#get a queue

[mugloversonly]

Stevie: your hair needs work

<<😺😺😺😺😺😺😺

"Yes? Hello, officer? There's a man in my apartment." 

Eddie stirs awake, his surroundings coming back to him in hazy waves.

"What?" he slurs out, blinking to clear his vision.

"Oh, I was just telling the officer that I've found a man sleeping on my couch," Stephanie says with a troubled expression, hovering over him.

Over the couch that he fell asleep on.

He sits up so suddenly he loses his balance and falls back against the cushion.

"I'm so sorry, please don't call the cops—!"

Stephanie immediately shakes her hands, which are free of a phone.

"I was joking, I was joking!" she reassures him quickly. "I'm sorry." She smiles apologetically, taking a seat next to him. "I guess that wasn't the best way to wake up someone." 

"No," Eddie chuckles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Especially not an ex-drug dealer," he huffs dryly. 

Steph cocks her head with a surprised "huh" and only then does Eddie realize what he has just blurted out. 

"Ah, shit. Am I ruining my good neighbor status?" he winces.

"Not at all," Steph shakes her head, and gently pats his knee. He zeroes his focus on her hand when she decides to rest it there on his jean-clad leg. 

"I know my nice neighbor Eddie, not the drug dealer one," she smiles reassuringly. "What made you turn around? If you don't mind me asking," she squeezes his knee and retrieves her hand to lean back more comfortably on the couch. One of her cats, Garfield, jumps on her lap for a greeting, and Eddie realizes she's still wearing her jacket. He looks at the clock on the wall and realizes it's almost midnight. 

"Sorry, I'm holding you back, you're clearly tired," she backtracks quickly, watching his eyes dart around. But Eddie shakes his head.

"Nah, I just took an invigorating nap." She laughs at that and he can't help but smile as well. "I'd assume you're tired after traveling."

"I took an invigorating nap on the bus," she smiles, petting her cat. Arwen finally decides she's not above greeting her human and jumps in next to her as well, occupying Stephanie's other hand. 

Eddie reminds himself not to get jealous of felines.

"I managed to graduate," he says and when Steph looks at him in confusion, he adds: "I dealt in high school to save money for my band, thought that was my only route. But then I did graduate, on my third try, and the art teacher pulled some strings, asked around, and told me I could go study music. The guys forced me to go for it," he smiles at the memory. "My band, I mean. They said at least one of us should know some theory," he chuckles. 

"That's very nice of them," Stephanie comments. 

"Yeah. The bastards followed me after high school too." He grins. 

"And I still haven't heard your music," she sighs wistfully. 

"I'll bring a tape next time," he promises. 

"You better."

They sit in silence for a while, only the cat's purring filling the night ambiance. 

"Want some tea?"

"I guess I should go."

They speak over each other, eyes wide when they meet awkwardly. They chuckle, and Eddie can feel his cheeks warm up.

"Or I can get us a beer? Since you're not an old lady," she offers, spotting the empty bottle on the table. "Unless you really need to go."

"Beer sounds good. Considering there are no old ladies here," he smiles charmingly, daring her to protest. 

Steph doesn't say anything, only rolls her eyes and gently nudges Garfield from her lap onto the couch cushions. She scratches Eddie's head when she passes, thankfully missing the way it causes his whole body to shiver. 

"Won't your uncle be worried where you are?" she asks from the kitchen, giving Eddie the space he needs to collect himself. 

"I told him I'd wait for you," he answers, scratching Garfield and trying to forget how good it felt when done to him. "Also, I don't have a curfew anymore. Never had, in fact. Not with Wayne."

"Lucky you." She steps back into the room, handing him a chilled bottle. "How long have you been living with him?"

"Since high school," he answers before taking a swig. "Spent a short time in a halfway house before that. My parents couldn't handle me anymore, but they managed to reach my uncle and he took me in."

"The hell do you mean 'couldn't handle you'?" Steph asks with a frown.

Eddie chuckles at her immediate offense.

"They got into legal trouble, and couldn't afford the house anymore, I think my dad spent some time in prison too. Tax fraud and shit, never cared enough to dig into it and Wayne doesn't like talking about them either. He's a better parent they'd ever be anyway."

"Yeah," Steph softens. "I'd love to have had someone like him back in the day." Then, she deflates with a sigh. "Though even the nicest people can turn out to be bigots. Not Wayne, of course!" she rushes to add. "He knows about Robin and he's really cool about it." 

Eddie sees his opening and feels comfortable enough to use it finally. 

"He better be, since his nephew is bisexual," he says with a little huff. 

"He is?" Steph picks up curiously. 

"Yeah," Eddie scratches his cheek, suddenly sheepish. "Turned out I wasn't watching Indiana Jones for the plot."

"I think that sweaty chest is plot enough," she says and they both laugh.

"Have you dated a guy, then?" Stephanie asks next. 

"Only one for real," Eddie admits. "But it's not like I've dated many girls either, though it is easier."

"A young bachelor like you?" Stephanie raises her eyebrows in surprise. "You should be swarming with marriage proposals, the way your uncle describes you."

Eddie groans, throwing his head back against the cushions. 

"What nonsense is he telling about me?"

"Only that he has a talented, smart boy in Indy, who's always helpful and protective of his friends and family. Also, he has really frizzy hair."

"Excuse me?"

Eddie picks up his head to look at Stephanie. She's suddenly closer than before, rubbing a lock of his hair between her fingers. 

"When was the last time you had your hair done?"

"Uh." He looks between her hand and her face like he'll find the answer there. "Never? Probably? At least not that I remember."

Stephanie's mouth purses with displeasure. 

"I can fix them for you. For taking care of my cats."

Eddie wants her hands in his hair so badly, but he raises his beer like a dumbass. 

"But I already got a beer," he points out. 

She shakes her head. 

"I share beers with friends for less. I'd usually buzz Wayne too, and you'd be doing me a favor because I can't focus with your split ends right in my face."

She's really playing it up, pout and all, and unfortunately, it's working on him. 

But he'd probably do anything she asked for. 

"Then, uh... Sure, I guess."

[nugget-creates-things]

Spring Witch 🌸🌿

[mugloversonly]

Love this so much

darling, dearest, dead

written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge for November | prompt: guard | wc: 532 | rated: G | cw: major character death (but not really?) | tags: angst with a hopeful ending, Ghost!Steve Harrington, GhostHunter!Eddie Munson

There’s a legend that the first person who gets buried in a cemetery becomes the guardian of all the other souls buried there after. They become a reaper of sorts, ferrying the newly dead from this world to the next—a place they can never go.

This is what happens to Steve Harrington, aged just eighteen when he tragically dies in the Starcourt tragedy in ‘85.

Steve, who dies but doesn’t move on. Doesn’t go peacefully into that good night, or however the hell the saying goes. He can’t.

Steve, who attends his own burial, but despite how loud he screams into the faces of his loved ones, goes entirely unheard.

He eventually gets it, of course. Despite what everyone thinks (thought? Do they still think of him?) Steve isn’t stupid. He catches on quickly when the first few souls come wandering up to him, lost and alone. Steve can see the path they’re supposed to follow, even when they can’t. So, Steve takes the time to explain to them what he knows, tries to comfort them, before he guides them towards the afterlife.

It’s a curse, really. Eternal isolation. Decades pass but Steve remains. The few souls he speaks to are always so eager to leave him. In the end, Steve’s forgotten.

And then one day, Eddie Munson comes stomping through his cemetery.

—🛡️—

“What’s with the get up?” A dark haired stranger asks, startling Steve, “there an anime convention going on or something?”

Steve’s eyes trail up and down the newcomer. He wants to make a comment about the strange attire he died in, but usually upsetting the newly departed isn’t a good idea.

“It’s my work uniform. I didn’t have time to change.” Steve explains, a well-rehearsed response. The Scoops uniform that he can never shed was always a point of interest for people. “Sorry, I didn’t see you come in.”

This is the first time Steve’s missed a burial. Strange.

The guy snorts, “don’t apologize. I’m the one intruding. You visiting someone? I can wait to do my shit.”

Steve frowns, brows creasing where they come together. “No. I’m just… waiting.” He answers.

“For the ghost?” The stranger asks, his interest clearly piqued.

Steve blinks. “The ghost?”

“Yeah, y’know. The ghost that supposedly haunts this graveyard. Legend has it it’s some guy who died way back in the 80’s—there've been sightings for like, thirty years, but no one’s been able to actually record anything decent. All the pictures are super blurry. But I intend to change that. I’m Eddie, by the way. Ghost hunter and semi-professional psychic.” Eddie grins, giving a strange little bow in his introduction.

Wait…

“1985?” Steve asks.

“Yep,” Eddie pop’s the ‘p’, “The year Starcourt burned down and old Steven Harrington bit the dust. You know the story?”

Steve didn’t need to breathe—not anymore. And yet, he still felt short of breath. Lightheaded.

“It’s just Steve.” He clarifies.

“Yeah?” Eddie snorts, “how would you—”

A light seems to go off in Eddie’s head. He pales, eyes widening.

“You can really see me?” Steve can’t help but laugh, tears stinging his eyes.

“Yeah, I can see you, Steve.” Eddie mumbles, stunned, looking like he’d seen a ghost.

—

tagging: @sleepy-steve because they let me rant about reaper Steve to them<3 check out her reaper!eddie fic: here!💘

[wardensantoineandevka]

is that piece of media actually bad, or is it just not following the blueprint you projected onto it? is that work actually not good, or are you just demanding something from it that is absolutely antithetical to its themes, genre, tone, and narrative goal? is that story actually poorly written, or do you just dislike that it is not the specific things you wanted from it that it never set out to be, never was, and never is going to become? is it actually bad, or is it actually well-executed and you just dislike the story it chose to be because it isn't catering to your specific desires and expectations?

[artsymeeshee]

Random idea I got this morning thinking about how small little things (mostly about missing important moments of the past) make the boys emotional and sorrowful.

[alicelufenia]

Say what you will about Baldur's Gate 3, one of their best design choices was to make elf aging stop at human middle age, so instead of centuries old perfect supermodels we have the smoking hottest chads with smile lines who've ever lived.

Also was mentioned in the notes that I forgot about Jaheira. I must rectify that!

[trans-androgyne]

Something left out of conversations about trans oppression is that times change quickly and the way trans men and trans women are treated today is very different than how they were treated 100, 50, or even 20 years ago.

Maybe 50 years ago a trans woman could practically never get a legal job or housing if people knew they were trans, but today there are plenty of trans women who hold down jobs and homes just fine. As much as conservatives are trying to change this, they can no longer be legally arrested for wearing women's clothing either. And in 1950 maybe trans men and mascs were out of the public eye besides the occasional freakshows and shocking newspaper articles but by now we're heavily fearmongered about by conservatives in a way that genuinely influences policy and trans rights. When the book coining transmisogyny was written in 2007 claiming transmascs were never ridiculed for their masculinity, there was practically no representation of transmascs in media whether positive or negative, and that is very much no longer the case now in 2024 where there are books and documentaries calling us delusional little autistic girls.

Knowing trans history is important, but if you only ever evaluate trans community dynamics through the experiences of historical trans people, your transfeminism will forever be outdated.

[artsymeeshee]

[mugloversonly]

I love her

[blanc-ci]

Spock doesn’t quite understand why Kirk feels the need to “get so close they’re practically inside eachother’s skin” when they can just meld, but Kirk assures him it’s an entirely normal and common human intimacy ritual

[salsayz]

nikaido 💕 can never get enough of her

[6okuto]

taps my mic. osamu who's just opened onigiri miya, who's so, so proud of himself but scared shitless all the same when teammates and family call to check in on him, whose smile wobbles not from anxiety but excitement when a customer shyly walks in.

and you, who he quickly learns the name of because you visit on the first day, and keep coming the days after—the first regular he hopes, and you promise, of plenty more.

he asks you for your opinions on the menu so far, the stools he's still not sure about, the volume of the television playing above, if the takeout box, filled with experimental flavours, he gave you for free a couple days ago had any winners. you answer happily, and even if it's a shrug or hand gesture meaning "so-so," osamu appreciates it all, deadset on turning your so-so's to something unquestionably good.

you're his secret to keep for a while, a good luck charm (for the whole staff, he specifies when you tease him about it) when you walk in. so when atsumu and his team visit for the first time since the grand opening, and one of the employees happily exclaims your name as the doorbell chimes, he shoots his twin a look. "wow, big shot, y'got regulars already?"

but atsumu's teasing lasts only a moment before his expression morphs into one of confusion, and then another—one a twin sends his twin when he realizes he's been kept in the dark about something, someone, that brings a sickeningly happy smile to the other's face. osamu isn't even looking at him when he answers—"yeah, one."

[tomatoart]

the girls🌱🐍 ignore the twink on the right

[feyinvestigations]

Pt1. // Pt.2 // next

Masterpost

Hood would never want to be verified and would actively hate being verified argue with the wall

[spockvarietyhour]

Alien Resurrection (1997) directed by Jean-Pierre Jeunet

[l3viat8an]

MC:*watching Lucifer and Diavolo dance together at a party* Do you think Lucifer and Diavolo have ever kissed?

Barbatos:*sitting next to MC sipping on a glass of demonus* I know they’ve had intercourse before.

MC: Even I know that. But I’m asking if you think they’ve kissed.