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triptuckers · 1 year

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enough grief for one lifetime - tech

Request: no Pairing: tech x reader Summary: once again you help the bad batch with their injuries Warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE BAD BATCH S2E15+S2E16, angst, mentions of injuries, blood, broken bones, swearing Word count: 2.7K A/N: there I fixed it.

you told hunter you would always be one comm away. they appreciate your help, but most of the time they're too far away for you to be of any help. it's why they rarely call you.

it's also why you nearly trip over your feet as you sprint to answer them when they do comm you.

'y/n here.' you say.

for a few seconds, you hear nothing but static sounds on the other side. then you hear echo.

'...need your help... went bad... on our way...'

'echo?' you say. 'you're breaking up really bad. how far away are you?'

'...injured... going to... you... tech-'

you hear a faint beep as the comm suddenly ends.

you can feel your heart beating faster. something or someone disconnected the connection you had with the marauder. was it simply a bad connection or was someone jamming their comms? or worse?

and then there is the way echo said tech's name. you knew echo, he knows how to keep his cool in battle. but he said tech's name in a panicked tone.

you don't know how far out they are, but you start preparing straight away. you live on a hot planet, and most of the locals live in huts with a lot of big windows. you've helped most of the locals when they get injured, it's how you met the bad batch in the first place. they got stranded on your planet and sought medical attention.

after your first meeting with them, you always stocked up on medial supplies, just in case. it seemed today is the day you'll need most of them.

you've only just finished setting everything up, when one of the local kids runs into your house.

'y/n! there's a ship approaching!' he says.

you follow him outside and spot the marauder. they're coming in fast, and you anxiously watch as they land none too gently and a bit too close to the village.

as you run up to the marauder, wrecker emerges from the ship, his back to you. you frown and run a little harder. you reach the ship and see that wrecker is carrying one of his brothers.

you feel your heart stop as your eyes land on tech. wrecker has his arms hooked underneath his arms, and echo is carrying tech's legs.

it looks like tech's entire body is bruised and bloody. he looks unrecognisable. one of his eyes is swollen shut, his nose appears to be broken and his lip is cut. he's not even wearing his glasses.

you stand there, rooted to the spot. if he hadn't been wearing his signature armour, and if you hadn't committed his face to your memory, you wouldn't be able to tell it was tech at all.

of course you cared about all of them. even though you didn't see them that much. but it always had been different with tech. you'd never acted on your feelings. afraid of too many things. that it wouldn't work out and it would make things awkward between you, that he didn't feel the same way, that something would happen and that he would leave you behind.

it seems like you should have taken the chance while you still had it. now it might be too late.

you come back to your senses when you spot hunter. he's holding tech's broken glasses in his hands.

'get him to my place.' you tell wrecker. 'I've set everything up already.'

wrecker nods and heads toward your house. you turn to hunter.

'anyone else injured?' you say.

'I've got a few broken ribs. might be some internal bleeding but I can't be too sure. omega took a heavy hit, but at least she can walk for now. I'm sure she's got a pretty serious concussion. you need to look at wrecker's neck and shoulder. echo is fine, he wasn't with us when we fell down. but you need to see to tech first. he's the worst of us all right now.' hunter states.

you're grateful for hunter's quick facts. it helps put you in a concentrated mindset. tech first. then omega, hunter, and wrecker. echo could help you. tech first. tech first. tech...

you nod once at hunter, then take off running toward your house.

once you get inside, you see wrecker and echo have put tech on the makeshift medical cot. they've taken off some of his armour.

'move.' you say.

you may sound harsh, but wrecker and echo know it's because you're focused, and a little stressed. they do as you say so you can quickly assess tech.

he's unconscious, but at least he's still breathing.

your fingers trail over his body. you'd been right about his face, a black eye, broken nose, a cut lip. he doesn't appear to have any more damage to his head, which you take as a good sign. you thank the maker for tech's helmet.

after further assessment, you can tell he's dislocated his left shoulder, and he's broken his left arm. you feel along his ribs and feel a few broken ones, but miraculously he shows no sign of internal bleeding in his chest.

he's broken his left leg the same place you helped set right a while ago. it looks like he fell on his left side, because his left knee is also dislocated.

you straighten your back and look at wrecker and echo. hunter and omega have arrived as well, and omega is worriedly looking at tech.

'echo, you're going to be my assistant today. you do everything I say, understood?' you say, slipping back into the role of the village chief medic.

echo nods. 'yes ma'am.'

'I'll get started on tech. you're going to help wrecker and hunter first, so they can help omega. then you're helping me with tech.' you say. 'first, you need to put a brace on wrecker's neck and check for other injuries. wrecker, you need to make sure you don't move your head and neck too much.'

both echo and wrecker nod at you. as echo moves to help wrecker, you give out the rest of the orders.

'echo, when you're done with wrecker, see to hunter's ribs. get a bandage around his chest nice and tight. but he needs breathing room, so not too tight. hunter, you can then see to omega. make sure she rests enough and drinks enough. when she gets dizzy or lightheaded, come to me immediately. echo, when you've seen to hunter, you help me with tech.' you say.

as they all start following your orders, you focus on tech again.

you take a deep breath. it's alright. just do what you do best.

you start bandaging up his chest. nice and tight, but with breathing room. just like you told echo. one thing at a time. you move to his left shoulder, inspecting it. you'd need echo to hold tech still while you set it right, but he's still busy with the others. you settle with taking a look at tech's leg.

just as you're done with tech's leg, echo is by your side.

'tell me.' he says.

you nod. 'I need you to hold him still while I put his knee and shoulder back.'

echo moves and holds tech's leg steady while you place your hands on his knee.

'one, two, three!'

with one quick movement, you snap tech's knee back in place.

'his shoulder next.' you say.

again, echo holds him while you count down and put tech's shoulder back in place.

a part of you is glad tech is still unconscious. at least he wouldn't actually feel you putting parts of his body back where they belong.

'what next?' says echo.

'I'm going to bind his arm and see to his face.' you say. 'can you get the others to the guest bedrooms? there's also water and food in the kitchen, make sure they eat something. then they need to get some rest.'

echo nods and takes off, getting the others to the bedrooms. you turn back to tech.

you exhale a shaky breath. just a few more, then it would be out of your hands. then all you had to do was stay by his side and wait for him to wake up.

as soon as you start taking care of tech's broken arm, you fall back into an easy routine. you'd taken care of more than one broken arm. it's ironic how you could do the movements in your sleep.

once you've finished with his arm, you finally move to his face.

you take a clean bandage, and use some water to make it damp, so you can clean some of the blood off of tech's face. behind you, you hear footsteps.

'the others are resting. omega is in the big guest room, hunter refused to leave her side so we got some pillows for him. wrecker is already asleep in the other guest room, I'm taking the other cot next to him.' says echo.

'alright.' you say, surprised you can maintain such a steady voice. 'I'm nearly done with tech.'

'you should get some rest as well.' says echo.

'sure.' you say.

you and echo both know you're staying up until tech wakes again.

echo's footsteps trail up the stairs, and you hear a door close in the distance.

you turn back to tech, cleaning his face.

'don't you dare scare me like this again.' you say softly. you're aware tech probably can't hear you. but you need this.

you don't know if you could ever tell him how you felt when you saw his bruised and bloody body in the arms of wrecker and echo. you would have given anything to change places with him.

sometimes you don't understand why you still have hope he could feel the same way about you. but there's always some tiny part of you that stubbornly refuses to believe tech doesn't care about you. maybe it was all foolishness, anyway.

you pull up a chair and sit down next to tech, letting your eyes roam over his face. he didn't look like himself without his glasses. hunter had put them on a table nearby, but they were broken. knowing tech, he could probably fix them. if only he would wake up.

now that echo is gone, you let the tears fall. everything you held back while you worked on tech, it's all coming out now. you sit there in silence, tears streaming down your face. you'd been this close to losing tech. and you wouldn't talk to him because you liked him.

no, you loved him.

holy fuck, you loved tech. maybe deep down you'd known all along. that whatever you felt for him went deeper than just caring about him. you loved him. you'd go crazy if you were to lose him.

'wake up.' you say softly. 'I need you to wake up.'

you sit there for hours. the tears long gone. you're just sitting there, waiting for tech to wake up. at some point in the night, echo had come down to get a glass of water for omega.

he didn't seem surprised to see you awake. instead, after taking the glass of water up to omega, he sat with you. talked with you about tech. what had happened. you just sat in silence and listened.

after a while, echo left again. and your fear and sadness turned to anger.

how could tech have done that? how could he have left his brothers behind like that? he almost left you behind.

you're not even tired anymore. the anger is giving you a new reason to stay awake. you needed tech to wake up so you could ask him why the fuck he would do that.

it's nearly dawn, and you're getting hungry. you get up to get a quick snack from the kitchen, then you return to tech's side.

'what the fuck were you thinking tech?' you mumble softly, as you look a this beaten up face. 'you’ve got people who care about you. do you have any idea what it’s like to lose someone that means that much to you?'

the soft rays of morning sunshine begin to fill the room. you watch tech's chest rise and fall beneath the bandages.

'what the hell were you even thinking.' you mumble. ‘it's like you don't even care about us.'

‘I do care about you all.’

you nearly drop the cup of caf you are holding. surely you didn't hear that right? but when you look at tech's face, you see he's opened one eye. the other is still swollen shut.

'then why the fuck did you do it?' you say.

tech looks confused. it might be because he's still in a lot of pain.

'I do care about you all.' says tech again.

you frown, getting up and stepping closer to him. 'I need to check to see if you haven't gotten a concussion anyway.' you say.

'I do care about you all.' says tech, more firmly this time.

you frown as you look at him.

'oh.'

‘it was the only way they would be able to get to safety.’ says tech.

‘I hate heroes’ you mumble. ‘a lot of heroes go to their deaths for what they think is a noble cause. all it does is cause the people who care about them more hurt. I’ve grieved enough for one lifetime.’

tech blinks slowly, as if staying awake is taking tremendous effort.

‘I will not give you any reason to grieve.’ he says.

‘but you can't promise me that.’ you say, feeling tears well up in your eyes.

‘I can promise you I will do my best to ensure you will never have to grieve the loss of either one of my brothers. or omega. or me.’ says tech.

you quickly wipe away your tears. 'you better do your damn best, you hear me? I was terrified you wouldn't wake up.' you say.

'you look like you haven't gotten any rest.' says tech.

'I didn't. I had to see to everyone's injuries.'

'surely that did not take all night?'

'well, no.'

'then why did you stay awake?'

'I was waiting for you to wake up.'

you look at tech again. there's a look in his eyes you can't quite understand. 'seriously though, don't do that again. I was scared.' you say.

'I will try to be more cautious.' says tech.

'and less heroic.' you say.

'I am a soldier. most soldiers tend to do heroic things.' says tech.

you chuckle softly. 'didn't lose your sense of humour, huh?'

'can I ask you something regarding your medial skills?' says tech.

'sure.' you say.

'how much good can you do in this village? it seems to shrink every time we get here.' says tech.

you shrug. 'that's because it does. most people move to the city, or off-world.' you say. 'in a couple of years this village won't exist anymore.'

'we could use a medic.' says tech.

you slightly raise your eyebrows. 'you're asking me to come with you?' you say.

'yes.'

'shouldn't hunter ask me?'

'I am asking you.'

you smile softly. 'I would go with you.' you say. 'if only to make sure I don't have to set your leg right a third time.' your smile falters slightly. 'why?'

'you said you've seen enough grief for a lifetime.' says tech. 'I simply think you need to balance it out. traveling with us won't be easy, we're still wanted by the empire. but at least you will be with us. people who care about you, instead of staying in a village that's disappearing.'

'if hunter is okay with it, I'll come with you.' you say.

'I'm okay with it.'

you look over your shoulder. 'how long have you been standing there?' you say.

'long enough. welcome to the bad batch.' says hunter. 'echo's making breakfast. I'll make sure he brings two plates here for you.'

'thanks.' you say as hunter leaves.

you turn back to tech. 'looks like you're stuck with me.' you say.

'I don't mind being stuck with you.' says tech. 'and thank you.'

'for what?'

'taking care of me.'

you impatiently wave your hand. 'I'm a medic. it's what I do tech.'

'true. but you did not have to stay with me all night. you have my thanks for that, too.'

'you're welcome, tech. now get some rest.'

A/N:If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Max/Marit

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onehundredandeleventropicalfish · 2 years

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every so often i see people complaining that the rules that govern the endless are unfair and shouldn't exist, and it's always just kinda funny, bc im here like oh you do NOT want to get rid of the rules, trust me

is it unfair that desire gets away with so much bc they're the only one willing to break the rules? yeah, probably. but the solution to that is more rules, not less, because we're dealing with 7 immortal siblings who've been around since the dawn of time and have the maturity levels of teenagers

and in that context all of the rules make so much sense

like there's probably more rules than we know about, but let's focus on the main three - no loving mortals, no interfering in each others' affairs, no spilling family blood

1) endless can't love mortals. the one rule we know was instated later than the rest, almost entirely because of dream. for two reasons. the more obvious is that dream and desire are never gonna stop fighting, and when you put a mortal in the way of that, they are almost definitely gonna get murdered or worse. but also, there's lifespans to consider. not every dead mortal can end up in the dreaming, and not all of them want to. dream dating someone mortal means at some point, he is going to outlive them, that's not in question. and dream... doesn't take loss well. he stood outside in the rain without moving for three weeks when thessaly left, and they'd only been dating a few months. and then we have lucien's word on what happened after nada...

if the dreaming entirely comes to a halt for weeks or years or centuries after a girlfriend leaves him, dream grieving an actual death of a partner is actively dangerous. you can't stop dream from dating, and from those relationships going poorly, but at least it has a much higher chance of being a mutual breakup if death has been taken out of the equation

(and, you know, might as well make it a universal rule, both just in case, and so dream isn't constantly aware that this one was made because of him)

2) no interfering in the affairs of other endless. think, for a second, about the sibling rivalries in this family. and that's just the ones that exist now, when several of them have had a chance to grow up - it's said they were all a lot more immature and prideful, even death, back in the day (she grew into the older sister position).

i saw someone say once that everything in the dcu makes sense when you consider that the universe is being run by seven warring siblings, and honestly i'm inclined to agree! they're all a mess

but at least they're messes that mostly leave each other alone. which means their domains are at least protected by the fact that they all individually care about what they were created to do - there's only one person making decisions and that person generally wants the best for those that enter their domain

death in the show talks about how when she was young, she had a hard time seeing her purpose, because everyone seemed to hate her and she didn't know what to do about it. what she says in the comics is that she did stop. once it really started to get to her, she refused to collect souls. no one and nothing died. and it was only through realising how much more that was hurting the world that she started to learn how to be okay with it

when any of them stop or get distracted or kept away from their jobs, it's the mortals who suffer. and even if they all meant well, which they often don't, have you ever tried running important projects with seven people leading? at best, it slows you down, at worst it can ruin the project entirely. given how much they try to tell each other how to live their lives already, if they were allowed to get up in each others' business, you might as well be jamming up the cogs of the universe

3) can't spill family blood. so, it's easy to look at that and see orpheus, and rose walker, and all the traps that dream almost or did fall into. but as far as i'm aware, other than orpheus and unity's descendants, we don't know of any other kids of the endless, and those were all pretty recent, on a universal scale. honestly, given how dream is the only hopeless romantic of the family, i'd be willing to bet orpheus was the first. so it's extremely unlikely when this rule was put into place that children were on anyone's mind. time and night are on such a cosmic scale of power i don't think even all of the endless combined could kill one of them. which means this rule is about each other

and given everything we just said about interfering with each other, can you imagine if they were allowed to kill each other? because endless reincarnate, death amongst their family would lose all meaning. you could kill one of your siblings for annoying you and get back a potentially less annoying version of them almost immediately. but every time you did that, you'd be disrupting the functions of the universe. and with siblings like dream and desire, who don't see the other's domain as important at all, they wouldn't care. if they'd been doing it since the start, it's possible none of them would see that as a bad thing

you'd have the universe falling apart before it could even really begin. and they might not even notice

#sandman comic spoilers #dream of the endless #death of the endless #desire of the endless #delirium of the endless #destiny of the endless #despair of the endless #destruction of the endless #mine #meta

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forcedhesitation · 16 days

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I definitely do not have the time for a full essay's worth of commentary on the Casting of Frank Stone, but I definitely could give you that if I did. There is...a lot to take apart there. I am certainly...fascinated...by some of the writing & gameplay choices they made, to summarise my thoughts somewhat vaguely.

A few spoilery comments under the cut.

Like I said, I don't really have the time to offer extensive analysis (a full paper) of the game, but I do want to say a few things.

First and foremost: Do not purchase this game. In the words of Mr. Otzdarva himself: Go and watch someone play it instead. Your play through will be 95% the same as theirs. It is not worth your 50 dollars. If you still want it after you've viewed someone else's playthrough, that is your own right.

I honestly became annoyed with the writing much faster than Mr. Otzdarva did, and at first I thought it was because I was spoiled by BG3's infinitely better writing. But no, it's rather that he was being very patient. He finished with a rather negative opinion of the game, after thoroughly going through it to test just how much control you as the player really have.

I will be fair-- It is certainly a visually stunning game, as far as Supermassive titles go. Much better looking than The Devil in Me. The music is also incredible. And some of the voice acting was well done and added much needed life to otherwise bland characters.

But good grief is the writing utterly nonsensical!! Even if you respect the "a multiverse exists, so anything is possible" fact which is canon to Dead by Daylight itself, it still doesn't make any damned sense. I mean, is it ever explained why there is time travel involved? Or how it is even possible? Did they simply expect people to just assume that Augustine figured out time travel in a certain timeline? Does it have something to do with the Entity, since it can clearly traverse time? If so, why was Sam able to voluntarily time travel to Madi & elder Linda's timeline? Why and how the FUCK is Frank Stone first bound to the mill and then camera using what is clearly the same magic as the horologium, when we know the Entity has not yet been brought to that timeline??

And playing the "anything is possible" card would be fine to explain certain things, I will concede, but it really starts to feel meaningless when you realise just how many massive plot elements are never explained and that none of your choices really have any impact on the ending of the game. The story literally ends the same no matter what you do. And to be fair, I do not think it is a bad ending at all. Barring the corny "trial starting" sound that they jammed in at the last second, I thought the ending was one of the better parts of the game. It works great to make you feel hopeless, and like there is truly no escape from the Entity. I just feel that this format of a "your choices impact the outcome of the story" game was the incorrect format for the story they wanted to tell. Because it truly doesn't even matter if you get everyone killed, or you save everyone-- everything happens the same way and the world's fate is the same.

There are other things that bothered me, too. I thought having Frank Stone appear as this corny, glitchy spectral monster for most of the game was...a terrible choice, both design wise and writing wise. Now, I do not think killing him in the opening was necessarily a bad decision. I honestly thought it was a bold choice that functioned well to surprise the viewer and urge them to continue, so they might discover how the story plays out after the death of the titular character. But keeping him as this ghoulish creature, that honestly looked as though it were from some solo indie developer's first low budget horror game, was awful. He did not feel threatening whatsoever, just wildly out of place in a visual quality sense. I hate the final design much less, it is certainly much more threatening and much, much more gruesome, but it still does not make sense as to why he looks that way. The Entity still had not taken him, why did he appear as this inhuman monster before his entry into the Fog? They should have kept a more humanlike design until the very end of the game, when the Entity arrives. Then, a transformation sequence where the Entity mutates him should have been restricted to the ending where no one from the cast is seen in the Fog, so players at least get something different in that allegedly "unique" ending. After all, if a cast member does get taken, at least you get to see visions of what followed the 1980s storyline.

Also why did Augustine work alone when she is clearly part of the Black Vale? The excuse of "the cult didn't exist yet" doesn't work here, because she can time travel and is fully aware of the multiverse she exists in. Like... I thought elder Linda's mention of secret passages being for staff "so they are seen as little as possible" was foreshadowing for Augustine having fellow cultists aiding her, but it just went nowhere. Another thing that goes nowhere is the baby that Sam can save at the very beginning. Should the baby live or die has absolutely no impact whatsoever on the story, which feels like an enormous mistake to me. That baby should have grown up to be a character that the cast could have interacted with to gain...oh I don't know, some piece of important knowledge, or an item, that could then later change the fate of the cast. This way, the player's choices in the 1960s segment actually have an impact on later gameplay, rather than meaning absolutely nothing.

I'd also love to know why the hell elder Sam was sent alone to prevent this situation from occurring, when the Imperatti (I think they were called? The parents of the Pariahs, or something, right?) would have surely realised the gravity of this situation? Like, how does this make any sense? And this is far from the only moment that makes no sense at all.

Why do Jaime and Robert have almost no relevance whatsoever after the 1980s segment concludes? Robert is guaranteed survival of this segment, as that part of the game is written so that two characters always survive-- be that Linda and Robert, or Sam and Robert. As annoying as Stan was, I didn't hate him because he had great dialogue that pushed other characters to have different dialogue than what we were used to. But it felt scummy that Robert was just given this sad, offscreen death instead of being included in a lot more meaningful way.

Not going to lie, it reminded me of how in Stranger Things 4, Patrick was the one teenager whose trauma wasn't really explored or given the same respect as the others. It's like the writers went, "Guys, guys! It's okay! We still have the other Black guy! This makes our game Diverse, and therefore no one could possibly complain!" Meanwhile, we get an entire cutscene about Madi's nightmares, and elder Linda's movie career and associated trauma is talked about numerous times. But all we know about 2024 Robert is that Stan took advantage of him, and then he later died, utterly miserable. Also, Sam somehow knows about this and he and Stan know one another, despite this Sam being from a different timeline than elder Linda, Madi, and Stan himself.

And Jaime, poor sweet Jaime, he really just feels like he's there as someone they can conveniently kill to shock the player. The first chance he has to die results in a horrible, very graphic death (although not the most graphic in the game by a long shot) that I feel many players will encounter because they see it as reasonable to visit the curiosities shop first, and then to later attempt to save Chris (even though her fate is the same here, regardless of what you do). And even if you should keep Jaime alive through that first confrontation with the spectral Frank Stone, it's not as though his survival impacts following events. He can die again, when fleeing Frank with Bonnie and an injured Linda. Why they have Linda, who has a gaping hole in her shoulder, attempt to pull Jaime up the platform alone while HIS OLDER SISTER just WATCHES is beyond me. But writing his death, whether it be here, or earlier, to have no impact on Bonnie's fate, or any future events, is plain bad writing.

You cannot save Bonnie, no matter what you do. And this scene makes no sense. When Frank grabs Bonnie, Linda points the camera at him, which should work. There really isn't any reasonable explanation as to why this should not work, or should not even momentarily distract him (Which could have led to a different ending where Bonnie lives and Linda dies instead?), because in the storm drain, so much as yelling at Frank causes him to abandon whoever he's attacking to seek out the new target. I suppose, at the very least, 1980s Bonnie's death does serve some kind of purpose in the 2024 storyline, because it serves as foreshadowing for Madi's potential fate. But just like Robert, 2024 Bonnie is given a sad offscreen death and we never really learn about how she or Jaime survived that night at the mill.

And I will say, it just feels shitty from a player point of view, to make it so you cannot save certain characters. Like, I'm sorry, is that a canon event? Where is Mr. O'Hara? Because Madi must be a god-damned anomaly, being Bonnie's daughter!! And Chris- god- Chris who mysteriously travels through time...I really do hate this part of the story because understanding its purpose can only happen if you manage to get the secret ending where she goes through the projector screen and DOESN'T burn and die. Which would require you to not have taken the pocket mirror or given the "protective" amulet to her. This unlocks a secret ending where she goes back in time to the moment where she, Jaime, and Linda were inintially shooting in the mill, right before Sam interrupted them. I took this as the writers trying to show us that there would be one timeline in which Frank Stone is never released (not sure how he ever was in the first place, really), likely saving them from the Entity. But other than the player somehow luckily getting this ending, I really don't see the point of Chris' time travel, because she can also be sent immediately back in the horologium, which does nothing meaningful. And why does it have to be Chris? Why not write it so it could be her or Jaime, so that maybe the player's choice to have her and Jaime breakup or not actually has some kind of impact on the gameplay?

One of the worst things about the game though, and I cannot stress this enough, is how badly the references to DBD are integrated. I love a good reference-- it can serve to add a little playful flair to a moment, or even go so far as to have the viewer look at the piece from a different perspective they had not previously considered. Buuuut... this is only if the reference is done well. And, well, what this game does could hardly be described as tolerable, even. In was so heavy-handed, it felt almost as bad as product placement in a Michael Bay movie. Many of these "references" felt out of place to the degree that someone with no knowledge of DBD would be likely able to pick them out, because they heavily disrupt either the game's aesthetic or the gameplay itself! One generator was funny, and honestly expected, but THREE of those damn things? Clunky, corny, and honestly? Lazy.

Unfortunately, I feel those three adjectives describe how I feel about the game overall. I feel bad for the people who put hard work into making it, because there is potential there for something great. But it really felt as though they were pushed to release this game as quickly as possible, so BHVR could sell us a 50 dollar, five-to-six-hour advertisement for their next DLC chapter. Hard to think anything else, really, when completion of the game is followed by a a literal ad for it.

All I can say is-- I really hope we get 2024 Linda as a survivor. It seems more likely that it will be Madi, but it is possible we could have a two-survivor chapter (unless they specifically outlined in the roadmap that there are no upcoming 2-survivor chapters?).

Madi and 2024 Linda would be cool though. We have no older women as survivors, despite having more than one older man. I think it's about damn time. And I love the mother/daughter bond that can sort of develop between Madi and 2024 Linda in the game.

#dbd #the casting of frank stone #the casting of frank stone spoilers #dbd spoilers #thoughts about media #I said essay and essay is at least 8 pages. 12 point font. double spaced by my standards.#so this is A LOT...yes. but it's not an essay. not to me. it's also not super linear and it's written in a very casual tone.#I wrote it here and there when I had a minute to spare.#anyway if you have thoughts about the game or have an answer to a question of mine- feel free to add it!#just....no funny business. I am too tired to deal with such childish behaviour. I will block trolls and the generally rude.#also- if you liked the game- no disrespect to you. if you felt it was worth your money and it entertained you- good. I'm glad.#I am content to have watched Mr. Otz play. I now know it's a game that I wouldn't ever want to play myself.#So I removed it from my wishlist after finishing his VOD. Bless that man for all he does for DBD players.

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eashmo · 1 year

Text

7 minutes in hell, or is it heaven? Part 15 💋

-Worship me baby.-

Warnings: Smut!, fluff, and lots of angst.

A/n: Sorry if ya'll don't have a daddy kink

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

* shameless Smut incoming*

*billy pov*

I heard the door open as someone entered the employee showers. Turning around, I found y/n had snuck in, peering at me from behind the shower curtain.

"What are you doing here, baby?" I ask rinsing the chlorine, sweat, and sunblock off my body. I raise one eyebrow when she didn't answer me. She just stared at my naked body.

Half a second later, I was pushed against the tile wall. Her lips feverishly on mine. I grip her waist gently. Water streaming on both of us.

"How about you show me all those styles you were telling me about now." She says between kisses.

"Couldn't wait until tonight, princess?" I smirk into her lips.

"Nope, it's your fault for making me horny in public, I need you now."

"So we're going to do this here?" I ask , pulling her closer to my body.

"Only if you want to, Daddy." She winks. The word affects me instantly. It was my turn to trap her against the tile wall.

There was always something about her that made me want to worship her against every nearest surface on the planet. She alone always awakes primal desire from me. Without thinking, I smashed my lips into hers kiss her ferociously but passionately. She left panting heavily.

"Let me worship you, baby girl." I breathlessly say.

"Please, Daddy, make love to me." She whimpers out of desperation.

"Jump," I demand. Doing a little jump, i grabbing her with ease. Her legs wrap around my waist instantly like a puzzle piece. Her hands wander down my chest, and she starts to grind herself against me. Pulling the string to her bikini bottom, "I really do dig the new suit, but it's gotta got." I say as I throw the bottoms over my shoulder. Her giggles turn into moans as I slip my cock into her pussy. Bottoming out.

"O-oh, Billy..." She didn't seem capable saying much else as I start to thrust hard in and out of her, I liked that. I loved hearing my name falling from her lips in pleasure.

"Who makes you feel good, babydoll?" I ask through groans.

"Ohh, y-you do, Daddy." She moans. My pace intensively grew with each thrust.

"I'm gonna come soon, I can't hold it much longer." She says as she gasps. As soon as the word left her mouth, I felt her tightly clamp around me. "Oh fuck!" She swore loudly. My cock twitching from the feeling of her orgasm. i stilled. Her head threw back as she slowly came down her high. While she was distracted, I thrust hard into her again.

"I didn't tell you you could cum yet princess" I whisper into her ear. Making her whimper. Before she could reply, i put a finger on her lips and look into her soft e/c eyes.

"I'm gonna give you that work out of your life that promised you."

Taking her out of the shower to the locker room, I laid her gently on the wooden bench, trailing kissing down the curves of her body, until I reach her core, inhaling deeply into her folds, the scent of her sweet juices flooding my senses. I place a small kiss on her folds and thighs, making her head swim.

"I love you, Billy," she moans as she threads her hands through my wet hair and folded her legs behind my head, trapping me in her thick thighs. I smile at the effect I was having on her. She lays back feeling how it is to be truly worshipped in the most intimate of way.

"I love you too babydoll." I say into her thighs.

Pulling her pussy against my face and abruptly jamming my tongue all the way inside her. She grinds her hips into my face, but I wasn't done. I pull my tongue out and suck her pink flesh. "God, she always tasted so good," her body explodes into waves of pleasure and lust. Her back arches as her whole body shuttered, withering in ecstasy.

"You're not allowed to cum yet, princess." I say as I stop sucking. She whines "P-please". My hands remove her thighs from my head, I trail kisses up her body until I capture her lips. Our tongues intertwining, she felt my cock press against her wet folds.

"B-billy," she moans. She jerks her hips against mine, I tease the tip into her. Her body is desperate, a single long thrust. I surge inside her, burying myself to the hilt.

"P-please let me cum daddy" she crys out.

"Cum for me princess"

She screams my name loudly as she came, gushing onto my cock. I didn't wait for her to come down from her high again. Hitting her insides from an incredibly pleasurable angle. Even before her climax ended, she felt another one rising within her.

She tightens her legs around my back as she came again. Her pussy flexing around my cock, gripping it tightly. We continue this way for several minutes as she was sent through a chain of orgasms in a never-ending loop. Nipping at her collarbone as she smiles down at me, enjoying having my cock inside her.

One final "Oh my god!" She cries out as the levels of pleasure course through her. Her nerve endings felt like a constant tsunami waking over her. My hands rake all over her curves, her breasts, her ass.

"I'm gonna cum baby" I murmur into her neck. she rocks her hips against me.

"Inside me, please." She begs.

She didn't care as long as it stays inside her.

I groan as my balls unloaded, filling her womb with a spurt after the spurt of my load. Leaning forward slumped over her chest. I kiss her sweat- covered neck. After I caught my breath, I pull out of her as she breathes heavily. I brush away hair from her eyes tenderly.

"How was that babydoll?"

"That was.....beyond amazing, but please no more tonight, I don't even know how many times I orgasimed, nor I can I feel my legs." She says as she tiredly smiles.

"I lost count to, you did so good baby girl." Laughing a bit

She sits up suddenly "Oh shit, Robin is probably wondering where I am" She says quickly in a panic, she stumbles when I lift her up, we took turns cleaning each other up and redress, when we walk out we find Buckley leaning on the brick wall picking at her nails, seeing us come out She smirks.

"Well, I see that you two had tons of fun,. You guys going the fair tonight?" She asks while looking at y/n.

"Oh fuck I forgot about the fair! Yeah, we'll be there." Y/n says while she holds my hand into hers.

"And you Hargrove, you get her home safely." She points at me with a Stern look.

"Always." I told her.

Previous Chapter

Part 16

Masterlist

2023

#Spotify #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things billy #billy hargrove stranger things #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove scenario #billy hargrove fanfiction #dacre montgomery

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squarebracketsmileyface · 6 months

Note

if you're looking for some Jam coded songs might I suggest the song I Love You Too - Ezra Bell

Jam song jam song jam song jam song yayayayayay

okay, it got a little long so: thingy bob

god this is so perfect for them though :] its so happysad and that's literally just so them. they are happysad together, theres so much wrong going on around them and they're all they have to turn to for comfort, so of course they're going to turn to each other. And they do love each other. they definitely do, but its definitely complicated. It's not long lasting love, but they still want to make each other feel loved.

Especially Tim. he wants to make sure Jay feels loved, he wants to fix Jay even though he definitely can't. Jay has to fix himself, and he doesn't want to, so he'll take all the nice things and the i love you's Tim will tell him and he'll hoard them and hope they'll fix him a bit, but not too much. He wants to be fixed enough that he stops feeling completely like shit, but not enough that Tim wouldn't need to keep trying to fix him. (Does that make sense lmao? god knows)

All of the lovers have moved on But yours is the steepest of hills And you glare at yourself in the mirror They all know things that you never will

They'll feel the things you can't access As they stand by the river at dawn You've grown older and cagey and classless And regret just what little you've done

This bit feels especially like its about Jay. Kinda like, at first its Tim in uni? like, he kinda knows about jay and alex even though they haven't actually told anyone (they're just not subtle about when they sneak away, and when they both come in covered in hickeys) like, Tim can kinda tell from just, Jay's face that there's something not ideal about his and Alex's arrangement, and he can take a pretty good guess at what it is given the way Jay's face drops whenever the topic of sexuality comes up in their little 'friend' group and Alex insists he's straight and gets really defensive over that fact.

Then it becomes current Tim who knows more about Jay and about Jay and Alex's not-relationship, and he knows that as Jay's gotten older he's gotten more cagey about everything, more like, defensive and more just generally weird about his relationships with people and all that. There's a specific word i'm looking for and I just can't for the life of me find it, but like yeah. Tim knows Jay's a lot more, like, spiteful? that's not the word either. spikey? WORDS ughhhhh, anyway

i love this song. its so them. its so Jam. they're such a mess. I love them but they're gonna be terrible if they're allowed to continue for too long. Ugh why can't i just telepathically beam my thoughts and ideas into peoples heads, it'd be so much easier than trying to translate the colours and shapes that make up how i feel about Jam in sorry its locked in my head.

They're just purple right now. like the colour of a bruise that you really wanna press on just to feel it hurt like a bitch so you remember its there and you know that the bump that gave you it actually happened.

that's them in my head right now.

they're a bruise

They're a bruise on each other. not a nasty one. not one given cruelly. but not one given as a hickey either. just a bruise given kindly. that doesn't even make sense.

they're just purple like a bruise i dont knowwwwwwwwwwwww. words don't make it make sense for themmmmmmmmmmm.

they're my babies and they hurt each other without even meaning to. but given where they are that hurt is sort of a kindness? because it's not as painful as it would be if they weren't trying to be gentle with each other. They're trying. even if it wont last forever.

#Just RARARARRARARRARARRARRA #yknow?#they're a mess and literally no words can explain exactly why and how they're a mess.#marble hornets #marble hornets fanfic #jay merrick #tim wright #mh jam #mh sorry its locked #song ask

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musedblues · 2 years

Text

More Than Words

(photo edits by @pitfulbaby_ on insta)

a/n: this is my personal rockstar!eddie dream, suspend your disbelief and enjoy this wild ride where eddie is no more and no less than a rock and roll icon. all credit goes to my wifey girl @joemazzmatazz , she has not only been majorly responsible for the birth of this idea but incredibly encouraging at my taking over bringing this fic to life.

warnings: sex, drugs and rock and roll baby. MINORS DON'T READ this fic has it allllllll.

///

To Corroded Coffin, you were a pseudo sibling, a reluctant roadie- the only friend who seemed to earn a stable spot on the sofa in their dirty garage turned rehearsal studio. And that was just the way you liked it.

It all started when their singer, Lonnie, cornered you outside of Mr. Clarke's class and begged you to film the bands appearance at the middle school talent show. They lost the competition, but won your heart that evening. Through the rest of that school year and the summer that followed, you'd watched the band evolve through the lense of your family's old super 8.

Filming the band's sets and offering the help make flyers for the local gigs they managed to score became your favorite past time. Because of this, Corroded Coffin dubbed you the bands guardian angel- but only after you alerted the drummer that his girlfriend was shagging the guitarist. So Drew broke it off with the girl and sent the six string traitor packing, and you offered to help find his replacement.

That month of auditions felt never ending and more hopeless with each passing wannabe rocker. Until Eddie.

Eddie Munson waltzed into that dirty old garage like he owned the place, playing his guitar before even speaking a word. The way he showed off surprised you. He'd been obviously outspoken in school, but the confidence he oozed behind his instrument was a sight to behold. And he was the best damn guitarist any of you'd heard... maybe ever. Without much discussion, the band started to jam. Ben picked up his bass and Lonnie started scatting out a melody and by the time they'd managed to make a song out of their messing about, it was the best Corroded Coffin had ever sounded.

The band asked you what you thought, each of them grinning when your head nodded in approval. Eddie was asked to join forces with the other players and at the end of it all, you were introduced as their guardian angel. It was a dumb ass joke, but one that wouldn't die. And though you protested the use of the nickname, it stuck.

It made sense, though. You were the one setting up amps and driving the sons of bitches across state lines to help land gigs to earn them some exposure. You were the one paying more than half the rent in your eventual sharde flat, so the boys could spend their earnings making music as professionally as possible. You were the one chucking beer cans back at hicks who tossed them the bands way, mid set. (Indiana was really not the scene for the metal group) Lonnie had to jump off stage to stop you from fist fighting a bulky drunken lumberjack, one evening.

Each of the boys owed you a lot. And you believed their music would become successful enough to count as pay back, one day. But despite having known him for a much shorter time than the others, Eddie most often sought the protection of the angel wings the others insisted you owned.

It was no secret that you thought the world of him. After a gig that paid the band in kegs of beer; you got drunk enough to tell Eddie he was the only guitarist you approved of joining the band because he was talented and cute, and he became endeared to you all the while. Not in the way you'd hoped, but he learned he could trust you all the same.

"Since you think I'm so dreamy, would you do me a favor, angel?" Eddie would bat his lashes and beg you to help him pass the test that finally got him to graduate. With the pout of his lip, he got you to help him make an extensive budget; or fix a broken pair of glasses he'd sometimes worn but never dared told anyone else he had to. Because you'd been transparent about your admiration for the guy, he began to trust you with his own secrets.

"You know my story." Eddie spoke in confidence one evening. "I've always been made to feel like such an outcast. I'm just worried that no matter how hard I try I'll still be the weirdo everyone loves to hate. And I don't want that to be what this band is known for. I don't want to mess this up."

And in turn, you'd said...

"Well, everyone who shows up for the music will see how much you love it. And they'll fall head over heels for you without even thinking. I am speaking from personal experience, of course." You both laughed and the guitarist thanked you for the pep talk that night, and for all the help you so selflessly continued to provide the band.

Eventually, all your hard work started to pay off. The recordings you'd captured of the bands every gig were finally picked up by the right local producer at the right time. The business man agreed to finance a real recording session for Corroded Coffin.

The release of that EP didn't make a big difference in the small town of Hawkins, but the single got air time by way of the capital city's most beloved underground radio station. Over the next year, Corroded Coffin went from selling out pubs in the city, to selling out auditoriums in the tristate area. The producer insisted on helping the band make a bona fide debut album, and the rest was history.

///

The band had fled your shared flat, leaving the space feeling void, and the rent looming over your head. They were four months into a European tour that was only just getting started. And everytime Ben rang home to insist on sending money back to help keep the lights on; the bassist revealed new tour dates kept getting added to the already lengthy schedule. You weren't surprised to hear it.

Corroded Coffin was usually always on the radio stations you favored. Their posters decorated record store walls and the windows of odd coffee houses. Their album was usual sold out in every place it was available to purchase. The band of boy's you'd grown to adore were becoming the rest of the music world's favorite group as well. Pride bloomed in your chest more fiercely each time their one and only music video looped through MTV.

When your phone clattered against the holder, and you knew it was them. No one else ever called. So when all you heard on the other line were guitars being tuned for a split second, you weren't surprised... Until the bands manager started to speak.

"Are you looking for extra work, this summer?" His gravel voice wondered in an accent you could never quite place.

"You know I would love nothing more than to quit my 9 to 5, Tony." You laughed, unsure if he did know. You'd barely interacted the bands new manager. Tony swooped in out of nowhere, promised the band the moon, and ushered them off on tour in the matter of two short months. You met him once at the airport when you dropped the lads off, before driving Eddie's van back to Hawkins.

"Good! Listen to this..." Tony went on to explain that Corroded Coffin were making plans for the future. The band had made big promises to MTV and to their record label about a second album and documentary. "The boys want you to film it."

"Can't... shouldn't MTV handle that?"

"MTV will. The band want the majority of the footage to feel familiar, like watching an old home movie. They tell me you've got just the equipment. And old footage we can use, too, so it'll all blend together well. You'll work with MTV's crew. We're pushing the 'small town boys make it really really big' angle."

Tony went on to promise you more money than you've ever had in your life, and even got Drew on the line to confirm this was not a prank. Your life changed in one fifteen minute phone call. But just how much was yet to be determined...

///

You arrived in a French airport with two precariously packed bags and a bundle of nerves growing with every step. Since when were you so anxious about meeting up with your oldest friends? The place was packed with travelers, shuffling every which way. Tony stood waiting for you, his lanky arms opened in a welcoming fashion as you hurried to meet him near a luggage carousel. At his side was the MTV rep you'd be working alongside to make Corroded Coffin's documentary come to life.

After a moment of going over the game plan for the next few months and complaining a bit about your flight, Tony showed you down a noticeably more sparse hall. Only a few people shuffled by before you spotted them- the boys in the band you'd known so well.

"Tony! We came looking for you! Take off is soon." Drew called out, his ashy blonde curls grown down to his waist, longer than ever. As Tony started plodding with more purpose, the band kept walking your way, picking up their own pace to greet you.

Ben lifted you from the ground in an embrace, and you worried aloud over how skinny he'd become. Lonnie and Drew ruffled your hair before chivalrously taking your bags to carry toward the plane. As they turned to walk in the correct direction, Eddie was the last to emerge before you. His smile was coquettish, like he knew something he couldn't wait to tell you. His elbows stayed near his sides as he raised both hands to invite you into a lazy but well meaning hug. His hair was a mess, and the circles under his eyes made you wonder if he'd slept at all since the tour started.

"Hey, you kind of look like shit." You smiled, glad to see the guy even if he was looking a little rough. Eddie didn't embrace you as expected, but planted both of his extended hands on either side of your head.

"Coming from you, angel, that really stings." Eddie's grin grew wider before he placed a kiss to the crown of your head. "But I needed to hear it." You took note of the exhaustion in his tone, despite Eddie's efforts to save face.

"Well, you better clean up your act before I catch you looking such a wreck on my camera." As you spoke, you couldn't help but brush a strand of matted hair from Eddie's forehead- missing the way he'd let you dote on him before every show. "Be my mirror, kid." He'd ask, knowing fully well you'd take any opportunity to stare a little more intently at the guy.

Now; he agreed to follow your orders as he flung an arm around your shoulder- leading you down the hall a few feet behind everyone else.

The group shuffled quickly outdoors, where you were less surprised to find a private jet idoling than you were by a horde of fans anxiously corralled behind a gate. A guard stood by as the swarm hollered at the sight of the band, collectively reaching toward them. How'd that many people even get back here, you wondered? The boys in the band waved but seemed unaffected by the chaos as they hurried on the jet. As you loaded in and processed how quickly everything was already happening, everyone found seats and settled. Cracking open books and pouring drinks to pass the time. Eddie, however, crashed right at your side and let his head hit your shoulder- his eyes closing as he fell into an immediate sleep.

"He hasn't slept since Glasgow." Tony chuckled in the seat across from you, pointing to the passed out guitarist. "Was beginning to wonder if he ever would again."

///

The next row of days and nights were a blur. You spent every second trying to keep up the pace that Corroded Coffin seemed to be used to now, running onto stages and dashing out of the grasp of the fans that seemed to be waiting around every corner. The shows Corroded Coffin put on were dazzling, and it never failed to raise an emotion within you to see them all take charge of such a massive opportunity. To hear their music pulse through venues. To see the dream playing out in real time.

The MTV rep and yourself had found a way of working together decently. He'd talk to the band between shows, film the things your little old super 8 couldn't quite capture. And you'd filmed just about everything else, because just about everything Corroded Coffin did was remarkable to the people around them- charming.

Eddie would reach into the front row of every other audience and grab a hand close enough to kiss a set of knuckles- sending the sea of the other thousands into bombastic cheers. Drew would stand on tabletops and scale fountains and laugh brightly enough to steer authority figures away from too harshly reprimanding him. Lonnie would turn interviews into parties, making sure camera men and assistance were supplied with beer cans and insisting radio hosts spin Metallica records in the middle of Q&A's. Ben would try and keep the peace but could be caught smirking through the chaos all the same.

Then came the autograph signing at a record store in Monaco. The business shut its doors for a half hour to let the boys do some shopping in peace, keeping out a swarm of fans that chanted and cheered to be let in. You recorded your friends froliking through the asiles and picking out stacks of vinyl to claim for their own, winking at fans through the windows every now and again. They certainly were getting used to all the attention, something they usually only ever received negatively back home.

Just before the doors were opened, you set your camera down and tried to enjoy the time with your friends as just that, looking over records all the same as them. You'd found a vinyl, the only one your favorite band had released that you didn't already own. Eddie noticed your excitement, and without a word he plucked the record from your grasp and added it to his own pile at the register- mentioning something about listening to everything later in his room on his portable player.

It was a swoon-worthy gesture, but one that left an ache in your heart all the while. You knew there would never be time to sit and listen to any of this music, even if Eddie had hoped there would be. The band had no second of peace, there were always a place to be, people waiting. The band was given only a moments notice before the record store doors opened and you were left filming the mob shoving posters in the boy's hands to sign.

///

In a private booth of some elegant restaurant in Barcelona, the once long-suffering band had fully morphed into unabashed attention whores. Drew sat with a model under each of his arms, Lonnie was tracking down local reporters to woo, and you were sat back soaking it all in. By now, the scene was familiar, but it hit you all at once that perhaps it was the new normal way of things. Grown suddenly a little exhausted by that point, you wished hopelessly for a weekend to yourself, for an afternoon with a book in your lap and no planes to worry about catching. But the only vacation from this scene that you'd kept reliving was a trip to the bar top by yourself.

You'd stood next to a nice enough guy who started getting a little too handsy. Alas, your pseudo vacation was soiled. You were working on slithering away from the stranger when Eddie appeared. You noticed by his saunter the guitarist was hammered.

"Hey fuck off, buddy." Eddie smiled with fire in his gaze, moving to push the handsy stranger even further away than you'd managed to nudge him. There was slur in your friends voice so noticeable that you wondered how he was even functioning right now. It was then you realized Eddie had your camera in his grasp.

"You're always behind this thing. S'your turn to be in front!" He declared, taking a step back to point the lense at you. And of course you were in no state to be filmed, dirty hair pulled back, your clothes wrinkled by travel. And anyway he was wasting space you were getting paid to film him.

"Okay, pal." You managed to gently yank your device from Eddies grasp and steady his inebriated wobble all the while. In the same moment he mumbled in wonder what drink you had in your grasp, some girl came up to him ask for an autograph. The guitarist let his grin grow wickedly slow as the shy young thing held a pen in his direction. The guy nearly knocked it out of her hand as he grossly agreed to sign anything she'd wanted.

"You're a mess." You huffed a small laugh, making sure he heard you before you decidedly saw yourself out of Eddie's line of chaos. You were instead off to find Ben. He'd surly do shots with you, and manage to maintain a conversation worth while. Even if you had to tolerated his new groupie girlfriend, with an impossibly shrill voice that never stopped chattering.

By the time you'd found the pair, you learned that Ben had proposed to this newfound love of his and the two had made plans to get married in the next city. You offered to order celebratory shots, but only drank to dull the ever growing ache in your head.

///

At the next backstage green room, you sat fidgeting with your camera, trying to decide if you should film Lonnie attempting to apply eyeliner or not. It made his dark eyes pop, but he was so sloppy with the process. Eddie was near, fretting over his stage outfit. How could he choose between a flannel and ripped jeans or a ripped up shirt, and the same ratty fucking jeans?

"Does this look alright?" Eddie stood before you with a grimace, in the a different version of the same kind of outfit he'd been so hung up on. You paused to consider his change of clothes, but then he spoke again before you could.

"If I don't look good enough to make you blush, angel, I'm doin' something wrong."

"Dude. You look fine." You laughed, and this was not the right answer apparently, as he stormed toward the corner of the room, leafing through the wardrobe wrack again. It was then and there in the middle of the bloody green room that Edward Munson dropped his jeans to the ground in favor of a shiny leather pair.

It was an olympic feat to hide your fluster in that moment; hoping you looked as nonchalant as possible while deciding to finally film Lonnie's attempt at eyeliner. But the singer wasn't about to let you off that easy...

"Will you two ever just bone and get it over with?" Your friend gave a wicked grin to your camera and you moved it away in a hurry to catch his eye with your frustrated gaze.

"It's hard to film you lot being funny when you act like such a dick, Lonnie." You huffed, hopping your face didn't look as hot as it felt. The singer only chuckled at your disconcert in that annoying brotherly sort of way that had you thanking God you hadn't had to grow up with these boys as your actual siblings- shuddering to think how they'd up the ante of humiliation on a day to day basis.

The band was promptly ushred to the stage then, a welcomed change of pace. As Corroded Coffin kicked off a show that sent a thousand fans roaring, you stood with a racing mind at the side of the stage. Hadn't the boys moved passed teasing you like that? When Eddie joined the band, there were a few long months of torture, the boys razzing every time Eddie got you to blush. But eventually there were no more jokes to make. So the boys settled for smiles under the rolling of eyes- their only attempt at taking the piss out of your dynamic with the guitarist.

You watched on the boys share nods and wordless connection as they brought their music to life. And you watched as Eddie shot winks to the front row while he shredded away. That's what he did. Everyone was used to it by now, Eddie's flirting. But you couldn't get over why Lonnie dared to say what he'd said, an hour before. You decided it couldn't matter as much as you wanted it too, and managed all the while to get lost dancing to the music.

///

In the middle of that last show, Eddie had stumbled a bit but brushed off the near fall with a smile that endeared the masses into cheering his name. You'd always known he was charming, but to observe such waves of people showering him in such never ending adoration was still pretty wild to process. In fact, the audience seemed possessed by lust, blinded to Corroded Coffin's little setbacks that kept happening that show. No mishap upended the performance by any means; but you couldn't help but notice how Drew fumbled to find another pair of drumsticks and the way Lonnie paused to breath a little longer between songs.

The next morning welcomed a long awaited scheduled set of days off, as to not completely burn out the band. But it all seemed too late when Eddie woke up worse for wear. Tony pounded on your door loud enough to wake you and demand you take some of the painkillers you kept on hand down the hall to the guitarist. As the manager went to phone a doctor, you scurried to knock on Eddie's door. The faint groan he responded with was answer enough for you to see yourself in. The guy was slumped over in bed, looking dead to the world.

"I'm dyin'. Can you play guitar? Someone will have to replace me the rest of this tour." He croaked, not bothering to move from the mess of blankets he was nearly face down against.

"Would some of these keep you alive for a couple more days?" You rattled the pill bottle and stood against the wall nearest his bed, watching Eddie turn to squint up at you.

"You know I can't see that far." He huffed, turning his face back to whine into the pillows.

"Im sure if you wore your secret glasses you're head wouldn't hurt as much. And I'm sure if you ever consumed something more than whiskey for dinner you'd feel less shitty in general." You listed, opening the bottle and moving to sit at the side of the bed to hand the pills to the pitiful guitarist.

Eddie slowly turned to face you, taking the painkillers with a pout. He grumbled a thank you and you let him know that Tony had phoned a doctor, because no precaution was too over the top when it came to making sure the rockstar would be able to get back on another stage in 42 hours time. You insisted Eddie rest until then, and decidedly got up to find your own peace for the day.

As you left the room, you saw Drew worriedly waiting for life or death news in his opened door way. When you informed the drummer that you were sure Eddie was just exhausted, the guy laughed in relife, and thanked you for coming along. Claiming the band would legitimately fall to bits without you around to glue things in sensible place. You invited the guy to the lodge gardens where you planned to help yourself to some lunch, but he decided resting the day away was in order for himself as well.

You found solace in the fact that the band was spending the day taking some kind of care of themselves, something you hadn't seen done in the month and a half you spent on the road with them. And your excitement grew when you realized today you could finally do the same. After cleaning up and choosing a book as your companion, you ordered some food and took it to the lush gardens of the elaborate Italian lodge. There were few other residents that crossed your marble laid path, but the place was so massive it didn't shock you to realize there were ample opportunities to find privacy in public.

You placed your plate on a small garden table and settled into a cushioned iron chair, appreciating the afternoon breeze and birdsong you'd been longing for. A stark contrast to the grimey backstages and buzzing of amps you'd been used to. After a few chapters and most of your meal had gone with the hours, you were interrupted.

"What are you reading?" Eddie had emerged from the plant covered path, strolling toward you. He looked better, dressed in a plain white tee with his tousled hair pulled back.

"Doctor Zhivago, don't think you'd like it very much." You announced as he approached closer. Eddie sat himself in the only chair at your side, saying something about how Drew mentioned your whereabouts to the guitarist.

"Shall we order you some food? Coffee? With, what is it you like... seven sugars?" You asked with a roll of your eyes. Eddie smirked at your comment, stealing a couple of leftover grapes from your plate.

"It's not sweet enough with any less."

"Don't come crying to me when you get diabetes or some shit."

Eddie stole more fruit with a shrug as you asked if any doctor had paid him a visit yet.

"He did. Didn't tell me anything you hadn't already said. I should be wearing my glasses. I should be taking better care of myself. I guess I really needed this day off. Just couldn't stand to lay up there doing nothing anymore." Eddie rambled on more about how didn't realize just how hard and fast he'd been living, it all seemed to hit him the moment he stopped.

"And anyway, rockstars don't wear glasses." Eddie pointed, stealing more of your food.

"Holly and Lennon would beg to differ." You cocked a brow and shut your book, shifting your entire attention to Eddie.

"I know." He slumped funnily, making you chuckle. "I'll break them out. Just don't film me looking too smart, got it? I've got an image to uphold."

"I promise not to film you looking any less than rock royalty." You laughed. Eddie chuckled too, and rambled a bit longer about how caught up in the scene he'd become, struggling to remember that last time he was this sober and exactly what day it was. You listened and nodded along, knowing how taxing this tour had been for you, imagining it was an even more exhausting endeavour for Eddie.

"You know I'm glad you're still out here putting up with us all. I really missed you, angel." Eddie looked right at you, stalling your heart for a beat against your wish to shed this silly bunch of feelings you held for the guitarist.

"Don't say something you don't mean." You tried to joke like usual but knew it came out a little more like a warning than you'd intended. Eddie watched you for a moment before he spoke up again. His gaze was always so magnetic. His presence was always so captivating. You couldn't help but swoon a little when he said things like that to you.

"We're friends... right? It's selfish but... I could really use a friend out here."

You let out a small sigh, sitting up a bit to respond. "Eddie I can put my silly crush aside, like always. I could never compete with all the groupies vying for your attention anyway." You smiled and insisted you'd be glad to continue being Eddies voice of reason throughout the rest of this tour.

Eddie thanked you, letting the moment of gratitude hang in the air before he slumped a little further back in his chair and insisted you read the book in your lap aloud. He talked you into doing so, and it became a relaxing passage of time for the pair of you, until dusk threatened to fall and a chill sent you both back to seperate rooms for the night.

///

After two glorious days of relative quiet at that posh Italian lodge, it was time to hop back on the road once more. The band played show after show, never failing to kick ass but struggling to avoid slip up's more than usual. While he never let it show to the crowd, you noticed Eddie's fatigue when he slumped for a beat too long near an amp, pretending to plug something in, but stalling just to collect himself, it seemed.

It wasn't helping that he would only wear his glasses when he was all alone- declaring they were not nearly metal enough for the world to see- because Eddie was never alone. And his headaches had nearly emptied your bottle of painkillers. The combination of the handful of pills and whatever alcohol he'd claimed as dinner were threatening to turn the kids brain to mush, you noticed.

Eventually, when he was just spaced out enough, during moments he would sling his arm around your shoulder and sit with you on plane rides- you got him to wear the bloody things. During band meetings and room service breakfasts with just you and the other guys, he'd opt to see better. During times like then, no one was quite so worried how they looked or who to impress, anyhow. All anyone knew was how much you all missed home.

But the tour persisted mercilessly. You'd film the band from the sidelines of talk show appearances and as they mucked about during soundchecks. You napped during radio interviews, and you'd sit through after parties while the boys let girls pour shots down their throats. And slowly, you watched as you lost each friends company to prettier people and more important offers. Each night it got worse.

You watched on as their collective interest was lost on you- as the boys in the band embraced the scene you were equally as submerged into but were most stranded amongst. The friends you'd flown across the world for would leave in the middle of stories you managed to conjure up, when famous producers crashed odd dinner parties. Lonnie promised for weeks to take you to dinner just the pair of you, to gossip and get away from it all. But he'd raincheck every afternoon, skipping off with people he'd only just met, instead. Drew and Ben had taken to crushing up pills to keep them awake, but were always too intoxicated to be present, floating through the motions, disregarding your general existence in their orbit.

But it really stung every time Eddie lost interest in the slivers of time he decided to spend with you. It only took a stunning blue eyed beauty to tear his gaze from yours, and steal him away for the rest of the night. It would only take a shinny new guitar handed to the budding rock and roll icon, to get Eddie yammering away to a set of strangers. Leaving you to wonder how the story he was telling you was meant to end. He'd never get around to telling you the end of many of those things his attention was stolen from.

The very worst was the mansion party. You'd found yourselves in a castle like home, full of your peers all more wasted than the next. You couldn't sure by whom you'd all been invited or how it even mattered. All you could process was the music that flooded from speakers, heavy drums and bass never ceasing to thrum through your ears. Sweaty bodies crowded each corner, and the drinks never seemed to run out.

You'd gotten used to the girls by now. The pretty young things that would claw their way through crowds for a chance to be near Eddie. As foreign as the concept was, having only known the guitarist to garner the opposite reactions from girls back home, you'd gotten used to it. Eddie always had an excitable groupie on standby, to wink at from stage, to drag into his room at night.

But tonight was different. A line of ladies seemed to be impatiently waiting for a turn with the moon eyed guitarist, lingering close by in packs, whispering about him to each other before leaning in to whisper to him. Eddie invited one or two at a time into the seat of his lap, petting back their hair and shoving his tongue down their throats.

He wasn't breaking any rules. He hadn't ditched any previously made plans to stick close by you. He hadn't made any promises to you. Yet you'd felt the loneliest you ever imagined feeling in the middle of that people packed mansion- watching Eddie hand his heart out to sets of strangers who weren't you.

So when a strikingly beautiful foreign metal head settled in the seat at your side, and began to strike up profound conversation; you warmly accepted his bold introduction. The man was almost too pretty, a perfect set of features shone past long waves of sandy hair. His near curls tickled your face when he leaned in to tell a joke in your ear, past the loud thrumming music.

And when his hand dared to settle just above your knee, you locked eyes with someone else across the room. Eddie was sat in an armchair, not to far from you. There was a girl at his side, doing her best to leave a hickey where she'd latched her mouth to his neck. He'd worn an odd sneer on his face, eyes never leaving yours once the pair of you had noticed each other. You were the first to break the stare off, though. Turning instead to gaze at the stunning metal head who leaned into you, daring to move his hand further up your thigh. As he did, you couldn't help but look back at the guitarist across the way.

It seemed Eddie hadn't stopped looking in your direction, even as a new girl settled into his lap, twirling one of his curls around her manicured finger. All at once, the guy at your side moved his hand from your leg to your hip, daring to trace circles with a soft finger as he told you some very raunchy story. As you'd kept your gaze on Eddie, you watched when he irritably nudged the girl from his lap to stand. What was his sudden problem, you wondered?

Trying your damnedest to enjoy the shred of admiration the foreign guy held for you, you let him move strands of hair behind your ear and didn't mind when the stories he told in your ear grew increasingly more vulgar. If things kept going in this direction, maybe you wouldn't have to spend another night all alone.

You rolled your eyes at Eddie as he dared to drift close by, on his way to retrieve another beer, you figured. He glared at you in a way that had you questioning his sobriety. You wondered if it would be worth addressing, or if he'd be none the wiser to the evil eye he'd been giving you, the next morning. Ben popped into view then too, noticing Eddies scowl, and the bassist mouthed to you from across the way asking what the hell his problem was. You just gave a small shake of your head as you decidedly turned to face the fellow at your side. He was gentle in the way he grabbed at you. He was funny too, enough to pull a string of giggles out of you. You'd nearly lost your attention entirely to him, until you detected Eddie once more.

The guitarist was standing closer than ever before, and you noticed just in time to watch as he pretended to hear Ben call out his name. In an animated overreaction, Eddie pretended to be distracted enough to bump against the chair your new foreign friend sat in, and Eddie, with sly intention, spilled a full glass of beer across the fellows back.

The metal heads once endearing attention was torn from you and a rage took over him as he turned his stunning features to find Eddie feigning an apology he very obviously did not mean. Passersby gasped and laughed and batted their eyes at Eddie as they floated near.

"Eddie!" You hissed, getting up to move and giving a real apology to your almost-date. He seemed entirely disinterested now, clenching his jaw and gently yet dismissively pushing you aside to likely find something to change into. You tried to stop him but it was no use. When he'd gone you saw Eddie still standing there with a shit eating grin spread across his face.

"Fuck you Eddie Munson." You seethed, each word tearing from your throat with an anger you were not accustomed to.

"I know you'd really like to, what's stopping you huh?" Eddie bent a little so he could look square in your eye as he responded. And though his remark could have made you weak in the knees, it only made your anger grow tenfold. He was definitely wasted.

"You jealous mother fucker!" You pointed, unsure where this spat was headed or why it had started in the first place. Before it could continue, you felt Ben's familiar boney grip yanking you away. He demanded Eddie go cool off somewhere, and enveloped you into his skinny side, bounding away from the guitarist.

That very same evening, Ben's annoying groupie wife left him for a famous chef she'd met at that cursed party. He fell to bits, a true blue heartbreak. You didn't end up alone that night after all. You and Ben stayed up sniffling through tears in your room, wondering when everything started to suck because the tour sure started off happier, you both recalled.

///

Since then, the bassist had become your closest confidant. His newly despondent state matched your own, and the pair of you often sat on the outskirts of parties and nights out. He'd always end up at your side after interviews or during shared meals. He'd give fans polite smiles when they interrupted your lunches, and wait for them to leave so you two could carry on talking about books and movies to dull the ache of reality.

The rest of the band was not nearly as grounded, letting themselves get entirely swept up in the depth of the tour. Lonnie had grown bitchy, pissing off his bandmates when he didn't think soundchecks were taken seriously enough, often starting quarls in the dressing room after. Drew was never sober, always on something that hindered his ability to care as much as he used to. And Eddie was never alone. People of all kinds swarmed around him, and he ate up the attention, allowing strangers to crash rehearsals and take up space on the jet. He'd been so busy wooing so many new faces that he'd barely paid you attention for a handful of days.

///

On the rooftop of some raging Japanese hotel, the band was busy celebrating another kick ass show. Before the after party had even really begun, Drew was already passed out near the pool. You stayed near, watching his chest rise and fall, until a roadie was assigned to drag the drummer to bed, hopefully without a hitch. Lonnie was busy buying rounds of drinks and Eddie was busy kicking bottles off of table tops. Ben had promised to stick close by, but he'd unfortunately fallen in love at first sight with a girl who looked a lot like the one he'd recently had his heart broken by.

So there you were, left sulking, wishing you hadn't decide to leave your camera in your room, because it was easy to hide behind. Now you just wanted to leave, and you realized nothing was stopping you from doing just that. And not just this rooftop party, not just this city.

"Tony. I want to go home." You shouted at him from across a mini bar. The guy was just as spent, but seemed to perk up when he realized what you were demanding. When the manager didn't try and stop you right away; you made an argument that the band had more than enough footage from tour, from you, and that you were desperate to get off the never ending ride. Tony tried for a moment to talk you down from making an irrational decision, but he could see you weren't going to back down. Eventually the guy shuffled off mentioning something about a phone call, promising you he'd see what he could do about putting an end to your misery.

After stealing a shot from under Lonnie's nose and chugging the last of your own drink, you moved to find your coat and the stairs.

"Where do you think you're going?" A voice boomed through the crowd. Eddie was stumbling toward you, dragging some girl behind as he maneuvered to approach. It was the first time he'd spoken directly to you in what felt like forever, maybe longer.

"I'm calling it a night." You voiced, slinging your thin garment over your bent arm.

"No, stay a little while longer, Slash is supposed to show up later! This party will die without you." You were flattered that Eddie wouldn't want you to miss rock and roll royalty gracing the up and coming band's party, but you were just not in the mood to be otherwise disregarded, tonight.

"I don't really feel like that's true." You hadn't wanted your reply to come off so bittered but you couldn't seem to help it, this tour was wearing you down.

"No, he's really gonna be here-"

Just then Tony shouldered passed the guitarist, the interruption stunning the guy from finishing his sentence.

"There is a flight tomorrow morning. If you can be up by six, there will be a ticket home waiting for you at the front desk." The manager grumbled in his unintelligible accent, reluctant to send you away. "I think you should think about this, though-"

"There is nothing to think about Tony, I want to go home."

"Wait, where are you going?" Eddie fretted, seemingly coming out of his stupor enough to comprehend your conversation with Tony.

"You guys should have enough footage. I'm going back to Hawkins." You swallowed the lump in your throat and watched Tony gaze at Eddie from the side of his eyes, as if the manager had expected the guitarist to blow.

Eddies face did fall as he stepped closer to say "No. Don't leave me yet, angel." No sooner than the words left his lips did the girl at his side sneer and demand to know who you were and why Eddie cared so much.

"She's nobody, babe, come on." Eddie groaned, his focus morphing in the blink of an eye, as if he'd never cared about stopping you at all. His hold tightened desperately on the girl he seemingly favored tonight. Tony seemed to notice too, cringing at Eddie's disregard.

That "nobody" hit you where it hurt, and it was hard not to let it show, as you shoved past Eddie, determined to leave faster than before. You heard him call out to you again, a half hearted attempt to stop you. But he couldn't.

///

You found yourself alone, like usual, but unusually glad for it. There was a massive bottle of vodka calling your name from your rooms mini bar, one you wanted all your own. You switched on the telly to keep the silence of the room from driving you mad, downed as much vodka as you could in record time, and started packing.

It was somewhere halfway down the bottle that the band arrived back from the rooftop. You could tell by the ruckus coming from the hall that had been quiet before now. Debating on leaving a goodbye note, or letting Tony break the news to the boys, you kept packing and pretended the distant laughter from the hall didn't sting to hear.

Then there was a knock. You took another swig of alcohol as the banging at your door grew annoyingly more persistent. You only moved to open it when you couldn't stand the noise any longer.

"I didn't mean nobody.'" Eddie grumbled past a frown, drunk as you. He leaned against the door frame, a mess, shirt barely buttoned, hair unkempt. You started to wordlessly shut the door on him but he stopped it from closing with a foot.

"I didn't mean it, she was nobody and I was just excited about Slash. He didn't even show up. Please let me in." Eddie slurred, trying to slot himself between the half shut door.

"No, Eddie, I'm tired of being your second choice. You only talk to me when the people you're trying to impress aren't around."

That stunned the guy into silence. You watched his big brown eyes stare into yours with realization. "I do that?"

You just scowled, turning back to finish packing, reluctantly allowing Eddie to squirm through and lock you both in.

"You seriously aren't going back to Indiana, are you?" He worried, moving to stall before where you paced from the closet to your opened suitcase.

"I am." You sighed. In a few words you reminded Eddie that your job here was done and the tour was driving you mad. That the band was driving you mad. But as angry as you were at Eddie you were even more in love with him. So you couldn't help but empathize with how worn down he must've felt, too.

"I think you should stay." He said. "I really want you to stay."

"Why? You have barely said two words to me since Russia."

"I-I..." He stuttered but seemed to recall the past several days, realizing neither of you had really been around each other much.

"You guys won't even notice I'm gone." You spoke, still picking clothes away from hangers and moving to toss them in your bag.

"That's not true." Eddie echoed your statement from much earlier. Whether he meant to or not, he did. And it sent your head spinning a little. "Please don't leave me alone out here. I dont care if you film another thing..."

"You're never alone, Eddie." You seethed, moving to toss another sweater in your unzipped suitcase. But Eddie stopped you, his fingers brushing your wrist to stall your movement before he cautiously wrapped his digits around your arm there.

"I really fucked this all up. I don't want you to leave me. Please stay."

"Why do you only want my attention when you're about to lose it?" You demanded to know.

"Because I'm too much of a pussy to ask for your attention all of the time! And I do want your attention all of the time. And I don't want you to fucking leave me." He boomed back, voice bursting with emotion as he grabbed at you. His one hand that had been latched onto your wrist had joined his other hand in holding either side of your face in his grasp.

"Then prove it." You ordered. If Eddie wanted you around he certainly hadn't been acting like it. But what happened next wasn't exactly the proof you'd been expecting.

Eddie was kissing you before the words finished forming on your lips. You were stunned, absolutely shocked. Not only by his decision to press his lips against your, but by the voracity in which he kissed you. His tongue pushed against yours, his fingers tugged your hair, his body radiated heat flush against your own. And when he pulled away he looked at you and asked with staggered breath,

"Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

"Just... shut the fuck up and do it again." You decidedly croaked, too drunk too care otherwise. You'd dreamed of this. You'd wanted this for so long it was impossible to demand he cease. The room spun from the alcohol and your heart hammered from the feeling of finally having Eddie right where you'd always wanted him. He did as he was told, grabbing you and kissing you and pushing you toward the bed.

His kisses were loud and desperate, and so were yours in turn. His curls tickled your skin, and his hands weren't afraid to wander. With no real time to revel in the bliss of certain caresses, things escalated at a pace so quick you'd wondered if you'd slipped into a drunken dream. Eddie tore away your shorts as you ripped away his belt, dying to get to what was underneath already.

The man's kisses against your neck were searing and his muddled curses sounded like cries. He shoved a hand down your panties, and the way his fingers brushed your core was the most gentle he'd been since this interaction began.

You were the one to shove off his underwear and Eddie wasted no time promptly ramming into you. Your head spun and your blood boiled as his hands clawed into your hips and his raspy voice demanded, "Please stay. For me." Then he called you by your name. Not that silly nickname you'd never favored much. Eddie plead your honest name in your own ear as he fucked you hard enough to send the headboard slamming against the wall.

///

You felt like it lasted forever. But the next thing you realized, you were waking up to sharp rays of sun and Eddie's heavy limbs weighing you down. And as soon as you recalled how your evening ended together, regret flooded your system. Sadness followed suit and before you could process those feelings, a worry moved you to get up and go. With great caution you slipped out of Eddie's loose hold and rushed to gather a change of clothes.

It took you no time to race to the front desk, where a polite attendant informed you the time was eleven in the morning. Waaaay past six. You wanted to curse her and cry and scream. But it was your own fault you missed your flight home.

You spent the next little while hiding in the hotels public loo, dreading finding Eddie still sprawled on your bed. Dreading the conversation the pair of you were eventually going to have to have. Dreading the idea of the rest of the band realizing the guitarist was not in his own room, but had stayed the night in yours.

Eddie had always known you'd dreamt of him having his way with you. But it wasn't how you imagined. It wasn't why you imagined. It felt like the man's last ditch attempt to keep you around one day longer. It didn't feel at all like an act of mutual admiration.

Luckily, he was gone when you got the guts to go back up to your room. And you managed to avoid everyone until it was time to head to the next venue. You would've stayed locked in your hotel room if Tony hadn't come looking for you. He was delighted you'd missed the flight to America, insisting you hurry along to join the others- handing you your camera as if they truly needed more film from you.

///

You sat with arms crossed in the limo on the way to that next show. Drew kept asking you to help him suss out new lyrics he'd been working on, talking to himself, he realized, when you made no effort to put in your two cents. You kept your mouth shut to avoid spewing out all your useless frustrations. You kept your eyes unfocused, refusing to meet Eddies. He was sat across from you, copying your posture, willing you to catch his intensely held gaze. Ben was there too, crying about the girl he fell in love with last night not coming back to his room with him.

In the blink of an eye, music flooded the stadium during the bands sound check, and you cornered Tony once more. Reminding him of how much footage you'd captured already and wondering how much longer you'd need to keep this up. The manager tried to encourage you to stay on the rest of the tour, because it was anyone's guess the antics that would ensue and the band asked you to be there to capture everything. He reminded the more footage you shot the more money you made.

All you could do was nod along with his speech, when he failed to let you get another word in edgewise. Tony's accented rambles became white noise as you drifted through the motions of a good little backstage busy bee. Steaming shirts from wardrobe, mixing drinks, letting your thoughts tear your own heart in two.

It's just what he does. You told yourself. You were the girl in the dark room alone with Eddie that night. You were just in the right place at the right time. As this mantra played through your mind, a voice cut through your thoughts. Eddie was marching toward you with a finger pointed sternly outward.

"We gotta talk about last night." He demanded.

"There is nothing to talk about." You snapped back. "We were drunk." You hurried to turn out of the doorway the other boys were floating in too; ignoring their curious glances as you and Eddie shared a biting words. On your breeze out you decided your destination would be the backlot, a bit of cool air would do you some good before the venue crowded more.

"Please wait." Eddie called after you, "Where are you going?"

"None of your business." You hissed, aggravated by the way he kept his stride to follow behind your own. You tried to lose his trail on yours, swerving past bustling roadies, but were angered further when Eddie reached a hand out to stop you around a corner.

"Are you just gonna stalk me all night? Cause I certainly didn't invite you to join me."

"Why are you so mad at me?" He begged when you stormed past the heavy doors to the private car park. There was a chill in the wind, and a quiet in the night that was more than inviting.

"You seriously didn't just ask me that." The heavy door slammed as Eddie took a step toward you in the dark night.

"I did and I want your answer. Why are you mad? You told me to keep kissing you! You were the one ripping my fucking pants off!"

"You fuck anything with legs, Eddie! I was waiting for you to tell me that you loved me! That I wasn't just the warm body of the night, the closest thing for you to take to bed. It's my fault too, for expecting sex to matter more when we had it. But the whole thing broke my heart, Eddie. You've known how I've felt about you all this time! But you didn't sleep with me because you liked me. You slept with me to get me to stay."

You struggled to hold back tears, the vice around your throat making the words hard to spit out but you made sure he knew you meant them. His face contorted into a confounded grimace. A look you'd never seen him pull before. Eddie stepped forward again, extending an arm out to you as he began to declare,

"It did matter! I do-"

Before he could finish the backstage door flew open with a thud and a roadie stuck his breathless head out to say... "Eddie, your guitar, it's an emergency you need to come in right now."

"Fuck!" Eddies voice dropped with defeat. He let his arms fall as he spun on his heels to reluctantly face the issue.

The roadie anxiously hurried the guitarist inside and when the heavy stage door finally slammed shut and Eddies muttered curses faded behind it, you let your frustrated tears bubble to the surface.

///

The next week went the same. You sat on opposite ends of tables and corners of the room, away from Eddie. He tried, though, to include you in card games- bringing you styrofoam cups of tea between soundchecks and after shows. You couldn't help but let a grin grow across your lips when he approached you with that pleading look in his eye, but you bit back those smiles best you could and shook your head at his every offer.

Then Eddie would pick a groupie, any groupie, shove those styrofoam cups into her grasp, give her a hand of cards, and shoot glares your way for the next twenty four hours. You were replaceable.

During some midday dart game they demanded you film, the band gathered the collective guts to ask what the hell your problem had been the past few days. You shrugged and mentioned missing home, wishing aloud once more Tony would hook you up with another ticket to Hawkins and approval from MTV. Ben worried instantly, you'd been his closest friend out here. Lonnie and Drew wouldn't hear of it, coxing you to stay, asking Eddie to pitch in his encouragements.

"Tired of fucking trying." He spat angrily, chucking a dart to the board so forcefully it clattered against the wall. Everyone got quiet as Eddie kicked himself out of that greenroom.

Ben managed to get you alone, that same evening, demanding to know what the fuck was really going on.

"I don't just like him. I love him. And you know how bad that can hurt." You admitted with a frown. Ben pursed his lips and nodded a little before pulling you into his side with one arm.

"I'm sorry, angel. Let's just get through the rest of this tour, yeah?"

You nodded and followed the guy to the hotel lobby bar, where he paid for all the shots you shared. Ben got you to talk about what happened between yourself and the guitarist that had the pair of you so obviously at odds. It felt good to get off your chest. Ben was a good listener, and you knew given his recent tumultuous love life that he'd know where you were coming from.

The band put on a kick ass show that night; after Eddie lost the dart game and you'd gotten buzzed enough in the hotel bar to be able to dance along to the bands set by night fall. You slept on the ride back home, unbothered, while the band chatted aimlessly with the MTV rep.

///

The balcony of your hotel room was almost the perfect escape, a little corner of the world you could sit out in without feeling trapped in another room, in another venue. Just you and a vast expanse of trees and stars and the far off view of the city to the north. As you swayed between the sliding doorway and the warm inside of the room, deciding it was best to call it bedtime, there was a knock, soft and gentle.

"Can we talk? Please." Eddie was there he is wearing his glasses. He begged your real name again, and you could see how tired he was. If he wanted sleep he would've been dreaming by now. But he was here at your door, and you'd missed him despite yourself, despite your heartache. So you let him in.

"It's 2am." You worried. The band had an early morning scheduled.

Eddie nodded, taking in the features of your room. And when he asked you out onto your balcony, you couldn't help but smile to yourself. The Australian wind was warm even at night. So there you sat in chairs facing each other, settling into the silence that had grown increasingly louder between the pair of you over the past few days.

"I'm gonna tell you something. And it's going to sound stupid. And I understand if you won't believe me. But it will be the truth, finally."

"Finally?"

"I never didn't like you back." Eddie said, wincing, as if he knew you were going to roll your eyes at the remark.

"Eddie don't-" You were going to warn him not to take the conversation down this path. If he wanted to talk through what happened that was one thing, but he seemed to just keep hurting you more each time he tried.

"No, just listen. Please let me say everything, and then you can take it however you want. Please." Eddie begged. He'd been begging you a lot, the past few days. He took the glasses off his face to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. You huffed a sigh and sat back in resignation, bringing your knees to your chest. Eddie leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he went on to speak up again.

"I've had a thing for you, like, this whole time. Like nothing I've ever felt for anyone else. But it was always easier for me to play it off like a joke, like we do. Because I always thought you deserved better. I've always been made to feel like such a dirtbag. I've never felt capable of much in life, you know how hard it was for me to even get out of fucking highschool. I never expected this band to get as big as it has. And even still I'm waiting for it all to blow up in my face. That's why, I think, I let myself get so caught up with all the fame. Because I've been so scared of this all ending. Of being the one to fuck it up." He laughed a little laugh, one filled with what seemed like disgust.

"All that to say that I don't think I'm any good for you, angel. I fucking love you. That's why I wanted you here. That's why I showed up to your room that night. I wanted to kiss you, because I love you. But I.... I did sleep with you to get you to stay... I'm a giant fucking dirtbag. I wish I would've gone about it in a totally different way. Sleeping with you, I mean. That I would've finally gotten the guts to do it because I love you, and not just to stop you from walking out the door. You deserve someone ten thousand times better, smarter, more capable than me. Always have. I'm so sorry I got you so caught up in all this bullshit."

As you sat and listened, Eddie broke your heart all over again with each new word. Flashbacks of the night you spent together bolted past your vision. Memories of the way Eddie smiled at you in that dirty old garage back home, and all the times he'd kiss the crown of your head before a show.

"How fucking dare you decide that you, exactly as you have been, exactly as you are, are not what I deserve." You sat up, letting your feet find the floor as you leaned in to meet Eddies eye. "You're saying we could've been something this whole time, you and me? And you bring me out here and you make me take care of you and you take me bed, and you still won't let me love you?"

"I-I know, I'm sorry I-" Eddies voice wavered and his eyes glossed over with tears, as realization set in.

"You stare me down while you let dozens of girls press themselves all over you, you stop me from hooking up with even one well meaning stranger. Then you fuck me and turn around and tell me you don't think I deserve it, so I still have no shot with you? Do you realize how shitty-"

As you let out your unfiltered frustrations, Eddie started to cry. The tears that had welled in his eyes fell as he kept his sorry gaze locked on yours, when he wasn't blinking hard.

"I don't know why I let this all blow up. Or why I was so scared to just talk to you about this before. I wish I could have gone about it differently, I do. And the thing is I really think I'm in love with you. And I know that I'm making you even more upset by saying all this."

"Well there is a big fucking difference between thinking and knowing." You warbled, your soul aching at the sight of Eddie in such distress. " You've got a lot to prove, if it's true."

"You... you would let me prove it? I haven't entirely fucked everything up?"

"Even if you have, I'm pretty in love with you, remember? Guess you're just lucky that I can't seem to help it. And that's all I meant that night. I wanted you to prove that you cared that I stayed. Not just that you wanted me to."

You talked for a while longer about how swept up in the lifestyle Eddie had become, and how he was living as if all this would end tomorrow. You reminded him that he'd gotten here by way of the very real talent and charisma he had, and no one could take that away from him. You reminded him he had an early morning radio show appearance and that he should get some sleep. And because of his big sad eyes you told him he could stay with you, if he kept his hands to himself. If he really loved you, you'd be more than a quick shag, like all the other girls. Like you were just two nights ago.

"I'm sorry for everything." Eddie stressed all the right syllables, and said so again with even more meaning. "I'm gonna do better." You let him curl against you and apologize himself to sleep as you pet back his hair and assured the guy it was all sort of okay. He had broken your heart, but you were starting to see the bigger picture now.

Despite the pain he'd caused you throughout the course of this tour, you recalled the Eddie you'd known so well before all the fame. You recalled the Eddie from the in between moments, when he'd break out of his stupor enough to make sure you were watching his guitar solos, to make sure you had enough room in the limo. You admired the Eddie at your side now, how you knew he meant what he said. How he'd come to you and stayed and said he'd wanted to stay.

And a tiny hope stayed aflame in your soul that this could actually all work out.

///

The next morning was a rough one, waking up from barely any sleep and being rushed to an interview before the sun rose was an odd form of cruelty. Corroded Coffin managed to look alive during an unplanned photo shoot that followed. You filmed a bit of their tried and true efforts to cause a bit of ruckus, as they posed.

Then came lunch. A small diner on a precarious mountaintop was an unexpected but welcomed respite.

"Black coffee.... four sugars." You glared at Eddie, presenting him the drink as he smile and you slid into the booth across him. You watched as Eddie tradded you a juice he'd previously ordered on your behalf, before taking the coffee mug in his ring clad grasp.

"You're good at it." He mused.

"Huh?"

"There was this girl in Munich. Bless her, she tried. She woke me up one morning with breakfast in bed. Asked me how I took my coffee, I told her. She did it. She got me black coffee with seven sugars. I was pretty disappointed ya know?"

"She gave you what you asked for, Ed." You laughed, a little confused.

"She didn't for one second screech about how unhealthy or gross all the sweet stuff was. She only brought me one coffee closer to diabetes and left me board without anyone to banter with." He laughed. "But you're good at it. Taking care of me."

You just grinned, racking your brain about the place you'd found yourself in. About how Eddie was speaking to you now, and what his words meant.

"Are mom and dad done fighting?!" Drew rang, balancing several plates of breakfast food, setting them on the table to join the booth you and Eddie sat in.

"We're working on it. I'm working on it." Eddie responded, looking right at you.

///

The birthday song boomed from the speakers of a stadium, as Ben sang to Lonnie on stage, leading the audience of thousands to join in. You were in charge of toting out a cupcake in honor of the singers celebration, handing him the dessert in front of several thousand spectators. In one hand, a cupcake, in the other, your camera.

You let your viewfinder pan across the roaring audience before focusing back on the band. Eddie had swiped a bit of icing from Lonnie's birthday treat with one finger for his own. Drew was signing the birthday song again, putting a vulgar spin on the lyrics before the singer insisted the show continue on.

You hurried off stage then, putting your camera away to enjoy life before your own eyes. After Eddie had played the band off stage one by one with a face melting guitar solo, he came bounding right to you. He planted an icing flavored kiss on your lips, a quick, affable gesture- before dashing back onto stage for an encore. He was doing a damn good job of making your head spin, these days.

///

Eddie's attention the rest of the tour, was fully yours. Between shows, he was still parting through crowds to offer you a bottle of Coke. He was still making sure you had a spot at shared dinner table, or dinner plans in general. But if you declined an offer or had to raincheck, you saw no one take your place at his side. He didn't give up.

Eddie left the groupies corralling together, batting their lashes best they could to seduce the guy into plucking one of them out of the buch to play a card game. But he didn't. He only waited for you to join, or left the spot meant for you empty.

"Dinner plans?" His voice wondered hopefully in your ear, as his fingers curled to hold your waist close.

"Lucky for you, Lonnie canceled on me again." You smiled with a roll of your eyes.

"I know, I told him to." Eddie grinned a wicked grin, grabbed your hand and led the way. "Come on kid, this is gonna be a good one."

When the limo deposited the pair of you back at the hotel, you were puzzled. Eddie just kept his mischievous smile and excitedly pulled you along in a rush.

His room was set up with candles and a room service cart full of finger foods and lots to drink. Eddie made a quick call and within moments there was a full bloody five course meal being wheeled into the room.

"Go on, dig in while it's still hot." Eddie nudge you to sit at the head of a haphazardly set, candle lit table, as he rushed around the suite in search of something. You watched as your dear friend set up his portable record player and started to pick through the stack of vinyl he'd bought at the start of the tour. He pulled out the record you'd chosen that long ago day in Monaco, and you couldn't hide your gaiety, giggling past bites of perfectly roasted veggies. You never dreamed there would be time for an evening like this, on tour, or ever, with Eddie.

The guy sauntered over to the table then, pouring you wine before helping himself to all the same things.

"So what happens for you after this tour ends?" Eddie wondered.

You shrugged, noshing. "I go back to the apartment, look for a job I hate less, I don't quite know." You talked about how you'd have enough money saved up from filming to quit your 9 to 5 and still live comfortably for a few months.

"Well I have two questions for you, then."

"Ask em."

"Will you be my date to the documentary premiere? You have to go, since you basically made the whole thing, and I have to go, since I am the star." Eddie boasted with a roll of his eyes that got you to chuckle. "I'd love to walk down that red carpet with you on my arm."

"Setting the bar high for future dates, making the first such a big event." You grinned.

"You can stay at the place the record company has me hooked up with, in L.A., that weekend. And if you wanted to, you could come house shopping with me."

"Is that your second question?"

"No, you actually have no choice there. I'll need your executive decision, picking between expansive Beverly Hills properties." Eddie winked. "My second question is, once we find the perfect mansion, why don't you stay there with me for good? The only way any place will ever feel like home is if you're there."

You gapped at Eddie, mid bite. How was it he kept surprising you? How was it your heart hammered harder every day for this silly little metalhead? How was it he was so fond of you all the while?

"There is nothing in Hawkins to do but work shitty minimum wage retail jobs and waste away. And with all your potential, opportunities are endless for you in L.A.... Plus, all your best friends will be living it up in the city of angels without their very own guardian angel. I'll be without you. And I find that all to be totally unacceptable." He pointed, finishing his plate. You watched Eddie speak, taking in every word as he said them, but not to think of your answer. The both of you already knew you'd say yes. You just wanted to soak up every meaning of the moment you lived in with Eddie, appreciate every detail of the way he'd asked you to continue living life at his side.

"I want you to live with me, and I want us to do this thing, and I want there to be an us."

"What's the dress code?" You chuckled, overwhelmed by his onslaught of hopeful interrogation.

"To our first date at the premier? Black tie, but make it metal. To our Beverly Hills mansion? Well, I was hoping there wouldn't be any at all..."

"Then I'm in." You grinned, giggly and wine buzzed. And with ease, you leaned across the table corner, reached for Eddie, and kissed him. He hummed sweetly, kissing you back right away. It wasn't long before he'd had enough of the space between you, tugging on your sleeve to pull you into the seat he sat in.

"You'll be mine, then? Officially and forever and ever?" He grinned, kissed you, and stopped to look in your eye as you answered.

"I've alway been yours, Ed. And I'll always want to be."

The guitarist pushed his lips against your again, moving to stand. He made sure you kept your legs linked around his waist as he rose, stumbling, as wine tipsy as you. Your shared giggles turned into laughter as he maneuvered the both of you to the bed. This was nothing like the first time.

Eddie asked if he could, before he slowly peeled away each of your layers. This was nothing like the first time.

Eddie took his time, letting his rings leave goosebumps in their wake. Letting his gaze fixate on your every curve, letting his eyes well up as he stared in awe of you, of the moment you were sharing together. This was nothing like the first time.

Eddie's fingers caressed your back as you took your time settling into his lap, your breath shuddered and your insides burned with want and your heart felt right at home. You knew this wouldn't be the last time. Eddie kissed you and promised a big future for the pair of you to share. Eddie rocked against you and promised this was your new normal. Eddie promised he was irreversibly and insanely in love with you.

You knew you're life was bound to change, when Tony called you, that day. But you never imagined just how much. You couldn't wait to dream up new realities with Eddie in the spotlight of every vision. You couldn't wait to watch them come true. Loving Eddie was easy. Eddie loving you back was music to your ears.

#joseph quinn #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson fanfic #rockstar!eddie

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hypnotisedfireflies · 5 months

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Fic Writery Thing

I haven't done this one in awhile. Thanks for tagging me, @adhdprincess!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 22! 2. What's your total AO3 word count? 967,602 3. What fandoms do you write for? These days, just TLOU, but I used to write a lot of LOTR, DW, SW ... there used to be variety. 4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Drifter's Dawn Snowqueen of Texas Drifter's Dusk If On a Clear Day A Door Once Opened 5. Do you respond to comments? Yep, always! 6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Probably Dawn, I guess? 7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? ... The Legend of Charro? 8. Do you get hate on fics? I don't get hateful comments, no. 9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yeah, I write smut, but it's usually plot-driven. I'm not writing smutty one-shots these days. 10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? No, not my jam. 11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yeah, and it was a fic I'd taken down, and the person had only posted as many chapters as they'd saved and swapped the fandoms. That was pretty hurtful, because they'd obviously liked my fic enough to save it, and it was in a very obscure fandom so I guess they thought nobody would see it and tell me. Also, readers really liked the story and were heaping praise on this person for it. Ouch. I contacted AO3. 12. Have you ever had a fic translated? No. 13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yeah, I love collaborative fic writing. 14. What’s your all time favorite ship? I don't deal in absolutes, okay. :p 15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? If On a Clear Day, but that's only because I lost all my notes and I have no idea where that story was going anymore. 16. What are your writing strengths? I'm persistent. 17. What are your writing weaknesses? I'm persistent. 18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Big yes! Thank you @bignosebushybrows who translates my Spanish dialogue in Snowqueen and makes the story so much richer for it, and to @flckrsoflight who translates into French for IO. With their help, I can add a layer of detail and authenticity I cannot achieve myself. xx (Can I also point out the work they actually put into it? Neither just blindly translates, they check with me for context and make sure it has the right flow and meaning, and say things like, 'okay but it would make more sense if...' etc. So like, major effort and care goes into it.) 19. First fandom you wrote for? I want to say Star Wars? By it honestly may have been Police Rescue. 20. Favourite fic you’ve written? That absolutes thing again! I really don't know. I try to challenge myself in a different way in each, so I feel they've each got favourite components for me?

Tagging @march-flowerr @seethesunny @ameerawrites@oliviassunrise

#fic writer meme #fanfic #fic writer #asks

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oonajaeadira · 1 year

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For the Love of Fic: August 21

Now that the busytimes are over, I just desperately wanted to get back to the fic world. And I may have binged a little. No punishments plz. I have a lot of catching up to do.

Also dang, there's a lot of Jack this time around. There must be whiskey in the water...

🪐 = Year of Themed Creation fic

JOEL MILLER

Kindred Spirits by @all-the-things-2020 🪐 It's Anne of Green Gables, but with Ellie and Joel. Really, y'all, this one caught me in my chest and had me tearing up more than once watching Joel come back to life for the love of a new daughter. My heart!!!!!

Surrender Chapter 10 and Chapter 11 by @ezrasbirdie So now we've gotten to the end of Kin and I'm still tense about Joel and Ellie even if I understand that their story will lead them back to Jackson. But now I'm just worried about Daisy. She's so vulnerable, so convinced that love is an accident or will always be so fragile and fleeting, I'm so afraid she'll run from it before she has a chance for it to really sink in. I just want to smoosh her and never let her go.

EZRA

Taking Root by @the-blind-assassin-12 This short story takes place in an existing Ezra storyline, but you don't need to know that series to appreciate this fluffy bit of lovely, heartwarming give and take between Ezra and Cee as they make a gift for someone they love and care for.

E is for Exhibition by @butchmandalorian 🪐 Pro dom!Ezra is back, my beloved, and this time it's sex in a movie theater. He is such a menace and loves his work so much. I really wish the man was real. I am not a BDSM girl, but there's just something about butchmandalorian's Ez that gets me in all the right places.

Kinktober in June: Focus by @leslie-lyman Holy balls, y'all. This is mesmerizing in every single sense of the word: a little hypno-kink will do ya. Even without his arm and his humanity, Ezra still has many skills. The ability to manipulate and get what he wants. A silken voice. Patience. And apparently, that's all you need too.

E. - "Are you sure you're ready for this?" by @missredherring A drabbled writing exercise wherein Miss Red takes the prompt out of the smut box and into a softer place. Which is totally my jam.

Miles and Time by @never--doubt 🪐 Have I said yet how much I love Ezra? Or soulmates? I've never seen this mechanic before--the one where you have numbers on your wrist counting down the distance between soulmates. I love it. There's a lifetime of angst, but man, Ezra's worth the wait.

JACK DANIELS

Draft Release: Dial Up the Jack, Dim the Whiskey by @artemiseamoon 🪐 You know, I had the same reaction to Jack that OFC Bria does here. Initially, I thought he was ridiculous and full of ego, not worth losing my heart to. But she gets to see the Jack that's deep down inside that Whiskey persona and...well...never say never.

untitled by @brandyllyn Hi would you like to be punched in the heart with just 600 words? Why don't you read what happens when Jack comes back from taking another bullet to the skull? I feel like this could be the prologue to a story that could end up so so sweet...but damn, that last sentence is a doozy.

Saying I Love You With Flowers by @songsformonkeys 🪐 I'm not really a flower person myself, but if I was getting them from y crush constantly, I could be converted real fast. Is there anything as lovely as when Jack's both a scamp and a gentleman all at once? He's the master at it and I am a puddle at his feet.

How Wrong You Are by @haylzcyon A short and sweet piece wherein Jack professes his care in the aftermath of a sketchy getaway. Haylz is never over-saccharine, but hits all the notes just right, just like a damn fine Whiskey indeed.

Bangathon: Position: Kneeling Reach Around (with Marcus Pike) and Position: 69 by @prolix-yuy My goodness, LJ is great at the smut and I love how she writes Jack. He's a confident lover, putting the object of his affection exactly where he needs them...and where they will soon understand they need to be. He may go after what he wants, but he never pushes too hard and always makes sure it's what they really want. I would 100% want to be in this man's mustachio'ed embrace. Yee-effin-haw.

JAVI GUTIERREZ

Music Box: Prologue by @beecastle Aw yeah, we're getting Little Mermaid AU! This is a quick prologue setting us up for wanting more--both in terms of story AND in terms of the reader character wanting to learn more about humans. I'm hoping there's a certain sweet human in her eyeline soon....

To Your Rescue by @flightlessangelwings 🪐 Oh to be in the employ of Javi Gutierrez. To have his attention, his yearning looks, his protection. Really, my favorite thing would be to fall asleep watching movies with him...and you'll get that here too.

Litha by @grogusmum 🪐 Javi and his beekeeper girl are sweet as honey and I'm not gonna shy away from saying so. I love that he appreciates her taking an interest in his hobbies and family celebrations and shows that he cares for her interests by helping her celebrate a sweet Midsummers!

MARCUS MORENO

Taste by @@radiowallet I generally don't read Marcus but I will always ALWAYS make an enthusiastic exception for Cat's Marcus. He is a true hero, both sweet and confident, pulled so ardently by his needs but really getting off on saving the day for you. And, of course, there's Cat's style of writing which is song in itself. If anyone can make me fall in love with period sex, it's her, it's Marcus, it's this sweetly smutty fic in all its soft, yearning glory.

TIM ROCKFORD

First Mistake by @hopeamarsu 🪐 I am really delighted by this little character study. Hopes took what we see in the trailer and turned it inward, focusing on Tim's physical sensations and trains of thought. The way he registers the take-out he's eating, how he craves the whiskey in his desk drawer, his frustration as he looks at the clue board trying to make that crucial connection. It's a beautiful little piece, simple and yet full of so much.

PERO TOVAR

untitled by @writeforfandoms I am such a sucker for Jen's modern-not-modern Pero. He is learning, but still such a menace and a hedonist that I can't help but giggle at him and adore him in equal measure. I love when his puppydog nature rears its head like it does here as he tries to keep his reader all to himself on a nice picnicy day...

JAVIER PEÑA

The Third Date by @lowlights What Laura has done here is pretty much described my perfect third date with Javier. I mean, it's Javi being soft, giving his attentions, doing soft naughty things in public. But even more than that, it's tacos, y'all. Sign me up.

DIN DJARIN

Year of Small Joys: Stargazing by @keldabe-kriff 🪐 I love that Lyr is focusing on small joys. It's totally my jam to see my favorite characters just having a moment of peace or happiness, just to see their reaction to something I find lovely or to hear their thoughts about something I'd never stopped to notice. This time it's Din and stars, which really should be old hat for him. But he still finds a beauty in stargazing...

OBERYN MARTELL

2023 Summer Kiss Prompt #8: Oberyn Martell - Apology Kiss / Jealous Kissing by @something-tofightfor I might be living for this modern AU playboy Oberyn and his proclivity to be vulnerable in my presence, to open up and be real when hurt feelings are on the line. He did wrong, but I think he'll make up for it, and boy howdy do I want to be on the receiving end of that.

SPECIAL GUEST CORNER

OBI-WAN KENOBI

A Chance Taken by @ghostofskywalker 🪐 I know that Obi-Wan has his duty, but wouldn't it be nice if he always harbored feelings and had plans to settle after the war? This one is living that dream....I wants it.

BOROMIR

The Advice of Hobbits by @ironmandeficiency I mean, nobody should take advice from Merry and Pippin. And so it goes without saying that nobody should take love advice from Merry and Pippin. Ever. Poor Boromir. But I'm not gonna lie. The results are pretty cute.

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danpuff-ao3 · 8 months

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I was wondering if you had any recommendations for fics with jealous Snape? I love love love your work - Cruel Summer introduced me to your wonderful writing, which lead me down the Snarry rabbit hole 🥰🩷

Hello there! What excellent taste you have 😎 With the jealous Snape, I mean. I'm a sucker for jealousy in fics. All those ugly emotions other people don't like very much? Sign me up!

I'm also so glad you loved Cruel Summer and have read more of my work! That makes my heart so glad to know, thank you! 🥰

There's not half enough jealous!Snape fics for my liking, but I've gathered a few here and I hope you find some you like! I won't bother self reccing as you're already reading my works 🤭 Happy reading!

Foundations (or Where Do We Go From Here)

by avioleta. Rated: E. Words: 17,788. Hogwarts Eighth Year. First Time. Angst with a Happy Ending.

After the war, Severus retreats to the solitude of his dungeons. There are potions to brew, repair work to be done, and lessons to plan. But then Harry Potter begins turning up at all hours, wanting little more—it seems—than to irritate Severus. Severus doesn’t know what Potter wants. But he doesn’t know what he wants, either. From the original prompt: Severus knows it’s not love or even affection that brings Harry Potter to his rooms at night.

A Long Time Coming

by Conzieu. Rated: E. Words: 191,133. UST. Harry/other. Happy ending.

There are signs from the days after the battle of Hogwarts that there is much more to Severus and Harry’s relationship than the conflict and hatred that had define it until then. It will take ten years of changes, personal growth, and maturing, as well as one year when both of them change careers and return to Hogwarts, for their feelings to finally overcome their prejudices, assumptions and fears and for the love of these soulmates to triumph.

Blowing Smoke

by DawnofTomorrow. Rated: E. Words: 231,967. Slow burn. Getting together. Self-discovery. Bottom!Snape. Oblivious!Harry. Pining. Awkward flirting.

Harry doesn't care about Snape beyond having to sit detentions with the man despite being of age. He doesn't. He asks him out for a drink just to get out of detention. So what if it's... nice? So what if they become friends? So what if Snape *is* lonely? It's not Harry's problem - at least not until he realises he's accidentally befriended the man, and just how much he cares for Snape. Well, shit.

Tart

by gracerene. Rated: E. Words: 652.

Written for the prompts: Pairing: Severus Snape/Harry Potter Prompts: This desire is eating me up… Word Prompts: jam, jealous, jackhammer Kink: Partially clothed sex

The Potter Phenomenon

by ines_iz. Rated: E. Words: 31,548. Internalized homophobia. Angst. Eventual fluff. Postwar. Coming out. Professor Harry Potter. Pining. Jealousy.

When Harry Potter, queer star of the Wizarding World, returns to Hogwarts as the new Defence professor, Severus Snape is not happy. In fact, he is positively outraged. Not only does Severus have to endure the man's obnoxious behaviour (not to mention his ridiculous sense of fashion), but he also ends up being dragged into Potter's attention-seeking plans — and, ultimately, is forced to face a few demons of his own. Or: Harry Potter Goes Gay (and the entirety of Hogwarts Goes Gay with him)

Appearances

by Queen_of_the_Castle. Rated: G. Words: 186.

Harry and Draco spend a lot of time together. Severus suspects Harry of cheating.

Pandora Awakes

by whitecotton. Rated: E. Words: 1,390. Harry/other. Tragedy. Angst. Voyeurism.

Legend has it that hope is left inside Pandora’s box. However, it is the other things that were released when the box was opened that hold our attention.

#danpuff recs #snarry

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iaus · 3 months

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HELLO. for starbreaker questions and prompts: your thoughts/takes/headcanons on things like Jace's metamagic, Porter's paladin auras, other fun elements of their classes that have that type of measurable effect on their physical presence in the world (if that makes any sense!)

OUGH MY JAM. i love talking about this stuff. i love dnd. i love the game. i will ignore rules as written at the drop of the hat for story telling purposes.

so i know i talked about like stats and such a bit... way back. so i'm gonna reference my little character sheet. (which i keep having to open because i'm so scared of accidentally giving jace spells i don't mean to HELP)

but okay i'm putting this under a read more because i uh. word vomited in the club again.

but on my jace character sheet i have him down with:

heightened spell. i'm not going to lie i picked this one specifically because i feel like he would use things like friends, command, and dominate monster a lot in like. every day life. (i have definitely written more than one scene where he uses command on porter and porter is fucking furious about it. porter will i think almost always fail that save btw. i have his wisdom at a +1 and jace's spell save DC at a 22 soooo. better burn that legendary resistance if you have it babygirl)

subtle spell. which is actually one of my personal favorite metamagics and i think he'd also use this one a lot in his day-to-day life for little things. i know it's nowhere supported in canon (and i'm actually probably going against canon tbh) but i really like jace being a very competent and nasty spellcaster so i've made his character sheet reflect that. like. i can just imagine him in a boring professional development and he uses a subtle spell to detect thoughts everyone in the room to entertain himself. or using a subtle spell friends to get out of a conversation he doesn't want to have.

quickened spell. i like the idea of jace having this frenetic energy all the time even when he's presenting as being chill and laid back. so a quickened spell just enables him to shorten his spells even though an action out of combat is so quick. like he doesn't have time to devote six seconds to this spell and he hand waves the spell so he can get back to his more important tasks.

careful spell. finally this one i selected is like. the one that i think is the most out of place. in my own little universe i really do think jace had plans to be an adventurer. so this was his one little concession for his party. but it's also funny because i revised his spell list a bit (i had him with fireball at first, but went back on that). so i think, now that i think about it, i would probably change this one on his character sheet to extended spell. after switching to a solo adventurer track and leveling up on his own he would be like FUCK THAT i'm never working with anyone ever again.

and this is how porter gets chain lightninged during a teamwork PD

and for porter...

i've done a lot of mulling on his multiclass make up and ended up solidly believing in an 18-2 barb-paladin class which makes him arguably the funniest and most ineffective guy to teach any MCAT paladins because he just has none of the features.

fun fact! i have head canoned him as a path of zealot barb because it feels suiting and the class features.... are fun.... :)

but! i have actually thought about what his oath would be. it's actually really funny because i was so into looking into what i think are less popular oaths that i forgot that there even was an oath of conquest LMAO.

so here is my take on porter's oath (before he becomes an oathbreaker teehee): i think he's an oath of glory. NOW. BEFORE I LOSE YOU. i've put. so much thought into what porter's backstory might be and my argument is that his paladin levels, if he managed to get to an oath, are early like. he might have spent his freshman/sophomore year of aguefort as a paladin.

my headcanon is that his mom and dad are paladins (and his little siblings are a mix of paladins and clerics) but porter was always just born with this rage. so i think porter started aguefort at level 2 (i actually have thoughts about the school system and the leveling and that i think all adventurers at aguefort should at least be level 3 BUT I DIGRESS).

point is i think porter's family wasn't like. evil. i think he came to this plan of taking ankarna's place on his own so he actually started out somewhat fitting with the oath of glory before his rage just became too much and he eventually abandoned his oath. (which leads to the 18-2 barb/pala

BUT. here's the description of oath of glory:

Paladins who take the Oath of Glory believe they and their companions are destined to achieve glory through deeds of heroism. They train diligently and encourage their companions so they're all ready when destiny calls.

kinda... suiting. huh. as long as you ignore the deeds of heroism (ha).

i also really like oath of glory for him because if he DID do something like an 11-9 split he would get some really cool spells like guiding bolt, heroism, enhance ability, magic weapon, haste. it seems to suit him before he got flanderized.

also inspiring smite is SO cool and i see porter as adventurer turned teacher so:

Inspiring Smite. Immediately after you deal damage to a creature with your Divine Smite feature, you can use your Channel Divinity as a bonus action and distribute temporary hit points to creatures of your choice within 30 feet of you, which can include you. The total number of temporary hit points equals 2d8 + your level in this class, divided among the chosen creatures however you like.

and

Aura of Alacrity. You emanate an aura that fills you and your companions with supernatural speed, allowing you to race across a battlefield in formation. Your walking speed increases by 10 feet. In addition, if you aren't incapacitated, the walking speed of any ally who starts their turn within 5 feet of you increases by 10 feet until the end of that turn.

this would be neat. (stuff like this... would also have made him a more interesting final boss.............)

LIKE.

it is interesting to me that porter... did seem like he cared about his students. like. i'm not going to lie porter like personally rankled me for a long time before his evil reveal because he reminded me a lot of teachers that i hated in high school. like i get it. i hate your fucking pedagogy. but. it seems like he had some sort of care. even if it manifested in fucking horrid ways.

but yea i do think oath of glory is a really fun option for porter if he did take an oath at any point. it adds some flavor.

also. i think it is so funny but if porter has only 2 levels in paladin he literally only has 10 lay on hands and smites. you don't get divine health until level 3.

that man can still get diseases.

but i do think he lies and is like i'm a paladin don't worry jace i can c-

never mind.

#.asks #IM CRYING THIS GOT SO LONG?

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vaya-writes · 2 years

Text

The Wyvern's Bride - Part 3.3

When Adalyn gets sacrificed to the local wyvern, she’s a little annoyed and a lot terrified. Upon meeting the wyvern, she discovers that he’s not particularly interested in eating people, and mostly wants to be left alone. In a plot to save himself from the responsibilities his family keep pushing on him, Slate names Adalyn as his human Envoy, and tasks her with finding him a wife.

4800 words. Cis female human x Cis male wyvern (slow burn, arranged marriage, eventual smut). firefly-graphics did the divider.

Masterlist - Previous

Get excited. A large portion of this is Slate's POV. And by the Gods please don't let me edit this a third time. I'm done. If I left any filler words or random parts bolded for later fixing, no I didn't.

Slate is gone when Adalyn wakes. She’s sensing a pattern and wonders how he manages to wake and leave before she does, despite her baker instincts to be up before sunrise.

Not in any rush, Adalyn fortifies herself with a cup of tea out on the balcony, snacking on some old biscuits. She cooks jam on toast over the fire, frowning at the mess cluttering the hearth. She takes a moment to straighten the equipment and jars – she's keen to get cooking, but with Slate’s explicit permission to organise his belongings, part of her is tempted to spend the morning rearranging.

Still, they’d purchased a week’s worth of groceries yesterday, and she plans to experiment. After she’s fed and dressed, she heads down to the kitchen, lighting the room once she arrives. They’d visited Northpoint, the main trade hub of the valley, and Adalyn had managed to procure some sugar. Slate had smiled at her excitement at seeing the ware, and purchased the merchant’s whole stock.

She spends half the morning baking, experimenting with recipes that exist only as scraps in her family journal, or as fragments in her memory. The shortcrust biscuits are a little sweet and the pastries don’t keep the shape she wants, but the sweet rolls turn out beautifully, and she makes note of the recipe she’d used.

When the dining area begins to lighten, Adalyn starts to prepare lunch. She packs a basket, and is off towards the main-way, excited to showcase her food for the day.

Slate is working on the same passage as last time, and she waits expectantly by the stream bank as he washes off and joins her on the blanket she’d laid out.

“Potato and leek pottage. Bread of the day. Wine,” she gestures to each in turn.

He smiles. “You’re an absolute blessing, Adalyn.”

She blushes and stares at her food. “There’s like three breads of the day, but this one turned out best.”

Slate lets out an appreciative groan when tears into the loaf and raises it to his nose. “I believe you.”

They eat in silence for a few minutes, before Adalyn tries to start a conversation.

“What are you working on today?”

Slate grins at the inquiry. “I’ve pretty much dug to the right spot. Now it’s time to start hollowing out a living space.”

“What do you do with all the stone?”

He shrugs. “I set it aside. Most of it is good for sculpting. I can use it for furnishing, or steps, or block facades. Though some of it is as good as slag by the time I’m through.”

Adalyn nods contemplatively. Realises that they’re sitting in a makeshift limestone quarry. She’s musing about the other uses of the stone, wondering if there’s any further use, or if Slate would sell the material when he interrupts.

“Have you given any thought to what you’ll call your wing?”

She starts from her thoughts. Raises a brow. “Can’t I just call it my wing? My chambers. My tower?”

“You can. But where’s the fun? It’ll be big enough to be its own fort, at least.”

A pang of unease goes through Adalyn. If she were self-reliant in her quarters, wouldn’t that mean less reason to visit Slate and the Tower?

She shrugs, pushing the feeling down. “From the valley they look like they’re in a row. Sometimes we number them. The Tower is fifth...”

Slate hits his knee with a fist, excited. “I like the way you think. That’d make your mountain the fourth?”

“Yes.”

“We could call it Fourth Spire? Fothspire? Fourth Peak?”

Adalyn busies herself with her food. Watching the enthusiasm in Slate’s demeanour stings, just a little. “Fourth Spire is fitting.”

There’s a silence while they eat. Slate shoots Adalyn some careful stares, sensing something amiss. “What are your plans for the day?”

Adalyn glances to the sky. The sun is high overhead, stretching into the afternoon. “Dunno. Maybe I’ll clean your desk.” She means it as a joke, but considers with some seriousness.

Slate purses his lips. “If it makes you happy, dearest.”

She takes pity on him and huffs a laugh. Some of her tension seeps away. “Did you have a system you’d like me to adhere to?”

He pouts down at his food. “Not presently.”

“And the books you’ve left out. They’re quite numerous...”

He fidgets. “I might be referencing some of them.”

“Even the ones left on the floor?”

“Well, maybe not those.”

Adalyn teases him with a smile. “I also meant to inquire about your book-marking system.”

He meets her eyes, despairing. “... What book-marking system?”

“The one where you leave books open or close them on a variety of... strange things. Feathers. Receipts. Fabrics. Unidentified plant matter.”

He shifts. “Well, you know dog earring is terrible for parchment.”

“So is staining the pages with potion ingredients, dearest.” She pushes back with the new endearment.

He covers his silence by scraping the bottom of his bowl.

Adalyn relents. “If they’re not an elaborate bookmarking system I’ll just remove them then? At least from the books not currently in use?”

He relaxes a bit. “I should be grateful for your care, Adalyn. I admit the treatment of my hoard is not always delicate.”

She permits another soft smile. “Would that I knew how to care for your belongings. I’ve never cleaned armour or weapons, and I fear to touch half of your possessions for worry of mistreating them.”

He stretches. Gives her a sheepish look. “I’ll show you then. If you’ll remain patient. I’m not fond of cleaning but you’ve my permission to wrest the best methods out of me.”

She raises her brows. Considers the chance to spend more time with her husband, under the guise of learning and cleaning.

Weary at her interest, Slate stands and dances back. “Later, though. You’ll not have me that easily.”

She scowls at him. “Tease.”

---

By sunset Adalyn has cleared the walkways significantly. She doesn’t know how so many tomes found their way onto the floor when they’d tidied less than a week prior. Slate exudes a special kind of chaos. Despite his list and his priorities, it seems the wyvern can’t help but start other projects on a whim, falling victim to tangents and rabbit holes much too easily.

She doesn’t even know what half his side projects pertain to. Just that their shopping trip in the valley had resulted in them visiting all three major settlements and stopping to speak with every experienced tradesperson they crossed.

He’d been so enthused by the time they got home – evening, despite their morning start – that he’d raced off to work on something that night and had completely missed dinner.

He’d eaten at least – the food was gone when she woke this morning. Along with her husband. And with Slate dismissing her at lunch – albeit playfully – and now running late for dinner again, Adalyn feels the itch of rejection chafing at her once more.

She knows it was foolish to assume that it’d be a perfect transition. That things between them would stay simple and easy. They've been married... five days now. Complications are to be expected.

But she still wonders if Slate even notices her disconnect. If he feels as estranged as she does. She doesn’t know if he’s rushing the construction of her quarters because he wants her gone, or if he’s being dutiful and kind, or if he’s just hyper-fixating on his next big project. She doesn’t know, because he hasn’t given her any indication. Hasn’t spoken to her about anything serious. Has barely spent any alone time with her.

She finishes her dinner and covers Slates before standing to pace, restless. She scours the room for something else to do before flopping into the desk chair and scowling at Slate’s desk. Blueprints and plans are scattered around.

Part of her feels small and dumb. Because each night after dinner, if he remembers to attend, Slate spends hours poring over these papers, drafting out his plans and thumbing through his reference books. Small and dumb because of the jealousy she feels towards some parchment. She wants to resent the paperwork. Envies the attention Slate gives it.

But she relaxes incrementally and lets out a sigh. She doesn’t hate his work. Listening to him talk about engineering and different types of construction, watching him get so animated; she feels guilty for being so angry over something that obviously brings him so much joy.

And it’s not as if Slate had promised her romance.

He’d married out of self-interest. To discourage his family. An act of pettiness, or rebellion, she’d thought when he’d first revealed the plan.

It only hurts because she likes him.

Her fingers brush the scale that she keeps in her pocket. She grits her teeth at the acknowledgement. Then pushes the thought away. Her feelings for the wyvern aren’t something she wants to contemplate yet, even as she skirts around the truth of them.

Adalyn lets out a sigh and chides herself. There’s no point dwelling on it. Especially if she refuses to act. And tonight, she doesn’t feel like doing either.

---

The following morning, Slate stirs from his spot on the chaise as the room, barely perceptibly, begins to lighten. He groans, stretches, and nearly falls onto the floor. His cheeks darken, despite the lack of audience to his mishap.

Slipping back into autonomy, Slate makes his way to the partitioned wash area and fills the basin with fresh water. He splashes his face and dresses for the day. The sun’s not up yet, but rays of red light – probably imperceptible to the human eye – are filtering into the room. Enough to let Slate know it’s time for him to start the day.

He makes himself coffee. Adalyn had tried the bitter drink once and nearly spat it out, to his great amusement. He supposes that it’s an acquired taste, and as remote as they are, it’s not like any of the locals would have the chance to get used to it.

He scarfs down a handful of Adalyn’s biscuits, puts another log on the fire, and lingers by the bed. He adjusts the blankets on his wife before leaving in a rush, not allowing himself to stare for too long.

It’s a bad habit.

He shouldn’t have started it. Shouldn’t keep indulging it. If she knew how he fussed, how often he touches her without permission... He hates to think of what she’d do if she found out he’d been pushing the boundaries like that. Especially with how touch sensitive humans supposedly are.

Slate flies to the main entrance before shifting into his demi form and going on foot to Fourth Spire. The ground floor is gradually opening up, and he’s paying close attention to the central column.

It’s thick, acting as both a support within the tower, and a centralised route up and down the floors once he hollows it out into a large spiral staircase. He hopes Adalyn likes it. Still, part of his mind ticks away at the design, wondering if there’s anything he can add, anything he can do to make carrying things up and down the Spire any easier for his human wife.

Ready to begin, he lets shadows gather at his fingertips. Feels the weight of keratin form into large claws. In his demi form his muscles are already prepared for the weight the transformation brings. More scales appear across his forearms, the dense patches protecting him from any loose debris that might go airborne.

Then he begins carving.

Taking breaks only to sip at a skin of water, he loses himself in the sounds of the earth and the rhythm of his work, pausing occasionally to check that the angles and measurements aren’t out of order. It has to be perfect. Sure, it’s only the first shaping of the stairs. He’d go over it with his chisels once the basic shape had been found. But he moves carefully, not willing to make any mistakes with Adalyn’s quarters.

She’d been... withdrawn last night. Pale and wan once she’d fallen asleep. There’d been a strange undercurrent in the air when he’d landed on the balcony and found her reading in the back corner.

Seeing his covered dinner plate had shamed him. Once more he’d been late for dinner. Once more he’d promised himself he’d do better. He’d check the sky. He’d stop work early. But deep beneath the surface it’s hard to keep track of the time. Even if his eyes can cut through the dark with perfect clarity, he has no way of knowing what time it is. Especially as he gets lost in his work. (Especially as he can’t find anyone to fix that blasted timepiece).

There’s the crunch of footsteps and he pauses in his work. Turns to regard Adalyn, waiting by the entrance with a torch.

Controlling his delight, Slate wipes his hands on his pants and banishes his claws, trying to appear somewhat collected. Somewhat normal. Human. Palatable, he thinks.

He gives her a polite smile. “What brings you today?”

Her brief lunch visits are perhaps the only time she seems open. Relaxed. He looks forward to their little appointments, even if half the time he doesn’t know what to say or how to act.

She crinkles her nose as she looks around the space. For a moment his heart skips a beat. Is something wrong with it?

“I don’t know how you breathe through all this dust. If a human worked in these conditions they’d probably get black lung.”

Relief floods him at the comment. Then embarrassment. Ancestors, he cares too much about her opinion.

“Black lung is caused by scarring to the lung tissue. Most dracanoids are resistant to minor scarring and damages.”

“Resistant,” Adalyn corrects, “but not immune.”

Her concern is sweet enough, endearing enough, that his smile softens. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Her ears turn pink, and she turns away. “Did you want some lunch?”

He follows her out into the mainway, sheds his footwear, and steps into the stream. The water is icy and he grits his teeth before dunking himself and rubbing the grey dust away.

Curiously, Adalyn doesn’t watch, instead unpacking their blanket and lunch with careful movements, barely sparing him a glance. It’s his second clue that something is up, as most afternoons she can’t keep her eyes off of him, much to his pleasure.

Dripping, but clean, Slate joins her at the makeshift picnic, sitting cross legged across from her. He eats the food with gusto, hoping the sounds and motions can convey what he struggles to do so with words. When Adalyn produces a flask of coffee, still hot, he almost swoons.

“A female after my own heart,” he mutters, sipping at the brew. He misses the way she stills at his words. “So what are your plans for the day?”

She shrugs before drinking from her own flask of tea. “I was just going to explore. Maybe experiment in the kitchen later. Do something different for dinner.”

Something in his chest warms. “I’ll look forward to trying it.”

She huffs. “Don’t be so enthused. I could end up poisoning us if I go too wild.”

“I’m not worried.”

Adalyn is silent for a moment, a strange expression flitting across her face. When she speaks next, her words still roll with the same cadence and volume, but Slate can’t help but feel that there’s something missing in her tone; some of the warmth behind her eyes has waned.

“Is there anything I can eat that you can’t?”

Grateful for the change in topic, Slate takes a moment to consider. “Not really. I think some red dragons can’t eat ice. But otherwise, we’re pretty good at digesting things, even if they’re not particularly nutritious.”

“What do you like to eat?”

Slate bites back a smile. He enjoys Adalyn’s curiosity. Her willingness to learn, and to hear him talk about the things she likes. She never makes it seem like he’s being boring. Even if there’s the occasional moment when he wonders if her mind is elsewhere, or she’s veiling some display of emotion.

“I like all kinds of foods. One of the benefits of living so long and so richly is that I can travel around and try different things. I adore coffee. Though that might be because it’s mildly addictive. I like fish when it’s simple and game when it’s extravagant. I’m not very experienced at cooking many of these things, but I like different spice blends from Shad and the different grains they cook with. I like fruit and berry pastries. Cocoa from the Isles. I prefer my eggs cooked through, and I like the texture of toast when it’s a bit too crispy. But mostly I like variety. Being surprised by my food, or changing things up occasionally.”

He reigns it in when Adalyn stares. There’s an indecipherable look on her face once more, and he pauses, suddenly self-conscious.

“I’m not boring you, am I?”

Her look softens. “I asked.”

Slate drops his eyes. Suddenly overcome with the urge to reach out and touch her, to cup her face, to lean in and taste her breath; he schools his features into neutrality before pulling out another practiced smile. She’s just being friendly. Polite.

“Lunch was wonderful. Thank you, Adalyn.”

She smiles back, soft, but with that shadow of emotion from earlier, the one he can’t quite place.

It’s enough that he finally frowns. Reaches out and touches her hand. “Is something wrong?”

She hesitates, and he waits, giving her the time she needs to find her words. She seems to be thinking hard, conflicted. Eventually she lifts her eyes to his. Bites on her lip.

“It’s silly.”

“I won’t laugh.”

She looks away again. “Will you... show me how to take apart and clean your armour tomorrow?”

He tries not to frown. He has to wonder if she’d changed her mind about what she was going to say. Why look so torn over such a simple request?

“Of course. Is that all?”

She struggles to meet his gaze again. Shrugs. “Yes. I just... I like spending time with you.”

Something in his chest warms. His face too.

“I like spending time with you too, dearest.”

She rolls her eyes at the endearment, but the tension is barely diffused. She still looks uncomfortable.

He’s not sure what to say to make it better. Instead waits, hoping that she’ll break the silence.

After a while, she does. “I’m just- worried.”

He tilts his head.

She shrugs again, trying to downplay the moment. “When you finish the Spire and I move out, what if I don’t get to spend any more time with you?”

He blinks. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him. At least, not as something to worry about. He’d been toiling away in the keep, eager to gift Adalyn with her own space and not considering how she might feel about it. Does she want her own quarters? Will she like living by herself? He hadn’t even thought to ask.

Looking at her now, vulnerable, hardly able to meet his eye, the previous warmth in his chest dissipates, and fractures. He’d messed up.

He flounders for the right words to fix his mistake. To reassure Adalyn, and make that doleful expression go away.

“I- uh. Of course you’ll spend time with me. You have a knack for tracking me down. And I really enjoy our lunches together.”

Her expression barely changes. She just nods, and looks away, before making to stand.

Slate winces and grabs her hand. Stands with her. Blurts the first thought to pop into his head. “I could build a bridge? One from the tower to your Spire? That way you can visit me whenever, and won’t even have to walk the whole keep.”

Her face is blank for a moment. Then he watches as she goes through the effort tilting up the edges of her lips. Summons a spark to her eyes. “Sounds difficult.”

He agrees. “A secret tunnel would probably be easier.”

The smile twitches. “Probably more romantic too.”

He blinks again. Latches onto that train of thought with clawed hands. “Do you like romance?”

She looks away. “I don’t know. I haven’t really tried it.”

There’s a precipice in front of him. A vulnerability he’d yet to show Adalyn. Yet to show anyone really. And while he hesitates to step over it, looking at the cracks in his wife’s composure, and their linked hands, his decision to speak is easily made.

“Neither have I.”

She turns to regard him, face still mostly blank. “You... haven’t?”

“Nope.”

He watches her weigh her words. Shift her weight. Consider the implications.

“I see.”

Adalyn no longer looks quite so melancholy, and it’s a balm on his nerves. But now that the desperate grab for reassurances and comforts is done, he shifts uncomfortably. The silence grates on him, and he wonders what next he should say.

Adalyn saves him the trouble when she floors him with her next question.

“Would you like to?

Slate blinks. Looks sharply at the woman only to find her staring at her feet again, arms wrapped around herself.

“Uh,” his heart is beating too hard, “I hadn’t considered it.” There’s another tense silence. “Would you?”

Despite asking the first question, Adalyn still has the gall to look surprised. She meets his stare, eyes wide for a moment, before looking away. She packs the picnic blanket. Puts their dishes away, slowly, while she deliberates on her answer.

Finally when she stands, she holds her basket in hand, almost as if she’s ready to flee at a moment’s notice. She makes herself meet Slate’s eyes. Composes her expression into one of neutrality again.

“Yes. I think I would.”

His mind blanks.

He doesn’t have it in him to consider the implication of her words while she still stands before him. To consider the surge of... something... in his chest. To get a grip on his emotions and form a coherent response.

But she stands there, waiting for him to reply.

In his panic, he settles on an abrupt change in topic. “Tomorrow then, I’ll show you the armour.” He smiles. Starts backing away, before giving a little wave and turning. His steps back towards the Spire aren’t measured. He practically flees the scene, head reeling.

When he’s out of sight he pauses to lean against the wall and lets himself just marinate in the mix of adrenaline and surprise.

He can hear her still, lingering in the main-way. After a moment he listens to her footsteps fade into the distance, and he lets himself breathe again.

Adalyn wants romance.

Even thinking the words surprises him. Makes him haunted and hopeful. She might be open to advances. She might want somebody else. She might have been speaking on an entirely hypothetical level. And because he ran like a coward he’ll never know, unless he can muster up the nerve to pry further.

Slate abandons the central column and starts working on one of the outer walls. They still need to be taken out, and there’s not many mistakes he can make while doing that. He resummons his claws, still in a daze, and resumes his work, though not grounded in the slightest.

With enough monotony of motion he’s able to push the emotions down and focus on his work. Thought’s still swirl but he’s able to get lost in it, until he is sore and stiff and thirsty. He goes to take a drink and finds his skin empty. He lets out a long breath as the echoes of his labour fade away. It has probably been a while, and he resolves to take a break. To head to the main-way and refill his skin.

When he makes it to the cavern, he catches sight of the sky and curses. The moon is high, and he bemoans how late it must be. Time just keeps getting away from him.

He shifts and takes flight, making a direct beeline to the Tower. He lands on the balcony, trading his wings for his human form.

He’d missed dinner again. Not only that, but Adalyn is already in bed, and her breath indicates that she’s sleeping deeply.

Damn it.

Grinding his teeth at his latest mistake, he fills the bathtub and sheds his clothes. When he’s no longer the colour of chalk or tasting grit in his mouth he dries and dresses, and empties the tub.

Spying dinner on the table, he’s hit with a slew of emotions. Gratitude and adoration. Guilt and sadness. He needs to fix his timepiece. Or pull his head out of his ass and start making time for his wife. If he doesn’t, the next few decades are going to be incredibly stilted, and it would probably be his fault.

Walking past his desk, he pauses when he sees Adalyn’s binder sitting open, a handful of papers poking out. He’s sure she didn’t have nearly as many when she first moved in and unpacked. Curious, he examines one. It almost looks like a blueprint. It’s a birds-eye-view of a room. Or perhaps not a room, judging by the lack of walls or doors. Those are... garden beds. Pots. Plant names. Has Adalyn been planning a garden?

Unable to dampen his curiosity, he slides the other sheets into view. There’re recipes, to do lists, shopping lists, more blueprints. He skims the to do list, written in Adalyn’s tidy print: garden supplies, write Rin, meet with G&G, see jeweller. On the other side is another list, self explanatory: 20x small pots, 10x large pots, 5x crates soil, old garden cuttings, 1x load fertiliser, spade, watering can, water barrel... The list trails off, instead devolving into loose sketches of a rudimentary irrigation system. Slate is impressed.

He puzzles over the next page. Adalyn had drafted a blueprint – two blueprints, of similar design. It’s not up to industry standard, but it’s legible. Slate doesn’t know what to make of the design. Apparently half of the building is to be hewn from the mountain, and a protruding half to be built from wood? He decides to ask about it later.

He sits down for dinner, considering her plans and altering his own. Glass. Wardrobe. Rail. Timepiece. Pots. Soil. Fertilizer. His list is growing. The trip he’s been putting off is starting to look more and more needed, and Slate sighs, wondering if he should just get it over with. It could certainly be a pleasant surprise for Adalyn.

When he finishes cleaning up for the night he hesitates at the foot of the bed. He should just go and lay down on the chaise. Sleep off the fatigue that is starting to cloud his mind.

Instead, he finds himself laying down beside Adalyn and watching her for a moment. He almost immediately wishes he hadn’t as he sinks into the mattress and muffles a sigh. It’d be the only perk, giving Adalyn her own quarters. He’d missed sleeping in the bed.

It seems kind of dumb to him. That humans reserve sex for the bedroom. It makes him self-conscious whenever he enters the space. Is he bothering Adalyn by being here? Is he pushing her boundaries too much? It’s not like she’d say much if he did. Fuck, she’d even offered to share the bed with him, that first night. He’d declined, if only to make sure she wasn’t rushing into things. And she hadn’t asked him back since.

Adalyn rolls. Her back slots against Slate’s chest. Her head rests on his arm. Slate freezes. Scarcely breathing, he waits for her to wake. To jerk away. To do something. Anything.

She doesn’t wake. As the minutes tick by, Slate relaxes fractionally. Lulled by her warmth and lured by her gentle breathing into lowering his guard, Slate lets his eyes close. Inhales deeply.

Just a few more minutes. Then he’d leave. He’d go and sleep on the chaise. Would stop smelling her hair like a depraved pervert. Would pull away from her touch.

Just a few more minutes.

---

“Dearest Adalyn

I need to pick up some supplies from Cheywyn. Unfortunately, I won’t return until tomorrow morning, if things go according to schedule. I’m saddened that I’ll be missing our midday meal, but look forward to returning to you.

Fondest regards

Slate”

She’d woken from a pleasant dream this morning. Warmth against her back, and a hand entwined in her hair. Slate’s absence was not unusual. She’d stoked the fire, started breakfast, and had sat at the table, relaxed and looking forward to the day. Then she’d seen the note.

Adalyn sips her tea on the balcony, eyes trained on the horizon. The letter is clenched in her fist.

#the wyvern's bride #vaya writes #monster romance #wyverns #dragons #tetaro #exophilia #my writing #oh my god this was so long because i wanted to put his pov in this chapter #fuckkkkkkk #fun fact the pov is largely unchanged from the draft #but i had to rework much of the prior conversations and interactions #please validate me #this writing is top notch and the best thing you'll ever read and im so incredible i already know yuo'll love it but also tell me #so i can hear it #pls

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