#everywhere i go i drag this coffin just in case | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whataboutbibi · 1 year ago

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HELLO STINK, IMMA ALIVE! It's been a month uh 😞 so so sorry for not doing this before but life at uni has been so intense this past month and I wanted to sit and read it properly, the way it deserves and give pof justice but they wouldn't leave me alone, like, i just wanna to go back to my silly fics yk🙄 ENOUGH TALKING let's get into what matters.

“So, from the new album— Wasting Love.” - stop it. I'm already emotional reading this

"Yeah, you haven’t left his fucking mind in the past six months you’ve been apart from one another. It’s been six months, and Corroded Coffin has released two albums and started their second leg of tour since he last saw you— and you’re still all he thinks about." SIX MONTHS MISS MA'AM??? how long did I sleep?

"He feels it when he’s sitting backstage before a show, feels it when he steps into a new hotel room every night, feels it when he’s ruffling through his suitcase and comes across that journal that’s been haunting him for ages now, and he definitely feels it when he reads the fifth page in the Rolling Stone magazine where the description of Eddie resides, the one where you’d crafted and molded Eddie into a shape he’d never been able to see before, the one where Eddie first came to terms with the true sight of you and your intentions." - these two make me emo in the best way 🥹

"He asks about you when he can, because, unbeknownst to you, Eddie’s quite familiar with your boss, Anna, and she’s like an annoying older sister to him." help I loved the plot it caugh me off guard tbh

Gareth scoffs, “Yeah, but you wrote an entire fucking album about her"- as he should btw

Gareth makes a face, eyebrows raising in an ‘I rest my case' manner. “And she’s not a chick,” Eddie adds. - Aww this reminds me of that one time when Eddie called Jeff's gf "chick" (Naomi I think) and he said the same thing to eddie 😃

"And it gets better when Eddie scans the crowd, coming down from the first song of the night and finally taking a look at his audience, and there he sees it— he sees you. There you are under flashing lights, drowning in a sea of people with that glint in your eyes." ME?

God, you’re really fucking here. - LETS FUCKING GOOO

"He’s gotten thicker in the few months, beefier around his arms and chest, and the long chains and pendants he wears from his neck rest down the valley of his torso, smeared in sweat and sin. You want to drag your tongue across his chest, taste the salt and his cologne, tug the silver cross between your lips, and suck and make him whimper."

You missed him. God, you missed him so much. :(

"It’s slightly difficult, and there are a lot of gangly limbs and yearning hands reaching out everywhere, but Eddie eventually gets you over the barricade, and you’re gazing up at him with a warm grin when you sway on your feet. You wish you and Eddie could just walk away and have each other like you’ve been imagining for months, but Eddie has a job, and he’s working." *realising rockstar!eddie it's not just the aesthetic but his actual fucking job lol 😭

"Jeff is smothering Naomi in a sweaty hug and smattering kisses all over her face, and you’re glad to see they’re still together." YES YES YES I was rooting for them too

"It’s dawning on you that most of the pivotal moments between you and Eddie have been in a dressing room, so it’s not irrational for you to feel a bit uneasy when you step in, and Eddie closes the door." - no bc I'd be already freaking the fuck out

You huff out a laugh at that, and Eddie grins. “How is he?” You ask. Eddie tips his head back and forth like he’s thinking, “Same old man as before. Think he’s got a girlfriend now. He’s being an asshole about the details, though.” He rolls his eyes, and you snort. You’re happy to hear Wayne has a person for himself now; if anyone deserves it, it’s him. - so glad when writers give Wayne justice 🫶🏼

Eddie shakes his head, briefly shutting his eyes as he waves you off, “Nah, fuck that. You don’t need to apologize—” “But I do. I told you I wanted space, and then a week later, I’m plastered on a fucking cover with Baine fucking Carter.” - what 😧

Baine Carter is a well-known songwriter within the industry. He’s got tracks spread all over the top charts, and he has a way of talking that can make just about anyone fall into a trance until you realize most of what he’s saying is just made-up bullshit. In hindsight, Baine wasn’t much different than most people in the music industry— it was a moment of weakness and pure vodka-weighted thinking. And, of course, it’s the moment when cameras find you. - the way birdie didn't wasted a sec 💀💀 She's my hero y'all

You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes when he gently squeezes at the warm skin of your thigh. You tip your head lower, holding your gaze on Eddie as you lowly speak, “I’m not having sex with you tonight, Eddie.” - well if birdie doesn't want it I VOLUNTEER MYSELF AS A TRIBUTE 🙋‍♀️

"It’s like a sigh of relief to have Eddie’s lips on yours after such a long time. Weeks of nights and days spent trying to remember how it felt having his plump lips pressed onto yours, how he tasted, how warm his tongue was when it slunk into your mouth. None of those times you’d try to remember, none of those phantom feelings that would breeze through your body could ever amount to how it actually feels— it’s as if you’re seeing color for the first time." FINALLY!!

"There are things that you both need to say, uncover, and express feelings about, and god forbid you get dicknotized before the words can come out correctly." - DICKNOTIZED? LMAO

Your legs are kicked up on the couch, and Eddie finds his fingers slinking around your bare ankle, gently squeezing, “Want something comfy?” He asks. - ...Are we sure this is the same man that ran her over with a golf cart and broke her ankle at the beginning?

You stay quiet, allowing him to speak, “Everybody just lives to work dead-end jobs. Being creative is like… a sin or something, I don’t know. I just want to give the kids somewhere where they’ll feel… safe. Seen. Something I never got for myself.” - STOP I LOVE HIM SM this is brilliant

Eddie snorts at that, pink lacing with yours as a smile spreads across your lips, “Not bad actually, I might name it that.” - and i wanna see it. Epilogue when 🤗

Eddie’s demeanor is unwavering as he blinks at you, but his tone is accusing, “Do you want me to be angry with you so you can feel justified?” -oh😦

“And I’m telling you right now that I’m not angry.” He’s teetering on the edge of irritated now, and you tilt your head. “I listened to the album, Eddie. I listened to the song; you’re seriously gonna tell me you’re not angry?” wtf did he wrote on that album I'm scared💀

"Your chest aches when the lyrics echo in your mind." - 😦 now I get it.

"It’s tender, the space you’ve both created. You’re both fragile and reactive in the best way, like a healing exposed nerve, and Eddie will be forever in your debt for how patient you are with him. He’s not good at talking about real shit, but he’s trying to fix that, and you make it easier because you push him in the way he needs to be— you encourage him to say what he feels even if he’s afraid he might end up shooting himself in the foot and chasing you away again because— ‘It’s the only way things will get better.’" - their chemistry is INSANE. it's so good to witness how things flow between them cause they can be feral over each other but so emotionally intimate at the same time. Does it even make sense?

“Hippie shit,” Eddie mutters as you hop down from his couch. Your eyes narrow, “Hey,” you nudge your foot against his thigh, “Don’t be an asshole. It was on your shelf anyway.” - he's a hater to his core.

"There are tears in your eyes as you blink down at the gift in your hands, and you know Eddie must think you’re insane for crying over a book— a journal at that. It’s a pale yellow colored leather, with two leather straps that are tied into a neat bow, and in the corner, your name is stamped in tiny cursive gold letters— your real name."

"The gift Eddie has for you has been with him since the fourth week he knew you. He’s been holding onto it for so long because he’s been a coward and didn’t know how to form the words ‘I’m sorry’ with his tongue— but now, Eddie’s riding on a high, and he needs you and wants you all the time and there’s no better time than now, right?" -SINCE THE FOURTH. the fourth WEEK?

You laugh at that, body warm with adoration because, yeah, that sounds like your grandfather. You sniffle, wiping under your eyes, “How did you know?” You ask. Eddie shrugs as he sits next to you, “The cover of your journal had his name on it, so I kind of pieced it together since you share a last name.” - boy was scheming

You don’t know what to think, what to say. It’s the kindest thing Eddie (or anyone) has ever done for you. Your grandfather had been in the business of handmaking journals for as long as you can remember; he was part of the reason why you took such a liking to journalism. He had a brief history in journalism himself, and he would sit and go through his best works with you when you struggled to fall asleep— he helped you see the world through the lens of an artist, and you never looked back. - THIS IS PRECIOUS I'm gonna CRY

"Eddie shifts beneath you, and you sigh, turning your head up to nuzzle against the base of his throat. Your teeth drag across his skin, red lines left in their wake before you let your tongue coast up his pulsing vein, mouth kissing and suckling at what you can reach— and Eddie whimpers."

“You know…It’s past midnight.” - yeah well...

His cock feels strangled and achy in his jeans, and he imagines how good it’ll feel to sink his cock into you as he swirls a gentle finger around your entrance. “For the record,” He drawls, watching your lips part when he dips his finger into you, “It’s been nowhere. My dick, I mean.” - You breathlessly laugh, hips wriggling, your pussy eager for more. “Been beating it with my fist for the last six months, so. Just want you to know— it’s only you, baby.” - when he goes celibate for us <3

“Quit teasing,” You whine, squirming beneath him. Eddie grins, breathlessly panting as he looks at you, “So impatient.” He mumbles, shifting further up your body until the inside of his thighs press against the side of your tits. You can feel the cool drag of his rings against your sternum, and it sends licks of fire through your core. “My baby’s so impatient, hm?” He taps his cock against your chest, and your frown, fingers digging into his thighs."

All of us and birdie rn:

And you think to yourself, with the scent of Eddie whirling around you and his touch all over you and his pretty voice in your ear, that yeah, you can work through this together. Even if the process will tear you to shreds all over again. After all, that’s the price of falling for a rockstar, isn’t it?" - woah and I'll never be the same again stink 😭 I'm so glad I found the series, it was fun to keep up with it and you ended it just the way they deserved <3

Also, sorry for talking too much I have to contain myself. But that's it for now. I'll miss it SM! Byee stink 🫶🏼🥲

PRICE OF FAME (PART 12/12)

AHHH !! friends, we've come to the end of my first fully done series, and she's not perfect in a lot of ways but she's mine and I'm so happy and thankful to have shared it with you lovely folks

i hope I've done them justice, enjoy <3

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: you decide to visit eddie for a chat

contains: enemies to lovers trope, drug and alcohol use, smut, oral (m receiving), mentions of anal, mentions of death (readers relative), sexual themes, angst, heavy mutual pining, fluff, and eddie being so head over heels that it's hot <3

word count: 10.6k

| previous part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

“So, from the new album— Wasting Love.”

Over time, Eddie’s learned that he can’t stand interviews— especially interviews with questions aimed towards nothing but tabloid gossip and headlines. The first big interview that Corroded Coffin booked was exciting because— well, it was their first one! Maybe the questions weren’t as intricate and thought-out as the ones they gave David Bowie on TV, but it was something.

That excitement wore off quickly, though, and unfortunately, interviews are one of the top ways to spread publicity so— “Wasting love,” Eddie huffs, tipping his hips forward as he shifts on the couch. He’s bored out of his mind, aching to leave and be done with the shitty questions about his love life or the people he hangs around or whatever. He taps the heel of his foot into the ground, lips twisting as he chews at the inside of his cheek, “What about it, man?” Eddie asks.

The rest of the band is in the fucking clouds— why would they answer a question about a song entirely unrelated to them? Plus, Eddie’s 99.9% sure they did a few lines without him, which, fucking assholes.

The interviewer shrugs, “Well, why didn’t it make it to the final cut? And what’s it about? Tell us more about that track.”

What a bullshit fucking question.

Wasting Love is one of the most, if not the most, straightforward songs Eddie’s ever fucking written. The only reason why he’s asking about this is because, well, there’s been rumors of Eddie and his most recent love affair— none of which are true, but Eddie doesn’t bother to come out and tell the truth because what’s the point? What’s the point in telling the truth if it will get twisted anyway?

Either way, Eddie shrugs, blinking behind his dark sunglasses, “I mean…” He purses his lips and tips his head side to side as if thinking, “Kinda self-explanatory with the lyrics, man.” He finally responds.

And in the background, Eddie can see Richie practically constructing his next ‘I know you hate it, but it’s good publicity’ lecture. So, Eddie relents— “It’s about… meaningless sex basically. And it didn’t make the cut because it was a shitty song.”

It wasn’t, actually, Eddie thinks it was a great fucking song, but the intentions behind it— not quite so.

“I think the fans would disagree on that.” The interviewer jokes.

Jeff takes a deep breath and shifts in his seat, “I mean, part of it was because it just didn’t flow with the essence of the album.” He adds, and Eddie mentally thanks him for taking over and so easily diverting the topic to something else. For the rest of the interview, Eddie’s mind is elsewhere, thinking about everything outside of this room, thinking about what he’ll eat later, thinking about the show tonight, thinking about you.

Yeah, you haven’t left his fucking mind in the past six months you’ve been apart from one another. It’s been six months, and Corroded Coffin has released two albums and started their second leg of tour since he last saw you— and you’re still all he thinks about.

You’re still in his dreams, still dancing behind his eyelids when he shuts his eyes, still vomiting all over his fucking journal when he writes. It’s madness, really. Eddie can’t remember the last time he was this hung up on someone— he wasn’t even this distraught when Chrissy left him.

Sure when he and Chrissy ended, he wallowed in it for a month or two, but it wasn’t long before he got fixed on uppers and groupies. Chrissy was heartbreaking in the sense that she was his first love, his first real relationship— but this… this is different. Eddie doesn’t know why it’s different, can’t really pinpoint where the colors change, and the memories start to jab at his chest differently, but he feels it.

He feels it when he’s sitting backstage before a show, feels it when he steps into a new hotel room every night, feels it when he’s ruffling through his suitcase and comes across that journal that’s been haunting him for ages now, and he definitely feels it when he reads the fifth page in the Rolling Stone magazine where the description of Eddie resides, the one where you’d crafted and molded Eddie into a shape he’d never been able to see before, the one where Eddie first came to terms with the true sight of you and your intentions.

Yeah, it’s fucking bullshit, Eddie thinks.

He doesn’t know how he ended up in this predicament, but by god, he would never fucking recommend it because— fuck, you won’t even talk to him!

And sure, you don’t owe Eddie anything, you don’t owe him a call or a chance to visit or anything of the sort, but Eddie was holding onto that sliver of hope you gave him before you left.

He asks about you when he can, because, unbeknownst to you, Eddie’s quite familiar with your boss, Anna, and she’s like an annoying older sister to him. Anna tells Eddie how much of an idiot he is occasionally, but she always cracks and tells Eddie that you’ve been good and how you sometimes mention him, but it’s always quick, and nobody ever has room to pry about it. And when Anna tells Eddie about how you crossed paths backstage with a certain red-headed girl and read her to filth, Eddie chuckles and mumbles something along the lines of, “That’s my girl.”

Anna nearly gagged then.

Still, Eddie only catches glimpses and whispers of you, never really getting the full fix to last him a day, but it’s enough to keep him alive and wanting.

“Maybe she doesn’t get your calls, man.” Gareth shrugs, leaning into the mirror as he ruffles his hair. It’s been hours since the interview now, and showtime is in… Eddie doesn’t know when because he didn’t listen when Richie was rambling on about tonight’s schedule.

“She gets my calls, dude; Anna said she does,” Eddie grumbles.

“Okay, well, then maybe she’s just, like, over it. I don’t blame her; you're a pain in the ass.”

Eddie kicks his boot into Gareth’s shin, and the boy hisses, tossing a red Rillos wrapper at him. “Ow, asshole. It’s not my fault she hates your music.” He snips. Eddie makes a face, “It’s your music too, dumbass.”

Gareth scoffs, “Yeah, but you wrote an entire fucking album about her. Our album is literally about her, you know that, right?” And Eddie thinks he should just kick Gareth’s teeth in at this point, maybe that’ll get him to shut up. “How would you know it’s about her if I never told you it was?” Eddie prods.

Gareth rolls his eyes, dark eyeliner casting a shadow on his face as he turns to glare at his friend. “Is there another chick you’ve been fucking that’s got you by the balls that we seem to have forgotten about?” Gareth sarcastically asks. Eddie glares at him, reaching for the cigarettes on the vanity table and sparking up.

He speaks around a cloud of smoke when he answers, “No.”

Gareth makes a face, eyebrows raising in an ‘I rest my case' manner. “And she’s not a chick,” Eddie adds.

Gareth hums with a tight grin, reaching out to poke at his friend's face, causing Eddie to grimace and bat him away, “You’re in love, Munson. Fix it or get over it,” He says shortly before making his way toward the door. Eddie can hear the dull scream of fans when Gareth opens the door, and Eddie thinks about the tickets he’s sent you every show— prays to whatever false god there is that you decided tonight is the night before he decides hope is useless and you’ve gotten over him. Gareth cuts through Eddie’s thoughts, “Come on, I can hear Richie’s bitching from here.”

Eddie’s mind is never in the game until he steps onto the stage, with bright lights blinding him, screaming fans, and his adrenaline at an all-time high. He comes back to earth then, comes back, and does the fuck out of his job— because this is the best part. The best fucking part, and it’s always been that way.

And it gets better when Eddie scans the crowd, coming down from the first song of the night and finally taking a look at his audience, and there he sees it— he sees you. There you are under flashing lights, drowning in a sea of people with that glint in your eyes.

Eddie thinks he’s imagining it because, fuck, he’s been dreaming of this for weeks on end; surely his delusion can reach the heights of hallucinations, right? But no, you’re real.

You’re so fucking real. So fucking insanely real beneath Eddie’s fingertips when he reaches out, ignoring the screams and clawing of fans as his fingers loop around your wrists and he says your name.

God, you’re really fucking here.

Eddie looks prettier than you remember when you first see him— curly mane draped over his shoulders and dark tattoos glistening on a bare torso, white lights framing him like he’s some kind of fucking archangel.

He’s gotten thicker in the few months, beefier around his arms and chest, and the long chains and pendants he wears from his neck rest down the valley of his torso, smeared in sweat and sin. You want to drag your tongue across his chest, taste the salt and his cologne, tug the silver cross between your lips, and suck and make him whimper.

His eyeliner is smudged and dark, and his smile when he gets a moment to take in the crowd makes your chest ache. He’s so pretty it hurts. He’s a dream and a nightmare all at once.

You missed him. God, you missed him so much.

His smile falters when he sees you, and you don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but his eyebrows pinch like he’s in pain, and you only want to wrap yourself around him and breathe in that scent that’s been haunting for nights on end.

He’s insane for jumping down to the barricade, like, completely-lost-his-fucking-mind, down-in-the-gutter, insane. But you can’t find it in you to protest when he steps up to the fence, reaching out and looping his warm finger around your wrist. “What the fuck?”

Your lips twitch into a smile at his words, but the crowd is getting rowdy with their beloved rockstar so up close and an elbow is being shoved into your side and Eddie moves quicker than you can comprehend, tugging you forward to the very front and motioning you to jump over.

“You’re insane!” You yell over the noise of the crowd. Eddie grins, damp curls dangling over his eyes as he peers down at you, “Unless if you wanna get crushed, be my guest.”

It’s slightly difficult, and there are a lot of gangly limbs and yearning hands reaching out everywhere, but Eddie eventually gets you over the barricade, and you’re gazing up at him with a warm grin when you sway on your feet. You wish you and Eddie could just walk away and have each other like you’ve been imagining for months, but Eddie has a job, and he’s working.

His eyes are blown wide, and his lips are so kissable, and his warm hand is squeezing your hip as he nods toward a security guard. “Keep an eye on this one, Rob,” He shouts over the screaming fans. You’re eyeing Eddie as he steps back toward the stage, sinking his in-ear back into place with a sly grin as he winks, “She’s real sneaky.”

The show is great, as it always is, and Eddie tries to be deft about it, but it’s evident to just about everyone how he practically clings to the side of the stage where you’re standing in front of. It’s cute, you’ll admit, but you feel bad for the fans, so you try to move around a bit.

The last song comes, and the show ends with Eddie and Jeff practically climbing over one another as they shred their guitars and the crowd goes insane when Eddie leans forward to drag his tongue up the side of Jeff’s face, grinning when the other boy rolls his eyes and walks off.

You’re being pulled backstage quicker than you know it, just in time to meet the group as they jog off the smokey stage with big grins on their faces.

Jeff is smothering Naomi in a sweaty hug and smattering kisses all over her face, and you’re glad to see they’re still together. Gareth is twirling his drumstick between his fingers and scanning the room for someone, but you don’t have time to try and figure out who because the one person you’ve been waiting for steps out next, and he’s got the biggest grin on his face as he practically jogs up to you.

You’re smiling and giggling out a greeting as he steps up to you and grasps your face between his hands, “No kisses!” You warn before he can lean in, and Eddie’s too excited to even pout about it. “You’re gonna fucking kill me, you know that?”

You reach up to slink your fingers around his wrists as his thumbs caress the soft skin beneath your eyes, “Got enough life left in you to talk?” You ask. Eddie’s eyes dance across your face, taking you in like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance to before he nods. “Always.”

The dressing room seems to be the altar of truth for you and Eddie.

It’s dawning on you that most of the pivotal moments between you and Eddie have been in a dressing room, so it’s not irrational for you to feel a bit uneasy when you step in, and Eddie closes the door.

He’s like a kid in a candy store, trying not to touch what he sees. His eyes are so bright, but you can tell he’s holding himself back from doing and saying the things he wants, and you appreciate that he’s giving you the space, waiting for you to give him your yes or no.

Eddie plops onto the couch in the middle of the room and looks at you with a glint in his eyes. You deeply breathe, shifting in your spot before leaning back against the door, tipping your head as you study him; thighs comfortably spread, inked stories fluttering to life with each rise and fall of his bare torso. He’s a dream.

“I thought you’d be way more upset.”

Eddie’s lips tug like he wants to smile at the sound of your voice, or maybe it’s the sight of you, and he shifts in his seat with a shrug, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a cigarette and sticks it between his lips, and when you see him pat himself down, you’re already moving like it’s muscle memory.

You pick up the lighter on the coffee table and walk over to Eddie, sparking the flame as you speak, “You’re allowed to be upset, you know?” You remind him. Eddie’s gaze flickers in color as he looks up at you, and you try to ignore the goosebumps that rise up on your skin when his hand reaches up to rest on your hip, thumb caressing you over the material of your skintight dress. Streams of fire are licking up your spine as he leans forward to burn the end of the paper stick, and your center aches when he gently squeezes the fat of your hip. All throughout this, Eddie never lets his eyes fall from you.

He mumbles a short thank you once the cigarette lights, leaning back to rest against the seat as he looks up at you. You fight the urge to comb your fingers through his hair or do something dumb like climb into his lap. No doubt talking would fly out the window then.

You gently toss the lighter onto the coffee table and sit on the loveseat across from the pinnacle of your thoughts from the last six months. Eddie speaks around a cloud of smoke, “Do you want me to be upset?” He asks.

You shrug, trying your hardest not to break beneath his unwavering eye. “I don’t know.”

Eddie smiles then, and the strings of your heart play a symphony to the notes of his voice when he speaks, “I was for a little bit,” He admits, tapping ash onto the carpet, “But then Wayne told me to get my head out of my ass.”

You shift, like you can’t seem to get comfortable enough, and you know you’re stalling, and you can see Eddie fighting to not call you out, so you try to ease into it; “Is that when you stopped calling?” You ask.

Eddie stiffens under the question, and you know the answer. He grimaces and runs a hand over his face with a soft groan, “Fuck,” he curses, “Fuck, yeah, it was.” He answers. “I’m sorry, I’m a fuckin’ hothead. I had made it a goal to call every night and then—” “I upset you.”

Eddie’s eyes are soft, and you have to force yourself to keep your eyes on his, “It wasn’t fair what I did, Eddie; I’m sorry—”

“Kinda my fault too,” Eddie shrugs, “Camera’s wouldn’t have found you if I didn’t have press riding me.” And he’s right, but shitty press isn’t his fault, so how much of that can you really blame him for?

Eddie snickers at the memory of you painted on the cover of several magazines, “Think you’ve got a type, sweetheart.” He teases. Your face screws up in defense, and you scoff, “What does that mean?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, “Come on, you’re gonna tell me you didn’t say my name when he—” “We didn’t do anything— firstly— and even if I did say your name, I would never in a million years admit it.” You point out with a raised eyebrow.

Eddie smirks with a playful glint in his eye and he deeply breathes as he ashes his cigarette and rises to his feet. “I don’t care that you hooked up with Bain fucking Carter,” Eddie softly admits with a hint of a mocking grin, “Did it deeply wound me to the point where I almost thought I was gonna die? Yes.” He jokingly says, to which you want to roll your eyes at, but he’s stalking over to you like he’s some lion on the prowl, and all you can muster is a small huff with a mumbled, “You’re dramatic.”

Eddie stands in front of you and leans over to press his palms onto each side of your seat, leaning down until his face hovers above yours, “I’m kinda known for it, darling.” He winks.

Your core stirs at the proximity, and you can feel his breath against your top lip. “I will admit, though,” Eddie lets his hand drop to round over your bare knee, callused fingertips caressing your soft skin, “It gave me a huge ego boost seeing you with a literal replica of me.” He snickers, fingers dancing into the inside of your thigh. You huff, a playful glint in your eyes as you run your tongue across your teeth, “Yeah, I imagine your head couldn’t fit through the door for at least a month, huh?”

Eddie shrugs, “Depends. Which head we talking about, honey?”

Brown eyes flash with a familiar look you’d missed before they drop to your lips. “What about a kiss? Just one.” He presses. Your eyes narrow, “I doubt you could ever do just one.”

“You’ll never know if you never try.” His lips twitch up into a sly grin, taunting you and pushing you until your brain is just a muddled mess of yes, no, yes, no, yes, n— fuck it.

It’s like a sigh of relief to have Eddie’s lips on yours after such a long time. Weeks of nights and days spent trying to remember how it felt having his plump lips pressed onto yours, how he tasted, how warm his tongue was when it slunk into your mouth. None of those times you’d try to remember, none of those phantom feelings that would breeze through your body could ever amount to how it actually feels— it’s as if you’re seeing color for the first time.

It’s a fucking kiss, that’s for sure.

It’s long, and it takes you both a second to relearn the kinks and maneuvers you both favor, but then it’s as if time never passed between your bodies— you’re moving like one unit, like every second of your lives has built up to this moment.

Unfortunately, air is a necessity to living, so you’re pulling away sooner than you’d wanted to. Eddie’s other hand is digging into the cushion beneath you, and you can practically hear his thoughts spinning as he wills himself to pull back. You shiver as his fingers squeeze your thigh one last time before slipping away.

“How's that for a kiss?”

Brown eyes with pools of liquid gold, you missed the searing pain it gave you each time you reached out and touched. You purse your lips, tasting him on your tongue as you tip your head in thought— menthol and whiskey. “Care to answer a few questions? Pick up on our game?”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, breath tickling your nose as he snickers with a glint in his eyes. He studies you for a moment, like you might pull out and say never mind, but you only raise an eyebrow as you await an answer. “Your place or mine, honey?” He drawls.

You preen at the open door he’s lent you, “It’s your city, isn’t it?”

You don’t take the same car with Eddie to his place.

It’s not that you didn’t want to take the same car, but something about that look in Eddie’s eyes said that he absolutely wouldn’t be behaving on that car ride, and you immediately suggested separate vehicles. You’re unsure if you trust yourself to hold your promise in a confined space with Eddie… or maybe you don’t trust him… or— yeah, it’s both of you. Eddie wasn’t ecstatic about it, but you don’t care because you swear to god you aren’t going to fuck Eddie before you talk— like, really talk.

There are things that you both need to say, uncover, and express feelings about, and god forbid you get dicknotized before the words can come out correctly.

Eddie’s home is everything you thought it would be: chaotic in taste, lively, musical, whimsical, and all things that scream Eddie. The entryway is open and vast, with a clear view into the living room, where you can see a sunken living room build with guitars and papers strewn about.

Eddie’s ushering you further into his home before you can look deeper into the entrance, but you don’t mind because his living area is like an artist's wet dream. There are comfy couches, red, cream, and colors alike, and there’s a rug in the middle that looks like a psychedelic trip of dark colors, and along one of the walls is a long shelf of endless records.

“I moved in like a year ago, so it’s not perfect, but… this is me,” Eddie says. You hadn’t been paying attention, but now that he walks into your line of vision, you can see his shoes are off, and his loose blouse is fully open. He looks like a fantasy; lean body dripped in expensive clothes and clinking jewelry, shoulders broad and sculpted beneath his wavy hair. Fuck.

You slip your shoes off and let your feet sink into his home's fluffy, deep red carpet, never once dropping your gaze from him as you walk over to the couch. “It’s beautiful, Eddie. It’s very you.”

You sink into his couch, turning so you can face him with your arms crossed over the back of the sofa as you watch him pick a record and set it up. Through the surround system of his home, the familiar riff to Tommy Bolin’s Shake The Devil rings. You watch Eddie sink a hand into his hair, shaking out his messy curls before pausing. The guitar is loud and you’re leaning forward when he snaps his head to dramatically look over his shoulder. You stifle a laugh, intrigued to see where he’s going with this— and you hate to admit that you begin enjoying the show when he turns around, fingers crafted and messily playing an air guitar to the track.

His stomach and chest flex with each of his moves, the buckle and button to his jeans open to flash you a dangerously low view of his happy trail leading to sinful places. He’s walking sex; head tilted back as he shreds the imaginary guitar, hips moving with the song as he walks toward you. He sinks to his knees in front of you, and with his living room being sunken and him still being on the higher level, you’re just in line with the view of his spread legs, crotch on full display. His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he gazes at you, switching to air drums before the words kick in. You can’t hide the smile that graces your lips as he dramatically sings along, leaning forward until his face is just inches in front of yours, ringed fingers reaching to cup your face. Standing face to face with the devil, huh?

Your hands have a mind of their own apparently because they reach out and coast up Eddie’s jean-clad thighs, nails scratching up against the material until your fingers hook into the belt loops of his jeans. You lean forward on your knees, sharing a breath with the pretty boy, and you smile. Eddie groans low in his throat, the breakdown of the song blasting in both your ears and your heart racing. His teeth dig into his lips like he’s trying to physically hold himself back, and you softly laugh. “Laughin’ at my misery?” He asks.

You shrug, “Maybe. You look fuckin’ hot.”

Eddie groans again, eyes rolling back into his head before he dives forward, nuzzling his face into your neck and faking a bite as you squeal. “Can’t say shit like that to me, princess. Wanna fuck the shit out of you.” His teeth drag against your pulse, and you squirm with a louder squeal, causing him to tumble forward, collapsing onto the couch with you, and your limbs mix like one big painting as he dramatically grunts on impact. He shifts until he’s laid on his back, head resting in your lap as he peers up at you.

“You staying the night?” He asks.

You snort, brushing a strand of hair from his face, “Didn’t I tell you we’re not having sex?” You remind him. Eddie huffs and digs his head into your lap as he shuffles in his spot, “Did I ask for sex just now?” He challenges. You raise an unconvinced eyebrow, “So, you want me to spend the night just to spend the night?”

Eddie’s eyes gleam as he looks up at you, “It’s been my dream.”

You roll your eyes, playfully shoving him off you with a huff, “Get me a drink, and I’ll think about it?”

Eddie hops up as if second nature, padding over to the stereo and turning it down just enough to hear you as he talks over his shoulder, “Sure thing, honey; what would you like?”

Honey, honey, honey.

You want to drown in it.

You’re not listening as Eddie lists off the drinks he has, busy swirling in sticky, sweet, golden lakes and admiring the shift of Eddie’s hips and ass beneath his jeans. “Surprise me.” You respond.

“Copy that, madam.”

He doesn’t go far because there’s a built-in bar on the other side of the room, so you have the perfect view of him working his magic, mixing liquor and dropping ice cubes into a crystal glass. When he finishes making your drink, he turns and walks over to you with this glint in his eyes, and you feel your body heat under his gaze. “This one's on the house,” He says with a wink, handing you the drink. You thank him, taking the glass as he sits back onto the couch, sinking into the plush cushions and watching you gently sip before pulling a sour face.

He laughs, “Too strong?” He asks. You grimace with a shake of your head, smacking your lips, “No, no, it’s good. Thank you.”

Your legs are kicked up on the couch, and Eddie finds his fingers slinking around your bare ankle, gently squeezing, “Want something comfy?” He asks.

God, he’s relentless.

You laugh, “You really want me to stay,” You tease. Eddie sinks like he’s letting all inhibitions go as he answers, “Desperately.”

He can tell you’re cracking, and you have to hide your grin behind the glass as you shake your head in disbelief at yourself, “Fine. Go, before I change my mind.”

And Eddie’s sprinting up, holding his jeans up from falling as he jogs up the stairs with a happy cheer.

A half-hour passes, and you find yourself sitting on Eddie’s comfy living room floor, dressed in nothing but an oversized shirt of his because, in Eddie’s words, ‘there’s no need for pants in a home setting, sweetheart.’ You think he just wants easy access and an eyeful of your bare legs.

Eddie’s licking up the crease of a blunt and your body is warm with whiskey and the shrill of a jazzy melody from the radio. He’s so pretty, leaned over the glass coffee table, bare shoulders flexing, curly hair draping as a curtain as he works. He clicks his tongue when he’s done, and you raise an eyebrow, pressing your bare toes into his thigh when he scoots closer. “Up for a smoke?” He asks.

You don’t smoke much, not that you don’t enjoy a nice high, but you find yourself more appreciative of your highs when they’re spaced out and random. You nod, and Eddie grins, “Atta girl. Here, honorary first hit,” He passes the blunt to you, and you snicker, grasping it between two fingers and holding it up to your lips. Eddie helps you with a lighter, leaning forward to burn the end of the paper, and you take one good drag before pulling the bunt away, rolling the smoke into your lungs to settle as best as you can handle before you sputter out in a small coughing fit.

Your eyes water, and Eddie grins as you pass it to him, leaning forward to kiss your temple, “That was good, baby.”

You watch as he takes a hit of his own, huffing out a few coughs of his own, and jesus christ, why do rockstars always smoke devious shit? It’s strong, whatever Eddie has you smoking, and it only takes you three hits before you already feel a buzz coming, and Eddie looks so pretty with low eyes and rosy cheeks.

“Ready to play our game?” He rasps out.

“Mm.” You agree, reaching out to take another hit.

“Did you listen to the albums?”

I can't destroy what isn't there

Deliver me into my fate

If I'm alone I cannot hate

I don't deserve to have you

Oh my smile was taken long ago

If I can change I hope I never know

God, did you listen to the albums? Sure, you have it ingrained into your fucking mind, and it burns.

You smile, slowly blinking because, of course, that’s Eddie’s first question. You breathe out clouds of fairy dust as you speak, “Yes, I did. Did you read the magazine?” You ask.

Eddie nods, leaning back against the couch, extending his legs out as he eyes you, “I did. Which song did you like best?”

“Mm, the one with the drums.” You smile.

Eddie laughs, and you pass the blunt back to him before leaning back on the opposite couch, toes almost touching when you extend your legs across the carpet. “You’re a kiss-up, you know that?” He gestures to you, to which you only shrug.

Eddie crawls across the living room, and you fight the urge to reach out and thread your fingers through his hair as he plops himself right next to you, leaning against the couch as well. Your thighs are touching, and you can feel the warmth of him, and the smell of weed is wafting through the air, and you just want to nuzzle into Eddie’s chest and never leave.

“Miss me?” You teasingly ask. You can hear the slight smile in Eddie’s voice as he responds, “Negative. You?”

You snort, “Negative.”

You shuffle to lean against Eddie, and he can’t seem to help it when he reaches out to push your hair back gently. “What do you wanna be when you grow up?” You ask.

Eddie’s eyebrows pinch in confusion, no doubt lost by what you mean, considering he already has his lifetime job figured out, “What do you mean?”

You sigh, wriggling as you fight the urge to wrap your body around him, “I mean,” You shrug, “Well, you’re not gonna do this forever, right? Like, at some point, you’re going to have to throw in the towel, age, and whatnot,” You dismissively wave, “What will you do then?”

Eddie pauses and thinks for a moment, and if you couldn’t feel the warmth of his skin on yours, you would think he vanished into thin air. “I, uh…. Well, you’ll think it’s stupid.” He mumbles.

You frown, turning your head to look at him, “I won’t. Tell me. Please?”

He looks at you with these soft, fond eyes before nodding, “I wanna start a music school in Hawkins— maybe, like, a creative arts school, you know, something for the weirdos. Not just music geeks.” He admits. His tone is so soft, maybe the softest you’ve ever heard, and he’s fiddling with his rings like he’s nervous, and it’s the cutest sight you’ve ever seen.

“It’s not really celebrated there. Creativity, I mean.” He adds.

It’s… it’s fucking brilliant. It’s so brilliant it makes your chest ache, and you decide that you would do just about anything to make sure Eddie’s dreams of a music school come true.

“I told you it’s stupid. No one ever thinks it’s good.” He mumbles after a moment with your silence. You frown and shake your head, sitting up straight to look at him. “No. No, Eddie, it’s amazing…It’s fucking amazing, and you should do it. You have to do it.”

“You’re just playing nice.”

“No, seriously. Fuck whoever said it wasn’t a good idea, it’s brilliant.” You press on, and you want to lean in and pepper kisses all over his face because— seriously, who the fuck told him it was a shitty idea?

“I grew up in a small town too, and— shit, it was not fun wanting to be something other than a nurse or a teacher. Got a lot of shit trying to ‘reach for the stars’,” You huff out a laugh. Eddie’s eyes are so gentle as they gaze at you that you almost melt. “I would’ve appreciated something like that. Munson’s School of Arts.”

Eddie snorts at that, pink lacing with yours as a smile spreads across your lips, “Not bad actually, I might name it that.”

It’s a back and forth of that for a while, silly questions amongst genuine ones until you find yourselves sat next to each other, arms pressed together, bodies yearning to wrap around each other as you fiddle with the strings of Eddie’s carpet. And there’s something, you know. Eddie feels something that he’s not telling you, and it’s killing you because it’s what you need to hear before you take the plunge. “Are you angry with me?” You softly ask.

Eddie’s quiet for a moment, and the blunt was snuffed out a while ago, so he’s not taking a drag but instead just stalling. “I mean,” he pauses, “I already told you, Birdie. What’s the point in going back on it?”

You frown, glancing at him, “Because I want you to tell me how you feel, Eddie.” You respond.

Eddie’s silent again for a longer moment, and you want to whine when he shifts away to sit in front of you. He folds his legs up, resting his elbows over his knees as he sits face to face with you, “Do you want me to be angry with you?” He steadily asks.

Your blink, “I— no?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, and you huff, “Honestly, a little bit, yes. It’s okay to be angry with me, Eddie; that’s what I’m trying to say.”

Eddie’s demeanor is unwavering as he blinks at you, but his tone is accusing, “Do you want me to be angry with you so you can feel justified?”

And, ouch.

That’s not the truth at all. Or maybe it’s some truth, but in your true feelings, that’s not what you mean. It’s only a fleeting thought because you’re human, after all, right?

“That’s not fair,” You frown with a small shake of your head. Eddie raises another eyebrow, and you tilt your head, “I’m only trying to be as transparent as possible, Eddie. That was the main issue.” You remind him.

Eddie turns to the coffee table, grabs your forgotten glass of Jack Daniels, and takes a swig for himself. “You wouldn’t tell me how you felt, and I was always left in the dark.” You say.

Eddie can only glance at you then, and your frown deepens. “That’s… different.”

“How, Eddie? It’s about me—” “Yeah, because you fucking walked out on me on closing night,” Eddie exclaims. “How was I supposed to feel?”

Your chest tightens as you look into the eyes of your dreams, lyrics swirling in your mind because you’ve fucking memorized every word. You listened to it until you felt sick, dizzy with a whirlwind of regrets and what-ifs.

You sold me out to save yourself

And I won't listen to your shame

You ran away, you're all the same

Angels lie to keep control

Your chest aches when the lyrics echo in your mind.

“I just want you to be honest with me. If I made you feel that way—” “No, that’s not—” Eddie shakes his head, pinches the bridge of his nose, and cringes like it's painful. “That’s not it at all— fuck.” He puts the glass down and scoots back over to you; knees pressed into the fluffy carpet beside your thighs as he leans in and cups your face, eyes darting over your pretty features. “I was angry, and I was a shithead, and I had people talking in my ear and— shit. Please don’t think you ever blame yourself for that, please.”

Your fingers are cold, but Eddie’s wrists are warm beneath your fingertips as you frown up at him, “Just tell me how far out you are, Eds.”

Eddie looks at you with soft eyes, a callused thumb running under the delicate skin beneath your eye. He leans forward, pressing his lips against your forehead, and you preen, nuzzling forward and sinking into his warmth and scent that you’ve missed for so long.

“Not far,” He responds, lips brushing over your skin. “You?”

You hum, body reeling as Eddie slinks his arms around you, “Not far.”

Forty minutes and another blunt later, and Eddie’s floating in the fucking sky.

Eddie can’t believe it really, having you in front of him, next to him, limbs pressed to limbs with your laugh ringing in his ears— Eddie thinks this is some sick, realistic dream.

It’s tender, the space you’ve both created. You’re both fragile and reactive in the best way, like a healing exposed nerve, and Eddie will be forever in your debt for how patient you are with him. He’s not good at talking about real shit, but he’s trying to fix that, and you make it easier because you push him in the way he needs to be— you encourage him to say what he feels even if he’s afraid he might end up shooting himself in the foot and chasing you away again because— ‘It’s the only way things will get better.’

But you’ve always been patient. You were patient six months ago, and you’re patient now. You know exactly what you want, and you’re firm in what you say and feel, and it makes Eddie feel safe.

He’s never had this kind of thing— he’s never had a relationship where someone talks and leaves room for him to speak as well— two-way communication or whatever the fuck Robin says. It’s different, and it’s good, and Eddie thinks he must have shit taste if it’s taken him this long to realize it.

Chrissy never really cared for what Eddie wanted or preferred, or how something she did would make him feel. Eddie, at the time, didn’t think much of it and was more than happy to ride along with her ‘low maintenance’ nature, but it only cut him off from growth more than anything.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore because Chrissy is in the past, and you— you’re so pretty standing on Eddie’s couch in just his shirt with a blunt hanging between your fingers. You’ve just returned from changing the record— Surrealistic Pillow; Eddie knew the second you dropped the needle and watched you spin around with a shit-eating grin.

“Hippie shit,” Eddie mutters as you hop down from his couch. Your eyes narrow, “Hey,” you nudge your foot against his thigh, “Don’t be an asshole. It was on your shelf anyway.”

Eddie slinks his hand around your calf, blinking up at you as you stand over him. You reach down, the burning blunt standing between your fingers, and Eddie happily parts his lips to let you slip the tip in. Burning sativa licks up the sides of Eddie’s brain, and he melts when your other hand sinks into his hair, gently pressing his bangs back as his eyes flutter. You hum, and Eddie’s lips tip into a smile as the smoke churns in his chest. Your knuckles curl into his roots, and Eddie could fucking cum right now, no questions asked.

He’s harder than a rock, and he’s not ashamed when he sinks his hand down the open fly on his jeans to palm himself, lowly groaning as he tips his head up, playfully blowing clouds of smoke up your shirt and grinning when you squeal. He chuckles, hand slinking further up your leg to grip the fat of your thigh as he tilts his head to nip his teeth at the inside of your knee.

He turns to let his chin rest on your thigh, blinking up at you with hazy eyes, “Let me in, baby.” He pleads.

You sink to your knees until you’re face to face, and Eddie’s hands glide under your shirt, warm and itching to explore as he feels the flutter of your lungs beneath his fingertips. “No funny business, Munson.” You remind him, swatting him away when his fingers prod at the cup of your bra. Eddie grins, brain fuzzy and warm, and he can’t stop himself from leaning forward and planting a quick kiss against your lips.

“I have something for you.” He says. Your eyebrows raise, and Eddie smiles, standing up with a grunt and shaking out his stiff limbs. “Don’t move,” He points to you before padding off.

The gift Eddie has for you has been with him since the fourth week he knew you. He’s been holding onto it for so long because he’s been a coward and didn’t know how to form the words ‘I’m sorry’ with his tongue— but now, Eddie’s riding on a high, and he needs you and wants you all the time and there’s no better time than now, right?

He’s holding the gift behind his back when he steps into the living room, and he smiles at the sight of you laid out on his floor, eyes closed as you sink into the music. You’re on cloud nine, Eddie can tell.

He drops to his knees over you, pressing his free hand into the floor beside your head, and his hair creates a curtain over you when you look up at him. “You look… tempting, to say the least.”

Your eyes playfully narrow at Eddie, and you squirm beneath him, “What’re you hiding behind your back?”

There are tears in your eyes as you blink down at the gift in your hands, and you know Eddie must think you’re insane for crying over a book— a journal at that. It’s a pale yellow colored leather, with two leather straps that are tied into a neat bow, and in the corner, your name is stamped in tiny cursive gold letters— your real name.

It’s a replica of your old journal, the one that had gotten ruined when you tore the pages out to prove a point. But you don’t understand— “How did you get this?” You ask in a soft voice.

Eddie grins, reaching out to thumb at your bottom lip, eyes soft as he watches your eyes dance over the journal. “Called in a favor from Michigan.” He jokingly says. Your chest aches, and you frown when you look up at him, fingers tight around the binding of your gift, “You talked to him?”

Eddie snickers, “Yeah. Got a lot of shit from him first, I’ll tell you that,” He pauses and scratches at the back of his neck, “He told me he hates my music.”

You laugh at that, body warm with adoration because, yeah, that sounds like your grandfather. You sniffle, wiping under your eyes, “How did you know?” You ask.

Eddie shrugs as he sits next to you, “The cover of your journal had his name on it, so I kind of pieced it together since you share a last name.”

You’re elated as you run your hands over the pages, imagining what the phone call between Eddie and your grandfather was like. You wish you could’ve been there to hear it; you wish you could’ve brought Eddie to meet him in person because even though your grandfather acted tough and mighty, he had the softest heart you’ve ever known, and he would’ve adored Eddie.

You huff out a laugh, shaking your head as you put the journal on the coffee table. You huff, turning to clamber onto Eddie’s lap, glaring at him as your hands dig into his shoulders, “I hate you so much.”

Eddie grins at you, and you drop your head to his chest, snuggling further into him when he wraps his arms around you. You grumble against his chest, turning your head to speak, “You’re making it so hard.” You complain.

You feel the rumble of Eddie’s voice in his chest as he hums, “Hm?”

Eddie shifts beneath you, and you sigh, turning your head up to nuzzle against the base of his throat. Your teeth drag across his skin, red lines left in their wake before you let your tongue coast up his pulsing vein, mouth kissing and suckling at what you can reach— and Eddie whimpers.

“You know…It’s past midnight.”

“Fffuck–”

Eddie’s dead.

He’s gone. Six feet under. In the next life, body turned back to dust, never coming back, dead. This must be the seventh circle of heaven— is that a thing? Or is that only hell?

Either way, Eddie’s on an entirely different plane of heaven as you press your body against his, knees tightening around his waist as he pulls you close and smears his lips against yours. He can feel the heat of your core through his pants, and his hips have a mind of their own when they buck up into you.

Your fingers are blind and eager when they wriggle through the tight space between you and Eddie, but it sends shivers up Eddie’s spine when you drag your nails down the soft skin of his lower pelvis.

Eddie’s lips part against yours, and he’s licking into your mouth, tongue flicking at your top lip as you shakily moan. “What happened to no sex tonight?” He lowly teases. His hands sink beneath your shit, squeezing at your hips and guiding the roll of your hips.

“Shut up, Eddie.” You whine, fingertips digging into his shoulders when he rubs against your covered clit. Eddie smiles, watching as your face twists in pleasure, and his chest nearly bursts because you’re so fucking pretty.

“You want me?” He asks.

Your lips twitch into a smile, and your hands slide down his arms to rest over his wrists that flex as they work you back and forth over his crotch. “Yeah,” You breathe, tipping your head down to hover your lips over Eddie’s, “I do. I want you, Eddie.”

Eddie’s tongue runs over his lips, and he catches your bottom lip, and you lick out to catch his tongue before pressing your lips together. Eddie uses one hand to cup your face, “You’re not curious where my dick’s been while we were apart?” He teases.

And if you weren’t practically humping Eddie right now and thinking straight, you probably would’ve choked Eddie out or something— but you only mewl and grind down harder. “Not funny.”

Eddie hums, fingers dancing across the band of your panties before dipping past the barrier. He feels like a pirate who’s finally found the hidden treasure, eyes squeezing shut as he tries to ground himself because, Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking wet.

You breathlessly laugh, hips wriggling, your pussy eager for more. “Been beating it with my fist for the last six months, so. Just want you to know— it’s only you, baby.”

You mewl, leaning forward to press your forehead against Eddie’s as you grind against him, shivering when he finally sinks a finger into you, drawing out to circle your clit with sticky arousal before sinking back in with two fingers.

You’re sharing each breath, taking each other in and out; Eddie watches with low eyes as your face twists in pleasure.

“Take it off,” He grumbles, “Take your shirt off.”

You’re moving like it’s second nature. Shaky hands reaching down to loop around the loose shirt, dragging it up and over your body— and Eddie’s head tips back with a groan. “Jesus fuck,” He curses, one hand busy working you as the other reaches down to palm your breast, “When did you take your bra off, you fuckin’ minx?”

You whimper against Eddie’s lips when he kisses you, the force of his eagerness pushing you back. Eddie keeps pressing you back, shuffling and moving around so he can press you down onto your back and hover over you. “Wanna taste you. Let me taste you.” He begs.

You shake your head, lips messily smearing against his, “No. No, you said—” god, Eddie can’t stop fucking kissing you, “You said you’ll let me have you next time, Eds.” You whine.

Fuck, you’re so fucking cute. You’re a goddamn dream pouting up at Eddie, grinding against his fingers as he ticks them up against your walls. “Yeah? You want me?” Eddie breathlessly asks. Your lips are pouty and swollen as you nod, “Already told you I did.” You say.

It takes everything in Eddie to pull away from you, and he thinks he’s gonna marry you when you reach out for him. Thinks he wants to just whisk you away and live on the side of a secluded mountain or some shit. Thinks he wants you to be the mother of his kids when you smile up at him as he rises to his feet, gazing down at you over the apple of his cheeks as he removes his jeans. You’re so pretty, hair spread out beneath you, tits on full display, tummy fluttering with each drag and push of your breaths. You’re lightly dragging the tip of your finger down your stomach, a teasing glint in your eyes as Eddie throws his hair into the shittest bun known to man, and fuck, you’re dipping your hand between your thighs.

Yeah. This is heaven, and you’re god.

Eddie thinks he’ll spend the rest of his life on his knees worshipping you.

Eddie’s body is warm when he crawls back over you, his body now bare, save for the chains that dangle from his neck. One cross, one guitar pick, one pentagram. They’re cold when they drag up the valley of your chest, and your body perks up with chills.

You slink your arms around Eddie’s shoulders, titling your head up to kiss him as your fingers curl into his messily tied hair. “Give me what I want, Eds.” You softly say against his lips. “Fuck my mouth, please.”

Eddie curses, rutting his cock against the inside of your thigh, and he nods, “Yeah. Fuck. Okay, yeah. Just lay here and look pretty, baby.”

The lasting effects of the three blunts you’d shared with Eddie are swirling through your body, and you feel like you’re on cloud nine as Eddie straddles your hips. He’s the prettiest sight to ever reach your eyes, toned arms, and chest working in tandem as he reaches down to wrap a fist around his cock— and god; you forgot how pretty his cock was. The tip is ruddy and flushed, and your core twists when he angles himself up, and you see the piercing beneath his tip. You definitely hadn’t forgotten about that little detail these past months.

Eddie’s chest is rising and falling quickly and stray pieces of hair cling to his lips when he licks them. You watch with wide, eager eyes as Eddie strokes himself, ringed fingers running against the soft skin of his shaft, pretty hisses curling through his teeth when he thumbs the slit of his tip.

“Lucky you’re cute.”

Eddie’s then shuffling and moving around so you’re both comfortably positioned as he kneels over your face, pretty cock glistening above your lips. You open your mouth and let your tongue hang out, ready for Eddie to feed his cock to you, and he chuckles, tapping his swollen tip against your tongue before dragging it to tease you.

It’s good. It’s so good. The taste of him, the feel of him, the pretty noises he makes. You can feel the cold barbell dragging across your tongue with each slow thrust he gives you, and you can’t wait to feel it inside you again. You’ve been dreaming about it for weeks on end now.

He pulls out with a slick pop, tapping his tip against your lips as he hums, “Ready? Gonna give you what you want now.”

You’ve never nodded so fast in your life.

He’s thrusting in and out of your mouth at a mind-numbing and thigh-clenching rate for just under five minutes before he starts to break. You can feel it in the stutter of his hips, the twitch of his cock on your tongue, the shuddered moans and grunts. You reach up to drag your nails down the soft skin of his stomach, and Eddie whimpers for the second time, and you think it might be your favorite sound— you want more.

He’s pulling out with a curse, squeezing at his tip, and you’re such a fucking tease; you lean forward to kitten lick at his aching tip and hum when he hisses. He shuffles back just enough to lean forward and press a messy kiss to your lips, humming at the taste of himself on your tongue.

“Fuck me, Eddie. Please. Want it so bad it hurts.”

“Jesus fuck— turn around.”

You’re shaking, and Eddie’s touch feels like fire as he helps you flip over to lean on all fours. His hands coast up your back and into your hair, and you push your body back into him, ass pressing against his wet cock as you moan when his fingers curl into your hair.

His other hand smooths over your ass, heavily slapping it once before gripping the warm skin as he speaks beside your ear, “Wanna fuck your ass one day, hm? Gonna let me? Say you’ll let me.” “Oh my god,” You roll your eyes with a smile, tipping your head to the side when Eddie kisses your neck before nipping at your ear. You can feel the curve of his smile against your skin, and it makes your chest flutter as he pulls you up to press your back against his chest.

He’s reaching down between you to grasp his cock and paint it against your wet cunt, and you lose your breath. “Come on. Say you’ll let me fuck your pretty ass.” He practically begs.

You moan when he slips his head in, teasing you with what he knows you want. Your head rolls back to rest against his shoulder, and he hums, slinking his other hand up to cup your throat as he continues teasing himself in and out of your pussy.

You smile, lazy and high and blissed out, “No.”

Eddie groans at that, fingers tightening around your throat as he sinks in deeper. “Not even a finger?”

You push your fingers through his hair, his curly strands nothing but a tangled mess within his hair tie. Your legs tremble as you wriggle back into him, but your voice is steady as you speak, “Fuck me first, and maybe I’ll think about it.”

Eddie takes that as a challenge, apparently, because next thing you know, he’s slamming into you and pressing in to the fucking hilt— all big and pierced and toe curling to the point where your moans turn flat, and all you can do is lace your fingers through his that rest on your hip and hold on for dear fucking life.

He’s pressing you face-first into the carpet, making sure your cheek rests against the couch pillow that had been thrown aside earlier. His fingers are clenched around yours, digging into your hip as you whine and moan into his floor, sobbing out his name with each groundbreaking thrust he gives you.

It’s all-consuming; the way Eddie’s fucking you, the filthy words slipping from his mouth, the lingering effects of weed— god, you feel like an exploding star.

Supernova shit or something like that.

Eddie’s cursing and spilling dirty words of encouragement when you come, leaning over to press his chest against your back and coo into your ear.

“Such a good girl for me.”

“Keep squeezing me like that, baby. You’re so good.”

“Y’sound so pretty when you’re coming on my cock.”

You’re breathless and quivering, and a pitiful whine slips from you when Eddie pulls out, but you can feel him as he wraps his hand around his cock and finishes off, pretty moans pressed into the skin on the back of your neck. The feeling of his sticky release dripping onto your ass makes you want to go at it again already.

He’s peppering kisses across your neck and shoulders, and your body slumps onto the ground in exhaustion, but you smile when he presses his lips to yours.

“So, was that good enough? Have I been granted access to the holy grail?”

You glare at Eddie from where his chin is hooked over your shoulder. He raises a suggestive eyebrow, and you huff. “I’ll tell you what,” You start, shifting and purposely rubbing your ass back against his sensitive cock, smiling when he hisses.

“Make up for the last six months first, and I might be able to cut you a deal.”

“Now you’re just stringing me along.”

You hum, “Oh, like you did with me some months ago?”

Eddie pauses at that, eyes narrowing at you, and you think— fuck, maybe that was too soon. But then a smile cracks across his face, “Touché.”

He sighs and sits up, peeling himself from your sticky skin before gently patting your hip. “Ass up, baby. Got a lot of making up to do, and we’re on a tight schedule.”

After all, that’s the price of falling for a rockstar, isn’t it?

————

the end.

————

a/n: HOLY SHIT GUYS

if you've made it to the end of this long-winded (and incredibly late, I'm so sorry) ending to this story i can not thank you enough. these two have been so fun to write and i don't plan to leave them completely in the dust so they're not gone forever, but thank you so much to everyone who read and shared and commented. this story has allowed me to meet the most beautiful, kind, funny, and loving people I've ever had the pleasure of talking to and that will be my biggest takeaway from this journey🥹

the biggest thank yous to my pretty mutuals who have been here the whole way, ilysm and want to shrink you guys and put you in my pocket <3

anyway, i'll shut up now, i hope i was able to do these two justice with their ending!! i love and appreciate all kinds of feedback, and as always, thank you for reading, ily <3

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cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @ye0nvibezzn @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2

@daddyhetfield @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly @nabiiturner @catherinnn

@mossiswriting @kellsck @joannamuns9n @siriuslysmoking @mysteris-things @amazingori @honey-eyed-munson @saintlike78 @eddieslooneymoonie @alexa4040 @yujyujj

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clotpoledestiel · 3 years ago

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You know what is such a great line in music that I don’t think gets talked about enough? The line from “The Drug in Me is You” by Falling in Reverse when Ronnie sings, “Everywhere I go I drag this coffin, just in case…” Like, godDAMN that is a good line…

#shit got me fucked up #falling in reverse #the drug in me is you #everywhere i go i drag this coffin just in case #listen to the reimagined version #that shit hits way harder #shit slaps #i can’t believe im actually meant to be here #i lost my goddamn mind #it happens all the time

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underafullmoon3 · 1 year ago

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I heard a knock upon my door the other day

I opened it to find death staring in my face

The feel of mortal stalking still reverberates

Everywhere I go I drag this coffin just in case

"The Drug in me is You" -Falling in Reverse

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leda-x · 4 years ago

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Hello! I just finished A Snapping Sound and absolutely loved it, it was so so good! I just had a quick question about how Danny ultimately passed since I'm a bit confused-

Did he get caught somehow during the second escape and then after some time Vlad did the same to him as the others? Or was it accidental death in his escape? I thought his escape plan was quite clever, I'm wondering how he got found and how he died exactly 😭

Thank you!

Hey I wrote this whole thing out... somewhere... lemme find it...

Danny hadn’t seen the sky in aeons. Time was no longer marked by sunrise and sunset. Days were marked by when his tormentor entered the basement and when he left. Danny obsessively picked the routine apart, unraveling it, replaying it over and over for a way to exploit it. He had nothing else to do except log the details of his captivity.

When he’s about to leave he stomps three times to knock the dirt from his shoes.

He takes the steps two at a time when he descends, one at a time when he ascends.

After he leaves, I have approximately seven hours until he comes back. Seven hours to escape, give or take thirty minutes of error, seeing as I counted the seconds, during five different ‘nights’, then averaged them.

Of course, his captor caught onto that pretty quickly. After Danny’s first botched escape attempt the man was careful to randomize his routine in such a way that Danny was left in a constant state of disorientation. He was kept cuffed for what felt like days on end, then, without any reasoning, he was uncuffed. He no longer could tell when one ‘day’ bled into another, as his captor spent different segments of time in the basement, ranging everywhere from four hours, down to ten minutes. He also began to sedate Danny at odd intervals, for no apparent reason other than to create blurry gaps in his memory and keep him from planning. Danny had quieted and his tormentor had taken his complacency as defeat instead of what it really was: endurance. Somewhere along the way, Danny had learned that, in order to survive long enough to escape, he had to be a smart captive. A smart captive meant sacrificing any semblance of pride, playing nice, and waiting. It meant begging when asked to beg, agreeing to anything and everything, and otherwise pretending you didn’t exist, because only bad things happened when you were noticed.

At this point, keeping track of time became pointless. So did the idea of planning an elaborate escape attempt. If he couldn’t predict what his tormentor would do, with any small amount of certainty, he had no constants to plan around. And while he knew he could pick the lock to his room, he also knew that he stood no chance of getting out of the basement anymore. At least, not on his own. The man had sealed that exit thoroughly.

So, Danny waited patiently and remained vigilant for a random stroke of luck.

And then, miraculously, one day an opportunity presented itself in the form of a dead body.

In the dark, Danny squinted and was able to make out a four-sided wooden coffin. The lid was ajar, a dark hand waving out.

Danny pried the lid off and stared down, stunned. Even though he knew before he even opened the lid, it wasn’t any less unnerving to see the dead eyes staring up at him.

Danny swallowed thickly. He reached underneath the corpse’s armpits, hoisting it up. The thing’s head lolled, nuzzling his, giving Danny an intense whiff of rot and an expanse of clammy flesh. Danny turned his head away and gagged. He tried not to think about how this could be him if this prison break didn’t work.

It took forever to drag the body across the basement into his room. It took another forever to wrestle it into his clothing. The body’s arms were rubbery, heavy, and swollen.

Danny panted, dizzy. In his emaciated state this whole endeavor was like a marathon. Adrenaline beat his ears like a war drum and leant him strength he did not possess. With a grunt, he rolled the dead thing onto his bed and covered it with his thin blanket.

He had no idea how long this doppelganger would fool his jailor. If the man entered his room today he would notice, but the man rarely came into his room.

Danny breathed shallowly. He felt more awake now than he had felt in long time. More alive. Clear-headed. Focused. Hope dared to balloon in his chest. This could work.

He tugged on the clone’s clothes. It had been wearing nothing but a white shirt and a pair of overly baggy pants. After yanking the shirt on, Danny searched through the basement and found a surgical knife. He tucked it into the waistline, the cool metal pressing against the small of his back. He found several large bottles of whatever his captor used before he performed surgeries on his other victims— some kind of weird orange-yellow-brown liquid— and he smeared it across his every inch of exposed skin.

Then, with one last glance at the near pitch-black basement, Danny lowered himself into the coffin and readjusted the lid so it was half covering him. He tried to remember how the corpse had been lying. Any missed detail, and he’d fail. His captor wasn’t stupid.

Danny raised his right hand and draped it over the edge of the casket, limp.

He stayed that way for an indefinite amount of time. Hours. Days. He couldn’t tell. His shoulders, the back of his head, his heels, and his tailbone pounded at the hard surface of the box. He lost feeling completely in his upraised arm. His eyes stared blankly ahead, scanning, knowing that three inches from his nose was a wooden lid, although the box was so dark he couldn’t make it out.

His eyes drooped and his adrenaline faded away, yet his body never relaxed. As much as his body screamed for it, he couldn’t allow sleep. Not tonight.

A mechanical door whirred and someone descended into the lab. Heavy, slow, plodding footsteps— Skulker’s.

Danny’s breath caught.

Skulker wasted no time. He lumbered over to the casket where Danny willed himself to steady. The fact that his hand hand gone numb was a blessing. It meant it had no chance of trembling and giving him away.

Danny didn’t dare flinch or breathe. He kept his mouth agape and prayed Skulker wouldn’t look too hard. Skulker wasn’t much for noticing details. Desperate to not think about what was going on right now, Danny tried to remember his mother’s voice, her scent, the feeling of his head tucked underneath her chin as she held him close and safe. Any residual tension flooded out of his limbs.

Skulker grabbed his right hand and flung it back into the box. Danny’s leadened arm flopped lifelessly and hit the wall of the casket with a dull thud that he didn’t feel. Above him, the lid of the coffin was put back in place.

A grating noise, then a series of booms. Danny couldn’t help but flinch as the coffin jolted painfully against his sore body. The back of his skull complained. His eyeballs rattled in their sockets.

Then, he was being moved. How? He wasn’t sure.

Danny dared to open his eyes— seeing nothing but pitch black. Danny couldn’t twist or sit upright. He could barely move his head two inches up before hitting it on the lid. His eyes flitted around the slats to try and see through, but it was impossible.

A slow triumphant smirk spread across his lips. He was maybe the only person ever that was looking forward to being buried alive.

Skulker grunted as he heaved the box somewhere... outside. Freezing cold air whistled through the cracks, easily biting through Danny’s shirt. He fought a shiver and wondered what month it was. The last time he had attempted escape, it had been spring. Surely it hadn’t been more than a few months since then?

Skulker let out a gruff noise and Danny felt weightlessness as the box got tossed. With a jolt of fear, his fingers tried to clamp down to something, but there was nothing to hold onto. The casket hit hard and tumbled. Danny’s head smacked into the side of the box. He blinked blood rapidly out of his left eye. Absently, Danny prayed that Skulker didn’t look back in the box again. The blood would be a dead giveaway. Also, in this light, Danny doubted Skulker would mistake him again.

There was a yip and a rustle. The sound of tinkling chains. Danny only had his imagination to sort out what was going on.

Skulker let out a whistle and at least three dogs answered with howls, before the box jolted and Danny was gliding. He turned his head to the side and ran the back of his hand along the wood grain. Three inches of cedar plank separated him from the sun. Tears welled in his eyes, unbidden. It had felt like ages since he had last seen the sky. And here he was, so close, yet still unable to see it.

Danny forced back the tears. This wasn’t the time to get overly emotional or cocky. He wasn’t out of the woods yet. He pricked his ears, trying to dissect each noise in case it would prove important later, should this escape work. He could hear a constant shhhhhhh of whatever contraption he was on. A chain jingled, taut. There were several dogs. He could hear them panting and snuffling nearby. Far ahead he could hear Skulker plodding along. Branches snapped and leaves rustled. Images of the forest behind the mansion came to mind.

If they were in that forest, they had cut over to a deeper, denser, part. Their progress was slower and Skulker cursed more and more underneath his breath. Danny could hear that the man was fatigued. His footsteps grew slower and heavier.

They came to a halt. The dogs scampered away. Danny heard a door close and the sound of a fire crackling.

Danny closed his eyes again and went limp. He was patient. He could wait. But, Skulker never came back and neither did the dogs. Danny got the feeling that he had been forgotten. He didn’t know how long that would last. His feet and palms began to sweat, itch. This could be the last chance he had before Skulker buried the coffin.

Danny shifted, wiggling until he could get his arms free from where they were pinned up against the sides of the box. He used his knees and his palms to push against the lid.

It wouldn’t budge.

Danny’s heart hammered in his throat. He used the top of his head. He strained and let out a soft noise of frustration. Did Skulker already nail the lid on? Danny hadn’t planned on that. His mind raced, trying to come up with another way out, should that be the case. He had a knife, maybe he could… He shook his head, refocused, and tried again.

This time the lid popped and cracked open.

Danny froze and held his breath, listening intently for any sign that Skulker had heard that. When nothing happened, he pushed the lid all the way off and sat up.

Fresh air ruffled his hair, and filled his lungs, making him dizzy and euphoric. Sunlight warmed his cheeks. Snowflakes fell against his nose and nestled atop his head. Danny heaved a few breaths and looked upwards. Giddiness nearly overcame him as he took in the sky.

Blue. Sun. Fluffy clouds lazily rolling along a dazzling crystalline sky. Peace.

Danny stared around at all the snow, bewildered. Panic simmered. He had missed out on a way larger chunk of time than he originally thought. He had been taken in August. His first escape attempt had been in spring. There was at least two feet of snow blanketing the ground, which meant it was December, if not February. That meant… over a year.

Over a year of lost time.

Danny pushed that thought aside and peered down to find the casket which was resting atop a sled— a sled which sat next to a log cabin. Danny looked directly into a window. Inside, a healthy fireplace, several animal heads mounted to the wall, and Skulker crouched above the fire. He had his back to the window, poking a bit at the embers. The hunter straightened and turned.

Danny let his spine go limp and fell backwards into the casket. His eyes darted about at the sky wildly in fear. He realized it didn’t matter if Skulker saw him or not— he had to get out of this coffin.

Keeping his head ducked, Danny crawled out and fell to the ground. Cold seeped through his shirt and pants, soaking them. Blood stained the snow underneath his head. Danny’s fingers curled desperately into the snow, feeling it crunch against his palm.

He backed away from the sled, sliding along his butt, until his back hit the cabin wall. He edged away from the front door. Keeping his gaze fixated on the window, Danny used his hands to feel his way behind him. His palm hit something warm and wet and he flinched.

An English Setter stared at him, butting its head into Danny’s palm. It’s fur was mangy and a speckled brown. It was large and brutish, with thick corded muscle.

Danny froze.

The dog tilted its head and growled.

“Shh,” Danny breathed. He caught sight of a leather collar with a name tag. “Shh, Cujo.”

Its head the other direction, ears perked in recognition.

“That’s your name, right?” Danny soothed, whispering. “Listen, Cujo. Let’s keep this our little secret, ok?” He got onto his feet, slowly. His height frightened the dog, who skittered back a few paces and yipped, loud.

The cabin door flew open.

Danny ran.

His bare feet ached as he tore his way through the snow. With each stride his leg disappeared several inches. The snow was icy and sharp. Danny didn’t care. His gaze was laser-focused on a thick clump of trees. He had no idea where he was, but he figured that he could find some hiding spots in the thicker parts of the forest.

From behind him, as if through a tunnel, Danny heard a yell. He phased it all out of his mind and kept running. All that mattered was running as fast as he could into that treeline. Even when he reached it, he knew he wasn’t safe, he kept running. Skulker was coming up behind him. Danny could hear the man’s panting.

Danny darted through the branches, hopping over a log. He trained all his focus on not tripping.

Skulker stampeded right behind him. Almost on top of him now.

Adrenaline pounded through his head. He urged his legs to run faster, but they had done nothing for over a year. His muscles quivered with disuse. Out of desperation, he yanked at a branch so it would fling backwards. Behind him, Skulker gave a pained grunt then tackled him from behind with the brute force of an avalanche.

The breath got knocked from his lungs. His face pressed into the snow. It filled his mouth and his nose. He choked. Panic stabbed at him. His hands scrambled for purchase and found a branch. Getting a good grip on it, he whipped it behind him.

Skulker grabbed that arm and twisted it behind his back, forcing him to let go of the bludgeon. Danny’s arm screamed in protest.

“Stop struggling,” Skulker grunted. He pressed his knee into the back of Danny’s head, forcing his face a few more inches into the snow until it completely covered his ears.

Danny screamed, but it was muffled. He twisted and kicked backwards as hard as he could. His bare heel collided with a crunch. Dimly, Danny was aware of pain in his foot.

Skulker howled and tumbled off of him.

Danny crawled a few paces away before getting back on his feet. He swayed.

Skulker got ahold of his neck and slammed him against a tree.

“Hnnr—” Danny choked. Snow rattled off the branches overhead, dumping onto the pair of them. It clung to his hair and eyelashes. He blinked furiously up at Skulker’s leering face.

Skulker’s eyes narrowed. He lifted Danny higher until his bare feet kicked nothing but air and the back of the tree.

Danny gritted his teeth and lashed out, hitting Skulker’s arms, his hands clawing, ripping. His struggles weakened as his vision darkened. Skulker’s tough leather hunting gloves were impossible to scratch through and he was wearing far too many layers. He merely shook Danny by the neck like shaking a rubber chicken.

Danny’s head flopped as the fight got sucked out of him. For a minute he forgot. He allowed himself to give up. “Do it,” he mouthed, lips trembling.

Skulker paused. “What?”

"Do it,” Danny mouthed again.

Skulker’s faced dawned in understanding. He nodded. His grip tightened until Danny felt like his neck would snap in half.

Danny’s eyelashes fluttered. The brilliant blue sky faded into black. His hands fell to his sides, still. He felt an overwhelming calm swoop down over him. It swaddled him in a blanket of peace. Then, something dug into the small of his back. A wiggling thread loosened, a voice screamed that he couldn’t just fall noiselessly into the dark. If he died, Skulker would put him in that box and bury him somewhere no one would ever find him, just like he had done with all the others.

Danny couldn’t swallow that. Couldn’t stomach it. He wouldn’t allow them to get away with it.

Still limp at his sides, his hands suddenly twitched. As if in a dream, he reached behind his back and found the handle of a knife. His fingers could barely grasp it, but he dredged up enough voracity to whip the knife out and bury it deep into Skulker’s shoulder. The knife shifted through muscle and bit into bone.

Skulker dropped him and stumbled backwards with a surprised howl. He no longer looked like he wanted to entertain the idea of putting Danny out of his misery peacefully.

Danny collapsed at the base of the tree, clawing at his throat, gasping for air. Still, Danny refused for this to be the end. He had waited, planned, and been patient. This was the closest he had been to freedom. He couldn’t die and he couldn’t go back. He would not go back into that basement. He was so fucking close, he would fucking murder Skulker if he had to.

Desperation flooded him beyond reason. Danny dug around at the base of the tree, through the snow, for anything he could use. He found a rock.

Skulker grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him backwards, roughly. His back lit with fire. Danny screamed and twisted, smashing the rock as hard as he could into Skulker’s head. The man toppled. Danny struck him again, twice, three times, as hard as he possibly could. Suddenly— silence.

Danny panted. His chest heaved. He dropped the bloodied rock into the snow and stared. With his toe, he poked Skulker’s shoulder. Little crimson bubbles fizzed in the corner of Skulker’s mouth— proof he was still breathing.

Danny tried to stand up and fell. His back screamed. He reached behind and found the handle of the knife protruding from his somewhere to the left of his mid-spine. Without thinking, he ripped it out, shoving his face into the snow to stifle his shout. Pain became nausea. He stared at the knife accusingly, before tucking it back into his waistline.

He tried to stand again. His legs wobbled and his back seized, paralyzing him. The world spun on it’s axis and Danny found himself sprawled on the snow again, puffing little agonized breathes of air.

Walking was out of the question, then.

Danny dragged himself away from Skulker’s unconscious body, away from the cabin. He used the snow as a cushion and pulled his body along. The pace didn’t matter. Any progress was ok.

After what felt like a half hour, Danny peered back and saw the red trail he was leaving behind. He laughed, giddy from blood loss. His feet and hands were completely numb. His teeth chattered and his entire body shivered. Even if he got away from the mansion, it wouldn’t be long before he died from hypothermia or blood loss, or both. His laughing grew hysteric. Over a year in captivity, only to die from snow.

He took a second to lean against a tree and dry heave. Nothing came up. His laughs turned into sobs. He laughed and cried and bled all over the tree until he regained enough steel to find his feet again. Now that he couldn’t really feel most of his body, it was somehow easier.

He wrapped his arms around its trunk to keep upright and pressed his face into its bark. He bit into it. The earthy taste of dirt was beautiful. He inhaled as deeply as he could. Then, he closed his eyes, centered himself, and listened.

Birds chirped merrily overhead.

Trees rustled.

Then, a horn honked.

Danny’s head swiveled towards the noise. With borrowed strength, Danny first walked towards that sound, then ran with an unsteady, limping gait.

A deep bark from a dog echoed from behind him. No doubt one of Skulker’s, which meant it was a purebred hunting dog. Loyal. It had probably seen it’s master and was not happy.

Danny urged his body to go faster, to be stronger— just for a little while.

That bark grew louder. It turned into a prolonged chilling howl.

Danny broke into a huge clearing the size of a football field. He stumbled to a halt, afraid of being exposed while crossing it. He could hear distant highway noise coming from the other side.

The dog barked again, closer.

No choice. Danny bolted across the clearing. The snow was deeper and harder to traverse. Danny ignored his body yelling at him that his organs were in trouble. He tugged at his limbs like they were fighting him and practically threw one foot in front of the other.

Another howl. Too close. It was too close.

Danny looked back and saw Cujo bounding towards him from across the clearing.

Frantically, he fumbled for his knife. His fingers were blue and unresponsive. The knife fell into snow. Danny was forced to take his eyes off the incoming hunting dog to look down. He scrambled, finally getting it in hand, just in time for Cujo to be upon him.

He got the animal directly in the chest, his arm somehow narrowly missing the creature’s fangs.

The dog yipped and retreated, bounding several feet away to evaluate its wound. It whined and licked at its side. Huge brown eyes turned to Danny reproachfully.

“I’m sorry,” Danny whispered. “I had to.”

The dog growled. Its ears flattened and it crouched, preparing to pounce again.

Danny stumbled back heavily. He clutched the knife close, readying himself. From underneath his feet the earth groaned.

The dog galloped away from Danny towards the treeline, back where it had come from. It’s gait grew unsteady. As it neared the edge of the clearing it lumbered around in circles, before collapsing, dead.

Danny took a step towards the road.

A series of cracking and grinding noises reverberated outwards from underneath his feet. His eyes widened, gaze diving for his feet.

Not a clearing, he thought, right before the ground disappeared and he was submerged in freezing black water.

#Danny Phantom #A Snapping Sound #pure horror here #nothing but horror #TL;DR he drowned #my writing #an excerpt I wrote to understand exactly how Danny died #so I could allude to it the whole time #there are some details here that don't quite match anymore #but yeah

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a-man-for-hire-and-his-archives · 4 years ago

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Black Sails’ Toby Stephens on Captain Flint and the Final Season

Black Sails will return to Starz on January 29, 2017 for its fourth and final season. When we last left the pirates, Captain Flint (Toby Stephens) was beginning the revolution in Nassau and Long John Silver’s (Luke Arnold) star was rising. We recently got a chance to chat with Toby Stephens about the end of the series, what’s coming for Flint and working on this epic show. Check out his thoughts on season four below!

Here is the official synopsis:

The fourth season opens with hundreds of British soldiers dead in a forest… the Royal Navy sails back to England in retreat… the West Indies are now a war zone, and the shores of New Providence Island have never been bloodier. With the help of Eleanor Guthrie, Woodes Rogers transforms Nassau into a fortress without walls, as Captain Flint amasses a fleet of unprecedented strength, hoping to strike the final blow against civilization and reshape the world forever. Meanwhile, from within the island… an insurgency builds, fueled by the legend of its exiled leader, whose name keeps grown men awake at night… the one they call “Long John Silver.”

But as Flint, Silver and their allies are about to learn, the closer civilization comes to defeat, the more desperately and destructively it will fight back. Oaths will be shattered, fortunes will change hands, and amidst the chaos, only one thing remains certain: it has never been more dangerous to call oneself a pirate.

xxxx

Legion of Leia: I was in South Africa on the set when you were filming that crazy storm sequence in season three. What sort of set pieces are we going to see this time around?

Toby Stephens: It’s huge. There’s loads of stuff that will keep fans extremely happy, I’m sure.

Legion of Leia: Flint had a crazy few seasons. I’m curious about whether or not you think his destiny was set with Miranda’s (Louise Barnes) death.

Toby Stephens: I think yes, it kind of compounded the way he was going. I mean, I think before Miranda died, maybe people could reason him out of certain choices, but I think when Miranda dies, that’s the last nail in the coffin in terms of him going after England in this relentless way. And also, I would say, the other thing that compounds it is finding an ally in Silver. The fact that they become partners in this enterprise, it seems that Flint can only function when he has somebody who he’s allied with or is an alter-ego for him. Someone who can balance him and he can work through. So that is both good for him and bad for him in a way.

Legion of Leia: In the last episode, there is that conversation between Flint and Silver where they’re like, oh, we’re friends. But bad things happen to Flint’s friends. We know a bit about where this is going to go because of “Treasure Island.” What’s ahead for Flint here?

Toby Stephens: Yeah, well, I think it’s really the end game for the whole series, and we know it’s a tragedy because there was no great revolution in the pirate world. There was no emancipation of the pirates and the slaves. It didn’t happen, so why did it not happen and what happens to Flint at the end of that, when his dreams are crushed? What happens to Silver and him? How does that play out? And also, how does the Silver that we know become the eponymous Long John Silver of “Treasure Island?” How does that happen? And I think season four brilliantly leads us to a point where where, it’s a very satisfying ending, but also leaves you to fill in the gaps between there and “Treasure Island.” You kind of know who these people are at the end of this, but it’s a kind of really cool thing to allow people to do that themselves rather than go, look, this is what happens, all the way to the end. It leaves you to do some work yourself.

Legion of Leia: I love that. This show has sent me to Wikipedia more often than you would believe!

Toby Stephens: [laughs] I know!

Legion of Leia: How much research do you do for a role like this, or do you rely mostly on the script?

Toby Stephens: Do you know what? It’s a combination of laziness and there is method to it. I just go with what is in the script. I mean, like you, I’ll go to Wikipedia if I need to know something, if I don’t know what something is. But whether or not it has real historic context, for me is immaterial because I’m working in a fictive world. It’s a fictive world with dashes here or there of historic fact. A pinch here, a pinch there, and I need to work in that world, so it’s better if I stick there.

Legion of Leia: I did love seeing how much was actually built on the set and how many little touches were there, historical and fictive, both.

Toby Stephens: Yeah, what I love is the detail in terms of everybody else, the props, etc. There was a lot of care taken about what would have been there, what wouldn’t have been there, creating that texture of the world, where you can believe it.

Legion of Leia: When we were there, we were hearing stories of bugs in the walls!

Toby Stephens: We were always having problems with–there were these crickets. And they would get in. We would call them “sea crickets!” [laughs] You would be in a take and you would hear [makes cricket noises]. We’re supposed to be in the middle of something scene! [laughs] Or there would be birds up in the rigging going “cheep, cheep!” And you just go, oh my God, there’s another hour in ADR!

Legion of Leia: Did you have to do a ton of ADR?

Toby Stephens: Oh yeah! I have become the master of ADR. I breeze it now! I kind of like it because sometimes you can actually improve things. You know? There was a scene I did in the first season where it was with Gates (Mark Ryan), and it was a storm, and we’re having this conversation and we’re having a drink, and we’re on the set–it was the beginning when they used to gimbal the set. It was so noisy! There was water coming in, dripping everywhere. They wanted it to look authentic. Because it was quite a stressful set to be on [laughs], for some reason my [in a high-pitched voice] my voice was up here! I watched it–I mean, I had to loop it because there was so much noise there, but I thought, I sound like an hysteric! I managed to re-voice the whole thing and kind of couch it where Flint speaks normally. That’s a case in point where you can really improve on things.

Legion of Leia: I can’t imagine trying to speak clearly during some of those storm scenes!

Toby Stephens: I mean, it was mad! This job was amazing because I loved the people and I loved working on it, but there are aspects that I won’t miss. It was totally exhausting. By the end of this last season, I was literally hanging in rags, because it makes such demands on you. You’ve got enormous amounts of dialogue and enormous amounts of acting to do, and then at the same time, you’ve got all of this physical stuff to do, and it’s day in and day out. And you’re in the costumes and you’re in baking heat, and it was long, long days. No other job I would be able to do, in terms of acting–I mean, I’m not working in a coal mine–but there is no other job I could do that would come near this. It sort of made me immune to–it made everything else seem like a breeze. It was so arduous. And some of the stuff we did in season four, some of the stuff that I did towards the end, it was really difficult. Really difficult.

Legion of Leia: Having seen that storm scene and the tanks of water being dumped on you and the ship moving back and forth and the yelling–it was crazy!

Toby Stephens: Yeah, it was also the length of time it went on for. Because we also did two weeks straight, and then we kept on coming back for pickups because it was so particular. And also, it’s part of the reason why I’m so proud of the show, is that they had such exacting standards for what they wanted. They’d cut it together and realize they were missing bits, or that they could get bits better, but it was a drag. You had to get back on this deck and they were spraying you with stuff and they had the engines on. It was brutal. But you look at the end result and you go, that will stand. In ten years time, it will look amazing.

Legion of Leia: What are you going to miss the most, now that the show is over?

Toby Stephens: I think I’ll miss all the people that I worked with. One of the things about the job is, you create these very intense and very fun relationships with people, creative relationships with people, very creative, and then they dissolve and move on. I’ll miss that, and working with such great writers. John [Steinberg], Robert [Levine] and Dan [Shotz], you know, just brilliant writing, fantastic showrunners. They were so good and we had a really intense relationship. I’ll miss that.

Legion of Leia: What do you have coming up next?

Toby Stephens: So I just started doing the reinvention of Lost In Space for Netflix, so I literally just started working for them. I’m really excited for that. It’s a brilliant segue from one genre to another. [laughs] It’s a really fun reinvention of it. It’s really clever, and I’m really excited about it. I think this will be fun in terms of, it’s servicing fans, making a show for now.

Legion of Leia: Also, different costumes. Maybe not so much wool in the heat!

Toby Stephens: I think it will be differently uncomfortable. [laughs]

Legion of Leia: Those costumes were insane and it was so hot while you were filming.

Toby Stephens: Yeah, it was tough, and also in the brutal sun all day long. Standing on ships. It was killer. And the boots. I remember always complaining. I bitched and moaned about my boots all the time. [laughs] These things are killing me! Can you imagine these pirates going, “Jeeze, man! Couldn’t we have flip flops? Could we have a pair of thongs? Why do we have to wear these things?” [laughs]

Legion of Leia: I feel like pirates should have worn fewer clothes!

Toby Stephens: Yeah! [laughs] But apparently they didn’t. They didn’t, actually. The whole thing of pirates wearing all of that is baloney. They actually–they had very light shirts and stuff. Apparently they just didn’t wear much.

Legion of Leia: That was for fancy pirates.

Toby Stephens: And also, it was just for show. Also, what Black Sails kind of gets into is, a lot of it was p.r. It was p.r. by the English, because they wanted to demonize these people, but it was also their own p.r.–like Blackbeard having fuses on his beard and stuff like that. It was all to make people scared.

Legion of Leia: You can see that even with what Billy [Tom Hopper] is doing at the end of season three with Silver.

Toby Stephens: Yeah, and here’s a really fun thing. You get to the end of this season, and you take a screenshot of characters at the end of this season and you compare them to screenshots from the beginning of season one and they’re just like–the journey that they’ve been on, and the toll it’s taken on them is really cool. I mean, Luke just looks terrible at the end of it! And he was so beautiful at the beginning! [laughs] And the same with Tom Hopper who plays Billy Bones. You see he’s headed towards the Billy Bones of “Treasure Island.”

Legion of Leia: I wanted to ask you about Flint and Billy. There is such a tense relationship there with so much history. How is that going to shift this season?

Toby Stephens: Yeah, it really comes to a head. It comes to blows. They’re not going to be able to–it’s really interesting the way Billy goes, I think, in this season. It’s been a long time coming.

Legion of Leia: Do you think Flint has any of the idealism left that he had at the beginning?

Toby Stephens: Well, what’s really interesting at the end of it, one realizes how personal this is for Flint. And that, actually, it’s not really some altruistic scheme that he has to liberate everybody. He’s playing out his own psychodrama in reality. And how demented–how he will not stop. How it will go on and on and on. And somebody has to stop that. You know, it’s a tragedy because we know that there was no–it’s got to end somewhere. It’s not going to be good.

Legion of Leia: I do have to ask you about working with your family! [Toby’s wife Anna-Louise Plowman plays Mrs. Hudson and his brother Chris Larkin joined the cast as a Redcoat this season]

Toby Stephens: Yeah! It was wonderful, actually! It was so wonderful because I hadn’t spent so much time with my brother for a while. And was really great hanging out with him. And it was a bit strange. We had one scene where we were given direction to look at each other across–we had no lines together, but we had to look at each other across this town square. And I suddenly realized, this is really difficult because nobody on Earth knows me as well as my brother does. And to try and pretend with one another is just impossible! There cannot be any artifice! [laughs] So both of us, it was hopeless! I said, you look at my chest and I’ll look at your forehead. [laughs] It’s impossible! You can’t hide!

Are you guys excited for season four? Let us know in the comments! Black Sails will return to Starz on January 29, 2017.

sources: Legion of Leia (unfortunately I can't put link because it wasn't secured)

#toby stephens #interview #luke arnold #black sails

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shirtlesssammy · 4 years ago

Text

4x11: Family Remains

Then:

Castiel, angel of the lord, gripped Dean tight and raised him from perdition. Also, Dean finally unloaded his Hell trauma to Sam.

Now:

Drunken man watches television one night. The lights flicker and his door won’t open. Another door opens to reveal a very ragged girl. A ghost! Long story short: the Home Sweet Home embroidery is going to need a lot of Oxy to get back to fighting shape.

Dean, meanwhile, is taking a page out of the old Sam Winchester-Barrel-Through-The-Trauma playbook and is working cases non-stop. He is not going to talk about Hell. Nope, those feelings are buried real deep again. Anyway, Dean’s found a ghost case in Nebraska.

Sam and Dean head to the now vacant house to check things out. Something behind the walls watches their inspection. The EMF meter is all over the place, but there are power lines. They find a doll head in the closet. Routine bullshit.

Their inspection is interrupted by a family and all their moving gear. Looks like the place was sold. We‘ve got Mom Susan and Dad Brian, Little Brother Danny, Buster the Dog, Petulant Sister Kate, and Cool Uncle Ted.

Sam and Dean approach the family as inspectors. There’s asbestos in the walls and a gas leak. Sorry family, you can’t move in today. The family wants to stay so Dean threatens a fine or jail. The family gives them one night.

Sam and Dean hit the hunt in Fed suits. They interview the woman that found the body of Mr. Gibson.

She cleaned his house for five years but didn’t know him too well. He was private. He had some family trauma: wife died in childbirth and his daughter hanged herself. The cleaner has some pictures of the daughter and gives them to Sam and Dean. She also notes that while there was never any weird light flickering activity, she did hear rustling in the walls. Rats. She never saw them though.

The brothers don’t think the ghost is the mother or daughter so they decide they need to head back to the house to investigate further.

The family, breaking the county inspectors’ orders, decides to move in anyway. Ooohh, a little gas leak and asbestos never hurt anyone, ooohhhHH.

That night (where are Sam and Dean?), the son is busy playing video games, and avoiding unpacking. A ball rolls from his bedroom closet and he looks in to investigate. “It’s okay,” he tells the shadows. Then he plays a fun game of catch with the closet.

Sam and Dean finally arrive, and see the family has moved in. Crap.

Uncle Ted calls the parents into the living room. ‘GO’ is written in large red letters on the wall. How welcoming!

Brian blames Danny instantly. Danny denies doing it, but the parents double down on the blame game. Danny insists that “the girl in the walls did it.” Uh, Danny, not helping your case. Danny CAN’T believe they don’t believe him when they send him to his room (lol, not much of a punishment, he just came from his room). Also, Andy would believe him, so there!

Kate is busy sulking in her bedroom when she starts petting Buster off screen. So, OF COURSE, it’s not the dog. He wanders in shortly after. Obligatory scream session activated.

The daughter tells the parents there’s a ghost in the house. There’s a knock at the door and Sam and Dean bust in after hearing her screams. They tell the family there’s a ghost in the house. Kate is vindicated!

Danny keeps talking about the Wall Girl. Dude, give it up. Buster escapes outside. The lights cut out just as Dean is yelling that they’re in danger. Then they hear whimpering outside. They rush out, and well, I’ll just direct you to this little website for the next scene. There’s blood all over the ground and a note written in blood: “too late”.

Sam and Dean insist the family leave. They race to their cars and Dean finds the ghost did a real number on Baby. All tires are slashed and weapons are gone.

Hell Hath No Fury Like Dean Winchester when His Car’s Been Messed With:

(And for the record, I mistyped ‘car’ with ‘cas’. Still would work.)

Kate sees the ghost in the field.

Sam and Dean can’t figure out how it’s outside. Now stuck on the property, they direct everyone back inside, and into a salt circle. They tell the family that this is what they do. The kid thinks it’s pretty cool that they’re like Scooby-Doo (Dean thinks he’s better --and we know now that his ghost hunting is just different.)

Sam gets confirmation that the ghost is the daughter. He tells the family that she killed herself in the house. Uncle Ted’s better than all this, man, and starts to leave. Dean stops him with the threat of a bullet hole (I’m probably not reading too much into how violent Dean seems in this episode. They’re just people but he’s threatening to shoot the guy? I feel like we’re dealing with the aftermath of Hell for Dean and he’s still there at times.)

Ted decides to continue to needle the strangers in their home who threatened to shoot him. Something creaks in the house and a girl enters the room.

Dean counsels them to stay calm and stay in the salt circle. The girl smirks and...crosses the salt circle, knife in hand. “She’s not a ghost,” Dean realizes, and engages in a one-sided knife battle with her. “Humans,” Dean spits out later in disgust as they try to wrap their heads around creepy, murderous Nell.

Everyone gathers except...Danny. He’s missing! I experience some serious second-hand parent agony. Dean orders Susan and Kate to barricade themselves in the shed while the menfolk (pfft) search for Danny.

Dean and Ted pop open a loose section of wall, releasing the strong smell of rotting flesh. “You smell that?” Ted asks. “Every day,” Dean replies and I die a little inside for him.

Dean squeezes in between the extremely spacious wall cavities and finds A HOLE. He must go in THE HOLE.

Downstairs, there are remnants of dead animals everywhere. But above Ted, something lurks. This is what you get for being the wisecracking brother. Ted eats a knife and bleeds out next to Dean.

For SOMEBODY HOLD MY TRAUMATIZED BOY Science:

Dean reunites with the family and reveals that Ted died. “I shouldn’t have left him alone,” Dean murmurs, STILL IN HIS GUILT COFFIN. Brian tries to reassure his wife that Danny’s been spared by the crazy murder girl living in their house. They reference some oblique, recent family trauma, which Brian later reveals was the death of their eldest son in a car crash. Dean promises to get Danny back “if it’s the last godforsaken thing I do.” GUH.

“Why do you care so much?” Brian asks. Oh, sweet sunshine. It’ll take many seasons to unpack that question.

Sam pulls Dean aside. He’s been reading Rebecca’s diary (as he is wont to do) and discovered that the murder girl was likely her daughter and that Rebecca was raped by her father. “Oh, gross,” Dean neatly summarizes it. “Humans, man.”

Sam thinks that her life being like “hell” is no excuse. “Like you know what Hell’s like.” Dean accuses. OH MY GOD. Also, just give Sam some time, Dean Bean. Urg.

Danny wakes up, bound in the basement. Creepy girl climbs out of one of her holes. She brought her new best friend a fresh rat! When Danny implies (by screaming) that he isn’t hungry, she eats the rat.

Dean insists on hurling himself down a dumbwaiter shaft. He vowed to save Danny. He NEEDS to save Danny!

While Dean’s following a trail of guns to find Danny, murder girl is waging an assault on the shed. Untying Danny, Dean learns almost too late that the girl has an accomplice...her brother.

DOUBLE UGH

Sam and Brian haul Danny to safety while Dean engages in fisticuffs with the brother. Dean shoots the crazed brother in the fight. Meanwhile, Brian drags the girl from the shed and kills her. He confronts his wife and daughter, holding a bloody knife. Erm. Awkward.

The next morning, they fix tires (and Sam methodically arranges the contents of the Impala’s trunk).

The family affirms their unity (and their shared trauma) and sends Dean and Sam back onto the road.

They park under an overpass to eat. Except...Dean sets his burger down. WHEN A DOG DOESN’T EAT AMIRITE? Dean reveals his empathy for the murder siblings. “Lifelong torture” will do that to a person.

Sam tries to assure him. “They were barely human.” Oh sunshine, wrong choice of words. Dean informs Sam that he was worse than them. (“Humans, man,” I hiss to myself.) Dean confesses that he tortured for the “sheer pleasure” of it. “I tortured souls and I liked it. All those years. All that pain. Finally getting to deal some out yourself.” He’ll never fill the hole in his soul, no matter how many people he saves. Excuse me while I think about the series end and allow the dark hole of a murder house to swallow me up.

My Favorite Murder Quotes:

You can’t run forever

The girl in the walls did it

What could possibly go wrong in the country?

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #dean winchester #sam winchester #spn 4x11 #family remains #supernatural season 4

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fallinginreversesideblog · 1 month ago

Note

Everywhere I go I drag this coffin just in case!

I heard a knock apon my door the other day

i opened it to find death staring in my face

#real post #fir

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summonerscenarios · 5 years ago

Note

[1] OKAY anon talking about Mc running off before they find out they're innocent. Okay Mc just wanted to cool down so they skip class and leave campus for the day for self care. BUT THEN they get caught up in app conflict bs like they do when game events happen bc its mc. Maybe helping out the outlaws or somethin- Mc sends the summoner group chat the fyi, that they'll be back. But three days later and the teachers are fucking panicking bc of the situation and they don't know shit AND now the-

OKAY ONCE AGAIN I’M GOING A LIL OFF ON THIS BECAUSE THIS IDEA IS JUST 👌👌👌👌👌 so as you can probably tell in some parts I definitely rambled lmao. I do hope I do it justice~!

And for anyone wondering the original request can be found here!

---------------------

Things had gotten too much. You were so fed up with all the stares, all the sympathetic glances burning holes into the back of your head and all of the whispered words of gossip and speculation like you were some hot topic or reckless wild child who couldn’t be trusted. Everyone was acting like you couldn’t see or hear them, which somehow just made it feel even worse; it was driving you up the wall, even with all of your friends standing by your side the moment you were accused it was hard to ignore everything that came with it. You were pissed, hurt, but the betrayal stung the worst out of everything that had happened so far - you’d put your complete trust in your teachers, looking up to them oh so confident that they’d believe and protect you should the need ever arise, because you genuinely believed that they saw the best in you, even in spite of your faults and encounter track record. You guess that just wasn’t the case though, as that encounter in the staff room still makes you feel sick to your stomach, thinking about the way those same teachers you trusted looked at you with pity and still deemed you guilty of something you so viciously denied.

They still look at you with pity - Mr. Triton and Mr. Jinn don’t even try to hide it, maybe not even realizing that you’re looking at their expressions when they’d tried to start up a conversation with you. It frustrates you, because it feels like they have no right to pity you when they were the ones there in that meeting and they didn’t try to vouch for you. They didn’t even listen when you told them you were innocent! Surely they have enough faith in you to believe in you, right?!...right? Whatever the case the whole situation has you dreading coming into school everyday, and as the days pass you’re more and more convinced that things would be better if you could just get out of going at all - there’s plenty of other things you could be doing where you wouldn’t have eyes watching your every move, nor the weight that comes with them.

You don’t know if it’s luck or sheer irony that the teacher responsible for picking you up from class is late one day, but it’s the final nail in the coffin before you decide ‘fuck it, I’m out of here’ and skip class. For the past few days you’d felt pinned, suffocated with eyes constantly on you from the moment you step onto school grounds to the moment you’re out of sight, which makes it oddly freeing to be able to run around without those disapproving gazes - but you don’t want to waste time and risk getting caught, not when you’re so close to skipping and being free for at least a single day. Consequences be damned, you don’t care anymore. Even though everything is still weighing heavy on your mind stepping out of the grounds feels...liberating, and you only dare a glance back once you’re out of the school gates, catching sight of students still in their classroom completely oblivious that you’ve disappeared from their ranks. Telling the teachers where you were going was the last thing on your mind, but you at least have the foresight to send a message to the Summoner’s group chat before you turn off your phone and bolt from the premises, letting them know that you were going out for a day to clear your head.

It was only supposed to be that one day, you swear, but things have never really had a penchant for going your way. If you had stayed just a few hours longer you’d have learned about the person clearing your name; you’d have seen the teachers’ mad dash through the school when they’d realized you weren’t in any of your classes; you’d have watched the outroar as the Summoner’s learned of the truth in your stead. But you’d missed it all, and spent the day wandering anywhere and everywhere instead - wherever you could go where you wouldn’t risk running into any faculty you went, stewing in thoughts and trying to forget just about everything that had happened for as long as you could before you were inevitably brought back to the school.

Only that didn’t happen; you were able to crash at a friend’s house on the first night, called in a favor with a nearby guild for a place to sleep on the second night, and the hours in between were spent either wandering or getting dragged into fights - how ironic that even now you couldn’t avoid getting involved in other people’s problems even if you tried - it was seriously getting old. In the meantime, the Summoners are the only ones who get word about what’s happening, but even then you keep it vague so that you don’t worry them, not to mention you don’t want them to needlessly lie if they get questioned by the teachers concerning your whereabouts. Which is exactly what happens; the teachers are all worrying themselves sick by the time the third day rolls around without hide or hair of you, and it’s clear that there’s regrets voer what had transpired over the whole week. Jinn’s rolling your last encounter over and over in his head, wondering if there was something that he could have said that would have made you decide to stay put - maybe letting you know you had someone on your side - but the what-ifs won’t change the fact that you left. Triton’s still cursing how long it took for the news of your innocence to come to life, the thought of how you must have felt being looked at with such suspicion making guilt crawl up his spine and settle in his mind. And Mononobe doesn’t stop looking for you for a second - even if you scream at him or scold him or ignore him completely he needs to see that you’re okay and doesn’t want your last conversation with him being left on such bad terms. One thing is for certain though; they need to find you, and soon.

Things finally come to a head on the third day. Usually during after school hours you’d try to make yourself scarce in the area, but this time you weren’t so lucky. All too quickly you’re dragged into a spat with someone itching to boost their ego with an app battle, and though it was clear they’re all bark and no bite it’s tedious and you want it over with quickly. You just wish it was that simple, as the moment you ready your sacred artifact, watching your opponents prep to set up a battle zone, two figures block your view, standing almost protectively in front of you as they activate their respective sacred artifacts. You don’t even have to see them to recognize them - Mr. Triton and Mr. Jinn are both loud as they declare their presence, stepping into the fight in your stead. Before this week you would have laughed seeing the two of them standing side by side talking big about protecting you; but now? You feel your heart sink into your stomach - this could not have been the worse time to see them.

Mercifully, the battle staves off the inevitable conversation for a little while longer, as the three of you have to focus back on the fight at hand; your teachers are skilled, or at least driven by something to end the battle, and you aren’t willing to play around just to avoid what comes next, so it isn’t long before the person who challenged you and his friends to all back off, releasing the battle zone as they flee back into the crowds to nurse their mental wounds. You almost want to disappear into those crowds with them before you can get caught again, however the moment you turn you’re immediately accosted by Jinn and Triton, the two teachers fighting over each other to get the most concerned word in - where have you been? Why did you run away? Are you hurt?! Their concern is sincere, you can tell as much from their faces since hiding their emotions isn’t exactly their strong suit. And right over their shoulders you can see Mr. Mononobe too as he approaches to join the three of you, having not been involved in the battle zone for obvious reasons; but the sight of all three of them in the same place reminds you so much of that day you’d been accused and the emotions burn in your throat like poison.

There’s venom laced in your tone as you ask them why they stepped in, effectively silencing the two teachers as they share a brief glance and answer simultaneously. Hearing them talk about teachers protecting their students you have to bite your tongue because surely they know how hypocritical that sounds, right? But they keep talking, rambling on about making sure you’re safe and protecting you when you need it and it’s like a trigger, sending everything frothing to the surface. You laugh, bitter and sarcastic before asking if they’re serious - they've gotta be kidding - but you don’t even give them a chance to respond before your words claw their way out into the open and you just about lose it.

You don’t care about mincing your words as you practically bare your soul, everything that’s been welling up finally boiling over. You yell and scream and shout until your voice is hoarse because you’re so pissed that they have the audacity to talk about protecting you when they couldn’t even protect you from those accusations, from all those people thinking you destroyed something just because you could. They have no fucking right to even consider themselves your protectors when they looked at you with those same eyes full of pity, now turned to guilt in light of the truth that had come far too late, and you’re gonna make damn well that they know that you aren’t someone to be pitied - you’re vindicated, seething, and feeling so betrayed by the few adults that you were so sure that you could trust. But that trust was shattered - and that’s exactly why you left, because why would you want to be surrounded by people who couldn’t trust you?!

The emotion behind your voice is raw, and Jinn, Triton and even Mononobe seem to be at a loss for words - no words of reassurance, no advice, no words of wisdom - and that just twisted the knife in deeper when you’re met with no resistance whatsoever. You honestly don’t know what you expected - some kind of fight or rebuttal would justify these feelings that you have - but when you receive nothing of the sort in response you lose the wind in your sails and you choke on your shouts. Your words fail you, turning into sputtering and sharp gasps when you finally buckle and sink to your knees, wiping uselessly at your face as your eyes burn with the sting of tears - a feeling you’ve gotten so familiar with this past week it makes you loathe the feeling. If you could you’d still be yelling, but you just can’t bring yourself to do it - you’re tired, whittled down to your bare bones and you don’t even have the energy to be angry or care that you’re having what you’re pretty sure is a breakdown that wasn’t in the safety of your dorm room. You want to just curl up and disappear - just for a few days, that would be okay, right? Just until you can feel something in your chest that didn’t hurt like hell. The Summoners would understand, you think, they always did - they’d trusted you at least, when it felt like most didn’t. Why could they have been the ones to swoop in and help you? It’s a silly thought, but you feel like you at least wouldn’t be bawling like you are now if it had been them instead of the teachers; you can just imagine how they must be watching you cry in front of them.

Damn, this whole thing really was just a mess....

A hand touches your arm and another touches your back - you’d kick away if you could, but it’s like the touch saps you of all of your energy. Those hands have no right to be so warm, no right to feel so comforting, and yet they are and you want to cry all over again. You have no idea which teacher is the one who helps you to your feet as all three surround you with growing concern once your sobs filter off into broken sniffles, gaze torn between screwing shut to avoid looking at any of their faces and staring right at them so they can see all the emotions in your eyes that your words have failed to convey. When they talk about bringing you somewhere safe, back to the dorms or to the school to discuss everything that had happened, you’re in the right mind to run away all over again, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Instead, you allow those hands on your back and shoulder and arm to guide your steps, ignoring the concern and grave expressions that the teachers share as the reality of what’s just transpired sets in. You don’t know what’s coming next, but you honestly don’t think you care anymore - all you can think about is how tired you are of everything, and this was apparently the last straw that you could handle.

#mechanicaltrickster #housamo #housamo imagine #housamo headcanon #headcanons #imagines #tokyo afterschool summoners #mr triton #triton #housamo triton #mr jinn #jinn #housamo jinn #mr mononobe #kyouma mononobe #kyoma mononobe #housamo mononobe #request #ask

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elenamegan14 · 5 years ago

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Twisted Wonderland: Headcanons for Dorm Haunted Houses Pt.6 - Scarabia

MASTERLIST

Part 5

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THE ATTRACTION:

You wanna see one dorm that goes all out this year? Look no further. Scarabia spared no expenses on making their haunted house looking so EXTRA fine.

I mean, we’re talking about real gold, jewels, and high definition special effects. Oh, and yeah, Jamil and Kalim made a lot of effort to make those bodies look REAL.

Scarabia’s haunted house is an Arabian “Cave of Wonders” that leads to a wondrous treasure fault. Legend said it housed a wishing lamp that grants wishes upon its rightful owner. Many had attempted to get the fabled lamp, but those who entered would never come out again. All those who came perished by the traps… or by its guardian itself.

Merchandises were also made - they got the usual keychains, t-shirts, and even plushies of Kalim and Jamil in their Haunted House outfit. Most of Kalim’s dolls have nearly sold out, which irritates Jamil a bit.

They got an auction to get the replica of the wishing lamp - it was sold for 993,000 madols.

When the guests and students first enter the house, what greets them is the sight of a gigantic blue tiger. Jamil and Kalim made it so that the giant tiger head’s eyes could move around and made an illusion with the sand that it could move around as well. They can see blood and corpses littering across the cave entrance. A booming, intimidating voice rang through the gates...

“ONLY ONE MAY ENTER, THE DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH.”

As they entered through the dark and wet cave, the guests and students could see the horrible fates of the tomb robbers. Some are pinned by spikes, some are squashed by rocks and some even got gobbled up by bugs, mummies, and even the monstrous stone statues of snake guardians itself.

At times, they were scared off by mummies coming out of their coffins, enraged stone statues, and snake guardians slithering out of every hole on the walls, popping as they pleased. MC’s group were wary of every crack and holes and jumpy at every noise.

They even have an interactive game inside, where they can get small prizes if they win. The game is to put all the jewels evenly within the scales guarded by monstrous stone lizards and snakes. If they won, they got the prize. If not… well, even if it’s not real, they will fire blue flames at the people. It cost 5 madols to play the game.

Kalim. Sweet precious sunshine Kalim is dressed as a genie. A cute turban rested on top of his head. “Isn't this cool?! I heard that the Sorcerer of the Sand used to have a genie who does his bidding, so I decided to become the genie itself!” Oh, KALIM.

Like, Kalim is VERY popular with the kids and girls. Why wouldn’t he? Compared to the other scary actors, Kalim is very friendly, immediately drops his character when it gets too intense for the audience, and even helps a lost, crying kid to his parents back. WHAT A SWEETIE.

Yet, he was scolded by Jamil to get back to his post and character, “There is a reason WHY we have a scream counter!”

Of course, Jamil IS the NAGA. And he was scarily GORGEOUS. Scaly red, black, and gold scales adorned his face, his arms, and his chest. Gold pieces of jewelry with rainbow-colored gems adorned every single bit of his body, making him impossibly alluring. A red veil closed half of the bottom of his face. MC swears that their heart skipped a beat when they saw him - to the point that they almost got distracted when Jamil hypnotized them.

It’s not only MC. Almost everyone with a naga-fetish kink immediately got lured by Jamil. They don’t care - LET THE SCALEY BASTARD CRUSH THEM WITH THEIR TAIL.

Ah, but Jamil did not also want to seduce them. The purpose of a haunted house is to SCARE the pants off them, so once he managed to get his victims into his arms… he will reveal his “true” form by extending his jaw like a snake.

Jamil bragged that he might scare most of the kids… but he got more girls (and a few boys) approaching him than Kalim did. Even if they worked together, Jamil’s competitive streak with Kalim never ends. //sighs

He’s also responsible for scaring most of the guests and students. Jamil will jump out of nowhere, hissing in close-up and sometimes touching people straight on their shoulders then slithers off. It was creepy.

But as they went deeper to the caves, they noticed that it became more gold and glittery. The guests then went through the treasure vault, where mountains of gold coins, jewels, and even expensive diamonds littered all across the floors and walls.

Oh, and all those things were real too. (“Kalim, when I said to fill in with gold coins, I didn’t mean for it to be real. People are going to steal it.”)

Of course, some of the opportunistic guests and students tried to steal it.

Which is why Jamil made counter magic so that any guest who tried to touch it would receive a mild electric shock, and for all the poor schmuck students to trigger the traps if they touched the treasure to protect El-Asim's fortune.

They even put a sign that says: “Warning! Please do not touch it! You’ll be sorry!”

The main centerpiece of Scarabia’s Haunted House is the back chamber where the lamp is hosted. On the center of a beautiful gazebo filled with calm blue colors, lies a golden lamp encrusted with colorful jewels placed inside a plush, velvet pillow. Next to it, there was a snake statue holding a bloody, giant ruby. DO NOT TOUCH IT AT ALL COST.

Otherwise, Jamil will slither right at you.

Jamil is there, with a giant hourglass, hissing and scaring everyone yet making all the ‘monster lovers’ feel flustered.

Sometimes he can be seen eating a screaming scare actor, his jaws are wide and splattered with blood, guts everywhere it’s just sausage and ketchup.

Once the hourglass reached the end, the cave was lit up with red lights and flames came bursting out almost near the guests and students.

Poor MC got a part of their hair singed when they almost came too close.

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THE MISSION:

Kalim, the guide, is more than happy enough to relay the mission: inside this “Cave of Wonders” is a lamp, which is guarded by the vicious vizier-turned-naga, who greedily tried to covet the lamp for himself only to fall to its curse instead. The charm is inside the lamp, and students must survive the cave of wonders to get to the center of the haunted dorm itself.

To get to the lamp chamber, the students must solve one of the “interactive games” set up for them to get a piece of the puzzle that would open the chamber itself. It was guarded by stone snakes that would eliminate you if you failed to complete it within a limited time. They were given three tries before the statues threw them outside to enter again.

The students were told that they can’t touch any treasures except for the charm itself. If they do… well, there’s no guarantee they can get out of the cave itself “alive”.

Also, Kalim warned them that if they ever encountered a naga, do not look into their eyes or they’ll hypnotize you to walk straight into their jail or a trap.

They have set up the atmosphere to be glamorous - all jewels and stuff, but when a student foolishly falls into the temptation of stealing a bit of real jewelry, he is immediately caught in a trap: getting pinned on the wall with knives, swords, etc. Don’t worry, he lives.

He did beg to be let go though.

The weeping did not help. Everyone almost felt sorry for him, but… THE CHARMS!

Actually, that guy served as an example. The students never thought that they WILL become part of the attraction for the guests if they fail.

Soon after, more people are falling into traps - turns out, touching the treasures isn’t the only way to set it off - Kalim and Jamil make sure that there are hidden buttons and puzzles that would trigger each different trap.

So now there are many students who are crushed by oversized styrofoam boulders, stuck inside a mummy casket with a terrifying mummy corpse prop, falls into a trap door, nearly impaled by spikes (they have no idea how Ace got into one, but HE’S FINE), being put to sleep by darts loaded with chloroform, buried underneath a glass case filled with black bugs (Jamil’s idea), and many more that you can think of.

During the commotion, one of the charms from MC fell off. A student saw it on the ground, shining brightly. He grinned deviously, fingers twiddling to reach the charm.

“Heh, heh! Today is my lucky day-” He got vibe-checked by the styrofoam/wood Pendulum of Doom(™) out of nowhere.

As if it’s not enough, Jamil appears out of nowhere to scare the victims before dragging them off course, putting them inside the “Cage of Shame”.

It’s just a jailbox filled with failed students being put outside the haunted house, becoming an attraction for the passersby. They have to be content being laughed at than to go through the haunted house again.

MC’s group found an interactive game. It took them at least two tries to get it - Ace, Deuce, and Grimm are responsible for most of the failures, the dumbasses - but Jack unexpectedly solved it. Everyone’s jaws had dropped.

“What? This is just a simple scale game. I learned it from my sibling’s video game before.” Jack retorted. It was a children’s math education game.

After they escaped from more traps, avoid TOUCHING THE GOLD AND JEWELS (“Would it kill you to lay off from the treasure?!” Epel slapped Deuce, Ace and Grimm’s hands so hard that it throbbed) and put the puzzle to open the chamber, they finally saw the lamp.

Here’s another thing that the guide told them: to get the lamp, they have to watch out from triggering more traps - the platforms are fragile, so there’s a chance they could fall into the water if they do not tread the platforms carefully. Also, please avoid the GIANT RUBY as it will trigger the Naga Guardian to be summoned in place.

Epel, being athletic, volunteered to get the lamp.

He managed to avoid the pitfalls, the stones, and even falling spikes. He managed to reach the lamp and get it… except for one problem.

See, that giant Ruby is too much to bear. People want it - in fact, it’s so shiny and red… Ace is drooling. Counting how much he can sell on his head.

But Grimm, being Grimm, falls into one final temptation. That giant jewel on the snake statue - SO UNBEARINGLY BLOOD RED, AND HUGE, AND ASKING TO BE TOUCHED- congrats Grimm, you’ve become Abu.

Jamil came out immediately, all scaly and terrifying. He grabbed the screaming Grimm like a ragdoll.

“INFIDELSSSSSS!!!!” Jamil hissed, “You have touched the forbidden treasure! Come as you may rescue your little friend, but you’ll never see the light of the day... again!”

The Guardian Naga then puts Grimm in a freaking large hourglass, stating that once the last sand falls, they will all be eliminated.

Where the hell did they get a giant hourglass? Who knows, they have a flying Racoon to save. GDI, Grimm.

The only way to save Grimm is to steal the key on Jamil’s neck that would open a hatch for Grimm to escape. Ace, Epel, and Jack are in charge of attacking and distracting Jamil. Meanwhile, Deuce will deal with getting the key. MC is told to stay the sidelines to guard ALL the charms (“You’re important to us, kantokusei!” Deuce yelled, avoiding Jamil’s tail. It made MC blushed a bit.)

As Deuce was about to reach the key, Jamil noticed his presence and threw the poor guy right at the attacking trio like a pinball bowling. Jamil then slithered towards the frightened MC.

Now you see here, Jamil felt he had gone EXTRA mile to make himself monstrously appealing to MC. He does have an interest in them after they defied him when he last Overblotted, so he took this chance to - ahem! - “impress them”.

“It’s just you and me, Dorm Leader...” Jamil coaxed, using his hypnotizing Unique Magic again, grabbing MC’s chin. “Just relax and… trussssssst in me.” Jamil’s eye seemed to glow as he coaxed MC into his arms.

MC struggled hard, but they also took this chance to grab a hold of Jamil’s key and pushed him away, much to his surprise.

They throw the key to the recording Ace, getting Grimm out of the hourglass hatch with barely a moment to spare. Afterward, they immediately book it, leaving behind a grumbled Jamil…

...but not before he gave a final hiss and a lick to MC. They got flustered - the rest of the group weren’t happy. Ace gave Jamil a middle finger before he left.

So they got a few close calls with the trap, Ace immediately went after Grimm to try and struggle the furball with Grimm only defending himself that the giant ruby calls out to him - don’t tell me you guys don’t feel it too! As usual, these idiots denied it.

Kalim went after them, congratulating on completing the challenge and getting the charm. "Did you guys like it??? Did you have fun?? =D"

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the best question because it’s their turn trying to get Kalim for putting the REAL jewels and GOLD COINS as a set trap. What was he thinking?

And then Epel gets depressed. He sighs a lot as they went onto the next haunted house. They only realized it a while later after they got curious at Epel’s sudden demeanor - Epel came from Pomefiore dorm. AND THEIR HAUNTED HOUSE IS NEXT.

Just like Epel’s immediate annoyance, the smell of aromatic perfumes, iron, and sounds of fangirl squealing echoed as the Pomefiore’s Haunted Dorm looms ahead...

Part 7

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ninjettey · 4 years ago

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Boys and Aliens ch 3(Final)

Sometime in the early afternoon Stitch woke to someone lifting Laddie out of his bed. Stitch was still half asleep when he saw Michael carrying Star out of the cave. He could hear voices further inside the cave that did not belong to his four friends. Stitch climbed out of bed and followed the voices into a tunnel. He could see three boys climb out the end of the tunnel, two had sharp, wooden sticks, and the other just carried a flashlight.

Stitch crawled up the wall of the tunnel before the exit and then climbed up the wall to watch the boys from above. He looked around the cavern and saw his friends hanging upside down, asleep. Stitch knew then his friends were not as human as they appeared and why he didn’t feel the need to attack them like other humans. Stitch listened to the boys’ voices as he crawled closer to them.

“I thought they’d be in coffins.”

“That’s exactly what this cave is,” Edgar replied. “One great big coffin.”

Edgar and Alan both began to climb one of the jagged rock walls.

“We’ve found them at their most vulnerable,” Edgar called back.

“Easy pickings,” Alan added.

“Hey!” Sam yelled at them from down below. “You just have to kill the leader!”

“How do we know which one he is?” Edgar replied. “We’ll have to kill them all.”

Alan turned his flashlight on the nearest vampire.

“Yeah,” he called, “we’ll start with the little one first. First come, first staked.”

Stitch has heard enough. He crawled quickly over to his friends as two of the boys climbed closer to Marko. One of the boys was aiming a stake at Marko’s chest right where his heart would be, pulling back to strike, “Goodnight bloodsucker!”

As the boy’s arm is coming down, Stitch leaps away from the wall and into the path of the stake. Stitch had landed onto Marko’s arms that were crossed against his chest. His claws digging into Marko’s jacket sleeves. When the stake connected with Stitch’s fur it snapped like a twig. Growling at the boys before he threw himself into the face of the boy in front of him and started clawing and biting as they fell to the ground. Several gaping wounds in the boy’s chest and face bleed profusely, “Get it off me!” “What is that thing?” Alan yelled as he and Sam tried to pry the creature away from Edgar so they could escape. Stitch was kicked off and hit the wall hard enough to stun him. Alan and Sam picked Edgar up and started crawling back through the tunnel with David on their trail.

The smell of blood woke the vampires. They all opened their eyes to see Stitch fighting with the boys that ran the comic book store and Michael’s little brother. Meaning Michael has betrayed them. They knew he wasn’t meant to be a vampire, and they knew Michael led the wannabe vampire hunters to their cave, their home. David spoke as he dropped from where he was sleeping, “You’re dead meat!” He chased after the boys. David caught Edgar by the ankle and was pulling him back. Sam and Alan held on to Edgar and pulled him into the sunlight causing David to let go when his hand burst into flames. David screamed in pain as his hand burned, letting go of the injured boy and retreating into the dark safety of the cavern.

The three boys, with great effort, climbed out of the cave and up the stairs getting as far from the angry vampires as they could only to find Michael had fallen asleep. Sam and Alan sat Edgar in the middle of the front seat. Sam had no idea how to drive, but he was going to have to if they wanted to escape the vampires.

David returned to the cavern to check on his brothers. He found they were unharmed, mostly. The only injuries any of them had besides his burnt hand was some claw marks on Marko’s arm from Stitch. They were standing around waiting for David, Marko had removed his jacket to check out the puncture wounds in his arm. They were already starting to close up by the time David joined their circle. His burnt hand won’t heal completely until after he has fed.

Stitch had stayed close to the brothers but out of their way. He was furious that someone came and attacked his friends and took Laddie. He was getting ready to leave the cave to track down Laddie, but Paul stopped him. Paul quickly picked up Stitch and hugged him like he was a stuffed animal, “Thank you! You saved us!” Stitch squirmed to get out of the tight hold the vampire had on him. “Paul, put him down,” David ordered as he lit a cigarette.

“We still have a few hours before sundown. Then we’ll go get Laddie, and deal with the Emersons’ and those two punks,” David finished his cigarette and threw the butt down. Stitch looked up to see David staring at him. “We were going to tell you tonight what we are. It seems like plans changed. We’re not exactly human. We are vampires. Creatures of the night, drink blood to survive, and can’t go out into the sun without bursting into flames.” David shows Stitch his slowly healing hand. “The four of us are grateful you showed up.” The other three vampires nodded their heads in agreement. “For now, let’s get some more sleep. Come nightfall, we have a pack member to rescue.” The four vampires jumped back up to their pole they were hanging from and were asleep before Stitch had crawled out of the tunnel.

Stitch found a small alcove inside the main cave that faced the entrance. He curled himself into a ball and fell into a light sleep. Still tired but wanting to stay alert in case the threat showed back up. He will not be losing any of his friends. Stitch may have landed on this planet with the motive to destroy it, but he has quickly grown attached to the strange creatures here. Maybe he could hold off on destroying the planet for a little bit longer.

As the sun was setting, the Emersons’ and Frogs were preparing to fight. They knew they screwed up and the vampires would be hunting them down. They had almost killed one of their own. Sam and Alan were arguing about who was going to babysit Edgar since he was badly hurt. “What the hell was that thing? It almost killed Edgar,” Alan asked a frantically pacing Sam. “I don’t know. Never seen anything like it.” Edgar was coming in and out of consciousness, his face and chest having been bandaged to the best of Alan’s abilities.

Michael was finishing nailing some boards over the windows downstairs. Star had started a fire in the fireplace. She had stayed close to Michael once they woke up. Laddie is hiding under Michael’s bed. Alan had threatened to stake him if he tried to attack them. Laddie was hoping his brothers and Stitch would come get him away from these people. He didn’t want to be human, he liked his new life with his brothers.

When the sun finally set, David and his boys woke for the second time. Flying into the main cave where Stitch was waiting. Marko held out his hand, “We’re flying.” Stitch took his hand and they flew out of the cave and towards the Emerson household. The closer they got the more excited they got. They spotted Michael and Sam running back into the house after retrieving their dog.

They land in a tree outside of the house. David didn’t want to just run in without a plan. That could get them killed. Who knows what is waiting for them inside. “Paul and Marko, you two stay together, watch each other’s backs. Dwayne, you’re with me. Only Laddie matters, everyone else can die for all I care. Stitch, I want to concentrate on finding Laddie,” David told his brothers before they took to the skies again.

Marko and Paul flew over to the attic window and listened for the sounds of heartbeats before breaking into the room. Speeding down the stairs, scaring Alan. The kid was standing in the hall facing the stairs leading to the first floor. Marko snuck up behind him and quickly snapped his neck and drained him. Paul had opened the door to Sam’s room. Edgar was still out cold on Sam’s bed. Paul pounced on him and tore his throat out, getting blood everywhere. Marko had come into the room with Alan’s body, “Two down.” They nodded to each other and left the room only to run into Sam’s dog. Growling, bearing his teeth at the vampires, the dog inched closer ready to attack.

Stitch was crawling along the ceiling sniffing for Laddie. He watched as Paul and Marko encountered the dog. Crawling past the vampires so that he was above the dog, he dropped onto the dog, and they started fighting. Stitch got the upper-hand after bringing his other two arms out. The bottom two arms held the dog while the upper two ripped the dog’s jaw off. The dog dropped dead from the blood loss. Stitch continued to search for Laddie.

Paul and Marko moved through the second floor looking for anyone else. They found Star hiding in a wardrobe inside one of the other bedrooms. She screamed when she came face to demonic face with the blondes. “Hey Star,” Marko laughed like a lunatic before lunging at the girl. He dragged her out of the wardrobe so he and Paul could kill the whiny bitch. They each took an arm and ripped her in two while laughing like little kids playing tug-of-war.

David and Dwayne didn’t even try to sneak in, they just busted down the front door. Michael and Sam were in the living room when the front door crashed open. Sam hid behind the couch with a bow and arrow. He peeked over the top of the couch with the bow ready. Sam aimed for Dwayne. Taking the shot, the arrow pierced Dwayne’s shoulder. All that did was piss Dwayne off more. Dwayne dove for Sam. The boy screamed at the top of his lungs. The vampire laughed as he bit into the boy’s neck. Pulling the arrow out so the wound could heal as he drank the boy dry.

Michael and David were mid-air fighting. Michael thought he had David. They collided into one of the walls decorated with many different animal heads, many of which had antlers. Narrowingly missing a deer head, David pushed Michael away from the wall, flying to the other side of the room. He also was aiming to impale Michael with antlers. David had both hands wrapped around Michael’s throat, squeezing the breath out of him. Michael grasped David’s wrists to pull his hands away. David just squeezed harder and laughed, “You could have lived forever. Instead you brought hunters into my home to kill me and my brothers. Big mistake.” David was done playing with this kid. Moving one of his hands to the back of Michael’s head, and with one final twist the fight was over.

Stitch had found Laddie hiding under a bed. He stuck his head under the bed, “Hi.” “Stitch!” Laddie climbed out from under the bed and hugged the alien. This time he didn’t fight it. The noise from the fighting had died down. Laddie and Stitch cautiously went downstairs and saw the four vampires were still standing. Paul and Marko had rejoined their brothers in the living room.

When they thought the fight was over, Max and Lucy walked into the destroyed living room. Lucy didn’t have time to question what was going on before Max had attacked her, determined to turn her. Max could see his boys had disposed of the young Emerson children, but he still wanted Lucy.

Everyone caught on to what Max was doing. The four of them attacked Max at once. Paul gripped Lucy around the waist and pulled her away from Max, causing Max to rip her throat out. Lucy was dead before she hit the floor. Dwayne, Marko and David were thrown across the room. “You could never follow orders, could you David?!” Max yelled at his first sired son. David got up and lunged for his maker once again. Max caught David by the throat and threw him into Paul and they both flew through the back wall. Dwayne jumped onto Max’s back, hoping to distract him long enough for Marko to stake him. Max was too strong. Both of them were tossed away like ragdolls.

Stitch and Laddie were watching from the stairs. “We got to do something. They’re going to lose,” Laddie cried. David, and Paul had recovered from their falls and were attacking again. Max just laughed as he had them both in headlocks.Paul was able to slip away, leaving Max to grab David with both hands and strangle him. David used his full strength to break one of Max’s wrists to get loose. The other three vampires surrounded Max and David. With their combined efforts, they were able to yank Max’s arm off his body. David tossed the severed limb into the lit fireplace.

Watching the limb burn, Stitch knew how he could help. He jumped to the top of the stair railing unnoticed by the vampires. While Max was screaming in pain from the lost limb, and before the Lost Boys could attack, Stitch leaped from the railing with a growl, the force of the leap destroyed the railing. Max turned to the noise in time to see a blue blur of fur fly at him. The momentum from Stitch’s leap had pushed both the head vampire and Stitch into the fireplace. Fireplace roared with a big explosion of flames. “STITCH!” Laddie yelled for his friend. The flames pull back into the now crumbled fireplace. Max was no more.

Smoke and ash fill the room. Everyone stared into what was left of the mantle. Dwayne had gathered a crying Laddie into his arms. As the smoke settled, some of the stones shifted. They all watched and waited, readying to start the fight once again. Only to be shocked when Stitch climbed out, shaking off the ash. He turned his nose up to the ceiling, and “ACHOO!” The force of his sneeze scooted Stitch across the bare floor. Once the Lost Boys saw Stitch was ok, they started laughing.

Well, all but David. He had to stop and take a deep breath from the overwhelming feeling of becoming the head vampire. The Lost Boys were now as they should be. No overbearing head vampire with allusions of building a family. David and his boys, his brothers liked the way their pack was, with one additional out-of-this-world member. Regaining his composure, David told his pack, “Let’s go home.” Dwayne carrying Laddie, and Stitch riding piggy-back on Marko they flew back to the cave.

Grandpa Emerson was about five minutes too late. He came home to a silent, destroyed, bloody mess. Numbly walking into the kitchen, he pulled a root beer from the second shelf labeled ‘Old Fart’. Twisting the top off and taking a drink, “Damn vampires.”

1095 Years Later

It really took Captain Gantu over a thousand years to find Stitch. He alerted the Grand Councilwoman. Gantu had watched the creature from the shadows, not approaching until the order to do so. When he reported to the Grand Councilwoman that Stitch was hunting dredges of society with a band of creatures of the night, she gave the order to stand down. He observed all six creatures from afar as they disposed of their recent kills. “But Grand Counci--”, Gantu was cut off. “I said stand down. That is an order. It’s been over a thousand years, and from the footage you have sent he is doing that world a service. You are to leave that planet at once,” Grand Councilwoman gave her orders. “Yes, Grand Councilwoman,” Gantu retreated to his ship and left the planet and Stitch behind.

Stitch watched as the Galactic Alliance Police cruiser left the atmosphere from the hidden entrance to their cave. He was free to live for eternity with his family. The five vampires and Stitch had already returned to their hidden cave for the remainder of the night. They never really changed their ways. Party all night, sleep all day. It’s fun to be a Lost Boy. The Boys and their Alien.

The End...

#the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys #marko the lost boys #paul the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #david the lost boys #paul #marko #dwayne #david

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