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symbioticsimplicity · 1 year

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I don’t need to be up this early but this idea won’t leave me.

So, Steddie Battle of the Bands AU featuring punk!Steve.

Corroded Coffin join a battle of the bands competition run out of a little bar just outside Indianapolis, expecting fully to make it all the way. There’s not a lot of musicians in their area and out of all of them, CC have the most milage and the most unique sound. Sure, it’s metal, but in the bigger city that’s not the death sentence it would be back in Hawkins.

For the most part, they’re right. There’s a little pop trio that do okay, a Bob Dylan type with an acoustic and the flattest, most nasal tone Eddie has ever heard, a rock outfit with a drummer who’s clearly on speed and fixing to pull a Spinal Tap, and one very old dude who’s there more for the fun than to actually compete. They’re a shoe-in.

Except there’s a punk band that were running a little late, and manage to take stage literally just as they’re being called. The Demogorgons, they’re called.

Eddie is pissed the instant he sees them, firstly because he’s been on sight with punks since ‘84 when a flock of the little shits dissed Dio to his fucking face. Second because out of all the things they could have been called, they picked a DND creature??! In Eddie’s house??? Who the fuck did they think they were?!

The longer Eddie watches them play (he can’t leave until they announce who’s moving on from this round, he’s literally a captive audience), the more pissed off he gets because they’re good.

The lead guitarist is a girl with dark, short hair mostly hiding her face, but she’s absolutely slaying their cover of White Wedding, adding more than was originally in the song seemingly on the fly. It’s beautiful, as a guitarist himself he can at least begrudgingly respect her talent.

The bassist is also a girl with short hair who seems like she’s in her own world, totally lost in the music and jamming so hard Eddie can’t really look at her for too long without getting sucked in with her.

The drummer looks like an absolute madman, big buff blonde guy who looks like he’d bite if anyone got too close to him. He’s bare chested, showing off a few tattoos and a couple piercings that make him far more interesting than Eddie cares to admit.

But the singer/ rhythm guitarist, is what is really tripping Eddie up.

He’s prettier than he has any goddamn need to be, and he’s weirdly smiley for a punk. Like being on stage is his happy place, which Eddie can relate to, even if he hates admitting any commonalities between them at all. His voice too, is lovely. It’s not the typical scratchy punk sound, it’s high and airy and from a technical standpoint (only that, Eddie swears) it’s really good. And he seems like he’s not having any trouble playing and singing at the same time, which is shitty as hell because Eddie still does sometimes.

Before their set ends, Eddie has decided he hates them. He hates them, so much.

So much in fact, he goes over to heckle them once they finish.

It goes south almost immediately.

He was right, the drummer is definitely a maniac. It’s like he was waiting for an excuse to fight someone. And given how fast the singer snatches him up after he decks Eddie, this is a frequent thing. The singer and the drummer posture at each other and for a second Eddie thinks they’re about to fight.

But evidently the drummer thinks better of it and stalks off to start helping put their gear up.

The singer apologizes for his bandmate, even though Eddie started the fight, and introduces himself as Steve, the drummer being named Billy. He’s a good kid, Steve tells him, just angry and still learning where to put that anger. He offers to buy Eddie a drink for his trouble, and he’s so floored he ends up accepting.

To Eddie’s surprise, they end up talking, and they end up talking a lot. Steve is easy to talk to, and he listens like what Eddie has to say is important. When he talks, it’s with this sardonic edge to it that reminds Eddie of sour candy. Before he knows it, it’s been like three hours, and it’s time to announce who’s advancing to the next round.

To Eddie’s complete lack of surprise, Corroded Coffin make it through, but so do The Demogorgons. Steve congratulates him, sincerely, and Eddie stutters out the same.

They part ways for the night, but the pretty punk with the prettier smile won’t leave Eddie’s thoughts.

Cue CC telling Eddie to get his head in the game, trying to head off the crush they can spot forming. They know him well enough to know the signs, and they don’t need him pulling a Romeo and Juliet with some punk he met for one night.

Little do they know, The Demogorgons are having a similar chat with their own lead. They’ve worked too hard to have Steve get distracted, or worse, go soft, over some greasy metalhead he’s only talked to like, once. Steve of course promises that he won’t. After all, it’s not like he’s really going to see him much, and Steve isn’t easy, he has to get to know someone to fall for them.

Cut to a week later when one Steve Harrington is dropping Dustin off at his DND thingy, only to see none other than Eddie Munson perched at the head of the table. He’s explaining what their quest is for the night, or something, and he’s so animated, so into it, he doesn’t notice Steve frozen in the doorway.

Steve makes it out before Eddie sees him, but from that moment on it’s like he’s every where Steve goes. They bump into each other constantly, Hawkins is a small town, it’s easy to do. It gets to be such a regular thing that Eddie makes a joke about following Steve, and Steve sings that Rockwell song about being followed and they find themselves laughing together again.

It’s easy, really. Too easy. And before they know it, whenever they bump into each other, they end up talking for a while. It’s just a few minutes, they both reason to themselves, a few minutes is fine.

But a few minutes turns into an hour, turns into a couple hours, turns into a smoke sesh at Eddie’s, turns into a jam sesh at Steve’s, and before they know it, they’re missing each other when the other isn’t around.

Of course it isn’t long before Gareth notices his best friend’s preoccupation, and Robin could clock Steve’s daydreamy look three miles away. They each come clean to their respective long-suffering bestie.

Neither are happy, but they both care more about their friend than some stupid band competition. They know the rest of their bands won’t be happy, and that could be a pain, so rather than being even slightly reasonable, they hatch a plan.

Eddie and Steve are determined to be the punk-metal version of Romeo and Juliet, but that doesn’t mean their story has to be a tragedy. This is a musical, afterall. What better to do than bridge the gap with the power of music.

So the next time Eddie and Steve hang out, they both spend probably fifteen minutes uncomfortably dancing around trying to ask the other to write a song with them.

Steve cracks first, because seeing Eddie uncomfortable is so fucking bizarre it trumps his own nerves and he has to ask what’s going on. Eddie decides to be brave and takes the leap, asks Steve what he’s got to ask, and to his surprise Steve tells him he was going to ask the same thing.

They haven’t really talked about it, the tension between them, but it boils over when Steve tries to explain why he wants to write a song with Eddie. Eddie can’t watch him flounder for a second more, when he knows he could just be kissing him instead.

He takes Steve by the jaw and kisses the soul out of him. If they weren’t sold they were doing the right thing before, the kiss seals the deal.

They spend the night trading kisses and lyrics in equal measure, alternating between strumming strings and heartstrings until they’re both so caught up in creation, in each other, they’re harmonic.

After that, they hit crunch time. The battle of the bands is next week, and learning a whole new song is a pain in the ass for both bands. It’ll be worth it, but Jeff doesn’t know that and Billy doesn’t care.

The boys make time to see each other, but of course, they get caught.

Band practice gets postponed on both sides of the fence. They know they shouldn’t, it’s stupid, but Eddie spent the day getting harassed by a flock of “Concerned Christian Mothers” who were not shy about telling him exactly what they thought about him, and would not get the hell out of his face about it. Steve is a caretaker down to his bones, and doesn’t think twice about going to care for his metalhead.

Nancy however isn’t stupid, and Grant knows damn well Eddie would only postpone practice if something was genuinely wrong. So Nancy follows Steve to see what the hell could be so important to him that he’d call off practice, and Grant goes to bring Eddie a care package.

Nancy isn’t happy about finding the two spooning on Eddie’s couch, but she doesn’t make as much of a fuss about it as Grant does. Grant goes off about sleeping with the enemy and treachery and the metalhead code of honor (which he made up right there on the spot), but the real bucket of cold water is Nancy telling Steve how disappointed she is that he pulled them all into this, made them care about it, only to waste his time chasing after someone instead of putting his heart into the music the way they all had been. She asks him to get serious, then leaves.

Steve excuses himself, ignoring Eddie’s pleas to wait a second, come back, please, let’s talk about this.

They don’t see each other again until the night of the show.

The competition threw them a curveball, however. None of them know until they get there, see the layout of the big warehouse like space, but instead of playing one after the other, the competition is amp versus amp. CC are freaking out a little bit because they’ve never played that way before, and Eddie is picking up an acoustic, why the hell did he even bring an acoustic, what’s going on?? The Demogorgons are equally nervous, this being a first for them too, and Steve is quiet, so quiet, he’s never like this before shows, what’s going on??

Despite everyone’s nerves and fears, the two bands take their places on the two stages, on opposite ends of the room from one another.

Eddie introduces Corroded Coffin with the same flare he usually does, but tells the audience that tonight’s performance is going to be a little different than their usual. He finishes with “This one’s for you, Juliet.”

He starts strumming the acoustic, the song he and Steve had written together filling the space, warm and full and a wild departure from their usual sound. He’d gone over it with the guys, added some polish to it, made it more metal, but he’d asked them to hold off on that until he cued them.

“And hey darling, I hope you’re good tonight. And I know you don’t feel right when I’m leaving-”

The rest of Corroded Coffin have never heard Eddie sing like this, didn’t even know he could. Usually he was all growls and grit and demon noises he’d figured out how to imitate. They had no idea he was even capable of making a song sound so beautiful.

Eddie continues singing his heart out, strumming his guitar, praying that Steve picks up on what he’s doing, joins him at the drop, doesn’t leave him again. He’s nearly convinced himself he’s going to end up singing the whole thing alone, and God how stupid would that be, that when he reaches the switching point, he nearly drops his guitar when Steve’s voice rises up to meet him. A spotlight flicks on, illuminating him as he sings into the microphone, playing his own part of the accompanyment.

“And hey, sweetie, well I need you here to night. And I know you don’t wanna be leaving me here tonight-”

Steve’s voice is the perfect counterbalance to Eddie’s. It’s light where his is heavy, soft where his is gritty. It showcases their duality, while highlighting how good they are together and Eddie would cry if he weren’t on stage.

He takes the next verse as planned, but Steve’s voice stays with him, harmonizing along side him so perfectly it’s as if they’ve been singing together for years rather than about a week.

“You know you can’t give me what I need, and even though you mean so much to me, I can’t wait through everything.”

That’s different, not the line they wrote together. It lands like a gut punch when Eddie looks up and sees Steve’s expression. He’s not smiling. He always smiles on stage.

“Is this really happening?” Eddie sings back without missing a beat, knowing the next verse is his, meaning it might be his only chance. He prays to every muse he’s ever had to lend him the improv skills to land this.

To his suprise, he hears Jeff’s heavy guitar start to build, Grant’s bass swooping in beside it to flank him. When he turns his head to check, they both give him the nod, the one that’s always meant they’re beside him, for better or worse. It gives him to courage to put his soul into the words he’s about to spit.

“I swear I’ll never be happy again, and don’t you dare say we can just be friends, I’m not some boy that you can sway.”

There’s a half a second pause in the music, just long enough to wreck Eddie’s heartrate. He can see Steve’s face from here, not clearly enough to make out every emotion that flashes across it, but enough to see when it lands on determination.

“We knew it’d happen eventually.” He and Steve sing, or in his case shout, in tandem.

Corroded Coffin fall back in with them, and to Eddie’s utter surprise, The Demogorgons join them. The sound of two bands playing the climax of the song he and Steve had written together hits Eddie so hard he can barely sing past the balloon of emotion swelling in his chest.

The crowd reminds him they’re there, joining in on the chorus of ‘La la las’ going around the room, their voices loud enough to shake the walls. It’s everything Eddie has ever wanted from a crowd, and it’s way too much along with everything else going on right now. Eddie can’t focus on it, not when Steve is staring him down from across the room.

“If you can wait ‘till I get home, then I swear we can make this last.” Eddie belts, Steve’s higher register wrapping around the notes the same way his hands wrap around his mic.

Both bands let the song taper out, leaving just the crowd echoing back the words to them, just Steve and Eddie singing to each other.

Eddie reaches out his hand, as if he could take Steve’s in his despite the distance. Steve once again meets him halfway, extending his own hand as if to bridge the distance.

The lights go down and the crowd is still chanting. It takes longer to settle them down than it does to make the decision to shrug off his guitar and run to his boy. Eddie hesitates only to look over at his bandmates.

They look exhasperated, but fond. Grant rolls his eyes and tells him to go kiss his stupid punk or whatever.

Eddie is off in an instant.

He finds Steve tearing his way over to him, runs straight into him almost the same way he’d run into him the first time they met outside of a venue.

There aren’t words, they don’t need them, already sung them. There’s just Steve and Eddie and how badly they’ve missed each other. The apologies and affirmations can come later, when their mouths aren’t so busy kissing the life from one another.

In the back of his mind, Eddie registers some of the crowd around them wolf whistling, but for once he doesn’t give much of a shit what the crowd thinks of him.

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hawkinshighdropout · 2 years

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Hideout Hangout.

Part Two To This Original Story!

Pairing: Eddie Munson x (female) Reader

Summary: Tuesday Night, Eight O'clock rolls around, and you're on your way to see Corroded Coffin in concert at The Hideout. You promised Eddie you'd be there, was it worth the trip downtown? Spoiler Alert: It was.

Warnings: No warnings, this is purely fluff/pure content. Unless you count a couple of curse words as needing a warning? Idk, I haven’t written fanfics in like 8 years so I’m a little rusty…

Note/Request: Requested by @thetenthdoctorscompanion. "Hello! I would like to FORMALLY request a Part 2 for your girlie at the record store. Can we see her showing up to the Corroded Coffin concert at the Hideout? I'd like to think that Eddie DEFINITELY knew her name but marked it down to her name tag to be cheeky. (After all, the name tag is part of her uniform, so he's probably seen it before.) Maybe one of his bandmates lets slip that Eddie's talked about her before? And/or Eddie gets her a drink or CC tee because, after all, he does owe her 😉"

Word Count: 1.8k

Send me prompts to write about!

Tuesday. 8 o’clock. The Hideout. You read those same lines over and over again from the page you had ripped out of your notepad just days before. You could recite it from memory st this point, but your nerves made you doubt yourself so you had to keep checking that you were in the right place. Dressed in a very simple outfit; Black Vans, black skinny jeans, a faded black Motörhead t-shirt and soft brown denim jacket thrown over the top, stood outside of the venue entrance. It stunk of cheap beer and you could tell by the muffled music coming from inside that you were at the right place.

Stuffing the note into your pocket, you clear your throat and give yourself an internal pep talk before entering the venue. It’s not like you were unwelcomed here, you didn’t even really standout from the crowd… apart from being about 20 years younger than everyone sipping their drinks, you just felt out of place. This wasn’t your side of town, you really had to get out of your comfort zone to be here. To see Eddie. You’d promised him, after all.

Shuffling in the door, you looked around a little taken aback. Guitars hung from the walls alongside posters of half naked women and beer, music was much louder inside and heavily tattooed and bearded men lined the bars. Not the type that would cat call you on your way home from school, not at all. The type of old school metal heads who would help you if your cat got stuck up a tree, or would comfort you if you needed someone. The vibe here was nice. A little… unhinged, but certainly welcoming.

“Hey, uh. Am I at the right place?” You ask the closest guy to you at the bar, pulling out your piece of paper once again and smiling shyly at the nod of confirmation you were given.

“What can I get you, sweetheart?” The bartended asks you, she’s a sweet older woman who’s visibly tatted. Smoking out the side of her lip whilst cleaning the inside of a pint glass, she has kind eyes.

“Um… Can I get a Dr. Pepper please?”

She smiles in your direction and immediately gets to work on fetching you the drink, you pay the tab, thank her, and disappear off to find a seat near the back. You’d have a perfect view of the stage, without being in anyones way from here. Sipping at your drink, you’re nervously looking around the place trying to find any visible proof that Eddie was even here. The band currently playing weren’t the ones you were looking for, and it was getting close to the time he had given you.

Startled slightly, looking up from your watch, you see one of the slightly younger metal heads smiling down at you. You didn’t know him? Did you? No… you almost recognise him but you can’t put your finger on it.

“Can I help you?” You ask softly.

“Y/N, right?” He says, plonking himself down in the seat opposite you without even stopping to ask if it was taken. Eyes laser focused on him, unsure of what this situation would spiral out into. A stranger knew your name, a stranger on the other side of town that you’ve never spoken to, is now sitting opposite you and telling you you’re name.

“That’s me… Hi?” A quizzical expression on your face, still hoping the stranger would explain himself.

“I knew it! Hi, I’m Eddie’s bandmate, Jeff. I’m surprised you’re here, he’s been nonstop talking about some “hot chick” that works at the Music Store that’s coming to see us play. I assumed it was bullshit, glad to know you’re real.” He rambled, smug grin on his face as you could feel your cheeks heating up with embarrassment.

“Hot chick?” You question, only to be quickly interrupted by a booming voice you could recognise anywhere.

“Heeeeeeey, Jeff. Why don’t you and your big mouth go ahead and make sure everything’s in order for our show, hm?” Eddie is half kidding, half giving him a death glare. You watch as Jeff raises his hands up to his chest in defence, quickly climbing from his seat to head backstage.

“Nice to meet you!” Jeff calls as he leaves.

You raise your brow at Munson, expecting an explanation or apology, anything to clarify what that was all about. Instead, he just plopped down across the table from you.

“Ignore him, would ya?” Eddie rolls his eyes, shaking his head in mild annoyance as he grabs a couple pretzel bites from the centre of the table. Throwing them back into his mouth as his arms fold across his chest, gaze flickering over your frame as you sit looking puzzled across from him.

“So… ‘Hot chick’ hm?” You snort, leaning in to take a sip from your drink, watching his cheeks immediately burn pink.

“Shut up.” He pouts like a child, refusing to give eye contact with you for a couple seconds before caving and glancing your way. “I’m not wrong, so.” He mumbles, shrugging his shoulders as he seemed to agree with his previous statement about you.

“Whatever you say, Rockstar…” you mutter with a teasing tone, only for Eddie to laugh and flip you the bird. That’s where it ends for now as Jeff is calling for Eddie as their set it about to start.

“Well, sweetheart. I’ll be back with you after my show. Enjoy, won’t you?” And just like that, his cocky attitude seeped back into him, winking your way before sliding off the chair and wandering back to his group. You were quiet as his band was introduced to the stage, a couple of the other customers giving a subtle acknowledgement to their existence.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Corroded Coffin.” the bartender announced, giving a small round of applause before she disappears back behind the counter to continue working.

——

After the band had played a handful of songs, mostly original works but with a few covers thrown in here and there, the set was over. You had thoroughly enjoyed the whole night and they were surprisingly good. You’re not sure why you were surprised, but you were.

Eddie, a little sweaty now, made his way back over to you with a beer in hand. Lazily slinking down into his chair as he sipped, facing you with a smug grin.

“So… How’d you like it?” He asks.

Your eyes light up and your smile widens, immediately leaning closer to him and beginning to praise him and his band’s work, the most genuine smile appearing on his face as you seemed to talk about him with such high honour. His arms folded across themselves and resting on the table between you both, looking like a happy little puppy with his big brown eyes as you’re complimenting his every element.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. You should come out and see us more often, hm?” He says softly, raising one brow in question before sipping once more at his drink.

“I’d love to, honestly. Count me in.” You nodded enthusiastically, before sipping more at the Dr. Pepper you had half abandoned the moment he went on stage, captivated by his presence.

“We’re getting paid pretty soon for this gig, so if you stick around I can give you back the money I owe the store.” Eddie offers, genuine intentions of making up the money he owes, it was only a couple dollars, but it was principle.

“Oh, no, you’re all good! Don’t even worry about it, you keep it, it’s fine.” You reassure him, shaking your head as you knew you had no plans to take the money.

“What? No! Come on, you did me a solid and you came all this way here, I owe you. Remember? Well… I could buy you a drink and call it even—“ he starts, glancing at your drink that’s no sign of needing replenishing yet, looking around before snapping his fingers once he has an idea. “A shirt! I can give you a shirt, hold up—“ and just like that he’s off, scurrying backstage with you sat there looking bewildered.

That boy was a ball of energy. You just sipped at your drink in his absence, smile most definitely widening when he came back with fabric in hand. Sitting down, he holds up the shirt and shows you it for your approval, matching the one he wore the other day at the Music Store. You would refuse as you knew the cost difference between a cassette and a whole t-shirt would be far more expensive than the debt he even held, but his eyes were insistent, causing you to cave.

Taking the shirt in your hands, you’re glancing over every detail with a shake of your head. You loved the shirt, but now you felt as if the debt was in your pocket. Glancing up at him with a pout as you point to the shirt.

“You owed the store a couple bucks, this shirt probably cost you like $20 to make. I can’t just accept this, let me pay you, please?” you beg softly, reaching for your pocket to grab out your wash.

“Hey, hey, hey. No. You’re taking the shirt and I’m not taking any of your money.” He insisted, taking both of your hands in his own and squeezing them reassuringly. “I don’t want your money.”

“But… Now I owe you…” you pout like a child, giving him the best puppy dog eyes you could muster up in hopes to convince him to take the money. Trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach with his warm hands holding you so delicately.

A smirk quickly appeared on his face as he nodded, you did in fact owe him now. You expected some sort of truce in the form of coming to more of his shows or giving him more discounts on records, not what came out of his mouth.

“Go on a date with me, and we’re even.” His face had this cocky and smug grin plastered across it, but his eyes were a lot softer. It seemed as if his cheeky plan was set up to cover his true intentions, so he wouldn’t actually get shot down by you if he just asked without the favours being involved.

“A date?” Puzzled, your brows furrowed and a nervous smile on your lips. You weren’t sure if this was some kind of prank, but the way his thumbs would trace across the tops of your knuckles made you quickly think otherwise.

“Mhm… A date, sweetheart.” He repeats.

“Name the time and place, Munson.” You say sweetly, cheeks warm to the touch from the nerves floating around your system, the two of you just grinning like a couple of school kids at one another.

A date. A real date. With Eddie Munson.

Things just got interesting.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fluff #stranger things smut #stranger things oneshot #joseph quinn #eddie munson #eddie munson edit #eddie fluff #fanfic #reader insert #stranger things #Eddie munson imagine

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stobinesque · 8 months

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♡☮♦ for jeff 💗

♡ - romantic headcanon

That man is a gentle smooth talker if ever I saw one oh my god. Like, actually, I think more charming than Steve. Because he's not as like...ostentatious about it? Steve is trying (and excepting s3, succeeding) at being charming, but Jeff is just charming without trying. He's a naturally kind and bighearted kind of person. Very doting, and just kind of exudes that at everyone around him, whether platonic or romantic. Also definitely has a playful, snarky side, but that's not where he lives, y'know?

I think he's very physically affectionate, and big into small romantic gestures (randomly picking up a bouquet of flowers from the drugstore, surprising his partner at work with a cup of coffee, picking up something small because it made him think of them, etc.).

☮ - friendship headcanon

So, so loyal, but in a very level-headed kind of way. I think for a lot of ST characters loyalty can manifest in some violently protective ways, but I don't see that for Jeff so much. He can hold a grudge, but he needs to know All The Facts of a situation before he will because the truth of the matter is he sees his friends with such rose-colored glasses that he actually fundamentally can't understand why someone wouldn't like them. This means that he's also good at playing peacekeeper amongst the CC boys (a la S1 Dustin, actually). But if you do trigger a Jeff Grudge??? There is no coming back from that. You're on his Shit List for life. Doesn't matter if his friends forgive you. That lane is now closed to you.*

I....might be projecting onto him.

*This never applies to Steve, because I never headcanon Steve as having ever been actually shitty to any of the CC boys. Jeff is maybe wary of Steve at first, but is the most willing of the group (after Eddie) to give him the benefit of the doubt

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

So he's obviously into metal, but I think he's also big into black musical history in general, too? Loves spirituals and blues music and jazz. Like I think he's an all out nerd about it. He'll also listen to absolutely anything with a sick guitar line, doesn't matter the genre.

I know the 80s is early for this, but I can sooo see him as a hacky sack enthusiast?? Idk love the idea of Jeff having a sort of mindless fidgety hobby. (Yo-yo is also a little too after his time but would also fit this).

Also in JISBA verse he's kind of like a...classic romance (and erotica) enthusiast? Austen, Chopin, Lawrence etc.

also bonus random headcanon is that to me his last name is Lincoln so i'm just gonna start tagging my personal jeff posts that way from now on lmao.

#halp i have so many feelings about this man #jeff stranger things #jeff lincoln #read.txt #hcs #ask game #janai 💜

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diagnosed-anxiety-disorder · 2 years

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I AM LOSING MY MIND OVER A SONIC ROCK BAND AU SO IMMA MAKE A BUNCH OF HEADCANONS BECAUSE I CANNOT CONTAIN THIS

this is what happens when you mix an emo punk rock fan with the sonic universe-

Sonic - Lead singer / guitar (kinda like Billie Joe Armstrong or Dexter Holland) Shadow - guitar / backing vocals (Frank Iero. NEED I SAY MORE) Tails - keyboardist / synth / DJ (it's giving Cumulus from Ghost or Sid from Slipknot) Silver - bass guitar (maybe even like the Geddy Lee pedal set up too) Knuckles - drummer (with the Neil Peart drum set up and CC from BVB vibes)

Sonic: pop punk vibe!!

probably shreads too fast on the guitar and loses his guitar picks every goddamn minute so he has his entire mic stand covered with those guitar pick holders

does the thing that Freddy Mercury does where he picks up the mic stand and walks around while singing

definitely crowd surfs and tells the mosh pit to go wild

*kicks over amp* AAAAAAAA

has random stickers over EVERYTHING, guitar case, guitar, you name it

reads all of the signs in the audience and sometimes replies to them

stops the show in the middle and starts ranting about literally whatever

*trips over every wire possible* IM OKAY!!

comes up with lyrics with Shadow. sonic's better at delivering than composing

mini list of songs he would FUCK UP /pos

Pretty Fly (For A White Guy) by The Offspring

The Zoo by Scorpions (him and Shadow are probably obsessed with the Scorpions bc theyre a good band with rock ballads)

Fist Bump from Sonic Forces (i hc that he sings this as a duet with Shadow. i feel like their voices would go well together)

MeMe from Miligram (i also hc that Sonic knows Japanese if it isnt canon)

In Too Deep by Sum 41

Shadow: classic rock, hard rock, rock ballads, heavy metal and EMO

he either stays in one place the whole show or runs around

Frank Iero chaotic energy i wanna see him go wild

contrasting to his introverted personality, on stage since the audience is all dark and he cant see the MASSIVE crowd the band has, he feels like he can let loose and stuff

he probably has had his fingers start bleeding during a live but didnt notice until Silver started freaking out

has probably broke down and cried on stage once but everyone comforted him and he finished the show EPICALLY

always makes sure that the crowd is staying safe. probably did that one thing that Andy Biersack did when he jumped into the crowd to personally fight this one guy

oh yeah he will also get pissed if you diss the band at their show or if you're just being an asshole and will deal with you personally

will beat you up if you assault someone in the pit

WALL OF DEATH WALL OF DEATH WALL OF DEATH

definitely a perfectionist and probably studied classical music theory. definitely a JS Bach fan and played the piano once

comes up with lyrics and melody line

mini list of songs he would do amazing on:

Mobius by HiiragiKirai cover by Meychan

The Show Must Go On by Queen (HES SUCH A QUEEN FAN ISTG)

Dragula by Rob Zombie

Infected by Bad Religion

Gone Away by The Offspring (he's def thinking abt Maria for this one) gone away lyrics yeah ouch-

Tails: also classic rock fan but he also likes vocaloid!!

"accidentally" G notes the crowd (emos)

*plays a rick roll sample randomly*

during the parts where he doesn't have anything to do he just starts flying and tossing signed photo cards or some kind of merch into the crowd

probably manages some part of their social media as well

literally live tweeting the performance

is the supplier of Sonic's extra guitar pics and sometimes makes custom ones for him that are a bit more grippy? (idk how guitar pics work im a violinist)

honestly the most wholesome person there, everyone loves him, he goes apeshit sometimes but we love him

multi-instrumentalist and sometimes even makes his own instruments!

he plays the Theramin and nobody knows what it is but it sounds cool

makes up tracks on the spot during solos sometimes

CHORDS GO BRR

is the one that does the mixing and stuff for their songs

personal favs he would love:

Jump by Van Halen (everyone likes this song, if you dont then ur wrong /lh)

Kingslayer by BMTH & BABYMETAL

Lost Valley from Sonic Forces (I LOVE THIS SONG SM)

Silver: goth, heavy metal, Ghost specifically

owns a Mikey Fucking Way t-shirt

probably can play the upright bass or cello as well

people from the audience give him gifts and it makes him very happy

also has a lot of stickers on his bass and it's case but the stickers are color coded and organized vs sonics random bullshit GO

i like to think that he wears fingerless gloves

is the one that stops Shadow from jumping into the crowd when someone disses the band

always makes sure that everyone in the band has like a solo area where they can just go wild because he thinks it's more fun that way

probably can do improv on the spot

gets excited when they have an acoustic live show

helps come up with album cover ideas and all of the depth in their album / song lore

Last Train To London by ELO (hes probably a big ELO fan)

Detroit Rock City by KISS (this is my dad's fav so it's mine too)

The Legacy by Black Veil Brides

Knuckles: thrash metal Slayer fan TM

can do the thing where the drumset go upside down

similar to Sonic, he throws his drumsticks bc he loves playing so much so he has a bunch of extra sticks

ties back his hair during recording bc it gets in his face

HEADBANGING WOOOOO

has A BUNCH of song cover suggestions for the band

probably plays the drums randomly while sonic is ranting and sometimes does a duet with tails

sings along to the songs but nobody can hear him bc his drums are too damn loud

accidentally stabbed his snare drum once and started panicking

he definitely gives a name to all of his different drum parts (his favorite is the crash symbol and bass drum)

everyone thinks he was a former band kid but he keeps denying it

sometimes people think the band is using a drum machine but they're not

SONG HCS

Raining Blood by Slayer

1000 Memories by Bad Religion

Eyeless by Slipknot (RIP JOEY JORDINSON I WILL CRY)

You Give Love A Bad Name by Bon Jovi

ok and now for some random headcanons!!

Rouge is the agent or like manager for the group and helps pick out outfits for them and does stage design

ik i put in a lot of classic rock songs in my song headcanons but i feel like the band would be like a Smashing Pumpkins, early BVB, The Offspring and Sum 41 kinda vibe. and ofc MCR and Blink-182

everyone is a fan favorite, but they all dont know how to interact with fans except for Tails and Sonic

Silver and Tails sitting alone in the recording studio in the middle of the night writing a song aaaaa

sonic and shadow doing those song battles

they all play guitar hero, it's the law

they actually freaked out when MCR dropped the new single out of NOWHERE

sometimes their punk songs is just dissing G.U.N.

they have a fanart / fangift wall where they put all of the stuff their fans give them

the tour bus is like sectioned off and everyone decorates their space differently so it looks like 5 different aesthetics in one place

IM SORRY THIS IS SO LONG BUT IM SO PASSIONATE ABOUT THIS I DISREGARDED ALL OF MY HOMEWORK TO WRITE THIS OKAY BYE

#sonic band au #sonic headcanons #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #tails the fox #silver the hedgehog #knuckles the echidna #MY BRAIN GO BRRRR #guitarist sonic #lead singer sonic #guitarist shadow #keyboardist tails #bassist silver #drummer knuckles

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falkenbergfalkenberg87 · 2 years

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caldwellcarson0 · 2 years

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itsonlydana · 3 years

Note

Can I request a second part of The Boy On The Bus ? It's so cute-

"warm hands" ➷ Foolish_Gamers

↳ part ⅰ

pairing: cc!Foolish x gn!reader

tags/warnings: none, fluff

an: didn´t exactly know where i was going with this but i watched a rom com-movie while writing soooo (please someone take them away for me) ↳ requests are still open!

It was surprising how quickly Noah and you had fallen into a routine when you had just really gotten to know each other. Every morning you would save the seat next to you on the school bus until you arrived at Noah's station and after a brief greeting, you would make yourself comfortable on his shoulder and sleep the rest of the way to school where he would wake you up.

What wasn't surprising was how quickly you fell in love with each other, after all, one conversation with Noah was enough to completely fall for him and his personality.

It had started with him insisting that you touch his freezing cold hands every morning, as he had accidentally forgotten his gloves at home, which led to him holding your hands for the ride.

Of course, this was so his would warm up, definitely not because he liked the way you gripped his hands tighter while you slept.

Excitedly you slid back and forth in your seat, on your lap a small package in light blue wrapping paper on which you had neatly written Noah's name last night, written deliberately with one of your silver pens.

You could see the red bobble hat from a distance, and Noah entered the bus with the other students, pushing his way through to you with a grin on his face. At his seat, he dropped his backpack and flipped open his black coat before sitting down next to you.

"Hi you.", like every morning he placed his cool hands on your cheeks before kissing you on the lips and you could taste the light vanilla flavor of his lip balm.

Today you deepened the kiss a little, mumbling a soft "Happy Birthday" against his lips.

Noah pulled the red hat off his head, ran his hands through his black hair to make it look presentable, and then turned his attention to the small gift in your lap. "Is that for me?" he asked, examining the shark paper with a grin.

"No, I know another Noah whose birthday is today." You handed him the gift, eager for his reaction.

Noah took it, but still looked at you skeptically. "You'd tell me if you met a cooler Noah, right? Because I'm sure to be the coolest of them all."

"Of course I'd tell you."

Impatient as he was, he didn't spend long tugging at the package, ripping it open on the side and pulling out the brown box on which you had drawn little hearts, stuffing the remaining paper into the side pocket of his backpack.

As he extra dramatically slowly opened the box, you propped your chin on his shoulder, leaning your head against his.

A delighted squeal escaped Noah as he pulled out his gift and immediately examined it from all angles. It was a small synthetic bag in the shape of a penguin wearing a red pom-pom hat and scarf. "It's sooo cute!" he squealed, holding the penguin in his hands.

"Mhmm, look," you pressed the small metal plate that floated in the water that filled the bag, whereupon the liquid instantly crystallized and became solid.

Noah almost dropped the penguin, surprised by the heat the now solid object radiated. "What.. what happened?"

You turned the penguin over onto its back, which was not printed with the design, and tapped the hard surface. "There's a salt water solution in there that retains heat and when you press on the plate the solution crystallizes because of sound waves and releases the heat. When it's cold you can put it in hot water, then it becomes liquid again and can be used again," you explained the function of the pocket warmer to him.

With wide-open eyes he looked at the hot penguin in his hands, like a technological marvel, but then enclosed it, sighing. "It's like an oven." he stated, turning his head to kiss you on the temple. "Thank you, but you didn't gift me this because you don't like my cold hands, have you?"

You laughed softly, shaking your head slightly as best you could on his shoulder. "No, but if you ever have to drive alone in the morning or I forget my gloves too we don't have to worry about freezing to death."

With your hands in his and the little stove between them, you snuggled into his side, listening to him talk about his morning and what gifts he had gotten from his family, but that none were ever as great as yours.

#mcyt imagine #mcyt writing #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x you #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x reader #mcyt foolish fanfiction #foolish gamers fanfiction #foolish imagine #foolish gamers x reader #foolish x reader #foolish x you #foolish x y/n #dsmp x reader #dream smp x reader

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spartanguard · 2 years

Note

I mean, that evil twin, merman angst/freekilly, dark CC and davy jones? mymyyyyy ya got all my attention 👀👀👀

lol I was hoping I had ;)

I talked about Dark CC and merman angsttt already, so for the others...

Evil Twin I'm pretty sure started as a not-so-anonymous prompt from @kat2609 based on the premise that more Killians was a good idea (wayyy before we actually had two of them in canon) and I got rolling with the idea that he had a twin who was given up very young in the same way that James was (so cue some Captain Charming bonding). Said twin--Dorian Gray--was raised by Zoso with the intention of eventually becoming the Dark One, but that obviously didn't happen. The way 5A ended kind of blew up my plan but I think I did start picking at this again a while ago? here's a bit:

It was a short walk to the main drag of the town. A seedy bar, ridiculously named The Rabbit Hole, was definitely calling to his baser instincts. The diner across the street was still open, and a few town residents were making their way home in the twilight. He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up to hide his face, letting the embers from the cigarette illuminate his jagged scar, strong nose, and blue eyes in a threatening manner. To his surprise, though, the few people he passed on his journey to nowhere-yet actually acknowledged his presence, and even seemed to give him a nod or a smile—he certainly wasn’t the neighborly type, so why these dimwitted townsfolk saw fit to welcome him was baffling. By the time he reached the street corner, it was forgotten, as something far more interesting had captured his interest: Dark One...residue, he supposed. There was no sign of the actual sorcerer, but he’d definitely been nearby, and left a trace. The trail seemed to lead him to one Mr. Gold’s Pawnshop. It was faint, but there was definitely something sinister about the little store—so many of the seemingly random objects displayed in the window had any number of macabre uses. My kind of place. He tried to turn the doorknob, but it wouldn’t budge. So he waited a moment. Again, his palm glowed orange, and a hissing sound filled the air as he melted his way in. With the knob and deadbolt reduced to molten metal, pushing the door open was nothing, and he proceeded to investigate the shop.

Davy Jones is actually pretty different from anything I've done, in that it's from Liam's point of view in an alternate version of the underworld (much more like what we saw in POTC3). It follows him finding himself aboard the Flying Dutchman and the afterlife he makes there, filled with some familiar faces. Honestly, I should just finish this one--it's been outlined for years and I think there's 9k written? Just need to do it. a sample:

“I was a stubborn arse, Grandfather. Killian is wise beyond his years; I should have listened. And now he’s alone.” David put a sympathetic hand on Liam’s shoulder and squeezed. There was nothing but sadness and compassion in his grandfather’s eyes when Liam looked up at him, and he found a strange sort of comfort in the old man’s gaze, as if, even though he was dead, everything would still work out alright for the Jones brothers. “I imagine most souls have a lapse like this when they arrive here,” Liam continued, thinking aloud. His grandfather shifted a bit in his seat, and scratched at the back of his head—Liam had almost forgotten that was a family habit, they’d been alone so long. “Not...necessarily,” David said slowly and almost sheepishly. Liam tilted his head in mild confusion; there was clearly something he didn’t know. “When most souls arrive here, they’ve already begun to forget the pain of the mortal realm—their worries, their troubles. But not us.” Liam recalled the pale yet peaceful faces of the other passengers up on the deck, but when he looked down at himself, he realized he was very much as he was when he was alive—his flesh was still tanned, his memory sharp. He found himself caught somewhere between terror and intrigue. “Grandfather, why is that?” David took a deep breath. “Our family...is both blessed, and cursed.”

thank you for the Q, my dear!

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maxburnett · 3 years

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Hi! So I used to write fanfiction way back and I got inspired to write something by @buckyblues fic about nursing Bucky and I'm wondering if my writing style and the fic itself is any good I personally think I suck? Any CC is welcome.

This is just a snippet not the full fic

Bucky definitely was shocked he was stuck cuffed to the bed as strange people worked on him. But all it did was send him into several flashbacks of the experiments HYDRA had conducted on him.

So of course the trauma had him screaming, thrashing to break away, but not even the arm his handlers supplied him with was enough to break the restraints.

As much as Steve was trying to help, he really wasn’t. All Bucky was capable of doing was crying out in Russian, screaming, tears leaking down his face as he struggled to break away, jerking his body away from Sam’s touch.

A new voice in the room prompted him to pause, still visibly shaking and terrified. The masked nurses thankfully stepped away to reveal soft blonde hair.

He recognized her...vaguely. She worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. He had caught her lurking at his “memorial” at the Smithsonian, but never let her talk to him, instead fleeing to hide from the government.

It’s okay? His eyes turned to the gash on his arm and sniffled, biting back an urge to whimper from the threat of being touched.

“No needles.” He told her shakily. Needles even now terrified him to no end. Reminded him of freezing through the serum, the torture HYDRA put him through. “No more...” he shook squeezing his eyes shut.

Steve and Sam shared glances as Bucky calmed down as y/n got the nurses to leave the room. She gently took his face and cleaned the cut that was on the side of his forehead and placed a few stitches. His eyes locked with hers as she wiped his tears with her fingers.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she said as she began studying his arm and cleaning it as gently as she could before placing all the stitches she needed. A few minutes later she smiled.

“All done. I’m going to undo these and I’m going to help you up … Rogers go get him some of your clothes to change into,” she said without looking back at Steve as she undid the straps on his hands and legs. She wrapped an arm around him and helped him up, the feel of his metal arm giving her cold chills.

“I can’t believe it,” Sam said crossing his arms.

“Sam you really brought him in here and strapped him down with a room full of nurses trying to sedate him. Don’t you think that was a bit extreme?” Y/n asked.

Bucky clenched his teeth at the pricking of the needle against his skin, but couldn’t help but look up to the strange girl when she finished, eyes meeting. Already he felt himself start to relax watching the girl work on his arm.

For the first time in a while, Bucky believed someone when they said that they wouldn’t hurt him. His eyes moved to Steve as he hesitated to go get clothes, worried Bucky would turn on them any second.

“Watch them, alright?” Steve muttered going to grab some clothes for Bucky.

Bucky trembled a bit when he got to his feet, but gazed back to the petite girl beside him. “Thank you.” He murmured.

“You’re welcome,” y/n said as she gave Bucky a smile and double checked the bandage on his arm. Her tiny hand reached out and brushed over some of his hair.

“You’re going to need a shower before you get dressed,” she said seeing the dried mud and blood matted to his long brown locks. Steve came back with some clothes and she took them and held her hand out towards Bucky. He stared at her hand for a moment before placing his hand over here, a tiny hint of a smile appeared as he saw the size difference.

She walked him towards the elevator, clicking the button for the floor the rooms were on and they stepped on when it dinged. They were quiet on the elevator until Bucky realized his hand was still in hers and he subconsciously ran his thumb over hers before pulling away.

“What do I call you? I mean your name?”

“Y/n … but you can also call me y/n/n. It just depends on what you prefer,” she said as the elevator reached the floor and she lead him to her bedroom and began to run the shower. Turning she placed a waterproof cover over the bandage.

“Towels are here,” she smiled. “Do you want me to go and get some of Steve’s body wash and shampoo … because mine is a bit girly,”

“Yours will be fine,” he said as her tiny feet patted to the door and she closed it behind her.

She sat down and placed her head into her hands for some reason getting thoughts of when she was younger kept locked up with the other assassins in Bulgaria. For some reason Bucky’s pain, his agony brought that back. She heard the door opening and Steve walked in and sat beside her and she leaned into him her head burying into his chest as he pulled her closer his lips gently kissing the top of her head.

(BB POV)

Bucky was quiet for a moment or two, staring in awe down at the small hand carding through his sticky hair.

Walking to the elevator he noticed how small her hands were compared to his. Small and surprisingly soft for who he saw as an Avenger.

(Y/n), her name was. (Y/n/n)...he’d need to figure out which one he’d call her. He wasn’t used to thinking for himself admittedly.

Watching the waterproof sleeve slip over his arm he looked to y/n at the mention of using her shampoo. Again, he’d work with what he was given.

He took a moment to settle his own unease before he stripped and got in the shower, scrubbing at his hair to watch the mud and blood wash away.

“Did he hurt you?” Steve asked as he rested his head against hers and took in a smell of her rose scented shampoo.

Y/n took a breath and shook her head. She kept in her feelings, she wasn’t one to share what was inside of her. With Steve it was a little different, sometimes she told him things; sometimes she didn’t.

“He just reminded me of … Bulgaria,” she said as she looked up at Steve as he wiped her tears.

“He’s just so confused … empty almost. Like … umm like the Bucky you were friends with is there but there’s a wall burning around him and he’s trapped. I feel the same about myself sometimes … y’know,” she whispered as Steve pressed his forehead against hers and wiped her eyes again.

Steve wasn’t fond of seeing y/n/n like this, and was quick to rub her back and kiss her head again simply to keep her calm, or to try to at least.

“We’ll get Bucky out. I know that. Okay?” He rubbed her arms.

“In the meantime I want you to be careful. There’s a distress bell we can install in here and in his room. If he turns on you just ring it and someone will be in to sedate him alright?” Steve asked and y/n only nodded.

Bucky sat in the shower, letting the hot water burn him a bit, more to remind him he was alive as he let the Rose scent calm him. He didn’t take long to get out and dry off peeking out of the bathroom.

“Um...could I have those clothes, please?” He asked softly.

He saw how close and affectionate Steve was being with y/n/n and felt a slow flame of jealousy eat at him seeing that intimacy.

But at the same time, he sort of saw where y/n/n was coming from. He was a murderer. And Steve Rogers was golden boy Captain America. Who was he in comparison?

Still, the sight did hurt him greatly. “If you aren’t too busy of course.” He added trying to keep the jealousy at bay.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan #nic.txt

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whitejeweler · 2 years

Video

youtube

Welcome to Music Monday when we bring you outstanding songs with jewelry, gemstones or precious metals in the title or lyrics. Today, red-hot recording artist Dua Lipa channels the synth-pop sound of the 1980s with her 2020 international dance hit, “Physical.”

In this song inspired by Olivia Newton-John’s 1981 classic of the same name, Lipa uses a gem metaphor to describe the extraordinary feeling of being head-over-heels in love.

She sings, “Common love isn’t for us / We created something phenomenal / Don’t you agree? / Don’t you agree? / You got me feeling diamond rich / Nothing on this planet compares to it / Don’t you agree? / Don’t you agree?”

Lipa told Billboard magazine that the song she wrote with Jason Evigan, Clarence Coffee Jr. and Sarah Hudson is very ’80s inspired.

“It’s quite Flashdance-y,” she said, referencing the 1983 cult classic. “It’s fun, you can dance to it. It’s definitely my craziest of high energy songs.”

The retro vibe of “Physical” instantly connected with the Brit’s international fan base. The song charted in 48 countries, including #1 spots in Croatia, Israel, Lebanon, Poland and Slovakia. The song went platinum in the US, Canada and the UK.

“Physical” earned the critical acclaim of music critics, as well. They called it “this decade’s perfect workout song,” “a perfect pop song” and “an instant classic.” It was also nominated for International Song of the Year at the 2020 NRJ Music Awards and Song of the Year at the 2021 Brit Awards.

Now 26, the London-born model-turned-singer was musically influenced by her father, who was the frontman of the Kosovan rock band, Oda.

At Fitzjohn’s Primary School in London, Lipa wasn’t disheartened when the teacher heading the school choir told her “she could not sing.” Instead, the nine-year-old took weekend singing lessons at the Sylvia Young Theatre School.

As a high-schooler, she uploaded to YouTube videos of herself covering the songs of Alicia Keys and Christina Aguilera.

Lipa became a model, which led to a role as the “singer” in an ad for The X Factor music competition show in 2013. A year later, she would ink a deal with Warner Bros. Records.

Please check out the audio track of Lipa performing “Physical.” The lyrics are below if you’d like to sing along…

“Physical” Written by Dua Lipa, Jason Evigan, Clarence Coffee Jr. and Sarah Hudson. Performed by Dua Lipa.

Common love isn’t for us We created something phenomenal Don’t you agree? Don’t you agree? You got me feeling diamond rich Nothing on this planet compares to it Don’t you agree? Don’t you agree?

Who needs to go to sleep, when I got you next to me?

All night I’ll riot with you I know you got my back and you know I got you So come on, come on, come on Let’s get physical Lights out, follow the noise Baby keep on dancing like you ain’t got a choice So come on, come on, come on Let’s get physical

Adrenaline keeps on rushing in Love the simulation we’re dreaming in Don’t you agree? Don’t you agree? I don’t wanna live another life Cuz this one’s pretty nice Living it up

Who needs to go to sleep, when I got you next to me?

Hold on just a little tighter Come on Hold on, tell me if you’re ready Come on Baby keep on dancing Let’s get physical Hold on just a little tighter Come on Hold on, tell me if you’re ready Come on Baby keep on dancing Let’s get physical

Let’s get physical (Physical) Let’s get physical Come on, physical

Credit: Image by Justin Higuchi from Los Angeles, CA, USA, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons.

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gothighunicorntolerance · 3 years

Text

Planet Earth is Blue- 2

One

AO3

Logan had been a member of the Silver Serpent for a good three years now, three years being counted in earth time with the calendar app on Logan’s phone (which somehow still worked, despite there not being any internet service in space. Logan had yet to figure out why he could still watch YouTube or access anything with WiFi, really).

During his three years, Logan learned quite a lot. In addition to learning a few words in Janus’s language (‘hello,’ ‘help,’ and ‘My name is Logan,’ the only phrases Janus said would really be useful), Logan also learned how to commit crimes in space. It sounded much more exciting than it actually was, of course, since most of the crime Janus and the crew committed was the smuggling of slightly illegal goods. The most valuable thing Logan had learned, however, was how to hack alien technology.

He had always been good with computers, but now with access to technology more advanced than anyone on earth could dream of? He was almost unstoppable. He single-handedly erased all warrants for Virgil’s arrest in three different galaxies, as well as cleaning up Janus’s record.

There had been several close calls over the years, though Janus handled most of them nonviolently. There had only been one occasion where a space cop had gone mysteriously missing out of the airlock. Being aboard a ship with crewmates that had a various amount of arrest warrants on different planets wasn’t perfect, but it sure beat earth. Logan would take aliens over transphobia any day of the week.

The Silver Serpent’s current load was a cargo hold full of Volatum, something Logan didn’t want anything to do with, as it was almost like a narcotic for the Umutu, the species native to Trappist-E and H, as well as a few weapons, all hidden under what they were legally delivering, a plant native to Kepler-62 called ibiryo.

The journey between planets was low-stress, as the only thing they really had to worry about was raiders- Logan had never met them, and hoped that he wouldn’t. But the entry to Trappist-E where they were to drop off the Volatum? The entire process was extremely stressful. First, permission to dock was needed- Janus took care of that part, as captain. Once permission was given, glorified border patrol guards would inspect the ship for illegal substances. This was the part that always made Logan nervous. What would happen if the Volatum and weapons were found?

Logan stood in the hallway with the rest of the crew, as per instructed, and watched the guards look around. Virgil glared at them as one opened the door to his room. It was only Patton putting a webbed hand on Virgil’s back that stopped him from hissing. Roman and Remus looked at each other, giggling at something only they heard.

Janus put a hand on Logan's shoulder and gave a small squeeze. During his time on the ship, Logan found that while Janus wasn’t one to hold long conversations, he instead communicated via physical touch.

“It’ll be fine,” Janus whispered so only Logan could hear. “I’m confident in my abilities.”

Logan gave a subtle nod.

It took an achingly long time, but the three guards that had boarded eventually come back out.

“You’re free to land, Silver Serpent,” one of them waved as they stepped out of the ship.

“Thank you,” Janus nodded, gesturing for the crew to follow him to navigation where they strapped into their seats in preparation for reentering an atmosphere. Going back into the pull of gravity was… an experience, to say the least. It reminded Logan of when he had been on a plane that had to land in the rain- bumpy, jarring, and overall making his insides feel like they had been turned upside down and then crushed with a weight. The first time Logan had reentered, he had been sick to his stomach. But now, after hundreds of trips to different planets, reentry was much more bearable, though still not at all pleasant.

Logan closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, something he found helped. He only opened his eyes once Janus announced, “Gentlemen, we have landed!”

Patton was the first to unbuckle, and he immediately lay down on the floor with his arms and legs spread out.

“I really don’t like that,” Patton mumbled.

“Neither do I,” Logan stretched his arms above his head.

“Alas, it is necessary. Now, we don’t have time to lounge around quite yet. We have to deliver,” Janus helped Patton up. “The ibiryo buyers will be here soon.”

“When will the second customer be dropping by?” Virgil asked.

Janus just shrugged by moving his top set of arms. “Soon. But let’s get to work unloading.”

He ushered them to the cargo hold, where it was Logan and Patton’s job to hand boxes of ibiryo to Janus, Remus, Roman, and Virgil, who brought the boxes out to the dock to be picked up by the buyers.

When the ibiryo was finally unloaded, Logan sat with the rest of the crew outside, his muscles aching. Roman and Remus’s words were muffled by their breathing apparatuses, which they had to use to breath in the oxygen-rich atmosphere of Trappist-E, as they needed nitrogen, not oxygen.

The sunset of Trappist-E was close to that of earth’s sunsets, albeit dimmer, as the sun that the planet orbited didn’t give off nearly as much energy as earth’s sun. The air was thinner, making it a little difficult for Logan to breathe, especially when he was still wearing his binder, but it wasn;t nearly as bad as it had been on Trappist-H, where Logan hard to borrow one of the breathing devices and stop binding.

Janus suddenly stood up next to him and raised one of his arms in greeting to a figure walking towards the now-empty docking area and began to walk towards them.

“Is that them?” Logan whispered to Virgil, who sat next to him.

“Yup,” Virgil replied. “I don’t know who they are, but I’m pretty sure they’re some kind of gang leader. You could probably find out with your fancy computer skills, Teach.”

“Probably,” Logan agreed. “Though it would likely take a lot of sorting through criminal records on this planet.”

Janus and the newcomer walked back to the ship. “Roman, Remus, go get the gifts for my friend here.”

The twins nodded and stood up, hurrying into the ship to bring out the Volatum. The newcomer left their hood up when they spoke to Janus, but Logan could tell they were Umutu- the coarse black fur around their hands gave it away. “I take it that my gift is in good condition?” they asked.

“Of course. Nothing but the best from my crew,” Janus replied.

“Very nice. Still the price we agreed on?”

“Correct. Who would I be if I changed the price upon delivery? A government agent?”

Janus and the Umutu buyer laughed. “Ah, here it is,” Janus took the boxes from Roman and Remus.

“Thirty pounds of Volatum. Twelve guns, twelve cases of ammunition,” the buyer inspected. “It seems to be in order. Let me transfer the payment and I’ll be on my way.”

Janus nodded and waved Logan over to wire the transfer. Logan held out a tablet and typed out a code that would allow the funds to be untraceably deposited into an account Logan had set up for himself- most of the funds were used by Janus without Logan’s complaint, as he didn’t really have a need for the money, though he did purchase a small souvenir for himself after every planet he visited.

Each trinket was put carefully in the drawer of his nightstand, though to anyone else it would look like a drawer full of clutter- a ball of yarn made from a cotton like plant from Roman and Remus’s native planet, Wolf-1061-C. A branch from a tree-like organism from Gliese-667-Cc. It was also comforting to know that the type of shirts that proclaimed “I went to New York and all I got was this t-shirt” we’re not confined to earth’s tourism culture- he had several of those, each from a different planet.

The Umutu took the tablet, typed in a code, and handed it back to Logan with a nod.

“Crew of the Silver Serpent, I salute you,” they said.

“Pissing off authority is what we strive to do,” Janus grinned.

“A noble cause. Now, I will be on my way.”

The buyer left the docks, leaving the crew alone.

“Well,” Logan announced. “I’m going to go to my room and sleep. If you see something interesting in the market, buy it for me?”

“Of course!” Roman replied.

“Definitely,” Janus nodded. “Well be taking off in a few hours, so now would be your chance to go shopping if you want to.”

“Thank you, but I’m exhausted,” Logan walked back into the ship, where he tugged off his binder and pulled on a sleeping shirt before crawling under his exceptionally warm and light blankets on his small bed and falling asleep almost immediately.

He woke to shouting.

Stumbling out of his bedroom, he put his glasses in just in time to see Virgil running past him from the engine room to the front navigation, screaming some untranslatable words at the top of his lungs (untranslatable because there was no English equivalent, not because the translator device refused to translate unpleasant words. He had heard plenty of those streaming from Virgil’s mouth when there was an engine malfunction).

Logan took a moment to realize what was happening before chasing after Virgil.

“Who’s chasing us this time!?” Logan shouted over the clanking of the engines and the scuttle of Virgil’s spidery legs against the cold metal floor.

“The cops!” Virgil shouted over his shoulder.

“Those motherfuckers!” Logan cracked his knuckles as he ran after Virgil.

Logan slid into a seat and began typing at a tablet. “What’s their ship name? I’m going to slow them down! Wait- are you kidding me? They’re using an unsecured network… hold on. Patton, look out the window and tell me what’s happening.”

“They’re still shooting at us! Wait! They’ve stopped! And now- now they’re… flying in circles?” Patton hopped out of his seat to the thick glass panes that served as windows to report what was going on as Logan typed commands into the tablet.

“Perfect! This won't be able to last forever, so get out of here!” Logan told Janus and Virgil.

“Virgil, can we warp?” Janus shouted over the engine.

“Once! Now go go go! Now do it now!” Virgil shouted back.

With a flip of a switch, the crew of the Silver Serpent successfully evaded the law once again, and with shouts of “ACAB, BITCHES!”, they arrived in the Fireworks Galaxy.

Had Logan been on the spaceship equivalent of a cap car, he would have heard the confused shouts of the space-cops as they tried to figure out what had caused the sudden malfunctions in the steering mechanisms and the reason only the left engine was working. But Logan was not on the space-cop car- he was with the crew of Janus’s ship, with the different species he had learned to call his friends, his family, shouting obscenities at the space-cops, as all upstanding citizens did.

“Well,” Remus announced. “Fuck the police! Jan, where are we going next?”

Janus shrugged. “Wherever we want, Remus. Wherever we want. Logan, you pick.”

Logan froze for a moment, not used to the spotlight being on him. He looked out the window at the galaxy, at the nebulae and planets and countless stars, at the infinity that was the universe. He had seen things like this before, of course, but he could never get over the sheer vastness of space.

“Let’s go to that one,” he pointed at a random planet.

“That one it is,” Janus gave Logan a six-armed hug from behind.

In addition to learning how to hack spaceships, Logan also learned that Patton’s and Janus’s hugs were quite possibly the best in the entire universe. Janus’s multiple arms made hugging all that better, and Logan leaned into the taller humanoid (Logan still wasn’t quite sure what descriptor, exactly, that he was supposed to use. Janus wasn’t a figure, as those were shapes in fog or darkness. He wasn’t a man, which was made obvious by the four extra arms and shimmering golden scales. Janus wasn’t just a friend, either. Logan considered them all family, but he did occasionally wish there could be something… more with Janus. So Janus was simply the taller humanoid, as not even Logan had the proper vocabulary to describe him).

Logan watched the galaxy pass by, still in Janus’s protective hug, as the Silver Serpent flew to the planet and had pointed to.

Life was good. Life was happy, even!

Those were words Logan had never thought he would have been able to truthfully say, not when he was back on earth. But now? Now, in space- which had seemed like a far off dream- Logan could truly say he was happy.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #sanders sides fic #loceit #logan x janus #space au #tw cops mention #tw guns mention

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morganas-pendragons · 4 years

Text

Warmth | Echo

finding gifs of echo is so hard holy crap

this is part ii to ice - which you’ll probably want to read first // tagging @kill-the-feels

this also features my clone!commander OC named cain

***

The first thing he thinks of whenever Rex pulls him out of that stasis chamber is how warm it is. Echo can’t remember the last time he actually felt his heart beat or saw people - real breathing people - much less felt warmth.

Then he starts looking for you. Rex sees it too. The wanting, the desperation for someone familiar. Someone who loves him.

“Don’t worry, vode. I’m going to get you back to your cyar’ika.”

Rex grabs his hand and Echo latches on because he, just like his other brothers, craves touch. The ice that’s spent the last two years building up in his chest starts to crack as the warmth bleeds through.

The warmth of a brothers love.

Echo knows without a doubt that Anakin Skywalker will get him off of Skako Minor. That Rex, his Captain and his ori’vod, will keep him away from the steel grasps of the Separatists who saw him as nothing more then a machine.

He follows the other clones, the ones who call themselves The Bad Batch, through the ventilation system in the route that’s been mapped inside his head. It was the only logical means of escape. That unfortunately meant calling on the Keeradaks, which Rex later comes to tell him that they’d used the creatures upon arriving on Skako Minor and meeting the locals.

Echo isn’t paying attention to the droids that can suddenly fly and are pursuing them as they make course for the village. His blaster fits into his flesh hand like it’s meant to be there, and the air is flowing by him and he’s surrounded by his brothers and for the first time Echo feels like he’s alive and on top of the world.

That’s when he start laughing. Oh, how it felt to be alive.

Now he just needs to get back to Anaxes. Back to you.

Cyar’ika.

***

Rex had the good graces to inform you before he left for Skako Minor with the Bad Batch that he was following a lead that would probably lead him to Echo. You hadn’t believed him at first because Fives had told you himself. He’d been the one to see it. He’d seen Echo die.

The Clone Captain hadn’t expected you to believe him. He did, however, take your hand in his own and wish you the best. He made another promise to bring your cyare home to you.

CC-1614 is the one who actually manages to convince you that Rex is telling the truth. He’s the one who gives you hope.

Cain is well built as many of the other clone commanders are, a sole survivor of Reaper Squadron who had all died on Jabiim in a battle that had nearly claimed Obi-Wan Kenobi’s life. His general is a good friend of yours, one of the few Jedi who had the ability to Force Heal. You hadn’t exactly intended on breaking the Code whenever you fell for Echo. It had just happened.

Cain and Kix, along with ARC Trooper Jesse, are three of your closest friends. You haven’t been on the front lines in months and Cain prefers to stick close to his General, who is elbow deep in blood and bacta and desperately trying to calm down the clones who are the most frantic and the most critical.

“You’re doing that thing again.” Cain gently nudges your hip with his own and crosses his arms over his chest. The Commander usually plays a stoic facade as he has a reputation of stern authority to maintain, but Opal Stone has impacted him deeply enough that he feels it necessary to be himself when he’s not on the front lines. “The I’m going to look off longingly into the horizon and if I stare hard enough, Rex will bring my cyare home look. You look like a love-sick teenager.”

His jibes fall on deaf ears. You’re not hearing it.

“Hey.” Two different colored eyes meet your own. “I’ve been a POW. I’ve been where your cyare has been. It won’t be easy for him to reintegrate back into the GAR but if you’re gonna be there for him like General Stone was for me, I think he’ll be okay. He’s strong.” His head dips to his chest. “Stronger then I was.”

There’s alot surrounding Cain’s time as Dooku’s slave that Opal did not tell you. You don’t need to know the gritty details of his time as a prisoner of war because all you have to do is look at Cain to know what he went through. His arms are marked with sleeves of tattoos as a remembrance to his fallen brothers - Abel, Funsize, Viper, Killshot - and the Mark Of Cain sticks out like a brand against his temple.

But for someone who’s seen so much death and so much cruelty, he seems oddly at peace.

“You’re a good man, Cain.” You murmur, beaming back at him as his face splits in that rare smile he almost never lets anyone see. “A good man also brings his favorite Jedi caf. I’m exhausted.”

“Sure thing.” He winks at you and kriff him - it’s enough to make you blush like a schoolgirl. “General.”

You don’t have enough time to banter with Cain because then your comm starts going off.

“Hello?”

“General, this is Anakin Skywalker. We’re enroute back to Anaxes with Echo.” The world stops moving. There’s no dying soldiers or harsh realities or fear or feeling. There is only you and Anakin who has just delivered a truth you’d long denied yourself accepting. These men - these good, brave men - were not meant to come home from the front lines. They were there in service of a Republic that did not care about them and so you did, you'd allowed yourself to be submersed in love and light and laughter that The Order didn’t give you.

Memories flash behind your eyes like the scenes of a holodrama. Echo is there, Echo is always there, but now instead of being too far out of reach for you to hold he is light and laughter and everything your life had been lacking since Fives had told you about the Citadel.

Echo was coming home.

Your breath catches in your chest and your throat knots and Force, you can’t breathe- “He will need treatment. Have Kix help you. I’d recommend a closed off room.”

“Right-Right away, Skywalker-”

Your comm shuts off and hands are resting on your shoulders, slowly traveling down your arms until fingers are lacing with yours and someone starts speaking in a string of Mando’a that’s mostly incomprehensible to your ears. You don’t have to turn around to know it’s Kix.

“Kix-”

Then you hear it. The unmistakable hitch of his breath and the cry building up in the back of his throat reminds you that Echo is so vastly loved by both you and his brothers. The same brothers who’d once thought him dead and are singing their rejoice in their mother tongue upon finding out that a brother long lost is coming home.

You and Kix set to beginning the preparations for Echo’s treatment. Kix gives stern orders to the other medics that no one will be allowed inside of this room except the two of you, Rex, Jesse, Cain and Anakin. You want him to feel safe, to be safe, which means limiting the number of visitors.

‘’GENERAL SKYWALKER HAS LANDED!”

Cains voice resounds across the medbay and before Kix can stop you, you’re taking off through the base to where Anakin’s gunship has just landed. Wide eyes follow each member of the Bad Batch until Rex finally leaves the gunship, and cradled in his arms is presumably the man you love.

He doesn’t look like Echo. Not until you see his eyes.

And then you crumble. You really try not to, you do, and it’s a good thing Kix followed you because Jedi are supposed to be cool and composed. They’re supposed to have a control over their emotions.

Too bad you never had control over yourself, over feeling like the way you felt for Echo, because if you did you’d never have had a chance for warmth.

For love.

***

Echo sees a familiar face, then two, and then his arms are reaching out on their own accord because that is his cyar’ika cradled in the arms of his brother Kix and he wants you-

But then he’s injected with an anesthetic that knocks him out cold.

You and Kix work diligently, along with Tech (who proves to be remarkably useful for all the cybernetics that Echo is now implanted with) to ascertain the extent of his injuries. He’s definitely dehydrated and malnourished, but it seems that the extent of what he’d endured at the Citadel had been dealt with by the Separatists.

Except the memory loss.

After injecting a fluid IV into his arm, you allow yourself to ease into the chair beside Echo’s bed and take his flesh hand into your own. There’s so much of him that’s metal now that it’s almost impossible to see the man beneath it, but if weren't for those eyes and that heart that pounds proudly beneath your hand, you wouldn’t even know it was him to begin with.

“He’s safe for now.” Kix handed you a ration pack and water before wiping his forehead with the back of his hands. “I think you can take it from here.” The clone medics bends down enough to brush a kiss against the crown of your head - an action he only does when the two of you are alone because he trusts you - and you thank him with a soft smile and a nod before he parts from the room.

Your eyes travel up and down his body as you slowly drink the water and chew on the ration cube.

“Echo, cyare.” The words come before you can stop them. Your hand is still linked with his, thumb carefully rubbing back and forth in the same way he’d used to do when he’d held yours for the first time. It was a nervous habit. “I’m.. I’m at a loss for words. I don’t know what to say.” You don’t. You’d been too preoccupied by the war to even mourn him. Fives had been your anchor, the one who reminded you of the good you’d had, and then he’d been ripped away from you too. “There’s so much I left unsaid before the Citadel.. and I didn’t-I didn’t think you’d ever survived that-I gave up, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I failed you, cyare.”

His eyes start fluttering. At first you think he’s waking up, but then you feel the way he grips you and then he starts moving, starts whining - Oh.

Oh.

His head tilts back and his speech is slurred, but you catch a few words before each strangled breath - “No, no, cyare-” and your overwhelming desire to hold him overtakes your rational judgement, the one that blares a warning in your mind to stay away, so you climb behind him and prop your knees on either side of the ARC trooper before wrapping your arms around his middle.

The metal doesn’t bother you.

“Come back to me, cyare.” You whisper. Your fingers trail along the cybernetics on his chest and around his abdomen. The gesture is familiar. Comforting. Warm. “Come back to me.”

Echo snaps awake and the ice that has enveloped his entire being since The Citadel shatters. It’s a foreign feeling learning what it means to be warm again but then he remembers he’s on Anaxes, he’s in the base with the other 501st, and he’d seen you before Kix had injected him with the anesthetic. He’s safe. He’s safe.

His voice cracks as his flesh hand takes your own and bring it to quivering lips. You can feel the tears that fall on your skin when he says, “Cyar’ika.”

“Hello Echo.” You muse lightly. Laughter bubbles in the back of his throat as he leans back against your chest, turning just enough on his side that his face is buried in the crook of your neck. Your eyes meet his, and they’re full of tears but they’re his. “Cyare. I missed you.”

“Beloved.” He hums in reply. Echo may not remember what happened whenever he was in the ice, but he remembers you - your eyes and your heart and your soul - and so he remembers what it’s like to love and be loved in return. “Ni ru'akaanir par gar, ner kar'taylir darasuum.”

Now, you’re no expert in the Mando’a tongue, but you catch the end of the sentence. My love.

Your fingers trail over the nape of his neck and down his spine. He’s limp in your arms, head against your shoulder and breath ghosting over your neck. That’s the only way you know he’s even there.

And oh.

He’s warm.

“What does it mean?”

He’s reminded of a similar conversation years ago, when he’d been with his vode in the mess and Fives had asked you to visit to ‘’boost his morale.’’ Maybe his brother knew before he did. Maybe his brother knew he loved you and wanted Echo to be happy.

“You asked me to fight for you.” He whispers. Your eyes burn with unshed tears as he lifts his head just enough to meet your gaze, and you can tell he means it. Which means when he was imprisoned by the Separatists you had been the thing that had kept him alive. “You asked me to fight for you, and I did. I fought for my beloved.”

He falls asleep again, wrapped up there in your arms, in warmth, and you allow yourself to weep again because oh.. oh stars- you love him.

#Echo x Reader #ARC Trooper Echo x Reader #sw: tcw #Star Wars oneshots #Star Wars imagines

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sciencespies · 3 years

Text

Viking Map of North America Identified as 20th-Century Forgery

https://sciencespies.com/history/viking-map-of-north-america-identified-as-20th-century-forgery/

Viking Map of North America Identified as 20th-Century Forgery

In the modern era, the European discovery of North American became a proxy for conflicts between American Protestants and Catholics, as well as northern Europeans who claimed Vikings like Leif Eriksson (left) as their ancestors and southern Europeans who touted links to Columbus (right) and the monarchs of Spain. Photo illustration by Meilan Solly / Photos: Alta Falisa via Wikimedia Commons under CC-BY SA 4.0, GRID-Arendal via Flickr under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0, public domain

It seemed too good to be true. Acquired by Yale University and publicized to great fanfare in 1965, the Vinland Map—supposedly dated to mid-15th century Europe—showed part of the coast of North America, seemingly presenting medieval Scandinavians, not Christopher Columbus, as the true “discoverers” of the New World.

The idea wasn’t exactly new. Two short Icelandic sagas relate the story of Viking expeditions to North America, including the construction of short-lived settlements, attempts at trade and ill-fated battles with Indigenous peoples on the continent’s northeastern coast. Archaeological finds made on Newfoundland in the 1960s support these accounts. But this map suggested something more: namely, that knowledge of Western lands was reasonably common in Scandinavia and central Europe, with Vikings, rather than Columbus and his Iberian backers, acting as the harbingers of the colonial age.

In the modern era, the European discovery of North America became a proxy for conflicts between American Protestants and Catholics, as well as northern Europeans who claimed the pagan Vikings as their ancestors and southern Europeans who touted links to Columbus and the monarchs of Spain. Feted on the front page of the New York Times, the map’s discovery appeared to solidify the idea of a pre-Columbian Norse arrival in the American mindset.

As it turns out, the map was indeed too good to be true. In 1966, just months after it was publicized, scholars pointed out inconsistencies with other medieval sources and raised questions about where the map had supposedly been for the past 500 years. In addition, a study conducted in the early 1970s strongly hinted at problems with the original dating of the map to medieval Europe, though outside researchers challenged that finding with concerns about the small sample of ink that was tested, as well as possible contamination. Debates over the map’s authenticity continued in the succeeding decades, prompting Yale and others to conduct a series of largely inconclusive tests.

Yale publicized the Vinland Map to great fanfare in 1965.

Public domain via Wikimedia Commons

Now, an interdisciplinary research project undertaken by archivists, conservators and conservation scientists has proven that the map is fake once and for all. Far removed from the 1440s, the analysis of metals in the map’s ink revealed that the document was actually forged as early as the 1920s.

“There is no reasonable doubt here,” says Raymond Clemens, curator of early books and manuscripts at Yale’s Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library, which houses the map, in a statement. “This new analysis should put the matter to rest.”

This time around, experts used a technique called X-ray fluorescence spectroscopy to examine the ink used across the entirety of the map. Their analysis showed definitively that the ink contained titanium, which only became popular in the 1920s. Scans also revealed a note on the back of the parchment that was intentionally altered to make the document seem more authentic. “It’s powerful evidence that this is a forgery, not an innocent creation by a third party that was co-opted by someone else, although it doesn’t tell us who perpetrated the deception,” says Clemens in the statement.

Medieval texts that mention Vinland, as the Vikings called the region, are an amalgam of both Viking and classical, or ancient Greek and Roman, forms of storytelling. The tales they tell are spectacular: blood feuds among Vikings, magical rituals, battles between First Nations and Vikings, lively mercantile exchanges. In recent years, the stories of Viking voyages to North America have shown up in movies, video games, Japanese manga and anime, and more.

The ink used throughout the map contains traces of titanium, which only became popular in the 1920s.

Yale University

A similar wave of Viking nostalgia in the early 20th century may have inspired a forger to create the purportedly medieval map. As Lisa Fagin Davis, executive director of the Medieval Academy of America and an expert on manuscript production, says, “The motivation for manuscript forgeries is generally financial or political. In the case of the Vinland Map, both are quite possible.”

The first record of the map dates to 1957, when a dealer offered it to the British Museum on behalf of Enzo Ferrajoli de Ry, a dealer based in Spain. The British Museum turned the sale down, suspecting the chart was a forgery. Then, in the early 1960s, American dealer Laurence C. Witten III bought the map for $3,500 and offered it to Yale, which declined to purchase it for $300,000. Instead, wealthy alumnus Paul Mellon paid for the map and donated it to the Connecticut university.

The motivation for manuscript forgeries is generally financial or political. In the case of the Vinland Map, both are quite possible.

In hindsight, this protracted chain of events probably should have set off alarm bells. Witten was secretive from the get-go about who he got the map from and how—likely with good reason. Before the find was announced to the world, in November 1964, the New York Times revealed that Ferrajoli de Ry had been convicted of stealing manuscripts; the reporter questioned the legitimacy of Witten’s relationship with the criminal and thus the manuscripts he’d previously sold to Yale.

Witten recounted the saga in 1989, altering some points of the story and admitting that he bought the map directly from Ferrajoli de Ry without supporting provenance. As the dealer reflected, “Why did I not then and there insist on a pedigree? My reply can only be that thirty years ago there was no compelling reason to do so.” He added that post-war Europe was awash with manuscripts sold off by desperate priests to cover debts and rebuild their churches.

Despite all these potential red flags, curators at Yale worked closely with colleagues at the British Museum to determine the map’s authenticity. They dated it to the 1440s based primarily on the handwriting style and the age of the parchment on which it was written.

1910 photograph of the Kensington Runestone

Public domain via Wikimedia Commons

If the map was created in the 1920s, it would have fit within a larger cultural movement that catered to an eager American audience. The forgery closely followed Swedish immigrant Olof Öhman’s 1898 discovery of a carved runestone in Minnesota. Öhman cited the rock as proof that the Vikings had traveled inland from the coast and, coincidentally, built communities in the same area where 19th-century Swedish and Norwegian immigrants were then settling down. Just as with the Vinland Map, scholars were skeptical almost from the start; still, claims about the Kensington Runestone, as it’s known, have persisted for decades, even in the face of quite clear evidence that the artifact is a fake.

As medieval literature expert Dorothy Kim wrote for Time in 2019, 19th-century nationalists looking to create new political and racial myths turned to Viking history as their source material. American poets composed new Viking epics, and, in 1893, a Norwegian captain sailed a replica Viking ship to the Chicago World’s Fair, winning acclaim both in his home country and among Scandinavian immigrants in the United States.

In northern cities, local groups inspired at least in part by anti-Catholic (and, subsequently, anti-Columbus and anti-Italian) sentiment erected Viking statues. By no coincidence, the announcement of Yale’s acquisition of the Vinland Map just so happened to fall the day before Columbus Day in 1965. At times, the myth of Viking America might seem innocuous enough—but the story has always held the potential for exploitation by those seeking to claim the history of North America for white people.

As with almost all versions of nostalgia, false visions of the Vikings grew around a kernel of historical truth. As we explain in our new book, The Bright Ages: A New History of Medieval Europe, the people of early medieval Scandinavia (popularly called Vikings today) were constant travelers. Around the turn of the first millennium C.E., they raided the coasts of France and England, then traversed the Volga in Russia, moving south to war and trade with the peoples of the Baghdad-based Abbasid Caliphate.

The Bright Ages: A New History of Medieval Europe

A lively and magisterial popular history that refutes common misperceptions of the European Middle Ages, showing the beauty and communion that flourished alongside the dark brutality—a brilliant reflection of humanity itself.

Buy

Not long after the map’s “discovery,” archaeologists uncovered an 11th-century Norse settlement at L’Anse aux Meadows in Newfoundland, confirming Vikings had travel from Iceland to Greenland to the Canadian coast during that period. Now a Unesco World Heritage Site, the settlement is relatively small but was equipped for long-term occupation, boasting the remains of three dwellings, a forge, and workshops likely used for ship repairs and woodworking.

The Vikings’ presence in North America was short-lived, confined mostly to Nova Scotia and (perhaps) some surrounding regions. After island-hopping across the North Atlantic, the Norse appear to have settled down, trading and fighting with Indigenous tribes. Then, according to the two surviving medieval sagas that mention Vinland, these communities succumbed to infighting and disintegrated.

Reconstruction of Viking boat at the L’Anse aux Meadows settlement

Megan Em via Wikimedia Commons under CC BY-SA 3.0

In one saga, a woman named Freydís (sister of the famed Leif Eriksson) helps defend the Viking colony by baring her breast and slapping it with a sword to scare off Indigenous rivals. In the other, the same Freydís murders several of her fellow colonists with an axe, causing the settlement to fall apart and the survivors to return to Greenland.

These stories aren’t the ones that inspired the Kensington Runestone or the Vinland Map. Instead, the edges of those tales were worn smooth, washed clean and repurposed in service of early 20th-century politics and culture. Desperate to minimize the role of Spaniards, Italians and Indigenous peoples, some Americans went looking in the past, determined to find themselves. Unsurprisingly, they found what they were looking for—even if it sometimes meant inventing from whole cloth the sources of the story they wanted to tell.

Art Crimes

Christopher Columbus

Colonialism

Crime

Forgeries

Iceland

Indigenous Peoples

Maps

Medieval Ages

Race and Ethnicity

Racism

Spain

Vikings

#History

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silverhandsass · 3 years

Note

OC ask game: 1-4, 6, 11, 18, 26, 31, 33, 38, 41

Hey hey! Here’s what I got on my canon V. This is going under a Keep Reading but thanks for all the digits!

1. What is their full name? do they have any nicknames? what are they and why did they get them?

Valerie Rose Palencia. That’s her full name. She’s gone by Val or Valerie, or even Rose/Rosie in her childhood, but it’s been a long time since she’s had anyone in her life that still calls her that.

Doing gigs and stuff in Night City and growing up in the streets made her more detached so she just goes by V for most people.

2. how old are they? how long have they been living on their own?

27, so a few years older than canon. She’s been living on her own since she was old enough to work her own gigs and take care of herself. Until then, it was group homes or crashing on friends’ couches. She loses her parents very young and doesn’t have family so it was always staying with others until she could leave and live on her own.

3. what are their astrology signs? sun/moon/rising.

I’m gonna go ahead and say Gemini like myself, but the sun/moon/rising stuff I don’t understand so I can’t say for sure!

4. what tarot card from the major arcana would you associate with them?

Oh man, uhhh... Death, probably. Change, rebirth, renewal. The death of something old and birth of something new. She’s gone through so much change over and over in her life that I feel like Death would make for a decent card. I like that canon V is The Fool, but my V would definitely be Death.

6. which of the four elements would you associate with them?

Fire. She is errant, wild—and I like describing her as a wildfire so it works. She’s always jumping from one thing to the next and when she loves something, she puts everything she’s got into it. She’s always so passionate about the things she believes in and she’s interested in, so I’d say she burns pretty well.

11. do they have any cyberware? is it cosmetic or is it weaponry/armor?

So, yes. The primary cyberware she uses is the kiroshi eyes and mantis blades. In the game, I’ve given her the high-jump and smart link, but I don’t know if I’d say that’s canon for her.

I’d like to imagine she’d eventually get decorative cyberware to make her tattoos more metallic in some places, maybe something to go with the piercings she’s got. I think she’d avoid any cyberware that might fuck with the Johnny + V tattoo, that shit’s staying. She might also get something for her voice at some point because she smokes, she fights, and she screams in her songs so something to help keep her voice a lil stable during all that would not be a bad idea.

That might actually be a good justification for the neck cyberware she has that you can get in CC.

18. share three songs you associate with them.

(All In My Head — Whethan & Grandson) About V and having Johnny in her head.

(Pulse Queen — We Are The Pigs) Something she would probably sing in an underground gig.

(Sing to Me — Missio) She may or may not sing this too, but this is basically about her losing herself during the main story, about facing the thought of having to pick between herself and Johnny, becoming more like him and him like her, etc.

26. if they do merc work, do they have one dedicated fixer? if so, who?

Oh, definitely Padre. Heywood, born and raised, probably got helped by him as a kid to get on her own two feet after losing her parents, so obviously she has a close relationship with him and he’d hook her up with jobs.

31. who are their closest chooms in NC?

Jackie, Misty, Vik, Kerry, Panam, Johnny. Probably pepper in some folks from Heywood, especially if you consider the Street Kid lifepath.

33. what is/was their relationship like with their parents?

It was pretty great until they died. They took good care of her even though they weren’t exactly too well off, money wise. They lived in a very run down home, but when they died, she lost literally her family and her home, had to move to an orphanage then a group home, stuff like that. They died when she was pretty young so she can’t remember much about them, only that she loved them and they loved her.

38. do they have a love interest? if so, who?

So, I’m gonna say fuck Canon because V and Johnny have one hell of a beautiful story and I think, if I were to write the story, it would certainly be a love story.

I’m a thot for Vik and I simp, but I think the top choice for Valerie would definitely be Johnny.

41. do they believe in soulmates?

Before Johnny, not one fucking bit. After him? Well... okay it was a precarious situation that was like one in a million probably but... the chances of her being paired with someone so volatile and crass, only for them to grow so close that they’d give their lives up for one another? Yeah, that’s enough for her to believe.

#Anonymous #dude thank you for all these questions #helped me think about her a lot #If you have any more feel free to send em!#answered

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writingismyhappytime · 4 years

Text

Escaping Grace (Part 3)

Warnings: Angst, Language

The city is pretty crowded tonight, and whoever made the decision to walk all the way to this restaurant is in the dog house with me tonight. It wasn't supposed to be too far away from the club, but whichever one of the guys made this decision has obviously never had to walk a long distance in heels --- to be fair, these are my favorite boots with just enough heel to make me a decent height, but they still hurt after a while.

I sigh, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets, glad I'd decided to wear one after all. I'd just barely thought to grab it last minute as we'd headed out the door, and Vale had sent me such a look --- well, I bet she's cold now in her sleeveless shirt!

Clarke keeps an easy pace with me, looking down at his phone as he goes. I'm fairly certain he has a girlfriend, or at least someone who likes to blow up his phone pretty frequently. He's a very private person, and he especially likes to keep everything from Vale, who in turn pries incessantly until she knows everything. It must just be a thing betweens siblings.

"Hey, Vale, right?" I hear CC ask a few paces ahead of us, and my eyes focus on the back of his head. He's walking with Vale, her long legs easily keeping pace with his.

"Yeah. It's really Valerie, but no one calls me that." She shrugs.

"Well, I go by CC, but it's Christian."

"You definitely look more like a CC." Vale glances up at him, cutting her eyes beneath her fake lashes; how she manages to always get them to stay on is beyond me, I've tried and mine always fall off or I feel like I'm trying to take flight with them.

Vale hugs herself as we continue down the street, rubbing her bare arms against the cold. "How long are we going to keep walking? I thought this place wasn't too far."

"It's just a few more streets down. We usually walk it from the studio to there, the food is totally worth it." CC replies, and I stare as he suddenly shrugs out of his black jacket, draping it around her shoulders. "Here, I know it's getting cold."

Did he for real ---?

Vale's fingers curl around the jacket, and she gives him an appreciative look. "Oh, thank you! I was just wishing that I'd brought my own."

She planned this, didn't she? I told her to bring a jacket, but --- there's no way. I can't believe he gave her his jacket, that's such a gentlemanly thing to do and I just can't believe I witnessed it with my own eyes.

"Why don't either one of you ever offer me your jacket?" I grumble at Clarke and Nate where we walk, both of them sticking close to me. "I get cold sometimes too."

"We don't control the weather," Clarke retorts, shooting me a look. I roll my eyes at him, pushing my hands deeper into my pockets. CC and Vale are talking a few feet in front of us, but otherwise our bands are staying separate as we walk.

I'm kind of... bummed, actually, that Andy is so quiet tonight. I thought, since he wanted to meet us, that he would be nice, even if he was faking it. Chat us up, have casual conversation, etc., but he doesn't exactly seem to be in the best of moods. He just went right to business, as if he didn't already know what we were going to play to open for his band.

I sigh as we come to a stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change so we can keep going.

"So, where are you guys originally from?" CC is asking Vale, standing rather close to her.

"Small town down south," she replies, checking her phone. "Even if I told you the name, you wouldn't know where it was."

"Doesn't sound so bad," he says as we start to cross. His hand slips to her lower back, guiding her forward, and I'm surprised Vale doesn't shirk away from him. She hates it when guys do that, she feels like she's being manipulated. "This is kinda cool, isn't it?" Nate murmurs after a few minutes, bumping me with his shoulder. He's smoking as we walk, so there's a haze around him that makes my nose curl. I hate the way the smoke smells, and he knows I don't like it, he just doesn't care. "None of the other bands we've opened for have ever taken any interest in us."

"Well, maybe this means we're doing something right?" I offer, unsure really what this meeting was about. We could have just met at the show, or even right beforehand, if they wanted to get a feel for us. Obviously we're an up and comer, but our live performances have always been good --- Vale likes to put on a show, and all the women seem to like Clarke's stoic attitude and Nate's... very welcoming one.

"We're here!" Ashley announces proudly as we finally stop in front of a diner on the corner. I glance up at the red neon sign, the large windows displaying a fifties-looking diner with the red booths and the jukebox in the corner. There's even oldies music playing as we walk inside, being seated at a large table near the back so we can all fit.

Somehow I get seated between Andy and Ashley, with Vale and CC across from me, CC conveniently sandwiched between the siblings. I'm not sure if he's aware that Clarke is Vale's brother, but if he keeps trying to flirt with her I'm sure it's going to become fairly obvious.

I press my hands into my lap, glancing around. I'm sure we look a strange group, dressed in various shades of black, my hair the most colorful part of all of us. I know it's kind of lame, the streaks of red and blue layered beneath the top half of my blonde hair, but I thought it was so cool; I was never allowed to dye my hair when I lived at home, so I took full advantage of the rainbow of colors once I was free.

Now at least I can afford to have it professionally done so it looks nice.

"They have some great food here," Ashley tells as as he twirls a laminated meu on the table. "When we first came here, Andy ordered the whole menu to go."

Andy glances up from his phone where he'd been furiously typing, shrugging his shoulders. He's been pretty focused on it the entire night, instead of the company he keeps; I'm honestly a little annoyed. "What can I say? The food is good."

I try not to watch his fingers move across the screen, which he was mostly holding under the table for privacy, I guess. I keep my focus on where Vale sits across from me, her chin propped on her hand as she listens to something Clarke says. Nate is on his other side, chatting up the other members of the band. He's our drummer, and yet he's more focused on the guitarists and their techniques; what, does he want to trade with Clarke to Vale now?

I thought he liked doing the bang bang thing. I gingerly lift up the menu, but I already know what I'm going to order. I order the same thing everywhere I go, it's a safety thing, plus I really like chicken tenders. It doesn't look like there's a ton of variety either, just what you'd expect from diner food. I wonder if the milkshakes are good.

"Hi, I'm your waitress Camilla. What would you guys like to drink?" A waitress pops up at the end of the table with a tired smile, and we all rattle off our drink orders. She has no trouble scratching it on her notepad, but she also doesn't have an accent and looks like she knows what she's doing. She just nods her head before turning on her heel. "I don't know why you're looking at the menu," Vale grumbles at me after a moment, eyeing me over the one she holds when she sees me looking; I notice her and CC's chairs are pretty close together, despite she's at the end of the table where I wish I was. I'm squished. "You already know what you're going to order."

"Don't food shame me, if they mess up chicken tenders, there's no hope for the rest of the food." I reply, leaning back in the chair. The table is big enough there's at least room for us not to be right on top of each other, so I'm not bumping elbows with either of the men I'm between but I still feel like we're too close. I have a thing about personal space. The chair however is a little uncomfortable, the cushion is worn and the metal cold. I can feel it pressing through my back even with my jacket. "So, are you guys excited for the show?" Ashley offers up some conversation when it starts to lull, there's only so much to talk about. "It's going to be a nice sized venue." He leans back in his chair casually, and I notice his arm slips along the back of mine. Is he trying to be smooth or he just needs somewhere to put his arm? I mean, he's cute, and talented as hell and I like his outfit choices, but I've also heard he's quite the ladies man, and I don't date.

He'd have a better chance of hooking up with Nate.

"Oh, we've played there before. I love the Stoles Arena, the dressing rooms are the cleanest." Vale says, absently twirling the ends of her dark hair. "I almost thought Nate was going to get us banned though. He managed to smooch with the stage managers girlfriend before the show."

I stare at her over my menu, trying with my eyes to convey how much she did not need to reveal that we could be troublesome; well, that Nate could be, anyway. He's usually the one that's causing chaos. He doesn't mean too, he just can't seem to help himself. Maybe it's the whole acting before thinking thing... also could be the fact he doesn't have much to think with either.

"What!? You mean little Sarah with an H?" Ashley looks impressed, tapping his fingers on the table, his attention suddenly riveted on our drummer. I shift in my chair again and his arm suddenly leaves to prop along the table.

Nate grins from a few seats down, looking smug. "Yep. She has a thing for blondes," he gestures at his very dyed hair with dark roots. "But to be fair she conned me into jello shots for the before party and let me tell you, that girl can handle her alcohol."

"Craig was so mad," Vale chuckles, steepling her fingers in front of her. She's glancing at the long table we're all sharing, not at all phased that all eyes are on her. Sometimes I really wish she was the singer, so we could switch and I could be out of the limelight. Ironic, isn't it? I want to be famous but also be invisible at the same time; I really should have chose a different profession. "He gets us a gig there and Nate almost goes and blows it within a few hours."

"Craig?"

"Our manager."

"Ah okay."

I tap my nails against my thighs, growing impatient. I wish the waitress would come back with the drinks so I could at least have something to do while everyone else forces casual conversation. Do we seem settled enough? Out of control? What kind of impression are they hoping to get off of us tonight?

Are we failing? Passing? What's the verdict?

Finally the waitress appears, but she has a waiter with her, helping her carry all of our drinks. I notice he keeps staring at us, his eyes flicking back and forth between all of our faces. His eyebrow piercings glints beneath the buzzing lights above, and the tattoos peeking out from under his shirt sleeve gives me the hint he might be someone who listens to our genre of music.

He helps pass the drinks around, lets the waitress take all of our orders while hovering obviously in the background before rather meekly asking if he could have an autograph. "I'm so sorry to bother you, I know you're trying to eat, but I could I please get an autograph from you guys?" He asks nervously, clutching a napkin in his hand.

"Really, Ryan? We bring pretty girls here and you ask for their autograph?" Ashley says, but his tone lets us know he's teasing, so they must know the waiter fairly well. The waiter has the decency to look embarassed, but Vale takes charge, putting her hand out.

"Sure. One of these days you can sell this on eBay and make a ton of money," she says as she scribbles her signature on it, the V of her name a lot larger than the rest. "Tell the world you met Escape from Grace when they were ordering chicken tenders."

I try not to smile at the comment, adding a hasty scribble of my name before sliding the napkin down the table towards him. He snatches it quickly, beaming at all of us before making a beeline for the front of the diner where the other waitress is standing.

"He doesn't meet many famous people, forgive his manners." CC apologizes for him, bumping Vale with his shoulder lightly. "We come here enough he's used to us, but when you guys come back, expect the same reaction."

"Oh, so we're coming back here?" Vale looks at him, her lips curving.

"Oh, I, uh, I just meant if you come back here. I mean, the food is great," CC shifts suddenly, Vale is making him nervous. It's the way she looks at people, so directly, it makes them squirm. I aspire to have that level of confidence one day.

I brush my hair behind my ears, reaching for my soda and sliding it towards me. The others had all finished their drinks off before we'd left the club, so some greasy food would do them wonders.

"So what are you guys planning for your first show?" Clarke asks, drawing the attention back to business. He glances around, always the one to get to the point. "Are you going for a big performance initally or saving it until the last show?"

"We haven't decided," Andy replies, clicking his phone screen black and slipping it into his pocket, apparently done with the conversation that's been taking up his attention all night. "We still have a little time to decide what we're going to do, it's one of the reasons we wanted to meet with you guys. We want to keep the crowd entertained."

Entertained? So long as he's talking, who cares about the rest?

What is it with me and guys with voices like him? I gaze at him as he speaks, watching the light bounce off his black lip ring, his dark hair falling into his eyes slightly. He's tall, and incredibly warm where he sits beside me. I can smell just a hint of his cologne, he doesn't shower in it like Nate does, and it suits him well enough. He's covered in tattoos, from his neck down, and especially on his arms. "You guys have been together for a year or two, right?"

Huh?

I blink, realizing I'd zoned out and lost some of the conversation. Andy was looking at me expectantly, and I hastily straightened in my chair, feeling my face flush.

"What? Oh, yeah. Two years coming up. We had our big debut last year at Stoles, actually."

"Cool. Bandmates are hard to find that stick around. You all seem to get along." He comments, and I notice Ashley glances at him.

"We've always been together," I reply, shifting so my butt doesn't go numb. I hope it doesn't take too long for our food, I'm genuinely starting to get hungry and something is smelling amazing. Sure, initially the place had smelled like cheap coffee and french fries, but there's also something comforting and familiar about it too. "I couldn't imagine anyone else being with us. It would be too crowded."

I leave it at that, deciding that I was not going to rattle on tonight and find a way to embarrass myself. I'm going to play it cool, keep my comments fairly short but still friendly enough. I seem to be doing okay, being social and all that, although it's mostly Ashley who tries to keep conversation with me. I kind of didn't like his arm along the back of my chair, mainly because I can't lean back properly, but I don't want to say anything about it, either.

Vale would have literally shoved it off and not cared about his reaction, but her attention has been focused on CC solely. They seem to have hit it off pretty well, he's even slightly leaning in her direction as they talk.

The waiter suddenly reappers, carrying all of our food on platters. I perk up as my chicken tenders slide in front of me, and a full ketchup bottle with it! How nice! I hate having to hit the bottom of the glass to get any out, or if the water just runs out all gross.

I dip one of my fries through the ketchup, watching CC use so much mustard on his burger I could smell it from across the table. I almost cringe as he bites into the burger almost oozing the yellow slime, and I realize I'm outright staring at him in horror when Ashley nudges my elbow with his.

"CC puts mustard on everything, you get used to the sight," he tells me, pretending he's whispering but loud enough I know his friend hears him. "He keeps an array of mustard flavors on the tour bus. Takes up way too much room in the fridge."

"Hey, different flavors make the food," CC defends himself, pointing with a napkin as he wipes at his stained fingers. "And you're the one who stocks the fridge full of rabbit food all the time. Can't get anything else in there for all your lettuce!"

"Well one of us has to be healthy when we eat!"

I relax a little more as the night goes on, and Andy starts talking a little more, that black cloud above his head starting to lift. He seems to get over whatever it is bothering him, him and Clarke getting into a detailed conversation about the technicalities of performing on stage. I'm just glad that we haven't embarrassed ourselves just yet.

My back is starting to ache from sitting so straight in this chair, though, and the boys on either side of me are starting to feel like individual furnaces. I don't suppose it would be very polite of me to start fanning myself with the menu.

"Hey," I grab a spoon, thoughtlessly whacking Nate's hand as he tries to reach for one of my fries. He's always such a jerk, ordering something cheap and trying to pick out of someone else's plate if he thinks they're not looking; or honestly if he just wants something he goes for it. "Hands off."

He gives me a wounded expression, rubbing his fingers. "You're not even going to eat it all, Leah!"

"If you wanted fries, order them. And I might." I defend myself. I mean, typically I just end up taking my food home with me and eating the rest within fifteen minutes of being there, but that's beside the point. Fries are like my favorite food, and I'm not sharing. Nate eyes me warily, but I threaten him again with the spoon, so he decides to keep his hands to himself. Good enough for him to not always get what he wants.

We all sit and chat for a while, listening to oldies tunes and enjoying the food which actually is pretty good. Everyone starts passing around show stories, and Andy tells us how he managed to break three ribs performing at one of his earliest shows.

"Oh, I remember that. We were at that show," I say thoughtlessly, having a vague recollection of cringing when he'd started to fall.

"You were?" he looks surprised.

"Yeah. It was when we decided to become a band, it was one of the first concerts we went too." I motioned at the table in general. "It was kind of like a celebratory type thing."

"Yeah, the whole climbing on the wall and jumping down thing, really should have given that more thought," Vale adds, stirring her straw in her drink. "It was a good show though, despite the fact you tried to end it early."

"Well, I like to make my shows memorable." Andy replies, his arm brushing mine as he leans back.

"That you did." My guitarist agrees. "Leah is afraid of heights, so at least I don't have to worry about her getting some big brain idea to climb something. Plus she's clumsy, and I don't think it looks very cool to roll her out on stage in bubblewrap."

Yes, thank you, Vale, let's tell the cute guy about my irrational fear of heights and that I'm unable to stand up without falling.

"I would end up popping all the bubbles during the song, so it might be distracting." I say lightly, earning a grin out of her. My eyes flick to the clock on the wall behind her, noticing that it was getting late. We have an early morning in the studio tomorrow, and staying out all night isn't going to help me focus on recording.

Besides, socializing so long is starting to wear on me, and I can only grit my teeth so much more before I need to see a dentist. I'm normally getting ready for bed at this point anyway, I'm old and like to get plenty of sleep. Plus, well, the medication I take makes me sleepy and I don't like to fight it.

I make an off comment about heading off, and Nate immediately starts whining that it's not late at all, the night is still young and there's so much to do.

"I said that I was going to head off, not that you have too."

"Actually, I should get going too." Andy says, looking at something on his phone. "We have to finish some stuff up in the studio before tour, we still have to get that organized."

"Seriously, I thought they said we could finish that on Monday." Ashley complains, looking annoyed.

"We're supposed to premier it for the show," Andy reminds him, shrugging. "So we need to get some practice in."

Everyone starts shuffling to their feet, and the waiter miraculously appears before us, handing us all our separate bills. Nate, of course, isn't able to pay for his, and so I sigh as I end up swiping my card for both of us like usual. Vale tells me I shouldn't buy his way all the time, but I feel bad if I don't, he gives me those puppy dog eyes.

Vale and CC step outside with some of the others, and I notice that her hand is on his arm as they talk and laugh. I'm a little irritated when Nate and Clarke suddenly head off down the street with Jinxx and Jake without even a word, like where are they even going this time of night? Sure, the city is still awake, but it's late!

Again, we have an early morning!

The waiter hands me a receipt, his fingers lingering against the white paper for a moment. "Hey, um, Miss Kabinov, would it be okay if I got a picture with you?"

"With me?" I blinkat him in surprise, hesitating. Someone wants a photo with me?

"If you don't mind."

"I mean, yeah, that's fine." I fold up the receipt, slipping it into the tiny backpocket of my jeans that are basically useless; why do jeans never have decent pockets? We step out of the way so Andy can pay for his meal, and I quickly let the waiter take a photo with me so he can prove to his friends he met the singer from Escape from Grace.

I'm sure I don't look very cool, my makeup is barely done and I'm in civilian clothing, as Craig calls it when we're not dressed in stage attire. The waiter thanks me profusely before hurrying behind the counter, and I turn, expecting to head out the glass doors where my friends are waiting.

Oh.

I hesitate, staring at the empty street as I suddenly realize everyone has disappeared. Did I just get ditched by my entire band for another band?

#bvb #black veil brides #blackveilbridesfanfiction #black veil brides fan fiction #andy biersack #andy black x oc #andy biersack bvb #andy biersack x oc

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