BADLANDS → kellic

01. castle

a/n: hey hey new fic!!!! finally!! as u can probably tell its based off of the album badlands by halsey but u dont have to know/like her music to read this, it'll just provide more context for the ppl who do like her stuff. there will be 16 chapters, one for each song off of the album, and it'll all connect in one storyline (as opposed to a bunch of unrelated one shots). obviously its kellic and also it will feature nonbinary!kellin who will use they/them pronouns throughout the story :-)

also just a quick note: since this is literally based off of every song off of badlands, yes there will be sentences or phrases that will probably remind you of certain lyrics. i urge you not to comment "OMG IS THIS A HALSEY REFERENCE" on every single one of those because chances are, yes, yes it is

as for warnings (hoo boy there are a lot): alcohol, lots of drugs, several smut scenes, scenes of violence depicted (including one scene of self-harm which makes more sense in context trust me), themes of suicide and other issues involving mental illness, scenes of sexual harassment, and occasional usage of homophobic or transphobic slurs

But Yeah im honestly so excited about this fic, idk how often it'll be updated bc i'm still writing cataclysm but i thought i would get it up and running awhile!! pls enjoy!!!

—

In the city known as Badlands, there are few things more innocent than a twenty-year-old smoking a cigarette.

Sure, smoking is common everywhere, but Kellin imagines that there are also probably quite a few people in the world who don't smoke—or, even more unimaginable, people who have never smoked. But Kellin, like most Badlands residents, has lived here their whole life and knows nothing about the outside world, so they're really just guessing. They'd like to think, though, that if they lived somewhere else, at least one person would scold them for smoking, for destroying their lungs at such a young age. They'd like to think that, in another city, there are billboards for organizations aimed at reducing the percentage of teenagers who smoke or drink underage. But Kellin wouldn't know—they've never seen one.

This is where their mind goes one evening in late February. Really, all they're doing is smoking a cigarette on a lonely bench, next to a street with a few cars parked on each side but hardly any people around. It's the most relaxed they've felt in days, despite the moderately chilly air and the fact that they've got a bag of weed hidden underneath their tight-fitting shirt and slightly oversized leather jacket. But that's their own business, and the only other people who need to know about it are their clients.

In Badlands, the only rule is simple: Stay and obey. No one is allowed in or out. A giant wall surrounds the entire city with watchtowers placed at a ten-foot interval, and anyone who approaches it is killed on sight by security guards. Outside of the wall is nothing but desert for as far as the eye can see, but everyone knows that the rest of the world exists out there. Even if it weren't for the stories of people who have supposedly escaped Badlands, it's very easy for Kellin to look up "Los Angeles, CA" on Google Maps. It's there; it's all there. The problem is that they can't get to it.

One of the weirdest things about this place, in Kellin's opinion, is the fact that there's no information about it online. It doesn't show up on a GPS. Its presence is suspiciously absent from Google. If someone who made it out somehow were to post an article titled "How to Escape Badlands," it'd be found and removed immediately because of the way that the internet is monitored. It's the kind of thing that leads a lot of residents to lose their grip on reality, because if it's not on the internet, then it doesn't exist, right?

The only crime besides trying to escape is questioning or rebelling against authority. That's why Kellin is permanently on the police's watch list: They used to dream of escape, and rebellion was their favorite hobby—until one night a couple years ago when they got caught with their boyfriend, Justin, painting an anti-government message on the interior wall of an abandoned building. The cops who found them killed Justin with no hesitation, and Kellin barely escaped with their life. Now they lay low, choking on their pride and dealing drugs in secret. Most other dealers are fairly open about their business, but Kellin tries not to be too public about anything. They know other dealers—their own mother included—have gotten arrested for rebellion against the government while the police claimed it was due to being a dealer. Everyone knows better than that, though; no drug is illegal in Badlands, and besides, half the time the police are on drugs, too.