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starryeyedjanai · 8 months

Text

you and me and a lot of bad decisions

steddie | explicit | 8k | chapter 1: 1994 - i'm only human

read on ao3

written for @thefreakandthehair's summer challenge!

Steve swears he doesn't know how he ends up in these situations.

One minute, he's applying sunscreen to Eddie's back like a good friend, and the next, they've got their hands down each other's pants, breathing harsh breaths and groaning as they get each other off.

It's true that maybe Steve has been a little pent up for a while. He hasn't had much luck dating recently, and working as a guidance counselor is stressful. He's had a tough school year and even after it ended, there was no outlet for him to pour any of his anxious energy into. Robin was still working because "not everyone gets the entire summer off, Steve!"

All of his friends still have to work and he's disillusioned about trying to date someone new after his honestly awful track record.

Last summer, he dated a woman and she was nice and tried to get along with Robin, but Steve knew she didn't understand their relationship, didn't get that she was someone who would always be in Steve's life, regardless of if he has a partner or not. So things got ugly in the end, because she threw out an ultimatum that Steve readily answered - just not in the way she wanted.

So, he's hesitant to try again because most people won't get it, won't get that Steve and Robin are a package deal, do-not-separate, kind of thing.

So between all of his friends still working and not being remotely interested in dating, he's been a little lonely.

He's been cooped up in his apartment being antisocial because this school year has taken so much out of him that he feels like he could sleep for a month.

The one thing he had to look forward to was this vacation.

The sun, his friends, no obligations for an entire week? It sounded like heaven.

And it starts off fine enough. Their hotel is nice, has a nice pool area that opens up to a private beach.

They all get in around the same time, so they make their way to their rooms to drop their stuff off. They're all sharing rooms because it makes more sense to split the cost rather than everyone getting their own room.

He's sharing with Eddie because while he would normally share with Robin, she and Nancy have finally got their shit together and started dating after putting everyone through the misery of watching them awkwardly flirt for years now.

He and Eddie are friends - he thinks. Kind of. After everything, they have so much tying them together that they kind of have to be. They share all the same friends, they live in the same city now and grab drinks together with Robin and Nancy, they spend holidays together with everyone.

While it's true that they're kind of friends, he can admit that he's a little nervous to have so much time alone with Eddie because they just don't normally hang out alone.

He, Eddie, Robin, Nancy, and Jeff were all on the same flight, but Eddie and Jeff took a separate cab to the hotel since there wasn't enough room in the other one. Steve's cab driver was apparently taking the scenic route because he gets to the hotel room and Eddie is already inside, pulling his shirt over his head, getting ready for the pool, it seems.

"Hey, man," Steve says, dragging his suitcase inside. Eddie's already claimed the bed by the window, so Steve drops his sunglasses onto the other bed and grabs the suitcase stand from the closet.

"Hey, man," Eddie parrots back.

Steve opens his suitcase and starts pulling some of his clothes out to put in the drawers.

"Oh, fuck, Steve, tell me you're not one of those people who unpacks on a vacation," Eddie says, watching him open up the empty dresser drawer.

It's rhetorical, Steve knows, but he still answers, "And what's so wrong with that?"

Eddie just shakes his head and says, "You would be the type to make even vacations harder on yourself."

Steve rolls his eyes. "How am I making things harder on myself? What do you do? Just leave your stuff in your suitcase and dig through it everyday to find what you need? How is that easier?"

"It's less work than making sure all your clothes are perfectly folded and in the drawers," he says pointedly.

And- okay. Steve hadn't even realized he was re-folding the shirt in his hands, but he just likes when things are tidy and neat. What's the harm in wanting his stuff to be tidy?

He stuffs the rest of the shirts into the drawer and closes it.

"Are you going to the pool?" he asks, changing the subject.

Eddie grins over at him, gesturing to the swim trunks in his hands. "Very astute, Mr. Harrington."

He drops trou and Steve takes maybe a second too long to look away. He just wasn't expecting to see Eddie's dick so early on in this trip. Not- not that he was expecting to see it at all, you know? Just, he wasn't expecting it.

"Mind if I join you?" he asks, grabbing the trunks from his suitcase. He grabs the rest of his shorts and underwear from the suitcase and puts it in a drawer - he's not going to let Eddie teasing him stop him.

"Sure, the more the merrier. You know what room Nancy and Rob are in?"

"Ah, yep. Or, well, I know they're on the eighth floor, not sure the exact room number. I told them I'd meet them in the lobby before dinner, so that'd give us enough time to unpack and get settled."

He hears Eddie rumble about unpacking on vacation as he steps into the bathroom to change into his trunks. He makes quick work of it before peeking around the bathroom. This hotel is nice, much nicer than last year's disaster. He thinks Robin working at one of the sister properties back in Chicago is probably why they were able to get such a good deal.

He steps out of the bathroom and puts his travel-day clothes back in his suitcase. He rubs sunscreen on his face and shoulders and thinks about calling it a day. He doesn't really need to put it everywhere, right? It's just gonna wash off when they get in the pool anyway.

"Hey, you wanna help me put this on my back before we get down there?" Eddie asks, holding out the sunscreen bottle in his hand.

Eddie doesn't seem to have the same skepticism about putting sunscreen all over, Steve notes as he looks him over - his arms and legs have that sunscreen sheen to them.

He must not say anything for a beat too long because Eddie asks again, impatiently, "Can you get my back or not? Time's ticking, we're wasting daylight."

"Oh, sure, sorry," Steve says, shaking his head, taking the sunscreen from him. He pours some in his hand and steps closer as Eddie turns his back to him.

He looks at the wide expanse of pale skin on his back for a second before he slaps the handful of sunscreen in the center of Eddie's back and Eddie arches away from him for a second.

"That's so cold!" he says as Steve spreads the sunscreen down his back and Steve snorts.

He maybe grabbed a little bit too much because it takes a long while to rub it in. He rubs harder, trying to make the white-cast disappear.

He hears Eddie groan and he pauses. Did he hurt him?

"Sorry," Eddie says when he realizes Steve's frozen behind him. "That just, that felt good."

"This?" Steve asks, digging his palms in harder. He doesn't know why it makes his heart speed up when Eddie hums in agreement.

It's just- it's been a while, since he touched anyone like this. There's so much skin on display, so much pale skin beneath his fingers. He can't help but dig his thumbs in a little as he rubs, turning this into something closer to a massage than spreading sunscreen. The white liquid has all but disappeared, but Steve keeps rubbing, keeps digging his fingertips into the muscles of Eddie's back.

He can't even say how long they stand there, Steve's hands on Eddie, working his thumbs into the muscles there, listening to him sigh and groan at his touch. He rubs up and down on his back and he listens to the little sounds Eddie makes when he hits a good spot and it- fuck. He realizes this is making him hard.

Now the speed of his heart beating makes sense. He's turned on. He's getting hard from putting his hands on Eddie. All this warm skin, the noises he's pulling from him, it's all doing it for him.

"Everything good back there?" Eddie asks, pulling Steve out of his stupor. His hands were frozen on Eddie's back. The air in the hotel room is cool on his skin, but he still feels overheated in the moment.

He realizes he needs to answer, needs Eddie to stay turned around because when he looks down, he's visibly hard in his swim shorts - they're tight, the fabric pulled tight around his cock, leaving very little room for interpretation on what's going on here.

"I'm good, just stay there for a sec?" He takes a couple steps back, his hands falling away from Eddie's skin, leaving him cold in comparison to the way the warmth just seems to be rolling off Eddie's skin.

Of course Eddie doesn't listen. He never listens.

He turns around as Steve is backing up, a thousand thoughts floating through his brain, the number one thought being am I into Eddie?

He swallows hard as Eddie looks at him, sees the moment Eddie notices. His lips curl up, cocky, and he's looking directly at Steve's crotch.

"Oh? Big boy, indeed," he says, and Steve can't even find it in him to roll his eyes because Eddie can't tear his eyes away.

Steve's never shied away from someone looking at him - he likes the attention, likes having eyes on him like this. When Eddie looks back up at his face, Steve sees the hunger there, knows he's wanted.

And he's never been good at making decisions that don't bite him in the ass, so he steps forward, closer to Eddie again.

It's a bad idea, his brain is telling him.

But he's looking at Eddie's mouth and his chest and his tattoos and his goddamned pierced nipples.

Fucking friends is a bad idea, his brain is shouting at him.

But he's stepping closer anyway, feeling the heat seeping from Eddie's skin once more. He wants to touch him. He wants to put his hands on him again. It feels like all the air has rushed out of his lungs, like he can't breathe through the want.

He doesn't know how to make the first move here, where he's so incredibly unprepared for what's about to happen, but luckily he doesn't have to.

Eddie hooks his first two fingers in the waistband of Steve's shorts and pulls him forward, gets their hips aligned, nearly pressing together.

He looks at Eddie's face and realizes how close they are, leaning in towards each other like this.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks and Steve knows he should back away, knows he should laugh it off, make some joke about accidentally getting hard from touching him.

But Eddie's fingers are still dipped into his waistband and Steve is sweating about it. His brain is short circuiting because five minutes ago he was utterly unaware that he was into Eddie like this.

He had no idea that he wanted to feel his skin against his like this, feel the skin of their chests brush.

Eddie's chest is sunscreen-sticky and Steve wants to get stuck to him.

When they're pressed together, flush from chest to waist, Steve feels him, really feels him. He's hard too. Hard from Steve touching him, maybe, or from knowing Steve wants him. Either way, feeling his cock brushing his through only a couple layers of thin fabric is making Steve's scalp prickle like a shiver wants to run it's way down his back.

"Yeah," Steve whispers, shifting his hips forward minutely and biting back the groan that wants to escape.

Their thighs slot together and he takes in a shaky breath. Looks from Eddie's lips to the metal glinting on his chest. He knows it had to have hurt. Did Eddie like it- the hurt?

He knows his face has to be flushed by now. He feels sweaty and red and somehow Eddie's still looking at him like he wants to eat him. It's really doing it for him.

Eddie takes his fingers out of Steve's waistband and Steve doesn't even get a second to mourn the skin to skin contact there because Eddie is cupping Steve's dick through his shorts.

It's such a tease, just Eddie's hand cupping him, no real pressure. Steve pushes himself forward into Eddie's hand.

Eddie lips twitch up again into a smirk, like he's having fun with this, like he likes teasing Steve, getting him a little desperate.

Steve tries to hitch his hips forward again, but Eddie moves his hand back to Steve's hip, herds him backwards until he's backed up against the dresser.

"Is this okay?" Eddie asks, tugging at the waistband. Steve's not exactly sure where this is going, what Eddie wants from him right now, but he nods. If it gets him touched, he wants it.

Eddie grins at him and shoves his hand down into Steve's swim shorts and wraps his hand around Steve's cock. It's suddenly a lot all at once.

Eddie's hand is warm, but his rings are cold to the touch. He's never had someone touch him while wearing rings before. It's not something he's ever had to consider before, whether he's like the feeling.

He does. There's something about the texture difference between the smooth, hard surface of the rings and the softness of Eddie's palm. His fingertips, when he rubs the head of Steve's cock with his thumb, when he wraps his hand around the length of him and strokes, feel rougher than the rest of his hand, callused from years of playing the guitar, Steve guesses.

He drops his head back and groans at the feeling of Eddie stroking him.

The rings are a contrast to Eddie's warm skin, and every stroke is making Steve want to come on them, get them wet with it. It's dizzying, making Steve a little crazy, thinking about coming on Eddie's rings. That's never been a thought that crossed his mind before, but he can't get it out of his head now that it's there.

Eddie strokes him from root to tip, slow and measured, and the only thing Steve can do is sigh about it, bringing his hand up to Eddie's hip.

He looks at where his hand rests on Eddie's hip. Steve's been sunbathing, for lack of anything better to do, recently. His skin is tan and golden and Eddie's skin is so pale in comparison.

This is all so much. And they've barely done anything at all.

"You wanna touch me?" Eddie asks, pulling him out of his thoughts, and Steve nods. He wants to touch him so fucking bad.

He can feel Eddie's breath on his lips, they're so close. He wants to lean in and put his tongue in Eddie's mouth, sloppy and wet the way Eddie's thumb feels on the head of his cock.

He shoves his hand down Eddie's swim shorts instead. They're tight too, like his, so his hand barely has space to move.

But he feels him, gets his hand around him, and he's- he feels big. His cock fills out his grip nicely, it's thick, a good length.

He breathes out a heavy breath as he strokes Eddie's cock. The tip is already wet, pre-come pearling there, getting Steve's hand all sticky when he rubs his palm over it on the next upstroke.

Eddie moans, sharp and sudden, when Steve's thumb catches on the underside of the head of his cock, and then it's like all bets are off. Whatever perceived notion of taking it slow has faded, quickly.

Their hands are moving fast on each other's cocks, grips tightening, like they're in a race to the finish. Like who can hold off the longest?

And Steve still wants to kiss him, almost feels like he has to. He doesn't want to stand here in the middle of their hotel room and touch Eddie, be touched by him, and not know what his mouth feels like against his.

But it feels like it would be a step too far. Like it would snap Eddie out of it, Steve pressing his mouth against his, trying to push this into something it isn't.

Their mouths are close, they're already sharing the same breath, practically. It would be just a hair of a movement that would get their mouths slotted together for real- he wouldn't even have to move much. It still feels too far a space to cross.

Eddie makes the decision not to kiss him even easier when he dips his head to bite at the juncture of Steve's neck.

"Don't leave any marks," he says, breathless. He can't show up to dinner with hickeys on his neck.

"I won't," Eddie says, licking at the spot he bit.

Steve feels close already and it feels too soon. It feels like they just started and Steve is tensing up, ready to come.

Eddie pulls his mouth away from his neck and Steve whines.

"Just," Eddie says, ducking back down to press his mouth quick against his neck again, his breath warm and damp on his skin. He presses a kiss there and it feels more intimate than the situation allows. "We just- I only have two bathing suits and I can't get come on one of them the first fucking day."

Steve nods. Anything, anything- he'll do anything to get Eddie's mouth back on his skin, his hand back on his cock.

He feels like he knows what's coming, and he sucks in a deep breath, at the thought of them pushing their shorts down, at the thought of them rubbing their bare cocks together. He wants it. He wants it more than he's wanted anything in a long time.

He shoves Eddie's shorts down and lets Eddie do the same to him. He looks down and groans. Fuck.

Eddie's cock is red and wet and Steve wants it in his fucking mouth, wants to lap at the wet head, taste his pre-come. He wants Eddie to come in his mouth, wants to roll it around on his tongue.

But Eddie's wrapping a fist around both of them, his hips thrusting forward like he can't stay still and that's good enough. That's more than enough to have Steve riding close to the edge again - feeling Eddie's cock snug against his own in the grip of his hand.

Their foreheads are pressed against each other as they look down at their cocks sliding together in Eddie's fist. It's like he can't look away - it's captivating, the rough slide of them together in Eddie's palm.

He puts one hand on Eddie's neck, the other hand back on Eddie's hip, pulls at him like he can drag him closer even though they're already as close as they can get.

"Fuck. Can't believe the rumors about your dick were true," Eddie whispers, his gaze still glued to their cocks.

"There were rumors about my dick?" Steve asks, switching between looking at their cocks and looking at Eddie looking at their cocks. The feeling swirling in his stomach is so much, and he's so goddamn close.

"Mhm," Eddie hums. "Prettiest dick in Hawkins."

That makes Steve groan, his hand tightening on Eddie's hip.

"Oh yeah?" Eddie asks. "You like being called pretty? Like knowing people are talking about how pretty your dick is?"

He doesn't know why that's what does it for him, but he's coming, just rocking his hips forward, squeezing the hand that's on Eddie's hip until it's probably bruising, and coming all over Eddie's cock. He looks down again, watches it get all over and that makes him twitch even harder. He didn't know that was a thing for him - any of this.

But watching his come get everywhere, all over Eddie's hand and his rings and his cock makes Steve shiver with the sheer amount of possession it strikes in him. He likes his come marking Eddie's skin. He likes Eddie not stopping even for a second, just stroking Steve through it and trying to get himself off with his come-slick hand at the same time.

The sound of Eddie's hand still going, so wet with Steve's come, is obscene in the quiet of the hotel room.

It makes Steve want to get on his knees. He wants to drop down and put his mouth on Eddie, taste his own come on Eddie's cock, lick at it until the taste of salt is gone, keep going until Eddie's filling his mouth with his own salty come.

But he's still catching his breath, still trying to reckon with all of this, when Eddie gasps this perfect little ah sound and comes, getting his fist even slicker. Steve's straddling the edge of overstimulation as Eddie's hand tightens to work himself through it, his grip turning the pleasant aftershocks sharper, meaner.

As Eddie comes down and loosens his grip, Steve brings his hand up to Eddie's chest and touches the metal going through his nipple. It's warm. His skin under Steve's fingertips is so warm. He tugs at it, pulling a groan from Eddie's mouth.

His cock twitches where it lays, still touching Eddie's, still messy with both of their come. It's way too soon to be thinking about more, to be thinking about again, to be seriously considering getting on his knees to clean Eddie up, maybe keep him warm in his mouth until he gets hard again.

He lowers his hand back to Eddie's waist, moves to rest his head on Eddie's shoulder, and closes his eyes.

"Fuck," Steve whispers into the quiet of the room after a minute, only the faint hum of the air conditioning reminding him where they are.

"Mhm," Eddie agrees.

"We just-" Steve cuts himself off, because he still can't quite believe it.

"Mhm," Eddie hums again.

"And it was-"

"It sure was," Eddie says, his clean hand stroking down Steve's back. It's comforting and grounding, having Eddie's still touching him like that, knowing that Eddie's not going anywhere right now.

The room is actually pretty cold, so having Eddie's warm hand running up and down his back is soothing. It makes him shiver just as much as the cool air on his hot skin.

They have to clean up soon or the come will dry uncomfortably in his pubes, but he takes another minute to bask in it. Because in a minute he has to evaluate whatever the fuck just happened. He'll have to look Eddie in the eyes and figure out what the hell this was and how to move forward from it.

He's known Eddie for over eight years now, and nothing like this has ever happened before - Steve's never wanted anything to happen. He had never even considered him an option before.

It's true that they aren't the closest of the bunch - they never really got the chance to get close because Eddie left Hawkins pretty quick after he recovered from the bat bites. He was out in San Francisco and then LA for a couple years, so he and Steve didn't really get the chance to get to know each other.

They'd talk on the phone sometimes to catch up because they were beginning to become friends before he left, before everyone kind of split up. With Steve following Robin to Chicago and Eddie in California, they only ever really saw each other for the holidays at the end of the year, which wasn't exactly enough to foster a deep friendship for them.

It's only recently that Eddie and his band moved out to Chicago, maybe a year or so after Nancy did.

So they've hung out more this past year than they had in the past, but it was still mostly hanging out with their group of friends rather than them hanging out one on one. They'd sometimes go to the bar after work together to de-stress, but unless everyone else was busy, they were rarely alone together.

He thinks he would know if he was secretly into him, is the thing.

He obviously knows Eddie's attractive - the same way he knows his other friends are attractive - but that's never translated into wanting to stick his hands down his pants. Until now.

Something about the ambiance, the liminal space of a hotel room, being all alone with his hands all over Eddie's back- something about that flipped a switch in his brain.

Because standing here, panting into Eddie's shoulder and coming down from an orgasm he was wholly unprepared for, he still wants.

He wants to push Eddie down onto one of the beds in here and grind on him until they come again. He wants to feel Eddie's cock against him again, in him, maybe.

When they pull apart, he doesn't know how they're going to handle this.

There's still so much want running through his body that he's sure Eddie can tell, can see it on his face.

They make their way to the bathroom to clean up and Eddie helps him, dabbing a washcloth across Steve's sticky stomach like it isn't something totally domestic. The warmth in Steve's stomach isn't arousal right now, watching Eddie take care of him like this - it's ooey gooey squishy feelings that Steve is sure didn't exist an hour ago.

He doesn't know how this happened so suddenly, the onset of these feelings, the rubbing off against each other like they've done it before, like they've mastered the art of dry humping against each other until they're desperate with it, breathing heavy against each other's mouths, lips never quite touching.

But Steve lets Eddie clean him up, lets him dab a wet washcloth over the head of his soft cock, lets him tuck him back into his shorts, like this all isn't tugging at his heartstrings, making him feel something he can't quite name yet.

They don't say anything in the bathroom, but when they walk back out into the bedroom, Eddie grabs his sunglasses and asks, "We still goin' to the pool?" kind of like nothing happened between them at all.

Steve blinks at him.

"Yeah, yeah. Uh, lemme grab a towel," he says before grabbing the beach towel he packed.

They walk down to the pool and Steve claims a couple of chairs while Eddie dives straight in.

It's fine.

The way the water glistens off Eddie's skin when he resurfaces makes Steve think about putting his tongue on him to lap up the wetness.

But it's fine.

The way the sunlight glints off Eddie's nipple piercing makes Steve want to touch it, pull at it again, see what noises he can get Eddie to make.

But everything is fine.

The way Eddie looks at him with hooded eyes like he knows exactly what Steve is thinking about makes Steve a little dizzy with the want that washes over him.

But it's probably fine.

Right?

They head back inside after a while of Steve being utterly unable to take his eyes off Eddie in the pool, and Steve knows he's in trouble.

Eddie calls first shower and Steve sits there with his head in his hands for the better part of Eddie's ten minute shower.

How does he get himself into these situations?

He hates not knowing what to expect, wishes he had a manual for what to say and do right after you hook up with your friend.

He doesn't know how to be normal about this the way Eddie seems to be able to. It feels like Eddie is somehow accustomed to hooking up with his friends and Steve doesn't know what to do with that. He doesn't know how to handle any of this.

Does Eddie do this a lot? Does he have friends back home that he hooks up with? Does it just mean nothing to him? The way he's able to just walk it off and appear totally normal is grating at something in Steve. He wishes he could be normal about this.

He's spiraling and he doesn't really know what to do.

When Eddie walks out of the bathroom, Steve tries not to stare, but he's only human. It was bad enough at the pool, but he's sure Eddie is teasing him on purpose now, towel hanging loosely off his hips, water still dripping down his chest, his skin pink and soft looking.

Steve holds back the groan of frustration and slips into the bathroom to shower before they meet the others for dinner.

Unlike Eddie, Steve took his clothes into the bathroom, so he changes in there instead of walking out into the room in just his towel like a harlot.

Robin eyes him suspiciously all throughout dinner, like she can somehow tell he was up to no good, but doesn't know exactly how yet. She always seems to know when something's up with him, but he doesn't think he has the words to say anything about this to her right now, or at all while they're still on vacation. He doesn't even know if he'll have the words when they get back home, because he knows she's going to want to know what's going on with him.

Robin's somehow even more suspicious the next day.

They're late to the lobby the next morning to get breakfast with the others because Eddie slips into Steve's bed as he's swatting at the alarm on the nightstand.

He turns around and Eddie is right there, right up in his space, saying, "You wanna?" and placing a hand on Steve's chest.

And Steve does want to.

So they do.

Steve is still groggy from sleep, but he still pulls Eddie on top of him, he still presses his mouth against Eddie's neck, awake enough to remember to not leave marks there. It's slow and sleepy and he comes in his underwear less than a minute after Eddie does, fingers playing with one of Eddie's nipple rings, his other hand on Eddie's ass, urging him closer, closer, closer.

It's good and Steve still doesn't know how to come to terms with that. How is he supposed to go back to normal after knowing how good it can be with Eddie?

They're late because they spend a few more minutes in bed after they both come, breathing heavily into each other's necks. One of Steve's hands is still on Eddie's nipple, thumbing at the piercing - he's pretty sure that's a thing for Eddie, having it played with. And it definitely is a thing for Steve. He almost wants to go again, wants to put his mouth on Eddie's nipples and grind against him until they're hard again, until they're making even more of a mess.

They're late because after they brush their teeth together in the bathroom, Eddie presses him against the counter and puts his mouth on his neck. He puts his hand on Steve again, circles his fingers around his soft cock and strokes his thumb over it softly, gently. He plays with him for long enough for Steve to start to get hard again.

He's inching his hand down to where he feels Eddie starting to get hard again too. He's curling his fingers around the shape of him, wanting.

They only pull apart because the phone rings - the front desk calling because Robin and the others are tired of waiting for them.

They rush to get changed and they make it downstairs and Steve tries to act normal.

The skin of his neck is sensitive and red from Eddie's facial hair, which is now a whole 'nother thing that Steve can no longer think about without getting turned on apparently. Because now he knows what his mouth feels like against his skin, what the scruff on his face feels like against him.

So Robin knows something is up - either because she and Steve know each other so fucking well, it's obvious to her, or because Steve's not doing anything to try and conceal that he's making what are probably really bad decisions.

On the third day is when she finally says something to him about it and he was right- he just doesn't have the words to say anything about it, mostly because he has no idea what he's doing.

She says something because he's not being normal right now.

Because Eddie refuses to eat his ice cream cone like a normal human being.

He makes eye contact with Steve as he licks his ice cream like he wishes he was licking something else. It makes Steve's cock throb, which is unfortunate considering the entire group is together.

"Why are you looking at him like that?" Robin asks him with wide eyes when Eddie is briefly distracted and talking to Grant.

"Looking at who like what?" Steve asks, cursing the fact that Robin knows him so well, that they share a telepathic bond most days.

And- okay, maybe he wasn't being subtle. He can't help it. Eddie's doing it on purpose, lounging like that, looking like that, all spread out and -

"You're doing it again, dingus." Robin's looking at him with judging eyes when he tears his eyes away.

Steve lets out an exasperated noise. "I'm not looking at anyone like anything, Robbie."

She clenches her jaw and gives him an unimpressed look.

"I'll tell you later? Like when we get home," he says sheepishly, hoping he'll actually be able to. Because right now, he has no idea what he'd even say. We just happened to fall into bed together. Oh, actually, that was after we accidentally jerked each other off. How can he explain that?

Robin looks back and forth between him and Eddie a few times before she nods and says, "Okay, but you're telling me everything. And I mean everything."

Steve doubts she's going to want to hear all of the details of what he's been doing.

This is their last full day here and Steve is maybe having an internal crisis about it. Because he doesn't know what's going to happen once they get home.

He has a feeling he's going to be extremely awkward about it when they get home. He doesn't know if Eddie will want to continue doing whatever it is they're doing or if it'll stop. Because they haven't talked about it at all.

They've just been doing things without talking about it and that isn't really something Steve's dealt with before. Even when he's had hookups in the past, they've established boundaries, called it exactly what it was, and when they were done, that was it. He's never had a week-long extended hookup and he's especially never had one with a friend.

He thinks it's probably going to come and bite him in the ass, not talking about it. Because he's going to get home and all of his friends are going to go back to work and he's going to be left alone to freak out about it, probably.

They spend the last day walking the pier and hanging out on the beach and he tries not to let it show how much he's currently freaking out. He thinks he manages to make it seem like he's a normal human being thinking normal thoughts and not about to spiral.

That night, their last night at the hotel, Eddie pulls a bottle of lube and a couple condoms out of his suitcase and looks at Steve meaningfully.

"You brought lube and condoms?" Steve asks, scrunching his nose up. "Were you planning on fucking someone in our hotel room?"

The thought upsets him more than he wants to admit. He can't imagine coming back to the room and finding Eddie with someone else, someone he sought out and brought back because he wanted to fuck them.

They've had plenty of opportunities to hook up with other people, is the thing, considering they're in San Francisco, and have been going to bars - straight and gay bars - and have been meeting up and hanging out with Eddie and the band's old friends from when they lived out here.

He hadn't thought about it, but now he's thinking about Eddie hooking up with those people he met this week.

It's entirely possible that Eddie could have wanted to take one of them or one of the many people he flirted with back to their room. Why didn't he?

Eddie grins at him and says, "I mean, you never know what could happen on vacation. It's not like I was planning on fucking anyone with you in the room. I mean, probably."

"Only probably? Jesus christ, Eddie," he says, rolling his eyes. He's not going to be jealous about this. He's not. He knows from Eddie's tone that he's joking, mostly.

"I'm kidding. But like I said, anything can happen on vacation, man, as evidenced by everything we've been doing," he says, the first time he's mentioned this thing they've been doing. He lobs the bottle of lube at Steve, badly, but he manages to catch it anyway. "We don't have to use them, by the way. We can keep doing what we've been doing, if you want."

What have they been doing? He wants to ask, wants to know what's going on in Eddie's head, but he also doesn't want to rock the boat. He doesn't know exactly what Eddie thinks is happening, but if he says something, it feels like it would put an end to things early. If this is the last night he has of this, he doesn't want to turn Eddie off by trying to talk about it.

He looks at the condom in Eddie's hand and pauses to think about it. He doesn't think fucking would change anything between them given everything else they've gotten up to this vacation, but he doesn't really want to have to sit on a plane for four and a half hours and be uncomfortable for the entire flight tomorrow.

This is probably the last time they're going to hook up, at least while they're here on vacation so they should make the most of it and make use of the lube at least.

So he says, "I- we shouldn't. Um, there are other things we can do with the lube, though."

Eddie looks at him thoughtfully and drops the condom back in his suitcase. How he even managed to find anything in the explosion currently coming out of his suitcase is a miracle.

"I could fuck your thighs," Eddie says, and a jolt of heat runs through Steve's entire body.

"You could fuck my thighs," he agrees and then goes to grab a towel to lay down on the bed.

The cleaning staff came by while they were gone and remade the beds, so Steve pushes the covers down on his bed and lays the towel there.

He shucks his pants and underwear and pulls his shirt off quickly. Eddie watches him with dark eyes, pulling his own clothes off at the same time.

Steve gets on the bed, turning to lay on his side, facing away from Eddie. He feels Eddie get onto the bed behind him, but he still jolts when he puts a hand on his hip.

Eddie smooths his hand down Steve's side and fits himself along Steve's back.

Steve's already starting to chub up, feeling the hard press of Eddie's body against him. That's another thing he's going to have to reckon with when this vacation is over - Eddie's body is insane.

He never really thought about it before, never really noticed it before. Gone are the days of Eddie being a lanky little beanpole.

With the passing years, he's started going to the gym and his body has more muscle mass than it did before. He's still lanky, but there's muscle there. There's strength and lithe muscles that have had Steve drooling over him for the past week now that he knows just what that strength can do - Eddie lifting him up and placing him on the edge of the desk in their room on the second night here so he could go down on him left Steve feeling shaky and had him blowing his load way too soon.

Feeling Eddie behind him, the press of his half hard cock against his ass, is making Steve kind of regret saying no to getting fucked. It's been a while, and he just knows Eddie would fuck him so right.

He thinks it's the right decision, though - he doesn't know how much more knowledge of how Eddie is as a lover he can take. He doesn't know if he'd be able to survive knowing what Eddie cock feels like inside him, how well he stretches him out, because he knows he would. His cock is wide, fills out Steve's palm so fucking nicely, and feel big when he's taking him in his throat when he's blowing him, so he knows the stretch of it would feel insane.

He feels Eddie press a kiss to his neck before he hears the snick of the bottle of lube opening.

He feels like he should have said something about Eddie having lube this entire time when he saw what was in Eddie's hand a few minutes ago. Because they've been trading spitty hand jobs for days when they could have had the slippery glide of lube on their cocks instead.

Eddie says, "Lift your thigh up for a sec."

So Steve does, feeling a little vulnerable in this position. Maybe they should have done something else or done this a different way, one where he had more control of the situation. Right now, he feels a little bit like he's at Eddie's disposal, like Eddie could do whatever he wanted and Steve would let him.

Eddie reaches between his thighs to coat them in lube before coating his cock. He nudges up closer to Steve, so he's pressed up more firmly against him and Steve lowers his thigh when Eddie's cock slides between his thighs.

Eddie groans, low in his throat when Steve tightens his legs together to give Eddie a nice, tight channel to fuck into. Steve shivers at the sound.

His hand is still coated in lube, so when he reaches around to take Steve's cock in his hand, it's slick and wet with lube, the slide is so nice, exactly the way he does it alone - nice and slick and tight around his dick.

There's a moment of pause where they just breathe together, caught up in it, caught up in the feeling of it.

And then Eddie starts to move.

The drag of him between his thighs is a lot - it's the girth of him pressing against him, nudging up behind his balls on every thrust. He's thick and he feels good between Steve's thighs, would probably feel even better inside him.

He knows it's a little too late to stop and say something like you didn't happen to grab that condom anyway, did you? because he knows Eddie wouldn't - Steve said no, and he knows Eddie would respect that even if he did want to fuck him.

Having Eddie so close to fucking him - the motions are all the same, with Eddie's thrusting against him like he would be if he were really fucking him, his hand wrapped around his dick - but not having him inside him is kind of torture and he's eating his words from before. It might be the smart idea, but fuck if he doesn't want to do the wrong thing right now.

He wants to feel the stretch of him, his hole quivering around him as he bullies his way inside. He wants to feel how deep he'd reach inside him, pressing in slow and measured and considerate like Steve knows he would. He'd want him balls deep, hips pressed flushed against him.

He's gasping at the thought of Eddie inside him, can almost imagine what it would feel like. Eddie's hand around him feels so fucking good - after days of giving each other hand jobs, it's like he knows exactly what Steve likes, how hard to grip him, how and when to play with the head.

The slide of him between his thighs, the feeling of him pressing gentle kisses to his neck, his other arm around Steve like a hug - it's all so much to take in.

He feels wrapped up in him, surrounded by him.

He can feel Eddie's heartbeat against his back with how close and tight they're pressed together.

He comes suddenly in Eddie's hand, gasping, his own hands gripping the pillow beneath him, shuddering through it. Eddie strokes him through it, his slick hand milking the come from him.

It's not the most intense thing he's ever done in the bedroom by far, but this orgasm leaves him feeling wrung out and shaky because Eddie's hand doesn't stop stroking him after he crests through his orgasm, pulling whines from his mouth at the overstimulation.

"Eddie, it's too much," he says, his hand coming down to grab at Eddie's hand still wrapped around him.

"You sure? I could wring another one out of you," he says and Steve's cock leaks at that, still hard, just another glob of come seeping out from the tip. His eyes roll back at the sharp, intense feeling of Eddie's hand being too much on him.

"Fuck, I don't know if I have it in me," he says, voice shaky. Eddie's still hard between his thighs, still thrusting, catching the underside of his sensitive balls every stroke.

Eddie hums in his ear, says, "We'll have to try that another time then," and stops stroking, but keeps his hand on him, cupping him, as he speeds up his hips, chasing his own orgasm.

Steve clamps his thighs together tighter and reaches his arm back to grip Eddie's hair and pull.

Eddie groans, setting his teeth against Steve's shoulder and biting. The edge of pain makes Steve's cock twitch even as it softens in Eddie's hand.

It doesn't take long for Eddie to get there, his come painting the inside of Steve's thighs as he thrusts shallowly and rubs the head of his cock between his thighs.

As they come down, Steve feeling sticky all over somehow, he can't help but think of the way they've come to know each other. He thinks about how intimately they've come to know each other's bodies.

He feels like he knows more about Eddie's body and how to make him come than some people he's actually dated.

He thinks about how Eddie's had his hands and mouth all over Steve, near constantly when they've been alone for this entire week. And how Steve has reciprocated, of course. How his tongue has come to know the shape of Eddie's barbell nipple piercings. How he's come to know the taste of him, the weight of him in his mouth. How exactly he likes his cock to be sucked.

That's not knowledge he should know about someone who's supposed to be a friend, he thinks.

He shouldn't know that Eddie's voice gets gravelly and low when he's about to come. He shouldn't know what Eddie's dirty talk sounds like. He shouldn't know that Eddie still cracks awful jokes even as he's getting his dick sucked.

That all feels like forbidden knowledge, something that he shouldn't be privy to.

But he knows it now. And he isn't sure how he's going to be able to go back to normal once they get home.

taglist (people who've expressed interest in the wip games): @stobinesque @scarcrossdlvrs @cuoredimuschio @steves-strapcollection @patchworkgargoyle @delta-piscium @matchingbatbites @kkpwnall @inairbinad @legitcookie @sidekick-hero @eriquin

#steddie #stranger things #steve x eddie #steveddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #vacation escapades #it's finally here!!! coming in under the wire at 10:55pm on august 31 #the rest will be posted over the next couple of weeks as i finish editing it!!#lemme know if you want to be added to the taglist for the next part

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fluffysucker · 10 months

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5. The ways you say my name.

Bucky Barnes x Reader (AU)

A/N: Written in Third POV. No use of Y/N. However, the reader is referred to as a female.

I didn't specify anything about the reader's work/job, so it can fit everybody.

I hope you are enjoying the story so far. I'm so excited for you to read this chapter and the upcoming ones.

Likes, comments, reblogs are VERY VERY highly appreciated. Opinions really matter to me

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Days passed. And days turned into weeks, and weeks became months. Time moved. However, for you, it was moving so fast and yet so slowly.

Having the kids for five days a week all by yourself turned out to be a bigger challenge than you thought. There was always something that had to be done from the moment they woke up until they went to bed. You wondered how long the day was. It felt like two hours for you at most. Your appreciation for single mothers increases by the day.

Then came the weekends. And the house would be so quiet. No loud cartoons. No mess lying around. No school homework. No one is asking for stuff. No one shouts Mommy every five seconds. Your house was no longer home at the weekends. Time would move painfully slowly. Leaving you to yourself. You always tried to make plans with Natasha or Sharon. It didn't always work, leaving you with yet another downside of the split. Loneliness.

It made it a little easier knowing the kids counted the days until the end of the week so they could spend as much time with their dad as they could. Bucky was by no means an absent father. On weekdays, he would call at least twice a day and sometimes show up at the house to see them. The kids would be so happy.

You started to understand why so many people stayed in their marriage just for the kids. Their big smile alone was worth it.

However, this couldn't be the case for you and Bucky.

True to your words, you were great co-parents. Doing your duties to the fullest. When it came to kids, you and Bucky were doing it right. You were communicating well. Keeping the other updated and aware of anything regarding the kids. You had no problem showing up together for important school events, practices, or other kids' birthday parties. Theo's birthday was three weeks ago. You and Bucky planned it all without a minor inconvenience. And the party was amazing. You even let Bucky stay over that day upon Theo's request. In the guest room.

Because once the kids were not involved, you were strangers. Keeping the conversations light and small. Mainly checking the other's wellbeing.

Bucky was in awe of this. He was fully prepared when he showed up to pick the kids up the weekend following your confrontation to have you so cold and short towards him. And he deserved it.

Except you weren't. You were still the sweet and nice person you always were. Inviting him in and offering a drink. Asking about his plans for the weekend. It was like nothing ever happened.

He understood later. You were going to be the best version of yourself possible for Lily and Theo. They didn't deserve parents who couldn't be civilized. It's already hard enough on the six- and four-year-old's, so he followed in your footsteps. And you're doing great.

But sometimes he could see your act falling. Your eyes showing the truth. You were far from fine. You were still hurting from it all. You were begging for a cure for the pain. But never to him. Not anymore.

Bucky wasn't doing that well either. When he wasn't a father, who was he? He used to be your husband. Now he wasn't. And wasn't that what he wanted? To find out who he was when he wasn't yours.

The infamous fuckboy and successful businessman, but nobody believed he would be a family man. Was that what Bucky wanted? Absolutely not. It didn't sound right anymore.

Then what did he want? Why did he damage his life for uncertainty and unclarity?

This was why you always encouraged him to communicate his feelings and share his fears. Because look what happened when he didn't.

Bucky knew the way like the back of his hand. He used to pick you up so much back then. So much.

As Bucky was about to walk into your usual spot, he found you already leaving.

"Bucky. Hi." It never failed to amaze him how nice you were to him. Even when the kids weren't around.

"Everything is okay?" He shouldn't be surprised. You would only expect him to be here for something.

"Yes. I know the kids are spending the day at Becca's. I was wondering if it would be okay if I picked them up and had them over." Bucky was missing the kids extra this week. Maybe not just them.

"Of course. I have a meeting right now. I'll call you once it's over, and we can meet at the house to pick up their stuff." Bucky couldn't help but smile. Being a successful woman and an amazing mother was something you excelled at. It always filled him with pride and happiness.

Before he could say anything, a voice interrupted both of you.

"Ready to go, dear?" Standing behind you was what could only be described as a god of a man. More than 6'3" tall. Muscles unbelievably massive. Fluffy brown hair. Light blue eyes. Features perfectly sculptured. Along with a very expensive-looking suit complimenting him in all the right places. And a voice matching his vibe. Deep and strong.

To say the man was extremely handsome would barely be enough.

He came to stand behind you, resting his hand on the small of your back.

"Yes. Just a minute." You replied, looking comfortable with his presence and his touch.

"So it should be done by five; we can meet then?" You turned to Bucky to confirm your plan.

However, Bucky was staring at the stranger's hand, sliding to your waist, moving you smoothly and slightly so people passing wouldn't brush into you.

Who the hell was this guy?

He snapped out of it and nodded, ensuring it worked for him.

"I'm sorry, let me introduce you." You spoke

"This is our new business partner, Thor Odinson." A new guy then.

"Thor, this is James. My kids' father."

Bucky could swear he heard his heart break into pieces. Your words cut deeper than all his scars.

It was the first time you didn't introduce him as your husband. Bucky never thought it would hurt so much.

He was your man once. Now he is James.

He has no one else to blame.

Bucky swelled the pit in his chest and acknowledged the man standing with a simple nod, which Thor returned.

"Did you check everything?" You turned to Thor slightly, so now his hand was almost wrapped around your waist.

"Stop worrying, my dear. You will do great." Thor spoke softly to you.

Bucky was never one for self-control. The sight in front of him was pushing the limit. He could feel the heat rushing through his body. He hoped it wasn't clear on his face.

You walked away after promising to call him once you were done. You and Thor started talking, and he immediately noticed the man keeping you on the less busy side of the pavement, furthest away from cars.

Who the hell was this man? Why was he touching you like this? Why was he calling you pet names? Why was he doing everything Bucky was supposed to do? And why were you so comfortable with him?

"I mean. If he is just a business partner. Why so close?"

Bucky has been pacing around nonstop in Rebecca's living room since he arrived at her house.

"So let me get this straight." Rebecca finally spoke, fed up with her brother's tactics.

"You saw your ex-wife, who is single, with a hot man doing nothing more than being friendly." She recapped the story that had been eating him alive.

"You didn't see it." This was the only thing he could say to defend his crazy behavior.

"And she is working with him on the weekend. Why?. Aren't the weekdays enough?" Bucky tried so hard to keep it to himself when he showed up at your house, as you agreed. He almost felt the steam coming out of his ear like a cartoon character when you told him you would be busy this weekend, working on the new deal and working with Thor.

"Bucky.."

"I mean, what if he is a creep?. What if he is a serial killer?"

"Or what if he falls in love with her?" Bucky stopped abruptly in his place, looking at his sister.

"He is spending so much time with her. It won't take him long to see the wonderful person she is. So he will ask her out, and what will stop her from saying yes? Nothing." The vivid scenario Rebecca drew was actually Bucky's nightmare.

"Isn't that what you are really afraid of?" Rebecca looked at her brother with all seriousness.

"You realized she is in the market again. She is fair game. And suddenly, you're mad." Bucky looked like a kid who got caught eating candy after midnight.

"Well, let me tell you, Bucky, you are full of shit." Leave it to Rebecca Barnes to give her brother a piece of her mind.

"That woman isn't your toy. You can't choose to love her one day and leave her the next."

"I don't know what you were expecting, but she deserves to move on. To get back on her feet. And you don't even deserve to be jealous. You chose this." And she wasn't going to sugarcoat it.

"That woman was the best thing to have ever happened to you."

It was time for Bucky to have a reality check.

"Do you have any idea how much people warned her about you? Advised her against dating you? They told her you would only hurt her. That you would leave her once you got bored, like you did with every other woman. But she didn't care and chose you."

"She loved you with all her heart and even more. She stayed loyal and kind to you. And what did you do? You proved them right." Rebecca couldn't hide the disappointment in her voice.

"And when?. After she let her guard down and believed it wasn't going to happen, you, in fact, did change. After she had built a whole life with you. A house. A career. Kids. A family. And you still left. For what? Nobody can know."

"I don't know either."

Rebecca looked at her brother, confused, as he sat down next to her on the couch.

"I don't know what happened. I got in my head. I looked back at what my life was like and what it was like now. I let my mind trick me into thinking this is not me. I only ever changed for her. I only did these things because she wanted them, not because I wanted them. That I never wanted this life. The wife. The kids. The white picket fence It's not me."

Bucky couldn't pinpoint the exact moment it happened, but he could remember the dark thoughts filling his head. Deceiving him into missing the playboy he once was. The man who was praised for his many affairs. The one he thought he should have always been.

"And it didn't stop there. I started thinking she was going to see it all. The truth. My truth. A man questioning his life choices. His family. Our Home. A man she deserves so much better than him. So she was going to hate me." Bucky wasn't an insecure man. However, he was never able to shake the fear of him not being enough for you. Of never being good enough for you.

So, with an assumed longing for an old version of himself, his fears were on overdrive.

"So I returned to my roots. Self-destruction." It was an old habit implemented so deep in him. It stopped gradually and almost disappeared after he met you. But with a mess in his head that he couldn't control, he retrieved to the old coping mechanism.

"I stayed longer at work. I hung out with Steve or Sam more than I should have. I took on any work trip I could. And when I'm at home, I'm either at my office or with the kids. I would call off dates before even planning. Our bedroom became so silent. It doesn't take a genius to see what I was doing." Bucky would never find a strong explanation for his behavior. He was blinded by his doubts. Blinded by what could only be described as a mental crisis.

"And she tried. She tried so hard to know what was happening. She could read me like an open book. She knew my mind was playing games with me. She reached out and beyond to know what game it was this time." A sad smile formed on Bucky's face. He recalled every time you begged him, in so many different ways, to talk to you. You wanted to know what was bothering him. What was driving him away from you.

"I could see it in her eyes. She tried to deny it. To deny what was happening. She didn't want it to be true. She didn't want to believe the game was so cruel this time that she was a victim as well. That I couldn't share my worries. That I really retrieved to my old self. I was shutting down on myself. I was shutting her out." Bucky could remember the look in your eyes when you started to realize what was going on. That you were the cause of this wavering. That he was shutting you down so he could find a way to let you down slowly.

"I saw all her calls for help, and I didn't do anything." This had a whole different meaning now that he knew about your baby. It was a new torment that nobody prepared him for.

"And what could I do? Tell her I'm questioning myself, our family, and our home. Tell her my fear that she always deserved better than me was getting too loud." Bucky couldn't find a way to tell you that the demon on his shoulder was taking over.

"I let myself think that it would be better if I left. If I didn't wake up every day and think this life is not meant for me, I should give up. Admit I can't commit anymore." The perplexity Bucky found himself in was overwhelming. So he gave up. He took the route that seemed the easiest at the time, unknowingly to him, it would lead to distressing cycle of pain and regret.

"I thought I would get back to my old ways. Nights out. Travelling. A different woman every night. A free man." An illusion the evil part of his brain built for him. An illusion he thought he must follow.

"But you still wanted to be part of the kids' lives?" Rebecca couldn't keep the question in for long.

"I thought I could be the fun dad who only sees his kids on weekends and vacations. I would have her carry all the responsibilities. " He wasn't ashamed to tell his sister how low he had fallen. How far his mind betrayed him.

"But I couldn't. I would wake up, think of them, and wait until I could call them. I would count the minutes until I could have them. I want to know everything about them." After ruining everything, his demons failed to make him a bad father.

"It turns out that old me isn't what I want anymore." Bucky finally admitted the truth. The truth is that he let insecurity and a messed-up thought win.

"But that makes it look like..."

"I only couldn't commit to her. That I don't love her."

Because you didn't know he planned to withdraw from the three of you, it appears now that he only left you.

"Truth is.."

"The truth is, I love her more than anything. She owns my heart and soul. She is the reason for everything good that has ever happened to me. Because she used to silence my demons. She was my antidote."

"It kills me that I ended up only hurting her. My sweet girl."

Bucky couldn't keep the tears from falling, so he let them fall on his face. He finally admitted what had been happening inside of him for so long. And he wasn't proud of it.

"Oh, Bucky." Rebecca couldn't find it in herself to watch her brother be so vulnerable.

"I didn't mean to hurt her, I swear." His voice was so small, just like how he felt.

"I really thought it would be better for the both of us if I left. I guess that is why they always say, Let the wife make the decisions." Bucky laughed through the tears. Maybe if he really did open up to you, you would still be his.

"Mistakes happen, Bucky. Some are more expensive than others." Maybe it was the justice of the universe for Bucky to live in regret for the pain he caused you.

"And there is only one thing you can do now." Bucky turned his full attention to Rebecca, needing the advice and the help.

"Move on."

Taglist: @lethallyprotected @almosttoopizza @ragingrainbowshipl @dexter99 @xdarkcreaturex @nash-dara @paarthurnax59 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @unaxv @missmielyhoran @wintermischief @kandis-mom

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xiaq · 2 months

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if you don't mind me asking, how do you balance work and writing? i work two part time jobs and struggle to find the energy/time to focus on writing even when i really want to. any advice?

I honestly don't do a great job of balancing work, writing, social things, home things, fitness stuff, and then just...relaxation. I'm always on the edge of burnout. Every 2-3 months, I get to a place where I feel overwhelmed, I have a good cry, I let myself off the hook for everything except work for a day or two, and then when I've rallied a bit I start the whole process over again.

And the only reason this is somewhat sustainable is that my partner does all the cooking, laundry, and most of the daily home maintenance stuff like taking out trash, checking mail, shoveling the walk, etc. We split cleaning duties on weekends and dog-walking duties through the week.

Even with that help, I typically work from 7am-4pm, take a break to walk Deacon/listen to music/shift into writing mode, and then write from 5 till dinner, sometimes through dinner if I'm on a roll. The one day a week that I climb/work out I don't write. I also don't typically write on Saturdays since those are housework/errands/social time days. Sunday is usually devoted to writing and relaxing (hockey, reading, hiking). It's a lot, even with Sunday as a "recovery" day.

I will say that just setting aside time every day with no word-count expectation made a huge difference for me. Before, I was trying to hit a certain number of words a week and then feeling like a massive failure when I couldn't achieve that. Now, I just say I have to write for at least one hour every day (other than climbing day). It doesn't matter what I accomplish during that hour, I just have to sit with the document open. On bad brain days, sometimes that means I edit what I've already got. And sometimes, even on bad brain days, I tell myself, "hey, you don't really have to write, you just have to clean up the last chapter for the next hour, no biggie" but then I have an idea and I jot down a bit of dialogue and then, well I might as well write the connecting bits, and the next thing I know it's dinner time and I have, actually, written something new. Having that freedom from a daily word count expectation greatly increased my productivity. So shoutout to my therapist for suggesting it.

Ok this is getting long, but also please just remember that writing is work. Even if you enjoy it. Even if you want to do it. It's still requires emotional and intellectual labor. And if you're already working two other jobs, that's a whole lot of work. Of course you struggle to find the energy and time to write. Because there simply are not enough hours in the day and that's not your fault. You can't budget time you don't have. So be kind to yourself. Please.

#answered asks #writing #author things #the dream of course #is to someday only write #with no other job #oh but wouldn't that be lovely

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copperbadge · 8 months

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Royals/Ramblers is DONE. I split the difference and made two epilogues from the five, and one of them just looks like it's part of another chapter. I am devious in my ways.

I'm letting it marinate for the rest of the day; I'll give it a quick pass tomorrow, then let go of it for a few days so when I come back I'll be ready for slightly deeper editing. Aiming to post it perhaps October or November, we'll see how life goes.

It meant I could finalize a lot of dates in the timeline that I've been building. I've had to shift some things around, so now the trick is to figure out timing for the stories now in the pipeline, based on my notes. There's ten, more or less, and whether I end up writing them all is dubious; it reminds me of plotting out Laocoon's Children, an extremely ambitious task, but unlike Laocoon's Children, I control the canon and I don't have to deal with anyone's stupidity but my own. And I'm really only focused on five of the ten right now. Which, given I wrote four of these books in fifteen months, plus three books' worth (Royals/Ramblers) for a total of "seven" books in less than two years....I guess we'll find out. Might take a break at some point to write something more literary, that's up to the ADHD I think.

Anyway, it's not necessarily the order in which I'd like to write the stories, but I've been holding off on some of these for a year already, they'll keep. I think the slate coming up is:

2023 Autumn - The Football Novel, which is already 2/3 written; it will run through spring 2024.

2024 Spring - The Chicken Salad Wars, Simon's novel, pushed out from this year to next; it has to end in August, because of Plot.

2024 Autumn - The Roman Ruin story, aka Classics Nerds In Love; this has to come relatively soon because it's prior to Jerry finalizing the dissolution of his estate. There's no set ending for this one, but it will likely need to cover at least until late spring 2025.

2025 Spring - The Let's Legalize Psychedelic Davzda story. Not ideal to push this one so far, but it's possible when I get there I could swap it with the Roman Ruin story, though that could make certain plotlines awkward.

2025 Summer - Ofelia's story, which culminates in Galian elections in early fall.

Fortunately most of them should be less work and words than Royals/Ramblers, which is a bit of a sweeping familial epic. Those five are all more-or-less unrelated to the royals directly.

The rest of them are either barely conceptions or can be set at any time (like the Quaker Whaler novel that happens in the past anyway). Which is kind of nice; I now have both a specific agenda for the immediate future and resources that I can build out once I get closer to the end of that agenda.

Phew. What a ride, and I'm still in the middle of it.

(I'd post a bit of story from Royals/Ramblers but for the last 4-5 chapters it's all spoilery.)

#shivadhverse

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coffehbeans · 2 months

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G/t WAC Day 21

Add a Chapter to one of your older fics

Better late than never! This took a while to edit but I'm happy with the result. Juhren and Sunflower are my oldest g/t ocs, I've written their first meeting a thousand times before, but lost most of the writing when my old phone broke. This time, I've reimagined their scene, so I'm excited to show y'all how these two had a really rocky start. Hope you enjoy!

Warning for mild descriptions of violence and death.

..............................

Run.

A branch caught on her hair and she fell backwards. Her head throbbed from pain. She scrambled up. Dirt caked her back.

Run.

Just keep running.

Don't look back.

Twigs and leaves snagged on her skirt and ripped holes in it. Heavy thuds echoed in the distance, in the burning village she left behind. The remains of a roar were carried by the wind as she ran faster, out of breath.

"They're here. Sunflower, they're after you." Alba had said.

"Just run and don't look back."

She passed through trees, stumbled on roots, twisting her ankle as she cried out in pain. But she continued.

Get away. As far away from them.

Run. Run. Run.

Run.

....

She heaved, slumping down by the base of a tree. Her heart thumped inside her, pounding so hard she thought it'd break through her chest. Sweat and dirt covered her and blood dripped from her head, golden blonde hair disheveled and full of leaves and sticks.

Her shallow breathing slowed down, the forest sounds became measly chirps of birds in the distance.

The feeling inside her started small at first, like a knot in her throat, an invisible lump forcing her to cough. The coughs got louder and harsher, throat burning from the motions. She spat on the dirt.

Then a tear fell. One. Two. They fell in successions as she hiccupped and leaned over the earth. She held down her whimpers. She can't be heard. She can't be seen. Yet the sobs still came out from her trembling lips. Sunflower clutched the dirt and curled up on the ground, letting out a constrained wailing.

The houses crumbling apart. She saw it. She saw someone's terrified face before being crushed underfoot. Blood splattered everywhere. The screams, so many screams suddenly cut off as teeth closed in on them, splitting them in half. She looked up, the stone walls of houses already collapsed. She looked around, and bodies scattered across the cracked pavement, limbs distorted as bones protruded from the lifeless corpses. The beasts screamed and laughed, kicking and stomping over everything they could find.

Then the guards from the capital came, and one flew past her, and he looked at her with those haunting, glowing eyes, widening in realization.

It could see her lack of kiira. It could see what she was.

"A human! There's a human in here!"

The flying cavalry would not get to her yet, as they were busy containing the rampage, Sunflower knew that. But it's already too late, too dangerous, and there's no safe home to turn to anymore. Alba clutched her hand tight and sneaked her out of the burning orphanage, giving her a bag of supplies as if she had prepared for this years ago.

"Run, Sunflower. Run. Follow the map I gave you, and run."

Sunflower didn't have time to hug her. Didn’t have time to say goodbye to the director and the kids. She didn't even know if they're alive.

All she knew was to run, and go to the point marked on the map.

Sunflower dried her tears and got up on shaky knees, hissing when her weight leaned on the sprained ankle. Stumbling forward, she breathed heavily from the strain, clutching her bag tight.

No matter what. She had to run. And seek help from someone she did not know. "She" would know how to help her, Alba had said. "She" would keep her safe.

So Sunflower pushed forward, even while her vision got blurry, and even when she didn't notice her body falling limply to the ground, as her vision turned black.

....

"Juhren, look!"

Sunflower came running to the clearing of the forest. Their clearing. Juhren wondered what would they do today when he saw her coming excitedly towards him, golden hair flowing in the wind. Would they climb a tree again? Would they play hide and seek? Or would Sun like to hear one more of his stories from the outside world?

He smiled when she stopped in front of him, her tiny frame two heads shorter. Her green eyes shone from glee, and her hands were folded behind her back as if she was hiding something.

"What's this?" - Juhren leaned his head to the side, smirking when he saw what she was hiding. - "You know you're bad at surprises, right?"

Sunflower backed away and pouted. - "Not fair! You're no fun!"

Her pout disappeared as quickly as it came when she brought her hand forward.

"I just wanted to gift you something since it's your birthday today!"

She motioned for him to come closer, and Juhren leaned over in front of her, round eyes looking curiously.

And with a jump, she put the flower crown over his head.

"These are special flowers that never die! If it wilts, you only need a bit of water and they'll bloom again!"

Juhren took the crown from his head and looked at the tiny blue flowers with wonder.

"Woah..."

Sunflower beamed. "Do you like it?"

He put the flower crown back on his head, glancing down at his best friend, a smile on his face. She knew how much he liked plants. She picked that special type just for him. His heart fluttered with joy.

"I love it! Thank you, Sun."

"Yay!"

Shu hugged Juhren tightly and he giggled as she hung on him like he was a tree. With a mischievous grin, he lifted her from the ground and she yelped as he carried her like a sack of potatoes.

"Hey! Put me down!" Sunflower squirmed and laughed, failing to sound serious.

"It's not my fault that you're so light!"

"It's just you that keeps getting taller!"

....

She woke up with a jolt.

Sunflower sat up, her head pounding against her skull. She clutched it with her hand, recoiling when dried blood rubbed against it. Is it too serious? She hoped not. The sky was covered by towering sequoias, a few rays of sunshine passing through the dense foliage. Her heart rocked faster inside her.

I was knocked out for too long.

She got up, struggling under her buckling knees, and trudged forward with that sharp pain on her ankle. Her head thrummed annoyingly, but she had to keep going. She'd get help from Alba's friend, and then she'd be able to rest. Sunflower walked faster through the forest, stumbling, and flinching from the pain, yet she continued forward.

I won't die here. I won't die, I won't die.

I won't die.

She repeated this inside her head, focusing on the leaf-covered path ahead of her, the sound of birds and the rustling of leaves going unnoticed by her ears.

Until heavy thunder resounded around her.

Sunflower turned stone cold, her eyes widened and panic bubbled up inside her chest. She darted her head. Left. Right. Behind her? No. In front of her. The steps were getting louder, faster, closer, multiplying in intensity and – oh god, there’s multiple of them – and coming in her direction like a fleeing herd.

She cried out and ran, the pain in her ankle all but forgotten. Behind a tree? Inside the bushes? – The steps got so intense she struggled to keep on her feet. Sunflower ran aimlessly until – There was a hollow by the base of a tree. She ducked inside it and crawled as far away from the entrance as she could, vision obscured by darkness. She covered her arms and legs with mud and dirt, hoping and praying it was enough to hide her scent. Her gut twisted and turned.

If this didn't work, she would die.

Tears scurried down Sunflower’s face, burning as they traveled on the cuts of her cheeks. She pumped air in and out of her lungs, covering her mouth with a trembling hand, smelling the scent of mold and dirt. Don’t cry. Don’t scream. Don’t make a noise. The thundering got louder and closer, but she wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t move.

Booming steps followed by ugly laughter echoed above. Sunflower muffled a scream, eyes shooting wide open. There were too many. The nordem were all around her. The earth vibrated with each step, and their deafening voices ringed in her ears. She curled up further, hoping the tree bark would engulf her and swallow her whole.

They chatted about raiding a village as if it was a walk to the market. Bile rose in Sunflower's throat, burning rage threatening to consume her. All that carnage, just for fun?! No. She can't get mad now. Just keep still and they wouldn't find her. Just keep still and –

"Hey, do you smell that?"

"Now that you mention it, the air has some scent to it."

Her eyes threatened to pop from her sockets. Shaking hands, reach for the dirt, scrub it over your skin. They can't hear you – Their hearing is too good – They cannot hear you moving. She picked another clump of mud, shaking so much half of it fell, and rubbed it on her other arm. They can't smell you, they can't –

"I've never smelled a scent like this before." – a gruff voice thundered.

Sunflower's hairs turned up to their ends. It was right outside. She could see its boots in front of the opening. Just stay still. They won't find her. They will walk away. Just stay still.

"Must be an animal."

"Or a different type of kiirian." Another nordem sneered.

“I suggest we look for it.”

“First one to find it gets to keep it.”

She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe. Sunflower gagged as air escaped her lungs. Her head was banging against her skull. They won't find her they won't find her they won't –

"What are you doing here."

The nordem flinched at the sound of a new voice. It sounded younger than the previous ones, yet just as loud as any other giant, with a gruffness to it.

Not another one! Sunflower scooted away from the hollow’s opening; eyes tightly shut.

"And what do you think we're doing, brat? This is our patrol route!"

"This area has already been covered up." - the younger yet deep voice replied. - "the next patrolling places are supposed to be over there. If you don't wanna miss out on the 'fun', you should head out the other way." – it said matter-of-factly.

A series of growls bellowed above her and she covered her ears with shaky hands.

"Fine! Let's do what the boy says for now."

"Tsk. If there's nothing there..."

"But be careful, kid." – the deepest voice of the group rumbled lowly. – "if what you said is a lie, then you know who's the first person that's gonna hear 'bout it."

Silence.

Sunflower froze. The multiple nordem left, only one remained. The deafening silence stretched between the sequoia trees, and she sucked in the humid air from the hollow. Sunflower cut her whimpers off with a clamped hand over her mouth, holding her breath. Hot tears dampened her hand.

A step. Another one. The earth shook. Don't make a sound. Don't make a sound. Bile rose in her throat. The meticulous, slow steps banged against the floor, making trees creak in protest and the leaves on the ground to rise and fall. The earthquakes got louder. It was coming closer. She thought she would vomit. Her vision blurred, her stomach churned, her head pounded each time the heavy steps collided against the soil and – No. It couldn’t have found her. It couldn’t but –

The truth dawned on her. If the other nordem could smell her, then this one could smell her too.

Her eyebrows raised in horror.

"I know you're here."

Sunflower pressed herself deeper into the the tree, heart hammering against her ribs as if begging to escape. It knew. It knew she was there, and the thought suffocated her inside. Was it taunting her? Sunflower couldn't breathe. The air came scarcely in her hurting lungs and tears dripped on the bruised hand that covered her mouth, mingling with dirt and blood. Closing her eyes, the sickening nausea grew deeper. She'd faint if she kept this up. But she couldn't. She wouldn't. No. Sunflower would not die here. She can't. So she forced herself awake.

Maybe, she still had a chance to survive.

The steps grew closer, each impact seemed to reverberate through Sunflower’s very bones. A relentless drumbeat that echoed in her ears. The ground wielded to the beast, trembling beneath its feet and causing dust to rise and itch inside her nostrils. She quivered so violently she couldn't keep her shaking hand pressed against her mouth.

When the earthquakes stopped, her source of light was covered by shadow. The hollow's entrance.

It was right in front of it.

"Come out."

A deep and powerful voice rumbled inside her ears and a shiver crawled up her spine. Sunflower moved her neck to the right, turning her head towards the entrance.

Her breath caught in her throat.

An eye. An orange eye with slitted pupils fixated on her with an intensity that froze her in place. It could see her. It could see her entirely. Her heart tried to break free from inside her bones, hands going cold as tears dripped down her face. She didn't try to contain her sobs anymore as they escaped from her throat and wracked her frame.

"I'll ask one more time. Come out."

The reverberating voice boomed with an even tone. No emotion could be seen from its eye. It commanded her with confidence, knowing that she had no other choice.

She had no other choice.

No. There must be a way. Sunflower turned her back to the eye and dug her nails in the tree wall. She gripped her knife with both hands to steady her shaking and hit the wood repeatedly. She could create a path. The hollow was small. The creature couldn't reach her. It won't reach her. The wood groaned as Sunflower made a dent into it, hitting the tree harder and harder with desperate grunts. She can get out. He won't reach her. She won't die. She can't die.

A deep sigh sounded outside. A gust of wind blew on her back. She shivered, but continued. Just keep going. Trembling hands wielded the knife, creating a fist-sized hole in the tree bark.

Something small fell to the ground next to her with a tap. She flinched. Turning to her right, she saw it: a white seed, as small as a pine, sank under the earth.

What is that?

Thorns sprouted from the dirt and shoved Sunflower away from the tree wall. She yelped and scrambled up, but another branch emerged from a seed and pushed her away. Screaming, she crawled back towards the spot, digging her boots and her hands between the plants, but they formed a wall in front of her that pushed and pulled until she fell, sending her to the entrance. Towards the nordem.

The roots forced Sunflower to face it, watching that unexpressive orange eye grow as she came closer. She writhed and struggled in vain, the vines pushing her with a force that no common plant could, thorns cutting her arms and back and dragging her forward, even as she dug her boot in the earth and pushed back against it with all her strength. The eye got bigger and bigger as she approached it, slitted pupils shrinking as it focused on her. She shook her head from side to side.

"No! No!! PLEASE!! –"

The eye was gone. A calloused palm appeared in her field of vision. No matter how much she struggled, the vines wouldn't bulge. She was dumped on the awaiting hand as it curled around her waist, trapping her in a loose fist. Her stomach plummeted as she was raised in the air, wind blowing inside her ears. Even if she was trapped, even if her heart wanted to leap out of her, Sunflower fought, feet dangling underneath her. Her arms were free and she clawed and punched the hard skin, yet no matter how much force she used, not a single scratch was made on it.

The motion stopped and she encountered its face, seeing the pair of eyes that stared at her without an ounce of emotion. She shivered under the nordem's grip, sobbing, pounding her fists against its hand.

"No! I beg you! Don't kill me!!"

The nordem opened its mouth to speak, but choked on its unspoken words. The forest got silent as Sunflower wavered up and down. The stillness and the shaking of its hand made her open her tear-stricken eyes, looking up.

The giant stared at her with widened eyes, its irises darting left and right. Color drained from its massive face as he looked at her like she's a ghost.

The contrast of its expression made her catch details of its features, a sickening nausea growing in her insides.

The orange eyes. The tanned skin. The short, spiky auburn hair.

Her body froze solid, her eyebrows shot up, dread and recognition flashing through her eyes.

No. No. Anyone but him – !

The nordem's lips trembled as it opened his mouth, exhaling over her. Sharp teeth appeared as it spoke, and the pang in her chest stung harder.

"...Sun...?" It whispered; doubt laced its deep, booming voice.

"Juhren..." - she quavered back his name.

...

Time was running out. His chest got heavy as each breath seemed harder and harder to take. His change would be today. He's sure. He knew that his eleventh birthday would be the last he'd celebrate with his friend.

He'd never see Sunflower again.

He stopped by the clearing where they always met. She wasn't there yet. Juhren tightened his grip around the flower crown necklace, its delicate petals protected by a square glass casing. Would he even be able to use it anymore? Would he even be able to see his friend's gift? He kneeled and steadied his heaving breaths, heart beating faster and faster as minutes tickled by and as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. Everything hurt. From his bones to his muscles, even the simple movement of breathing made him clutch his eyes shut in pain. If he let himself unchecked, he'll grow. Just keep himself together, until he can see Sun. Until he can say goodbye to her.

Why was she taking so long?

Just when the thought of leaving crossed Juhren's mind, he saw Sunflower walking towards him. Hugging a book with a tight grip. Her face somber and serious.

"Sun? What happened?" - he said in a trembling, gentle tone, hoping it'd hide the pain he felt deep inside his bones.

She threw the heavy book on the ground in front of him and opened it with a forceful motion. Her eyes were glinting with anger. For someone so small, she looked terrifying. Dread sank deeper in him.

What was going on?

"Look at it." - she pointed at the page.

The book showed the nordem.

His heart sank and his mouth went dry. The pain under his joints screamed louder as if reacting to the information.

She found out.

Sunflower found out what he is.

"Why did you hide it from me?!" She shouted at him, cowering as bitter tears streamed down her face.

"Sun, wait! I-I can explain-"

"NO! I trusted you!!" She cried out.

Sunflower trembled as she shook her head incredulously, tears scurrying down her face. Juhren reached a hand out to her. She was so much shorter than him now. How would she react when...?

As he thought, it's impossible. She'd be terrified. She would never…

Sunflower shouted at him again.

"W-was that your plan? Lure me out so you could kill me?"

"No! I'd never do anything like that!

"Liar!"

Sunflower walked backwards towards the path where she had come from. She sobbed loudly, her face a mix of sadness and anger. Juhren wanted to run after her, to hug her and say he'd never hurt her. Ever.

But she was right. He lied to her.

The pain in his heart grew stronger.

He didn't deserve to see her anymore.

Sunflower's face changed to betrayal. She turned her back to him and ran away, not before saying those two words that would stick into his mind like weeds in fertile soil.

"You're a monster."

...

He uttered her name and went silent, the grip around her loosening slightly. That previously unexpressive face now had guilt charging its monumental features. Sunflower found that ironic. The feelings from those bygone days felt like a distant memory, its wounds all but healed. But now that he was before her, gigantic and menacing like every other beast, she couldn’t help but laugh inside at the absurdity of it all. That pitiful face didn’t match him. Didn’t match the likes of his loathsome kind.

Sunflower looked down and smiled bitterly, her downcast eyes focusing on the flesh all around her.

"It's like I've said that time..." - she mumbled. Her hometown flashed back in her mind, the visage of those animals destroying it with joy in their faces. Sunflower wondered if Juhren was there, grinning alongside them in their bloodthirsty rampage. Her heart grew heavy.

"…Guess you're really a monster after all."

Juhren sucked in a breath and the fear inside Sunflower resurfaced all the way back with a chill down her spine. Oh no. Did she say too much? But just as Sunflower flinched and closed her eyes, a powerful gust of wind blew around her as she was brought down to the ground.

Sunflower scrambled up, backing away from the nordem that stood up and towered over her. Craning her neck up and up and up, Sunflower felt cold as she took in Juhren's massive height. Gosh, he looked unrecognizable, his appearance no different from the beasts she saw. He became just like them. His torso was covered by the leather strap of his shoulder armor, black pants tied by a leather belt, with multiple bottles of seeds attached to it. On his back he carried two axes that were as tall as a house. The only recognizable features, the hair and his eyes, turned obscure as his face stretched out far above her. He became emotionless like before, the stillness making her think he’d step on her in cold blood.

Just as she was readying herself to run for her life, he spoke in that thunderous voice. Not a trace of the voice she remembered.

Sunflower knew for certain, this nordem had no trace of the friend she once knew.

"You're right. I am."

Her eyes widened and her lips trembled while she stepped away, her neck almost breaking from looking so high up.

"Go."

That powerful command snapped Sunflower out of her shock and she didn't give a second thought before bolting to the opposite direction, even as her ankle throbbed and she stumbled, running as far as her legs could take her.

She was right. She was right from the very beginning. Their friendship was a mistake. She knew it was back in that day. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. Then why, why? Flashes of their childhood, their bright smiles as they played together, all the things they talked about, all the things he showed her – Why? The tears dried as she ran faster. Was all of it a trick? Was all of it fake? Did none of that matter to him? Are the nordem so despicable once they grow that they dismiss any memory they’ve made with those smaller than themselves? She trusted him. She trusted him. That feeling of betrayal resurfaced, the healed remains of that buried wound aching deep inside her chest.

Yet a lingering thought, albeit too small for her conscious mind to notice, slowly but surely stilled its place deep inside her:

Why did he let me go?

Sunflower looked behind her. But when she saw that the large silhouette was nowhere to be found, she turned forward, the drifting thoughts all but gone.

And she ran. Never once looking back.

…

It's been a while since she disappeared in the woods. Her smell vanished from the spot ages ago. Yet, for some reason, he expected to recognize a blur of green and yellow somewhere, as if she had no sense of self-preservation. Only that for her to return to someone like him.

He’s still so naive.

Juhren looked down at his hand, clenching and unclenching it as if a phantom of her was still in his grip. The annoying knot inside his throat didn't want to go away, and that dull ache settled its place in his chest. He sighed, closing his eyes. Opening them again.

And turned around, back to the way he came from.

#gtwac #wacprompts #g/t #giant/tiny #sfw g/t #g/t writing #g/t story #g/t fearplay #fearplay #g/t angst #coffeh writes #oc: juhren #oc: sunflower

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jods-duplicitous-sluts · 9 months

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Alecto the Ninth News

Part One

Alright friends. We are all chomping at the bit for any Alecto news at all. So here is what I've compiled from interviews, podcasts and AMAs. Sources are linked and screenshots have alt. text.

I've also included a little commentary or speculation on some points but ultimately that's not the focus of this collection.

Under the cut because I feel like it's going to get long.

So many screenshots, it turns out I'll have to split it into 3 posts.

If you enjoy this post please reblog so more people can see it!

Jump to part ■ Two of the post

Jump to part ■ Three of the post

I'm making this post on mobile, so forgive any wonkiness. Also tumblr ate this post once already *screams into the void*

• The book starts with Harrow in Hell. A reference to the Harrowing of Hell. Based on the presence of a porn mag I'd guess it's her own little river bubble inside Alecto but still just speculation.

Source: Tamsyn reads to us! Video with written description

• There is a wedding of some sort. Possibly other excuses to dress up the characters in formal ware. Some people have expressed concern that this was referencing the N- and C- wedding in Nona, but nope. We have confirmation that it is in book 4.

Source: Twitter

The next series of screenshots are all from the same tor.com interview: TM on Lyctorhood and Genderfuckery.

• This first one again confirms allusions to the harrowing of hell/ the decent of Christ. For those out of the loop the tldr:

The harrowing of hell is an Old English and Middle English term referring to the period of time between the Crucifixion of Jesus and his resurrection. In triumphant descent, Christ brought salvation to the souls held captive there since the beginning of the world.

A lot of speculation has gone on around about Harrow and her role in freeing the souls trapped in the river/reviving the river from whatever is poisoning it. [ *cough*JOD*cough*].

Also another reference towards formal outfits for the cast. So at least the wedding if not multiple formal functions.

• The question of Harrow and Gideon's souls will continue into Alecto. Looking forward to info on how enmeshed they've become and/or if they can be separated.

• I mean this quote is infamous by now. Which of our faves is it in reference to? All of them?

•I feel like we haven't seen enough about the differences between rebirth [a la Paul and Nona] vs Resurrection [Gideon/Harrow?! Someone else?] So while not a direct promise of anything in Alecto, I feel like the implication is there.

•The next two screenshots are about the Alecto cover, which is complete[the first from the above interview:]

•and the second is from an AMA from Aug. 5 2020

• The cover is definitely done since she was talking about it in 2020 and reaffirmed right before Nona’s release. I feel like they are waiting until they have a better idea of a publishing date before release. Maybe we'll get news in Q4 after the Nona paperback release and excitement dies down?

• From the same 2020 AMA. As this is pre-Nona, it could be possible that the heist mentioned deals with Gideon's body [either the Houses heisting it from BOE which happened off screen or the heist of Gideon's body from the barracks]. But I included it just in case that isn't what is being referenced.

• Same 2020 AMA: Again this could be covered in Nona as being what the John chapters were about, but also maybe not.

Source: TazMuir tumblr post from April 2020

• Another infamous quote at this point. Definitely feels like this is about the 'Third Most Toxic Polycule' of Harrow/Gideon/Ianthe and maybe Alecto is in this loop as well. With all the references to weddings and relationships I'm wondering who out of these four is marrying who...[maybe it's someone totally different, but my money is on someone in this situation]

Click to see part two!

#alecto the ninth speculation #alecto the ninth #the locked tomb #tlt #the locked tomb meta #my post #alt text

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use-your-telescope · 6 months

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When Everything's Made to be Broken - Chapter 3: I'm Still Not Sure What I Stand For

Summary: Theo makes a decision. The Avengers meet a prospective new member.

Author's Notes: Hey look, it's the chapter that has the first snippet I posted back in like, February! This song is split between two chapters, otherwise it would be a 10k chapter... next chapter (again, already written!) will likely come on Saturday, 10/28.

If you enjoy, please reblog!! I'm a lil' blog (less than 100 followers, haha) and reblogs really help me out <3

Content Warnings: None!

Word Count: 3,957

Read on AO3 | When Everything's Made to be Broken Masterlist

Song: Some Nights - fun.

Some nights, I stay up cashing in my bad luck Some nights, I call it a draw Some nights, I wish that my lips could build a castle Some nights, I wish they'd just fall off But I still wake up, I still see your ghost Oh, Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for, oh What do I stand for? What do I stand for? Most nights, I don't know anymore

If there was anything Theo could count on, it was that her cousin Max would inevitably disapprove of almost all of Theo’s life choices.

“Are you insane ?” The tenor of her cousin’s voice blared through the speaker, furious about the news she shared. “Seriously Leenie, you know you’re insane, right?”

“Sometimes, that’s all I have to give me comfort.” Theo drawled, cradling her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she packed her apartment up. “Max, don’t you get it? They’re alive - this is our chance!”

“No, no, no –” he retorted, “things are perfectly fine right now! There is no reason for us to go digging up the skeletons we buried -”

“Why are you so upset about this?” She said, rolling her eyes. “You literally have nothing to lose - if this works, we get our lives back. If this doesn’t work, we will stay here and nothing changes!”

“I have nothing–” A strangled groan came from the other side of the phone. “You are impossible, Leenie! What are the others going to think? What’s Mémère going to think? You’re putting all of us at risk–”

“Mémère has been pestering me to help with the shadow creature problem anyways,” Theo interrupted, “and might I remind you that between the two of us, I’m the one who has the authority to make this sort of decision.”

“I can’t – I can’t believe you,” Max sputtered; Theo could picture him walking around his house, flailing his arms in exasperation as she refused to back down on her plan. “After everything we sacrificed to get here, you’re going to risk ruining it for them?”

“They’re my family, you asshole,” Theo snapped, “and until two nights ago, I thought they were dead. I thought I would never see them again, and I would never see my home again, but now there’s a possibility I can have my life back! So yes, I am willing to risk everything!” Staring at the half-filled boxes around her, Theo sighed; a pang of nostalgia surged through her chest at the thought of seeing the constellations that filled her childhood in something other than her dreams. “Max, they can put an end to all of this - don’t you want to go home?”

For years, Theo had dreams where she experienced the world through her sister’s perspective, but until she found out her sister was alive Theo assumed that was all they were: dreams. Her mind playing tricks on her, making her feel connected to people who hadn’t walked the earth in a long time. It wasn’t hard to rationalize - lots of people dreamt about loved ones after they passed.

However, if it was true - if they were really alive… Maybe they weren’t just dreams. Maybe she was still connected with them and seeing what they saw. Maybe her sister was staring at the skies like they used to, remembering the tales she told Theo when they’d sneak out late at night to escape the times when it all felt like too much.

Even if Theo had seen the world through Rae’s eyes, she wondered what Rae looked like after all the time that had passed. Was she still as lean as Theo remembered, with sharp cheeks and piercing amethyst eyes that saw through everything? Was her nose still hooked ever-so-slightly?

A shaky exhale came through the other end of the phone.

“This is our home now, Leens -” Max softened his tone, “I know you miss them, but even if it’s true that they are alive, how do you know they aren’t choosing to stay there? How do you know they would even want to help? Or that it would work?”

“Max, there’s no reason to believe they wouldn’t try to find me again - they’re my family ,” Theo protested, pinching the bridge of her nose with irritation at Max’s very blatant disapproval of her decision. “Look, I get it - after all this time it’s scary to think about the possibility that we gave up hope when they were still alive and we resigned ourselves to being refugees. But wouldn’t you rather know for sure than sit here wondering what if ?”

Theo continued haphazardly tossing items into boxes - she had to have everything ready for moving into the tower. Movers would be coming in a week, and she would have to say farewell to the brownstone she’d called home for so long.

The thought of leaving her little borough was tough to swallow - what would she do when she couldn’t stop into the bodega on her way home from work and tease Carlos about the girl who kept coming in to buy stuff just to talk to him? There was no way the Avengers ever went to bodegas when they needed something, much less talked to normal people. It seemed like they were locked up in their tower whenever they weren’t making appearances or going on flashy missions. They probably had cleaning staff and a chef that they interacted with, but beyond the staff it was difficult to imagine the Avengers living normal lives and running their own errands.

God, if Tony Stark was as obnoxious and boisterous as he seemed, being locked in a tower with him would absolutely result in Theo committing murder…

Maybe she shouldn’t have agreed to this.

But if it meant she could be reunited with her family, if they could finally go home and rebuild… Maybe she could hold off on murdering the Avengers’ sugar daddy.

“I can’t stop you from doing this, can I?”

Max’s voice snapped Theo back to the present.

“No, you can’t.” Theo shook her head, adjusting how she cradled the phone so she could tape a box closed. “I gave SHIELD my terms today and they accepted. Whether you like it or not, I’m going. You’re second in command while I’m gone - you know that, right?”

“Fucking insane,” Max muttered, “This is fucking insane.”

“Yeah, I heard you the first thirty times.” Theo replied, rolling her eyes yet again.

“Fine, fine! I will try to keep Mémère in line and make sure shit doesn’t implode,” Max relented, “You have to tell the council though - I do not condone this whatsoever.”

Fuck, Theo forgot about the council.

“Chill out - I’m sure Mémère already told them.”

Well, she was assuming, but they’d find out one way or another. After all, there was going to be a press conference to announce her new role upon completion of SHIELD’s onboarding process, so it wasn’t like it was going to be a secret.

Max’s frustration meant the conversation didn’t last much longer; then again, it wasn’t like there was much else for the two to discuss. If anything, she was a bit relieved to be done talking to him, even if he was family.

The moment Max was no longer on the phone, Theo let out an exhausted sigh.

Maybe Max was right - maybe she was getting caught up in this for nothing. Maybe she wouldn’t get to them in time. Maybe it was actually a lie after all. Maybe this would re-open old wounds. Maybe she would be killed before finding anything. Maybe…

Wings flapping brought Theo’s attention to her open window. A pair of black, beady eyes stared at her, iridescent feathers shimmering in the light from Theo’s apartment.

Not a crow - too big to be a crow. The beak wasn’t like a crow’s, and the feathers around it were far more pronounced.

Definitely a raven.

Ravens weren’t common in urban areas, and seeing one on its own?

Well, if that wasn’t a sign, she didn’t know what was.

This is it, boys, this is warWhat are we waiting for?Why don't we break the rules already?I was never one to believe the hypeSave that for the black and whiteTry twice as hard, and I'm half as likedBut here they come again to jack my style

“Dr. Theolene Amaris,” Nick Fury’s voice rang out in the meeting room as a picture of a lithe woman appeared on screen. “ - also known as the Silver Shadow, the Celestial Phantom, and the Cursed Moon.”

It was only a few hours earlier that everyone was notified of the mandatory briefing, which was described as “urgent.”

Moments before, Loki found himself pondering the nature of the briefing while everyone packed into a bright conference room. In front of each Avenger, a manila file folder sat prepared for them with information related to the subject in question.The faces of his team members shifted as they developed their first impressions on the subject of their briefing, her likeness blown up on the screen at the front of the room.

Despite exceeding the capacity of the space, Loki managed to secure his usual seat in the back, conveniently located near the door for an easy escape. It was a habit that lingered from his earlier days in the tower, but having an easy escape from what were normally tedious meetings was still a benefit that Loki took advantage of more often than not. Even better, there was an empty seat next to him, lessening the otherwise inevitable sense of claustrophobia that would have eventually reared its ugly head.

She really didn’t look like much. The only noteworthy feature in her appearance was the thick mane of silver hair that tumbled down her back, stopping just above her waist. Otherwise, she appeared to be like any other Midgardian: clad in all-black, a beanie atop her head with black sunglasses obscuring her features as she walked down the street. If Loki passed her in real life, there was no way he’d offer her a second glance, or even a first.

With that in mind, it was safe to assume that in this first image, she was practicing urban camouflage – blending in with her surroundings by altering her appearance and attire to mimic those around her. The less attention she drew to herself, the easier it would be to slip in and out unnoticed; it also created an additional challenge if anyone sought to locate her. As someone who’d had plenty of experience with stealth, Loki already had an idea of what her skill sets may include.

Stark studied the first image of her, brow furrowed as he spoke up. “Hell of a name, but she doesn’t look like much. What’s her doctorate in? Bad poetry? Sad music? Scaring parents?”

“Emergency Medicine.” Fury glared at Stark while Agent Hill changed the display to a second photograph. “Assuming she isn’t a serious threat is both the first and last mistake you’ll make about her.”

The second image must have been captured in combat. She crouched down as though she just landed from a maneuver, the obsidian hood of a frayed cloak masking the top half of her face as she held a black longsword composed entirely of what appeared to be magic in one hand. Her other hand radiated with darkness as it touched the ground, ready to launch some kind of spell. Blood smeared across her jawline, a scowl across her lips as a pair of corpses lay in the background. Unlike the first photo, now he could see a scar that ran down past the bottom of her lip, almost giving her the appearance of a permanently split lip. A second scar cut through the outside edge of her eyebrow, angling out towards her temple.

One detail piqued his interest: of all the realms that Loki had visited, he did not recognize where she was. He had to give it to Fury – this picture certainly made her appear far more intimidating.

“She specializes in shadow magic—“

The room erupted as all the Avengers fired off questions at the director.

“Shadow magic? Wait, is she the one behind those shadow beast-things we’ve been fighting lately?”

“What does she want?”

“Is she working for Dr. Doom?”

“Did HYDRA give her those powers?”

“What kind of villain studies emergency medicine?”

“Maybe this will help explain things.” Agent Hill tapped a screen as the image before them went to a video.

Loki had seen this video before - it was nearly impossible to miss, having been plastered all across the news for weeks. A Midgardian woman single-handedly eliminated an entire swarm of the shadowy monsters that had plagued New York City recently, all while in a subway car. Somehow, no one knew who she was or the methods used to exterminate the pests. It was obvious from the video that it was magic of some kind, though it was different from any magic Loki had ever encountered in his life and it did not resemble anything he had ever studied. Though he hadn’t admitted it to anyone, he was curious to meet this Midgardian and learn her abilities for himself.

Of course, that was assuming she was Midgardian. There were many species who appeared to be Midgardian, though biologically they were different. Usually, it was easy for Loki to sense if someone was Aesir, Midgardian, or otherwise; however, no indication that she was anything extraterrestrial revealed itself to him.

No, this woman must have been Midgardian.

“That’s her?” Romanoff inquired, arching a perfectly groomed brow at Hill.

“Wait wait wait , I thought she was the bad guy, but she’s killing the shadowy monsters here…” Wilson said, gawking at the screen. “Unless she’s really crazy and likes killing her own, this doesn’t make sense.”

“I’m telling you, if she’s the big bad and studied Emergency Medicine, she’s definitely got a screw loose,” Barnes said, “and that’s coming from the guy with a vibranium arm.”

“This incident was weeks ago - how is it that we are just now learning of her identity?” Rhodes interjected.

“She is not our enemy,” Agent Hill finally explained, raising her voice over the incessant chatter. “She has agreed to help the Avengers find the root cause of the shadow creature problem and exterminate the beasts.”

Stunned silence permeated the room. The ticking of the clock above Fury’s perpetual scowl only emphasized the blaring lack of sound.

Loki could count on one hand the number of times he had ever witnessed total silence from the group; to see the group go from so animated to so silent nearly gave him whiplash.

“She’s joining the Avengers?” Stark’s disbelief was painted all over his face. “Emo queen Rapunzel is joining the Avengers?”

“Not exactly,” Agent Carter said, “She is coming on board specifically to help with the shadow creatures.”

“If she’s so powerful, why isn’t she already a part of the Avengers?” Banner asked, leaning in as he met Fury’s glare.

“This is a temporary arrangement.” Fury crossed his arms. “We struck a deal with her.”

“So she comes in and helps with the shadow creatures, and then what - she just disappears?” Captain Rogers pressed, “Don’t you think someone with expertise in shadow magic should be kept under close watch?”

“You’d be a fool to think she hasn’t been on SHIELD’s radar for a long time.” Fury crossed his arms and glowered at the group. “She turned down past offers to join the Avengers. Your mission is to convince her to stay.”

“Convince her to stay?” Romanoff shot Fury a wary glance, while others regarded the director as though he grew another head.

“Assuming all goes well, we want her to remain on the team after the shadow creatures are eliminated,” Agent Hill explained. “She is highly adept in both physical and magical combat, and she has expertise in stealth operations. She fills in some key areas of the team that have been lacking, while her versatility allows her to fit into a variety of smaller teams with ease. However, we need you to convince her to stay.”

“Dr. Amaris cut her teeth in a different realm,” Fury added. “She has trained with threats far more powerful than what we have encountered here on earth, and fought to survive in far worse scenarios. Her experiences and insight would be invaluable in our operations.”

“Okay, but if you had to strike a deal with her, that still raises some questions…” Banner hesitated, raising an eyebrow at Fury. “It makes it sound like she wasn’t exactly keen to help protect the world.”

“Her skills are far too valuable to not be utilized.” Fury glared at Banner. “What I was going to say before someone interrupted my briefing is that she is also an incredibly powerful healer.“

“How do we know we can trust her?” Wilson asked. “I’m no wizard, but shadow magic sounds like trouble at best.”

Barton agreed. “Besides, Nat has us covered in stealth.”

“You know how to make a woman feel appreciated.” Romanoff coyly winked at Barton.

While Loki wasn’t one to regularly agree with Wilson, for once he made a good point: this was something Loki was unfamiliar with, and at the very least it sounded dubious.

“Because if I wanted to kill you, you would already be dead.”

Every head in the room snapped towards the entrance, eyes wider than dinner plates as they gawked at the source of the voice.

Leaning against the closed conference room door was the subject of their briefing. In real life, Theolene Amaris was smaller than Loki expected - not short by any means, as she appeared to be slightly taller than Maximoff and Romanoff; she was probably the average height for a Midgardian woman. However, she was lanky, with elongated limbs and a slight figure. She carried her head high with relaxed posture, one leg crossed in front of the other as she leaned on the doorframe with hands loosely tucked in her pockets. She didn’t seem to be intimidated by the strong personalities in front of her, even as she crashed their briefing.

Dr. Amaris sauntered into the room, eyes scanning over each of the Avengers with a smirk on her face. When she reached Loki she paused, quirking her head to the side as the curl of her lips increased. “Looks like one of us might need to change.”

At first, Loki was perplexed by her remark. Upon a second glance, it became obvious. They both wore almost identical outfits: black button-up shirts with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, tucked into tailored black trousers that showed a bit of ankle, and black Oxford shoes.

He couldn’t help the snort that escaped him, a smile creeping across his own features as he allowed his shoulders to relax.

It was unusual for someone to make him laugh, especially on a first encounter. And to shock the Avengers in such a way? Well, he certainly was intrigued.

“It seems we have similar tastes in apparel,” Loki commented coolly, wondering about the nature of her remark.

Just then, Theo pulled a hand out of her pocket and snapped her fingers, instantly changing her outfit into a pair of ripped black jeans, a faded gray shirt emblazoned with some sort of sigil and the word “Queen,” and a pair of black sneakers.

Loki could feel the magic pouring off of her - while she was no god, it was apparent to him that Fury wasn’t kidding when he said she was much more powerful than she let on.

“There, that’s better.” She dropped into the seat beside Loki, leaning back and kicking her feet up onto the table before sticking out one hand. “You must be Loki?”

“Indeed, and you must be Dr. Amaris.” Loki offered a wry grin, shaking her hand with a firm grip. “A fellow sorcerer, I see.”

“You could say that,” She winked, returning the gesture with a firm grip. “Call me Theo. Dr. Amaris is what my residents call me.”

From the opposite side of Theo, Thor beamed at the sight of his brother being surprisingly friendly to the Avengers’ newest addition.

It took every ounce of self-restraint for Loki to prevent himself from rolling his eyes at his older brother. “Pleasure to meet you, Theo.”

“Don’t get any funny ideas with Rapunzel here, Reindeer Games.” Stark warned, apparently having already settled on a nickname for the newest team member.

Loki’s attention diverted to Stark, sending invisible daggers at the man. Even though they had come a long way from the distrust present when Loki first joined the team, there were certainly still moments where Stark got on his nerves.

This time it was Theo’s turn to snort.

“Rapunzel? That’s the best nickname you’ve got, Tin Man?” Theo cocked one eyebrow at the billionaire as she laughed, brushing a piece of hair over her shoulder. “I may have long hair, but good luck with trying to lock me up in this tower.”

“Watch out, or I might invent something so I can–”

“-- Then again, you named your AI system FRIDAY, so I shouldn’t be surprised,” She continued, unfazed by Stark’s threat. “Seriously, what the hell kind of name is that?”

“Says the person named Theolene...”

“First of all, I just told you - I go by Theo, not Theolene. Second, I can’t help it that my mother has terrible taste in names. Third, Loki’s helmet has horns, not reindeer antlers. For a genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist , you should know the difference.” Theo turned to the other Avengers. “And while I’m correcting people, I don’t specialize in shadow magic. I specialize in celestial magic, of which shadow magic is a subset. Dr. Doom is a joke, HYDRA wishes they gave me these powers, and my refusal to become an Avenger has nothing to do with a lack of desire to protect people, it’s because I don’t want to spend my time playing superhero when I can be more useful as a doctor. Although whichever one of you suggested I had a screw loose - Bucky, I believe? - was probably right. At least, my cousin would agree with you. He’s pissed that I agreed to this.”

For the second time in mere minutes, the entirety of the Avengers were stunned into silence. If there were two words that best described the collective response, “utter bewilderment” would be Loki’s choice.

“Wait a minute—“ Wilson blurted out, “How long have you been listening to our briefing? Have you been here this whole time?”

“Long enough to know you are just as skeptical of me as I am of you. It’s nothing personal, I know - I would be skeptical of me too! still, this has been enlightening.” Theo rose to her feet, gliding back to the entrance. She spun around, bowing with a dramatic flourish while flashing a cheshire grin at the crowd. “See you next Monday for your press conference!”

With a flick of her wrist, a series of black runes appeared all over her arms, flowing down her limbs like a stream of water. When they reached her fingertips, they rose into the air and evolved, surrounding her until she was obscured from view; in a flash of white, she disappeared, leaving nothing but a faint shimmer. The entire process took at most a few seconds, but the effect lingered far longer.

It was a finale to the encounter that was almost as dramatic as her introduction.

If Loki’s instincts were correct, she was just getting started.

And that's alright (That's alright) I found a martyr in my bed tonight She stops my bones from wondering Just who I, who, I, who I am Oh, who am I? Mmm, mmm...

#loki #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki odinson #loki x ofc fanfiction #loki smut #(eventually)#slow burn #loki fic #friends to lovers #longfic #wemtbb #when everything's made to be broken

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irondad-defensesquad · 3 months

Text

Sorry seems to be the hardest word - Chapter 1

Also posted on AO3!

Originally a story written in 2019, though I decided to revisit it.

I'm splitting this in two chapters. I'm already warning you that this first one will be painful. Tony will say some VERY mean things to Peter, which are not condoned. Part of this is me projecting onto Tony after I had a bad fight IRL, so characters might be OOC.

TRIGGER WARNINGS (for this chapter) - lashing out and mention of alcohol abuse

DO NOT SHIP PETER AND TONY. P/ROSHIP DNI.

Some days are hard and that’s part of life. But that doesn’t mean they won't be a pain in the ass. And when you’re Tony Stark, certified “piping hot mess”, the bad days can feel like he’s still in the wormhole, trapped in the deep and infinite outer space.

There isn’t a particular reason why he’s like this today. Most of his bad days work like that. Well, Tony is aware he has plenty of reasons, but none are recent.

Tony ranges from numb to irritable. When these days happen, he isolates himself in the workshop so he can focus on something else, like his suit of armor or his cars. That way, he won’t resort to alcohol, nor will anyone else get hurt. It helps that Pepper is out to work, and Rhodey is saving the world.

Today, the billionaire is fixing some bugs in his suit while at the same time he’s fixated on rebuilding a piece from the old, flaming Ford. It’s the only car part that has broken, and Tony can’t understand why. And for some reason, he’s unable to fix it. When he gets too stressed about it, Tony returns to his suit, and then he goes back to the Ford, so on and so forth.

Usually, fixing things and taking them apart help him. But today, they don’t.

At one point, Tony gives up and tries to forget the car piece for a bit.

And to make things worse…

F.R.I.D.A.Y reminds him that Peter is on his way.

“Oh. Oh my god,” Tony groans loudly. “Fuck.”

Only then does he remember that today is lab day. On his bad day. How could he forget?

Tony clearly can’t tell Peter to go home. He didn’t take more than two hours to get kicked out immediately. That’s just an asshole thing to do. On the other hand, the older man feels bad for thinking this way, but just imagining Peter rambling and rambling endlessly is already worsening his headache. He also won’t have the courage to tell Peter to not stay in the workshop. He doesn’t want to make the kid feel like he’s not wanted.

He sighs, soon hearing the elevator door opening, and Peter’s bouncy, happy steps going towards him. He’s clearly having a great day. Oh, the irony.

“Hi, Mr. Stark!” Peter greets him. Tony doesn’t have to look at him to see the sun rays coming out of him. Instead of warming him, they only blind Tony and make the heavy storm in his head grow larger.

“Hey, kid,” Tony lamely acknowledges.

“I’m feeling so awesome today! I finally aced my Spanish test,” Peter goes on, probably not noticing Tony’s lack of attention. “For a moment, I thought I wouldn’t make it, since the teacher can be a little hard on the correction, but he congratulated me! Not to brag, but I was one of the few aces in class, and man, you should’ve seen the look on Flash’s face, it was priceless!”

Peter is full on chatterbox mode, talking about all the other school stuff. On a normal day, Tony would’ve been so proud of him. They would’ve even ordered something special to celebrate. He knows how stressed Peter gets because of school, so him feeling so proud of himself is a delight. It’s too bad that Tony’s brain isn’t complying with him, so he stops listening to Peter halfway through, and he realizes he’s not doing anything with his suit, just sliding his fingers on the projection repeatedly, aimlessly.

At some point, he realizes the workshop is silent, save for the Black Sabbath playing in the background. That means Peter has finally realized he’s talking to nobody.

“... uh, w-what are you doing over there?” The teen stutters.

Tony sighs. He should apologize.

“Sorry, kid. I’m…” I’m having a bad day. This is not your fault. But he doesn’t have the strength to say these words, for some reason. “I’m trying to fix some bugs in the communication system.”

“Oh. Do you need help?”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Liar. “You can do whatever you want, like homework, or anything in your suit. I’ll help you later if you need me.”

“Um, okay.”

As Peter moves to his counter, Tony instantly remembers what’s lying there.

“Just don’t touch that thing there, alright?” The latter requests. Almost begging.

“What’s that?” Peter observes it.

“Just… a stubborn car part I’ve been trying to fix forever. And not getting any progress.” He knows his voice is sharper than usual, but Tony’s head is exploding. He’s so angry. At whom?

Peter merely hums and installs himself in the counter. The damned piece is on the other corner. Finally, Tony goes back to the suit. As long as it stays this way, maybe his bad day will improve.

The hero is able to distract himself for once, as Paranoid plays. Tony hears a shuffle or another coming from Peter, but it’s nothing too bothersome.

Next thing he knows, though, everything goes to shambles.

The noise that comes destroying the quietude and peace is loud like thunder. It’s probably the storm inside Tony’s head now ruining the real world, too.

“What the FUCK, Peter?!” Tony blurts out, knowing that it came from the kid. He knows what Peter did, as he sees the car part broken into pieces, scattered on the floor.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, I was just trying to get a better look at it, m-maybe fix it for you–”

“Are you serious?! I told you not to touch it!”

“I’m sorry, I-I just wanted to help!”

“I don’t WANT your help! I just wanted you to BE QUIET and do your thing in your corner! But clearly you NEVER listen to me when I tell you to stay put!”

Peter is shaking his head, wanting to say more, but Tony keeps going.

“See, that’s your goddamn problem. You refuse to listen to me, you ‘think’ you’re going to help, but you just make EVERYTHING WORSE. That’s exactly what happened at the ferry.”

“But Mr. Stark…” Peter’s voice is tiny.

“I don’t know how many times I have to get in that stupid brain of yours,” Tony steps forward, stepping on one of the pieces, “DO NOT TOUCH MY FUCKING STUFF!”

The thunder scares Peter. He steps back.

He’s shaking. He’s shaking so hard.

And his eyes…

Those precious puppy eyes…

Tony stops dead in his tracks.

The damage has been done.

He replays all the words he just said, and he feels absolutely sickened by his own cruelty.

Peter is scared. He’s scared of Tony.

Oh my god. Oh my god, no.

Peter slowly backs away, like a scared animal.

“Peter,” Tony says, reaching out a hand…

But the kid runs away.

“Peter, wait!”

The boy manages to snatch his backpack and rush to the elevator. Tony doesn’t rush after him, though his arm is still trying to reach him. Of course, it doesn’t work. Peter is gone.

Tony is frozen where he stands.

The car part is broken beyond repair. Some small part of him still believes he can fix it.

But that is not more important.

He needs to fix what he just did to Peter.

He has to fix things.

No suit of armor, no car, nothing is more important than his kid.

When Tony rushes outside, he’s not too late.

“Peter!” He exclaims.

The teenager flinches, much to Tony’s dread. The former turns around like the latter’s storm is going to hit him again.

“Peter, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said those- those awful things to you. I was wrong about everything I said.”

Despite this, Peter doesn’t seem to believe it. He’s been betrayed. His trust… broken. It’s such a stark contrast to when he arrived at the workshop.

“I get it, Mr. Stark,” he says, voice low. He turns around to avoid Tony. “I just ruin your life.”

“No… goodness, no. My life is so much better with you in it.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

Peter isn’t crying anymore. He’s not even angry. He’s just hurt.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise,” Tony insists.

“I just break your stuff and make a mess. You said that, and you believe that.”

Tony shakes his head. Meanwhile, Peter is checking his phone and texting someone, probably Happy.

“Please, don’t leave like this,” the man begs. “W-We can fix this, together. We’re a team, right?”

“Mr. Stark–”

“We can order your favorite food, we can celebrate your grade and- and everything you do, we can watch those space movies you like–” Tony knows he’s pushing but he doesn’t know how to stop.

“Tony.”

Peter has never called him by his first name before. And it doesn’t sound endearing.

The boy is still not facing him.

“... I shouldn’t have come here,” he concludes.

Tony doesn’t know what to say anymore.

After a pained silence, Peter sighs, probably to filter his pain. “I just need to go home.”

The other inhales and exhales, putting his hands inside his pockets. “Okay.”

Not too long after, a car arrives in front of the building. Happy only opens the windows, looking confused at the situation yet not prying. He gestures for Peter to get in.

Peter is heading towards the car…

“L-Let me know when you get home, okay?” Tony pleads quietly.

The teen just vaguely looks at him, not directly. “Okay.”

Happy gives Tony a sad gaze, as if meaning, “we can talk about this later, if you want”.

Regardless, Happy and Peter are quickly gone, and Tony watches the car disappear into the horizon. There’s no one else around to watch this scene.

Tony drove them all away.

He drove his kid away.

And for the first time in a while, Tony can’t hold back his tears.

(Chapter 2)

#lotus speaks #irondad #fics #my fics #don't worry!!!! this will have a happy ending i promise!!!!

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zephyra-in-the-house · 18 days

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Heya zephyra

How're u doing 💓

Um u got any tips on how to start or make a fanfic ?

I wanna write my own fanfic I just don't know how to start

I already got my OC done and the back story of my OC

The only problem is how to start 🫤

Thought maybe ask someone with experience like u ❤️‍🔥

So u got any tips or advice ?

Thanks 😁🫱🏻‍🫲🏼

That's a good question!

Honestly, I'm not sure how I've managed to get this far in my writing. It amazes me just how many people follow Second Chances and continuously read each new chapter. I never once thought that I'd get to this point but I'm very grateful for all the love and support I've been shown because it just motivates me to keep writing~

With that aside, I started out on a pretty big scale when I first started writing fanfics. I've written two so far and basically it started as one little scene that I had in mind and then I built around it.

I'm not sure how other writers do it but I think my way may be a little unorthodox LOL

I say that because I never start at the beginning. In fact, most of the time, I will get inspired and think of a scene to write but it's almost never a beginning scene.

Instead, I always end up coming up with little scenes that are sprinkled throughout the entire length of the story. It could be a certain kind of hug or a fight between certain people or one particular conversation or something simple like that. I will then take those little puzzle pieces and splatter them all over my canvas called Google Docs. Then I go through and I reorganize each scene based on where I think they would fit during the story's progression.

Therefore, I ended up with a canvas that had various colors splashed on it.

Since the beginning, I always knew that I wanted to start with that first chapter where Macaque gets food from "Pigsy’s". That was my absolute starting point no matter what.

So, I wrote that and then I went through my colorful canvas of ideas and I split it into sections. Each section was for a specific chapter. Now, after I wrote that first chapter, I developed a process where I have the current chapter I'm working and then a more or less concrete sketch of the next 2-3 chapters to come.

I don't write more than that right away. I have ideas for chapters beyond that but nothing concrete. That's because a fanfic is constantly developing. There is no way to make concrete plans. What you plan for chapter 10 might be completely changed because of something that you thought of for chapter 6. Or you could end up writing more than intended for one chapter and have to split up certain chapters (*cough cough* the shopping trip *cough cough*). Either way, I've learned that it's better to be flexible with what you plan to post when it comes to fanfic.

That's kind of how I started and that's how I've been making Second Chances so far.

In any case, I feel like I'm rambling at this point 😅 I could talk about writing techniques and strategies for days but!

My main advice is: you do you.

When it comes to writing, there is no correct way to do it. It's kind of like art in that way. You can add as many scenes or as many wild colors as you want or you could be a completely black and white artist or someone who only writes poetry.

Either way, the key to anything creative is to just do it. It doesn't have to be good. It doesn't have to be perfect. I can't count how many times I've written something and then came back to it and gone "that's absolute shit what the fuck was I thinking". On the flip side, I've also had times when I write something and toss it to the side and I come back and I'm like "Who the fuck wrote this cause I know it wasn't me man that shits too good" 😆

So just write what you want to write and make it as simple or as complicated as you want it to be. The best thing I ever did was get into the habit of writing just to write. Whether it was a memoir or a poem or a short scene in a story I'm doing, I just write. Freeball it.

Thank you! I wish you well on your adventures!

#lego monkie kid #second chances #shadowpeach #fanfic #Writing #writing advice #creative writing #on writing #writer

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hollyhomburg · 2 months

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LI!‼️‼️ OMG

This chapter has made me gobsmacked!!!!

Like it was so well written!! And idk,, but the way your write the shower part just makes it so easy to imagine. Like the whole thing is so easy to picture and understand.

AND POOR MC FINDING THAT IN HER /EAR/ !! I would've thrown up just like tae tbh. I also thought she was partially deaf in that ear when she was saying she couldn't hear properly-

The whole part from mc in the closet calling moonbyul wasn't that shocking to me? tbh I was kind of expecting it? Because when she shushed Namjoon in the bathroom I know she didnt do it because he believed what he was saying. Maybe it's because I have a slightly similar mindset to the mc when it comes to things like this (taking responsibility when things go wrong) but I just knew she was gonna try and do something.

And just because I'm a dumb bunny😓 I did NOT see hobi's secret coming AT ALL so I am more shocked now than ever before. Idk why but hobi's secret out of everyones is the most shocking to me for some reason. Maybe it's coz I was like already shocked and like thinking about everything else in the chapter? But it really has shocked me beyond anything else.

BUT NOW i'm just questioning moonbyul!! Like?? I thought she was an alpha?? or am I just stupid and remember wrong?? Or did hobi not realise? Or did she hide it from him?? Like I'm so confused!! Even when describing the scents ,, didn't the mc describe them once?? and didn't she describe them like really putrid or something?? or was it just because she was in a situation she didn't want to be in? OR AM I REMEMBERING WRONG AGAIN?! if i am i apologise 😓

but this whole chapter really was an EMOTIONAL ROLLERCOASTER!! It literally had me going 'what the heck??' and 'hold on- wait?!' like over and over and over!! You did so well Li!! Good job and thanks for writing such an amazing chapter!! Can't wait for the next one!!

Stay safe and healthy 🫶

(also I asked to be an anon before but forgot which one so can I please be ☁️ anon?)

Ahhhh thank you for sending such a cute ask <3 I’ve been so distracted the last few days I haven’t even gotten to all of these!!

I think one of the reasons why it’s easy for people to picture bily is because I also see it super cinematically- and most of the writing process for me is just continually asking “what could I add to make this feel more real? What am I pictureing that I’m not saying?” there was this tictok trend talking about the minds eye and how some people see nothing when they imagine and other people see everything…I’m pretty sure I’m one of the very few 4k, smell, touch, sound, level imaginers out there lol

Yes! You’re right in assuming that this is the m/c trying to take responsibility for the situation! Because it was her reliance on Moonbyul in the past that made the pack get into this situation in the first place! It’s character growth and I’m very proud of her 🥰

You’re not a dumb bunny! I was trying to toe the line between it being a complete surprise and having people figure it out! The fact that it seems to be a dead even split of people who didn’t know and did means I’m learning! And that I did it alright!

As for your questions- I did a little breakdown post of a it a while back but! Basically Moonbyul didn’t have to hide anything from Hobi at the time- because she wasn’t taking the drugs to turn her scent into an alpha’s scent. The scene you’re thinking of with the m/c- she describes their scents that way because Moonbyul is on the edge of needing another dose and her omegan scent it starting to peak through. It’s all chemically because of the drugs which is why the m/c doesn’t like it.

I’m so happy you enjoyed it!! I’m already about 3.5k into the next chapter- I know it will need tons of editing but I feel like this is the first chapter that’s come easy to me in a good long while <3

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i-write-and-therefore-i-am · 9 months

Text

One Monstrous Miracle (Part Seven)

Hi. I know it's been quite a long time since I last updated this story, I'm sorry guys! If there's anyone still interested, here's a new chapter, just for you! This is partially motivated by Season 2 dropping, and partially by intense nostalgia from rereading what I had already written. I have an outline for the last chapters, but I'm still trying to decide how to split them up. I can't promise how soon I'll be posting more after this, but I can guarantee it will be sooner than last time! Thank you all for your continued support, and I hope you love this chapter as much as I do <3 (Pst! Here’s the AO3 version!)

First-Previous-Next

Pairing: Aziraphale/Human!Reader

Summary: A group of kids stop Armageddon (offscreen). A deadbeat dad shows his face. Aziraphale almost has a panic attack.

Warnings: Unsure, please let me know if any pop out at you! I wrote the first part of this chapter 3 years ago, and finished it tonight, so please forgive me if you spot any yucky parts.

Word Count: 4,714

Tadfield Airbase, some weeks later…

Crowley was well aware that things were far from being over. He knew exactly how much Hell had been itching for a do-over, that they were still licking their wounds from the Great War. Adam and his friends had stopped Armageddon, something that would not go unpunished by both sides. If Heaven and Hell wanted a war, they would get one. It was only a matter of time.

They were all standing around in the lull between banishing the Four Horsemen and the next Big Thing, doing the dreaded, but inevitable small talk thing with each other. Crowley ignored most of it, staying on high alert. He was soon rewarded for his diligence in the form of an enormous bolt of purple lightning striking the ground not ten feet away from where the group was standing. Simultaneously, the ground began to break apart and crumble in a small patch beside the spot where the lightning had touched down, seemingly being forced up by something moving from below the pavement. They all gasped, stepping away from the new developments. Everyone except for Adam and Anathema. Newt was trying to pull his new girlfriend back, but she stayed, feet planted firmly where they were. Adam just looked.

Adam watched as a tall, dark shape began to form in the lightning, and something broke through the ground next to it and continued to rise. The rising form turned out to be Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies. Adam did not know how he knew this, but he did. The other form was not just one person, but two. An Angel, Gabriel, Adam thought, and a woman. Adam frowned. Gabriel seemed to be holding the woman up by her hair! That didn’t look very nice. The Demon and the Angel glared at each other before marching forwards, Gabriel dragging the groaning woman behind him.

Aziraphale couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him when he saw the state you were in. Once Gabriel had gotten close enough, he threw your limp body to the ground, shaking out his hands as though he had been touching something quite foul. Aziraphale was already halfway to you, shrugging off his coat to cover your ripped and dirty clothes. He gathered you into his arms, mindlessly healing all your scrapes and cuts, taking your bloody wrists in his to press cooling miracles into the wounds there. The look he gave Gabriel could have sent him straight to Damnation, if Aziraphale had been concerned with anything other than your wellbeing. You whimpered and fell fully into Aziraphale’s embrace.

“What did you do to her?” Aziraphale demanded of the Archangel, feeling his blood boil in rage. “Her clothes are soaking wet!”

Gabriel grinned shrugging as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. Aziraphale narrowed his eyes, and he could feel Crowley bristling at his side.

“Oh, I haven’t done anything to your precious little pet. You know me, Azi, I don’t like getting my hands bloody. You know, unless there’s a war on. A divine, righteous war that you…people had no right getting in the way of!”

If Aziraphale hadn’t been holding you, he would’ve lunged at him. As it was, he could feel your shivering getting worse, so he wrapped his coat tighter around you and brought you closer to his chest, burying his face into your messy hair. He was thankful you were alive, anyway. Seeing how the angels had treated you doubled the guilt he felt for not dropping everything to scour creation looking for you. Although he knew it was the right choice, later, he would look at every single cut, scrape, and abrasion on your body, thinking that if he had gotten to you, if he hadn’t gone to Tadfield instead, that you would be whole. You would be healthy and happy, far away from all of this mess. As it was, you were right smack in the middle of Armageddon, completely and utterly clueless about what was happening.

Meanwhile, you had gradually been coming back to consciousness, the jolt from being thrown onto the concrete doing most of the heavy work for you. The first thing you noticed was the smell—like wool and tea and old books. A familiar smell that you couldn’t quite place, so you opened your eyes to find your vision blocked by a wall of light tan. Your pain-addled brain was slow to recognize what had happened, but once it did, you couldn’t help yourself from bursting into tears.

“Aziraphale! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…they just took me! I sw-swear I didn’t tell them anything, honest—”

“Hush, now! Don’t be silly!” Aziraphale was aghast. Here you were, after Heaven only knows what you had gone through, and you were apologizing! To him! He began rubbing soothing circles onto your back, cooing softly, and quieting your crying. As if he needed more proof that he did not deserve someone like you.

“Oi! Do you think you could get her to stop bawling?” Aziraphale lifted his head to see Lord Beelzebub snarling at the pair of you. Aziraphale couldn’t stop himself from staring as a fly landed right on her eyeball and crawled back into the socket. Shuddering, Aziraphale forced his gaze away from the disgusting sight.

“Surely you can understand, Your Highness, with her having just been tortured and all.” Crowley answered, speaking over whatever was about to come out of Aziraphale’s mouth. He knew his friend, and he recognized the same ancient anger that he had felt from Aziraphale the night they had gone to your empty flat. If Aziraphale had had the wherewithal to keep him from burning half of Heaven to find their girl, then Crowley could, at least try and do the same. For now. Beelzebub sneered at him but turned back to the conversation.

“Now. Adam. Listen to me.” The Prince of Hell was bending over in front of the Son of Satan, looking him straight in his eyes. Adam had to stop himself from scrunching his nose at the rank smell that was rolling off her in waves. He stared at her, waiting for her to speak. “When this is over, you’re going to get to rule the world! Don’t you want to rule the world, boy?”

This was a question that every child has thought of at least once. The ultimate, most interesting question one could ask themselves. Adam, being who he was, hadn’t thought about it at all until the past few months, as things in the world had gotten stranger and stranger. After reading the Antiquarian magazines, after finally learning about all the stuff that was really happening, everything that was wrong with the world, Adam knew that he wanted to fix it. Get rid of the nuclear plants! Welcome the aliens to Earth! Adam would fix everything. Hearing Lord Beelzebub say that he really could rule the world and all he would have to do would be to listen to the voices in his mind that he had been resisting all this time was tempting, to say the absolute least.

But then Adam looked around him at the strange group of people that had gathered together to stop that very thing from happening. The two Angels and the two Demons, the witch and the witchfinders, the fortune teller…and his friends. He knew for a fact that he had scared them witless with how he had behaved towards them. Despite how horribly he had treated them, they were here with him—they had his back. He grinned at them, and they grinned back. He turned to the Prince.

“It’s hard enough to have to think of things for Pepper and Wensley and Brian to do all the time so we don’t get bored. I’ve got all the world I want, right here.” His friends cheered, while Gabriel and Beelzebub looked positively murderous. Gabriel huffed and waving his hands around angrily.

“Well, you can’t just refuse to be who you are,” he informed Adam. “Your birth, your destiny, they’re part of the Great Plan—”

Aziraphale stopped fretting over you when he heard those damnable words. The Great Plan. Poppycock. How many times has that phrase been used over the millennia to excuse all sorts of shit? As he listened to Gabriel and Beelzebub squabbling over not getting their war, he was hit with a sudden realization. It was something that had crossed his mind from time to time, but he had always dismissed it outright because…because of what, exactly? Righteousness? Fear? Was he afraid to acknowledge something so huge that it would shake the very foundations of his faith? He turned and gestured to Madame Tracy, who had been watching the proceedings with varying degrees of horror and fascination. Her heels clicked on the pavement as she hurried over, and it occurred to Aziraphale that he had inhabited that body not one hour ago. What a strange thought.

“What is it, my dear?” Tracy asked kindly. Aziraphale waved her closer to where he was sitting with you half across his lap.

“Tracy, would you mind terribly if I asked you to watch Y/N for a moment?” Tracy immediately got down on the ground beside him, reaching for your still weak body and pulling you gently towards her. She could see Mr. Shadwell inching closer out of the corner of her eye, but she focused on you.

“Oooh, you poor dear. We’ll have you right as rain as soon as all of this nonsense is over with!” She assured you, squeezing your hand. You sneezed and groaned.

Aziraphale rose to his feet, brushing the dirt and grit off of his trousers, and strode over to the rest of the group. He cleared his throat to get their attention.

“Ahem. Um, excuse me, you…keep talking about the Great Plan,” he began. Gabriel did not look at him when he replied,

“Aziraphale, maybe you should just keep your mouth shut.” Aziraphale had no intention of doing anything of the sort.

“One thing I’m not sure I’m clear on just yet. Is that the Ineffable Plan?” Gabriel and Beelzebub shared a confused and irritated look with each other.

“The Great Plan!” Beelzebub insisted, her voice going sort of staticky in her frustration. “It is written! There shall be a world, and it shall last for 6,000 yearzzz and end in fire and flame!”

“Yes, yes that sounds like the Great Plan.” He paused, smiling warmly at the two entities. “Just wondering, is that the Ineffable Plan as well?”

There was a short silence.

“Well, they’re the same thing!” Gabriel sounded a lot less confident than he had before. Crowley couldn’t believe it. All of this fighting. All of this uncertainty, and running around England searching for the bleeding Antichrist, trying to stop the unstoppable war and the two people in charge of the whole affair didn’t even know if God wanted it in the first place. You couldn’t make this drivel up, you really couldn’t.

“You don’t know,” Crowley was incredulous. He looked at Aziraphale and he knew that they were on the exact same page. He smirked. “Uh, well, it’d be a real pity if you’d thought you were doing what you thought the Great Plan said, but you were actually going against God’s Ineffable Plan. I mean, everyone knows the Great Plan, yeah? But the Ineffable Plan…” He licked his lips with his forked tongue. “Well, it’s ineffable, isn’t it? By definition we can’t know it.” Gabriel and Beelzebub looked stricken.

“But…it izzz written?” Beelzebub buzzed, disheartened. Crowley nearly felt sorry for the poor things, all the work they had put in, all for naught. Then he thought about all the work he had put in and found he didn’t care about their feelings anymore.

“God does not play games with the Universe.” Gabriel tried in a tone that sounded resolutely final, but with an expression that looked like someone had just broken his favorite toy. Crowley couldn’t help himself from laughing out loud at that one.

“Where have you been?” he asked in between chortles. The two of them stepped away from the group to have their own little conversation. Crowley watched as Aziraphale returned to his post at your side, nodding his thanks to the strange red-headed woman he had been when Crowley had first reunited with him. Gabriel and Beelzebub couldn’t resist one last threat directed towards Adam before they both blinked out of the world. That was that over, then, onto the next one.

You had been watching all this taking place from your spot on the cold, wet ground. Aziraphale’s coat and arms had been warm enough, but you couldn’t even focus on your own body with everything that was going on. You had never felt more confused in your life, surrounded by complete strangers, except for Aziraphale and Crowley. Aziraphale. The people who had taken you, they’d called themselves Angels, had known who he was, and had known about Crowley too. They had called Aziraphale an Angel, too, and Crowley a demon. They had demanded any and all information that you had concerning either one of them, but you had no idea what they were talking about. At first, you assumed that Aziraphale was secretly in some deep trouble with some strange crime syndicate, like a Godfather sort of thing. But the longer you stayed on that chair, the more you had begun to realize that these angels were…well, they were Angels. And that meant that Aziraphale was an Angel too.

________________________________________________________________

Of all the things you’d expected to happen to you, meeting actual Satan was not high on that list. After the shock of Aziraphale, Crowley, and …Adam(?) blinking in and out of existence, you were greeted by the deep rumbles and sharp smell of burnt earth announcing the arrival of the Great Adversary. Here. In the flesh. About a million feet taller than you, with only his top half poking out of the actual ground, Satan cast an extremely intimidating figure. Your heart stopped when Adam, a boy that couldn’t even be in his teens yet, stepped up to the Ruler of Hell and gave him a piece of his mind. Apparently, Adam was Satan’s son, and had never even seen his own father for the entirety of his life. Typical. Adam sent his father straight back to where he had come from. Once the pavement had patched itself up, a small, red car came tearing through the lingering smoke. The door opened, and out stepped a very cross, middle-aged man.

“Can anyone tell me, what exactly is going on?” He demanded. It turned out that this man was also Adam’s father, which was very confusing. The children all migrated over to him, and the rest of them stayed back, assessing the damage, and waiting to see if it all really was over. You watched as the young couple embraced almost forcefully; the man’s glasses being pushed askew with how…passionate his partner was being with her kisses. The red head and the old man with the Dr. Seuss-ian gun-thing were standing awkwardly next to each other, but you could see their hands brushing each other ever so slightly. Your boys had examined each other, and were now making their way over to you, Aziraphale not even bothering to hide his worry while Crowley sauntered along behind him.

“You alright, Y/N?” Crowley nearly could’ve convinced you that he wasn’t concerned about you, if it wasn’t for the serious expression on his face that completely belied the casual way he had spoken. Aziraphale stayed quiet, seemingly unable to meet your gaze. You looked back at Crowley.

“I’ve been better.” You paused. Aziraphale and Crowley had hidden this part of themselves from you, their true selves, one could say. Now that Crowley wasn’t wearing his glasses, you could see that he had sickly yellow eyes with slits for pupils. Aziraphale didn’t seem any different, but after what the Angels had told you, and what you had seen in the nightmares they had given you, he was hiding some very impressive wings under that trench coat. What were you supposed to do with this information now? The two people you had grown to love more than anyone else weren’t even human, apparently, and they had kept that from you the whole time you had known them. What else could they be lying about?

Immediately, you felt awful for even entertaining such a terrible thought. You knew it wasn’t like that. You could tell just by the look of pure remorse on Aziraphale’s face. Crowley was too much of a sweetheart at his core to hurt you needlessly. You wouldn’t treat them any different at all. You would accept them for who they were, just as they had accepted you with all your faults. You lifted a shaky arm towards the pair, pulling yourself back into the moment.

“Help me up?” They didn’t hesitate to come forwards, Crowley going to one side and Aziraphale going to the other to lift you as gently as they could off the ground. You groaned quietly as your aching body was made to move, but your boys held onto you, letting you lean on them for support. The moment he was sure that you wouldn’t collapse on them, Crowley dropped his hands and stepped back to where he had been before. Aziraphale did not. His fingers dug into the fabric around your waist almost as if he were afraid to let you go. You remembered the last time you had seen him, when he told you that he loved you and how reluctant he had been to let you leave even then. You turned around so that he was now holding you properly in his arms and placed your hands on his chest.

“Are you alright?” Aziraphale startled and looked straight at you for the first time, completely bewildered. His grip on you lessened quite a bit, but he still did not let go.

“Y-you’re asking me if I’m alright? Have you seen yourself?”

“No, actually, but I’d imagine I’m not looking too hot at the moment.” Aziraphale appeared to have lost the power of speech. He sputtered, opening and closing his mouth like a fish while trying to find the words, any words, to say.

“Not too hot?! I can’t believe you, I really can’t. After everything—”

“You know, I’d really prefer it if you didn’t mention it, if you don’t mind.” You interrupted. “I promise I will let you therapize and rehabilitate me to your heart’s content later, but right now, I just want to make sure that you’re alright.”

The process of Aziraphale understanding what you had said was clear in the expressions on his face. At first, he was still baffled at your seemingly blasé attitude towards your kidnapping and torture. Then, you could see the change in him as he slowly realized what you had said. You knew it had clicked when Aziraphale’s mouth dropped open, and you had to hide your amusement when his eyes widened in genuine surprise. You evidently hadn’t been fast enough because Aziraphale quickly attempted to reel himself in, blinking and clearing his throat. He swallowed audibly.

“So…you…what I mean to say is—” He cut himself off. He bit the inside of his cheek, but you could tell that he was trying to hide the way his lips had begun to tremble ever so slightly. “After everything, you aren’t…you…you want to see me again?” Your heart broke at how shyly hopeful he sounded. You grinned, lifting your hands to frame his beautiful face. One of his hands flew to cover yours, his thumb stroking your knuckles absentmindedly.

“Of course, you silly man. Though I suppose I should call you Angel, now, huh?”

“I will never be able to tell you how sorry I am about that, Y/N. I wanted to tell you, truly I did. I even planned to more than once, but I could never summon the courage. I will never forgive myself for what they did to you, those horrible, vile—” He broke off when you lifted onto your tip toes to press your lips to his cheek. He stared down at you in shock.

“We don’t have to talk about any of that right now, Azi. Really, we don’t have to talk about it at all, although I know you’ll need to get it off your chest eventually. I’m just glad that I have my boys back. All the rest, we can deal with later.”

Aziraphale couldn’t stop himself. He had waited all these months pinning for you, never once thinking that you could possibly feel the same. And then, on the night he had tried to force you to leave him by saying all those wicked things, you’d told him that you loved him too. After weeks of not knowing where you were, but not being able to look for you, after seeing what the angels had done to you, after feeling you here, alive and in his arms and looking at him like that, he couldn’t stop himself from tilting his head and leaning down to (finally) plant a kiss on your lips.

Your reaction was instant. Your hands dropped from his face to go around his neck, pulling him farther down so that you could feel his lips more fully against your own. He pulled you in closer, feeling the desperate urge to never let you out of his sight again. You sighed into the kiss, prompting Aziraphale to put a slow and reluctant end to it. You were still in public, after all, with an audience. The both of you pulled apart, unwilling to end the moment.

Aziraphale opened his eyes before you did and took great joy in being able to watch your serene face for the few moments your eyes stayed shut. He felt a sharp pang in his heart as your eyelids fluttered open, almost as though you had just awoken from a very pleasant dream. Your smile could have lit up a room, and it was all for him. He almost couldn’t take it. He could feel Crowley’s excitement radiating off of him, but he ignored his friend. You were the only thing that mattered. He raised a hand to tuck a bit of your hair behind your ear, smiling serenely down at you.

“So…what does this mean, then?” You asked, hating that you had to interrupt the moment that you were having, but needing to know the answer. After everything, you needed Aziraphale in your life more than ever, and if he didn’t feel the same, now was the time to break it off. You couldn’t wait around for him to stop being afraid to love you, you needed it to happen now.

Aziraphale wanted to say many things, but something was holding him back. He frowned inwardly, confused. What was making him hesitate? Every inch of his body wanted to fly to you, to stay wrapped protectively around you until the Universe finally burned into nothing. But there was some small, wriggling thing trying to grasp his attention, fluttering around on the wind—

That damned prophecy! “When alle is fayed and all is done, ye must choose your faces wisely, for soon enouff ye will be playing with fyre”. Fire…Aziraphale had to talk to Crowley about it. He couldn’t quite parse it on his own, although the “faces” part was fairly straightforward. He refocused his attention on you, and felt his heart twinge at the mix of emotions on your face.

“My deepest apologies, dearest, I was lost in thought. What this means—” he took your face in both of his hands, holding you as the precious gift you were, “Is that Crowley and I unfortunately have one very small thing that we must take care of to ensure that any loose ends get tied up. After we have finished with that…”

Aziraphale trailed off. All of his insecurities, all of his doubts that he wasn’t good enough for you, that you would turn him away, especially after what his kind had done to you, raced to the forefront of his mind and stopped his mouth. You frowned a little, but slowly, realization dawned on you and your expression turned sad. You lifted your hands to cover his.

“Aziraphale, listen to me. I love you. I will continue to love you for the foreseeable future. I want to be with you. I just…I need to know if that’s what you want, too. If it’s not, I will understand, but I can’t keep waiting, Azi. I need you to tell me what—”

You were interrupted by Aziraphale’s lips crashing into yours once again, this time with much more urgency, like he was trying to answer you with the kiss. Before you could sink into the kiss, he pulled away, his eyes wide.

“Of course that’s what I want, my darling. I will stay by your side for as long as you will have me. I love you too, and I am so very sorry for everything—” You stopped him with a finger to his lips.

“Shh. I said I don’t want to talk about that right now.” You dropped your hands and grinned. “Well, I suppose you’ll be stuck with me forever then.”

The smile that Aziraphale gave you was so utterly pure that it almost broke your heat.

“Then I suppose I am fortunate that there’s no one else I’d rather be stuck with, aren’t I?”

________________________________________________________________

The swap had gone perfectly. Each side was completely bamboozled by their trick, and equally terrified of the possibilities it implied. Crowley had been absolutely chuffed at how well his plan had gone off. Aziraphale was equally pleased to be done with the whole situation—that is, at least until the next Big Thing showed itself. But for now, everything was put to rights.

Nearly everything, that is.

Crowley hadn’t even needed to ask before dropping Aziraphale off at your apartment, where they had left you. Even after your conversation on the airfield, Aziraphale could feel his nerves skyrocket as Crowley pulled into park in front of the building. He tried to even his breathing, but it didn’t seem to be working.

“Angel, you’re going to hyperventilate” said Crowley, unhelpfully. Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I know that, thank you.” Aziraphale loved Crowley, he really did, but sometimes the Demon’s lack of a bedside manner really irritated—oh. Aziraphale looked down to wear Crowley had put his hand on top of Aziraphale’s trembling one. He looked over at his friend, whose head was turned away from Aziraphale, towards the driver side window.

“Listen, Angel. You’ve made a lot of mistakes. I’m frankly surprised that she still wants you after everything—” Aziraphale yanked his hand out from under his friend’s and moved to get out of the car.

“Really, Crowley, you’re not helping.”

“No, Aziraphale, listen to me.” Crowley sounded annoyed now, and when Aziraphale looked back at him, the Demon was staring back at him.

“She loves you. Despite everything that has happened, she wants to stay with you. That means a lot, Angel. You’ve got something real special with her, you know. Almost as special as us. I know you’ll want to have a therapy sesh with her, but promise me you’ll hold off on that until you’ve had a proper reunion alright? She just needs you to be with her right now. She doesn’t need Aziraphale the Angel, she needs her Azi. Make sense?”

Aziraphale didn’t notice until Crowley stopped talking, but he had apparently started crying during Crowley’s speech, and now he reached up to wipe his tears away. On pure impulse, he reached out to pull his oldest friend into a tight hug, putting all of his love and gratitude into the embrace. After a few moments, he felt Crowley awkwardly tap his shoulder and Aziraphale pulled back, knowing how important personal space was to the other being.

“Thank you, dear boy.” With that, he got out of the car and headed to the apartment, pausing to wave goodbye to Crowley. Aziraphale took a deep breath and rung the bell to your flat.

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#mine #Aziraphale #aziraphale x reader #aziraphale imagine #crowley #good omens

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hms-no-fun · 10 months

Note

14 again, but this time “Meat or Candy” interpreted as narrative philosophies rather than the halves of the epilogues

aghhh this is so mean!!! i've always read the meat/candy dichotomy as sides of the same coin rather than two discrete narrative philosophies, and homestuck itself as a structural exploration of various ways to balance/unbalance the split. picking between one or the other is like picking between air & water!

i certainly write godfeels with an eye towards finding a balance. serious drama needs to be offset by goofy comedy, cool anime fight scenes need to be offset by cursed bullshit or drydick exposition. chapter 8 especially is meant to be a tonal roller coaster. 'the shadows left behind' for instance is an almost 40,000 word long section about a depressed idea slowly clawing back personhood from their out of control death drive. there's murder attempts, there's suicide attempts, there's gore, there's psychological torture-- it's some of the heaviest shit i've ever written! and yet that same chapter also contains some of the funniest shit i've ever written. a story like this NEEDS that kind of variation to maintain reader interest, otherwise you get bogged down in seriousness or get so sucked up into lightheartedness that you lose all sense of substance.

like that's very much the reason ch8 ends with an epilogue full of jargon and exposition and obtuse metaphysics. i knew, at the close of ch8 act 5, that we were finally opening the door to what i consider The Good Shit. but it wouldn't be right to jump straight from that endpoint to where 3.2A begins. from an archival reading perspective, you need a palate cleanser to pull you back out from the thick of it and re-examine everything that just occurred from the outside. within the rest of ch8 there is a constant ebb and flow between meat tendencies and candy tendencies; what the epilogue reveals is that it was all candy in some sense, because it was functionally one extremely long action scene. it does this by serving as the meaty parallel, something much closer in tone and purpose to the author-insert sections of homestuck proper. it's meant to feel tedious and tantalizing at the same time, something you have to eat slowly and chew on to properly digest after the insane fast pace of [s] saturday. and even the epilogue swings back and forth between funny and serious! it's meat/candy all the way down!!

i suppose like any red-blooded american of the toonami generation, i have the most fun as a writer when i'm indulging myself in the candy of dumb anime bullshit. most of 'the shadows left behind' was back-constructed from the scene where Dare's "body" gets impaled and cut to shreds by X and they just keep walking towards it anyway. especially that moment where X tries to swallow them a second time, and Dare grabs it by the jaws and throws it off-- that whole sequence popped into my head and suddenly it clicked for me, oh shit, Dare is the secret shonen anime protagonist of godfeels! everything beforehand was a prelude to that moment when June really sees Dare for the first time, asks if they're real, and they shout defiantly, YES!!!

probably every writer does this to an extent, where they write towards some cool/interesting shit they can't get out of their head. there's a temptation to just go there, just get to the good stuff, because ultimately it's what you're there for and you KNOW the audience is gonna lap it up. but if you give in to that temptation and just string together all those keystone moments with bare-minimum bridging material, you paradoxically rob those moments of all their meaning and energy. did 'the shadows left behind' need to be 40,000 words long in one go? probably not. but i don't think the final culmination of that story would have hit nearly as hard otherwise.

you need meat to sell the candy. i wanted 3.2 A1 for instance to be much shorter than it wound up being, because god damn it i want to get to The Good Shit already!! but i realized very quickly that everything i wanted to get to would be poorly served by a cast of characters whose reasons for participating are murky at best. so i decided to invest in more of those meaty chapters between jade and various characters, which themselves needed their own fluctuating balance between meat tendencies and candy tendencies. from a structural standpoint it sort of becomes a meat/candy fractal, as each subdivision of each narrative unit has to maintain the same relative push-pull frequency that the entire fic as a whole does. does that make sense? i have no idea if that makes sense lmao.

anyway that's my take on the meat/candy split. hope it was satisfying u_u

#sarahposts #homestuck #homestuck epilogues #godfeels #meat #candy

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dp-marvel94 · 1 year

Text

Face to Face- Chapter 54

Summary: When Danny went through the ghost catcher, he expected to be cured of the ghostliness that had haunted him since the accident, not to wake up on the lab floor with his parents saying he’d been overshadowed but everything’s back to normal now. But why does Danny Fenton cry himself to sleep to then dream of flying? Why does Phantom, the ghost who was supposedly possessing Danny remember a life that wasn’t his? Most of all, why do both the human and the ghost feel that something vital is missing, in their very soul? Or: Trying to cure himself of his powers one month after the accident, Danny accidentally splits himself but neither his ghost nor his human half know that that is what they did

First -> Last -> Next

Word Count: 7,517

Also on AO3 and Fanfiction.net

Note: Finally! The much awaited (for me at least XD) concert chapter! This is probably the most self indulgent thing I have ever written. 😅😳

Seriously though, I put so much time and thought into this love letter to my two favorite things: Danny Phantom and Christian rock. 😂 I hope ya'll enjoy it just a fraction of the amount I did writing it.

(And on a serious note. A warning for some minor religious references and discussion here- the name of Jesus in a reverent context, a character asks another if they would like to be prayed for. I wrote a very long post on Tumblr going to more detail on some of these and my reasons for including them. See the link in the end note.)

Excitement grew, buzzing in Danny’s chest as everyone piled into the GEV. Even Jazz.

The boy raised a brow at his sister. “I figured you’d wanna stay home and read about the psychology of troubled teens or something.”

The red-head rolled her eyes at the comment. She shook her head. “Spike is going. He’s really into the metal scene and I thought going myself might be informative.”

Dad glanced back. “Is that your boyfriend, Jazzirencess?”

Jazz blushed. “We’re just friends, Dad.”

The parents exchanged looks, saying nothing else on the topic. Instead the conversation shifted, back towards the subject of the concert.

“Danny, sweetie. Who are we seeing again?”

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

Less than ten minutes later, the group arrived at the park. Dad pulled into a parking spot and turned the vehicle off. The teens were out almost before the van even stopped and practically run across the grass.

There was the stage, set up the field where Sam, Tucker, and his two halves had played frisbee golf on Thursday. Danny stopped a dozen feet away, just staring for a long moment. Not even four days ago he’d fought a dragon here. Signs of the struggle still mard the area: patches of dead grass, a few fallen trees, and –Danny winced at the sight– the destroyed bathrooms, bared off the caution tape. A row of Port-a-Potties has been set up in their stead.

The sound of a guitar broke through Danny’s thoughts. “Feels like I'm stuck. Going nowhere fast.” An older teenage girl was singing while playing. “My life is on the line. I'm running out of time.” The instrument suddenly cut off. Then her voice pitched down, speaking normally. “I’m gonna need more guitar in my ears.” A few more strums. “Perfect.” She glanced over at another teen, holding a bass. “Maggie?”

Beside Danny, Tucker leaned in, right next to his ear. “They’re sound checking!” The half ghost could practically hear the stars in his friend’s eyes.

“We’re listening to GFM sound check!” Danny felt just as giddy.

More strumming instruments, banging on the drums, growling and yelling into the mic. “Mic check! One, two, three! Can you hear me?!”

“Yeah!” Woah!” The few people already gathering in front of the stage yelled an affirmative.

“Sounds good, CJ.” The bassist backed up from the mic, leaving her instrument on a stand. “Let’s get dinner.”

“Pizza!” There was a cheer from the drum set.

The other two band members, all sisters if Danny remembered, left the stage, now empty of people.

Sam tugged on her friends’ arms. “Let’s scope out merch.”

The three hurried over to the merch tables, the group clustered under a tent. First GFM’s merch table, all black and pink and green. Shirts and tank tops. A jersey and hoodie. Wristbands and stickers. Pins. Even a skateboard- with cupcakes and a cheerleader in a black and pink cheer outfit with fishnets.

“I want one of everything.” The goth gushed.

Next Relent’s table- black cloth covered the table, displaying fewer options but no less enticing.

Danny eyed one particular shirt.

Tucker pointed. “Dude, check it.” The shirt showed a typical, if spooky, bed-sheet ghost, the scene complete with the band name, fire, lightning, and little bats.

“I’m so tempted.” The half ghost grinned.

Then Protest’s. A huge banner with the band’s logo hung on a frame, shirts displayed around it. In front of that was a table with posters, cds, stickers, and other offerings. A man with long brown hair and an upper arm tattoo was hanging up one last jacket.

“That’s a sick zip-up.” Tucker commented.

The man turned around…. He looked vaguely familiar. “Thanks man. My bro designed it.” He pointed to another man, a few tables down who was talking to some other people. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m-” He held out his hand to Tucker, only to be interrupted.

“Joshua Bramlett!”

The four turned, only to see-

“Grandma?!” Sam’s eyes crinkled in disbelief of the old woman zooming across the path in her electric wheelchair.

The man’s (presumably Joshua) eyes lit up behind his glasses. “Miss Ida!” He stepped around the group, bending over to hug the woman as her chair stopped. “How have you been?!”

The trio of teens stared, confused. “What is happening right now?” Danny asked.

Meanwhile, the bearded man and Sam’s grandma chatted. “These old joints are acting up. But I wasn’t going to miss seeing you boys for the world.” She patted his hand. “You have to meet my granddaughter.”

Grandma Ida wheeled forward, the man walking back to the trio with her. “This is Sam.” The old woman introduced.

“I’m Josh.” The man offered his hand with a smile.

“Sam.” The goth nodded, accepting the gesture.

“Tucker.”

“Danny.”

Two more hand shakes were given.

Josh then lowered his hands, putting them in his pockets. “Have you ever seen us before?”

“Us?” Danny raised a brow and the man motioned to the banner. “Oh.” The boy blushed. “You're in the band.” That really should have been obvious; hadn’t he seen him on the flier for this very show?

Josh chuckled, giving a shrug. “I sing for The Protest.” The words were so casual, “Are you excited for the show?” and the question eager and genuinely interested.

The half ghost instinctively felt himself relaxing. “Yeah! We’ve been talking about this for weeks.”

“Me and the boys will be sure to put on a good one for you.” He chuckled, before pointing back at the stage. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got more set up to do. I’d love to talk to you guys more after.”

Sure enough, Josh turned and walked away. The three teens stopped, watching for a long moment.

“He seems nice.” Tucker commented.

“That young man’s one of the sweetest, most genuine people you’ll ever meet.” Grandma Ida nodded, eyes twinkling with her smile.

“Who you’ve apparently met before?” Sam frowned down, hands on her hips. “You know the Protest’s lead singer. How come you haven’t taken me to see them before?”

The old woman just shrugged, a mischievous look flickering across her face. Then her eyes lit up, gaze flickering to something near the stage. “Is that Marco Pera I see?!” She called out. “Don’t you run off now! Come talk to Grandma Ida.” The old woman wheeled off, leaving the three teens behind.

The goth lowered her hands to her sides, mouth open. “Unbelievable.”

Danny tugged her arm, diverting her attention. “Come on. There’s another table.”

Sam turned back. Her brow furrowed. “I thought there were only three bands playing.”

Tucker shrugged, leading his friends to the table. Sure enough, there was more merch displayed.

“They have everything.” Danny’s eyes widened. Bags, CDs, posters, stickers, and pins were typical fare. But there were shirts in just about every color, not just black or gray. Keychains and coasters. Wristbands too. Even jewelry, bracelets that looked like they were made of leather.

“You should get that one, Sam.” Tucker pointed teasingly at a pink leather bracelet with the band’s name.

The goth rolled her eyes, giving the technogeek a punch on the arm.

“Hey!” Tucker protested.

Sam ignored him, instead reading the writing on the banner behind the table. “Chaotic Resemblance. Who are these guys anyway? They’re not on the flier.”

“We got added last minute.” A blond man, late twenties with a lip ring, looked up from his phone, putting the device in his pocket. “We’re good friends with the guys in the Protest and playin’ a few hours away tomorrow.” The man shrugged. He had an odd accent Danny couldn’t quite place. “Figured we could swing by.”

“Cool.” Danny said with a slight smile. He had no idea who this band was but the prospect of hearing cool, new music was always exciting.

Briefly, names were exchanged; the man’s name was Travis, yet another lead singer. He asked the trio if they’d heard of any of the other bands playing today and who they were excited to see.

“GFM.” Sam’s eyes sparkled. “I’ve been following their vlog for like a year now. The music kicks ass. And their music videos! I love the one for SMILE.” She stopped, blushing in seeming embarrassment from the rant. “So, yeah. I’m excited.”

Travis laughed, expression open and kind, before asking Tucker and Danny the same question. The technogeek mentioned reading a review of The Protest’s new ep on a music website he liked and listening to the songs a bunch. And Danny…

“Relent’s super cool. Sam introduced them to me, since they’re on that same label GFM used to be on.” He blushed, cheeks scrunching up with his smile. “I’ve listened to the new cd like a hundred times. Especially Ghost and Heavy.” Just a hint of sadness brushed his mind at the thought of that second one. “I… really like those songs.”

“You’ve gotta learn the words, right.” Tucker elbowed him playfully.

The halfa just felt more embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well uh…”

“Don’t be embarrassed.” Travis leaned forward, a conspiratory twinkle in his eye. “Let me tell you a secret. We love it when fans know the words.”

“Really?” Danny asked hesitantly.

“Yep.” The man nodded. “So you better sing really loud for those guys.” The half ghost nodded eagerly. Then, suddenly strumming sounded from the stage. Travis’ head jerked in the direction. “Oh, we’re sound checking. I have to go. It was great talking to you.”

Again, the trio watched him go. And Danny’s shoulder untensed. He felt better, embarrassment and lingering sadness gone. He knew all the words to Heavy because, well… he’d listened… and cried through the song many times. It’s not like anyone could blame him, right? The last two months had been the hardest of his life. But he’d gotten through it. He’d learned and he’d grown. And that song had been a tiny part of that.

Shaking the thought away, the trio of friends returned to their spot near the front. On the way they passed Danny’s mom and dad, both seated in their camping chairs with what looked like a few other parents. Jazz and a teen with black spiky hair and a nose ring stood on the other side of the stage, a little ways back.

The trio stood in front of the stage, excitement building as the band checked their sound. Minutes later, the musicians walked off, leaving the stage bare and ready. Music crackled to life on the speakers. Pre Recorded but familiar, fast paced and energetic, from bands Danny recognized. Anticipation grew.

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

The shadows were lengthening now, the golden light of late afternoon bathing the scene. The wind blew gently, not too hot or too cold. And the crowd gathered, people packing closer together near the stage. The half ghost’s heart fluttered with excitement. The show must be starting soon…

A cheer rang out around him. The boy looked up.

“Who’s ready to rock?!” It was an older man, maybe ten years older than his dad, bald but with a big, wispy beard and tattoos in a biker jacket. “I’ve always wanted to say that.” He chuckled. “I’m Dave. I’ve been volunteering with Guardians of the Children for ten years now. We’re so excited to have all of you guys here today. ‘Specially these awesome bands on the Gotta Rock ‘em all Tour.”

Another cheer rose up and Dave clapped. “Yeah! Give it up for these dudes.”

“Woo!!” Danny yelled, voice joining his friends.

More clapping and cheering… slowly the sound died down.

The older man pointed. “Later, one of my buddies is goin’ to tell you all about what we Guardians do. But now… are you ready to have your faces melted!?”

“Yeah!” “Woo!” “Yeah!” The half ghost caught a glimpse of Sam, her fists already in the sky. Tucker, mouth open to yell.

“Our first band wasn’t originally planned to be here. They’re on their own tour now but makin’ a special trip to see us. I love these guys. If you’re in my generation, you’re in for a treat.” Dave’s eyes sparkled knowingly. “Give it up for… Chaotic Resemblance!”

To cheers, the band sauntered onto stage, one by one. The drums pounded, cymbals clashing. Then the bass, an easy strum. The guitar, with a flourish and…

“How are we doing, Amity Park?!” Travis ran onto stage, now in a jean vest with studs and hair unbound.

The first song started, unfamiliar words fast. The guitars slung notes, fast and driving. The singer’s voice rose, high and resonating, with a twang.

Danny bobbed his head, a smile growing as he listened. The sound tickled his ears. This was cool! Not his typical style for sure. Maybe it was closer to something he’d heard his parents listening to…?

A hint of a bridge. The guitar solo. On stage, hair flew. The song swept up.

Around the half ghost, the crowd was swept up with it. Danny’s heart beat faster, hair flopping on his forehead with his movement.

The chorus, on final time….

“It's time we break!” Travis half-sung, half-yelled. “The identity crisis toda-ay!” The note held out, long high and reverberating. Instruments clashed, one finally flurry of head-banging.

With a final shout, the sound died…. And the crowd cheered.

“Yeah!!” The halfa clapped, the motion big and exuberant.

One voice rose above the rest. “Woah! Radical, dudes!”

Danny looked back, cheeks bright red. That was his dad, hands up and grinning like a mad man.

On stage, Travis chuckled, pointing. “Thank you, sir.”

The half ghost face palmed….

The show rolled on, embarrassment long forgotten.

“We’ve got one last song!” The singer started. “Thanks for having us.” A cheer from the crowd. The guitars started shredding. “We love you guys. God bless.” A final yell. “Let’s start a riot!”

Travis pumped the air with a fist. “Hey! Hey! Hey!”

Soon the crowd was copying….

Jumping. Hair slinging. Figuring out what to do during the song was natural, the crowd moving as one.

“This is the Riot Anthem!”

“Riot! Riot!” The boy’s heart pumped, grinning.

“Our final call to action!”

“Riot! Riot!” He shouted, fist punching the sky…

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

The set ended but the show went on, Relent playing next, just as the sun was starting to set.

“What you're about to see is not for free. No, I ain't got time for apologies!” Danny spat the words to the much loved song. “I'm a south boy killa. No scope headshot winner.” Screaming. “I can feel something staring at me!”

Bouncing, the half ghost’s spirit soared.

But the next song was Heavy. “I wrote this song based on my wife’s story. She’s been through so much. So many horrible, painful things. But she’s come out victorious.” The singer’s eyes flicking over the crowd. “So I hope her story helps people. I hope it helps you remember you’re not alone. And it helps you find the strength to break the silence and talk about the things that aren’t talked about enough.”

The drums pounded, slow and steady. The emotional words rang out. “I cannot take the pressure. This feels like forever…”

Danny sang along, vision threatening to blur….

The singer fisted the mic, eyes closed. “Look what you did to my soul. Look at the size of the hole.” He lamented. Tears collected in the corners of the half ghost’s eyes. “Why do I, why do I, why do I feel so heavy?”

The song trickled to a stop and Danny’s heart squeezed. He whipped the tears away….

One final Relent song. The music pounded. Danny jumped and head-banged, excitement returning. His head swung at the bridge, the best part of the song. He sung. “Time’s up! What! What! What! Welcome to the-”

A puff of cold air. Danny stumbled to a stop, looking side to side. His eyes caught on… he blinked. A young man with sandy blond hair, a leather jacket. Was that… the motorcycle ghost he saw in the Zone?

Nervous curiosity squirmed in Danny’s gut as the set ended with a bang. The instruments pounded as the people cheered. With waves, the band left the stage.

The half ghost glanced back, his eyes meeting the other ghost’s. The biker raised an eyebrow. Danny turned back to the front, biting his lip. He should probably go talk to the guy. There was a little time before GFM started.

He tapped on Sam’s shoulder who turned as he leaned closer. “Save my spot. Be back soon.” The goth’s brow furrowed for just a second. Then Danny muttered. “Ghost.” He vaguely motioned with his head.

With no more discussion, he ran off, weaving through the crowd. Sure enough… there was the biker ghost. Johnny? That was what the green haired woman he’d been with before had called him, right? Quickly, Danny approached, half a dozen questions buzzing in his head. But what came out of his mouth…

“You should put that thing out.” His eyes narrowed at the death stick in Johnny’s hand. “Don’t you know cigarettes can kill you?”

The older ghost burst out laughing. “Shit, kid.” He dropped the cigarette, the object disappearing into mist as it fell. “How can you even see me?”

“You’re standing right in front of me.” The halfa raised a brow, arms crossed.

“I’m invisible.” He rolled his eyes like it was obvious. “You a medium or something?”

“A medium? What-”

“Shit, I’ve seen you before.” The biker interrupted, snapping his finger. “You look like that twelve year old who was looking for his Mama.”

“I’m fourteen!” Danny bared his teeth. A cold feeling flickered in his eyes, green light swirling in them.

“Holy….” The other ghost’s eyes widened. “I thought you were the live twin to your dead bro. But… holy f-king hell….” He pointed. “You’re a halfa.”

Said halfa dropped his arms. “What… How?… I just flashed my eyes and knew it like that?”

“I felt it, now that I’m actually lookin’ at ya…” Somehow, Johnny’s eyes widened more. “How come I didn’t feel it before?”

Danny blushed. “That’s complicated…” He shook his head. “What are you doing here?” The question was curious, just a hint of suspicion.

“Watching a show.” He motioned to the stage, matter-of-fact. “Me and Kitten stumbled on a natural portal. Thought we’d have a bit of fun.” He leaned forward, voice lowering. “She’s good about knowing how long one’s gonna be open. Said we’ve got ‘til midnight.”

Danny’s brow furrowed. So that was apparently a thing…? But he didn’t ask. Instead he looked side-to-side…. “Where is she?”

“Snooping around backstage.” The other ghost grinned, mischievously, a hint of sharp teeth flashing.

New suspiciousness flashed in his eyes. A desire flickered- to get the thermos and catch the two ghosts before anything happened. But…. the boy sighed. Johnny was just standing here, watching the show like any other concert goer. He sounded like he was enjoying the music. Maybe Danny could hope….

Danny rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Can you at least try not to cause trouble?”

“Trouble?” The man laughed. “We won’t do nothing too bad.” He winked. “Besides, I’m digging these guys… and girls?” His eyes widened slightly, set on something behind. Probably GFM getting on stage. He shook his head, expression just a bit more genuine. “Believe me, the last thing I want is to stop the party.”

At that, Danny sighed. Behind him, cheers started. “Great. I’ll be near the front. Have fun.” He started turning to leave. “And really, don’t try anything. My parents are ghost hunters after all.” He pointed a thumb to the two Fentons adults, standing in front of their chairs. “You saw that big gun my Mom had in the Realms? She knows how to use it. And…” He flashed his eyes. “My folks aren’t the only ones’ armed.”

For a second, Johnny’s face paled, nervousness flickering across it. Then he smirked, summoning another cigarette with a flick of his fingers. “Alright, kid.” Burgeoning respect shone in those eyes. “See you ‘round.”

Danny ran back to the front, pushing through the crowd. In front of him, pink-colored smoke still shot up from the stage. He arrived at his spot just as Maggie ran on stage.

“What is up Amity? I need you all to make some noise for me tonight!” Arms spread, head back, the teen brought the mic to her mouth and growled….

“Don’t tell me to! Don’t tell me to! SMILE.” A guttural yell.

Hair flying. The crowd chanted around him. “S.M.I.L.E. Why don’t you smile for me?”

His feet pounded, his heart pounded, sweat running down his back. Beside him, Sam spat the words; he could almost hear her growling along. Tucker banged his head, glasses hanging on for dear life. Even so, his friends’ faces shone with gleeful happiness.

The second verse swung around, the chorus again. Danny’s mind filled up with the words, the rhythm. No room for anything more than the sheer exuberance.

The guitar and bass cut off, drums pounding the beat. “Okay, everyone settle down. Boys and girls, are you ready?” The guitarist, CJ, more chanted than sung.

The crowd clapped and yelled, hands in the air.

“LuLu, are you ready?” Pointing at the drummer. “I know I’m ready!” With a grin. “Maggie, are you ready?” Voice pitched up, a performatively raised brow. “Maggie?”

A pause. The audience held their breath, gripped with anticipation and...

“Go!” A growl from said teen. The breakdown hit.

And the crowd lost it. Jumping. Headbanging. Pushing and shoving. Moshing. The horde jolted. Someone ran past Danny. And…. they were circling?! The half ghost grinned manically.

“Jack!”

His ears twitched at the cry. A look back, eyes widened. And… Danny just about felt his soul leave his body. His Dad… his dad was in the circle pit. A flash of worry. But the man was keeping up no problem, sure on his feet.

Danny chuckled, turning back to the front as the last chorus started. His voice joined the rest. At least his dad was having fun….

“Anyone want cupcakes?!” Maggie yelled.

This was it, the last song! And there they were: clear plastic containers with neon-frosted confections. The famed cupcakes!

“Misery loves company, I bet you're fun at parties.” Cupcakes flew. “Chasing after all the things you think will make you happy.” Instinctively, Danny ducked. “You've been played so many times, you'd make the perfect barbie.” The sugary goodness rained down. “Pretend your life's a fairytale, the story's getting boring….” The guitar sped up, fingers flying across the cords.

Adrenaline rushed through his veins, heart pounding a mile a minute. He sang his lungs out. “I don’t need your fantasy!”

Beside him, Sam’s eyes shone with passion, a balled fist to the sky. “'Cause I'm gonna say, gonna say what I wanna say…”

A cupcake nailed her in the shoulder, pink icing smearing across her shirt and face. Danny laughed, pointing. The shocked look on her face!

“…my voice. You can't take it away!”

Something chocolate brown and blue flew at his face. The half ghost flailed to catch and…

“You can’t!”

Blue icing coated his hands. He dropped the cupcake…

“You can’t! You can’t!”

Right into Tucker’s hands. The technogeek smirked, taking a huge bite.

Danny lost it, bursting out laughing. Mind, body, heart, and soul wrapped up, caught up in the moment. Just him and the beat. The stickiness on his hands. His grinning, screaming, laughing friends. The press of the crowd around him. The words pouring out of his mouth.

“This is my life, my voice. You can't take it away!”

His core sang, buzzing inside him. This. This right here. It was amazing, incredible, perfect. The feeling almost euphoric.

This is awesome! The words were more yelled in his head than thought. An almost physical thing, like throwing the idea with his mind to-

“Misery loves company, I bet you're fun at parties.” Sam’s jump sent her careening into him. “Chasing after all the things you think will make you happy!” She’s never looked so happy to be wearing pink.

The breakdown. Tucker’s flailing arm jolted his side, icing smeared around the technogeek’s mouth.

“Now, you’ll see… I don’t need your fantasy!” With bared teeth, head raised to the sky, Danny had never felt so alive….

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

The set ended with a bang, the clashing of instruments as people cheered. The three sisters left the stage. The previous soundtrack started again, so much quieter than the live music. The half ghost almost felt the crowd breath out, decompress as one of the Guardian of the Children volunteers came up to speak. The mass of people shifted, the space for moshing filling in as some snuck closer to the front and others left. Jazz and Spike drifted closer, standing right beside Danny and his friends.

Danny took a breath, whipping his sweaty forehead.

His sister laughed, giving him a knowing look.

The boy raised a brow. “I’ve got icing on my face now, don’t I?”

“Yep.” Jazz’s tone was full of teasing.

“You want some?” With a grin, the little brother swiped for her.

“Danny!” The older teen shrieked, jumping away.

“Come on! Let me give you a high five!” He reached again.

Jazz weaved, dodging. “No!”

“Come on!” Danny got her right in her face.

“Ew! It’s sticky!” The girl fished in her bag, pulling on a sleeve of wet wipes. Frustiously, she whipped at the blue frosting. “Here, you heathen.” She shoved the package at her brother.

The boy rolled his eyes but obliged, whipping his hands. It did feel nice to get the sticky feeling off them.

A sudden screeching sound through the mic brought Danny’s attention back to the speaker.

The older man speaking smiled sheepishly. “Got too close to the mic there. As I was saying…”

What was the man saying? Danny should probably pay attention…

The boy shuffled foot to foot, watching, listening. He was getting tired from standing here so long. And thirsty. He’d sung, and screamed, and sweated a lot. He glanced back, wanting to go get some water. But his coveted spot…

Another screech. Danny’s gaze jolted back, focus returned. The mic was giving the guy problems, huh? He watched the stage, the lights slowly brightening in the growing darkness. It was well past sunset now. A flicker of movement below the stage caught Danny’s attention. Some thing darted by, dark and strangely formless. That was weird…

A few more minutes and the volunteer finished speaking, leaving the stage. The soundtrack returned as the lights on the stage dimmed.

Danny’s insides fluttered, anticipation rising again. He was still tired, previous emotional high lessened. But the last band was about to come on soon! The headliner!

Beside him, Tucker shook with excitement. “Oh, man. This is gonna be awesome.”

Danny nodded. The lights shifted, spot lighting the drums. And…

“Make some noise, Amity!” Josh ran on stage, jumping. “I wanna see you on your feet!”

The music rumbled and the crowd obeyed. A roar from the background track. Josh fisted the mic and growled. “I caught you like the monster hiding under my bed. Now I’m gonna rip you right out of my head! Like a baseball to the side of the face, I’ll make you disappear without a trace.” Heads bobbed, hands raised. “The match is in my hand… The match is in my hand!” The crowd shook, starting to jump. “You’re just a paper!”

A deafening pop and sound and lights died.

“A paper tiger!” The last yelled words sounded, only audible because of how close Danny was to the stage.

For a few more seconds, the crowd continued jumping, the band still trying to play as Josh sang without amplification . “Nothing more than a… silver tongued… liar?”

But the movement stalled, fizzling out. The half ghost stumbled to a stop, brow furrowing in confusion. Around him the crowd started to murmur.

On stage, the guitarist closest to the trio, short cropped hair and bare faced in a tank top, stummed, no sound coming through the speaker. His head turned toward the others already gathering around the drum set. “Did we just lose power?”

The drummer shrugged. One of the lights flashed on, randomly swiveling on its display. The spotlight shone right in the short haired musician’s face. “Woah!” He closed his eyes, head jerking away. The sound echoed out. The man blinked. “Hey, the mic’s back.”

More strumming attempts. Josh tried his mic again, lowering it with a confused look. The drummer motioned to something on the laptop set up beside the kit.

The guitarist turned his attention back to the audience. “Well, that’s how you know it’s live and we’re not just playing over a recording.” He laughed, strumming his guitar and making a face. “Anyone want to hear a joke?”

Under the stage something black flickered again. Danny titled his head, brow furrowed.

“What's a vampire's favorite kind of candy?” He gave a pause for effect, murmurs of question coming from the audience. Then… "A sucker."

Around him, people chuckled lightly, several groaning at the bad joke. On stage, the man continued. “There’s more where that came from. What do….”

The words drifted over Danny’s head, unable to keep his attention. Instead, his focus was on a… weird, unnaturally dark shadow. It undulated, half-slinging-half-crawling in the recesses under the stage.

Another electric pop. The lights swiveled.

Danny almost swore he heard laughter….

The half ghost’s head turned side to side, looking. Was… no one else really seeing this?

The creature…. The ghost (it must be another ghost, with the way his ghost sense was swirling in his throat) chuckled again, static echoing through the speakers.

A few people winced, covering their ears. “Okay, okay, no more dad jokes.”

Somehow no one was seeing the ghost. How? Other people had been able to see the Lunch Lady and Dora. Wait…. It must have been the partial invisibility like Sidney showed him. But why…

“Hey!” The word was hissed, just a hint of ghostly echo.

Danny’s head jerked, looking for the source of the noise. His gaze scanned the crowd. For just a second, his eyes met his mother’s, her brow wrinkled in concern as she stood up.

Then… his gaze met a wavering, ethereal figure. Johnny…

“Cut it out!” The ghostly man hissed. He drifted forward, unseen by the crowd even as he literally, intangibly floated through them.

Danny’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I’m not doing anything.” He muttered hotly, earning a confused look from Tucker.

The biker ghost “What? No, not-” Another crackle cut off the word, the man covering his ears. His eyes narrowed, fixing on….

The strange embodiment of darkness.

Oh. Danny realized

“Cut it out, Shadow.” The man complained. “I’m actually enjoying this. Go make a kid drop their ice cream or something.”

Danny raised a brow at that last part but Johnny waved him off, attention still on the shadow.

“I’ll bring out the flashlight, man. Just you keep it up and see.” The other ghost threatened.

The living (unliving? undead?) shadow seemed to deflate. With something like a sigh, it zipped off.

The lights came back on. “Hey!” Several positive shouts came from the stage.

“Now we’re getting somewhere!” Danny picked up the words, from the other guitarist and unamplified.

The half ghost turned his attention back to Johnny. “What was that about?” He asked quietly.

The man shrugged. “There’s a reason they call me Unlucky Johnny 13.” He motioned, waving in the general direction the shadow had gone. “Thing’s got a mind of its own.”

That… answered no questions. But the other ghost ignored Danny’s confused look, instead lifting a hand. “There you are Kitty.” His eyes lit up and in a blink, he disappeared, materializing at the green-haired woman’s side seconds later.

Danny just blinked, taking in what had just happened. That was… something.

“...feel like my ears are burning. They’re talking about me, aren’t they?” The words drew the half ghost’s attention back. The guitarist pointed his thumb at his bandmates. “I’m being voted out of the band, aren’t I?” The look was falsely aghast. “This’ll be my last show with the Protest, guys. It’s been fun.”

What the heck had he missed?

Just then, his mom tapped on his shoulder.

Danny turned jerkily, surprised. “When did you get here?”

The woman’s brow furrowed in concern. “You had a strange look on your face. Is everything alright sweetie? ”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” His eyes flickered to the two ghosts standing at the edge of the crowd. The halfa’s voice lowered, stepping closer to the woman. “There’s two ghosts, the biker couple we saw in the Realms. And this weird shadow ghost that was messing with the sound. The dude, Johnny, yelled at it to stop and it flew off somewhere.”

His mom looked in the direction his gaze had flickered. “I can’t see them.”

“I don’t think anyone else can either. Just me.” The boy shrugged. “It’s a ghost thing.”

“What are they doing?” She asked.

“Just watching the show. Johnny said they came through a natural portal and wanted to have some fun.”

Her forehead wrinkled in worry at the statement. “A natural portal again?”

“We’re good to go!” The crowd cheering interrupted Danny’s response. Josh’s words echoed. “Let’s start this again.”

“We can talk later.” Danny had to raise his voice to be heard. Accepting a nod in response, he turned back to the front.

The band was walking off the stage, only to return moments later to cheers.

The instruments pounded. The singer held the mic to his mouth and… “I caught you like the monster hiding under my bed….”

The song started again and Danny jumped, previous confusion and worry quickly forgotten.

“You’re just a paper! A paper tiger! Nothing more than a silver tongued liar! Paper! Paper Tiger! Incinerated by my new found fire!”

The crowd jumped and screamed. Song after song, excitement built.

Josh sang. “You may feel a change but don't be afraid.”

“The transformation has just begun!” The short-haired guitarist quipped with a grin, pointing at the audience….

The words half-chanted. “In the freak show. In the freak show. In the freak show.” Hands flailed, shoulders shook as Danny and his friends danced.

“Your mind will be blown away! Hey!” Each word punctuated by a fist to the sky. “Hey! Hey!”

“Welcome to the Freakshow!” Second chorus ending, the crowd reached a fever pitch.

His heart beating in time with the music, Danny head-banged. His hair flung, dripping with sweat.

Something square and silver at the edge of his vision. Head turned, brow furrowed. His mom had her phone out, lens facing him.

The boy snorted. Sore neck bobbing faster, he stuck out his tongue at her….

In the small break before the next song… “You’re supposed to take pictures of the band, not me!” Danny laughed…

The set forgaged on. Shredding guitars, pounding drums, screamed words. The songs were incredible. And the message in between…

“If you leave here tonight with one thing, know that you are loved so much. Do you guys understand me?” Murmurs of agreement. “So much. You have no idea.” Josh’s eyes were wide and earnest, so much conviction behind the words. “After we’re done playing tonight, we will be over at the merch tent. Please come talk to us. You are looking at four sinners so we don’t have all the answers, I promise you that. We don’t. We would love to hear your story. We’d love to pray with you. We’d love to talk with you. That’s why we’re here. That’s why all of these bands are here, why we drove hundreds of miles to be here today. To share the hope that we have in Jesus. We love you guys so so much. Come hang out with us. We’ve got a few more for you….”

Danny’s heart squeezed, something deep in him touched by the words. He didn’t know about all of this, but that offer… to be heard, to be listened to. There were plenty of things he couldn’t say but…

Another song started. By now, the almost euphoric excitement had smoothed, lessened, morphed into a more quiet, heartfelt joy. Even still, the words sent goose bumps over the half ghost’s arm.

“This is the time for life revolution

Setting a course to reclaim the broken.

We look to find those lost in the night.

Following hearts that lead like a compass

Fire will rise and we let it guide us.”

The singer leaned over the crowd and the half ghost sang, his soul pouring into each syllable. “Despite the pain, we’ll stay unbroken.”

Each voice ringing in harmony, brown eyes and blue eyes met. Something in Danny’s chest fluttered, breathless and awed. He could never describe the feeling, not completely. But when gazes met… belief resonated. Both meant every single word….

To cheers, the set ended. The lights dimmed as people started walking away. And for a long moment, Danny stood in front of the stage, eyes wide and heart light. That amazed feeling stirred…

“We need to get a picture!” Jazz’s hand on his shoulder drew him out of himself.

“Yeah. Go for it.” The boy smiled, letting his sister put her arm around him.

The pair took a selfie, each with matching grins. The red-head lowered the phone. And Danny finally registered his friends and family hovering around him.

“That first band was so good!” His dad gushed. “They’re just like that band I was in in college! Good ol’ Skunk Punks! But they’ve got much better hair. And better lyrics.”

“Your strengths are in things other than lyrical composition, dear.” His mom graciously didn’t speak on the hair comment.

Sam pulled him and Tucker across the grass. “We need to get pictures with everyone! And merch! I want one of like everything.”

“Yes! I need the GFM snapback. Their set was so good!” The technogeek laughed, pointing at the icing staining her shirt. “They got you to wear pink. And.” He puffed out his chest. “I’m the only one who didn’t get icing on them

The goth rolled her eyes but then a mischievous look passed her face. “That’s what you think.”

“What are you- Hey!”

She swiped a glob of crusting icing from her shirt and shoved it at him. “Ha!”

“Not my beret! Sam, how could you!?”

Danny just laughed.

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

Everyone bought merch. The Relent Ghost shirt and a wristband for GFM and The Protest for Danny. For Sam, the pink and black skateboard, a delightfully cute and creepy pink, green, and black shirt, and a bunch of CDs. (“Who even buys CDs anymore? You can just stream that.” Tucker wrinkled his nose. The goth pulled his hand down over his face. “I want to actually support the bands I like, Tucker. Spotify doesn’t deserve a cent.) The technogeek proceeded to buy his own CD and his coveted snapback.

Danny’s parents even got in on the action. Dad apparently bought a Chaotic Resemblance shirt for everyone in the family. And the famed pink leather bracelet.

Pictures were taken with every band.

“A silly one next!” Noses were scrunched up in ridiculous expressions. Two members of the Protest pretended to be punching each other. Danny laughed more still.

Words were exchanged, excited ones about the show….

“Awesome set!” Each GFM member was offered a high five.

More casual ones, about school and interests. (Unsurprisingly Josh and co were very personable.)

“Yeah. I just started ninth grade. It’s going pretty well.” “What’s your favorite subject?” “Science. I’ve always wanted to be an astronaut…”

And somber ones.

The last band Danny got to speak to was Relent. His heart twisted, words lingering heavy on it. You should say something, a voice in him, not audible but very much present, whispered. The ghost boy listened.

“The last few months have been… really hard for me, for a bunch of reasons. But… I’ve listened to your song, Heavy a bunch of times. And it’s really helped me. Like… uhh… when I couldn’t sleep and just wanted to cry. And… yeah. I’ve listened to it alot and all your other songs so…. Thanks for writing them and putting them out. And… uh… thanks for being here tonight.”

Danny looked down, nervousness flopping his stomach.

“That’s why we write songs and tour.” The lead singer (In their introduction, Danny learned his name was Miggy.) “Like I said on stage, I hope that our songs help people. Thanks for telling me, man.” His expression softened, earnest. “Do you mind if I pray for you?”

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

As Danny’s friends and family walked back towards the GEV, the boy lingered for just a moment to look over the field. For just a second, three ghostly figures flickered into existence. Kitty and Johnny, the black shadow curled at the man’s feet, floated in front of the stage, unseen by all except the half ghost. The man nodded in his direction, lifting a cigarette-gripping hand. The green-haired woman waved.

Danny returned the gesture, lips quirking as the couple disappeared. He had a feeling he’d be seeing them again.

With the ghosts gone, the boy turned his attention back to the activity across the field. The bands were still active, packing up instruments and putting them in the vans and buses. Soon enough the stage would be torn down as well, leaving no evidence of the concert that had been here.

Even so, the half ghost’s heavy heart felt lightened. He felt better after talking to Miggy; that had been good for him. The boy sighed. This had been an incredible night.

Sam bumped his shoulder. “Come on. Tucker asked and your dad said he’s taking us to Nasty Burger for shakes.”

It looked like the night wasn’t over yet.

Everyone piled into the GEV and his dad pulled out, leaving the almost empty parking lot. A few minutes later found the trio sitting at a picnic table outside the restaurant, each nursing their own shake.

Chatter batted back and forth, jokes and memories. The three looked through the pictures that had been taken.

“That’s a good one! You got him mid-head bang.” Tucker pointed while he and Danny leaned over Sam’s phone, admiring a picture of Josh Bramlett with his hair spread in a halo above him.

“I love this one.” The goth swiped. This photo was of GFM’s drummer, an excited grin plastered on her face.

“Drummer pics are so hard to get! That’s awesome.” Danny congratulated.

The conversation continued on, milkshakes almost finished and…

The half ghost sighed. “Thanks guys for being there.”

That got him strange looks. “Dude, of course we were going to come to the show with you.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I…” Danny shook his head. He wasn’t exactly sure what prompted this line of thinking but… “I mean…. Thanks for being here for me. With the accident and then splitting myself. I know it’s been hard and you’ve been the best friends I could ask for.” He’d told them as much at Sam’s that day, when they’d convinced Phantom to talk to Fenton about re-fusing and his denial of his death. And even before that…

He blushed. “You guys are the ones who convinced Phantom me to stop denying we were the same person. You guys… you saw me.. You knew me even when I didn’t know myself. So…” He bit his lip. “Thanks for sticking with me,” There in the Hot Topic dressing room, after his ghost self had flown off… “even when I was a jerk to you guys.”

His friends’ expressions softened. “You really don’t have to thank us, Danny. That’s what friends are for.” Sam said.

“Yeah.” Tucker smiled. “We’re your friends. Of course we’ll stick by you. You’d do the same for us.”

Danny sighed, shaking his head. “Like I said, you guys are the best.”

His best friends both reacted out. An awkward group hug… the table in the middle had just their arms touching each other, heads close together. But Danny closed his eyes, heart warm.

This really had been the best day.

End note: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy it. :) As always, feel free to let me know what you liked.

#my fic #face to face #double danny #split danny #danny phantom

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