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ladykailitha · 2 months

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Just a little silly thing I thought of watching The Airborne Toxic Event music videos and how it seemed like whenever they needed violin, piano, tambourine...whatever it was always Anna Bulbrook playing.

So what if we steddified it? Steve just picking up whatever instrument Corroded Coffin needs to fill out a song and suddenly he's on tour with them and Eddie still isn't sure how it happened.

****

Eddie was getting frustrated. The band had been working on this song for the last two weeks, but there was still something missing. And he only had mere minutes to finish it before Steve came to pick him up.

Not because they were dating or anything, though...Eddie mentally slapped the side of his head. He was getting off track. Steve was picking him up because his van was in the shop until Friday and Steve had offered to taxi him around.

Like the fucking saint he was.

He screamed his rage, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. But into the resulting silence, he realized it had become too quiet.

When he looked up he saw Steve standing there with a shocked expression on his face.

"You good there, man?" he asked with a grimace.

"Don't mind him," Brian huffed. "He always gets like this when we're stuck on a song."

"Can I hear it?" Steve asked.

Everyone just looked at each other, not speaking.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, not a metalhead, I know. But I am a classically trained musician, maybe I can figure out where it's gone wrong."

"Fine by me," Jeff said with a shrug. "What's it going to hurt?"

Eddie looked up at Steve's earnest face and sighed. "All right, if there are no objections. Let's start it at the top."

And the band played.

"Play it again," Steve muttered.

They looked at each other again, but Eddie just shrugged and they played it again.

Steve nodded. "Okay, I think I've got it. Can I borrow that old keyboard for a sec?"

Gareth looked behind him with a frown. "I mean I guess."

Steve set it up and plug it in. "Brian start on your cue."

The band watched as Brian laid on the base. Steve nodded in time to the music and then began to play a melody on the keyboard. He pointed to Gareth who immediately started banging away.

Eddie came in on vocals and suddenly the song was really coming together.

They practiced it a couple more times, Steve playing the melody line on the keyboard and when they were done all four of the Corroded Coffin boys stared at him in shock.

"Holy shit dude," Jeff said. "What the fuck was that?"

Gareth nodded. "Yeah, man. Eddie hear can play by ear and read music, but that was something else entirely."

"You're going to have to play it with us on Tuesday at the Hideout," Brian said.

Jeff and Gareth agreed. They all turned to Eddie, Steve included.

"I don't know why you're looking at me," Eddie huffed. "I'm down."

Steve just grinned.

****

But then it kept happening. The song was a hit with the Tuesday crowd because of course it was.

They were working on a song and again they were running up against a brick wall. They had already incorporated Steve's piano into it, but it was still missing an extra beat.

They had gotten permission to practice at local college's music room and Steve was getting bored.

He had his part down. There were only a couple of parts were the piano came in so he cast his eyes around the room looking for something mess around with.

His eyes lit up when he spotted his prize. He walked over to the table and picked it up, the clatter of the small metal jingles rattling as he did so.

The band stopped playing and glared at him.

"Don't mind me," he said smugly. "Keep playing."

They went back to starting from the top and as Gareth came in on the drums Steve hit the instrument against the side of his leg in time to the beat.

It stunned Brian so much he missed his cue, his jaw on the floor.

"Stevie..." Eddie said warningly. "What was that?"

Steve grinned. "You said you needed an extra beat. I'm providing the extra beat. Just trust me."

The other band members looked at each other, but did as he suggested.

Sure enough when the chorus came in, and Steve started playing the tambourine, it took everything ounce of professionalism the band had not ground to a complete stop. Then for the verses Steve would play his part on the piano and it just blended so well.

Eddie ran his fingers over his face. "Jesus Christ, Stevie, warn a dude, yeah? You are just sitting over there like a musical genius and it's seriously making the rest of us look bad."

Steve thew back his head and laughed.

"So it's a hit then?"

Everyone groaned.

Jeff shook his head. "Yeah, man. It was a hit."

Steve just grinned.

****

They were recording their first real album in a real studio and while the producers were a little unsure about this weirdo who dressed more like Bruce Springsteen than Kirk Hammett, they had contracted the whole band so they let it slide.

It took Steve two weeks to impress the producers.

Steve had been using the studio off hours (which he did pay them for) to record lullabies on the violin for Robin and Lucas. Violins were the only things that would soothe their anxieties and keep the nightmares at bay.

He had finished his little recording about an hour ago was merely laying down melodies and such that he would play back to see if he liked them.

If only his parents could see him now. Using all that classically trained music to guess Russian code, play lullabies for frightened kids, and preform in a metal band.

Clint Harrington would probably keel over on the spot.

He was so wrapped up in the music, just letting it flow over him that he didn't notice that he had gathered an audience.

He finally stopped and the mic from the sound booth crackled to life startling him.

"Shit, Stevie," Eddie's warm voice said from above him. "Do you think you could play that haunting melody again?"

Steve blushed and then shrugged. "I mean I guess. It was just me playing around. Why?"

"Because everyone in here thinks it's just what Blood-Red Skies needs."

Steve furrowed his brow and then nodded. "Can you pump the track in through the speakers?"

"Yeah," Eddie said breathless. "Just give me a moment to find it."

It was barely a moment or two before Steve's tape was replaced by the recording of the song.

The song was hauntingly beautiful. Eddie only singing vocals as rest of the band played.

It was raw and emotional.

Steve let the song play through before he signaled to play it again.

This time when Eddie begins to sing, Steve begins to play the violin. That beautifully sad sound he had played just to get it out of his head beginning to raise.

"Holy shit!" a new voice came through. It was their producer Kenny Fontaine. "You made that up?"

Steve shrugged. "Sometimes I get music in my head and I need to get out."

"Teach me to play the piano part!" Eddie blurts wrestling the mic away from Kenny. "So that when we play it live you can be on violin and I can sing and play."

Steve grinned. "I'd love that."

I love you.

****

They are playing it on the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson to promote the release of Blood-Red Skies.

The tension between Eddie and Steve is thick that Johnny calls them out on it.

And that's when Steve leaned over and kissed Eddie right on the lips.

Johnny is absolutely freaking out and in a good way.

They spend the rest of the interview tucked into each other's sides like puzzle pieces.

Even later, ten years down the line when Corroded Coffin is selling out stadiums, Eddie and Steve always end the song with a kiss.

****

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#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes

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steveharringtonat3am · 3 months

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Rhythmic romance | drummer!steve harrington x reader | 18+

summary: Robin's drummer friend is hot. What else were you supposed to do? [1.8k]

warnings: SMUT 18+, mentions of alcohol, fem!reader, oral (fem receiving), penetrative sex, mentions of birth control

✩┈┈∘*┈୨୧┈*∘┈┈✩

You did not want to be at a bar right now. You couldn’t wait to get home, get into bed, and crochet with a sitcom playing in the background until you eventually fell asleep. But it was your best friends’ birthday, so you sucked it up. She insisted on coming to see this band in the sketchiest dive bar you had ever stepped foot in. It was way too crowded and you regret not throwing her a party in your apartment. But from what you can hear, the music is pretty good.

“Here!” Robin hands you a glass of club soda. Being the designated driver was normally fine with you but the pounding music makes you envy her cosmopolitan. She begins pulling you closer to the band and you try to pretend your eardrums aren’t about to burst.

“It’s good!” You nod at her when she looks for your approval. She had mentioned something about knowing the lead singer and the drummer. How? You couldn’t remember the details as they hit a high note louder than you thought possible.

‘Corroded Coffin’ is etched on the front of the drums. It’s actually a pretty cool name. You’re about to ask Robin about it when your eyes drift further and your jaw nearly drops.

Holy shit, the drummer is hot.

So hot, you almost can’t think for a second. He’s sweating from the lights, tanned skin and muscle showing through his white t-shirt that’s almost translucent from the sweat. His gorgeous brown hair is all over the place as he tosses his head back to get some out of his eyes. He’s focused on the beat as his tongue pokes out of his mouth ever so slightly.

You could kill Robin for hiding him from you.

The set feels like it takes forever. Halfway through, Robin tugs you over to a booth where the volume has slightly decreased.

“You said you know the drummer?” You try not to be obvious but she sees right through you.

“You like him, don’t you? He’s a loser you know that right? Like a major loser.” She exaggerates in an obvious way that makes you smile.

“You should have seen this coming. He’s exactly my type.” You grin as you sip your drink and she sighs.

“I know but I hoped you would have higher standards.”

“You do realize he’s your friend right?” That is already a green flag in your mind. No way Robin would be friends with a douche so at the very least he’s nice.

“…Alright fine. Honestly, you two would probably get along well.” She shrugs. Before you can ask much about him though, your eyes lock with his.

“Hey, Rob!” The one with long dark hair greets her as you and the drummer simply look at each other. He’s even prettier up close and you really wanna reach over and fix his hair.

“Hi, Eddie! Hi doofus.” She pushes the drummer on the shoulder and he turns to smile at her.

“Hi, Robin. Did you like the set?” He asks as you pretend your drink is incredibly fascinating.

“Yeah! We both liked it.” She introduces you quickly, putting the name Steve to the face. He reaches out to shake your hand. The contact sends a shiver down your spine but luckily he doesn’t notice. They each slide into the booth, Steve next to you and Eddie next to Robin. You try not to focus too much on his thigh pressed against yours but the warmth of him mixed with his intoxicating cologne is almost too much for you.

The more you get to know Eddie and Steve, the more you understand why Robin was friends with them. Eddie was so funny and nice. Steve was perfect. Kind, has a good sense of humour and is just incredible.

It also helped that he had his hand on your bare thigh.

He had been laughing at something you said, pushing his hair back before letting his hand fall onto your skin, and rubbing it with his thumb. He doesn’t look at you as he does but you swear his smile grows when you tense a bit next to him.

When you feel like you can’t breathe anymore, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. Steve stands to let you out, eyes running over you as you walk past him.

The hallways leading to the bathrooms feel like a different, quieter world so you take a moment to yourself. You liked Steve. But you didn’t even know how he felt about you. And you didn’t want this to be some one-night hookup.

“Hey.” As if you summoned him, Steve is walking up to you. He stops in front of where you’re leaning against the wall, caging you in.

“Hi.” You smile at him and he leans in close. Maybe he’s doing it to hear you better but you like to think it’s just to get closer to you.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Just needed a break from all that, you know?” You fiddle with the hem of your skirt as he nods.

“Course. Though, I gotta say I liked having such a pretty face watching me play. Should come to more shows.” You can’t tell who’s moving, but he’s closer than he was before.

“You gonna give me a reason to?” The teasing smile sends him over the edge as he presses his lips against yours. You melt into it as he steps closer to press you against the wall. His hand cradles the back of your head as the kiss gets sloppier.

“C’mere.” He breaks the kiss for a second to tug you into the unisex bathroom, locking the door and immediately pressing you against it. You grin into the kiss as your fingers slip through his curly brown locks.

“Gonna let me fuck you in this bar? That desperate for me?” He teases in a way that soaks your panties more than you thought possible.

“L-like you don’t want it just as bad.” You pant, already chasing his lips again. He tugs you over to the sink and pushes you up so you’re sitting on the counter. He’s impossibly close now as your skirt rides up. You can feel how hard he is against your thigh but you’re too focused on his wandering hands, going from your hips to your sides to your ass.

The moan that slips out when he squeezes the flesh would be embarrassing if you weren’t so desperate for him. His hands slip to your thighs, rubbing up and down. His fingers brush the edges of the lace and he pulls away from your sloppy makeout to look into your eyes.

“Can I take these off?” His eyes are even prettier clouded with lust. You nod quickly in response and he wastes no time, sliding the fabric down your thighs and pushing it into his pocket. Your comment on that is stifled as he kisses your inner thigh. You spread your legs wider for him and try to ignore the feel of his smirk as his tongue runs up and down your slit.

“Come on Steve!” You whine as you tug his hair. He moans at the feeling and the vibration makes you squirm. Luckily, his grip is iron, so you don’t fall. He continues to lap at you and your orgasm starts to build. Unluckily, this is where he chooses to pull away and stand.

“N-no come on I was close!” You pout at his Cheshire grin.

“I know sweetheart but I need to fuck you. That alright with you?” One look at the bulge in his pants tells you all you need to know.

“Absolutely.” You tug at his belt, undoing it as quickly as possible. He helps with his jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers. His hard cock springs free to slap his stomach and your eyes nearly fall out of your head.

Gods, he’s huge.

“Condom or no?”

“I’m on the pill and…you seem clean.” You can’t think straight at this point. Your pussy aches for him to fuck you.

“I am. M’not gonna say no to fucking you raw. God you look hot.” You could orgasm right there but then he’s stepping closer and pressing his fat tip into you.

“Holy-” You grab onto his arm, pressing your face into his shoulder as he sinks in deeper. He hums in acknowledgement, easing in nice and slow.

By the time he’s balls deep, you might be seeing stars but you’d happily die in this moment.

“You alright, sweetheart?” He mumbles into your ear with a tenderness you don’t expect from a bar fuck. But you suppose Steve wasn’t just any bar fuck.

“Y-yeah. You can move.” You’re pressed together so tight you’re not sure where he ends and you begin.

As he starts to fuck you, you press a fist into your mouth to avoid moaning too loud. He quickly ups his pace, pounding into you like there’s no tomorrow. The sound of skin slapping is sinful but you can’t find it in yourself to care.

“Holy shit Steve just like that!” You moan into him, holding onto his arms for dear life. He’s making such pretty noises.

“Feel so-fuck-so good sweetheart.” He presses a sloppy kiss to your lips, moaning when you clench around him. Both your mouths and chins are covered in saliva but as his thumb runs over your clit, all thoughts go out the window.

“G-god I’m so close Steve.” You’re so close to the edge that it hurts.

“Go ahead, sweetheart.” He slams into you one more time and you’re seeing stars as pleasure overtakes you. It’s enough to make him cum too, pulling out to paint your thighs with his cum.

You both pant in silence for a second, your head resting against his chest. When you’ve both caught your breath you manage to look at him. He looks as if he’s just come off stage, only less sweaty. You can’t imagine you look any better but the look in his eyes almost convinces you otherwise.

“I-I’ll go out first.” He offers hands quickly fixing your hair into place before stepping away to help you down. Your legs are wobbly but you manage.

“Steve wh-” He cuts you off with a sweet kiss, with none of the lust from before but just as much passion.

“I’ll take you on a proper date soon okay? I promise.” He kisses your cheek once more before slipping out the door. You rest against the cold porcelain as you mull over what just happened.

You’re gonna have to get Robin one hell of a birthday gift.

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wynnyfryd · 7 months

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Trailer park Steve AU part 17

part 1 | part 16 | ao3

Heat rolls through Steve’s gut; low and quick, a vicious flare, and then he coughs and looks away. “Jesus, man," he splutters, "learn to take a joke.”

“Mmm-hm.” Eddie's smug smirk spreads wide, grows teeth; gotcha bitch, and Steve’s about to tell him to fuck off when he claps his hands to his thighs and abruptly stands up. Does a big stretch, swinging his arms out side to side, reaching overhead until his back makes a noise like a twisted sheet of bubble wrap.

“Holy shit!” Steve frowns. “You’re gonna break your spine.”

Eddie gives him a flippant smile. “That's the idea. Anyway...” He pretzels himself up again, groaning as his neck and shoulders pop. “Seeing as we’re trapped in here for the foreseeable future, you wanna do what the little psychos asked? Play twenty questions or have a heart-to-heart or whatever?”

“Seriously? And just give them what they want?”

Eddie shrugs. “Seems like the fastest way out of here, so yeah.”

“We don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

“Please. You negotiate with them all the time." He folds forward at the hips, looking at Steve upside down between his legs, and twists a curl around his pinky. "Those kids have you wrapped around their grubby little fingers."

"They do not!"

"They totally do. Besides," he swings back upright, "I’ll negotiate with anyone if it gets me back home to my girl.”

"Oh." Steve stumbles at that. "Didn't know you had a girlfriend.”

Eddie laughs big and bright, shaking his hair all over the place. “Yeah, Harrington, I have a girlfriend. You're funny. Y'know, Henderson could have saved us a lot of time here if he'd just told me you were fun—”

“Okay, then who’s your girl?” Steve interrupts with a huff, because Eddie’s just hopping around in circles while he laughs like Steve's a fucking moron for making a totally reasonable assumption, and he doesn't understand what's so goddamn funny about it.

“My girl, Harrington,” he all but coos when he collects himself, “is my guitar.” He bites his lip and mimes playing a riff; Steve doesn’t know shit about guitar, but he knows that Eddie’s fingers are quick, nimble and impressive as they jitter through the air. “We’ve got a show this weekend. Like, a real one this time, not just playing to three drunks at the Hideout.”

“Cool,” Steve says, looking away from his rings. “Congrats, man. You any good?”

“You could say that.” Eddie’s mouth goes smug and pleased, genuine pride shining in his big eyes when he rocks back on his heels. “The frat that booked us seems to think so, anyway.”

“Oh, shit!" Now Steve's impressed, because it's the weekend before Halloween, and that means, "College costume party.”

“Of course you’d be excited about that.”

“Hey, great place to get laid,” Steve shrugs.

Eddie chokes on his own spit. “You’re kind of a slut, you know that?”

“Rude,” Steve says mildly. He's not a slut; he's an opportunist.

The ground's starting to hurt his ass, so he stands up to join Eddie's impromptu yoga session. Eddie leans a hip against the workbench, folding his arms over his chest and giving Steve room to move.

His eyes flit to his hemline when it rides up on a stretch. "Would you..." he clears his throat. "Would you want to come?"

"Huh?" Steve twists around.

"To the show," Eddie adds, ducking his head to hide his face behind his hair. "You'd have to cram into the back with Frankie and the drum kit, but uh..."

Steve lets himself picture it for a moment, some alternate dimension where he's allowed to say yes: the winding highway to Indy, a van full of dudes cracking jokes and fighting over who gets to pick the music next, losing himself in the thrum of a crowd while he drinks and dances and watches Eddie on stage.

His throat feels tight, suddenly. He reaches for the flask and takes another sip of whiskey. "Don't all your bandmates hate me?"

"I mean... not any more than I do." Eddie's answer is quiet, his eyes swimming with candlelight; Steve doesn't know when they moved closer, when a hush settled over the room, but it feels like...

"Yeah?" he hedges, his voice barely above a whisper. Then he steps out onto the ledge; icy cliffside, slippery holds. The mountains are so much scarier than the deep sea. "And how... How much is that?"

His pulse kicks in his chest. Echoes down to his wrist, a nervous current beneath his skin. Eddie's eyes are so soft. Big and brown and dark. Dark like the deep woods; endless; sort of mesmerizing.

"Steve, I—"

The cellar doors shriek on their hinges.

—

part 18

part of the tag list below the cut comment if you want to be added (comment twice if you wanna be my tag manager lol i’m dyin)

@heartsong18 @hellion-child @hiimlevi @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @jaytriesstuff @littlebluejane @lololol-1234 @marklee-blackmore @melonmochi @messrs-weasley @mrsjellymunson @mugloversonly @nburkhardt @nerdyglassescheeseychick @noodle-shenaniganery @notsopersonalcharlie @novelnovella @nuggies4life @pending-dope-username @perseus-notjackson @ppunkpuppyy @questionablequeeries @remosdeerica @runninriot @sadcanadianwinter @shamelesspatrolshepherdcowboy @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutforcoffein @solalasoforth @spookednsaucy @steddieas-shegoes @steddie-island @stevesbipanic @steves-strapcollection @taleah-bonnick @teatimeeverybody @th30ra3k3n @thealwithnoname @thespaceantwhowrites @thestarslittleking @thesuninyaface @trensu @violetsteve @wormdebut @yourmom-isgay @zoeweee @zombiecreatures

#trailer park steve au #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #my writing #my fic

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choke-me-joey · 1 year

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Eddie Munson x fem metalhead cheerleader

Summary: Based on this - how Eddie met his not so typical cheerleader girlfriend and a little exploration of their relationship.

Content warning: 18+ content minors DNI, smoking, underage drinking, drug use, swearing, flirting, smut.

AN: there is a scene in this based on a ✨️video✨️ i had sent to me by a beautiful anon and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. If you want the link you can find it on my page or message me and I'll try to send it!

📢 TAG LIST IS NOW FULL 📢

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

Chapter 4

The following Tuesday, after practice and your homework, you'd driven over to The Hideout to see the famous Corroded Coffin play to their crowd of regular drunks. You parked your car in the lot, getting out and straightening out your cropped Iron Maiden shirt. You'd paired it with some shorts and fishnets, as well as your Docs and your jacket which, courtesy of Eddie, now had a WASP pin resting proudly on the lapel.

You made your way into the, quite honestly, dump of a bar, impressed that you didn't even need a fake ID to get in. You grinned when you saw Corroded Coffin setting up on the small stage and made a beeline for your friends and your....Eddie.

"What's up, rockstars?" You smile, giving Eddie a cheeky pinch to the butt as he was bent over with his back to you sorting out his peddle. He angled his head to look at you, and nearly keeled over at the sight of your outfit. He recovered, standing up to hug you.

"Now this just isn't fair, sweetheart, gonna be playing our set with a fucking boner," he groans into you ear, making you giggle. He subtly kissed your head.

"Holy shit you actually came!" Gareth said, grinning at you from behind his drum kit. "Eddie said you might not make it because of practice."

"Like I'd miss the infamous Corroded Coffin live in concert," you gesture to the homemade banner behind them. "I'm excited!"

"You're probably the only one in the audience who is," Jeff laughs, glancing over the few people who had come to the bar to watch them play.

"Well, just remember who your biggest fan was in the early days, yeah?"

"Of course, sweetheart," Eddie winks at you and you have to wrestle down the urge to kiss him, not knowing how he felt about your...whatever this was between you being made super public yet. You instead settle on shooting him a wink and going to get yourself a drink whilst they finished setting up, patiently waiting for their set to start.

You were surprised when the bartender handed you a beer, apparently Eddie had sorted you with a drink before you'd gotten there, and again that meant nobody was checking your ID. You said nothing, taking your beer and sitting at a table close to the stage where you had a good view and Eddie could definitely see you.

The band start their set and you're completely blown away. Not only are they actually pretty damn good, the way Eddie carries himself on stage is incredible. He's confident, charismatic, nothing new there, but he eludes this sexy rockstar attitude that makes your pussy clench as you watch him. He plays with an energy that should be for 80,000 people not just 0.01% of that.

You watch his skilled fingers running up and down the frets, effortlessly playing chords without even glancing down. And when he sang, god your heart skipped a beat. His voice was the perfect mix of soft melodic singing and raw yells and shouts. They played a mix of covers and their own songs, their musical influences clear in those original pieces. Your favourite so far had been their rendition of Paranoid by Black Sabbath, and a song called Shallow Grave of their own. You had screamed and shouted and applauded, probably too enthusiastically really, but you didn't care. They were good, and Eddie was hot.

As the notes of another original song, Strangers in the Dark, came to an end, Eddie spoke into the microphone.

"We're going to change things up a little bit now folks, with a new cover dedicated to a very special person who happens to be our number one fan. This one's for you, airhead." He shot you a smirk and you grinned back at him, your cheeks flushing. "Sing along if you know it, maybe even dance a little if you're drunk enough."

The opening notes of Edge of Seventeen by Stevie Nicks, but with a Corroded Coffin touch, began to play and your jaw dropped. You fucking loved this song, and your mind and heart race when you remember you had told Eddie that, probably about 3 weeks ago when you'd first started speaking properly, only mentioned it briefly when he'd seen the tape of Bella Donna sticking out of your bag.

He'd...learnt this, for you? Made his band learn this for you without even knowing if you'd ever come to one of his shows?

It's a good thing you were sat down because your knees felt stupidly weak.

"Just like the white wing dove, sings a song sounds like she's singing, ooh, ooh, ooh," Eddie croons; his voice could have brought tears to your eyes. He wasn't playing guitar for this, cupping the mic in his hands in a way that should have been illegal.

You sit in your seat, singing along, watching as a few drunks get up to dance, mostly middle aged women who look as if Stevie Nicks is their lord and saviour.

"Come on honey, your boyfriend is singing this for you! You gotta dance!" One of the Stevie-ites grabs your hand and tries to pull you up to dance.

"Oh, I cant-" you start, feeling a little embarassed. Ridiculous really, seeing as you were in front of two entire high schools nearly every week dancing and cartwheeling and splitting. Why the fuck was dancing in front of Eddie making you shy?!

You catch Eddie's eye as you're dragged onto the small dance area in front of the stage, the woman lets go of your hand to do her own Stevie style twirl, and you laugh, doing the same when she encourages you to do so. You glance up at Eddie and he grins back at you, still singing away as he pulls you up onto the small stage, twirling you around. You stay next to him, wrapped in his arms as the band finishes the song. When the last note plays, Eddie grabs you and you kisses you hard on the lips and you wrap your arms around his neck, the small crowd whooping and cat calling as you break apart, both of you panting and grinning like fools.

"You're amazing," Eddie says breathlessly, looking into your eyes.

"Me?! I'm not the one who just turned Stevie Nicks into a bad ass metal anthem! You gotta record that, you...you're incredible!" You pant, your face starting to hurt with how much you're smiling. You run one finger down his chest whilst looking up at him through your lashes. "How much longer is the set, rock star?"

Eddie swallows hard.

"Uh, th-three songs."

"Perfect, I'll be waiting by your van when you've packed up." You shoot him a sexy smirk, pecking his lips once more and hopping off the stage to watch the rest of the set.

True to your words you were waiting, leant up against the side of Eddie's van as he finished loading up his equipment.

"So, I've been thinking, that bed you've got in there?" You gesture to the back of the van. "Super fucking comfortable, perfect for laying down after a successful show, don't you think?"

"While every fibre of my being is going to hate me for saying this, Y/N-"

"Who said anything about sex?" You cut him off and he looks at you, confusion etched on his face. "Just wanna show you how appreciative I am that you learned a song for me, very cute by the way."

"Well, I have been known to be pretty cute," Eddie grins, letting you pull him into the back of the van, kicking the door shut. He grunts, letting out a breathless laugh as you push him onto his back and straddle him, pushing his shirt up his stomach. "Hey, you know you don't have to do anything you don't want to, right?"

"What about if I want to?" You smile, rocking your hips experimentally against him. Eddie groans, fingers biting into your hips. You lean down and kiss him, tongue immediately finding his. Eddie's hands travel from your hips to your ass, squeezing it softly at first, then harder as your kisses grows deeper and more desperate. You pull away from the kiss, sitting back on your heels and your hands hover over his belt buckle. "Can I?"

"Yeah, yes, shit, you can do anything you want to me right now, sweetheart." Eddie groans as you undo his belt, your hand ghosting over the bulge in his jeans. Once his jeans are also undone, he helps you by lifting his hips so you can pull his jeans and boxers down to his mid thigh. You can't help the gasp that leaves your mouth as his cock springs free, slapping his lower stomach.

"Holy...what the fuck, Eddie?!" You laugh, unable to process what you're seeing. He's big. And not just big, but thick too. Uncut, with a delicious thick vein running along the underside of his cock. His balls are - is it weird to say perfect?- big and round and your mouth salivates at the sight. Would you even be able to wrap your hand around him? Swallow him down? Would your cunt stretch enough to accommodate him? Your brain buzzed with arousal.

"Not really something I go around showing off," Eddie chuckles, hissing as you attempt to wrap your hand around him, slowly stroking him. You pull back his foreskin to expose the head of his cock, the same beautiful shade of reddy purple as his lips, and you watch in fascination as a small bead of precum blurts out and over your fingers. "Shit, Y/N, your hand feels so fucking good."

"I haven't even done anything yet," you giggle, moving a tiny bit faster, your other hand gently cupping his balls. You make sure he's looking at you before you let a glob of spit fall from your mouth onto the head of his cock, using it to lube his shaft for your hand to glide easier along it. Eddie fucking whimpers, whimpers, at that, his head dropping back onto the pillow beneath him.

"Fuck, babe, you're fucking...you're a dream."

"A wet one, I hope?"

"You're...everything. God the amount of times I've thought about this, about you...Jesus, how are you fucking real?" Eddie sighs as you work your hand over his cock faster, the mix of your spit and his precum making it easier. "Can I...fuck, can you take your shirt off? And...and put my jacket on?"

He prayed silently that you'd agree, it was all he'd been able to think about for about 3 weeks. You smile, nodding, taking off your shirt. Eddie almost blows his load there and then. Not only were you braless, but you also had your fucking nipples pierced, the two silver bars winking at him in the dim lights streaming in from the car park. You send him a knowing smirk briefly letting go of his cock to grab his previously discarded jacket and slip your arms into it, the leather cool and somewhat a little sticky against your damp skin.

"How do I look?" Your voice is low and sultry, laced with arousal. The throb between your legs is almost unbearable now, and you grind your crotch against his leg for some relief.

"Like every wet dream I've had since I was 13," Eddie groans as you spit on his cock again. "Shit, never thought you'd be so..."

"So what?" You challenge with a smirk, one eyebrow cocked as you continue to jerk him off.

"Jesus, so fucking...filthy." Eddie gasps as you run your other thumb over the slit of his cock, gathering some precum on the digit and sucking it into your mouth. You exaggerate a moan, this was purely for him right now but he did taste really fucking good. "Shit, gonna cum soon, don't stop baby."

"Not going to Eds, want you to make a mess all over me." You push the jacket off of your tits so he can clearly see them. Your free hand pinches one of your nipples, making you moan and grind down onto him again, a whimper leaving your mouth.

"Jesus fuck!" Eddie grunts, his cock twitching in your hand as he cums, streaking your tits, stomach and a little bit of his own jacket with thick white ropes. You stroke him through it, letting go of his thick cock when he starts to hiss in discomfort. "Fuck, princess, easy, easy," he lets a breathless laugh as you scoop up some of his cum off your tits with your finger, popping it into your mouth and sucking it off. "Jesus H Christ."

"I prefer Y/N." You grin, letting out a squeal as Eddie pins you down onto the floor of the van, kissing you hard. His hand wanders to the button of your shorts. "Hey, don't worry about me, handsome. This was all for you."

"You sure? I want to." Eddie's eyes flick to yours and you smile.

"I know, and believe me I really want you to but I have to get home, school night and all that." You sigh and Eddie groans, dropping his head to your shoulder. "My fingers will just have to do tonight."

Eddie groans even louder.

"Shit, Y/N, that isn't fair."

"Relax, Eds, my parents are away this weekend, so I'll have that big, empty house all to myself. You wanna come over and protect poor little old me?" You put on a fake pout. Eddie smirks.

"And by protect you mean-"

"Fuck my brains out until I can't fucking walk and make me scream so loud the neighbours will know your name? Yeah, that's what I meant." You giggle, pecking his lips softly.

"Oh, I'll be there baby, I'll protect you so hard, don't you worry."

Taglist:

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#iswaw #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie smut #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things eddie munson #eddie munson x you #stranger things smut

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fayes-fics · 8 months

Note

hello!! can I please get a drabble that takes place in the 70s with artist boho slut benedict x reader? thank you 🙈

Kinktober: Benedict + Chem / High Sex

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Paring: Benedict Bridgeton x fem!reader, Modern 1970s AU

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, use of recreational drugs, sexual acts while high/under the influence, 69 position, oral sex (m to f, f to m) blowjob and cunnilingus, facesitting, vaginal fingering, deepthroat.

Author’s note: hi Nonny. Well, this request immediately made me think of boho hippy artist Ben selling his art at a music festival and voila, a whole AU was born for me. Honestly, this universe was so fun I might write more in the future 😁 Anyway, I hope you enjoy! 🧡

You have a cock in your mouth when the drug kicks in. A corkscrew of colour swimming before your eyes has you pausing to make a noise of surprise, not just because of the fantastic suction around your clit.

“Holy shit….” you mumble, pulling up to take a breather.

“It kicked in, huh?” Benedict smirks as you look down between your legs to his handsome face.

“Yeah… fuckkkkk,” you stutter, unmoored.

This wasn't how you envisioned this music festival going, but damn, if you aren't having the time of your life.

Just an hour ago, you arrived as the sun set, still yet to find your friends, when you stumbled upon a stall selling captivating artwork. You felt utterly compelled to purchase a piece, even before you saw the beautiful, square-jawed, blue-eyed, topless man selling it.

Daisy chains looped into his wavy chestnut locks, flared jeans hanging dangerously low over an Adonis belt—a Grecian statue made flesh. By the time he informed you that he was indeed the artist and, after a few drinks, offered you a tab of something to “start your festival right”, you were already his.

And so here you now, in the back of his VW bus, windows concealed by vibrant tie-dyed fabrics, chemicals coursing in your bloodstream as you bring each other pleasure. Sitting naked upon his face, draped over his warm body, his cock in your mouth. A circuit of decadent, lush delight. And now….

Now, every feeling is heightened.

You dive back onto him with something approaching ferocity, savouring his silken but steely cock passing through your lips, each contour sparking synesthesia behind your eyelids. When his tongue ploughs deep into your pussy it ripples up your insides into your belly, settling as a fire behind your ribs. And when he sucks your clit, it’s as if you can trace the signal racing to your brain from those millions of afferent nerve endings.

Strains of music from the distant soundstage seep through the popped skylight above as his long, artistic fingers swirl patterns on the notches of your spine. His sinewy arms wrapped tight around your hips, encouraging you to use his face and tongue as if he were a vessel built purely for your enjoyment.

And fuck if he isn't—he tastes, embodies, and imbues hedonism. His skin is smooth and smells of citrus, earthy bark and charcoal. His cock is perfect, a delight that fills your mouth and makes your bones liquefy at the idea he might fuck you.

You spiral your tongue around his head in a tempo to match the tattoo his drums over your clit, all your concentration pinpointed on these mirrored movements, sinful unhurried sensualism. Luxuriating as if you have hours to spend together, with no destination in mind other than a memorable experience.

When he buries two fingers inside you, your cry muffled around his cock, you can feel his smirk in the stubble abraiding your labia. Well, if he wants to notch things a little higher….

Mind looping with rainbows, you take a deep breath and sink until his cock is in your throat. The feral sound he makes hot against your clit like another drug you could get addicted to. He groans your praises, a hand straying into your hair to hold your head down, his plush lips snagging your engorged pearl as you hold still, images of colourful dancing bears before your eyes, each bearing his face contorted with ecstasy. Something about him makes you want to be the best he has ever had. Make him not want to leave your side; make him not want to get dressed ever again; just spend eternity entwined in your body.

You pull up, and then after a few deep sucking draws that have him groaning and begging, you sink down again, fighting the need to breathe, captivated by each novel new image your mind supplies. All the while, he tries to match you, lashing your clit, fingers drumming your g spot as the other wraps your ponytail around his fist. When you whimper around him, his sac tightens against your nose.

“Fuck, I'm going to come,” he growls in warning, yet still you stay, knowing what is coming and craving it.

A pulse runs the length of his cock, and then you feel it, a thick salty rope shooting right into your throast that tastes like victory and desire. You suck and swallow all you can as you pull up, needing to breathe, and as he sings your praises, you nuzzle him, licking him clean as if it was the tastiest treat in the world.

“Your turn,” his warning glittering and smokey with promise.

It's then you experience your first orgasm high on drugs. Your body on fire as he expertly suckles, swirls, and even bites your swollen, soaked flesh, fingers buried deep in your leaking pussy, like he lives only for your nectar and rapture.

“You taste like heaven,” he groans, as you keep kissing his cock while it softens, something for you to wrap your lips around, to muffle your screams as he pushes you towards heights you have never scaled. Hyperaware of everything: sounds, smells, his touch, the sight of him pinned under you, so very eager to please. You reach out and grab his hand, lacing your fingers together tightly just as you tumble over the edge.

Fireworks, lightning, strobe lights, all multicoloured, going off in your mind as you float high above as if an untethered balloon, at once a million miles away and yet also rooted so deep in your body, feeling everything in every nerve, every cell, every synapse fire.

He moves behind you as you collapse to one side, breathlessly panting, mind adrift, curling up almost foetal, overloaded by everything. Wrapping his warm body like a protective shell around you, his nose buried in your hair, his arms caging you, his legs bracketing yours.

“That was transcendent. Truly magical,” he murmurs, dazed, and you have to agree.

No taglist as these drabbles are short

#kinktober 2023 #kinktober #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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unholyverse · 9 months

Text

waterparks // marvin magazine issue #10

(full transcript under the cut)

Waterparks

WORDS by HOLLY SOLEM

PHOTOGRAPHY by DANIEL PRACOPCYK

Waterparks are places you go for fun; both pools and slides and the gloriously buzzy, pop punk band featuring members Geoff Wigington (lead guitar), Otto Wood (drums), and singer/guitarist Awsten Knight, whose neon energy matches his hair. Their music leads you down sonic chutes and up rainbow ladders with four albums, countless tours, millions of listeners and a recent signing with Fueled By Ramen, the label under which they are about to drop their highly anticipated 5th studio album. MARVIN had the good fortune of catching up with Knight—who is busy prepping for a European tour, a US tour and the release of the band's new album—to talk about all that goes into creating the bubbly world of Waterparks.

The new album titled Intellectual Property features eleven legit bangers filled with anthemic choruses. psychedelic experimentation and hooky melodies all polished to a sheen. There are hints of megalithic rock bands like Muse, inspiration from The Beach Boys and the pop punk sounds we have come to expect. But as for the "pop" part, this record goes in hard with collaborations with the likes of blackbear and songwriter/producer Julian Bunetta.

I love pop music and we got an offer to write with this dude, Julian, who has credits on 95% of One Direction's discography. I fucking love One Direction. I don't want to be dramatic but let's say I've got a top 60 favorite songs, I think four or five are One Direction songs. And Julian's written on all of them. I was just like, 'I want to do what I do but with him too.' And then I made "FUNERAL GREY", "BRAINWASHED", and "FUCK ABOUT IT", with him.

For this album, the band brought in more outside alliances than on previous albums, with Knight saying. "I think I was more open to [collaborations] on this album. Other people's opinions and thoughts and stuff like that. Normally, I don't really love writing with people that I don't know very well because it can feel very sterile. You walk in and they're like, 'what do you want to write about? You're like, 'oh fuck'—because it's a personal thing." And when it comes to getting personal, Knight is also realizing that to his surprise, the more personal he gets-the more vulnerable lyrically—the more universal the message.

I feel like I used to be kind of freaked out by [vulnerability], especially earlier, on album one. I was really nervous about it and it sounds so lame in retrospect but I didn't even want to do any acoustic songs. I liked burying myself a lit- tle bit behind a big instrumental. [The song] "21 Questions" for example. I sent that along with all the other demos to Benji because I wanted his opinion and he was like, 'this is one of the best ones.' Those wind up being the favorites, which seems counterproductive because songs are supposed to be relatable. And I never feel like I'm being relatable but I try to be less selfish with the writing. I want this to be for someone else.

When Knight refers to "Benji" he is talking about Benji Madden, one half of legendary pop punk duo Good Charlotte. Benji, along with his brother and bandmate Joel, manage Waterparks after discovering them on YouTube and DM'ing them on Twitter back in 2015. Knight received the news of the Maddens' invitation to fly to LA for a meeting while working as a babysitter who gave guitar lessons.

I called the guys and we're like, 'holy shit.' So we all went and bought swimsuits because…California. And yeah, that was it. After we met them, we went back to our hotel and were just like, 'what is happening? A week ago we were still passing out flyers outside of other people's shows. And we're right here, right now. This is the weirdest shit.'

A literal dream-come-true for Knight and the band, who eventually would make the move to LA from Houston while missing its Tex-Mex and Thai food, and of course, his family. But when it comes to the weather, he's all about California. He doesn't even mind the earthquakes. He was in a rooftop hot tub during one and actually found it rather exciting. For a man who has toured the world, there's a bright-eyed innocence and almost childlike wonder to him. His seeming lack of cynicism is as refreshing as freshly fallen snow which he admits he only saw for the first time not that long ago. But now, Knight talks about having stress dreams as he and the band get ready to embark on a European leg, followed by an extensive US tour.

Here's the thing, I like to play shows and I like to meet people. The other 22 hours of the day, I like having my space. I'm pretty particular, you know what I mean? I like my zone where I can sit and just do stuff. You go from peace and quiet and doing what you want all the time to sharing a small living space and a bus with twelve people. It's basically having twelve people in your living room for two months. And you're just like, 'ah, but the shows are great' as long as the shows are fun and everyone is having a great time, that makes it worth it to me.

He's also superstitious. Around his apartment there are crystals, there are obsidian and selenite wands in front of all the mirrors. He has a healer-type person come in and energetically clear his space, insisting he throw away objects that may have "dark entities" attached. "I'm luckier than people I know. They're like, 'why is the light always turning green when you go to it? Why do you always get the front spot at the store?' I'm like, it's because I don't split the pole, you know? Can't split a pole when you're walking. There's a bunch of superstitions. But I follow them and I'm crazy lucky."

In addition to music, he recently penned a well-received book of personal essays called, You'd Be Paranoid Too (If Everyone Was Out to Get You). He plans to write a novel next and has also started a clothing line called HiiDef. that fabricates small collections that sell out fast. His enthusiasm for the line is on par with music. "If everybody made the songs that I wanted to hear, I wouldn't have to do this. The same thing applies with clothing." Passion abound, he is all smiles when discussing plans for the future of Waterparks.

How do I get to the fucking moon? I think anyone who hears this album is going to love it. Cause I think it's incredible. I'm looking at the songs right now. I'm just like, 'man, straight slappers.' Even the last song, which I know wouldn't be a single or anything-that's probably one of the best accomplishments of a song that we've ever been able to pull off. I see this album in plaques on the wall. All right, we're manifesting now.

He names his goals out loud, as one is meant to do when calling them in, mentioning things like how much he'd like to play the Redding and Leeds Festivals at sunset. Then he pulls up the Waterparks US tour schedule online while musing, "I want one of those big "Sold Out" things across all the dates. It's getting there dude. Yeah, actually, it's going crazy right now." In real time, he seems to discover that the banners that cross nearly all of the show dates do indeed read, "Sold Out". And then it's clear. Awsten Knight is lucky. But luck is really about preparation meeting opportunities and he has definitely shown up to the game prolific and prepared. Five albums in, it's clear that Knight and Waterparks have only just begun.

@waterparks

#i scanned this big ass magazine and photoshopped it back together after i found out you could buy this digitally so you better reblog #awsten knight #otto wood #geoff wigington #waterparks #i.zip #anyways story time #only reason i bought this is bc i saw this at barnes and noble at the mall and it was wayyy cheaper than if i got a physical online #$25 instore vs $30 online + $20 shipping which is INSANE but the fact that this is the size of my torso is even more insane #it's just some puff piece like the rest of the shit you'd expect from a rich people magazine that brands itself as punk #and that josh madden shilled his way into again lol

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fleet-of-fiction · 4 months

Text

Jake Kiszka // Female Narrator

Part Six

After a blinding light eradicates mankind, you're left in a desolate and empty world. A year of solitude eliminates all belief that anyone else was left behind. Until a chance encounter on the side of the road. Jake is injured and fighting for his life, but his presence brings a renewed sense of hope. Touch starved and lonely, you need him. And undoubtedly, he needs you too.

A/N: This particular chapter includes themes of extremely dark thoughts. Including thoughts of ending life. This is integral for the storyline. Does not reflect the writers personal thoughts or feelings towards triggering potential readers as it is not their intention to do so. So please, proceed with caution, as always. And if you don't wish to read such themes please do not read this chapter.

"It would be the last man on earth that would end up being mine..."

Explicit sexual content Sex (penetrative & oral) /Foreplay /Blood / Injury / Hunting. / Intense emotions / Death.

Day 470 ~ Jake

She looked so peaceful. Her lips were slightly parted and her eyes were rolling around behind closed lids. And even though I wondered what she was dreaming about, I didn't dare wake her. There was just something unsettling about trying to sleep in other people's houses and I had never slept well a single night until I found her.

I saw no reason to wake her just to tell her I was going back to the music room. I figured she would hear me as soon as dawn broke and come looking for me. Now that I'd picked up a guitar again, it was like I was being called to arms. The need to play was a welcome and not a melancholy reminder anymore.

In the early hours of morning it still felt as if the world was asleep. That everyone was still tucked up in their beds, just a few hours away from alarm clocks going off and coffee pots being switched on. It was easy to forget at this time, easy to pretend that we were the only ones left. I sometimes liked to wake up early just to catch that feeling.

It was still dark outside as I set myself up on one of the amps. I turned the volume right down and closed the door. Strumming a few notes but not playing anything in particular. I couldn't set myself to something I'd already played, and was still figuring out how to create something now on my own. It still felt strange not having Josh stood there telling me it needed to be a little faster or slower. Or Sam picking which one of us he was going to agree with that day, my heart sinking if he'd chosen Josh. Our mediator sitting behind his drums diligently tapping away if the conversation got a little too heated. I hadn't really given much thought to how much I missed Danny. But now that I was staring at the old drum kit by the window, I realised that I did miss him.

I wasn't really paying attention to the window behind. Or the pair of eyes watching me. My mind was stepping back in time, trying to think of old riffs that I'd abandoned. It wasn't until they moved that I almost dropped the guitar straight onto my foot. Something I'd never done before.

"Holy shit!!!" I cursed, reeling back as the eyes reflected in the light from inside the house.

I couldn't see much, other than a pair of roving circles peering in. I could feel my breath catch in my chest, panic begin to rise. I knew it wasn't human by the way it moved, only a foot or so off the ground and far too prowl- like to belong to any man or woman.

"What the fuck are you?" I wondered aloud, slowly inching towards the glass as if it could somehow reach me through it.

My heart was pumping blood so quickly around my body that I dizzied as I stood. Terrified that whatever it was could somehow get inside and get to Amelia before I could. As I drew closer I could hear the sound of a pitiful whine over the roar of the breeze. And although it was dark, and the reflection of the room was all I could see, the sound reminded me of something I'd heard before.

"Are you hurt?" I asked, switching off the lamp so that I could better see through the dark, the eyes which watched me immediately fading into the morning pitch black.

How many times had I been foolish in my life? When I thought about it, I could raise a nostalgic smile at the boy who had gone into dive bars before he was old enough to drink in them and played guitar while fights broke out around him. And I could consider all the times I'd cliff jumped into abandoned quarries and somehow crawled back out with my life intact. All the times I'd made myself look stupid in front of girls I liked. Done something or said something to make them think I was an idiot. Or not said something at all, the most foolish thing I could do.

Perhaps none of it was quite as thoughtless as what I did that morning. I checked on Amelia before I grabbed my jacket and went outside. She was still right where I left her, unmoved. I had thought that I might take a walk around the perimeter of the house. See if the creature was still out there.

I didn't think what would happen, could happen. Of all the risks I'd taken in my life, I never envisioned that I'd end up where I did. It was still a little cold as I buttoned up. I could see my breath as the light began to creep in from behind clouds. The wind was enough to move my hair, but moved only gently through the tree's above. A soft white noise soundtracked my steps as I traversed around the heavy woodland surrounding the house.

Until I found myself at the back yard. Staring at the window to the room where I'd just been playing guitar. Not a soul in sight.

"I'll be damned." I whispered to myself, certain that I'd find something.

I knew that what I'd seen I couldn't have imagined. I'd tripped so many times before, I knew the difference between what was real and imagined. I started moving towards the glass, watching my own reflection approach until I could clearly see the guitar right where I had almost dropped it onto my foot.

Dumbfounded. A little spooked, even. I could feel the hairs on my forearms prickle.

"I know there's something out here." I told myself.

Almost as if I was inviting it, I could feel something at my back. I slowly turned. Fear and foolishness gripping me by the throat. I backed up against the window pane. Not one set of eyes, but several stepped out from behind the trees. And I knew I was cornered.

"Clever." I remarked under my breath. "You weren't hurt at all, were you?"

I wondered if they smelled my fear. If they could hear the rush of blood through my veins as my heart pumped faster. There was nowhere for me to run. I scanned across every possible route and all of them were guarded closely by snarling teeth and renegade desires to feed.

If this was how I met my end all I could think of was Amelia. Sleeping soundly, lost in dreams only to wake to find that I was no longer there. I could feel the raging heart in my chest break as I imagined her finding them gnawing away at my corpse. Terrified that I wouldn't be enough to fill their bellies, and that they'd lure her out to die too.

Once they'd been loyal pets. Wearing collars and leashes. They would come when their masters called and chase balls when they were thrown. Settle in front of warm fireplaces and have their bellies rubbed if they rolled over. I could see it in their eyes. The pack mentality that had been suppressed for generations, the wolves in their blood howling to return to their most basic of natures. They were evolving. Growing tactful in their hunt. Luring out their prey under false pretences.

"Easy, now." I said, holding flat palms in front of me, wondering if they would respond to hearing commands they might have forgotten. "Good dogs. Sit...Stay..."

The dog that had appeared to me first cocked his head to the side a little. He was a big, imposing Shepherd breed. With a long nose and a set of sharp teeth on display. His hair was all matted underneath, an old wound still healing on his front leg. None of the dogs sat at my command. I had no control.

"No!" I warned bluntly, "There's a good boy now, Sit!"

It was as if they knew the words but couldn't recall what they meant. Standing in a semi-circle against me. I could see the smaller dogs behind, a counter-pack of terriers and spaniels. It was as if they knew the bigger dogs would have the most impact and had chosen their place in the flanks. To my left was a jet black Dobermann, clipped ears pinned back as it waited for instruction. To my right was a blue eyed Husky with the fairest white mane. Beautiful, if it weren't threatening to tear me limb from limb. And directly in front was my adversary. The Shepherd.

"I know you're hungry." I reasoned, some irrational part of my brain convinced somehow that they would understand. "I can help you, we can find food together. Just don't hurt me."

I wondered why they hesitated. If their hunger was so absolute why didn't they attack on sight? What were they waiting for? They knew I couldn't run. Were they enjoying this? Taking delight in their hunt? What could have possibly made them approach like this, without taking me down in one mass attack?

"Oh my god."

I felt my stomach turn as the penny dropped. I had been lured out there. I was just a pawn in their attempts to lure more food out. There wasn't enough meat on my bones to feed them all. And they knew that.

"You can't have her." I promised, "So, you're just going to have to feast on me."

I'd barely considered what had happened to the dogs that were left behind. I'd crossed paths with a few of them during my time on the road. Some of them would regard me, but rarely approach. Lost in their own wondering of where their beloved people had gone. Some would approach me cautiously, in the endless pursuit of food. But not like this. This was calculated. Organised.

"Jake?!"

Her voice called out from the distance. I could see their ears turn. Saliva dripping from their jowls.

"Please, Jake!!!" She screamed, tortured by my unexplained absence.

Every instinct in me had to fight not to call back. Her begging cries called out to me like a beacon alighted on the mountainside. It was my duty to respond, to let her know that I was still here.

"You keep your eyes on me, you hear?"

I'd never wanted anything more than to see her turn that corner and know that I would never willingly choose to leave her. But if she did, she courted death. Did I want her to live in a world without me? Better to have thought I had vanished than died.

Somehow I found the courage to run. And to my utter horror and relief, they followed.

Day 473 ~ Amelia

I could hear the bird song in the morning light. Another day to exist in a place where once he had. It didn't feel like it had the first time, when everyone else had disappeared. This was more crucifying than anything I could have ever endured before. This wasn't just figuring out how to live on my own, this was figuring out how to do it knowing that I had loved someone else so deeply I wanted only to die.

I walked back to the cabin without him. The acoustic guitar he had played Broken Bells on for me tucked beneath my arm as I made the journey alone. What had begun as such a wholesome idea, ended with me losing him. And I regretted the choice to take him up to that forsaken house. Never had I regretted anything more.

I looked at the spaces where once he'd dwelled. Felt his presence like a ghost that haunted me. Echoes of his voice calling out on the wind, keeping me from sleep in the night and my mind elsewhere during the day. I was keeping the animals fed, but barely functioning. And on the third day without him, I began to consider that I did not want this life.

Day 475 ~ Amelia

The rot had set in. The chickens clucked in their coop. The horses whined in their stables. And I laid in the same sheets that still carried his scent as I stared out of the window. Watching clouds pass over the canopy of trees. Wishing that I could just float away. There was no meaning to any of it anymore. I longed for that same end which had come to everyone, save me.

With Jake, it had been easy to forget that I'd been forsaken. Forgotten. Left behind, or spared. Whichever was the truth, none of it mattered whilst I had him by my side. It was him and it was me, this was ours. A solitary place for us to live out our days until we were old and had forgotten that once we'd live in a world where other people had.

I couldn't do this without him. And so I kept myself wrapped in bed sheets where he'd made love to me before and the fabric still carried the memory of his body. If only me and this bed sheet remembered him it meant that once he'd been real. And I could die knowing that wherever he was, perhaps I'd reach him in death.

Day 477 ~ Amelia

I kicked the corpse of the chicken I had starved to death. Moving it's lifeless body with the edge of my foot as I threw down some feed for the ones who had made it through my grief. I had long since brushed my hair or my teeth. The heavy weight of losing Jake mirrored in the depth of the dark circles beneath my eyes, my pallor was grey. I had not eaten in days and the thought of plucking the dead chicken for meat turned my stomach, so I threw it out into the woods and hoped some creature would find it a tasty meal.

I wasn't living. And the concept of no longer being here began to feel like a gift that I would be giving myself. I didn't want any of this anymore without Jake. Where once there'd been hope that I could do this alone, in it's place was just memories of him that hurt so badly I could scarcely go a day without clutching my belly and falling to my knees. Wailing into the ether where none could hear me.

This wasn't life. It was purgatory. Just a gateway between life and death. My heart was still inexplicably beating. But without purpose. And I was tired of it. For seven days I had tried and failed to carry on without him and for seven days I had carried a strength I could no longer bear. If I was weak, then I'd walk into that weakness willingly and with the knowledge that I had tried. And the only hope that I had left was that which told me that Jake waited for me on the other side.

The version of him that I had imagined was all that I had left. I had loved him so much that I had known that losing him would completely eradicate all my desire to live. There was no amount of time that I could have had with him that would have ever been enough. And the moments which we had shared now felt like only one or two stitches on what could have been a rich tapestry. If I didn't live, there would be nobody left to remember him. But if I lived, I would remember him. And that in itself was the most cruel of fates.

Day 478 ~ Amelia

Today. I had considered it enough. Today was going to be my final day on earth. And although the manner within which I would unravel from my mortal coil had not been determined, I knew that by the time the sun began to set that I'd be set within my death.

I woke early. There were signs of spring in the air as I showered and dressed. The air a little warmer. The sun rising a little earlier. And I finally brushed my hair and teeth. Making sure that I went to my end with a little dignity. I tended to the animals and although I wasn't quite sure why, knowing their end would be as bitter as mine, it felt good to be doing something useful again.

I ate a small breakfast of scrambled eggs and drank a cup of hot coffee. I took a blanket out onto the porch swing and read a few chapters of a book that I'd neglected. All things which I would have done on any other uneventful day. And as I looked up from my pages, I tried to imagine Jake chopping wood on the block opposite the porch.

His wide swing circling back, the axe in both hands. His hair blowing in the breeze, and a look of absolute satisfaction on his lips as the axe blew the wood apart. The back of his hand rested against his forehead as he began to sweat, even though the temperatures outside were far too cool.

I stared into the brush, the green and the brown and the bark of the tree's all lining up to create the forest floor beyond. Listening to the soft bird call and wind through the leaves. I put my book down and decided to just sit there a while and take it all in while I could.

Everything was perfectly still. As if it had paused itself in the wake of my decision to leave it all behind. I almost felt as if I couldn't have picked a more perfect day. I was calm, perhaps too calm.

"I really wish you were here." I said, my eyes roving around the beauty of the forest for one last time.

That was when I saw it. Emerging from beyond what my eye could see. I squinted into it. Not certain at first, convinced that I was imagining it. I slid off the porch swing and advanced down the steps. Something moved between the tree's. Something that wasn't swaying in the breeze or part of the natural order of things. It was dark at first, just a spectre that I couldn't clearly define.

"Jake?!" I said his name before I even knew that it was him.

His name on the breeze called to him. He moved more swiftly, moving aside the shrubbery with his bare hands as he began to run. And I, too, began to run on bare feet into the woods.

"Jake!!!" I screamed it, aching to reach him before I would be torn from this sweetest of dreams.

I purged myself of the love I had for him. Roaring in sobs that came to me unbound as I reached him in a small clearing just beyond the cabin boundary. Over those biting sobs, there was no sound. I buried my face into the curve of his hollow neck. Whatever had been locked inside me, spilling out against his flesh. I cried without thought or regard. I had no control over it, the days of struggle all seemed to converge until I cried hopelessly and fiercely into him.

He clutched me tightly. Refusing to let him see my face, I forced myself to stay against his chest. This dream I would not wake from. If I looked into his eyes I would know it wasn't real and I was not ready to give it up. I would let him hold me for as long as I could hold on to him. And I would cherish the sweetness of such a vivid untruth. It was all but a dream, just a dream...

"Amelia..." He uttered.

"No..." I hushed. "Don't speak, don't wake me."

Birds stirred in the distance. Somewhere the breeze picked up, and I could hear the slither of it through leaves that had fallen onto the ground. Picking them up in a vain attempt to return them to the air.

"Amelia, my love...open your eyes." He urged, that familiar touch of his hand coming to rest on my cheek.

I had cried enough. There were no tears left. But when I opened my eyes, they continued regardless. Not sobs of grief, but quiet droplets of something which I had no name for.

"Jake." I repeated in whisper, although he wasn't the Jake of my memory.

He was changed. The hair which used to flow down over his beautiful face had been chopped just above his shoulders. Rough stubble pebbled his upper lip and chin. But the eyes which bore down into me were the same. I would have known those eyes even if he had changed beyond all recognition. His arms felt the same, too. A mixture of desire and urgency and restraint. And for one still moment I took in the sight of him, before venomous anger took over.

I struck him once. Cold and hard across his jawline. He turned his face away but did not buckle with the blow. I had probably not struck him hard enough, or perhaps he had been expecting it. He didn't release me, and I was glad. And when he turned back, his face had not changed. As if he'd felt nothing. Or perhaps, he'd felt worse and this was nothing in comparison.

"I deserved that." He breathed, the sound of his voice filling me such relief I almost died right there just as I had planned to.

If I had known in that moment what it was within his mind, perhaps I would have prepared myself better. As much as anyone can be prepared for a kiss that they never thought they would have again.

He clasped me harder, his hands crushing my arms as he pulled me into him. He turned his head slightly, too swiftly for me to consider it. As if he had never been in any doubt that this would be how we would reunite. He brushed his lips against mine. Softly at first, those eyes probing me for the briefest moment for permission of sorts. And then he kissed me harder, deeper and with fierce conviction. Whatever small part I had in this kiss, I knew it was my place to submit to it. He pushed his body against mine, his mouth opening and showing me that nothing else mattered.

I fought against his tongue. Wanting it so badly, but too full of wondering to let him have too much of it. I let him have a moment of it. And not a second more.

"Jake, please..." I pulled back, holding his face between my palms as I studied the sunken cheekbones beneath his dark eyes. "You've been gone for eight days."

"I know." He replied, "And for eight days I've been trying to get back to you."

I didn't understand, couldn't fathom what he had been through. Somehow it was etched there in his emaciated face. A struggle I would never be able to share the depth of with him. And he, in return, would never be able to follow me into mine.

"I don't understand." I muttered, turning his face this way and that to try and see a hint of what it had cost him to return to me. "I thought you had....vanished."

"You think that I would choose to leave you?" He simpered, taking another kiss as we began to rise. "That's not a choice I ever thought I'd have to make. But I did. And I would do it again a thousand times to keep you safe."

There would be time enough for explanations. He was weary. Dishevelled and somehow traumatised. And so I silently led him back to the cabin, my arm around his waist. The outline of his ribs against my hand. And any thought of my own death somehow completely gone from me.

Day 479 ~ Jake

She was a sight for sore eyes. Resting her little head on my chest. Hair fanned out across my arm, the scent of it like pine and moss. I was showered and she'd made food for me. Silently eating it as she sat beside me at the kitchen table, stroking my hair and looking at me as if she'd never seen anything more precious to her.

No sooner had I pushed my empty plate aside, she'd taken my hand and told me to get in bed. And I'd insisted that she crawl in beside me. Folding herself up into my side like she'd always belonged there. And for the first time in eight days I felt rested.

"You haven't asked me what happened out there." I mentioned, resting my cheek against her crown.

"You'll tell me when you're ready." She replied, sighing deeply as she swept her fingertips across my stomach.

I could see a madness in her that hadn't been there before. I tried to imagine what it had been like for her, but my thoughts always fell short. She was quiet. I kept catching her gazing at me as if she couldn't quite believe that I was there. She'd even sat with me as I showered, handing me the soap and watching the dirt slide off my back.

"You wouldn't believe me, even if I did tell you." I surmised, running my hand down her spine, feeling her body shift as she turned to look at me.

"Try me." She answered, calm and collected, as if we were talking about a T.V show we'd watched. "I've considered everything. Driven myself mad with it."

"I know." I replied softly, "You didn't deserve that. But what's happening out there... it's unlike anything that we could have been prepared for."

Her interest piqued, she raised herself up onto an elbow and furrowed her brow.

"What do you mean? Out there?" She said, "How far did you go?"

I didn't have a distance that I could tell her in numbers. Only that I'd gone beyond where my scent could be traced back. Days and nights of running, being hunted. The pack were smart. Even when I'd climbed tree's to avoid their eye line, they'd lingered on the forest floor picking up the scent of me and waiting for me to make my next move.

I knew that if I went back to the cabin they'd follow me there. I had to get them far enough away and lose them so that I could circle back without bringing them with me. On the fourth day I lost them, their senses distracted, and it had taken another four days to get back.

"We need to secure the perimeters of the cabin. Make sure the livestock is safe. That nothing can get in." I told her, my voice unintentionally rising to panic.

"Why?!" She asked, "What happened, Jake? You're scaring me."

There would be time enough to tell her. That the creatures we'd once held so dear had gone back to their most basic bloodlines. That the wild animals were welcoming their domestic kin back into the fold. That the wolves had descended, but not as we remembered them. They were just regular dogs. Like the one my brother had loved and kept. Her name was Rose and she had slept on my bunk in the tour bus, sniffling in my guitar cases for treats. The softest, most loving creature I had ever known. And I just couldn't picture her a snarling, starving mess with dripping fangs and a taste for blood.

But somehow I knew she was out there, trying to survive if she hadn't already died.

"I'll tell you, baby." I promised, pulling her back onto my chest, not certain I could look her in the eye as I spoke.

All I wanted to do was hold her. Remind myself why I'd risked everything. She listened to me and hummed in agreeance to everything I said. Gasping in disbelief at my tale of pursuit. She would circle her fingers over my navel as she listened, drawing little intakes of breath from me as I tried to paint her a vivid picture until I had to give in to her.

No more talking. No more desperately trying to cling on to the fact that I'd made it back home to her. What was any of it for if not for the sweetness of her body? Her kiss? I wanted to reunite with her in the only way that I could. Pushing her onto her back, striking my thumb across her cheek as I swept her hair away from her face.

"Why'd you chop your beautiful hair off, Jake?" She asked, picking up a tendril of what used to sit on my collar bone.

"That's how I managed to fool them." I replied, nodding into a smiling kiss. "I cut my hair and scattered it for them to confuse my scent. Once they were distracted, I managed to put a few miles between us."

The way she looked at me made my heart rush. Every empty space without her filled with a warmth that felt like home. She looked at me as if I held the world in my hands for her. I was the one who made it turn.

"Don't you ever disappear on me like that again, Jacob."

She meant it. Stoic and steadfast, she didn't miss a beat.

"No Ma'am." I replied, sinking into a kiss that made my cock start to awaken to the possibility of that proper reunion.

She wasted no time. Climbing on top of me, letting her hair fall. Her perfect breasts pushed up against my chest as she kissed me. Blood pumped harder in my veins. My body somehow awakening the strength to wrap my arms around her and spin her onto her back. She squealed with joy. Her laughter filling my senses like music I'd never heard before.

And I forgot everything that had happened before that sweet moment.

Day 479 ~ Amelia

My man. My quick thinking silent protector. He was mine. And as he laid me down beneath him I'd never felt more safe. The scent of his freshly washed body, the lines of bones that now protruded signalled his struggle and I held them close to me as he parted my legs.

The nightmares we'd had could wait. I welcomed him between my thighs and let him push his hard cock into my desperately wet pussy that had pined for him just as much as my heart had. Soon he was writhing above me, panting for breath and sealing his lips to my nipples as he thrusted against me. And I forgot that I'd wanted to die. The invisible thread which kept me tethered to this life had returned to me. And I could never tell him what I'd intended to do.

"Fuck, I missed you...I missed this." He breathed the words against my chest, sliding his tongue across the valley of my breasts.

There was nothing more erotic than the sweet reunion of lovers who had never known that they would ever meet again. In the world we'd once lived in, a call or a text would have eased our worried minds. But without so much as a letter to be delivered, I'd lived in a state of unknowing. It felt almost unreal to have him bared to me, making love to me in a bed he'd been wholly absent from.

I couldn’t get enough of him. I was tired and sore but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted the ache. I wanted him in me, all the time. His weight on top of me. I wanted to squeeze him in further and further. I wanted to watch his face. I wanted his sweat to drop onto me. I wanted to drop mine on him. To feel the bitterness that had kept us apart dissipate in the feral moans that rang out from that bedroom of ours.

"Never again Jake..." I made him swear. "Don't you ever leave me again... Don't leave me alone in this world."

He was breathless and covered in sweat. His and mine. Pussy juice and the cum which had leaked from his tip smeared across our bodies. The gentle rhythm of our love making turning into fierce sex that would bring us to completion.

The depth of his despair was in the way he looked at me then. He took my hair in his fist, holding me still. My legs spread wide for him, his hips grinding into me as if he couldn't bear it.

"I'll die before I ever leave you alone, my love." He whispered solemnly, pressing his mouth against my ear.

"Now hush." He ordered, "And take what I have to give you..."

I could only submit to the violent way he fucked me. Screaming his name into the night. And somewhere in the distance, under the light of the full moon, a wolf howled into the wind...

To be Continued...

@caprisunsister @thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch @lyndz2names @nina-23-45 @itsafullmoon y @char289 @dancingcarbon @gvfpal @violetstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @jazzyfigz @gvfmarge @ignite-my-fire

#greta van fleet #jake kiszka #fanfic #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf #fanfiction #gvf fanfiction #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka x reader

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yekokataa · 1 year

Text

Pale lore in Sacred and Terrible Air

I pulled together some of my favorite descriptions of the Pale from Kurvitz's novel. All excerpts are from the excellent fan translation by Group Ibex, which I think really nailed the style of the game in these quotes.

Warning: Full of SPOILERS and extremely LONG!

The Pale, up close:

The main characters take a road trip to the Lemminkäise zone of entroponetic catastrophe in Katla. They hire a racecar driver and drive to the very edge of the disaster zone, where matter is actively dissolving into the Pale.

The border point disappeared behind them, along with the invisible boundary of winter’s orbit, beyond which is eternal winter. The asphalt also disappeared over time; they encountered rural families on sleds along snowy gravel roads. It is their great privilege to have seen the pale with their own eyes, where it has towered behind the silo since childhood.

Kenni sees the black mass of the forest slowly drifting into the sky. The earth crunches and cracks as the spruce trees tear themselves out of it, roots and all. The wood screams, and the frozen earth too, like they’re in a dentist’s chair. A cloud of limestone gravel flies into the air, and far above in the dark, the first trees are subsumed in the pale.

Tereesz, Khan, and the mad Suruese driver look outside, their heads tilted back, as the pale approaches from behind the house. Inside, the bass drum thumps robustly, and outside, behind the silhouette of the building, the dark mass of the forest rolls up into the sky across the entire visible horizon. The pale rises vertically from the spruce forests like a wave, from the mountain ranges above the expanse of the world. Its horror moves slowly, humming over the world, but the world is made of matter, and matter is evergreen, ancient; it sustains itself with surprising dignity even at the moment of disappearance.

The pale can lift up entire houses! Holy shit! Our boys make a narrow escape from the edge of the encroaching pale as a house is torn away from its foundation.

In the yard, where the wheels of the motor carriage have drawn a loop in the snow, Inayat Khan looks up at a farm building that hovers above him like a ghost. Electrical wire entrails hang out of the rotating object, black against the expanse of the starry sky. It drifts on into the pale with a self-evident calm. Up above, a trail of its furniture and crumbling foundation remains. In the yard in front of him, Khan watches how a startled Tereesz and Kenni follow the object’s path, their heads tilting back until they hit the wooden fence behind them. In a strange, panic-free concern, they all look in the direction of Ulv’s crumbling house. It seems as if every little crack comes from its limestone foundation. Soon it will rise up. But nothing happens. The pale freezes in place far away, behind the house; the creaking of the forest stops, and the music in the house also stops. Somewhere in the perceptible distance, on the edge of the frozen pale above, the farmhouse falls apart and disappears. […] The engine revs up and the carriage’s wheels spin in the snow. The mass of the pale can no longer support its phantom weight. It breaks down. The vast clearings crumple under it in an instant, exploding with powder snow; a collapse like a shock wave whirls over the world. Spruce trees bow under the blow, and the pale blasts open the windows of the old decaying manor house. It arches around the edges of the house, as if hesitating for a moment, and then explodes together, encompassing it. The pale grabs the manor in its lap, and somewhere inside, in a room with a low ceiling, the young man puts on his headphones. He reads the sweeping pale like a magnetic reader reads a Stereo 8 tape. […] The pale blows across the fields, on both sides of the village road. Its avalanche crashes onto the gravel; the rumbling wall approaches, glowing crimson from the motor carriage’s tail lights.

Travel through the Pale:

Floating magnet trains seem common, and they even go through the Pale. There's a brief mention that Tereesz once spent a week on a magnet train and was then told he wasn't allowed to travel for a year afterwards due to the dangers of pale exposure.

Outside on the platform, giant buffers are being pulled off the train. The umbilical cord is cut and thus, freed from the connecting bridges, the entire weight of the train with its five-fold carriage slats sinks onto the magnets. They howl at full power below the train cars. And then the flight begins. The magnetic support splits the North Sea under it in two. It’s quiet inside, the generators humming as the train whizzes by fifty metres above the water. The three of them stand together, laughing. Tereesz extinguishes his smoke in a bronze ashtray, and they turn their back on the observation windows. Ahead, the pale awaits, and past it begins a big world. […] Through the windows, all that’s left of the city behind them is the light pollution, a golden glow in the distant darkness of the snowstorm.

This floating train station has an illustration Rostov by the way.

For a historical travel example: the famous disappearance of the airship Harnankur. This airship was referenced in the game in the form of the 50-real vodka in the special edition commemorative bottle! Rostov's illustration from the novel is here, showing a model of the ship in Khan's basement.

One hundred and fifty years ago, on another isola—the Graad isola—it snows in the city of Mirova. It’s a midwinter evening, but thousands of people have gathered in the harbour. The quay bustles with them. In the background lies imperial Graad—church steeples and chimneys. The crowd is waving, bidding farewell to the airship rising into the sky. A swan made of wood and nickel rises into the blizzard, and the passengers of the world’s first interisolary flight wave to the crowd from its balcony baskets: well-dressed boujee people, with a never-before-seen adventure ahead of them. It’s the pale—terrifying, but at the same time such an upbeat and unforgettable experience. Modern technology, in the form of a luxuriously upholstered airship, now makes such an experience possible for an ordinary, if perhaps slightly better off, citizen. And on the other side of the pale—oh mystical pale!—the land of Katla awaits, with its royal capital of Vaasa. […] Two days later, the interisolary flight enters the pale, and then, barely six hours later, a deviation occurs in the airship’s course. “Harnankur” has gone missing with fifteen hundred passengers on board. The flight is believed to have drifted into an uncharted entroponetic mass, the pale superdeep.

Sound

The pale makes a hissing sound. Here Khan receives a phone call from one of the missing presumed dead girls, who may be a ghost or part of the pale, it's all left very ambiguous. It reminds me of the part in the game where you can call Slipstream SCA and hear a ghost trapped in the phone.

He picks up the receiver, and the hallway fills with the hiss of the pale. It grates in his ear. “Hello?” asks Khan. But no one answers. “Hello, who is it? Please tell me who you are!” he repeats, more and more pleading each time. The hissing becomes louder and louder, until finally it deafens him, the pressure in his inner ear goes awry, and only that vibration from who-knows-where remains, its centre. The silence goes through his flesh and bones like waves. It’s cold.

Later, we learn that the pale can actually come through the phone lines?? Creepy!

The speaker switches to a long-distance call; the pale seeps into the hall air from the fabric-covered ziggurat. The signal runs as an entroponetic sequence through the Great Unknown, from Katla to Graad. Relay stations clear the call from the noise of history along the way, but something always creeps into the wires—a ghost radio station. Its quiet voice in its unintelligible language reminds us what it’s here for. To end life.

It's also similar to the sounds of the pale latitude compressor! During a long distance call through the pale, a voice is heard spelling things out using an “international alphabet” like the real-world NATO phonetic alphabet.

This is how matter degrades, drop by drop, like an analog rhythm running from red through the colourless world. The international alphabet is hidden in the low-frequency waves, “... Nadir-Ellips-Gamut-Azimuth...” and so on, to the border of the settlement.

Culture, ideology

Zigi as a teen is a total edgelord when it comes to talking about the pale:

But above all, Zigi is still a nihilist. He reads dia-mat [dialectical materialism], says that animals are automatons, is a fan of behaviourism, and adores the pale and the nihilistic innocence of Mesque, Ambrosius Saint-Miro. […] The geography teacher sent him to the principal’s office, and Zigi stopped at the door, the zippers of his leather jacket jingling. “See you in the pale,” he said, and ran his index finger across his throat. Back when entroponetics was not discussed at school, many people gathered around Zigi during recess, and the corridor echoed with his half-truths: “The pale is made of the past,” he said. “All the lost things are jumbled up there, sad and abandoned. The pale is the world’s memory of the world. It accumulates matter and sweeps away everything in its path. This is what’s called entroponetic collapse.” “But when will it happen, Zigi?" “Yes, Zigi, when?” “It will happen in your lifetime, little Olle. At least, I hope so. History swallows the present; the world of matter disappears, desaparecido... That’s why there’s no point in our generation going to school. There will be no future. When you grow up, don’t have children like your underdeveloped bourgeois parents did. You’ll get to see them die, and that’s it. Compared to the pale, there’s only a small amount of the world left! In the end, the isolas will sink, dozens and hundreds of square kilometres of land mass, can you even imagine? Like a ship keeling over into the pale. Fwooom...” Zigi makes a sinking ship gesture with his hands, the zippers of his leather jacket jingling; the children gasp. “Don’t worry, Olle, this will be the peak of humanity.”

In the game, Zigi's brand of entroponetic nihilism gets two very brief (and kind of hidden) mentions, where it's named as entropolism. I've got those quotes saved in my post here.

Waves

The pale seems very wave-like in that scene where it lifts a house, and apparently it's also like a wave according to science:

“It’s an oceanographic myth. The Killer Wave.” Little Khan points in the direction of the body of water. The four of them watch from the safe warmth of a beach towel. Insects buzz in the dark, around the gas lanterns. “For a long time it was just that—a myth, a sailor’s tale. Arda even has a mythological name for it: ‘halderdingr’. But now they’re a scientifically documented phenomenon, they really exist, you understand? This explains the dozens, hundreds of missing ships. […] “And you know what’s the most fucked up thing about it?” Khan asks slyly. He wipes his diamaterialist glasses and then puts them back on. His almond eyes squint behind the magnifying lenses, filled to the brim with popular science mystique. “The same effect—don’t ask me how, I don’t know—but the same non-linear effect also explains the pale. They use it in entroponetics. This is how the pale behaves when it sweeps over the world.”

Mold

I've heard that in Estonian the word used for Pale is Hall, meaning both frost and mold, like a pale gray film that covers the surface of things. As the Pale takes Vaasa, fruits begin to grow mold. Some people choose to stay rather than leave the disaster zone.

The panic has cooled. In the strange indifference of the evacuation, whole families stay behind in Vaasa. There they play board games, in their houses, in their spacious apartments. They love vitamin-rich food, and when the pale is only a few days away, it’s always signalled by the same beautiful event. Fruits go mouldy. It grows vigorously on them. Children listen to oranges crackling on the table. Spores sprout from the pulp, apples are hairy with it. If you try to touch them, they crack open. No one knows why it’s like that. But few can muster the energy to be afraid of that time, and that’s why I say it’s beautiful.

And later, when Zigi is living in a forest that's been taken by the Pale, even the animals have been consumed by it although they're still alive:

And to the dark forest, to the museum of natural history, where mould grows on the horns of the males and puffs of steam no longer rise from the kids’ nostrils. They still breathe—not oxygen, but pure pale.

Turning into a protein mass

The mother of the missing girls sits in her home, waiting for the pale to take her:

Ann-Margret Lund also sits there somewhere in her kitchen, in the middle of the pale; her rooms are quiet and clean. The former teacher wears a beige jacket and an above-the-knee skirt, and watches the moulding apricots. […] Like everyone else, she can’t do anything in this extended stay, where one’s sense of the present slowly drifts away. But whereas the others dissolve into their memories, she simply disappears. It’s as if her life had never happened. The past is not awaiting her return. She just wanders around the rooms, adjusts her grandmother’s lace doily and bedspreads, arranges the curtains on the rails. And thus, tastefully, she refuses to indulge in those ecstasies which visit the human spirit when the world is disintegrating. Nothing leaves her hands, and nothing returns. When Katla finally sinks into the pale, Ann-Margret Lund turns, without the slightest pleasure, into a protein mass.

Hanging out in the Pale with the ghost of Ignus Nielsen

Years later, as an adult, Zigi has become immune to the effects of the Pale, and even stays in the middle of it in a tent, hanging out with the cytoplasmic spirit of a dead communist.

Human speech sounds out of place in the silence of the pale. It echoes in the gloom of the trees as Zygismunt trudges through the snow. There’s an old trick coined by the great entroponaut K. Voronikin, that you have to shout in the pale. Otherwise, you start to feel gloomy, and the past comes up. But Zygismunt needn’t be afraid of that. When he first entered the pale, he discovered to his great dismay that he couldn’t return like everyone else. Or rather—he could, but not where he really wants. This makes him indispensable to Mazov’s idea. The disappearance of the Lund children has literally given Zigi special entroponetic powers.

He goes hunting for pale-poisoned ibexes. The phrase ‘protein mass’ comes up again. It seems that any human or animal in the pale for long enough eventually turns into a protein mass.

The entroponaut shakes himself. Snow falls from the shoulders of the anorak coat. He goes on alone. An hour of frozen machine tracks and hoofprints in the snow run along in the flashlight beam. And when a herd of ibex finally emerges from the darkness, they are frozen in place in the middle of the road, like an exhibit in a natural history museum. Some of the females sometimes jerk in place, sneezing; this is a nervous impulse, a muscle tremor. The backs of the stuffed animals are already covered with snow, but their snouts are still steaming, they’re still breathing—some for a few days, some for a week. An anorak-clad figure moves through the herd with the indifference of a professional until the beam of his flashlight casts the alpha male’s crown of horns as a shadow on the wall of spruce trees. Zygismunt looks into the animal’s glazed eyes. Its sense of time has broken down. An automaton’s primitive fragment of a brain strays in the pale faster than that of a human. This is how hunters from the outskirts go hunting in the entrokataa. Of course, they’ll eventually go mad from it as well, and one day they won’t return. But not Zigi, he has special abilities. He takes a pocket knife from his belt and slits the protein mass’s throat.

#disco elysium #Püha ja õudne lõhn #sacred and terrible air #the pale #pjõl #de meta #disco elysium lore

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signoraviolettavalery · 6 months

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Everything I can remember about the Den Haag and Amsterdam gigs, before I forget, but also I got about as little sleep as they did because I was a)worrying about their travel b)too hyped up to sleep

Den Haag

they were so hella energetic for people who had gone through All That to get here, Bojan was hella alive, but he didn't banter much with the crowd

It was Sinterklaas so they got soooooo many gifts. Hats, lofts of candy (traditional sinterklaas gift), bracelets, flags, letters...

Someone threw stroopwaffels because those are Kris' favorite

the Dutch crowd was so polite??? There was no barricade but nobody was grabbing them or their guitars, the only things that were being thrown at the stage were soft things like hats, nobody was chucking presents directly at them, any bracelets that got thrown were thrown gently onto the stage rather than at them

(fyi afterwards when the crew cleans up they go through and pick up all the gifts so as long as it gets onto the stage they'll get it)

they confirmed several times that they'll be back to the Netherlands

In Ne Bi Smel he changed "sem bil slep" to "sem kreten" again

when singing ASTP Bojan had the various parts of the venue cheer first, and the balcony that cheered the least loud got ASTP sung to them specifically; and at the end he changed the lyrics so they went "kako lepo disite me" aka "how nice you (plural) smell to me" idk was he saying the sweaty crowd filling this venue smelled nice to him (I have QUESTIONS)

there were balloons onstage, at some point, Jan decided he had a vendetta against the balloons, starting popping them with his boots by jumping around while playing the guitar and, being a clutz, got tangled in a flag/coat/something? by the drums and nearly fell over a;slkfjwe Jan why are you like this I love you

Kris got a pope hat that he put on right before NGVOT so he sang NGVOT as the pope I guess

Kris was drinking tea during the gig; every time Bojan was introducing the song he was just chilling by the drum set and sipping his tea while wearing sunglasses, iconic, gives zero fucks, I love him

Amsterdam

holy shit this gig was wild and magical. We gave them such a warm welcome and we screamed so loud I think even Bojan was impressed

the music as we were waiting for the gig was ABBA followed by Lady Gaga and Barbie Girl, and after the gig it was Avril Lavigne. We got most of those songs yesterday so Im' guessing Bojan picked that soundtrack :P

after they did Gola he asked "ok, so you know the words. How many of you hear aren't slovenian?" the entire fucking venue raises their hands. "we should get y'all on duolingo" Bojan Slovenian isn't on Duolingo!!

Bojan really, truly makes everyone feel seen. It's astounding. The opening act, Mia Nicolai, she was good, but she mostly just started in front of her, at the people in front of the stage. Bojan looks around and makes eye contact with everyone. The people on the balconies (I swear he looked straight at me, I died), the people in the front rows, the people on the sides, the people in the back. Every time, you feel seen. He's just got that something, not just stage presence, but that knack for being up there and making it a party that includes everyone

at some point, it got really hot and their crew started passing out water bottles. I think Bojan even went backstage during the Ne Bi Smel intro to ask them to give out more. He was really attentive and when one girl fainted or almost fainted during Ne Bi Smel he noticed, cut the music off immediately, the lights go up, and he made sure she was escorted by security and that she was okay before they restarted the song. Total pros.

introducing NGVOT: "I have to call a very special singer up to the stay. Kris. This song came about because of his broken heart. That heart is now healed" (important information to share I guess) and then Kris of course did NGVOT

Bojan: asks the crowd how to say umazane misli in Dutch. They tell him and he repeats it. Bojan then turns to Kris if he said it right, kris says no. "Well how would you say it then?" Bojan asks. "I don't know but what you said sounds wrong" as;lkfjwe Kris you're iconic

There were some Slovenians in the crowd! Including a girl whom Bojan went to high school with with. He dedicated Omamljeno Telo to her because "you heard it when I played it in high school"

He gave a really long intro to Plastika about how we're supposed to hate our analog minds and our analog bodies and how this is all terrible and basically just love yourself and don't judge others

Nace spent a lot of time playing across from Kris and didn't spend all that much time with his husband onstage :( :(

At the end Kris took off the Stozice outfit sleeves and threw them into the crowd so now there's two people who own that little piece of history

Anyway did I mention Amsterdam was magical, they were on fire, they were delighted to be there, the crowed was delighted to have them, and so enthusiastic, and there was just so much energy and hearing them live is truly something else. The recordings are amazing but being there, in that space with them, when they're at their best, hearing them actually perform those songs? Indescribable. Live CD when?

#joker out #amsterdam #den haag #i'm probably forgetting things so this post will be updated/edited #I gotta go catch a train now

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ladykailitha · 1 year

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Royal Pain Part 1

Hello, everyone! Welcome to the story that has had my entire weekend on lock. Like every spare moment was writing this story. I wrote over 6000 words in two days. So yeah. Don’t worry. I’m still working on Boy With a Bat (I just need time to research season 3 so I don’t over step on the show’s timeline {like I did with “Little Runaway”}). And of course I love working on “All My Roads Lead Back to You” and will continue working on it as well. Also these first two parts are long. I don’t know if all the parts will be as long, but as you can see when you read them there isn’t a lot of places to stop (and not make them super short).

Summary: No Monster Modern AU. Eddie and his band, Corroded Coffin, have a steady gig at a bar in Indy where they play every weekend. Eddie's life takes a left turn when his regular tattoo artist, Max Mayfield, moves to New York with her boyfriend Lucas Sinclair, newly traded to the New York Knicks. Now needing a new tattoo artist, Jeff recommends "Royal Pain", which even Max agrees is a good shop. On arrival, Eddie is shocked to find Steve is the shop's artist. They hit it off, and slowly move from the barest of acquaintances to boyfriends.

***

“God damn it!” Eddie growled, throwing his phone at the sofa and snarling when it bounced to the floor.

“One day you’re gonna throw it so hard and it will break,” Gareth grumbled from behind his drum set.

It was Corroded Coffin’s weekly practice. They weren’t big or anything, but they had a steady gig at a local metal bar and it paid good money. They drew large enough crowds that they were able to play their own music.

Eddie hopped to his feet to retrieve the discarded phone from the floor. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered darkly.

“What’s got your panties in such a twist?” Jeff asked from the same sofa Eddie had tossed the phone at. He was tuning his guitar, ear bent toward the strings.

Eddie scoffed. “Like you have any interest in my panties.”

Jeff lunged and grabbed one of Gareth’s drumsticks from the bucket he kept at his side and threw it at Eddie.

“Hey!” both Gareth and Eddie protested.

“Just answer the damn question!” Brian sneered from his place on the battered old floral armchair. “You usually like bitching, so what’s your deal?”

Eddie flopped gracelessly on the lavender two-seater. “That was my tattoo artist,” he groused, crossing his arms petulantly. “Her boyfriend got traded to the New York Knicks so they are moving there and if I want to get my dragon finished before she leaves, I better ‘haul ass’ according to her.”

Eddie’s friends winced. They knew finding a tattoo artist you could trust in a style you liked was hard. And for Eddie to lose his? That sucked. Max Mayfield was one of the best in Indy and to lose her to New York? That was even worse. But her boyfriend, Lucas Sinclair, was an NBA raising star and she went where did. Which meant Eddie had to start all over with a new artist.

Suddenly Eddie straightened up. “Hey, Jeffie!” he said. “Did you ever get that tattoo you wanted done?”

Jeff lit up. “Oh yeah!” He set his guitar aside and rolled up his sleeve and showed them his tattoo. It was of a bullet tearing through the flesh. It was fantastically rendered, where you could see the torn muscles and broken bone. It covered the scar there perfectly. “Isn’t it fucking amazing?”

“Holy shit!” Brian cried. “That is so wicked.”

Eddie leaned forward, eyes wide with wonder. “Yeah fuck, man. Where did you get that?”

“It’s this little place called Royal Pain,” Jeff explained. “The artist, Stevie is so fucking good.”

Eddie chewed on his lip, thinking hard. “Hey, can I get the number?”

Eddie was standing in front of a shop that he wouldn’t have in a million years would have even suspected was a tattoo parlor. It was a clean and bright storefront. The sign was black with a golden crown was on the R. It was a far cry from any other tattoo parlor he had ever been to. But despite his reservations, both Max and Jeff highly recommended this place and specifically this ‘Stevie’.

Sighing deeply, he yanked open the door and took two steps into the shop. The decor was nice enough, it had a ‘royal’ theme to it, he supposed, but he really didn’t look that much. Because suddenly Eddie knew who Stevie was. The name, the royal decor, and Robin fucking Buckley as receptionist.

He was going to kill Jeff. Or maybe just his next three D&D characters. Because there was no way on this insignificant planet did Jeff Lawrence not recognize King Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington. They had all gone to school together. Robin was Steve’s best friend. His soulmate if the rumors were to be believed.

He was about to turn around and walk out, Jeff and Max’s recommendations be damned. Even he wasn’t that masochistic. But he was stopped by the cheerful, “Welcome to Royal Pain! How can I help you?”

Eddie winced and rubbed his eye in frustration, but made his way up to the counter. “Munson, Eddie. I have a two o’clock with Stevie.”

Her smile grew genuine. “Not your first tattoo, I take it.”

Eddie pulled down the collar of his shirt to show of his finished dragon tattoo. “Yeah, no. Some asshole jock absconded to New York with my tattoo artist, so here I am.”

She grinned. “Stevie will be out in a moment.”

Before Eddie could chicken out, the man himself came out of a backroom, wiping off his hands. Eddie gulped. Steve looked very much the same as he did in high school. Same hazel eyes, honey hair, tight jeans and a fucking polo. This guy couldn’t have looked less like a tattoo artist if he tried. Except for one thing.

He could see tattoos on Steve’s arms. He couldn’t get a good look at them without staring but yeah, okay. Steve Harrington, tattoo artist. Who would have thought?

Steve looked up and smiled brightly. “Eddie?” Eddie nodded. “Hey! It’s so good to see you. I had hoped when I saw the name that it was you. How’s it been?”

Robin tilted her head in confusion and made an odd chirping noise.

“Come on, Robs,” Steve teased her. “You can’t tell me you don’t remember Eddie from school.”

She looked Eddie up and down and then cocked her head. “You do look vaguely familiar.”

Steve laughed. “You know, ran the D&D club, had that rock band–”

“Metal,” Eddie corrected. “Not rock, metal.”

Steve snapped his fingers. “That’s right, sorry. Oh! And stood on tables ranting about the man and how schools fail the kids they are supposed to teach.”

“You stepped on my sandwich,” she said deadpan.

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “Whoops.”

She grinned and pushed his shoulder. “Just kidding. It was Tammy Thompson’s sandwich.”

“Isn’t she the one that sings like a Muppet?” Eddie asked, with a raised eyebrow.

Steve laughed. “That’s what I said.”

Robin looked between them both and growled, “I hate you both.”

“You’re only saying that because you had a crush on her,” Steve teased.

Eddie raised an eyebrow, “I didn’t know you swung for the other team, Buckley.”

She grinned. “What can I say, I do love a pretty girl.”

Eddie shrugged and cocked his head, nonchalant. “I wouldn’t know.”

Robin wagged her eyebrows at Steve, who rolled his eyes. He turned to Eddie. “So what am I doing for you today?”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment. “Oh!” He pulled out a picture from his back pocket and handed it to Steve.

“This is the Evenstar from Lord of the Rings, right?” Steve asked, tapping the picture. “Arwen’s necklace.”

Eddie lit up. “Yeah. I’m impressed, even uber fans have a hard time remembering that.”

Steve blushed, ducking his head. “I have this friend that hosts huge parties watching the extended versions of the movies every year. Complete with full Hobbit meals. It’s hard not take in something from the films.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asked, suddenly feeling less like murdering Jeff with each passing moment.

Steve smiled back. “Actually, you might remember him. He was in your club, your final year at school.”

Eddie cocked his head. “Oh?”

“Actually, you had three of Steve’s nuggets in your club,” Robin interjected.

Eddie turned to Steve. “What nuggets would those be?”

Steve blushed again. “I used to quasi-babysit these kids. There were about seven of them, if you count Erica and Elle.”

“Which I absolutely do,” Robin crowed delightedly.

Eddie’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he leaned forward. “You babysat kids?”

Steve shrugged. “They were good kids and their parents worked a lot, so they just kinda imprinted on me. Like ducklings.”

“Wait...Lucas, Mike, and Dustin, huh?” Eddie asked putting two and two together. “Holy fucking shit. I loved running their characters. The ranger, the paladin and the bard.” He couldn’t believe it. He had missed out the chance to run with their friend Will, but he had come back to Hawkins after Eddie finally graduated. “Which one was Dustin?”

Steve smiled and then ran his tongue over his teeth. “Floofy hair, trucker hats, Weird Al shirts, and a huge theater nerd.”

Eddie clapped and pointed, “That’s the one!” He tapped his finger over his lips. “Which means it’s Dustin that hosts the Lord of the Rings fest, isn’t he?”

Steve beamed up at him. “Yeah. Sadly I haven’t been able to go the last couple of years.”

Robin made a sympathetic noise.

“Why not?” Eddie asked, the curiosity getting the better of him.

“Migraines,” Steve said with a wince. “Too long staring at a TV set can trigger them, who knew?”

“That sucks.”

Steve looked back at the picture in his hand. “Did you draw this?”

Eddie grinned. “Sure did, big boy!”

“And would you want me to tattoo it in your style?” Steve asked.

Eddie blinked rapidly. “You can do that?”

Robin folded her arms, looking smug. “Hell yeah, he can!”

“I mean, if you can that would be amazing,” he said breathlessly.

“Where is it going, the tattoo, I mean?” Steve asked.

Eddie tapped his chest. “Sternum.”

Steve chewed his lip thoughtfully. “That would be awesome, but have you thought about putting it on your back. Like a shadow covering your spine?”

Robin’s eyebrows shot up.

Eddie shook his head. “As tempting as that would be sweetheart, I have plans for my back.”

Steve looked a little disappointed. “And what would that be?”

“I want big black bat wings on my shoulder blades,” Eddie said gleefully. “I just haven’t found anyone who’s style I liked well enough to trust doing it.”

Steve hurried around the desk and pulled out a large three-ring binder. “This is all my work, flip through it, see if you like my style enough for me to do it for you. Because I would love to. So take a look and let me know if I could be your man.”

Eddie blinked. “Yeah, sure.”

Steve smiled brightly. “Great! I’ll go set up and I’ll call you back when I’m ready.” He practically skipped to the back room again.

Eddie opened the binder slowly and began to shift the pages. They were all amazing pieces of work that only seemed to get better the further he got into the pictures.

“These are amazing,” he breathed.

Robin leaned on the counter and stage whispered, “If you do not get his number after he does your tattoo, I will murder you and no one will find the body.” She leaned back to look down the hall. What she saw Eddie didn’t know, but she leaned back into whisper to him, low and menacing, “I am not paid enough to listen to his rom-com pining bullshit.”

Eddie looked behind her and then back at her. “I’m–I mean–what the hell?”

“Eddie!” Steve called.

Eddie slammed the binder shut and stomped to the back. He stopped short when he got to room. Again he was blown away at how opposite it was from other shops he’d been to. It wasn’t sterile white or anything like that but it was brightly lit and nicely decorated. It was a place that most ‘normies’ would feel comfortable getting their first tattoo. And he got the appeal.

Steve looked up at him with a lopsided smile as if he understood why Eddie was brought up short. “Other tattoo artists give me such shit about my set up, but it’s not about the aesthetic of what people think a tattoo shop should look like. It’s about people feeling comfortable about permanently altering their bodies.”

Eddie nodded. “No man, I get it. It’s just a pleasant surprise, you know?”

Steve grinned at him. “Thanks. Come on, have a seat. Take off your shirt. Relax.” He paused for a moment. “But not necessarily in that order.”

Eddie laughed and pulled off his shirt, tossing it on a nearby chair. He got on the lounge chair and laid back. He noticed the way Steve dragged his tongue over his bottom lip and smirked. Maybe Buckley was right.

“You’ve got a lot of great tattoos,” Steve said, wiping down Eddie’s chest with a mild anesthetic to clean the area. “Your old tattoo artist do those?”

Eddie shrugged. “Yeah, I mean most of them. A couple were stick and poke when I was high school.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Shit, really? I wouldn’t have guessed. They’re all really good.”

Eddie blushed. He figured Steve was just being polite because he thought it was fairly obvious which ones were the stick and poke. “Speaking of high school, I would have never in a million years thought that King Steve would become a tattoo artist. You been doing this long?”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, I got voted most likely to run my own business, but I’m pretty sure they thought something closer along the lines of hair care or some such shit.”

“At least yours was nice,” Eddie grumbled. “I got voted most likely to still be high school at the ten year reunion.”

Steve winced. “Was that the first time or the second time they held you back?”

“First.”

“That’s harsh, man,” Steve commiserated. “Yeah, no, I’ve been doing this for the last five years. Three years at my own shop.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “Wait really? That’s epic, dude.”

Steve nodded. “I went with a friend of mine to see about apprenticing under Hop. He caught me doodling on myself because I forgot to bring my drawing pad and offered the apprenticeship to us both.”

“I can see why,” Eddie said. “You do some pretty impressive work. Who was the friend? Robin?”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, no...I love Robin, and she is a lot of wonderful things, artist just isn’t one of them.”

Eddie laughed, too. “Yeah, okay. That’s fair.”

Steve picked up his gun and sat down on the rolling stool. “Nope, Max Mayfield. One of my nuggets, as Robin called them.”

Eddie blinked. “Shit, dude. She was my old tattoo artist? You two really apprenticed under Hop?”

Steve hummed. “Yup.” He turned on the gun and then shut it off again. “I know you said that you wanted it in your style, but can I add my own flourishes to it?”

Eddie cocked his head. “Yeah, sure. I liked what you did with Jeff’s tattoo, so yeah. Knock yourself out, man.”

Steve grinned. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

***

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

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#My writing #stranger things #steddie #tattoo artist steve #modern au #ladykailtiha writes

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