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duskyashe · 1 year

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NaNoWriMo Day #2

[masterlist] [part two] [part three] [part four]

Prompt found here

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The thing about being the half-ghost protector of a small Midwestern city whose rogues gallery consists of both the inhabitants of a parallel dimension intrinsically linked to the "living" one as well as goons from the government, is that you tend to get a bit lonely. There's never any representation for him or others like him among the well known heroes of the world, he's really got no one to model how he should fight his city's crime. Sure, Superman has a lot of powers that are similar to his own, but he's a beloved alien not a hated eldritch entity. And sure, Danny loves knowing there's other sentient life out there, but when the government is one of his rogues, it's kinda hard to look up to government approved heroes.

Though Captain Marvel was pretty cool, not gonna lie.

But his point was, as far as Danny knew, he was the only eldritch being/cryptid to have taken up heroics, ever, and that… that hurts sometimes, that he was the only one out of a rather large cast of possible "other" beings in the world to decide that protecting others was worth more than his own potential safety. He was both the frontrunner and the sacrificial lamb. If he succeeded in changing the narrative, in convincing humanity that supernatural beings and entities couldn't be defined by a few really well known bad nuts, then others would publicly fly his banner, but if he didn't, if he failed, then, well, no ectoplasmic skin off their metaphorical noses, y'know? It was isolating.

Danny honestly expected the rest of his existence would be defined by that loneliness, by being the only hero to be of a supernatural flavor others were actively terrified of. Until, that is, Sam and Tucker nearly broke his bedroom door down one Sunday morning, breathless and beaming, which was so out of character for Sam that Danny was kinda expecting his ghost sense to go off signaling she was being overshadowed. But no, she wasn't. She was genuinely excited about something, enough to act like the daughter her parents wished she was, not the down-to-earth goth beauty they actually had.

"Woah, guys, what's up?" Danny asked, sitting up from his sprawled out position on his bed. Tuck shut and locked his door while Sam pulled her phone out and showed it to him. He stared at the screen in shock for a few minutes as his friends got their breathing under control. "Is… is that… is that what I think it is?"

Sam nodded, grinning like a loon. "Tuck double checked everything. There's multiple cases with enough correlation between them, buried deep enough in the web, that for it all to be one big hoax or just a huge coincidence would be functionally impossible. This is real, Danny. You're not alone anymore." On her phone was a website, which looked like a newspaper of some sort, with a headline reading, "The Cryptid Known as Batman Strikes Again! Twoface Back in Arkham!" It was posted just last week. Danny took Sam's phone and looked through the open tabs. There were articles and blog posts and Reddit pages and YouTube channels dedicated to what seemed to be a whole clan of cryptids who made Gotham City their home. All of them praised the elusive clan. Thanked them for protecting them. For saving them.

Danny started tearing up. He couldn't help it. Here was proof that what he was doing wasn't all for nothing. It was possible to be a hero loved by those he protected while being a member of the supernatural, part-time though his membership may be.

It was at that point that fourteen year old Danny "Phantom" Fenton decided the entity called "Batman" was his hero, his idol, the being he looked up to most of all. His method of fighting crime was a tad too violent for Danny, but his style was perfect. He couldn't change who or what he was, not without some serious side effects, but if "Batman" and their clan could turn the public's favor to their side despite being so obviously not human, something even literal aliens didn't attempt to do, then screw it, Danny was going to do the same thing. He would embrace his ghostliness as Phantom, instead of trying to pretend he was still human in that form. Maybe that was his problem, anyway? Could others tell he was pretending to still be human as Phantom? It didn't really matter at the moment, but it would be interesting to test that going forward…

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In the end, a year and a half is all it took for everything to completely fall apart. Danny would say he was surprised, but honestly, he'd seen this coming as far back as that incident with Pariah Dark, which ended with him ascending the ghostly throne. The way Amity Park reacted to that whole ordeal was rather telling. Although a number of the younger crowd had started shifting their views of Phantom, too many of the adults still saw him as a threat and vilified him, even after he saved all of reality.

Living in Amity Park had quickly become too dangerous for him and his team—Sam, Tucker, and Jazz—, but while Jazz was fairly easily able to get custody of Danny and get the two of them away from the boiling cauldron of tension, Sam and Tucker didn't have that option. His core protested leaving members of his fright behind in such a hazardous situation, but with no idea how things would go down where Jazz and Danny were running to, they had to leave them for the time being. If everything went to plan, then Jazz would call the rest of their fright to them.

Thankfully, with him being the ghost king now, his ghostly rogues had cut back on their attacks on his haunt during the past year, instead scheduling time with Jazz to teach him more about ghost culture, as well as other supernatural beings and their cultures. Due to these lessons, Danny, Sam, and Tucker would often debate what kind of beings Batman's clan had and how many beings the clan contained instead of finishing their homework.

Batman was obviously an entity loosely tied to shadows that had ascended to minor divinity over the past few years, while Robin had to be some sort of fey being, considering their eternally youthful appearance. This theory was backed by Robin's ability to mimic the voices of seemingly anyone. Raven, the next oldest member of Batman's clan, had to be eldritch in origin, though it was interesting that they claimed a name so closely related to death and prophecy. Danny and his friends couldn't quite agree on what kind of eldritch being Raven was, just that they were one.

Condor was an interesting being to debate, as the name also had strong ties with death, as well as rebirth. Sam thought that meant Condor was a Phoenix that wanted to stay on theme with the rest of the clan, while Tuck thought Condor was some kind of zombie. Jazz was actually the one to propose Condor may have been a lich, which honestly kind of made sense. Condor was known to have looser morals than the others in the clan, which fit with the general idea of how liches come into being, especially if those they killed came back as undead servants like some rumors claimed.

Around the same time Condor showed up, whisperings of a being named Oracle started showing up within the forums Tuck had hacked. While there was no confirmed record of appearance for her, there were multiple accounts of the other members of the bat clan sending words of thanks to her, so she might have been the actual spirit of the Oracle of Delphi, which would be so cool.

Ibis was definitely some sort of trickster spirit, possibly even a kitsune. With their tendency to dance around an opponent until victory was assured and their tenuous grasp on the humanoid form, they couldn't really be anything else. Black Bat had to be another entity loosely tied to shadows, though they seemed more eldritch than Batman was. Starling could literally only be a banshee, what with her death shrieks every time she attacked. Weirdly enough, Signal seemed to already have a supernatural theory attached to them, said theory being that they were the bat signal given sentience and humanoid form, though Danny thought they might be more of a vengeful spirit.

There were likely others, those not as well known or even ever seen. There always were. For Danny's fright, that was Ellie, who was constantly on the move, especially now that she'd mastered teleportation and portal making. While most of his former ghostly rogues knew of Ellie, the only humans that knew of her were members of his fright and Valerie.

At the time, spitballing ideas about the members of the bat clan in Gotham was just all fun and games, a way to practice the knowledge they were learning in a more practical and entertaining way than just bookwork. Now, though, Danny couldn't be more grateful they had spent so much time on those debates, countless nights they stayed up late trawling through the deep web to stay up to date on the latest on Gotham's guardian deity and his clan. Because they had such solid guesses on what beings made up the bat clan, they'd be able to appeal for sanctuary in a more appropriate manner than if they had no clue at all.

As his and Jazz's bus drew closer to Gotham on the horizon, Danny anxiously checked that the duffle with their offerings was still secured. He hoped the bats liked their gifts; they had barely any concrete info on any of the more public members, let alone the lesser known ones. He wasn't sure what they'd do if Batman refused their appeal; with the schematics to rebuild the Fenton portal within easy access of the GIW, they couldn't risk hiding out in the Infinite Realms for fear of drawing Danny's subjects into a fruitless war.

Please, he prayed to Gotham's guardian deity, please don't turn us away. You're our last hope.

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As Bruce was getting ready for patrol that night, he felt the creeping rise of anticipation. Something was going to happen tonight, something extraordinary. He just wasn't sure if it was going to be a good thing or not. Like usual.

For the past year and a half, Bruce had noticed an odd trend. Whenever something big was going to happen, something that would affect the entirety of his city, he'd feel antsy all day, right up until whatever was going to happen happened. It certainly helped cut down on the number of times they'd been caught with their metaphorical pants around their knees, but not being able to tell if the nebulous something was going to be good or not was annoying. Though, to be fair, there weren't a lot of good things that had happened since he started noticing his new sense.

"Listen up," he sighed as he stalked over to the conference table in the cave. "Something's going to happen tonight, something big. As usual, that's all the information I have, so you know the drill; if you see anything unusual, call it in." Bruce looked over his brood of children, most of them adults in their own right by now. Goodness, the years have flown by fast. "Try to stick relatively close to each other tonight, please. I want to be able to watch each other's backs in case whatever it is manages to get the drop on us."

Dick nodded with a grin. "You got it, B," he said, slinging an arm over Damian's shoulder. "C'mon, baby bird, let's run through our stretches one last time before heading out, yeah?"

"Tt, it is Todd who needs those stretches most, was he not the one to strain his knee last week?"

"You listen here, you little—"

"He's not wrong, Jay. You sure you don't want my stretch routine? It'd do you wonders, y'know."

"You mean your torture routine, Replacement? How you can get your body into some of those shapes and still call it stretching, I'll never know—"

Bruce shook his head, a small smile playing at his lips. He wasn't quite sure when that change had happened, but he'd be forever grateful it had. It pained him when his sons fought each other.

A small hand came to rest on his shoulder, drawing him out of his thoughts. He glanced down at his daughter and smiled at her look of concern. "I'm alright," he reassured her, "just thinking."

Cass looked at him thoughtfully before nodding. "It will be alright. Tonight will be good. We will stay safe. You stay safe, too?"

Bruce was nodding before she finished speaking. "Of course. We should head out, any longer and Stephanie will try banshee striking the first shady person she sees," he said, an amused glint in his eye as Steph cried out in indignation from over by the batmobile.

An hour into patrol, and Bruce's anticipation skyrocketed. Whatever was happening tonight was happening soon. "Everyone, check-in."

"Raven here, checking in, all clear here." Dick.

"This is Condor, everything's normal on my end." Jason.

"Robin, checking in, nothing is out of place." Damian.

"Starling here! Just some run-of-the-mill muggers, currently crying for daddy!" Steph.

"Black Bat. Clear." Cass.

Where's—? "Ibis here. B, I think I found the source of your feeling. Sending Oracle my coordinates now." Tim.

"Understood. En route now. Do not engage without backup, understood?" Bruce demanded, taking off toward the beacon indicating Tim's location.

"I'll try, B, but I get the impression they know I'm here."

The anticipation rose again. Whoever Tim was watching definitely knew he was there. "We'll hurry."

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Tim clung to the gargoyle overlooking one of the many rooftop shrines to the Bats and the Birds. There, sitting cross-legged about a foot in the air next to the shrine, was a glowing teenaged boy with snow bright hair and Lazarus Pit green eyes. He was wearing a black and silver armored suit, similar to the suits he and his siblings wore, with a flowing cape that blended into the night hung from his shoulders and a greenish black crown floating just above his head. In his lap was a black, gray, and green duffle bag that looked to be rather full, and in his hand was a beat up looking photograph. He couldn't make out what it was a photo of from this angle, but he'd recognize a well-loved photograph anywhere.

"In position, IIbis, you may initiate contact." Bruce said over comms. Tim didn't bother acknowledging he heard and instead carefully unwound himself from his hiding place in the shadows. Carefully, he danced down the side of the building he was on, contorting himself into inhuman looking positions as he went, until he could silently drop onto the roof with the shrine. He slowly slunk forward, keeping low and accentuating his curiosity. That was the key, here, he really was curious about this kid. That was what sold IIbis as something other, something not human.

Tim was about five feet from the shrine when wide, glowing green eyes suddenly found his own, covered though they might be. Tim froze, holding the slightly exaggerated pose he'd found himself in, crouched and arched in a way that screamed wary curiosity. Cautiously, he rolled his head to the side and chirped slightly.

"You really do exist," the kid breathed in awe before he shook himself and straightened, grabbing the duffle from his lap before letting his feet meet the rooftop. "Hi, um, I was wondering if I could possibly meet with your clan leader, Batman?"

Tim stared at the kid for a long moment as Bruce silently made his way to the shadows of the shrine. At Bruce's signal, a soft tap on the comm, Tim shifted and rolled and contorted until he was standing in a much more human-like fashion, then purposefully turned only his head to look directly where Bruce's beacon said he was. The kid whipped his head around right as Bruce seemingly melted out of the shadows, his size and sheer presence seemingly dwarfing the kid, who sucked in a surprised breath but barely moved an inch. Impressive.

"Yes?" Bruce growled softly, not the unpleasant, gravelly growl reserved for criminals, but the warm, gentle rumble reserved for kids and victims.

The kid's awe only grew more pronounced, but somehow he still managed to pull himself together enough to speak. "H-hi, my name's Phantom, I'm not sure if you've heard of me or not. I'd like to ask for sanctuary for myself and my fright-mates. Our previous haunt has become rather hostile towards us, and I'm not strong enough to keep them safe. Um, I've got some gifts for you and your clan, I wasn't sure how large your clan was, so I'm sorry if I offend you or anything with the lack of gifts for everyone. M-may I pull them out?" He asked, lifting the duffle slightly to indicate what he meant.

Bruce was silent as he waited for the rest of the bats and birds to form a loose circle around Phantom, stances mostly non-threatening, and stepped forward into the glow coming from the kid. At this point, the kid's awe was nearly palpable, glancing at as many of them as he could but always facing Bruce and not moving more than his eyes.

After a further moment, Bruce tilted his head slightly and nodded, causing the kid to outright beam.

"Right! Well, first, for yourself, I have a set of ghost steel batarangs, enchanted to return to their case once they leave a hundred yard radius. They're tied specifically to the case, so you can lend them to someone else, but it's recommended you be the only one to use them for the first ten uses in live combat. Next, for Black Bat, a cloak made by the best undead tailors this side of eternity. Made from the shadows themselves, whoever wears it becomes functionally invisible in low light conditions and beyond. I was also told it grants slight shadow manipulation, as well. For Robin, a shape shifting sword from the fey realms themselves, fitting for a changeling child. All curses and tricks were totally removed, as we weren't certain you wouldn't share it with some of your clan mates, and we didn't want to accidently cause any problems that could have been averted—" Phantom kept going, pulling something from the bag, naming who it was for, and explaining a little about it, before putting it back in the bag and moving on. But what drew Tim's attention, time and time again, was the fact that Phantom seemed to be under the impression they were actually members of the supernatural—he all but called Tim a kitsune, and definitely implied Damian was a changeling! It was both amusing the kid honestly thought they were members of the supernatural, and rather concerning at the same time. They were all human, weren't they? They were method acting every time they suited up, heck, Tim was nothing more than a self trained contortionist that could mimic a few bird calls and knew a bit of self defense. Why did this kid, who was possibly an actual ghost, think they were supernaturally inclined? Were they really that good at method acting? Or was there something more to it than that?

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Hey, guys! I literally stayed up working on this until midnight, so already in pushing my self proclaimed boundaries (⁠；⁠^⁠ω⁠^⁠）I had so much help from my friends on the @batpham-discord-highlights discord server, I'll look into tagging everyone that helped in the morning when I'm not struggling to stay awake (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠) I hope you enjoyed this long fic, guys, cuz I was NOT expecting to write 3,266 words today! Good night, good morning, good day!

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am-i-obsessed---maybe · 5 months

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Dark Glasses - Crowley x Reader (Platonic)

Sooooo, Nanowrimo was a bust, but you know what that means?

We're back with the fanfiction train! Choo Choo!

also reminder that requests are open! (just check out my guidelines first)

Wordcount: 1.9k

Summery: Friends support friends even when your friend is actually a demon but especially when your demon friend just got shot down by his long time angel crush.

The same man has been coming to your bar since you started working there five years ago. The other bartenders told you he's been around since you opened 20 years ago, he never gives his name and comes in with dark glasses no matter what time of day it is or whether the sun is out or not. Although unlike most regulars he doesn't have a specific drink he always orders. Sometimes it’s a rum and coke, sometimes he goes for a more classy bottle of wine, sometimes he'll even order a straight shot of liquor but he always tips well.

You call him 'Dark Glasses'. You could have called him redhead seeing as his hair was the most vibrant red you'd ever seen. There was no way it was natural but that wouldn't be fair to him. Some people can get very touchy about red hair.

Instead you called him dark glasses.

Dark Glasses came into your bar one day, sauntering over in the late afternoon, not an unnatural occurrence. The bar was basically empty with the exception of two friends that got a head start on the night's drinking.

Dark Glasses sat down and you could feel the loss and pain flowing off of him, not like how you can tell with people. It wasn't his expression or body language that gave you the impression though, it was as if you felt his emotions. As if they were ebbing off of him.

"Give me whatever's strongest" He said and you nodded, something told you he needed to drown out his sorrows.

“One bone dry martini coming right up” you said.

As you mixed his drink you periodically looked over at him, the poor guy was thrown over the bar as if it was the only thing keeping him from crying.

You walked over to him and handed him the drink.

"There you go sir" You said and he perked up only slightly, took the glass from you and downed the entire thing in one go.

"I'll need another one" He said, pushing the glass back in your direction.

You stared at him, "That, that was a glass of straight vodka. three shots of vodka." You said, stunned.

"I thought you said this was a martini" The man mumbled.

"Yes, the glass is coated in a little bit of vermouth, that's what makes it so dry... You just downed three shots of vodka like it was nothing" You said.

"Got a high tolerance, now can I get another one please?" He asked and honestly you were a bit too stunned to say no.

After two more though you knew he was done. Normal people, even those with a high tolerance like he apparently has can't drink more than 6 shots of vodka without getting drunk and he was drunk.

Mind you, not the fun kind he normally is. You're familiar with Dark Glasses when he's drunk. He slurs and gets very bold and flirty as well as clumsy, though not touchy which always surprised you. Now though, now was different. Now he was a sad drunk. Moping all around the bar. He could barely walk, instead he swayed from side to side and his flirting, something you could usually count on to raise your spirits, became lowley grumbling.

"I think that's enough" You said, taking what little remained of his third glass and pouring it out.

"What? No! I'm fine" He tried to say but struggled with the last word.

"No, you're drunk. You can stick around but the only thing you're getting is water" You told him and he made a face that almost looked like a snake trying to give puppy dog eyes.

"Come on Y/N, you know me, I can handle anything" He said, pulling you by the sleeve over the bar.

He's never initiated contact like that before. Not with anyone.

"Alright, that's enough. Go home" You told him and he deflated.

"Can't," He said.

"What do you mean can't?" You asked.

He had a home. He'd told you about it. A nice flat in mayfair with lots of plants.

"Can't. Don't live there anymore" He said and you looked genuinely surprised. Is that what has him so down in the dumps? Was he evicted? Did the bank repossess his apartment?

"What about that bookseller friend of yours in Soho? Can't you stay with him?" You asked and he shook his head.

"He's gone. He went to heaven" Dark Glasses said.

"Oh I'm so sorry" You said, maybe that was why he was so down.

"How about this, I finish my shift in a couple hours, you can crash on my couch" You told him. You'd never have said this to anyone else but you knew Dark Glasses. You knew he was sweet though he hated when someone pointed it out and you knew he needed help.

"You would do that for me?" He asked and you smiled.

"What can I say, you tip really well" You joked and managed to get a chuckle out of him before he went back to moping.

A few hours later He was leaning on you as you walked him out of the bar. Somehow still just as drunk as when you'd taken away his last drink.

"Wait, wait, wait, how are we going to your place?" He asked.

"Car" you said. He wasn't heavy but keeping him walking in a somewhat straight line out was difficult.

"My car?" He asked.

"No. You are not driving. My car" You told him and led him over to where your slightly beat up old car was parked.

"Now come on, in you go" You said, trying to help him in. It took a minute but he managed to shimmy in comfortably enough for someone with very little control of their extremities.

"I don't like this car" He complained.

"Too bad" you told him, got in and drove off.

"Why are you helping me? You're never this nice" He slurred.

"You're never this mopey" You retorted.

"Yeah but, but..." He trailed off.

"We're almost there just don't fall asleep the last thing I need is to try to drag you up to my place" You said and he nodded.

"Don't worry, I won't, I can sober up whenever I want" He said and you shook his head. Sometimes Dark Glasses said the craziest things when he was drunk. Sometimes he'd say them when he wasn't drunk but that was neither here nor there.

You eased him through the door to your flat and he smiled.

"You have plants, very nice Y/N" He said and you smiled.

"Thank you now you go sit down before you collapse all over my floor" You told him and he did as he was told, sitting down and then sprawling himself over your couch.

"He used to do this too, when I was too drunk, he'd bring me in and tell me to sit" he slurred and you turned to him, confused.

"Who?" You asked.

“My angel” Dark Glasses said. You came over to him with a glass of water.

"It's hard, when someone dies. Grief is a powerful thing" You told him and he shrugged.

"I wouldn't know" he said, slurping down the contents of the cup.

"Just sleep. You'll feel better in the morning" you told him, spreading a blanket over him and placing the cup on the coffee table.

"Try to make it to the toilet if you puke" You told him and went to bed yourself.

Crowley had never been hungover. He'd always sober up before it got to that point but this time he didn't. Even the thought of sobering up made him think of his drinking sessions with Aziraphale.

But Aziraphale left. He went to heaven and left Crowley to drown out his sorrows the human way.

The first thing you woke up to was the loud sound of someone vomiting.

"Please god let him have made it to the toilet" You said to yourself, throwing off the blacket and going to check on your mysterious guest.

She must have thought it would be funnier to scare you because Crowley in fact made it to the toilet. Luckily.

Crowley was practically puking his life out, once it was all out, at least for now, he heaved.

"How do humans do this?" He asked. He had half a mind to miracle it all away.

"With years of practice" You said, making your presence known.

"Ahhh!" He shouted, falling back on his butt only to rub at his head and groan, "Ugh". Now everything hurt even more than before.

He still had his sunglasses on, though the bathroom lights were off and the sun hadn’t even come up yet.

"I always thought you were pretty strange but now I'm starting to wonder if you're sane at all" You said.

"If you're worried I'll go crazy and attack you, you needn't be." He said quietly and you rolled your eyes.

"As if you could with the way you are right now, you look like you've been dragged through hell" You said and Crowley looked back down at the toilet.

"Oh you have no idea" He said.

At this point he was simply sitting criss-crossed in front of the toilet so you sat down on the bathroom floor next to him. Checking the time, it had only been a few hours.

"I know you've gotten drunk before, have you seriously never been hungover?" You asked.

"Never" He said.

"I don't think I believe you" You said.

“Well it’s the truth” He said.

“You are one strange specimen Glasses” You said.

“Glasses?” He asked.

“Oh, um, you never told any of us at the bar what your name was so we just called you Dark Glasses… cause you’re always wearing your dark—”

“Yeah I get it” He said. “It’s Crowley by the way”

“That’s quite the original name” You said.

“Used to be Crawley but that was a bit too” He made a hissing noise with his tongue and you noticed it was thin and split, like a snake’s.

“You know sometimes I wonder if you’re even human with all the strange shit that comes out of your mouth” You joked and Crowley laughed and then smirked.

“You wanna know a secret?” He asked.

You looked at him skeptically. “Do I?” You asked.

He shrugged, “It’s up to you really” He said.

“Then, yeah I guess”

“I’m a demon” He said.

You chuckled.

He didn’t laugh.

“No”

“Yes”

“I was the serpent of eden” He said, smiling.

“That’s not– no… cause that would mean that god” He nodded, “And satan” He nodded again.

“The world almost ended four years ago” He says. It’s almost as if seeing your reaction is helping him get his spirits back.

“You can’t just drop a bomb like that and move on!”

…

“How come it didn’t?” You asked.

“We convinced the antichrist that the earth was actually pretty nice” He said.

“We?” You asked.

“Aziraphale… and I” He said, his voice dwindling.

“He’s that bookseller friend of yours right?” You asked and Crowley nodded.

“He’s the one that died, I’m so sorry Crowley” You said, putting a comforting hand on Crowley’s shoulder.

“He didn’t die.” Crowley said.

You looked at him, “But you said he went to heaven” “He’s an angel, my angel” Crowley said, his voice wasn’t a white, it was more just, sad and full of grief.

“He went off to become the new supreme archangel of all of heaven” Crowley said, this time he was in fact whining.

“Well then, he could come back” You said but Crowley shook his head.

“Not after he said he forgave me” He said.

“Forgave you for what?” “Kissing him,” Crowley said sorrowfully.

Oh.

“I’ll go get us both some wine” You said.

#good omens x reader #crowley x reader #gn reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #good omens 2 #aziraphale x crowley #platonic reader insert #good omens crowley x reader

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ladykailitha · 5 months

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Royal Pain Part 26

Hello, and we have got to the end of the massive arc that culminated the last four chapters.

I also wrote this part before 24 and 25 because I couldn't figure out how to write Eddie having a hard time on tour, but the aftermath flowed from my fingers.

Also as a reminder this story is finished, I'm just posting on a regular schedule. This story is the longest fanfic I've ever written. Topping out at 58165 it's definitely longer than 50K fic I wrote for NaNoWriMo last year (Sandman, never finished or published.)

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12 Pt 13 Pt 14 Pt 15 Pt 16 Pt 17 Pt 18 Pt 19 Pt 20 Pt 21 Meta Pt 22 Pt 23 Pt 24 Pt 25

****

“You’ve been sitting on that sofa for an entire week,” Wayne growled. “Steve has called three times, your bandmates at least a dozen times each. Hell, boy Miranda has been calling concerned. So want to tell me what’s fucking got you so twisted?”

“I was given a choice out there on the road,” Eddie said, twisting his rings around his fingers. “Stay in Indy and play small time gigs for the rest of my adult life or go to LA and get an album and the chance at super stardom.”

Wayne sat down next him. “Sounds like a big decision to make.”

Eddie leapt to his feet. “That’s the problem. That’s what makes me so angry how fucking easy the choice is.”

Wayne cocked his head to the side. “Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your plate again, boy. Start talking.”

Eddie started pacing back and forth. “As much as I loved playing for so many people, I didn’t like that I could only connect with a handful of them and not even the good kind.” He rubbed his chin angrily. “I didn’t like how tired we all were. It was set up, sound check, play, break down and move on to the next fucking town. And that wasn’t including all the parties, interviews, and all that other shit.”

“That does sound exhausting, Ed.”

“I didn’t like how easy it was for them to tell me to drop Gareth as drummer just because he had trouble adjusting to the increased volume. The price of fame they said. Like it was so simple to throw away almost two decades of friendship for the sake of adoring crowds and hearing our music on the radio.”

“Oh, darlin’,” Wayne said softly. “They didn’t...”

“Oh they absolutely did,” Eddie raged. “I didn’t like how they thought that because me and Steve’s relationship was new that I would be able to find someone better. Someone who liked metal, someone who would be down for the ride.”

Wayne furrowed his brow. “That doesn’t sound like good advice.”

Eddie grabbed his hair pulled at it frustration. “The last straw was when they offered to let their tattooist to finish my back tattoo, because while my artist was good, theirs was better.”

He stopped abruptly and turned to face Wayne. “I picked Steve to do my tattoo on my back because he was the only one I trusted to make it meaningful. To understand the symbolism of making something of yourself when everyone is rooting against you. I made the decision before I fell in love with him and now that we’re a couple– and for them to just dismiss him like that? It made me so angry.”

“So what’s the problem? What’s got you so twisted around the bend?”

Eddie took a deep breath and let it out slow. “I’m fucking furious because I always thought that when fame and fortune came knocking I would throw open that door and march right through it. But now? Given the choice? I’m slamming the door in its face and walking away.”

Hot tears ran down his face. “And I don’t know why.”

He dropped to his knees and began to sob.

Wayne stood up and put his arms around his nephew’s shoulders, gently pulling him to his chest.

“Did that band you were traveling with say that?” he whispered into Eddie’s curls. “Because if they did, I swear to god I will burn every record and CD you have of theirs. Don’t think I won’t. I’ll delete them off your phone too.”

Eddie chuckled weakly. “No, no. They were kind. It was everyone else we met. Agents, managers, roadies, groupies, the people around Metallica every day.”

Wayne nodded.

“I was just constantly bombarded with hateful messages and the constant running at one hundred percent...” he whimpered. “I don’t want to do it.”

“Have you told your band that?” Wayne asked.

Eddie shook his head. “I don’t dare to. I was the one that was gung ho about the touring and everything. How do I tell them I don’t want to leave the comfort of Indianapolis and home?”

“Kinda like that,” Jeff said from the doorway. His arms were crossed and he was leaning against the frame. Peaking around him was Miranda with a concerned look on her face.

Eddie scrambled to his feet and wrapped his arms around his waist. “I’m sorry I’ve been a brat.”

Jeff took three giant steps forward and hugged him fiercely. “You’re not being a brat. You’re scared and trying to figure it all out on your own, but you don’t have to, okay? We’ve all been worried sick about you. But Steve especially. I’ll call all the boys down for a chat and you call Steve, okay?”

Eddie nodded.

He dialed the number he knew by heart.

“Baby?” he asked, unsure of the reaction he was going to get. He deserved to be yelled at. Cursed at. Broken up with. He’d hurt Steve the most with this little temper tantrum he’d been having.

“Eds?” Steve breathed. “Sunshine, are you okay? Wayne said you hadn’t been eating well or sleeping much. Say the word and I’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

Eddie’s lip began to quiver and tears spilled out of his eyes. “I need you. More than anything.”

“I’m on my way,” Steve said fiercely.

Eddie looked over at Jeff.

“Tell Steve Brian will swing by and pick him up.”

Eddie nodded and relayed the message back to Steve.

“I’ll be at my apartment,” Steve said. “I’ll have Robin arrange my schedule, don’t you worry about thing, baby.”

“Mm’k.”

“I love you, Eds.”

Eddie closed his eyes and breathed in the warmth of that simple phrase. “Love you, too, pretty boy. Come quick.”

“I promise.”

Steve piled into Brian’s car. It was the newest, having bought it right before they got picked up by Metallica. He had finally saved up enough money to replace his beater.

Gareth and Gethin in the backseat. Gethin had come up to Indy to watch his twin’s apartment while he was gone and just ended up staying. He was currently looking for a job so that he could move in with Gareth full time.

At least that what they said on the trip down. The twins and Brian were intent on filling the air with talk and Steve let them. He let them fill him in on the tour and everything that had been going on since they’d left.

Steve couldn’t be for certain, but it sounded like that touring hadn’t been fun for anyone. Even after a week of rest, he could still make out the circles under their eyes and how hunched over they were with just sheer exhaustion.

A feeling Steve felt all too well.

Gethin was pressed against his twin’s side and was rubbing his neck soothingly.

Steve looked at Brian.

His face was set, hard and unflinching. He was going to make the drive to Hawkins as fast as he could and still avoid the cops.

Steve was grateful Brian was driving because he didn’t think he would have made the distinction to avoid breaking the law. He would have gunned it and flipped off any cop that tried to catch him.

After awhile, Steve was getting the oddest feeling that Brian was used to speeding down this stretch of highway because there were points where he would slow down for a few miles and then speed right back up.

Soon enough they were pulling up to Wayne’s trailer and piling out the car.

Eddie sat on the sofa with Jeff and Miranda on either side of him, just hugging him.

Wayne was busying himself in the kitchen, getting ready to feed the hoard that was about to descend on his home.

The door opened up and Brian, Gareth, and Gethin all stumbled through the entryway. Eddie was on his feet in an instant, Jeff and Miranda not far behind.

And then the trio at the door parted and there stood Steve. Looking just as tired and worn as Eddie felt.

“Stevie?” Eddie asked, taking a step toward him uncertainly.

Steve threw open his arms and Eddie ran straight into them. They wrapped their arms around each other and just sobbed.

“I’m here, Eds,” Steve murmured into Eddie’s neck. “I’m here. I love you so much.”

Eddie lifted his head and kissed him hard. “I love you, too. I regret leaving you behind, sweetheart. It nearly killed me. Every song I wrote was about you. About missing you. I don’t even want to leave you ever again, I can’t.”

The silence that followed that statement was deafening.

Steve led Eddie back over to couch and sat them both down. “Tell us everything, babe.”

And so Eddie did. He told them everything. Everything he had told Wayne, everything that had been weighing on his mind since they started touring. It all just came out in a flood.

They all listened patiently.

“Why didn’t you tell us you felt like that while we were on the road?” Gareth asked. “I knew what they were saying about me, but I also knew you guys wouldn’t drop me. If you had me about that I would have been able to reassure you that I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

Eddie flushed with embarrassment. “I didn’t know how to bring it up, it was so vile, man.”

Jeff gave his hand a squeeze. “Well, I think that you did a bang up job telling us now and that’s what really matters.”

“Someone offered to ship me out to LA and record an album,” Eddie finally admitted. “Not the band, just me. I told him that I wouldn’t go without you guys and he laughed in my face. Told me to cut the dead weight and be a star.” He dragged his hands over his face.

“But there were other offers. Good ones. Ones that included the band, well most of it, anyway. Always under the proviso that Gareth be replaced either on tour or all together. They didn’t want to make any accommodations for him even though there is a drummer with one god damn arm!”

“So the options are,” Brian said, “stay in Indy doing what we’ve been doing, only better because of the money we got for doing this tour. Go to LA without Gareth. Go to LA with Gareth but only as a studio musician and take some person we don’t know on tour with us. Does that sound about right?”

Just then Gareth’s phone went off. He looked at it with a frown. It wasn’t a number recognized so he let it go to voicemail. He pulled it up after the notification popped up.

He listened to message with wide eyes. “Hey guys, I think we have another option.” And he played the message so everyone could hear.

“Hey, Mr Hughes,” the tinny voice said through the speaker. “This is Murray Bauman, I’m music producer, we spoke in Las Vegas. I think I have the perfect deal for you boys. You were telling me that touring was really hard on you and that if there was an option you wouldn’t do that. I know you weren’t speaking for all your band, but I could tell that they would do anything for you, all four of you being such good friends.

“So the reason for this call is that I own a small music company in Bloomington and boy do I have a deal for you all. You would make a record through us, we would sell and distribute the record, keeping a portion of the sales, of course. But you wouldn’t have to tour. You have a steady gig as I understand it. If your fans want to see you play, they’ll know where to find you.

“But give me a call, we’ll hash out the details. My phone number is 555-555-2080...” and then message beeped, signaling the end of the voicemail.

Eddie looked down at the phone and then back up at Gareth. “Oh.”

Gareth grinned. “We don’t even have to take his offer, but I vote we listen to it. Brian can bring Cecil.”

Brian nodded. “He’s only got a semester left of law school, but I’ll have him brush up on his contract law to be on the safe side.”

Jeff raised his hand. “All in favor of hearing Mr Bauman out raise your hand?”

Eddie, Brian, and Gareth’s hands shot up.

“Sounds good,” Jeff said. “You call him back and set it up and if it doesn’t work out we can vote again.”

Brian shook his head. “Nah. I think if it doesn’t work, we stick to Nightmare Holes. We took a swing at it and if it’s a miss then we tried. I thought I wanted the touring and everything that came with stardom, but like Eddie I learned I wanted the romanticized version of it. I’ll be happy playing in front of our friends for the rest of our lives.”

The rest of the band nodded.

Soon everyone getting up to go back to Indy, but Steve stayed behind, he would go back up with Eddie in the morning. They had things to discuss that went deeper then the band.

****

Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

I told you I would fix it.

Also a little BTS, the reason in my head for why things went wrong on tour but immediately righted itself when Eddie and Steve met up again? Steve still has Eddie's lucky pick. ;)

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @bookworm0690 @chaosgremlinmunson @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @aizawa-emma @yikes-a-bee @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @archermightbegay @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bestwifehaver @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @oldwitcheshat @nightmareglitter @tinyplanet95 @novelnovella @jonesn4coffee @slowandsteddie @awkwardgravity1 @steaddie-on

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #tattoo artist steve

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prettyiwa · 5 months

Text

Relationship: Miyuki Kazuya x F!Reader Rating: SFW Content Tags: MLB!Miyuki Kazuya, Interpreter!Reader, Coworkers to Friends to ???, Pining, Previous alcohol consumption, Mild flirting, First kiss, Almost confessions, Slight panic, guilt, & frustration, Adult Kazuya is still awkward, Reader is a little older than Kazuya, Reader takes her job very seriously, Mixed signals at the end. Summary: When Kazuya asked his team with the NPB to be posted, he didn't think he'd end up meeting you again. When time came to choose an interpreter, he chose you without hesitation. Neither of you truly anticipated that feelings would bloom, even with the near constant proximity. Your birthday rolls around and he isn't thinking about his silly little crush until he can't stop thinking about it. Word Count: 4,590

A/N: I wanted to include the entire story for his birthday but NaNoWriMo came along and took up my attention. So I'm sharing an excerpt instead!

And thank you, as always, to my wonderful beta @tyga-lily. I'd still be floundering if not for you ♡

As soon as he steps out into the night, Kazuya’s met with a wall of humid air, thick and warm thanks to the lingering heat from the day. His clothes are already starting to stick to him as he steps further from the house and it won’t be much longer until he starts to feel beads of sweat building at the nape of his neck. When he turns to find you, his movements feel a little loose and everything seems hazy at the edges and he realizes he’s not as sober as he thought he was.

Still, he’s gotta be soberer than you, what, with the drinking games you were dragged into by your college best friend. He’s honestly lost count of how many shots he took from you throughout the night (and however many more he ended up tossing into the plant him when they became too much).

The music inside dies down a bit—probably the work of your brother, the acting adult of the evening—and he tries to listen for you, only to come up empty. No sounds of your footsteps, neither in the street nor along the staircase leading to the beach, leaving him alone with the increasingly loud beating of his heart.

It’s only been a couple of minutes. How far could you have gone? It’s not like you could’ve made it down to the shore in that time. That doesn’t stop his mind from conjuring scenarios in which you fall into the water, unable to get back up. Moving forward, he ends up tripping over that same rock he’s tripped over three times today, feeling that familiar pain shoot from his toe up his leg.

“Dammit!”

“Miyuki?”

The sound of your voice floods him with relief and he turns his head in your direction. The motion makes him dizzy for half a second. “There you are.”

You pop around the corner, confusion almost as palpable as the humidity before it makes way for your wide grin. “Are you okay? Did the rock attack you again?”

He feels a flash of minor annoyance, but he can’t ignore the way your smile pulls at his own lips. “Shut it.”

“It’s been picking on you all day.” You chuckle, coming closer, letting him see the way you bite your tongue and hold it between your teeth to keep yourself from saying much more. “Aha, sorry. I don’t get to tease you like this often.”

“Yeah, sure.” He closes the distance, grip tightening around the jacket he brought for you in case it got cool. “What are you doing around here? I thought you came outside to get some fresh air.”

“I did, but then I remembered that I left you with them and that didn’t seem like a good idea.” You both glance toward the door, lips quirking at the raucous laughter that comes from inside, almost as if to prove your point. “At the very least, you should have someone to…”

You suck air through your teeth, trying to find the words, so he tries supplying them for you.

“Should I have someone to protect me from them?” He likes the sound of your laugh, the way it bounces between you two before settling on his skin.

“I was thinking more along the lines of, ‘you should at least have someone to interpret what they’re saying,’ but sure. Protect works too.” Even when drunk, you’re thinking of him and how to include him. Even when you’re drunk, you’re thinking about working.

“You don’t need to do that. It’s your birthday celebration. You should have fun.”

“I am having fun. You’re lots of fun.”

How do you do that so easily? Heat spreads across his cheeks, settling on the tips of his ears and the back of his neck and his mouth goes dry before he runs his fingers through his hair, thinking of what to say.

“You know, you switch to English a lot when you’re drunk.”

Yep. Awesome. Awesome response, Kazuya.

He watches as the realization hits you—the way you tilt your head to the left as you’re trying to remember, the slow opening of your mouth and raising of your brows before your hand covers your mouth in surprise. “No! What? Have I really?”

A laugh escapes him at your reaction and he feels a little bad when you bury your face in your hands. It’s not often he sees you this unguarded and animated. He’s still laughing when he starts pulling at your fingers, gently prying them away from your face as you eke out an apology. He won’t admit it to you, but he enjoys witnessing these tiny mistakes from you, little hints of proof that there’s more to you than he’s yet to learn.

You once told him you’re an open book, but he’s surprised by how deep the book actually is.

“Seriously. I hardly ever hear you speak so much English unless we’re doing interviews for the media.”

“Yes, almost like that’s entirely by design or something!” Your groan turns into a laugh before you turn away from him, leaving his hand to fall away from yours. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go take a swim until I hit land again.”

Three steps away and his hand is wrapping around your wrist, remembering why he came out here in the first place. Glancing over your shoulder at him, you smile, pulling your arm (and him) forward. “You’re not gonna try to stop me, are you?”

“With how much you’ve had to drink tonight? You definitely need a chaperone.” You wriggle your wrist free, though you slide your hand into his, filling the spaces between his fingers with yours.

“And you wanna be my chaperone? Miyuki. Listen. You’re an absolute baseball genius but I have seen you on the sand today. I’m much better suited to be your chaperone instead.”

“Oi! It was you who assumed I was any good at soccer in the first place.” Snickering beside him, you pull toward the stairs that lead to the sand, stumbling on the first step. His left arm comes out to stabilize you and the grip of his right tightens around your fingers and all it does is make you laugh more. “Who’s tripping over their own feet now, huh?”

Your fingers squeeze his and, when he glances over, you’re sporting a wide, carefree smile, one he’s only recently started seeing more of. Warmth blossoms from where you two touch, quickly spreading from his tingling fingers up his arm, gathering in the center of his chest. It’s impossible to be around you right now.

Looking out at the beach, he finds the minuscule moonlight barely bouncing off the waves in the distance, otherwise leaving everything in the dark. Despite how clear the skies were during the day, clouds have since taken hold in the sky, making everything feel closer than it is. Despite the darkness ahead that threatens to consume everything, it’s like you provide your own source of light, just for the two of you.

All giggles and energy beside him, nearly bounding from the last step once you reach it, only stopping because you’re tethered to him. His grip on your hand loosens and he refuses to acknowledge the fuzzy feeling in his chest when you ignore his offer to let you go, keeping your hand in his. Still, you pull at him, urging him forward at your pace on the uneven terrain.

“You’re such a child,” he says.

“I’m a child? I’m older than you. What does that say about you?”

“That I’m a victim of circumstance.”

Stopping in your tracks, you pull your hand from his grasp, he thinks he said something wrong, but there’s a smile on your lips as you bend down. “You? A victim? You, Miyuki Kazuya, are a great many things, but ‘victim’ isn’t one of them.”

It takes a moment too long before he registers that you’re fiddling with the fastening of your shoes.

“Oi, oi. Don’t take those off.” Looking up at him, you stick out your tongue, not ceasing your efforts to free yourself from your shoes. “You’re gonna complain about your feet being sandy when we reach those steps again.”

“Oh, boo. Let me have some fun.”

He catches himself halfway through running his fingers through his hair, smoothing the rest of it over to stop the nervous tic. “Are you gonna blame me when your feet hurt later?”

You’re silent for a bit, biting your tongue as you think before coming to a decision. “I’ll try not to.” It’s only a second or two more before you’ve successfully freed yourself from your shoes. Looking up at him, you give him a smile that means nothing good, though you wait before stepping away from your shoes. “Miyuki? You’ll let me have fun tonight, right? I hardly ever get to do stuff like this.”

Kazuya’s not sure what it is, but something about the way you ask has his heart kicking up a gear. “Agh, fine.” A false concession, but it keeps a smile on your face. “Just for tonight.”

“Good. I’ll hold my complaints till tomorrow, then!”

And you’re off, jumping up and away from your shoes with little regard for the sand you’ve inadvertently kicked everywhere. The skirt of your dress swishes as you move, catching his eye as it does. He looks away when you carelessly bend over, grabbing your shoes before starting to skip toward the shore.

“Hey! That’s not the agreement.”

“It is now,” you call, the sound of the ocean drowning out your laugh. Only once you’ve reached where the sand grows wet do you pause, looking his way. There’s still a wide smile plastered across your face and his chest grows tight as you step closer to the water.

He picks up his pace, anxiety creeping up on him at the thought of you nearing this massive, black body of water, only spiking when he hears your sharp shriek as the cold water laps at your toes. Despite the chill, you step deeper still until your feet are consistently covered.

Kicking off his shoes, he can’t keep his eyes off of you—the way your dress barely moves with the briefest breeze and the way you subtly shift your weight from one foot to the next as you try to grow accustomed to the cold that contrasts with what little warmth remains. The clouds pass, revealing more of you to him and he’s a little surprised at how much energy you still seem to have.

The sand is cool against his feet, meaning the water is that much colder, but he doesn’t particularly care about that right now. The closer he steps toward you, the less worry he feels for your safety and the more anxiety he feels for something entirely different. You shiver and he remembers the jacket in his hand, taking a moment to place it on your shoulders.

You start, almost as if you had forgotten him, but your smile suggests otherwise. He takes his place beside you, wondering how the hell you’re staying so quiet when the water is fucking freezing.

There’s a light out on the horizon, something that goes in and out with the waves, something to stare at when he becomes too aware of your presence next to him. Clouds pass over the moon again, making everything ahead go pitch black, leaving him with naught but the beating of his heart, the light in the distance, and the burning of his fingertips.

“I like it out here, you know?” Your voice is low enough that it’s almost lost among the lapping of the sea on the shore. The clouds continue to move and the moonlight comes back, letting him look at you while you continue to look ahead.

He’s struck by the memory of you two when you two first properly met. The rain that poured, driving everyone inside while you remained outside, under the cover provided by the building. The way you watched him with a curious look on your face as he tried to make himself as presentable as possible for the start of contract negotiations. The quiet ‘good morning’ and the comment about the weather just before he remembered where he knew you from.

“You like the rain, too.”

As you turn to look at him, he wonders whether you remember it, too. Despite you working with Wynd Academy for the Tokyo Senbatsu reunion, despite you again working with Tetsu during his negotiations, despite all of the little almosts that could have swayed him… He wonders whether you remember the first words you two actually exchanged with one another. The smile that shapes your lips is softer, one that, again, reminds him of when you two stood out in the rain together.

“Yeah, I do.”

The ocean captures your attention again and he enjoys the silence that falls.

“Hey, Miyuki?”

“Hn?”

“What made you choose me?”

“What?”

“When we came back from Japan. What made you stick with me as your interpreter?”

There’s a draw, an invisible pull that makes him want to look at you. When he does, you’re already watching him, head tilted, unsure of what you’re asking. Or perhaps unsure of the answer he’ll give?

“You could have chosen anyone else from the firm, but you stuck with me. I saw you looking through the portfolios.”

“Why are you asking? It’s in the past, isn’t it?”

Your gaze shifts away from him, but he has a feeling you’re not watching the waves. “I dunno. It’s something I’ve always wondered about and… never mind. It’s fine.”

He hates when you do that. “And?”

The breeze mixes with the waves as it passes, almost taking your reluctant sigh with it. “I thought I pissed you off with how demanding I was at first. I remember you looked so annoyed and I wanted to crawl into a hole.”

He snickers, trying to apply what you’ve just told him to the woman he met in Japan two years before. From the start, you needed him to be open and to communicate in a way that he couldn’t even muster in his previous relationship. More than once you reminded him of Mei and Kuramochi with how easily you caught onto his lies, even those by omission. Imagining you intimidated by him is laughable.

“Is that funny?”

“Yeah, a little.” He laughs properly when you roll your eyes and frown. “You hardly knew me but you had no problem putting me in my place. It’s funny to think that you wanted to crawl into a hole because of it.”

“Sure, sure. So? If my first impression didn’t ruin you, what made you want to keep me around?”

“That wasn’t my first impression of you.”

“Wasn’t it?” There’s this nervous edge to your voice, accompanied by the tell-tale playing with your nails.

“Did you forget? You were one of the interpreters for the Tokyo Senbatsu. You worked with the kids more, but I remember seeing you around.” You certainly got along with Mei back then. “And then you were who the Giants sent to interpret for Tetsu during his negotiations.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t there for that.”

“I was there at the airport, and Tetsu told us that he wanted to hire you then, too. Why didn’t you take him up?”

Blowing air, you take to chewing the inside of your cheek and turning your face away from him.

“It wasn’t the right timing. I wasn’t going to be able to interpret for him and finish my program if he was going to San Francisco.”

“So if he went to the Dodgers like I did, would you have accepted?”

“No.” You still don’t face him, but your admission sparks a wave of fluttering in him, only heightened by the cold water at his feet.

“What made you choose me, then?”

At this, you turn, challenging him with a smirk. “You didn’t answer my question.”

His smile grows, knowing full well that you’re avoiding answering his question. “You made it very easy for me to trust you.”

Whatever you thought you were going to hear, it’s clear that wasn’t it. That challenge in your eyes fades, your smile losing its edge as it’s colored by disbelief.

“Why do you ask?”

He watches as you take that disbelief and pocket it away with something more tender, something you’re not ready to be seen just yet. When you meet his eyes again, it’s with the ghost of a smile playing at your lips. “I’ve always been curious.”

“Is that all?”

You pause, eyes flickering across his face before settling on his again. “Yep.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

“At least you know when I’m not being honest,” you try, starting to step away from him with a borderline mischievous grin. “Very hard for me to lie to you.”

“Yeah?”

Instead of answering him, you turn forward, allowing a silence to build between you both until he can feel the nervous energy that buzzes around you. Unable to stand it, he closes that distance again, nudging your shoulder as he settles. “Now it’s your turn.”

“My turn?”

“Yeah, your turn. You turned down Tetsu, so what made you say yes to me?” Was it because the Dodgers are closer or because they’re the team you and your dad have followed or was it timing or…?

“I don’t know. Maybe because you would be close and the timing was right or—”

“You already admitted that proximity wouldn’t have made you say yes to Tetsu. Was it because it was me?”

“Are you kidding? If I knew it was you, I probably would’ve quit working with the league and gotten a position with the university.” Your laugh is a little self-depreciating and he doesn’t know why. “All I know is that we got the call that the Dodgers needed a Japanese interpreter and I jumped at the opportunity because it was something else to put on my portfolio. I didn’t learn they were courting you until I was already on the plane.”

“You seemed just fine when you greeted me that morning.”

“Aha, yeah. I was so nervous, it kinda just slipped out.”

“Were you really that nervous? I honestly never would have guessed.”

“Good to know. I never expected—” Catching yourself, you look at him, clearly hoping he didn’t hear that. “I didn’t say anything.”

“No, you can’t just start that and then pretend like you didn’t say anything.”

“I can and I will.”

“No, for real, you can’t pretend like I didn’t hear that. Finish your thought.”

He watches as you try to edge yourself away, but he’s quick to wrap his arms around your waist to keep you from getting more than two feet away.

“Ooh, no you don’t.”

Squirming in his hold does nothing but make him pull you closer, trapping you against his chest. When he tries to get you to look at him, you hide your face in your palms again, failing this time because you’re still holding your shoes. The more you squirm, the closer he pulls you to him until you’re effectively trapped back to chest, laughing to yourself as he brings his lips level to your ear.

“What didn’t you expect?”

You shiver and he hears a muffled, “You aren’t making this any easier.”

“Why would I do that when you’re trying to hide something from me?”

“I’m not trying to hide anything.”

“Oh, yeah? Then you can tell me, right?”

“Kazuya, please—”

“Kazuya?” You freeze in his arms and his heart stutters in his chest—full-on stalling out, struggling to make it to the next gear, demanding more power to keep going. He hears the apology tumble out of your mouth in a rush, so he tells you, “I like it when you call me that.”

You stiffen for a moment before leaning into him, letting his words sink in, still feeling his warm breath against the exposed skin of your neck. “You— you are very good at making me do stupid things.”

“You mean to say that I bring out an entirely different level of stupid?”

“Shut up.” You push against his arms with no real effort to get away, but he doesn’t want to cross a boundary, so he loosens his grip. Despite the room to move, you lean into him more, staying where you are.

Is this a stupid thing?

“So? What’s this thing you never expected?”

Shuffling where you stand, he expects you to step away. Opening his arms fully, you surprise him, turning around and pressing your forehead against him.

“I never expected your stupid sense of humor or your stupid laugh or your stupid pretty face or that you would be the exact combination of stupid that would make me stupid.” Your voice is soft, lost somewhere between the night and the fabric of his shirt, but he hears you nonetheless.

“I’d be offended right now if you didn’t just say you find me pretty.” He’d be offended right now if you didn’t just suggest what he thinks you’re suggesting.

“You are pretty. It makes me mad.”

“Me being pretty makes you mad?”

“Very mad.” You move to look at him and he’s expecting a pout, not the serious look in your eyes. Your brows furrow and—yup, there it is—your lips turn into a pout as you continue staring before your gaze shifts to his lips. He thinks it’s just gonna be a moment, just a glance, but it’s not.

Shit.

Your lips part, just a little bit, just enough that he’s slowly inching forward and so are you. Just enough so he feels the shaky little exhale before you close the distance, pressing your lips to his.

You’re—soft. Really soft. Soft in the way you’re pressing against him. Soft in the way you feel when his arms close around you, holding you to him. Soft in the way you move your arms so they’re draped over his shoulders, so your shoes tap against his back, so your fingers brush against the hairs at the nape of his neck. Soft in the way your lips move against his, making him dizzy, making him feel, as you so eloquently put it, stupid.

Then there’s that sound you make, something else that’s soft, something between a whimper and a whine before you flick your tongue against his bottom lip.

Shit.

Another sound when he tries to hold you closer, when his palms spread out across your back, when all he can think and feel and breathe is you. Your fingers tangle in his hair before pulling, giving you a whine in turn and he feels you smile before pulling away for air.

Resting his forehead against yours, his senses slowly come back to him, though they’re still primarily focused on you. The feel of the bunching of the fabric of your dress beneath his fingertips, the racing of his heart in his chest, the cool of the water against his feet. The smell of the salty ocean air and that odd combination of sunscreen and your body wash. The lingering taste of you against his lips, and the little craving to taste more. The sounds of the waves, seemingly in the distance when compared to the beating of his heart and your shaky breathing. The sight of you, of your tongue smoothing over your bottom lip before they close, of your eyelashes touching your cheeks in the lighting provided by the waxing moon, of the slow opening of your eyes and the emotions that follow.

He’s never been good at reading people, especially not their emotional state, and he can’t trust himself to get it right at this moment. He wants there to be hope. He wants there to be acceptance. He wants to see the reciprocated feeling of “fucking finally” because that’s what he’s feeling. He wants it so bad that he can’t trust himself to read you right now.

But he does know he’s not imagining it the moment it hits you.

You release his hair before your hand slides back down his chest, coming to rest on your lips.

That surprise. That fear. That—

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry! I’m your interpreter! I shouldn’t—shit. That was so stupid. Please forgive me.”

All the warmth that built up in his chest leaves with the slow sinking of his heart. Of course. Everything comes back to your job.

“I’m not here as your client.”

Oof, that came off a lot harsher than he meant it to be. He hopes that your little flinch is because of the sudden breeze and not because of him. “You’re not my interpreter right now. You’re my friend.”

But that guilt written all over your face doesn’t go away. “I’m—”

“It’s your birthday, right? Happy birthday.”

You turn your gaze down before you turn your head away slightly. His grip around you loosens and this time you take the smallest step back. Dammit.

“Thank you. I—” You won’t even look at him. “Please forgive me.”

He sighs through his nose and he can feel the crease between his eyebrows as it forms. Turning back toward the shore, he slips his hand in yours.

“There’s nothing to forgive.” It definitely comes out as a bite, though (again) he doesn’t mean it as such. That doesn’t deter you from squeezing his fingers.

You trail behind him for only a minute more before quickening your pace and taking your space beside him. As you grow closer to the stairs heading back to the street, you turn, looking toward the solitary tables near the public bathroom.

“You don’t—”

“Let’s sit,” he interrupts, making it known he’s still with you, even if a large part of you seems intent on trying to move past something he’s wanted for the last year and a half now.

When you look at him, it’s with relief, with that stress and second-guessing slowly melting away. “Thank you.”

Maybe he should take the seat opposite you instead of right beside you, but he’s going to be selfish for as long as you’ll let him.

“I’m not ready to go back inside just yet.” You wait for a response and Kazuya decides it’s better if he doesn’t. “Do you mind… you don’t have to, but I’d like to sit out here for a while longer.”

Instead of offering a verbal response, he relaxes, brushing his thumb over your knuckles.

“Thank you. I think… I think I might still be a little buzzed.”

Yeah, you really can’t lie to him.

“I don’t want to go in there when she’s still awake. I might say something stupid.”

That’s more like it, though he wonders if that “something stupid” will end with your friend giving you a lecture or giving one to him. Lecture or not, he’d prefer to keep your attention for himself.

You chatter on for another ten or so minutes, mostly compelled by your wish to move on from what happened, but eventually, you give in to the silence. It’s another couple of minutes before you rest your head on his shoulder. The two of you sit in silence with the soft promise to leave whenever you’re ready.

The sun slowly rises and he still finds himself on the beach with his hand still interlinked with yours, still hoping that this sea salt flavored kiss won't be the only one you two share.

Daiya no Ace Masterlist

#miyuki x reader #miyuki kazuya x reader #daiya no ace x reader #daiya no a x reader #ace of diamond x reader #✒.ix writes #daiya.✒#tti #✒.the catcher's accomplice #title inspired by a tyler knott gregson poem:#I kiss you and on your lips I taste the sea and the sea has always been home to me.#pls their relationship is so complex and there's so much that happens but it's not ready so I have nothing to share but this little bit #;-;#the boy

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trollprincess · 4 months

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Okay, so some of you might not know this because I did this before I returned to Tumblr from the bird site, BUT. Last year I dictated almost two entire books to my phone.

Let me explain. One of my jobs is a twelve-hour weekend night shift. Six PM to six AM Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, so thirty-six hours with the other four hours paid just as long as we do the entire weekend. I first took it so I could have the rest of the week off, and then proceeded to go back to work at dog camp those days. For the most part, over the last five years, I have only have Mondays completely off solely because that’s when my therapy sessions are.

Anyway, my weekend job is full-time, dog camp is part-time. The weekend job is factory work, making helmets, a lot of which are for the military. (Which, as a pacifist, I manage to stomach because hey, it’s just protective gear.) The thing is, like a lot of manufacturing work, it’s boring and repetitive. Think about how bored you are after five or so hours of an eight-hour shift. Now imagine it’s one o’clock in the morning, you still have five hours to work, and you would literally rather shove nails in your eyes than work. It sucks.

Meanwhile, my free time is spent trying to work at my third job (making @disasterarea-podcast) and attempting to work on getting published. I had all these grand ideas about getting traditionally published back in my twenties, and now I’m 46 and I’m struggling just to come up with any ideas at all a lot of the time. Three jobs doesn’t help. Depression and anxiety don’t help. So for a while there, I had terrible writer’s block when it came to my novels.

So last year, I decided to try something. I have these massive baby-pink noise-canceling Bluetooth gaming headphones with a mic which I wear to work. Why not try dictating a first draft to my phone? Obviously it wouldn’t be exact, since voice-to-text dictation isn’t perfect under the best of situations, and certainly not with loud factory noises around you. But I tried it on dictating notes for my podcast a few times and it worked pretty well, all things considered. And a bad first draft is still a first draft.

So I figured, fuck it, and one night I just started dictating a story off the top of my head. No preparation, no outlining, no worldbuilding - just pantsing HARD with nothing but an annoyance following a Teen Wolf rewatch and a resolution not to edit until after I churned out a first draft.

It took fifty-one days.

Eighty thousand words or so later, I had a dreadful first draft which needed an absolute fuckton of editing and continuity correction and character work. BUT I had a finished first draft of a novel. Which is something I hadn’t had in a good long while.

So I tried it again for NaNoWriMo. I got up to 65k words. So I won NaNoWriMo, but I put the story aside because I hit a bit of a wall. Still! That’s almost two full fiction manuscripts in one year, AND the nonfiction memoir I wrote about my road trip to disaster sites during the pandemic. 2022 was a good writing year.

So I did what I do with first drafts and put them aside for a while. I knew they were awful. I knew they needed a ton of work. And maybe that was a tad intimidating, which is why I only JUST picked up the NaNoWriMo first draft to work on it and finish it off. It’s queer, it’s got time travel, it’s got disasters. It is right up my fucking alley. I may be just a tiny bit obsessed with that story.

Unsurprisingly, going through it now is taking more than a little while. I sit down, I spend an hour working on it, I maaaaaaybe get two paragraphs polished. If that.

But the fact that I’m working on ANY fiction is kind of remarkable. And fingers crossed, maybe I can get this damn thing, and the other manuscript, AND my road trip book, finished and polished over the next year so I can submit the fuck out of them.

NOW. Someone send me a twenty-pound bag of rooibos vanilla chai and ten pounds of red licorice laces. Mama’s gonna need it. *cracks knuckles*

#writing

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itsjustanne · 6 months

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November 3, 2023

Day three of nanowrimo- and I'm fairly on track. I think I'm only about 100 words under the recommended for the day. But I've landed on a title (subject to change!) and a basic cover made on canva to keep me motivated.

So far I'm very proud of myself- I haven't written very much for strictly creative purposes since I took a creative writing elective my junior year of high school (I wrote two fully creative projects and then worked on college application essays for the rest of the semester). I have ideas for some upcoming scenes and I know where I want the story to go. I'm starting to get a feel for the main character and for a character I wasn't expecting to have become a huge part of the story.

I might post an excerpt from what I have so far, so if anyone would like to see it let me know!

#annie talks #mostly to myself #studyblr #history studyblr #art history #studying #history #study motivation #student #history student #nanowrimo #creative writing #writing #art history student #student life #studyspiration #study inspiration #college studyblr

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dragon-swords-prophecies · 5 months

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NaNoWriMo 2023 Day 27: Herald At Dawn

***I'm doing half a nano (25k not 50k) cause I have too much other shit to do (school)***

Today's Word Count/Today's Goal Wordcount: 892/835

Total Word Count: 22,705/25k (91%)

Goal Word Count: 25k

Snippet:

Stretching on her tiptoes, Alex snatched the edge and pulled it down. “Damn,” said Jack, passing by. “That was three or four years ago, wasn’t it?” “If not more,” agreed Alex. In her hands was a flier for an air show that took place on May 23-29, with no year attached. It was unfaded, the map having protected it from the sunlight that streamed through the windows at all hours. There was a sketch drawing of a derrigable, with a child and family staring up at it and grinning. “VISIT THE BURNS BROTHERS’ FLYING CIRCUS, IN VOLIMERE ONE WEEK ONLY!” it proclaimed, in big, bold letters across the top. Alex smiled fondly. She had gone. It had not been everything you imagined the legendary traveling show to be when you were a child, but it had been a wonderful day. She tucked it under a nearby stack of books, and pinned up in the center of the board the front page of the Volimere Daily on the day Grayson’s murder was announced, and next to it today’s edition of The Clockwork Herald, with a massive headline on the front in bold typeface. CITY JUDGE FOUND MURDERED; POLICE HAVE NO SUSPECTS.

Notes: Today I learned that flier is spelled with an 'i', not with a 'y'. This was news to me, and I spent about 15 seconds starting at spellcheck in disbelief. Also, it's above 90% done!!!! whooooooo!! well, in word count anyway. the story is not 90% done at all, which I'm actually really glad about. Normally my draft 0s are lucky to hit 10 or 15k, but this isn't anywhere near done at 22.7k, which is REALLY encouraging as to how this is going to turn out. (my draft 0s are generally about 20-30% of the final word count as best I can tell, so if I'm doing my math correctly this might very well end up somewhere around 85k (at the outside, probably closer to 65-75k) and that would be. holy shit that would be incredible.) (honestly, I'm not quite sure I can call this a draft 0. It's a first draft, properly, which is uh. *vibrates very fast because words are not currently present*).

Taglist (ask to be +/-): @thelaughingstag @gr3y-heron @another-white-void @amethyst-aster

#nanowrimo #nanowrimo 2023 #nano 2023 #wip: herald at dawn #writeblr

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clumsiestgiantess · 7 months

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So I’ve had a cool idea for a new story but it’s hella long and would probably span like three books so I’ve only ever written short snippets for prompts and stuff. With promptober/inktober & nanowrimo coming up, I thought maybe y’all should have a synopsis of the story. This is just so I can share more of my writing and you’ll actually understand what it’s about.

The story opens in a fantasy world that’s sort of medieval, sort of rural town-ish. There’s known magic and monsters and legends and gods that live somewhere too high up to see, like a version of Mount Olympus. The main character is your typical hero’s journey type hero. He’s prophesied to become a great warrior after finding a powerful sword and goes out on a quest to save his village from a famine. His sister doesn’t believe in magic and thinks it’s a wild goose chase. She begs him not to go because he’ll probably die trying, but pressure by the rest of the village convinces him to leave. There’s a legend of forest spirits who have magic that can help them; our hero must slay one and gain the core of its power. The village elders can then use the core to get rid of what’s causing the blight.

After the typical heroic quest fighting monsters and such, he comes across the forest spirit’s rumored home. It’s creepy and derelict, overgrown with strange plants. The hero, while exploring the place, finds a living resident hiding in a collapsed house. A fairy. (fairies in this universe are small, but not crazily small. Our hero is minigiant height compared to her) She’s an eerie sight to be sure, with bug-like features and multiple limbs, but boy is she scared. She knows the rumors about their kind — knows our hero is there to kill her. She would fly away, but they're inside and he’s blocking the door.

Thankfully, the hero realizes she’s no creepy monster, and can’t bring himself to kill her. However, there’s a reason the fairy’s village is so decrepit. Her kind had been infected with a plague of parasitic mushrooms like the ones that infect ants. The mushrooms use the fairies’ cores like magic fertilizer. Just like how the irl mushrooms use ants to carry their growths to a good spot then plant themselves there through the ant’s body, these mushrooms are using the fairies to bring them cores to continue growing itself, like a mind-controlled cult offering. The hero (being the hero he is) uses his powerful sword to kill the giant hivemind mushroom, freeing everyone under its control.

Of course, the fairies are thankful, but they still can’t offer him their power (because it’s in them. They would legitimately have to die and tear the core from their chest.) Our hero’s new fairy friend (& potential love interest) offers to come with him herself and use her magic to help the village. Both he and her kind simultaneously tell her no. People would kill her the moment she stepped into the village. (That’s also the reason she and everyone else couldn’t go for help when the mushroom took over) However, the village comes together to pool their magic and form a talisman of sorts that will keep plants from dying. After a heartfelt goodbye, he leaves the fairies’ village and returns home with the promise to come back and visit.

His own village celebrates his return and everything is better than ever! His sister is glad to have him back safe, but she’s really surprised by the magic. There are good reasons she didn’t believe in it. She’d been doing research while he was away.. she doesn’t believe the gods are, well, gods. (Of course they are! We’ve seen them! They wander by once and a while!) But things don’t add up. It’s… almost like the gods don’t know they exist. They’re giant behemoths. They walk right by looking right out over everything. She’s done every blasphemous thing she can think of in secret; they’re supposed to come drag her off and smite her, but nothing’s happened. Everyone prays for rain from them and expects it to come, but she can tell by patterns in the weather that it’s not going to happen. She knows it’s a bunch of bullshit. Our hero tells her to just keep it to herself, fearing she’ll be exiled for her beliefs, or worse, hung. He doesn’t believe her. She says she can prove it.

(That’s part one) Part two is in the sister’s perspective, happening at the same time as the first part.

After doing the things mentioned above (her trying to see if the gods even know about them), she decides to run off and find out where exactly the gods live. She blames her leaving on trying to find her brother so the village doesn’t get suspicious. After weeks of wandering, her supplies have almost run out and she’s lost. Following the gigantic gods is so hard when they move with such large steps. She’s beginning to fear the worst for herself when a goddess happens to stop nearby. They’re searching for something in the grass. She sneaks over to investigate and finds the goddess is capturing monsters with her bare hands, collecting them like little trinkets. She’s so fascinated by how harmless the monsters appear to the goddess that she doesn’t realize she’s been spotted. Next thing she knows, she’s captured just like the monsters.

As the world of the gods is more fully fleshed out to the reader, its revealed that the gods’ realm that’s too high and far for the people of the village to see is actually a house. The entire fantasy world was nothing but the field in the back between it and the woods. The ‘monsters’ are just more gruesome depictions of small animals and bugs. The fairies.. yeah no the fairies are still real.

The ‘goddess’ is actually just a woman who works on the farm where the ‘fantasy world’ is located. She’d been collecting some new bugs for her pinboard collection with a bit of free time and unknowingly took our tiny main character too. She’s suffocating the bugs one by one, attaching them to new spots on the board absentmindedly. Meanwhile, our main character is scared to death because she’s going to be suffocated and impaled.

Thankfully, the human realizes she’s not a bug and studies her with fascination. At barely two centimeters tall, she can’t understand our mc, and the human’s voice had been so loud and dragged out over the outdoor space that everyone believed the gods spoke in their own language. Through a long process of fear and angst, the two figure out how to communicate, and realize they aren’t that different. Both bond over the fact that our mc was right! She’s very intrigued by all the strange human technology. She wants to go back and tell the village the truth, but realizes she can’t. That would tear apart their entire religion and way of life! And that’s if they believed her. If they didn’t, they’d surely punish her with some sort of gruesome death sentence.

After staying with and befriending the human, she returns to the village because she’s been homesick. Living with everything at such a massive scale can be stressful and tiring. Plus, she wants to at least see her brother if he makes it back. The human offers to bring her close (but not too close) to the village and they make plans on how to contact eachother again. They’ll go on all sorts of small adventures together, searching for her brother and just getting to know and trust one another. When her brother does return, she tells him her theories, he doesn’t believe her, she says she can prove it, and the whole thing ties back together.

(part 3, the fanale)

Back to the ‘present’, our hero curiously follows his sister out on a little adventure, and when they get to the meeting spot, she sets up the message for the human to find. A storm blows in while they wait for a reply and our hero and his sister get separated by rain. Just as he finds his way back to her, he sees she’s being taken away by the human. The human is really just getting her out of harm’s way, unable to hear that she brought her brother along with the noise of the storm. All our hero sees is his sister yelling at a goddess who — as per the stories of those who blasphemy the gods — is being dragged off to nowhere to die.

Our hero immediately seeks help from his fairy friend, the only one who might be powerful enough to bargain with a goddess. When he tries to tell her about it, she just looks at him confused. (What gods? / The giant ones that look like me but massive! Haven’t you seen them before? / You mean the humans? / The what?) Fairies know about humans, and know that they’re unpredictably dangerous. Both mc and fairy are convinced that his sister’s in major trouble and come up with a plan to get her back. Meanwhile, said sister has told the human about the mix up, and they go back to look for her brother but obviously he’s gone.

The two are soon confronted by a rescue party of one concerned brother and fairy duo. The fairy threatens the human with magic, but soon everyone is confused by the sister herself defending the human. Human’s confused because that’s a real actual magic fairy. Fairy’s confused because the human has somehow been tamed. Our hero’s confused because he thought his sister had been kidnapped. His sister’s confused because why does her brother know a forest spirit? (He’d kept that a secret for the fairies’ sake)

After a long explanation from all sides, everyone calms down and hangs out at the human’s house, staying the day because that day was exhausting and no one really wants to go back home. When they do, they come up with a plan: they’ll let the village know that the world isn’t as scary as it seemed. The spirits in the woods are actually really friendly, and the towering gods are just them but bigger, no ethereal powers whatsoever.

They do try to get everyone to communicate, and things go pretty well. It takes people some time to understand, but utopia is beginning to form as everyone shares technology and achievements. The smaller people (They’re what’s called a cight, tiny humans that can see and predict the future to an extent) are far more inventive and ahead of the fairies’ time (though the fairies do have magic), and the human’s technology is ahead of both, though they could also learn quite a lot from the other civilizations.

Things are going well until the brother/sister duo gets kidnapped. It’s the original village elders who’d mysteriously disappeared before anyone could question them on why their ‘knowledge’ was wrong. The truth is: they knew all along, and have reasons for keeping everyone apart.

Before their village was established, before they even knew humans existed, their kind forsaw the ‘end of the world’. It would be caused by an event just like this, where all three beings would try to come together in peace. In those old times, no one had even seen another being that looked different to them, but as humans expanded and territories moved closer together, they began to see eachother so the elder lineage decided to do something to stop the coming together of all beings. They created the belief that fairies would use their magic to overtake them, and turned them into monsters to be slain for a reward. They turned humans into uncaring sacrifice-demanding gods as an excuse to get rid of people who might find out the truth.

The elders of this day forsaw our hero’s sister finding out the truth about humans, but also saw that she wouldn’t reveal the truth unless she had her brother around to confide in. Therefore, they made up the prophecy that he was meant to be a hero and sent him away on some silly quest to a place they thought he would never return from — the fairies’ village. (Before the mushroom takeover, if someone found a fairy the collective would imprison them in their village to stop people from revealing where they live. They’ve done this with both humans and cights. The elders knew where it was because they have foresight) However, once our hero returned there wasn't enough time to prevent him from coming across the human.

Now in every single future they see, the humans eventually wipe everyone out. The siblings argue that the human wouldn’t tell anyone, but it doesn’t matter according to the elders. Apparently, either the others who know the human get suspicious of them and find the village, or the next humans who live there sell the farmland and everything gets plowed under to build more houses. There are other less likely scenarios, but many of them end with someone getting too curious for their own good and accidentally trying to befriend a horrible human. It might not happen this generation, or the next, or the next, but the two siblings have sealed their fate by revealing the truth. Inevitably their kind will go extinct by the human race. Shortly followed by the fairies.

The story will end on a hopeful note after defeating/escaping the elders. Everyone lives at peace and the human does their best to keep everything secret, only keeping the knowledge within the family line of trusted successors. Though I guess I’d leave it up to the reader whether or not the ‘end of the world’ comes to pass or was avoided by everyone working together.

Thats it, that’s the thing. I told you it would be too long to write.

#I call this one Fantasy/Reality #g/t #giant tiny

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diggingupgrave · 9 months

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Magnificently Cursed... the blog post ✨

🕰🍂🕯🌿📔🧣🌙

My writing log says it’s been exactly a year since I started writing Magnificently Cursed, my Dark Academia Inuokko Magic School AU! I find summer to be insufferable (my apologies to the sun) so I took an escape hatch to an early fall last year and immediately fell down this massive rabbit hole. Not only did I write the whole fic and make overly-intricate graphics for each chapter… I also made a ton of other content that I simply didn’t have enough time to post! (Fall is but one season… unless you’re me, and it’s two, because fuck summer) So as a little anniversary gift to me, I’m going back through the archives and finally putting everything in one place.

Let’s start with the character mood boards, shall we?

Toge Inumaki:

I wanted Toge to have an earthy/natural, vintage-y feel, while Yuuta was all sleek and new. I’m still completely obsessed with this library-lizard aesthetic for Toge.

I low-key wound up buying a brown sweater after searching online for literal hours just like the one in the upper left so we could twin. That duffle coat still has my whole heart. Lavender mug inspired by Neara 🥺

Yuuta Okkotsu:

The lil ghostie patch 😭 I still think Yuuta would look hot as hell in all these clothes- especially the speckle-y fisherman sweater. Coat game is strong here as well.

... so is it obvious that I spend too much time on Canva yet? 😅

The Timeline:

My outline wasn’t outlining and I resorted to making an in-world calendar to make sure the dates were realistic. Each chapter is a different color, and the lines represent what days the chapters covered in-world. The corresponding stars represented each chapter’s posting dates… except the real life dates didn’t line up with the fictional dates (rude), so those thursdays were actually saturdays? I think? I'm actually not 100% sure what past me was up to here, to be totally honest 😅

(also, politely ignore that bit that says “epilogue - december” 💀i’ll get to it when i get to it. I don’t really like the idea of it being *over* so maybe i'll just gatekeep that bit forever)

⬆️ Example of aforementioned “outlining,” which, yes, is unfortunately littered with as many potential tweets as actual organization 💀

Not pictured: the outline for the first three chapters… when i thought this fic… would only *be* three chapters. 🪦

Writing Log:

I wrote all 92k between July 13th and September 13th (including 60k in August, nanowrimo style)!

Honestly would love to know what her regimen was because i immediately went back to being slow and undisciplined. I don’t foresee this coming august looking anything like this, lol.

Also, sidenote, hilarious that I took a break to work on it would make a whole in the middle of this? Because I literally just finished that piece this week and posted it today 😅

The Playlist:

Spotify proving that July 13th commitment! If you start a wip without procrastinating and making a playlist for two hours first... did you really start a new wip?

The playlist was three and a half hours and i would listen to it nearly every day, sometimes multiple times in a day 💀. Listen during a rainstorm for peak vibes.

(other favs not pictured: The Butterflly Effect’s cover of “Lay All Your Love on Me,” Sabrina Carpenter’s “Decode,” Liz Longley’s “Rescue My Heart,” and "Nothing's Gonna Happen" by The Staves)

Bonus:

(fall baking... toge's fav pumpkin muffins of course)

(my toge sweater knockoff)

(editing buddy... clearly working very hard)

(cider donut cider... for the ✨vibes✨)

(obsessively drinking massive pots of harney and son’s victorian london fog tea as i tried to interpret my own bullshit)

(me celebrating actual halloween like i didn't start in july)

.... ANYWAY (if you made it this far 😅) many thanks to anyone who read/kudos/commented/supported this fic, because (if you can't tell already) i had so much fun writing it.

Currently, working on another longfic rn that's also promising to destroy my life... but you never forget your first 😘

#jujutsu kaisen #toge inumaki #yuuta okkotsu #inuokko #dark acamedia

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meaninglessblah-writes · 5 months

Note

This took way to long to figure out

☕ Tim ☕ Tim :D

😈 “You can take it.”

ah whatever I've been brainrotting over Collars for ages now let's put them in here too

🎪 Collars

Thank you for helping me work towards my Nanowrimo goal! 💙

Tim tries to hang his head, and groans when he butts up against the hard, rubber edge of the collar locked around his throat.

"This isn't necessary," he says, for what feels like the umpteenth time. The electrode pads glued to his temples itch with the sweat and blood drying there. The connected cables hum every time he turns his head.

Tim rolls his wrists in their rubber-lined cuffs, and tries not to think about why steel restraints might need rubber insulation. His breath hitches a little nonetheless, when he turns his head towards the figure whose hands are moving over the control panel, flicking levers with calm fluency.

"This isn't necessary," Tim repeats, imploring. He rocks forward on his knees, ignoring the pressure that puts on his outstretched arms. "You don't have to do this."

It's not the figure ignoring Tim that speaks. Its the mercenary sat in a chair across the room, watching the proceedings with blistering amusement. "I forgot how much you talk under pressure."

Now that his role in taking Tim down is fulfilled — and Tim can still feel the ache of three fractured ribs from where the mercenary bodily slammed him over a metal railing before tossing him down a stairwell — Slade seems perfectly content to spend his time needling his counterpart. Tim hasn't been able to ignore how cloyingly intimate their exchanges have been.

The figure turns to scowl at Slade through the loose strands of his dark fringe. "I don't talk under pressure."

Slade lounges, one ankle hooked over his knee and wrist hooked over the edge of the table he's sat next to. "Yes, you do. It's comforting, actually. Good to know you're consistent at every point in your timeline."

"Feel free to shut up at any time," the figure tosses coldly over his shoulder, turning one last dial on the panel. Behind Tim, the hulking machine whirs to life, and fear twists his gut.

He pulls on his restraints again, frantically rechecking for any weakness he could have forgotten to exploit as he implores, "I don't have anything you could need."

He should know by now that he's too thorough to leave himself any hope of escape. When the figure approaches, crouching down to his height with a soft smirk, Tim knows his fate is sealed.

"We both know that's a lie," his older self purrs. Tim can't help but pick at their differences, stark in how similar they are.

Same ice blue eyes, narrower on his counterpart, hardened with a a decade of chagrin. Longer hair, that speaks to countless nights spent fretting, thin fingers tugging on the strands as he poured over problem after problem.

Tim thinks his counterpart might be thinner, but he's not sure. He doesn't want to think about how far he must have fallen to stoop to this level. But he aches with the need to know.

The older Tim reaches up, gloved fingers reapplying the electrodes at his temples, pressing them to the soft curve of his skull, behind where his hair is just beginning to grow long.

"He might bite through his tongue," his counterpart calls back to Slade, almost conversational.

Slade hums. "It's only eighty milliamperes. You could take it."

The other Tim's smile is smug when he glances over his shoulder at the mercenary. "I've weathered worse. He's still fresh."

His hands fall away from Tim's scalp to adjust the cables where they link up to the electrodes.

"How did I end up a supervillain?" Tim asks, to keep him talking.

The other Tim scoffs. His eyes are wicked and amused when he lifts a brow. "It's a shorter jump than you realise. Or maybe you do realise," he adds knowingly, when Tim's jaw tightens.

Fingers cross from the electrodes to take Tim's jaw between thumb and forefinger. Tim tries to wrench himself free, but the collar and his counterpart's persistence stifles him. The other Tim's expression is a muddle of mirth and certainty, and Tim hates how it pierces straight through him.

"Maybe you don't want to admit how close it is," the older Tim whispers, and he's so close that his lips brush Tim's on his inhale. The fascination in those ice blue eyes is scalding, and mesmerising. Tim doesn't know if he's trying to lean into or away from his own touch.

"I don't remember hearing much in the way of protest from you," Slade interjects, the rumble of his voice fond. It's distracting, Tim's attention draw back to dissecting exactly what sort of relationship they have.

"Where do you come in?" Tim challenges, but he's cut off by his older counterpart's sharp bark of laughter.

"I forgot how naïve I was," he hums. The press of his lips is sudden, and forceful. Tim protests, pulling back when a tongue pushes past his surprise. The collar bites, and so does his counterpart. When he pulls away, Tim's blood stains his lower lip. He looks hungry for more.

"It was a cute look on you," Slade confirms. "Those big blue eyes, pleading for me to help you find the big ol' Bat. You grew out of that fast."

Tim's head jerks around so hard he breaks the other Tim's grip on him. "What?"

His older self pushes upright, stepping away from Tim and the machine that has been powering up to a nauseatingly pitched hum. "You'll find out soon enough."

"How soon?" Tim demands, as he approaches the panel. The cuffs cut at his wrists, his desperation showing as he tries to keep his cryptic self talking. "What does he mean by that?"

His counterpart presses a heavy button in, adjusting the dial slightly. Tim's heart feels like it's beating a mile a minute, as his other self crosses comfortably to Slade's side.

The arm he drapes over the mercenary's shoulder has Tim’s mind spinning; but it’s nothing compared to when Slade wraps around his older self's hip, pulling him in close. Tim feels like his jaw might be touching the floor. He doesn't want to admit to himself all that he sees.

His counterpart smiles, like he knows Tim knows. His voice is kinder, when he calls, "If you survive this in-tact, we might even show you why you will choose him. Every time."

The last thing Tim sees, before the electricity spikes through his grey matter and his vision goes white, is Tim's lips lowering to kiss Slade's. And Slade's face upturning to meet him.

3,914 / 50,000

Help me reach my goal!

#meaninglessblah answers #meaninglessblah conquers nanowrimo #deepwithintheabyss

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agirlandherquill · 1 month

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(This is alwri-tes because you can't send an ask from a sideblog oof-) Your writing snippets are sooo good! Are they part of a larger story? If so, what is the overview of this story?

allow me to just make sure my quill's filled with ink - oh, it is? right then, here I go,

hi! thank you so much for asking this - and to answer it, yes, my writing snippets are part of a larger story (or in my case two, which I will explain momentarily) - before joining tumblr about two months ago i had never heard someone use the term 'writing snippets' except for myself, so thank you writeblr for the giggle it gives me every time i see it - anywho, moving on to the larger story, well technically stories;

there are two novels from which i take snippets and post:

'Ruin's Reprisal' - the posts that include the title and usually a chapter number stem from this

The second is 'A Deal of Daggers' - this one is a little trickier for me to reference a chapter seeing as i'm in the stage of what I like to call joyful chaos, I have a scrivener document stuffed to the brim with snippets, some short, others significantly larger, as you can probably tell from the varying lengths of my posts; I haven't yet gotten around to writing this novel in order, seeing as I'm undergoing a complete rewrite of what was an incomplete manuscript (an incomplete 500-paged manuscript, may i add), but I'm slowly getting around to doing so,

and to respond to the second question - the overviews: Ruin's Reprisal is undergoing edits at the moment, i'm roughly on chapter 7/42, but in terms of plot it's there, it's all good to go and eager to be spilled from the confines of my mind and the very large scrivener doc (I'm at 210k words at this moment in time), and so without further ado, the overview:

'Disgrace. Servant. Murderer.

Three people with nothing in common, except that they were wronged.

And now, they’re willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. Which means taking the one thing that their society rests on; its sins, its saints, its deaths and broken dreams.

The unlikely band of criminals are going to steal the crown.

Everything depends on one heist. Take the crown. Free themselves.

Will any of them survive? Or will they fall to the country that took everything from them?

Only time will tell.

And they’re running out of it.'

incredibly vague I know, but it's a little blurb i enjoyed coming up with, and as for the plot, well, that's slowly unravelling itself on Tumblr, as and when I find myself with the time to write, but one day hopefully I'll be an indie author - knowing me i'll stick the novel on ao3, (wouldn't be the first time), or if I get incredibly lucky, a published one,

but truth be told, 'Ruin's Reprisal' has grown up with me, it's been a labour of love since around 2019 I believe, it's undergone many, many changes, and I only completed the first draft as part of nanowrimo last year (and then some, I completed the full draft on New Year's Eve which was funny timing) and it's a story of loss, of growth, discovery and new beginnings - something that relates a little to the likes of youth itself, and there are moments in this story when the characters lose it, and in all honesty, I did too, but it's thriving and I hope to complete the novel by the summer (a rather ambitious deadline I might add, not to mention the many I've tried and surpassed long ago),

and as for 'A Deal of Daggers', i came up with the idea a couple of years ago, I wanted to write something a little darker than 'Ruin's Reprisal', with characters that had more matureness, more rawness to their beings, I craved a story that left me clinging to my keyboard for dear life at times as I wrote it and in many ways, it has. Even though it's a skeleton idea, it has cemented its place in my heart for eternity, and the more I write the more I come to love it and the characters, Reid and Isolde, to name the main few.

As for the overview, well, as I mentioned before it's in a state of joyful chaos, but, I can tell you it involves a contract, a murder, a betrayal, treason and of course danger - dangers of the heart included, because who doesn't adore a little tension every now and then?

and as a final note I'd like to say thank you, not only for asking this but for liking my writing too, this goes to everyone who has seen my posts and enjoyed them - there's nothing nicer than knowing that not only do I enjoy something that I do, but others enjoy it too,

and so I will send this off into the world of writeblr and disappear back into the fever-dream of life, scrivener, chaos and music forever playing in my ears,

~ A Girl and Her Quill

#writeblr #writing #creative writing #fiction #novel #writer #writinganovel #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #writer things

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duskyashe · 1 year

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NaNoWriMo Day #16

[masterlist] [part one] [part three] [part four]

=============‹«⟨·•★•·⟩»›=============

Bruce sat in the bat cave, long after he'd sent his kids to bed. In his hands were the batarangs Phantom had gifted him. They were unnaturally cold in his hands, but the chill never became painful. In fact, it was strangely almost comforting.

Thinking back on Phantom, Bruce wasn't sure what to make of their meeting. The kid seemed to be a few years younger than Tim, and had all but told them he was being hunted. Phantom had come to them seeking protection from someone, or multiple someones, for himself and four others, most of which were kids. On one hand, it made his heart ache, knowing these kids had to run from their previous homes, their "haunt". On the other hand, Phantom's genuine belief that they were something beyond human was obvious and more than a bit unsettling (he ignored the part of him that reveled in that belief, the part that had him on edge before an Arkham breakout, the part that saw Phantom and whispered "other, different, like me".)

His kids had held similar reservations, though they'd all agreed Phantom wasn't a threat. His gifts, though obviously magical and not human in nature, had felt benign and were reasonably well thought out, and though the level of research each gift had symbolized was slightly worrying, Babs had assured them she'd closed all the holes in their internet security those gifts had exposed. In the end, they'd all agreed to honor Phantom's request for refuge. The kid's relief was profound and practically soul deep, which reassured Bruce they'd made the right choice.

As Bruce fiddled with his new batarangs, which held a very faint green sheen at the edges, he remembered the moment his "feeling" had reached its peak. Something had changed, something big, when he'd accepted Phantom's gifts. He still didn't know what, exactly, had happened, but he'd felt some sort of shift in the energy Gotham exuded, in his children, in him. He had felt the sense of connection between him and his children grow ever so slightly stronger, and he knew they'd felt it, too.

Bruce flipped the batarang in his dominant hand and caught it with ease, returning it to the holster with a sigh. Whatever Phantom was, whoever he was running from, whatever his presence meant for his family, and Gotham as a whole, Bruce had a feeling they'd be crossing paths with him again soon.

=============‹«⟨·•★•·⟩»›=============

Danny phased invisibly into his and Jazz's apartment, turning human as he sat at the table with a thoughtful frown on his face. Jazz looked over at him from the stove, a questioning look on her face, though she didn't pry, which he was thankful for. He needed to gather his thoughts before he explained what had happened tonight.

When Jazz placed a bowl of spaghetti in front of him, Danny took a deep breath. "You owe Sam ten bucks," he started, smiling at Jazz's soft curse. "Condor is definitely connected to death, but they're equally connected to life, and the only being or creature we know of that is perfectly balanced between life and death, that isn't a halfa, is a phoenix. They also don't have that slimy, necromantic feel liches are supposed to."

Jazz hummed as she swallowed her mouthful. "What about the others? How close were we on our guesses of them?"

"Well, Batman is definitely a guardian deity, and Gotham is definitely his territory. Ibis, who I actually interacted with, was also spot on, definitely a kitsune. You should have seen them move, Jazz, it was almost ethereal how gracefully they moved. Oh, and Starling? Definitely at least related to banshees. I don't think they're a true banshee, because that connection to death wasn't there, but they're at least related to banshees." Danny paused to take a few bites before continuing. "I think Signal is a Will-o'-the-wisp, actually. You know how I thought they'd be a vengeful spirit? Having been in their presence, I gotta say, not very vengeful. Very mischievous, somewhat malicious, but mostly protective, strangely enough. Same with Raven, they practically ooze protective vibes, along with some very pointed trickster energy. I think Raven might be some sort of protection based deity, under Batman's authority, with strong trickster leanings, which is an interesting mix in my opinion. Oh, and Robin is definitely fae, they've got a very ethereal look to them, paired with their grace and general mischievousness, there's no doubt. BlackBat is more difficult to say. I think they're either a shape changing shadow wolf or otherwise just living shadows. Even when they were illuminated by my glowy self, I could barely see them. It was trippy, I'll tell you that much right now."

They continued eating in silence for a bit before Jazz asked, "So am I signing the full lease tomorrow, or are we moving on?"

Danny grinned. "Oh no, we're good. Batman actually told me to get the others here as soon as possible." His grin mellowed to a small, warm smile. "I think he's worried about them, Jazz. When I mentioned only two of us were currently in Gotham because the others weren't able to come with us when we left, he asked if we needed help getting them here. He seemed to relax when I told him we had a plan and that they were just waiting for the go-ahead from our end."

"Are you going to call them after we finish dinner, then?" Jazz asked, taking another bite.

Danny nodded. "Yeah, Ellie will grab them in the middle of the night. They'll wait until morning with Frostbite before portaling in so we can get the lease signed." He paused, stirring his spaghetti absentmindedly as he thought. "I think," he started haltingly. "I think the bat clan aren't actually aware they're not human."

Jazz paused, spaghetti falling off her fork and back into her bowl as she stared at him in shock. "What do you mean, how could they not know their own natures? You guys pegged them as eldritch beings as soon as you discovered them, they have to know!"

"I don't know, they just. They didn't seem to understand why I was giving them gifts or behaving the way I was. They also looked very confused at a few of my gifts, like they weren't sure why I'd chosen that specific thing for them, even though it makes sense for what kind of being they are!" Danny huffed. Then he sighed. "If they don't actually know what they are, then someone needs to explain it to them. They deserve to know what they are, especially because some of their species have very specific instincts that could be very confusing, even terrifying, for someone who thinks they're human. I... Should I offer to teach them more about themselves next time I see them?"

Jazz looked at him with a small smile. "If you think they'd be receptive to it, I think that'd be for the best, especially if you're right about them thinking they're human. I highly doubt we'll be the only Fright to seek asylum here, after all."

Danny nodded. "Then tomorrow night, I'll make the offer. If we get kicked out because I offend them, then at least we'll all be together."

=============‹«⟨·•★•·⟩»›=============

This would have been longer, or at least done sooner, if I hadn't had an ocular migraine come out of nowhere earlier today (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠) but after a two hour nap, I could actually see again, so I was finally able to get to work on this ficlet! ✧⁠\⁠(⁠>⁠o⁠<⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠✧ I had a lot of fun coming up with what the members of the Batfam had managed to become due to the entire city believing them to not be human (⁠◡⁠ ⁠ω⁠ ⁠◡⁠) Jason was fun, cuz I hadn't really thought about what exactly liches were before, so when I realized that Voldemort from Harry Potter was basically a textbook lich, I knew I had to change my initial plan for Jason (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ but hey, now he gets super strength and the ability to heal himself from anything, including death! Much better than being able to create essentially undead thralls lol (⁠◠⁠‿⁠◕⁠)

I'm seriously hoping to continue this into at least one more part, with the Bats coming to terms with and learning more about their new supernatural status, possibly even the Justice League initiating contact with the distinctly not human protectors of Gotham, but we'll have to see what prompts I find (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

OH! ALSO! I'm so close to reaching 200 followers! When I do, I'm thinking of celebrating somehow, but I'm not sure what to do. If any of you have any ideas, please, let me know! I might take your suggestion to heart (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆ also, if I get to 260 by the 26th of this month, I'll do another celebration lol

Y'all are awesome, thank you so much! I've got some more people who asked to be tagged in this continuation, so here's hoping I get them all again! @airis-hunter, @little-pondhead, @stealingyourbones, @crystallicedart, @summerfox1988, @minnesota-fats, @edgemcjee, @fire-glass, @f4nd0m-fun, I think you all asked to be tagged (or at least heavily implied it) if I continued my fake cryptids real ghosts au, so here ya go!

Have a good morning/day/night!

#danny phantom #batman #dc x dp #dp x dc #fanfic #dp crossover #dp au #fanfiction #nanowrimo 2022 #NaNoWriMo Day 16 #dp/dc week 2022 #i have so many thoughts #guys duke is now a Will-o'-the-wisp #and Bruce is a freaking god now #so is Dick #honestly Dick almost was a tengu from Japanese mythology but i thought #because he's been Batman's companion the longest #he should also get to be a deity #so boom dick is Gotham's god of mischief and childhood protection #Tim is actually also in the process of ascending to deity-hood #he's still a kitsune at the moment but once Ibis is better established he'll ascend lol #Damian is a mix of different fae beings and it's all because he became Robin right before Gotham's belief hit critical mass #if Tim had still been Robin at that time then he'd be a fae instead of a kitsune but nope it's Damian lol #and because the Bats don't kill Steph isn't actually a banshee #she's technically something new that is related to banshees #she's basically a banshee if a banshee's call didn't predict death but defeat via a punch to the face #and yes Babs is an actual Oracle lol Bruce is the god that gave her her power she's literally Batman's Oracle #no seriously do a quick Google search this actually checks out she's actually a real oracle in this au lol #Cass is living shadows confirmed #i couldn't resist she's just too good at blending in with her surroundings

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a-pale-azure-moon · 7 months

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WIP Wednesday

It's done.

There will be revisions and tweaks to make between now and when I post it in a few days, but I have finished the final chapter of Someday We'll Shine Together. At long last, it is complete.

I'm struggling to distill all of my emotions into words at the moment. This fic has been a part of my life for about three years now. I'm feeling accomplished and proud of myself for really and truly finishing it despite the fact that when I first had the idea, I was convinced this was another of those fleeting inspirational flashes that would never go anywhere and would forever languish in my WIP folder. I got very attached to this story in the process of creating it, and I got even more attached to it when it was one of the things that helped see me through a very difficult time in my personal life. As such, I'm also grieving that it's over and that I now must let it go. Sure, it'll always exist for me to revisit whenever I want, but that feeling is never the same as the one derived from actively working on it.

While I'm still digesting all of these emotions, here's a rough timeline and some background of the fic's development, so you can all see how I finally got to this point. This is pretty personal too, because the two are irrevocably intertwined. (Content warning: death/grief)

Summer 2020: Initial inspiration hits after I rewatched Utena during COVID lockdown.

Fall 2020: Brainworms are on-and-off active, writing short blurbs in a Google doc when they come to me, but there's no true shape to the whole plot yet, it’s just random scenes. It's more or less still strictly a 3H-esque retelling of Utena, and I'm not expecting anything to actually come of these blurbs.

Winter 2020: More blurbs trickle in here and there. The story in my head is starting to divert more drastically from the show.

February 19, 2021: Draft of the pivotal scene at the end of Chapter 15 written. I remember the specific day for this because I wrote it the same day we put down our dog, Clancy. (Writing emotional scenes often helps me process my own emotions.)

April 11, 2021: Creation of my dedicated author's notes file to keep track of the various threads and ideas I'd come up with, especially the backstory about Faerghus and how Dimitri became the Lion Prince. I filled it in like an extended summary or wikipedia entry about the 'verse and the overall plot of the story. I jotted a lot of stuff down between April and June as the brainworms really got to work again.

Summer 2021: I'm starting to entertain the idea of actually seeing this project through. Chapters 1 and 2 are drafted over the summer months, but I hit a block and the self doubt comes roaring right in to deter me. A LARGE part of my struggle with getting this fic out of development hell was me being unable to get out of my own way. Every stumbling block I hit (especially early on) was an invitation for my inner critic to resume browbeating me into giving up this “stupid” idea.

September 2021: I finally make up my mind that I'm really going to do this, and I spend the next six weeks ironing out the bumps in the plot and making a chapter-by-chapter outline highlighting the key scenes/plot points/character beats within each one. I organized the various blurbs I had into chronological order and put them under the correct chapter headings. I also started thinking of the best way to get myself to see this project through, as well as what would be a realistic timetable for its completion. I estimated that the final length of the whole thing would be around 350 pages or roughly 150K words. (This is hilarious to me in hindsight. I severely underestimated the scope of this fic!)

November 2021: I try to do the NaNoWriMo challenge (50K words in a month) to draft as much of the fic as I can. I "only" produce about 35K words in the end, but it was enough to draft Chapters 3 and 4 and write at least one decent-sized blurb within each of all of the remaining chapters.

December 2021: I took a short hiatus from working on SWST to finish Beneath the Ethereal Moon. When that's done, I went over my outline yet again to refine it further and then cleaned up my draft of Chapter 1 with an eye on posting it after right after New Year's. I determined that posting (and writing) one chapter per month should be doable, especially since I have a generous buffer to start with.

January 2022: I get a bad case of cold feet/anxiety and don't post Chapter 1. I'm having trouble getting a feel for Chapter 5 and fail to finish it before the end of the month. (This naturally doesn't help alleviate my self-doubt or silence my very loud inner critic.)

February 2022: Cold feet strike again and I fail to post Chapter 1 a second time. I'm still stuck on Chapter 5 (though I've at least made some progress), and while I'm extremely aware that I'm being my own worst enemy, that doesn't make it any easier to beat back old habits.

March 2, 2022: In the wee hours of the night (it was after midnight), I finally posted Chapter 1 and went straight to bed after. I slept terribly of course, haha.

I wish I could say "and you know the rest from here," but that's not true. Posting Chapter 1 was a huge mental hurdle cleared, but there were other things going on behind the scenes that almost derailed this project for good. The timing was such that if I were more prone to hubris, I'd think that the universe itself was testing my resolve. Or possibly mocking me.

On March 3, 2022 (yes, the day after I posted Chapter 1), my father was admitted to the hospital with a debilitating pain in his lower back. Initially, we thought it might be a flare up of his sciatica or maybe something like a kidney stone, but the truth was far worse. What he had was a spinal epidural abscess caused by a bacterial infection in his blood. He was transported to the ICU of a larger (further away) hospital once the severity of his condition was discovered, and he was pumped full of massive doses of antibiotics. Thanks to that, he stabilized, but what followed after was a long period of uncertainty as he would start to make gains only to suffer a setback. Even once the infection and his pain level were under control, he'd been so severely sick that the bacteria had ravaged his various body systems, leading to issues with his kidneys and his heart.

For 91 days, my family and I were stuck on a wretched rollercoaster of getting hopeful (he was transferred to a rehab facility three different times when it looked like he was improving) and then having our hopes dashed when something would happen that would see him sent back to the hospital (falling out of bed, chest pains, difficulty breathing). Hope began to fade in mid May when he was transferred back to the ICU due to diastolic heart failure, which caused his lungs to fill up with fluid. They tapped his lungs thrice, removing at least a liter of fluid each time, but they kept filling up again despite all the diuretics the doctors were giving him. Then his kidneys began to shut down too. We kept hoping right until the end, but he passed away on June 1, 2022, the day before what would've been his and my mother's 49th wedding anniversary.

(Proof that real life can be even crueler than fiction.)

I was only able to continue updating SWST while my father was sick because of that buffer I'd had, and I very nearly deleted the story from AO3 altogether after he died. I remember ruminating about how futile it was to continue with this project; I'd written almost nothing while he was sick, so my buffer was now gone and I questioned whether or not I'd be able to write, let alone write consistently, with the promised months of grief and general upheaval ahead. Even writing a story that I had, to that point, been passionate about felt utterly pointless.

It was strange though. I woke up on June 2nd thinking that maybe I should go ahead and post chapter 4 anyway, since it was already done and it was one of the chapters I particularly liked. So I did. And in the following days, we had my father's funeral and a part of me felt like I could breathe again. I was grieving yes, but the constant daily stress and uncertainty from his illness was gone, and I think that freed my creative drive to start working again. I remember the first day I sat back down at my computer with the intention to write and how much better I felt in general after I got some words onto the screen.

It's hella ironic that I planned SWST with grief and loss as major themes and it turned out I'd be processing such things myself while writing most of it. I know my own grief affected the story, though it's impossible to say to what degree; I get a lot of catharsis in general from writing emotional scenes, so I tend to go hard on them regardless. It didn't change the plot or direction of the story at all, since that was already planned, but it's certainly safe to say that I channeled a lot of my own feelings into some of the most intense moments. The ending of Chapter 9 stands out in particular as something that felt like it was coming straight out of my own heart.

Even on the hard days when I was feeling too overwhelmed and/or the words just weren’t coming, this story gave me a reason to keep going. Just keeping the goal in mind and reasserting my resolve to be consistent and see this project through to the end helped me cope. It both kept me grounded and helped me process what I was going through and it gave me something to look forward to when I uploaded each chapter and anxiously waited to see what the readers would think.

I started this fic as a means of testing myself: testing my commitment to writing consistently, to finishing a long-term project, and to getting over at least some of the many, MANY mental hurdles that have held me back from writing for way too long. I knew that this story would always be near and dear to me if I managed to finish it, but it became even more precious than I ever could’ve imagined back in 2020. It hurts that I must say goodbye to it, but…it’s forever mine. I can say with my whole chest that I MADE THIS THING and I’m so very proud of it! <3

#my writing #swst #wip wednesday #personal

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seeingteacupsindragons · 1 year

Text

Does...does anyone in Gen Z remember when the internet didn't completely suck? When there were communities?

You didn't used to have a million apps. You had your internet browser and it took you everywhere you wanted to go.

There were browser extensions like StumbleUpon that would take you to anything people had saved based on interests you gave it: news articles, memoirs, blog posts about the most random things, Cracked articles when Cracked was a thriving comedy site, and College Humor the same way, before Facebook killed them and now you kind of just hope someone on social media is funny sometimes and maybe there's The Onion. TVTropes pages. Fanfiction. Random sites designed to play exactly one game. Entire websites designed to have one button that did one thing. Yahoo! Answers questions that were funny or informative. Wikipedia pages. Other wiki pages. Fan wikis that didn't live on Fandom.

And you could just. Surf The Web as it were and wander aimlessly through it. Google wasn't totally ads, and it wasn't the only functioning search site, either. Yahoo! had games, and there were plenty of other sites just. Full of flash games. That you could browse through. For free!

People made websites for their fanfiction and their original fiction. Every interest had a forum and probably had a community and you could go sign up and chat with people about it. And you could find those posts again, until the forum died, which it might not even do! People had blogs that weren't attached to sites like Tumblr or LiveJournal or Dreamwidth.

There were thriving communities just for book and fic recs.

You could go places and do things and it wasn't all siloed. You didn't always have to have an account to do things or read things. You might have to sit through some ads, but not as many as now, and the Algorithm didn't steer you away. Facebook was usable. There were sites like Gaia Online that had forums and flash games and avatar design and dress up and videos and there were like 20 different sites like Flight Rising that operated for different silos and interests with different worlds to explore.

When chat rooms weren't privated up in discord and you could sign on anonymously in IRC chats. When NaNoWriMo had its own official IRC chat room! Just on the website! Where you could talk to anyone! And nothing would be saved once you left!

When not everything was paywalled and Exclusive Content and even if it was, you were on 50 different sites a day anyway hanging out with different people doing different things and exploring.

When social media wasn't the main way people got news and not the only place to hang out and talk and you could learn from other people a thousand other ways, and not everything linked to a locked Patreon.

The internet has always had problems. But it didn't used to be so siloed and locked and competitive and difficult to hop from one place to another and people didn't spend all day on three different sites.

And it used to be so much more interesting.

I think the good used to outweigh the bad of the internet. I'm not sure it does. It turned from a place to explore and talk to a corporate dopamine slot machine designed to extract money.

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geekfanficwriter · 1 year

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Caught Somewhere in Time- Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader Part 14/?

Summary: You end up in the 80s, 20 years earlier than it should be luckily a certain metalhead is about to make your time in the 80s much easier. Words: 3.9k Warnings: violence, injuries, horror, basically anything that happened in season 3

Part 13 Part 15

Masterlist

A/N: Yeah, I’ve finished Season 3! Thank god for nanowrimo

2nd-4th July 1985

You were freaking out as the elevator plummeted rapidly to the floor. Everyone was screaming and freaking out but you weren’t listening to what they were saying, instead focusing on clinging tightly to the shelf behind you. The elevator suddenly stopped, a box landing on top of Steve as it did so. You took deep breaths as you tried to calm down. You knew it was a bad idea to come here. You should’ve stayed home.

‘Just so you nerds are aware, I’m supposed to be spending the night at Tina’s, and Tina always covers for me. But if I’m not home for Uncle Jack’s party tomorrow and my mom finds out you four are responsible, she’s gonna hunt you down, one by one, and slit your throat.’ You tune back into the conversation to hear Erica say.

‘I don’t care about Tina or Uncle Jack’s party! Your mom’s not gonna be able to find us if we’re dead in a Russian elevator!’ Steve yells back, clearly freaking out.

‘Steve, calm the fuck down!’ You snap back, although you weren’t calm at all.

‘Hey! What if we climb out?’ Dustin said pointing at a hatch in the roof. Dustin and Steve climb out the hatch and you follow after them. You look up at the long path stretching between you and the ceiling and realise you aren’t going to be able to climb, you must be miles below the surface.

‘Can you do anything?’ Steve asked, looking at you.

‘I can give it a try.’ You say, moving to stand at the edge of the elevator. You stretch your hand out, trying to manipulate the air below the elevator to push you up. You’re able to do it, the elevator moving barely an inch even with all your energy. You stumble back, nearly collapsing but Steve is able to catch you. The world goes black for a second but it comes back quickly.

‘Yeah, that’s not going to work.’ You tell Steve as you stand up straight again.

‘Great.’ Steve runs his hand through his hair. You climb back down into the elevator joining Robin and Erica.

‘Quick question, Steve mentioned something about you having powers?’ Robin asked as the three of you hopped down from the ladders.

‘Yeah, Y/N’s got superpowers, it’s cool.’ Dustin said.

‘Bullshit.’ Erica responded. You sighed, holding out your hand and causing a flame to appear.

‘Believe me now?’ You roll your eyes, sitting down on the floor.

‘Okay, well can’t you do something to get us out of here?’ Robin asks, leaning against a shelf.

‘Just tried but it didn’t work.’

‘Earth!’ Dustin suddenly yells.

‘What?’ You say looking at him with confusion.

‘You can use the earth below us to push up the elevator.’

‘And why would that take less energy than using air?’ You cross your arms.

‘I don’t fucking know! Just try.’ You roll your eyes, placing your hands on the ground beneath you trying to feel for any dirt or anything but you can’t.

‘Nope, must be too much between us and the ground I can’t feel anything.’ You shake your head.

‘Can’t you make some appear like you just did that flame?’ Robin asks and you shake your head again.

‘The only thing I can create is fire, I can only manipulate earth, air and water.’ Robin opens her mouth to speak again but you cut her off. ‘I don’t know why it works that way.’

‘You can also-‘ Steve starts but you cut him off.

‘No, I can’t.’ You glare at him, reminding him that he was one of the few people who actually knew the truth about you.

Eventually, everyone finishes trying to figure out how to get out, accepting that you were at least going to be stuck there for the night. Erica and Dustin lay down on the floor, trying to get some sleep while Robin and Steve sat away from you, speaking in hushed whispers. All you could think about was Eddie. He was probably freaking out at the fact you hadn’t returned home yet. You felt terrible that he would be worrying but you couldn’t exactly just jump out of here and go back to him. You knew you should’ve told him the truth about everything but then again if you had he would’ve insisted on coming with you and then he’d be trapped in here too and that was worse than anything you could imagine.

You woke up to the sound of Dustin, talking into his walkie, repeating the same phrases over and over again. You didn’t know when you had fallen asleep but you must have. You stood up as you watch Erica attempt to smash open the green container.

‘Don’t do that.’ You mumble still only half awake. Erica glances over at you and then continues to hit it.

‘Hey, hey! Be careful, careful, careful! We don't even know what that is.’ Robin yells moving towards Erica who stops hitting it.

‘Exactly. It could be useful.’ She shrugs.

‘Useful how?’

‘We can survive down here a long time without food, but if the human body doesn't get water, it will die.’

‘You want to drink that shit.’ You grimace at the idea, it does not look appealing at all.

‘I hate to break it to you, but this is not water.’

‘No, but it's a liquid, and if it comes down to me drinking that shit or dying of thirst, I drink. Robin stops paying attention and instead turns to the door.

‘We’ve got company.’ Robin says and you also hear the noise of someone approaching. You quickly scramble up the hatch, closing it behind the three of you once you make it up. You all wait in silence as two guards move boxes out of the elevator. Once the guards finished Steve quickly hopped down and placed the container under the door keeping it open as the rest of you rushed out. The five of you look down the long corridor and start making your way down, walking slowly.

‘But if they're building something, why here? I mean, Hawkins. Seriously. Of all places. At the very best, we're a toilet stop on your way to Disneyland.’ Robin says as the five of you walk down. You, Steve and Dustin all look at each stopping in your path. You start discussing the possibility that the Russians knew about everything that had gone down in Hawkins previously. What if they knew about you and El? If they did then you were fucked. You’d been tortured by the US government but you couldn’t imagine what would happen if the Soviets found out about you.

‘I’m sorry, is there something you’d like to share with the class?’ Robin asked but before you could respond the walkie started making noise. It was quickly pulled out of Erica’s bag and Robin realised it was the code and that you could use it to get out of the underground bunker you were in.

Eventually, you guys reach an area that’s filled with Russians and you quickly hide. Erica insists that she saw the Comms room and you all quickly sneak over. As you enter the room, you quickly realise there’s a Russian guard in there. Robin starts speaking Russian which confuses the guard and then Steve rushes him knocking him out.

‘Dude! You did it! You won a fight!’ Dustin yells excitedly.

‘Yeah great is there anything to tie him up with?’ You ask looking around the room for some sort of rope or cord.

‘Who gives a fuck about that? He’s out cold?’ Dustin says grabbing the guard’s key card. Dustin and Erica soon start arguing about having to walk back to the elevator, while Robin walks up a set of stairs. Soon, Robin runs back down informing you that there’s something weird going on up there and the five of you make your way back up.

‘Holy fuck.’ You mumble as you look at the machine in front of you that’s trying to reopen the portal to the Upside Down.

You quickly run back down the stairs, trying to explain to Erica and Robin just how bad it is that the portal is being reopened but soon you realise the guard is missing and the alarm starts blaring throughout the building. The five of you make a run for it, Steve pushing guards out of the way to give you more time. You want to help by using your powers but the fear of being experimented on is too strong. You make it into a room where you, Steve and Robin press your bodies against the door keeping it shut, telling Erica and Dustin to run. Just as they make it out the guards burst through the door and the three of you have guns pointed at you before you even have a chance to react.

The three of you are quickly separated and put into cells alone. They tried to get information out of you but you’d been trained not to respond to torture so you didn’t respond. The only thing that made it hard was hearing the screams of Steve and Robin as they were also tortured. Eventually, you were picked up and dragged through to a room where the three of you were tied together and left alone.

‘Steve! Wake up, Steve!’ Robin yelled struggling against her bindings.

‘He’s not dead. I can feel his pulse.’ You mumble back.

‘Why are you so calm anyway?’ Robin questioned and you sighed.

‘Because I was tortured in a government facility for nearly 2 years.’ You say, feeling tears welling in your eyes. You didn’t want to be stuck in a facility again for years of your life.

‘Oh, I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.’ You shrug not wanting to respond. ‘Can you use your powers to get us out of here?’

‘Robin, if the Russians find out I have powers I’ll go back to being a weapon rather than a person so it’ll be our last resort.’

‘Y/N we are well past the stage of last resort! Help! Help!’ Robin yelled. You hesitated for a moment. If it was just you down you would let yourself die before you showed your powers but you couldn’t let Steve and Robin die too. And you couldn’t let Eddie think another person abandoned him.

‘Hey, would you stop yelling?’ Steve mumbled waking up. You breathed a sigh of relief, even though you knew he was alive, him being awake meant he was okay.

‘Are you okay?’ Robin asked, joy in her voice. Steve confirmed he was okay and Robin started talking.

‘Okay, do you see that table over there to your right?’ Steve looked towards you. ‘No, your other right. And do you see those scissors?’

‘Uh-huh.’ Steve confirms. You had your back to the table so you just had to rely on the fact they were right.

‘Yeah, well, I think if we all move at the same, we could get over there, and then maybe I could kick the table and knock them into your lap.’ Robin says, excited about having a plan.

‘Yeah, and we could get out of here.’ The three of you started to move towards the table but just as you got close to it, you fell, you landing on top of the others. You were able to manoeuvre yourself enough so that you weren’t on top of them as Robin started to laugh. The two of them started to have an intimate conversation and you cringe feeling like you were interrupting as you were literally in the middle of them.

The Russian returned, eventually and picked the three of you up, the doctor pulling out a vial of blue liquid. You knew exactly what it was. Sodium Pentothal or truth serum. You’d been injected with it 100s of times in the lab, in order to prepare you for this exact scenario. Your tolerance was probably lower than it was a few years ago but you would still be able to resist it mostly, the others, however, would not.

You felt the needle enter your neck and winced in pain. You started to feel hazy as the drug entered your bloodstream but were more conscious than the others who were giggling and laughing. The Russians re-entered the room you were in and started laying out all sorts of torture devices. You realised that if there was any time to use your powers it was down and you prepared yourself, taking deep breaths and Steve and Robin both rambled on about how the Russians were going to be taken out. Suddenly the alarm started blaring and the Russians left the room, clearly scared that they had actually been invaded. Erica and Dustin quickly rushed in and untied the three of you as you prepared yourself to run.

Once the bindings had been loosened you ran out of the room along with the others. You quickly hoped onto the cart, about to protest Dustin driving it but realised you weren’t in a state to drive, even if you were better than Steve and Robin. You reached the elevator and Dustin used the keycard to get the elevator working. Steve and Robin started pretending to surf on a box cart while Erica and Dustin wondered what is wrong with them.

‘Sodium Pentothal.’ You mumbled.

‘What?’ Dustin said looking at you confused.

‘We were injected with Sodium Pentothal or truth serum. I’ve got a resistance to it but they don’t.’ You say gripping your head as the room spins around you.

‘But you still seem not fully here?’

‘Resistance not immunity.’ You say, using DnD terms to help make it easier to understand.

Eventually, you make it out of the elevator but are chased by Russian guards so Dustin leads you through to the cinema where Back to the Future is playing. He leaves the three of you in one part of the theatre while they go take seats near the front. You sighed and closed your eyes, thinking it was just for a second but when you reopen them, Robin and Steve had vanished.

‘Shit, shit, shit.’ You mumble, getting up and leaving the theatre to look for them. Eventually, you find the two of them in the bathroom sitting on the floor, giggling at something.

‘Hey, Y/N, what’s up?’ Steve yells as if it’s the first time you’d seen him in months.

‘Hey, why did you leave?’ You asked sitting down next to them.

‘We needed water and then we puked. And by the way, Y/N, me and Robin would be a terrible couple because she’s gay.’ Steve says and your eyes widened.

‘Steve you can’t just do that! You have no idea if Robin wanted me to know.’ You chastise him.

‘Wait so you’re okay with it?’ Robin asks and you shrug.

‘Yeah doesn’t bother me.’

‘Y/N is from the future so it’s totally cool with her.’

‘Wait what? How many secrets do you guys have?’

‘Basically, in 2001, I was kidnapped and then I managed to travel back to 1982. I can’t control it so no I can’t change the last few days. If we live, I’ll give you the full version.’ You quickly explained.

Just then Erica and Dustin burst into the bathroom and join the three of you. You wait until the crowd comes out of the cinema and then join in but quickly realise that they are checking IDs and the five of you all run, sliding down the centre of the elevator. As you land you stumble, falling as pain erupts through the wrist you’ve just landed on.

‘Fuck.’ You yell, gripping it with your okay hand, you’re pretty sure it’s broken but you don’t have time to think as you keep running. You all slip to hide behind one of the food counters and you try to stay silent but every tiny movement of your wrist makes you feel like you’re dying.

All of a sudden a car alarm goes off. Steve looks at you wondering if you did it to which you shake your head. You hear a loud bang and you get up seeing the car had been flung. You turn and see all the others standing there and you quickly join up everyone getting caught up on what the other group had been up to. You notice El start to walk away from the group and then suddenly collapse screaming about her leg. The others pull up her trouser leg to reveal a wound which is pulsing and moving.

Jonathan runs and grabs a knife to cut whatever is in her leg out and you look away, feeling like you're going to vomit. You turn back and El’s using her powers to remove whatever it is from her leg which causes the glass behind her to crash just as Joyce, Hopper and some man you don’t recognise arrive. You all get caught up, as you find out about the Mindflayer and tell the others about the Russians.

‘You alright?’ Steve asks, seeing you rubbing your wrist.

‘I think it’s broken.’ You say, flinching in pain as you accidentally move it.

‘You three!’ Hopper yells at you, Steve and Robin and you walk over. Dustin and Hopper explain the plan.

‘Umm, does it not make more sense for me to stay here? Two powered people are better than one.’ You point out.

‘No way. Your wrist is broken.’ Steve points out.

‘He’s right, it’s best you go with them.’ You nod as Hopper hands Steve the keys to the car he’s been driving. You head outside and Steve gets excited seeing the car.

‘Oh, man! Now, this is what I’m talking about.’ Steve said.

‘Todd-father?’ Robin scoffs reading the number plate.

‘Screw Todd, Steve’s her daddy now.’ Steve says and you grimace.

‘Please never call yourself daddy again.’ You fake gag. The five of you all climb into the car and start making your way over to Dustin’s radio.

Once you make it half the way up the hill, you have to walk the rest of the way. You eventually make it to the radio and sit down while Dustin gets it up and running. As you sit at the top of the hill waiting to hear something you glance out at the mall and see a bunch of colours coming from it. You all run back to the radio and Dustin attempts to contact the others but all you here is some sort of screeching on the other end. Steve starts running, heading back towards the car and you and Robin follow closely after, jumping into the back of the car. You speed towards the mall trying to get there as soon as you possibly can.

As you pull into the car park, you see a car speeding towards Nancy and the others and Steve puts his foot down, hitting the car before it can slam into Nancy. You jump into the car and watch as the monster follows behind you. You suddenly hear the walkie spark up and hear the voice of a girl through it. Dustin and who you assume is Suzie suddenly start singing and you can help but laugh listening to the two of them as you all speed away from the mall.

Suddenly the monster switches directions heading back towards the mall and you let out a groan as Jonathan turns the car around, realising you were going to have to head back to the mall. You arrive at the mall following closely behind the monster and make your way to the top level of the mall. The others all grab fireworks and start throwing them at the monster while you raise your good hand and start shooting a steady stream of fire out, hoping to distract the monster enough. You lean against the railing, feeling your energy waning as you continue to shoot fire at the creature. The others soon run out of fireworks as you run out of energy, falling to your knees and collapsing as you feel blood drip from your nose before everything goes black.

When you wake up you're in a hospital bed. Your arm is in a cast and you feel like complete shit as you look around the room. Steve and Robin are sitting there and both perk up as you sit up.

‘The mindflayer?’ You ask and they both nod indicating that it was gone.

‘How long was I out?’

‘A few hours, not that long.’ Steve tells you. Suddenly the door flies open and in bursts Eddie looking more worried than you’ve ever seen him. He immediately makes his way over to you and wraps you tightly in a hug while Robin and Steve mumble something about getting something to eat.

‘God, I was so worried about you and when Steve called me and said you were in the hospital, I’ve never been more terrified.’ Eddie pulls his head away from your shoulder and you realise now his eyes are red and puffy. You feel your heart break as you look at him and realise you’d made him cry.

‘I’m alright.’ You tell him. ‘I’ve just missed you.’ You say as you feel tears welling in your eyes.

‘What even happened? I mean you’ve been missing for days. Steve mentioned something about being stuck in an elevator and a mall fire?’

‘Yeah, we’ve been stuck in an elevator for the past few days, luckily we got out just before the mall was set on fire.’ You lie, not wanting Eddie to know the truth.

‘I’m just glad you’re okay, I love you.’ He said pressing a light kiss to your lips.

‘I love you too. And I’m fine, just a broken wrist and it’s not even my dominant one.’ You say waving your wrist around.

‘Oh, I got you this. I know it’s not one of those giant ones from the fun fair but it’ll have to do.’ He said grabbing the teddy bear that he’d dropped when he came in and handed it to you. It was just a simple brown teddy bear with a heart that said ‘get well soon' but you love it.

‘Thanks, it’s the best thing anyone’s ever got me.’ You say hold it close to your chest.

‘God, you’re not going to spend all your time cuddling that bear instead of me cause it’ll be embarrassing if I’m jealous of a toy.’ He jokes and you laugh back, reaching your hand up to play with his hair.

‘I’m sorry for scaring you.’ You said as you wrapped one of his curls around your finger.

‘It’s not your fault.’ He smiles as he rests his head in your hand.

‘Do you need anything? Seriously anything at all, I’ll be waiting on your hand and foot until your out that cast.’ He smiles at you and you laugh lightly.

‘Well I haven’t eaten in days so can we stop at the diner on the way home, please?’ You look at him with big eyes. You didn’t think the doctors would keep you that much longer now that you were awake and even if they tried you just wanted to go home.

‘Absolutely, anything for you.’ He said placing a kiss on your lips, before resting his forehead against yours and you realised, you were home.

Taglist: @michaelfuckinglangdon @taygra5shaon @eddiemunson4ever @little-diva-gurl @oxbunnehxo @fentyreligion @bellegirl16 @smol-book-nerd @pbeckn26 @luvfrlslou @maicclg @ruinedbythehobbit @lillyof-thevalley @yourdailymemedelivery

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x oc #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader

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