Creepycranberry - Talking To The Void - Tumblr Blog

is this anything

But like fr

Ghost stories

Sexting? Nah. I’m into spexting. Spooky texting. Ever seen a ghost? Hmu.

this is the money dog, repost in the next 24 hours and money will come your way!!

gravity falls fans:

Klaus knows how important last words can be. Letting Diego know he's on an Antonino Banderas level was lovely.

it should be illegal to take a nap and still have a headache when you wake up. like no i shut it off and back on again why are you still here

Reblog this if you would not only accept, but welcome fan art, moodboards, etc. of your fics

All of these used to be so common for people to show their appreciation of different fics and authors, and I think it’s a shame people don’t do it anymore. I love seeing fan work for my fics!!

theyre talking on the phone

Hi. Have a part 2 to the silly GF crossover thing

(Part 1)

[ID in alt text]

He's doing very important research

( @caps-clever-girl thank you for the hilarious tags, I giggled out loud when I saw them)

(Part 1) (Part 2)

Viktor getting kidnapped by the villain from Alvin and the Chipmunks is easily the funniest thing that's happened in the umbrella academy.

I'm sorry Viktor but of all people to get kidnapped by.

Why do writers apologize for long fics? why aRE YOU SORRY FOR FEEDING US POOR, SORRY SOULS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL ARTWORK WE COULD EVER DREAM OF READING?? DO MICHELIN STAR CHEFS APOLOGIZE FOR COOKING THE MOST DIVINE FOOD EVER MADE??? DO THEY APOLOGIZE FOR NOURISHING OUR BODY AND SOULS????

Hi there 👋,

My name is Mohammad, and I’m reaching out in a moment of desperate need. I’m a father of three young children living in Gaza, and we are caught in the midst of a catastrophic war. Our home is no longer a safe haven, and the future here seems increasingly uncertain. 💔

I’ve launched a fundraising campaign with the goal of raising $40,000 to relocate my family to a safer place where my children can grow up in peace and have a chance at a brighter future. 🕊️🇵🇸

Unfortunately, my previous fundraising efforts were abruptly halted when my account was terminated without explanation. However, I remain determined to keep fighting for my family’s safety and well-being. 🫶

If you could take a moment to read our story, consider donating, or simply share our campaign with others, it would make an incredible difference. Every act of kindness, no matter how small, brings us one step closer to safety and a new beginning. 🙏

Thank you for your time, compassion, and support. ❤

https://gofund.me/fd1faea2 🔗

I figured it out!

You might want to add a readmore to your showmance au. It's pretty long...

I did not mean to make it that long

But I also don’t know what a read more is or how to add one?

How- how do I do that?

BRO

Babysitting Mun | Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie Munson is the rockstar you have to work for, but most of the time, you feel like you are babysitting a teenager. He's messy, wild, and disobedient, and he never calls you by your name. He's sweet, though, but you are not allowed to think about that. Or in his smart mouth. Or in his hands playing that stupid guitar, shit.

A/N: hello my universe's angels, you asked, now you are receiving.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Interview | Part 8 |Part 9| Part 10 | Part 11

Your red boots were caked in mud. They would never have gotten this dirty in Los Angeles, but here in Glastonbury, the day was cold, cloudy, and damp. Even so, it was spectacular, you thought, as you watched people taking a short break to shop at the food stalls, not letting the mud, which could potentially reach their knees, ruin their outfits. They had come up with creative solutions using bags and even aluminum from the cardboard fries containers at a fast-food stand. You smiled and looked down; you didn't want to ruin someone's day by seeming like you were mocking their inventive efforts to combat the mud and water.

You walked toward the restricted area where the buses and trailers assigned to the bands were parked. Presenting your pass to the guard at the entrance, you carefully made your way through, making sure not to lose a boot in the process. You looked at the Corroded Coffin trailer and sighed, seeing that you still had a long way to go. You continued slowly until you took a few steps when you heard a door from a nearby trailer open and stopped to avoid looking foolish in front of someone.

You looked around, moving your hair out of your peripheral vision, and spotted the staircase outside a trailer a few meters away. You smiled and raised your hand to wave. Will Walsh was dressed in a large, seemingly warm jacket with a fleece lining. Not only did he return your wave with a smile, but he also walked over to you, closing the distance to just a few steps away.

"Hi, Will," you greeted, unsure if he would even remember your name from that infamous conversation in Los Angeles a few weeks ago.

"Fey," he greeted back, his blue eyes meeting yours. "Are you stuck?" he asked.

"I…" you looked at your boots buried in the mud and smiled nervously. "No?"

He smiled, amused, observing the slow process of you lifting your boots and taking a step.

"Do you need a hand?" he offered, his gaze returning to you.

"Oh, no, don’t worry," you quickly dismissed it and frowned in confusion when you saw him. "What are you doing?"

He draped his jacket over your shoulders, and the heavy, waterproof fabric pressed against your knitted sweater.

" We can tell an American by their attire; they’re always caught out by our rain and haven’t got a clue how to navigate the mud," he added with a teasing tone, and you rolled your eyes.

"Yeah? Well… at least we know how to laugh at ourselves," you replied, adjusting the jacket over you. "Thanks," you murmured, feeling strange under his clothes, smelling his perfume. Will Walsh’s perfume.

Yes, it felt wrong, like you had suddenly developed a strange allergy to other people's jackets.

" So, you didn’t go then, did you?” he asked, apparently trying to make conversation.

"Uh, no. My decision, anyway," you clarified. "I’m not going to leave Eddie… the band," you corrected yourself quickly. "And no offense, but I would never work for your brother."

He, of course, didn’t seem offended.

"Don’t worry, if I were you, I wouldn’t work for him either."

" Thank you for thinking of me, though" you admitted, bending down to take one of your boots between your hands and help yourself out of the mud. When you did, you smiled at him. "It was nice seeing you, Will."

He surprised you mid-sentence by picking you up in a bridal carry.

" Alright, where’s the trailer then?."

"Will," you said, feeling awkward in his arms, looking around to make sure no one was watching. There were a couple of guards and technicians who glanced curiously but went on their way, and you felt your cheeks flush. "I’m sure you came out of your trailer to do something, and that something isn’t this."

He laughed, adjusting you in his arms, making you clutch his shoulder with the fear of falling into the mud.

"My brother, who you’d never work for, was driving me mad, so I decided to find something to take my mind off it."

"Well, you’re welcome, then" you murmured, still feeling strange. "It’s that one over there," you pointed, and Will began walking in that direction.

"And how have you been?" he asked.

You rolled your eyes. "Please don’t try to normalize this," you asked with a trembling voice, making him laugh, but he didn’t say anything more for the entire length of the walk.

"Alright, we’re here," he said as you finally set your muddy boots on the metal of the Corroded Coffin trailer.

"Thanks, Will. I hope you can find someone to work for your brother," you wished him honestly. "People climb cliffs and swim with sharks because they love danger. Maybe one of those would be interested in working for him."

Will let out a hearty laugh, genuinely amused.

“I don’t think so, Fey, but it’s not my concern.," he said solemnly. "I’ll leave him to it," he admitted, then smiled as if saying it out loud was a relief.

You frowned, almost fearful.

"He’s going to want to destroy you," you murmured. "He’s conflicted and very vengeful…" you emphasized.

"I know," he nodded, completely unperturbed by your words  "And he’s my brother… I know him inside out. I can tell what he’s going to do before he does it. Plus, the press knows him too; he’ll try to cause trouble and give interviews, but no one will bite."

"He’s the industry's spoiled brat, and you’ve been the toy he’s been beating up since I’ve read about you in the magazines," you cleared your throat. "I hope your new career goes well. You’re talented, charismatic, and good-looking; you’re going to make it as a solo artist, and now is the time," you said, starting to say goodbye. Then he buried his hands in his jeans pockets.

" I’m going to need a manager, you know," he said, just like that, as if talking about something routine.

Oh, Will, the sky is blue. Water is wet.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. You were frozen there, and your stomach really started to ache. It was an excellent offer, undoubtedly much better than being the assistant to his problematic brother. But for some reason, your immediate instinct was to say no. However, it wasn’t coming out of your throat, as if it were digging its nails into your flesh, struggling against your will.

"Will…"

"You don’t have to say it now. I know about your skills, and I’m aware you’re Eddie’s assistant, but I also know how lucky the band is to have you. That manager of theirs is just window dressing. We all know that, don’t we?" He rolled his eyes. "Robert’s history, and he’s hanging onto Corroded Coffin with all his might because if he loses them, he’ll be done for."

"Thanks, Will," you finally managed to speak. "But I don’t think… thank you," you repeated awkwardly. "But I…"

You felt the door behind you open and turned to find Eddie. But he wasn’t looking at you; his eyes were on Will. His brow was slightly furrowed, and his gaze was intense.

"Will Walsh," he greeted.

Will gave him a slight smile and waved his hand in greeting.

"Hey, Munson, getting ready for the big show?"

His brown eyes darkened.

"Mmmyes," he muttered, not in the mood for conversation, and his eyes fell on you, still on the stairs, and settled on the jacket over you. "Fey-wild."

You blinked and felt like a child being scolded for something they had done wrong. But what? What the hell had you done now?

You cleared your throat and smiled.

"And the guys? I ordered the spicy chicken they wanted; it’ll be delivered in a few minutes," you informed, but to Eddie, the rock star who had almost thrown a tantrum an hour ago about wanting spicy chicken, it now seemed like he couldn’t care less about the food you had been tasked to buy.

"I’m writing songs; they were on my way," he huffed.

You pressed your lips for a few seconds. If it weren’t for Will, being the only witness to this conversation, you’d already be telling him to fix his face and remove the stick that seemed to be stuck up his butt.

"So that makes me a burden too," you conceded. "And Robin? Steve"

"She went to see a feminist rock band that’s performing now. Steve went with her; a place full of ladies and Steve, if you know what I mean," at least he had the decency to answer.

"Bless them" you looked up at the cloudy sky for a moment.

" Why don’t you come with me? We were discussing something important anyway," Will offered kindly.

Oh, and bless you too, Will. Sweet, innocent Will, who was too focused on being a polite Brit to notice Eddie’s nostrils beginning to flare.

"Yeah, I bet," Eddie muttered under his breath and took a step closer to you. He gently removed the jacket but tossed it carelessly to Will, who managed to catch it before it hit the ground.

You looked at him apologetically. You wanted to apologize, but you didn’t know why.

"She can’t, I need him here. When I write, I have cravings… coffee, for example." Eddie replied.

You turned to look at him in confusion. "You’re going to sing tonight; I’m not sure coffee is a good idea," you reminded him.

He placed his hands on your shoulders and closed his hands around your sweater, which was still somewhat damp from the light drizzle you had encountered earlier.

"You’re right, Fey. What would I do without you?"

You smiled with irony.

"I don’t know, Eddie, but you’re about to find out," you whispered between your teeth and then turned to Will. "I’m going to accompany Eddie. Thanks again for the jacket, Will. See you later, okay?"

He nodded.

" Yeah, I want to see Corroded Coffin tonight. I’ll be the one singing all your lyrics, mate," he said goodbye to Eddie and started walking toward the exit.

Once he was far enough away, you stopped smiling and looked at Eddie with a furrowed brow.

"Oh, He was too nice to you, and you didn’t need to be that rude” you started complaining “He is too sweet for you, idiot”

He looked at you, completely ignoring your comment. "What did he want to talk to you about anyway, Fey?"

You felt your face tighten. "Nothing important or concerning you."

Now he was the one frowning.

“It concerns me, Fey. I’ve told you, Freddie Walsh is so much worse than I am.”

You shook your head and laughed wearily. “And I told you I wouldn’t work for him! How many times do I have to repeat it? You don’t need to worry about me,” you reminded him. “And he wasn’t offering me an assistant job for his brother,” you added, your tone calmer. “I’m not leaving you, Munson,” you reminded him of the promise you made at Steve’s party, and his features began to soften.

“Then come inside the trailer and stay,” he requested. “Please, and I won’t bring up Will Walsh or his brotha' ” he mocked “again.”

You sighed slowly and finally nodded. “Alright.” You began to enter the trailer, taking off your boots and leaving them outside, sure that no one would be interested in stealing muddy boots.

“And take this,” he offered you an old sweater. You recognized it; it was one he always wore when he wasn’t preparing for a promotional event or a show—a knitted vest with holes he proudly collected over time. The reason he kept it when he could afford a hundred sweaters must be significant, and you weren’t going to question it. You looked at him with a question in your eyes.

“I don’t want you getting sick with the European tour just starting,” he explained, and it was enough persuasion for you. You went to the trailer’s bathroom and put on the oversized, old sweater without a word.

When you came out, you found him recording guitar chords on his recorder while mumbling nonsense that you knew would later become music. You’d never seen Eddie compose before; you’d seen him scrawl a few lyrics or ideas on his hand, napkin, paper, or someone’s hand if there wasn’t enough space. You’d seen him vomit countless times, seen him in his underwear, and you could even swear you’d seen his butt more than once (not voluntarily, at least). You have seen him with his friends, sad, vulnerable, and angry. However, seeing him compose, hearing raw melodies that weren’t even close to the final result, felt deeply intimate, as if you weren’t supposed to be there, sitting next to him, witnessing his process. You stretched the sleeves of the vest that smelled of Eddie, tobacco, and his conditioner, and looked at his hands—the veins you could notice and how the tendons tightened as his fingers changed position. He managed to keep the rings from touching the strings, a skill achieved through experience. His hair fell over his face, and occasionally he brushed it aside while humming sounds that, in time, would become words filling verses and stanzas. And remind everyone why he was loved, applauded, and adored at the end of the day.

“This hair,” he murmured with a furrowed brow, not stopping his guitar playing or recording, “I think it might be time for a haircut, don’t you think?” he asked. “All mature singers do it at some point.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “You said it… mature.”

He stopped his fingers mid-chord and looked at you with a faux grumpy face. “Ha-ha.”

You smiled, approaching him and removing the hair tie from your wrist, and began to take his hair between your fingers. It was silky, probably the thing he took most care of after his guitar, so you weren’t surprised when it flowed through your hands. He let you style it like a lost child or a large wild cat being tamed. Your fingers gently scratched his scalp as you combed through the stray strands and gathered them into a bun. The silence was too much, too intimate, too domestic for you. So you broke it.

“Brian May hasn’t cut his hair,” you reminded him. “Besides, it’s not a good idea—Metallica, Load single press pictures, remember?” you reminded him of the haircuts the members of that band had undergone, and Eddie grunted. You finished making the bun of hair on his head and smiled, returning to your safe place on the couch where you had been sitting. “Hair is a superpower. It’s not just about image,” you declared.

Eddie smiled at you and glanced at his recorder. “See? You have your notebook, and I have my recorder. I guess we’re always prepared, right?” he said, returning to playing the guitar.

“I guess so,” you murmured. “What are you working on now?”

“Next album, babe, it’s going to be the best.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s always the best.”

He looked into your eyes as if he were giving you a lesson without speaking. “Trust me, Fey, this one is the best,” he said, suddenly standing up and making you jump, catching you off guard. He held his fist in front of his mouth, tapping it with his index finger from the other hand, as if checking if a microphone was on.

“What are you doing, crazy?”

He didn’t seem to notice, instead clearing his throat and speaking in a serious voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, we interrupt this muddy festival to bring you Eddie Munson’s new songs, though we can’t promise they’ll be free from a bit of wetness” he added with a mischievous tone.

You let out a laugh that Eddie happily captured with his recorder. You looked at him with bright eyes and shook your head. “You’re ridiculous, Mun. Now sit back down and keep playing.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded and sat back down, taking the guitar. “Alright, I’ve been working on this…” he started playing some very familiar chords.

“Seriously, Munson? Wonderwall?”

He looked at you with feigned surprise. “What? Never heard of it. Just something I came up with on the spot.”

“Sure you did,” you laughed, watching him with dancing amusement in your eyes. He smoothly transitioned into “Time of Your Life” by Green Day, glancing at you as if waiting for a reaction. You raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress your laughter. “You’re really pulling out all the stops today, huh?”

Eddie shrugged, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “Just another random tune, Fey. Total coincidence.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he strummed the familiar chords, his voice teasingly off-key as he sang a line or two. “You’re terrible at pretending, you know that?”

Eddie chuckled, shaking his head. “Hey, I’m just trying to entertain you. I’m a man of many talents.”

He then switched to “Creep” by Radiohead, his fingers moving effortlessly across the strings. He threw in a dramatic pause, looking up at you with wide, innocent eyes. “This one sound familiar too?”

You covered your mouth, trying to stifle your laughter. “Munson, that’s ‘Creep,’ come on! You’re not fooling anyone.”

Eddie finally broke, his own laughter filling the trailer. “Okay, okay, you caught me. But you have to admit, I had you going for a second.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “Not even for a second, Munson.”

He grinned, setting the guitar aside and leaning back, clearly pleased with himself. “Well, at least I got you to laugh.”

You met his gaze, your smile softening. “Yeah, you did.”

For a moment, you sat in comfortable silence, the earlier tension completely melted away. Eddie’s playful antics had worked—you were back to your usual rhythm, a little closer, a little more in sync.

Eddie tapped the guitar and gave you a knowing look. “Next time, I’ll make sure to play something you really don’t know.”

You smirked. “Good luck with that.”

Yeah, and good luck to you. The beating of your heart cannot be ignored anymore, lady.

The backstage of the Glastonbury festival is a hive of activity and excitement. The cables of the equipment intertwine on the ground, creating a chaotic web that the technicians try to manage with skill. The air is filled with a mix of aromas: damp earth, beer, and Scotch whisky. The distant crowd makes the ground vibrate slightly, adding an extra layer of nerves and anticipation to the atmosphere.

Eddie and you are on the edge of the stage, surrounded by the bustle of preparations, while you watch the huge crowd waiting anxiously. The distant roar of the people feels like a wave threatening to engulf everything in its path. Your stomach churns with a mix of nerves and excitement.

You turned your gaze to the stage entrance, where the sound of the crowd is almost deafening. “Oh Mun, have you ever seen such a crowd?”

He shakes his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “Each one is unique, Fey,” he said, not preventing the excitement from seeping into his voice. “Glastonbury is something else. But hey, Corroded Coffin has faced enough monsters, right?”

You laugh, feeling the tension in your chest ease a little. “True. Just, you know... this time there are no real monsters”

Eddie laughs and then looks at you with a mixture of seriousness and excitement. “Just a sea of people, waiting to have their minds blown. No pressure.”

You laughed. But before you could respond, Robin approached you. As Eddie adjusted his guitar like an extension of his body, she came closer with her usual ease.

“Where’s Steve?” you asked, noticing his absence. You had barely seen the guys today; you had been running errands in the morning, and in the afternoon, you had locked yourself with Eddie not composing, as you had just laughed in a bubble that you had found difficult to break when the guys came back to the trailer to get ready for the show.

Unconsciously, you stroked the fabric of Eddie’s sweater that was still on you, as a reminder of that afternoon.

Robin rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, he’s out there in the crowd. Met a girl, and didn’t want to mention Eddie, so he’s flying under the radar tonight. Can’t blame him. Last time a girl tried to seduce Eddie on his birthday, it was the date Steve had brought.”

You would have laughed, but you imagined how cruel it could have been and how Steve’s morale might be after that. “That’s tragic, poor Steve.”

Robin’s eyes suddenly lit up with mischief as she leaned in closer. “Speaking of tragedy... I heard Will Walsh was doing his best knight in shining armor impression a while ago. Something about you and the mud, Fey?”

You tensed your face.

“Shutup,"

The muttered words left your mouth between clenched teeth, only for her to hear. But it was too late.

Eddie’s ears had caught that unfortunate choice of words, and his mind had already started recalling the whole Will Walsh situation.

You rolled your eyes. “It wasn’t as dramatic as it sounds. I just got stuck, and Will was there.”

Robin let out a chuckle, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Honestly, I think even I would faint if Will Walsh carried me in his arms.”

You wanted to kill her. Oh, Robin was dead.

You let out an awkward laugh and glanced sideways at Eddie. His eyes slightly narrowed as he listened to the conversation while adjusting the strap of his guitar.

You finally smiled, trying to downplay the situation. “It was just an embarrassing situation, Robin. Nothing more.”

Robin smiled, giving you a knowing look, but didn’t press further. “Sure, sure. Well, I’m just saying, if you ever need a rescue from an ‘embarrassing situation’ again, let me know. Or, you know, maybe I’ll just stay close, waiting to be rescued myself.”

“You don’t even like Will Walsh,” Garreth raised his voice from across the room, trying to save you from the conversation. “Hell, he’s not even your type.”

Robin flipped him the bird while the rest laughed.

Thank God.

Eddie intervened, approaching you with his casual tone but with a hint of something more. “What’s up with Will Walsh? He’s not causing trouble, is he?”

You spoke too quickly.

You crossed your arms, meeting Eddie’s gaze, trying to gauge his mood. “No trouble. He just helped me. That’s it.”

Robin looked between you and Eddie, then opened her mouth, slightly surprised, as if she had just discovered something she shouldn’t have. She began to back away a little then.

“Well, I think I’ll go look for Steve. Good luck out there, guys. And Eddie, don’t let the crowd devour you.”

Eddie smiled, but his eyes remained fixed on you, and yours on him. “I’ll handle it. Thanks, Robin.”

He stepped closer to you, suddenly the noise and staff instructions seemed to fade away as if you were inside a fish tank, and Eddie’s voice became lower, more intimate. “Remember what you told me about finding adrenaline in less risky ways?”

You nodded, unsure where he was going with this.

Without warning, Eddie took a step closer, crossing the line of your personal space, his hand gently holding your arm as he pulled you toward him. And before you could react, his lips were on yours: firm, intense, filled with something that made your heart race. It ended as quickly as it began, leaving you breathless and stunned.

And wanting more.

Wanting so much more.

You’re no longer as scared as you were the first time.

Eddie pulled away, his gaze steady as he observed your reaction. “That’s all the adrenaline I need. Thanks for the suggestion, Fey,” he added with a smile.

You stood there, trying to catch your breath as he walked toward the stage with the guys who had pretended not to see anything, and that scared you because it would be a ticking time bomb. You hugged yourself, feeling a sudden chill. The roar of the crowd grew as Corroded Coffin prepared to give the performance they were all waiting for, but all you could think about was the feel of Eddie’s lips and the unspoken promise in his eyes.

Tag list: @sapphire4082 @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @darknesseddiem @kikiandbella @moonisu @idkatee @daisy-munson @amandahobblepot @loves0phelia @eddieslooneymoonie @black-kitten-imagines @oscarisaacsleftknee @dreamerjj @clown420cunt