#Eddie Murphy looks good mind you

[spockvarietyhour]

It was only a matter of time, what with Bruce Willis retiring and the, shall we say, somewhat unmarketable (and antisemitic) Mel Gibson, that we would attempt to resurrect another action franchise

[madelynraemunson]

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI

Chapter 018: Murphy's Law

You’re only against a handful of things. Of course, the one time you go to bed angry, shit hits the fan.

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014** , 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

* = somewhat smutty chapters ** = smut chapters

author's note: 2/23/2024 — i don't want you guys to suffer too much, so the last two chapters will be released tomorrow 2/24/2024. i love you guys, thank you for tuning in ♥️

CW: i don't wanna spoil anything, so this whole chapter is a trigger warning. please be mindful of this before reading; ps thank you to @freckledjoes for letting me use this picture of barron/"steve"

word count: 1.3k words

♡

“I’m Natalia, who are you?”

“I’m...Shy Girl,” you narrow your eyes. “My boyfriend Eddie lives here.”

You've never been good at math. But it doesn't take putting 2 and 2 together to realize that — the car in Eddie's spot this morning — belongs to the Nancy look-alike in front of you.

And if you looked too fast, you would've thought that she WAS Nancy. But the strapless tube top, lettuce-trim booty shorts, and lacy black tights on a cold December morning rule out that possibility.

Your eyes trail over to Steve in the background, frantic and sweaty, hairy chest out on display as he shuffles around to find a shirt to throw on. You clear your throat, meeting Natalia’s blue eyes one more time before speaking again.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Oh no girl, you're fine!" the busty brunette chirps, when she realizes you're no longer a threat to her. "I was just heading out. I guess his roomie is going to be back any second now."

Doing your best to conceal your laughter, you step off to the side to allow Steve's booty call to get her things and scoot out the door. Steve watches awkwardly, leaning against the doorway and flashing Natalia a smile as he watches her get to her car safely.

You wait until she’s out of earshot to speak to him.

“Natalia.” you sing with a smirk. “Really?”

“Don’t make that face.”

“What face?”

“The one you’re making right now, Hargrove. Don’t start.”

Your eyes venture down to the faint bite marks on Steve’s neck. You turn around to look at the doppelgänger one last time, giving her a wave as she drives away.

“Not starting anything,” you insist. “I just think it’s funny.”

He knows what you’re thinking and it doesn’t help his case. Steve steps off to the side, inviting you in. After closing the door behind you, Harrington gestures towards the box in your hand.

“Whatchu got there?”

“Apology cupcakes for Eddie,” you explain. “I was a real bitch to him yesterday so I decided to bake him something to compensate.”

You spent all night guilt-baking, hoping to win Eddie back with the cute vanilla cupcakes topped with sad red frowns on them, followed by a homemade card that reads, "I'm sorry for pushing you against the wall". Expecting Steve to find it adorable, he offers you a rather confused reaction instead.

"…Eddie didn’t stay over last night?” he asks with a cocked brow.

Your heart sinks.

“No… I thought he came straight here after Wayne’s.”

“Well obviously he didn’t,” Steve says. “Hence why I had Nat spend the night.”

“Well do you think he’s at Dustin’s?”

“I’m not sure, I haven’t spoken to the guy since yesterday morning.”

Something's off. Immediately rushing to the living room, you set the cupcakes down so you can call Wayne. It rings a few times but Eddie's uncle doesn’t pick up.

"Wayne's not picking up."

“That’s odd,” Steve gulps. “He almost always does.”

So you go to message Eddie. It's a simple text, Where are you? Straight to the point. To your complete shock, your usual blue text bubbles turn green. Eddie's phone is off. What the hell?

So you go to call him next. It doesn't hurt to try. But then your knees start to buckle when you're immediately directed to an automated voicemail box.

“We’re sorry. Your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please try again later.”

The room is as frostbitten as the air outside. Steve senses abrupt energy shift.

You scroll nervously through your phone. The next person to contact is Dustin. Outside of his friendship with Steve, he is the next person closest to Eddie. But Curly doesn't pick up either.

"Oh god," you feel the color rushing from your face.

"Hargrove, i-it's okay," Steve attempts. "He's probably with Jeff or Gareth or Grant or somethin', o-okay? Let's not jump to conclusions."

He rests a warm hand atop your arm, grounding you back down to earth. You turn to him with worry. He rubs your back to comfort you.

"Eddie would never do anything to hurt himself on purpose," Steve assures you. "I can promise you that much. Don't let your mind go there."

"Okay," you exhale.

"But he is stupid though," Steve adds. "So, to be safe, we should probably check the hospital. Or urgent care. Dude probably cucked his ankle again."

And with that, you two set off to Hawkins Memorial on the other side of town.

The icy roads seem to draw on for miles as Steve drives. And you had no desire to explore the vastness of Roane County, for as long as Eddie isn’t there waiting for you at whatever coordinate the wind blows you to next.

Tapping your feet anxiously on the floor, you click your phone on and off again to see whether or not a message from Eddie pops up. It’s the same outcome every time.

Steve’s gentle hand rests on top of your trembling ones once again. He gives you a soft pat.

“It’ll all be okay, Shy Girl,” he says to you. “Promise.”

Thankfully, hospital parking is almost immediate. Booking it to the emergency department now, you and Steve rush to get to the front of the line to speak to the receptionist. When it's finally your turn, she greets you rather stoically.

“Can I help you?”

Without violating HIPAA?

“I sure hope so,” you sigh. “This is a wellness check. Do you guys maybe have a Munson admitted here?”

“Munson…” the last name marinates on the lady’s tongue almost as if she’s familiar with it. You wouldn’t doubt it. Wayne’s a frequent flyer due to the cancer and Hawkins is quite literally a speck of dust on the map.

You try to help her. “Maybe an Eddie…Edward… or quite possibly a Wayne…”

“Quite possibly a Wayne?” the lukewarm secretary echos you.

“Yes!” you hiss urgently. “Or maybe a John Doe? A guy in his late twenties, early thirties... This person most likely came in yesterday afternoon, night, or maybe even this morning. He has brown hai-"

“Shy Girl…” comes a voice behind you.

It’s one of the Munsons you’re looking for. But to your surprise, not the one you were expecting.

"Wayne..." you breathe.

In front of you is Eddie's uncle, sitting in his wheelchair evidently a bawling mess. If he’s here and Eddie’s not, it can only mean one thing.

Your throat tightens and you struggle to speak. A thin veil of tears gloss over your eyes, your fingertips essentially frozen now as the sterile white building closes up around you.

“Wayne…” you say again. “What happened?”

His uncle sniffs, drawing out uneven breaths as he tries to calm down, nose an irritable red to match his glassy, sleep-deprived eyes.

“There’s... been an accident,” he chokes. “They T-boned him. Van is totaled.”

That van. That stupid fucking van you’ve told Eddie time and time again to get rid of.

“Wayne," Steve interrogates. "Who drove you here?”

“The Henderson boy.”

You can't take it anymore.

“Where is he?!” you demand. “And why aren’t you with him, Wayne?! WHERE IS EDDIE?”

“Doctors won’t tell me nothin'!” Wayne blubbers, his voice cracking like a helpless child. “But as someone whose second home is the hospital, I know what that means.”

The three of you take this time to cry. You instantly collapse into Steve's arms. He embraces you tight, dragging you off to the side so the people who were waiting behind you could be helped next.

Nothing matters anymore, you think to yourself. This is what you get for going to bed angry. The one time. The one time. And as the three of you start to gather yourselves again — rather slowly — Wayne speaks once more... uttering a belief that you've already come to terms with. Something that you already know.

“It’s not looking good for Eddie.”

🏷️ tag list: @chrrymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @motherfckerr , @jxpsi , @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @mediocredreams @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron @kellsck @joyfulfxckery @munsons-mayhem28 @dragonfire @emma77645 @drivelikenina @livosssblog @thinkingth0ts @hugdealer @ellielunamckay @xblueriddlex @maskofmirrors @babyloutattoo89 @queenofhawkins

oh yeah, song of the chapter is...

side note: s/o to DR. bridgit mendler, the irl barbie

[formosusiniquis]

have your cake

So way back in August 2023 the steddiemicrofic challenge was Cake and 311 words, my head empty brain came up with one thought and it was Steve Munson having a bakery called Mun's Buns and so many months later I finally got around to finishing my vision

Ships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson; Tommy Hagan/Carol Perkins; implied/past Tommy Hagan/Steve Harrington/Carol Perkins WC: 6408 | T | tags: Future Fic, the lightest of post homoerotic friendship breakup angst, fluff, Tommy POV AO3

The bakery has a stupid name, is the first thing Tommy thinks when Carol tells him where he's supposed to meet her on his lunch break. He’s still thinking that, when he sees the place for the first time through his rain speckled windshield. It's a modest storefront, small for what Carol says is a booming business, tucked in next to a used bookstore and a music shop. There's a baby yellow awning hanging from the front just underneath a sign lettered in soft blue that reads Mun's Buns.

He's late, is the second thing he thinks after pulling up. Caught up in some stupid bullshit for his dad he hadn't managed to slip away until 12:30. Even then it had only been because Tommy had told him he was going to be late for their cake tasting. He'd rolled his eyes when his father and Greg, a guy that Tommy only considers a co-worker in the sense that they are technically on the same payroll since Greg in every other aspect is incompetent and an idiot, had winced. Shooing him away like a kid who'd just admitted that he's already twenty minutes past curfew. But catching sight of the way Carol has her arms crossed, tapping her foot fast enough to kickstart a motor, while her hair hangs limp in a way that it hadn’t this morning a third thought crosses his mind: maybe he should have been a little more worried.

Waiting isn’t going to make things any better. So he steps out of the car, let’s the misty damp cling to him in a way that makes his dress pants and button down feel like a poorly tailored second skin, and takes his licks like a man. "Late, thirty minutes late. Christ, it's the only thing I've asked from you Tommy." Her right hook stings just as badly as it did sophomore year when she punched him for asking out Erin Murphy instead of her.

Shit like that is probably why no one expected them to make it this long or this far.

When they went away to college; different schools, hours apart. His parents had been gleeful as they'd warned him that high school relationships didn't always last. That he should keep his options open, he didn't want to miss out on the love of his life just because of comfort. He didn't get offered the family ring when he decided to propose right after graduation. Carol has always been particular. Wanted the house to come back to before the wedding could happen, wanted a long honeymoon. That meant saving, a lot of it. Tommy knew and Carol did too, they'd overheard his mother and aunt gossiping in too loud voices after too much wine that they hoped the long engagement meant they were both trying to figure out a good way to break it off with one another. 

Still, over the course of their now five year engagement no one's asked once if they wanted to trade for it.

Carol thought it was horrendous anyway. She’d had her ring picked out since ‘85, styled her class ring so it would look like the oval cut diamond she wanted. Had him slide it on her finger the second it came in.

Cause in the politest of terms, Carol could be a raging bitch. She was Tommy's favorite person in the entire world.

There’s going to be a bruise on his shoulder tomorrow, even if she’s guiltily smoothing a hand down his arm now. Thrust toward the door first in offering, Carol is sorry she hit him but she’s not apologetic. “I’m serious, Tom, if we lose this appointment and have to go with Sweet Treats for our cake I'll- I'll-"

Whatever threat she was preparing is drowned out and then cut off by the echoing TONG of the door chime. A light in the back shifts color for a second, out of place enough that he wonders if he even really saw it. Head tilting toward Carol, his question catches in his throat when he notices her pinched off appraising. Better not to add to the ammunition she might already be building.

And if Carol is looking he better do it too. She'll want to debrief when they're having dinner tonight, just like they did with the florist, the caterer, the three wedding planners they'd met with, and each of the venues that they'd visited. And it wasnt because she was demanding, fuck you Greg. It wasn't because she was being nitpick-y, alright it was a little bit because she was but he liked being particular with her. He liked being involved in his wedding.

So he looked around.

The way they utilized their space -- a building that big and there's barely enough room to stand, we want someone who knows how to work with limited space for the venues we're looking at -- was the reason their first wedding planner hadn't gotten hired. Small, but not cramped. There are a handful of tables scattered in the open space in front of the counter. It’s the kind of small town cozy that Hawkins had tried for and he doesn’t see very often anymore now that they’ve moved out to Indianapolis.

It’s lunchtime, still too early for people to be seeking out the rows of deserts in their neat glass counter and too late for the breakfast crowd. But one of the tables is occupied by a teenager with long, black braids scribbling in a notebook while a slice of ice cream cake melts on a plate by her elbow. 

Everything was neat, organized, and compliant with health code regulations -- they hadn’t even made it in the door of the first caterer’s when she noticed a trail of ants and roaches marching into the open kitchen door.

Carol had always been quick when she was making up her mind about something. Like those Sherlock Holmes stories they’d had to read in school, in a couple of seconds she could spot everything she needed to make a decision. After a decade Tommy still couldn’t keep up; but he was always best at following someone else’s lead.

The smile she’s got frosted across her face is as sugary and fake as the roses on the cupcakes he can see behind the low topped counters as she approaches the only visible staff member. A girl, young in the way that nebulous way anyone younger than him was now, with thick squared glasses that magnified two distressingly blue eyes. The counters looked like they were designed to sit low enough that she could easily see over the top while in her wheelchair.

“Welcome to,” her customer service tone borders on bored. Two words into a clear script and she sighs, as if saying the name physically pains her, “Mun’s Buns. We’ve got a special series of summer flavors: Strawberry Lemonade, Lavender Mint, Chocolate Fudgsicle, and,” she sighs again, “for the grownups a boozy Blue Moon with orange zest.”

“How about a wedding cake.” He’s impressed. Carol made it through the speech without interrupting.

“Do you have an appointment?” the girl raises her voice, enough to make them both flinch back. Customer service isn’t a requirement for this part of the job necessarily, but Carol had bailed on two venues because the staff hadn’t been polite enough.

Her smile doesn’t crack though, “Yes.”

Even though he’s pretty sure this girl has to be basically blind with the inch thick frames, she levels Carol with a lethal stare. “Not you.”

From the open entryway behind her Tommy had been able to make out what sounded like the highlights of yesterday’s game. He assumed that space had to be the kitchen where these rows of deserts were made. He’s still surprised when a guy’s voice is shouting back, “I don't know, Max, do I? Why don't you check?”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Max shouts back, glowering at then in stand in for her mystery boss.

“With your finger, asshole. It's in braille. When I gave you this job you said you were actually gonna work.”

“Douchebag." Her eyes never leave them, while her hands rummage around in a space beneath the counter where the cash register sits. Max offers no explanation or apology for her shouting or for her boss. A large red appointment book gets slammed down on the nearest counter, making Carol jump but the neat two by twos of chocolate frosted cupcakes don't budge. He watches, a little fascinated by the way her finger scans the page before slowing. "Did you write this or did Dustin?"

Carol has always valued gossip over professionalism, he thinks that’s why she’s done so well as a hairdresser even though she was always awful at chemistry. It’s also why he’s held off from pointing out that they could solve this a lot faster if this guy would come out from the back. "Why?" 

“Cause one of you can't spell and one of you is trying to invent braille shorthand. So I'm not really sure what to do with TomGan Wed.”

“It might be Thomas and Wedding.” Carol leans over the appointment book as she says it, using a tone of voice he has never once heard her use in the entire time he’s known her. He thinks it’s supposed to be helpful.

“Wedding sampler.” The girl calls toward the back, “It's getting late.”

“I’ve got it,” the voice from the back shouts back.There’s an effortless assurance Tommy can hear from where he’s standing. It hits him with a wave of nostalgia so strong he grabs Carol’s arm on instinct.

“Really,” she says, cutting her gaze over to him. He’s not sure what she sees. “If we could hurry this along, it's just we've only got an hour.”

“You're late.” The glare she gets shuts Carol down faster than he’s ever seen.

“Right.”

“Okay I've got it.” The voice from the back is now the voice in the doorway. Hidden for a second by a serving tray loaded with samples of rich looking cake, it’s the first time since arriving that Tommy has actually wanted to be here. Not just because he can make out strong shoulders and a body of a man that’s still very fit but clearly enjoys his work too; the hint of love handles above strong thighs. Only then that tray dips, and for the first time since 1985 Tommy finds himself looking at the shocked hazel eyes of Steve Harrington. “Oh.”

Carol reacts for him, taking in a breath sharp enough she might puncture a lung. They’ll both wind up suffocated on the floor of this stupid bakery with an awful name, because Tommy can’t manage to breathe at all looking at Steve. Still unfairly handsome, faintly pink at the shock of seeing them too he imagined.

His hair is long, is the first real thought his half fried brain manages to put together. Soft looking even where it’s damp at the temples where sweat has pooled. He has it pulled back with a couple of the same butterfly clips that Carol likes to use.

His second, somehow more hysterical thought: this wasn’t how Steve Harrington was supposed to be included in his wedding.

Tommy was six years old and knew he wanted to marry Steve. When he’d told his mom -- to ask for her ring, Steve thought it was romantic like princes and princesses that they had a special ring that they got married with -- she’d grabbed by his arm so hard it’d left finger shaped bruises. So he’d held that certainty quiet in his heart until he was ten, and suddenly it was okay to want to play with girls on the playground -- he thinks it’s because Steve got tired of there never being an even number when they tried to play kickball, he had a way of making everyone want to do the thing he was. Carol wasn’t afraid to tell Tommy C. that he was dumb or to tell Mark L. that he hadn’t actually made it to the base, Steve liked her fast. Too fast, and Tommy had to tell her that one day he was going to be able to keep Steve all to himself. But he knew that it wasn’t right to say that now, even if he wasn’t all the way sure why it wasn’t. He was ten, but he would be eleven soon, and he took this part of him that he’d kept secret for so long and he whispered it to Carol under the slide while Steve tried to convince Brad P. that he could too pick two people for his kickball team first.

He was ten and Carol said they could share. Boys can’t marry boys, but girls can. So they could both marry her and live together forever.

It became a joke when they finally shared it with Steve, thirteen and boys going out with girls wasn’t funny the way it used to be. Sarah Jane asked Carol if she had a chance at going steady with Steve. She told Tommy about it later and they both told Steve that he was too good to date any of the girls in their grade. “Well I’ve got you guys,” his voice cracked when he said it, throwing an arm around both of them. Carol didn’t care as much, but even she’d noticed the way Steve was changing from boyish to handsome.

They were sixteen and disaster was just around the corner, not that he knew that. Steve dated around but he always came back to them. The head, the heart, the body. They don’t feel complete without each other -- at least Tommy doesn’t. Mr. Kripke, who was hungover more often than he wasn't, passed out ten minutes into study hall. Carol didn’t even wait to see if he’d wake back up before she left her assigned table for theirs. She smoothed out a lined piece of notebook paper for them, and Tommy scoffed like he was supposed to. “Aren’t we a little old to be playing MASH?”

“It’s dirty MASH, and I thought you’d think it was funny.”

“I think it’s funny,” Steve had said, “that you’re getting eiffel towered on your wedding night. Who else is joining in, Carrie?”

“We couldn’t agree on who got you for their side of the aisle. So we’re taking you to bed instead.”

He was sixteen and the way that the two of them looked when they shared a joke was the hottest thing in the world. The way their smiles mirror when they turned to him, sharp and ready to flay open the softest parts of him.

Tommy’s two days older when Steve lets him kiss the taste of Carol out of his mouth.

It was three days after he turned seventeen and he had to pretend he didn't want to die when he saw how Steve looked at Nancy Wheeler. Like he didn’t want to rip his hair out because Steve was fucking infatuated with this mousy little teacher’s pet and wouldn’t even look at him anymore.

He still doesn’t like to think about the breakup. He pokes it like a fresh bruise. Less often now, but when he does he digs his fingers in. Baits Carol into fights he doesn’t mean just so he can pretend like he hasn’t lost something that hurts like a limb.

Steve Harrington turns twenty-eight next week, and he’s standing in front of them both holding pieces of what might turn into their wedding cake.

“Wow I can’t believe you’re in Indy!” False excitement grates, but at least Carol has gotten herself together enough to speak. He thought he’d have at least another few months to prepare for the thought of seeing Steve, by their ten year reunion he was going to be married and happy and over it.

“Yeah, this is- Married, wow! I kinda can’t believe you haven’t already.” He says it to Carol, his platitudes had always been for Carol, but his eyes find Tommy. 

While Carol chatters at them and for them both, nervous, he knows she’s nervous. The situation is sudden and strange and fraught. But Tommy just looks at Steve, who looks at him. He’s getting married in three months, one week, and two days from now and for the first time in eleven years Steve is looking at him.

"Takes a while to save up for when you want the best of everything. Dad's still the skinflint he always was, I think he'd pay me less than minimum wage if he could get away with it."

And those soft brown eyes look so sad, looking at him. Sometimes he thinks no one will ever understand him the way that Steve did.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting the best, or having a long engagement." Carol defends. It's the same line she's been giving everyone. Defensive of him and herself and the choices they've been making. He can't believe Steve is someone she thinks they have to defend against.

“I really hope you're happy, man," he says, and the sincerity is a balm on the sting of this conversation. He pushes his hair back from his face, the way he always has when he's uncomfortable and trying not to make it obvious. And there's a fresh new hurt when Tommy catches sight of a plain gold band on Steve's finger, shining bright between the golden highlights of his hair.

“I’m happy about this,” he can say honestly. Carol is one of the only things he’s ever been sure about. She held him steady as she could when his other sure thing left him with a cracked foundation in a convenience store parking lot. “What about you? How long after meeting the future Mrs. Harrington did you wait to put a ring on her finger?”

“Tommy,” Carol chides as the teen in the corner snorts. To anyone else it would sound like a reprimand for being nosy, he, and he suspects Steve, knows she’s telling him to stop worrying a scab that has no hope of healing right.

Married and they didn’t know. Wouldn’t have found out until the reunion. It’s not like he expected an invitation, maybe an engagement announcement sent to their parents’ houses. They’d sent one to Loch Nora when the real ring had finally made it to Carrie’s finger. It was equal parts olive branch and offering. They’d gotten it back return to sender with no forwarding address.

The bell above the door tongs again, loud enough to make Carol jump. The platter of cakes doesn't shift at all in Steve’s hand. His arm shows no sign of fatigue. It’s almost distracting enough that he misses the obvious. The bell signals someone is coming into the store.

“Sorry, Sweetheart. I know I said I wasn't gonna be late but Mike…” There just inside the door is the Freak. Undeniable even with his head down as he digs through his shoulder bag. From the riot of poorly maintained tangles that still hang around his shoulders to the expanded mess of tacky ink on his arms. The only thing that’s changed is the age in his face and the band on his shirt.

“Munson?” Carol has the reflexes and the personal grace to address him first. Shock more than the disgust it might have been when they were still kids.

Tommy feels like a kid still. Looks to Steve in an instinct he’d thought he’d stamped out years ago, only to be met with wide eyes and teeth grit tight enough to draw out the square line of his jaw.

“Christ, I still get nightmares that start like this.” Munson says, eye darting between the three of them. “Max, am I naked?”

“Don't know, don't wanna know.”

“I thought you'd be able to tell by the energy in the room.” He wiggles his fingers, still bedecked in silver, like they can divine the vibrations or some witchy shit.

That’s enough to make Steve break just a little. A soft, exhaling scoff before he finally starts to move out from the counter. Tommy catches, and he doubts Carol misses it either, how Steve passes the closer tables to set his tray down between them and Munson.

“I can tell I don't want to be here for this.” Their redheaded audience member says, “I'm taking my 15.”

“Don't go harass Mike, he's finally working,” Munson says.

“Will and El are on shift on the other side,” Steve calls out, not looking at any of them as he moves cakes from his tray to the table. A deliberate selection he seems to be making.

“Whatever, I’m gonna call Lucas and break up with him so he can play better or whatever.”

“Don’t be too harsh,” Munson calls out, “I’ve only got him on a five point spread.”

If Carol’s nails break from how hard they’re digging into his arm, somehow it’ll be Tommy’s fault. Not the fact that they’ve advanced the worst part of their ten year reunion by months, and also Munson is here and knows shit about basketball.

“Sorry, think my hearing’s going, sounded like you said you want him to lose and he’s getting kicked from the next one shot. I’ll let him know.”

“She gets that from you,” Steve and Munson say in sync. Glaring playfully at one another the way Steve used to with Carol.

“I’ll tell Robin you were-”

“Do not sick Buckley on me, Max made the deaf joke not me.”

“Weird, that’s not what I heard.” Steve has always claimed his hair as his best feature. It isn’t -- Carrie liked his eyes, Tommy his hands -- but it’s hard to deny that it doesn’t look good, flipping over his shoulder. His smile is private, just for Munson, soft the way he got whenever he picked up a new girl. Carrie taps the back of his hand, two sharp smacks, their signal for years that he needed to pay attention and notice something she had. Wide, nervous eyes dart to Steve -- like he hadn’t already been looking at Steve -- so he does his best to assess the way Carol would.

Jealous, viciously, Steve had been theirs in every way that mattered since they were ten years old and Carol had never liked sharing her toys with anyone but them. She watched his face for any sign of unhappiness anytime a new girlfriend came along, and when she found one she passed it along to him. So he could pick and joke until Steve was all theirs again.

So he checked the face. Tried to ignore the way Steve was lit up from the inside out with a joy he could barely remember, and then he saw the hearing aid.

He tapped back, three times. O.M.G.

“The 1985 Homecoming court here to reveal that this has all been a long con, Stevie?”

“Yeah I faked the name change paperwork and picked up a fake ID, sorry I took my business somewhere else.” Steve says it with the sincerity he’s always made those kind of jokes with, his strange sense of humor never coming across when he always sounded so serious. 

Munson gets it though, snorts loud and ugly, before a smile pulls wide across half his face the otherside taught with a gnarly scar. “Now I know why my fake ID business went belly up when we got to the city, not like I only sold three in high school.”  He gestures to the three of them in a wide arc.

Sophomores, they had decided it was time to throw their first real party now that Steve’s parents had moved out of Hawkins in all but name. Steve was a latchkey kid of new proportions and took to self sufficiency in a way that had seemed adult to him then; and in hindsight looked more like a child fighting for his life. Steve bragged how he’d been saving up the weekly checks they’d sent to ‘sustain him’ while they worked in the city during the week. His contribution to Tommy and Carol’s vague plan to throw a kegger by the pool. When they’d floundered, immediately, with the hows, Steve had been the one to suggest going to Munson.

“Love this preview of the reunion,” Carol cuts in, there’s no bite but Munson bristles anyway like she’s being rude for reminding them that there are customers present. “Steve?”

It’s funny, Tommy thinks, the way Steve still straightens his back at Carol’s tone. All this time and he can’t fight the old ingrained instincts either.

“Dustin made the appointment,” Steve apologizes, even as he’s posture perfect and preparing his pastries. The unsaid, ‘I definitely wouldn’t have’ doesn’t go unheard and it doesn’t sting any less even this far from their last interaction.

“Munson could join us,” Tommy offers, a new olive branch since their last one was never seen. Even if it does raise three sets of brows and makes Carrie’s nervous smile tighten even more in the corner of her mouth.

“Well at least one of us has to,” Munson, Eddie, says. Just says, tone like it was meant to be something said under his breath.

He's grown up a lot since high school, they both have. Still, he's only got twenty minutes left on his lunch break and it's been a long day. "God, is that why it's called that?" Growth, he doesn't say that Steve Munson sounds a lot dumber than Steve Harrington.

"It's charming," Carol and Steve both say. Though Carrie is definitely lying and Steve barely gets it out from between his gritted teeth, a sore spot. He's always been good at finding Steve's bruises.

"It's charming," Tommy agrees, like he always did when he was out voted.

Eddie has a smirk spread across his face and a ‘too proud of himself’ look in his eyes. Mouth open to make some quip that Tommy is going to pretend is funny, for Steve’s sake. Now that they’re here, he’s going to do something to show that they could talk to one another again. Steve clicks his tongue, taps his index and middle finger down to his thumb two quick times before he can.

He turns to the girl in the corner, "Erica, scram, go help Robin and the kids with the new donation that just came in."

The teen continues to scribble in the notebook in front of her, bulky headphones over her ears, she makes no sign that Tommy can see that she's heard Steve speak. "Erica, go, or I'll tell your mother you moved out of the dorms. You're 20, it's not child labor, and you've got a timecard."

She sighs and wordlessly packs up her things, she gives Steve a scathing look that takes Tommy back to high school. The withering eyebrow and rolled eyes would have been just at home on Steve’s own face in 1985, but she marches behind the counter, the sound of her dish rattling in the sink before she disappears out the same door that the redhead had gone out.

Now that the room has been cleared, an awkward silence has found the space to squeeze in. Munson, the original, still standing in the doorway and Steve standing between his unlawfully wedded husband and the two people who had lost their chance at him years ago.

The wedding and the reunion both on the horizon had dredged up a nostalgia that Tommy and Carol had been dealing with in their own ways. Dredging up old yearbooks, Carol had found a shoebox of old notes that she’d kept. Conversations written in three different inks by three different hands, nonsensical after all this time. Tommy woke up from dreams that he hadn’t had in years. Always of Steve and Carol, a study in opposites, but similar where it mattered.

“Well,” Steve says, taking charge of the situation like he always would when the other two faltered, “you’re here for a reason. We might as well get started on it.”

Steve’s fingerprints are still on them, just like he’d noticed theirs on him, molded as they were together. They’ve always bowed to his expectations, and his whims. When he ushers them to the table with a spread hand, Tommy and Carol go where they’re beckoned.

And so does Munson.

They keep an empty chair between them, an artificial divide for Tommy’s sanity, but with the sprawl of Munson’s legs their knees still occasionally brush together. Carol had taken the spot closest to Steve, who has stayed standing. He is their gracious host, marking the head of the round table.

“I pulled out the full sampler before I realized it was you,” Steve says. Even with as off balance as the interaction has felt, Tommy doesn’t feel his hackles raising. While it’s possible he’s gotten more subtle with his digs, Steve’s vicious tongue was usually unmistakable. “I can tell you about as many of them as you want though if you want to pretend like we don’t already know what I’ll be making you. I’m sure neither of you have eaten lunch yet.”

“You are going to take us on?” Carol asks. Shock always gives her tone an extra edge, defensive and catty, even if she’s really just waiting to see if another shoe will drop.

“Obviously,” Steve says, placing a faintly orange square of cake in front of her. He slaps Eddie’s hand away from another piece without looking away from either of them. “That’s as far as I’ll be going in participation though.”

He doesn’t miss the way Steve’s mouth twitches up with the joke, a filthy smirk that leaves Tommy flushing hot. Too warm to not be a bright and obvious red at the acknowledgment of that old private in-joke.

It doesn’t get better when Carol moans, “Oh my god, Steve!” Even if it is about the cake.

He laughs, and Tommy suspects the two are actually trying to kill him. He chances a glance over at Munson who looks like he doesn’t care at all that his husband has made Tommy’s fiance moan. He is watching Tommy though, an inquisitive look like the one Carol gets when she happens to catch a nature documentary.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees with Carol, “I’ll do something small with that citrus cake for you and Tom so you’ve got something you’ll actually eat on your wedding, maybe a pineapple buttercream on top like that nasty Juicy Fruit gum you like so much.”

“I mean it’s really crazy how you’re so good at this when you’ve never had any taste,” Carol compliments, she never did learn how to be nice.

He could probably count Steve’s teeth in the answering smile. Tommy can feel it like an ache in his chest how much he missed this. He snatches another cube of cake off the tray just so has something else to focus on.

“That’s the fancy one for the people who hate their guests,” Munson says as the cake has settled on the flat of Tommy’s tongue.

“It’s lavender,” Steve corrects, and the floral flavor is lodged in the back of his throat at least gives him a reason now to feel so choked up. “And it is for a particular sort of bride.”

“Are you saying I’m not fancy and particular, Munson?” Carol asks. 

She’s obviously talking to Eddie Munson, who lifts his hands up in answer. But it’s Steve who says, “If you tried to feed that to Gail she would leave the reception bitching the whole time.”

“Well go on,” Tommy finds himself goading now that he’s swallowed, “finish calling your shot, Stevie. You said you knew what we were walking out of here with.”

Carol reaches across the table, locking eyes with Eddie as she snags the piece closest to him. The one his fingers had been inching toward like he thought Steve wouldn’t notice him trying to take it.

“I’ll make a small citrus cake for you, Carrie, we’ll hide it in the back of the larger cake so you can get the pictures of you cutting it and smashing into each other's faces-”

“We will not be doing that,” she interrupts, the warning for him and also unnecessary. He already knows how she feels about being embarrassed in public.

“Then the big cake for your guests will be a chocolate cake, I can cover it in a buttercream or a fondant icing also chocolate, because it’s the only kind of cake the Hagan family will eat. Even though I’m sure John hasn’t given you a dime for the wedding, he’ll complain until Hannah gets married if he doesn’t like the cake.”

“Really,” Steve continues, “the only thing up in the air is how many people you were able to get away with not inviting, Care.”

The two of them start talking actual wedding logistics, and as Tommy grabs another bite of cake -- this one looks like it might be a normal flavor -- he figures the real show of good faith would be talking to the only other person at the table while he eats what Steve correctly dubbed his lunch.

“Y’know he never actually answered me,” he says in an undertone.

Munson seems surprised at being spoken to, only widens his eyes in response to Tommy’s unasked question.

“I asked Steve how soon after the first date he proposed, he never actually answered.”

Eddie softens at the edges before he can even say anything. Steve had a way of doing that, bringing out the romantic in a person. He loved with a passion that demanded it be matched. “Technically I proposed to him, but he says it doesn’t count because we weren’t together and I was high on morphine after a major surgery and thought he was Apollo, come to whisk me away.” The smile on Munson’s face looks dopey and drugged up now, like the very memory of whatever hospital stay is so ingrained in his mind he can feel the high now.

“But,” he goes on, “he told me we were getting married whether it was legal or not about three months after he got legally married to another woman.”

“Stop,” Steve has always been able to sense when he’s about to be the butt of the joke. He has a finger pointed at Eddie like a teacher delivering a lecture. “You can’t tell people that. It was for tax reasons, I’m not cheating on my wife.”

“You say tomato, I say whichever one of us is your least favorite has to be the extramarital affair.”

“I say, you’re the most obnoxious person I’ve ever met.” Tommy can hear the warm affection behind the insult, the way their picking is a safer way to express their passion for one another.

He thought he would be jealous of whoever finally managed to reel in Steve Harrington for good, and he is. The emotion is there, present in the snarling tangle of emotions that this encounter has left in him. One that he and Carol will have to slowly tease and pick out tonight when they’re home in bed. Trying to make sense of what each thread is and what it means for them. But the one bright pulsing thread he can make sense of is happiness. He’s happy for Steve, happy that he gets to see an old friend so at ease and obviously cared for.

And he’s sad that his time is up, his lunch hour so close to an end he’ll be late getting back to the office. Something he can already hear his Dad and fucking Greg giving him shit for. Which means they have to end their time here.

Steve walks them to the door, flips the sign to mark them closed for lunch.

“Congratulations again, you two,” he says, “I really am happy I can get to be a part of this with you all. Even if it’s a little different than we used to imagine.”

Carol reaches out for the both of them, puts her hand on his arm. Tommy finds that he’s the one who actually says, “We’re glad you found someone who makes you this happy, dude. You deserve it.”

“Yeah, he’s alright most of the time.” It's said with such fondness it becomes a declaration. It’s hard to imagine how they thought they could ever be the something that could make Steve this happy. But maybe in a different life, under different circumstances it could have been.

There’s a minute where they all stand in the doorway. He wonders if they’re all afraid that this might be the last time they see each other, speak to one another, until Steve is delivering the cake on the day of the wedding. Maybe it’s just him, he was the one who pushed back the hardest after things ended.

Someone finally gives in and pushes the door open. It’s TONG a death toll for their current conversation. But it also sends a jolt through Steve, he straightens to his full height like a shock has gone through him. “Here,” he says, “here, um.” He digs around in his apron until he finds a pen and a receipt pad. Jots down something before tearing it off and putting it in Tommy’s hands, “It's our home number, in case you have any cake emergencies or something.”

They really can’t stay any longer.

Carol takes the note, better at keeping track of these things than Tommy is. It’s hard to know if they’ll actually use it, maybe after they talk about it, but if they do she’ll be the one to do it. She’s always been braver than him.

There’s no way of guaranteeing anything but the fact that they’ll have a cake on the table on their wedding day. But he hopes that Steve might stay for the ceremony once he brings it, he can even bring Eddie if that’s what gets him there. 

Alone in his car, Tommy lets himself take a minute to think about Steve Harrington one last time. He isn’t going to get what he wanted as a kid. Doubts that he’ll ever be as close to Steve as he’d been in childhood, too much time has passed and too much has changed.

But there’s an opportunity to get to know Steve Munson, and he isn't going to pass it up. Even if he doesn’t know how to name a bakery.

[valenschmidt]

Got to love people always assuming someone is straight. Heteronormative society. Oliver has as far as we know one long term female partner that he ended things with not too long ago (after nearly a decade it seems). That doesn’t automatically mean he’s straight. As mentioned by yourself, he doesn’t see a difference when having to kiss a man nor a woman. He also alluded to caring more about how a person makes you feel and if they bring happiness to you than gender (in the Men’s Health live from June). He also did a little interview from a few years ago where he said he loved Pose and wanted to be on the show. That is a show about black and brown queer characters in the 80s/90s ballroom scene in New York. The only white guy on that show was Evan Peters (who always works with Ryan Murphy) whose character liked trans women. Simply, if Oliver likes it, he doesn’t care what anyone else has to say.

Hello anon!!!

Right?!?!?! Bt mostly love to get Oliver into their argument saying that he is straight and that is why the kissing looks weird and bla bla bla and...

1st I didn't mention Oliver in that bucktommy post because He is definitely NOT the reason why that kiss (makeout session according to them) looks stiff and awkward

2nd Oliver actually confirmed he doesn't mind kissing men like he really said that it was the same as kissing a woman so the issue was not with him. If he has to tongue kiss a man he will absolutely do it

Also yes he has never actually confirmed his sexuality and even though we only know about his on and off for years ex Hannah, so we can't assume he is straight or not until he himself confirms it and until then, his sexuality is none of our business.

I will be using this post as well to make a clarification

I for one am straight so I never want to assume anyone's sexuality and I don't ever want to press someone to tell me because it is none of my business unless they want to tell me that. If someone is from the lgbtq community and wants to tell me I will be ready to embrace them and thank them for telling me and be as supportive as I can (I am quite literally called Valentina like the ally from that one video so it makes sense 🤣) so everyone from the community will always have a safe space in my blog to talk and I welcome any advice if I step over the line about something

Going back to Oliver, we should not assume he is straight but no one should ever question his sexuality now that Buck has been confirmed bi because he doesn't owe his sexuality to anyone so it pisses me off that bt want to excuse his fave lfjr being stiff while kissing a man by saying they are both straight so of course they are uncomfortable because they are actors but no. It shouldn't be like that... if they are not comfortable then they can say so and talk about it with the intimacy coordinator and Oliver has pretty much confirmed that he isn't uncomfortable so...

And on that topic I don't want a repeat of what Kit Connor went through so this is not for you anon this is just a general thing... If/when Eddie is confirmed gay and buddie gets together I don't want ANYONE talking about Oliver or Ryan's sexualities because they don't owe it to anyone to say anything.

Have a good day anon! Thank you for giving me the space to talk

[dragonydreams]

Fic: Kisses & Confessions - BuckTommy

Title: Kisses & Confessions Fandom: 9-1-1 Rating: Teen Audiences and Up Pairings/Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard Additional Tags: BuckTommy, Kissing, Confessions Summary: Buck and Tommy spend the day together after meeting for coffee. Timeline: Post 7x05 Word Count: 1,000 Disclaimer: I claim no ownership over these characters. I am merely borrowing them from Reamworks, Brad Falchuk Teley-Vision, Ryan Murphy Television, and 20th Television. Betas: Thank you to @medieshanachie for looking this over for me. Author's Note: Just a fun little scene that came to me.

Read on AO3

Coffee led to a walk, which led to lunch, which led to Tommy walking Buck home, which led to Buck inviting Tommy up.

"I still owe you a beer," Buck said on the steps to his building, looking up at Tommy through his eyelashes. (And wasn't that a new sensation; to be looking up at someone he had a crush on?)

Tommy smiled at Buck and agreed, "One beer," before following him inside. 

Buck fidgeted with his keys on the elevator ride up, if only to keep his hands to himself and not on Tommy. He really wanted to get his hands on Tommy.

Once inside his apartment, he beelined for the fridge and took out two beers. He removed the tops before offering one to Tommy.

"You know, I hadn't realized you weren't out when I kissed you," Tommy said, accepting the beer Buck handed him.

Buck huffed out a laugh and admitted, "I hadn't realized I liked men until you kissed me."

Tommy nearly choked on the sip of beer he'd just taken. Buck rubbed his back as Tommy coughed. 

"I'm sorry, say that again," Tommy said between coughs.

Buck flushed. "I, um, hadn't actually been aware that I liked men before you kissed me."

"But I saw you checking out Eddie's ass," Tommy said. 

"Eddie has a great ass," Buck pointed out. 

"Agreed, but that's not something straight men usually notice."

"I knew Maddie was lying when she said it wasn't abnormal to check out a hot guy's ass!" Buck exclaimed.

"You talked to Maddie about checking out guys' asses?" Tommy asked, amused.

"I didn't mean to. But I was talking to her about Saturday and I let your pronoun slip and she had questions."

"I'm sure. While our kiss was nice, I hadn't expected it to be life altering," Tommy said.

"I really liked that kiss," Buck said, eyes dropping to Tommy's mouth. "I-I was kinda hoping to do it again."

"Ah, I see I was lured up here under false pretenses," Tommy said, setting his beer on the kitchen counter behind them.

"N-not false," Buck said, eyes darkening at the sudden look of hunger on Tommy's face as Tommy took the beer from his loose fingers and set it on the counter as well. "There was beer."

"I don't really care about the beer," Tommy said, stepping closer to Buck.

"Oh, thank God," Buck said, moments before Tommy's lips pressed against his. 

Buck couldn't suppress the whimper that escaped him to feel Tommy's stubbled jaw against his again. 

This time he did not hesitate to grab onto Tommy's shoulder the way he'd wanted to the last time. He moaned as he felt the solid muscle under his hand. Well, almost. His arms circled Tommy, sliding under his hoodie, relishing in the power of Tommy's back muscles, even as Tommy's hands slid into his hair, holding him in place. 

"Is that what you had in mind?" Tommy asked when he finally pulled back a few inches. 

Buck met Tommy's eyes, fingers flexing against Tommy's back. "Y-yeah, that's a good start."

Buck forced himself to relinquish his hold on Tommy to slide his hands around to Tommy's chest, but he didn't let himself linger there. He grabbed the edges of Tommy's hoodie and pushed it off his shoulders and down his arms, letting it drop to the ground behind them. Then he boldly grasped Tommy's ass. Tommy merely smirked at him.

"We're not having sex today," Tommy said, his fingers going back to toying with Buck's hair.

"That's good, because I'm not quite ready for that," Buck said.

"It's okay if you never are," Tommy quickly said.

Buck smirked. "Oh, it won't be my first time having anal sex, a few of my exes liked to peg me."

Tommy blinked at the easy confession. "And you enjoyed it?" Tommy checked.

"Oh, yeah," Buck agreed, his voice deepening.

The hunger returned to Tommy's eyes. "That is very good to know."

"I thought it might be," Buck said. Dropping his eyes to Tommy's mouth again, he asked, "When does your shift start?"

Tommy pulled an arm back to look at his watch. "I have to be there in three hours."

"Wanna make out on my couch until you have to go?" Buck innocently suggested.

"Sounds perfect to me," Tommy agreed.

Buck led Tommy to the couch, gestured for him to sit, then slid onto his lap as his mouth found Tommy's. 

After a few minutes, Tommy pushed Buck back a bit. "Hang on one sec," he said, reaching for his pocket and pulling out his phone. He set an alarm and tossed the phone on the cushion next to him. "Okay, go."

Buck was grinning as their mouths crashed together again. And again.

And again.

Until the alarm startled them apart, both somewhat dazed and flushed, lips swollen. 

"Are you as hard as I am?" Buck found himself asking. 

"Yes, but there's no time to do anything about that now," he said.

Tommy braced his hands on Buck's hips and pushed him to stand, ignoring the evidence of Buck's arousal at eye level until he was able to stand himself. 

"You sure you don't want me to help with that before you have to go?" Buck offered, hands reaching out.

Tommy stepped back out of reach. "As much as I'd love that, I've got to go."

Buck pouted as he followed Tommy to the door. Petulantly, he said, "If you're sure."

"Maybe next time," Tommy said, leaning in for one last peck on Buck's lips. 

Buck was all smiles again. "Until next time, then. Have a good shift."

"Thanks. We'll talk soon," Tommy promised. 

Buck leaned in for another kiss. "We'll do more of that soon, too."

"Damn straight we will," Tommy growled and wrenched the door open before he could fall back into temptation. 

Buck laughed as he closed the door behind Tommy and collapsed against it. Happier than he'd been in a very long time.

The End

[book-girl4evaaa]

cast the moots in dear evan hansen!

I've been waiting a while to do this, but this is awesome! Thank you for this ask!

Ok let's do this! I'll use the descriptions from Wikipedia because they're pretty good!

Let's do this!

First of for ensemble: @thatrandomlemononyourcounter1 @auroraofthesun1 @fangirlghost-19 @fish-ofishial123 @myfairkatiecat just because I don't know how much you like musicals but I think you'd have fun :)

1. @ace-of-pussy / @wants-to-marry-sirius-black as....

Jared Kleinman – Evan's droll and sarcastic friend. He helps Evan and Alana found The Connor Project.

Because there is the main funny character in the musical and I think you'd be able to sell that. And you would both boss the song

2. @the-slowest-turtle as...

Alana Beck – Evan's earnest but melodramatic classmate. She is constantly looking for academic and extracurricular activities to boost her collegiate chances.

Because you would absolutely boss that song, and because I feel like you might have fun playing her

3. @im-on-crack-send-help as...

Larry Murphy – Connor and Zoe's busy and distant father.

Because I feel like you would want a role, but not too big

4. @eddie-spagetthi as...

Cynthia Murphy – Connor and Zoe's stay-at-home mother. She is constantly trying to keep her fragile family from falling apart but is often unsuccessful.

I don't know why, but I feel like you would really slay this

5. @dafantasyqueen / @discoveredreality as...

Zoe Murphy – Connor's younger sister and Evan's longtime crush. She was never close to Connor, even hated him and thought he was a monster, but wishes she had known him better and turns to Evan after he lies and says he was friends with Connor.

Both of you would boss requiem for sure! And I can just imagine you as her

6. @justalunaticfangirl as...

Connor Murphy – A classmate of Evan and high school senior who, like Evan, is also a social outcast with no friends, and a frequent drug user, getting high to cope with his aggressive and violent tendencies. Connor eventually takes his own life during Act 1. His ghost appears in Evan's mind throughout the rest of the musical

Because I know you're a theatre kid, so I think you'd be able to play this role properly. As well as serve in sincerely me

7. @loife1m as...

Heidi Hansen – Evan's mother, a nurse's aide who attends paralegal school at night, often leaving Evan on his own as a result

Because you would just slay. Also, you are technically an aunt so...

And finally, playing Even Hansen, the titular role, "A high school senior with social anxiety. He is assigned by his therapist to write letters to himself about why each day will be good, which becomes the catalyst for the plot of the story (hence the name, Dear Evan Hansen" the protagonist we have.....

@paloma-ascends-into-hellfire !

*cheers* WHOOOOOO!

She's just amazing guys.

And that's the cast!!!!!!!!!!

Also all the descriptions are of Wikipedia don't sue me

[lilmeowchow]

MY TWILIGHT FANCAST!!!

(Btw all actors were chosen while keeping their younger selves in mind)

Michelle Trachtenberg as Bella Swan

This is basically how I've always pictured Bella, minus the blue eyes. She's got the full lips, heart-shaped face, and super pale skin (you can't really tell in this photo but she's as white as a ghost).

Cillian Murphy as Edward Cullen

What do you want me to say? Imagining Edward as Cillian Murphy isn't the most hilarious shit ever? Cause it is. I think what really gets me is that nothing about how Edward is described goes against the idea that he's a Cillian Murphy lookalike (except his green eyes). Don't care if it's silly, it's MY silly little rabbit. If you don't like having fun then I GUESS...

Jeff Ward as Edward Cullen

Are you happy now?

Eddie Spears as Jacob Black

He could turn up the bitchiness to 11 and I'd love every minute of it. His annoyed expressions would be great for Jacob Black. He also has a large frame and would be able to become big like Jacob did. Really fun actor to watch.

Sarah Gadon as Rosalie Hale

While she isn't very tall, she has the elegant and untouchable look I've always imagined Rosalie to have. She's undoubtedly beautiful and glamorous in a more subtle way than people usually expect when they picture Rosalie.

Tom Welling as Emmett Cullen

I think he's a great fit for Emmett. It's said that Emmett has a boyish face but a muscular body and that's literally what Tom Welling is. He's surprising super buff, like he has massive gains, but still has a youthful face. I even think he'd do a good job at portraying Emmett's personality.

Rachel Leigh Cook as Alice Cullen

Whenever I think of girls with big eyes, I think of Rachel Leigh Cook. I don't think that young Winona Ryder is a bad fit but I've always seen her as more of a tomboy while Cook looks very cutesy even when she had a pixie cut. I also see Cook as a better fit for the energy Alice has. She's really small too which helps.

Alex Pettyfer as Jasper Hale

The main reason I chose him is because he fits the two things I think of when I think of Jasper, good looking and unapproachable. There's a lot of young handsome blond actors but not all of them call pull off the RBF required to play Jasper. He doesn't really have that hardened by war look but he does what he can.

Brittany Murphy as Esme Cullen

This one is a little crazy but hear me out. I think that Brittany could bring a lot of Esme's character that we don't really see to the surface. Esme is borderline unhinged (shes an immortal being and spends her time as a housewife making food no one will ever eat) and seems like the type of woman who's soft and warm hearted but has a bit of a depressing air to her. Brittany could portray this special flavor of despondent very well. I almost didn't choose her because it's suggested that Esme basically has chubby cheeks but Brittany's face is also heart shaped so yolo.

Jude Law as Carlisle Cullen

I've always imagined that Carlisle is the kind of guy who looks older than he actually is. When he pretends he's in his thirties it's still a stretch cause he looks like he could be 27 max but it's not as shocking as if he was a 23 year old with baby face. Jude Law is a pretty handsome guy and I do imagine he would distract nurses at the hospital if he were a doctor. I also think he's handsome enough to be "better looking than any moviestar" Bella has ever seen. Jude Law is an amazing actor and would do a great job too I just know it.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Murphy's 500 Followers Celebration!!

masterlist.

in honour of this very exciting milestone, I thought I'd have a little celebration. i'm going to be writing short drabbles of your choosing!! i've created a prompt list, but I am absolutely encouraging your own ideas x

how to request -

pick a category - fluff, angst or smut

pick a character - there is a list below, but I am open to more suggestions!!

pick a dialogue prompt and/or a scenario prompt - there is a list below - feel free to choose multiple!!

then, send it in to me!! use the button at the top of my page, or request here !!

I'm gonna start writing next week, on 22/04. maybe earlier if I have the time. feel free to request multiple drabbles- the more I get sent, the more fun we'll have!!

Categories -

☀️ Fluff

🌧️ Angst

🔥 Smut

Characters -

Top Gun Maverick

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia

Robert "Bob" Floyd

✦

The Last of Us

Joel Miller

Tommy Miller

✦

Marvel

Steve Rogers

Bucky Barnes

Stucky

Sam Wilson

Matt Murdock

Frank Castle

✦

Succession

Stewy Hosseini

Kendall Roy

✦

Triple Frontier

Will Miller

Frankie Morales

Benny Miller

Santiago Garcia

✦

Narcos

Javier Peña

Steve Murphy

Colonel Carrillo

✦

The Bear

Carmen Berzatto

✦

Sons of Anarchy

Jax Teller

✦

9-1-1

Eddie Diaz

Evan Buckley

✦

Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid

Luke Alvez

Derek Morgan

✦

Dialogue Prompts -

1. "You love me?"

2. "Don't go on that date."

3. "Will you let me cut your hair?"

4. "Marry me."

5. "It's always been you."

6. "You're my best friend."

7. "You were my first love."

8. "I had a dream about you."

9. "I saw this and it reminded me of you."

10. "I have something to tell you."

11. "I thought you hated me."

12. "Is that all you got?"

13. "In your dreams."

14. "I don't deserve you."

15. "Talk to me."

16. "Is that my shirt?"

17. "I would choose you over anyone."

18. "You look so pretty like this."

19. "Most beautiful sound I've ever heard."

20. "You're killing me." / "You're gonna be the death of me."

21. "Just like that."

22. "Use your words."

23. "Good girl." / "Perfect girl."

24. "You like it when I'm mean to you?"

25. "Let's get out of here."

26. "You don't want them to hear, do you?"

27. "I need you."

28. "Let me see those eyes." / "Keep your eyes on me."

29. "Tell me what you want."

30. "I can't get enough of you."

31. "Wanted this for so long."

32. "Can I touch you?"

33. "Been thinking about you all day."

34. "You look so pretty on your knees."

35. "Better than I ever imagined."

36. "Let him watch."

37. "Let me hear you."

38. "Tell me you're mine."

39. "I'm yours."

40. "I love you."

41. "Don't you dare walk away from me."

42. "I can't do this anymore."

43. "You don't deserve me." / "I deserve better."

44. "Was any of this even real?"

45. "How stupid do you think I am?"

46. "Please don't leave me."

47. "I wish you were here."

48. "Do not raise your voice at me."

49. "Stay. Please."

50. "Don't tell me to calm down."

Scenario Prompts -

a. Kissing in the rain

b. First kiss

c. Electricity blackout

d. Camping

e. Heatwave

f. Childhood best friends

g. Grumpy / sunshine

h. Fake dating

i. Only one bed

j. Moving in together

k. Finding out you're pregnant

l. Catching eyes in a crowded room

m. Keeping the relationship a secret

n. Blind date

o. Reunion

p. Meet cute

q. Cheesy pick up lines

r. Exes

s. College friends / lovers

t. Roommates

u. Coming home drunk

v. Singing together / dancing together

w. An accidental kiss

x. A bet

y. Brothers best friend / best friends brother

z. Reading to each other

✦

these are just suggestions / jumping off points!! if you have an idea you'd like me to write a drabble for, just send it over. can't wait to see what you lovely people come up with. excited!! as always, so much love x

[ghosttotheparty]

love me softly p18

part 17

Eddie shoves an old worksheet between some books in his pocket messily, inhaling sharply when the paper cuts his finger. He sucks on the cut, furrowing his brows as he tries to sort his locker out one-handed, but he’s interrupted by a gentle rapping on his locker door.

He swings it shut a little bit, still sucking on the cut.

“Hi,” Steve says quietly.

He’s leaning against the locker next to Eddie’s, and Eddie’s eyes widen. He looks past Steve, around the hallway, finding Tommy and a few others hanging out next to a closed classroom door. Eddie’s hand falls from his mouth.

“Hi,” he says softly. “What… What are you doing?”

“Uhm.” Steve hesitates, and Eddie leans against his locker door. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says earnestly. When Eddie shakes his head and opens his mouth to speak, Steve interrupts with, “Just… Let me.”

“…Okay.”

Steve pauses, looking at Eddie intently, and he slides his tongue across his lip, and Eddie remembers suddenly that they’re in the hallway. That people can see them here, at Eddie’s locker, talking to each other.

“When my parents are in town, I…” Steve takes a breath. “I feel like shit. All the time. And I— I tend to take it out on other people, and I don’t— I don’t wanna. Especially to you.”

Eddie smiles softly, and his arms ache. He wants to hug him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve finishes quietly.

“I forgive you,” Eddie whispers. Steve smiles.

“They’re leaving on Monday,” Steve says after a moment. “That’s their plan right now.”

“That’s good,” Eddie says earnestly. “They say where they’re going?”

“Who gives a shit?” Steve says, shrugging, and Eddie laughs softly.

They stare at each other for another moment. Eddie wants to touch him. To hold his hand. To shove him against the lockers and kiss him so hard they both get headaches.

“Steve!”

Steve hesitates before he looks over his shoulder at his friends. One girl (Carol?) is giving him a look, waving her hand. Tommy looks uncomfortable.

Steve looks back at Eddie, hesitating.

“Can I… go to yours after school?”

“Of course,” Eddie whispers. “You can come over whenever you want, Stevie. You could move in without warning and we wouldn’t mind.”

Steve smiles. His eyes are shining.

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you later,” Eddie says softly, wishing he could lean over and kiss his cheek. Steve nods.

He reaches into the pocket of his jacket and then pulls out a folded piece of paper, suppressing a smile as he leans around the door of Eddie’s locker and tosses the paper in. It lands on top of his books.

Eddie looks at him, pressing his lips together and watching him step backward toward his friends. Steve winks.

Eddie looks at the paper as Steve walks away with his friends. He smiles when he sees Steve’s pretty handwriting.

i love you ♡

He leans into his locker and unfolds it, finding a messy sketch of two figures sitting side by side, one of them leaning against the other. It’s done in pen, and some of it is smudged, like Steve didn’t let it dry before adding to it.

He closes his eyes and waits there for a moment, just breathing, just pausing, because he’s aching. Because he wants to kiss Steve so badly he feels like he’s dying. But he can wait.

He carefully smooths the drawing in his backpack as he’s searching for his homework, Murphy standing next to his desk, arms crossed, head tilted.

“I swear to God,” Eddie says adamantly, rummaging through his bag. “I did it.”

“Watch your mouth, Mr Munson.”

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles.

“I’d like proof that you did it. In the form of the completed worksheet in my hand.”

“I’m looking.”

He huffs after a moment, grabbing his bag and dumping it on his desk.

“I know I did it,” he insists. Someone snickers at the front of the class, but he can’t even bring himself to send them a glare, rummaging desperately through his notebooks and textbooks for it. “God—”

He cuts himself off.

When he can’t find it, he looks up at Murphy desperately.

“I know I did it,” he says again.

“Do you,” Murphy says dryly.

“Yes. Number seven was thirteen point four, and I know that because it took me like an hour to solve it.”

Someone snorts, and he suddenly wishes Murphy had waited until the end of class so he could have kept searching while everyone left, so no one could hear him admit how long it took him.

Murphy just looks at him. Eddie hates him.

“Come on, Mr Murphy,” he pleads.

“This is the third time, Eddie,” he says.

“I’ll bring it in tomorrow,” Eddie says. “I’ll come in before school starts, I swear.”

Murphy might as well roll his eyes.

“Please, Mr Murphy,” Eddie begs as Murphy stalks back to his desk. “Don’t do this to me.”

The other students are laughing, giggling to themselves as Eddie groans obnoxiously and drops his head to his desk. He doesn’t look up when he hears Murphy approach his desk and set a detention slip next to him.

“Clean up your desk. Stop being disruptive.”

Eddie sits up, staring at the pink slip of paper before he sighs heavily and starts sorting his notebooks. He checks that Steve’s drawing is still smooth.

“What, did you have plans tonight?” the boy next to him, James, teases quietly as Murphy starts writing on the chalkboard.

“Yeah,” Eddie grumbles, “actually, I did.”

“What plans?” James asks, and Eddie scoffs.

“What, are you a cop? Mind your business.” He looks up just to watch James’s face flush red as Eddie says, “Tell your mother we’ll have to reschedule.”

“Asshole.”

Eddie flips him off and turns back to his desk.

Steve catches his eye in the hallway as they’re all headed to lunch, and Eddie holds up the detention slip with two fingers. Steve suppresses a smile, saying something to Tommy, who glances at Eddie, and rolls his eyes, nodding.

“What’d you do?” Steve asks, leaning against the wall in front of Eddie.

“I was a fucking idiot,” Eddie says. Steve’s brows furrow. “I forgot a fucking worksheet, the one I spent hours on last night. Fucking pointless, because I left it behind, and Murphy doesn’t give a shit that I did it.”

“Eddie,” Steve says softly. Eddie sighs, leaning against the wall. Some students walk past them. Steve doesn’t even glance at them. “You’re not an idiot. You forgot your homework.”

Eddie sighs heavily, closing his eyes and turning to press his face against the wall.

“I have to go to detention today,” he says, groaning quietly. Steve laughs softly.

“That’s okay.”

“But you were gonna…” He trails off, turning to press his cheek to the wall, looking at Steve, who tilts his head like a puppy.

“Look.” He speaks quietly, but Eddie can still hear him over the echoey clammer of the hallway. “I’ll hang out with Tommy for a while. Finish your homework in detention. And then you don’t have to do any homework while I’m over.”

Eddie exhales, his eyes flicking across Steve’s face, from his eyes to his lips and back up. His whole body feels sore.

He groans quietly again, squeezing his eyes shut and face the wall.

“Love you,” he breathes.

He grins when he feels Steve’s finger poke his cheek, cutting his eyes over to him. Steve’s cheeks are pink, and he drops his hand.

“You too,” he says quietly.

It’s different when they touch at school. At home, Eddie’s or Steve’s, they’re always all over each other, holding each other close, leaning against each other, draped over each other, but in school, even the slightest brush of their fingers (or Steve’s finger jabbing Eddie in the face) feels so forbidden, so explicit and obvious and public, that it feels electric.

Steve must feel it too.

When Eddie’s face is back against the wall, hidden, Steve’s fingers brush the side of his hand. Eddie can feel flames engulf his whole arm. His fingers twitch to meet Steve’s, and they lace for just a second before they both pull their hands away.

“I’ll see you at yours?” Steve says quietly. Eddie nods, finally looking at him. “Make sure you finish your homework.”

“Yes, sir.”

Steve smiles, scrunching his nose in a way that makes Eddie want to kiss it. His cheeks flush.

“Alright, get outta here.”

He watches him go. His eyes catch on Tommy, who looks like he’s arguing with that girl Carol (Eddie asumes that’s her name), talking with his hands, exasperated. When Steve approaches, Carol glares up at him, tossing a hand up dismissively at Tommy before she leaves.

Eddie watches, raising an eyebrow, and Steve sighs heavily, watching Carol go before he pats Tommy’s back reassuringly, muttering something that makes Tommy crack a smile.

Eddie doesn’t see them again until the end of the day, when he’s headed to the detention hall. Tommy is ranting to Steve passionately, and Steve is listening, but Eddie can’t hear him. When Steve’s eyes catch Eddie’s, his face lights up a little bit, and he blows him a small, subtle kiss. Eddie could swoon.

Eddie hates detention.

It’s too quiet. He can hear every single sound, every chair creaking, every pencil scratching, every cough and yawn and sigh. He works slowly through his homework, singing Shoot to Thrill in his head and bobbing his head in time with it, wishing he was working at home so he could be wandering back and forth in the living room while he works. He kicks his legs under the table trying to avoid touching the floor so the rubber soles of his shoes don’t scuff it loudly.

He manages to finish everything except his statistics homework. (Maybe he’ll ask Tommy for help with it tomorrow.)

Wayne is in the living room when he gets home. He’s watching a baseball game, sipping at tea from his favourite mug (a second-hand University of Indianapolis mug he’s had since before Eddie moved in with him).

“I don’t suppose you’re any good at statistics,” Eddie says as he’s kicking his shoes off, stumbling backwards into the kitchen and reaching for a glass.

“I don’t watch baseball for the numbers.”

Eddie pauses as he fills the glass with water from the sink.

“That is the gayest thing I’ve every heard you say.”

A laugh bursts out of Wayne, and Eddie grins while he downs the water.

“What’s going on with statistics?” he asks as Eddie joins him on the sofa, laying his head on Wayne’s leg.

“Murphy is ass at teaching, and it takes me like an hour to solve one question.”

“You got any friends that could help?” Wayne asks, his voice echoing in his mug.

“Probably Tommy.”

“He in Hellfire?”

Eddie scoffs, smiling at the ceiling.

“No, he’s Steve’s best friend.”

“Ah.”

When sets his arm over Eddie’s face obnoxiously, and Eddie closes his eyes.

“I will bite you,” he says, his voice muffled by Wayne’s shirt.

“Don’t.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. He waits there for a while, listening to the crackly voice of the commentator from the television, until there’s a knock at the door. Eddie scrambles up, shoving Wayne’s arm away and stumbling as he heads to swing the door open.

“Hey,” he says, smiling when his eyes meet Steve’s, and he steps back, letting Steve in and shutting the door. Steve doesn’t say anything, instead leaning in and pressing a lingering kiss to Eddie’s lips. His hand slides over Eddie’s neck, into his hair, and Eddie sighs, his shoulders falling as he kisses him back. Steve presses one more chaste kiss to his mouth before he pulls away and looks at him.

“Hi,” he says softly.

“Hi, Steve,” Wayne says from the sofa, and Steve startled violently, jumping with a loud “Oh my god.”

“Hi,” Steve says breathlessly, his cheeks bright red, and he lets go of Eddie, rubbing his face as he looks at Wayne, who’s watching the game again, smiling. “Sorry.”

“‘S fine,” Wayne says dismissively, waving a hand, sipping his tea. “You kiss your boy all you want.”

Steve looks at Eddie, bashful, blushing, rubbing the back of his neck, and Wayne looks over again.

“How’re you?” he says, and Steve looks back at him. Eddie can practically see the armour of King Steve fall away right in front of him.

“My parents are in town,” Steve says, grabbing the strap of his backpack that’s hanging from one shoulder, his other hand reaching for Eddie’s. “I don’t like them very much.”

Wayne’s eyes flash with a concern that Eddie recognizes, that makes Eddie’s own chest ache, and he frowns.

“You stay here as long as you need,” he says, demanding it gently.

Steve cracks a weak smile before he looks at Eddie, his hand squeezing Eddie’s so gently it’s like he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it.

“Uh, I told my parents I’m spending the night at Tommy’s,” he says says hesitantly. “If that’s okay?” he adds nervously, looking at Wayne, who seems to understand that Tommy’s is code for home.

“‘Course,” Wayne says. “If you both get to school on time tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Steve says, smiling, looking back at Eddie.

“Did you tell Tommy?” Eddie teases, and Steve makes a face with a sassy, “Yes.”

“Did you finish your homework?” Steve asks in the same tone, raising his eyebrows when Eddie hesitates.

“Everything except stats,” Eddie says. “I was gonna ask Tommy for help tomorrow.”

“Okay, that’s fine.”

He says it too softly. It goes with whatever is behind his eyes right now, something that Eddie can’t really read. (He hopes he’ll learn to someday.) Eddie squeezes his hand. Steve squeezes back.

Eddie tugs at his hand, stepping backward down the hall.

“We’re going to my room,” he tells Wayne.

“I’m going to work,” Wayne says, draining his mug.

Steve’s face flushes pink, and he turns to face Wayne, letting Eddie drag him away.

“Bye, Mr Munson.”

“Don’t call me that!” Wayne calls back, sounding horrified, but Eddie can hear the smile in his voice.

“Love you!” Eddie shouts before he closes the door and looks at Steve, who’s smiling at him, their fingers tangled. “Hey,” he says softly.

“Hi,” Steve says quietly, dropping his bag to the floor. That thing is still behind his eyes, shining dimly like an old lightbulb, and Eddie’s heart twists, and he tugs at Steve’s hand. Steve falls forward against him easily as the front door of the trailer shuts, and he buries his face in Eddie’s neck, holding him tightly. Eddie’s wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him so close they’re pressed completely together.

Steve inhales deeply, slowly, before he exhales against Eddie’s neck.

And then he does it again, taking a slow deep breath, and Eddie opens his eyes, running a hand up Steve’s spine. He furrows his brows when Steve takes another deep breath, slow and intentional.

“C’mere,” Eddie says softly, moving a hand to touch Steve’s cheek, shifting to press their foreheads together. “I got you.”

Steve sighs shakily, his fingers pressing into Eddie’s hair, holding the back of his head.

Eddie closes his eyes again, waiting.

When Steve is breathing normally, Eddie says, “Tell me.”

Steve sighs, combing through Eddie’s hair gently.

“I hate them.”

Eddie nods, gently untucking Steve’s shirt and putting a hand under it so his rings slide over Steve’s warm skin.

“They suck the life out of everything,” Steve says softly, his breath on Eddie’s face. “I mean…” He swallows, taking a breath. “I swear everything looks greyer when they’re around. And I…”

Eddie prompts his with a gentle nudge against his nose. Steve kisses him softly before speaking again.

“I feel like shit. But not even, like… Like normal… shit. Not like— like sad or irritable or— I just…”

He exhales. Eddie runs his hand up his spine again, his other hand set firmly on the small of his back.

“They suck the life out of me too,” Steve says softly. “I’m so fucking empty, Eddie, there’s nothing inside of me.”

Eddie lifts his head, looking at him as his heart splits a little bit, like the seams are too worn, too thin. And Steve looks back, his eyes distraught, like he knows exactly what Eddie’s feeling. Like he feels bad for it.

Eddie pulls a hand away from his back and manoeuvres it under Steve’s arm to press it to his chest, looking down. Steve’s breath catches in his throat, and he looks at Eddie curiously, waiting until Eddie speaks quietly, almost whispering.

“Can feel your heart beating.”

He looks into Steve’s eyes. Steve’s lip quivers.

“You’re not empty, Stevie,” Eddie murmurs. “You got… Like. A whole fucking universe in your chest.” He presses his hand against his chest more firmly, and Steve’s eyes flutter shut. “And you got all these secret galleries inside your skull,” Eddie adds softly, rising to his tiptoes and lifting his chin to kiss Steve’s forehead. “No one’s seen ‘em yet.”

Steve’s hands tighten on his hair and he pulls him into a hard kiss without opening his eyes. His lips don’t land square on Eddie’s, but neither of them really care.

Eddie’s hand slides up to Steve’s neck, holding him tenderly. He can feel his pulse beneath his skin.

He tilts his head as Steve kisses him deeper, slower, holding Eddie’s head like he’s holding him in place, and Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, touching Steve’s cheek. He’s always so warm.

“God,” Steve gasps when they part. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Eddie whispers.

He opens his eyes and looks at Steve, touching his cheek, tracing his moles and looking at his shining eyes.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Eddie breathes. “My pretty boy.”

Steve smiles and tucks his face back into Eddie’s neck with a small groan. Eddie hugs him again, laughing softly and swaying as Steve relaxes against him him, heavy and boneless, stepping side to side.

“We gonna dance again?” Eddie asks, smiling.

“Don’t have Toto,” Steve mumbles into his neck.

“Mm. Could turn on some Anthrax.”

Steve laughs softly, kissing his neck.

“You wanna hang your drawing up on your wall?”

“My wall?”

“Mhmm.”

Steve lifts his head.

“Okay.” He’s smiling.

He keeps smiling as Eddie gets the drawing for him, smooths out the creases Steve folded into it, and hands it to him with a thumbtack, and he keeps smiling as he pins it under a colourful drawing he did a while ago of a window Eddie recognized from Ms Malcolm’s classroom, the lines paper covered in scribbly green and blue highlighter and ballpoint pen.

Steve is still smiling when he steps away from the wall, looking almost proud, and it occurs to Eddie that Steve’s never seen his art up on a wall, displayed, unhidden.

Eddie tackles him, wrapping his arms around his waist and lifting him up with a loud noise as Steve squeals Eddie’s name, kicking.

He’s clutching at Eddie’s forearms, laughing and screaming, and Eddie manages to toss him onto the bed, jumping on after him and trying to hold his wriggling body down. But Steve is an athlete, which Eddie obviously never forgets, and he overpowers Eddie after he giggles for another minute.

Steve pins him down, straddling his waist and gripping his wrists, and Eddie finally stops fighting after seeing his face, flushed and beaming so brightly Eddie doesn’t think they even need the light on. His hair is tousled, wild and falling around his face as he leans over Eddie, panting.

“I win,” he says breathlessly.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes, chest rising and falling. “I let you.”

“Oh, did you?” Steve laughs, sliding his hands into Eddie’s and lacing their fingers, pressing Eddie’s hands into the mattress.

“Mhmm.”

Steve giggles again, leaning close enough that their noses brush, and Eddie closes his eyes, waiting until Steve kisses him.

God, he loves kissing Steve. He’s always so soft, always playing with Eddie’s hair gently and tracing lines over the side of his neck (which always tickles in the best way), always making these sweet, sweet sounds.

When they finally part, Eddie has rolled on top of him, a hand pressed under his shirt to press to his warm skin. Steve’s fingers are holding Eddie’s hair out of the way.

Their lips are shining and bitten red, their cheeks flushed, and Eddie can’t stop smiling.

“So anyway, how was your day?” he says, and Steve bursts into laughter.

He talks to Eddie as Eddie pulls him out of bed and to the kitchen, and he leans against the laundry machine as Eddie rummages through the fridge for leftovers. When Eddie gives Steve a plate, the food steaming hot, Steve says, “Thank you, baby,” softly, and Eddie suddenly realises how badly he wants to marry him. To have this every day, this domestic bliss. To come home from work and make dinner while they tell each other about their day.

They eat together right there in the kitchen, talking and laughing and teasing, and Eddie falls in love with him all over again. His hair is still messy, his shirt untucked and wrinkled, and he looks so… at ease. Comfortable in Eddie’s kitchen, leaning against the laundry machine with his ankles crossed. (Eddie's noticed he leans a lot. He likes it.)

They end up laying in bed side by side later, Steve’s legs sprawled over Eddie’s. They’re both looking at the ceiling, and Steve is playing with Eddie’s hands, tracing his veins, his rings, his nails. He tells Eddie about his day, about some kids fucking around in class and almost getting everyone extra homework, about him and Tommy doing their homework together after school, about Tommy’s obnoxious I’m so bo-o-ored! that he repeated about every five minutes.

Eddie tugs his hand over a few times as he talks, just to kiss his knuckles.

After a while Steve’s voice falls quieter, slower, softer, and he shifts to face Eddie, sliding his hand to hold onto his arm. He squeezes gently, sighing.

Eddie stops talking. He’s looking at the ceiling, smiling when Steve’s fingers tighten around his arm. He can hear Steve breathing, and he can hear him fall asleep. His breathes become heavy, slow and even and steady, and Eddie smiles before he rolls his head to look at him.

Steve’s sleeping face is different from his resting face. It’s… calmer. He looks almost happy when he’s asleep, content. Light and relaxed, faint traces of a smile gracing his beautiful face.

Eddie gazes at him.

The sun is almost down outside, and Eddie strains to see him after a while, so he closes his eyes.

It’s almost pitch dark when he wakes up, but he isn’t really awake. He’s uncomfortable, holding onto Steve but still wearing his jeans and rings. There’s a chain digging into his leg.

He inhales deeply, shifting and furrowing his brows before he cracks his eyes open. The moonlight is silver, dim, and he can just barely see. Steve shifts at the same time, groaning quietly, and Eddie watches as he does the same, squeezing his eyes shut and squinting.

Silently, they detach from one another, closing their eyes again as they reach down and unbutton and unzip their jeans, pushing them down and kicking them off the bed. Eddie rolls over and blindly pulls off his rings, setting them on his bedside table. When he rolls back over he opens his eyes weakly and finds Steve tugging his shirt over his head, so he does the same. Steve pulls the blankets up and waits until Eddie tosses the shirt away.

“C’mere,” Eddie says, his voice rough, laying back down. Steve moves closer, laying across Eddie’s chest and sighing as Eddie takes the blanket, draping it over their bodies. He wraps his arms around Steve and pulls him closer. “Love you,” he mumbles.

Steve’s legs twine with his under the blankets, and Eddie is half asleep. Every touch feels muffled and quiet, Steve’s skin soft on Eddie’s.

Steve hums weakly and nuzzles into his neck.

part 19 read the whole thing on ao3

tagging @thehumblefigtree <3 comment to be tagged in part 19 :)

[paisholotus]

Judging by the cover/A friend is Coming

Season one

-Narrative-

khadijah walks into her office towards her desk, turns to check on Synclaire, but stops when the phone rings. Synclaire answers the phone with the most horrible British accent, "Hello, this is Flava Magazine. How can I help you, Love?" Synclaire asks cheerfully.

Khadijah scrunches up her face, "Synclaire, what are you doing?" Synclaire covers the end of the phone and whispers, "I'm making them think we're international." Khadijah bended down and said, "make them think we need some money." Bending back up, taking papers from off the desk. "And keep in mind, this is a grassroots publication." She said sternly. Synclaire nodded, returning back to the phone. "Got it. Yo, yo, yo! How could I hook you up, G?" Synclaire yelled through the phone.

Khadijah shakes her and looks to the elevator when no other than Regine, walking out. "Hello, ladies. I've got good news, and I couldn't wait till you got home to rub your noses in it." She said, smiling at Khadijah.

Khadijah rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "Well, if it isn't her royal heinie." Regine at the window turns around and smirks, "Look outside. What is Long, Black, and at the curb?" She said, pointing at the window. "I ain't touching." Khadijah said, walking back to her desk. Regine walks over as Synclaire runs to the window to be nosey. "Honey, it's a stretch limo." Regine said. "Well, good, it'll go with your stretchmarks." Khadijah said teasingly.

Regine scoffs, taking a deep breath side, eyeing khadijah. Synclaire walks up to the two, putting both arms on their shoulders. "Is it me, or do I sense a little tension here?" She asks. Regine and Khadijah look at Synclaire and roll their eyes. "Now, I know your Aries rising is constantly conflicting with her Taurus Moon, but can't we all get along?" She asked them nicely. Regine rolled her eyes again and huffed. "Well, look, you all can do whatever you like. I just came by to tell you that the limo outside happens to belong to my new boyfriend, Brad." She said, smiling dreamily.

Khadijah stood up, pushing Regine to the elevator, "If we didn't have so much work to do here, we'd love to hear more about your latest Canine Catch." She said, with a snide attitude.

Regine sits on Synclaire's desk, "Oh, would you?" She said. Patting khadijah on the arm. "Well, Brad and I were on our way to lunch, but we never made it out of the limo." She said, smirking. Synclaire gave her a dopey smile, while khadijah put her hand on her hip, not looking surprised. "He ate caviar from my cleavage, and we drank champagne from my shoe--ah!" Throwing her head back, laughing. "With them big old feet of yours, y'all must have been crazy drunk." Khadijah remarked, looking down at Regine's feet.

Regine waved her off and continued with her story. "I'm telling you, Brad, now, he could be the one. He is fine, educated, and wealthy. And has a butt that's dented on the sides, with the promise of power." Regine said. Fanning herself, giving the two women full imagery.

"We'll see how long this lasts." Khadijah said, shaking her head. Walking again to her desk. Regine frowned and got off the desk, walking to khadijah. "Wait a minute. What is that supposed to mean?" She asked, crossing her arms. Khadijah swung around, giving Regine a pointed look. "Men dump you like Eddie Murphy albums." Offended Regine looks away from Khadijah. "Look, Regine, if you want to have a lasting relationship, you need to start looking beyond man's wallet." She said, seriously.

"Eddie Murphy makes albums?" Synclaire asked, confused. Khadijah and Regine looked Synclaire with 'really' faces. "Synclaire, do your job, please." Khadijah told her. Synclaire nodded, going back to putting people on hold and reading her magazine. Khadijah snatched the magazine and threw it on her desk, causing Synclaire to pout.

Returning back to their conversation, Regine again gives khadijah an offended look. "Wait, are you saying I'm shallow?" Khadijah pretends to think for a second and eagerly nods. "As a kiddy pool." Regine makes an exaggerated gasp. "Mmct." She said, walking towards the elevator.

"I will see you at home, Synclaire. And by to you long neck Dinosaur." She said. Letting out her loud signature laughs, that could be heard from down the street.

Khadijah rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Going back to her papers, when the phone rings. "FlavaMagazine. Oh, hi, mommy." Khadijah said, smiling. Khadijah scrunches up her face in confusion, "who?" She asked. Khadijah smiled and signed, "You know ion like surprises." Khadijah told her. "Alright, I'll talk to you later, Ma, love you." She hung up the phone looking towards Synclaire.

"My mom said there was someone coming to visit. She said it was one of my best friends. But I wouldn't tell you because it's a surprise." Synclaire frowned in confusion, playing with a hair pink haired troll.

"Who do you think it is?" Synclaire asked. Khadijah shrugged, grabbing her bag and coat, "I don't know. But I know I'm hungry. Let's go." Synclaire rushed out the chair, grabbing her things, "don't have to tell me twice."

[thisselflovecamebacktome]

How’s the 911 of it all going

It's going well. I've been binging (because I do not know how to watch a show normally rip) for most of yesterday and today and just finished 2x10. First impressions are as follows:

Abby was my favourite and the most relatable (as someone who is also a carer to their mother) character of season 1 and I miss her dearly. Idk if this is unpopular but I am surprised (derogatory) that the Abby/Buck story gone on as long as it has. I think it started well as a 'they were both looking for something that the other encompassed in theory but not necessarily looking for each other in reality' story but I really thought that after a bit it was going to end up with them realising they worked better as friends and then having Abby leave for her adventure.

Athena is the character that has grown most on me. While obviously it was rough for her and I sympathise with that, it took a bit to get over feeling like she was making Michael's coming out about herself while trying to say that it was for the family, even long after the children had accepted it. But that is coming from a spot where myself and a lot of queer people I know had our coming out either delayed or otherwise altered by others making it about themselves so I understand that that is in part a me problem. Her trying to solve all of the cold cases because of that little girl that went missing when she was a child is so interesting and I imagine that will come back later in the series which I'm excited for.

On the note of Athena and Michael, I understand that Bobby is a main character but I do wish they'd put as much, or at least more, focus on Michael's relationship. Like even with the homecoming photos, they got Michael's partner to take the photo so Bobby could be in it rather than someone else so they both could be.

I was surprised Eddie didn't show up until season 2. It's also lowkey hilarious that he acted like he had an 'affair' with his wife. Like I get that they were estranged but yeah it was just funny. Overall I think he's my favourite male character and I love the family dynamic between him, his aunt, his grandmother and Christopher.

It was also hilarious that I thought we were getting a rivals/enemies to lovers story for all of about 2 seconds with Buck/Eddie before Buck was p much like "actually no I am in love with this man" (Maddie saying "does this mancrush mean that you're over Abby?" took me out because older sisters always know lmao).

I want to wrap Maddie up in a bubble and never let anyone touch her again. Like I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable but as someone who came from a background of domestic violence and has had to escape another (friendship) situation of abuse, god she is so relatable and I just love her. Like I would go to war for any of these characters but especially her.

As a whole, I was wary about starting this show knowing that it was a Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuk project because the last thing I watched of theirs was Glee and well... let's just leave it with we all know how off the rails that went. But so far this feels fairly stable. I was surprised to find as a whole it wasn't one fire/crime/emergency of the week but typically 3. I think this has its pros and cons and admittedly I do think it works best when they all intertwine like the earthquake episode did, but it's something different and I applaud them for that. I also feel like everything has good setup, even the 'little' things. Like sure at face value May saying "Everyone at school will know" when Michael comes out can be seen as her making it about herself and being worried about the unrealised potential of bullying but when you find out that it's just another thing she can be bullied over and that the bullying already was that bad, it makes total sense that that's where mind went.

Anyway this has become super long but the TLDR is that I'm enjoying it and interested in where it could go.

[younganonymus]

29,30,31,32

3, 5, 6, 7, 11, 12, 25, 29, 30, 31, 32, 46, 72, 78, 90, 91?

3, One activity I hate: being around my father, "talking" with him.

5, Disgusting meal: everything with spinach or cooked vegetables in general. I prefer fruits and vegetables raw much more.

6, idols of mine: Jackie Chan, Vin Diesel as real life people

7, person I really hate: my father, one ex-girlfriend

11: Afraid of might not be the correct word for it, but I do not like ants. They are chill as long as they stay away from me. 0,0

12, people I hate: stubborn, narcotic, self-loving or overly self-esteemed people. Like no matter how much you scientifically know and proof them wrong, they do not care about you or your opinion. You may have spent your whole life doing nothing but this one thing and they still tell you you have no idea.

25, dances I know or want to know: by far I am not an expert, but I enjoy Tango, Salsa, line dance and classic (like Waltzer for example). And of course would love to have real lessons in it!!! (Hopefully not alone though…)

29, good childhood memory: camping iutside, getting awake by the warmth of sunlight on your face, staying up late near a camp fire, … I would love to have more of these…

30, happy with my life: HAHAHAHAHA, ABSOLUTELY not!!!!! I literally tried to end it last weekend and still somehow made it through the night, not walking straight or even in a line for two days.

31, something I regret/wish I had done different: Punching that knife through my throat/Shutting of my phone on new year’s eve from 2017 tp 2018. Literally ten seconds would have made a BIG difference, but nope, here I still am… -_-

32, seven years ago did I picture my life being like this: i did not really thought it would be that bad, but I am also not surprised. So yes, I knew my life would be shitty, but damn was I a fool…

33, from now in seven years: HOPEFULLY, hopefully dead long ago, or but more unrealistic, finally settled in life. (solid work, good/enough income, happy wife, happy kids, …)

34, yes, I am thankful for pretty every experience I made. Of course some painful less would not be bad but after all those are the moments that form us the most. How could we be thankful for food on our plate if not knowing what hunger feels like?

35, any ability to gain and one to tribute: reading minds would help a LOT but simultaneously would be manipulative, so I would love to be able to fly and give up the ability to speak, if that’s what it takes. (Just imagine the wonderful sceneries you can gasp on above or amongst the clouds, how many wonderful sunrises you could see above water, how beautiful the night sky is in different countries, …)

36, bad habit of mine: never shutting up. Too many times I have unwillingly told sad stories of mine just to avoid that awkward silence…

40, The movie “The haunted mansion” with Eddie Murphy left quite a mark on me, even though it is a good movie.

41, movie scenes with reflections in a dark setting, like in “The haunted mansion”, where a character looks up in a mirror and sees himself as a bloody, dead self or some other evil creatures.

42, childish behaviour of mine: the urge to try out playgrounds when passing by or balancing on small edges whenever possible.

46, I am ABSOLUTELY an animal person!!! I do not care what you think of me (as long as I don’t know you) as long as I can play with that big doggo or play around with that kitty or watch those bunnies hop around and around.

54, at school I was the one being joked about and untaken from primary school to the finals. (Although the last two years were much less bullying and outcasting.)

55, I do NOT like my hometown at all! Sure, it’s good living here and you get everywhere easily, but I prefer rural areas much more than metropolitan.

61, stand-alone movies or rows: I rarily watch movies but if, then most of times a whole collection in a row. Like Pirates of the Caribean or Lord of the rings, Star Wars, Hunger games, Rush Hour, … I may not watch one after another instantly, but still try to finish the series in a short time.

62, something afraid of telling a new girlfriend: my weird quirks/faults (which she would find out sooner or later anyway) and my weird kinks. (Nothing harmful but still weird.)

72, am I attractive in some way: Well, to be honest, many people (women and men) told me I have quite a sexy or athletic body, but that’s it I guess. I may be a lot funny, but stupid, open hearted yet mentally broken, caring but ugly, soooo… Maybe I am attractive for just the first glimpse???

78, when is a relationship official: As soon as you kiss one another frequently/regularly. Doesn’t even need to be the mouth, but Gentleman-like on the woman’s hand as a greeting and goodbye is pretty much solid proof one is interested and the other not neglecting.

79, I am absolutely and always honest, so do not mind asking me anything.

80, I HATE the way I look!!! I could be stronger, could be taller, skinnier/thinner, better face, better hair, …

81, three wishes: to finally be dead, (secret) and/or live the dream of my life (happy family of my own, own yard and house, few animals of our oen, …)

82, I ALWAYS wanted to have younger siblings to take care of, which lateron turned into having my own kids, yes.

90, IF that person has time and I KNOW it, I call them most-probably on my way there. But since apparently no one on this planet (amongst my generation and younger) seems to accept calls or even visits, I text people.

91, In my opinion you do not need a certain date or anniversary to celebrate your relationship. If you feel like going on a date together, ligthing the room with candles, prepare a lovely bathroom for her, sending her flowers, then do so! I hate it when people only focus on certain dates! Like why only call me on my birthday if you know I want to see you more often? Why acting like we love our family if we talk bad about each other through the whole year???

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | House of Wax (Collet-Serra, 2005)

Watching this in 2023, this feels very much like a blast from a the past, a snapshot of what the horror genre was like in the mid-2000s. At the time, you started to get the remakes of beloved classics, with the Platinum Dunes Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Zack Snyder's Dawn of the Dead having come out before this one. (I hated the former when I saw it years ago but consider the latter one of the better horror movies of the decade and an interesting Bush era document to boot.) I haven't seen the original House of Wax (but probably should as it stars Vincent Price) or Mystery of the Wax Museum which I understand originates some of the story ideas here (but probably should as it's directed by Michael Curtiz) and doubt this one has too much in common with the earlier films, but I suppose the name is a cheap enough way for the studio to milk more money out of an existing IP.

You also had the found footage boom more or less kicked off by The Blair Witch Project. This is not a found footage movie, but it does have sequences shot on camcorders, which are supposed to capture the characters having a good time, but have the effect of a last known photo, especially with the lo-fi image. There is also imagery here, like a hot wax needle contraption that a character gets strapped to, and the forcible restraining of a child to a rusty chair, that brings to mind the torture porn wave, but the movie is generally indebted to the resurgence in "mean" horror, with the work of Rob Zombie and Eli Roth and some of the more violent entries in the remake wave. For whatever reason I'd mistakenly assumed that this was rated PG-13, and was caught off guard by the gnarlier acts of violence: slashed tendon, lopped off finger, impaled head. And while I likely wouldn't have appreciated it at the time, I did find the jaundiced texture of the movie, which is probably easier to pull off when shooting on film with its tactility than with digital smoothness. And the wax figures that populate the movie lend to the atmosphere of decay and allow things to get nice and goopy when things start melting in the climax, although I should note that the wax figures of colour bear an unfortunate resemblance to C. Thomas Howell's character in Soul Man but that the wax figures of Caucasian descent sadly do not resemble Eddie Murphy in "White Like Me".

Anyway, I doubt this is anybody's favourite movie from the era, but I had a pretty good time. On top of the gruesome violence and the atmosphere, there are some pretty suspenseful sequences, particularly one where the heroine tries to evade detection in a theatre playing Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? I watched this the same night as Cabin Fever, and while both movies play on anxieties about backwoods folk in a very Bush era way, I appreciated how much more tolerable the characters were in this, even if the cast members all look like they're from a CW show. Elisha Cuthbert I'd known at the time as the girl from Popular Mechanics for Kids, and she's a perfectly capable horror heroine here. The guy from Supernatural (not the guy everybody likes, the other guy) is fine too. Maybe Chad Michael Murray is a bit bland, but not offensively so. Apparently he's doing geezer teasers now? If he's playing the geezers, he's likely grown his range.

And I remember this being heavily marketed on the basis of Paris Hilton's role, and people playing up how bad she's supposed to be. Maybe because I avoided engaging with anything she was in at the time (which sounds like it could have been hard given how popular her show was, but one should not underestimate how good I was at putting in zero effort to keep up with current pop culture, something which still holds for anything outside cinema) and thus bear little contempt toward her, but I thought she was perfectly adequate, and I appreciate that both she and the movie treat each other with a baseline of seriousness. There could have been much more obnoxious versions of the movie, where either she phones it in or the movie uses her as a punchline. Anyway, I think Ebert describes her performance best: "The early reviewers have been harsh with Miss Hilton ('so bad she steals the show,' says The Hollywood Reporter), but actually she is no better or worse than the typical Dead Post-Teenager, and does exactly what she is required to do in a movie like this, with all the skill, admittedly finite, that is required."

[formosusiniquis]

today is a new day to find you - ch 3

Steve Harrington is on his picnic bench.

“Oh good, you did stop by your locker.” It’s a sentence that luckily requires no comment since Eddie doesn’t know what he’d say anyway.

“Listen-”

“I haven’t figured out your schedule yet. It’s like everything I do to figure you out changes things. I tried taking notes, but,” He is laying flat on his back on the bench saying these batshit fucking statements to the sky. The wind rustles the trees as he blows a raspberry to punctuate his trailing thought. Maybe the wind and the sky have settled into something that suits the strange mood Harrington is setting.

“Are you stalking me, Harrington?” It doesn’t come out as a joke. It sounds just left of scared. He’s the teen in the horror movie about to realize the pretty boy isn’t a friend.

And Harrington laughs. A crack sounds in the woods, branches rustling, a deer with better sense taking off to safety. Fright. It makes the bubbling laughter all the more manic. Eddie knows manic. “Shit,” he says it on an exhale, struggling for breath. “I guess I am this time.”

This time, deja vu. He’s embarrassed and upset, screaming at Harrington in the hallway.

But Harrington hadn’t even been in Murphy’s class today, and Eddie’s homework had made it zipped up in his backpack all semester except today. A month of classes and no good will.

There’s probably bird shit on the benchseat Harrington is sprawled across. His gray rich boy jacket pillows his head and protects his perfect mane. Is this where he’s been all day? With legs spread, straddling either side of a seat he’s too long for. Waiting for… Waiting for Eddie Munson of all people?

“It’s not creepy,” he insists and really he must. Cause from where Eddie is standing -- five feet away, ready to make a quick getaway lest he get pinned to a tree with a comically long hunting knife; gasping for a last breath and looking for answers from a silent killer as a bloody title screen fades in -- it looks pretty creepy.

“You know what a time loop is, Munson?” he asks. The segue intriguing enough that Eddie creeps closer. The early fall dead, his fated brethren, crunch on the ground beneath him. There is no stealth to his approach. Harrington is a haunted thing, something not of this world and Eddie is…

Eddie is afraid. 

He is a coward by trade. He knows it’s far from desirable as traits go. But it’s what he is when the devil’s in the doorway. Eddie is a runner.

Harrington can sense him and Eddie is curious and afraid. So he approaches with uneasy feet; and, at that table with no one around but the wind and the trees and any critters brave enough to listen to Steve Harrington’s half mad cackle, he sits. As far as he can from what once was a boy he went to class with.

“Didn’t think Steeve Harrington would be a fan of sci-fi,” he lets his mouth drag out the name, lets himself relish in the feel of it. Maybe if he changes the shape enough it will all fit again.

“I’m full of surprises.”

“Well, I’m familiar with many a concept, your majesty; but why don’t you surprise me again and tell me what you think a time loop is.”

He can just make out Harrington’s face, just past the softening boundary of the weather worn table. He pulls a face at the sky, more disbelief than scorn, and continues to make no move to sit up. To face Eddie.

“It’s a loop of time, Munson. Thought you were into this shit. I know you aren’t a super senior because you’re dumb.”

The backhanded compliment catches him across the jaw. “Maybe I wanted your astute observations on the subject, Harrington. Someone should give you a chance to be more than all that hair.”

“You’ve got a real gift for being a dickhead, anyone ever tell you that?”

“I’ve heard something along the lines.”

The belabored sigh he gets in return is fitting a prize lapdog, “Here’s the thing inquiring minds wanna know,” he finally says, “you’re stuck because of antimatter or sunspots or cause a groundhog cast a magic spell-”

“A groundhog?” It sputters out in a laugh.

“That’s my personal guess, I couldn’t remember what you said last time.” He blows right past that particularly confusing statement into, “What are you going to do -- specifically -- none of that whatever I want shit.”

“Why is that shit?” The fall afternoon sun cuts through the canopy for just a second. Finding a break in the rain heavy clouds to lay a golden hand on Steve Harrington.

“In my experience, it’s a lot harder to do whatever you want than it looks.” The sun is smothered again, and the absence of the dappled gold leaves a gray faced kid behind.

Eddie can feel the splintery wood grain threatening to send slivers beneath his fingernails, it doesn’t stop the arrhythmic beat he taps the table with. What does Steve Harrington have to be sad about? What on this Earth is there that he might want and can’t have.

“Maybe you just don’t know what you want?” It comes out as a question. A softening of an accusation though he hasn’t softened anything about himself in years. Except for his sheepies. And even then it’s a provisional softness.

“What do you want?”

Read the whole chapter on AO3 Now

[fandommissingmoments]

Hellfire Finds a Home (Eddie Munson)

‘An hour?’ Eddie asked, following Mr. Robins, the music teacher, closely; he was trying to put all the guitars back in place, but that was a job made more difficult by Eddie’s presence. He supposed he should feel bad, and he did a little, but that didn’t stop him from wanting answers.

‘Yes, Eddie, that’s all I can give,’ Mr. Robins said, exasperation behind his voice. ‘Band practice in here every other day. Then there’s general practice Tuesdays. I’ve got meetings Thursdays. The best I can do is an hour before band on Wednesday.’ He turned, only to come face-to-face with Eddie who stepped aside at the raised eyebrow. 

‘How about band takes lunches?’ 

‘You know I can’t do that,’ Mr. Robins said, moving towards his desk. ‘Have you tried your home room?’

Eddie scoffed. ‘It’s too bright, there’s no atmosphere.’

‘English?’ 

Eddie merely raised an incredulous eyebrow. 

Mr. Robins heaved a deep breath, carefully taking his seat behind his desk. At least he was offering something, though. The other teachers Eddie had approached, knowing that he needed space for Hellfire to become a proper club, had all made up pathetic excuses. One had even admitted to him that they didn’t want that kind of devil worship happening in the school, let alone her room. 

Mr. Robins had barely been sat a moment, not even enough time for Eddie to open his mouth and try encouraging him to change his mind, before he jumped up again. It made Eddie’s enthusiastic actions almost pale in comparison.

‘Wait here,’ he said, before hurrying out of the classroom. 

Eddie’s brow furrowed as he watched the teacher’s fleeing back. Not knowing how long he’d be, Eddie idly strummed on the nearest guitar. If he had to sell his soul by offering to teach guitar or something for a few extra hours, he was beginning to think it might actually be worth it. Sure, people probably wouldn’t turn up, but the offer might be enough to sway the odds in his favour. The only reason he hadn’t come to Mr. Robins before, who despite only being a new teacher was already one of Eddie’s favourites, was because of how frequently the band room was used.

The minutes dragged, and Eddie was about ready to cut his losses and leave, when Mr. Robins returned, a small smile on his face. 

‘I might’ve found somewhere. Come on,’ he said, motioning down the corridor. 

Eddie carefully put the guitar back in place and followed. The twists of the corridor didn’t seem familiar to him, but he knew he’d been to this part of the school before. He must not have paid too much attention. 

‘And voila,’ Mr. Robins said, throwing open a little door. 

Eddie stepped into the room and didn’t know where to look first. The place was cluttered with old pieces of set and costume from the drama department. The ceiling was littered with lights, different colours and things Eddie was already trying to figure out how to use. 

‘Miss Murphy said you can have it whenever, just make sure you tidy up after yourselves. The only times she’s going to need you to book, essentially, are when the shows are on and they need rehearsal space. Also,’ the music teacher said, hurrying on as Eddie turned excitedly towards him, ‘drama students always take precedence. If they decide they need rehearsal space and come to kick you out, you guys leave without argument. So, what’d you think?’

‘It’s perfect,’ said Eddie, turning in a little circle to get another good look at the room. It would have to be tidied a little, but he was sure between all of them they could do it.

‘Excellent. Just speak to Miss Murphy - she’s in the staff room now, but try catching up with her after school, and you can figure out the details.’

‘Thanks, Sir,’ said Eddie, grinning at him. 

The man shrugged modestly before motioning him out of the room. 

Eddie beamed as he left, glad that he might actually have some good news to share with the others. Hellfire was officially in business, and he couldn’t wait to get started; couldn’t wait to make sure it was ready for their next campaign.

[trashmenace]

Alien Nation 5 Slag Like Me by Barry B. Longyear 1994 Pocket Books

In 1959, journalist John Howard Griffin disguised himself as a Black man using tanning booths, medication, and make up, and travelled the American South, recording the experience for Sepia magazine. Unlike the similarly themed Soul Man...

his book Black Like Me seems to still be well regarded. I was familiar with the parodies, from Eddie Murphy in Saturday Night Live...

to Chris Morris' Brass Eye.

Even Superman's Girl Friend, Lois Lane, gets in on the act

And the Punisher. Oof.

In Slag Like Me, a human reporter undergoes surgical treatment to look Tenctonese. He goes undercover in LA, hangs around gangsters, and exposes bigoted police. When he goes missing, LAPD and the FBI investigate, and Matthew Sikes undergoes the same procedure to flush out whoever did whatever to the reporter.

Meanwhile, George Francisco is partnered with former overseer and current FBI agent Paul Iniko to chase down leads, such as the exposed crooked cops and an angry neighbor.

I don't know if this story was based on unused season two scripts, and tie-in novels come with a lot of restrictions, so I don't want to assign blame, but everything about Slag Like Me gets it wrong.

Alien Nation is a metaphor for immigration, assimilation, and bigotry. These themes are baked into every scene of every story. I struggle to comprehend the creative mind that, after a movie, 22 television episodes, and four novels, decides "Hey, how about we make this next book about racism?" It also falls into the same trap as some X-Man stories - instead of using fictional bigotry to highlight and explore actual bigotry, it uses actual racism as a metaphor to explore the real theme, fictional racism against aliens who do not exist. And the discussions on racism and bigotry are not subtextual here, it's pure soapboxing.

One would think, given the title and cover and all, the main story would be Sikes living life as a newcomer. You would be wrong. A decent amount of page space is budgeted to him preparing, but he's barely out in public in disguise and can't manage to stay in character for more than two minutes. His first undercover act is to make an appointment with a Tenctonese gang leader, to whom he instantly announces that he is a human cop.

Very quickly they're pulled over and beaten up by the police. Matt is taken to the hospital and has amnesia, so I was hoping we'd have a bit where he would think he was Tenctonese for a while, but nope, he gets his memory back almost right away and promptly tells everyone he is a human cop. Sikes is not very good at going undercover.

At no time did the foundational premise of the book, Sikes going undercover as a Newcomer, have any affect on the plot or themes, other than to discover that LA cops would be as mean to Newcomers as they are to everyone else, which Sikes already knows.

The mystery plot is equally disappointing. Various conspiracies are hinted out before it's revealed to be characters who are named in passing once, and they did it for dumb reasons. Some mysteries have non-sequitur endings that reflect the chaotic nature of real crime, other times it reads like the author didn't feel like wrapping everything up and just picked a killer at random. This felt like the latter.

As with the last book, Sikes and Francisco are split up through most of the story, denying the buddy cop element, and is replace by Francisco and Iniko. We get kind of a Bugs/Daffy, Mickey/Donald deal where Francisco goes from being the rational half of the duo to being the irrational one. Pretty much all the soap opera elements, such as Francisco's home life, are neglected. We do get a little bit more of Dobbs, Lawrence Hilton-Jacobs' character, which was nice.

Paperback from Amazon