Featuring: David Cook, David Archuleta, Neal Tiemann, The Anthemic. With special guest star, Adam Lambert!
Rated: PG-13
Warnings for: Scary events, bad language, lots of UST among pretty much everyone listed, and some implicit hooking up. Oh, and David Cook meets Satan. Maybe.
Summary: A dark October night, a tour bus on a lonely road, and some
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BB, THIS STORY IS AMAZING. THE BAND DYNAMIC, HOW YOU GET THEM, YOUR ADAM/ARCH DYNAMIC, NEAL THE BARBARIAN, YOUR "THE DAY THE MUSIC DIED" SCENARIO, THE WHOLE THING. YOU GET IT, YOU GET THEM.
AUGH, KIND OF SHAKING. BETTER FEEDBACK ANON. BRB, REREADINGGGG
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THERE IS ONE PERSON IN THE WORLD who this story made sense to . . .yaaay!
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Um, bb, you mean Archie, not Adam, right? :P
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ILU, BTW ;)
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Excitement is EXCITING! Thank you so much for your detailed comments. The story is full of all these strands that fascinate me, but I wasn't sure would do so for others.
And my favorite sort of tale comes out of mundane splitting apart into frightening . . . I see you liked some of my favorite spots.
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I would discuss each thread with you, bb, because this fic, with all its themes and tropes and echoes, resonates on so many levels. I, um, may or may not have read entirely too much horror stories than entirely good for me! Who are your influences? I must know. Gaiman, King, Clive Barker?
AND, AND, "They'll play Time of My Life at your funeral, you know that?" THAT, MY DEAR, IS HOW YOU KNOW FROM EVIL.
Okay, here is me stopping from the gushing, I promise!
(ETA my Cookmann icon XD)
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And some Stephen King, too.
Whedon, which means really, Whedon and writing staff, too--Jane Espenson.
"They'll play Time of My Life at your funeral, you know that?" THAT, MY DEAR, IS HOW YOU KNOW FROM EVIL.
They've been at this game a long time, I figure. They know how to hit a musician where it hurts. :-)
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