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eddiexmunsonlover · 7 months ago

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One Step Away From You (Chapter 6)

BSF!Eddie Munson x PlusSize!Fem!Reader

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Chapter Summary: You finally join Hellfire and restart your tradition of horror movie nights with Eddie. Diving into deep talks about the events of the last few years you've been apart. WC: 5.4k Warnings: MDNI. HEAVY spoiler warning for Eddie's Flight of Icarus book. Hurt and fluff, more mutual pining. Explicit language, mentions of toxic family relationships, violence, hurtful past relationships. If anyone is interested in being added to a taglist for each chapter, just comment, message, or send me an ask!

Friday, October 18th, 1985

After over 3 weeks of relentless pressure and questions of when you’d finally join the club from Eddie and the trio of younger boys, you finally cave in. It’s not that you hadn’t wanted to join, quite the opposite in fact. You missed Eddie’s creativity, enthusiasm, and dramatics when it came to campaigns. You always had so much fun when you’d join the younger boys’ campaigns over the years too, their bickering providing you with far more entertainment than the game itself.

You’d initially been a little apprehensive about joining given the older members, not wanting to feel like you were intruding. That apprehension quickly dissipated once you started joining the Hellfire table at lunch, quickly fitting in and joking around with Gareth, Jeff and Grant. Eddie wouldn’t have tolerated anything different, prepared to step in if the older members didn’t quickly accept you. This is a club for the freaks and outcasts of Hawkins to be fair, the idea that any of them wouldn’t quickly accept you, fellow outcast and long time friend of Eddie’s, would be almost out of question.

The only other issue with officially joining Hellfire was the meeting time on Friday evenings, when you’re scheduled to work at the restaurant. You didn’t think your Aunt Patty would be willing to let you go from working one of the restaurant’s busiest nights, but after much pleading and ensuring it’s for a school club meetings, not forgetting to mention how good it’ll look on college applications while leaving out the fact it’s for playing Dungeons and Dragons, she eventually relents and moves you to working Tuesday nights instead. It’s not an even trade at all for your aunt, switching from working a busy Friday night to a slow weeknight, but you sure as hell won’t mention it.

When you first walk into the theater room, you already wish you had joined sooner. It’s the perfect placement. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the stage lights that cast a glow around the room, the lit candles surrounding the game table, adding to the no doubt intense atmosphere you’d learned to expect from Eddie’s campaigns. Your eyes trail along the table to the throne-like chair placed at the head, Eddie already sitting in it with his face buried in his playbook. You smirk at the sight, typical Eddie going all out. He turns to greet you all with a wide, but sinister smile.

“Welcome, my sheep! Please, gather round so we may begin the grand trek to Mackbar!” he booms, voice deepening as he continues. He looks at you specifically, gesturing dramatically at the empty seat to his right.

“Special seat for our new member, m’lady.”

You giggle at his antics as a giddy excitement fills your belly, quickly walking over to claim your spot.

“So kind of you, Master.” you retort playfully as you take your seat. Eddie tries to hide the way the word falling from your lips makes his stomach do somersaults, on top of the way his red and black guitar pick necklace he gave you looks hanging around your neck, resting against your chest as if it was made for you.

“So, still a gnome cleric if my memory serves me correctly?”

“Nope. I’m a chaotic good wood-elf fighter named Vadania Moonflower.” you state confidently with a smile that Eddie quickly returns, eyebrows shooting up to his bangs.

“Mmm very interesting, I like it. Suits you well.”

The sound of Dustin clearing his throat breaks you both from the trance you’re in as you smile cheekily at each other, Dustin displaying a smirk of his own as he watches. With everyone settled in their seats with their figurines set, drinks and snacks waiting, Eddie begins the campaign. The deep theatrical voice he uses to set the scene and the party’s mission immediately draws and sucks you in. Soon finding yourself completely engulfed in your character and the world set for the game.

Everytime you’d joined in or watched the younger boys' campaigns over the years in Mike’s basement, you’d often imagined what it would be like to bring the boys and Eddie together for a campaign, two parts of your world combining so to speak. You smile as you look around the table now that it’s finally happening, utterly entertained at the interactions between Dungeon Master Eddie and the boys, the curveballs they throw at Eddie’s expectations for the game. He won’t admit it so easily, but he loves the way the new members keep him on his toes, sparking his creativity in those moments when things don’t go as planned.

He’s missed a lot of things about you over the years you’ve been gone. Seeing you utterly engrossed in his campaigns, now with more confidence in your character and abilities, is one of those things. Butterflies flutter in his chest as he watches you enact your character’s fierce disposition and fighting abilities, readily at the front lines to defend the party at any inkling of danger.

It’s a place where time doesn’t exist, not when you’re completely immersed in the elaborate story and gameplay set out by Eddie. Although to be fair you often feel that way when you’re with him in general, so consumed and grounded in his presence that time flies by.

Tonight is no different. Before you know it you’ve reached the end of tonight’s campaign, on a cliff-hanger at that. The time on your watch reads 8:33pm, 2 and a half hours having passed since you first took your seat at the table.

You decide to stay back and help Eddie clean up and collect his supplies.

“So what did you think? You have fun?” You smirk at the question as you throw away empty Mountain Dew cans.

“I think that I’ve really missed playing DnD with you,” you admit, letting out a breathy laugh. “Yeah, I had a lot of fun. I’m glad I came.”

“Yeah, me too.” He says, offering you a shy smile as he blows out the last lit candle.

Once everything is all packed up you walk out of the school together side by side, paying Eddie compliments for the campaign, compliments that you can almost swear are causing a blush to adorn his cheeks.

As you approach your cars, Eddie turns to you.

“Hey so uh I was wondering, how do you feel about taking up another one of our old traditions tonight? Horror movie night, what do you say?” He asks, hands tucked into his jeans pocket as he sways back and forth. “That is if you don’t already have plans?”

“No no, I’m free. I’d love that.”

“Perfect” he sings with a bright smile before gesturing to his van parked next to yours. “Just follow me to my castle then, sweetheart.”

Uncle Wayne’s trailer is a place that has always brought you comfort, a safe space in a way for you over the years. That sentiment extended to Uncle Wayne himself too. Anytime things were bad at home, Wayne ensured his door was wide open for you and it always was. Even when Eddie and you would play your guitars’ in his room a little too loud at times, he never said a word. He never had anything but kind words for you as a matter of fact.

You’ve only been able to see him once since you’ve been back, greeting you with open arms and a smile. Since he’s taken up night shifts he’s usually asleep during the daytime, leaving the trailer to Eddie on nights like tonight where the sounds of screaming victims from the TV won’t wake him from his slumber.

You make yourself comfortable, taking your usual spot on the worn loveseat sofa in the living room as Eddie rummages through the kitchen cabinets.

“What’s on the lineup for tonight?” you ask as Eddie returns to the living room with a bowl of popcorn and 2 cans of Coke. He smirks at you as he sets them down on the coffee table before turning around and sifting through tapes under the TV. “Well I figured, what better movie to mark the recommencement of our movie nights… gotcha” he begins, finally finding the movie he’s looking for before turning back to you, raising the movie for you to see, “than your favorite movie. Still your favorite right?” He asks, VHS tape of Halloween in hand.

You smile brightly, “Of course, you know me so well.”

He returns your smile, turning back and inserting the tape into the VHS player, almost giddily jogging over to turn down the lights around the trailer before joining you as the opening credits begin.

You both lean back into the loveseat, getting comfortable. Feet propped up on the coffee table, bowl of popcorn resting between you, shoulder to shoulder on the small sofa. You can feel the warmth radiating through his Hellfire tshirt to yours, finding yourself resisting the urge to lay your head on his shoulder like you’ve done many times before. All those times had been from sleepiness and comfortability with each other, you don’t want to acknowledge that you now craved the notion from purely wanting to feel more of his touch. Especially now after having him back in your life after years away, knowing he missed you too. But that urge stems from deeper feelings, feelings you have to continue burying if you want to keep him in your life after you’ve just gotten him back.

Neither of you speak for a while as you watch the movie you’ve both seen countless times you could recite it word for word. The very first movie you and Eddie had ever seen together at the theater, begging Wayne to be the adult to accompany you two.

Eddie reaches down to his lunchbox resting by his feet, flicking open the lid and quickly finding the joint he’s looking for. He hands it over to you with a smile.

“Care to do the honors?”

“My pleasure.” you take the joint and lighter from his hands, quickly lighting it and passing it back after your first hit. It’s a ritual you’ve quickly picked up over the last 3 weeks since your rekindled friendship.

Mid-way through the joint as you watch the high schoolers in the movie, a question you’ve been holding off asking crawls its way to the forefront of your brain.

“I’ve been meaning to ask… why exactly are you still at Hawkins High?” you question with a slight teasing in your tone as you pass the joint to him, “I mean I know it’s not because you’re not smart.”

When he sighs and a small frown forms on his lips in response, you almost regret asking.

“It’s a long story, bunch of bullshit.” he takes a drag before looking at you with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, “And why exactly are you at Hawkins High, hmm? Miss Super Senior herself.”

“Well technically I’m not a super senior, thank you very much.” You roll your eyes at him playfully before sucking in a deep breath, “I’m not repeating my senior year. I failed 10th grade after the move, so…” you finish with a half-hearted shrug, casting your eyes back to the tv as you take another hit.

Eddie silently watches you as your words weigh on him. It’s not that he doubted you’ve told him the truth about how hard the move was, about how much it hurt. But hearing that it hurt so much that you flunked that year of school made it all really sink in for him.

He wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around you, pull you in for a hug with whispered wishes that it never happened. He resists though, he just got you back in his life, he can’t take you leaving again. He settles for extending his arm along the back of the loveseat behind your head, and decides to open up to you.

“I… some things happened my first senior year back in ‘84 that uh, pretty much made it impossible for me to graduate. Dad came back.”

Your eyes are quickly back on him, readjusting your body to face him more as you wait for him to continue. You’ve always known Eddie and his Dad never had a great relationship, an almost entirely absent father who cared more about himself than being there for his own son.

“I was living on my own at the house at that point. Then one day he’s back. I tried so hard to hold on to all that anger I had towards him, but he knew how to weasel his way through me with that ‘Munson charm’, telling me just what I wanted to hear. He had a ‘job’ that he insisted he only wanted me, needed me to help him with. I just so happened to really need the money… I’d met this girl, Paige.”

You were waiting for that part. You’d already heard of it, of her, from your mutual friend Ronnie over the phone at the time, but it didn’t stop your stomach from dropping at the mention of her name from Eddie’s own mouth.

“She happened to be at the Hideout one night when we were playing, visiting back home from LA. She was a junior scout for WR Records, offered to help us record a demo to send to her boss. Except her boss only liked me, got me an audition. We uh started seeing each other, she even offered for me to move in with her in LA. But I needed the money to get out there so… I agreed to do the job with Al. Stealing weed off a truck transporting it cross-country.” He scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief as he thinks back to the memory. Your eyebrows shoot up at the revelation, the bullshit Al Munson dragged Eddie into.

“We did it too. Sold it to Reefer Rick, and I got enough money to fix the van up and make the move out to LA. Except Al lied to me. Used me. He knew who that weed belonged to. An old boss he’d already stolen from. I came home the day before I was supposed to drive out to LA to his henchmen we stole from at the house. He gave them back the money that was left but… they shot off their guns, set the house on fire, shot Officer Moore.”

“Jesus Christ, Eds” you breathe out in shock, a million thoughts running through your head.

“I know. They scurried off but I went to try to help Moore, you know, do the right thing but Al… he did what he always did. Looked me in my eyes, told me I was the one changing the plans. I begged him to stay, for me… but he just left. Again.”

“Eds I…” Before you can reach your hand out to his shoulder with a consoling touch or mutter how sorry you are, he quickly starts back up.

“I was so stupid for trusting him again. For believing he came back for me, hoping that he’d stay for me.” He shakes his head at himself, quickly crossing his arms over his chest.

“No. Eddie, look at me.”

After a moment he finally brings his eyes to meet yours, defeat and disappointment displayed in their brown irises. Your hand reaches out to rest on his shoulder.

“You’re not stupid. You’re not. Of course you wanted to believe he’d be a real damn Father for once. It’s not your fault he preyed on that, your vulnerability. ”

You watch as his face and body slumps slightly with a sigh, offering you a small one-sided smile.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” he mutters softly before his gaze turns to his fidgeting hands. “That’s not even the worst part. I um, I lost Mom’s records in the fire. They were in the living room where the fire started. I-I tried but, I couldn’t save them.” He stammers dejectedly, voice cracking as he relives the painful memory. “I managed to replace one of the Muddy Water’s records but, that’s it…That was all I had left of her.”

You give his shoulder a squeeze, taking a deep breath as pain and anger course through you, a heaviness weighing on your chest. You know how much those records meant to him, his mother’s ‘plane tickets’ as she called them. You cherish the memory of the first time he shared them with you, of every time he’d tell you the early memories he has of her, dancing around the living room as they played.

“Those fucking assholes.” you seethe, shaking your head to stop the angry tears from forming as you hear the pain your best friend went through at the hands of his dad and his old ‘co-workers’. You look at him with his head down and immediately pull him to you, wrapping your arms tightly around him. His arms quickly wrap around your waist, burying his face in your shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. I know how much they meant to you.”

You didn’t know it, but feeling your embrace is exactly what he needs. He wished he could’ve had it that night. Convinced it would’ve made that living hell of a night just a little better. Sitting in that jail cell with Officer Moore’s dried blood still under his fingernails, wishing you were there despite the resentment he held for you at the time.

He holds you a little longer before he collects himself enough to face you again. Squeezing your hand as you part before relaxing back into his seat, turning his body to fully face you.

“That’s not even all of it.” He scoffs out a laugh before sighing, rubbing his hands against his jean-clad thighs. “Spent the night in the slammer. Moore vouched for me after he got out of surgery, that I tried to help him.”

“So they let you go, right?”

He shakes his head in response before meeting your curious, wide eyes.

“Nope, not unless I made bail. Hop told me they were still investigating the arson of the house.”

“How long were you stuck in there?” You prod further. The image of Eddie traumatized from his house burning down with his mom’s records in it, watching someone get shot in front of him, trying to save him, and watching his Dad leave him again, while stuck in a jail cell is pulling at your heart strings. The regret of not being there, not talking to him is only intensifying in the process. Maybe if you were still in Hawkins, let alone still talking, you could’ve helped, stopped this from happening in some way. The reality of if you actually could’ve is murky, you know, but you can’t stop the thoughts from coming in nonetheless.

“Only till the next morning. Paige. Hop gave me one phone call. Didn’t go well to say the least.” He shakes his head, crossing his arms again before stretching his body out slightly, knee resting against yours. “She was uh, pissed that I let her down. Ruined our chances. You wanna know what she said to me when I told her I was in jail?” He asks, bitterness rising in his tone as his eyes squint. Your head moves forward slightly in response.

“‘What did you do?’” He scoffs. “Not ‘What happened?’ Not “Are you okay?’ That whole time she fed me this story. ‘Barback turned rock hero’. But in that moment I knew she saw me the way everyone else in this town does. A fuck up. Guilty. Stuck under Al Munson’s shadow. Didn’t take me too long after to realize that that relationship wasn’t built on anything more than what we could do for each other. Making me a rockstar, making her look good for her boss and get a promotion. She did wire the money to bail me out though, so there’s that. Then I never heard from her again.” He finishes with a shrug, silently reading your expression that’s twisted in confusion and annoyance. You shake your head as you take it all in.

“You deserve so much better. All of it. But with that specifically, you deserved a better first relationship than that. One that’s based on genuine connection, not just what you can get out of it.” You pause, hoping you aren’t revealing yourself too much. “I’m glad she helped bail you out though.”

After a moment of pause, your curiosity gets the best of you.

“So, was she the only girlfriend you’ve had since I’ve been gone?” You ask with a cheeky smile, hoping to play it off as a teasing question from a friend, a question to lighten the mood just a fraction.

“Well, we technically never labeled it but yeah, the only person that ever got close enough to that. She uh- however was not my first.”

Your eyes widen in shock at the same time your heart falls to your stomach.

“Oh really?” you try your best to tease as a slight blush appears on his cheeks.

“There was 2 girls before. Wasn’t anything serious though. Just one night stands with girls that saw me as a conquest, daring themselves to sleep with the freak so they could run back and tell their friends about it.”

You’re tempted to ask who, no doubt you probably knew the girls. Something in you told you it was better that you didn’t know, so you bite back the question lingering on your tongue, only nodding your head in understanding.

“Yeah, I know what that’s like.”

His eyebrows shoot up, looking at you curiously, demanding elaboration.

“Oh?”

You fidget uncomfortably under his gaze, but you feel it’s only fair to tell him your story after all he’d just laid out for you.

“There was only one guy, Justin. Earlier this year back in Virginia. I thought it was something different, something real, serious.” You sigh, gaze moving to stare off into the trailer as the score of Halloween in the background fills the silence. “When he avoided me at school and in public, I knew on the inside, but I still held onto hope. No one had ever given me attention like that before, showed any interest in me. Well one Friday night he got what he wanted, I let him be my first. When he stood me up the next day, I knew. When I walked into school that Monday to all the whispers, eyes on me, Justin laughing with his friends when I walked by… I knew. I was just a conquest too, the fat girl.”

“Fuck that guy.” he sneers, drawing your attention back to him. “You know you’re so much more than that, right? That you deserve so much more.”

His look, his eyes, his voice, it’s all so intense and sincere as he stares at you. You gulp under his gaze and force a small smile.

“I know. I just feel like that’s all guys will ever see when they look at me.” You murmur softly.

“Those are just guys that aren’t worth your time, princess. Guys that aren’t even worthy of your presence.” He insists, putting emphasis into the final words.

You offer him a real smile this time at his words, the way they fill your heart and cheeks with warmth.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

The bright smile he gives in return nearly takes your breath away, like it always does. That ‘Munson magic’ Eddie always insisted he didn’t seem to have, didn’t inherit from his father. The things his smile does to you, his eyes, just a look… you’d be damned that he doesn’t have that magic.

You just wish he felt the same way about you. You try not to let yourself read too much into his words, delude yourself into hoping he sees you as more than just his best friend. He’s only being a good friend, saying all the things a friend is supposed to.

“So uh, what about you and Steve?” he questions quietly, confidence faltering in his voice.

You give him a confused look, eyebrow cocked.

“What about me and Steve?”

“Well I uh just thought-”

“Steve and I are just friends, Ed.” you laugh out in surprise, Eddie trying his best to act nonchalant as he mouths an ‘Oh’.

“I mean I will say he’s grown a lot over the years but that doesn’t mean he’s all of a sudden into fat girls now.” When Eddie gives you a curious look with his eyebrows pinched together, you quickly add on, “And no, I’m not saying that in a self-depreciating way.”

“Sooo, you do like him?” He asks slowly, accusingly.

“No. Even if he did like me like that, Steve’s not really my type.” you state simply, easing the worry that’s been swimming through Eddie’s head since he first saw you two together. He plays it off well, only nodding his head in response.

The intensified score as Laurie is chased by Michael Myers in the climax of the film draws both of your attention. You let the conversation sit in the air, like heavy smoke slowly drifting through the trailer as you watch the end of the film. Even the electrified but gentle brushing of skin as both your hands fish around the popcorn bowl between you doesn’t bring your eyes back to each other and off the television screen, not yet.

When the credits start rolling Eddie gets up, taking out the tape and turning the TV channel to Miami Vice. He settles back onto the loveseat with you before lighting another joint. After you take a hit and pass it back to him, you decide to pick up the previous conversation again. Nervously sharing a thought that’s lingered in your head since Ronnie first told you about the LA girl Eddie met and the band’s demo.

“You know, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way but, I’m kind of glad the whole moving to L.A. thing didn’t work out.”

His eyebrows shoot up, head tilting as he looks at you curiously and surprised.

“Why is that?”

“It’s not that I don’t want you to chase or live your dreams, to be happy.” You insist as you begin, “It’s just that when I imagine it, I think about you falling into that scene and lifestyle. Turning into someone else. You know, one of those rock stars that only cares about alcohol, drugs, which groupie you’re gonna sleep with that night… it just doesn’t sit right.”

It turns your stomach is what it really does, making you feel nauseated as you imagine him surrounded by girls who would never give him a passing glance if he wasn’t on a stage.

He smirks as he takes another hit, taking in your words, your worry.

“Yeah, as rough as it all was in the moment… I’m glad it didn’t happen either.” He sighs, smirk faltering. “I hadn’t even gotten out to LA yet and it was already changing me. Ronnie saw it, called me out on it but I didn’t want to see it. I let Higgins pressure me into dropping out, take the blame for all the torment the jocks were putting onto us, the club. So I left it all behind; school, the club, the band, my friends, me…” He shakes his head at himself as he passes the joint to you, a small frown creasing his cheeks. “I promised myself I’d never do that again, abandon myself and everyone I care about.”

“I can understand why you wanted to, you know, to chase after it. Given everything you’ve been through, I do. But it’s not worth it, to lose yourself and everyone else.”

He nods his head softly in agreement before taking a deep breath, dramatically stretching out his entire body with it on the already crowded small couch, knees pushing into you. You roll your eyes and playfully slap his knee, instantly lightening the mood as a giggle escapes his mouth.

“What about you, huh? You don’t wanna be a famous rockstar, singer/songwriter?” he questions teasingly.

“No, thank you. Surrounded by a bunch of big egos, controlled by a label, having no privacy, having a bunch of attention on me? Not for me. I don’t know though, maybe I could find a solid middle ground. Like sell my songs off to labels, maybe run my own independent recording studio and learn how to produce? Still get to play and make my own music. Kind of like still a part of the industry, but not fully immersed in it, you know?”

Eddie nods, a small smile gracing his lips.

“Yeah, that does sound like a pretty good middle.”

“Mmm, just gotta get through graduation first.” you hum, drawing a sharp laugh from Eddie.

“Well needless to say, all of that shit that happened,” he gestures with his hands. “is why I didn’t graduate my first senior year, it’s not like my grades were good enough to graduate anyway but,” he shrugs nonchalantly, eyebrows and head moving with it. “The grades didn’t exactly improve much the second year either…”

“How the hell did you even get Higgins to let you re-enroll, anyway? As much of a hardass as he’s always been for you.”

Eddie’s back straightens instantly, excitement overtaking him as he leans towards you with a big smile.

“Get a load of this shit. So during one of the many times he was chewing me out in his office, I saw this pill bottle in one of his desk drawers. I didn’t know what the hell it was… until I went to Reefer Rick’s house. When I moved in with Wayne after the fire I decided to start selling for him, help Wayne out with the bills, you know, when I see the same exact pills Higgins had in his desk at Rick’s house. Turns out Mr. Higgins has a little bennie problem.”

“Holy shit!” You breathe out, eyes widening in shock. Eddie’s energy is contagious, filling you up with the same excited energy as you hang onto his every word.

“He wanted to blackmail me to get me to drop out, so I figured I might as well blackmail him to let me back in. Not only did I get him to let me re-enroll, but he has since been a proud sponsor of Hellfire club.” Eddie leans back as he finishes, a self-satisfied smile stretching across his face.

“Oh my god!” You laugh out incredulously. You raise a hand and Eddie instantly goes in, slapping it in a little celebration. “Nicely done, Munson.”

“Thank you, thank you” He says bashfully as he bends into as much of a bow as he can while sitting on the couch, making you giggle.

“He’s not gonna let you stay a Senior forever though, you know.” You tease as you put out the dead joint in the ashtray.

“Yeah yeah, I know. But this is it. This is gonna be the year, ‘86 graduate. I know it. I just gotta get through the hell that is Ms. O’Donnell’s class.” He groans as he throws his head back against the couch, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Well, you know, I’m not exactly a 4.0 scholar myself but we do have that class together. I can help you study, help us both get to that finish line.” You offer him a sweet smile as he pulls his head back up, opening his fingers over his face to peek at you through them before removing them completely when he sees you’re serious. In a second he’s off the couch and onto the floor on one knee in front of you, bowing his head with a hand over his heart.

“Lady Y/L/N, if you would honor me with the bestowing of your great wisdom and knowledge, I would be forever in your debt.”

You throw your head back with a cackle at his dramatics and deep, theatrical voice.

“You may rise, good Sir. It would be my honor to assist you in your mighty quest for the elusive high school diploma.”

He looks up to you with a smile, bowing his head with his hands pressed together in front of him.

“You’re a mess.” You remark with a giggle as he bounces back onto the sofa next to you.

“And you’re the best.” he bumps his shoulder with yours, breath fanning along the sensitive skin of your ears, sending goosebumps throughout your body.

“I know.” You shrug, popping a piece of popcorn into your mouth before turning your attention back to Miami Vice as the sound of his laugh fills your ears.

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x plussize!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #bestfriend!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #one step away from you

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raindrop-on-a-spiderweb · 1 year ago

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A Message To My Readers

I don't tend to use this tumblr as a personal blog, but I feel obliged to be honest to my readers this time.

On August 11, I shot myself in the head with a .22 caliber revolver.

The bullet entered through my right cheek, fracturing my orbital and mandibular, and exited through the side of my nostril, embedding shrapnel inside my face. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt very much. All I felt was a burning pressure tunneling through my face, and warm blood fountaining onto the collar of my dress. The rest of that night I do not remember–save that in the ambulance, blood clots the size of caterpillars were dropping out of my nose.

I spent the next few days in the hospital, the side of my face swelling up so much I couldn't see out of my right eye. I was in the hospital under observation for three days. Nurse aids--new hires I was supposing– kept looking at me with that faint gaze of horror and slight fascination, at the bloody mess on my face swelling up into a bloodier mess, like rubbernecking at a car accident. Otherwise my stay was uneventful–I watched the Discovery Channel and reread The Master and Margarita several times while we waited for the swelling to go down and for my flesh to knit itself together enough so I could be discharged.. My left nostril leaked so much blood it covered the pillow. Scabs formed to close the bullet wounds on both sides of my face.

I was then transferred to a psychiatric ward. The experiences I had there and the people I met I will remember for a lifetime. It was a fascinating cross-section of humanity. There was an 18-year-old redneck father-of-two (!) who, during a group therapy session where we were asked to find coping methods to deal with depression, yelled out "GO TO A SHOOTIN' RANGE!". The head nurse on the ward constantly quoted One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest. There was a woman who believed she was "powerful reincarnation of an ancient druidess". Another man had been a highly successful local restauranteur before meth addiction and mental illness took away his life. A slight, blonde former nurse who after a failed relationship, stabbed herself in the liver and trachea.

The library was meager, but I read John Muir's First Summer in the Sierra and lost myself in snowy mountain peaks and the spray of waterfalls. I made myself popular by giving out palm readings in the day room and was correct approximately 80% of the time. I described one man's temperament as "fiery", which he correctly understood to mean he was an asshole. The ancient druidess asked for a reading but spent most of the time telling me about her myriad other reincarnations (respectively, killed in the Holocaust, killed in the Victorian era, killed in the medieval era). An old former nurse–not the blonde lady– came for a reading and it was so accurate she got teary-eyed; we soon became fast friends. She was elderly but sharp as a tack and had worked her whole life in the profession; through the 70s and 80s. She had never married, although she wished she'd had children. She had been a sci-fi writer as well and had a wealth of advice for me, one being that you should never become a nurse. Nursing had ruined her body and left her wheelchair bound.

My roommate was a quiet woman who barely said two words to me the first day and spent most of her time staring at the wall and sleeping. The therapists could not crack her in the least. By the second day we fell into a card game with each other, and little by little she lit up and started smiling. When she laughed it was infectious. She, I and the elderly nurse spent long hours in the day room, playing cards and watching television and laughing with each other. The night before we were discharged, we were up late, and she confessed her terrible circumstances, her life in foster care, her husband who had molested her children, her trafficking, and her upcoming court hearing so she could claw back custody of her children. A flash of contemplation passed her face, and she said to us, "I have talked more with you than I ever have with any of my therapists." I still have her and the nurse's numbers.

The therapy I was given and the connections I made were overall wonderful and affecting experiences. I left the ward looking forward to meeting the world headon, but when I got out, things grew worse. My mother withheld my medications and electronics and blamed me for everything; wanted me to go to a halfway house (thankfully my father let me stay with him permanently). I was on the verge of filing a police report before she gave them back. And then I realized I was being kicked out of the house. To walk into your room and realize it is not your own anymore, to see your belongings packed up and ready to be stored away or sent back with you, is a jarring experience; to have your eyes go to a familiar place and have it be so alien.

Then she said those words that made my heart drop to my stomach: That I was writing awful, dark things for an audience and that she was completely ashamed of me, and that she thought that it contributed to my decision to end my life. (and also that I was "posting sarcastic comments online for ego strokes"--wtf?) She had gone through everything private of mine, everything I strived to keep separate from my real life identity for this very reason, and told God knows how many people. All for nothing now.

Few things can compare to the horror of having a loved one finding out the deepest, rawest, most honest parts of yourself and reacting with disgust. To have them point a finger at your most delicate personal works and say, "This is responsible for your attempted suicide," when writing had brought me nothing but delight, happiness and friends at some of the darkest times of my life. Part of the reason I love writing was the lack of restraint and escapism, and the idea of being someone else. How could I possibly return to writing knowing that someone was constantly judging me and looking over my shoulder? How could I write honestly, without constantly second-guessing myself?

Anyway, my mother wanted nothing to do with me and threw me out with my father once I got my belongings. The last thing I said to her was "Next time, I won't miss." C'est la vie and that's the end. I'm officially disowned now and cutting off contact. No clue where I stand will-wise, but I don't care anymore.

We got in the car and went home. As my mood sank, I was tempted to do the unthinkable and I gave some serious thought to deleting my account and works. The thought of my mother (and potentially other family members too) reading these stories of mine in all their graphicness was a crippling prospect. It also occurred to me that she had started packing my room up when I was still in the hospital, and that finally made me cry. I wondered whether she was the same person who loved me and hugged me and protected me as a child, or she was the same person all along and I just never noticed.

When we got home to my dad's farm I was shaky and unfocused and my mind was in a dark fugue. But it was a bright and sunny August day. As soon as I got out of the car my cats poured out of the fields and out of the barn to surround me, meowing and excited after a week of not seeing me, Spot and Zorro and Aldous and Erik and Gidget. We're glad you're back. We're glad you're here. Beings that didn't judge me, that I didn't have to explain anything to or justify myself to, that just were happy that I existed.

As I felt the sunlight on my shoulders I started to cry again, but they were tears of relief. How could I have tried to kill myself when a moment so beautiful existed? Things will look up. They always do.

I love writing and I will never, and can never, stop.

#personal #writing

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two-crabs · 1 year ago

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Adventure for Amity, Kiss for Lemon, Friend for Maudlin!!!

<3<3<3 under the cut bc this got wordy lol

ADVENTURE: What was your OC’s first adventure? Is it something they’d call an adventure? How did they feel about it?

If you asked Amity what her first adventure was she would tell you about how when she was 15 she spent a month in Belgium with a Distant Aunt™ and had all sort of plans to have a hot Lizzie McGuire Movie summer until it turned out The Aunt lived in the middle of nowhere so she mostly spent it traipsing around the Belgian woods and looking at Belgian cows and sheep practicing her French EXCEPT for one day when The Aunt had a migraine Amity snuck out and caught a train to Ghent where she got rained on, lost an earring, had a really disappointing coffee, and then went back home. (What she's doing now is not an adventure. It's just Toronto.)

KISS: What was your OC’s first kiss like? Who was it with? Do they remember it?

(This is cheating you already know about Lemon's first kiss.)

"Well this buddy of mine...Varden and me...we were just shootin' the shit right? We was out in the woods, trekkin' out on our own for a minute, decide to take a breather one night. Killin' time. Drinkin' a little, smokin' a little more than a little...and uh...well it's safe to say that V was a little stressed at the time, bit tense, bit pent up. Nothin' a lungfull of the good old Lagamorpha leaf won't help. And well, all a'sudden he goes from leaning up against this big old tree we'd found...to leanin' up against me. Lookin' up at me like....well. Shit. If you'd been in my position, you'd've been hard-pressed not to kiss him. And the rest is history I s'pose."

FRIEND: Who was your OC’s first friend? How did they meet? What was their friendship like? Are they still friends now?

Maudlin didn't grow up with a lot of other kids, but they were very close with their mother and very fond of everyone else on the housekeeping staff, but I don't think they made their first real friend until they were on The Abandon. Like a child who finds solace in the nurse's office, Maudlin got close with Dudko first after visiting him for his sea-sickness and sunburn remedies, then for comfort in Maudlin's grief, and then for conversation while he practiced his work on every available square inch of Maudlin's skin. Theirs was a sort of foxhole friendship that Maudlin misses, but is so inextricably connected to the horrors of the ship that they find it difficult to be nostalgic for it.

#amity #lemon #maudlin #oh lemon how i miss lemon

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liminalpebble · 1 year ago

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Eddie's Education: Chapter 4

Masterlist link

Minors DNI

As Eddie's van trundled through the heavy curtains of rain, he'd run out of things to say, so he was fidgeting instead, heart ready to thump out of his chest.

He didn't like the dark, the rain, the thunder storms; not after the crimson lightening and deafening thunder claps of the upside down, not after trekking through the cold endless nights of terrain like sinewy tar pits as his wounds stung with every step, always running on adrenaline and fight or flight, desperately seeking an exit. It was still hard to believe that it was all real, but if he ever doubted it, he could see and feel the scars to remind himself. Actually, he used to enjoy the night time most of all, and watching thunderstorms under the awning with his Uncle Wayne, swigging coffee from one of their many collected mugs and shootin' the shit until well after sunset, but those were more innocent days. Now just the vermilion wash of a stoplight gave him shivers, reminding him of that red-flashing sky.

Of course, his heart was also thumping from nerves, worried about his tutor; someone he was hoping to consider his friend (though he wouldn't dare get his hopes up for more). She was so quiet sitting there beside him, an expression of defeat drawn over her dark almond-shaped eyes like a curtain. She seemed so soft and so small, balled up in the passenger seat with her head against the window. He was dying to hold her.

As he pulled up to the spot outside her building and cut the engine, he heard sniffing and hiccuping just barely beneath the slashing din of the storm, and turned to see her sobbing.

“Oh...hey hey hey!” he prattled, suddenly forgetting his fears. He twisted in his seat to face her and fished his bandanna from his pocket, handing it to her.

“Thank you. I'm so sorry, Eddie. I'm being a baby,” she gasped out, rubbing her eyes with the soft cotton. “Thanks for the lift. I'll see you Thursday.”

“Hey!” He said holding her arm gently. “I'm not gonna let you go off to cry your eyes out alone, sweetheart. You've listened to me enough. Talk to me.”

“I shouldn't. I'm already on thin ice.”

“Leia, look at me. I won't tell anyone. I promise. Get it off your chest.”

Looking into his guileless brown eyes, she knew he meant it to the core. “I just...I've worked so hard to get my Master's, to be a good teacher and...and be taken seriously and it's just never enough. I've jumped all the hurdles in record time...tried to live up an insane standard, even though all my life no one had much faith in me. I get talked down to like a child. I'm up to my eyeballs in student debt,” she looked around and shrugged “and I don't have anything or anyone here in the ass end of nowhere...no offense,” she quickly added, worried that Eddie might take her comment personally.

“Nah, don't be sorry. You're right. This place is a shithole.”

She let out a little bark of laughter at that, wet eyes meeting his.

“I just feel so alone. The way people look at me here, like I'm an alien...just because I don't have a last name they recognize, or because I don't give a fuck about the local teams making the play-offs...”

“Or because you'd rather sit home reading Tolkien than going to the games,” Eddie added.

She knit her dark brows together in confusion. “How did you know I like Tolkien?”

He turned beet red. “Oh...Uh...I saw The Silmarillion on Book Mountain the first day.”

She laughed again, and it dislodged a few more tears, about to drip from her chin, onto her clothes. Without thinking, Eddie reached over to catch them, stroking them off her chin as he cradled her cheek. His eyes went wide with panic as he thought, oh fuck...oh fuck...that was weird, Eddie. That was a weird thing to do. You shouldn't have done that. Even as he thought this, he realized, to his horror that his hand wasn't moving from her face. In fact, she had closed her eyes, relaxed, her thick black lashes glossed with tears, lips and cheeks rosy from sobbing. He felt a little guilty thinking that she looked so pretty when she cried, that her skin felt so soft, and her lips looked so delicious, like a ripe wet apple. Her shoulders slumped in relief, leaning into his touch.

This feels so good...so right, Leia thought; the way the callouses on his fingers grazed gently over her jaw in little soothing strokes, as if he was terrified to hurt her with his rough hand. The cool smooth metal of his rings calmed her flushed skin. Then her heart sank as she thought, but it isn't right. It isn't right to lean on him. I'm the teacher, he's the student. I would be abusing my power.

“Sorry!” they yelped to each other simultaneously after being lost in the moment, as if they both touched a hot stove.

“It's just there was a little...” Eddie stammered.

“It's okay, Eddie. Thank you,” she said, smiling as she reassuringly patted his forearm, which was now bare without his jacket. With a start, she remembered that she was still wearing it and said “Oh...here you go,” passing it back to him.

“You sure, sweetheart? It's still coming down out there.”

“It's fine...it's fine. I'm like two steps from the door. Thank you Eddie, for listening...for everything.”

“No problem...it's nothing,” he said with a little dismissive wave. “Anytime, seriously...oh here,” he said grabbing a scrap of receipt and a pen from the littered dashboard and scribbling his phone number”.

“Eddie...I can't...”

“Seriously, call me. You shouldn't be alone in this town. There are other weirdos like us if you know where to look. Hawkins is your home now. It should feel like one.”

She nodded, tucking the little slip in her backpack, then looking him in the eye. “Goodnight, Eddie.”

He let out a breath he didn't realized he'd been holding as he said, “Goodnight, Miss Vespero.”

She giggled at that, and in a flash she was out the door, and in the lobby of her building, waving to him. He waved back, giving her a big silly grin which would be plastered to his face the rest of the evening, and most of the next day.

@sunflowerdaydreamer

#eddie munson x ofc #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

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hvbris · 1 month ago

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𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

Violet was relieved that her dad believed her, even though she hadn't shown him any of the proof she had yet. She knew it was odd, that only one night had passed for him, while six months had passed for her. But he believed her all the same. She hugged him tight, enjoying the way his voice sounded, with his thick New York accent.

"I believe you too," she promised. Violet knew that, as weird as this all was, it wasn't impossible at all, considering who was behind her travels. "Time didn't pass the same way for us. It's probably one of the Horned One's tricks." She didn't realize that her dad didn't know yet that He was the one sending her on these travels.

"I'm ok, I'm not hurt," she assured him with a little smile, "Dad, you woulda' loved it there! It was like a Western movie, you see. Like the whole country was stuck in 1810, but it was 2024 for 'em, too. Oh, and there were monsters everywhere! T'was no secret there, not at all. Everyone knew about 'em and fought 'em."

She was rather excited to tell him all about her cowboy adventures and didn't realize that she was rambling now. "Your counterpart, he was a Sheriff!" she immediately told him, "and mom's counterpart, she was real good at fightin' monsters. They took care of me, durin' those six months. We traveled to San Francisco, to find the other Baudelaires. We rescued 'em and everythin', brought 'em back to New York!"

"So many things happened! I fought a barn monster, and I fought Sloane too -twice! I've gotten real good at shootin', now! I could hit a Crawlin' Horror with my eyes closed!"

Theo watched her worriedly as she processed what he was telling her, while his mind battled with his internal doubts he was quite convinced he was right and his Violet, the one right beside him, had indeed been speaking with him just 14 hours ago before bed. Had she not explained to him previously about her travels in her sleep he might have even thought her mad as she revealed her story... in a Southern accent.

"I believe you," he reassured her, he would always believe her when she talked about such things, even in his own doubt it was her word that would win out. "Six months is a long time but we really did speak yesterday, about Heather coming over for a sleep over next week." He remembered the topic just fine given it had only been a few hours for him as opposed to six months!

What had she been doing?! Where had she gone and what had she seen? Theo searched her face, worrying about a scar she mentioned and that she had brought things back with her. Before all that though, he landed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her back into a hug. It had only been one night for him but it had been six months for her, she must have been terrified. "Are you ok? Are you hurt?" She so often came back with cuts and bruises, he didn't know what to think six months might have done! "What happened?"

#&(killian beneventi)#violet (there's no happy endings)#multipleoccupancy #delta green verse #read at your own discretion

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2moromikay · 1 year ago

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" The Night "

Horror

by Iza

One day her cousin recently moved here from Leyte. On a recent road trip exploring Manila, we were shootin shit and exchanging ghost stories and laughing at similarities and differences between province and city ghost stories and province ghost stories when I asked her.If she's ever experienced anything supernatural. Her eyes widened as she averted her eyes to the window. Just when the silence was about to be too much for me,she softly responded "Yes. A few. One is troubling"

When she was a second year in college, She stayed at in an all-girl apartment she made many friends. They are all very happy to be in school away from our conservative parents The apartment was so much fun but it was a very very old building. Electricity was only put in the rooms. Sometimes, candles were placed along the windows if a watchman was present, but normally once you left the rooms, you were faced with complete darkness.It's common to wake up someone if you needed to walk down to the restroom at the end of the hall. They all had a childish fear of being alone in the dark.

One night, she had to use the restroom. It was about 4am. She went to her friend's bed and tapped her on the arm. She immediately opened her eyes as soon as touched her. She apologized for bothering her, and told her needed to pee. She could not see her at all, but her bangles clanked together loudly and the bells on her anklets jingled softly. It was very calming. She smiled at me and hopped out of bed. All the way down the hallway, she laughed and danced. She laughed and sashayed my hips down the hallway with her. too tired to match elaborate arm movements. She said nothing to me, though occasionally. She heard hum one of their favorite songs The same thing happened on our return. I fell back asleep easily. She awoke fairly late the next morning to the sound of men in our room. They surrounded her bed. I bolled from my bed, prepared to protect my friend, when she realized they were administrators of the college. She peered over closer. Her friend's Sheila eyes were fixated onmy bed; the same smile on her face. Suicide.Her time of death was 11:30pm, almost 5 hours before I woke her.

#horror #short story #flash fiction

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racointeur1 · 2 years ago

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YOU DON’T REMEMBER WHO YOU WERE BEFORE THIS. then again, have you, richard tozier, every really known yourself at all? somewhere beneath the punchlines & the impressions that never really shift away from your own voice lies a scared little boy, and you don’t know if that’s a new version of yourself. one carefully crafted and forced upon you by the one who had invaded your mind & resurfaced memories you hadn’t even known you had. ones of darkened sewers & clowns with razor sharp teeth & a group of kids scared just as shitless as you were. ( you are! you still fucking are, richie! )

when you think too hard on it, you come to the conclusion that it could be just who you’ve always been.

RICHIE TOZIER, the kid with a mouth that worked five times faster than his brain, shootin’ words out left and right and saying damn the consequences.

RICHIE TOZIER, the kid with a secret, a real bad secret. one the clown knew, one that vecna had knew, the one @wizardslays knows best of all.

HE KNOWS YOU INSIDE AND OUT, just like they do. the difference? THAT WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO FUCKING TERRIFY YOU!

it hadn’t for a while. ever since that shift from friends to something more, that week in california that’s engraved into your memory ( a day at the diner now tainted by vecna ), you had been embracing these feelings. even if it was only will who knew. you didn’t fucking care. he made you feel good. safe. secure. sane. everything he doesn’t make you feel right now.

warmth has been replaced by something colder. it should be expected, right? with a recovering broken arm and fucked sight now completely fucking fucked, you were bound to come back different. when you’re around will now, you feel fucking sick. you’re suddenly on the outskirts of castle byers all over again, his arms around you, the world around you black and the taste of salt & iron heavy on your tongue as you scream for him to help you, do fucking anything to stop the pain overtaking you. he had apologized, and it had made your blood run cold the second you were aware enough to realize what it had meant. you don’t know �� how the fuck it’s possible for that asshole to still have a hold on will. thought you’d know will enough to realize if that thing had never really detached, but you hadn’t fucking known then either, huh, rich?

you didn’t even want to fucking be here. in fact, when your mom had been pretty insistent on the idea of you staying home & all but swearing off your friends, you actually wanted to fucking listen to her! that stupid goddamn nagging voice at the back of your mind had been your downfall. this isn’t over, and as much as you hate this, as fucking afraid as you are, you’re still involved. you have to help end this, and that means facing will to save him too as painful as it is.

the cabin feels much fucking scarier when it’s not packed with the entire crew, when the night’s coming to a close and everyone’s tucked away in their respective places. it’s just you and will on hopper’s couch, reminiscent to that thursday night in california when some horror flick had been playing and you cared more about fucking with william than the movie and he cared more about kissing you than anything else. the thought would’ve made you smile any other time, made you crack a joke and grab his hand, steal a quick kiss before anyone came around.

this isn’t california though. this is hawkins, and you can’t watch a horror movie when you’re living one. can’t steal a glance at will when you can’t even see. can’t reach for his hand when the very thought of touching him makes you want to fucking recoil.

the silence is almost deafening, the air thick and heavy, and it’s when you hear will shift beside you that you stand. “fuck, i need to call my mom to come get me before she sends a fucking search party after me.” voice cuts through the air, and you go to make a move until you realize you don’t know how to navigate this space yet. before you can stop it, will’s hand is taking hold of you and the beat of your heart picks up. you know he’s looking at you, that feeling is in your fucking bones. “y’gonna help me to the phone, william? can’t just stand around all night.”

❝ please stay. i don’t think i can be alone tonight. ❞

OKAY, you want to say. you really fucking do. it’s on the tip of your tongue, a desire so strong you could choke on it. when ya ask all nicely like that, william, my dear, how could i ever say no? IT’S NOT WILL. not all of the time. not when you needed him most. so, you swallow down that desire like a tough fucking pill and you shake your head. “my mom’s going batshit fucking insane over me right now, will. you know that. c’mon. show me where the phone is.”

#wizardslays #.⠀⠀*⠀⠀ ☀︎ ⠀⠀⁺ i do the best imitation of myself ‚ richard tozier .#.⠀⠀*⠀⠀ ☀︎ ⠀⠀⁺ weird but fucking beautiful ‚ wizardslays + will & richie .#i am so ill.........#ask to tag /#long post /

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pumpkinpie59 · 2 years ago

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What musicals the 2012 cast would love most

This was in part inspired by @fabuloustrash05 ‘s post about her Renet headcanons, where she mentioned that Renet likes historical musicals. You can find it here.

Anyway, since I am a theatre performer myself, I decided to associate some musicals with the rest of the TMNT cast. Enjoy ^^

Leonardo

“When I drive

When I drive

I'm in love, I'm alive

And I forget about everything I hate

When I drive

I can read 65

I won't pay the long, long line

They'll always be behind

And man that just feels great”

If you were to ask him, he’d claim his favorite is Singin’ in the Rain (which I’ve been in btw). It’s funny and a total blast to watch (though ... the movie is better than the stage show). But in reality, his favorite is Bonnie and Clyde. You cannot convince me otherwise.

Raphael

“Always you, every thought I'll ever know

Everywhere I go, you'll be

All the world is only

You and me!”

Like Leo, he also doesn’t tell the truth about his favorite musical. He claims his favorite is Phantom of the Opera. An easy choice, and everyone believes him because it’s just as dramatic as he is lmao. But his favorite is West Side Story. I mean, c’mon, it has gangs, violence, and at its core has a mushy love story. He will not admit he likes it as much as he does.

Donatello

“If only you could know

The things I long to say

If only I could tell you

What I wish I could convey

It's in my every glance

My heart's an open book

You'd see it all at once

If only you would look”

He seems like a Disney fan. You’d think I would’ve chosen Beauty and the Beast, but nah. The Little Mermaid fits him better (I’ve also been in this show). He’s so insecure about not being human, and he’s also from a big family with an overprotective father, so I think he’d relate to Ariel a lot. Plus she’s a redhead so there’s that lol. Maybe a bit on the nose, but I don’t care.

Michelangelo

“We're a notorious couple of cats

As knockabout clowns, quick-change comedians

Tight-rope walkers and acrobats”

Yeah, he’s a Cats fan. I think he’d love how artistic and chaotic it is. His brothers probably hate it, which only makes him like it more lmao. He hated the movie.

April

“You can build me up, you can tear me down

You can try but I'm unbreakable

You can do your best, but I'll stand the test

You'll find that I'm unshakeable”

I kinda see April as the kinda girl to like the most popular musicals rather than obscure musicals, and I also wanted to choose one that was about strong women. I considered Wicked and Legally Blonde, but Six seemed most appropriate. Also, she’s my queen, so why not choose the one about queens pfft

Casey

“Flashpots are shootin' bright as the sun

I'm one highfalutin' sonuva gun!

Don't ask me how

Fortune found me, fate just crowned me

Now I'm King of New York!”

Casey’s favorite is Newsies. It just seems so freaking obvious. Plus, the love interest is a journalist, so do with that what you will.

Karai

“Home, Love, Family.

There was once a time

I must have had them, too.

Home, Love, Family,

I will never be complete

Until I find you...”

Like Leo and Raph, she also lies about her fav musical. She says it’s Little Shop of Horrors, and she does like it. The Dentist song cracks her up. But her favorite is Anastasia because it hits close to home. See lyrics above. She also lost her real family at a young age, and didn’t know the truth until she was 16. (Also, Anya is my dream role. I got to see the show on tour!)

Shinigami

“Gotta haunt till it hurts

Through the night

And give those guys the fright of their lives”

Shinigami gives me Beetlejuice vibes. I don’t know what else to say about it.

Mona Lisa

“Tranquil as a forest

But on fire within

Once you find your center

You are sure to win”

It’s my headcanon that Mona loves movies once Raph introduces her to them, so I think she’d like movie musicals more than stage musicals. Her favorite is Mulan. As a soldier herself, she respects how the film takes war seriously while still having uplifting and even funny moments throughout.

BONUS:

Lotus Blossom (my 2012 version)

“A new dream

I have one i know that very few dream

I would like to see that over-due dream

Even though it never may come true”

Jekyll and Hyde is a musical about murder, the duality of man, and tragic romance, all things that appeal to Lotus Blossom, an assassin with difficult experiences in romance. (Jekyll and Hyde was my favorite musical back when I first got into TMNT, too! Still is a favorite.)

#tmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #april o'neil #casey jones #oroku karai #tmnt shinigami #tmnt mona lisa #tmnt lotus blossom #pumpkin stuff

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when-witches-go-riding · 4 years ago

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This is a side blog to feed my obsession with all things related to Autumn, Halloween, and Spooky Vibes in general.

Here you will find fics, aesthetics, pictures, stories, and content related to Autumn, Halloween, October, Witches, Vampires, Werewolves, Devils, Ghosts, Hauntings, Murderers, All Things Dark and Macabre, and Everything Similar. Adam Driver content also makes an appearance. All writing and stories are ADCU content only.

Main blog @safarigirlsp

Knight blog @its-knight-time

Pictures @lady-legris

18 + Only

My horror and Halloween related fics below the cut

Jacques

Sinners Welcome - Exorcist Jacques x Reader

Drink of Me - Vampire Jacques Le Gris x Lawyer Reader

Belle Avocate - Vampire Jacques x Lawyer Reader

A Sharpened Wit

The Black Forest

Kylo:

Kylo the Malevolent - Victorian Magician Kylo x Magician Reader

The Witch - Knight Kylo x Witch Reader

Krampusnacht - Knight Kylo x Witch Reader

Heart Shaped Box - Knight Kylo x Witch Reader

Outrun the Devil - Lawyer Kylo x Reader, Sleepy Hollow AU

The Devil Made Me Do It - Devil Kylo x Flip x Reader

Is Your Soul for Sale? part i - Vampire Kylo x Reader

Is Your Soul for Sale? part ii - Vampire Kylo x Reader

A Dance with the Devil - Vampire Kylo x Reader

Forever - Vampire Kylo x Reader

Ben:

Mirror, Mirror - Possessed Ben x Reader

Flip:

Ghost Town - Gunfighter Flip x Reader

Bad Moon Risin’ - Werewolf Flip x Lawyer Reader

Road Trip

Disturbin’ the Peace

Howlin’ for You

Everything A Big Bad Wolf Could Want

Fixer Upper

The Devil Made Me Do It - Devil Kylo x Flip x Reader

Shootin’ Gallery

Here Kitty, Kitty

Play By My Rules - Murderer Flip x Reader

Nobody Does It Better

Chase Me

Clyde:

Spooky Little Girl Like You

Pumpkin Spice

Wet Work

Nobody Does It Better

Charlie:

Spectral Evidence - Salem Witch Trials AU

Savor Each Sensation

Tricks before Treats

Something Sweet

Henry:

A Midsommar Night’s Dream

Carnival

Dan:

The Invisible Man

Crossovers:

Nobody Does It Better

Halloween Prompts

Halloween Ship Blurbs

Devils, Demons, Witches, Occult and Related Fic List

Graphics

Halloween Fic List

My Complete Masterlist

#autumn #halloween #my stuff #fics #aesthetics #witchy #vampire #devil #knight #haunted #murderers #werewolf

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azk-the-horror-aus · 2 years ago

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Already I'm already getting so fucking tired of this account so have some fucking Alucard content to make you happy bitches

@puppyclownz @softie-flaky15

#alucard pico's school #pico's school #pico's nightmare #horror night shootin #pico's school DAY!au #the DAY! in PSDAY!AU means 'Death Awaits You' btw #artists on tumblr #horror au #horror #tw body horror #cw body horror #ps #friday night shootin #pico's school LCA!au

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sundropskiesx · 3 years ago

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(ANDREW GARFIELD, HE/HIM, CIS MALE) careful , ANDRE HENDRIX has arrived to the city of dreams!! they look THIRTY-FIVE years old and word on the street is they are from BROOKLYN, NEW YORK and currently reside in GREENWICH VILLAGE. They are currently living life in the city as a BARISTA AT JAVAWOCKY CAFE. some people say they are IMPATIENT, but i think they are KIND HEARTED. welcome to the city of dreams, ANDRE! we hope you enjoy your stay!

FULL NAME: andre hendrix

NICKNAMES: boogaboo (his baby sister)

SEXUALITY & PRONOUNS: bi-curious

ROMANTIC STATUS: single

ZODIAC: capricorn

HOGWARTS HOUSE: hufflepuff with gryffindor tendencies

PETS: two sugar gliders named THELMA & LOUIS

HOMETOWN: brooklyn, new york

CURRENT LOCATION: greenwich village

OCCUPATION:barista at javawocky cafe.

ROOMMATES: none at the moment (wc)

TATTOOS & PIERCINGS: tattoo of a small moon on his right wrist, the upper part of his right arm has a pair of harry potter glasses and lighting bolt tattooed (usually hidden beneath a shirt), a sleeve of different horror tattoos on his left arm, and his right ear has two piercings.

MUSE INSPO:nick miller + winston + ferguson (new girl), dale denton (pineapple express, seth rogan), wallace + scott (scott pilgrim vs the world, that gossipy bitch),fred wesley (harry potter) , j.d (scrubs), ross (friends), gambit (x-men), a little bit of everyone (the office)

MUSIC INSPO: welcome to the party - pop smoke, dopamine -borns, lost in the citadel - lil nas x, one more night- maroon 5, wicked games - the weekend, cherry -harry styles, lovefool -two colors (cover), myself - bazzi, burn the night away - there for tomorrow, kelsey -metro station, here comes the sun -the beatles

backstory:

in north of brooklyn born and raised on the playground is where andre spent most of his day! shootin’ some b-ball outside the school when a couple of guys, they were up to no good, started causing trouble in the neighborhood. he got into one little fight and his mom got scared and said “ YOU’RE MOVING WITH YOUR DADDY & STEPMOM TO ILLINOIS” STOP THE THEME MUSIC AND CUE THE INTRO

andre hendrix, no relation to jimmy hendrix, was born into a somewhat strict but also laid back family. out of his cousins, and siblings, he was the most awkwardly charming one. where most people would shy away from an embarrassing situation, like falling in front of a group of people, andre embraced them. he never really was one to let life get him too down, as he always tried to be the sunshine in everyone’s world as much as possible.

growing up he used to get into a lot of fights because he would never back down whenever someone was either picking on someone else, hounding their siblings, or trying to mess with him. he may have a heart of gold, but his spirit was that of a warrior, even andre wasn’t afraid to throw a punch here or there.

college was a blast for him! there he met a friend who he would grow very close with. nothing ever happened with them, though andre always wondered about what it would’ve been like to at least kiss him. in college he also met the girl that would become his girlfriend for five years.

from the age of twenty all the way to the age of twenty-five the two had a honeymoon like relationship. andre gave her the moon and stars, and pretty much whatever else she wanted. and he truly did think they would end up married one day. he was actually a week away from proposing to her when everything changed for him one morning. to this day he still doesn’t know why she up and left, leaving behind a post it note saying ‘you can do better. xoxo.’ and an empty pregnancy box in the bathroom. was she pregnant? was she not? andre never found out and the question has haunted him to this day.

fast forwarding a couple of years down, many game, anime shows, and crime documentaries later the guy is now working as a barista in greenwich village. he sometimes helps out at backstage productions as a tech. for the most part he’s either at work or skateboarding at the nearest skate park. that or he’s hanging out with his bestie elijah ‘eli’ kennedy.

#dreamsintro #a very speedy intro because work #here is my goober son #sldkjf

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walkerwords · 4 years ago

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“The Bowman’s Sister” Part 3 of 4 - Daryl & Sister!Reader

GIF CREDIT: AMC

PART I PART II PART IV

Word Count: 3030

Daryl Dixon & Sister!Reader (Rick x Reader in future)

Warning: None

Song I Wrote To: “World Gone Mad” by Bastille

Note: I didn’t put a summary on this one cause it’s def a filler chapter. I don’t remember who exactly gets bit during the flu pandemic thing in the cell blocks so I made it pretty vague. All i really wanted to do here was touch on the friendship that is growing with Rick and (Y/N). The next chapter will have some violence etc since one eyed wonder makes a reappearance.

-------

You jogged down the stairs of the watchtower, passing Tyreese on the way as he headed for his shift.

You had finally convinced Carl to get some sleep after you kept finding him hiding away in the tower in the middle of the night. He agreed to let you keep watch as long as you taught him to use a bow. You felt that was a fair trade so you had agreed.

You and the younger Grimes had bonded pretty quickly. He reminded you of how Daryl was as a kid. Always running around getting into trouble and making sure everyone was okay. You could tell he was developing a hard exterior but still had that childlike innocence when holding his baby sister or tending to anyone who was hurt. He had a lot of his dad in him and you figured the rest was his late mother and those who were helping to raise him.

You decided early on that Carl Grimes would be someone you’d lay your life on the line for and not just because he was a kid. But because he was one of the only good ones left in the world.

Walking back towards the cell block, you ran into Rick. He was coming out of D when he spotted you. He gave you a quick wave as you made your way over to him. “Another late night?” he asked, fatigue weighing on him clear as day. Since the run that you, Daryl, Glenn, and Rick had gone on, you had noticed that he was distancing himself a bit more here and there. When you asked Daryl about Rick’s odd behavior at times, he just shrugged and told you that sometimes the new world screws with people. You decided not to push it further.

“Just tryin’ to earn my keep,” you said to Rick, stretching out your shoulders. Rick nodded, looking past you towards the main yard.

“You’ve been staying out late a lot lately,” he said. “Sleep is actually a good thing, you know?” he joked. You chuckled slightly.

“Yeah, but if sleep won’t come, no point in tryin’ to force it when I can take over for someone who actually needs it,” you pointed out.

“Like my kid?”

“He’s not invincible even if he thinks he is,” you said, tilting your head up to look at the night sky.

“Thanks,” he said. You look back to him. “He doesn’t listen to me much anymore, so it’s good you can get him to get some shut-eye.” You shrugged off his thanks.

“Boys his age are always rebellin’,” you said, “I doubt that’s gonna change in the Apocalypse.” Rick laughed, running a hand through his messy curls. The two of you started to walk. You didn’t have a particular destination in mind, but you didn’t care. It was nice to just be outside, safe, and having a conversation. You talked about everything from what the two of you did before the Turn to why he decided to use a prison as their new home.

“It wasn’t easy,” Rick said, “We slept in the main field the first night. Cleared it of Walkers and then dealt with the rest of it the next day.”

“You know what? I’m surprised more people didn’t think to head to a prison in the first place. Or at least an abandoned one,” You said. “Hey, I bet Alcatraz is a hit right now.” Rick laughed at your joke, smiling wide.

“It is on an island,” he pointed out.

“Exactly. Do you think Walkers can swim?”

“Oh god, I hope not,” Rick said, eyes wide in mock horror. “That’s the last thing we need.” You laugh, trying not to imagine Michael Phelps going full 2000 Olympics while gnashing his jaw.

“Where did that word even come from? Walker?” you asked, remembering how weird it was to hear that first night in the cell block.

“I heard it shortly after I woke up in the hospital,” Rick explained, “A man, Morgan, he saved my life and that’s what he called it when he shot it in the street.”

“Hospital?” you asked, confused.

“Yeah, I was shot before this all happened,” he said, gesturing around. “I was in a coma and didn’t wake up. My partner tried to get me out, but he had to go save Lori and Carl, make sure they were safe. He thought I died, you know?”

“I would have thought the same thing,” you said, “you’re a lucky son of a bitch. Must have been terrifying waking up to all of this.”

“It was...disorienting. I thought I was in Hell. Then when Morgan explained to me what was going on, I couldn’t believe it. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes…” he trailed off. “But then I met Glenn in Atlanta and he brought me back to my family.”

“Crazy how sometimes you just meet the right people at the right time, isn’t it?” you said, looking at him in the dark. He looked at you and smiled softly.

“Yeah, it is,” he was quiet for a moment before he noticed the ring that was still on your finger. You twisted it around with your thumb absently. “You know, if you ever want to talk about him, I’m here,” he said, gesturing to the ring.

“Thanks,” you said. “It’s funny, I haven’t actually spoken about him since he died. Nobody to talk to and I know that’s why Daryl worries about me. He doesn’t get why I don’t want to talk about them, but I just don’t know what to say. It’s not like I can change anythin’.”

“No, but maybe the more people who know about them, can help keep their memory alive,” Rick offered. You thought about it for a moment before nodding, more to yourself than him.

“Thanks, Rick,” you said. He reached over and squeezed your shoulder briefly. “And that goes for you too,” you finished. He let out a breath and nodded as well, already understanding what you were offering. “You know, being out here, it reminds me of when Merle was locked up the first time,” you said, changing the subject.

“The first time?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah, my big brother was the biggest pain in the ass. Especially when it came to the county sheriff,” you laughed. “The first time, he and Daryl were being idiots as usual. I was at school, I think, and the boys decided to race motorcycles down by the tracks. Merle’s moronic friends were tryin’ to get Daryl to steal a bike nearby. I think it belonged to some kid that was a few years older than Merle. Daryl, of course, wanted to do it so he seemed cool in front of Merle’s asshole ‘friends’, but big brother said no and that he would be the one to do it.” You smiled as you thought about the day you got the call from Daryl who was concerned about the whole thing. “Turns out the owner was actually home and the bike was a lot more expensive than everyone first thought.”

“And let me guess,” Rick interjected, “Merle broke the bike.”

“Along with three bones and a bunch of other property damage and that was before he even got back to the tracks,” you said with an exasperated sigh. “Dad was pissed and since Merle was eighteen, he got charged and booked. I took Daryl to go see him while he did his time. Never liked bein’ near jails. Pretty ironic I’m living in one now.” You laughed quietly to yourself, but then you realized Rick was quiet. You looked at him, trying to see his face in the dark. “What is it? Am I really not that funny?” you tried. Rick cracked a small smile before it disappeared again.

“No, that’s not it,” he said before taking a deep breath. “I guess it’s just weird hearing about your brothers when they were younger.” Rick rubbed the back of his neck before glancing at you. His face was solemn and something was clearly bothering him. “I’m sorry about Merle.”

“That wasn’t your fault, Rick. Daryl told me what the Governor did,” you told him, but he was shaking his head.

“No, not about...not about that. I’m sorry about leavin’ him in the first place,” he said, but you were confused.

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“Daryl didn’t tell you about what happened in Atlanta?” you shrugged.

“He said y’all got separated after you ran into a large herd. Daryl said you went back for him, but you couldn’t find him. I’m surprised you even did that, from what Carol and Glenn said, Merle was very...Merle while stayin’ with ya.” Rick nodded, keeping his eyes on the ground.

“It was my fault,” he said softly, the toe of his boot digging into the gravel.

“What was?” you asked, your voice low as well. Rick finally looked up at you and that weight was even heavier in his eyes. “Rick, what happened?”

“Merle was out of control,” he explained, “he was shootin’ Walkers on the rooftop, the shots bringing more and more towards the building we were in and he was just runnin’ his mouth. Kept mouthin’ off to another guy we were with, using slurs and whatnot.” You sighed at the information. You knew Merle could be a complete asshole, especially if he was using, and based on what Rick was saying, that was definitely the case. “He got into a fight,” Rick continued, “he was gonna get us killed so I handcuffed him to the roof, to one of the pipes. When we went back to get him before we left, one of the men, T-Dog, he dropped the key and…”

“You had to leave him,” you finished. Rick nodded, his hand coming up to rub at his brow.

“We went back for him, I swear,” he said, his eyes never leaving yours, “but he was gone when we got back up to the roof. He had cut his own arm off to get out of the cuffs. He made his way out of the city and we didn’t see him again until Woodbury. I’m sorry, (Y/N), if I hadn’t of cuffed him to that roof, he may have been alive right now.”

“Or he would have pissed someone else off and gotten himself shot or gotten too high and stumbled right into a Walker,” you told him. “I loved my brother, with everythin’ I had, but I wasn’t blind to his idiotic tendencies. Daryl either. We both knew how reckless and stupid Merle was. Hell, if I had been on that roof, I may have done the same thing. You were fightin’ to survive, you don’t have to apologize for that.” Rick stared at you in complete awe.

“How can you be so...okay with all of that?” he asked. You reached out and took his hand, giving it a tight squeeze.

“Because I know you didn’t intend to leave him to die. I can tell you that much. I’m rather good at readin’ people,” you said with a small smile.

“Because you’re a shrink?” he asked, his shoulders dropping a bit more.

“Because I pay attention and I know who’s good and who’s not and you Rick Grimes, are one of the good ones,” you said. “So, don’t apologize. At least not to me. You have to start thinkin’ about what’s next.”

“And what is next, (Y/N)?” he asked.

“I haven’t quite figured that out,” you said, letting go of his hand, “but when I do, I will make sure to tell ya. Deal?” He nodded.

“Sounds good to me, Dixon,” he said with a smile. You smiled back and before you said anything else, a scream echoed from the cell blocks. You and Rick looked at each other before taking off towards the block. Rick pulled his gun as he ran and you cursed yourself for only bringing your knife with you. You pulled it from your belt as your boots pounded against the ground.

You both reached the block just as a Walker stumbled out of a cell, it’s face covered in fresh blood. Two more followed, reaching for your friends as they fought them off. Stabbing the closest one in the head, Rick shot the others that reached for a scared woman.

It was chaos in the prison as people screamed and the Dead rose. The noise only agitated the others that pressed against the fences outside. In the dark, you split off from Rick, searching frantically for your brother. You didn’t know if he was on watch or if he had gone off on his own. You were just praying that when you found him, he would still be breathing.

You ran through the corridors, looking for Daryl. The gunshots from the block had finally calmed down, but you could feel the fear in the air. Your mind raced as you tried to think of ways that the Walkers could have gotten into the block. You and Michonne had just checked the tombs that morning, securing the entrances. Then there was the fact that the individual blocks were always locked just in case.

Gripping your knife, you ran back down the hallway and pushed through the metal door, exiting into the night air. Suddenly, something grabbed your arm and you raised your blade, ready to drive it home. “(Y/N)! Stop, it’s me!” your arm froze as you focused on Daryl. He was breathing heavily as he looked at you. You relaxed, pulling him into a hug. He hugged you back, squeezing you tight.

“You okay?” you asked as you stepped back, checking his exposed skin for bites.

“M’fine, you?”

“Yeah, just a bit out of breath,” you said. “What happened?”

“Looks like some kid got sick, died in his sleep. He turned and bit others.”

“Our own people were the Walkers?” you asked, sheathing your knife.

“Ya,” he said with a frown.

“Shit, that’s rough,” you said. Daryl nodded in agreement, before grabbing your arm. “What are you doin?” you asked as he dragged you toward the administration building. “Daryl?”

“How do ya feel? Ya feel sick?”

“No, I feel fine. Where are we goin’?”

“Whatever is goin’ on, I’m not lettin’ you get it,” he said as he pushed into the building. Carl was already there, holding his baby sister.

“So you’re taking me to an abandoned hallway?” you asked, confused.

“We need meds,” he said. “Till we get em’, yer stayin’ in here,” he said, finally letting you go.

“You’re puttin’ me in quarantine?” you asked, your brows going high.

“Damn right I am,” he said, handing you his spare gun. “Ya never had a good immune system to begin with. I ain’t takin’ any chances.”

“Daryl‒”

“Nah,” he interjected, “yer gonna listen to me for once, (Y/N). Don’t try to play big sister right now. Just do this one thing for me and stay here, alright?” You wanted to argue, but then he said something that made you shut up. “I can’t lose you like I lost Merle.” You sighed and nodded.

“Okay, Daryl,” you said, moving the loose strands of hair from his face. “I’ll stay with Carl,” you promised. “Just come back in one piece,” you said, already knowing he would be one of the first to volunteer to go look for the meds they needed. Daryl nodded and kissed your forehead. He then turned to Carl.

“Watch out for my sister, kid,” Daryl said. Carl nodded, standing up a bit straighter at Daryl’s words. He squeezed your arm once more before leaving the building and locking it behind him.

“Guess it’s just you and me, Grimes one and two,” you said, sliding down against the wall. You sat, letting your legs stretch out in front of you. Carl joined you a second later, carefully resting Judith in his lap.

“Shouldn’t it be Grimes two and three?” he asked.

“Nah, you two are definitely the top two Grimes in my book,” you said with a small smile. Carl smiled up at you before playing with his sister’s little hands. “Don’t worry about her,” you said, easily reading his expression, “she’s a lot stronger than she looks. She’s gonna be fine.”

“How do you know?” Carl asked, his voice a bit smaller than usual.

“Didn’t Daryl tell you?” you asked, gaining his attention, “I’m psychic,” you whispered. Carl rolled his eyes but laughed nonetheless.

“Maybe psycho, but not psychic,” Carl joked. You placed your hand on your chest in surprise.

“Wow, Grimes, never thought you’d be so cruel. I don’t know how our friendship can survive this.” Carl snorted at your words.

“Didn’t realize we were friends,” he said, still smiling.

“And I didn’t realize your daddy never taught you to be nice to people who teach you valuable skills,” you said, nudging his foot with yours.

“I’ll work on it,” he said just as Judith yawns.

“I agree with her,” you said, leaning back and closing your eyes. “Judith has the right idea.” You then felt Carl shift next to you, leaning into you and putting his head on your shoulder as Judith lay across both of your legs. You didn’t open your eyes as you sat with the Grimes children. Your lack of sleep lost the battle with your worries about Daryl and the sickness that had come to the prison and soon the three of you were sleeping peacefully.

At the end of the hallway, Rick peered in through the window and watched as you held onto his kids, protecting them and offering them security. He wasn’t the best at trusting people in this new world, but he liked you and liked your spirit. It was easy to be your friend and he loved how easily you and Carl bonded. He only hoped that you would be around for them and Daryl.

However, unbeknownst to him, things were going to get much worse and very soon and it wasn’t just a virus that crept up on the prison, but an enemy that lay in wait.

#the walking dead imagines #the walking dead #the walking dead imagine #twd #twd imagine #daryl and sister!reader #reader insert #walking dead prison #walkerwords

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the-one-mrs-koutaro · 3 years ago

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OKAY HI

Here’s a lil bit about me!!!

I WANNA BECOME A FAMILY PHYSICIAN!!!

im chubby n proud!!!

into cinnamontoastken, buffpro 😍, jacksepiceye, pewdiepie, n that one youtuber I can’t remember the name of

CONCRETE JUNGLE WERE DREAMS ARE MADE OF (I live in nyc bonk)

MY PFP IS FROM THAT GOLDEN STATUE SHOOTIN’ AN ARROW FROM THE MET

AND I LIKE ANIME (jjk, mha, haikyu, one piece, hxh, tbhk)

AND I LIKE WEBTOON TOO (LORE OLYMPUS , phase, BLUECHAIR , EVERYWHERE & NOWHWEW, safely endangered, MEME GIRLS, LETS PLAY, adventures of god, my deepest secret, NOT SO SHOUJO LOVE STORY, nice to meet you, blades of furry, I’m the grim reaper, men of the harem, CLINIC OF HORRORS, lost in translation, jeffs disorders, THE BOXER, THE REMARRIED EMPRESS, the witch and the bill, the little trash maid, CRUSH3D, DOWN TO EARTH, luff, freaking romance, HOLY CRAP THATS A LONG LIST AND RHOSE ARE JUST THE RLLY GOOD ONES)

AND BTW I LIKE HISOKA (cocky mf 🙄)

I DONT IDENTIFY WITH ANY ALT SUBCULTURE BUT YES I LIKE I LIKE ALOT

MAMA MIA N CHICAGO AWOOGA

anyway, cant think of anything else (have a nice day/night)

#webtoon #youtube #anime #musicals

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

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A New Era of Gods and Monsters (Indruck)

Prompt for the 21st was: Monster Movie. Behold my old hollywood AU, featuring a title from the Bride of Frankenstein and a universe in which Transphobia doesn’t exist by the Hayes Code does. It is NSFW

February 20th, 1935.

Tinsel Town is abuzz with news that promising young director Joseph Stern is starting work on a new horror picture. The latest announcements from Kepler Studios state that it will rival the director's previous smash monster chiller “Nightmare Woods.” No news as of yet as to who will star, and who may be donning greasepaint and false fangs to play the creature. Only time will tell, but we look forward to whatever terrifying delights he has in store. Assuming, of course, that he does not run afoul of the censors.

“Homoeroticism!” Stern tosses the warning from the Hayes office onto his desk, “that's what they sent me a warning about Ned! There wasn't even any in the picture.”

“You know how these modesty police are, dear boy; they see depravity where there is none yet are so out of touch they do not recognize the very things they're afraid of when they are present. Now that you’ve been scolded, how do you wish to proceed?”

“In whatever way won’t get me fired. There's a fine line between the kind of censor uproar that drives publicity and the kind that the studio heads think is too risky.”

“As your producer, I support you entirely in whatever you choose. And I'm happy to apply my considerable eloquence to soothing the concerns of those who sign our paychecks.”

Stern flops down in his desk chair, staring at the almost complete script in a tidy stack.

“If we’re going to gamble, the more big names I can get the better. I think it’s time to call in my favor from Amnesty Pictures. After that, well; if they’re going to complain about homoeroticism, we may as well give them something to really complain about.”

----------------------------

A month later, Stern sits at a large table in the studio meeting room, the bulk of his cast already thumbing through their scripts and chatting quietly to one another. Some of them, such as Aubrey Little and Moira Redfeld, are contract players to Kepler, ones he snatched up for this picture before anyone could interfere. There are also two on loan from Amnesty, a trade off for the time he and Ned worked their Hollywood contacts to help Mama, the studio head, raise money to fund the film that put the studio on the map.

His own relationship with Mama’s right hand man, Barclay, who acted as their go-between in those early days, may have helped his case.

The first player on loan is Dani Coulice, who’ll play Aubrey's dear friend and confidant who accompanies her to the house of her mysterious uncle. Dani has an understated charm on screen and, judging by the eyes she’s making at Aubrey, the two women will be able to pull off the romantic subtext he needs them to with ease.

And then there’s Indrid Cold. His first appearance in The Smiling Man drew quick comparisons to Claude Raines, Bella Lugosi and, more importantly, to the great Lon Chaney. Not only does the actor design and apply his own character make-up, he embodies his monsters and murderers in a way that leaves the audience hiding beneath their covers for days.

Stern knew the moment he and Kirby began working on the script that no one but Indrid Cold could play the titular Dr. Nacht. Now all that's missing from the table is…

“Sorry I’m late Joe. We ran long shootin the sword fight.” A southern drawl and apologetic smile announce the entrance of his other leading man. A man who's trained for years under two mentors to follow in their footsteps as swashbucklers, knights, soldiers. The man who is often described as destined to save the day, regardless of the picture.

When you wanted a monster, you got Indrid Cold. When you wanted a hero, you hired Duck Newton.

Which is why Stern remains surprised that Duck took this role so readily. He wants him for it, thinks he’s just the man to balance Indrid's aloof, otherworldly demeanor. But this time, his character won’t emerge triumphant.

---------------------------------------

Duck cannot fuck this up. It’s a goddamn miracle Joe offered it to him at all, given that he’s never done horror before, the studio not wanting to waste him on something so strange. There was a time when Duck would have steered clear of it too, but he trusts Joe, and the rest of the cast is strong. And the leading men in these pictures are never the heroes Duck is used to; they’re scientists, good men in over their heads, soldiers carrying the mental wounds of the war. They’re something new.

The only thing that worries him is Indrid Cold. Amnesty Pictures is known for darker, more daring fare than most studios, and Indrid always seems to be in the mix. His reputation is one of eccentric artistry, something Duck has little patience for.

It’s been alright so far, the first weeks mainly getting costume tests and memorizing lines, and Indrid is polite but aloof. When Duck mentions this to Dani, she takes her eyes of Aubrey long enough to shrug, “He’s up in his own head a lot, he doesn’t mean anything by it.”

Today they’re shooting the arrival of his character, Henry Harper, at the lonely country estate of Dr. Edward Nacht. The doctor is Eliza’s (played by Aubrey) uncle, and she’s traveling to stay with him along with her dearest friend, Lucy (played by Dani). Henry and Eliza are ostensibly betrothed, but the script makes only the barest mention of it, putting Duck opposite Indrid and Aubrey opposite Dani in most scenes.

Joe’s instructions are to play Harper as a classic, bland, heroic lead for the first third of the film, and he gets himself into that headspace as they take their positions.

“Now remember, Aubrey, you’re the only one who’s even little used to your uncle's mannerisms, so you should be genuinely happy to see him. Right, here we go, action!”

The trio pretends to startle at the massive mansion door shutting on its own, turning in sync to look behind themselves.

“That’s the trouble with these old houses; they have a mind of their own.”

Indrid stands at the top of the staircase, eyes uncovered for the first time since they met. Head held high, dark suit contrasting with his pale hair and sharp features, he grins at them as he descends the steps. It’s commanding and unnerving, the actor managing to convey something odd lurking beneath his veneer of gentility.

Aubrey runs to greet him, saying her lines as Dani and Duck trail behind her. He only ends up at the right mark thanks to watching Dani from the corner of his eye; the rest of his attention is locked on Indrid.

“This is my dear friend, Lucy Price.”

“Wonderful to meet you, any friend of my niece is welcome in these halls.” Indrid takes Dani’s and, kissing it with a friendly smile.

“And this is Mr. Harper, my finance.”

The smile widens as Indrid offers his hand, Duck taking it as the blocking dictates. There’s a beat where Indrid guides it upwards, as if intending to kiss it. Then he stops, shaking it instead.

“A pleasure to have you here, Mr. Harper. It seems my niece shares her mother's fine taste in men.”

It takes him a moment to remember he’s not supposed to stand transfixed.

“I look forward to gettin to know you, doctor.”

Indrid steps back, still grinning, “if you three will follow me, I will show you to your rooms.”

“Cut!”

Christ, that was awful, he should have played that more confident, more in control-

“That was perfect Duck, just the right approach.”

“Oh, uh, thanks Joe.”

“I must admit I am pleasantly surprised.” Indrid adds.

“How so?” Duck looks up at him.

“Simply that quipping whilst swinging a sword about does not always result in someone who can convey complex emotions on screen.”

“Now wait just a fuckin second-”

“I, ah, I was trying to be complimentary.” Indrid almost sounds like he means it.

Duck crosses his arms, “Oh yeah? Then I guess I oughta say I’m impressed a fella who runs around covered in monster make-up most of the time can actually emote.”

“That was uncalled for.”

“You started it.”

“I did not mean to start anything!”

“Gentlemen, if we could continue with our shooting” Ned’s voice cuts in and Duck turns to see half the soundstage string to them.

“Uh, right, sorry. Always get little, uh, tense on the first day. Right, Indrid?”

Indrid rises n unimpressed eyebrow, “Where shall we take it from?”

----------------------------------------------

It doesn't get better after that first day.

Duck tries, he really does, and he can tell Indrid is doing the same. But the longer they work together, the more often they snap at one another in between scenes.

“What were you two arguing bout now?” Aubrey says as they walk to the parking lot one evening.

“We, uh, well he, uh, huh. I can't remember.”

She shakes her head, “Yep, that's what I thought.”

They’re third of the way through the shoot, and it's going on ten at night, Joe trying to get as much done as he can before another picture borrows the set for two days.

Duck and Indrid are the only actors remaining, working on the scene where Henry, having agreed to help the doctor in his work, confronts him over the nature of the experiments. Once they finish this scene, they’re done, but Indrid keeps tripping over the word “indomitable.”

When he fucks it up for the fourth time, Duck drops his head into his hands, “fuck’s sake, it ain’t that hard.”

“That’s rather rich coming from someone whose accent ought to have rendered him obsolete at the advent of talking pictures.” Indrid replies dryly.

“Fuck you.”

Indrid straightens up, ready with a retort, when Joe shouts for them to retake their places and try again.

“You are meddlin with forces you don’t understand, doctor. Forces that are a mystery for a reason.”

“Do not underestimate me, Mr. Harper. Man is far more powerful, far more capable than scholars or priests would have you believe.” Indrid steps towards him, voice cool and smile detached, “we are no better than beasts if we cower in the shadows of ignorance, never daring to dream of what may be within our reach. Man was meant to question, Mr. Harper, meant to search and create. Man is indomitable.” His grin brightens not only from correctly pronouncing the word, but as part of the scene; because Duck is hesitating, won over for an instant by his speech.

Duck shakes his head, “Dreams and questions are all well and good, but they all come to nothin if you barrel forward without a thought for the harm you might do. No, doctor, while we're here, I forbid you from such experiments. I won’t have Eliza in such danger, nor will I risk her losing her remaining family.”

Indrid cocks his head, amused, “You forbid it?”

Duck tilts his head up to meet his eyes, “I do.”

His back slams into the laboratory counter, Indrids hands gripping it on either side of him.

“Perhaps I have been unclear, Henry. I am the master here, not you.” Slender fingers grip Duck’s lapels, tugging him nose to nose with Indrid, “you would do well to remember that.”

“Cut! Perfect, thank the lord, so we can finally get out of here.” Joe’s voice snaps Duck back into the soundstage, but Indrid hasn’t let go, is instead eyeing Duck’s face, tongue coming out to wet his lips.

How long has Duck been breathing this hard?

Indrid release his hold, smoothing down the front of Ducks jacket. He frowns, “You’re shaking. Are you ill?”

“N-nope.”

Unconvinced, Indrid touches his forehead, “You feel rather warm. Please tell me you are going home rather than out to paint the town?”

Duck wants to tell him to mind his own damn business. All that comes out is, “Yeah, might just straight sleep through til Sunday. You rest up too, y’hear?”

Indrid smiles, “I will do my best.”

---------------------------------------

“Catching up on some correspondence?”

Duck sets down his pen as Indrid sits at the lunch table across from him, “My sister moved back out to West Virginia not that long ago, and I promised I’d keep her up to date on everythin goin on out here.”

“Is she younger or older than you?”

“Younger by four years. You, uh, you got any siblin’s?”

“No. I was raised by my aunt and uncle, so I have a cousin instead. Here, I think I might have a picture.” The taller man pulls out a notebook, flipping through it, “ah, there he is.”

“Christ, if I couldn’t see the smudge up there, I’d think that was a fuckin photo.”

“Thank you.” Indrid dips his head, tucking the notebook back into his jacket pocket, “I mostly keep that on me in case I am struck by a new creature design, but it has other uses.”

“Where’s your family from?”

“Germany, originally, then the Salinas valley.”

“Told it’s real beautiful up there.”

“It has its moments, fewer now that they’ve found oil.”

“What’s your favorite?”

Indrid tells him, talks about the nearby mountains and traveling down to the coast, about hitchhiking his way to Los Angeles because he felt foolish asking for the money for a bus ticket when most of the family thought his journey was pointless.

“Sure proved them wrong.” Duck nudges his ankle playfully under the table.

“I suppose.”

After that conversation, Duck likes his days on set even better. The chair reading “Indrid Cold'' is now next to his more often than not, the two of them running lines or talking about gardens and art between takes. They bring in a black cat--meant to be the doctor’s pet-- for several days of shooting, and Indrid laughs whenever Duck picks it up and coos over it, smile fading to a gentle, shy expression when he catches Duck looking.

And when Joe instructs them to brush hands, or let their gaze linger too long on each other during scenes, Duck hopes they’ll have to do take after take.

Today the set is full of excitement, as it’s the first time Indrid will appear in his full monster make-up; he’s shot two scenes in shadows, hinting at the horror of it as he takes innocent life on the moors. Now, Duck will enter the laboratory and see first hand the results of the doctor’s experiments.

“Action!”

Duck steps into the darkened room, equipment flashing and test-tubes billowing smoke.

“Doctor, there’s been another death in the village, and you’re the police are asking for your help. They say it’s like nothin they ever seen before.”

Heavy footfalls and the scrape of nails on metal signal Indrid’s approach, but he’s not to turn until the actor speaks.

“Doctor, can you hear me?” He looks around, worried, then calls hesitantly, “Edward?”

“Hello, Henry.”

He turns and yells in fright, hand flying to cover his mouth. Where there once was an elegant, odd figure, now a massive nightmare looms out of the darkness. Indrid’s mouth stretches wide, curve fangs protruding from either corner, face coated in bloodied, feathered scales, and claws reaching for Duck.

“Edward what” he staggers backward,s “what in god's name have you done?”

“What I set out to do, my dear Henry. Can you not see that?” Indrid giggles with the hysteria of a man consumed by bitter disappointment, “perhaps you should come closer.”

“Stay back, I’m warnin you-”

Indrid lunges, snarling, and Duck throws himself out of the way, hitting first the edge of something sharp and then the ground

“Fuck!”

“Cut!”

“Oh dear, are you hurt? Here, let me help-”

Duck holds up a hand, gritting his teeth, “You stay right where you are. Fuck, christ,” the hand gripping his leg comes away spotted with blood, “what the fuck, that wasn’t in the blockin!”

“Joseph said he trusted me to improvise my movements, to maximize the tension.”

“You gotta fuckin warn me about shit like that, all my movement is backwards, meanin I can’t see where I’m goin.”

“I assumed a man who made his living fighting knew how to use his peripheral vision.”

“How bad is it?” Dewey, one of the camera men, helps Duck up as Stern approaches them.

“Give there’s a bloodstain on our set, enough to send him over to the medical office. I'm calling it for the night . I’ll see you both tomorrow.” Joe runs a hand through his hair, levels them both with a warning look before turning back to dismiss the crew.

It’s not all that bad once he’s out of the torn pants and gets it cleaned off. When he gets back to the dressing room to retrieve his coat and hat, there’s a large black case, like fisherman's tackle box. It’s what Indrid calls his toolkit, full of the tools and tricks he uses to turn himself into a monster. He once called it his most prized possession.

Duck switches off the light, has the door halfway shut before he stops. Groaning in frustration at his own decency, he turns and grabs the box from the floor.

-------------------------------

“This had better be important” Indrid calls through the apartment door, “I must go back out for something and do not have time to waste.”

“Wouldn’t happen to be goin out for your toolkit?” Duck says dryly.

The door flies open, revealing Indrid in a black dressing gown, face a bit pink, no doubt from scrubbing off all his monster make-up.

“Yes.” He snatches the box away by it’s handle, hurrying over to the table and leaving Duck in the doorway, “you didn’t touch anything did you? Or show it to anyone else?” His head whips over his shoulder, red glasses slipping down his nose to reveal a hard, suspicious glare.

“No, I didn’t touch a damn thing.” Duck steps over the threshold, shutting the door and tossing his hat onto the couch, “and you're welcome.”

Indrid inhales deeply, “I, I apologize. The tricks I developed, my techniques, my materials, practically all of it is in this box. If someone else were to get hold of it, replicate my effects, my career would be over.”

“What are you talkin about?”

The taller man sighs, turning his back and heading into his bedroom, “I do not expect you to understand.”

Duck is ready to tear his hair out, stalks into the bedroom after him, “Fuck’s sake Indrid, do you think you’re the only fella here with the brains to understand shit?”

“That is not what I meant and you know it.”

“No, I really don’t. What do you want from me, Indrid? Most days you’re palin’ round with me, then you act like you think I’m some sheltered idiot who’s had everything handed to him.”

“Because you have” Indrids hands could be conducting symphony for how much they move s he continues, “you had mentors, people who told you from a young age that you had a place in this business, who carved out roles for you and handed down their skills, their legacies. I had nothing, I had to make my way based on skill and luck alone.”

“Were the fuck do you get off assumin that sort thing bout me? At lest you got some fuckin say in the way your career went. Minerva had it all planned out for me, hell, at the start I fought hard to do somethin other than those hero parts.”

The anger on Indrid’s face flickers, “Why did you stop?”

“Because I didn’t wanna end up with nothin! As you keep pointin out” he steps towards Indrid, jabbing a finger into his chest, “my kind are a dime a dozen in this town.”

“Which means you can get any part you choose! You are the kind of man everyone loves. God help me if horror ever falls from favor, I will be back in dust of the farmland in an instant.”

Duck growls at the sorry ploy for sympathy, “Bullshit, you’re better on camera than anyone in this town.”

“That doesn’t matter! For goodness sake, Duck look at me!” He gestures wildly at his face, “without my monsters, without horror, I'm nothing. Amnesty might try to help me, but they’d soon find that unless they can be terrified of me, audiences have no use for Indrid Cold.” Resignation tinges his voice, and it kicks Duck’s anger out from under him.

“Indrid, that ain’t true-”

“-No, it is very true”

“-will you let me fuckin finish?” Duck reaches for him, not certain what he means to do.

“I have no desire to-” Indrid moves his arm to push Duck’s away, and puts too much force behind it, losing his footing on the hardwood floor and falling backwards onto the bed. In attempting to recover his balance, one leg kicks out, knocking Duck forward. He catches himself with one knee on the mattress and his hands on either side of Indrid, pulling abruptly down on the dressing gown. When it opens, they both go still.

“You, uh, why ain't you wearin anythin under this?”

“I was not aware I need to follow a dress code in my own blasted house.” Indrid manages through grit teeth, face turned resolutely away from Duck. He follows the angle of his jaw down the line of his neck, the noticeable points of collarbone, ribs, and hips beneath tan, sun-hungry skin making him think of fine china or rare plants, the kind you cultivate for years in hopes of seeing something no one else could ever dream of.

“Would you kindly stop staring?” Indrid murmurs.

“Why?” Duck drags his gaze away from his body just as Indrid levels him with an exhausted frown.

“Fine, go ahead and get your fill so you can--in excruciating detail--tell anyone who is interested that I look just as strange without clothes as I do in them.”

“Is that really what you think I’m doin?”

“I have a hard time believing there could be...another..” He trails off s Duck leans down, cupping his cheek and bringing his other leg up to straddle him.

“You sure about that belief?” He bumps their noses together.

“I'm starting to have my doubts.”

Duck snickers, carefully bringing their lips together. Indrid hums, wrapping his arms round Duck and running his hands along his back up into his hair. He’s kissed plenty of times, on and off screen, but Indrid is earnest and hesitant all at once, as if Duck is giving him a gift he’s not sure he deserves. He’s also wonderfully responsive, twitching and arching whenever Duck touches him, licking and nipping at his lips, begging to be let inside. Duck opens them, sighs when Indrid teases their tongues together.

When he sits up, Indrids hands draw across his bare chest, concerned.

“Don’t worry, darlin , I ain’t goin far.” He slides off the bed, sinking to his knees between Indrid’s legs s he pulls off his jacket, “Just seems to me you need someone to show just how fuckin handsome you are.”

“Are you oh-so-graciously volunteering?” Indrid’s smile is plain in his voice.

He pushes up his sleeves, “Yep.”

Indrid’s cock is soft when he wraps his fingers around it, stroking up gradually to rub the head with his thumb. Licking along the underside turns Indrid’s so “ohs” into a full-throated moan.

“That’s more like it, darlin.” Duck kisses up and down the shaft , slipping a hand lower to gently toy with his balls, “get hard for me.”

“Wh-what” Indrid gulps down a breath, “what makes you think you are in charge here?”

In lieu of an answer, he takes the head of is cock into his mouth, sucking hard, not letting up until pre-cum seeps along his tongue. Indrid’s hands cling to the edge of the bed, the room filling with high gasps and the odd squeak when Duck zig-zags his nails along his inner thigh.

He pulls off, wiping away the string of spit trailing from his lips. Laps intermittently at his slit as he speaks, hoping his voice is coming across husky rather than desperate, “Well, sugar, what do you say? Gonna let me call the shots?”

“I s-say” One hand wavers in the air, about to stroke his hair, and Duck dips to the side, bumping his head into his palm in tacit permission.

“I say a man on his, his knees giving orders is presumptuous.”

“Ah!Fuck” Duck groans as Indrid tugs his hair, forcing him to sit up straight.

“And I’d say his mouth could be put to an even better use.”

Duck scrambles onto the bed, kissing Indrid furiously as soon as he reaches him, the pale-haired man rolling them over and tangling them both in the top blanket with their feet still hanging off the bed.

“Did I say you could stop paying attention to my cock? OOhhnnnn, yes, yes” he hooks a leg over Ducks thigh, pumping into the shorter man’s fist, “perfect, god, everything about you is, is just right.”

“I ain’t the only one.” Duck aims for his lips, ends up kissing his cheek, when he buries his face into his neck with a whine.

“It’s true. You think I go to my knees for any old fella?”

“Mphhm” Indrid’s glasses dig into his shoulder.

“You think I’d be doin this” he speeds up his hand, “if that face of yours didn’t make me wanna do things in front of those cameras that’d make the devil blush.”

“Mmhpmm” Indrid clings to him like lichen yet refuses to look up.

Duck stills his hand, “I ain’t startin up again unless you answer me, sugar.”

Indrid raises his head halfway, five o’clock shadow pricking Duck’s cheek.

“Duck Newton, I do believe you are telling the truth. You think I am handsome.” Shyness lurks just beneath the teasing, so Duck tenderly brushes his fingers along Indrid’s face.

“That I do.”

He raises up enough to bring them nose to nose, “And I think you put all other matinee idols to shame with only your smile.”

“Indrid.” It’s his turn to blush, and he only grows redder when Indrid guides his hand off his cock and to his lips to kiss it.

“I have an idea. As much as these” he releases his hand to snap his suspenders, “flatter that broad chest of yours, they and your pants need to come off.”

As Duck exiles his clothes and shoes to the floor, Indrid lays with his head on a pillow, steadily stroking his cock. Staring at that sight adds a good minute to his undressing, but Duck doesn’t give a damn.

When he goes to straddle Indrid’s hips, the other man shakes his head, “Nono, up here.” He pats the pillow on either side of his head.

“Shit yeah, been wanting to fuck that stunnin face for weeks.”

Indrid’s face is beet-colored by the time Duck brackets it with his knees.

“S-so have eye”

“Aw, sugar, you gettin tongue tiIIIIedfuck.” His palms thwack into the wall as Indrid circles it along his folds.

“What was that about tongues?” His smirk is just visible between Duck’s thighs.

“That if you don’t keep usin yours like that, you’re gonna see a grown man cry with need.”

“We cannot have that.’

“FUuuuuck, fuck.” He wiggles his hips to help Indrid get the right angle, unsure if he can ask for more pressure.

“You, you can put more weight down if you need.”

He grinds down, moaning when Indrid’s lips part further to give his tongue more room to work. The moan is echoed below him, muffled though it may be, as one of Indrid’s hands disappears from view. A moment later, he bucks, gasping and laving his tongue along Duck’s dick.

“Shit, right there, keep goin right there.”

Indrid curves and flicks his tongue along the sensitive skin, hums of pleasure mingling with the messy sound of his hand flying up and down his cock. When he closes his lips around his dick Duck yelps, hunches forward to rest his head on the wall as he sucks him off, pressure spiking deliciously whenever he moans or strokes himself harder. Indrid cums with a whimper, sticky hands landing on Duck’s ass to urge him on as he ruts into his mouth.

“That’s it sugar, fuck, you’re amazin, feels so fuckin good oh fuck, fuck, Indrid, fuckin christ.” He rolls his hips harder and faster until the friction makes the orgasm burst through him. He just manages to lift himself off and collapse on the bed rather than Indrid's neck.

“Did, do you hear a, uh, a crack?”

Red glasses, a split across the right lens, appear in front of him.

“Aw fuck” he giggles, “didn’t know I was goin that hard. Lemme buy you a new pair?”

“I have several spares, on account of my own occasionally absent mindedness” Indrid is up on his side, grinning down at him, face still shiny with slick, “and I am taking that as a testament to my skill. Perhaps I should wear them with pride to the set tomorrow.”

“Please don’t” Duck laughs harder, “fuck, can you imagine the look on Joe’s face”

Indrid is laughing too now, “They are not part of my costume, it would not affect the shoot. Save the part where the reminder of how you looked just now, flushed and ecstatic above me, would make it rather hard to focus.”

Duck shifts onto his side, nestling up against him, “you’re a real sweet talker, you know that?”

“You have that effect on me.” He feels him inhale more deeply, fingers toying with Duck’s hair, “would, ah, would you like to spend the night? I believe you are not needed tomorrow, and I am only needed in the evening.”

“I’d love to” Duck nudges him onto his back to better cuddle across his chest, “got no interest in sleepin alone any time soon.”

“Do, ah, do you mean you wish to, ah, to-”

“Yeah, I do. I wanna see what it’s like to have the finest man in the city on my arm. Assumin he wants the same thing.”

“You do not think I am snobbish and strange?”

“Not anymore than you think I’m spoiled and had it easy.”

Indrid kisses the top of his head, “Then I think this could be the start of something wonderful.”

--------------------------------------

Stern looks up from the script as his two leading men walk onto the set, arms linked and whispering to one another, each smiling wider than Laurel Canyon. He turns back to his notes.

“About fucking time.”

#indrid cold/duck newton #indruck #promptober #movie star au #old hollywood au

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