#it's been a lot of fake it til you make it but hey.... maybe that's all it takes

[avarkriss]

i dusted today.

the alarm to clean went off, and i got up and dusted until the 20 minute timer went off. turns out in that time, if i'm focused, i can do nearly the whole upstairs.

it's such a little thing, but we have to be kind to ourselves, you know? even if you little thing today is just getting out of bed, or brushing your teeth, or breathing for another day, we should be proud of ourselves.

maybe it really does get better

#love yourself through it - especially if it's hard #genuinely thanking every kind soul that left so much helpful advice for me #therapist and i are working on finding an app next as i find i struggle with breaking big tasks into small pieces #and the overwhelm causes The Stuck so... we're making progress lads #it's been a lot of fake it til you make it but hey.... maybe that's all it takes #just keep saying it'll get better til it does #if you need someone to say they're proud of you /i'm/ proud of you #proud of me too actually.... which is weird #anyways enough rambling i need to go pick up dog food and paint chips

[pedgito]

𝐟𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𓆩♡𓆪 𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫!𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: your career was built on luck and fortunate circumstances, but that was bound to run out at some point. enter eddie munson, rockstar extraordinaire, the reason for your life being thrust into chaos—but, fake it til you make it, right?

cw: 18+ (minors dni), fem!reader, small age gap (25/29), establish friendships with steve & reader (hints of musician!steve), enemies to…something, fake relationships, mentions of misogyny toward reader, awkward first meetings, mentions of substance abuse, social media posts inserted through the fic (texts), fingering and handjobs, drinking and messing around inebriated, use of rings for nefarious purposes, lots of teasing and cocky eddie. i might have missed something so lmk!

word count: 12k

The call happened on a random Sunday morning, following a long night of partying with not nearly enough alcohol, head still pounding from the music and flashing lights of the club. You buried your head further into your pillow, swiped the screen to answer, and muffled a gruff, “What?” into the air.

Thus thrusting you into the most ridiculous conversation you’ve ever witnessed, immediately pushing from your bed and snatching the phone between your fingers, staring at the black screen of your phone, the monotone voice of your agent boring through the receiver—this had to be a joke.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t—and it’s how you ended up standing in the office of your show’s executive team, arms crossed firmly over your chest as they laid out the plan. The fucking plan. The seemingly full proof, highly thought out plan that would not only boost the ratings for the premiere through the roof, but would also bring in an insane amount of attention to the other party.

Him. Eddie Munson, who stood on the other side of the small room, similarly positioned and not believing a single word of shit spilling out of their mouths. If there was anyone who you could care less about, or even despise the idea of having a fake relationship with—it was him. 

Known womanizer, constantly getting caught with groupies after shows, one scandal after another, it was like putting a wrecking ball to a career you had spent a decade building. You didn’t care how good the money sounded, the benefits to it, none of it.

“Absolutely fucking not,” You reply snidely, earning wide eyes from your team, and an even more surprised look from the higher-ups seated at the table, all buttoned up their suits and poised to seem professional, “—not a chance, no.”

“Listen—“ One of the men starts, pen flipping nervously in his hand. He had to be new, less experienced in this world, his voice shaking as he spoke, “just hear us out.”

“No, I heard you,” You chuckle lightly, pointing vaguely in the direction of Eddie, “you want me to sign your stupid little contract and tie myself to a man who, just recently, was caught hanging out with underage girls after a concert—“

“Hey, that’s not my fault—“ Eddie defends weakly, “I can’t control what my bandmates do.”

“You’re literally the lead guitarist and singer,” You say defensively, “—that shit directly affects you.”

How he didn’t realize that was beyond you, his face caught up in a sudden realization, he stayed silent. 

“The ratings will be record breaking,” It was one of the main producers, offering up a small morsel of positivity, “brand deals, appearances—this stuff has worked in the past.”

“How?” Eddie asks curiously, catching your pointed gaze, eyes narrowing in scrutiny. He shakes it off, turned toward the group of men seated at the table. “What do we have to do?”

“Public appearances, obviously.” They begin, “We’ll stage some candid pictures by tipping off paparazzi, maybe even some interviews, it’s all strictly professional—it just depends on how much you two want to sell it.”

“We’ve never been seen in public together before,” You say defensively, “how will that look?”

“I don’t think that’ll matter.” 

“His band is covering the opening song for the show—isn’t that suspicious?” You ask, trying to find any reason to hope this plan would fall apart.

“People eat that stuff up,” Your agent provides softly, trying not to step on any toes, “I don’t think they’ll care.”

“I don’t think it’s a horrible idea,” Eddie says with a slight falter in his voice, just as unsure as you were, but still hanging onto the small glint of optimism, “but it can’t be one-sided—we both have to be all in or it’s going to crash and burn pretty quick.”

“It’s a terrible idea,” You add, “How the hell do you fake a relationship?”

“You do it on television, don’t you?” He asks with a hint of sarcasm, far too inappropriate for the situation at hand. “Is it really that hard?”

“With you?” You ask redundantly, “Yes.”

“This is pointless.” He relents, hands thrown up in defeat until they fall back to his waist, standing like a petulant child, annoyed at his inability to one-up you.

“Look, I get it—you two hate each other.” The producer interrupts, glancing slowly between you both. “It’ll be maybe a few months—that’s it. Long enough to grab some good ratings and bring in some press and then you two can have your dramatic break up. You two don’t even need to interact outside of what’s contractually obligated.”

There’s a long silence, neither of you answering or looking in the direction of anyone. Eddie didn’t have anything to lose—but you had just about everything. It was the perks of being America’s hottest rockstar; do whatever you want and get away with—also just the perks of being a man. For you, one wrong misstep and you were out, permanently.

“Look, you’ve had two failed pilots over the past year, right?” The producer inquires, slyly shoving the small stack of papers and a pen your direction. “Another one and you’ll probably be blacklisted—this is guaranteed success. You can’t pass it up.”

And you hated that it was the truth, heart pounding angrily in your chest. Maybe if you had time—time to really think it through, it wouldn’t be so bad. But, there wasn’t time for that. Your show was premiering in two weeks, Eddie was preparing to leave for a tour across the country, the only thing you two lacked was time. 

“I can back out at any moment?” You ask hesitantly, glancing over at Eddie who remained mostly emotionless, ringed fingers gripping his waist still. “No problem?”

“You won’t want to,” The man tells you, “not after the media swarm picks it up. But—if you really want to, yes. You’re not obligated to stick to this relationship, but you have to make it seem believable.”

“As in?”

“A break-up, if needed. By signing this, you’re signing an NDA—this is private and if you intend to break it, there will be consequences.” 

It sounded like a threat, Eddie picked up on it too—surprisingly interrupting the conversation. 

“Like?”

“It’s basically signing away any rights you have to telling anyone about this outside of this room—if you break the rules of an NDA, suing is on the table, for either of you.”

You hated all the formal jargon, rolling your eyes at his drawn out, half threatening explanation. You snatch the pen, signing the paper lazily before tossing the pen toward Eddie. He’s startled for a moment, quickly recovering to grab the pen and do the same.

“I hope you realize how exploitative this is.” You remark, shoving the paper back at the men, grinning like the greedy sharks they were, already wet-dreaming over the amount of success and money they were bound to pull in.

“It’s just business, sweetheart.”

You grimace at the word, bile pooling in your throat at the tone and wandering eyes of a man who surely had a lot more power than you. 

For your career, it was a mantra you’d repeat in your head until the day you died.

The elevator ride down is long, silent, and awkward—a lack of either of your teams as you stood beside each other in the small confines of the four glass walls, descending down the several flights at a snail's pace. Eddie speaks first, much to your dismay that he even decides to speak at all.

“I really didn’t know.” Eddie says to you, eyes trained toward his scuffed up sneakers, “The girls—I didn’t know they were underage. I didn’t—I’m not like that.”

You chuckle quietly to yourself, “You don’t need to explain yourself to me. I don’t care.”

“I just—I didn’t want you to think I was some creep.” He says defensively, voice soft despite his hardened features. “The guys—they let it get to their heads, they make stupid choices.”

“And you haven’t?” You counter.

“I have—but not like that,” Eddie replies, fingers fiddling idly with the ring of his left hand, “I went to rehab—I’m clean now, but I’m not like that. I promise”.

Eddie never meant for the drugs to overtake his life for that short, brief amount of time—but it did and he regretted it daily. It wasn’t him anymore, though. Eddie could say that proudly. He enjoyed his life, his career—he cherished every moment of being on stage and performing, meeting fans, it’s what drove him. 

And you don’t want to pry, so you leave it be. Your hands shuffle behind your back, posed on the silver handrail as the elevator shook gently, you tensed.

Eddie notices but doesn’t say anything, figuring you’d probably bark another insult his way. He could manage the semantics though—faking a relationship, how hard could it be?

“We should exchange numbers.” 

You look at him weirdly, eyebrows pulled up in confusion. 

“You realize I have your number already, don’t you?” You ask. 

Eddie pulls back slightly, head tilted up in thought. It didn’t make sense, he’s never even spoken more than a few words to you outside of work, mutual friends, it didn’t seem possible.

“You’re unbelievable.” You scoff lightly, pulling out your phone to send him a quick text, one simple emoji, middle finger poised in an effort to send a very clear message. “Steve introduced me to you two years ago.”

Still wasn’t ringing a bell—though most of that time was blurry.

“You tried to ask me on a date,” You explain with amusement, “I said no—so you proceeded to ask me if you were down to ‘just fuck’,” You mock with dramatic air quotes, “I never deleted your number, but that’s only because I give it out to the guys that try to hit on me now.”

It dawns on him then, the absurd amount of phone calls from strange people—sometimes the unassuming person you could give a fake name to, sometimes not, Eddie never pieces it together, not until now.

“Are you fucking kidding?” Eddie asks with a slight disbelief, “That’s why my phone is constantly blowing up? I thought it was just a bunch of spam bullshit. God, you’re evil.”

You shrug, a devious smile spreading across your face as the elevator pulls to a stop in the parking garage, you step out first.

“Watch your back, Eddie Munson.” You warn, “You try to destroy my career and I’ll take yours down twice as fast.”

It’s an empty threat, but Eddie knows you're capable. 

“There’s no way this is going to work.” You grumble, hands shoved deep into the pockets of your sweater, held snug under the arm of Eddie, who’s trademark leather jacket stretched over your back—it made your neck itch, shoulders wiggling slightly in discomfort. His sunglasses tipped over his nose, eyes scanning the surrounding streets, catching glimpse of a few poorly sneaking paparazzi, cameras posed at the ready. 

Eddie wasn’t approached often in public, mostly because he’d kept up a reputation that it wasn’t a good idea—he liked to keep his private life separated from whatever this life was, and it was clear; to his friends, his family, and anyone who knew who he was. People respected it to a degree, but by agreeing to this, it felt like he was throwing that all away. He didn’t even know why—the potential benefits sounded nice momentarily, but what was he really gaining from any of it—other than eternal misery from having to deal with your constant negativity toward the situation. 

“I’d think twice about that.” He motions sneakily toward your left and you see it too, instantly freezing at the sight, like you’d been caught—which you had, but not for the reasons you were feeling. “Chill out,” Eddie says quietly, “just walk.”

You fisted your hands in your pocket, chill air stinging your face. You weren’t nearly as famous as Eddie—but enough to be noticed, it was weird to not be approached, in fact, it was almost like people were avoiding you. Eddie really did have a presence about him—maybe it wasn’t a terrible idea to keep him around if he repelled everyone so easily. 

“Remember what they said,” Eddie comments into your hair, lips pressed against the shell of your ear, subtly posing for the photo as the camera clicked in the distance, “one kiss for the shot and we can go, but it has to be good.”

“This is ridiculous.” 

Eddie laughed at your pessimism, stopping at the crosswalk. You couldn’t bare the thought of making the first move, too riddled with nerves to pull it off believably, so Eddie takes the lead, nudging your face with the hand draped over your shoulder.

Your face tilts toward his, his fingers tilting your head up slightly, lips pressed against his in a chaste, formal kiss—nothing different from the kisses you’ve had on screen. It wasn’t all the bad, actually—and if things remained like this, maybe you could handle it. 

“Hold it.” Eddie mumbles against your lips, your eyes fallen shut as he stills—surely they’ve gotten the picture by now, but you hear the familiar click of a phone camera and you quickly realize why; Eddie really planned to sell it and it was working.

You pull back with a fake, sweet smile, eyes riddled with a restrained amount of disgust that only Eddie could see—his eyes returned the sentiment, pulling back with a toothy grin, tongue peeking out between his teeth slightly. The act continues halfway down the block—light touches, looks of endearment as the cameras push in now, less restrained, questions being thrown at you haphazardly. 

The hold Eddie takes on you is real, sturdy—it felt protective and safe, and truly he felt that way. He knew how vicious and bizarre paparazzi and people could get, keeping you close by and away from grabbing hands and eager flashes of the camera. It all ramped up quickly, a crowd gathering down the busy road of the shopping mall. Eddie ignored it all, leading you toward the designated black SUV at the end of street, gently shoving you inside to follow after, breathing a sigh of relief when you were both finally inside. 

He taps on the window—it’s his driver, because of course he had one. “We’re good. Take us back.” He says simply, hands squeezed together in his lap as he fidgets again, something you couldn’t help but notice. He did it often.

“God, that was horrible.” You complain under your breath, head resting back against the seat, eyes pulled up toward the roof of the car. “And super fucking overwhelming.”

“Never dealt with that before?” Eddie asks curiously, eyes glancing up toward you for a brief moment. “Look—I was trying to make it seem real enough, sorry.”

You roll your eyes, looking over at him with a blank gaze, his expression just as unreadable. “I have dealt with it—but not on that level. It's almost like inducing a panic attack almost, feeling like you can’t breathe.”

You pause for a moment, feeling a slight tinge of guilt.

“It was believable,” You admit, “I didn’t mind it, it’s like kissing a co-star, I guess.”

“It is acting after all,” Eddie shrugs, “you’re pretty good at it, I assume.”

“Have you never—“ You linger on the question, not wanting to sound too self-centered, but you feel obligated since you know so much about him, whether by force or by your own guilty self-indulgence. 

“I barely have time to relax.” Eddie admits. “I eat, sleep, do my work and it repeats. I haven’t taken a vacation since I started.”

“What?” You ask with an immense amount of shock, “Are you serious—“

There's a ding of a notification on your phone. A few seconds later, another. Then Eddie’s, his hand pulling it from his pocket roughly. Your eyes lock, fingers swiping at the screen simultaneously as you hold your breath, not entirely sure what to expect. 

“Well,” Eddie begins.

Met with a similarly toned, “Oh my god.”

Both of you glanced at the article, smack on the cover of one of the biggest celebrity publications in the online word, headline reading—

INFAMOUS ROCKSTAR EDDIE MUNSON HAS FOUND NEW LOVE IN STARLET ACTRESS?

The article is plastered with picture after picture, but the one that really mattered, the kiss—it was right there, front and center. It was gaining traction quickly, the sudden influx of your social media being bombarded with notifications.

“You might want to turn them off,” Eddie suggests, scrolling haphazardly through his phone, like it was just another day, “otherwise your phone is gonna be unusable.”

You scroll through the list of trending tags, eyes practically bulging out of your head at the number one spot. Albeit, it was just Eddie’s name—but every post was a picture of both of you, snuggled up close, people wondering and listing off a mountain of questions.

To be fair, you weren’t nearly as well known as Eddie—so most of it was geared toward finding out exactly who you were. But, the other questions revolved around how long this had been going on, how it had managed to fly under the radar, and just how serious you two were—it was all comical, in retrospect, knowing what you knew. 

“How are you so normal about this?” You ask with a pitch to your voice, dealing with the increasing flurry of texts from friends and family suddenly interested in your personal life. “These people are fucking quick—holy shit.”

“It’s incredible how quickly things change, isn’t it?” Eddie asks knowingly, having been at the brunt of it multiple times. “Give it a few hours, it will die out a little—not by much, but it’ll be more manageable.”

“I didn’t really think everything out this far.” You admit, trying to think up responses to people you care about, people you never planned to lie to. Your fingers hover, but nothing comes out. In a moment of vulnerability, you look at him.

“What do I do?”

Eddie smirks softly, tossing his phone to the side. He motions with his forefingers, beckoning your phone toward his hand. You hesitate for a half second before handing it over, letting him work away at the keyboard, typing furiously. 

“There,” He says with finality when his fingers finally come to stop, placing the phone back into your waiting hands, “that should work.”

‘I’m fine. Don’t worry. I’ll talk more when I’m ready.’

You drop your phone, giving him a defeated look, face pulled down in a frown.

“My family is going to think I’m hiding a pregnancy if I send that,” You tell him honestly, “I need something less serious sounding.”

“You’ll figure it out,” He assures you, “Act it up, right?”

“But, this is my life.”

“Not when you’re with me,” Eddie counters, proving a point, “we’re just playing an exaggerated version of ourselves, if you think about—you know, maybe I could take on acting after this, depending on how believable I can make it.”

He’s joking, but you can’t be bothered to laugh.

“Shit—maybe even a guest spot on your show.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” You smile meanly, writing out a quick dismissive text to the eagerly waiting recipients in your phone, “I’d never let that happen.”

“I can be very persuasive.” Eddie responds, much to your ultimate dismay, wishing he’d stay quiet. “I mean, you’re kinda mimicking my life in a way, although there’s no way you could handle that lifestyle—actors are always entitled.”

Your mouth falls open, an offense taken by his line of conversation. 

“It’s a good story line,” You reply defensively, “I can play it up better than you ever could, regardless of it being real.”

Eddie’s eyebrows raise slightly, as if proving his point by your response. 

You side-eye him with annoyance, arms crossed over your chest as you recline back, suffering through the long, bumpy ride back to the office, dying to be out of Eddie’s presence.

“I’m not entitled.” You say softly, “I don’t think you understand how hard it is for women—we can’t even try to defend ourselves.”

And he doesn’t know, he can’t even compare—he’s always gotten off relatively easy, a gentle slap on the wrist. He wouldn’t even be able to imagine half of the problems you’ve had to deal with. But, that’s just it—they weren’t his problems. Just as similar as his problems not being your own; you couldn’t be more polar opposite, at this point. 

“I have this weird feeling.” You tell him after a long silence, hesitantly.

“Like things are about to get crazy?” Eddie answers for you, feeling that impending tension and doom of yours and his reality. 

You nod slightly.

“Me too.”

Unfortunately, it was only the beginning of a dangerous, winding road that would upend your life, career, and everything you had left to hold onto.

The media does swarm significantly, overwhelmingly.

It’s two weeks post kiss picture and the growth on your accounts and attention in your life had turned into a frenzy, some sickness that you weren’t prepared to handle. But, it’s the big night of the premiere for your show—the cast, producers, huge names in acting, and more importantly, all of Corroded Coffin would be in attendance. As far as you knew, Eddie hadn’t told a soul, neither had you.

But, neither of you had talked much to each other in return, aside from the occasional ridiculous headline that gave you both a good laugh —unfortunately, with such a big appearance tonight, you took the initial leap and texted him first.

Eddie calls you then, his contact name showing up on your phone, awaiting a tense FaceTime. You swipe to answer, catching the dizzying fury of hands as they worked around him, plucking at his well-formed hair, curls more defined than usual. He fiddles with his sleeve, alerting you to the fact that he wasn’t even holding his phone. He had a well-oiled team working behind the scenes, making him look presentable. Meanwhile, you sat curled on your bed, still shuffling through a small selection of appropriate outfits; it felt ridiculous.

“How are you not ready yet?” Eddie asks with a lilt of annoyance, despite his notorious mark of being late, whether on purpose or accidentally. “We have to be there in an hour.”

“My hair’s done—my makeup,” You motion toward your face obviously, “I’m just stuck on trying to pick out something to match.”

“Where’s your team?” Eddie asks, “Like, your stylist and shit?”

“Eddie,” You deadpan, “I don’t have one. I do this stuff myself.”

“Why?” His face pulls up in confusion, unable to grasp the concept of it. “Nevermind—show me what you’ve got.”

You glance at the phone with a fair amount of shyness. You didn’t have anything, nothing that would work well enough. A black, slick suit over a sheer shirt, the smallest sliver of his chest peeking through—trademark rings shoved on his fingers; he never took them off.

“Is it too late to cancel?” You ask with a grown, Eddie eyes turning up in frustration, nearly rolling back in his head. He laughs, pointing off camera somewhere.

“Do you still have that rack with you?” He asks an unseen person, “Yeah—no, further down. Not that one—no—yeah, that’s it.”

You watched with apt attention, his mysterious mind at work. He yanks the phone away from whoever was holding it, pulling at the cigarette tucked behind his ear, shoving it between his lips. There’s a lot of shuffling and then an eye-blinding brightness as he steps outside, hair windblown as he squints to stare at his screen.

“I’ll send you my location,” He tells you, a familiar flick of a lighter as he leans down to light the end of his cigarette, a slow drag as his lips pucker around it, “don’t be late—we have to arrive together, so we’ll leave from here.”

“You’re really bossy,” You grumble, shoving yourself from the bed and toeing on your shoe—Eddie smirks, “stop that.”

“Just hurry.” He tells you lightheartedly, swiftly ending the call.

The ride to his place is short, but grueling—stuck in the middle of some of the worst traffic you’ve ever experienced, it didn’t help that he wasn’t far from the venue, the chaos was evident and only made you panic further.

When you finally make it into his long, winding driveway, it’s like a small moment of peace, sitting in the driver’s seat of your car, one deep breath after another. The silence is quickly interrupted by a text from Eddie, another impatient reminder.

You sigh audibly, making the quick trip to his front door and pressing on the doorbell with a poorly manicured finger—it was something you overlooked, but you didn’t think it would matter much—all anyone really cared about was Eddie Munson. 

You weren’t expecting to be face to face with him, waiting for one of his assistants to answer the door, but now he’s standing there, a smile plastered over his face. 

You pull your face up in subtle disgust, “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m trying to get into character,” Eddie replies with a soft chuckle, motioning a grandiose wave to lead you inside, “—you should too.”

“I will after I see what you’re making me wear.” You comment absently, glancing around his home curiously. 

Home was…generous. It was a mansion, a massive step up from your downtown apartment—you couldn’t even imagine the amount of rooms, expensive furniture, pointless items. 

Eddie noticed, “I’d give you a tour.” He tells you honestly, trying carefully not to crease his suit, expensive loafers tapping against the intricate tile, “But, we don’t have a lot of time.”

You make a small noise, Eddie can’t decipher it. He’s handed the dress during your distraction—a sheer dress with a black bodice covering your more intimate parts, long sleeves cuffing at the wrists, nearly floor length as it led a slit up the side. You turn to look, eyeing it suspiciously. The heels are just as intimidating, a mess of lace that you were bound to get tangled up in. 

“Trust me.” He says, eyes glancing up at you pointedly. “They’ll help.”

He nods at the small team of people—stylists and assistants, primed and ready to go. 

“So, you’re dressing me then?” You ask with a soft laugh, “I didn’t know you were into fashion like that.”

“I’m not,” He shakes his head, “not really—but I’ve learned what works—now go, seriously.”

And for once, you don’t put up a fight, letting the strangers lead you off to an enclosed room.

They work quickly, managing to somehow fix your half-assed attempt at hair and makeup—you weren’t used to being grand or extra, just barely making a statement, it’s how you skated by so easily, never drawing attention to yourself when it wasn’t needed. But with Eddie, that wasn’t possible. 

There’s a soft knock on the door after the fury ends, things finally calming down, “Yeah?” Your voice is soft, nervous.

“The driver’s here,” Eddie says behind the door. “Is she ready?” 

You huff to yourself in amusement at his lack of addressing you, “She’s ready.” You reply snarkily, hearing the faint turn of the doorknob, his full figure coming into view.

Eddie looks smug, proud of himself. “Don’t say it—“ You begin, taking his outstretched hand hesitantly, letting him do a slow turn to take in the full outfit.

Eddie shakes his head in indifference, “I wasn’t,” He tells you, “These lips are sealed.”

You weren’t seeking any type of approval, but you couldn’t ignore that nagging feeling of hearing his opinion, wondering how loud his thoughts were—if they were as harsh as the things that fell from his mouth.

And the reality doesn’t hit you until you’re pulling up at the event, an overwhelming crowd already gathered along the guardrails—it wasn’t your first time experiencing it, but that attention felt magnified, every single movement being analyzed. Eddie seems calm, as expected, and you hate it.

Eddie speaks to your nerves, watching you scoot near the edge of the seat, squeezed in beside him in the backseat as you peered out the window.

“You don’t have to answer any questions you don’t want to,” He reminds you softly, arms slung over the back of your seat, “they’re like vultures—but they’ll only take what you give them.”

You avert your eyes away, pushing back in the seat until you hit his arm, jumping slightly at the contact. He pulls away, trying to respect your boundaries. Despite your mutual friends and awkward run-ins, you two were practically strangers. He didn’t want to overstep where he shouldn’t, even if the situation was unorthodox and special, he still had enough self awareness. 

“I’ll stay with you, if you want.” He offered—he wasn’t sure if it was necessarily allowed, given his obligations to make appearances with his bandmates, but he didn’t care too much. “Just say the word.”

You nod slowly, “Okay—okay, yeah.”

You weren’t prepared for the magnitude, the door opening to a flurry of flashing camera lights and loud noises, it was a storm of rapid media attendees and celebrities. But, you mask it somehow, by some goddamn miracle, and push on. 

Eddie leads you down the carpet initially, arm hung loosely around your hip, rings grazing the inside of your wrist. It jerks you back to reality, forcing a joyful smile on your face—you play into it, fingers hugging over the outside of his own hand, dancing along the jewelry carefully. You could fake a smile easily, but words—you were at a loss.

It was the last thing you two cared about, a backstory. But, it was also the most important—and while Eddie may be an expert at bullshitting his way through life, you were terrible. 

Eddie fakes a small kiss against your temple, nose burying into your hair as he speaks loudly, still barely audible over the noise. 

“Still with me?” He asks.

You turn to him with a sickly sweet smile, nodding with a force. 

Eddie scoffs in amusement, hand dipping down to your back slowly. “Good—get ready.” He instructs, not giving you much of a chance to prepare before he’s dipping you slightly, leg pulled up around his waist, fingers held carefully along your thigh as he pulls you in, kisses you deep, and you feel like you can’t breathe.

Eddie lifts you up just as quick and you’re forced to hide your shock and abhorrent disapproval at his antics—it was fully his personality, wild and shocking—but it worked, the crowd cheering with even more intensity. 

“You’re dead.” You smile kindly, still reeling from your racing heart, “Never do that again.”

Eddie laughs tensely, arm finding its place around you again, leading you toward the line of interviewers with haste, ready for the assault of obligated professional and personal questions. 

You’re great at talking about your work—it surprises him and all he can do is watch in stunned silence, praising not only the show but his work; it didn’t take much research to gather up most of his discography and background, it was work after all—and you were damn good at it. 

But, it inevitably hits you.

“So, the world is curious; how did this become a thing?”

This being you and Eddie, together, as a couple—a thing.

“We’re trying to keep things private,” Eddie offers nicely, a stark contrast to his abrasive manner, “but we met a while back—and stuff took off from there. I don’t want to speak for my lady, but we’re happy—that’s all that matters.”

You take a silent breath of relief, quickly recovering to add, “Really happy.” You say, voice filled with a fake sense of adoration, grasping tightly at the jacket of his suit. 

The rest of the night is filled with the same monotonous questions, repeating yourself constantly, but it’s your job and you can deal with it—but to say that you weren’t relieved when you finally stepped foot into the theater adjoining the event; well, that would be a lie. 

It all seemed believable enough, and you weren’t feeling hostile toward Eddie in the moment, despite his outrageous act of kissing you for the public, bound to make headlines the next morning, if not already—it was all easier than you expected and if things kept up like this, it would all be over in no time. 

“I’m getting weird deja vu right now,” Eddie speaks absently, following closely behind you into the packed theater, “—this is—“

“The same place you met me in two years ago,” You tell him, turning haphazardly over your shoulder to look at him, loose ringlets curls following over his face as he leaned in to hear you, “—and then tried to turn me into a random hookup.”

“Oh, like you’ve never done it,” He bickers in response, defending his previous actions steadfast—frankly, it was a little embarrassing that he thought his game was that good, “why are you so bitter about it?”

“I’m not,” You laugh slightly, “you were hammered and couldn’t even look at me straight—I ended up going home with someone else that night.”

Eddie balks slightly at the admission, earning a dramatic eye roll from you in return. 

“Women can have casual sex too,” You remind him, head still thrown over you shoulder as you looked at him, “it’s not just me—“

Eddie was too distracted by you to witness the collision at first or even prevent it, bodies colliding harshly as he reached out to grab you, pulling you to him.

The unassuming victim in this situation isn’t even you—it’s the opposite person who crashed into you, a man—younger, meeker, clearly intimidated by Eddie’s presence as he backs away quickly, barking a squeaky apology. It isn’t until you turn to see Eddie’s face that you realize why, his face scrunched up in anger.

“Sorry,” You quickly apologize, pushing away from him to squeeze through the aisle and take your seat, he follows silently behind you, “I’m really uncoordinated, obviously.”

“It’s not you,” Eddie brushes you off slightly, “—kid’s been following us all night, he’s probably a journalist.”

Your eyebrows pull together in confusion, so Eddie elaborates.

“He’s either trying to get information on me,” Which seemed likely, “or you,” less likely, “or on our relationship.”

“I thought we were doing a good job,” You reply honestly, watching Eddie’s eyes linger out into the crowd, landing on something in particular, your eyes follow—Eddie was good at this stuff, it freaked you out too much. The younger kid was staring back for a moment, before averting his eyes in slight shame at having been caught, “I guess not.”

“People’s jobs are to pick at this shit,” Shit being—you and him, “you always have to be aware—always.”

You shuffle in your seat, attempting to scoot closer, lights turning down—you can barely see Eddie now, just a faint glow against the outline of his face. 

“That’s good—I’m going to put my arm around you,” Eddie instructs softly, “look—when we’re out in public, we have to be on. There’s always going to be someone watching.”

“You make it seem like you’ve done this before.” You comment with a faint hint of snark, leaning into his touch with guarded weight, “how do you know so much?”

“I’ve never not had a relationship ruined by the public,” He says admittedly, “you pick up on things.”

You don’t press on the admission or let your eyes linger, face held steadily angled at the screen as you spoke. 

“Well, at least one of us is a professional at faking it.”

There’s a deeper meaning to it all, something just below the surface, begging to be scratched at, Eddie shrugs it off. He gives a small head shake, a friendly laugh, and the rest of the night is spent in tense silence—he’s never been more eager to be cooped up in his home, away from the limelight and peering eyes. 

Fortunately for you, that night is the best bout of sleep you ever receive, in the post bliss of a high note in your life and career—it’s like things couldn’t get better, but surely they had to level out at some point.

They do, sadly. Your phone buzzes off the bedside table, clambering to the floor with a loud slap, it startled you awake as you fished blindly for it..

Another call from Eddie—he clearly hated texting, calling you at nearly eight in the morning. You rubbed at your tired eyes and swiped to answer, greeted with the deep, gruff voice of his. It shouldn’t stop you in your tracks the way that it does, but you can’t help it.

“Why are you calling me this early?” You complain, shoving your wild bed-head hair out of your face, squinting at the screen. “Are you throwing in the towel?”

“No,” He says with annoyance, “have you not checked online at all?”

“Eddie—I just woke up,” You tell him, staring at his face through the screen. He was still in bed too, shirtless from what you could see, hair mussed and messy from sleep, “what’s happening now?”

“I’ll send you the link,” He says, voice muffled as he shifts around, you receive a message a few seconds later, clicking in the hyperlink that brings you to a page, headline plastered in large black text—

ALL FOR SHOW? DATING FOR RATINGS AND VIEWS, ROCKSTAR EDDIE MUNSON OF CORRODED COFFIN CAUGHT IN ANOTHER WILD SCANDAL.

“You’re fucking kidding—” You groan, scrolling down the page.

“Scroll to the bottom,” Eddie tells you, gaze boring through the screen as he watches you, you glanced up sparingly, “do you see it?”

It dawns on you then, “That fucking guy,” You shout excessively, sitting up in your bed, “what the fuck is wrong with people?”

“Do you understand why it has to be taken so seriously now?” Eddie asks, like a soft scolding. Your eyes narrow but he continues, “I don’t care if you hate me—but we agreed to this, we have to make it work.”

“So, what?” You ask flippantly, hand thrown down dramatically against your blanket, “Do I move in with you and start following you around like some pathetic housewife?”

Eddie makes a face of faux consideration, but he quickly wipes it away when he sees your face, scrunched up in frustration. 

“I’m going on tour soon,” Eddie explains, “so, we won’t even be around each other much anyways and you’ll have an excuse—but—maybe—we might go on a date or something.”

“Or something?” You ask with an emphasis on the word.

Despite your obvious distaste for him, you didn’t agree to anything other than what was necessary—public appearances, interviews, that was it. Dates—absolutely fucking not.

“Something to cease the doubt,” Eddie explains, moving to prop himself up on his elbow, the phone shifts and is propped up against something, his chest shifting as he leaned over to grab at something—his cigarettes, you realize when he comes back into frame, “a date—or a sex tape if you really want to cut all the shit out.”

Your silence is deafening and Eddie chuckles loudly, lighting the cigarette tucked between his lips.

“I’m fucking with you, sweetheart.” Eddie says warmly, eyes squinting as he blew out the smoke, you tensed as if it would reach you, the small endearment making your stomach twist in annoyance, “I’m just saying a date might help, out in public, just us—“

“We need to figure out a backstory,” You interrupt, “I can’t keep basing everything off of your lame excuse of ‘not wanting to talk about’,” Your finger raises in air quotes, mocking his deep voice.

Eddie makes a soft noise, a silent laugh as his body shakes.

“Why are you laughing?” You ask, bothered by his lack of concern.

“Nothing,” He says lowly, “I’ll talk to you later—I’ve got a meeting in an hour.”

“Whatever,” You reply halfheartedly, “just figure it out.”

You hang up with a cold, brisk goodbye, forcing yourself to begin your day following the rude awakening.

It’s spent mostly in long, grueling phone calls—meetings with agents, adjusting your schedule, all the necessary boring stuff that you hated about this lifestyle—interrupted briefly by the occasional texts from Eddie.

The first one is fine, you’re not really bothered by it.

But then they’re more frequent, less pointed toward a certain objective, and maybe Eddie was just attempting small talk, but you really didn’t have the time.

You huff a loud sigh, placing your phone face down on the table, browsing through computer to answer emails, typing away furiously when another buzz comes through, breaking your focus completely. 

“I’m going to kill him.” You mumble to yourself, flipping the phone over to glance at the message, typing out a snarky reply. 

Okay, maybe it was a bit much—but you couldn’t be bothered to care, annoyed with the situation you’d wrapped yourself up in, even if it was partly your fault.

Eddie never responds and it helps you feel satisfied that you’ve finally gotten in the last word—unfortunately, it’s short-lived.

You sent your address to him earlier that day, knowing there was no way to weasel your way out of the date—it was all necessary, it’s what you kept telling yourself. 

Your head is shoved in your closet, searching for a pair of shoes when the voice startles you from behind, causing you to bump your head painfully.

“Ow, fuck,” You wince, pulling away to peer behind you, face falling immediately, “Dude, what are you doing in here?”

“Your assistant let me in,” He answers simply, motioning with his thumb to the door, “—they said you’d be up here.”

“So you couldn’t wait downstairs?” 

Eddie shakes his head, reaching in his pocket for something.

“Here,” He says, pulling the dangling chain from his pocket and placing it in your hand, fingers wrapped firmly around your limp arm, “put it on.”

“Eddie, it’s just a necklace—no one’s going to care.”

His face tightens but his eyes soften, almost pleading.

“God—fine,” You relent, pulling at the clasp to wrap it around your neck, fumbling with the chain as you tried to connect it blindly—it was more difficult that you expected, “fuck—I can’t—“

Eddie holds his hands up expectantly, awaiting your request for help. You sigh softly, turning your back to him as he reaches for the chain, your hand wrapping in your hair to lift it out of the way. His fingers drag along your skin gently, clipping the chain together with ease. He adjusts the chain slightly until it sits comfortably around your neck. You glance down, watching as the puck settles in the dip of your breasts. The pick is engraved with a small E, unnoticeable to anyone but you and him. 

“Wait—is this one you actually use, like, when you perform?” You ask hesitantly, turning to face him.

His eyes glance down briefly—normally you’d feel uncomfortable with someone staring directly at your breasts, but it doesn’t bother you in the slightest and you hate that. 

“Yeah, of course.” Eddie answers, “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I figured it was just some cheap one you bought for show.”

Eddie huffs slightly, “That hurts, sweetheart.”

“Stop calling me that.” You mumble, turning away to reach for your shoes. “—and you can’t get mad at me if I lose this. I’m terrible at keeping track of things.”

“You won’t lose it.” He reminds you, putting a little too much hope in your abilities. “You ready?”

You slip on the converse, opting for something more casual and discreet—you could blend in quite easily, like a chameleon. But Eddie, he stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Have you ever thought about cutting it?” You ask curiously, flicking at a lock of hair that rested on his shoulder. “Maybe it would be easier to go unnoticed.”

“I’m known for my hair,” Eddie replies, leading the way down the stairs, “why would I do that?”

“That’s exactly why,” You shrug, “your life would be so much easier.”

“People would be heartbroken, you know.”

And as ridiculous as it sounds, they would be. 

“Yet somehow, the world will go on.”

The drive is longer than you anticipated, not that you had much to go on to begin with—Eddie was being unnaturally secretive and he opted to drive himself, which felt even more intimate—it took out the professional aspect completely, but maybe that was what Eddie wanted. 

Eddie noticed your watchful eyes, clearing his throat subtly.

“You can stop acting like I’m trying to kidnap you.”

You shake your head at the absurdity, replying kindly.

“I’m just curious where we’re going, that’s all.”

“Oh—well, it’s good, I promise,” He smiles slightly, “my uncle took me here as a kid, I know the owners pretty well.”

“This isn’t a real date,” You remind him, “we agree on that, right?”

“Obviously,” He offers a smug smirk, hand tightening around the steering wheel, “—I already know I’m not your type anyways.”

“My type?” You mock harshly, “I have a type?”

“Are you asking me to answer that for you?”

“I mean—I didn’t know I had a type, so I’d love to hear it.”

And just like that, that small moment of blissful peace is ruined. You two couldn’t even pretend that you liked each other. 

“Nevermind,” He laughs airily, “it doesn’t matter.”

You stare at him heatedly, legs crossed tightly over the other as you stiffened. 

“You’re so fucking annoying.” You bite at him.

“Likewise.”

Eddie turns it on like a switch, his act—as soon as he parks the car around the back he’s a different person entirely. You weren’t sure how the paparazzi found you, but it wasn’t completely unfathomable. They’d started camping outside of your apartment building, waiting for the opportunity to bombard you with questions and flashing cameras—you were smart to turn it on to, letting Eddie take the lead as he opened the door for you, grasping your hand to help you, wrapping his arm over your shoulder as he led you inside and away from the slowly growing audience of people.

“Eddie,” A voice booms down the hallway, a man dressed in a nicely kept chef’s uniform, “how have you been?”

Eddie smiles at the man, shaking his hand firmly. “Good, great,” Eddie answers indecisively, “I can’t complain.”

“And your uncle?” The man asks inquisitively, “I haven’t seen him in a few months.”

“He likes to hermit himself,” Eddie replies with a friendly chuckle, “I’ll bring him in next time.”

“Ah—no rush,” The owner answers, “—I see you’ve brought your lovely lady, it’s nice to meet you ma’am.”

The ma’am feels too professional but you smile anyways, shaking his outstretched hand. “You too.” You reply with the same intensity, glancing up at Eddie’s watchful eyes.

“I’ve got your table ready, follow me.” He instructs, your hand tightens around Eddie’s instinctively, allowing him to guide you down the hall and out into the dining area—it was mostly quiet, more high-end than you were used to and intimidating nonetheless.

You take your seats, order your drinks—and like Eddie suspected, you settle on a burger, hoping to maintain some sense of normality.

“I can’t understand half the stuff on the menu.” You tell him honestly, glancing up at him from where his face is buried in his phone. “You really used to come here as a kid?”

“It’s changed a lot,” Eddie explains, closing his phone and sliding it back into his pocket, “—I actually own half of the place, it’s part of some of the property I invest in, but yeah.”

“That’s a little—“ Your voice wavers, biting back a smug smile, “aren’t you obligated to think it’s good then, since you own it?”

Eddie laughs slightly, shaking his head as his eyes drift off to the side, glancing around the place leisurely. He’s so desperate to switch the topic that he can’t help it, “So, how did we meet?”

“Oh, right,” You smile, drumming your fingers against the table lightly, smiling at the waiter as they drop off your drinks, “you know—it wouldn’t feel that far off to just play up our first time meeting each other. I get that it was probably a super embarrassing moment for you—“

“It wasn’t—“

You ignore him, “—and maybe we could just say we met at one of your after parties, you asked me on a date, the rest is history.”

“One, it wasn’t embarrassing,” Eddie holds his finger up, “and two, I could’ve came up with that.”

You take a sip of the beer, foamed up in the pint glass. Eddie follows suit, eyes tense as he stares you down.

“It works though, right?”

Eddie shrugs indifferently. 

“You’re impossible.” You sigh, trying to remember that you were definitely being watched and that your facial expressions were important, you fixed yourself accordingly, throwing on a fake smile. 

“You act like you’ve never been in a relationship before.” Eddie counters, chugging half the beer in one go. It was going to be a long night, clearly. 

“I haven’t.” You answer honestly, Eddie nearly choked at the admission. “I mean, I’ve hooked up with a few people, don’t get me wrong—but dating in this line of work, it’s horrendous.”

You had a point, Eddie was all too familiar with it.

“You’re, what—twenty five?” Eddie asks, a confirming nod in return. “Not even high school, college—anything?”

“I never went to college,” You admit, “and I wasn’t interested in dating in high school—I’m not interested in dating at all, actually.”

“Then why did you agree?”

“I didn’t have much of a choice.” You stress, leaning forward over the table with a hushed voice. “If I had said no, there’s no telling what could’ve happened when you left the room. I would’ve lost my job, I’m assuming.”

“They can’t do that.” Eddie replies with a thick tone of naivety. 

“They can,” You nod, “and they will—let’s just hope the ratings were good enough that they won’t pull the show completely.”

Eddie pulls back slightly—he’s never considered your side, where you were coming from or feeling about the situation. His life was set, made, he had enough financial stability to last him a lifetime, but you—you were fresh-faced and new to all of it, an unwilling victim. 

“Look, we’re in this together.” Eddie assures you, hand reaching across to intertwine with yours—you two were nestled by an open window, so you could only assume it was for show. “We can be friendly about it, at least. I mean—I don’t have any reason to hate you.”

“Other than me turning you down.” You joke, conversation stalling as your food arrived—it was like heaven, truly. Eddie had been right on the money about all of it. You moan at the first bite, the second, to the point where Eddie has to physically stop you.

“Are you okay?” He asks with a chuckle, having finished his first beer and now onto the second—you were nearing the same.

“I haven’t had food like this in a while.” You tell him. “Sorry—“

Eddie shakes his head firmly, “Nono—I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

There’s a calmness that washes over you both, sharing small talk over your meal, meaningless conversation that neither of you would remember when you went to sleep that night—Eddie orders a third beer, a fourth, and you couldn’t help but pile them on too. You weren’t sure how sore the subject was of his stint with rehab and everything that came with it, but you trusted him enough that he had it under control.

You hum slightly, poking at the shared dessert.

“What?” Eddie asks with a mouthful of cake, covering his mouth haphazardly. 

“Can I take a picture of you?” You ask oddly, Eddie doesn’t know where the inquiry comes from, but he agrees. You smile, pulling out your phone to focus on him—the camera flashes, bright light shining in his face as he squints, a half grin still plastered over his face. “Shit—sorry, I forgot I had the flash on.” You laugh lightly.

Eddie doesn’t question your motive, but it feels better to explain, even through your drunken, giggly haze.

“It’s for your contact picture—and for my socials.” You admit, “It’s not official until you post about it, right?”

And you hate yourself for the fluttering feeling that shoots through your body at his smirk, faint but noticeable. A lot of your anger and frustration was geared toward the tenseness that you felt around the situation—you didn’t hate Eddie, per day. You hated the position you’d been forced into and the way it had to be handled; Eddie was still overwhelmingly annoying at times, but the edge that alcohol took off made it easier. 

Not that you wanted to be drunk every time you were around him, that seemed illogical, but it helped you realize that it wasn’t all his fault or yours, it was just the reality of the situation.

“Are you busy next month?” Eddie asks.

“Uh—not really, I’m wrapping most of my obligations up this month and that’s as far as I have planned—why?”

“You should go on tour with me.” He suggests and you nearly choke on your drink, liquid spilling down your chin. You cough harshly, covering your mouth. “—or not?”

“No—I’m just—what? Why would you want me to go with you?”

“We’re stuck in this situation at least until the end of the year, right? Visiting me on tour seems disgustingly loving enough that people wouldn’t have any doubt about us.”

You make a face of amused disgust, laughing at the idea but also hating that he was actually right—it was the perfect idea.

“What?” Eddie asks with a chuckle, poking at the small bit of dessert left, he lifts up with his fork, motioning toward you. “Do you want it?”

You shrug, letting him bring the fork to your mouth, lips closing gently over the utensil. If it was for the cameras, you couldn’t tell, your eyes glued to his as let the subtle art of intimacy happen, his gaze flitting down to linger at your mouth.

You pull back with a grin, chewing thoughtfully. 

“It’s a really good idea,” You admit begrudgingly, “and I hate myself for actually wanting to do it.”

“Hey—my music isn’t that bad.” Eddie says defensively.

“I wouldn’t know—I’ve never listened to it.”

That seems highly unlikely, an act of absurdity, a crime against humanity. Eddie couldn’t believe it, but it was the truth. He looks offended as he sets his fork down, grabbing for the final sip of his drink. 

“Oh my god—“ You gasp, “you really are conceded—Eddie, are you serious?”

“Not even one song?”

“No,” You answer seriously, “I mean—I know what you play and that you sing but I’ve never actually listened to a song. I told you—it’s not my thing.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” Eddie says petulantly, turning his nose up jokingly. “My own girlfriend, that hurts.”

You roll your eyes lazily, “Shut up.” You respond warmly.

It makes Eddie laugh—a genuine, deep laugh that you’ve never heard before; maybe the alcohol was getting to him too.

When you’re finally finished, Eddie leads you out the same way you entered, avoiding the mass of cameras awaiting you outside, managing to get you inside the car with minimal commotion, pulling off before things turn hectic. It’s the one thing Eddie has learned to master—that and he scared most people off. 

“They never stop.” You say into the quiet rumble of the car, engine revving as he sped down the street.

“It’ll get better,” Eddie says, “—or more manageable, at least.”

You hiccup, “They camp outside my apartment most days—in shifts and stuff, there’s—there’s always someone out there.”

“Do you have security or anything?”

It was another luxury you weren’t accustomed to. You shake your head slightly, peeking up at his burning gaze.

“Are you sure you should be driving?” You ask hesitantly, “We were drinking a little more than we should have.”

“I wouldn’t have tried if I wasn’t sure,” He assures you, holding his hand out to showcase his steady fingers, rings knocking together slightly, “—see, I’m good.”

You weren’t sure how that was supposed to help, but you shrugged it off, grabbing at his extended hand. 

“Do you ever take these off?” You ask with a short laugh, twisting the jewelry around his fingers, noting the tiny cuts along his fingertips. 

Eddie huffs an offended laugh, “Yes.” He snatches his hand away gently, returning it to the wheel. “I shower and dress myself too, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

You nod thoughtfully, “Damn—you read my mind.” You reply smugly, silenced growing over as Eddie pulled into the parking garage to your building, coming to a gentle stop. You hesitate leaving, wondering if you should say anything—even a simple goodbye.

Eddie speaks first, sensing whatever emotion you were giving off—you couldn’t even put a finger on it. 

“I can walk you upstairs if you want,” He offers, “if you’re worried.”

“Please?” You ask softly.

Eddie doesn’t even hesitate.

Eddie leads you up with a hand on the small of your back, the dip above your ass, and it feels like fire through your clothing, his touch burning hot. You fumble with the key at your lock, feeling the buzz spread through your body, eyes squinting to concentrate. Eddie never leaves your side, scooting even closer when someone passes down the hallway—their looks linger, but they don’t say anything, not with the stern gaze Eddie shoots back.

“Stop scaring people,” You mumble, finally fitting the key into the lock and turning it. Eddie follows in behind you, clicking the door shut silently, “—thank you, Eddie.”

Eddie slips your wallet into your hand, something you’d shoved into his hand earlier while you searched for your keys, almost forgetting about it. You snatch it without a word, pressing it down against the counter. 

“Are you good then?” Eddie asks, nodding toward the door. “If you are I’ll just—“

“Do you want a drink?” You ask randomly, already sifting through your cabinet, reaching in for a wine glass.

It’s almost like Eddie was waiting for it, agreeing eagerly.

“Yeah—yeah, sure.”

You smile knowingly, reaching for another glass. You place them on the counter gently—Eddie roamed around aimlessly, taking in the space, glancing over occasionally as you sifted through your copious bottles of wine. 

“This is cute.” Eddie says, holding up a small picture frame. It was you and Steve as young kids, young enough that you two weren’t even communicating in full sentences yet—Eddie could spot Harrington anywhere; it was a gift.

“Our parents are friends,” You explain without prompting, carefully filling up the glasses, “I taught him how to walk, according to my parents.”

“That explains a lot.” Eddie laughs softly. 

“Here,” You nudge him gently, handing him the glass before taking a seat on the couch, shoes slipped off to the ground, “you can sit, if you want.”

Eddie moves slowly, still lingering about as he looks around, the cushion dips slightly when he finally takes a seat. You sip quietly, feeling more relaxed in the comfort of your own place. Your legs extend, pressed gently against the outside

of his thigh. Eddie doesn’t mind, glancing further around the homey environment you’d created. 

“I’m really sentimental.” You tell him, nursing the glass in your hands. “It’s why I have so much stuff from back home.”

“Home being…” Eddie pushes further, curious.

“Hawkins—Indiana. It’s where Steve and I grew up before we moved to California. He went his way and I went mine but we’re still close. I just miss it, sometimes. So it’s nice to have small reminders.”

Eddie nods slowly. He didn’t care much for pictures or gifts or things from his childhood—his guitars were his babies, his records, littered and hung throughout his house like a museum, his own small collection. 

“Oh shit,” You panic, placing the wine glass on the end table as you searched for your phone, grabbing it from your back pocket, “I almost forgot about the picture.”

Eddie chortles, leaning over to peek at your screen.

“Did you want to look?” You ask, tilting the phone toward him, “Before I post it?”

Eddie nods silently, setting his glass down too. You scramble toward him, lifting onto your knees to shift that way. His fingers wrap around the back of your hand, eyes scanning over your screen. It’s the same photo as earlier—he looks ridiculous, but you find it endearing. It’s nothing like the magazine covers or posed photo shoots you’ve seen of him; it’s a small glimpse of the real Eddie, unfiltered and raw.

“Is it okay?” You ask, not sure why you’re seeking his approval, but the question slips out regardless. 

“Yeah—“ He pauses, considering a thought before he can’t help but speak, “but, maybe we should—like, take one together? Is that weird?”

You weren’t sure why you didn’t think of it before him, but it’s a brilliant idea, actually—you’re blaming it on the slight intoxication and the heat of nervousness that ran through your body around him. You couldn’t control it. 

“Uh, sure.” You agree, shifting closer then, nearly falling into his lap as you do. Eddie catches you with ease, his hand resting against the outline of your hip bone as he adjusts you slightly, body angled as he lifts you over his legs. “Here—maybe I should—I’ll just turn this way.”

You’re fully settled onto his lap now, turned sideways as you lift the camera. It wasn’t hard to force a smile, no matter how fake, and that’s what you’re expecting Eddie to do, but instead he speaks. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks politely, almost comically. “For the picture?”

“Oh—uh, yeah?” You respond with a soft laugh. Eddie doesn’t hesitate, his fingers dragging under your chin to tip your head up, lips connecting with yours gently.

The camera clicks a few times, his lips held steady. You laugh slightly at the absurdity, pulling away gently to sift through the photos. Your head turns, swiping through your screen.

It’s astonishing how believable it looks from the outside eye, both of you caught mid-smile as you tilt the phone toward him to show it off. You glance up briefly, but Eddie isn’t even looking at the phone, eyes locked on you.

And you’re not naive, not in the slightest. You’re half guided by the alcohol, half guided by the unrestrained horniness you felt from having deprived yourself of connection for so fucking long. It’s just one time, you tell yourself. Just once. It doesn’t have to be anything—it was nothing. 

Your phone slips from your hand to the floor, Eddie’s own fingers wrapping around your face, encompassing the sides and digging gently into the nape of your neck as he pulls you to him, but it’s you who kisses him, a small tinge of hesitancy as he glides his lips against your own—you couldn’t take it, skipping past every last bit of hesitancy you had and gliding your tongue over his bottom lip. 

Eddie is just as intense like this as he is normally, giving into his urges just as easily. He can’t remember the last time he’s ever had a genuine, casual hookup—not that he expected this to turn into that, but it’s freeing, liberating. 

His tongue dips into your own mouth, swiping against yours, you moan outwardly, shifting until you're more comfortably, thighs stretched over his own, straddling his waist. Your mouth never leaves his, speed increasing with fervor as you kiss him soundly, pulling away for a quick breath, the sheen of spit as you disconnected, a small string connecting your mouths. 

“Take your pants off.” He breathed hotly, eyes half-lidded as he stared up at you. You stand clumsily, reaching for the button of your jeans as you wriggle the denim down your hips, Eddie assists the aid, yanking roughly until they pooled at your ankles, he leans down swiftly, helping you out of them fully.

His hands slip behind the fatty expanse of your thigh, squeezing gently to guide you back over his lap, sitting directly against the cold denim of his own pants.

Eddie’s mouth connects with yours quickly, moving with the kiss as you lean in forcefully, rubbing the front of your chest against his own, the tight squeeze of your thighs reassuring your movements as you delved into his mouth, tongue hot and flat as it mingled with his, all saliva and muffled groans as he consumed you, the tinge of cigarette hitting your taste buds, mixed with the faint subtleness of beer. 

“We gonna regret this in the morning?” Eddie asks with a break to his tone, voice checked as he pulls away slightly.

You chase his lips, settling for the line of his jugular, mouthing at the skin, the faint beat of his pulse against your tongue.

“Depends,” You reply breathlessly, “Can you make me come?”

It was a feat not many could accomplish—and if you were letting things drag on this far, you weren’t going to let it be for nothing. 

“Please,” Eddie scoffs, noise dying out on a groan as you nipped at the skin, head dipping to the other side, the gentle trace of his fingers following up your back, “what type of men have you been fucking?”

“If I’m horny—I’ll take what I can get,” You admit, “I’m not picky”.

“And right now?” Eddie asks hopefully, “Are you taking what you can get?”

“We’ll see.” You remark, lifting your hips slightly as his hands dipped under the black lace of your underwear, fingers spreading through the pooled wetness, slick coating them.

“Jesus,” Eddie sighs, “you’re so fucking wet.”

You nod dumbly, a faint smile pulling at your face. It’s like instant relief when he touches you, whatever earlier ache fading away in an instant at the heat of real fingers gliding through your cunt, something other than your own hand.

“Shouldn’t you take your rings off,” You think idly, feeling the cold metal against the inside of your thigh, “won’t they get messy?”

Eddie hums a noise of approval, pulling back to glance at your relaxed expression, jaw slack as his fingers rubbing through folds.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t dream of it.” He laughs deeply, turning his palm down so his rings pressed fully against your cunt, the outline of the skull ring catching against your clit. You gasp slightly, hand tightening around his neck where it rested. He nods knowingly, “Don’t worry—it’s really hot.”

Shamefulness aside, drunken haze filling your body, you give in, hips rocking gently against the flat of his hand, palm resting over his dick where it’s confined in his jeans, through your underwear. It’s the perfect angle, hips canting down as the ridge of the metal catches against the soft mound of your clit. He’s pulled you so close, you can’t even think about moving away now. 

“Feels good, yeah?” Eddie asks, voice strained as his hand wraps around the length of your waist, your mouth falling open in a soundless gasp as your face rests against the side of his, buried in the curls of his hair, smelling like some expensive cologne and a odd mixture of leather, probably from the jacket thrown of his shoulders.

“Uh huh,” You respond deftly, whining softly as his hand flexes into a fist, pressing firmly against you, “—shit.”

“God—you’re soakin’ my fingers, sweetheart.” Eddie comments softly—you let the endearment slide, too caught up in your own mind to care. “Is it always like this?”

And lord does he hope it is. 

You shake your head slightly, “It’s the alcohol,” You admit shyly, “—can’t help it.”

Eddie laughs gently, a small shake of his chest as you keen forward, hips searching for more, hoping for more. 

“Can I—can you—“ You fumble over your words, but it isn’t hard to decipher what you’re asking, your free hand traveling between your bodies, over the hard tent in his jeans, dick twitching beneath your touch.

“Yeah—fuck, of course.” Eddie sighs, lifting you up slightly to reach for his buttons, flipping it open in one fluid movement, letting you pull at his jeans until they’re tucked under his ass, his underwear following suit.

If there was one thing you expected for certain, it was that Eddie had a nice dick—it wasn’t hard to find online, rather willingly or unwillingly, he wasn’t shy about it. It wasn’t up for you to judge, but it’s even more intimidating in person—everyone else is dull in comparison, you can’t even peel your eyes away.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Eddie remarks, catching your expression—it feels teasing, but not in the way that makes you want to retaliate, “—here, give me your hand.”

And you do, letting his larger palm guide yours over the head of cock, down his shaft, fingers grazing the soft stubble of his balls as he sighs, head resting back against your couch. 

His still slowly working hand flips, giving you a small amount of relief against your cunt, the pad of his middle finger pressing against your opening, fluttering around the tip. He doesn’t need to ask, he can see it in the look you give him, the subtle nod.

His finger dips in slowly, testing—it’s been far too long and it’s embarrassing how little of a touch can make you feel so good.

“I know,” He soothes, seeing the crease of your eyebrows, face pulled tight in anguish, “I know.”

Your hand moves slowly, dragging along the length of his shaft. He inhales deeply, the soft touch of your fingers sends a strong jolt to his dick, your thumb grazing over the tip gently. The friction can’t feel that good, despite how wrecked he already looks. You pull your hand away, licking a wet stripe up your palm—it’s something so visceral, hitting Eddie at his core.

Your hand returns just as quickly, and he moans out at the touch, wet and slick as your hand glides easier, up and down in firm, tight tugs—you didn’t know what he liked, but by the look on his face, you were doing just fine. 

His slips his finger in fully now, forgoing the teasing pace, impatient and wanting to feel you clench around him—you do, gasping at the sudden intrusion of his thick finger, ring pressed hard against your entrance, he curls the digit and you gasp out softly.

“Jesus,” He moans, his dick throbbing beneath your touch. You can’t help but focus on anything but him, the calculated glide and twist of your hand as you work against his shaft, thumb dragging over the tip occasionally, mixing saliva with the small amount of precum pooling at his slit, “—can’t—can’t focus with you touching me dick like that.” He admits with a strained chuckle. 

His fingers release you, sticky wetness gliding against your clit like magic, that familiar buzz filling through your body, pit of your stomach like burning fire as you cry out at the slightest touch.

“Fuck—it really has been a while, hasn’t it?” Eddie asks, voice soft and concerned. You nod weakly, mouth hung open slightly as your eyes fall shut. Your hand never stops moving against him, picking up speed with every quick circle of his finger against your clit, throbbing with need. 

“Look at me,” He urges, hand finding the back of your head, cradling the weight of it, “open your eyes.”

You do, slowly, met with the same weak but intense gaze. You’ve never looked into someone’s eyes like this, not in such an intimate situation—there was never connection, just pleasure and release. This felt…palpable, real. You shoved the concerning thoughts aside and let yourself live in the moment, his pace quickening with determination, mouth falling open with each second that passed.

“That’s it,” He encourages, voice faltering as you squeeze at his shaft, “—want you to look at me while you come, okay?”

You nod, but it’s not enough.

“Say it.” He pleads.

“Yes,” You force out, “I—I will.”

“Good,” He breathes, grunting loudly as your pace overwhelms his senses, destroying his train of thought, “good girl.” He forces himself to say, voice shot.

His finger circles your sensitive clit with urgency and it hits you all at once, the sensation exploding from your core to your entire body, jerking at the high of your own orgasm, allowing Eddie to coach you through it, hand flattening against your cunt as your hips searched for more relief, satiating that lasting ache as he pressed firmly, giving you a chance to calm down, catch your breath.

“I got it,” He assures, swatting at your hand gently, “it’s okay.”

“No,” You grumble, forcing his hand away too, feeling steady enough to return to your previous pace, still breathless from your own orgasm, “stop acting like that.”

He grunts softly, his hips shifting on their own accord. He was close, it was so blatantly obvious. “Like you have to do it all yourself,” You snark at him, “just shut up and let me do it.”

Eddie laughs at your determination and clipped tone, bottom lip pulled between your teeth in concentration—but his amusement is short-lived, your hand tightening around his shaft with a feverish grip—it was too much, even for Eddie.

“Fuck,” He breathes out harshly, coming over his lap and your thighs in long spurts—the thick, sticky fluid coating your skin. You can’t even be bothered to care, his face so sweet when he does come, all scrunched up with focus, jaw clenched as he forces himself to say silent, much to your dismay, “—holy shit.”

You both take a moment to settle, catch your breath, before you’re reaching behind you and onto the table for a tissue, handing it to Eddie silently. He cleans you both up with no complaint, taking care to make sure nothing is left, before balling up the tissue and tossing it into the small trash can in the corner of the room. 

You shift off of him, feeling the sticky, cold fabric of your underwear between your thighs—you grimace and Eddie laughs at the emotion you emit. 

“Don’t say anything.” You tell him hotly, “We can act like this didn’t happen.”

Eddie holds his hands up defensively, “Like what happened?” He asks densely, shifting dramatically to shove himself back into his underwear, pulling his jeans back up his hips.

“Keep it that way.” You warn, voice holding no malice. 

You didn’t want this to become a thing. It was all a weak moment of need, of wanting to feel good, and that’s all it had to be. 

Eddie nods slowly, still lingering on the couch as you stand. 

He wants to ask something, you can see it on his face.

“What?” 

“Uh—I know this didn’t happen but—can I sleep here, on your couch or something?” Eddie asks, “I probably shouldn’t drive this late, not after that last glass you gave me.”

You nod kindly, disappearing down the hallway for a moment before returning with a pillow and blanket, switching him for your discarded jeans as you made the trade silently. 

“I need you gone in the morning,” You tell him, “I mean it.”

“No problem,” Eddie agrees with you, “it’ll be like I was never even here—promise.”

You really, really hope that was the case—too ashamed to even look at yourself now, still standing half naked in front of him, telling yourself this would never happen. 

But it did—and you hated yourself for wanting it. 

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #my writing #1kfic

[freefolkfightorflight]

Brain Dump

I started my adhd meds again for the first time in 2 years and my brain is like hey. We got a lot of thinking to do so here you go. My current fixation as I sit on the bed telling myself to clean and wash my damn sheets im covered in.

——-

Me: I just feel so ugly

Him: you are beautiful and good. You just have one defect and you know what it is. (I’m kind of a ho who lies when I think imma be in trouble😩)

Me: you too. You are handsome and good. You just have one defect and you know what it is. (He’s insecure and jealous)

Him: do you want to marry me?

Me: yes

Him: ok good

Me: ok…😍😂 wtf, Alej

———

I think we are both broken children just trying to make it through life and it’s sad and ugly sometimes. But a lot of times it’s really passionate and beautiful.

I don’t know why I’m posting this. This isn’t new news. We’ve talked about marriage before. I’m there. He’s there. I have a ring. he called it a pre engagement ring. And I’m like so a promise ring? And he’s like no. PRE! Lol. but it’s NOT an engagement ring. I don’t care but he does.

Speaking of. He’s more traditional than I’m willing to ever be again. I will never cook every single night. I will never commit to do things like that on a forever basis again. Sometimes I’m scared he will be disappointed in that. But I haven’t faked it these past 2 years. He’s gotta know exactly what he’s getting with me.

It’s just challenging because he’s an immigrant who still has a wife in Mexico. They married super young. they’ve been separated 25 years. She lives with her ‘fiance’/boyfriend etc. but she refuses to sign the divorce papers. Every few months she dangles signing the divorce papers in front of him, asks for money, he pays her, she disappears til the next time she needs money. Currently she’s saying she will sign the papers and he’s just done being used. I keep thinking maybe she means it this time. But he knows her better. He wants to go back to Mexico to sort it out but *I* don’t want him to bc it’s so fucking dangerous coming back. He’s got 3 kids and his mom here. Please don’t leave me to care for them all if you die. Lands alive.

That’s another obstacle. The mom doesn’t want to live with me. SAME😳 but I’d at least attempt it for the good of the whole family. She said absolutely not. He said absolutely not. She wants/needs her own place when me and him get married. Have you seen rent now a days? How will we afford a place for 5 kids, and then at least 2 bedrooms for her? (For when she has his girls). Lol. He doesn’t seem concerned about this part, but I am.

I have an evil ex who put in the child custody agreement that I’m not allowed to live with a significant other unless we are married 🙄bc yes let’s do this again. otherwise I wouldn’t care so much. Like we are two years in. I’d rather just live together. Test the waters. and fuck marriage prior to that just bc of how bad it’s been in my history. But I do see myself being with him forever. So it’s fine. Whatever. Except we can’t bc his ‘ex’. Brah

I just feel chatty and already talked his ear off🙈

I texted every girlfriend I know and they’ve all stopped responding bc I’m talking too much. Send help

#Mexican #Mexicano #marrying an immigrant

[spirker]

hi i'm too overwhelmed to watch rhys's murray cameo and i was wondering if you know of anyone who's posted a transcript somewhere? or if there's any chance maybe you would be open to telling us the best bits/highlights of the cameo? (thank you for your post about it with the fotc bloops video btw!!)

Oh hey! No problem, I’ll do my best.

So, Rhys is wearing a very cute Murray style ensemble for this one - beige shirt, Aotearoa themed tie, brown blazer.

He opens by calling ‘band meeting!’

First question is ‘where is Murray now?’

Answer - he’s been working hard, managing a band called Great Big Cow and getting them in to perform at the Troubadour in LA. The room sold out and the band played very well - a big achievement for Murray!

After that, he’s returned to New Zealand. He goes between NZ, LA and NY. FOTC was his heyday.

(I’ve written this next bit in full because I think it is excellent advice)

Life advice to note down: when you find yourself in a scenario you didn’t expect - don’t fret! Could be awkward, could be weird, you might be upset for some reason. Could be job you don’t want to do or could be some place you don’t want to be. But just think in the back of your mind - something good can come of this. The old silver lining.

Murray’s silver lining was that a couple of ‘cool-looking idiots’ turned up on his doorstep. They had a band that needed managing and Murray flourished in this new role!

They brought amazing comedy and music to the world, and there was a sense of sadness when it ended and they had to go back to NZ.

(Rhys gets briefly distracted by a plant in the background)

People related to Murray because he showed ‘fake it til you make it’, make use of any skills you have to level up - life is a ‘big theatrical escapade’, we have to put on a character everyday and pull something out of nothing to achieve in this world and Murray was the embodiment of that.

Murray is awkward, doesn’t quite fit in, but being like that you can still make it. Having a sense of humour is a big one, but you always have something unique about you.

Everyone has a sense of humour, some have a natural gift for it, but everyone has a certain set of skills to utilise.

(Then he talks himself out of giving advice - personally I love his advice and I always want to hear more but I think he started doubting himself here!)

Then he talks for a bit about improvisation in FOTC - a lot of it was improvised! They had so much fun.

Murray’s office particularly was always improvised - they had a goal to get to, a reason for the scene, but you could work anything into the scene. It was hard to stop each other from laughing!

Some highlights: arguing in front of the map, ‘I get ridiculed all the time’, ‘on your way to a dick meeting’, the dad guitar bit, ‘you’d have to be deaf to hear that’, ‘you could have a little bit of hay coming out of your mouth’ (🤣)

Rhys really enjoyed watching it back and he’s really proud of it.

Then he talks for a bit about band meetings and how Jemaine was always corpsing - he would be first to laugh and set Bret off. B&J would often have to leave the room and Murray would do the band meeting to two empty chairs because they were laughing too much.

Rhys would still hear them laughing down the corridor by the monitors so he’d call out ‘I can hear you! You’re gonna have to go back to your trailers!’

FOTC worked so well because of the connections they all had together as a cast and wanting each scene to be as funny as it could be.

You don’t want to rely too much on stuff you’ve written in a script, if you can do it (not everyone can) then improvising can be when you’re funniest. When Rhys gets a script he likes to do a run through where he adds his own stuff and people can see if they want to add in something different that he comes up with.

He then sings ‘Leggy Blonde’ as a thank you. He misses FOTC dearly and hopes they can get together again one day and do something.

(He includes all the parts of Leggy Blonde, including Jemaine’s rap, which had me in fits of laughter)

Wow that was long, I hope that my recap isn’t too overwhelming either! It was such a fun video and brought back so many memories of watching FOTC when I was a teen.

<3

#rhys darby #fotc #flight of the conchords #murray hewitt

[i-willstealyourtoes]

HELLO HI YES REQS ARE OPEN SO NOW I’M GONNA SEND SOMETHING BC I LOVE UR CONTENT /GEN

can i get some headcanons for prisoner!hoxton with a guard!reader who doesn’t treat him like shit? like- they don’t take it far like smuggle stuff in or anything, but they also don’t beat him up at any chance given like the other guards. bonus points if hox flirts with them a lot because omg hot guy flirting with just a little fella??? real???

more bonus points if the reader gets really sad after hoxton’s breakout and quits their job. maybe like- they run into each other while hoxton is robbing a bank with the crew 👁👁

i might send another req, but i’ll wait til later bc i don’t want to bombard you with too many reqs at once

also have a song that i’ve been listening to on loop as a gift :D

Bussin song, solid 7.8/10 fr fr- Anyway here we go Hoxton and Bons for the win :]

Hoxton with (nice) guard crush

- Okay so I imagine when Hoxton was first caught, he was expecting every guard (and a lot of inmates) to not like him

- This was both due to his actions as a criminal, but also because he knew his personality can be a bit much for some people

- (Not that he was gonna change it anytime soon)

- Of course, that meant that when he was getting growls, swears and even punches thrown at him, he wasn't surprised

- Even when the guards threw him roughly to the ground and beat him a little too much than they should, he still wasn't surprised

- What did surprise him, was you (awwww)

- He first encountered you, you were just sitting, watching over the inmates when a guard bumped into him

- 'Watch where you're going.'

- 'Why don't you watch where you're going then, c-'

- Of course talking back would earn a hit for disobedience

- But when another joined in, that's when you walked in

- 'Hey, don't team up on him just for talking back. How sensitive are you guys? Keep it together.'

- They grumbled and groaned, but eventually walked away (your glares were enough to make them back off for now)

- As you helped him up, Hoxton couldn't help but notice how good-looking you were

- Obviously, he wasn't gonna start kissing you and proposing just because you did the bare-minimum any 'good' guard should do and you were pretty....

- But maybe a little 'thanks' would be okay?

- 'Cheers mate, what's your name?'

- '(Last name (L/n)). Just call me (L/n).'

- 'Alright, '(L/N)'. 'preciate you doing that. These other guards are a pain in the ass.'

- '....no offense.'

- You shrugged, it makes sense he hates guards anyway

- Anyway, after that Hoxton tended to stick a bit closer to you when he could

- I mean, for some reason the guards seemed to follow your instructions when you told them to back off, so..

- Obviously, he knew you couldn't protect him from getting shoved and stuff, but being with you certainly helped him

- If you ever picked up on it, he would just deny it (embarrassed much?)

- 'Why do you keep walking with me?'

- 'Pfft, what do you mean? I'm pretty sure you're following me, (L/n)...'

- 'Ohhhhh, I get it. You think that I can protect you? That's so funny...!'

- He would just scoff and fake a disgusted face and walk away, cursing you under his breath

- Even if you were right, he'd rather not admit it

- The following years would just be you two being a well-known duo, like partners in crime (not literally of course)

- You would constantly exchange funny jokes and quips

- Although you never returned the favour, he would ABSOLUTELY flirt with you

- Like maybe not all the time, just when it's you two

- If you're walking him to his cell for lights out, he would just say something a little... you know 😏

- 'Night, Hox. Hope you have shit dreams.' (/lh)

- 'Nah, I'll just dream of you.'

- (Omg kicking my feet and giggling rn)

- When he was broken out of the prison, it was admittedly a little sad for you since you never got to even say bye :(

- It was even worse when the prison decided to fire all their guards and hire new, 'better ones' so that there was a blank start

- But it did get better one day, when you were getting a coffee in the mall, when all of sudden-

- SMASH

- BANG BANG BANG

- Uh oh, robbery

- You better run- wait is that Hoxton???

- It actually seemed they were just going through the mall after robbing the bank nearby

- As they rushed past, one of them spilled your coffee

- And in that moment, you decided to say something that changed your life

- 'HEY, YOU SPILLED MY COFFEE ASSHOLE-'

- Luckily, Hoxton was the first to turn around, eyes widening as he noticed it was you

- 'Heh, well look who it is? Officer (L/n).. you aren't here to cuff me are you?'

- 'You wish. I actually got fired, so I can't anyway.'

- The van had arrived, and the others were calling for Hoxton to get in

- 'You looking for a job then?'

- 'Got one, actually. But it's boring.'

- As he stepped into the van, he held out a hand for you to take

- 'Wanna do something better then?'

- '.....you know what?'

- You took his hand, much to his glee

- '....sure, let's see where this goes, Hox.'

- (sorry I posted this without finishing it mb Crunchy)

#x reader #payday #payday 2 #payday the heist #payday 2 x reader #hoxton payday 2 #hoxton payday

[sir-yeehaw-paws]

idk this is maybe gonna sound random but i think kaz was involved with the great msf bbq of 74. skull face knows him pretty well and he easily could've pinned everything on huey. there's evidence for him killing strangelove yeah but none for him allowing the attack.

I don't think it sounds all that random, anon. It's a theory I've come across before. I believe either on Youtube, or Reddit. I can't recall particularly which exact place though, so I apologize for that. I can understand to some degree that theory being possible, and I haven't given it enough thought myself to speculate. I've also seen it theorized Kaz is also responsible for the second outbreak, but again, I haven't looked deep enough into that alternative theory personally to give it too much weight.

(And people have pointed out the whole 'he's already working for Cipher too why not do something else' but I don't know personally that I agree there, per se. I don't think the story explores Kaz working for Cipher well enough to where I can build up headcanons about his mindset there-outside of what we are given. But I can't discount why people theorize he's further treacherous as a result).

Personally, as far as Huey goes, he's absolutely guilty for Strangelove, but there's some deliberate (I think anyway) ambiguity as to whether or not he knew 100% for sure that the inspection was a fake. There's evidence to suggest he knew all along, but I am not fully convinced at all times. I imagine he is, but. IDK. I think the story is written for us to ask questions. (Or I'm giving it too much credit, I genuinely cannot say)

I will say though, I personally can't see Kaz having any motivation to facilitate the second outbreak. Even if he did work with Cipher back in the MSF days, Diamond Dogs was largely started by him. He was the one putting in the work to restart Mother Base-he just had a lot of trouble getting any recruits because he didn't have Big Boss's influence, and thus few wanted to follow him (as he tells it). His personal phone call with Zero also implies they are very much not on friendly terms whatsoever. He later describes his relationship with Cipher as 'parasitic'. Now, how reliable a narrator Kaz is I can't tell you, but I really don't think he's a traitor during Diamond Dogs era. Does this add possibility to him being guilty for the original MSF attack? No, but I also struggle to find motivation there. If he was still angry at Big Boss for his less-than-consensual recruitment, there's several other ways he could've gone about it. He was the second in command at MSF too. I feel like it's a pretty hard sell for Skull Face going up to him and say something like 'Hey, work with me to blow up the base and people you've grown attached to.' Skull Face was (I assume anyway) also slowly distancing himself from Zero by this point. Whilst that doesn't happen in full til later, Zero wasn't responsible for the MSF attack. That was all Skull Face, acting alone without Zero's approval. Yes, he's using their banner, XOF, but this was probably the first true sign to Zero that Skull Face had gone rogue (the second being Skull Face attacking Zero with the parasites).

But back to Kaz. the man's as much of an opportunist as the rest of them, but I genuinely don't see what Skull Face could've offered him in that moment to make 'attack your base' appealing to him. Too much loss without enough gain, at least to Kaz. What would be the pull? What would've been appealing enough for Kaz to take a risk like that?

Could be wrong tho! I mean, this is all theories and headcanons after all. I'm not an expert.

#asks #answered asks #kazuhira miller #huey emmerich #headcanons #thoughts posts #mgs #mgsv

[cerealmonster15]

MWAHAHAHAA UNO REVERSE CARD 1 & 8 YOULL NEVER CATCH ME ALIVE 🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️

wh- hey- HEY COME BACK do NOT make me add a Draw Four Cards in the same color to your pile!!! COME BACK HERE AND TALK ABOUT CHARACTERS!!!!!

not yet tho. it's my turn 😌 going for twst for both of these 🕺

sorry. i talked a lot. this is why no one else sent me questions probably. bc i can and will do it again given the chance 🧡

1- the character everyone gets wrong

i. 🧍 ok so ive been more in my bubble lately so perhapeth my frothing at the mouth will be a bit more outdated idk. im scared of the main tags LOL but. ahem, i am torn between wanting to pick riddle, maybe cater, or ROOK. im a rook apologist til the day i die i s2g. however i am a heartslabyul stan first and a person second, as i have said many a time, so im going with CATER MY BELOVED CAYCAY ACTUALLY.

listen i admit here that i could also be Fully Wrong bc tbh cater's whole Deal is so vaguely hinted at and peppered in at the most spaced out moments and we know so very little about his Secret Sadness and more somber side, there's probably more that we still dont know that maybe [I HOPE] they will spring on us over time. however. HOWEVER. i do not think cater's sunshine upbeat persona is 100% "Fake". like i think there's more to it. yes sure he is implied to be putting on more of a peppy face for the sake of people around him and gets exhausted by it, but i dont think that means it's ALL A LIE and that the sad boy cater is the REAL cater. like i think it's all real, to an extent? something i really like about twst are how, at least to me, everyone seems to be pretty well rounded and multifaceted. there's not really a one note character. everyone's got their own personality and backstory and some we just have learned more about than others. but the way they react to certain situations and certain people and certain environments... just like in real life, it's going to change sometimes depending on the situation. so maybe he masks a bit and pushes out the negativity bc he's def the mediator type who tries to keep up morale, but i dont think that means he's never once experienced Real Joy in his life. i know the lab story with the madrake had those more morose sadlad mandrakes he desperately wanted to hide from lilia and vil [even tho they saw right through him] but the other ones he made still reflected him too! aspects of him, for better or for worse. i'm just saying i don't think it's gotta be all or nothing. there's def more to him under the surface, but i don't think that means everything he shows is all a complete lie forever either.

to follow up on that, i ALSO don't agree w/the depiction that his friendships mean nothing to him / are also all "fake". listen. i have reread cater's wish from the starsending event SEVERAL times. i know. IT HURTS where trey implies he thinks cater isn't being fully open and honest with him. I KNOW. and the bit in cater's halloween card story (i'm pretty sure it was cater's anyway) where he thinks to himself that lilia has no idea what kind of helplessness he's feeling bc lilia has his diasomnia long term friends and cater's had to move around so much so he's never had that, and it kinda seemed implied that his old friends dont really keep in touch til hes relevant on magicam for the stuff going on in school . i get it! HOWEVER. i think it's again a more complex situation. i think, personally, cater as he's said few times in canon - he likes to live in the moment and make memories! but i don't think those good memories are fake. i think you can enjoy people's company and love them a whole lot and still keep them at a bit of a distance. i think cater does mask some of his more serious feelings, as trey implied he suspected. i think cater probably does get tired of being the mediator. i think being the third in command at heartslabyul is exhausting and cater's a teen boy with a lot of complicated feelings, but i think he has fun with lilia and kalim in pop music club. i think he and trey are genuine friends - they roomed together for 2 years! i think he loves teasing his little freshmen buddies like a big brother lol. i'm about to go on about riddle and cater in the next question but fkljsdfjlkse.

yes cater holds back, but i dont think that means he's never expressed genuine feelings either!!!

8- common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

i am biting anyone that tries to imply cater and riddle arent friends or that trey prefers riddle over cater!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LISTEN listen listen. ok i get that it can be an interesting concept to explore of the potential tension between cater riddle and trey w/like childhood friends trey and riddle but then bestie 3rd years trey and cater but then riddle shows up and takes control- i get it! i dont necessarily think it's wrong to explore that potential area.

however. HOWEVER. we are talking about MY options and thoughts and feelings on beloved heartslabyul LOL. And I think cater and riddle ARE FRIENDS!!!!!!! i think all three of them!!!! are!!!!! FRIENDS!!!!!!!! THEY GET ALONG THEY LOVE EACH OTHER!!!! some people portray riddle as being annoyed with cater or whatever and like , on one hand riddle is annoyed at many things and caycay's kind of a goofball so like yeah to a degree that's true LOL but!!!! BUT!!!!! riddle trusts cater. riddle likes cater!!! if you've read the heartslabyul card stories as many times as i have fjlksjkejs you would KNOW that riddle trusts cater enough to have him and trey at his side constantly and gives them BOTH roles of leading the underclassmen for stuff like preparing for the unbirthday parties!! and when he's having his little meltdowns in book 1, trey and cater were the ones he had kind of on the front lines of ejecting ace or whatever klsjfv they are his trusted boys!!! AND in halloween 2 when cater was missing, riddle said usually he'd get on cater's case for talking too much (lol) but he, along with trey and ace, were 😔😔😔 making the saddest of faces as he said it felt weird to NOT hear cater making his jokes to lighten the mood, and trey ALSO commented on how cater's usually there to smooth things over. cater is a mediator and a morale booster and he is recognized as such!!

plus!!! riddle made a point in his dorm outfit story of helping cater study, as he does with all the heartslabyul boys that are struggling, but in a way cater could understand. he literally made a magicam and used it exclusively to help cater focus better and learn in a way that worked for him. like yea he loses his temper, bc hes Like That, but he ALSO cares. he also tries! he's got his flaws but he's still in spite of those flaws doing what he can to try and understand the people around him and especially his TRUSTED FRIENDS LIKE CATER!!!!

and trey loves cater too!!! they are friends!!! yes yes whatever i read the cater gym story where trey goes "u and me are tight but riddle and i are tighter as his housewarden lol" listen to me. LISTEN TO ME. grabbing u all by the shoulders and shaking you so much LISTENNNNNNNNNNNN. again i get it that it can be fun to explore that further of like "ough he chooses riddle over cater cater is all alone" and like im not the fun police people can do what they want. HOWEVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i do not think it was That Deep. like maybe it was, maybe a little bit. but i did not read that as "trey doesnt care about cater" or anything like that. i very much see trey and cater's bond as like easygoing well oiled machine but also with a lot of banter and teasing. trey has said on a home screen line (i wanna say it's his ceremony robes card) that he and cater's friendship just kinda naturally fell into place bc cater's really easy to get along with and trey feels like he can be himself around him [which yes coupled with the line he says in starsending about how he feels like maybe cater's got more personal wishes that maybe he doesnt feel like he can share with Trey Specifically is. painful. LOL] and actually!!! in both their ceremony robes stories they are together and trey is teasing cater i think lol. like in cater's they're doing the guessing game of which dorm each student would get sorted into. theyre playing a game!!! cater's being silly sometimes and treys kinda shaking his head at him for some of his comments, but theyre getting along and are comfortable and it's a lighthearted thing. then in trey's story, theyre panicking about how the roses arent painted how they should be, trey says caters gotta split card and go for it and is like "lol thanks for ur sacrifice ♥", caters like THATS EXHAUSTINGGGGGG and treys like "yea yea ill listen to you complain all you want later". and trey smiles to himself at caters magicam post right after! it's endearing. panic together, solutions together, complaining and teasing but ultimately they work well together! they are friends who get along! trey is kind of a goofy guy but it's not as apparent, but i think we see it a little more especially within heartslabyul and especially with cater. maybe thats part of what he means by feeling like he can be more relaxed and stuff around cay. god theres so much of cater and trey being absolute besties - even grim and lilia have separate lines commenting on how theyre like bffs. grim mentions it in the scalding sands event, something about how it's no surprise that cater invited trey to come on the trip. and lilia in book 5 straight up says [in the engtwst translation] "I'm surprised you didn't invite your partner, Trey." and then i mean yea cater immediately is like "wahhh i DID but hes busy helping riddle he rejected meeee we are rejected buddiessss" and later is like "wahhh riddle stole trey away~!!!" when theyre checking on everything lol. BUT i think a lot of that is like just caycay bein silly and trey not only had other obligations but also was likely not going to want to do a performance thing anyway [trey even says later like 'i told you im bad at song and dance lol'] fsjklejkf like i dont think it's that deep here, i think cay was just havin a goof complaining and wanting to hang with his buddies lol. but my point was lilia basically being like "hey man where is your other half that you are constantly with" BECAUSE THEY ARE FRIENDS!!!

ok. ive. been typing for like an hour or so JKLjfldjsf I AM SO SORRY I LOVE TALKING ABOUT CHARACTERS SO MUCH I CANNOT BE BRIEF ABOUT THESE STUPID PIXEL BOYS!!! THEY MEAN EVERYTHING TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!! thank u for enabling me 😌

[VIOLENCE QUESTIONS] [if this essay wasnt enough LOL]

#asks #terristre #sorry terr you are in fact the one trapped in here with ME actually #like five times i started typing 'well i THINK it went this way-' #and then just pulled up the game on my phone to fact check bc i knew where all these parts were jklsfjlsj #i was only wrong on one thing - i initially had cay and trey's robe stories swapped #i had the content right i just forgot which story was with whose card #okokok im done now GIRL HELP #if im known for anything on tumblr dot com i would have to guess it is being insufferable about Characters #especially twst characters. especially heartslabyul characters. hhehfehfhhhbhfdhbfhh I HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS ABOUT THEM

[autisticmagicalgirls]

Hey I'm still alive, just have been having a lotta mental and physical health stuff going on. I did finally decide on some names for the characters, though! As well as a bit of personalities!

---

The wand user is named Ethel Hart. Xe works very hard at school, and xir biggest fear is being seen as a failure. Xe works a bit too hard to avoid that, which may eventually cause burnout. Xe doesn't have a special interest, but rather, cycles through sort-term hyperfixations on various nonfiction topics to read about. As such, if xir memory is functioning right, xe has approximate knowledge of several things. Buuuut xe has an issue of getting facts mixed up in xir head sometimes due to swapping interests so often.

For example, xe can tell you some fun facts about spiders if you encounter one, buuuut xe might forget which ones are poisonous. Perhaps the three are fighting a snake monster. Are its bites poisonous? Was it round or diamond heads that have pois- whoops too late, Chrissy got bit. Guess Ethel'll find out which it was soon enough.

Xe lives in a college dorm as xe desperately tries to figure out what xe wants to major in for xir bachelor's degree. There's so many choices! There's so much stuff to learn! Deciding on just one stresses xir out.

-----

Bear arms/hands user is Christina "Chrissy" Robinson. She is mute, and uses an AAC device to communicate with others. She does know sign language, but only really uses it at home when she doesn't have her AAC with her, such as if it's dead or she left it on the couch when going to grab some food.

She lives with her sister, Pauline (Polly), who acts as her caregiver and helps her out whereever she can. Their mom is a doctor, and isn't home a lot. She pays Polly to help care for Chrissy since Chrissy has trouble with certain things. The two girls have only recently moved to town to be closer to their mom's workplace.

I'm thinking I might have Chrissy's dyspraxia be rough. Like... She has difficulty balancing when going up and down steps, trouble gripping small objects like forks and pencils and such, and she tends to either drop things or grasp them too hard. She also tends to fall a lot, if not careful.

I'm flip flopping between weather or not she minds eye contact, but anyway,

Due to her dyspraxia she has difficulty doing certain things like cooking, cleaning, bathing, and other things. Her sister helps her as needed, and Chrissy also has some devices and tools that help her out. For example, a spoon with a thick handle that's easier for her to grasp, with a mechanism to help itself stay balanced even if her hand goes shakey. I'm not sure what else though! If anyone has ideas, let me know. Perhaps a cane would be helpful? Idk. My dyspraxia isn't that severe, so I'd like to hear some from those who struggle with it more than me!

As for Christina's personality, she's sarcastic, blunt, and she's a bit abrasive when it comes to interacting with new people. She doesn't trust easily. Growing up she was bullied a lot and had some friends betray her trust, so now she's a bit standoffish with new people as a sort of defense mechanism. Friends can't betray you if you have none, right? People can't attack your insecurities if you hide them behind enough false confidence, right?

She read the words "fake it til you make it" and she FELT that shit. In junior year of high school, she started closing herself off, whilst putting on a show of false confidence. She began insulting people back when they made fun of her, and eventually they seemed to shut up and stop bothering her. So that's been her strategy for the last few years.

As such, she might be a bit of an asshole at the start. It'll take some work for her to open up to working with the other two. Knowing her she'd probably try to go it alone several times and get her ass kicked hard a few times before begrudgingly admitting she needs their help.

Maybe as she befriends them and slowly lets them into her heart, she'll realize that not everyone will betray her and that she can trust people again.

I'd say her biggest fear is being all alone. As much as she intentionally tries to drive people away so that they can't hurt her, she's also fucking terrified of being fully alone. She wants people to love and trust, but she feels like it could just lead to more pain. And yet... She doesn't want to be alone.

As for Zaps, I'm still working on her personality and her whole name, but I'm thinking she'll try out "Hannah" first

#autistic magical girl #nd magical girl #autistic magical girls #magical girl #magical girls #actuallydisabled #actually disabled #actually neurodivergent #actuallyautistic #actually autistic #actually adhd

[jeysuso]

I love hearing your thoughts on this story. My heart hurts so much for Jey. I can't help thinking though and would love your opinion on Samis reaction. I think about his confrontation with Jimmy, how he showed him compassion, reaching out to him even post rumble beat down, just wanting to talk and acknowledging Jey had endured abuse at the hands of Roman, that they all had especially Jey. But with Jeys actions on Monday Samis immediate reaction is retaliation. There is 0 compassion for Jey like there was for Jimmy at first even though Sami acknowledged the abuse, even though he knew Jey was conflicted and he could hear Jey acknowledge he didn't want to hurt him. I feel like I'm missing something here or something important was being skipped to integrate Cody into the story. Granted this is wrestling this is a fake fighting show typically with little substance. The issue with this story is there HAS been substance, the players have been soo soo good better then they have any right to be and better then what we would expect so I want to know A B C before the big fight because they made me care. So I would love your thoughts on whySami/Jey s happening this way. Why did Sami show little understanding for Jey verses for Jimmy when both attacked him and only one acknowledged regret and it's the one he seems angrier with.

hey bestie!!! oh 🥺💜 thank you dldhlkj i think i talk too much about it but i appreciate it genuinely that's really sweet and i'm glad <3

but okay so honestly i could be talking out my ass here but i think sami's angry. that's basically it. like, he thought he and jey were on the same level here. he's been fighting for jey for months (honestly, he fought against roman to protect jey a lot more than i realised 'til fairly recently, even when jey maybe didn't deserve it so much) and i think he's hurt over the way jey went about choosing a side. jey didn't tell him face to face that he couldn't side with him, that he had to be there for jimmy, he didn't try make sami understand in the way he probably could've. had he gone to sami and said look, jimmy's my brother. i'll never turn on my brother, then i think sami would be acting a lot differently, but i think it'd still be a "then i have to do what i have to do, you understand that, right?" situation because he wants to take roman down. the bloodline is toxic and sami wants to see the end of it, but he's mostly fueled on revenge and anger over the realisation that he's been manipulated and used by roman, too. in truth i think sami's just upset because jey, essentially, tricked him. made him think that he had sided with him only to blindside him with the superkick and then throw him in the ring so jimmy and solo could hurt him, too.

i think that's sort of what he meant when he said "you did what you had to, now i have to do what i have to," at the end of smackdown. he doesn't really want to do it either but he has to, and that means he's got to fight jey now jey's made his choice, because sami (in his head) gave him an out. i do think sami needs to take into consideration that this is jey's family, though. he knows jey's been a victim of roman's for years now, has fought in his corner on multiple occasions. it doesn't sit too right with me that he would completely turn on jey after this when there's no way he doesn't know he had no choice. sami's given jey countless chances throughout this whole storyline and tbh i don't buy that he would just give up on that now. truthfully i think the only reason they'd pit them against each other now is because they need the usos to lose their belts at wrestlemania, and since they're not giving sami roman's title, they have to give him something.

idk, i think sami's hurt. i think we might see a glimpse of something on friday when they're having their match, because jey didn't look like he wanted to fight sami at all, and they're obviously not currently going down the "jey's a heel" route but the "jey's in a desperate situation with no way out" route and it wouldn't really make sense to have sami just ignore that. plus, the pop when everyone thought jey had chose sami? they're not throwing away that reaction. jey and sami are like, the modern day rock 'n' sock connection. it makes no sense why it works so fucking well but it does. their in-ring chemistry is off the charts. and i think the fact they've had jey basically say he didn't want to hurt sami but he had to says they know it, too.

#anon ask #💜💜💜💜 #ask #cw: long post #jey uso #sami zayn #having said all of this i DO think cody is an issue here #because i think they need to make him the Main Guy but sami is obviously the champion of the people rn #people wanna see sami not cody #so they needed an excuse to involve cody in the storyline and make it work #enter sami stage left #you bring out the guy everyone's endorsing suddenly and have your biggest face right now fight alongside him? clear tactic to get cody over #cause so far his return has been flatter than the crowd's reaction to baron corbin vs. chad gable #plus!!! i'm gonna say it. i think sami cares more about jey than he does jimmy #and that's why he's so angry

[mortau]

@mandysxmuses x

"Right?! That's exactly how I feel. If you don't like how are you are right now, just.. be who you want to be instead. Work at it until you get it. Fake it 'til ya make it or whatever."

While in his case it never felt like it worked, it had to have worked for someone. Maybe it worked out for Sal.

"Honestly, I... Don't know how much I believe in that, either. I think that we're just our actions. It doesn't really matter what's going on up there, yaknow? Like... If you hurt someone, even if you think you have a good reason... You still hurt someone." If you leave your girlfriend just so she can get taken by the crazy bastard who took your brother, you were selfish. If you fled to New Zealand as soon as things got rough, you were a coward. 

"I dunno. I've just been doing a lot of thinking recently. Maybe I should stop that." He paused. "Hey, Jemand... Ivanka is being tortured now. because I left her. Do you think... That might be my fault? Not Henri's or, hell, even Kanou's... but mine?"

#mandysxmuses #sylvester || ic #verse || main story

[aajjks]

Hey, I need some advice. I can’t talk to the people around me because I know it will be a biased answer, so i’ll ask you (sorry if it bothers you). So because of my dad’s work I’ve been moving a lot since birth basically and well I have to say that it does have advantages it also has very bad cons. For example: friendships and relationships. I suck at communication and I don’t enjoy texting because I feel so forced to do it and it hurts, I suck really in terms of long distance relationships, and that’s basically what my life has become (so I usually don’t). When I was in secondary school I used to be the nerdy borderline pick me (just a little bit though) weird girl, I am now in high school and since covid hit I changed, I’d say I look prettier and dress better (used to wear only jeans and hoodies but now I wear skirts and dresses). The thing is I moved (changed literal country) between my last year of secondary school and high school during covid. I don’t really post anything on social media so people from my old school don’t really know I changed. I also with the years that went by grew an enormous amount of anxiety that destroyed my self esteem. In October my old school organised a kind of reunion to give us our diplomas/graduation thing, and obviously I want to go but I also feel stressed about the whole ordeal. I haven’t talked to my friends for like a year, I feel disgusting since all of them looked amazing and now even better and I just feel ugly and sad. I’m sorry this is so long but I really don’t know what to do…

Oh no… it’s okay sweetheart!!!! Do not stress… I know and I understand you, it can be hard to keep moving and you’ve changed country…. I think it is natural to feel either disconnected or gain attachment issues. I get it cus I have severe anxiety issues too… and my social skills have died… I just want to say that….. do not feel disgusting.

You are perfect even tho you might not feel like you’re at your best, even I don’t… but they are your friends right? I say fake it til you make it…

Do not feel like you are ugly, trust me, you are far from it…. I just have a feeling, I advise you to attend your reunion and give it a try… it’s okay and completely normal to be nervous or feeling insecure.

You are so pretty and perfect, you sound like it & I think your friends probably miss you, they will be so happy to see you, maybe you will be too? No?

Just don’t let your anxiety get the best of you. I know it’s easy to say but I fake it til I make it.

#asks

[brotherlysuggestion]

Hey, bro, this is.. weird to say but here we are. I really hope y’all are okay and doing well ⊂(´• ω •`⊂)

I was in the suggestion community at its peak, one real popular blog and one more midsize but I just wanted to thank you for your kindness and help and care and support. You and your blog really did help a lotta people. And it really helped keep me here and keep me going. I happened to see a post of yours and it brought back so much tenderness and I’m so.. glad and grateful for you. All of you.

I’m a lot better and in much safer situations and have much more caring people now who treat and love me how I deserve. And I’m a much better, safer, more loving person too. I’m still growing through things and there’s still stormy days, but I’m so happy to be here. It’s really nice to be able to tell you this, to think that you’d maybe be proud of me, and I’m proud of you too.

I dunno if you’re still here and if you’ll end up reading this, you don’t have to, but.. thank you. so so much. Thank you <3

Hey, little sib 💖

I promise we are still here!! I know that we post very infrequently, but we’re definitely still here! (Tbh we spend a lot less time on tumblr as a whole across all of our blogs. I’ll personally check MAYBE once or twice a week for 5-15 minutes at a time. We also run this blog as a DID system, and some alters have fused or gone dormant over time, and we haven’t been fully sure how to navigate that wrt posting).

I’m so glad that you’re doing better than before! I’m glad that you could find a better environment, and we’re all absolutely, incredibly proud of you for putting in the work to grow as a person.

I hope that I’m not reading what you’ve said wrong (if I have, ignore me lol), but if I’m right; Remember that it’s hard (if not nigh impossible) to keep yourself from developing unhealthy behaviors/patterns when you’re trying to survive in a toxic environment. Even if they aren’t useful to you anymore, you needed them to survive at the time, and that isn’t a moral failing on your part. Remember to be gentle to yourself, and don’t hold past mistakes against yourself.

Honestly, I don’t know if we’ve ever shared this on this blog before, but I (Mod Static) made this suggestion blog when I was in a really dark place in my life. I was maybe 15 or 16? And either very close to needing to be taken inpatient at a psychiatric unit, or barely out of my time being inpatient in the psych unit. Part of this blog was protectors and caretakers (Mod Bandage and Mod Sunflower, especially) leaving little messages that they thought I needed to hear. Another part of it was me trying to reassure myself that things would be okay, sort of a “fake it ‘til you make it” thing?

The suggestion community being so welcoming, open, and interactive really did save me tbh. It made me feel like I had a use in the world (NOT to say that you have to be useful or in any way justify your existence to others, but it’s a personal hangup that I feel this way). That people would notice if I disappeared. I met a lot of friends through the community; some of which I still touch base with on occasion, and others that turned out not to be such great company to keep. Either way, those friends kept me alive, too, even if it was just long enough to meet better people for me.

I guess that ramble is to say that as much as I’ve helped anyone, I don’t know how much you all realize how much you’ve helped me. All of your asks made me feel like I needed to be here, whether it was the ones asking for advice, or dropping by to say hello, or thank-yous, or sharing successes. I’ll always be incredibly grateful for that.

I love you, all of my little siblings out there. Thank you for letting me be your brother.

#mod static #not a suggestion #text heavy #Aaa sorry that I took so long to respond to this!! I have a lot going on and I’m also forgetful #but this ask meant a lot to me and I wanted to gush #also you absolutely were not weird don’t worry!! I honestly get happy whenever I get asks here #even if I am not the best at responding to all of them

[catsofwillowclan]

"An Apprentice By Any Other Name"

"Pipitstar stands above the clan and proclaims that Thriftpaw shall now be known as Thrifteye, honoring their zeal"

Thriftpaw asks Rueprance a very important question.

-----

"Hey, Rueprance... could I ask you a question?"

"Mmm... sure, what's up?" Rueprance hums, still focused intently on the river rushes she's been weaving together into a small makeshift basket for the fresh kill they'd caught earlier. She's been fiddling with them for half an hour now, braiding the fibers together while she and Thriftpaw sat on the warm river stones to soak their feet in the cool, clear water.

There's a long pause. The river burbles to fill the space.

"It's... sort of a big thing to ask. You don't have to listen, if you don't want to," The boy says, much more nervously than usual. The odd tone makes her look up from her work to see Thriftpaw's big silver eyes were looking at her more seriously than she thinks he's ever been, at least as long as she's known him, and she shifts to sit up straight.

"No, no, you can ask!" she says quickly, trying to reassure him from whatever doubts that must be racing through his mind and setting the basket aside. "We have plenty of time til they'll need us back home."

Thriftpaw scrunches his nose and looks back at the rushing water, his silver eyes tracing the shape of the far bank and trying to avoid catching Rueprance's gaze again.

"Well..." he starts, toes fidgeting with the loose stone in the riverbed, "My warrior ceremony is coming up soon, y'know, and... I'm gonna need someone to give me my new name. Lilacspeck and Oakshade scare me, and Pipitstar is really busy, so I don't want to bother her - and she'd probably give me something weird, anyway," He laughs. Nervously, which sounded wrong coming out of Thriftpaw's mouth. "And you're, like, the closest to my age, and we hang out a lot, so I thought that maybe..."

"Of course!!" Rueprance exclaims, interrupting before he can even formally ask the question. She can't contain the rapid butterflies growing in her stomach - her big blue eyes are wide as the moon, the basket laying entirely forgotten by the cottontail rabbits they'd caught as she leans forward.

He's asking her to name him? Her? The biggest question an apprentice can ask, and he isn't picking his mentor - does that mean she was his best friend? Or, well, best warrior friend, she supposes, giving a sly thought to Auburnpaw, but that doesn't matter, because only a warrior can name an apprentice anyway.

"Of course, I'd be honored to, Thriftpaw!" She says again, scooting to sit right next to Thriftpaw, who's now looking at her with surprise and a not-insignificant amount of relief plastered all over his face. "I can't believe you'd ask me, this means so much... do you have any ideas? I'm sure you've thought about it. I mean, who hasn't thought about what they want their warrior name to be?"

"No, I haven't - didn't. I don't want to tell you what to do for it or anything," Thriftpaw says quickly as his gaze darts away, tucking his hands under his legs. "I mean, isn't the point that you get to pick it?"

Rueprance shrugs. "I mean, yeah, but also no. Sometimes people ask because they have something in mind and it's really just a formality. One of my friends back in Tarnclan wanted to be named Eaglewing so bad she got her mentor to do it in exchange for taking their night watch duties for a whole year."

Thriftpaw snickers. "That's stupid," he says, and his shoulders are much further away from his ears now. "Cool name, but like... is it worth double night watch for a year?" He fakes a grimace, but Rueprance raises an eyebrow.

"Hey, with some of the names people get stuck with, you better believe she'd put up with no sleep. So you better be grateful when I give you something that's not stupid." She turns up her nose, mock-haughtiness cracked with a playful grin, and Thriftpaw scoffs, his eyes flashing with mischief.

"If you give me a stupid name, I'm gonna tell Pipitstar about every time you dodged patrol to go hang out by the lake instead."

"As if! Then I'll just snitch about how many times you took extra cloudberries from Quiverpelt's stash."

"They're good!" He exclaims, throwing up his hands and splashing Rueprance in a shower of river water.

She squeals, trying to turn away against the watery attack while splashing her feet in retaliation. Thriftpaw laughs, ducking away from Rueprance's own barrage, but she doesn't care if she gets wet - not when she's been entrusted with such an important job.

"Don't think just because I asked you to name me that you get a free pass from water fights!" he says, his eyes glinting sharp in the midday sun.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Rueprance replies, warm as the sun on the rocks, before she dumps another splash of water right on his head.

#writing #thriftpaw #thrifteye #rueprance #oakshade #pipitstar #lilacspeck #auburnpaw #quiverpelt #clangen #warriors

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 263

Rock Never Dies/Hell Bent

“Rock Never Dies”

Plot Description: Castiel and Crowley close in on Lucifer as the fallen angel realizes his new rock-star vessel allows him to get fans to do whatever he wants

This is such a huge “ask and you shall receive,” but as I thought harder on it last night, didn’t Rowena banish Lucifer to the bottom of the ocean after decaying his body a whole bunch?? How is he back already??

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: I would not try to summon Lucifer, I’m good

I was promised Castiel, why are we getting Dean playing Words With Friends??

The boys really do stick to small towns and whatnot. It’s gonna be weird seeing them in LA

It’s bad that you have to lie to Dean saying you’re listening to a podcast on the Protestant reformation just so you can MAYBE listen to your hair metal band (that Dean hates) in peace

You leave Castiel and his one outfit alone, Dean. You have, like, 10 and they ALL make you look like a lumberjack. Hashtag team cas

Poor Castiellllll, he’s so over working with Crowley

Oh, Cas…can’t tell the difference between the aftermath of a fight and the aftermath of a rockstar ~spending time~ with a groupie

Apparently, sometimes it does pay to have Crowley on your team. You get perspectives you never thought you would that way

How did Castiel get in with Vince/Lucifer’s band mates? The Winchesters are posing as a band themselves to Vince’s PR person, Crowley has a deal with a guy in the music industry….but Cas??

(There was a lot of just trying to get to the concert that happened that wasn’t too interesting)

I don’t wanna watch Lucifer beat the shit out of Cas and Crowley…

Ok but Sam being the one thing standing between the crowd getting out and Lucifer locking them in the venue with him??? And then Lucifer locking Sam in the venue with him???????

I AM here for Castiel beating the shit out of Lucifer and getting to repeat his “Hey, assbutt!” line

Sometimes you pause at the exact right time

Well, that didn’t last long

Ok but like…………sympathy for the devil has gone way up again “he finally apologizes for abandoning me, and what’s the very next thing he dies? Ditches me” luciiiiiiii, babyyyyyyyy. He’s really having an existential crisis and spiraling into a very “nothing fucking matters” mindset

Did Horikoshi watch supernatural when coming up with Dabi? Lucifer is really breaking down all while saying that his whole plan is to just keep breaking everything his dad created

Jesus, Crowley, you look terrible

“Hell Bent”

Plot Description: the Doctor faces the Time Lords in a struggle that will take him to the end of time

I don’t know why we’re starting in this sort of random and almost certainly fake scene between the Doctor and Clara in a 50s style diner (or not really Clara)

I know he’s on Gallifrey now but I truly do t know what’s going on

This poor Gallifrean woman who keeps getting hassled by the military and high council all while the Doctor refuses to see them…til the high council’s leader comes calling

Oooooo!!!! The Doctor telling the Gallifrean president “get off my planet.”

Ok, so not Clara and the Doctor is happening in some sort of real time and everything on Gallifrey is in the recent-ish past

Ok…I’m probably gonna Gonzo and Rizzo when the ghost of Christmas yet to come showed up, but more out of confusion than fear

Well cuz now I’m wondering if the Hybrid IS the Doctor. I know he said he was, but what about Clara? Clara who we met as Oswin in the Dalek asylum, who kept so much of her humanity while being a Dalek…whose very continued existence as the Doctor tries to save her even know could fracture all of time

We already knew I love the Daleks but hearing this one yelling out “exterminate me” is heartbreaking

Did Clara ever come up against the angels? Why would she know what to do in their presence??

I’m not ready to hear the Doctor’s answer to how long it’s been since he last saw Clara.

I’m shattered at the Doctor not telling her, Clara had to ask someone else…and it was 4.5 billion years. 4.5 BILLION. YEARS. of running and solving the puzzle and dying and reincarnating, trying to claw his way out of the confessional dial just for the chance to maybe save his best friend’s life. I am a wreck

Ohhhhhh, Doctor, you really shouldn’t have been alone so long. This is just like at the end of Ten’s time. He really believes he is the end all be all of time and existence, that he answers to no one because we’re at the last dying embers of the universe.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME WITH FOUR KNOCKS????

Not Arya is also here at the end of time.

What?? I’m ngl I’m getting a little lost in all the “who/what is the Hybrid?” theories they’re tossing around

I hate watching them say goodbye AGAIN.

Why does the Doctor and a companion who was his BEST FRIEND always have to end in a memory wipe for one of them???? There’s an emptiness and yet i can’t stop crying

Wait… is this the diner from the impossible astronaut? Is he remembering incorrectly? I knew it looked familiar

Oh, she returned his TARDIS to himmmm

I’d love to have a mini series of Clara and Not Arya’s adventures on their way to Gallifrey…

Oh thank god he has a sonic screwdriver again

#hellsite nostalgia tour 2023

[iwonderifyouknowhow]

Entry #1

Hey Tumblr!

Long time no nothing. I've decided to try to put what I'm feeling and going through right now into words. I've never been good at communicating my feelings. I guess putting these feelings, emotions or sentiments here will do me wonders (will save me lots of money instead of going to a shrink lol jk).

The past few months haven't been the greatest. Recently finished a gruelling 4-month career course; which was physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausting. I wish the circumstances during that course were different. Before starting it, i was looking forward to it but instead the course was filled with disappointment and heartbreaks. I just keep telling myself that the good times i had with my friends outweighed the traumatic experiences. Fake it til you make it baby.

Weeks after i graduated this career course, i found myself longing and going back to the things i used to love when i was a teenager and in my early twenties. Glee, Naya Rivera, Dianna Agron, Taylor Swift, Swiftgron, Laguna Beach, HBO Girls, anything and everything pop culture. Hearing Glee Cast songs and Taylor Swift while I'm driving feels like going through another dimension. I often find myself in autopilot, when i snap out of my trance I'm wondering why I'm still alive and haven't caused any road accidents lol. I've recently gone binge watching Dianna Agron's films, Hollow in the Land, Novitiate, As They Made Us, Clock (though haven't finished this one yet).

As for my career trajectory, I am due for promotion later this year but it doesn't give me any fulfilment or happiness. I miss feeling happy and full of joy. Maybe the reason i do not feel any joy in my job right now is the lack of freedom. As of this moment, I'm thinking of resigning next year or early 2025, just need to save some more and move to another country. I wish I'd chosen a different path in my life, i wish i fought for my dreams of being a photographer rather than my current profession. I envy people who followed their passions instead of following something that puts extra letters attached to your name. Hell, I'd rather be a bartender or mixologist in a foreign country right now than continue my current job. I wish i was braver and defiant when I was younger.

#journal #life #glee #Spotify #swiftgron #rivergron

[themculibrary]

Fics With Titles That Start With F Masterlist

Fake (Date) It Til You Make It (ao3) - Blizzard_Fire bruce/clint M, 6k

Summary: ‘Hey Doc,’ Clint said one morning, strolling into the lab, ‘Can you date me?’ Bruce frowned up at him. ‘Why?’ ‘To fuck with Tony, mainly.'

Bruce and Clint start fake-dating to mess with the others. But then it becomes a question of how long they can keep this up, and maybe their “dates” aren’t quite so platonic anymore…

Falling For You (Hook, Line, and Sinker) (ao3) - FestiveFerret steve/tony E, 62k

Summary: After being thawed, Steve's adrift in the 21st century. There's nothing for him here, just the endless cycle of pre-packaged food, pointless training exercises, and long hours at the gym. But when he takes on a new project, it leads him to a new friend - one who might open up all kinds of new doors, new feelings, new experiences. Or might just break his heart.

Fate Will Play Us Out (ao3) - steveandbucky steve/bucky E, 30k

Summary: Bucky has landed himself a job with Stark Industries. He doesn't know yet that the job is actually being the PR manager for the Avengers.

Bucky has also started dating Steve Rogers. He also doesn't know yet that Steve is Captain America.

Bucky's life is about to get a whole lot more exciting.

fed up with hunger (ao3) - frankoceansmoonriver steve/bucky, steve/oc N/R, 10k

Summary: the one where it's 1939 and sometimes Steve thinks that having is worse than wanting.

Figures A and B (ao3) - castiowl steve/bucky M, 7k

Summary: Steve and Bucky are finally together again, but how should they tell the rest of the Avengers? Turns out, they're plenty good at figuring it out themselves.

In which people walk in on make-out sessions, Steve accidentally goes speed-dating, and friends can actually be too accepting.

Finding Home (ao3) - ruffaled rhodey/sam T, 5k

Summary: The world is ending. Again. And after being on the run for three years, as an internationally wanted fugitive, Sam Wilson finally gets to go home.

Finding Me (And You) Along the Way (ao3) - pherryt bucky/clint T, 10k

Summary: When Clint retired - pre-Loki, pre-Avengers - he'd never expected that his leisurely world tour might be joined a couple years later by Captain America's best friend. A best friend who'd gone through things nobody should ever have had to go through and was just trying to find himself again.

Even if Clint hadn't already promised Steve to keep an eye out for Bucky, he'd have caved in the direction of helping. There was just something about him...

Fire and Water for Your Love (ao3) - dragongirlG steve/bucky, pepper/tony E, 77k

Summary: When the Avengers investigate an abandoned HYDRA base on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D., they unexpectedly encounter a dark-haired man with a torn metal arm, who leads them to an even more shocking discovery deeper inside the base. The Avengers must reconcile what they have found with the lies S.H.I.E.L.D. has been telling for decades.

(First Impressions Are) A Work in Progress (ao3) - ras_elased steve/tony M, 15k

Summary: Tony has a point system for the times he can get Steve to be less than perfect.

first one's free (ao3) - shatteredhourglass clint/tony E, 5k

Summary: Clint Barton has a crush on Iron Man. Clint Barton is also sleeping with Tony Stark on the regular. All in all, it's a mess.

Five times Steve kissed Bucky (ao3) - paragon (beverlymarshian) steve/bucky T, 16k

Summary: (+ once, finally, it was the other way around)

Flesh And Bones (ao3) - asgardianthot sam/bucky N/R, 25k

Summary: in a world where people bond with their soulmates through physical pain, living in the same compound makes the search much easier (or it should, if they weren't so damn stubborn)

Flicker (ao3) - Cinderstrato steve/bucky M, 49k

Summary: Bucky Barnes knows how to live off the grid. For someone who’s spent a solid half-century being a shadow, it’s almost too easy. Unfortunately, he’s on the run with a man who's never turned tail before in the course of his entire stubborn life.

The war’s over, and they’ve all lost.

Post-Civil War speculation.

Flirting in Formal Wear (ao3) - Rivulet027 bucky/clint T, 10k

Summary: Bucky isn't use to all the events the Avengers go to that require them to dress formally. He doesn't even have his own ties. Thankfully Clint is there to help him.

Follow in Your Footsteps (ao3) - Sineala steve/tony T, 6k

Summary: When Tony is twelve, his soulmate's name appears on his wrist. Unfortunately, it's hard to find out anything at all about Steve Rogers.

It turns out there's a reason for that.

For a Good Time Call... (ao3) - TenSpencerRiedPlease steve/tony, bucky/natasha N/R, 98k

Summary: Tony has always wanted to try calling a number on the inside of a bathroom stall, just to see what happened. So when he sees ‘for a good time call...’ followed by a number while taking a shit he figures why the hell not? It wasn’t like he was known for being the most… rational person on the planet.

“Hello?” the voice on the other end says. Tony stares at it for a second in shock, “hello?” the person asks again.

“Uh, not gunna lie, I wasn’t expecting to get this far,” Tony says.

Forgive Me My Weakness (but i don't know why ) (ao3) - Fox (Foxen) bucky/clint T, 11k

Summary: When Bucky begins to have set backs in his recovery, he's sent to Clint’s farmhouse in order to heal in peace and quiet.

Clint just can't figure out why he's been entrusted with the care of the ex-assassin when he can’t even get his own shit together.

fourth of july (ao3) - AliuIce0814 steve/bucky M, 7k

Summary: All of Steve's best and worst birthdays have somehow featured Bucky Barnes.

For Want of a Hero (ao3) - reona32 steve/tony G, 18k

Summary: It had started as a fairly normal day and went quickly down hill with the sound of crunching metal and squealing tires in Steve's ear.

Friends to Lovers And All The Dumb Ass Decisions In-between (ao3) - CaptainJimothyCarter bucky/clint E, 10k

Summary: Clint absolutely hates his English teacher for making him write letters to some kid in Brooklyn thanks to this ridiculous pen pal program she's making them all do. Things aren't so bad when he learns about his pen pal and how he finds it easy to talk to him.

Things aren't going so great in Clint's life in between bouncing around in foster homes, finally being reunited with Barney after the system tore them apart, and heavy depressive episodes.

He finds comfort in Bucky and his quick wit and awkward flirts.

From a Distance (ao3) - VolceVoice clint/phil T, 35k

Summary: “I jump into stuff,” he said. “Leap first, think later. And I’ve always seen things better from a distance. Guess I don't have to tell you that.

“So when you wanted to keep us on the QT, I assumed it was to keep the gossip down, so no one would think I was a way to get to you or that I was sleeping my way to a level five. I got too close, too fast to see that the reason you didn't want to tell anyone is that you just weren't that into me.”

#themculibrary #mcu #marvel #ficsf #ficsf masterlist #masterlists