed and following you into the room. You surveyed the boxes of theater candy he laid out next to the popcorn, your finger tracing over them slowly as if you were mentally ranking them before noticing the wine still sitting open on his kitchen counter. You swiveled around, hands clasped behind your back and, with a flirty smile, you said, "You got my favorite."

"'Course I did," Joel replied, taking two long strides to meet you in the middle of the room. Your hands found each other immediately, his around your waist and yours behind his neck.

"And you got candles," you murmured, gazing up at him with big doe eyes. He nodded, pulse steadily humming under his skin. "How romantic."

"Little outta practice, but I tried," he shrugged.

"I love it," you whispered right before your lips brushed against his. When he kissed you, it felt like he was falling, but he wasn't scared of the drop. No, in fact, he was excited to see what was waiting for him on the other side. The way your mouth slotted perfectly with his, the soft noise you made when his tongue dipped past your lips, your nails digging into his hair a little harder when he pressed you against his chest. It was everything and not enough, all at once.

You were the first to pull away with a little breathy laugh, excitement glimmering in your eyes.

"Why don't we at least pretend to watch some of the movie?" you teased, taking a step back, just out of reach.

Joel's eyes darkened, like a predator watching his prize slip away.

"Sit. I'll get you some wine before we start the movie."

You did as you were told, plucking a piece of popcorn from the bowl and tossing it into your mouth while he poured two glasses of wine as quickly as he could. When he was out of sight, he took a few deep breaths to steady his nerves, then flicked the kitchen light off before joining you on the couch.

"Thank you," you said, taking your glass and clinking it lightly against his.

"Welcome," he answered, taking a sip while reaching for the remote. Wine wasn't his favorite drink, but for you, he would drink bath water if that's what you wanted.

He draped an arm over the back of his couch and leaned back, spreading his knees and getting comfortable while the opening credits played. You took a few sips from your glass, the candlelight catching the refractions every time you moved. By the time your glass was almost empty on the coffee table and the first act of the movie was over, you had curled into his side, your leg slung across his lap and your head resting comfortably against his shoulder. At some point, he abandoned his wine on the end table to grip your calf on his lap, his thick fingers unconsciously kneading the muscle as he watched the movie.

You made a soft noise in the back of your throat, immediately pulling his interest, the sound doing shameful things below his waist already.

"Feels good," you whispered, eyes fluttering for a moment before nuzzling further into his chest. It took him a second to realize you were referring to the absentminded massage he was giving your leg.

"Yeah?" he responded, voice deep and gravelly when he tipped his chin to brush his lips against the top of your head. "You tense, baby?"

You hummed and nodded, tilting your face up, mouths barely touching as the movie continued to play in the background. Joel's fingers around your leg tightened as the air around you thickened. He was definitely not reading things wrong. Your lips were parted to accommodate your sudden need for more air, your chest was rising and falling faster than just a moment ago and judging by the needy look in your eye, you were practically screaming for him to touch you.

So, despite his nerves, he did.

He wasn't quite sure how it happened, but within a few short minutes he had you pinned underneath him on his couch, the leg he was once massaging now wrapped around his hips. Your mouths had crashed together, sharing whimpers and gasps each time one of your hands explored a new area. The way you devoured one another, tongues twisting and fighting and denim clad hips shifting and rolling, it was impossible to tell who was more desperate for affection and comfort.

He supposed it didn't really matter, anyway. As different as you might seem to others on the surface, inside you both were the same. You both wanted to feel loved and wanted again. You both sought out safety and comfort you so desperately craved and not only that, you each eagerly wanted to give it to the other in return, because you knew how painful it felt to be so lonely.

It could have been the blood pounding loudly in his ears that kept him from hearing the front door unlock, or maybe he was too fixated on the pretty sounds you made when his hand boldly traveled underneath your shirt for the first time that blocked out the footsteps in the entryway, but the hurt and shocked tone in her voice when she spoke cut right through everything and had him bolting upright in a panic when he heard Sarah say, "Dad?"

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[steddieas-shegoes]

i’ll drown it out

for @steddiesongfics using the song ‘ghost of you’ by 5 seconds of summer

rated m | 2295 words | cw: temporary character death, injury, angst | tags: established relationship, secret relationship, wayne munson is a gift, happy ending, grief and mourning, alternate ending to season 4

🔘🔘🔘🔘🔘🔘🔘🔘🔘🔘🔘

steve wakes up every day to eddie’s face.

it’s the only picture of eddie that wayne doesn’t have in his apartment two hours away.

he doesn’t even think anyone knows it’s framed on his bedside table next to one of eddie’s rings and his guitar pick necklace.

all that’s left of eddie munson is whatever memories these items hold.

steve knows it’s dumb to hold onto things that belong to the people who cared most for eddie when he was alive. if dustin knew he had his necklace, he’d lose his shit.

but wayne knew he needed it, knew way more about their situation than he ever let on before eddie was- well, before he was gone.

steve blinks his eyes, adjusting to the sunlight sneaking through the curtains. he has the day off, but wayne’s coming by for lunch, so he should get up and shower.

he puts the ring on his finger, the necklace around his neck, and heads to the bathroom.

he goes through the motions, same as any other day.

he gets off in the shower, thinks about eddie’s hand around his neck while he fucks him from behind. doesn’t cry until he’s washed all the evidence of his own thoughts away.

he brushes his teeth and styles his hair, though he doesn’t put as much product in it anymore. robin says it’s causing hair loss. he doesn’t have the heart to tell her it’s probably the mourning of the love of his life.

he hasn’t told her about what eddie was to him at all.

he doesn’t think he can yet. or ever.

he goes downstairs and tidies up as much as he can. it’s not that messy, really. a dish in the sink from last night, his laundry basket full of clean clothes sitting on the couch ready to fold and put away, an empty beer can on the counter that never made it to the recycling bin.

he turns on the stereo to have some noise, to drown out the thought of eddie trying to make a trick shot off the trash can and making it. saying something like “bet i could’ve made the team with moves like that, huh, baby?”

he bites his lip and takes a shaky breath.

when wayne is here, it’s easier. they catch up on things. steve hears about wayne’s job at the mechanic shop and the woman he’s been seeing. steve tells him about the kids and robin, the new movies coming out that look decent.

they talk about eddie. that part is harder, but it’s not bad. steve gets to be open and honest with wayne in ways he can’t be with anyone else and wayne gets to talk about the only family he cared about. it’s nice.

but when wayne leaves, everything feels worse for a bit. he’d never tell wayne that, but it’s true.

for days after, he’s left in a cycle of anger, depression, grief, and jealousy. he ignores everyone and everything as much as he can. he wears eddie’s vest to sleep, to work, around the house. he cries as much as he doesn’t.

robin’s caught him once, when he was crying on the kitchen floor. the dinner he was making was burning. he brushed it off, said he just felt overwhelmed with his parents leaving him the house and having to volunteer. said he was so tired and just needed a break.

she believed him and worked his shift the next day, which gave him the chance to cry in bed and then get over himself.

he doesn’t realize how long he’s been sitting on the couch staring into space until wayne’s ringing the doorbell. steve jumps up and shuts off the music, ignoring the pang in his chest at realizing the tapes had changed to a Metallica one at some point.

everything is great. he’s smiling and laughing at wayne explaining the suburban mom dragging her two kids into the shop to explain what they did to her gas tank and making them help fix it. he’s nodding along as wayne talks about bringing faye to a nice restaurant in Indy for their anniversary next month.

and then things derail.

“sometimes i wish you could meet someone like faye. makes you forget about all the bad parts of life.”

steve knows he doesn’t mean he forgets eddie, but that’s what steve’s fragile heart hears anyway.

“i wouldn’t want someone to make me forget. i don’t want anyone except eddie.”

wayne looks at him like his heart’s breaking for him, but he doesn’t say anything.

at least not until steve starts cleaning up their lunch dishes.

his hand wraps around steve’s wrist as he speaks.

“eddie wouldn’t want ya to be lonely, steve. you can’t be happy with a ghost.”

and that’s just it.

he’s not trying to be happy with a ghost. he knows it’s impossible.

he’s just trying to survive with what he has left.

it’s a difference he knows he can’t explain, especially not to wayne.

so he smiles, nods, and continues with his cleaning while wayne thankfully changes the subject.

one year without eddie down. a lifetime to go.

****

year two is harder, despite everyone saying it gets easier over time.

it gets harder because he can’t explain why he still changes the station when ozzy plays on the radio. it’s harder because the nightmares get worse. it’s hard because waking up to a picture of eddie is cold, and no amount of sweaters and blankets can help him feel warm.

robin figures it out in march of that year.

steve doesn’t notice the date at first, not until dustin calls and asks if he wants to go visit eddie’s grave. he turns it down, says he has to work. it’s the truth, but he knows robin would have covered for him if he asked.

when he shows up to work, dark circles under his eyes, hair limp, robin tugs him to the floor behind the counter.

she pulls the chain of his necklace out of steve’s shirt.

tears spring up in her eyes.

they sit wordlessly for what feels like hours, but could’ve only been a few minutes. the door beeps when someone comes in and robin stands on shaky legs to assist. it gives steve an extra few minutes to get himself together.

she comes over after work and steve tells her everything. he doesn’t even cry until the end.

but he doesn’t stop crying for hours. and it’s really hours this time.

robin holds him, and he cries.

****

years three and four flew by.

especially when the kids graduated.

they aren’t kids anymore and all of them will be off to college in the fall.

after the ceremony, steve stops by eddie’s grave, something he doesn’t usually do in broad daylight. not because he’s ashamed or even scared, but because he knows seeing the reflection of his name on the headstone in the sunlight will send him into a grief-stricken spiral that he doesn’t have time for most days.

he sits with his back against the headstone, pretends it’s eddie’s chest and they’re just in steve’s bed, shooting the shit after making each other see stars.

“you’d be proud of them. they’re all off to do cool shit. nerd shit.” steve leans his head back and looks up at the clouds. “stuff you’d probably get a lot better than me. dustin tried explaining his major to me and i think i blacked out.”

he gulps, feels a sob building in his chest.

“i miss you. you should be here.”

he stays for a while after that, staring up at the sky and hoping that if a tear falls from his face, it at least waters the flowers growing under him.

he gets up eventually, because he has to get the gifts he got for everyone and head to their joint graduation party. joyce asked him to come early so he could help hop with setting up the bonfire.

“i’ll try to stop by again soon. don’t forget about me.”

steve walks away feeling heavier.

****

year five is when shit hits the fan.

robin transfers to a university in chicago and the kids are gone and joyce and hopper decide to travel since all the kids have gone and steve just stays.

wayne and faye get married after years of back and forth on it. wayne wants to, but faye thinks they’re fine without all the “hullabaloo” of a wedding. they compromise on having a small gathering at the courthouse, steve and faye’s two sons as witnesses. they all go out to lunch after.

it’s nice.

steve goes home to his empty house, and stares at the picture of eddie.

he doesn’t know the last time he really looked at this picture. he sees it every day when he wakes up, when he goes to bed. but it’s quick, and he’s half asleep.

as he stares at it now, he sees that there’s a hole near eddie’s stomach. it’s not a burn mark, but it might as well be.

and steve knows for a fucking fact it wasn’t there when he framed the picture.

weird shit happens in hawkins. that’s a fact.

but weird shit hasn’t happened in five years, not since eddie died to make sure weird shit didn’t keep happening.

this is weird shit.

he holds the frame in his hand. it’s not broken. it looks brand new, actually.

but the hole is there nonetheless.

with trembling hands, steve removes the picture from the frame. he thinks he’s seen where professionals can repair minor damage to photographs, but it’s probably not easy to find someone he can trust. not with this.

the hole is exactly where eddie’s wounds were the worst.

that’s just a coincidence, surely.

he brushes his fingertips across eddie’s beaming face, then the hole in the picture.

his side aches, deeply, like when the bats dug their teeth into him and tried to take him before they knew what they were dealing with.

the air feels thick, his chest feels weighted, and then darkness wraps him up in a thick blanket.

the picture falls from his grip as he loses consciousness.

****

“c’mon big boy. stay with me.”

steve blinks his eyes open and immediately wishes that he’d pass out again.

the pain is like nothing he’s felt before, all encompassing, lightning in every nerve-ending.

“sh, sh, sweetheart. it’s okay. we’re getting you help.”

steve can only whimper in response as he feels an explosion of pain in his side.

“is he breathing?” another voice is nearby, but steve can’t tell who it is.

“has the bleeding stopped?” that’s nancy. she’s much closer than the other voice.

he thinks hands are on him, but he’s starting to go blissfully numb.

“steve, open your eyes. we’re almost there.”

it’s eddie. of course it’s eddie.

his big eyes are watery, scared. steve doesn’t like when he’s upset.

he uses everything he has to grab the hand against his side. eddie’s rings are cold, almost a relief against the heat of his own skin.

“glad it’s me, not you,” he manages to say.

and he is.

because he knows that if eddie was the one who died, he’d never make it through.

****

steve hates waking up to noise. he’s told robin a million times to turn off her damn alarm when she stays over.

he blinks his eyes open slowly.

oh.

that’s not robin’s alarm. that’s the heart monitor next to him.

the heart monitor that’s hooked up to him.

he feels a tug in his side and realizes he’s being held together by stitches and a familiar weight on his arm.

eddie’s asleep on his arm.

not dead. not injured.

maybe a little grimy.

but alive.

steve can’t contain the sob he lets out.

it wakes eddie up. he’s never been a heavy sleeper, even when he was exhausted.

“stevie?”

another sob escapes steve. he feels like he’s missed eddie for years, feels like every moment he’s been without eddie passed at a snail’s pace and every second was filled with loneliness.

“you’re okay,” steve rasps out as tears fall down his cheeks, his neck, into his greasy hair.

“i’m okay?! you’re okay!” eddie is squeezing his arm and it hurts, but steve doesn’t care. he doesn’t want eddie to ever stop touching him, even if it hurts. “you almost died! i had control over the situation! what happened to not being heroes?”

steve’s smiling. it hurts to smile. eddie’s loud and his ears are ringing.

he doesn’t care. he’s alive. eddie’s alive.

“stevie? can you hear me?”

“hard not to, honey.”

eddie’s quiet for long enough that steve worries he dreamt him up. it wouldn’t be the first time. or maybe it would be. was any of that real? being without eddie?

“sorry. am i being loud?” eddie whispers and it’s good. everything’s good.

because eddie is here. steve is in pain, but eddie is here. this is real. it’s not a dream or his imagination or a delusion.

“a little.”

“sorry, baby. you scared me.”

“you scared me first.”

steve feels the pull of exhaustion, and he knows whatever is pumping through the needle in his arm is going to knock him back out within a matter of minutes.

“i protected dustin.”

“and i protected you.”

eddie huffs something between a laugh and a sigh. steve’s eyes are closed, but he can picture eddie’s face so clearly.

“you’re gonna owe me a million kisses when you can stay awake for longer than two minutes,” eddie says quietly.

steve smiles.

he’s pretty sure he won’t be able to keep his lips off him now that he knows he doesn’t have to live with the ghost of him.

[nataliescatorccioapologist]

A Travis Martinez Deep Dive/Character Analysis

Let’s talk about one of the most (if not the most) controversial characters in Yellowjackets! I definitely feel like many of Travis’ scenes and actions are misunderstood, so let’s dive in to his character and understand why he does what he does.

General Information

Travis Martinez is portrayed by Kevin Alves. He is described as being 16 years-old in the first drafts of the scripts, although it is unclear if he is still 16 in the final product or if he was aged up to 17 like the rest of the main cast in the teen timeline. His introduction in the script describes him as “lanky, sullen, teetering on the awkward, hormonal edge of impending hotness, a sensitive kid doing his absolute damndest to pretend he doesn’t care about anything.”

Travis attends Wiskayok High School in the (fictional) town of Wiskayok, New Jersey. His family consists of his father, Bill Martinez (who is the head coach of the Yellowjackets girls soccer team at WHS), his mother, and his little brother, Javi.

Relationship with His Family

We get a very brief glimpse into Travis’ home life before the crash in the Pilot episode, but it does give us a few hints of the conflicts present in his family. We see that Travis’ parents seem to have a distant relationship, with Travis’ father attempting to give his mother a kiss goodbye and her initially being resistant to it, but giving in only when she sees Travis watching. Travis rolls his eyes at this interaction, telling us it’s a common occurrence. Maybe it’s just me, but I’m definitely getting the sense that Coach Martinez has had some extramarital affairs and that Travis’ parents are only still married for the sake of keeping the family together.

Travis confesses to Nat that Coach Martinez was “a shit dad” and that he “didn’t even like” Travis. I think, at least in Travis’ mind, he has never been good enough to measure up to his father’s expectations. We get to see a brief sample of what Coach Martinez's parenting style may have been like in his scene with Jackie, in which his version of a "pep talk" is telling Jackie all of the ways in which the other girls on the team are better than her. I have a feeling Travis' dad often took the same approach with Travis; a gruff, "tough-love" demeanor that only resulted in a deep sense of inadequacy.

This dynamic has affected Travis' relationship with Javi, as well. My interpretation of their relationship is that, while Travis does deeply love and care for Javi, he also harbors some resentment towards him for receiving more softness and support from their father. This resentment only grows when the plane crashes and Travis is left completely responsible for Javi. He's feeling the pressure of having to be an example of masculinity for Javi and his new role as a father figure for Javi, all while dealing with the grief of his father's death. He's overwhelmed and afraid, and therefore he takes this out on Javi, which we can see particularly in the scene where he makes Javi spit out the gum their father gave him.

Travis is likely replicating the harsh parenting style of their father with Javi; it's all he knows. But, underneath, Travis loves Javi; enough to put himself through the trauma of digging up his father's corpse to get a ring for him and to trek through miles of snow in sub zero temperatures for months looking for him after he runs away.

This is why it is so, so heartbreaking when Travis loses Javi just as he's learning to show how much he loves him. My heart breaks at the thought that Travis will have to come back home and tell his mother that his father and little brother are dead.

Toxic Masculinity

It’s no secret that Travis is deeply, deeply insecure. And, as is the case with many young men, this insecurity manifests itself through sexism, unhealthy stoicism, hostility, and anger. It is important to remember that Travis is a teenager in the 90s, a time in which the sexualization of women in media was rampant. The Third Wave of feminism was underway, and with it came an increase of misogyny and backlash from men. Sexist jokes and comments were the norm, and Travis was likely surrounded by them in high school. As a result, we hear him call the girls "idiots," we hear him compare them to girls in porn magazines, we hear him tell Nat she should stick to "folding laundry" and "sucking ___" (we all know how that sentence was going to end). There's no true excuse for it, it's abhorrent behavior and it's unacceptable no matter what time period this is.

However, if we look into Travis' past, we can definitely find an explanation. Much of Travis' behavior can be drawn back to his insecurity and feeling that he is not good enough. We know he was bullied throughout high school as a result of Bobby Farleigh's "Flex" comment and we know that he feels like his father never really liked him; that he never felt good enough for him. Another aspect of Travis' insecurity can also be linked back to the idea of masculinity that has been fed to him by society: the strong, macho, stoic ideal. And it's clear (especially in Season 2) that Travis just does not fit this ideal. He's soft and sensitive, and because this goes directly against what he thinks he should be, he feels shame and embarrassment in himself.

And what do men do when they feel shame, insecurity, and/or sadness? They lash out. Men aren't allowed to show vulnerability, so they instead replace it with a more acceptable emotion: anger. And we definitely see this in the way that Travis lashes out at the people around him. And to make matters worse, Travis is one of the only men out there in the wilderness, making him feel even more pressure to be the strong masculine figure society expects him to be.

Reaction to Trauma

The pressure Travis feels to be "manly" bleeds into his response to trauma, as well. Travis has just watched his father die in a brutal and gruesome manner right before his eyes, and now he's out in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of teenage girls and a little brother to take care of. Most people would break down and cry.

Travis, on the other hand, is strangely apathetic. His only expression of emotion is anger. He snaps at Nat when she suggests that he help his brother, he yells at Javi and forces him to spit out the gum that is his only connection left to his father, he steals food from the others and blatantly insults them, and he essentially tells Javi to "get over it." Travis' coping mechanisms are clear: he distracts his grief with anger and he pushes away anyone that could possibly offer him support.

We see this again with another very significant trauma Travis endures: his sexual assault the night of Doomcoming. Travis is sexually assaulted by an entire group of girls, he clearly begs for them to stop (and they don't), and then he runs for his life and is almost killed. No one ever acknowledges this trauma and the next morning Travis is back to his usual ways, snapping at Natalie when she tries to emotionally support him and attempting to hurt her feelings to get her to stay away from him.

But it's clear, in both of these instances, that, underneath, Travis does care, and he is hurting. Despite him yelling at Javi, he wants to get his father's ring to make it up to him and support him. And when Nat doesn't budge and insists on helping him, Travis breaks down sobbing and admits that he "didn't want to" and that he is in love with her. (And in the script he even says that he wishes that Shauna had killed him that night, that's how strong his pain and shame are after Doomcoming!) Travis' hostile and abrasive behaviors are really a front he puts on to avoid being vulnerable, letting people in, and admitting to himself that he's struggling.

Relationship with Nat

Given Travis' tendency to push people away and hide his vulnerability, it’s not surprising that he forms a romantic connection with someone who mirrors his response to trauma: Natalie.

Their relationship starts off on shaky ground, marked by Travis' initial misogynistic remarks and even an incident where he points a loaded gun at Natalie. Despite this, Natalie is the only person who seems able to see through Travis' anger. Her own experiences with trauma—particularly the loss of her father—give her a deep understanding of what Travis is going through. Like him, she has developed a habit of distancing herself from others, driven by the pain of watching her father die and the lingering guilt of feeling responsible for his death.

This shared trauma—witnessing their fathers’ deaths and carrying the weight of guilt—creates the foundation of their connection. One pivotal moment that cements this bond is the scene where Natalie makes her first kill. Kevin Alves has explained that when Natalie and Travis kneel beside the dying deer and exchange a knowing look, it symbolizes the shared grief they both carry. In this moment, they are not just mourning the animal but, more profoundly, mourning their fathers together.

This scene serves as the emotional cornerstone of their relationship, which stretches over the next 25 years. Both Natalie and Travis are driven by guilt, shame, and self-loathing, and they both struggle with showing vulnerability. They have a pattern of pushing people away before anyone can get too close—a tragic cycle that defines their bond. They are trauma bonded and similar in all of the worst ways, which is what makes them so codependent and enmeshed, as they believe that no one else will ever understand them the way they understand each other.

Of course, Travis’ insecurity finds its way into his relationship with Nat, too. When Nat and Travis discuss having sex for the first time, Travis infamously asks Nat how many guys she has slept with. Nat immediately bristles, thinking that Travis is implying that she’s a “slut”, but, as the scene unfolds, we realize that Travis is actually just insecure about his own virginity in comparison with Nat’s sexual experience. He’s worried that, because of Jackie’s previous comments about Nat, sex with him won’t mean anything to Nat, whereas it would mean a lot to Travis. We can see how much relief he feels when Nat assures him that it does mean something to her, and “especially with him"; when she affirms he is good enough.

Travis’ tendency to get in his own head unfortunately makes itself known again when they actually attempt to sleep together; when Travis can’t get it up and runs out of the room. I think the script for this scene reveals a lot about what is actually going on in Travis’ head:

Travis’ feelings of inadequacy are spiraling here. He’s in awe of Nat and doesn’t feel good enough, and the pressure he’s putting on himself as a result is too much for him (and other parts of him…) to handle. As time passes in the wilderness and Travis lets go of some of his insecurity, we can see he becomes more communicative and releases some of his ego and insecurity as he discovers his spirituality (which we'll get into more in the next section).

Travis's love for Natalie is undeniable, but their relationship is inevitably toxic due to their shared trauma and self-destructive behaviors. After the crash, both turned to drug addiction as a way to numb their pain. Though they’ve tried to help each other stay clean over the years, their connection often pulls them back into destructive patterns. Every time Travis seems to be on the path to recovery, Natalie reappears, and she drags him back down with her again.

Javi’s death will create a huge, irreparable rift between them. It’s likely that Travis harbors deep resentment toward Natalie, not only for surviving when Javi didn’t but also for being a constant reminder of his lost brother. Yet, paradoxically, she is all he has left, and the thought of losing her, too, is unbearable. Despite their genuine love and care for each other, their relationship is fundamentally harmful.

Spirituality, Relationship with “The Wilderness,” and Development of a More Feminine Sense of Self

Season 2 marks a major shift in Travis’ character, and much of this is due to his newfound connection to Lottie. Travis’ desperation to find Javi makes him crave a sense of hope, and therefore makes him open to the idea of The Wilderness. Travis begins attending Lottie’s rituals, and expresses gratefulness towards her for the blood tea and reassurance that Javi is alive. As Travis becomes increasingly attached to Lottie and The Wilderness, we also see him become kinder, softer, and more vulnerable. Travis’ connection to The Wilderness allows him to release the societal norms and expectations that previously guided his toxic behaviors. He can let go of society’s idea of manhood and become a more authentic version of himself. We see that Travis has started to let himself show weakness, express emotion, and is much more open-minded and willing to consider other perspectives.

Lottie definitely becomes an important person to Travis in Season 2. I want to make something clear right now because I feel like it it very often misinterpreted. The writers have stated that Travis’ connection with Lottie is not meant to be interpreted as sexual in nature. Rather, Travis’ scenes with Lottie are meant to represent his spiritual connection with her and his need for guidance. The infamous sex scene between Natalie and Travis in which Travis has visions of Lottie present in the room is not Travis wishing Lottie was in Nat’s place, rather it is meant to represent the internal battle Travis is experiencing between his romantic love for Nat and his need for hope and spiritual belief. Lottie is being shown as a spiritual, religious figure in this scene. She’s not depicted in a sexual manner in Travis’ visions, but rather in a nurturing, holy light.

Nat and Lottie are directly opposed in this Season, with Nat representing pragmatism and Lottie representing faith. Travis is caught in the middle with his romantic connection to Nat and his faith in Lottie. While Nat tells him his brother is dead, Lottie tells him she knows he’s alive. Travis loves Nat, but it’s clear their differences in faith are creating a rift between them, and this rift is symbolized visually in their sex scene.

While Travis’ turn towards faith and spirituality does bring out a better, more likable side of him, it does, unfortunately, directly lead to his death in the adult timeline. While we likely won't get to see any more of Travis' story in the adult timeline, I am looking forward to seeing how he continues to develop in the wilderness and how his newfound spirituality and increasing disconnection with society will change him as a person.

Overall, while Travis can certainly be a deeply dislikable character at times, his development over the past two seasons has been fascinating to watch and he definitely has some hidden complexities that are starting to reveal themselves to the audience. Here's to Travis continuing to connect to his feminine side in Season 3!

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Chan x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Suicide, Death, Grief, Slight Age Gap, Life after loss, Cursing, Angst, Blood, Brother's Friend, Manic Behavior, Depression, Panic Attacks.

If you or someone you know is suffering from suicidal ideation or thoughts of harming themselves, please reach out for help. You never know when someone's last day will be; no one ever does. But if you can help - even just a tiny bit, sometimes a word, text, or even a call can be a catalyst for positive change.

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pt2 Part Three

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The plane touched down with a soft jolt, pulling you from the haze of exhaustion and a slight anxiety. As the aircraft came to a full stop, you stared out the window at the sprawling airport. Korea was now your home - or at least, it would be for the foreseeable future.

As long as things worked out.

Slowly, you disembarked and moved through the crowded terminals, your mind racing. Not with many coherent thoughts, but thoughts none the less.

You could feel the slight stares of some people, but they looked away almost as quickly. You hadn’t been in Korea for years, and the reality of stepping back into this world was a bit overwhelming.

Especially considering last time you were just a small child, watching your brother kickstart his career. You had seen the streets and people over countless video calls, but it had been a while since you had breathed the same air as them.

You ran through the differences in cultural norms and no-no's in your head as a way of keeping busy. It would be a culture shock; but it would be one you were prepared for.

You collected your luggage and made your way to the arrival hall, the bustling noise and movement swirling around you.

You stood there only a second before your attention was drawn. Through the crowd, you spotted a familiar face, even if the one with that face wasn't well known: Mr. Kim, your brother’s old manager, waiting by the barrier.

He was still the same as you had remembered- tall and authoritative, yet his eyes softened as he saw you. "The last time I saw you," he said with a nostalgic smile, "you barely reached my knees." His hand was level to your previous height, and his eyes crinkled.

He didn't seem old, but the age in his face showed years beyond the time he had spent on this planet. The lines of stress and sadness marring his objectively attractive features.

You managed a faint smile, feeling a lump in your throat. "It’s been a while." Hajun hadn't had a proper funeral. Your parents wanted something small, and he was buried quietly. A part of you were angered at the fact. You wished your parents had given him a proper funeral, so others who knew him also could mourn, but they had amounted it to saying there would be other services held by the company and those he knew in Korea; and that his immediate family of all people were the ones who deserved the most intimate goodbye. Which is why they decided to forgo any big production and just have him buried within days of his passing.

There was an uncomfortable silence, and you searched your mind for something to say.

How do you go about things like this? Sorry for your loss? Sorry our loss?

Before you could say anything, a young man with dark hair and a warm smile stepped forward. It was Haru, one of Hajun’s group members. He hesitated briefly, giving you a look before pulling you into a gentle hug.

You instinctively shut your eyes, letting yourself breathe in his scent. It was a while since you had a hug, and it felt so good it was almost as if Hajun was the one holding you in his embrace.

Haru had always smelled like the flowers of his native country. You remembered the distinct cherry blossom and an earthy musk. Smelling it, it was impossible not to think of springtime breezes, and you knew as long as you lived it would be a smell that evoked a sense of peace and grounding within you, a scent that would always remain familiar.

"It’s good to see you again Hime," Haru said softly. He rested his hand on your head gently and smiled. He had referred to you as princess for as long as you could remember.

He was who you would consider Hajun's very best friend. His company was one of the more gracious ones offering substantial rest after great work- and with every holiday Hajun had been able to make it home, or every time the group was resting between comebacks and he decided to fly home, even if only for a weekend, Haru tagged along.

He had been calling you Hime even longer. The first time you had seen him on stage, dancing next to Hajun your 9-year-old self fell in love with the guy who in your eyes was as beautiful as a Prince. Even if Haru was 16 at the time.

"Juju, you met a Prince!" Your lisp due to your missing teeth was endearing, and your parents had laughed at how rosy your cheeks were as you watched Haru dry his sweat with a towel. Hajun grunted as he lifted you into his arms, then laughing as you wiggled wanting to be put down.

"I'm not a baby! He'll think I'm a baby!" You whined, perching yourself behind Hajun's leg as you watched Haru interact with a staff member. He chuckled and turned.

"Haru! Atarashī fan ga dekita to omoimasu. (Haru! I think I've found a fan)" Your eyes widened as unfamiliar words rolled off of your brother's tongue, those words causing the dark haired boy to turn in your direction. You immediately slinked back behind your brother even more, as Haru squatted down to your eye level. "Kanojo wa anata no koto o ōji-samada to omotte imasu.(She thinks you're a prince)"

He had smiled and waved. "What's your name?" You just stared and didn't answer, honestly a little shocked to how well he spoke English, little you blind to the fact that he had spent a few years of his youth in America. He gave a mock pout. His eyes bright and kind. "I didn't think Princesses were usually this shy. I guess I'll just have to call you Hime. Is that okay, Hime?"

His eyes had held that same kindness that you had first seen in them all that time ago and every time after. A type of kindness that couldn't be ignored. The followers of Eclips3 often referred to Hajun and Haru as their "spring" due to their similar demeanors. Haru being more so the start of Spring, the transition of cold to warm, and calm. While Hajun was the warmth into something a bit fierier and more energetic. The countless videos you had seen captioned "Our Spring" that captured the wholeness of their relationship made your heart ache with longing.

Another two men, Jiho and Sunwoo, stepped forward, their expressions mirroring Haru’s kindness. They also gave you warm hugs, and you could sense their familiarity. You had met them a few times maybe at most three, but they had always been friendly and welcoming, treating their beloved maknae's family as their own.

Jiho and Sunwoo looked at each other, and the older one spoke first.

"Y/N...we...we wanted to say-"

You shook your head. "You don't have to apologize or say sorry for your loss... or our loss. It's not your fault. It's not anyone's..." You felt robotic as you said those things, as if you didn't believe them yourself. "I'm just glad that while he was here, he had you guys. So thank you." Your tone wasn't rude, but it conveyed that Hajun was something that you wished to not talk about at the moment.

Mr. Kim placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "We’re here for you now- to support you, Y/N. We’re your family now, just as we were for Hajun."

A surge of emotion welled up inside you, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You had done so good keeping it in since you had embarked on the plane journey, so good as your feet touched the ground at Incheon. But the presence of these familiar faces, people who had known your brother and had shared moments with him, provided a strange mix of comfort and sadness, that was threatening to break down that wall.

"We should get going," Haru said, his voice gentle. "The car is waiting outside. And while I'm sure paparazzi wouldn't recognize you in quick, they'll recognize us, and I'm sure you don't want the cameras on you at this point in time."

You nodded, allowing them to guide you through the airport and out into the crisp air. You watched as a few people snapped pictures, and it felt odd to you that they had that much audacity to invade their personal lives in a time like this.

Shouldn't they at least give them time to mourn before taking pictures? It's been a little over almost two months but still.

Haru and Sunwoo stood in position to cover your face in a subtle enough way that it seemed to be accidental.

As you settled into the car, surrounded by people who had been part of your brother’s world, you felt a small flicker of hope. This new chapter was beginning with a sense of connection to your past, even if Hajun wasn’t there to walk through it with you.

As the car pulled away, you glanced out the window, taking in the unfamiliar landscape.

"So, uh, if you don't mind me asking what made you want to come to Korea...and take after...take after Jun..." Jiho asked quietly. He was sitting in the middle row with Sunwoo. He was turned slightly in his seat and so was Sunwoo.

You felt Haru tense in the seat next to you, and visibly saw Mr. Kim's shoulders grow stiff.

Your jaw twitched slightly as you stringed together the right words to figure out what to say.

Jiho took this as you being angered by the question and started to apologize, but you spoke in a firm an even voice.

"This is my gift...my...favor to him. He left things behind. No reason in letting it go to waste."

It was simple. Maybe too simple. But if you said anymore, it would be hard to explain your thought process to him. It seemed like it worked though, since rather than continue the conversation Mr. Kim changed the direction of your chatter.

"First, let me say that the company is very interested in you," He began, his voice calm but deliberate. "When the proposal was first brought up, there were mixed reactions. It’s not every day that we consider bringing the sibling of a deceased idol into the fold, especially one as beloved as Hajun. There were concerns, naturally, about how the public would react - whether it would be seen as a tribute or as something exploitative. But once we discussed it more those concerns began to fade."

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes locking with yours in the rearview mirror as if to make sure you understood the gravity of what he was saying. "The company recognizes that you’re not just Hajun’s sister; but you’re an individual with your own talents and dreams. It didn't hurt that when Hajun was alive, he tended to brag about you and your abilities a lot." That sparked a couple of smiles and laughs from the guys in the car- and even a smile from you. "They want to help you develop those talents, or teach you the skills you need to learn in order to do well, but they’re also aware of the weight of expectations that will be placed on your shoulders because of who your brother was. That’s something we’ll have to navigate carefully."

Mr. Kim paused for a moment, letting the words sink in before continuing. "Training will be intense, as it always is. You’ll be put through rigorous training. While the language training deosn't seem like it will be a big issue, we'll still have to focus on dance and vocal training, regardless of how well you think you can perform. The company will expect you to work hard, just like any other trainee. But because of your connection to Hajun, there might be additional pressure - both from the public and from within the company - to see you succeed quickly. If you adapt well, there’s a possibility you could debut within a year, maybe even sooner, depending on how fast you progress."

He glanced at the group of Hajun’s former bandmates - Jiho, Sunwoo, and Haru, who were watching you both with a mix of concern and quiet encouragement. "Your relationship with the remaining members of Eclips3 will be important," Mr. Kim continued. "The company is considering the idea of you training alongside them, possibly even joining them in some capacity. They’ve already agreed to help you with your training, especially since they know you and care about you. Sunwoo, for instance, has volunteered to assist with your vocal training, and Jiho is eager to help you refine your dancing skills whenever needed. Haru, as the one closest to you, will likely take on a sort of mentor role for you."

He hesitated for a moment, then added, his expression turning more serious - "While you most likely won’t officially debut until a year or so from now as I said, due to the special circumstances, you’ll almost instantaneously be thrown into the spotlight. Given your background and connection there’s no avoiding it. Not to mention you won’t be participating in survival shows like a lot of trainees; the company is already planning to arrange for you to appear in other media - variety shows, interviews, and even special features. They want to introduce you to the public in a way that builds anticipation and interest..." He paused, clearly choosing his words carefully. "I want to be honest with you and say while we don’t intend for this to be exploitative, the reality is that everything in this industry is, at its core, a business. Simply put, the company agreed to this path so easily due to the amount of pull it will have to the public. Meaning more money for the. Your journey will most likely be one that is broadcasted extensively, with the story behind it being a focal point. I wouldn't even be surprised if they made a documentary off of it one day. Not for his legacy but for money..." His voice was sad, tinged with what sounded like regret. "The public will be fascinated, not just because you’re Hajun’s sister, but because of the emotional narrative that comes with it. I wished it didn't amount to this. But it all comes back to money, even in delicate situations like this."

"Regardless I admire you greatly for doing this. Because I know your intentions are pure, even if the industry's isn't. We’ll do our best to protect you from the harsher aspects of this process, but you need to be prepared for the fact that your every move will be watched closely. This journey, while deeply personal for you, will be a spectacle for others. It’s a difficult balance, but if we handle it right, it could also be an opportunity for you to share your story on your own terms. To share Hajun's story..." He took off his glasses and wiped the bridge of his shirt with his nose, giving himself a minute. "It'll be a great opportunity for you to cement his memory as something positive rather than a tragedy. To allow us to remember him the way we knew him." His voice was somewhat shaky and you turned away not wishing to see him cry. Jiho, Sunwoo, and Haru were all sitting in a deep silence, and you didn't look up in case you were to see a stray tear.

"Housing will be arranged close to the other members, so you’ll have a support system nearby." Mr. Kim's voice was back to an even enough tone as he pulled himself together. "The company understands that this is a strange and difficult situation, so they want to make sure you feel supported - emotionally, not just professionally." Mr. Kim stopped once more, as if in thought. "You’ll have access to counseling and any other resources you might need as you transition into this new chapter of your life."

His words hung in the air, heavy with both promise and the unspoken weight of what lay ahead. But there was also a sense of hope, a belief that, despite the challenges, this could be the start of something meaningful -not just for you, but for everyone who had been touched by Hajun’s legacy.

And he was right, it was an opportunity for you to shape the narrative of Hajun.

"What about you guys?" The words almost flew off your tongue, you didn't even comprehend thinking of the question. "What is going to happen with you guys?"

Jiho’s voice was low, a hint of resignation coloring his words as he explained the situation. "We’ve disbanded," he said, the finality of the statement hanging heavy in the air. "Losing two members back-to-back...losing Hajun..." His breath was soft. "None of us want to step on stage again. Music doesn't bring that same joy. If it wasn't for you, than I more than sure all of us would have completely departed from the idol life."

"We were already on hiatus after...after the scandal..." Sunwoo didn't even speak their former leader's name. "And now that we lost our maknae..." His voice held a deep affection and love for Hajun, and your heart pounded with an ache. "It was inevitable."

You nodded in understanding. Haru's voice ringing last.

"Music isn't something I enjoy anymore." He spoke in Japanese, and looked up as if he could see through the roof of the car. If he could see his best friend. "It's just a means of work to distract me."

His dark eyes met yours. "But at least it'll be with you Hime. So, I get to see a little bit of Hajun. Right Hime?" His voice was cracking and his eyes watering.

That kindness being flooded by something that mirrored your own woes. But never disappearing. No, not fully. Never fully.

Even in the quiet, aching absence of what once was, Haru still radiated a brightness that couldn’t be dimmed. Even with the knowledge of the torment he carried inside, you still selfishly basked in the compassion that encompassed him. His smile would remain as warm as ever, even if there was a subtle shadow behind it, a testament to the internal struggle against the anguish he bore in silence.

He was light. He was good. Too good.

Hajun was good. He was so good. Too good. Too good for whatever this world was.

The fandom had been right to call Hajun and Haru their spring. The love and warmth and peace and life that had radiated from both of them was like an eternal spring. Like the fresh blooming of flowers after the melting of the winter snow.

They were spring.

And Hajun's loss was like the wilting of the first cherry blossoms, their vibrant beauty fading too soon.

A death that left Haru standing alone in a season that would never fully return.

⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹

If you or someone you know is suffering from suicidal ideation or thoughts of harming themselves, please reach out for help. You never know when someone's last day will be; no one ever does. But if you can help - even just a tiny bit, sometimes a word, text, or even a call can be a catalyst for positive change.

988 - USA Suicide Prevention Hotline | 24 Hours 111 - Helpline UK | 24 hours 1393 - Suicide Hotline Korea | 24 hours

⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@0325tiny @resi4skz @soaplickerrr

@leezanetheofficial @stressymessyana @istglevi-gotmesimping

@hannamoon143 @kayleefriedchicken

[merinathropp]

hi yeah so Kara's portrayal of Mrs. Danvers absolutely tore my heart out and blew the roof off when I saw Rebecca London two weeks ago so here are some observations I'm finally writing down

- after the costume ball scene, Ich was trying to run back up the stairs, and Danny came down them towards her with THE MOST SWEETLY EVIL GRIN IMAGINABLE, just absolutely smug and delighted and totally unashamed of herself, I have literally never loved Danny more, good for her, let her be happy etc. you just know she slept SO well that night

- balcony scene, when she's telling Ich to jump: for the first few lines, she wasn't looking at Ich at all, she was gazing out into the ocean, and she had this awful twisted look of despair/panic on her face as she said 'you'll never be happy, no one wants you, no one needs you', and my heart literally plummeted because it seemed as though Danny was talking to herself*, not Ich. she snapped out of it a second later and very deliberately turned to look at Ich to deliver the rest of her speech, but oh my gosh, WHAT an inspired and heartbreaking choice???

(*apparently Kara confirmed on Instagram that this is her intention with those first few lines huuhhjsdhfksajdf I'm obsessed)

- the first time I saw this production, I was confused by how polite and normal Danny behaved to Ich for most of Act 1, BUT NOW I SEE THE LIGHT!!!! the whole brilliance of Kara's portrayal is this delicate slow burn effect, she's perfectly cool and collected during their first interactions, then gradually gets more mad and emotional as the show goes on

- Rebecca IIII (after the phonecall) she walked very, very slowly down the stairs with one hand clapped over her mouth, fell to her knees clutching the banister, and sobbed. she hadn't sung a note and I was already crying watching her. so many Dannys make that moment about anger and betrayal (which is valid!!!), but I was bowled over to see Kara make it about Danny just crumpling to pieces and finally allowing herself to cry and cry for the woman she loved.

- (then she somehow proceeded to sob and belt her way FLAWLESSLY through the entire reprise, I couldn't believe how clean her notes were when she had tears streaming down her face???? and the absolute icing on the cake: on the final few lines, it was like all her grief just iced over, her face hardened into this look of total focus and hatred, and she stood up slowly singing 'now it's time for your revenge on Manderley' absolute perfection honestly.)

basically we're all blessed beyond belief by Kara's Danny and idk what I will do when this production closes. live in perpetual grief forever I guess.

[acim-ed-ortsac]

the Devil doesn’t bargain

Reader and Proud Immortal Demon Way

You were naive.

Died by the hands of a speeding car, you reincarnated into the world SVSSS…or PIDW you’re assuming since you found yourself becoming a slave with Shen Jiu and Yue  Qi, with your slave number being Ba for eight. The slavers found you when you were a toddler, bringing you to where the other slave children were. There, you were raised alongside Shen Jiu and Yue Qi. You were quite happy because Shen Jiu was your favorite character, despite not being there in the three books. 

He was human with many layers and sides. You didn’t see an evil scumbag or a bitter slave that became a Peak Lord, but rather a child that was molded by society’s cruelty. Having taken psychology, you knew the Nature vs Nurture theory and evidence of it. And it’s clear that Shen Jiu is the product of Nurture rather than Nature.

You three were inseparable, becoming the dusk of Qi-ge’s light and A-jiu’s night. You had no hesitation to steal if it meant that your friends would be fed. A-Jiu would scold you while Qi-he would fuss over you, checking for wounds. It was then you swore you would change their fates from the original plot.

Even when you three were sent to the Qiu Household and Qi-ge ran away with the promise of returning, you stayed with A-Jiu to share his suffering. You became a friend and kindred spirit. 

Even when you burned the Qiu’s house, except for Qiu Haitang, the women and the children. You held A-jiu’s hand all this time, smiling at him. Shen Jiu asked, “Will you not leave me?”

And you only graced him with a smile while saying, “I’ll be with you, A-Jiu. Whether fire, water, or air. Through light and darkness, I’ll be with you. And if you die, I’ll burn the world that has wronged you.”

You watched his eyes tear up as determination roared in your chest, prepared to change his fate.

30 years later…

A-jiu’s dead.

You stared emotionlessly at the corpse of Shen Jiu, now Shen Qingqiu, who’s now a bound corpse in the middle of the Huanhua palace room where his trial was. Cultivators, especially the ones from the great four sects were either celebrating his death and those angered that he got out too quickly before he could be replayed tenfold.

You walked towards the corpse, ignoring any voice that spoke your way, they were irrelevant. You took A-Jiu in your arms, his cold body against your warm and alive one as you embraced him. You nosed into the crook of his neck as anger began to bubble like a pot of water on a stove. Shaking, you hold him tightly as you grit your teeth.

“What are they doing!?”

“A friend?”

“As if that scum has any friends!”

The last line broke any restraint as you screamed into the ceiling with unbridled anger, letting out the demon that resided in you unleashed.

BENDY!

The ink demon was delighted to be out.

A shrilling screech followed by a guttural roar resounded throughout the room before black inky tentacles shot out of you and latched themselves onto everyone within the sect building. No one could escape, even as they resisted and struggled, it was fruitless as the tentacles latched onto their heads, rendering them still and vulnerable.

As you fed them the memories of Shen Jiu, letting them watch the nightmare you and he went through, you began singing. Call you mad in grief and sorrow, it’s the last piece of sanity you could entertain before actually going mad with anger, grief, and sorrow.

Before you destroyed Jianghu.

The lyrics left your lips before you even noticed, broken with incoming sobs.

 “ The moon will sing a song for me,

I loved you like the sun

Bore the shadows that you made

With no light of my own

I shine with only the light you gave me…

I shine with only the light you gave me…”

The voices from the puddles join in with your singing, comforting your loss. Tears fell like a waterfall from your eyes, only to be wiped by a grotesque and deformed hand. The hand itself was barely covered by a glove, which only protected the palm and not the three fingers it had. A deep and guttural voice spoke beside you, near your ear. “Angry, little human?”

You looked back at Bendy, whose human teeth were stretched into an inhumanely wide smile, his horns curved back, and his body disfigured and disproportionate. He looms over you, towers even, but you feel no fear.

“So much,” you replied as the tentacles slowly retreated back onto Bendy, you came out of your back. One by one, the cultivators in the room regain awareness of their surroundings, pale with horror and realization. You glanced at Luo Binghe, who at one point had sympathized with him and loved him, who looked at you with new realization, paleness, and something unreadable.

You moved on to the Cang Qiong sect, where the peak lords are white as a sheet as they realize what they had done to your misunderstood friend.

Qiu Haitang, whom you glared with disgust, trembled. “No…it can’t be..my brother—“

“Was a lecherous, greedy, scum bastard,” you spat out the words like acid. “Qiu Janlou,”’ you said the name like it was a bitter delicacy. “That’s what he was. And you were too blind to see it, stupid princess.”

“I thought you were lying!” She cried, so into her head at the revelation and revealed that she didn’t notice you walking towards her. It wasn’t only till you gripped her head with your fingers, squishing her cheeks painfully while digging your nails. “Do you also wanna know?” You said loudly for all of them to hear. “Your brother lusted after you! That man was not only a lecher but also an incestuous mutt! A pathetic human being so low to even live!”

Before the girl could say anything, you slapped her, nails scratching her cheek. “You spoiled,” another slap “coddled, “and another “weak mistress!” A final slap sent her to the ground, her pretty face marred with scars from your nails.

You flicked the blood of your nails, sneering in disgust. Her sobs didn’t deserve any sympathy from you.

You then looked at the Old Palace master, a smile so vile with anger that he would've melted on the spot. “And all you pathetic cultivators talk about scum, you  aren’t aware that a certain scum hides amongst you!”

They all turn to the Old Palace Master, who tries and fails to put up a kind facade. “What evidence do you have—“

“Oh, we’re really going that route?” You smiled with teeth, Bendy as the Ink Demon laughed behind you. “How about we ask Tianlang-Jun that!”

At your words, demonic qi filled the room as the said demon lord entered with casual swag, Zhuzhi-lang by his side. They gasped at his appearance, disbelief, and anger as they tried to make sense of this.

Tianlang-Jun, for his part, smiles casually yet his eyes hold malicious anger. “My, it has been quite a while since I’ve seen some familiar faces,” his eyes immediately went to the Old Palace Master. “Especially you.”

“How!?” The old man cried, speaking the question everyone had in mind.

With dramatic flair, you looked at Luo Binghe. “Luo Binghe, I would like to introduce to you Tianlang-Jun, your father. Who loved your mother, Su Xiyan, with all of his heart. Unfortunately, her Shizun was obsessed with her and out of jealousy, lied to the whole cultivation world to get rid of Tianlang-Jun. Who poisoned Su Xiyan to kill the baby who is now known as Luo Binghe.”

Meeting the said young man’s eyes, you then stated. “And the reason why you became an orphan.”

You ignored the hitched breath as you looked at the cultivators gathered, “Pathetic cultivators, young and old, I have come to announce the destruction of Jianghu!”

Expectedly, this outraged everyone excluding the two demons and you. Yue Qi looked at you pleadingly, trying to negotiate or settle this peacefully, but you snapped your head at him with fierce eyes. “Don’t talk to me so familiarly, Zhangmen-shixiong.” You said mockingly, outraging his shidis and disciples in his sect. “He was your brother, your friend! And yet you sided with the majority when it came to rumors and accusations! Didn’t I tell you to stay by his side, to give the benefit of the doubt to these rumors!? Are my visits a waste of time if this is the result!?” You groused, fingers elongating and scales fluttering on your cheek. “What a poor brother you have been to A-Jiu, you pathetic excuse of a brother!”

With a snap of your fingers, shards of glass hurriedly gathered into the air to form a single shard. The reflection then changed to the entirety of the Central Plains, whose faces were horrified and angry. You laughed, “People of the human realm, do you judge these cultivators as unworthy protectors of you all!?”

“Yes!” The people in the shard answer.

“What’s going on…” a cultivator asked, losing sense of reality.

“They know?!”

“The common people were watching the whole time!?”

“Stop them!” The Little Palace mistress shrieked, outraged that not only her father was slandered but soon their reputation would be destroyed.

“Silence!” You growled at her. “You have your answer from the people,”

Deciding enough was enough, you looked up at the sky with arms raised at your sides. “You celebrate his death, I’ll only celebrate…”

“When your ashes fall.”

From there, like a broken dam, demons poured into the building with glee.

Years later…

The story of the ruler of the Human realm spread for millennia. The story of how they overthrew the Emperor and his courts, how they exposed the truth of the cultivator world and brought it down to rebuild it back up. The story of how the Ruler of the Human realm soon merged and traded with the Demon Realm’s Emperor, Tianlang-Jun, who had been wronged by the cultivators.

In return for freeing him, Tianlang-Jun handed his only blood son to them as payment for their loss of a friend.

Some may pity the half-blood, but others would say that he got what he deserved for being blinded by hate and anger.

There were stories of the Qing Jing peak lord, Shen Qingqiu, who was abused at youth, and climbed to the top to have security, only to be gifted with accusations and a trial by the cultivators he adored. 

There were songs about the tragedy of the two friends, the death of Shen Jiu, and the loss of the Ruler.

Demons and humans soon assimilated into each other, and racism between them soon became little as they understood one another. Cultivators soon became not demon eradications but rather equal to demons when it comes to fighting. The ruler of the Human realm does not tolerate racism, nor do they tolerate slavery, leading to the abolishment of slavery and giving the homeless a place of food and shelter while giving children a chance to learn and adults a chance to earn.

Yet, despite the good they have achieved, the ruler of the human realm soon died afterward, leaving their head disciple as heir.

The son of Tianlang-Jun, Luo Binghe, soon returned to the Demon Realm and it was whispered that he had changed while under the human ruler. There are whispers from servants that he has mellowed down and soon became hard-working yet stoic, not taking any wives or husbands nor concubines.

There were whispers of the servants from his chambers that said that when he would think he was alone, he would clutch a fan and a stuffed toy in his hands, pulling them close to his chest.

No one knew of the Ink Demon that lurks in the Human Palace, following, and tailing the Ruler. No one knows of its inky abyss that had sent rats of pathetic beings down to become one of the monstrous creations or a Lost Soul. No one knows that once the Ruler has passed, it soon lingers in the shadows of their Head disciple who took on the mantle to rule.

———-

All was dark before voices invaded your ears, stirring you to the waking world. When you woke up to clear green eyes, you weren’t surprised to find yourself back in the past with Shen Jiu. And by the looks of it, the wretched Qiu shack they put the two of you in.

You snarled internally when you looked at A-Jiu’s broken legs, “No…”

You refused to repeat the past.

Manhandling Shen Jiu on your back, you broke down the wooden wall of the shack with your body before running with Shen Jiu.

You won’t let Shen Jiu die.

You won’t let him be wronged.

You will make sure he’s raised with love.

With knowledge.

You’ll make sure he’s living happily.

Away from Cang Qiong.

Away from other cultivators.

Away from Luo Binghe.

With your knowledge of the future and the teachings that you had learned before your death, you’re sure of things.

A year ago…

The sound of screams was music to your ears, watching in glee as everything was thrown into chaos. Bendy having his fun with tearing apart any foolish cultivator that tried to go up against you. You watched as those who had wronged your friend were thrown to the ground before being branded as property for the demons to claim.

That was your end of the deal, offering any cultivator in the designated place that catches the eyes of the demons helping you.

You clapped with manic joy as you watched the Little Palace Mistress wail at the hot brand being burned on her skin by a large demon, who looked at her with leering eyes. Was this wrong? Morally, yes. But then again, it was an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. Hammurabi's code historically. You did say to A-Jiu that you will burn the world that wronged him to the ground, and you’re about to do that.

You in your madness of rage, glee, and vindictiveness, spun in the middle of the chaos. “Kings have honor,” your right hand flung to the side open-handed in the air “Soldiers have bravery,” your other hand reached to the other side, making you go in a wide arm stance with two of your hands up in the air as if praising the gods up above. You then brought your hands together before clasping at your chest, “And poets have heart.” You smiled even when you felt a threat going behind your back. “But all I have…” Even when they raised a sword upon you before bringing it down…

Swish! Clang!

Luo Binghe looked absolutely dashing in his demonic heritage when you stopped Xin Mo with a scythe you procured from your sleeve. You kept your smile even then, eyes wide with fury, ink dripping down your face as if you were melting.

"̵̧̛̻̦̲̮̱̻̰̱̰̰͊̊Ḭ̶̧̺̜̮͙̗̙͓̿́͊̓̏̑͐̔̍͒̉͂̈́Ṡ̶̞̣̹͓̻̣̝͚̾̎ ̵̨̨͚̤̗̓͗̐̌̉R̵̢̡̩̦̘̗̪͇̬̺̓͆̓́̀͜͠Ą̷̮͎͎͒Ğ̸̫͎̗̠͓̖͇Ę̵̧̺̹̣̫͚̹͔̞͋̂̈́̐̍̈́͐̋̚!̵̡̧̼̠͓̥͓̬̗͕̜̙̄̈́͋̈͑̒̉͆"̷̟͎͉́̒̚ ———————

Throughout the years, you’ve managed to avoid Cang Qiong and the other sects, even people that hurt you and Shen Jiu such as Wu Yanzi. (Although you killed him when you had the chance.) You taught A-Jiu everything you knew about being a cultivator, such as opening your spiritual sense and forming a golden core, and even stole some manuals that’ll help you.

You both lived out your days in a cave, which you redecorated to both of your liking. A-Jiu learned to sew robes for the two of you, the quality immaculate, as expected as the soon-to-be - now the former peak lord.

You taught him how to read and write, which garnered his suspicions. You told him the truth, how you knew the future, and how you retained your memories. At first, A-Jiu was in disbelief but soon believed you since you had knowledge that was above a slave.

You two lived happily…

Until people from the past came looking for Shen Jiu.

Ao3

[frothingatthemaw]

An analysis on Stevo Levy (SLC Punk! 1998)

[my partner (@cassetteplayersstuff) and i rambled about slc punk! for around two hours, and i wanted to construct it a bit more coherently, so here's that final product.]

Stevo flinching away so quickly after checking Bob’s pulse means he didn't even have time to see if there was a pulse because his body was so cold, that’s a terrifying feeling and having to carry that with you forever. It’s hard to think about the reality of what that could be like, especially with the one person who’d been your person since you were 14. That’s some deep grief, and everything else ending too in one fell swoop, losing everything. The loss is hard to imagine. As Stevo was already feeling the pit in his stomach of things closing off anyways, he could have never expected to find his best friend dead. Even more so after a night that seemed to go pretty well, despite telling himself he’s changed and he needs to move on. 

This doesn’t even begin to explain the guilt he must’ve felt for yelling at him a little while prior, telling him to grow up and that SLC wasn’t Stevo’s home and it never was, but I also think this was a subtle way of saying that nothing mattered to Stevo anymore except for Bob because Bob had always been there. It had always been Bob. He could never see himself wanting to be there, and at the same time he could never see himself as being anywhere other than right next to Bob.

Even when Stevo was mentioning that maybe they were more different than he thought he still had all that love for Bob, they could get through every up and down and change the world threw at them together. Just them against everything in the end, that was definitely their order, the rules they abided by was being there by each other's side no matter what.

It was the end of all ends and nothing in the entire universe could’ve prepared Stevo for that. Nothing. And Bob even said he loved Stevo the day before he died and called him his brother.

Of course their friendship was close enough that even if he didn’t realize it, Stevo lashed out at Bob about that because it was safe to, it was a more personal anger instead of the whole being angry at everyone all the time thing. He had all those feelings welling up and all he could do with them was lash out. And to just know that he could do this, and know the next day there would be no hard feelings because that's how much they cared about each other, only to find that he couldn't just wake up and continue on with their lives like always. I don’t think Stevo felt safe with anyone else besides Bob. Sure he talked to people about punk things and such, but that wasn’t him, was it? 

Stevo was angry to begin with because he cares. He didn’t want to lose Bob to Trish because Stevo was the one Bob loved first. He didn’t want to be left. He didn’t want to imagine Bob anywhere else than with him, by his side for the next thousand years. He was so fucking afraid too. He was scared for the ending to come. He was scared and he wanted Bob to be there to hold his hand.

And who else in the entire universe would Bob have taken to see his dad on his birthday with? No one else in the entire world would’ve been there with him other than Stevo. Bob apologizing to Stevo afterwards of the whole mess and then Stevo apologizing in return. That's love and trust. The trust with Bob's dad too was a lot, and especially when later after the party he’d been drugged, and he was crying and saying he isn't like his dad. Bob knowing after all these years his favorite person finally saw a side of his past he never let anyone see and was terrified this changed Stevo’s thoughts on who he was as a person, but obviously all Stevo saw was his best friend who needed a little more support than he thought before, but never saw Bob as genuinely crazy or less than because of that part of his life. They have the type of relationship where they had they could voice their feelings in the most ugly, terrible, raw way and wake up the next day knowing that they will still be there by the other’s side.

Stevo softened so much after seeing Bob's dad and I think a lot snapped into place, like Bob's love for Trish and such. Because it’s apparent Bob didn’t get that much and so the love he got from Stevo and Trish went miles long. Bob needed to pour himself into someone who loved him too. Honestly the whole ordeal made Stevo love Bob more, made him want to be in his life even more than before, if that were even possible. Bob's fear of Stevo’s thoughts on him changing is more proof that Stevo is a highly valued person in his life, and just a broken person at all. The feelings in that van afterwards were a lot to breathe through. The interaction of Stevo accusing Bob of being a poser for falling in love with Trish and then immediately following up saying he didn’t mean it proves that they know there’s never hard feelings between them, despite whatever bad shit could be said. And Bob knew this too, but Stevo just didn’t want his best friend to think he genuinely thought one bad thing about him. I think Stevo’s biggest fear was losing Bob and then it happened. That was the most feared thing that he wanted to push out of his mind because of the situation with Sean, but it happened anyway and it wrecked his world.

And when Mark pulled the gun on Bob. You can tell Stevo is scared out of his wits but he still yells at Mark to protect Bob in any way that he can make an effort to. He would’ve taken as many bullets as it took for him. Stevo would do anything for Bob, anything in the world. All Bob had to do was name it. 

And, God, the excitement Stevo had after seeing Bob while he was in the hospital. The physical touch of play fighting with him. He adored him so entirely much. Stevo was safe with Bob and trusted him with his life just as much as he would’ve given it over to save Bob's. They were each other’s entire worlds and they evolved around one another.

It was like how Chris was talking about the cycle. Chaos and structure and it flip flops like that. That’s exactly Bob and Stevo as well.

At the end of the day, no matter if Stevo were a poser, or if Bob were a poser, love was the main contender of it all. Love was apparent and obvious in each individual thing that happened between them. Like yeah, they could’ve been a lot more different than they realized, but that was said, too, out of Stevo’s fear of the change and the possibility of losing Bob altogether. Stevo wanted to push until it happened or that the bubble burst, so it would happen already and he could get over the hurt as soon as he could. He couldn’t stand watching Bob slowly let go of things, and Stevo didn’t want to say he would’ve stayed through anything with Bob, but deep down, they both knew. It was engraved into their bones, an unspoken bound, a promise they both secretly kept and held one another to. Love was the baseline of it all, to love and to be loved, to love and to lose.

Maybe if Stevo could’ve voiced those fears sooner they could’ve been in a different place in their lives, still together but maybe less hurt, maybe a different hurt. All the what ifs of if they did things differently. They would have stayed together anyway, no matter their choices in life. That fear of losing Bob that Stevo pushed off indirectly leading to him losing Bob is tragic, something I’m sure he lays awake at night thinking about, if he had maybe had the guts to face his fears head on, then maybe his friend would still be right next to him to cheer him up, or maybe it was always going to happen.

It's a tragic thing for Stevo to me, because the more I deeply look at his character and his relationship with Bob, the more I think he could have BPD. Because of his feelings of fear with the losing but not wanting to face any of it, and the shame of admitting you so deeply care about this person. I think in the punk scene as well, Stevo had this warped vision on being able to voice your feelings and fears to someone you love. Especially with his parents, what a shitshow. His view on love, platonic or romantic or whatever else, was doomed from the beginning because he really did have no positive view on love and how it can succeed. Stevo didn’t have a reference point for that, and he sure as hell didn’t get taught it from anywhere. The lack of reference for what love can look like when it's good, it blinded him from the fact that he had good love right there with him and Bob, because admitting it meant admitting that it could also go away, and I don't think he could ever prepare for that. Separating himself from that idea in the end didn't help him prepare anyway like he cries out when he finds Bob there lifeless. Blocking himself out and not letting himself openly admit things didn’t prepare him any more for the loss of love than if he had accepted it sooner. No matter if he had negative views on it, his love was everything he had.

And I also headcanon Stevo as aromantic because of his whole fucked up view on love his entire life anyways. I think him being arospec explains a lot as well, and explains his “weirdly abnormal” love and attachment to Bob. I think him saying in the movie that he didn’t know if he was gay or asexual or whatever had to do with him being confused on his feelings about Bob because, yeah, surely that would throw him through a rabbit hole of confusion, huh? Especially around that time definitely. 

I think the bottling of his emotions was also just not working as intended. He was wearing a poorly made mask and everyone could see the bits of him leaking out from behind it, and no one was better than Bob, of course. He had it in his head that he was keeping it cool, that he didn't care and showed that he didn’t care, and he was failing so hard in my eyes. It all just came out in a fiery anger until the end.

I believe that part of things was doomed from the very beginning. Things could’ve maybe been different, yes, but I think a dull ache of something would’ve never gone away. Maybe Stevo feeling guilty for thinking he’s trapping Bob to stay by his side while he’d rather do other things and be with better people, like Trish for example. I feel like so many things and possibilities went on in Stevo’s head and still do. It’s so much accumulated together that he doesn’t know what to do with it all, so it’s better to kind of say nothing, because he doesn’t know what the right thing is. He doesn’t want to fuck anything up more than it’s fucked up to begin with from the whole beginning.

I think he kind of grew bitter, too. His whole thing of Bob saying Stevo’s depressed and him denying it, then Trish saying Stevo had a big heart. And he says “I have a heart the size of a pea.” I feel like that sums a lot up. He was trying to not feel the pain of the end closing in, he wanted to detach himself from anything good that could’ve possibly come of anything at all. Even if he accepted the love he had in front of him, it was a bit too late by that point for saving. So he separated himself from any emotion at all, and especially whatever love he had. Because Stevo is nothing if not filled with love and the desire to do the right thing. 

He was only fooling himself saying he didn't care and his heart was too small for love, and I'm sure he never really convinced himself either. He absolutely was hiding even from himself. He was so scared and confused that he just crumbled up into a ball that was a poorly made mask that even he believed to be pathetic and inevitably useless. He didn’t know what else to do, he didn’t want to turn to anyone because, fuck, people had enough of their own shit, didn’t they? What would it all matter if it wasn’t going to matter in the end anyways (under the belief the world was going to end and that the future was just a myth)? 

Despite sewing himself shut, the finding of Bob's dead body ripped those seams open. It's like the floodgates opened and all hell broke loose. That was just the size of it, the crashing of the final acceptance that the love was there and now it was really gone, and he’d never get it back, and he would never be able to tell Bob that he loved him too. The separation didn’t help, it, in fact, made the whole situation worse. It’s really the whole thing of “if only I had known.”

I believe Trish saw Stevo more than Bob in this state, or at least she saw it first, and then Bob saw it, too. She cared because Bob cared and Bob didn’t really know that much about caring about someone else either, did he? And Stevo grew bitter because he was lost, so that’s why he got so angry. He was lost for words and lost for direction, and he was blaming himself for not coming to this conclusion sooner. He failed the system, he failed Bob, he failed himself. He was so broken by it that it turned him bitter and hateful and into a shell of a mask that could’ve been ripped off easily, but wasn’t possible for the circumstances. 

People could see something was wrong, but all the people around him, besides Bob and I’d argue Trish, were too caught up in hating everything and everyone and betting on the world ending to care enough to make any attempts. Bob and Trish took him to that final party because they saw through it and knew he needed help, which Brandy was so perfect for. 

I can see Trish talking Stevo up, because she sees him how Bob sees him obviously, and I think she does genuinely see Stevo as a good person. Trish talking up Stevo to Brandy and Brandy to Stevo, trying to make something magical happen in the wrong place and wrong time. Because, yeah, obviously Trish would say only the nicest things about Stevo and put lightly the fucked up situation. 

But only hearing about the positives about a person, having a wonderful night that confirms these things, and then that same night watch as the ugly parts of his life comes out so quickly could be why she switched up so quickly, she had no warning, nothing told her his life was this bad. Saying someone is doing rough is just words, but seeing it with your own eyes changes things, and I don't think she was the kind of person to handle that at the time. Brandy seeing this messy part of Stevo ooze in the same night she met him, seeing the two sides of the coin that is Stevo, is definitely a lot to take in and consider when she wasn’t prepared for that. Coming from the family she does, it would make that she would’ve not ever seen anything like this, and not seen how messy and fucked up things can get, especially with her whole view on the punk scene and Stevo’s lifestyle choices up until that point. She kind of shattered his world in the same way she opened new doors. I view her more as that one person who changed his life and he was just another face in the crowd to her.

It felt like it was just a show of how even when he was doing better, he couldn't hide the things and fears he pushed off to be in the position to feel better. Bob was a representation of his biggest fears that night showing him that it's always going to sneak up and bite him in the ass if he just avoids it, even if the mask feels so normal that he believes himself that things are okay.

I also think it doesn’t make sense in the slightest that Stevo ended up marrying Brandy, I feel like that was a sole night to get his spirits up, despite how good she was for him in the grand scheme of things, in retrospect. He wasn’t ready for her at all, not in the way he needed to be with everything else going on and how damaged he’d become from the crash and burn. But so he lied to himself anyways, until he couldn’t anymore and was faced with the awful truth that he knew was going to ruin him anyway before he put the mask on.

It was like Brandy was only interested in Stevo when things were good in the bigger picture, but when things got a little messy, it was all lost. Even if one good thing happened for Stevo, that doesn’t erase the rest of the things that are fucking him up at every opportunity. Despite the paint on the rust, none of it was glamorous in the slightest. Deep down in Stevo, there was something rotting there and it was his unfaced fears. The tragedy of the calm before the storm, it’s like the thunderstorms as a warning for a hurricane coming in. It’s knowing this thing is coming and not knowing yet when, and it drives you nuts. Even though he wanted to just have it done with, to have it behind him, he also wanted to do anything he could to prevent it. He has the push and pull within himself too, some kind of haphazardness of indecisiveness. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Maybe years down the line he would eventually go back to SLC when he was ready and just so happened to see Brandy again, they could catch up and then something healthier that they are both ready for could bloom. Maybe when Stevo had done some major healing as well, but no chance they ever could’ve made it in the circumstances he was under the night of the party. The circumstances were more so of them both being young and lost and just grasping at anything good they could get, even if only for a night. 

But I don't see Stevo ever looking back on that place. Maybe to possibly visit Bob’s grave, but nothing other than that. Because of his trauma attached to SLC, he’d want to leave it in the dust. This is just an if of if he even made it out of there. Because once he lost Bob, maybe he felt like that made SLC his home now, because that’s where Bob would forever be now.

[shrinkthisviolet]

I would love to hear your thoughts on the Johnny / Daniel conflict over Daniel stopping the fight! Personally, I think Johnny is wrong on multiple levels. If he really thought the best way for Tory to work through her grief was to fight it out, I disagree but different people have different coping mechanisms, but he shouldn't have offered Sam up as a way to do it. Even if Johnny was completely ignoring Sam's well-being and was willing to put her in danger, Tory just apologized and was forgiven. How would she feel if she hurt sam all over again because she was fighting over-emotionally? If Johnny really thought she needed to fight, he should have offered to spar with her.

But also, I think he's wrong about her reasoning on wanting to fight in the first place. To me, it didn't seem like she wanted to hit someone or unleash her anger or work through her feelings. It seemed like she had a very specific goal of becoming the girls' team captain. Sometimes, when you go through intense grief instead of working through it, you want to distract yourself by doing something productive. Her goal was to win the tournament for her mom. To do that, she needed to be captain. That's why she wanted to win, and she wanted to do it by fighting because she wanted to honor her mom by proving she's "a fighter." Because Daniel and Amanda are well-adjusted people, they probably could have helped her through it in the moment, but Johnny undermining Daniel reinforced what Kreese said to Tory by implying that he was playing favorites, causing her to storm off. She literally says the same thing to Amanda that Kreese says to her, that "when push comes to shove you're always gonna choose her over me" and it's after Johnny implies that Daniel is playing favorites. Johnny essentially pushed her back to Kreese by making her think no one else would prioritize her, and all because he projected his personal issues (from when he was a grown adult, and that got him sent to jail) onto a teenager he's never really seemed to care about before now.

This is also the first scene I can think of where Tory and Daniel interact, and i wish we could have gotten more. She's had great moments with Amanda and some more with Sam after she apologized. It would be nice for her to complete the circle and have a nice interaction with Daniel. I think Daniel has the most to teach Tory when it comes to karate and balance, so it would be nice if he actually got to do that, lol. I heard that Peyton said in an interview that Daniel was right to stop the fight, and I hope it does actually get explored in part 2.

Love this take! You’re absolutely right. Johnny was wrong to want to continue the fight—Tory hadn't fully processed her mom’s death, hadn't eaten or slept in 24 hours, hadn’t even been hugged or supported in any way. That’s not the time to jump into a fight...and that’s how everyone ends up hurt (and yep, if Tory had hurt Sam in that state, that would’ve just compounded her grief and made her feel guilty on top of it). So glad Peyton agrees!

And YEP—Tory wanted to continue that fight specifically, to become captain and fight in the tournament. Johnny missed that (and so did at least a handful of fans). Daniel and Amanda were right there to support her, and Robby could’ve too, but as you said, Johnny reinforced “oh you’re playing favorites” (reinforcing Kreese’s words…even tho that wasn’t Johnny’s intention, it was still the wrong time to say that regardless. Read the room, Johnny, ffs) and killed any progress that could've been made*. The fight could’ve been postponed for a day (or at least half a day) until she got rest, food, and support—it didn’t have to happen right then and there.

*none of them should’ve let her walk off, and I’m pissed that they did, but they could've gotten somewhere with Tory to begin with if Johnny hadn’t interjected needlessly and had just TRUSTED DANIEL AND AMANDA

(Plus, Johnny comparing losing his mom at 30 to Tory losing hers at 17-18 felt weird to me. Loss is loss and hurts regardless of age, but people deal with it differently, and age is absolutely a factor in that)

Tory and Daniel have so many parallels, especially in s5...I was absolutely looking forward to them interacting this season. Alas...it was just for this, and Daniel never gets to bring up that he lost a parent as a child too—he KNOWS what that feels like and how much it hurts (and he lost another in Mr. Miyagi, but that was as an adult, so the actuation isn't quite the same).

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

🎵 Hope in Work and Joy in Leisure

5. [Composure - Legendary 14] Assess his body language.

+1 More than poor health. +2 Odd flower behaviour.

COMPOSURE [Legendary: Success] - What strikes you about this gaunt man is not the stomach pain, or the cough, or the malnutrition. For a man who's spent 44 years hidden in the urban wild...

He is surprisingly okay.

COMPOSURE - Indeed. He speaks fluidly, his movements are rapid, if erratic. His voice, despite the cough, is there. It is capable of expressing complicated ideas. Above all, he seems *animated*.

+5 XP

Level up!

I put this point into Pain Threshold.

Animated? By what?

COMPOSURE - It's a mystery. This animation comes at a cost too: erratic hand gestures, thought processes cut off like threads, as he just stares at the logs or the reeds. He also suffers mood swings, bubbling to the surface, unconstrained by his nervous system.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] - Great leaps of emotion: from anger to grief, despair...

Dementia?

Wouldn't a foul temper be a by-product of his life?

COMPOSURE - You've seen demented people before. This feels similar, yet different. When his thoughts move they are lucid, keen even -- not senile.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] - Is it some kind of substance damage? Like he's addicted to something -- not only the painkillers he's clearly on.

Dementia?

Wouldn't a foul temper be a by-product of his life?

"Mr. Dros, are you on some kind of a psychoactive substance?"

"Mr. Dros, are you okay? How is your memory?" (Finish the examination.)

EMPATHY - Perhaps. But his seems more than that. The inner turmoil takes unexpected turns, as if forced on him in a way...

COMPOSURE - In summary, you sense some underlying neurological disorder.

3. "Mr. Dros, are you on some kind of a psychoactive substance?"

THE DESERTER - "No!" he snaps out of staring through you. "I won't be stuffed full of shit like the rest of this city."

KIM KITSURAGI - "You said you take painkillers..." The lieutenant follows your lead.

THE DESERTER - "I take them to cope with pain. The people of this city use painkillers, because they have *pain*. Untreated illnesses, not enough money for a greedy doctor."

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] - He is indeed very lucid at times..

COMPOSURE - It's not a downer. Rather an upper, judging by his snaps.

4. "Are you on amphetamines?"

THE DESERTER - "Like some kind of decadent rock star?" He doesn't dignify it with more of an answer.

5. "Mr. Dros, are you okay? How is your memory?" (Finish the examination.)

THE DESERTER - "No I'm not *okay*..." He waves his hand, chasing something that's not there. "I shit blood and I'm surrounded by insane people..."

COMPOSURE - There it is again -- erratic hand motions. Bouts of rage. And the stomach thing too of course...

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Could it be a symptom of overdosing on something? Something even you have not tried? Keep your eyes peeled.

There's only one thing left to say.

5. "Iosef Lilianovich Dros, you're under arrest for the murder of the Krenel colonel here in Martinaise."

Iosef curls up and begins to rock back and forth.

THE DESERTER - "What?!" The old man's eyes fill with sudden, unexpected terror at the words: "But you said I would be taken to the..."

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - This terror is the sum of all the uncontrollable movements and mood swings he's been exhibiting.

SHIVERS [Medium: Success] - The wind picks up. The silence on the water is broken all around you, little shivers of waves appear. The lieutenant continues, like an incantation...

KIM KITSURAGI - "Your Wayfarer rights have been suspended. Information provided to the officers on the scene will be used against you by the prosecution. You will be given legal counsel within one week, and must face court in 44 days -- do you understand?"

THE DESERTER - "..."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Do you understand?"

THE DESERTER - "But..."

"Kim, he's afraid..."

"Do you understand, sir?"

THE DESERTER - "No, I don't want to! I have to stay here." He looks at the reeds, eyes submerged in growing terror.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Medium: Success] - He's sweating. Beads are forming on his forehead.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] - Pupils are dilated too, eyes getting blacker and blacker.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Your confirmation is not required, sir." The lieutenant turns to you. "Now -- on to the boat..."

First say: "Does it have room for *three*?"

[Perception (Hearing) - Legendary 14] Wait...

KIM KITSURAGI - "Not really." He shakes his head. "We could escort him to the pier, then either one of us can take him inland while the other stays here, but..."

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - But then -- who watches him, while you're coming back here?

"Who watches him there while I come back for you?"

"This is not a problem."

KIM KITSURAGI - "You come back for me? How about I go and send a boat back for you."

THE DESERTER - "What is this... farce?" He looks around, with strange desperation. "This a fucking farce, I can't..."

INLAND EMPIRE [Formidable: Success] - Something is happening. Stop.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] - Lilienne. You could ask her maybe?

2. "Maybe I can just ask Lilienne to watch him?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "This is no harmless old man." The lieutenant shakes his head.

THE DESERTER - "This fucking world..." He stares at something -- who knows what -- in the dust. "This world... what is this?"

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] - Below the confusion and rage -- a fit of jamais vu, like yours? The thought passes, more pressing matters take its place...

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Medium: Success] - No, listen! Listen now!

3. "*You* could come back for me. Once you've taken him to the Precinct." 4. "*I* could come back for you. Once I've taken him to the Precinct." 5. [Perception (Hearing) - Legendary 14] Wait...

+1 Inland Empire warned.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Legendary: Failure] - You thought you heard something, but it's just the reeds...

KIM KITSURAGI - "Maybe we could all fit in there..." the lieutenant says.

"We could all fit in the little boat?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Actually, no..." He scratches his head.

4. "*You* could come back for me. Once you've taken him to the Precinct."

KIM KITSURAGI - "No, no, it would take a whole day on this island. You go and transport the prisoner, I'll be here. I can escort him to the pier with you."

"No need to be polite, I'll do it."

"Maybe you're right…"

THE DESERTER - "This world..." The old man interferes again. "What are you *talking* about? Is this..." His voice drowns out in a sudden gush of wind. "Us..."

VISUAL CALCULUS [Medium: Success] - The wind is cold. From the east.

SHIVERS [Easy: Success] - Your skin is crawling suddenly.

🎵 La Revacholiere

INSULINDIAN PHASMID - A delicate tangle of arms and legs unfolds from the reeds, limb by limb -- to then just stand there, moving its scythe-like arms in ghostly silence.

Blink.

"What is THAT!?!" (Point to it.)

INSULINDIAN PHASMID - It's still there -- an unfolding mechanism of reed-like chitin. Hovering in place.

"What is THAT!?!" (Point to it.)

THE DESERTER - "What are you talking about?" The old man looks at the reeds, then at you.

"The giant stick insect!"

"I don't know what the hell that is..."

THE DESERTER - "There's nothing there." He looks confused.

INSULINDIAN PHASMID - The stick insect is over three metres tall. It looks straight at you with its tiny pinprick eyes and its grotesquely small head.

HALF LIGHT [Easy: Success] - You feel your legs shaking under you and your gun hand move to your holster -- to grab the gun...

"There IS! I see it!"

"I've finally gone insane…" (Put your head in your hands.)

THE DESERTER - "Tell me what you see, dammit, I can't make out one small thing in the reeds..."

"Kim, can *you* see it?!"

"I've finally gone insane..." (Put your head in your hands.)

KIM KITSURAGI - You feel the lieutenant's hand on your back. And then you hear him say four words:

"I can see it."

VOLITION [Easy: Success] - Thank god. If he can see, then you're not insane.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] - But that means...

INSULINDIAN PHASMID - It's really there. Spinning slowly -- in absolute silence -- its limbs long and slender.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Be very, *very* careful," the lieutenant whispers, then takes a step toward the giant arthropod...

New task: Inspect the phasmid

It's gotten dark out. I equip the torch.

INSULINDIAN PHASMID - The creature stands on long stilt-like legs, antennae hanging from its head like a woman's hair -- white and curled at the tips. It is no more than five steps away from you.

SUGGESTION [Medium: Success] - The segmented antennae move with apprehension, searching for something that's not there...

INSULINDIAN PHASMID - Reed-like tufts stick out of its joints. As the insect moves its forearms it produces a faint hiss -- like a reel-to-reel machine spinning after the tape breaks.

(Whisper.) "This is the Insulindian phasmid."

(Say something to it, quietly... something like...)

[Electrochemistry - Medium 10] Approach carefully.

Retreat slowly. [Leave.]

KIM KITSURAGI - "It is," the lieutenant whispers behind you. You hear the familiar ring of his jacket unzipping -- slowly. Painstakingly so...

You glance over your shoulder. The lieutenant holds a piece of milled aluminium. He begins to pull it open, extremely carefully -- it's the camera!

SAVOIR FAIRE [Medium: Success] - No! The flash will scare the creature off! Warn him NOW!

"Kim..." (Whisper.) "The flash is loud. It won't like that."

(Whisper) "Are you sure you won't scare it off?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "We *need* a photo -- no one will believe us." He continues to pull the lens open...

INSULINDIAN PHASMID - From the corner of your eye, you see a sudden cascade of motion ripple through the phasmid's limbs. A series of ultrasonic clicks fills your ear...

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] - I am not palatable. Do not eat me. I am afraid.

"Okay, take the picture."

"It's afraid. Stop *now*."

KIM KITSURAGI - "I won't be one of those fools who didn't take a picture..." He has stopped fiddling with the camera, but does not put it down.

AUTHORITY [Medium: Success] - He's letting his pride get in the way.

INSULINDIAN PHASMID - You see the phasmid turn to him, its mandible antennae reaching out. The motions are quick, sudden.

(Whisper) "Who cares what they *think* Kim."

"Just listen to me!"

KIM KITSURAGI - He comes to, abruptly. "Understood. Of course," he says with a nod.

INSULINDIAN PHASMID - The spindly mechanism turns itself back to you, its antennae taking their measure of the air, slowly...

+5 XP

2. (Say something to it, quietly... something like...)

INSULINDIAN PHASMID - ...

[darlincollins]

thinking about the deeply unhealthy ways darlin and sam process anger and how they actually complement what the other needs pretty well but also share habits they both need to work on breaking!

darlin becomes their anger- they're a very physically communicative person in general and anger is their shield against the world. anger keeps darlin moving because they find grief unproductive and don't want to stop because stopping means thinking and they want to ACT. they're unwilling to let go of their anger because what would replace it? anger keeps them from having to look into the future and consider what happens next. i think they "process" anger by getting it out physically, but they're only willing to do this on a surface level rather than address core angers or traumas or explore why they feel the need to do this. this can cause displaced anger or snappishness because they'll often feel "bad" but lack the emotional vocabulary to understand why. they need the anger to keep going because it's the only thing keeping them from collapsing in grief.

sam buries his anger- he's supposed to be the calm and levelheaded one, not the angry one, so he can be gruff and sarcastic but not actually angry, because that's not what his "role" is. his anger feels very impotent because so much of what causes it is out of his reach or control, and it needs to take a backseat because there are all these Other Things he needs to be taking care of instead. anger hibernates in his body and becomes bitterness and resentment that wears him down until he's exhausted from the weight of it but still can't set it down because where would it go? he's lived this way for a very long time and is out of practice with engaging with the world any other way. sam "processes" his anger by pushing through it so he can come up with logical plans of action but he never actually gets back to letting himself express it meaningfully.

both of them would rather self isolate and stew than feel anger in a productive way that lets them move on because they're very stubborn and justice-driven people and can't let things go when they're wrong because that's not how things should be. this easily corrodes into an attachment to their grievances and to their anger, even if they don't recognize it- they don't know how to play the 'roles' they've been assigned or given themselves without that sense of having been wronged and its accompanying anger. it's part of them and they don't know how to exist without it. they could easily feed into each other like this, two damaged and betrayed people licking their wounds and creating a cynical "us against the world" mentality where they uphold the validity of each other's rage and even encourage it by commiserating without offering constructive help.

conversely, their own unhealthy ways of processing anger can also push the other to explore a better way of handling these emotions. darlin needs to separate their sense of identity from their anger and not act with it as their guide- sam helps them slow down and process situations from a more thoughtful lens and gives them distance from rage. action for action's sake doesn't really solve your problems, it just keeps you from confronting them, and sam reminds them that sometimes you have to just take a moment to feel before you can really move forward.

sam needs to take control of his life and become an active participant in the world again- darlin helps him get out of his head and focus on what he can do in the moment to improve his situation. at a certain point introspection is no longer helping you and they get him out of that shell-shock mourning of what he's lost, reminding him that life keeps moving forward, he is still a part of it, and he still has a lot, he just needs to stop thinking and take the leap forward.

both of them have justifiable reasons to be cynical and angry but the entire theme of their relationship is realizing that you can't build a life on revenge or resentment, and that the world and the people around you have a lot more to offer if you let yourself accept it!

[obaex]

the one that chases you (two) - rafe cameron

summary: you adjust to life back on figure 8 and realize how much you missed it and how much someone there missed you

word count: 2k

series masterlist

You slept fitfully, tossing and turning and weren't surprised when you found yourself lying in your bed watching the sun rise through bloodshot eyes. What was the first stage of grief? Denial? You were well passed that. There was no denying that JJ Maybank had no interest in holding down a relationship with you long term and was probably already circling in on his next hookup. The thought made you nauseous.

No, you were pretty sure you had successfully crossed into the next stage, anger. You regretted every moment that you spent wasted on him, pining over him. The things you had done with him, the way you had let him have your body after going on two 'dates' which consisted of hanging out at The Wreck with all of his friends. You were furious with him and with yourself. How could you be so naïve? How could you let him fool you like that?

Your anger pushed you out of bed as you began opening the drawers of your dresser, pulling out his t-shirts, hats, bandanas, and pictures of the two of you together, throwing them in a carboard box in the corner of your room, eager to erase his memory. That did little to quell that storm raging in your body; you looked down to see your hands shaking. You needed to blow off some steam. Your eyes landed on your nike running shoes. You used to run all the time, but had blown it off to hang out on the cut, indulging in weed, beer and whatever fried food Kie could scrounge up from The Wreck to share. You changed quickly, pulling on your sneakers and grabbing your airpods before thinking about it further.

You stretched half-heartedly in your driveway, pulling up your favorite playlist and then you let your feet carry you down your normal path, pounding the pavement, sending shockwaves up your calves and quads, arms pumping at your side. You were sprinting before long, trying to release the anger and frantic energy inside of you, craving the tightness in your legs and the burning in your lungs. No way you were going to make it more than a mile at this speed, but you didn't care. The pain felt good, both punishing and rewarding. Around the one mile mark, you had to stop, keening over, hands on your knees to catch your breath. You were sorely out of shape and you were sure your diet of bud light and fruit rollups over the last month wasn't helping anything.

You were bent over, taking heaving inhales and exhales when another figure ran by you at a lightning pace. You looked up quickly enough to see Rafe Cameron on a run of his own in a cutoff tank top, athletic shorts and his own pair of airpods. He acknowledged you with a brief wave and a smile as he rounded the block ahead of you. You didn't even have time to wave back as you struggled to catch your breath, your mind suddenly racing with the memories of the two of you running together almost every morning, matching each other's pace, taunting one another, racing each other. That had stopped when you started hanging out on the cut. JJ had made it clear that Rafe wasn't someone he wanted you spending time with.

Part of you wanted to run and catch up with Rafe, to explain what had happened, to apologize. But at the same time, he had just run right by you, he didn't seem phased. Not to mention, your legs were shot and there was no way you were catching up to him now. You turned around and walk-jogged back to your house.

When you got home you made yourself a protein shake, your body eagerly soaking up the first healthy nutrients you had fed it in months. You slid into the shower, letting the hot water soak your skin and indulging in the expensive beauty products that had been untouched for weeks, since you had nearly lived at the chateau where the boys only had three-in-one shampoo, conditioner and body wash. Which, upon further review, was extremely sus.

You spent the day at the beach with Sarah, soaking in the heat of the early summer sun. You could tell she was torn, wanting to spend time with you, while also wanting to spend time with John B and his friends. You had no desire to go back to the chateau, but you didn't want to make your situation her problem so that night she went to hang out with them without you, bringing the box of JJ's stuff with her as you stayed home alone. And honestly, the solitude wasn't the worst thing in the world. You made yourself dinner with the fresh ingredients your parents kept at home; you had been chugging water all day following your run and you had the first tanlines of the season. You felt good. It was like the haze was parting on the last six months of your life and you were finally getting back to who you were.

The next morning as you laced up your sneakers for your run, you could feel how sore your legs were. This was going to be brutal. You stretched out as best you could and then began to jog, trying to maintain a more reasonable pace than yesterday. You had slowly found your rhythm, your legs and lungs screaming in protest as you passed the one-mile mark and pushed forward.

"Y/L/N!" you heard someone shout, turning to see Rafe running up to you. He slowed his pace to match yours as you paused your music.

"Cameron" you acknowledged.

"It's been a while" he said, a statement that hung in the air like a question: Where have you been? Why did you leave?

"Aw, Cameron, you missed me!" you teased.

"Missed the look on your face every time I outran you."

"Nice try" you said, reaching out and shoving him with one hand as you both laughed. You continued in silence for a while, your breathing clearly more labored than his.

"You don't have to slow down to keep pace with me" you conceded.

"Eh, it's technically my rest day, I can afford to go easy" he said.

You glanced up at him, catching him smiling at you before returning focus to his run.

So began a daily routine, up early for runs with Rafe in the morning, days spent soaking in the sun and enjoying life back on Figure 8. You noticed the physical effect this was having on you: your morning runs and healthier diet had you leaner, days spent in the sun chugging water instead of napping all day and drinking beer had given you a deep tan and cleared your skin.

When you were hanging with the pogues it felt like a constant bash-fest for everything on this side of the island. Sure, Figure 8 had it's issues and assholes, but if you were honest you missed the comforts of this life, your plump mattress, the fully stocked refrigerator, air conditioning and showers that always ran hot. What surprised you most of all was how much you had missed Rafe. You had always been good friends; you felt like you knew a side of him that he didn't share with other people. You had relished that. But you had dropped it all the minute JJ said he didn't like Rafe and didn't want you hanging out with him. You didn't even question it, not wanting to strain your new relationship. You let Rafe's text messages and phone calls go unanswered until they slowed and stopped as he was resigned to your silence.

All of this was playing on an endless loop in your head on your run the following morning when Rafe interrupted you, taking in the scowl on your face.

"I can hear the gears turning in your head from here, what's on your mind?" he asked.

You slowed your pace to a stop, putting a hand on his arm to slow him down with you.

"Rafe, I owe you an apology. I am so sorry for how I acted. I can't believe I just ignored you like that" you said, running the back of your hand over your sweaty brow. "It's no excuse at all, I'm my own person, but JJ just had this hold on me. He had a way of eclipsing every part of my life and he didn't want me hanging out with you anymore. He made me promise."

"He what?" Rafe's tone surprised you.

"You know how it is. Kooks hate the Pogues, Pogues hate the Kooks and you are the poster child for this side of the island. He said we couldn't be together if I was friends with the 'King Kook'. I-I didn't know what to do, but I chose him over you. And I regret it. Seriously, I'm sorry."

Rafe was pacing back and forth with his hands on his head. A look of confusion, frustration, sadness and latent anger on his face. You could see a tic in his jaw as he worked it back and forth, thinking about how to respond.

"Please say something" you said, your mind whirling.

You didn't have JJ anymore, you were constantly having to share your best friend, you didn't want to lose Rafe too. As your adrenaline began to crash from your run and the feeling of anxiety over the abandonment you'd felt over the last few weeks caught up to you, you felt your eyes begin to water and you began to take deep breaths to prevent the tears from spilling over.

Rafe clocked the shift in your breathing and when he looked at you and saw tears in your eyes, it felt like a vice on his heart.

"Hey, hey" he said, "None of that, c’mere" as he wrapped you in his arms in a strong hug. Your skin stuck together, slick from the sweat of your run. The feeling of your warm body against his slowed his heartbeat. The feeling of his arms around you slowed yours.

"Are you mad at me?” you asked, your voice muffled against his chest.

"Honesty? I was, for a long time. I just didn't understand what I did wrong."

"You didn't do anything wrong!"

"Yeah, I know that now. If I would have known then that Maybank was behind all of this I would have caved his face in."

"Rafe!"

"Still might.”

"Rafe!" you said, louder this time, pulling yourself from his arms to shove him away playfully.

"Can you blame me?" he said, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "We went from spending nearly every day together to complete silence overnight. I-I wasn't ok Y/N."

"I had no idea, Rafe. Sarah didn't say anything."

"Sarah didn't know, no one did. You know I don't let a lot of people in, least of all my sister. I don't deal well with people leaving like that, you know with my mom and everything..." he trailed off and started pacing again, chewing his thumb nervously, avoiding eye contact with you.

Realization struck you and suddenly you couldn't believe you had been so selfish. You had never stopped to consider how your absence would affect him. Your heart squeezed as you watched him before putting your arms around him again.

"I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

He slowly put his arms around you, sinking into your hold. "You promise?"

"I promise."

JJ was sitting up in bed, head pounding with the beginning of the day's hangover as he glanced at the naked girl beside him before reaching for his phone. He tapped through the insta stories from the night before before landing on one that had just been posted that grabbed his attention.

He whipped his phone across the room in anger and it bounced against the cardboard box of his belongings in the corner.

part three series masterlist

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

I think my biggest issue with the live action atla is how all the issues the characters had were so... individualistic? They were issues primarily connected to their own self or disagreements with family members, and mainly conquered through finding their own power and learning badass bending and being a prodigy who learns things all by themselves.

I'm not sure how to phrase this properly but in the original, each character was influenced by the world they grew up in. Aang's denial, rage and occasional selfishness stems from him being an outsider to this world - he's a kid from 100 years ago with fresh grief from an event long past, no understanding of what living through war is like, and the weight of everything on his shoulders. Katara's anger and mothering comes from being cut off from her culture, having to step up and be her mother, and being treated as inferior to the men for being a woman. Sokka's sexism is a young boy's limited understanding of the role that men and women play in his tribe, and his consistent feelings of failure to live up to expectations or contribute to the group is a result of, again, having to grow up to take the position of leader far too quickly; trying to be his father. Everything about Toph is a pushback against the way she was smothered and restricted - the way the world makes assumptions about her because of her blindness. And for all that Zuko has daddy issues and whatnot, the core of his character is actually him wrestling with his upbringing, what it means to lead and serve a people, and questioning the nationalistic propaganda that was a fact of life for not just him, but everyone in the Fire Nation.

Atla is essentially one big road trip story. The detours are important, because it's on these that the cast find the limitations of their worldviews both broadened and challenged - and it's through others that their development occurs for the most part. Sure, they become stronger power-wise too - but that's not what actually resolves their internal issues. Their flaws are a product of their natures meeting their environments, so it's only by being in new environments and learning from the new people they meet that they grow, change, and adapt - all things that are absolutely pivotal for the cast to impact the world in turn in the way they all eventually wind up doing.

And I don't know, I just felt that wasn't there in the live action. Shades of it, sure, but, like I said, it was very self-contained, and didn't feel like a product of the world they grew up in. And the solution was usually just. Talk a few things over. Learn a cool new skill - without a master? You... you need a master, because bending is a martial art, not a superpower. No one in Avatar is supposed to learn everything alone... that's the whole point, and why one nation cannot rule all of them - they are all necessary, and all have something of worth to teach to others. Anyways, it was weird idk idk...

Feel like I could've explained this a lot better but this is the gist. Hope it somewhat came across?

[mirandimoo]

once again thinking about how aki’s character is one of, if not the most tragic character i have come across in any media i have ever consumed in my life.

like guys you don’t understand, i’m not saying this from a ‘csm stan’ pov or anything i’m saying it from a literary standpoint AND as a media production major like yes objectively speaking he is the most tragic of tragic characters i have ever come across in any story. like from his childhood to his adult life it was all hell and trauma and after spending his whole life with nothing to dedicate himself to other than revenge, he finally found something worth protecting in denji and power so much so that the thing he spent his whole life chasing after suddenly didn’t matter because he had a little family now and that was enough for him. going through all of this only to then become the very thing you feared the worst and to be taken out by the hands of the person you cared for the most in the world. afterwards there’s no one to properly mourn you, aside from the one who took your life. everyone else is gone and the guy you cared so deeply for that you were willing to give up your life’s mission to protect has to now navigate the world with your blood on his hands, forever stained by the regret of not only killing you, but never even getting to say a proper goodbye. he’s had so much thrown onto him now that he doesn’t have time to properly grieve you and power. but no, for him your death is even worse than hers in retrospect. because there’s still a small glimmer of hope, no matter how faint, that some day she’ll come back. and that hope is so important to hold on tightly to, it’s enough of a reason to keep moving forward, to keep living. but you… oh you. for you there is no coming back. no second chances, no glimmer of hope for a happy ending. just pain. just death, anger, and so much pain. so instead of grieving properly and moving on, he’ll forever be stuck in this limbo of self hate, grief, and guilt that’ll end up with him just hurting himself physically and mentally over and over and over again. sort of how you acted in your own life... it’s kind of ironic is it not? that even in death all you do is hurt those you love, and not only fail to protect them, but deal them a fate even worse by actively being the reason they hurt. a fate worse than death it seems. and although when told it, you didn’t want to believe it, you honestly did die in the worst possible way imaginable.

[gojonanami]

a couple of days(weeks?) ago, i saw an ask about curse!suguru au and it really got me thinking.

how would a curse!suguru work? to what extent would curse!suguru be suguru?

i assume that curse!suguru would be created through intense grief and love. but this also got me thinking: is curse!suguru a separate entity from suguru? do they—on some level—share the same soul? is it entirely an invention of suguru's lover? does it function the way rika does, but more powerfully and perhaps more sensibly, considering this is a twenty-seven-year-old man we're talking about and not an eleven-year-old girl?

and would curse!suguru exist concurrently with suguru's body? and so, would kenjaku still get to suguru's body? and so, would curse!suguru witness his body being violated? that would make curse!suguru mad—beyond mad.

and what would suguru's lover think of all of this? cursing suguru—her other half—turning him into a curse, one that's at her beck and call.

that’s so interesting — I want to say the curse can exist separate from the body — since I assume that’s what happened with rika 🤔

oh curse! suguru would be made through grief, love, and anger — I would say curse! suguru would be a product of both him and reader! so I would say he can operate independently — but probably would attach himself to reader.

oh my god, kenjaku would enrage curse! geto especially when seeing him hurt reader or gojo or anyone else he cared about

reader would be so upset — she would be torn between trying to set him free while selfishly hanging onto this vestige of suguru that she has left. but I would guess curse! suguru wouldn’t be able disappear until his body was at peace as well as reader letting him go 🥹🥹🥹

….I have to write this

[afewproblems]

Here is a Ballet Dancer!Steve/Fruity Four Dancer AU - courtesy of @magpiemuseum and this post! Thank you for sending this! I adore this idea!!

I’ll diverge from it slightly and suggest that Steve and Nancy met through ballet.

They dance together, are often partnered with one another in productions, they work well with one another and start dating fairly quickly, it works. Steve loves Nancy, and she seems to care about him deeply as well. But after Will and Barb go missing and only Will comes home, well…

Nancy just doesn’t have the heart to stick with it after that.

So she moves into jazz to express some of that anger and grief. Karen is disappointed in her daughter, that she didn't stick with it the way Karen did but she isn't going to be like her own mother, not again, so she agrees. Nancy has a knack for it, picking up the movements and techniques quickly, just like everything she does, it's with fiery, furious determination.

Steve keeps going with ballet, he's only allowed to because his teachers insist he's good enough to get a free ride to any school once he graduates. His father begrudgingly agrees but never attends another production after Steve turns 15. They don't talk about it.

The multiple concussions over the years eventually begin to affect his performance, the fight with Jonathan, the plate with Billy, the one lift another dancer in their company attempted as a joke during break that ended with Steve having to go to urgent care for stitches. Just his luck.

Now, he can't even handle one rotation in a pirouette without having to sit down until the spots in his vision go away.

He keeps at it, practicing, avoiding spins as much as possible, but since this won't enable him to get into college and his grades are slipping with the absenses and lack of interest, his father finally has the opportunity to tell him its over.

Steve starts at Scoops the day after graduation.

He meets Robin, it's not an immediate spark which is fine by Steve, he's still mourning the loss of his company and all the friends he had made along the way, the wonderful instructors he met over the years. Robin ignores him for the most part until she catches him in the back room one day, humming along to a Madonna song on the mall speaker system as he easily jumps through a pas de chat across the small space.

She interrogates him about this, but it's not as though he ever hid his ability, it's just not something he ever did through school. He had swimming for that.

She studies him for a moment before launching into a quick tap solo as Tiffany's, I Think We're Alone Now, plays softly in the background.

Steve claps with the biggest grin on his face as Robin shyly explains how she's been taking tap for years, in between band practice and the drama club, she hopes it will help her get to Julliard eventually.

It's better after that.

And after the Russians and the awful truth-serum makes its way out of their system, they sit in the bathroom stalls of Star Court. Steve tells her he's never felt like this with almost anyone else, and Robin closes her eyes.

She tells him about Tammy Thompson, and about Nancy Wheeler who she's seen in passing after tap, aggressively dancing in the small studio in Indianapolis her mother takes her to. She tells him that she'd always been jealous of how they'd look at him, how they would never look at her that way, and how it crushed her.

And Steve gets it. He slides under the stall to sit with her, and his heart hurts as he sees her tense up in front of him, he can't have that.

Steve bites his lip as he softly tells her about the guy in their company, the one who had tried the lift with him, you know, as a joke. The one Steve had tried to kiss the day before, not as a joke.

Danny had insisted it was fine, he wasn't interested in Steve like that, but they could still be friends and it didn't have to be weird.

And then he dropped him the next day. You know, accidentally, as a joke.

Robin grabs his hand at this and squeezes it tightly.

He tells her Tammy Thompson sounds like a Muppet so maybe they both have terrible taste.

They don't talk about Nancy. Not quite yet.

After Star Court burns down they are inseparable, two halves of the same heart, platonic soulmates Robin will say in the same breath as she calls him dingus.

He loves it.

They start at Family Video together, complain about Keith and his aggressive annoyance with Steve, but the job is easy enough and actually pays a dollar above minimum wage so Steve tries not to complain too too much. They dance in the break-room, Robin tries to show him some simple tap sequences while Steve corrects her positions. It's harder for Steve to nail down the foot rhythm, but the movements are easy enough. Robin is a little stiff, but she manages to eventually mimic the positions enough to satisfy Steve.

But if course it couldn't last.

Vecna nearly tears apart the world, he succeeds with tearing apart Hawkins and the Upside Down monstes rear their ugly flower faces once again. They meet Eddie, Hopper comes back from the dead, they close the gates, and Steve carries Eddie out of the depths of hell without bleeding out.

Max dies, or nearly dies, the explanation goes over his head as they sit in the waiting room of the hospital after Steve is finally stitched and bandaged up.

They all make it.

It's a long road to recovery, especially for Max with the extensive damage to her eyes and legs, but eventually she walks again, now with a cane which she uses to catch Mike in the ankles every chance she gets, so it helps.

Mike has no idea how she always knows it's him, it's baffling.

It's harder for Steve to move now with the build-up of scar tissue on his sides, it isn't until he cries out in pain after trying a simple jete that he grieves yet another loss.

He stops dancing after that.

Steve tries to be happy for Robin and Nancy, who finally, finally, start dating. Jonathan seems to understand, but his grief has always been quiet. Argyle helps, the two of them are seen together more often than not in the wake of Jon and Nancy's breakup. Steve knows exactly how it feels not to have someone to lean on in the aftermath of Nancy Wheeler. He's happy for them, or he tries to be.

He wishes he had that.

Steve still see's Robin, they are soulmates after all, but it isnt quite the same anymore. Nancy seems to have taken up the mantel of the other half of Robin's heart, and Steve?

It's fine. He's fine.

He starts spending a lot of time with Eddie. They commiserate about the kids and their attitude, Steve tells Eddie more about the Upside Down and how he  got roped into it all.

The topic of dance comes up as an accident.

Eddie makes a comment about college and the future which prompts Steve to snort. It isn't as though he has any options anymore, he can't continue with ballet, he barely had the grades to graduate, he's going nowhere fast.

Eddie looks at him, his face surprised at first, whether by the information or by the dejected tone of Steve's voice.

He tells him about his own experience with dance, how after his uncle took him in that he found channeling his frenetic and nervous energy into contemporary dance.

Pouring his breath and emotions into the movements, it's always helped to slow his brain down from the constant mile-a-minute thoughts that used to over take him.

He tells Steve that despite the new scars that littler his torso, he's managed to keep up with the movements, that the practice seems to even help with the pain.

Steve is enraptured by the description, a small flicker of hope burns in his chest as he asks to see in a small voice.

Steve is immediately blinded by the 1000 watt smile Eddie gives him.

And oh.

Oh he's in trouble.

Eddie is beautiful when he dances, it's a fascinating departure from the precision of ballet and even the fast pace of tap that Robin has shown him. Eddie left his hair down so the curls sweep around him as he moves.

This is all storytelling and emotion, it's deliberate but free, and Steve can hardly breathe as Eddie finishes.

"So what's the verdict big boy?" Eddie pants as he pushes his wild curls out of his flushed face.

Fuck, and that image alone has Steve blushing as well.

Steve swallows roughly, "Think you could show me a thing or two Eds," he murmurs softly as Eddie laughs.

They spend the rest of the afternoon with Eddie correcting Steve's posture and positions, slowly directly his movement, and letting his hands linger on Steve.

He's still physically sore by the end of it, and he wants nothing more that a couple of tylenol and a long warm bath once he heads home for the night, but Eddie's smile and the memory of his hands and gentle patience leave Steve feeling warm and hopeful for the first time in a long time.

He doesn't have to give up something that had been such a large part of himself for so long.

He can still dance.

It feels like he can breath again.

Steve goes to sleep that night and dreams of dancing with Eddie.

And in this one, he doesn't drop him, not once.