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WEIRDCORE!!!!
These are prints/stickers slash designs and stuff, that are up on my redbubble right now (yippee!!!) I have some other weirdcore stuff out too if you want to take a look at my silly silly very silly stock of oddities
#🌩nebulous' art🌒#art#digital art#weirdcore#dreamcore#redbubble#art prints#stickers#for sale#how to tag professional sales post??#weirdcore pinboard#aesthetic#teeth#windows#nostalgia#liminal spaces#moth#uuuuuh#rainbows#pastel#also im oh so silly and will take requests for things you want designed#what do the people want#speak to me#artist#artists on tumblr
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Gavin Magary x reader!
Part 2
Karl Urban Masterlist
Summary: When you started working at the lumber mill, you couldn't help but instantly fall in lust with the strong, quiet younger brother. But you're determined to keep it professional, until one work trip suddenly changes it all.
Notes: I'm actually so anxious to post this story so if you can drop a like or have a kind word, it would mean the entire world! Thank you to @kus-babygirl for encouraging me to post! @shirley-girly @jynx15 @everchar-of-the-shire @scraftsku35
co-written with CheshireCatSmile
Warnings: none for this chapter but there will be smut, and tons of it!
notes: we have more than 22k words of this already written but it's an editing mess so I will be posting as I can get each part edited, let me know if you want tagged! Always lusting for Karl...
part 1
part 2
When Gavin pulls up to the curb in front of your apartment, he surprises you by going around to open your door for you before you're able to get out, and it makes your heart flutter happily.
"I like these quaint old buildings,” he says as you hop out of his truck. “I'm glad you were able to find a good apartment here." He walks beside you as you head up the path to your place and you realize you'd forgotten just how tall he is. Taking his hand out of the pocket of his jeans, he puts his fingers gently at the small of your back as you head up the steps to your door.
“I’m glad I found it too,” you smile, looking up at him. “I didn’t even have anywhere to stay for almost a month when I was between places. Just before you hired me.” You get your key out and unlock the door, letting you both in. “I’ll just change and pack super quick, it will only take a few minutes. Make yourself comfortable.”
Gavin follows you in, shutting the front door behind himself and walks around studying the photos and taking in the rather eclectic style you've managed to find and pull together from the second hand stores and occasional estate sales. You glance at him over your shoulder, just before you enter your room and you see him run his hand lightly over an old quilt folded over the back of the couch. "You've managed to turn this into a real home...it feels really warm and cozy," he calls out to you.
“Thank you,” you call back from your bedroom, a little taken aback by how interested he seems as you quickly finish changing and throw some extra warm clothes and necessities into your hiking backpack. He already let you know that he had all the other supplies and gear, food, sleeping bags and such, for two people so you didn’t need to worry about that.
“It was important to me,” you continue, as you sling you bag over your shoulder and come out of your room, “to make it…feel comfortable. I’m kind of surprised you noticed that though,” you grin.
He studies you for a moment then returns your smile softly. "Contrary to popular opinion...I do have a softer side. Nowadays a little more I guess," he says with a slightly sad and wistful expression. He's quiet for a moment then shakes his head like he's pulling back from his thoughts. "Anyway...got everything you need?"
“Yep, all ready.” Even though it’s summer now, you know it will still get chilly at night and you made sure to pack a few extra layers. A picture comes to your mind unbidden of sitting by a fire with Gavin, just the two of you, and you wonder if he gets easily cold, or if he runs hot all the time like a cozy, muscled furnace…
You don’t realize you’re staring until he turns and catches you in the act.
His hazel eyes twinkle and he gives you a wink before stepping out the door. He watches to make sure you lock up then tugs your pack up off your shoulder and tosses it into his truck in the back seat in case you have something you might need to grab on the drive. "Looks like the weather might hold for awhile but you never know this time of year. It's still early so we should make some headway.” He pauses giving you a soft smile again. “Thanks for coming on such short notice."
“Of course.” You climb into his truck and pull your seatbelt on as he slides into the driver’s seat.. “I’m happy too. I was a little bummed about being in the office alone all week and it’s been ages since I’ve been able to get out.”
He starts to make his way into the hills and it feels so good to just look at the scenery, the tall evergreen trees, lining the highway. The sun is out now but there are clouds ahead of you, sitting on the tops of the mountains in the distance. “I grabbed an extra notebook too so I can document how the seedlings are growing. It will help to already have data when we need to renew that contract.”
"Great thinking,” he says, clearly pleased. “You've really studied up on the business. I have to say I'm impressed." He looks at you appreciatively, his eyes lingering a little longer than necessary. There's a warmth to their hazel depths you hadn't noticed before.
The appreciation and regard in his gaze makes you feel tingly and hopeful inside and it’s a feeling you haven’t felt in a long long time. Maybe never like this.
“So what about you though?” you speak up after awhile of building up your courage, referring to your earlier conversation. “I’m surprised someone hasn’t snapped you up already. Good family, good job…”
Gavin glances over and grins at you, the kind that’s a bit mischievous and teasing. "Guess I'm just too much of a handful for a good woman to put up with." He winks and reaches over to squeeze your knee playfully.
“Oh is that it?” you laugh softly. “Their loss…” you murmur. But all you can think about is which parts of him you wouldn’t mind having a big handful of… You are embarrassingly sure your cheeks are turning bright pink right in front of him. And then right on cue…
"Uh-oh…” he hums, “you're blushin’. Makes me wonder what's running through that pretty little head of yours." Gavin gives a low chuckle when you turn even pinker but just then there's a little bit of a distant rumble and he leans toward the windshield, distracted, to look up at the sky then turns on the radio to search for a weather forecast.
"I think we can beat the weather,” he murmurs. “Next turn-off...the road might get a little bumpy on the way to the trail head."
“Ok,” you answer mildly. But on the inside what’s running through your head is probably not something you should be thinking about your boss, though he certainly didn’t seem to mind. You let your gaze travel to the horizon again and can see some the clouds far off have grown darker and heavier. “I hope the tent is water proof…just in case.”
"Yeah, it's treated with weather-proofing but it depends how heavy and how long a downpour we're exposed to. We shouldn't get the worst weather just yet I don't think. The tent can be a bit of a tight fit but that can be good if the temperature drops too low." He looks over at you with a mixture of emotions in his eyes that you can’t quite name, but intrigue you all the same. "I uh...hope you don't mind."
You study his eyes for a moment, there’s so much there to try and figure out, and against all your better judgment you want it. All of it. Snuggled up close in a tiny tent with this man? Right now you can’t think of anything better. “I don’t mind, I’d rather be warm and safe,” you give him a soft smile. “If you don’t mind?
"Not at all sweetheart...er...y/n," He clears his throat and returns his attention to the road. "I really do appreciate you taking the time to help me out with this." He runs a hand through his hair, mussing it up a bit.
“I appreciate you giving me a good job when I needed it most. I don’t know what I would’ve done…” you trail off. It’s hard to think about what could’ve happened to you if you hadn’t found this job right when you needed it most.
You’re both quiet for a few minutes, but it’s comfortable and soon after he makes the turn on to the back road. You brace yourself for the little bumps along the way. When you can finally see the trail-head it's a relief after the bumping had gotten pretty bad.
"That road really needs to be smoothed out...oh shit!!" he cries out as a deer suddenly bounds in front of the truck. He slams on the breaks and the truck fish tails out of control.
part 3
#gavin magary#karl urban#gavin magary x you#gavin magary x reader#smut is coming#karl urban brainrot go brrr#karl urban fanfiction#karl urban fanfic#karl urban is the man of my fucking dreams#pete's dragon
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https://olderthannetfic.tumblr.com/post/755884216959516672/someone-whose-fanfic-i-left-a-comment-on-is-angry
I'm just throwing out a slight assumption based on another fic that got added to TV tropes: The author mentioned getting a lot more hate and negativity after their fic was added to the TVT in the comment, like noticeably.
They explained in one of the comments to another why they had to mod lock the comments and the fic, and it was in an author's note in a new chapter they later removed. People who didn't like some of the side ships, and people who didn't like the main ships dynamic, started complaining and demanding random shit of the author. I think the AN explicitly mentioned threats and other explicitly threatening comments. It's not really a new that people coming from third parties to look at a fanfic seem to act like they're entitled to demand the author write exactly what they want or change parts of the fic, while they're consuming a story written for free.
Like, sure, you are publishing your story for any readers. But you can't deny that most fics never reach the popularity to become known outside their tag range, so most people aren't prepared nor do they expect to suddenly have to deal with people with absolutely zero interest in their writing, who're just there to insult you and your work coming in through third parties. It's kinda the same deal like with the Goodreads, you're writing for the fandom and for free, not to be put next to original works with much bigger audiences behind them and who're actually getting paid for their writing. And then recieving criticism as if the person had actually paid you.
As a fic writer the expectation is you write for fellow fans, your audience is a small part of fandom people who have interests at least partially aligning with your own. If you write original works, you write for anyone interested in what you have to offer and try to get a wider audience to get more sales and attention.
Side note: It often feels like people give writers a lot less breathing room when it comes to harassment, or having their works plastered into spaces they didn't agree to. Like, any writer complaining is told it's their own fault, and to shut up, and if they didn't want random people with no connection to the fandom or even ship to read it they shouldn't ever dare publish a fanfic ever. A writer mentioning being uncomfortable having their fanfiction plastered into spaces for professional works and with a high rate of unwanted criticism and some times really entitled trolls are expected to just "Suck it up, you knew the risk when you published your work." When they really didn't. How are you supposed to expect that amongst millions of fanfics, your little passion project is going to be shoved onto Goodreads as if it was some kinda professional publication? It also doesn't give the fanfic writers any benefits, AO3 is an archive, stats mean nothing, they're a bit of a vanity boost, but at large you don't get anything from having your work put into professional spaces, no recognition, no money, and you're forcibly held up to the standards or original fiction by entitled people. 🤷♀️ -Btw I know I'm a bit dramatic, and all that, but I still think it's weird how fanfic writers are some times held to standards of published original authors.
--
TV tropes is full of clowns from parts of fandom where a lot more so-called concrit of the "U suck" variety is the norm on top of the overall pattern of more eyeballs meaning more wankers.
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Elizabeth Warren on weaponized budget models
In yesterday’s essay, I broke down the new series from The American Prospect on the hidden ideology and power of budget models, these being complex statistical systems for weighing legislative proposals to determine if they are “economically sound.” The assumptions baked into these models are intensely political, and, like all dirty political actors, the model-makers claim they are “empirical” while their adversaries are “doing politics”:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/03/all-models-are-wrong/#some-are-useful
If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/04/cbo-says-no/#wealth-tax
Today edition of the Prospect continues the series with an essay by Elizabeth Warren, describing how her proposal for universal child care was defeated by the incoherent, deeply political assumptions of the Congressional Budget Office’s model, blocking an important and popular policy simply because “computer says no”:
https://prospect.org/economy/2023-04-04-policymakers-fight-losing-battle-models/
When the Build Back Better bill was first mooted, it included a promise of universal, federally funded childcare. This was excised from the final language of the bill (renamed the Bipartisan Infrastructure Bill), because the CBO said it would cost too much: $381.5b over ten years.
This is a completely nonsensical number, and the way that CBO arrived at it is illuminating, throwing the ideology of CBO modeling into stark relief. You see, the price tag for universal childcare did not include the benefits of childcare!
As Warren points out, this is not how investment works. No business leader assesses their capital expenditures without thinking of the dividends from those investments. No firm decides whether to open a new store by estimating the rent and salaries and ignoring the sales it will generate. Any business that operates on that basis would never invest in anything.
Universal childcare produces enormous dividends. Kids who have access to high-quality childcare grow up to do better in school, have less trouble with the law, and earn more as adults. Mothers who can’t afford childcare, meanwhile, absent themselves from the workforce during their prime earning years. Those mothers are less likely to advance professionally, have lower lifetime earnings, and a higher likelihood of retiring without adequate savings.
What’s more, universal childcare is the only way to guarantee a living wage to childcare workers, who are disproportionately likely to rely on public assistance, including SNAP (AKA food stamps) to make ends meet. These stressors affect childcare workers’ job performance, and also generate public expenditures to keep those workers fed and housed.
But the CBO model does not include any of those benefits. As Warren says, in a CBO assessment, giving every kid in America decent early childhood care and every childcare worker a living wage produces the same upside as putting $381.5 in a wheelbarrow and setting it on fire.
This is by design. Congress has decreed that CBO assessments can’t factor in secondary or indirect benefits from public expenditure. This is bonkers. Public investment is all secondary and indirect benefits — from highways to broadband, from parks to training programs, from education to Medicare. Excluding indirect benefits from assessments of public investments is a literal, obvious, unavoidable recipe for ending the most productive and beneficial forms of public spending.
It means that — for example — a CBO score for Meals on Wheels for seniors is not permitted to factor in the Medicare savings from seniors who can age in their homes with dignity, rather than being warehoused at tremendous public expense in nursing homes.
It means that the salaries of additional IRS enforcers can only be counted as an expense — Congress isn’t allowed to budget for the taxes that those enforcers will recover.
And, of course, it’s why we can’t have Medicare For All. Private health insurers treat care as an expense, with no upside. Denying you care and making you sicker isn’t a bug as far as the health insurance industry is concerned — it’s a feature. You bear the expense of the sickness, after all, and they realize the savings from denying you care.
But public health programs can factor in those health benefits and weigh them against health costs — in theory, at least. However, if the budgeting process refuses to factor in “indirect” benefits — like the fact that treating your chronic illness lets you continue to take care of your kids and frees your spouse from having to quit their job to look after you — then public health care costings become indistinguishable from the private sector’s for-profit death panels.
Child care is an absolute bargain. The US ranks 33d out of 37 rich countries in terms of public child care spending, and in so doing, it kneecaps innumerable mothers’ economic prospects. The upside of providing care is enormous, far outweighing the costs — so the CBO just doesn’t weigh them.
Warren is clear that there’s no way to make public child care compatible with CBO scoring. Even when she whittled away at her bill, excluding millions of families who would have benefited from the program, the CBO still flunked it.
The current budget-scoring system was designed for people who want to “shrink government until it fits in a bathtub, and then drown it.” It is designed so that we can’t have nice things. It is designed so that the computer always says no.
Warren calls for revisions to the CBO model, to factor in those indirect benefits that are central to public spending. She also calls for greater diversity in CBO oversight, currently managed by a board of 20 economists and only two non-economists — and the majority of the economists got their PhDs from the same program and all hew to the same orthodoxy.
For all its pretense of objectivity, modeling is a subjective, interpretive discipline. If all your modelers are steeped in a single school, they will incinerate the uncertainty and caveats that should be integrated into every modeler’s conclusions, the humility that comes from working with irreducible uncertainty.
Finally, Warren reminds us that there are values that are worthy of consideration, beyond a dollars-and-cents assessment. Even though programs like child care pay for themselves, that’s not the only reason to favor them — to demand them. Child care creates “an America in which everyone has opportunities — and ‘everyone’ includes mamas.” Child care is “an investment in care workers, treating them with respect for the hard work they do.”
The CBO’s assassination of universal child care is exceptional only because it was a public knifing. As David Dayen and Rakeen Mabud wrote in their piece yesterday, nearly all of the CBO’s dirty work is done in the dark, before a policy is floated to the public:
https://prospect.org/economy/2023-04-03-hidden-in-plain-sight/
The entire constellation of political possibility has been blotted out by the CBO, so that when we gaze up at the sky, we can only see a few sickly stars — weak economic nudges like pricing pollution, and not the glittering possibilities of banning it. We see the faint hope of “bending the cost-curve” on health care, and not the fierce light of simply providing care.
We can do politics. We have done it before. Every park and every highway, our libraries and our schools, our ports and our public universities — these were created by people no smarter than us. They didn’t rely on a lost art to do their work. We know how they did it. We know what’s stopping us from doing it again. And we know what to do about it.
Have you ever wanted to say thank you for these posts? Here’s how you can: I’m kickstarting the audiobook for my next novel, a post-cyberpunk anti-finance finance thriller about Silicon Valley scams called Red Team Blues. Amazon’s Audible refuses to carry my audiobooks because they’re DRM free, but crowdfunding makes them possible.
[Image ID: A disembodied hand, floating in space. It holds a Univac mainframe computer. The computer is shooting some kind of glowing red rays that are zapping three US Capitol Buildings, suspended on hovering platforms. In the background, the word NO is emblazoned in a retrocomputing magnetic ink font, limned in red.]
#empirical facewash#wealth tax#elizabeth warren#cbo#congressional budget office#penn wharton budget model#budgeting#economics#economism#computer says no#pluralistic#universal childcare#build back better#bipartisan infrastructure bill
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ׂׂૢ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:・ Hi guys! I wanted to post some info about this blog and these adopts! ׂׂૢ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:・
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ABOUT AND PAGE DIRECTORY BELOW
vi45 is a mega talented, super sweet artist who has poured years of time and effort into the cutest and most unique G4 accurate adopts I’ve ever seen.
She is very trustworthy, I actually met her through many many sales of ponies time and time again that brightened my day.
The ponies I am featuring here are from her backlog. She has created hundreds and hundreds of ponies, all of extremely high quality and I can personally attest to her creativity and wonderful professionalism. (Too many artists G4 these days have been called out for design theft and AI use now.)
These backlog ponies are half the price of her newest ones, of the same amazing quality! And I implore you to take advantage of this amazing deal to find homes for the ponies that got buried under waves of new adopts and amazing art.
There are direct links to the sales on each post, as well as access to her page where you can view hundreds of satisfied customers and trustworthy sales!
She did not ask me to make this page. She discussed how she is sad that old ponies were not finding homes (DA can be tiresome in this way with organization) and I wanted everyone to see her magnificent art!!
You can easily browse this page through the tagging feature.
All ponies are tagged by race #unicorn #pegasus #batpony #alicorn #earth pony
All prices are tagged by #eight #ten #fifteen and #twentyfive
So you can find exactly what you are looking for!
All adopts come with HQ transparent files and cutie marks, each one made lovingly by hand.
Feel free to ask me any questions you wish! Thanks again. Love this gal. <333 Clipper Cruise and White Star art by vi45 herself!
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ART TAG
thanks for tagging me @deathclassic @kiennilove @suzy-queued @doshiart and @sgtmickeyslaughter 🥰💙
Have you always been interested in creating art? i have, yea! i've been drawing for as long as i can remember!
What's your favourite medium to use? If digital, what programs do you like? right now i would say digital since it's what i use the most nowadays. i use procreate on an ipad that is about to give out on me (and i really really need it to NOT do that).
Do you create outside of fandom? yea, i make silly little sketches for myself almost daily. just to stay sane while i work a corporate 9-5. those will never see the light of day.
Share something you haven't finished and/or never got around to posting this is like 90% done... but i never posted it because i didn't feel good with it at the time lol like something was off and i felt like i would have to undo too much to get it where i wanted it to be... (does this make sense?)
Favourite piece you've made? this is hard! i feel like it changes all the time? i'm going to go with this one because i really like how the background turned out and because i'm a soft bitch
Draw your icon in a minute or less hehe his cheeks
An underrated piece you've made in your opinion 'baby boy' idk i think it's really soft and lovely
but also, a lot of the kinktober pieces… i’ve been so so so very proud of them because they’re so vulnerable and i think i did a nice job with some of them, but they don’t quite take off 😅
Do you do art in a professional setting? i do not. my work is the furthest thing i could get from being creative.
A piece you don't like but did really well on social media uuuhhh i think i'll skip this one! simply because i could pick apart probably everything i've ever posted lol!
Post an old piece and compare it to your most recent, what are the similarites? i'm not going to do my most recent because it's kinktober and i also went for a pretty different style... SO! i'll do the first comic style one i did and the latest one!
the color palette is still the same, they're still very soft and gone for each other, i really love a gentle face hold!
Have you ever collaborated with another artist/s? i don't think i have? but i've collaborated with a couple of writers to make some pieces for their fics!
What piece has the most notes? Are you surprised? roadtrip boys! i'm not really surprised, not for nothing but i did my thing here. there's lots of details, storytelling, dreamy colors. i get it.
Who/What is your favourite subject matter? tbh it's landscapes or mundane still lifes...lol!! "julissa, not bowls of fruit!", everyone cried! you'd be correct. not that. but everyday kind of humdrum but meaningful pieces. atmospheric. yanking you back to a point in time. - i did a drawing of my grandma's vanity once. with her lipsticks and little lotions and stuff. like that.
Show us something not from fandom you've made here go:
Where do you like to create? on my couch. absolutely hunched over like a shrimp.
Do you have a tag that you use to group your creations? Tell us so people can follow it i do! i put everything under myart
Give yourself a shoutout, where can we commission/buy/follow you for more pieces? i don't do commissions or have anything for sale and i also don't exist anywhere else lamdsflj i'm just here and i crosspost on ao3 💙
i'll tag @deedala @michellemisfit @gallapiech @lingy910y @vintagelacerosette @gallawitchxx @spookygingerr @romidoes if you'd like to play! if not, this is just me giving you a little nose boop!
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Do you have anything related to publishing, especially places to publish? Maybe a site like ao3 but for original content?
Thank you so much! I hope this isn't a fool question!
Guide: A Quick Rundown on Publishing
The Four Types of Publishing
Online Publishing is when you publish your story on a blog, web site, social media site, or fiction sharing site. My post 12 Sites for Sharing Original Fiction is a little out of date, but it covers the still active options for publishing your story online. Also, don't discount AO3 for original fiction as its original fiction tag is growing. PROS: free; good way to build platform. CONS: no income.
Traditional Publishing is when a publishing house acquires and publishes your manuscript. The "Big Five" publishers (and many others) do not accept unsolicited manuscripts, so you need to find ones that do or seek representation by a literary agent. The publisher (including author services like editing, formatting, cover, production, distribution, and promotion) and agent cost you nothing upfront/out-of-pocket. They will get paid out of the proceeds from your book once it's on sale. Some publishers pay an advance on royalties upon acquisition of your book, though these are increasingly low or nonexistent for debut authors these days. Then, you will periodically (every six months, usually) receive a royalties check with the percent of sales your publisher agreed to pay you. PROS: no upfront fees; all the author services are taken care of for you; you have a publishing team and plenty of guidance; income! CONS: querying can be a long and stressful rejection-filled process; landing an agent doesn't guarantee you'll get a publisher; you're working with a team so you're not the only one making decisions about your book; it generally takes a year to publication after manuscript is acquired; there's no guarantee your book will make a lot of money once it's on sale.
Self-Publishing/Indie Publishing is when you publish your novel yourself on a platform like Kindle Direct Publishing, Apple Books, Barnes & Noble Press, Draft2Digital, IngramSpark, Kobo, etc. Since these platforms deal with e-books and Print On Demand, you don't pay for the cost of production. You do need to self-arrange and potentially pay for editing, formatting, cover, and promotion. I say "potentially" because it's possible to do your own editing, formatting, and cover, but it's best to hire professionals when you can afford to. Once your book is live, you will periodically receive whatever percent of royalties the platform pays. PROS: you are in control of everything from author services to publishing timeline; there's some flexibility in how much you pay for author services; typically higher royalties than traditionally published authors receive. CONS: paying out-of-pocket for author services; no advance; no guarantee book will sell or sell well enough to cover what you put into it.
Subsidy Publishing is when you pay a publishing press to publish your novel for you, which includes author services like editing, cover design, formatting, distribution, and promotion. Many subsidy presses publish via existing e-book and Print On Demand services like KDP and IngramSpark. Since they're a third-party between you and these services, and since their author services are in-house, publishing via a subsidy press is a lot more expensive than arranging and paying for these services directly. However, for people who can afford it, this is often the best route to publication with some caveats. And I want to say here: since subsidy publishing was the first type of self-publishing, it's often frowned upon and seen as illegitimate, even being called "vanity presses" by some (I've been guilty of this myself.) But it's important to note that for people with disabilities and other circumstances that make self-publishing challenging or impossible, this might be the best way for them to publish. The caveat is there's a lot of predatory practice in the subsidy press industry, so if you choose to go that route, do your research (look for online "Watch Dog" lists calling out predatory businesses) and make sure your bases are covered. PROS: everything is handled for you. CONS: extremely expensive and cost-prohibitive for many; risk of predatory practice; no guarantee you'll make back what you put in.
Additional Notes on Publishing
No Publishing Route is Better or Worse - Every writer chooses the route they think will work best for them. Some succeed on their chosen route, some fail and try a different route, some use one route for one book and a different route for the next book. No route is superior to any other. No type of publishing produces categorically better or worse books than any other. All types of publishing produce lots of good and lots of bad books.
Being Traditionally Published Doesn't Validate You As a Writer - Traditional publishing is run by gatekeepers whose number one interest is in making money. They make publishing choices primarily based on trends and industry data, meaning that a bad book that's on trend will make more money before people realize it's terrible than a really good book that isn't trendy enough to turn heads. That means a lot of really good books are passed up in favor of not-so-great books. Being traditionally published doesn't mean your book is good. Failing to be traditionally published doesn't mean your book is bad. Sometimes it's the luck of the draw. Validation comes from readers who enjoy and even love your work, whether you find them through your web site, fiction sharing sites, self-published books, or traditionally published books.
There's Room For EVERYONE in Publishing - People still love to read. They love to read on a rainy day. They love to read by the beach or pool. They love to read on the bus. They love to read while on the treadmill. They love to read on long drives. Goodreads logged 320 million books pledged to be read in the 2022 reading challenge. And people love to read EVERYTHING! Whatever you want to write, I guarantee there's an audience for it. You just have to do the work of finding it. So, FFS, let's stop turning up our noses at certain genres, categories, tropes, and publishing routes. Bragging about what you won't read or won't write doesn't make people sound intelligent, it makes them sound like snobs. And we just don't need that sh*t anymore. We can be supportive of other writers and other authors and other readers without losing anything ourselves.
So... whether you choose to publish fan-fiction or original fiction on AO3, or YA through a Big Five publisher, or self-publish a romance, or subsidy publish a memoir, or e-mail an original short story to your best friend... YOU ARE VALID, YOU ARE A WRITER, YOU ARE AN AUTHOR.
You know where to find me if you need tips and advice. ♥
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I've been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I've learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!
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What You Meant To Me // Eddie Munson
I saw this on @creativepromptsforwriting and IMMEDIATELY thought of Eddie.
Prompt: Person A is a famous celebrity who is being stalked by someone. Their team doesn’t want to make it obvious that they hired a bodyguard, but to explain why Person B would be with Person A all the time, they act like they are Person A’s new lover.
exes to strangers to bodyguard to ???? || Masterlist || AO3
tags: Mayfield! Adopted Female Reader, angsty bitches, running from Big Feelings™, Rockstar! Eddie, Post S4, ten years later, canon compliant, light smut at the end, implied sexual content, bodyguard reader
///
“YOU’VE got to be shitting me,” Eddie said, eyes going to Robin. “Buckley-”’
“It’s out of my hands Munson,” she said, crossing her arms, “besides, this isn’t a joke. This is the fourth time these people have tried something.”
Eddie rubbed a hand down his face. “It’s just a couple of fans! This is ridiculous. The guys aren’t getting some person following them around.”
“The guys didn’t come back to their home and find a girl naked in their bed-”
“-that’s a gross simplification-”
“She had a knife, Eddie,” Robin snapped, her voice shaking. Eddie glanced up at his friend and manager. She glanced around the room to the rest of his publicity team. “Can you guys give us a moment?”
Eddie watched Robin’s hand tremble just slightly as the rest of the interns, managers, and coordinators filed out the room – Mike shot him a sympathetic look before closing the door behind him.
“I am assigning you a bodyguard for around the clock watch until the end of the tour,” she started, explaining the process and how it’ll be from now on.
Groaning, Eddie let his head loll to the side and watched as Robin continued, ignoring him like the professional she was.
He had to give it to her – she wasn’t wrong per say. He was starting to get major mental instability vibes from these two. It was always the same couple – a man and a woman who sent him unnerving amounts of fan mail about how God had sent them a message that he was meant to join them in a throuple. All he had wanted to do was play guitar for a living, now he had clinically insane people breaking into his apartment and taking fucking naps in his hotel room.
There was a small part of him, a very small part, that was a little relieved. It was extremely unsettling to have people be so obsessed with any morsel of information that they could find about you. Eddie had fought hard to have a peaceful life and he didn’t relish in feeling the need to look over his shoulder every two seconds again.
A sharp thwack to his head had him stumbling out his thoughts. “Ouch! Robin!” He hissed, rubbing his ear.
“Are you listening to me?”
“Honestly, no,” Eddie admitted. “All I heard was you’re getting an undercover bodyguard and she’ll pretend to be your girlfriend so you’re not stabbed to death in some ritual. This person is going to have to be following after me every second of the day – that’s…you know how I feel about new people in our circle.”
Robin sighed, shooting him a knowing look. “I know you all value your privacy and it’s my job to help protect that. But we still have two months left on this leg of the tour. They keep fucking finding you and we have no idea how. The security the label keeps sending is baffled at how they’re doing it – we don’t need a professional, we need an expert.”
“Robin-”
“I didn’t help carry you out of that hellhole and keep you from bleeding out on Harrington’s seats for you to get stabbed on me now,” Robin said softly, her eyes betraying her anxiety. Eddie sighed. Jesus Christ, she’d pulled out the big guns. “International dates go on sale at the end of this month – you four are just going to get more popular at this rate. The rest of this leg is officially sold out; this is what happens when you’re good, Munson – you’re famous now. Everything is changing. We need to take precautions.”
The pain in his temple took another jab at him. “Alright, alright. I’ll play along and be part of a happy couple or whatever.”
Robin grinned and he sighed. “Great. I’ve already called a company and they’re sending their best employee over tomorrow. We’ll meet her at nine, sharp. Do not be late.”
“Tomorrow?” Eddie sputtered. Wasn’t the point of this meeting to get his approval?
She shot him a look as she stood and walked to the door. “I’m sorry, did you think you were in charge here? You signed a losing deal the day you agreed to let me be your manager Munson. Suck it up, Buttercup. You got yourself a bodyguard.”
///
You hated being left in the dark.
The whole nature of your job – your profession – was to know everything at every moment. You were hypervigilant; a side effect of being a pseudo monster hunter for a good chunk of your childhood.
So, when Hopper called you up for a special assignment, you found it odd that he’d refused to give you any details. There was no file, no briefing, no notes for you to have any idea on what this assignment was about. He said they needed an experienced female agent, that it was very under wraps, and they were currently in Atlanta for the next two days - which what a coincidence, there you were. You’d been closing out the paperwork on your previous assignment – the youngest daughter of a senator – when he’d called.
Not one to shy away from a challenge, but not liking the secrecy, you had asked Hopper to assign it to someone else. You had a few years of experience on Johnson but you’d trained her yourself – she wouldn’t let anyone down.
“It has to be you, Mayfield,” Hopper said, voice tinny like it always was when he called from Hawkins. “Do it for me.”
Hopper never called in favors. Never. So, you were both interested and mildly disgruntled as you rode up a fancy glass elevator into a massive building. It was clear they – whoever they were – had money and needed discretion. But that wasn’t new to you.
By the sight of the rented office, your guess was either musician or a writer.
You had barely put a foot out the elevator when a blur of dark blonde hair slammed into you. It was only the familiar sound of someone screaming your name that kept you from body slamming her into the floor next to you.
“Robin?” You asked incredulously. “Holy shit, I haven’t seen you in-”
“Years? Three to be exact,” she said, squeezing you once more before stepping back and shooting you a knowing look. “Once you get running, you really don’t stop do you?”
You rolled your eyes at the jab. You had a standing weekly phone call with Robin and Harrington, the three of you adamant on not losing touch despite the fact that two of you travelled so often. Wait, the reason Robin hadn’t been around to meet up was because she’d become…
Straightening, you barely controlled the scowl on your face. “I’m going to kill Hopper.”
Completely unbothered, Robin linked her arm through yours. “If we told you – you wouldn’t have come. I don’t know why you two avoid each other like the plague but it needs to be you. We need someone we can trust. Please, just hear us out?”
“Robin,” you groaned.
“I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t serious.”
At that, you perked up. She was right, she didn’t know – no one knew – what had happened between you two but she had always been respectful of the boundaries you’d set. No matter how stupid. So, if she was asking, it was important.
“Fine. I’ll hear you out,” you promised, rolling your eyes when she grinned like she’d already won.
Who were you kidding? You’d do anything for Robin – for any of them. It was part of the trauma bond at this point. Without giving you a chance to change your mind, Robin led you down a hall and into a massive conference room.
You squinted at the brightness, the entire room looked like it was made from glass, the view of downtown Atlanta impressive and beautiful. As your eyes adjusted, you knew that no amount of preparation or notes would’ve prepared you for the sight of Eddie Munson.
It’d been ten years and your heart still jumped up at his presence.
His dark gaze was on yours immediately and it brought you back to the last time you’d seen him. He’d been cleared of all charges and given the green light to go home. You’d walked in on him while he was adjusting to walking again, torso littered with bandages. You’d gone to tell him you were leaving and you’d never forget the look in his eyes-
“Mayfield!”
You found yourself in the middle of a group hug, one led by Gareth – someone you’d actually seen in the past few years. Jeff was at your side while Liam and Mike were squishing themselves in the best they could.
“Hey boys,” you said, not able to keep your laugh down. “It’s been a long time.”
“I saw you two months ago,” Mike said and you watched Eddie’s eyes narrow at that.
Jeff snorted. “It’s been a good handful of years for me. Last I saw of you, you were kicking someone’s ass on Hollywood Boulevard.”
“In my defense-”
“- they started it,” Jeff and Liam chorused.
You grinned, happy to be around people who you knew so well. People that knew you – before…before it all went to shit. They all herded you over to the table, sitting you down next to Robin.
Eddie, across the table nodded. “Mayfield.”
“Munson,” you said, just as detached.
“This is going to be fun,” Gareth whispered.
Eddie shot him a withering glare and you decided to be the only adult in the room and ignored them all.
“This is our plan,” Robin said, sliding you the thick file.
With a grimace, you pulled a pair of glasses from your small purse and shot Jeff a pointed look when he giggled.
“Didn’t know you wore glasses,” Robin said, her own teasing smile growing.
“I usually wear contacts but today was supposed to be my day off,” you said, pointedly, and shrugged. “I only need them at night or when I’m tired. I – well, Harrington and I had one too many concussions it seems.”
Robin and Mike nodded, sympathetic and understanding. Eddie, however, stilled.
“So, what do you think? I put together the plan after the most recent incident.
“Who’s seen this?” You asked.
Robin glanced at the band and Mike. “Everyone in this room.”
“That’s it?”
She nodded. “I don’t know how they keep getting to them – obviously Eddie’s is the more dire but, I’m keeping my cards close.”
Distracted by the most recent bout of disturbing fan mail, you nodded. The words ‘FAKE GIRLFRIEND, UNDERCOVER’ blared at you. Grip tightening on the file, you frowned. You couldn’t be his girlfriend – it wasn’t…surely at this point it wasn’t ethical. You both hadn’t been around each other since you packed up, wrapped your little sister in metaphorical bubble wrap, and got the hell out of Hawkins. You were about to tell Robin that you couldn’t do it, that your subordinate would be more than capable – when you saw Eddie’s statement.
Officer F. Jacobs: What happened after that?
E. Munson: Nothing happened, I ran out of there and called the fucking cops. This is so violating; she was in my house man! She touched my shit. I don’t know if anything is missing or if he did anything to my stuff – this is the third time I’ve found them. I just want to be left alone.
Your chest tightened at the crime scene photos, clearly of Eddie’s apartment with the front doorknob unscrewed from its hinge. You’d clearly taken too long to respond because Robin had launched into a pitch on how they really needed your help.
“It pays really well!” She added on, her brows jumping up when you shot her a look. “Mayfield, please-”
Eddie straightened. “She clearly doesn’t want to do it, Robin, just let her-”
Fucking shit, you cursed. You might’ve left Hawkins behind but your loyalty to this group ran deep and you knew that Hopper knew that.
“I’ll do it,” you said, interrupting the growing fight between Robin and Eddie. Silence fell, everyone’s eyes swinging around to you. “I’ll need to fly back to Headquarters – whatever. I can do it I just need a few hours to get everything in order. I need a schedule of every single stop you have from here until the end of the tour.”
“That file is your copy, the only copy, and it has all the information you’ll need,” Robin said, looking delighted.
“Uh, wait-” Eddie sputtered but you all ignored him.
“The proposal here indicates that you want our office to completely overhaul your security protocol?” You asked, blinking down at the text in your hands. “Are you sure? What about the record label?”
Robin’s eyes flashed. “They’re clearly incompetent and if we’re going to be spending money, I want to spend it on people I trust.”
“They’re willing to foot the bill? For an overhaul? And my tailing him for two months?”
Nodding, Robin crossed her arms. “Corroded Coffin has had a very sudden and very quick rise to popularity. Six songs from their second album are on the top one hundred charts. It’s only going to grow from there. We’ve officially sold out the remainder of this tour and will likely sell out the international one. Anyone we have on staff now is trustworthy because they’ve grown with us. The security the label keeps sending are idiots and I don’t trust them.”
You sighed, trying to work out who was on roster back in Los Angeles. “Well, we don’t specify in full team security, I’ll tell you that. We’re a small company and we work internationally – there’s only about five I can call from California on hand now. Everyone else is on assignment. Shit, half of us are scattered around western Europe. Actually, make that four because I need to assign someone to the jobs I now can’t take. I do…know people who can lend a helping hand though. People you can trust,” you assured her.
Hares Security was not the biggest company but in the past ten years you’d been able to cultivate a loyal list of clients. Hopper started the private security firm a few years after the…earthquake. He hadn’t wanted to return to public service and being a cop was all he knew. He’d offered you a job straight out of college and had been grooming you to take over as head of the company for when he’d go into retirement.
You knew he needed someone he could trust to keep everything afloat since he’d started bouncing between Hawkins, California, and Rhode Island – where Will was a master’s student at the Rhode Island School of Design.
Jesus, this was an entire overhaul of their system. Not that they had a good one in place to start with. From the looks of it, the security team that had been assigned to them were all inexperienced and practically useless. Some had mall experience. Who the hell hired these people?
“Okay, I’ll sound the alarm and we’ll have people incoming in the next twenty-four hours. I need to talk to Hopper though and let him know what I’ve got in mind. Is this the hotel you’re all staying at?” You asked, brows rising at the fancy hotel downtown.
Robin’s head bobbed. “They’ve got some recording to do this afternoon but we’ll be there by eight for an early night. We have an morning flight to New York City.”
“Alright,” you said, standing and tucking the file under your arm. You reached out to ruffle Mike’s hair – smiling when he grumbled. “I’m going to make some calls, fly back home and gather the arsenal. I’ll see you all in New York.”
Pointedly ignoring Eddie’s stare, you pressed a quick kiss to Robin’s head and walked out the room.
The doors to the elevator had barely closed when you pulled out your StarTAC and aggressively punched in Hopper’s number.
“Hey kiddo.”
You scowled, hoping he could hear it. “This was low. Even for you.”
“I see you’ve found out the details of your new assignment.”
“How do you know I’ve even taken it? What if I’m reassigning it to Johnson?”
“Because it’s you. You never do things half-assed.”
Fucking fuck, you hated how well Hopper knew you sometimes. “This is wildly unprofessional.”
“So is my favoritism to you but you never complain about that.”
You sputtered and growled when his tinny laugh echoed through your phone. “Asshole.”
“Listen, I don’t know what the hell happened with Munson but they need your help. Help I know only you can give. If you really want out, let me know and I’ll fly down there myself.”
Jesus, this really was bad if Hopper himself was willing to sub in.
“I can do it,” you said, mildly insulted, “I’m a professional unlike some people.”
“Right,” he said, tone amused.
Rolling your eyes, you cradled the phone between your shoulder and stalked out the lobby. “This is going to be a major lift, Hop, I’m going to need all hands-on deck and outsource some general security. People we can trust and maybe some military experience for some of the larger concerts. This is…gonna be a lot.”
“Fly out whoever you need to. Buckley and the suit at the label assured me that there’s no limit. You know where to find me if you need me.”
Rubbing the headache blooming at your temples, you shut your phone and sighed. You could do this. You could protect and be Eddie’s security detail. You were a goddamn professional.
///
“I can’t believe you got Henderson to fly out for cyber security,” Robin said, watching from the lighting control stage as Gareth let Dustin mess around on the drums.
You bit back a smile when you saw Jeff wrap him up in a headlock. Immature children, all of them. “They all owe me favors until the day I kick it,” you said, turning to her, “including you.”
“Hey!”
“Besides, NASA’s headquarters is in D.C., that’s a short train ride. Dustin’s the best at this stuff, whatever he comes up with has been Suzie approved and between the two of them any holes you have in any virtual world will be covered.”
Footsteps alerted you to someone approaching. “Mayfield?” A familiar voice called out. You turned to see Johnson approaching you, clipboard in hand.
“Everything set?”
“Yes. Julian’s team should be here shortly and we’ll help them familiarize themselves with the venue,” she said, handing over the clipboard.
Glancing down at your checklist, you were pleased to see that the small team you’d assembled had already covered a lot of ground. Yang had even sent someone ahead to the Texas venue to scout out any major possible issues.
“Good job Johnson,” you said, watching as she stood up a little straighter, “you’ve got all the angles covered. I’m placing you in charge of anything I can’t get ahold of while I’m on personal security. You’ve got my number, call me if anything comes up.”
“Sure boss,” she said, jetting off towards the loading dock.
You could practically feel Robin’s grin. “Just say it,” you sighed.
“I knew you were practically the head of the company, it’s just so different to see it in action. You’re someone’s boss,” Robin said.
Rolling your eyes, you turned to her. “You’re the manager of one of the biggest bands at the moment, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?”
“Uh no, you have like – a gun,” she whispered, “you’re like a karate master or something. I still trip over their mic wires sometimes.”
At that, you couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m a black belt in Judo, not Karate and I distinctly remember all three of us in blue sailor uniforms serving ice cream at Starcourt. Once you’ve been humbled that profoundly, there’s no coming back.”
“That’s true,” Robin snorted, bumping her shoulder with yours. “So, you ready for the next two months?”
“Nope, but I’m here anyway.”
“And that’s why I love you the most,” Robin said, ducking when you reached out to whack her.
///
No amount of warning or prepping could’ve prepared you for being alone with Eddie for the first time, in a decade.
“I’m sorry,” Robin said, eyes apologetic. “I didn’t know if you’d accept and there were no rooms left available at the hotel. I was going to try to move us to downtown but our flight is after the show – it’s only a few hours-”
Stopping her increasingly frantic stumbling, you’d grabbed her hands and assured her that you could make do for the night. She almost folded under the gratitude and swore you’d always have the requested adjoining room from now on.
“Alright, see you two tomorrow,” Gareth said, swiping his card to the room and disappearing through it.
Eddie cleared his throat and you sighed. Okay, you could be the mature one if you needed to be. Holding out your hand, Eddie blinked at you. “What?”
“Give me the card.”
His brow quirked. “I can open the door on my own.”
“I know, smartass, I need to do a sweep of the room before you go in,” you said, “did you read the file I gave you?”
Eddie crossed his arms defensively. “I- it was a big file!”
Biting back a laugh, not wanting to encourage the bad behavior, you wiggled your hand again and he sighed. Opening the room, you shoot him a death stare when he went to step behind you. Sticking his hands up, he stood by the door as you made your way through the sitting room, the bathroom, the closet, and the bedroom.
“It’s clear,” you told him, ducking to double check under the bed. Eddie walked in, eyes zeroing in on your shoulder piece as you stood back up.
“Is that a gun?” His voice squeaked towards the end.
Nodding, you made way towards the sitting room and plopped down onto the sofa. “I don’t usually carry one but your situation is a bit different.”
“Enough to warrant a gun?”
Your eyes shot to his and you crossed your arms. “I’m head of your security and these people squirmed their way in with a knife, Eddie. What about that are you not understanding?”
Eddie grumbled something inaudible.
“Is it because I’m a girl or because I’m…me?”
His eyes raised to yours and he shook his head. “Neither,” he said adamantly, “you’ve always – even back then – you…you never liked bullies.” He made his way over to his duffel bag and grabbed a handful of clothes. Hesitating by the bathroom, he turned to you and you waved a hand.
“You can take the bathroom first,” you assured him, “I’m going to confirm everything is set for our ride to JFK.”
By the time you’d confirmed everything for tomorrow, showered, and had your nightly tea, you were exhausted. Eddie popped out from the bathroom, smelling like mint, and you couldn’t stop your eyes from dropping to his now bare arms.
The scars were clearly old, healed, but they were still visible enough for you to see from your position on the floor. Guilt roared in your chest and a lump settled in your throat.
“What are you doing?” He asked, feet coming to a stop by your head.
“I’m getting ready for bed?” You said, propping yourself up on your elbow from the makeshift bed you’d made from extra pillows and some of the couch cushions.
“That’s on the floor,” he said, glancing at the bed, “you can just take-”
“Eddie.”
“-you can’t just sleep on the floor-”
“Eddie…”
“-you have a bad shoulder, I remember. Besides you can’t always guard me from the floor-”
“Eddie!” You watched his jaw snap closed and you nodded towards the bed. “Listen, after this one time we’ll have adjoining rooms – that we’ll need to keep open – but I promise not to ruin your love life or whatever. I’ve done this for years now. I know how to make myself scarce and as unintrusive as possible so my clients don’t feel like their lives are turned around.”
You watched in fascination as his skin turned a violent shade of red. “That’s – I don’t – I wouldn’t – I’m not-” he stuttered, hands flailing around.
“Right, you’re the only celibate rockstar in the industry,” you said, goading him. Eddie’s flailing increased as he tried to explain what he meant.
A pang of nostalgia shot through you as he stammered through his explanation poorly. Money, fame, music aside – it was comforting to see that even after all these years, Eddie was still Eddie.
His stammering stopped as he saw your smile and he rolled his eyes. “You little shit.”
“How dare you,” you said, fluffing up your pillow, glad that some of the ice between you two had cracked. Like it or not, you were going to be his shadow for the next two months.
“You were fucking with me,” he said, gaping. “I – Mayfield.”
“Go to sleep, we’ll be up in five hours anyway to start the interviews then we’re on a flight to Texas,” you told him, gently nudging him away with your hand. He stumbled, as if burned, and hesitatingly sat on the bed.
“Are you sure-”
“Ed’,” you said, the old nickname rolling off your tongue, “go to sleep. I’ve slept in worst places than a four-star hotel’s floor.”
His brows rose, shock flittering across his expression before settling. “Yeah?”
You nodded, turning onto your side so the door was in your sight. “Last year I was on a team for a minor royal, she had no qualms about who was present during her sexual escapades.”
Eddie laughed and your stomach fluttered. Shutting your eyes tightly, you beat the sudden rise of emotion back into submission.
You were going to kill Hopper when this was over.
///
Late night talk shows were the worst, you decided. Anxiety ricocheting as the studio’s security argued with your team behind you.
Forgetting that you were playing a part, you’d almost stepped in when the security guard shouted at Johnson. Forcing yourself to smile and walk in with the band, you reminded yourself to take a few more undercover assignments in the future – your skills were getting rusty.
“You don’t at all look like you want to murder someone,” Mike said, stepping up next to you from the wings of the stage.
“Is it that obvious?”
Mike snorted. “I don’t think you’ve taken your eyes off of him from the moment we got in.”
“They’re being stubborn. Doesn’t all talent have their own security team?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder and watching Johnson hold her own. “What’s the issue with us? Besides, I’ve counted like three massive holes in their system.”
“Calm down Terminator,” he said, bumping your shoulder. Eddie’s laughter drew your attention back to him as the audio assistant set him up with a mic and explained how the cues were going to go.
The boys were on the second stage to the left, assuring themselves that their equipment had all arrived unscathed and were tuned to perfection.
“Hey, Boss!” You turned towards your newly acquired nickname – thanks to Jeff who had refused to listen to you until you’d let him know you were the boss. You were never living it down – and saw Eddie waving you over.
“This is uh, my girlfriend,” Eddie said, introducing you to Conan O’Brien.
You stepped forward, smile settled in your features, and shook his hand. Coming to Eddie’s side, you mumbled, “you’re a natural,” as Conan settled into his chair.
“Shut up,” he muttered.
“You call your girlfriend Boss?” Conan joked. “That’s either really smart or sarcastic enough to earn me a slap.”
Smiling and stepping forward, you cross your arms playfully. “He knows who’s in charge,” you winked. Eating it up, Conan guffawed.
Eddie grumbled awkwardly behind you and you smacked his shoulder with the back of your hand. “Besides, he brings me everywhere – we can’t live without each other, right pumpkin?”
“Right,” he said dryly.
Conan began talking about his own girlfriend, sitting in the green room backstage, when something in the corner of your eye caught your attention.
Your instinct won and you turned to find a woman with blonde hair running straight to you. Without much thought, your training kicked in and before anyone could step in, you had her on her stomach with a knee to her back.
“Eddie! Eddie! I love you!” She screamed, hysterically crying despite the pressure you applied to her spine. Jesus, she had a set of lungs on her. You were impressed.
A portly man shuffled forward, his eyes wide as saucers, “Uh, Miss, I can take it from here.”
“Oh,” you remembered, eyes darting up to Eddie’s. His brown eyes were dilated, mouth gaping a little, and he was frozen. Stumbling at his reaction, you tried to dust yourself off and shot a bewildered Conan a grin. “Sorry about that!”
“That’s some form you’ve got there!” Conan exclaimed, hands going up. “Man, the Giants could sure use some defense like you.” His eyes darted down your figure and you fought the urge to roll your eyes when a warm hand came across your shoulders.
“Yeah, she’s something alright,” Eddie said, pulling you into his side. “I’m lucky to have her.”
Message clearly received, you shot up a surprised look and let yourself be ushered off stage by a PA. Robin had arrived, standing there with an impressed glint in her eyes.
“Shut up,” you muttered at her.
She held her hands up, her suit moving with her, “I didn’t say anything!”
“Are you okay?” You spun around and almost stumbled into Eddie, his hands coming out to steady you.
“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. I’m sorry – it was instinct. I didn’t mean – I shouldn’t have hit her so hard,” you said, feeling weirdly off kilter.
Eddie scratched the back of his head, a sign you knew was a habit for when he was feeling uncomfortable. “It’s okay. I just, was worried you – uh, for you,” he said, stilted.
“For fuck’s sake,” Robin said, blowing air out of her lips, “you two are so awkward it’s actually painful. You’re not strangers, you were friends at some point, just pop the goddamn elephant you two have in the room and get over it. Nothing about this, screams romance.”
With a dramatic hair flip and a roll of his eyes, Eddie ignored her, shot you another look, and walked off when you’d nodded.
Robin sighed. “Jesus, it’s like we’re in high school all over again. I can’t deal with the tension a second time around Mayfield, I can’t.” She continued to grumble but you kept your eyes on Eddie as he climbed up the sound stage and settled his guitar over his shoulder.
Robin’s words echoed in your mind - you were friends at some point.
Your history with Eddie Munson was a little more complicated than most knew. Eddie had been your friend but he’d been more than your friend. He was your almost.
The first few chords rung through the stage and everyone in the audience went wild. You closed your eyes and bit the inside of your cheek. “Hello New York City! I’m guessing by the sound of that you know what song we’re going to play. Don’t be shy now, sing along!”
Now and then I think of when we were together
Like when you said you felt so happy you could die
Like the best kind of torture, you watched Eddie’s fingers wrap around the mic, his eyes sliding closed.
You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness
Like resignation to the end, always the end
You’d heard the song, because of course you had you didn’t live under a rock. Hearing it live, however, cut a little deeper than your stereo at home. At least at home you could have a drink in hand.
But you didn't have to cut me off
Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing
And I don't even need your love
But you treat me like a stranger, and that feels so rough
Robin’s eyes slid to you and they felt like two honing signals. You didn’t want to watch anything dawn on her – you hadn’t made it this far to fall apart now. Not over a song.
“I’m going to go wait in the green room, okay?” Robin nodded, her eyes following you as you left.
Now you're just somebody that I used to know
///
The flight to Texas had been long and after the day you’d had – you were dead on your feet. But, because the universe didn’t know how ever give you a break, you found yourself doing a sweep of Eddie’s hotel room before herding him inside.
Gareth’s room had needed sudden repairs and while he’d offered up to bunk with Jeff – you’d given him your adjoining room. It was only for a night, his room would be available tomorrow morning, and you knew that being close to the client was never a bad thing.
You’d shower in the morning, unable to think of more than just brushing your teeth and falling face first into your pillow. Especially considering that you had an early wake up call to go take a look at the new venue.
“What are you doing?” Eddie asked, watching you settle into the sofa in the makeshift sitting room. This one was actually big enough that you could use as a bed for the night – it was a step up from the floor.
Not this again. “Munson, I’ll be fine.”
Eddie scowled and you felt your pulse jump. “It’s a California king mattress Mayfield, just get up here.”
“No,” you said, stubbornly.
Sighing, Eddie flopped onto the bed and you thought that would be the end of it until – “We’ve slept in the same bed before. One much smaller than this. In a trailer park. For months. Get your ass up here.”
“Eddie-”
“I saw you twinge. I know your back probably hurts from that defensive tackle.”
Eye twitching at the memories of you curled around Eddie in his small bedroom, you sat up. “What do you know about sports?”
“It’s been ten years,” he said, deadpan.
“Tigers don’t change their stripes.”
“For fuck’s sake – just get up here,” he groaned, flopping back down onto the pillow.
The twinge in your shoulder screamed for the softness of the bed but your mind was telling you this was a bad idea. It didn’t matter that you’d shared beds before – this was still a client.
“I know how to keep my hands to myself,” he said, tone defensive.
“Oh my God,” you scowled, despite knowing that he was playing you. You got up and padded over to the other side of the – admittedly – huge bed. “Fine!”
Grinning Eddie revealed a small heating pad. “I asked the front desk to have one sent up. It helps me with my shoulder too. After a while they get sore from performing so often,” he said, handing it over a little sheepishly.
Completely bowled over and shocked, you reached for it and arranged it onto your sore shoulder. The heat immediately soothed the surface ache and you smiled at him. “Thank you,” you said.
Awkward, and a little embarrassed with your earnest tone, the two of you broke eye contact.
“I’ll shut off the lights,” Eddie mumbled, hauling himself out and returning once the room had gone dark.
Two minutes in you knew there was no way either of you were going to get any sleep with the tension as thick as it was.
Put your big girl pants on, you shouted at yourself. But your tongue felt stuck to the roof of your mouth.
“Robin’s right,” Eddie said, breaking the silence first.
You nodded, despite the fact that you knew he couldn’t see you. “Yeah, we should…talk about it?”
There was a beat of silence before Eddie exhaled. “I wrote that song a long, long time ago. I was in a different head space and of course, it became one of our hits from the debut album.”
Shutting your eyes, you realized you had finally gotten the answer to a question you didn’t know you’d even wanted an answer for.
“It’s okay,” you said, because it was.
Eddie continued, a hand shooting up in the air, illuminated by the soft moonlight. “I just needed a way to cope with your absence and-”
You reached out, touching his hand softly. “You’re a great songwriter, Eddie. I would never hold that against you.”
“Oh,” he breathed, a small sigh coming out after. “Thanks.”
It seemed that even after all these years, you still knew Eddie well enough. “Just ask me,” you said softly into the silence.
“Why?” He asked eventually.
“Why what?”
“Why was I the only one who you avoided? When you left…you said you needed to get out and I tried really hard not to feel like I was being abandoned but, after a few years everyone seemed to reconnect with you. Except for me.”
Turning onto your side to face him, you watched him turn his head towards you – eyes incredibly sad.
“I didn’t, at least not purposefully,” you admitted. “When we left, I hid away. I left my mom and Max and buried myself in school. I became a shell of a person, I-I’m not proud of things I did but I was in survival mode. I started studying to become a psychologist and that was my life for four years. As horrible as it sounds, I didn’t really reach out to everyone else. They found me - they forced me back into being a human. They searched me out and once I was back among the living it felt like it’d been too long to just pick up where we had left off. How did I start to apologize for just leaving like that?”
Eddie smiled sadly at you. “I understand, in a way. We weren’t exactly easy to find either, you in California and me traveling around with the guys. I…I asked Steve once,” he admitted, “I knew you’d given me an abbreviated story about what had happened before ’86. After he told me, I wasn’t as mad, I was just…sad. You really undersold the story in that little shack.”
“I’m not belittling what we’ve been through, what you’ve been through, but Vecna was my fourth round,” you said, breathing unsteady, “so many people died. Barb…she hurt the most. I could tell Billy’s death had cut Max deeper than she was letting on.”
Eddie’s hand came up to yours and you realized you were shaking.
“The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome. I stayed in that town after everything, after Billy, and I know it’s not an excuse but it feels like Hawkins is cursed. I saw you on the floor, in Dustin’s lap, and my world just crumbled.”
His eyes softened. “Sweetheart…”
“We took you to the hospital and I sat there for days going back and forth between your room and Max’s. I just – I couldn’t let that town take anyone else from me. I wouldn’t survive it. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that I let so much time go by before I woke up. I’m sorry I didn’t push my way back into your life like I should’ve.”
Shaking his head, Eddie’s hand squeezed yours. “I’m sorry for not trying harder. For not seeing how deeply you hurt and only focusing on my own.”
Despite your restraint, you felt tears burn your eyes. “We made a mess of it.”
“Yeah, but even messes can be beautiful in their own way.”
Because of course he’d say the right thing. The ice around you two cracked and more pieces fell to the waiting ocean below. Eyes slipping closed, you had a brief burst of relief in your chest.
Which was promptly stomped upon when your alarm jerked you awake a few hours later. Lifting your arm, you patted around the night table until you hit something warm.
“Ouch,” Eddie grunted, “turn it off.”
Lifting your head, confused, last night came back to you in a rush. Glancing down, you realized that the pressure around your waist was Eddie’s arm. You were tucked into his chest, your legs tangled, and head tucked under his chin. The same way you used to when you’d climb in through his window in the trailer park. Like no time had passed. Then you were suddenly aware of another insistent pressure on your waist.
“Turn it off,” Eddie grumbled again, voice muffled by your hair.
“Uh,” you cleared your throat, “I need you to let me go.”
Eddie’s grip tightened before it immediately disappeared and you both flung yourselves to opposite ends of the bed.
“I’m sorry – uh, oh shit,” he tumbled off the bed, popping up awkwardly. “I’m just going – I’m – I need a shower. Right. Okay.”
You watched him scurry into the ensuite and dropped your head back down to the bed, groaning. You knew you should’ve slept on the fucking floor.
So much for less awkward.
///
Robin cornered you both during rehearsals.
“What is this?” She said, smacking a magazine down. There, on a spread in the pages, were you and Eddie looking like you barely knew each other.
TROUBLE IN PARADISE?
“It’s been a week since they’ve known about me,” you huffed, looking through the poor pictures of you. “How could they know? Oh look, it says we’ve been dating for two years. Apparently, sources say you met me at a coffee shop. How quaint.”
Eddie grunted, eyes darting across the pages.
“Yeah, and who the hell is going to believe that with you two looking like you’d rather be dead?” Robin exclaimed.
“That feels like an exaggerated statement, and that’s coming from me,” Eddie said, frowning.
Robin’s hands came out to snatch the magazine from under your noses. You flinched and Eddie’s hand came up to steady you. “We need to stage some shots. You’ll need to go on a date. Something under the radar, cute, ‘they’re just like us’ type of thing.”
“I am technically just like them,” you pointed out to deaf ears. Eddie’s hand squeezed your shoulder and his small smile made your chest tighten.
“Don’t you think that’s a little gross? Staging shots?” Eddie asked.
“That’s how we get ahead of this. We control the narrative. There’s something else too – this was mailed to the office,” Robin said, clearing her throat. She placed a large manila envelope down and you sorted through it.
“Oh!” You said, straightening, “it’s hate-mail!”
Eddie’s brows flew up. “And you’re happy about that?”
“It means we’re doing something right,” you hummed, looking at the crude images and chunks of hair taped to the letter. “Robin might be right. We should do this and see if we aggravate them further.”
“Are you insane?”
You frowned. “It’s how people get caught. They get sloppy and besides you’ll be safe – I’m here all the time,” you assured him. “We haven’t had any incidents so far these past two weeks.”
“That’s true!” Robin said, perking up. “I’ve seen her decapitate an interdimensional superpowered human. Two regular humans should be easy for her.”
The memory of your machete going straight through Vecna’s neck flashed through your mind and you frowned.
“I’m not afraid for me – oh my God, you two are insufferable,” Eddie muttered, walking off towards the audio guy who was waving him down.
“Jeez, what’s up his butt?” You grumbled, looking through the mail and pointedly ignoring Robin’s knowing smile.
///
He hated to admit that Robin was right. Eddie would never actually say it out loud – she’d never let him forget it. But…the photos looked good. Eddie flipped the page and the image of you with your head thrown back making him smile.
“I feel like we should be laughing, isn’t everyone in those tabloids always laughing?”
Eddie snorted. “Did you need me to tell you a joke?”
“I can fake laugh, look,” you chortled, laugh sounding horrendously fake even to his ears. Eddie couldn’t help but actually laugh at your attempt.
“That was bad,” he said between laughter.
You grinned; Jesus did your smile make his heart sing. “Made you laugh though.”
The both of you had agreed to go for ice cream in downtown Dallas. You’d tossed your arms around him, practically touching him at every opportunity, and Eddie wasn’t stupid enough to try and lie about how it made him feel.
In fact, everything about your arrival had him feeling like he’d been turned upside down. It’d been painfully awkward at first, it still was sometimes, but you were both slowly learning how to be around each other again. And Eddie wasn’t sure if that was such a good thing in the long run. Or if he was just setting himself up to be hurt again.
The last photo, one where you were reaching out to wipe the corner of his mouth, made him smile. His eyes were on you and even he could see that you both looked like a couple very much in love.
“They look good,” Gareth said, leaning against the doorframe. Eddie slammed the magazine shut and straightened. “Well now, that wasn’t suspicious at all.”
“Shut up,” Eddie said, rubbing a hand down his face. “It was set up; you know it was.”
“Riiight.”
“Gareth.”
He laughed. “Dude, it’s me. I’ve known you since I was a freshman in high school. You can’t lie to me. I was there when you met her. She was in my class originally remember? She’s my friend too.”
You had been – that’s how he’d met you. Gareth had failed history junior year and his teacher had assigned him you at the beginning of senior year for tutoring. As cliché as it sounded, you had taken one look at him and he was gone. You were so nice to him, to all of his friends, and repeatedly defended anyone in Hellfire against bullies.
Dustin had mentioned you before – Mike usually rode home with you – but he just hadn’t really noticed you. He couldn’t fathom how because it’d taken one offer for you to come out to the Hide Out and your friendship had all but solidified.
There was rarely a day Eddie wasn’t attached to your hip. Sometimes, it’d felt like he was your shadow, following you around like a lost puppy.
He knew he loved you on Halloween. It was a wonder that it took him so long. You’d told him that you loved him on Valentine’s Day. He still had the card you’d handed to him, flustered and shy. His heart felt like it was going to beat out his chest that day.
There were things he didn’t understand - before everything exploded during spring break – like the times you’d sneak into his trailer, tears in your eyes and panic shaking your body. He’d assumed that you just had nightmares after the fire at Starcourt since you had been in there when it burned. You hadn’t like to talk about but, he quickly found out why.
Eddie had tried his best to be comforting, to be a safe space, and for a moment – a brief moment, he’d thought that you were his future.
Then Vecna had stolen that from him too.
In hindsight, he should’ve known better. He’d cut the rope in the trailer that night because he knew you needed time to kill him. He’d done it for you. Because he couldn’t run away when he didn’t know if you were safe or not. Even if that had been what caused you to run after, he didn’t regret it. Not even in the winter when the scars and his joints hurt the most.
But…he missed you. He’d forgotten that. Forgotten how easy it was with you – how much he wanted to breathe you in and follow you around like that lost nineteen-year-old. There were things he knew about you, whether or not they were still true, that he didn’t know what to do with.
Eddie knew that you liked to have tea before bed. He knew that you liked your coffee with an ungodly amount of sugar. That you thought waffles were superior to pancakes. Your order at the diner was etched into his memory, alongside the way you were ticklish on the soft part of your thighs. The fact that you were a good daughter but an even better sister.
He knew the noises you made when he sucked on the sensitive patch of skin on your neck. He knew that you liked to take charge, never one to be bowled over. He knew just how to twist his fingers, where to touch, to get you to scream. He knew that you liked to pull his hair, that it drove you crazy when he tied it up in a bun.
But he also knew that the sounds of your sobs echoed, the ones that haunted his dreams, while he tried to claw his way through the darkness back to you. He knew what you looked like, begging him to forgive you for not being able to stay while he was still attached to monitors at the hospital. He knew that you’d loved him, once upon a time, and that it’d hurt more than he thought possible to have it taken away.
“I’m scared,” Eddie said, thoughts jumbling together, “what if I get used to her being back?”
Gareth nodded. “That could happen.”
“I don’t – I-” Eddie sighed.
“Listen, she ran after those earthquakes and you let her go. This was something that fell apart that you both let fall. You’re adults now – you’re both grown-ups, ugh,” he said, wrinkling his nose at the thought, “you gotta decide on what you want. Once you figure that out, you’ll know what to do. But…don’t jerk her around. She wasn’t doing good for a while and this is the happiest I’ve seen her in a long time. She’s settled now and she deserves to be at peace Eddie, so do you frankly.”
Before Eddie could even think of a response, let alone soak that in, Robin popped her head in the door.
“Hey! You have the magazine! What do you think?”
Eddie stood up and shrugged. “Looks good to me.”
“Right? I’m a genius! We should do a few more once we land in Chicago, to keep up pretenses,” she said, tapping her chin. “We’ve gotten a ton of fan mail for her. A few job opportunities too, apparently people like her style.”
Of course, they did. Because everyone loved you. How could they not?
“Munson? Gareth? We’re ready for you two. We need to do a final sound check.”
Gareth shot him a look and Eddie sighed again. “Let’s do it.”
As the four of them walk towards the stage, Eddie spotted a few of your team members securing the hallways. Smiling at the woman who never went anywhere without her earpiece or clipboard, Eddie wondered how you two had met.
As if summoned, Eddie caught sight of you as you spoke to one of the outsourced security teams. Julian? He faintly remembered you mentioning a second, much larger, security firm lending a hand. You were pointing at the doors to your left and the man nodded, attention solely on you. Eddie could relate. His eyes wandered down, your jeans tightly curving around your hips-
“Eddie!”
Eddie blinked, turning towards Jeff who was staring at him worriedly. “What?” He said, clearing his throat. “Sorry, what’d you say?”
“He asked if you were ready,” Gareth said from his spot behind the drums, fingers twirling a drumstick while his eyes were light with laughter.
Eddie glared at him before nodding at Jeff. “Sorry man, I’m ready. Want to start off from the last song?”
.
Pacing the length of the green room, Eddie tried his best to calm his nerves.
“You alright man?” Jeff asked, eyeing him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this nervous before a concert.”
“Uh,” Eddie said smartly, not sure how to word that he wasn’t really nervous about performing – more like he was nervous about the fact that this was the first night since you’d joined that he’d be performing that song. It was stupid, he was sure you’d heard it before and he’d gotten away with excluding it for the last few concerts but, it was popular enough that it couldn’t be ignored forever.
Gareth snorted at his indecision. “She’s never heard him sing Got Away,” Gareth said. Eddie whipped his head around and Gareth rolled his eyes. “Dude, they were there while you two pretended not to be obsessed with each other. They’re here now while you two awkwardly try to pretend like you’re not staring at the other. We’re metalheads, not blind.”
Jeff rolled his eyes. “Anyone can see you both have it bad for each other.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eddie said.
“Sure,” Liam said, chuckling from his place on the couch, “and I’m Ozzy Osbourne.”
Eddie stood up, feeling overstimulated and overwhelmed. “For my own sanity, just for this performance, can we please drop it?”
Jeff, ever the mediator, nodded but Eddie watched Gareth quirk a brow and shake his head. “The more you ignore it, the worst it’s going to be later.”
“I’m sure she’s heard it anyway,” Liam said, “at this point she’s gotta know you wrote most of that album about her anyway. Most of downtown Hawkins knows.”
“Jesus, remember the songs that fall?” Gareth snorted. “He made that girl in the audience cry.”
Eddie hated how well his bandmates knew him sometimes.
The PA from earlier knocked on the door. “We’re ready for you guys!”
Jumping at the chance, Eddie hurried out the door. He shook his arms out, hooking his guitar around his chest and nodded. It was just another concert.
The sound of fans chanting made him smile. Grabbing the mic handed to him by the audio guy, he caught sight of you on the other end of the stage. You waved, giving him a thumbs up and Eddie hated the fact that it did something to his chest. He shot you a smile before bringing the mic up to his lips.
“Hello Dallas!”
The roar of the crowd drowned out all his thoughts. The curtains dropped, the audience screamed louder, and Eddie reveled in the energy.
“We’re going to start you off with a crowd favorite, is that alright?”
Glancing back at Gareth, he nodded once before raising his drumsticks into the air.
At the first chords, the crowd went wild. Focusing on the audience, Eddie managed to keep his eyes forward, and voice steady for most of the song.
We'd keep all our promises, be us against the world
In another life, I would make you stay
So I don't have to say you were the one that got away
The one that got away
As the bridge approached, Eddie couldn’t help but give into his urge, eyes swinging around to you. He wasn’t prepared for the way you were already looking at him, eyes wide and awed. Your hands were intertwined, pressed up against your chin. At the sight of his glance, you smiled a small little sad thing that had his own heart stuttering.
All this money can't buy me a time machine, no
Can't replace you with a million rings, no
I should've told you what you meant to me, whoa
'Cause now I pay the price
Dragging his eyes back to the crowd, ignoring the pang in his chest, he let the last chorus fade and picked right back up with the next song.
///
You were mildly embarrassed at how quickly, and in such a short amount of time, you got used to being in Eddie’s presence again. You might even go so far as to say that in the rare moment you found yourself without him, you felt a little off.
It was mortifying really. You were a professional and all it took was one assignment to ruin your spotless record. Just barely four weeks into this detail and you were incredibly used to him being the first person you saw in the mornings and the last before bed.
In your incredibly weak defense, there was something intimate about being part of someone’s daily routine. It’s something you taught everyone who joined the firm. There’s bound to be a connection to the people you’re protecting. No matter how short the time, it’s only human to grow attached. It’s a major factor into why your clientele was so loyal. Most of your jobs were reoccurring or past clients. You’d created a bond with all of yours, and you’d hoped – desperately – that it wouldn’t happen here. Honestly, you should’ve known better.
“Is this necessary? We were just here,” Eddie said, yawning from the door.
You got down on your knees and lifted the bed skirt. Flashing your light, you confirmed that the room was clear. When you didn’t immediately hear Eddie’s footsteps, you turned to glance at him from over your shoulder. He shuffled in, eyes on the ground, cheeks pink.
“Fucking hell, is it only eight? Why am I so tired?” Eddie groaned, flopping onto his bed. You perched yourself at the furthest edge, massaging your bad knee and rolling your eyes.
“Because you’re nearly thirty and traveling across the country is exhausting?”
Eddie lifted his head and glared at you. “Don’t you ever mention my descent into death again.”
You laughed and shook your head. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly dramatic?”
“Once, a girl I knew from high school,” he joked when you shot him a look. “She was wrong, obviously. I’m a completely rational person. If anything, I underreact.”
“Wow,” you said, deadpan.
“What?”
“I’ve never met someone so delusional – oomph,” you grunted as a small pillow hit your shoulder.
Eddie groaned as he sat up. “I’m hungry,” he grumbled, reaching out to check the messages on the hotel phone.
“Me too,” you chimed, already thinking of places you could order from. Eddie seemed fond of the burgers from yesterday. They’d also been cleared by Michaels and Yang as a safe spot to order from for the duration of your stay.
“Robin says we’re all cleared for the night,” Eddie stood suddenly, letting the phone drop back down to the receiver. “I say we go out for dinner.”
“What?” You balked. “We have an early call time; I think our flight is at eight to Chicago.”
Eddie rounded the bed, placing his hands on his knees and bending down to your height. “Come on Mayfield, live a little.”
“It’s not safe – I’d need another person with me. Maybe Johnson is still awake? Maybe a man would look better? What if you’re recognized-” Eddie lifted a hand, his eyes going wide and pleading.
“Come on, boss, live a little. We’ll go somewhere nearby. I’ll wear a disguise! Look,” he said, pointing to the hotel’s massive windows. “The beach is right there! We haven’t, and won’t, get a chance to see it if we don’t go now.”
“We never get the chance to see anything in any city,” you said, brows raising. “It’s just a beach.”
“Mayfield.”
Feeling yourself give a little, you sighed. “What kind of disguise?”
Eddie grinned, one that you knew meant he knew that he was winning you over. “We’re in Miami, trust me – it’s easier to hide in a bigger city.” He hesitated for a moment before gathering his curls into a ponytail, wrapping it around the base, a high bun sat at the top of his head.
Something incredibly close to butterflies, but felt more like velociraptors, roared away in your stomach. Shit, you’d forgotten how good he looked with his hair up. Eddie glanced at you quickly before stuffing his hair under a baseball cap. Pushing a pair of sunglasses onto his face, he opened his arms and did a twirl.
“It’s night out, only weirdos wear sunglasses at night,” you said, laughing when he snorted.
“It’s Miami.”
You laughed. “Alright, fine, you win. I’m bringing back-up though,” you said, going to the safe and grabbing your handgun.
“Do you really need to bring that?” Eddie frowned.
“Eddie, I’m here for your protection,” you stressed, not liking it either. “There are literal deranged fanatics trying to kill you.”
He sighed but relented as you placed it in its holder and pulled a hoodie over it. “What if they just want an autograph? They could be completely rational people.”
“Someone sent me a package last week that we had to scan for explosives, Edward,” you said, opening the door.
Shrugging, he relented. “You know, sometimes you’re right.”
“Sometimes? More like all the times. Hey, no detours, okay?”
Eddie crossed his heart and held up four fingers. “Scout’s honor!”
“You were never a scout and they use their right hand to salute. It’s also three fingers not four,” you said, watching Eddie smirk as the elevator took you both down to the lobby.
Skin itching at the busy streets, you kept alert and vigilant. Eddie’s elbow bumped into yours and you frowned. “Come on, loosen up a little, we’re fine,” Eddie said, tugging his hat on lower.
“For now,” you muttered, sticking your hands into your pockets.
“You’re just a ray of sunshine,” Eddie said, leading you towards the pizzeria at the corner. “Has anyone told you that?”
Raising a brow, you watched him hold the door open for a couple and ushered you in. “You know what I do for a living, right?”
“One cheese pie to go please,” Eddie said, placing a few bills on the counter.
“To go?” You said. “Thought you wanted to live a little?”
Eddie smiled at your imitation of him. “We are, we’re gonna eat on the boardwalk.”
“Eddie,” you groaned. At least a restaurant had less variables you needed to watch over.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he said, thanking the cashier as he handed over the pizza box, “we’re going.”
The beach was visible from the pizzeria. You could smell the saltwater – hear the ocean crashing into the shore. “Eddie-”
“Oh, come on,” he said, grabbing your hand and tugging you forward. Your skin tingled and at the sight of a few people eyeing Eddie curiously, you intertwined your fingers together. He blinked down at your hands, shooting you a surprised look. Darting your eyes to the attention you were getting; Eddie nodded and pulled your joined hands closer as he pulled you under his arm.
This close to him, your sides bumping as you walked, you got hit face first with his scent. It hadn’t changed much since you’d last been this close to him. Woodsy, a bit minty, and something uniquely Eddie.
Smoke, you realized, he didn’t smell like cigarettes anymore. Now that you realized, you hadn’t seen him smoke at all.
“Did you quit smoking?” You asked.
Eddie smiled. “I was wondering when you’d ask,” he said, “yeah, a long time ago now. When we still lived in Hawkins.”
“Really,” you said, raising your brows. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks,” he said, sitting down cross-legged on the wooden bench facing the water. Despite the crowded streets, it seemed that the beach was mostly empty. A couple to the far left were walking away from you, two little specks in the distance. “Since you asked a question, do I get to ask one back?”
You picked up your slice and nodded. “Twenty questions?” You asked around a mouthful.
Eddie nodded, swallowing his own bite. “Do you still talk to everyone from home?”
“I didn’t have many friends outside the party,” you said, surprised that that was his first question. “Not after Will disappeared. I – I don’t regularly keep up with most of our friends either. Robin, Steve and I have a weekly phone call where I mostly listen to them bicker-” Eddie laughed and nodded.
“That sounds like them.”
You shrugged. “Aside from El, Max, and Lucas – I don’t speak to anyone else that often. Hopper, obviously, but Will is off doing his own things. Being adults,” you said, shooting him a look, “Will’s stuff is beautiful. I managed to catch his last gallery and he sent me my favorite piece in the mail. It hangs in my living room and I love it.”
“Yeah,” Eddie said, looking out to the ocean. “He’s really good.”
“Dustin is busy being a literal genius and Mike, well, is-”
“-usually around me?” He finished for you.
Smiling sheepishly, you nodded. “Gareth is the only one I called semi-regularly. He sends me postcards from wherever you guys are, you know?”
“I didn’t, the little shit,” he said, frowning. “I guess it’s nice to know that I’m not the only one.”
“The only one what?”
“The only one left out,” he said with a self-deprecating smile that just about broke your heart. Before you the shards could surface, Eddie stood and dusted the crumbs off his shirt. “Want to take a walk?”
Lump in your throat growing, you nodded.
“It’s your turn,” he said, tucking his hands into his pockets. With a quick glance around, you slipped your flats off and let your toes dig into the sand. Feeling a little more calibrated, you let your gaze fall to the push and pull of the ocean.
“When did you know things were changing for the better with the band?” You asked, betraying the tiny piece of you that craved answers and the small details of the time you’d missed.
Eddie smiled. “The first time someone recognized me on the street. We’d been doing a lot of opening acts for moderately known bands on tour. We generated enough interest that we started working on a debut album. I was writing a ton and our label decided to give us a very tentative shot. We were out for some food and this guy tapped me on the shoulder and asked me if I was Eddie Munson from Corroded Coffin.” Eddie mimed his head exploding and you grin.
“I would’ve paid to have seen your face,” you said, bumping your elbow with his, “you guys deserve it.”
“Thanks,” he said, ducking his head like he wasn’t an international rockstar at this point. “How did you get into security? Last I remember, you wanted to be a teacher but you studied psychology?”
You shrugged, memories bubbling to the surface. “I think Hopper just found me at the right time. I was so…angry all the time. I’d shifted from sad to just pissed off – even Max steered clear of me for a while. I needed an outlet, so my roommate pushed me to tag along to her self-defense class. It was Krav Maga and I learned how to take someone down that day. It felt exhilarating.”
Eddie snickered. “Only you’d get excited about violence sweetheart.”
“Shut up,” you said, flustered, “the point is, I’d started picking up a few things and the instructor asked if I’d ever considered Judo. I said no, I didn’t really have the time, but I went to a class once a week for a year. I think, I was just fed up with feeling helpless. I’d watched so many of our friends fight for their lives, I wanted to feel like…well, like I had some sort of control I guess.”
“That makes sense, given the circumstances,” Eddie said, looking pensive. “Wanting control in a situation where you felt like you had none.”
“Exactly!” You said, smacking his shoulder excitedly. Eddie shot you a grin and you stumbled. “Well, Hopper found me right as I was graduating. He’d just started his company and needed help. I went from a class a week to four a week and a boatload of training. I helped scout some people and it went off from there.”
Eddie smiled at you, the moonlight casting a shimmer to his skin. “Who would’ve thought, Mayfield, a professional ass-kicker,” you shoved him and he laughed, the sound shooting down your spine. “It suits you though, you look happy.”
“I am,” you said, shrugging, “at least with my career. I’ve been in some tight situations but the people I’ve saved or protected, they’re all great people. It’s thrilling really.”
“I can imagine.”
A question bounced around your mind, reminiscent of an old conversation with Steve, and you pushed yourself to ask. “Who was your first after…after I left?”
Eddie stumbled and you instinctively reached out to steady him. “Jeez, Mayfield, you really choose the hard hitters.”
Mortified, you straightened. “Sorry, you don’t have to-”
“No, no, it’s fine. We…we were friends for longer than we were anything else. Even after everything, after all the years, you can always ask me anything. Time and complicated feelings don’t change the fact that we were friends. We are friends.”
“Yeah?” You asked, both embarrassed at the earnest tone in your voice and pleased.
And for the first time since you’d seen each other, without any cameras present, Eddie pulled you into his arms. He hooked his chin over your shoulder and exhaled. “Yeah. We might be the weirdest, most complicated friends to exist, but what we went through was too strong to be destroyed by something as finnicky as time.”
Embarrassed by the sudden pressure behind your eyes, you squeezed Eddie tightly. “I’m sorry, Eddie.” You wondered if the words would ever be enough.
“I’m sorry too.” After a minute, you both stepped back and continued walking forward. “And to answer your question – her name was Emily. She was, predictably, your complete opposite. It took a while but she was good for me.”
“What happened?” You asked.
Eddie shrugged, a flicker of regret flashing through his expression. “A whole mix of things. Our schedule was starting to pick up and in the early days we had to go where the shows were. You know how that goes, so much time away – she couldn’t always come with, and I don’t know. We just fell apart. Can I tell you a secret though?”
“Always.”
“I was going to propose the week we broke up,” Eddie laughed and you stared at him incredulously. “No, really. It’s crazy how a week can change your entire life. Well, I learned that years ago but, it’s old news by now.”
“That sucks,” you sighed, surprised by the complete lack of jealousy you felt. It really did suck; you’d gone through enough break ups to know they always hurt.
“What about you?”
You bit back a smile. “What about me?”
Eddie groaned and waved a hand in the air. “Come on, don’t make me drag it out of you.”
“Alright, alright,” you said, glancing back out to the water, “I…didn’t really have one serious relationship. Robin says she thinks I run from commitment but it’s deeper than that. I have a whole chunk of myself that’s permanently changed because of what I’ve been through. How do you cultivate something without sharing that?”
“You should, you know, share it,” Eddie said.
“I know but, no one felt right,” you sighed. “Steve’s favorite is this financial guy I dated for three months. He actually proposed to me.”
Eddie sputtered; expression shocked. “After three months? Did he even know you?”
“Hey!”
“Mayfield, we met the first week of our senior year and it took us almost the entire year to confess that we liked each other,” Eddie said, laughing when you balked.
“Yeah, and I was the one who confessed first! You don’t get any credit for that!”
Hands out, placating, he agreed. “You’re right, you’re right – sorry, continue.”
Stopping at a nearby boulder, Eddie plopped down and you followed suit. “It’s your turn,” you said softly, not wanting to break the easy mood you both had created.
“I promised myself I wouldn’t ever ask you this,” Eddie said, mouth twisting, “but it’s been eating at me. Why didn’t you ask me to come with you?”
The familiar inky grip of guilt tightened in your chest and you struggled to breathe through it. “Because Wayne was in Hawkins. He had a really good job there and everyone else stayed behind. The kids still finished out school, Robin went to college nearby, you needed that. Look, it took me years of therapy to realize this but, you needed to heal through your support system. They were there, in Hawkins. I needed to heal by finally creating distance. If you would’ve asked me to stay, I would’ve,” the admission was torn from your mouth before you could stop it.
Eddie’s surprise eclipsed his face. At his silence, you swallowed around the lump in your throat.
“I would’ve ended up resenting you for it. My sister almost died. She still has a limp, you know? She tries to hide it but I know her bones ache and there are scars that time won’t ever heal. We all have ghosts but I couldn’t keep living in the same house as mine. I knew you deserved more than a broken girl who would’ve turned into a broken woman.”
“I think I knew that on some level, it was just always easier to be the wounded one,” Eddie admitted.
“I don’t blame you for however you needed to cope,” you said, reaching out for his hand, “we do what we need to, to survive. Eventually though, life needs to be more than just surviving and you’re doing that.”
Eddie’s fingers trailed across your palm, tickling your skin and you sighed. “You do have the makings of a good shrink you know.”
“I know,” you said, laughing when he shot you a look. “Tell me a secret.”
“That’s not a question.”
“Will you tell me a secret?”
He huffed a soft laugh and nodded. “I kept the card you gave me that Valentine’s Day,” he whispered, his words almost drowned out by the waves, “it’s in my apartment in New York but, it’s in a box next to my diploma and other important stuff. I couldn’t bring myself to throw it out.” Pulling one of his hands from yours, he pulled one of his necklaces out from under his collar and your eyes zeroed in on the red guitar pick.
“I can’t believe you still have that,” you said, fingers reaching out to touch the warm plastic. Eddie’s inhale was sharp and you immediately brought your hand back.
“I wear it on the days I feel like I need an extra bit of courage,” he admitted.
You smiled, a little confused. “What?”
“Don’t you know?” Eddie asked, tilting his head back, eyes knowing. “You’re the bravest person I know, Mayfield.” The wind blew his bangs around his temples, the hair whipping from beneath the cap. “I wear it when I feel like I need to borrow some of that bravery.”
The intimacy of the admission made you shiver. Your skin brimming to the edge with the words, Eddie’s eyes betraying his accidental vulnerability.
Not one to be outdone, you tried to even the playing field. “I kept one of your Hellfire t-shirts. I wear it when I need comfort. It’s soft as shit and reminds me of happier times. My neighbor even knows I wear it when I feel like crap. It just…helps after one of those days where just about everything goes wrong, you know?”
“Yeah, boss, I know,” he said, gazes catching. Something you couldn’t decipher shifted in his eyes and you felt those damn velociraptors flutter awake. “We’re a mess,” he said, repeating your words from that second night.
“We’re definitely something,” you said, smiling when he snorted. You both watched the water for a few minutes, the line between ocean and sky blurred.
“We…we could’ve had something right? It wasn’t just me? I think about it sometimes, get lost in my own head about whether I’ve imagined our connection. If the depth of us was just one-sided or if we ever really had anything at all.”
Your chest hurt at the sound of his voice wavering, but you kept your eyes on the missing horizon as you answered. “Yeah. We could’ve. We’re an almost and those hurt more than tangible things sometimes. Because you know that if it had the right environment, it would’ve bloomed into the best flower out of the bunch. And you…you, Eddie Munson, are the best, most painful kind of almost.”
“That’s a new one,” Eddie said, eyes burning into you. “I went to see you once. At the California office.”
“What?” You said, shocked.
“You weren’t there. You were on some assignment in New York, ironically. Hopper said it was for some pianist?”
Ah, George Shearing.
“I saw Max though – she’d just started college and swore she could teach me to surf in weekend,” he laughed, stuck in the memory, “I told her not to tell you. I took it as a sign – we could only try so many times, you know?”
You hadn’t known that he’d tried to see you – that if you’d only just delayed that trip for a week you would have.
“Are those songs about me? I don’t want to be that girl who assumes but, I’d always wondered,” you admitted, not able to bring yourself to look at him.
In your peripheral, you watched Eddie smile with a relieved sort of expression. “All my good songs are about you, Mayfield. How could they not be? You’re seared into my memory, into who I am now.” He stood after that, dusting his pants off, and offered his hand. “If we’re an almost, then you’re my favorite almost.”
Taking the offered hand, you let him haul you back to your feet. “You’re my favorite almost, too.”
Eddie grinned, the unhindered, wild grin that you remembered. “It seems we’ve made a habit of having all our serious conversations by a beach,” he said.
Where the hell was he? You frowned, checking the time. Digging your toes further into the sand, you sighed and watched the lake ripple as a duck landed onto the surface. A flash of bright lights had you scrambling to your feet.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” Eddie said, tripping out his van. “I – had a shift at the shop run late, someone brought their shitty mustang in and then I was trying to find any store that was open, but of course none were, I mean - whatever, it doesn’t matter.”
Confused at the speed of his words, you watched him walk over to you. “Eddie?”
“Yeah, sorry. I got your, uh, gift,” Eddie said, words stumbling over each other. You heart leapt into your throat and your eyes immediately dropped to your feet.
“And?”
A soft finger at your chin tilted your face back up to his. His eyes were molten in the moonlight, wide and curious. “Did you mean it?”
“Mean what?”
Eddie smiled half-heartedly, recognizing your teasing. “Are you going to make me say it?”
Nodding, you bit the inside of your cheek and tried to drudge up every bit of your courage.
“Do you…do you really love me?” Eddie’s voice cracked and your stomach fluttered dangerously at it.
“Yeah, I think I have for a while now,” you admitted. “I know we haven’t been friends for as long as you and the guys have – honestly, I don’t know how we never noticed each other before senior year. I-I don’t know when it changed, only that it did.”
Eddie’s thumb traced your bottom lip and his gaze deepened. Squaring your shoulders, you inhaled. “I love you, Eddie.”
His answering smile crashed into you like waves onto the shore. “I love you too, sweetheart.”
Elated, you brought your hands up to his wrists. “Really?” You breathed.
His eyes darted between yours, eyelashes kissing his cheeks. “Yes,” he whispered right before pressing your lips to his.
Shaking your head, clearing the memory from the front of your mind, you dusted sand off your clothes. “Come on, we both need to wash off this sand and we still have that early call time,” you said, nudging him forward.
“This sand?” He asked.
You turned to look at him at the same moment he kicked some up at your legs. You gaped. “Did you just-” you sputtered as he kicked up more sand towards you. Without waiting for your response, he cackled and darted up towards the boardwalk.
“Come back here you shithead!” You screamed, laughing as you chased him back up the beach.
///
“You, Robin, and Dustin could really rule the world, you know,” Eddie said from the sofa in his hotel room, where he was gazing at you lazily.
Rain pelted the thick glass to your left, the curtains pulled open so that you could both watch in fascination as the sudden tropical storm wreaked havoc against the river in downtown Chicago.
Smiling, you glanced around at his dark hotel room – the glow sticks and lanterns from your emergency kit casting a warm low light against the walls. You’d all barely returned from another rehearsal and security walkthrough when the lights had suddenly cut out. It’d taken you ten seconds to slam the adjoining door open and run towards Eddie, who had been face planted into his bed and half asleep.
Immediately calling Robin, you both figured out that the power was out to whole hotel. Julian’s team had reached out to assure you that the floors had been cleared, your and Dustin’s protocol followed down to the smallest instruction, and confirmed that it was a city-wide issue. The ETA for the power being back on was two hours. The hotel generator was only managing to keep common areas on, and the elevators, and anyone was welcome downstairs for some light and free food.
“Don’t you forget it,” you said, pointing to him, the phone still cradled between your shoulder and your ear.
The receptionist tinny voice echoed in your ear. “Ms. Mayfield? Yes, apologies for the wait. Your food delivery is in the lobby. Would you like us to receive it and bill the room?”
“No, thank you,” you answered, “I’ll be right down. Tell him I’ll just be a minute!”
“Of course.”
Grabbing your wallet, you pointed at the door. “Lock it behind me and do not open-”
“-the door for anyone that isn’t you, I know,” he said, propping his chin onto his hand. “I’m going to hop in for a quick shower anyway. Just take my key.”
Ignoring him, a thought suddenly came to mind. “I should probably call and check on the venue, see if there’s any damage,” you mused to yourself, reaching out for paper to write that down.
“Or,” Eddie called out, “you let the storm blow over, relax for a minute, and check on them in the morning.”
Grumbling at his laughter, you made your way downstairs.
The deliveryman gaped at you, soaked to the bone, as you handed him a generous tip. “Are you sure?” He sputtered, looking barely out of high school.
“Be safe, okay?” You said, turning to share a smile with the receptionist sitting close by. She placed the pack of cards on the table, next to monopoly, and you smiled. “Thank you!”
“No problem Ms. Mayfield. If you need anything else, please let us know.”
You waited a fair bit for the only working elevator, the attendant apologizing every few minutes. Waving away his apology, you offered him a spring roll from the massive takeout bag. Surprised, he shook his head, but smiled at your offer. Taking a bite out of your own, you smiled at a few kids running out and towards the sitting room behind you.
“Ow, hot, hot,” you grimaced as you accidentally shifted the bag in your arms too far. Dropping the rest of your spring roll into the bag, you wiped your hands on your pants and pulled out the key card.
Throwing the door open with your foot, you took another bite of your spring roll before placing the bag down on the low coffee table. “Food’s here!” You shouted, eyes catching on the video you’d both wanted to watch after dinner. Shit. “We’re going to have to return the movie and hope they’ve got a Family Video or something by the hotel. I really wanted to watch this one-” choking around your mouthful, you blinked as Eddie emerged from the bathroom.
The white towel hung low around his hips and you became intoxicated with the rivulets of water that sped down his chest from his hair. Swallowing around the sudden lump in your throat, it wasn’t the surprising clear definition of his muscles, or the hair – Jesus Christ on a stick the hair – that caught your attention. It was the scars that were littered across his chest.
The pale, jagged, lines most notable on his ribs and across his hip. And as if against your will, your eyes started to well up. You’d seen Eddie shirtless a few times before…before and seeing him after just reminded you of how close he’d been to death. You’d held the skin together on the one around his ribs, your jacket pressed against his wounds.
“Eddie, open your eyes – keep your eyes on me! Eddie! Sweetheart, please, please, don’t leave me too, you can’t! Nance, the blood – the blood-”
“Mayfield?” Eddie’s confused eyes swam into your blurred vision, crossing the room to stand by you. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Wordlessly, you reached out a hand and trailed a finger across a small scar by his collarbone. Shivering, Eddie froze in place. “Oh,” he said, glancing down at himself as if he’d forgotten he was half-naked. “Yeah, you haven’t – you didn’t see them before. Aren’t they something?”
“You’re beautiful Eddie, with and without them,” you said adamantly, surprised by your own tone. It didn’t matter in the end, because you couldn’t live in a world where Eddie didn’t know that he deserved the world.
His warm, ringless, hand hesitated before cradling your cheek. “Why are you crying?” He asked, this thumb catching the tear that had managed to escape.
“I don’t know,” you said, tentatively placing your palm on his side. He inhaled sharply, eyes fluttering for a moment before settling back on you. “I was so mad at you. When I saw you lying in Dustin’s lap, I was so mad and so scared…”
“I’m okay,” he said, ducking to catch your gaze. “Hey, I’m okay. I’m like a cockroach. Some ol’ demon isn’t going to get me.”
You half-smiled at him and his ridiculous brow wiggle.
“I’m pretty sure you’re the one who kept this one together,” Eddie said, voicing your thoughts, pointing at where your hand rested. “I never said thanks for that, you know.”
Shaking your head, you found yourself ducking down. The only explanation you had was the fact that a ghost must have possessed you because, before you knew it, you had pressed your lips to the large scar.
As you straightened, Eddie’s grip on your arm tightened, his shoulders trembling. You darted your eyes up to his, about to apologize for your temporary insanity, when your mouth dried.
His eyes were heated, a look that shot directly to your chest and traveled down to your belly. Toes curling in your sneakers, you swallowed thickly. Your tongue darted out in a desperate attempt to wet your lips but as his eyes followed the motion, your mind went fuzzy.
Both of you swayed forward and you realized he was close enough that you could see the faint lines around his eyes. You gazed at him, categorizing the subtle differences ten years made and nearly smiled when you saw the two familiar small freckles at his neck.
“These were always my favorite,” you whispered, a confession meant to be kept to yourself. Suddenly, a memory of you worrying them between your teeth flashed through your mind and you brought your eyes back up to his. You watched, fascinated, as his Adam’s apple bobbed once.
“Sweetheart,” he said, voice an absolute wreck, as his hand fell to his side, “you’re killing me.”
Cupping his jaw, thumb caressing his cheek, you jumped when his hand came up to your wrist. He kept your hand there, his eyes darkening, and you felt your breathing turn shallow. Jesus, you wanted to rake your hands through the hair in his chest so badly you were practically salivating.
The silence of the room was suffocating, you wanted to crawl out your skin. His eyes branded you as they darted across your face, as if memorizing you, and you bit the inside of your lip.
Both of you swayed again, inching closer.
Then, suddenly enough to startle you, the lights in the room flickered on. The electricity in the building seemed to hum in unison for a moment, before settling.
What the fuck were you doing?
You blinked, realizing just how close you’d gotten, and you jumped back. Wrapping your arms around yourself like armor, you kept your eyes on the floor and shook your head. “I-I’m so sorry. I, uh, the food’s on the table. I’m not – I’m going to go back to my room.” Without waiting for a reply, you turned on your heel and started for the adjoining door.
Quick footsteps and a hand wrapping itself around your wrist stopped you. Closing your eyes for a moment, you begged yourself to stay professional before turning to Eddie.
“The food,” he said, after a beat of silence, “you didn’t eat.”
Shit. “Right, uh, I’ll just grab my-”
“And the power is back on, so we can watch that movie you wanted,” he said, hand dropping from yours. You watched him rub his neck and you realized he was actually nervous. Eddie Munson was awkwardly nervous.
Stunned, you blinked at him.
“We both have a late start tomorrow, for the first time this entire tour,” he said taking a few steps back towards the bathroom. “Besides, you owe me.”
Indignation flashed through you. “What?” You sputtered, awkwardness falling away. “How the hell do I owe you? I’m the one who kept that crazy fan off you this morning.” You crossed your arms.
Eddie beamed, shaking off his own uncertainty, and shrugged. “You just do. Get the movie on, Mayfield. I’ll be…right back,” he said, grabbing a change of clothes and you absolutely did not watch his shoulder blades shift in fascination as he walked away.
Grabbing the food out the bag, you settled on the couch, crossing your legs. What the fuck was that? You asked yourself, barely resisting the urge to rub a hand down your face. For fuck’s sake, you kissed his chest. Had you actually lost your mind?
It didn’t look like he’d minded, your mind supplied unhelpfully.
Shut up, you told it.
But the damage was done, your mind was reeling, and you realized it hadn’t looked like he minded. In fact, it looked like he’d been leaning down-
“You better not have eaten all the spring rolls,” Eddie said, grabbing the remote and flipping the lights off. He flopped down onto the cushion next to yours and you quirked your brow. “What? No one watches movies with the lights on, Mayfield.”
Shooting him a look he ignored, you smiled when he placed another spring roll into your container. The opening credits started and you laughed as Eddie ran commentary, as always.
After quickly eating most the food, you both sunk into the cushions comfortably. Halfway through the film, you felt his hand come up to yours. He nudged you and you blinked up at him, confused. He nudged you again and you let him intertwine your fingers. Eddie’s answering smile warmed you.
Without overthinking, you let your head come down to Eddie’s shoulder.
The character on screen pressed a kiss to her daughter’s head as she ran out the door. You weren’t sure when you’d forgotten how easy it was to just…exist with Eddie. The way he radiated sunshine and how its rays warmed you from the inside out. You didn’t know how you’d existed without it for so long. It was easy to forget when you didn’t have it within your grasp, but now that you did – you didn’t think wanted to let it go.
///
“Hey!” Robin said as you opened the door to your hotel. She was dressed in an incredibly tailored suit and you let out a low whistle. She waved a hand, giving you a knowing grin. “I look good, right?”
“So humble too,” you teased, letting her in. “You’re early.”
She shrugged, draping herself across your unmade bed. “I got ready quicker than I needed to. Thought I’d come down and bother my favorite person in the hotel.”
“I’m telling Eddie you said that,” you joked.
Robin’s brows wiggled. “Talking about Eddie…”
You groaned, clasping the necklace you’d bought in Chicago around your neck. “Robin, please.”
“I can’t help but notice that you two have been getting along recently.”
“We’re friends.”
“Right, and friends always check out the other’s rack when they think no one is looking?” Robin asked, propping herself up on her elbow.
Hands stumbling, you dropped one of your converse onto the floor. “Jesus Christ Buckley, why don’t you just scream it?”
“Scream what?” A second voice asked. You jumped, shrieking when you saw Gareth leaning against the doorframe of the connecting door.
“Gareth!” You said, chucking a brush at him. “What have we said?”
He sighed. “It’s not smart to scare you because you could karate chop my head off my shoulders,” he said, pouting like a ten-year-old.
“Don’t worry Gareth, we were just talking about how close her and Eddie seemed to have gotten this past week,” Robin said, glint in her eyes. You closed your eyes, reminding yourself that you’d eventually miss Robin if you killed her.
“I have a bet going with the rest of the guys,” Gareth whispered loudly, “Jeff’s winning.”
“Excuse me?” You sputtered.
Gareth shrugged. “I thought the two of you were braver than you are.”
“I-I-” Words failed, really they did. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“No? Considering earlier today at breakfast you came in from working out and Gareth had to practically reattach Eddie’s jaw back to his face after seeing you in a sports bra.”
“Plenty of people wear sports bras to work out!” You said defensively.
Snorting, Robin nodded. “I know, you’re just the only one he’s got eyes for.”
You felt yourself grow flustered, not able to really handle anymore. You’d known that things had shifted after that night. You’d spent the last four days going over it in your mind. You were both playing with fire and you wanted to be sure that – if anything shifted – you wanted this. You’d already left a town of people behind; you weren’t going to make the same mistake twice.
Unfortunately, you hadn’t gotten any closer to an answer, to any type of resolution to all of this. But it seemed to help that Eddie sounded just as confused.
What didn’t help was that you could practically feel his eyes on you, like a physical touch, and you couldn’t exactly keep your own eyes to yourself. Something had changed, or changed back, and you didn’t know what to do with that.
Gareth and Mike had already separately brought it up and you were mortified. Robin, as always, took great pleasure in fucking with you.
Saving you, the hotel phone rang and you dove for it. “Hello?”
“Good evening, Ms. Mayfield,” the receptionist greeted. “I’m calling to inform you that your party has started to arrive.”
“Thank you, we’ll be right down,” you said, hanging up the phone. “Everyone’s starting to arrive.”
You’d landed in Indianapolis early morning and had spent all day prepping as usual. Robin, like the mastermind she was, had managed to reserve a private room in the popular restaurant downstairs. She’d all but blackmailed the party into flying out for the concert tomorrow.
“Eddie,” you called out, “everyone’s downstairs!”
“Coming!” He answered, his head popping through the doorframe a minute later. His eyes found yours first, as always. “You look great.”
Opening your mouth – Robin beat you to it. “Thanks Munson,” she said, swinging an arm around his shoulders. You watched as a blush crawled up from his neck.
Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your bag and opened the door. “Come on, Dustin and Lucas will eat through the entire restaurant if we don’t hurry up.”
“I’m telling him you said that,” Gareth said.
Without much maneuvering, you had him a headlock the entire ride down. Robin and Eddie laughed as you walked out into the lobby with him still in your grasp.
“I’m going to pass out,” he complained, his hands reaching out to tickle your sides.
Jumping away, you growled. “That’s cheating!”
Dramatically gasping for air, he ran a hand through his hair and glared.
“Watch yourself, that’s my sister you’re scowling at,” a voice called out behind you both. Whipping your head around, you found the familiar red hair and freckled face. Not wasting a second, you ran towards her.
Slamming into each other, you wrapped your arms tightly around her small frame. The smell of her shampoo surrounded you and you felt yourself ease. “Hey Mad Max,” you whispered, leaning back to get a good look at her.
It’d only been four months since you’d seen her last, but you always felt like a piece of you slotted into place when you did.
“Hey boss,” she teased, laughing when you peppered her cheek with kisses. She squealed, the sound making you grin and you ruffled her hair. “Where’s- oomph.”
A blur of blue slammed into your side and you kept a hand on Max’s shoulder for balance. El’s wide smile beamed up at you and you grinned. “Ellie,” you said, laughing when your silly nickname caused her smile to widen. “I haven’t seen you since Christmas,” you said, wrapping your arms around her small waist and lifting her up off the ground. She laughed, the sound filling you with warmth. If anyone deserved complete unrestrained happiness, it was Eleven.
“I missed you,” she said, squeezing you once before letting you go.
“I missed you too.”
Another voice joined. “Why don’t I ever get greeted like that? It’s always move Sinclair, you’re blocking my sister,” Lucas mimicked.
Rolling your eyes, you smacked the back of his head before bringing him in for hug. “How’re the Lakers?”
“Good, got an earful from my coach about keeping to my diet,” he said, scrunching his nose.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite employee,” Hopper’s voice boomed in the lobby.
You whipped your head around and narrowed your eyes. “If it isn’t my severely unprofessional boss,” you said, cracking and letting him bring you into a hug.
He leaned away, eyes darting across your face. “You seem different.”
“Yeah, I’m probably going prematurely grey from the stress these idiots give me,” you said.
Hopper shook his head. “You look happy, like you’ve lost some of those weights off your legs.”
“Don’t start,” you said, holding a hand up. “You’ll all be the death of me before the night is over.”
Robin clapped her hands twice, Steve Harrington already at her side – as per usual. He shot you a wide grin when you caught his eye. “This is all wonderful and everything but we got reservations I had to trade a kidney for. So, move it or lose it nerds!”
You all sat down, doors separating you from the rest of the restaurant firmly closed, and you thanked Julian’s guys stationed at the front.
Feeling a weird sense of déjà vu, you watched everyone you cared about bicker, catch up, and hug each other. Nancy sat to your left; her arm linked through yours as she told Will about her most recent news story.
The food had only just arrived when you realized there was a steak on a plate on Eddie’s right. “Hey, who’s that-”
“Sorry I’m late everyone, the traffic on the highway was a bitch.”
Spine straightening, you stood and watched Wayne walk through the doors. His eyes found yours and you almost broke in two at the way they softened for you. Turning to glance at Eddie, you watched him shoot you a small knowing smile.
For most of your last year in Hawkins, Wayne Munson had been the only responsible parental figure you, Eddie, or Max had. You’d lost the number of times he’d cook you two breakfast or given you a ride to work when Eddie wasn’t home. Affection hadn’t come easy to him but he’d never turned you away when you reached for a hug. His scruff would tickle as he pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head before leaving for work most nights.
Wayne Munson was the man who’d displayed the Christmas card you’d given him when the one you’d tried to send to your dad was sent back with a bright red RETURN TO SENDER. The mug you’d gotten him was displayed right in the middle of that old trailer.
“Well, look at you, all grown up,” Wayne said, hands going to his hips. “You lost my number or something? Just because my kid probably done and messed things up didn’t mean you couldn’t have called me once or twice among the years. I’ve saved your postcards though, every single one.”
Tears building in your eyes, you flung yourself into his arms and it took everything in you not to immediately break out into tears. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly, “I didn’t mean to stay away for so long.”
“That’s alright,” he said, thumping you twice on the back. “You’re here now and from what I hear, you been running a tight ship.”
Feeling merciful, the guys nodded, complaining instantly about your overboard security measures. Walking back down to your seat, you swiped a finger below your eyes and smiled when Wayne pressed a kiss to Max’s temple. “Hey Red.”
“Hi Wayne,” she said, beaming up at him. “Haven’t seen you since the summer. The new television holding up okay?”
“Course, you’re the one who helped me fix it,” he said, ruffling her hair. Wayne made his way down the table towards Eddie, settling down next to him.
Eddie’s eyes found yours again, concern swimming in them. You smiled, letting him know you were okay, just a little overwhelmed.
Halfway through dinner, you felt Hopper’s arm settle on the top of your chair behind you. “You can thank me with some scotch for the assignment,” he said, the glint in his eyes teasing.
“Right, and what am I thanking you for?”
Hopper rolled his eyes. “That, Mayfield, is the look of a man in love,” he said and you couldn’t help but glance towards Eddie, who was – in fact – looking at you. He smiled and you whipped your gaze back to Hopper. “You can’t be that blind,” he huffed. “You’re a smart girl. You’ll catch up eventually.”
“We did,” Joyce said, her soft voice coming from Hopper’s right. She smiled at you, her hand reaching for yours. “Don’t let him bully you.”
“Although,” Nancy said, joining the quiet conversation. “I really would’ve sworn that you two would’ve ended up together.”
“They would’ve, they still probably will,” Lucas, across from you said, voice a touch too loud for your liking. “You all see the way they stare at each other, right? It’s been two hours and I’m sick of it.”
“This is a job,” you insisted, “I’m suppose to make sure he’s – they’re all okay.”
“Not now,” Nancy insisted, “back then. When we were all still in high school.”
Your heart stopped and you felt your arms go numb. The two of you hadn’t told anyone – it’d only barely just happened when shit hit the fan. Then you turned and ran out of town before the leaves could settle.
“Shit, yeah,” Robin huffed, “do you remember the looks? God the yearning we had to put up with.”
Mike snorted. “It was, and still is, annoying. The campaigns always ended early when she sat in on them, like Eddie couldn’t wait to get rid of us.” Your pulse echoed in your ears and you darted a nervous look to the opposite end of the table. Eddie was in a deep conversation with the band, Dustin laughing at something Jeff had said.
“Remember Valentine’s Day? They got worse after that,” Lucas said. “Eddie practically ditched us every week.”
“And the nicknames?” Nancy added. “I thought it was sweet.”
Not able to handle more, you stood abruptly and you cleared your throat. “I’m going to go…to the bathroom. I’ll be right back,” you said, scurrying off before you could meet anyone’s eyes.
The hurried footsteps behind you let you know that you weren’t alone. Hands reaching for the sink, you tightened your grip on the edges. Looking up into the mirror, you saw Robin, Nancy, and Max’s worried faces.
“Was it too far? I’m sorry,” Nancy said immediately, her hands coming out to yours.
Robin, however, tilted her head. “No, that’s not it. What’s wrong?” Goddamn her.
Max answered for you. “They did date,” she said, coming up to your other side.
Your eyes shot up to her knowing ones and you balked. “What?” Robin sputtered, looking completely shocked. “I spent almost everyday with you. When the fuck did you two date?”
“How did you know?” You asked Max.
She shrugged, her hair falling to her back. “We lived across from his trailer, I could literally see you sneak out his window when Wayne would get home in the morning sometimes. Besides, it’s like they all said, anyone with eyes could see you two were gone for each other,” she said. “I know something changed in February. You two were different. I always felt guilty, after we moved, I felt like I…like I’d robbed you something.”
You’d moved to her side before you could even think. “You didn’t. Even if we had gotten together earlier, I wouldn’t have stayed in Hawkins. I couldn’t. I still can’t.”
Max smiled weakly, but you saw her nod before burrowing into your arms. “I’m sorry, we need to rewind a second,” Robin said, her voice a little too loud.
“I locked the door,” Nancy reassured you.
“What the fuck, why didn’t you tell me? Oh my God! I made you guys go on so many fucking dates just to fuck with you guys. Jesus Christ. I thought this was stupid yearning, a maybe we-kissed-once-while-drunk-or-high thing. Not that you guys actually dated!” Robin said, rubbing a hand down her face. “Holy shit.”
“They definitely did more than kiss,” Max said, laughing when you shot her a glare. “What? The trailer walls were thin and you were loud. Well, he was loud. Actually, you both were.”
“I’ll smother you,” you threatened, fighting the urge to run in mortification.
The three of them grinned, even Nancy, and you sighed. “This has been a bit much for me tonight. I – I need a moment.”
“Right,” Nancy said, ever the mediator. She gripped Robin’s arm and herded her out the door. “We’ll see you all tomorrow and the day after. I’ll tell everyone you have a stomachache and went upstairs.”
“Thank you,” you said, squeezing her hand.
“But- wait- I have more questions!”
“Which can wait for tomorrow,” Nancy whispered back. “Come on Buckley, we still have dessert to go through and I’ve got to grill you about Laura.”
“What! Who told!?” You managed to smile when Robin’s voice squeaked.
Splashing some water on your face, you hurried up to your room and almost jumped out your skin when a knock echoed a few minutes later.
Checking the peephole, you let your forehead drop against the door. Of course.
“Yes?” You said, opening it a few deep breaths later.
His concern evident, he took a few steps in and shut the door behind him. “Are you okay? Robin said you were throwing up?” His hands flew to your arms.
You reminded yourself to give her a good punch to the shoulder. “I’m fine,” you told him, opening your door to his room and giving it a sweep to have something to do.
“Wait, hold on a second,” he said, moving to follow after you and stopping once you sent him a glare.
Taking more than the necessary second to check through his hotel room, your thoughts bounced around wildly in your head.
What was he doing here? Did you really want to go down this rabbit hole again? Could the two of you even be friends again? How’d you feel if you saw him dating someone else? Did he want to even do this? What if you were getting ahead of yourself?
“I can hear you overthinking from out here,” he called out.
Shit.
You walked out, eyes landing on him in the doorframe immediately. The second you met his eyes, you felt something in the air shift.
“You’re not sick,” he said softly, almost like he didn’t want to disrupt anything.
Shaking your head, you wrung your hands together – suddenly nervous. You’d unarmed mercenaries before, other highly trained security personnel, shit – you’d decapitated a monster that had almost killed your sister. You’d stared down Russian soldiers in the face and spat at them.
But this, Eddie standing in the doorway, made you hesitate.
“Are we going to talk about it?” He asked, taking a step towards you.
You broke the eye contact, looking down at your fumbling hands. “About what?”
“You know what,” he said, taking another few steps into the room. He sighed when you didn’t look up at him. “Sweetheart, if you don’t – if I’ve read this wrong-”
Not able to let him think that he was alone in this, not again, you rushed to explain. “You haven’t. Read this wrong. At least I don’t think,” you threw your hands up, “I don’t know exactly what there is to read, Eddie. I’m…it’s been so long and what if we mess this up again?”
His entire expression transformed. “Mayfield.”
“What?” You huffed, crossing your arms.
Eddie smiled, brow rising, and you suddenly felt the urge to smack him. “Do you want to date me?”
“I’m scared,” you admitted. Eddie’s teasing expression softened into understanding.
“Me too. We can be scared together,” he said, outstretching his hand. You hesitated for a moment before intertwining your fingers together. “We can make up the rules as we go. It doesn’t need to be serious, or heavy, it can be whatever we want. We can relearn who we are now, see how these versions of us fit together.”
“I want that,” you said, the words some of the scariest you’ve said in a while.
Eddie beamed at you, his face practically splitting in two. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you said, because how could you not? Ever since you’d seen him lying there on the floor, your world had been spinning out of control. You had tried to steer it for a while but now you realized, it had just been spinning back to him. “I do.”
Both of you stood like idiots, smiling at the other, until Eddie’s eyes darted down to your lips.
The air crackled immediately in response; a soft current rippled through you. Unable to stop yourself, your own eyes dropped to his lips. You briefly wondered if he still made that noise when you bit down on his neck.
As if reading your mind, his hands trailed down to your hips, pulling you in. For a moment, a small moment, you let yourself be led – but clarity quickly slammed into you and you dodged his kiss.
Hurt, he turned around to look at you. “What – was that too fast?”
“No,” you said, breathing like you’d run a marathon. “I- we can’t.”
“Because?”
You shot him an incredulous look. “You’re a client! If we – if anything – it’d be unprofessional. I’m your employee. I’m literally being paid to be with you right now.”
“I mean technically you’re the label’s employee- ouch!” Eddie huffed, glaring at the pillow you’d tossed at him.
“No. There are no technicalities here. Not if it comes down to your safety,” you grumbled. “Shit, maybe I should reassign someone.”
Eddie straightened. “You can’t!”
“But-”
“The world already thinks you’re my girlfriend,” Eddie’s eyes sparkled at the word, “it wouldn’t make sense to reassign you. You can’t reassign this.”
You sighed when you realized he was right. Shit, were you compromised? Turning to argue, you watched something flash across his expression before he managed to school it back to neural. But this was you and him. You knew him too well. No one like to feel rejected, even if it was for a good reason.
Wanting to soothe any ache you’d inflicted, even if necessary or accidental, you walked up to him again. Placing a hand to his chest, you assured him. “If I wasn’t working, if I wasn’t on assignment. I would. I- you…you have a scar right here,” you said, tapping the edge of his collar.
“They’re everywhere, Mayfield,” he said with a ghost of a smile.
Closing your eyes, you let yourself have this one moment. Your index finger reached out to trace the scar. His skin prickled at the touch, hair standing on end. “It’s shaped like half a heart,” you said, tracing it over and over again. “I want to know what it tastes like. What it feels like under my tongue. I want to know if you still make the same noise when you’re desperate and needy. I want to know so badly it’s been driving me insane trying to deny that truth for the last two months.”
Eddie’s eyes darkened and you felt a small thrill trail down your spine at being able to have done so. “That’s not fair,” he said, voice hoarse.
“I wasn’t trying to be,” you said, not hiding behind your usual wall.
Eddie groaned at your look. “Fuck me,” he sighed, head thumping against the wall.
“I already told you,” you said, smiling cheekily, “I can’t.”
His eyes darkened further and your restraint was seconds from snapping. You waved a hand in the air and put more distance between the two of you. “Okay, okay, walk it off Munson.”
“Stop teasing me then,” he said, baring his teeth.
Alright, fair.
“There’s only a week left of this assignment. Seattle and then LA.”
Eddie nodded. “Then we’re free.”
“Yeah,” you said, both thrill and nervous, “then we’re free.”
///
“No!” A shout from the open doorway pulled you from your uneasy slumber. Sleep clung to your eyes, making everything a little fuzzy, but you let instinct take over. Grabbing the nearest weapon, you all but ran into Eddie’s room.
From a quick glance, you didn’t see anything out of place. Eddie laid on his side on the right, facing the door. You glanced into the bathroom and the open shower. When you glanced back at him, eyes and head clearer, you realized he was asleep. His face scrunched, expression a little anguished. You sat at the edge of the bed, hand coming up to his arm. “Eddie,” you said quietly, shaking him softly. “Eddie, it’s a dream. You’re dreaming.”
His eyes flew open, breath coming in scared pants, and he grabbed your arms tightly. “Are you – is everyone okay?” He stammered.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you assured him, “it was a nightmare. It was just a nightmare.”
Except you knew that things were never just a nightmare.
“I’m sorry,” he croaked, voice rough. “Did I wake you? Was I screaming?”
You shook your head, waving away his apologies. Running a hand down his head, you took his hand with the other. “We all get them. Are they – do they happen often?”
“Not as much as before,” he admitted, “they always come back when I’m finally feeling okay. Then they strike. It’s like they hide in the shadows for the right time.”
You smoothed the hair away from his face and traced a nonsensical shape into his palm. “I get it,” you told him, because you really, really did. “Do you need me to get you anything?”
Eddie hesitated and you frowned.
“What is it?”
“Can you – can you stay?” He asked a little shyly. “I won’t try anything, I swear.”
“A perfect gentleman?” You teased, knowing already that you wouldn’t be able to say no to him. He crossed his heart and you nodded. “If your hands wander, I’m smacking you in the morning.”
“That’s fine,” he said, pulling the blankets up to your chin. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” you said, yawning.
///
You woke up slowly, burrowing your face into your pillow, you tried to fight off the day for a few more minutes.
Moving to shift onto your back after a few minutes, you found yourself unable to. You cracked open one eye and realized you weren’t in your bed. Head perking up, last night came back to you in a rush and you looked down to see an arm keeping you securely tucked. Eddie’s chest was practically molded into your back, his nose buried in your neck and breath tickling your skin.
Glancing at the time, you groaned. Shit, you needed to be up and downstairs in a few minutes. “Eddie,” you tapped his wrist softly, “I gotta get up.”
Groaning in response, Eddie pulled you tighter to him, his cheek coming to rest on your head. You, however, blinked at the new sudden pressure you felt against your hip. Trying your best to shift away, you ended up rubbing against him.
A sharp inhale hit your skin and you shut your eyes. Experimentally, you pressed back again, the curve of your hip hitting at the right angle. Eddie’s gritty voice hit your ear. “If you keep doing that, this will get interesting really quickly.”
Eddie’s grip on your waist loosened and you instinctively turned to face him. You both groaned this time, when it was now trapped between you. Eddie rocked forward, almost unconsciously, and you clenched your thighs.
“Eddie,” you said, eyes catching his. You watched, fascinated, as his pupils dilated. Unable to help yourself, you rocked your hips forward again. This time, Eddie panted, his breath hitting your cheeks and you realized your grip on his arm was painful.
“Mayfield,” he hissed, grip on your hip tightening.
Shaking your head, you rolled off the side of the bed and landed in a heap on the floor.
“Mayfield?” He called out, coming over to glance at you over the edge. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” you said, trying to calm the embers in your – well, entire body. “We both need cold showers, breakfast, and to get going to the venue. Shit, I might need a drink at this rate.”
Eddie groaned, flopping back down onto the bed. “You and me both.”
You really couldn’t help but laugh.
///
Being back in California settled your nerves from the past week like a wave returning to the ocean. There was something about your home, the city you were born in, that calmed you.
Glancing around the packed club, the one the record label had rented out to celebrate the last concert of the national tour, you took note of all the exits again.
“You look like you’re having fun,” Robin said, dropping herself into the seat next to yours. Her elbow hit you in the side and you hissed. “Sorry, sorry, this place is fucking packed. The next person that accidentally bumps me is getting smacked.”
Suddenly, the booth you were in was surrounded. Everyone had returned with their drinks in hand, Eddie taking your other side and the guys sitting around the table. “Man, everyone from the tour is here! This is great!” Jeff said, excitedly sipping his pina colada. You smiled from behind your hand, his drink of choice hadn’t changed from high school and you couldn’t help but find it endearing.
Robin straightened. “Wait, this is it,” she said, glancing at you and Eddie. “You’re leaving us after tonight.”
“Well, technically I get a week off and then I think I’ve got a politician’s daughter who needs me for the next month.”
“What?” Eddie said, turning to glance at you. “I thought you were taking a few weeks off. I’ll be in town until we leave for London.”
Oh. You thought he’d be going back to New York after your week off. Robin, clearly picking up on both your tones, stood up. “We need a round of shots. Hey! Can I get a round of shots?”
The entire group groaned and she shot you each a look. A waitress brought them over on a tray and she waved over the few of Julian’s team that had opted to come. The guys and girls smiled and picked up a few shots when Robin urged.
“I want to toast to the woman who swooped in and saved our ass these last two months. Mayfield,” she raised her shot glass, “you’re irreplaceable, the best of the best, and we’re sad to see you go but goddamn, do we love to watch you walk away.”
You sputtered, laugh loud enough to rival the bass coming from the speakers.
“To our new guys,” she said, turning to Julian’s crew, “we’re so glad you’re staying with us. Welcome to Hell. You’ll love it here.” With a salacious wink, she threw back two shots.
The entire group cheered, lifting their glasses and drinking to an end and new beginning.
“God damn,” you hissed, the tequila stinging on it’s way down. Burying your face into Eddie’s shoulder, his hand came up to the back of your head and you felt his laughter beneath your cheek.
“Want something to wash it down with?” He asked, offering up his beer. You scrunched your nose and pointed to the bar.
“Save my seat? I’m going to go get something else. I think I burned my tastebuds off, what the hell was that?” You hissed, kissing his cheek and walking off towards the bar.
The blonde at the end of the counter spotted you and shot you a warm smile. “Can I get you anything?”
Ordering a drink, you added an appetizer as an afterthought. “Actually, can I have two?” She nodded, placing the orders for you and asking what table you were sitting at. Waving away her offer, you pulled yourself onto a barstool. “I can wait, no worries!”
A Corroded Coffin song came on and you grinned as the entire room erupted into cheers. You bopped your head at your seat, singing softly along to the words. A hand came up to your back and you smiled. “I’m just waiting on the-” your voice trailed off when you realized it wasn’t Eddie. “Oh. Uh, hi?”
“Hello,” the guy said, eyes dropping to your chest. You scrunched your nose and pulled back. “Did we meet at that party in Beverly Hills?”
Shaking his hand off your body, you straightened. “No, we did not. Please don’t touch me.”
Instead of insulted, his eyes sparkled – as if rising to a challenge you hadn’t announced. “I’m sure I’ve seen you before – you’re gorgeous.”
“Right,” you said, turning to hop off the stool. You were not going to hurt the stranger because it would kill the mood, you reminded yourself, unclenching your fists. As you took another deep breath, your eyes flew open when a firm grip pulled you into his chest. Shrieking, you went stumbling into his arms. “What the fuck?”
“I like girls who have a little heat,” he said, fingers practically bruising your wrist. “I saw it the moment you sat down. Besides, who wears an outfit like that and doesn’t want to get noticed?”
Trying to keep your temper in check, an image of you flipping him over your shoulder and slamming him into the ground flashed through your mind. Anger somewhat mollified, you were about to rip your arm from his and maybe break his index finger in the process, when you felt a hand on your shoulder. Stumbling into another chest, you glanced around to see Eddie’s fierce expression.
“I suggest you get your hands off my girlfriend before I break yours,” he said, tone leaving no room for arguments. Annoyance flashed across the guy’s expression before recognition dawned on him.
“Shit man, I didn’t know that was your girl, honest,” he said, taking a few steps back. His face paled as he stumbled away from the bar and towards the booths on the right. Not releasing his hold on you, Eddie stalked over to Johnson, who was two seconds from climbing onto table to dance.
“Who is that?” He asked her. Her glazed look disappeared at the sound of his tone.
“Plus one from a suit at the label. Want him out?” She said, all traces of inebriation vanishing at will. A bit of pride shot through you at that.
Eddie rubbed a hand down his face. “I know it’s your night off but he was feeling Mayfield up-”
Johnson’s brows flew up. “And his limbs aren’t broken?”
“I was trying not to make a scene,” you hissed, glaring at Eddie, and smiling at the few concerned looks you were getting.
Eddie’s eyes turned to you for the first time since the bar. Surprised at what you saw, you blinked. “Some things are worth making a scene for,” he turned to Johnson who smiled knowingly.
“I can take care of it,” she assured you both, “with pleasure.”
You turned to Eddie and he spoke before you could. “People are looking, darling, smile.”
“Do not tell me to smile,” you snarked. “I had that handled.”
Not dignifying you with a response, he pulled you into one of the semi-private booths. You growled at him. “Don’t manhandle me like that, I had it covered. It’s literally my job.”
Eddie ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I know. I’m sorry, I know you could’ve handled it but-” he hesitated, brows furrowing, “sometimes other people can take care of you, you know?”
You leaned back. “What?”
“Just because you can do it, doesn’t mean someone else can’t help. I know you could probably kick my ass-”
“-not probably, I definitely can-”
“-but I’ve still got your back. Even if you don’t need it.”
He was jealous, you realized, finally recognizing the emotion brewing in his eyes.
Oh.
“I…okay,” you said, taking his fingers and intertwining them with yours across the table.
Eddie frowned. “Okay?”
“Yeah,” you nodded.
Suspicious, he leaned forward. “I just – I didn’t like how he had his hands on you. I wanted to punch his stupid face.”
It was very in character that the sentiment made your heart skip a beat.
“Who goes around just grabbing people like that? The way he pulled you- and his stupid suit-” he exhaled harshly. “I’m sorry if I pulled you too hard. I know we haven’t defined anything between us yet-”
“Hey,” you interrupted his nervous rambling. “I can get jealous too you know.”
“Yeah?”
You nodded, remembering that stupidly pretty bartender at the Hide Out. The way she’d place her hand on his arm, tracing his tattoos. Blinking away the memory, you raised your eyes up to Eddie’s and felt that first crackle of electricity. “I’ve got to share you with everyone you know,” you teased, “you’re Eddie Munson, famous rockstar now.”
Instead of laughing, Eddie’s eyes shifted and you felt the tension deepen. The current snapped louder, practically visible. “Yeah, but you wanted me when I was that kid planning campaigns and standing on lunch tables. Nothing, not even sold-out stadiums and big fancy international tours can change that. You were the first.”
“Eddie,” you breathed, fingers digging into his skin, and you suddenly got the urge to kiss him.
He smiled, a soft, excited little thing. “I don’t know if you’ve realized but,” he licked his lip and you followed the motion. “I regret to inform you that your employment for Corroded Coffin has come to an end.”
“Technically it’s to the end of the night,” you joked, laughing when he shot you a half-hearted glare, “but, yes, I do know.”
“So, what do you say we get out of here?” He said, wiggling his brows like the dork he really was. Your heart sung, wanting to reach out and bury itself beneath his skin.
You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “I’m pretty sure this party isn’t even halfway through.”
Eddie groaned, head lolling to the side. “You’re killing me Mayfield, you’re actually killing me.”
“I’m not,” you huffed, “I’d be a little ruthless if I mentioned that I’m wearing something a bit lacy underneath this all.”
Popping his head up to glare at you, you watched with unrestrained laughter as his eyes lowered – dazed. “That’s not fair,” he grumbled. “Fuck the party, let’s just go. I’ve been waiting years for this.”
“It’s only been two months,” you reminded him, “and we can’t – you have a speech to make with the guys. Robin will kill you if you miss it.”
Eddie’s desperate gaze softened into something tangible. Something real you could almost grasp in your hands. It reached out and stole your breath, leaving you gasping. “No, sweetheart, I’ve been waiting on you for years. I just didn’t realize until last month,” he stood, resting his weight on his forearms to lean into your space, “and I’ve never been one not to go for what I want. And right now, that’s you.”
With a dip of his head, he licked a strip up your neck and nipped at your jaw before hovering just far away enough from your lips. Your heart dropped into your stomach and the velociraptors in your stomach awoke with a vengeance.
“Okay?”
“Okay,” you heard yourself say, sounding incredibly breathless.
With one last heated look, he slid out the booth and sauntered through the gauzy curtains. You blinked, watching him walk back towards your friends. That little punk. You groaned, heat swirling through your belly, and you clenched your thighs together.
An hour, tops, and you were dragging that man – rockstar or not – back to your room.
Straightening your shoulders, you stood and made your way over to bar for your drink. The bartender let you know she sent the forgotten appetizers to your table and you nodded, dazed. Making your way to Robin, sipping on your cocktail, you sat next to her.
She grinned at you.
“What?” You groaned around the straw.
“That looked like a heated conversation.”
You shrugged, crossing your legs. “It might’ve been.”
“It had to have been considering the speech the guys are making is suppose to be in an hour.”
Humming, you looked at her a little confused. To be fair, you were still drowning in a cloud of Eddie’s cologne and the memory of his gaze. She pointed to the makeshift stage at the edge of the dance floor where the DJ stood. Gareth was thanking everyone on the tour for their help.
“He came over to let me know they were gonna bump up the speech and ‘do not fucking knock on our door until tomorrow afternoon even if the hotel is burning down’ or else he was plucking eyes out.”
Eddie’s voice came through the mic next and you immediately started choking on your drink, you coughed and thumped your chest, trying to dislodge the ice cube you’d just accidentally inhaled.
“I know,” Robin said, amusedly watching you choke to death. “From now until the afternoon? That’s ambitious. Just try not to break the bed, this is an expensive hotel.”
Glaring at her as you cleared your throat, she cackled. “I better be your best man.”
“Robin!” You gasped, needing a reprieve.
“What?” She huffed. “As if you two would ever end up with anyone else? Please. But seriously, Max gets maid of honor but I’m the best man. Best maid? Whatever. I’ll get to rub it in Steve’s face for years.”
The sarcastic quip on your tongue died as a hand circled your wrist and hauled you to your feet. Glass hitting the table, you stood and whirled to see Eddie’s wild eyes. “Come on.”
“Did you basically announce that we’re together to the whole group?” You hissed, following his lead – you were indignant, not stupid – and turned to glare at Robin as she wolf whistled. “Jeff isn’t even done speaking!”
Eddie, ignoring your words, kept weaving through the crowd. You reached the elevators and you opened your mouth but Eddie shot you a look. “For once, in your life, don’t argue with me,” he said, nipping at your ear and successfully shutting you up.
You were used to being the one that took the lead, Eddie had always encouraged you to do so. So when the elevator shut behind him and his lips crashed into yours for the first time in almost ten years, your legs immediately turned into jelly. Your arms went to his neck, securing him to you as his teeth bit down into your bottom lip. Groaning into his mouth, you ran your fingers through his hair and tugged sharply.
Eddie’s moan echoed in the elevator, reverberating in your bones. His eyes flashed and you shivered, thrilled at the sight. His hand came to your neck and your shoulders hit the back panel. Panting, you stared up at him defiantly and you watched him smile at your – do doubt – swollen lips. His thumb caressed the underside of your jaw and you tried to keep yourself from letting him know how much you enjoyed it.
The glint in his eyes let you know you’d failed but you didn’t mind, especially not when the elevators opened and he all but ran you to the end of the corridor. Not able to keep your hands to yourself, you pushed him against the door and finally, fucking finally, lapped at the scar on his collarbone. His head thumped at the door and you let your hand trail down to palm him through his black jeans. Eddie buckled, pupils blown wide, hands scrambling for the upper hand but you kept him pressed against the door.
Mouth traveling up to the meaty part of his neck, you worried the sensitive skin there and pressed harder. Eddie’s choked whine hit your ear and he panted. “Sweetheart, this is going to be over really soon if you don’t stop teasing me.”
“Oh yeah?” You said, eyeing the red skin at his neck with satisfaction. Eddie’s chest rose quickly, a dazed smile on his face. “Fuck,” you huffed, pushing your disheveled hair from your face.
“What?” He asked, fingers pulling the key card from his pocket.
“You’re sort of beautiful, Munson,” you said, not stepping through the door as he opened it. Surprised at your comment, he glanced back at you and you smiled. “It’s almost unfair.”
Heat doubling in his expression, Eddie pulled you through the doorway and caged you in on the wall. “You can’t say shit like that to me when you look like that,” he groaned, his lips coming down to your neck this time. You gasped when his hand slipped underneath your top, deft fingers pulling down your bra and palming your chest. “Fuck, I want you so bad.” You whimpered when he brought a knee up between your legs and hissed at the sudden pressure.
Jesus Christ, you needed to take his clothes off, now. You both needed to be in bed, on the floor, against this fucking wall – whatever. But it needed to be soon. Your edges were frayed after this past week of building tension.
Nails digging into his back, you rocked your hips desperately seeking any type of friction. “Eddie,” you mumbled, mind completely gone and eyes opening. You took a moment to adjust the candlelight and then blinked. Candlelight? Wait, what?
The haze in your mind cleared for a moment and your sixth sense popped it’s head up.
“Wait, hold on,” you said, nudging him back – his scent was intoxicating and you needed a breath of clean air. As your brain rebooted, you took a few steps towards the massive sitting room and immediately the hairs on your arm stood on end.
Something was wrong. Really wrong. Fuck. You hadn’t swept the room before you stepped in. “Get out – Eddie, run-”
Eddie’s brows furrowed, confused, and the idiot took a step towards you instead. Acting on pure instinct, you whirled around and didn’t have enough time to bring your hands up. A punch to your face and the subsequent crunch let you know that your nose was broken. Blood instantly gushed down to your mouth. You heard Eddie scream your name, panicked.
Dazed and sprawled on the floor, you watched Eddie launch himself at the man and they went tumbling into the wall. The woman, who had been laid out on the bed, stalked up to you. Her platform heels clacked against the floors and it took you a moment to stop seeing double. Heaving for air, you felt her sharp heel come up to your face. Your head snapped back, sight going hazy again.
“Did you really think we wouldn’t come for you, stupid bitch?” She hissed. “He’s too good for you. I don’t know what he saw in you but we’re finally here. You can’t keep us apart anymore.”
“Fuck you,” you spat, blood dribbling down your chin.
“We suspected you were security, you know,” she said, twirling the knife in her hand, “considering the previous guards were easy to bribe to let us into the hotels and venues. Your guys though, I have to give them credit, clocked us in a second. But we’re devoted. He’s ours.”
You glanced back at where the woman’s companion had Eddie in a headlock, clearly trying to keep from hurting him. Eddie’s eyes caught yours and you tried to will him into collaborating.
“He’s the love of our lives,” she said, looking back at Eddie and blowing him a kiss. “We were all married in our past life.”
With a well-practiced move, you swung you leg out and collided with her. She screamed, tumbling to the ground and you pounced. Your foot came down to her hand with the knife and you leaned your entire weight onto it.
The crunching sound beneath your own heels, and her panicked pained screams, let you know you’d returned the favor and broken her wrist. “Fuck you,” you spat, rearing your hand back and bringing it down onto her temple twice before she went limp.
A fist came down to your hair and dragged you up. The man’s tight grip drew your arm back furiously. With a deep breath, you opened your mouth and unleashed a guttural scream. Throwing your head back, you heard the man shout. He released his grip on you and you turned to face him. He threw his arm out towards you but you side stepped him, using his own momentum, you leaned backwards and hooked your foot around his. In a move your Sensei would be proud of, you twisted and landed hard atop of him. Unfortunately, the man managed to fold your arm in the process and you knew by the exploding pain that if something was dislocated – you’d be lucky.
Already looking for something to grab, you barely managed to sideswipe the lamp Eddie brought down onto the man’s jaw. Going limp, you panted, and swung off of him.
Eddie’s panicked eyes darted over to you. Cradling your bad arm, you pointed to your room. “Go get my duffel bag. The blue one. I have zip ties in there, tie these two to the radiator on the wall.”
“But – Mayfield, the blood – did she – fuck-” he stammered and you looked down to realize he was right. It looked like someone had been stabbed and for a brief moment of panic, you reached out towards Eddie with your right hand. “It’s not me – I’m fucking fine – it’s you!”
You brought your hand up to your face and winced when you felt the cut on your cheekbone and temple. “That bitch caught me when she kicked me,” you said, “head wounds bleed a lot. I’m fine. Eddie, focus – go get the zip ties.”
His breathing was a little shallow, and his skin too pale, but he nodded. Running into your room, you used his absence to heave yourself up. Groaning as the room spun, you limped over towards the phone.
Before you could get there, you watched the door slam open. Martin and Johnson stood in the doorframe, eyes widening as they took you in. “Boss, shit, are you alright?” Johnson said, at your side in an instant.
“Where’s Munson?” Martin asked, already ducking into your room, where Eddie was holding the zip ties in his hands.
“I found them!” He shouted, letting Martin take them from him. At the sight of other people, Eddie darted back over to you.
“Sweep the building, make sure everything is secure,” you told Johnson, the broken nose and hit to your temple starting to make you dizzy.
Martin tied their arms behind their backs and marched over to the phone. “I’ll call you an ambulance boss,” he said, a speck of blood on his cheek and the knife in his hand.
Johnson wrapped your good arm around her neck and guided you out to your room. “How did you know?” You asked, inhaling sharply when you jostled your arm.
“Neighbors called in a complaint about screaming downstairs. Robin sent us up as a joke but we heard your scream from the elevator banks,” she said, face twisting. “I don’t know how they got passed security.”
“I do,” Martin said, holding up a large duffel and some maintenance uniforms. “Medics and police are on their way boss.”
“I want to charge them with everything fucking possible,” Eddie snarled, his hand on your leg. “Jesus Christ, look at the blood.”
Johnson nodded. “Head wounds bleed a lot; it doesn’t look too bad. What’s another few more stitches?” She joked, clinical eyes taking in your nose. “Looks clean but definitely broken.”
“You don’t say,” you snipped, watching through heavy eyes as Johnson smiled.
“She’ll be alright,” she said and you knew it was more for Eddie’s benefit than your own. “She’s got enough in her to still be a sarcastic punk.”
You huffed weakly. “I’m still your boss.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Johnson straightened, “hey now, stay awake.”
“Mayfield?” Eddie said, his hand coming out to shake you. Johnson’s fingers smacked your cheek a little but it was futile. Exhaustion and adrenaline swept through you, knocking you down and encompassing you in the dark.
///
You awoke in the ambulance a few minutes later. It seemed that not eating, drinking shitty tequila, and taking a few hits to the head wasn’t a good mix. The EMT had greeted you with a wide smile.
Robin, however, had looked like she was ready to vibrate into a different dimension when she was finally allowed into your room. She stepped in, her suit wrinkled and her expression tight. You were still a little loopy from the pain meds but a nurse had helped you raise the bed so you were at least sitting for the debrief you knew you’d have to give.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” she hissed, her fingers coming out to your good wrist.
“It looks worse than it is,” you said, knowing that your face must be bruised to shit. The swelling had already started to set in and you knew that the nose was going to look bad for at least two weeks.
“The nurse said you’d broken something but I thought it was your fucking arm – not everything else!” She said, hand hovering in the air like she was scared to touch you.
You bridged the gap for her and curled your fingers around hers. “Rob, I’m okay. I’ve had worse.”
That didn’t seem to be the right thing to say because she paled. Taking the opportunity, you squeezed her hand and tried to blink back your tears. “I’m sorry,” you said, voice thin, “I am so sorry. I was distracted and didn’t check before we went in. Eddie could’ve been hurt and I-” This time your voice did crack and you tried to swallow around it. The guilt had been eating you alive for the entire time you’d sat in this bed.
How could you have not gone in and cleared the room? You’d been doing it for two months, every day, and you’d forgotten. Everyone made mistakes but mistakes in your field got people killed.
“Sorry?” Robin sputtered incredulously. “Mayfield, you saved his life. You saved both your lives! You’re a fucking hero.”
You shook your head, wincing when it brought a sharp throb of pain.
“Is that why the nurse said I was the only visitor cleared? Eddie’s been driving himself crazy in the waiting room – he’s a wreck out there,” she said, squeezing your hand tightly. “This wasn’t your fault.”
“This is my job!” You exclaimed.
Robin’s eyes softened. “The assignment was up yesterday, boss. Besides, they’ve been arrested and slapped with so many charges I’ll be surprised if they’re not in there for a good chunk of years.”
“But I shouldn’t have let my guard down. We were distracted- I let him distract me-”
She smiled sadly at you. “Don’t do this, I know what you’re doing – how you’re working yourself up. Don’t do this to him.”
“Robin, I- I can’t,” you said pathetically, feeling like you were going to throw up.
“Listen to me. You two have always been inevitable. That’s – part of the reason I was insistent on hiring you. I knew that you both were each other’s person. Admittedly, I thought you were both just being stubborn, I didn’t know you’d actually dated. You both just needed the right circumstances and two good nudges. Obviously, you were someone I trusted but…you had to have known. Everyone who looked at you two knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That it was never pretend. It took three nurses to keep him in the waiting room, Mayfield. He’s – he was losing his mind when they wouldn’t let him ride in the ambulance. Shit, when I saw all the blood, I had a panic attack. It looked like – like when Eddie-” her breath went shallow and she winced at the rattle in her chest. “Fucking PTSD.”
“Fucking PTSD,” you agreed, empathizing completely.
“This wasn’t your fault, is what I’m trying to say. The fact that you two finally came to your senses and got lost in the moment was what we all wanted! For years. Please, don’t hide away from him again.”
The guilt piled on you in epic proportions but you were anything if not stubborn.
You’d almost gotten Eddie killed – except this time it was your fault. You were the one who’d forgotten to double check. You were the one who was suppose to know better. You weren’t dumb kids in over their heads.
Robin sighed, pressing a kiss to your forehead and patting your hand. “I’ll let them know you’re staying over for observations and you can’t have any visitors until the morning, okay?”
“Thank you,” you said, ashamed and relieved all at once.
That night, with your kind nurse checking you once an hour for any signs of a concussion, you watched the stars through your window.
You’d tried and lost, again. You knew that you shouldn’t have taken this job – panic threatened to overwhelm you. It felt like you’d been dropping into the ocean in the middle of a storm. Waves crashed into you, pulling you under.
Like a coward, you’d already asked Max to come get you upon your discharge. You’d heard the hesitation in her voice but she agreed to pick you up from the back. You needed to make it a clean break. Eddie would go off to do better things because he deserved better than you and the baggage you came with.
Chest aching and tears burning, you realize that you had almost made it this time. You’d had what you wanted within reach, fingertips grazing it, until it was snatched away from you again.
You’d learned something though. The second time around hurt more than the first. But at this point, running was second nature.
///
In hindsight, you should’ve known that your patchwork, flimsy at best, plan wouldn’t work. Hiding out for a week in Lucas’ spare bedroom helped you keep up the illusion that you weren’t being the biggest coward in all of existence. Max, like the best little sister in the world, hadn’t brought up the topic and let you mope around as you got used to maneuvering around with a cast on your arm – again.
The phone rang and you instinctively flinched. You heard Max answer and sighed when she called out your name from the kitchen.
“It’s Hopper,” she said, coming to the doorframe. “I promise.”
Grumbling, you picked the phone up from the receiver. “Do you ever pick up the phone?” Hopper asked. “Jesus. I had to hear from Robin that you’re not dead in a hospital somewhere?”
“Sorry,” you grunted, feeling like a kid getting scolded by their parents.
“Listen, I need a favor,” he said.
You groaned. “Hopper, I broke my arm,” you whined.
“And then disappeared off the face of the planet for a week. Joyce was ready to call Murray.”
Sighing, you frowned. “I’m on leave for at least a month – I can work with the cast but my nose needs to heal.”
“Calm down tiger, I just need you to go into the office and meet with some of the suits from the label. They want to hear what happened from your end. It shouldn’t take more than ten minutes.”
“Can’t I do it over the phone?”
“Would I be calling you if you could?”
And that’s how you found yourself on your way to headquarters on a Saturday morning.
Jessica, the office admin, greeted you with a warm smile when you arrived. “That looks painful,” she said, whistling.
“You should see the other guy,” you joked weakly.
Her brows rose. “They’re still alive?” She smiled when you laughed. “Come on, they’re already here.”
“Shit,” you glanced at your watch. “I thought I was early.”
“Don’t worry, they haven’t been here long,” she reassured you. She grabbed your bag and opened the door to the largest conference room.
You took a step into the room and froze. Eddie stood, arms crossed, leaning against the large wooden table. Glancing back at the door, Jessica smiled knowingly. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”
The silence was painful and you sighed. “Eddie-”
“Please don’t be mad at me, I’m so sorry for doing this. You deserve the best and that isn’t me,” he said, eyeing your cast with a guarded expression.
“What?” You said, headache blooming at your temples. You were going to kill Hopper. No, you were going to quit and then kill him.
Eddie nodded to the folded letter next to him on the table. The one you’d asked a nurse to give to him before you’d slipped out the back. He was quoting what you’d written.
“You had some audacity, you know?”
Sighing, you settled into the nearest chair and waved a hand in the air. “What did you want me to do?”
“To fight, for fuck’s sake, fight for us!” He exclaimed. “I know you love me; I know you do. You don’t have to say it, I know you better than you know yourself.”
“It’s in my blood! What do you want me to do? From the first time I fought with the kids, to that last battle. I run, it’s what I do. I don’t – I don’t know how to stop,” you said, voice anguished.
“That’s fine, but let me run with you. I don’t want to catch you, I don’t want to change you into something you’re not – but let me be by your side,” Eddie said, throwing his hand out. “Did you really think you could hand me a letter and think I’d just let it go?”
You didn’t answer because, yeah, that’s what you had thought.
“I let you go once because I thought it was what you wanted – I’m not making the same mistake again,” he said, reverent. “I realized now that you’re scared but, I’m scared too.”
“I almost got you killed,” you said, like a broken record. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry – for everything.”
Eddie sighed. “Mayfield.”
Something snapped within you. “No, Eddie, no – I can’t do this. I can’t – I don’t know why. Maybe that’s all we’re destined to be. An almost. A beautiful, wonderful almost.”
“We were never an almost,” he said, coming up to you, “this is just our story. And this isn’t the end of it - you weren’t the one that got away, you’re the one period. We might’ve worked before but we might’ve not. But those kids in Hawkins? They weren’t an almost. We weren’t almost something. We were something. But this us? Right now? We’re right where we need to be. We were meant for this. This is our story.”
Weak excuses falling at your feet, you gazed up at Eddie’s eyes and stripped yourself bare. “I do love you, I do,” you admitted painfully, “I didn’t think that we’d fit together the same way we did before but we did and I didn’t know what to do with it. Then, the beach happened, the storm – I’m scared. I’m broken, that time in Hawkins broke me and I don’t know how to stay. I don’t know how to plant roots.”
“I do though and I can do it for the both of us until you learn,” Eddie said, eyes looking at your cast sadly. “Do you want this?”
Tears welled in your eyes and you considered lying again. But you couldn’t – not a third time. Against every blaring alarm in you, you nodded. “Yes. I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted before. But – I’m different Eddie, I’m…”
“If you say broken,” he scowled, “you’re not fucking broken.”
“I’m different. I’m haunted. It’s been ten years and it still won’t go away. It gets easier but it’s always there. The assignments I’ve gone on – the shit I’ve seen. I- I can’t cope sometimes. The shadows always come when the sun goes away,” you admitted, saying the words for the first time in years.
“Share them with me. I can help you chase the shadows away. That’s what we do, right? Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway.”*
At your shock, Eddie smiled softly, kneeling so that he was looking up at you.
“When are you going to learn?” He mused, eyes dancing between yours. “I’m yours. I’ve always been yours. I don’t deserve better because you’re the best of us, Mayfield. You’re the best person I’ve ever met and I refuse to let you think otherwise. Because I know you’re brave. I’ve seen it. I can see it now. Let yourself be loved.”
Heart cracking open, you felt tears roll down your cheeks. Your good hand came up to his cheek and you leaned your forehead against his. Taking a deep breath, you steeled your shoulders and batted at the shadows. How stupid of you to think you could outrun him, the same man who stared a tornado of demobats and stood to fight.
��Okay,” you said, “I’d kiss you but I’m scared you’ll bump my nose.”
Eddie’s answering grin was blinding.
///
“I could take a look at the security plans if you want,” you said lightly, inching towards the files on the table and leaning forward.
Yang shut the file closed and shot you a look. “You’re here as a guest of the band’s, Mayfield. Not as security.” She smiled when you pouted.
“Oh come on, you know I’m good,” you whined.
She shook her head. “What you are, is a control freak,” she teased. “Your boyfriend was looking for you a few minutes ago. I’m assuming he went to the stage next.”
You scowled and stuck out your tongue before taking off towards the main stage. Fighting back your smile, you wrapped your arms around yourself. Hearing other people refer to Eddie as your boyfriend, an official boyfriend, always made the velociraptors in your stomach yawn awake. Even after six months.
“There you are!” A pair of arms wrapped around your waist and you jumped.
Turning in the arms, you smiled up at Eddie. “Here I am,” you said, reaching up to press a kiss to his lips. “Where’d you go?”
“Robin needed me. I’m good for the next hour, I wanted to see if you were hungry.”
You quirked your brow. “You have a concert in three hours and they’re letting you leave?” You asked.
“I’ve got you with me,” he said, grinning, “they always trust me more when you’re around.”
Laughing, you tucked yourself under his arm and curled an arm around his waist. “Gee, I wonder why,” you said. Eddie’s finger trailed down your nose and you scrunched it at him.
“Let’s go wander Barcelona,” you said, eyes tracing his movements when he tucked his hair into a baseball cap.
Eddie smiled knowingly when he caught you blatantly checking him out. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said, ducking for another kiss.
“You two are disgusting,” Mike called out, carrying the backup guitars towards the stage. “Get a room!”
“I’ll remember that the next time you see El!” You shouted back, laughing when he stuck his tongue out.
“I haven’t seen you in a month,” Eddie huffed, “I’m allowed to be dramatic about it.”
You pulled him towards the side exit. “You’ve never needed permission, Munson, don’t start now.”
Finding a small park a few blocks away, you bought yourself some gelato and sat cross legged on a bench. “Want some?” You asked, offering up a spoonful. Eddie rarely ate this close to a performance but your stomach flipped as you watched his tongue dart out to catch some of the creamy goodness. His tongue managed to swipe your thumb and he smirked.
“Tastes delicious,” he said, leaning closer.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” you teased, tilting your head back further so he could nip at your neck. The current flickered for a moment, lying dormant when he leaned away.
The look in his eyes was fond when you couldn’t help but kiss his jaw. “What’s that look for?”
“Nothing, I’m just happy to have you here,” he said, resting an arm on your knee. “Are we going to talk about it?”
You rolled your eyes. “Between the two of us, you’re the one that’s having a harder time accepting this.”
“She’s a kid!”
“Max is an adult, Edward, and may I remind you that you and I were doing a lot worse things when we were younger than her?”
Eddie huffed, squeezing your shoulder. “I just keep picturing them as my little lost sheep, you know?”
“How do you think I feel?” You said. “I can still picture her all tiny and chubby limbs. But he makes her happy, you know? They’ve made it this long anyway – if anything, he took his time.”
“I still can’t believe he asked me for my blessing,” he said and you remembered how Eddie had teared up the day Lucas had asked you for permission to propose to Max. You’d cried, then laughed about how you were going to tell her he’d asked for permission like she was cattle. He’d gotten flustered the more you teased and you honestly wished you would’ve recorded it.
“I bet she cries,” you said, tearing up at the thought. Your little sister was getting married.
Eddie kicked a leg out. “Nah, she’ll probably tackle him to the floor while he cries.”
“Also likely,” you admitted. “Hey, you think we’ll ever get married?”
Choking, Eddie turned to you, shock all over his face. He sputtered a few times, mouth gaping.
“What? You planning on breaking up with me?” You asked, curled your tongue around the plastic spoon.
At that, he reanimated. “No, of course not,” he said. “I just – I didn’t think you’d want…to do that.”
That was fair. Considering your history.
“Would you want that?” You asked, curious. You didn’t have a preference really; your parents had been married and then your mother had married Neil. That was enough to remind you that marriage wasn’t the end all.
“A few years ago, I would’ve said no,” Eddie confessed, “but, I gotta admit, I want everything with you, sweetheart.”
Biting back a grin, you nodded. “Then, let’s do it.”
“Did you just propose to me?” Eddie asked, laughing and ducking when you swatted at him.
“No, doofus,” you rolled your eyes, “I meant let’s do it eventually. I want a ring and to actually be asked.”
“That’s weirdly traditional for you,” he teased.
You shrugged. “I want everything with you too,” you said, delighting in the way his eyes went soft and gooey, “besides, I want you down on one knee.”
Eddie wiggled his brows. “You have me down on my knees a lot sweetheart, doesn’t take much.”
Ignoring him, you jabbed him with a finger. “Don’t you dare ask either of my parents for permission.”
“Noted.”
“Maybe I’ll propose to you, we both know Wayne would say yes.” You thought about it and wondered what kind of ring he’d like.
Eddie rolled his eyes, all suffering. “We get it, you’re the favorite.”
“Don’t forget it,” you said, bumping your arm into him. “You’re my favorite, if that’s any consolation.”
“Yeah,” he said, looking down at you. “It is.”
Checking your watch, you stood. “Come on, we’re cutting it close. Yang’ll want to run through a few perimeters checks and she said I could help.”
Grabbing your hand, Eddie let you lead. “Isn’t this supposed to be a vacation?” He asked.
“Hey, I’m all yours after this,” you said, “last concert of the tour and we get a month to ourselves in Europe.”
Eddie grinned, kissing your temple. “There’s this bakery in Florence that I know you’re going to love. I want to take you so many places. Oh, there’s a bookstore Gareth found in Lisbon!”
You watched his face come alive as he recounted his tour of the Eiffel Tour. Yeah, you thought to yourself, you might not believe much in marriage, but you believed in Eddie.
///
“Muchas gracias Barcelona!” Eddie said, waving to the crowd as they screamed themselves hoarse. You felt tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. They’d done it – they’d finished the first part of their world tour.
The label had given the green light for another six months in the next year but this one had been a success in ways no one could’ve predicted.
Gareth darted past you first, falling into the arms of his new girlfriend. You, ready for it, found your arms filled with a practically buzzing Eddie. He hugged you tightly. “We did it!”
“You did it, I’m so proud of you,” you said, shouting a little to be heard over the fans.
You walked deeper into the side stage and took Eddie’s hand in yours. “Sorry, I’m all sweaty,” he said, bouncing on his toes. The boys were always energetic post-concert, you knew it was the adrenaline of performing. Eddie had once told you he’d hoped that the novelty would never fade.
“It’s never bothered me before,” you said, doing a perfect impersonation of his eyebrow wiggle. Eddie, however, stilled. His hair was frizzy, wild, and his smile was just a little unhinged.
“I love you, Eddie Munson,” you said, you loved all versions of him. “I’ll love you forever.”
His smiled turned into something soft. You beamed back at him, knowing that he reveled in it every time you said it. And it was so easy to give him what he wanted, because Eddie was, by far one of the easiest people to love. He was the man you’d love for the rest of your life. It was hard sometimes but, you made it work.
Eddie’s fingers came up to your chin and tilted your face up to his. “Say it again,” he demanded.
“I love you, I love you, I love you,” you echoed, peppering his face with kisses. He laughed, delighted, and then – like a switch had flipped – they turned. His eyes were ravenous and hands everywhere.
His lips trailed open mouth kisses down your throat, his hands going lower and lower-
“Jesus Christ, I’m fucking blind,” Dustin cried, hands coming up to slap against his eyes. “This is a public area! Can you two get a goddamn room?”
Eddie’s insistent hand pulled you off towards an empty one down the hall. “Good idea Henderson.” Powered to ten, the electricity between you two popped, tying you together.
Dustin gagged but you’re too enamored to care much. “We’ll catch up!” You shouted over your shoulder.
“Not likely,” Eddie said, pushing you into the room and locking the door behind you. “Now, where were we?”
As he pounced, your back hit the velvet sofa, you laughed. His teeth nipped at your neck and you wrapped your arms around him. Just before your mind went fuzzy, you had one last rational thought.
Maybe you did owe Hopper a bottle of scotch.
A/N: remember when I said I was learning to write shorter stuff? lol me @ me you played yourself
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Social Media:
Facebook: Post on your personal profile, local community groups, and real estate groups. Use Facebook Marketplace to list the property for sale. Instagram: Share high-quality photos and videos using stories, posts, and reels. Use relevant hashtags like #HouseForSale, #RealEstate, and #YourCityName. Twitter: Share concise updates with links to your property listing. Use appropriate hashtags and tag relevant local real estate accounts. LinkedIn: Post on your profile and in relevant professional groups. Online Advertising:
Google Ads: Create targeted ads that appear to people searching for properties in your area. Facebook and Instagram Ads: Use the advertising tools to target potential buyers based on demographics, interests, and location.
Email Marketing:
Create an email campaign to send to your contacts, especially those who might be interested or know someone who is. Consider using email marketing services like Mailchimp or Constant Contact to reach a broader audience.
Virtual Tours:
Create a virtual tour using tools like Matterport or a simple video walkthrough. Share the tour on real estate websites, social media, and YouTube.
Real Estate Blogs and Forums:
Write a blog post about your property and share it on real estate blogs or forums like BiggerPockets. Engage in discussions and share your listing in a non-spammy manner.
Local Online Communities:
Post in local online communities, forums, and websites such as Nextdoor and Craigslist. Engage with local influencers or bloggers who might share your property listing with their followers.
Content Marketing:
Create content around your property, such as articles or videos about the neighborhood, local amenities, and the unique features of your property. Share this content across your social media channels and real estate platforms.
Collaborate with Real Estate Agents:
Even if you prefer to sell by owner, collaborating with real estate agents can give your property more visibility. They can share your listing with their network and on their digital platforms.
SEO Optimization:
Ensure that any property listing or blog post is optimized for search engines. Use keywords that potential buyers might search for, such as “house for sale in [Your City]”.
By leveraging these digital media strategies, you can reach a wide audience and increase the chances of selling your property quickly.
Do you want to grow your business? You can contact me. [email protected]
growyourbusiness #RealEstate #HouseForSale #socialmideagrow
amirhamza74
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Things You Should Know About A.Pheonyx (Me)
Formerly known as:
"BlueLotus Designs" and (more recently) "Crafty_Pheonyx" Some images may still have these Watermarks and will be tagged "formerly known as". Newest images will be watermarked with "A.Pheonyx".
I need to undergo a few personal changes due to a quickly, crashing mental health. This battle with my brain has led to pretty much a complete renewal/ restructuring of my personal and professional social medias. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing, I wasn't very organized before and I don't think that helped anybody. Below is a little list (and TLDR) of 10 things (in no particular order) it feels like you should know before scrolling through my content.
TLDR:
THIS ACCOUNT HAS A CONTENT AND TRIGGER WARNING. This content is geared toward adults; minors who attempt to follow will be blocked. STOP HERE. PLEASE ASK FOR MY PERMISSION BEFORE USING MY CREATIONS, & PLEASE TAG/CREDIT ME WHEN/IF YOU'RE USING/SHARING IT. Be prepared for me to get punny and personal with myself on this page- it's part of my creative process. Additionally, for LGBTQIA2+ feminist prop*ganda, puns and witchcraft. While one day I want to be a successful artist and author accomplishing my dreams, for now I want to figure out balancing my personal and professional accounts/posting schedules so, I'm not taking commissions. Expecting perfection from me will just be disappointing for both of us (ask my parents). I'm doing my best; I'm willing to grow. Other social media accounts are linked below.
19+ C.W. (with a partial T.W.): My content is NOT made for minors, or easily influenced individuals. My content will occasionally include: s*xual, stoner, alcohol, horror, swearing, and other adult imagery/stories. My content will also occasionally be triggering for some individuals. The trigger warning involves (but, is NOT limited to): different kinds of ab*se such as: mental/psychical/relationship/etc., societal problems that affect myself/others, bloody/horror/macabre content, mental health/trauma, S*icidal thoughts/ideation/experiences, s*lf-harm, etc. (This isn't all the time but, it's often enough that I feel a warning is warranted.)
PLEASE ASK FOR MY PERMISSION BEFORE USING WHAT I CREATE, AND PLEASE CREDIT/TAG ME WHEN/IF YOU'RE SHARING/USING IT!
I previously had a bad habit for burring my posts in re-blogged posts so, my solution is to have a reblog-blog specifically for me to do that.
While I plan to run other media accounts (below) in hopes to boost my daydreams on how to make a living, I won't be opening accounts that're specifically dedicated to individual projects such as writing/comics/tattoo art/etc. (I can handle juggling "professional" and "personal" accounts at most right now. Maybe eventually I can separate my projects right now, it's just too much. Instagram Snapchat- (Coming Soon) TikTok- (Coming Eventually) Facebook
"Professional account" doesn't mean I don't get personal. A lot of my writing and art is fueled by my experiences, opinions, perspective, and mental health so, I do get pretty personal here. I recommend ignoring what doesn't vibe with you, or altogether unfollowing/blocking if need be. As I want others to be boundaried for their best interests this also means, I will block accounts as I see personally fit, my business endeavors are not included in that process. Additionally, this means this blog contains LBGTQIA2+ feminist prop*ganda, puns, and witchcraft. (See tags for more deets.)
I have NO intention of opening sales or commissions on this platform. I am a local artist who primarily paints/makes physical objects; I can't afford shipping products at this point in time, and I'm not planning for it. I'm on Tumblr for three (main) reasons: to find community based on mutual interests/opinions/etc., to show/see art & writing, and to find sh*tposts/memes.
My monetary goals (Short & Long term): Eventually, an online store would be nice but, a couple other things are currently my priorities. For the long-term: It'd be important to me, to make income off my writing (preferably my novel series, "Ruins" but, I also write poetry, short stories, and I'm working on a comic strip, "Blue & Siren") first.
As of right now, I'd like to get to a place where I'm comfortable; able to sustain myself (pay bills/buy food/etc.), consistently find success with markets, and give back to my community.
I changed my name because, "Crafty" felt (and was themed) too specific. 'Manifesting' can mean appearing, creating, or doing witchcraft, while also making a pun out of my name.
Posting Schedule- I'll be juggling my school, work, responsibilities, personal life, artistry, etc. though, I have an idea for how often I'd like to post. The idea of (hopefully) getting on a schedule would be to help limit my time spent doom-scrolling while also trying to make sure I keep up with posting regularly so notifications don't become overwhelming.
Practice makes progress, progress is a process, and perfection is a lie. I'm only human; I'm nuerodivergent, and doing my best. I'm bound to make mistakes, ret-con my own art/lore, and fall into mental-health pits/spirals/burn-out. I will likely not be consistent in what kind of content I post, nor how frequently, I do so. This isn't really to warn/apologize; it's to express that I want to cultivate a safe space for imperfection, to grow/learn.
#im trying i SUCK at social anything#about me#nuerodivergent#genderfluid#pansexual#acespec#small business#i know i have more edits to do here i will get to them eventually#witch bitch#artist#writer#painter#poet#fix later#intro post#introduction#hi i guess#questioning Demi-sexual vs Demi-romantic#nonbinary#lgbtqia2+#traditional artist#plans#formerly known as#social links#small artist
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Mikey from Cabin 15 would love it if your character(s) came on into the counselor's cabin for a sale! Everything inside must go ASAP before the cabin is sold! Anything painted green is 75% off! Buy one green thing and get another free! He urges you to come and check out all the amazing deals, and if you don't have cash he is willing to work another payment out! He hopes you come inside!
Ft. @justalittleobsessed’s Mikey
@tmnt-fandom-family-reunion
Don had been headed back to his nest, thoroughly tuckered out after helping with break-ins and officiating a wedding, but he kept passing by other campers with their arms full of...stuff. All kinds of stuff. Some of it painted a very familiar neon green. Oh. A large part of him wanted to ignore it, continue on his way to his secluded alcove to curl up and nap. The larger part of him was curious. So very curious. With a short resigned click Don gave in, following his hunch that the green painted belongings were originating from the counselor's now green painted cabin. And oh was he right. There were sale signs posted all over the log siding, flyers toting major discounts for anything splattered with the neon paint. Don couldn't help but snicker, his fellow campers were really taking the inch they were given and running miles with it. He approached the side of the cabin, already knowing that attempting to get in through the front door wasn't going to be comfortable. The window he had helped SpaceTour!Leon bust open was luckily still busted so Don made his way over, planning only to peek inside the DIY storefront, to lift himself up high enough to look over the window sill. Don was surprised to see his orange clad big brother offering sales pitches to a few remaining campers idling their way in between the counselor's bunks. Though actually...if Don took a moment to think about it, he shouldn't be surprised. This had Mikey written all over it. How this alternate version of his brother was able to gather supplies, make props, do set up, and handle quick outfit changes in such short periods of time was absolutely beyond Don's comprehension. There would never be enough experiments or tests in any universe to help him fully understand the inner workings of a Michelangelo's brain. He had tried...a couple of times, it wasn't worth the headache. Don pulled his eyes away from Mikey's expert bartering to take a look at the cabin. Leon had really done a number on the place, there were barely any surfaces not sprayed with the fluorescent lime paint. Don wondered how many other campers he'd managed to lure in with his plan, the collaboration was truly a work of art. As Don scanned the room he could make out little price tags taped or tied to a variety of the counselor's belongings, there were even a few floor boards labeled with sale stickers. He shook his head, a fond smile creasing the corners of his beak. There was even a checkout counter. Mikey had put so much thought into the set up, a true professional, not skimping out on any details. Don watched as the few remaining customers made their way out of the cabin and Mikey returned to his station behind the counter, humming happily as he stowed away his payment. Don stretched up on his hind legs further, just enough for him to properly rest his chin on the window sill, he tapped against the wood frame with his knuckles, letting out a low rumble to get the older turtle's attention. 'Is this place hiring? What's the hourly wage?'
@tmnt-fandom-family-reunion (Cabin 15) ~ Cadoo 🐾
#ggth!au#ggth!au comp.#2k3 tmnt au#tmnt fandom family reunion#2k3 tmnt#tmnt au#2k3 tmnt don#2k3 donatello#tmnt ffr cabin 15
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https://olderthannetfic.tumblr.com/post/744363402559995904/reading-the-anon-abt-the-doll-hobby-not-having#notes
More BJD wank.
People using alcohol markers on their dolls. Just... don't.... don't do that. Also, people complaining that the alcohol marker doesn't wash off the doll anymore. Yeah, who'd have guessed that using alcohold markers on a highly porous material would end up not being removable. Also, don't use oils. Do not use any paint strippers that contain oil. And only use water soluble glue.
People who sell some of the most beat up looking dolls, chewed limbs, broken pieces, yellowed to hell and back. And then expect $$$ and even more than full price of a new doll. Generally it's not particularly offensive, but by the Gods if it doesn't get obnoxious when someone starts whining that nobody wants to buy their trash heap.
The fujoshi discussion was also quite ripe. It's no secret that probably 80%+ of the regular BJD hobby is women, and a lot of those women like men. The fujoshi discussion gets brought up ever few months? Years? And it's stupid every time. I remember the most recent incident being started again by a transman who took special offence to the large amount of M/M doll couples, and started getting angry when people dismissed his very misogynistic reasons as to why it's bad. Then tried to flip it around to homophobia and transphobia against him specifically, when all the people just told him to stop treating fujoshi as an insult and blah blah, you know the drill. People didn't buy it that he didn't just wanna admit defeat, but it kinda fizzled out when some other trans people entered the discussion, and some gay/bi men who also said that this was a stupid discourse. Also a few pretty heartfelt experiences by women explaining why they preferred male dolls over female dolls.
"Put a trigger warning on your amputee doll characters." Not a big discourse, but a few people talked about how they had gotten comments or DMs about tagging their dolls who represent amputees with trigger warnings. General consensus was "Fuck those people." To make this extra clear, these were just amputee characters, not horror or gore.
Did I mention Nazi dolls? Because there has been several rounds of drama around Nazi dolls. Most people agree that Nazi dolls, aka full Nazi uniform with the armband are a huge fucking no-go.... BUT, some people try to argue that "Well if you depict the doll as a disgusting pig wearing a Nazi uniform..." Yeah, that was a long wank session.
The honestly kinda an pointless argument about "Are you racist if your dark resin doll face-ups look ass?" The argument is basically around dolls with dark resin tones who receive... unfortunate face-ups. The issue here is that in many cases the people getting called racist are really just bad at doing face-ups, which is especially hard on dark resins because it's hard to layer colors without it looking ass if you don't know what you're doing, and the main medium is just pastel chalks. Combine that with sealants that might leave behind a whiteish sheen with the topcoat, and you end up with a real ashy dusty looking mess. While we're on face-ups, generally a lot of face-ups just objectively look like ass when you're not a professional face-up artist. It's just what happens when you don't know what you're doing and still learning, because you don't wanna spend $$$ on sending it to an actual artist. It's really fucking hard layering colors, and then painting over it to get details when you're just not that experienced yet.
Also thanks to the one person in my last anon mentioning "Dollshe" and his wait times: Dollshe is a doll maker who's infamous for his year long wait times, and constant "sales." Apparently the dude bought himself a big fancy car, while people were still waiting for their dolls. Some wait times have exceeded half a decade. Guess what though! People still decided to take the chance. He's apparently closed shop now, and there are probably high double or low triple digits of people who haven't gotten their dolls yet. Not sure what his average price point is/was, but a quick check, the front page is filled with dolls starting at 800 going up. (So like 700-1 500) https://olderthannetfic.tumblr.com/post/744582859159945216/744363402559995904reading-the-anon-abt-the-doll-h#notes Also, yes, Anon is 100% correct. Smartdolls are basically just considered "honorary" BJD's because they fall under the same idea as the VOLKs dolfie dreams, and their creator just copied the idea. But generally, most people wouldn't refer to SMD's when speaking about BJDs, unless specified. Since they are vinyl you do not have the same artistic freedom as you have with resin dolls, which you can customize heavily with various mediums. They also aren't as available for custom face-ups, and apparently the creator has a bit of an ego problem when it comes to that as well. Another piece of drama: The joints of these dolls are internal skeletons as already explained. The problem a lot of people faced is that the joints would break quickly during posing. Under normal circumstances you'd maybe assume you could get some customer service to replace the broken joint, or at least be able to buy one for free. WRONG. You had(have?) to buy the entire skeleton just to replace one broken joint. I also think there was a time where you couldn't even get a replacement skeleton, and were left with a broken doll. Fun fact: Originally the "Smartdolls" were also supposed to be robotic, that's what the "Smart" originally referred to. That then got downgraded to a concept doll that got a bit of automated head shaking and limb moving, which then ended up with the creator backtracking and claiming "Smart" stood for "Social media art doll." Also, while we're at it, he also made a cochlear implant disability device for his dolls. A pretty significant amount of HOH/Dead-BJD people criticized the inclusion of said device because of some medical issues of it. And guess what! Banhammer. I also re-checked the story of the disabled person who got banned, and then made the creator post a "They aren't made for disabled people." The doll the disabled person struggled with was a male doll, but because the male dolls were so rare, they didn't have a male skeleton, but the female standard. Meaning the skeleton inside the male doll shell was female, and the skeleton didn't properly match up with the vinyl male-doll shell. Which was one of the main reason they struggled so badly to reattach the limbs. Bonus story: The creator has a real culty following, he has/had joined a few facebook groups around smartdolls. Apparently people noticed a pattern that he'd throw random tantrums in the groups, leave, and then the entire group had to grovel and praise him to get him to rejoin.
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Blog Post: Bringing Pet Paradise Boutique to Life - Our Operations Plan
Welcome to the Pet Paradise Boutique blog! Today, I’m excited to share the operations plan and how we plan to bring the premium pet products to market within the next six weeks. This journey involves careful planning, strategic purchasing, and a clear vision for launching the business successfully.
Operations Plan Overview
Purchasing Products: At Pet Paradise Boutique, thegoal is to offer high-quality, organic pet treats and personalized accessories that discerning pet owners will love. Here’s how i plan to source the products:
Organic Pet Treats: 1. will partner with local organic pet treat manufacturers and wholesalers. Initial research has identified several reputable suppliers who offer bulk purchasing options at competitive prices.
To ensure timely delivery, we’ve established communication with these suppliers and confirmed their ability to meet our initial demand within the next four weeks.
Personalized Accessories:
For personalized pet accessories, such as collars and tags, we will source customizable items from specialized manufacturers. These suppliers offer fast turnaround times for personalization, ensuring we can deliver unique products quickly.
By ordering a small initial batch, we can manage inventory effectively while gauging customer preferences and demand.
Bringing the Product to Market
With our products sourced and suppliers confirmed, the final six weeks of the course will focus on bringing Pet Paradise Boutique to market. Here’s our step-by-step plan:
Weeks 1-2: Website and Branding
Website Development: Finalize the user-friendly website where customers can browse products, make purchases, and book grooming services. We’ll use platforms like Shopify or Wix for easy setup and professional appearance.
Branding: Develop a cohesive brand identity, including a logo, color scheme, and packaging design that reflects our premium offerings.
Weeks 3-4: Marketing and Promotion
Social Media Campaigns: Launch targeted campaigns on Instagram and Facebook to build awareness and attract potential customers. Engage followers with contests, giveaways, and pet-related content.
Local Outreach: Participate in local pet events and markets to showcase our products and interact with pet owners directly. Distribute flyers and business cards to spread the word.
Weeks 5-6: Sales and Customer Engagement
Online Sales Launch: Officially open our online store for business. Monitor website traffic and sales closely, making adjustments as needed.
Customer Feedback: Encourage early customers to leave reviews and provide feedback. Use this input to refine our products and services.
Team Roles and Responsibilities
If working within a group, here’s how we’ll divide responsibilities:
Project Manager: Oversee overall operations, ensure deadlines are met, and manage supplier relationships.
Marketing Specialist: Handle social media campaigns, local outreach, and customer engagement.
Web Developer: Build and maintain the website, ensuring a smooth shopping experience for customers.
Product Manager: Manage inventory, coordinate with suppliers, and ensure product quality.
Licenses and Permits
Operating Pet Paradise Boutique may require certain licenses and permits, including:
Business Registration: Ensure the business is registered with local authorities in Kingston, Ontario.
Food Safety Compliance: Adhere to regulations for selling pet food, including proper labeling and safety standards.
Sales Tax Registration: Register for collecting and remitting sales tax on products sold.
Vision and Tools for Launch
Our vision for Pet Paradise Boutique is to create a premium shopping experience for pets and their owners, offering high-quality products and exceptional customer service. To launch our business successfully, we need the following tools and items:
Website Platform: A user-friendly e-commerce platform (Shopify or Wix).
Social Media Tools: Tools for managing social media campaigns (Hootsuite or Buffer).
Inventory Management: Software to track inventory and manage orders (TradeGecko or inFlow Inventory).
Packaging Supplies: Branded packaging materials to enhance the customer experience.
Marketing Materials: Flyers, business cards, and promotional items for local events
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lost in the forest - part 13
Masterlist
Summary: The clan is officially presented with their guest, and not all of them are happy.
Pairing: Senju Tobirama/Original Female Character
Tag: #lost in the forest fic
posted on ao3
Word Count: 3.4k
Overall warnings: canon-typical violence, adult content, time skips, angst, kidnapping
She can’t help comparing this with a day of bad meetings, where your boss just looks for who pays for the broken dishes of a poor planning where sales expectations were placed at the highest, with worse results. The tension, the looks... As a marketing manager, everyone points to this department as the one to blame for the lack of momentum.
Being that it is not.
Karen is familiar with that. She raises her chin, stands straight... and although this is not the same, she follows the rhythm of her light walk with her uncomfortable shoes and extravagant clothing. She wants to run, to not see these people who look at her with shamelessness.
The road is long... accompanied by the old woman named Kaori.
“Very good,” Mikami praises seeing the movement and judging her even at this moment. Seriously, she took this task very strictly to the letter.
A true professional.
Karen doesn’t say anything. She wants to turn around, analyze and observe this part of the house that she is sure she hasn’t been to before. Well, what is there to say of that hallway with a door she never saw but is the least of it being involved in the panorama of the event where silence reigns.
It’s obvious people are curious, morbid... they don’t want her there.
They arrive at a house of enormous proportions right in the middle of the cobbled roads of a complex of humble houses full of wood. Many dressed in kimonos form around the large plaza that forms in front of their goal.
Mikami and Kaori bow in respect... Karen doesn’t want to do it but gives in to the formality of those she can see in front of her. She wonders what kind of position Hashirama and Tobirama have whom they see in the middle, surrounded by a bunch of old people who she almost swears is the accursed council.
The people who have forced her out of her isolation... her depression and loneliness.
The culprits of her torture disguised as cultural learning.
“So this is the woman.” An old man with a long beard lightly caresses said facial decoration with curiosity, breaking the silence that spread through the place.
“Yes, she is.” Tobirama is the one who responds with a scolding gesture. She looks at the one with long hair who remains haughty... imposing. She never thought that the cheerful and mysterious Hashirama could look more intimidating than his brother. Karen gives him a point for it.
Making him stand out like a sure toe.
“Today is a day of festivities...” The softest of her kidnappers is in the front, while the bustle around her accelerates at her side... approaching as if she were the most important thing in existence. The civilian does not avoid being scared. So many presences maker her anxious after a year locked up without any contact.
Her beautiful anniversary is months away... how ironic.
She loses herself in what the host says, spending a few seconds rambling between the plans she wants to make from now on, what these people expect and preparing for the worst. “Karen-san?” Mikami is the one who calls to her side, making her blink at the interruption of her astral absence.
Almost projecting herself somewhere else mentally than where she is physically.
She feels how all eyes are focused on her back. There are whispers of ‘rude woman’ that she ignores among many other insults. “Karen?” Someone calls her forward. The man who shakes his hand smiles brightly, animated and full of life. “Come.”
“Uh... ” She wants to say a lot of things, especially that she is not the best at this moment for this kind of spectacle. Karen hesitates... She ends up smiling out of nervousness as she takes the hand of the one who waits calmly, precious seconds that many begin to misunderstand although it means little to her, including the look of death that Tobirama gives her.
“She will be important for the next step of our clan,” says the man next to her when he sees that all the people are looking at them. She smiles... hiding her nervousness by giving a warning squeeze to who does not let go. “In order to achieve something similar to peace.”
Hashirama looks confident, so honest in his desire that many people begin to applaud. She can see that the council does not look satisfied, much less understands her role at this point.
Karen doesn’t look, she stays in her safe position so as not to say the opposite.
“Hashirama?” The woman says almost in a whisper knowing that there will be no turning back from this. Things will change and she will be so tired of dealing with them.
“Do not worry... I told you, have confidence,” the man assures his accomplice and then looks at the council who is confused by thus action, denoting how rare her presence is among those people who she believes have the same bloodthirsty profession. “As a civilian noble, she will be important to continue dealing with the nobles, as you will see she has the necessary etiquette to negotiate with those who fear us and perhaps we can achieve peace.” He sounds so visionary that the others just smile.
But Karen knows what kind of smiles and false calm there is, remembering bitterly the meetings where the bosses... her superiors wanted to cut off heads for things that are not within their hands. Plus Hashirama just said that she is a noble... a title that isn’t hers.
“As a clan leader, you are an idealist,” says one with a high ponytail, a bitter old man who raises his chin without showing any type of expression. The people continue whispering... oblivious, obedient to what the two tall factions are exchanging.
And Karen is in the middle... great.
“I am... but for the future of the family,” Hashirama assures firmly.
“Does Tobirama-sama think the same?” Another calls, with a long beard and an ugly scar on his cheek.
“You do not have to ask,” the albino bites poisonously. “My brother has the idea and now, we can ensure that it lasts.”
“A civilian... Do you really want to entrust the future of our clan to a civilian?” Another old man with short hair and a lost look questions sincerely and harshly.
“She is not a simple civilian noble, she is a visionary... she does not fear us like the others,” the clan leader assures firmly. Karen feels that he is giving her a lot of credit either to saving her life or to prove her worth without knowing her.
Where does he get so much confidence from? Why does he put her in this predicament? Is it her only salvation? Couldn’t he say something less compromising?
“What do you say, girl?” Another spits poisonously, seeing her between two of the most powerful men of the clan. She blinks to gulp thickly and pretends... she remains her voice and gaze to those who look down on her.
“I may be a civilian, gentlemen, but I will adapt to what is planned and I shall give the pertinent suggestions to ensure that this does not remain in simple words and can have the best results,” Karen affirms, putting one last nail in that figurative coffin that she is easily making for herself.
Tobirama huffs from her back but doesn’t add anything else, although Hashirama laughs, lightly hitting her back almost making her fall. “I told you... it will be a new future...”
“Mph... we hope so, child,” the first old man who spoke to them accepts to look at the rest of the members of that mafia firmly.
“It is time to start the event. Enjoy the food and drink,” Hashirama declares with a solemn gesture in front of all eyes. The others cheer, smile and begin to organize themselves to start an event between gallant clothes together with smells that awaken hunger.
“Was it the only way?” Karen questions in her harsh language. She frowns at who returns a gesture different from the previous one.
“It was.”
“At least you could have warned me, right?” She feels irritated, used and extremely offended for being placed in this predicament.
“No... it was necessary,” the man stubbornly states, giving a gesture to Tobirama who snorts and rolls hie eyes.
“Of course... like everything else,” she complains. Remembering that she shouldn’t ask too many questions, she crosses her arms to look at the man. She has a lot to say, things to shout at him but in the midst of so many eyes that are still waiting for her to react badly it’s necessary to lower her presence when she is clearly the center. “And let me tell you... I am not a noblewoman,” she complains again.
“You are not?” The one with long hair blinks like an innocent owl and she frowns. She knows this is a performance but she doesn’t comment on anything else.
“It will not be difficult to appear to be. You do not look like someone who has worked the land hard nor a murderer,” Tobirama adds with a cold touch to the conversation.
“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Karen comments bitterly with a growing headache, she frowns and raises her eyebrow at who smiles expectantly. “So... leader, huh?” Better focus her attention elsewhere in this strange environment.
“Yes, the leader of the Senju clan,” Hashirama confirms with a tone full of pride.
Karen does not avoid raising her eyebrow. She more or less calculates his age at less than 25 which makes him very young for so much responsibility. “You are very young.”
“I am,” the leader blinks amused.
“Wow... I guess I won’t have any more surprises today... I hope,” Karen complains looking at the albino. “And your brother?” She reminds the one who remains indifferent and bitter, as if he had lost a fight that he had not been told about.
“Hashirama is my brother,” he says with a dignified frown, after exchanging a look with the black-haired man. Karen does not avoid looking at them with doubt, she compares them and notices a certain resemblance that is not so quick to grasp... again she exchanges a gesture between both of them to snort tiredly.
“I want to go now,” she complains with no desire to say anything else. She doesn’t want to think about the plot she got into where politics are so difficult to deal with. She massages the bridge of her nose, being ignored by both men who have a plan behind her back.
The beginning of such a drastic change in her routine.
──
She sits far from the noise that extends all night and gives another long yawn, looking at the stars with no desire to continue pretending to have a role in this society.
They have kidnapped her, isolated her enough that they dare ask her to maintain a role as a civilian noble who will help this clan grow.
It’s not her business... but it’s what she has in her hands.
“What would you do, dad?” She better decides to remember her old father, the one who always had the best solutions to problems and advised her in her difficult moments of crossroads.
She misses him... She wants to leave and Karen can’t.
“So you are noble,” some calls, scaring her. She recognizes her which makes her frown. “Wow... don’t be so hostile, I just want to be your friend,” she assures.
“...”
“I won’t take you out now.” The woman better focuses with a funny raise of her hands.
“What do you need?” She raises her eyebrow with dignity. She wants to shout so many things at her... because she went through a lot when she was taken out and found that first village.
Because she knows it was her... she will never forget it.
“Wow... now you understand my language, it was so tiring dealing with you.”
“...”
“I’m just saying, to be the leader’s pet you turned out to be of good blood.”
Karen does not take this bluff quickly. She frowns looking around where no one happens to pass by and tries to follow the path leaving this discomfort far away but is swiftly stopped by that woman.
Denoting that she is just as rare as Hashirama and Tobirama.
“You know... I don’t know what Hashirama-sama sees in you... or even Tobirama-sama... What did you did you give them?”
Karen simply raises her chin. “You better tread carefully...”
“Senju Touka,” the woman points out with pride and an ironic smile. She takes part of a lock of her hair lightly. “For a woman, you don’t have much to offer... noble or not, you’re just still a civilian.”
Karen does not avoid frowning at such a cheeky comment. She sighs to raise her hand. “I have no relationship with the brothers.”
“Huh?” The woman blinks.
“I know it’s uncomfortable to accept, but you don’t have to make me a target for intimidation when I have nothing to do romantically speaking with those men.” Karen prefers to clarify their relationship before this gets complicated. “I’m not interested in them.”
“What do you mean?!” The girl turns red at such an insinuation.
“Look... It’s complicated but as Hashirama said, I only come to see how I can help as a civilian... even if you think I’m useless, I have my uses.”
“You...” She shinobi simply blinks and opens her mouth a couple of times. “You don’t have to tell me that!” She squeezes her shoulders harshly.
“I just... Well, I think I misunderstood,” she frowns at the pain of such a small action.
“I... well, Hashirama-sama and I are childhood friends, I saw him grow up... it’s... well...” The woman stammers, a little uncomfortable with what she has said. Karen tries to escape when she thinks she is no longer paying attention.
The civilian simply falls on her back without any care. Touka is blushing at the little that was said, pointing out that in fact... although she does not accept it, she is romantically interested in those men.
She doesn’t roll her eyes because she’s busy rubbing her shoulders.
“You don’t know how hard they have tried! ...You won’t help them in ANYTHING when you’ve gotten them into so much trouble!”
“Touka!” Someone orders from behind the woman. She gulps to show a controlled Tobirama looking at her on the ground with little delicacy. “What exactly is happening here?”
“I...” She purses her lips, looking at the civilian who sighs.
“I fell... It's obvious,” she sighs bitterly, clumsily getting up with such an uncomfortable suit. “Touka just... well, she wanted to share part of her mind,” she shrugs.��
“Touka,” with a little warning and imposing feeling, she sighs to apologize and leave.
“Uh... you were hard on her.” She feels bad that she is scolded by one of her idols, blamed for it... but the situation was so lamentable.
Tobirama as always is not so surprised. “Hashirama sent me to look for you.”
“I didn’t run away.”
“You cannot.”
Karen doesn’t say anything. They both have enough history to add more bitterness to a bond that won’t be fixed and they both don’t want to have, so she allows herself to be escorted in silence without saying anything more that could break that strange pact.
The woman looks at Hashirama, who is talking to another old man very different from the ones presented before, although this one looks older than the previous ones. Ending up discussing politics is not the best closure for such a strange event.
Less when she has a lot to say and a few words that come to mind.
Karen thus had the first contact outside of her isolation, out of political obligation... The start of a series of triggers that would lead to another destiny so different from the one she believed.
──
She feels so tired that she can no longer keep her eyes open. The party continues and she is obviously the only one who is losing at sleep resistance as she sits on the edge of that main house in the middle of the enormous field.
There are drunk people, many who tried to approach her being interrupted by Tobirama... Mikami sometimes comes to scold her for her position as does Grandma Kaori.
“Do not fall asleep here,” Tobirama complains, looking at her pathetically leaning on the edge of her seat with the table in front of her.
“I’m sleepy.”
“Can you not hold on ...anymore?” He adds awkwardly in English, a stratergy he uses when he feels there are people listening to their comments. To be the leaders... they are too observed.
“I... I’m not used to it.”
“Seriously... are you not a noble?”
“I’m not,” she laughs just as much at that comment.
“You cannot hold on.”
“I’m not sorry about that,” the woman snorts slightly, yawning. “I’m not a noble but that’s already more than clear...”
“Then?”
“Then what?”
“You have little training... muscles, but I do not see your hands hurt. You are not a worker.”
“Not from the countryside or anything manual,” the woman clarifies, looking better at the sky when she feels her dream will not be soon. “I don’t know why I have to talk to you...”
“Mmmmm...” Tobirama raises his eyebrow in a call for attention.
“Look... I still dislike you, you don’t have to accompany me.”
“Hashirama is not here.”
The girl doesn’t comment anything, sitting in such an uncomfortable environment. She wants to leave, ignore the guy but people around her are so happy that she could break this strange moment.
“Is what Hashirama said true?” Karen asks out of nowhere to her silent partner, that gargoyle that always stands next to her.
“What?” He snaps bitterly.
“About peace.”
“It is none of your business,” the man declares coldly.
“If I remember correctly, Hashirama said I would help, so if you are going to get me into this, at least we must exhange something...” The woman frowns, not at all intimidated by the man’s position of respect for the clan, the fact that he could kill her or anything that makes her shut up.
A difficult thing... Karen is not one of those who keeps everything in her hoarse chest.
The albino frowns to look at the panorama they share in the middle of the festival. “We are at war.”
“I see.” Karen now understands why there was so much bitterness and mistrust if they are in difficult times. “War is complicated... a thing that should not exist.”
“Mph... you do not know what you are saying.”
“Just because my hands aren’t full of calluases or I haven’t seen the blood doesn’t mean that I don’t know what war is.” The woman twists her mouth, crossing her arms in an annoyed scold. “I know what it is, what it takes away and makes people change.”
“...”
“Where I come from... there were many wars, nations that fell... I just,” she sighs, not wanting to talk about the things she knows, the sad things in her world. “It can be achieved... peace...”
“Mph...”
“Do you not believe it?”
“It is not that I believe it... as long as Hashirama believes it,” he said with a cold tone... but somehow warm, strange about him, which makes her notice that he appreciates his brother a lot.
“Having siblings is great.” She focuses her interest better on another funny point of such a bitter conversation. Karen may be curious but she notices that there are things that are better to remain ignorant of.
“...”
“I have one... a little sister.”
“...I did not ask.”
“Uh... jerk," Karen does not avoid commenting, seeing that the guy really does not want her to share part of her thoughs. “That’s why you are the worst company... I jjst wanted to tell you things.”
“I do not need them.”
“Well... jerk,” she repeats in a frank complaint. The good thing is that Mikami and Kaori come at the same time to end this debate before they end up fighting for different opinions. They respectfully greet Tobirama to give the order to return to the house she now longs to be in.
She’s socialized enough tonight... too much for her liking when she’s already so used to isolation, loneliness and so on, that taking off her kimono would be the best gift along with the hard sandals.
Karen only had one thought when she got the her room... sleep. It woundn’t be such a bad idea.
A/N: As you can see, they will use her as something political, something that Hashirama has discussed a lot with Tobirama behind closed doors, because they have seen it... they know she can be useful in a non-combatant perspective... at least it was not the option of getting married as the councilors said.
Karen from now on will necessarily have more participation in different bureaucratic things that she will begin to correct and address. Not as an assistant because there are classified things... but at least the simplest things such as organization of what was purchased as input or things like that for the clan.
Finally going out to meet more people... Could it be?
Thank you for your comments. The story develops slowly, but surely it will go making its way little by little. Also, I remind you that the things written in bold is the local language of the Elemental Nations.
Author-chan out!
#lost in the forest fic#warring states period#angst#senju tobirama#tobirama x reader#tobirama x oc#ocs#hashirama senju#naruto#naruto shippuden#naruto fanfiction#senju touka#luchipuchi's writing
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Hi amukmuk, I'm very excited for the Chiss Ascendancy zine and would be willing to help mod, but I haven't worked in a zine before - what's the expected time commitment and actual tasks of the mods? I do have a busy schedule and wouldn't want to be forced to back out on you if I can't meet that commitment!
Heyo!
Full disclosure, I also have a crazy busy schedule so I plan to have long timeframes just so nobody feels like they have to crank something out in a week.
I've also separated out tasks below. Hopefully we'll have enough mods to do something like this!!
1. Social Media
In charge of posting informational and promotional material(s) to the zine's social media accounts, responding to asks/messages as well as keeping all pages up to date.
Should have experience and knowledge in posting on Tumblr/Instagram/Twitter as well as the common practice of tagging and etiquettes in Star Wars fandom spaces.
2. Shipping
Will survey the costs and suitability of plans for physical items and receive samples and final products from the manufacturers, repack for our buyers and then ship the packages.
Must have current residence in the USA.
Experience in shipping domestic and international packages from the USA is a huge asset.
Must have a printer.
You will work closely with Finance Mod.
3. Finance
Will receive and keep money from preorders and overstock sales in a bank account until it is donated.
Will purchase all products and pay all site and transaction fees out of the money received (you will not be spending your own money up front) and will track all income and expenses and keep digital receipts accessible.
Must have a debit card, a credit card, a PayPal business account (or a PayPal that you are willing to upgrade to a business account), a valid billing address and a social security number from the country of your residence.
You will work closely with shipping mod.
4. Layout
Will design the layout for the zine, how many pages, size of pieces, word count etc.
Will be communicating with the other mods and contributors to reconfirm the suitability of pieces, do readjustments where necessary etc.
Will also work with Graphics Mod where necessary.
5. Writing
Will moderate writer applications and the progress of written pieces for the zine.
Must be open to checking out contributors' progress and help them stay on schedule.
Might also become a default second copy editor.
Will also work with Copy Editor where necessary.
6. Copy Editing
Will help writers with their written pieces and become their beta readers once their work is ready -- especially for the writers who do not have beta readers.
Must have experience in writing and editing fiction -- must have a strong grasp of spelling, grammar, pacing techniques etc.
Will work with Writing Mod where necessary.
7. Art
Will moderate art pieces from applications and the progress of art pieces for the zine.
Must be open to checking out contributors' progress and help them stay on schedule.
Must be polite when giving out suggestions/criticism (only when sought by the artist) -- help the artist focus on their strengths etc.
8. Discord Server
Will be moderating and supervising the zine server, answering questions from contributors, enforcing rules and regulations, mediating conflict between server members, bring up questions or attention on certain issues to mods where necessary.
Must remain rational, objective and professional while communicating with contributors or while mediating conflicts -- regardless of differences in views/opinions.
Experience in moderating servers is a huge asset.
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What's the best method to boost my organic traffic by using the correct SEO practices?
Between all of the PPC ads, every website should have enough organic traffic, so that business owners are able to not only increase sales, but also boost their revenue ratio without spending a lot of money on PPC ads.
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End Thoughts
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