#put one of their posters up in my bunk | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-witty-pen-name · 1 month ago

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Video Girl

Modern AU

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Youtuber!F!Reader

Summary: Eddie stumbled across your YouTube channel when you posted a review about Corroded Coffin’s newest album. Now, he’s binged all your videos and your channel has become his “comfort channel” that he has on all the time while he’s feeling lonely on tour. When they’re invited to perform at a convention he wonders if he’ll finally get the chance to meet you.

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: pining; fluff; angst; cyber-bulling/mean comments directed towards reader; kissing; slowish burn; eddie absolutely down bad; substance use; cursing

A/N: he convention is essentially VidCon- I’ve never been to VidCon or any other type of convention before. I have no idea what I’m really talking about but this is like my best guess as an outsider as to how conventions like these may look? Sorry in advance. I really loved the idea of the reader being a content creator but I don’t know the details on how being a creator at a con would work haha I did my best.

Eddie falls asleep every night to the sound of your voice.

When the tour bus is driving overnight as they head to the next city, he rests his phone on the wall of his bunk, watching YouTube videos with the volume low as he tries to drift off. One of your videos had played as a recommendation automatically and he was too tired to turn off his phone. He laid on his stomach, too tired to move but still not fully asleep.

“Hey everyone,” you smiled, offering a wave to your video's viewers. “I’m really excited for this video- it’s been literally requested non-stop since my last Corroded Coffin video-”

The mention of the band, makes his ears perk and he opens his eyes again- suddenly not as tired as he just was a second ago. You’re holding up a copy of the band’s newest vinyl and talking about how this video will be your live reaction to listening to it for the first time.

Eddie usually doesn’t watch or pay attention to reviewers- he doesn’t really care for typical critics. However, he just ended up watching it. He smiles to himself as you excitedly tear the plastic to open your vinyl, and you show your viewers a tour of the record sleeve, the photos inside, everything visual. You beam excitedly at the included square posters and the book with the lyrics. You hold up one of the posters.

“Literally the hottest guy I think I’ve ever seen,” You smile bashfully, the poster showing Eddie playing his guitar at one of their shows. Eddie can’t help but blush. “You guys already know, Eddie Munson is my celebrity crush- has been for like years… ever since the EP came out like what? 6 years ago? He’s gorgeous. Anyways…” You get back on topic, focusing on talking about the visuals and the album's concepts. You provide your own opinions and interpretations and Eddie can’t help but just really appreciate how much you appreciate all of the effort the band put into every aspect of the album.

Eddie can’t help as his whole chest swells with pride with each of your reactions. You practically jump out of your seat with excitement at the riffs, the way you head bang to the drum solos, the way you pause and take your time to absorb lyrics. It’s so endearing. He’s smiling to himself as you go on excitedly.

From that moment, he watched everything you posted. Your channel was a bit eclectic- album reviews, gaming, vlogs… he watched everything. Your vlogs were probably his favorite. When he’s in his bunk winding down, it kind of feels like being on FaceTime with a friend. He loves watching just the normalcy of your life compared to his. Sometimes, his heart aches for simplicity like that. He can picture himself there, sitting with you in your car after you went through the drive through, taking you to the bookstore, helping you cook. He wishes he could have something like that.

“Holy shit guys,” you smile, you cover your face with your free hand while you hold your phone. Using his burner account, Eddie is watching your most recent TikTok that’s been reposted to your Instagram story. You show a paparazzi photo that’s been taken of Eddie recently, you zoom in and show that under his flannel and his jacket, he’s wearing your merch. “Eddie Fucking Munson is wearing my merch! My merch! Shit, this can’t be real. That’s my shirt!”

Eddie recognizes where that photo was taken almost immediately. He’s walking out of the hotel they stayed in last weekend after their shows in Toronto. He and the other guys were leaving out the back entrance, thinking they’d be safe from view. Of course, there was a pap with a long lens.

He’d been up all night, and he looked like it. His hair was even more unruly than usual, he was sporting dark under eyes, and he was wearing the clothes he went to bed in- old sweats and your shirt. He was embarrassed to have a photo of him like that circling around the internet. No matter how often it happens, he can never get used to it. It always sucks.

But right now, you are so happy and it’s all Eddie can focus on. You’re smiling so wide, and he’s the reason for it. Your eyes are big with excitement and it’s like your joy is jumping off his phone screen directly into his chest. He couldn’t even care less about the picture now, or how he looks. It doesn’t matter. He’s just happy watching you be happy. All of his initial worries just melt away as you talk to the camera.

“I can’t even wrap my head around that one- Eddie Munson knows I exist. And two, he’s watched my videos? Jesus Christ, I don’t know if I’m more excited or embarrassed,” you flush. Eddie chuckles. He likes the story and puts his phone down so he can focus. Later on, the same warm feelings bubble up again when he sees that you tweeted that since that photo began to circulate, you’ve gained thousands of new followers and that your tshirt completely sold out on your site. You tweet at him directly thanking him. He screenshots it.

Eddie originally wasn’t thrilled about the band going to perform at a convention right in the middle of their break on the tour. A beautiful month of doing nothing now suddenly interrupted. However, when you post that you’re going- he doesn’t mind so much anymore.

Apprehension clouds his mind once he starts to think about it too much. You’ll probably think he’s a freak- some creepy stalker if he ever admits to you how much he watches your content. Despite you saying many times that he’s your celebrity crush, he can’t imagine living up to any sort of idea of him that you have in your head. He’ll fall short, you’ll reject him, and he’ll never be able to live it down. It’ll break him.

You’re a nervous wreck as you look over the schedule- your eyes narrowing on the line-up of live performances. How in the hell did the convention center manage to book Corroded Coffin? You haven’t been able to think about anything except Eddie Munson since your friend had sent you that photo. Your mind races with questions. You want to know how many videos he’s seen- has he seen the ones where you essentially make a fool of yourself talking about him? Does he even know who you are or is it someone else’s shirt? Is he a subscriber? You can’t even fathom that you exist in the timeline where one of the biggest stars on the rise in some capacity knew of your existence.You can’t even think straight.

Fans are screaming outside the convention center as the band arrives in a large black SUV. Eddie’s palms are sweating, and he is more nervous than he thought he’d be. The anxious feeling he’s experiencing has nothing to do with the crowd, the cameras, the performance- it’s all because of you. Looking at the building they will shortly be escorted into, all he can think about is how you’re here- after the months of pining from behind the security of his phone, he’s going to be at the same place as you. He can’t let the opportunity to meet you pass him by.

Jeff and Gareth shove him to pay attention when he doesn’t look up from his phone when the car finally stops. They exchange a knowing look that Eddie deos his best to ignore. He got wrapped up in photos of you- watching your story as you post selfies with your friends as you’re walking around the convention center. Your smile is infectious to him. He resolved a while ago it was the prettiest he’s ever seen, coming to terms with the fact that he's helplessly smitten. He tucks his phone securely into the pocket of his jeans, and follows quickly behind his bandmates as they are ushered into the building safely.

“Corroded Coffin just got here,” your friend squeals, as she shows you a livestream someone is taking from outside. You watch Eddie on the screen as he quickly walks into the building. He’s wearing the goddamn shirt again. Your face feels overwhelmingly hot as this begins to feel all too real. He waves to fans with a goofy, wide smile- sticking out his tongue and throwing up the devil’s horns with one of his hands. You watch his laughter and it makes your heart ache.

He looks good. You’d think he’d look silly with the pink shirt but he looks so undeniably hot. He’s wearing black ripped jeans, heavy boots, and your baby pink shirt with the sleeves cuffed accentuating his tattoos. Your channel’s name is splayed across the expanse of his chest and you swear you short circuit. It’s only then that you fully allow yourself to admit that Eddie Munson not only knows that you exist- and he’s a fan.

Your friends chatter excitedly, freaking out about the situation- because duh. Who wouldn’t be? You can’t even think because your heart is beating so incredibly loud and fast, and adrenaline is making your head throb. It’s a sensory overload, and you feel like you can’t wrap your head around it. You physically shake your head to try to subside the feeling. You needed to be on- you had to finish setting up your booth, be ready to meet people who subscribed to you. You couldn’t let yourself get bogged down by this, at least not yet.

You hurried to get your table ready- tablecloth with your logo displayed on the front, merch folded into neat piles, your business cards in a small tray. Your channel name was displayed on a banner behind you that you had made to match. Your friends helped you set up the portable POS system as you set up a rack that you filled with your stickers. You didn’t really care if people bought anything, you were just excited to meet the people you’ve interacted with online since you started your channel.

Understandably, a lot of people who approached your table immediately started asking you about Eddie. It was a lot of the same questions over and over but you didn’t mind that so much. They all had asked the same things you had been asking yourself- and you wanted to know the answers as badly as they seemed to.

“No, no. I haven’t met him.”

“No, I didn’t know he watched my videos.”

“Yeah, it’s really crazy.”

“No, I didn’t send PR.”

“Yeah, no. I didn’t pay him to wear it.”

Eddie anxiously shook his leg, trying to figure out if he could sneak away. Unfortunately, most instances- it feels like his time isn’t his own. He wishes he could just walk around with Jeff and Gareth, but there’s no way to safely do that. Everything needs to be planned out, timed out and they always need security. He doesn’t want to complain- it’s that everything needs to be a thing. He can’t just go up and talk to a girl. He needs to tell his security, who also needs to coordinate with the building security. It needs to be added to the timeline of the day. Before he knows it, there’s like fifteen moving pieces that need to be put in place so he can walk up to you.

He knows it’s easier to just ask for you to be brought to him. He feels like that’s cheating. He’s the fan- he’s the one wanting the experience of meeting you. It makes him feel icky- sending buff intimidating security guys to ask you to follow them blindly- taking you away from the fun and people just so he can say hello? Makes him feel like he’d look like a douchebag. He understands it needs to be you in your world- he doesn’t want you to be the one who feels out of place. But then on the other hand, he’s drawing all this attention towards him and inadvertently to you if he does this. He worries about the scene he’s inevitably going to cause and he hopes you don’t resent him for it.

It’s towards the end of day one. Most attendees are making their way over to the auditorium for some of the other live performances. Since Eddie figured most people would be heading to that while the vendors were getting ready to partially break down their booths, it might be the perfect time to walk around. It ended up working out more perfectly than Eddie would have hoped.

Jeff and Gareth wanted to check out the other acts that were performing, so they went to go watch the concert. Eddie was able to walk around the near empty convention halls with his head of security following a couple of steps behind. He can see you in the distance. He feels warmth bubble up as he just observes your actions briefly from a short distance.

You’re packing up your merchandise and putting them into boxes, tucking them under your table to keep it out of the way until tomorrow. Three teenage girls cautiously approach you and you immediately stop everything to offer each of them a hug. You smile and chat with them- taking your time to ask them questions and thank them for talking to you. You ask them if you can take a picture with them and they nod enthusiastically. You wrap your arms around them like you’ve known them forever as your friend offers to take the picture. You hug them all again, sincerely thanking them for coming over to talk to you.

Without needing him to ask, his security lets him approach you on his own. He stands far enough back that Eddie can feel independent but still close enough he can jump in if he needs to interfere. Eddie’s been racking his brain all day for the best thing to say to you when he finally gets to meet you. Of course, he has nothing. He’s so nervous and he’s praying to God that you won’t be able to tell.

“Hey,” he says shyly as he approaches. He walks with his hands stuffed in his back pockets.

Your eyes widen in surprise, though you guess you shouldn’t be that surprised. You try your best to play it cool, but you're not sure you’re pulling it off well at all.

“Nice shirt,” you comment, with a smile.

“I’m Eddie,” he introduces himself. He’s so shy, not at all like how you'd expect him to be. You can’t help but find it endearing. You introduce yourself too.

“I, uh, I just wanted to tell you that I love you videos,” he compliments bashfully. “I think I’ve seen them all- I’m a big fan.”

“Thank you- um, same. I mean, I’m a big fan of yours too. Not of myself, obviously,” you ramble, “Your music! Not videos, but yes- I also love your music videos…”

“Thanks,” he replies, and you’re relieved to be cut off before you embarrass yourself further. “Listen, um, I wanted to ask- could we get a picture together?”

You straighten your posture and nod enthusiastically. “Oh, yeah- of course,” you reply. You go to smooth out your hair, and tug at the hem of your shirt.

“You look great,” he insists and you feel flush at his compliments. You feel giddy, as he casually wraps his arm around your shoulders. He holds up his phone, making sure you're both in frame. You both smile and he snaps a picture of the two of you.

“Do- do you mind sending it to me?” You ask.

“Here,” he offers his phone to you, “Do you want to just send it to yourself?” You’re stunned. He’s trusting you with his phone? You text the selfie to yourself, and hand it back.

“Thanks,” you smile.

“Are you going to the concert?” He asks, “I was going to meet Jeff and Gareth… do you want to come with me?”

“My friends are waiting for me..,” you say, and you’re a little disappointed to have to say no to him. “We’re supposed to meet up there actually.”

“Well, you can just have them meet us at the box if you want,” he shrugs nonchalantly. He hears his security sigh but he couldn’t care less.

“If that won’t be too much trouble,” you insist. He shrugs it off.

“Nah, don’t even worry about it,” he’s doing his best to be nonchalant. “What do you think?” He asks hopefully.

“Yeah! I’ll text them, they’ll freak out,” you smile. You lean over to the security guy. “In like a normal way, they are harmless. The worst thing they’ll be is maybe loud. I swear.”

The man offers a closed lip smile and nods.

***

“It was just hanging out,” Eddie argues exhausted. He slumped in his seat and crossed his arms. The band’s publicist scoffs, pushing her phone across the table.

“No, it’s not,” she chastises, “first, you wear the shirt. The pink tshirt was great- did wonderful; the public really liked it. But, then you wear this shirt again at a public event where it was confirmed this person would be in attendance. Then, you’re photographed with this girl and you didn’t think there’d be speculation? You’ve essentially confirmed a relationship.”

“Wearing a fucking tshirt and posting a selfie confirms a relationship?” He retorts.

“Not in normal circumstances, but you already know that there’s never normal circumstances.”

“We’re not together.”

“Eddie, this isn’t about lecturing you. Stop acting like a spoiled little kid. This isn’t about you- this is about everything you’ve built and accomplished; your band mates and their careers. It’s about all the people you employ. You can sit here and act like your actions don’t have consequences- and this isn’t about whether or not she’s a good person, or if you are or aren’t dating- it’s about thinking about the impact you have and why it’s so important to think about and plan these things.”

“Literally no one would have anything to worry about. Her reputation is spotless, she does charity fundraisers, she makes YouTube videos about Stardew Valley for Christsake.”

“This time? Sure, but this isn’t the first time you’ve been reckless Eddie. You can’t deny you’ve done worse- this is just the newest thing.”

“Jesus…”

“It’s better for optics when the three of you appear single.”

“What the hell? We aren’t even dating! We hung out once.”

“Eddie…”

“You’re telling me that people lose their jobs and no one buys our albums if I go out on a date?”

“It’s gradual Eddie.. have you even given any thought on how this is going to affect her? The microscope you put her under? The swarm of crazed fans, angry and jealous and spiteful that it’s not them… you’ve sent the poor girl out to slaughter.”

He recoils, shrinking further into the chair. Had it been that selfish and thoughtless? He didn’t imagine anything this upsetting could happen. He does feel like shit now- he didn’t think about how this attention would affect you. Maybe he had been blinded by his own infatuation. It’s not fair to you. He wanted to see you again, but maybe now he thinks he shouldn’t. You were so sweet, he thinks back on that day. He couldn’t imagine anyone hating you, or wanting to inflict that kind of pain his publicist is talking about.

He looks at the pictures she’s trying to show him. The both of you chatting near her table- obviously taken from a distance and zoomed in. He’s blushing looking at you- of course he was. You’re both smiling, looking at each other and not paying attention to anything else. Then, photos taken of the concert. Sitting next to each other, legs brushed up against each other as you chat- completely ignoring the show. He’s leaning in close so he can hear you speak. Then, you’re standing next to each other, cheering and clapping for the performance. Well, more so that you’re applauding the artist, and Eddie is standing next to you- looking at you like a lovesick idiot. It’s painfully obvious that he’s into you. Now, he’s more worried if you picked up on that than anything else. And if he wasn’t anymore obvious in his body language, just to really drive the point home- he was wearing the pink t-shirt on top of everything else.

“This is just the one post ET made about it,” she says, opening the comment section for him. “Look at the comments- this was posted an hour ago.”

He can do much better kind of sad actually

Mid

She is so annoying

They both make me sick

She’s not even that pretty

Who even is she gross

Why is she even there

It's obvious she’s just using him to grow her channel

Eddie blink twice if you need help

Clout chaser

Hundreds of comments like that kept pouring in. Of course, for every negative comment there were hundreds of positive- but Eddie couldn’t help but focus on the hateful things people were saying about you. He wanted to reply to every one of them and defend you. Who were these faceless, nameless assholes with nothing better to do?

***

You had posted a vlog about your experience at the convention- completely leaving Eddie or anything Corroded Coffin out. You shared videos of you meeting subscribers, and you meeting your favorite creators. You shared fun videos of your friends and you trying the convention center food. However, as you should’ve expected, all of the comments were about Eddie. On your little corner of the internet, your following was overwhelmingly positive and supportive. Occasionally, you saw a comment that was obviously left by someone who sought out your channel after the pictures were posted- but otherwise, you were fine.

You figured you’d be better off not to go looking for the negativity because you knew for sure you’d find it. Blocking and deleting is very easy to do, you decided a long time ago when you started your channel. You’re used to the occasional hate comment, and you haven’t checked your social media notifications on other platforms in so long. You were impressing yourself with how you’d handled the situation honestly. You figured you’d just stay offline for a few days and everything would mellow and go back to normal. You grossly underestimated the persistent attention that would soon hit you.

When you tried to live stream for your most recent let’s play, you ended up deciding to end the stream way earlier than you usually would. You anticipated people joining to ask about Eddie or ask about the photos, but you underestimated the influx of viewers you’d receive. Your moderators weren’t able to keep up and the stream was completely overrun with spam comments and hate. You usually stream for a few hours but this happened about a half an hour into your live, and you decided to shut it down. You needed to regroup. You were startled- it was unexpected to say the least. You weren’t sure where to go from here. Almost immediately after you ended the live stream, you got a text.

You okay?

Eddie had been watching?

Yeah, I’m okay. That was just a lot. I didn’t know what to do.

I’m sorry. It’s my fault.

Nothing is your fault. You don’t need to apologize. I appreciate you checking in.

Of course sweetheart

Sweetheart? You could squeal- just collapse on your bed and kick your feet. You wanted to just scream into your pillow. It was like that one text canceled out all the bullshit you just had to deal with. Thousands of people can comment that they hate you all day long, but you are the one he’s texting. You're the one he just called sweetheart.

While you’re trying to decide how to respond, your phone begins to vibrate. He’s calling you. Your heart leaps and your stomach excitedly ties itself in knots. You hadn’t spoken to him since a couple of weeks ago at the convention. You gathered the courage to answer right before the call would get sent to voicemail.

“Hey,” you answer, trying to sound casual.

“Hey,” he replies.

Eddie’s on the tour bus- he’s in another time zone that’s a few hours ahead of yours. He can hear Jeff snoring in the bunk under his and he’s sure Gareth must also be asleep. He pulled the draw curtain to muffle his talking, but he still wants to keep his voice down.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” He asked. “How are you holding up?” He winces. He hates that this is a thing. He resents that something like this would happen to you and he feels incredibly guilty. He did this to you, and you never asked for it.

“I’m good- really,” you insist. “I’m just logging off. I think I just want to deal with it all tomorrow.”

“I wanted to call you way sooner than this,” he admits, scratching the back of his neck nervously before he starts to lay down. “I’m sorry I didn’t- I really wanted to, but I don’t know- I sort of convinced myself you’d want nothing to do with me after all of this press and attention.”

“I do feel like I’m under a microscope a little bit,” you giggle, “But that has nothing to do with you. I was hoping you’d call. I’m glad you did.”

“Our publicist isn’t too happy with me,” he explains. “Nothing to do with you-” he quickly makes sure to explain, “She just likes to plan out everything and she gets mad when I go rogue.”

“So it was a publicity stunt?” You gasp, faking shock. “I’m kidding,” you reassure him and you smile when you hear him laugh.

“Trust me, it was the complete opposite,” he reiterates. “Listen,” he takes a deep breath, “I really want to see you again.”

“I’d really like that.”

“Good,” he replies, and he punches the air victoriously for no one but himself. “What are you doing next weekend?”

“I’m not doing anything,” you say teasingly, “but aren’t you playing like back to back shows in Indianapolis?”

“Fly out and meet me,” he proposes, “Come to a show and we can hang out after. We’re playing Thursday, Friday, Saturday- come to the Saturday show. Bring your friends if you want- there’s probably going to be an afterparty of some sort. Be my date. If you still can tolerate me after that, we can hang out on Sunday and do the whole like real date thing- I know this great breakfast place…”

You bite your lip, of course you want to say yes. What girl wouldn’t? The guy whose poster is literally on your wall is calling you and wanting to whisk you away for a weekend.

“Are you okay being seen with me?” you ask hesitantly, “Are we adding fuel to the fire, if we do this?”

“I guess so,” Eddie sighs, “but to be entirely honest- I don’t give a shit at all what people are going to say. I just care about you- I want to get to know you and see where this goes. That’s all that matters.”

“I’ve liked you for a really long time,” he goes on to confess, “Listen, I’ve had like a really stupidly big embarrassing crush on you since like the first time I saw one of your videos. I don’t need any convincing- I know I want this. But like weird parasocial, celebrity crush feelings aside, I started to like you even more after I met you. To me, seeing if this goes anywhere is worth it. I don’t mind putting up with the attention if I get to spend more time with you.”

“But,” he continues, “I know it’s asking a lot of you- and I know this isn’t easy. And you have to deal with so much added pressure. I fully signed up for the paparazzi and the crazy fans, it comes with doing what I love. I signed on that dotted line a while ago. I gave up my privacy and my anonymity, you know? You don’t have to be a part of that- it’s too much of me to ask of anyone.”

“Can I think about it?” You ask and you bite your lip.

“Of course, sweetheart,” he reassures you, and you're so happy to hear he doesn’t sound upset or disappointed. You can tell he’s being genuine at putting your comfort first. “Here’s what I’m gonna do, text me your email if you’re okay with that- I’ll send you the plane tickets.”

“I can-”

“Nope. It’s my insane idea for a first date- I’m asking you out, so I pay,” he insists. “Look, if you decide not to use them, I’ll make sure it’s taken care of. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of everything. Please don’t feel like you have to use them, I know this is a big ask. It’s ridiculous. But I think you’re worth it.”

“I will think about it,” you say sincerely, “I don’t want to rush into anything. I just need a bit of time.”

“You can have all the time you need, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere until you say the word.”

***

Eddie has resolved that you aren’t coming to the show tonight. He hasn’t heard from you since that phone call, and he’s realized he probably scared you away. He knows he can be dramatic, and he falls into things too quickly, and he’s convinced he’s ruined his chances with you. He’s heartbroken.

But the show must go on.

Despite feeling completely devastated, he still gives the show his all. No one would tell he was going through something to look at him. He was giving all his energy, giving the crowd back exactly what they were giving him. He could do it.

You kept telling yourself over and over again to just play it cool. You tried not to lose it in the back of the Uber in bumper to bumper traffic. You watched the numbers crawl by minute by minute on your phone, knowing which song in the setlist you were missing next. You worried when the venue security questioned the legitimacy of your passes, questioning you until you felt dizzy. You finally made it as the band was finishing up one of your favorites. So relieved you made it before the end, you couldn’t find it in you to care that you missed it. You hung back, and followed the instructions of the tech crew carefully so you wouldn’t be in the way. You let yourself take a deep breath. You made it.

“Miss, do you mind waiting in the dressing room after this song?” Someone asked you, “The show’s finale has some flames and other large visual effects. It’s a liability to have you back here.”

Understanding, you nod and you promise to make your way there. As the song finished up, another crew member found you and brought you to a security guard, who then escorted you to a room with “TALENT” marked in bold on the door- a piece of plain paper with CORRODED COFFIN taped underneath. He held the door open for you and you thanked him, walking inside.

You felt very out of place, amongst Eddie, Gareth and Jeff’s things without them there. You were apprehensive and took a few minutes to find a space where you felt comfortable. Obviously, they weren’t expecting anyone. Clothes were strewn about haphazardly, stage makeup still left open and messy on the rooms vanity, their duffel bags thrown messily on the floor. It felt like a piece of their world you weren’t supposed to see. A TV mounted to the wall was playing the show, so you took a seat on the uncomfortable couch and watched the rest of the concert.

You tried to practice how you’d be sitting when Eddie walked in. You didn’t want to be slouched but you also didn’t want to look too forced. You opted to just sit with your legs crossed- casual but not too casual that you felt frumpy.

For their final exit, the band was lowered under the stage. Crawling out from underneath the mechanics, Eddie hoped maybe he’d see you there waiting for him. His face fell after the high of being on stage when he realized he got his hopes up again. Jeff patted him on the back, not needing to even ask to know why Eddie was clearly upset.

“Come on,” Gareth said encouragingly, passing him a bottle of water. Eddie nods his head as a thank you, and the three of them begin to make their way back to the dressing room, thanking staff for helping as they see them.

When Jeff is the first one in the door, he offers you a wide, knowing smile. You move to stand up and say hello when Eddie sees you.

“You’re here,” he marvels.

“I’m sorry I was late,” you apologize, “I was stuck in the traffic outside forever and then when I got here they asked me to wait here-”

Eddie strides over and envelops you into a crushing hug. You were tense but your body immediately relaxed. You hug him back, not caring about how sweaty he is from just being on stage.

“I’m happy you’re here,” he mumbles into your hair before pulling away.

“Me too,” you agree.

“I wasn’t sure if you were coming,” he whispers, afraid the guys would hear and make fun of him for sounding so desperate.

“Me either,” you giggle. It makes him smile again. His grin expands from ear to ear and all of a sudden, every little sadness he felt all night just evaporated.

“We’re going to the wrap party,” Jeff interjects, pushing Gareth out the door with him. “We’ll see you guys over there.”

“Wrap party?” You ask, intrigued.

“Yeah, like the crew and everyone at this like after party thing,” he explains. “Should be kinda cool if you want to check it out.”

“I’d like that.”

***

The music is blaring; the bass pulsing throughout your entire body and it makes your ears feel like they’d pop. Hundreds of people were crammed up against one another, and the smoke from a variety of substances wafted throughout the bar. Eddie held your hand, helping guide you through the hoards of people. He offered a head nod to people as you both passed- no one would hear him talk anyways.

You travel up a few mezzanine levels until you’re both further away from the chaos. You can look down and see the crowded dance floor, but you are much more content with this calmer atmosphere. Leather couches and coffee tables adorn this floor of the club. Another bar is situated in the corner, with a line much, much shorter than the ones downstairs. You start to realize this is some sort of private area or VIP lounge of some kind. You see security positioned in all corners as the guard which led you and Eddie here takes his new position against the wall near the bar.

“This is pretty much all crew, producers, management people, friends,” Eddie explains, “Just people who are close to us, you know?”

You spot Jeff and Gareth on one of the couches, in the midst of a heated discussion with another person you don’t recognize. Gareth almost spills his drink as he’s frantically using his hands to make a point, while Jeff is sitting with his back to him- talking to a girl who is seated on the arm of the couch.

“MUNSON!” A voice booms over the chatter. Eddie looks to the direction of the voice. You watch his eyes light up, unapologetically happy. He drops your hand and you see him bolt to the person.

“Harrington, you motherfucker!” Eddie exclaims, pulling the other guy into a big hug. “Shit,” he pulls away quickly, and returns back to you. With his hand on your back, he gently guides you over to the spot of the reunion. “Steve Harrington,” he introduces. Steve shakes your hand as you introduce yourself, and he smirks as he glances between you and Eddie.

Eventually, Eddie introduces you to all of his hometown friends. They all attended the show- drove up from Eddie’s hometown to surprise him. Despite catching up with old friends, Eddie was so attentive to make sure you still felt included. He went out of his way to make sure you were introduced to everyone, and he bragged on your behalf about the success of your channel to everyone. He also made sure to fill you in if you got lost in the conversations. He’d explain the context of the inside jokes, tell you the bigger story that an anecdote was from… everything to pull you into his world, his real world.

“We should get out of here and go to The Hideout,” Gareth said, “For old times sake.”

“I’m not abandoning top shelf shit for the skunky beer at The Hideout,” Steve scrunched his nose in disgust.

“What’s The Hideout?” you ask Eddie as the group debates the next move.

“A really, really, really shitty bar back home,” he whispers close to your ear. “It was where we used to play when we were just starting. It was actually awful,” he chuckles, reminiscing. “We’d play to practically no one on Tuesday nights at like 11pm.”

“You had the time of your life didn’t you?” you smile, knowingly. He nodded.

“Yeah, it was pretty fucking awesome,” he admits.

“Fine, not tonight,” Gareth concedes finally, “but we gotta get back there at some point.”

“So,” Nancy says, changing the subject and turning to you. “Eddie didn’t tell us he had a girlfriend. We all had to find out on TMZ like the rest of the world. When did you guys meet?”

“Oh, um,” you begin, but Eddie places his arm around your shoulders.

“This is our first date, actually,” he interjects, confidently. “So none of you assholes can say anything to make me look bad. I’m trying to impress her.”

You bite your lip to hold back a smile.

“So the whole t-shirt thing?” Nancy asks, directing her question to Eddie.

“My way of just trying to get her attention I guess,” he admits with a shrug, “Not that first picture though- I looked terrible. The second time though? Yeah, that was totally on purpose.”

Your face felt like it was on fire- you were overwhelmed with the way Eddie was so nonchalant. He was so honest, unabashedly so, with the way he spoke about his interest in you. You’d never experienced that type of attention, you didn’t know how to handle it. You don’t know how to play this game when he’s just put all his cards out on the table. There’s no guessing, no implications, no mind games- he just likes you. For the first time, in the craziest of circumstances, something you always found complicated is finally simple.

He liked you. He pursued you. He got you.

The drinks and the conversation continue to flow with ease. Eddie enjoyed sitting back and watching you fit in with his life. He loves the way it’s all just making sense. It’s like you’ve known his friends for years. You fit perfectly amongst them, and he just can’t help himself as he just admires you. He’s finding it so hard to play it cool, but he just wants to skip ahead to where this is routine. He wants you here, learning this side of him- engrossing yourself into his world. It just clicks and to him, it just all makes sense.

When Jeff Gareth and him are inevitably pulled away to greet and talk with other people, he can’t help but keep checking back on you. He didn’t want to abandon you. He didn’t want to engage with anyone else here outside of the little circle he reluctantly had to leave. He should be paying attention to the names of these suits he’s meeting, but his mind is too preoccupied. He wants to just rush back to you, and intercept any embarrassing things he knows his friends are telling you.

“I think you and Eddie seem really great together,” Steve discloses to you when the rest of the group is caught up in their own conversations. “He wears his heart on his sleeve,” Steve explains, “He’s not like how the tabloids and the news make him out to be. He’s always been misunderstood. I just uh- wanted to let you know that. He doesn’t do this, ever.”

Steve goes on to explain, “He’ll kill me for telling you this. But I haven’t heard Eddie talk about a girl since the whole band thing took off. You’d think he’d be like running wild and like getting all these girls- hell, that would be me. He’s very selective on who he invites in; he wouldn’t be doing all of this if he didn’t want this to go somewhere like for you two.”

“I can tell he really likes you,” Steve continues, “I just wanted to make sure you know how good of a guy he is. In case you know, like, you had any doubts or anything. He’s not like that kind of guy. He’s probably the most sincere, loyal person ever- I just, you know, wanted to hype him up to you a little bit and vouch for him. And also just to ask you, to please not break his heart- don’t make him have false hope if you aren’t serious.”

You nod, understanding where Steve is coming from.

“Back,” Eddie announces, jumping over the back of the couch to settle himself between you and Steve. “That was so fucking boring,” he jokes, wrapping his arm around you comfortably. “Best thing at this party is right here,” he gestures around the circle of his friends with the stem of his beer bottle, starting with Steve and working the neck around to you. He offers an incredibly cheesy grin and you laugh at his antics. You rest your head on his shoulder as he settles back into the group conversation, and you both miss how Steve smiles watching the two of you.

***

The ride back to the hotel is quiet, Jeff and Gareth sit quietly on their phones in the middle row of the large car while you're cuddled into Eddie’s side in the far back row. Eddie doesn’t dare move, too terrified that he’ll wake you up. Your head rests on his shoulder and your body is flush to his. He silently curses every pot hole and sharp turn begging that you stay like this for as long as possible.

Thankfully, there doesn’t seem to be anyone waiting outside for them. The driver pulls around to the back door- the plan is to sneak you all in through the kitchen. The band’s body guard opens the car door. Gareth and Jeff climb out and scurry into the building quickly. Eddie softly nudges you awake.

“Keep your hood up, sweetheart,” Eddie instructs as you pull your jacket tighter around you. You put your hood on your head and pull it down to cover your face- just in case. Eddie helps you out of the car- also with his hood on. “Head down, okay?” he whispers, and he guides you as you walk with your head down.

You scurry through the kitchen and you use the elevator towards the back of the building to travel to the higher floors.

Eddie arranged for one of the assistants to bring your bags here while you were out. He set you up in the room across the hall from him. He wanted to make sure you had your own space. When you get to the rooms, Gareth and Jeff disappear to their own rooms, offering very tired “goodnights.” Eddie walks you to your door.

“I had so much fun tonight,” you sleepily admit. “Thank you… thank you for trusting me.”

His eyes soften. He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Get some sleep,” he smiles, affectionately grazing your jaw with his thumb. You lean up and his heart skips when he watches your eyes linger- looking between his eyes and his lips. You press your lips to his and this delicate kiss feels like enough to make his entire body melt.

It’s soft and perfect. A first kiss that you only see in the movies. Kissing you made Eddie feel like he’d never kissed anyone before. Nothing that came before amounted nearly as much as this. He feels like he’s in high school again all of a sudden. This, he decides, should have been his first kiss. Because none of them ever felt as good as this. He makes up his mind then and there, that you’re the only person he wants to kiss for the rest of his life. It’s a thought he won’t share until much further down the road.

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vladdyissues · 1 month ago

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Watched an old movie (no idea of the name - it was one of many we watched) this Christmas where a bunch of fresh faced WWII soldier boys put up pinups in their bunks, but they couldn't put ACTUAL pinups of sexy ladies in this old ass movie, so it was like, half Uncle Sam propaganda and half middle aged "leaders of industry" men on the posters.

And now I can't get out of my head the idea of Danny as a young soldier, putting up pinups of Vlad - both sexy poses AND "Make Vlad Masters proud of you, Soldier" type propaganda.

Get this man on the nosecone of a B-17 now

#asks #my first art of 2025 #vlad masters #with his vliddies out and heels on #what a way to start the year lol #pinup art #pompous pep #hjbenderart #now i can’t stop thinking about danny enlisting and lying about his age #and becoming a top secret experimental aircraft pilot #and falling in love with his hot but deranged aircraft engineer and flight instructor #🥴

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munsonkitten · 2 years ago

Text

They say it’s for his own good. Because he’s dangerous. But Steve doesn’t feel any more dangerous than he did before this whole mess. Like, seriously, he could kill literal monsters with nothing more than a bat covered in rusty nails. He doesn’t feel any more dangerous now than he did when he hit Billy Hargrove with a fucking car or when he held back in all the fights he’s ever lost. Because he could kill fucking monsters. He wasn’t gonna find out if he was capable of killing teenage boys too.

He sees Eddie sometimes.

Eddie looks dangerous, but then he always has. Even if he never was. He always had that look to him, with his leather and chains and heavy boots. Dangerous in a good way.

Now he looks bloodthirsty.

Well, ha, Steve thinks. That’s because he is.

Steve is too, but he doesn’t think that’s grounds for imprisonment. He doesn’t think that’s grounds for being held hostage in the newly reopened and renovated Hawkins Lab.

They say it’s because he’s dangerous, but if that’s the case then they should’ve locked him up years ago. They should’ve seen what was wrong with him back when he was that asshole popular kid at Hawkins High.

Every time he sees Eddie these days it’s when they’re being shoved down hallways. They have Eddie in a mask to prevent biting. Some clear plastic thing that shows his snarling face as he’s pushed. His teeth are sharp and pointed, and he has this wild look in his eyes. There’s blood inside the mask more often than not. Whether it’s someone else’s every time, or if it’s Eddie’s, Steve never really knows. A mix of both, most likely.

They make eye contact and Steve tries to tell him they’ll get out of this mess, and Eddie looks back at him like he wants to believe him, but just can’t.

Steve doesn’t blame him. He’s lost track of how long they’ve been here. He stopped counting after six months, after the lines he carved into his wall with a sharp fingernail — talon, really — became too numerous to hide behind the one pin-up girl poster they gave him for good behavior after the second week.

Weird reward, if you ask Steve. The orderly that put it up for him smirked, said something about tissues in the cabinet in the corner of his room, and then left without another word.

Really fucking weird.

The head scientist comes into Steve’s room. Steve can’t remember his name. Matthews or Mathson or… Something. Doesn’t matter. Not like Steve really needs to know. He’s just called The Doctor and that’s that.

“According to our records, today’s a very special day, indeed. Happy birthday, Steven,” he says, looking down at Steve’s chart.

So it’s February fourteenth… But —

“How old am I?” Steve asks.

“Twenty-two,” the doctor answers.

Twenty two… Which means it’s 1988. Steve’s been here over a year and a half, since June ‘86 when they took him in the dead of night. Things had been weird before that. He’d been having cravings, and Eddie came back from the dead, clawed his way out of the Upside Down all by himself. He came back different, but still the same Eddie that Steve had mourned.

Twenty two years old and he doesn’t even remember turning twenty one.

“Since it’s your birthday,” the doctor continues. “We decided you deserve a reward for being so cooperative during your stay. Something you choose yourself, anything you want — within reason, mind you. Don’t ask to get out of here because that won't be happening. But if we can get it for you, it’s yours to keep.”

“Eddie,” Steve blurts out. “I want Eddie. I want him moved into my cell permanently. Get us bunk beds or some shit.”

“Ah, yes, well,” the doctor sighs. “Mr Munson is quite….”

“Dangerous? Insane? I can keep him in check,” Steve says quickly. “Look, we were friends before all of this and now we’re in the same boat. I understand him. If you want to get through to him, do this for me and I can help.”

None of that is true, of course. He’s not gonna make Eddie do shit, and he really doesn’t think he could if he wanted to. He’s wild, a little more monster than Steve is. It probably has something to do with being stuck in the Upside Down after he died. Different, but still Eddie.

Steve doesn’t blame him for the trouble he’s been causing. He’s seen it firsthand only a couple of times, but sometimes his doctors go missing and never come back. Sometimes they’re covered in blood when they come to see him after being with Eddie.

It’s not hard to guess what happens there.

“We’ll try it,” the doctor says. “But I can’t imagine why that’s what you want.”

He writes something down on his clipboard, clicks his pen with a sigh, and stands.

“I will see what we can do.”

And then he‘s gone.

Steve waits two days. Two days where no one comes to see him, to poke him with needles or flash lights in his eyes. He’s delivered his meals through the slot in his door, but that’s all that happens. He drinks the blood they give him. Animal today, he knows. They switch it up on him, and he’s found he can tell the difference easily now. It’s not the same as human, but it does the job.

It keeps him alive. It keeps him from wanting to tear himself limb from limb because of hunger and thirst. There’s still an itch in his throat and a nagging in the back of his mind saying he’s not satisfied, but it’s better than nothing.

On the second day, he’s told to stand against the back wall, and he complies easily. Complying means rewards — it means he doesn’t get hurt. The first few days he was here he was uncooperative and they beat him. It was too much like being in the Russian bunker beneath Starcourt again.

So he stopped fighting back. He stopped spitting and hissing, he stopped trying to sink his teeth into anything he could reach. And in turn he got rewards. He’s given more time outside his room, more time to sit in a room with a rainbow around the walls and a bunch of old children’s toys.

He knows he’s at Hawkins Lab. He can feel it, can feel something in the back of his head that tells him his family is close. His real family — Robin and Nancy and Dustin and everyone else. He knows he’s in Hawkins Lab and he can’t help but wonder if El lived in the same room as him, if she pushed around the same Hot Wheels car he does when he’s bored.

He stands in his room now, and it’s really a cell, but he doesn’t like to call it that, and he watches as two men carry his bed out. Two more come in with bunk beds that look like two of the regular beds welded together — thin metal frames with thin mattresses. Straight out of a prison.

The doctor comes into the room and he’s carrying a box in his arms. Steve can’t see what’s inside it, but he thinks they might be the few personal belongings Eddie has. The box gets set on the bottom bunk. An orderly comes in with a pile of extra blankets and two pillows. Those get set on the beds, too.

They all leave without a word, but Steve knows he won’t be alone for much longer. He knows that they’re going to get Eddie to him, and soon enough, they’re both going to be able to escape. Together.

Steve doesn’t know how long he sits there on the bottom bunk, but it’s a while. He only spares a single glance into the box, and he sees a spare hospital gown, and some clean underwear inside it. There’s a book sitting on top, tattered and splattered with blood. At least Eddie has that, Steve supposes.

The heavy metal door to Steve’s room opens and Eddie is shoved in, snarling and snapping at the guard behind him, holding his hands in shackles behind his back. They have heavy wool mittens on him, his plastic mask covering the bottom half of his face. Steve’s surprised they don’t just put him in a straitjacket and throw him into a padded room.

They make eye contact, Eddie’s formerly chocolate brown eyes now deep red. His hair is pulled back into a ponytail and shows his slightly pointed ears. Steve’s look the same, and his eyes are still mostly brown, but he can see the red swirling around inside them during the few occasions he can look in the mirror.

Eddie sniffs the air through his mask, bares his teeth. Steve can see the blood in his mouth through the clear plastic.

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. What if Eddie hurts him too? What if he’s… What if he’s not Eddie anymore? If the last bits of his humanity have drained out of him, if he’s been forced to let the monster inside take full control… Steve doesn’t know what he’ll do.

I’d let the monster take me, too, he thinks, and then immediately regrets it. He doesn’t want to be that, and in his head he’s holding a snarling beast back with wrought iron bars, in a cell not too different from the one his physical body stands in. He’s gotten this far. It would be a waste to not even try.

The guard leaves Eddie where he stands, still cuffed, and backs away to the door. He slams it shut and locks it, then slides open the food slot. Eddie growls, jerks at his cuffs, trying to get free.

“Munson!” the guard barks. “Back up against the door.”

Eddie backs up until he’s against the door and Steve hears the key unlocking the cuffs around Eddie’s wrists.

The mittens come off next, and both things get pulled through the slot. The guard quickly slides it shut. Eddie is free from his restraints, and now he and Steve are alone.

Read more on AO3

#this is the first chapter so go on to chapter 2 #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #vampire steddie #vampires #my fics #eddie munson #vampire eddie munson #vampire steve harrington

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 13 days ago

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As a proud Dane, my mom used to sing “solen er så rød mor” for me when I was younger, and I would love if you could write one where Bayverse Mikey, where one of the kids(you can choose which one fits :D) and wakes up reader, cause there were monsters under the bed. Reader follow said kid back into their room and sings the lullaby for them, and when reader turns around cause said kid is asleep, Mikey is in the door??

The Sun Is So Red, Mom, And The Monsters Have Gone To Sleep (Fluff)

Children Series

Bayverse!Michelangelo x reader

A/N: Fuck yeah! I love it. It’s cute. So of course I made it. I decided to go with “Solen Er Så Rød, Mor”, as that’s the same lullaby my mom used to sing for me as a kid. And for all of you that do not speak Danish, I’ve added an English translation. Hope you’ll enjoy🧡

Warnings: None🧡

Luis was normally not the kind of kid to wake up in the middle of the night. He was usually a deep sleeper, just like his father, having started to snore just like him. But tonight, something had woken your little angel up, causing him to lay wide awake in the top bunk of his bed. It was probably a nightmare or something like it. But whatever had woken Luis up, was now keeping him awake. And as he laid there in his dark room, he believed that he started to hear noises coming from under his bed. Low growls, like an animal on the hunt. It was probably not much more than Luis’ own imagination, but that didn’t matter much to a kid the same age as Luis. He was scared and unable to sleep. And so little Luis quickly made his way out of his dark room, heading down the dark hallway, until he came to you and Mikey’s bedroom.

Opening the door, Luis was met with the sight of you and Mikey sleeping soundly in your bed, with Mikey snoring as loudly as he usually did. Luis quickly made his way to your side of the bed, where he shook your arm with his little hand, hoping to wake you up.

“Mommy”, he whispered in the dark, trying not to wake up his sleeping father on the side of the bed. “Mommy, wake up”.

You let out a hum, opening your eyes to find your youngest child standing by your side of your bed.

“What’s happening, sweetheart?”, you asked in your sleepy voice, holding onto his hand with yours, smoothing your thumb over his knuckles in a soothing manner.

“I think there’s a monster under my bed”, Luis whispered. “It growls and I’m scared”.

“A monster?” you asked, slowly putting two and two together as you calmly got up from the bed. “Come, mommy will check for monsters under your bed”.

You followed Luis back to his room, where he took a seat on his top bunk, watching as you got down on all four, checking under his bottom bunk that had been turned into a pillow nock, along with posters and fairy lights.

“If there were any monsters, there’s not any down here anymore”, you said, getting back up on your knees, looking up at Luis.

“But what if it comes back?”, Luis asked, getting under the covers as you stood up from your position.

“I highly doubt that”, you said with a soft smile, coming to stand by the ladder of his bunk bed, reaching for your son’s head, so that you could smooth your hand over it in a soothing motion. “Especially after it learned that you have mommy and daddy so close by”.

Luis gave you a small smile, leaning into the hand on his head. However his smile flattered for a moment, biting his lip in concern. “Can you stay in here with me for a moment, so I’m sure the monster won’t come back?”

You chuckled lightly at your son’s suggestion, before climbing up the ladder, so that you could lay yourself down next to him. Luis was quick to cuddle up to your side, resting his head against your chest, relaxing against your as your hand came to rest on his head once more, while you took his hand in your with the other.

“Can you sing to me, mommy?”, Luis asked, letting his small fingers play with your hand.

“Of course I can, sweetheart”, you said, pressing a kiss to his forehead, letting him continue to play with your fingers. “Solen er så rød, mor / og skoven bli’r så sort / Nu er solen død, mor / og dagen gået bort / Ræven går derude, mor / Vi låser vores gang / Kom, sæt dig ved min pude, mor / og syng en lille sang (The sun is so red, mom / and the forest is getting so black / Now the sun is dead, mom / and the day has passed away / The fox goes out there, mom / We are locking our hall / Come, sit by my pillow, mom / and sing a small song)”.

Luis smiled up at you, before nuzzling his face closer against you, his hand now holding onto two of your fingers in a firm grip as he continued to sing. “Himlen er så stor, mor / med klare stjerner på / Hvem monstro der bor, mor / på stjernen i det blå? / Tror du, der er drenge, mor / der kigger ned til mig? / Og tror du, de har senge, mor / og sover li’som jeg? (The sky is so big, mom / with clear stars on / Who might live there, mom / on the star in the blue? / Do you think there are boys, mom / there are looking down at me? / And do you think they have bed, mom / and sleep just like me?)”

Luis grip on your fingers loosened, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he would be asleep. “Hvorfor bli'r det nat, mor / og kold og bitter vind? / Hør den lille kat, mor / den mjaver og vil ind / Mågerne og ternerne / har ingen sted at bo / Å hør, nu synger stjernerne / De synger mig til ro (Why does it become night, mom / and cold and bitter wind? / Hear the small cat, mom / it meows and will in / The seagulls and the terns / have no place to live / Oh hear, now the star sings / They sing me to sleep)”.

As soon as you finished singing, you heard the unmistakable sound of your son snoring next to you. You looked down to find your youngest child sleeping soundly in your arms.

You sat there for a moment, looking down at your little angel in your arms, when the familiar footsteps of your husband sounded in the hallway, followed by Mikey standing in the doorway to Luis’ bedroom.

“There you are. You got me worried for a moment”, Mikey said, smiling at the sight in front of him. “Did he wake up?”

“He did”, you said, lightly stroking his soft cheek with the back of your fingers. “He said he heard a monster growling underneath his bed”.

“Oh? Did you find any monsters then?”, Mikey asked, walking to the bunk bed to get a better look at you and your son.

“Well, I didn’t find a monster, but I did find something else”, you said, trying to hide a smile.

“What?”, Mikey asked.

“I found out that it’s possible to hear your snoring all the way in here”, you answered, finally letting someone know that you had solved the mystery of Luis’ growling monster.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt x reader #tmnt bayverse x reader #tmnt bayverse mikey x reader #tmnt bayverse michelangelo x reader #tmnt mikey x reader #tmnt michelangelo x reader #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt mikey #tmnt bayverse #tmnt bayverse mikey #tmnt bayverse michelangelo

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allyheart707 · 5 months ago

Text

1 Year Comic Collab - PART 2

<- Part One

THANK YOU to everyone who has joined this collab and everyone else who has stuck with me through this year of my comic! I am so so so thankful for all of you guys! This comic has gotten me out of my comfort zone, helped me find friends, and taught me SO much about art and animation. I would NOT have stuck with it so long if it wasn't for all of your support. <3 <3 <3

A special thank you to @bambiraptorx who helped A TON in setting up the ID's for this comic, @kitmay05 who helped with advice and writing the extra IDs that were left unfinished, @cupkatwarrior9 who also helped a ton with advice and IDs, and @nootdhoodle who created and modded my discord server for me!!

Credits in order top to bottom: @kitmay05. @rainyraisin, @averagetmntfan (line art) & @cosmocafe (color), @flour-consumer, @dianagj-art , @3mutantsinatrenchcoat , @chaos-potat , @irequirealobotomy , @koolaidashley , @risebabyx2 , @clown-froggi , @riseleon , @beetleviolet , @karonkar , @brightonstudios , @cupkatwarrior9 , @bambiraptorx , @fxliciq-a , @truths33k3r4 , and last but not least, @nootdhoodle

[ID: Panel 21- Carol sitting in the middle of a bunk bed, Mikey cuddled up close arms and legs wrapped around Carol. Donnie sitting to the side getting head pats from Carol. She is saying, "once upon a time...". Both boys' tails are wagging.

Panel 22- Huginn hovering in the air saying, "there was a great warrior." Leo tucked in looking so excited he's sparkling. Muninn floats nearby also looking exited.

Panel 23- Heishi lying in his bed. He is so excited that his eyes are shining stars and his mouth is agape. Hugin off screen says "He could beat anyone or anything with just his hands!!"

Panel 24- A digital drawing of Huginn with his arms and wings spread, though part of his body isn't in the frame. He has a happy expression on his face and his mouth is widely opened. His text bubble says "And every time he won, he would give the crowd a big smile and shout-". The drawing is watermarked by flour-consumer.

Panel 25- Hugin and Munin fly behind Heishi, the three are throwing their fists to the air cheering "Hot Soup!" image watermarked by dianagj-art.

Panel 26- Transitions to Raph bedroom which is decorated with glow in the dark stars and movie posters. On a red bed sits Raph who is excitedly listening to his father tell him the story off screen "But more importantly, he was very good looking."

Panel 27- Raph, sitting on his bed, looks disappointed. Splinter is off screen but a speach bubble with his face in it shows that he is laughing at his sons reaction.

Panel 28- Splinter’s ears drop and his face falls into a frown, sitting on the rug beside Raphael’s bed. Raphael, laying on the bed, looks confused and concerned. The room is colorful, with childish toys and posters, and the blanket and rug are red, his color. It is watermarked with “irequirealobotomy” in purple text.

Panel 29- Splinter looking away with a sad expression saying "Then one day... they dissapearred without a trace". The background is a gradient from orange to purple.

Panel 30- Mikey, Carol and Donnie sit on Donnie’s bed. Mikey holds his stuffed bunny George and Carol’s arm as his tail wags. Donnie throws his arms in the air. “What? But… where did he go?! You can’t just disappear…” He squints in deep thought his hand now at his face. “Can you? Maybe…” He points his finger as his eyes light up with ideas. “Maybe he is being hidden, like us! Or-” Watermarked risebabyx2 in the bottom corner.

Panel 31- Mikey and Donnie, sitting on Donnie’s bed. Donnie with a worried expression, mumbling until interrupted by Mikey who excitedly asks; “Do you think we will ever meet him!?” The image is watermarked by clown-froggi.

Panel 32- Carol looking away from Mikey and Donnie somberly, fiddling with her hands. Image is marked on the top left with RiseLeon.

Panel 33- Mikey sitting hugging his legs on the bed. His pink rabbit, George, hugged close. Carol sitting next to him, putting his head, saying "one day, I hope you can do anything you put your mind to." Donnie sitting on her other side looking slightly sullen. Water marked with purpleviolet at the top middle.

Panel 34- Carol tucking in Donnie while Mikey sits beside her. All are smiling. Image is watermarked by Karonkar.

Panel 35- Carol tucking in Mikey on the top bunk bed. Mikey is smiling as he snuggles his stuffed bunny. Carol smiles and pulls the cover over him. Image is watermarked by brightonstudios.

Panel 36- Carol stands in the doorway, facing the dark hall outside. Her hand rests against the edge of the frame. She is looking back over her shoulder, smiling fondly. She is saying "Goodnight, boys." Image is marked at the bottom right by CupKatWarrior9

Panel 37- Mikey sleeps on his stomach, George next to his hand. His blanket mostly covers his legs and the bottom of his shell, with one foot sticking out. Watermarked Bambiraptorx.

Panel 38- Donnie sleeping peacefully in his bed, mouth slightly open.

Panel 39- Heishi asleep in his bed, blankets tightly wrapped around him with a smile on his face. Signed MD in the bottom right.

Panel 40- Raph is asleep in his bed with an arm above his head. Light from the open door illuminates a portion of the room while the rest of it is shadowed. End ID.]

#little subjects au #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #moots!#moot art #LS #little subjects 1 year anniversary #LS anniversary #comic collab #collab #EEE THIS CAME OUT SO FREAKING AMAZING #THANK YOU EVERYONE

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fuctacles · 2 years ago

Text

Henderson's older brother is kinda fine :/ [Part II]

me: I'll write a blurb and nothing else popular demand: *slides into my DMs* [Part I] [Part III]

They finished Eddie's assignment that first day but Dustin invited him over again the next week. He told him to bring whatever homework he has, and they can brainstorm it together.

This time Eddie braced himself as he approached the door, expecting to run into the older brother again. But to his surprise, Dustin was the one to open the door.

"They left you unsupervised?" He raised his eyebrows as he stepped past his friend.

Dustin rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful.

"Very funny. Steve had the morning shift today, but he should be back for dinner."

"Ah, the things we could get up to until then," Eddie's eyes sparkled with mischief but Dustin slapped him in the stomach with the strength of a dwarf.

"Yeah, like helping you graduate."

"Oof," Eddie winced, twisting away from his deceitfully powerful hands. "You're no fun, Henderson. Where is your adventurous spirit?"

"At the DnD table, duh."

"Touché."

So Eddie put on his mom-charming pants (they worked the best when no actual moms were involved, just like all his other pants) and did not go looting around his friend's house. Instead, he spread his latest assignments on Dustin's bed, claiming it as his territory for the time being. Dustin worked on his own stuff at his desk, like a civilized human being. Barf.

An hour of relative silence had passed before Dustin set down whatever he was doing and turned in his chair.

"I think you're like Lucas."

It took Eddie a moment to even process the words. He looked up to find his younger friend propped up on his elbow and staring at him.

"Huh?"

"I think you might be like Lucas," he repeated with his customary eye roll.

Eddie thought about the sporty jock-wannabe Sinclair, scrunching his nose.

"How?"

Dustin seemed pleased to be asked that as he sat up eagerly to proceed with his reasoning. Which were for sure very scientific and not pulled out of his ass. Eddie braced himself for an impromptu lecture.

"His grades dropped when he got his own room. But he aced all his tests when it was being painted, and he had to bunk with Erica for a few days. So, we made an experiment and whenever he would study or do homework with someone else in the room, it got better results than when he worked alone," he paused, eyeing his friend. "Are you following?"

Eddie clicked his tongue.

"What I'm following is you used your friend as a test subject."

The boy threw his hands in the air in the way that always made Eddie grin. The kid was so delightfully dramatic.

"For his benefit. And now for yours!"

Eddie huffed in thought, simultaneously hopeful to find a solution for his skittery brain and irritated it might have been that easy this whole time.

"So I just need a study buddy?" he asked, scrunching his nose.

"Yep," Dustin grinned at him. "I know your uncle isn't home most of the time, but you're welcome here whenever you need to work on something."

Eddie mulled that thought in his head, weighing pros and cons and asking his gut how it felt about it. His gut likes the food in Henderson's house though, so it might be a bit biased.

"You know what, Henderson? I just might take you up on that."

As if on cue, the front door opened and closed, the sound of keys dropping in the bowl following.

"Dustin?"

"Up here!" Dustin hollered and if Eddie was a lesser man, with shittier taste in music, it might have damaged his earbuds. But they were honed in by the sweet tones of metal, therefore a screeching teenager was not enough to break them at this point.

"Oh, hi Eddie!" Steve was standing in the doorway, slightly out of breath and hair not as magnificent as Eddie got used to seeing, a poster boy from a hairspray commercial no more. Ah, what capitalism does to people.

"Your hair looks sad," he observed with a slight tilt of his head.

"Uh," the guy raised his hand to his hair, pulling at the flat fringe self-consciously. "Well, sorry I didn't have the energy to doll myself back up after 8 hours of customer service."

Eddie snorted.

“Doll yourself up? Who says that?”

“I do,” Steve huffed, crossing his arms but the reddening apples of his cheeks betrayed his embarrassment. Good. What grown-ass man refers to himself as a doll? Even one looking like an animated Ken. But that would be dark magic, which Eddie of course doesn't condone.

“I think Robin started it,” Dustin offered, unhelpfully. “She was trying to bully him, but it backfired because he actually likes it.” He made a disgusted face.

“Hey!”

“A doll, Steve? That’s kinda gay,” Eddie shook his head feigning disappointment. Instead of morphing into irritation though, Steve’s face hardened, and suddenly he remembered his nerdy friend’s brother was actually a jock. Former, reformed, doesn't matter. Abs were abs.

“Yeah? And what’s wrong with that?” he asked, eyes set on Eddie, unblinking.

He took a quick glance around the room. The window was open, but it was the first floor and Gareth would kill him if he broke as much as a finger again. So he dusted off the little matchbox of courage that was left somewhere inside him, and offered:

“Uh, nothing? Gays are cool. Dolls are cute. All is good.” He stretched his lips in the best attempt at a smile he could muster right now.

Steve still has not blinked, which was starting to stress Eddie out. Were his eyes always this piercing? He was staring for too long, could match their exact shade to one of the trees surrounding the trailer park by now, but was too afraid to look away. If he showed weakness, he might get chewed alive, spat out and stomped on, for a good measure.

“Good,” Steve said finally, and Eddie could breathe again. “We don’t badmouth gays in this household.”

“We don’t,” Dustin nodded feverishly, eager to get his brother out of the room. This indeed seemed to appease him, as he finally unclenched his jaw, uncrossed his arms and rapped his knuckles against the door frame.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower and start on the dinner. You stayin’?” he asked, eyes back on Eddie, who was paralyzed enough, that Dustin had to swoop in and answer for him.

“Yep, he’s staying.”

“‘Kay,” Steve slapped the door frame, suddenly smiling again, and closed the door. If not for the slow breeze from the open window, Eddie would be already dead in the vacuum-sealed room, because he surely took away all the oxygen on his way out.

He scooted on the bed to face Dustin, who was about to open a book and start reading like whatever had just happened hadn’t just happened.

“Soo, is Steve…?”

Dustin looked at him. Eddie looked at him back.

“Is Steve what?” Dustin prodded, in that annoyed tone of his.

Eddie was a wordsmith, he could write and lead campaigns, produce not-half-bad lyrics and lie his way out of trouble. Usually. He got this.

He opened his mouth. Frowned. He did not get this.

“Gay?” he asked quietly.

“Pshhh, no,” Dustin waved his hand. “He’s a ladies' man.”

“Right, yeah,” Eddie nodded like the bobbing head figurine on his uncle’s dashboard. “Then why…”

Dustin shrugged, the unhelpful bastard.

“I think his father is a homophobe? And Steve was kind of a jerk a few years back, he’s trying to be better now. Overcompensating a bit, if you ask me but eh,” he shrugged again. The helpfulest kid in Hawkins. Baby Henderson opened his book, closing the topic, so Eddie fell back on the bed, taking a well-needed break from his study break.

Normally, when the topic of gays was brought up, it was unpleasant and long-winded, full of exchanged opinions, usually hateful ones. Here, the Hendersons were treating it like small talk, not the can of worms that just opened in Eddie’s stomach. Okay, gross. They would crawl around, who knows in which direction? And the can itself? So many sharp edges, so unsanitary.

Needless to say, it wasn’t something Eddie would forget about quickly like they seemed to expect him to.

Alas, he was Dustin’s study-guest, so the kid gave him five minutes to ponder on the worms crawling inside him, before slapping the side of his head with a book to get him back on track. He wouldn’t even let him out on a leak pass until he showed he was done with the chapter he started.

Finally free for a second, Eddie left the bathroom but instead of returning to Dustin’s room, he was lured downstairs by the atrocious sounds of ABBA. Was ABBA gay? He was going to overthink everything now, wasn’t he? Honestly, the whole pop genre felt gay. Metal, that was manly as fuck. Very heterosexual.

For a second he stood in the kitchen’s door frame watching the older Henderson sway his hips around in a yellow apron. It would be almost endearing if the music didn’t make his brain try to collapse on itself.

He quickly approached the radio and slammed the pause button to save the poor man from further eardrum damage.

“What is this?” he asked when Steve turned to face him.

“Uh. The radio?” he frowned, the poor guy having no idea what he was saying. The top 40 made him delirious.

“What was the radio playing?” Eddie asked in his most condescending tone, eyebrows raised.

“.... ABBA?”

Eddie scoffed.

“I’ll bring you some real music, hang on a second.” And he was gone, on a quest to educate the masses. “Masses” being one Steve Henderson, but as an older brother and Dustin’s role model he had a duty to uphold and Eddie was generous enough to help him out.

He ran out to his car and rummaged through his cassettes, wondering which one was most appropriate for a cooking background. Not a thing he would practice himself, but metalheads eat too, sometimes, so it couldn't be such a farfetched concept. Right?

Eventually, he dumped an armful of tapes on the counter, grinning at Steve wildly.

“One of them has to work for…” he waved a hand in the general direction of chopped-up vegetables. “Whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I will not believe you haven't cooked before.”

Eddie only shrugged at that and popped the first tape of choice into the player. Steve frowned at the tunes but wisely didn't object.

“Since you’re making yourself comfortable in my kitchen, why don’t you help me out a bit?”

“Ah, I’d love to, but there’s this solo I just have to-” he broke into an elaborate air guitar, imitating the riffs from memory while banging his head. He couldn’t see Steve’s face, but he was undoubtedly impressed. Eddie looked metal as fuck. He was super cool, super manly.

“I thought you were just taking a dump but then, guess what? I hear Iron Maiden from the kitchen!”

What wasn’t cool, was being scolded by a fourteen-year-old.

“Got lured by the sweet tunes, huh, big guy?”

“Dustin please, take him away from me.”

Dustin looked between the older boys, one maniacally jumping around, the other wielding a knife and a carrot. He considered his chances and favorable outcomes.

“If we switch to Metallica I’ll help with cooking,” he offered, to which Steve shrugged and Eddie gleefully switched the tapes.

He jumped around, watching the two Hendersons work together and to his absolute terror, he felt a teeny tiny desire to join in. Thankfully, his pride was still hidden beneath a half-dead tree.

He circled them like a curious cat, getting closer and closer, until his face almost squished against Steve’s arm, still dutifully chopping.

“What are we making?”

“We,” Steve accentuated, jostling the intruder's head. “Are making baked vegetables. You are jumping around like a lunatic.”

Eddie gasped.

“I am providing entertainment!”

“Can you provide the baking pan?” Dustin asked dryly. “It’s in the oven.”

“Only if it means I get to taste the fruits of my hard work.”

“You don’t have to help us to get dinner.” Steve bumped his shoulder with a roll of his eyes. “But, helpers get an extra cookie.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?”

Eddie was truly a genius. He got to help out his fake little brother and his older brother without outwardly asking to be included! And to think he failed senior year twice.

“Go do your nerdy things, I’ll call you when it’s done,” Steve wiped his hands on a towel, food in the oven and the timer set. Dustin was more than happy to leave, and was first to run up the stairs. Eddie was about to follow but a light tug on his shirt stopped him. He turned around, confused, only to be met with Steve pressing a finger to his lips, which, more confusion.

Not easing his grasp, he pulled him back into the kitchen and opened one of the cupboards, where he grabbed a jar and popped it open, releasing a mouthwatering aroma.

“One,” he ordered, and without having to be told twice, Eddie reached in to find a chocolate chip cookie.

“You trying to poison me?” he asked, even if his tongue was one slip away from tasting the treat.

“I would never put poison in my baking,” Steve made a face like the mere suggestion offended him. Eddie raised his eyebrows.

“You made this?”

“Fucking- Eat it before Dustin comes looking for you. I’m trying to be nice.” Steve gritted his teeth, putting the jar back away.

Eddie felt a little bad for pushing him, but only a little. He finally put the cookie in his mouth and took a bite.

Holy shit.

“This is so fucking good!” he mumbled, crumbs flying everywhere, which earned him a disgusted expression.

“Good thing I haven’t swept yet,” Steve murmured, looking at the floor with disdain. “Now scram. Don’t show up until dinner.”

“Yes, sir!” Eddie saluted, crumbs dripping, and ran away, before Steve’s deadly kitchen rag could reach his butt.

User tags: @i-have-three-feelings @mblogs @awkwardgravity1 @imacowboy3 [Steddie masterpost] [Ao3] [ko-fi]

#mine #steddie #ff #eddie munson #st #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things 4 #steddie fanfiction #fanfic #Steve henderson #steve is a henderson #eddie is an idiot #older brother steve #the hendersons #The Hendersons

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whatwooshkai · 1 month ago

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Lucky Number 7!

"Designation?"

"Chase."

Chase keeps his finials pinned flat against his helm, doorwings wide and fanned to keep the bot behind him from getting too close, which they have been for the past five minutes.

He has a vibroknife in his subspace. He'd rather not use it- you can only make a first impression once.

The femme flips through a datapad until her optics go wide. "Oh," she murmurs, the dangling jewelry from her finials making a loud ting! when they flatten to her helm. "Oh, you're one of those. Hang on."

Chase's optic twitches. He is normally very good at keeping his emotions in check, and no one who knows him has ever seen his temper, and that's the way he wants to keep it.

But if one more bot refers to him as "one of those" he's going to do something stupid.

Chase hates doing stupid things.

"Okay, I got you right here!" The femme gives him a sheepish smile as she hands over a pair of keycards. "There was an issue with organizing the dorms this year. Normally you'd be put with other bots in your track but you ended up in the randomized group, so you'll be staying with a few bots from other tracks. That's not a problem, is it?"

Chase's finials lift slightly away from his helm. "That is fine," he says, accepting the cards. That is... probably for the best, actually. "Thank you."

"No problem!" the femme says brightly. "So you're in room 704. Elevators are on your left. Next!"

Chase shuffles away from the table, readjusting the bag he has slung over his shoulder, eyeing the key cards in his hand.

Primus, when was the last time he met new people?

The elevator is blessedly empty when he steps inside, and so is the hallway as he follows it down to his room. Well, he was in one of the last groups to check in, so that's expected.

The door has four slots for name tags, as all of the ones in this hallway do. Only two have been filled in so far, for mechs "Boulder" and "Heatwave". Both have little drawings on them, one better than the other's. However, both seem to have identical handwriting... interesting.

So it seems only two have checked in. Maybe he'll have a choice of berth, then.

Chase swipes the key card and gently opens the door.

There's two sets of bunk berths, a desk in front and behind each one. None seem to have been claimed, but on the left, there's a bag tossed on the top bunk and a few posters plastered up already, and some blankets and pillows piled up. And on the left, there's a bag on the bottom bunk, and-

Oh. He's being glared at.

"Another one?" the mech mutters, green optics narrowed at Chase. He's orange a white, with a scar cutting down through one optic. He looks about Chase's age. "'Oh, we'll get you your own room, Blades'! my aft. Mechs walking in every five minutes," he huffs.

Chase frowns. "The attitude is hardly appropriate," he says, and the mech's optics suddenly go wide, as if he thought Chase couldn't hear him.

He mutters something unintelligible and then turns over on his side, revealing a pair of rotors. A flight frame, then.

Blades. His name wasn't on the door.

Chase looks around at the other bags. So his choice has been made for him, then. As usual.

He sets his bag down on the berth to the left, projecting his calendar up on the wall. And then he sits.

He's not really sure what to do now. Conversation is not really an option, what with the less-than-warm welcome, and he has no need to explore the city he grew up in.

Well, that’s a bit of a stretch. He mostly grew up in various facilities around the city, but he spent enough time out on the streets to know it.

Besides… he’d really rather not risk running into his batch. Not alone, at least.

Even though his coding cries for them, his frame hurts without them, he couldn’t get out of berth for several days after they were officially separated-

He’s better now. He has to be better.

He’s never had to try and make new friends. He’s never had to make friends, period. Chase can’t remember the last time he met someone new before this week.

But it can’t be that hard, can it? Sure, this Blades is… hostile… but maybe the others are a little more friendly!

Speaking of- someone decides to kick the door open at that very moment.

Blades looks up, and slight relief teeks through his field as he lies back down. So one of the mechs on the door, then.

Heatwave, he imagines- only because the mech is hot.

He stops a few feet from Chase once he lays optics on him, but Chase can feel the heat he gives off from here. That has to be unnatural, surely. Even Ultra Magnus, the largest mech he’s ever met, did not give off that much heat.

Beyond the odd temperature, the mech looks friendly enough. He’s red, with bright and warm yellow optics, and twin scars cutting up one cheek. In his arms are a plethora of cubes and energon sweets, several shoved in his mouth as well.

He mumbles something Chase can’t make out around the food in his mouth, then tosses a cube at Blades. The flight frame mutters some kind of thanks, and the mech turns back to Chase.

He shuffles his items into one arm and offers a hand to Chase. He once again speaks, presumably introducing himself, but Chase can’t understand a word he says.

He takes his hand and shakes it. “You really shouldn’t speak with your mouth full,” he says.

Yellow optics narrow at him. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want,” he snaps. There’s a thick accent there that the universal translator is doing its best to suppress. “I asked for your name.”

Chase’s doorwings flick and the mech’s optics only follow them for a second before training on Chase’s face again. “Chase,” he says. “I will have to ask you for yours again, I did not understand you. Also, please let go of my hand.”

“Heatwave.” A correct guess, then. Chase’s doorwings raise slightly, but Heatwave’s gaze doesn’t shift to them again. Instead, he keeps his optics trained on Chase’s face, who looks away from the optic contact. He does release Chase’s hand, though. “You should check out the mess hall,” he says, moving his quarry back to both arms. “Never seen so much fuel in my life.”

Chase watches him in mild fascination as he figures out how to climb the ladder of the bunk without dropping any of the cubes, and from there Chase can’t see what he does with them.

So he’s expected to go collect his own ration. Good to know.

…He should be trying to make more conversation, right? Blades might be a lost cause but Heatwave at least introduced himself.

He just… doesn’t know what to do from here. Should he ask what track Heatwave is in? He can guess, from the paint job, but would Heatwave even entertain that? He’s sure he knows what Chase is here for, and has thankfully not said anything derogatory about it… yet.

It’s not wrong to expect it to happen eventually, right?

Then he realizes something. “Where are the washracks?”

Heatwave leans out over the top of the bunk. “Hallway.”

Chase frowns. “Why?”

“What, never been in a communal wash rack before?” Heatwave asks, an oddly aggressive tone to his voice. “This ain’t no prissy enforcer academy, Chase. You’ll hafta get used to other mechs in your space.”

Oh, that accent is really coming out now. Chase wishes he could place it. “It is not a problem,” he growls, though it is… not ideal. The idea of sharing washracks with anyone other than his batch makes his plating crawl. He doesn’t appreciate the attitude, though.

“Whatever you say.” Heatwave leans back.

Okay. So far, his roommates are violently antisocial and rude. Wonderful.

It is now that the fourth roommate decides to show themselves, and Chase braces himself for the worst.

They gently push the door open, holding a datapad. They’re green and far more heavyset than any of the others, though Heatwave comes close. Blue optics widen at him. “Hello,” they say, in very thickly accented Common.

No universal translator, then. Interesting.

“Hello,” Chase says back, offering his hand. “Chase.”

“Boulder.” So that’s all four. Good. “I am… stop by for my datapad. Good to meet you.”

“And you.” Primus almighty, Chase wishes he’d met someone who wasn’t Iaconian before today, because all these new accents, and he can’t place a single one. Maybe if he knew what their mother language is, he could speak to them better? “If you speak in your native language, I can still understand it,” Chase says, tapping his throat.

“I know,” Boulder says. “But I like to make the effort.”

“Okay.”

Boulder turns away from him and grabs the datapad from their bag, before offering everyone a wave and leaving again.

Chase sits down on his berth again. Boulder seems nice.

…This might not be so bad.

#if you were wondering heatwave is the better artist lol #and boulder did write his name for him #heatwave’s guardians tried their best to instill politeness and manners into him #and it ends up in an odd mix of “yes sir” “yes ma’am” while saying something incredibly rude and crass #but they finally meet! how fun #they have no idea just how well they’ll get along #but a few notes about universal translators #there are two components: a vocoder implant and code #the code listens to whatever language they’re being spoken to as and repeats it through the vocoder #so for example #chase is speaking iaconi #so if only one person has a translator it’s fine #but it is required by the academy so they will be outfitting Boulder with one #Boulder also left quickly because they are going to the library to read!!! so many books #maccadam #transformers #transformers rescue bots #tfrb au #smoke and mirrors au #academy s&m ask game #tfrb chase #tfrb blades #tfrb heatwave #tfrb boulder #tf rescue bots #ask game #woosh answers #thanks for the ask!!

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erisenyo · 2 months ago

Text

Some Bato/Hakoda for @dilf-cember, anyone? Featuring longing for a dilf and also despairing at his obtuseness? Technically late for Week 1, Old Scars/War Wounds, but I'm still counting it:

Bato's bedroll smacks against the ground, jerking Hakoda's gaze up from his oh-so-studious examination of the rather-pungent jar of salve to find Bato staring at him, mouth happen open.

"What...did you think I'd say to that?" Bato finally asks, slow.

"I..." Hakoda hadn't really gotten that far, to realize there was anything to think over. "Yes?"

Bato snorts softly, kneeling to straighten out his bedding. "Does that work for you, usually?" A sideways glance through his lashes as he stretches to flatten the blanket. "Does everyone strip just because you ask them to?"

"I--what--I mean, no! But--or, yes, rather, or--" Hakoda snaps his mouth shut, flustered by his own...fluster. And by the fact that he doesn't want to say no. Traditionally the answer is yes, and traditionally Hakoda would never ask unless he already knows its a yes, but also, "I just asked you to take your shirt off."

Bato somehow raises an eyebrow at him and eyes him askance through his lashes at the same time, pointed.

"Your scar," Hakoda defends himself, waving the salve at...something. "In the weather--and burns can tighten up, and..."

"And you wanted to feel up my chest?" Bato cuts in, teasing and kneeling up to make a show of flexing like one of those ridiculous wrestling posters they find all over the Earth Kingdom ports for the Earth Racket or whatever its called. "You know you just had to ask, 'Koda."

Hakoda sputters wordlessly in his own defense, mortified to realize he's blushing as he suddenly thinks about it, which--what. He and Bato have been friends since before they could walk. They've swum and sweated and bathed together, bunked down and huddled up. Since when does the idea of Bato's chest--

"'Koda." Hakoda starts, bobbling the salve and clutching it to his chest, his heart pounding from the near-miss as he looks back at Bato's suddenly serious face. "You only ever have to ask."

I know, Hakoda almost says, except that feels too serious somehow, and also like maybe that thing is happening where he gets all caught up in the wrong things.

"Yeah, well," he says inanely instead, fumbling for what to say next. Ship and spear, he's being weird. He can tell he's being weird. He needs to stop being weird, so Bato doesn't think he finds his burn scar off putting or shameful or-- "Just looking out for my bud. Gotta keep that right hand mobile, right?" he teases weakly, mustering a grin. "That's what friends do."

Bato stares at him a long moment, still in a way Hakoda doesn't know how to read, and Hakoda is suddenly achingly aware of that fact, and the weird buzzing feeling in his chest, and also that his grin his going to edge into grimace territory in a few more--

"Right," Bato says, finally turning back to finish laying out his bedroll on the opposite wall of their little tent from Hakoda's. "Right. That's what friends do."

#Oblivious Hakoda has got me in his grips apparently lol #Bato #Hakoda #Bakoda #dilfcember #dilfcember 2024 #atla fic #atla ficlet

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mwolf0epsilon · 1 year ago

Text

The 501st Gang Meet their 105th Counterparts

A prequel to my last post

Rex, staring uneasily at the fully kitted captain Carno who is just silently staring at him: ...Uh, welcome aboard. I'm sure you'll feel right at home with the 501st and, should you need anything, we're more than willing to accomodate. Carno, continuing to stare menacingly before finally speaking up in a raspy and very hushed tone: I don't like your face. Rex: Wh-- Carno, shoving past him rudely: Stay out of my way, Blondie. I don't need some flashy Jedi's pet putting a spotlight on me. Rex, starting to think this might not be as easy as the briefing made it sound: Oh boy...

James, looking Jesse up and down while playing with his braid: So, is like, the tat supposed to be some kinda statement, or are you just really into licking boots? Jesse, pausing: I... Excuse me?! -staring at James wide-eyed- James: Oooh, it's a statement isn't it? Dang boy, they should slap you on a poster. Every battalion needs a show fathier, I guess! Jesse, glaring: I don't like you. James: Feeling's mutual. This ship ain't big enough for two token pretty boys. Jesse: No, no it isn't.

Hardcase, excitedly showing Clearcut around while talking like a ship running a click per second: Clearcut, allowing Hardcase to drag him around while sort of tuning him out and only picking up on vital pieces of information like emergency hallways, weapons storage and other such things: Hardcase: You don't talk much do ya? That's fine I'll talk for the both of us! Clearcut: By all means, carry on. Hardcase, happily carrying on: I can tell we're both gonna get along really well. Clearcut: I agree.

Kix, staring at Bon who's been shaking and on the verge of tears since arriving: Bon, staring back at Kix with very wet eyes while holding a fully stocked medkit in hand: I get to use this on anyone who comes in here? Kix, blinking: ... Yes. This is the medbay after all. Bon: And I'm allowed to treat them? I'm allowed? Kix, feeling a little uneasy: Yes...? Bon, openly crying now: This is the happiest day of my life... Kix, incredibly uncomfortable: Ah...

Echo & Fives, having a stare down with Wallflower & Nowt: Wallflower & Nowt, staring back at Fives and Echo with an impassive and a smug look respectively: Fives, opens up his mouth to say something: Nowt: Bitch. Wallflower, turning to slap his brother across the face: Captain said to put a sock in it. Nowt: The captain can suck it! If it wasn't for me he wouldn't know half the kark the others get up to when he's not looking! Wallflower: Karkin' snitch! Fives, closing his mouth and looking at Echo: Echo, nodding at Fives as both of them slowly back away from the now furiously arguing Jenga Twins:

Tup, sitting on the floor wrapped in a thin blanket because he was kicked out of his bunk and had his belongings taken: Can I at least have my brush back? Lobo, tossing him a pair of scissors instead: No amount of brushing will make that rat's nest look any less like osik. Tup, narrowly avoiding getting hit by the scissors and now standing up angrily: I'm gonna knock your teeth out. Lobo, equally angry: I'm gonna make you eat your own hair. Tup & Lobo launch themselves at each other and proceed to start a fight:

Dogma, a little overwhelmed as Caprichoso pulls him along while he's supposed to be the one giving him a tour of the ship: Caprichoso, wide-eyed and extremely excited about everything he's seen so far: Wow! You 501st lot have EVERYTHING! Good eats, tons of new gear up for grabs, full training room setup, clean showers, clean barracks, fully stocked medbay... Your Jedi spoil you so good! You must be the greatest troopers ever! Dogma: I... I wouldn't say they spoil us... That'd be a sign of unfair favoritism and would go against the no fraternization rules. And while the 501st certainly has a degree of great competency among many of the GAR's forces, those things you've listed are all requirements that were put forward to the Republic since the beginning of the army's first year of deployment. An ill-prepared and ill-equipment battalion wouldn't serve properly. Caprichoso: I know what you mean. But our general didn't see it that way. Thought we could push ourselves to be better without extra help... But eh! Who cares? The blighter is dead an' buried while we're here now! Gosh... You think your medic could give me a once over? Or or or, maybe we could hit the mess? Or uh! A shower yeah! I haven't had a shower in two weeks... My armour's getting more rank than I am ehehe! Get it? Dogma, moving slightly away from Caprichoso out of mild disgust: I, yes, a hot shower and a hot meal, then I can continue giving you the to-- Caprichoso: YOU GUYS GET HOT WATER?! I LOVE IT HERE ALREADY! -hugging Dogma tightly- We are gonna be such great friends! Dogma, eyes watering at the intense stench of B.O as well as the bone crushing hug of the rather clingy trooper: Stars have mercy...

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ladywaffles · 1 year ago

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16 + icemav for the drunken confession prompts!!!

okay so this one kinda ran away from me, oops! thank you for playing <3

"This is not a dream, I think. In my dreams, we're usually kissing."

send me a pairing and a number!

It lasts sixteen months.

They run out the clock as best as they can, and then they put overtime on the clock and run that down too.

But Ice has always wanted, and then wanted more, and TOPGUN was only ever a stop on the way to the top for him.

He understood that going in; their time was limited. Maverick has never shied away from a challenge, though, especially one that Iceman placed in front of him.

Create a life that makes Iceman want to stop, for him. Make a place that Iceman won’t want to leave, when the time comes.

(It will be many years down the line when he finds out, but Maverick was almost successful in his attempt. It is only the decades they have behind them, spent together, that stops this from hurting.)

So Ice’s time at TOPGUN comes to an end. It’s almost a joke, really; Maverick’s track record of relationships in Miramar is oh-for-two. Charlie had packed off for D.C. before Ice rotated back stateside. Maverick was too burned by the experience to even think about approaching Ice in any way that hinted of romance.

Sixteen months of flying circles around hotshot flyboys with Ice on his wing, the wide expanse of the Pacific stretching out in front of him. He really couldn’t hope for anything better. He only wishes he had more time.

They spend their last night of freedom—Ice’s second-to-last night onshore—on a pub crawl that Mav will be feeling in the morning. He won’t regret it, but even as he matches Ice shot for shot, because Ice is an all-American poster boy but he hates beer more than anything, Maverick wants to slow down and take in these last memories of Ice at his side. They serve at the pleasure of the Navy, and only God knows when the brass will smile on them and send down orders to reunite Maverick Mitchell and the Iceman, the only fighter pilots on active duty to score air-to-air kills since the end of the Vietnam War.

They close out a bar on the other side of town, and then because it’s Ice’s last night and Ice gets what he wants, no matter how stupid Maverick thinks it might be, they end up on a picnic bench in some park, looking up at the admittedly bright stars.

“Do you ever miss it?” Ice asks.

“Hmm?” Maverick’s head is still fuzzy, his cheeks still warm with all the alcohol rushing through his body.

“The stars,” Ice says, staring up. “When you’re here, don’t you miss it? When you were out on the Enterprise. I swear I used to go up on deck every night just to look at the stars.”

Maverick shrugs. “They’re mostly the same, no matter where you go. Maybe if I crossed the line and the constellations changed, I’d care more, but stars are stars.”

“Huh.”

“Do you?” Maverick turns to look at Ice, who seems to be tracing out lines in his mind, vectors towards true north, or maybe the outline of Cygnus.

“Yeah. Where I grew up, the light pollution was so bad, you could barely make out the North Star. The city was just too bright. The first time I was on a carrier, and I saw the stars, what they actually looked like… Man, Slider must’ve thought I was dumb, walking around with my mouth gaping open like a fish. Nearly ate shit when we were heading back to bunk because my head was in the clouds, I hit the knee-knockers. He didn’t let that one go for weeks.”

“At least you’ll get to see them again,” Maverick tells him.

Stay, his heart begs him to say. Stay here, with me. I’m not the starry night sky, but can’t I be enough? Please, let me be enough to keep you.

“Yeah,” Ice muses. “I almost wish I could take you with me.”

“What?” Maverick lets out a shaky laugh.

Ice smiles, that small little thing that he does whenever he’s amused, the one that Maverick learned to look for early on. A blink-and-you-miss it grin, a glimpse into the real man behind the Iceman.

“What? Was it not obvious? You need me to say it out loud?”

“I don’t—”

“I’m gonna miss you, Mitchell,” Ice says easily. He doesn’t look in Maverick’s direction, even as he continues. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do out there without you on my wing. It’s been so long since I— since I flew without you right there, annoying me over the radio. What am I gonna do without you chattering in my ear?”

“I’m sure you’ll find another flyboy out there to talk your ear off,” Maverick replies, falling into the banter. It’s not what he expected from Ice, but maybe the alcohol had more of an effect on Ice than he thought it did.

“I would stay here, if I could,” Ice admits.

You can! Maverick wants to cry. You can stay here! Fly with me! Stay with me!

“I’m gonna be a tough act to follow,” he says instead.

“You sure are,” Ice agrees.

“You can’t stay here if you want that promotion, though. That’s what you want.”

“What I want,” Ice repeats. “You know, these last few weeks, I wanted nothing more than this.”

Ice looks at him now, a blush on his cheeks from the chill bite of the midnight air and the alcohol coursing through his veins.

Maverick furrows his brow. “This?”

“Just sitting here, taking a moment to enjoy your company. Don’t let it get to your head, Mitchell, I’m still the better pilot, but you’re a good man. Everyone’s wanted something from me these last few weeks, and I was worried I wouldn’t get a chance to say it.”

Maverick cracks a grin. “You were thinking about me?”

Ice groans. “Of course that’s what you latch onto.”

“Iceman, thinking about little ol’ me!” Maverick jumps up and yells it out to the world, teasing Ice. It’s the only way he can think to make it hurt a little less, that it took Ice this long to say anything. “I win!”

“This isn’t what I was dreaming of,” Ice deadpans.

Maverick turns to him, breathless. That… changes things. “You were dreaming of me?” He sits back down next to Ice, a little closer than before. Their knees are knocking together.

Ice stares down at the ground, focusing on the grass with deadly intent.

“Yes. Yeah,” he breathes out.

“And is this like your dream?” Maverick asks gently. “Is this the dream you wanted?”

“This is not a dream, I think,” Ice answers in a soft voice. “In my dreams, by now, we’re usually kissing.”

And Ice looks up at him, his heart fully bared and placed in Maverick’s hands, his eyes full of hope and fear in equal measures, and Maverick aches.

“I would’ve said something sooner,” Ice continues, “But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to risk it. It took me all night to work up the courage to say something, and all that alcohol to pry it from my own damn self, but the only thing I’ve wanted to do all night is just say it and take you back to mine, so I could have you, just for the one night—”

Maverick cuts him off with a hand on his jaw. He can feel the flush in Ice’s cheeks, the hot blush that rises to his skin. “Ice, it’s okay,” he says.

And slowly, so Ice knows that it’s coming, so Ice can stop him if he wants to (even though that might break Maverick’s heart, and maybe Ice’s too, if he’s understanding this right), Maverick presses his lips to Ice’s. He feels the hot puff of Ice’s sigh against his lips, then the hard tug of Ice’s hands on his hips as he deepens the kiss.

Maverick willingly follows where Ice leads him, because his wingman has never led him astray. He ends up straddled across Ice’s lap, hanging on desperately as Ice kisses him with a passion he’s never felt from anyone else.

It’s only when he can’t breathe anymore that he stops, leaning his forehead against Ice’s, his weight falling back on his haunches. Ice’s hands steady him as they breathe together, big, heaving sighs like they’d just done the thousand-yard dash.

Stay, Maverick’s heart chants. Stay with me, don’t leave. Ask me to go with you, and I will. Just say the words.

“You have to go,” Maverick says sadly. He’s sobering up faster than he ever has before, realizing that there are a scant few hours left between now and when Ice goes back to sea.

“I have to go,” Ice repeats. He presses a light kiss to Maverick’s lips.

I’m sorry.

“I’ll be here,” he says.

Come back to me. I can’t lose you too.

Maverick kisses him again, and again, and again, to drive the point home.

“I’ll come back,” Ice replies, understanding.

The timer on Ice’s last day has already started ticking. Maverick is surprised more than anything when Ice drives them back to his housing, seven hours after they first set out on their pub crawl, and opens the passenger door for Maverick. He leads him into his bedroom and holds him for the rest of the night, falling asleep just as the sun starts to peek through the blinds.

Maverick doesn’t want to let go, but he won’t stop Ice. He commits Ice to memory as best he can, and when the time comes, he kisses Ice hard, pouring sixteen months of wanting and desire and love into it.

Ice meets him with the same fervor, the same built-up emotion flowing out of him, a mirror image of his own feelings reflected back to him.

They’re wingmen, after all.

#top gun #icemav #ask #lamby.prompt

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