#it’s from a kit this isn’t my pattern
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Figured I would show u guys my new hobby! I’ve been learning embroidery and just finished this mushroom kit I got on Amazon. It’s really fun and relaxing, and it’s nice to create something with my hands <3
#photo#embroidery#it’s from a kit this isn’t my pattern#shroomy lads are gonna go in a frame on my wall <3
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ᡣ𐭩 HQ DAD MOMENTS !
✎ feat. k. kozume, k. tobio, o. tooru
ᡣ𐭩 KENMA KOZUME
it’s about three a.m and kenma really needs to pee but he’s scared that you’ll creep up on him and scold him, like his parents used to (he swears he’s an adult). he sighs, family never changes.
the door creaks open.
kenma spins in his chair slowly, “now listen, i can explain—”
his baby sits on the ground, big curious eyes wandering from him to the monitor.
kenma lets out a sigh, pulling his headphones down to his neck, “shouldn’t you be asleep?”
miyu tilts her head as if to ask him the same question.
“fine, fine.” kenma mutters, picking her up and wrapping an arm around her to keep warm as he spins back around, “i’ll let you play with me as long as you keep quiet.”
he narrows his eyes at her, “and no throwing up or pooping.”
miyu smooshes kenma’s cheeks together in acceptance and he nods, holding out a finger to which she wraps her hand around. “we have a deal then, partner in crime.”
the next twenty minutes pass in a blur, with his daughter criticising him with her babbles and pulling on the strings of his hoodie while kenma tries to shush her in the quietest way possible. the sound of keys being smashed fills the silence as kenma takes a break, rubbing his eyes.
he freezes immediately when he hears footsteps trudging to his room. oh shit.
kenma prays that it’s some ghost instead of his wife but he knows the pattern of those steps too well. kenma rushes to manoeuvre under the table and miyu lets out a traitorous giggle when he bangs his head.
the door opens and you yawn, rubbing your eyes.
“kenma?”
“what the—” your eyes squint in the bright glare of the monitor but even half asleep and caught between reality and dreams, you don’t think kenma can shrink so quickly, “where’s papa?”
your baby stares at you blankly, sitting in her dad’s gaming chair and wearing too large headphones that slip off her ears.
kenma doesn’t have to look to know she snitched so he sneaks out of his hiding place. not before banging his head once again though.
like the sadists his family is, miyu laughs again while you give him a look that says ‘you deserved it’.
he rubs his poor head to soothe it, “listen, i can explain—”
“you’re on diaper duty for the whole of next week.”
ᡣ𐭩 KAGEYAMA TOBIO
it breaks tobio’s heart when your daughter comes home from school with a tear stained face. her unicorn backpack is dropped on the floor with a thud as she rushes to burrow herself into her dad’s leg.
tobio picks her up and settles her onto his lap, frowning as he awkwardly pats her head. your daughter curls into him, fisting his shirt tightly.
“what happened?”
your daughter looks up at him, eyes brimming with tears, “s-some boy said that my nails s-sucked.” she mumbles through a soft pout on her lips.
tobio’s frown deepens as he looks down at her chubby fingers fiddling with his shirt. sure, one hand with pink glitter and the other with various shades of rainbow wouldn’t be his first choice but anything looks cute on his girl (his words, not mine.)
“they’re idiots. your nails are fine.”
he thinks that isn’t the right thing to say when her bottom lip starts wobbling. panic twists into his chest and he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind, “you can paint mine.”
her sniffles pause, “really?”
no. he doesn’t want to go out with gem nails from a five year old’s nail kit. “really.”
her eyes brighten up and tobio thinks the impending doom of embarrassment is worth bearing when she bounces and skips to get her nail kit.
hours of frozen playing in the background pass and that’s how you find your husband finishing up the last of his clumsily painted nails at ten in the night, your daughter tucked into a burrito of blankets and drooling on his chest.
your gaze snags on the heart drawn on his hand and a soft smile spreads on your lips when you recognise the initials.
yeah. when the prize is his favourite girls’ smiles, tobio can definitely deal with his deformed hello kitty nails being captured on camera in his next match.
ᡣ𐭩 OIKAWA TORU
you’ve made many mistakes in your life but you’re starting to think that your biggest one yet is bringing oikawa to the mall with you.
he was already unbearable when you were dating, buying you anything and everything that you glanced at for more than ten seconds. but now, it’s reached a point where you debate between pretending not to know him (which is hard when you both have the same last name) or straight up abandoning him and going home.
“babe! check this out!”
you sigh at his excited yell and your baby mirrors your annoyance from her stroller, “what is it this time?”
“isn’t this just adora—hey, careful! that’s my foot!” you stop just short of running over oikawa with the stroller. he sighs and holds up a pastel dress only slightly bigger than his hand, “isn’t it adorable? the bow is cute too.”
he leans down to the stroller, eyes sparkling, “you like it, don’t you, yuko-chan?”
your baby spits out her pacifier in response, crossing her chubby arms. you barely stifle a laugh at oikawa’s shoulders drooping.
“you’ve been spending way too much time with that thug, uncle iwa.” toru pouts.
at the mention of her favourite person in the world, yuko brightens up, clapping her hands. this time, you do laugh when oikawa’s jaw drops open.
“you wound my heart, yuko-chan.” he places a hand over his heart, letting out a sigh like a damsel in distress, “give papa a kiss and fix him up again.”
he looks down at her and finds her chewing on her thumb, attention diverted to a panda plushie. oikawa sighs and takes matters into his own hands, lifting up the baby to his eye level. the two have an intense staring contest before yuko pulls down her lower eyelid, blowing a raspberry at her father.
“wonder who she learnt that from,” you say drily.
your daughter is the only one who, aside from you, can humble her father and she does a good job at it, humiliating him everyday. oikawa doesn’t mind though, offensiveness gone in an instant as he peppers kisses all over yuko’s face. he coos at her little grunts before carrying his victim over to another trial of clothes.
you smile at your little family and follow them, dropping the panda plushie into the cart. you know toru will come back looking for it again anyway if you don’t.
anything to make his little girl happy.
#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu#oikawa x reader#kenma x reader#kageyama x reader#oikawa toru#kenma kozume#kageyama tobio#vera’s.hq.library.✎
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Steddie Drabble, TW: child abuse.
Initially, Wayne doesn’t care for Steve. Calls him “the Harrington boy” or “Richard’s son” with contempt, asks if “Richard’s son” is coming over for dinner again and Eddie just rolls his eyes and says “yes, Wayne, STEVE is coming over at 7.” Wayne doesn’t like him because…well, he’s not stupid to judge a book by its cover, he thinks.
But the fifth time Harrington comes over, he brings a bouquet of flowers, and Eddie, well, his cheeks are redder than the spaghetti sauce Wayne’s been stirring, so that’s something.
And then the sixth time Steve comes over, he brings Wayne a Garfield magnet. It’s small, “found it at the thrifty mart with Robin, I’m sorry it’s not brand new…” Steve mumbles, and Eddie is wide eyed and smiling, and Wayne LOVES Garfield. He puts it on the fridge, pats Steve on the back, says “um, thank you son.”
They fall into a pattern, the three of them. Steve comes over for dinner every Friday night after work. He dresses clean and is polite to Wayne, helps with the dishes, sometimes brings bread rolls or licorice or beer or jokes. Eddie starts setting the table. Wayne starts laughing at the jokes. After Steve leaves, Wayne knows Eddie smiles himself to sleep. It’s different, now.
And then the next time Steve is supposed to come over for dinner, he doesn’t show. Eddie had been making macaroni and cheese all evening, grating the cheese carefully as he bopped his head to some metal song, cheerful, and then it was 7 and then it was 8 and then Wayne thought “maybe call him, Ed.”
Nobody answers. When they call again, nobody answers. And Wayne has a bad feeling about it.
It isn’t until almost 11, dinner cold and Eddie pacing, about to radio someone named Robin when Steve’s car pulls up, they know the lights so well. They run outside to greet him and Eddie freezes when Steve starts falling out of the drivers seat, face dark and pained. Wayne jumps into action. Wayne catches Steve and hauls him into the trailer, his living room, and oh god, he’s covered in bruises like he was put through Eddie’s cheese grater, and oh god, Eddie’s broken out into tears behind him.
Steve’s left eye is swollen shut, and his face is purple and bloody. His lip is split and his hair is wild, his shirt is torn, and Wayne wonders what’s underneath the shirt as he gets the first aid kit, wonders how the hell he thought Steven was anything other than an angel.
Eddie gets a dish towel wet in the kitchen and cleans Steve’s face, quiet and crying, and Wayne sets the first aid kit down next to Eddie and makes some coffee. He thinks about talking, doesn’t. Touches the Garfield magnet for good luck. He feels like maybe Steve needs it.
Steve who is holding Eddie’s wrist as he cleans him up, wincing and crying from his good eye. Finally, after a silence that gives Wayne heartburn, Eddie sits back on his heels and says whisper quiet, “your dad?”
Steve gulps, blinks. “My uh, my dad. I was writing you uh, uh a love note.” Eddie looks over at Wayne. Wayne wipes his brow. “But uh, he found it, and your name’s not uh, Edith” Steve lets out a chuff, winces again. “So he asked what was going on, and I told him. I told him. And then he said I had one minute to take it back or he’d make me take it back.” Eddie lets out a small gasp, more like a howl, and sits completely on the floor. Wayne sits down at the table, cold mac and cheese looking like a sick joke. And he’s so mad. Wayne is so, so mad, seeing this young man who so obviously loves his pride and joy, shares in his pride and joy, who brings him apples to make apple pie, he growls out
“Don’t you worry about a thing, Steven, not one thing. You stay here long as you like, hell, don’t leave. We got you, boy.”
And that’s that. Steve crumples in on himself, and Eddie pulls him into a big hug, just holds him, rocks him, coos “a love note, huh, sweetheart? For me?” And Steve nods until he nods off.
The next morning, while Robin takes care of Steve, Wayne and Eddie break into Steve’s room, clear out everything he owns, and slash his dad’s tires. That was Wayne’s idea - the least he could do for a loved one.
#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#steddie drabble#wayne munson#I just am obsessed with Wayne being like who is this snotty rich kids oops I adopted him#Wayne and Steve forever#also Steve gives me huge scared of my dad vibes#so I just feel like if he came out he’d be beat up#tw: abuse#but I also think that if Steve was hurt#Wayne and Eddie would be like oh yeah? death to you#anyway idk#I just love them your honor
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Here we go again,
Puzzles/ jigsaws would confuse Aliens so much
Set on the serpentine, beginning of the humans tenure
Important crew:
Primoz, captain -Limoyh a four armed species-Krag, second in command (brother of Primoz)
Kit, dokter -avian, bird like, she has feathers like a swallow-
Ortez, ASR (all species resources, human resources in space) -kiltak, insectoid species, think ants but exoskeleton-
Lugea, helmsperson (does the steering) -rock like alien-
Artex, engineer/mechanic 1 -also Kiltak-
And then our humans:
Kamari, navigator -Eritrean woman- (has cat named Sidra)
Markus, weapons expert (knows how to use them and upkeep, also shields) -Swedish man-
Petrus, mechanic/engineer 2 - Italian man-
Lilly, administrator/note keeper (learns languages for fun)-english woman-
~~~~~~~
Puzzles
The serpentine is on route between trading posts, this is currently the furthest route without proper jump point because of the static energy surrounding the dual planets castor and pollux.
Primoz is getting worried. The humans are becoming increasingly more jittery and Kamari looks like she a pinch away from punch someone, Markus has been ‘humming’ a song that annoys her greatly. Honestly the noises the tall man is making don’t seem that bad but every few minutes her eyebrows twitch which Ortez told him is a sign of frustration.
Before the captain can figure out how to keep them from doing something deathworld worthy, Lilly comes in with precariously stacked carton boxes and Petrus carrying a table. Setting the pile down the smallest human straightens out “look what i brought! Old earth puzzles! This one has a deer and this one has the old world wonders” immediately the humming stops and Markus is at the table with Petrus “oh yes Lilly you are the best! I wanna do the deer one, that is gonna be a challenge”
With the table in the corner of the bridge the tension among crew is nearly gone, as all species try to put the cut apart pictures together, Lilly brought 9 puzzles and at a certain point a competition was forming: after one of the human unit had finished a puzzle the other crew try to make it in less time. They have yet to win.
Looking at his relaxed crew Primoz grins at his brother who is trying to use all his four arms to put pieces together without much succes. Turning away from the competition he taps Lilly on her shoulder “how do you guys do it? Also why did you think to take these things with you.” Lilly looks up from her drawing (the crew bent over the table making the puzzle) “well i knew it was going to be a long trip, Kamari thinks Markus will be ‘professional’ but he can’t help himself” her soft smile when she puts air punctuation around professional makes her look much younger than she is “puzzles are something many humans enjoy, not everyone is as good at them as Markus, but he does this thing where he uses the shape of them more than colours. While he isn’t colour blind, he has real trouble with telling differences in shades. No idea why it works this well but it does, Petrus has already won three nights of free drinking on Castor from betting.” All of a sudden looking bashful Lilly ducks her head “ah eh yes sorry forget i said that we don’t bet on this at all!” Primoz just grins “nobody has broken anything this whole trip, im not going to disrupt the flow you and your unit created. Don’t worry.”
At arrival Petrus has won the whole human crew free drinks for the foreseeable future, and the crew in its entirety hooked on puzzles. While not all species see the colours the same way or understand the patterning in the pieces the feeling of putting in the correct pieces makes it such an enjoyable activity that Lilly brings new puzzles after every holiday back home.
~~~~~~~~~
This one was born out of the confusion my family had when we were making puzzles (jigsaws?) the pictures in pieces… this is where it becomes super clear English is not my first language. Anyway, we had two puzzles out and they were so surprised i could differentiate the positions the pieces needed to be in without context. I had to tell them that the pattern otherwise won’t make sense,
I have the same thing as Markus that colours are fine unless you put several of the same colours next to each other and call them different. This is why the deer one is super hard,
The two puzzles that were described:
#humans are space oddities#humans are space orcs#humans are deathworlders#humans in space#humans are space capybaras#humans are weird#puzzle#jigsaw#humans are insane
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Quiet Realisations (i)
Pairing - Jason Todd X (F) Reader (Friends to Lovers)
Words - 2.6k
Warnings - Fluff - Angst - Forehead Kisses - Platonic Affection - Jason Cries - Comfort - Domestic!Jason - Reader plays with Jason’s hair - Swearing.
Notes - I’m trapped in a glass case of emotion. This is going to be a series because I have so many different scenes planned out for the Friends to Lovers trope. Plus I wanted to try and write something that would challenge me a little, personally, I don’t think fluff is my strong point. Hope you enjoy!! 💕
PART TWO // MASTERLIST
**
‘There's something in your throat that wants to get out and you won’t let it.’
**
You swear it’s not a big deal.
There’s a lump lodging itself in the back of your throat and you find that no matter how hard you try, you can’t quite swallow it down. Fingers shaking like you’re holding onto something heavy, something so scorching hot that you’re convinced it’s going to burn a hole straight through the palm of your hand.
Part of you wants to drop it, nudge it under the sofa and forget about it, pretend it isn’t there–almost like kicking a rouge ice cube under the fridge in the kitchen. But you can’t forget it, can’t swallow the lump from your throat or clip a leash around that endless softness stirring in the pit of your stomach.
It’s not a big deal.
You’ve been close friends for a while now, you know in the back of your head that this is the next logical step forwards.
But god fucking help you, it feels like you’re offering up your soul on a plate.
**
He’s been here since before dawn.
The latch on your window remains slightly ajar. You find that something in the back of your head protests when you try to close it, digs its heels into the ground and refuses point blank to budge, even though you know that if you were to close it, he would still find his way in.
Something about letting him know that he’s always welcome. That if you close it, it sends him a certain message.
You’ve long since grown accustomed to the quiet click of your window as it opens. Memorised the almost silent pattern of footsteps as someone pads through your living room towards the bathroom. It used to fill you with dread, have you flaring awake neck deep in fight or flight and scrambling for your phone, a weapon, something to offer protection.
But recently, you’ve found that subconsciously your brain no longer registers the noise as a threat.
Still, you always make an effort to wake up, to check for injuries, to make sure he’s okay.
More than once he’s come tumbling through your window gasping for breath, weak, barely conscious and bleeding.
You remember the first few times that happened, the utter panic, the absolute shot of adrenaline punching fiercely through your ribs when you wake to the sound of his body hitting the floor like a complete deadweight.
After the first time, you started stashing first aid kits throughout the apartment. Sometimes you find yourself reaching for the one next to your bed in your sleep, would wake up with the kit clenched tight between your fingers like a lifeline.
Thankfully, this time he’s fine, and you were awake for a mere few minutes before he told you to go back to sleep with that small, tired smile you love so much.
You’ll never admit it.
Not to god, not under torture, not even to your own reflection in the mirror.
But you didn’t sleep until you heard him settle on your sofa and go quiet. You’ve always been more content with the knowledge that he was safe and comfortable than losing a few minutes of extra sleep.
Jason would never admit it either, but he knows that you stay awake and wait for him to drift off. Has known for months that on those nights where he comes to you, you lie in your bed and listen out for him until you’re convinced he’s okay.
You care in quiet ways.
Like stashing first aid kits in your apartment, leaving the latch on the window un-done, and waiting, soft and tired, for him to fall asleep first.
**
You pad into the living room quietly.
Beelining for the kitchen you smother a yawn into your fist and chance a split second glance to the lump on your sofa. There’s an involuntary quirk of your lips when your eyes settle on him, gaze cataloguing the lazy sprawl of his limbs and the way his hair peeks out at odd angles from underneath the blanket.
Grabbing the sight with both hands you tuck it away, ease it warm and gentle between the smooth curve of your ribs. You exhale—maybe in relief at the sight of him, safe and alive and uninjured for once.
Or maybe, you exhale because looking at him, curled up under your blanket–in your home–is making you a little dizzy.
You breathe oxygen back into your lungs quietly and almost miss the slight change in his breathing. For one horrible moment you think you may have woken him. Jason has always been sensitive to people’s eyes on him, even when he’s sleeping.
You wonder sometimes, if he ever truly gets to rest.
Grabbing something to eat you wander back, and pull up short when you feel his gaze on you. There’s a strange look on his face you don’t see often, a flicker of something opening, it’s almost like looking at your window in the early hours of the morning, cracked open at the bottom and letting the cold air sweep in.
“Hey.” You smile, voice soft with sleep.
A small smile tips up Jason’s mouth in return and you find that your goddamn traitorous heart skips a beat.
Plonking yourself down directly on Jason’s stomach you take a big bite of your cereal bar and turn your head to glance at him, “You’re not very comfortable.”
Shifting so he lays flat on his back Jason grunts and plucks the cereal bar straight out of your greedy fingers, “Good. I hope sitting on me brings you incredible pain.” Shovelling the rest of the bar into his mouth he throws the wrapper at the side of your head.
Rolling your eyes you sweep the wrapper onto the floor, “Real mature.”
Shuffling around you settle with your thighs bracketing Jason’s hips. Smothering another yawn into your hands you squint when a beam of early morning sunlight streaks through your curtains and into your eyes.
Resting on your knees you lean over Jason’s head to tug them closed. Curling your fingers into the rough fabric you wobble, slightly unbalanced before firm fingers skirt over your ribcage and hold you in place.
There’s a flutter of your pulse at the feel of Jason's warm hand cupping your side. His thumb strokes gently over the curved bones and part of you feels like you’re going to turn to liquid and slip straight through his fingers.
You swallow and your voice comes out thick, “Thanks.”
Jason tightens his grip, “No problem.”
Leaning back and settling into place once more you stare at Jason’s hair, the strands sticking out at various angles from where it’s been trapped under his helmet on patrol, then ruffled as he’s slept. Your fingers itch with the urge to comb through the messy strands, mouth pressing into a barely controlled line.
“Jay,” You start, and you feel his attention swing to you. Humming non-sequentially as an answer he waits patiently, eyes slipping shut. “Can I please, please, please sort your hair out. You look like you’ve been struck by lightning.”
One side of his mouth hooks up in a crooked grin, one eye opening and flicking upwards, “You think mine is bad? You should look at yours.”
“You first.”
He makes a noise in the back of his throat, almost like you’ve wounded him, but he nods non-the-less.
Reaching out tentatively, you brush through the bone white streak first, fingers catching in the tangles and tugging them loose. Using your free hand you cup Jason’s face, thumb resting along his strong jawline to keep his head still as your other hand slowly works through his hair.
Pulling at a particularly stubborn knot Jason hisses through his teeth.
“Be quiet,” You mumble, slightly distracted, focused. “M’almost done, two more minutes, okay?” You feel his eyebrow quirk up against the pads of your fingers and a stupid smile curves your lips. “Put that thing down or so help me.”
Jason laughs and you feel the vibrations through your thighs, “Y’don’t scare me.”
It’s involuntary. You do it without thinking. In the back of your head, you wonder if someone has gone in and switched off half of your brain, the part that controls critical thinking. It’s knee jerk, reflective in that strange way people can do things on autopilot.
You pull his hair.
And witness something incredible.
Jason chokes back a groan, the sound trapped and desperate behind his teeth. His pupils blow wide, pretty colour swallowed by something heated, something you’ve never been before. Your breath comes out short, you feel almost giddy at his reaction, like you’re on top of the goddamn world.
Going to open his mouth you move your thumb from his jaw and press it against his plush lips, “Shush, I warned you. Now let me finish.”
Without missing a beat Jason bites your thumb, teeth sinking in hard enough to leave a perfect indent behind. His eyes are almost glittering and you grab his jaw between your thumb and forefinger.
“Todd,” You growl, squeezing tightly enough to get your message across. “Stop being a child.”
Holding him in place you comb your fingers through his hair one last time, satisfied as your fingers run through without catching on any tangles. Tugging at the white streak you twist the strands around your finger until it falls in a perfect little curl.
“There,” You declare, letting him go and leaning back. “Pretty as a picture.”
**
Standing side by side in the kitchen you and Jason work together to clean and dry the dishes. Looking over at him out of the corner of your eye you can’t help but think that domesticity suits him.
Sure, you’ve seen him decked out in his full Red Hood gear, kevlar plates, holsters filled with guns and a scary amount of knives tucked in his combat boots. You’ve seen him tall and broad shouldered and dangerous. But there’s something soft, something aching like a day old bruise at the sight of him in sweatpants and a hoodie helping you wash the dishes.
He suits being soft.
Jason fits into your space like a perfect puzzle piece, slots into the gap you never noticed was missing. He tucks his various angles into your home without a scratch and scathingly, you realise he’s managed to fold himself up small and quiet beside your heart.
Forearm deep in hot soapy water your eye catches his sleeve slipping.
Dropping the cloth from your hands you lean over and push his sleeve back into place, making sure to fold the elastic over his elbow so it doesn’t slip down again. A quick, pleased hum rumbles through your chest and you go back to drying the dishes again without a word.
“Thanks.” Jason mumbles.
There's something different in his voice but you can’t pinpoint what it is, his words are a little thicker than normal, his accent slightly more noticeable. You realise then, that he’s stopped what he’s doing. Goosebumps prickle over his skin and you think he’s cold, think that the slight breeze from the unlatched window in your living room is making him chilly.
A few weeks ago, whilst you were on your way home from work, you stopped to get something, something that at the time didn’t seem like such a big deal. It’s a practical gift, it’s nothing massively important or sentimental.
But it means something.
“Oh, no problem.” You answer, grabbing the next dish from the pile. “What time are you heading out?”
“Trying to get rid of me?” Jason grins, but you see the quick flash of uncertainty across his face. You find yourself wanting to soothe it as quickly as possible.
“Nah, you’re welcome to stay as long as you want.” Putting away the dried dishes and cutlery you press your hip into the counter. “Jus’ curious that's all. Do I have enough time to grab a shower?”
“Yeah.”
Suddenly leaning forwards Jason reaches out, and tenderly tucks a flyway strand of hair behind your ear. His hand, warm from the water lingers by your face, in a moment of weakness he cups your cheek and smooths his thumb across the skin under your eye.
“M’sorry for waking you up.” He whispers and you shake your head.
“You’ve nothing to apologise for, Jason.” There’s a firmness to your voice that doesn’t come out often. “I don’t mind one bit. I’d rather you come here than anywhere else.” Grabbing his wrist, you press your fingers against his pulse point, feeling the quick thud thud thud of his heartbeat. “I mean it, you don’t ever have to be sorry about coming here.”
Jason nods, and you watch as he swallows before letting his hand drop away.
Silently, you mourn the loss of his warmth.
**
Dressed in his Red Hood gear minus the helmet Jason waits by the window.
The latch remains undone, and you feel the chill of Gotham sweep through the apartment as soon as you open your bedroom door. Clenched tight in your hand is the thing you stopped for weeks ago. It’s sat in your bedside table for almost a week straight and every time you’ve thought about it you’ve tried to say it's not a big deal.
But it is a big deal.
Part of you wants to swallow it, maybe throw it away and forget you ever went out of your way to get it. But that other part, the soft part that brushes up against that quiet folded person beside your heart, protests the very thought of throwing it away.
Coming to a stop in front of him you fight to find your voice, “I’ve got something for you.” You start, and your voice shakes. “You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to, okay?”
Jason does a funny thing then, he reaches for you, then yanks himself back.
“Okay.”
Unfurling your fist, you grip the object between your trembling fingers and hold it out.
A key for your apartment.
Jason studies your face intently and you notice that his hands are shaking slightly.
“Thought it would be easier for you than climbing through my window. M’not exactly on the ground floor.” You know your voice sounds unsure, a note of nervousness settling heavy like a stone on your tongue. “You don’t have to take it, okay? I just–”
Your words trail off. It feels like you’re prying open your ribs.
“I just want you to know that you can come here whenever you want, for however long you want.” You open your mouth to speak again but your throat closes up, you think you’re on the verge of crying. “This can–”
Jason looks into your eyes, his face is serious but his dark lashes are wet.
You swallow, “This can be your home too.”
He takes the key from your fingers and folds it tight into his fist, like he never wants to let it go. There’s a split second where everything is silent, it’s as if someone sucked the air from the room and left you in freefall. The next Jason is saying your name, his voice wet and shaking.
“I don’t–”
“It’s okay.” You smile softly when his voice breaks. “Hey. It’s okay, I promise.”
Stepping forwards you reach out with both hands and take his face between your palms. His skin is warm and you fight back the tears building along your lashes when Jason closes his eyes, and lets his tears spill down his cheeks and over your fingers.
“Oh sweetheart,” You breathe, “It’s okay.”
Thumbing them away you tip his head down and press a tender kiss to his forehead.
It’s not a big deal.
But it is.
**
#jason todd x reader#red hood x reader#jason todd fanfiction#red hood fanfiction#dc fanfiction#dc fanfic#dcu fanfic#dcu fanfiction#jason todd friends to lovers#jason todd series#ella writes
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🜸
𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒
𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 🎸 Virgin!Eddie Munson x Fem!reader
𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 🎸 You play at the Hideout with your band, Stake For My Valentine, every night - you’re considered the metal queen of the bar and your band are the rulers of the roost, famously loved by the Hideout’s local drunks. However, when a band named Corroded Coffin land their first gig there the sparse crowd warm quickly to the unique and awkward charm of the leading metal head, Eddie Munson.
However, you don’t warm to him so easily - in fact, you don’t warm to him at all. Eddie, on the other hand, worships the ground you walk on and doesn’t hesitate to make it known and leads to a cold rejection from you.
Band rivalry occurs - you vs. Eddie, Stake For My Valentine vs Corroded Coffin.
You hate each other… but one night everything changes when a plan is created and executed by yours and Eddie’s bandmates with the intention of bring you two together and harmony between your bands.
𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒊-𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒍𝒐𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈!
𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 🎸 bad language, angst, mention and consumption of drugs, mention and consumption of alcohol, some perv!eddie, blood, mention of blood, sexual innuendos, Eddie wearing eyeliner bcuz damn😍, some typical bar fight drunkard violence and SMUT so you must be 18+ to read this mini series‼️
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 🎸 10.4K words 🫢
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 🎸 bad language, mention of and consumption of alcohol, mention of drugs, mention of smut, Eddie being a perv teehee and finally some smut between Eddie and reader guys (they kinda give exhibitionist vibes in this part) 👀🤭🤯
𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 - 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠!
𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲, 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝! <𝟑
⇜ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞
𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲 • 𝟐𝟖𝐭𝐡 𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 • 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟓
Daggers, pins, needles - the painful sensation of their sharp, pointed edges is exactly what you feel right now.
Small stabbing and repeated pokes is what wakes you up from your deep and dreamless slumber.
Your nose twitches at an unfamiliar smell. The smell of your favorite rose scented perfume mixed with the polish that you use to clean your electric guitar is absent from your nostrils. What you could smell was an overwhelming odour of sweat and dirty laundry. Your eyes flicker open and for a few seconds your vision is blurry, blinded by the light shining through a window.
Rocket curtains?
This isn’t my room.
Where am I?
What happened last night?
Your eyes continue to wander the room. Drum sticks and manuscript papers are scattered around and there is a ridiculous amount of drum kit paraphernalia on the walls, on top of the closet, on a desk. Piles of clothes were spread across the black carpeted floor… that explains the smell.
‘Löded Diper’ is messily written in black paint on a mirror that is hung up on the wall opposite the bed you’re laying in. You also recognise the rocket patterned wallpaper and realise that there is only one person that this room could belong to.
You groan at the realisation that you’re in the armpit that is Rodrick’s bedroom… again.
A loud snore takes you aback and you abruptly turn to face the noise.
Rodrick. His mouth is hung open, bottom lip drooping down to the slide closest to his pillow and his head is leaning backwards slightly, emphasising his Adam’s apple.
You quickly lift up the duvet and let out a dramatic, relieved sigh because - whew, thank god I’m not naked. But you’re only wearing an oversized black shirt that you do not recognise and definitely does not belong to you, and your underwear. The shirt has ‘Löded Diper’ roughly written on it, Rodrick’s band name, with what looks like white chalk that Rodrick probably took from the dart scoreboard beside the bar downstairs.
“Whuh a-re - you doooing?” You hear Rodrick mumble into his pillow, he yawns immediately after and opens his eyes once before scrunching them shut again because he hasn’t quite adjusted to the light just yet.
“What am I wearing?” You ask bluntly, pushing the duvet off of your top half completely.
Rodrick’s eyes blink open, still strained, they wander down your face, to your neck and then to your chest, “The hottest shirt in Hawkins,” A smug smile tugs at his lips while he speaks in a morning grumble.
You shoot him a piercing glare.
“What?” He mumbles, closing his eyes and nuzzling his face back into his pillow.
“I think I’d remember if I was wearing this piece of crap last night,” you state with sarcasm, knowing that your criticism of his handmade band merchandise would wake him up in an instant.
He shoots you a playful glare now, though it is half as effective as yours because one of his eyes is hidden into his pillow, “Someone woke up on the wrong side of bed this mornin-.”
“Afternoon,” you cross your arms, nodding at the alarm clock on his bedside table.
His slants his neck upwards, revealing his other eye and some small stains on his pillow from the smudged remnants of his eyeliner. He takes a sheepish glance at the same alarm clock, “Afternoon,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes.
You cross your arms, raising your brows while looking down on him, “How did I get here? How did this-,” you pinch some of the fabric of the shirt between your fingers, “get on me? And where are my clothes?”
Rodrick audaciously responds with a ballsy and tired grin. He takes another look at his shirt that you donned, “I can’t believe you’ve reached your age and don’t know how a shirt works, Vamp. ‘S pretty easy, you lift your arms and put them through the two holes on the side, then you put your head through the bigger hol-.”
“Say one more word, Rodrick - I double fuckin’ dare you,” you state sassily, leaning yourself downward and over his top half, your face is aligned with his.
His eyes gleam up at you, “So you don’t want to know what happened last night?” He bites his lips together.
You grunt, rolling your eyes at his question, “I do, but I want a clear explanation - cut the fuckin’ riddles and avoiding my questions with lousy comebacks. What - happened - after - my - gig?”
“You really wanna know?” He asks, amused, but with an undertone of wariness that makes you even more intrigued… and your brows to sweat because- what the hell did I do?
You gulp, “Y-yes.”
Rodrick brings a hand up to his forehead, pinching his skin between his fingers while in deep thought. He bites his lips together to hold in a laugh before taking a deep breath and revealing his tired face to you, “Let’s just say that it was - bad for you, good for the Battle of The Bands competition.” You glare at him. “Okay, okay. You kinda jumped off of the stage after your gig, I got you a couple‘a drinks and you spent the entire evening telling everyone how you ‘need’ Eddie Munson.”
You look at him questioningly, “What?”
Rodrick chuckles nervously. You tilt your head to the side in response to him. “You got on the bar and declared your title of ‘Queen Vamp of the Hideout’ to everyone. Everything was ‘bullshit’, ‘bullshit’, ‘bullshit’. Corroded Coffin - ‘bullshit’, Eddie Munson - ‘bullshit’. You called your fans assholes if they even think about going to Corroded Coffin’s gig tonight and then a minute later you just broke down - ‘I need Eddie Munson’ - ‘I need him’!” Rodrick mimics your voice.
You grind your teeth together while also furrowing you’re brows, desperately trying to recall any of what Rodrick had just told you, but all you could remember was swinging your Pink Special over your shoulder, hugging a few of your fans, stumbling towards the booth that Rodrick was sat in and then… blank.
“I don’t remember any of that.” He raises his brows at you while you ramble passionately. He has an amused expression on his face that makes you stop and question your entire existence. You bring your hands to your face and try to cover every one of your features while you writhe with embarrassment. There’s a few moments of silence before you bring your fingers down, uncovering your eyes, “What happened after that?”
Rodrick continues to stare at you with a questioning look in his dark under-circled eyes, “Er - well - they looked pretty shocked - and then they sorta-,” he scratches his forehead, “laughed.”
Your face falls with astonishment, “They - laughed - at me?” You can’t believe it. To hear that the dedicated followers of your music, people that had been so loyal to you since the very first step you took on the stage downstairs, had betrayed you - it hurt like stabs to the back.
“Pfft, not like that, Vamp - it’s just - I think they were shocked because you’re always so cool around them, y’know?” He reasons with you in an unusually high pitched voice, “If anything I think they appreciated seeing you let your guard down for once.”
You shake your head with a sigh, bringing a hand to your forehead and rubbing at your skin with force, “This is all your fault - now Corroded Coffin really are just gonna get the Halloween gig without any scheme or competition because I called all my fans assholes!”
“Er - I’m not the one that went batshit last night, Vamp - that was all you.”
Your glare at Rodrick gets harder and harsher, “Oh yeah? How much drink did you give me?”
“I can’t remember - quite a lot, but you seemed sorta pissed off about something so I thought that it might… help.”
“Help? Help me what? Make a damn fool of myself?” You scoff, chuckling sarcastically.
“No, no - I thought it might - I dunno - calm you down or - unleash - you looked so tense after the gig - so I let you drink? So what? We smoke weed at every soundcheck so what’s the big deal?”
“You think shoving a swimming pool’s worth of vodka down my throat until I black out is the answer to all my problems, huh?” You spit with attitude while he stares back at you with big eyes because he’d never seen you this angry. Yes, he’d pissed you off before, but you often brushed him off or sent him a playful glare because nothing he’d done previously had damaged your reputation or caused you to lose control like he had let happen last night.
“You wouldn’t even talk to me,” he mutters lowly with frustration clear in his voice.
“Boo-fuckin’-hoo, Rodrick - what has that got anything to do with you?”
Rodrick shrugs, seemingly unable to speak for himself or his lack of action last night to save you from public humiliation. “It worked, didn’t it?” he mutters under his breath, shrugging after and pursing his lips as if you meant nothing to him.
Your mouth falls open at his words, the selfishness of them, “So you actually think that - what? Just because you’re fucking me you have a free pass to all my thoughts and feelings? You have an automatic right to see everything going on in my head? I’m fine, Rodrick - see? You could’ve just asked.”
“You clearly weren’t fine last night, Vamp,” Rodrick states with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but his stare on you gets more intense with each word.
You stare back at him, matching his intensity, “Welllllll, if you were so worried about me, what exactly did you do to stop any of this from happening?”
A few seconds of silence pass while you both glare at each other harshly, “I figured that if anyone should be helping you, it should be your other boyfriend, Eddie - y’know, since you need him so much.”
You struggle to hold in the groan that was aching to leave your mouth. Instead, you bring your hands up to your face, your fingers pressing just slightly into your eyes to relieve the urge to punch him, “You’re not my boyfriend, Rodrick - and Eddie sure as hell isn’t my boyfriend either,” your hands drop down to your lap with a pillowy thud, “I hate him.”
“That’s not what you were saying last night,” Rodrick responds with doubt and sarcasm towards you.
You roll your eyes while letting out a frustrated exhale before opening your mouth to defend yourself, but the sound of a cymbal crashing downstairs interrupts you.
The sound is close to deafening and lasts for five seconds before you are met with silence, which you take as an opportunity to try getting your words, but again, you are silenced by a loud drum roll.
“What’s going on?!” You do your best to shout over the noise.
Rodrick shrugs before shouting lazily, “I dunno - practicing probably!”
You grunt loudly before abruptly jumping off of the bed. You spot your clothes from last night laid messily on a random chair opposite the bed and grab them, followed by leaving Rodrick’s room with heavy stomping sounds each time your bare feet collide with the floor.
“Where are you going, V? We need to talk!” Rodrick calls after you, desperation clear in his voice.
“Later!” You shout back nonchalantly before soldiering on through your mission to put a stop to Corroded Coffin’s band practice, completely disregarding the fact that the shirt you’re wearing barely covers your underwear.
You mutter angrily under your breath as you sprint down the stairs, missing a few steps on your way which makes you slam into the wall a few times, but the frustration completely overrides the pain that you feel, especially after learning about what had apparently happened last night.
Maybe I do need the competition… but I certainly never intended to tell anybody, let alone an entire bar of people who worship me and my music, people who I have to keep up a reputation for… I’m supposed to be their queen of metal and I let them all down last night, and it all started when Eddie Munson and his band of nobodies decided to wander into the Hideout on a random, cold Friday night.
I hate him.
I hate him.
I hate hi-
Eddie’s voice is clear once you reach the door leading to the bar at the bottom of the staircase so you hastily decide to hide behind it and listen.
“Let’s start from the chorus,” Gareth suggests.
“Sure thing!” Eddie chirps eagerly in response, his enthusiasm briefly reminding you of when you first formed Stake For My Valentine.
You peek between the door and doorframe, seeing Eddie excitedly fiddling with some wires and his guitar. His tongue is tensed and gently rested on his bottom lip and his eyes are extremely focused, zeroed in on his microphone - he looks kinda sweet, you think, but that thought is quickly shaken away with a small shake of your head.
“You ready, Eddie?” Jeff asks.
“Yup, ready - ready,” Eddie nods for a few seconds before throwing his head forward and strumming an angelic sounding E major chord, which you assume is a signal for Gareth because he starts to count by hitting his drum sticks together before hitting a rhythm on the snare and crashing both sticks onto the cymbals. Eddie throws his head back up, making his long hair flow elegantly in the air and his bangs to fall over his forehead and eyes messily, “I fuckin’ hate that bitch!”
Your face falls and your jaw drops as he sings into the microphone, holding it gently between both his hands.
“Cause she takes and she takes - she won’t give in - and they love and they love but - I - I-,” the lyrics are sung by Eddie in a sort of slurred and smooth way, rolling off of his tongue almost seductively… almost. He shakes his head as he plucks the wrong string, “This is so - stupid - I can’t do it. She’ll kill me if she hears this tonight, can we just scratch it from the setlist completely?”
What makes him so sure that I’ll be at his gig tonight?
Gareth let’s his hands fall with the drumsticks still grasping them in defeat, the tips of the sticks hit the snare and ride cymbal on their way down, “‘He’s just a loser with a guitar’… do you really think that that’s not about you?”
Eddie shakes his head, his face scrunching up in confusion, “I know, I know it is-,” he turns himself around to face away from you to be face to face with the rest of his band.
“And she didn’t give a shit that you heard her lyrics about you,” Gareth argues.
Eddie lifts the hand that had been wrapped around the neck of his guitar and raises his pointy finger by his face, “But it was Rodrick who read them out for everyone to hear, not Vamp.”
“So what?” Gareth asks with furrowed brows and a shrug of his shoulders.
Eddie mirrors Gareth’s actions by shrugging his shoulders too, “I dunno, man-.”
Gareth rolls his eyes at the conflict that Eddie was fighting in his head about whether or not to add the song he’d written about you to Corroded Coffin’s setlist to play in front of an entire audience to hear, “Oh c’mon, Eddie - you have to agree that she needs to be taken down a peg or twenty-five… she walks all over you like you’re a dirty rug or somethin’ and you’ve gotta do something about it.”
You squint your eyes at Gareth through the crack that you’ve been peeking through and quietly scoff at his harsh words.
Eddie stays silent, he’s clearly still fighting himself, judging by his fidgeting, but you still can’t see his face.
“I say we take a vote,” Gareth suggests, now looking between Jeff and Travis, who look just as bewildered as you imagine Eddie is looking right now. They eventually nod, apart from Eddie, who stays frozen on the spot, “Okay, hands up for Bitch in Boots and Fishnets to not be played at the show tonight,” Gareth speaks, keeping his hands firmly glued to his lap.
Eddie thrusts his arm up in the air enthusiastically, but the rest of his body is slouched in defeat.
Jeff and Travis exchange nervous looks at each other, like they are debating through eye contact, or urging the other to make the first move.
Jeff slowly raises his hand, only for Gareth to shoot him a glare, “Sorry, G. I’m all for knocking Vamp down a peg, but this just feels a little too harsh.”
Gareth avoids eye contact with Jeff, “Whatever, dude.”
“Sorry,” Jeff apologises again in a mumble, lowering his head for a moment of thought before lifting it again, “I just have a feeling that it’ll cause more harm than good when I only want for all members of Corroded Coffin and Stake For My Valentine to get along - surely there’s another way to get Vamp on board with us without adding fuel to the fire.”
Eddie slides his hand behind his neck, scratching it, which causes his head to turn so that you can momentarily see his face. He looks entirely skeptical and so does Gareth, who chooses to completely ignore Jeff’s advice.
“We’ve tried to be nice - Eddie has tried to be nice… I think it’s time to give her a taste of her own medicine - see how she likes being messed with… it’ll also give us an advantage in this Battle of The Bands thing,” Gareth states matter of factly with a hint of excitement in his voice before sighing, then nodding, “Those in favor of playing Bitch in Boots and Fishnets tonight, raise a hand,” Gareth has his arm raised while he speaks, and, like a puppy, Travis follows and lifts his arm too. Gareth then looks between Jeff and Eddie, hoping that they’d changed their minds, only for them to keep their hands at their sides.
Eddie looks entirely relieved, his body visibly relaxes. “I guess we’re even then, which is probably for the best because the song isn’t even finished yet and - I - I don’t think I can do it… especially if Vamp is here tonight,” he rambles, avoiding eye contact with all of his band-mates and staring down at his guitar instead.
A dumbfounded Gareth blinks at Eddie, “Bullshit. We all saw your lyric book this morning - we only saw the title but you always fold the pages of songs that are finished.”
Eddie brings a hand to his face, caressing his cheekbones with his thumb and index finger, “I know I know I know - Jesus H. Christ - I was writing all night and I must’ve just mistakenly left it out… and yeah - I was - angry - yesterday-.”
“You don’t say,” Gareth interjects.
“I was angry-,” Eddie repeats, looking at Gareth over his hand that stretched across his face above his nose, “after finding out that Vamp had written shitty things about me, and maybe I started writing it because I wanted to get back at her for that and for practically fucking Rodrick in my face, but then I - I started-bringing-other-sorta-resurfaced-feelings-into-it-that-I-don’t-want-her-knowing-about, m’kay?” Eddie stares intensely between the three boys stood with him, he spoke the words so fast that they practically had no gap between them and you could hardly pick up on what he had said.
Whatever Eddie had said, Jeff, Gareth and Travis’ mouths had fallen agape in response.
“You still- after the way that she’s treated you in the last week?” Gareth asks in disbelief with a hushed voice so that all you can hear are mumbles.
Eddie lifts his shoulders up, making his neck completely disappear, “I know I shouldn’t, but I guess crushes as big as the one I had on her don’t just go away - even after she calls you a loser,” he mutters loud enough for his friends to hear, but not you.
All of his friends are silent around Eddie, digesting more incoherent words from where you are hidden.
Jeff, Gareth and Travis exchange looks between each other, it’s hard to tell what they are thinking, but it visibly puts Eddie on edge, because he shakes his head and nervous laughter leaves his lips.
Your hand starts to ache from holding your body weight up against the door, your eyes are hurting from having to squint so hard to catch a glimpse of the band on the other side of the door and, quite frankly, you are getting bored of not being able to hear what they are talking about… you can only guess that they are talking about Rodrick because they don’t know that you’re only a few metres away, let alone that you’re in the building.
“We’re not, I repeat, we’re not playing my song tonight and nothing - nothing you do or say will change my mind about it,” Eddie, very seriously declares, his voice returning to the volume it had been before he started whispering, enabling you to hear.
You take a deep breath, straighten your back and grip onto the door handle before putting on your best smirk.
The latch of the door clicks as you press downward onto the handle and swiftly open the creaky door, immediately gaining the attention of all four of the Corroded Coffin boys. You fight the urge not to hysterically laugh because all of their faces are priceless at your very sudden, very unexpected reveal.
You walk in, still smugly smirking with your hand raised and your eyes honed in on Eddie, whose jaw has dropped so much that, if he wasn’t careful, could catch a bunch of flies. His chocolaty brown eyes are almost as wide as his mouth is open and, just like his entire body that is facing you now, they are completely focused on you.
You’re so focused on him that you notice the way his pupils dilate when he breaks eye contact and trail down to your red panties that peek a little from underneath Rodrick’s shirt while you walk towards him. Eddie’s gaze is so intense, almost predatory, that you can’t help but feel vulnerable under it, especially as his eyes trail further down to your bare thighs - you’d never been so scrutinised before, it causes goosebumps to form all over you and you feel your breath catch in your throat.
Not even Rodrick has looked at you the way Eddie is looking at you now - and Rodrick has seen you naked… but something tells you that you wouldn’t have been as affected anyway if it had been Rodrick stood in Eddie’s place right now.
It takes you a few moments to regain your composure, though your legs still feel like jelly because he continues to ravenously gaze at you like you’re his last meal.
It’s not until you clear your throat that he seems to snap out of the trance he’s under, his eyes travel back up your body and land on the ‘Löded Diper’ logo written across your chest - you notice him exhale through his nose at the sight of it.
The excitement in his eyes leaves in the moment that he realises exactly where you’d been the entire night… and doing god knows what with Rodrick. He pictures all of the positions that he could only dream of having you in and feels his hands start to get so clammy with sweat that he wipes his palms aggressively on the thighs of his black ripped jeans.
You keep your hand raised as you come to a stop about a metre away from the raised platform that all four of the Corroded Coffin boys are stood on. The smug smirk is still evident on your lips, “Doesn’t my vote count? Y’know, since the song is about me.”
Eddie freezes, his hands glued to his thighs. The only part of him that moves are his eyes, which look down at you through his long and dark lashes, “N-no?” He stutters questioningly, it’s as if he can’t believe that you’re here, like you’re a ghost or a figment of his imagination. He suddenly stands up straight, wipes his forehead with his wrist and undoes his blue denim jacket, which you can tell has seen better days, and chucks it to the side.
You drag your eyes away from his, looking him up and down before catching a glimpse of the ‘Black Sabbath’ t-shirt he had been hiding under the jacket.
Fine - maybe he really was the boy that approached me at the lockers back in 7th grade… just with way more hair and a lot taller. Maybe he was being nice that day and maybe he was really just looking for a friend and happened to see the magazine cut out of Black Sabbath in my locker… but so what? It doesn’t mean that I have an obligation to like him now.
We’ve changed.
If we couldn’t see eye to eye then, then we most definitely cannot see eye to eye now… right? Right. I mean, for the love of Ozzy Osbourne, we’ve written songs about how much we hate each other… we can’t undo that… but I might as well hear it and maybe… just maybe - really listen to his words… perhaps I could - I dunno - take on board a few of ‘em… if he makes any good points that is.
You pout, blinking up at him, trying to ignore the fact that he’s towering over you by a foot because of the platform he’s stood on and you are face to face with his crotch. You notice the slight tent in his jeans by the fly - lucky me, you think sarcastically, but you can’t help but look for a second longer than you should because - hey, it’s right there. “That’s such a shame, Munson - I was so hoping to hear it tonight,” the hand that you had raised drops with a thud to your side and you stare up into his eyes again.
Eddie squints his very round eyes at you, his head tilting slightly in confusion while the other boys also exchange perplexed looks behind him… they all can’t seem to tell if you are being nice, or whether you’re tricking them into thinking you are.
“R-really?” Eddie stutters doubtfully, though there is still hope evident in his voice.
A small, genuine giggle leaves your lips, “Really.”
“R-right.” Eddie’s brows furrow while he continues to look at you with a mix of horror and confusion, “How long were you listening in on us exactly?”
“Oh - just the entire time,” you lie, well - half lie, but you aren’t going to tell him that you missed a tiny snippet of their discussion because of their whispering.
A staring contest between you and Eddie commences after that, you take a small step closer to him so that you’re just a foot away from him and he exhales shakily at your close proximity. You win very quickly because he shakes his head, scrunching up his nose and squinting his eyes shut, “I know what you’re doing.”
“What?” You ask, confused. Eddie continues to scrutinise you with his eyes, you tilt your head and furrow your brows at him, “What exactly do you think I’m doing?”
“I dunno, Vamp - but I have no doubt that you’ve probably got a little trick up your sleeve to try and humiliate me tonight - and I’m not gonna fall for it only to be shot down by you again.” Eddie’s voice exudes sarcasm and frustration and he has a strained smile on his lips while he speaks, his arms flail about everywhere until he stops suddenly and grips tightly onto his guitar with both his hands.
You start to feel warm with bubbling anger from being so confused, you try to mask it with self-defence, “That’s not true, I really want to hear what you have to say-.”
“Don’t make me laugh,” Eddie snorts, as do the boys behind him.
You place both your hands on your hips, your clothes still tucked between your left arm and your side, “Is it really that hard to believe?”
Eddie gulps, sheepishly looking you up and down before sternly and deeply staring into your eyes, “Yeah, it is actually.”
Your features harden just as his seem to soften when he realises how harsh he’d just sounded.
I can’t believe I even tried to give him a chance to impress me. “Oh yeah?” you retort with sarcasm.
Eddie hums while giving you one nod of his head.
You can feel adrenaline pumping through your veins now in response to his nonchalance towards you - he cares so little that I can’t even get one word out of him? “Well in that case…” you drop your skirt and t-shirt that you had been wearing last night, then you pick up your skirt and step into it one leg at a time before shimmying it all the way up your legs, letting out small grunts as you pull the garment over your hips, “Fuck your gig-,” you lift Rodrick’s shirt up and over your head, revealing your black lace bra underneath, chucking it onto the floor beside you, “fuck your song-,” your lips tug up into a side smirk at Eddie, who is not so discreetly staring at your bra-clad breasts with wide eyes. You pick up your shirt, very quickly realising that you had been wearing your favorite Ozzy Osbourne shirt last night, and close your eyes as you swiftly pull it over your face, “and fuck - you.” Eddie is still looking at you with blown out, lusting eyes even when your shirt is completely covering you - you ignore the warmth that you feel in the pit of your stomach, but you try to ignore it by chuckling it away… and insulting him on your way out of the Hideout… “Perv!”
“Get Rodrick down here - his vote counts!” You hear Gareth’s voice a few seconds after your exit before you proceed to walk home, “What? You can play it now if she’s not coming!”
⎈ 🎸⎈
You spend the rest of the day with conflicting thoughts about whether you should show your face at Corroded Coffin’s gig tonight.
One moment you’re laying on your back in your bed, muttering ‘fuck ‘em - fuck it - why should I go? I can’t go - I can’t face that asshole again’ to yourself, then a minute later you’ve rolled onto your stomach and are telling yourself that you ‘have to go - I have to be there just in case they do play his goddamn song - I can’t miss it - I’m not scared of Eddie Munson - I’m going.’
Then suddenly you find yourself stood outside of the Hideout in your trusty fishnets and boots at 11:55pm, staring at the building in anticipation. It’s the first time your heart is beating so fast because you have no idea what is to come, usually every time you walk into the bar it’s the same, like deja vu, your fans running to greet you, Rodrick shamelessly flirting with you, your band sat in your designated booth already with a drink in hand, the local man sitting at the bar drinking away after a long day at work and maybe even a bar fight between two men who’d had one drink too many.
You try to ignore the voice in your head telling you to ‘turn back and go home… it’s not too late to get outta this… what am I even doing here? They’re probably on their last song anyway’ You give in, turning around and doing exactly what your thoughts tell you to, you walk away.
“How about we end tonight’s gig with a new one?” You hear muffled cheers and ‘hell yeahs’ in response.
“How many times do I have to love you, baby? Touch the ground when you’re feeling down-,” you stop walking at the sound of Eddie’s muffled voice from inside the bar.
You recognise the tune of the first verse to be the first part of the supposed revenge song that Eddie had written for you… but didn’t he just sing - love - in what is supposed to be a hate song about me? You’re too curious to walk away any further. Instead, you resume your way towards the door leading into the Hideout.
“You walk around like you own this town” - huh, he’s not entirely wrong about that.
“Vamp, is that you?” You hear a familiar voice behind you, making you jump before looking over your shoulder, “What are you doing lurking out here in the rain?”
Alyssa…
You hadn’t even noticed the rain until she mentioned it, “Oh nothin’, just hangin’ around,” you say overly casually with a shrug of your shoulders, which Alyssa responds with an amused look and a giggle, “What?”
Alyssa looks at you with a playful, knowing look, “You’re here to see Rodrick, amiriiiggght?”
So she didn’t see your drunk commotion last night - she must’ve left early with Elektra.
You decide to play dumb because you don’t want her knowing that you’re actually here for Eddie. Your face contorts into one of over-the-top confusion, “What? Noooooo,” you giggle shyly.
“C’monnnn, Vamp - don’t think we didn’t see you cosying up with him in our booth last night,” she playfully nudges your shoulder and winks at you with her tongue cheekily sneaking past her teeth.
“Is that why you left early - because me and Rodrick were in the Vampire’s lair?” You ask, referring to the booth that you’d had many after-show discussions, weed and drinks in, and had given it a name because you, Alyssa, Elektra and Cherie used it so much.
Alyssa shakes her head, “We all just figured that you and Rodrick would want some - privacy - so we all-just-went-home - anyway-,” she tiptoes closer to you with excitement clear on her face, “Is it official now - you and Rodrick?” She whispers.
Fuck no! “Toootally,” you drag it out with a forced, swooning smile on your face. I can’t dig myself any deeper than this… you have to stop yourself from facepalming your forehead. “And what about you and Gareth?” You ask purely to change the subject, your tone overly normal as if you hadn’t been scowling at the pair whenever you caught them together.
Alyssa’s cheeks go red and she tries to hide it by looking down, her infamous cowboy hat helps hide her blushing, “We - er - we’re just frien- I mean - I totally hate him - fuck Corroded Coffin!” She states way too enthusiastically before her ears perk up like a dog towards the sound of Corroded Coffin playing inside, “Huh - I’ve not heard this one before! C’mon - let’s go let’s go!” She shakes your shoulders excitedly, guiding you with nudges towards the door and inside the bar.
You catch yourself grinning at Alyssa’s excitement because it is contagious, it always has been.
The first thing that catches your eye, to your surprise, is Eddie, whose face is scrunched up from singing so passionately. You don’t even notice the crowd of familiar faces dancing and singing in front of you, but you do notice Alyssa squeezing your shoulders - it’s the only thing that you do notice that isn’t Eddie related right now.
“Do you think of me as I’m thinking of you?”
A similar warmth that you felt before comes back at his words and you don’t expect it. Your mouth drops open as you focus on a stray strand of hair that has elegantly and messily fallen over his right eye and then a droplet of sweat that is running down his cheek.
“Have you lost your mind? ‘Cause I’ve lost mine.”
I sure feel like I have. You can’t help but think that you have lost your mind when thoughts of how pretty Eddie Munson looks when he’s singing about you, wielding his guitar with sweat all over him linger in your head.
“This is the most romantic song I’ve ever heard in my entire life!” Alyssa shouts in your ear with a massive grin on her face.
Just you wait until you hear the part where he screams about how much he hates me-
“She says that I’m a loser - I fuckin’ hate that bitch!”
There it is… right on cue.
Your eyes are wide as you continue to watch Eddie, but they are not wide with hate… more - in wonder at the way he sings his lyrics. Though they are words of hate, he delivers them in such a vulnerable and heartbroken way that causes you to be filled with admiration for him… especially after you’d deemed him to be a weak novice at most during his first gig here.
A genuine smile slowly starts to spread from your lips, to your rosy cheeks, to your bright eyes and to the lines between your brows when you realise that this is the most romantic thing that anybody has ever done for you… and of all people, it’s Eddie Munson who has swooned you into a frozen, wordless statue.
“‘Cause she takes and she takes - she won’t give in -,” Eddie’s eyelashes flutter as he sings. He looks so angelic that you don’t notice the stares from your fans who had witnessed the ruckus you’d caused last night, “And they love and they love but I don’t fit in!”
Eddie is completely focused on his guitar and the solo that he shreds from the instrument, like he’s making love to it… it’s intimate, watching his fingers pluck the strings like it’s just him and his guitar in the foggy room, you’re almost jealous (highlight on almost), but you’re the one he’s singing about so you guess it’s a win-win for both you and the guitar…
That is until you feel a tap on your shoulder that breaks your gaze from Corroded Coffin’s frontman. “Why is everybody glaring at you?!” Alyssa whisper-shouts in your ear.
You avoid looking at all of your glaring fans because you can already feel them on you, “I don’t know!” You lie… they’ll come around when they see me back on stage on Monday - it’s just a temporary glitch, you convince yourself, “- But it’s nothing I can’t handle, Al - trust me!”
“She says that I’m a loser - I fuckin’ hate that bitch - ‘cause she takes and she takes - she won’t give in - and they love and they love but I don’t fit in!”
You feel Alyssa squeeze your shoulder in response, her way of saying ‘I trust you’ through physical touch.
The sound of Eddie’s guitar sounds again, drawing you in like it’s calling for you. Eddie then moves closer to the microphone again, his pink and plump lips brushing up against the metal of it, breathing into it before starts to vocalise with the melody he is playing on his guitar. His voice and guitar harmonise together beautifully, especially inside the Hideout where it creates an echoey effect - it sounds like a siren calling to put a spell on everyone in the room… and it’s working.
Then Gareth’s drums then take over Eddie’s guitar and vocals, causing Alyssa to blurt out an excited scream, but you’re still longingly staring at Eddie with a dreamy smile plastered on your lips.
“And they love and they love but I don’t fit in - I’ve lost my mind - but-,” Eddie’s eyes open, not completely as his lids still are half covering his blown-out pupils, and they happen to land dead on you, “m-my - queen will be kind,” he stutters, but quickly gains control over his vocals when he further examines your face, the small smile on it… like you’re actually enjoying yourself… and your eyes… you’re looking at him the way he’s been dreaming for you to look at him for years… it fills him with so much confidence that he doesn’t dare tear his dark eyes away from you.
You ignore Alyssa’s desperate taps on your shoulder and her looming over your shoulder to try and grab your attention, which is showing no sign of budging away from Corroded Coffin’s frontman.
“I’ve lost my mind - I know my queen will be kind,” he doesn’t even blink away from you at the back of the small crowd before him, not even once. “My queen will be kind,” he slurs out the last verse with a smug smile on his face, like the cat who got the cream, and sweat continuously dripping down his face from the exhaustion of his entire set… it only makes you feel more turned on - infatuated, confused, horny - can I be all three of those things at once? I don’t know - I’ve never felt all three so intensely before.
“Why’re you looking at Eddie like that?!” You feel another tap on the shoulder from Alyssa. “Was it about you - the song?!” Yet another tap.
“Maybe it was - who cares?!” You respond, trying to sound as detached as your words, but your eyes still don’t leave Eddie’s while he starts to play the song’s gradual end.
Alyssa looms over your shoulder, no longer staring at you or the stage. Her taps on your shoulder falter, “And if you and Rodrick are official, why is he shoving his tongue down another girl’s throat?!” Her words certainly do grab your attention now, they make your blood run cold after it had been so warm, and cause your head to whip in the direction that Alyssa is looking.
And sure enough, Alyssa hadn’t mistaken Rodrick for somebody else. He is stood at the bar, pulling on another girl’s locks like his life depended on it, his leg tucked between her thighs and the kissing is so messy that you can even see saliva shining around their mouths from where you are.
Your nose twitches, your lips tremble and your entire body temperature is frozen to the point that it feels like a horrible burning sensation when you move even an inch.
I can’t believe him.
It’s not like you are, or ever had been in love with Rodrick - but you assumed that he had enough respect for you not to be doing what he is doing right now… in front of you, your fans, your friends, people that you love - and in the place that you love so dearly.
You become hyper sensitive and aware of your surroundings, unlike before, where you had been focused on none other than Eddie. You are met with glares upon glares while there’s mumbling and whispering all around you now that Corroded Coffin have stopped playing - you no longer feel welcome in a place you call home more than your actual home that you eat and sleep in.
Your heart is pounding twice as fast as when you were stood outside, and your eyes are threatening to spill tears.
This is not how I planned for tonight to go… sneak into the Hideout undetected, listen to Eddie’s song and leave just as undetected as I came… not get caught by Alyssa, develop a crush on Eddie, be detected, see Rodrick making out with another girl, cry on the dance floor.
You can no longer stall the tears, they start to fall in gallons upon gallons and you can’t do anything to hide them, no matter how much you try to wipe them all away with your wrist that is now covered with eyeliner and mascara.
As you furiously keep wiping your tears away, you unintentionally catch a glimpse of Eddie, who is looking back at you with an extremely concerned expression on his face. He’s no longer smiling sweetly, his eyes are no longer bright or full of want, no, need for you, but there’s still yearning in them that is still tempting you.
No, you shake your head, looking down. Tonight was important for him and I want my smiling face, enjoying his song, to be how he remembers tonight… and how his face lit up when he saw me to be how I remember tonight. You stare straight at the exit of the Hideout - I need to get out of here fast - and make a beeline for it, wiggling yourself out of Alyssa’s embrace and pushing past people, hearing them booing you and saying things like: ‘I can’t believe I ever was a fan - Corroded Coffin are where it’s at!’
When you reach the door you take a deep breath, preparing yourself for the bliss of fresh, cold air and silence.
It’s still raining outside, maybe even more heavily than before you set foot in the Hideout, but you don’t care. You face the sky, scrunching you’re eyes shut and let the rain fall onto your skin and drench your clothes. The loud sounds of rain droplets continuously falling around you and the sensation of water on your skin nearly makes you forget about what just happened.
That’s the second commotion you’ve caused in two nights, Vamp - I don’t know whether to congratulate you or pity you. You force out a laugh that comes out in small chokes.
The door to the Hideout opens and shuts, the creak that it makes is quieter than you expect, but the rain is just that loud.
“Vamp?” Eddie. You refuse to look at him directly, but you can make out his frame in the corner of your eye, “Vamp - hey,” he jogs towards you and stops when he’s stood right in front of you, you stare at his sneaker-clad feet.
“Hey, Eddie,” you pause before saying his name in a small voice that makes him visibly deflate, you suppose he was expecting a sassy response like ‘what the hell are you looking at, Munson?’, but you don’t give him that - you don’t give him anything.
Eddie roughly pulls his bandana off of his head, “If it’s about the song, ‘m sorry… but I didn’t think you’d be here after the whole ‘fuck you, fuck this, fuck that’ ordeal earlier,” he rambles, which makes you giggle through a few more tears.
You suck in all of your pride and drag your eyes from his sneakers to meet his own eyes, that are full of concern for you, “I’m - not upset because of t-the song,” you mumble softly, but loud enough for him to hear. Your eyes flicker between both of his eyes and you notice small droplets of water gathering on his eyelashes, “I - I loved it, Eddie.”
He blinks, “Y-you - did?”
A weak giggle leaves your lips, “I really - really did. I know - I’m shocked too.” You wipe your eyes again, but with your other wrist now, “You should go - back inside, Eddie - you’ll catch a cold - I’m fine,” you state, surprising concern for him showing in your voice.
“I’m not leaving you out here alone,” Eddie shakes his head firmly, his hair now clinging to his shoulders from how soaked its getting due to the rain, he’d stay outside and happily drown in the rain if he got to hear you say his name once more - it sounds angelic coming from your lips.
“But-.”
“No, I’m not going anywhere-,” he boldly states before his eyes soften under your gaze, “M-kay?”
You look up at him with half-lidded eyes… it’s kinda funny how the person who cares the most is the person who I’ve spent so much time hating. “Okay,” you whisper with a little, shy smile on your face.
Eddie’s lips tug up into a smug smile that you would’ve punched off if he hadn’t have written such a beautiful song for you, or cared for you more than anyone else you know. He slowly brings his bandana towards your face, cautiously dabbing and wiping away your smudged and runny make-up from your eyes. His tongue is peeking past his lips and his eyes are furrowed in pure concentration, but his hands are shaking from nerves - he’s never seen you this close-up before and he doesn’t know what to say, or think, so he decides to just enjoy this moment.
You examine each other’s features so closely that you become dizzy. Eddie brings his spare hand up to your shoulder, steadying you gently when he realises that you’re leaning closer - you forget that Rodrick even exists until you find yourself gazing at Eddie’s lips.
Fuck it - if he can move on that quickly then so can I.
“Did you mean them?” You find yourself asking timidly while he’s still carefully wiping your make-up away.
He pauses his small movements around your eyes to focus on your question, “Mean them - as innn? My totally metal moves on that stage tonight?” He jokes nervously, making his dimples stand out.
You giggle with a roll of your eyes before punching his chest gently with your fist, “N-no, dummy,” you cringe at yourself for being so soft, but you can’t help it because he’s being so soft and gentle with you. He’s chuckling at being called a ‘dummy’ by you, resuming cleaning your face with his bandana, which you take the opportunity to calm your nerves by deeply exhaling and closing your eyes, “I meant your words - about me,” your words come out so softly that for a moment you wonder if he has heard you, but him halting his movements again and hearing him taking a deep breath confirms to you that he has - you open your eyes.
I must look like a complete mess right now, you realise, with your hair soaked and your eyes heavy and dark with patches of eyeshadow that Eddie hadn’t wiped away yet… but he is looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.
His Adam’s apple bobs up and down before he nods shyly, his eyes wavering from yours for a brief second, “Y-yeah, every word.”
There’s a hint of fear and guilt in his eyes, but you can’t bring yourself to be angry at him for essentially calling you an egotistical ‘bitch’ right now when you are feeling so many other intense feelings that are urging you to just bite the bullet and kiss him… before you think too hard about it, you reach for his shoulders and quickly close the distance between you, capturing his plump pink lips with your own.
He falls backward slightly at your momentum and the way that you practically throw your body at his. He’s completely frozen against you with his eyes wide open while you eagerly move your lips on his… shit - did I just make a massive mista- to your surprise, the moment that you start to think about pulling away to apologise, he kisses you back.
His lips taste like the beer he probably downed before his show, and with every second that you kiss them, you’re hungry for more of him so you satisfy your need for him by sliding your hands from his shoulders to behind his neck for more skin to skin contact. You press your fingers into the back of his neck, which makes him grunt against you and the kiss becomes even more desperate.
His technique is kinda sloppy, literally, but you’re already so wet from the rain that a little more isn’t going to hurt.
As you slip your tongue into his mouth his hands dive for your soaked hair and pull, making you moan into the kiss and he takes the opportunity to explore your mouth with his tongue now.
Your nose bumps against his larger one as you fight for dominance, which isn’t hard because when you slide your hands into his damp curly hair he is putty in your arms. He falls backward slightly as you press him against the exterior wall of the front of the Hideout, making him hold onto you even tighter, pulling your entire body against him so that there is not a single gap between your bodies… you can feel his erection through his jeans, pressing against your stomach, which causes him to whine, and you to smirk into the kiss… already? I know I’m good but I didn’t know I was that good.
“Vamp-,” he mumbles dreamily, breathlessly before taking a millisecond to gather some more breath. “I- my pants-,” his face is completely pink, except for his cheeks which are cherry red, “it - it hurts.”
You pull away from the kiss for a brief moment, leaning your upper half back to look down at where your hips meet, “You mean your cock?” You whisper with an amused look on your face.
He looks down too at where you both are connected, nodding after, “Y-yeah, my - my cock.”
You bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from giggling, “Jeez, Eddie - we’ve been making out for three minutes tops.”
Eddie keeps his head low, sliding one of his hands down from your hair to your cheek, using his fingertips to drag along your skin, “I know I know, it’s not like I’ve been dreaming about this for years or anything like some freak.” He finally decides to look up at you, and as if he is checking that you are real, he swipes his thumb over your cheekbone, “Besides, it’s not like I’m a Casanova or anything. This-,” he gestures between the two of you with his other hand, “happens to me… never,” he admits.
“Never?” You ask in a hushed, high pitched voice, gazing at him so intensely while you wait for an answer.
You know that he knows what you’re asking exactly because his face gets even redder, embarrassed. He shakes his head, “Never.” His eyes try to read your facial expression in response to him revealing that he is, in fact, a virgin - he wonders if he has scared you away for a second, but you stay firmly in his arms, which is good enough of an answer for him.
The thought of nobody else having touched him actually turns you on even more… if he had told you a few days ago you might’ve called him ‘lame’ just to get a rise out of him, but it wouldn’t have been the truth - you admire him for waiting.
“Can I - touch you?” You ask cautiously, resting your hand on his shoulder while your other one stays tangled in his wet hair, “It’s totally okay if you don’t want me to.”
Eddie’s eyes widen, “Fuck - yes, of course I want you to touch me, Vamp - it’s just-,” he examines your surroundings, suspiciously staring at some drunk people who stagger out of the Hideout without noticing either of you just metres away from the door. “Out here?” He asks in a small voice, locking eyes with you again. His pupils are blown out with excitement, adrenaline and nerves that you can tell he’s trying to fight off… because the thought of being jacked off by you with the risk of getting caught is intriguing him - and making him even more hard, which he didn’t think could be possible considering his cock is already straining his jeans.
“You - think I’m being crazy right?” Your lips tug up to the side before you let out a small giggle.
Eddie giggles with you, “Crazy hot.”
You shake your head, giggling even more, “you dork.”
I can’t believe I’m flirting with Eddie Munson right now.
You can tell that everything you’re doing is turning him on even more, even calling him a dork, “D-do it - touch me, Vamp,” he whispers with a scrunched up face.
You hum in response, staring at him for a few seconds before capturing his lips into a second kiss that is so full of anticipation and heavy breathing. You slide your hand down the outfit that he had been wearing all day, over his Black Sabbath t-shirt and jeans - once your fingertips touch the small area of his belly that is peeking between the hem of his shirt and jeans his breath hitches.
“F-fuck - I - can’t believe - we’re doing this,” he admits breathlessly with a little chuckle into the kiss while your hand dares to go even lower.
Your hand gently cups his erection over his jeans, “Y-you - mean - out here?” You say between more kisses.
“Well - yeah - that too, but I meant - you and me,” he mumbles against your mouth dreamily while you give him a light squeeze, which makes him moan into your mouth, “We - hated - each other this - morning- ah!” He whines when you give him a harder squeeze to stop him from rambling desperately against your mouth.
You smile against his lips, thinking about how cute it is that he can’t keep his mouth shut, but he has to keep quiet if he doesn’t want any of the drunk staggerers coming out of the Hideout to notice the both of you together. “Shut - up and let me - help you,” you mumble into more kisses, to which he responds with a hum and a gyrate of his hips.
He keeps rolling his hips into yours while your hand keeps palming him, making himself whimper and hungry for you to actually stick your hand down his pants and touch him.
You fiddle with the hem of his jeans while you kiss messily, the rest of your arms all over each other, and just as you’re about to stick your hand down his pants you hear your name being called… but it’s not Eddie’s voice - it’s Rodrick’s.
Hearing his voice makes your blood bubble with anger again, and your heart to sink down to your feet upon realisation that another moment had been ruined for you tonight by Rodrick.
You push Eddie away, which makes him ricochet back off of the wall and towards you, but you’re already facing Rodrick with a scowl on your face, “Rodrick.”
His face looks heartbroken, disappointed, angry, but you don’t feel a thing or a morsel of regret for kissing Eddie, “One minute you guys hate the shit outta each other and now you’re gettin’ it on outside my home… the fuck have I just walked into, Vamp?”
You open your mouth to speak, but Alyssa appears behind Rodrick, looking between you and Eddie with confusion written all over her face, “I can explain, Al,” you tell her with a pleading look.
Rodrick let’s out a sarcastic chuckle, “So she gets an explanation but I don’t?” He points at Alyssa with a thumb over his shoulder and speaks in a tone of disbelief.
“You think you deserve one?” You ask, your voice laced with distrust. Rodrick raises a brow, trying his hardest to look confused. “I saw you in there, Rodrick - playing tonsil tennis with that girl.”
Rodrick shakes his head before bringing a hand up to his chin, squeezing it between his thumb and index finger, “What was it that you said earlier? Oh yeah - ‘you’re not my boyfriend, Rodrick’ - and what was the other bit?” He thinks again for a second before a lightbulb switches on inside his head, “‘Eddie sure as hell isn’t my boyfriend either.’”
You can feel Eddie’s piercing stare on you at the mention of his name, the rest of his face is sort of dumbfounded, blank, and he visibly deflates with a long exhale, letting himself fall back against the wall.
“Oh fuck you, Rodrick!” You burst, feeling your eyes tear up from the anger boiling so hot inside you.
Rodrick smirks, pouting his bottom lip, “You won’t be, but she will,” he nods in the direction of the Hideout before turning himself back to the entrance, “See you Monday,” he mumbles before letting himself back into the bar, where muffled music can be heard from the stereo on the bar inside.
Your breathing is rapid and hot as you watch him, but your eyes sadden when they avert to Alyssa, who looks so downtrodden and disappointed in you, and you can’t be angry at her after you’d mocked and teased her for wanting to date Gareth, practically forbidding her from going anywhere near him… and here you are, kissing his best friend after swearing to her and the rest of your band that you loathed him.
Alyssa looks down at her fiddling fingers, “I - need to go home and - think about - stuff,” she mumbles, starting to turn away from you.
“Alyssa,” you call softly, watching her stop at the sound of your voice.
“I won’t tell Elektra and Cherie if that’s what you’re worried about,” she tells you softly, looking over her shoulder to give you a sad, closed mouth smile before taking her cowboy hat off and walking in the direction of her home.
A few minutes of silence pass and Eddie is still stood against the wall, watching you, but you’re too angry at yourself to speak… what was I even thinking? Making out with Eddie Munson out here - no, scratch that, making out with Eddie Munson full stop. It felt good to be in his arms - too good.
“Vamp,” you hear him mumble, causing you to catch a glance of him, his eyes still express deep concern and care for you which confuses your anger even more.
“I’m gonna go,” you say under your breath, glimpsing at his lips and turning yourself away before you attempt to kiss him again and fall in love even more.
“Vamp-,” he repeats as he takes a step towards you, ignoring the pain in his pants when he moves his legs.
You abruptly turn yourself around to face Eddie again and though you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t kiss him again a second ago… you find yourself leaning into him, crashing your lips against his roughly for a few seconds before pushing him away from you - no no no, what am I doing? “Leave me alone, Eddie,” you turn yourself away from him and start walking again.
“No - wait,” He catches your hand in his and gently tugs at it, his touch sending shivers through you, making you spin to face him once more. He’s looking down at your hand that is barely visible in his larger, veinier one that has little doodles on it that he probably drew during class yesterday. His eyes flicker up at your face, watching you react to the exact same tingles that he felt where your skin is touching his, “You - you feel that too, right? The electricity?”
Yes, everywhere - and I’m scared because I’ve never felt it before other than when I’m with you… and maybe that’s why I hated you, because I’m just a stupid scaredy cat about anything more than just a quick fuck before and after a gig with Rodrick… is what you want to say, but are too scared to actually voice it… maybe I can show it, that I do feel it too. You look at his lips for what feels like the thousandth time today, yet you aren’t tired of the sight of them, then you pull him towards you with your connected hands, kissing him. He loses himself in your kiss for a few seconds before his eyes open and he nudges you away, cutting the kiss short.
Eddie shakes his head, flustered, “No - no, I want to hear you say it,” he pleads breathlessly, watching your face contort into one of bewilderment at his sudden rejection for your kiss, “Please.”
You bite your lips together, thinking about it, but your brain can hardly come to any kind of conclusion because too much has happened… my mind is a mess, I just can’t think - I need some time alone to try and fix the mess that I’ve made over the last few days… my band, Alyssa - poor Alyssa.
Eddie looks up at the sky as if he’s praying for help from above before looking down at you and squeezing your hand that’s still encased by his, “C’mon, Vamp - you’re killing me here-.”
You scoff, “Me? Killing you?”
“Uh huh-.”
“You say that as if you haven’t destroyed my reputation at the Hideout, as if you haven’t taken away what was supposed to be Stake’s Halloween gig, as if I didn’t just lose a friend and - potentially my band just for kissing you,” you ramble, not realising that you’re squeezing Eddie’s hand for reassurance, like it’s a stress ball.
Eddie, however, does notice your lethal grip and looks down at your hands, choking out a little chuckle, “And yet you’re still holding my hand like a vice - gee, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you have feelings for me.”
Your face drops as you reach boiling point at yourself for giving your feelings away so easily. You snatch your hand out of Eddie’s immediately, dropping it back to your side with brute force, “Now I hate you,” you grumble. You both try to give each other hard eyes to try and express hate, but you both land up giving each other a soft, smouldering look that you just can’t fall for again, so you groan and turn on your heel, “Don’t you dare follow me this time, Munson - because I won’t be kissing you again!” You yell as you cross the quiet road to get to the woods.
“Good!” He yells back, watching your frame longingly as you walk away.
“Fantastic!” You shout, now letting your tears of want for him fall down your cheeks and onto the mud and leaves that crunch under your feet. You half expect him to shout back another word like ‘brilliant’ or ‘great’ that you’re sure will send another jab to your heart, but there’s only silence after that and you don’t know what’s worse - him giving up, or hearing another word that expresses how happy he is to know that you won’t be kissing him again.
This is the first and last time that Eddie Munson makes me cry.
⇝ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞
𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆!!!!! 𝐈𝐭'𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲 <𝟑
𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ’𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒’ 𝐨𝐫 ’𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧’ 𝐭𝐚𝐠-𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰!
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ↯
𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒
@big-ope-vibes @majesticjellyfishzombie @b-ritney @joyfulcandyrunaway @sidthedollface2 @aysheashea @spookycreepycookie @bookobsessedfreak @lefdepard @rottinglexi @aol19 @loki-loves-cats @eddieslooneymoonie @sillypurplemurple @hllfrclb @weirdkidfromtheupsidedown
𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧
@introvertedmouse @munsonology @fastnights @kathieycarrerarosshley @marjoriea13 @goldengunspinkrosses-blog @lolalanaie @neteyamsluvts @sadbitchfangirl
🜸
#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things 4#immie writes#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson x you#eddie munson angst#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x female reader smut#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x fem!reader smut#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson fem!reader#stranger things#eddie munson writing#corroded coffin#battle of the bands#rockstar eddie munson#eddie munson ff#rockstar!eddie munson#rockstar!eddie x reader#eddie munson enemies to lovers#eddie munson stranger things#rockstar!eddie x rockstar!reader#rockstar!eddie smut#eddie munson slow burn#eddie stranger things#eddie munson rockstar au#eddie munson fandom
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New Sonic media needs to introduce more heroic male characters to the lineup.
Normally I like my takes quick and spicy and let people come to their own conclusions with them, but out of all my thoughts on the series that I’ve shared with fellow Sonic fans, this one tends to get the most ire. Bellow the cut are my more in depth thoughts on the matter.
I may be forgetting someone but I’m pretty sure the last character the series introduced that was simultaneously a guy, a hero, and had any sort of staying power was Silver all the way back in TWO THOUSAND SIX. This applies to ALL Sonic media/canon, by the way (be it the games, comics, spin offs like Boom, etc.)
The closest character I could think of that fills this criteria is Razor from the post-reboot Archie comics—he did appear in both the main comic and Sonic Universe, and was the only new character to get his own SCO backstory—but for obvious reasons he’s not showing up again any time soon. I don’t count Chip or Yacker since they’re pretty blatantly meant to be one off characters that fill a specific niche for that game’s plot. Also let’s be real they’re both mid as hell
Compare this to the girls: Sticks, Tangle, Whisper, Sage (who is framed as more of an antihero in Frontiers than a villain), Trip, this new girl from Dream Team…
People scream sexist at me whenever I bring this up, which is ironic because I am a Girl™ myself. My favorite Sonic character, Blaze, is a Girl™. Sticks is one of my favorite additions to the series in a long time, and she’s a Girl™. I’m not against Girl™ in Sonic.
BUT it does make me raise a brow looking at the track record of new characters that have been introduced to the series, specifically when it comes to gender and morality alignment. This is a lot more prevalent in the IDW comics than in the games, but it’s present in both.
Since Colors (which signaled a shift in direction in the series), the new antagonists we’ve gotten in the games are: Orbot and Cubot, the mostly male Deadly Six, the Hardboiled Heavies (if you wanna count them), Infinite, and Sage (kind of). In the IDW comics, we’ve gotten Rough and Tumble, Dr. Starline, Mimic, Clutch, Kit, and Surge.
In the same time period, the new leading/supporting protagonists we’ve gotten in the games are Yacker, the Forces OC, Sage (kind of), Trip, and Ariem (the new girl from Dream Team). You can also squeeze Sticks in here since she’s the only Boom character to get any extra relevance or spotlight on her outside of that spin off. In the IDW comics, we’ve gotten Tangle, Whisper, Jewel, Belle, and Lanolin.
Sure, there’s a little overlap here and there. But you should notice a pattern.
Do not interpret this as me saying that Sonic Team or the writers at IDW have some kind of anti-men agenda going on. That’s not what I’m suggesting. BUT I am getting tired of every new hero being a girl and just about every new villain being a boy. Can’t we switch it up a little?
Even the most prominent female antagonists in the series have some kind of sympathetic edge to them. Surge was brainwashed and experimented on by Starline. Sage’s character arc is supposed to be the focal point of Frontiers, and she only does evil things under Eggman’s command. Trip isn’t even evil in the first place, she just ends up working with Eggman and Fang for…reasons, and ultimately turns against them and becomes a playable hero. They’re not framed the same way that most, if not all of the male villains are. Not even Merlina is fully immune of this.
Outside of the sexist allegations, I usually get one of two responses whenever I bring this up:
A lot of Sonic fans are girls, so the series should introduce more female characters in order to appeal to their female fans.
The series already has a lot of male characters, so they need to balance out the cast with more girls.
Both of these points have their merits and flaws. I think that both of them are/were true up to a certain point, but nowadays they don’t hold up as well after we HAVE gotten tons of new female characters. When Sticks and Tangle were first shown off, I was ecstatic! Sticks being a fourth wall breaking conspiracy theorist is both tons of fun and a character archetype that the series hadn’t explored until then, and Tangle has one of my favorite designs of any Sonic character. But at some point, I started to notice the trend of every new hero being a girl and every new villain being a boy, and it really started to bother me. For IDW Sonic it was around the time Belle and Clutch were introduced (with Lanolin ultimately being the straw that broke the camel’s back—she insists upon herself), and for the games it was after seeing Ariem in Dream Team (I probably would’ve been more annoyed by the Fang/Trip dichotomy if I wasn’t absolutely joyous that the Nack Is Baaaaack). The whole “we need to introduce more girls to the series” angle doesn’t hold up as well when the series seems reluctant to commit to a straight up evil girl. Sonic desperately needs to flesh out his rouges gallery in the games, so why not add an absolutely psycho female antagonist?
Also this is a more personal note but I hate hate HATE it when people allege that girls can’t relate to male characters, so franchises need to introduce the Girl™ character so the Girls™ can relate to her. Can girls not relate to boys? Can boys not relate to girls? Once again, not against female characters in general, but that particular mindset has and will always bother me.
Who knows, maybe Ariem will end up being the main villain of Dream Team. It’d be cool, but I don’t see Sonic Team taking that route, especially not on an Apple Arcade exclusive. I don’t expect any big twists in that game.
Those are my two cents. I just think it’d be cool if we got a new boy as well as all the new girls we’ve been getting.
#I think I’ve brought this up here before but I don’t remember#sonic the hedgehog#sega#idw sonic#sticks the badger#tangle the lemur#whisper the wolf#sage the ai#surge the tenrec#dr starline#ariem the sheep#sonic dream team
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I've had a resurgence of listening to First Aid Kit recently so I decided to pair up a bunch of their songs and lyrics to traffic characters and ships. I'm surprised they’re not more popular in fandom spaces since they’re pretty similar genre-wise to both Crane Wives and the Oh Hellos, so consider this is my community pitch (+ commentary cuz i wanna)
Fleeting one - BigB
"My love is a fleeting one / My man could be anyone / And our love is a setting sun / My life is fleeting one / My work is just a web I've spun / Oh, my life is a setting sun / Baffled by the lives we were lent / We met the end too soon / I was honest when I told you / We're as cryptic as the moon"
BigB has a bit of a history with wavy loyalties. The secret soulmates with Grian, betraying Cleo, and most recently tricking Skizz (I know that was resolved but a pattern is a pattern my man). And well, not that I have any clue what the man's up with all the cryptic gaslighting but I feel like that applies as well.
The lyrics outside the chorus seem to be about a couple falling out of love, but I like to apply it to him and Cleo, which still fits fairly well. Angst galore ofc.
Wolf - Pearl
"When I run through the deep dark forest long after this begun / Where the sun would set, the trees were dead, and the rivers were none / And I hope for a trace to lead me back home from this place / But there was no sound there was only me and my disgrace"
Scratch this being the most Pearl-like FAK song, this is the most Pearl song ever. It's basically what started this whole project. All the lyrics and all the vibes just screams DL Pearl. The song is also a bop, one of my personal favs, if I were to recommend just one of these to listen to then this is a strong contender.
Josefin - Martyn
"You go home with feet bare in the snow / You raise up your head to the dead / You seek of such magical things / And nobody knows where you've been"
This smells of watcher lore guys. Don’t have much more commentary than that, it’s just watcher lore straight up.
King of the World - Lizzie
"I keep running around / Trying to find the ground / But my head is in the stars / And my feet are in the sky / Well I'm nobody's baby / I'm everybody's girl / I'm the queen of nothing / I'm the king of the world"
The lyrics is giving Last Life Lizzie, but it’s also one of the more whimsical-sounding songs on the list which feels very Lizzie in general.
I'll admit the rest of the lyrics isn’t particularly easy to tie into the life series since there’s a bunch of specific modern references like going to the airport and traveling through states, but I love the song way too much not to include it. Might be the personal favourite.
Rebel heart - Desert duo
"You told me once I have a rebel heart / I don't know if that's true / But I believe you saw something in me that lives inside you too / Now I all I hear is the wind / There’s a storm coming through / Did I misplace or forsake my love now that I gave it to you?"
Picking just one lyric section from this song was difficult. Every single word, top to bottom, fits Scarian like a glove. It also slams in a "But I know you truly saw me / Even if just for a while" which just MMMM. Makes me wanna bite someone.
I Found a Way - Treebark
"We play the game with skillful hands / And so I asked for your demands / "Give me your love, give me your gun" / And you traced us back to where we begun"
Tbh this song could apply to a lot of traffic dynamics but it had a lot of loyalty themes which is why I put it at Treebark specifically. That being said: man. It works so well. Specifically Martyn POV. The gun in the lyric above would ofc be the beheading, plus the song later mentions the protagonist having a lot of guilt and being prone to running. It's got C!Martyn all over it.
My Silver Lining - Skizz
"I try not to hold on to what is gone / I try to do right what is wrong / I try to keep on keeping on / Yeah I just keep on keeping on / I hear a voice calling / Calling out for me / These shackles I've made in an attempt to be free / Be it for reason, be it for love / I won't take the easy road"
This is another one where it just is Skizz. He’s probably been the most consistantly loyal and good-natured person in the series, doing anything and everything for his team. I feel this especially with how he was in Limited Life, being determined to spread some light into the world despite the game they found themselves in. When making this list I found that most of these songs could fit multiple dynamics/characters, but this is his song, full stop.
Stay Gold - Flower Husbands
"The sun shone high those few summer days / Left us in a soft, wide-eyed haze / It shone like gold / It shone like gold / But just as the moon, it shall stray / So dawn goes down today / No gold can stay / No gold can stay"
👏ANGST👏GALORE
Another one where I just want to quote the whole song. The song is all about grieving time periods and memories you can’t get back, to which I'm thinking late-game 3rd life, post-3rd life divorce or s1 empires characters having weird nostalgia. I go feral for all of it.
Bonus empires:
Heavy storm - Sausage
"I saw, I saw, I saw, I saw an old photograph / And the picture that appeared / Well, it took me back to the times / When she was around / She used to play that old mandolin / And the moon and the sea invited her in / I wish that I had told her by then / What she knew deep down / That she only wished that time would come back"
S1 Sausage angst my beloved. Or s2, could work either way, but I'm partial to s1. "She" could be either Pearl or Gem, however there is a "he" in the first chorus which is very much Fhwip. Like Stay Gold it’s all about grieving old times, so I like to imagine a post S1 Sausage grieving his old family :D
#might make a part 2 at some point if i feel like it#i got so much more#trafficblr#3rd life#last life#double life#limited life#secret life#scarian#treebark#flower husbands#pearlescentmoon#inthelittlewood#skizzleman#ldshadowlady#empires sausage#nudge.rambles
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IDW Sonic: Imposter Syndrome and #50
It’s finally here! IDW Sonic #50! I waited to talk about the Imposter Syndrome miniseries until after #50 dropped, and it turns out #50 has, uh... well, it’s made a big splash. I’m not sure I’ve seen this many people talking about (and/or arguing over) a single issue of Sonic in a long time.
As expected, in this post I’ll be talking about Surge, Kit, and Starline, but #50 has also given us a ton to chew on regarding Sonic and Eggman, Belle, and the overarching themes of the entire IDW series.
Let’s start out with the miniseries!
IMPOSTER SYNDROME
Surge rules
Can I just say that up front? That’s my main takeaway. Surge fucking rules
She was popular from the very second the first images of her dropped because Evan and Mauro came up with an extremely sick design, and the actual story does not disappoint. She borrows liberally from delinquent rival anime tropes (except, you know, she’s a girl, so it’s instantly even better), but that’s such a natural and fun addition to the Sonic cast that she instantly grabs you
And boy, if the writing and the strength of the design weren’t already enough, Thomas Rothlisberger’s art throughout the arc sure does. I’ve seen a lot of comparisons to Rise of the TMNT, which I can see. But Surge just makes so many good faces, constantly, and everything she does is cool. She’s angry teenage rebellion personified and she’s instantly become one of my favorite characters in the entire franchise, period. (Tangle and Whisper are also up there, so it’s safe to say the IDW comics have an extremely good track record when it comes to comic-original characters.)
Like seriously just look at her faces and tell me she isn’t the best
Kit, AKA “Aw Little Guy!!! Oh He's A Little Bit Fucked Up Actually”
There were always hints that Kit had a sinister side to him - he is a villain, after all - but Surge stole the show at the start of the miniseries. This left Kit mostly as her meager sidekick struggling to please both her and Starline. In this way, he’s a dark reflection of Tails. Where Tails has become more independent over time, becoming more of an equal to Sonic, Kit exists entirely to support Surge. Starline made him this way, because this is how Starline perceives Sonic and Tails’ relationship. Starline doesn’t really understand people despite thinking he does, and this is what ultimately damns all of them
Naturally, this has left Kit kind of fucked up. Over the course of the arc, it becomes clear that he’s probably the scarier of the two. Surge might be stronger, but like Sonic, she wears her emotions and her intentions on her sleeve. But Kit? Kit suppresses his violent urges, until they build to a point where he can’t anymore
(these panels from #50 but still)
Holy shit, Starline???
I touched on Starline’s very meta plan earlier. I would have honestly been happy if Ian and co. had just added these cool new rivals for Sonic and Tails and let them duke it out, because they are, in fact, cool as hell. But the actual plot of the arc is more intriguing than that
Starline has always been a very meta character, with his main trait as a character basically being that he can zoom out and notice patterns in the franchise that other characters either can’t or won’t. He’s the guy who watches a movie and says how he would make smarter decisions than the characters the whole time. Early on, he did this with Eggman. He tried to “fix” Eggman’s methods so that he could finally succeed in beating Sonic and taking over the world, but this didn’t work out, and Eggman kicked him to the curb. He then decided that he would simply go solo and take over the world for Eggman. He finally reveals his true plan for doing so here: create his own “heroes” who can replace Sonic and Tails, the main heroes who always stand in the way of “progress” (Eggman taking over the world). In theory, this will allow Starline to control the hero/villain dynamic from both sides, ending the cycle of Eggman trying to “change the world” and Sonic stopping him
And of course, Starline calls this cycle he intends to break...
“The Sonic Cycle.”
I love you Ian
It quickly becomes apparently, though, that Starline’s plan here is, uh. Extremely fucked up! Wow! Early on it’s revealed that Starline has repeatedly been “rebooting” Surge and Kit. Any time the cracks start to show in their conditioning and they question their life stories, Starline’s orders, or their innate desires to defeat Sonic and Tails, Starline edits their memories. They do start to put two and two together, though, and eventually they learn the truth: they’re just two random kids Starline kidnapped and experimented on. They don’t remember their actual pasts, and Starline didn’t bother to keep track of who they originally were because he doesn’t care. They’ve been modified with cyborg endoskeletons and even have some of the Metal Virus in them, making them nigh-unkillable. Which Starline tested by... well, killing them repeatedly to make sure they always bounced back.
This is... so much darker than I would have ever expected? But in a fantastic way. It makes Starline SO absolutely despicable, and it gives Surge and Kit this pathos that makes you want to root for them, even as they set out to go rogue and burn the whole world down. Surge is very much set up as her own antihero in the buildup to her showdown with Sonic, which is a choice that I think leads to some fascinating character juxtaposition when it finally happens in issue #50.
Really, my only complaint about the miniseries was that the marketing made it seem like Sonic and Tails would be dealing with these two sooner, when in reality this is all the setup. The extremely hype wrestling promos for the climactic Wrestlemania that is Sonic #50. (My other complaint, I suppose, is that IDW is still having multiple artists trade off in a single story, which can be a bit jarring. But that’s a publisher-wide issue.)
But MAN. When we finally do get that big showdown? It does not disappoint.
SONIC #50
As with Imposter Syndrome, I went in expecting Sonic and Tails to fight Surge and Kit. And we absolutely got that with this extra-long issue penciled by Adam Bryce Thomas. Adam’s always been an A-lister on the IDW series, especially when it comes to bombastic shounen manga-inspired battles, but this issue might just be his best Sonic work yet
But like I said at the start, the issue is more than just some cool fights.
Sonic vs. Surge
Surge’s entire life, or at least what little of her life she can remember thanks to Starline, has been building up to this moment. Whoever she was before is gone, replaced with one purpose. She’s been impatiently awaiting the day she's finally allowed to fight Sonic to the death. We’ve followed her through Starline’s inhumane training, the audience being equally antsy after months of buildup. At long last, she confronts him. She delivers an impassioned speech about what she stands for, how she curses the world that discarded her, how she’s going to tear Sonic and anyone else who stands in her way a new one...
And Sonic... doesn’t really give that much of a shit.
They do fight, of course. Boy, do they ever. But Sonic has never met this girl before and has no animosity towards her. He’s also done this too many times and would like to skip to the part where they’re friends, or at least frenemies. And this is just... tragic for Surge. For her, this is the most important day in her life. But for Sonic, it’s Tuesday. For Surge, this is a duel to the death. But Sonic, ever the unflappably positive shounen protagonist, is just having fun fighting someone who keeps him on his toes. He refuses to validate her on her terms.
(There are also a lot of interesting parallels with Tails’ simultaneous fight with Kit, where the kindhearted Tails is trying to be extremely nice and defuse the situation when he realizes that Kit is just some poor, fucked up kid. But instead of going on my own tangent I’ll link this very good TikTok analyzing Sonic’s social skills and the interesting ways his blunt, brash attitude can clash with the fact that he does genuinely care a lot.)
I even feel like Adam’s art is playing up the idea that Sonic’s attitude continues to make him the villain for Surge. His speech about his ideals places him above Surge, with a smug expression on his face and sunbeams shining down over him. Adam’s own (extremely sick) variant cover is framed very similarly, showing us the smug and above-it-all Sonic from Surge’s perspective.
Why does Surge think Sonic is so holier-than-thou? And why does she still care about fighting him if she just wants to defy Starline’s brainwashing? Well, she directly calls out his belief in the power of second chances, blaming Sonic for her very existence. Which ties back into what’s become one of the main recurring themes of the IDW series.
Sonic’s Characterization
As Ian’s explained, Sonic’s characterization in the IDW series has been informed by a number of factors. For one, more compassionate heroes are just landing better with audiences these days, including in shounen manga. Your Dekus, your Tanjiros, etc. But beyond that, Sega explicitly forbids Sonic and friends from proactively seeking out Eggman. Sonic is never looking for a fight. Eggman simply causes trouble, Sonic shows up to stop him, and he returns to being a free-spirited roamer.
Really, Sonic’s attitude in the current comics isn’t much different from how he acts in the games. Ian just decided to draw more attention to this behavior, and turn it into an explicit character trait that impacts the story.
I don’t really know what games people have been playing where Sonic DOESN’T act like this? Sure, there are a few games where a villain dies. There are always going to be counterexamples in a series as inconsistent as this. But look at how many characters Sonic has given second chances, and how lightly Sonic often takes threats to the world. Shadow was trying to blow up the damn planet and Sonic was still just having fun racing him on the ARK. Chaos destroyed a whole major metropolitan city and Sonic is like “hold on, Chaos is just hurt, we need to break this cycle of violence.” He’s ended up working with Eggman plenty of times to stop a greater threat. Even when this doesn’t happen, Eggman tends to just fly away at the end. Sonic never hunts him down. Again, Sega forbids him from doing this. It’s not in his character. The IDW comics just explore why.
At the same time, bad faith criticisms of Sonic’s willingness to give villains second chances tend to ignore the very important second part of this mantra, which this issue has Sonic spell out explicitly. Yes, he believes in giving people personal freedom. But the second they use that freedom to hurt people, Sonic is going to beat their asses again. He doesn’t have qualms about using violence in that way. He is, by no definition of the word, a pacifist. Sonic understands that Surge is traumatized, and tries to give her the chance to back down. She refuses, so he kicks her ass, because she’s a threat. Sonic sort of took mercy on the Zeti, in that he didn’t fucking execute them or whatever... but they also got banished back to the Lost Hex where they can’t hurt anyone. Tails disarmed Metal Sonic before they let him go. Sonic let Eggman go only because he had amnesia and Mr. Tinker was, by all accounts, a literal different person. The second he came back? Sonic gladly went right back to blowing his shit up. He is not out here handwringing about Eggman Empire property damage, he’s destroying his bases and smashing his mechs again.
Sonic also isn’t just any regular guy, and can’t always be judged as such. He’s a larger-than-life hero. He’s the embodiment of freedom, of endless adventure, of the power of friendship, of other idealized... well, ideals. This is the very core of his character. He’s the unshakably positive hero who never blinks in the face of danger, who the other, more realistically fallible characters can lean on. He’s a force of nature. He’s not perfect, and he doesn’t always handle things the right way, and other characters will bring up valid counterpoints to his way of life. Like other shounen heroes like Goku or Luffy, he might be a hero due to his actions, but he’s not concerned about being the world’s savior or its god. He doesn’t want to dictate how people live their lives. He leaves decisions about how to run society to other, smarter people, like the Restoration. He just wants to be free to go on adventures and to help his friends when they’re in need. His theme song spells out his whole deal, clear as day: It doesn’t matter who’s wrong and who’s right. He’s just living by his own feelings, and he won’t give in, won’t compromise. He only has a steadfast heart of gold.
Surge can’t stand this, though. The two just can’t see eye to eye. And so she zaps Sonic when he takes a time out in their fight to help her out of a chasm, getting the last laugh and seemingly falling to her doom. “That’s the real problem with giving people a choice,” Sonic solemnly says. “You can’t stop them from making the wrong ones.”
The Bigger Problem
Beyond any fandom bickering over how Sonic should or shouldn’t be characterized, though, this is part of a larger problem that I’ve seen way too frequently in recent years. Adults are engaging with genre fiction for children, and then getting upset when the child protagonists fail to model what they perceive as proper behavior for adults. Particularly, adults are seeing child protagonists learn to solve conflicts nonviolently, or even merely refusing to kill a villain, and interpreting this media as a political playbook for adults telling them that punching Nazis is bad.
That’s not to say that children’s media is never political, of course, or that you can never judge it through a political lens. (Back in the Archie days the direct political allegories were NOT subtle.) But just because some cartoon villains are obvious stand-ins for fascists doesn’t mean that every cartoon with a world-conquering villain is trying to tell you, an adult, how you should deal with fascists, or murderers, or whatever bad faith comparison critics on YouTube and Twitter want to make this time.
This will hopefully be insultingly obvious to most people reading this, but fiction isn’t always literally about the thing it’s depicting, or the closest real world equivalent. In genre fiction, and especially genre fiction for kids, reality is heightened. A fight for the fate of the city or the world or the universe isn’t necessarily about world-scale threats in real life like fascism, or even about real world violent conflicts in general. It’s often more about the emotions than what’s literally happening on screen. In a musical, when the emotions get too strong for words, they break out into song. In an action cartoon, when the emotions get too strong between conflicting characters, they fight. The fantastical violence is just the medium through which the story is conveyed. They trade blows and express their feelings.
Similarly, when the child hero in a series for children saves the day by hugging the right person, or when a villain is redeemed, or when Naruto espouses the power of friendship and uses Talk no Jutsu for the hundredth time, that isn’t telling you, a 30-year-old, that you can go out right now and save America by giving Mitch McConnell a hug. The morals of these stories aren’t necessarily supposed to apply to world-scale conflicts because children are not responsible for saving the world in real life. Instead, the lessons apply more to conflicts that children do deal with. Disputes with friends, or family members, or teachers. Things like that. It’s telling kids that hey, maybe you’ve been mean to people, maybe you’ve acted wrong, but you can learn from your mistakes and do better. That is what lessons about trying to resolve conflicts peacefully, talking about your feelings, empathizing with others, and giving people second chances are supposed to be about. They (usually) aren’t intended as political playbooks for adults telling you not to punch a Nazi, because the people telling these stories are probably hoping that adults aren’t modeling their political behavior after Cartoon Network and Shonen Jump.
But while I generally enjoy this compassionate take on the Sonic series, there is one part of the issue that felt weaker when it comes to the heroes showing compassion towards the villains.
Belle and Metal
If there’s one character from the games that I think Ian has always struggled with more than others, it’s probably Metal Sonic. Of course, not every writer is going to gel with every character, especially on a licensed series where you’re working with someone else’s cast. (Lord knows if I was to write a Sonic series I would play favorites lmao.) And Ian’s definitely put out some great Metal Sonic stories. But he’s also prone to boiling the character down to a simple killer robot for Sonic and co. to repeatedly defeat without any interiority.
Belle has also been a contentious character throughout this season. I’ll reiterate that I think Belle is great, and the big emotional beats with her have been strong. I would say the mixed response to Belle is primarily a matter of pacing, more than anything else. As Evan explained over on her blog, Belle's backstory was originally just going to be a short one-off. When the 2021 Annual was replaced with the Classic Sonic special, Belle’s story got turned into the main overarching subplot connecting the stories of the third season. I do like a lot of the storytelling this allowed for. The buildup to the reveals in the Test Run arc, and her ensuing tearful breakdown; her questioning of her very nature as a Badnik; her heroic moments in Trial by Fire where she’s finally able to prove herself. It’s good stuff! Character arcs like this are why original characters are added to the comics in the first place. But I can also see how the slow and somewhat repetitive rollout of information and emotional beats is a bit much over a year and a half of comics, and it was a little odd to have her stick around as the only consistent main character for every single arc of the season as soon as we met her. But I still enjoyed her arc this season as a whole.
No, where I start to be more mixed on the direction of Belle as a character is this issue. Previously, Belle had made it her mission to try and save as many Badniks as she could. I understand her motivation, and I do think this has potential to be a fun premise. Badniks are EXTREMELY underutilized in the tie-in fiction, and anyone in this corner of the fandom who’s following artists like Hydro knows how fun it is to have Badnik characters around.
But the problem is, of course... if we start to recognize the Badniks that Sonic destroys casually as people, doesn’t that make it wrong for him to destroy them?
I guess it depends on the context, and how it’s executed in the future. Like, Motobud was fine because that’s not just A Motobug, but one that was specifically reprogrammed by Mr. Tinker to be friendly. But what’s Belle’s endgame here? Where is the line drawn between robots that need to be saved and simple obstacles for Sonic to pop in action sequences?
To me, we start to see the cracks in issue #50 with Belle’s attempts to save Metal Sonic. Metal is certainly no stranger to redemption arcs and characters trying to see the good in him - the OVA basically defined him as a character. But still. It’s admirable for Belle to see a robot who’s hurt and want to help, but the sympathy shown for Metal is laying it on a bit thick for me given Ian’s usual characterization of him as a missile with legs. Sonic already let him go once early in the series, but that was specifically because he thought Eggman was gonna remain Mr. Tinker forever at the time, and he and Tails also made sure not to restore his full fighting abilities. (”We’re compassionate, not stupid.”) But in this very different context, with a very different character, it’s just... eh, it didn’t sell me on this as a wise use of Belle’s compassion. If she wants to help the “abandoned” Eggman bots, Metal is very much not one of those. He just happened to have been hurt by Surge when they found him.
Not the end of the world, but it’s the weak part of what’s otherwise an amazing issue, and I worry that Belle showing complete and total sympathy towards every Eggman robot may get old fast. But, like I said, it will depend entirely on the execution. Maybe she’ll only single out the oddballs like herself and Motobud. It may not even be a huge element of the story moving forward, since I know Evan’s outright said Belle would be taking more of a backseat now that her initial arc is completed. (It also seems like Eggman wants to take advantage of the fact that she interfaced with Metal, so her kindness here may backfire...)
If anything, though, I do like the little awkward family reunion where Belle is telling Eggman that she’s done hoping he’ll go back to being Mr. Tinker and is gonna go live her own life and Metal is just kind of standing there because he won’t attack another Eggman creation.
Anyway! I can’t believe I haven’t mentioned the giant robot fight
Starline’s Final Comeuppance
Sonic’s ideals, as explained in his fight with Surge, are also directly contrasted with Starline as he fights Eggman. Sonic stands for personal freedom, for better or worse, but Starline stands for total control, even more so than Eggman. He tries to manipulate people and the very story he exists in to steer everyone in the totalitarian direction he thinks is best. Anything outside of his narrative doesn’t matter. Even as Eggman is fighting him in a giant mech, he’s still under the impression that his actions are justified, that Eggman will be okay with being a pawn in his scheme so long as they get their happy ending ruling the world.
Instead, he loses a sick-ass mech fight, he’s humiliated worse than ever before, and then he dies!
I actually didn’t read it as a death at first because being crushed by rubble is such an easy “death” to write around, and it’s, you know, a comic book. Nobody stays dead in comic books. (We already know Surge survives this issue, regardless of how it looked.) But Ian did, indeed, intend for this to be Starline’s death. He also admits that that’s not entirely up to him since he’s not the only person making story decisions, so I won’t be surprised if he comes back in a year or two. Regardless, as much as I like the character, this is probably the most fitting death Starline possibly could have had. He thought he could outsmart Eggman, and the very nature of the series he’s in. Some readers, too, have accused Ian of writing Eggman as too much of a bumbling oaf in the IDW comics, especially with Starline always pointing out his mistakes. Even the marketing for this arc seems to have played into this, asking if Eggman would “bumble his way to a victory”
All this for the ultimate slam dunk in this issue where Ian definitively reminds us that, even if he can never beat Sonic... no one else can definitively beat Eggman, either.
Because Eggman fucking rules
I said at the top that Starline is damned because he doesn’t understand people as well as he thinks he does. He creates Surge and Kit as dark and deeply broken reflections of Sonic and Tails because he so fundamentally misunderstands how their dynamic works. He thinks he understands Eggman, too, but he doesn’t. He may consider himself Eggman’s #1 fan, but he’s a toxic fanboy with faulty criticisms. He’s CinemaSins. He focuses on the details and the logic, he nitpicks, and he thinks he could do everything better if given the opportunity. He thinks he understands the nature of the series he’s in, but he fails to see the big pictures, the heart. He doesn’t understand why Sonic is really the hero beyond his strength and bravado. He doesn’t understand why Tails is a hero beyond his ability to support Sonic. And he doesn’t understand why, despite his many mistakes, Eggman will always endure as the true big bad of this world. And this leads to his downfall at the hands of his idol
I could say more about this issue and the ones that lead to it! I have obviously already said way too much. I’m gonna cut it off here!
Even with all the hype to live up to, this was an extremely satisfying issue of Sonic. One of the best in a long, long time. This one’s gonna stick with people. I have my quibbles, but it really has it all. Action, humor, drama, heart, stunning artwork, and a whole lot of character work to think about. Can’t really ask for more, can I?
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Presents - part II
Pairing : John Price x f!reader. (Reader is medic , call sign : Chameleon )
Summary: second part to Presents.
Price attempts to make soap for you, along with the 141 boys. interesting results followed.
Slight crack-ish fun :) not beta’d.
This is part of the “Mini” MacTavish universe, but the reader isn’t “ Mini”.
Continuation of Little secret series.
Thanks for @captainpriceslover for her inspiration for the fic Trinkets, this is kind of continuation from that fic too. you are forever my Price crack fic inspiration LOL.
“masterlist” for prequel to this Mini MacTavish expanded verse.
“Dad… you added too much water. It’s not going to trace again.”
Price groaned in frustration. He followed all the steps as prescribed! This is the third batch he had messed up. Sighing as he poured his failed batch into a plastic tub on the side and ready to start again.
“You want me to do it Dad? Just pass me the ingredients.” Taking pity on his dad, Kyle gently nudges his dad over to one side, taking over the whisk and bowl. He didn’t quite expect his dad, who is perfect in everything, to be this bad in hand crafting related stuff.
Everyone has gathered at Mini and Soap’s parent’s farm for their yearly get together. It has become a tradition for the Task force 141 families to stay a few days up at the MacTavish farm for a few days, away from their chaotic life.
Price came up to Ghost one day, begrudgingly asking him and Mini to help him to make some special birthday presents for you as a surprise.
He knew you sent some soap making kits as Christmas presents to Mini the year before, since you are such a soap fanatic, he decided making handcrafted soap with his son, to give it to you would be the best.
With you and Mini both expecting another baby on the way, Soap’s wife Emma has dragged you out for a bit of baby shopping as a distraction.This gives the group a good chance to get things done while you were out.
Price looked over to Ghost, who is pouring up his fifth batch into the mould with ease (is he humming under the mask??? ) while instructing the twins to bring more moulds over.
“Simon. You done this before?” Price asked.
“.... Maybe.” Ghost replied quietly, without looking him in the eyes.
“Gaz, be careful with that…you're going to overmix that. we are not having a competition here…” Mini warned. Gaz is currently stirring his mixture like crazy, both him and Soap getting into this competition of who can make up a batch fastest. Mini turned around to her brother, a bit alarmed by what he was trying to add into the bowl,“ Johnny… what the hell are you adding in… “ Before she could stop her brother, a small explosion occurred.
“JOHNNY. I’ll gie ye a skelpit lug if ye destory my keetchin!!” Froze in his track, Soap slowly turned around, seeing a very angry Mrs MacTavish glaring at him.
“HA, Ma is angry, you levy heid.” Mini smirked, turning towards the twins, “ kids, take your uncle out to play with your cousins. Make sure he doesn’t come back in here again.”
The twins were happy to comply with their mother, dragging their uncle out towards the garden, where their grandpa and cousins are currently playing outside in the garden.
“Gaz, you too. Finish off your batch and go knit with my Ma. She’s very keen to share with you the latest baby clothes pattern she found.” Gaz pouted but complied with Mini’s command.
The rest of the soap making session went without a hitch afterwards.
“Dad.” Kyle elbowed Price, trying to get his attention back, passing him some wrapping paper, “ Mum is going to be back soon, we better get this done fast.”
Popping the soap out from the mould, two of them carefully wrap the present up carefully, along with other presents the team families had passed onto Price before they left the farm.
“Boys! I am home!” you called out from the front, waddling in with slight difficulties with few files under your arm. True workaholic like your husband, you want to get some loose ends and work to finish up before you go on maternity leave in a few weeks time. Price wanted to come with you ( as he is being an overprotective husband as always with your pregnancy. “ did you forget what happened when you were pregnant with Kyle??” he warned. ) you have shooed him off to follow you to the barrack, “John, I am only going to grab some files from the office, I am not going into the field! I will be fine, stay home and enjoy your time off.”
“Mum!” your son ran up to you and gave you a hug. Hugging him back and ruffling his hair,
“Had a good time with Dad?” you asked.
Nodding his head, he pulled you into the living room, “Come! We got surprises for you.” Surprises?? You raised your eyebrow, putting down your bags and kicking your shoes off, you followed Kyle into the living room.
You were surprised when you saw a pile of presents on the coffee table and a very sheepish looking Price standing beside it.
“Wha??”
“Happy Birthday Love.” Birthday? Oh. That’s right, it is your birthday. You totally forgot about it.
Price came up and gave you a hug and a kiss. “You forgot didn’t you?” he chuckled.
Blushing away, “as always.” You admitted. You never really put any emphasis on celebrating your own birthday, but Price, usually not a romantic person, never forgets about it, and will always do something to celebrate it, big or small.
Leading you to sit down on the couch, Kyle excitingly passes you all the presents. You open them one by one, winter clothes and blankets knitted by Gaz and Mrs MacTavish, bottle of Vintage whisky from the MacTavish cellar from Mr MacTavish ( with note attached: "for after the baby of course.”) and few crochet dolls for the new baby, fancy looking soap dispensers from the Simon and Mini, and hand made cards from the Riley Twins and MacTavish kids, Spa Vouchers from Soap and Emma. You were quite touched by the team families thoughtfulness.
“Oh open that box mum!! Dad and I made these for you!” John made something? You look at him, Price looking very nervous, “Well, mostly Kyle. I wasn’t really good at making hand crafted stuff as I have realised.” you opened the box and unwrapped the heavy block of things inside, there were blocks of very nicely made Soaps in there. Even your favourite fragrances.
“When did you two make this??”
“Remember when Emma dragged you out shopping when we were up at the farms? Everyone helped out.”
Tears welled up in your eyes. You know everytime you buy new soaps and soap dispensers, Price will roll his eyes, “love, do we even have spaces in the cupboards for these?”, but he will always bring back more soaps and dispensers for you when he comes back from trips and missions if he has time to search for them.
Sobbing away you stood up and gave your son a big hug.
“Don’t cry mum. I hope you like it??”
“Very much. Thank you.” wiping away your tears, you stood up and gave your husband a big kiss on the lip.
“Happy Birthday love.” he pulled you in a tight hug.
You have no words how much you love your husband and your adopted team family.
Ghost secretly loves the soap-making process. The common bathroom at the barrack is suddenly full of hand-made soap Ghost and Chameleon made ( but no one knows where they came from. )
Gaz and Mrs MacTavish often share new knitting patterns they find with each other.
Soap turns everything into explosives.
Price…. Just not good at any hand-craft related stuff. Not even the simplest thing.
Mini, Emma and Chameleon try to set Gaz up with someone (anyone) that will appreciate his amazing knitting and crocheting ability.
I actually made soaps myself few times, even for my wedding bomboniere. it was a lot of fun :)
@tapioca-marzipan
@floral-force ( mutton chop no.7 :P )
#call of duty#captain john price#john price x you#john price x reader#john price imagine#john price#john price x y/n#captain price x reader#captain price#captain price x y/n#captain john price x reader#captain john price x you#captain john price x female reader#crack fic#mini mactavish universe#mini mactavish verse#mini mactavish
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💖 rough kiss / hot and heavy / making out
Cody/Kix, if you're open to requests. Please and thank you. 😊
Kix’s hair is freshly shaved, the lines of the intricate pattern sharp and next. He smells faintly of evergreen trees—he must have been planning on going out. He’s come to see Cody instead.
“I’ve got work to do,” Cody says, there’s a pile of reports from 3rd system commanders that he needs to read before he can even start to consider himself on leave. “I can spare an hour.”
Kix runs his tongue over his teeth, visibly weighing up his options. They both get the same thing out of this, there’s no need to pretend they don’t. There’s no reason to make it personal.
“An hour will do,” Kix decides. He steps past Cody, eyes flicking over the details of Cody’s quarters and then back to Cody. Cody closes the door and slides back behind his desk.
“Shove everything on the bed into my kit bag. I’m finishing this.” He’s almost done, and it’s better it’s not left lingering.
“Does this come out of the hour?” Kix asks, without a hint of sarcasm. The bed ruffles and Cody’s things thump into his kit bag.
“Yes,” he says.
The bunk creaks as Kix sits down. He doesn’t attempt to make any more conversation.
Cody closes the report and logs out of his data pad.
Kix’s shirt is on the floor. He shaved everywhere along with his hair, the smattering of chest hair clones have gone, leaving him smooth. There’d been no doubt that he’d planned to go out, but this paints a perfect image of what exactly he’d planned. Cody’s easier than going out. No need to butter him up, or flirt over drinks.
Just ask if he’s game and bring enough viciousness to keep things interesting. Kix rarely lets Cody down on that note.
Cody climbs into Kix’s lap. The smell of Kix's cologne is clearer in the hollow of his neck. Cody puts his tongue to it and under clean sweat is a sharp hint of bitterness. Kix breaths deep, his chest raising and falling between them. Kix likes to think himself unflappable, but Cody knows him well at this point, knows how to get under his skin and ensure they both get what they want. Cody kisses him softly, mouth closed. He cups Kix’s jaw with a tenderness that won’t go unanswered.
Cody kisses him until Kix gets impatient.
Kix flips them without warning. Cody roles with it, letting Kix pin him to the bed, looming over him.
“Why do you always make everything difficult?” Kix demands.
“You’re a better lay when you’re pissed off,” Cody smiles,too wide and too smug.
Kix’s laughs, but there’s a sharpness to the edge of it. Kix’s mouth collides with his with bruising force, tongue pushing into Cody’s mouth, teeth nipping too hard at soft skin.
They’re both here for the same thing and it’s not a conversation.
Kix shoves Cody’s shirt up his chest, breaking the kiss to drag it up over Cody’s head. His fingers skim over the newly bared skin. The touch isn’t light for more than a moment. He grabs one of Cody’s nipples and twists. Cody hisses, snapping at Kix’s mouth. Kix rewards his effort by smashing their mouths back together. Aggression makes it clumsy, makes it more teeth than lips. Makes it wet and desperate and breathless
Kix’s chest heaves, heart thudding fast again Cody. He’s flushed already. He’d looked so perfect when he came in and Cody’s already messed him up. Cody pulls Kix closer by the back of his head, nails scratching across the clean lines of his hair.
Now just to make him sweat enough to wash that cheap cologne right off him.
#my fic#cody/kix#cloneshipping#Let them eat each other alive#also kix knows how good he looks#don't pretend you don't like it Cody
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My warrior cats cultural headcanons:
THUNDERCLAN:
• If a storm happens during the last few moons of a cat’s apprenticeship, they must do a storm hunt. Inspired by their Clan’s name, the cat must be able to catch at least three pieces of prey during severe thunder, wind, rain, and lightning. Completing this successfully shows they’re of Thunderstar’s blood, and allows them to potentially be made warriors early. The only ThunderClan-born cat who has completed this trial was Tigerstar.
• Warrior name prefixes such as Rain, Cloud, Storm, Lightning, etc, and suffixes such as -storm and -cloud were popular during ThunderClan’s early years. After the deaths of Thunderstar and Lightning Tail, his descendants wanted to be as close as they could to their Clan’s founding leader. The tradition began with Thunderstar’s grandchildren through Lightning Stripe.
• Cats with ginger pelts were seen as a good omen, and considered the kin of Thunderstar and Violet Dawn themselves. Part of Bluestar’s reasoning for believing the fire that’d save ThunderClan was Rusty was because of his vibrant ginger pelt. Brown pelts were also an attractive phenotype.
• Green eyes is a common phenotype seen in ThunderClan cats. It’s rumored that the green eyes came from Thunderstar’s mother, Storm, and that the green symbolized ThunderClan’s relationship with the forest around them. The more vibrant shade of green a cat’s eyes were, the more “connected” they were to the environment around them.
• Tree-hopping is a sport derived from SkyClan customs that seeped into ThunderClan via Cloudstar’s family. ThunderClan cats were expected to be proficient tree climbers from an early age, but the ability to move nimbly from tree to tree was something that only came with experience and expert balance. Thus, a cat who suffered an injury to their tail often were met with shame due to their inability to balance properly. (i.e. Halftail/Sparrowpelt)
• Kits born during thunderstorms were expected to be brilliant future leaders or cursed traitors; a double-edged sword of sorts. The Clan’s medicine cat would often be the ones to determine which of the two storm-born kits would become.
SHADOWCLAN:
• Stealth and cunning are such key values of the ShadowClan warrior that cats would be chosen for patrols strictly based on their pelt color. Naturally, dark colors such as brown, dark gray, and black were favored heavily, with extra points if those pelts were patterned. It would be warriors with those colored pelts who were most chosen for battle patrols and hunting parties. It was really only in leaf-bare that cats with light gray or white pelts would be selected for hunting and battle patrols, due to them blending in with the snow.
• Because pine trees never lose their leaves as oak trees do, it is customary for a ShadowClan cat’s nest to be woven with pine needles. The scent of pine is intense, yet attractive, and in spite of ShadowClan’s sour reputation, they take pride in their environment.
• Name prefixes such as Raven, Shade, Black, Night, Dusk, and Dark are wildly popular, while -shade, -claw, -tooth, and -fang are also popular.
• Kits begin undergoing training by their parents before the age of 6 moons. It isn’t an official apprenticeship, so they aren’t violating the warrior code. Parents take their kits into the forest in the dead of night, training them to navigate the dark with minimal assistance. Hardening them to the starling rustle of prey of the hoo of a nearby owl. They’d need to learn to become one with the shadows if they were to be successful warriors.
• When Brokenstar became leader, these traditions temporarily died out when elders were exiled, though Ashfur and Nightpelt re-introduced them into ShadowClan before their deaths. Tigerstar found these traditions strange, but allowed his Clanmates to practice them nonetheless.
• There’s a game kits and young apprentices play called the shadow game. Basically, the cat must stay in a shadow of their choice for hours at a time as the sun moves across the sky. When the sun goes on, the cat wins if they’ve loyally followed their chosen shadow throughout the day.
WINDCLAN:
• Tunneling was such a large part of an exclusively-WindClan custom that the Clan lost a large part of it’s identity. Heatherstar was resented among the former tunnelers, while she was held in high regard by the former moor-runners. Tallstar introduced moor racing, which was something that was short-lived. As indicated, cats would race each other across WindClan’s territory. Whoever won these races were given the fattest rabbit for their meal that day.
• Since WindClan’s territories both in the forest and beside the lake lacked many trees, WindClan cats would use dense grasses to build their nests, along with the occasional flower. When WindClan cats moved to the lake territories, they were greeted with a large flower field on the edge of their territory. Cats looking to decorate their nests or flatter a potential mate would often pick flowers from this field. The quality of the flowers were very important.
• If a WindClan cat accepted a flower from a potential mate, it would be considered as confirmation of their relationship, and sometimes, one of their kits would be named after a flower. However, it was obvious when flower-picking wasn’t done with the purest intentions. When Crowfeather returned to WindClan after his attempted escape with Leafpool, he hastily picked flowers to impress Nightcloud. By the time he returned to camp, the flowers were beginning to darken in color, their leaves curling and the petals wilting.
• Kits were given names that would show off their speed. Breezekit, Rabbitkit, Harekit, and Windkit were popular names, though cats tended to shy away from Windkit out of respect for Windstar’s memory. Suffixes such as -flight and -flower remain popular for WindClan warriors.
• Although ThunderClan and ShadowClan are typically hailed as the strongest Clans, WindClan cats take pride in how they’ve overcome so much as a Clan. How they returned after Brokenstar’s Clan drove them out. How they became one once more after Mudclaw and Onewhisker’s struggle for leadership led to a fracture.
• An old queen’s tale said that a pregnant queen should spend a large portion of her day outside during a particularly windy day, since the wind was rumored to make her kits stronger and faster. When Palesky became pregnant with Woollytail’s kits, she wanted to ensure her litter was strong and healthy, wanting to avoid what happened to Finchkit.
RIVERCLAN:
• RiverClan cats are said to be among the most beautiful. Silver and gray tabby fur is held in high regard, as the colors mimicked many aspects of RiverClan’s territory. Even though RiverClan and ThunderClan were natural enemies due to their repeated clashes over Sunningrocks, it’s rumored that Whitestorm fell in love with one as a young cat, though nothing came of this.
• Mistkit, Streamkit, Splashkit, Cloudkit, etc are popular names, with -splash and -stream being among the most popular suffixes for RiverClan cats. One thing that RiverClan share in common with ThunderClan is the belief that kits born during a storm have the ability to become the Clan’s next leaders. The only difference in RiverClan is that there’s no suspicion storm-born kits hold any innate evilness in their souls. Kits like Stormkit and Oakkit were held in high regard for being born during a storm, and for being the sons of the Clan’s deputy. Even after Stormkit’s injury left him disabled and with Crookedkit as a new name, many cats refused to lose faith in him (though they were far more confident with Oakheart)
• “Drypaws” weren’t just teased, but they were often forced to swim against their will. This practice ended when Leopardstar assumed leadership, having been a former drypaw herself. She wanted RiverClan-born drypaws to be able to explore the river in their own way without being forced to acclimate to it.
• Part of the reason why RiverClan cats were seen as beautiful was because they often adorned their pelts with shells. Shell adornment was easier for cats with thicker or longer fur. RiverClan cats rarely hunted land prey, and were thus expected to never adorn their shoulders, legs, and paws with shells so that the sound of shells clacking together wouldn’t frighten their prey.
• A RiverClan cat’s nest reflected their status. Senior warriors, deputies, and leader’s nests would be laid with the softest moss on it’s inferior, while shells of various sizes, shapes, and colors were woven into the nest’s exterior. Young warriors had some shells, but not too many. Where there wasn’t enough moss, they settled for swan or heron feathers. The nests of queens and elders were more focused on warmth, so while their nests lacked the opalescence of many of their Clanmates’, their nests were lined with a mixture of dense moss and feathers.
• Swimming in raging waters was never one of RiverClan’s customs, as cats from other Clans believed. Instead, cats hunt pikes and magpies as an (optional) rite of passage. Many cats avoid it due to the pike’s power and the magpie’s reputation for their ruthless assaults.
SKYCLAN:
• In ancient SkyClan times, cats believed themselves to be superior to ThunderClan cats, since SkyClan’s founder was the father of ThunderClan’s founder. This sentiment ran deep with Skystar’s SkyClan descendants.
• Unlike in the other Clans, there was no preference to pelt color. Regardless, SkyClan cats were expected to be at home in the trees in their territory. However, SkyClan names were commonly named after weather elements, birds, and trees. At a point, Oakkit and Cloudkit were the most popular kit names. The suffix -leap was the most popular in terms of warrior names.
• SkyClan cats were identified by their muscular haunches and narrow tails. A SkyClan cat’s tail served as their pride and joy; if the tail was maimed or amputated, they could no longer safely climb trees and hunt above ground.
• Feathers were a large part of SkyClan’s relationship with decoration. Every cat had some sort of feather to adorn their pelts or their nests. Because of this, SkyClan relied more heavily on birds than other land or tree prey.
• SkyClan cats believed themselves to share the same spirits as birds, and killing one for any purpose unrelated to food was strictly forbidden and seen as an act of disrespect towards StarClan itself.
• SkyClan medicine cats often skipped visits to the Moonstone, choosing to convene with their ancestors by climbing to the top of a high tree, finding a reliable branch that could support their weight, and meditated. The idea of going beneath ground both terrified and disgusted SkyClan cats. Because of this, half-moon meetings only contained ThunderClan, WindClan, RiverClan, and ShadowClan medicine cats. Any new SkyClan medicine cat apprentice would have to wait until the next Gathering. This practice died out when SkyClan was rebuilt & they reunited with the other four Clans by the lake.
• SkyClan warriors were taught mimicry, a skill kept secret from the other four Clans. From a young age, part of a SkyClan cat’s training was to sit and listen to a specific species of bird, learning how to mimic its calls. Before they were exiled from the forest territories, SkyClan warriors would make bird sounds from the trees to mask their presence before dropping onto unexpected trespassers and enemies. Although this practice was discontinued during SkyClan’s exile, it was brought back thanks to a joint effort from Sparrowpelt and Cherrytail.
These are all excellent, I love them so much!
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SP34First Fits Kit in JewlRyBox + Patterns!
I lost my job last week, and while I'm on the job hunt and fighting with unemployment, I'm going to be keeping my brain cool by busting ass on recolors. This set hit a few snags early on but I finally got it all worked out. In here you will find everything from the First Fits kit except the layered dress, which I already recolored and you can find on my blog or here on patreon, in the JewlRyBox palette PLUS my collection of coordinated patterns for the palette.
Almost every shirt has overlays found in Index Finger Left, in plain with a rainbow swatch on the end, and (some, but not all) in patterns. The sweater with backpack (blue) has a second overlay in Index Finger Right to change the pompom keychain color as well. Many recolors have been split so the swatch count isn't so high; standalones are marked with the kit requirement so they are easy to find in CAS, and all of these + all of the overlays have custom thumbnails.
(for anyone asking: the pink shorts with heart belt are from Cats and Dogs, and the black skirt is by Powluna!)
I've had to break the file into chunks for easier downloading here, but you can get the whole collection at one of my alternate links below.
Patreon Download (always free!)
Google Drive || SFS (note that these folders have all of my EA recolors, so be sure you're grabbing what you want!)
@maxismatchccworld @mmoutfitters @childandtoddlercc @thejewlbox
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butter or shade for the ask game please!
YAY, the perfect chance to remember Only for October!!
It happens not far from the doors of the Great Hall, the chatter of the room spilling out over them in an excited wave.
Harry’s magic blurs, his thoughts going with it.
He stops, and both hands go to his chest. “Wait. This isn’t—shit.” Harry turns back so suddenly that he bumps into Draco’s shoulder, half-tripping over one of Draco’s feet. Draco grabs him by the elbow to steady him. “Sorry, I—”
“Where are you going?”
Harry blinks at him, his expression flying through a complicated pattern. Draco catches shock and worry and confusion and his stomach drops under the cold weight of recognition.
No—that’s not what it is. Whatever this is, it’s something else.
He shakes it off and rubs briskly at Harry’s arm. “Did you forget something upstairs?”
Harry opens his mouth. Draco’s not rifling through his mind, not at all. Harry’s all but handed him a photo. The image is that clear.
His Quidditch kit.
And not the kit he wears when he’s supervising practices. The kit Harry has now is largely the same as the student kits—so is Draco’s—and though the silhouette has been slightly updated since they left school, that’s not what stands out in the memory.
What stands out is that the kit is laid out on an unmade four-poster in Gryffindor colours.
Harry doesn’t live in the dormitories anymore.
“My—” He blinks hard. “My flying clothes. But we’re not flying today, so I don’t need—” Colour rushes into his face. “We’re not flying today, so there’s no need to wait until the match is over.”
“Is that so?” Draco frowns at him. Harry’s cheeks get another shade darker. “I wouldn’t trouble yourself with it, if I were you.”
“I’m troubled.”
“Whose choice is it, in the end?” Draco runs his fingertips down to Harry’s wrist and circles it. From the low sound Harry makes, it reminds him strongly of the cock ring. “Yours or mine?”
Harry’s mouth forms the shape of the word, but he has to clear his throat to make it audible. “Yours.”
“That’s right.”
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“controversial opinion alastair carstairs has potentially had the hardest life out of any of the main characters in the shadowhunters universe so far” now you may be thinking to yourself “WHOA tumblr user thepictureofsdr back it up there, that is an incredibly bold, broad, and obnoxious take” HOWEVER i have a case to make.
(disclaimer this isn’t taking into account the villains or immortal characters while i personally understand cringe teenager psychology i cannot personally understand the psychology of people over 300 nor those with murderous urges, im not finished my degree. one more disclaimer in the notes)
there is one singular thing that i think sets alastair apart from any of his other mc shadowhunter colleagues: the fact that he has been alone his whole life.
you can pluck any mc from any cassie series and create a web of support for them, whether it be family or friends, whether the characters believe they have that support system or deserve it or not, that support is STILL THERE. at all points in TMI, clary, jace, alec, izzy, and simon were all there for each other. alec was pretending to believe jace was evil in coa? izzy was staunchly defending jace. clary had a falling out with the others? she had simon. this pattern continues into the books, with gideon and gabriel being forgiven by institute and allowed a place to heal, with jem and will each going through hell but having each other and then having tessa, with the blackthorn siblings having each other to fall back on (including emma), with kit finding a home in LA and then with the carstairs, with the merry thieves considering each other brothers, with cordelia spilling her heart out to lucie, hell even grace had jesse. obviously i haven’t named every character but you get the trend im going for. every character has had SOMEONE, a friend, a significant other, a parabatai, a sibling, the rare parent.
then we have alastair. he had a roughly normal childhood for a few years despite the moving around, having a healthy relationship with his baby sister. but then he turned 10, something changed and he lost everything. on top of having moved around a lot and not having a single stable friend, in a way, he lost his sister and parents. it’s impossible to have a carefree sibling relationship when you’re actively giving up your life and time to protect them. it is by no means cordelias fault that their relationship was lost, but its a sad truth. he loses that reliable open sibling relationship, he loses that relationship with his father, and his mother ceases to be a mother and becomes more a coworker in this panic to keep the family afloat. by taking on this adult role so early on in life he loses the innocence and unconditional reliability of those relationships, and he seemingly never turns to them for comfort ever again, with cordelia only finding out about part of his emotional ordeals in cog, and even then he doesn’t burden her with everything. with this breakdown of the parental units and relationship as well as being isolated, alastair also loses his only example of what a healthy romantic relationship should look like, he has no real idea how a partner should act, which we know will come into play later. let’s also not forget how the one family member that could’ve helped, jem, was actively pushed away by elias who raised his children to not trust silent brothers for his own personal selfish needs.
then he goes to school, desperate for friends and what does he get? a year of verbal and physical bullying, with rumours being spread about his family and bruises slowly covering him. he then has to spend years pretending he’s awful just to survive and by some miracle he gets out and makes 1 (one) singular friend who then publicly friend breaks up with him by threatening to throw him in a river at an engagement party attended by what i assume is the entire enclave (thank you matthew). THEN (yes this tragedy is still going) we get to one of the most unsettling relationships in the series, mostly because the bizarreness of it is just… never addressed? we get alastair and charles who were together in 1902 when they wouldve been about 18 and 23, meaning we got a man who would’ve graduated college by then going after someone who would have just graduated high school… on top of that it was an incredibly toxic relationship with charles making him feel as though he were worthless and a dirty secret and centered the entire relationship around him, his own schedule, his needs, his wants, never making time for anything on alastair’s terms. on top of the love sick teenager syndrome, alastair had never personally witnessed a healthy relationship so on top of that AND being desperate for the closeness and intimacy and support he’d gotten from no one before, he had no way of knowing he was being treated badly, he didn’t know any better until much later, after witnessing charles propose to not one but TWO GIRLS while still keeping alastair sidelined.
so to summarize, alastair has never had a lasting, appropriate, healthy, unconditional, relationship with 1. a parent 2. a sibling 3. a friend 4. a significant other 5. family. he has never been loved for the sake of being loved, hes never had someone care for him because he simply exists, everyone wants something from him and he’s never felt what its like to be truly cared for. for every trauma he has endured, for every night he went out as a child to find his drunken father passed out in a bar to drag him home, for every beating he suffered as a school boy, for every friendship that crumbled to nothing, for every time his only relationship used him and sent him to sleep unsure of his worth, he didn’t have a single person. there was no jem to assure him that no matter his faults he deserved love, no cecily to hand out forgiveness and remind him to not dwell on the past, to just move forward, no julian to turn to when he couldn’t hold up anymore, no izzy to tell him he deserves better or to point out the flaws in how he’s treated, no alec to let him rest and defend him, he has never experienced those healthy dynamics.
not only has he been dealt an awful set of cards, hes never had a single person to help him through life to the point where hes not only alone but the few relationships he does experience actively cause him more problems and pain. mind you this post doesn’t even really address the main traumas he endures this is just the breakdown of his relationships so just mentally add on his MAIN story to all of this… everything elias made him endure, all the bullshit the thieves throw in his face, every time hes given up his life for the sake of someone else… this is just the background to all of that.
in short i think alastair has had one of the hardest lives maybe even the hardest, not because i think hes suffered the worst traumas of all or i think he wins the sadness games, but because he has never had a single person to help him through what he’s experienced, to love him because he exists, never had a single person to care for him through it all and not only is he aware of this tragedy, he thinks he deserves it. he pushes people away, keeps his walls up, thinks he doesn’t deserve love from others, thinks he is too damaged and twisted to burden someone with his existence, and despite his genuinely kind soul, he still thinks he’s cruel and awful and deserving of nothing, but are we surprised? its not like he has anyone to tell him otherwise.
#disclaimer this is lighthearted i dont agree with pain olympics i just want to draw attention to the hell alastair has been forced to endure#obviously opinions can vary this is just my personal take on the series and as someone who heavily values having people around me i think#perpetuatal aloneness would make a life harder than most#i personally feel all traumas are easier to handle knowing youre not alone but if you dont agree? amazing please tell me your opinion#JUST PLEASE DONT BE MEAN TO ME I AM S E N S I T I V E#chain of iron#chain of thorns#the last hours#chain of gold#the shadowhunter chronicles#tsc#tlh#the infernal devices#tid#alastair carstairs#thomastair#thomas lightwood#sdr hc#sdr essay
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At some point when little Willy Murderface was in elementary school, friendship bracelets made of embroidery floss became really popular. It started with just the girls, but the hype was so big that even the boys got into the fad, of course only using ‘masculine’ colors and not putting on any ‘girly’ beads or charms. It seemed like everybody in his class was making and swapping bracelets all day and some kids had dozens on each wrist. He really wanted to do it, too, to be like the other kids and show them that he was cool just like they were. The problem was that he didn’t know how to braid anything, and he didn’t have any friends to teach him. He couldn’t ask his grandmother; that would be too embarrassing and she probably wouldn’t help anyways. So Willy would stare at the girls who made the best bracelets at recess while they braided, trying to understand the mechanics of what they were doing (and effectively creeping them out).
Over a weekend, he found some string and practiced and practiced for hours until he finally figured out how to make a braid, or something close enough. Then he raided his grandmother’s dusty sewing kit for thread. He painstakingly made a bracelet for everyone in his class, even trying to use their favorite colors if he knew what they were.
On Monday he took all the bracelets he’d made to school with him in a paper sack. All morning he felt sick and nervous, but when recess came around, he stayed behind and put a friendship bracelet on each of the other kids’ desks. When the class went back inside, the others were all surprised and started trying to figure out who’d done it.
It didn’t take long to puzzle out that it was Willy since he’d been weird all day and was the only one late to recess.
At lunch one of the most popular kids in class was bold enough to walk right up to him while he was eating his tuna sandwich, drop the gift on the table and tell him that they didn’t want a friendship bracelet from him and he hadn’t done a very good job, anyway. It started a wave of returns. A few people gave the bracelet he’d made for them back, a lot just shoved them into his desk, but he saw a few in the trash can. The other kids laughed at him and made comments about how ugly his bracelets were.
He was so hurt and humiliated that he begged his grandma not to send him to school the next day, even told her that he was sick, but she made him go anyways.
So, I was having a bad hair day, which got me thinking about hair textures and wave patterns. This made me think about my mtlOC, Emie. I always depict her with wavy hair. I got to wondering if it just grows like that. I decided that, yes, she has naturally wavy hair, but that she likes to put her hair in a braid at night just to make it easier to style in the mornings and to help her hair not get crushed flat while she sleeps.That made me think about Murderface. Murderface has that gruff exterior, but we all know he’s clingy underneath. He’d definitely hang around her while she gets ready for bed, watching her braid her hair. I like to imagine that they do a lot of physical care for eath other, lots of intimacy in non-sexual ways. I wondered if he’d ever try to help. This thought got in my head that wouldn’t go away and made me sad so I decided to share the misery. Sorry this isn’t really written in a creative way. If anybody wants to roll with it and take it somewhere, please feel free.
#william murderface#rough#dethklok#metalocalypse#story#little willy was just trying to be included but he made himself a target for ridicule#feels bad man#bullying#exclusion
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