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dragonmuse · 10 months

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How to be a Dirtbag Fic Writer

I got to do some talking about writing today and I couldn’t stop thinking about it so here are my full thoughts on the matter of being a dirtbag fic writer.

Being the disorganized thoughts of someone two and a half decades into the beautiful mess that is writing fanfic (and a few non-fanfic things too).

What is a dirtbag fic writer?

I am talking about someone who is not cleaning up anything. We show up filthy, fresh out of rooting around in the garden of our imaginations. We probably smell a little from work. We will hand you our hard grown fruits, but we have not washed them and we carried them in the bottom upturned parts of our t-shirts. The fruit is a little bruised. It’s not cut up or put in a bowl yet. But we got it in the house! It’s here. Someone can eat it.

Why dirtbag it? Because the fruit gets in the house. If you’re hemming and hawing, if the idea you want to do seems to be big or you want it perfect and shiny. If you’re imagining a ten thousand step process, so you’re not taking the first step? Dirtbag it.

How do I dirtbag?

That’s the best part. You just write. Sit down. One word after the other. No outline, no plan, no destination. No thought of editing. Just word vomit. Every word is a good word. It’a word that wasn’t there before. Grammar sucks? Who cares. Can’t think of the perfect word? Fuck it, put in the simplest version of what you mean.

Write the idea that you love. The one thing you want to say. Has it been done 3000000 times? WHO CARES human history is long, every idea has been done, probably more than twice. YOU have never written it before. It’s your grubby potato that you clawed out of the ground and guess what someone can still make it into delicious french fries.

Now here’s the critical part. Write as much as you can squeeze out of your brain. One word in front of the other.

And then I challenge you this: at most, read it over once and then put it into the world. Just as it is. AND THIS IS IMPORTANT: DO IT WITHOUT APOLOGY OR CAVEAT. I challenge you, beautiful dirtbag to not pre-emptively apologize. Do not make your work lesser. THAT IS YOUR POTATO! It has eyes and roots and dirt clinging to it because that is what happens. We are dirtbagging it today. Hell really confused people at do #dirtbagwriter on it.

Dirtbag writes id, base, lizard brain. Dig in the fertile garden of your imagination. What is the story you tell yourself before you fall asleep? What’s your anxiety this week? Your fantasy? What is going well? What do you wish things looked like? Who is the feral imaginary character you’ve been crafting to take your frustrations and joys out on?

But, VEE, I wish to have an editor and an outline, use a cool software like scrivener instead of retching up onto a google doc and making it look NICE and PRETTY!

COOL! DO THAT THEN! IF YOU’RE ACTUALLY DOING IT! You should have a process! That’s cool and healthy and necessary for sustainable writing. But if you’re not writing because all of that seems too much? THEN DON’T.

Did you know fic is free? That we do this from love? From sheer desire? For the love of the game? If you have a process, and the words are flowing, amazing, I love that for you, you don’t need this essay. If you don’t, let us continue.

What does dirtbag writing look like?

It’s messy. It’s a little raw and tatty around the edges sometimes. It’s weird. It’s someone else’s first draft. Maybe it winds up being your first draft, Idek, that’s your business.

It’s jokes that make YOU laugh. It’s drama that would make YOU cry if you read it. You are your first commenter. You are your first audience (and possibly continuing pleasure! If you don’t go back and reread your own work sometimes, you might be missing out on one of your favorite authors cause you wrote it for you! Wait until you’re not so close to it. Years sometimes. Then hey, maybe some of this is pretty dang good actually.)

It has mistakes.

Dirtbags make mistakes, but dirtbags have published pieces. They have things other people can read out there.

What if I don’t get good feedback?

Look, the most likely outcome of any new, untried fic writer (and even established writers trying something new-ish) is that you get no feedback. That’s real. Silence. It’s eerie, it’s terrible, it sucks. I don’t want to pretend it doesn’t. But nothing is not negative. It’s a big fic-y ocean out there and we are all wee itty-bitty-sometimes-with-titty fishes.

You should still do it all over again. And again. And again. You get better at writing by writing. You just do. Nothing else replaces it. If your well is dry? Fill it with new things. Go do something new, read a new kind of book, watch a new film, (libraries have so much good shit, you don’t even have to spend money for so many things if you have a library card), just go for a walk in a new direction. Stimulate yourself. Got a cup of something hot and eavesdrop on conversations. Refill yourself with newness.

And hey, speaking of, do you leave comments? Because you get what you give. You can build relationships with people by commenting and that builds community and community means places to get feedback in the end. Comments are gold. They are all we are paid in. Tip your writers with ‘extra kudos’ or ‘this made me laugh’. And hey, when you go back for a re-read so you can tell them your favorite part? Ask yourself how they made that favorite part? What do you like about it? Tone? Metaphor? The structure? Reading teaches us how to write too!

BUT, okay. Sometimes. Sometimes there is actual bad feedback and people suck.

You know the best part about being a dirtbag? Unrepentant block, delete, goodbye. You don’t own anyone with a shitty opinion any of your precious time on this earth. You did it for free, you gave them your dirty, but still delicious fruit and they went ‘ew, this is a dirty strawberry, how could you not make a clean tomato?” Because you didn’t plant fucking tomatoes, did you? Don’t fight, don’t engage. Block. Delete. Goodbye.

If someone in person, looked you in the eye when you brought them a plate of food to share at a party and they said “Why didn’t you bring me MY favorite? This isn’t cooked well at all.” You would probably write up a Reddit AiTA question about it just to hear five thousand people say they were an asshole. Fic is no different

And hey, when you dirtbag it? You know you did. It’s not your most cleaned up perfect version. So who cares what they think? You might make it more shiny and polished next time! You might NOT.

Ok, but what if I don’t finish it?

Fuck it, post it anyway.

What if it’s bad?

Fuck it, post it anyway.

What if it doesn’t make sense?

That’s ART, baby. Fuck it, post it anyway.

What if what I want to write doesn’t work with current fandom norms?

Then someone out there probably needs it! And what the hell is this? The western canon? FUCK IT POST IT ANYWAY*

*Basic human decency is not a ‘fandom norm’. Don’t be racist, sexist, ableist, fat shaming, classist or shitty about anyone's identity on main, okay? Dirtbag writers are KIND first and foremost. Someone saying you are stepping into shit about their identity is not the same as unsolicited crappy feedback about pairings. In the immortal words of Kurt Vonnegut: "God damn it, you've got to be kind.”

You’re being very flippant about something that’s scary.

I know. I know I am. I know it can be scary. But no risk, no reward and hell, you aren’t using your goddamn legal name on the internet are you? (please for the love of fuck do not be using your legal name to write fic) You’ve got on a mask. You’re a superhero. With dirt on your cape.

That niche thing that you think no one cares about? Guaranteed you will find someone else in the world who wants it. Maybe they won’t find it right away. Maybe they will be too shy to comment or even hit a button. But your dirty potato will stick with them. They will make french fries in their head.

You have an audience. But they can’t find you if you have nothing out there.

Go forth. Make.

You have some errors in this essay.

PROBABLY CAUSE I DIRTBAGGED IT. But I picked this strawberry for you out of my brain, so I hope you run it under some cold water and find the good bits and have a nice snack. Or throw it away. Or use it to plant more strawberries (I know that’s not how strawberries work, metaphors break when stretched).

#dirtbagwriter

Go forth and MAKE

#writing #i'm not an expert #I just have been doing this a long time #and these are my feels #please feel free to throw away this strawberry

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possamble · 8 days

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Do you have any headcanons or thoughts about Falin having a crush on Marcille pre-canon? Especially during her later years at the school/the years she was with Laios.

Just full on "awkward and slightly gnc teenage lesbian has a massive crush on the touchy-feely girly girl straight best friend" tropes everywhere. Even better bc it's the "best friend is also the popular girl while lesbian is the slightly ostracized quiet one" dynamic in school. Falin gets so so so good at not having a heart attack every time Marcille gets in her personal space. But she's so resigned to never saying anything bc why would a girl as blinding as Marcille ever like her back. She also doesn't make an effort to get over it either, she's just content to be trapped in that stable dynamic of silently being in love with Marcille while getting to enjoy CLEARLY being Marcille's favourite person. She gets so used to it that it's almost just background noise most of the time-- it would have to be, unless she wanted to be freaking out 24/7 bc Marcille is so goddamn affectionate.

Her feelings also definitely change throughout the time that they're in school together-- at first it was this "whooaaah pretty older girl" puppy crush that you can clearly see developing in the flashbacks we get (I think she doesn't even like... realize her fixation on Marcille is romantic at all until years after it starts, when she's 12-14 ish and all the other girls around her are talking about crushes). But then they get closer, over the years Marcille starts getting really attached and letting down her guard, and Falin gets to see the ridiculous side of her. She gets to calm her down from her tantrums when experiments don't work out, or help her clean up when something explodes in her face. I feel like the progression of her feelings from "schoolgirl infatuation" to "unrequited love" probably almost exactly corresponds to how slowly Marcille goes from trying to keep Falin at a polite but friendly distance (like she does with everyone else) to her facade completely eroding as she becomes her cheerful and ridiculous self again for the first time since her father died.

That's probably the saddest part: Falin knows that she's clearly Marcille's favourite person on the surface level, but she doesn't quite fully grasp the enormity of what that means to Marcille. She doesn't get that she's the person who made the world colorful again for Marcille, that she is the first person outside of Marcille's family to really and truly make her laugh. She just thinks she's the beloved but dinky little short-lived sidekick, one of many that Marcille has had and will have.

Part of it is that, despite Marcille becoming such a clingy and affectionate best friend, I think her initial demeanour already did its damage. You see Falin being super adventurous and weird at first, bringing Marcille berries and other stuff, only to be rebuffed by Marcille exasperatedly saying she's working or looking kind of put off by it. And by the time you see her a little older, shes already quieter and better at masking -- and I'm not saying that that's entirely Marcille's fault (being the weird girl at an all girls academy for almost the entirety of her teenhood must have been brutal, my god) but she definitely learned that she's a potential nuisance to Marcille if she doesn't tone herself down. She learned that Marcille most likely sees her as a weird little kid following her around bc she has no other friends. And for the most part, she was never given any reason to unlearn any of that.

And that all very very smoothly transitions into Marcille being her "first love that was never meant to be anyway" when she leaves the academy. Chapter closed in her mind: she loved and pined from a distance and that was that. Every now and then she'll see another woman with Marcille's build or her shade of hair and be like ":( I miss her..." But then just kinda move on with her day. Same with when she's going through her own spellbook and finds a note that Marcille left her/correction that she made-- she'll smile fondly and reminisce about how much Marcille doted on her, and then move on.

Sometimes she thinks about contacting Marcille but convinces herself that it's too late (she spent too many months focusing on getting Laios healthy again and didn't mean to go no contact, but ah well). It's only when she has a practical reason to be reaching out that would also benefit Marcille ("Marcille is studying dungeons and we need a trustworthy mage to go with us to the dungeons") that she feels like she's allowed/that it wouldn't just be 100% a nuisance.

I almost think she didn't expect Marcille to reply at all, only to get a telegraph (or some in-universe equivalent of express mail, maybe magical pigeon carrier) that's like. EN ROUTE TO ISLAND. LETTER TO FOLLOW. and she freaks out like AAAA LAIOS SHE SAID YES WE HAVE TO CLEAN UP NOW.

I do think getting a response accidentally sparks a little hope in her, judging by the way she acts in the chp 57 flashback-- she's pouty that Marcille sees her as a kid, gets really worked up about being presentable, and then tries to play it cool when she actually meets Marcille (as if she didn't freak out and force Laios to shave while rambling a mile a minute about Marcille). She's an adult now, really and truly, and she's seen and survived things that her 18 yr old self would have never even imagined-- then all of a sudden, the person she was in love with since she was ten years old appears, and she's so desperate to be seen as mature and competent. She's trying soooo hard to impress Marcille with her newfound combat and dungeoneering experience...

Only to fall right back into their old dynamic. RIP. At least she gets the girl eventually, even if it takes dying twice and being the core catalyst behind an almost-apocalypse.

#asks #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #dungeon meshi #farcille #marcilleposting #kinda #the irony is that for me she DOES succeed in impressing marcille #its just that its so gradual and marcille is so so good at repression that neither of them notice it #marcille just sees her reacting so confidently to dire combat situations #easily throwing up protective spells even when they get ambushed #and seeing her become an expert in her field of magic that marcille would even consider an intellectual peer or equal #as well as a competent healer and combatant who also grew up a lot to take care of laios herself #changes marcilles feelings surprisingly fast i think. i think shes down bad in love with falin for the majority of the year before canon #the absence made the heart grow fonder but the feelings more mutable and its almost like meeting a new person when they reunite #anyway. you guys have to stop reading my mind and asking about major themes from my wips #yes the next chapter of a little creature touches on this a lot.#stop making me give away my takes before i can properly write them into fiction form fjsjjdf

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cryptidfuckery · 1 year

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I don't want to become a tree.

I have a fascination with death. Not how it happens, not what happens after. I have a fascination with how death is handled by the ones left living.

I talked at length about it in the Egyptian gallery with you, surrounded by bodies misplaced. "Most of history we learn through the way we treat our dead." Which is true, I think, for the most part.

We have written and oral history. We have the skeletons of buildings and cultures left behind for us to interpret. But before that, before the corpses of civilizations we're still able to uncover, we have our own.

The oldest body ever found is argued to be 230,000 years old. Hundreds of millennia, a culture so lost to time and decay we can't hope to uncover significant artifacts.

Our bodies become the artifact. The way we were buried, where, with what, with who. Was there care put into our final resting spot? Was there effort put into the ends of our lives?

Most often, there was. Our bodies tell our descendants our status. Our injuries. Our community. Our loves.

Perhaps they'll debate. Perhaps they'll misinterpret. But millennia later, your body might tell someone how we lived. How we loved. What we cared about at our core. What we thought would help us after death. What we thought we'd want to continue our comfort. What the living needed to let us pass on from their lives.

You tell me you still think about what I said.

Many people talk about becoming a tree when they pass. It is a beautiful notion, one I've considered. A natural, living reminder of a life lived. A place for their loved ones to share a connection with. In a way, the continuation of a life; albeit in a different form.

But I don't want to become a tree. I'd rather become a forest.

Maybe it's a notion toward the state of our world. The lack of top soil is one of the prevalent factors of our declining environment. The way we've stripped it of the nutrients of decay.

There are ways to decompose naturally. In the ground with nothing but a natural shroud is the oldest and easiest way. A new, human composting method has been created for an urban option when the easiest is unavailable. An alternative to cremating. One that can give back to the earth.

My body might not be one that tells the story of my time alive on this planet. My body might tell a joke, or rest peacefully, or ideally decay away. My DNA will dissolve into nitrogen and an assortment of other elements. I will become no different or better than the dirt that lies around me. What was me will become something else entirely.

I'd rather become the top soil. I'd rather become the forest.

#fucking. blame raq for this #got me thinking about it again #perhaps..... a matching piece of writing to their poem???#idk if i'd call this a poem but. i am not the expert on this #anyway dedicated to @inkskinned because yeah. they're part of this #@inkskinned #anyway!!!! feel free to ignore i just had to get it out of me

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ponchizs · 1 year

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I’m in love with how they are giving so many subtle hints about Alhaitham and Kaveh’s relationship and how important it is to Alhaitham, despite the way they always seem to be bickering.

Throughout the 3.2 archon quest Alhaitham tells us that the reason why he is so interested in helping Sumeru is because he doesn’t want his daily life to change. After that Kaveh starts being mentioned very frequently by him or we hear other people in the akademiya complain about how they daily argue.

Then, of course, we meet them both arguing with each other in the House of Daena, which was quite the argument. We also know many of their casual interactions and how they go to the café/bar frequently together. Furthermore, Alhaitham pays all of Kaveh’s bills (something no one would do for someone they don't care for).

And now, during Alhaitham’s quest, their tones were so soft (At least in JP and CN) and also domestic. Kaveh seems to worry a lot about Alhaitham and exchanges glances with him, which made me melt inside. I also love how Alhaitham is constantly smiling while bickering with kaveh. Remember, we dont see him smiling like this that often. Which means he really enjoys it. I really liked how after the second time Kaveh asked him if he is okay, he replied with a tease about the painting Kaveh had mentioned before. Also smiling.

But most importantly, something I see no one talking about: the moment when Alhaitham was explaining why he resigned from being the Grand Sage to being the scribe again and he tells us that “It’s important to keep your priorities straight”, the camera points at Kaveh.

I know this game will probably never have any canon ship because they need to make everyone happy, but we do get hints like this from time to time and I think this was one of them.

After all, why would they bother to add all of those scenes with Kaveh when the quests had already concluded, if not for showing us how is what is Alhaitham’s daily life he wants to protect that much? We saw how happy he is, how eager he was to get home and go have dinner with Kaveh. We also see how Kaveh had been waiting for him as well.

I’d like to know more about their relationship, even if it ends up not being romantic (though how do you explain that face Kaveh made when paimon asked if they are friends).

#genshin impact #haikaveh #kavetham #but anyways yes I write this and yes its 11pm and yes im obsessing over them #im so happy ngl Its like a fever dream #its so happy to know all of what I predicted from the message boards being true #I hope we see more of them #and yeah really sorry this is really long #i never do meta posts and probably there are some mistakes there im no expert i just ship two very gay men #anto’s rambling #i have to scream everything here because Im probably driving crazy everyone around me with these two #imagine me writing all of this to them #I needed to let this all out because omfg #LIKE LISTEN THIS IS WHERE WE SEE HOW NORMAL PERSON ALHAITHAM AND KAVEH REALLY ARE #LIKE just see how worried kaveh is over a messed up investigation from somebody at the akademiya who has already been arrested #no wonders Alhaitham avoided telling Kaveh the details from the archon quest and no wonder Kaveh didnt believe the little he knew #because they are just normal persons trying to get on with their lives #i understand alhaitham so much I would also want to keep that life

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teejaystumbles · 6 months

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When Dream comes to the New Inn in search of Hob, he is surprised to find his friend looking...quite different from what he has come to expect from Hob Gadling.

#witch!Hob #he's contemplating a new spell #he also writes books about occultism and occasionally gives lectures as an expert on the history of paganism in England #dreamling #the sandman fanart #dream of the endless #hob gadling #teejaystumbles

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mllenugget · 4 months

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I mean I’m just saying I’m surprised Baghera didn’t do a Baghera on this one

#didnt mean for this to be my last post of the year but didnt expert to fall sick either #last year i spent the new year rushing homeworks last minute and tonight i spend it confined in a bedroom whatsup #i was sad so to distract myself i pulled my tablet and tried to draw something that didnt require too much effort #but i still spent a whole day on this wtf #i wanted to tag something like ‘spotty tries their hands at procreate again’’ but im so feverish i forgot to write the part about the hands #and got jumpscared upon reading it again #qsmp #qsmp fanart #qsmp ron #qsmp baghera #comic #my art #ron lemons #bagherajones fanart #mcyt #does this count as body horror lmao ? i mean whatever theory you have about the faceless thing HAS to have some sort of horrific implic #-ations surely

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beevean · 6 months

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There are so many wonderful essays in the TCOAAL tag, about all the shades of fucked up that Andrew and Ashley are, but there is one thing that gnaws at me.

Where did Leyley learn all the stuff she says? Not only to swear, because that's something she could have picked up from older kids (or her own brother), but to call women "hussies" and "floozies"? Even Andy questions her, and doesn't get an answer.

That is very deep, ingrained internalized misogyny. Ever since she was a child, Leyley slutshamed with frightening ease. So much that when she hears that their parents have been befriending the neighbours, she calls them "a bunch of whores". (And I'm not even counting the voicemails she left to Julia in Andrew's dream, since we don't know what is reality and what is Andrew's subconscious)

Then you remember that she seems to view sex as transactional - as a way to gain food, money, Andrew if necessary. She's, of course, not above making jokes about banging her brother (if you give her the soda she wanted, she jokes about rewarding Andrew with her virginity), but she doesn't display the... genuine attraction Andrew seems to be harboring for her. It's a "might as well". It's a "yeah I'd do that". Sex is a way to get what she needs... which might be a reason she flips when she thinks that Andrew is getting it from someone else. Because if Andrew is getting what he wants from someone else, well, what is Ashley good for?

And then you remember how Mrs. Graves not only accuses Andrew of "fucking" Ashley (notice the wording, it's not "you two are fucking", he is fucking her - she has no agency, which is weird since Mrs. Graves is all to happy to blame everything on her "bad" daughter), but she seems to think this is the only reason Andrew could ever want to do anything for his sister. Keep in mind that she knows about the Nina incident. The idea that it might be related to Andrew's obedience doesn't cross her mind. She'd rather think that Ashley is manipulating Andrew through sex, and Andrew is such a horndog that he'd do anything for his sister's pussy. Because, well, isn't this what women and men do?

Mrs. Graves may be the dom to her spineless husband, but she sure has some... views on sexuality. Who seems to have been passed on to Leyley since she was very young. One can only imagine the stuff the kid has internalized.

#the coffin of andy and leyley #ashley graves #i'm not an expert essayist lmao bear with me #but yeah i did not expect gender to be this engrained in this game #it's not even blatant it's not preachy or anything #it's just there to activate your almonds #gripping writing

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mynqzo · 5 months

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Hey heard you like vampires what are your thoughts on Twilight

it gets an unprecedented amount of hate mostly for being a show with an audience of young women and girls (so therefore people think oh girls like this so ew). its also undeniable that twilight very much shows the progression of how vampires are depicted in media and is an important facet in the history of vampire mythology especially in books/movies. it being a romance movie with cliche and maybe cringe scenes doesn't take away people's right to enjoy it and by extent its version of vampires (id argue that twilight vampires are just a spiritual successor to vampires like lestate or 'romantic vamps' in general)

with that being said, it is the straightest and most mormon vampire depiction which therefore makes it less enjoyable for me! vampires, historically, existed to represent minorities and people who were considered outcasts to 'normal' society and were first and foremost used as caricatures for racist, lgbtq-phobic and sexist stereotypes, so i feel like their reclamation by queers, poc and minorities in general is the only good way to depict them. bram stoker's dracula represented the english man's fear of jewish immigrants (and immigrants in general, the visual description of dracula in that book plays into popular caricatures of jews during those times), eastern europeans, and queer people (dracula and jonathan yada yada as well as the wives of dracula initiating a saucy moment with jonathan which was a man' job because the man was the pursuer and the woman was pursued, but the roles were reversed. also, i don't think i need to tell you how fangs, blood and the extension of dracula through his wives were used as a gay metaphor). and carmilla by sheridan le fanu, depicting the imagery of a predatory lesbian hunting for innocent upper-class women. during these times vampires were not yet characters with complex personalities and values, but folklore monsters in a way, a way to show an enemy and defeat it rather than learn to understand them, which was a product of its time.

fast forward to the vampire chronicles and especially interview with the vampire by anne rice, vampires became complex people, who's oddities were considered alluring, beautiful, queer and unabashedly proud of it. descriptions of androgynous men, womens love of each other, several nods to gay culture throughout the books with the characters themselves having more to them than just being monsters (with that being said there are several critiques of an interview with the vampire, esp the original book, it is by no means the creme de la creme of queer rep in vampire literature!)

so, circling back, twilight vampires were in themselves like that, kind of. edward wasn't exactly the most macho man as was popular to faun over in media, he was, kind of, more androgenous and sensitive and a character with complex values and thoughts - but that doesn't take away from the fact that the book is lacking a lot of soul and seemingly doesn't show the true reasons why vampires became so popular (amongst young queers especially who found themselves relating to this sense of otherness because of who they were. it is a very sanitized version of a vampire romance, which doesn't mean its bad or that people shouldn't like it! but i'm just saying.

huff

#also i am by no means the expert here i am just autistic about vampires #ask #and there is so so much more details that i didnt write #so this is very generalized

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jtl-fics · 11 months

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Fluent Freshman - Part 19

There’s a couple things about FF that might be good to know at this point.

1. There are few things in the world he hates doing more than asking for clarification or admitting he doesn’t understand / know something. The thought of going up to someone and admitting that he hasn’t perfectly comprehended the situation upon the first explanation is something makes his stomach twist like he’d just eaten Mango-Habanero ice cream.

He has figured out his own math theorems in the pursuit of not having to ask the math teacher to explain he doesn’t understand. He got lost in an Ikea once for over 6 grueling hours where he considered making a home there and living among the display rooms until his grandma grabbed him by the ear and dragged him to safety (the food court) and let him regain his strength (eat Swedish meatballs). He, to this day, is not sure about one of his foreign language friend’s names (how embarrassing he just keeps waiting for someone else to say it but they go by some insane nickname).

So he has become a master of piecing shit together on his own. He sometimes gets it wrong (Andrew, god how embarrassing) but for the most part 8 times out of 10 he can get to the right answer if he just has a couple pieces to work with. No one had ever actually explained to him how Exy works and he was too embarrassed to ask after the third week of practice in middle school so he just pieced together what he was and was not allowed to do through the art of trial and error. He’s even mostly pieced out the rules for the other positions.

So with the information he has gotten through people being bound and determined to talk in foreign languages in front of him he has an idea about the tenuous situation some of the older Foxes find themselves in.

He’s heard Kevin Day and Jean Moreau talk in French.

He’s heard that the anxiety in both of their voices as they talked about their futures and owing 80% of their salaries to the ‘Moriyamas’ and how nervous they were about getting on professional teams or else they’d be killed.

Captain Neil and Andrew are not always using Russian to talk dirty.

He’s heard Andrew soothe Captain Neil’s worries about playing for a professional team. He’s heard Captain Neil mention that at least ‘Ichirou’ would likely just kill him and not make a game out of it like his father did.

Organized Crime might have more to do with Exy than FF had originally thought.

(He had thought it. Plenty of times he had thought it but his Gran had warned him that he was overthinking things. That he wasn’t playing a sport invented by the Mafia. That he had caffeinated coffee instead of decaf. “It’s going to be okay sweetie. Just take a deep breath.”)

This leads into the second thing you should know at this point.

2. Before he had signed with Wymack he had known the broad strokes of Captain Neil’s life. There had been a lot of news articles about it and Gran (bless her) loved trashy gossip magazines.

After he had signed with the Foxes he had done a bit of a deep dive on as many of their controversies as he could find. There’d been things from brawls on the court (worrying), player overdoses (concerning), a straight up MURDER (Oh god), and the very public breaking of the King of Exy’s arm resulting in his suicide (Warranted, that wacko was going to take off Captain Neil’s HEAD.)

But the thing that had made him actually a little bit, dare he admit, excited to go to Palmetto was the fact that Captain Neil was there.

For someone who froze for almost a decade, who just took it and didn’t have the balls to even react? Neil Josten is an inspiration.

This is someone who got away, who lived a life completely unlike FF’s, someone who knew how to run and more impressively someone who learned how to FIGHT. Captain Neil was being hunted but he still ripped people to shreds in interviews. Captain Neil was probably more scared of the Butcher than FF had been of anything in his entire life but Captain Neil was way braver than FF could ever hope to be.

Captain Neil was taken and tortured but he still fought. FF had seen the scars and Captain Neil is right to wear them proudly (though based on some conversations he has unfortunately overheard he is sure Andrew may have a role in Neil’s positive feelings about them).

FF had thought that he was being lead to his death down in a basement of a club (Don’t cringe. Don’t cringe. Don’t cringe. Don’t-) and he just trailed right behind the two of them without even an illusion of a fight.

Neil Abram Josten was a bit of a personal hero.

He’s proud to call him Captain Neil. He wishes Andrew hadn’t been there when Greg had mentioned wanting autographs because FF wants an autograph from Captain Neil but now Andrew has probably mentioned it to Neil.

Long story short, FF had looked into a lot of details on Captain Neil’s case.

Including two of the Butcher’s top men who were still on the loose.

Romero Malcolm and Jackson Plank.

He keeps his presence low but no matter how many times he blinks the man grumbling in Italian next to him continues to be Romero Malcolm.

Moreover Romero Malcolm continues to grumble about the fact that he is having a hard time finding ‘Nathaniel’ and that he’ll have to grab one of ‘The Wesninski brat’s friends’ to draw him out.

FF is a recently confirmed friend of Captain Neil.

FF who is standing next to this man, with his dick out, and trying to remain as invisible as possible.

After two shakes (Yes he was watching but only because he had to! He wonders briefly if he goes to the FBI if they would accept a description of Romero Malcolm’s penis for the wanted poster? Probably not but it is BURNED into his retinas.)

He watches as Romero tucks, zips, and then bypasses the sink entirely.

FF shivers at how unhygienic that is. Who RAISED him?

The door shuts and FF needs to get out of here ASAP but his hands are shaking with the sudden adrenaline of ’One of the FBI’s Most Wanted just took a piss next to me and is looking for me friend’. He pulls his phone from his pocket and ducks into one of the stalls. Even if there’s no door it’ll at least FEEL a little safer, a little more private. He needs to warn Neil, Warn Andrew, and warn-

The door to the bathroom SLAMS open and music blares in (palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy-) and his phone slips out of his hands and into the toilet. There are footsteps coming towards him and FF digs deep.

He’s in ultra stealth mode. He is the wall behind the wallpaper. Mantis shrimp can only dream of the color he becomes, the United States military have the CIA on the look out for him because he’s fallen off all conventional forms of radar and tracking.

He is a bargain fruit platter on a dessert table at a kid’s birthday party.

He is ULTRA stealth.

Romero’s gaze glides over him.

Then the man leaves (STILL DID NOT WASH HIS HANDS).

His heart is hammering in his chest but he manages to reach down and grab his phone. Well, Coach Wymack had gotten the extended warranty at least. (“Do you know what these fuckers do to phones? Josten crushed his last year in a fight with the Baseball team captain.”)

His phone’s extended dip into the toilet water had not done it any favors in working properly.

Well fuck.

He wipes his phone down the best he can. He wipes his phone down with some toilet paper before cramming it into his pocket (Sorry Nicky, he’ll wash the toilet water pants if they survive).

He sees a flyer on the wall of the bathroom and starts to think of a plan.

He rushes out of the bathroom (he still washes his hands because he will not have something in common with a man on the FBI’s most wanted list and he just dipped his hand into a CLUB TOILET) and clocks Nicky’s wild arm movements and WORSE clocks Romero just 10 clubbers away.

He sees Romero’s eyes lock onto Nicky and a smile that terrifies him.

He’s out of Ultra Stealth Mode even if every atom in his body wants to run.

He is so stressed and panicked that he has gone beyond his body’s ability to process that so all that is left is determination. He’s got a head full of a half-baked plan, a hand going to his pocket, a second hand on the only ‘weapon’ he has on him, and a stomach full of acid.

He’s pulling his phone out of his pocket before he can really let himself think about it and walking up next to where Romero is standing. He holds his toilet water phone up to his ear and does the one weird social anxiety thing that he had never done before.

He pretends to be on a phone call.

“Hey Captain Neil,” he says and in the corner of his eye he can see Romero’s gaze shift from Nicky (surrounded by an adoring public, covered in sweat and therefore difficult to grab - a difficult target) to himself (alone, shorter, and probably looking like he’s about to pass out). “Yeah I think I’m going to take a break outside after I grab quick drink and then a water at the bar.” He says because he has to be the easier target and he has to go to the bar. “Yeah, yeah, okay I’ll mention it to that bartender guy.” He says and pretends to hang up.

He turns and he walks towards the bar and feels his pulse in his throat go to the beat of the music (success is my only motherfucking option, failure’s not).

He only knows about the alley because in the car ride to Sweetie’s Nicky had mentioned that he wouldn’t let FF’s first time be out there. He had been embarrassed but it was the only way he knew to get Romero out of the club and away from where he could hurt Captain Neil or anyone else in the pursuit of that.

He spots the bartender who had gotten the drinks for their table and his mind completely blanks on the name but the bartender sees him and smiles. “Oh you’re Neil and Andrew’s new friend! What can I help you with? I thought you were-“

“Hi, yes I am Captain Neil and Andrew’s friend.” He says a little loudly because he can feel Romero behind him and he does NOT want the man to know anything about where Captain Neil was.

“Captain Neil? Oh wow that’s adorable.” The man gushes. “What can I help you with? I won’t ask for ID for one of their friends.” He winks.

“I’d like to order the uh…” he tries to remember the exact drink name from the flyer, “…the deluxe chocolate martini?” He asks and knows he got it right when the bartender’s expression shifts ever so slightly.

“Oh yeah, how do Andrew and Neil feel about that?” He asks and oh great a coded conversation. It’s nice to actually be having a real one of these for once instead of just perceiving normal conversations to have hidden meanings.

“They don’t know. They probably prefer that I order it instead of Nicky or Aaron.” He lets his eyes dart to the wide where he believes Romero is watching him.

“I don’t know if that’s true.” The bartender says, “Nicky knows how to handle a drink and Aaron’s not a lightweight either.” He adds.

FF struggles to find a coded way to say ‘It’s not that someone’s hitting on me too hard like the flyer mentioned. It’s that there’s a mafia hitman in your club.’

Finally after a moment, “It’s not the usual kind of drink they get.” He tries and the bartender looks confused by the statement, dammit. He struggles to find a different way to say it before the bartender smiles.

“Y’know you’re really cute.” He reaches under the bar top and grabs a piece of paper and a pen. “How about you write down your number for me cutie? We can meet up sometime.” He says. “I’ll get started on that chocolate martini for you.” He says.

HE COULD KISS THIS MAN.

“I’d like that.” He says.

He writes out a quick message on the small note paper.

‘Armed. After Neil. Looked at Nicky. I’m going to the back alley. Phone is dead.’

The bartender comes back and looks at his note. “We’re out of chocolate martini mix, can I get you something-“ He hopes the club lighting obscures how pale the man got, “something else?” He asks and FF can SEE his pulse.

“Can I just get some water then?” He asks.

The bartender nods and pulls up his phone and hopefully is dialing the police and hands FF a water. His hand grabs hold of FF’s “You don’t need to go out into the alley. You could hang in the backroom with me?” He offers.

There really are some kind people in the world.

“I think it’s better if I’m not in here for a bit.” He says back and honestly he needs this kindness and he has a spare bit of courage, “What’s your name by the way? Sorry I missed it.” He says.

The bartender swallows, “It’s Roland.” He says.

“Thanks Roland.” He twists the cap off of the water bottle and takes a sip.

He turns and pretends not to notice how Romero is trying to be inconspicuous pretending to be on his phone.

He makes his way over to the alley door and notices that Romero is tracking his movements but is not following him like he did to the bar.

His heart is pounding and he can’t BELIEVE he’s doing this. He wants to run, wants to hide somewhere, wants to become imperceptible but…but…

He opens the door to the alley as the bass of the remixed song finishes.

(You can do anything you set your mind to, man)

He lets the door slam behind him and he is alone in the alley.

He was not expecting a van to come to a screeching halt in front of the entrance and for a different face to appear climbing out of the car.

Jackson Plank.

FF looks at the ugly smile on the man as he walks towards him with a knife in hand.

Okay now what genius?

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

5/26/23: EDITED. Can’t believe I forgot to put the Captain in front of Neil’s name on the meme. I’m blaming the accidental early awakening.

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos @pluto-pepsi @dreamerthinker @passinhosdetartaruga @leftunknownheart @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme @tayspots @nick-scar @crazy-fangirl2524 @blue-jos10 @stabbyfoxandrew @splishsplashyouropinionistrash @sammichly @the-broken-pen @bitchesdoweknowu @very-small-flower @ghostlyboiii @its-a-paxycab @bisexual-genderfluid-fan @cheesecookie @theoneandonlylostsock @foxsoulcourt @blueleys @adverbialstarlight @elia-nna @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @nikodiangel @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat @hallucinatedjosten @satanic-foxhole-court @vexingcosmos @chalilodimun @insectsgetcooked @angry-kid-with-no-money @queer-crows @lillyndra @themugglemudperson @readertodeath @apileofpillows @mortalsbowbeforeme @hellomynameismoo @next-level-mess @youreonlylow @interstellarfig @notprocrastinatingatalltoday @percyjacksonfan3 @queenofcrazy27 @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares @spencellio @adinthedarkroom @harpymoth @sufferingjustalilbit @anxietymoss @oddgreyhound @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken @ken22789 @atiredvampire @isoldescorner @not--a--pipedream @azure-wing @bushbees @roonilwazlib-main @crumplelush @foldedaces-paperbirds @thesenseinnonsense @let-tyrants-fear @ketchupfriesandallthingsnice @legowerewolf @deadlydodos @but-we-respect-his-craft @cariniqe @zanypersonapricotbiscuit

The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

Lillyndra it worked this time!!!

#Fluent Freshman AU #Is it a songfic chapter if it's only 3 lines? Experts aren't sure #Did I listen to lose yourself a lot while writing this chapter? Perhaps #If Nora mentioned something about Jackson or Romero in her extras I did not read it #Also gonna be honest here and state that I forgot the likely year that AFTG happened in and this is happening in 2010 #So I guess this AU also involves a slight time shift #Andrew and Neil may have gotten lost in one another's eyes a bit down in the speakeasy #Really they're just being polite to get all of their PDA out of the way while FF is taking what might be the piss of a lifetime.#(They have no idea how accurate that might be)#Andrew is all set to kiss one of his favorite of Neil's freckles (yes he has ordered them from favorite to lesser favorite)#Then his phone goes off #He looks and it's Roland #Andrew: WTF is Roland trying to call me?#Nicky is busy being the Dancing Queen. If someone plays ABBA he will absolutely scream rn #I had considered a whole sequence of FF trying to get Nicky and Aaron to the safety of the backroom in Eden's #And Nicky just keeps reappearing on the dancefloor while FF is looking for Aaron #I was gonna use that simpsons meme where Moe throws out Barney and then Barney is just right back in the bar #But it got a little too crazy #But just know in this AU Nicky is canonically an excellent escape artist #Maybe Erik went through a bit of a magician phase and Nicky was DELIGHTED to be asked to be his assistant #Maybe that's how they got together #The inherent ROMANCE of magician and assistant #I don't remember if they ever really said in the books or nora's content #If I'm rambling because I forgot to shut off my alarm (Memorial Day 4-day weekend baby)#The fate of FF's phone may have been caused by some slight anger towards my own #RIP FF's Wymack phone (July 2010 - November 2010)#AFTG #AFTG AU #Andreil #FF - Pt.19

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afewproblems · 11 months

Note

50. "I need you to forgive me."

You know why...

But please!!!

I know this took forever so I hope you will forgive me! (Also when I originally received this ask I had just posted part one and mentioned in the tags that prompt 50 could be a good 'fix-it' prompt for a follow up, and well, here we are! Also when I received it, I laughed for a solid minute, like evil laughed so thank you @happymediummm )

Part Three of Prompt 53. 'I'm flirting with you!'

Part One, Part Two

It's on Friday that the cavalry arrives.

Dustin bangs on Eddie's bedroom door, with a mace by the sounds of it.

He's about to snark that Dustin doesn't play a class that uses martial weapons when he hears the kid yell--

"Eddie! You have five seconds before I come in there and get you myself, I got your uncle's permission and everything!"

Eddie groans and detaches himself from the bed flipping the pillow he had been wallowing in away from himself.

He stomps towards the door and flings it open, leveling an unimpressed glare at Dustin who barrels past him into the bedroom.

Dustin crosses to the desk, his head on a swivel as he looks around the small space, Eddie scoffs as he steps towards Dustin, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"What the hell are you doing Henderson?" Eddie spits out as Dustin shrugs his hand off, he seems to spy what he's looking for as he crows a single, 'Aha,' and makes his way to the dresser.

"Seriously, Dustin, what are you doing here?"

"Saving you from yourself dude," Dustin scoffs as he takes a tape out of his pants pocket, the familiar writing on the label makes Eddie's stomach fall into his feet.

It's Steve's tape.

"No, nope, absolutely not," Eddie snaps.

He reaches for the cassette in Dustin's hand, only for the little shit to spin away from him and toss the tape from his right to his left hand in a move that seems so much like the teen's babysitter that Eddie wants to scream.

Dustin manages to pop the tape into the player and hit play before Eddie can get close again.

A few notes of a bass guitar reach Eddie's ear and his hands drop from Dustin's shoulders as he perks up…he knows this song.

"What the fuck Henderson?" He breathes out with wide eyes that flick back and forth between him and the cassette player.

'Oh yeah!

Some people say my love cannot be true

Please believe me, my love, and i'll show you

I will give you those things you thought unreal

The sun, the moon, the stars all bear my seal--'

"You are being an idiot," Dustin says matter of factly, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he frowns at Eddie, "I don't exactly know what you said, but I think I got the gist out of Steve earlier today when Robin wasn't acting like a guard dog".

His dark blue eyes scan Eddie as he shakes his head, "you thought it was a joke, do you know Steve?"

Eddie rolls his eyes before crossing to the cassette player and slapping the stop button. All at once the sounds of Black Sabbath halt, leaving the room in tense silence.

"Look," Eddie snarls, "I've known people like Steve over the years, it's all the same bullshit--"

"Stop it!" Dustin snaps, he steps closer to Eddie and jabs a finger into his chest, "you don't know what the hell you're talking about!"

Dustin's cheeks are flushed with anger as he shakes his head again, "he's nothing like that Eddie, you're being an asshole!"

"What is all the yellin' about?" Wayne's voice trickles through the door, a hint of concern running through it as he leans against the frame, eyeing both Eddie and Dustin warily.

"When I gave you permission to barge in here I don't remember agreeing to participate in a screamin' match son,” Wayne says, biting back a smile at the indignant expression on Dustin's face.

"Sorry Mr. Munson, but Eddie's being an idiot!" Dustin crosses his arms once more as he looks from Eddie to Wayne challengingly.

"That so?" Wayne laughs, "care to argue the charge," he directs at Eddie who rolls his eyes.

"It's nothing Wayne, Dustin is leaving now--"

"Steve made that tape for you," Dustin yells, pointing at the cassette player, "and you threw it in his face!"

"That true Ed?"

"It was a stupid joke," Eddie growls as Dustin throws his hands up in the air, "it doesn't mean anything".

Wayne looks at Eddie for a long moment, his face unreadable.

"Steve Harrington?" He asks softly.

Dustin nods nervously at Wayne before shooting another glare at Eddie.

"The one that came by your hospital room every day till you woke up Ed? The one they couldn't get to leave on the day you opened your eyes, that Steve Harrington?"

"So?" Eddie huffs, wrapping his own arms around his chest tightly, incredibly aware of the two pairs of eyes trained on him.

"Wayne, you told me I had to be careful of who I opened myself up to, I'm just following your advice!"

Wayne sighs, lifting his hand to pinch into his eyes.

"You'd be lucky to have a friend like Steve," Dustin grumbles as he moves to the bed to sit down. He pulls up his legs up to his chest and glares at the back of Eddie's head.

"Kid, I think Ed and I need to have a conversation, alone," Wayne says quietly to Dustin.

Eddie watches in fascination as Dustin opens his mouth to argue, but after whatever silent conversation takes place between the teen and his uncle, Dustin merely huffs and slips off the bed.

"Listen to the damn tape and get your head out of your ass," Dustin bites out as he passes Eddie, he levels one last impressive glare at the metal-head before leaving the room.

Wayne sighs as he makes his way over to the bed to sit, taking over Dustin's vacated spot.

"So, Harrington, huh?"

Eddie scowls and says nothing, leaning against the dresser. He winces as the sudden weight of his shoulder jostles everything, causing his loose D&D dice to fall off the edge and plink and plunk across the floor of his room.

The D4 will be a bitch to accidentally find with his feet later on, but Eddie ignores the mess and continues brooding against the dresser.

Wayne scratches his face, tapping an unsteady rhythm against his jean clad knee with his other hand, "okay," Wayne says gruffly from the bed as he shifts to stand.

"I don't know what ya did or said, but it was enough to make that kid beg his way in here," Wayne huffs, hooking a thumb over his shoulder at the open door.

Eddie shrugs, refusing to lift his gaze from the floor. He hears Wayne sigh and the shift of fabric as he steps closer.

"You were so small," Wayne mutters suddenly.

Eddie looks up in confusion, but Wayne isn't looking at him, his eyes are trained just over Eddie's shoulder.

"When you came home that day, all black and blue," he shrugs and scratches his face again, "I didn't know how to help ya, and you wouldn't explain".

Eddie swallows roughly, horrified at the sudden brightness of his uncle's eyes. A man he has only seen cry twice since he's known him, the first time was at Eddie's mothers funeral, the other was the day Eddie woke up at the hospital all those months ago.

"I don't think I could stand it if anything happened to you Ed," Wayne breathes out wetly now as he roughly scrubs at his face, "and you being in the hospital, you were suddenly that small kid again, standing on my porch all black and blue".

Eddie feels his own eyes sting as his uncle turns slightly to wipe his face again, "What are you saying?"

"You weren't alone this time, Ed," Wayne says softly as he steps towards his nephew and grasps him gently by the shoulders, "you have so many more people looking out for you, hell --one of em' carried you home".

"I think a person like that deserves at least a chance to know you, and to see what I see".

It's Eddie's turn to swipe at his misty eyes, "What's that?" He asks with an unconvincing cough to hide the wobble in his voice.

Wayne smiles, giving Eddie's shoulders a soft squeeze, "a damn good kid with a big heart, who I hope knows how to apologize when it's needed".

"But what if you're wrong?"

"Then I'm wrong, and we'll get through it," Wayne tugs Eddie towards him without warning into a tight hug and reaches behind Eddie to press play on the cassette player; the sound of guitar and drums begin again as Ozzy's voice fills the room.

'Your love for me has just got to be real

Before you know the way I'm going to feel--'

"But for the record kid, I don't think I am".

***

Eddie listens to the tape.

He listens to it again and again, both sides. Steve filled both sides with music for him…

He lays on his bed while it plays, staring a hole into the ceiling as the last few piano notes ring out before the tape stops, filling the room with silence.

The songs don't all go with one another and out of a dozen there's about eight he knows. The other four seem to be a mixture of songs he's heard Steve play in the beemer with the kids, or while dancing in his kitchen with Robin.

it's not an expert mix by any means, but Steve did manage to collect a decent amount of metal songs just for Eddie and even a one he's never heard before --since when did Scorpions write love songs?

After hours alone in his room, sitting on his bed, listening to Steve's tape over and over again, there is one thing he can't deny.

Steve Harrington has feelings for him…had feelings for him, and Eddie ruined it.

He wants to take the version of himself that pushed Steve away and shake him.

Eddie winces as he pictures the devastated expression on Steve's face when he left. His normally bright hazel eyes and wide goofy grin were left pinched with hurt.

Eddie had done that, taken six months of tentative friendship, of lingering glances and soft teasing smiles -how had he missed those, and tossed this delicate thing away from himself like it was nothing.

He looks over at the glowing green hands of the clock by his bed. It’s nearly midnight; Dustin left a few hours ago now and Wayne is now at work.

Eddie breathes out a sigh through his nose as a sudden wave of determination flows through him.

He looks towards the far wall by the door, his Sweetheart hanging up on her hooks.

Dustin had apparently insisted on grabbing it, doubling back on a severely sprained ankle while Nancy tore a verbal strip off his back for wasting time as an unconscious Eddie slowly continued to bleed out in Steve's arms.

Eddie shivers, it had been so strange to consider everything that happened, or what he was told happened during the gap in his memory.

Steve had been the one to carry him out while Robin and Nancy helped compress the worst of his wounds with torn fabric and left over gauze from the patch job they had done for Steve.

He vaguely remembers a string of words, a whispered sentence that made no sense as Eddie drifted in and out of consciousness but now…

'You can't do this, come on Munson, open those stupid beautiful eyes of yours, who's going to yell at us about the corruption of youth in America huh? We need you man, I-I….'

Eddie had really been so fucking clueless.

He gets up from the bed and crosses to the wall, taking the guitar off the hooks.

At least now, he has a plan.

***

It was a shit plan.

Cutting down the road the kids had taken to calling Mirkwood and through the woods by Loch Nora seemed pretty sound in theory, giving Eddie the element of surprise and hiding him from any watchful neighborhood eyes.

What he had not taken into account, however, was the pitch darkness, the unfamiliar maze of trees he now found himself in, and how fucking heavy his portable amp was going to be.

Perfect.

Eddie stumbles over a fallen log, nearly careening into the mulch and rotting leaves of the forest floor. The half moon above him, not nearly enough to light his path through the thicket.

At least this version of the woods feels alive, Eddie thinks to himself; the smell of damp dirt and the sound of frogs and crickets singing in the darkness is infinitely more appealing than the strange forest they had found themselves in a mere six months prior. And with the gates finally sealed, the most dangerous thing he could come across would probably be a rattler or a coyote.

Eddie peers around at the thought, he's not quite sure he's entirely comfortable even running into those animals anytime soon…especially the snake.

Finally, after another ten minutes of walking, warm yellow light begins to sift through the trees ahead of him as he brushes away low branches from his field of vision.

Eddie hikes up the guitar strap higher up his shoulder and steps fully into the light that illuminates the Harrington backyard lawn and pool.

Eddie scans the back of the house, flipping the mental map of the Harrington home around to visualize which window was most likely to be for Steve's bedroom.

He steps further into the yard, setting down the heavy amp onto the concrete patio before leaning down to grab a handful of wood chips from the shrubs next to the house.

Here goes nothing.

Eddie tosses one of the pieces of wood at the window above him.

It barely connects with the windowsill before dropping back down onto the patio with a muted clack.

Oh this is humiliating.

He tries again and again to hit Steve's window with the wood chips in his hand, each one completely misses the target. One bounces into the eavestrough, another careens off the siding and back into the pool behind Eddie.

"Fuck this," Eddie growls, throwing the rest of the wood chips back into the shrubs as he snatches the cord for his amp and shoves the plug into the nearest outdoor outlet.

He turns the volume down slightly, the plan won't work if the cops get called on him immediately.

Eddie takes the guitar off his back and plucks a few notes, adjusting one of the tuning keys until the sound is just right.

"Here goes nothing, come on Stevie," Eddie whispers as he begins to play.

"I hear the ticking' of the clock, I'm lying here the room's pitch dark," he sings softly, strumming out the cords, it's slightly harsher than the piano but sue him, Eddie only managed to play it once through by ear at home before he left the house.

This was Steve's last track on the tape, and Eddie's sure he put it there for a reason.

He listened to the song again and again, slowly picking up the cords as he did so.

He could do this, he picked up Master of Puppets in just a few weeks, Eddie could handle Heart.

Eddie keeps going, his voice carries over the yard, growing in volume; so much so that he misses the patio door slowly slide open and the sound of a pair of feet padding onto the patio.

"What are you doing here?" Steve's voice calls out to Eddie from the door, he jumps, nearly dropping the guitar. His hand jolts on the strings as Eddie attempts to keep his hold on the instrument, letting the guitar scream for him.

Steve stares at him as Eddie unplugs the amp cord and swings the guitar around his back once more with shaking hands, his thoughts spinning, trying to figure out how to start.

"I listened to the tape," Eddie says softly, Steve cocks his head slightly to better hear him, his face shuttering as the words register.

Eddie's heart races as he watches Steve begin to turn towards the patio door once more, he needs to act fast.

"And I need you to forgive me," he blurts out, louder than he intends, but Steve does pause with his hands on the door handle.

"Why's that?" He says sharply, dropping his hand away from the door, turning to fully face Eddie once more.

Eddie chews his lip nervously as Steve's gaze hardens the longer they stand in silence, his arms come up to wrap around his chest tightly.

"I thought you were playing a prank," Eddie sighs, saying it aloud makes him want to deflate, to walk right into the pool and sink to the bottom.

If the look Steve gives him is any indication, Steve would be more than happy to watch him go.

"That's a lot of effort to put into a fucking prank Munson," Steve bites out, there is no heat to the words though. He just sounds tired, resigned.

Shit.

"It wouldn't be the first time," Eddie mumbles, he reaches up to scrub his hand over his face, missing the way Steve's face softens ever so slightly and his arms drop from the way they seem to be holding him together.

"But I'm not going to make excuses," Eddie takes a step closer to Steve, his heart threatening to break through his ribcage the closer he gets, "I'm sorry for how I reacted and for thinking you could do something like that".

"I know you aren't like that, you're honest, and kind," Eddie reaches out and takes the tape from his back pocket and gestures towards Steve with it, "and so fucking thoughtful it makes me ache to think I ruined everything".

He puts the tape back in his pocket, Steve’s eyes watch him curiously now as he does, it fills him with wary hope, enough to keep talking.

"So, I need you to forgive me Steve, because I hope you'll let me make it up to you sweetheart".

Steve's face tips down suddenly towards his socked feet and the cold concrete patio, making it impossible for Eddie to make out his expression. He holds his breath as the silence stretches between them.

"Robin was right, you can be such an asshole," Steve says quietly, Eddie's chest tightens painfully at the words.

Eddie nods once,doing everything in his power to keep his face neutral but the downward curl of his lip is unstoppable as he reaches down to pick up the amp.

"But," Steve says, taking a step away from the door behind him, "as someone who was an asshole for a long time," Steve says quietly, pressing the palm of his hand into his chest, "I think it would be pretty hypocritical to not let you make it up to me".

He's grinning now. It’s small, barely stretching across Steve's freckled face, but it's warm and just for Eddie.

"What did you have in mind, Sweetheart?"

Steve is quiet for a moment, his eyes dart over Eddie's face before he finally whispers, "can you finish the song Eds?"

"I think that can be arranged, " Eddie hums with a bright grin of his own.

He swings the guitar off his back again, quickly plugging it into the amp.

Eddie looks up to find Steve smiling softly at him as he takes a seat on one of the pool loungers. He pulls his legs up to rest his arms on his knees, basking in his own private concert.

As the first pink and orange rays of sunrise begin to bloom on the horizon behind him, slowly painting Steve's face gold, Eddie can't help the relief that flows through him.

He looks down at the shy grin Steve gives him, his hazel eyes bright in the new day's light, and thinks, 'holy shit, I almost missed this'.

"You don't know how long I have wanted, to touch your lips and hold you tight," he picks up where he left off, his voice mixing with the slow rhythm of the guitar, “you don't know how long I have waited, and I was going to tell you tonight--”

Eddie watches, surprised as Steve swiftly gets up from the lounger and walks towards him, his expression determined.

"I think that's my line," Steve whispers as he leans in to cup Eddie's face in his hands and kisses him.

Eddie short-circuits.

The kiss is chaste, short, not much more than the brief press of warm chapped lips against Eddie's own, but the way Steve lets his hands move from Eddie's face to his hair and neck, holding him in place. The way Steve steps into Eddie's space so all he can taste, smell, and feel is Steve.

It’s exhilarating.

Steve pulls back slightly before placing a second kiss on Eddie's lips, his eyes half lidded and a deep red flush staines his cheeks and ears a bright red. Steve looks much more debauched than necessary and Eddie suddenly wishes they weren't outside, that he could take Steve into the house and show him exactly how sorry he is.

"I’m sorry, I couldn’t wait, did you learn all of them or just that one?" Steve asks, his voice slightly breathy, he still hasn't let go of Eddie or stepped away.

"Just that one," Eddie repeats dumbly, feeling the urge to walk into the pool again as Steve laughs.

Oh Eddie loves that laugh.

“You sure,” Steve asks again, his eyes crinkle at the sides as he smiles widely, “I thought maybe you could show me some of the other songs you know, inside?”

Either he’s dreaming or Steve is a mind reader because holy shit.

Eddie nods, unable to even form the words as Steve reaches for the amp and gently takes it out of his hands. Steve transfers the amp to his right hand and takes Eddie’s now empty hand with his left as he leads him towards the patio door.

Eddie watches, transfixed, as Steve looks back to shoot him another warm smile as they step over the threshold of the back door, and the words his uncle said earlier in the evening come back to him as Steve leads him towards the living room.

‘I think a person like that deserves at least a chance to know you, and to see what I see’.

Eddie halts his movement, grabbing Steve’s hand firmly in his own, pulling him backwards until Steve turns, his eyebrows furrowed in wary confusion.

“Thank you, for giving me another chance,” Eddie says softly. He lets the hand holding Steve's own move to trail up and down his arm, eliciting a shiver from Steve.

“I mean, you gave me one, you came back right?” Steve says softly.

Eddie's heart twists at the words, he feels his face fall slightly at the thought that Steve could ever think he was somehow at fault for this, “I was an idiot, that wasn’t your fault at all sweetheart”.

Steve looks at him again, his eyes scanning Eddie’s own for what feels like ages, his expression unreadable.

“Co’mere,” he murmurs eventually, letting go of Eddie to sit on the couch. He pats the cushion beside him, with the same soft smile from earlier, “play some music for me”.

There’s more to unpack here, more to talk about, other apologies to whisper in this beautiful man's ear.

But for now, he swings his guitar in front of him and slowly walks over to Steve.

Steve asked for music, and who is Eddie not to oblige?

@ihavekidneys @superchellerific @zerokrox-blog @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @croatoan-like-its-hot @messrs-weasley @samcoxramblings @warlordess @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @lostonceandneverfound @shunna @fairytalesreality @estrellami-1 @rlpersephone3259 @zaphodkilledthespeedforce @newtstabber @grtwdsmwhr @uwujinniee @anica-d @imzadidragonfly @orangeandthefairroadkill @starman-jpg @nabatute @goodolefashionedloverboi @wheatnoodle @novacorpsrecruit @lolawonsstuff @redlegumes @paintsplatteredandimperfect @scheodingers-muppet @thephantomhood @0o-queendean-o0 @blackholegladiator @nerdfighteratheart @hallucinatedjosten

(I hope I haven't forgotten anyone, thank you very much for following along with this little story everyone!)

#this ask brought me so much joy #seriously you guys are the best #steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #steve x eddie #afewproblems writes #afewproblems answers #fixing misunderstandings #we made it sad and then made it better #oh eddie you oblivious sunfish #that boy thinks you hung the moon let him kiss you #Steve still needs some serious therapy for that self esteem #wayne munson gives expert advice and loves his nephew #dustin henderson takes no shit #I think I'll title this Essential Songs to Woo a Metal-Head on AO3

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