#my little monster fics

[bjorkshire-pudding]

My name is Valerie, like the Steve Winwood song. Please consider taking the time to read this post before interacting or following.

Note: Real life has been kicking my ass lately, so this blog and my writing sideblog, The Open Door, are both on semi-hiatus/queue.

🔷39 years old 🔷She/Her 🔷Black 🔷Multi-fandom writer

Selfship Art

This art of Grimmjow and me was done by the lovely and talented annypuff (please go check out her other art!).

This art of Suguru and me was done by the lovely and talented @starrnai - please go check out the other selfship art Nai has done!

My goal is to keep my tumblr experience as enjoyable and anxiety-free as possible. To that end, I have found that it is sometimes better for me personally to follow tags instead of specific blogs - so, if you decide to follow and find that I have not followed back, please don't take it personally!

Frequently Used Tags (will be added to accordingly; please feel free to block/filter as you see fit):

🔷tinywoodenrobot fics - my fics 🔷how do people art? - art I like 🔷filed under: blue - me screaming about Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez 🔷filed under: asterisk - Bleach-related things 🔷filed under: my tiny tea man - me screaming about Levi Ackerman 🔷filed under: utsukushiki zankokuna sekai - AOT-related things 🔷filed under: one trek mind - Star Trek-related things 🔷filed under: Akari - JJK-related things 🔷filed under: a galaxy far far away - Star Wars-related things 🔷filed under: val watches k-drama - k-drama-related things 🔷filed under: val writes things - non-fic writing 🔷filed under: flying strawberry - Ichigo being Ichigo 🔷filed under: plus ultra - BNHA/MHA-related things 🔷my queuepid's bow - queued posts 🔷filed under: water for the soul - music I like 🔷fic rec: other peoples' writing that I love

Current work in progress: Magnolia (a JJK Vampire AU - Geto Suguru x Geto Satoru x Original Female Character)

I write for a few different fandoms, including Bleach, Attack on Titan, and the Cybird Ikemen games (though I am largely moving away from writing for otome). My works will always be posted to my AO3, even if they are not posted in full to Tumblr.

My writing sideblog is called The Open Door, and there is where you can find some of my recent fics, both completed and in-progress. Fics will be added to the catalogue there as I organize.

I tend to write long fics with multiple chapters. I also tend to write my fics with Black MCs/OCs. Many of the things I write for my OCs are based on my personal experience. I also write both canon and non-canon pairings and focus mainly on AU writings. Some of my work is NSFW, and it will always be clearly marked as such. If you're a minor, I ask that you not interact - it keeps you safe and me comfortable.

My KoFi

🔷Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan 🔷Bleach 🔷Ikemen Vampire 🔷Ikemen Prince 🔷Ikemen Sengoku 🔷Ikemen Revolution 🔷Ouran High School Host Club 🔷Haikyuu! 🔷Shinya Shokudo | Midnight Diner 🔷Tonari no Kaibutsu-Kun 🔷Pacific Rim

Negativity and hate of any kind are not welcome here; if you decide to interact, please be kind. 😌 Thank you for stopping by!

[howlonomy]

Monster Clover, like this is so awesomecool.

They're such a little beast and it is amazing and please i need more, like written text even i just need the juicy lore and emotional moments that are circling in ur brain.

HAT: RETRIEVED!!

[chaosfairy18]

Sometimes I just need Spot to go batshit insane when beating someone up, be it because of the circumstances or because of something the other one did

Spot going absolutely feral because someone was about to be attacked or already was and got injured

Yes he usually plans and thinks before he acts but sometimes

Sometimes you really don't want to be on the other end of his fists or cane

No I didn't listen to too much six hundred strike and got inspired

[afterthelambs]

Idk how to explain it but the general vibe is like

pre-timeskip: Kagehina

post-timeskip: Hinakage

Basically going to Brazil gave Hinata a confidence boost and becoming an adult made Kageyama go from baby to babygirl

[layzeal]

that scene where lxc is like "wangji why are you still here?" and lwj goes "xiongzhang is here, naturally i am also here" and lxc is like "why don't you go talk to your friend wei-gongzi? :)" makes me believe that in a modern AU lxc would want to go with his friends to the movies but shufu would tell him to take lwj with him, so it's now teenage 3zun trying to have a have a nice hang out while being followed by the most miserable 10 year old you've ever seen

[toxintouch]

I am headcanoning Mhin's monster transformation as being related to their emotions (as in: transformation can be triggered by very strong emotions) SO HARD lately.

It would add an extra layer to Vere constantly trying to piss them off that just ⋆˗ˋˏ Makes Sense ˎˊ˗⋆ to me.

Vere is intrigued by the MC, describing them as "not quite human, not quite monster".

Is it safe to assume that Vere felt similarly intrigued by Mhin? That he picked up on that, smelled it on Mhin when they first met, only to have Mhin stab him on sight? And now Vere is constantly pushing at their raw nerves to try and get a Monstrous reaction out of Mhin... It would add an extra layer to their dynamic that I love to consider.

Alternate theory: The transformation is more werewolf-esque and it's related to something that can be astronomically observed. & that's how Mhin started up their stargazing hobby?? But it's kinda cuter if they just enjoy that for it's own sake, amiright?

P.S. if ur wondering how Vere knows about the emotions trigger he knows bc he can Do That Thing

[tianasficrecs168]

Venom fanfic recs

A black dot • means it's a one-shot

A heart ♡ means it's focused on Sexy times (it's pure filth PWP, or like, a plot focused on getting to the porn part lol)

Wildehack: “Intra-personal negotiation” (Eddie/Venom) • How fucked is that, that a compromise that ended with eating raw shark liver under the Golden Gate Bridge in the dead of night is probably the most interpersonally mature he’s ever been? Intra-personally, Venom corrects, not really paying attention.

Arahir: “Wrapped around your finger” (Eddie/Venom) • Venom goes about love in every wrong way he knows how. Thank god for late night television. “Me. They invited me for dinner,” Eddie insists, trying again to make his hair look some specific way in the mirror. He’s given up and started over three times. It’s a double date. Like on that show. “What—what are you watching that there are double dates? Jesus. I should cancel cable. Make you read a book instead.” No!

Impertinence: “Something Like A Pipe Bomb” (Venom/Eddie) Eddie already had enough problems, what with being a busy reporter with an alien parasite, when he caught one of his neighbors holding a fridge above her head. Now he has twice as many problems, including a kid who won't stop treating him like the big brother she never had and a moody alien parasite. Or: you can totally secretly pine while sharing a brain with someone else, as Venom and Eddie are both determined to prove.

Pepperfield: “That blessed arrangement” (Venom/Eddie) • That’s us, Eddie, Venom says suddenly, with a bizarre amount of intensity. We’re like these two fools. Eddie squints at the screen for a second before he understands. “What, married?” Venom is well aware that they live in a romantic comedy. Eddie isn’t, but he’ll get the picture eventually.

Dezemberzarin: “The no dating policy” (Venom/Eddie) • a two-shot series What’s the point? Eddie glances around to the other people hurrying along the sidewalk, lowers his voice until he’s muttering into the collar of his jacket. “I like sex! I want to have sex again in the future, so you’ll have to find a way to deal with it.” If you say so.

xzombiexkittenx: “Nice to Taste” (Venom/Eddie) • Eddie doesn’t do well when he thinks the symbiote died in the fire. He doesn’t tell Dan that suicide is the reason he’s in this mess in the first place. He didn’t go to the Golden Gate Bridge to throw Anne’s engagement ring into the water, he went there to throw himself but got distracted by Dr. Skirth’s messages and justice against Drake instead.

Tuesday: “Terms of Endearment” (Venom/Eddie) • In which there are accidental pet names, Eddie leaning into being in love with an alien symbiote, and an ill-advised kidnapping. — The first time Eddie called Venom dear, it was automatic. They were shopping, and Eddie bypassed the freezer section to pick up some chocolate first. Venom said, "Don't forget the tater tots." Eddie, well-trained by more than one serious relationship in his life, said, "Yes, dear."

Ottergirl: “Heartthrob” (Venom/Eddie) ♡ • He feels encompassing when Eddie says that, he feels like there's no end to him. All that affection in Eddie's voice and the knowing, knowing he wants to be with Venom, wants to belong to Venom. Eddie calls Venom by a pet name, and Venom likes it. Maybe a little too much.

MercurialTenacity: - “Nightlife” (Venom/Eddie) ♡  • Eddie is soft when he sleeps. During the day he’s wound taut, one thing or another always running through his head and keeping tension in his muscles, but when he’s asleep - oh yes, when he’s asleep his defenses melt away. All the hard edges smooth out, his body goes all loose and pliant, and his mind mellows into the background. Venom loves when Eddie sleeps, and he does it for hours at a time. Sometimes even eight or nine. Nine whole hours, and Venom has its host’s warm body right there to explore.

Redredribbons: “Storms” (Venom/Eddie) • The Symbiote struggles to understand human habits and biorhythms. Especially Eddie's, when his own brain seems intent on sabotaging him.

Stereobone: “No Idea That You’re in Deep” (Venom/Eddie) ♡  • If the last eight months have shown Eddie anything, it's that foresight is not his strong suit.

Surveycorpsjean: - “Lovesick Baby” (Venom/Eddie) Eddie spent his whole life alone in his head. Now he’s not sure he could ever go back. Sometimes, you want things you shouldn't.

[amethyst-crowns]

still thinking of @azrielgreen ‘s Eddie / Little Bit

WIP

[anonymous-dentist]

Okay, important post:

I don’t know when Breaking Dawn will come back.

I’m trying something new and crazy called Avoiding Burnout, and I’m doing that by writing what I want when I want. I’m writing what I think is fun and interesting!

Cause BD has felt kinda like a chore over the past couple of months, and I don’t want it to feel like that! So I’ll only work on it when I actually want to, and chapters will be posted when they’re done

I want to finish this fic, but I need to stop writing it to do that. If that makes sense

It isn’t a dead fic!! It’s just sleeping. Napping, even. Could be back tomorrow or next week or a month from now or on a random Thursday night

Idk, I know it’s what a lot of people follow me for, and I wanted to give them an explanation so they can feel free to unfollow without having to worry about missing BD updates

[patolemus]

wrote 1.3k words today. i'm incredibly proud of myself. i'm also so fucking behind on my assignments

[iztarshi]

I think Phantom Tales of the Night has the most varied monsters I've seen in a manga. Not physically, but in the way they think, so that even the monsters themselves can struggle to understand one another.

Spoilers ahead, because figuring out how these monsters think and what they're doing and even which people are monsters is a lot of the manga's mystery.

You've got Butterfly, very young by monster standards and with his youth extended by his recurrent amnesia, who is born from a collection of lost human souls although he's not human himself. Even the older monsters trying to parent him don't really know what he is or what he should be so their attempts to guide him into "growing up" can hinder him as much as help.

Bone Monk is blunt and practical. He only wants to gather the bones of the dead and make them into pottery, which might seem morbid but seems genuinely to be born of compassion. As Owner puts it he gathers up the broken and discarded.

Spider used to be human and although he thinks differently after hundreds of years he's still human at base.

The Foxes are malicious and careless, gambling for humans in order to steal their skins and lives only to discard them when they get bored. But we also meet a Tanuki who takes the skin of a dead human out of compassion in order to raise her daughter instead of leaving the child an orphan, so Beasts are not always like that.

Sasaki, as a being who can regenerate from a single bone again and again into a half-skeletal man, is probably a true-born monster and was never human at all. But he thinks exactly like a human, and a compassionate and level-headed human at that, which leads to him trying to spend lifetimes among humans. He understands humans the way they'd understand each other, but always feels he's hiding a terrible secret.

Owner, as a formless creature of darkness, is revealed to have probably had good intentions in the end but his approach to problem solving is so alien that that "probably" remains. He only gave himself a face and identity so Sasaki (after one offer to be friends with him made as a tiny bone) would be able to find him again and it remains his nature to be ambiguous. The blurred line between monstrous curiosity, wanting to learn how humans act in circumstances he sets up including cruel ones, and strange ways of helping, which often include letting humans blame him if it would be easier than blaming other humans or themselves, always lingers.

[sunrotdropbrain]

Who wouldn't want to trust this Sun? 🥰

[waitineedaname]

the experience of writing fic for svsss has been absolutely insane so far. I posted a fic less than 24 hours ago and it already has twenty comments. I have been in so many fandoms where you have to BEG to get comments, where you'd be lucky to get more than ten comments and the ratio between hits and kudos/comments/bookmarks was vast, but so far the scum villain fandom has been super responsive! The hits/kudos/comments/bookmarks ratios have been super tight, even on my fics which have all been oneshots under 10k!

And it's not just me! I regularly see fanart for svsss fics, which was a rare sight in a lot of other fandoms I've been in. People reblog minifics that get posts to tumblr and leave tags and replies on them. I've written for a lot of fandoms in my time, and this a shocking amount of fic engagement compared to many other fandoms I've been in!!

I can't help but wonder if it's because of the nature of scum villain itself? Other people have talked about how the story uniquely appeals to writers, and it ultimately is about the relationship between a writer and reader, especially in a fan space. I can't help but wonder if the combination of this being a fandom with a high density of writers and it being a story about engaging with writing encourages a fandom culture that is super engaged with fanfiction!

[skepsiss]

His People - Eddie Munson

Wrote a small piece for the October 13th prompt "Monster" for Eddie Month! @eddiemonth. This is a short fic about Eddie coming back as some kind of monster after the events of S4. I might explore this idea more if people like it. (If I continue it, I'll probably make it Steddie, lol). Believe it or not, this is fluff. This is extremely soft and a look into Eddie's mind when he himself doesn't know his own mind anymore. He is more like a stray cat than something scary though.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

CW: Descriptions of gore/violence, body horror (minor), discrimination, mention of blood.

For as long as Eddie could remember he had felt like a monster. You were made to feel that way when you grew up poor without parents to rely on. You learned how to shroud yourself in mystery and grow teeth and nails to defend yourself with. How to be a viper and snap at anyone that dared provoke you. They made you feel like a monster, so the only way you could behave was monstrous. The only defense against the venom of humankind was to become something so grotesque they’d leave you alone. 

They’d made him a monster, a creature like from Frankenstein’s lab; just an amalgamation of parts that had never really belonged to him. Animated in the likeness of man, but deemed as cursed and obscene. How he’d been driven from town with pitchforks held high; a monster despite never being asked to be here. Despite never lifting a finger to harm anyone. Despite how little or fragile he really was. 

Eddie had always felt like a monster. It was how you grew up to keep yourself safe. My daddy was a demon and my mother was a mutant and they cursed this planet with a boy so terrible that no one would dare love him. That was how he had lived. That was all Eddie had to assume his future held.

How was it then that when Eddie had become a monster–a real one with fangs and claws, whose heart didn’t beat and skin didn’t bleed–how was it that he had found peace? How was it that he felt more loved now than he ever had when he was simply human?

At his return, his mind was a jumble, and scents and thoughts wafted through the air around him as he tried to recall everything to do with his previous life. He could remember things as if he was looking through a foggy window, grasping at the thoughts, but not always truly remembering. It had been hard not to fall silent in a room of people, to feel included, wanted, and safe. But these people–his people–they had celebrated his return. 

Eddie had come home to Hawkins stinking of death and polluted with tar. The places he had been wounded were marred with obsidian and tacky like dried blood. It didn’t hurt, but it had been disorienting. He hadn’t remembered anything–he hadn’t remembered anything but feeling like a monster. A freak. A bigger threat than he’d ever been… and he had curled up in his tub until he was found. Until warm water was sprayed on him to wash away the filth and a gentle hand had soothed his confusion. 

Scents were the first thing that had helped him remember. 

The way people smelled and the grounding odor of cigarettes. How Dustin, and Robin, Mike and Steve all had such specific scents that helped provoke feelings. The memories attached to those feelings came afterward, but he remembered feeling joy, concern, pride, and love. Good things. Good feelings. But even with the goodness he had shrunk in on himself, fearful that he’d frighten these people away even as they stared at him with glassy eyes and quivering lips. But he hadn’t scared them. He hadn’t scared them at all–he was a real monster and he had never had more people rally around him before in his life. 

With time the obsidian marks faded and his skin looked unmarred by the events of the Upside Down. He couldn’t fully remember what had happened or how he had crawled out of hell, but there were instincts ingrained into him that hadn’t been there before. Food curled his nose and tasted like water or ash in his mouth; the pleasures of sugar and salt felt like torture when he ate them, but meat had never tasted so good. 

Raw, bleeding, hot or cold, muscle and sinew, meat. He had craved it like a starved animal but had cringed away from the idea of killing something to feed his hunger. A fragment of humanity made him shiver and twitch with concern over the prospect. The idea made his mouth water, but it also flooded his guts with anxiety. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. Even like this. Even as a caged lion.

Eating was what had finally cleared his skin and Eddie had learned that abstaining from food for too long marked his flesh with the black substance once again. It made him look ghastly and Eddie had grimaced at his appearance as his body shifted under his gaze. He ate often and hid his unrest.

Still, the food had not been able to hide the secondary row of teeth that were wedged under his gums. It was as if he was a shark or a leech, but you could only really see the teeth when he curled his lip or smiled wide. They were weapons made for tearing and Eddie tried not to eat around his friends in fear the scene would mark him a beast. It was easy to talk around the fangs so long as he remembered. 

The claws were harder to get used to and Eddie had struggled with picking things up and not accidentally destroying everything he touched. They were sharp and he had refrained from touching any of his people in fear that he would wound them. Nothing seemed strong enough to trim his nails, but they didn’t grow either. It was like he had knives attached to his fingers and when he had remembered what his guitars were he had wept over the idea that he’d never be able to play the instrument again.

Nancy had been the one to come up with the idea and Robin had helped implement the plan. Acrylic nails to cover the tips of his fingers–they wouldn’t apply a full nail but the acrylic could be rolled into a bead and then applied to Eddie’s hand to cover the razer points. Eddie hadn’t known to feel foolish at the time, but he felt self-conscious about it now–even if there didn’t seem to be any way around it. Still, the girls had painted his nails black and he’d be free to touch things unbiasedly for a few weeks until the acrylic chipped off. It worked and he had encouraged the girls to make his claws look jagged or imperfect instead of nice and polished. He’d wear them as a costume, even though eventually he hoped he could figure out how to do the work himself. 

People had rallied to him and Eddie had felt meek in their wake. He had slunk around the party and shrunk into corners quietly like a scared animal, the onslaught of love and care too foreign and overwhelming to him. He didn’t even have his mind to joke and tease, it had just been too much even if he was inexplicably drawn to the attention still. He wanted it, but he didn’t. He needed it, but it felt like he was dying every time he got it. His energy had shifted eventually and he had learned that he liked compliments, so long as he could joke. He’d fain shyness and squirm, obviously touched but hamming up his reaction. 

Before he remembered that it was strange he had warmed up to everyone in quiet, affectionate ways. He had leaned and rested his cheek on Dustin’s head, relishing in the softness of his curls. He had tugged at Nancy’s shirt sleeves and followed her around while she worked, watching everything she did with the utmost interest. He had curled up beside Steve on the couch and slowly stretched across his lap like a cat looking to disrupt their owner, soaking in the warmth his body provided. 

Everyone had tolerated his oddities until slowly aspects of his humanity returned to him. Memories and social norms struck him at inopportune times and then flooded him with shame or nervousness. He felt like a toddler or enfeebled at times and it was difficult to keep up with everyone as they chatted around him. Still, whenever someone noticed him struggling they had softly explained in an aside or given him a reassuring touch. It was more than he could ask for and Eddie had fallen in love with every single one of his friends again and again. His people. 

It felt like he was bursting at the seams with platonic affection for every single one of them. He was taken care of and adored, not just tolerated. People wanted him for the first time, monster and all. 

He had been shamed into submission amongst the horde for his whole life, made to carry the mantle of vandal, plague, and devil whether he wanted it or not. Branded a problem–a defect. Branded a freak. He was everything he had been told he was his whole life but he did not fear it any longer. If being a beast earned him Lucas, and Jeff, Max, and Gareth he didn’t care. It didn’t matter to him because he was celebrated for remembering things and he felt safe just lingering close to his friends. 

He was grotesque now; built from spare parts and left for scrap, but his people wanted him anyway and Eddie had never felt more loved in his life.

Chapter 2

[ohitslen]

You will read this because you love me and because you want to see WW turn into a monster and going feral after he thinks Vash was dead thanks to a shot in the head, you will do it right?? Right????

Anyways my guys go and check it out! @molten-rainbows is super awesome and has more cool stuff on their blog so go go go!

[odo-apologist]

Smegtober #9: Music

Warning: there is a description of someone getting sick, so if you have emetophobia/find that uncomfortable, this is a heads up!

     Arnold was perched gingerly at the edge of his chair, shoulders scrunched about his neck and left leg bouncing away in discomfort. His eyes darted about the room, squinting in the low light, searching for the classmates who had taken him on this trip as an “initiation” to their group, but a knot of fear and shame grew in the pit of his stomach along with the realization that this was all some humiliating prank and he had been ditched in a dingy bar approximately 500 million miles from home.

   �� The place reeked of stale sweat, smoke, and cheap beer. The soles of Arnold's shoes had caught on the sticky floors when he walked, and he wondered how long it had been since they were mopped. He dreaded having to get up and navigate his way through the thick swathe of people shouting, laughing, and dancing to the music. And that was another problem: the music, if you could call it that. His parents would have called it chaotic noise, and he was inclined to agree. The live band produced a discordant, unharmonious cacophony upon poorly-tuned strings and clacking keyboards. The lead singer droned the uninspired lyrics out of time with the playing (to use the word liberally) of the tune (to use that word liberally).

     Eventually, the performance ended while Arnold had still spotted none of the people who brought him here. The knot had transformed into nausea and his breathing was coming quicker and someone brushed against him and stepped on his foot and his head was pounding and the glasses of lager that were thrust upon him by his peers wasn't helping any of it and he realized he was going to be sick. He stood up, swayed a moment, and shoved himself through the crowd until he got to the restroom. He had a moment to see himself in the mirror looking positively green before vomiting in, on, and over the sink. He took labored, gulping breaths between his retching, the effort, panic, and sting of stomach acid on his tongue causing tears to form in his eyes. Then he jumped as he felt a hand rest upon his shoulder.

     “Hey man, you alright?”

     Arnold had just enough strength to pause in evacuating his stomach of its little content to answer shortly, “Do I look alright to you?” He followed the question with another retch.

     “Look, I'm just trying to help, yeah? Seems like you need it.” The hand returned tentatively to Arnold's upper back, and its owner asked, “Is this okay?”

     Arnold didn't have the ability to respond, but he didn't flinch from it this time. He reveled in the act of comfort that was given so freely. Eventually, the heaving subsided. He groaned weakly, face reddened and cheeks wet. The hand vanished from his shoulder; he just managed to stifle a noise of protest when it came into his field of vision holding a wad of paper towels.

     “Thanks,” Arnold replied quietly. He wiped at his eyes and his mouth. Turning on the sink, he cupped his palm and drank the water he collected, washing away the taste. He turned at last to the person who helped him. His face fell with recognition.

     It was the lead singer of that godawful band. His hair managed to be styled into both an afro and locks that ran past his shoulders. The jean jacket he wore was an eyesore, covered in sparkly, gaudy pins that seemed not just to catch but emit light, contrasting with the dim, bare bulb hanging above their heads; Arnold felt compelled to shield his eyes.

     Turned from the sink, no longer doubled over, the man in front of Dave was easier to take in. He recognized this guy as the one pressed into the corner of the pub during his performance; he stuck out so much from the usual crowd, he was hard to forget. Dave had noted his slicked-down hair (though some curls had come loose since then), the tweed blazer and starched shirt underneath (now slightly rumpled), the bow tie (clawed at until it hung undone around his neck). “You're not a usual around here, are you?”

     The question must have roused something in his thoughts, because Dave watched his face grow tight with anxiety. “No, I'm-I'm not supposed to be here. I don't know why I believed them, of course it was just another stupid prank! But I d-don't know where they went, I'm just stuck here, and now I've got to find a way home and I'll be late for class and I'll get bad marks again and-and Father–” Beginning to hyperventilate, he practically gagged with anxiety, threatening to get sick a second time.

     “Woah, woah, you're gonna puke again; just try to breathe.” As Dave watched him sputter out a few deeper breaths, he continued, “How about I walk you home? You aren't in a state to go by yourself. Where do you live?”

     He was met with a humorless laugh. “Io.”

     “Smeg!” No wonder the guy was nervous, being left on his own on an unfamiliar planet. “Who left you here? How'd you get here?”

     He looked away from Dave in embarrassment. “One of my brothers…well, he's a test pilot for new demi-light-speed zippers. And another student at my school happened to get access to one through their parents, and he and his friends said I could prove myself if I do near what my brother did and ride it with them to Earth.”

     “You'd really go through all that trouble to impress a bunch of crypto-fascist arseholes who'd ditch you as part of a joke?”

     The Ionian looked at him like he was crazy. “Of course! What do you expect me to do?”

     “If it were me, I'd tell them to smeg off. How about calling your brother? Couldn't you do that?”

     Arnold paled; out of all his brothers, John would be the least reluctant to help him out, but that wasn't saying much. Still, unless his fellow students returned to mock him (not an unlikely scenario) or he miraculously found them, there wasn't a much better alternative. He sighed. “I suppose so.”

     The singer appeared to catch his hesitation and was on the verge of speaking again when the door opened. It was another member of the band.

     “Dave, what's keeping you? We've got another set to prepare for!”

      “Yeah, give me a minute, okay?” As Dave spoke, Arnold headed toward the exit. But he called to Arnold, “Wait, you alright to head out?”

     “Oh, yes, I'm fine, tickety-boo.” He was sure everything else about him said otherwise, but the interruption of their conversation made him feel the sudden urge to get out of the bar, away from this atmosphere, and in contact with his brother as soon as he could. Besides, Dave had done enough, more than pretty much anyone in his life had. He didn't want to impose further, not when he didn't really deserve it. Still, before rushing off, he gave him a small, genuine smile and said softly, “Thanks for your help, Dave.”

      Dave barely had time to process this as the man slipped away, heading out of the bar. He hoped he made it back home alright. The idea of taking one of those zippers here was totally mad. Dave shook his head; he'd have to be out of his mind before he'd ever do such a thing.