#theme com appearance

[venusandlotus]

Pick a pile

What are the themes that your life will have from 5 years from now on?

Pile 1 —> 2

Pile 3 —> 4

Like and reblog if u liked my reading :)

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Pile 1

Queen of swords , knight of swords , 10 of pentacles , 8 of cups

•mental health

•financial stability

•walking away from something

According to the cards the themes may revolve around walking away from something , not necessarily a toxic situation or person but it can be also moving away from a place or maybe leaving a job , leaving university and I also see most of you having a good mental diet at that time and even if you are not having a good mental state right now but in this comming 5 years you mental health will be alot of better and you will know how to choose your words wisely and you wont let anybody take upperhand upon you easily the only advice i want to give you here is to have an honest talk with yourself when you are confused about something and put ur energy only on making yourself better bit by bit each day , the other thing i noticed is that if some of you are concerned about financial stability then it will improve too. Its more like an- upgraded life in this comming 5 years .

Pile 2

The devil , the chariot , 5 of cups , king of cups

• conflicting situation ( a situation which will need full clarity )

• loosing someone or maybe leaving somone / leaving things behind

• finding hope at the end

So for this pile I may warn you not to trust anybody or jump into any projects or deals instantly in these comming years. The devil card can represent any kind of toxicity because a lot of you will be reading this and all of yall have different lives so the toxic thing can be anything in your lives it can be a relationship, it can be a friendship, it can a place which doesnt brings you hope ( smwhere u stay ) , it can be also a business deal . For those who are into work related things please read terms - agreements , rules and regulations carefully to avoid future regrets , not saying dissapointment or loss is comming or it is going to happen for sure but just be safe and alert regarding your personal and important things , this pile is more like warning for some of you and this also goes for students for education - universities related things too coz it is possible that u might even meet toxic company there and for the remaining people i would like to advice you guys to not to give in easily on new people bcoz the cards here seems fishy I know that at the end things will work out and for majority of you even if something like this happens , at the end you will be more balanced after the so called situation but some of you can fall into bad things so take this as a sign of warning .

Pile 3

Three of cups , the hermit, the sun , page of cups

•living a balanced life

•meeting new people

•isolating when needed

For this pile most of you guys will be leading on a balanced life filled with good energy , balanced mental health. I also see most of yall being with people with whom u get along with every well , if u dont have many friends its possible that u might meet people who share same intrest/passion as you or u may find yourself in a place where there are lots of people . As there is also the hermit card here but its not alone this card appeared along with the sun card so maybe some of you may even find comfort in isolating yourself ( if u are an extrovert ) but i do sense that even if you isolate urself you will be able to create a balance between ur social life and personal life easily so it wont be a mess . When i started reading for this pile i sensed lots of happy moments and happy get togethers with loved ones so its also possible that there will be celebration or addition of new people in the family . A lot of yall have different lives so take what resonates.

Pile 4

The emperor , the lovers , four of wands , the world

•getting married / finding your soulmate

•getting your dream job / getting a job that helps u alot more than u even expected

•meeting a lot of like minded people

So for this pile all these cards really pointed out towards marriage lol i was surprised at first if some of you guys are thinking of getting married then its likely to happen , its also possible that some of you may even find your soulmate within these comming 5 years and another thing is that if some of you have unresolved family issue or problems its possible that they might get a little bit lighter in these comming 5 years and for some of you its possible that you might even get the jobs that u have always wanted but these comming 5 years will be positive and favourable for you another thing i can also interpret is that even if you are living in a bad situation right now its possible that u might leave that behind soon in these comming years and u will love your life again .

[musedblues]

FOREVER AND FOR REAL

(photo edits by @pitifulbaby_ on insta)

a/n: daisy jones eat your fucking heart out. i present yet another rockstar!eddie fic. this one features fem rockstar!reader, a fake marrige, a lot of reckless behavior and lovely little ending.

warnings: descriptions of sex, drugs, rock and roll, themes abt alcoholism/addiction, mentions of abusive ex partners, god-awful rom com tropes, fantastical bullshit. sorry not sorry for this yall know i love a good fake marriage 

30k

MINORS DNI

/// New York 1988 -

"So, how did it start with you and Eddie?" The woman from the Rolling Stone smiled as she quizzed you. Her voice was low, her demeanor was patient.

"He asked for my autograph." You revealed with a laugh.

///

Sunset Strip 1986 -

The rooftop party was in full swing. Your labels oldest and most endeared studio musician had announced his retirement and everyone who was anyone showed up to his celebratory send off.

Ozzy was stumbling from guest to guest. Prince was casting smug grins from his poolside perch. You were being reprimanded by you manager in the middle of the shindig.

"Go wish Terry a happy retirement and maybe go catch up with some other studio musicians while you're at it. You can't let your last guitarists new rumors ruin your reputation. We'll need to hire some of these people to record your next album, you know?" Kelsey snarled, his cigarette-stained smile repulsing you. He was a hard ass. That made him a damn successful manager. And a shitty fucking person.

You grumbled and spun to do what he said, trying to stay in favor with the musicians who worked under your label was a must. If only you would have known falling in love with your last guitarist would result in the messiest breakup of all time. If only he hadn't spread such vial rumors about you to his fellow studio musicians and the press.

But they were just rumors. And you had proven yourself to be one of the music's scenes most prominent figures in the past few years. You wouldn't let this hiccup be the one to topple over everything you worked so hard to achieve.

On your mission to save your name, you stopped by the rooftop bar. There were a cast of patrons who parted to let you ahead in line. That was a good sign. You still held an absurd amount of social import. After asking the man behind the counter for a vodka soda, a commotion turned everyone's gaze.

Out of thin air, was the illustrious Eddie Munson. In a flash he jumped behind the mini bar and proceeded to pour the drink you asked for. He was hammered, the drunkest of any attendee. He was smiling at you as you accepted the vodka... and then he introduced himself.

"I of course know who you are." Eddie smiled, ignoring the bartender who was frustratedly insisting the guitarist get out from behind the workspace. Eddie was leaned against the counter, watching you laugh and roll your eyes. Of course, he knew you. And of course, you knew him. He was the newest name attached to your shared label, but perhaps the most famous.

In the one year that Eddies band Corroded Coffin had appeared on the scene, their music and personage had taken over rock and roll. Their tours were selling out, their greenrooms were stuffed with groupies, their producers were booking studios so far out in advance your next session had to be postponed.

"I've known who you are since your first single became the soundtrack of the summer of '84. I've had your posters on my walls. Would it be impossibly tacky of me to ask for your autograph?" Eddie slurred, but past his inebriation lied a sparkle in his eye that you read as genuine.

"Our generations most admired guitar virtuoso is asking for my signature?" You snorted. "I should be asking for yours. Could sell it for millions." You grinned back, watching Eddie's wide smile faulter as the bartender had started swatting his shoulders, demanding he leave.

"Okay, okay. I'll go." The rockstar turned and submitted with a sigh, and a paused smirk. "But only after one more shot." Eddie spun to grab a bottle of whiskey, lifting the nozzle to hold over his opened mouth, draining more than a shot worth as the small crowd of party goers cheered him on. The bartender cursed Eddie, snatched the bottle back, and announced he was calling security. Eddie had heard enough, hoping over the bar, his boots shinning across your field of vision as he whizzed past you, landing stealthily, and grabbing your wrist on his sudden escape.

"That way!" You chuckled, just buzzed enough to let yourself enjoy the change of pace. Eddie darted in your demanded direction and found a pair of elevators around the rooftops pool, busied by party goers.

As the pair of you lunged into the lift, you reached for the buttons to shut the doors fast as possible. They slid together in slow motion as your fingers fumbled over the buttons, pressing a couple different floors by mistake as the ride descended. Eddie's laughter rang in your ear as he drunkenly bobbed to find footing. But soon as the pair of you were being lowered to freedom, your ride creaked eerily to a halt. The doors did not open. The ride did not move.

"Oh no." You called, racing to press more buttons but worrying that your initial doing so was what had stopped the ride. But surely the button meant to press for an emergency was safe, right?

"We stopped?" Eddie realized, his lithe grin faltering, sobriety bubbling into his gaze.

"Shit, I'm so sorry." You turned to face the rockstar, who was just realizing the gravity of your situation. Just then a crackly voice rang through the rides system, informing the pair of you that your alert was received and asking what had happened. A nice enough woman assured help was on the way and insisted the pair of you stay calm. You started to apologize to Eddie once more when he waved to dismiss you.

"No, it's my fault for dragging you away with me. I'm kind of a pro at causing so much trouble."

"There are worse rockers to be trapped in an elevator with." You chuckled, leaning back against one of the walls railings.

"Took the words outta my mouth... I do want your autograph. Heartbeaten was the only album I played the winter it came out."

"You're a very dangerous flirt, you know that?" You warned, looking the guitarist up and down. It was beyond flattering to hear your music complimented by a musician you admired all the same. It didn't hurt how easy it was to look at Eddie, either. Leather clad, hair a mess, eyes glazed over by the night's events. You'd forgotten for a moment that you were trapped.

"Is it getting hot in here? I'd say it's cause of you but I don't really like this..." Eddie tried to play off his worry but you watched his chest rise and fall and remembered you were trapped and suddenly everything became more realistically grim. You pressed the emergency button once more and the kind woman insisted the fire department was on their way up now.

"Just a couple more minutes." You nodded toward Eddie. "We'll be out of here before you know it."

"Thank God." Eddie noted. "But I might just miss you, ya know?"

All of a sudden it hit you. Everything you'd been through in the past year played like a montage through your mind, leading up to this moment. You realized you hadn't been trapped so much as given a golden opportunity to ask a very important question to what seemed like the exact right person.

"Eddie..."

"Yeah?"

"I'll sign my album for you if you do something for me?"

Just then a loud scraping against the metal entrance broke your collective focus on each other. A group of firemen pushed open the elevator doors by aid of some tools, informed the pair of you had been stuck on the 17th floor, and escorted you down the stairwell asking a few questions about how everything had gone down.

When you and Eddie reached the lobby, a woman you'd recognized from the label's office came hurrying toward the pair of you. She had to be Eddie's manager.

"I think it's time we go." The woman offered you a polite smile before turning a stern gaze to Eddie. "You've already pissed off three of the four bartenders here tonight. And I'm sure you've overstayed your welcome in her presence, Munson." She eye'd you.

"Actually, he was just agreeing to meet me in my studio over the weekend." You blurted. Eddie was the best player on the scene. He was your best and maybe only hope. Eddie beamed at you, realizing that this was your barter for giving your autograph to the rockstar.

"I'd love to work together." You spoke quickly enough to result in a blush of embarrassment. You were usually good at keeping your cool. But something about Eddie made you giddy and terrified and everything else all at once. You watched as Eddie's manager nodded in contemplation.

"I know Kelsey. I'll give him a call to set up the times." She dropped your managers name and yanked Eddie away in a hurry. The rocker didn't go without flashing you a smile and a wave before stumbling off through the lobby. After that, nothing was keeping you at the party any longer, either.

///

Century City L.A. 1986 -

When Eddie breezed into your recording booth the next weekend, he was refreshingly sober; and made sure you knew how grateful he was for the invitation. He slung his guitar around his back and shook your hand and listened intently to your vision for the music you were creating.

Eddie's presence was magnifying. But differently than you'd expected. You'd seen headlines and heard rumors float about from countless greenroom groupies and stagehands. Eddie Munson had gained quite the salacious reputation within the year fame had found him. He was no stranger to romantic quarrels and quandaries, legal battles, displays of public intoxication, the whole shebang. You knew he was going to captivate you, he already had. But he was not so unruly as the press made him out to be.

Eddie was respectful, desperate to fully understand your musical vison. Eddie was kind, complimenting your work and the tracks you'd scrapped together so far. Eddie was brilliant, adding licks and riffs right away that you'd never dreamed you'd be lucky enough to have featured throughout your music. He helped you write what you hadn't finished. He made you laugh in the middle of recording and apologized profusely when you had to start over and over again.

He said he could only stay for a couple of hours. But two hours turned into two days, turned into two weeks. When it was finished, your third album, Steel & Stone, had a healthy dose of Eddie's input sprinkled throughout. It was more a collaboration than a solo record. It was fucking Beautiful. Your producers thought so too. They said your sounds married well together.

That made Eddie laugh. And then it gave him an idea.

"The album cover should be a wedding! I've got it all figured out!" He excitedly sketched out his suggestions for your albums cover; and because he was so excited, you humored the guy by scheduling a photoshoot. A week later you were cutting up an old, thrifted wedding dress in Eddie's back garden. He'd hired a fake priest and invited some friends over to fill the background.

The pair of you looked fetching, Eddie in his size too small tux. loose tie, hair pulled back. You, in a ragged old dress, pearls hanging past your torso. The photos for the album cover came out killer, you and Eddie looked like a bride and groom out of a horror show. It was perfect.

The paparazzi thought so too. Somehow, someone with a camera and a lot of guts managed to snap a bevy of photos of your make-believe wedding over the hedges of Eddies back garden.

The photos were all over the tabloids the next day, and Hollywood went berserk at the news of your presumed wedding to the rock God. You found out when your phone clattered to life at 7am the next day. You answered the line to a frantic Eddie, who was less concerned about the rumor that you two had gotten legitimately married than the fact that his privacy was so easily invaded. So, you suggested he schedule a meeting with your real estate agent to find a safer, better shielded home. And because he was too frantic to take notes, you huffed and headed over to his humble abode to help the poor boy plan.

It wasn't even twenty-four hours later that rumors the pair of you were house hunting together sparked interest alongside the blurry wedding photos. News of your alleged link to Eddie traveled fast, but your management worked faster. Forty-two hours after the gossip spread, you and Eddie were called in to address the rumor mill.

///

"Sit, both of you, and listen to our pitch in completion before you voice opinions." Eddies manager, Brooke, was stood before an oak desk, she was a sharply dressed middle aged cunning sort of a woman you respected for rising to ranks men usually dominated in the industry.

You and Eddie gave each other a look as you settled in opposite armchairs. This was going to be interesting. Your manager was sat at the head of the desk, eager to have his turn of attention.

"In the past few months, both of you have been in a little trouble with the press, no?" Kelsey began, gazing over his tinted glasses to meet your eye.

"Try the past year." Eddie huffed a laugh, sitting back. The musician really had always been linked to some salacious headlines since his rise to stardom. You were rather new to the negative press, but had done a better job beating the allegations, you thought.

Brooke slid a trio of papers across an oak desk then. One showed a collage of tabloid write ups from the past few days. Every word gushed over the supposed connection you and Eddie shared. It was an overwhelming collection of rose-colored journalism. The other two papers looked like contracts.

"We think," Brooke breathed, glancing to Kelsey, "given the immense positive reaction to your supposed wedding, that you and Eddie staying allegedly betrothed is a divine PR opportunity to push alongside the new album you're each equal parts credited to have made."

"You want us to pretend to be married?" Eddie laughed. The kind of chuckle that burst from behind his teeth, like a kid in class that couldn't help but disrupt.

"Of course we do. Just for five months, till the start of next year. Besides being a brilliant PR move to promote Steel & Stone, it could save your ass, Munson."

"What's my ass got to do with anything?" Eddie quipped.

"Edward, now is a good time to inform you that your label is threatening to drop you if you don't get your shit together before this year ends. You don't want to pass the point of no return, do you?" The news hung in the air with, menacing finality. Eddie's carless behavior was catching up with him.

"Settling down in general is a good look for you. Settling down with this world famous takes no shit rock and roll chick is even better. You both get to remain reckless, except now with morals. America just creamed their pants. The tabloids have already begun rebranding Eddie, let see what was it..." She picked up a daily newsprint to quote...

"Ah yes, 'From Don Juan to I Do, can this wild rocker finally be tamed?' Cheesy but you get the gist. This positive spotlight might be your last before you're dubbed hopeless!" Brooke tossed the newsprint in Eddies lap. He grumbled back a "Hey!"

Then Kelsey spoke up...

"Of course you're not in such hot waters," He pointed your way, "but the sooner we clear up the mess you let your last guitarist make, the better off you'll be."

"I didn't let-"

"You will sign these contracts." Kelsey boomed, jabbing his finger on the dotted line of the paper in front of you. The room went quiet as his voice rattled the walls. "We'd hate for the premier of your new album to be delayed while you remain obstinate."

"You can't do that." You stated. You worried.

"We're going to talk about this." Eddie stretched from his seat and swatted your shoulder to meet him in the hall. You followed gladly, anxious to get out of the tension filled room.

A few steps closer toward the stairwell, Eddie slowed there. "Kelsey is a scary fucker, huh?"

"A lot of information just came at us at once. I think we should-" You tried to reason as you stalled at his side.

"I don't want to delay your album." Eddie blurted; brows pressed tightly together. "I don't want you to have to lug me around for five months either." He leaned against the wall, jamming a fist in one of his many leather pockets for a cigarette.

"I won't be lugging you around, doofus." You laughed, kicking his boots with your heel. "I dunno. You do need a bit of a boost in the social department. Every girl I know has a story about you, Edward Munson."

"Yeah, I know. Got outta control on tours. But you know I've been doing better, we talked in the studio about how big of an idiot I used to be. But I'm tryin'. Apologizin' and shit! I don't want you to feel like you gotta save me. I'm working on that myself!"

"I've witnessed the progress you've made! Lita called last week to gossip and she didn't curse your name once!" You noted, dropping the name of the mutual friend and one Eddie's many ex-lovers.

"See! You don't need to be fake married to me. I'm my own personally savior. Hey, that's a good lyric..."

"Listen. If we did this, it's mostly because I'm worried about the album's release being threatened. And only a little bit because I would want to help clean your social slate and save you from being dropped from the label. So..."

"Awe, you like me enough to clean up after me? Gives me reason to keep making messes..." Eddie sing songed, breathing out smoke and shooting you a wink that made your eyes roll. You had been given a small thrill when you helped Eddie escape disaster upon your first meeting. You wouldn't mind having to look out for him for a few more months in a row.

"Look, do you want my help or not? My offer is about to be swiftly redacted!" You'd been moved to this major act of charity after spending that week in the studio, learning about the guy behind the guitar. He was much more than all those famous songs and infamous rumors and those silly rambled in the broken elevator. He was funny and smart and you liked him enough by now to consider doing this insane fucking thing. But too, there was a pit opening in your stomach that warned if you didn't do exactly as Kelsey wished, he would fuck shit up for you worse than he originally threatened.

"Okay! It seems like we're doing this. But no lugging me, got it!" Eddie sighed past his smoke, decided all of the sudden. You barely had time to process what you'd both agreed to before agreeing, but there you were.

"No lugging!" You echoed, rounding your shoulders as you slinked back into the room with the papers. You didn't like your work being held over your head. But you didn't see much harm in letting the rumors go on a little longer. You were looking at the tabloid cover story about what a perfect couple you made. All very sanguine. Why fix something that wasn't broken?

The pair of you signed on the dotted line.

That same afternoon, you were sent to pick out wedding bands. You quite admired a tiger-eye stone; but before you could ask how much it would cost, Kelsey had picked out gaudy diamond studded rings for both you and Eddie. You then realized this wasn't your relationship at all. None of this was up to you. But you'd be expected to act as if it was.

///

The Beverly Hills Hotel 1986 -

"Tell us about the wedding! Did you write your own vows?" A voice called from a pit full of reporters, each one of them as sly and insatiable as the last.

You and Eddie were sat shoulder to shoulder at the press conference meant to discuss your collaboration album that hit shelves the midnight before. And too, Eddie was meant to announce his L.A residency and you were meant to announce your upcoming tour. But you both knew your alleged wedding would be the subject on the tip of every tongue. This was it. The real test.

"I wanted to sing my vows but apparently that was too theatrical." Eddie joked, charming the room, shooting winks and stretching out smiles. What a fucking bullshitter.

"You've always been a showoff." You glanced to the man out of the corner of your eye as you spoke into your mic on the table before you. He was eating this up.

"That's right. I'm my best self in the spotlight. So now I'd like to announce for the next two months I've accepted a residency at the Roxy. One show every weekend until November. Dates will be in Rolling Stone this Monday!"

Cameras clicked and voices muddled over one another as reporters clamored to ask a million things. Your manager picked one man with a notepad out of the mix. His question was for you.

"Will you be able to enjoy a honeymoon before your husband goes back to work?"

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes,

"I'll be going to work myself. I'm touring this summer, a few dates need decided before tickets go on sale next week. We've got to promote this new album. Any questions about Steel & Stone? Any at all?"

The crowd roared louder than before. Reporters demanded to know why you and Eddie would be spending so much time apart so soon after tying the knot. Questions about the strength of your love and were directed at you like shrapnel. They wanted to know how two musicians with separate demanding schedules could maintain a happy life as a couple. They wanted to know why a honeymoon had failed to be arranged.

"If you must know, we're spending the weekend in Hawaii. Then, my wife and I will get to work promoting this very well made new album that you should all buy and review warmly!"

Oh, this motherfucker. Eddie was concerned about you lugging him around given this arrangement? Well, he never warned you about the bullshit antics he was eager to pull first shot he got a chance. You should have known better than to sign up for anything with this wildcard of a man.

To your surprise, Eddie's little joke couldn't be left to rest. By the end of the press conference Kelsey had your meetings canceled and a flight booked for Honolulu Friday morning. Shit, this was about to be a really weird year.

On the way out of the conference hall, you let Eddie kiss you on the cheek where the cameras could see before hurrying into a shared limo.

"Are you sure you wanna spend two days and three nights in Hawaii together?" You wondered, settling into the ride as it started zooming off. "You might get so sick of me we blow this whole thing."

"Relax babe, we'll be so chill beach side that we won't worry about stuff like that. Plus, why not make the most of this thing? Enjoy it!" Eddie shrugged and looked at you with a softness in his gaze. You saw a reflection of exhaustion you recognized. You both worked hard. Maybe it was time to sit back while the ride whirled on, for now.

"Plus, I'd rather play it cool with you for five more months than get sued for breaking contract." Eddie winked at you and popped open the limos complementary bottle of Champaigne.

///

New York 1988 -

"I wrote my first album at eighteen years old. Sold out Madison Square Garden by 19. Made three platinum records by 20. But Eddie gifted me the song that made my third album the nation's best seller for three months in a row. He played guitar on that track because I asked him too. He squirmed his way onto four more tracks because he was that charming. He was that good. He was one of the best guitarists I knew."

You bragged to Rolling Stone, watching her take notes and nod along, grinning past her cigarette. As she scribbled away you thought back to that time with reverence.

That invitation to play on Steel & Stone was never meant to be more than just that. An invitation for Eddie to play in your studio for a couple hours. But that invitation morphed into a lasting connection no one could have seen coming. You didn't regret that it happened. But perhaps if you hadn't let your management teams concoct such a devious plan to pair the two of you up contractually, you and Eddie would have been spared a world of hurt.

Eddie was one year younger than you but perhaps somehow even more famous. Maybe because he was a man, but probably because he was more talented. You could write, you could sing. But so could Eddie. He wrote and sang and played guitar and bass and drums and was a wizard behind any sound booth. A musician's musician through and through. It's something you admired about him.

But Eddie, like yourself, was a rockstar. He was reckless and late and messy and incorrigible. When the pair of you really got going, you'd bicker like bitches. When you were forced to make appearances together, the bantering made the tabloids. And apparently, sold records too. You'd seen the numbers yourself. Associating with Eddie was good for your career, back then. And vice versa.

"Next question."

///

Hawaii 1986 -

Brooke handled booking your fake honeymoon, thank God. She actually asked where you'd like to stay, how you'd like to spend your false vacation. You fantasized about a tiny little bungalow with shops nearby enough to walk to and days free of any plans.

After your plane landed and your cab ride stopped, you were left standing before the cottage of your dreams. Behind a wooden picket fence was a green home with wide windows, cozy and inviting. You hurried up the porch steps, dragging your suitcase as fast as the heavy thing would follow.

Inside was warm and homey as you could have imagined, big comfy furniture cluttered around a fireplace. A square kitchen with walls full of cabinets, plants on the large stretched out windowsills, a staircase that led to just three bedrooms. The lack of extravagance made you realize you didn't feel at home at all in your ridiculous Hollywood estate. There was more space in that home than you could fill with money or good intention. But this quiet and calm seaside bungalow would break your heart to leave, you already knew.

"Look, they already stocked the fridge," Eddie laughed behind where you admired the homes decor. "Benefits of super stardom I suppose." You turned to meet him where he stood when something else caught your eye.

"Brooke left a note." You realized, finding her scrawl on the kitchen island.

'The next three days are mostly yours to do what you please. But you must be seen out together at least once a day, given the rules of your contract. There are a row of shops a few minutes west of here and there are dinner reservations at the cities most renowned restaurant on your last night. The details and address is at the bottom of this note.'

"Right." You laughed. "It's 'our time to do as we please,' so long as we follow their rules."

"And that's the drawback of super stardom." Eddie pointed, bending to pick up both of your bags, heading toward the stairs. He announced that he'd leave your stuff in the bigger room, assuming there would be one. You announced a thanks for his chivalry and roamed toward the patio doors that opened to a private pool. Past the little garden area was the most spectacular view of the ocean, the roar of the waves providing glorious white noise.

"So... what do we do now?" You called out to your weekend roommate who you lost amongst the floor plan. You thought he was still upstairs. But as you shut the patio doors, Eddie appeared in the doorway of the kitchen with a guitar case in hand.

"Wanna write?"

So with the sun setting and nothing better to do, you sat across from Eddie on opposite ends of the cozy living space and hummed along as he made up chords for what felt like forever. Neither of you spoke much, only letting your craft occupy the time.

How funny this was, in a weird sort of way. When you met Eddie, it wasn't like you were meeting at all. It was as if you'd always known each other. Banter wasn't just easy with him, it was natural. But now, once the pair of you had been left completely alone, the silence between the pair of you was full of tension. He'd look past his curly fringe every once in a while, to shoot you a grin when he liked a melody you came up with. And you'd ask him to show you a tab or two. What happened to the effortless chatter? Why was there a buzzing in your chest in his presence, all of a sudden? It was time to get up, it had to be dinner time now.

You expected the counter space to be full of liquor, as food and drink of all kinds had been stocked. But not a single adult beverage was in your line of sight. You opened a couple of cabinets until you finally found a single bottle of cabernet. Your favorite brand too, thank God.

"I'm making pasta and opening some wine. Do you want a glass?" You called out, knowing Eddie was still one room away.

"No, no." He sighed. "I really shouldn't."

"Shouldn't you? We're supposed to be relaxing and indulging!" You teased, still only getting one glass down from the open-faced cupboard.

"I kind of just got out of rehab." He called back. The news was a shock to you, since you'd met him blindingly drunk, and he hadn't left town since you'd made his acquaintance.

"Oh?"

You listened to the clatter of Eddie's instrument into its case as you found ingredients for your planned meal. His presence in the room was made soon after.

"Went to rehab. Two months. Told everyone I was recording, managed to put out Chains of Sorrow in a reasonable amount of time to make the fans believe I'd been in the studio all that time. I've been doing better." Eddie explained. The solo track he referenced came out four months before you'd met him. You asked if it bothered him that you were drinking now and he gave you a stern no.

"You've been doing better. But not always sober?" You daringly quizzed, Watching the man you fake married move from the far end of the kitchen, closer toward you.

"Recovering, not completely recovered." He grinned, leaning against the marble island. "Call it what you'd like. I've gotten good at only getting smashed at parties and saying no everything other time."

"And how many parties have you been to?" You smiled, casting the guy a suspicious glance.

"Can I help you with dinner?" He chuckled, shaking his head to your previous question. You considered the guy before you, his loosely buttoned cutoff flannel, the flutter of his eyes.

"Come, I'll show you how to make my special spaghetti sauce." You laughed. Eddie smiled in response but did not move per your request. He stood and took a hissing breath in before meeting your gaze to say,

"Before we stray too far from the topic... I have a terrible confession."

You stared at the guy, eyes flickering from his withheld grin to the tattoos on his arms.

"I don't remember meeting you at all. When my manager told me I planned to crash your studio I was so embarrassed. Did I make a complete fool of myself that night?"

"You would have if I didn't help you outrun an angry bartender. And you did ask for my autograph. Like three times. But I got us stuck in an elevator." You chuckled, handing Eddie a knife and placing a trio of tomatoes before him.

"Oh... my God."

"I promised to sign my first record, but you never brought it to the studio... I guess because you didn't remember." You pieced together, setting out other ingredients to add to your sauce as the pasta boiled on the stove. The realization that Eddie had blacked out during your first adventure together selfishly stung. You were left to carry the fond memory all alone. Left to wonder what else he may forget in the future, left to wonder why that might matter much at all to you.

"Alright, I'm going to be perfectly suave on this trip. No more being completely stupid." Eddie grinned and proceeded to follow your instructions on making dinner. The pair of you went on to laugh and cook and talk about Hollywood gossip until midnight.

When it was time for bed, Eddie followed you up the stairs. He went down one hall and you went down another, but not before casting a glance over your shoulder to find Eddie was looking back too.

///

The sun was especially warm the next morning, the rays soothing your skin from the window before the light opened your eyes.

You rose with an anxious glee, excited to find where the day would take you, but nervous all the same. Ever since ending up in this predicament with Eddie, his company made your heartbeat a little heavier. Your connection was an amusement ride, an adventure, an experience.

When you padded out into the main room, you found the patio doors wide open. Your eyes followed a set of footprints in the sand that belonged to Eddie, who was milling about the shore, looking for shells. You smiled to yourself and went about making some coffee, watching the man from the comfort of shelter.

After your morning cuppa and a little nourishment, Eddie popped his head in the doorway.

"Hey!" He called. His curls were dripping sea water onto the hardwood, his chest rising and falling quickly. Did he run up here?

"You're getting the doorway all wet!"

"Come out here with me! The waves are beautiful."

"The ocean freaks me out, Eddie!" You revealed. Would have sooner if his declaration about going to Hawaii wasn't so sudden and so public.

"Awe man!" He rang like a disgruntled grade schooler. "Well at least come walk the shore with me. We have to be seen together, remember?"

There were resorts and shops easily seen to the west of your private beach front. There were surly paps and press waiting nearby to score shots of you and Eddie after his announcement about coming to stay here.

"Ugh, okay." You huffed, declaring something about finding your bikini. You and Eddie had signed a contract. And there was one clear rule. Be seen together as much as possible.

You found Eddie on the shoreline again and trekked to meet him. He smiled at you and asked once more if you'd join him in the sea. The waves were roaring, and the vastness of the water sent a chill down your spine. Your hesitation was answer enough for Eddie, who shrugged and nodded and started walking along the sea's edge, holding out his hand for you to join him.

He let you keep hold of him as the pair of you meandered along the shore, a little closer toward the resorts in the distance. Your ever dancing nerves fell away as the pair of you talked about space and time and the existence of mythical creatures. And at the end of your fantastical conversation Eddie went quiet, letting his deep eyes search your face.

"Should I kiss you? Ya know, in case someone is watching?" He asked matter of factly, stalling in the sunlight that sparkled through his glittering sand sprinkled curls.

"What if no one is watching?" You countered, daring to reach out and loop one of your fingers around Eddies, holding on. The guy simply shrugged, keeping his eyes locked on yours. Considering the rules, you were meant to follow, you let a small nod tilt your chin. Eddie watched you come to a positive conclusion and took his sweet time leaning in. Eddie stalled for a moment, letting his breath fam across your lips, and you thought that was curious. For a kiss just meant for show, he was sure being timid.

"Eddie, you don't have to kiss me if you don't want too." You chuckled only to lighten the tension. He grinned in response, letting his dark eyes dart across your features.

"That's the problem, babe." He rose a brow. "I really want to. More than I ought to."

That made you pause and consider this whole crazy thing. You thought of how you got into this predicament and how Eddie was looking at you now, and the billions of things you wanted to say. In the time you stayed quiet and full of consideration for how to move on, Eddie became too antsy to let you say more at all.

"Should we go back in?"

"No," You shook your head. "No let's enjoy the weather." You assured, reaching a handout to brush Eddie' bicep as if to reassure him. So that's just what you did. You kicked about, dodged waves that came to close to the shore, and baked in the sun until it started to lower from its highest point in the sky.

After running in, washing up, and realizing there was still so much time left to waste, you talked Eddie into going out. You asked him to put on something nice and call a cab to drop the pair of you off at a local place by the sea.

Per the suggestion of the local driver, you and Eddie ended up at a quaint little outdoor eatery. The staff was so delighted by your surprise appearance that they invited you and Eddie to skip the line, sat you at their alleged best table, and poured you each a complimentary glass of champagne.

You tried to wave the waiter off, to dismiss them from giving Eddie the glass of sparkling wine.

"S'okay. Don't wanna be rude." Eddie insisted, taking a small sip out of obligation. You rose a brow and sat back and decided it was a night out. Eddie had said he was doing better. You chose to believe him and placed your order for the night.

"So," You spoke. "Should we come up with an elaborate backstory? Some swoon worthy anecdote about how you asked me to be your wife? A sickly sweet first date memory?"

"I think the story we have is suitable enough. You stopped me from making a fool of myself at a party, let me play on your badass new album, and I fell head over heels." Eddie laughed, but despite himself, it seemed. He breathed out a small sigh as he settled his elbows on the table. It seemed he was trying to say more.

"Everything okay, dear?" You emphasized the pet name to poke fun at your situation. You watched as the well-dressed man chewed his lip in contemplation.

"This whole thing... are you sure you're okay with it?" You knew what he meant.

"Yeah, I mean, it's not hurting us, is it? It's helping you out of the hole you're in with the label and it's selling our album. I never thought I'd be married for real but, this isn't so bad."

"What are you talking about? Everyone loves you. " He pointed, sitting up a little straighter.

"Everyone loves my persona." You pointed, lifting a finger as Eddie rose a brow. "Everyone loves my music. Loving me, is another story. Loving me is personal. I can't imagine letting anyone in that vulnerably, anymore."

"Oh, anymore?" Eddie quipped, sitting back as the waiter brought complimentary appetizers. You were going to refrain from drinking to make Eddie feel more comfortable, but at the turn of topics, you reached for the glass to calm the jitters.

"You know how I needed a someone to play guitar on my album?" You recalled. Eddie nodded, obviously. "Well, that's because I let my last guitarist get to know me a little too well."

You downed your champagne and was delighted when a staff member dropped another off right on cue.

"Go on, please..." Eddie motioned with a fork, taking a bite of food and staring at you with curious intensity.

"Well I'm sure you've heard the rumors." You shrugged.

"I have." Eddie carefully admitted. "But I always figured they were nothing more than just rumors. I do want to hear your side of the story..."

"My last guitarist and I had a fling. And right when I started to think I loved him... well it just didn't work out. So after the breakup, this motherfuker went around telling every studio musician that the only way they could play on my album was in exchange for sex. He said that was the price he had to pay. As if we hadn't been dating." You began with a scoff. "He took it further by telling the press I slept my way to the top. Probably because I wasn't giving him the time of day near then end and he was bitter that I'd been with so many others who are far more relevant than he'll ever be."

You reveled to Eddie some of the more horrific details of your last disastrous relationship and how it ended, because he asked. Eddie seemed to genuinely listen to the details you gave. Eddie took a few more sips of champagne.

"Fuck that dude to the moon and back. You didn't tell me I had the shoes of an asshole to fill!" Eddie grumbled past his mouth full of food.

"That's because I didn't want you filling his shoes. I like your shoes. I like you. And I'm grateful you played on my album and that crazy as it is, that we're in this fucked up situation together."

"This just... isn't how I wanted things to be with you."

"Oh?" You wondered, taking a hesitant bite of the dinner that had just been delivered.

"I mean... the whole thing with the contract and the lie. I thought I could ask you out for a nice dinner, like a normal date. I feel shitty about having trapped you in some kind of publicity stunt."

"You wanted to take me out for real?" You grinned, settling into your posture.

"I did. But now it's this whole circus and it's so disingenuous. I don't want you to think I'm getting to know you because I'm contractually obligated."

"You're a sweetheart, you know that?" You smiled. Eddie smiled back, and seemed to wait for you to speak further, but you had nothing more to say, you couldn't have any more to say. You planned to keep your heart on lock down. You planned to remain closed off. Being open and willing with others had only resulted in heartache in the past, in this industry. And you couldn't imagine that with Eddie. You wanted to enjoy your time with Eddie.

"I'm not willing to let my guard down for you, Eddie. But we can make the most of our circumstance, if you really want."

"What do you mean?" He puzzled, brow furrowed.

"Ask me again back at the house." You shrugged and smiled and sipped more champagne.

Dinner went on between bits of conversation that grew deeper each sentence. Eddie revealed childhood traumas. You voiced secrete fears about your career. The pair of you laughed hard over old jokes you'd heard on TV specials and picked four albums each you'd bring on deserted islands. You each finished one more glass of champagne.

Hawaii was stunning, even at night. You wondered if Eddie made the comment knowing how lovely it was here, if he needed such a rejuvenating get away. He seemed less at ease as the evening went on, however, chewing at his lip and wringing his hands the whole ride home. You hoped you plans for tonight would change that... but he had to ask you that question again.

///

Back at the house you stood, squinting to see the midnight waves from the patio doorway. Relishing their sounds, the crash of the ocean, the breeze through the windchimes near the pool. This was proving to be a very relaxing getaway indeed. You could get used to Eddies ideas. He was off up the stairs, getting ready to call it an evening you presumed. But then he appeared in his swim trunks, headed straight for the hot tub on the patio. He announced his intentions and halfheartedly invited you to join.

How curious, you thought, Eddie was so magnetic, but every time the pair of you became secluded in this home, he seemed to hide a bit of himself away all the same. You understood it, of course. Youd just admitted to doing the very same. But the pair of you had been more than open with each other by now. What had him so aloof here?

You shrugged, and spun to put on a record while concocting a plan. Of course you were banking on Eddie bringing up the question you once reminded him too, but a little nudge wouldn't hurt. After picking a Chet Baker album to spin, you decidedly flounced over toward the hot tub, watching Eddie rest there with his gaze locked on you.

"You're supposed to join me, remember?" He called, sinking a little lower beneath the bubbling waters. You watching his dark eyes fix on yours, and made your decision.

"If you insist." You smiled. The silky dress you'd worn to dinner would surely be ruined by the chemically enhanced waters. So, you slipped it off right there on the patio and hurried to the hot tub in undergarments that were just as good as any bikini.

"Happy now?" You rang, sinking so far below the water that only your eyes floated above the surface, locking on to Eddies still intensely held gaze.

"Delighted in the throes of post false marital bliss." Eddie laughed, a breathy sound he seemed to have to force a little. His eyes tore away from yours, looking for a distraction. "Shame they gave us the rings you don't like, though." He held a hand up from the bubbles to consider his diamond studded band. Yours matched because it had too.

"The rings are ugly. But we've made it work well so far I think. Haven't been this sure of a relationship since Steve Vai, you know?" It was a joke, but it was not. You'd loved your time with Steve. It was your most renowned relationship in the eyes of the press and all your friends to date. And though this time with Eddie was a sham, the connection you had to him felt frighteningly natural.

"Fuckin' Vai. Why'd you guys break up anyway? Seemed good together."

"Steve got back with his college girlfriend around the same time I opened for Metallica. Kirk swept me off my feet."

"You and Kirk? So that really happened." Eddie gapped at you with a grin. You'd kept that relationship on the down low, though a few good paparazzi photos tried to test the limits of the connection you'd had with the metal guitarist. He broke your fucking heart, ending things when that tour was said and done.

"I have a type, it seems. Dark haired dreamy eyed guitarists." The one before you now was the most intriguing of them all. And he knew it too. He had too. The way his eyes locked on yours changed. The way silence fell between the pair of you rang loud with anticipation, no matter who might speak next.

"What did you mean earlier?" Eddie finally wondered.

"When I said we could make the most of this, if you wanted?" You grinned, staying put for a beat longer in the spot you'd been floating. What you were about to suggest would either make or break the next five months you were meant to endure together. You sincerely hoped it would land well. You watched Eddie nod for you to continue.

"Well, I simply won't allow myself to fall in love with you." You prefaced, inching closer. It was easy to move through the water, stalling centimeters away from the man who shared the space with you. You could feel the heat radiating from Eddies form- even though the warmth of the bubbling water. "But I wouldn't mind enjoying the benefits of having a partner, even if we're just playing pretend." You dared to glide flush against the rockstar, resting each of your knees on either side of his lap with calculated caution. A set of his fingers brushed against your thigh in an instant, but that could have been a reflex. You needed a yes or no.

"Wanna have fun while this is meant to last?" You asked in a hush, your fingers resting gently on Eddies broad shoulders. His other hand came to rest on your hip. His faltered smirk gave you confidence to lean in for a kiss no one could see.

He kissed you back, lips timidly locked against yours, muscles tense under your fingers. But after a couple more careful pecks, his passion grew. Eddies lips parted against yours, and a sigh escaped his lips. You had him right where you wanted him. He grabbed you, nails dug into your hips, teeth piercing against your neck.

You had no fear raking your fingers through his curls to claw at the roots of his hair, maneuvering him to kiss your lips again. Eddie did so intensely, tongue jammed down your throat. His grip pulling you closer, his hips jutting up against yours. You couldn't wait much longer to go all the way, body language suggesting that's how far the pair of you would take this, it seemed.

Eddie whined a curse as your hand slipped below his waist band, kissing hard as ever. He let his fingers drift across your form until he reached the hem on your underwear, yanking them to the side. Before you knew it you were sliding into his lap as he pushed completely into you. Eddies fingers bruised against your hips and your nails dug into the back of his neck. You both rocked together, slack jawed and doe eyed, gazes fastened.

When your efforts were exhausted and passions simmered, Eddie moved your underwear back, and fixed his shorts all the same. He let his lips press against your forehead, leaving a couple gentle pecks there. He let his fingers brush against your face, cradling  your cheek as his eyes fluttered to land on yours.

"That was amazing." Eddie stressed all the right syllables. "But please... never fucking do that again."

You were too stunned to respond. Frozen now in complete confusion. Luckily, he had more to say.

"If you won't let me really love you, I can't do what we just did again. Because I'm already dangerously close to really loving you. And it would suck to have my feelings fucked around with. I understand if you aren't willing to open up. But please understand that's where we're very different." Eddie chose his words carefully and watched your eyes as he explained himself.

"O- okay." You managed to nod. "Yeah, I hear you." It was a reasonable explanation, an understandable stance. But you felt that familiar pit opened up inside you while he spoke. And it felt more empty and hollow than ever.

Despite that, you tried to cling to the fact that you'd just had the pleasure of shagging the guy, and how divine it was to feel him pull you closer the whole time. You reveled in Eddie's kindness as he helped you out of the hot tub. He guided you inside and upstairs and insisted you be the first to use the one shared bathroom. You knew this was going to be a weird year. But it kept getting weirder.

///

The next morning, you woke just before the sun. With quiet steps, you readied yourself in the loo and headed downstairs, out the door. Desperate for the freedom of normalcy, you started walking in the direction of the shops Brooke had left directions too. After a couple blocks, a variety of bodegas came into view. There were hardly any cars or bikes on the street, and only a few pedestrians popping from one shop to the next.

This was perfect. If there was any commotion over your presence here, it would likely be very minimal. A stall selling fresh fruit and veg was being opened by an older gentleman as you admired a cart full of flowers a foot away. Some store fronts were still closed as the early morning was still new. But the handful you slinked in and out of were open and occupied by people who were more or less unphased by you. A few whispers and pointed fingers among friends, and stares and smiles from clerks was perfectly tolerable. You offered them smiles and waves as you admired locally made clothes and lotions and oils.

But men with cameras waited outside, word spreading fast that you'd made your way into town. There weren't many photographers, thank God, maybe five. And they were respectful as could be, calling your name and welcoming you to the island. You gave them rushed acknowledgement and waved them off when they demanded to know where Eddie was. They didn't need to know he was sleeping soundly in the spare room of your shared bungalow. But they could watch as you decided to buy fresh produce from the little local man at the edge of the hamlet. A nice big breakfast sounded nice.

As you thanked the vendor and made your way to head home, the men with cameras began to follow your footsteps. You dreaded having to beg them away. But this time, you didn't have to. The vendor who'd sold you a canvas bag full of produce shouted ardently enough to get the paparazzi to stay back and let you be on your way. You knew you'd love it here. You knew it would be hard to go back to L.A. but you didn't have to yet. The only thing on your agenda was to make breakfast.

Eddie was already in the kitchen when you'd walked back. You could tell from the sound of a mug rattling against the counterspace and the drip of the coffee machine. He rolled his shoulders to adjust to the morning as you carried your fresh food into the little room.

"I popped to the shops! It was sort of nice. There were only a few paps out."

"Did they bother you?" Eddie seemed to worry, locking a puzzled gaze on you before peeking in on what groceries you brought home.

"Almost. But a nice older shop owner shooed them off from following me home. I really like it here." You lamented, not taking a single moment for granted. Soaking up the sights and sounds of the kitchen as you opened the white chipped cupboards, catching glances of the ocean out the window. You announced your intentions to make breakfast and Eddie hummed past his coffee. He stayed quiet afterward, lingering as you mucked about with pots and cutting boards.

The room was full of quiet tension again. Not like something ominous was near happening. Just the weight of the obvious being unspoken. You knew Eddie liked you more than he should. And you both knew you couldn't let yourself feel the same. Knowing all this, you went on slicing tomatoes. And turning on the radio. And switching stations when one of your songs came on.

The rest of the trip was spent in quiet; shared meals and movie marathons on one particular rainy afternoon. Small conversations and one last wordless jam session.

You were really going to miss it here.

///

L.A. 1986 -

It was Eddie's debuted at the Roxy, the first of a string of already sold-out shows. He asked you to perform with him to kick things off.

Backstage, you hesitantly watched his bandmates pour him several shots. You helped him decide what to wear and let him give you a sloppy kiss in front of a reporter. His tongue jammed toward your throat, his hands splayed against your hips, and he continued even after the snaps from the camera ended. Then, when the room got a little quieter, and when you were starting to lose feeling in your lips, Eddie pulled away and murmured something in your ear.

"Felt like a real kiss. Wish it was. Wish you'd really wanna be my girl." His words slurred. He was clearly already inebriated. But it wasn't like he was wasted. The words shot a thousand feelings from your heart into your nervous system, anger being the most immediately powerful. You shoved the man's shoulders to loosen his grasp on you, his face fell. The reporter's camera started clicking again.

"You're pushing your luck." You warned. He was trying to get a rise out of you, right? He was trying to get you to cause a scene for the photographer to capture, right? He was whiskey talking, right? He said your name and tried to reach for you as you blocked his advances.

"Go toward the stage." You demanded, turning the musician by the shoulders in the right direction. He protested for you to listen, but you couldn't do this right now. You couldn't imagine doing this ever. He knew you couldn't let yourself go there.

"Shut the hell up Eddie. You've got a show to put on. I'll meet you out there. Son of a bitch." You whined, shoving the musician toward the side stage as he tried to get you to wait up. But he was being introduced and the cheers from the crowd called the man to saunter toward the mic center stage.

Why the fuck did he say all that? You couldn't stop playing it over and over in your head. Why did it make your heart stop a little? You stole the bottle of whiskey from a stagehand and went to shake out your jitters in his dressing room. You had three songs until you would share the mic with Eddie. That gave you time for a drink and a half, a few vocal warmups, and a sudden costume change into suede platforms that made your toes a little less constricted.

Just as you stomped into your last boot, a stage hand came rushing over, stealing back the bottle of whiskey and pulling you toward the stage. You stormed into the spotlight where you met Eddie, playing a riff that a steady drumbeat accompanied. He started singing, staring right at you while you added harmonies you could barely hear over the cheers from the crowd. It was the single from Steel & Stone. It was a packed house, audience from stage to sidewalk outside the entry. An Eddie sized crowd. He deserved bigger yet, you thought.

The pair of you stared each other down throughout the next couple songs, and you danced next to the bass player when Eddie broke into a few guitar solos. When the last song you were meant to share ended, you bowed, thanking the people in the front row. But Eddie spoke into the mic.

"Baby, baby, wait don't leave." He sing-songed, stopping your exit with a breathy plea. "No, not yet. She's about to leave for three months ya'll." Eddie addressed the audience who awed in commiseration. The fuck was this about? A public display of sorrow so the nearest magazine reporter could write in that Eddie seemed to really adore his wife in the middle of the review for this show?

"Why don't you sing one more song. Just you. Just for me. Before you go." Eddie looked at you, his voice echoing from the stage to the back of the venue. The crowd applauded the idea and you paused in consideration. You rarely passed up the opportunity to preform, but this was Eddies' show. You decided since he was giving you puppy dog eyes, and a room full of a few hundred were chanting for you to do it, you would.

"Okay but it's gonna be one of your songs, got it? You gotta come see me on tour if you want one of mine." You took the mic, and as he stepped away Eddie smiled and said "Deal."

You picked your favorite Corroded Coffin number and the band behind you knew exactly where to jump in almost right away. Eddies music was heavy and hard to sing, but you'd gotten pretty good at it, putting on fake concerts on the patio of that little Hawaiian bungalow.

You sang your heart out, you sang for Eddie like he'd asked. He played toward the left of the stage, mesmerized by your every move. The number ended with the thrash of a few cymbals and the crowd going wild. As you backed away from the mic, Eddie came toward you. You met him halfway, planted a kiss on his lips for show, but also partly for revenge's sake. You hoped the gesture would leave him as frustratedly guessing as his left you.

///

LAX 1986 -

"We land in Ireland, I'll play two shows. Then it's Glasgow, Manchester, London, and then France. You're coming to Paris, right?" You listed off the first half of your European leg as Eddie matched the pace you set; a steady march down the tarmac of the airport. He had an arm tossed over your shoulder for show, and his head bent in to hear you better as you spoke up past the roar of the jet you approached. Beyond the aircraft were a roped off coral of press and fans who'd gathered to see you off. Their shouts didn't make conversation any easier. But their smiles when you offered a gentle wave settled the usual despair in the pit of your stomach.

"Yes, three weeks from today, I'll be seeing you again in the most romantic city of all." Eddie grinned as you stalled to face him. 

"I hope your Roxy gigs stay sold out. You can call me to brag about em if you'd like." You smiled up to the guy, admiring his hair that moved with the gentle morning breeze. You'd miss his companionship. You'd grown quite fond of having a friend nearby, despite being almost strictly business partners. That's all this was, you reminded yourself.

"I'll take you up on that offer. You better call me at least when you make it safely overseas. And anytime at all, if you want." Eddie grinned at the same time he let a hand smooth the back of your hair. His fingers settled loosely at the base of your neck to pull you close for a kiss to the forehead, for show, you reckoned. Eddie insisted on walking you onboard the flight and you took the time to introduce him to the band you'd be traveling with. 

Izzy, the bassist, had only ever played on Neil Young's tours. The guy was excited for a change of pace, touring with you. Ambrose the guitarist was new to the scene but a damn fine player. He'd seemed to keep almost totally to himself. Your drummer was called Zed. He asked Eddie for a spare cigarette and informed you he'd brought snacks for the plane ride. Everyone was nice enough, but your nerves stood on end when you realized you were about to be far from home with a bunch of practical strangers and your vile ass manager to boot.

"I'll call you right when we land." You nodded to Eddie, who lingered near the exit of the jet. But it was less because he'd asked you to call, and more now because you knew you'd be a little desperate to hear a familiar voice as soon as you'd be able too. But Eddie didn't need to know that. 

///

Ireland was beautiful. You hadn't quiet found a friend in any of your new band mates by then. But since Kelsey was busy managing a whole new team of people, his pressures never quiet landed on you, those first few days. You knew the steps to take around that maniac of a man. What to say and withhold to keep from setting the manager off. So, things seemed to be going well.

You told Eddie as much when you rang him the next three nights in a row, and laughed as he told you a story of his recent invitation to lunch with the Osbornes. Eddie had a newer, wilder story every night. And you swore you slept better when he wished you well at the end of every chat.

You were hopeful for this tour. The first few shows flew by with ease. You'd hardly had many kinks to work out with the new band. You were able to keep to yourself. You were treated like royalty by every villa foreman, wait staff member and venue manager.

But on the ride from Manchester to London, something shifted. You wanted to blame the dreary weather. You wanted to blame end of the fortnight fatigue. But a gnawing deep in the pit of your core warned you that something was simply not right. You mulled over telling Eddie. Calling him to ask if he thought you might be going crazy. If he believed in the power of premonitions. You didn't feel like you could ask that same question to Ambrose or Izzy. They'd hardly given you the time of day, off stage. Maybe you'd try with Zed, who'd offered you countless snacks and played a couple heated rounds of eye spy with you from city to city. But what if your desire for a deeper connection scared off the one potential friend you had in your drummer? What if asking Eddie if he thought you were going crazy made him realize you probably were, and he couldn't even pretend to be your friend anymore, let alone your lover? Why were you letting yourself care?

"Practicing telekinesis?" Zed interrupted your internal downward spiral by plopping down at your side on the aisle seat of the plane. "You've been staring a hole through this page of Rolling Stone for at least a half hour."

"Oh, hi." You huffed a laugh, shutting the magazine you'd forgotten was open in your lap. "Just thinking." You sighed, settling deeper into your chair. 

"Don't let Kelsey know." Zed scoffed. "It's his ideas or nothing around here isn't it? Why does he have to kill the vibe so bad?" 

"I hope he isn't starting his bullshit already. This tour has been fine! He just has this sick desire for things to go his way, whether they're going well or not."

"We're in for a looong tour, then, huh?" Zed rolled his eyes and stole the magazine you'd shut. Whether or not anyone around you believed in the power of intuition, you knew something bad was coming.

///

The phone line buzzed and buzzed. Almost to the same beat as a drip of rainwater from your balcony doorway. The streets of London sounded frenzied even from far off. You were about to let out your held breath and hang up when someone finally answered.

"Hellooooo?" A high pitched greeting came across the other line. Certainly not the tone you'd been expecting to hear. Another wave of trepidation dawned in your gut. But instead of admitting to yourself that much, you decided to match the girl's inflection. 

"Hiiii." You wickedly grinned, hoping what you said next would wash the girl over with the same unease. "This is Eddie's wife. I'm sure he has a minute to spare."

"Oh." The girls pitch shifted immediately as the receiver became muffled. Only seconds passed before the person you were calling finally picked up. 

"You just scared the shit out of her." Eddie chuckled. "It's not funny but it's... it's a little funny."

"I'm cracking up." You rolled your eyes. "Listen is there any way you can book a flight a day early for Paris?"

"Nice to hear from you too. Geeze, what's got you sounding so serious and scary?" 

"This tour!" You snapped, but followed with a groan. "I'm sorry I just- I need a night off or something." 

"I hear you." Eddie seemed to understand. "I'm sure I can catch a flight for tomorrow. What's the occasion?" 

"Kelsey is booking a couple press things and demanding I get you to be a part of some of them." You twisted the phone cord around your index finger and rolled your eyes again, imagining the girl that answered the phone throwing herself back into Eddie's bed. 

"Yeah, Brooke can make anything happen. I'll have her get me out there by tomorrow night. Plus the press keeps doing us wonders. You've seen last weeks write ups, calling you and me rock and roll royalty, right?" Eddie smiled; you could hear it in his voice.

"Yeah," You began. "And we've all seen this morning's Star headline. How is making out with three different girls in front of the entire Rainbow Room supposed to keep you and me a happy couple in the headlines? You gotta be more careful Eddie." You ranted, more pissed than you ought to have been about other women taking up Eddie's time and space. 

"Wait, last night- that's a headline?" Eddie's tone sounded grave. "Shit. I- I'm sorry. I was drinking and..."

"Forgot." You realized, finishing his sentence. "So should I call your babysitter Brooke instead? Should I expect you not to remember this conversation?"

"Listen I don't know what's got you so agitated over there. But can you not take it out on me? I will see you tomorrow. And I will figure out a way to convince the press there are no issues. I can clean up my own messes, remember?" 

"Got it. Sorry. Bye." You finalized, slamming the phone down with a heavy exhale. Right on cue, Kelsey was in your doorway, yelling about how you were going to be late to sound check if you weren't standing up and running toward the limo right then and there. You were thirty minutes ahead of schedule. But still somehow, your manager threatened to grab ahold of you if you weren't speed walking ahead of him in the next ten seconds.

Zed and Izzy appeared, rushing ahead of the rest of the band, cursing at Kelsey, demanding he lay off. But you're already hurrying to shut up his rage.

///

France 1986 -

After a break of dawn radio interview, Kelsey rushed you along to a high-end cafe where supposedly a reporter from Europe's most renowned pop culture magazine was waiting for a one on one with you. Your manager certainly knew his was around keeping you relevant but didn't seem to care if his efforts exhausted you or not. You blinked away thoughts of a nap, straightened the ripped-up suit jacket you wore over tights, and struggled not to stop in your tracks when you glanced up to a booth to find Eddie there.

He looked sleepy as you, hair all mused, ripped up Led Zeppelin tee straining against his fit figure. Eddie said he'd make it, you weren't shocked he had. But you were alarmed, more or less, by how he lit up when he saw you. And how at ease that made your entire being feel. Wishes of nap time and bubble bath breaks didn't seem as pressing any longer. You were relaxed in Eddies presence, and he hadn't even said hello. And that really freaked you out. You needed to get a fucking grip.

Brooke popped into frame too, walking up to great you with a smile and a hug. She complimented your makeup and turned to inform Kelsey the reporter was on her way inside. You gravitated toward the man waiting in the raised up booth, grinning as he smiled broadly your way. 

"I told you I'd make it in time." Eddie sing songed, holding out an arm as you slid in the booth at his side. The guy pressed his ring clad hand to one side of your head and his lips to the other.

"Thank you." You rose a brow and nodded his way. "We're being interviewed together it seems. I'm sure our managers arranged this for a reason. I'm sure they'll ask about those photos with the girls you were out with. Should we get our story straight?"

"I think I have the right words ready. Anyway, since this whole thing is based on a lie, I think it's best we stay as honest as possible about everything else... avoid digging ourselves into too deep a hole." Eddie reasoned. 

"Well, it's not totally based on a lie, it's not like-" You began to argue back, a little too desperate to mention that you liked Eddie enough to agree to this whole crazy thing with him. You couldn't have imagined being falsely married to anyone else. But Kelsey interrupted you, waving a warning that the reporter was walking in, alerting you to be on your best behavior. God he was becoming more unbearable as the days dragged on. 

The reporter was an older woman, dressed drabber than you would've expected. She chain smoked as you and Eddie shared a diet soda and answered her questions with easy smiles.

"How is the tour going for you?" She pointed, locking her tired eyes with yours while you droned on about the professionalism of your bandmates and the electricity of your fan base and how much more connected to them you felt on the road.

"It's so much easier to get to know people when I'm playing for them, watching them sing along, meeting them after each show." You said. 

"It seems that's a factor you reap the rewards of as well, Mr. Munson. You're aware that photos of you romancing a couple of fans have been spread across every major tabloid, no?"

Between the reporter's question, and Eddies deep breath in, you felt Kelsey's gaze like a dagger. And your mouth started moving before your brain stopped you otherwise. 

"Of course he's aware.  This is the lifestyle we each chose." You hurried to end this part of the conversation you'd been dreading.

"So, is that to say you've had these same sort of affairs?"

"That's to say that Eddie and I are happily married to each other. What happens with anyone else is irrelevant to us and should be irrelevant to the rest of the world as well."

You hoped your answer would put an end to this segment of questions as you firmly glanced to  Eddie, who sat clenching his jaw. He feigned a smile right on queue, when the next question targeted his way was about how his shows were going. The interview didn't last much longer before a photographer was introduced. The man led you and Eddie toward the back garden of the cafe where you posed for a shockingly small amount of photos for the magazines cover. Eddie kept his bejeweled fingers curled at your side as you settled in his lap. You gazed down at him and searched his dark eyes, hoping he was less mad at you than he obviously was just moments ago. If he was, he played it off well, planting a kiss on your cheek as you looked back toward the flashing camera. 

When the people from the magazine shook your hands and headed to leave, Kelsey bought lunch for you, Eddie and Brooke. When the managers when inside to order, Eddie pulled out a cigarette and slouched in the chair you rose from, suddenly desperate to get off his lap.

"Why did you speak for me? I was ready to own up to that shit. I was ready to say all the right things." Eddie waved a hand and let his head hang back as he breathed out smoke.

"And I'm sure you would have. But the world doesn't care about why a man cheats on his woman. They care about how the woman feels about it. And so long as they know I don't give a shit then we stay happily married. Isn't that the point of all of this? To stay happy and get this all over with as soon as possible?" You paced as you answered, stalling with a sigh at Eddies side. But you weren't done rambling...

"Can we just forget about it? That photoshoot is gonna be killer and the fact that we're being seen together after your little tryst is gonna change everyone's minds. We're doing the right things. Can we please just not worry about it anymore? I've got enough to worry about out here."

Eddie sat up and looked at you with what you hoped was concern but worried was something closer to appalment. But then he took another drag and started to nod.

"I guess I see where you're coming from." Eddie seemed to choose his words carefully. After a few more puffs he spoked once more, changing the subject. "Can I take you out after the show? Have a little fun? You're too wound up."

You looked to him and nodded, trying not to give away how much of a thrill it really was to you that he was asking this sort of thing. This tour had your emotions all frazzled and confused, damn it. You really did need a night out.

///

You put on a badass show that night. When you weren't signing to the front row, or screaming toward the sky, you were glancing to the side of the stage where Eddie stood watching. He was all smiles, clapping and mouthing encouragement you couldn't quite read but felt the well-meaning of from centre stage. Kelsey was even bearable, clapping your back when it was all said and done, finding someone else's throat to jump down for the evening. This made it easy for Eddie to sweep you away, out for a night of good old fashioned fun.

You wound up in some burlesque pub, accepting free shots and signing your autograph on dinner napkins for a dozen scantily clad dancers. 

"I'll have a rum and coke." Eddie shrugged to a waiter, as a crowd of strangers clamored closer to the booth you'd occupied with your alleged man. 

"Is that a good idea?" You asked, careful of your intonation. Worried only a little about Eddie finding annoyance in your question. Worried more by the idea of him with alcohol. 

"I promise to handle my liquor tonight. Only drinking to celebrate the kick ass show you just put on. Hard to come down from that high and I wasn't even on stage, babe!" Eddie excused his drinking, and made you feel valuable in one suave sentence. 

"Well thanks," You nodded decidedly, flagging down someone to mix you a mojito. "One drink." You hopped Eddie would echo your number, agree to the limit. But he changed the subject as if he hadn't even heard the past few words you spoke at all. 

"You sounded so fucking good tonight. What warm up's are you doing to keep your screams so effortless? I'm always exhausted halfway through a set. Would never be able to tell if you were or not." 

"You're full of compliments tonight." You rose a brow, speaking loud, you realized. Even though Eddie leaned in close the club was still pounding with bass and drum and crowd buzz. 

"Well, I mean them." Eddie smiled. He let his eyes fall across the features of your face. He ordered another drink. Another rum and coke. He said he was following your one drink rule by not ordering something different. You couldn't help but scoff a laugh and go with the flow, not wanting the night spent by his side to sour or end. Eddie drank and laughed his way through a story about his bandmates high school prom date. He asked you where you grew up. He listened while you yammered on all the same. 

And sometime between your fifth mojito, a foreigner was handing you a microphone. You didn't know quite how you wound up being dragged toward the little club stage to sing Don't Go Breaking My Heart with a man in a pristinely applied wig and bright make up. You never saw Eddie find his way toward the front of the venue either. But when you glanced out to find him laughing and cheering along in a little wicker chair, you'd felt something in your soul settle. You felt your smile grow. You felt a reason to keep singing.

When your surprise performance ended and your once in a lifetime duet partner sent you off the stage with a kiss on the cheek, Eddie stayed sat in his chair near the stage. But he'd held his arms out wide, and you didn't think twice about falling into his lap like you'd never belonged any place else.  Eddies lap was warm. His arms enclosed your waist securely. His lips pressed a couple of kisses to your shoulder as you leaned back into him. You needed this. You'd been longing for comfort. For a care. A very drunken part of you was even beginning to consider calling it love. But the other well trained half of your nervous system shut out that blossoming idea. 

Still, you let yourself enjoy whatever spell you were under in that little burlesque club. You sat in Eddie's lap and let him hold you while a few other performers came and went. And just before last call, Eddie nudged you from your perch and decided your night was over easily as he'd decided on making it happen for you all those hours ago.

"Thanks for that. It was fun to get out, break free from a schedule." You mentioned, walking alongside the guy. Your hotel was only two blocks away, and no one was out, with cameras or otherwise.

"Of course. I needed it too. Nothings is as fun with anyone but you these days." Eddie said, slinging an arm around your shoulder as he matched your pace along the pavement. 

"Easy now. Don't have to keep wooing me. No one is watching anymore." You teased, ignoring the sinking in your stomach. Ignoring those dangerous thoughts that had started to bubble in your mind back at the club. 

"I know." Eddie replied, softly yet surely. 

His arm stayed firm across your shoulder as he went on to joke about something that the waiter had said earlier. You laughed and rambled on down the block until your hotel came into view around a certain corner. In the glow that illuminated from inside out, stood a small gathering of your fans. Four or five friends who all danced a little at the sight of you approaching, waving your records and posters in their clutch. 

"Well hello everyone." You chuckled, moving with more intention, closer to the group and out of Eddies grasp. Without a second thought you started signing albums and listening to pairs of friends tell you how much your music meant to them. You relished being able to hear their stories, to be able to connect with people who gave a fuck about you for longer than a second outside busy airport gates and vip green room meet ups.

One of the meeker girls, to your surprise, caught the attention of the man who'd been hanging back, watching with a grin as you shone.

"Eddie, can I have your autograph too?"

"Ah, you don't want mine, do you? We'd all much rather have hers." Eddie sauntered closer to the group, eyes steady on your form, you realized, when you turned to smile at him. "In fact, I'm still waiting on one myself."

The pit that usually felt like a void in your gut seemed to fill with butterflies and ocean waves then. It was getting hard to ignore the fact that you liked this man more than a little. After saying pleasant goodnights and farewells to the small group of your admirers, Eddie walked you up to your room. He did not reach out an arm across your shoulder. He did not even brush his arm against yours the whole journey seventeen stories up. The absence of touch felt heavy and hurtful.

And when you stood lingering in the doorway of your room after asking if he would come inside, he shook his head. Funny how quickly agony replaced excitement. Funny how you'd only moments ago marveled over how close enough he was to touch. How you now despised the space between you entirely.

Eddie only shoved his closed fists into his leather pockets and let his unsteady focus bounce between either of your eye's.

"You know I want to. And you know why I won't." Eddie said.

"Well..." You tried like mad to get out what you wanted to say. But you weren't even sure how you were really feeling let alone able to express that much. Your pause was too long. Eddie pressed a divine kiss to your hairline, finally closing the space in between you, but tragically ending the time you'd got to spend with him. Eddie slinked off and around the corner, out of sight, hardly out of mind. 

The hall got quiet. Your heart felt loud. Must've meant bedtime.

///

A couple weeks passed by without hearing from Eddie at all. A couple weeks had passed since you'd heard from anyone but Kelsey, constantly screaming in your ear, waking you up, rushing you to sound checks, telling you to throw away breakfast because there was no time to eat it.

When the phone in your latest hotel room rang after a much-needed hour long bath, you ran to answer after its first clatter.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Brooke. Do you have a minute?"

Oh, how curious. The pit in your stomach buzzed with worry as your brain collected a million reasons for Eddie's managers phone call.

"I should, yeah. How are you, Brooke?"

"I'm okay. Eddie isn't. Last night he caused a bit of a scene on stage at the Roxy, he was so drunk he could barely remember the words let alone sing them. This morning, I found him hanging out of the back of his limo, almost passed out on the side street of the Troubadour. He asked me to drive him back to rehab. He wanted you to know before you found out through the news."

You let out a long sigh. Frustrated. Worried. Confused. Brooke went on to leave you an address to write to, saying he'd asked you too.

So, after hanging up you didn't waste any time pulling out the hotel's free stationary, scribing one really long letter. You wrote about how the tour felt like hell and how you couldn't wait to be home. You wrote about how proud of Eddie you were for seeking help and taking time for himself. And you dreamed of doing the same, asking him to tell you any and everything he would be comfortable sharing.

That afternoon you left the letter in Kelsey's grasp, asking the manager to mail it. The next few days, a cycle was born. Wake up. Write Eddie, leave the letter with Kelsey, sing a bunch of songs.

Then your drummer came knocking on your door.

"Do you plan on writing Eddie anymore letters?" Zed wondered, curiously. You didn't think much of it, he'd probably seen you leaving the envelopes with your manager.

"Yeah." You shrugged.

"Well, I found a stack of them in Kelsey's room. He hasn't mailed any. So, I gave them to the front desk of the hotel to send out this morning. I hope that's okay?" Zed went on to explain that he'd figured you'd want them sent as soon as possible, hoping he hadn't crossed an odd boundary. The pit in your stomach threatened to swallow you hole. The thought of Eddie sitting in rehab, wondering if you were going to send letters like he asked, receiving nothing. You worried at the thought of letting him down, even though you'd never intended to.

"Fuck man. Thank you, Zed." You grumbled some curses against your manager and thanked your drummer a few dozen times for sending the post and letting you know what you should've known better about, you guessed. Like he'd sensed you talking shit, Kelsey slinked in the room soon after, asking you to get a move on. But you'd been ready to go. Moving faster to get the sorry excuse of a man away from your sight.

"See how much nicer things go when you don't piss me off?" Kelsey called across the hall. You begged to differ.

///

On the way to the next gig, you heard a familiar tune on the radio. Lyrics you'd written. A riff of your bass players on creation. Prince's vocals mysteriously added to the mix.

"Why is Prince singing my song?" You turned to your band who were all equally as befuddled as you, stammering different 'I don't know's.'

The from the edge of the limo came the voice you dreaded hearing most.

"Sold it. He heard it in the booth and offered you a few million for the rights. I said yes." Kelsey huffed past a cigar.

"You sold my song to-" You began to see red when the ride stopped and your manager interrupted you, pushing you to get out and onto the stage. Your band couldn't help. They were being corralled all the same. Was this life even yours anymore? It seemed every move you made was orchestrated and modified by the manager you'd mistakenly given too much power too.

By then, the refuge you found on stage began to feel like the same old trap. Kelsey started deciding your set lists. And the first night of three at Maddison square garden, your first stop of the USA leg of the tour; you changed up what had been written down on a whim. Because the crowd was chanting for a number from your very first album. And who were you to deny them that?

Apparently, according to your manager, the devil incarnate. 

Kelsey lost his shit on you in the limo on the way to CBGBS, all for changing the fucking setlist. Your fucking setlist. Zed, bless him, tried to speak up in defense of the situation. But his arguments were shut down soon as Kelsey could form a word.

Thank God the club was in sight.

///

CBGB's 1986 -

Lou Reed gave your drummer a little blue pill. Zed said he felt free for the first time maybe ever. You found this out after the guy stole another little blue pill for you. It went down well with whiskey. Then Kelsey started to kill your buzz, being all charming and nice in front of strangers. And that was the most upsetting part of all. Because he was such a dick. And you hated to see anyone believing otherwise.

And because he couldn't help but pick apart your every move, he tried to stop you from ordering a sixth vodka.

"You've made my life hell. This is the only way to cope." You pointed.

"I've made you rich and famous, dear, you may be drunk but you're not that stupid." Kelsey droned in that stupid fucking accent.

"You sold my song to fucking Prince! You didn't even tell me. God knows you'd never ask first but you didn't even mention it! Where is the money for that transaction, huh? Already snuffed up your nose?"

"Maybe." Kelsey boasted, snatching your vodka from your grasp.

"You change my set lists. You deny me meals. You force me to fall in love with a man to make the press happy, to keep your name fucking shinny!" You were seething as you yanked back the glass and chucked it to the ground, glass shattering at your feet. Kelsey only chuckled, a dark low rumble that opened the pit in your stomach where fear and rage lived.

"I only told you to stay married to him darlin', you didn't have to suck him off and pout as he left, that's your own idiocy." Your manager loomed over you, his smoke scented breath blowing in your face. You were jabbing a finger into his chest and calling him a bloodsucking cunt as his smile twisted into a snarl.

By that point Ambrose and Izzy were pulling you and Kelsey back from each other. You yelled for your bassist to let you go, to let you keep calling out your manager for all the shit he kept pulling.

"You know that's a really bad idea. Go find Zed. He's been looking for you." Izzy's hold on you was barely a grasp but you still yanked your arms away, pissed. You grumbled away from the tension filled situation and pushed passed the crowd cheering on Blondie to find your drummer leaned against the back wall, all buddy buddy with Lou Reed, by then.

"Perfect timing, Mrs. Munson. I was just going to invite you and your drummer here to the Chealsea." Your ears rang as Lou Reed waved you and Zed along. On your walk behind the bleach blonde songwriter, your drummer revealed he'd been gifted a whole giant bottle of those little blue pills for the pair of you to survive off of the rest of the tour. Anything to dull the ache.

///

Chealsea Hotel 1986 -

The clock on the dimly lit hallway wall read four in the morning. There was a faint yet ever-present ringing in your ear. There were people packed into every room on this floor, bodies were scattered through the halls, waiting their turn for entry to a room. Or impatiently having a go at each other between potted plants and elevator doors. Someone grabbed you, they were crying and saying they loved you. They were begging you to sing a song as you shrugged them off and told them maybe next time.

"Too many people." You suddenly realized, gripping onto your drummer's forearm. He stalled and turned back to understand what you were saying. Lou Reed was long gone, had been since you'd arrived here however long ago.

You announced that you were headed down to the lobby and began stepping through the maze of strangers, breathing in their smoke and wondering how time was moving so fast. Had thirty minutes really already passed on your journey through this weird gathering?

Down at the front desk, workers smiles were wide as you glided up to the counter. If anyone was ahead of you, you'd cut them. Maybe they had let you. They usually did.

"Do you have any available rooms?" You smiled hopefully. For you, surely they would. For you, they had too. You couldn't be sure you could get back to the place Kelsey had you staying at. And you were in desperate need of some space that didn't feel completely suffocated by responsibility. The women at the front desk told you there were opening but none of the more accommodating rooms for guests as elite as yourself were available. You assured her you didn't care if it was a closet with pillows for a bed so long as you had a place to crash. With in minutes you were being handed a room key.

On your way to the tenth floor, Zed appeared again, this time with company. Ambrose and Kelsey were having a spat, and your drummer was being cornered with his hands up. You saw your guitarist notice you and that was enough to send you sprinting past them to get to the room you booked. Your manager started to call after you, demanding you stop. But you were too quick. You locked yourself into a perfectly adequate room, with a bed, a balcony and a small additional bathroom. This was more than enough. But it wasn't long before your crew was pounding at the door.

"You can't stay here. I've got two entire floors of the Marriot booked just for you, your royal fucking highness." Kelsey spat on the other side of the wooden door.

"Stop fucking talking to me like that!" You hollered back, unzipping your boots and tossing them against the door. God you could really go for another one of those little blue pills.

"Come on, please let's just go." You heard Ambrose whine like an impatient kid brother.

"Fuck you too!" You called back, angry that everyone surrounding you went along with Kelsey's bullshit. You knew they had to, to survive. But you were ready to start fighting against it. You heard the men bickering beyond your seclusion, Kelsey yelling at Zed to have a go at demanding you leave the room. He argued back that he wasn't going to beat on the door like a maniac, but he would try and talk to you like a human being, if they so insisted. His knock was polite. He had more of those little blue pills. You let him in.

Your drummer eased into the room as you slammed the door in the other's faces. That didn't stop your manager from shouting still, demanding you and Zed leave right that moment. Demanding Zed better not be a fucking idiot and just drag you out of there. Your drummer only shook his head and rose a hand to nudge you away from the door you stood seething in front of. He guided you to the far corner of the bed closest to the balcony. He opened the doors, letting in fresh autumn air.

"Don't listen to them." He said in a hush, hunkering down at your side, hands clasped between his knees.

"Well, aren't you gonna try and talk me out of here?"

"No. I think if we stay quiet, they'll leave. And maybe we can have one night of fucking peace." Zed laughed hopelessly as one of them conditioned to pound on the locked door. You sat, biting back tears.

"You're the only one who has checked up on me this whole time. I know the others don't want to cross Kelsey. But none of the rest of the band has even like, said good morning to me. Or sat next to me at lunch. Izzy will share lyrics on plane rides. Ambrose will thank me for rolling up his joints. But then they fuck off to the green room or the dinning hall with all the groupies. I've never expected us all to be best fucking buddies. But I've never felt so alone Zed."

You vented, choking back the ever-growing lump in your throat. Your drummer unclasped his hand and placed his palm on your knee as he shook his low hung head.

"And," You went on, unable to stop now that your expression had started. "Eddie can't call. He's in rehab. Even if he wasn't it's not like we're really married."

"What?" Zed turned, confused.

"Eddie's getting sober somewhere in the middle of nowhere California. And our marriage is a lie. Kelsey made us sign a contract. We're not married. It's all for show. My whole fucking career is all for show at this point. I'm Kelsey's little puppet and every time I try to cut the strings, I just end up tangled up in them."

"He's such a fucking devil." Zed frowned. "Once this tour is over..." You watched your drummer search for his next words. "I don't even know. But none of us should let him keep this shit up."

The banging at the door started again. Zed held a finger to his lips, stopping you from speaking. After a moment in the faintest whisper, you could muster you asked your drummer for another one of those pills from Lou Reed.

He pulled the bottle from his brown leather coat, and portioned you out two. You started to reach for both when he quirked a brow.

"Sorry." You grinned, guilty. Zed took the other pill and his jacket off, tossing the garment and the bottle to the corner.

"So, is that why Eddie has been so sloppy with being seen with so many girls, last month? You two really aren't a thing at all?"

"I guess." You sighed. "I thought we were something. I think he's, bare minimum, a friend. But everything else is just for show." You realized, recalling the tabloids recent write up about Eddies much too public fling with a girl from the crowd of his latest concert. You couldn't pretend that didn't hurt.

"I feel like no one is on my side." You struggled to hide the tears that pooled in your eyes, desperate for what you took to kick in already.

"Well, I'm here, aren't I?" He seemed concerned about however you may answer. And you realized that he was here. And that he did care. And that despite being caught up in the same bullshit as you, he was giving you all the space and time to talk about it.

You leaned in, sniffling back your crocodile tears as that faint ringing in your ears began to grow a little miraculously louder. You hugged your drummer and thanked him for listening and sitting in here and for not talking you out of going anywhere else. He let a calloused hand pet back your hair and reminded you that he was hiding away all the same. Trauma bonding.

"Can I say something?" Zed asked as you pulled away. You nodded.

"I kind of want to kiss you. But not like out of love. I think it's the pills. And the pent-up stress. And the fact that you get it. And I trust you." He shrugged and you took in every word. "Do you want me to leave now? I know that's probably the last thing you-"

"No, it's okay." You insisted, reaching out to rest a hand on the guy's thigh. He let his brow push together. His silvery eyes studied yours. He wasn't your type at all. Shaggy blonde, too toned drummer. But he was a good friend. And that was more than you could ask for at this point. "Wanna blow off some steam?"

"Seeing as how you're not actually married, I'm okay with it." Zed laughed a little, letting you be the one to make the first move. You kissed him and blocked out every thought that popped up of Eddie, and every wish that you were desperate to be kissing him instead.

Zed was warm and patient and really good with his hands. He asked over and over if what you were doing was okay. He fucked you three times by the time the clock read six in the morning. Then he helped you get dressed and turned over to give you space to sleep beside him in the full-sized mattress.

Your early morning freedom was interrupted by lunch time when Kelsey boomed at the door. He gave the pair of you a scolding through his teeth as you passed through the Chealsea, and really reamed into the pair of you on the limo ride to the tour bus. You'd be traveling to New Jersey, down to North Carolina, then down to Georgia and Florida, back up and across most the states from there. It was a daunting schedule to look ahead to after traveling so much of Europe already. And to know you weren't able to enjoy any of it at all, being under such restrictive control.

///

The next four shows were a blur. You were taking a trio of those little blue pills before every sound check. Whatever your manager shouted in your ear went out the other until the next day. You let time pass you by as you left your heart and soul on stage, using each show as some kind of therapy, best you could. And somehow, without discussing it at all, you and Zed had made a habit out of sneaking into each other's rooms each night. You used each other's sex to pacify the horrors of the tour. And that much you discussed. It was mutually agreed that no feelings could be born from the habit, and if they were it would have to stop. Your hook ups were strictly medicinal. Zed was your supplier, after all.

Ambrose caught on, and so had the others, you were certain. But your guitarist had spotted you in Zeds room one late night when he'd come knocking in search of some cocaine.

"Really, you two? How does Mr. Munson feel about that?"

"I'm sure you'd like to know. Get the fuck out of here." Your drummer slammed the door in his face. But his question haunted you for days after he asked. How would Eddie feel? Would he care at all? Would he be glad you found someone to bone after trying to shag him a time or two to no avail? Would he be pissed you were being sloppy? Would he be pissed if you accused him of being sloppy too? Would he be pissed if he knew how much you missed him?

And God how you really missed Eddie. How you hated catching glimpses of your fake ass wedding ring. How you wished you'd never left Hawaii.

///

Chicago 1986 -

The crowd stretched for miles; the open green field packed with fans far as the eye could see. The wind was welcome as its chill cooled you from the heat of the stage lights. The show was going as well as it could. Your band was in sync. You didn't even mind how Kelsey had organized the set list. Something was bound to piss you off soon, since nothing had yet. You considered this as you ran off stage during Ambrose' guitar solo, reaching for a bottle of water and a shot of something stronger.

Then the unthinkable. It was like the first time you met. You looked up and Eddie Munson was standing before you, eyes a little clearer than ever, hair longer too.

"You're looking good out there!" He smiled and shouted past the music.

"Eddie?" You grinned, baffled by his very sudden and unexpected appearance. Before he could explain himself, Kelsey nudged his way between the pair of you.

"Good! You're here! How's about a song or two?" Your manager smiled to Eddie, whose face grew concerned.

"Oh, no. I'm just here to see my w-"

"When Ambrose runs back, he'll trade off with you. Just two songs. No better way to promote the new album!"

"This is their show, not mine. I really don't want-"

"Ambrose!" Kelsey waved as your guitarist skipped side stage after his solo. Izzy was sauntering on to take his turn in the spotlight now. "Eddie is gonna take your spot for the rest of the show."

"You said only two songs!" You rang with worry. Why was this evil Brit so dead set on causing such chaos? Kelsey looked to you with a glare, ripped the bottle of water from your hand and pushed you toward the stage before going on to force Ambrose custom flying V onto Eddie.

The ringing in your ear that those little blue pills brought on was beginning to fade away. The audiences' roars dulled your senses now. You waved at them as you hurried to tell Izzy there was a change of plans and you'd only be playing songs from the new album now. The first five tracks, then the hit single, you decided in a hurry, telling him to pass the info onto Zed.

"Okay Chicago!" You breathed into your mic. "You're about to be just as surprised as I am!"

Eddie's entrance toward center stage caused the crowd to react so loudly it felt as though an earthquake could have been coaxed from the ruckus. You caught a glimpse of Ambrose at the side of the stage, throwing a fit, before turning to cue Zed to start the next song. He'd been giving the right info, playing the beat to the song you decided. You clued Eddie in, too, before taking centre stage once more and doing the best you could to carry on this concert without having a mental break down.

It was good to see Eddie. But the pair of you had a lot left unsaid. It was a sick joke, being forced to sing the songs you wrote with him, into the same microphone now. To be looking right in his big brown eyes, to feel his exhales, to be stupidly intoxicated by his presence after months, after no contact, after feeling so abandoned and hurt, even if that wasn't entirely his fault.

The four of you played a decent show, and the sold-out festival crowd was in a frenzy by the encore. You sang with Eddie and looked right at him. He kissed your cheek as Zed dragged out the beats that ended the set. But your phantom husband had never felt further away.

There was no time to talk still as your band was corralled into separate interviews and congratulations from festival promoters. Eddie was the most sought-after entity, of course. Not only was his appearance on your set a surprise but it was the first time he'd been seen out in months since disappearing to rehab. You weren't sure what excuse he gave the press this time. You couldn't quiet hear the answers he was giving journalists now, as you rushed toward the green room showers.

You found Zed leaving there and asked him for more pills, as big a handful as he'd give you. He was hesitant, but you promised it was just so you wouldn't have to track him down for more later. The blonde was worn down, dumping a few into your palm as you hurried to get cleaned up.

You knew your time was limited in the green room's shower, and you knew the night ahead was a long one. There were three more official interviews with festival promoters to complete, and a VIP tent to make an appearance in, all while Iron Maiden played the final set of the evening. You realized, as you washed the sweat from your back, that you didn't know if Eddie would still be there when you came out of the room. Or if he'd be lingering close by the rest of the evening. Or if you two were going to have time for a real discussion. So, under stress from every angle, you broke your promise to Zed and downed the handful of pills at once.

And then you were off, dressed in a new silk slip and pre torn tights, sprinting down the hall to make it to the press tent in time. Outside, Kelsey was off in the distance, shmoozing some promoters. Izzy was flirting with Lita Ford by the craft table. And you were scurrying between tour busses as dusk started to set in. Iron Maiden hadn't yet started their set. And on the steps near your tour bus, you found the rest of your band, and Eddie, sharing beers. Oh how fucking lovely.

"You've got to be fucking joking." You stood before Eddie, seething, rage coursing through your nervous system. He knew exactly what you were on about, shifting his weight as his lithe expression turned pale. Eddie shifted his weight and kept the bottle in his grasp close to his chest. You almost couldn't believe he was choosing to be so dumb right now. Led by anger, you reached out to grab the beer from Eddie's grasp. He let you rip it from his fingers and avoided the way your eyes bore into his very being. 

The boys at his side were quiet until Ambrose let out a low whistle, mentioning that he would run and get Eddie a third drink. A third. Meaning he'd had another before now. Meaning that he was acting way dumber than you ever fathomed he was capable of.

Suddenly it was all too much. As each boy noticed watch you turn red from outrage, it was like every emotion you'd suppressed in the past handful of months broke past the seal and your world began to spin. Yeah... maybe you should have heeded Zed's worry.

"Shit." You groaned, feeling your chest tighten. You dropped the bottle, rushed past the group and grabbed at the door of your traveling home. Thank God, no one was inside. Your sprint to the loo was just in time as you began to vomit. You cried, and cursed, and got sick again and wondered why nothing felt good anymore. Even the shit that used to keep the bad feelings at bay was back firing now.

You heard the group of guys just outside the door you left swung open, wondering what just happened to you. Ambrose far off muffled voice was unmistakable, "Come on, Eddie. I'll get you more beer. Let Zed deal with her sorry ass. He's been pretty good at filling your shoes, ya know?"  

Nausea rushed over you, shutting off the rest of your senses. You stayed slumped on the little loo floor, the room was small enough that your feet stuck out into the hall. Then you heard the door shut. And the sound of heavy boots clucking toward you.

"Are you wasted?" Eddie wondered. You looked up to him, standing with his fists balled up, his fingers working nervously at each palm. His dark brows were furrowed, and his speech was ever so slightly slurred.

"Are you wasted?" You shot back, still so beyond pissed off at him.

"I told you I was a recovering fuck up. Not a fully rehabilitated one." The guy reminded with a small humorless laugh.

"Why are you here?" You whimpered, resting your head against the lid of the toilet, the latter half of your sentence, a mumble.

"I'm here to see you, why the fuck else would I be? I didn't want to play the last thirty minutes of your damn set. I wanted to see you! It's been months you know?" Eddie shot back. It had been a long set of days since you'd had the pleasure of hearing the guys voice. Why did his return have to leave you feeling so fucking awful? Why didn't you stop all this shit from playing out when you had the chance? Crumble up that dumb ass contract in front of Kelsey and everyone. If only you could've saved yourself this world of hurt.

"And whose fault is that?" You asked through a whine, feeling sick all over again.

"Don't you dare put all the blame on me. I know I fucked up. I'll own that. But you're the one who pushed me away from the beginning. You told me you didn't want a real connection with me. I was willing to actually fall in love with you. And newsflash. I am actually in love with you!" Eddie's voice was growing firmer with each word he spoke. "I'm in deep fucking disgusting love with you. And you told me you didn't want that. So, I kept my fucking distance."

"I find that hard to believe." You rang through your teeth, sitting up a little. "You told me you couldn't sleep with me again because you'd fall too much in love or whatever the fuck. That hasn't stopped you from sleeping with what, three, four groupies since I left for tour? In deep disgusting love with every single one of them, are ya?"

"Of course not." Eddie waved as if it were obvious. "Those were drunken flings. Based on lust. I was already head over heels with you when you shagged me in the hot tub. I knew I'd only fall more. And since you said you weren't looking for love I set a fucking boundary. To please you!"

"Well I do love you! I don't fucking want to, but I do! I don't want any of this shit. I don't want our bullshit marriage. I don't want to be on this fucked up tour. I want to quit this shitty fucking job, oh God-"

You caught a glimpse of Eddie's face before you started to lose your lunch all over again. His eyes were wide, his jaw was slacked, his head shook in disbelief. And then what felt like a life time passed as your body writhed in agony.

"What did you take?" Eddie demanded to know.

"I don't know." You lied.

"Bullshit! What did you fucking take?" Eddie raised his voice as you started to sob.

"Zed's pills. Please don't yell at me!" You responded past tears and waves of nausea.

"I'm sorry." Eddie heaved, and you could tell he meant it and that made you cry harder. You heard his boots stomp away as you lost your fucking mind between tears and sick. You heard the door swing open. You heard Eddie say, "Get a medic in here, you son of a bitch." And you just knew he was talking to Zed, and you imagined the poor drummer lingering worriedly near enough the bus door to be there when Eddie opened it. The dreamy eyed guitarist was back in the room and kneeling at your side to comfort you while you both waited for someone to come and help.

You started to apologize for what exactly you weren't sure yet. Eddie dismissed you and said you could talk more later tonight. And you realized that meant he was staying. And that made you feel the smallest bit better.

When the medic came, he assumed you'd already vomited up most of the pills, but insisted you to come to the emergency tent for a while. You worried instantly, knowing Kelsey would blow a gasket. The rest of the band could carry on perfectly suitable interviews without you, but you knew there'd be hell to pay. Eddie sat with you, listened to the medics with you, gave you his jacket as the night grew cold. Then he walked you toward the car that the doctors called for you, insisting you get to a bed and rest as long as you could. He slid in the other side of the cab and let you slump against his shoulder the whole ride to whatever hotel you were staying in that night.

///

As Eddie walked you toward the sanctuary that was this evening's quiet hotel suite, the elevator doors chimed down the hall.

"You fucked up tonight beyond your wildest imagination!" Your managers shouts were more irate than you'd ever heard them. But you were almost too exhausted to care. Only three steps away from your room. Stubborn still, you couldn't help but turn to fight back.

Kelsey was red faced and rambling so viciously that the assistant that had followed him up was taking a step back with apparent concern. Around this time, the elevator dinged again, revealing Izzy and a group of strangers hanging off his arm.

"This is coming out of your paycheck! Do you realize that? You can't just do whatever pleases you!" Your manager raved.

"Your threats are getting boring." You stated simply, lazy eyed, hoping your lackluster engagement to this man's tirade would sting his ego.

"It's not a threat, it's a fucking promise. Have you forgotten I control every aspect of your sorry little life?"

"Don't fucking talk to her like that man." Eddie snapped, unable to cope with this nonsense any longer.

"This conversation doesn't fucking concern you," Kelsey, red faced and practically foaming at the mouth, shoved a hand to your fake husband's chest. Eddies back hit the door of the room you'd been trying to enter with a thud. He stayed a bit stunned, letting a shocked grin grow under his furrowed brow. But your composure was lost by then. You couldn't help but to begin to lose your mind.

"You absolute twat!" You shouted; lunging toward your manager who was significantly taller and was holding a stance like a boxer who was prepared to demolish his opponent. All hell broke loose. You were barely able to land a swing to Kelsey's iron build when his assistant moved to block you from becoming more physical. Izzy had rushed to involve himself by then too, much to the shock of the friends he'd brought along- who stood at the end of the hall in awe.

"You're all bark and no bite, just like your pathetic excuse of a husband." Kelsey tried to squirm away from the way your coworkers were backing him up. Eddie was simultaneously placing the hotel room key you'd given him back in your hand and motioning you to unlock the door, distracting you from escalating the situation further.

"I know better than to swing back. We're done here." Eddie let out a huff of a humorless laugh and shrugged his shoulders back in place. You got the door open just in time and let Eddie nudge you into the room first. Kelsey's grumbled curses were drowned out when your pretend husband shut and locked the pair of you in; and a deafening silence surprised you when you were only minutes ago seeking out the refuge of quiet you knew would be here.

You stood in the middle of the room, trying to catch your breath from getting so worked up. But the adrenaline that coursed through your system raged on and the overwhelm that had dawned over you in the tour bus was still shading your every thought.

"I want to go home." You whimpered. But that's not what you really meant. You'd never felt at home in the house you'd lived in the past four years. The only place you'd ever really felt at ease was Hawaii. Was that one house. Was with Eddie. But you couldn't say all that now.

You realized you were crying again when the man on your mind was suddenly standing before you and pulling you too his chest for an embrace.

"I'm so sorry. You wrote in your letters that this tour was awful but now I see they're worse than that. We've gotta get you away from this crazy dude." Eddie soothed, letting his hand brush over the back of your hair while holding you closer with the other all the while. You sank into his embrace for a moment longer before pulling away to sniffle and speak more clearly.

"He- he has me wrapped up in so many contracts. Half of which I don't even know the full extent of because he's so tricky. I don't even know where to begin." You let out a shaky breath as Eddie listened. "He's slowly killing me. He sold my music to Prince. Did you know that? He writes my set lists. He times my meals. I'm supposed to be living the dream, but it feels much more like a nightmare." You groaned, hanging your head in your hands.

"He what?" Eddie asked, alarmed. You knew Kelsey was pulling fucked up shit, but in the midst of it all, it seemed all too impossible to retaliate against. The man you'd been missing was standing before you now, reaching out a hand to brush his fingers against your wrist. Eddie's hand stroked toward your shoulder as you wiped your eyes and took a deep breath in.

"He also threatened me into pretending to marry this really cool guy. Who I'm really in love with now. But I'm so scared this guy'll never want to really be with me. And when our contract is up, he'll be free to fall for someone without being obliged."

Eddie watched as you spoke, biting into a frown that drooped lower still.

"You're gonna make me cry." Eddie breathed a laugh through his nose as a sheen covered his big brown eyes, and his hands found either side of your face.

"Cryin' because you know I'm right? Or cryin' because you know I'm wrong?" You dared to ask, fearful all the while your heart really couldn't take it if he turned you down now.

"Are you crazy? What part of 'I've loved you since the Hawaiian hot tub' don't you understand?"

Bitting back a smile, you took a beat to look into Eddie's dark dreamy eyes. Your brain was almost to fogged by the chaos of the day to fully comprehend the conversation you were having right now. But your heart seemed to understand, as it settled and warmed within you.

"You sobered up fast, huh?" You joked, but not really, as your eyes focused back and forth between his.

"I don't know why it's so hard. Maybe I need longer than three months in rehab. God it's so embarrassing."

But you got it. This lifestyle wasn't for the tender soul. But a tender soul always made the best art. And self-medication was the quickest method to suppressing the madness.

"Hey," You shook your head, catching Eddies eye. "No more talking about all this shit tonight. We'll figure it out soon enough, won't we?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I hope so." Eddie nodded, sucking in a breath and drawing out its release. "Come on then... let me take care of you for once."

Eddie dragged you into the bathroom, filled up the tub and dimmed the lights. He joined you in the water and washed your hair and kissed your shoulders. He held you close enough to feel his heart beating. He dried you off and helped you slip into your pj's and joined you in bed for what you realized was the very first time. It was early by rockstar standards. Only ten. Still early enough to catch a special on the telly, the perfect white noise that sent you drifting off in Eddie's arms. And just before sleep, you felt the peace of belonging you'd wished for when you dreamed of home.

///

The next morning you were awoken by a cart of food being pulled in by the wild haired guitarist.

"Didn't mean to wake you, sorry love. Food can wait if you're still tired."

"Don't you have a show to play or an interview to film or anything? How are you still here?" You wondered, staying cocooned under the duvet.

"I've got nothing. I was actually going to ask if you minded me staying a few nights on tour with you. We are still contractually wed. But more importantly I really fucking missed you, ya know?"

"Do you really want to stay? It's no fun."

Just as Eddie started to answer, the door to your room that had been unlocked from Eddie's breakfast delivery, swung open. Kelsey barged in, rolled up papers in hand. You assumed they were the doctor's notes left from last night. They'd ordered you to a day of rest.

"You're one lucky fucker, you know that? You might get to be babied today but you're making up the interviews I had to cancel before we leave at six tomorrow morning."

"What are you gonna do Kelsey, drag me out of fucking bed?" You sat up and spat right at the guy. "I'm not some fucking pet you can leash up and show off. I'm a person! With a soul! I guess I can see why that's hard for you to comprehend, being the leach you are."

"You need to leave. Don't come back today. I will call security if you do." Eddie walked towards Kelsey, beginning to back him out of the room. The manager laughed lowly.

"Well aren't you two cute? Treacherous nobodies." Kelsey tossed the rolled-up papers at you before turned to leave.

"What a fucking prick." Eddie growled, picking up the papers that had floated each and every direction. He tossed them on the desk and moved to sit on the bed at your side.

"So what'll it be? Pancakes? Or back to resting?" The guy reached out a hand to brush a strand of hair from your face. Just as you grinned and opened your mouth to answer there was another persistent knock at the door.

"It never ends!" Eddie chimed.

"I told you it's no fun here." You shrugged pointedly. "Will you answer again?" You were gonna choose going back to sleep, if the fates would allow. Your body ached from its efforts of violent sick the night before. Your mind ached from exploding under the pressure of it all, last night.

"Oh, hi." Eddie opened the door to Zed. His hair was mused. He was clad in only a robe and boxers. And he held a paper in his hand.

"Was Kelsey just here?" The drummer looked anxiously from Eddie to you, back to Eddie.

"Yeah, why?" Eddie assured, seemingly worried.

"Did he leave you papers? Because it's our bank statements. And they're way fucking wrong, at least on my end." Zed held up his bluish tinted sheet that looked just like the one sitting on the table of your room. You didn't feel very tired anymore. You rushed to stand, grabbing the document and scanning the words and numbers on the page.

"There are hundreds missing. Maybe more. And it's all charged under 'miscellaneous funds.' What the fuck is this?" You waved the page before both boys, alarm bells whirring in your head. When Kelsey threatened to pull from your paycheck he wasn't kidding.

"We've had almost mirrored spending habits as the month before yet more is being taken out this time?" Zed shuffled documents until he reveled last month's invoice, pointing out the differences.

"My lawyers are Kelsey's lawyers. What should I do?"

"I'm gonna go to the lobby and call Brooke. I've just had an idea that should hopefully help you all." Eddie noted in a hurry. He nodded to you and brushed past Zed on a sudden mission.

"Fuck dude. It's like, never ending." You wanted to cry but were probably too dehydrated to produce tears at this point.

"I'm going to make sure the others know but..." Zed spoke, shifting his weight in the doorway. "Are you okay?"

"I will be, I think. I don't know. Probably no more little blue pills, yeah?"

"Oh, I already flushed em." Zed assured. "And I assume I won't be getting any more late-night visits either?" The drummer scratched the back of his head and looked to you like a sad little puppy. He wasn't in love with you. And you had nary a feeling for him. But the pair of you had found comfort in your routine hookups.

"I don't know. It's not like Eddie and I have anything officially going on. But I can promise you, you'll be the first to know when I've got my shit figured out, yeah?"

Zed nodded and told you to get back to bed, and thanked you for having a meltdown grand enough to allow everyone else a day off too. You shot him a middle finger and chuckled your way back under the hotel sheets.

///

Kansas 1986 -

Eddie hadn't left your side since Chicago. The last night you spent there he'd called Brooke and asked her to sneak into Kelsey's office in L.A. to go through his files. The brave soul did just that, and found a fax Kelsey had sent to himself of a new contract where he forged the bands signatures and decided to charge you each more monthly. Brooke called you in Detroit and set you up with some well renowned lawyers. You had big plans to fuck Kelsey's shit up after the tour. There were only seven shows left. And you weren't in the business of disappointing your fans.

Kansas was pretty beautiful, the sun shone, your plans were coming together, Eddie spent a lot of time sober and reading a paper back with his head in your lap. Your tour bus pulled into the finest hotel available. You were an entire day ahead of schedule. And there was nothing to do with it.

"Let's go to dinner some place nice, no late-night pub. Wanna?"  Eddie coaxed, crash landing to sit on the edge of this weekends bed. You watched him in his own amusement, grinning as the mattress continued to spring. 

"Sure, that sounds like a nice change of pace." It wasn't to say that you'd been starved of fine dining experiences on this tour. But the past few days had been nonstop with no time to relish or relax outside of the tour bus.

Before you knew it you were dressed to the nines, hanging off of Eddies arm as he escorted you out of the back of the resort where your limo waited. Unsure where exactly you headed, Eddie had taken care of asking the front desk for the nicest eatery nearby. 

A castle like building with French style cuisine it was. Skipping ahead of reservations and smiling politely to wait staff, you wound up settled comfortably in a leather booth, sipping a lemonade and staring at Eddie. He leaned both elbows on his side of the table and stared right back at you.  

"Thanks. For dinner. And for staying on the road with me. And for... well everything I guess."

"It's been truly the least I could do. You shouldn't be saying thanks at all. I should be saying sorry for how much of an embarrassment I've been to you, like, since the dawn of our meeting." Eddie spoke up, twirling the straw in his soda.

"Don't start that-" You tried to stop his groveling, shaking your head.

"I am sorry. We agreed to this marriage to help each other's image, more or less. And I've been parading around like a fool."

"Maybe. But you also got us a trip to Hawaii that changed my life a little. And you're here with me now. You've been better to me than you give yourself credit for." You grinned, searching Eddies deep wide eyes. He squinted as if to consider the weight of your words. He let the chatter of the atmosphere grow louder as silence settled in the space between you. One sip of your drink. Two. Three.

"So, what... how..." Eddie started, struggling to choose his words until he just came right out with it. "Do you really love me?"

"I really do." You nodded, letting your head bob more assuredly as you thought on your statement. "I'm not sure when it happened but I can promise you, you'll break my heart when you leave."

"Well, I don't want to leave." Eddie shook his head, seemingly worried, like he was about to be swept off into a void. "I don't want to leave you. I know I have to go back to L.A. soon but, that's not what we're talking about here."

"It's not." 

Just then, your kind waitress breezed by, offering refills and desserts. You declined both and decided to call it a night, hoping to get some proper beauty sleep in since you had a night free enough to do so. The pair of you breezed out of the restaurant, flashing smiles to the fans who'd gathered outside of the business after learning you were dining inside. You shouldered your way into the limo without too much fuss, and then turned to find Eddie settling at your side. 

And when he looked back at you, it was like the whole world made sense. It baffled you. Here in the middle of America, without a single prompt, it felt like your world just shifted on its axis all because of the smile that reached Eddie's eyes when they locked on yours. Maybe it was the effects of a proper meal settling in after probably too long without one. Or maybe the tour had finally driven you mad beyond comprehension.

But by the time you got back to the hotel, you weren't so naive. You realized that the wall you'd built up that guarded your heart from this man had finally crumbled, the last brick blown over after your conversation at dinner. 

"Eddie-"

Like a mind reader or a braver soul, the man in question spun around from locking the hotel door to grab your face and kiss you. And you got it then. You got why he couldn't have done this with you, if he'd been half as in love with you as you were with him right in this moment. You understood why it would have wrecked him. But you got to kiss him now, letting your soul settle as he kissed you back.

It was as if you'd never done this before. With Eddie or anyone. A carnal desperation washed over you, now that the waiting was over. Your hands traced the inside of Eddie's leather jacket, falling until they reached his belt. As your fingers started to undo the thing, Eddie pushed them away. Oh no, he was about to stop you again, wasn't he? 

"We have all night." Eddie explained, saving your heart from sinking to your stomach. "Slow?"

"Yeah, I like that idea." You smiled, letting Eddie gaze at you through hooded eyes, pressing his smile to your cheek for a kiss. He let his lips wander from your jaw to your neck as his hands trailed from your sides to your back. 

This was all you'd ever wanted from him. This was more than you'd ever let yourself have with him. His body firm against yours. His heart on the table. God, you'd nearly forgotten you were in the midst of a tour that made you nearly consider quitting this business entirely. You'd nearly forgotten you'd ever been hurt at all. 

You simply soaked up the way Eddie peeled off your layers one at a time, taking forever to do so. He laid you down and let you rip away his shirt. He smoothed his hands over your skin and let you tangle your fingers in his hair. 

Dusk cast through the curtains, coloring the room a dull purple. Eddie marveled at the beauty of the evening and moved his kisses down your stomach. Eventually his lips met the middle of you and his kisses were unrelenting. As tortuously slow as he'd taken his time to wind up between your legs, he made up for by working you up into a frenzy in the matter of seconds. And then he claimed he had only just begun; Eddie announced his plan to make you come undone as many times as he could muster before you were each too tired to go on.

He kept his word, sending stars into your vision over and over as the night turned black. You returned every favor, dragging out your efforts to drive Eddie wild until he absolutely couldn't stand it any longer. When it came time for the guy to press himself all the way into you, overwhelming peace filled your heart so full it frightened you. You were almost moved to tears by how in utter fucking love with Eddie Munson you were. Unsure how else to express those profound emotions in a time like now; you let your jaw slack and your breath catch as the weight of these intense feelings and realizations wracked your body and soul. 

Eddie's eyes were focusing on yours then, and with a smile he sighed, "I know." And somehow, you believed that he somehow truly did have an understanding of the exact feeling you struggled to articulate. Still, you barely got to relish the way his hips rocked into yours before he was losing composure. But still, it was beautiful to watch Eddie reach his peak, straining against you. Because of you.

Eddie was crashing at your side, spent and sleepy and so fucking beautiful. 

///

The next morning came too soon. You knew last night was a one off, for now. You knew there were days that waited just ahead that demanded attention you worried you didn't have patience for. You knew you needed to hold onto last night for all it was worth, when morning came.

Eddie woke up, slinging an arm surer around your middle, groaning about not wanting to ever get up. You chuckled and shifted your weight to sit up ever so slightly. You had time left to laze, but not much. So you knew your question needed to be asked right away. 

"Eddie." You whispered, grabbing the hand he left splayed across your stomach, bringing his knuckles to your lips. The guy lifted his mussed head of hair and let his dark eyes flutter to meet yours. He propped himself up on his elbows and pressed his own lips to your shoulder.

"Eddie... What are we doing? What happens now?"

"I want something real with you." Eddie lifted his face to find yours. He was smiling at first but it faltered before he spoke up again. "But I think we need to figure out our shit first. Let our dumbass contract end. Get you through this tour and away from Kelsey. Get myself off the fuckin' bottle. Then maybe we can live life together instead of just trying to survive it."

"I see." You mulled over his statement, still holding his knuckles in your grasp.

"All that to say I want to see you all the time. I want this with you all the time. But I don't want to make you promises I'm afraid I'll break. I meant what I said about staying in rehab longer than three months, this time."

"Is that why you're going back to L.A.?"

"I already asked Brooke to find me a residency." The announcement was a happy one. But it meant his leaving was soon and it meant his absence would be significant. It meant mornings in sheets and sunlight were further away than you'd recently hopped.

"Can I come visit you?"

"I don't think I could fully heal if you didn't."

///

Topeka wasn't the most glamourous city. But deep in the heart of the Midwest, the wildest shit seemed to be going down. Your green room was full of groupies, clowns, bikers, freaks of all kinds. There was probably nothing left to do in the middle of tornado alley than to go a little crazy.

Maybe that's why you weren't surprised when you found Eddie backstage. Maybe that's why you weren't disappointed. Maybe that's why you didn't stop Eddie when he let some pink haired punk rocker pour a shot down his throat. 

But then he saw you and he smiled. He fucking smiled. And you couldn't help but let outrage burst from your being at that point. Marching through the crowd, you plunged a hand out to grab Eddie's sleeve, yanking him away from the madness. All around you people were laughing and yammering and singing, lost in their own plots. Eddie wasn't laughing anymore. He wasn't smiling. He was protesting as you dragged him behind you, around the corner toward a row of backstage showers. Secluded in the tiled room, you let go and turned to face him, Eddie didn't even look like himself. His eyes were glassed over, his demeanor barely held together.

"What the fuck?" You yelled. "Just because you have a room booked at rehab doesn't mean you get a free bender. Stop trying to kill yourself!"

"I- thinking..." Eddie rose a finger, pointing your way before he huffed a small curse, losing his balance, staggering toward the wall.

"You're a fucking mess. I don't even know what to do." You wanted to cry, you wanted to yell at him until he sobered the fuck up and promised to stop this bullshit forever. For good. He stayed leaning against the wall, furrowing his brow, closing his eyes as a you shouted his way.

"You're not the only one this shit is hard for!" Eddie slurred back, opening his eyes and gesturing your way.

"What are you talking about Eddie?"

"This is too hard. I'm too-" He huffed a frustrated sigh, too drunk to possibly convey a proper expression. Still, to the best of his shitfaced ability, he tried. "I'm too fucked up for this job. I'm too fucked up for you. I think I'm always gonna be. So... so jut go back to Zed. Or something. I'm gonna fuck this up. I don't want to but-" His words slurred so close together it may have been impossible to understand him if you didn't know him so well. There were tears welling in his eye's as he rambled, and every word went straight to the pit in your stomach.

"Eddie, baby, listen-"

"No, you gotta go on stage!" He waved a hand for you to hurry away. It was true, but your concerns for him were increasing by the second. Stagehands poked their head in the locker area, calling your name, insisting you hurry. You called back to them to find Kelsey, God how you wished anyone else would be in charge enough to help. When your sleezy ass manager finally rushed in, you told him you refused to go on stage until you saw Eddie put into a cab and escorted back to your hotel. Because there were people watching, Kelsey did as you said.

You played that show with your heart in your throat. You sang with your brain turned off. You tried to remember how great last night was. But tonight scared you too bad.

///

You didn't get on the tour bus. You didn't let Kelsey threaten you to stay for the after party. You rushed to hail a cab and paid the driver far more than anyone ever should have to book it to the hotel.

The driver was brilliant. But the ride seemed to last forever- every second, a threat, in your mind. You worried almost to the point of getting sick. What if they hadn't dropped him off in the room like you demanded? What if he got out and went to a bar or got lost? What if something far worse happened?

You ran inside the fivestar lodge and sprinted to the elevator. You pressed the button to your floor a dozen time, willing it to move faster, muttering your will outloud. The elevator doors creaked shut as you pressed the button again and again, beyond desprate to get upstairs. The indicator passed the second floor. Then it passed the third. And then your ride screeched in an unfamiliar tone, stalling before the arrow could make it to the fourth floor. No.

"This is a sick fucking joke!" You cried out to no one, kicking the doors of the elevator that stalled between floors. You cried and cried and pressed the button again a dozen times before back up, accepting your fate, letting your shoulders hit the wall as you stood alone in tears. Maybe Eddie was right somehow. This was never going to work. Maybe you were destined to break each others hearts. You almost let the grim thought take over your mind. You almost let that conclusion be the finale one to make.

But then you remembered the look in Eddie's eyes last night, when he pinned you against the mattress. And the look in his eyes at dinner. And from the side stages and passenger seats and press junkets. Maybe it was destined to fall apart with Eddie. But you weren't gonna go down without a fight damn it. 

Pushing yourself from the wall, you cursed and pounded the button until the elevator screeched into motion again, rising passed the handful of floors it took until your destination. You practically pried the doors open when you got to where you needed to be, racing down the hall, fumbling your key from your pocket. 

Eddie was there, slumped halfway on the foot of the bed, like he couldn't make it the rest of the way. Empty cans a littered near the bin by the door. Kicking past them, you moved to shake Eddie's shoulders. He grumbled at your jostling him, but nothing you could understand. You cried and tried your best to move him to a more sensible position in the middle of the mattress. You cried and rolled over to kneel by the bedside telephone. It rang twice before she answered.

"Brooke, you need to come get him." You cried. 

"I'm on my way." She assured; without an ounce of hesitation or question or anything but allegiance.

You stayed up, checking Eddie's pulse that never faltered, sniffling back tears for this whole fucked up situation. You stayed up writing a letter to Eddie, promising him things with Zed weren't going to work out. Promising nothing would work out with anyone but him. Promising you'd come visit Eddie in rehab and that you actually loved him more than you knew you were capable of. That even though you were scared too, you were willing. Promising you were proud to call yourself his wife even if you were never actually married. Then you signed your name at the bottom, finally giving him that autograph he'd once asked for.

Brooke was there six hours later. Dressed to the nines, slipping in the room unsurprised by the scene, reaching out to hug you without asking. You let the woman hold you for a moment as you focused on taking deep breaths and convincing your nervous system help was here and happening.

"Thank you for giving a fuck about him. And helping him. For coming all this way." You shuddered a breath and looked to the woman with kind eyes and a killer fashion sense.

"I care about Eddie. I care about you too, you know?"

Brook went on to say that if you ever wanted to call her to talk, her line would always be open. And if you ever wanted to call her to replace Kelsey, she'd gladly represent you. She went on to curse the man in charge of your career, insisting you deserved better than the treatment he gave you. You struggled not to keep on crying as you thanked her a billion times more, and moved to deal with Eddie.

As you and his manager sat up the man, he seemed to wake up from his stupor. Still out of it enough to stay silent, but alert enough to help as you and Brooke dragged Eddie out of the room- and to another stupid fucking elevator and out of the back of the hotel. You had packed his things and stuck your letter in his bag. No doubting he'd receive it in a timely manner.

Outside, Brooke left you to bear all of Eddie's weight as she opened the limo door. In that time, Eddie tried his best to support himself more fully, grabbing at your shirt and yanking himself up to look at you. His eyes were brimmed with tears, still dark and beautiful. Still your favorite pair. 

"You promised." Eddie winced. "No lugging me around." You had a firm hold around his waist, and under his arm. You remembered the deal you made before signing the contracts. You remember what he referenced.

"Not lugging. Helping. That's what I promised." You sniffled, letting more tears fall as you brushed back Eddies hair. His eyes closed and his brow furrowed as you guided him toward the limo. Brook shut his door and promised to phone you. Then they were off. The car sputtered to start and turned down the alley and you stood there all alone again.

///

The next few nights went by in a blur. Texas was hot, Colorado was pretty, Oregon could have been fun, but it wasn't. You allowed yourself no time to think or feel or wonder. You focused solely on the music and getting off this God forsaken tour.

Kelsey went flying down the halls of a casino in Vegas when Ambrose tried to call him out for stealing money from you lot. It resulted in a physical altercation where the manager had your guitarist by the collar against a wall, but the staff security team broke it up and Ambrose slumped off to the lobby bar instead of responding when you asked if he was okay.

That night you stayed up late on the bus to Phoenix, staring at the screen of the telly mounted near the cabinets.

"You're doing that thing again." Zed appeared, looking down at you with tired eyes. "Where you stare a hole through whatever is in front of you."

"Yeah." You sighed. The drummer seemed to decide something, and moved to sit at your side- handing you the joint he'd been smoking. After a beat, he asked if you'd found any good lawyers. You mentioned that you in fact had. Sometime around Detroit, Brooke had phoned you with more information than you knew what to do with and a list of people rallied to help.

 Silence fell between the pair of you once more as a late-night show began to air. You halfheartedly listened to the host relay news updates while passing Zed's joint back and forth. And then a certain topic demanded your full-blown attention.

"Corroded Coffin announced a hiatus tonight, disappointing fans who'd recently been promised an upcoming tour." The late-night host made a joke about the metal groups fans being a bunch of softies. "Yeah, apparently, lead singer Eddie Munson checked himself into rehab for a whole year..." Whatever joke that crackled through the screen next was lost on you, as your eyes brimmed, full of pride and fear. Proud for how Eddie was being public now about his absence from the scene. And fearful for what was next to come. 

A lot could happen in a year. A lot needed to happen in a year. But what if it didn't go how, you all hoped? What if your attempt to hold Kelsey accountable backfired? What if you were never able to get free? What if Eddie found a nice girl down the hall from whatever room he booked and forgot all about how badly he said he wanted a real shot with you? 

"We'll still be friends, right?" Zed pipped up, taking the joint from your grasp and passing you a stray tissue instead. "Way less codependent? More morally supportive?" 

"I'd like that, yeah." You sniffled and smiled to the drummer whose presence had been a surprising safe place for you through this whole mess. You thanked him for being there and for understanding the time and place for your vice driven alliance had come to a close. But after a newly born secret hand shake it was decided that you'd still be glad to call each other a friend.

///

L.A. 1986 -

The holidays fast approached by the end of that tour. Your Christmas was shrouded by legal documents. Kelsey hadn't spoken to you since you'd served him those papers. He didn't even look your way in the court room. 

When the new year kicked in, you spent most weekends visiting Eddie in rehab. You'd play a round of cards and tell him how good he looked and listen as he spoke about how much better he felt too. You each dreamed of life after he got out. Movie dates and song writing sessions. You each parted ways with a well-meaning embrace and sometimes a small kiss or two. 

While awaiting the verdict to your case against Kelsey, you declined your labels deal for a new album. You phoned Brooke instead and asked her to book you a trip to Hawaii. You started packing that night, unsure when you'd leave or for how long. But your trust in Brooke's ability to work miracles remained steadfast. So when your phone clattered and you answered to the sound of her voice, you weren't surprised by the glee in her tone. 

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" She asked. Her question faltered your grin and opened the pit in your stomach. Hadn't she just said hello cheerfully as ever? 

"Uh-" 

"The bad news is that old house you wanted me to rent again is no longer available. I can't book it for you." Brooke interrupted, voice flat and tone descending.

"Oh, I see." You shrugged, not half as hopeless as you'd expected to be by her bad news. You expected much worse. But you were pretty bummed. That home was the only one you had in mind, the only space you imagined finding true peace in for your planned getaway. The only home on your mind since you'd left it. You and Eddie had so much fun there. Sure, there were moments filled with awkward silence and questionable decisions made there too. But that little Hawaiian home had your heart damn it.

"But the good news is, it's for sale. And I asked them to hold off on accepting offers until I called you." Brooke rushed to inform. Oh. Now this was very good news indeed. You asked a couple times if she was joking. You knew she wouldn't do that. But you just couldn't believe you had an opportunity much grander and more promising ahead of you. Potentially more than a suitcase to pack.

Without any hesitation you formed a plan. Two days later Brooke sat next to you on a plane, a bundle of hundreds in hand and every pair of fingers crossed. You rented a chic little motel room for one night, and abandon your things there soon as they hit the shelves. You had a house to go buy. 

It all happened so fast. You made an offer any relator would be a fool to refuse, cash in hand. In the matter of an hour and a half meeting, you were signing your name on a dotted line and being handed the keys to a door you'd opened a few times before. It was yours. It was all yours now.

Brooke took you to dinner to celebrate. You bought her desert and asked her what more you could do as thanks. She had done so much for you, more than she ought to have done. The stunning woman shook her head and smiled and reminded you friends didn't owe friends anything. All she cared to ask of you was to make this year better than the last. To see you happier would be enough thanks for Brooke.

The flight back to L.A. was surreal. You spent it planning paint colors and writing a list of movers to call and dates to settle. 

And as soon as your plans were solid and your bags were packed, another weekend rolled around. It was time to see Eddie again. You drove to the rehab in the middle of nowhere and felt something like melancholy weighing in your gut. Something bittersweet in the back of your throat. Things were never going to be the same. 

 The halls were bright white, sunlight making the tile floor shimmer. Residents you'd come to recognize pursed polite smiles your way as you turned corners to find Eddie. You knew where he would be. At the picnic tables in the garden. Maybe with a book in hand. Maybe with a pencil. 

Today, he was sitting amongst the sprawling green grounds alone, a magazine on the table before him. It was closed. As you approached you recognized the Rolling Stone font across the glossy page, looking up to find Eddie staring a hole through the cover. 

"You gotta turn the pages with your hands babe, won't open otherwise." You remarked, stepping through the grass to see Eddie grinning up at you. He was more despondent today than he had been your past few visits. He waited till you sat at his side, resting your head on his shoulder as an affectionate hello. 

"Apparently there is a pretty scathing write up about me in here. One of the first since I paused the band to come here." Eddie voiced, letting one of his big hands rest on your thigh. His rings were missing, and his other usual regalia too. The grey hoodie he wore suited him well, you thought, with his pulled back hair. He looked very clean, in every sense.

"You don't have to read it if you're not ready." You reminded, lifting your head to face the man at your side. He left his hand resting on your leg as he bit his lip and looked to you too. "Or I could read it to you?" 

Eddie shook his head.

"It's time I start facing some facts, ya know? Start doing the hard work of facing what I have to change now that I'm sober enough too." Eddie sighed. He'd spent the past few months getting well, letting his body and mind recover. The next step was to grow. To start molding himself into the version he came here seeking help to rebuild. It was time for the hard part. The part he never got to in rehab before.

"I messed a lot of shit up." Eddie nodded, letting his eyes fall away from yours. "I should have done a lot of things differently. Especially with you." 

"Babe, it's okay. You don't have to do this." You assured, reaching out to smooth your hand over his shoulder. You had never held anything that happened against him. 

"I know we both kind of got roped into a weird and shitty situation. But I could have handled it so much better. You deserved so much more respect than I gave you. And that last night. You never should have had to take care of me like that. I shouldn't have gone that far off the deep end," Eddie sighed, letting his eyes well with tears, sniffing them away as he apologized for it all. You brushed away a loose strand of his hair and shook your head. 

"S'okay, Eddie. We were both just taking those days as they came. We did what we thought we needed to, to get by. It's okay."

As you pulled the guy in for a hug, Eddie fell into your frame without hesitation, burying his head in your neck. You held him there for a moment muttering something about how proud you were that he was doing his best to be better.

"Can I tell you something, now?" You wondered, smoothing Eddies hair as he pulled away to lock his dark eyes with yours. He smiled, when he noticed you were already grinning. When he nodded, you drew in a breath and said,

"I asked Brooke to book me a trip to Hawaii. You know how stressful the past few months have been. Hell, the past year." You began. Eddie nodded along. "She found that same little place we stayed in for our honeymoon." You rose your fingers to curl into air quotes around the last word of  your sentence. Eddie huffed a laugh before speaking up. 

"You loved it there. So did I. So you're staying there again?" Eddie beamed. So did you. 

"It was no longer available to rent." You revealed, watching Eddie's brow furrow. "Because it was for sale. So I bought it. And I'm moving there. Like now. Like after I leave here." Your smile was so wide it nearly ached your cheeks. Eddie was shocked, brows shooting up, mouth hanging open, palms held out before you. You took his hands and nodded to assure you weren't fibbing. 

"Oh my God." Eddie gasped. "This is perfect. I'm so happy for you." He wrapped you in another embrace, planting his lips to your cheek as you started yammering about plans to paint and furniture to buy and an open door policy Eddie was allowed to mind at all times. Eddie watched as you rambled, his grin flattening a little, until his lips were bitten together and his brows pushed togeteher. 

"What is it..." You stopped listing plans and straightened your posture to watch as Eddie sucked in a deep breath. Seeming to choose his words, you tried to remain patient, ignoring the pit in your stomach threatening to grow.

"I can't have you read me this Rolling Stone article because I need to do it on my own." Eddie spoke decidedly. "I can't come visit you in Hawaii. I can't-" Eddie shuddered a breath. "I know we aren't really together. But I need to be really alone, for a while. I need to deal with my own shit, ya know?" Eddie's voice shook as he explained himself, bouncing his knee and moving his eyes from yours to his lap. The void in your stomach widened exponentially. 

You wanted to argue back, remind him what he said the night you slept together last. How he said he wanted to be with you. But you couldn't be so selfish. You unfortunately understood where he was coming from. You swallowed your despair and nodded.

"Okay. Yeah, I understand Ed."

"I'm sorry. I lo-" Eddie blinked up to the sky and shook his head. "I'm sorry."

A moment of heavy silence swirled between you, as you made the hard choice to be okay with this, at least in the moment. Then you looked up with a grimace of a smile. 

"Can I still write to you? I'd like to still write to you." You declared, watching Eddie work to find composure. 

"I'd like that too." He breathed, forcing a smile. "I'm still happy for you." He assured, his voice thick with emotion. 

"And I'm still proud of you." You smiled, and you meant it.

///

Hawaii 1987 -

Another holiday season was fast approaching. And this year you had every opportunity to celebrate. You bought a little faux tree and put it by the fireplace. You decorated the big kitchen windows with garland and let Christmas vinyl's spin from the record player in the guest room. 

The little Hawaiian home was clean and cozy and decorated just the way you liked. Since moving in, fresh paint brightened the walls. Old familiar photos hung there too. A few miscellaneous tour posters and three platinum records the only memorabilia you held on to from the past four years.

On the kitchen counter was an offer from your record label you were still mulling over. The year off and away from Hollywood was a refreshing and much needed break for your sanity. Creativity seemed to flow more freely all the while. You definitely had music in mind to record. You just weren't sure if you were ready.

You liked the life you had here. The mornings you spent milling about the markets down the block. The friends you made of your neighbors. The quiet. 

You missed your old life too, though. More than you thought you would have. You missed making music and singing for crowds. You missed dressing up and going out. The closest to a wild night out you had since moving here was when Brooke surprised you one summer weekend. She stayed at your insistence and took you to the finest restaurant on the Island and gossiped for two days and three nights straight. And when you asked about Eddie, she said he missed you. She said he kept your rarely exchanged letters on his coffee table. She said you should call him. But you couldn't. You wanted to respect his space. To allow him all the room he needed to grow into sobriety and into the new version of himself he was anxious to learn about.

But Brooke wouldn't answer when you asked if you should get back in the studio soon. She said only you could know the right answer to that question. So you mulled it over from then until now. Teetering closer to calling back your label every day, eager to agree to record something. 

And then it was Christmas time.

It would've felt lonely if you let it. But you'd worked too hard on finding hope in the dullness, this year. You worked too hard finding peace in the quiet, this year. You reminded yourself to relish the home you got to call your own. How you truly felt you belonged here. You marveled over how fate handed you these house keys. You smiled when you remembered how you'd come to fall in love here, in more ways than one. 

Then there was a knock at the door.

Mulling toward the front of your home, you expected a delivery or two. You'd ordered gifts for your neighbors this year, and some for yourself too of course. You were determined to have a happy fucking holiday.

But the man at your door was more of a gift than you'd asked for, this year. 

Eddie was there, grinning wide, wringing his hands. His hair was a little longer, the longest you'd ever seen it. His frame was toned, his face was full of warm color and his eyes were bright and clear. He was a vision. He was so damn beautiful.

"What's all this?" You smiled, letting a laugh of surprise escape your lips. 

"Surprise? I hope I'm not intruding." Eddie rose a hopeful brow, his dark deep eyes peering into yours for the first time in too damn long.

"Shut the fuck up and come inside you fool." You smiled and widened the doorway, stepping aside so Eddie could enter. Your heart hammered at the sight of him, your soul buzzed to life at the realization that he was here, he was really fucking here.

"Just like old times, aye?" Eddie grinned, letting his gaze float across the home he'd discovered with you, a year ago. 

"Hopefully not." You noted, crossing your fingers this visit led to a more positive and promising outcome than your last time together in this home. Eddie laughed and asked how you were liking it, complimenting the changes you'd made since last he saw.

You rambled for a bit about a particularly hard renovation and another story about how perfectly another came together. Then you asked if he was hungry. It was almost dinner time. 

Before you knew it, you were mixing up your famous pasta sauce to the tune of Eddie's story telling. He made you laugh so hard you cried, and nearly burnt yourself stumbling to catch your breath near the oven. He ate your dinner with gratitude and answered your questions about how his life had been going. Eddie spoke about a tiny apartment and a sparse kitchen and an empty schedule. Eddie admitted it had been hard, but that he was finally in a place he felt he had control over. Eddie helped you clean up and let you make some hot cocoa's because it was the damn season.

You led Eddie to the living room, warm mugs in hand, rambling back and forth about the year you'd spent apart. You spoke about making new friends and considering calling your label back. You mentioned how much you missed him, like a lot.

"You're not mad I'm here?" Eddie cautioned, setting his mug on the coffee table and turning to face you. He rested an elbow on the back of the sofa and his head in his hand.

"Why would I be mad, Eddie?" Your mind boggled, unable to consider feeling anything besides unbridled glee at the mere thought of the man's presence.

"Because last time I saw you, I said I couldn't come here. And now I've just invited myself over all of a sudden. I'll understand if-"

"No, I'm not mad. I didn't think you'd never show up. Maybe that's the hopeless romantic in me." You shrugged, smiled and dipped your chin toward your shoulder, trying to hide your embarrassed blush.

"Romanic, eh?" 

"I never stopped loving you, Eddie." Your voice was a whisper. Eddies eyes burned into yours. His gaze was full of desire you recalled rising up in him before. His gaze was full of adoration you remembered him expressing. His dark chestnut gaze was familiar and warm and so nice to stare back into after too damn long.

"Okay I'm gonna say something, then. You can kick me out after this. But I'm gonna say it, okay?" Eddie seemed to decide. 

"O-okay."

"In rehab I did a lot of thinking about the past. What I fucked up. What I lost. But when I got out, I started to realize I had forever in front of me. And there was so much I still had the opportunity to fix and change. And I realized there was no version of forever I want to spend without you. I know this is like... the third time we've come to this crossroad but..." 

Suddenly Eddie was sliding off the sofa and kneeling before you on one knee. Suddenly, he was reaching in his pocket. Suddenly you were staring at a ring. The stone was tigers eye and the band was gold. It was what you tried to pick out all that time ago.

"I'm a mess." Eddie proclaimed "I cannot promise to make your life better. but I can promise I want to be a part of your life. I want to marry you. Actually this time."

"For real?" You gasped a chuckle, sniffing away the spring of tears that clouded your vision from focusing on every little detail of this perfect fucking moment.

"Very much for real. No contracts. No reason besides the fact that I love you." 

You were nodding, holding out your left hand and struggling to suck in a breath before you could say yes a dozen times in a row. The space in your stomach where despair often bloomed was now only full of hope and assurance and calm. The space on your finger that had been left bare since your tossed that ugly diamond ring into the ocean was now perfectly fitted with the jewel of your dreams. The space in front of you was now taken up by Eddie. And he was finally all yours.

///

New York 1988-

"So after Kelsey went to prison and Eddie got out of rehab and moved to Hawaii with me, we got lawfully married, got a dog, helped each other rediscover music."

"The release of your new album suggests you and Eddie are a duo now. Do either of you plan on making solo records again?"

"I don't." Eddie chimed in, finally settling at your side in the booth with a fresh soda in hand. "I'm too unhinged without her around. Plus, she clearly makes music better. It's because of her touch we won album of the year. We probably lost to Paul Simon in 86' because there was too much of my misguided influence on Steel and Stone." Eddie laughed and you shook your head. 

"Don't discredit yourself."

"Will there be a coin toss to decide who gets to keep the Grammy?" Rolling Stone chuckled.

"We'll probably keep it on the mantel where we both can see."

After that interview ended, Brooke picked you both up from the lounge and let you stay in her loft until your flight back to the Island was due the next morning. You didn't wake her when the both of you got up and snuck off. But you left a letter on her counter, explaining that she deserved an award for putting up with the pair of you after all this time. So, you left the Grammy on her counter too. ///

Hawaii 1990- You opened the front door with one hand and balanced a bag of produce with the other. The man at that bodega at the edge of town was still selling veggies from his garden. Even though he walked with a cane now he'd manage his way to sell you produce for half price every weekend. 

You breezed through your home, toward the kitchen where you rested your bags on the counter next to a radio that had been left on. Right on cue, Eddie made his way in from out back, dripping ocean water on the rug you put down to protect the hardwood floors. 

"Wanna come out there with me while the waves are still calm?" He wondered, finding a towel and kissing your cheek as a morning greeting. You'd been brave enough recently to wade in the water a little deeper than ever before, with Eddie at your side, and only when the tide was calm. 

"I'm making breakfast now," You waved off your husbands offer, catching a glimpse of your tiger eye ring in the sun rays through the window curtains.

"Then I'll help." Eddie smiled, stealing the tomatoes you were in the process of washing clean. He took the food to begin prepping and turned up the radio on his way, a song you'd both written played. You watched as Eddie helped make your meal and listened as he sang to you and thanked God for the music that made it possible for your paths to cross and connect together. 

What you might write next together was just as an exciting thought as what the pair of you might watch on the telly later. Life was easy to find love within when Eddie really clearly loved the hell out of you. This house felt like a home with him in it. Eddie was finally home... and so were you.

///

[sea-of-dust]

MAKOTO YUKI x GN! Reader

Summary: Dating headcannons

N: I had this just rotting bro posting this with the event. Ik u don't read these angst jumpscare. Also DO NOT listen to Malice Mizer OR SWEET (p5) while reading fanfic or headcannons for this guy you'll cry 7 times

Hm? Is something your gonna hear alot. He notices everything. Sometimes he purposely doesn't push you to tell him, other times he's told by Yukari.

He knows when your troubled, you can tell when he knows what's going on as he tends to get a bit closer before going "hm?" You notice when he's trying to comfort you. Trying to be sneaky just makes it more obvious, it's even more odvious when he sneaks snacks to you near your door, like he isn't the first suspect.

"?" He lays his head on your shoulder slowly inching closer. "You look like you're fuming. Did something happen?" "Nothing much just a headache" "I see" you never feel his arms wrapped around while you as you stood next to him, soft hums comming from him.

Makoto tries to hide his affections in public. Limiting it to hand holding or subtle matching things you both had on your person. The fewer people the higher the chance of him taking a small snooze on your shoulder, you end up giving him piggybacks when he does this.

He let's you listen to music with him. At the cost of a small tease. "I wanna listen aswell..." You look away clearly flustered to ask this "and why would my dove want that?" "HUH" you look at him wide eyed seeing him smirk "BRO" "? I thought I was your boyfriend" and back to the straight faced s.e.e.s boy. This was his way of flustering you, calling you a random nickname and then acting like nothing happened, you always reset back to bro when he does this making it even better for him.

He wanders...alot. This guy would get lost in a supermarket and be like "oh I lost them..." and then find you calmly while you'd just panic about where he was. He always appears from nowhere when this happens. "I've looked everywhere jimpei I'm considering going into the fountain..." "you walk so fast" he burries himself into the nape of your neck, "I almost lost you again" you were so lucky jimpei was on the phone and not in person or you two would have never stopped getting teased when you got to school

If you ever wondered about s.e.e.s or ever wondered why he was always so tired, he'd act like he didn't hear you. "So what's s.e.e.s, heard it had something to do with some sorta time thing?" He'd be right next to you. You saw him peak up and just go back to staring into the void seconds later. "I know you heard me" you furrow your brows slightly but he just lays there for a bit moves his hair and then goes "huh?" "UGHHH" you're not getting him to budge

That would be the case if you didn't have a persona he'd still try to pretend he didn't know until you saved him from a few shadows. "How did you get knocked down by wind of all things imagine I blow and you and you get stunned" your persona deals with them easily while you help him up. "So what is this place my princess, my shawty bae, my-" "please...shut up" "nah baby girl you brought this on yourself" he sighs but he did enjoy the free piggy back ride so he pretended the wind hit him THAT hard.

"You're still carrying him around" Yukari cringes "he can barely keep his eyes open tho" "oh he'll live watch this" Yukari turns around "we're gonna go get a sna-" "don't say it infront of jimpei unspelled" he groans nuzzling back into your neck "told ya, get him off your back" easier said than done the guys like those theme park bracelets you'll never get him off. "Yukari let go of me" his voice a bit annoyed "no chance! Come on you gotta walk like the rest of us think of y/ns back!" You got him to walk...but he had to hold your hand and would almost drift off again if you haven't move away everytime you noticed. "Please try to stay awake were almost done" "...." You catch his head "don't lean on me, how about this you can rest once we get back to my room" he suddenly has enough energy to walk without leaning on you.

He loves whenever he goes to your dorm. It always feels so calm in there like some sorta checkpoint. Sometimes he gets there before you already laying there like it was his own room. "Welcome home" "oh minato- wait...howed you get in" "you left the door unlocked" "oh" he tries to use the 'just wanted to study with you excuse' nah the dudes there for every kind of sfw romantic thing you can think of. He's there to be called lover boy unironcally! "Funny how you aren't as sleepy during the night" you move closer to him "you're nocturnal" you joke playfully giving him a small kiss on the cheek. In actuality he had eaten a bunch of candy so he could stay awake with you.

Take him with you everywhere!! If you'd e-mail him about anything related to heading out you don't even have to invite him he'd just magically appear. You don't even have to say WHERE you're going. "How do you always know where I am?" "This place is small"

He'd know what your into without you telling him almost sniffing it out. "I thought you'd like this" he hands you a small gift watching you blush immensely. "Howed you know I liked this kinda stuff" "I figure stuff out quickly" he did have hints though. The way you acted the way you looked at things simular to it. it made it odvious you'd like one of those.

He hides when he's sick always trying to hold back coughs or sneezes he suffers in silence and would prefer it that way. Why? Because the first time he was sick infront of you or anyone else no one wanted to be around him incase it spread. You were willing to of course until Mitsuru put a ban on seeing him for the sake of everyone's health, you still got tests to deal with ya know! So now he just hides it trying to recover quickly. Can't say the same for you though "cough cough! Ah sorry I've had a really bad cold lately" all he needed to hear to have you carried back to your dorm after school. "When we're you able to manhandle me" "please take this" he hands you a small medicine cap expecting you to drink it from there. "It's just a cold" "colds don't have you coughing yourself into orbit for it to just be a casual one" sighing you gulp it down

He'll pretend to not know how to put on his ribbon and ask if you're able to help him. Then turn around pull it off and look at you with a "can you do it again" face. He just likes the way you tie it while you're on the train with him.

Fastest Emailer EVER. You'd think it would take him litteral years since he sometimes leaves people out to dry, according to jinpei, and then he'd respond at the speed of sound to you nearly as fast as the email sends.

You try to pitch his cheeks only to get him to revert to an angry cat. So you've resorted to softer smaller pinches, he dosent mind as much now just don't too it too often or he'll start pinching you too

He may like using yarn with you. Depends on how easy it is though. "What are you making?" "A heart bracelet a girl asked me to make for her and her boyfriend" he reaches for your hand "do you mind if I try this?" "Sure it's in the left drawer" he could barely make the heart at first but as soon as you got a clipboard involved it was a whole diffent story, he was a machine, you didn't know this at the time but you definitely accidently made a yarn bracelet monster. Must have found out they can be made into sp items. That's why there's a lock on the left drawer now, he never opened it without asking its just to keep him from getting ideas, it does the opposite

He has his flirtatious momments, mostly just because he wants to tease you. It starts with a perfectly silent momment, in the classroom when they finally let you sit with him, nearly asleep in a library, on very rare occasions tartarus, he'd smirk and then lock in for the absolute chaos he's about to cause. A simple lean into your ear whispering softly yet clearly "I want a kiss" your eyes would always widen but you'd also respond with a whisper back "now?" Clearly slightly baffled you kiss him on the cheek quickly. Oh but sometimes that isn't enough, sometimes he just wants to see you melt, rubbing his hand on your already flushed cheek he leans in drowsy eyes meeting yours "I want a bit more please" he does enjoy you cupping his face and kissing him. When he does stuff like that you thank the lord the sees memmbers split up or you two are pretty much alone together.

There are times he's tempted to kiss you and then act like he didn't do anything. Cheeks are his favorite you can barely see him comming,*chu*, and now he gets to tease you make you think he never did such a thing "stop kissing me while i study" "wadya mean" "you gotta study focus on that" "i wanna focus on you more" "huh?" Another quick kiss "you did it again" "i dunno what youre talking about" exhaling you kiss him under the eye "lets get back to studying before it gets too late" and then hed lean onto your shoulder. He wants you to catch him more often

"I bought a camera! Let's take a few snaps, just the two of us!, "I don't see why not" holding the camrea steady, you take a picture of the shell he found. *SNAP* a picture of him looking out on the beach. *SNAP* "Why are you taking so many of me?" "I want you to last forever" putting the camrea down and walking toward him, he reaches his hand out. "Oh sure" you give it to him and he holds it up, making sure you're both in frame. *SNAP* a picture with both of you smiling as the sun sets on the beach. Softly looking at your features, his eyes land on ur lips, then cheek, eyes, then back to your cheek again. Smiling to himself, he holds it up again "you mind if we take another?" "Alright" *SNAP* soft lips press your cheek the momment the camera flashes. "You mind if I get another, the picture might be a bit blurry" with a rare smile on his face he pockets the picture. You covering the cheek he had just kissed. "Sure..." still surprised you lean into him smiling as the shyness gets to you. *SNAP* another kiss, happy with the photo he turns to you. "Do you have any plans after this?" "No it's straight to the dorm for me" "perfect" "?"

As you two walk home after changing clothes, he seemed to be more bright than usual as you wondered why, you were happy you got to see him smile like that. "I have something for you" "really? Me too!" "I'll meet you in your room then" hugging you before he leaves to his room to pick up your gift you collect what you had gotten for him, a DVD, a small bag with candies, and a rare jack frost you had won that you've customized to look like him. As soon as he opens the door you try to hide your gifts behind your back. "I can see them" "No you cant" softly giggling to himself he closed the door and gave you a case with a small bag with it. "Well since you've already seen then" you slide over the minato frost with the other things on its lap. "I saw someone do it on the internet and wanted to make one of you..." averting his eyes afraid he may not like it. He grabs its hands, then it's crocheted hair "it looks just like me" he pulls its cheeks. "And this is what I got for you" giving you the case and small bag. You decide to open the case first. Inside was a pair of headphones and a music player the same model as his. "How'd you know I wanted one?" "You eye mine alot, so I just figured" without much thought, you kissed his cheek "I don't know if I could put into words how thankful I am" You kiss him again. Excitedly, you open the small bag, revealing a bunch of stickers. "I wanted to decorate this with you if you don't mind" "I don't see why not" you excitedly put the sticker on his face then the case almost 5 stickers later his face again. "You look so cute with them all over you" "right back at you" giggling at his joke, you cover the player carefully in stickers with him. He even showed you how he put his music onto them.

Eventually what nearly always happens when he's in your room happens, his soft eyes flutter shut while laying on your bed the frost that looks just like him in hand. *SNAP* *SNAP* the opportunity was just too good to pass up, one for you and one for him to wake up to. You lay next to him moving his hair as to see both eyes. "Sweet dreams" your eyes grow heavy as they close. Days were sweet after that though you did notice him being a bit more busy, you didn't even notice when January ended, and he was nowhere to be seen. You asked most of the people you knew that spoke to him but they just ended up near teary eyed or near unable to say a word about it. "He's in a coma" Jinpei finally is able to croak out, "we don't know what happened to him" you feel your heart drop at his words, near running to the hospital after school and laying by his side. He looked so peaceful, you'd wonder what he was experiencing. Holding his hand for what seemed like it could be the final time you left, it felt a bit scary walking home without him with you.

You put on the music player he gave you, all covered in stickers he helped you put on. "Burn my dread...full moon full life...memmories of-" you hault finding yourself at the dorm, you go in, putting your hands in your pocket, reminding you of him, accidently touching his spare key he gave you, your mind suddenly asked you to go into his room. It felt like snooping, but the thought just wouldn't let you go. Opening the door, you find something on his desk, a letter along with a few pictures. "I may have forgotten to ask someone to give this to you, but I hope it someday reaches you, I'm writing this just in case something bad happens to me, I'm gonna miss seeing you when I wake up and waking up before you. All those candies I ate from you because I wanted to stay up late, all the times I've gotten free piggyback rides around town. I'm gonna miss you above all. I'm sorry I took your camera" getting to that part you look at the pictures on the desk one of him sleeping with the frost you made him, one of you trying on his sees uniform. "To be fair you already seen most of them, I just thought that if anything happened you'd want some of me" scattering them multiple pictures of him trying on your accessories, pictures of him smiling widely at your favorite places, pictures of him trying diffrent hairstyles. "I've bought a replacement film in advance, if you need to you can take my jacket and the mako-frost. They'll keep you warm" You look at more pictures, pictures of you and him, the kiss at the beach, you napping on him, a picture of you crocheting. "If push comes to shove, don't forget about me, keep living on, Makoto ps: thanks for letting me get this close to you"

[neobomb]

give into things i (dont) want to [na jaemin]

academic rival! (yandere ish) prev! big ego!Jaemin x  reader, hints of library worker!math major!Jungwoo x reader Part of the give into things i (dont) want to series. Warnings: mature themes, toxic/inappropriate behaviour, masterbation, forcing??, implied slut shaming, MDNI, there will be smut in part 2 Word Count: 2.2k Summary: You learn about academic rival!Jaemin's biggest secret. © 2023 @neobomb. Unauthorized copying, translation, manipulation, or alteration of this work is strictly prohibited. All rights reserved.

Jaemin never viewed it as a competition, the rivalry between you and him. It wasn't about outdoing you. More than anything, he yearned for your attention. With time, he faced a truth he couldn't escape: he was deeply, hopelessly in love with you. He adored that confident smirk you'd wear whenever you believed you had the upper hand. The way you'd toss your hair back as you raced to claim your favorite study spot in the library, ensuring he couldn't get there first. Something about you got him filled with excitement. 

But for you, every interaction was tinged with rivalry. You hate him so much. With his stoic façade and that penetrating, icy stare, he stood apart. You've always had a distaste for those who appeared too perfect, and Jaemin epitomized that to a tee. Not only was he the top student at your school, but he was also incredibly handsome, rich and popular. The young boy wants to be a surgeon when he grows up. It's almost laughably cliché, like a scene from a cheesy rom-com. Boys wanted to be him, girls wanted to be his. 

Senior year of high school was poised to be the most pivotal year of your lives. The first significant exam loomed just after your 18th birthday. You don't regret skipping your birthday celebration, as securing the top score and outperforming Jaemin took precedence in your mind. It’s more important to stay on top, you thought to yourself.

You’re sitting at your favorite spot in the library, a secluded spot framed by expansive windows. You love to sit there because it's hidden and private. The sun rays from the windows fall on your cheeks, as you tap your pen lightly on your notebook. You stare intensely at a specific problem from a past lecture. 

“To tackle this problem, one common approach is to use the residue theorem. Consider the contour that is a semicircle in the upper half-plane, C, which is composed of the real line segment from −R to R and the semicircular arc of radius R in the upper half-plane, where R is a large positive real number.” You turned around, confronted by the insufferable smirk you knew all too well. Jaemin is standing right behind you with his hands behind his back.

“Nice try, Jaemin. I don’t need help from a pretentious prick like you.” You refocus on your problem sheet, doing your utmost to block out his irksome presence. 

“You just looked like you were struggling so much.” You brush off his comments. They hold no weight for you now. He'd thrown every insult at you, calling you every name in the book, and over time, you learned not to take them to heart. It was wiser to remain unfazed by the persistent negativity, or at the very least, to appear so. 

“I’m not listening to whatever you’re trying to say.” You slipped your headphones back on, signaling your intent to shut him out.

"Well, happy late birthday, loser." he remarks before retreating to his usual spot. He always chooses the table adjacent to yours, separated by a sizable bookshelf that obstructs his line of sight. But he'd subtly shift a few books, creating small gaps that allowed him to sneak glimpses of you, desperately hoping that you wouldn’t catch him in the act. He could observe you engrossed in your studies for hours on end. 

You have always been really pretty. Sometimes, when you would scratch your legs, making your skirt ride up higher, or when you would unbutton your shirt low enough for your cleavage to be exposed, he would unbuckle his pants, bring out his painfully hard dick, and jerk off to the sight of your delicate body like no tomorrow. He would only be able to bring himself to do such sinful acts in the late hours when only you and he remained in the library. 

Occasionally, when you would step away to use the restroom, Jaemin would quickly approach your desk and steal some of your personal items, ensuring he discreetly returned them to easily spotted locations the very next day. His favorite item to steal would be your cherry flavored chapstick. You never thought it was odd how your personal items would vanish, only to reappear by the base of your desk the following day. 

It was embarrassing to him, truly. It felt pathetic to be so smitten with someone who calls him a loser, an arrogant snob, someone who would likely never see him in a romantic light. 

-

For as long as Jaemin had been aware of you, you'd mostly been a solitary figure, steering clear of the limelight. A complete loner. During breaks, Mr. Johnny Suh from English Literature appeared to be your sole confidante, as you eagerly exchanged thoughts about your recent reads. Your eyes always lit up with passion when discussing a book's turning points. Occasionally, Jaemin would interject himself into your discussions, eager to catch your gaze. "Such a teacher's pet," you'd silently muse whenever he did that.

But recently, Jaemin noticed a new figure entering your orbit. Your growing closeness with the new library employee, Kim Jungwoo, had him curious about its origins. Jungwoo, a math major from the town's renowned university, and coincidentally good friends with Jaemin’s older brother, Jaehyun.

Always working the closing shifts, Jungwoo often assisted you with your math homework. In return, you'd stay late to help him tidy the bookshelves. Jungwoo, the comedian that he is, often left you bursting into giggles with his endless jokes. On occasions when you felt uneasy walking home alone, Jungwoo offered to walk you home, even though his apartment was on the opposite side of town.

It was clear that it all enraged him extremely. Jaemin is extremely jealous. He detested how Jungwoo would sit beside you in the library to help you with your homework, obstructing his view of you through the gaps of the bookshelf. Jungwoo would keep an eye on your desk whenever you had to use the bathroom.

—

Jungwoo had invited you over to his apartment for dinner, and you presumed it was a date. Your excitement was palpable. Over the recent months, you had developed a crush on him. He was the epitome of a gentleman, brilliantly intelligent, humble and undeniably attractive. Always, treating you with the utmost respect. 

As you neared what you believed to be his door, you quickly check your reflection in a compact mirror, touching up your makeup and hair for the hundredth time. Taking a deep breath, you then pressed his doorbell. 

In a swift moment, his door opened wide. "Y/N, you're right on time." Jungwoo greets you with a smile, ushering you into his apartment and gently shutting the door behind you.

"I brought your favorite snacks," you mentioned, just as he enveloped you in a warm embrace. 

As the evening unfolded, you and Jungwoo conversed for hours on a myriad of topics. He cocooned you in blankets and played your favorite tunes. Yet, you sensed something amiss with him; he appeared somewhat distant, as though something weighed on his mind.

“I feel like you’re holding back on something. Something that’s bothering you.” you voiced, attempting to diffuse the palpable tension. 

“I’m all ears. You can tell me anything.” You remind him. He scratches his head before taking a deep breath. 

“There is something I’ve been meaning to tell you. The exact reason why I asked you to come over.” He starts. “Since people have been complaining about lost items at the library, I was assigned to watch over some security footage…” He paused, letting the silence stretch.

“And?” you prompted, eager for him to proceed. “It’s Jaemin… I watched him beat his dick to you on the security footage… I think…” You're completely taken aback. The words don't seem to compute. Surely, you would have noticed if anything of the sort had occurred. You simply did not believe what you’re hearing. 

“I’m not totally sure since the footage is not of the best quality… But it seems like he’s watching you in between gaps of books on the bookshelf… And it would happen often, like… every other day and it would only happen when you’re there.” Jungwoo continued. He finally meets your gaze. The depth of concern in his eyes reveals just how troubled he is by the situation.

“There is also footage of him stealing your items whenever you leave your desk.” You had often pondered why, since spending time with Jungwoo at the library, your items never went missing or were left behind like it always did previously. 

“I never had the opportunity to tell you this because I always felt like he was watching us. Sorry for not telling you about this earlier.” He pulls his arms around you in a comforting hug. 

“Please, Y/N. Be careful. I can help you get a restraining order on him. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Your face is buried in his chest. 

“Jaemin can be dangerous, especially if his ego gets hurt. I've known him since he was just a baby in diapers. Please trust me, Y/N.” Although uncertainty lingers about the whole situation, you trust Jungwoo. You take him at his word, believing he has no reason to deceive you.

—

It's been two weeks since you discovered Jaemin's unsettling perverted behavior. The library hasn't seen you since; the memories are just too unnerving. At school, you stopped talking to Mr. Suh. You refuse to put yourself in any situation that might lead to an encounter with Jaemin. Instead, you've done your best to sidestep him, believing it to be the wisest course of action for the time being. Hopefully it will keep you safe for now. 

It did not take long for Jaemin to pick up on the unusual habits of yours. Jaemin's anger is palpable. Something prompted your avoidance, and he's had his suspicions from the start. In his mind, it had to be because of Jungwoo. Who did Jungwoo think he was, effortlessly pulling you closer while Jaemin, ever so impeccable, felt sidelined despite harboring feelings for you all these years? It all seemed too orchestrated. He has to do something about it, he thinks and lets his anger completely take over. 

As you make your way home from school, nearing a narrow alleyway, a sudden sound catches your attention: "Why haven't you been at the library? Struggling to keep up with me?" Jaemin's voice caught you off guard as he stood casually in front of you, hands nestled in his pockets. Nervously, you tugged away your earphones, a look of unease evident on your face. The library had always been your sanctuary. Jaemin couldn't help but wonder if Jungwoo was the reason for your absence. 

"I... um... I have somewhere… uhm… to be," you stammered, attempting to move past him, but he obstructed your exit, moving awfully close to you. 

“Why have you been so nervous lately? You’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you?.” Jaemin says with an amused smile. ”You’ve always called me names. Pretending to be so cool. Now you can’t even look at me without shaking to your core.” he continues.

“It’s Jungwoo isn’t it? You like to play innocent but you’re not. You like playing around with older guys, don’t you Y/N? I wouldn’t be surprised if you tried to shoot your shot with mr. Suh." Jaemin's voice pierces the silence, sending a chill down your spine. "I... I don't know what you mean… We’re just friends." you respond, your voice betraying a hint of panic.

“You’re the worst liar, Y/N.” he says he pins you to the brick wall, holding a tight grip on your wrist. Jealousy was written all over his face. “Jaemin, please. What are you doing?” you plead to him. Terror gripped you. The menacing darkness in his eyes seemed to penetrate your very soul.

Jaemin swiftly put his lips on yours, pulling you into a deep and lustful kiss. Tears wells your eyes as you desperately try to release yourself from his strong grip. This feels wrong. So wrong.

Jaemin pulls back from the kiss to search your eyes. He recognizes that expression instantly - the look of defeat. The anguish that twisted your expression only seemed to fuel his satisfaction. He could tell he was causing discomfort, and your reactions confirmed it for him.

He goes in for another lustful kiss to then break away from it again. Jaemin sought your gaze, firmly grasping your face until you were compelled to meet his self-assured, lustful eyes. With each passing moment, his sense of relief grew, sensing your surrender. He could feel the weight of your defeat and the shame of realizing you were powerless against it. This was it. He had you exactly where he wanted you. Perhaps it had been a competition all along, and he had emerged victorious.

[rileyglas]

The List ~Pt. 11 - Compromise~

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Reader

Summary: In a tense meeting with Lucifer to discuss repayment for saving your life, his request pushes the boundaries of what you were prepared to offer. As the conversation unfolds, more unsettling truths about Alastor's soul contract are revealed. The deal leaves you struggling with the daunting terms of repayment.

Themes: The usual angst, mystery, sassiness, cursing, fluff, actual plot, slow burn, Lucifer is in Hell for a reason, eventual smut, and of course 18+

3.9k Words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5  Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.A Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 (You're on it!) Part 12

**sentences in italics are internal thoughts of the reader

“I really don’t think you should be going alone. You’re still weak from -” “I’m fine.” you snap at Alastor, for the hundredth time of the morning. Slamming your book closed, you swing to the edge of the bed. Lucifer’s portal was sure to open any minute now and you still needed to put shoes on. You reach for your heels, but bending at such an angle makes you hiss from the single wound still healing on your lower stomach, “F-fuck - of all places…”

A sigh comes from behind before Alastor appears kneeling in front of you, “Allow me.” He places your foot on his thigh, gently helping set it into the heel. His fingers tease up your leg as presses his lips against your knee, “You still haven’t told me your plans for the King. Should I be worried you will not be returning?” he slides your other heel on, repeating the same erotic affections. 

Your hand combs through his hair before sliding down to hook under his chin, “You think you can be rid of me that easily?” Though playful, there is a hint of seriousness in your voice. Is he actually scared I’d stay with Lucifer after everything? He leans into you, using a hand to brace the back of your head as he lays you back onto the bed. His smile is soft, corners curved under half-lidded eyes. 

If you could freeze this moment you would. Any anxiety or worries seem to disappear when he looks at you like this - holding you like you’re his most precious piece of glass. It’s strange to think such a ruthless demon one day, could look and feel like Heaven the next. Your face flushes feeling his warmth above you, “A-Alastor?”

He flutters the tip of his nose across your cheek and down your neck until his lips press against your collar bone. He breathes you in as if it were the last time he’d take in your scent, “Please come back…” he exhales into your skin, sending a chill down your spine. Your hands cup his face to gently bring his lips back to yours, “I’ll always come back to you.” you breathe before kissing him. A tear falls down your temple from the rush of emotion his embrace gives. I never thought this feeling could be possible…especially with someone like him… Alastor reluctantly pulls away, flashing a smirk, “Maybe I should just leave a reminder for Lucifer -” he dips his head into the crook of your neck. His teeth graze your skin, “Don’t even think about it!” you giggle as you push the demon off before he can take a bite. He scoffs, grabbing at his chest in a dramatic show of being hurt, “How dare you deprive me of such fun, dear.” You playfully smack his shoulder and stand up from the bed. As expected, a round portal appears in the center of the room. Your hand finds Alastor’s, giving it a reassuring squeeze, “I’ll be back shortly, I promise.” With a half-hearted smile you let go and hop through into a large living room, the portal closing quickly behind you. The second it closes a part of you feels…empty? You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to calm the feeling but it is intense enough to make you queasy. The fuck? I didn’t feel this last time I came here. “Hello? Lucifer?” you call out. The room is dimly lit by candles hanging on the walls. Only a few chairs and small tables sit around you. The air feels different than it does back at the hotel. Colder. “I’ll admit when I said come alone, I half expected him to still try and slip in with you.” a voice says calmly from behind you. Turning you see Lucifer sitting, cross-legged, in a large armchair. His usual ‘dressy’ appearance was replaced by a half-buttoned shirt, rolled sleeves, and bare hooves under his slacks. His relaxed look is surprising but also draws you in. He knew I was coming. If this is him trying to lure me, it isn’t working…okay maybe a little. 

You clear your throat, realizing how dry your mouth suddenly became, “He respects my wishes. I asked him to stay back.” He scoffs at the idea. With one foot (hoof?) he hooks and moves a chair directly in front of him. You take a seat without hesitation. The unsettling sickness burning in your stomach is starting to make you feel hot. Your eyes meet as you shift to cross your own legs, mirroring his position.

“Are you feeling alright? You look like you’re about to pass out.” 

You shake your head, “I - I don’t know. The moment I got here…well honestly it’s probably just nerves. Things got pretty intense yesterday.” He hums through a smirk, “Yeah I suppose it did. Though I would guess by how he acted, you and him have made a very close connection. One that will not traverse the distance of where this palace sits. Your body is probably feeling the effects of being removed from his presence and power.” That’s why he wanted to see me alone - on his own terms. 

You shake out your hands and try to steady your breathing. This plan has to go without issue. Being overly anxious will only hinder that. “You wanted to speak on how I can repay you for helping me. What did you have in mind?” you clasp your hands together over your crossed knees, leaning towards him to appear confident and open. “Well what I want and what you’re willing to give are two vastly different things. I told you already, your power is something unusual for Hell. Comparable to a Heavenborn Angel. And with him it shines even brighter. But I can’t allow such power to grow and threaten the hierarchy of my domain, as I’m sure you can understand.” he leans forward, challenging your space. “I told you, I’m not interest-” “But he is.“ he sneers, “From where I sit, you have two options. The first is you stand by me. You’ll live here and break your connection with him. You were a leader on Earth - and a damned good one from what I saw. Hell would benefit greatly from having you as my right hand.” You feel your throat tighten and your back straightens, “How - How do you know about my life on Earth?”

A dark chuckle leaves his throat matching the grin plastered across his face, “I have my ways. Shame how it all ended for you. Of course, being a lone survivor, it might have driven you mad knowing you lost everyone who ever meant anything to you. Knowing you couldn’t save any of them.” “Stop.” you whisper through your teeth. 

His smile widens, “Do you still mourn for them? Or do you envy them? They obviously were taken in with open arms to Heaven yet here you are, suffering in the pits of Hell.” 

You bolt up from your chair, “Fuck! Enough! What are you trying to get at!?” Your teary eyes glare down at his smug expression. He wanted to get a rise out of you and knew exactly which buttons to press. 

“You have a chance to save souls here. To help Charlie. To keep the most vile of demons from harming - ” You slam your hands against the arms of his chair, caging his body under yours, “Cut the ‘all mighty’ shit. You don’t actually care about those sinners and their souls. You only care to protect Charlie and your precious rule. So option one isn’t an option. Next.” your voice cuts sharply through the room, echoing off the walls.

His eyes wander your face. You start to feel the heat of frustration burning under your cheeks and neck. The once smug smile on Lucifer’s face drops to a dark glare, “You plan on helping release him from his contract, don’t you?” Is that rage I hear boiling? If he’s already pissed I’m not going to hold back.

“Does the idea of his freedom scare you, your Highness? Do you fear his full power and what I can help him achieve?” you hiss, moving close enough to see his hair flutter under your breath. He should be irate by now. His ego has taken enough hits to push him over the edge from such disrespectful behavior of a sinner. So why is he looking at me with admiration?

His fingers trace up your jaw and hook behind your neck. Your heart jumps into your throat at his sudden warmth. Keeping his hold, he slowly stands from his chair. Though infamously teased to be a ‘short king’ by those around the hotel, he still held a few inches over you, and right now you felt like a mere ant under his gaze. “Fiery, strong, dauntless. It appears he has a type, as do I. It’s just unfortunate he’s now fooled a woman of such power for a second time.” he whispers. The heart which pounded in your throat plummets into your stomach. He hums disapprovingly, “He still hasn’t told you everything, has he?” You shake your head, unease creeping up your spine. 

He tightens his fingers around you, silently commanding your attention to remain on him. His other hand moves to rest in the same place on the opposite side. “He fooled her a long time ago. She watched his sudden rise over the sinners in the city. He smoothly talked his way into making her believe he had the same aspirations, that he’d help her in the rise of Hell. She knew with the boost of her power, he could overthrow me and encouraged it, thinking I had lost my ability to be the ruthless leader she wanted me to be.” Your legs grow weak. You feel yourself stumble back into your chair. He follows you closely, kneeling to not break his hold or the locked in stare he has on you. “She learned he wanted Hell all to himself. He lied and played her like a pawn in his sick game. She used her influence over the most powerful of demons to corner him, nearly tearing his soul apart and making him beg for his life. He agreed to a soul contract to save himself and his power.”

An involuntary deep breath makes your chest heave. Your mind races, unsure how much you should believe. Is he so prideful he would fabricate such a story to persuade you to his side? There’s bound to be some truth but how much? He notices your reeling behind clouded eyes, “When they both disappeared I just assumed they ran off together to plan their overtaking of Hell but, when he returned without her…I didn’t know what to think. At least until he showed up on Charlie’s doorstep offering his help. That’s when I knew she sent him, like a dog, to keep an eye on things. But now he has you. His second chance to finish what he started.”

You shake your head and try to speak but your voice comes out as a mere squeak, “He’s changed. He cares about Char-” “He only cares about himself.” he whispers with confidence, “Once he’s free he will waste no time in getting rid of Charlie…and enslaving you to maintain power.” His words make tears build behind your eyes. You fight to keep them there, wanting to still go through with your initial plan. You can’t lose composure now. Your shoulders pull back and you stiffen your neck in an attempt to hide the walls shattering in your head, “Then what is my second option?” Lucifer retracts his hands from your face and rests them on your knees. His beautiful angelic features harden. You watch the corner of his mouth twitch as if trying to hold back a smile and his eyes begin to take on a red hue. There’s the Devil I’ve been looking for. “I cannot touch him right now due to the terms of his contract with Lilith. And God forbid I harm Charlie’s precious hotelier. It would be quite the controversy for me, the King, to put such blood on my hands. But you…” he finally allows his toothy smile to widen, “...you can take care of him with ease. He trusts you, allows you closer than anyone. And no one would question an Overlord taking out competition.” 

“W-What do you mean? You want me to do your dirty work?” you play dumb, knowing damn well what he was asking. It is exactly what you expected from him. He rubs circles on the inside of your knees, attempting to be soothing but his touch only makes your skin burn under the fabric of your pants. “You’re indebted to me. And if you will not join me, I believe a deal for mine and Charlie’s safety is only fair. You keep that demon of yours under control…or you will end him. Simple as that.” You keep your eyes down mulling over his offer. Your fingers find his hand and trace the lines in his palm, “And if I do neither?” you say plainly and snap back to his face, relishing in the devious flash in his eyes. 

“You know what happens if you go against such a deal. In the end, he is either kept under control or dies…otherwise your soul will be shredded in his place. He is strong, but without extra help, his power is limited. Lilith will not help him. And if your soul is destroyed, well…he can’t use you any further, either.”

Okay slightly different deal than initially planned. “And if I refuse this deal all together?” He moves closer to you, forcing himself between your legs. You feel his lips glide over your neck and to your ear, “If you wish to return to your precious demon and hotel, you will make this deal. I will keep you here for as long as it takes to - “ his hands move up your thighs and dig into your hips, “ - persuade you. Your choice.” Shit shit shit shit, I didn’t plan on being backed into a corner.

“No -” You stand abruptly, nearly knocking the King over. He recovers and stands over you annoyed by the brash response. “No?” he mocks before slowly wrapping his hand around your throat. There isn’t pressure but he uses his hold to push you back, staring like a lion about to pounce. You follow his guidance until backing into a wall. A whimper leaves you from the sudden thud. “Then you will remain here, like a pet. I still get what I want - you’re somewhere he can never find you. Who knows, maybe you’ll learn to love me as much as you claim to love him.” his grip tightens as he leans his body into you. He presses his lips forcefully against your head then hovers them above yours, “What is your choice dear?” he breathes. You shove him away, “Fine. I will make sure he doesn’t become a threat to you or Charlie.” you hold your hand out to seal the deal. He hesitates but takes a step towards you, “And you will ensure he doesn’t become too powerful - or you will kill him. And if you fail…well…it would be a shame for such a beautiful soul like yours to be sacrificed for someone so vile.” He takes your hand as his horns burst through his skull and fire starts to surround him. Fuck this is bad. “D-deal.”

A bright red light flashes from your entwined hands and radiates throughout the room. Large red chains burst from the floor to wrap around your wrists. Another tightly winds around your neck, the immense weight makes you stumble in place. The entire room seems to shake and crack with rays of pink and red from the sheer power between you. I should have guessed a deal with the Devil would be stronger than anything.

After a moment, the chains dissipate into thin air and the room gradually dims. You drop Lucifer’s hand, “I want to leave. Now.” you command loudly, holding back tears once again. He puffs out his chest and bows dramatically, “As you wish, my dear.” A portal opens to your right but before you can step through a hand catches your arm, his voice returning to its honey smooth tone “Please - at least think on my first offer. This doesn’t have to end in death. If you choose to stand by me, I will break the contract.” He yanks your body back into his. You look up to see his eyes back to their dull yellow, wide and pleading, and - are those tears? “Don’t make the same mistakes she did.” his voice breaks before placing a kiss on your cheek and pushing you backwards through the portal. 

The moment you feel your back hit the wooden floor of your room the portal closes. You lay completely still for a moment, ensuring no one was around, before covering your face to release the built up sobs you’ve kept in your throat. No, this is okay. This will work. I have to have trust in him. I have to maintain trust in us. Rule #4 T̴̡͗ǘ̴͚ṟ̵͒n̸̛̤ ̵̫̿y̷̢̍ỏ̷̭ȕ̷͕r̶̥̾ ̶̫̃w̴̗͊e̴̊ͅa̵̘͠ḱ̴̢n̸͕̒e̷̯̒s̴̠̏s̷͖̿ ̵͍̏ī̴͇n̴̊ͅṭ̸̔ö̴̼́ ̸̥̏s̵͓͛ẗ̴̖́ṛ̵͘e̷̗͑n̸̯̿g̷̣̑t̴̪̀ḩ̶̈́ Tears flood your face through muffled wails. For once you’re grateful Alastor isn’t in the room - isn’t there to bear witness to your pathetic display.

You knew someone owned Alastor’s soul. You knew Lucifer would ask you to kill Alastor, or at least keep him from becoming too powerful. You knew he would fight to force the deal.  So why do you now feel like you’ve made the biggest mistake? Going in you had the idea Alastor would do anything for you. He promised to give you his soul in return for breaking his chains. But if he had the gall to do this to Lilith…who is to say he isn’t trying to fool me as well? All for the sake of getting what he wants. Did he make her fall in love with him too? Did he say the same things -

“What happened!?” a distressed voice pulls you back to the room. Between crying and being lost in thought you didn’t hear the Radio Demon make his way into the room. You don’t move at his question. He looks down to you and offers a hand which you ignore. “Is this any different than before?” the words squeak out through your silent cries. Any filter you have had in the past is gone. You want answers and right now, you didn’t care how insane you sounded. Alastor cocks an eyebrow, hand still reaching for you, “W-What are you talking about dear? Why are you on the floor? Did he hurt - “ “Lilith…did you tell her the same things you’ve told me…did you pretend to love her just to use her?” Your voice is hoarse and airy. Through your tears you see him open his mouth but no words come out. You wipe your face once more and sit up to bring your knees to your chest. “He told me everything, Alastor. Or at least what he thought would turn me against you. And I won’t lie, he was pretty convincing.” He takes a long, shaky breath as his cane and jacket are tossed to the bed. You feel him kneel next to you, his large hand stroking your hair, “You know I cannot tell you the terms of my contract. I have told you before, I’ve never been what most consider a ‘good man’. I’ve enacted heinous things for the sake of entertainment and committed even worse atrocities to get what I wanted. Both in this life and the last. She was no exception.” His voice is eerily calm, not a hint of emotion in his words. 

The tears you thought would never stop suddenly go dry. Any sign of emotion leaves your face. You slide your knees under you and turn to look at him face to face. He physically recoils seeing the instant switch of your demeanor. The Radio Demon always made it a point to appear fearless and would never let anyone think otherwise. But right now he looks at you, wide eyed, as if you have the power to shatter him completely. Good, he needs to know how serious this is…Rule #2: D̴̩̈́ǫ̶͂n̷̞̈́’̴̈ͅt̵̋͜ ̵̳͆b̴̹̕e̷̤͝ ̶̥̑a̷̯̅f̷̫͊r̴̖̾a̶̳͒i̷̫͗d̶̛̥ ̴̢̂ṱ̷͊o̵̦̔ ̷̘̒s̷͖̕h̶̭̎ó̶͉w̵̨̌ ̵̘̄y̶̑͜o̸̭̓ụ̸͠r̴̟͗ ̷͖̊p̷̩̄o̴̯͒w̶̭̿e̸͉̽r̵͍̓

“You lied and used her for your own gain. In doing so you paid the price with your soul. Do the same to me, and you will lose more than that.” Your eyes darken to him with your sharp words. Could I really kill him? If he hurt Charlie? If he hurt me? Rule #3:K̷̩͝e̸͎̎ḙ̸̚p̷̯̋ ̷̻͗t̸̪̑h̵̞̎o̸̖͝s̵̭͗e̵͔͋ ̸͜͝ÿ̸̥ŏ̵͉ű̴̢ ̶̭̀l̸̞̾ŏ̷̲ṽ̵͉e̷̯͝ ̷͈͝c̶͔̑l̵̛͚o̸͕͆s̸̩̐ẻ̵̼  “I might have chosen to trust you but I did not choose to love you. That was out of my control. The only thing I can control is our future here. We either play by his rules or one of us will burn.” There is only one true option on who that will be. I just hope I don’t have to make that decision. He stares at you, speechless. Seeing such a cold side to someone who never emitted anything but warmth was jarring. It finally clicks what this is all about. You watch the fear creep across his face, “You made a soul deal with him?” he asks barely audible through his quickening breath.

“He wouldn’t have let me come back if I hadn’t. I made a promise to you, didn’t -” His arms fling around you before you can finish, nearly knocking all the air out of your lungs. He clings desperately to you and buries his face into your neck, “I won’t let him take you from me. I don’t care about the conditions. I will find a way to free you of him.” he mumbles into your skin. You press a kiss to his temple, “I fear there isn’t a way out of this one dear. Not without consequence.” 

“But I made a deal with -”

He is interrupted by a loud knock at the door. Angel pops his head in apprehensively, “Hey uh - Charlie has something she wants to show everyone. It’s about the Exorcists. S’pretty important.” 

You call back to him, “Thank you, we will be right down.” Your attention turns back to Alastor who now stands over you, jacket back on and cane in hand, “This situation will unfortunately have to be put aside. Right now we need to focus on how to handle the upcoming fight with Heaven. And you have much to catch up on.” He helps pull you back to your feet and offers his arm, “Shall we?”

You roll your eyes but take his arm to head downstairs. Though the deal weighs heavily on your shoulders, he is right. With only a few weeks before Extermination Day, you’re going to need all your wit and strength to prepare for the battle to come. For now, you can only hold onto hope that he won’t force your hand in following through with your deal.

Rule #1: B̶̤̉é̸̢ ̶̟̋ó̵͉p̸̩͌ḛ̶̿n̶̛͖ ̸̛͈ẗ̴͇́ŏ̶̗ ̷͍̕t̷̺̓ŕ̸͖u̸͚̽s̵̢̕t̴͕̆,̴̛̙ ̴͍̌b̴̖̈́ủ̷͉t̸͍͒ ̷̫̅n̴̚ͅẻ̴͖v̷̮̅ě̵̫r̵̫̓ ̴̲̐d̶͚͐o̵̭̒ ̴̲͌s̵̒ͅo̶̜͗ ̶͕͒b̵͔̈l̶̦͒ĩ̸̻ṋ̵͗d̶͖͝ļ̴̔y̶͖͂

Tag List (Let me know if you would like to be added!)

@rl800 @fairyv-ice @looking1016 @martinys-world @sirens-and-moonflowers 

@alastorssimp @alastorsgirl48 @mysterisumone @ohnah2022 @catticora

@eris-norwega @kaylopolis @littlebluefishtail @little-slyvixen @laudrawin 

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@iheartalastor

[aliensupersyn]

Gege Contradicted Himself, but That's What Makes 261 Perfect

Gege's first author's note in jjk, made in jjk volume 1: "The other day, I saw a video of myself laughing hysterically. I was a little taken aback by how demonic I looked... I hope you enjoy that type of person's first graphic novel."

Keep this image in mind during this reading. I will com back to this.

TLDR: Yuta's character was based on love and being blessed because of it, but his nature leads him to discarding his humanity and wearing his teacher's corpse. Yuta's care for his friends lead him to discarding his humanity in order to protect them. Yuta once again proves Uraume correct: fear marks humans and holds them back, and only those who can let it go can ascend to something greater.

Yuta and Harmonious Love

This specific section is from an older analysis of Yuta in comparison to Sukuna. The original post is linked below!

Sukuna represents isolation and lovelessness. Uro warned Yuta that for him to gain power and transcend, discarding love and becoming a calamity would be an inevitable step in his path. Yet, Yuta disagreed and regards himself as being blessed.

There are two main implications to Yuta's blessed distinction:

Yuta's willingness to love and be loved makes him blessed.

The use of the word "blessed" directly juxtaposes Sukuna, who is called the disgraced one.

Just after Ryu says he doesn't understand why he's blessed, Yuta continues with the plan he and his friends made to save Tsumiki.

Gege uses Yuta and Rika to represent an idea of harmonious, mutual love via wedding motifs. To activate his true power where he harmonizes with Rika, Yuta dons a ring on his fourth finger, which is commonly considered the finger for a wedding band. His domain expansion has even more wedding themes that accentuate this motif.

Yuta's power comes directly from his love for his friends and Rika. It's unquestionable and true; Gege uses Yuta to show an idea of true love rooted in adolescent bonds. While he and Rika were only kids when they promised to marry one another, Yuta felt so powerfully about this promise that it still affects him years later.

Uro's warning to Yuta was useless, because his true power relies on love. Yuta can't "awaken" any kind of powerup that would force his story to resemble Sukuna's or become a calamity in the same way as him. Sukuna's loveless nature directly contradicts the source of Yuta's power. Yuta will not become a calamity like Sukuna because it contradicts his story's foundation and the literal source of his power. (edit: see section below)

Uro's comments reveal that somehow, and at some point, Sukuna's growth caused him to cast away his "humanity" and become a calamity.

Yuta and Rika's love boosted her power so much that even Sukuna refers to her as the Queen of Curses, in recognition of her strength.

Uraume distinguishes a human from whatever they represent. When they acknowledge Hakari’s powerful reverse cursed technique as being above Gojo and Sukuna, Uraume no longer sees him as human. Not only is it Hakari’s rct that makes Uraume respect him, but also his willingness to sacrifice his body to fight. The ascension, or change, that Uraume describes requires both power and the will to use it.

What Changed in 261

Hakari's reference to Yuta in the page above was finally addressed in 261. Yuta has that hunger to reach the heights of Gojo, or a least, we will see in 262.

The hunger that Sukuna preaches describes his own ideology of power and what it takes to be powerful.

To defeat a villain, a story also has to address their ideologies. So far, Sukuna's monstrous ideology has all but won. Each of the main four in Shinjuku has abandoned their humanity, in accordance to Uraume's argument:

Maki slaughtered her family in the name of freedom.

Hakari's willingness to destroy his body and let go of fear and simply trust in his rct to fight.

Yuji's appearance slowly shifting into mirroring Sukuna (we have yet to see the outcome of this).

Yuta discarding his humanity and wearing his sensei's body in order to fight Sukuna.

Gege has taken the idea of maturation and growth, something usually positive and humane, and has flipped it. In JJK, maturation for the main four means cleaving away their humanity and letting part of themselves go in a condemning narrative about the tragedy of youth. In the first author's note, Gege describes a time when there was laughter, but all he saw was a demonic visage; there's a metaphor here about narrative perspective and duality. Growth in JJK ironically means cutting parts of yourself away. Laughter flipped to something evil, maturation flipped to becoming a monster.

The Blessed One has become a walking corpse. Has Yuta become disgraced as well?

Notes:

Original post that the first section comes from.

Those Hakari pages were bothering me for SO LONG. I hate you Gege, this was all a deliberate plot to piss me off.

I could really go on with my own ideas about how maturation really does involve consciously letting so much of yourself go, but that's not what this post is about lmao.

[sealofarchives]

Oneshot scenario: Merfolk!reader with the turtles (separate)

Just something for a mermay themed prompt while trying to think of other stuff to write

Warnings: the slight mention of drowning (just a brief topic again nothing too graphic)

(I forgot the exact concept art picture from one of the scrapped episodes where Mikey went all out for a mermaid costume for a distraction but, surprisingly it helped while trying to brainstorm ideas for the other scenarios lol)

Soupful Confessions

In the lair, close to the living room...

You were about take another spoonful of clam chowder soup. While your fish tail sat on one of the steps a surface level in a large aquarium tank filled with water. You placed the soup bowl by the makeshift table beside you. Then swam towards the box shell turtle pacing around a few distance away from the tank.

Before you could ask, Mikey immediately squeaked startled by your sudden appearance.

"Oh (Y/N)! Was the soup okay?"

"Mikey, I'll pretty much eat anything you make. Sorry for scaring you."

"Is something on your mind? You almost made a lap walking around my tank."

"Well... Despite that short-staffed situation during a surf and turf event near the Run of the Mill pizzeria..."

"I'm still excited that I made friends with you and a few other merpeople!"

You winced with a fake smile before going back to the soup filled bowl.

"I mostly tagged along with that group for a discount on seafood pizza."

"I couldn't stomach the idea of eating turtles, let alone ones who were brave enough to serve an angry mob of hungry merpeople."

"Yeah... I still think we were pretty lucky that we based off the menu from a few of dad's old movies. Clam chowder being one of those."

You blinked surprised at the soup then back to Mikey.

"Any clue why he doesn't like talking about clam chowder?"

"Because I tried bringing it up and he just avoids the question with something else."

Mikey only shrugged while playing around with his orange bandana tails.

"He told us only criminals like that movie but, Cassandra turned over a new leaf because of his words of wisdom."

"Maybe, something terrible happened during the making of the movie so, it might have been that..."

You hummed understanding that reasoning. Then held the bowl to drink what's left out of the almost empty soup. Mikey gulped as you perched your arms content with the meal.

"Hopefully its not too weird to ask but, are you free to be a muse?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"I had a few sketches for some disguises especially with the mermaid theme in mind but..."

"I didn't want to offend you if some of the designs are in poor taste..."

You couldn't help but, giggle at Mikey as you placed the bowl on his head.

"So you want feedback from me? Sure, I don't bite."

"But, take it easy when you decide to use said distraction in action."

"I wouldn't want that cute face of yours getting hurt."

Mikey blushed as you winked at him and hurried off to get dessert. Unfortunately for him, his brothers also saw the incident and appeared with teasing grins, casually hanging around the kitchen like nothing happened.

Old and New Memories

In the turtle tank...

Donnie spoke up with a sigh.

"You know its impolite to stare at someone for a long period of time..."

"Oh sorry, a while ago, I got stuck with helping one of my classmates for something in Witch Town."

"That place still mentions you-"

"Being the infamous scientist turtle who scoffed at anything magic related and destroyed the center piece statue during an important ceremony."

Donnie felt an imaginary arrow hitting his head as he winced while you continued to talk.

"But still, you made a long way from being stubborn about mystic magic."

"And gained some understanding of it through your way of approaching things."

You fidgeted one of the charms added to the custom made backpack (courtesy of the purple turtle himself) to avoid the tedious process. Carrying a large jug of water when there's no aquarium tank around.

Donnie faked cough now regaining his composure as you looked back at him.

"Accidental destruction of property was the more correct term to describe it..."

"At that time, I was more focused proving April wrong that she didn't need help from those witches."

"Also, there is no way I'm setting foot near that place if they still talk about me in that matter."

"I was already greeted with the angry mob gathering pitchforks and torches when I tried to apologize for my actions."

Donnie crossed his arms as you lightly puffed one of your cheeks.

"On a lighter note, I found out some of my classmates grew up with parents who are big fans of Splinter's movies."

"And..."

You held up a conch shell device and played a recording from its string.

"Do you think we'll turn heads if we change the purple one's wanted poster in a light tone similar to the splitting image of Lou Jitsu?"

"I already heard stories how the former star dedicates his life to raising four turtles and..."

"The purple one can easily get away with anything for having such dashing looks-"

You immediately held the string down with blush surfacing an annoyed look on your face.

"It slowly started an argument on which of you was the best Lou Jitsu look-a-like."

"So the fan club forgot to start the project..."

"But still, at least you have me and a few other fans by your side."

Your fish-fin ears fluttered a bit taking notice of Donnie's smirk.

"While I'm flattered by that girl's comment, I only assume you haven't thought of the idea towards a surprise meet and greet."

"Or you don't like the thought of her dating me..."

The blush deepened your face as you looked away.

"I think she'll be more disappointed that you aren't into pda and hugs."

You felt Donnie's arms pulling you into a hug now sitting on his lap.

"Given the nature of my happy go lucky family members, I just give in to the hugs. However, for you."

"I'm willing to make some amends towards my soon to be partner's needs..." On the back of Donnie's mind was slight panic. With the realization that you look really cute sitting there. And how, he got a closer look at your face.

A Merfolk That Can't Sing?!

Near a rooftop pool close to 10 pm... (Totally not trespassing says the red slider turtle)

Your face sank halfway into the chlorinated water. Attempting to hide the embarrassed feeling as Leo immediately sat up.

"Wait, for eel? I always thought it comes naturally that most merpeople can just lure anyone in by a wonderful singing voice."

You laid on your aquatic back, letting the water glide you across the lightly dimmed pool. With a whine at Leo's fishy oneliners.

"Not me, my parents tried to get help and it didn't even work."

"I already don't like the thought of it being associated with drowning..."

"I almost forgot about that part but, the reason I brought the singing was more towards..."

"Donnie was playing a game where sirens sang during a boss fight."

"I don't know much about metal but, the song surprisingly blends well with the siren singing."

"Okay? I still don't get what you're trying to say."

"I don't want to sound like Dr Feelings but, if you have a favorite song you'd usually like to hum to."

"Maybe try that, since you don't seem happy trying to fit into the scary siren image.

Leo saw you hesitated for a bit but shrugged, now lazily laying on your stomach.

"I'll think about it but, thanks for the brief pep talk."

"Well if you feel up to a small karaoke battle, you know who to call!"

You held back laughing at him in an attempt to hide the blush on your face.

"You almost fell off the turtle taxi proudly winning the previous karaoke battle during a late night beach party."

Leo's confident smile quickly faded into embarrassment. As he immediately placed one of his beach hats on your head. Causing you to sit up to avoid damaging the hat.

"It still counted as a victory for me. We weren't expecting anyone to be up around that time."

"Let alone a surprise visit from a merfolk."

You blushed at the water's reflection, wearing Leo's straw beach hat. A tiny bit of regret deepened the blush as you caught sight of his slow smirk.

"Did my singing actually lure you in?~"

Your fish fin lightly splashed water near his face as you looked away.

"The turtle tank caused a tiny rumor about a turtle with a taxi on its shell"

"I don't think Donnie would be happy about making his prized vehicle open to the public."

Leo wiped the water off his face with a spare towel as he got off the chaise lounge chair.

"I still think I lured you in."

"It just happened to be in good timing, with Donnie making small tests to the turtle tank."

Your fish tail sat by the pool step ladders as you sighed.

"Just don't add any love songs to the playlist or I might curse you for a week."

"I can probably handle whatever hex you throw at me but, I'll still give you dibs on picking the first few songs.

"Just so I have somewhat an idea of what songs you're into."

Ever since he got you to laugh at some of his jokes, the red slider turtle believes you have that merpeople charm in you.

Early Morning Seaside Chit Chat

Close to early sunrise by the Hidden City beach.

The turtle tank was parked a few distance away from the volunteer vendor booth that usually helps with clean up, trash, and protecting wildlife. However, the daily weekend event usually starts in around 9 or 10 am.

Raph could see the groggy eyebags on your face as you struggled to stay awake, resting your arms above the aquarium tank.

"We brought some snacks that should last until lunch."

"So try to eat something so you don't accidentally chomp on a seagull."

You snatched a family sized bag of chips from the snack pile. With a brief thanks as Raph sat across from you.

"I scared off some birds from last year's sea turtle hatching tour."

"I'll be fine."

Raph bit into a piece of jerky as he rolled his eyes.

"That one pink heron almost knocked you into the sea if we didn't step in to help."

"Mikey almost saw a baby turtle getting pecked to death."

"That's the only time I pick fights with any of those birds."

Raph muttered a sigh under his breath as you pouted.

"Okay I'll admit, we didn't want to see that but..."

"I'm surprised how you convinced Donnie and the volunteers to set up a eco friendly barrier for those baby turtles."

You smiled a bit biting into another chip as you spoke.

You guys still helped, spreading the word through cute flyer posters and a tiny fundraiser for a good cause."

Raph lightened up with his toothy grin as he chuckled.

"So, no secret plan to get revenge on that bird."

"I mean Donnie was almost thinking about it, until he got praised with so many compliments displaying his work to the staff."

"Oh, so Donnie didn't have some speech with how cruel nature is and just went with your idea."

You accidentally yawned with an annoyed expression on your face.

"He did but, life is already like that sometimes."

"And not to bring down the mood but, you four would have been just regular turtles if it weren't for Splinter stepping in to protect you guys from being Draxum's super soldiers..."

Raph hummed briefly looking down at the half empty plastic bag.

"I don't think I could fit in with the other alligator snapping turtles."

"I had a lot of weird moments not realizing its a solitary thing and its just not for me."

Raph looked up after hearing you chuckle.

"You could easily win a few over just from your gentle smile."

"Showing off your strength is one thing but, your level of honesty."

"Its almost too sweet that it could blind the competition."

The alligator snapping turtle blushed at your compliments.

"If this is your way of wanting that expensive seafood buffet for lunch, I'm not budging..."

"Awww, but I saved up enough money for a really good couple's discount~..."

Raph eventually caved in to the offer after most of the baby sea turtles safely made it to watery shore. However, to your surprise, the two of you sat in one table alone. With the blush beginning to appear on your face as the waiter took his order.

[satansapostle6]

love and blood | killian jones

The course of history is changed forever when a ruggedly charming pirate’s fate is intertwined with that of a dark sorceress more powerful than any he had ever encountered.

Warnings: Violence. Mature themes/language. Sexual content.

IV. Dark Ones

V. The Witch’s Champion

Killian Jones watched with curiosity as Gorgon the supposedly Invincible rose to his feet as he offered his services to the Blood Queen.

“Thank you for your allegiance, Gorgon,” her silky voice responded. “It will not go unrewarded.”

The sorceress slowly waved two bejeweled fingers in front of the man, as, just for a split second, all of the veins in his body seemingly glowed bright red with magic. Gorgon gasped in surprise, looking upon his savior with an almost naive sense of wonder.

“What have you done?” he asked her.

“It would appear I’ve removed that nasty blood curse of yours,” she provided, only to be met with confusion. “I have a knack for that sort of magic,” she explained.

“I don’t understand,” Gorgon breathed, “No sorcerer, or sorceress, of course, has eved been able to find a cure for the curse placed upon me.”

“Like I said; blood magic is kind of my specialty,” Carmilla remarked coyly.

“An understatement,” the man stared. “Your gift is quite remarkable.”

“And now, you, too, are free to use your gift,” she reminded him.

Hook instinctively looked to his companion for an explanation, not knowing much about this Gorgon character.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Gorgon told her.

“Back when those hunters were stalking you… You took the form of a pheasant. That blood curse that was placed upon you, it made it so that you were unable to control what form you take, or when. I’ve made it so that not only are you free of that curse, but you’re free to harness your ability to take whatever shape you desire,” she answered.

“My fair lady!” Gorgon gasped. “If what you say is true, I owe you more than I could ever repay!”

“As I said before. You owe me nothing,” Carmilla promised, “Except, of course, your services as my champion.”

“Anything,” he nodded quickly. “Now. Tell me more about this for that plagues you.”

Hook stood by Carmilla’s side as the bird remained perched on her shoulder, anxiously awaiting the development of this particular endeavor. He was slowly growing tired of Gorgon and his relentless flattery.

“The man I wish to defeat is a very powerful sorcerer; the most powerful,” she replied. “He holds the title of ‘Dark One’.”

Hook watched Gorgon’s reaction and realized this meant nothing to him. This should be interesting, he thought.

“His powers are unique?” Gorgon considered.

Carmilla nodded. “Very much so. He is, as you’ve probably gathered, a conduit of darkness itself. He’s powerful, immortal, and can only be killed by one weapon.”

“And where do we find this weapon?” Gorgon asked readily.

Hook could tell Carmilla was loving his vigilance on her behalf. It was very convenient.

“That’s the tricky part; he keeps it safely guarded,” she stated, “He’s never far from it.”

“And there’s no other weapon that can kill him?”

“Even if there was, it’s imperative you kill him with his dagger,” she emphasized, “Because if you kill him with that dagger, you take his place as Dark One.”

Gorgon considered this for a moment, processing everything he’d just heard.

“I’d be immortal?” he asked her.

Carmilla nodded. “You’d be more powerful than any sorcerer in all the realms. Including myself.”

“Forgive me for asking, my lady,” he began, “But I don’t quite see why you need me. Would it not be better if you simply killed this ‘Dark One’ yourself, and took his place?”

Hook raised an eyebrow as he turned to Carmilla, fully aware that whatever she was about to tell this man was a complete lie; Carmilla needed a champion to kill Dunstan for her and take the mantle of Dark One purely because even she knew, in all her vindictive and power-hungry glory, that the title of Dark one was not one to be coveted.

“You see, Gorgon, I’ve already come quite close to achieving immortality, as well as eternal youth,” she explained, not yet lying. “I’m over a thousand years old, for starters.”

Gorgon was at the point of shamelessly open-mouth staring at her.

“Y-You’re a thousand years old?!” he blurted out.

“Yes, I am,” she nodded, “You see, I chose to seek out a knight in shining armor, so to speak, because I have already harnessed my power. Now, it’s your turn. To become the fearsome shapeshifter you were always meant to be, and to fulfill your destiny as the next and final Dark One,” she finished with a sweet, deceptive smile.

The enticing look on her face was completely foreign to Hook. He even started to wonder if Carmella truly was completely honest with him solely because it seemed this is what it looked like when she lied.

“‘Fearsome’?” he wondered. “I could truly become Gorgon the Invincible?”

“You can, mate,” Hook nodded. “All you have to do is come with us.”

Gorgon thought for a moment, never having been faced with such a choice in his life.

“These shapeshifting powers… They’ve never made the others see me as any sort of champion,” he thought. “I’ve only ever been an outcast; a monster, or a weakling.”

“That all changes today,” Carmilla promised. “Now that your curse is lifted, you don’t have to live in fear. You don’t have to be the helpless pheasant anymore; you could choose to be whatever you like. A flighty hawk, a noble steed, or even a fire-breathing wart hog; whatever it is your heart desires.”

“A fire-breathing wart hog?” Gorgon pondered.

“Sky’s the limit,” Hook nodded.

It only took him a moment to side with Carmilla.

“I will do as you ask, my lady,” Gorgon announced with resolved, hand over his heart. “I will become the next Dark One.”

“Oh, I know you will,” Carmilla agreed, grinning uncontrollably.

*****

After a bit of coaching, Gorgon was able to used his newly discovered magical abilities to transport himself, Carmilla, and Hook to his home in the blink of an eye in a cloud of emerald green smoke. He had insisted upon preparing a meal for her his guests, which left Hook and Carmilla to sit at his table, which was large enough for four but was used to sitting one.

“Might I ask you something, Carmilla?” Hook piped up after a moment.

“If I said no, I’m sure you’d just ask anyway,” she reasoned pointedly.

“Fair enough.”

“So ask,” she said impatiently.

“Back there, in the forest,” he began, having been contemplating for a while. “You were able to rid Gorgon, a shapeshifter, of his curse.”

“I was.”

“So, why were you never able to cure Col?” Hook wondered.

He watched Carmilla’s jaw clench as the raven cawed quietly, head turned towards her. This was one of the moments where Hook particularly wished he could understand the bird. Carmilla lightly cleared her throat before speaking.

“The witch who cursed him knew my magic well,” she answered, surprising earnestly.

There was no petty irritation or sarcasm in her words.

“She knew that if she cursed him using blood magic, I would never be able to undo it. No matter what I did. The magic she was able to do was, admittedly, impressive. Even to me. Powerful stuff,” she confessed. “Not only did she make the curse impermeable, but… she managed to tether it to his life force.”

“How do you mean?” Killian asked quietly.

He watched the discomfort appear on her face for a split second before she composed herself.

“Even if I did find a way to break Col’s curse…” Carmilla told him.

He frowned sympathetically.

“He’d die.”

Her story finally made everything make sense to Hook. Now, it made even more sense to him. Carmilla, the all-powerful blood magic practitioner, couldn’t break the curse that plagued her husband because he’d die if she did. She kept him alive in his cursed raven form only because it was better than losing him altogether. The story, he thought, truly was a tragic one.

“So now you understand,” Carmilla read the expression of pity on his face, “Why his curse is the only one I cannot break.”

He nodded sadly, trying to come up with something better to offer. He looked at her, with Col sitting perched on her shoulder. The bird refused to look at her now, and even though to him it was just a bird, Killian Jones still knew the look of a man who resented his wife.

“How about we digress,” he suggested, his demeanor more playful once again, “And I ask you the other question on my mind.”

“By all means,” Carmilla allowed, seeming somewhat withdrawn.

“Why, pray tell,” Hook leaned in as he stared into her dark eyes, “Wouldn’t you, a powerful sorceress, jump at the opportunity to become the Dark One?” he murmured.

Carmilla just laughed at the idea. “Why, pirate?” she said mockingly. “Do I not frighten you enough?”

“Oh, you frighten me plenty,” he assured her. “I just don’t understand why that kind of unlimited power, and unbridled dark magic wouldn’t appeal to you.”

“Simple,” she murmured, careful to make sure Gorgon wasn’t in earshot. “I’m powerful; perhaps one of the most powerful practitioners of magic in all the realms. I’ve lived for over a thousand years all on my own. Becoming the Dark One would make the dagger my weakness, and I simply don’t need one of those,” she replied simply.

Hook understood her point, agreeing that it was prudent of her not to choose to become the Dark One, as convenient as it would be for him in his quest to exact his revenge upon the current Dark One in their time, Rumplestiltskin.

-

[artsandstoriesandstuff]

I’ve been thinking about it… and I realized a really good switch for Veronica and Lucy, the gardener lady.

(of course, possible spoilers until I officially reveal. Also talks about Veronica’s husband’s murder, so be wary.)

((also, many, MANY, words are below the cut. I’m a rambler.))

I don’t think I’ve talked Veronica nor Lucy’s backstories in full.

Veronica in her backstory was convicted of killing her husband. In the original, she actually did. She was not mentally stable, but still ended up going to prison. She eventually ran into Monica, who bailed her out and offered her a job at her club… place. I don’t really know what it is.

Lucy, on the other hand, was a famous gardening star who eventually got her show replaced by a different show due to low ratings. Furious, she ended up stabbing either the producer or the host of the other show (or just one of the big shots in general) and got arrested and has, recently, gotten out of prison herself. This attack was originally non fatal.

However… I think I’m going to switch their outcomes.

Since I’ve developed Veronica after her original appearance -for almost 4 months now? Wow- I don’t think it’d be in her pre-trauma character to want to kill someone. In fact, as much as she hated her husband, i don’t think she’d attempt to at all.

Now suppose Veronica’s husband, who I’ve dubbed Tim, recently got hired to work on a new job. A television job that just replaced the ever popular Lucy’s Gardens. And suppose he’s in the wrong place at the wrong time…

In this new version I have a feeling Lucy would ACTUALLY end up killing someone. But in this version as well, the people would still give Lucy support since her show got canceled.

And after the murder, the people never consider Lucy to be the suspect, since not only did she appear normal (given her facade), but the people simply couldn’t see her doing that.

But you know who they COULD suspect, though?

Veronica.

Not only did the public view her as mentally unstable, but she also had a motive, her husband’s incompetence, and knew how to use weapons do to previous training she got herself.

Another idea I had was to make the weapon of the crime the same one Veronica owns… possibly, Lucy stole it. If this does end up being the case I think another damning piece of evidence would involve them not finding Lucy’s fingerprints on the gun, as she’s a gardener and always wears gloves (which is NOT normal gardener behavior. Btw.)

A third thing to add: another bias of the group, along with Veronica’s mental health, could be her ties to her siblings line of work. Lucy was a TV gardener who everyone loved. Veronica’s sister Cathy was dabbling in an… interesting line of work. And also, she was a part of a mob family. Hence the bias.

And she ended up getting convicted wrongly for this. She went to prison. Trauma.

Of course, eventually Monica bails her out, and Veronica gets her job as a secretary (I just NOW remember the name) alongside Rodney. At a club of all places.

And I think that, due to a mishandling of her case (THANKS, BECKY), it could lead to a possible bias of hers against law officials, including the robo sleuths themselves. It’d create some interesting conflict.

But near the latter half of season one (or, more likely, the beginning of season two), Veronica learns that Lucy NEVER got convicted, and so Veronica’s trauma resurfaces. And so, without any real choice, she decides to go to the robo sleuths to get her to reevaluate the case.

Less so related to the backstory and more so related to Veronica herself, I think that her eyes could be more “drooped” than they used to be could be that, her choice or not, she took meds for her mental health. They’ve helped a little, but not by much.

Sorry for the word vomit. But I got this pretty good idea for the overarching story/series, so I really wanted to share it.

It also kinda? Ties into the recurring theme that the bigger companies in their city are being corrupted, but I think this is more of a comment of their older time period as opposed to a societal theme now (especially given some of the specific biases.)

Like I said, this is a LOT of words, so if you made it this far thank you for reading it. Maybe let me know what you think? :)

[ms-lirio]

"Teu nome é pátria amada, é patriazinha  Não rima com mãe gentil" — Vinicius de Moraes

faceclaim ; marina nery | voiceclaim ; fatima guedes

• BASIC PROFILE INFORMATION:

🌿 human name: mayara dos santos silva (former beatriz dos santos, it used to be her baptism name gave by Portugal)

🌿 gender: cis female

🌿 birthday: september 7th (independence day)

🌿 zodiac: virgo

🌿 mbti: esfp

• SPOTIFY:

🎵 Mayara's theme songs playlist — may

🎵 Mayara's favorite musics — may's playlist

• DESIGN INFORMATION:

Brazil is a difficult country to be represented due to its large ethnic and cultural diversity. As we do not have only one traditional clothing, I decided to add to her casual clothing some cultural aspects and details.

Mayara is a parda (mestiza/mixed) woman. She has long dark curly hair and bright hazel eyes (they're not green) with a small mark below her left eye (Portugal's influence).

(The images above are some examples of Brazilian women that inspire Mayara's appearance).

Her basic clothing is composed of a white lace blouse and a tiny turban made of floral green chita cloth.

She wears simple jeans shorts with a guaiaca (gaucho belt) decorated with an Aparecida buckle.

Her earrings are based on indigenous (povos originários) earrings, made of beads and feathers.

Her sandals are made of leather; they're traditional sandals worn in the Northeast region of Brazil.

📍CHIBI + REFERENCES

#mayara trivia (tag for extra info)

@d-elirio (for my Mayara ship, Brapan)

[therecordconnection]

Ranting and Raving: "Video!" by Jeff Lynne

There is no such thing as the “Cult Classic” anymore. Today, if a movie fails or a television series flops, it’s just removed and completely forgotten without a second thought. With physical releases no longer having the same cultural weight as before, it makes media preservation even harder. I hear if you complain long enough about this and get caught, Netlfix or Hulu or Pooblo or Tuubah or whatever else comes to your house and hits you with the Neuralyzer from Men in Black so you’ll shut up.

In the eighties, this wasn’t the case. Movies could brick at the box office, but they might get lucky and find their audiences later on through cable or video rentals or just really good word of mouth. Xanadu still exists today and has love because HBO kept showing it during its infancy and LGBTQ audiences eventually latched onto it (though that’s probably more due to the everlasting power of Olivia Newton-John’s gay fanbase). Phantom of the Paradise owes its continued love and existence to Guillermo Del Toro, the Daft Punk robots, and all of Winnipeg, Canada really loving that movie. I’m with them in that boat (Phantom is one of my favorite movies). Electric Dreams, a 1984 science fiction-tinged romantic comedy, exists today purely through video rentals and good word of mouth.

Electric Dreams is a wonderfully weird cult classic in every sense of the word. It has a very lovably goofy eighties rom-com setup and delivery: Miles Harding (Lenny Von Dohlen), a loser tech nerd geologist who gets no bitches, falls in love with his new apartment neighbor Madeline Robistat (Virginia Madsen), a quirky and beautiful cellist. They're an unlikely pair in every conceivable way, but they fall for each other. The only problem is that Miles' fancy new supercomputer (who becomes sentient and later identifies himself as “Edgar”) would like to see Miles destroyed so that he can be with her instead. Edgar then does everything in his power to ruin Miles’ life and his chances to be with Madeline. Eventually, Edgar comes to accept the love between Miles and Madeline and they get their happily-ever-after. 

On paper, the whole thing probably sounded silly to a 1984 audience, which might be why nobody bothered to see it at the time, but Electric Dreams fucking rules. Von Dohlen and Madsen are great and have such an odd yet instantly lovable chemistry with each other that you can’t help but root for them (it helps that they were good friends instantly and remained that way until Van Dohlen passed away in 2022). Steve Barron, one of the great music video directors of the early MTV era (he’s responsible for Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean,” Toto’s “Africa” and “Rosanna,” and many more), brings that same music video storytelling style to this movie’s visuals. If this movie had done better upon release, it would’ve gotten everything Miami Vice’s directing style often gets credited for. The soundtrack is also really great! Giorgio Moroder did the movie’s theme with Human League frontman Phil Oakey as well as a killer score for it (only Moroder could find a way to expertly turn Bach’s “Minuet” into a duel between a cello and a computer. He couldn't get more eighties than that if he tried). There’s also a really neat Heaven 17 cut that sounds like a Crash Bandicoot level theme (“Chase Runner”), Culture Club right at the end of their relevance (“Love is Love” and “The Dream”), and Jeff Lynne from Electric Light Orchestra with arguably the two best songs in the movie. One of them, “Let It Run,” is awesome as hell, but “Video!” is the one we’re gonna talk about.

“Video!” appears at a pretty pivotal point in the movie. It soundtracks the montage of one of Miles and Madeline’s first proper dates, which involves sneaking away from a tour group to run around and play in Alcatraz (I’m serious). They’re also seen together at a carnival. Before this date, Miles tasks Edgar with finding a way to write music for Madeline. He intends to pass off whatever Edgar comes up with as his own work, hoping to impress her and make her fall in love with him. This is one of the main reasons Edgar wants Miles out of the picture. He knows he can make music with Madeline (he did it previously in “The Duel” scene, though Madeline thinks Miles is providing the music, not the computer) and fell in love with her by doing that. He is fully aware that Miles is trying to win her love with a lie. Once Edgar figures out how rhythm works, he figures out how melody is made by reviewing and absorbing the music playing in television commercials. “Video!” then starts playing proper once he’s got the basics down. For a computer with no previous songwriting experience, writing a Jeff Lynne composition is a pretty impressive feat!

Electric Dreams is not the first movie Lynne has contributed music to. There are two others. The first one was 1976’s All This and World War II, which is a movie which pairs all-star covers of Beatles songs and World War II footage. I’ve never seen it and I don’t think I need to. But you can hear Lynne, the most famous Beatles fanboy to ever live, do a fully symphonic version of “With a Little Help From My Friends” and “Nowhere Man.” It’s pretty cool. The other one was Xanadu, which is much more well known. Lynne provided five songs: “I’m Alive,” “The Fall,” “Don’t Walk Away,” “All Over the World,” and the title track with Olivia Newton-John. I think they’re all great. Xanadu totally works on its own as a great ELO EP if you want to forget there’s a movie attached.

This is all to say that Lynne was no stranger to giving songs to strange movies, even if he harbored regrets later on about doing that. He regretted Xanadu for a while, but made peace with it decades later (he re-recorded “Xanadu” in 2000 for the ELO compilation Flashback and he’s revived “All Over the World” for every ELO tour since 2017). I don’t know how he feels about Electric Dreams and at this point, he’s done so much in his career that I doubt he even remembers it. I think he should! I think “Video!” is a great song and I think he was a perfect fit for Electric Dreams. The entire soundtrack is dated as hell, but in a fun time-capsule kind of way. It represents the sound of what people in 1984 thought the future was going to sound like. Lynne had already spent time imagining the sounds of the future.

At the dawn of the eighties, Jeff Lynne had gotten tired of dealing with the big orchestras you hear on that great ELO run from 1976-1980. Orchestras started becoming a pain in the ass for him around the time when synthesizers and keyboards were getting some big technological boosts. New wave artists like Gary Numan, Kraftwerk, and the Human League were pushing synths and keyboard sounds into the mainstream and proving that the new technology could be used to make some wildly futuristic sounds. Lynne quickly learned that with a few fancy keyboards, you could start simulating strings and classical sounds, but in a new and exciting way. Suddenly, Lynne and ELO keyboardist Richard Tandy could keep the symphonic pop sounds the band had been making, but update the sound and take it into the future. Suddenly, the “Orchestra” part of the ELO name suddenly found itself obsolete and out of a job.

Dick Clark asked him about this choice on an American Bandstand appearance in 1986. Lynne responded, “Well, you know, I got fed up with using a big orchestra because they used to always be in a union and stuff like that and they used to put their equipment away while we were still recording. So I thought what we'll do is we'll use just ourselves and then we can work as long as we'd like and nobody would complain.”

So Lynne took advantage of all this new technology that was floating around and used it to craft the 1981 masterpiece, Time. That album is the best example of retrofuturism in music I can give. In Time, Lynne imagines a loose concept album about a guy who gets yoinked out of 1981 and flung into the year 2095. The entire album is full of songs where Lynne imagines a future that he would never live to see (I won’t either, unless I somehow make it to a full century of life). Hover cars, rides to the moon, robotic girlfriends (built by IBM) who can also serve as telephones, prison satellites, ivory towers, plastic flowers, and meteor showers as a common weather condition are all present in Lynne’s visions of the distant future. Most of his predictions feel like they’re coming out of science fiction magazines from when he was a child, but the album is more concerned with just letting his imagination run wild and wonder about how one would feel if they were flung far into the future where everyone they’ve ever loved is gone. The future presented in Time feels like daydreaming rather than any kind of cautionary tale or warning. I’ve never gotten the sense that Lynne thinks any of what’s in the album will actually come true.��

If Lynne got anything right, he somehow nailed the still-lingering nostalgic yearning to return to the eighties. Lynne’s narrator constantly laments that he’s stuck in 2095 and 1981 is name dropped in “Ticket to the Moon” and “The Way Life’s Meant to Be.” “Ticket to the Moon” even begins with what is now a variation of the only kind of Youtube comment you’ll find on any old song from the decade: “Remember the good old 1980s / When things were so uncomplicated / I wish I could go back there again / And everything could be the same.” He might as well have called himself “Nostradamus” when writing that one, because that line is going to keep feeling accurate to people until every child of the eighties and every vintage style eighties cosplayer on instagram is dead and in the ground. Lynne using the current year the album was made in had a real danger of seriously dating it, but Time has never sounded dated to me. It doesn’t sound like anything else from 1981 and it still doesn’t. Lynne blended all the old sounds and genres he loved and infused them with the new sounds of the day on that one and imagined a future that still sounds just as magical then as it does now. It took pop music a few years to catch up with what Lynne was doing on that one. Time is still a retro futuristic dream and he carried all the tech and sound effects that he was using on that album with him when he made “Video!” for Electric Dreams. ELO’s future was up in the air by 1984 (Lynne would dissolve the original band for good two years later) so he tackled “Video!” as a solo artist (literally, as no other ELO members are on this) and released it under his own name.  

I don’t know if Lynne’s predictions for 2095 will come true. The verdict is still out on that. But what I do know is that everything Lynne is describing in “Video!” is a reality that I’ve lived to see, though perhaps differently from anything Lynne could’ve imagined in 1984. We’ll get there.

In the context of Electric Dreams, “Video!”’s lyrics are all about the many things Edgar the computer can find out about the world in pre-internet cyberspace. He can watch it all, from rock n’ roll to old time movie scenes, and learn. He has no other choice: he can’t move from Miles’ desk and see it himself. Nothing in Lynne’s lyrics are dated except for one thing. He mentions that satellites “send their love from up above / Down to [his] VTR.” VTRs, which I believe is meant to be a reference to “Video Tape Recorder,” is an obsolete machine in 2024. It’s long been replaced by digital video, such as DVDs, Blu-Rays, and 4K. That’s the only specific reference he makes besides working in both the movie’s title and  the title of the Phil Oakey/Giorgio Moroder collab. “They beam across the sky / Together in Electric Dreams.” I imagine Lynne was probably told he had to work in the title somewhere. To his credit, it’s a pretty smooth title drop. Clumsier movie songs have done it much worse. 

Lynne sneaks in a few lyrics in the song that become ominous and foreshadowing if you’ve seen the movie more than once. The first two verses end ominously with the lines “The world is at my fingers / Under control” and “I’ll just stay here on my end / I’ll have it all.” Those lines foreshadow Edgar eventually using his supercomputer intellect to control other computer systems and mess with Miles’ life, from cutting off access to his credit cards and funds, to manipulating phone lines so Madeline can’t call Miles later in the movie for comfort when her cello has been broken in an accident (it gets caught in an elevator door and gets crushed). His whole motivation in the movie is that he “wants it all,” especially Madeline. Lynne later captures that ominousness with the absolute beast of a song “Let It Run,” but “Video!” is reserved for Lynne soundtracking the moment where Edgar stays inside and excitedly discovers the world at large and how to write pop music, while Miles simultaneously goes out and discovers the world at large with his lovely lady. 

Musically, “Video!” strikes a balance and finds a perfect blend of the mechanical and the human elements of music making. Lynne seemed to understand that more than some of the art-school new wavers that were ruling the US and the UK in the early eighties. The entire song is mechanical, but that makes sense given the in-universe explanation that a literal computer is making it. The rhythm is provided by a drum machine and everything else is synthesized and sequenced to hell and back. Even the fun sound effects throughout the song and during the middle instrumental bit are canned and not original to the song. There’s something that kinda sounds like a twangy guitar at the end of the verses and on the chorus, but that could just as easily be a keyboard making that sound. Lynne has made records where he’s played all instruments organically, but keyboards, sequencers, and machines not only suit the assignment, they’re necessary for the assignment.

The human elements are Jeff Lynne’s vocals and his always sharp sense of melody. Lynne’s never been the most mind blowing singer, but his vocals and melodies capture a magic and a warmth here that few of the survivors from his generation still making music in 1984 were capable of. He sings the song with that same sense of wonder that he has on Time. I love the melody of the verses and that chorus is so upbeat and happy and infectious. I love the way he slides into the chorus by holding out the word “on” before saying “video.” Oooooooon! It’s pop music at its most delightfully fun.

I’ve been surrounded by video my entire life, but Lynne makes it feel like it’s a brand new concept to me when I hear this song. I said that everything Lynne is describing in “Video!” is a reality that I’ve lived to see. That reality is Youtube. “The world is at my fingers” because I can more-or-less search for whatever I want (whether I actually find it is another story). The entire second verse can be used to describe someone discovering Youtube for the first time:

I see that rock and roll And all those old-time movies scenes They beam across the sky Together in electric dreams I'll just sit here on my end I'll have it all

Youtube, for all its numerous (numerous) flaws, allows me to be my own MTV VJ and watch scenes from my favorite movies with only a few mouse clicks. I can sit at my computer and watch videos in comfort (and while eating my dinner). Like Edgar, I have it all. Lynne sings that verse with completely sincere jubilance. The song is entirely mechanized, but the feelings presented in the song are not and they help provide a warmth and joy to the whole song that makes it sound like a dream. Lynne makes the concept of watching video sound like it’s the most exciting technical marvel you’ll ever see. He sells it like he’s Grover Cleveland lighting up the 1893 World Fair. It’s fantastic. Lynne isn’t even just fascinated by video, he’s fascinated by the entire process that helps bring it to life. That first verse takes the song from the hugeness of outer space and leads it to the small and insular space of a computer in an apartment without ever losing a step.

The satellites that search the night They twinkle like a star They send their love from up above Down to my VTR

Lynne sounds absolutely amazed by the technological wonders of 1984. He sings it with a child-like fascination that’s so lovably dorky. He sounds like Miles Harding does in the movie when he gets to talk to Madeline about architecture and his dream project during dinner. I was only ten years old when Youtube first arrived in December of 2005, so I essentially grew up with the rise of the internet and internet video creation. I imagine it must have been mind blowing to older people who were there to witness that boom. Maybe some of them were as excited as Lynne sounds on this song.

Nowadays, we take a lot of the modern technology around us for granted, but for Lynne in 1984, this was all exciting and new. That might be where the excitement and exuberance in the song stems from. Betamax and VHS had only existed for about a decade when Electric Dreams first came out, so people were only just getting started in terms of building up home video libraries and having video readily available to them. Camcorders were only starting to become a common commodity when Electric Dreams arrived, so I imagine people were going nuts and losing their minds that they could make home movies and shoot video of their own. Nowadays, technology has reached the point where the little bricks in our pockets (which are Edgar-level supercomputers of their own) can do almost anything, even film video anytime, anywhere. Now more than ever, the world really is at our fingers due to the way technology and social media keeps us interconnected.

“Video!” sees a continuation of Jeff Lynne’s interests in technology and the future that he was exploring on the Time album. Once again, his music is featured in a movie that’s weird, strange, and ridiculous, but also incredibly fun. “Video!” and Electric Dreams as a whole, is a beautiful little time capsule. It arrived during a time when the wonders of the future and technology was full of optimism and we were once again evaluating our relationship to tech as the world was continuing to undergo constant change. After Electric Dreams, Lynne would examine his own relationship with technology with the 1986 song “Calling America,” one of the last ELO singles before he went off to enjoy a second life as an in-demand producer for a while. He doesn’t sound as excited when he sings “Yeah, we’re living in a modern world” on that one. He doesn’t sound as excited about satellites on that one either, though that might have more to do with him being fully sick of ELO by that point and having to wrap up one last album before he can move on to other things.

Electric Dreams, both the movie and the soundtrack, aren’t as well remembered as Xanadu and I think that’s a shame. Electric Dreams is such a strange, beautiful, and moving love story. It’s the thinking man’s version of Spike Jonze’s Her (it’s also better than Her). The movie only played in theaters for a few short weeks before resigning to its fate as a strange movie you take a chance on when you’re wandering around the video store on a Friday night and you and your partner are looking for something interesting to watch. In hindsight, maybe a movie like Electric Dreams was just too strange to ever capture mainstream attention. 

But don’t feel bad for it! It’s lived and has found its share of people who love it, despite its initial failure. I’m one of them. Lenny Von Dohlen and Virginia Madsen are also in that boat. They loved working on it and had nothing but positive things to say about it. Madsen still considers it one of the best things she’s ever made and I agree with her. Cult classics like Electric Dreams find their audience. Sometimes it just takes a while.

I can tell you that Tumblr absolutely fucking LOVES this movie. If you do a search for “#electric dreams” you will find SO. MUCH. FANART for this movie in that tag. It’s not even funny. Tumblrinas L O V E making art of Edgar the computer. They love making art of him so much, you’d think he’s the protagonist of the movie, not Miles and Madeline. You’d also think Miles, Madeline, and Edgar are in a polycule with each other (hot take: polyamory would not have saved them). The fanart in that tag isn’t even that old either. People love this movie and they love him. (A shocking number of fanart posts depict Edgar hanging out with GLaDOs from Portal, HAL 9000 from 2001: A Space Odyssey, and AM from the Harlan Ellison short story I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream. I have come to the conclusion that Tumblr really loves antagonistic machines).

Electric Dreams celebrates its fortieth anniversary this year (it came out on July 20th, 1984, so this post missed its birthday by eleven days). An unloved film in its time, but a lovably strange and beautifully sincere science fiction romance that remains a beloved cult classic to those who know about it. If you want to see the film for yourself, it’s on Youtube for free. I highly recommend it.

Jeff Lynne is also celebrating this year. At the time of this writing, he’s preparing to take his modern day version of Electric Light Orchestra on the road one more time before retiring for good (he’s calling it the Over and Out Tour, which I think is just a fantastic name). He’s definitely not going to play “Video!” but he’ll be playing every ELO banger in existence, of which there are many. If you’ve never seen the maestro present his music live, I highly recommend you catch him before it’s too late. I plan on going to one of the Philadelphia nights. It’s gonna be a lot of fun. 

“Video!” and Electric Dreams are snapshots of a simpler time that dared to get a little silly and dream about a possible future. Some of its ideas about where technology was headed and our relationship to that technology were hauntingly accurate, some of it is hilariously outdated. Lynne’s visions of video and where video technology ended up being incredibly accurate in all the best ways. Video madness came upon us like a trance in the dark and because of that madness and the internet that houses all that madness, a movie that went completely unnoticed forty years ago can still exist and float out there today, waiting to be found. It wants to share with you what the world looked like during an interesting crossroads in time and it wants to show you what people thought the future might look like. Electric Dreams wants you to know that the future is strange, but it’s also bright and love can be found in the strangest of places if you know where to look. Don’t worry. It’s all under control and it’s all on video.

Electric Dreams sends its love to you. Send some of yours back to it.

[lackablazeical]

💕🕊Chizu Miyamoto🕊💕

Specific trigger warnings -

Minor themes of transphobia (rare), Eldest Daughter Syndrome, emotional neglect, guilt

Specific boundaries w/ this character -

Do not ask invasive questions about Chizu's transition ('What is her deadname', 'what's in her pants', etc.)

General info -

Chizu's birthday is October 5th. She is a Libra ♎️

Chizu's love language is Gifts.

Chizu is straight, she is attracted to non-women exclusively.

Chizu has moderate anxiety which manifests in obsessive-compulsive behaviors like cleaning.

Personality traits -

People-pleasing, a doormat, occasionally stubborn, patient, caring, gentle, traditional, somewhat manipulative.

Chizu is a doormat with most, but she will be extremely stubborn and stand her ground with anyone she dislikes. Basically, she's stubborn when it matters.

Non confrontational, but passive aggressive. She will make snippy comments and use 'because I said so' as a justification for an instruction.

She is slightly manipulative, as she's learned how to plant the seeds of her own beliefs and wants without appearing like she's trying to start a fight.

Chizu is astoundingly patient. She is willing to put up with a lot, and it takes quite a bit to get her fed up. When she gets fed up is when her passive-aggression tends to come through.

Chizu doesn’t communicate her needs, and struggles to express emotions. Chizu is bad at accepting help for this same reason.

Important details -

Her beliefs -

Chizu’s element is air.

She feels a strong connection with birds, especially cranes, as well as wind.

If it's windy, Chizu will do things like allow her fur to air dry in said wind. She also keeps track of the direction the wind is blowing in.

Chizu carves her own wind chimes to pray at, as well as birdhouses or birdbaths.

Chizu collects bird feathers, feeds birds, and treats them with high praise and care. She helps assist tending any birds they keep on the Miyamoto estate.

Her beliefs about Usagi's death -

Chizu blamed herself heavily for Usagi's death, as she was unable to heal him in time and her reviving spell seemingly didn't work.

Chizu secretly kept a box of photos/items of Usagi's to save them from getting taken/destroyed. They are some of her most treasured items.

Her relationship to Raph -

Raph and Chizu are close friends.

Chizu likes that Raph is quite thoughtful, and admires his care for his family and love of the simple/small things in life.

They share interests in having deep discussions, as Chizu is patient and gives Raph the time and space he needs to properly mull over questions and think of a response. They also both enjoy tea parties.

Raph also adores how soft Chizu is, so Chizu often lets Raph stroke her ears or something similar when they are together. Chizu loves Raph snuggles!

Neither one of them are very social or high energy, and simply enjoy getting to be around eachother and relax in peaceful quiet.

They both bond over being oldest siblings, especially oldest siblings to accident prone brothers.

Chizu’s magic is able to quickly and easily calm Raph down/put him to sleep if he is in a rage, so the Hamatos may call her to avoid any extra damage to their lair.

Fun facts -

Chizu’s favorite food is black bean buns, and her favorite drink is white tea.

Chizu likes woodcarving as well as jewelery making. She often makes little statues of her family.

She tends to be an enabler to her mother's bad behavior, as she doesn't want to 'start a fight' or make things worse.

Chizu is very defensive of others, but she may accidently speak FOR the person, instead of letting them get their own say.

She needs to be productive, and will always give herself a job or project to keep busy. She is insecure about not being needed.

Chizu enjoys drawing, but rarely has time to do so.

Chizu’s guilty pleasure is rom-coms.

Chizu smells like flowers.

Chizu loves makeup and doing her nails.

Chizu has fairly strong mystic magic, and she is able to cast spells both normally and through song.

Voice claim [Nicole Maines] -

Tags that include Chizu -

#addams! Chizu, #addams! Rizu, #addams! Miyamotos

[ro2sid]

An Imperial Radch Fanzine Interest Form

Please click here to access the form to indicate your interest in submitting to the 10th anniversary Imperial Radch zine.

Due to Life, this form is releasing about one month late. Apologies for this, the brain has been quite uncooperative.

On the other hand, Translation State is out!! This is so exciting!!!!!!!!

On the third hand, please click below for the Google form to indicate your interest. The submission guidelines and general summary are in the form, and you can also read them below.

The year 2023 marks the 10th anniversary of the publication of Ann Leckie's debut novel, Ancillary Justice, as well as the publication of her new novel in the Radch universe, Translation State. In anticipation of this anniversary, we wish to release a fanmade zine to celebrate all of Leckie's work in this universe - the Imperial Radch trilogy, Provenance, and Translation State. The zine is expecting to accept submissions until Aug. 15, barring unforeseen circumstances. This form is an interest check to determine logistics for zine publication. The zine Tumblr will post a submissions form shortly - currently planned around June 15. Any zine-related questions should be directed to ancillaryzine@gmail[.]com or Ro2SID.tumblr.com for zine-related matters. If you have received no reply in about 48 hours, please contact me directly at sauronthegreat@gmail[.]com (yes, really), or tree#0597 on Discord. Please note that I am not in a North American time zone, which will affect response times. As Discord is rolling out changes to its name system, the best way to get in touch with me on that platform is on the fan-run discord server for Ann Leckie's work, Radchdome 3.0, the link to which can be found here: https://discord.gg/WAF8uv9f3k. My display name on that server will be tree. Submission Guidelines: The 10th anniversary zine will be a celebration of the Imperial Radch trilogy and its standalone sequels. The key criteria for submissions are appreciation and affection for the original work. These do not need to be uncritical, and respectful critiques of the work are important and welcome. This does not mean that the zine will not accept shitposts. It only means that the zine will not accept submissions that are apathetic to the original work. If you would like to submit a series of poems about how Breq is like a duck, we look forward to it.

The zine editor(s) are not currently equipped to handle certain topics due to their sensitive nature. These include sexual assault, child abuse, and suicide/suicidal ideation. Unfortunately this is not an extensive list of sensitive topics we will not be able to handle, but it is our best attempt based on our editor(s) boundaries. 

The original work deals with sensitive themes, some of which appear in our list and we do not wish to discourage exploration of them. Submissions that deal with these topics will not be rejected out-of-hand, but instead will be dealt with care. The zine welcomes NSFW work under the same guidelines.

[gypsypendragon]

Was doing everybody else's pokemon OCs thought I'd finally do my own trainer and team.

Yes there's an appearance theme leave me alone. Knight pokemon are the best and I will not be told other wise. Ever.

Also those of you who are pokemon people I have some coms openings coming for trainer cards like this and one other version so you can get your own made if you'd like.

And if anybody else is interested in some stuff-

I've also got some other side things for coms Im going to open like character design help/drawing incase you dont have a full ref of an OC etc, and some chibi coms coming for ocs/ships etc also. Just trying to finish up examples of each and figure out pricing.

[eclipseoftheapocalypse]

Introduction

This is a roleplay blog for Eclipse in @sir-qwillian-ferne 's apocalypse AU.

Rules

This blog welcomes self insert, OC, crossover, multi fandom, and other au interactions.

If you don't support LGBTQIA+, leave. Just go. Xeno and neopronouns are here. Apocalypse Eclipse is pan and non-binary. If you can't respect that, leave.

Romantic interactions are allowed, but please SPECIFY romantic intent! Unless previously stated I assume all interactions are purely platonic.

Sexual content is prohibited. Jokes are okay but nothing more than that.

This blog contains heavy themes so please read at your own risk (content warnings will be provided).

Send as many interactions as you'd like in however short of a time frame you want, just please don't repeat the SAME one more then thrice

That's all! Have fun!

Eclipse Character Info

Eclipse is an adult robot of unspecified age. They live inside the ruins of what was once a human settlement with xir pet snake. Ze cannot leave the boundaries of the ruins, and is quite frankly incredibly lonely. Com is typically bundled up with a large cloak, covering most of their body up to halfway up deir face. It has split hair - the left half is yellow and curly, the right dark blue and straight, both fairly long.

Pronouns

Eclipse is comfortable with many different pronouns. Do not feel like you need to use them all - it's a lot - but please try to stick with these options

Likely more familiar pronouns: they/them/their/theirs/theirself, it/it/its/its/itself

Neopronouns: Xe/xem/xir/xir/xirself, ze/hir/hir/hirs/hirself, dey/dem/deir/deirs/deirself

Xenopronouns: Com/comet/comets/comets/cometself, co/con/cons/const/constellself, fla/flare/flares/flares/flareself, star/stars/starself

World info

The world this is set in takes place after nuclear war, with human settlements few and far between. Worse, there are monstrous robots infected with a virus that causes them to hunt down and kill anything that moves.

Older robot models appear to not be favored by the virus.

Content warnings

This blog may contain discussions of the following:

Sharp objects

Guns

Gore

Robot body horror

Death

Murder

Child death/murder

Self-hatred

Self-harm

Suicidal ideation

Please stay safe.

[saltsicklover]

Pen Pal - Fan Mail Pt. 2

Title: Pen Pal - Fan Mail Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2500

Rating: T

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, Self Loathing.

-- I am writing a part 3 for this so it is to be continued. I hope you enjoy! --

Disclaimer: I do not own Bucky Barnes, or anything related to Marvel within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

When Bucky finally decides he is going to write to his new pen pal, he is knee deep in weeds outside of a long condemned government facility on the outskirts of a fly over town. The tall grass sways around him, the new blooms of flowers catching in the zippers of his tactical pants as he hurries around the property. He can't find it in himself to care about the lights from a helicopter swirling above him, a spotlight directly focused on the building. 

Sam says something over their headset, the coms link crackling with static the closer Bucky gets to the electric fence that holds him securely on the outside of the property. Maybe he was supposed to answer, radio in his location and update on the fact that the fence is indeed live and getting in would be a problem, but all he can think about is how he is going to start that damn letter. 

Is 'hello' too simple? Maybe he should start off with an introduction, right? Like when you meet someone for the first time and you shake hands and give them your name... But they already know who he is, or they at least know enough to have sought him out, so he doesn't technically need to introduce himself. 

He continues to trudge through the thick growth of weeds and flowers around the fence, mumbling to himself as he walks. Just as a thought appears in his head, he sinks ankle deep into sludgy water; dark brown and ice cold, the water seeps into his boot. He curses under his breath, the thought leaving him as quick as it came. The whole incident earns a hearty laugh from Sam, who comes flying his direction, wings spread to the sky like Icarus before the fall. 

Bucky finally gets to sit down two days later to pen out his response; his boots are abandoned in the entryway of his small quarters, one still drying out. He sits at the lonely kitchen table, the warm yellow light from the fixture above him lights the room in a way he doesn't particularly care for, but he decides to sit there anyway. 

There is a fresh legal pad in front of him, the stark yellow of the paper causing a bit of anxiety to churn within his chest. Bucky plays with his pen, twirling it between his fingers, the cap hanging loosely from his lips- he knows better than to chew on it, he really does, yet the first place the cap went when it came off of the pen was straight into his mouth. Maybe it will help with his anxiety, give him something to focus on. At least, that's what he repeats to himself.

"How hard could writing a letter be?" He asks the air around him, leaning in close to the legal pad. He traces over the printed lines with careful eyes, like he is trying to make the words appear without touching pen to paper. "Hell, I was born in 1917, I fought the goddamn Nazis. I can do this." 

"Dear Pen Pal"- He scratches that out. Not good enough, he deems it. 

"Good Morning," - What if it's not morning when they get this? He draws a line through.

"To whom it may concern," - What is this, a fucking death announcement. He scribbles that one out too, with big loopy circles. 

He tears the first page off of the pad, crumpling it up between his hands into a tight little ball. This may be harder than he thought. He gets up from his seat, leaving his legal pad behind. He will come back to it, to this, he promises himself. 

The following night, Steve and Sam drag him out of his quarters for drinks and a few rounds of pool at the local bar. Steve knows better than anyone that drinking is a waste of time now and the money is being wasted on tabs that add up faster than he can blink, but Bucky goes anyway. 

"So, are we going to talk about it, or are we still not talkin' about it?" Sam questions Bucky and Steve, looking over his pint glass at the men setting up the pool table. 

"Dude, seriously?" Bucky hits Steve on the back of the head, palm open and firm. Steve pushed Buck back on the shoulder, more playful than revenge ridden. 

"So we aren't talkin' about it, I see now," Sam sets his glass down on the table. Bucky can't help but focus in on the precipitation that runs down the side of the glass, it's easier than looking Sam in the eye. Steve opens their pool game, the cue ball hitting the arrangement of balls with a sickening crack, dragging Bucky away from his thoughts. 

"I think we should talk about it," Steve's candor slides off his tongue easily and Bucky's skin goes slick with sweat at the words. 

But they don't talk about it, instead the conversation drifts over to Sam and his family. The boat and his sister's constant worry about him, even though he swears she worries more about than damn boat than she does about herself. 

Sam tries to pry into Steve's love life. With his history with the Carter women, things have become rocky and tense in that department; the conversation between friends seems to be even more tense than the situation itself. Bucky and Sam remedy that by knocking back a few more drinks. 

As the night goes on, Steve seems to loosen up, his muscles relaxing making his overall figure seem to droop a bit at the shoulders. Sweat glistens on his brow, a product of the hot and stuffy bar they have been in for hours. Bucky lost interest in pool a long time ago, and darts were no better. 

Now, he is belly up to the bar, sitting in a chair that wobbles back and fourth on the uneven floor as he moves his weight. He is nursing a whiskey sour, a drink that doesn't offer much but burn and he likes it that way-  the burning feeling. It helps him think- feel something other than the self pity that seems to swallow him up, slipping down the throat of the monster that is depraved malignity. 

His attempts to wallow over his own lack of response to his new pen pal are accidentally thwarted by a drunk Sam who stumbles up to him, grabbing his shoulder with a bit too much gusto for Bucky's current mood. 

"Hey Bucky Buddy!" Sam sings, his words swimming with alcohol and scheme. Bucky just rolls him eyes, swiveling to look Sam in the eye. "You know, you need-" Sam's words are interrupted with a hiccup, "You need a plan, tha's wha' you need," Bucky tries to ignore the drunken babbles of his friend, but curiosity gets the better of him. 

"And what plan do you think I need?" Buck questions his friend, who is now pulled up in a chair next to him, a couple of napkins clutched in his hand. Bucky's stomach twists a bit but he watches as Sam leans over the bar, fishing for something out of his line of sight. 

"What the hell are you two up to?" Steve inquires, grabbing both men by the shoulder. Sam mutters out something as he sits back down, a pen in one hand, the crumpled napkins in the other. Bucky only manages a shrug. 

"We are making a plan!" Sam exclaims, writing the word "PLAN" in large, capitol letters on the top of the napkin. He accents it with a squiggly line underneath, grinning like he is hatching a plan to take down mortal enemies instead of helping Bucky write a letter. 

"So, what do you have so far?" Sam asks, looking at Bucky with too much confidence. Bucky just takes a long drink of his whiskey. "Nothing? Seriously!" Steve can only laugh at the display in front of him, his two best friends hunched over a napkin. 

"Why don't we start with a greeting?" Steve suggests. Sam lights up at the idea, and Bucky can't find it in him to disagree. 

"How about "Hello Beautiful?"" Sam throws out, writing it shakily on the napkin. Bucky rips the pen from Sam's hand, quickly writing a dark line through the words. 

"Too forward." He grumbles, adding another bullet point. 

"How about, "Hello, thank you for writing to me"?" Steve asks the group, and the men nod in agreement. Bucky scribbles that down. 

The men begin to pile a list together of all of the potential things to say to Bucky's new pen pal. They take turns writing, mostly banning Sam from adding his drunken thoughts to the list. They write down everything from things Bucky enjoys and how he spends his day to day, to funny stories from the 40's. They write down questions for him to include, each of them wondering who could be on the other side of the paper, writing to Bucky, pouring their heart out to a complete stranger. 

An hour passes and they have filled up three napkins, front and back, with details for Bucky to include. Sam is still drunk, leaning on Steve, both men wearing a wide, goofy grin. The men break for the night, the tab being paid by Steve who hands his card to the bartender without even checking with his friends. 

They wander out of the bar, Sam and Steve clinging to one another, both hell bent of keeping each other from meeting the pavement. Bucky can't help the laugh that bubbles up his throat at the sight before him and the way Steve holds Sam tight around the waist, the other man's arm slung loosely over Steve's neck. 

It reminds him of how he used to carry Steve home from his back alley brawls with men twice his size. Crimson always poured from his nose and the spaces between his too white teeth. The sight always made Bucky nauseous, but he could never let Steve know that, he would never live it down . Maybe it was the blood, or maybe it was seeing Steve strung out from one too many full force punches to the jaw, the cheek, the eye. 

Bucky trails behind Steve and Sam, watching them bumble down the darkened street towards the tower. He thinks about asking if they should catch a cab. He almost asks Steve if he needs help; but, instead, Bucky stops under a lamp post, the orange glow from above illuminating the ink stained napkins he pulls from the pocket of his jacket. He flips them over, fitting the smallest letters he can muster in any blank space he can find with the pen they definitely stole from the bar. 

Bucky writes a note about how Sam clung to the epaulette of Steve's jacket as he fought with his own feet to stay upright. He adds a tidbit about Steve and the way he used to laugh so hard it would send him into asthma induced coughing fits. Bucky desperately wants to tell his pen pal about how Steve was the one who would push every limit and would drag Buck with him, because most people think it's the other way around. He doesn't hold back the laugh that falls from his lips at the memory. He can still hear Steve's choked voice on the wind as they run from a fight that Steve was sure he was going to win- Bucky knew better but never told Steve otherwise. 

Bucky wants to tell them about Sam, and the way he welcomed him into his family, even after everything he has done. He wants to write about Natasha and Clint, hell he wants to write about everyone, but he worries that the moment he starts he is going to be at a loss for words. Excitement thrums through him at the thought of sharing his world with someone else, someone new. 

The moment Bucky makes it home, he sits himself down at his kitchen table again, the yellow legal pad still staring back at him. He pulls his notes out, looking them over before he grabs a pen. He has never been more thankful to have been pulled out to a bar before, and he doubts he ever will. 

"Hello. I want to start by saying thank you for writing to me. If I am being honest, your letter is the first I have ever gotten that wasn't some sort of empty threat. So, thank you for that. I do apologize for taking so long to write back. I have been away with work a lot recently, and I really didn't know what to say to you. 

Your first letter caught me by surprise, both the arrival and the contents. I am pleased to hear that you are well now. 

My friends, Steve and Sam, helped me write a list of all the things I have to write to you about. I guess you can say I have been worried about what I might include in a letter like this, but I am up for the challenge, so to say. 

If you are still willing, I would quite like to write to you. 

Your Pen Pal, Bucky Barnes."

Bucky looks over the letter he has scrawled out on the page. It takes up about a quarter of it, his hand writing somewhere between neat and boyish. He takes his pen and goes over a few letters, making them dark and clear. He reads and rereads it, a hand unconsciously coming up to to press against his chest, over the pocket where he keeps the letters he was written.

He worries that the words he has written won't be enough and that it's too late for him to send such a small letter. He worries that his handwriting is too messy compared to what he received and that they won't be able to read it, even though it is perfectly legible. He tried to dissipate some of the building nerves by running his hands over his jeans, then through his hair and over his beard. His hands move as his eyes scan the letter again. 

It will have to do, he finally decides and folds it up and stuffs it in an envelope so he doesn't have to look at it any longer. He seals it with a quick lick to the back of the envelope, the paper cutting the tip of his tongue. He swears a bit as he presses the fold shut flat. Once it is addressed, he presses an American Flag  Forever Stamp to the corner. He has never considered himself a sentimental guy, but those are the same stamps his Ma bought, so those are the ones he buys too. He runs a fingertip over the name and address of the front as the excitement and anxiety battle in his stomach for dominance. Maybe his pen pal will write back, maybe, maybe, maybe. 

TAG LIST

@vicmc624

@cjand10