#everyone please go read it and leave nix all the lovely comments!!!

[every-moment-a-different-sound]

Painland week day 1: Language of love (touch)

tender is the ghost (the ghost I love the most) by @nix-nihili

A hand snaked out to grip Edwin's forearm, the pressure stopping him from peeking out further beyond the edge of the skip. Despite their layers of clothing and the urgency with which Charles had reached out, Edwin could feel the emanating warmth of the touch. It had been years since the very first time; that singular passing gesture that evolved into friendly pats on the back and crowding of personal space on a daily basis. Charles never lingered too long though, always pulling away right before Edwin got the chance to process, to wipe the stunned expression off his face, to drink it in like a man dehydrated. But this was lingering. - Charles has always been a touchy person and Edwin has decidedly not. (He wants to though. Desperately.) or Five times Charles initiates touch over thirty decades and one time it's Edwin.

[navybrat817]

Invisible Ink - Part 2

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader x Steve Rogers Summary: The owners of the Howling Commandos Tattoo Parlor want to make you their best girl. Word Count: Almost 2.8k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, flirting, tension, feels, tattooed Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers (they’re warnings, okay?) A/N: Welcome to the next part of my tattoo AU!  This is direct follow up to Invisible Ink. The smut in this chapter focuses on Steve x Reader, but the next part will feature Stucky x Reader. Beta read by the amazing @angrythingstarlight​, but any and all mistakes are my own. Thank you, lovely! Banner created by yours truly, but Bucky and Steve photos were provided by the talented @nix-akimbo! This AU wouldn’t exist without them. 

18+ Please!!! Please comment, like and reblog if you desire. Enjoy, lovelies!

You nearly dropped your gaze when Steve moved forward, the intensity in his eyes making you shiver. He didn't just walk. He stalked toward you like a predator. Lucky for him, his partner already had you caught in their trap. As if you would have tried to escape. 

"We… what?" you asked, not a single ounce of smoothness rolling from your tongue. Mind-blowing orgasms did tend to shut your mind off briefly and when was the last time you came the way Bucky made you?

The smirk on Steve's face only grew as he got closer. "I told you not to break her."

"Maybe I'm just that good," Bucky smirked back.

That snapped you out of it enough to playfully glare at them. The affection in their tone wrapped around you like a warm blanket. "It takes more than that to break me."

The blonde hummed as he took his spot beside the brunette, who was still inside you. "How many to make you shatter?" he asked, gently gripping your chin. 

No one ever looked at you like they wanted to devour you until you met them. “I guess you’ll have to find out.”

“Buck, why don’t you get cleaned up?” Steve suggested, not taking his eyes off you. 

“Fuck that,” Bucky replied, exhaling as he slowly pulled out of you. Your walls clenched around nothing, empty and aching. “I’ll get dressed, but no point in washing up when I’m getting my dick soaked the moment everyone leaves.”

You smiled before you could stop yourself. “You say that like it’s a sure thing.”

Bucky gripped Steve’s wrist, turning your face toward him. “You said you’d be ours. Or was that just talk?” 

A flash of fear flickered in his eyes and you wondered what exactly he was afraid of. Did he think it was the heat of the moment that made you agree? “We have a lot to talk about, but I said I’m yours. I don’t give my word lightly.”

Both smiled as Bucky dropped his hand, your words making the tension vanish. “That’s our girl,” he said fondly, giving you a soft kiss before he fixed his underwear. “You two have fun.”

Steve chuckled as his friend left the kitchen. “You scared him, sweetheart.”

“I scared him?” you asked incredulously. Could you actually frighten either of them?

“You have no idea the hold you have on us, do you?” he questioned, his grip still gentle on your chin.

Your heart thudded in your chest, suddenly vulnerable even though you were naked on the countertop. What could you say to that? “I…” 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he sighed, leaning in to kiss you. While his gaze was heated and full of fire, his lips brushed yours delicately. He inhaled your breath as your lips parted, gently coaxing your tongue into his waiting mouth. His hand left your chin as he deepened it, sliding down to palm your breast.

“Steve,” you breathed as his thumb brushed your nipple. 

“Wanted you for so long,” he admitted, his lips sweeping over your neck. “Woke up hard today just thinking about you.”

He took your hand and guided it toward the front of his jeans, letting you palm him. Feeling his covered length made your throat go dry. Your walls clenched again, needing to be filled. You had a taste of Bucky and he was addicting. You knew you’d have the same craving with Steve. 

“But first…” he groaned, both hands moving to your knees and pushing your legs apart. “Let me see what a mess he made of you.”

“Fuck…” you whimpered when he dipped down.

“Language,” he said in a stern tone, surprising you. “It does sound sexy. Not as sexy as my name will be though.”

The confident smirk suited him as he opened your legs even more. You trembled beneath his hands as he focused on your twitching hole. “Look at that,” he said in awe, his fingertip brushing your lips. You whimpered at the thought of him making a bigger mess of you. “When I have more time, I’m going to eat this pretty pussy like it’s my last meal. You’ll be begging for my cock long before I’ve had my fill.”

“Please,” you begged. Their mouths were made for sin and you wanted nothing more than to commit every single one with them.

“Tempting,” he whispered as he stood back up, bringing his finger to his mouth and licking it. “But I have something else in mind.”

He gripped your hips and pulled you toward him, your legs wrapping around his waist. Your nipples rubbed against his chest as he carried you to the living room. “Not the bedroom?”

“Buck may be upset if I have you in a bed first. That’s for all three of us.”

Your heart swelled a bit. From the banter you saw between Bucky and Steve, it was clear that their bond ran deep. They looked out for each other. It made you wonder how you were going to fit into their world. But that talk would come soon enough.

Instead of taking you to the sofa, Steve helped you put your feet on the ground. Your legs felt a bit wobbly, having to grip his arms to keep from collapsing. Bucky really did fuck some of your basic functions out of you, didn’t he?

Waiting until you were stable, the blonde grabbed a pillow and tossed in on the floor. He cupped your face, his mouth strong and tender as he gave you a hungry kiss. “Hands and knees.”

His eyes locked on yours and you nearly crumbled. The drop in his voice alone made you wet all over again. You reluctantly pulled away, complying as you turned and sank to the floor. Your knees rested on the pillow, making you smile. He thought enough to make sure you were somewhat comfortable.

“You wet for me, sweetheart?” he asked, hearing him unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. Was it the mere sound of it that was arousing or was it just him? “Are you ready for my cock?”

“I’m ready, Steve. Please,” you promised, looking over your shoulder as he moved behind you. He hadn’t bothered undressing and that made it even hotter. Your eyes zeroed in on his cock and, like when you saw Bucky’s, you trembled at the sight. You needed him inside you.

“Bucky already filled your beautiful cunt. You need me to fill you, too?” 

“Yes,” you moaned as his hands caressed your ass, your head falling a bit when they moved to your hips. “Steve, please.”

He aligned his cock, your pussy latching on as he pushed the head in. “Fuck…” he moaned, slowly sliding home. 

“Steve?” you asked when he sheathed you, not moving right away. You tried to push back against him, but the hold on your hips was ironclad. 

“Let me savor this before I destroy you.” 

You whimpered as he held you still, but you didn’t argue. Even as you pulsed around him in anticipation. Seconds continued to pass before you finally felt him start to pull out. You clamped down when he almost slid out completely just to have him slam back in. The force of it made you keen. 

“You better hold on, sweetheart,” he warned, his fingers digging in as he set a relentless rhythm.

Your wet walls fluttered with each stretch, your breath leaving your lungs in ragged breaths. You tried to hold on, but you could only enjoy the ride as he pulled you back to meet his demanding thrusts. They had you mewling as he kept burying himself to the hilt.

“Knew you could take us. Knew you were made for us.”

Menaces. Trouble. Gods. Bucky ruined part of you when he took you apart in the kitchen. Now Steve had you on your hands and knees, tearing you to pieces. You thought it would take more for you to shatter.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Be as loud as you want. Let Bucky hear it. Bet he’s hard, wishing he was back inside you.”

Your pussy sucked him in deeper than you thought possible, letting all of your sounds out. The hot and needy feeling they brought out of you was something you never wanted to deny again. And the image of Bucky in the doorway or around the corner, his hand running over his cock just from your sounds. “Steve, fuck!”

“That mouth again. Going to look beautiful stuffed with my cock,” he grunted, pounding into you. “Drenching me. Does that get you hot? Thinking about my cock in your mouth? His cock spilling down your throat?”

You swore you heard Bucky groan in the distance over the sounds of your own cries. “Yes! I want it,” you admitted shamelessly. You wanted every hole ruined by them.

You gasped as he stretched over you, his mouth brushing your shoulder. “That’s my good girl,” he said against your skin. “You tell us what you need and we’ll give it to you.”

Your eyes burned as you began to spiral, your warmth clenching tighter and tighter. He wasn’t just talking about sex and that made your heart leap into your throat. “Please.”

“I said ‘tell’. What do you need?” 

His pace increased, the throbbing in your core almost overwhelming. “I need to come!”

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream when his finger slid over your clit. “That’s my good girl. Come for me,” he growled in your ear.

Your orgasm ripped through you, just as powerful as the first. Your body went up in flames as you spasmed around him, reduced to a whimpering mess. Before you could finish riding it out, he withdrew from your body and put you on your back. You were still whimpering when he opened your legs and slid back in.

“Need to see you,” he groaned, his thrusts deep and quick. Through the haze, you could see how beautiful he looked. It took a second to lift your hand, bringing it to his cheek as he chased his end. He turned his head and kissed your palm, his eyes not leaving yours as he groaned out his release. The feel of him spilling into your already coated walls was everything.

Your body was limp beneath his, both of you panting as you stared at each other. His eyes went soft as he leaned down, lovingly brushing his lips against yours. How could both of them take you like animals and kiss you after like you were something precious?

“I can’t move,” you whispered. You felt boneless, weightless. 

Steve chuckled, wrapping his arms under your body to pull you close. Feeling his clothed body against your naked form was something out of a fantasy. “You don’t have to. Let me hold you and we’ll get ready in a few minutes.”

His lips brushed your forehead and you quickly shut your eyes. The emotions hit you square in the chest, unexpectedly. You couldn’t remember the last time you had sex and you slept with two men in a matter of minutes. Two wonderful, perfect men.

“Did I lose you?” Steve asked, his lips brushing over your eyelids. “Open your eyes, pretty girl. Please.”

“Please,” Bucky added, making you open them and move your head to the side. He was dressed with a drink in hand. His grin made your heart flutter. When did he walk in?

“There you are,” Steve said, touching your cheek and bringing your attention back to him. “Was it too much?”

He looked and sounded worried. You had to rectify that immediately. “No. It was perfect. Both of you are.”

Steve’s gaze was thoughtful, like he knew you had more to say. He also seemed to recognize how vulnerable you felt and didn’t push. Neither did Bucky. “Let’s get you something to drink. How does that sound?”

“That sounds nice,” you replied, exhaling when he moved out of your body. “Oh…” you said as his release leaked out of you and onto the pillow.

“Make sure Clint uses that pillow,” Bucky teased as Steve got up, still holding you in his arms.

“He’d probably like that,” Steve joked, sitting up and pulling you in his lap. 

Bucky set the drink on the coffee table before he grabbed the blanket draped on the back of the sofa. He pressed a kiss to your forehead as he wrapped it around you. Were they always swoonworthy?

“That’s…” you trailed off when he moved, getting a good look at the drink in front of you.

“Your favorite,” Bucky winked as he sat in the recliner.

“And we got your favorite snacks,” Steve added, wrapping his arms around you.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, trying to keep up with everything that transpired. The quiet didn’t bother you. It felt… comfortable and right. 

“You can talk to us if you want. We won’t bite,” Steve said after a minute.

“Unless you want us to,” Bucky smirked. 

You giggled at the familiar flirting, the sound making all of you relax more. “I’m not used to this.”

“Not used to what?” Steve asked, one of his hands rubbing your back.

“Not used to not one, but two, amazing men showering me with attention,” you answered, smirking yourself. “And orgasms.”

“I’ll wake you each day with orgasms if you let me, doll. Sweetest breakfast I’ll ever taste,” Bucky said gruffly, his tongue poking out and licking his lips. 

“Not if I get a taste first,” Steve said in your ear. 

You closed your eyes, holding back the whimper that bubbled up. They were playing dirty. It wasn’t fair. “There’s only one of me.”

“More than enough to love,” Bucky said easily. 

Love? Was he making a generalization or did it mean more? “It doesn’t bother you?”

“I think the question is… Does it bother you?” Steve pressed. “Does it bother you to think we want to share you?”

“No,” you said honestly. You didn't feel like a prize to them. “But you two are so close and I’m just-”

“You’re not just anything,” Bucky cut you off before you could put yourself down, leaning forward to get your drink. He handed it to Steve when you lifted your head. “We both care about you.”

“We care enough that if you only wanted one of us, we’d accept it,” Steve continued, bringing the drink to your lips.

You took a large sip, not wanting to drink it all down. You still needed a semi-clear head. “So, if I really only wanted to be with one of you. That would be it?”

Neither said anything as they looked at each, having a silent conversation. That bond again. They didn’t even have to speak to read each other. “Yes,” they spoke at the same time.

“Really?”

“Really? We care about you and want you happy,” Steve told you, making you smile gently. “And Buck and I want the same for one another. I know you’re good for him. He's good for you.”

“Just like you two are good for each other,” Bucky added.

You looked between them, wishing you could read their minds. “You two thought this out.”

“Steve is the man with a plan,” Bucky joked, leaning back in his chair. 

“I don’t want to come between you. I won't be that person,” you blurted out. You felt like an idiot. You had the best sex of your life and you couldn’t just let it be.

Steve tilted your chin up, kissing you long and deep. It smothered anything else you had to say. “Buck, get over here.”

You hadn’t recovered from that kiss before Bucky turned your face toward him, his kiss just as loving and passionate. “You won’t come between us, doll,” he said against your lips.

They made it sound so simple. Maybe in their eyes it was. And you knew you’d have the support of your best friend. She respected people embracing what they wanted as long as no one got hurt. “Okay. We’ll continue this talk later. I should probably clean up before the others get here.”

“You’re not cleaning up,” Steve shook his head. 

“I’m not?” 

“You’re going to put your dress back on and stay nice and wet for us,” Bucky said as a matter-of-fact. “We even have a plug waiting for you, if you’re ready for that.”

“You…” you looked between them again. Both of them had shit eating grins on their handsome faces. “You have a plug for me?”

“We each do. What do you say, sweetheart? Think you can stay nice and plugged up before we really play tonight?”

Oh, you weren’t in trouble. You were in danger.

[museaway]

Lately I’ve been seeing a lot of calls for fic readers to leave comments, and while I absolutely agree that leaving feedback is good practice and everyone should do it, we need to nix this idea that a reader is obligated to leave the kind of feedback authors want (or any at all). 

Bear with me. 

Fandom is a gift economy. Instead of services for money, we exchange fanworks for a response. Reader response comes largely in two forms because of AO3: comments and kudos. Receiving these can be a huge morale booster for authors. A lack of feedback from readers can make you feel like you’re writing in a void. Sometimes writers stop writing because they don’t feel it’s worth their time, or they find fandoms where feedback is more plentiful. A single meaningful comment can change that. Seriously. Someone liked a fic enough they figured out how to leave multiple kudos? That author is going to have a great day. 

Beyond supporting their writing, leaving feedback on an author’s work can also lead to friendship if a reader and a writer hit it off. And if the reader also creates stuff, a writer might even check it out (that shouldn’t be your motivation for leaving feedback and please don’t advertise your own stuff in a comment — that would be pretty rude — but it’s a neat side effect). 

So feedback is important. Feedback feeds the fandom economy by validating writers’ time, and in turn, those writers will probably churn out more fic. (Not surprisingly, positive feedback is considered the most valuable since it contributes to good feelings, and happy writers are usually happy to keep writing.) It’s also polite to thank someone for a gift. Just like you might send a thank you if someone sent you a birthday present, if you enjoyed a fic you read, consider pressing that kudos button or dropping a comment. For most fic writers, that interaction is the only reward they get in exchange for the time they put into writing. 

But no reader is obligated to leave feedback any more than a writer is obligated to write fic. To put it another way, writers are not entitled to a reader’s feedback any more than readers are entitled to a writer’s fic. If readers may not demand what authors write about or how often we publish new chapters, then authors may not demand certain types of feedback from readers (or any). The gift concept goes both ways. A gift is given willingly, without the expectation of anything in return, even a thank you. 

Don’t get me wrong. It’s rude not to acknowledge a gift, but there can be no obligation in the giving of one, otherwise it wasn’t a gift in the first place. Did you ever receive a “gift” with expectations attached? Tacky. Same concept.

Most fic writers I know adore feedback. It’s natural to hope for it and feels terrible when you don’t receive it, but if we turn commenting into a chore, I honestly think we’ll see less of it. So if you want to encourage feedback, let readers know you’d love to know their thoughts. Reply if they leave you a message. That’s all we can do. 

I do wonder if some people might feel shy about commenting or not know what to say. If you fall into this category, know that there is nothing wrong with saying simply “Loved this” or “Thank you for sharing.” You do not have to write an essay. And for anyone who would like to support an author but wants to avoid comments for any reason, here are some alternatives:

Leave kudos. There is nothing wrong with only leaving kudos. You don’t need an AO3 account to do this. Just click the button and your kudos will be given anonymously.

Share the fic with your friends. If the author made a post on their social media, maybe reblog or retweet it. 

Respond to an author’s fic post on social media with a brief message or an emoji. (I’ve been told some authors don’t really like feedback on Twitter, but I’m really happy if someone will talk to me in public.)

Make them something. If you are an artist and you loved a fic, but you don’t know how to express that, maybe doodle something from it. Do you make podfics? Record a chapter. I can almost guarantee the author will scream out of excitement.

Subscribe to the author’s AO3 account or follow them on social for updates

Also: It’s 100% okay to leave comments on older fic or to leave comments on multiple fics. Absolutely no author will find this weird. You’re not bothering them. 

[nny11writes]

13, 16, 18, 43 and 50 for tha ask game please and thank you :P Just, many many numbers lol

13.��What is your planning process?

My first reaction was to squint and go “Do I have a process?” which is probably an answer on its own lol!

It depends is the actual answer.

Like most writers I start a fic because of one scene or dialogue or description that I really, really, really wanted to write and then I have to figure out where it belongs.

I almost always start by just...writing. I used to be 100% stream of consciousness writer. I’d sit down at least once a day with a blank document and without ANY forethought or direction I’d start writing a fic. It was always as much fun for me as my readers to see where a story would go because I literally had no clue.

These days, as I’m putting THE THING down on the page my brain is shrieking ideas at me so I start slapping them down too, but I’ve got a better filter so not everything goes down. There’s a lot of [WHAT IS THIS THING PLS PLS FIGURE IT OUT] and [PAST OR PRESENT TENSE MF MAKE UP YO MIND] at this stage.

This is where I actually start planning. I’ve got a bunch of stuff down, a vague direction, and a lot of ideas so this is usually where I sit down to do some planning. Am I aiming to write a short fic or long fic, one shot or multi-chapter, where are we, how many characters, etc. I leave things pretty wide open, while sometimes it’s fun to challenge myself to meet very specific goals it’s usually frustrating to me so nothing is set in stone. Literally. Even when I’ve posted if someone leaves a comment that’s amazing or enough people liked it I’ll usually try to write more in that fic or another fic with those ideas.

How To Quit You is a great example of how my loosey goosey planning works. I don’t know if people realize but that fic was originally supposed to be ONLY that first chapter. I wrote it in an hour tops for 2019 glitra week and all I knew at that point was I wanted to do a western with some romance tropes to it (hence the exes who still love each other thing).

Once I realized how many people seemed to love it and wanted to see more I sat down and planned it out. I first decided how I wanted to write the story (hence going back in time ~15 years) and then I created chapter titles and had vague descriptions for them.  Once it was all down I went through it again and made adjustments, then created a timeline (Micah died in 1868, they meet in 1870, Catra works BMR rails 1870-1880 min, etc etc). And that’s it.  I made an outline and used it as my idea bouncing ground and map and huge parts of it have changed as we’ve gone along. Catra was going to become a drunkard out in [REDACTED] after the timeline met up with chapter one. I scrapped that because it didn’t fit with other details and changes I’d made. I re-wrote the chapter and now I gotta scrap that and re-write it again do to reasons that would spoilers.

Let’s Try This Again is another hilarious example, because chapters 1-6 were meticulously planned and I charted out a whole story around them that I was going to stick to damn it all! And then Palpatine hip checked me and changed the course of the story. I still included a lot from my original VERY detailed outline, but some chapters were nixed completely and others added in too sooooo...

I’m not a true pantser because I do some planning, but I’m not a planner because I leave huge chucks practically up to the whims of fate. I’m a plantser.

16. Do you use sentence starters, writing prompts and/or fandom headcanons for your fanfics?

Sometimes! 

I think some of my best works are from prompts (WHICH ARE ALWAYS OPEN, HINT HINT, NUDGE NUDGE, KNOW WHAT I MEAN KNOW WHAT I MEAN) specifically.

I rarely use sentence starters but I think I’ve done okay when I did.

But fandom headcanons? Oh hell yeah baby now we’re talking!

Can Anakin cook but Padme can’t? Hell yeah!

Togruta have some cat like features so Ahsoka is obligate carnivore and color blind? WOOOOOOOO BOYYYYYYYYYYYY!

"This is not because I like you.” is 100% something that everyone in the Horde says when trying to cover their asses, Catra’s just a useless lesbian and has to use it A Lot More Than Most. Awwwwww yeah, that’s the good stuff!

Glimmer and Catra talk to one another but only have serious conversations sitting back to back post canon. I DON’T MAKE THE RULES!

Like, god, fandom headcanon is practically what my fics live on lol! I’m not great at writing things in canon or sticking to canon, and people are amazing and smart so of course I’m going to steal their cool ideas and then mess with them until they’re my own.

18. What is your favorite writing prompt?

...I gotta be honest I have no clue lol. I’ve liked basically every prompt I’ve ever gotten (there’s literally only been 2 that I got and went “...oh.” and of those two I was able to bend the prompt into things I liked a lot! One of them is actually posted and people like it, and then other is currently sitting in the naughty prompt corner for crimes of FIGHTING ME TO A STANDSTILL every time I write a few sentences for it, but I do actually like it now lol).

I think my favorite style of prompt are ones that are open for some interpretation. You know that joke about you know a writer based on how they respond to a one word prompt like “fall” or “cold” or even “love”? I love that kind of stuff! Heck, even things with a more narrow focus are fun to play with. For one of my prompt fics I was able to flip the script and have the character everyone expects the unrequited pining from to instead be the unattainable beloved instead.

*Marge potato meme* I just think they’re neat!

43. Guilty pleasure tropes and scenarios?

None, because I am very loud about what I enjoy and refuse to have things I enjoy ripped away by strangers on the interwebs.

Okay, more seriously, as far as things that others might think are guilty pleasure tropes and scenarios?

I love a good “morons to repressed idiots to lovers” slow burn. Yes, yesssss, let them be absolute fools and make MASSIVE mistakes that they have no reason to make. There was a miscommunication? Delightful! Oh look, they’re both flirting with one another but think the other one is just joking around with them. I WILL TAKE ANOTHER 200K OF THEM SUFFERING THANK YOU!

I love AUs man, every time I see someone who really hates coffee shop AUs or highschool AUs or modern AUs I end up getting grumpy and I go find some of those AUs to read because I love them. The AUs I love the most change fandom to fandom. Not a huge fan of modern AU for star wars, but an absolute slut for them in She Ra. Palpatine chokes on a bagel and I live, but if that happened to Horde Prime I’d be pissed. *shrug* I just know that some people really don’t like or even outright hate AUs, and I do not understand them at all. Like, good for them and I hope they find the fics they do enjoy! But also, why???????

I think my “cringiest” one is that I actually really like A/B/O as long as they flip the script somehow or delve into how something like that would actually effect the world it exists in. Is sex in public a common and acceptable thing b/c they can’t control themselves? Do jobs and schools give people time off for heats and ruts? Is it considered antiquated and anyone who struggles with their biology is considered lazy or stupid? Do celebrities sometimes get in trouble with fans or even lose their jobs/prestige after showing off their new mating mark? GIVE ME THE WORLD BUILDING I WANT TO KNOW! But if it’s a really boring traditional A/B/O...like, what’s the point there? 

Please don’t misunderstand me here. These three examples are all things that are WILDLY stupid in their own rights, and I love them dearly both because of and regardless of that!

50. Can we get a teaser for an upcoming chapter?

It’s All Fun and Games Until...Stop! Stop! We’re Already Gay!

AKA the one where they all go to Mystacor to relax in the steam grotto and have to deal with seeing one another in tight fitting and wet underwear. The thirst is high.

“So…” Bow started conversationally as Sea Hawk put the finishing touches on Bow’s freshly painted nails. “How doomed are they? Are we making bets?”

Mermista and Sea Hawk made significant eye contact before looking at him pitifully. 

“What?” Bow asked, starting to sweat nervously. “What!?”

“Nothing, just-” Sea Hawk didn’t even get to finish.

“You need to get your girlfriend to get her girlfriends under control, and like, I knooooow that’s a tall order or whatever. But uuuuuuuuugggggghhh, we are going to die.”

“Girlfriend!?” Bow’s voice cracked painfully. “Ha! A-ha! Ha! W-who? I don’t, I don’t have a girlfriend, what are you even talking about?”

“Uuuuuggggggghh!”

“There, there my dear. We have survived worse.”

[shutupdevvie]

usually i save my full on comments for smuts because... idk that's just how it usually goes BUT this deserves a full on comment because i love it so much <333

sam pouring drinks is a bad idea. i think we all know this. we've seen the margarita video. of course he's pouring "with his heart". he wants everyone to get alcohol poisoning.

"'Okay,' Josh nodded, as if he was completely content with her doing anything to him." whipped. as. fuck. but it's cute !! i would do anything for whipped josh.

"'I'm going to find Sammy,' Sparrow said..." hello sparrow, my love, i am so glad you're back. i have missed you so very dearly.

i literally read this whole sparrow/sammy scene before and it STILL damn near had me in tears. I LOVE THEM AND I HAVE MISSED THEM AND I AM SO GLAD TO GET AN OUNCE OF THEM BACK.

"They had the ability to make every space their own, no matter where they were, but standing in their home, their kitchen, it felt all the more like an intrusion to her." THEIR HOME !! THEIR KITCHEN !! GET. AWAY FROM ME.

"She wanted to love someone like that. She wanted someone to love her like that." and then she goes back outside ?? back to josh ?? like girl. he's right there.

"He was already staring at her, had been since she stepped back outside." clearly in love with you, iris. just open your eyes.

alright josh is a little bit of a drama queen but like... imagine josh tending to you like this. i need to stop before i think too much about it and hurt my own feelings.

"Come on, don't hide your smile from me," "I want to see it. Come on, Josh, I want to see that pretty smile." "You think I'm pretty?" this motherfucker is the prettiest person i have ever seen and he has the audacity to ask that.

"But friends didn't love each other like Iris loved Josh. Friends didn't look at one another how Josh looked at Iris." you are so right. they're in love with each other BUT WE ALREADY KNEW THAT.

"'He looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars. He looks at you like God made you for him.'" shut. UP. do not talk to me. do not even glance in my direction.

"'He looks at you the same way Sammy looks at me. If I had to guess, Sammy probably stole that look from Josh. I mean, God, Iris, he's been looking at you like that for years." WHEN IS IT MY TURN. SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME.

i CANNOT with the jake and sparrow interaction. nix is gonna run with this OUNCE of jake/sparrow content.

"We're not married!" "We could be," "I know you're not asking me to marry you like that," "Wouldn't dream of it," tears.., are streaming down my face.

pogo !! (yes i am skipping the sparrow and josh scene because i don't think i will ever, truly be emotionally ready to discuss that scene in detail)

"Drop the Elvis thing and go for Madonna?" i would love this so much. i need it irl.

"I'm not a particularly religious person, but I do think that something divine had a hand in creating you." another line i read before that still hurts me to this day. every time i remember this line, i debate whether or not i should lay on train tracks because i don't want to think about this line anymore than i already have.

"I like remembering my time with you, it makes being away a little easier sometimes." "I miss you terribly when you're gone," "I guess I spend a lot of my spare time missing you." "I hate when you go away," "I hate to leave you." i am... gonna cry... again. they make me feel too many emotions.

"She made his heart ache." well they are both making MY heart ache. it hurts to be completely honest.

"Sam spotted them first, his eyes landing on Sparrow as if she were magnetic." i will never get over them. one of my favorite fictional couples ever to exist. ever.

percy. you just... you had to add the gems on his chest. you just HAD TO DO THAT. i gotta.... i gotta go.

"'This is a special request from my favorite girl. She's the closest thing to heaven that I will ever be!" you want me to kill myself? FAVORITE GIRL.

"I walked into your life and I never looked back. I never even asked you how you felt about that. I can only help but imagine what you'd be like if I hadn't. I can only help but imagine you going to New York and being insanely happy." you can't see me but i'm slamming my head into the wall repeatedly. just over and over again. with this part on repeat in my mind.

"I want to be yours, Iris," "I've always wanted to be yours." fuck. this.

"It's the Kiszka way," "I wouldn't know that though, would I? I'm not a Kiszka," "Would you?" "Would I what?" "Be one? A Kiszka?" yes. absolutely yes. one hundred percent yes. without a doubt.

"I think I'd like for you to be," crying again. ahaha.

anywho. i love you josh and iris. i love you sam and sparrow. and i love you, percy. ok bye. i miss sam and sparrow already.

closest to heaven , josh kiszka

summary: josh and iris have always meant more to each other than the other realized. it was only a matter of time before they saw it lik everyone else did.

word count: 11.5k

warnings: some swearing, fluff, angst, mutual pining, the tiniest smidge of a hint of an insinuation of sex, there's some injury and blood but it truthfully is just a scratch that josh over-exaggerates

author's note: hi friends long time no see. i have been working on this fic for a LONG LONG time as you can see by the word count...also huge surprise in this fic ;) some of you may or may not recognize some of the characters in this one, especially sammy's girlfriend <3

Late June bled into early July, and the promise of the beloved American holiday was on the horizon. The days had become hotter, and the nights weren’t much better. 

Days were spent in the water—pools, day trips to the lake, even the desperate attempt to stand in the shower while the cold water ran. Shade was sought out wherever possible—under porch awnings and beneath trees scorched dead by the sun. Drinks were poured in a steady, unforgiving stream; no one was ever empty handed for long. It wasn’t even that the alcohol was helping, and no one was convinced that it wasn’t making it worse, but it was an excuse for Sam to disappear inside. He would pour tequila with a heavy hand—“with his heart,” as he liked to say—and pass cups around.

His girlfriend had attempted to get him to stop on multiple occasions, but Jake waved a hand at her.

“Kiddo, it’s no use,” he’d sighed with an arm draped over his eyes. “He’s out of his mind.”

“We’re all out of our minds, Jake,” she replied. “I don’t see you or Danny in there playing bartender.”

“What about us?” Josh protested. “Don’t leave Iris and I out.”

They were laying beside each other, as close as they could really get without touching because even that was unbearable in the heat. Still, his hand was brushed up against the outside of her thigh, unable to truly be without touch for long. But that was just how Josh had always been, ever since they were kids. He had always felt more grounded, or perhaps it was for her sake, while he had a hand ghosting against her.

Long ago, she had convinced herself that it was mindless, that it was platonic, that she didn’t feel butterflies every time she felt his fingers brush against her skin.

“You two are always scheming something else,” Danny commented offhandedly. “It’s actually worrying me that you haven’t done something to any of us in awhile.”

“Too hot,” Iris muttered, her eyes still closed. The straw hat that she had stolen from Jake was tugged down over her face. “I feel like my brain is melting.”

“Well, we just can’t have that, now can we?” Josh sighed.

She moved a moment too late, cold water—left over melted ice in Josh’s glass—was dumped onto her bare stomach. Gasping, she flew forward, fruitlessly wiping away at the water. Jake’s hat tumbled down onto the concrete that surrounded the pool—forgotten.

“Spoke far too soon, Daniel,” Sparrow said. 

Iris glared at Josh, now standing up from the cushioned pool furniture. For as good as the cold water hald felt on her burning skin, she couldn’t let Josh win as easily as that. He grinned up at her, tipping his chin out toward her as if to taunt her, and she shook her head at him.

“I’ll get you back for that,” she said.

“Okay,” Josh nodded, as if he was completely content with her doing anything to him.

In moments like that, she thought that maybe there was something more to it.

“I’m going to find Sammy,” Sparrow said, pushing herself up from the lounge loveseat that they had been sharing before he disappeared into the house. “And to hopefully make my own drink. I think I’m sweating tequila now. Iris, want to come?”

“Sure,” she replied, tearing her gaze from Josh.

She reached for her own glass, just barely empty and stooped down to pick up the fallen hat, placing it back on her head as she followed Sparrow into the comfort of Sam’s air conditioned house. Sparrow slid the door open and stepped inside, scoffing as she looked into the kitchen. Iris looked over her shoulder to see Sam standing there with his head pressed against the ice maker in the freezer.

“Are you kidding, Sammy?”

“Sparrow, I’m dying,” Sam replied. 

“And you think the rest of us aren’t?” Sparrow replied, sneaking up behind her boyfriend, circling her arms around his middle to press herself to his back. “Get your head out of the freezer.”

Sam obliged, shutting the freezer door. He twisted around to face Sparrow, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

Iris felt as though she was intruding. Somehow, the both of them were capable of making even the most mundane things intimate. She had heard of how hopeless they were for each other from Josh, had seen it when they were younger, but now, standing in their kitchen, it felt wholly different. They had this ability to make every space their own, no matter where they were, but standing in their home, their kitchen, it felt all the more like an intrusion to her. It was their space, their life, after all, and Iris felt like she was watching through a window.

She wanted to love someone like that. She wanted someone to love her like that.

Iris slipped outside, drink forgotten, and returned to her place beside Josh. She set the glass down on the table beside her, and turned to look at Josh. He was already staring at her, had been since she stepped back outside.

“Ah, it seems that you were repelled by the Sam and Sparrow effect,” Josh noted. “Do you want me to go in there and cut the PDA short so you can get a drink? I’m sure they’re probably fucking on the counter by now, but if we walk in with our eyes closed, only our ears will have to be removed.”

“Stop it,” she replied, lightly shoving his chest. Without either of them really noticing, they had both turned onto their sides to face one another. “They’re sweet.”

Josh just smiled. It was more to himself she thought than toward her, but she paid no mind to it because Sparrow and Sam were coming back out of the house and Sparrow was handing Iris a fresh glass, with a knowing, apologetic look. Iris waved her off, thanking her for the drink and took a deep sip from it.

She was grateful to find that Sam had definitely not been the one to make it this time, a significantly less amount of alcohol burning at the back of her throat. 

Josh was watching her drink, watching as she offered the drink to him.

He shook his head. 

“It’s all yours,” he said.

He sounded like he meant something entirely different than the glass in her hand. Something far off, something perhaps that wasn’t actually obtainable for her to hold or own, but was hers all the same.

It wasn’t long before she saw her opportunity for revenge on Josh. They had all been standing around the pool, watching Sam and Danny take turns doing flips off the diving board, listening to Josh and Jake critique them but not step foot onto the board themselves. She watched as Josh took a step closer to the water, speaking loudly and animatedly to Sam about how positively awful his flip had been, and she took the opportunity. Sparrow laughed as Iris crept up behind Josh. She pressed her hands into his shoulder blades, shoving him toward the water. Josh let out a surprised shout, twisting in the air to grab onto something that wasn’t there, and yet, he was able to grab onto her wrist at the last second, dragging her down into the with him.

She felt the dull sting of her knee scraping against the bottom of the pool when she landed a little closer to the shallow end than he had. She felt Josh reach for her and drag her up to the surface with him. He had a wild grin on his face, his hair plastered to his forehead. 

“Was that your idea of payback?” he asked, flipping a piece of her hair off her cheek.

“Well, I wasn’t supposed to get dragged into the water with you,” she replied, splashing at him.

Josh laughed, diving toward her and grabbing her waist, pushing her under the water again. They resurfaced again and this time she couldn’t keep her own grin off her face. They climbed out of the pool together, Josh offering a dramatic hand to help her out.

“Woah, Iris, you’re bleeding,” Jake said, pointing down at the knee she had felt hit the bottom of the pool.

Immediately, Josh was bent down in front of her, his hands wrapped around her knee. He examined it, wiped at the watery blood with his hand without a second thought, and squeezed her knee in an apology when she hissed in pain.

She felt her cheeks flame when she looked up from Josh, at everyone else, to see their eyes wide, staring back at her. She pushed at his shoulder then, attempting to bring him back to his feet.

“Josh, it’s fine,” she muttered.

“You’re hurt, Iris,” he argued.

“It’s a scratch,” she said.

Josh stood now, turning to look at Sparrow.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” he asked.

“Uhm,” she said, glancing at Sam quickly. He nodded. “Yeah, it’s probably just in the bathroom under the sink or in the closet.”

Josh nodded and turned back to Iris. He scooped her up in one swift motion, too quick for her to even attempt to stop him.

“No, no, no,” she said, batting at his shoulder. “I’m fine. I can walk. Put me down, Josh, my leg isn’t broken.”

He ignored her, carrying her toward the house. She felt her cheeks aflame with embarrassment, and she knew that her ears were bright red, her cheeks a matching shade. She covered her face with her hand, unable to even look back at her friends.

Josh opened the door to the house, flooding them with the cold relief of the air conditioning. She could feel goosebumps rising onto her skin and she wasn’t entirely sure if they were from the cold air or Josh, so she ignored both possibilities. He slid the door back shut with his foot, a bit harder than what was necessary and she flinched when the glass rattled. It didn’t bother him though, continuing his march deeper into the house and toward the bathroom without a second glance.

“I can walk,” she tried again, attempting to twist out of his hold. “It’s just a scrape, Josh.”

He wouldn’t let go, holding her tighter when she tried to twist free.

“Don’t be dumb,” he sighed. “You’ll fall if you keep doing that.”

“Put me down,” she replied.

“Fine,” Josh said.

But by then they had made it to the bathroom, and he was setting her down on the edge of the sink while he turned to the small closet. He dug through it until he found the small first aid kit, popping it open beside her. He worked silently, quickly, with a look on his face that made it seem like he was the one in pain, like there was some deeper cut on him that she couldn’t quite see.

Once the blood was wiped away, the scrape examined for much longer than it needed to be, cleaned by Josh’s gentle hand, and the band-aid pressed to her knee did he look up. He braced both of his hands on either side of her, his head hung low, nearly knocking into his chest.

“Josh,” she said.

He tilted his head back up to look at her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“For what?” he asked.

“If I hadn’t been so stupid and grabbed you, you wouldn’t have scraped your knee,” Josh replied.

He sounded positively miserable.

“Josh,” she said.

He looked away.

She pressed her hands against his face, turning his head gently to look up at her.

“It’s not your fault,” she said.

“It is,” he replied.

“Hey, I’m not dying. I’m not bleeding out. I don’t even need to go to the doctor.” she tapped the band-aid on her knee. “I didn’t even really need this.”

His expression didn’t change. He still looked miserable, still didn’t want to make eye contact with her. He still looked like he was in pain, caused by some invisible thing that she couldn’t see, but wanted to tear away from him. She hated seeing him like this. She hated to see him sad, for him to give her the wounded look he gave when he had to go away.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Talk to me, Josh. Don’t look so miserable.”

“I can’t handle the thought of hurting you,” he admitted quietly, so quietly that she wasn’t sure if she had truly heard him or had made it up.

“You didn’t hurt me,” she said.

“I—”

“You didn’t hurt me,” she repeated. “Besides. I probably would have jumped right into the pool after you anyway. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s hot as balls outside.”

A small smile cracked across his face and he hung his head again to hide it. He shook his head a bit, pressing his cheek to his shoulder when she pulled at him again to look at her.

“Come on, don’t hide your smile from me,” she said. “I want to see it. Come on, Josh, I want to see that pretty smile.”

With his cheek still pressed to his shoulder, he muttered, “You think I’m pretty?”

She stilled for a beat, a breath, loosening her grip on his wrist only for that long before closing around it again, breathing out.

“Yes.”

He turned to look at her then, a shocked grin on his face. He raised his eyebrows at her, wiggling them teasingly. It was her turn to shy away from him then, her cheeks reddening again in embarrassment.

“No, come on,” Josh protested. “That’s not fair.”

She turned back to him, pushing his shoulder so she could hop down off the counter. He opened his mouth to protest, but a small look from her silenced him.

“No more carrying me around,” he said, pointing a finger at him.

“No promises,” he replied, following her out of the bathroom and back out to the pool.

The moment the door slid back open, Sam was shouting for Josh to join them in the pool to play some sort of game. He agreed after Iris shoved him toward his brother, and she joined Sparrow beside the pool, pulling the straw hat back over her face.

“So, how was it?” Sparrow asked, never taking her eyes off of Sam in the pool.

“What?” Iris asked.

“Oh, come on, you two were in there for way too long to just be putting a band-aid on,” she replied. “Besides, you both came outside blushing. I don’t need to know all the details, just if I should wipe down the counters before I use that bathroom again.”

“It’s not like that,” Iris replied, grinning at her friend’s teasing. “Josh and I are just friends.”

“No,” Sparrow said, “you’re not. You know you’re not.”

“We’re not dating. Or sleeping together.”

“Everyone assumes you are. I always did,” Sparrow replied. “When I was younger, I was convinced, and Sammy spent so much time telling me otherwise, but I got him to see it too eventually.”

“It’s not like that,” she repeated.

“Neither one of you deny it when someone asks if you’re dating.”

Iris sighed. It wasn’t untrue of Sparrow to say that, but it really had just become easier for her and Josh to not say anything when prompted with the question. Perhaps it was because there was this unspoken air about it, that neither of them were entirely sure what the answer was either. She knew she loved Josh. she knew she’d do anything for him, any time he asked, and maybe that was love, but she had always convinced herself that she loved him platonically—only in the way friends would love one another.

But friends didn’t love each other like Iris loved Josh. Friends didn’t look at one another how Josh looked at Iris.

“It’s easier that way. People stop saying that we should get together,” Iris shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t think Josh feels that way.”

“But you do?” Sparrow asked.

Iris stilled. She closed her eyes, annoyed with herself at her slip up.

“Maybe,” she sighed, watching Jake attempt to throw the ball at Josh’s head.

“He’s got it bad for you, you know,” Sparrow said. “You can see it in the way he looks at you.”

“The way he looks at me,” Iris repeated, testing the words on her tongue, as if they were unbelievable. 

“Yes, the way he looks at you,” Sparrow nodded. “He looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars. He looks at you like God made you for him.”

“I don’t think he believes that, Josh isn’t a particularly religious person,” she said.

“You’ve always been just as stubborn as the rest of them,” Sparrow sighed.

“How would you know that anyway? The way he looks at me,” Iris repeated again, scoffing slightly.

“You do know I’m in love with his younger brother, right?” Sparrow replied, tipping her sunglasses down to look at Iris. “He looks at you the same way Sammy looks at me. If I had to guess, Sammy probably stole that look from Josh. I mean, God, Iris, he’s been looking at you like that for years. Since high school, probably even longer.”

Iris turned to look back toward the pool, her gaze finding Josh without much of a thought. He was diving sideways, reaching for a ball that Sam had thrown too far out of reach. She watched him sink underwater, popping up just as quickly as he disappeared, already shouting at Sam before he had wiped the water from his eyes, pushed his hair from his field of vision. She watched him jump onto Sam’s shoulders, forcing him under the water, and while he did it, he looked up, out of the pool toward her. When he saw her watching, he flashed her a grin before returning to the potential drowning of Sam.

“You better not drown him, Josh!” Sparrow called.

“Why not?” Josh called back, teasing.  He let Sam resurface, dodging him when he dove for Josh. “You’ll get all his assets. I heard he has an exceptionally nice bass guitar that you’d be able to have some fun with.”

“We’re not married!” Sparrow said. “Besides, you know I’m particular to the guitars.”

“Hell yeah!” Jake called, pumping his fist in the air.

Sam turned around quickly, abandoning Josh to look at Sparrow. He rested his arms on the edge of the pool, his chin on top of them.

“We could be,” Sam shrugged.

“I know you’re not asking me to marry you like that,” Sparrow said, crossing her arms.

But Iris could see the smile she was trying to hide and hear the teasing lithe in her voice. She knew Sam could hear it too because he just shook his head and pushed off the wall, a smile on his own face.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said before turning back toward the game that Danny and his brothers had already started back up.

And then they were playing again and Sparrow and Iris were watching. Neither one of them brought up Josh again, especially regarding his feelings, and then it was like nothing had ever been said.

Sam had climbed out of the pool to run to Sparrow and lay on top of her, effectively soaking her, before he disappeared back into the house, bringing a cooler of ice and a bottle of tequila back out with him. They ate and drank, watched the sunset, and once it was dark, Danny started a fire in the man made fire pit Sam had in the center of the porch furniture. Jake had seized control of the aux long ago and was playing soft music.

The drinking had slowed by then, but it hadn’t halted completely. It was evident to Iris just how much they had all probably drunk when Sam pulled Sparrow to her feet to slowly sway her back and forth to the music. Jake and Josh had egged him on, teasing him to the point of annoyance. He pulled Sparrow into the house, flipping the rest of them his middle finger as he locked the door behind them.

And then, the song was changing and Josh was on his feet before she was entirely able to tell what song was on. But Josh was positively beaming and then he was dragging her to get feet, singing to her in a tone that didn’t at all match the sound.

“And I’d give up forever to touch you,” he sang.

Danny and Jake sighed, having seen this show being put on many times before. They drank in silence, speaking to one another in hushed tones while Josh carried on, bringing a smile to her face while he sang the song that she shared a name with.

When it ended, and they had finally returned to their shared loveseat, she laid down, resting her head into his lap. It was something that she had done a thousand times before, and with Josh’s touch slipping against her hair, her scalp, her cheek, she was lulled into a sort of half sleep, her eyes shut

At some point, she was aware that Danny and Jake were calling a car, then saying goodbye to Josh. With Jake gone, Josh had connected his phone to the aux, floating sounds of John Denver and Fleet Foxes through the speakers. Occasionally, he’d play something he knew she liked, a Noah Kahan song or an old Kate Bush track that she had become absorbed by.

Hours or minutes later, it was always hard to tell in that state, she heard the sliding door open again.

“Sam snub you?” Josh asked.

“No,” Sparrow replied. “I couldn’t sleep. He snores sometimes, you know.”

“Of course, I know. I have to share a tour bus with him,” Josh nodded.

“I don’t mind it,” she said. “But I saw the fire still on and I wanted to make sure to put it out before I forgot. I heard a car, didn’t know you two were still here.”

“Is that your subtle way of kicking us out?” Josh asked, a smile audible.

“No,” Sparrow replied. “You don’t have to leave. At least not yet.”

“Not yet?” Josh hummed.

It was silent for a moment, as if Sparrow were thinking, contemplating what she wanted to say to Josh. It puzzled him, she had never been speechless around him. She had always been quite the opposite.

“You’re crazy about her,” Sparrow said after some time.

“As crazy as anyone is about her, I guess,” Josh said.

“Don’t bullshit me, Kiszka,” Sparrow replied.

Jost let out a breath of a laugh, his eyes wandering around the yard, staring at the fire until his eyes burned. He looked down at Iris, and nodded.

“Yeah,” Josh said. “But how could I not be?”

Sparrow was only silent, which prompted Josh to fill it. He could never stand them, silences. He always liked to have the TV going, a record playing, a conversation over everything too. The only time his world was quiet, when he didn’t need distractions or things to fill his silences, was when he was with Iris.

“I’ve known her for basically my own life at this point. We grew up together, and I think I might have had a crush on her the moment I learned what a girl actually was. I think I might know everything about her. I know she hates planes and snakes and the dark. But I probably am a little bit more well versed on the things she loves. I don’t focus too much on the bad, I have no use for it. I’m not interested in upsetting her. I know she loves dogs, playing the piano, hiking, writing songs, and my family. We’ve always been the people that everyone assumed were dating and neither one of us denied it because at some point, I think we started to believe it too. Sometimes, I catch myself thinking that she actually is my girlfriend, and then it comes crashing down on me that she’s not. Maybe I don’t deny it because I want it to be true.”

“I think you’re missing something,” Sparrow said pointedly.

Josh let out a heavy sigh, as if the confession was going to hurt him a little bit.

“I think I’ve always been aware, and this might be the most important thing I know about her, is that she loves me. But I might just be convincing myself of another thing I want,” Josh said, twirling a piece of her hair around his finger.

“What does she know about you?” Sparrow asked.

She still sounded like she was looking for something, searching for an answer to a question that she wouldn’t ask outright.

“Doesn’t matter to me what she knows about me. If she were to know one single thing about me, I’d want it to be that I love her back. More than anything, I think. I don’t think she knows I mean it when I sing that song.”

“And how hard was that to tell me?” Sparrow asked.

“You’ve always been a little shit,” Josh replied.

Sparrow laughed at him.

“I’ve always been Sammy’s other half, haven’t I?” she said.

“You’re smarter than he is. That’s what pisses me off. The both of you are evil, but you’re an evil genius.”

“I think you two should go now, Josh,” Sparrow said.

Iris could just make out the faint click of the fire being shut off, the light and the heat gone, leaving her to shiver at its loss. Josh ran his hand over her arm, as if to smooth the goosebumps that were bound to appear, to soothe the shiver that had wracked her body. He shook her gently, whispering like silk to wake her from her half sleep.

“Iris.”

“Hm?” she hummed in response.

“We have officially overstayed our welcome,” Josh whispered, a small laugh escaping his lips at the face she made.

“What time is it?” she asked, pushing herself to sit upright.

Josh glanced at the imaginary watch on his wrist.

“Late.”

She sighed, letting her head drop to the side, to the back of the furniture they shared, and smiled sleepily at him. He stood up, grabbing her hand as he wnet, tugging her to her feet along with him. He danced her back and forth to the music still coming from the speakers connected to his phone. They danced toward the back gate, and Josh pulled it open, leading her back toward his car.

“Are you—”

“I wouldn’t drive if I wasn’t,” Josh replied, unlocking his car and opening the door for her. “Especially not with you. Never with you.”

She looked at him, saw the truth in his eyes, and got into the car. He had never lied to her, had never told her anything other than the truth any time that she had asked.

She watched him make his way to the other side, pulling open his door and climbing inside. He slammed the door shut, and stuck the keys into the ignition, turning it over. He grinned to himself when his music began to play again, and he turned his head dramatically toward her to continue singing. She smiled and joined him after a few lines. Josh brightened when she started singing with them, and they sat in front of Sam’s house, at an ungodly hour, singing the songs off of Josh’s playlist.

At some point, Josh drove her back to her house, and followed her to the door, claiming that he wanted to make sure nothing happened to her during the short walk from his car to her front door. He stood on the porch while she worked the key into the lock, twisting it open and pushing the door wide.

She whistled shrilly, and Josh could hear the clacking of her dog’s nails on the hardwood. He appeared in the doorway, a tired, aloof look to him, his tail wagging wildly when he laid eyes on Iris and Josh. She knelt down in front of him, rubbing gently at his ears.

“Hi, Pogo, baby,” she cooed. “I’m so sorry I was gone for so long.”

Josh watched her with Pogo, a small smile on his face. He knew that she loved the dog, and had since the day that she met him. Josh had gone with her to the shelter to meet him, watched her sit on the ground with the dog for hours until she got the okay to take him home. He had watched them together for just as long, reveling in the way that the dog loved her so unconditionally, so uninhibited, that for a moment he nearly felt jealous that he couldn’t love her so openly.

Josh smiled when Pogo turned to look at him, whining loudly. He took a step toward the dog, running a hand over his back. He looked at the dog, a tall, lanky thing that was a mess of a mutt, and smiled again.

“Alright, come on, baby,” Iris said. “Let’s go inside.”

Pogo turned to walk back into the house, and Iris moved to follow him, stepping across the threshold. And then, Josh was taking a step forward too without truly realizing it. He stopped himself, a hard stop that nearly had him tipping over. He stood awkwardly in the doorway then, and Iris turned to look at him.

“You know, you might as well stay over,” she said. “I’m going to need a ride to get my car tomorrow, and I think we’re both going to need some serious hangover cure in the morning.”

“Are you suggesting we take a trip to Cook’s?” he asked, a smile playing across his face as he stepped over the doorstep.

Pogo shoved his nose into Josh’s hand, flipping it onto his head. Josh rubbed the dog’s ear absentmindedly as he looked at Iris. he was looking at her in a particular way and she couldn’t decipher what it meant, and because she still had alcohol running alongside her blood, that dangerous liquid courage, she asked.

“What are you looking at me like that for?”

“I—” Josh shook his head. “Just tired. Really tired.”

“Well, then I guess we should go to bed,” she nodded.

“Yeah,” Josh said lamely, pressing his mouth into a thin line as he watched her climb up the stairs, Pogo close behind her.

She left the door open in case Pogo wanted to go sleep with Josh, and listened to him move around downstairs until she fell asleep.

The next morning, she woke up to Pogo jumping on top of her.

“Pogo, don’t!” Josh whispered, but it was no use by then.

“Hi, Pogo, baby,” she muttered, her eyes still closed as she reached for the dog.

“Sorry,” Josh said.

“Don’t worry about it,” she replied, turning on her side to face him, a lazy smile spreading across her face. “Happens every morning.”

“How do you feel?” Josh asked.

“Hm,” she groaned. “Like my head is going to explode. Sam pours like he’s got weights tied to his goddamn hands.”

“How does breakfast and some aspirin sound? And then we can go get your car, stop by Cook’s afterwards if you’re still up for it,” Josh said, leaning against the doorframe.

“I’m always up for a trip to Cook’s, Josh,” she replied, dragging herself out of bed. “That plan sounds fantastic. I’ll go start breakfast if you dig around for aspirin.”

“It’s all done already,” Josh said simply, following her down the steps. “Pogo might have conned me out of some bacon in the process too.”

“He’s good at being a mooch,” Iris smiled, patting the dog on his head as he sat beside her. “You should be angry with Josh, you know. He told on you for already getting your share.”

Josh hid a smile when he saw her sneak Pogo a piece of bacon later. She had no reason to hide it, no one to tell her not to spoil the dog, but he knew that she was doing it like some sort of game, breaking her own rule just for the fun of it.

Once they had finished breakfast, and had cleaned up—with the help of Pogo—they climbed back into Josh’s car and made their way back to Sam’s house. Josh sat idly beside her car as she climbed out, pulling the keys off of the roof of the car and climbing inside. She drove back to her house, and Josh followed her, waiting for her again on the street while she left her car at home. 

Then, she was making her way back to his car, and they were off to Cook’s. It was a routine that they had become accustomed to after heavy nights of drinking, so much so that Josh had curated a playlist for the specific reason of driving to Cook’s, the playlist the length of the trip there and back—a perfect mix of songs for pounding heads and heavy eyes.

He parked outside of the old drugstore, pocketing the keys and grabbing his wallet. He waited for her to climb out of the bar, waiting near the hood for her to join him, and then looped his arm through hers. When they stepped inside, they went their separate ways, knowing which shelves held what they wanted by now. 

At one point, they were in aisles opposite of each other, the shelves only chest height—providing a view of the other. She looked up to see Josh smirking at her before his eyes darted toward the speaker in the corner. She heard the beginning of Madonna’s Material Girl starting up, and grinned when she saw Josh moving his shoulders.

And then he was in a full blown dance in the store, holding a pretend microphone as he danced up and down the aisle for her, singing Material Girl in an entirely obnoxious voice. 

She laughed, shaking her head at him. 

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” she said.

“You love it when I sing,” Josh countered, his own grin spreading across his face.

“Mhm,” she nodded, picking up a small bag of gummy worms. “You should add some Madonna to your act next tour.”

“You think so?” Josh asked. “Drop the Elvis thing and go for Madonna?”

“Yeah, why not?” she continued to nod, her eyes darting back and forth between the candy in front of her and Josh’s smile. “Show everyone that there’s not a single ounce of toxic masculinity or male fragility in any of you guys.”

“Are the sparkly jumpsuits not enough for you?” Josh questioned, teasing her. She was silent, shaking her head with a grin on her face. “Alright, fine. The next gig you come to, I’ll be sure to sing Madonna instead of Elvis, deal?”

“If you want to,” she said, not truly believing him, believing that he was only telling her this to appease her. 

“Oh, for you, I’d want to do anything,” Josh hummed, gathering the things she had in her arms to take up to the counter. 

“Hey,” she protested, attempting to reach for her things, but was too slow, watching unhappily as Josh inserted his card into the machine. “I’m very capable of paying for my own hangover snacks, thank you very much.”

“You snooze you lose,” Josh shrugged, taking the bag from the cashier and thanking him. 

“I get to pick the movie then,” she replied as they climbed back into the car. 

Josh tied the top of the bag together and set it into the backseat. He let his head tip back against the headrest, lolling to the side to look at her with a pained expression on his face. 

“Please,” he said. “Not The Hangover. Anything but The Hangover.”

“But it’s fitting,” she grinned. 

“But it’s also tired. The joke was funny the first few times, but not so much anymore,” Josh said, returning her smile. His words held no malice because he knew she was only teasing him too. “Why don’t we watch something…profound.”

“Like?” she asked. 

“I dunno,” Josh shrugged. “We’ll find something.”

And then he drove them back to her house. He grabbed the bag before she could and ran to open her door for her. He waited patiently while she opened the door, greeted Pogo with her, and disappeared into the kitchen to prepare the snacks, telling her to choose something profound for them to watch. 

She picked something up off the shelf, examined the cover—The Princess Diaries—and decided that it was profound enough for her, even if Josh were to disagree. She popped it into the DVD player and got it started, pausing it when Josh still hadn’t appeared in the living room. She looked at Pogo—laid out on his bed beneath the window and furrowed her eyebrows.

She stood up from the couch, moving toward the kitchen when Josh suddenly came around the corner, startling her. 

“Jesus!” she gasped, taking a quick step backward. 

Josh grinned. “You called?”

“I didn’t think you were a religious person,” she mused. 

He looked at her, in that particular way again, the way that gave her butterflies, that brought on that funny feeling that he was only capable of invoking. He was looking at her in the way that Sam looked at Sparrow, the way that she had convinced herself that only friends do.

“I’m not a particularly religious person, but I do think that something divine had a hand in creating you.”

She looked at him, taken aback. He smiled at her, unabashed, like he was proud of himself. 

She supposed he should be. 

Then, he was making his way to the couch, sitting down and making himself comfortable, unpausing the movie. 

“You know, I don’t find that The Princess Diaries is very profound,” he said.

“I think it’s quite nice,” she replied. 

“You only want to stare at Chris Pine.”

“He’s in the second one.”

Josh hummed, popping a few pieces of candy into his mouth, turning his head away from the screen to look back at her. 

“Come on, you’ll miss it.”

And then she was moving, sitting down beside him and taking the bag of candy he offered her. They watched the first movie, and then when it was done, Josh stood up to put the second one on without a word. He sat beside her, his hand trailing over her leg, her arm, shoulder, until his fingers pinched a lock of her hair and  played with it mindlessly while his eyes stayed trained on the screen. 

“You ever wanted to do that?” Josh asked, referring to the mattress surfing scene. 

She cocked her head to the side, pondering the proposition of it. 

“When I was younger,” she nodded. “Now, I think I’d put a hole in the wall if I tried.”

“Not like Pogo hasn’t put one into the wall before,” Josh shrugged, grinning. 

She reached for the remote, pausing the movie. She pointed it at Josh. 

“That was an accident!” she said. “He got too excited, and if I recall correctly it was you who got him so amped up.”

Josh tilted his head back and laughed.

“I remember that,” he nodded. “It was right after you brought him home. You’d only had him for, what? Three weeks? And he was so excited about that toy I got him. That weird orange animal thing. I don’t even know what it was, but God, he loved that thing.” He had a fond smile on his face now at the memory and she couldn’t help but grin too that he even remembered all the details. “He’d run around like mad with it, and I went to chase him to get it back, and he—“ Josh paused to laugh again. “He ran right into the wall and put a hole in it! It’s right over there.” He pointed to the spot on the wall that had previously been broken through. “Remember how we tried to fix it? Oh, God that was a terrible mess. You were so frustrated you cried and took Pogo for a walk, and I said I’d fix it before you got back, but I had to call Jake. I made him rush over here to help me because I think I was just about as worked up as you were. I felt terrible.”

“You really remember all that?” she asked. 

“Of course I do,” Josh nodded. 

“It was, what, two years ago?” she said. 

“Three.”

Another grin spread across her face. Something about it made her heart beat funny. Something about Josh remembering all these tiny details of a mishap for all these years made the funny feeling she got sometimes because of him sputtering to life.

“I remember most of the time I spent with you, Iris,” Josh said, and something about his voice wasn’t light anymore. It was still happy, still playful, but his words carried weight now, like he wanted her to know he really meant what he was saying to her. “I happen to make it a point to remember. I like remembering my time with you, it makes being away a little easier sometimes.”

“I miss you terribly when you’re gone,” Iris admitted.

“I think about you everyday,” Josh said. “A new memory for everyday, I try to go for. I think about all our trips to Cook’s and going to the park with Pogo. I think about the day you brought him home, when he put the hole in the wall. I think about how much of an idiot I was in high school around you, falling over myself for your attention. I look at the photos you send me and I look at the old ones I’ve taken. I guess I spend a lot of my spare time missing you.”

Iris frowned. She didn’t like when Josh went away. It made her feel empty, and somehow, even though he didn’t live with her, her house felt empty too. She’d move for days in a ghostlike state, less than eager to leave the house because she knew that she couldn’t call Josh to come with her. There wasn’t an option for three a.m. grocery store runs or movie nights when she couldn’t sleep, no dancing in her kitchen to Josh’s playlist, no writing make believe songs with him in his home studio for her to play on the piano while he sang to her. There were no going on hikes with him while Pogo led the way, no Cook’s trips—because it wasn’t the same without him but she refused to admit that to him.

“I hate when you go away,” she said, swallowing thickly.

“I know you do.” Josh nodded. “I hate to leave you. If I could, I’d bring you with me, travel the world with you. I’d show you all the little hidden gems that we’ve found over the years. But I wouldn’t force you. I know how much you hate flying.”

“When do you go away again?” she couldn’t help but ask. 

“Not for a while. Don’t think about it. Please. Today wasn’t supposed to be sad. I’m sorry I brought it up,” Josh said.

“You don’t ever have to be sorry, Josh,” she replied. 

He smiled, a closed mouthed smile that made her heart twist a little. He slid the remote from her hand and pressed play, tossing the remote onto the coffee table before reaching for her. He dragged her toward him, laying down as she got closer so she’d be on top of him, her head resting on his chest. He buried one hand into her hair, scratching lightly against her scalp in a way that she knew would lull her into the same half sleep had been in the previous night. 

“You’ll make me fall asleep,” she muttered.

“That’s alright. We didn’t get much sleep with Pogo being our personal alarm clock,” Josh teased. 

“But I want to watch Chris Pine,” she said, grinning against his chest when she heard him groan in annoyance. 

“I knew it,” he said. 

She laughed and he couldn’t seem to help but laugh with her. He wrapped his other arm around her back to keep her steady, and when they finally stopped laughing, he kept it there, holding her to him as they watched the rest of the movie.

She was drifting again, Josh’s fingers against her scalp pushing her closer to sleep, and eventually she gave in, only waking up to Josh’s hushed whispers. 

“I’m whispering because she’s asleep, Jake, shut up… What day? No, tell me again… Where is it? Yes, I have to ask this many questions… I just told her we weren’t going away for a while and you dropped this on me the same day, Jake, that’s why I sound pissed.”

She lifted her head, blinking sleepily. 

“Hang on, Jake,” Josh said, tossing his phone onto the coffee table, the call still active. “Hi. Did I wake you?”

“Hi,” she replied, shaking her head. “What’s wrong?”

“Jake is calling me about a gig that got offered to us. They need someone to do it since another band canceled. It’s a little show, just us, but the venue’s open and we had good turnout last time, so they want us back,” Josh explained. 

“Where is it?” she asked. 

“I didn’t ask,” Josh replied. 

“Hm,” she said, reaching for Josh’s phone. He watched as she pressed it against her ear. “Hi, Jake.”

“Well, hi, Iris,” Jake replied.

“Where is this gig?” she asked.

“You know, I’m glad you asked,” Jake replied. “Because if my idiot brother had just thought for a second to ask that very same question, he wouldn’t be having that fit I know he’s having right now. It’s in Nashville, like, a half hour from us. So, if you’d do me a favor and tell him that, I’d appreciate it.”

“Sure,” Iris agreed. “Bye, Jake.”

“Bye, Iris. Thank you.”

She set his phone back down onto the coffee table, turning back to look at him to see he was staring at her intently, his eyebrows raised. 

“It’s in Nashville,” she said. “Half hour away. It could be fun. You should do it.”

“Only if you come,” Josh said instantly, tilting his head at an awkward angle to look at her. 

She breathed out a laugh at him, reaching up to shove his face gently, earning a laugh. 

“I’m serious!” he said, grabbing her hand away from his face. 

He held it against his chest, not really pinning it there so that she couldn’t pull it away, but applying enough pressure so that she knew he wanted it to stay there.

“What do I get if I go?” she asked. 

“Free tickets to see your favorite band,” Josh teased. “Front row seats, backstage passes, your setlist of choice. You can have whatever you want really, I’ll make sure it happens.”

“Hm,” she thought, attempting to come up with the most ridiculous list she could, tapping a finger against her chin to truly sell it. “I think two bottles of red wine, something fancy. Maybe something we’ve heard of, but can’t pronounce…Haribo brand gummy bears…a bowl of M&M’s, all the green ones picked out…Oreos…coloring books maybe.”

She stopped, looking up at Josh with mischievous intent. He was looking at her, smiling, shaking his head. 

“A strange rider, Iris,” he claimed. “But it can be done. I’ll make it happen if you want me too. We may never be invited back though.”

She shook her head. 

“I don’t need any of that. I‘ll be happy to come to the show. I haven’t been to one in a long time.”

“I still think I’d like to make it special for you,” Josh replied.

“Any time I get to see Greta Van Fleet is special, Josh,” she said. “I do really enjoy the band, always have. Even when you were a little garage band, I liked your music.”

“That means more to me than you’ll ever know,” Josh grinned.

His arms around her waist tightened for a moment, as if he were trying to drive his point home.

It made her blush.

“I mean it,” she nodded.

“I think you might have been our first fan,” Josh said.

“Your first fan,” she corrected. “I’ve always found that I enjoy most things you get yourself involved in. Bands and short films and all things alike.”

Josh closed his eyes for a moment, a grin spreading farther across his face. When he opened his eyes again, they were glassy, watery, like he could be crying. She thought that if he had been sitting up straight, she’d see the tears build on his waterline, threatening to spill over, but then again, she could just be being tricked by the lights.

“I thought your mom would have been the band’s first fan,” she said.

“God, no,” Josh laughed. “She pretended like she did, but now I know she would get so incredibly annoyed with my running around with the film camera, and of course, all the fights Jake and I got into over the band. I’m not sure how she didn’t shove the microphone down my throat most days, shove Jake’s guitar up where the sun don’t shine.”

Iris laughed, a deep laugh that had her resting her forehead against his chest, her shoulders shaking long after the noise stopped coming from her mouth. She had her eyes screwed shut, but if she hadn’t, if she had picked her head up, she would have seen Josh looking down at her with such fondness that it would have made her heart ache. 

She made his heart ache. 

Once she had recovered and lifted her head, he had steeled himself, his heart aching even more when he realized what he had done. He had hidden himself from her. He had taken that unbriding, loving expression that he had only when he looked at her, and reined it back in again.

And he realized that he had done it because he was afraid. He was mortified that he would scare her away from him. He didn’t want to push it too far, show too much emotion toward her when he hadn’t a clue what she felt for him. As far as he knew, she loved him like family, like a friend. As far as he knew, she saw him as her best friend. He was the one she called at three in the morning when she couldn’t sleep and wanted to talk to someone because she knew that he’d be awake. He was the one that she had called to go with her to get Pogo because she was too scared to walk in alone and choose the wrong dog. He was so scared to do something to ruin the way that she perceived him, even if it killed him to do so. 

“Hey,” he said lamely, like he didn’t know where he was going with it and was finding his way as he spoke, letting the words flow from his mouth without much thought, “will you help me pick out what to wear for this gig?”

“Of course,” she nodded.

And then she was pushing herself to sit up, dragging herself away from his chest. They both felt the absence, the cold, but ignored it, like they always did. 

Josh dragged a pillow to his chest, clutching at it as he pushed himself to sit upright.

Iris opened the backdoor, whistling for Pogo, who trotted outside, his tail wagging, unaware of the tension that was cutting through the room.

But it was normal now, the pulling back, the changing of subjects when things got too close, when the air around them changed.

“Could you come around this week?” Josh asked, watching her as she stared out into the yard after Pogo.

“Of course,” she repeated, nodding. “You know I will. Just text me whenever you want me to come by.”

Josh nodded too, setting the pillow aside to stand up from the couch. He shoved his hands into his pockets, watching her for a moment longer.

“I should probably get going then,” he said. “We’ll need to start getting ready. Jake will probably want to rehearse a little tonight, figure out a setlist. I’ll see you soon, right?”

She turned back to face him, and there she was again. She was back to being herself and he could feel the tension dissipate, the tightness in his chest loosen. She was smiling slightly, nodding as she looked at him.

“You’ll see me soon,” she affirmed. “I was thinking of stopping by tomorrow anyway if that’s alright.”

“You know you’re always welcome at my house, Iris, no matter what’s going on,” Josh replied.

And then he was leaving, gathering his things, and kissing the top of her head. He said goodbye to Pogo and was out the door and into his car before the air could change again.

The day of the show rolled around, and Iris stepped out of her house to see Sparrow waving at her from Sam’s car. She grinned at her friend, making her way down the driveway and into the passenger seat, ducking into the cool air conditioning.

“How’d you land Sam’s car?” she asked.

“Iris, do you even have to ask?” Sparrow replied.

Iris grinned, shaking her head, and tugged a pair of sunglasses down over her eyes. Sparrow did the same, cranking the radio at the same time, and they were off. They sang Taylor Swift songs with the windows down, turning to shout the words at one another, falling into laughter just because of the action of it all. They arrived at the venue far too soon, but got out of the car with smiles nonetheless. Sparrow led the way, Iris by her side, as they entered through a side door. They made their way toward the dressing room, and Sparrow pushed the door open, revealing the four of them, dressed and ready, drinks in hand.

Sam spotted them first, his eyes landing on Sparrow as if she were magnetic. He crossed the room toward her, drawing her into his side so smoothly that Iris would have believed that they were an extension of each other if someone had tried to convince her of it.

Iris stepped into the room after them and someone outside shut the door again, hoping to keep the volume locked inside rather than spilling into the hallway. She couldn’t blame them really, it was loud in the room. Music was blasting from speakers and voices were raised to volumes in order to compete with the music. Drinks were being poured, and she could hear Josh telling an animated story to some of the crew.

She moved deeper into the dressing room, thanking Danny when he pressed a drink into her hand, and then made her way to Josh. She rested her hand on his shoulder, causing him to turn his head to look at her. He smiled brightly, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that made her heart stutter. He had little rhinestones along his cheekbones, a line of them down his chest, and Iris couldn’t help but let herself linger on them for a moment too long. 

“Iris!” Josh greeted, slinging an arm around her shoulders to pull her into a tight hug. 

Over his shoulder she could see knowing smiles grow on the crew’s faces and she couldn’t help but wonder if he had been talking about her so animatedly before she had come over.

And then he was launching into another excited babble about how fun this show should be, and how much she was going to enjoy it.

“You know, I have a surprise for you,” he said.

“Oh?” she questioned, smirking at him, a teasing grin on her face. “Is it the M&M’s?”

“No, you goof,” Josh grinned. “Something better.”

“I don’t really know what would be better than no green M&M’s,” she teased.

Josh rolled his eyes, excusing them from the crew to lead her toward a small wine fridge. He pulled a bottle out, brandishing it dramatically in front of her.

“Fancy wine?” he asked.

“You didn’t have to.” she smiled, watching as he poured some out for the both of them.

She took the glass with a grin nonetheless, sipping slowly. Josh watched her, nearly leaning toward, as if he were on the edge of his seat to know how she liked it.

“Well?” he asked. “How good did I do?”

She closed her eyes, a smile playing across her face. When she opened her eyes again, he was closer, leaning in as if she were about to tell him a secret, something that he wanted to stay between them.

“The best wine I’ve ever had,” she said.

He grinned, opened his mouth to say something, but they were interrupted by Jake grabbing the back of Josh’s jumpsuit to drag him out the door.

“Sorry, Iris, but we’re fucking late,” Jake apologized. “Again!”

And then Sparrow was grabbing Iris by the wrist and dragging her out of the room behind the boys. She led her a different way though, up a flight of stairs and out onto a balcony that overlooked the stage. Iris could hear people yelling up to them, at Sparrow, and she leaned over the side to wave, to talk to some of them. Iris smiled, watching her best friend interact with the people that loved her because Sam loved her. But then again, she suspected that if anyone spent the time to get to know Sparrow, they’d love her because she was wonderful and funny and endearing. 

Some time later, the boys came onto the stage, and Sparrow returned to Iris. They sang together, danced.

During Highway Tune, they sang louder than they had all night, crouching down with Jake in the beginning during the opening riff, screaming along with Josh, hollering when the song was over just to patronize the boys. Iris could see Sam shaking his head at them, a ghost of a hidden smile on his face. 

Some time during Light My Love, Sparrow found it funny to mock Josh’s hand flourishes, mimicking them as he sang, so in retaliation, Iris grinned at her friend as she stood on one leg like Sam sometimes did while he played, bobbing her head along to the mellotron. When they had finished their teasing, they stood together, swaying side by side as they sang along, wiping at each other's tears.

Then, there was a pause, and Josh was looking up into the balcony. He spotted Iris, smiled, and then returned to his microphone.

“Usually, this next song would be Elvis, but we’re switching it up tonight,” he said.

“What is he doing?” Sparrow whispered to Iris.

She didn’t reply, incapable of it as she stared down at Josh, a smile on her face.

“This is a special request from my favorite girl. She’s the closest thing to heaven that I will ever be!” he grinned up at where he knew she was standing, tilting his head back, closing his eyes. Then, he brought the mic back up to his lips turning to look at his brother. “Let’s do it, Jakey.”

And then there was that techno-y sound and the drum line, and Josh was singing Like A Virgin, and the crowd was screaming. Sparrow may have been shouting in disbelief, grabbing onto Iris’ arm in disbelief.

“He did not!” Sparrow gasped.

Iris was grinning, watching Josh sing.

He was looking up at her now, pointing at the balcony, squinting his eyes at the lights.

“You’re so fine and you’re mine, I’ll be yours till the end of time!”

She was grinning and practically vibrating from the happiness coursing through her. Her face hurt from the smile on her face.

When the song ended, she cheered, and she thought she sounded louder than anybody.

“I cannot believe he really fucking did it,” she said.

“What?” Sparrow asked. “You better tell me what that was.”

“After that night at yours,” Iris said, “we went to Cook’s and he sang Material Girl in the aisles. I told him he should drop the Elvis thing and go for Madonna, as a joke. I went on about this feminist agenda, and he told me that the next show I came to, he’d play Madonna, but I didn’t think he was serious.”

“Oh, God, he’s so in love with you, Iris,” Sparrow grinned.

“Oh, hush, you,” Iris replied, shoving at her friend’s shoulder, albeit a grin still on her face as she did so.

Sparrow laughed at her, the teasing put to an end as the show ended too. They left the balcony together, made their way down the steps just as the band stepped off the stage, the heightened adrenaline palpable. Sparrow made her way toward Sam, falling into his arms again in that seamless way that they do, and kissed him deeply. 

Iris, looking away because she felt like she was intruding once again, made her way to where Josh stood. He smiled again when he saw her, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her off of the ground to spin her in a tight hug. 

“Did you like your surprise?” Josh asked once he had set her down, his hands resting on her shoulders now, a brilliant smile on his face.

“Loved it,” she nodded, a matching smile donning her mouth. “I can’t believe you actually did it.”

“I told you,” Josh replied. “Anything for you. Whatever you want, it's yours.” He took her hand. “Come on, let’s go celebrate.”

He pulled her away from his brothers, her friends, and down the hallway, toward the dressing room. He tugged them both inside, and only let go of her hand to pull at the zipper on the back of his jumpsuit, quickly changing into the clothes that he had arrived in, shoving the jumpsuit into the bag. He shoved on a pair of shoes, the pair that he wore nearly everyday, and reached for her hand again, pulling her back out of the dressing room. Then, he was running, pulling her along with him still, and they were out into the open air of Nashville.

“Come on, before they all see us and we get stuck,” he grinned, tapping the top of his car as he ran around to the other side.

She ran along with him, played along with the game that she knew he was playing—making it seem like they were a part of some high speed chase, some intense getaway, a great escape from something much more blood pumping than a small music venue in Nashville.

Josh had already gotten the car started and the radio on by the time that she had made her way into the passenger seat and gotten the door shut. He grinned at her wildly, cranking the volume on some old rock song, much different than the John Denver he usually played, and sped off. She watched as he took the all too familiar route to her house, and hid her grin when he mentioned Pogo. Even in his heightened state of happiness, he still knew that she’d want to go home to her dog, take care of him, and let him outside. Josh pulled into her driveway, parked the car and turned the radio down. They got out of the car together, approached the door, stepped inside, and greeted Pogo where he was waiting at the door.

They parted ways then, Iris to the backdoor to let Pogo out, Josh to the kitchen to make drinks. It was an old song and dance for them, one that they knew all too well and could perform with their eyes closed. She left the door open for Pogo to come and go as he pleased, and stepped into the kitchen, hopping up onto the counter to watch Josh slice limes.

He was quiet, and so was she. It was never usually like that. This part of the song and dance was usually filled with laughter and conversations about almost anything, everything. She looked at him, and noticed he had this look about him now, the adrenaline gone, the happiness wiped from his face. It looked as if he had thought about something for a little too long, had let it manifest into something sick and twisted, something that upset him beyond measure.

“Josh,” she said, reaching for his hand. 

She took the knife from him, set it down on the counter, watched as he let the lime fall from his other hand. He looked up at her, his eyes tearful, his bottom lip tucked into his mouth.

“Josh, what is it?” she asked.

“I sometimes wonder why you never moved to New York,” he said suddenly. 

“What?” she questioned, furrowing her eyebrows.

“Do you remember that job offer you got a few years ago? The one with the penthouse and the six figure salary,” he asked.

“Yeah, I remember that, but what— Why are you thinking about that now?” she asked.

“I don’t know. It’s just something that popped into my head, I guess. I was thinking about being here, in your house with you, and I remembered that there was a time when this wasn’t going to be your house anymore. I was just wondering what made you turn it down, what made you stay.”

“You know what made me stay, Josh,” she replied quietly.

He shook his head.

“I didn’t want to leave everything I had ever known. I didn’t want to leave the people I loved or Pogo. I didn’t want to leave you,” she continued. 

“I didn’t mean to ruin your life,” he whispered tearfully.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I walked into your life and I never looked back. I never even asked you how you felt about that. I can only help but imagine what you’d be like if I hadn’t. I can only help but imagine you going to New York and being insanely happy.”

“You didn’t ruin my life, Josh. You’ve made it. I wouldn’t be anything without you. I wouldn’t want to be anything without you.”

He was looking at her now. In a way that he would look at her right before he told her that he didn’t love her, couldn’t love her.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

She wanted to tell him he was an idiot, but instead, when she opened her mouth, the words that came out sounded foreign, like they didn’t belong to her in the slightest, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t meant them at all. 

“I love you, Josh, but you’re not mine.”

“Then whose am I?” he asked.

“I— I don’t know. Everyone’s. No one’s. Whoever’s you want to be.”

“I want to be yours, Iris,” he said, moving to stand in front of her now, his hands on either side of her, resting on the cool countertop. He was eye level with her, leaning closer than he had earlier that night. “I’ve always wanted to be yours.”

She looked at him, really looked at him. She looked at him in the way that she always hid, the way that she wanted to always look at him, but was too afraid to. That unbridled way that made her heart hum and made her stomach flip. And he looked back at her in that same way, the way that Sparrow said he did, the way that gave her a funny feeling in her stomach.

“There it is again,” she whispered.

“What?” he asked.

“That funny feeling,” she said.

Josh grinned, and then he was kissing her and she was kissing him back. And then, they were pulling at each other’s clothes, he was carrying her to her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. He was whispering to her and she was responding, voice and body, and then they were silent together, holding one another. She turned to look up at him, to find that he was already looking down at her, like always.

He grinned, brushed a piece of hair out of her face, pressed another kiss to her mouth.

“You’re quite full of surprises today, aren’t you?” she said.

“It’s the Kiszka way,” he grinned.

“I wouldn’t know that though, would I? I’m not a Kiszka,” she teased.

“Would you?” he asked, suddenly quite serious.

“Would I what?” she replied.

“Be one? A Kiszka?” Josh said.

“Well—”

“Not now. Not this week or this month or this year. Maybe not even in the next five years. But at some point in time, would you be one if I asked?”

“Maybe I would,” she nodded.

“I think I’d like for you to be,” Josh nodded, as if he had made up his mind that someday, albeit not today, he would ask her to marry him. “I’ve spent so much of my life with you in it, it’d be hard to think of it without you.”

“I don’t think either one of us have to worry about that,” she replied. “I won’t be going anywhere. It will take a lot for me to let you go.”

taglist: @​​pineapple-photographer @gvfrry @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @megsobryan @dannythedog @doodle417 @welightthefire @gretavanfleas @lilly-adysen @tripthelight-fanfic @gretasmokerising @gretavanbitches @mywaygvf @s-u-t @bigberkinbagholdfive @weightofdreams-gvf @sammyslappers @streamofcolor @angelqueen99 @spicedandicedtea @loofypoofy @kissthekiszka

if you'd like to join any of my taglists, please fill out this form!

[dreaming-jun-chu]

Rock and Riot review

 Warning: This post is very long! I will have a typed up summary/shorter version come very soon.

Ah, the 1950s in the United States. 

Milkshakes!

Carhops!

Poodle skirts!

Racism.

Segregation.

Civil Rights Movement.

Homophobia and Transphobia.

These are the reality to that time period. As much as people want to erase the “sucky” parts, that’s the reality of it and it shaped how we view ourselves as queer people of color.

That’s where Rock and Riot comes in. And let me say: It’s not good.

Rock and Riot is an LGBT comic about queer kids and kids of color in the 1950s finding love. The comic prides itself on it’s diversity to not only race but to sexuality and gender. To queer white kids, it’s extremely diverse and “progressive”. To queer people of color like me, it’s really offensive and just plain jarring.

Going chapter by chapter, I will tell everything wrong with not only the chapter but for the overall story.

Chapter 1

It starts off with the main protagonist, Connie, riding up with her school gang The Jacquettes. While traveling down the hallway, she notices this blonde hair and blue eyed girl named Carla and instantly falls for her. Connie then goes through the “i’m gonna impress her” motions of flexing her muscles, smoking to seem cool and driving her car in donuts before finally speaking to her.

Let’s pause that for a second.

Connie is African-American/Black while Connie is White. During the 1950s, you’d be hard pressed to find a Black person really speaking to a White person if it wasn’t during a musical scene or at the Black person’s job. 

If this town is based in the Northern to Midwestern United States; while there wasn’t Jim Crow like in the South, Whites and Blacks (and by extension, anyone who was of Color) were segregated by tradition.

And the interracial relationships during that time; they got ALOT of shit for it. 

Chapter 2

So, the second chapter deals with Connie and Frankie, the leader of the rival school gang, the Rollers, get into an argument over...something, it wasn’t memorable. Frankie’s a sexist pig, Connie’s upset and they roll into the water and mess up their hair.

Pausing again.

If we wanna be realistic: Frankie would probably be aggressively misogynoirist against Connie. Sexism for White women is not the same as sexism for Black women. If you want to keep sexism, don’t treat it as if the sexism white women face is universally the same for all women. 

He implied that Connie isn’t tough enough to wear a jacket. 

If this was toward a White woman, this line would make sense. White women are always seen as too weak, too small and not tough enough.

On the flip coin, Black women are treated as the opposite. Black women are seen as too manly, too tough, and too emasculating to even be around. That a Black woman’s “masculinity” is too much for a White man.

Yeah, it’s a small comment but even a small comment like that really puts in perspective that the author didn’t do any research. Especially in the 1950s.

There’s other comments Frankie prolly would say but I’ll leave that to your imagination. 

Chapter 3

So the next chapter deals with Connie and Carla’s first date. They’re at a drive-in movie. So Carla asks if it’s normal for couples to go there and hook up. Connie falls over herself trying to say that they dont have to hook up and carla kisses Connie on the cheek.

In the next few pages, we see Clyde and Eugene (members of the Rollers) getting nervous about being alone together. Of course, they show signs of liking each other before Frankie comes up and honks their horn. The other two members of the Rollers went to Clyde’s house and his sister told them he was on a date. Edd asks if a girl bailed on Clyde and that’s why he’s hanging with Eugene.

Pausing once again.

On a story point of view, this scene is awkward. Why would Frankie and Edd disrupt Clyde’s date? The scene is supposed to be funny but it comes off as awkward. Unless it was actual important business regarding their school gang, there’s no reason for them to barge in. I don’t care if that’s the type of people they are: they aren’t about to be my friends if they pull a stunt like that on me. This chapter was poorly written.

Chapter 4

Hope everyone’s ready for the next chapter cause here’s where “trans-friendly” writing rears its ugly head.

So the next day at school, there’s a new kid named Ace. Connie and Frankie want Ace as part of their gang. if you don’t mind, i’d like to insert what Ace looks like here

So Connie and Frankie try and recruit Ace into their gang with no success until the two leaders begin to argue with one another in front of Ace. Ace asks why the leaders want Ace so bad. While Connie and Frankie yell their crap, Ace dismisses both of them and leaves.

Rolly, a “sweet’ member of the Jacquettes, comes and talks to Ace. They have a talk and Rolly explains how she was once part of the Rollers and Connie's gang accepted her in. So Ace says that neither of the gang is right for Ace and that Ace has a gang already.

Pausing again.

There’s a reason why I avoided pronouns for Ace intentionally for the summary of this chapter. Ace is supposed to be non-binary and uses They/Them pronouns. This wouldn’t be a problem...If Ace told them. A friend of mine actually asked “why are they using They/them pronouns for this trans man?”

When i told him that Ace is supposed to be non-binary, he was a bit...miffed to say the least. Because it doesn’t make sense for these characters to know Ace’s pronouns without knowing or even asking. I’d actually like it better had Connie said “She” and Frankie say “He”; because the scene where Ace gets angry and doesn’t want to be part of either gang would make more sense. And Ace revealing to Rolly that they don’t see themselves in either gang feel more natural.

But because Frankie and Connie immediately used they/them pronouns, it’s feels forced. As if the author is afraid of showing transphobia. In the 1950s.

Concerning Rolly; she is out, wearing dresses and uses She/Her pronouns. Pre-HRT. And passes.

I can’t speak for trans women so I won’t say much about Rolly other than, the fact she passes, out and no one gives a second glance is concerning.

But, i can talk about Ace. To give you a bit of a perspective, i am Bigender. I use He/Him and She/Her pronouns. I don’t pass nor am I androgynous. Nor do i want to. 

Ace being androgynous is a major trope of NB trans folks and if you havent heard: WE ARE TIRED OF THAT BULL. Some of us are still NB and don’t pass. While the other members of Ace’s gang don’t pass: Ace is front and center. Ace is the face of the gang and the face we see first before the other three.

Every trans person that appears in this comic either passes or everyone instantly knows the pronouns said trans person uses.

Chapter 5

So the next chapter is fairly unmemorable. Connie’s gang notices that connie’s been acting strange and believe she’s dating a boy.

PAUSE.

The author doesn’t seem to to know whether her world has transphobia/homophobia/racism or not and it’s overall confusing. Why wouldn’t Connie’s gang accept her being a lesbian? 

I barely remember what happened with Clyde and Eugene in this chapter so...I can’t really comment on this one. It’s unmemorable.

Chapter 6

Do you remember the paragraph above mentioning whether the author not know whether she wanted racism in her world or not? Here’s where everything starts going down the drain.

So Connie goes to the diner where Carla works. Because they don’t get to be together often, Carla suggests they go to a little dance hall to be together and hang out when she gets off. 

So when they go to the Dance hall, the bouncer says Carla can go in but Connie can’t. That because they’re under new management, they can’t let Connie in because of complaints.

Connie, surprisingly, acts a bit realistic here and suggests they just go. Carla gets angry and yells at the bouncer and says she’ll reveal that he’s been having little dates with the librarian and possibly would tell his wife before saying “let’s take our business else where.”

They go to a little lake and comment how no one will judge them there and they have their little date.

PAUSE.

Let’s go back to the author for a second. On her Rock and Riot tumblr, she said that this comic is supposed to be the 1950s without the “suck’ as she says it. Which means, there’s supposed to be no homophobia. There’s supposed to be no Transphobia. And certainly, there’s supposed to be no Racism. But Sexism for Whites TM is okey-dokey.

Please decide whether you want Racism or not in this comic. Personally, i don’t like that you nixed it just because you wanted a “happy” comic when the 1950s was a turning point and led into alot of revolutions and movements.

This incident pops up and then disappears. It’s barely mentioned again or at all. 

Chapter 7

Another unmemorable chapter, sadly. It’s supposed to be how Rolly came to join the jacquettes. I can’t say much on it because it’s unmemorable and just a rip from “Look at me, i’m Sandra Dee” from Grease.

Chapter 8

I’m gonna admit, i had to read back over this cause I remembered only bits and pieces. This chapter deals with Connie catching Clyde and Eugene making out in the classroom when everyone’s gone. 

The chapter ends with Clyde and Eugene trying to cover up their making out as Clyde does push ups.

It was quite a bland chapter at an attempt at creating drama. Which, I could realistically see Connie catching Eugene and Clyde making out behind the school.

Chapter 9

So Carla, Connie, Clyde and Eugene are at Suzy’s diner. Sadly, this chapter was pretty damn unmemorable except for the next part.

Clyde asks how Connie and Carla knew they were different (how they found out they were gay).

Connie said she never liked men. Carla said she doesn’t have a preference.

PAAAAUUUUUSSSSSEEEEE

Connie never liking men is such a horrible stereotypes of Lesbians. She could have said “I felt more comfortable around girls” or even “I tried dating men for a bit but I never really felt a connection”. ANYTHING.

I feel it’s even worse given that she’s a Black Lesbian at that.

So the four of them continue talking UNTIL~

Their respective school gangs show up and catch them “in the act”.

So to cover their asses, Connie and Clyde pretend to date and so does Eugene and Carla.

This doesn’t make sense in a world where homophobia shouldn’t exist. 

So Debby freaks the hell out, Frankie is angry. Debbie tells Connie that she’s not part of the Jacquettes anymore and Frankie is angry.

Pause~

Now, from what i assumed: Connie created the Jacquettes or atleast came up with the idea. Wouldn’t it make more sense for Debby to say that they quit the Jacquettes than severing a tie with connie? When Connie’s the leader?

Chapter 10

This chapter was...not written well, but none of these chapters really were.

So this chapter deals with Ace’s gang, The Bandits. They’re selling answers to quizzes and tests to students. A few students say that their answers are bogus and won’t shop with them again.

So the members go to Ace and they come up with a plan.

Now, this next part is annoying to me because it’s fairly obvious that the author isn’t a Spanish speaker...Nor was this necessary.

So while Ace and the Bandits devise a plan, Ace’s mother comes in and tells them to stay hydrated for stealing tests and Ace responds that they’re writing essays

NOT ONLY THAT, why the fuck would Ace’s mother be okay with them stealing tests? I hope it was a joke. a horribly written joke.

Ace gets the brilliant idea to rewrite the tests.

So Ace and the bandits break into the school (again, apparently) and rewrite the tests and answers. 

James Bond/Mission Impossible reference noted.

So the next day, the school kids all get their tests...And apparently, the teachers nor the entire school does an investigation on why one of the choices on the tests is “What is your gender?”

If Ace and the Bandits are supposed to be inclusive; they fall extremely short. I didn’t like this chapter. At all.

Chapter 11

If there was a chapter that the author did that I completely and utterly loathed? It’s this one. And with complete good reason.

So Connie goes to Carla’s house and climbs up Carla’s tree, calling out to her girlfriend and throwing rocks at her window.

PAUSE.

First off: Connie is Black. Second, Connie is Black in the 1950s. ANYONE could tell you that Connie going into (what i will assume) an All White Neighborhood is a death sentence first.

Thirdly: Connie is Black in the 1950s climbing a White person’s house. Neighbors during this time were nosy as fuck. Connie’s Black ass would have been shot out that tree faster than Taylor Swift switches boyfriends.

If Connie wasn’t shot by Carla’s father or Carla’s neighbors, the police would have shot her out that tree,

So Connie goes to Carla (after finding out Carla is on the bottom floor and that she needs to keep the noise down cause Carla’s daddy is home) and they talk. Debby and Triss won’t talk to her but Rolly will. 

Carla asks if she thinks Connie should tell Rolly the truth.

I’ll pause for this one

I would think Rolly of all people would be the only one to know Connie’s a lesbian. Then again, I guess drama to make drama?

So carla suggests that Connie tells them all and Connie is worried they’d see her differently.

I’d like to make a mention that this comic is supposed to be a world where the 1950s had no suck. So it still doesn’t make sense that Connie keeps this to herself...if Homophobia isn’t suppose to exist.

So Connie kisses Carla and tries to make out with her...But Carla says she left her iron on. Connie asks if she ever gets frustrated and Carla says she wants to wait til she’s married.

Connie retorts that them getting married is as likely as a Black President.

P. A. U. S. E.

Aside from Connie climbing up that tree, this line boiled my blood the most. Racism isn’t supposed to be in this world and yet, Connie drops this line?

Yes, in the 1950s and 1960s, White people told Black folks that a Black President was completely unlikely. That Black folks could NEVER be president. 

I’d give this line a pass...If it weren't for the nonsensical hypocrisy of this entire comic. If the 1950s were played straight and correct, this line makes sense. For the world the author established, it makes no sense whatsoever.

So Carla says she never saw the point in physical activities and wants to wait. Connie respects that. Carla’s dad comes in and Connie jumps out the window.

-siiiiigh-

Oh and apparently there’s a scene with Clyde and Eugene. I almost forgot about that part. Wasn’t particularly interesting.

Chapter 12

This was a chapter that really wasnt necessary to begin with so I won’t say much other than, it’s a flashback chapter. It gives insight to how the Rollers and Jacquettes were made but other than that, not necessary.

Chapter 13

This chapter is completely cringe worthy. This chapter doesn’t boil my blood as much as Chapter 11; but it’s cringe-worthy and completely forced.

So Debbie and Frankie get into a fight and they get detention. So instead of just Frankie and Debbie getting detention; both gangs get detention.

This doesn’t make sense as, unless the other members joined in, there’s no reason for the entire gangs to be there in detention. I don’t give two blueberry muffins and a puppy; Guilty by association doesn’t work in public schools...Or private schools. Or any school. 

If only you and another person was caught fighting, only you two get detention.

Anyway, Connie freaks out and Debbie wants to go off on Connie for “dating” Clyde.

Rolly comments that she’d smack both of Frankie and Debbie had she been there. Debbie calls out that Rolly was with that “Ace girl”.

I’m only pausing because I actually appreciate this. That realistically; Debbie doesn’t know Ace’s pronouns and wasn’t told so she’d immediately say “she” or “girl”. I dunno about you all; but I’m for it. 

So Rolly outs Ace as “Non-Binary” without permission...And without Ace being there to ok it. Thanks Rolly.

And so Debbie riles up so much that Connie comes out and says she’s dating Carla.

This is where this entire scene is just forced to high heaven.

This starts a chain of people coming out of the closet about their sexualities. Debbie’s dating Triss and Frankie is dating or atleast pining after Sasha, a jock.

Edd is the oddman out and says he doesn’t like anyone when Rolly asks if anyone else is going to come out.

This chapter was incredibly forced and just bad on all accounts. Outing someone without permission is horrible. It doesn’t matter if that character is trans as well. If Rolly is out, awesome. I don’t know if Ace is out because no one has asked nor have they said they were.

Honestly, this comic was a roller coaster that continued to spiral downward. Personally, i like the art. The art, in my opinion, is the best part of this comic.

The colors are nice and I love the panels. It’s a simplistic style. It’s nothing truly special but I like simplistic cartoony styles. So it’s part of the reason i stuck around was because of the art.

But the story, the premise, all of it...Downright bad if not very offensive. 

So if i could rate ONLY the art: 7 out of 10. There’s a few off model issues here and there but the colors and composition are nice.

The rating of the story: 0 out of 10. It’s incredibly boring, it cant decide whether it wants the phobias and -isms or not, only showing up when it wants to.

[whimsiesofanerdgirl]

Interview with Bronwyn Eley, Debut Author of Relic

I am super psyched to introduce you to the lovely Bronwyn Eley who is the debut author of Relic! I was lucky enough to snag some of Bronwyn’s time to answer questions I had about her life as a writer as well as behind the scenes of her oncoming book! Also, please feel free to follow her on her socials! All of her info. can be found below the Q & A section of this post. Grab your favorite drink, sit back and relax, and enjoy reading all about her and her book Relic!

Q & A

Ashley: Where did you get your first inspiration to write Relic?

Bronwyn: Honestly I don’t remember the moment of inspiration and the story has changed so much over the years that it’s hard to pinpoint. What I do know is that a lifetime of loving fantasy – books and movies – has slowly and surely built the inspiration for Relic!

Ashley: That makes sense, stories can take awhile to build up to where you have some kind of plot to make sense of! Okay, I want to know who/what are your favorites that helped inspire you to write in the first place!

Who are your favourite authors? What are your favourite books?

Bronwyn: In terms of fantasy, I love Jay Kristoff, Amie Kaufman, Leigh Bardugo, V.E. Schwab and Maria V. Snyder. But I read so widely these days! I also love Stephen King, Aaron Blabey (for his Pig the Pug children’s series), J.M. Barrie (because Peter Pan is my absolute favourite), Thomas Malory (who wrote Le Morte d’Arthur), Emily St. John Mandel, Neil Gaiman (Stardust!!!) and I’ve surely forgotten so many more.

Ashley: Love it! I like how Peter Pan is your favorite, I feel like there’s a lot more going on in the story than people truly know.

How many books do you plan to write for the Relic series?

Bronwyn: There are three books in The Relic Trilogy that I’ve planned. I will say that I have a few potential ideas for prequels and sequels, if there’s ever any interest from my readers/publisher/myself.

Ashley: That’s great! I feel like people are really digging the before and afters for stories now. Us readers can never get enough!

What’s your current work-in-progress?

Bronwyn: Book two in The Relic Trilogy! It was hugely fun to write and I’m just about to start the first round of edits.

Ashley: That sounds like a lot of work, I wish you good luck!

What are the top 5 books in your TBR pile?

Bronwyn: Angel Mage by Garth Nix, The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern, Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie (it’s been too long), Mortal Engines by Philip Reeve and Backyard to Backpack by Evie Farrell!

Ashley: Yes! I love me some Garth Nix, I remember reading the Abhorsen series growing up and The Starless Sea sounds intriguing!

What advice would you give to aspiring YA fantasy authors?

Bronwyn: Know it’s hard, know it’s worth it, know you can do it!

Ashley: Short and simple - the perfect kind of advice.

What have you learned through your own personal experience with the publishing process being a debut author versus working within publishing?

Bronwyn: I admit working in the publishing industry is definitely helpful and eye-opening for aspiring authors. It shows the harsh realities of it but also shows a lot of hope! My own experience taught me that what you think is working ‘hard enough’ is never hard enough. You can always do more to help yourself develop as an author. 

Ashley: Well said and I couldn’t agree more, there’s always room for improvement.

Are you a panster, planster or plotter? Any tips for the prewriting phase?

Bronwyn: I am a plotter for the big things and a pantser for everything else. I make sure the big plot points are sorted but one I set my characters on the path towards those plot points, I let them decide how they want to get there. It’s more fun that way! 

My advice would be don’t get too bogged down in world-building or over-planning. Don’t get me wrong – world-building and planning are essential, but you can always improve and change and build... If you don’t start eventually, you will plot forever.

Ashley: Yes, I know exactly what you mean!

What does research for your book look like?

Bronwyn: A lot of internet research around medieval times – mostly articles and images, some videos. I did a weekend blacksmith course to get in the mindset of my protagonist Kaylan, who is a blacksmith in the story, and that was the best thing ever! I definitely want to create characters in the future that give me excuses to try out cool stuff! 

Ashley: That sounds like loads of fun! I’m super jealous! And what an awesome way of looking at writing.

I read that you’ve travelled a lot – have any particular places helped shape the setting and world building of Relic?

Bronwyn: Not overly in regards to Relic (however, I have been inspired by my travels in regards to other stories I want to one day write) but I will say that there is one castle that is absolutely inspiring and I definitely picture it when I write Relic. 

That castle is Château de Pierrefonds in France. It was a very fiddly place to get to – thankfully I speak French, which helped – but it was worth the trek! I am obsessed with this castle because it is the setting of Merlin, a TV show I love, but it is a stunning castle. Not many people seem to know about it and when I was there, it was virtually empty, which was fantastic because it meant I got photos of me without anyone else in the shot!

Ashley: Oh, wow! That castle is gorgeous! *swoons* I’ve never seen any castles in person, but I could only imagine actually being in one!

What’s your favourite go-to snack and drink while writing?

Bronwyn: Water and chocolate/biscuits! 

Ashley: Yum!

What’s your favourite writing spot? Do you have a picture? I love envisioning an author in their element!

Bronwyn: I write at my desk mostly – it’s not that glamorous. But I have attached a photo anyway! I’m not sure I could work in a beautiful outdoor spot because I’d want to just look at the view!

Ashley: Ooooooh! A stack of books! *stares* And your typewriter is the best decor for a writer! Loving this mood for sure!

When does motivation usually hit you? Are you an early riser or night owl?

Bronwyn: I’m more of a night owl – but I never stay up late to write! I write at night after work for a few hours. Inspiration has, at least for this series, always been at the ready! Sometimes if I write at night and then go to bed, I find my mind is still in a creative setting and I lie there thinking of new ideas. I will always type them as a note on my phone for the next morning. But inspiration hits whenever it wants! I have a lot of notes on my phone (all saved, of course)!

Ashley: Wow, that’s awesome, considering I hear a lot of writers have trouble with writer’s block. Kudos to you!

Did your experience in the military play a big part in writing Relic? If it did, how?

Bronwyn: Not for Relic, no! A few things made it into the book – like this moment when Captain Thorn explains to Kaylan that his men are bound by a rule: ‘one in, all in’. That is something we learnt in the military, that if one person makes a mistake, we all suffer the consequences because it teaches unity and to work as a team. That sounds a bit dark, I know! But it really did work.

Ashley: I wouldn’t say that’s dark, I think it puts military into perspective to be better prepared for any kind of situation which is really important.

So I heard there’s some romance in your book – which are my favourite scenes to read! Who will we be shipping?

Bronwyn: Romance isn’t the central focus of Relic but I have to have some romance in whatever I read/write/watch! Keep an eye out for a certain tall and dirty nobleman who has a big smile for Kaylan. My hope is that your stomach will do little flips when he arrives on the pages, as he does for me! 

I’m actually interested to see if people ship any of the other characters – either with Kaylan or someone else – because a few comments have been made by some friends and reviewers in the past that have surprised me. I find it interesting to see who people fall for and who they ship!

That concludes the Q & A I had with Bronwyn Eley! I’d like to give a huge thank you to Talem Press for reaching out to me to work with them and thank Bronwyn for taking time out of her busy schedule to do our Q & A! It was my pleasure to have Bronwyn as my very first author feature on my website and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did!

Keep scrolling below for more behind the scenes and info.!

RELIC, Bronwyn Eley's debut fantasy novel, is slated for release September 12.

Synopsis

In the city of Edriast, there is no deadlier duty than to serve as the Shadow. As the personal servant of the powerful Lord Rennard, the Shadow's life is all but forfeit. Rennard possesses one of five rare and dangerous Relics – a jewel that protects his bloodline, but slowly poisons everyone else in its proximity. When the current Shadow succumbs to its magic, nineteen-year-old blacksmith Kaylan is summoned to take his place. It's an appointment that will kill her. As the time Kaylan has left ebbs away, hope begins to fade... That is, until she discovers a plot to destroy all five bloodlines in possession of the Relics. A rebel force plans to put an end to Rennard's rule and Kaylan suddenly finds herself embroiled in a cause that might just be worth fighting for. But no cause is without its costs… As her life hangs in the balance and rebellion bears down on Edriast, Kaylan must decide where her loyalties lie – and how she'll leave her mark on the world. Relic is the absorbing first novel in The Relic Trilogy, a thrillingly dark YA fantasy series.

*BONUS BOOK EXCERPT*

Prologue

One thing above all drew people to the Announcements: curiosity. The tension strangling the crowd was palpable, but the fear and the pain were the bait. They were hooked.

The crowd was in the hundreds. Merchants, labourers, Noblemen and students; there was no segregation today. Everyone was here for the same reason, their eyes reflecting a familiar mix of apprehension and fascination. A polite rumble of applause began at the front of the crowd, rippling deeper as their Lord came into view, moving toward the centre of the wooden stage built especially for him. He wore a smile big enough to be seen by everyone there, but his energy emanated prestige and power more than anything. One simple gesture from him was enough to silence the crowd. This was fine by them, as it was easier to listen and observe the man they rarely, if ever, saw.

Their gazes fell as one, taking in the weight of the jewel around his neck, its colour made somehow more beautiful by the sun.

The Relic was the reason they were all here.

As the Lord launched into his speech, the crowd was taken in by his words for only a second before something stole their attention away: his Shadow, slinking onto the stage. Shoulders slumped and head low, the Shadow took his position slightly behind his master, melting into the dark shades around the Lord.

Eyes flicked between him and the yellow jewel around his master’s neck.

The Shadow’s eyes remained on the floor.

Wherever he went, a morbid curiosity followed the Shadow as closely and silently as he followed his master. How many people in the crowd had come solely to see him?

The Shadow brought a hand up to his chest, eyes clenching shut.

A mother with wide eyes watched him closely as he curled forward with apparent pain. The woman wrapped an arm around each of her children, pulling them closer to her body. They were no more than infants. They were safe. She was afraid for herself.

A wave of courteous laughter skipped across the crowd, like a pebble dancing atop water.

The Shadow sputtered blood, droplets of red decorating the wooden stage below. Attention shot to him as his hand flew to his mouth, eyes flicking toward his master. Even now, at the end, he was afraid of the man.

The Lord stopped his speech mid-sentence, but didn’t turn to face his Shadow. Instead, he took a deep breath and brought his hands together in front of his body. The picture of patience.

The Shadow fell to his knees with a violent thump that the crowd seemed to feel, many flinching at the sound of bone cracking against wood. His bloodied mouth was now on full display, but the sight of blood was nothing new to the people of Edriast.

The crowd drew back slowly, moving as one, an undeniable tide. The Shadow, the man, was finally succumbing to his illness, and all anybody cared about was themselves.

Apprehension silenced even the smallest murmur from the crowd – not because the Shadow was dying, but because of what it now meant for them all.

Character Mood Boards & Colours

About the author

Bronwyn joined the military right out of high school, where she learnt (among other things) to disassemble and reassemble a rifle blindfolded. After that she spent a lot of her time travelling around the world. Her favourite places (so far) are Scotland, Mongolia, Iceland and Ireland.

Bronwyn finally found her natural habitat when she landed her first job in the publishing industry. While she has always been a writer, it was only when surrounding herself with books that she realised her life's dream was to become an author. Relic is her first novel.

Bronwyn lives in Sydney and spends her time eating chocolate, reading and practising her martial arts.