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feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years

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chapter eighteen: narcissus staring at his reflection

Another few weeks and another few weeks worth of having her ears blown out by the sheer amount of shows that took place before her, and Sam truly felt herself to be part of the music world as well as the art world. Every night, all the way until the final date in San Antonio, about a week before they had to prepare for the flight up to Oulu, in Finland, Charlie asked her to make a little sketch for him before he went up to the stage as sort of a good luck charm. He lent her a little blank notepad which he had found from the glove box in Anthrax's van, and he always made it specific, as well: they had to be in a sketchy style with strictly a black ink pen.

“Why exactly that?” she asked him one evening while the Cherry Suicides were setting up for their opening gig, and he gestured for her to move in closer to him.

“A little bird told me that Louie got one before I did,” he replied in a low voice.

“Zelda!” she hissed.

“Nah, not Zelda,” he assured her. “I did see it in the front window of Testament's van, though.”

“Oh, I see. Propped it up within their sight so everyone could see it.”

“Exactly! I'll get you more paper, too.”

“Yeah, I'm kind of starting to run low on this notebook paper, if I'm honest.”

But nevertheless, she sprung right to it: a little scratchy drawing of Charlie upon the lined paper, complete with the black curls all around his head. Sometimes, she drew a little drum kit before him to make it look as though it was in fact Charlie there: this was one of those times. Within a few minutes flat, she finished it and signed her initials at the bottom of the page, and then she handed it to him for good luck.

“You ought to compile all of those together in a collection of sorts,” she suggested.

“Like a little book!” He then snapped his fingers; from underneath his bangs, Sam made out the twinkle in his dark eyes. “There's an idea for you.”

“An art book?”

“Yeah! Something to do some day when you're out of school and you've made it big at some point.” He flicked his bangs back and he flashed her a little wink.

“Not soon? While you guys are over in Scandinavia with the girls and with Metal Church?”

“Nah, it'll take too much of your time, if I'm honest. Even I can tell you that. By the way—you heard this from me—” He glanced around him before he returned to her. “—we're gonna be with Ozzy, too.”

“No way!” Her face lit up at the sound of that.

“Yes way! But—” He leaned in closer to her again and he lowered his voice a bit. “—please don't tell Zelda, though. Scott and I want it to be a surprise for her. We got her and Minerva both into Ozzy and Randy Rhoads shortly after the announcement was made that we would be going to Finland. As far as the two of them know, it's just gonna be us with them and Metal Church.”

“Okay—” Sam was cut off by Frank and Dan skirting past her with their guitars in hand. She then glanced down at the notepad in her hands: two pages left, and of course not nearly enough to tithe her over until they left for England at the end of August.

“Also, Zelda wants to talk to you,” Charlie picked up again, that time with a slight clearing of his throat.

“About what?” she asked him.

He shook his head. “Dunno,” he confessed. “She just told me earlier over breakfast that she wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Well, where is she?” Sam wondered about that especially since she had bunked with the Cherry Suicides every night on this stint of the tour. She could have easily spoken to her about it at some point during one of those nights.

“She and Morgan are both signing autographs right now, believe it or not. I guess those girls are getting quite the fan base now. You know it's only a matter of time before they go Testament's route and start their own fan club. Morgan and I were talking about that just this morning over breakfast and I was like 'yes! You totally should at some point. Eric'll probably help you out with that, too, because he's the driving force behind that.'”

“What they get for thrashing all around,” Sam chuckled.

“Right! In fact, I've been seeing a lot more women in our crowds now because of them. Definitely more of the punky type of women given their music—lots of dyed mohawks and black leather and studs, but women nonetheless. From a mile away, I can tell they're all women. Not only do I have to owe it to the four of them, but I want to hand it to you and—” He cleared his throat. “—Marla and Belinda especially. Our first real big female fans.” Without a moment's hesitation, he put his arms around her and Sam returned the favor.

She then tucked the notepad into her pocket and before she could step away, Charlie spoke again.

“Did—Marla move into her new place by chance? I know it's been a while. I'm just—you know, just kinda curious.”

“I think she did?” Sam recalled: every night seemed to melt into itself, despite the new surroundings each and every time. “I'll have to ask her when I see her tonight, because I'm not too sure if I'm honest. I called her from the room last night and she told me that she's waiting for a direct deposit from me. And I promised her I'll get it once you guys run off to Finland, 'cause that's when I get the money from Jon.”

“I see. You know, I, um—” He cleared his throat again. “I still think about her from time to time.”

Sam squinted her eyes at him, and she flashed back on the night in which Marla came with her and Joey to her parents' house.

“She told me—you guys broke up because you have feelings about someone else.”

“And I do,” he answered, frank.

“Do you mind me asking?” She lowered her voice enough to where only he could hear her over the commotion around them. He nibbled on his bottom lip and he gazed off to the side.

“I won't tell anyone,” she vowed. “I promise. I'm not like Belinda—I'll keep a secret.”

He chuckled at that, but then his expression turned serious once again.

“Rosita,” he replied through gritted teeth.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He nodded at her. “She's just—she's a babe. She rocks, too. Just the way she plays bass, man, it just—it kind of reminds me of the way Frankie plays bass and the way Cliff used to play bass, too.”

Her heart skpped a few beats at the sound of Cliff's name.

“Real friendly and just—” He shook his head again. “I've tried to ask her out but I just never got the courage to do so yet.”

“You ought to,” Sam told him. “Cliff did and we just clicked from that point on. For all you know, she might be the one for you.”

Charlie sighed through his nose and he nibbled on his bottom lip again.

“It's a long flight up to Helsinki from here,” he said. “That's a long time to think of the right words. I just don't really like being put on the spot like that. When I asked Marla out, she and I were all alone. It's just—finding that solitary moment, you know?”

“Yeah. 'Cause we're surrounded by people constantly.”

“Right. Exactly, yeah! I can always pull her aside—like when people are getting off of the plane. I'll ask her right there.”

“You should.”

“I don't wanna make any promises, though, 'cause something always come up. Things always come up, especially while on tour.”

“Right...”

“But I'll give it a shot, though,” he told her. “That's the only promise I can genuinely make is that.” He sighed through his nose and he glanced down to his hands. “And thank you for this, by the way.” He flashed the little sketch to her.

“Just—an artist to another artist.”

“Exactly!” Charlie peered over his shoulder to the other side of the room to the front doors and he knitted his eyebrows together. “Time is it?”

“I think it's almost noon?”

“I think Zelda might be on break. Why don't you go talk to her?”

Sam then nodded her head and once she tucked the notepad into her purse, she ambled over to the stairs at the edge of the stage; she padded across the narrow strip of carpet before the stage and then she made her way up one of the two aisles that split the rows of seats into neat thirds. She reached the double doors at the top there and she pushed open the one on the right: indeed, right in the front lobby of the theater was Zelda and Morgan seated at a low white table with felt tip pens in hand. The former had combed her back into a slick pompadour upon her head while the latter had on a bright red cowgirl hat and red lace gloves on her hands, complete with a red and black lace brassiere under a red lace bolero.

Zelda then turned her head and her face lit up at the sight of Sam.

“Hey, there she is!” she declared. “We were just discussing special outfits for tonight's show, given we're in Texas and whatnot.”

“Kinda makes me wish I had my black hat with me,” Sam confessed with a pat of her own head.

“We could be dead cowgirls,” Morgan said with a smirk on her face. “With nooses around our necks and splatters all over our hats.”

“Dead punk cowgirls,” Zelda corrected her with a nod. She then returned to Sam. “So what's up?”

“You wanted to talk to me about something?”

She hesitated and then she gasped and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, that!” Her expression then turned serious. “Been meaning to tell you this for a couple of days now, and it just keeps slipping from memory. Just because I have other, important things to worry about and remember.”

Sam lingered next to her, and the edge of the table.

“Another reason to be nicer to Alex the next time you see him,” Zelda started again as she held the pen in between two fingers.

“What's that?” Sam asked her, and she hesitated once more.

“Do you ever notice how bullies tend to travel in packs,” she pointed out, and Sam stopped right in her tracks.

“What do you mean?”

“They travel in packs and the ones getting picked on are usually solitary.” She turned to Morgan. “Wouldn't you agree, Mo? That bullies travel in packs and their prey often stands alone?”

“Oh, yeah. And it's always a sign of vulnerability, too. They won't admit it, though. But why do you think—cowgirls—punks—metalheads—all travel in packs? Same mindset. Bullies have a similar mindset, but they refuse to admit it.”

Sam frowned at that as Zelda returned her attention to her.

“They travel in packs because they know they're weak on their own. So—my suggestion, Sam.” Zelda twirled the pen in between her fingers. “The next time you see him, like when we're out in California when we get home from Finland—talk to him. And really talk to him, too. That boy deserves it. He just looks—lonely to me. I don't really know his full story, other than what Louie, Zetro, and Greg have all told me about him, but I feel like he's an easy target. So—the little blow up you guys had makes me wonder if he sees you in a shitty light, and I know you're not like that at all. But he needs to know that. He needs to know that you're of good stature. I know it's gonna be hard, given he's so hard himself but—he's still just a young buck, though. We've met a few teenagers signing autographs in here—and it's just so cool to see. These young girls—a lot of boys, too—”

“The girls come for the music, the boys come for something else,” Morgan joked.

“Right!” Zelda burst out laughing, and then she straightened herself out. “But—we've been seeing these kids coming through here in Texas—and there were those kids in Portland, too. And I think it was that bunch—in Tacoma and also in Portland, that got me thinking about Alex again, because he's still just a kid and we haven't seen him in a few weeks 'cause they're with Overkill right now. And I just think—he's legally an adult, but he's still just a boy, though. So—try to talk to him if you can. Let him know that he belongs with the whole gang and everything.”

“It's a little bit hard for us,” Morgan filled in, “because we're punks. We're a punk band. A punk band opening for a metal band, so it just feels a little weird with us and whatnot.”

“But we think that,” Zelda continued, “—since you and him actually have a little bit of history with Cliff especially—you could do it better with him than any of us can.”

“Why us, though? Don't you think one of the guys from Testament could try and talk with him?”

“Because they're dudes,” Zelda replied with a flutter of her eyelashes, “they're not good with feelings like us. I actually tried doing that with Louie once and he was struggling with it, I could tell. One of the things that drove me nuts about him was how it almost felt like I couldn't talk to him about anything on an emotional level.”

Sam thought about that night in Boston, where Louie confessed that Zelda was his affair, and she tightened her lips at the very thought of that. Yet another secret to keep under wraps.

“Anyways—if you could do that, he could probably be a little more—present, I'd say? I was actually talking to Louie just last night and I guess they've been struggling lately.”

“Why's that?” Sam asked her.

“I guess they've been kicking serious ass with the music lately but—they're sorta lacking with the presence. Alex moves around a little bit but he's like stilted, though.”

“They're getting accused of being too much like Metallica, too,” Morgan added.

“Yeah, that's another thing! Chuck apparently sounds way too much like James which is horse shit to me. There's a little parallel there given they're all from the San Francisco Bay Area, but I don't really see it to be honest.”

A knock on the glass door to up the lobby from them caught their attention. Sam recognized that head of fiery red hair in the midday sun outside as she peered in through the smoked glass pane. Fiery dyed red hair coupled with large brown sunglasses, a white camisole over a matching long skirt, and a big shabby hand bag.

“Hey, it's Marla!” Sam called out; she padded over to the doors but before she reached Marla there, she returned to Zelda and wagged a finger at her.

“I'll remember that,” she vowed, and Zelda nodded her head at her. Sam then opened the door and she was greeted by a blast of hot humid air in stark contrast to the air conditioner around her.

“Hey, you!” Marla greeted her and she stepped inside the lobby and shut the door behind her.

“I was wondering when you'd get here,” Sam replied and they embraced one another.

“So Bel and Aurora helped me move my things into the new place in Hell's Kitchen,” Marla started again as she took off her sunglasses, “I just need the other side of the first month's rent and the deposit, too.”

“Well, this is the last date of the tour before they—” Sam gestured back to Zelda and Morgan at the table. “—head up to Helsinki next week. That's when I get paid.”

“Okay, good!” Marla then reached into her hand bag for something and she took out her big Polaroid camera.

“Hey, I remember that.”

“Oh, yeah, we got together at L'Amour—many moons ago, and you made that drawing of me and Charlie. And you used that Polaroid, too. I decided, eh, why not have it again?”

She turned back to Sam again.

“You wanna get something to drink? I'm like dying of thirst right now.”

“I'd love to.”

“You ladies wanna join us?” Marla called to Zelda and Morgan.

“We're shooting the rock star bullshit and signing autographs,” Zelda replied. “We should be seeing more people coming through here in about ten minutes.”

“Yeah, I saw a bunch of people standing out in the shade around the corner here. I thought maybe they showed up early for will call.”

“Nah, it's for them,” Sam told her. “They're actually starting to make serious headway in the music world now.”

“Right on! Anyways, there's a juice bar right up the street here. We can sit in the shade, too, and I just heard that we're not too far from the River Walk and the Alamo, either.”

“So you can literally call me Sam Houston now!”

Zelda and Morgan laughed out loud at that.

“Right!” Marla chuckled. “But anyways, it's actually not bad out—it's just the sun is hotter than holy fuck is all.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Sam returned to Zelda and Morgan. “I'll see you girls later—”

The two of them stepped outside to the sun as it hung high in the clear blue sky over their heads. Indeed, it wasn't that hot out, but the contrast of the air conditioner and the sunlight on their heads and the sidewalk around them made Sam wish for one of those large oak trees to cover their heads all the way up the block to the corner.

“So we've got a nice view of the water,” Marla told her.

“And it's close to school, too, I remember you telling me that.”

“Yeah, it is! No more taking the stinkin' subways so much. And by the way, Bel told me to tell you that, yes—we will help you. We kinda have to help you.”

“I moved cross country,” Sam recalled, “with the help of my parents, and almost by sheer luck, I met Frankie and Joey, but yeah—I could definitely use a little help.”

They reached the juice bar in question and Sam took to the table right before the front door, right underneath an oak tree and a pair of short stubby palmetto trees, and she set her purse down before her. Marla offered to buy up for her given she hadn't a lot of money on her at the moment.

“I'm just gonna use the bathroom real quick, though,” she told her as she set her purse down on the table before her. Sam nodded her head as she watched Marla head inside of there: that cherry red hair as bright as the very sun itself. Sam gave her hair a toss back and a light breeze came up from behind her. Still not enough to beat the intense summer sun, and she reached into her purse for a ponytail holder.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed something by the corner to her left. As she tied up her hair, she looked over and spotted Joey at the corner of the building. He was looking at something, but she couldn't tell as to what he looked at there.

She set her hands down on her lap and she watched him. He stood before the glass and he leaned back a bit. He was looking at his own reflection.

She had an idea.

That in and of itself could act as her newest painting, and she would put more thought into it this time around. She knew he would move at some point. He turned his back to her right then. She had nothing with her but the little notepad and the ink pen in her purse.

But then again, Marla's camera stood right there on the table next to her. Without a second thought, she picked up the camera and she pointed it in Joey's direction. All the times she thought of making a stained glass window about his likeness.

Slim and delicate, almost elegant in fact. The black curls sprawled down his back towards his thin waist. The white shirt he wore only accentuated the thinness of his body and the richness of his curls.

She took out the camera and she took the cover off of the lens. She peered in through the aperture and there he was, right within her line of sight.

“C'mon, Joey, turn to the side again,” she muttered to herself; she rested her finger on the bottom on top. For a second, she felt like a genuine photographer. “The other side. C'mon, Marla's gonna be back soon.”

Like magic, he turned to the right side. She pressed the button and the flash dissipated with the midday sun so he couldn't see it. The camera spat out the Polaroid and she took it before anyone could see it for themselves. She waved it about so the ink would settle in on the paper.

His slim body was as flat as a washboard, and his curls sprawled down towards his waist like tentacles. He had slightly bent his legs at the knees all the while, but she knew she had the perfect subject to work with no one was looking. The decision now was between acrylic paints on canvas once again, or to go forth with the stained glass idea. If she carried out the latter, she would have to take a better shot of him, or he would have to sit still for her again, and she had no idea as to when he would do that again for her.

But she chuckled to herself as she looked on at the photograph in hand. She glanced up and she recognized Marla's head of cherry red hair on the other side of the glass, thus she quickly slipped the camera back into Marla's hand bag and she stashed the Polaroid into her own. Joey then strode away from the glass reflection and towards the front door of the juice bar for himself.

Some day, she would carry out that stained glass idea with him. It was a matter of when and how. Add to this, as she peered into her purse once again, she spotted that little plastic bag at the bottom there. A little more inspiration was all she needed, courtesy of Joey himself. But she had no lighter to do that just yet.

She took another glimpse up to the front door of the bar, and Joey had made his way inside; Marla then doubled back outside, right past him and towards the table once again. She squinted her eyes against the hot summer sun.

“So they've got all manner of smoothies and good stuff for us.”

“I'll take blueberry if they have it,” Sam told her.

“The special for today is blueberry pomegranate.”

“I'll have that then!”

Marla opened her bag for her wallet and frowned at what she saw before her.

“What happened here?�� she wondered aloud.

“What do you mean?”

She picked up her camera and she delved about the bottom of the hand bag for something.

“The cover came off of the lens.” And Sam shook her head at that given she merely tossed the lid in there. Marla stuck the cover back on and then she returned for her wallet.

“It is getting kind of long in tooth, though. I've had it a long time... anyways, I'll be right back. And Joey's in there, by the way!”

“Oh, boy!” Sam felt her face grow warm at the sound of that, and Marla returned to the front door once again. The sight of Marla putting the cover back onto the lens made her think of Zelda's words to her. She could keep a secret, and yet she needed to heed by that promise as well. She reached into her purse again, and that time for the notepad and the pen.

The last night of the North American stint for the time being and she could fill in the next two pages there with some other things. She lifted the penultimate page and then she set the pad down on the table before her.

“'Talk to Alex,'” she muttered to herself as she wrote the words down on that final page of the notepad. Now she had something else to live to, especially since Marla knew nothing about what had happened that morning in her own city.

#fanfic #fanfiction #anthrax fanfic #anthrax #charlie benante #joey belladonna #chapter 18 #fever in fever out #fever in fever out fanfic #book three #a skeleton in the closet #artistry #also on wattpad #also on ao3 #writing #text

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #421

“hunted by hundreds and never to be caught / descent to wander, bring terror and take 'em all beyond”

Which do you prefer, donut holes, jelly filled donuts or normal donuts? Normal donuts. When you get old, are you going to make a will? I mean probably. Ever made your own definition for something on Urban Dictionary? No. What do you call your grandparents? "Grammy" and "Grampa." Do you like weddings? Not especially because I'm a bitter fuck. Do you want to live in a dorm in college? I never wanted to, so I never did. Have you ever had your tonsils taken out? No. Are you single/taken/crushing/confused? Single/confused. Is your best friend single? Yes. Is your first real best friend still there for you? I mean we have one another on Facebook, but that's the extent of it. Do you still care for your first love? Very much. I hope he's doing okay since his mother passed. What color is your blanket? Navy with black swirls. Are you listening to music right now? Yes. I am obseeeeeessed with Alissa White-Gluz's cover of Powerwolf's "Demons Are a Girl's Best Friend." Have you ever felt as if you lost your one true love? I feel like that all the time. But I should add that I don't believe there is JUST ONE person designed for you. There are way, way too many people on this earth to have just a single, perfect match. Which do you like better: Bowser, Mario, Luigi, or Princess Peach? Well I mean I always picked Luigi in Mario Kart, so I got a bias, ha ha. How many tattoos do you have? Six. Plenty, PLENTY more to come, though. Would you ever consider getting a mohawk? No. What do you like to do most in your free time? Do random shit on the computer. What’s your work title? Unemployed. Do you pay rent? I don't. What was the reason behind the last time you wore a bandage? I cut my finger opening up a cup of yogurt. Yes, I'm serious. What music artist have you listened to a lot lately? Powerwolf, lately. And Motionless In White. Who is taller, you or your best friend? Me. When was the first time you ever listened to your favorite music artist? Well, as a little kid, Mom would play some Ozzy in the car occasionally, and I actually loved "Perry Mason" so much that I would ask for her to play it. Growing up I'd obviously heard "Crazy Train" through random things, but I never truly listened to him until I got into middle school and went through my mother's CD case, discovering new music as I got into rock and metal. Do/did your siblings cause trouble? Nah, not really. If your siblings are old enough, what do they do for work? I honestly don't remember my half-siblings' positions, but my immediate younger sister is a children's social worker, and my older sis is a mammographer. Have you ever been jealous of your siblings? Jealous, no. Envious, extremely. They know what the hell they're doing with their lives and making shit happen. Do you still live with your parent/s or do you live alone/with a partner? I live with my mother. What feeling do you have the most difficulty in expressing? Jealousy. How do you think you would handle yourself in a crisis situation? Freeze up and probably die lol. Does any particular season make you happier than others? Why/why not? Yes, autumn. It's not hot as fuck, the air always feels so fresh to me, and I love the many colors of fall. It's just... chill. Can you adapt to change easily? Any examples? FUCK. NO. Do you see yourself as worthy of love? Why/why not? This answer can change from "yes, because I'm a good human" to "fuck no because I'm worthless" in 0.5 seconds. Do you think you are competitive? Do you really dislike losing? Not in general, but I can be in some areas. What would you be famous for? Fuck if I know. If you had to, would you rather dye your hair red or black? Red. I loved my hair when it actually took red dye well. What do you typically do on Easter Day? Go to my older sister's house. Have you ever viewed the moon through a telescope? No. Do you normally finish one book before starting another? Always. If you were given the chance to be immortal, would you take it? Heeeeeell no. Would you pierce your nipples for $100? Almost certainly yes; I mean that's $100 for something I can just take out if I don't like it. Have you ever dated someone who had a child? No. Would you ever consider adoption? Even if I wanted a child, no. I know I would need either the blood connection or for the child to be my partner's that I truly love. Do you tend to go for guys/girls with certain eye/hair colors? No, I really don't care how you look on the outside. Do you know anyone who plays guitar? Yes. Do you live within an hour of the ocean? More like two hours. What are you currently sitting/laying on? My bed. Have you ever dated a friend of one of your siblings? No. Did you have an imaginary friend as a child? An imaginary wolf, yeah. Which parent do you look most like? My mom, I think. Ever failed a test? Yes. That's all I did in algebra during my last college attempt. Do you have any friends who are famous? No. Your most recent ex breaks down and tells you they love you, what do you do? Well I know she loves me as a friend, but idk if she still does romantically, but either way, I'd tell her I love her too and ask if I can do anything for her. You and your last ex: who should hate who? Neither of us. We have a perfectly fine relationship. Do you believe you pick who you fall in love with? Definitely not. Last thing you ate? I had a peanut butter sandwich for breakfast. Are you obsessed with someone? *discreetly eyes Markiplier* If you had to write a brief message on a dollar bill that many people would eventually see as the currency circulates, what message would you write? I'd have to think longer on this, but definitely something about not putting so much worth into the money and not allowing greed to rule the individual. What serves as the greatest motivation for you in your daily life? The hope for a happy, prosperous future. If you were a multimillionaire, what do you believe you would be doing at this very moment? Well, it's morning and this is my prime time to really just chill and do my first scope of the Internet, so I'd probably be in a beautiful house in the woods of the mountains by a beautiful waterfall. I'd have the windows down to listen to nature, make sure via AC if necessary that it's cool... Damn, that sounds nice. If you could have a cookie jar full of anything you wanted, except money or cookies, what would it be full of? Hm. Perhaps a very motivational quote that I'd draw each day, kind of like fortune cookies, but actually good and applicable, ha ha. If someone were looking for you in a bookstore, in what section would they be most likely to find you? YA or fiction. If your ex came up to you and asked you to take them back, what would you say? Anyone but Jason or Sara would be an automatic "no." Jason would have to really prove himself. Sara, I'd be willing, but would ask her if that's what she really wants given our positions right now. Do you think Ke$ha is annoying? I don't know anything about her personally. I actually liked her music back in the day, even when I was all about metal. Last time you were hit on? No idea. Do you ever write in pencil any more? I always do if I have that option. I don't like that you can't erase with a pen. If you HAD to get a piercing (not ears) what would you get? At this current time, my right nostril again. What do you wish you had more knowledge about? Politics. Would you ever get someone's name tattooed on you? Noooo. Do you have a lot of scars? Yes. I scar very easily. Have you ever had stitches? Twice. Have you ever dealt with a divorce or parents fighting or any kind of abuse at home? Before my parents divorced, there was a lot of fighting. Do you remember the person you first kissed? Of course I do. Have you ever kissed someone you weren’t dating? No. Who was the last person you fell asleep with? Sara. Have you ever listened to music you hated just to fit in? "Hated," no. I just tried to get into bands that I just couldn't, but didn't hate. Ever been called babe? Yeah. What is your favorite Pop-Tart flavor? Chocolate sundae. Have you ever made your parents cry? Yeah, sadly. Do you wear glasses? Yeah. And yet I'm still blind with 'em. Have you ever made out with somebody on a bed? Yeah. Are you tan? Most definitely not. How did you meet the last person you texted? She kinda like, gave birth to me. Next big event? My nephew's fifth birthday. Ugh, how is he getting that old. Do you think you have to be skinny in order to be beautiful? Fuck off, no. There are some gorgeous/attractive plus-sized people. Have you ever made out on a couch? Yes. Has the last person you kissed ever seen you cry? Oh god, she witnessed me sob once. Would you ever get gauged ears? I want very small gauges in my bottom earlobe piercings. What is your favorite sushi? Ew. Have you ever been in a school talent show? What for? Noooo sir. What were you like at 17? Oh god... so sad and yet so happily, madly in love at the same time. I both love and hate that era. Tell us about your worst date. Haven't really had a bad one. I had one with Tyler that was an adventure that most would consider awful (flat tire, had to walk in the whipping wind), but I had fun, ha ha. What should be illegal that isn’t already? I dunno. What’s the song you most wish you had written? Probably John Lennon's "Imagine." What is the worst break up you have experienced? Y'ALL KNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW. Do your parents wish you were more successful? Oh, I am CERTAIN they do. They'd never admit it, I'm sure, but I know I'm disappointing. I had so much promise in school. Has a significant other called you unattractive before? WOW, no. Has a significant other ever called you by the wrong name? omg no Have you ever caught someone doing something bad? Cheating on their bf, yes. Has a dentist ever screwed up on anything when working on you? No, I don't think so. What is the worst birthday you have ever had? My 16th. I felt very, very unloved. I don't even like going into it. Have you ever been spit on by a llama? No. Have you ever locked yourself out of your car/house? The house, yes. With my elderly dog with arthritis, in the middle of winter after a good snow. I was freezing, sitting on the front porch and eventually crying. My phone was inside so I couldn't reach my mom, who was at work. As night came, I finally broke and went down the street knocking on my neighbors' doors, and probably the worst fucking one opened. With a gun in his hand. He was apparently an ex-sheriff, and he clearly didn't trust me. He was kind enough to let Teddy, who was incontinent and marked territory, inside (thank fuck he didn't pee in the guy's house), and he gave me a jacket, but Christ, we played 20 goddamn questions to see if I was legit, I'm assuming. I was beyond thankful when Mom finally got there when I used his phone to call her. And as it turned out? The door wasn't even fucking locked, our old dog just jammed the hell outta it by jumping. I was so, so pissed.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''beast of gévaudan'' by powerwolf

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alison-anonymous · 4 years

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flawsome bandits pt. 5 ♡ sonic

Flawsome Wanted Posters

I know, I know, two updates in one day but the encouragement I’ve been receiving has given me WRITER SUPERPOWERS so I decided that if I finished another chapter today that I’d upload it for you darlings! I’m also uploading this on Wattpad too if any of you are interested! Love you all and please enjoy!

Warnings - lack of gifs, I couldn’t find any for this part I’M SO SAWRY :’(

♡♡♡

Tom’s eyes watered from the smoke as he slowly forced himself up into a sitting position. His lungs screamed from the new chemicals being introduced to them, causing him to cough like a smoker. Once the clouds of smoke finally cleared and his vision finally returned to him, he looked to see if the two kids were okay.

...it was the exact opposite.

Amidst the burning dried grass, Y/n and Sonic lay facing each other, unconscious. They had some soot and chemicals from the explosion still on their skin and Y/n had dirt in her hair, their mouths slightly open and limbs strewn about in unnatural angles. Tom’s heart stopped beating as he ran over to his daughter, pulling her head into his lip.

“Y/n,” he shook her body, checking her pulse. It was weak, but it was there. He checked Sonic’s next. It was the same. Tears threatened to spill out of his eyes as he brushed the hair out of his daughter’s face. Sure, they had had some rough times… but she was his kid. “Come on, you guys are alright… get up.” For once in his life, his voice sounded weak and desperate. He didn’t want these kids to die! Who would? He quickly scooped up Y/n into his arms, hating the way that her body hung limply to the sides.

“...you’re going to be okay.”

♡♡♡

It had taken quite a lot of convincing for Tom to be able to make it past the foyer of his sister-in-law’s house, even with Maddie trying to convince her. Once the poor unconscious Sonic was revealed from underneath the sheet Tom had been hiding him under, Maddie’s skepticism only grew. The two watched as her sister fell onto the floor, unconscious.

“Where’s Y/n?” She asked in concern.

“In the car…” Tom’s expression fell to rock bottom. “She’s in no better condition.”

His words kicked Maddie into gear as she burst out the door in search for her daughter, leaving Tom standing there with Sonic. She ran out to the truck as fast as she could, having to hold back a scream once she realized that the top was missing. There Y/n was, just as Tom had said, lying down in the backseat with her hair in a mess and her clothes covered in dirt. Her hands had cuts and bruises on them and while she could still see the rise and fall of her stomach, they came in very short, very rapid breaths. Maddie quickly picked her daughter up and hugged her to her chest, begging herself not to cry.

“Hey there, sweetie,” she whispered to the body as she picked her up bridal style and began to carry her back into the house. “You’re going to be just fine… I promise.”

About a half hour later, Maddie finally returned from upstairs where she had tended to Y/n’s wounds and set her up in her bed to rest. Ozzy was in there keeping watch over her while her sister remained tied to a chair in the living room. Tom and Jojo stood over Sonic’s unconscious body as he lay as stiff as a board on the kitchen island. As Maddie came over carrying her vet kit, she gently pushed her husband aside and did her best not to let her inner emotions of disgust show.

“Is he going to be okay? Can you help him?” Tom asked worriedly, trying to do his best to keep his cool in front of his niece. Maddie shot him an annoyed side glance and sighed.

“Tom, I don’t even know what I’m looking at right now-”

“He’s a hedgehog,” Tom frets. “Or at least that’s what he says.”

“He talks?” Maddie’s eyebrows raised as she began to get ready to test his pulse. Tom nodded.

“He never seems to shut up. He’s grown really fond of Y/n.” The last part came out a little more bitter than he had intended, but it was just his good father nature to be snippy about boys. Maddie slowly processed the information as she pressed her fingers against Sonic’s wrist, glancing at her watch. As soon as she felt the blood pumping through his veins, her eyes widened.

“H-his pulse is insanely fast,” she muttered.

“Maybe that’s normal for him, he is sort of a speed demon,” Tom tried to reason. She nodded slightly and then proceeded to feel about his body for any broken limbs or torn ligaments. Once she was decently satisfied with that, she began to take off his tattered shoes, revealing socks with holes in them that were doing their best to protect his adorable hedgehog feet. Jojo grabbed a hold of one of the shoes and disappeared into another room while Maddie turned back to her husband.

“I don’t feel any broken bones. I think he’ll be fine, he’s just a little beat up. Poor little guy has some pretty rough feet,” she sighed. Tom finally exhaled for the second time that day, the first being after he found out Y/n was going to be okay. He took the nail he had been chewing on out of his mouth and sighed.

“Wait, don’t you have any of those smelling salts for pets?” He asked hopefully, eyes wide. Maddie furrowed her brows and did her best to accept her husband’s slight stupidity.

“I have HUMAN smelling salts,” she chuckled. He nodded rapidly, a sign that she should grab them. The second that she snapped the smelling salt and held it up to the blue hedgehog’s nose, his dreamy green eyes popped open.

“Gotta go fast!” Sonic yelled, leaping off of the counter and zipping around the room so fast that you could barely even see him. Maddie’s eyes widened in horror as Tom stared in awe, amazed at how the little guy could come out of this with barely a scratch. Sonic finally came to a stop to stand on the counter and smiled at the two.

“Oh, hey Pretzel Lady!” Maddie gave him a small wave, the horror beginning to show in her eyes as she stared at him. Sonic opened his mouth to continue when he suddenly froze, counting the heads in the room. There was a Donut Lord… but someone was missing. The gears quickly clicked in his head as he remembered the explosion.

“Where’s Y/n?” He asked, panic beginning to rise as his green eyes looked around frantically for the girl he was growing very attracted to. Tom quickly held up his hands to help calm him down.

“Don’t worry, she’s safe. Maddie took care of her, she’s just resting upstairs.”

“She’s okay? Thank God,” Sonic breathed a sigh of relief. Maddie couldn’t help but smile at how concerned this creature was for her daughter. It was heartwarming to see someone else hold such a deep regard for her than she and Tom did. But the smile soon faded as she grabbed onto Tom’s sleeve and tugged on it forcefully.

“Uh, Tom, sweetie, can I talk to you for a moment? Without the, um, alien hedgehog?” Tom nodded slowly, following her out of the room. She closed the white sliding doors behind her, leaving Sonic alone in the kitchen. He let out a soft groan as the pain in his head slowly came back, still throbbing with every pulse. He hoped that Y/n was doing okay.

Sonic’s eyes slowly made their way towards the stairwell.

Upstairs, she said?

♡♡♡

Buried underneath a sea of covers lay a very beat up teenage girl. She had bandages wrapped around her arms and her hair had been brushed out of her face in order for her mother to clean the dirt off of her skin. Her eyes remained closed as her mouth was parted slightly, the steady rise and fall of her chest barely seen from the comforter she was under. The metal box that had been resting beside her in the truck was resting on the nightstand next to her, practically staring at her while she slept.

Y/n was having the strangest dream.

She was much shorter than she remembered being, and she seemed a lot more hairy than usual. She’d have to buy a new razor. And she was with someone, but it was so blurry that all she could see was the color blue. Green was all that she could see for miles, filled with amazingly exotic waters and plantations and-

Wait. What was that noise? Y/n strained her ears as she heard that eerily familiar tune once again. It was the singing she had heard in the car. It was back.

Ah~, ah~. High and low, then high and low again.

She twirled around, e/c eyes searching for the source, but everything was so blurry that she couldn’t see. Like a camera that simply refused to focus. She stumbled around, listening to the song. It was beautifully mysterious, and she felt like… like it was meant for her to hear. Like it was trying to tell her something. It contained that same feeling she felt whenever she looked at Sonic - like she had heard it, seen it all before.

But where?

Y/n woke up with a start, gasping for air as she sat up in bed. A thin layer of sweat coated her forehead as she moved the loose strands of hair out of her eyes. Her pulse began to rise as she looked around the room, recognizing it as her mother’s room from her aunt’s house. Her e/c eyes closed as she tried to steady her breathing. What was that all about?

Ah~, ah~.

She gulped. There it was again. The music that only she could hear, it seemed. But even though she wanted to be afraid or worried about it, the idea only seemed to draw her in with curiosity. Even though she tried to tell herself not to, her gaze slowly drifted from the sheets over to the box sitting on the nightstand. The song sang softly to her, a little quieter now that it had gotten her attention, like a shy child. But still it called.

Y/n slowly moved the blankets aside and swung her legs off the side of the bed. Her socked feet gently tapped the floor, creaking in uneasiness as they hadn’t been used in a couple hours. Her curious e/c orbs watched the little box closely, head tilting slightly to the side as she listened to it sing. Did she dare? She never did promise not to touch the vials or inspect them closer, so it wouldn’t do any harm to take one more peek without Sonic or Tom… right?

Y/n very cautiously reached her hand out to the box, gently wrapping her bandaged hand around its cold surface and lifting it over to her lap. The singing quieted down even more as she flipped open the lid. Interesting, she thought. How hadn’t she noticed that the vials glowed in the dark before? Maybe because it had been in the day when they found them, she figured. And it was dark in the room because of the blackout curtains on the window.

She lifted out Sonic’s vial, the bright yellow one and held it up to her eyes. It really did look like nothing but pee, so what was it? Her eyes scanned over the label once more, searching for anything that didn’t feel out of place. There had to be something here she was mis-

Oh. Oh, wait.

Sonic’s vial wasn’t singing. Her brows furrowed in confusion. But… both of them had been singing, right? At least, something in the box had been singing. She held it to her ear and waited for what seemed like forever for the mystical tune to come floating out of it like magic.

Silence.

Huh. That was weird. She carefully set Sonic’s vial back into its rightful spot next to hers, watching as the liquid sloshed around in the tiny glass. Well, there was only one other thing left in the box. Her vial. Y/n bit her lip as she raised her own vial out of the box, eyes wide open as she watched the icy blue liquid glitter in the darkness. She twirled the vial around in her hands for a moment, inspecting every inch of it as she grew accustomed to holding it. But what was it for?

She flipped the vial back over to the label on the back. Emergency reversal… emergency reversal. Why would there be something needed to be reversed? Was it for her? Y/n spent what felt like hours just sitting there, wracking her brain for an answer to the seemingly impossible question as to why these vials were here. And then it finally clicked into place.

Had someone… done something to her? To Sonic? Something that they didn’t know about?

I mean, it would explain a couple of things. Maybe that was the reason why she and Sonic felt such a strong connection to one another and they only met a couple days ago. Maybe that was why Y/n had amnesia, a case that no one could solve. The dream that she just had… maybe it meant something. But who would have done this? Did she and Sonic know each other before? But how could that have been possible? She was a human and he was… Sonic! He was a hedgehog, for crying out loud! Unless…

She wasn’t always a human.

Dear lord, even the idea sounded insane. What else would she have been? A slug? A cat? But why else would they have their names on these vials? How could Dr. Robotnik had known about them beforehand when he didn’t even know their names? Was that why Robotnik had gotten all weird once she had told him her name?

But then again… why would Dr. Robotnik, of all people, have this? It made no sense. But if the label was telling the truth, then maybe whatever the contents of this vial were… perhaps it held the answers she had been looking for.

Ah~, ah~. The singing… was coming from her vial.

Well… only one way to find out if she was right.

Her fingers slowly found their way to the cork, removing it with a satisfying little pop. It didn’t smell like anything, didn’t look like it would taste like anything. It just stared at her from its home, waiting for her. Y/n’s heart pounded against her chest as she lifted the vial closer to her face. She needed answers. She needed to know.

The vial met her lips, and she drank.

♡ a.a.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sonic x reader #sonic imagines #sonic the hedgehog x reader #sonic the hedgehog imagines #sonic the hedgehog movie #sonic the hedgehog 2020 #sonic the hedgehog 2020 x reader #sonic the hedgehog movie x reader #sonic the hedgehog movie imagines #sonic the hedgehog 2020 movie imagines #flawsome bandits

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american-satanxx · 4 years

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Animal in Me//Chapter 12

Author’s note: If you want to be tagged let me know!

Tag list: @SCARECROWMAX @KINGNIAZX @LEATHERANDHEELS @IJUSTWANTTOKISS70SROGERTAYLOR @TAMRARAE

MASTERPOST

You Can't Imagine All The Things I'd Do If I'd Only Get A Night To Share With You

March 31st 1984; one month later I’m finishing up my latest article at work when Brad walks over to me, a smile on his face. He tosses me the issue of Rolling Stone with my article about Motley Crue in it. He looks so proud of me; which is nice. “You’ve grown so much since I hired you, I’m really proud. “His smile takes over his face. “Ready for you next assignment?” “Who’s the band this time?” I ask, giving him my full attention. “They can’t be as bad as the Crue, can they?” He tosses me a CD. “The band is called Hanoi Rocks. They are a band from Finland. They are trying to make it big in the United States and with your help, I’m sure it’ll happen.” “So when do I start?” “April of this year.” He informs me. “We’re shipping you off to the UK to follow them on tour. Again, it’ll be a month just like Motley Crue.” “I guess I should start beefing up on their music.” I take the CD. “First go home.” He orders me. “You’re the second to last one out every single night. You’ve got to stop working. Get your ass home, enjoy it while you can. I plan on working you a lot these next couple months. Get prepared to live out of your suitcase.” “Sounds amazing.” I laugh. “But I’ll head home. So should you, you’ve got a baby to snuggle with.” He just nods his head before leaving my desk, yelling good night when he’s back to his office. I slip the CD in my purse be logging off my computer and turning off the computer desk light off. I’m walking out the office and head straight to my car. As I need my car, I see a shadowy figure leaning up against it. I can feel my heart pounding against my chest but like a dumbass, I keep pressing on. But relief soon washes over me when I see a friendly face with over teased hair. “What are you doing here Sixx?” I ask as I get closer to the car. He just smiles before closing the space between us. His arms find themselves winding around my waist before he pulls me close to him. “Nikki, what are you doing here?” “I found you.” Is all he said before his lips find themselves crashing onto mine…

“So was that worth the wait?” I pant as Nikki rolls off of me and curls up next to me in my bed. “Oh yea,” he chuckles. “And definitely better than what I dreamt it was like.” “So you had dreams about me often?” I look over at him, smirking a bit. “Way too fucking much,” He admits, his arms circling me and drawing me closer to him. He buries his face in my blonde hair, and I can feel light kisses on my neck. “Those dreams came around a lot since you left.” “Aw, did the rockstar miss me?” I coo. In response to my taunting, Nikki bites down on my shoulder. A moan of pain and pleasure escapes my lips. “Hey, play nice.” “We’re going back on tour with Ozzy in May,” he informs me. “You should come with us. I’m sure Brad would have no problem letting you go on tour with your favorite rock stars.” I roll over so I’m looking at Nikki. I wrap my arms around his waist as a frown forms on my lips. “I would love you and I’m sure Brad would grant me a month off. But sadly I have to work. I’ll be flying over to the UK at the end of April.” “So who are the lucky guys that get to spend so much time with you?” He asks. “Hanoi Rocks.” I reply. “They’re from Finland. They’re trying to make it big here.” “Never heard of them.” Nikki shrugs. “Are they any good?” “Only one way to find out.” I get out of bed and put in their CD. I turn it up a bit before curling back in bed. Nikki’s arms find themselves around me once more as the punk sound music started playing. “Not bad.” He hums. “Not your type of music though.” “No but that’s what makes it fun.” “You better not fall for any of these guys, you hear me?” I look up at Nikki with a smirk on my lips. “And if I do?” He says nothing, just crashes his lips on mine in a searing kiss and his hands go down to my ass, squeezing as the kiss heats up even further….

#nikki sixx #nikki sixx fanfiction #nikki sixx imagine #nikki sixx fanfic #motley crue #motley crue fanfiction #motley crue fanfic #douglas booth #douglas booth fanfic #douglas booth imagine #douglas booth fanfiction #the dirt #the dirt fanfiction #the dirt fanfic #animal in me

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unpack-my-heart · 5 years

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IT Fandom Prompt Week - Day 7 - Famous / Band AU

@constantreaderfool @xandertheundead @tinyarmedtrex

Final Prompt for IT Prompt week 2019.

Read on AO3 HERE

Like many people, the first metal band that Eddie listened to was Metallica. He was 16, and had spent the day at Bev’s house, the balmy evening sun hanging heavy and bloated in the sky. They’d sat at the bottom of her garden, legs bare and grass between their toes. Bev’s old cassette tape player was balanced precariously on a rickety wooden chair, the tapes lay scattered around the grass, like plastic flowers. Eye’s half-closed, Eddie was listening to Bev tell him about the book she’d been reading, and how he should read it before they start their college degrees in the fall. Bev’s voice, pitchy and animated, fought with Morrissey’s crooning voice, and Eddie let himself swim in the noise. That was, until Bev changed the tape, and an unrelenting guitar riff came booming out of the tinny speakers. Eddie’s eyes snapped open.

“Who’s this?” Eddie asked, shifting so he was propped up against the fence.

“Huh? Oh, Metallica. They’re pretty good, right!”

“Yeah,” Eddie mused, bobbing his head slightly along with the rhythmic chugging of the guitar, “yeah they’re pretty good”

That night, Eddie had practically skipped home, fanny-pack stuffed with as many cassette tapes as Bev could wedge in there without breaking the zip. The bands are those he has never heard of before, Black Sabbath, Judas Priest, Nine Inch Nails. Bev promised that he’ll love them, and he trusted her.

A few days later, Eddie escaped the stifling confines of his mother’s house to join Bev on a trip to the local record store. Bev immediately tugged him over to the ‘rock and metal’ section, where they spent ages flicking through the tapes, Bev filling Eddie’s hands with tapes in a matter of minutes. Eddie, who had felt out of place in a dingy record store in his pressed khakis and pastel yellow polo shirt, had immediately struck up a conversation with the friendly guy behind the counter, who couldn’t have been any older than he was.

“First time?” The guy asked, picking through the tapes that Eddie had dumped on the counter, looking for the price stickers.

“Pardon?”

“First time somewhere like this? You have the first time kinda look, like you’re afraid the tapes will bite you or something”

“Oh,” Eddie replied, scuffing his feet on the floor, “Yeah, it’s my first time. Bev said she’d been in here loads and it’s cheaper than the store downtown, so…”

The guy laughed, a warm laugh that rang in the quiet store like a bell.

“Yeah, Bev’s in here a lot. Doesn’t spend much money, though !”

“Bite me, Hanlon”

“Ever the charmer, Miss Marsh,” The guy turned back to Eddie, “As rude as she is, Bev has good taste. You’re definitely in safe hands, but you can always come in here and I can help you, if you get sick of her forcing you to listen to Trent Reznor’s entire discography over and over and over again”

“I’m warning you, Michael!” Bev hollered, brandishing a vinyl record like a weapon.

– X –

Soon enough, Eddie fell into a routine. He’d wait until his mother fell into a deep, sleeping-pill induced sleep in front of her soap operas, and shut the lounge room door, painfully slowly to stop it creaking. Then, he’d charge upstairs as fast as his legs would carry him. Whilst Eddie looked everything the picture-perfect poster-boy for “good boys” everywhere, from his perfectly coiffed hair, his crisp, 100% cotton polo shirts, and even down to his sensible, chalk-white sketchers, he had a secret hiding under his bed.

Under his bed, behind the stacks of biology and chemistry textbooks and old shoes that don’t fit him anymore, lurks a small metal box, and a rusty cassette player. The metal box is home to his ever expanding collection of tapes, and he’d take great pleasure in passing his fingers over the spines of the cases, like he was choosing the biggest, most decadent chocolate in the box. His fingers almost always landed on Metallica first, his gate-way drug. He’d disrobe the tape, and place it into the cassette player, but not before he’d plugged his monstrously large headphones into the jack. Cranking up the volume, Eddie would place the cassette player next to him on the bed, and lie back, and drift.

Master of puppets I'm pulling your strings Twisting your mind and smashing your dreams Blinded by me, you can't see a thing

Eddie would spend hours listening to Rob Halford’s demonic screaming if his mother had been particularly taxing that evening, or if his day had been slow and lazy, Ozzy Osborne would sing him to sleep, regaling him with tales of faeries dancing with dwarves. Soon enough, and without any real effort, Eddie became a secret, but die-hard, metal-head.

– X –

A note hit the back of Eddie’s head in chemistry.

Anthrax are playing at oil slick in Bangor! We gotta go. B x

Eddie tries to protest, he really does. He sits under the bleachers with Bev at lunch, and tries to convince her that he’d never be allowed to go to a show in Bangor, that his mother would never let him, that he can’t lie to her, really Bev, I’ve tried, I’m a terrible liar.

She doesn’t take no for an answer, and sure enough, when the night of the show arrives, Eddie is sat in his bedroom at half past six, practically vibrating with nerves. He knew that his mother would be dead to the world in a few minutes, passed out for a whole twelve hours. Eddie thanked the God of Nyquil and prescription medicine. When the familiar rumble of his mother’s snores starts to seep through his floorboards, Eddie throws open his window, takes a deep breath, and leaps like a frog onto the branch of the big tree that stands dormant outside his window.

He runs straight to Bev’s aunts house, and they both clamber in her rickety Sedan, Bev, who had recently turned 17 and was now trusted with her Aunt’s car, at the wheel. Eddie was wearing the black straight-leg jeans he’d begged his mother to buy him, and Beverly Marsh, his lord and saviour, had lent him one of her old leather jackets and her Iron Maiden tour shirt that fit him like a glove. Together with Bev clad in enough leather to upholster a couch, they drove to Bangor.

Eddie had the best night of his life, and crawled back in through his bedroom window at four am the next morning, sweaty and disgusting, but happier than he’d been in years.

– X –

When Bev’s aunt gets a PR job at Iron Horns, the best heavy metal festival this side of the Atlantic, Eddie almost squeezes the life out of Bev when she invites him to go with them. He was eighteen, and on the precipice of adulthood. He’s staring down the crevasse of responsibility, college degrees, mortgages and student loan repayments, and the void is staring straight back at him. He toyed with the idea of telling his mother that her little Eddie-Bear spends his weekends lurking in dive bars listening to boys with longer hair than most girls scream into the microphone, and he plans on getting dirty in a field for a weekend with his best friend.

He, of course, doesn’t do this, and instead told his mother that Bill and Ben have invited him to go camping with them, and he wanted to go. Predictably, she wasn’t happy, and bleated on at him about bears and poison ivy until she was blue in the face and panting, but she couldn’t catch Eddie as he sprinted down the path, backpack bulging on his back, pop-up tent in hand.

Iron Horn’s was huge. The site was a sprawling sea of grass, tents and stages, and as they drove down the make-shift drive-way to the staff car-park, Eddie could feel himself begin to panic. His hand instinctively tried to find the inhaler he has stashed in his fanny-pack, but Bev’s hand caught his hand in hers and squeezed. They held hands until they got out of the car.

Bev’s Aunt Lucy was ‘head of logistics’ for the entire festival, something that makes Eddie gawp with awe, and because she was such an important cog in the machine of the festival, they had arrived one day before the music started. Lucy was also able to throw her weight around a bit and swing them a camping plot in the staff and VIP section of the festival, something that calmed Eddie’s nervous jitters. The staff camping had a regular block of toilets, so he wouldn’t have to venture into alien territory … the dreaded porta-loo.

The staff camping ground is made up of plots of grass for people to pitch tents, but it also had porta-cabins for the musicians. Eddie scanned the names on the doors, finding that he recognises all but one of the bands.

“Bev, who are Crimson Nightmare?” Eddie asked Bev, trying to help her pitch their tent, but mostly just getting in her way.

“Huh. I have no idea, but they’re headlining the second day so I guess they’re probably pretty good” Bev huffed, trying to bash the tent-pegs into the firm ground with the heel of her boot.

Once they (or rather, Bev) had finished pitching their tent, they both clambered inside with their bags, and proceeded to get changed out of their travelling clothes. Most of the clothes that Eddie has brought with him are Bev’s hand-me-downs, or things that she’s bought him for Christmas, or just because. Eddie changes into one of Bev’s ripped Judas Priest shirts, and a pair of her tightest black skinny jeans that just about fit him if he doesn’t breathe too deeply. Luckily, because Bev’s feet are the size of common shrews, Eddie has his own boots that he’d saved up for with money from various birthday’s. Obviously he can’t keep the boots at home because his mother would find them and burn them in a sacrifice to the God’s of easy listening music, so they live in the trunk of Bev’s Aunt’s car for him to change into when they go to shows. They’re beaten up old black Docs that he bought in a thrift shop. He swapped out the characteristic yellow laces for rainbow ones, and he let Bill draw dancing skeletons on them in white sharpie. Eddie treasured those damn boots.

Once they’re changed, Eddie and Bev head over to the VIP tent where they grab some food. The VIP tent was home to a catering service, and a small bar for the staff and the musicians to wind down in the evening. Upon walking through the entrance flap, Eddie was immediately star-struck. There are people from his favourite bands milling around, talking to each other, laughing, shouting, existing. As he looked around, Eddie realised that no-one else looked quite as starstruck as he did, which made him feel all sorts of ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it. He continued to stare at Layne Staley.

Once Eddie and Bev had finished their food, and Eddie was trying not to stare at the lead singer from Steel Martyr too much, he caught the eye of a tall guy with intense dark eyes and a wicked smile leaning nonchalantly against the bar. Eddie doesn’t recognise him, so he assumed that he must be a light tech, or an audio engineer, or maybe even a roadie. He also looks very young, perhaps no older than nineteen. This, accompanied with the fact that he’s wearing sweatpants with an old hoodie, suggested to Eddie that he couldn’t be a member of a metal band. The guy held Eddie’s gaze for a beat too long, and before he glanced back to the bartender, the stranger winked at Eddie.

Against his will, Eddie felt the all too familiar heat in his cheeks – an unfortunate indication that his face was blooming a violent scarlet red. Eddie snapped his head away, eliciting an loud bark of laughter from the stranger at the bar. Bev, who had been too busy trying to surreptitiously roll a joint under the table, looks up when she heard the laugh.

“Eddie, why is that guy over there staring at you?”

“…Wuh-What?,” Eddie stutters, fertilizing the glint in Bev’s eye, “What guy? There’s no guy”

“Uh… Yeah there is, that one” Bev snorts, and turned in her seat to point directly at the stranger, who waved at her.

“Him? What about him? I don’t even know him” Eddie mumbled, staring very intently at an interesting speck of dirt on the floor.

“Well, he’s been staring at you since we got here, he laughed at you about thirty seconds ago, and now he’s coming over here”

“WHAT!”

“Yeah, he’s totally coming over here!” Bev squealed, looking positively gleeful.

Eddie snapped his head up, and sure enough, the stranger in the sweatpants was striding over purposefully, his eyes glued on Eddie.

Eddie stared back at him, eyes owlish and ridiculous.

“I guess I’m gonna have to make the first move, then?” was the first thing the sweatpants-stranger said, as he plonked himself down in the empty seat to Eddie’s right.

“Um” was all Eddie said in response.

Bev was thirty seconds away from howling with laughter judging by the look on her face, and Eddie prayed that embarrassment was a painless way to die.

“Hi! I’m Bev, and this beetroot looking thing here is Eddie”

“Nice to meetcha, Red. The name’s Richie. D’ya have a voice, short-stack?”

“I do as it happens” Eddie replied, snottily.

“Oof. I like ‘em spicy. Come here often?”

“Do you speak only in pick-up lines or are you capable of stringing a coherent sentence together?”

“Get yer coat love, you’ve pulled”

Eddie rolled his eyes, and angled his body away from Richie’s.

He knew what this game was, and he intended to play to win.

“Hey now, I’m just playing with you” Richie cooed, taking Eddie’s bait, “In all seriousness, whatcha doing here? You performing this weekend?”

“Naw, my Aunt is the head of logistics for the fest so we came along for the ride. Couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see Tool for the fifth time!” Bev responded, speaking for Eddie, who raised his eyebrows at her gratefully.

“Ah, of course. Gotta admit, I’m pretty heartbroken I’m not gonna get to see little Eddie Spaghetti losing his shit on that big stage, though. I bet that’s a real pretty sight”

“And what are you doing here, then? Light tech, or something?” Eddie interjected, a feeble attempt to steer the conversation away from himself.

“Something like that. A bitta’ this, a bitta’ that. Jack of all trades, me”

Eddie wasn’t entirely satisfied with that answer, but he didn’t push it any further.

“Can I get you both a drink?” Richie asked, drawing Eddie out of his introspection.

“Are you over twenty-one?” Eddie affirmed, sceptical.

“Nah, but I’ve known Jonsey for a few years now. He’s not worried about silly little things like legal drinking ages”

“Uh ..,” Eddie looked at Bev for confirmation, and much to his chagrin Bev gave him the most ridiculous, and most unsubtle thumbs up ever.

“Okay, sure,” Eddie relents, “just get me whatever you’re having”

“Are you sure you can handle that?” Richard said with a wink. Eddie stared at the floor again, eyes wandering over Richie’s boots. The laces were not proper laces at all, and were instead blue string, frayed and threadbare.

“I’ll have a jack and coke, if you’d be so kind. Lotta Jack, not so much coke” Bev asks, smiling up at Richie.

“That’s a lot of booze for a young lady like yourself” Richie drawled in something Eddie supposed was supposed to be a southern accent.

“Bite me”

“If you’re sure”

Eddie sort of expected Bev to tell Richie to fuck off, but she doesn’t. She did something much more surprising.

“Hey Eddie, why don’t you go and help Richie carry the drinks? I’m just gonna –“ she gestures to the opening of the tent and waggles the spliff between her fingers.

“Aw, man. I’m hitting on the wrong person here. Any chance of a do-over, Red?”

“Not a fuckin’ chance, Trashmouth. I’ll be back in a few, Eddie, go help with the drinks!” Bev says again, a little bit more insistent this time.

“What a marvellous idea! Come on, Spaghetti” Richie announced, sending a look towards Bev that Eddie didn’t understand.

Eddie stood up, wordless, and followed Richie towards the bar, but not before sending a silent “what the fuck?!” Bev’s way. She just smiled at him, stuck her thumbs up, and disappeared out of the tent.

Eddie waited at the bar with Richie, who was drumming out the beat of a song that Eddie doesn’t recognise on the polished wood.

“Bev has a girlfriend, you know,” Eddie blurted out before he could stop himself, “just so you, y’know … know”

“Does she? That’s nice. Now, do you have a boytoy, Mr Eds?”

“but … aren’t you trying to hit on her?”

“Uh, I’m definitely trying to hit on someone, but it ain’t Red”

“Then … who …”

Richie looked at Eddie square in the face with epitome of are you shitting me written across his face.

“…oh”

“Yeah, Oh” Richie mocked, laughing. Eddie couldn’t help but notice that his eyes were glittering despite the low light of the tent.

Unsure of what to say, Eddie remained silent for a few beats too long, but he was saved when the bartender came over to take their order. Richie orders Bev’s drink, before also ordering two pints of hard cider, one of which he passes to Eddie.

“So, to return to our previous conversation, is there a Mrs Eddie Spaghetti waiting for you at home?”

“Okay, you gotta stop with all this spaghetti stuff. It’s just Eddie”

“Sure. Is there a Mrs Just-Eddie waiting for you at home?”

“Wait – hang on. How did you even know I like men?”

“Lucky guess” Richie boasted, waggling his eyebrows.

Eddie stared at him until Richie burst out laughing.

“No, Seriously! It was a lucky guess. I was fully prepared for you to tell me that Red was your girl and that I’d have to slink off with my tail in between my legs”

“Bev will find that hilarious when I tell her that”

“C’mon, S’getti you’re killing me,” Richie groaned, “should I persist in my pathetic attempts to woo you or am I wasting my time?”

Eddie pretended to think, and rubbed his chin with the hand that wasn’t holding his cider.

“I’m not sure I wanna tell you, yet. I’m quite enjoying watching you squirm”

“You sadist” Richie shot back immediately.

Eddie stood up on his tiptoes and whispered, “you don’t know the half of it” directly into the shell of Richie’s ear, before he swiftly turned on his heel and slinked back to the table.

“I’m taking that as a ‘Yes, Richie, please continue trying to get into my pants!’” Richie yelled after him.

Eddie threw his head back, and laughed.

– X –

When they got back to their tent that evening after staggering back across the field, Bev and Eddie collapsed onto the same tiny air mattress and curled around each other like inebriated kittens.

“Sooooo?” Bev drawled, as she tried to pull her boots off without unlacing them first.

“Whazzit? What?”

“Richie? D’ya like him? Because I’m pretty sure he’s gone all kissy-kissy-mushy-mushy over a certain little spaghetttiiiiii”

“oh m’god, shut’p,” Eddie slurred, and he tried to hit Bev on the arm but missed by a good six inches, “he’s just … uh … flirtatious”

“Naw, Eddie, he’s desperate to, y’know, get in there!” Bev laughed hysterically, as she pointed at Eddie’s crotch.

Eddie rolled his eyes, at least he thought he did, he’s definitely too drunk to tell.

“C’mere, tiny, I wanna spooooon” Bev moaned, grabbing Eddie.

They both fell asleep almost instantly after that, Bev’s arm wrapped snugly around Eddie’s waist.

– X –

The next morning Eddie woke up with a mouth that tasted like he’d gargled with white spirit, and, surprisingly, no headache and a stomach that only felt a tiny bit like a whirlpool.

Bev, on the other hand, wailed like a banshee when Eddie shifted on the air mattress to open the tent flap, letting a stream of cool air into the tent.

“Edward, I will cut off you bollocks if you let any more light in”

Eddie slipped out of the tent, leaving Bev to her hangover. The sun was already high in the sky, and Eddie guessed it couldn’t have been earlier than eleven or midday. His mother would definitely never have let him sleep in this late. The music started today, the first band taking to the main stage at 3pm. There seemed to be more people than Eddie had ever seen in his life charging around the staff camping grounds, carrying various bits of rigging, instruments and electrical equipment. Eddie sat on the grass outside his tent, trying to psyche himself up enough to make the long, arduous 500 metre walk to the bathrooms to brush his teeth, when a large hand clamped on his shoulder. Eddie barely managed to suppress his scream.

“Howdy, neighbour!”

“Oh my God, it’s you”

“That isn’t a very nice way to greet your beloved now is it, Eddie?”

“I thought I’d dreamt you up in an alcohol-induced fever dream” Eddie deadpanned as Richie all but threw himself down on the grass next to him.

“Naw,” was all Richie said, closing his eyes against the light of the sun. Eddie swore he could see the freckles scattered across the bridge of Richie’s nose multiply in front of his eyes.

They sat without talking for a while, listening to the hustle and bustle of the campsite. Richie looked exhausted, and Eddie wanted to let Richie rest his head in his lap while he stroked Richie’s wild hair until he was snoring.

“So … plan on seeing any good bands today?” Eddie asked awkwardly, consciously aware of the fact that the Dutch courage previously coursing through his veins had evaporated overnight.

“I dunno, yet. Who are you going to see?”

“Bev wants to see Def Leppard, who I’m not majorly fussed about, but I have to go see ‘em if she’ll even think about coming with me to see Kiss”

“Where is Red this morning, anyway? Is that … is that tent of yours empty?”

“She’s still asleep”

“Cockblock” Richie cursed under his breath, just loud enough for Eddie to hear it.

“You’re very presumptuous, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Believe it or not, I don’t make a habit of this” Richie replied, with a serious edge to his voice.

Eddie blinked.

“Make a habit of what?” Eddie asked, dumbly.

“This,” Richie gestured to Eddie and then back to himself and repeated the action, “I’m not … I don’t do this stuff”

“Richie, I’m confused”

“Never mind, sugar. I’ll explain it to you when you’re older”

Before Eddie could protest that he wanted Richie to explain his cryptic message now and not later, a rather dishevelled and grumpy looking Bev poked her head out of the tent.

“Okay. One, Eddie, I love you but you are so dense that light bends around you. Two, can you guys go flirt somewhere else please, it’s making my stomach churn”

“Top o’the mornin’ to ya, lassie!” Richie bellowed in an awful Irish accent, shuffling closer to Eddie to allow Bev more space to clamber out of the tent.

Bev collapsed on the grass next to them, rubbing her head.

“Do you have any painkillers in that magic fanny-pack of yours?” She asked Eddie, a pitiful twang to her voice.

Eddie nodded, and climbed back into the tent to search for the fanny-pack. When he’d grabbed it and climbed back out of the tent, Bev and Richie were sitting close, heads together, whispering frantically about something that Eddie couldn’t hear. Bev’s face was stern, like she was scolding a small child who had broken her favourite mug, and Richie’s eyebrows looked very insistent, but also vaguely scared. They sprang apart when Eddie climbed back out of the tent, painkillers in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He passed both items to Bev, who hoovered up two painkillers quicker than Eddie could blink.

“I gotta skedaddle now, my love. Promise you’ll stay faithful as you wait for me,” Richie announced as he stood up, and brushed stray blades of grass off his jeans.

“I won’t make a promise I can’t keep, Rich,” Eddie tried to joke, but it fell flat as Richie’s smile, only for the briefest of seconds, was replaced by a mask of hurt.

“I guess I’ll see you around then,” and with that, Richie sauntered off, hands shoved deep in his pockets, head hanging uncharacteristically low.

“Eddie, what I need you to do right now, is go after him and apologise for being a dick”

“What did I do?!”

“You know exactly what you did”

Eddie did know.

The truth was, Eddie was harbouring a crush on Richie that was growing exponentially. He’d spotted him immediately as they’d walked into the VIP tent the day before. His heart had thumped wildly the entire time they sat close together, drinking cider and laughing, and he’d almost vomited every time Richie’s arm brushed his. Eddie had it bad. He knew this. But, try as he might, something kept him from entirely letting go. Something about the fact they’d met at a festival, miles and miles away from Eddie’s home town, and they’d probably never see each other again. He’d never experimented with casual sex, a nice fuck and a see you never! arrangement. He’d never given it much thought. Maybe he should.

Without another word, Eddie sprung up and chased after Richie, who was now rounding the corner by the toilet block.

“Rich!” Eddie called out, panting.

Richie turned around, and beamed at Eddie.

Eddie felt lighter.

“I’m sorry I’m a dick”

“You’re not a dick”

“I am, and I’m sorry. Do you … I dunno, do you wanna come see Def Leppard with us later, maybe? I mean – you don’t have to, I just meant if you have nothing better to –”

“I’d love to”

– X –

“POUR SOME SUGAR ON ME!” Eddie screamed along with Joe Elliott, thousands of other people, and Richie.

Bev had disappeared a few songs ago, pushing her way to the front barrier, but Eddie had hung back. He was stood directly in front of Richie, who had been whispering (or, more accurately, shouting) into his ear occasionally, and even in one delicious, ridiculous moment, picked Eddie up and stuck him on his shoulders. That didn’t last long because Eddie was terrified he’d fall off, but having his thighs wrapped around Richie’s neck was exhilarating for the four minutes it lasted.

“Eds, this might be the best day of my life,” Richie shouted, hot, moist breath tickling Eddie’s ear.

“I think me too!” Eddie shouted back, and the Richie did something that made Eddie’s brain shortcircuit.

Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist, crossing them over his stomach, and placed a large, wet-sounding kiss on the top of Eddie’s head.

Eddie didn’t dare blink, breathe, move or think.

“Thank you for inviting me” Richie whispered, and it was a real whisper this time, spoken directly into Eddie’s heart.

“it’s uh – no problem”

The band ripped into a cover of The Who’s ‘My Generation’, and much to Eddie’s annoyance, Richie released Eddie from his cobra-hold and tugged him forward, forward, forward until they ran into Bev at the barrier. Bev’s long orange hair was piled on top of her head, her face was sweaty and pink, and she looked absolutely radiant.

“This is our fucking song now!” Richie bellowed, hoisting Bev up on his shoulders like he had done to Eddie a few songs earlier.

Eddie grabbed Bev’s ankle and squeezed it. She smiled down at him, all teeth and tongue and happy, happy, happy.

– X –

The sun had fully set behind the massive stage, and Def Leppard had just finished their encore. The mass of people that had been surrounding Eddie, a coagulated mass of shadows and sharp elbows, parted like red sea as people slowly started to trickle out of the main arena and back towards the campsites. As they walked, shoulders bumping together occasionally, Eddie noticed several people staring at Richie, or pointing at him and whispering. Eddie glanced up at Richie to see if he’d noticed, only to find Richie looking down at him with soft eyes and a small, but genuine, smile.

“You okay, Eds?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fucking great, Rich. I wasn’t expecting to enjoy it as much as I did”

“Ah, that’s because I was there, obviously” Richie boasted.

Eddie could tell that he was joking, that he was just playing the game they’d been playing for the past twenty-four hours, but that didn’t stop Eddie from saying “yeah, it probably was”, as honest as the day is long.

Eddie’s honesty seemed to hit Richie in the stomach like a sucker punch, because he made this weird spluttering noise.

“Fucking hell, Sugar, you can’t just say stuff like that”

“Why?”

“Because – Never mind, I’m gonna walk you back to your tent, c’mon”

Eddie stopped walking, and tugged on Richie’s arm to get him to stop too. Richie swung around so he was facing Eddie, boot toe to boot toe.

“Richie, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t think I can do this anymore, Eddie”

“Do what?”

“I can’t just keep this up. I can’t keep fucking – fucking dancing with you, laughing with you, letting you smile at me like that, and then when you cuddled with me during the show I was like, ‘oh my God, this is it, he does feel the same’ but then … then you go all cold on me or you glare at me or …” Richie trailed off, his eyes flickered between Eddie’s eyes and mouth.

“Richie, I – ”

“Please don’t, please don’t pity me or say you’re sorry, or anything like that. God, I’ll drop down dead if you say you’re sorry, Eds. It isn’t your fault, it’s mine. I wasn’t joking about walking you back, though, c’mon, Bev will kill me if we’re back much later than – ”

Richie stopped talking because Eddie had kissed him.

Eddie curled his hand around Richie’s neck and dragged his face down, before he smashed his lips to Richie’s in a kiss that started off almost violent in its awkwardness but soon became soft and hesitant. Richie didn’t move at first, and Eddie almost pulled away, ready to sprint off to the campsite fuelled on nothing but mortal embarrassment, but just as Eddie had pulled his lips a millimetre away from Richie’s, Richie opened his mouth slightly, just barely, and kissed Eddie back.

They kissed, Richie’s hands cradling Eddie’s face, until someone came careening into Eddie’s back, sending him flying forwards into Richie’s chest, arms flailing wildly.

“Sorry, mate!”

“No problem, bro” Richie responded, voice low and gruff, and from his position squished up against Richie’s chest, Eddie laughed, poking at the soft flesh of Richie’s tummy with his index finger.

“Bro?” Eddie mocked.

“What?”

“You’re ridiculous”

“And yet, you kissed me”

“I did”

“So that makes you ridiculous as well”

“It does”

“Wanna do it again?”

“Yes”

This time, Richie kissed Eddie.

– X –

By the time they’d gotten back to the tent, Eddie wasn’t done with Richie. Not even close. They’d stopped a few times on the way back, mostly Richie cutting Eddie off with his tongue, or one time that Eddie got so frustrated with Richie doing that he shoved him up against a tree and kissed him until Richie couldn’t breathe. It still wasn’t enough. However, Eddie didn’t know how to ask for more, how to ask Richie to climb into his tent with him.

Bev wasn’t in the tent when Eddie poked his head in, but there was a note lying on the air mattress.

With my mom tonight, wanted to give you some space WINK WINK

Love you be safe I’ll kick his ass if he hurts you

Don’t show his this note

Or you can if you want

Richard I’ll kill you if you hurt him okay

Love you love you love you

Eddie loved Beverly so much he could scream.

“Uh… are you tired yet?” Eddie asked, trying to remain inconspicuous, but subtlety was never his strong point.

“Nope” Richie responded, popping the ‘P’.

“Do you wanna, come in? I can’t offer you coffee because … well, I don’t have any way of making any but I can offer you … lukewarm water?”

“Eds?”

“Yeah?”

“Cut the shit”

Richie all but threw himself through the entrance of the tent, pouncing on Eddie with a loud ‘oof’. They both sprawled backwards, and Richie hovered over Eddie, his eyes dark.

“Are you sure?”

“More sure than I’ve been of anything for a very long time”

“Do you have … the necessarily equipment?”

“Are you talking about whether or not I have a dick? Because …” Eddie gestured to his crotch where, yes, it was very obvious that he was packing heat, thank you very much.

“No, you goof, I meant lube and stuff”

“Oh… yeah I do, hang on”

“You’re very … prepared”

“Jealous?”

“I would be if it wasn’t me in this tent with you right now”

“Well it is, so shut up and kiss me��

– X –

The next morning, Eddie had woken up with a crick in his neck. Richie had gone. What lay on the pillow where Richie’s head should have been, was Bev’s note. Or, rather, another note, scrawled on the back of Bev’s note.

Please get as close to the barrier as possible during Crimson Nightmare’s set

Please please please please

You fuckin’ rocked my world last night Eds

R x

– X –

Eddie looked behind him at the pulsing mass of people, blurring into one lacquered mass in the darkness of the night, random faces illuminated by the spotlights. Raucous chants surrounded him, a war cry, “CRIMSON NIGHTMARE! CRIMSON NIGHTMARE! CRIMSON NIGHTMARE!”. It was cultish, and Eddie could feel himself becoming indoctrinated.

Without warning, the huge fluttering black cloth that had been obscuring the stage was sucked through a gap in the ceiling, and revealed the stage. The entire set was decked out to look like an industrial hellscape, all juddering fans, sharp looking pieces of metal jutting every which way and large metal platforms. Several huge industrial fans were stood in the centre of the stage, acting as a podium for an obscenely large drumkit. Eddie hardly noticed the stage, though, as he was preoccupied with looking at the elaborate venetian masks the band were wearing. They obscured almost their entire faces, and looked like they were made of a buttery-soft leather with horns curling skywards. The bassist was stood on a large piece of scaffolding stage right, and the lead guitarist was standing on the floor surrounded by shards of metal poking out of the floor stage left. The screams and hollers of the crowd grew deafening, and the guitarist ripped straight into a blistering riff that sounded like it’d been spat from the mouth of the devil himself. A scream tore its way out of Eddie’s body, and he began jumping up and down with the crowd, coagulating until he had become One with the throbbing mass of people.

Like Richie’s note had said, Eddie was right at the barrier. His ribs were being crushed against the hard metal every time he leapt up and down, but he hardly noticed it once the vocalist walked out onto stage. The vocalist walked with a swagger that punched Eddie straight in the gut, and before they had even managed to spit out a single syllable, Eddie almost collapsed on the floor. He was held up by Bev, who shot him a questioning look. Eddie didn’t dare speak, move, breath, blink.

“Aw man, look at you see of sexy bitches come all this way to see little old me?” the vocalist brayed, stamping his feet in time with the rhythmic booming of the bass drum.

The crowd roared back in response. Eddie couldn’t breathe.

The vocalist was wearing the same mask as the rest of his bandmates, but that didn’t matter.

“All this noise for me? Too fuckin’ bad I’m gonna make your ears fucking bleeeeeed. This one’s called ‘You’ll Float Too’ and you’re gonna fucking love it” Richie yelled, before screaming like a banshee and launching into the first song.

It was Richie.

It was Richie’s voice.

It was Richie’s voice, Richie’s raspy growl, Richie’s beaten up old boots.

The frontman of the last headliner of Iron Horns was the guy that Eddie had ridden on his shitty little air mattress in his shitty little tent the night before.

Eddie tapped Bev on the shoulder, and soon the taps became almighty whacks when she wouldn’t turn around, but when she did, Eddie knew that she knew.

“IS THAT?!”

“IT IS!”

“FUCKING HELL”

“I KNOW”

Richie paraded up and down the stage, the big black coat he was wearing flapping in the breeze of the industrial fans. Eddie was mesmerised by the way Richie made screaming into the microphone with such tenacity look easy, and the way that Richie leapt around the stage effortlessly. The crowd were screaming, and a pit opened up directly behind Eddie, who clung to the barrier, knuckles bright white, to avoid getting sucked into its depths. Bev, as she always did, disappeared into the centre of the hurricane, and was spat out again several minutes later, eyes gleaming, hair tousled.

– X –

Half way through their last song, Richie locked eyes with Eddie.

Eddie hadn’t been sure that Richie had seen him there, a fleck of sand on the beach, faceless amongst the crowd. But, half way through ‘No Dread, No Desire’, Richie’s eyes locked with his. Of course, Eddie initially thought that Richie could have just so happened to have been staring in his general direction, but when Richie practically ran to the spot directly in front of where Eddie was standing, all doubts dissolved. Richie dropped to his knees and belted the rest of the song directly at Eddie, who needed Bev to hold him up once more.

– X –

Even after Richie had sung the last note of the encore, and bid the crowd farewell, Eddie couldn’t move. He was glued to the spot, practically growing roots. Bev stood next to him, saying nothing, just breathing, loud and heavy breaths curling into the black sky like smoke.

“So”

“Richie’s in a band”

“Richie’s in … a fucking good band”

“You slept with him”

“I did”

“You slept with a guy in a band”

“I did”

“Are you a groupie now?”

“Fuck off”

A figure appeared on stage, and shuffled towards them. A figure wearing sweatpants and boots with laces that weren’t real laces, but were instead blue, frayed string.

The figure crouched in front of them.

“Did you like the set?”

“You’re fucking famous” Eddie blurted out, tongue thick and fat in his mouth.

“M’not, not really. The vocalist of Crimson Nightmare is kinda famous, but he’s … he’s not really me. M’just Richie”

“But … Aren’t you the vocalist?”

“Well, yes, I mean technically, but I wear that mask n’ all so… It’s also sort of, not me?”

“Richie I have no idea what to say, I’m like … I’m fucking shaking”

“Good shaking? Bad shaking? Did you hate it? That growl in the third song came out so fucking janky, and I know that I sounded kinda flat in a few of the songs but –“

“You were … spectacular” Eddie breathed, and stared up at Richie with wide, earnest eyes.

“Aw, shit. You’re gonna make me blush, Eddie Spaghetti”

Richie hopped down off the stage, crowding into Eddie’s space. They were separated by a thin metal fence. It was too much distance.

“Beverly, if you don’t want to watch me shove my tongue down Eddie’s throat, I suggest that you avert your eyes, otherwise, enjoy the fuckin’ show”

Bev’s indignant squawk was drowned out by the all-consuming taste on Eddie’s tongue.

– X –

From: Sugar Daddy:

[youtube link]

From: Sugar Daddy:

Last night in Denver. I think you’ll like it <3

Eddie opened the link. It was a video of Crimson Nightmare headlining a spot at Denver arena. The camera was shaky, and the audio screechy, but it was clear enough so Eddie could hear everything Richie was saying.

“Alright, alright, now, I know this is gonna come as a fuckin’ surprise to some of you, or maybe it won’t, but I dedicate this next song to the boy who inspired it. Eddie Spaghetti, this one’s for you, my love, my one, my only”

Screeching guitar and guttural screams filtered out of the shitty speakers of Eddie’s phone. Eddie lay back on his bed, closed his eyes, and drifted.

To: Sugar Daddy:

I love you

#reddie #itpromptweek #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #heavy metal festival AU #Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak

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queen-of-deans-booty · 5 years

Text

Sex and Violence- Part 1

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,055

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

Darkness. Black everywhere you look. Wherever you are, you know you aren’t safe. Sam and Dean come to mind, but they are nowhere to be found.

“Sam! Dean!” you yelled, hoping to attract someone’s attention.

“Don’t bother. They aren’t here,” she said, making you roll your eyes in annoyance.

“Leave me alone!” you yelled, turning around to face Amara who just smiled at you. “I don’t want you here!”

“But, I’m already here.”

“No, no you’re not. Whatever you think you know about me, drop it. I will not let you use me. Just stay out of my head!”

“It’s the only way we can talk. The only way I know you’re safe.”

“Safe from what? Everyone is telling me to stay away from you!”

“Yes, my nephews and nieces do make it clear how much trouble I am. I can assure you, I’m not the bad guy here. Our bond is stronger than any force you know. I can protect you from where I am.”

“And where is that?” you asked as you threw your hands up in frustration.

“Somewhere far away. But even then, I can make sure you will live a long life, ready for me when I get out. The ties you have to me are thick, nothing can penetrate those walls. No magic in the world will ever be strong enough to take you down. No magic or force in the world will ever be able to break my wall of protection.

“Don’t you understand what is happening here? I am getting you prepared because a lot of fights are coming your way. You’re going to need me when the time comes. I am going to need you. Together, we can do anything. I need you ready for that.”

“Get out of my head!” you yelled, making her disappear.

Gasping awake, you heard the sound of a car honking in the distance. Due to your disturbance, Dean was also woken up who you had been sleeping under you. Looking around, you saw Sam’s bed already made but found him in the bathroom with the door half-open. He was talking on the phone in hushed whispers making you wonder who was on the other line.

Opening your mouth to speak, Dean placed his hand over it to silence you so he could hear what his brother was saying. It was no secret that Sam had been keeping things from you and his brother, and this might be able to tell you exactly what.

“Yeah, that's what I'm telling you. No storms, no bad crops, nothing… Yeah, okay. We'll keep looking. You keep looking too, OK?... Alright. Talk soon,” he said as he hung up. Dean quickly closed his eyes, pretending to never have woken up, and you do the same. If Sam was keeping something from you, then it must have been bad so you needed to figure it out before something bad happens.

Sam looked at you and his brother before exiting the bathroom, going over to your bed before sitting on his. He stared at you two before lightly slapping your leg before moving onto Dean’s.

“Hey. Up and at 'em,” he chuckled. Opening your eyes, you looked at Dean that held the same emotions as yours. As to not disturb the peace, you looked over at the clock before sitting up.

“You're up early. What are you doing?” Dean asked.

“Nothing. I was in the can.”

“Yeah?” you wondered in a slightly accusatory tone.

“Yeah. You want me to draw you a picture?”

“Nah, we’ll pass.”

“Found a job. Bedford, Iowa. Guy beat his wife's brains out with a meat tenderizer, and get this, third local inside two months to gank his wife. No priors on any of 'em, all happily married.”

“Sounds like Ozzie and Harriet,” Dean joked.

“More like The Shining,” Sam smirked.

“Alright, well I guess we'd better have a look,” you said before getting out of bed.

“Really? No pants?” Sam asked once he saw Dean’s shirt and cheeky panties that barely covered your ass.

“Like you’ve never seen this before,” you said as you snatched your clothes from on top of your duffel bag. Dean smirked as he checked you out, but his brother had a completely different look on his face. The only thing Sam hasn’t seen of you was your vagina, and he’s only seen your breasts because your towel slipped while he was in the room. Living with them 24/7, something was bound to slip up.

“Why does the PD keep sending you guys? I already said I don't want a lawyer,” Adam Benson, the guy who beat his wife, said with a scoff. Dressed like a lawyer, you decided to handle this one alone since it might be weird if three of them were to talk to this man. “I'm pleading guilty.”

“Alright, look, you don't want us to represent you, that's fine. In fact, it's probably not a bad idea, between you and me. I just want to understand what happened, that's all. Please, Mr. Benson.”

“What happened was, I killed my wife. You wanna know why? Because she made plans without asking me.”

“Now when it happened, how did you feel? Disoriented, out of control? Like something possessed you to do it?”

“I knew exactly what I was doing. I was crystal clear.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

“I don't know. I loved her. We were happy,” he sighed. Nodding, you took out some papers that might get him to talk more. Placing the credit card statement you got illegally, you showed him the $9,000 dollar charge he had.

“Nine G's. That's a hefty bill.”

“Where did you get that?”

“Doesn't matter, I have it. See, certain charges, ones you don't want the missus to know... they show up under shady names like 'M & C Entertainment'.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” he still denied everything.

“No? Sounds to me like you were having some problems with your wife making plans without you because you were doing the same to her. You know, I’ve learned something in this line of work. When someone accuses you of something, they’re the ones usually doing what was accused. If you thought your wife was cheating, then that means you were doing the cheating. Get my drift?”

“Her name was Jasmine,” Adam said after a pause and a sigh. “I didn't mean for it to happen, I don't like to go to strip bars. My buddy was having a bachelor party, and there she was. She came right up to me. And, I don’t know, she was just... perfect. Everything that I wanted.”

“Well, you pay enough and anybody will be anything.”

“It wasn't about the money. It wasn't even about sex. It was... I don't know what it was. It's hard to explain.”

“And your wife found out?” you asked.

“No, she never had a clue.”

“Then why'd you kill her? Seems to me like you had a perfect life.”

“For Jasmine. She said we would be together forever. If... if only Vicki was...” he sighed, not able to finish the sentence. “Afterwards, me and Jasmine were supposed to meet and she never showed. I don't know where she lives, I don't know her last name, I don't even know her real first name! I'm an idiot.”

“And you didn't think to tell this to the cops?”

“What for? The stripper didn't do it, I did it. I know what I deserve. The judge doesn't give me the death sentence, I'll just do it myself.”

“Thanks for your time. My advice, if you can’t stay faithful, at least have the balls to leave,” you said before standing up. Adam just sighed as you walked out of the room before joining the brothers at the car.

“What did you find?” Dean asked once you were inside.

“Not any kind of possession, if that’s what you were thinking. He knew exactly what he was doing. He had an affair with some stripper named Jasmine who told him if they want to be together, he had to kill his wife and he did. When it came time to show up, she never did, and he turned himself in.”

“Brutal,” Sam sighed.

“Yeah, what did you two find out?”

“Dr. Cara Roberts is the one who did the autopsies on the wives. I say we go check her out.”

“Great,” you sighed, rubbing your hand over your face.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked as he started the car before pulling away from the parking lot.

“Just been having some not-so-good dreams lately,” you thought about Amara, but refused to tell the brothers about it.

“They’re just bad dreams, right?”

“Yeah, right,” you repeated that to yourself in your head a million times, trying to convince yourself that it was true.

Arriving at the hospital, you dropped Sam off to find out what Dr. Roberts knows before you two looked into the deaths of the other two wives, well their husbands. What you found out was what you expected, all of them found some way to get money to spend on the same strip club that Adam went to for reasons you still didn’t know.

After getting that information, you went back to the hospital to see what Sam found out. Before you could enter Cara’s office, Dean stopped you with a hand on your shoulders.

“What is it?”

“Are you sure they’re just nightmares?” he asked in a low voice. “That look on your face suggests it’s been going on for a while.”

“Dean, I promise you that they are. I guess with everything going on, I’m stressed which doesn’t come out in the form of rainbows and unicorns. I’m fine, honest,” you said before kissing his cheek. He had no choice but to believe you and hope that you were telling the truth.

Opening the door, you walked in what seemed to be an intense moment. The look on Sam’s face suggested that something other than the case was going on.

“What'd we miss?” Dean asked as you two stepped inside.

“Ahh, these are my partners, Agent Murdoch and Barnes.”

“Please, ‘Agent’ sounds so formal. You can call me Dean.”

“And I Y/N,” you said as she shook the hands of you and Dean.

“I'm Doctor Roberts,” she said before turning to Sam quickly. Raising your eyebrows, you thought someone had a crush on a certain brother. “So, um, can I help you with anything else?”

“Uhh, sure, just one more thing. This chemical Oxytocin, what would cause those high levels that you found?”

“Nothing that I've ever seen.”

“Okay, that’s it. Thanks, Doc,” Sam said with a smile. She returned it as you stood up, a smile on your face for them having chemistry. As you walked out the door, Sam stopped before addressing the doctor again. “By the way... try a greasy breakfast. The best thing for a hangover.”

“Watch it, buddy, I'm the only M.D. here,” she giggled. Sam nodded before leaving with you and Dean back to the car.

“What did you two find out?” Sam asked when you three were at a safe distance.

“Both men confessed to their crimes. Said the same exact thing as Adam did,” you explained.

“One emptied his IRA, the other, his kids' college fund, all on the same day,” Dean said as you exited the building.

“Live nude girls?”

“Yeah, at a club called 'The Honey Wagon'.”

“However, Jasmine wasn’t there all three times. Each time it was a different girl,” you sighed.

“So, what? These girls all connected somehow?”

“Well, they all described their stripper in the same way, the exact same way. Perfect, and everything that they wanted.”

“Yeah, at least until dream Barbie convinced them to murder their wives. You know, it's almost like they were under some kinda love spell.”

“Sure seems that way,” you agreed.

“Which caused them to become totally psychotic.”

“Absolutely,” Dean nodded with a smile.

“You seem pretty cheery.”

“Strippers, Sammy. Strippers. We're on an actual case involving strippers. Finally,” Dean laughed.

“What if I was a stripper?” you asked as you approached the car.

“Hot, but I don’t think that being a stripper suits you as much as hunting does,” Dean spoke the truth as you three got in.

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#supernatural fic #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fiction #dean x reader #dean fic #dean fanfiction #series rewrite #season 4 episode 14 #s4e14 #spn #supernatural

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shipmistress9 · 5 years

Text

FTLOAP - 40.5: Interlude 5: The Ride

Fandom: HTTYD

Theme: Hiccstrid - Medieval-style AU - Romance - Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Reduced to little more than a stable boy, Hiccup, despite his noble birth, has few prospects for more in life. But when he meets a girl who came to look at the horses, being a stable boy might not be enough anymore. Together, they have tough choices to make and great risks to navigate if they want to survive and be together.

Rating: Explicit

FF-net - AO3 -

Discord-server for discussions and questions

Part 1: Prologue; Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11;

Part 2: Chapter 12; Chapter 13; Chapter 14; Interlude 1; Chapter 15; Chapter 16; Chapter 17; Chapter 18; Chapter 19; Chapter 20; Chapter 21; Chapter 22; Chapter 23; Chapter 24; Chapter 25; Chapter 26; Interlude 2; Chapter 27: Chapter 28 ; Chapter 29 ; Chapter 30; Chapter 31; Chapter 32; Interlude 3; Bonus 1; Chapter 33

Part 3: Chapter 34; Chapter 35; Chapter 36; Interlude 4; Chapter 37; Chapter 38; Chapter 39; Chapter 40

Alpha/Co-author: @athingofvikings

. – * – _ . o O o . _ – * – .

AN: Ah, yes, this is why I don't like posting too long chapters... Judging by the reactions, the points that were important to me seemed to have drowned in everything else. Ah, well... Splitting the previous chapter and drawing it out longer wouldn't have been a good choice either, so I'll have to live with this now.

This week, the summer holidays started here. That means that I will have even less time to write, but I'll try to stick to the schedule nonetheless. I can't make any promises though, especially with me and my family going on vacation in the week before the next planned update. All I can promise is that I will try.

But! Chapter 41 is one of the most important chapters of this entire story to me and I want to get it right! Meaning, I won't update in two weeks if it's not in a state I'm satisfied with. Sorry.

. o O o .

With a tired sigh, King Osmond of House Hofferson, ruler of the United Kingdom of Volantis, took a moment to rest his head in his hands. Sometimes he wondered just how much time exactly he spent in this room, sitting at his desk and brooding over reports, lists, and requests. But then, did it matter? Someone had to do this and as King it was his duty to make decisions. And if he made the wrong decision, or even let anyone else make these decisions, thousands could and would suffer. No, it was his responsibility to make sure the right decisions were made – or at the very least the ones that offered the minimum amount of harm…

However, it looked as if his recent decisions were paying off positively. Going through the reports of the last two weeks helped bring a grim smile of satisfaction to his face. He still wasn’t happy with the solution he and his friends had settled upon some months ago, but he couldn’t deny that it was working. Before they’d begun these festivities, he’d compiled a single list of the men they knew were in the conspiracy, and another list of those they reasonably suspected of being in it by association and personal reputations. Those two lists had composed the core of the guest list. And now he was crossing off names from both. Nearly two dozen dead so far, and nearly all of them were on one of the two lists. From what it looked like, the greedy agitators were even murdering each other for their chance at the prize, presumably getting rid of their most dangerous competitors first, and making the upcoming work of the King’s Guard that much easier. Indeed, aside from the incident with the boar, where his huntsman had deliberately set a group of the known traitors after a boar – when they had only been prepared for hunting deer – every other death had come from their fellow men.

The next report listed the injured and the maimed. Here, the divide between the innocent and the guilty wasn’t quite as favourable, but he knew the patients would get the best possible care, which was all he could do for them. Injuries were a common risk, after all.

Yes, as much as he detested having to use this approach to get rid of the traitors, he had to admit that it was working out splendidly. The highest priority target, Duke Thuggory, might still be alive – and had, annoyingly, been the one to finish off the boar – but there was plenty of time to remedy that fact.

He put the list aside, took a sip of his wine, and reached for the next report. It was the account of the guards that had been sent out to look for the missing tax collector. Neither the man nor his coach had been found by now, so the question remained whether he’d been attacked or had gone into hiding himself. Osmond’s gut told him that it was likely the former, as the man had been loyal for many years now, but that wasn’t why this report made him grimace. This incident wasn’t directly related to the current events at the castle, but... The money and goods this specific man had gathered had been meant to pay for Astrid’s wedding, both for the celebrations and also her dowry. And while the castle’s treasury was filled well enough to compensate the loss, this report only reminded him of what he tried not to think about too often – that this entire charade was being paid at the expense of his beloved daughter.

Osmond leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face, but then stood up and, almost without thinking, walked over to a large painting that hung in the more comfortable corner of his office. With tired eyes, he looked up into the face of his beloved Brenna; it was so similar to Astrid’s that he sometimes, when she entered a room or they met in the corridors, thought it was her.

“I wonder what you would have to say if you were here, my love,” he murmured, reaching out to let his fingers glide along the gilded frame. “I assume you’d scold me for using our daughter as bait, especially after the price you paid for her life. But that’s the lot of the royal family, isn’t it? To make sacrifices for the good of the people. And from what it looks like, she’s going to marry Eret’s son; that isn’t too bad, right? Not what you and your best friend had hoped for, not her marrying her son but only her nephew. But given the circumstances, this is the best option for her. I just wish I could already tell her why all this is necessary, but I promise that I will do so eventually. I hope she may forgive me one day, and… and I hope you can, too.”

But, of course, he got no answer. Brenna just kept gazing down at him with those beautiful deep blue eyes and that slightly cheeky smile of hers. Gods, how much he missed her...

For a little while longer, he stayed where he was, gazing up at the painting, before he returned to his desk. He knew that Astrid wasn’t thrilled about any of this, but at least she seemed to be better now that she’d apparently made her choice. All he could do now was hope that, over time, the close friendship she and young Eret shared would turn into more; that was why he’d instructed to grant her more time with him and Oswald’s boy during the weeks before her birthday, after all.

Although… given how much pain love had brought him, he wasn’t so sure whether that was really something to wish for. Losing Brenna, the love of his life, had nearly killed him too. It had certainly maimed his heart for many years. Only reluctantly, he’d agreed to marry again ten years later, and it had taken three more years to overcome his aversion against the woman his advisors had picked for him. And just when his heart had started to love again, she’d been taken from him, too. Logically, he knew that the bad days were only bearable because he could remember the happy ones… but he also hoped that none of his children would ever have to suffer the pain of burying their loved ones way too early.

. o O o .

“Ah, there’s nothing quite like a good ride through the countryside, don’t you agree?”

Osmond glanced at his friend Eret II from the corner of his eye, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I do. But you do remember that not everyone feels the same way, yes? There’s no need to tease Oswald tonight for not wanting to come along.”

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that?” Eret pouted.

From the side, Spitelout approached them on his white stallion. Out of the four of them, he was the only one not riding one of the Jag’r horses, as he’d never had the patience to learn how to deal with one of the demanding beasts. “No, really, Eret. You shouldn’t tease Ozzie; he gets enough riding of another sort, after all. Grapevine has it that he and his mistress are expecting again.”

“Oh, is that so?” Eret laughed. “You really do have your spies everywhere, don’t you?”

Spitelout shrugged with a wide grin. “I like to be well-informed.”

Osmond joined in into the laughter that followed, though only half-heartedly. His eyes had fallen on someone dressed in a wide flowing dress of blue and turquoise, and after a murmured excuse to his friends, he led his horse to her side.

“Good morning, Astrid,” he greeted her, smiling warmly, but just as he’d feared and expected, she barely even looked at him in return.

“Good morning, Sire,” she replied obediently, making a perfect bow on the back of her broad gelding.

Her formal address pained him, but he didn’t let anything show. He was aware of her current opinion of him, and as much as he’d liked to explain and maybe redeem himself in her eyes – he knew that this wasn’t the time, not yet. Maybe it would come one day – when the traitors were dealt with and secrecy wasn’t as crucial anymore – but for now, it was better she focused all her anger on him. It hopefully meant that her heart was otherwise free to find warmth and comfort in young Eret’s arms.

“I hope this ride is to your liking,” he tried nonetheless. “I know how fond you are of riding, so I hope this is a welcome diversion to the latest events for you.” The necessary hunts and tournaments might be supposedly to her honour, but Osmond was no fool. He knew his daughter well enough to know that she wasn’t enjoying those, which was why he’d done everything in his power to follow young Eret’s suggestions and squeeze in this ride between the other planned events.

Astrid, however, merely shrugged. “I’ll try to enjoy it if that is your wish. With this saddle, this company, and the expected pace, I can’t make any promises though.”

With these words, she directed her gaze to the side to where now the last members of the party, young Eret and his squire, Stoick’s boy, came to join them. Her turning away without a word in public was borderline discourteous – he hadn’t dismissed her, after all – but she hadn’t turned her back on him. So, Osmond didn’t reprimand her. He wanted her to focus on the newcomer, after all.

Instead, he simply gave the signal for the group to get started. He rode at the front, with Astrid at his side and a few guards loosely around them, but soon the formation shifted and changed and he could only watch her from a bit of a distance as he made way for the young men around them to talk to her. For a short while, young Eret rode next to her and it was obvious how much more relaxed she was around him. But soon, voices got louder that demanded their share of the Princess’s time as well, and so her attention was taken up by the ever-changing and increasingly desperate conversational partners.

“They haven’t given up just yet, eh?” Eret II muttered as he rode next to Osmund and shook his head.

Spitelout snorted. “Of course, they haven’t. Many of them came a long way to court her, and so far, nothing is official. I doubt even tonight’s ball will change that.”

They all watched as young Snotlout took his place at Astrid’s side next and it didn’t escape anyone’s notice how she pursed her lips at that. Osmond threw Spitelout an inquisitive look, interested in how his friend would react to the obvious rejection, but either he didn’t care much or he was way better at hiding his opinion than he’d thought. There was no reaction in his friend’s face whatsoever, so Osmond just shrugged and for a while, they rode on without much in terms of conversation. It really was a lovely day, and spending it outside with a leisure activity like peacefully riding along the shore of Lake Vola instead of brooding over even more reports was a great diversion.

“Oh, I can’t believe it!” Eret exclaimed after what had to be nearly two hours into their ride. Soon, they would take a break to eat the picnic the servants riding with them had brought along before they would return to the castle.

Curious about what agitated his friend so much, Osmond followed his eyes to the young man who now approached Astrid – and gritted his teeth. Duke Thuggory of Meathead. If he could, Osmond would have forbidden him to come close to his daughter. But he had no legitimate reason to do so, nothing but assumptions, suspicions, and secret information. No, all he could do was watch and silently apologise to Astrid for making her endure this.

But apparently, his friend’s agitation had another reason.

“I wonder how that piece of filth got his hands on one of our horses,” Eret hissed. “Because he certainly didn’t get it directly from us. I’d rather take a good stallion back to our farms again before I hand him over to someone who wouldn’t treat him right. But with his influence, it probably wasn’t difficult for him to find a middleman. Odin, I wish I could demand the poor beast back from him. See? He can’t even control him right!”

Osmond’s eyes narrowed to slits as he watched the hated nobleman. Eret was right, the stallion the duke was riding was barely under his control, prancing left and right and throwing his head around. The sight wasn’t exactly reassuring – although it did come with the hope that the Duke would get thrown from the saddle and break his neck, thereby removing the biggest threat to the realm, as Thuggory’s lands were a knife poised at the heart of the kingdom, only a day’s ride from Lake Vola. But there was the fact that he was so close to Astrid, and riding so haphazardly. It was only his knowledge about Astrid’s exceptional riding skills that kept him from interfering then and there.

A decision he regretted only seconds later – and probably would for the rest of his life.

It happened in an instant, too fast for him or anyone else around them to react. When Thuggory rode closer to Astrid, his stallion threw its head up and tried to bite Astrid’s gelding without warning. Astrid’s horse shied away from the aggressive stallion with a distressed whinny. She tried to reign him in, but couldn’t hold him when Thuggory’s stallion attacked again, his jaws snapping with a harsh click! that Osmund could even hear from his place yards away. When Markor bolted away from the attacking stallion, his panic infected many of the horses around him, but Osmund was less concerned about the sudden stampede than he was about the fact that Astrid was at the head of it, barely able to keep her seat as Markor ran for his life.

“After them!” he bellowed, unable to get to his daughter himself with all the jumbled horses around him. But his words drowned in the general uproar, all men around shouting over one another. It was chaos, and he barely managed to keep sight of Astrid and her horse as they set off across a field and toward a nearby copse of aspen. Again, he tried to push through the chaos, but to no avail. Thor, keep her safe! he prayed desperately, helpless to do anything.

Then he lost sight of her completely and only a few moments later, a bloodcurdling scream thundered over the plain. The chaos grew as even more horses panicked at the noise, running off in all directions. But Osmond froze even as his steed beneath him pranced left and right, his heart stuttering painfully. No… No, he couldn’t lose her too!

Frantically, he tried to push through the mass of milling horses and riders; most of the mounts weren’t battle-trained and were running wild, resulting in utter chaos. He kept having to halt and turn or risk a collision, but he didn’t dare stop; his eyes were darting to and fro, looking for that patch of blue and turquoise that would tell him where his daughter was. He couldn’t find her, but a moment later he spotted something else that, while still telling him nothing about where Astrid was or whether she was alright, at least somewhat eased his mind.

There were two riders darting past the general throng, one on a big black stallion and the other one astride a smaller chestnut mare. But unlike most of the others on this ride, they were clearly still in full control of their horses, heading in the direction Astrid’s gelding had disappeared to.

With knowing that young Eret was already coming to her help, Osmond was able to calm down somewhat, enough to concentrate on his own surroundings again. It took him a few minutes, but eventually, he managed to find a way out of the chaos as many men got their horses under control again.

When he and a group of other men reached the copse, it took them a minute to find Astrid and Eret, the sounds of her wailing and of soft whispers leading their way. The sight that greeted them was reassuring – but still bad enough.

From what it looked like, Astrid was unharmed with only her hair and dress ruffled from the fall. He couldn’t be entirely sure though as she was largely hiding from everyone’s view, encased in Eret’s embrace and her face buried against his chest. The same couldn’t be said for her horse though. The gelding lay a few steps away from the couple, unmoving, and with Stoick’s boy kneeling near his head.

“Oh, by Thor’s hammer!” Eret cursed as he reached his side a few moments later. He’d apparently seen the obvious too – the unnatural angle in which the gelding’s left hind leg dangled, a bloody splinter of bone sticking out from the skin, the bloody dagger lying next to his head, and the equally bloody hands of the boy stroking the dead horse’s mane. From the looks of it, the horse had stumbled, possibly in a burrow or on other uneven ground, and thrown Astrid off, who had miraculously landed uninjured... but Markor had broken his leg, and badly. Stoick’s boy had given the only mercy available to the poor beast.

During the next minutes, more men appeared around them, taking in the scene with gasps and hushed whispers. Some offered their sympathy even though nobody dared to get any closer, and Osmond doubted that Astrid heard any of that between Eret murmuring into her ear and her own sobbing and wailing. It was a strange sight and it took Osmond a minute to understand why.

Astrid was crying.

He tried to remember when he’d last seen her in such a state but came up empty-handed except for very early memories of her toddler years. No matter how dreadful an occasion, be it her stepmother’s funeral or the assaults on her during the past year, she’d always kept up her facade when in public, had always shown nothing but strength. For her to break down like this now… His eyes wandered back to the dead gelding, and only slowly did it dawn on him how hard this must have hit her. He wanted to go to her, too, to take his daughter into his arms and comfort her. But she wouldn’t appreciate that – even her warder kept his distance, leaving her the space she needed – so he held back.

Instead, he ordered to no-one in particular, “We will return to the castle immediately.” That would give her at least a little privacy.

Around him, the men hustled about, delivering the message to those standing farther away. Young Eret tried to pull Astrid away from the site of the accident, and Osmond heard him murmur “Come, there’s nothing left we can do for him,” when she weakly fought against him. Eventually, she gave in though, and let him lead her toward his own horse. She was already on the stallion’s back, young Eret about to climb up behind her, when a highly unwelcome voice spoke up near them.

“Isn’t this an unfair advantage to Sir Eret if the Princess rides with him? It’s not as if her choice is official yet, she could still change her mind.”

Osmond gritted his teeth but kept his expression neutral as he turned toward Duke Thuggory. There was no hint of remorse on his face, even though he and his lack of control over his stallion were to blame for this accident. If only he’d interfered sooner – or had gotten rid of the traitor already.

He was about to form an answer when he caught sight of his friends’ expressions standing nearby. Eret was grimacing, clearly as enraged as Osmond was about the Duke’s behaviour, but Spitelout looked more cautious, and when he caught his eyes, he shrugged apologetically. “He has a point.”

Osmond pressed his lips into a thin line. Of course, he had a point. Not only about giving an advantage to one of her suitors, but letting her ride on a stallion was also highly inappropriate. Letting out a low sigh, his shoulders slumped down. As much as he wanted to grant her the comfort of riding with her soon-to-be-husband, he couldn’t allow it yet. His eyes wandered around, pondering the alternatives. If it were only about not giving an advantage, she could ride with him or one of the Grand Dukes, but they were all riding stallions, too, and it wasn’t really becoming of their status anyway. Her warder would be a better option, but Osmond doubted the old pony the man was riding could carry two people over such a distance. His eyes wandered on, over the guards who also all rode stallions and the servants with their full picnic baskets. None of them were suitable options either and he wasn’t sure whether to trust them with Astrid in her brittle state right now anyway. He was at a loss as to what to decide – until his eyes fell on the lonely figure still kneeling next to the horse’s corpse.

The boy rode a mare, didn’t he? In addition, he had no further weight to carry, and hadn’t he become something of a friend to Astrid, too? Also… he didn’t know the boy at all, but with what Osmund remembered about his parents, how his upbringing must have been, and how highly Daniel was thinking of him – he couldn’t help but trust in the boy’s character.

Being satisfied with this decision, he declared in a voice which clearly didn’t tolerate protest, “The Princess will ride with Sir Eret’s squire.”

. o O o .

Here again the reminder that I can't promise there won't be a new chapter in two weeks! We're on family vacation and the next chapter is too important to be released in a half-finished state.

Next chapter

#For The Love Of A Princess #FTLOAP #Hiccstrid #Hiccstrid fanfiction #fanfiction #httyd #httyd fanfiction #Romance/Angst/Hurt/Comfort/Fluff #Hiccstrid Medieval AU #medieval au #hiccstrid royal au #royalty au

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long-roads-travelled · 5 years

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Chapter 7 Part 1

I lit a fire in the fireplace, trying to be quiet so I wouldn’t bother Ossian and Deklan. It was just three in the morning, according to the clock in the kitchen, and I’ve only slept an hour. I sighed when the fire went and promptly sat on the floor in front of it, my hugging my knees in the otherwise dark and lifeless room. The few mounted heads of rabbits and rams Dek had killed long ago leered at me from the wall to my left.

Owl’s hooting and fox’s barks somewhere out in the woods kept me company in the dimness. The crackling of the fire did too, but it wasn’t living. The flame itself was comforting to stare into, but not enough tonight.

The scuffle I had with Duana a couple days ago hadn’t stopped bothering me. It wasn’t because of Duana herself, though. The way she gripped my neck… well, it brought back memories. Memories I’ve tried so hard to erase that wouldn’t stop trickling back now. I wasn’t yet strong enough to fight them back for good, it seems. Memories, distant shouts of my father’s neverending anger and the far-away shattering of things began to take me over, stomping down any rational thought I’d had beforehand.

I started rocking back and forth, biting my lip with my ears fully pinned. My da’s angry, whiskey-slurred voice rang out in my head nonstop, telling me about how I’d never be worth anything no matter who married me. My ma’s voice shouting, berating me for being unable to have a child most times, hating how I couldn’t keep a spouse. Both of them getting violent.

I began to breathe harder than usual, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to block out the voices, but to no avail. I couldn’t hear anything else. I felt like I was back there. I thought I was.

“You’ll never be worth shit,” I heard. “You’re a damn slag! It’s no wonder you can’t keep anyone you marry!” he bellowed, that gravelly, commanding voice erupting from his throat and echoing through the raggedy old house.

He finished the whiskey and threw the bottle at me with the force of the winter winds on the coast, but missed. I heard the shattering of glass on the wood floor. “Can’t have no kids, can’t ‘ardly weave. Wha’s the point’a ya?! Layin’ ‘round here, wastin’ me precious time!”

I could only sob. It wouldn’t stop.

“A worthless scanger!” He found a fag in his pocket and lit it. A puff of smoke came from his mouth soon after. “I ought’a kill ya. Feed ya to the hounds, out in them feckin’ fields!” I could see him get closer, pointing at me. “You are dead to me. A disappointment! I should’a had a wee laddie. I bleedin’ deserve one!” He threw his fist back, winding up.

I felt a large hand on my shoulder as soon as my father reeled back, flinching away from it hard. I heard a voice, but couldn’t register who it was. “Go ‘way, g-go ‘way!” I pleaded, wailing. “I haven’t d-done an-nythin’!”

“Connie! Hey!” went the voice. I finally recognized it was Deklan, whimpering quietly as I came back to reality, curled up and rocking.

“Connie, you’re okay. You’re safe. Ossian and I are here. Calm down,” he said with the softest voice, keeping a fair distance away and crouched. “Whatever’s got you panicking isn’t here anymore.”

“Mm…” I kept my eyes down, my tail thrashing across the rug. One of them draped a quilt around my shoulders and I basically hid in it. I grunted and rubbed my belly before crossing my arm over it.

“Back with us, mate?” Dek asked. His patience was unmatched.

“Y-yeah,” I muttered. I rubbed my eyes, sniffling. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. It happens,” Dek whispered. He held a hand out towards me, an attempt to be supportive. I looked at it warily, then hesitantly took it. “There we are. Just calm yourself down, Connie,” he crooned, squeezing my hand with the most sincere gentleness. He inched closer, always making sure I was okay with it.

I sighed shakily and looked back down at the floor. I felt horrible for waking them up this early, but I wouldn’t dare say anything. I pulled the quilt tighter around myself, then rubbed my eye, still shaking like a wee leaf.

“Tea?” Ossian offered. I hadn’t noticed he was there, so I jumped, but nodded and took the mug, sniffing it before I sipped it.

Sterrin the buzzard flew out of his cage and landed on the floor in front of me, tilting his head. He’d been away for a couple days, so to see him safe and well again was a relief. I sighed quietly and extended my leg, letting him hop onto what wasn’t under a blanket, rubbing my arm as I took a sip of my tea.

The three of us sat in a comfortable silence for a good while, maybe an hour, Ossian and Dek knowing I preferred it like that when I was upset.

I stared into the fire, mesmerized by it. Who wouldn’t be? I got lost in my thoughts, absently running my thumb back and forth on my bicep. I didn’t pay any mind when Ossian told Deklan that he was going back to bed.

I knew my parents were miles away now—Hell, they were on the opposite end of the island—but for some reason, I still felt panic and dread when they came to mind. Would they come looking for me? Kill me for running? I don’t know. It was a hellish thing to think about, but it came up almost every night, even five years later.

“Hey,” Deklan whispered after the silence, “you wanna talk about it?”

“Uhm.” I shifted uncomfortably, flicking an ear lightly. I cleared my throat. “Not really.”

“That’s okay, I understand,” he hummed, his voice soft and comforting. “I’m here if you ever do.”

“Thanks,” I sighed. Eventually, I looked at him, understandably shy. “Uh. Would ya mind if I... slept in your room with you?”

“Sure man, whatever you think’s gonna help.” Dek got up, helping me up as well. Sterrin squawked and hopped off of my leg when I moved, going off elsewhere.

I followed Deklan back to the guest room he was staying in, rubbing my side, my ears still pinned back. He let me get settled in bed, saying he’d go put out the fireplace. I let him, curled up against the rickety headboard by the time he came back a few minutes later.

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As the sun rose slowly over our patch of woods, a few birds chirped to welcome its presence, the rustle of woodland creatures outside providing background noise. It had finally stopped snowing and the clouds have dispersed. The measly rays of the winter sun peeked through the curtains, so Sterrin hopped out of the makeshift nest that was underneath one nightstand and fluttered up onto the bed, waddling over our legs. They must’ve seemed mountainous to him.

That combined with the sun hitting my face made me finally wake up. I’d slept better with Dek there than I expected, but I wasn’t complaining. I grunted and shooed Sterrin away, which made him squawk, but he did hop off and go into another room. Presumably to Ossian’s room to pester him for food instead. I chuckled at the thought of it; that scrawny bit of a stallion, being harassed by a buzzard! What a sight.

There was a squawk and a distant gekker of surprise from Ossian’s room, followed by muffled jabbering and hoofsteps towards the kitchen a minute later. Atta boy, Sterrin.

I moved to lay back against my elbows, looking down at the still-sleeping Dek beside me. The gargantuan bey he was could hardly fit on the bed, which was obviously made for the humans before us who were under 185 centimeters, so he’d curled up during the night. His hair was fantastically bonkers, too. The fact that I was friends with one of the most amazing beygir in town was astonishing, really. A lowlife runaway like me actually making friends was a shock on its own.

I debated whether or not I should wake him up. I did keep them up pretty late the night before, so I decided not to, as much as I needed one of his absolutely fucking stellar hugs right now. I guess it would be best to let him sleep. Mustn’t risk a cranky giant stomping around.

I stared at him, tracing his face with my eyes as I got to thinking about the question he’d asked me in the woods during our little walk back from the river ages ago. Were things better in Rosnya? Skies above, what a loaded question. I didn’t have a clue. Surely it’s better than this righteous hellhole. All the papers say that Rosyna’s a treacherous land, but knowing the Cotharian government, well…

Bah, I mustn’t get too down on that. I’ve already got myself to get me upset. I’m sure Rosnya’s just fine. I’ve heard that the Rosnyan Empress—Sarangerel, I think—is a bit aloof and awkward, but she seems like a good bey. She cares, or at least tries her hardest to. That’s got to be at least somewhat admirable.

Outside, a nearby bird chirped, snapping me out of my thoughts again. I sat upright again and leaned over Deklan to grab my sketchpad from my nightstand, pursing my lips at the effort it took to not topple onto him. Like I said, don’t want a cranky giant.

“Aha! Got you, bitch,” I muttered to myself upon grabbing the sketchpad and pencil. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed to face the window, then began to draw the usual, yet undeniably stunning, scenery outside. How could I not?

I sighed through my nose, pausing my hand for a minute to think and look up, which was when I also rubbed across my chest absentmindedly. A wee habit of mine, let’s say. I kept on with sketching out the low-lying shrubbery, twisting my hoof as I focused. It was a good time killer, this.

A good while passed—I don’t know how long exactly, but I was nearly halfway done—before I felt the bed shift. I closed the pad and looked behind me to see Dek grumbling with his arm over his eyes. He muttered something about the sun being a cunt, which made me snicker.

“Good mornin’ to ya, toss-head,” I said teasingly, putting my sketchpad up. “Slept in pretty late.”

“Ah, bugger off,” he whined, raising his hand to wave me off. I giggled again.

“I will never,” I grinned and tapped the white spot on the tip of his nose. “As long as you’re in my house, you’ll deal with me and my annoying ways.”

“Shite.” Deklan groaned and sat up, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “Do I gotta?”

“Yes. Now let’s go see if Ozzy’s made breakfast.” I hopped up, slapping his stomach with a cackle before scampering out to the main room.

“Oi! You—“ Dek huffed and chased me, grabbing me from behind. “Come here, squirt!”

“Lemme go!” I squealed, giggling and squirming around. “Noooo!”

“Feeling better from last night already, hey?” Dek commented, a laugh in his voice now too as he held onto me persistently.

“I might be,” I said through laughs. “Now lemme down, you gargantuan prick!”

“What’re you two gurriers doing?” Ossian chided lightly, peering in from the kitchen at us.

“Connie-boy here slapped my belly when I woke up!”

“And he won’t let me go!” I added, still wiggling around.

“Bozos,” Ossian chuckled. “As long as you aren’t killing each other, I guess.”

Dek and I laughed and went back to it, playful growls filling the the room. I gave up on wiggling and turned around in his arms. I climbed up him, swatting his hands away when he tried to pull me off. Cackling mischievously, I maneuvered around to perch on his shoulders, then draped my miniscule self over his head so my nose was against his beard. “Hello!”

“Bastard,” Dek giggled, lightly slapping his hands on my cheeks.

“Thank you. I take that as a compliment,” I stated confidently. I bit his nose playfully, then wiggled down to the floor while he laughed at me.

I sighed and rolled my shoulders once I was at ground level, running my hand through my wild hair, a smile still on my face. It was nice to get my mind off of things for a bit. I skipped over to see what Ossian was doing, wedging my face under his arm since he was so tall, although I did have to slouch over. He snorted at me in amusement and moved his arm to let me.

“Whatcha makin’?” I asked , grinning when he just giggled and shook his head.

“Ulster fry. Gosh, you’re in a fun mood this morning, huh?” Ossian poked my nose. I nipped at his finger, snorting ridiculously through my nose as I did so, which made him jump slightly and cackle.

“That answer your question?” I giggled, finally taking my head out from under his arm. Deklan was making tea now, which wasn’t necessarily a surprise.

“I guess it does,” Ossian chuckled.

I hummed softly, deciding to go get dressed while those two were busy. I popped into my room and closed the door, flinging off my pajamas. I opened my wardrobe and pulled out a cream-and-black chevron sweater, putting it on over my head before crouching down to find some pants, putting them on too. “Now, a final touch…” I muttered happily to myself, slapping on my old and worn leather flat cap with a grin just after. The black leg wraps went on before I left, going to sit at the kitchen table.

“Aye, the man’s clean on! Goin’ somewhere spiffy today then, mate?” Deklan erupted happily, looking at me.

Shyly, I grinned and shook my head, taking a seat in the chair in front of the window. “Nah. Figured I’d look nice for myself, you know. It helps with things like last night,” I replied honestly, looking down as I ran my finger along the grain of the wooden table. Deklan nodded in understanding and came to sit with me.

“Yeah, I get ya,” he sighed, watching my finger. “What was that about, anyway?”

I bit my lip at that, debating whether or not to tell him. Eventually I just shook my head. “I’ll tell ya later,” I murmured, my tail flicking from side to side rhythmically. “Right now I think it’s time to stuff our faces.”

“Agreed,” Deklan hummed, apparently not minding the change in topic. Ossian came over with plates for each of us and set them down in front of us, a smile on his face, as usual. Dek dove in immediately, and I chuckled at him as I ate in a decent manner, going for the sausage first. A pleased little hum came from my throat.

“By God, Dekkie, slow down. You’ll choke on somethin’,” Ossian chided and lightly gave him a pap on the head. Deklan looked up at him, his cheeks looking quite similar to a chipmunk’s and his fluffy ears pricked forward.

“Oh. Sorry,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by the copious amount of food in his mouth. I giggled at him, which made him turn to look at me. “Wha’s so funny?”

“You— you’re— ha!” I snorted, laughing harder once I could see just how silly his cheeks were. He leaned closer to me, also smiling now, which just made me laugh even harder because of how ridiculous he looked. I hit the table, making the silverware clatter.

“Whaaaat?”

“Stop l-lookin’ at me!” I managed to get out through cackles, waving my hand at him. He giggled and swallowed his food, finally letting me catch my breath. Ossian was laughing at me now too, but mostly at our combined ridiculousness.

I kept giggling to myself anyway, in a drastically better mood than last night, which I intended to remain. I sighed eventually and continued on with eating my breakfast. We sat in a comfortable silence after that. Ossian finished first and got up to take his plate to the sink, his usual humming emanating from wherever he was.

“Lads,” Dek spoke up, “we should take a wee trip into town. See if we can find our mate Officer O’Driscoll,” he proposed, turning to look at Ossian when he said the last part. Ossian, unsurprisingly, perked up at that.

“Sure, I can do that. Let me get myself together,” Ozzy said giddily.

Deklan turned to look at me, his bushy blond eyebrows raised. “Whaddabout you, rawny?”

“I guess I can tag along,” I shrugged. “I still don’t like him much.”

“He’s a fine man, Connie.”

“Sure, but, well… I don’t trust the military,” I stated. I feel like I’ve said that millions of times in the past month.

“Give ‘im a chance, mate. He seems harmless enough,” Dek whined at me, his ears pinning and tail snaking about. It was hard to say no to him when he pulled that move.

“Ugh… Alright, fine. I will.” I rapped my fingers on the table before getting up. Deklan fist pumped in triumph, then headed off to put on better clothes, leaving me alone in the main room.

I looked around the place and sighed. My ears went back after a minute. I couldn’t help but acknowledge the feeling that something would go wrong today. Sighing, I shook my head and dismissed it just as the other two came back. They were pestering each other and laughing, as usual.

“Hey! Ready to go, pipsqueak?” Deklan chirped excitedly, stealing my cap to ruffle up my hair.

I snorted and turned to try and get it back, but he held it far above my head. “Really?” I huffed. Dek just snickered and nodded. “You’re forgetting something.” I jumped onto him, climbing up his tree trunk of a body, to which he squealed.

“Bastard! That’s cheating!”

“I’m getting it back fair ‘n square, shut up,” I snickered, giving him a pap on the head as I grabbed my cap back. I jumped down and put it back on with a victorious sigh.

“Whatever,” he chuckled, wiping off his shirt. He grabbed his canvas jacket and tossed me my trench coat, which I caught easily and put on. “No more climbin’ me.”

“Fine.”

“You two are ridiculous,” Ossian giggled as he put on his coat, shaking his head at us, making us giggle as well. He led the way out, Dek and I following him. Once we were on the path to town we picked up to a trot, but for me to keep up with their kilometer-long legs, I had to canter. Guess I didn’t mind some exercise.

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(this is labeled part 1 b/c i post from my phone so i have a paragraph limit and also it’s been too long since i’ve posted)

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imagine-loki · 7 years

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Blood Is Thicker Than Water, Chapter 17

TITLE: Blood Is Thicker Than Water CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 17 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine that Loki and Magneto (Fassbender) have teamed up together to try and wipe out the human race. So SHIELD track down and send in a mutant (has the ability to communicate with all animals) undercover to try and get close to them for information… RATING: M

‘Aurora, calm down. We can’t just go barging inside the place without a plan and help.’ Erik said as he tried to reason with his daughter.

‘You said it yourself. We have to act now! Who knows what they might be planning to do with those dam weapons. We can’t just sit here.’ Aurora shouted at him as she rushed around, trying to draw out a map of the HQ.

‘Dante is on his way over, he has two others with him as well to help us.’ Loki said as he walked into the room.

‘At least wait until they arrive, Aurora. I am only worried for your safety, please. Wait.’ Erik said as he held Aurora’s upper arms so she was to stop and look at him.

‘Alright. Fine.’ Aurora nodded.

The three of them sat down at the table and together they worked out the map of the HQ from the footage they had from the crow and the mice. Aurora circled the two rooms where the weapons and plans were kept.

‘There might be a location of Hydra’s base in one of those drawers. That’s where I will need to look.’ Aurora said as she pointed at the room she had just circled.

‘That’s if they haven’t moved things yet. Chances are they have found the weapons all over the floor and shifted things around.’ Loki mumbled, deep in thought as he looked at the map.

‘I have a better idea. We need all the help we can get, so why not get The Avengers on our side?’ Dante said as he suddenly walked in with a woman and a man behind him.

Aurora looked at Loki and Erik, a smile on her face.

‘That’s actually a really really good idea.’ Aurora said as she moved the map out of the way and grabbed the photos that showed the evidence of SHIELD having weapons against mutants and helping Hydra.

‘This is Ozzy and Chantelle. They’re who I was telling you about before.’ Dante said as he introduced them all.

Aurora noticed Chantelle take a second glance at Loki, looking very interested in him. Her hand lingered for longer than necessary as they shook hands. For some reason that rubbed Aurora up the wrong way.

‘I’m Aurora, Loki’s girl.’ Aurora said blatantly as she stood up and put her hand out.

Chantelle looked at Aurora and smiled as she shook her hand.

‘Nice to meet you.’ Chantelle said.

Loki looked at Aurora with an eyebrow up in amusement. Even Erik noticed and was slightly amused.

‘So what powers do you two have?’ Loki asked as he sat down next to Aurora.

‘I can fly.’ Chantelle smirked as she demonstrated by flying up to the roof, then back down again.

‘And I control water.’ Ozzy smiled as he put his hand up and water came from the sink over to his hand like a waterfall.

‘Impressive.’ Erik nodded.

‘So, what’s the plan? I hear there’s some ass to kick.’ Chantelle said as she sat down at the table.

Aurora, Loki and Erik filled them in with their discovery. They discussed through the new plans. Aurora was going to sneak into SHIELD HQ and find Natasha. She was going to show her the pictures and hopefully, she would see sense and help them.

It was a long shot, but they had to try. With The Avengers out of the way, it would be much easier to take down SHIELD and Hydra.

‘There you are, my jealous little girlfriend.’ Loki chuckled as he found Aurora down in the basement doing a bit of boxing before they left to SHIELD HQ.

‘Jealous? What are you on about?’ Aurora asked innocently as she continued to punch the bag.

‘You know exactly what I am on about. You weren’t exactly conspicuous about it, darling.’ Loki said as he grabbed her around her waist and pulled her into him, making her squeal.

‘Well, I was just making sure that she knows you’re mine.’ Aurora said as she turned around in Loki’s arms and looked up at him.

‘Oh I am sure she knows.’ Loki grinned.

They closed the distance between them and pressed their lips together in a soft kiss.

‘Promise me you will be safe, love. The first sign of trouble and you will call for me?’ Loki said over her lips.

‘I will, I promise.’ Aurora nodded.

‘I mean it, darling. I would be lost without you. You mean the world to me, more than you know.’ Loki said as he slid his hands up to cup her face.

‘You’re not getting all soppy on me now, are you?’ Aurora teased.

Loki smirked but then his face grew serious again.

‘I’m serious, Aurora. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you. I love you.’

Aurora’s eyes widened as her heart skipped a beat. Did he really just say that?

‘I… I love you too, Loki.’ Aurora said with a big smile.

Loki kissed her again, but this time it heated up quickly. He soon had her down on the sofa, that was at the back of the room, undressing her.

He took her in the most gentle way he could. It was tender and sweet, slow and gentle. Another side to him that Aurora saw for the first time. Not that he had been rough with her before, but he had never been as loving.

He held her tightly in his arms afterwards. They just cuddled and kissed softly for a while as they spoke.

‘Once this is all over, I’m going to take you away somewhere. Just the two of us.’ Loki said as he ran his fingers across her back.

‘Really? What about your plan for taking over Asgard?’ Aurora asked as she leaned up a bit more to look at Loki.

'It is starting to look less important now that you’re in my life… Perhaps revenge can wait.’ Loki said honestly as he looked at Aurora.

Aurora felt her heart soar with happiness as she smiled and lay her head back down against the crook of his neck.

‘I really hope this plan works. We need to get to Hydra before any more mutants are hurt.’ Aurora said as she absentmindedly traced her fingers across his bare chest.

‘Me too. I am sure we’ Loki was cut off from finishing his sentence as Erik suddenly walked in.

‘Aurora are you here? Shit!’ Erik hissed as he covered his eyes, he hadn’t expected to see his daughter naked and in a naked Loki’s arms.

‘She is here. What do you want?’ Loki asked as he grinned smugly.

‘We’re ready to go. When you are.’ Erik said sheepishly as he rushed out of the room.

‘She might be a while, her legs are a bit shaky.’ Loki shouted after him.

‘Loki!’ Aurora said as she hit his chest. ‘That is my dad!’

‘Yeah, but your dad is metal man. That’s what makes it so funny.’ Loki grinned wickedly as Aurora rolled her eyes at him.

‘Are you sure you’re up for this?’ Erik asked Aurora when she and Loki joined them upstairs.

‘I’m sure.’ Aurora said, fed up of people asking her that.

‘Show him what you showed me this morning.’ Loki said to Aurora, and she smirked as she looked at Erik.

‘What?’ Erik asked, cautiously.

Aurora walked over to her dad and she grabbed his forearm. As she turned around 180 degrees, she pulled hard on his arm and was able to pull him straight up over her shoulder and she threw him down to the floor on front of her. He hit the floor hard on his back with a loud thud and a groan of pain.

‘Holy shit. That’s impressive.’ Dante chuckled.

‘All the training with Loki has paid off.’ Aurora said proudly as she crossed her arms over her chest and grinned at Erik as he stood up, his hand on his back.

‘That is rather impressive. Well done.’ He said as he nodded at Aurora. ‘Just give me warning next time.’ He said as he let out a whoosh of air, making Aurora laugh.

‘Right, let’s do this.’ Aurora nodded and rubbed her hands together.

Loki, Erik, Dante, Ozzy and Chantelle were all situated in different locations around the HQ. They were keeping a close eye out for any sign of trouble.

Loki’s stomach was in knots with worry for Aurora. Though he didn’t want to show it. He knew that Aurora could handle herself, that she didn’t like much of a fuss. But it didn’t stop him from worrying about her.

Aurora was inside SHIELD HQ as a rat. She was carrying the photo evidence in her mouth which made it a little more difficult to stay hidden and maneuver around. Though she managed it by staying up high in the drafters and pipes.

It didn’t take long at all for her to find Natasha, she was in a room on her own. Perfect.

The only small matter that she had to deal with was the issue of always being naked when she turned back into her human form. So she decided to stay as a rat and hope that Natasha wouldn’t freak out.

She put the paper she had in her mouth down on the floor by her feet. Then she nudged at her ankle to get her attention. Natasha looked down and was a little startled to see a rat at her feet. But before she had the chance to do anything, Aurora turned into a cat. Then it clicked instantly in Natasha’s mind that it was Aurora.

‘Aurora?’ She said and the cat nodded.

‘What are you doing here?’ Natasha asked with a frown.

Aurora put her paw onto the paper and tapped it a few times until Natasha reached down and picked it up. She looked at Aurora wearily as she opened the paper and looked at the pictures. Aurora watched as the realization washed over Natasha’s face and it turned white.

‘Is this… Is this for real? In here?’ Natasha said as she looked at Aurora.

Aurora nodded as she sat watching her, her tail flicked out behind her angrily.

‘I… I don’t know what to say, Aurora. I’m sorry.’ Natasha sighed as she put the paper down and looked at the tabby cat.

‘We can’t let this happen.’ Natasha said as she stood up and grabbed her gun, putting it into her holster as she put on a jacket.

‘I need to have a word with my so called boss. I’ll come to yours later, is that ok?’ Natasha said to Aurora.

Aurora nodded and turned into a mouse, so it was easier to get out again. She looked back round at Natasha once more before going into the vent. She was relieved that Natasha now knew the truth. It was there on paper, so of course she couldn’t deny it anymore.

She just hoped that she would get others on her side too.

Loki was incredibly relieved when he saw Aurora running across the grass towards him as a mouse. He scooped her up into his hands and held her up at face level.

‘Is it done?’ He asked.

Aurora nodded and squeaked.

Loki smiled and then carried her back to the jeep as he radio called the others to tell them the plan had worked and to get back to the jeep.

They had forgotten to take spare clothes for Aurora, so she turned into a cat and just lay on Loki’s lap for the drive back, until she could get clothes.

Loki found it quite amusing having his girlfriend as a cat, lying on his lap. He found it even more amusing when he realised that she would purr like crazy when he scratched under her chin. Even if she would then scowl and growl at him in annoyance when he stopped, making him laugh.

As soon as they got inside, Aurora went upstairs to change and put on clothes. She came straight back down to tell everyone what happened.

‘So Natasha said she was going to have words with Fury. Then she would come here. So we just have to wait and see what happens. Whether she comes alone or with others. But at least she finally knows the truth about what SHIELD are actually up to.’ Aurora told the others.

‘Good work. I’m so proud of you.’ Loki said as he hugged Aurora and kissed the top of her head, making her smile.

‘It was pretty easy to be fair.’ She laughed.

‘But still, it could have been really dangerous. You’re a brave cookie.’ Loki grinned.

‘Nice flattery.’ Aurora grinned back at him.

#Loki #God of Mischief #Submitted fic #submission #chapter 17 #Blood Is Thicker Than Water #fanfichiddles #mutant #magneto #s.h.i.e.l.d.#undercover #daughter #dismay #truth #decides

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fanficshiddles · 7 years

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Blood Is Thicker Than Water, Chapter 17

‘Aurora, calm down. We can’t just go barging inside the place without a plan and help.’ Erik said as he tried to reason with his daughter.

‘Dante is on his way over, he has two others with him as well to help us.’ Loki said as he walked into the room.

‘At least wait until they arrive, Aurora. I am only worried for your safety, please. Wait.’ Erik said as he held Aurora’s upper arms so she was to stop and look at him.

‘Alright. Fine.’ Aurora nodded.

‘There might be a location of Hydra’s base in one of those drawers. That’s where I will need to look.’ Aurora said as she pointed at the room she had just circled.

‘That’s if they haven’t moved things yet. Chances are they have found the weapons all over the floor and shifted things around.’ Loki mumbled, deep in thought as he looked at the map.

‘I have a better idea. We need all the help we can get, so why not get The Avengers on our side?’ Dante said as he suddenly walked in with a woman and a man behind him.

Aurora looked at Loki and Erik, a smile on her face.

‘This is Ozzy and Chantelle. They’re who I was telling you about before.’ Dante said as he introduced them all.

‘I’m Aurora, Loki’s girl.’ Aurora said blatantly as she stood up and put her hand out.

Chantelle looked at Aurora and smiled as she shook her hand.

‘Nice to meet you.’ Chantelle said.

Loki looked at Aurora with an eyebrow up in amusement. Even Erik noticed and was slightly amused.

‘So what powers do you two have?’ Loki asked as he sat down next to Aurora.

‘I can fly.’ Chantelle smirked as she demonstrated by flying up to the roof, then back down again.

‘And I control water.’ Ozzy smiled as he put his hand up and water came from the sink over to his hand like a waterfall.

‘Impressive.’ Erik nodded.

‘So, what’s the plan? I hear there’s some ass to kick.’ Chantelle said as she sat down at the table.

It was a long shot, but they had to try. With The Avengers out of the way, it would be much easier to take down SHIELD and Hydra.

‘There you are, my jealous little girlfriend.’ Loki chuckled as he found Aurora down in the basement doing a bit of boxing before they left to SHIELD HQ.

‘Jealous? What are you on about?’ Aurora asked innocently as she continued to punch the bag.

‘You know exactly what I am on about. You weren’t exactly conspicuous about it, darling.’ Loki said as he grabbed her around her waist and pulled her into him, making her squeal.

‘Well, I was just making sure that she knows you're mine.’ Aurora said as she turned around in Loki’s arms and looked up at him.

‘Oh I am sure she knows.’ Loki grinned.

They closed the distance between them and pressed their lips together in a soft kiss.

‘Promise me you will be safe, love. The first sign of trouble and you will call for me?’ Loki said over her lips.

‘I will, I promise.’ Aurora nodded.

‘I mean it, darling. I would be lost without you. You mean the world to me, more than you know.’ Loki said as he slid his hands up to cup her face.

‘You’re not getting all soppy on me now, are you?’ Aurora teased.

Loki smirked but then his face grew serious again.

‘I’m serious, Aurora. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you. I love you.’

Aurora’s eyes widened as her heart skipped a beat. Did he really just say that?

‘I… I love you too, Loki.’ Aurora said with a big smile.

Loki kissed her again, but this time it heated up quickly. He soon had her down on the sofa, that was at the back of the room, undressing her.

He held her tightly in his arms afterwards. They just cuddled and kissed softly for a while as they spoke.

‘Once this is all over, I’m going to take you away somewhere. Just the two of us.’ Loki said as he ran his fingers across her back.

'Really? What about your plan for taking over Asgard?’ Aurora asked as she leaned up a bit more to look at Loki.