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kcyars520 · 2 years ago

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‘What Can I Not Handle at This Point’: Ariana Madix on That Affair

The “Vanderpump Rules” star talks about filming the season finale with her ex Tom Sandoval and what she won’t do next season.

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By Krystie Lee Yandoli

May 18, 2023, 12:00 a.m. ET

After a few uncertain years, the Bravo reality series “Vanderpump Rules” seems to have been given a new lease on life.

Over the last two months, the news broke that Tom Sandoval, a co-star on the show, cheated on Ariana Madix, his girlfriend of nearly a decade, with their friend and fellow cast member Raquel Leviss. Viewers’ interest in the show has waned in recent years. But with this new twist, there’s no longer a question of if there will be a season 11. Rather, it’s a question of what that will look like.

While the show — following the drama of people who had been and are currently working at the West Hollywood restaurant SUR, owned by Lisa Vanderpump, a breakout star from another Bravo reality show “The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills” — has seen its fair share of controversies, none have had this level of impact and consequence. The cast isn’t just a group of young adults anymore; the stakes are higher, and “Scandoval,” as the affair is called, dismantled not only their romantic relationships but their financial futures, friendships and real lives off camera, too. In turn, audience interest has piqued.

Ms. Madix has long been a fan favorite on “Vanderpump Rules” for openly talking about her struggles with grief and mental health. And now since the affair has come to light, her popularity has soared.

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Now her star is on the rise. She has scored brand deals with companies like Bloomingdale’s and Bic Razors, released her own line of merchandise, co-starred in a Lifetime movie and even attended the White House Correspondents’ Association Dinner. She’s also in the midst of opening a sandwich shop with her friend and fellow cast member Katie Maloney.

Inside the World of ‘Vanderpump Rules’

The Bravo reality TV series follows Lisa Vanderpump, a star of “The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills,” and the staff at her restaurants and bars.

Cheating Scandal: Affair rumors involving two members of the “Vanderpump Rules” cast who had been a couple for nine years and a co-star have recently gone viral. Here is what to know.

Letting Her Clothes Do the Talking: When one of the women at the center of the scandal was photographed on her way to the show’s Season 10 reunion, she knew all eyes were on her. She didn’t miss her chance to tell the world how she felt.

Meet the Boss: As the show’s star and producer, Ms. Vanderpump is in the unique position of being both puppet and puppeteer. But authenticity is crucial for success, she said.

Season 10 finished filming last fall, but cameras picked up again in March after producers learned about the affair. In an edited interview, Ms. Madix spoke for the first time in months about Mr. Sandoval and how she feels about being on reality television.

Why do you think the public has latched onto this cheating scandal?

I think our relationship was so longstanding that people, including myself, saw it as end game. I also think the people involved were so duplicitous and deceitful. [Mr. Sandoval] was also someone who was constantly preaching about integrity when it came to other people taking accountability and I think that shift in him — having no integrity — is something that shocked people. Plus, there are also so many people who can relate to the situation and can put themselves in my shoes.

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Your professional success seems to be coming at the cost of your personal life. How are you grappling with that?

It is a lot of pressure because for any public-facing woman or any woman in general who goes through something, there are a lot of expectations around how you’re supposed to handle things. It is a lot of pressure when someone puts you on a pedestal; eventually you’re going to fall off. I’m just trying to remain centered in myself and make sure that I’m just being me and living life, and sometimes that’s going to mean making mistakes and not doing what everybody wants me to do. But it is really incredible to have that support and I feel as though it did come at a cost, a very unexpected cost.

How did it feel to pick up filming again after news of the affair broke?

A lot of times I feel as though with our friend group and with our show, I’m in a position where someone said something or there was an argument, and I wasn’t there to see it, so I struggle to know how I feel about that kind of situation. In this situation, I felt so strongly. I knew exactly how I felt.

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What was it like to film the show’s season finale with your ex?

When he sat down on that couch [during filming] and tried to give the sad sack act, I knew he was going to try to sell a bit. I knew he was trying to be that person so that I would be the angry person; I could see what was happening in front of my face, and it was really frustrating. Honestly, when he started yelling at me, I felt a little bit satisfied that he was finally going to be the real him.

Kristen Doute, Tom’s ex-girlfriend, also appeared in the finale with you. Your friendship has come a long way. Why was it important to film this scene? She was at my house [after I found out about the affair]. I think at that point my blood was 80 percent rosé and nicotine because I was burning the wick at both ends. She was asked [by producers] if [she would film] and she said, “This is up to you.” I love her dearly. Their relationship was much different than my relationship with him, but at the same time, I think there is a common denominator when it comes to certain problems. What’s crazy is their relationship ended 10 years ago, and yet, somehow, he’s managed to not grow in those areas at all.

What was it like to film the reunion?

It was kind of a weird day because I feel like most of the time in any other reunion, we go through the whole season. But in this reunion, it was really just everybody against one or against two [cast members]. We’ve never been united like that ever.

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Do you think there’s room for redemption for Tom or Raquel?

I think any chance that either of them separately had for that ended when they started giving trash interviews victimizing themselves, her TMZ [interview] and his Howie Mandel [interview]. I think had they not done or said all of those horrible things, maybe one day, but I think the answer ultimately is no. In our friend group, the answer is no.

Are you open to filming with them?

No. I have nothing to say to either of them. Our show is very real and follows a real group of friends, and neither of them are in the group of friends, so, good luck.

Has this experience changed how you feel about being on reality TV?

I’ve always had a little bit of that anxiousness about saying something that would upset someone or whatever, and I still have that to some degree. But I also feel as though the worst possible things that could happen to somebody happened to me on this show: the loss of Charlotte, my dog of 18 years, the loss of my grandma, this whole thing happening very publicly. Part of me feels like, What’s the worst that can happen? The worst already did. So going forward, it feels a little bit like, What can I not handle at this point?READ 46 COMMENTS

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greensparty · 2 years ago

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Movie Review: Air

It is kind of ironic that the Academy Awards that Ben Affleck has won are for writing (for Good Will Hunting with Matt Damon) and producing (as a producer on Argo), but he’s a superstar known for acting and directing...yet he hasn’t won for acting or directing. When he was a young ambitious actor from Boston and then in NYC, I met Mr. Affleck in 1997 when he joined Kevin Smith for a screening of Chasing Amy (one of his best performances). He was really nice and he was getting ready to film GWH that month. Since the success of GWH, everyone has been hoping for a Damon / Affleck reunion. While they have produced several films and TV shows together and they co-wrote Ridley Scott’s The Last Duel, they’ve only done small supporting roles together (mainly in Kevin Smith films). Now with their Artists Equity production company, they are back together again producing. But the super exciting news is Air, directed by Affleck and starring Damon and Affleck and a tremendous ensemble cast. By this point the two are one of the great on-screen duos and since GWH and Affleck has become quite a director in his own right.

movie poster

In this biopic, Sonny Vaccaro (Damon) is a sales exec at Nike, which in 1984 is the lowest-selling sneaker. As the company is trying to court some basketball players for some endorsement deals, Sonny has the bright idea instead of getting three or four rookies, they take their entire budget and see if they can get rookie Michael Jordan. With the help of Nike execs Rob Strasser (Jason Bateman), Howard White (Chris Tucker), and CEO Phil Knight (Affleck), they try to pursue that. Sonny is so serious, he even goes to Michael Jordan’s mother (Viola Davis) to pitch her to see if they can pitch her son.

the Air Jordan sneaker from 1984

While it is a very different story than Argo, Affleck approached this in a similar way: both are biopics taking place in the director’s lifetime but very different than the world in 2023, both films get right into the world of the protagonist and initiate the stakes and both films build to those stakes, and both are stories the average viewer will know the outcome going into it, but will be on the edge of their seat the whole time! This is a sports movie without the sports, it’s the sales and marketing that is more competitive than professional sports and it’s the first great movies of 2023! I also loved how it was edited like an 80s movies and he even pulls soundtrack music from Harold Faltermeyer and Tangerine Dream (along with tons of 80s hits). Damon is very likable and the viewer is rooting for him to make it happen. Obviously we are viewing this movie from the perspective of knowing that the Air Jordan shoes are one of the most successful shoes ever and that Jordan himself is one of the biggest athletes of all time, but this isn’t so much about the ending as it is the inner workings of how they get there and the need to make a big gamble that just might payoff. The supporting cast is quite impressive notably Davis who keeps a poker face the whole time, but is quietly orchestrating the master plan. Argo is still my favorite movie Affleck has directed, but this one is insanely awesome! Maybe he’ll finally score a directing or acting Oscar.

Affleck directing

For info on Amazon Studios’ Air: https://www.amazon.com/AIR-Matt-Damon/dp/B0B8Q3JMCG

4.5 out of 5 stars

#AIR #movie review #ben affleck #film geek #matt damon #michael jordan #nike

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taeyamayang · 2 years ago

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FROM WHENCE WE CAME

ㅡa fangirl, her idol, and a funny twist of fate.

❀ sakusa kiyoomi x fem!reader

❀ tags: fluff! | crack if you laugh | serendipity | first meets | fan x idol to potential lovers

❀ warnings: sakusa's charms | oh and i uh curse a lot, sorry | mentions of kidnapping and death in just one part, dont wanna freak yall out

a/n: i hereby serve you a light one shot to ease your stress. also, my writing here is stupid and messy. nothing serious, tossing that poetic shit on the side. WE ARE SIMPING FOR THE SAKUSA KIYOOMI. YOU WITH ME??

note: will edit when the sun's up. enjoy

"what?!" your eyes round at the words sputtered by the security guard of the building. "wait, so you're telling me that my car got towed?!"

"honda, dark blue, and a license plate with 6 or 8, i'm not sure but it's even. it was parked over there." the guard points at the empty spot near the fences of the parking lot.

"that's my car! why would they tow my car parked inside a parking lot?!" at this point you could feel the frustration boiling inside you as you try to make sense of the situation.

"it's past nine. they don't allow overnight parkings at the sports arena. the admin has been strict since the incident with the football fans who camped for tickets for the championship game last year."

"could they at least be considerate? i mean, i wasn't planning on leaving my car here! i am fifteen minutes late because i was at the maintenance office waiting for the staff who happen to pick up my missing bracelet." you explain your case although you're certain that it's pointless. right at this very second your car is being dragged to the nearest pick up point and the man guarding his post has nothing to do to stop it.

"at least you found your bracelet." the man shrugs. he offers you a bit of positivity in liue of easing your outburst.

you let out a long sigh, shoulders slumped forward. afterall, he is right. your bracelet means so much to you that you even traded the chance to meet the players of MSBY just to look for it. meeting them is a once in a lifetime experience but losing your bracelet equates to losing a generational heirloom.

"look, i'll help you get a cab." the guard says to comfort you.

"thank you, sir." you say with defeated tone. you flash him a weak smile before shifting your eyes to an empty parking lot... or so it seems like?

it was hard to spot but if you squint your eyes into the almost-pitch dark lot, you could see a car tucked at the farthest corner. the silver logo of four intertwined circles flicker against the solar lamp post on the road adjacent to it, thereafter catching your attention. it's a luxury brand car, audi to be exact; painted in matte black and parked, or rather untowed, you emphasized.

"what's that car doing over there?" you ask the gentleman. anger and jealousy slowing seething inside you.

"oh, he always goes out after closing. the admin knows." just as he was about to explain further, a man pushes the glass door of the building. "here he is." the security gestures to the man in his sweatpants and white shirt. a shadow is casted from his shoulders up to his face making it difficult for you to see his features.

"have a safe drive." the guard greets him in a casual and friendly tone. one that could give you a hint that this man often stays behind closing that the guard has become acquainted with him.

"you too." he says.

the voice. you can't miss this voice.

the countless hours spent on watching MSBY's interviews and games has finally served its purpose.

you keep your eyes at him as he steps forward. the shadow that cloaked his face gradually rolls up as the light from the lamp post illuminates his features. his hair fresh from the shower and his usual white mask covering half of his face. your speculations are confirmed.

you missed the meet and greet but he's here.

sakusa kiyoomi.

you know everything about him. your workmates even deemed you as sakusa's crazy little fangirl because of how much you look up to him. taking advantage of your extensive knowledge about him, you were able to stop your initial reaction which is to scream to his face like a lunatic.

sakusa absolutely hates loud people.

that's why he's often seen frowning at the other three: miya, hinata, and bokuto when they're on a practice match.

so what do you have to do?

you must act edgy, just like him. a man with class. prim and proper and barely amused by trivial things. yes, you must earn sakusa's favor.

"hey." you managed to say in a calm voice.

in response, he arches a brow as he looks at you through his bottom lashes.

FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. ABORT MISSION. THAT WAS FUCKING HOT

HOW ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO KEEP CALM WHEN FACED WITH A HOT SEXY MAN??

you choke on air staring at him and when you were about to embarrass, you thank the gods of olympus for the security guard saving your ass for nth time tonight.

"no ones picking up." the man says as he turns the screen of his phone to you. flashed on the screen is a loading sign on a transportation app. worry begins to cloud you. forget about the hot sexy man next to you, how the fuck will you go home?

"at what time do you think the towing station closes?"

"even if they're open 'till now. they won't release your car tonight. it has to sit there for at least twelve hours."

"twelve hours?!" you shout, petrfied and losing your edge. once you realized it you immediately clear your throat and pull yourself together. you must make a good first impression on sakusa kiyoomi so you can boast it on your stan twitter account. you look at him at the corner of your eyes before stating in a confident manner, "i'll take the bus."

"oh, dear you can't!" the guard presses his brows together.

way to go, sir. you thought. now your pretentious indepedent-obviously-not-bothered-by simple-mishaps woman role is shattered. the man continues.

"some say that a kidnapping near the area happened recently. the woman is about your age." he leans forward, voice dropping to a chilling whisper. "rumors has it that the woman was found dead and sealed inside a drum." his narrative deserves a set of campfire and smores, a tale told by old people. nonetheless, if it were to be true you are left to risk your life on the road.

after a moment, a question pops in from a person you momentarily forgot about.

"where do you live?" sakusa says, hence you turn to face him. his height easily towers you but what's even more notable than his height is the intimidating aura he exudes.

"kunitachi." you reply and his face instantly crumples. he lives on the other side of the city (of course you know that, pft) so he must know how far you have come to watch the game.

"i'll take you home." he tucks his hands inside the pockets of his grey sweatpants and begins to stride. however, you remain still on your spot and he notices.

it's not that you don't trust him... no, actually you don't. it may sound funny coming from his fan but you have zero knowledge about his personal life. outside being a pro volleyball player, he is a stranger to you. this could be a moment you will never forget either because you had a great time or the complete opposite. there is a reason why people advise to never meet your idol. you might find yourself agreeing to the saying.

when he notices your delay, he pulls out a leather wallet from his pants. he shuffles through the pockets before taking out a laminated identification card.

"hold on to it if you don't trust me."

your eyes scan the i.d. sakusa kiyoomi. march 20, 1996. black hair. black eyes. 189 cm. you can't believe that between your hands is your idol's government i.d.. observing the object in your hand, your eyes catch a badly taken photo of him pictured at the right side of the card. it's a fact that he's beyond ethereal but this... not even someone like sakusa kiyoomi can escape the horrible quality of an oustretched identification card photo.

your eyes rally from the photo on the card and to his face, obviously comparing his actual face and the one on the picture. sakusa's realizes what you had seen.

"stop looking at my photo." he lightly smacks your hand down to cover his face. "are you coming or not?" he snaps.

you tail behind him, hand clutching onto his i.d. like it's an object worth of gold. he takes out a key to his car then presses a button that made the luxury car that was once hiding behind the moonlight outshines the full moon. the low click resonates, unlocking the doors. his car is worth thrice as your annual salary. he opens the door for you and waits for you to get in before shutting it close.

instantly, a fragrant musk mixed with soap and light perfume pangs your nose. it slams right into your nasal and down to your lungs. all you could sense is the clean air inside his car. you bet your all your credits worth that the air inside the vehicle is cleaner than your bedroom.

rumors about him are true. this man loves to keep his things neat and organized, which reminds you to keep a persona close to his liking. when he pulls the door to the driver's seat open, you immediately keep your knees together, ankles aligned, and your hands to your thighs. he briefly glances at you, fingers brushing the strands of his damped hair before pressing the ignition button.

the car rumbles in a low vibrato like a beast emerging from a deep cave, slealthily yet cunning. now you understand the difference between a luxury and an ordinary car. yours rumbles like it's its last day to hit the road.

you're already whipped beyond saving for sakusa to begin with but watching him operate his high technology car makes him even more attractive. let alone if he wears a suit and tie, driving one hand on the steering wheel, brows pressed together and-

"i said, your address." he asks as you blink rapidly back at him.

fuck, you were daydreaming this whole time? did he asked you twice? what the fuck were you thinking? keep it together, (y/n).

"oh, uh, right. 34 Ilmare building, Kunitachi." you swallow down your composure. you watch his long boney fingers type in your address on a screen attached to the front dash. "sorry, i was spacing out."

"figured." he responds without missing a beat. his comment is like a stab in your chest. he knows you were out of your wits moments ago.

minus 10 points on impressing him.

the female voice coming from the system of the car echoes. it informs the driver about the location with a brief information about road blocks and minor traffic. sakusa maneuvers the car to a reverse. he puts his hand on the back of your seat as he looks over his shoulder. his other hand grips on the steering wheel as he positions the car to exit. even with the mask covering half of his face, you could clearly see the prominent lines on his jaw. its even more beguiling up close than just zooming it in on your phone. once on the road, the space you shared falls into silence. sure, there is soft music playing in the background but it is not enough to fill the space. of course, you cannot keep your mouth shut.

"congrats on winning." the stoplight switches to red.

"thanks." he doesn't leave room for small talks and now you're once again trapped into silence.

actually, you're not.

"the winning point spiked by hinata made the crowd go wild. heck, i was up on my feet." you want to bite your tongue down to prevent yourself from talking. sakusa may not want to converse with you and you're just making a fool of yourself by starting a conversation with a brick wall.

"outside hitter fan? thought you're one of miya's." he says suddenly. the stoplight turns green.

"do i look a miya fan? does miya fans have a certain characteristic?" you are amused by his assumption. your body slightly angles towards his direction.

"no. just assumed you're a fan of him since he's got a ton." his free hand skillfully unhooks the strings latched around the shell of his ears before tossing it on the backseat. his fingers rakes through hair once more, letting the wavy strands brush against the top of his forehead making your eyes draw to the beauty mark above his eyebrow. then, he runs his fingers through the neckline of his white shirt as he pulls it loose.

"nope." you swallow thickly, feeling guilty for watching him. "he's a great setter but his serving technique, the one he does to silence the crowd is a bit...weird to me. but he scores points through it so i think that's fine, i guess."

your eyes round when realization sinks in.

did you just insulted his teammate?? what happened to impressing the sakusa kiyoomi? how could you do everything you're not supposed to do?? what the heck??

"exactly what i said to him." he lets out an airy laugh.

oh.

"so, hinata or bokuto" sakusa runs his tongue over his bottom lip. "i'll let them know i drove their fan home. i want them pissed off first thing in the morning. they love fan service." he chuckles to himself.

is this why they say to never meet your idol? is this the "other" or "dark side" of him that you are supposed to hate? because clearly with the way the corners of your lips pulled up, you are enjoying his humor. this is not supposed to happen.

"why do you assume it's them? you literally have people praising your picture." you whisper to yourself. you can't believe that sakusa thinks that he has zero admirers when in fact, the social media alone is flooding with men and women, volleyball league fans or not, oggling at his mere presence. a shot of him mid-air about to spike a ball once trended on twitter after five minutes of its release.

you tear your eyes away from him, pouting at his oblivion, and draw it forward where your attention lands on a familiar figure.

"hey! is that a voltes five miniature robot?" you point at the small robot planted on the dashboard. it shines in bright tones, making it apparent that the small figurine is made from pure metal.

"yeah." sakusa glances at where you pointing.

"no shit! and the model is curated from the original version!"

"how did you know?"

"how could i not know?!" you inch closer to the figurine, missing the small tug on sakusa's mouth when he sees your eyes sprakled in excitement. "how did you get your hands on this? i heard that it's difficult to see these in stores nowadays. only collectors have them."

"i knew a collector back then but i didn't have enough money to buy it. when i won my first official match as a pro player, i knew i have to get this."

"that's awesome!" you sit back in the seat, stretching your legs in a comfortable manner. you unconsciously loose all the tension in your muscles as you let go of you true self; your persona and goal to impress him, long forgotten.

"have you heard of the newest version of voltes five? it's a remake but in a form of a movie. i heard it's got an updated tech showing all the cool effects and all that. oh, look! it's there on the billboard!" you point at the huge advertisement board featuring the movie. sakusa ducks his head forward to read the sign before pulling his eyes back on the road. "it's showing this week but i bet nothing will top the 1977 version."

when you were about to worry on his lack of response, he remarks.

"1977 to 1978, golden era."

"are you an original version fan too?!" you turn to face him and this time he fails to stop a growing smile. his fingers drum on the steering wheel as zest builds inside him.

"yeah."

"finally! someone with a taste! were you ever called a freak for liking the original version too?!"

"everytime." events of komori, his cousin, teasing him for liking a show that's beyond his age crosses his mind. komori fancied the newer series, one that has great effects and updated styles. on the other hand, sakusa remained an old soul. growing up, he had few kids in his age who have the similar taste as him. this is the reason why he struggled to connect with his peers and became comfortable in his own bubble.

except for tonight as he finally feels connected to someone, a person he ironically do not know.

"tatoe arashi ga hukou tomo..." you sing to yourself the first line of the theme song while looking at the window. he catches you off guard when he continues to sing the song in a rather shy and quiet voice.

"...tatoe oonami areru tomo." your vision flew to him. face splitting into half as you grin wide at him like a kid.

"kogidasou tataki no umi he..." you pause, waiting for him to continue the song but he keeps his mouth into a thin line as struggles to fight a smile. "come on! sing with me!" you urge him with an upbeat tone.

"no." he shakes his head. the muscles around his mouth stiffens as he wrestles to keep a straight face.

"i already heard you sing! it's just the two of us freaks here so what's stopping you?!" you gleefully push him to continue singing.

"no!" right then, he bursts into a laugh.

you have been his fan for the longest time but you have never saw him laugh this carelessly beforeㅡnot on interviews, practice games, or behind the scenes. it is a sight no one in the volleyball league has seen. and it's all because of an iconic show from ages ago.

"we need to play it. you are not dropping me off at my place without us singing the entire theme song." you take your phone out from your bag as you scroll through your playlist.

"connect it to bluetooth." sakusa sets the touchscreen monitor on his dash, and you take this as a chance to jest. your eyes rallying from the monitor and to his face.

"what?" sakusa notices the look on your face. he claws on his lips to hide a smile.

"and you told me you didn't want to sing? how pretentious can you be!" you playfully call him out, thus earning another heartful laugh from him.

"no, you sing and i play the song." he argues.

"no, no, no. i am the dj here, alright? you follow me. we both sing it together."

when the theme song blasts through the speakers of his car, it took sakusa thirty seconds into the song before he finally caved in. he sings with you like nobody else was in the room. he was clearly enjoying himself and it was an image you can never forget.

soon, reality dips in. he pulls over in front of your apartment before switching the lock off. you step out from the car but as soon as you close the door, the window rolls down.

"thank you. here's your i.d., by the way." you duck your head down to level his gaze. he takes the card from your hand.

"i never got your name." he let his gaze linger at you for a moment before shooting you a small smile.

"(y/n)." you smile back.

"(y/n)." he repeats it, letting his tongue be familiarized with the syllables of your name. he continues, "it was nice meeting you, (y/n)."

"it was a fun ride."

just when you were about to leave, a thought crosses your mind. you have to clear things up before the night ends.

"there is no need tell hinata or bokuto about driving home their fan."

"hm?" he tilts his head to the side, confused.

"i've got my eyes on outside spiker number 15, not on them." a faint blush colors his cheeks as it sinks in. fifteen is his jersey number. without waiting for his reply, you bid him goodnight.

"goodnight, sakusa-san. drive home safely."

BONUS!!

it's been three days since sakusa drove you home. currently, just like any other day, he's at the gym honing his skills in volleyball with the rest of the black jackals.

however, during the break a staff calls for him.

"your food is here." the staff holds a bento in his hand as he walks towards the pro player.

"i didn't book a delivery." he wipes a sweat on his forehead. the three: hinata, miya, and bokuto are secretly following him to eavesdrop.

"the sender's name is "(y/n)"." when the three hears a woman's name they synchronously tease the spiker.

"oooohhhhh who is she?" miya wriggles his brows.

"an admirer? a fan? or are you dating?" hinata adds.

"this is news! i gotta tell akaashi." and bokuto is on his way to dial akaashi's number.

sakusa curses at the three as he takes the bento from the person. he goes to a corner where there are signs of an orange-headed, a clone of an onigiri chef, and an owl. he then opens the cloth wrapped around the container and see a paper taped on the surface of the box.

"i got my car! as a thank you gift, i made you a bento. i cooked it myself so i hope it's not that bad. also, i hope you're not on a strict diet! thanks again!

ps: i watched the newest voltes v movie and i am confident to say that the original version is still the best!!

-(y/n)"

sakusa foolishly smiles as he reads the short note for the second time. heart swelling with memories of a long drive. he is in a strict diet but that won't stop him from eating your homecooked meal.

note: voltes v (five) is a japanese show that took asia by storm and tons of remakes were made after its release.

a/n: i hc sakusa as the type to have childhood fixations who tends to collect figurines and toys he couldn't afford when he was young. he may be a stoic cranky boy but i think his inner child has the potential to be loud and showy once paired with someone he's comfortable with.

anyway, i hope you guys enjoyed this short brainrot. i just thought it will be cute to portray a child-like sakusa in contrast to his usual indifferent character :) as usual likes and rbs are very much appreciated!!

masterlist | hq.list | nsfw acc: @taekozuyang

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narrowtriangle33-blog · 3 years ago

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Conservatives, even when all of the facts are in your face, you still deny the reality of systemic racism.

"I mean really? What in the hell makes a group of people with a history of enslavement , genocide and apartheid in order to achieve what they have belive they have been so sucessful that they can lecture others. Without enslavement, genocide and aparthied, whites in America would have very little, if anything." "People in this forum have the opinion that blacks should do things like whites and if we do so, we can make it in America. So then what we need to do is orchestate a bloody coup, confiscate all property owned by whites, jail all whites who oppose the coup, write a new constitution that declare citizenship and it's protection only for non whites, make whites chattel for the forseeable future, make it illegal for whites to reald, own property or access information and create laws where if whites get out of line they can be beaten and killed." "Because this is how whites have done it." "In another forum, I stated that the root cause of the problems blacks face is white racism. One of the whites there decided to say this: “The root cause of the problems faced by most blacks today are people like you who misidentify or ignore the real problems they face to further their own personal agendas.”" "'This is another of the long, long line of idiotic comments made by right wing whites. White racism was determined to be the problem 53 years ago by the Kerner Commission."

""What white Americans have never fully understood but what the Negro can never forget--is that white society is deeply implicated in the ghetto. White institutions created it, white institutions maintain it, and white society condones it."" ""White racism is essentially responsible for the explosive mixture which has been accumulating in our cities since the end of World War II."" "But the excuse will be made about how that was 50 years ago, and that stupid ass song will be sung titled, "That was in the Past."" "On February 26, 2018, 50 years after the Kerner Commission findings, the Economic Policy Institute published a report evaluating the progress of the black community since the Kerner Report was released. It was based on a study done by the Economic Policy Institute that compared the progress of the black community in 2018 with the condition of the black community at the time of the Kerner Commission. Titled “50 years after the Kerner Commission,” the study concluded that there had been some improvements in the situation blacks faced but there were still disadvantages blacks faced that were based on race." "Following up on this, Richard Rothstein of the Economic Policy Institute wrote an op-ed published in the February 28th edition of the New York Daily News titled, “50 years after the Kerner Commission, minimal racial progress.” It had been 50 years since the commission made their recommendations at that point, yet Rothstein makes this statement: “So little has changed since 1968 that the report remains worth reading as a near-contemporary description of racial inequality.”" "So 3 years ago the same conclusion was made. "The root cause of the problems blacks face is white racism."" "On October 24, 2013, the Kellogg Foundation sent out a press release about a report they had done entitled, “The Business Case for Racial Equity”. This was a study done by the Kellogg Foundation, using information it had studied and assessed from the Center for American Progress, National Urban League Policy Institute, Joint Center for Political and Economic Studies and the U.S. Department of Justice."

“Striving for racial equity – a world where race is no longer a factor in the distribution of opportunity – is a matter of social justice. But moving toward racial equity can generate significant economic returns as well. When people face barriers to achieving their full potential, the loss of talent, creativity, energy, and productivity is a burden not only for those disadvantaged, but for communities, businesses, governments, and the economy as a whole. Initial research on the magnitude of this burden in the United States (U.S.), as highlighted in this brief, reveals impacts in the trillions of dollars in lost earnings, avoidable public expenditures, and lost economic output.” "The Kellogg Foundation and Altarum Institute In 2011, DEMOS did a study named “The Racial Wealth Gap, Why Policy Matters”, which discussed the racial wealth gap, the problems associated with it along with solutions and outcomes if the gap did not exist. In this study DEMOS determined that the racial wealth gap was primarily driven by policy decisions." "“The U.S. racial wealth gap is substantial and is driven by public policy decisions. According to our analysis of the SIPP data, in 2011 the median white household had $111,146 in wealth holdings, compared to just $7,113 for the median Black household and $8,348 for the median Latino household. From the continuing impact of redlining on American homeownership to the retreat from desegregation in public education, public policy has shaped these disparities, leaving them impossible to overcome without racially-aware policy change.”" Harvard. "“Racial inequality in the United States today may, ultimately, be based on slavery, but it is also based on the failure of the country to take effective steps since slavery to undermine the structural racial inequality that slavery put in place. From the latter part of the nineteenth century through the first half of the twentieth century, the Jim Crow system continued to keep Blacks “in their place,” and even during and after the civil rights era no policies were adopted to dismantle the racial hierarchy that already existed.”" "HOUSING DISCRIMINATION AS A BASIS FOR BLACK REPARATIONS, Jonathan Kaplan and Andrew Valls, Public Affairs Quarterly" "Volume 21, Number 3, July 2007" "McKinsey and Co. “It will end up costing the U.S. economy as much as $1 trillion between now and 2028 for the nation to maintain its longstanding black-white racial wealth gap, according to a report released this month from the global consultancy firm McKinsey & Company. That will be roughly 4 percent of the United States GDP in 2028—just the conservative view, assuming that the wealth growth rates of African Americans will outpace white wealth growth at its current clip of 3 percent to .8 percent annually, said McKinsey. If the gap widens, however, with white wealth growing at a faster rate than black wealth instead, it could end up costing the U.S. $1.5 trillion or 6 percent of GDP according to the firm.”" "Citigroup" "Cost Of Racism: U.S. Economy Lost $16 Trillion Because Of Discrimination, Bank Says" "Nationwide protests have cast a spotlight on racism and inequality in the United States. Now a major bank has put a price tag on how much the economy has lost as a result of discrimination against African Americans: $16 trillion." "Since 2000, U.S. gross domestic product lost that much as a result of discriminatory practices in a range of areas, including in education and access to business loans, according to a new study by Citigroup." "Specifically, the study came up with $16 trillion in lost GDP by noting four key racial gaps between African Americans and whites:" "$13 trillion lost in potential business revenue because of discriminatory lending to African American entrepreneurs, with an estimated 6.1 million jobs not generated as a result" "$2.7 trillion in income lost because of disparities in wages suffered by African Americans" "$218 billion lost over the past two decades because of discrimination in providing housing credit" "And $90 billion to $113 billion

in lifetime income lost from discrimination in accessing higher education" "Why this is just a bunch of liberal jibberish to to blacks in order to keep them voting democrat. Those aren't the problems, what we conservatives tell you is the real problem. Why if you just had a father in the home none of this would happen." "Black Workers Still Earn Less than Their White Counterparts"

"As employers in the U.S. tackle issues around racism, fresh attention is being given to the racial wage gap and why black men and women, in particular, still earn substantially less than their white counterparts. Nearly 56 years after the passage of the Civil Rights Act, "we find equal pay for equal work is still not a reality," noted Jackson Gruver, a data analyst at compensation data and software firm PayScale."

"Last year, PayScale analyzed differences in earnings between white men and men of color using data from a sample of 1.8 million employees surveyed between January 2017 and February 2019." 'Among the findings, Gruver reported: "Even as black or African-American men climb the corporate ladder, they still make less than equally qualified white men. They are the only racial/ethnic group that does not achieve pay parity with white men at some level."' "The study found that black men had the largest "uncontrolled pay gap" relative to white men, when comparing the average earnings of black men and white men in the U.S."

"On average, black men earned 87 cents for every dollar a white man earned. Hispanic workers had the next largest gap, earning 91 cents for every dollar earned by white men."

"To put that in perspective, the median salary of a white man in our sample is $72,900; the controlled median pay for black or African-American men is thus $71,500," Gruver said. "This suggests a $1,400 difference in pay that is likely attributable to race."" "So daddy lives at home and the family still makes less than whites. Because:" "NWLC calculations, based on the U.S. Census Bureau's Current Population Survey for 2016, revealed that when comparing all men and women who work full time, year-round in the U.S., women were paid just 80 cents for every dollar paid to their male counterparts. But the wage gap was even larger when looking specifically at black women who work full time, year-round—they were paid only 63 cents for every dollar paid to white, non-Hispanic men." "Stephen Miller, Black Workers Still Earn Less than Their White Counterparts, www.shrm.org/resourcesandtools/hr-topics/compensation/pages/racial-wage-gaps-persistence-poses-challenge.aspx" "So a white working couple will make 90 cents on every dollar while a black working couple makes 75 cents. To allow you to understand this reality a white female worker makes 80 cents on every dollar a white man makes. White females are demanding equal pay and rightfully so." "And you black folk really need to start taking education seriously." "Black unemployment is significantly higher than white unemployment regardless of educational attainment" "The black unemployment rate is nearly or more than twice the white unemployment rate regardless of educational attainment. It is, and always has been, about twice the white unemployment rate; however, the depth of this racial inequality in the labor market rarely makes the headlines." "Over the last 12 months, the average unemployment rate for black college graduates has been 4.1 percent—nearly two times the average unemployment rate for white college graduates (2.4 percent) and equivalent to the unemployment rate of whites with an associate’s degree or who have not completed college (4.0 percent). The largest disparity is seen among those with less than a high school diploma: while whites with less than a high school diploma have an unemployment rate of 6.9 percent, the black unemployment rate is 16.6 percent—over two times the white average." "The broader significance of this disparity suggests a race penalty whereby blacks at each level of education have unemployment rates that are the same as or higher than less educated whites." "Valerie Wilson, Black unemployment is significantly higher than white unemployment regardless of educational attainment, www.epi.org/publication/black-unemployment-educational-attainment/" "African Americans are paid less than whites at every education level" "While the economy continues to improve and wages are finally beginning to inch up for most Americans, African Americans are still being paid less than whites at every education level. As you can see from the chart below, while a college education results in higher wages—both for whites and blacks—it does not eliminate the black-white wage gap. African Americans are still earning less than whites at every level of educational attainment. A recent EPI report, Black-white wage gaps expand with rising wage inequality, shows that this gap persists even after controlling for years of experience, region of the country, and whether one lives in an urban or rural area. In fact, since 1979, the gaps between black and white workers have grown the most among workers with a bachelor’s degree or higher—the most educated workers." "Valerie Wilson, African Americans are paid less than whites at every education level, www.epi.org/publication/african-americans-are-paid-less-than-whites-at-every-education-level/"

"But to say white racism is the cause of things no matter how much proof we show your white asses, you have some kind of idiotic ass excuse, like we are blaming whites for our failures or;" "We misdiagnose and ignore the "real" problem to fit an imaginary agenda racists in tha white community invented so they can deny how THEY are the root cause of the problem." "You right wing scrubs are always talking about responsibility." "Take some instead of running your mouths."

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mickey-henry · 4 years ago

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𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐈 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝

pairing: bucky barnes (bookstore au) x reader

summary: eager to escape the heat, you find yourself in the presence of a mesmerizing bookstore and an irresistibly beautiful man.

word count: 2.3K

author’s note: hello! welcome to my third fic😊 I’m eager to share this with you all! I now have a taglist (the link is also in my bio) if you’re interested🥰 thank you to @certainaesthetic for helping me workshop this idea, @fuckandfluff for the grammar help, and @midnightf for hyping me up as I wrote it! likes, reblogs, messages, replies, and comments are cherished! the header images are from pinterest and the divider is from here. I hope you like it! 💖

You’re desperate to escape the smoldering heat. It’s too hot to rest in the car; it’s been baking all day beneath the sweltering summer sun, parked just outside your place of work. If you attempt to sit in it now, you’d only be greeted with a wave of torrid air, stung with the touch of your seatbelt, and burnt from the searing leather of your steering wheel.

You’re off from work earlier than usual—the blinding sun is usually long beneath the horizon before you head home for the day. The pathetically small sun visor does nothing to shade your eyes from the blazing sunlight. Rather than driving half-blind, you decide to wait out the setting sun.

As you ponder how to spend the rest of your afternoon, you realize that now is an opportune time to visit the new bookstore, The Book Haven, that opened last month. After changing out of your uniform and throwing your work stuff in the trunk, you walk across the plaza to the shop entrance.

The bookstore greets you with the chime of a bell and a rush of cool air as you step in, a blissful contrast to the scorching outdoors. The welcoming scent of coffee grounds and the tangy aroma of old books accompany the refreshing breeze. You take a deep breath, appreciating the convivial atmosphere. The bookstore is a sublime sight; words almost can’t describe its charm.

Shelves like skyscrapers—stuffed to the brim with books, magazines, and comics—graze the ceiling. An intimate reading nook lies next to the door; an inviting window seat dwells beside a floor-to-ceiling window. Clear mosaic window clings cover the glass, casting beautiful rainbows throughout the store. Stringed vintage light bulbs illuminate the shelves; candle-lit sconces adorn the top corners of each one. Oriental rugs lay between the shelves, covering a dark mocha floor. Tucked in the back of the store is a small coffee cranny, hidden at first glance. Frank Sinatra’s charming, rich vocals travel through the air, tickling your ears. The owner clearly put the utmost time, energy, and love into the creation of their shop. It is unequivocally perfect and already one of your favorite places.

You wander to the classics section, enthralled by the exquisite covers. Sensing someone nearby, your eyes glance at movement caught in the corner of your eye. Your stomach somersaults at the stunning stranger. The instant you lay your eyes on him, you forget to breathe for a moment—your breath engulfs your throat. You’re astounded by the Adonis of a man before you.

Bristles of scruff grace his defined jawline—his low man-bun neatly styles his dark chestnut hair. A grey short-sleeve button-up shirt hugs his toned arms; a white tank top clings to his lean, fit frame; cuffed slim-fit khaki pants, help up by a bronze braided belt, embrace his thick thighs; and weathered, chunky brown leather shoes don his feet.

Through the rose-colored glasses that surround your heart, your soul imagines a life with a perfect stranger. The hopeless romantic in you can’t help but steal glances, hoping to catch a better glimpse of him. The moment he turns to walk away, your heart sinks to your stomach. You hope this isn’t the last time you see this gorgeous man.

A few minutes later, you’re mulling over a collectible edition of The Catcher in the Rye, attempting to justify purchasing yet another copy of your favorite book. A melodic voice interrupts your pondering. “That’s a pretty edition of The Catcher in the Rye you’ve got there.”

You turn towards the charming voice. Lo-and-behold, it’s the love of your life: the handsome stranger you’ve mentally lived a lifetime with. His beauty is even more profound up close: now you can see that his eyes are a lovely shade of blue. His eyes, haunted by a subtle sadness, draw you in, unlike anything you’ve experienced before. You find yourself entranced in his sea-blue current; you could easily drown in his gaze. You attempt to hide your awestruck expression and converse with him like a normal human being. “I agree! I already own a copy though, do I really need a new one?”

“I think we both know the answer is always yes,” he assures.

“Okay, you’ve convinced me. I'll get it! Thank you for justifying my unnecessary purchase.”

Your words hang in the air, everything going quiet as you wait for the ravishing stranger to introduce himself. The two of you stare in silence at each other, the tension thickening as the seconds pass by. After a few moments, his face flashes in realization—you were waiting for his name.

“I’m Bucky,” he offers with an enchanting smile, extending his hand out to you. You share your name as the two of you shake hands. Your eyes stare down his veiny arm to his ring-studded fingers grasped around yours. You allow yourself to imagine for a few moments how amazing those fingers would feel tracing your arms, tangling your hair, and teasing your inner thigh. Your lustful reverie comes to an abrupt halt at the sight of the book nestled inside the crook of his elbow: The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka, the bane of your existence. You scoff with furrowed brows; of course, Mr. Handsome Stranger would be interested in the one book you despise.

“Got something to say there, sweetheart?” he questions with an amused grin.

“Out of all the classic novels in this entire store, that’s the one you chose? The Metamorphosis?”

“What’s wrong with this one?” he jives.

You pause for a second, debating whether it’s worth it to argue with a stranger. The pondering lasts only a few seconds; the exhaustion from your day disintegrates your filter. Besides, you loathe The Metamorphosis.

“What isn’t wrong with it? The dude wakes up thinking he’s an insect? The reader has to sit there throughout the entire book, wondering whether he’s a man or a bug? What the actual fuck? I didn’t appreciate the existential crisis that book gave me at fifteen; if I can help someone else avoid the suffering caused by that monstrosity, I'm going to do my part,” you huff, unamused by the joy Bucky seems to gain from your zealous analysis.

“Wow, what a passionate review! Perez Hilton would be envious of your slander. Okay then, what classic would you recommend instead?”

You cross your arms, expecting him to challenge your response. “The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde.”

“That’s a play,” he counters.

“It’s published as a book; it counts! It’s witty, playful, and has a happy ending, which is the most important point of all. It also doesn’t make you want to pull a Fahrenheit 451 and burn every copy in existence,” you attest.

He steps closer to you, tucking loose strands of his hair behind his ear. “Life doesn’t always have a happy ending, sweetheart.”

Great, there he goes again with that freaking pet name; it’s going to be the death of you. He knows your name, you just gave it to him, yet here he is, infuriatingly insisting on calling you sweetheart instead. Stupid pretty boy with his ocean blue eyes and amorous smile.

“That’s exactly the point,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “So, why would I want to read something that doesn’t end well? If I’m going to escape this reality for a while, it better be for a happier one.”

“And if it's not?”

“Then I’ll throw the book across the room and make up my own happy ending!”

“Ooh, aggressive,” he tuts. “The owner of this place might not be too happy with you if you’re throwing books all over the place; it’ll scare away the customers.”

“Then it’s a good thing the owner isn’t here,” you interject confidently, knowing full well you have no idea who the owner is.

“Well, that just isn’t true, sweetheart. You’re looking right at him.”

He’s lying—he has to be. Why would a dreamboat like Bucky own a bookstore?

You scoff, “you’re not the owner of this place.”

“I’m not? What makes you say that?” he banters.

“People like you don’t own bookstores!” you exclaim.

“People like me?” he goads, cocking his head to the side. The action erupts butterflies in your stomach.

“Attractive people!” you groan.

“So you think I’m attractive?” he plays, stepping to close the gap between you.

“Psh, no, you wish,” you muster. The heat spreading across your cheeks betrays your bluff.

There are mere inches between the both of you now; you hope he can’t hear your racing heartbeat. You watch his eyes go down from yours to your mouth and back up again. He eyes you with a smirk, his teeth playfully tugging his bottom lip. It takes everything in your power not to give in to his spell.

“I’ve known you for what, five minutes? I don’t go around kissing strangers, Bucky,” you falter, taking a step back from his closeness.

“Then let’s not be strangers, sweetheart. Grab a coffee with me; I know a nice place, not far from here,” he flirts, gesturing to the counter at the back of the store.

“Let me learn more about what goes on in that pretty little head of yours,” he purrs, his breath tickling your cheek.

“Okay, fine. I’ll have a coffee with you,” you surrender.

A bright, honeyed smile dons his face.

“It better be good, though. Not the stale crap you usually get in the middle of the afternoon.”

“I’d only give you the best, sweetheart,” he winks, extending his right hand. You take it; he gives you a soft squeeze before weaving you through the towering shelves.

Your discussion continues with another passionate book review as he prepares your drink. He’s a sucker for gritty dystopian novels while you gravitate towards sappy romances. He shares his passion for painting as he guides you to the reading nook. The artwork hung on the edges of the bookcases is crafted by him—a detail you hadn’t noticed at first glance. His stunning work features both landscapes and people. He loves to sit in a picturesque landscape and paint for endless hours. Occasionally, he takes his old polaroid as he explores the town, snapping moments between strangers, translating their intimacy to canvas when he gets home.

He gestures for you to take a seat in the reading nook before handing you our steaming cup of joe. You sit with your legs crossed, your hands hugging the mug in your lap. Bucky sits with his leg draped over the side of the bench, his left foot pressing into his right thigh. The conversation shifts topics; the two of you divulge your desires and unfulfilled ambitions. You aren’t sure if it’s the look in his eyes, the sweet cup of joe in your palms, or the aroma of coffee surrounding you, but in his presence, your senses feel wide awake.

Before you know it, the mesmeric moon replaces the sizzling sun, melting away the blistering heat, and the steaming cup of coffee in your hands has long chilled. Bucky’s employee interrupts the blissful rendezvous, informing him that all the closing duties are complete, and he’s headed home for the night.

You stare at your watch in shock—it's five past nine. Where did the time go? You apologize profusely to the poor kid who had to close up alone; he assures you it’s no problem.

A melancholic pit in your stomach forms as you turn back to Bucky. He’s nestled himself into your soul; you don’t want to say farewell to him so soon. He has a sad glint in his eyes; you hope it’s because he’s also dreading the end of this perfect night.

“Can I walk you to your car?” he asks timidly, his earlier suave demeanor gone from his voice. He stands up in front of you, offering his arm to escort you.

“I’d love that,” you reply with a shy grin, grabbing his arm and hugging it tightly.

In the blink of an eye, you’re in front of your car. You let go of his arm and lean against the trunk. You stare into his eyes, hoping that he can see without the use of words how much you don’t want this moment to end. There’s a few moments of painful silence before Bucky clears his throat.

“So, now that we’re not total strangers, how about that kiss?” he flirts with pleading eyes.

“Okay,” you reply with a bashful smile.

He slowly reaches his hand towards your cheek, softly stroking it with his thumb. He presses his forehead against yours. “Are you sure you want to do this? ‘Cause if we do, you might not be able to get rid of me, sweetheart.”

“Yes I do, Bucky,” you giggle.

He grins as he gently presses his pillowy pink lips on yours. The kiss steals all the air from your lungs—his touch sends tingles throughout your body, electrifying your veins. You’re breathless when your lips finally part.

“Let me get your number before I let you go,” Bucky insists. You nod and hand him your phone, unable to form a coherent thought. The ghost of his lips and fingers trace your figure. You’re barely acquainted with his tender touch, yet you feel naked without it, yearning to once again be within his grasp.

You exchange phones—adding your number and name with a sparkling heart emoji and swiftly passing his phone back before you can change your mind. Bucky snaps a quick selfie for his contact, smirking for the camera. You grin when you see he also put emojis by his name: a beetle and a kissy-face.

He pecks your cheek before opening the car door for you. “Hope to see you around, lovebug.” The new pet name burns your cheeks and erupts butterflies in your stomach.

He doesn’t leave the parking lot until your car disappears completely from his view.

You drive home with thoughts of Bucky swirling in your mind. You send a silent thanks to the universe for bringing this beautiful man into your life. His voice, touch, and smile echo in your thoughts for the remainder of the evening—his presence paving its way through your dreams. You’re falling hard and fast; you only hope he’ll be there to catch you.

tagging a few mutuals who expressed interest in this story🥰please fill out the taglist form if you’d like to be tagged in the next story! 💖

@ritesofreverie @midnightf @certainaesthetic

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes #mickey-henry #my fic: you're the best book I ever read #mel's writing

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portaltothevoid · 2 years ago

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A Very Kat Ramsay Christmas Special - Part Two - eddie munson x ofc

Summary: Kat and Eddie jet set to their vacation spot where they attend the concert of a lifetime. (A playlist of the show’s actual setlist can be found here!)

Warnings: fluff, metal, anxiety, self-consciousness, drinking, smoking mentioned

Word count: 5.8k

Taglist: @munchabunch @madaboutmunson @riffcrusader @michele131 @idiot-parade

A/N: We’re setting up the scene to begin writing Kat into season four’s events! Polaroids of Eddie in the photo above were done by the amazing @eddieonfilm! Please go check out their incredible work. Pacifica polaroid was edited by me and the original photo was taken during my trip there last March. All other photos were found on google. Collage was also put together by yours truly. Comments make my heart sing. I’d love to know everyone’s thoughts! As always, your likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated.

Eddie sat in his seat tightening and untightening his grip on the armrests on either side of his seat. When Kat casted a concerned glance at him, he crossed his arms. The restless energy transferred to his leg which would not stay still. His left hand was tapping his side as if his ribcage turned into an instrument.

“Make sure your seatbelts are fastened… Can you buckle your seatbelt, sir? … Keep those trays up until we’re in the air, ma’am.” The stewardess was saying as she walked up the aisle of the plane, doing her last check on all the passengers before take off. “Tighten those seatbelts.” She said to the people across from Eddie and Kat.

“Pft. Like that’s gonna help when you’re plummeting to your death.” Eddie said with a dramatic eye roll and talking with his left hand waving about.

Kat slowly turned her head to suspiciously look at Eddie as he was still continuously tapping away. “Are you…afraid of flying? Is that why you’ve been snippy all day?”

“No. I just want to be there already,” he snapped.

Kat simply raised her eyebrows and nodded. She knew to leave well enough alone at this point. He couldn’t bear to admit to her outloud that he was, in fact, terrified of flying. Granted, he never had a reason to fly anywhere before. If he was going somewhere far away for a show or something, he would always drive. Never had he even thought he would go to the other side of the country.

No sooner did the plane begin to move forward did Eddie’s hand reach for Kat’s. The moment the first wheel was off the ground, his eyes clamped shut. He had a vice grip around her hand. Kat reached forward into her purse and fished around for a water bottle. Eddie shot her a panicked look as soon as he felt her move. “Here,” she said, handing it to him.

“I don’t need water, Kat,” he spoke through his teeth.

She leaned over and whispered, “Just take a drink, trust me.” He looked at her through squinted eyes. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the water, sniffing it before he took a drink. His eyes widened. Kat just smiled. “Take a drink,” she whispered encouragingly again. Without a moment’s hesitation, he took two big swigs from it before handing it back to her. She gingerly put it back in her purse.

Taking another deep breath, he leaned his head back into the seat, and turned to look at her. “Thank you.”

“Feel better?” She asked, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“A little.”

“You did great for your first take off, really.” He stared at her, unconvinced. “I mean it! Planes are scary. If I knew how much you didn’t like it, I woulda busted out the Russian Poland Springs sooner.”

“‘Didn’t like it.’ What a nice way to put it.”

“Eddie.” She said sternly. “Everyone is afraid of something. It’s human. It’s okay. You’re not invincible. I’m not invincible. What matters is that we are already thousands of feet in the air and you’re getting through this thing that scares you.”

“So you’re saying it’s okay to be a coward sometimes?”

“No, you idiot. I’m saying that you’re brave. Don’t even bother with a counter response. And I can guarantee you aren’t the only one trying to hold themselves together right now.” Taking another deep breath, Eddie nodded.

The remainder of the flight went through fairly smoothly. There was a tiny bit of turbulence over the Rockies, which immediately sent Eddie diving into Kat’s purse. Kat pushed the armrest up in between them and scooted as close as she could to him once the bottle was back in her purse. She grabbed his hand and leaned her head on his shoulder for the rest of the plane ride.

The landing was a lot easier than the take off for Eddie. Nevertheless, he could not get off the plane fast enough. As soon as they were out of the airport, Kat breathed in the west coast air. “Welcome to California, country boy.” Kat said, nudging him. Eddie just smiled at her. Any anxiety he had over flying was now taken over by excitement.

They quickly found the car that was waiting for them. The driver took their suitcases and placed them in the trunk, while the pair climbed inside. “And where are we headed today?”

“The Palace Hotel, please,” replied Kat. Eddie just stared wide-eyed out the window, taking in all of his new surroundings.

“It’s so… foggy?” He said after a few moments.

“The Bay Area is known for its fog. It’ll probably burn off later in the day.”

When they got to the hotel, Eddie gulped as he took in the grandeur of arguably the nicest hotel in all of San Francisco. “Uh, are we really staying here?”

Kat laughed and grabbed his hand, “Come on.” She said, pulling him along as their suitcases rolled behind them. Upon greeting the concierge, they gave them both a skeptical look. Two metalheads didn’t really fit the “look” of the hotel’s typical clientele.

“Hi, I believe our reservation is under Paul Ramsay?” Kat said sweetly.

“Hm…oh yes, there’s a note here… you must be Katrina?”

“Mhmm,” she hummed with a nod.

“Of course! Alright, Ms. Ramsay, here are your room keys. If you just give your bags to William, he will assist you both to your room. Please, enjoy your stay. If there’s anything you should need, don’t hesitate to call the front desk.”

“Thank you so much!” Kat grabbed the keys off the counter and then grabbed Eddie by the hand again who was looking around the lobby, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, in absolute wonderment. Sure, he’d been to parties at some of the nicest houses in Hawkins, but never had he had a reason to be anywhere as lavish as The Palace Hotel. “Come on, country boy.” She said with a half smile as she pulled him along, tearing his gaze from the crown molded ceilings and the chandeliers that towered overhead.

The pair entered the elevator. Kat was happily humming while Eddie was fidgeting with his rings looking down. She looked over at him, knowing he couldn’t see her through his hair that acted like side blinders. Her brow furrowed when she noticed his restlessness came from nerves this time around. As she was about to open her mouth to say something, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Kat led them to their suite that they would call home for the next week.

The key easily glided into the lock, clicking as it turned. Their eyes were met with a gracious living room space. It had a couch with matching chairs, a dining table, and the biggest TV possible crowded around a fireplace. Eddie froze, his eyes darting around the room. “Uh, Kat? Where’s the, um, bed…?” He asked hesitantly.

“Over here,” she said as she went through the door to the left of the living room. This room was even more grand than the one before. Kat put her suitcase atop the king sized four poster bed. At the foot of the bed was a chaise lounge. Another armchair and table was nestled by a window. There was also another TV on the bureau across from the bed. Striding across the room, she opened the curtains of both windows taking in the view of the intersection between Market Street and Geary Street below. It had a perfect view of the city’s unique Flatiron Building. Kat smiled to herself, happy to be back in familiar territory and even happier to be able to share it with Eddie.

He stood still as a statue. Kat looked at him over her shoulder. Earlier concern from the elevator graced her features again. She walked back over to him taking his suitcase from him and placed it next to hers. He was chewing on his bottom lip and twirling his signature rings on his right hand with his thumb. Planting herself right in front of him, she took her index and middle fingers to the side of his chin, guiding his gaze to hers. “Hey, you okay?” She asked softly, letting her hand fall to his chest.

“I, uh… I…” Eddie shut his eyes tightly, inhaling sharply. He shook his head as he stepped back away from her. “Kat, I don’t belong here. I– People like me shouldn’t be here,” he mumbled. His voice was barely above a whisper.

Kat furrowed her brow again. She was not about to accept Eddie thinking he didn’t deserve this experience. Taking a step toward him, she grabbed each side of his open vest and pulled him close to her. “Now, you listen to me, Eddie Munson. You are nothing like those degenerates back in Hawkins, okay? This is something you are just going to have to get used to, because you are getting out of that stupid, backwoods town. And you belong with me. Sure, I come from a polar opposite world, but this? This is your world now as much as it’s mine. No one here knows the Munson name has a troubled past attached to it. Soon, the only thing people are gonna think of when they hear your name is rock god.” She reached up to wrap her hand around his neck to pull him into a deep kiss. It punctuated the end of her pep talk, continuing with everything else she had left unsaid. “Understand?” She asked breathlessly once they parted.

He responded by putting his forehead to hers and nodding. Taking a deep breath, he began to say, “Yeah, but it’s just–”

Kat silenced him by putting a finger to his lips. She shook her head. “No. Save it. I don’t want to hear it.” He pouted at her, his eyes pleading with her to understand. “I know it’s all new and it’s a lot to take in all at once, but you deserve it, okay?” Her fingers traced the side of his face as she moved some of his hair that had blocked his features. A hushed tone befell her voice. “You deserve this.”

Her hazel irises gazed into Eddie’s as now it was her turn to silently plead with him. She was begging him to believe her words, begging him to see himself as she saw him, even if only for a moment. With a hand on the side of her neck, he guided her up into another kiss as a way to silently tell her he understood. His other hand pressed against her shoulder, pushing her backwards. They walked together, their lips never breaking contact. When something stopped Kat’s momentum, she placed one hand behind her as the other pulled Eddie down until they collided with the opulent duvet beneath her.

—---------

In the days leading up to New Year’s Eve, Kat made sure to give Eddie the full California experience or at least, the full San Francisco experience. They took cable cars around the city, posed in front of the Golden Gate Bridge, toured Alcatraz, had fancy dinners at The Garden Court Restaurant, and hiked through the Muir Woods. The day before the big show was the one Kat was most excited for as far as touristy adventures went. She brought Eddie to a quaint, seaside town called Pacifica.

First, they walked the Pedro Point Headlands trail. Once they cleared the wooded part, the trail opened up to a beautiful cliffside overlook. The cool winter sun shone over the vast Pacific ocean. Eddie gasped as soon as he scanned the mountains that could be seen along the coast’s edge. Hawkins was nothing but flat farmland, woods, and lakes. This was like another world to him. Salt air flooded his senses. Sounds of the waves crashing below them could be heard faintly.

Kat let him take in the scenery for some time as she enjoyed feeling the sun on her face. While she had seen this view plenty of times, and although there wasn’t anything quite like it, nothing compared to watching him experience it all for the first time. Eventually she went up beside him and asked, “Are you ready to go down there?”

“Down where?”

“To the beach, dingus.” Kat laughed.

“But it’s…not really warm enough for that?”

“Eddie. You’re literally right here. I can’t allow you to be this close to the ocean without being on a real beach. Besides, it’s not like the beach cares what season it is. C’mon.” She took his hand leading him towards their next stop. “Wait. Before we do that, are you hungry?”

“Starving, actually.”

“Okay good, we’re going to my absolute favorite Taco Bell.”

“Why is this one your favorite? Aren’t they all the same?”

“This is one of the only ones that’s on the beach. Two birds, one stone.”

The duo made their way over to the beachside eatery. After enjoying their usual smorgasbord of food thanks partly to their trail smoking sessions, Kat led them both to San Pedro Beach just beyond the restaurant.

“It’s a little more active in the summer. Not that winter stops some people.” Kat said as they looked out to see a handful of dedicated surfers in wetsuits bobbing in the water waiting for the next wave. “Speaking of, shoes off.” She commanded as she began to take hers off.

“But…it’s cold?” Eddie said hesitantly.

“Hmm…and here I thought Mr. Indiana was used to the cold! I don’t see any snow, do you?” She teased. “Humor me. For five minutes. You’re here now. You gotta get the full experience.”

He gave her an unamused look as he begrudgingly did as she demanded. “Happy now?”

“Almost.” She said as she bent down and rolled up both his pant legs as far as they would go. “Okay, now I am.” A triumphant smile was plastered onto her face, before she smirked at him. She took off running towards the water.

The only thing Eddie could do was just smile to himself as he shook his head at her antics. He had way too many tacos to run after her, so he began his walk towards the water’s edge. Taking his time, he was hyper aware of his surroundings as he really tried to commit everything from this moment to memory. The sand was cool beneath him as he walked. The rolling, crashing, and pulling of the waves. A seagull cried as it flew overhead. The way Kat’s laugh carried through the wind. The way the wind made her hair dance around her face. Looking down, he saw various rocks that had been eroded from their tumultuous journey and the occasional stray pieces of driftwood. One such heart-shaped rock caught his eye. He picked it up as a memento from this moment. His first time on a proper beach with the vastness of the sea in front of him fading all the way into the horizon. The air, saltier than it was atop the cliff, filled his lungs as he took a deep breath.

Soon enough, he caught up to Kat as she was tiptoeing back and forth trying to avoid the water that teasingly threatened her. When she noticed him standing just beyond where the water could reach, she took her place at his side. His eyes were darting back and forth across the horizon when she spoke. “Isn’t it amazing? There’s just something about the ocean…” Her voice trailed off.

“Reminds you of your humanity.” He spoke softly, continuing to take it all in.

“Exactly,” she agreed.

After a brief moment, she intertwined her hand with hands and led him forward. She looked back at him expectantly. His eyes widened in warning. “You have to be able to say you touched the Pacific! I’m doing this with you, c’mon.” Her pleading was met with a reluctant sigh from Eddie.

Together they stepped where the water had just receded and awaited its return that would surround their feet. The wave crashed and the sea was pushed towards them. Eddie tightened his grip on Kat’s hand as he braced for the impending cold. When it hit, Kat yelped and he let out a “Jesus H. Christ!” before they took off running back up the shore. The brief, stinging cold was enough for both of them.

“See? Wasn’t it worth it?” Kat asked.

“My numb feet beg to differ. Do I still have all ten toes?”

“Mr. Indiana really hasn’t adjusted to the cold, has he?” She mocked in a deeper, silly voice.

“You know what? No. No I have not. You see those surfers? They have little wet suits and little shoes so they don’t feel the cold! I’d say you were trying to maim me, at the very least!”

Kat could only giggle at his theatrics. He was balancing on one leg trying to wipe the sand off him when she gave him a playful shove, trying to topple him over. Briefly he lost his balance as she attempted to flee the scene. He was too quick for her this time as he chased after her, engulfing her in a tight grip around her waist. She tried to protest through her laughter as he held onto her and lifted her off the ground, spinning both of them around. When Kat was planted firmly in the sand again, their embrace remained. Both gazing at each other as their laughter drifted away into the breeze with just big cheesy grins remaining on their faces.

Kat glanced over towards the sun that was beginning its descent. “Alright, there’s one more thing I have to show you before the sun sets. It’s a little bit of a walk, so we should get going.” He nodded.

Wiping the sand off the best they could, they put their socks and shoes back on. Kat led them up to San Pedro Ave where they followed it through to the neighborhood of Shelter Cove.

“Y’know, I really could have waited until the summer for that.” Eddie mused.

“No! How bogus would it be if you went back and told everyone ‘Yeah I went to the beach and just stared at the ocean?’” Her voice deepened again as she imitated him. “Now you have this crazy story of being dragged ankle deep into the Pacific Ocean at the end of December. You’re welcome.” She said matter of factly as they turned onto Kent Road.

“I guess when you say it like that…” His voice trailed off before he said, “It’s, like, totally radical.” Eddie said doing his best imitation of a surfer, complete with the little hand motion.

Kat stopped abruptly, sighed, and hung her head in disapproval and mock shame while Eddie kept walking. “Don’t… just…no.”

“Well, if I’m gonna become a California boy and you bring me to the beach all the time, I gotta start learning the lingo, don’t I?”

“Nope. No. Absolutely not.”

Eddie stopped and turned to pout at Kat. “But, like, it would be totally grody to the max to, like, not fit in.” He said as he trotted back over to her side, leaning into her shoulder.

Kat whipped her head towards him. “I will leave your ass in Hawkins if you keep talking like that.” Eddie raised his eyebrows and put his hands up in surrender. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She tried to keep her face stern, but as soon as they looked at eachother, they bursted out laughing.

It was then that Eddie stopped and looked up at the steep hill they had to walk up to get to wherever Kat was taking them. “We seriously gotta walk up that?”

“It’ll be worth it! I promise! Come on…” She said as she started walking, pulling Eddie by the hand. “What would Kate Bush do?”

“Who?”

“Kate Bush? ‘Running Up That Hill?’ No?” Kat sighed defeatedly and began to sing, “If I only could, I’d make a deal with God, and get him to swap our places, Be running up that road, Be running up that hill, with no problems.” Eddie just smiled at her impromptu performance. “Still no? Nothing? I’m showing you that album when we get back.” She said as she continued to lead him up the steep slope.

He took a couple extra strides to walk directly beside her. Together they trekked up the street, stretching their legs to almost ninety degree angles as they trudged up the hill. Quickly they started to lose their breath. Between the elevation and the truly lofty incline, it proved to be quite the workout.

“Kat, really?” Eddie huffed.

“S’worth it. Promise.” Kat said breathlessly.

They continued up Kent Road and turned onto Blackburn Terrace. Swinging a right, they were met with another smaller hill. This was much less steeper than the one they had just conquered, but Eddie still gave her a look that asked if she was actually serious about this as using words proved to be quite difficult.

“It’s, like, twenty steps away. Look…” She stopped to pause for a moment, continuing to catch her breath. “There’s a bench. We are going to sit.” Dramatically he rolled his eyes, but then nodded and they were off again.

Those last steps felt like the end of a marathon. Eddie was leaning over with his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath. Kat was leaning one hand on a nearby telephone pole. He looked up at Kat with an exasperated expression that quickly turned into a smile while he shook his head. “Why the hell do I feel like I’ve never gone for a long walk ever in my life?” He forced out between breaths.

“Elevation?” She huffed out with an attempt at a laugh. It took a few more moments before they could even take in the view that was laid out in front of them.

Eventually, Eddie stood up and turned to see the breathtaking sight Kat had brought him to. The sun was setting across the ocean. Small beachside cottages were seen down below near the beach. A small peninsula jutted out into the sea. Slightly far off there was an island that looked like a mini mountain. The orangy sky was dotted with wisps of clouds. Kat grabbed his hand and led him over to the bench so they could watch the changing sky.

As they sat down, she never let go of his hand and leaned her head on his shoulder. Together they basked in the glow of the setting sun and comfortable silence. Kat was first to disrupt the quiet. “So, how are you feeling?” She asked softly.

“About what?”

“This trip, my world, everything…”

He gathered his thoughts before he spoke. “It’s still… a lot. I mean, it’s overwhelming still, but in a good way. I am not used to it by any means.”

Shebumped into him lightly. “Well you better.”

“I’m not exactly talking about only the lifestyle. It’s…” His voice dropped to a whisper and he made sure to do everything he could to avoid her gaze. “I’m not used to, uh, anyone really, doing anything for me. Never mind all of this. I mean, Wayne did what he could to help me get my guitar, but… I can’t quite wrap my head around the fact that everything you’re doing is for me, y’know?”

“Well, in case you couldn’t guess, I kinda like you.”

He smiled at her words as his heart swelled. He turned slightly to face her and brushed some hair out of her face. “Yeah, well, I kinda love you,” he confessed.

“Wh-what?” Instantly she froze, completely taken aback. Her heartbeat started to race. She had no idea when they were going to exchange these inevitable words, but she certainly didn’t think it would have been right now.

“I know, I know. It’s stupid, we’re so young, and it’s not like we’ve known each other for a long time, but it’s true. It’s so true. I know it is. You’re probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” His chattering filled the space between them. Still frozen, she was just staring at him. Taking her face in his hands, he spoke with even more conviction than before, “I love you, Kat.” He was looking into her eyes as if he was searching for her response.

His hands slid to her shoulders as one of her hands reached around the back of his neck to guide him to place his forehead on hers. Her other hand wrapped around his forearm. “I love you too, Eddie,” she whispered. For just a couple of seconds she stared back into his eyes before she suddenly crawled into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. Nuzzling into him, she repeated “I love you. I love you, too.”

—-------

New Year’s Eve was never an incredibly special holiday for Kat. The excitement was never for celebrating the progress of time, but whose house in the hills would host the best bash. Its purpose was simply to go to a wild party. This time was different. This time it had meaning.

Eddie was on cloud nine. Never did he think in his lifetime he would see Megadeth and Metallica at the same show. He knew how lucky he was to be there and would forever feel indebted to Kat, in a way. They had their spot at front of house with the lighting and sound crew. As much as they loved being in the pit, being able to freely move about and easily see the whole stage was a pleasant change of pace for Eddie at least. As everyone was waiting for Metallica to hit the stage, he was already having the time of his life. Unbeknownst to him, the best was yet to come.

Meanwhile, Kat was completely in her element. Shows were the only place she ever really felt at home. She could relax, almost let her guard down while she enjoyed the music and the atmosphere of being surrounded by people who were there, because they too all loved music. The blaring instruments kept all her fears and worries at bay. Anything that haunted her in the back of her mind was silenced. Even now more so than ever, being able to experience this with Eddie by her side made her heart feel like it was about to burst with happiness and gratitude.

The lights went down. The arena erupted into cheers as Metallica took the stage. The pulsing intro of “Creeping Death” roared through the speakers. Eddie and Kat both started wildly headbanging, throwing their arms up, and completely lost themselves in the music. At times Kat busted out the old air drums, perfectly miming Lars Ulrich’s actions. Of course, Eddie was too busy with his own air guitar to take note of her drumming abilities.

Immediately after, they jumped into “Ride the Lightning” followed by “No Remorse.” When the latter song ended, Kat was beaming. She reached over to Eddie, grabbed his arm and gave him a shake, which he returned by grabbing her arms right back. His expression was of amazement and adoration. “This is fucking amazing!” He said to her.

“Time for some new fucking shit! This is the title track off the album that should be out somewhere around the time of spring, someway or another. This is the title track. It’s entitled ‘Master of Puppets.’” James Hetfield’s voice sounded over the PA system. Eddie and Kat’s eyes grew wide, their faces erupting into shock and excitement.

“Did you know!?” Eddie asked her. She just shook her head and then turned her attention towards the stage.

The opening riffs flooded everyone’s ears. Eddie could only stare ahead slack-jawed. When the drums finally picked up a steady, constant rhythm he began jamming. Kat bobbed her head along, but she was busy studying both Hetfield’s and Kirk Hammett’s guitar playing. Immediately, both of them were obsessed with this new song. During the first melodic interlude of the song, Kat could feel tears welling up in her eyes because of how much she loved it and how it just moved her. Once the heavy guitars kicked in again, she knew she had to learn this from front to back. She also felt pride enveloping her as she watched her friends absolutely kill it on stage. This was the song that was going to change everything.

“That was fucking insane.” Eddie said.

“We’re learning that. We are learning that song front to fucking back.”

The pair found the rest of the setlist to be perfect. As the clock struck midnight, kicking off 1986, balloons were released. James chugged a bottle of booze. Shortly after that, they kicked off “Fight Fire with Fire” as two roadies swan dived from the stage into the crowd. At another point, James also threw his mic stand into the crowd. Very metal.

After the band’s second encore of “Blitzkrieg,” Kat grabbed Eddie’s hand and asked, “So you wanna go to a real party?” Again, his eyes widened and while there was excitement in his face, nervousness had settled in as well. Kat laughed and tugged him along as she led him backstage.

“Kat fuckin’ Ramsay!!!” James yelled as they entered the green room.

“James fuckin’ Hetfield!!!” She responded with just as much enthusiasm as they gave each other a quick friendly hug. Kat said hello to the other members and present roadies she was familiar with.

“Hey, who’s the new guy?” Kirk asked.

“Everyone, this is Eddie Munson, future guitar legend,” introduced Kat. Eddie tried to keep from blushing.

Kirk raised an eyebrow and exchanged glances with James. “Oh, you can play? Hey, get this dude a guitar!”

“And shots!” James added. Two roadies went and grabbed some guitars, while James got everyone the aforementioned shots.

“That better be what I think it is…” Kat said.

“You know it. Bottoms up!” James said as together they all did a shot of whiskey. Eddie couldn’t help but grimace as he felt the burn in his throat.

Soon the roadies were back with four guitars. “Alright, I wanna see what you got. This girl,” Kirk thumbed towards Kat, “knows her shit when it comes to talent.”

Knowing it was one of Kat’s favorites, he began to play “Imprisoned Heart.” He started out nervous at first, but soon got lost in the music to the point where he almost forgot he was performing for one of his favorite bands. Everyone in the room was visibly surprised, not expecting this random guy to have as much talent as he did.

“What song was that?” Cliff asked astounded.

“Uh, one of my band’s originals, ‘Imprisoned Heart.’”

“What’s your band?”

“Corroded Coffin.”

“Metal.” James said, beaming. “Kat, you got our address right? I want a demo.” Eddie was in complete shock. These things never happened to someone in the Munson family. If he wasn’t worried about looking like an absolute fool, he would have asked Kat to pinch him. Kat was grinning from ear to ear.

Picking up a guitar, Kat asked, “Guys, listen, what the fuck was ‘Master of Puppets’!?”

“You liked it?!” Kirk asked excitedly.

“That was insane. You know that song is going to change everything right? You guys realize that?” She said as she tried to play the intro from memory.

“You owe me $20! I told you she was gonna love it.” Cliff said to Lars who rolled his eyes as he started to get out his wallet.

James and Kirk gave both Kat and Eddie a quick lesson on how to play the first part of the song. Their talent made it so they were able to pick it up in no time at all. At one point, James asked Kat, “Hey where have you been anyway? No one’s heard from you in months. I was shocked when they said you’d be here.”

“Ha, my darling father shipped me off to Indiana to stay with my aunt so I could finish school.”

“What the fuck? Why?”

“Too much of a wild child. Started to make him look bad.” Kat rolled her eyes.

“Shit, that’s fucking awful.”

“It was at first, but…” Kat looked over at Eddie as Kirk was teaching him the solo. She smiled to herself. “I found him, so it’s not all that bad.”

“Get him out of there as soon as you can. I really wanna hear his band.”

“That’s the plan.” Kat spoke with determination in her voice.

Everyone partied until the very early hours of the morning before her and Eddie went back to their hotel. Even though he grew more comfortable with the guys, the experience from this whole trip left him in a state of shock that wasn’t going to wear off just yet. They drunkenly said their goodbyes. James even reiterated again that he wanted to hear Corroded Coffin as a whole unit as best he could. Before they left, the tour manager was able to get them a demo tape of ‘Master of Puppets’ at Kirk’s request. He was amazed at the way Eddie was able to learn that song so quickly and wanted him to be able to practice to his heart’s content right away and not have to wait until the whole album came out in three months.

New Year’s Day was their last day in San Francisco before they headed back to Indiana. They utilized the day to nurse their hangovers and bask in the luxuries of the hotel. As they were lounging around Kat looked over at Eddie and smiled. “Happy first day of 1986,” she laughed. Eddie just raised his index fingers and circled them around. Kat nudged him playfully. “Come on, you know this is gonna be a good year. How can it not be?”

“It won’t be if I don’t graduate again for whatever reason.”

Kat rolled her eyes. “Don’t even talk like that!”

Eddie laughed. “I’m kidding. Graduating is my only option, trust me. After all this… I can’t stay in Hawkins. Not that I was going to before I met you, but especially not now.”

“Eddie, I’m telling you right now. This year? It’s going to be our year.” She stated matter of factly.

“I fucking hope you’re right.”

“I am! Come on, say it with me. Say ‘1986 is gonna be my year.’”

“Really?” He looked at her, questioning how serious she was about this.

“Yes! Wait, no, hold on.” Kat got up and left the room to scope out the mini bar. She found two tiny bottles of champagne, opened them, and poured them into glasses before bringing them back to their room. “Okay, here.” She said as she handed Eddie one. He breathed out a laugh at her shenanigans.

“Okay, fine.” He said with a smile as he took the glass.

With a clink of their glasses, “1986 is gonna be my year!” They both said in unison. While it felt like a silly thing to do, deep down Eddie could feel something was on the horizon for both of them. One thing he knew for sure, 1986 was going to be unlike any year before it.

#eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x ofc #eddie munson x reader #metallica #joseph quinn #joe quinn #Spotify

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hellion-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Surprise Conversations

Pairing: 10th Doctor x reader (intended as platonic)

Pronouns used: They/them (gender neutral reader)

Summary: When life isn’t great for you, a strange man talks to you when you’re at your lowest.

Word count: 2,345 (edited)

Warnings: Intrusive thoughts, mentions of self harm, suicidal thoughts/tendencies, self deprecation

(A/N): Wrote this as a sort of vent/comfort within the span of 3ish hours and it’s currently 6:30 in the morning. This takes place sometime between Martha and Donna. Enjoy and ignore the awful title and writing pls

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

It was always behind you, looming over your shoulder and breathing down your neck with saccharine addled air. You breathed in that oxygen against your will; sometimes that was the only way you could get through the day. Other times, it was the thing that ruined your perfect day.

It whispered in your ear whenever you made a mistake, no matter how small. It only started yelling whenever you started to decline, escalating to screaming when you were at your worst. You could swear that your eardrums were tattered beyond belief and that you could hear the remnants of the voice in the back of your mind whenever it wasn’t there, but you just chalked it up to the pains of growing up and becoming an adult.

You listened to it sometimes. You listened to it when it told you that you were a failure for getting anything besides a perfect score on a test. You listened to it when it told you that you were incapable of love when you and your childhood best friend started to drift apart. You listened to it when it told you that slashing at your skin with the razor blade you had unscrewed from a handheld pencil sharpener would solve your problems. And for the most part, you felt as if it was best that you listened to it.

There were times that you ignored it, though; this was usually whenever it’s ideas were too drastic for the situation. It called for you to jump when you came across ledges and bridges. It beckoned you towards the knife block and commanded you to stick them all in your abdomen. It wants you to jump onto the rails whenever you are boarding a train.

Ignoring it was hard, but doable when you didn’t have anything to stress out about. A couple of cuts and you’d be good to go for the day. It would be silent.

That was until things started to pile up. Bill due dates were getting closer and closer, friends were increasingly leaving, your debts were growing larger and larger, and your family was basically nonexistent in helping you with your problems. So you decided to finally give in and listen to everything the voice told you to do.

You found yourself at your favorite part of the city you lived in: the bridge overlooking the ocean. It had a perfect view of the moon and it’s beams glistening on the ever moving waves. It gave you some comfort that things would continue after you would be at your end. It was beautiful and you’d be damned if you didn’t at least have something to see before you died.

You were sitting on the ledge, feeling the salty sea breeze raise the goosebumps on your skin. Your grip on the metal bars was tight, almost as steely as the beam itself. Your feet dangled over the abyss limply.

“Hey.” A voice broke through the quiet, making you jump out of your skin and almost lose your grip on the bars. “Sorry,” they awkwardly coughed. A figure came to a seated position next to you, dragging your eyes off from the waves below.

The first thing you registered about him was the gravity-defying hair slightly being shifted by the breeze. In the back of your mind, you wondered how much gel he had to use to get it to stick up like that. The second thing you noticed was the way he looked at you. His eyes were expressive, probably more so than the average person. They were a deep brown color, the pupil almost blending in with his iris.

“So, I assume you aren’t out here for a little stroll?” He glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes and gave you a sliver of a smile. You shook your head and returned to looking over at the ocean. He sat with you in silence for a moment before he spoke up, “what’s your name?”

“Why do you need to know?”

“I like meeting new people,” he shrugged. “If it makes it easier, I’ll tell you mine: I’m the Doctor.”

“Doctor who?” You asked skeptically.

“Just the Doctor,” he grinned widely.

“Well Doctor, it’s strange that you’re making small talk with someone sitting on the ledge.”

“Like I said, I like meeting new people… Nice day outside, isn’t it? Or should I say night?”

“Yeah,” you hummed quietly. Silence enveloped you both once more, only the sounds of each other’s breathing and the occasional shuffle being heard whenever one of you moved. It was starting to unnerve you, so you decided that telling him your name wasn’t going to do any harm. “(Y/n).”

“What?” He asked quietly.

“(Y/n). That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” you sighed out the last phrase. Normally, you would’ve said it with a large grin and happiness exuding from your every feature but you just felt numb.

“(Y/n),” he said slowly, as if getting a feel for your name, “that’s a lovely name. It suits you, you know. Nice to meet you,” he stuck a hand out towards you and gave you a smile that almost melted the numbness that froze you. You stared at it for a moment before slowly moving to grasp his hand in yours and give it a firm little shake.

“Likewise,” you mumbled. He jumped slightly when your cold skin met his warm hand, looking at you in alarm.

“You’re freezing,” he said before shrugging off his trench coat and laying it across your shoulders. An instant warmth enveloped you, making you unconsciously lean into the warmth. He was warm, incredibly warm. When your nose brushed against the collar, you caught a slight whiff of cologne and… something that you couldn’t place your finger on. Maybe apples or grass? Or a mixture of the two, you didn’t ponder on it. The Doctor was warm and he smelled good.

“Well being cold is the least of my worries right now, Doc,” a small chuckle left you. You gestured at the water below you wordlessly. It was then that you noticed his slightly beaten up off white converse shoes. “Nice shoes by the way. Not my definition of dress shoes, but at least you aren’t running around barefoot. I respect it.”

“Thanks,” he grinned, wiggling his feet in the air slightly, “they’re my lucky pair, haven’t failed me yet.”

“You know, you could use a magic eraser or something to get those dirt stains off from them.”

“Why would I do that? These stains are memories,” he pointed to a slightly purple spot. “This is when R- an old friend accidentally ran into trouble with some nasty things.” He pointed to a small grass stain, “this is when I was running with Martha.”

He had a fond smile on his face as he started to tell you stories about his adventures with his friends. There was Martha, the brilliant doctor (also a doctor, interesting) that almost matched his intelligence. Then there was Sarah Jane, a gifted journalist with a knack for discovering and defending the truth. K-9. Romanas I and II. Peri. Grace. Susan. Kamelion. It was as if this man had lived several lifetimes.

“It sounds like someone’s lived quite the life,” you mused when the conversation fizzled out.

“I have,” he nodded, an almost hidden wistfulness in his tone. “Now what about you? I feel like I’ve been hogging the conversation.”

“No, you’re fine; I liked hearing about your friends. As for me, well my life’s just not important.”

“Not important,” he scoffed. “Impossible. I’ve never met anybody who’s life wasn’t important. Everybody has a story, what’s yours?”

You were silent for a moment before you took a deep breath. What’s one more hour of conversation? It wasn’t like you had any time constraints. You diverged into sharing some aspects of your life, just the small things that wouldn’t normally make any normal person bat an eye at.

But the Doctor wasn’t a normal person.

You didn’t mean that in a negative way, no far from it. He actually was invested in what you had to say, not just politely nodding along. He asked you questions about what you were talking about, subtly pushing you to elaborate further. Soon enough you both were laughing like you were old friends catching up with each other. If anybody drove past you both, they probably would have thought you both were insane.

“You actually did that?” He asked incredulously through his snickering.

“Yes, I was a gullible kid. Not my fault that I’d do anything for a quarter and a cool looking rock,” you smiled and leaned your head against the metal bar behind you. “Everyone thought I was going to become a geologist when I got older with how much I’d hoard rocks in my room like there was no tomorrow. Made Mum cross with me for bringing dirty things into the house, but she never found the stash I had in the basement. I actually think that they’re still there, hidden in a box collecting dust.” You sighed and tightened your grip on the bars, “there’s no appeal in rocks when you grow up and see that the little sparkles and colors in them are just… imperfections that should be ignored.”

“The little imperfections I see in rocks,” he began, pinching a small bit of loose concrete between his pointer finger and thumb and brought it up to his face to examine it. “Are the things I refuse to ignore. They’re charming and separate it from being just a hunk of slate you find in a rock garden.”

“I feel like that’s some sort of analogy.”

“That… wasn’t what I was intending, but I do suppose that it could be one.” He turned to squint at you, placing the rock back onto the ledge next to his thigh. You squinted back at him, wondering what was going through his head. A smile ghosted across his face before he laughed to himself.

“What?” You asked him.

“Nothing,” he chuckled, “it’s just that we’ve talked all night.” He jutted his chin towards the sun rising over the horizon casting oranges and pinks onto the water in place of the moonlight that resided there previously.

“We have,” you said in surprise. The sun’s rays warmed you slightly, but you didn’t want to move away from the shelter of the trench coat. It gave you a strange sense of comfort. You both watched the sun rise out of the ocean and take its place high in the sky. Traffic started to bustle as people started their morning commute to work, some craning their necks in their cars as they drove by to look at you and the Doctor. None stopped to talk to you.

“Say, (N/n),” he started.

“(N/n)?” You asked as the corners of your lips quirked upwards. The nickname made you feel warm inside, it felt nice.

“Yes, (N/n); I think it suits you well. Anyways (N/n), if you were to choose a time and place in all of time and space, where would you like to visit the most?”

“Anywhere? Like, even on a planet trillions of light years from Earth?” You asked him, watching him nod curtly. “Yes, but there are some rules. You can’t interact with your past self or change a point that was destined to happen. Wars, deaths, births, things like that.”

“Ah, so the general movie rules of time travel?” He grumbled to himself (something along the lines of ‘those are wildly inaccurate’) before he nodded once more.

After a bit of contemplation, you supplied him with your answer. A spark in his eye appeared, similar to the spark he got when he talked about his friends but slightly different. He slowly got up and stretched his lanky limbs out, cracks coming from the joints and small groans leaving him whenever the stretch was apparently good.

He looked down at you and, with a grin, extended his hand to you. “(Y/n), would you like to come with me? See that place you wanted to see?”

You found yourself staring at his hand for the second time that night. Thoughts of stranger danger circulated through your mind before you realized that if he wanted to harm you in any way, he would have done it by now. He wouldn’t have talked to you for hours on end, making you feel like you had a small sliver of yourself back again.

Why not? One little detour couldn’t hurt; you had a good feeling about going along with him.

You grabbed his hand and allowed him to pull you up to a standing position. He gave you a small lift so that you could hop over the barrier before he catapulted his body over it. With an arm wrapped around your shoulders, he led you away from the bridge. You both got strange looks from the people driving past, but you managed to ignore it when you burrowed yourself deeper into the trench coat and he brought you closer to him. He led you to an old navy blue police box, much to your confusion.

“Well, Mx…”

“(L/n),” you supplied.

“Well, Mx. (L/n), welcome to the TARDIS.”

One trip turned to two. Then three. Then four. Then several more. It became normal to come home from work to see the man waiting for you comfortably in your small apartment, brightening up whenever you walked through the door and asking you excitedly about what you had in mind for your next adventure.

Soon enough, the voice became something that would only come to you on your bad days, becoming largely dormant in your mind. Whenever you had a bad day, you finally had someone to confide in. Someone that wouldn’t judge you, someone that wouldn’t tell you that you were being overly dramatic.

The Doctor was different from the normal person; he was the Doctor and you wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

#10 x reader #10th doctor x reader #the doctor x reader #doctor who x reader #tenth doctor x reader #doctor who reader insert #gender neutral reader #suicidal reader #hellion writes doctor who

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1ddiscourseoftheday · 4 years ago

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Mon 14 June ‘21

Louis Tomlinson Cooks is here!! Yeah it’s 100% for sure as delightful to watch Louis make himself a sandwich as you might have hoped, but how was his cooking? Well I’ll let Louis rate himself-- “I’m not gonna lie not that appetizing is it, I mean look at it,” he says when it comes time to taste his creation, plus, “chopping peeling slicing not great to be fair- everything else I’m all right” (he’s… not wrong, even aside from the peeler issues has this man ever held a knife??) but- “it probably tastes nice though as I said it’s not about presentation for me… [munches cutely]... it’s actually pretty banging, that’s actually quite nice!” Success! Maybe it’s cause he knows the secret to faking good cooking- “as you can see I don’t have a lot of cooking ability so the more butter the better,” I mean the experts can tell you, that’s advanced stuff right there! #Louis-aChild! Substituting mustard and ketchup for coleslaw is a bit of a bold move, but in a belated attempt to convince the kiddos to eat some healthy veg even though he won’t he does bravely try the cucumber strips despite being “not really a man for cucumber” and makes a pained attempt to be positive- “bit of crunch.” Oh and speaking of crunch I’m relieved to have learned that the waffle is NOT a waffle, it’s a crispy waffle shaped bit of potato; a much more reasonable fish sandwich addition than the American version of a potato waffle! Full Time Meals polled to see what people think of Louis cooking; the two choices are “it was amazing” and “the best,” THEY GET IT. My kind of Louis poll! Helen Seamons rated him a “10/10 for effort and entertainment”, Masterchef acknowledged Louis as one of their own, and Marcus Rashford keeps it simple- “my guy” with a lil heart. YEAH, SAME.

Harry showed up in Italy, where he was papped in Venice being driven around (with PA Luis) on a boat (as you do, in Venice). He’s in a cool embroidered Bode shirt and shades and fancy hair, looking good. He’s seen carrying his suitcase, taking photos, and resting his head on his arms looking like a model. One might think, since we just saw the My Policeman cast and crew on set celebrating the wrap of the shoot, that they were done filming and Harry was off to do something different, but nope, he’s there to film! The book has key scenes in Venice that folks had been wondering about the filming of, and David Dawson is also being boated around Venice for the paps, so, it seems that was just for the wrap of the *UK* filming, which makes sense I guess since it would mostly be different crew I imagine, and perhaps some of the main cast are done as well.

Liam’s NFT sale is happening tomorrow! If you’re confused and want more info, I’M NOT GONNA HELP THAT MUCH… uh but I mean you can check out Liam’s youtube video explaining though I would guess that won’t help much (even Liam thinks so; “there’s probably websites that explain a lot better than me” he admits). There is a roundup now posted of what’s on offer for the buyers of the NFTs but I’m gonna be really honest with you, I’m more confused now than I was before. It’s clear that there are only SIX LONELY BUG NFTs right? They for sure said that I believe. But the packages for each different piece (token bundles) seem to me like they’re available to multiple buyers? Like maybe you don’t get the NFT but multiple top bidders on each get the extras? Like they can’t be selling multiple copies of the NFT... can they?! Isn’t the WHOLE POINT that only one person gets to own it? I DON’T FUCKING KNOW I AM SORRY. What I think I understand to be true: the six NFT buyers get to go to “a once-in-a-lifetime immersive dining experience at Resorts World Las Vegas” (this is the dinner with Liam and “a selection of crypto leaders from around the world” which takes place on display inside a giant glass box) and also “a bespoke commemorative presentation box containing the world’s leading holographic display... with audio... and a custom made Lonely Bug commemorative coin,” and “a unique QR code directing the owner to a special ‘Director’s Cut’ edit of the short digital film ‘Making Of Lonely Bug Collection’ which features unreleased footage from the day of the drop showing the creators' reactions when the winning bids came in” (I mean YEAH I would think it’s unreleased it literally hasn’t happened?) But then there are really a lot of other extras including tickets with Meet & Greet access to any Liam Payne headline show around the world, admission to pool and cinema parties in Vegas with Liam, signed art, non-Liam extras (I will literally bid to NOT have 20 minute phone calls with those crypto entrepreneurs PLEASE… but that’s just me), and access to an online party hosted by Liam; I really get the impression many of these, especially the last one, are just crypto tokens that are for sale that aren’t linked to the main Lonely Bug NFTs and many more than 6 people can buy them but a lot of the extras I’m not clear on which it is. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll understand better WE WILL SEE.

Liam also dropped by the discord last night to say some hellos (after a “long long day”) and that he “bought a piece of NFT art of myself tonight I’m going to give it as a prize Monday night so someone can own a piece of art that was owned by me” (an even less tangible bragging point than simply owning an NFT wow that’s an achievement) and the most important update- “I want a French Bulldog”! Oh and he said “that’s like one I did myself” in his fanart channel to a pic of a tiny crocheted illustration of Louis and Harry holding up a rainbow flag. Didya Liam?? (...Liam is crocheting??) Anyway I recognize who it’s supposed to be because it’s based on a familiar piece of fanart, but Liam definitely might NOT realize it’s meant to be someone specific, and tbh I’m more <eyeballs> at him saying that at the rainbow flag crocheted thing than at it being shippy.

Our Song acoustic version is out this Friday!! And Niall talked about NH3 some in an interview today; “I’m in the studio most days, it feels really good. I’m kinda in the latter stages of it and then I’ll go get a band together and go in and record the whole thing. I’ve just kind of been writing for the past 9 or 10 months and really enjoying it” and “It sounds like a complete album. God knows when it’s coming out because I’d like to be able to get around the world to see all the fans as well” and “It’s different. It sounds a lot more grown up. I’m 27 so it’s about time. I really wanted to kinda cement a sound. The singles I’ve released previously have all been kinda different sounds. I would like to have my ballad sound & like a cemented uptempo sound.” He and Anne Marie also talked about one of the other songs they wrote together saying, “It’s kind of like a, how do you describe it- guitar driven meets Tom Petty meets Katy Perry meets…” but say “We haven’t really decided if we are putting it out yet, the conversations are kinda happening... but it’s completely different (from Our Song).”

#liam payne #whyyyy so confusing #niall horan #louis tomlinson #YES BABE please do bake off now PLEASE #Harry styles #looking so good even though those shorts are AWFUL IMO hilariously frumpy #love that #14 jun 21 #overall I do not think liam should get any more dogs #but a small dog he took everywhere with him would be ADORABLE #(more dogs than he has previously owned I mean he currently has no dogs)

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