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bellarose204 · 3 months

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*Clara tries on Wonka's top hat*

Clara: how do I look?

Willy: like a dreamer *he then tries on her goggles* how do I look?

Noodle: ridiculous

Clara: like someone who breaks the law

Willy: says the rebel

Clara: OK CAN I HAVE MY GOGGLES BACK!?

#willy wonka #wonka 2023 #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet wonka #willy wonka and the chocolate factory #wonka oc #oc #original character #clara spice #clara spice wonka #clara spice 2023 #willy wonka and clara spice #noodle #noodle wonka #noodle noodle apple strudel #theyre in love your honor #theyre idiots your honor #the candy man and engineer

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amykiriwosdefenselawyer · 4 months

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Mafia Clara's design has me in such a chokehold I swear

Any smiling happy jester/clown women whose motifs are "I want to make people smile" and "I wanna see your joy, laugh with me" etc. have all my love

Bonus points if they're a deranged cirque "welcome to the freak show" type too

#and maybe a spice of trauma #using smiles and happiness to ignore pain of the world and bad things #harley quinn design vibes #m!ik #mairimashita! iruma kun #mairuma #welcome to demon school iruma kun #mafia au #m!ik mafia #valac clara #clara valac

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unpretty · 4 months

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PHYSICALLY SCREAMING OUT LOUD AT THAT LAST LINE OH BOY

Also I am SO intrigued by the clothing distinctions?? And the image of Xavio in the skirt with the LILY TUCKED BEHIND HIS HAIR

Extremely good chapter and laughing at the plot that just can't help itself from forming

THERE IS NO PLOT IN BA SING SE

steal his look:

#original #htrblogging #xavio #clara quietly coping with being kept prisoner in the sex dungeon of a man who dresses like he lives for pumpkin spice season #the outfit hits different on a comically large man with blue skin and black wings and quartz horns #not pictured: tail accessories

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mymilovesfashion · 5 months

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[2023 year in review ~ Dazed Magazine]

SPRING - Azealia Banks, Ice Spice, Malick Bodian, Brent McKeever, Campbell Addy, Clara Belleville, Gabriel Moses, Hugo Comte, Justin French, Lea Colombo, Nadine Ijewere, Rafael Pavarotti, Renell Medrano, Thibaut Grevet, Will Scarborough, Zaya Wade, Clint, Just Stop Oil, Sophia Dawiye

SUMMER - Ramla Ali, Digga D, Dua Lipa, Stormzy, Alys Hunt, Lee Nixon, Laury Apedo, Raza Tariq, Esrom Solomon, Rae, Anas, Imogen Cunlife, Floss Crossley

AUTUMN - Jungkook , Little Simz, Rosalía , Spice, Quenlin Blackwell

WINTER - Ceechynaa , Cleo Sol, Anok Yai, Nayonikaa Shetty, Ponahalo Mojapelo, Loubna Reguig, Salimata Sylla, Hiba Latreche

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denimbex1986 · 6 months

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Doctor Who's 60th-anniversary special, "The Giggle," reveals the dark truth about the women companions from the Steven Moffat era in one of the most hilarious scenes. The last episode in the three-part Doctor Who 60th anniversary special brings back one of the zaniest and most dangerous villains, The Toymaker. Unlike other villains who use strength to fight the Doctor, the Toymaker's powers in Doctor Who rely on his intellect and ability to win at games.

Because they brought back The Toymaker, "The Giggle" has multiple funny scenes to keep audiences laughing. Neil Patrick Harris's Toymaker jokes about splitting up a puppet family. At the end of Doctor Who's 60th anniversary special, he gets to dance around to "Spice Up Your Life" by the Spice Girls while turning everything into rose petals. In one of the funniest scenes though, the Toymaker puts on a puppet show which recounts the Moffat-era Doctor Who.

The Toymaker's Puppet Show Reveals The Dark Truth About Moffat Era Companions

One of the funniest parts of the Doctor Who 60th-anniversary special, episode 3, "The Giggle," was the Toymaker's puppet show. The first puppet he brings out is Amy Pond. He talks about the Doctor liking Amy and the two traveling together. Then, the Toymaker says she died because a Weeping Angel touched her. The villain then snips the puppet strings. This dialogue references Doctor Who season 7, episode 5, "The Angels Take Manhattan." Amy and Rory sacrifice themselves to the Weeping Angels, killing the pair.

Next, the Toymaker brings out a puppet of Clara. He doesn't even discuss Clara's connection with the Doctor, a reminder that she was created as a manic pixie dream girl. Then he announces that Clara died because of a bird, repeating the comical snipping action. This cryptic dialogue refers to Doctor Who season 9, episode 10, "Face the Raven." In this episode, Clara took the countdown tattoo from Rigsy, causing her death. The tattoo itself was just numbers; therefore, the Toymaker's dialogue must refer to the quantum shade that took the form of a raven. This explains why he made a confused face when announcing how Clara died.

Lastly, Toymaker says the Doctor met Bill, pulling out a puppet with her likeness. He then announces the Cybermen killed Bill, snipping her strings as well. This last line refers to Doctor Who season 10, episode 12, "The Doctor Falls." This is the least correct of his assertions because the Cybermen did technically kill her, but Bill also lived on as sentient oil. Despite this, the Toymaker's puppet show reveals the dark truth that women companions in Moffat's era were often treated as expendable.

Why The Toymaker Is Actually Right About The Doctor Letting His Companions Down

During the puppet show, Toymaker reveals the one way in which the Doctor is a villain of sorts in Doctor Who. Each of the companions discussed dies because the Doctor takes them along for adventures. While it could be argued that the companions consent to go, most of them aren't fully aware of the dangers they can face when traveling with the Doctor. The Doctor, on the other hand, has all the information about the dangers, but they take the companions along anyway.

After every statement the Toymaker makes about the companions' deaths, the Doctor contradicts him, saying each companion lived on. While technically true, this dismisses the fact that they died at all. The Toymaker points out the Doctor's flawed logic when he shouts, "Well, that's alright then!" after each justification. No matter what the Doctor says, they can't change the fact that they put each of these companions in a position to die. They can try to wash their hands of guilt, but the Doctor is still culpable. Even beyond the three specific Moffat companions referenced, the Doctor has harmed, abandoned, or caused the death of companions for decades.

Doctor Who's Puppet Shows Sets Up Ruby Sunday As A Very Different Companion

Doctor Who's 2023 seasonal special will introduce Ruby Sunday, a companion to the Fifteenth Doctor. However, after the implications of the Toymaker's puppet show, Doctor Who will need excellent justification for bringing Ruby on as a companion. By taking this role, she'll inherently be at risk of harm or death. Luckily, the synopsis for the seasonal special already confirms that Ruby isn't like any of the Doctor's past companions.

Rather than having a well-developed background and family life, Ruby was abandoned as a baby on Christmas Eve. She now lives with her mom and grandmother, Carla and Cherry. It's unclear when or how Carla adopted Ruby. Additionally, very little is known about Ruby's history. This would seemingly make her a prime candidate for traveling with the Doctor because she seems like she might not have as much to lose. However, it's also worrisome that Doctor Who may present the adopted child as expendable. Ultimately, viewers will have to wait until Doctor Who season 14 to know exactly how they'll handle this topic.'

#Steven Moffat #Doctor Who #60th Anniversary #The Giggle #Ruby Sunday #The Toymaker #Amy Pond #Clara Oswald #Bill Potts #Neil Patrick Harris #Spice Girls #Spice Up Your Life #Ncuti Gatwa

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gamequeenanya · 1 year

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Tickletober Day 21: Wake Up! - (Vampire Hunters!AU - ler!William, lee!Clara)

Summary: Inspired by the Evil! Mrs. Afton AU/headcanon, combined with William's evil, combined with hunting vampires! Sounds like a perfect match, right? // Warning for spiciness and innuendo.

...

"Wake up, Clara, we're hunting vampires!" William whispered seductively in his wife's ear. She was covered in blankets, only her head and hands visible.

However, Clara had just about enough of this. It was always 'hunt vampires with me!', it was never 'spend a candlelit dinner with me!' She pulled a pillow over her head.

"You hunt them. I just want to rest."

He got into bed with her.

"What's wrong, dear...?" Carefully, he brushed a section of her blonde hair with his fingers. "Is something upsetting you...?"

She took him by surprise when she turned around. "Oh, I don't know! Maybe the only times my husband wants to spend time with me is when we kill stuff together! What happened to just us...?!"

"Oh." He pulled his hand away, realizing he may have messed up. "I-I apologize... I never meant to..."

Pulling the covers off of herself, Clara got out of bed and stood up. She was already in her vampire hunter's outfit. Far from anything traditional, the outfit consisted of a long cape, a leather shirt that showed off some cleavage and her midriff, a frilly skirt that fell almost to her knees and knee-high black boots. There were also black leather gloves she'd decided not to wear tonight.

She put her hands on her hips, staring down at her husband still in bed.

"Well, are we going...?"

He felt his breath hitch in his throat.

"T-that's a trick question, and you know it!"

"I got all dressed up for it... may as well."

William thought for a moment.

"Hmm... No, no. I promised you something nice. We'll do that candle lit dinner you wanted. How about that...?"

She smiled. "Alright. But what about my outfit? Should I get changed...?"

He shook his head. "You look beautiful. And besides... I want you all to myself tonight~"

...

The dinner was nice, but now she'd have to decide what she was going to do. Perhaps they could have a night to themselves...? After all, they weren't the town's only vampire hunters.

Her thoughts were cut off when she felt arms around her and suddenly she was lifted into the air!

"Eeek! Put me down!" She screeched. William laughed and set her down in bed.

Then his arms were around her and she was being tickled all over!

"HEHEHHEHHEEHEHEHEHHEEHEHEEE! WILLY!! PLEHEHEHHEHEASE!!" She squealed as she thrashed around.

"HAHAHA! This is what you get for tickling me yesterday!" He grinned. Yesterday she'd taken advantage of his shirtless Vampire Hunter's outfit to get all of his weak spots, so he thought he may as well return the favor. "Oh goodness me! Your armpits have no protection!"

"EEHEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEE!" She clamped her arms down, trapping his hands in her armpits in the process. "STAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAP!"

"I would love to my dear, but your shrieks are music to my ears!"

Once his hands were free, he explored other places on her torso. Finding her bare belly, he grinned. As he poked her, she let out a shriek and tried to roll over.

"Oh my, what is this...? I think it's a weak spot! Oh, and look - a ticklish little cavern! As his other fingers traced her belly, one finger explored her belly button, and she shrieked and laughed harder.

"HEHEEHEHEEHEHEEHHEEHHEEEEHEEE! WILLIAM!! HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEEEE! I CAHAHAHHAHAHAAN'T!! IHIHIHIH'M TOOHOOOHHOO TICKLISH!!!"

He laughed along with her. "Should have thought of that before you were oh so cruel to me yesterday."

There was more shrill laughter, screeching and thrashing. He took the opportunity to tickle all over her sides, hips, and back. Finally, William let go and lay beside her as she breathed heavily.

"Well then. What do you think? Have I proven that I'm completely in love with you?" His voice got lower as he whispered in her ear. "Or do I need to prove myself further...?"

She giggled and pushed him away, with an affectionate tone. "Dearie... Let me catch my breath first!"

#fnaf tickling #with some spice (just to warn you)#lee clara #lee mrs afton #ler william afton #surprisingly merciful william #william x clara ship #vampire hunters au #my writing #tickletober

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callofthxvoid · 1 year

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WHERE: Jones Residence WHO: Riley Saunders ( @ambercast )

It had been one of those days. One of those days when Clara felt extremely restless and uncomfortably depressed and therefore in desperate need of a distraction - which was where Riley came in. Riley was always up for anything, and while she could recognise that his behaviour was probably one giant cry for help, she couldn't bring herself to actually, y'know... Help. It was selfish and she felt kind of guilty about that, but it wasn't like she could pull someone else out of their downward spiral when she couldn't even be bothered to pull herself out of her own.

Climbing out of bed, Clara reached for her now dwindling supply of cigarettes and pulled one out of the pack before tossing it toward her company. "Y'know, I've noticed something about you," she remarked as she lit her cigarette. "You're not as much of an asshole as you like to pretend you are. That kid from the commune, what's their name - Carter? You're different around them."

#interactions: clara #clara: riley #spice adjacent #[ I mean she's like fully covered in that gif but y'know better safe than sorry ]#[ Clara Jones: still as subtle as a sledgehammer ]

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attallahmusic · 1 year

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Top 10 January

This month starts off strong, Shakira took over the entire music scene with her amazing diss song about ex-boyfriend Piqué and his mistress Clara. A song which makes me happy that there are so many amazing translators, but yet still feel pity for those of you who won't get the feel effect of understanding the Spanish. While this list has a significant amount of Spanish spoken songs, we have had really promising releases outside of the Spanish spoken scene.

The following list is my favorite 10 songs from this month.

If you have been living under a rock, you would still at least have heard of this song. Shakira: Bzrp Music Sessions, Vol. 53. It is the ultimate revenge song, with clever wordplay calling out Shakira’s ex and his former mistress turned girlfriend. Not only is are the lyrics satisfying, but the song is simply addictive.

Everybody loves a Colombian accent, but the way Feid says mi amor just hits absolutely different in this song. An entrance sentence to this temazo, which is perfect for perrear.

Moving on to another Spanish spoken song. I actually had a hard time choosing a song from this release, Asimétrico, a project which consist of 5 songs by Rafa Pabön. Besides this great pop banger, I have also added his salsa-song Agüita de Coco to my own personal playlist and I highly recommend listening to all 5 songs from this release.

Taking it back to the reggaetón, we have Yeska which is perfect to start the party.

Continuing with the Puerto Rican reggaetón artists we have Daddy Yankee and Rauw Alejandro, with an additional song to Rauw previously released album SATURNO RELOADED.

Rauw Alejandro is also joined by his girlfriend in releasing bangers this January. La Rosalía, the Spanish artist released LLYLM, which stands for Lie Like You Love Me. Quite a title for a Spanish/English song, with a flamenco inspired sounds.

Quevedo follows closely by with his album released this month. Now there are many good songs on it, and he is certainly an artist to keep on your playlist if you like reggaetón, which is a bit different than the typical.

Moving on from reggaetón we have a rap song, heavy beats, gun sounds, and big words that’s what defines this song.

Going on to English spoken music. This month can’t go by without mentioning the artist Lil Yatchy. Yatchy who is known for his highly auto-tuned rapping has changes styles with this psychadelic inspired album, where he heavily samples Pink Floyd. I will be the first to say, I do not like the album as a whole, however Yatchy does have some really compelling songs on it which are worth the time.

And I would love to end this list with my favorite new star, Ice Spice. She delivers fun, catchy rap. Ice Spice has some great samples, delivers solid bars and just has so much fun with it - there’s not way to dislike her.

Listen to all the songs, right here on my Top 10 January Spotify playlist, or alternatively on my Tidal playlist.

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phoneuserhana333 · 9 months

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.°˖✧ neighbor!doctor!abby / neighbor!producer!reader headcanons .°˖✧

tags: enemies to friends to lovers, cocky!yn/annoyed!abby, mutual pining, dumb lesbians, unresolved tension, more to be added.

PART2 — PART3 — NSFWHC — N(SFW)HC

• after finishing med school, abby got a job at her dad’s private clinic outside of new york, which she quit after working there for a year

• during college, she was a victim of horrible gossip; everybody thought that she had it easy because of her dad being one of the best doctors in new york (to be fair, she was more privileged than other students because of this, but she would never admit it)

• and because of the desire to prove herself, she quit her “safe” job to go to work at the ER in the city to prove that she isn’t just somebody’s spoiled daughter who happened to be in the medical field

• she moved out closer to manhattan because of her new job, renting out a small brick red townhouse in a row of other copy-pasted houses, filling the shelves with books and the kitchen with spices. it was truly her home, which was something she took pride in.

• abby’s first interaction with her neighborhood critters went stellar; she met margaret, an old lady who lived across the street with her tortoiseshell cats clara and mima. margaret and abby grew close and she would go over to her house to have tea every saturday.

• abby’s second interaction with her neighbors however… didn’t go that as well as she thought it would

• she had some sense of what her next door neighbor was like- or at least she thought she did

• music would be blasting every night, approximately from 9pm to 6am- when she left for work. abby concluded that her neighbor was either a musician, a nepotism baby (pot calling the kettle black) or just insane.

• some days, her neighbor would be playing piano, guitar or banging on drums. on tuesdays, abby could hear her sing (“she’s screeching like a banshee manny, it’s like- 2:35am! wha- no, she doesn’t sound good, you’re just hearing things!”, she would complain to her friends) and on fridays, her mysterious musician neighbor held parties

• abby tired to be patient, but her abundant patience lasted her maybe one and a half month, before she found herself banging on her neighbor’s front door, dressed in a muscle tee with her hair falling out of her fishtail braid

• abby looked at her watch- 1244 steps, 4:22am, friday. she groaned and rubbed her face, realizing that she was about to meet her (probably very drunk) noisy neighbor, but to abby’s surprise- the door didn’t open

• she could hear the music turn down and a few girlish giggles behind the door, confusing her further

• right as the blonde started knocking again, the lights turned off and she could hear a familiar voice yell- “nobody’s home! go away!”, followed by muffled laughter

• this pushed abby over the edge- countless nights of sleeplessness, an irregular meal schedule and long day shifts at the ER finally caught up to her, and her annoying neighbor was about to be on the receiving end of her wraith

• “you’re troublesome, you know that?! always being so loud during the night, while some of us have work in the morning! get out here right fucking now and turn that god-awful music down!”

• abby let out a shaky, frustrated breath, suddenly being met with a tense silence, she took a step away from the door, thinking she finally got her neighbor to quiet down for once, before she hear that same agitating voice retort-

• “… whatever, grandma!”, followed by the music turning back on, laughter and chatter continuing into the night.

• by this point, abby’s chest and face were cherry red and she was stomping back to her house, trying to ignore the pang of embarrassment and frustration in her belly

• dr. anderson fell asleep with her earbuds in and woke up with a horrendous headache, only to have to get ready for her 7am shift at the hospital

• soon enough, abby was locking the door to her townhouse, double checking the contents of her lunch bag and briefcase (a gift from her dad, duh), when she noticed it, noticed her

• dressed in a kitsch black coat with fluffy white fur around the sleeves, donning gloves and a matching baby blue scarf in the middle of god forsaken october, was her favorite next door neighbor, blissfully unaware of the death stare she was receiving

• abby felt her eye twitch when she noticed her bare legs leaning against the railing that lead to her front door- the irony

• “hey! you!” abby made her way over to her neighbor’s staircase, nearly tripping over her bags and coat, before she stopped at the bottom, staring up at her with tired bloodshot eyes and a red, scrunched up face

• “um… hi? do i know you?”

• “don’t act all sweet now, you need to be put in your place. what the hell is wrong with you-“

• on the other hand, you lazily smiled, and continued staring at her. must be my lucky day, you thought, eyeing abby’s buff body and biting your lower lip, eyes sticking to her arms which were flailing around as she yelled at you for- oh, she’s the woman from last night!

• “y’know, you could’ve just joined us, right? i don’t bite”, you replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

• abby, who despite being caught off guard by your borderline flirty statement, was about to keep going off on you, suddenly got interrupted by her apple watch alarm, warning her that she’ll be late for work

• she looked back at you with storms in her eyes, her glare making you straighten up and cross your arms defensively; your neighbor wasn’t only hot, but also intimidating

• “i do. this isn’t over, you better be home later. we need to talk.”, and with that abby walked away, leaving you with the sight of her towering form disappearing in the streets of new york, prompting you to dramatically fan yourself as your body heated up from the sight

• oh, you were definitely feeling inspired now.

#abby anderson #abby #abby anderson x reader #tlou #tlou x reader #tlou x y/n #abby anderson x y/n #abby angst #ellie williams #joel miller #wlw #sapphic

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bellarose204 · 2 months

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OK OK GUYS HEAR ME OUT!!! This has been haunting my head lately-

OK so we know there's something about Willy Wonka and the chocolate factory and Fnaf have in common-

5 kids go to a candy factory = 5 kids were killed in a pizzeria

The laundry mat gang = the sister location gang

Charlie Bucket = Charlotte/Charlie Emily

Mike Teevee = Mike/Michael Afton

Noodle = Vanessa (probably)

Grandpa Joe = Henry Emily (since he mentioned he used to work for wonka)

OK OK NOW HERE'S THE PART I NEVER KNEW UNTIL NOW- (and yes my oc has been named this for a long time and yet I never knew)

Willy Wonka = William Afton

Clara Spice = Clara Afton

HOLY FUCKING SHIT YOU GUYS SOMEONE WRITE THIS SHIT DOWN FOR GAME THEORY!!!!

But who knows! "It's just a theory" 😏

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box-dwelling · 6 months

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Shit that I don't think is RTD being passive aggressive about the other show runners because they're his colleagues and he seems like a nice dude but deserved to be passive aggressive jabs because he is not a hack fraud from The Giggle.

The only thing from chibanls era being brought up by the toymaker being the emotional fall out of the flux, a thing chibnal had no interest in exploring despite clearly being the most interesting thing in his run

Spice up your life, being a reference to the Rasputin number which is the only other good thing chibnal ever did but that RTD still beat his ass with

Having 90% of the supporting cast be women, all written distinctively and empathetically and non of whom showed any interest in the doctor a thing moffat could never do

This is pre his era but actually writing a proper arc and personality for Mel.

Honestly the entire you are running from your trauma arc seems like a chibnal slight because he really did not care to write that shit at all

Bigenerataion. Feels like he just decided the timeless child fucks with the lore enough he can have Ncuti break it in his underwear with a comically oversized hammer. Which is deeply correct of him.

The Clara was killed by a bird line

Please tell me if I missed anything

#doctor who #doctor who spoilers #dw #dw spoilers #rtd2 #rtd #ncuti gatwa #fourteenth doctor #fifteenth doctor #the giggle #whoniverse #anti chibnall #anti moffat

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alicentshair · 4 months

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Taylor Swift demands Jack Sweeney stop tracking her jet - The Washington Post (archive.org)

^ Link to the article without paywall

This honestly does it for me. After all the TS oversaturation the past year (and yes, I did enjoy Eras and supported her music until Midnights; Lord knows I've listened to her since I was a preteen), I'm surrendering my [casual] Swiftie card. I've tried to like her as a person/brand (brand is the better word) but now I cannot dissociate her image from her music anymore (I can't "kill" the artist from the art anymore).

How she straight-up acted in the Grammys (the Celine snub then PR cleanup, making the awards show all about her, the strategic announcement of TPD, I could go on objectively but yeah) might just be the tipping point already. And who am I, right? What's one less listener? What's one less woman who denounces TS's white feminism and performative/selective activism?

I've ignored the M*tt H**ly debacle, the Ice Spice tokenization, the Olivia Rodrigo royalties issue which I knew against my will, the Person of the Year hot water, the brat pack upgrade featuring Republican Lana Del Rey, the 'self-made' origins myth debunked, the rubbing elbows with Mahomes, the ever-growing rabid fanbase out for blood, and so on, so on.

As a person of color I just want these things out. If 'feminism' is enabling this billionaire to get away with her crimes (yes, she's a climate criminal now for me, what with using her jet as a taxi to see her newest boytoy across the globe), then I'm not seated. If 'feminism' is shrugging off her response or lack of action towards the fan, Ana Clara, who died in the Brazil leg of the tour, then I am speaking now.

I guess, it's finally been exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero.

#ongoing updates to the post for sources #if a swiftie mutual sees this i'm sorry but i assert for my blog to be a safe space #i won't entertain aggressive asks if there need be #and if a conversation must happen may it happen maturely #i've loved her music all these years but i can't keep turning a blind eye #anti taylor swift #covert narcissism disguised as altruism something something #sel.txt

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undead-supernova · 3 months

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I'll Pay the Price, You Won't.

The Room Burned Down

Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4

Masterlist

This chapter is based off of Dancing With Our Hands Tied and I'm curious to see what people think about me twisting around the perspective of who is actually relating more to the songs

plot: maybe going to award shows together isn't as fun as you think it's gonna be...so, baby, can we dance through an avalanche?...I'd hold you as the water rushes in...

Pairings: modernrockstar!Eddie x fem!popstar!Reader (curvy!reader, bisexual!reader)

Warnings: public shaming, some fluff, a hint of spice, arguments, smoking, mentions of addiction, mentions of abuse, mentions of fatphobia

easter egg count: 29

wc: 5.8k

“Do I have to talk to the press?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” your manager, Clara, said, typing away on her phone.

“They’re going to rake me across the coals.”

It had been nearly a month since your first date with him. Despite his hope that the noise would die down, it was only exasperated by the fact that you two hadn’t been seen out in public, sparking breakup rumors. But it was only that he had his promo and you had yours, traveling round and round with no time to rest. You even had outfit fittings for this very event that kept you in two different cities. It hadn’t put any strain on your relationship. If anything, it did the opposite. You lived your own lives, calling when possible. Texting nonstop once you caught a break at the same time. It was all so new for you.

Clara looked at you through the reflection of the mirror, her professional face on. “If they do, just smile and walk away. Thank them for their time. Just try to stay neutral like you always do. You’ll be perfect, I promise.”

Knock.

You peered over at the wall, a smile forming on your lips.

You knew exactly who would pull that move.

Knock, knock, you sent back.

Knock, knock, knock.

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

“Stop it, oh my god.”

A giggle left your lips. “Sorry.”

It was merely a coincidence that Corroded Coffin was getting ready for the American Music Awards on the same floor as you…directly next to you, that is. All by happenstance and absolutely nothing else. There was no coordination whatsoever and if anyone accused you of such a thing, you’d deny it.

But here you were, causing mischief within the first hour of being situated. To be fair, you hadn’t seen Eddie yet, rushed off before Corroded Coffin even showed up. It was whiplash, Clara already spouting off the plans for the night. The time you’d get into the car. When you’d get out. The red carpet. Reminding you how to pose, how to smile. All the while, people floated around you with makeup brushes and endless cups of coffee. Hushed whispers and sighs.

Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.

When you didn’t respond, you watched your door open in the reflection with Eddie stepping in, dodging the assistants and the assistant’s assistant running around. You smiled as you took in his appearance. Loose t-shirt and sweatpants, all cozy and soft. Hair damp, bangs pulled back. You noticed he’d been sat down for makeup, only one of his eyelids dusted in navy eye shadow.

God, you’d missed him.

“What’re you doing in here?” you asked, nearly jumping up to give him the biggest kiss he’d ever received. But when your knees jerked, Clara placed a hand on your shoulder to keep you down. The pout on your lips wouldn’t even sway her.

“You didn’t answer my knock,” Eddie said, trying to sound innocent, placing a hand over his chest. “I thought you were dead.”

You giggled, but Clara only sighed, shaking her head as she fought a smile. “I can’t believe you both. Like toddlers, I swear.” She turned to Eddie. “Get out of here. We leave in two hours, and I know that hair takes at least one. Don’t make me call Paige.”

Eddie sent you a wink from the shadowed eye. “See you later, babe.”

You chuckled. “Bye, Eddie.”

Today was big for the two of you. Big big. You were sitting at a reserved table with Corroded Coffin. Just you, Eddie, Grant, Gareth, Jeff, and Ronnie. All together. In public. On TV.

Your boyfriend would be with you unlike the last few wanting nothing to do with the exposure, usually hiding across the room. But Eddie insisted, only wanting to be near you all night. There for you, rooting for you as you were there for him, rooting for him. Getting to spend time with his close friends and his girlfriend.

Everything was starting to fall into place. The noise was becoming more bearable the more they stayed out of earshot. The world was unable to penetrate the magnificent walls you’d built around your hearts. And if you could just get through tonight without a fuck up or a bout of controversy, everything would be okay.

When you emerged from your hotel room, nearly ten minutes late, you found Eddie waiting for you, dark eyes widened as he looked over your outfit. You were in a Sixties Go-go dancer fantasy with a sparkly pink romper, the straps wrapped around your neck. Tall block-heeled boots reaching your knees. A thick pink boa to drape over your elbows. Dripping in jewels.

An absolute daydream.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” Eddie exclaimed, picking you up and spinning you around, the boa floating to the floor. You took in his scent, that beautiful mixture of nicotine and bergamot from whatever cologne he’d started wearing lately. His breath was fresh against your neck, your ear, your jaw. His warmth bleeding through his double-breasted navy suit, textured from the polyester and cherry blossom pattern.

When a nearly silent gasp left your lips, Eddie wasted no time with hiding himself with his hair and nipping at your neck. Your grasp on his shoulders tightened as his fingers dug into your sides. Feeling his tongue lightly flick over the mark made you feel, well, insane. Had it really been an entire month without his breath? Had you really spent an entire mouth with his voice over the phone, guiding you through your orgasms as you whined and begged for him? Had you really gone this long without him?

Despite wanting to pull him back into the room and rip off his ridiculously expensive clothes, you grabbed your boa and his hand before jogging towards the elevator.

Jeff, Grant, Gareth, and Ronnie were already down at the car, probably drinking complimentary champagne and getting ready to sit in the audience for four hours, waiting for their names to be called. You couldn’t blame them. It did get rather boring after a while of the cameras and commercial breaks and announcers and performances. You’d almost been asked to perform, but before you could say yes, they asked Olivia to do it instead. It wasn’t something you minded, but there was a little part of you had felt sad at the loss.

But you were here to have fun, not worrying about who was who or what people had to say about you. Just have fun with the people who knew what real fun was. Be able to survive the night.

Survive. Endure. Have fun.

As you made your way through to the lobby, hand in hand, you glanced over at Eddie again. You couldn’t believe how beautiful he was, always seeming to take your breath away. It was an accurate cliché, but one that couldn’t fully encompass how you felt. Hell, the English language wasn’t even enough.

“You’re a vision in navy,” you complimented, taking him in once again.

“Apparently, it’s a deep Prussian,” he corrected before rolling his eyes.

“Oh, my bad,” you replied sarcastically.

“Hey!”

Paige was storming towards you, scowling.

When you looked at Eddie, he just smiled at her and waved. “Paige, how lovely to see you tonight.”

But Paige merely groaned. “Get your asses to the car.”

“Look how beautiful my girlfriend is.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh my god, Eddie—”

“Cut it, Romeo,” Paige interrupted, shoving you through the door and into the limo with the rest of the band. Everyone cheered, handing you both champagne before clinking your glasses together.

You couldn’t help but look over at Eddie, his grin just as wide as yours.

I’m so in love with you, you thought, so close to letting it fall out. I’m so, so in love with you.

“Come on,” Paige shouted, making you flinch as you watched her signal to the driver. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

As soon as you were let out of the car, Clara led you away from the group, ushering you towards the photo ops and interviews. Men behind cameras called your name, begged for your attention. This was still something you found strange, like being held in a cage. You were to be spectated, gawked at by the public as nothing more than a show. A source of entertainment that extended far beyond your comprehension.

But Clara had trained you for this since the first time you ever stepped out on one of these carpets. You knew how to give them what they wanted. So, you put your hand on your hip. Pivoted every few seconds for different angles. Let the light hit your highlighter at just the right moment. A smirk. A laugh. Shiny smile. Shiny eyes.

It killed you the moment you heard your boyfriend’s name being called from behind you, harmonious with the sound of the rest of their names being shouted out. The photographers were going nuts as they found their way onto the carpet. You wanted to look back at him, wanted to admire how he shone.

Because he did. He always did.

Eddie Munson knew how to shine without even breathing. Without talking. Without smiling. He could part a crowd like it was nothing, could bring everyone to their knees if he merely snapped his fingers. It was undeniable.

Everyone wanted him.

And, dangerously, he was all yours.

“You’ve been busy!”

You chuckled, trying to keep your eyes from flickering over at the camera being shoved in your face. This was the first interview of the night, the first of five. Five. It was something you’d agreed to months ago, but you didn’t realize just how taxing it would feel until the blonde woman in front of you stuck her microphone up to your lips.

“Oh, yeah!” you responded. “With writing the new album and thinking about the next tour and stuff, I’ve just been running around and trying to keep everything in check. Plus, Acacia My Dear means so much to me, I don’t want another album to overshadow that hard work.”

“And I’m sure you get a lot of support from your new boyfriend, Eddie Munson.”

You’d anticipated the mention, mulled it over and let yourself spiral late at night. But nothing prepared you for your dry mouth, for the lump in your throat as you began to scramble for an answer.

“Well, I’ve been really focused on my music,” you responded.

But she wasn’t letting up. “Will there be any songs about him on the new album?”

“I think art is always up for interpretation.” You smiled bigger despite your frustration, looking over her shoulder and pretending to notice someone. “I have to go, thank you.”

But you weren’t out of the woods yet.

“Have you collaborated with your boyfriend on anything?”

“I really like to write by myself. The songwriting and the music are so important to me. Obviously, it’s important to the people who are so talented in different ways. I’m just grateful that people seem to care about it as much as I do.”

“You and Eddie are so different. How does that translate at shows like this?”

“I think everyone is here because they’re successful and talented at what they do. I can only hope that I measure up tonight.”

“Do you think Corroded Coffin has a chance tonight?”

“Everyone here is so talented. I hope that everyone gets a chance to shine as much as they do. I know that winning isn’t everything, but I hope I have a good shot.”

“Is your new album influenced by Eddie’s sound at all?”

“I’m talented and successful because of the sound I’ve cultivated and what I do. I think that I will continue to evolve as an artist and as a songwriter and, for me, I believe that I have been doing just that.”

Four more interviews and each one talked about Eddie and not your music. Not your success. You hissed to your publicist that no one was allowed to even mutter Eddie’s name in an interview again and she furiously nodded and apologized. Clara nearly told you to cool it, but you stormed off into the venue. You didn’t want to hear from her. You’d done your fucking job.

When you spotted Eddie inside talking to Grant, you immediately found yourself in his arms. Away from the cameras. Away from the vultures.

“Eddie.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said softly, rubbing your back.

“I think I’m gonna cry,” you gasped, anxiety flooding your system. Your hands were shaking, mind frenzied by the noise and the people and the fucking embarrassment.

“No, hey. It’s alright. Tell me what happened.”

You pulled back, but Eddie kept his hands on your waistline. Kept you close.

“They just kept bringing you up. I tried to steer it all away back to my music, but they just kept going.”

“Hey, they asked me that shit, too.”

“What did you say?”

“I said that my relationship is private, but I’m proud of all your hard work right now. ‘Cause I am.”

Immediately, you felt like a shitty girlfriend. “I should’ve said that. I’m sor—"

“Look at me, baby,” he interrupted, searching your eyes. “Tell me your favorite Beatles song right now. Hm?”

Searching your mind, you were caught on the only lyrics that came to mind.

“Life is very short and there’s no time for fussing and fighting, my friend.”

“‘We Can Work It Out’.”

“And we can,” he replied with a small smile, tapping your chin. You nodded. “Let’s just go sit down with everyone and try to bring the energy back, alright? I’m right here with you, baby. Always.”

But there were other lyrics to that song, ones that echoed even louder.

“Try to see it my way

Only time will tell if I am right or I am wrong

While you see it your way

There’s a chance that we may fall apart before too long.”

Everything was turned around, the smiles and the laughter returning you to your senses. Corroded Coffin won the only award they were up for tonight. Naturally. After that, Jeff had pulled out a hidden deck of cards. You, him, Eddie, and Gareth were in a mean game of Go Fish, giggling your way through Gareth trying to cheat.

You were hardly listening when someone said your name onstage. Looking up from your cards, you heard the tail end of it.

“…is about to switch genres, sitting over there with her new boyfriend.” The crowd around you laughed. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see, won’t we?”

You saw Eddie’s hand in your peripheral vision, saw the middle finger starting to lift, and pushed his hand down. No need to make a scene.

“Quick, Eddie. Don’t get too close!”

Without hesitation, Gareth, Grant, Jeff, and Ronnie all stood up and flipped him off. Ronnie even pointed hers directly at the camera filming your reaction.

The audience gasped while other celebs at tables cheered them on.

What the fuck was happening?

Eddie glanced at you before getting up and stepping onto his chair. Slowly, he raised his middle finger.

The crowds roared, the presenter starting to look embarrassed as the whole room turned into chaos. Dozens of pictures captured their defiance, their retaliation.

And you?

Well, you sat there with a neutral expression, already trained in the art of disguising your emotions. Your lips didn’t hold a smile or a frown, something set in the middle. You controlled your eyes to stay in position, refusing to widen or fall half-lidded. Refusing to look up at your boyfriend.

But inside, you were something else entirely.

Full of rage at the jokes, full of fear at the way Eddie’s whole band went to bat for you. Furious at yourself for being unable to find the will to stand up with them. Terrified at what the world was about to say about it. Humiliated that they felt the need to pull a stunt to a stupid joke you’d heard a million times.

“Woah, woah, guys! Calm down!” the presenter said with a shaky laugh. He was clearly not anticipating what was happening. “It’s all jokes, promise. All jokes. Nice organization, though, truly. Anyways, moving on to the next category. Here presenting the award—”

As everyone sat back down, Jeff and Gareth went back to their game like it was nothing.

You turned to your boyfriend. “Eddie—”

“No,” he said simply, his eyes meeting yours. “I can’t just let them do that. People have to know that it’s not okay.”

“Eddie, they’re gonna talk about us,” you said, noticing your southern accent bleeding through. Fuck. “Y’all can’t just do that. Think of tomorrow, think of—”

“And the nominees are for Best Pop Album are…”

You had to look away, remember where you were. Because that was your name they were saying up there, yourface they were zoning in on.

And it was you that everyone was looking at as you were declared the winner.

You began standing, Eddie helping to pull out your chair. Turning to him, you thought about kissing him, thought about hugging him. Thought about giving him any sliver of physical affection while the world was watching.

His hand reached out for yours, but you gave him a small smile before dipping your head and walking toward that stage. Alone. Without anyone by your side to help you up the steps. The applause was nearly deafening, the support seemingly louder than before.

But you had to focus, clearing your throat as you took the shiny award, resembling a shard of glass ready to pierce your skin at a moment’s notice. You reminded yourself of where you were, what you were doing. What you had to do. Face the world yet again.

Leaning into the microphone, you began.

“I’d really like to thank my record label for giving me the opportunity to explore new sounds and trusting me with the writing and producing process. Acacia My Dear is obviously a play on the Beatles song and I was so inspired to create an album centered around a fictional version of myself that I created. To tell that story was so euphoric and beautiful.” A few cheers sounded. “My art is what keeps me going and I’ll never stop loving it. Never. Um,” you stumbled, looking back out at the crowd before back at your award.

There were words on your togue.

I’d like to thank Eddie for being so supportive these last five months.

But you only shook your head.

“So, yeah, this is for the fans and the many, many young queer women out there who want to make music. Y’all—” you paused, careful to switch your accent back. “You all can do it and you can be successful.” You lifted the award high into the air. “If I can, you can, too. Thank you.”

You’d made it to the vacant bathroom, made it to the sink in time to feel yourself start to lose it.

This wasn’t the time to lose it.

You couldn’t.

But you were.

Being an outcast in high school was something you had in common with Eddie. While your circumstances differed and you didn’t know much about his past, you knew that you were both given the same nickname. Freak. You weren’t too sure exactly how you were supposed to be much of a freak, but you’d been labeled as such since grade school. It was always something new, from your interests to your appearance to whatever you said or did in class. The punchline to bets made by boys in the name of sheer boredom.

But girls and boys are both cruel. And whoever said boys shouldn’t hit girls never went to your schools. You were pushed into walls. Punched. Called names. Cyberbullied once emailing became a thing. Humiliated on social media once that came around. You were ugly, fat. Freak. A wannabe musician who had no talent. Freak. A loner who sat by herself and wrote during recess because nobody liked you enough to let you to play with them. Freak. Booed when you sang at your talent shows, left uninvited to sleepovers and birthday parties.

Freak.

The only thing you held sacred was your music that you recorded on GarageBand and uploaded to YouTube and Soundcloud, back when all of that was way more popular. It gained traction somehow, your song “High Walls” getting thousands upon thousands of views and praise. A record label saw the spike and took a chance on you, thinking you were talented enough at eighteen to make it big.

And you did.

But you still had nightmares about those days. Spent time in therapy talking about how ridiculous you felt that you were still haunted by teenage girls and boys, all surrounding you with hollering laughter and pointed fingers. How you still heard their words echo in your mind whenever you looked online and saw the vile things being said about you. Still felt the sting of salt in your wounds whenever friends you’d made would stab you in the back.

The sound of heels brought you back to your reality, brought you back to the faint hum of the performance on the other side of the theater. For a moment, you thought that maybe Ronnie or Clara decided to see if you were okay.

But you were disappointed to find some actress you forgot the name of. You recognized her face and nothing more. Her dark hair curled down to her shoulders, showered in golden eyeshadow and body glitter. She recognized you immediately, eyebrows shooting up at the mere sight of you.

But she kept moving to the other side, holding her words back. You knew they were coming, anticipated them as she got settled. Her lips wrapped around a vape, her back and one red pump pressed against the wall.

Crossing her arms, she began her prodding. “Some show, huh?”

You only shrugged.

“Want a hit?”

You looked at her, seeing that the offer was coming from a place of understanding rather than passing judgment or niceties. Because her mouth was scrunched up to the side, like she felt bad for you. Like she was genuinely just trying to figure out how to help.

And though you never really smoked cigarettes all that often, you took it from her and pulled a long drag. Well, maybe too long. The rush of nicotine hit you hard, dizzying before you felt the release. Like you were flying, like you were escaping from whatever hell you were being trapped in. And it was fleeting, the moment ending as soon as the cloud of smoke left your lips.

You handed it back to her. “Thanks,” you said with a breathy laugh. The familiar taste of MAC lipstick lingered on your tongue.

“Yeah, no problem.”

Thinking the interaction was over with, you went back to looking at yourself. Your mind was close to clearing, was so close to being brought back from the brink of madness. If you could just get through the night without another hiccup or mistake, maybe everything would be okay. Maybe if you stayed perfectly calm—

“Eddie Munson, huh?”

You refrained from letting out a scoff, your impulse control not strong enough to keep you from throwing up your hand before it slapped against the counter.

“Yeah. Eddie Munson.”

She noticed your irritation but didn’t get upset. She only watched you, tilting her head as she took another drag.

“What’s he like?”

The question rang in your head, echoing around you like there were a million voices asking at once. Because he was the one that everyone wanted, the one everyone gravitated towards. He was yours but he was also everyone else’s. Even if you could separate the two, could extract him from their narratives and stories, they would still be there. All rallied behind him like an army following blindly in his honor.

But it wasn’t like they would do the same for you, was it? No, you were an outsider to the genre, to the subculture that he was in. You were just some popstar who didn’t get it, didn’t get him. Chasing a momentary high like that drag you took. Here one second, gone the next. Lulling him into the haze before fading into the gray. And you realized that even if you were given the chance to be with him forever, a chance that now seemed extremely slim, you would never truly be the sole person who got to keep him.

Loving him forever comes with a cost.

Looking back at your reflection, you sighed.

“A dream.”

Before you gave her any time to respond, you left.

Your ride back to the hotel was quiet, Eddie’s breathing becoming ragged with every red light they endured. He was worrying you, not even looking you in the eye when you got back to your seat. For the rest of the night. When you got a car together. When you stepped into the lobby. The elevator.

But then Eddie was taking off his blazer, trudging down the hallway, the boom of his combat boots bouncing off the walls.

“Eddie, what’s wrong?” you asked, trying to keep up.

“You barely even touched me the whole night.”

“Y’all stood up and made a scene!”

“Because he was being a goddamn prick.”

“I know, but that’s why you just don’t give them a reaction! It just causes more attention and then people think you do it because you want attention and then it just gets spun into something it’s not because people love drama—"

“No,” Eddie said harshly, turning around to face you. “I don’t care about that. I don’t care about the fucking internet. I wanted to congratulate you on your win and yet you just walked away. It hurt.”

“What you guys did hurt me. It was unprofessional.”

Eddie stopped then, pausing to really look at you for what felt like the first time since the band stood up.

But he had no time to respond.

“Hey, what the fuck are you yelling at him for?!” Ronnie shouted down the hall, her boots just as loud as his.

She really did look a lot like Eddie, with the same curly hair and hardened stare. The same protective nature, the same wild heart. But her eyes were void of any compassion, any sympathy. She was fucking pissed, and it was only directed at you.

You narrowed your eyes. “Did y’all ever think about how I’d feel about it? It was tough enough to publicly sit—”

“I’m so sorry that sitting at a table with your boyfriend and his friends is such a chore for you.”

Behind her, Gareth, Grant, and Jeff approached, their laughter cut short at the intensity of her words. Eyes trained on the scene in front of them. All three men silent, all three men watching the showdown that you didn’t ask to be a part of.

“Ronnie,” Eddie said. It sounded more like a warning, but she was still looking at you, still ready to pounce.

And so, she did.

“You’re a coward,” Ronnie seethed. “You’re lucky to have someone like him and I know you’ll gladly throw it away just because it isn’t the fucking fairytale you imagined. This is real life, sweetie. I know you sit there in your fantasy world with your sugarcoated lyrics and your fake smile. Too afraid to let anyone know how you really feel. Too afraid to hold your boyfriend’s fucking hand. A goody two-shoes who does nothing but cry about how unfair her life is even though you have everything you could ever need.

“You think you’re risking everything for him? For us? No. You’re not risking a goddamn thing if you just sit there and take it. Avoid it. Act like it’s not happening. We stood up for you because we fucking care about Eddie and Eddie cares about you. We didn’t have to do that. We could’ve just let him make fun of you for three more hours and let you get humiliated. But we did that, and I don’t care if you didn’t like it. You needed help. And you’re an idiot for acting like this has anything to do with professionalism.

“You’re nothing but a coward. I can only hope you’ll change your fucking attitude for Eddie’s sake. But if you’re going to keep acting like this, you need to leave him and us the hell alone. Don’t drag someone into your fucking mess if you can’t clean it up.”

You tried not to cry in front of her, tried not to give in to bending and breaking of your soul. Her speech was loud, deafening, ringing in your ears like waves crashing into each other. Instead of replying, you turned and ran into your hotel room and slammed the door behind you. Sobs escaped your lips as you did everything you could to take all that shit off. Threw the boa on the floor. Threw your shoes at the headboard. Let your jewelry land wherever the fuck it wanted.

But your romper was harder, sticking to your skin with the sweat and nerves and—

The door opened, Eddie rushing into the room like it was burning down. And in some ways, it really felt like it. The heat and the sweat and the nerves and the way Ronnie shot those flaming arrows, the way it set your brain afire. The way it was starting to spread.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry about Ronnie. She gets really protective of me; it’s been a thing since we were kids—"

“Maybe this is too much,” you interrupted, “Maybe she’s right. Maybe you’d be better off with someone less messy. Less cowardly.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Are you suggesting we break up?”

“I just,” you started, watching his eyes start to widen. “I don’t know. I feel like your whole life is being thrown into chaos because of me and I don’t want you having to change your whole life or fuckin’ feel the need to defend me on national television. It’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to Grant and Gareth and Jeff and Ronnie.”

“Baby, I want you, okay? I’m willing to push through the bullshit if it means that I’ll get to fucking see you at the end of the day or week or even month. You’ve changed my life.”

You shook your head. He was lying, he had to be. Or he was living in delusion, riding on that fucking fairytale that Ronnie claimed you’d created. That wasn’t his reality, wasn’t yours.

“You just don’t understand, Eddie!”

Eddie’s jaw clenched. “I know this is hard on you. I know. But you’re not the only one hurting, okay? I don’t like this any more than you do, and I don’t think it’s fair that you’re acting like I don’t get it. People call me a man whore or a player or whatever. And even though I recovered, people still think I’m a fucking cokehead. That shit is brutal. I’m not this crazy person who does what all the bands did in the Sixties or Seventies. Hell, even the Eighties and Nineties.”

Your eyebrows pulled in tight at his admittance.

“It sickens me,” he continued, his stare intensifying. “I’m just a loser who got lucky and got out of a shitty small town.” He gestured away from himself. “I’m still that loser. That freak. And I was never given a chance by girls after we blew up—hell, most guys laughed at me. I had to just figure this out for myself, and I,” he gestured back to himself, “have chosen to remove myself from it. Remove myself from that picture they’ve painted for me. And then I found someone who fucking understands.”

As you listened, Eddie’s hand came back down, brushing against yours before weaving your fingers together.

“Someone who sees the world like I do and chooses me despite it being so…so loud. And you have spent your life thinking you have to do this alone. I get it. So did I. But one thing I’ve learned that you haven’t is that you don’t have to do this alone. We got you. I got you.”

“This is going to look so bad for you,” you whispered, tears running down your cheeks.

Eddie shook his head. “I don’t care.”

Your head shook for you, rapidly denying his words.

“And the rest of the band.”

His fingers met the back of your head, trying to soothe you as he rubbed circles into the muscles.

“I don’t care.”

Your eyes searched his as you tried to make sense of it all, make sense of the fact that he was still here. He hadn’t left. He’s saying things that no one, no one, had said to you before and meant so fervently.

“And me,” you finished, barely above a whisper.

He paused for a split second, long enough for you to catch it before he finally looked away, tucking his lip into his mouth.

His forehead bumped against yours, taking a deep breath. You did the same, breathing him in as you tried to find the will to stay.

To fight.

To keep whatever the hell it was that you had.

“Baby, I want to be with you.” His eyes shot back up to yours, tears collecting in his eyes.

“And I want our privacy. Trust me, I understand how you feel. But I still want to go outside and be as normal as we can. I wanna go get dinner and coffee and do whatever the fuck we want. I want to post a picture of you and dedicate my songs to you and be open and whatever the fuck else I want.”

“I feel the same way.”

“I know you do, baby. That’s why I want you to understand me. I want the same things you do, and I want us to figure out a solution together. I know we can do it. I just know. So don’t…don’t go.”

You closed your eyes, choking on a sob as you tried to make sense of it all. How he could still be here, fighting for you to keep going.

“Eddie…”

His hands clutched onto yours as he sniffled. You felt his tears landing on your skin.

“Stay.”

This was messy. You were messy. A big, huge, ginormous mess that was getting in the way of everyone else’s happiness. Being everyone else’s disappointment. It was only a matter of time before you fucked up and ruined this. Ruined him.

But he’s still there, asking you not to leave.

“Is it really that simple?” you asked.

“Look at me.”

And you did, watching his tears cascade down his cheeks. Watching as his face grew desperate, watching as his lip quivered.

“Please, don’t go. Stay.”

#Eddie munson #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie x reader #Eddie Munson x female reader #boyfriend!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie x you #rockstar!Eddie x popstar!reader #I nearly cried thinking this was the worst thing I'd ever written so I hope I did okay #surprise drop of this chapter lol

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shinyzango · 9 days

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So, about that "A Steampunk Carol" graphic novel...

I totally did not forget to make the post about it like I promised I am so sorry.

For those who are not familiar with it, long story short a while ago I came across a Kickstarter project for what seemed to be a steampunk adaptation of the Nutcracker story and was bummed that I missed out on it and wasn't able to support and secure a copy for myself, but a fella made me aware that it did actually get published in Italy a few years ago, and that it was sold on Amazon. And after discovering that there was literally only one copy left, I bought it on a whim to both read it and to hopefully attract more attention to it for reasons I'll discuss in just a bit.

I'm just going to say that I'm very back at writing reviews so apologies if this doesn't say anything at the end or if you didn't get the answers to your questions dkfjgn

Alright, now for the book itself.

First things first, the story. I won't go into details right now as I do not want to spoil folks in case this does get released in english to a wider public, but I can add a Spoilers section in the future where I explain in detail what happens if I get asked about it.

The story, like I said, is an adaptation of the Nutcracker And The Mouse King, but it is quite different in many elements, and spices things up quite a bit, especially after the introduction.

Sadly it feels quite rushed in its execution imo, I assume it's because they had to fit everything in a single volume. Which is a shame because there are many concepts and ideas that are very fascinating and interesting, both for the plot and for the characters themselves.

Speaking of the characters, they are quite unique and interesting.

The main kid, Caitlin, who is the Clara/Marie of the story, can be a little sassy, but she still feels grounded and has a good balance between putting down her foot and being nervous about the situation. I don't mind her character.

The Nutcracker, who is only called Schiaccia (just a shortened "Schiaccianoci" which is nutcracker in italian. I assume he's called Cracker in english if they kept that logic), feels solid. He's a loyal soldier, skilled but does show hints of insecurities. A good lad.

The mice are great as well, I'm really intrigued by the lore they cooked up for them, and the Mouse King is actually not bad, and I like what they did with his character.

There's also another supporting character, a tin soldier who goes by Sergeant Idle. He is basically a companion to the Nutcracker. He is basically a plot tool, helping with the backstory and moving the story forward, but not in a bad way. He's very enjoyable.

I would have loved to see them all explored further, but like I said it all feels rushed probably because it had to stick all in a single volume. I don't know if the authors ever considered this to become a series or if it's just a one-shot story, but I would honestly love to see this evolve into a series, if only because I love the characters and I would love to know more about the lore they cooked up for it more in detail, letting all the elements have the time to shine.

Moving on to the graphic...

I love Lorenza's art style. It looks very sketchy, with a clean roughness to it if that makes sense. And I really like all the designs of the characters.

(Apologies for the glares, I tried my hardest to limit them as much as possible. also ngl I'm giggling a little seeing how Schiaccia looks similar to my Hans skdfkjhn)

All in all, I really like this adaptation. It's unique and enjoyable, if only a little rushed.

Like I mentioned before, this was Kickstarted a while ago to get properly published in english. It was successfully funded and as far as I know, they're currently in the process of printing copies if not even shipping them for the backers. I still don't know if the folks at Last Ember Press are planning in making it available to purchase outsite the Kickstart, but I really hope so because I do think this deserves to be available to everyone.

#crappy review is crappy ksdjng #these are just my thoughts don't mind me #nutcracker #the nutcracker

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