#and when I see it I delete the fanfic from my life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

birdantlers · 9 months

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A heartfelt and grievously expanded-upon update to this—please, please read the whole thing if you can. reblogs much appreciated.

(DISCLAIMER, for all who are saying reasons like abusive parents/legal stuff/toxic ex/triggering memories/page got deleted/job/stalkers/bullying/[[insert any other shitty life thing]], This is not concerning that—personal safety & health ALWAYS comes first, and is worth more than any media ever could be. This is my biggest reason for defending that autonomy. I would be a hypocrite to say I hadn’t deleted triggering posts of mine or ones that got me in trouble with my family.)

it genuinely makes me sad and kinda upset when someone purges all their old art off the internet like. barring harmful content what if someone liked that. What if someone would have. And now nobody will ever know and it's just gone. even people's old invader zim askblogs or whatever getting deleted feels like a micro alexandria to me and that's just something I made up. I wasn't even thinking of a specific one it just stresses me out. Is this the autism I don't get why nobody else seems to freak internally abt it like I do. I see artists whose blogs I've never even looked at go like "man so glad I deleted all my old stuff it's so clean" or saying they throw out art from when they were kids I'm like. how are you not hurling. How is that not distressing that is literally your tree rings why would you do that. I want to see what's out there. people want to see it I promise someone out there likes it

...don't they??? Does everyone get quietly irrationally upset by this as me, or is this just hyperfixation/autism/some amalgam of the two. I'm not a hoarder or obsessive compulsive or anything like that so i wonder..

Anyways. reblog if you had a favorite amateur youtube animator in your childhood whose channel got nuked without a trace one day that you still think about.

I wanted to attach this video because it condenses my point very well. A TLDR of sorts. Please watch the whole thing, it genuinely changed the entire way I think about art as a concept.

(2nd vid is "Subjectivity in Art")

“The moment your art touches an audience, the ownership shifts in an irreversible way. [They're] not having an art experience with you and your intentions. They're having an art experience with the art object.

“You can't just burn your past; it's not even your past to burn anymore. It's other people's history as well. Whether or not you like it, that art is already bonded to somebody's soul, and if you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it.”

The digital age makes it very easy to distance or detach yourself from the impact your work has—be it art, fanfic, videos, even memes. Online content is as important to people now as any other media, if not more. But it's also by far the easiest, fastest, and most effective form of it to erase from public access. Media so unbelievably important to people and in general. Yes, you—with the 2010s purple sparkle dog speedpaint. I still think about that speedpaint all the time, because it was the first time i learned that you could draw on a computer, and I thought it was cool as hell. I still do.

I do wish there was a stronger culture of preservation and consideration for this, because every time I see people talk about snuffing their stuff because it doesn't personally resonate with them anymore, I just think ...what about all the people it did?

I've seen lots of people saying "get over it, it doesn't even matter," but it fucking does. It does matter. Even if I didn’t make it, even if I don’t have to deal with being the one who made it, even if I'm naturally inclined to be distressed by it—It still matters. And there’s nothing you could ever say to suddenly make it not matter, because there’s nothing you could ever say to make it not matter to me.

Don't devalue the act of creation. Don't dismiss something you made. It's out there, in people's thoughts and hearts and souls, and that is real. Even if you don't know it. Especially if you don't know it. Especially in a world where physical media is being snuffed out, the internet is constantly dying without any physical remains to recover, social isolation is rampant, and simply because independently produced content online is still media.

Fanfiction can hold equal or greater significance to someone as a book, but you can’t unpublish a book. Authors don’t have a button that can vaporize every copy of their work across all time, but fanfiction authors do. I’m not counting people who download fics either—when you buy a book, that transaction is over. But online, you have the power of unending transaction that can be terminated instantly at your will. The process of publishing fanfic vs. publishing a book may be different, but people’s connection to the art is the same intensity.

So yeah. I do get depressed about the Internet being a constant Alexandria, but the times I get the most depressed is when I click someone's page and see that all their work is gone because they're ‘curating a new aesthetic’ for their page or some shit. Or weeding out all the "ugly" art. Or just went on whatever the hell 'thrill deleting' is, because they just get a kick out of it.

Fuck it—yeah! It upsets me! I’m not wrong to say that. I’m saying it!

Under the cut, because it got long as shit! Also don’t worry the ending is way sappier and more ‘beauty of human nature’ vibe so it’s not all doom and gloom lol

What if that was someone's favorite art of that character. What if someone read that 'cringe oneshot' on the worst day of their life. What if that Warriors meme vid is still burned into a college student’s mind despite being gone for 10 years. What if it's actually not just you and the ones and zeros you rent out to the world—secure in knowing the original will always be on your computer for you to do whatever you want with it.

I really, deeply wish there was more of a general awareness of this, because even though social media can be used like a diary, that’s functionally the opposite of what it is. It’s social media. When you post, it’s no longer in a vacuum, even though you can’t see the real humans that content touches—often deeply.

Media is history. You shouldn’t burn that history just because you personally believe it isn’t worth saving.

Because it’s no longer just your personal opinion. It’s no longer just your personal work. it’s. history. Memory of media is not a suitable replacement for the media itself. If it was, we wouldn’t save anything at all. Nostalgia is an agent of that. The definition of nostalgia is grief for moments of the past that are inaccessible, and the biggest balm for that pain is accessing a physical reminder of those moments. That opinion of yours is no longer personal. It’s weighed against uncountable people across all time that your thing is ALSO personal to. People who would, and will mourn its absence.

How many times have you joined an older fandom only to discover that some of its most popular works are gone? How many times have you routed through random blogs looking for scraps people hopefully reblogged? how many times have you used Wayback machine desperately praying that a fan fiction or a YouTube video will be there? How many times do you look up crunchy old vines or YouTube videos or anime AMV‘s? How many times do you remember old fanfic.net sex that impacted you in middle school, only to shake your head and go ‘probably no point even looking.’

i mourn the absence. No, people can’t and shouldn’t have their agency over what they post revoked, but they should be conscious of that weight. If you’re reading this and getting extremely annoyed, and you’re not in the pink text above,,,, good.

I honestly do hope it gets under your skin. I hope it sits with you. I hope you feel it every time you hit that button, and whether or not you do hit that button—if you hesitate, if you remember this, even spitefully, I’ve done my job. I am howling into the void. And I may not want an answer, but I do want my anguish to be heard and remembered. Because it isn’t me just being melodramatic.

I know I sound that way writing so much, but if my favorite writing YouTuber can drop trow this week and go, "yeah, sorry, all my video essays from less than a year ago that you listen to in the car all the time? I'm "rebranding" my content so i deleted them. besides, my personal views don't really agree align with the analyses i did, or the techniques i taught in them anyway. Sorry if some of the literal tens of thousands of you used them, but I don't want to feel shackled to having youtuber "classics" tied to me”

….then i guess I'm just going to have to sound dramatic! That fucking sucks! Hours of work and knowledge gone! This was a new channel too. It’s very likely there’s no archive of any kind, because who would think someone who worked hard enough to write, record, and edit hour-long videos, would just turn around and nuke it all? I definitely didn’t see it coming, but I did just start a new screenwriting class a few weeks ago, so I’ll tell you at least one person is REALLY missing those fucking videos right now. Because a lot of them were about specifically screenwriting, which I know jack shit about. and that specific person’s pace, editing, and style of breaking down information was the best suited style I found that I could focus on and absorb. There’s no replacement for that. No alternative for his individual perspective. his jokes. his opinions.

No, they may not resonate with him now, but in this decision, he’s put up a big middle finger to everyone who might have. And he has like 100k subscribers! Those are confirmed supporters! Imagine how many silent and untethered observers are feeling this loss right now. Imagine how many will not have it in the future.

If he never posted them at all, we wouldn’t know we had it. It wouldn’t be a loss. But we did. We did have it. Until he decided that no, we didn’t, because he just happens to be the one out of millions of individuals holding the button to burn it in a hundredth of a second.

His personal work, the attachment I had to it, and the ways that it helped me are now just ripped away. I am one person out of millions, literal MILLIONS of people who saw and liked this content before it vanished. The soul has been ripped, the access severed, and by CJ’s (and my) definition, the art is functionally dead. Not for the YouTuber or anyone else lucky enough to save a link or download, but everyone else. From this point until the end of time, even if people even two weeks from now don’t know it. Even if someone who stumbles upon his channel today, doesn’t know it.

We only mourn the concept of Alexandria because we had some kind of scope for what was inside. Yes, maybe you got self-conscious and deleted your 12 year old deviant art account. Do you know who else is doing that?? THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS of other twenty somethings who ALSO feel self-conscious about their old socials. Art. Fanfic. One direction fan videos. anything.

Suddenly, an unquantifiable amount of information from your age group—an entire age group in 2012, is. gone. And we will NEVER know what’s been erased from that history. We will NEVER know what could have been significant to us ten years from now. Twenty years from now. A hundred years. A thousand.

You could have deleted a fanfic that would have been someone else’s new go-to panic attack distraction tomorrow. You could have deleted a video someone used to laugh at with their friend who died yesterday. When you delete something, you risk tearing a hole in unknowable personal histories.

The Internet isn’t just a big library of Alexandria. It’s a library containing libraries. And those libraries have their own libraries in those libraries have their own as well. libraries inside libraries, inside libraries, ad infinitum. To conceive the amount of destroyed history on the Internet is crushing.

And I just can’t help but I ask myself how in gods name people can choose to contribute to that, instead of reposting everything to trash heap alts titled “hall of shame” or some shit.

You can offload to alts. Put up disclaimers. Make password locked blogs, or dropboxes, or anonymous imgur dumps. Anonymous reuploads. Orphan fics. Make a playlist or linktree of unlisted videos. Cut off the watermarks. Delete all references to it on your main. Make a dedicated unlisted playlist. make a google drive. Make new portfolio sites. Delete any questions you get about it. Change pen names. Pretend it never existed.

Give a heads up.

Something.

But don’t. kill. the media.

The knowledge that our stuff is going to forever be tied to us is a cross we have to bear, but the responsibility that comes with putting it out there in the first place, can’t be ignored.

Anyway. I'm not trying to start conflict. This is not a bash on anyone, nor a call for witch hunts. Or anon hate, or blocks and unfollows or anything of that nature. I'm not wishing ramifications or hate of any kind on anyone who does wants to do any of this.

I'm also not guilt tripping— I am not saying that you should feel bad. I AM saying why it makes me feel bad. That’s not guilting, it’s a dialogue. One I personally feel is long overdue.

It's me yelling into the void: please consider the real people on the other side of the screen before you hit that button. Realize and know that whatever you're about to erase from history could be the most important thing in the world to someone.

Art is an experience. It's why we revisit it. If art and history simply lived in the matter and code of media, we would only need to look at it once. We wouldn’t put things in museums. We wouldn’t build libraries. We wouldn’t look up vine compilations.

If you're able, consider (and I do mean consider, this is not a call to action) not destroying that. And don’t shrug it off as some pretentious asshole venting on Tumblr. You only need to look in the notes and tags to see that it isn’t just me. it’s never just me, or you, or the pixels.

And even if you do shrug it off, then at least recognize that what you make matters. Whatever you think about it, if it’s out there, that's not your discretion anymore. If a tree falls in the woods and even one person is around to see it, it fucking mattered. Because it happened. Don’t mulch your tree rings if you don’t have to. Because if enough people do it, a whole forest is gone. Media is history, no matter whether you think it’s worth putting in a museum, or only has 30 notes.

Thousands of years ago, a child named onfim doodled on his homework. They’re crude, and everyone has the wrong amount of fingers, and they’re also priceless archaeological artifacts recognizable throughout the world.

the only thing separating Onfim’s doodles and your MS paint Pokémon doodles is time. The only thing separating your old MS paint Pokémon doodles from being a priceless artifacts, thousands of years in the future is time. Your creations are already priceless artifacts. No matter what you do, don't ever, ever deny that. It isn’t blowing up your own ass, it’s artistic and anthropological fact.

The mundane and the supposedly unworthy are often the first things lost to time, and that’s why they’re so precious. That’s why artists who were before their time are scorned first only to be celebrated later. Do you think they knew that was going to happen?? What if they nuked it? Many probably did! But now that’s happening exponentially and instantaneously everywhere, WITHOUT the artist having to destroy their only copy—which makes it way easier and more dismissable.

Sometimes, If you’re revolutionary enough, people will make an effort to preserve your work, but recognized and thoroughly recorded work is rare compared to unrecognized and thoroughly recorded work.

Sometimes something is beloved enough that it would be impossible for it not to go down in history, but even then it isnt a guarantee, and it’s rare. But if van Gogh burned all of his paintings in a fit of despair before his death, we would have no van Gogh. Because he wasn’t respected as an artist in his time, but that wasn’t what defined the worth of his art. The people after him did, because his art was still there for them.

If you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it. If you belittle your art, you belittle the very real relationships and emotions and revisitations people have with the media. You defy the inherent worth and weight of a creation. you created. That's effort. It's passion. No matter how flippant or unskilled or worthless you think it is, it matters. Because at the end of the day, you could have chosen to make nothing at all, and you didn't.

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Muting notifs

#artists on tumblr #Artistic #digital art #art history #anthropology #humanity #art discussion #art theory #skit yells

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cherriesxinthespring · 2 months

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WASTELAND, BABY!– ellie williams x reader

hi! I'm writing a new series that happens after the events of TLOU II. it's an enemies to lovers. A story about ellie eventually finding happiness and love again. She finds her light; and so do you.

Before you read the summary– please read this. Free Palestine. Do not consume tlou fanfics without educating yourself about its zionist themes.

this story is only posted on ao3. read it here.

*SUMMARY: You had decided to give life one last try. That was it. After the events in The Last of Us Part II, Ellie decides that the only way to find peace is to turn herself in to the fireflies. She finds a lead; they tell her to find you, a young woman who wanders around with no purpose. When she eventually does, you refuse to tell her where the fireflies are; if she finds them, everything that you did in your past would've been for nothing.

You embark on a journey together, walking through rain, snow and through the darkest places this cruel world has to offer. What neither of you expect, broken and traumatized, is to find the light again in each other.

"For the world is Hell, and people are on the one hand the tormented souls and on other the devils in it." (Schopenhauer, On the suffering of the world)

LINKS: read it here. playlist.

C.W/GENERAL TAGS: enemies to lovers, AFAB reader, eventual smut, gun violence, ellie kinda kidnaps you?, suicidal ideation (both ellie and reader), r! is wounded, PTSD and trauma, triggering flashbacks. canon violence in the game, depression. overall heavy themes, but happy ending i promise!

CHAPTER 1: One last try. You encounter Ellie. She follows the trail of blood you were leaving. You refuse to give her the information she wants. So, she drags you through the entire state of Montana. "You’re bold for someone unarmed and bruised, with a gun pointed to their head"

CHAPTER 2: Courage, dear heart. A small flame inside you ignites. you finally have a purpose; to mislead her, and to escape from her. You come up with a plan, and that involves earning her trust. just enough until she becomes sloppy. But you can't let her see your skills; she might see you as a threat. That plan quickly goes to waste when you encounter a large group of clickers.

“I could kill you right now,” she said, holding your own knife against your throat. Her knuckles were white from how much force she was using. Her features were almost unrecognisable. “Then you’d break your promise,” you said. “Promises mean nothing in this world.”

CHAPTER 3: No one left to sing to The rain doesn't stop, so you and this strange girl are forced to stay inside the cave. You're feverish, disoriented. After a conversation in which she mentions the fireflies, you decide to go through her journal to find answers. And you do.

"Are you a firefly?" she asked, like she had just read your mind, or you were thinking out loud. “not a firefly,” you said. you held back a laugh, but she saw the flash of a smirk. You, the reason why they were gone after Salt Lake City, a firefly. “Definitely not.” you paused. “are you?” you asked. “No.”

CHAPTER 4– Your blinding light (flashback chapter)

Summer 2033, Boston QZ You waited for Hannah to come to you. Life in the QZ was simple for you; being confined in between four walls, listening to your mom's Beatles cassettes, and sneaking out past curfew. That is, until your mom slowly starts abandoning you. "Maybe Hannah was the only one you had, after all"

CHAPTER 5– This darkness i'm condemned to

Ellie and you finally reach the nearest town. And your plan is successful; you finally lead her to danger. What you failed to account for is that this danger can harm you, too.

“took them out right?" you said, trying to test the waters. Trying to sound lighthearted, but failing completely at it. "Damn right you did," she said.

CHAPTER 6– The injury of finally knowing

taglist: since i impulsively deleted my old account, i'm tagging my old taglist. it's still me! the bitch that wrote the abby greys anatomy AU! you can still join my taglist here

@kissesskittens @zahraaziza @uraesthete @elsvrse @lonelyfooryouonly @ximtiredx @ellabsprincess @spaceshipellie @machetegirl109 @sc0ttstre3ted @taylarxse @carmellie @mayfieldsz @brooklynvwilliams @rinarchy @elliesgffr @wannabwanted @ellabsweet @sapphic-and-sappy @imyour-favouritegirl @andersonsgirl @heyabimina @novadanversss @mulan-but-gay @lez-zuha @abbys-sweat-wife @maribelo-o @peppesgirl

if your name is crossed out, it means I can't tag you– please check your settings and follow these steps!

dividers by @saradika-graphics.

#ellie williams #the last of us #tlou ellie #tlou fanfiction #tlou part 2 #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #the last of us part ii #enemies to lovers #canon universe #wasteland baby

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flowerandblood · 2 months

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ONE YEAR OF FLOWER&BLOOD

✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙

Exactly one year ago I posted my first chapter of the My Best Friend series. Nowadays I think it's something awful and I don't even try to edit it because I'd have to write everything from scratch, but I've left it for people who feel attached to the story. I remember getting about six likes and one comment on the first day and that huuuuge interest made me eager to create chapter 2 and then all the others.

I remember the excitement with which I waited and then replied to comments, not believing that people were actually waiting for the next chapter. At the time I was literally not following anyone, which was good because I wasn't comparing myself to anyone.

Eventually I felt I was ready to try writing other series and a few were successful enough that I decided to stay here permanently and create because it made me happy. Up to that point, everyone had been very kind to me and I started following more and more blogs, wanting to feel part of the fandom, to make friends with everyone. Now I know that was the biggest mistake I made.

Seeing things that didn't interest me, fanfic's whose way of writing couldn't draw me in, I felt frustrated, while at the same time fearing that if I stopped following someone, that person would see it as an affront. At the same time, The Impossible Choice, my biggest project until The Fall from the Heavens (which I'm currently editing and re-editing, while inserting on AO3), began to be written.

Just when I thought I had reached the pinnacle of my abilities (which wasn't true), I also started to clash with anonymous hate messages, probably the worst of which were those vilifying me and my husband, and those regarding my one-shot with Micheal Gavey. I know now that taking it personally and getting involved was my big mistake, and the fandom was shaken by drama that got out of hand.

I was a few steps away from deleting my blog at the time, but my husband talked me out of the idea (thankfully, as my stories aren't saved anywhere else − I'm only now moving them to AO3).

That's when I first realised that some people here I don't even like, and they probably don't like me. I wondered, why are we following each other then? Why are we pretending to have any courtesy? It was only later that I realised that to be considered someone's friend, you have to reblog their work and preferably agree with them even when they write hurtful things.

Since I've depleted my circle of those I follow to about 20 people, since I've blocked dozens of people and tags, there's been blissful silence (with the exceptions of when I write about behaviour in the fandom that I find toxic and someone accuses me of causing drama, but I'm used to it now). I've also never written happier than I do now.

Ideas come to me on their own, I don't feel uptight about what other big people will think of me, whether they reblog it, approve of it or not. I don't give a shit and life is beautiful! Although I can be emotionally unstable, I'm only 70 people short of crossing the next milestone of 3,000 followers, and that's BIG for me. It amuses me that I keep getting messages that someone is going to block me or stop following me, and you guys keep coming. It's gratifying.

I'm going to keep writing for you guys, and I'm sure during season two you'll also see my posts describing my impressions after the episodes in which I hope to involve my husband. I'll also keep you updated here on how I'm doing with my book I'm creating in my private life.

Apreciation

@ewanmitchellcrumbs

Ange. I know that sometimes I'm fucked up, but I want you to know that you've made this place so much more bearable for me that I can't imagine it without you. What I appreciate most about you is that you can talk and discuss, that you always try to understand the other side, that you are empathetic, warm and kind. I feel that, like friends in everyday life, we can also tell each other about things we disagree about, and there are not many people like that here.

On top of that, you are very talented and your stories are always a pleasure to read, even when they are short, you are able to build the plot and atmosphere perfectly, something I have always admired. Thank you for every kind word and understanding.

I still remember your first message to me via ask, referring to the fact that I didn't want to write a pairing with a mermaid because someone else was writing about it at the same time. My heart melted then, it was so nice!

@targaryenrealnessdarling

Liz, Queen of Angst! Your calmness and composure puts me in awe. You're disgustingly talented when it comes to writing and you have a super-sweet personality. When you started following me I began to squirm with delight, and when you started reblogging my stuff? My goodness!!!

@persephonerinyes

You've been engaging and reblogging my stories for as long as I can remember. Always involved, your thoughts make me smile. Thank you for being with me for so long!

@zenka96

You've been here with me since the dawn of time. You know that I love you. Your support from the very beginning really makes me feel like I have a friend here.

@huramuna

I am so proud of you! I remember your asks when I wrote Glass Cuts Deepest, your illustrations for me and your uncertainty about whether you should start writing yourself. I'm so happy for you and that you are so successful! You deserved it.

@black-dread & @aegonx

You are my favourite gif makers. Your work always leaves me in awe, you are amazing! I know how much work you put into it and somehow you make even the worst lit scenes look wonderful!

@summerposie; @0eessirk8; @melsunshine; @immyowndefender; @bellaisasleep; @kckt88; @thedamewithabook; @happinessinthebeing; @queenofshinigamis; @travelingmypassion; @mefools; @fan-goddess; @toodlesxcuddles; @ammo23; @troublesomesnitch; @mariahossain; @out-of-life; @apothe-roses; @heavenhatesme; @whitearemydarkestnight; @liv-cole; @blackswxnn; @echos-muses; @watercolorskyy; @at-a-rax-ia; @tssf-imagines; @snh96; @hiatuswhore; @exitpursuedbyavulcan; @darylandbethfanforever9; @the-dendrophile-bookdragon; @opheliaas-stuff @zaldritzosrose

Your comments and reblogs make me want to keep writing. You make me laugh, you comfort me and you support me. I know I'm definitely forgetting someone, but I want you to know that I love everyone who comments on my stories and there is nothing better for me than responding to your reactions and questions! I have known some of you for so many months that I truly consider you my good friends!

lottie-blue-star; aveatquevale-; aemondtargaryenwifey marvelescvpe; alphard-hydraes-blog; herejusttostan; li0nn3stuff; alexandrawho; vilmakamunen; angelinap09; theloveablestargirl; rose-blue-19; xxxkat3xxx; flosaureum; mandiiblanche; librawh0re; jasminecosmic99; ivvypg; rojocarnation; killmanduh; tokkiiidoll; wolfdressedinlace; angelofvivianne; nina2697; starwarsgirlsimmer1; katsucker; ipostwhtifeel; aemondsdelight; ilswemoon; tigrigri; pasta-rask; roselibrary; lystargs; gemini-mama; nikstrange; tempo-rary-fix; coffeeobsessedtrencher; gwuinivyre; dreamerbythewayx; diiickbrainn; mothmankit

And everyone else I missed and whose icons I would recognize from afar. I know that you have been with me for many months, often in silence or communicating anonymously. Your silent support and presence is something wonderful for me, knowing that you have been with me for so long and read all my posts!

Thankyouthankyouthankyou!!!!

#one year anniversary #celebration

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morallyinept · 8 months

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Writing For Ezra - An Overall Analysis Of Our Favourite Scoundrel’s Articulation.

I often see writers mention in their blog/fics that they’re worried or concerned about writing for Ezra because of his loquacious nature. As a fanfic writer it can be daunting to translate an already loved character into your works, without trying to alter their main personality trait. In this case, it’s Ezra’s way of talking that is his standout mannerism and the reason why so many have a soft spot for him.

So, I got to thinking and put together this, somewhat, deep dive into him and his talkative ways. I hope it proves useful for anyone tackling him for the first time (myself included), or even for the experienced Ezra writers already here, who are already killin' it. 🖤

If this is beneficial to you in any way, please kindly re-blog, and also tag me in any Ezra works you write because of it. I’d love to read your work and feature it on my Ezra fic recs list for others to enjoy too.

⚠️This will contain spoilers for Prospect, so if you haven’t watched it yet, then you might want to save this for later.

Ezra’s accent is Southern.

Ezra’s accent has been likened to a Texan accent with a side of ham. Ham meaning someone who enjoys performing or behaving in an exaggerated style. Not the pig meat. 🐷 And his accent and voice certainly does have that hamminess about it. Back in the day, approximately around 1882, the term ‘ham-fatter’ was used referring to a poor person who overacted. It was then shortened to just ham.

It was Pedro Pascal himself who gave this specific accent to Ezra. Although it is not confirmed in the film where exactly Ezra hails from, he is confirmed human. In the Prospect-verse there is no mention of Earth as we know it, but that’s not to say it doesn't exist or isn’t referred to by another name. The closest being Camrea or Lau in terms of similarities of planets with land and water. So there is a good chance that his accent stems as a direct result of his heritage from either Earth itself, or a planet just like it in The Fringe.

In the deleted scene with Ezra and Cee, Ezra reveals he has a brother. This is the only personal information we get from Ezra - and it was deleted.

Ezra says in the scene where he encounters Damon for the first time, "me and my partner feel we both deserve... satisfaction."

If you didn’t know already, the term ‘deserve satisfaction’ stems from the 17th century where duels were mostly single combats fought with swords. But then in the 18th century, the swords were commonly replaced with pistols. You’ve heard of the term ‘pistols at dawn’ right? Well to demand satisfaction means to restore one’s honour by demonstrating a will to risk one’s own life for it. Again, this originates from the Southern states of America, during such times where duels were prevalent.

Damon and Number Two actually have a duel-type shootout, which is how Damon dies (aside from Ezra putting him out of his misery).

So yes, Ezra is, in fact, a Texan space cowboy of sorts. 🤠

Edit: Whilst I can only find one source that states Ezra has a "Texan" accent (and it's a film review article, so not based in fact), many argue that he sounds Louisianan more than Texan. Either way, he's definitely Southern, so you can make your own mind up on where he hails from originally, as it's never actually confirmed. 👇🏻

Source of Article

Yes, Ezra is a rambler, but pay attention to the frequency of his actual rambling.

It would be easy to overdo it on the flowery language when writing for Ezra.

The fact that Ezra throws in some words that are not commonly used in everyday conversation, doesn't mean that he does it ALL the time. Try not to fall into the habit of writing paragraphs of archaic and wordy language, when sometimes a simple sentence is sufficient for him to get his point across.

Here are some examples where he speaks with simplicity in the film:

“How poetic.”

“The starter, if you don't mind.”

“Funny, I don’t see any mercs. Where are they?”

“This is so exciting.”

“You friendly with these fellas?”

“You got a field kit?”

“It seems I must.”

“Keep it creamy and it’ll be fine.”

See? Short and snappy sentences.

What’s in a name?

Names are important to Ezra; he uses names as a gentle threat. When he comes across Damon for the first time, he uses his name almost constantly:

“Nice to meet you, Damon. I'm Ezra.”

“Where’re you from, Damon?”

“Alright, Damon.”

“Damon, it has truly been a pleasure, but pleasantries pass, it’s time to get candid…”

“So how did you get here, Damon?”

“The starter, if you don't mind. Where is it? Don't make me root for it, Damon.”

“But Damon, if there is talk of the Queen’s lair, the excitement is momentary.”

“Damon, I have clearly underestimated you, I must stop doing that.”

“Damon… does this mean that the plan is off? You have me all hot and bothered up over the Queen’s lair, Damon.”

“It's a shame, Damon.”

Ezra uses Damon’s name 11 times in just the first few minutes of meeting him and his untimely death. A name is important for Ezra to gain the upper hand and to subtly manipulate and appear menacing, more so than he probably is. It’s also done to grab the attention of Damon constantly; to ensure that Damon’s focus is directly on him by mentioning his name continuously.

Later, when Cee won’t give Ezra her name despite him asking for it repeatedly, you can see the frustration this causes within him. Because he has no way of gaining influence over her without it.

He refers to her instead as “little bird, birdie, girl & oi, number 3.”

When he does eventually learn her real name, he uses it only once.

“Nice to meet you, Cee.”

He doesn’t use it again for the duration of the film as their relationship has evolved into an unspoken, mutual trust. Something he did not have with Damon and therefore used his name repeatedly as a way of asserting dominance over him.

☝🏻So, if you’re writing Ezra, don’t forget to use names in abundance, like he does. Especially if he doesn’t trust or like them.

Double Entendres.

Pay close attention to the possible hidden meanings inside Ezra’s words too. This might not be deliberate, but his face when he speaks and says certain things hints at a devilish playfulness about him.

A particular scene that stood out to me is when Ezra and Cee are at the Queen’s lair.

Ezra says, “somebody ought to give her a go… That's the price for a dry breach. My chem will calm the brine.”

Now, if you’ve a dirty mind like me, (😜 ha!) A dry breach could be interpreted as ‘a dry pussy’ and his chem is ‘his semen’ that will calm it, or moisten it up as it were. 😏 I like that he can speak with a double meaning, if you're looking for it, but of course this is subjective.

So, dirty talk from Ezra doesn’t always have to be directly on the nose.

Some more subtle examples are:

“Hello, sweetheart.”

“Hold it like you love it.”

“Slippery son of a bitch.”

His tone also changes when he wants to emphasise a point. When the Saters give him and Cee the juice in their tent, Ezra can sense Cee’s reluctance to drink it.

He knows it tastes bad, yet urges Cee to drink it, without insulting his hosts who he knows could be dangerous. His face changes; his features become sharper and serious as he says "it's good for you, cleanses the dust."

Only moments before he was smiling and jovial. 👇🏻

Cussing.

Ezra never swears, in the conventional sense, for just the sake of it. I get the impression he would find that kind of language lazy. Cussing/swears are saved purely to express his frustration or fear in the situation.

“Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh Shit. Oh Shit. Oh Shit.” - (Yes, 6 times he says it!) When he loses his arm. - Fear

“Slippery son of a bitch… No, no, no. Ah shit.” - When he's mining the Aurelac husks. - Frustration

When mining for the Aurelac where he can’t separate the gem from the blister due to his physical impairment of only having one arm, Ezra mumbles a long string of unintelligible words in frustration.

Despite listening to the audio over and over, I can’t fully decipher it, but some words I pulled out were: “cob spitters(?)... can fuck more nuggets(?)... in this sleep for snatch(?)…”

Who knows exactly what he is saying here, (if you know, lemme know) but he rambles quickly and incoherently when he swears; especially when frustrated.

He likes to fill the silence.

When walking with Damon, he keeps conversation flowing by questioning Damon about the corporate expeditions, and with Cee, he tells her about the channel rats. He seemingly can’t abide silence.

And this is prevalent when he first meets Damon, he says “I can't tell you how refreshing it is… hoo… to encounter another talker.”

It’s safe to say Ezra likes to talk. If you’ve not already grasped that yet. So make that ramblin' man chatter away.

Ezra's redemption shifts his language too.

Ezra fully admits he is not a good man to Cee. He does this first by blaming the way of life that they are thrust in.

“Why should I trust you? You stole from us. We did nothing to you.”

“That's The Fringe, girl.”

Later he confirms coldly he is indeed a killer when Cee tells him so.

“You’re a killer.

“I am. But are you?”

As time goes on, Ezra realises he is at fault for the death of Cee’s father.

“Well you can't... you can't think like that. If you go down that path. It's not good. If you need someone to blame, you blame me.”

You can see the shift in his language from being blunt and to the point in the beginning, to more accepting and gentler later on. Full character transition.

He also refers to Cee as his partner, rather than his daughter, when he is impersonating Damon to the mercs later on. His choice of words here is interesting.

This indicates he thinks more highly of her than he lets on; that she is equal to him. He soon thinks less of the Aurelac - the sole reason why he is on the moon - and more so of getting off the moon intact with Cee beside him. A complete metamorphosis from when we first meet him, and he's stealing Aurelac from Damon.

“You are not understanding me.”

“I say the terms have changed.”

“You’ll find a way if you want that buried treasure.”

“A ride for me and my partner on your handsome craft, or no deal.”

Actions speak louder than words.

Ezra’s movement is interesting, as too is the violence he engages in - it’s slick.

He slices the Achilles Heel first of the merc at the Queen's lair, thus rendering him unable to fight back or run for assistance from the others before ploughing him face first into the acidic hole.

Despite only having one arm, Ezra’s strength is still pretty impressive. He’s quick, experienced and brutal. And not opposed to fighting dirty to ensure his survival.

Ezra also has excellent aim with the thrower; he kills another merc with only one shot, and in the dark too. That’s pretty kick-ass when you think about it.

Describing not only his language, but also the way Ezra moves in your writing, will really make him leap off the page when you write him. Be that in an action sequence, or completely fucking you up between the sheets. 🫠

A man of few words in the end.

Ezra’s last words are for Cee:

“You grab the gun and you go. You can make it. Get outta here.”

He’s fully aware of his impending fate at this point and has accepted it. He doesn’t say anything else, not even when she comes back for him, suggesting their bond now doesn’t need a spoken word to cement it. It’s transcended verbal communication.

Even when in the safe confines of the pod ascending up to the sling back, Ezra doesn’t say anything, even though you can see he is awake.

☝🏻In the end, words are not always needed. Sometimes it's the things he doesn't say that has the most impact.

So there we have it, Prospectors. I hope this was helpful and insightful to you about writing for Ezra and how he talks.

He is my favourite Pedro Boy, and despite feeling that I know him pretty well as a character, the thought of writing him still brings me out in a cold sweat to some degree… 😬 So I can understand if you feel daunted by it too.

There are so many wonderful works already out there that are written fantastically and really captures the essence and the personality of Ezra. And if you’re thinking about writing for Ezra for the first time, please don’t be put off by it - he’s such a great character who can be thrust into so many different scenarios, and of course, you can also mould him to be your own creation.

That’s the great thing with fanfic and head canon - there are no rules. We all interpret characters differently. And that’s what makes reading about them so fun.

If you haven’t seen Prospect yet, I highly recommend it. Check out the Ezra deleted scene here too.

Also check out my Ezra specific fic rec list for further enjoyment of this dashing rogue from other writer’s points of view.

Ezra Thesaurus:

Loquacious. Flowery. Tincture. Drawl. Husk. Gravel. Gabble. Wordy. Babbling. Long-winded. Effusive. Droning. Garrulous. Gibberish. Multiloquous. Yakking. Muttering. Mumbling. Voluble. Cadence. Trib. Rambling. Glib. Clucking. Gregarious. Windy. Verbose. Prolix. Articulate. Fluent. Mouthy. Vocal. Opinionated. Drole. Gassy. Eloquent. Stylised. Chatterer. Logorrhoea. Word Vomit. Incessant. Spit-balling. Bleating. Clacking. Blabbermouth. Windbag. Motormouth. Harping On. Overzealous. Enthused. Mirthed. Crude. All Around The Houses. Effulgent. Airy-Fairy. Prattling. Harpsichord. Waxing Lyrical. Recounting. Din. Tone. Note. Music.

🖤

GIFS used by @uuuhshiny @perotovar @nicolethered @iamasaddie @pedgito 🖤

#ezra prospect #prospect ezra #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #ezra is my fav #writing ezra #hints & tips #ezra (prospect)#ezra x reader #ezra prospect x reader #writing advice #writing tips #helpful advice for writing #character writing #writing

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piosplayhouse · 29 days

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I don't know if you'll answer but I need to know the lore behind sexy times with Wangxian, like is it a fanfic? why do people hate the author??

It was the longest mdzs fic posted during its time in 2021 and gained extreme notoriety for its absurdly long tag list, frequent update schedule that consistently forced anyone scrolling any of its tags to see it at the top of their page, and escalating poor, racist, and trolling authorial behavior that ultimately culminated in the author virtual1979 being suspended from ao3 for a month because she posting an author's note saying she hoped that all her haters would contract covid and die. She deleted the fic from ao3 a little while after this happened, ig bc she wasn't getting enough attention anymore, but allegedly the thing's still up on dreamwidth under strict friendslock. The fan lore article goes pretty in depth about it:

The best summary for why it pissed people off so much is really just showing you these screenshots of what the fic looked like towards the end of its life on desktop and mobile (be warned opening the full image):

From my personal experience:

from 2019 up until around 2021 the fic really was just a normal-ish, if very strangely written and kinky, wangxian porn fic about them basically just fucking around post canon and enjoying day to day life. It updated pretty frequently and had a fair amount of tags because the author was literally just tagging anything that she wrote. But like the first few hundred, maybe even a thousand tags were pretty accurate to what the fic was because of that, and were relatively manageable for the first few years that it didn't pick up any attention really.

At some point in 2021 when cql was really starting to blow up online and the tag count was starting to pile up to the point of annoyance, the fic started receiving some comments that were just like "hey can you try to cut down on tags, I don't think it's necessary to be so specific as to tag 'Korean food' or 'eggs' or whatnot". The author did not share this idea, evidently, and instead built a grudge against commenters who would tell her to delete tags, subsequently adding more and more as time went on.

As the tag count and updates increased, the content of the fic did too-- it got a lot, lot weirder. I'm sure someone's saved it all somewhere but for reference it spun out into what I can only describe as like if Rick and Morty's plot was cut to be just the parts of the show with underage/incest plotlines with All Tomorrows level sex dystopian world building exclusively to elicit the most visceral audience reaction possible. Around this time is when more people started to notice the fic and its escalating tag issues, leading them to leaving more comments complaining about it, leading to the attention seeking author spitefully adding more tags. Around this time is when she also started adding fake tags that didn't apply to the story whatsoever (sorry to disappoint, "talking vagina" was one of those. I did check) just to boost the count, take up more space on people's screens, and bait people into commenting hate for attention.

By this time, it had become a fandom-wide annoyance as she had begun to tag entirely unrelated ships, therefore putting the near-daily updating titanic of a fic at the top of any mdzs-related tag. People were outraged about this, and calls came for ao3 to step in. Ao3 waffled around for a bit as there was no official rule at the time that imposed a tag limit, so there wasn't established ground to ban virtual1979 (who btw many people suspected of being 40 whole years old due to the username and allegedly some other internet sleuthing on Facebook or something). Meanwhile, she began to tag other fandoms-- tgcf, svsss, BTS, basically anything that would get a lot of attention and draw hate with the advent of The Monstrosity suddenly drowning out all other recently updated fics of the targeted fandoms.

People had been trying to retaliate without ao3 action, though, by coding their own themes/skins that would allow someone to block a user or work and other fic writers made their own parody, the "bland times with wangxian" collection, which were minimally tagged sfw shortfics typically featuring wangxian just doing laundry or things like that. A good amount of them were actually like just fics where wwx would explain to lwj how to install custom ao3 themes and block fics that were taking up too much space on his screen. Imo it was pretty funny, but these also sparked some controversy as people disagreed with fighting annoyance with more annoyance to people trying to find content.

Either shortly before or after ao3 staff said they'd step in due to an insane amount of reports and backlash, I forgot which atp, virtual1979 began perhaps the worst tagging spree of the fic's life by changing the title, many of the tags, and the summary to a slew of racial slurs, sexually explicit imagery, and other generally offensive statements. I'm pretty sure this came after the fic was temporarily hidden once, as this update gained considerably less attention than the rest of the tagging saga, but people were still rightfully pissed about it. Ultimately, like I mentioned before, the author was then suspended for a month for wishing covid and death on her haters, and attention seemed to die down during this time to the point where she didn't really fight much more when her suspension ended and deleted her account and the work shortly after. Again she seems to have moved to dreamwidth, but most have forgotten her and I'm not sure if her presence is public at all on there. But that's the story of the worst mdzs fic ever written

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wrongcaitlyn · 2 months

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okay fuck so i got an anon ask for solangelo fic recs and then i made a draft on my phone but then deleted it bc i wanted to type it out on my computer but then that deleted the ask too so!! hopefully this reaches the anon i apologize deeply for losing your ask😭

but anyway. SOLANGELO FIC RECS. ALWAYS. ANYTIME. I HAVE SO MANY

so first of all if you wanna check out my ao3 i have a bunch of recs in my bookmarks (57 solangelo ones im pretty sure)

but here are some of my favs

i'm put in awe (of something so flawed and free) by CordeliaRose (@cordelia---rose)

archaeologist!Nico & trauma surgeon!Will AU. this fic is. ohmgyod. nico's internal dialogue is just absolutely perfect in this fic and i laughed so hard and god it was just so beautifully written?? but also solangelo are literally so cute. like. ahglskdf. i gotta reread this actually but anyway (also anything by this author, absolutely hilarious, such good writing)

dumb, dumb love by thegoldenappleofdiscord

five times nico and will are dumb and in love, and the one time they are totally 100% dead serious. i love a good outsider's pov, and this fic is just gorgeous. it's a bunch of different perspectives into solangelo, and it's pure fluff, and it's got some of my favorite solangelo quotes (like, when i read fanfic i screenshot parts i rlly like and i practically screenshotted this entire fic), and their characterization is just so so accurate they're so so in love

paris by ethannku (@ethannku)

Nico has a travel YouTube channel. And a crush on one Will Solace. i'm such a sucker for socmed au's and this one is done SO so well. my all time favorite. and it's sequel too!! the formatting i am in awe of, but other than that, it's just a really good time and i just love all the little details. i've reread this too many times to count and was SO excited when a sequel was published, and i can only hope that there's more to the au in the future!! (also this author writes incredible solangelo fics and even more valgrace fics which i recently just bingeread and are soo good)

Perfect Places by buoyantsaturn (@buoyantsaturn)

“My name’s Will,” he started - so far so good - but then continued, “and I guess my favorite food to cook would be, um, frozen pizza.” Was Nico only attracted to idiots? this one's fucking hilarious. i can't even put it to words like their dynamic in this fic is so funny and yet so cute and nico is honestly just like. shocked that will is somehow still alive?? will's a safety hazard. but also piper and jason in this fic are so funny too, it's honestly just such a good, fun read (and, once again, this author's incredible. read everything by them)

I Can't Help It If You Look Like an Angel by the_oncoming_stormaggedon (@lordstormageddidnt)

Will Solace is a pre-med student whose friends run a true crime podcast called "Nothing to See Here". Nico di Angelo, despite not realizing he's a missing person, is the subject of one of the episodes. They meet by chance in a random bar, and shenanigans ensue. i mean, if it's got a taylor swift title, i'm already sold. and then it's part of a series called "Hey Stephen is a solangelo song and i will die on that hill" which is the realest thing ever?? but ASIDE from that, i could honestly rec this entire series (+ the other series it's a part of, "Nothing to See Here" which is all part of the same au) and also everything by this author - it's hilarious, i just love the premise, and the writing is so good!! and hey stephen is a solangelo song, thereby reinforcing my "fearless is will's favorite album ever of all time and i will die on this hill" argument

Even When the Music's Gone by the_oncoming_stormaggedon

It's the 74th Annual Hunger Games, and Nico and Will are the last two tributes alive. haha this is pure angst. just gutwrenching angst. love a good hunger games au and some MCD!

can i handle the seasons of my life? by buoyantsaturn

“I think that most people your age finished high school, and whether they knew what they wanted to do with the rest of their life or not, they went to college. That was their version of ditching everything they knew in order to find themselves. Maybe it’s time for you to stop taking advice from other kids who grew up the same way you did, and take it from someone who used to be normal.” FAME AU FAME AU FAME AU FAME AU i mean, not REALLY about the fame aspect of it, but i still love it so so much. will's essentially a nepo baby turned not-nepo-baby turned college student and nico's naomi's driver, and there's even... there's EVEN A VERY BRIEFLY IMPLIED POLLEN. yeah they're relationship is just so cute in this and i love the au and i love how it's written and ugh i need more fame au's in my life

so it turns out teachers don't live at school by RegretfullyRegretful (@marbleheavy)

Nico's TA and students are determined to figure out something, anything about him. Of course, it would all just be a lot easier if they asked. Either way, Professor di Angelo is decidedly a lonely hermit. (Someone should really tell his husband and baby that) this was one of the first solangelo fics i ever read, and it's just. so. funny. another outsider's pov bc i love it, and just... the assumptions abt nico, the fluff of solangelo, and then their story of how they got together is so...ahhsdlkjs this author is just a master at tooth-rotting fluff go read everything they write

my lover's the sunlight by demigodbeautiies

Figure Skater Nico di Angelo has a run in with Ice Hockey Player Will Solace. It doesn't go too smoothly, but then again - when does it ever? OLYMPICS AU. FAME(ISH) AU. IM OBSESSED THIS IS WRITTEN SO WELL and like... the very brief part where it feels a lot like a fame au like i just i'm obsessed can you tell. the writing is just beautiful in this, i love nico's internal dialogue, and... i mean, it's an olympics au. ofc its perfect

The Stolen God by TsarinaTorment (@tsarinatorment)

Python is defeated. The prophecies are restored, and Nero has fallen. Apollo has not been seen since. His trials are over; why isn’t he back on Olympus? okay so. this is a bit of a longer fic. and it's a post-toa, pjoxmcga crossover, and it's not *entirely* focused on solangelo - but when i tell you that this fic, if i weren't reading it on ao3, i would truly and full-heartedly believe was a real life published novel - i am NOT LYING. i rec'd this to my friend right after i read it bc i was just like so so obsessed with it and it's literally just. the plot?? is insane. i'm in awe of the author, bc this isn't even the only novel-length fic that they've written with an insane plot too (their fic Eclipse is also phenomenal, but it's more focused on apollo and hades so i didn't rec it here) there's some fierrochase here, lester being lester, and some very very very cute solangelo! and meg! i think sometimes you read a fic and you're like "oh, shit, that could be a novel, and i would think it's better than some actual novels i've read" and this is one of them

(Please Don't Let Me) Fade Alone by TsarinaTorment

Please. Don't let me. the summary's really short here so it's basically that will gets very very very injured and then apollo saves him (rip, i'm sorry, i suck at summaries) once again this isn't necessarily nico focused... it's much more will & apollo. this author writes the absolute best stuff for the apollo cabin, genuinely, if you love will/cabin 7/apollo PLEASE read everything they've ever written but this is just so angsty and the hurt/comfort is so real and goddd it's so good

he was seen on occasion (pacing the rocks, staring out at the midnight sea) by stargirltv

Nico di Angelo is a completely normal eighteen year old. He attends high school, has a socially acceptable amount of friends for a social outcast and has been in a relationship for the past four years with the guy he’s pretty sure he’s going to marry. He also happens to be the world's biggest bedroom pop artist, ‘Hell’s Angel’, with a fan base that will stop at nothing to uncover his true identity and a Father that continually pushes him to be better. His boyfriend freaking out under every single one of his tweets is making it a bit easier for them to figure it out. so. fame au. y'all already know the premise of this is just absolutely hilarious and the interview?? the posts?? will just being will and i absolutely love his characterization?? and the friend group?? this is one of the funniest things ever but also just written so well anddddd yes yes yes it's a fame au POPSTAR NICO RIGHTS except he's not *really* a popstar in this one but like close enough oh AND it's a taylor swift title??? like this fic was made for me basically

okay that was MUCH longer than intended but i hope you enjoy some of the fics on here!! pls let me know if y'all ever want more recs i read literally so many fics - and if you guys ever want to give me any recs, feel free to do so! as of today, i have read *checks fic tracker bc i'm obsessive and need to keep track of everything* about 7.3 million words of fanfic this year. and that's actually less than normal (for me)

also if anyone reads patrochilles please read this fic it's literally been in my head nonstop for the past few weeks since i've read it and it's one of the best things i've ever read and like holyshit if you read patrochilles read it read it read it

#wrongcaitlyn #fic recs #solangelo #ao3 #will solace #nico di angelo #pjo

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vsaintsin · 18 days

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Writeblr Re-Intro

Yo! I'm V Saintsin. Or V or Vin or Saintsin or whatever you want to call me that sounds right on your tongue. I'm a self-proclaimed Social Media fumbler who got a late start to the party and has never quite figured it out. I hate how hipster and edgy it sounds to say "I'm bad at social media" but like I used to work with some people who actually managed the social media accounts for the business we worked for and there were rules and whatnot and damn, I think online media is just not my medium. That being said, here I am! Hah

I'm an author and general mess who's hoping to be the miracle man (somebody who makes a living writing silly little stories). I do use a pseudonym but please hear me out when I say I didn't realize how edgy it sounds, it just has some sentimental value to my personal life. I'm so sorry that I sound like I'm in my emo phase HAHA

About me -

He/Him Transguy from the American Midwest (arguably the south, depending on who you talk to, but the older people still say "Sodi-pop" and "ope").

I'm dysautonomic, bendy, permanently sleepy, and a survivor of Crappy Doctors Who Suck At Doctoring.

I like DnD, Pathfinder, Baldur's Gate 3, Cyberpunk, Dragon Age, and other things in that vein.

I do make art of my stories and characters (Tablet is currently not working so I'm in a dry spell).

My writing background is predominantly ancient, dusty RPs from as far back as the foopets days and fanfic writing on Quizilla - I am an old and wizened elder of the net.

My formal education was music performance and behavioral neuroscience, I don't really know how I got where I am.

This is not my first rodeo with tumblr but it is the first time I have anything to SAY instead of just lurking.

In the event of malfunction, you can put me outside for 5 minutes and I'll probably factory reset.

My existence as I know it hinges on a massive number of sticky notes plastered throughout my room.

What I'm lookin' for -

Idk, whatever? I'm down for most things. Did you write it? Cool, let me see. I'm not too bent on genre or anything, just fascinated by the art of storytelling.

A bit tentative with fanfiction but that's just because if it's not a fandom I'm familiar with I am rather clueless about what the hell is going on and if it's a fandom I am familiar with I HUNT DOWN THE DEEP LORE.

I like art a whole lot, including fanart. Also art advice, love seeing things from different perspectives and learning something new.

Mutuals, really, for any reason. Building better connections on here, getting to know people. I am hideously bad at this but I try.

What I write -

Science Fiction with heavy subjects that matter to me - trigger warnings on a story-by-story basis.

High Fantasy (eventually books I think?) characters and their backgrounds for DnD and Pathfinder - I have been tempted to share these to help people get ideas or just for free use?

Things that I delete because I have crippling imposter syndrome and publishing makes me nauseous (doin' it tho).

Stories that I hope will make people feel less alone or that people could relate to, stories that I wish I had when life was worse and I was reaching out for anything I could find to keep me afloat, stories that try to be critical of things that SUCK in a way that's any helpful.

Lots of curse words and cussing (that's just how people talk 'round here), dubious science, things that I hope might make you cry but in a good way though.

Character-Driven stories that revolve more around the development of the person and less around the plot itself if that makes sense.

I've put blurb things below for my primary project/series which features a grumpy, queer, 37-year old chain smoking Frenchman and his misadventures with life and love and unbridled rage. If any of that sounds cool stick around and hang out? (This part is a plug bc I did a thing and I'm proud of it) And if my books sounds interesting the first one is 99 cents on Kindle and you just need a phone and a free app to read it!

THE SECRET OF LIFE (Published) - Sci-Fi/Psychological Thriller, Bi M Lead, Lovers to Enemies, AI but the oldschool cool kind not the real world thing that's stealing our future

Carlisle-Trystan Antoinette is a mercenary on a hard road, navigating life and death itself in an infinite cycle started by powers above his understanding. He has one mission - warn The Dianican Space Station of the coming threat and put a stop to a war that would encapsulate the whole of the Sol System before it can ever begin. Unfortunately for Carlisle, reality is a tenuous thing, made up only by our understanding of it. At least, according to his Psychiatrist, who tells him that there is no war, that he was never a mercenary, and that what Carlisle is experiencing is a severe but manageable psychotic break. Stripped of his combat enhancements, his bio monitor, and everything he's every known, Carlisle has a decision to make. Does he give in to the thoughts and memories, so real that he can almost taste them, or does he live a life of comfort and ease, returning to a husband and daughter that he left behind?

TWs: Domestic and War Violence, suicide, rape, medical trauma, grief, drug use

THE SILENCE OF ANGELS (Due July '24, TSoL 2) - Betrayal and Rage, Learning how to love again slow-burn romantic subplot, Learning how to Dad, A general inability for any one thing to just go right

(Quick Rough Blurb that offers no spoilers for TSoL) Making connections isn't easy for somebody who's accustomed to burning bridges. Isolation has always been Carlisle's mantra for surviving his life. Playing a role comes second nature, pretending to be the man that everyone else wants to see in him. When an old friend is murdered Carlisle finds himself as the primary suspect with all evidence pointing to him so clearly that even he calls to question what he is capable of. Unwilling to believe that he could commit such a heinous crime, Carlisle sets off to find the truth of his friend's death - was Carlisle framed or does he truly have the capacity to bring such harm upon those he loves? Old and new bonds will be tested, faith broken, and the future of everyone called into question as lines are drawn and sides are picked.

TWs: Violence, mentions of SA, graphic character death, more grief, more death

I don't know what else to say... Later!

#booklr #lgbt fiction #writeblr #writeblr intro #authors

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aemondtargaryenonlyfans · 26 days

Text

Fandom can be overwhelming. And a ton of writers surely can agree that it puts an immense pressure on your shoulders you sometimes struggle to take care of.

And it was like that for me quite some time ago. Back when I started writing, I was a half-baked writer and even less experienced with fandom etiquette in general. I just stumbled into fandoms, not really knowing what it all was about. After posting my first fanfic that was based on a role play storyline a former friend and I had, and seeing how well it did, I got lost in the rush of attention and interaction as well in the people asking for a part two and what not. I am wiser now, and things like that don‘t affect me anymore (honestly), but back then, it led me to resort to shitty things to be able to post stuff as quickly as possible.

And that‘s plagiarism.

Many, many (traumatic) things have happened to me in the years before that, and while that‘s no excuse, knowing it might give an insight of what‘s been going on with me.

Just so you understand, it all has happened more than a year ago, I got called out by the original author and very quickly deleted the few things related to it. I have also not done it again since then, but it has still happened. I have lifted a good bit of that writer’s things of a series I truly enjoyed, yet it didn’t help with my anxiety. But I still received recognition for it and should feel good, right? It felt nice, right? No, no it didn’t.

I refused to say it out loud, because I was ashamed and afraid, and should have known better back then (although there was no way for me to know. I was inexperienced in writing, fandom, and some life things in general). But with all the fandom bullshit going on now, and these informations in the hands of the wrong people, I deem it most fitting to admit it now to free myself of that burden and take back my power. There are screenshots where these people admitted they wanted to call me out based on the apology doc I made to inform them, but couldn’t simply because they didn’t have any access to it anymore, and how they made fun of me for it — while they also called me nasty things. And on top of that, these people went around and told my secret to several people. While I trusted them to keep quiet, they always claimed there would be other people I told that would definitely spill the secret, but these people didn’t. It were them.

I am by now way justifying what I did, I don’t want to do that. But it‘s meant to finally show my responsibility for that mistake. I‘m an adult, yes, but that doesn’t mean I am immune to making them. I am still learning, and with this, I‘ll take a step back from writing for I don’t know how long. Could be a few days, weeks, months or until season two airs.

Thank you for reading, I’m sorry, and lots of love,

Laura.

Unfollow me, unlike my stuff, stop supporting me: do whatever feels right for you. I don’t blame you. But it‘s been done, and I’m sorry for it. There‘s nothing more I can do to make it better.

I won‘t shut down my anons. So, if you have something to say to me now — feel free to do it.

#laura talks 🐉#I apparently have no grasp of English #so if there are any mistakes — idc #this is going to blow up on discord i just know

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cielie-voss · 3 months

Note

I usually ignor ficus when I see rockstar!eddie but I’ve thought of something. What about reader x rockstar!eddie where you have worked with other bands before in some way so you know those members would never be reliable relationships so you avoided at all costs. But when Eddie meets you and falls hard. He tries so hard to make sure you see that he has never been and would never fall into that stereotype of a rockstar in those times of the 80s. He was truly only passionate about the music . Not even caring if he ever got famous. That’s not his intention like how most bands back then, their members goals were just to get their ducks wet by as many desperate groupies as possible.

So with you he really tries to win you over so hard, and finally you let your walls crumble for him and he really does prove to you exactly how truth he was from the moment he met you.

No sex and drugs - just rock'n'roll

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x guitarist!Reader

A/N: thank you so much for this request! Took me a while to figure out how I wanted it to be, started over 4 times and accidentally deleted my favorite attempt but here we are! 😄 Hope you like it! 🫶

Warnings: rockstar au, a little bit fluff, some kind of enemies to lovers, some curse words, alcohol consumption, drunk reader, mentions of reader being used by men, smoking, pizza with pineapple (I think this deserves to be mentioned here), not proofread.

Bonus points to everyone who notice my little easter eggs. 😅

Wordcount: 9.9k

Taglist: @violettsoul

If you want to be tagged in coming fanfics or if you want to request something, feel free to send me a dm or an ask. 🥰 Likes, comments and especially reblogs are always welcome. 🤗

Masterlist

The road called your name again.

Well, it wasn't exactly your name but rather the name of your and your cousins band - The Sleepless. You’ve been lying in your bed, awake, for at least two hours and watched the dust dancing like little fairies in the golden sunbeams, that successfully fought their way through the gap of your thick curtains.

Ironic, isn't it?

It was still early in the morning, the bustling life of the city was still deep in slumber, with only the occasional roar of an engine cutting through the silence. Unable to find the sweet bliss of some desperately needed sleep, you were alternately watching the fairies dancing in the gentle rays of the rising morning sun and the miserably slow ticking of your clock, which was enthroned above the door and of which you were not quite sure whether the time it showed was correct.

The shrill beeping of your alarm clock saved you from this never ending misery. You sat up and let your legs dangling off the edge of your bed for a moment as you stretched your back. Yawning, you slowly slid off the edge and dragged your feet over to the little corner you called kitchen.

The screeching of the floorboards echoed like a disgruntled sigh from the naked walls and the worn out carpet you had bought at a flea market ages ago offered little protection against the cold that radiated from the wooden floor and crept through your feet into your legs. You couldn't say exactly how long the heating had been broken, or whether it had ever worked at all. But the constant cold wasn't really bothersome for you, as rarely as you were in this apartment. And yet the thought of returning to your home after another stressful tour and not to another hotel room seemed much more appealing. Although a hotel room would be much more financially affordable than this apartment, which was furnished with mismatched furniture from flea markets, dried flowers on the windowsill and a tap that was like a round of Russian roulette - you never knew exactly when it would next decide to jump off the edge of the sink and give whoever dared to touch it an unwanted shower.

The smell of coffee slowly filled your little apartment. You watched the dark, steaming liquid as it dripped, drop by drop, into the oversized and absurdly ridiculous looking cup, the handle of which was too small, to stick a single finger through and was painted so hideously that it could almost be described as an abstract work of art. It would certainly have been pretty, with its unevenly sized flowers and smiley-faced butterflies that were almost creepy, if one had made even the slightest effort. But what blame could you possibly give your elementary school self for this trash? Drawing, let alone any other kind of craft, was never one of your strengths. The only thing your clumsy fingers could do was play the guitar.

After you gulped down your minimalistic breakfast, you rushed into your bathroom. The hot water ran down your body, washing the night from your skin as you hummed a new tune that had found its way into your mind and was gnawing there like a terrier.

“I have to write this down straight away,” you promised yourself, but as soon as you stepped out of the shower, now standing in the fog of your hellishly hot shower session, the melody escaped as quickly as it came.

Scowling, you got ready, plaited your wet y/h/c hair into a simple braid so it wouldn't stick across your face, slipped into your favorite jeans, a faded T-shirt and comfortable shoes that would carry you from gig to gig over the next few weeks. You threw a jacket over your shoulders, grabbed the suitcase, shouldered the guitar and let the door close behind you with a loud click. The keychain, which consisted of more pendants than keys, jingled loudly as you locked the door.

The hum of the city, now gradually awakening, echoed through the streets of Los Angeles; a soundtrack that accompanied your departure into a new adventure, a new tour. You would be away for some time again. But to be honest, your apartment never quite felt like home and probably never will. But what does home even mean? Oh boy, let’s not open this box.

Spending the time with your cousins, the three goofy guys you grew up with and were more like brothers for you, always felt more ‘home’ than being in your actual home.

When you reached the parking lot you were loudly greeted by your cousins, as if you hadn’t seen them in ages. But you haven’t seen them for only three days.

What drama queens …

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile creeping upon your lips as all three of them tried to hug you at the same time.

“Whoa! Take care of that guitar!”, you admonished them laughing.

"Excellent!" Rick, the tour manager, clapped his hands as you joined the already waiting group. “Now that everyone’s here, we can finally get on the road. Are you guys excited?”

Oh god, that was too much enthusiasm for an early morning. And by the groaning of everyone else, you knew you weren’t alone with that opinion.

Your luggage was taken by the driver and stored into the bus that would be your home on wheels for the next few weeks. But as he was about to take your guitar, you pressed it against your chest, making clear it wasn’t going anywhere.

“Soooo,” someone snuck up behind you, “and you are the next Stevie Nicks they say, huh?”

You turned around and looked at a guy from the other band, Corroded Coffin. His face was framed by wild, dark curls and his brown eyes sparkled for a moment with something like delightful anticipation. A mischievous smile danced on his lips as he cocked his head and examined you closely from head to toe.

"Well, I wouldn't dare say that," His eyes snapped back up to your face when your soft voice sounded, "But I think I can fairly say that at least I won't be the next Cyndi Lauper." Was that a joke you had just made? You weren't necessarily the kind of person who cracked a lot of jokes, as a lot of people didn't understand your type of humor. But the guy in denim jeans and studded belt seemed to unexpectedly appreciate your humor.

"God forbid! The world wouldn’t be able to tolerate another horribly squeaky voice like that. Not to mention those ridiculous lyrics. I mean - " He cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes as if quoting the lyrics would cause him physical pain, " - The hour is late, don't you want me baby? Through your garden gate. Really? I even write better lyrics when I'm drunk." A hoarse giggle escaped his throat and you couldn't suppress a shy giggle either.

“Hi, I’m Eddie,” he introduced himself without further ado, relieved that you also seemed to find his joke funny, and offered you his hand.

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you Eddie.” You shook his hand and couldn't help but notice the fancy rings that adorned his fingers. But before you had the chance to take a closer look at them, Chad, your cousin and drummer of your band, hurried you inside the bus.

A brief fight about who would take which bunk broke out among your cousins. But instead of joining their childish behavior, you simply threw your guitar on the bunk you found most appealing.

“Hey!” Doug, the lead singer and oldest member of the band declared upset. “That’s not fair! Who said you could just claim that bunk!”

“Isn’t it ‘Ladies first’?”, you asked, smirking as you let yourself down on the rigid mattress.

“Oh come on, you’re not a lady,” he laughed but you just shrugged, not even thinking about giving up your bunk. You heard a muttered ‘Princess’ from them as you began to make yourself comfortable, but you couldn’t care less. Being the only female sometimes had its perks.

Since it was still early in the morning, you decided to take a nap, but the smell of coffee woke you up after an hour, followed by Cliff’s “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Oh, please Cliff, don’t give her a reason to think she’s an actual beauty.”

“Shut up, Doug,” you sighed but took the cup Cliff handed to you. You took a sip of the steaming hot coffee and wrapped your hands around the cup.

“So when’s the next stop?”, you wanted to know after you took a look at your watch.

After Chad studied the leaflet with the exact time schedule of the tour, he answered: “We should be at the location tomorrow morning at 8 am.” He turned the piece of paper, trying to find any other information. “God, I hope we’ll take a break soon. I won’t survive without a cigarette until tomorrow morning.”

To everyone's relief, later that day the buses pulled over to a rather abandoned parking lot for a quick break. Being crammed up in a bus for hours with you slightly hyperactive and childish older cousins could be seen as some sort of torture. From burping contests to silly bickering, you weren’t spared of the usual bullshit today. So when the bus stopped and the door opened, you literally fled outside. The fresh air filled your lungs and you thanked god for the break. You loved your cousins, really, but they could be a nuisance.

“Finally managed to escape the madness, huh?” You could hear the smile in the voice of the guy who sneaked up on you. You weren’t expecting someone to come up to you for a chat, so the sudden sound of this guys voice startled you.

“Jesus christ!”, you screeched out in surprise and turned around to see Eddie's amused face.

“You can call me Eddie,” he winked at you. “Little jumpy, huh? Adorable.”

“Are you done with this?” You weren’t on the road for a day and yet the Rockstar was trying to flirt with you. Must be a new record.

“What? I - uh,” Eddie stuttered surprised, his eyebrows curled up in a frown.

“Oh, so you already met.” To your surprise, it was Cliff who saved you from another flirting attempt from Eddie. You were about to answer ‘Unfortunately’ but figured this would probably ruin this whole trip beforehand. So you decided to just nod and shut your mouth.

You hated rock stars. Ironic, huh? Since you were the guitarist and singer of a band, soon to be a rockstar too. Most of the guys didn’t care a lot about the music as soon as they got famous. The moment they were cheered by fangirls, all they cared about was to get as many girls as possible into bed. They never missed the opportunity for a small, insignificant quickie, took advantage of their status to get women into bed, only to then push them out of bed after a short bit of fun in order to seek confirmation from the next slut. Playing with women to boost their egos was more important to them than their music, the one thing they got famous for. At some point, you thought they just used music to get famous so they could bang sluts; it wasn’t about music from the beginning. And now, here was Eddie, seemingly just like the rest of them, with his charm and his smile, trying to play the same game. But you weren't going to fall for it. Bitches always know, and you weren't about to become another notch on his bedpost. You were pretty sure he was just another one of those bastards, flirting with you for his own amusement and validation, to eventually get you into bed like so many others before.

In the last few years that you had been working in the music industry, you had experienced many pick-up attempts from a number of musicians. Both when you initially accompanied the bands as an assistant to the tour manager and during your recent time as an opening act with your band; you were not spared the pick-up lines.

In the beginning, when everything was still so new and exciting, you went for it, felt flattered and unfortunately fell for the charm of some of the musicians. It would probably be an exaggeration to say you fell head over heels in love, but at least a handful of the musicians swept you off your feet. But every time you had to painfully learn anew that musicians, especially rock stars like Eddie, were all bastards. Sex, drugs and rock'n'roll - that was the motto they lived by.

Obviously, your aversion to rock stars was merely a reaction to the many times you had been hurt, exploited and betrayed. Painfully, you had to learn time and time again that it was probably a pathological habit of these guys to use women to confirm their tiny egos and were incapable of anything like a lasting relationship. And this Eddie was no exception.

“Y/N, this is Jeff, he plays the bass,” Cliff pointed at the guy next to him, a tall guy with dark skin and a smile as sweet as honey, “Jeff, this is Y/N, she’s our guitarist and second singer.”

Jeff shook your hand, “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” you told him, ignoring Eddie next to you, who was not so patiently waiting to chime in. Jeff noticed his friend's urge to say something, but with a smile he continued to talk to you.

“Now you just have to meet Gareth, he’s our drummer, and Grant, one of our guitarists. And Eddie,” he points at the fidgety guy next to you, “is our singer and lead guitarist.”

Before Eddie could say anything, Rick called out to get back into the buses.

“Alright, see you later.”, Cliff said and, with you in tow, hurried back to your bus and waved Jeff and Eddie goodbye.

The next day you played your first show of the tour, the prelude of this adventure. And it was a great success. The crowd was hyped, thrilled to see your band perform before Corroded Coffin entered the stage. By far, this show was the best one you’ve had. Adrenaline flooded your body as you hopped off the stage after the last song. You were soaring higher and higher on the feeling, an addicting mixture of dopamine and endorphins.

“What was that?” Doug, excitedly jumping up and down, looked at you with wide eyes.

You mirrored his smile and tried to find the right words to sum up what just happened.

“That was absolutely insane!”, yelled Cliff out. He laid his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to place a kiss at the crown of your head. “You were incredible! And that solo?” Cliff let go of you. He raised his hands to his head, fingers splayed out, and mimicked the motion of his mind exploding. His palms hovered inches away from his temples as he widened his eyes in astonishment, as if trying to contain the explosion of thoughts within his skull. You started to giggle, touched by your cousin's excitement about your freestyled solo.

“I really hope you remember what you did up there. Brillant!” Thankfully you took the beer Chad handed you. “I swear to god, when this tour won’t be our breakthrough, I’ll be damned.”

For the rest of the show you stayed backstage with Chad, while Doug and Cliff roamed around the venue, drinking beer, celebrating, and probably trying to flirt with some girls. You sipped at your cool beer and wiped away the sweat on your skin with a towel Chad threw at you. The high slowly subsided. But you had to agree with Chad; you could literally sense how this tour might be your last step before your big breakthrough. Satisfied you laid back in the small armchair backstage and spent the time talking with Chad as long as Corroded Coffin were on the stage.

After Eddie and his band had to play bonus track after bonus track, they finally left the stage. The time schedule was very tight knit, which left you no time to stay and relax. As soon as the crowd left the venue, you quickly gathered your stuff and stowed away everything in the buses. A quick ‘Great show’ was all the bands interacted with each other before they disappeared into their home on wheels, carrying them to the next location.

The next shows were no different to the first one; success after success. Your fan base grew, you were asked for autographs, fans bought your merchandise and wanted to take a photo with ‘The Sleepless’. Everything felt like a dream.

“I think Eddie really has his eyes on you,” Chad whispered to you with a mischievous grin when, during the sound check, he spotted Eddie walking up and down next to the stage, hidden behind the sound boxes, trying to catch a glimpse of you. Annoyed, you rolled your eyes and changed your position without comment, under the pretense of tuning the guitar undisturbed.

One evening, after another successful show, you had the chance to stay at the venue, no time schedule stressing you to leave the town right away. You were sitting at the bar and drinking some beer. Before you went back to the hotel, you wanted to take the time to chat with Corroded Coffin.

Eddie rocked back and forth indecisively, the label on the beer bottle in his hand hanging in shreds after he rubbed it nervously throughout the last twenty minutes. He was fascinated by you, your demeanor, your humor, your talent, not to mention your beauty. But he was also confused by your cold, dismissive manner towards him. So he gathered his courage, clutched his beer bottle. As you were casually chatting with Gareth, Eddie approached you from behind, trying to appear as cool and collected as possible.

“So, um… Do you like raccoons?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he could have slapped himself for it. What was that supposed to be? Cringing about his failed attempt at gaining your attention, Eddie frowned.

You paused for a moment, trying to figure out if your mind was just playing some tricks on you. Luckily you couldn’t see Gareth’s amused grin, deriding his friend's horrible attempt to flirt with you.

"What?" Eyebrows raised, you turned her head in Eddie’s direction, thinking that you probably misheard what he said over the loud music. Because nobody would ever think of starting a conversation with “Do you like raccoons” right?

“Oh, uh … nevermind.” Embarrassed by his defeat, Eddie turned around, leaving you and Gareth alone again.

“Dude, what was that?” Jeff hissed as Eddie sat back down next to him at the bar.

“I have absolutely no idea,” Eddie whined, burying his face in his hands.

The evening wore on and the more Eddie drank, the more confident he became until he plucked up the courage to talk to you again. His gaze lingered on you a little too long as he waited until you were alone again and he could shoot his shot. After Gareth left you, Eddie took a deep breath and took his chance.

“Your performance was really good. You are so talented,” he let you know, as casually as discussing the weather. There was a lot of nervousness bubbling under his cool facade, but he was able to hide it surprisingly well.

“Thanks.” Your answer was short and might have come out ruder than you intended. Without even looking at him, you sipped your drink. Eddie felt himself continuing to run into the walls you had built around you. So he tried again.

“You have a really nice guitar. You rarely see such gems on a stage.”

Sighing, you put the glass down and turned to him. For a brief moment, a spark of hope flickered within him as your eyes met his. You were just about to give him a rather sarcastic answer when he spoke up again.

“I would really be happy if I could get to know you a bit. I mean, we've been traveling together for a while now, so I'd like to know who I'm dealing with." For better or worse, you had to agree with him. After a moment's consideration, you nodded in agreement.

So Eddie cautiously tried to get to know you. At the beginning you were rather shy and your answers were short. After a few minutes, however, you thawed out a bit and Eddie allowed himself to make a joke or two that surprisingly made you smile.

“What do you do in your free time, when you’re not out and about making music?” Interested, he leaned forward, rested his elbows on the counter and literally sank into the depths of your eyes.

You thought for a brief moment before answering him. “I'm trying to recover from the tours and unpleasant flirtations of horny rock stars.” With a wink, you leaned back, eager to hear his answer.

“Oh come on, touring with a rock band can’t be that bad,” he replied incredulously. You raised an eyebrow almost defiantly.

“You think so?” You snorted disdainfully. “Oh, you have no idea what it's like to tour in the wake of a rock star. Besides the crappy hotels, poor pay and miserably long bus tours, someone like me has to put up with the constant bragging about who's the band's biggest player." With a teasing grin, you tilted your head and slowly ran your finger along the rim of the glass.

“Between all the…how do I best put this?” You narrowed your eyes and seemed to think. “Between all the meet-and-greets, there’s hardly any room to rest. If you know what I mean. Sex, drugs and rock’n’roll.” You raised the glass to your lips again and as you sipped at the drink, you looked Eddie almost challengingly in the eyes.

Eddie held your gaze, felt challenged and saw his chance to win you over. Just don't make any mistakes now.

“You know, maybe you just need the right rock star to change your mind,” he countered playfully, lowering his voice. “I would rather spend my time on the couch with a good book than with groupies at a wild party.”

“Oh really?” you replied incredulously, voice dripping with sarcasm. You liked playing the game, maybe even making him think he had a chance with you. A game of cat and mouse, except that it wasn't entirely clear who was the cat and who was the mouse.

"Oh yeah!" He confirmed his statement exuberantly and nodded eagerly. “It’s a lot more rock‘n’relax, you know?”

You snorted, barely hiding a giggle. “Rock’n’Relax, yeah?” You looked at him skeptically with a lopsided smile. “No scandals? No wild parties? No paparazzi madness? That almost sounds too good to be true. You’re like the last unicorn in a herd of wild donkeys.” You leaned forward a little and let a strand of your y/h/c hair slide between your fingers.

Eddie felt like he had found a small crack in your wall. With a triumphant smile on his lips, he took another sip of beer.

“You know,” he put the bottle back on the counter, “to be honest, I don’t really care. Just because I'm famous doesn't change my passion for music. For me it was never about anything other than my music and not about fame.” Confident of victory, he enjoyed the moment in which you looked at him admiringly, not knowing that you were just playing with him, the way everyone had always played with you before. Encouraged by your feigned affection, he took the next step.

“You know, maybe we should continue this conversation somewhere else. In a nice restaurant perhaps? Just you and me. What do you think of that, hmm?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Not gonna happen, Munson.” There was something mocking in your voice as you stood up and patted him on the shoulder before leaving the club. He watched you leave, speechless and confused. What just happened? Was he caught up in a bad dream? No, one look at his friends, who were looking at him just as stunned, he knew that he couldn't have dreamed that.

The first stop of your next ten hour journey was early in the morning. You were given a good 15 minutes to stretch your feet, smoke or just get some fresh air.

Half-awake, you strolled across the rest area with a steaming cup of coffee and joined Chad and Cliff, who were smoking by one of the trash cans.

With a grin, Chad noticed Eddie trying to get close to you unnoticed. “Look, your shadow is already awake too,” he teased whispering, nodding in Eddie’s direction.

“God, this guy just won’t leave me alone,” you moaned and squeezed your tired eyes shut in annoyance, which was a dangerous endeavor, since you feared you might not be able to open your eyes again.

"How come? He’s quite nice, isn’t he?” Cliff objected.

“He’s a rock star. And they’re all the same,” you replied wearily. "Superficial. Arrogant. Narcissistic. And oh, very important; They fuck everything that’s female and has two legs just to reinforce their puny ego that they’re the hottest.”

“Woah! Hold on, hold on," Chad interjected laughing. “Seems like someone's gotten out of the wrong side of bed this morning.”

“Oh come on, it’s true,” you whispered and looked at your cousin, pressing the warming cup of coffee against your chest in a poor attempt to warm yourself. “Every band I’ve worked with so far has, without exception, been out to meet as many groupies as they can.”

Both rolled with their eyes, ready to say something, but were silenced by Rick's voice. “Okay, everyone, break is over! We need to move on!”

Sighing you shambled back to your bus, hoping to get some more time to doze off in your little bunk before your slightly hyperactive cousins would return to their typical banter and bullshit, keeping you awake and denying you the rest you needed.

“Why don't you just give him a chance?”, Chad groaned and plumped down on the beanbag.

Cliff climbed up into the bus and agreed with his brother. “Yeah, he seems to be a nice guy.”

“I really have to agree with them. You should give him a chance. I don't see what your problem is anyway.” Doug’s voice echoed from the small bathroom of the bus.

You dramatically rolled your eyes and sighed. Didn't they see how all your ‘just give him a chance’ romances ended? It's like they forgot about all the times your heart was broken, all the times you’ve been used and played with, like none of that ever happened.

“Because,” you started, almost sounding like a teacher, “Rockstars are assholes.” The eyes of your cousins followed your every move as you crouched down in front of the little fridge, searching for some milk for your coffee. There was no chance they’d shut up to let you sleep, so you could just as well down another coffee to wake up the rest of your body.

“Well, the four Armenian guys we played with a few months ago didn't seem to be assholes. You spent a lot of the time with them. Like … a lot!”, Doug said with special emphasis on the last part of his sentence after coming out of the bathroom. And he was right. You did enjoy the time with these four weirdos from L.A. on your last tour.

“Yeah,” you huffed and filled your cup with the worst coffee you’ve ever had, “‘cause they were stoned the whole time and wanted me to help them with their make-up!”

The three guys looked at each other but eventually nodded in agreement. “Yeah, okay, totally forgot about that.” Cliff acknowledged.

For a moment there was silence. An awkward kind of silence and you felt like you won. Maybe you could unexpectedly get a few more minutes of sleep? Until Chad started this discussion all over again. “But what if he’s different?”

You groaned in annoyance at your cousin's remark and laid your head back. “Oh. My. Fucking. God!”, you hissed through gritted teeth. “Why do you desperately want to -” Mid Sentence you stopped, an idea shooting up in your mind. With wide eyes, and a nearly insane look on your face, you glared at them. “Now I see it. I can see it pretty clearly!”

“What are you talking about?” Chad’s question let you twirl around. You pointed your finger at him, sensing a conspiracy. But it could’ve been the caffeine in your blood as well, you didn’t know but it didn’t matter anyway.

“You guys want me to fuck with him! You want me to fuck with him, so we might get some publicity for our band!”

“Bullshit! No one wants you to fuck with him.”, Chad huffed with a frown, offended by your suspicion and shook his head.

“Unless you want to fuck with him. You know, you’re an adult, you’re responsible for your own actions and who are we to tell you -” You interrupted Doug quickly.

“Okay! Okay! Could we stop discussing my non-existing sexlife? Please? I’m not gonna fuck any Rockstar at all.” You sat back down on the little sofa and sipped your coffee. “Rockstars are just horny little assholes with little egos. All they ever want is to get their ducks wet by as many desperate groupies as possible, just to boost their ego. Sex, Drugs and Rock’n’Roll - that’s all they ever want.”

“Oh come on, Y/N/N, not everyone in this industry is like that,” Cliff tried to calm you down, unsuccessfully.

“Not everyone, but an incredibly large amount of them are and I’m not willing to go through all of that bullshit again to find out who might not be like the rest. End of discussion.” You downed the coffee and stood up to get some alone time in your somewhat cozy bunk, where you would stay for the rest of the drive.

“Oh, and don’t ever call me Y/N/N again. I’m not eight anymore.”

When you arrived at the club where you were scheduled to perform that evening, it was pouring rain. The thick raindrops splashing against the window panes had a calming effect on you, always has. To pass the time while Rick was dealing with the hotel, which had canceled the reservations for some unknown reason, you made yourself comfortable on one of the padded benches in the entrance area of the hotel and soon closed your eyes. You let the patter of the rain lull you like a gentle massage.

“Could you please stop staring at me like that all the time?” You didn't have to open your eyes to notice Eddie, sitting in a chair just a few steps away from you, watching you and thinking you wouldn't notice.

“I uh…” He felt caught red-handed and nervously jumped up from his seat. Giggling, you opened your eyes and looked at him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Stare at me like a creep?” you interrupted his stuttering. He nodded sheepishly.

“Listen, I would really like to get to know you,” he began after taking a deep breath and sitting down in the chair right next to you. “I'm really serious, no games. I’m not one of those cliche rock stars, believe me.” You also sat up and looked at him. Skepticism flashed in your eyes.

“Please give me a chance to prove to you that I’m serious. I would really like to know who you are off stage. Just an honest conversation, you and me.” Eddie looked at you pleadingly, with big, round puppy-dog eyes that, to be honest, no one could resist. But you hesitated for a moment, indecisive if you should dare to trust him and give him a chance.

“Please, Y/N.” You could tell from his look that he really was being serious. Every single fiber of your being screamed ‘no’, your instinct screamed at you not to trust him, but eventually you gave in.

"One chance." When you finally gave him the opportunity to prove himself his face lit up. “Really just one chance. I've had enough of being played with by guys like you. You have one single chance to convince me that you’re not the kind of rock star that just uses women. Don't make me regret my decision.”

“You won’t regret it, promised,” he solemnly swore, excitedly holding out his pinky for the sacred pinky promise.

“I hope so for your own safety,” you admonished him and sealed the promise. Was this really the right decision?

Later that evening, after another incredible show, Eddie approached you, a wide, excited grin painted on his face. His friends watched him from a distance, ready to help him if needed.

“Hey, Y/N!” He snuck up on you from behind and slung his arm around your shoulders. Was the touching already too much? Too intrusive?

“Oh, hey, there’s your shadow again,” Chad winked at you. “I’ll leave you two alone then.” Laughing, he turned away from you and followed Cliff and Doug to the bar.

“That was a good show, huh?” Still high on the evening's success, he grinned broadly at you. “The best show we've had so far!”

"Oh yeah, especially considering all the screaming and bra-throwing fangirls," you told him with a sarcastic tone that immediately wiped the smile off his face.

"What? No, that… well -” Again he burst into incomprehensible babble, which was probably intended to be an apology or justification.

Laughing, you placed a hand on his arm. "Eddie, that was a joke," you explained.

“Oh, yeah, uh - a joke,” he stammered, still a little taken aback. “Shall we maybe eat something?”

“Eat something?” you asked and looked at your watch. “It's almost half past one. In the morning."

Shrugging his shoulders, he replied: “Some pizza place will be open by now, don’t you think?”

Miraculously, the two of you actually found a rather shabby pizza place that was open at that time. Between a few drunks stumbling out of discos and the smell of greasy food, you found a small table in the corner. While you waited for the pizzas, you observed the unusually lively hustle and bustle in this small diner and were thoroughly amused by the unsuccessful attempts of a drunk German tourist who wanted to order his pizza in Italian from the Pakistani-born owner.

“Really? Pineapple on pizza?” Disgust was written all over Eddie's face as the waiter brought your order.

“What? Believe me, this is the best combo. You have to try it!” Laughing you grabbed a piece and held it up to his face. With a scrunched up nose he tried to get away from your rather pushy attempt to make him try the pineapple pizza.

“Come on! You have to try it, trust me.” Still giggling you looked at Eddie, his eyes darting between you and the piece of pizza, dangerously near his lips. He weighed his options for a moment until he decided to give it a try. With a frown he sighed but leaned forward to take a bite. As he chewed you looked at him expectantly and waited for a reaction. It took him a few seconds until his face lit up. “Well, it’s not that bad actually, but I wouldn’t call this ‘the best combo’,” he shrugged, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Yeah, okay Mister Gourmet,” you jested and moved aside on the bench to get away from him in a playful manner, acting pouty. “You obviously don’t have a good taste.”

“I don’t have a good taste?!” The expression on his face was theatrically offended.

“Yeah, you don’t have a good taste. But it’s my fault, sorry, I should’ve known it already the first time you tried to flirt with me.” You shrugged and returned your attention to your pretty oily pizza. Eddie, however, couldn't turn his eyes away from you. With his mouth wide open in shock, trying to find the right words, you couldn’t help but notice that he looked like a fish out of water. Grinning to yourself you continued to ignore him until he finally found his voice again.

“What?”, was everything he was able to get out. “What?!”

As you were trying to grab another piece of pizza he shoved the plate away from you, forcing you to look at him. “I have no taste because I think you are fucking cute and talented and gorgeous?”, he summed up your sarcastic remarks.

“Oh please, you don’t honestly think I’m cute or gorgeous or anything,” you snorted, leaning back on the sticky bench, knowing damn well he wouldn’t make it easy for you to get your pizza back. “You just want to flatter me because you want to end up in bed with me like the guys before you.”

Still in shock he stared at you. “No, no, no. Hold on.” Eddie gently turned your head by placing his index finger on your chin so you had to look at him. “You still think all I wanna do is lure you into bed?” He waited in vain for you to reply, but all you did was look down at the dirty table.

“Listen, Y/N, I really want to get to know you. Not like the assholes before. I wasn’t joking when I told you I care more about my music than being famous. Even if I wasn’t famous, you would still be that girl I desperately would want to spend my time with, okay? I couldn’t imagine someone more perfect than you. I would gladly give up everything I have just to get to know you. I don’t believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now, Y/N.” Eddie's voice was soft but determined. You could feel that he was being honest with you, not joking around or acting up just to lure into bed.

All this time you were played with, and not just your time in the music industry but the years at school too, you were so used to only getting a guy's attention because he wanted one thing. But as soon as you made it clear to whoever was shooting his shot, you were nothing more than garbage to them. So it was pretty much understandable that getting compliments or even the slightest attention from someone made you hide behind your wall you built around you to protect you. In your own mind you were worthless, no one would actually want to get to know you.

“Eddie, I’m sorry,” you whispered after some quiet moments, finally looking up into his eyes again. “I’m just not used to all of this.”

“That’s okay,” he reassured you. “Well, honestly it’s not okay, because it seems like you’ve been treated like an object before and that’s not okay. But it’s okay that you’re insecure. Let me help you, okay? Let me show you not everyone is like this. I really want you to see what I see when I look at you or hear you sing or simply hear your laugh.” He moved closer to you again, closing the gap you created before. “You can trust me, okay? I won’t hurt you or play with your feelings or anything.”

You just sat there for a moment, your pizzas already turning cold, while a battle raged within you. On one hand, there was the overwhelming desire to trust Eddie, to believe his kind words and let him in. But on the other hand, there was the lingering fear, the scars of past betrayals and heartaches, whispering caution in your ear. Anxiety gnawed at your insides, reminding you of all the times you had been let down and used. It was a struggle between the longing for connection and the instinct to protect yourself from further pain.

As Eddie's warmth enveloped you, a part of you wanted to surrender to the comfort he offered, to allow yourself to be vulnerable in his presence. But another part hesitated, clinging to the safety of your walls, wary of the vulnerability that came with trust.

Eddie's gentle touch and reassuring words began to chip away at your defenses, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness of your doubts. Could he truly be different? Could he be the one to break the cycle of hurt and disappointment? Or was he just another one to kick you in the back, to play with your feelings just for his amusement?

Eddie sensed you might need a hug, someone to hold you tight and make you feel somehow safe. “Is it okay if I lay my arm around you?”, he carefully asked. You needed a second to muster your courage and finally nodded. Eddie laid his arm around your shoulders and gently pulled you closer. As you leaned into his embrace, a flicker of hope ignited within you, tentative but undeniable. Perhaps, just perhaps, this time would be different.

“I don’t care what you’ve been told by these pricks. All I know is I want to spend my time with you and make some music, nothing else matters,” he whispered into your ear.

Slowly you began to let your walls crumble down, bit by bit. This kind of safety was something you hadn’t felt in quite some time and you nearly forgot what it was like to hold on to somebody. There was still a voice in the back of your head, admonishing you to keep your defense up just in case, because no one could ever really like you, right? You were always the second choice, why should it be different this time?

Time seemed to fly by as you were lost in Eddie's warm embrace and soon you were told to leave by the owner of the diner, it was closing time. You already forgot about the pizza, with all the grease they were disgusting anyway.

“Come on, sweetie, let’s get back.” Eddie stood up and held out a hand for you. For a second you looked at his hand, his calloused fingers and the chunky rings adorning them, unable to decide if you should accept his offer to hold your hand. But without your heart's consent you eventually grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. Eddie cast you a reassuring smile, proud you overcame your doubts.

After that evening you slowly began to trust Eddie. He brought you coffee in the morning, smiling like an idiot at your grumbled insults; even though you were the complete opposite of a morning person, he found your rather grumpy attitude inexplicably endearing. You spent the breaks together, and to your cousin's great confusion, you laughed at his jokes and found yourself drawn to his incredibly mesmerizing and warm eyes. And when you were exhausted and didn’t feel like talking, he simply sat next to you and enjoyed your presence. Sometimes he would play some melodies on his guitar for you or read to you out of some crappy books he bought at a gas station; he always picked the ones with the most ridiculous titles or covers.

Your little pizza dates after your shows quickly became some sort of tradition whenever you had the chance to stay in the city for the night, giggling at the drama of the drunk’s around you. Soon he began to appreciate your choice of pizza, stealing pieces of your pineapple pizza when you weren’t looking.

He truly was the sweetest guy you ever met. Eddie managed to make you laugh when you felt like never laughing again. He made you feel valued. He made you feel important. When you were on the stage you found Eddie either right beside the stage or in the front row, cheering, screaming, as if you were the greatest rockstar on earth. And when he was on the stage his eyes were glued to your face wherever you were standing. He always found you, the rest of the crowd disappearing for him; there was nothing more important to him than to see your smile while he performed.

As a sign of love and affection he let you play with his lucky pick while you gave him your favorite lighter.

Time flew by, you and Eddie were literally glued together which started to annoy the rest of your bands. You weren’t spared the mocking and teasing comments of your cousins and even Eddie had to deal with bad jokes from his friends. Some weeks had passed, all your doubts and worries vanished and you enjoyed your time with Eddie. There were innocent touches, his hand brushing yours when you walked next to each other or crossed paths backstage between you performances, hugs whenever you were alone, he even held you hand under the table when you were at a restaurant with everyone else.

One evening you found yourself outside of the club for a smoke to calm down your nerves. During your band's performance there were a few dickheads trying to sabotage the gig, hollering insults and booing because they thought your band was crap. So you stood outside, the cool air of the night wrapped around your body and literally cooling down the racing thoughts that started to pull you down again. You took a deep, shaky breath, the smoke filling your lungs. As you inhaled the smoke, your eyes fluttered shut and you held your breath for a moment before releasing a little cloud of tobacco smoke into the night sky. The buzz of pleasure combined with the slight flash of adrenaline and energy rushing through your body were slowly numbing your mind.

“That shit could kill you, you know?” The voice pulled you out of your trancelike state. You opened your eyes and turned your head just to find Eddie, sneaking up behind you out of the dark.

“So does life and yet here we are,” you taunted, shrugging your shoulders and taking another drag. “Aren’t you supposed to get on stage by now?”, you stated after taking a look at your watch.

“Yeah, but the security is currently busy with removing some shitheads that insulted my favorite person,” he declared casually and took away the cigarette that bounced between your lips. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow as you watched him taking a deep breath, smoke filling his lungs, before he handed you the cigarette.

“You didn’t -” you stated flabbergasted.

“Of course I did.”, he huffed, releasing the smoke, and looked down on you. “A behavior like that is not appropriate and should not be tolerated.”

You shook your head and took back your cigarette he offered back to you. “Moron,” you whispered and couldn’t contain your laughter.

“I’ll gladly be your moron,” he winked at you before returning back inside for his performance.

You stayed in Indianapolis for two more days after your show before moving on with your tour. Rick allowed you to take a short break there to relax and recover from the stressful tour life. And with Chad’s birthday right around the corner you and your other cousins decided to spend the whole day together, so you informed Eddie that you would be away for the day.

This day felt like childhood again, exploring the city, visiting a museum and going to a mall in the afternoon to shop for some new clothes. Later in the evening you wanted to celebrate Chad’s birthday at a pub, the only thing that didn’t feel like childhood.

Before you headed to the pub you wanted to change your clothes and freshen up a bit, maybe you could even say hi to Eddie since you hadn’t talked to him for the whole day. As you knocked on his hotel room door you were disappointed with silence. Maybe he was out with his friends too? You sighed and hurried into your room to change. But when you excitedly exited the elevator and caught a glimpse of Eddie, your heart skipped a beat and shattered into a million pieces. It was like a rope wrapped around your chest and with every breath and every heartbeat it got tighter and tighter, making it nearly impossible to keep on breathing. Everything around you seemed to freeze, moving in slow motion as your eyes followed Eddie and the girl next to him.

Ouch.

He had slung his arm around her shoulder and as he leaned closer to whisper something into her ear, you could see the huge smile on his lips. Seeing them laughing and being pretty close felt like someone pierced your heart with a million daggers. Just when they disappeared into the elevator you were finally able to catch your breath again, nearly hyperventilating.

Like being stuck in a nightmare where you couldn’t wake up from, you couldn’t get the picture of Eddie and this beautiful light-brown haired girl out of your head. You didn’t know how long you stood there and stared at the place where Eddie and his groupie vanished into the elevator, but judging by the concerned expression on Dougs face you must’ve been in your trance for quite some time.

“Y/N?”, he asked multiple times and after you hadn’t shown a reaction to his attempts to catch your attention, he tugged at the sleeve of your jacket. “Hello?! Earth to Y/N?!”

This snapped you out of your thoughts. “What?”

“God, Y/N, what’s wrong with you?”, he asked and shook his head. “We’re late, let’s go.” And with that you left the lobby.

Although you tried to distract yourself from the spiteful voices in your head and the images of Eddie and this girl doing whatever in his hotelroom, you were unsuccessful. Your mood was at its lowest and after Cliff noticed your discomfort and asked if you're alright, you tried to drink away this overthinking and obstinate voice inside of your mind.

Downing one drink after another, your mood finally started to light up. You danced, laughed and got drunk. After not even two hours you were completely wasted and your mind blacked out. You vaguely remembered seeing Eddie in the lobby as Chad brought you back to the hotel and that you threw a pillow at him, followed by some slurred insults. Luckily Chad could hold you back before you had the chance to jump at Eddie's throat. Whereas your drunken state probably would’ve made any attempt to jump at Eddie unsuccessful. As Chad dragged you into the elevator, you growled “Fuck off and leave me alone. Don’t you dare to ever talk to me again” after Eddie confusedly tried to find out what had happened.

Somehow you ended up in your bed with a bucket next to your nightstand, just in case.

A knock on your door woke you up eventually, but opening your sleepy eyes was a strenuous act. You tried to rub away the sleep from your eyes, as it knocked a second time.

“Good morning, princess,” Eddie’s voice came chirping from the other side of the door. “Wake up. It’s time to get up and get ready for the day!”

An exasperated groan escaped your throat and you looked at the door, wondering if you should just ignore him, tell him to fuck off, or give him a chance to explain himself for the sake of the tour.

As he knocked a third time, you sighed and squeezed your eyes, already regretting your decision.

“Do you have coffee?” You had no other choice, your tired mind and hungover body were desperately in need of caffeine.

“Open the door and find out!” he cooed and no one could have overheard the smug grin in his voice. He was still confused about what your encounter last night meant, but he hoped you just had been drunk. Most people he knew tend to become aggressive under the influence of alcohol, maybe you were one of them?

“God, a simple yes or no would have been enough.” Slowly you got out of bed and slipped in one of your hoodies.

Eddie was the last person you wanted to see right now, but you were too tempted by the prospect of a steaming hot coffee. So you dragged yourself to the door, unlocked it and carefully opened. And there he was, leaning against the doorframe, a mustache painted on his face, with what you suspected was eyeliner, and the desired cup of coffee in his hand. Unimpressed, you stared at him for a moment.

“Bonjour Mademoiselle,” he said with a bad french accent, seemingly trying to be funny, and wiggled his eyebrows, as if nothing had happened last night. You kept your unimpressed expression, even though this sight was kind of hilarious.

“I’m fucking mad at you,” you grabbed the cup and held it to your chest. “And that mustache looks ridiculous.”

“What? But what did I do?”, he protested.

“Thanks for the coffee.” Without further ado you closed the door again.

“Please, tell me what I did wrong and let me apologize.” Eddies voice was desperate as he begged you to explain to him what he did to upset you like this.

The warmth of the coffee spread through your body and life seemingly came back into your hurting limbs after you took a sip. Should you really enlighten him? Should you really give him a chance to apologize? You already gave him a chance, he fucked it up and now acted like he didn’t know what he did wrong. If he didn’t know what he did, how should you accept his apology? How could an apology be honest without even knowing what the problem was? If he didn't realize on his own what he had done wrong, how could he regret it and apologize?

That’s just not working.

And that made you furious. Driven by caffeine, anger and the residue alcohol in your system, you yanked the door open and glared at him. “You told me, yeah, you PROMISED me, you were different, not like the other rock stars who play with girls. You begged me to give you a chance to prove you really wanted to get to know me. What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way. I never dreamed that I’d love somebody like you,” you hissed through gritted teeth and put the cup of coffee down at the dresser next to the door precautionary before you accidentally spilled the much needed coffee.

At the sound of your tremulous voice Eddie lost his self confident composure and turned into a scared little child that was scolded by its parents. He looked at you with his incredibly lovely puppy eyes, something no one could resist. On one hand you felt bad for yelling at him, on the other hand, however, you were still boiling with anger.

“I’ve seen you,” you began, voice now softer. “I’ve seen you with this girl last night. You had your arm wrapped around her shoulder and took her with you into your room. How could I even believe that you were resistant to these horny groupies.” Eddie froze as you explained to him why you were so angry with him.

"I mean, she's absolutely beautiful, breathtaking. I can't really blame you, she's gorgeous. I would choose her over myself too, honestly -”

“Y/N,” Eddie interrupted you, his voice soft and … amused? “That’s Robin.” He was unexpectedly calm, nearly optimistic, and not like he was trying to talk himself out of this.

“Oh, great. At least you can remember her name,” you laughed hysterically. “Congratulations! Bonus points to Eddie fucking Munson. You’re right, you are indeed different from all those horny rockstars.” Your voice was dripping with sarcasm. Even if you tried to hold back your hurt and anger, it wouldn’t have been successful. But letting it all out felt good, freeing. You looked at him, waiting for some lazy excuses, but he was just calm, like your accusations didn’t bother him. Was that a smile? Was he really smiling right now?

A moment of tense silence hung in the air. A moment that felt like eternity as you waited for his answer.

“Robin’s a lesbian.” Eddie tried to fight it, but it was a hopeless fight. The teasing grin tugging at his lips spread across his face.

“Oh … “ This caught you off guard. Your expression shifted from hurt to embarrassment, your hungover mind racing to process the unexpected revelation. “Oh!” To hide your blushing cheeks you covered your face with your hands. “Oh my god.”

“She’s an old friend of mine. And since she lives here, I decided to meet her, ask her for some advice on how to win you over, you know.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, really. I didn’t know - I just saw you and her and -” you apologized stuttering, ashamed you judged him too soon and unjustifiably screamed at him. A knot of guilt and remorse formed in the pit of your stomach as the realization sank in.

“It’s okay,” Eddie reassured you. “I never meant to upset you. I actually thought you were already out with your cousins.”

“I was on my way to meet them outside when I saw you with her,” you interfered.

He sighed and looked down on you, his expression softening with understanding.

“I never was good at talking to girls. To be honest, I’m awkward when it comes to flirting or talking with a girl I like. So I asked Robin if she could help me out. I wanted to do it right, you know? And not scare you away because I’m clumsy and weird since it was getting serious between us.” Eddie shook his head and huffed, seemingly amused about a memory that popped up.

“You know, I figured calling someone I like M’lady and stuff isn’t really what girls want.”

"Eddie, I'm so incredibly sorry, I really am," you apologized over and over again. The guilt seemed to eat you up inside.

“Please believe me, my love, and I’ll give you those things you thought unreal - the sun, the moon, the stars all bear my seal,” he whispered, his rough hands cupping your face.

Even when everything would fall apart someday and the world burned down, all he would want was to hug you tight. There was nothing more important to him than you and his music - as long as you were with him, nothing could go wrong, you’ll be the light to guide him back home. He lost himself in the depths of your y/e/c irises, his heart beating violently in his chest. Just as you were about to say something he closed the gap between your lips. The kiss sparked something inside of you you’ve never felt before, something you never wanted to miss again in your life.

Out of breath you pulled away. Your mind was dizzy, but you were unsure if it was from the lingering effects of your hangover or the intensity of this moment, this overwhelming kiss.

“Come on, get ready and we’ll go out to get some breakfast,” he whispered, his smile was filled with warmth and affection - just pure adoration for the most wonderful woman in his life.

__________

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