#keith vaguely knows what’s going on

[vldsideblog]

So you’ve heard of “Lance talks about Keith and Spanish and Keith has no idea what’s going on” a beloved classic

But I bring you “Keith’s a born and raised Texan, (Texas has one of the highest Spanish speaking populations in the US) who was also partially raised by Adam who spoke Spanish around the house a lot. And so he understands most of what Lance is saying but is to embarrassed to admit he knows that Lance has talked about how soft his hair looked on at least three separate occasions “

[loveinhawkins]

The birthday gift Robin gets from her parents is that they’re gonna help her fund a three month solo trip to Paris. Steve thinks she should be delivering this news with much more excitement than she currently is.

“Okay, but you’re going, right?” he says, as she bites her nails for the third time. When she doesn’t reply, he lifts his eyes to the heavens, despairing. “Oh my god, are you kidding? Robin, you’ve wanted this for—”

“Years,” she confirms, so quietly. “I want—” She swallows. “I want it so badly, Steve.”

He pauses, drops their usual teasing schtick. “Okay,” he says, a little softer. “What’s going on?”

“It’s just…” She moves her hand away from her mouth, tugs on a hangnail. “What if—what if something… happens. And I’m not…” She gestures vaguely. “Not here.”

Steve slings an arm over her shoulder. “Rob,” he says, “nothing’s gonna happen.”

Robin nods. “I know, I know.”

But then she sighs, and Steve understands: it’s one thing to know something objectively, another thing to feel the certainty in your bones.

He has a wave of gratitude for Robin’s parents, for them knowing that she needs this, for letting her have a year out, maybe even two, without judgement. It’s something they all need, really, in different ways: some time to let the weight of everything settle, to catch their breath.

Steve’s honestly been relishing the mundanity of it all, the comfort of routine—easy days where the biggest ‘disaster’ is him being late for their opening shift at Family Video.

“Keith’s keeping your job open for you, right?” Steve asks, just in case that’s a sticking point.

Robin nods again, laughing. “Yeah, mom arranged that all before she even booked the flights. Well, I think she just basically told him that—”

“So it’s gonna be a super long vacation.” Steve gives her knee a reassuring little shake, before tickling the back of it. “Jesus, Robin, if you don’t go, I’ll go for you.”

Robin snorts and wiggles out of his grip. “Shut up.”

“And I’ll speak French so badly that I’ll just get banned for life, like, right outta the gate, it’ll be tragic—”

“I’ve got the picture, dingus,” she says, and she’s smiling—finally, finally there’s a spark of excitement in her eyes.

And that excitement only grows as her flight date gets closer, as she calls Steve the week before, begging him to be the one to take her to the airport, because, “My dad took one look at my suitcase and burst into tears, please Steve, the man can’t do this.”

And then Steve’s pulling up to her driveway, and she’s already waiting for him, perched on her suitcase. She’s wearing a cobalt blue beret, and Steve loves her so much he thinks his heart might burst with it.

For a while, it’s all grins and laughter, Steve giggling every time he edges out of the driveway, and Robin’s mom stops him, frantically waving, asking if Robin’s got everything, did you pack that other coat, honey?

Then it feels like time rushes forward—they’re at the airport, and Steve gets out of the car to fetch Robin’s case from the trunk, but she’s already got it, is already standing in the parking lot, eyes wide.

“What’s gonna happen now?” she whispers.

Steve’s heart clenches; the last time she’d asked that had been as they sped to the hospital, Robin gripping his hand so tightly as Eddie lay unconscious.

Steve puts both hands on her shoulders. “You’re gonna have the best time,” he says, deadly serious, “and then you’re gonna come back and tell me all about it.”

She laughs, right on the edge of becoming tearful. “O-okay.” She blinks several times.

“Don’t,” Steve says, faux-warningly, “or you’ll set me off, too.”

And it’s only partly a joke.

“Okay,” Robin says again, and then she’s hugging Steve tight, pressing a damp kiss to his cheek. “I’ll miss you.”

“God, me too. Every day.” Steve rocks her back and forth, makes sure her beret doesn’t get dislodged with the force of the hug.

When they break apart, Robin picks up her case—she pauses, then grins.

“Now, if you’ll just point me in the right direction…”

Steve chuckles. He spins her around so she’s facing the airport, then pats her on the back.

She starts walking.

Steve stays right where he is; he knows she’ll look back right at the last second—ah, there she goes. He shakes his head, laughs. Waves.

He drives back alone.

When he gets home, he barely has time to even think about it, because the kids have biked over after school, clamouring for him to order pizza from the moment he opens the front door, and Eddie’s shrugging apologetically with a grin, and it’s only later that Steve realises that the whole thing was probably coordinated beforehand.

And he’s fine, really, he’s absolutely fine until he steps into the hall to use the phone, and he unthinkingly orders the pizza him and Robin usually share: one half with pepperoni, the other half with mushrooms.

And then he has to finish the rest of the phone call with a lump in his throat, and when he hangs up, Eddie is watching him with a sad kind of smile.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

“Don’t. Don’t be nice to me, goddamn it.” Steve shuts his eyes. “I was fine, I was fine.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Eddie knocks their foreheads together gently. “I’ll miss her, too.”

And God, missing Robin does hurt, but it’s nothing compared to the joy Steve feels whenever he receives a letter from her. He laughs himself stupid the first time, because instead of just using sheets of paper, she’s sent multiple postcards wrapped in an elastic band, her handwriting all squished so she can fit everything in.

She writes like she talks, all rambling enthusiasm, and Steve cherishes every word.

He can tell she’s having so much fun. She enthuses about little cafés she’s found, a bookstore near Notre Dame; she spends multiple pages on art galleries, how she has the time to wander, to look at a painting again and again until the meaning reveals itself, it was like when I solved that ‘crossword’ in the mall, it suddenly just clicked, you know? I need you here next time, you’ll look at it from another angle, I wanna know what you think.

She sends Polaroids, too. There’s one of her in a white shirt with a trilby hat at a jaunty angle—Steve can tell she’s been in the sun, because there’s freckles all over the bridge of her nose. On the back of the photograph, she’s written Had a carefree kiss!

And Steve cries when he reads it, because he knows what it means: that Robin’s often spoken wistfully about how she’s never got to have that fleeting summer kind of love, where nothing is all that serious.

But she’s still so young, and life is finally light, and she gets to have it now.

Other photographs are sent to Eddie, with instructions that he should translate the French Robin’s written on them, à force de pratique, on y arrive, mon cher Édouard!

“I said literally once that French at school wasn’t, like, the worst,” Eddie says, pouting. “Didn’t realise that meant she was gonna torture me from across the world.” He frowns at a picture of Robin petting a grey cat, a bowl of food at its little paws. “And I tried translating whatever the fuck she’s written here, but I can’t work it out.”

“Not even a guess?” Steve says.

“I mean, yeah, but it sounds so stilted, man, I know it’s wrong. Like, who actually says where the silver cat feeds—you dick, stop laughing! What’s so funny?”

Two months pass, and Robin’s back soon, but not soon enough to catch Steve’s birthday. It’s not like he wants to have a huge party, anyway—he goes to Wayne and Eddie’s for dinner, and discovers Dustin leading a not-so successful ‘secretly bake a birthday cake,’ meeting at Max’s.

Everyone’s on their second slice of cake when the phone rings, and Steve knows instantly who it is from the way Eddie shouts, “Huh? What?”, like there’s a delay on the line. Then he beams and shouts, “Steve! Got a long distance call for you.”

Steve’s over in a flash.

“I promise I’ve got you something,” Robin says, slightly muffled—every so often a word will cut out, but Steve gets the gist. “I swear, I’m not awful, I was gonna post it, but then I had no idea how many stamps I’d need, and I didn’t wanna risk losing it forever to, like, the nightmare limbo of customs, so I thought when I come back, I can—”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Steve laughs, “you didn’t need to get me anything. This is the best present ever.”

“Oh, gross,” Robin says cheerfully. “You’re all sentimental in your old age. Happy Birthday, Steve.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, and the lump in his throat is back, but it’s not so bad; he can breathe through it. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

And then there’s a sound that Steve at first thinks is just from the bad quality of the line, but then he realises it’s Robin trying to stifle a yawn; “Wait, Jesus, isn’t it, like, two in the morning over there? Go to bed!”

She doesn’t listen, of course—they keep chatting, everyone in the room wants a turn on the phone, Robin teasing Eddie relentlessly for his French pronunciation.

And as Steve ends the call, he finds that the hurt of missing her has faded away into something else—knowing that there’ll be comings and goings in their lives all the time, adventures they’ll share and adventures they won’t. But they’ll always, always find their way back to one another.

Steve sets the phone into its cradle, pictures Robin doing the very same so many miles away.

Yeah, we’re gonna be just fine, you and me, Steve thinks, and feels the certainty of it right in his bones.

[autisticlancemcclain]

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing.”

Vaguely, Lance registers that he’s far too loud, that his dead-of-night shout has people peeking out their doors, rubbing groggy eyes. He knows he should tone it down and handle this gracefully and he meant to, thought about it in the hour or so he spent crouched but his door, waiting, straining his ears for the sound of Keith’s silent footsteps, convinced something would go down tonight.

Correct.

Keith jumps, duffel bag slipping off his shoulder and thumping as it hits the floor. He whirls around to meet Lance’s eyes and the shock melts quickly into stubbornness, into something defensive and irritated.

“Go back to bed, Lance,” he says evenly, and Lance envisions punching him. Lance envisions gripping the sleeve of his jacket and holding him in place. Both visions fight for standing ground in his mind, blurring into each other. His fists curl at his sides and he has to hold himself back, physically, root himself in place.

He thinks about saying, I know you’re afraid.

He thinks about saying, you will always have a place here.

He thinks about saying, please don’t leave me.

He says, “You’re running,” and it comes out sharp and accusatory, and there is a hiss from somewhere beside them, quick inhale through the teeth, but the world feels narrow, blurry around the edges, and Keith is the only one in focus, the only one Lance can see.

Keith’s face drops into something menacing, something as flat as it is furious, something familiar and almost comforting.

“Coward,” Lance spits before he can say anything. The cruelty of the words leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and he relishes in it, sucking it off his teeth.

He watches as Keith’s shoulders shift, an aborted lunge, as his chest inhales and exhales with a measured and practice breath. Watches as he calms himself, visibly, yanks himself back from the edge. Lance prepares to yank him right the hell back.

(Anything to keep him from going. To distract him, enrage him, occupy him.)

(Anything to make him stay.)

“You don’t know a goddamn thing about me,” Keith says, angry and short, less fiery than Lance expected, more controlled than he’s ever seen.

Lance panics. Keith tears his eyes away and bends down, wrapping his hand around the forgotten duffel bag strap, swinging it back over his shoulder. He turns and walks — stomps — away, heading down the hall, towards the hangars. Leaving.

Lance loses control of his mouth. A sound fights its way out of his throat, something croaking and furious and desperate, and like a cork shooting off a champagne bottle there is nothing he can do to stop what comes next.

“Your voice cracks when you lie.”

The anger has practically fled from his voice. In its place is pleading, begging, vulnerable. He chokes it back and tries to swallow and it does nothing, it bubbles out of him, spilling down his face and dripping onto the floor and soaking his bare feet, the ankles of his silk pajama pants. It comes all the way back up to his neck and chokes him, instead.

Keith freezes.

The champagne keeps bubbling.

“You — duck your head when you smile. And when you’re confident you snap your fingers on your left hand. When you read you mouth along to the words, except when you get really into a book, which is always, and then you stop. You always end up hiccuping after you eat because you fucking — hoover them back, you animal.“

Lance sniffles. The lump in his throat gets harder and harder to speak around, but the urge didn’t go away, the intense need to spill his guts, to slice himself open and spill at the ground by Keith’s feet.

Stay. Stay. Stay.

“You’re not as elusive as you think, you fucker.”

He forces himself to stop, then, bites his tongue until he tastes blood, until the words stop flowing. He inhales big and long and holds it, lets the air go stale in his lungs, lets his heart start to pound.

“I want to go,” Keith says, back still turned.

His voice cracks on ‘want’.

Lance gasps an exhale. “You’re a fucking liar.”

Keith’s turn is slow, and Lance can’t help but think it’s on purpose. To torture him, to test him. To say I don’t believe you. To say when I turn back you’re going to break character.

It’s heartbreaking, a little. And the heartbreak is written all over Lance’s face, and he watches as Keith sees it.

“You saw the problem first,” Keith argues, weakly. Lance hears what he doesn’t say: I’m leaving or else you’ll have to.

And Lance knows he was the one to go to Keith with his pinky finger extended and wide worried eyes. He knows he was the one who planted the idea of leaving in Keith’s head, never meaning for him to be the one to go but expecting him to try anyway. He knows he’s the one who’s standing here, in the middle of the hallway, arguing around the subject, half-conscious of his friends’ stares, their acknowledgment that more is being said than just their words.

And Lance shoves that all back, and says: “I told you I’d be your Red.”

Paladin. Your Red Paladin. But the words don’t come all the way out.

Keith swallows. “I know.”

“I won’t be anyone else’s.”

“…I know.”

Lance’s hands shake. “So you can’t leave me, you motherfucker.”

The duffel drops to the floor again. This time it’s intentional. This time it’s shoved off Keith’s shoulders.

He takes three great strides forward, grasping Lance’s face in his perpetually burning hands, and shoves their lips together, bruising.

“If I leave then the math checks out,” he whispers, pulling back, eyes closed, breathing heavy. His forehead is pressed to Lance’s like he can beam his thoughts into his brain.

Lance sighs. “If you leave I’ll follow.” His eyes flutter shut. “You goddamn suck at math.”

Keith snorts. “A little.”

“Stop trying to fix my problems without me.”

“It’s — I want to. Fix your problems.”

“I want you here.”

“…Okay.”

“Promise me, Keith.”

“Okay,” Keith says again, quieter. “I’ll stay, Red.” He kisses Lance again and this time it’s soft, loving instead of desperate. “I’ll stay.”

———

animatic by @jiveyuncle

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU pt 57

part 1 | part 56 | ao3

“I need a ride.”

Max is glaring at him over the counter with a skateboard tucked under her arm, no hello and no further explanation because why should he deserve one? Seriously, what is this? National Annoy Your Babysitter Day?

Steve leans over his side of the desk and rests his weight on his forearms, giving her an unimpressed look. "Did Dustin put you up to this?"

"To... needing a ride?" she asks him like he's stupid. God. All these kids are little assholes.

"Uh, yeah to needing a ride." He straightens up, crossing his arms over his chest and resting a hip against the counter. "How do I know this isn't some convenient little-" he snaps his fingers for the word "-little scheme you shitheads cooked up to get me to sub in for Hellfire?"

"Steve," she says with feeling. Tucks her chin and holds his gaze. "Do I look like a dork to you?"

And, like, he can’t not take the opportunity, right? She handed it to him on a platter. He scans his eyes over her face, playing it up and humming to himself like he's just really not sure, like he needs another minute to think hard about the question.

"Oh, screw you!" She flips him the bird, but he can tell she's trying not to smile because he’s doing the same thing. Can feel himself caving already like a total softie. Something about these kids, man.

"Okay," he says; feels his face doing something tender and vaguely pathetic. He can't have her thinking he's gone too soft, though — that's how he ends up with another 'unlicensed teen driving his car while he's concussed' situation on his hands — so he pushes off the counter, widening his stance and pointing at her. "I’ll give you a ride, but you can't touch my radio.”

"Fine."

"And I'm dropping you off by 5:30."

That one, she protests. "Five-thirty?”

"Five-three-oh. I have a date tonight."

"Ew."

Wow. The goddamn entitlement. Like he isn’t doing her a huge favor right now. "So what I'm hearing is that you don't want that ride after all."

"I didn't say that," she says in a low rush.

"Mhmm." He glances down at the clock. "My shift's up in ten minutes. You can hang out in here while I finish up if you don't make a mess."

"Oh, if I don't make a mess?" she mocks. "Wow. So generous."

"Thank you," he answers. He goes back to working, keeping an eye on her browsing the aisles while he runs through his end-of-shift tasks — wipes down his work space, pulls his drawer. She seems bothered. On edge. Every time he glances over she's either tapping her foot or chewing her lip or throwing tense looks over her shoulder like someone's watching. If Steve didn't know her he'd think she was psyching herself up to shoplift.

But Steve does know her; knows all the crazy, horrifying shit that she's seen.

The twitchy way she's moving is starting to give him goosebumps.

When he goes to the back to clock out, to put his stuff up and say hey to Keith, she follows him. Hesitantly calling his name down the hall, a nervous quiver in her voice.

"Steve," she says, poking her head around the office door. Quiet. Urgent. Her face so suddenly pale that she looks carsick.

Keith wipes grease on a stack of reports and says, "Hey, you can't be back here," through a mouthful of chips.

Max ignores him. "Steve, I need to go."

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, one second, just gotta—"

"—No, now."

Steve turns and starts counting his drawer as fast as he can. The numbers jumble in his head. He curses under his breath and starts again. Twenty, forty, sixty, seventy—

"Steve!"

"Okay, Jesus, I'm hurrying!"

Eighty, eighty-five, ninety, ninety-one, two, three—

Max snatches his keyring off of his vest.

“Hey! What the- Max!” he shouts as he chases after her.

She’s already tugging open the driver’s side door by the time he catches up. Got a headstart while he was begging Keith not to fire him for running out without finishing his count.

"What the hell?" he demands, wrapping a hand around the fist she’s holding his stolen keys in.

She glares at him over the car door. “I’ve driven it before.”

“Yeah, and you didn’t have my permission then, either, you little shit.” Steve pries her hand open and takes back the keys. Frowns at her as she sneers right back.

Fucking stalemate with a fourteen year old girl, that’s what Steve Harrington’s life has turned into.

But under the bravado he can see that she's afraid, that something's seriously spooked her, and he needs to know what it is.

“…..Go around,” he sighs and slides into the car.

—

part 58

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[empressgeekt]

Trolls - Branch and Keith Brothers AU

HI!!! I'm back! With more Trolls plot bunnies. This one does not take place in the Prince Char Au, or the Veneer re-carnation one. It's completely separate and closer to canon.

Pre-movie.

Keith is the little trolling who likes to watch his parents sleep, and it's clear by the reactions from his classmates that he's not the most popular kid. A bit of a odd outsider, that finds happiness in things that others don't. There's another troll in Pop village who's a bit of an outsider, our favorite grump, Branch.

Branch would be in the village market one winter day, making some rare purchases rather then getting them from the wilds, when he first comes across Keith. The trolling would've been lost, left behind by his classmates. Branch would be a little confused by the kids blankness, but he isn't going to leave a kid lost in the snow, and helps Keith get back home to his dad. One the way he asks if this, keith getting left behind, happened often. Keith would blankly gripe about it, and how he thought his friends didn't actually like him, and he didn't think he liked them. Branch says that friends should like each other.

Couple of weeks later, Branch is working on gathering supplies, and Keith appears out of no where, then continues to follow the grey troll. When Branch asks what Keith is doing. Keith says, "You said befriend people I like." "Yeah so?" "I like you."

It throws Branch off, no one liked him.

Keith would continue to find and follow Branch for the next few days, it's only after a chance run in with a predator, that the grey troll realizes this kid isn't going away, and he starts training Keith in the ways of survival. Even more shockingly Keith listens to him when he's teaching. Everyone in the village always called Branch crazy with his survival bunker and apocalypse prep, but Keith listens intently. Even if it doesn't appear like it. Branch teaches Keith about, the forest, which fruits were safe to eat and where/when they grew. How to defend yourself from different type dangerous predators. And even about some of the extra traps and defenses Branch made for the village.

Branch gets used to his new little protégée, and honestly likes being able to pass on his knowledge to someone. He eventually learns to read the subtle differences in Keith's expressionless expressions to know how the kid's mood is, whether it's happy or upset. One day, Keith comes to visit Branch upset. Seeing the kid angry makes something in Branch's stomach turn, and he has this need to fix it. He doesn't know how, he hasn't comforted someone in years. So, pulling from vague memories of Floyd helping him when Branch was upset, he asks Keith what's wrong. Keith's upset about the other kids calling his school project weird. They were supposed to make a short presentation on people, they care about and Keith chose Branch. None of the kids would listen to him and said, that Branch was weirdo, and Keith was weirdo and they deserved each other. It made Keith Mad, because, he doesn't think Branch is weird, he thinks the Grey troll is cool and he doesn't want people to be mean to him. Branch does his best to console, Keith saying that sometimes people just don't agree with you no matter how hard you try to convince them, sometimes people just can't hear you.

K: Some times it feels like no one hears me

B: Yeah, I get that. it sucks, Makes you think their something wrong with you. But there isn't. Different doesn't mean bad, it just means you see things other don't.

Keith hugs Branch, and he can't turn the kid away. It's the first person the grey troll hugs in nearly twenty years.

K: Thank you, Branch

B: No problem kid, I'm always here.

K: I've always wanted a brother.

After this, Branch fully is attached. He goes all out for Keith any chance he gets. He's always there if Keith is upset, or to help with home work. Keith is one of the few people Branch allows in the Bunker. Branch makes sure, that he'd be the brother to Keith that his own were never to him. Always there.

Especially when Keith suddenly loses his dad. Branch fights and fights hard to keep Keith, knowing just how much the grief of losing a caretaker is crushing the kid. Unsurprisingly, the Pop trolls foster system fails Keith and eventually Branch gains his custody. "Let the outsider raise an outsider." Keith moves into the bunker, and Branch is with the trolling no matter what, making sure that this kid never goes Grey like he did. Though, waking up to Keith just staring at him is a little startling at first, but branch gets over it, anything to make the kid more comfortable.

By the events of the first movie, Keith has fully moved in with Branch and stays with him during the Chef's attack. And after the whole village is hidden in the bunker by Poppy, Keith pushes Branch to go after her. Peppy stepping up to watch over Keith while Branch is gone. All through out the mission Branch is thinking about Keith, worried how he's fair one his own, because while he can trust Peppy to make sure Keith doesn't die, he doesn't' trust the king to take care of Keith's mental health. They're reunion in the bergan pot is a hard one. On one hand, Branch is happy to have Keith back in sight, but on the other he feels like a failure for not being able to protect Keith from getting eaten. And When Keith goes grey in his arms...let's just say Branch isn't going down with out a fight.

I have no plans for World Tour, other then the possibility of Keith ending up captured with Poppy, and Barb mistaking Keith as her and Branch's son.

Its in Band together that things get a little more interesting...

Keith is Gristle and Bridget's ring bearer, though the rings are to big for him to hold, so he just stands inside of them to keep them from rolling away, with a very flat smile. Poppy and Branch end up dating in this two, and she does put in effort to get to know Keith, understanding that the trolling would be in branch's care for years to come. She's not as good at reading him, but she's getting better at it. And she finds Branch's caregiver side, adorable.

"Stop the Wedding!"

When John Dory shows up, Keith leaves his post, and runs to Branch after the elder troll was finished being man handled, bY JD. John is thrown off by the sight of a tiny Trolling in Branch's Arms. Seriously, when did his baby brother get a baby? Or a girlfriend? Was the kid theirs? Oh crap he missed a lot....

Keith is angry, through out the course of the third movie. Branch had already told him about their (yes, their, Keith is branch's brother now, which sadly makes him also related to these idiots) brothers, and how they all walked out on him. Keith has seen how much this hurt Branch, and how much they are hurting Branch now, he's clinging to his older brother all through out the mission.

Bruce is also shocked, and kind of feels bad, because Keith would be in Branch's hair when Bruce tossed him jostling the trolling. But he likes kids, so quickly warms up to the idea of Keith being a new baby brother. Even if he creeps Bruce out. And Keith is constantly creeping him out on purpose...thought Bruce doesn't realize it.

Keith doesn't like the hustle button.

Clay is scared of Keith. Because thanks to living with Branch the trolling can point out all of his safety measures and traps, understand how the work, and how to out smart them.

While practicing, John tries to get Keith toe join in but the trolling will only sing the words in the same flat stale note. Branch knows he's messing with john (Keith naturally sings flat but he's not that tone deaf) but doesn't say anything. Keith is hugging Branch all through out the fight, and along with poppy promises to not leave.

Floyd's too tired to really notice Keith until after he's rescued, however he's curious about the trolling. He feels proud watching Branch take care of trolling, but it also makes his stomach churn. Watching Branch with Poppy and Keith it feels like he's looking in on a family that Branch built and he missed it. Floyd would move into the bunker continuing his recovery, and during that is where he really interacting with Keith. He finds the kid adorable, not in the sparkly eyes way that Branch was but utterly adorable none the less. Keith becomes family to him too.

The fic would conclude with All the brother's accepting the fact that Branch and Keith are a package deal, and apologizing to branch for abandoning him (Keith and Poppy don't let them get away with shit). There's no long five brothers in Brozone, but six....and at least three sister-in-law...

[shybunnie20]

Eddie Munson x Alt!Fem!Reader

★Teaser ★My Masterlist

Summary: Eddie seeks Steve's assistance in wooing you, but it doesn’t go the way he planned.

Author's Note: This was so fun to write! I don’t think it turned out particularly angsty tbh. There's a little bit of Halloween in it, 'tis the season.

Proofread to an extent. 90s AU with no Upside Down. No use of Y/N. Reader is vaguely depicted: wears black, has tattoos and piercings (no amount or locations indicated for either), enjoys spooky movies, and likes metal music. Happy ending!

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: brief mention of alcohol consumption, includes more swearing than usual

The sun hangs low, blowing kisses of dusk through the streaky panes of Family Video. Inside the store, the sporadic popping of kernels sets the tone for the evening shift.

When it comes to this job, unboxing shipments of snacks is the one task that manages to hold Eddie’s fleeting attention, simply because it gives him an excuse to wield a box cutter. Alas, today is not one where a shipment has been delivered. He’s more or less getting paid to hang out and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Leaning beside the register, Eddie lazily flips through a dated issue of Rolling Stone magazine. He’s not even reading the articles, just skimming the pictures.

In the documentary section, Steve is busy restocking the shelves. “I heard Keith’s giving out a plaque for 'Least Productive Employee' this year. If ya ask me, I think you’ve got Robin beat.”

“That’s debatable,” Eddie licks the pad of his finger and flips the page. “You’ve got it handled, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but there’s plenty of stuff that needs to get done before we get slammed tonight.”

“I’m doing my part,” Eddie raises his head and a smirk slowly overtakes his bored expression. “Someone’s gotta keep the front counter company. It gets lonely.”

“Aw, how touching. Of all things, you’ve found true love with a piece of furniture,” Steve scoops up the bucket of go-backs and sidesteps to the neighboring genre. “That’s gotta be the closest thing you’ve ever had to a relationship.”

Burn, but an accurate one. Eddie isn’t a Casanova but there’s nothing wrong with that, not at all. He’s got his hobbies and friends, what point is there in trying to convince the town that he’s up for a little romance? Besides, the absence of encounters means that flirting isn’t in his wheelhouse.

Eddie looks down at the face of his Casio, reading that it’s nearing seven o’clock. “Hey, do we still have a copy of Beetlejuice around?”

“I doubt it. All of the spooky shit has been going like hotcakes since Halloween is right around the corner.”

As customers trickle through the door, Eddie shifts to the computer system and types hurriedly on the keyboard. “Fuck, it’s gotta be here,” He abandons the register and searches the store.

Steve opens a case and snaps it closed, entirely oblivious to the commotion until Eddie whizzes by in his peripheral vision. “Okay, this is a whole new level of obnoxious,” Steve huffs. “Why are you so hell-bent on finding that specific movie?”

“Because she’s probably gonna wanna rent it, and if we don’t have it…” Eddie trails off as he flies by on the other side of the store.

“Cool your jets, turbo,” Steve notices that more people are coming into the store so he waves Eddie over. The last thing they need is a lawsuit because an old lady got plowed down. “Seriously, what gives?”

Wheezing at the end of the aisle, Eddie hunches over and bows his head. He grips his knees for dear life while he tries to catch his breath. “There’s this girl.”

Steve’s feathered brows mirror the nosey tone of his voice. “Who is it? Do I know her?”

“I doubt it,” Eddie coughs. “But she stops in every Friday night.”

“News flash, butthead. It’s the busiest day of the week, that’s not exactly narrowing it down,” Steve feels a creeping presence over his shoulder. Speaking of old ladies; he peeks, just to find an elderly woman encroaching on his personal space to view the titles that he’s blocking. “Sorry,” he says halfheartedly before directing his coworker toward the register with a toss of his head. “Is it Tara P.?”

“Nope,” Eddie follows and plops on the stool furthest from the computer. “She wears a lot of black, has tattoos, piercings-”

Steve shakes his index finger. “Okay, yeah, I know who you’re talking about now. She’s always dressed for a funeral,” He snorts.

“I know, isn’t it hot?” Eddie sighs dreamily while he tugs at his green coil key ring, stretching it as far as it’ll go.

“I mean, if you’re into that kinda thing,” Steve shudders dramatically. “Gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“I’m definitely into that,” Eddie gnaws on the soft pink flesh of his lips as he pauses. “There’s this aura around her, y’know? Not just her looks either, it’s her energy too.”

“Dark and brooding, huh? That’s what gets ya going?” Steve switches to his customer service voice as he checks out the elderly woman with minimal back and forth.

“Yeah, whenever she’s around my hands get all sweaty,” Eddie looks down at his large palms that are growing slick from discussing you. “She hangs out at the bar where I play. God, just seeing her makes my heart sing.”

He loses himself in thinking about seeing you at Wraith. You’re the only one that he strives to impress but he has yet to. You dance to other bands but not Eddie’s. Sometimes you nod your head to the beat, though it’s never enough for you to acknowledge his existence.

“Pass me a barf bag,” Steve gags. “Makes your heart sing?”

“Whatever, dude. It’s not like you’re gettin’ any action with your Harrington charm.”

“Excuse you,” Steve looks at Eddie pointedly. “I almost got that girl’s number on Monday, thank you very much. She was totally digging me.”

“Was she, though? ‘Cause she left without giving you her digits,” Eddie chuckles mockingly and tilts his head. “How many more times do you have to strike out before you finally throw in the towel?”

“That’s rich coming from the guy who canoodles furniture,” Steve scoffs. “Don’t come for my manhood. At least I have the balls to make a move.”

“So many moves, and yet, so few takers!” Eddie throws his head back and laughs boisterously.

“Put a sock in it,” Steve groans.

Speak of the devil. Eddie spots you walking into the store, just as you always do at this time. “Oh god,” He gulps and his joints lock, freezing time and space simultaneously. His mouth is slightly agape as the world comes to a standstill. His vision narrows to a tunnel, rendering him deaf and mute.

Steve snaps his fingers in front of Eddie’s face. “Jesus, man. Try to act somewhat normal,” he rolls his eyes. “If you even know how.”

Eddie does not know how especially not after being literally snapped out of his trance. His palms are clammy, his breathing is rigid, and he’s dizzy as all hell. “Look at her,” He whispers. Christ, you look so fucking pretty today.

“Are you trying to catch flies, dude?”

“No,” Eddie scowls, promptly tightening his lax jaw. “Fuck off.”

Steve takes notice of your figure moving down the aisle and turning in their direction. “Duun dun,” he begins to imitate the Jaws shark theme. “Duuun dun,” As you approach from the other end of the store, Steve gets progressively louder. “Dun dun dun dun dun-”

“Quit!” Eddie barks through gritted teeth and kicks Steve’s calf. “Don’t be an ass.”

“Ow, that was uncalled for,” Steve bends over to rub his leg in an attempt to soothe the ache. 

“Jesus Christ! She’s coming over here,” Eddie paces in the cramped area, nearly colliding with Steve when he pivots. “What the fuck do I do? I don’t know how to be Mr. Cool Guy.”

With your chosen film in hand, you are in fact approaching the register. Steve’s voice becomes discernible as you get nearer. “...if you keep acting like such a wuss. Grow a pair and just-”

“Shut up! Shut it,” Eddie makes it appear as though he’s doing something productive to the snack display, but he’s really just shifting the packets of Skittles around.

“Just this,” you confirm by setting down the tape and digging into your purse. The atmosphere feels tense, to say the least. You’ve clearly interrupted something. It’s plain to see on the other employee’s tomato-red face.

Steve offers a straight-lipped smile and scans your membership card. “Find everything alright?”

You hum in response. While he carries on with the transaction, you notice how peculiarly still the other guy is. “Hello,” you greet him softly, hoping to ease the atmosphere.

Eddie’s hands come to a halt and he looks up at you with wide eyes. “Heh,” He meant to say “hey” but only the first letter made it out alive. As you pay for your purchase, his mouth is still moving and he doesn’t know why. “That’s a good one,” he gestures to the movie.

You startle inwardly, not having anticipated an actual conversation to start. He seems nice enough. “You’re a fan of scary movies too, I take it?”

Eddie nods timidly. He flexes his fingers to combat the overwhelming numbness that’s plaguing his hands. His heart is beating so goddamn hard that it’s on the verge of bursting through his chest and landing wetly at his feet. “Yeah, I like them. They’re good. Really good.”

“Agreed,” While you tuck your wallet away, a polite smile rests on your face. “I was actually in the mood for Beetlejuice but it doesn’t look like you have it,” Your smile falls ever so slightly.

The sight causes Eddie’s pounding heart to twist and plummet to his ass. He’d give you every copy on the planet if he could.

Steve listens in over the sound of your receipt printing. His brows arch in genuine surprise that Eddie knew you’d want that movie tonight. Creepy, but impressive nonetheless. “Sorry about that,” Steve tears the paper from the machine and hands it to you. “Maybe next time.”

“Maybe,” you nod, accept the receipt, and pick up the tape. “Have a good night,” you say to both of them and head out.

Once you’re through the doors, Eddie clutches Steve’s forearm to ground himself in reality.

“Ugh!” Steve yanks his arm away to escape the muggy grasp. “That’s gnarly, man.” 

“Do you believe me now?” Eddie wipes his sopping palms on his jeans.

“Oh, I believe you, especially after witnessing that. I’m pretty sure Henderson has more game than you.”

Eddie returns to the stool with a plop. “Just kill me already,” he rubs his face, sighing. “Put me out of my fucking misery.”

“Don't threaten me with a good time,” Steve laughs to himself. “Anyway, back to Little Miss Dead Inside. What’ve you tried?”

“Nothing,” Eddie drops his hands and slouches in defeat. “I don’t think she even knows my name.”

“You gotta give her a reason to,” Steve continues conversing from over his shoulder while he checks out another customer. “What about notes? Y’know, old-fashioned love notes.”

Eddie scrunches his nose. “I dunno about that.”

“It’s right up your alley, Shakespeare. Besides, the ladies love melodramatic shit like that.”

Eddie suddenly perks up. “Wait, I could be totally anonymous! She could figure it out on her own. That way she comes to me and I don’t even have to approach her.” 

“That’s not what I said at all.”

“This could totally work,” Eddie motions to Steve’s head. “Who woulda thought there’s a few marbles rollin’ around in there.”

“Ha-ha,” Steve continues to slowly but surely shorten the line. “Don’t think I’m helping you.”

“The hell you aren’t,” Eddie hops up on the counter beside the register. He swings his legs with newfound optimism and tears open a package of red vines. “You’re obligated to help since it’s your idea.”

“I absolutely am not, and I have no interest in being inadvertently bitten by some vampire chick. Leave me out of it.”

“C’mon, I’ll owe you big time,” Eddie begs with his mouth full of waxy candy.

“You have to clean the restroom for two weeks,” Steve declares with a smirk.

“No fucking shot,” Eddie points with a half-bitten licorice rope. “Pick something else.”

“Do you want help or not?”

Eddie did indeed want help, so he agreed to the bullshit terms and conditions. He can scrub a toilet, no problemo. Honestly, he’d polish a hundred of them with a toothbrush if that meant you’d step into his life. You’re worth cleaning toilets for.

After closing up shop for the night, Eddie sits at his desk in his bedroom until the early hours. He writes draft after draft, struggling to find words that are forward and inviting without coming on too strong right off the bat.

Upon your arrival the following week, Eddie is shaking like a leaf. He listens to your interaction with Steve while being partially concealed behind a tall cardboard cut-out. Despite not being able to see you, he can see your lips forming the words in his mind. Your voice alone is making him weak in the knees. Eddie’s certain that if you don’t hightail it out of here soon, they’ll buckle and his cover will be blown.

Once he’s certain you’ve left, Eddie releases the breath he’s been holding since you walked in. “How’d it go? She didn’t see you put the note in there, right?”

“Why are you even asking? You eavesdropped the whole time. Yeah, it went fine, she didn’t notice.” Steve grumbles.

“Okay, cool,” Eddie chews on his thumbnail. “Shit, what if she thinks it’s creepy? What if she thinks it’s the lamest thing ever? Fuck, what if-”

“Dude,” Steve closes his eyes and holds his hands out. “You’ve gotta stop.”

In the comfort of your home, you plop down in front of the VCR and open the case that holds the reels of this evening’s entertainment; a movie you’ve rented a few times before, but not enough that you could quote it. Instead of a hard plastic shell, your fingertips find wrinkled notebook paper. Your brows furrow as you inspect it, shredded pieces dangling from where it was yanked from the spiral binding.

You unfold it three times. 

In the aisles of the video store, I've found a treasure unsurpassed. Not on the shelves, but in your eyes, I fell so fast.

It’s a prank, whatever the fuck this is. 

Never in your life have you ever thought about Steve, like, at all. You’re aware of his reputation, that he apparently has the tendency to be douchey and arrogant. But the more you think about it, he’s nothing like that when you interact at Family Video. Maybe he’s not that judgmental and he sees past your midnight exterior. This note is stupidly genuine and endearing. Who would’ve thought he had it in him? Certainly not you.

That’s the thing, though. Steve isn’t your type and you’re certainly not his. But you can’t recall a time when he’s ever looked at you like you’re some kind of freak. Most guys do, that’s something you’ve grown used to over the years and learned to ignore. This poem basks him in a new light, and you’re not quite sure how to process it.

Like clockwork, you’re back again but this time your chest is thrumming. The note could’ve been a fluke or maybe it was meant for someone else, you’re not entirely sure. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to be the intended recipient. Right now, it would be ideal to appear composed but you’re already wearing an unusual expression—a pleasant one—while you make your way to the drama section.

Tonight, it’s Robin and Eddie holding down the fort. As your combat boots scuff across the forest-colored carpet, Eddie can feel your arrival in his bones. He’s immediately seeking you out and when he locates you, he just about faints. Admiring from afar while manning the register, his mind races. Kissing is what’s on the curiosity menu tonight. Eddie wonders what flavor of toothpaste you prefer. If he could just get a little taste…

You meander your way around the shelving and through the dotting of customers. Eddie snaps his head in the opposite direction to avoid being caught staring. The sudden motion causes a pinch in his neck and he winces.

Lost in his own little world for a minute or two, Eddie’s attention is violently brought forward when you place a tape down in front of him. He buffers, noticing how you look subtly disappointed all of a sudden. He can’t imagine why, but he hates it with every cell in his body. Eddie fails to greet you and instead, he stares at your wine-painted fingernails as they tap the surface of the case.

“Is he not here?” You glance around with a lack of determination.

“Steve? Er, no. He called in sick,” He clears his throat harshly, all of the moisture drying up in his mouth by the millisecond.

“Oh, okay,” Over your other shoulder, you admire the new promotional display that was put out during the week.

Eddie seizes the opportunity to slip the second note into the case. His hands viscously tremble despite his best efforts to steady them. “Not to worry though, I can check you out way better than that walking hairdo,” Stop while you’re ahead, man. “Ring you up, I mean. I can ring you up better… than him.” Jesus fucking Christ.

“You’ve got quite the mane yourself,” A smile blooms as you look into the chocolate pools he has for irises. “I like your curls,” You can’t help but softly giggle at how bug-eyed he goes at your compliment.

“Uh, thanks,” Eddie bites back the cheek-splitter of a smile threatening to form. His trembling hands tingle unbearably from being able to make you laugh, despite not knowing what he did to earn it. He grabs a packet of M&Ms from the rack and slides it across the counter to you. “Here, free of charge.”

Your tightly sewn brow is accompanied by a slight pout. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Nonsense,” Eddie insists. “Everything’s on the house.”

“Is this some loyalty reward thing you guys do now?”

“Right on the money,” Eddie winks.

“Sweet,” you chirp. It’s as though your spirit has been replenished by saving a few bucks. “Do I get one of those little punch cards? I love those things.”

With the way your eyes are shimmering over a stupid piece of paper; Eddie would build you a house made of punch cards if that’s what you wanted. “Yeah,” he searches aimlessly. “But, uh, we haven’t gotten them yet.”

Your gaze finds his name tag and then returns to his flushed face. The corner of your mouth quirks as you notice the faint freckles dotted across his cheeks and nose. “Okay, well, thank you, Eddie.”

“No need to thank me, I should be thanking you! You’re a valued customer,” he exclaims. “My favorite of them all!”

“If you say so,” you exhale with amusement and turn to leave. “See you around.”

Eddie holds his palm open as a farewell gesture until you’re out of sight. He then brings his hand directly to his forehead in a ruthless smack. “You’re my favorite customer,” He mocks himself in a nasally voice.

With the press of a button, the register drawer launches open with a thunk. He nonchalantly retrieves his wallet, plucks out a five-dollar bill, and tucks it under the stainless steel clip to pay for your “free” movie and candy. Eddie finds Robin staring at him with a knowing look on her face. “Not a fucking word, Buckley. Not a word,” he glares, to which she throws her hands up in defense.

You couldn’t possibly wait until you got home to see if there would be another note. As you hop into the driver's seat of your car in the parking lot, you find an identical piece of folded paper. Your heart pitter-patters with the assumption that Eddie is in on it and he did Steve the favor of delivering this one for him.

With your illuminating smile, Baby Ghoul, you're the moonlight in my darkest night.

This note takes you by surprise for a different reason. It feels far more personal to be bestowed with the cutest goddamn nickname you’ve ever been given; ghouls are so metal. You obsessively reread it through the duration of your movie, while you brush your teeth, and as you lay in bed. You’re swooning over each messily penned letter, memorizing the spots where the ink drags and smudges.

It’s a bit difficult to imagine Steve saying this to you, but your insides are lurching at the thought. You hold the note to your chest and squeal.

The following visits are heavenly. Eddie loves seeing you bounce around on the balls of your feet like you’re on cloud nine. It’s becoming damn near impossible to fight the urge to smile because he knows that you’re looking forward to his imminent written affection.

Note after note, confidence simmers in his belly from seeing how the expression of his feelings is affecting you. To know that he’s the reason you’re glowing like this is turning his brain to pudding. Not tapioca, though. Ew.

With wide puppy dog eyes and a glossy lower lip, you present your past-due rental to Steve. He sucks his teeth, crosses his arms, and scolds you playfully. You successfully get out of paying the fee by simply batting your lashes at him.

Steve is eating this shit up. While you might not be his flavor of choice, he’s suddenly feeling open to sampling the femme fatale vibe. You’re beautiful, he wouldn’t waste his breath denying that. Not to mention, you’ve got a great sense of humor, considering you’re laughing at his awful jokes. That’s something he will admit—they’re bad.

Eddie doesn’t have to hear the conversation to know what’s unfolding. He feels like he’s gonna hurl when Steve leans down to shorten the distance between the two of you. He's supposed to be the middleman, not stealing Eddie’s thunder. In hindsight, there haven’t been any hints at his identity and Eddie’s been too chicken shit to give them to you except for the other day when he had no choice.

To put it simply, he’s torn. Eddie wants to scream that he’s your admirer, that he’s the one who dreams of you, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He can’t possibly reveal that it isn’t dashing Harrington who’s pining for you, but instead, it’s the dork. That would be a world-crushing level of disappointment.

This deal turned out to be a massive ego boost for Steve. The conversation is easygoing and it quickly progresses past small talk. The best part is that you haven’t even mentioned the notes. You think he’s some poet when in reality, he doesn’t even have a clue of what they say. You’re smitten without him having to bend over backward to impress you. He’d be nuts not to take advantage of it.

During closing time, Eddie stomps around while collecting the flimsy trash bags full of receipts and candy wrappers. For the past hour, he’s been pondering ways to “take care” of Steve. Sadly, it would be tricky to avoid raising suspicion if he suddenly disappeared, but hey, a guy can dream.

After dishing the silent treatment all night, Eddie finally speaks up. “You think you’re pretty clever, huh?”

“What?” Steve briefly looks up from counting the cash drawer.

“Cut the crap. You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Eddie drags a clunky vacuum out of the cramped utility closet and unwraps the lengthy cord.

“It’s not that serious. Look, it’s not my fault that she’s into me.”

“Is all that hairspray finally soaking into your brain? She’s not into you,” Eddie growls, throwing the canary-colored cord to the carpet. “She likes the person who’s writing to her. Last I checked, that’s me.”

“Yeah, but she thinks it’s me,” Steve shrugs. “She’s happy, I’m happy. I don’t see a problem here.”

“The problem is that you know how I feel about her,” Eddie retorts while staring daggers. “The shit you’re pulling is really fucking unfair.”

“Life’s not fair, buddy. It’s not like you’re gonna do anything about it.”

“We’ll see about that,” Eddie mutters, clenching his jaw as he turns around to plug in the vacuum.

“Will we?” Steve snickers. “I don’t think I’ll live to see the day.”

It’s Saturday night and Eddie’s praying to every conceivable higher power that you’ll be here. You don’t come to Wraith every weekend, but when you do show, he’s nothing short of a nervous wreck.

He peeks out from behind the velvety black curtain of the concrete stage. Eddie’s heart stops when he finds you in your usual booth. You look hot, so so hot. It’s already hard enough to perform in front of you but when you look like this? Oh, brother.

Every year, you look forward to coming here on Halloween. Your friends have gone all out with their costumes and the hours you spent getting ready were well worth it. The typical dark and dingy ambiance is heightened by the plastic skulls and bones strung from the ceiling. Your drinks emit wisps of dry ice fog and each table has a bowl of candy.

Seated at the end of the booth, your eyes drift from your drink to the floor. There you find a pair of dirty white Reeboks. Your gaze travels up the lanky figure shrouded in navy coveralls.

Eddie twists his ring around the base of his finger and the glide is effortless, thanks to the premature perspiration. “Hey.”

“Uh, hi,” your expression reflects a mix of hesitance and confusion, though you maintain a kind demeanor. “Eddie, right?”

“Yeah,” She remembered my name. Eddie motions to your getup. “I like your costume. Elvira, right?”

While you may not be sporting a ceiling-high black wig, your costume is unmistakable. “Right on the money,” you flash a pert grin, quoting him from the other day. “And you’re a…”

“Supposed to be Michael Meyers,” he clarifies, pulling a plastic knife from his oversized back pocket. “The mask was too hot to wear so, I guess I’m a killer repairman?” Max’s borrowed mask was indeed suffocating.

“Or a plumber who secretly dreams of being a professional chef,” you shrug, your irises glistening with humor.

Okay, so far so good. Talking to himself in the mirror for an hour is really paying off because he’s not a bumbling idiot for once. He could be imagining things, but it looks like you’re leaning closer. Maybe you’re just trying to hear him better over the music. He shouldn’t be overanalyzing your body language but it's the only thing keeping him vertical.

Eddie wants to prove Steve wrong but most of all, he wants to tell you how incredible you are. He’s not sure that you’ll want to talk to him after this. You might be hurt when you realize that you’ve been misled and he’s not the one you want. There’s only one way to find out.

The sound of his band getting set up beckons him. “Show time,” Eddie shakes jazz hands with the toy knife still in his grip. Of course, he just had to make it weird.

While he’s playing through the usual set with Corroded Coffin, you don’t pay them any mind, per usual. Their final song is a new one. Eddie may lack the confidence to confess, but he’s gonna sing this with all of the moxy he’s got.

In this world of shadows, what else is there to do

Wanna explore life’s cemetery with you

Your haunting beauty tells no lie

The one thing I cannot defy

The familiarity of the lyrics floods your head. You look up and find his dark, gleaming eyes locked onto you. Your heart leaps in your throat as he repeats the verses. Eddie leaves no room for uncertainty, confirming that the lyrics are pulled from the notes you’ve received. The tone of his voice is raw and passionate as he sends his affection across the room.

As soon as he steps off stage, you’re on a mission to find him. He feels a tap on his shoulder and turns to find you beaming at him. Eddie finally allows himself to do the same, all the while blushing with exhaustion and anticipation.

“Hey, again,” you stare down at your shoes and scuff them against the floor. “You sounded great up there.”

“Yeah?” he swallows hard. “You liked it?”

Your eyes snap back up to his. “All of it, every single word.”

“I’ve got like half a notebook’s worth of stuff like that,” Eddie chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. “Is that weird?”

“Far from it,” you tilt your head toward the bar. “I’d love to hear what else you’ve got to say.”

Eddie hovers his hand over the small of your back to guide you through the crowd. “I’ll sweet talk you until the sun comes up, Baby Ghoul. Anything for you.”

Reblogs are greatly encouraged and appreciated! ♡

Consider reading From Bar to Billboard, I worked really fucking hard on it 🖤

★My Masterlist

★Tip Jar

tags:@nj01@tlclick73

[superectojazzmage]

Saw someone on Reddit theorize that the reason the Halo show is Like That is because it was supposed to be a Mass Effect show but they couldn’t get the rights so they just licensed some other famous science fiction game series, did some rewrites, and went from there. And I’m intensely disturbed because of how much sense this theory makes, because so much of the show feels like “Halo pretending to be Mass Effect”:

The general focus on internal, smaller-scale human conflicts, intergalactic politics, and relationships with the bigger alien threat building largely in the background.

The Covenant’s motives and reasons for attacking humanity being built up as a mystery like how Mass Effect makes a big deal out of nobody knowing why the Reapers do what they do (in contrast to the Halo games, where the Covenant’s motives are more or less known from the start). Also, how the Covenant aren’t really humanized in comparison to the games, being portrayed more like inscrutable beings using brainwashed human servants like the Reapers.

The frank depictions and discussions of sex and nudity. Halo’s generally always avoided outright sexual content beyond the occasional silly joke (e.g., “he was my lover!”), whereas Mass Effect never shied away from that subject.

The sheer fact that Master Chief fucks at all, and especially that he fucks a woman aligned with the aliens (and is speculated by some to be originally intended AS an alien). Fucking aliens is one of the bread-and-butters of Mass Effect, but can you ever imagine that in a Halo game beyond obvious non-canon gags like Johnson hugging the Elite in CE?

The portrayal of AIs. Cortana is a mix of EDI (AI made by morally dodgy group that slowly aligns with the good guys) and SAM from Andromeda (implanted into Chief’s nervous system rather then just carried in a chip like in the games). More vaguely, the Spartans’s portrayal as basically human robots “rediscovering their humanity” feels eerily similar to the Geth and their whole arc of developing individuality, with Chief filling the role of Legion.

Halsey acts a lot like a female Illusive Man, manipulating people for “the greater good” and lacking a lot of her more sympathetic traits from the games. Similarly, the guy playing Captain Keyes looks and acts A LOT more like Captain Anderson from Mass Effect (seriously, Danny Sapani is the perfect pick Anderson aside from getting Keith David to reprise the role; he’d be an amazing casting choice if this were a Mass Effect show). And just to cap it off, this Makee character is suspiciously similar to Benezia, serving the villains, the sex appeal, and it would explain why so many people get the vibe that she was intended as an alien.

The fact that the whole plot is kicked off when Master Chief goes to colony to find it was attacked by aliens and touches an ancient alien device that gives him a vision… just like Commander Shepard going to Eden Prime and touching the Beacon at the start of Mass Effect.

The way Parangosky is portrayed, arguing with and seeking respect from a Council while also covering for undercover black ops stuff would make a lot more sense as the Citadel Council and the whole subplot in Mass Effect of humanity having to prove themselves as newcomers who have only just got onto the Council (which would also explain Parangosky being made a lot nicer then in canon Halo; she’s a stand-in for the first human councilor in Mass Effect, taking elements from both Anderson and Udina).

This one is kind of a stretch but Kwan and the Madrigal subplot feel ever so similar to Tali and the Quarians (younger girl from a culture on the outskirts of galactic society leaves home and ends up working with her peoples’s perceived enemy and learning they’re not so different — again, lining up with the ”Spartans as Geth” idea). Kwan also seems to take a bit after Ashley, being survivor of the heretic Geth Covenant attack on Eden Prime her hometown and having similar ”angry tough girl” characterization.

Like, no, completely unironically I am one hundred percent sure that this was a Mass Effect script at some point in its production. If so, man, BioWare really dodged a bullet for once, huh?

[dontcallmeeds]

Part 2 of Eddie Making Jewelry For Steve; Part 1 here / Part 3 here / Part 4 here

Steve had figured it out after the second little box that was left on the Family Video counter.

He didn’t see Eddie leave it, he was too involved in his conversation with Robin that happened to be about his panic surrounding Eddie.

See the thing is, he knew there were bisexual people and he knew he liked men for years.

But saying it outloud and falling for his best friend? Well, that was a whole other thing.

The way Steve figured it out was the handwriting on the little notes. It felt a little crazy comparing his Family Video card paperwork to the notes, but Robin was the one who suggested it.

Eddie looped his lowercase Es tightly, to the point they almost looked like Cs. And his Is were always lowercase with a circle instead of a dot.

It really just had to be him leaving the beautiful pieces that made Steve’s heart melt and his stomach fall out his ass. Although, he still had his doubts. There was no way his dream guy was just being that fucking perfect, that wasn’t usually how Steve’s life went.

But oh god did he sure have hope.

Steve thought he was being obvious that he knew, wearing the ring that he had fallen in love with in front of Eddie. He even fidgeted with it and caught Eddie staring at it before the other man quickly looked away.

He couldn’t help but tear up in the Beamer after the outing, asking Robin for advice only resulted in drunken living room karaoke, not a plan.

Steve tried to ask where he got his pieces once so maybe him and Robin could run surveillance like old times, but Eddie ended up being vague and elusive.

When Steve brought Nancy into the secret op, she suggested a stake out which felt like stalking. She started a board with dates and drop off locations and roughly estimated it was every 2-4 weeks on dates Steve was usually busy.

It was coming up on almost a month since the last drop and Steve was practically showing off with the last chain, making sure his polo was just open at top enough for Eddie to see.

The flushing across Eddie’s cheeks into his chest was everything, but still his metalhead said nothing.

It was time for Nancy’s plan.

Steve dropped days he’d be busy, watching as Eddie seemingly made a mental note of them. His feigned disappointment was shaky, Steve hoping he’d just blurt it out without confrontation.

But alas, nothing.

Nancy put on her ‘undercover journalism best’ aka a literally just a black sweater and black pants, borrowing her parents car instead of using her own. And I’m that moment Steve felt—

“Am I crazy? Is this whole thing crazy?” Steve paces the Family Video aisles between romance and comedy, which felt pretty fitting considering his love life was a joke.

Robin places a hand on his shoulder and gives him that all encompassing look between the fact that she thinks it’s completely sane, but also really fucking crazy.

“You want to know for sure, right? Not just the handwriting or little weird glances?”

Steve sighs and then nods slowly, he really did want to know for sure. But the problem is what came after.

“Okay then, we’ll just see what Nancy says then hmm? For all we know it could be a boring—“

As if on cue, the walkie they stole from the kids crackles.

“Steve—it’s for sure him, he just—“

“HE JUST WHAT?! WE NEED ANSWERS WHEELER,” Robin shouts into the speaker before Nancy can even finish, Steve grabs the walk-in out of her hand with a scoff.

“Say sorry to your eardrums for her Nance— so wait, what happened?” Steve tries to shove down his nerves, but his fingers on the device tremble.

“He leave something in your mailbox, do you want me to—“

“Steve, GO!”

He really needs to teach her what an inside voice is.

“Are you—“

“I’ll cover you, if Keith comes back I’ll—I’ll make up a dead aunt or say you ripped your pants, I don’t know! I’m not good under pressure, you know how I get Steve. Goddamnit, just go before I start rambling!”

Steve nods and handing her the walkie, running out the door. He knows he breaks the speed limit on the way home, knows if he gets pulled over he can just use the Hopper card. He normally wouldn’t, but extreme times and all that.

Nancy is pulled into the drive when he gets there, popping out when she sees him pull up next to the mailbox.

“Hey I wanted to stay, for you know, support,” she says with a small smile, seeming to enjoy this all way too much.

“Nance, you didn’t have to—“

“Yes I did, Steve. Now fucking open it before me and Robs burst a blood vessel.”

Steve nervously chuckles, his fingers twitching on the mailbox door before pulling it down to a little red box.

‘Stevie, something different,’ is all it reads.

He shares a glance with Nancy, before pulling it out.

[chervbs]

the barber predicament— s. harrington

pairings: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3.6k

synopsis: when steve complains that he can’t find a new barber after his old one retired, eddie recommends you; an old friend of his that’s a stylist. and you seem to know the way right to steve’s heart-through his hair. based on this request.

warnings: reader and eddie are besties, brief mention of eddie and max’s shitty childhoods, probably incorrect depictions on what it’s like to be a hair stylist, FLUFF to the max and terrible writing

a/n: I really really don’t like how this came out but I loved to request so much that I forced myself to finish it. everything I know I about being a hair stylist is from getting my hair done so much and from tiktok, so I tried to keep the details I wasn’t sure of vague. I apologize if anything is wrong, please let me know if it is. also I completely guessed on how much hairciuts were in the 80's so sorry if thats wrong too. otherwise, like always, i’d love any feedback you guys give me

masterlist

“Steve, I sympathize with you, I really do, but if I have to listen to you complain that you can’t find a barber for another second, I will tell Keith that you’ve been letting pretty girls get away with their late return fees.”

Steve’s jaw fell open, staring dumbfounded at Robin. “W-well, excuse me,” He stuttered, offended. “For wanting to confide in my best friend about my troubles. Truly, Robin, I don’t know why I assumed you’d be supportive.”

The blonde rolled her eyes, shaking her head lightly at her friends dramatics. “I was supportive up until the fourth time you talked about it. What’s the big deal, anyways?” She asked. “There’s like 3 different barbers in town. Go to one of them.”

Steve stared at her incredulously, as if she’d just told him to shave his head. “Are you being serious? Do you know me at all?”

Robin sighed, pulling the bin of returned movies out from under the counter. “Yes, Steve, in fact I do. I know that your hair is weirdly important to you. But what do you expect me to do about the fact that you won’t trust any of the barbers in town?” She asked, organizing the movies by genre on the rolling cart next to her.

“You looking for a barber, Harrington?” The additional voice caused the two Family Video employees to jump, looking over to see Eddie leaning on the counter casually.

Recovering from the startle, Steve nodded skeptically. “Yeah, I am. Why, you have someone you know?”

Eddie nodded with a grin. “Indeed I do. This girl that graduated the first time I was supposed to. She was in Hellfire. Went to school for hair and everything. Even does mine on occasion for a discount.”

Steve’s eyes shot up to his hairline, head nodding slowly. “Right.” He said, drawing out the vowel. “Well, listen, Munson. I mean no offense when I say this, but I don’t know if I trust someone with my hair that leaves you looking like that.” He explained, gesturing to the other boys head.

Eddie looked at him blankly. “Offense taken.” He deadpanned. “You think I want my hair like this simply for convenience?”

Both Steve and Robin stayed silent, giving Eddie knowing looks instead. He sighed in defeat. “Okay, fine, that’s partially why. But, I also have to give credit to my ultimate role model, Kirk Hammett.” He grinned.

He received blank looks from his friends and the metal head threw his arms up in exasperation. “Really? Kirk Hammett? Lead guitarist of Metallica? Nothing? Why am I friends with you guys?”

Before either of them could respond with a witty remark, Max came skipping up to the counter with two movies in her hands, throwing them down onto the counter. “I’m ready.”

“2 movies?” Eddie glared at the redhead. “Really, Maxine?”

Eddie and Max had a very odd brother sister relationship that was built almost entirely on a consistent basis of bickering and shoving each other around. Still, they looked out for one another, and Eddie felt responsible for making sure the little bit of Max’s childhood that was left was positive. Which he did so in different ways, including bringing her to rent movies for their movie nights.

“Yes, 2. Because you still owe me for the last movie night you forgot about.” She spit back. Eddie gritted his teeth, sliding over the correct amount of money to Steve for the movies.

“As I was saying,” He sent the redhead one last glare. “Even though my hair is convenient for my lifestyle, I ask for it to look a certain way to resemble someone I look up to. She’s the only one who’s ever gotten it to how I want.” Eddie told Steve, snatching a pad of sticky notes and a pen from behind the register.

He scribbled down a series of numbers before sliding it back. “That’s the number for the salon she works at. Give her a call. If you want.”

-

You were on your lunch break when the call came in. On a Wednesday, there was no need to have many stylists in the salon at once. Most appointments and walk ins would happen in the afternoon and as a younger stylist you were more often than not told to come in during the day for walk ins. The other women in the salon were older, more experienced stylists that didn’t need the extra cash you normally got for the services.

The food on your fork was midway to your mouth when the phone rang and you let it fall back onto your plate with a sigh.

“Thanks for calling Hawkins #1 hair salon, how can I help you?” The slogan spewed from your lips like a broken record.

“Uh..hi.” You straightened at the deep voice that came from the phone. Of course, you had men in the salon, usually though just to wait for their wives or kids to get their hair cut. There was the occasional male client, but most went to the local barbers and wouldn’t be caught dead getting their hair done in your salon. As if getting a haircut from a woman made them more feminine.

“Hello!” You chirped. “How can I help you today?”

The man on the other line hesitated for a second. “I’d like to book a haircut? With, um…Y/N.”

You perked up at the sound of your own name, a bashful smile appearing on your lips. Someone had recommended you?

“That would be me.” You chuckled. “Can I ask who referred you?”

The nameless man gave you a polite laugh, the deep timbre of the sound sending a warmth to your cheeks. “Uh, yeah. Eddie? Eddie Munson? He said you guys were friends in high school. Said you were good at what you do.”

The kind words certainly did nothing to quell the heat in your skin, but you still beamed at the mention of your friend. “Yeah, Eddie, of course. I’ll have to give him a discount the next time he comes in.” You joked. In all seriousness, you already didn’t charge Eddie the normal amount that you did for haircuts, fully aware of his financial situation. “But, yeah, I can put you in for a haircut. What day were you hoping to come in?”

“Is tomorrow okay? It’s my only day off.”

You opened up the binder that kept track of all appointments, making sure there were openings for the next day. “Yeah, it says here I have an opening at 10am and another at 1. Either of those sound good?”

The line went silent for a second too long, and you have a feeling the man nodded before remembering he was on the phone. “1pm would be great, thanks.”

You grabbed a pen and crossed out the 1pm slot. “Awesome. What’s the name I can put down for you?”

“Steve. Steve Harrington.”

-

Steve was irrationally nervous for his haircut. Never mind the fact that he was risking, in his opinion, his best feature, but the thought of meeting you was annoyingly nerve wracking. The way your voice sounded over the phone was borderline angelic, and he could only imagine what kind of beauty you radiated in real life. Not to mention, you and him briefly walked the halls of Hawkins High at the same time, and he wondered if you were aware of his reputation back then. He couldn’t recall your presence, but then again, he had his head so far up his own ass that he didn’t recognize most people from high school.

He was so antsy that morning that he was ready to go by 11, leaving him to pace and try to find little things to keep himself busy. The second it hit 12:50, Steve was sprinting out the door, making it to the salon in a record 5 minutes.

The bell above the door rang as soon as he stepped in, alerting the few stylists and customers that were there of his presence. One of the stylists, an older, heavier set woman took a glance at him as she blow dried her client.

“Y/N!” She called towards the back of the salon. “Your 1 o’clock is here!”

A second later, a woman stepped out, who he could only assume was you. You emerged from a beaded curtain, a sight to behold. Steve felt his breath hitch and he tried to wipe the sweat from his hands on his jeans.

You weren’t doing much better. Of course you knew who Steve Harrington was. He’d been a year younger than you, but he’d quickly climbed the social ladder in school. Every party was a big deal when it was held at Steve’s house and if you were friends with him, you were automatically cool.

You hadn’t cared much about the social aspect of school, focusing only on passing your classes and playing DnD. It’s where you met Eddie, who had easily become your best friend. It had been upsetting when you found out he wouldn’t be walking the stage with you, but you’d been supportive of him ever since.

And like every girl, you’d had a crush on Steve Harrington. How could you not? He was a total dreamboat and you’d be crazy not to find him attractive. You’d always been able to push that desire to the back burner, considering your best friend was continuously labeled as The Freak and you certainly didn’t gain any popularity by being associated with him.

When Eddie told you that he’d befriended the former King of Hawkins High, you truly believed he was fucking with you. But he claimed that the man had changed; matured. He told you that Steve’s best friends were a senior girl who Eddie knew band from marching band and a freshman that was in Hellfire. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious about this new man Steve Harrington had apparently become.

Oh, and that crush you had? Definitely still there. That much was evident by the dryness of your mouth that occurred the moment you laid eyes on Steve.

He was even more handsome than you remembered. Long legs clad in light blue Levi’s, polo shirt fitted nicely to his toned chest and big brown eyes looking back at you with an expression you couldn’t read.

Steve wished he remembered you. He couldn’t help but wonder if things had been different, would he have noticed you? He wanted to kick himself for not having. You were probably the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, and he realized now that describing you as angelic didn’t do you justice. You were ethereal–otherworldly.

He could see why you and Eddie were friends. Your outfit was mainly made up of black articles with a few splashes of color here and there. Your makeup was dark, creating a contract between the black eyeliner and the color of your iris’s. You were stunning, to say the least.

“Hi!” You exclaimed breathlessly. The sound of your voice broke Steve from his jumble of thoughts, only making his brain fizzle further. Your voice was even sweeter in person. “Steve, right?” You asked, though you knew the answer.

Steve cleared his throat, nodding. “Yeah, that’s me. You’re Y/N?”

You grinned so brightly it nearly made Steve’s heart stop in his chest. “That would be me. You can come sit at my station.” You said, patting the chair you’d stopped at.

He obeyed silently, taking a seat in the chair. You had to crank the lever a few times, lowering the height of the chair to accommodate for his large stature. You tried not to focus on the intoxicating smell of his cologne and he tried not to focus on your hands taking through his hair.

“So, what were we thinking of doing to your hair?” You asked, leaning your arms on the back of the chair.

Steve made eye contact with you through the mirror and hoped you couldn’t tell how red his cheeks were, because he definitely could. “Um, I was hoping to keep most of the length. Shorter on the sides, longer in the front?” He was really just spitting out words, hoping they made sense. Honestly, he was finding it difficult to focus on your question when he felt your fingertips on his scalp.

“So..we’re thinking Swayze but longer?” Steve’s jaw fell slack, staring at you in awe as you put his thoughts into words with incredible ease. You really did know what you were doing.

“Yeah, exactly.” He responded quietly, a little stunned.

You sent him that brilliant smile once again. “Cool.” You stared thoughtfully at his reflection, head tilted to the side. “Can I-could I suggest something? And you can totally say no, but I personally think it would look really good.”

Steve thought that you could ask him to commit arson and he’d say yes. “‘Course. What is it?”

You pulled a couple of strands around his face, trying to visualize your idea. “How would you feel about getting a little bit of highlights?”

His eyebrow cocked in questioning. “Highlights? Don’t only chicks get those?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes a bit, and Steve’s stomach immediately dropped. He fucked up, he offended you, he–

“No, silly. There’s actually a lot of actors recently that have been getting them. It wouldn’t be any drastic, just a few streaks that would be a shade or two lighter than your natural color. I think it would compliment your skin tone, bring out your eyes.”

The boy found himself nodding before he really considered what you were telling him. “Yeah,” He blurted, realizing he had yet to give you a verbal response. “If you think so. I trust you.”

“Great.” You laughed. “I’ll get you mixed up.”

Steve didn’t know what that meant, but he did know that his haircut had now upgraded to a lengthier process, and he was just happy to have a reason to be around you longer.

As promised, you came back out a couple minutes later, using a brush that looked like a big fork and mixing up a gooey mixture in a bowl. You were quick to start slathering the light purple substance in his hair, carefully applying it to chunks that you had placed over a piece of foil. Each section was enclosed and folded into a little square.

“So what brings you to me? I know you said Eddie referred you, but guys aren’t usually very willing to go to a stylist rather than a barber.” You said.

Steve shrugged a little. “I had a barber before, but he retired and moved out of Hawkins. He’s the only one that’s ever gotten my hair exactly how I want it.” He blushed, reluctant to reveal the reason he’d agreed to be there. “My hair is kinda important to me, I didn’t wanna go to just any barber and risk them fucking it up. Eddie said you were great and I really just needed a haircut.” He explained.

You nodded understandingly, finishing up the last couple sections of his highlights. “I get that. Hair has always been really important to me too. Obviously.” You gestured around you. Steve laughed and you felt the sound bring a warmth to your chest. “It’s always been the easiest way besides my clothes to express myself. And it’s nice to have control over something as an adult when so much is out of your control.”

Your eyes met in the mirror once again, his big doe eyes staring deep into your soul with an understanding that only came from shared experiences. You didn’t know much about Steve’s home life, only what you’d heard during school. His parents were loaded but were often never home. As a teenager, that’s the best thing that could happen to you, but as an adult, you saw how that could get pretty lonely.

The time passed by far too quickly for either of your tastes. You and Steve hadn’t even noticed the time flying so quickly as you talked about anything and everything. It was crazy to think that this man, this sweet, charismatic, beautiful man, used to be a douchebag in high school.

Steve was in heaven as you washed his hair, not even bothering to hide his bliss as your fingers massaged the hair products into his scalp. He could die happy right now, he was sure of it. You held back a giggle as his eyes closed and a convent hum came from his throat. Not wanting to embarrass him, you refrained from commenting and continued your routine.

After a few cycles of shampooing and rinsing and conditioning and rinsing until Steve’s hair was clean and silky smooth, you shut the water off and gathered his hair in a little towel.

“Okay, all done. I’m just gonna blow dry your hair, style it a bit and you’ll be all set.” Steve couldn’t help the frown that appeared, not wanting your time together to end.

It seemed like you read his mind, commenting as you dragged a hairbrush through his brunette locks. “If you’re happy with how your hair came out, you can always come back for trims, o-or touch ups on your highlights.” You stuttered, smiling sheepishly and silently praying that he couldn’t tell how desperate you were to see him again.

“Yeah?” He asked. You nodded, biting your lip shyly as you refocused on his hair. You sat in a forced but comfortable silence as you blowdried his hair. Once it was all nice and fluffy, he watched as you poured a series of liquids into your palm, raking them through his hair. You messed with the strands for another few minutes, doing stuff he didn’t understand but somehow styling his hair exactly how he likes it.

He had to admit, you were definitely right about the highlights. They brought a brightness to his complexion that hadn’t been there before. He felt like he looked younger somehow, which was surprising, considering the kids he always hung around with made him feel like he was pushing 80 sometimes. He told you as such, reveling in the sweet sound of your laughter.

“Well, that’s my job. Just glad you trusted little ol’ me with your most prized possession.” The words came out teasingly. Steve grinned back at you through the mirror, shrugging slightly.

“Guess I owe Munson, huh?”

You agreed, guiding him back to the front to check him out. You typed something into the register at the counter. “Your total is gonna be $10.”

Steve’s eyebrows almost touched his forehead. “That’s it? For the haircut and the highlights?”

“Yeah, it’s with a discount. You are Eddie’s friend after all.” You were almost charging him just for the haircut, and Steve was not having it.

He frantically shook his head in protest. “No, no, Y/N. You don’t have to do that. I can pay you the full price, trust me.”

“Steve,” You chuckled, “It’s okay. I don’t give out many friends and family discounts, it’s not like I’m losing all that much money.”

He cocked an eyebrow at you challengingly. “Oh yeah? How much is the full price for highlights.”

You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue, reluctantly mumbling out the price, which was much larger than what you were asking. “Absolutely not. Charge me the right amount.” Steve was not about to leave and let you basically have a free service. Not when you worked so hard.

“I’ll just tip you the rest if you don’t.” He smirked, eyes peering at you fondly when you sighed in exasperation.

“It’s seriously fine. I offered the extra service, you don’t have to pay for it.”

A lightbulb lit up in Steve’s head, eyes shining at the obvious opportunity. He’d be an idiot not to take it.

“Fine.” He sighed dramatically. “At least let me do something to pay you back for it. A service for a service, huh? What do you say?”

The corners of your mouth tilted up, betraying your efforts to keep a serious face. Steve was clearly not backing down. “Okay. What’d you have in mind?”

A pink rose to Steve’s freckled cheeks. “Let me take you on a date?”

Your breath hitched. You certainly felt the tension between the two of you ever since he walked in, but you really weren’t expecting anything to come from it.

Steve took your silence as a negative reaction. “Or-I could do anything else. Doesn’t have to be a date, really. I could buy you lunch one day or-“

“I’d love to.” His big brown eyes snapped up to meet your in surprise.

“Really?”

You nodded gleefully, unable to keep your grin from growing. You could feel your cheeks beginning to ache with how much you were smiling.

“Okay.” He whispered, ducking his head bashfully. Steve quickly pulled his wallet out, handing you the 10 dollar bill.

It took less than a minute for you to input his money in, ripping the receipt that printed it. Before you could hand it to him, you grabbed a pen and scribbled something on it.

“My house number. Give me a call?” You asked in a hopeful tone.

“Definitely.” Steve grinned and you repressed the urge to swoon. He sent you a cute little wave, leaving you in the salon smiling like an fool. As soon as he was out the door, your fellow stylists squealed, crowding around you and demanding details.

Steve faintly heard the high pitched noise, smirking to himself. Sliding into the drivers seat of his BMW, he sighed happily. “Yeah, I definitely owe Munson.”

general taglist:

@teenwolfbitches28

@thethreeheadeddragon

@Cerbythepuppy

stranger things taglist:

@m-rae21

@mulletmcghee

strike throughs means tumblr wont let me tag you :(

add yourself to my taglist!

[hard-core-super-star]

Hi, may I please request Reader is Australian and is a judge on the Voice, Australia. Hailee (Steinfeld obviously), with the other judges help to surprise Reader by 'auditioning'. (Reader obviously turns her chair. They've been dating for a couple of years.)

keep on coming back for more [H.Steinfeld]

pairing: hailee steinfeld x musician!reader

summary: you don't really like surprises...unless they involve a certain brunette and your favorite song.

warnings: none, just fluff; me pretending like i know what i'm talking about when i really don't; R is technically a guitar player but that's not expanded upon; like two seconds of nervous hailee

wordcount: 1k

a/n: messed around with the pov on this one again so...yeet. i also did the most scuffed research on the voice, australia so forgive me if it sucks/if things are too vague. this fic was also just an excuse for me to scream into the void about rock bottom because it's one of hailee's best songs, argue with the wall. [but not the version with dnce because...men. do i have to say anything else?] hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

Hailee knows being nervous about this is ridiculous but that doesn’t stop her heart from thundering in her chest or her hands from growing clammy. Usually, those things are a sign of excitement but today, the butterflies in her stomach feel a little more uneasy than usual.

It’s been more than a few years since the last time she performed this song live and, if she’s being completely honest with herself, she’s worried about what you’ll think.

Surprises aren’t her strong suit, especially not when they involve your work but it’s been a few months since you left L.A to start working on The Voice, Australia and she hasn’t had a chance to come see you until now.

She was originally just going to visit you on set and let that be the surprise but she may have texted Rita Ora about her idea to fly to Sidney to see you and then one thing led to another and now she’s here. Minutes away from pretending to be yet another blind audition for the show.

Everyone had agreed it would be a great way to get more people to watch the show, or at the very least the clip that would be posted on YouTube later, but she didn’t care about any of that. She just cared about getting to see your smile again. 

“You’re on in five.”

The brunette nods in response, practically counting down the seconds until the two of you are finally reunited. Dramatic, sure, but also sweet in a way that makes you melt every time.

While Hailee’s getting ready for her surprise performance, you are doing your best to act like you’re paying complete attention to whatever ‘argument’ Rita and Jessica are having to convince the most recent auditioner to join their team. 

You’ve been a witness to these ‘arguments’ a couple of times since filming started but you always stay out of them. Mainly because they’re fun to watch but also because you’re technically the new kid on the block and you have some massive shoes to fill. Keith Urban-sized shoes to be specific. 

You still don’t know how you went from playing the guitar in your room to being a professional musician to being a judge on The Voice but you’re not about to complain. That doesn’t mean the job isn’t tiring but you can’t afford to look like you don’t know what you’re doing. 

The young singer ends up choosing Rita’s team and you’re given a quick break as the crew gets everything ready for the next contestant. You resist the urge to check your phone, knowing all it will do is make you miss your girlfriend. This wasn’t the first time the two of you were doing long distance but it never gets easier. 

You don’t get the chance to dwell on your thoughts too long since filming resumes. You straighten your back in the surprisingly comfortable chair and prepare yourself for the next blind audition.

A few seconds go by before you hear the beginning notes of a song you know like the back of your hand. The smile on your face gives away your growing excitement at getting to hear someone cover a song you love so much. 

You're honestly a little surprised it's taken so long for someone to audition using one of Hailee’s songs. It’s a shock but a welcome one for sure. Just because they're using one of your girlfriend’s songs doesn't mean you'll go easy on them, though. You’re easygoing but extremely picky when you want to be. And you’ll be extra picky just to honor the one you love more than anything else. 

“What are we fighting for? Seems like we do it just for fun…” 

Your eyes widen at the sound of that voice. 

For a second you think you’re imagining things but there’s no possible way you could be wrong. You could be underwater with a bag over your head and still manage to recognize your girlfriend’s voice.

“Breathe deep, bottle it up…”

You don’t waste another second in pressing the red button that allows you to turn around and see Hailee in all her glory. Your breath gets caught in your throat at the sight of her and suddenly, everything else around you disappears. The lights, the audience, even your fellow judges, all you can see and hear is her.

Her brown eyes are trained on you and you have no doubt she’s feeling exactly what you’re feeling. The smile on her face tells you all you need to know about where her mind is. “Oh, we’re on the right side of rock bottom…”

She can’t hold herself back any longer and she takes a few long strides, walking down the stage steps and reaching your chair with a smile so bright it rivals every star you’ve ever seen. Her hand reaches out toward you and you take it without hesitation, allowing her to pull you toward her.

The moment might go viral later but neither of you is focused on anything except the other.

“You’re the best kind of bad something,” she sings, her face mere inches away from yours. “‘Cause we keep on coming back for more.”

This time, you’re the one who can’t hold back. You wait for her to pull her microphone away before you lean in and capture her lips in a kiss filled with all the love you’ve had to keep inside since you left L.A.

You have no doubt the studio probably wanted more words exchanged and overly dramatic shocked expressions but all those complaints will come later. Hell, you’ll even reshoot the whole thing if it means getting to spend time with Hailee on set. But all of that can wait until later.

“Warn a person next time,” you whisper with a grin once the two of you part for air.

“Where’s the fun in that, babe?”

You playfully roll your eyes at her, pretending to be annoyed when you’re truly overjoyed to hear her teasing remarks in person again. “You’re the worst.” 

“You love me,” she replies with a shrug.

She starts to move away but you pull her back in for another quick kiss before she can get too far.

You hear the commotion that comes with getting ready for filming to resume but you’re too busy giving Hailee all your attention to care. You’re incredibly grateful for the opportunity to be here, and you absolutely love your job, but your girlfriend will always come first.

[pidges-lost-robot]

No cause the thing is, how I imagine the wolf to have adopted by Keith in a Canon where he didn't dip and go on a space whale so he could be the 'tall' leader the team needed (somebody is projecting the growth spurt they wished they had onto keith and it shows) is initially Keith and the team are on mission on some comet and Keith finds Kosmo hiding, a little injured and clearly a scared little guy. It seems like the little guy had been alone for a while and while Keith's trys to help protect the leg he injured, the wolf chomps down on Keith. In paladin armour he's unfazed but stops what he's doing to allow Kosmo to settle which seems like the case.... for like 2 seconds until Keith finds himself falling from a height into the tree. He instinctively cradles the wolf from the impact and gets around to finished the bandaging, finding some food for him it.

Hunk stumbles upon this and begins crying like he's just lost someone cause that's his immediate reaction to anything cute. The team arrive and Lance is having feelings about this cause it just makes his crush on Keith too obvious to him after like half a season of oblivousness but we'll get to that later. Keith realises this guy has no where to go and asks the team if they can bring him with them, at least until his leg heals and then they can bring him back. Most of the team is very apprehensive cause like this is a fucking wolf.

The team unfortunately decided against the wolf making Keith a little sad but he agreed they were probably right about him getting too attached.

When they get back on the ship, he does some research on the wolf and figures out that it is a species of common domesticated wolves so it likely had an owner that didn't look after it well, but also that it'd hopefully still adjust well to the wilderness on the comet.

Keith goes to his room to mope about this a little until his hears that familiar teleporting noise and is ambushed by Kosmo.

They have already long since flown away from the planet but Keith has grown attached and can't bare to just drop the guy in the wild. Coran was only guessing when he said the guy would adapt to the well but he's a domesticated wolf so Keith can imagine this guy was brought up in people's homes and doubts he'd do well just being expected to suddenly live out of them. But there's an obvious problem, despite this ships size there's only 7 people and they all live in each others back pocket. This wolf will inevitably be discovered. So he tries to train the guy as best as he can get him food.

In the meantime, Lance discusses with Coran his feelings surrounding Keith and Coran unceremoniously dumps on him the knowledge that he has had romantic.feelings for Keith for a while now and he already knows and due to their already very close bond before voltron and cause he already told him, he knows Hunk definitely knows. Lance's brain malfunctions and he's left in utter confusion and also.fury for hunk not telling him.

Also meanwhile, Shiro has had some issues with accidentally teleporting (this is my explanation for him disappearing and they find him quickly this is an ongoing thing shush) and the reason they'd been on this comet was due to it being in similar circumstances to Shiro so could offer some explanations to why he's teleporting and how to manage it day to day

Keith for a good while hides Kosmo but Kosmo likes playing fetch and has started teleporting and giving him other people's stuff. The first to notice is hunk as his is meticulously organised tools and frankly he's going to be disappointed in whoever took them without saying, eyeing Pidge. Keith tries to sneak the tools back into Hunks possession but gets caught by Hunk and then Kosmo.seeing what he brought Keith is back away from him, teleports in front of Hunk.

Hunk is sworn to secrecy cause Keith didn't do this on purpose and the wolf is cute. But Hunk is rumbled when Lance confronts him about knowing his feelings for Keith but being vague enough that Hunk thought he knew about the wolf. And Pidge finds out Hunk and Lamce keep having eye conversations at dinner and Keith looks guilty and she is offended that she was left out. Allura finds out cause she randomly finds Kosmo and begins trying to find out how he got onto the ship in the first place and gets him a bed and some.food and water to stay in a room near hers

Shenanigans ensue

[veeketchum]

I’m rewatching Voltron rn (since I was thinking back and all I could remember apart from the names of all the characters was that one monsters and mana episode) and I’m only like three episodes in but I LOVE it

one thing though-

why has no one written a isekai fic for Voltron?? I would eat that shit UP

(this is all based off the vague memories I have of the show when I first watched it, so apologies if something’s are wrong)

imagine just waking up as a newborn but you fully remeber your old life, including watching Voltron. You can practically FEEL that something is off about this world compared to the memories of your previous life, but you don’t know what until you see a sign for Garrison recruitment.

Holy shit you’re in Voltron.

You have absolutely no clue what to do, because if any isekai trope is to go by, you’re going to get dragged into the events of the show, even if you haven’t seen anyone you recognize yet.

so you prepare. Better to be safe than sorry. You research outer space, you study how to pilot, you get your hands on whatever books you can about tech and try to get familiar with how to use it, and most importantly, you learn medical procedures and how to deal with situations quickly.

the healing pods aren’t always available in the show, the castle loses power or the paladins are just too far away to get to them.

mind you, you start this all at like age 4, so your parents are probably a little concerned. But you seem content with it, and what parent would stop their child from reading?

then your parents enroll you in Garrison, without your knowledge. Not that you were mad exactly, but you were unsure if you were going to try and stay under the radar or not. Now you have no choice.

you keep your head down most of the time, praying none of the paladins show up. They don’t, at least not your first few years. It’s your third year that you spot Keith, in the freshman class.

surprise surprise, somehow your class is shifted to help train the younger class (even though you’re barely more experienced then them? You’re seriously questioning these teachers). You, against all odds, are paired with Keith. Y’all don’t talk much outside of what’s required- Keith is Keith, and you’re still trying to figure out the best way to go about this. You ask him for a few flying tips once, since you know how good he is, but he stared at you for a while before saying “aren’t you the more experienced one?” You just shrug, and neither of you speak about it again.

It rolls around to when they get that new piloting simulator, and both classes are to use it on different days. Shiro, of course, is there, just like in show. You, by memory at this point (you can’t even count how many nights you’ve sneaked into the normal simulator to practice, or the deck to spar), ace it, soaring over everyone else’s score- and by doing that, catch Shiro’s attention.

there goes staying under the radar.

——————————————

(I’m totally going to add to this, especially as I get further into my rewatch, but this is all I can think of at the moment.)

Idk, I just feel like this idea would totally be fun and new to the Voltron corner of tumblr. Again, only in the first few episodes and most of this is relying on my really old memories of the series, so sorry if it’s wrong in places.

[autisticlancemcclain]

“No.”

Lance groans loudly, forgoing smacking his face in his hands and going straight for banging his head repeatedly against the elevator doors, which Keith thinks is a touch dramatic. But regardless he crosses his arms over his chest and stubbornly refuses to budge from his position.

“Keith. For the love of God.”

“God is dead and I’m not climbing out of a goddamn ten thousand foot elevator hatch with you.”

Keith admittedly puts a tad too much emphasis on the ‘with you’ part of the sentence. It’s obvious in the way Lance stops and lifts his head up and glares at Keith so icily he doesn’t need to squint to make out Lance’s expression in the low emergency lights; his eyes practically burn a hole through Keith’s forehead. Keith winces but doesn’t say anything.

“You have gone toe to toe with a goddamn zombie dictator,” Lance grinds out, “but you’re too much of a pussy to climb an elevator shaft?”

Keith stiffens. “I’m not — shut up!”

Smirking, now, visibly delighted that he’s managed to press Keith’s buttons (God Keith wants to punch him), Lance leans against the elevator wall, hip cocked, feigning nonchalance.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he says, inspecting his nails like it doesn’t matter. “I just never would have thought that the best pilot out of the Garrison and literal pilot of the Red Lion is, you know, a chicken.”

Keith clenches his fists. Lance is frustrated and bored and pushing Keith’s buttons because there’s fuck else to do. He is. Keith knows this.

But he is so goddamn good at it.

“I’m not a fucking chicken, Cargo Pilot.”

‘Cargo Pilot’ is usually a hole-in-one insult that’s guaranteed to make Lance bristle, sure to make him bare his teeth and go bright red and generally lose his absolute shit. Keith is even sparing in his use of the term, careful not to let it lose its potency.

But because the universe hates him and also Lance is the most annoying motherfucker alive, his smirk only widens, and he flexes his fingers, still fucking casual, still not even bothering to look up in Keith’s direction.

I hate you, Keith thinks, with feeling.

“Sure,” Lance says, without. He shrugs. “Prove it.”

For a second Keith thinks he’s so mad that he might. But then he imagines it fully, pictures his bare back pressed against Lance’s, feet planted on the slippery castle walls, lights probably still out, struggling to put one foot in front of the other and drag each other upright. He thinks of how much effort that would take and how easily he would start to sweat, how easily every shift of their muscles would loosen the friction-borne grip between them, how easily his foot could slip. He thinks of how long a ten thousand foot drop would take, how long he would have to accept that he’s going to die before he splats on the pristine floor.

His stomach turns. His face goes green.

Lance’s jaw drops.

“Oh my God, you’re afraid of heights!”

“I am not!” Keith snaps, because he isn’t, he just has a fucking brain. “It’s just — it’s ten thousand fucking feet, Lance!”

“A pilot!” Lance screeches. “A pilot afraid of heights!”

“You are so goddamn extra!” Keith cries.

Lance makes more vague screeching noises. He gestures furiously at Keith, then pauses, then makes a sound in the back of his throat akin to a loudly dying whale, then gestures back at Keith, then at the ceiling, then at the elevator as a whole. Then he lets out one loud, long, final yell, completely wordless and directed at what Keith can only assume is the heavens, and stops, closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and very calmly crawls onto the floor, belly first, and lays perfectly flat with his face pressed to the tiles.

“I hate it here,” he says serenely. He pauses for a minute, thoughtful. “Also, I hate you.”

“Ditto,” Keith mutters, finally giving up and joining him on the floor. He tips his head back until it thumps on the elevator wall and sighs, loud and long, wondering vaguely if this is punishment for the hundreds of times he mocked Shiro for his fear of squirrels. He truly thinks it might be.

All he wanted was twenty goddamn minutes in the pool. That’s all. He’d have even taken ten. He just wanted to swim a few laps, maybe float for a bit, and pretend he was in a lake somewhere without pressing problems such as saving the universe and the fate of every single soul in it.

Eight minutes, really. Seven.

The lights flicker back on. Lance lifts his head, hopeful, then stretches out one ridiculously long leg (seriously what is the deal with that he’s basically a giraffe, it’s too much, Keith should talk to someone about it because since when were legs allowed to be that — long and shapely, or whatever, it’s weird) and presses the closest button with his toe.

It does nothing. Lance stares at it for a few minutes, as if attempting to bring the elevator alive by manifestation alone, but no life is forthcoming. Lance huffs sadly and returns his face to the floor.

“That’s really disgusting,” Keith says, although he has his fair share of Floor Time. “People walk on this floor all the time.”

Lance doesn’t bother looking up, groaning loudly for several minutes before simply rolling away to the opposite side of the elevator.

“Shut up,” he says finally, after so long Keith almost forgets his original comment. “You just —”

Abruptly he straightens up, pulling the towel off his neck and crawling forward to place it in the middle of the elevator. Keith rolls his eyes so hard it actually hurts, a little.

“You and your commentary stay on the loser stinky mullet half of the elevator,” Lance says. “The pretty half that’s not infected with your rancid vibes belongs to me.”

“Were you trained to be this annoying?” Keith ponders, half out of genuine curiosity. “Like, do you do this on purpose?”

“Ignoring you now,” Lance says primly.

Keith scowls. He’s not — Keith isn’t the one who’s too irritating to be around without going insane.

“I’m ignoring you, asshole.”

Lance doesn’t respond. Keith closes one eye and holds up his thumb and forefinger to the approximate shape of Lance’s face, pretending he’s squishing his head. It brings him great peace.

After a while, though, he starts to get restless. His legs starts bouncing, up and down so fast it’s blurry, and then his fingers start to tap, but the feeling of rustling under his skin only gets worse, spinning faster and faster and coil tightening more and more in his stomach until he just — implodes, really, until his brain goes boom and says if you don’t get moving right this second, and Keith says in response to it, believe me I’m on it. He’s scrambling to his feet before he has the conscious thought to do so, hands moving before he tells them to and pushing him upright, bare feet padding rapidly on the floor as he paces, three steps until he hits the wall then pivot then three steps then pivot then three steps again. Over and over and over. His fingers stop tapping but his shoulders get twitchy; itchy under his skin and on it, sweaty because there’s no airflow and this goddamn elevator is sweltering. Or he’s just hot. He usually runs hot. He’s not sure and he doesn’t care to know, because the pool would have been refreshing but instead he’s stuck in a ten by ten by ten cube stuck somewhere on a ten thousand foot tube and to his right his rival-slash-teammate keeps huffing and rubbing his hands on his arms and muttering to himself.

“Could you maybe cut that out,” Keith snaps, which is entirely unfair because his pacing isn’t quiet, but Keith is three seconds away from attempting to climb the walls and it’s Lance, anyway, when are they not arguing, so it doesn’t matter.

Maybe when you’re having a crisis-brought bonding moment, says a voice in his brain. Stuck elevators are kind of a crisis.

Shut up or I’m going to give myself a concussion, Keith responds to it.

“Not my fault it’s goddamn freezing in here,” Lance snaps.

Keith pauses. He looks down at Lance. He frowns.

“Your lips are blue,” he observes, bewildered.

“Eat shit,” Lance responds, predictably. He’s fucking — he’s shivering.

Keith is made astutely aware of the cooling sweat on his back and grimaces.

“Lance,” he says slowly, “it is not cold in here.”

Lance blows out a breath like the goddamn weight of the world is on his shoulders. He flicks his eyes up to meet Keith’s, who is standing behind his head and leaning down, and somehow manages to seem like the more put-together person between them, which is bonkers.

“I’m anaemic, stupid.”

Keith blinks. Suddenly the air feels very solemn, and he shifts uncomfortably, unsure of what to say.

“I didn’t know you had an eating disorder,” he manages eventually.

Lance’s faces scrunches up in confusion for seven whole seconds before it clears, and he looks at Keith like he is the dumbest man alive and then bursts out laughing.

“That’s — anorexic, you idiot! I don’t have enough blood!”

“Oh,” Keith says, face heating. He scowls as Lance continues to laugh way harder than what was called for, clutching his stomach with tears rolling down his face. He pokes Lance aggressively with his toe, and by that he means his kicks him. “Will you stop — it’s not that funny, dickhead!”

“It really is,” Lance wheezes.

Keith scowls harder. His face is as red as his shorts and the flush is starting to spread down his chest and Lance notices and it only makes him laugh more, because he’s a shithead of the worst kind. “I hope you choke.”

Keith flicks his towel over his head and yanks, embarrassed, stomping to the other side of the elevator as if that will somehow make Lance shut up faster. It doesn’t, obviously, and he hears Lance laugh for several minutes until he finally winds down to giggling, then eventually nothing.

Keith harrumphs quietly to himself. He resolves to sticking in his corner like he should have from the very beginning, until the elevator starts moving again or someone on the team comes to save them. At this point he’s so done he wouldn’t even care if it was Shiro, wouldn’t even care if Shiro gloated about it for eternity (Keith saved his ass from government experimentation, anyway, so he wins by default for the rest of time). He faces his corner and pulls his knees to his chest and starts picking at a loose thread in the seam of his shorts to amuse himself.

Several minutes later, he hears Lance shifting. He ignores it. He pulls at the thread until it comes loose, then busies himself with tying the thread into the most complicated and random knot he can.

A few more minutes later, and there’s the sound of fabric rustling and draping, then quiet cursing. Keith untangles and retangles his knot for the fourth time.

After what must be a half hour, Keith hears the sound of teeth chattering.

He sighs. He looks forlornly at his knot.

“I could just ignore him,” he mutters to himself. “He probably won’t die.”

He thinks of how short Lance’s shorts are. He pinches his own towel in his fingertips, so thin he can practically feel his fingerprints. He remembers blue lips and a clenched jaw and raised gooseflesh.

He sighs loudly, more of a groan, and flicks his ball of thread away.

It takes Lance a few seconds to respond to Keith looming over him, which is worrying. But eventually he cracks open one brown eye and flares up at Keith.

“What,” he mutters. His teeth are chattering so bad it sounds like two words.

“You’re freezing,” Keith says. His voice is softer than he expected it to be.

Lance huffs, closing his eye again and curling further into himself. “No shit.”

Keith frowns. “I’m not.”

“Well, rub it in, why dontcha.”

Keith frowns. “You’re not understanding.”

Lance ignores him. Keith has a sudden and vivid memory of the year Shiro and Adam drove him up to Seattle in the winter so he could be more cultured, or whatever (or less of a desert menace, Adam had argued, and perhaps more inclined to stop biting people), and spent the whole car ride lecturing him about hypothermia.

“It doesn’t take very long to set in,” Shiro had said.

“And once you have it you need to warm up or your heart can stop,” Adam had finished, very serious.

Suddenly Keith starts to feel very panicked.

Lukewarm tea, warm blankets, skin to skin contact with someone who’s warm, were Shiro’s instructions. And then possibly hospital.

Well. Keith has one of those things.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he wraps a gentle hand around Lance’s shoulder, tugging him upright, then pulls him forward so his cradled hands are pressed against Keith’s chest and his head is tucked into the junction of Keith’s neck.

Worryingly, it takes Lance almost thirty seconds to start complaining.

“You smell like mullet,” he whines. But he doesn’t move away. In fact, he burrows closer.

Keith swallows down his worry. “Mullets don’t smell like anything, dumbass.” He brings his hands up to press against Lance’s back. Lance groans, curling deeper into Keith’s hold. His nose is icy and burns a trail across Keith’s shoulder, down his collarbone. Keith’s flush from earlier makes an enthusiastic return, because nothing good still exists in the world.

“I still think you’re annoying,” Lance mumbles. Every move of his lip brushes against Keith’s skin.

“Shut up and focus on not freezing to death,” Keith snaps.

Lance snorts. “I’m not gonna freeze to death, doofus. It’s just a dead elevator. Once I fell asleep on the Garrison rooftop in January and only had to spend three days in urgent care, so basically I can withstand anything.”

Keith pauses. He tries to reconcile the Lance who just said that to the Lance who came up with a life saving plan in thirty seconds on the Balmera to the Lance who threatened to stick Keith in a wormhole to the Lance who smiled and said they made a good team before passing out in Keith’s arms.

“You are a very confusing person,” he says when all the reconciling does absolutely nothing.

“Thank you,” Lance says, sounding pleased.

Keith snorts and tightens his hold. Lance sighs and sags a little. Slowly his fingers stop feeling so much like ice blocks, and his breathing doesn’t sound so erratic. Keith doesn’t know how long it’s been. He stopped trying to count somewhere between when Lance’s cheek squished against his chest and his fingers started tracing featherlight patterns across his skin.

Lance yawns. Keith tries to fight his but ends up yawning anyway.

“Is it bad to let a person with hypothermia sleep?” he mumbles, half-slurring his words.

Lance hums. “‘M not hypothermic.”

“Dunno. Could be.”

He sighs again, a puff of air against Keith’s neck, and spreads his palms against Keith’s chest, flat. “‘M not. You’re too warm.” He pauses. “Freak.”

His tone is fond. The corners of Keith’s lips quirk up. “Weirdo.”

“Mhm.”

He falls asleep trying to count Lance’s breaths. It’s — groundbreaking, somehow.

———

(“Oh, my God.”

Keith cracks open bleary eyes, lifting a hand to rub his face. Lance groans from his place on Keith’s chest — in a puddle of drool, why is that not nearly as revolting as it should be — and snatches Keith’s wrist way faster than he should be able to as groggy as he is, placing it back around his waist.

“Oh, my God,” the voice repeats, gleeful.

“Shut up, Shiro,” Keith mutters. “Fuck.”

It takes him a minute.

His eyes fly open at the same time as Lance’s, and they look at each other, and then Keith is being shoved and kicked at the same time somehow and Lance is scrambling backwards at the speed of light, screeching. A loud bang makes Keith look over and he discovers his brother, who is dead to him, collapsed on the floor, laughing so loud Zarkon can probably hear him.

“What — Shiro — go — stop fucking laughing, you piece of shit!”

Lance continues to screech. Keith whips a towel at him.

“You gay pining loser!” Shiro shrieks. “I’m going to tell literally everyone!”

Keith puts his head in his hands and wishes he’d fallen down the goddamn elevator shaft.)

[jinxedshapeshifter]

I've been listening to Loser, Baby from Hazbin Hotel on repeat despite having a minimal interest in Hazbin Hotel and tbh I think Loser, Baby might go in the "songs to listen to if you need cheering up" playlist lol.

It's just such a funny song but also the message isn't horrible. I love that it starts off sounding like Husk is just being a dick to Angel Dust for the sake of being a dick but no, he has a point to make (although I will say that it definitely feels like Husk is intentionally making it seem like he's being a dick to be a dick just to get a rise out of Angel, especially in the show lmao). So here are my takeaways from it:

Because I vaguely know what Husk is like in terms of his personality overall, I'm pretty confident in saying that he was intentionally trying to get a rise out of Angel to prove a point. Genuinely watching Angel slowly lose his mind as Husk bullies him is hilarious lmao

The entire song is basically Husk trying to get Angel to accept himself as he is and realize he's not alone, because Husk and Angel's flaws and trauma don't have to completely destroy them.

Disney underutilized Keith David in The Princess and The Frog

Husk says "But letting walls down, it can sometimes set you straight" and I think that's one of the biggest takeaways from Loser, Baby. Sometimes (usually. always) opening up is the first step to recovery.

The message of Loser, Baby is very much "You're not alone and you should feel more than free to embrace and own your flaws" and I love it. Loser, Baby doesn't suggest that being a loser is a bad thing, but something to embrace. Husk's goal isn't to put down Angel Dust, it's to get him to embrace a part of himself he's grown to hate and tell him that being damaged doesn't mean he should give into hopelessness (hell, he even accepts the parts of Angel that Angel himself hates with no hesitation), and especially in the context of the episode Loser, Baby appears in it's not a bad message.

i love these two and i love this song and i love how loser, baby promotes embracing aspects of yourself you hate

[discordiansamba]

The town of Plaht City is peaceful.

Sure, it can be a little weird sometimes- but most of it Hunk doesn't even notice. The only reason he knows about half of the weird sightings and odd things going on out in the desert is because his friends and devoted loyal customers, Pidge and Matt are always eager to talk about the subject.

Hunk's not really interested. He's just content to run his bakery, the Lion's Den. It's a two man operation at the moment- it's just him and his part timer, a slightly odd college student named Romelle. He makes it work, but it's clear that he could probably use some extra help. Unfortunately for him, he's also kind of picky when it comes to his employees. It took him like, two months after he'd first opened to even hire Romelle.

At least he's built up a loyal customer base! It doesn't hurt that Plaht City's oddball mayor, Coran Smythe is apparently a huge fan of his danishes, a fact which he tells everyone at every chance he gets. His niece Allura and her nephew Lotor come in basically every day, the former stopping by after picking up the latter from school. There's Pidge and Matt, of course, but he already mentioned them. And Lance is always hanging around, but that's a given because he's pretty sure his best friend is addicted to the ungodly sweet coffee concoction that is on the menu entirely because of him.

So things are going pretty great, all told!

Still, when a customer shows up five minutes before closing, part of Hunk can't help but heave an irritated sigh. He doesn't mind, necessarily- but there's no way to tell if this last minute customer is the type who'll linger or not. At least he's kind of cute, in a vaguely mysterious way. It's the combination of his dark hair and pale skin, plus the leather jacket and biker gloves that does it.

His eyes are like nothing he's seen before. He didn't even know people could have purple eyes.

He takes a moment to consider the menu- his eyes lingering extra long on the prices. He finally settles on a black coffee and one of the day old cookies that Hunk sells for half price. He pulls out a crumpled five dollar bill, and it suddenly sort of hits him that this might be all the money this guy even has.

He asks if there's a good place to camp out around here. Hunk points him in the direction of the campground his uncle runs. Turns out he's new in town. He says his name is Keith, asks if there's any place around here that's looking for temp workers that doesn't mind if they don't have a full high school education.

He's not sure what prompts him to do so, but Hunk asks him if he'd like to work here. Keith blinks, stares at him for a long few seconds- and then slowly shrugs. Sure, but he doesn't know much about baked goods.

The Lion's Den has a new employee the following morning.

[ishipmyotp]

So I watched Hazbin Hotel. And yeah. 4 years later and I still don't understand the massive hate boner people have for it. The first season wasn't bad, the first 3 episodes didn't grab me as much, but episode 4 onward was better. I think what's hindering the story the most is that it was only 8 episodes. You don't get any breathing room for anything in that time, especially character development. That said the character who has the strongest story off the bat is Angel Dust, which makes sense because from the start his personal story of escaping his abusive pimp is a simple yet solid premise, and compared to all the other characters his history with Valentino has been going on for way longer than the probably few weeks before episode one.

Alastor was also a blast to watch but I know since the pilot the biggest criticism of his character was the misrepresentation of voodoo which is sadly still present in the final show. All he does in the show is just be vaguely spooky while voodoo symbols float around him, so I don't see why it couldn't just be changed to a generic witchcraft with symbols made up for him. I also get people saying the characters say fuck too much but at the same time there are people who do legitimately say it that much irl (I got plenty irl experience haha) so like I get it but I also don't care that much. I know that people have issues with vivzies writing, and I have to wonder if it's partly because her shows have so few episodes to tell a story...idk

All in all it wasn't bad and the biggest issue is that it had 8 episodes to tell a story that should have had more. I hope in season 2 the writing improves and it has way more than 8 episodes (and that studios stop making seasons so short in general ffs). More Keith Davids songs don't hurt either