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eddiesghxst · 1 year ago

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PRICE OF FAME (PART 12/12)

AHHH !! friends, we've come to the end of my first fully done series, and she's not perfect in a lot of ways but she's mine and I'm so happy and thankful to have shared it with you lovely folks

i hope I've done them justice, enjoy <3

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: you decide to visit eddie for a chat

contains: enemies to lovers trope, drug and alcohol use, smut, oral (m receiving), mentions of anal, mentions of death (readers relative), sexual themes, angst, heavy mutual pining, fluff, and eddie being so head over heels that it's hot <3

word count: 10.6k

| previous part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

“So, from the new album— Wasting Love.”

Over time, Eddie’s learned that he can’t stand interviews— especially interviews with questions aimed towards nothing but tabloid gossip and headlines. The first big interview that Corroded Coffin booked was exciting because— well, it was their first one! Maybe the questions weren’t as intricate and thought-out as the ones they gave David Bowie on TV, but it was something.

That excitement wore off quickly, though, and unfortunately, interviews are one of the top ways to spread publicity so— “Wasting love,” Eddie huffs, tipping his hips forward as he shifts on the couch. He’s bored out of his mind, aching to leave and be done with the shitty questions about his love life or the people he hangs around or whatever. He taps the heel of his foot into the ground, lips twisting as he chews at the inside of his cheek, “What about it, man?” Eddie asks.

The rest of the band is in the fucking clouds— why would they answer a question about a song entirely unrelated to them? Plus, Eddie’s 99.9% sure they did a few lines without him, which, fucking assholes.

The interviewer shrugs, “Well, why didn’t it make it to the final cut? And what’s it about? Tell us more about that track.”

What a bullshit fucking question.

Wasting Love is one of the most, if not the most, straightforward songs Eddie’s ever fucking written. The only reason why he’s asking about this is because, well, there’s been rumors of Eddie and his most recent love affair— none of which are true, but Eddie doesn’t bother to come out and tell the truth because what’s the point? What’s the point in telling the truth if it will get twisted anyway?

Either way, Eddie shrugs, blinking behind his dark sunglasses, “I mean…” He purses his lips and tips his head side to side as if thinking, “Kinda self-explanatory with the lyrics, man.” He finally responds.

And in the background, Eddie can see Richie practically constructing his next ‘I know you hate it, but it’s good publicity’ lecture. So, Eddie relents— “It’s about… meaningless sex basically. And it didn’t make the cut because it was a shitty song.”

It wasn’t, actually, Eddie thinks it was a great fucking song, but the intentions behind it— not quite so.

“I think the fans would disagree on that.” The interviewer jokes.

Jeff takes a deep breath and shifts in his seat, “I mean, part of it was because it just didn’t flow with the essence of the album.” He adds, and Eddie mentally thanks him for taking over and so easily diverting the topic to something else. For the rest of the interview, Eddie’s mind is elsewhere, thinking about everything outside of this room, thinking about what he’ll eat later, thinking about the show tonight, thinking about you.

Yeah, you haven’t left his fucking mind in the past six months you’ve been apart from one another. It’s been six months, and Corroded Coffin has released two albums and started their second leg of tour since he last saw you— and you’re still all he thinks about.

You’re still in his dreams, still dancing behind his eyelids when he shuts his eyes, still vomiting all over his fucking journal when he writes. It’s madness, really. Eddie can’t remember the last time he was this hung up on someone— he wasn’t even this distraught when Chrissy left him.

Sure when he and Chrissy ended, he wallowed in it for a month or two, but it wasn’t long before he got fixed on uppers and groupies. Chrissy was heartbreaking in the sense that she was his first love, his first real relationship— but this… this is different. Eddie doesn’t know why it’s different, can’t really pinpoint where the colors change, and the memories start to jab at his chest differently, but he feels it.

He feels it when he’s sitting backstage before a show, feels it when he steps into a new hotel room every night, feels it when he’s ruffling through his suitcase and comes across that journal that’s been haunting him for ages now, and he definitely feels it when he reads the fifth page in the Rolling Stone magazine where the description of Eddie resides, the one where you’d crafted and molded Eddie into a shape he’d never been able to see before, the one where Eddie first came to terms with the true sight of you and your intentions.

Yeah, it’s fucking bullshit, Eddie thinks.

He doesn’t know how he ended up in this predicament, but by god, he would never fucking recommend it because— fuck, you won’t even talk to him!

And sure, you don’t owe Eddie anything, you don’t owe him a call or a chance to visit or anything of the sort, but Eddie was holding onto that sliver of hope you gave him before you left.

He asks about you when he can, because, unbeknownst to you, Eddie’s quite familiar with your boss, Anna, and she’s like an annoying older sister to him. Anna tells Eddie how much of an idiot he is occasionally, but she always cracks and tells Eddie that you’ve been good and how you sometimes mention him, but it’s always quick, and nobody ever has room to pry about it. And when Anna tells Eddie about how you crossed paths backstage with a certain red-headed girl and read her to filth, Eddie chuckles and mumbles something along the lines of, “That’s my girl.”

Anna nearly gagged then.

Still, Eddie only catches glimpses and whispers of you, never really getting the full fix to last him a day, but it’s enough to keep him alive and wanting.

“Maybe she doesn’t get your calls, man.” Gareth shrugs, leaning into the mirror as he ruffles his hair. It’s been hours since the interview now, and showtime is in… Eddie doesn’t know when because he didn’t listen when Richie was rambling on about tonight’s schedule.

“She gets my calls, dude; Anna said she does,” Eddie grumbles.

“Okay, well, then maybe she’s just, like, over it. I don’t blame her; you're a pain in the ass.”

Eddie kicks his boot into Gareth’s shin, and the boy hisses, tossing a red Rillos wrapper at him. “Ow, asshole. It’s not my fault she hates your music.” He snips. Eddie makes a face, “It’s your music too, dumbass.”

Gareth scoffs, “Yeah, but you wrote an entire fucking album about her. Our album is literally about her, you know that, right?” And Eddie thinks he should just kick Gareth’s teeth in at this point, maybe that’ll get him to shut up. “How would you know it’s about her if I never told you it was?” Eddie prods.

Gareth rolls his eyes, dark eyeliner casting a shadow on his face as he turns to glare at his friend. “Is there another chick you’ve been fucking that’s got you by the balls that we seem to have forgotten about?” Gareth sarcastically asks. Eddie glares at him, reaching for the cigarettes on the vanity table and sparking up.

He speaks around a cloud of smoke when he answers, “No.”

Gareth makes a face, eyebrows raising in an ‘I rest my case' manner. “And she’s not a chick,” Eddie adds.

Gareth hums with a tight grin, reaching out to poke at his friend's face, causing Eddie to grimace and bat him away, “You’re in love, Munson. Fix it or get over it,” He says shortly before making his way toward the door. Eddie can hear the dull scream of fans when Gareth opens the door, and Eddie thinks about the tickets he’s sent you every show— prays to whatever false god there is that you decided tonight is the night before he decides hope is useless and you’ve gotten over him. Gareth cuts through Eddie’s thoughts, “Come on, I can hear Richie’s bitching from here.”

Eddie’s mind is never in the game until he steps onto the stage, with bright lights blinding him, screaming fans, and his adrenaline at an all-time high. He comes back to earth then, comes back, and does the fuck out of his job— because this is the best part. The best fucking part, and it’s always been that way.

And it gets better when Eddie scans the crowd, coming down from the first song of the night and finally taking a look at his audience, and there he sees it— he sees you. There you are under flashing lights, drowning in a sea of people with that glint in your eyes.

Eddie thinks he’s imagining it because, fuck, he’s been dreaming of this for weeks on end; surely his delusion can reach the heights of hallucinations, right? But no, you’re real.

You’re so fucking real. So fucking insanely real beneath Eddie’s fingertips when he reaches out, ignoring the screams and clawing of fans as his fingers loop around your wrists and he says your name.

God, you’re really fucking here.

Eddie looks prettier than you remember when you first see him— curly mane draped over his shoulders and dark tattoos glistening on a bare torso, white lights framing him like he’s some kind of fucking archangel.

He’s gotten thicker in the few months, beefier around his arms and chest, and the long chains and pendants he wears from his neck rest down the valley of his torso, smeared in sweat and sin. You want to drag your tongue across his chest, taste the salt and his cologne, tug the silver cross between your lips, and suck and make him whimper.

His eyeliner is smudged and dark, and his smile when he gets a moment to take in the crowd makes your chest ache. He’s so pretty it hurts. He’s a dream and a nightmare all at once.

You missed him. God, you missed him so much.

His smile falters when he sees you, and you don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but his eyebrows pinch like he’s in pain, and you only want to wrap yourself around him and breathe in that scent that’s been haunting for nights on end.

He’s insane for jumping down to the barricade, like, completely-lost-his-fucking-mind, down-in-the-gutter, insane. But you can’t find it in you to protest when he steps up to the fence, reaching out and looping his warm finger around your wrist. “What the fuck?”

Your lips twitch into a smile at his words, but the crowd is getting rowdy with their beloved rockstar so up close and an elbow is being shoved into your side and Eddie moves quicker than you can comprehend, tugging you forward to the very front and motioning you to jump over.

“You’re insane!” You yell over the noise of the crowd. Eddie grins, damp curls dangling over his eyes as he peers down at you, “Unless if you wanna get crushed, be my guest.”

It’s slightly difficult, and there are a lot of gangly limbs and yearning hands reaching out everywhere, but Eddie eventually gets you over the barricade, and you’re gazing up at him with a warm grin when you sway on your feet. You wish you and Eddie could just walk away and have each other like you’ve been imagining for months, but Eddie has a job, and he’s working.

His eyes are blown wide, and his lips are so kissable, and his warm hand is squeezing your hip as he nods toward a security guard. “Keep an eye on this one, Rob,” He shouts over the screaming fans. You’re eyeing Eddie as he steps back toward the stage, sinking his in-ear back into place with a sly grin as he winks, “She’s real sneaky.”

The show is great, as it always is, and Eddie tries to be deft about it, but it’s evident to just about everyone how he practically clings to the side of the stage where you’re standing in front of. It’s cute, you’ll admit, but you feel bad for the fans, so you try to move around a bit.

The last song comes, and the show ends with Eddie and Jeff practically climbing over one another as they shred their guitars and the crowd goes insane when Eddie leans forward to drag his tongue up the side of Jeff’s face, grinning when the other boy rolls his eyes and walks off.

You’re being pulled backstage quicker than you know it, just in time to meet the group as they jog off the smokey stage with big grins on their faces.

Jeff is smothering Naomi in a sweaty hug and smattering kisses all over her face, and you’re glad to see they’re still together. Gareth is twirling his drumstick between his fingers and scanning the room for someone, but you don’t have time to try and figure out who because the one person you’ve been waiting for steps out next, and he’s got the biggest grin on his face as he practically jogs up to you.

You’re smiling and giggling out a greeting as he steps up to you and grasps your face between his hands, “No kisses!” You warn before he can lean in, and Eddie’s too excited to even pout about it. “You’re gonna fucking kill me, you know that?”

You reach up to slink your fingers around his wrists as his thumbs caress the soft skin beneath your eyes, “Got enough life left in you to talk?” You ask. Eddie’s eyes dance across your face, taking you in like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance to before he nods. “Always.”

The dressing room seems to be the altar of truth for you and Eddie.

It’s dawning on you that most of the pivotal moments between you and Eddie have been in a dressing room, so it’s not irrational for you to feel a bit uneasy when you step in, and Eddie closes the door.

He’s like a kid in a candy store, trying not to touch what he sees. His eyes are so bright, but you can tell he’s holding himself back from doing and saying the things he wants, and you appreciate that he’s giving you the space, waiting for you to give him your yes or no.

Eddie plops onto the couch in the middle of the room and looks at you with a glint in his eyes. You deeply breathe, shifting in your spot before leaning back against the door, tipping your head as you study him; thighs comfortably spread, inked stories fluttering to life with each rise and fall of his bare torso. He’s a dream.

“I thought you’d be way more upset.”

Eddie’s lips tug like he wants to smile at the sound of your voice, or maybe it’s the sight of you, and he shifts in his seat with a shrug, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a cigarette and sticks it between his lips, and when you see him pat himself down, you’re already moving like it’s muscle memory.

You pick up the lighter on the coffee table and walk over to Eddie, sparking the flame as you speak, “You’re allowed to be upset, you know?” You remind him. Eddie’s gaze flickers in color as he looks up at you, and you try to ignore the goosebumps that rise up on your skin when his hand reaches up to rest on your hip, thumb caressing you over the material of your skintight dress. Streams of fire are licking up your spine as he leans forward to burn the end of the paper stick, and your center aches when he gently squeezes the fat of your hip. All throughout this, Eddie never lets his eyes fall from you.

He mumbles a short thank you once the cigarette lights, leaning back to rest against the seat as he looks up at you. You fight the urge to comb your fingers through his hair or do something dumb like climb into his lap. No doubt talking would fly out the window then.

You gently toss the lighter onto the coffee table and sit on the loveseat across from the pinnacle of your thoughts from the last six months. Eddie speaks around a cloud of smoke, “Do you want me to be upset?” He asks.

You shrug, trying your hardest not to break beneath his unwavering eye. “I don’t know.”

Eddie smiles then, and the strings of your heart play a symphony to the notes of his voice when he speaks, “I was for a little bit,” He admits, tapping ash onto the carpet, “But then Wayne told me to get my head out of my ass.”

You huff out a laugh at that, and Eddie grins. “How is he?” You ask. Eddie tips his head back and forth like he’s thinking, “Same old man as before. Think he’s got a girlfriend now. He’s being an asshole about the details, though.” He rolls his eyes, and you snort. You’re happy to hear Wayne has a person for himself now; if anyone deserves it, it’s him.

You shift, like you can’t seem to get comfortable enough, and you know you’re stalling, and you can see Eddie fighting to not call you out, so you try to ease into it; “Is that when you stopped calling?” You ask.

Eddie stiffens under the question, and you know the answer. He grimaces and runs a hand over his face with a soft groan, “Fuck,” he curses, “Fuck, yeah, it was.” He answers. “I’m sorry, I’m a fuckin’ hothead. I had made it a goal to call every night and then—” “I upset you.”

Eddie’s eyes are soft, and you have to force yourself to keep your eyes on his, “It wasn’t fair what I did, Eddie; I’m sorry—”

Eddie shakes his head, briefly shutting his eyes as he waves you off, “Nah, fuck that. You don’t need to apologize—” “But I do. I told you I wanted space, and then a week later, I’m plastered on a fucking cover with Baine fucking Carter.”

Baine Carter is a well-known songwriter within the industry. He’s got tracks spread all over the top charts, and he has a way of talking that can make just about anyone fall into a trance until you realize most of what he’s saying is just made-up bullshit. In hindsight, Baine wasn’t much different than most people in the music industry— it was a moment of weakness and pure vodka-weighted thinking. And, of course, it’s the moment when cameras find you.

“Kinda my fault too,” Eddie shrugs, “Camera’s wouldn’t have found you if I didn’t have press riding me.” And he’s right, but shitty press isn’t his fault, so how much of that can you really blame him for?

Eddie snickers at the memory of you painted on the cover of several magazines, “Think you’ve got a type, sweetheart.” He teases. Your face screws up in defense, and you scoff, “What does that mean?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, “Come on, you’re gonna tell me you didn’t say my name when he—” “We didn’t do anything— firstly— and even if I did say your name, I would never in a million years admit it.” You point out with a raised eyebrow.

Eddie smirks with a playful glint in his eye and he deeply breathes as he ashes his cigarette and rises to his feet. “I don’t care that you hooked up with Bain fucking Carter,” Eddie softly admits with a hint of a mocking grin, “Did it deeply wound me to the point where I almost thought I was gonna die? Yes.” He jokingly says, to which you want to roll your eyes at, but he’s stalking over to you like he’s some lion on the prowl, and all you can muster is a small huff with a mumbled, “You’re dramatic.”

Eddie stands in front of you and leans over to press his palms onto each side of your seat, leaning down until his face hovers above yours, “I’m kinda known for it, darling.” He winks.

Your core stirs at the proximity, and you can feel his breath against your top lip. “I will admit, though,” Eddie lets his hand drop to round over your bare knee, callused fingertips caressing your soft skin, “It gave me a huge ego boost seeing you with a literal replica of me.” He snickers, fingers dancing into the inside of your thigh. You huff, a playful glint in your eyes as you run your tongue across your teeth, “Yeah, I imagine your head couldn’t fit through the door for at least a month, huh?”

Eddie shrugs, “Depends. Which head we talking about, honey?”

You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes when he gently squeezes at the warm skin of your thigh. You tip your head lower, holding your gaze on Eddie as you lowly speak, “I’m not having sex with you tonight, Eddie.”

Brown eyes flash with a familiar look you’d missed before they drop to your lips. “What about a kiss? Just one.” He presses. Your eyes narrow, “I doubt you could ever do just one.”

“You’ll never know if you never try.” His lips twitch up into a sly grin, taunting you and pushing you until your brain is just a muddled mess of yes, no, yes, no, yes, n— fuck it.

It’s like a sigh of relief to have Eddie’s lips on yours after such a long time. Weeks of nights and days spent trying to remember how it felt having his plump lips pressed onto yours, how he tasted, how warm his tongue was when it slunk into your mouth. None of those times you’d try to remember, none of those phantom feelings that would breeze through your body could ever amount to how it actually feels— it’s as if you’re seeing color for the first time.

It’s a fucking kiss, that’s for sure.

It’s long, and it takes you both a second to relearn the kinks and maneuvers you both favor, but then it’s as if time never passed between your bodies— you’re moving like one unit, like every second of your lives has built up to this moment.

Unfortunately, air is a necessity to living, so you’re pulling away sooner than you’d wanted to. Eddie’s other hand is digging into the cushion beneath you, and you can practically hear his thoughts spinning as he wills himself to pull back. You shiver as his fingers squeeze your thigh one last time before slipping away.

“How's that for a kiss?”

Brown eyes with pools of liquid gold, you missed the searing pain it gave you each time you reached out and touched. You purse your lips, tasting him on your tongue as you tip your head in thought— menthol and whiskey. “Care to answer a few questions? Pick up on our game?”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, breath tickling your nose as he snickers with a glint in his eyes. He studies you for a moment, like you might pull out and say never mind, but you only raise an eyebrow as you await an answer. “Your place or mine, honey?” He drawls.

You preen at the open door he’s lent you, “It’s your city, isn’t it?”

You don’t take the same car with Eddie to his place.

It’s not that you didn’t want to take the same car, but something about that look in Eddie’s eyes said that he absolutely wouldn’t be behaving on that car ride, and you immediately suggested separate vehicles. You’re unsure if you trust yourself to hold your promise in a confined space with Eddie… or maybe you don’t trust him… or— yeah, it’s both of you. Eddie wasn’t ecstatic about it, but you don’t care because you swear to god you aren’t going to fuck Eddie before you talk— like, really talk.

There are things that you both need to say, uncover, and express feelings about, and god forbid you get dicknotized before the words can come out correctly.

Eddie’s home is everything you thought it would be: chaotic in taste, lively, musical, whimsical, and all things that scream Eddie. The entryway is open and vast, with a clear view into the living room, where you can see a sunken living room build with guitars and papers strewn about.

Eddie’s ushering you further into his home before you can look deeper into the entrance, but you don’t mind because his living area is like an artist's wet dream. There are comfy couches, red, cream, and colors alike, and there’s a rug in the middle that looks like a psychedelic trip of dark colors, and along one of the walls is a long shelf of endless records.

“I moved in like a year ago, so it’s not perfect, but… this is me,” Eddie says. You hadn’t been paying attention, but now that he walks into your line of vision, you can see his shoes are off, and his loose blouse is fully open. He looks like a fantasy; lean body dripped in expensive clothes and clinking jewelry, shoulders broad and sculpted beneath his wavy hair. Fuck.

You slip your shoes off and let your feet sink into his home's fluffy, deep red carpet, never once dropping your gaze from him as you walk over to the couch. “It’s beautiful, Eddie. It’s very you.”

You sink into his couch, turning so you can face him with your arms crossed over the back of the sofa as you watch him pick a record and set it up. Through the surround system of his home, the familiar riff to Tommy Bolin’s Shake The Devil rings. You watch Eddie sink a hand into his hair, shaking out his messy curls before pausing. The guitar is loud and you’re leaning forward when he snaps his head to dramatically look over his shoulder. You stifle a laugh, intrigued to see where he’s going with this— and you hate to admit that you begin enjoying the show when he turns around, fingers crafted and messily playing an air guitar to the track.

His stomach and chest flex with each of his moves, the buckle and button to his jeans open to flash you a dangerously low view of his happy trail leading to sinful places. He’s walking sex; head tilted back as he shreds the imaginary guitar, hips moving with the song as he walks toward you. He sinks to his knees in front of you, and with his living room being sunken and him still being on the higher level, you’re just in line with the view of his spread legs, crotch on full display. His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he gazes at you, switching to air drums before the words kick in. You can’t hide the smile that graces your lips as he dramatically sings along, leaning forward until his face is just inches in front of yours, ringed fingers reaching to cup your face. Standing face to face with the devil, huh?

Your hands have a mind of their own apparently because they reach out and coast up Eddie’s jean-clad thighs, nails scratching up against the material until your fingers hook into the belt loops of his jeans. You lean forward on your knees, sharing a breath with the pretty boy, and you smile. Eddie groans low in his throat, the breakdown of the song blasting in both your ears and your heart racing. His teeth dig into his lips like he’s trying to physically hold himself back, and you softly laugh. “Laughin’ at my misery?” He asks.

You shrug, “Maybe. You look fuckin’ hot.”

Eddie groans again, eyes rolling back into his head before he dives forward, nuzzling his face into your neck and faking a bite as you squeal. “Can’t say shit like that to me, princess. Wanna fuck the shit out of you.” His teeth drag against your pulse, and you squirm with a louder squeal, causing him to tumble forward, collapsing onto the couch with you, and your limbs mix like one big painting as he dramatically grunts on impact. He shifts until he’s laid on his back, head resting in your lap as he peers up at you.

“You staying the night?” He asks.

You snort, brushing a strand of hair from his face, “Didn’t I tell you we’re not having sex?” You remind him. Eddie huffs and digs his head into your lap as he shuffles in his spot, “Did I ask for sex just now?” He challenges. You raise an unconvinced eyebrow, “So, you want me to spend the night just to spend the night?”

Eddie’s eyes gleam as he looks up at you, “It’s been my dream.”

You roll your eyes, playfully shoving him off you with a huff, “Get me a drink, and I’ll think about it?”

Eddie hops up as if second nature, padding over to the stereo and turning it down just enough to hear you as he talks over his shoulder, “Sure thing, honey; what would you like?”

Honey, honey, honey.

You want to drown in it.

You’re not listening as Eddie lists off the drinks he has, busy swirling in sticky, sweet, golden lakes and admiring the shift of Eddie’s hips and ass beneath his jeans. “Surprise me.” You respond.

“Copy that, madam.”

He doesn’t go far because there’s a built-in bar on the other side of the room, so you have the perfect view of him working his magic, mixing liquor and dropping ice cubes into a crystal glass. When he finishes making your drink, he turns and walks over to you with this glint in his eyes, and you feel your body heat under his gaze. “This one's on the house,” He says with a wink, handing you the drink. You thank him, taking the glass as he sits back onto the couch, sinking into the plush cushions and watching you gently sip before pulling a sour face.

He laughs, “Too strong?” He asks. You grimace with a shake of your head, smacking your lips, “No, no, it’s good. Thank you.”

Your legs are kicked up on the couch, and Eddie finds his fingers slinking around your bare ankle, gently squeezing, “Want something comfy?” He asks.

God, he’s relentless.

You laugh, “You really want me to stay,” You tease. Eddie sinks like he’s letting all inhibitions go as he answers, “Desperately.”

He can tell you’re cracking, and you have to hide your grin behind the glass as you shake your head in disbelief at yourself, “Fine. Go, before I change my mind.”

And Eddie’s sprinting up, holding his jeans up from falling as he jogs up the stairs with a happy cheer.

A half-hour passes, and you find yourself sitting on Eddie’s comfy living room floor, dressed in nothing but an oversized shirt of his because, in Eddie’s words, ‘there’s no need for pants in a home setting, sweetheart.’ You think he just wants easy access and an eyeful of your bare legs.

Eddie’s licking up the crease of a blunt and your body is warm with whiskey and the shrill of a jazzy melody from the radio. He’s so pretty, leaned over the glass coffee table, bare shoulders flexing, curly hair draping as a curtain as he works. He clicks his tongue when he’s done, and you raise an eyebrow, pressing your bare toes into his thigh when he scoots closer. “Up for a smoke?” He asks.

You don’t smoke much, not that you don’t enjoy a nice high, but you find yourself more appreciative of your highs when they’re spaced out and random. You nod, and Eddie grins, “Atta girl. Here, honorary first hit,” He passes the blunt to you, and you snicker, grasping it between two fingers and holding it up to your lips. Eddie helps you with a lighter, leaning forward to burn the end of the paper, and you take one good drag before pulling the bunt away, rolling the smoke into your lungs to settle as best as you can handle before you sputter out in a small coughing fit.

Your eyes water, and Eddie grins as you pass it to him, leaning forward to kiss your temple, “That was good, baby.”

You watch as he takes a hit of his own, huffing out a few coughs of his own, and jesus christ, why do rockstars always smoke devious shit? It’s strong, whatever Eddie has you smoking, and it only takes you three hits before you already feel a buzz coming, and Eddie looks so pretty with low eyes and rosy cheeks.

“Ready to play our game?” He rasps out.

“Mm.” You agree, reaching out to take another hit.

“Did you listen to the albums?”

I can't destroy what isn't there

Deliver me into my fate

If I'm alone I cannot hate

I don't deserve to have you

Oh my smile was taken long ago

If I can change I hope I never know

God, did you listen to the albums? Sure, you have it ingrained into your fucking mind, and it burns.

You smile, slowly blinking because, of course, that’s Eddie’s first question. You breathe out clouds of fairy dust as you speak, “Yes, I did. Did you read the magazine?” You ask.

Eddie nods, leaning back against the couch, extending his legs out as he eyes you, “I did. Which song did you like best?”

“Mm, the one with the drums.” You smile.

Eddie laughs, and you pass the blunt back to him before leaning back on the opposite couch, toes almost touching when you extend your legs across the carpet. “You’re a kiss-up, you know that?” He gestures to you, to which you only shrug.

Eddie crawls across the living room, and you fight the urge to reach out and thread your fingers through his hair as he plops himself right next to you, leaning against the couch as well. Your thighs are touching, and you can feel the warmth of him, and the smell of weed is wafting through the air, and you just want to nuzzle into Eddie’s chest and never leave.

“Miss me?” You teasingly ask. You can hear the slight smile in Eddie’s voice as he responds, “Negative. You?”

You snort, “Negative.”

You shuffle to lean against Eddie, and he can’t seem to help it when he reaches out to push your hair back gently. “What do you wanna be when you grow up?” You ask.

Eddie’s eyebrows pinch in confusion, no doubt lost by what you mean, considering he already has his lifetime job figured out, “What do you mean?”

You sigh, wriggling as you fight the urge to wrap your body around him, “I mean,” You shrug, “Well, you’re not gonna do this forever, right? Like, at some point, you’re going to have to throw in the towel, age, and whatnot,” You dismissively wave, “What will you do then?”

Eddie pauses and thinks for a moment, and if you couldn’t feel the warmth of his skin on yours, you would think he vanished into thin air. “I, uh…. Well, you’ll think it’s stupid.” He mumbles.

You frown, turning your head to look at him, “I won’t. Tell me. Please?”

He looks at you with these soft, fond eyes before nodding, “I wanna start a music school in Hawkins— maybe, like, a creative arts school, you know, something for the weirdos. Not just music geeks.” He admits. His tone is so soft, maybe the softest you’ve ever heard, and he’s fiddling with his rings like he’s nervous, and it’s the cutest sight you’ve ever seen.

“It’s not really celebrated there. Creativity, I mean.” He adds.

You stay quiet, allowing him to speak, “Everybody just lives to work dead-end jobs. Being creative is like… a sin or something, I don’t know. I just want to give the kids somewhere where they’ll feel… safe. Seen. Something I never got for myself.”

It’s… it’s fucking brilliant. It’s so brilliant it makes your chest ache, and you decide that you would do just about anything to make sure Eddie’s dreams of a music school come true.

“I told you it’s stupid. No one ever thinks it’s good.” He mumbles after a moment with your silence. You frown and shake your head, sitting up straight to look at him. “No. No, Eddie, it’s amazing…It’s fucking amazing, and you should do it. You have to do it.”

“You’re just playing nice.”

“No, seriously. Fuck whoever said it wasn’t a good idea, it’s brilliant.” You press on, and you want to lean in and pepper kisses all over his face because— seriously, who the fuck told him it was a shitty idea?

“I grew up in a small town too, and— shit, it was not fun wanting to be something other than a nurse or a teacher. Got a lot of shit trying to ‘reach for the stars’,” You huff out a laugh. Eddie’s eyes are so gentle as they gaze at you that you almost melt. “I would’ve appreciated something like that. Munson’s School of Arts.”

Eddie snorts at that, pink lacing with yours as a smile spreads across your lips, “Not bad actually, I might name it that.”

It’s a back and forth of that for a while, silly questions amongst genuine ones until you find yourselves sat next to each other, arms pressed together, bodies yearning to wrap around each other as you fiddle with the strings of Eddie’s carpet. And there’s something, you know. Eddie feels something that he’s not telling you, and it’s killing you because it’s what you need to hear before you take the plunge. “Are you angry with me?” You softly ask.

Eddie’s quiet for a moment, and the blunt was snuffed out a while ago, so he’s not taking a drag but instead just stalling. “I mean,” he pauses, “I already told you, Birdie. What’s the point in going back on it?”

You frown, glancing at him, “Because I want you to tell me how you feel, Eddie.” You respond.

Eddie’s silent again for a longer moment, and you want to whine when he shifts away to sit in front of you. He folds his legs up, resting his elbows over his knees as he sits face to face with you, “Do you want me to be angry with you?” He steadily asks.

Your blink, “I— no?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, and you huff, “Honestly, a little bit, yes. It’s okay to be angry with me, Eddie; that’s what I’m trying to say.”

Eddie’s demeanor is unwavering as he blinks at you, but his tone is accusing, “Do you want me to be angry with you so you can feel justified?”

And, ouch.

That’s not the truth at all. Or maybe it’s some truth, but in your true feelings, that’s not what you mean. It’s only a fleeting thought because you’re human, after all, right?

“That’s not fair,” You frown with a small shake of your head. Eddie raises another eyebrow, and you tilt your head, “I’m only trying to be as transparent as possible, Eddie. That was the main issue.” You remind him.

Eddie turns to the coffee table, grabs your forgotten glass of Jack Daniels, and takes a swig for himself. “You wouldn’t tell me how you felt, and I was always left in the dark.” You say.

“And I’m telling you right now that I’m not angry.” He’s teetering on the edge of irritated now, and you tilt your head. “I listened to the album, Eddie. I listened to the song; you’re seriously gonna tell me you’re not angry?”

Eddie can only glance at you then, and your frown deepens. “That’s… different.”

“How, Eddie? It’s about me—” “Yeah, because you fucking walked out on me on closing night,” Eddie exclaims. “How was I supposed to feel?”

Your chest tightens as you look into the eyes of your dreams, lyrics swirling in your mind because you’ve fucking memorized every word. You listened to it until you felt sick, dizzy with a whirlwind of regrets and what-ifs.

You sold me out to save yourself

And I won't listen to your shame

You ran away, you're all the same

Angels lie to keep control

Your chest aches when the lyrics echo in your mind.

“I just want you to be honest with me. If I made you feel that way—” “No, that’s not—” Eddie shakes his head, pinches the bridge of his nose, and cringes like it's painful. “That’s not it at all— fuck.” He puts the glass down and scoots back over to you; knees pressed into the fluffy carpet beside your thighs as he leans in and cups your face, eyes darting over your pretty features. “I was angry, and I was a shithead, and I had people talking in my ear and— shit. Please don’t think you ever blame yourself for that, please.”

Your fingers are cold, but Eddie’s wrists are warm beneath your fingertips as you frown up at him, “Just tell me how far out you are, Eds.”

Eddie looks at you with soft eyes, a callused thumb running under the delicate skin beneath your eye. He leans forward, pressing his lips against your forehead, and you preen, nuzzling forward and sinking into his warmth and scent that you’ve missed for so long.

“Not far,” He responds, lips brushing over your skin. “You?”

You hum, body reeling as Eddie slinks his arms around you, “Not far.”

Forty minutes and another blunt later, and Eddie’s floating in the fucking sky.

Eddie can’t believe it really, having you in front of him, next to him, limbs pressed to limbs with your laugh ringing in his ears— Eddie thinks this is some sick, realistic dream.

It’s tender, the space you’ve both created. You’re both fragile and reactive in the best way, like a healing exposed nerve, and Eddie will be forever in your debt for how patient you are with him. He’s not good at talking about real shit, but he’s trying to fix that, and you make it easier because you push him in the way he needs to be— you encourage him to say what he feels even if he’s afraid he might end up shooting himself in the foot and chasing you away again because— ‘It’s the only way things will get better.’

But you’ve always been patient. You were patient six months ago, and you’re patient now. You know exactly what you want, and you’re firm in what you say and feel, and it makes Eddie feel safe.

He’s never had this kind of thing— he’s never had a relationship where someone talks and leaves room for him to speak as well— two-way communication or whatever the fuck Robin says. It’s different, and it’s good, and Eddie thinks he must have shit taste if it’s taken him this long to realize it.

Chrissy never really cared for what Eddie wanted or preferred, or how something she did would make him feel. Eddie, at the time, didn’t think much of it and was more than happy to ride along with her ‘low maintenance’ nature, but it only cut him off from growth more than anything.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore because Chrissy is in the past, and you— you’re so pretty standing on Eddie’s couch in just his shirt with a blunt hanging between your fingers. You’ve just returned from changing the record— Surrealistic Pillow; Eddie knew the second you dropped the needle and watched you spin around with a shit-eating grin.

“Hippie shit,” Eddie mutters as you hop down from his couch. Your eyes narrow, “Hey,” you nudge your foot against his thigh, “Don’t be an asshole. It was on your shelf anyway.”

Eddie slinks his hand around your calf, blinking up at you as you stand over him. You reach down, the burning blunt standing between your fingers, and Eddie happily parts his lips to let you slip the tip in. Burning sativa licks up the sides of Eddie’s brain, and he melts when your other hand sinks into his hair, gently pressing his bangs back as his eyes flutter. You hum, and Eddie’s lips tip into a smile as the smoke churns in his chest. Your knuckles curl into his roots, and Eddie could fucking cum right now, no questions asked.

He’s harder than a rock, and he’s not ashamed when he sinks his hand down the open fly on his jeans to palm himself, lowly groaning as he tips his head up, playfully blowing clouds of smoke up your shirt and grinning when you squeal. He chuckles, hand slinking further up your leg to grip the fat of your thigh as he tilts his head to nip his teeth at the inside of your knee.

He turns to let his chin rest on your thigh, blinking up at you with hazy eyes, “Let me in, baby.” He pleads.

You sink to your knees until you’re face to face, and Eddie’s hands glide under your shirt, warm and itching to explore as he feels the flutter of your lungs beneath his fingertips. “No funny business, Munson.” You remind him, swatting him away when his fingers prod at the cup of your bra. Eddie grins, brain fuzzy and warm, and he can’t stop himself from leaning forward and planting a quick kiss against your lips.

“I have something for you.” He says. Your eyebrows raise, and Eddie smiles, standing up with a grunt and shaking out his stiff limbs. “Don’t move,” He points to you before padding off.

The gift Eddie has for you has been with him since the fourth week he knew you. He’s been holding onto it for so long because he’s been a coward and didn’t know how to form the words ‘I’m sorry’ with his tongue— but now, Eddie’s riding on a high, and he needs you and wants you all the time and there’s no better time than now, right?

He’s holding the gift behind his back when he steps into the living room, and he smiles at the sight of you laid out on his floor, eyes closed as you sink into the music. You’re on cloud nine, Eddie can tell.

He drops to his knees over you, pressing his free hand into the floor beside your head, and his hair creates a curtain over you when you look up at him. “You look… tempting, to say the least.”

Your eyes playfully narrow at Eddie, and you squirm beneath him, “What’re you hiding behind your back?”

There are tears in your eyes as you blink down at the gift in your hands, and you know Eddie must think you’re insane for crying over a book— a journal at that. It’s a pale yellow colored leather, with two leather straps that are tied into a neat bow, and in the corner, your name is stamped in tiny cursive gold letters— your real name.

It’s a replica of your old journal, the one that had gotten ruined when you tore the pages out to prove a point. But you don’t understand— “How did you get this?” You ask in a soft voice.

Eddie grins, reaching out to thumb at your bottom lip, eyes soft as he watches your eyes dance over the journal. “Called in a favor from Michigan.” He jokingly says. Your chest aches, and you frown when you look up at him, fingers tight around the binding of your gift, “You talked to him?”

Eddie snickers, “Yeah. Got a lot of shit from him first, I’ll tell you that,” He pauses and scratches at the back of his neck, “He told me he hates my music.”

You laugh at that, body warm with adoration because, yeah, that sounds like your grandfather. You sniffle, wiping under your eyes, “How did you know?” You ask.

Eddie shrugs as he sits next to you, “The cover of your journal had his name on it, so I kind of pieced it together since you share a last name.”

You don’t know what to think, what to say. It’s the kindest thing Eddie (or anyone) has ever done for you. Your grandfather had been in the business of handmaking journals for as long as you can remember; he was part of the reason why you took such a liking to journalism. He had a brief history in journalism himself, and he would sit and go through his best works with you when you struggled to fall asleep— he helped you see the world through the lens of an artist, and you never looked back.

You’re elated as you run your hands over the pages, imagining what the phone call between Eddie and your grandfather was like. You wish you could’ve been there to hear it; you wish you could’ve brought Eddie to meet him in person because even though your grandfather acted tough and mighty, he had the softest heart you’ve ever known, and he would’ve adored Eddie.

You huff out a laugh, shaking your head as you put the journal on the coffee table. You huff, turning to clamber onto Eddie’s lap, glaring at him as your hands dig into his shoulders, “I hate you so much.”

Eddie grins at you, and you drop your head to his chest, snuggling further into him when he wraps his arms around you. You grumble against his chest, turning your head to speak, “You’re making it so hard.” You complain.

You feel the rumble of Eddie’s voice in his chest as he hums, “Hm?”

Eddie shifts beneath you, and you sigh, turning your head up to nuzzle against the base of his throat. Your teeth drag across his skin, red lines left in their wake before you let your tongue coast up his pulsing vein, mouth kissing and suckling at what you can reach— and Eddie whimpers.

“You know…It’s past midnight.”

“Fffuck–”

Eddie’s dead.

He’s gone. Six feet under. In the next life, body turned back to dust, never coming back, dead. This must be the seventh circle of heaven— is that a thing? Or is that only hell?

Either way, Eddie’s on an entirely different plane of heaven as you press your body against his, knees tightening around his waist as he pulls you close and smears his lips against yours. He can feel the heat of your core through his pants, and his hips have a mind of their own when they buck up into you.

Your fingers are blind and eager when they wriggle through the tight space between you and Eddie, but it sends shivers up Eddie’s spine when you drag your nails down the soft skin of his lower pelvis.

Eddie’s lips part against yours, and he’s licking into your mouth, tongue flicking at your top lip as you shakily moan. “What happened to no sex tonight?” He lowly teases. His hands sink beneath your shit, squeezing at your hips and guiding the roll of your hips.

“Shut up, Eddie.” You whine, fingertips digging into his shoulders when he rubs against your covered clit. Eddie smiles, watching as your face twists in pleasure, and his chest nearly bursts because you’re so fucking pretty.

“You want me?” He asks.

Your lips twitch into a smile, and your hands slide down his arms to rest over his wrists that flex as they work you back and forth over his crotch. “Yeah,” You breathe, tipping your head down to hover your lips over Eddie’s, “I do. I want you, Eddie.”

Eddie’s tongue runs over his lips, and he catches your bottom lip, and you lick out to catch his tongue before pressing your lips together. Eddie uses one hand to cup your face, “You’re not curious where my dick’s been while we were apart?” He teases.

And if you weren’t practically humping Eddie right now and thinking straight, you probably would’ve choked Eddie out or something— but you only mewl and grind down harder. “Not funny.”

Eddie hums, fingers dancing across the band of your panties before dipping past the barrier. He feels like a pirate who’s finally found the hidden treasure, eyes squeezing shut as he tries to ground himself because, Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking wet.

His cock feels strangled and achy in his jeans, and he imagines how good it’ll feel to sink his cock into you as he swirls a gentle finger around your entrance. “For the record,” He drawls, watching your lips part when he dips his finger into you, “It’s been nowhere. My dick, I mean.”

You breathlessly laugh, hips wriggling, your pussy eager for more. “Been beating it with my fist for the last six months, so. Just want you to know— it’s only you, baby.”

You mewl, leaning forward to press your forehead against Eddie’s as you grind against him, shivering when he finally sinks a finger into you, drawing out to circle your clit with sticky arousal before sinking back in with two fingers.

You’re sharing each breath, taking each other in and out; Eddie watches with low eyes as your face twists in pleasure.

“Take it off,” He grumbles, “Take your shirt off.”

You’re moving like it’s second nature. Shaky hands reaching down to loop around the loose shirt, dragging it up and over your body— and Eddie’s head tips back with a groan. “Jesus fuck,” He curses, one hand busy working you as the other reaches down to palm your breast, “When did you take your bra off, you fuckin’ minx?”

You whimper against Eddie’s lips when he kisses you, the force of his eagerness pushing you back. Eddie keeps pressing you back, shuffling and moving around so he can press you down onto your back and hover over you. “Wanna taste you. Let me taste you.” He begs.

You shake your head, lips messily smearing against his, “No. No, you said—” god, Eddie can’t stop fucking kissing you, “You said you’ll let me have you next time, Eds.” You whine.

Fuck, you’re so fucking cute. You’re a goddamn dream pouting up at Eddie, grinding against his fingers as he ticks them up against your walls. “Yeah? You want me?” Eddie breathlessly asks. Your lips are pouty and swollen as you nod, “Already told you I did.” You say.

It takes everything in Eddie to pull away from you, and he thinks he’s gonna marry you when you reach out for him. Thinks he wants to just whisk you away and live on the side of a secluded mountain or some shit. Thinks he wants you to be the mother of his kids when you smile up at him as he rises to his feet, gazing down at you over the apple of his cheeks as he removes his jeans. You’re so pretty, hair spread out beneath you, tits on full display, tummy fluttering with each drag and push of your breaths. You’re lightly dragging the tip of your finger down your stomach, a teasing glint in your eyes as Eddie throws his hair into the shittest bun known to man, and fuck, you’re dipping your hand between your thighs.

Yeah. This is heaven, and you’re god.

Eddie thinks he’ll spend the rest of his life on his knees worshipping you.

Eddie’s body is warm when he crawls back over you, his body now bare, save for the chains that dangle from his neck. One cross, one guitar pick, one pentagram. They’re cold when they drag up the valley of your chest, and your body perks up with chills.

You slink your arms around Eddie’s shoulders, titling your head up to kiss him as your fingers curl into his messily tied hair. “Give me what I want, Eds.” You softly say against his lips. “Fuck my mouth, please.”

Eddie curses, rutting his cock against the inside of your thigh, and he nods, “Yeah. Fuck. Okay, yeah. Just lay here and look pretty, baby.”

The lasting effects of the three blunts you’d shared with Eddie are swirling through your body, and you feel like you’re on cloud nine as Eddie straddles your hips. He’s the prettiest sight to ever reach your eyes, toned arms, and chest working in tandem as he reaches down to wrap a fist around his cock— and god; you forgot how pretty his cock was. The tip is ruddy and flushed, and your core twists when he angles himself up, and you see the piercing beneath his tip. You definitely hadn’t forgotten about that little detail these past months.

Eddie’s chest is rising and falling quickly and stray pieces of hair cling to his lips when he licks them. You watch with wide, eager eyes as Eddie strokes himself, ringed fingers running against the soft skin of his shaft, pretty hisses curling through his teeth when he thumbs the slit of his tip.

“Quit teasing,” You whine, squirming beneath him. Eddie grins, breathlessly panting as he looks at you, “So impatient.” He mumbles, shifting further up your body until the inside of his thighs press against the side of your tits. You can feel the cool drag of his rings against your sternum, and it sends licks of fire through your core. “My baby’s so impatient, hm?” He taps his cock against your chest, and your frown, fingers digging into his thighs.

“Lucky you’re cute.”

Eddie’s then shuffling and moving around so you’re both comfortably positioned as he kneels over your face, pretty cock glistening above your lips. You open your mouth and let your tongue hang out, ready for Eddie to feed his cock to you, and he chuckles, tapping his swollen tip against your tongue before dragging it to tease you.

It’s good. It’s so good. The taste of him, the feel of him, the pretty noises he makes. You can feel the cold barbell dragging across your tongue with each slow thrust he gives you, and you can’t wait to feel it inside you again. You’ve been dreaming about it for weeks on end now.

He pulls out with a slick pop, tapping his tip against your lips as he hums, “Ready? Gonna give you what you want now.”

You’ve never nodded so fast in your life.

He’s thrusting in and out of your mouth at a mind-numbing and thigh-clenching rate for just under five minutes before he starts to break. You can feel it in the stutter of his hips, the twitch of his cock on your tongue, the shuddered moans and grunts. You reach up to drag your nails down the soft skin of his stomach, and Eddie whimpers for the second time, and you think it might be your favorite sound— you want more.

He’s pulling out with a curse, squeezing at his tip, and you’re such a fucking tease; you lean forward to kitten lick at his aching tip and hum when he hisses. He shuffles back just enough to lean forward and press a messy kiss to your lips, humming at the taste of himself on your tongue.

“Fuck me, Eddie. Please. Want it so bad it hurts.”

“Jesus fuck— turn around.”

You’re shaking, and Eddie’s touch feels like fire as he helps you flip over to lean on all fours. His hands coast up your back and into your hair, and you push your body back into him, ass pressing against his wet cock as you moan when his fingers curl into your hair.

His other hand smooths over your ass, heavily slapping it once before gripping the warm skin as he speaks beside your ear, “Wanna fuck your ass one day, hm? Gonna let me? Say you’ll let me.” “Oh my god,” You roll your eyes with a smile, tipping your head to the side when Eddie kisses your neck before nipping at your ear. You can feel the curve of his smile against your skin, and it makes your chest flutter as he pulls you up to press your back against his chest.

He’s reaching down between you to grasp his cock and paint it against your wet cunt, and you lose your breath. “Come on. Say you’ll let me fuck your pretty ass.” He practically begs.

You moan when he slips his head in, teasing you with what he knows you want. Your head rolls back to rest against his shoulder, and he hums, slinking his other hand up to cup your throat as he continues teasing himself in and out of your pussy.

You smile, lazy and high and blissed out, “No.”

Eddie groans at that, fingers tightening around your throat as he sinks in deeper. “Not even a finger?”

You push your fingers through his hair, his curly strands nothing but a tangled mess within his hair tie. Your legs tremble as you wriggle back into him, but your voice is steady as you speak, “Fuck me first, and maybe I’ll think about it.”

Eddie takes that as a challenge, apparently, because next thing you know, he’s slamming into you and pressing in to the fucking hilt— all big and pierced and toe curling to the point where your moans turn flat, and all you can do is lace your fingers through his that rest on your hip and hold on for dear fucking life.

He’s pressing you face-first into the carpet, making sure your cheek rests against the couch pillow that had been thrown aside earlier. His fingers are clenched around yours, digging into your hip as you whine and moan into his floor, sobbing out his name with each groundbreaking thrust he gives you.

It’s all-consuming; the way Eddie’s fucking you, the filthy words slipping from his mouth, the lingering effects of weed— god, you feel like an exploding star.

Supernova shit or something like that.

Eddie’s cursing and spilling dirty words of encouragement when you come, leaning over to press his chest against your back and coo into your ear.

“Such a good girl for me.”

“Keep squeezing me like that, baby. You’re so good.”

“Y’sound so pretty when you’re coming on my cock.”

You’re breathless and quivering, and a pitiful whine slips from you when Eddie pulls out, but you can feel him as he wraps his hand around his cock and finishes off, pretty moans pressed into the skin on the back of your neck. The feeling of his sticky release dripping onto your ass makes you want to go at it again already.

He’s peppering kisses across your neck and shoulders, and your body slumps onto the ground in exhaustion, but you smile when he presses his lips to yours.

“So, was that good enough? Have I been granted access to the holy grail?”

You glare at Eddie from where his chin is hooked over your shoulder. He raises a suggestive eyebrow, and you huff. “I’ll tell you what,” You start, shifting and purposely rubbing your ass back against his sensitive cock, smiling when he hisses.

“Make up for the last six months first, and I might be able to cut you a deal.”

“Now you’re just stringing me along.”

You hum, “Oh, like you did with me some months ago?”

Eddie pauses at that, eyes narrowing at you, and you think— fuck, maybe that was too soon. But then a smile cracks across his face, “Touché.”

He sighs and sits up, peeling himself from your sticky skin before gently patting your hip. “Ass up, baby. Got a lot of making up to do, and we’re on a tight schedule.”

And you think to yourself, with the scent of Eddie whirling around you and his touch all over you and his pretty voice in your ear, that yeah, you can work through this together. Even if the process will tear you to shreds all over again.

After all, that’s the price of falling for a rockstar, isn’t it?

————

the end.

————

a/n: HOLY SHIT GUYS

if you've made it to the end of this long-winded (and incredibly late, I'm so sorry) ending to this story i can not thank you enough. these two have been so fun to write and i don't plan to leave them completely in the dust so they're not gone forever, but thank you so much to everyone who read and shared and commented. this story has allowed me to meet the most beautiful, kind, funny, and loving people I've ever had the pleasure of talking to and that will be my biggest takeaway from this journey🥹

the biggest thank yous to my pretty mutuals who have been here the whole way, ilysm and want to shrink you guys and put you in my pocket <3

anyway, i'll shut up now, i hope i was able to do these two justice with their ending!! i love and appreciate all kinds of feedback, and as always, thank you for reading, ily <3

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cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @ye0nvibezzn @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2

@daddyhetfield @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly @nabiiturner @catherinnn

@mossiswriting @kellsck @joannamuns9n @siriuslysmoking @mysteris-things @amazingori @honey-eyed-munson @saintlike78 @eddieslooneymoonie @alexa4040 @yujyujj

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barghest-land · 8 months ago

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someone asked me not a long time ago, why i get upset if anyone kills a spider in my presence. here's my not very little answer. idk. thoughts,,

i like little things. tiny creatures that crawl around here and there. i think spiders are cute, and when i look at one, my brain goes to my childhood, where i was spending time watching cross orbweavers weave their webs every late evening. watching them do that was an escape for me. every summer i had a few spiders in our garden that i would name and check on them every night. what did they caught? did they eat? how is their web? did they molt? how are they doing? lifting rocks was always about finding something under them. going outside in the night with a flashlight was a whole adventure of "who will i see today in the grass" and realizing that after the sunset life is completely different. i was always afraid of the dark, and big pitch black sky with the stars kinda scared me as a child. so when i was overwhelmed by the space and the feeling of how small and meaningless and lost on a rock in an endless cosmos i am, i was looking under my feet with a flashlight to find something even smaller, closer, familiar and calming. seing tiny creatures was always about learning to understand, to be curious, and to be gentle. to understand that even if you don't mean to, you can hurt someone by accident, and they can get scared and bite back, so better be gentle to begin with. it was about learning to be kind. it was also learning about life and death since they live much shorter life. to appreciate a moment that can't last forever. seeing people around them was sometimes a lesson about hate, that was quite confusing to me. i didn't understand why would people just go to something small and smash it. later on in life, when i was bullied in school i didn't try to see a reason. lesson learned, i thought. people tend to hate when you somehow, in their mind, don't belong somewhere. but growing up loving small things was such a nice experience. i've seen a lot. i've learned a lot. i've held so many beautiful creatures in my hands. so yes, i get upset if people kill spiders, insects, crustaceans, worms etc when i'm around. i don't see it being necessary. and yes, there aren't many very poisonous things where i live. still, anywhere you are there are a few options if there's a spider on a wall. so yes, again, i love little things crawling around. during winter, with no little crawlies outside, the world is awfully dead and quiet to me. all little random house spiders are welcome to make their web somewhere in the corner of my room. if a spider is reading this - you are always welcome, i love u

#love letter to spiders and other crawlies around #barghest barks #there are so many thoughts but my brain is suddenly empy. apologies #also might be typos #i didn't read it after typing #yeaghh

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quill-firefly · 6 months ago

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You know, it drives me crazy to know that technically there’s two (at least in terms of prominence cause I think there’s also a TFA one though it doesn’t seem as talked about) canonical Shattered Glass continuities: the one made by FunPub and the IDW reboot.

Cause the thing is, those two comics have vastly different Megatrons and Optimus Primes.

Like we have FunPub Megatron who is a mathematician and Optronix who was a librarian that backstabbed his way to the top.

Then we have the IDW versions where Megatron is a miner/civil activist who keeps getting tossed into jail and Orion Pax who is a senator in this version.

And what fascinates me is that in the FunPub version, Optimus actually lives (though he becomes Nova Prime). Meanwhile, in the IDW version, I think he dies (?) or well his fate is much worse in comparison to FunPub!OP.

Also what’s up with both Megatrons having a fakeout death? FunPub!Megatron does get killed by Cyclonus but he comes back as Galvatron. Meanwhile IDW!Megatron gets defeated by OP and is momentarily thought to be dead (he just went into self-exile).

There’s not actually a lot of difference between the two OPs (cause honestly they both seem insane), though I guess one could interpret FunPub!OP as much more depressing cause the only reason he’s evil is cause he saw life as meaningless unless history remembers you and when he becomes Nova Prime, he’s still a little jerk but he’s tamer so I assume that was his original personality. IDW!OP just wants total power and only initially hides behind a nice facade.

The two Megatrons are vastly different though in my opinion. Cause FunPub!Megatron really was just some guy who predicted civil war and was good enough to want to stop it (this Megatron wasn’t affected by the caste system, he just genuinely saw something wrong was happening and chose to do something about it). IDW!Megatron was someone who was affected by the caste system and was trying his best to bring attention to it. FunPub!Megatron is also very nice (like not overly nice but he’s genuinely such a nice guy and this is why he’s my favorite aside from him being a nerd lmao). IDW!Megatron is a bit more jaded (which is fair cause the caste system is horrible and his “friend” is an asshole).

Even the relationship between OP and Megatron are different in both continuities. I’m pretty sure in FunPub these two never interacted before the war, where OP gets pissed that this random mathematician is opposing him. In IDW, OP and Megatron were “friends” with OP even bailing Megatron out of jail, though their “friendship” was already toxic even before the war cause Megatron seemed to really see through OP’s BS.

All this to say, there should really be a crossover between both continuities.

SGFunPub!Megs and SGIDW!OP meeting would be kinda fun and dangerous, especially if they meet each other before the civil war broke out. Megatron wouldn’t know who OP is while OP would see another version of his Megatron who he could possibly trick. Also this has the added bonus of a hilarious scenario where Megatron predicts OP is the cause of the civil war through math and that pisses off OP cause genuinely tf you mean you computed that through math. This one is more dangerous though as OP genuinely wants power and will not be swayed by whatever Megatron says.

SGIDW!Megs and SGFunPub!OP might honestly end up the happier version ngl. Cause OP clearly has an existential crisis that Megatron can probably fix by convincing him that OP can still be remembered in history by doing the right thing… such as being a civil rights activist. Like… I’m just saying maybe FunPub!OP needs therapy (and unlike IDW!OP, he actually gets a canonical redemption arc so he’s not completely lost).

Anyway, will I write this? Maybe (I really shouldn’t though cause I have a series and two writing requests to finish lmao). Because I am officially employed now and thus have a fixed schedule unlike the previous weeks where my schedule was erratic (which is not good for my OCD as I need a fixed schedule or I will be very upset sksksksk) as I had nothing to do but read, play video games, and exist lmao

#transformers shattered glass #shattered glass #sg idw #sg funpub #sg megop #sg megatron #sg optimus prime #optronix #megop #opmeg

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xenotenseikiseki · 1 month ago

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Life is precious

In life you will have many times where you feel misery, deep sadness and pain. It’s okay to have those feelings and it’s okay to hold onto hope even if having hope brings more pain

In the short life of a human you will do many meaningless task but as long as those meaningless moments create fun happy memories to look back on they still hold value. Don’t worry about the fact that they are “meaningless” and just enjoy those moments; because they bring joy that is enough.

You are enough, even if you feel useless don’t let the dark thoughts win.

All humans are racing towards death so try not to worry about “am I doing enough” “am I living the right way” and don’t focus so much on the future that you forget to live right now

Just live your life. Be yourself, it’s okay.

Live, because life is precious.

I have officially finished the original Tsukihime. I have a lot of thoughts on it and I don’t want to give a full review with all my thoughts because of spoilers if anyone seeing this ever reads it. There are lots of flaws with the story for sure it is definitely not perfect… but that doesn’t matter. Emotionally the story really spoke to me. From a more pessimistic critical view point I’d say it would be crazy to review it with anything more than a 7/10… but that is not my real opinion. Emotionally it is a 10/10 despite its flaws the story means something to me.

I could go deep into the details of the story and more into how I feel about it but like I said I won’t do that. It’s not a story I can easily recommend, not everyone will enjoy it. If you think the story might be something you could enjoy then absolutely give it a read but it’s definitely not something that everyone would like. I think that stories made for everyone to like will never reach the same peaks of deeply impacting someone emotionally. I think for some people to love a story it means some people will inevitably hate it. So I don’t recommend the story to everyone because it’s not designed with everyone in mind, but it will connect with some people so if you don’t mind dark themes absolutely give it a chance.

I can say that I loved reading the original Tsukihime and I love the story it told. Its themes were very meaningful to me. 10/10 not because it’s perfect but because it touched my soul in spite of its flaws.

#tsukihime #type moon #just gathering my thoughts on one of the major themes and kind of expressing my feeling tword the story #not really a review

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hannie-dul-set · 1 year ago

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STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE [3].

SYNOPSIS. the saying “never meet your idols” exists for a reason. you just didn’t expect the reason to be because said idols would end up declaring that you’re their alleged lover from a past life (past lives, rather). now you have three big celebrities vying for your attention, and it’s not as dreamlike as you imagined it to be.

PAIRINGS. choi yeonjun, choi soobin, choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRES. reincarnation! au, celebrity! au (soloist! yeonjun, actor! soobin, rock band member! beomgyu), slight college! au, slight historical! au, rom-com, angst, reverse harem woohoo. WARNINGS. swearing, talks about stalking, talks about death, data privacy violations, so much emotional whiplash yummy, a very long conversation, google dependent historical information. WORD COUNT. 6.3k.

NOTE. this chapter finally made its way out hell 😭😭😭 per usual, please let me know your thoughts on the chapter! a single comment on ao3 inspired me to finish this, so ur feedback really means a lot! enjoy<3

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 3 — can we go back to being parasocial?

IF SOMEONE HEARS YOUR SUMMARY OF THE EVENTS THAT UNFOLDED WITHIN THE PAST FEW DAYS, they may accuse you of lying. Delusional, even. You’d think the same had you not been the center of it all— yet the proof is in your pockets. Your phone. In the album Choi Yeonjun failed to sign, stuffed inside your bag at the last minute before you left your apartment earlier.

The summary. Right. Yes.

“Can they stop sharing that video of Yeonjun excessively flirting with a fan?! I’m going to kill myself if I see it one more time.”

You were lucky enough to nab a fansign slot. But instead of getting Choi Yeonjun’s signature, you ended up getting a kiss of a hand instead, along with a scrawl of numbers on your album that you’re far too terrified to try to dial.

“Hey, send me our photo with Soobin the other day,” nudges Huening from beside you. “I’m gonna print it out and put it in a locket and use it as a family heirloom.”

You bumped into one of your favorite actors, Choi Soobin, in the middle of a late night convenience store run with your friends to fuel your group all nighter, stained his shirt with your ice cream, and got a photo with him in the process.

“By the way, have you called the business card yet? What are you gonna do with your broken phone screen?”

And Choi Beomgyu may or may not have professed his undying love for you, asked for your hand in marriage, and started crying in front of you in less than ten fucking minutes.

“She’s zoned out.”

The problem is, you can’t even bask in the delightful absurdity of it all because one common thread from all those three separate instances has been keeping you up for nights. It’s clawing at your brain, lingering in the back of your mind like an incessant stalker— which, mind you, is not a pleasant feeling when the very causes of such disturbance were once the bringers of joy and all things good in your otherwise meaningless life as a cog in the capitalist machinery that is society.

“Hello? Are you awake?”

Said problem being the fact that you’re pretty sure they all called you by your name at one point.

How the fuck do they know your name?

“I deleted Twitter. I Airdropped it to you. No, I have not called it yet. Now please let me think in peace.”

Crazy. This is all too crazy. In the first place, what are the odds that you bump into three celebrities within one week’s time? Is this some sort of prank, or something? Are those three filming a hidden camera show together? No, no. That couldn’t be because there’s no fucking way a company is sane enough to stage a risky hidden camera prank during a fansign knowing full well how obsessive and insane fans can get. You’re lucky your face wasn’t caught in any of the videos circulating online— video of you and Choi Yeonjun, mostly him, acting out a fucking sageuk. You’re lucky you haven’t been doxxed yet.

“Finish your sandwich,” Taehyun clicks his tongue, nudging your food closer to you, and you sigh heavily. Maybe you’re just wrong, you think, taking a bite from the bread. Maybe this is just a misunderstanding. Maybe you’re just overthinking.

You eat your lunch and steal some wet wipes from Gaeul in between. Right. It’s not like you’re ever gonna bump into them again. You live in, as cliche as it sounds, two different worlds after all. You’re just gonna watch their dramas, listen to their music, enjoy their performances, and that’s it that’s it that’s it.

“Prof Jang sent a message. Class is canceled.”

But still—

“Woohoo! Let’s go to the new dessert shop that opened downtown.”

Choi Beomgyu’s voice saying I love you, Choi Soobin’s cologne wafting in the air you were breathing in, and Choi Yeonjun’s lips pressed against your skin.

How can a sane person just forget about all of that?!

“Why do you look like you’re fantasizing about perverted shit?” Woohyun slaps you in the face with a reality check. This is fucking stupid.

“I’m not fantasizing,” you grunt, because they were events that actually fucking happened— they weren’t birthed from your brain’s insanity. “Anyway, dessert? Where is it?” You ignore your burning face, hoping that your friends decide to ignore it too, but Gaeul has her eyes narrowed at you. Crap. She didn’t recognize that it’s you in the videos right? Holy fucking hell, you’d rather die.

“Aren’t you gonna answer that?”

Oh. Well. That’s— that’s something. A good something because she hasn’t suspected you yet, moitioning instead to your cracked phone that has been buzzing under your notice because you’ve been thinking way too fucking much.

You check the caller ID, but it’s an unknown number, and it doesn’t match the business card you got from your run in with the alleged Choi Beomgyu. “Hello?” you answer, and a voice you don’t recognize says your name and asks if it’s you. “Yes, this is her. Who’s this?”

Another item added to the weird as fuck things that happened to your this week. You excuse yourself from your friends, and with knitted brows, you listen to the stranger at the other end of the line. “You met Choi Soobin the other day at a 7-Eleven in Gangnam, right?” The fuck? Did someone see you that day? Is this a stalker? “This is his manager. Lee Byeongho. I would like to speak with you regarding a certain matter.”

Now, hold the fucking phone.

“Is everything alright?”

You respond to Huening’s concern with a stiff smile before turning away from them. “Did I do something wrong?” you fuss into the call. “I didn’t post any of the photos from that day. I never talked about it online either, and I’m pretty sure my friends haven’t either. Wait. Wait a minute. How did you get my number?”

“Yes, it was difficult to obtain knowing only your first name and university.” That doesn’t answer your question. That just gave you more questions. “But, no. You aren’t in trouble. Actually...I called because you’re the only one who can help us— help Soobin— get out of trouble.”

Your face scrunches up.

“I’m at your campus right now. Parking lot. Do you mind meeting me for a moment?”

Just what did you get yourself into?

“You haven’t finished your food. Where are you going?”

“Somewhere,” you reply, quickly snatching your half-eaten sandwich from the table as your friends follow your swift movements with matching looks of confusion. “I’ll be right back. It’s nothing, don’t worry.” However, you are quite worried. You’re pretty sure Lee Manager, or whatever, is committing some data privacy crimes against you, but the one thing you want at the moment is answers. Your brain is about to explode from all the fucking questions and confusion. There’s a sliver of hope that meeting up with this sketchy guy can answer a few of them. You’d take that chance to air out your head.

There’s a black van in the parking lot. It’s the first thing you noticed because one of its doors are open, and there’s a familiar looking guy waiting just in front of the exposed seats.

He notices you approaching. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” he says. What’s with men you’re meeting for the first time treating you with familiarity? You’re going to rip your hair out and throw yourself into moving traffic.

“Sure, but can you get to the point?” you stiffly say. “I’m a little busy. I still have classes in a bit.”

“Of course, I’m sorry. This whole situation must’ve come off as a shock to you.” Great, now you’re feeling bad. Soobin’s manager (allegedly) looks like he’s been through a whole lot as well. “Anyway. You are a fan of Choi Soobin, correct?”

“Well,” you blink. “Yes.”

“How about the dramas Kang Jaehee has written and directed?” he follows up. “Are you a fan of those as well?”

Your brows furrow. “I guess?” Peach Tree. That Summer. Mogi. Those are the titles that come right at the top of your head. “What does that have to do anything with me?” Manager Lee spares you a look of pity. You feel like this meet-up is just set out to making you even more fucking confused.

“I sincerely apologize. I didn’t want to drag you into this either, but I’m afraid you’re the only option I have,” says Manager Lee despondently. “Since...since you are a fan of Soobin, and I assume that means you also care about his career, so—”

He pauses. Like he’s practicing the next set of words he’s about to say inside his head.

“—do you mind meeting up with him to convince him to take the lead role for Kang Jaehee’s upcoming drama?”

But nothing could’ve prepared you for that.

What.

What the fuck?

“Mr Manager. Sir,” you start, appalled beyond comprehension. “I’d appreciate it if you start making a bit more sense.”

“Trust me, I can’t believe I’m doing this either.”

You’re speechless. Your mouth is hanging open with no words coming out because, again, what the fuck? Manager Lee looks just as defeated as you, as if he weren’t the one who had just presented that ridiculous proposal. You are, quite frankly, at a discernible loss.

Manager Lee lets out a sigh and digs a hand into his pocket. “I’m afraid this is all the time I have today. But please contact me once you’ve made a decision.” Another business card acquired. This is just dandy. “I am really hoping for your cooperation, miss. I’m sure you’re aware of Soobin’s inactivity lately, and my intention of approaching you today is simply in order to help my star’s career. Please consider the favor positively, and we will compensate you as much as my authority can allow.”

With that, you’re left with another laminated piece of paper in your hands. Gosh. This is a headache. When you get back to your friends, they notice the distress you’re in, further justifying a visit to the new dessert store, and seeing how your soul has completely left your body, you’re dragged along with them with ease.

“Hey, pick one. My treat,” says Woohyun. You let out a grunt and point at a random pastry on display. Next thing you know, you’re seated in between Huening and Gaeul at the store you don’t even know the name of.

Huening is force feeding you an eclair. “Eat.” Your scowl disappears when you allow the eclair entry into your mouth. “Seriously, what’s going on with you? Who did you meet earlier?”

Seeing as you show absolutely no intentions of telling them, they refuse to question you about it further. Good on them, because there’s no way in hell you’re spilling your predicament. Not until you find out exactly what kind of situation you’re in, at the very least. The two business cards feel like they’re weighing your pockets down, a constant reminder of their existence along with the scrawl Yeonjun left behind.

“I know exactly how to make you feel better.”

The declaration comes from Gaeul, who slides her phone over to you, and when you look down to see what exactly her miracle medicine is to make you feel less manic, you hack out a cough upon seeing Choi Yeonjun’s face on her phone screen. “The hell is wrong with you?” asks Taehyun from across, giving you some water to push down the eclair lodged in your throat. “I know you like him, but even that is an overreaction.”

Jesus, you’re close to losing it. When you’ve avoided choking to death, Gaeul puts an airpod into your ear, and you hear Yeonjun reading out some comments. “Choi Yeonjun, you look really happy lately, did something good happen? someone asked,” he says while having snacks of his own. “First of all, why are you calling me Choi Yeonjun? It’s like you’re putting a wall between us. I don’t like it.”

Gaeul makes a noise of some sort and had you not been subjected to this week’s insanities, you might have reacted the same way too. Instead, you simply listen to his live in caution, feigning disinterest as you watch him nibble on some pretzels and churros through the screen, continuing to answer the slew of questions in the comments.

“Anyway, you’re right! Something good did happen.” Yeonjun hums while picking out a pretzel from the paper bag, rustling noise and a lively tune filling the audio for a moment— a short moment, right before he continues speaking. “That’s because I finally met the love of my life.”

Taehyun has to give you his water again.

“Oh? Oho, what’s with the exclamation points?” he laughs. “Did I meet them the other day? Hmm...that’s a secret. You’re curious? You think it might be you? Well, let’s see. Should I describe her?”

“God, he’s so fucking messy,” says Gaeul from beside you. “This is why I like him. How many calls is he getting for his manager and company this time?”

“What’s going on? Why is she so startled?”

“Yeonjun’s talking about his apparent soulmate, I don’t know. Wanna listen?”

“Didn’t he get in trouble for doing the same thing last time too?”

Now, you’re not one to give a shit about his love life, and you like to stay out of that side of celebrity gossip as much as you can, but Choi Yeonjun himself is droning on about the love of his life right now. You can’t not hear about it even if you want to. However, as much as you want to let things come into one ear and out through the other, you can’t. Because— wait. Wait. His description is eerily familiar. His description is making you double take and second guess what you’re fucking hearing.

“Sounds a lot like you,” Taehyun remarks without much thought, right after Choi Yeonjun says that the girl he likes has a bit of an attitude, but he likes that about her.

Huening lets out a snort. “Yeah, that’s definitely you. Why don’t you go in a wedding dress the next time you attend a fansign? Who knows, you might have a shot.”

You snap them a dirty look. Fuck. This is making your head spin. For the second time, Choi Yeonjun’s tendency of putting himself into headlines and the trending searches for doing something insane is giving you nothing but stress.

“I did give her my number, but she hasn’t messaged me yet, so I’m quite hurt.”

Number. Hold on a fucking second.

“The comments are going crazy.”

You grab your bag from underneath you, dropping it down to your lap.

“Hey, if you’re watching this, pl—eeeeease contact me. Kim Noona thinks I have a phone addiction now because I’ve been dying waiting for your call.”

You quickly get up from your seat.

“Yo, where are you going this time?”

“I need a minute,” you announce, eyes scanning the store for a quiet place alone while hugging your bag to your chest. There’s nowhere. Looks like you have to get out.

“Damn, we were just joking. As if you have a chance with a celebrity like him.”

Huening’s joke is ignored and you quickly leave outside the doors, making a sharp turn around the corner, slipping through the passersby downtown until you find an empty alley. Your heart is racing. Your heart is racing like crazy and you may be reaching right now. You may be acting crazy, but what Choi Beomgyu said during the interview with Yeong-Il the other day is echoing in your mind, and— in conjunction with everything else that had happened— you’re starting to think that maybe he wasn’t joking.

Your cracked phone screen greets you when you take it out of your pocket. On your other hand is the first business card you got this week.

“Who’s this?”

“Hello. Good day.” You tell them your name, the events that led up to you receiving this number, with the hope that maybe you’re finally on to something. “I’d like to talk about the compensation for my broken phone.”

Whatever that something is, you’re gonna get to the bottom of it.

It’s already beyond closing time at Kwiyeomdongmoim Cafe (a mouthful, you know), yet your pink apron is still neatly tied around your waist as you pace back and forth, to and fro, in circles inside the breakroom. The time is half-past nine in the evening. You should’ve clocked out thirty minutes ago, but you’re still waiting.

The knock on the door signified the end of your wait. You turn to see your boss’s head popping in through the half-open crack.

“Three guys are waiting for you,” informs Seokmin. “They all seem handsome. Are they your suitors?”

When you ditched your friends at the still unnamed dessert store the other day, you did it to make a few calls. Three, to be exact. Today is the culmination of those calls, which is why you’ve been erratically nervous the entire freaking day. Choi Soobin, Choi Beomyu, and Choi Yeonjun’s managers all answered respectively when you called all the sketchy numbers you got and made some negotiations (apparently, the mess on your album is Yeonjun’s number, but he got his phone confiscated after that livestream).

“As if,” you say, walking up to the door leading back into the cafe. Suitors, more like stalkers. Fans stalking their idols is common, but the other way around is a pretty fresh idea. “Anyway, thanks, Kyeom. Thank you for letting me use the store for a while.” Because this is the only private place you can think of outside of your own home— and there’s no way in hell you’re letting them in there when you don’t even know how they managed to get hold of your personal information.

“We’re closed anyway.” Seokmin smiles and makes way for you to pass by. “Go ahead and do your thing. Do you want me to stay inside or keep watch?”

“You can stay inside, it’s alright.”

He nods. “Call me when you’re done. Scream if you need backup. I can handle all of them.”

You laugh and thank him once more, a pat on his arm before you decide to peek out the door first as a precautionary measure. From your spot, you can see three thoroughly covered men in windbreakers, caps, and masks sitting on three separate tables in the store. The blinds have already been rolled down, so you can’t see anything outside, but there doesn’t appear to be any cameras around, so you take it as a safe sign to finally leave your hiding spot.

The moment you do, the break room door creaks, and all three pairs of eyes immediately fall on you.

They stand up. They call out your name in unison.

Holy shit.

And when they do, they all look at each other with a sudden flash of hostility in the air.

Um. Well. How are you supposed to do this? “H—hello,” you manage to squeak out, prompting their attention once more. Soobin takes off his cap and removes his mask, the other two following suit, and oh my god. Oh my god. You suck in a deep breath. Today, you are not a fan. You are an interrogator. This is not a fansign. This is an interrogation.

“I— uh, I asked your managers if I can meet you all to—today for a specific reason.” Wow. Good job. Your hands are shaking and you can’t look up from the floor or else you’d start losing your mind. “But—but, before that— would...would you like some drinks…?”

Interrogation paused. You need to get your shit together first.

“Please enjoy.”

With the help of your boss (because your hands wouldn’t stop shaking and you dropped the first one you made), you managed to whip up four iced teas and settle all three of them into one table at the very back of the store. You send a stiff smile at Seokmin after he placed all the drinks on the table.

God, you owe him so much— especially when he’s being unreasonably glared at by the three men sitting with you right now. Choi Beomgyu to your left, Choi Soobin to your right, Choi Yeonjun directly across from you and holy fuck, you have yet to look at them properly yet for your own safety. They haven’t been talking to each other either, simply sitting and waiting for you to speak. You’re pretty sure they know each other though, at least by name, being in the same industry and all.

To say that the tension in the air is suffocation would be an understatement. How...how do you start this? The fuck should you say first?

“You know, I was really happy when Kim Noona told me you called.”

Apparently you don’t have to start it. Choi Yeonjun does it for you.

“But why are these two crashing our date?”

And that’s when things also start to get messy.

“Date?” Choi Soobin interjects. He sounds offended. Why does he sound offended. “What are you talking about?”

Choi Yeonjun doesn’t get a chance to make his case. Because Choi Beomgyu from your left suddenly snatches one of your hands from the table, prompting you to look at one of them for the first time tonight, and your eyes fly wide open. “I’d...like to apologize for the other day. I was just overtaken by my emotions. I hope you weren’t too freaked out.”

You are quite freaked out because holy shit, this is too much maybe. Not maybe. Yes. This is too much. Too. Much.“Hey, why are you holding her hand?!” you hear Choi Soobin exclaim from your other side. Choi Beomgyu’s soft expression suddenly disappears into a glare and a sneer the moment he shifts his gaze.

“You’re holding her hand too!”

“Why can’t I?!”

“Hey, this isn’t fair! One of you switch with me—”

Dizzy. You’re feeling dizzy. Your head is spinning and you’re suffocating from the heat emanating from your very face. Whatever they’re arguing about isn’t even reaching your ears anymore. You’re getting lightheaded and your sweaty hands start slipping out from the two’s weirdly tender hold on your hands because your body is physically breaking down.

“Shut up! Oh my god, my head—”

Your vision actually starts spinning for a second so you quickly bring the bottom of your palms to your temples, elbows on the table to balance yourself, only to be wobbled and shaken because the three suddenly jolted off their seats in panic.

“Are you okay?!”

“I’m fine, just please—for the love of god— sit down and shut up.”

They sit down and shut up. You massage your temples in silence. You remove your hands from your face and, after sucking in a deep breath and releasing it thereafter, feel your heartbeat settling into a normal rate. As normal as it can get in this situation.

“Whew. Okay. I think I’m ready. Let’s get down to business.” Finally, you’re the one steering the conversation. You give each of them a once over as quickly as possible because now you know that prolonged eye contact will only hurt you. You settle with looking at the gaps between each of them. That’s fine. You’re fine. “Choi Soobin, Choi Yeonjun, Choi Beomgyu.”

It’s like three bulbs just lit up in succession. Your brain is starting to hurt.

“A—as I was saying, you three are some of South Korea’s biggest celebrities and although I am, in fact, a big fan of all three of you—” Why is Choi Soobin growing pink. Why the fuck is he blushing. ��—that— that does not make me fail to recognize the amount of weird shit that’s been happening lately, and I think I need answers.”

They are still sitting down and shutting up. They listen to instructions well, at the very least.

“First, how the fuck did all three of you know my name without any prior introduction. Second—”

The words get clamped in your throat. It’s lodged in there very tightly because you make the mistake of looking one of them in the eye, only to notice that all three of them are looking at you with the same expression. An expression you can only describe as longing.

And your face starts burning.

“Se— second, why…why do you all keep looking at me like I’m an ex you want to get back together with…?”

Maybe you asked the wrong question.

Because for some reason they all look sad now. Really sad. Really fucking sad and it’s making your stomach clench and nerves all numb and funky because making three big celebrities all sad simultaneously is a bragging right at one end of the spectrum, and a national crime at the other.

It’s Choi Soobin who cracks the silence. “I…I had a feeling when I saw you again for the first time at the store.” Again? “Do you not remember me?”

Your face furrows. “No…? Did we ever meet before you became an actor?”

Hurt. The look of sadness has now spiraled into hurt and one might think you just stabbed and twisted a knife into his fucking gut. “How—how about me?” Your attention turns to Choi Yeonjun who isn’t looking any better. It’s like his entire world view was just proven to be wrong and why does it feel like you’re the one to blame.

What else can you do but shake your head in denial? Now he looks like he’d just been told he’s adopted!

“You’re…you’re joking,” he tries to laugh it off, but it only comes off as strained and shaky, then, in one fell swoop— desperate. “R—right…?”

“Great!”

Before you start feeling even shittier, Choi Beomgyu finally decides to join in.

“And here I thought her forgetting about me was the worst case scenario.” His tone is bitter. There’s a snap in his words. “I didn’t think there’d be other bastards in the same situation as me. God fucking damn it.”

There’s a moment of silence. You watch as realization hits the other while you’re still left in the dark. Choi Yeonjun juts his seat closer. Choi Soobin tries to reach a hesitant arm to your direction, but you’re tugged to the other side by Choi Beomgyu, who’s suddenly a little too, too close.

“Hey.”

Your hands are clamped together.

“I meant it when I said I love you. I do. I have loved you four hundred years ago and I still love you now, and if whatever god or deity decides to make you meet you for the third time, I’ll still love you then.”

Beomgyu’s holding both of them in between his in a firm grip.

“Second life is about you. Blue Spring is about you. You’re the person I’ve been waiting for from the beginning of this life until the last.”

Now, if this situation wasn’t crazy, your heart would be skipping a beat right now.

But it is crazy. This is fucking insane. And you look around to see that there’s a weird look of sympathy and understanding in the other Choi’s eyes, clearly not recognizing the visceral insanity of this situation, which fills you with a swallowing lump of existential dread. You pry your hands out of Beomgyu’s grasp (you swear you can hear glass breaking), and slowly turn to Choi Yeonjun and say, with a very hesitant, very cautious, “Y...you too…?”

The look on his face says it all. And then you swivel over to Choi Soobin.

“And you?”

“I’ve lo—”

“No!” you snap. “Don’t finish that sentence. Please. Oh my god.”

You see Seokmin popping his head out from the corner, mouthing an are you okay? and you shakily bring up a weak thumbs up. “Well, isn’t this interesting,” you hear Choi Yeonjun say, which feels like a slap in the face because what exactly is interesting about this. “Here I thought I was special.”

“Get off your high horse,” retorts Choi Soobin, a sneer in his voice. You double take. Choi Soobin is supposed to be sweet and gentle and kind. Who is this man? “Whatever kind of past you had with her doesn’t mean anything. I met her first. I met her at the end of King Danjong’s rule.”

“Ha!” Choi Yeonjun starts. “We got married under King Taejong. I’ve loved her before any of you did.”

Now, what the fuck?

Choi Soobin’s face pales and he chokes over his words. “M—married?”

There’s a smug grin on Choi Yeonjun’s face. He leans back against the chair with his arms crossed in victory. “You heard that correctly. Married. Pack up your bags. Unless you want me to tell you everything we did on our we—”

“Shut up, shut up, I don’t want to hear it!”

Marriage. King Danjong. King Taejong. Second life. The gears are churning inside your head. You don’t like the direction where the gears are pointing.

“What about you?”

Choi Yeonjun raises the question and the attention is now on Choi Beomgyu. He’s been quiet. The other two wait for him to say his piece— a feigned air of disdain and arrogance but there’s an unconcealable undertone of nervousness underneath it all. Your iced teas have been left untouched. Choi Beomgyu simply scoffs and presses his crossed arms against his chest.

“I have no reason to tell you any of that. This is between me and her.”

And at your mention, you receive the undivided attention of three pairs of eyes once more. Your heart rattles. God fucking damn it. Listen, you’re an avid consumer of the entertainment industry. You’ve watched a good amount of dramas and have read a good amount of manhwas to surmise a conclusion with the bits and pieces of stray information being tossed back and forth between the three. And it’s all ridiculous. But you have nothing else to work with unless they come spilling their guts themselves.

“So,” you clear your throat. “Are you three, like…a couple…hundred years old…?”

They all look offended.

“No!”

Well, maybe you’re wrong about that part. But after a very long, convoluted discussion, the “facts” (if you can even call it that), are finally laid down on your feet.

They say you’ve all met before. Separately, in three separate lifetimes, with this one allegedly being your fourth unless there were lives in between that they can’t remember. One thing for certain is that the three of them remember the life they had while loving you— and they loved you very much apparently because those feelings and memories got carried over even after they got reborn into the present day.

The problem is, you don’t have the same symptoms. You don’t remember anything about your past lives. Hell, you can’t even remember anything in this life before you hit two years old.

You slump in your seat. The table rattles. They get up from their chairs and come circling around you in concern.

“Are— are you okay, do you need to lie down? You could rest in my van for a while and—”

You swat Choi Yeonjun’s hand away before it could land on your shoulder. You’ve now got your hands on your face in stress, and peeking through you see Choi Soobin on your right, crouching down and looking up at you with furrowed brows and big, sad eyes. On your left is Choi Beomgyu, half-seated on the chair. You let out a very long, very anguished and muffled groan. This is too much. “If— if what you guys are saying is true,” you say. “What does it matter?”

There’s a tense pause in the air.

“What do you mean…?”

You spring up from your seat and turn around, Choi Yeonjun in front of you.

“I mean what does it all matter? King Sejeong, Joseon era, or whatever— I don’t care about all of that. We’re in the twenty-first century right now. I’m neither your lover nor your wife. I’m just a fan of your dramas and music and performances and that's it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. You don’t really want to see their faces right now. You let a huff of air slip past your lips, turning back around to collect the untouched glasses of drinks on the table.

“Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to meet me and explain. I hope it’s all settled. Thanks for clearing everything up today. You can now all leave.”

It’s Choi Yeonjun who races after you when you make your firm and quick strides to the counter. He cuts off your path. “I—I don’t understand,” he chokes out. You make the mistake of meeting his gaze and see the threat of tears glazing his eyes. “What—what do you mean?”

Admittedly, that hurled a giant pang against your ribcage, knocking the air out of your chest, but you move forward. You brush past him, setting the glasses back on the counter, and— after a moment’s pause— you turn around, a heavy weight on your shoulders. It’s like gravity is trying to suck you deep into the mantle. “What I’m trying to say is we should all just get over what happened all those hundreds of years ago and live our lives in the present. I mean, I don’t know any of you. Don’t you think it’s unhealthy to keep clinging onto the past, especially when you guys are nothing but strangers to me in this life?”

Dead silence. You don’t dare look at any of them in the face. You try and retreat to the break room as quickly as you can, hands fumbling to untie your apron along the way, but you stumble over your steps, screeching to a halt the moment you hear someone say—

“Do you think it’s that easy?”

You could hear your heart in your eardrums.

It takes all the strength in your body for you to look back, to see the pained expression on Choi Beomgyu’s face standing the farthest away from you out of the three. “Do you think I put my name out there so that it’d be easier for you to find me, wrote all those songs about you in the hopes that I could see you again if you’re someone I can just easily forget?”

Your throat tightens. It’s like you’re swallowing a boulder.

“If you wanted me to forget about you, you shouldn’t have died right in front of me then. You shouldn’t have told me you loved me right before you went cold in my arms if you wanted me to fucking forget.”

Oh.

Oh, god.

Choi Yeonjun and Choi Soobin don’t look any better. It hits you that you might have been more than a little bit unfair.

“I’m sorry.”

You don’t know your history. You don’t know what the fuck happened between you and them throughout those years that made them feel so strongly about you. But it must be harder for those who remember than for those who forgot.

It’s not like they chose to live in the present with half of their souls stuck in the past, either. You’ve been acting awfully unfair.

“I was being insensitive. I’m so sorry,” you exhale. Your knees feel like they’re about to buckle. Your head is spinning in circles. “But to be honest, this is all still very overwhelming, and I’m having a hard time comprehending and making sense of everything. It doesn’t feel real.” You try to take a step closer, but your legs give in. Choi Yeonjun quickly rushes to balance you back on your feet.

“Don’t push yourself,” he says, softly. You can’t look at him. God, these guys really know how to bring your guilt all the way home.

“Thanks, um, anyway—” You breathe in. Shit, you can’t believe you’re considering this. “Again, I really can’t and won’t be able to understand the magnitude of your— well, uh— feelings, since I really don’t remember anything. But how about…I spend some time with each of you individually, and maybe…maybe it can help in jogging back my memories?”

The atmosphere shifts. Ah. This feels like a fucking trap.

“You— you mean it?”

To be honest, you’d much rather just not deal with any of this, just stay at home and continue living your life with these three men as persons you only know behind the screen. But those looks in their eyes— hopeful and melancholic— make you feel your organs are being rearranged every five seconds, and you’d feel bad leaving them with the pain of this conversation especially after they poured out their hearts to you.

You can’t deny the joy and escape they’ve given you for the past couple of years you’ve spent as their fan. Maybe entertaining this unreality is the least you can do.

“I mean, well,” you start, clearing your throat. “Choi Beomgyu, you still need to pay for my phone. Choi Soobin, your manager wanted me to talk to you about something, and Choi Yeonjun—”

You look at the guy who still has one arm pressed against your back, two hands in a firm grip on your shoulders. He’s looking at you and batting his eyes expectantly. You let out a sigh and set yourself loose.

“I need to discuss something with you soon, too.” As in, please stop vaguely mentioning me in your live streams because I fear I might find an angry mob in front of my house. “I think I have all your contact information anyway.”

There aren’t any more reactions coming from them. This seems like the best possible solution for all of you. You sigh again. This has been an emotionally draining evening. You can’t wait to get some fucking rest.

“I’ll be in touch with you or your managers soon. For now, let’s call it a day.”

STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

#tomorrow x together x reader #txt x reader #choi yeonjun x reader #choi soobin x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #txt scenarios #tomorrow x together scenarios #txt x you #tomorror x together x you #soobin x reader #yeonjun x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt fanfic #choi soobin x you #choi beomgyu x you #choi yeonjun x you

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drenched-in-sunlight · 7 months ago

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Hey, so I remembered in one of your earlier post you said something along the lines of souls women only really falling into the helpless victim or serious sword lady trop. And how Ema was a great subversion of it, I was wondering if you had any thoughts on

I’m making a souls-like and trying to avoid the pitfalls where I can

Btw, I love your art so much I would love to support you but I am broke

sorry i let this reply marinate in the docs for months (along with a lot of other replies like im having a catalogue of Fromsoft replies that read like thesis at this point *crying* my job is not letting me sit down and edit them) but here it is.

firstly, thank you for your message, kind encouragement already means a lot to me, so don’t worry about not being able to support me or anything ! After all I’m not putting out any new books or fan merch haha.

Here is a whole rant about Ema but somehow my grievances with how they handle Malenia's story in comparison to Messmer also pops up.

Regarding your question about Ema, I love her because of how complete her story feels and how her personal motivation and personality are written as coherently as the male characters.

She’s a war orphan who did her best to survive, learned the sword from the best swordman but with the only purpose is to kill demons. Ema saw firsthand how violence and meaningless killing did to people, so her aim can be seen as trying to offer those lost souls a mercy death, so they don’t have to suffer as a mindless demon for eternity (as in shura ending).

Yet, she's actually more interested in being a doctor & saving life and it’s not something expected of her because she’s a woman or whatnot, she chose that.

(+ she's skilled enough with the blade that it shows in her mannerism to the point Wolf, who had never seen her hold a sword, knows that she's good with one).

she was ready to kill Scuptor - someone akin to a parental figure to her, should he succumb to grief and hatred. because she loved him. not to mention she saw Tomoe - someone in a way is also her mentor, tried to take her own life, while her childhood friend Gennichiro slowly went apeshit. like that girl witnessed so many insane stuffs & they spur her to be strong & steadfast in her ideal to protect her loved ones, even when it means to lay them to rest by her own hands.

her dialogue in Shura ending "maybe i should have killed you long ago" feels like being punched in the guts to me, because she knew Wolf turning out that way meant that somewhere along the way, all of them had failed him, had ignored the signs that all the killings he was tasked to carry out was taking a toll on him. And so she took upon herself the responsibility to offer him a mercy death, even as it broke her heart.

It’s the passionate drive and decisions made as her own person, not out of blind devotion to another character, and how much we know of that because the game let us find more about her, that makes her stands out from the epic sword lady category, while the violence and steely resolve she was capable of makes her stands out from the helpless maiden one.

-kinda lose the plot here with Elden Ring rant jumping out-

This is one of the main points I have about the difference between Messmer and Malenia, how even though their stories parallel each other, I think Messmer has the better writing and gets a more complete story. He’s super devote to Marika, but in his own way, not what Marika wants of him. Evidently with how he still fights the Tarnished because he deems us unworthy, despite knowing Marika sanctioned us for Lordship.

We see a lot of sides to him outside of just a filial son, his rage and sorrow and love and a moment of stubborn selfishness that results in him willingly become a curse that clings to Marika than to let go. We see his relationship with other characters and even though his love for Marika outweighs all else, it doesn’t negate completely others that exist outside of it.

And precisely because of that, it’s more heartbreaking to see despite all these connections he has with other people, he yearns to be reunited with his Mother above all else. That kind of devotion is more hard hitting to me than the writing for the Empyrean twins.

Like, Malenia…. outside of Finnlay (whose description says more about herself than shedding any new light on Malenia) and the mentor that we actually don’t even know much about yet, what are other personal connection she has outside of Miq? I could argue the Marika’s Soreseal in the Haligtree was meant for her and that she still loved her Mother in some kind of way all I want, but at the end of the day that’s a headcahon I have to theorize from item placement, and not many ppl will notice that. We don’t know for sure what Malenia thinks of anyone else but her twin and it drives me up the wall.

Another comparison I want to bring up is DS2 Lucatiel.

I fr think even Lucatiel gets a better story arc than Malenia, despite also largely being shaped by her relationship with her brother.

Loss frightens me no end. Loss of memory, loss of self. If I were told that by killing you, I would be freed of this curse… Then I would draw my sword without hesitation. I don't want to die, I want to exist. I would sacrifice anything, anything at all for this. It shames me, but it is the truth. Sometimes, I feel obsessed… with this insignificant thing called "self". But even so, I am compelled to preserve it. Am I wrong to feel so? Surely you'd do the same, in my shoes?

She is trying to find her brother, but at the same time wrestling with her own troubles and limitations. We get to know a lot of her own motivation and her fear. I mean one could argue that it's because she's an NPC while Malenia is a boss, but the same thing could also be said for Messmer like I explained above.

-back to Ema-

As the extra sauce, I love that Ema boss music has such layers to it. the theme of her - someone clinging to her humanity to the very end because she has ppl love & support her, also acts as an elegy for Wolf's lost of humanity, of him not being able to escape the abuse trauma he grew up in. its opening instrument also appears in Demon of Hatred's OST. Her presence and theme affects other characters’ life, and we get to see her marks on a personal level in the story’s overarching narrative.

Which is the same as how Marika’s presence is everywhere in the Elden Ring OST, that little soft piano. A little in Radagon’s theme, in Shaman’s Village, in the final DLC boss ost where the female vocals starts belting out “Hail, Marika the Eternal”, in a boss arena where she had walked through to scavenge the remains of her fallen family and ascended to an existence she knew would kill her all the same, but she would do it again every single time. Walking down that hell with her eyes wide open.

When a character that could get me to write paragraphs about like that… man you know how much the writing cooks.

#if they had let Miquella reacts at least a tiny bit in the boss fight if we go in wearing Malenia's armor i wouldnt be this sad tbh #they did that with Raime and Vestaldt so we know they could #im glad how well Messmer story turns out but it makes me upset at the writing for Malenia....#anw endless ranting about Sekiro and Elden Ring at end year we r so back #er brainrot #ask #anon #reply

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blackbullet99 · 8 months ago

Text

Debunking The Stupidest Pro-Zutara Claims.

Howdy y’all.

If you follow me, you know I’m a Kataang truther and a Zutara hater. I always thought Kataang was cute as a kid, but I honestly didn’t appreciate how mutual and well developed their relationship more until I was older. By contrast, I didn’t think much of Zutara initially, I knew it had a huge following and I kinda got why, they have a very interesting dynamic that drastically changes and them becoming friends is heartwarming, but I never got the hype. Then I saw this…

And I was utterly baffled at the mischaracterization, media-illiteracy, Zuko dickriding and Aang demonization on this post. Let’s have a look…

See what I mean about the Zuko dickriding and Aang demonizing. You compare one scene of Zuko making tea for everyone in Book 3, to Aang showing off in Book 1. Need I mention that Aang later apologized for getting big-headed by the end, and later episodes show that Aang (and the rest of the group) all work together. Right off the bat and we get this dumb Katara/Cinderella narrative.

Not another Dadko. Momtara I kind of get, but Zuko is not a father figure. Zuko himself is still young, still growing, still capable of being immature. The first moment isn’t even a parental thing, it’s more Zuko stopping Katara from confronting Aang because he somewhat understands Aang’s frustration of being unsure and conflicting about a huge decision, because he’s been there not long ago.

Comforting someone when they’re worried or grieving isn’t parental responsibility, that’s being empathetic and good friend. Katara comforts Zuko when he’s worried about comforting Iroh and these people lap that scene up.

“Aang acts like Katara’s son” is such a baseless argument. Ignoring the fact that Aang canonically has romantic feelings for Katara and vise-verse, the first moment was a one-off joke about Katara being motherly, the second was also a joke where Katara PRETENDS to be Aang’s mom and her brother’s husband, the last moment is Katara telling Toph how she TRAINS Aang because she’s his Sifu and so it Toph, does that mean Toph is also Aang’s mom?

Let’s go over this for the umpteenth time: Aang kissing Katara was wrong, it was bad, we should’ve seen him apologize, but he immediately regretted what he did, he knew he messed up, he’s not a sexual-assaulter, blah, blah blah. The problem with this is that these are both completely different situations and also Zuko had to be told to get off Katara, so not only is this point meaningless, but it doesn’t even support Zutara.

This has gotta be one of the dumbest arguments here, Aang has always seen Katara as an ally and dear friend first and foremost since day one. Admittedly Aang was somewhat possessive here, but him nodding mean he literally though Katara was his possession, more so him thinking Katara returned his feelings (which she did). But throughout the entirety of the show Aang sees Katara as not only an ally, but a friend, a fellow waterbender, Zuko only saw her as a friend and ally near the very end of the show, before that he simply saw her as a peasant in the way of his goal.

Again, both of these are completely different contexts and both Aang and Zuko were pretty adamant about how Katara feels about them. Zuko frustratingly confronts Katara about why she’s mad it him, he wants to earn to trust and sleep deprives himself so he can resolve this as soon as she wakes up. Katara asks why Aang is so crestfallen, he explains part of the reason, Aang (while being somewhat pushy) wants to know how Katara feels before he confronts Ozai in life or death.

Both are different situations and really I wouldn’t say either is better than the other.

Okay, there’s a lot wrong with these points, lemme go over them as best as I can.

Aang has put his needs over Katara’s several times, just to name three: he gave himself so the Fire Nation would spare her home, was willing to forgo his own Waterbending because Pakku wouldn’t train her, willingly put aside mastering the Avatar State because SHE WAS IN DANGER!

Aang understands the importance of Katara’s family, he leaves so as to to come between Katara and her family when she threatens to leave, he brings back her necklace knowing how much it means to her.

In both of mentioned Aang instances, he realized he was wrong and he and Katara reconciled, the first instance was out of a misguided attempt to set things right after he was killed, and the former is something Aang would never do again, in a later episode he actively takes Sokka to his father and Aang is content for he and Katara to go their separate ways for a while. I find it utterly hypocritical to be a Zuko dickrider while bashing Aang for mistakes he regrets, apologizes for and learns from, you know who else does that?

Once again, THE CONTEXT! In the first scene Katara mentions her mother’s death in a more matter of fact way to explain to Aang that the Fire Nation have killed a lot of people including his own. Aang however in a state of denial dismissed the idea of his own people being killed. In the second scene Katara lashes out at Zuko for all the trouble he caused and Zuko after going through some development prior empathizes with her in a way to get Katara to understand he means no harm.

Aang also empathized with Katara’s loss. In this same episode, he himself says he knows what it’s like to feel the pain and rage Katara feels, specifically when he found out all his people were dead and encouraged Katara to confront the person who caused said pain.

I REALLY HATE making a Katara centric episode about shipping, I really do, many people say Zuko was right Aang was wrong, or Aang was right Zuko was wrong. Neither side was entirely right or entirely wrong.

Zuko was right to take Katara to confront Yon-Rha and this was when he truly began to understand what Katara had been through and see her as an individual, while Katara comes to see Zuko as a friend and forgive him, however he had no idea what Katara was going to do and didn’t think of toll this would take on Katara if she did end up choosing violence.

Meanwhile Aang not agreeing with Katara and confronting her isn’t a bad thing, he understands just what it’s like to lose someone close to you and to feel unbridled rage and hate, he’s been there, he also knows Katara isn’t cold-hearted and she could come to regret seeking violence. He actively encourages Katara to face Yon-Rha without killing him, which she does and as Zuko says he was right about what Katara needed. But as Katara points out she didn’t forgive Yon-Rha, forgiveness wasn’t the right choice, and you know what, this is something Aang accepts.

These points in particular really highlight the stupidity and hypocrisy of the OP. For one, as we can literally see Aang ignored his training specifically because Katara was in danger and he wanted to save her, this is no different from Zuko sacrificing himself to save Katara, in fact Aang has put his life on the line for Katara multiple times. Furthermore OP gets on Aang’s case for leaving Katara to fulfill his duties in the Book 3 premiere, but then praises Zuko for leaving Mai to fulfill his duties. They’re literally praising Zuko for doing the same stuff Aang’s doing and whining about Aang whether he chose to ignore his duties to be with Katara or if he leaves Katara to fulfill his duties, you can’t win!

Okay, screw this guy, this has nothing to do with the Zuko saving Katara, OP just wanted to bitch about Aang not wanting to kill Ozai as if this supposedly makes him selfish even though Aang is literally facing Ozai to save the world and is simply trying to find a peaceful solution, it’s like the theme of this show was lost on this dude.

This was the creep who made weird comments about Katara’s appearance wasn’t it.

I really don’t get what this final point is trying to prove. The first scene is Katara happy that Zuko is alive, the second is Katara happily gazing at Aang, who never at any point tried to change Katara, at all. Point me to one scene, one moment. If this is about how Katara looks, she doesn’t look that different, at the very least, her eyes are slightly bigger in the second pic because she close to someone she loves, but even then it’s a lot of whining from this guy about nothing.

Case in point, this is when I realized Anti-Kataang Zutara shippers have are media-illiterate morons with not a single good take, fake-fans who only care about mischaracterization for the sake of a mid middle-school ship.

Maybe I should make a counter post about what Katara gains from Kataang.

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marpiled · 1 month ago

Text

my spin on nat killing ben... except it's yuri. doomed yuri. lottienat doomed yuri.

part 2 is here!

full chapters published on ao3 here!

warnings: suicidal ideations, depression, begging for death, consensual murder?? heavy angst, fluff then ur gonna cry, they like eachother, lottie matthews needs a hug. when i refer to "it" i mean wilderness. everybody is happy except lottie and nat. beginner writing— i don't know what im doing

this was suppose to be much longer but 1. idk how to write and 2. i lost motivation

started on may 29 3.38 pm

finished on may 30 4.20 pm

chapters are very short & sweet. i'm a beginner writer, bare w me

chapter 1: fate is sealed

Summer had come around how christmas would've. Slow and steady, it took its time. Winter felt as if it was years to the girls. Now that it's summer, they lay around in barely any clothing. Drama had been stirring amongst them, Melissa liked Shauna, Mari and Shauna had secret-not-so-secret beef. Either way, one thing that hasn't changed since the beginning of summer, since winter, since the crash. That being— the emptiness in Charlottes heart.

It was no secret to anybody. Lottie tried staying quiet to make herself seem more content. But she'd never be content, she knew that deep down. It was all about convincing herself that she'll make it out. Not just out the wilderness, but out her head. Out this life, I must say. Her heart was burning, yearning for something. Her nails dug into her skin subconsciously as if they were searching for meaning within her deep, thin bones. She pondered everyday if something out here was going to give her depth within something like life, something so vague. It felt as if only lighting herself on fire would make her feel seen, or make her feel something. She belonged in the wilderness, her soul was devoted to the trees where it felt as if nature developed meaning throughout their thin branches. Lottie was always told that she was extremely aware of things, and she believed it. But right now, she wished life could be on pause. Maybe even wished for it to end. Was she meant to die in the crash?

Her patience was running thin, she was running thin. If something so meaningless was still going, why not make it rest? Was it life that was meaningless, or was it her life specifically that was making life seem as if it was pointless?

chapter 2: dry locks

All the girls have been itching for something to do, and daily tasks have been finished since forever ago. The annual tag game has come back just in time, alongside summer. They had to do something to keep their soccer skills up, right?

But as usual, Lottie didn't join. Wasn't really her thing, so she decided to stay with Nat in one of the huts.

Nat dug her shoes into the ground, wiping sweat off her forehead. Lottie came around the entrance, opening her mouth as if she was about to say something, hesitating before sitting next to her.

"Quite a chaotic day, huh?"

Natalie giggled, having a smirk cornered on her lip as she nodded. "Too much moving for a day this hot." She put her legs against her chest.

"Can I ask you something weird?" Lottie turns her head to Natalie, who quickly nods. "Yeah, of course." They make eye contact before Natalie looks at her shoes moving through the dirt.

"Do you ever.." Lottie takes a pause. The silence almost made Natalie die inside.

"Do you ever think about what would have happened if I.." She quickly corrects herself,

"Well, If you or me died in the crash. You know, instead of adapting to all this.. wilderness..?"

"Uhh. Depends. Do you?

Do you think about it, I mean." Nat questions, Lottie instantly sighs after.

"I mean, do we want to be alive? Think about it. Our home lives aren't any better than how we are doing here."

Natalie groans.

"I love you, you know that I love you Lot. But i'm not dealing with this bullshit right now."

She stands up abruptly, dusting off her knees before walking out.

Charlotte hummed, trying to silence the thoughts in her head. She lets out a faint whisper,

"Lottie, oh. That's not."

She sighs, her hands instantly fidgeting with her dull hair.

So much unspoken words, and she can't even blame it on time. The clock isn't even ticking, time is all we have. That is, if we are excluding lottie. She doesn't have much time.

chapter 3: echoing branches

Asking for things wasn't something very easy for Charlotte. She'd always find a way to get what'd she want, even if it meant not saying a single word. But ever since they got into the wilderness, it has taken a lot of communication. Communication, something that always seemed so natural to everybody but so forced when it came to Lottie.

Mari was missing ever since the fight with her and Shauna last night. Maybe it was a technique of some sort? Who knows. Natalie commanded everybody to go on a search for her. Tai and Van start to scurry off before Natalie stops them . . .

"Hey, um." Natalie clicks her tongue awkwardly, "Can I come search with you guys?" Natalie adds. Van looks at Tai, searching for her answer.

Tai nods, smiling. "Yeah, of course."

Lottie steps forward, her hands tangled within eachother.

"I need Natalie for... just a bit." Lotties voice seemed to echo for a second, Vans eyebrow raised before Tai nodded suspiciously. So Tai and Van went off, leaving Nat And Lottie alone.

"What?" Natalie asked, turning to look at Lottie.

"Just follow me, I won't hurt you."

And so they went into the depths of the trees, the thin branches from earlier suddenly feel thick. The air feels thick, everything but her bones are thick with blood. Lottie yearns for blood, the blood being her own . . .

chapter 4: i love you, you know i love you.

Natalie follows behind Lottie into the cave. They settle down.

Lottie sets down the lantern next to her and puts her legs against her chest while tampering with her dress seems.

"I can't keep doing this, Nat." She spits out, her voice shaking.

"Do what?" Natalie questions, looking at her.

"This. I can't bear being in my mind any longer. This is.. This is torture." Lottie suddenly reaches for something folded in her many layers.

"Lot?" Natalie stands up quickly, her voice becoming alert. "What are you doing."

Lottie reaches out her hands, tilting her head.

"I love you. You know I love you, I'm not gonna hurt you." Her voice steady.

"I won't hurt myself either.

You'll hurt me." Her voice quickly transitions to something so simple yet intense. That sums up Charlotte, she was underwhelming but so overwhelming at the same time. She wasn't meant to be this major.

"You need to kill me." Lottie mumbles.

"Please." She begs.

Natalie, bewildered.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I feel my fate has closed already. I don't belong here, Nat." A tear rolled down her cheek.

"But you're right. We don't belong here, we are going to make it out." Natalie fidgets with her tangled hands. "I promise."

"I don't belong anywhere. I belong to It.

But It doesn't need me anymore." Lottie swallowed, her words instantly falling down her throat.

"I don't give a shit about It. I need you, Lottie." Nat spits out, her words contradicting from her actions.

Lottie exhaled— "What?" She whispered.

Natalie suddenly leaned in, holding Lottie's harsh hips before gently kissing her lips. Gentle was all Lottie needed. Natalie's warm yet harsh lips soothed something in Lottie.

Natalie tipped her head back, letting Lottie's loose hips go.

Lottie's tense, shaky fingers slowly handed Natalie the knife.

"Natalie, It needs you to do this." She murmurs.

Natalie's breath shortens. She looks down at the knife, her breath hitches.

"I can't do this to you, Lot."

Natalie's voice echoes throughout the empty cave. Everything seemed to be hollow. Their

heads, the cave, the trees.

"I love you.

Do you love me?" Lottie whispers, and Natalie nods.

"Please." Lottie mumbles under her breath, trying to hide the tears.

Natalie takes the knife, she hugs Lottie.

"I'm sorry." Natalie spits out with a shaky breath. "Do you want this?"

Lottie confirms— "It's all I've ever wanted.

It's what It wants, Nat."

"I love you." Natalie mumbles before stabbing the knife through her heart. Her hand goes to almost try to help Lottie, but Charlotte quickly denies the help.

"Thank you, Nat."

Nat hugs Lottie.

"Thank you for providing warmth to my cold corpse."

Charlottes eyes shut, and Natalie's eyes open wide.

"Oh, Lot. What have I done?"

She moves the hair that was stuck off Charlottes forehead, before leaving a kiss on it. She holds her cold hand for a second before dropping the knife onto the cold, hard floor of the cave.

She lays her head onto Lottie's chest.

Her fate has closed.

This is what It wanted.

But was "It" just Charlotte?

#charlotte matthews #lottie matthews #lottie mathews x reader #lottie matthews fic #lottienat #lottienat fic #natalie #natalie scatorccio yellowjackets #natalie scatorccio fic

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lu-is-not-ok · 5 months ago

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hi this is a random thought i had to your most recent post (teaser cgs where you discussed the scene being where hes making a distraction etc). is there any merit to a theory where daiyu acted as a sacrifice to get hong lu/baoyu out of the jia household?

my thoughts with this were that if the jias did indeed want to make hong lu/baoyu immortal but hl/baoyu didnt want that, and since daiyu and hl/baoyu were really close, daiyu would have sacrificed, or more likely *surrendered* to protect baoyu against his will?

and since hl/baoyu would need to go back anyway the sacrifice would have been for naught, leading into the canto title The Surrendered Witnessing, which in this context i would interpret as like "the surrendered witnessing his failure of sacrifice"?

idk its late but i wanted to hear your thoughts on it. probably off base a lot.

Yes and no!

Yes to the idea of Daiyu sacrificing themself for the sake of Baoyu/Hong Lu.

With the most recent example of Hong Lu snapping at someone and interrupting them because of the implications of death not being meaningless, it's clear that the idea of someone's life being taken for the sake of letting someone else live is directly tied to Daiyu's death. Ergo - Daiyu likely sacrificed themself for the sake of saving Baoyu's life.

No however to the idea that Daiyu's sacrifice was to get Baoyu out of the household. If I'm correct about my interpretation of the Teaser CGs, Baoyu's chance at escaping the Jia household likely came long after Daiyu's death, meaning it's unlikely for the causal link to be That Direct.

I theorize the reason for this sacrifice to be far simpler.

My theory (which directly ties into my wider Two in One theory) is that, just like in DOTRC, Baoyu ends up beaten to death (or near death) by his father, and just like in DOTRC the jade he was born with is what helps him come back to health.

However, I don't believe Limbus's equivalent of the jade is as straightforward as just letting Baoyu heal quickly, but rather I believe it has something to do with the Jias' search for Immortality of the Mind - perhaps it's an object that stores all of Baoyu's consciousness in it (after all, the original jade in DOTRC is established to have all of what it experienced as a human written on it after it returns to the Land of Illusion).

Daiyu's sacrifice in this case would be a direct giving up of their own life to save Baoyu's - essentially dying to become the vessel for his consciousness.

A death which, as we can see from Hong Lu's behavior, he views as completely meaningless.

#ask #anon #lu speaketh #limbus company #hong lu #hong lu lcb #lin daiyu lcb #lcb speculation #lcb theory

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flamevbirdv · 2 years ago

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video essayists for these trying times!

I watch a lot of youtube so I thought I could round up some recs!

verilybitchie my favorite of the list. bi, trans lense on queer media. expert on calling out lazy representation. famously known for their video "good lgbt representation is boring" but my favorite is a bisexual history of dracula

The Morbid Zoo incredibly smart and sharp commentary on movies and social media. horror fan, clown fan, twilight apologist. my favorite video of hers is the pale man:physical fascism

Maggie Mae Fish powerhouse of the media analysis sphere. I learn so much every time I watch any of her videos. very clear spoken and funny. if you haven't checked her out yet this is your sign. some of her greates hits are "LGBT in fantasy" "superman won't save the cat" "fight club, an analysis" but loki, stalker & the war on terror blew my mind

Princess Weekes bi black icon. the place to go for videos on pop culture, race, feminism, etc. her video how true crime reveals the corruption of the legal system changed my life, no hyperbole. also check out her video on "purity culture & fandom"

Rowan Ellis queer media and history. recently tackles cultural issues like "the infantilization of millenial women" and "corporate queerbaiting" the problem with activist characters is a personal favorite of mine

Ladyknightthebrave a channel with less videos than most of the folks above but you need to watch her video on holocaust cinema

Quality Culture channel shared by two people who love movies (and music!) and research the shit out of their videos. some I really enjoyed are "death note: finding meaning in a meaningless world" "the iron giant: a study in heartfeel film making" and the conflicting ideals of hayao miyazaki

The Princess and the Scrivener it's been a while since they uploaded a video but if you are a fan of disney, these are your gals. however I have to reccomend their videos on dissability and ableism "the wonder of misscasting" and the shape of ableism a joke on the shape of water, yes this video is that old

BONUS!

Elliot Sang he talks about the real world with probably the most nuanced view I've seen from a youtuber ever. another list of greatest hits: "ADHD: a nightmare under capitalism" " is tik tok ruining music?" and "the problem with video essays" LMAO

#video essay #queer media #queer analysis #youtube #james somerton #adyacent #recommendations #mine #bisexuals make the best videos XD #hbomberguy #video essays

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whumperstorm · 8 months ago

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Suppressing Fire - Part 4

Content: Vampire whumper, defiant whumpee, mind control, death threats, loneliness, angst

This one is twice as long as the others lol

First/Previous/Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the first two years, things remain generally the same. The hostility and abuse intertwined with the mundane of everyday life. For Kane, it's all leading up to something. Something big. And as it approaches, closer and closer, he begins to worry he's not ready. His human isn't ready. She's calmed down a bit compared to when he first got her, but she's still defiant. He still disciplines her with frequency. This is bad.

After hemming and hawing over what to do, he enters the human quarters. Before even feeding, he brings attention to the matter at hand.

"I'm laying my cards on the table. I need something from you."

-----

Keegan has gotten far too comfortable with her imprisonment over the past two years. She knows she has, but there's not much she can do about it. There's a few small opportunities over time where she thinks she might be able to escape, but then she remembers how miserable those two months of recovery with her ribs were, and she lets it go. Too risky. She needs something big.

So she copes. She fights back when she's feeling brave, then nurses the bruises she's given for the trouble. She takes out her anger on the poor abused punching bag and tries not to think about the outside world. Stay in the present. Survive each day and keep your head clear. It'll be worth it.

Still, she can't help but perk up when Kane makes a change to their usual schedule. He needs something and he's not just demanding it? She's curious now.

"Yeah?" She asks.

“There’s this… family reunion next week. Well, not just my family. It’s for all of the important families. Mine’s the most important, of course.” His face lights up with condescending pride for a moment before falling back into nerves. “We’re going, and I need you to behave. What's it going to take?"

That's a lot to take in. A family reunion for a bunch of rich vampires?

On one hand, Keegan is almost excited at the thought, even though she'd only be going as an accessory. She's always wanted to go to a fancy party. On the other hand, she hasn't been out of the house since the doctor visit, and just that short time was terrifying.

"What... exactly would I be doing at this event?"

"Oh, not much. Everyone brings their humans as a sign of status. So this- this is the first time I'll be going." Kane wrings his hands anxiously. "All the others will be under persuasion, obviously. All you'll need to do is follow me around, largely silently, and follow orders if given. It will be very easy."

Honestly, it doesn't sound too bad to Keegan. It'd be the first time a vampire hunter has ever observed vampire high society and (hopefully) lived to tell about it. But, it's clear Kane is anxious as hell about this, and willing to offer her something in return. She's not about to miss this chance. She bites her lip, thinking.

What does she want? She'd really like her stove back, microwave meals got old a long time ago, and she misses cooking. Or maybe some time outside? She's been breathing stale air for years. But no, there's something else. Something she needs, and this might be her only chance.

She straightens up, crosses her arms, and looks Kane dead in the eye. "Let me call my sister, and you've got a deal."

"Deal," Kane agrees instantly. "You may make one phone call, supervised, if you behave. That means you will act like a proper human in public. You will not stray. You will obey my orders. You will not speak unless spoken to. You will address me as Master or sir. You will show no signs of defiance or misbehavior. Are we clear?"

Keegan's heart leaps. He's actually agreeing to it? She grimaces at all the ways she has to submit to him, but it's basically meaningless in exchange for that phone call.

"Yes!" She says immediately. Maybe too excitedly, she doesn't want him getting used to this easy compliance, but she can't help it.

"Good." Kane tries to reign in his own excitement, maintain his dignity. His human behaving herself should be the standard, not something to get out of sorts about.

He has to be serious.

“Just know,” he adds, “that if you defy me publicly, I’ll kill you on the spot. I’ll have to, of course, for my reputation.”

"Of course."

The threat gives Keegan pause, not because she plans on being defiant, but because she's not very good at it. She tends to fuck up even when she doesn't mean to.

‘Just focus on the prize, Keegan.’

"Perfect." This might actually work. Kane might actually be presentable. "Now, your neck. I'm hungry."

---

The week passes in a blur. Kane has the human pick out a nice, classy dress from a catalog- he's never had an eye for women's fashion, and he supposes that at least one advantage of having a human with a mind of her own is she can make that decision for him.

On the night of the reunion, he's an utter nervous wreck. He chooses to drive, not wanting to mess his clothes up running and considering it more comfortable for both himself and the human.

"This has to go perfectly," he mutters, half to himself, half to the human in the passenger seat. "No funny business."

"I got it." Keegan insists for what feels like the millionth time.

She's got no idea what's making Kane so nervous, he's cagey about anything relating to his family. It’s making her nervous about what's in store. But, it's a reunion. A party. Whatever has got him rattled is probably some sort of petty drama. Keegan shouldn't panic. She'll follow directions, stay out of the way, and hope for the best. And, hey, the dress is nice.

They arrive just slightly early, exactly as planned. As they enter the decadent ballroom, Kane scans for his parents, but neither seems to have arrived yet. There are lots of other vampires here, though he knows many are still to come. He recognizes several members of his family and of other noble families, but no one he's close to. Each vampire has a perfectly hypnotized human beside them, and it only makes him more self-conscious.

Worse, he gets looks and whispers. He tries to fight the blush that he knows is creeping up his face as he looks around for anyone at all who he knows well enough to chat with.

Unfortunately, just as he's contemplating going to speak with his older sister, Eloise, despite her quite low opinion of him, a far less-palatable sibling approaches him first.

“Kane! What a surprise, I wouldn’t have expected to see you here in a million years!” Anton greets with his human in tow. He grins widely from ear to ear, fangs on display.

-----

Keegan can practically smell the old money of this place. Everyone here has an aura of importance and snobbery, only worsened by their predatory, vampiric eyes. All her fellow humans are dressed up like she is, but unlike her, have all been lost to persuasion. They couldn't have chosen their outfit from a catalog like she did. They're dressed up by their masters like dolls. Trophies.

Objects.

‘Why do they even bother?’ She thinks. ‘We're all just 'food' after all.’

It's awful. Keegan can't watch for long and looks down at her feet, shuffling after her own 'master'. She's so very grateful to have her mind intact, and since they can't feel for themselves, she'll endure their suffering for them. They deserve to be remembered and mourned.

A new voice breaks Keegan out of her thoughts. Kane's older brother, apparently. Keegan's hackles raise immediately when he starts talking. This guy is no good, it's written all over his face. Another very punch-able one, in her opinion. Maybe it runs in the family. Kane though, seems just as uncomfortable as she is and she hopes he'll cut this conversation short.

-----

“Hello, Anton.” Kane says through gritted teeth. “Yes, as you can see, I have a human now. No reason for me not to be here anymore, is there?”

“Yeah, I heard! Only took you a century!” Anton laughs. “I gotta admit, you’ve done well for once in your life, baby brother.” He claps Kane on the back, laughing again.

Kane is not pleased. “Well, no one gives a shit what you think.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, it was a compliment! You’re so sensitive. I mean it! Wrangling a human when you can’t use persuasion at all, it’s very impressive stuff! In fact, the result might be even better. This one’s been hypnotized so much that she hardly reacts even when uninfluenced.” He waved a hand in front of his own human’s face to no response.

Anton turns his gaze directly onto Keegan, eyeing her discomfort hungrily. “See, just like that. I like to see the emotion in their eyes. It’s so boring otherwise.” He leans in close enough for Keegan to smell his shitty cologne. “Having a good time, little lady?”

Keegan's hand twitches at her side, just barely keeping still. He is way too close. She leans as far away as she thinks she can get away with, face full of disgust. What the fuck. If this creep is related to Kane, what is the rest of his family like?? She hopes he can see the murderous intent in her eyes, in lieu of being able to act on them. ‘I'm not afraid of you, leech.’

She might be a little afraid.

Anton loses a bit of interest at her non-response, but the idea has sparked something as he turns back to Kane. “Maybe I’ll try training my next one without persuasion. I mean, it can’t be that hard if you could do it, right?”

Kane rolls his eyes, nudging his human away from Anton. “Thank you so much for that, Anton. Goodbye.”

“Aw, stop, stop, I’m half-kidding. Seriously, great pick. She smells delicious. I’ve just got to have a little taste. You don’t mind, do you?”

Anton takes a step straight toward Keegan and reaches for her neck.

Keegan's heart spikes with fear. She does not want this man touching her. Her hand itches for a stake she hasn't touched in years. Anton is clearly the bully type, and in this case she's the toy he's trying to steal from his victim. He could break her like a twig just to get at Kane. Luckily, Kane steps in and keeps him away, grabbing his wrist and continuing the conversation like her life didn't just flash before her eyes.

“I do mind, actually. If your human’s blood is of such lower quality than mine, I’m sure you can find a suitable replacement on your own, since you’re just so capable.”

Anton rips his hand from Kane’s grasp, the smile never leaving his face. “Of course, makes perfect sense that you’re so possessive of your very first human! Oh, I remember those days. Well, good luck, I can’t wait to see what Mother and Father think.” He smirks before sauntering off.

“Can you believe that guy?” Kane grumbles with a huff.

Keegan relaxes significantly when Anton leaves. "He was... something." Keegan says quietly. Oh, she has opinions alright but doesn't dare speak them outloud, even if Kane might actually share them. She glances around the room, seeing other vampires sharing their humans. It makes her feel ill. "Sir, are... others going to feed from me tonight?" Kane didn't let his brother, but it's clear they aren't friends. No one mentioned she was going to be a party snack.

"No. No one I would say yes to would be tactless enough to ask in the first place." It's an easy answer, one he doesn't have to even consider. The idea of Mother or Father asking to feed from his human is laughable.

Keegan sighs in relief. "OK. Thanks." She's sure it's not for her sake, but still. She's glad for it.

-----

After the encounter with Anton, Kane is too intimidated to try approaching his other older siblings who he's even less close with. He eyes the entrance as people come in, sticking anxiously to the wall, when he finally sees someone he knows well. Unfortunately.

Bellamy comes waltzing in, a human at his side, arm linked with his- and like Kane's own, obviously unpersuaded. “What is he doing here?” he mutters to himself, alarmed.

The entrance garners more gossipy whispers than his own, and that's when he realizes this could be good. “Wait. Wait, this is great, actually. He could take the heat off me.”

That is, until Bellamy locks eyes with him for the first time in decades, and Kane realizes he's screwed. He tries to take off, beckoning his human to follow behind him, but Bellamy catches up easily.

“Kane, my dear, it has simply been too long!” His voice is sing-songy and light.

“Fuck off, I can’t be seen with you! Why are you even here?” Kane hisses.

The woman at Bellamy's side looks to be in her thirties, and perfectly content to be here, despite full awareness of the situation. She waves at Keegan with a warm smile.

Keegan is happy to hide at the edges of the party. Avoiding any more conversation would make the night easier to get through. But of course it doesn't last long, when a vampire and his lucid human make a beeline towards them.

The human lady waves at her. Keegan stares dumbfounded for a moment before sending a small one back. She has so many questions. God does it feel good to look into another human's eyes. She looks kind. Too kind to be in this hellhole.

Bellamy looks genuinely hurt by Kane’s words, his eyebrows knotting together briefly before he regains his composure. “Oh, politics. Some people are hard to get a hold of, and this made for a fantastic opportunity. Though I was unaware you’d number among them tonight! Shall we meet in private, darling? We absolutely must catch up.”

Kane taps his foot, agitated. “Fine, just get away from me before people start thinking we’re together.”

The man winks. “Follow me in five.”

He and the woman disappear down one of the connecting hallways.

Having no one else to gossip to, Kane turns to Keegan. “That guy? He had his entire life handed to him on a golden platter. Cast away everything by refusing to take a human when he came of age. No one who’s anyone would be caught dead associating with him anymore. He was the eldest son in the most important family next to mine and now he’s an even bigger laughing stock than me! Ugh, of course he won’t even use persuasion on the human that he now apparently has. Has to fucking flaunt it. Can’t believe he’s showing his face here.”

Keegan can't tell if he's actually expecting an answer from her. She opens and closes her mouth a few times before settling on, "She didn't seem like she needed it, sir." What's so special about this vampire that his human is perfectly content by his side? Keegan envies her.

"Well, lucky fucking him." Kane responds.

-----

After a short while has passed, Kane follows down the same path the other pair had taken minutes ago. He weaves through corridors before they arrive at the storage room he and Bellamy would always hide out in when they were boys, boxes piled high around the two waiting for them.

As soon as they enter, Bellamy moves toward Kane with arms outstretched, obviously going in for a hug. Kane holds out a hand to stop him. “Cut that shit out. Why am I here?”

“Well, it’s been so long!” Bellamy exclaims. “It’s been, what, eighty-five years? Do you have a telephone, my dear? Marvelous things, humans do simply come up with the most amazing inventions. We should exchange numbers, keep in better touch!”

“Did you somehow forget what happened the last time we spoke?” Kane eyes the woman. “Why do you have a human? Finally come to your senses?”

“Oh of course, where are my manners?” He turned to Keegan. “My name is Bellamy Verta,” He gives a little bow, “and this beautiful young lady is Caroline.” He gestures to his companion with an extravagant flourish.

“It’s nice to meet you both.” she says.

“And who might you be, young lady?” Bellamy asks Keegan.

In stark contrast to the last vampire they spoke to, this ‘Bellamy’ almost immediately puts Keegan at ease. First of all, he calls his human by her name, Caroline. Keegan has never heard her name come out of Kane's mouth. Second, he's speaking directly to her. Not at her, or ignoring her completely.

"Keegan." She responds. Then with a quick glance at Kane, reluctantly adds, "...Sir."

"It's lovely to meet you, Keegan." Bellamy reaches out and shakes her hand, his grip soft and warm in mannerism, even if his hands themselves are a bit cold. "I do hope you're not finding this party completely dreadful."

Bellamy turns back to Kane. “As for your question, Caroline and I have a mutually beneficial relationship. She is no prisoner of mine, and is free to come and go as she pleases. She was kind enough to accompany me to this event, given the stringent requirements for entry. Thank you once again for this, darling.”

“It’s no trouble at all.” Caroline smiles.

Caroline is free? She's free, and she chose to be here. Surrounded by murderous vampires and their dead-eyed humans. Suddenly, Keegan decides she hates her. She's been forced into this hell against her will and here's another woman having a perfectly good time with the first vampire Keegan has ever seen that doesn't want to use persuasion. Why does she get to have it easy? She can't quite mask her disbelieving glare.

Well, maybe Bellamy could help? If... if this reunion goes smoothly at least. He and Kane have history, though they clearly didn't part on good terms. She wants to speak to him more but Kane is right there. His threat hangs over her head. Don't speak unless spoken to. So she stands there silently simmering in frustration.

It's obvious Keegan wants to speak. “Do whatever you want, there’s no one here I need to impress," Kane instructs.

“Perhaps you and Caroline can have a chat?" Bellamy suggests. "Dear Kane and I do have so much to catch up on, some of which are rather private matters.” He motions Kane to follow him to the other side of the room.

“Whatever.” Kane gives an exasperated sigh and walks along with him.

Caroline looks after Kane wryly. "Oh, he seems charming," she says, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"Very." Keegan mutters.

She doesn't want to be a complete dick to this stranger, but she has to ask. As soon as the two vampires are conversing, she hisses, "How can you stand it? Being around all... This. Being around him. He's one of them!" Sure he's polite, but he's still a vampire. What if it's all for show?

Caroline smiles at her, pity in her eyes. "Bellamy is the kindest person I've ever met, human or vampire. In fact, in my experience, humans have been the more dreadful bunch." She gestures back toward the ballroom. "Most vampires aren't like this, you know. The stuck-up noble types. They're just regular people. Most haven't even interacted with a human in their lives, let alone hurt one."

That somehow makes Keegan feel worse. She really got the short end of the stick, then. ‘Don't fucking pity me when you won the vampire lottery’ She thinks sourly.

"I don't care!" She growls. "They're predators. They've ruined my life." She turns and kicks a nearby box hard enough that her foot stings. "Why do you get to be free?" She whispers.

The smile disappears. "I'm sorry, hun. But... Kane ruined your life. Bellamy wouldn't hurt a fly. Literally. When there's a bug in the house, I've gotta be the one to take care of it 'cause he's afraid of creepy-crawlies. Vampires aren't a monolith as much as humans aren't. Bellamy saved my life." Though sometimes, she finds herself falling into the trap of thinking of all of humanity as unsalvageable.

"I'm sorry things have turned out so horribly for you. I hope it gets better," she says sincerely.

Keegan wants to shout, to scream. Maybe this would be easier if she was chained up in a basement somewhere, so freedom wouldn't be standing just out of reach and mocking her. But Caroline is being so patient and kind. She has nothing to do with Keegan's suffering.

She deflates. "I'm sorry. I just- Seeing you here, happy..." she gestures vaguely. "It's a lot." Her lip wobbles. "You're the first human I've spoken to in over two years." The first person really, other than Kane.

"You're the first human I've spoken to in over a decade," Caroline admits. She steps forward, her heart aching for Keegan. "You look like you could use a hug. You want one?"

Keegan starts to cry. "...Please." She hasn't felt a kind touch in just as long. Only pain and harsh manhandling. "I wanna go home..." she mumbles, barely audible. It's pathetic, but she's so lonely, and Caroline is someone who will actually listen.

Caroline wraps her up in a warm embrace. "I'm sorry," she says softly. "I know everything's awful right now. Just hang in there. You never know where life will take you. Take it one day at a time."

Keegan cries into Caroline's shoulder, tightly gripping the fabric of her shirt. It feels good to be held. She doesn't want it to end.

"I'm t-trying." She sobs. "Thank you."

Caroline keeps holding her, as long as she needs, gently rubbing her back. She figures Keegan needs this.

-----

“I can’t believe, after everything you’ve been through, that you would just… subjugate someone like this! Look at her, she has bruises on her arm!” Bellamy gestures pointedly at Keegan. "It's awful!"

Caroline lets go of Keegan, turning to watch the argument. She places herself protectively between Keegan and Kane.

“She wouldn't have bruises if she fucking behaved!” Kane retorts. “I don’t know why you suddenly insist on acting like I’m lesser than the rest of my family when you were always the one to tell me I wasn’t. I’m a De Sang, this is what we do.”

“I didn’t mean–” Bellamy pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, “Why is it that the thing you want to live up to is their cruelty?”

“It’s not cruelty, it’s the way the world works! You’re the one who’s a freak.” Kane spits. “You just don’t want me to be happy! Now that I have a human, I can finally get the respect I deserve!”

Bellamy scoffs. “Oh, is that it? Are you happy now, Kane? I can see that sucking up to those pricks has made you so much less of a bitter, miserable person. You’re just the absolute picture of happiness!”

“I need. A minute.” Kane takes a deep breath and glares at Keegan. “Stay. Here.” He storms out of the storage room, slamming the door behind him.

Keegan holds her breath when Kane turns to her with fury in his eyes and flinches when he slams the door.

“I apologize.” Bellamy says, “That got out of hand. I do hope I’ve caused no undue trouble for you, Keegan.”

"It's ok. He, uh, only hurts me when he's mad at me specifically." She says, subconsciously rubbing the bruises Bellamy pointed out. "Which is often, unfortunately. You two used to be friends?" She can't imagine someone as polite as Bellamy wanting to be around Kane.

Bellamy looks to her apologetically, like he's embarrassed of ever having been Kane's friend. "When we were boys. I haven't spoken to him in eighty-five years. He's always been prone to bouts of anger, but not so explosive as he is now. Or perhaps, he simply never had the opportunity."

Keegan sighs. "He just didn't have a human to kick around yet. Thank you for at least trying to talk him out. I've never met a vampire like you before." She feels a bit guilty for calling him a 'predator' just moments ago, but hopefully he was too preoccupied to have heard it.

"I'm sorry my kind has left such a horrible impression on you," Bellamy says sadly.

Caroline nudges him. "Bel, isn't there anything we can...?"

Bellamy shakes his head. "I'm afraid not." Attempting to steal a human from this event would go poorly for all involved, he's sure.

Keegan wants to cry again. "If you could- I know it's a long shot and probably isn't worth it- but if you could keep trying?" God this is pathetic. "Keep trying to convince him?"

"Of course, dear. Of course I can," Bellamy promises.

It's not hard to anticipate Kane’s return, his stomping audible from a mile away.

“My mother’s here. We’re going back out.” he announces, grabbing Keegan’s bruised forearm.

“Kane, wait." Bellamy's voice is firm. He chooses his words carefully in an attempt to appeal to Kane's values. "Please. I know things got out of hand tonight, but none of that is Keegan's fault. She's only a human. Surely, violence against someone so much weaker than yourself is beneath you. You're better than this."

Kane hesitates. "W-whatever. We're going," he says, but his grip on Keegan relaxes just a bit.

Bellamy looks over to Keegan. “It truly was lovely to meet you, dear. I do wish you the best.”

'Just a human- so much weaker'. There's that awful talking-down-to again, but it works at least a little. She and her arm are grateful to Bellamy for trying.

"Likewise. You too Caroline." Keegan responds. Kane is pulling her back out before she can say much else, but she mouths a sincere "Thank you" as they turn the corner.

Caroline waves at her, sadness in her eyes.

-----

Kane leads her back out to the main room. In the few minutes they’ve been gone, the room has filled out with occupants. Kane lets go of Keegan, trusting her to follow him on her own. He walks up to an older vampire woman, dressed to the nines. “Hello, Mother!” Kane says, a huge smile plastered on his face.

“Oh! Kane, Anton was just telling me you were here!” Kane’s mother exclaims.

“I have a human!” he boasts, gesturing to Keegan.

“That’s very nice.” She nods, not even glancing at Keegan. “Finally catching up! Say, your one hundredth is soon, isn’t it? Maybe we could do something for it!”

“It was two years ago, actually!” Kane’s smile falters for a fraction of a second before returning to its chipper state.

“Oh, well, there’s always two hundred!” she says breezily.

“Yeah!” Kane agrees, glancing around a bit. “U-um, do you know when Father…?”

Kane’s mother smiles. “He was right behind me, should be here any second. Listen, I really would like to stay and chat, but there are so many people I need to speak with tonight.”

His smile really does fall then. “Oh, but I thought-”

She puts a hand near his shoulder, making the motion of a comforting gesture without actually touching him. “You’re doing good. Keep it up.”

Kane beams. “I will!” he nearly shouts as his mother walks away. “That went amazing! That went so well!” Kane enthuses as soon as she's out of earshot.

Did it? That was hard for Keegan to watch. If this is how they treat him, no wonder Kane doesn't talk about his family. She's glad to be ignored by Kane's mother, she wishes he'd stop showing her off like a trophy and drawing attention to her. ‘I'm not an object.’ She reminds herself once again.

Suddenly, all chit-chat dissipates as a new vampire enters.

He doesn’t look much different than any other vampire, aside from obviously being the oldest. He appears in his seventies, though he is likely hundreds, if not over a thousand years in age. But… there is something wrong about him, something any aware human will be able to feel. An energy permeates the room, a deep, human instinct screaming RUN, YOU ARE IN DANGER, YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW. This man, above all, is a predator made to hunt things like Keegan.

The human beside him looks dead, far beyond the entranced looks of everyone else. There is zero spark of life behind his eyes, yet he continues standing and breathing, moving along with the vampire like a puppet, clearly somehow alive.

Kane puts a hand to the center of Keegan's back and begins leading her in a beeline directly for the man.

"Father!” Kane calls, all excitement and nerves.

-----

If Death has a physical form, Keegan is sure she has just found it. This is Kane's father. This monster. The blood drains from her face and her entire body trembles. She's been scared before, sure. She grew up in a toxic, violent household and now kills vampires for a living. Fear has kept her alive. But she's only felt true, primal terror of this kind twice in her life. Once, when her mother's throat was torn out in front of her, and now here. At this moment, despite all logic, Keegan is sure with every bone in her body that she is not going to survive the night.

Kane pushes her forward as if to the gallows.

Kane’s father glances briefly at Keegan before turning his eyes on Kane.

The man sighs, shooting Kane a glare. “What is it?” His voice is deep and cold.

“I-I got a human…” he claims timidly, his confidence draining at the icy reception.

Kane’s father does not ignore Keegan as his wife had. Instead, he turned his gaze directly onto her, piercing red eyes almost digging under Keegan's skin. The man brings a hand to Keegan's chin and tilts her head to the side to expose her feeding scars, his skin devoid of warmth.

“Sloppy work,” he comments.

The only reason Keegan does not rip her head away from him is because she knows it would only bring about her demise that much faster. She doesn't blink, staring straight into his eyes. She feels like a child curled up in bed, watching the closet door through the darkness of the room. The moment she blinks the monster will get her. Her skin burns under his touch despite the cold of his hand. ‘Please, I don't want to die. Not like this.’

Kane rushes to defend himself. “I wasn’t, um, that good at feeding at first, but I figured it out! For the past year and a half, I’ve-”

Kane’s father puts a hand up to stop him, and Kane’s mouth snaps shut instantly. His other hand is still on the underside of Keegan's chin, so close to her throat. “It can’t be helped. Passable.” The man finally lets go of her, and walks away without another word.

Kane’s eyes are wide. “Passable…” he repeats to himself in awe, clutching his hands to his chest.

The rest of the night goes without incident, Kane seeming in high spirits. Anton does give Keegan a few glances as it goes on, but at one point he shrugs, as if to say ‘not worth it’. Kane attempts small-talk with a few other people throughout the night, who all largely disregard him. He spends a lot of time wallflowering by himself. Occasionally he starts chatting with Keegan, then realizes he shouldn't be doing that and stops, embarrassed. After a few hours, people start to leave. Kane only exits once his parents do. As they get back in the car, he grins at Keegan. "That went fantastically. You can make your phone call as soon as we get home. Well done."

Keegan doesn't match Kane's good mood. She takes a while to recover from the interaction with his father. She's shaky, and doesn't want him out of her line of sight. He seems fully uninterested in them which helps, but being trapped in the same building with such a threat is rough on her nerves. She stubbornly holds on to her poker face, keeping all her fear in her clenched fists.

Eventually she's able to relax, especially when Kane dares to talk to her a bit. At least he isn't a threat to her at the moment. It's all worth it in the end too, as he keeps his end of the deal. She lived through the night and she's going to get to speak to her sister for the first time in years! It's so exciting, and also a whole new kind of terrifying after so long without contact.

-----

When they return home, Kane removes his tie. "Go on," he says, nodding at the rotary phone sitting on a small table in the corner of the living room. "You've earned it."

He sits on the couch and picks up a book from the mug table.

‘I shouldn't have to earn it.’ Keegan thinks. She can't find it in herself to be mad though. Not right now.

“Ok!” She practically runs to the phone and begins to dial. She feels sick to her stomach with nerves. She doesn't even know what she's going to say. 'I love you. I'm alive. Are you safe??' Those are at the top of the list. But truly she just wants to hear Lohitha’s voice. It's been so, so long.

The phone rings for a while. Each one builds dread in Keegan's stomach. But it is quite early in the morning. It'll just take a minute for her to answer. Right? Keegan bites her lip. ‘C'mon, pick up. please.’

Finally, the line connects and Keegan hears shuffling of fabric and a quiet yawn. "Lohitha?!" She cries desperately. "It's me, Keegan!"

There's a beat of silence. Then a deep, male voice answers. "Who?"

Keegan's heart stops. "Wh- I'm... I'm Keegan Khatri. I'm looking for Lohitha Khatri? Who are y-"

The man interrupts her, tired irritation in his voice. "You got the wrong number." CLICK

The line goes dead. Keegan gasps. No. no no no. She knows that was the right number. She's had it memorized since the moment they moved to that address. But... It's an apartment. She didn't even THINK about that. Lohi wouldn't be living there alone, of course she'd move. Keegan was so caught up in speaking to her she wasted her chance like an idiot! Her eyes flood with tears and she slowly turns towards Kane. He said one phone call. One.

Kane can quietly hear the other line with his supernatural hearing, even from halfway across the room.

He looks up from his book. "I'm no conman, human. I'm a man of my word. One successful phone call." He looks back down and flips the page.

Of course. Kane's at least practical. She lets out a sigh of relief. Keegan is so anxious that she isn't thinking straight.

“Thank you…”

She's not sure how to contact Lohitha now. She could be anywhere. But there's one person who would possibly know. Her hunting partner.

She dials. Only two rings this time before an answer.

"Vivian speaking."

Keegan sighs in relief and smiles. "Hey, partner."

"Keegan??"

"Yeah Vee, it's me. I'm alive. Surprise?"

"What?? The fuck? Where have you been? We thought you were-"

"I was taken. Still am, but... he let me call."

"Oh my God. Ok. Where are you? I will get a group together and come after you I swear-"

"No- Vivian no." Keegan glances at Kane. "That's not- I'm ok. Mostly. I'm not calling for a rescue," ‘as much as I wish I could.’ "I need to know. Lohitha, is she OK? Tell me she's ok."

"Oh- yes! Keegan she's fine! She's been living with me. She's just fine."

Just like that, a massive weight is lifted off Keegan's shoulders. She finally knows. After all this time. Her little sister is safe. Tears of relief pour down her face. "-Thank you, Vee. Thank you so much." She cries. "Please, can you go get her? I need to talk to her. Please."

"Oh… I’m… Keegan she's not home right now. I'm so sorry-"

"What??" No. No. This can't be happening. She was so close!

"She's on a school trip. She won't be home for a few days! Is there any possible way you can call again?"

"No, this.... this is my only one." Keegan says in defeat. After all that... She can't even hear her sister's voice. Her heart is shattering. "Just... Tell her I love her? And I'm so, so sorry. I'm trying to come back to her."

"Of course. I swear I will. She loves you too. She misses you so much."

Keegan sobs. She can't take this anymore. "T-thank you. Please... please k-keep her safe."

"I won't let anything happen to her. You have my word." Quietly Vivian adds, "is there no way you can tell me where-"

"No. He's listening. I just needed... closure." It sounds so final. But she hopes the wording will appease Kane.

-----

Kane does not like the sound of ‘I'm trying to come back to her.’ If his human escaped, he would be the laughing-stock of the century. No one's human ever escapes. No one else's human has the capacity to even want to.

This is why he doesn't allow phone calls. It puts the wrong ideas in his human's head, makes her think she serves a purpose outside being his. The human on the other line keeps trying to plan a rescue, too. This is not good.

"None of this 'trying to go back' business," he reminds her, not looking up from his book.

Hot anger rushes through Keegan. She whips around, face still streaked with tears. "Excuse me for trying to comfort my kid sister who has lost the only family she has left!" She spits, then immediately flinches from her mistake. Fuck, she didn't mean to talk back, this is the worst time-

Kane gives her a deadpan look. "You're lucky I'm in a very good mood, human. Final warning. Behave." He waves for her to continue her call.

She's on thin ice here. She's definitely lucky. She turns back towards the wall with the phone.

"It's not an option, Vivian. But I'm surviving."

"I cannot sit back knowing you're trapped there." Vivian insists. Keegan can tell she's trying to get her to slip her a hint. But Keegan was never the clever one. There's nothing she can say that would not end badly for her or any humans that tried to rescue her. No hidden clue she can pass on.

"You're an incredible friend, Vivian." Keegan says instead. "The best partner. And I love you too. Tell the squad I say hey. Kick my dad in the balls if he tries coming around. Sober or not."

"Keegan you are not about to end this call. I will kill you myself-"

She has to end it. Vivian will never let it go and Keegan can't handle much more. "Lohitha has always wanted a dog, by the way. Goodbye Vivian."

"Don't you fucking dare-"

Click. Keegan places the phone back on the wall, hanging up. She stares unmoving in the silence that follows.

-----

Kane is honestly torn. He does feel for the human: he knows what it's like to be separated from the love of his family. He honestly considers giving her a second chance to call her sister.

But no, he has to stay firm. He is a person, the human is not. It's very clear that if the human talks to her sister, she's just going to be that more determined to get back to her. And he still remembers the horrible pain of boiling water from two years ago. A clean break is best.

"You can go back to your room now," he suggests in the awkward silence.

His human doesn't speak, doesn't look at him. She just shuffles back to her room, staring at her feet. Kane, quite honestly, forgets about the human's troubles soon after she leaves the room. He heads upstairs to his own room, giddy with excitement about the relatively-positive reception from his parents.

The moment the door is shut behind her, Keegan slides down the wall and cries. She doesn't care if Kane hears. She doesn't care about much at all anymore. Her heart has just split in two.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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