#i love pee-wee's big adventure
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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 10 months ago
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here's something short and goofy for you guys bc this song has been stuck in my head all morning.
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“So, Eddie?” Steve asks while he, Robin, and Eddie are lounging around Family Video on a slow Tuesday afternoon.
“Yes, Stevie dear?” “Where did the ‘Big Boy’ thing come from?”
Steve watches as every bit of Eddie freezes under his gaze. 
“Uh..”
“Yeah, I’d like to know too, what’s up with that Munson?” Robin says, leaning forward on the counter beside Steve, pushing all of her right side into Steve’s left.
Poor Eddie.
“Oh, uh, well
” Eddie’s brow furrows for a moment before something seemingly comes to him in a moment. “You know how loud the rumor mill can be, Steve-o.”
“Whattya mean?” He knows what he means, he just wants to see what Eddie will say. He also knows It’s gotta be a tortuous question for the metalhead, especially one who’s crush is the one asking him. 
That was the other thing; after Eddie’s accidental pain-med induced schmoozing of Steve and the prompt forgettening of ever saying anything, Steve (and Robin) had come to the conclusion that he’s super into Eddie too.
Now it’s just a matter of getting Eddie to admit it, and having fun flirting and making him squirm a little in the meantime.
“Well, the phrase itself is from a song, but you do know your lovely conquests would talk, right?” The blush on his cheeks just makes him look cuter.
“And you believed them?” Robin states more than asks.
“Well there’s no way I’d ever know one way or the other!” Eddie laughs, his cheeks darkening.
Ignoring the myriad of things he could say to that, Steve instead asks “What song?”
“Huh? Oh, uhm, it’s from this random tape that Wayne picked up on the road a couple years ago. Has this weird art on the cover of some guy and like, skeletons and stuff? Dan something? It’s all yellow-y orange and blue..”
“That sounds so familiar
” Robin mumbles when Steve asks, “How does it go?”
“What?”
“The song.”
“Uh
” Eddie zones off into the distance and starts mumbling to himself.
Robin is still mumbling to herself too, “That sounds so familiar, what the hell?”
Eddie presumably finds the lyrics then, because he starts singing. “Big Boy, real cool, you can tell he’s no one’s fool, And he tries so hard to come off like a star.” Eddie starts dancing around in front of the counter, “You can tell by the way he combs his hair, by the cocky grin and that moody stare. By the way he leans and juts out his hip...” He sings, pointing at how Steve is doing exactly that.
Steve laughs, waving him off, “Okay, okay, I get it! You can st—”
“Elfman!” Robin calls out suddenly.
Steve and Eddie share a look. “Who’s an elf?”
“The Dan guy from your song, Elfman? Was his last name Elfman?”
Eddie snaps his fingers at her, “That’s it! Danny Elfman!” “The guy from Oingo Boingo!”
There are a few beats of silence.
“Don’t look at me like that, he’s the singer in Oingo Boingo! My parents love their stuff, and they did that song in Weird Science!”
“Which song?”
“..Weird Science.” she says as if that was obvious.
Something clicks in Steve’s head at the name, too. “Wait, I know I've seen that name somewhere else...” He rounds the counter and toward the shelf he knows the tape he's thinking of lives; it’s a goofy movie, he’s watched it before on some of his long solo shifts and it’s honestly kind of grown on him.
He grabs up the first copy he sees, one of the Family Video plastic clamshells, and brings it back to the counter, popping the tape into their tape player.
The opening credits start up, and at the title card: “Oh hey, Pee-Wee's Big Adventure! I love Pee Wee!” Eddie says, excitedly jumping up to sit on the counter in front of the TV (and Steve).
“Yeah you do..” Robin mumbles.
“Shut up,” Steve grumbles, elbowing her a bit harder than necessary, “Look.” he points up to the text on the screen. 
“Damn, this guy’s everywhere!”
“‘Music composed by Danny Elfman’. Holy shit! Good memory, Dingus!”
“Thanks! Now what is this about Eddie loving Pee Wee?”
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ducktracy · 1 year ago
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saw "75 influences in 75 seconds" on Twitter and decided to give a go at it! i didn't realize how much print cartooning/fine art/still, non moving images had a stranglehold on me until making this! I'm inspired by so much and so fleetingly it's hard to make a list... still fun to make!
#apologies for the sound inconsistencies :') ok time to list them all. YA READY?#The Great Piggy Bank Robbery. SpongeBob. Spike Jones. It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World. Laurel and Hardy (Way Out West). Camp Lazlo. It's a#Charlie Brown Christmas. Popeye (Let's Get Movin'). The Music Man. Baby Bottleneck. Anchors Aweigh. Rocko's Modern Life. Time for Beany.#Chowder. Blazing Saddles. Porky Pig's Feat. Singin' in the Rain. Dixieland Droopy. Jim Tyer animation. I Love Lucy. Busby Berkely (Dames).#MST3K. Ren and Stimpy. Meteor on the Ring. West Side Story (Gee Officer Krupke). Nichijou. Pee-Wee's Big Adventure. Legend of the Forest.#Mouse in Manhattan. The Lady Said No. Airplane. The Alvin Show. An American in Paris. The Daffy Doc. Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.#A Christmas Story. Dumbo. Beany and Cecil. Safety Last. What's Opera Doc. It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Three Little Bops.#Thank Your Lucky Stars (Ice Cold Katie). The Simpsons. Ed Edd n Eddy. It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World x2. Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends.#It's the Cat. The Parent Trap. The Powerpuff Girls. The Nutty Professor. Sittin on a Backyard Fence. The Andy Griffith Show. Rooty Toot Too#Snow White. The Gold Rush. It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown. King of the Hill. It's a Wonderful Life. It Happened One Night. Ojamajo#Doremi. The Bad News Bears. Cartoons Ain't Human. Gold Diggers of 1933#Peter Chung/Rugrats pilot. Top Cat. Wet Cement. Varsity Girl. Frank Tashlin (Who's Minding the Store). Kitty Kornered. The Three Stooges.#Tex Avery (Dumb Hounded). Felix the Cat (Whoos Whoopee). Pee-Wee's Playhouse. Slick Hare#*COLLAPSES*#vid#flashing tw
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gowns · 1 year ago
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if you liked the barbie movie but felt there was something... missing, i can recommend these movies
the brady bunch movie (1995) (what happens when characters from an artificial world end up in the modern day "real world"?)
the muppets (2011) (same question! and a playful advertisement for a media institution which re-invigorated interest in the brand. "am i a man, or am i a muppet? or a muppet of a man?")
the wiz (1978) (what does it mean to be "real"? what are you willing to risk to be real? also: real sets, real props, real song & dance numbers!)
gold diggers of 1933 (1933) (busby berkeley musical; you haven't seen true mind-blowing opulence in sets, costumes, and hundreds of people dancing at the same time til you see this)
but i'm a cheerleader! (1999) camp queer classic, lots & lots of pink & natasha lyonne)
watermelon woman (1996) (what does it take to succeed as a creative woman in a world that denies your humanity? what archetypes define you in film history? and can you acknowledge that and subvert that at the same time?)
desert hearts (1985) (a woman breaks out of the status quo and falls into a lesbian love affair in the desert <3)
gas food lodging (1992) (mother-daughter relationship stuff!! girls becoming teens and feeling disconnected from who they were as children -- but who are they now? and how can they find new common ground with their mom?)
enchanted (2007) (honestly super similar beats to the barbie movie except with more clear stakes!)
the tales of hoffmann (1951) (weird musical w/ a few stories, including man who falls in love with a human-sized doll! and great gowns, beautiful gowns)
pee wee's big adventure (1985) (you ever just want to have some fun and ride around on a cute little bike in a cute little outfit but everyone is against you for some reason?)
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bettyfrommars · 11 months ago
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I'm on Fire
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chapter 18: the ties that bind
masterlist playlist
18+ MDNI
If you've come this far in the series, you know what to expect. No physical violence in this final chapter, but there might be some jealousy, protective/jealous Eddie, and threats. Steve with an OC character, parental Stobin, unprotected sex, oral, and meeting the extended family. Can't say goodby without a glimpse of Charlene. Reader is an artist and a vegetarian, but I try hard to keep away from any physical description.
word count: 15k
official author's note will be at the end of this chapter. I cherish you, my I'm on Fire fam, I'm so grateful for the ride, and I hope you enjoy this one.
"It's a long dark highway and a thin white line Connecting baby, your heart to mine."
-- the ties that bind, Bruce Springsteen
The next morning, a new Henderson opened her eyes to the world. 
Steve was the next one to hold her after her parents, and he hadn’t expected to cry, to have his throat close up around his emotions and choke him when he was told they named her Stevie.  He held her so close but so gentle and he barely noticed how wet his cheeks were until Robin came close and rubbed her palm in circles on his back.
“She kinda looks like me. That’s weird right?” Steve hushed, voice catching in a tearful hiccup. He was already thinking of the tattoo he would get with her name, inside his arm, close to his heart. 
“Yeah, that is weird and impossible, Dingus,” Robin smiled into his shoulder, stroking a loving arc over Stevie’s little infant forehead with her finger.  “But she kinda does.”
The labor had been long, the sun was up, and everyone was exhausted.  Astrid was at the house making breakfast while you and Eddie looked after Oliver.  He insisted on watching Pee-Wee Herman's Big Adventure again, and that was when you learned it was one of Eddie’s favorites as well; he knew every line by heart.  He mimicked Ollie with the chant, “I know you are but what am I, I know you are but what am I?”
And it was only then that you realized why Eddie had made a joke once about violently cutting off your mattress tag, the one that specifically said DO NOT REMOVE. Also, it explained why Steve so ardently wanted to start his own biker gang called Satan’s Helpers.
After breakfast, Eddie took you back to the Hammer to get your car, and even though you didn’t want to socialize, you were also in no mood to be stranded at your place without wheels.  Jackie reminded you that you looked like shit on your way through the smoky haze from the late morning drinkers.  You simply nodded in silent agreement, and it wasn’t so much a nod as your head lazily bobbing on a spring.  Your internal clock was out of whack, and you desperately needed a shower.  A shower and a soak in the healing waters of some type of magical pond that could heal you from the inside out. 
Maybe a month on a beach somewhere.
And then you pictured Eddie in a pair of loud, tropical swim trunks and giggled to yourself.
You were just about to leave the locker room with your paycheck and a few of your things, when tall, blonde Erika pushed in with a concerned look on her face, making you back up.  She shut the door behind her and leaned against it, covering the “Safety in the Workplace” poster. 
“Hey, so, that guy is here looking for you again,” her whisper was urgent.
Your heart sank for a second as the memory of Craig gripped you.  You had to remind yourself that he was long gone.  
But you wondered if a part of him would always be lurking somewhere near, haunting you from beyond the grave.
Your next guess was Chief Hopper, maybe he had more questions for you.  
“What guy?” You were hoping she had a clue, or asked a name, so that you could prepare yourself, doing your best to smooth out the front of your shirt.
She only shrugged.  “He’s older, Paul Newman type. Smells like he’s made of money. This is the third time he’s been here asking about you.”
It still didn’t ring any bells, but you’d only slept a half hour on the couch curled up next to Eddie while Pee-Wee stormed the Alamo looking for his bike.  
You took a slow peek around the corner of the bar from the hallway and saw John Gregson sitting there with a drink in his hand. Full head of salt n’ pepper hair slicked back off his face, wearing one of his signature gray suits. 
Was he by himself?  The way Charlene had been popping up like a bad rash lately, you almost expected to see her there, playing the dutiful wife.  
You hid yourself in the hallway again, wondering if you had it in you to have a conversation with anyone, let alone him.
To say his face “lit up” when he saw you would be an understatement; He looked as if you’d been pulled from the rubble of a burning building, and he thought he would never see you again.  
You found it hard to match the enthusiasm, even though he’d turned out to be a decent guy.  
He stood up from his stool and Shana gave you both a curious look from behind the bar as she poured a shaken martini into a glass. She was wearing one of her long, black wigs that day with Bettie Page bangs.  
“It’s good to see you,” he gestured to the seat next to him, his icy blue eyes shone like the Mediterranean Sea. “It’s been a while.”
You sank one hip onto the padded stool so that one foot was still on the ground.  You didn’t want him to think you were staying for too long.
“I’m sorry I’m so behind on your painting, life has been—”
He put his hand up, palm out to you.  It was his left hand and you noticed that he was not wearing his wedding ring.  
“Please, don’t worry about the painting.  Take all the time you need, that’s not why I’m here.  Can I buy you lunch?”
“I-I
” you fumbled.  “I was just on my way out.”
“A drink then?” He cleared his throat and shifted closer casually so that his knee was touching yours. He swirled his drink in his hand.  “There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about and I didn’t feel it was appropriate to do it over the phone.”
Your anxiety spiked a bit, and it wasn’t as if he was a serial killer or anything, but his sudden shift in proximity gave you pause.  You asked Shana for an iced tea and gestured for him to follow you to one of the more isolated tables against the dark red wall, underneath a framed Led Zeppelin poster.  He pulled your chair out for you before getting settled with his gin and tonic, making sure to use one of the black cocktail napkins as a coaster. 
“I know you’re busy,” he cleared his throat. “So, permit me to get right to the point.” He removed the two stir straws from his drink and put them on the napkin.
 “First of all, I’d like to apologize for my wife. I believe she’s caused you quite a bit of trouble.”
You had not expected that one
His stare was too intense, you had to shift your attention and take a gulp of your drink.
“You see,” he settled back, keeping his forearms on the table.  “I met Charlene when I was barely out of high school, we were together before I made my money, and I always felt like I owed her my blind devotion.  Lately it’s obvious that we only make each other miserable.”
He continued.  “I’m not a stupid man. I always knew about the other boyfriends, not that she made much of an effort to hide it,” he smiled wryly to himself.  “Not to bore you with the details of my failed marriage, but I know that Charlene’s the reason you lost your job at the gallery, and I’d like to rectify that, if I can.”
Realization dawned at his words.  Why hadn’t you put those pieces together earlier? Of course Charlene was the reason you lost your job, she probably threatened to remove her funding and ruin Judith.  
You could barely catch up to what he was saying before he started again.  “I’m opening a gallery in Chicago, and I’d like you to come out and run it.”
You choked and had to cover your mouth with the back of your hand.  “Excuse me?”
John smiled so genuinely at your reaction that the skin around his eyes crinkled.  He undid a button on his suit jacket to get more comfortable. “You’d have full creative license, you’d be able to hire your team, do with it what you wish.  I trust your vision.”
It was that opportunity you’d been dreaming about for years, the one you’d been working toward for almost a decade.  
So easy, just like that.
Here, take it, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

but was it?
Your head swam, vision tunneling slightly as you glanced around the Velvet Hammer.  You imagined Steve on his stool at the door and Eddie pulling you aside in the hallway to kiss you.  The song Everlong by The Foo Fighters was on, and you thought about how Chicago was over three hours away.  You’d have to move; it was much too far for a commute.
“That’s such a generous offer, I
I don’t know what to say?” 
“You don’t have to say anything right now,” and before you knew what was happening, his hand slid across the table and was on top of your fingers. 
Your eyes flashed to his hand over yours and you sat there shocked while your need to be polite overrode your core instincts. 
“I know there’s a lot to think about,” he continued, removing his hand to cup it around his drink again.  “Of course, I’d pay for all of your moving expenses.  I own a building downtown with an artist loft I think you might be interested in.  You’d have plenty of room to live and paint, start fresh, if you wanted to.”
Start fresh.
You felt like Shana had slipped a psychedelic into your tea, like you were melting into your chair.  Your brain was having a hard time keeping up with the reality of what was being offered.  
He tossed back another sip and wiped the corners of his mouth, looking almost unsure if he should say the next part.  “Charlene and I—” he licked his perfectly straight teeth in contemplation. “---we’ve decided to go our separate ways.  We’re selling the lake house, a few other properties, and she’s planning to move to Hawaii to be near her sister.”
A thought zipped through your mind then. How long had Charlene known she was leaving? Why would she become a partner in The Velvet Hammer and then move to Hawaii?
“That means I’ll be at my condo in Chicago most of the time, unless I’m traveling for business,” he gave you a pointed look again.  “There are so many places I’d love to take you to in the city.  If you are interested, that is.”
“Well,” you laughed nervously. “I’d need to talk to my boyfriend about it. About the job, I mean.  Moving to Chicago. His whole life is here.”
“Certainly,” John nodded, not missing a beat. “You talk to him and when you’re ready, you have my number. The gallery space I’m buying needs work, so I’d like to fly you out there in a week to take a look at it, once you decide.”
You were still staring glassy eyed at the edge of the table after John stood and left the Hammer.  You hadn’t remembered to breathe in god knew how long, so you tried that, letting out a hard exhale that made a cocktail napkin go flying off the table.
Would Eddie move with you? Visit you on the weekends? The latter seemed more likely but also not, considering how demanding his work schedule was.  Katie told you that Robin had asked her to move in, and you were overjoyed for her.  She’d be paying her share of the rent and utilities for the next month, but after that you’d either need to find a smaller place or a new roommate because you couldn’t afford your duplex on a Velvet Hammer salary.  
One week was all you had.
Did you even need a week? Surely you knew your answer.
—-------
The tires on the tow truck screeched to a stuttering halt out on a Hawkins back road lined with cornfields.
Behind the wheel, Eddie idled there, right in front of that familiar white picket fence around the big yard and the farmhouse with a porch swing and a red barn in back.
Eddie knew the details of the old Ferguson place by heart, it had been his dream house ever since he was in high school and used to take long rides on his bike to clear his head.  The couple that had spent their life raising a family there were in their 80’s now, and he’d heard through the grapevine that they were relocating to a retirement community.  To a smaller place that was easier to care for.  All of their children were grown and lived far away.
The newest addition to the house was where his eyes fell.  
His attention fixed on the sign at the end of the driveway for a long while, heart thudding in his chest.
The old Ferguson Farmhouse was for sale.
—---
The next day was the Welcome Home Baby Stevie barbeque at Steve’s and he had a blue “Kiss the Cook” apron on and a spatula in his bandaged hand when you and Eddie arrived.  He wore an elastic bracelet made of colorful plastic beads around his wrist that you assumed was a new gift from Oliver.  The sky was bright blue, almost blinding, and the air was crisp. 
“You sure you’re okay?” Eddie asked on the way up the driveway to Robin and Steve’s backyard where the lawn had been neatly mowed and edged.  “Anything you want to talk about?”
You hated keeping things from him, but you had no idea how to bring up John’s offer, or if you even wanted to mention it.  Eddie had invited you over to his place the night before, but you’d told him you needed some time alone to get to bed early.  Turns out that being alone with your thoughts only made it worse.
“No, I’m fine my love, I promise,” you leaned into him.  “I’m just tired.”
He put his arm around your shoulders to scoop you closer and kiss your ear.  “I’m gonna take care of you tonight.  Make you a bath, pour you some wine, kiss you all over.  How does that sound?”
“It sounds—” you felt emotions water your eyes suddenly and you blinked it away as quickly as you could.  “That sounds perfect.”
You felt guilty that you were even considering John’s offer, but how could you not? A very hopeful part of you said that both were a possibility, that you could keep Eddie and have your dream job in the city. But how? You couldn’t take Eddie away from Wayne and Oliver and his business, you would never ask that of him.  
“Is Wayne coming?” You asked, noticing you did not see his truck.  Also, your thoughts were racing again and you needed a distraction.
“He’ll be here later,” Eddie assured you.  “Astrid is picking him up on her way over.  Max and Lucas stopped by the garage for a visit and I didn’t want to disrupt the reunion.”
You felt a bit embarrassed at the mention of his longtime friend Max, only because you’d been made to believe that she was a mysterious redhead that Eddie was having an affair with not too long ago.
Thanks to Charlene.
You imagined that Hawkins would be a much better place without her lurking around every corner.  Was there a chance that Judith would take you back on at Moon River Gallery?  No, you had no desire to go crawling back to that place. Unless a new gallery opened, or your art took off to celebrity status, you’d be waitressing at the Hammer and squirreling away your tips for the foreseeable future.
But, you’d have Eddie.
You’d been spacing out so hard, you barely realized that Robin was standing in front of you, offering to take the sack with a Tupperware full of homemade potato salad and hamburger buns. Eddie was carrying your veggie burger patties that he bought especially for the occasion, and the fixings to make tofu skewers.  You told him you were a vegetarian once, and you never had to remind him again.  
“You good?” Robin asked, noting the way you shook your head a few times to come back to reality. Katie came up behind Robin to place her hands on her girlfriend’s hips before she moved over to your side.
“Have a beer with me?” Katie asked softly, reading the weariness in your slightly hunched shoulders.  
It was officially fall, but the weather was warm for Indiana in late September.  Eddie had on his Iron Maiden concert tee under his jacket from their 1985 World Slavery tour and black converse with his worn jeans, and he took his leather off and threw it on a lawn chair as he walked over to the grill.
“You better leave the hard stuff to me,” he said to Steve, shifting his gaze accusatory to grill.  The last time he let Steve grill your veggie burger, he’d charred it within an inch of its life.  
“Have at it,” Steve dusted his hands together.  “I have to go check on my pie in the oven.”
“You baked a pie?” Eddie gawked at him like he had hornets crawling out of his ears.  
“Well, Astrid made it,” he pinched a few sunflower seeds out of the front pocket of his apron and popped them in his mouth, chewing as he spoke. “It’s cherry,” he bobbed his eyebrows up and down a few times suggestively, and Eddie scoffed, elbowing him out of the way so that he could put his skewers down on the folding table.
You were just about to take the first sip of your beer when a man’s voice that was not familiar called over from the driveway.  
“There’s that long-haired freak I’ve been looking for.”
The skin on your arms prickled with gooseflesh and you spun around, thinking there was about to be some sort of trouble. 
Slightly unrealistic to think the worst, but you were understandably alert.
There at the edge of the lawn stood a tall, handsome guy you’d never laid eyes on before, maybe in his late 20’s, and he had a Coffin Kings cut on that was very similar to the one’s Eddie and Steve wore.  At his side, holding his hand was an adorable redhead. Her long hair was pulled through the back of a baseball cap, but you noted that the bright candy color was deeply familiar.  
You turned to see Eddie’s reaction like you were watching a tennis match.  
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he beamed.  “Look what the cat dragged in, "and he stopped what he was doing to make his way over with his arms out and the two hugged, giving each other hearty pats on the back.
“Max!” Robin squealed, practically doing a cartwheel in that direction.  You and Katie fell back and stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the group reconnect in a way that was very familial.  
Lucas and Max had been together since high school, you learned, and Lucas was a member of the Coffin Kings Indianapolis chapter.  The song Love Spreads by The Stone Roses played from Robin's portable boombox on the steps as the new arrivals meandered in to be with the rest of the gang and assimilated with ease.  
Eddie rested his hand on your lower back to introduce you, and instead of a handshake, Max went in for a hearty hug, and in your ear, she said, “Eddie loves you so much, I’ve been dying to meet you.”
When she pulled back to meet your eyes, you nodded, swallowing hard.  “I’ve heard so much about you,” you told her, and then Max shot a look at Eddie and made a crack about how she hoped it was all good things that you’d heard.
They were even more interested to meet Katie, being that Robin had not been serious about anyone since before Oliver was born.  Just then, the Oliver in question came bursting out of the house flying his hot dog bun through the air like a plane, making engine noises.  
By the time Dustin and Suzie came by with their new baby, the smell of burgers charring on the grill filled the air and you helped Steve bring some more chairs out to the lawn.  Eddie was taking much care to keep your vegetarian stuff away from the meat, and you couldn’t help but notice with deep adoration.
Astrid had a lot on her mind.  So much so that she didn’t have it in her to make the usual banter with Wayne that she enjoyed when they were together.
“You okay, darlin’?” Wayne turned to her in the truck on the way over.
“Oh,” she tucked a thick swatch of dark hair behind her ear. “You know, just thinking about how excited Steve must be about the new baby.”
There was a distinct melancholy in her voice.  One of the reasons the relationship between her and Steve had never gone any further than besties who make love was her refusal to take away his chance at a big family.  She was barely 21 when a doctor told her she’d never be able to conceive. Well, technically he said there was a small chance—a hairline percentage—but that it “would take an actual miracle”---those were his words.  
She loved Steve too much to not let him be a dad.  He was made for that life.  Ever since he was a teenager, he’d known he wanted to be a father, and once he had Oliver, she knew she’d done the right thing.  She’d tried to keep their relationship platonic time and time again, but in the end, the chemistry between them always proved to be too strong.  
She’d decided that she would love him until he found someone else, and then she would continue to love him from the shadows.  She’d given her heart long ago, and with him it would stay.  
“Hell, look at the head of hair on that kid,” Wayne said when Suzie introduced him to her daughter.  He gave a crooked grin and stroked a finger along the back of her tiny, exposed hand.  
At that, Dustin took his cap off and swiped a hand through his unruly mane.  “Thank god the rest of her looks take after her mother.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Lucas grumbled, thumping his friend in the arm.  
Steve had his back to the crowd when they came in and Astrid spanked him on the bum on her way up the stairs to the kitchen.
He spun on his heel and was quick to cage his arms around her so she could only squirm.  His face was flushed and glowing.  “You meet the kid?”
“I did,” normally, she would’ve kissed him, but instead she pulled back a bit, tilting her chin away.  “She’s so beautiful, Steve.”
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I—” she knew she was a fool to think he wouldn’t be able to read her face, a fool to think he couldn’t read her like a book after all of those years.  
Steve frowned, examining her face for a clue to her distress.  
Astrid’s stomach felt like she’d swallowed a lead weight.  
She hadn’t decided if she should tell him or not.
About the secret she’d been carrying with her for a few days.  
15 years, that’s how long she’d been in love with him.
Back when he was 19 and she was 23.
They’d known each other since they were little kids.
“I need to talk to you later,” she told him.
Steve dropped his arms from around her but held her hand.  “You can’t tell me now?”
She’d be 38 in December.
“Later, okay?” She winked at him to ease his suffering, and then made her way into the house, knowing that he stood there the whole time and watched her go. 
But later that day never came.  
Wayne wanted to get back and rest before his chemo treatment, and Dustin and his family only stayed for about an hour as they were all understandably still exhausted and wanting to recover at home.  
Astrid waved goodbye to Steve on her way out, and Steve stood up from his chair thinking he’d get a kiss, or at least a hug—but then she was gone.  
He tried not to think too much of it.  If he’d done something to upset her, she was never shy about letting him know.  Maybe she was tired of socializing, maybe she needed a break from him.
Lord knows he wished he could take a break from himself.  
Eddie looked over at where you stood talking with Max and Robin, and he recalled the conversation he’d had with Wayne a few days earlier.
“I don’t have to tell you you found a good one,” Wayne said from the couch in his trailer while Eddie sat next to him.  “I think you know they don’t come around very often.”
“Oh believe me, I know,” Eddie raked a hand through his hair, brushing his bangs off his forehead one, two, three times.  “I keep thinking one day she’s going to wake up and realize she could do a lot better.”
“You’ve done better than you give yourself credit for,” his uncle returned in a low, steady voice. 
When the next words came, Eddie felt a tightness in his throat:
“I’m proud of you, son.”
Wayne had a hard time leaving the house the day after his treatments, so Eddie always came by to bring him lunch and make sure he had everything he needed.  One day he came by to check on Wayne and found that you were already there, doing his dishes for him.
He’d never been with anyone who cared about the people in his life like that.  
Back at the barbeque, you slipped up next to him and planted your lips on his bicep, breathing in the sandalwood and leather of his scent.  “Penny for your thoughts?”
“Since you asked,” he smirked.  “I was thinking how I wish I’d met you a lot sooner.”
“How much sooner?” You batted eyes at him once he turned to face you. “In high school?”
Eddie made a yuck face.  “No, you would not have given me a chance in high school.  I would’ve been a lovesick puppy, but you probably wouldn’t have even known I existed.”
“Are you kidding?” You stuck the tip of your tongue out between your teeth, examining him.  “I would’ve jumped your bones so fast.”
“So fast, huh?” He chuckled, taking you by the hips. “What about now?”
He pulled you in and you hummed against his lips, trying not to get too horny right there in front of the guests.  
Lucas and Max would be in town for a couple days, so you and Eddie made plans to meet up at the Velvet Hammer when you were off work on Tuesday.  By the time the sun went down, all of the visitors were gone, and you were happy to head home as well after helping with some cleanup.  
“Robin and I can take care of it,” Katie nudged you away from trying to wash out a casserole dish at the sink. “You get out of here and go rest.  Make Eddie rub your feet or something.”
You both stopped what you were doing to look at each other.  
The way you were searching your friend’s face made her turn to give you her full attention.  In the background, you could hear Steve trying to convince Oliver to get his pajamas on and brush his teeth in a sing-song voice.  
“I can’t believe how much has happened in these past few months,” you still had soap bubbles popping on your wet hands and you slid them absently along the thighs of your jeans. 
Katie gave a thoughtful sniff.  “I think about it a lot,” she mused. “About that night on the couch at our place when you first told me about the guy who picked you up in the tow truck, and then meeting the boys at The Hideout and then—”
She cringed and covered her face with a dish towel, remembering her “date” with Steve.  “---it feels so surreal that Steve and I actually
well
I don’t want to think about it.  It’s too weird.”
“But then you and Robin found each other again,” you offered, thinking back to that first barbecue at their house when Eddie had to take off suddenly for secretive Coffin Kings business.  
It was on the tip of your tongue to tell your friend about the offer from John Gregson.  Katie knew you better than most people and you could always trust her advice to be on the mark.  
For some reason, you wanted to cry, just drop to your knees and start bawling right there on the kitchen floor.  For no one reason just
Everything
Katie caught the way your jaw moved like you were just about to say something, but then Eddie’s hands were snaking around to hold your back flush to his chest.  Your hair caught on his beard stubble when he leaned in, warm breath at your ear.  “You ladies need any help in here?”
You closed your eyes; you were glad to have him there. Glad to be in his arms, glad to know, in your heart, that he would always try his best for you.
But you were the one keeping a secret.  
Robin joined Katie at the sink and told you both to take a hike, lovingly.  
Steve came into the kitchen after you were both gone and the engine of Eddie’s Chevelle could be heard thundering down the road.
The first thing he did was pick up the beige, wall-mounted phone and call Astrid.  He stood there for a while with the receiver pressed to his ear and his other arm folded over his chest before he held the mouthpiece out in front of him and stared at it.
“She’s not answering,” he mumbled loud enough that the girls could hear.  
“Maybe she’s at Wayne’s? Did you check there?” Robin offered; her hair worn up in a haphazard ponytail.
Steve checked the clock first to make sure he wasn’t bothering Uncle too late, but it was barely 8:30 and he was probably up in his recliner watching M*A*S*H reruns.  
Wayne answered and they exchanged a few words, but then when Steve hung up again, he was quiet, contemplatively so.
“What did he say?” Robin asked impatiently, drying some silverware with a checkered towel.
Steve frowned.  “He said she dropped him off almost two hours ago and told him she was going home.”
He tried her house one more time and, again, no answer.  He let it ring five times but disconnected once her answering machine clicked on.  
“Maybe she went to bed early,” Katie shrugged.  “And turned the ringer off.”
Steve knew better; Astrid barely slept.  Normally, not being able to get a hold of her would not phase him, but something about the way she’d been acting that night set an alarm off in his gut.  
Outside, there was the sound like a firecracker bomb going off that shook the house.  Robin yelped and Steve bolted to the window to yank the yellow curtain back to see where it had come from.  
He got there just in time to see a streak of lightning crack the dark sky and a drizzle of rain hit the glass.  “Oh shit, good thing Eddie came in the Chevelle,” the droplets turned into a downpour as he stood there.  
“Looks like a hell of a storm is brewing.”
—----
Earlier that day, Charlene Gregson marched out of Murray Bauman’s office with her lawyer in tow.  She wore her oversized sunglasses and no expression on her face as they went down in the elevator and exited into the austere lobby.  She looked like a million bucks, which was probably the cost of all of the gold and diamond jewelry she had on.  
Outside on the busy street, her personal chauffeur was waiting by the Towncar to open the door for her while her lawyer, a pit-bull of a man named Saul, got in on the other side to slide in next to her.  Billy was out there waiting on his bike, to make sure no one bothered her on their way out.  He flicked his cigarette to the ground and revved the engine, angling to fall in line behind the Towncar.
“You sure this is what you want?” Saul posed the question to her as he slammed his door shut. They’d just thrown a lot of money at Murray and had him sign official documents.
Charlene sounded annoyed.  “It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it? The deal is done.”
He continued. “I suppose I’m still trying to wrap my head around why you would—” 
“I don’t pay you to ask personal questions,” she sniffed. “Just make sure there’s a smooth transition.  I don’t want to be having a cocktail on the beach and find out that you fumbled something, and I’m forced to fly back out here.”
The town car sailed into traffic and the two sat in silence for a few minutes until Charlene stared out the window at the passing buildings on their way back to the lake house. 
 “Have you ever been in love, Saul?” 
He was confused by the question and tapped his foot a few times.  “I can’t really say I have.” 
After recent events, and everything that he’d been tasked to do in her name for the benefit of someone else made him wonder. “What about you?”
“Only once,” she pressed her red lips together, eyes unblinking behind her sunglasses.  “And once will have to be enough.”
Saul assumed she meant her soon to be ex husband John, and so he left it at that.  
—-------
In a matter of seconds, the rain was coming down in sheets and the windshield wipers on the Chevelle were flapping back and forth at supernova speed.
“We could go back to my apartment if you want,” Eddie turned the Faith No More song down on the radio so that he could be heard over the rain.  “But your place is cozier, and I know both are fairly small but I’ve been wanting to talk to you about—”
“I think I want to stay at my place tonight,” you blurted it out, keeping your attention fixed on the dash, staring at nothing. “Alone, if that’s alright.” 
You could see in your peripheral vision that he turned to look at you, and you offered a reflexive smile, shoulders hunched a bit as if you were trying to fold  in on yourself.  
He smoothed his palm around the steering wheel and tried not to let the sensitive side of him that had been abandoned his whole life jump to conclusions.  Not everyone needed to sleep next to the person they loved every night; you wanting space was totally reasonable and had nothing to do with your feelings for him.
Right?
Just in case, he decided to make sure.  “Was it something I said or? Cause if there’s an issue between us, you know you can talk to me.”
For some reason, his insistence to have healthy communication irritated you.  Possibly because you knew he was right and you should put it all out on the table and talk to him, but you didn’t know how.  Your brain had barely been able to process the offer from John, let alone put the whole thing into words.
“It’s nothing you did,” you said softly.  “I just need time to think.”
Something about your tone and choice of words made his heart rate increase.  “Think about what?”
“Just stuff Eddie, okay? I don’t want to talk about it right now!” You snapped at him, for the first time ever.  
After everything with Erika and Charlene and Melanie and thinking he’d been cheating on you, you’d never lost your temper with him, and the two of you had never had a fight.  As much as you knew that arguments and disagreements were a very normal part of intimate relationships, you still felt like shit the second the words came out with such vitriol.
There it was, Eddie’s biggest fear: you were pulling away from him.  
He’d suffocated you just like he was prone to do.  He was “too much”, and now you were getting sick of him.  
For the next few minutes of the drive to your place, neither of you said a word.  
You because you didn’t want to take your confusion and anxiety out on Eddie, and Eddie because he didn’t want to sound like a whiny, needy bitch and make things worse.    
He parked up in your driveway to get you close to the door, but he kept the engine running to let you know he was honoring your wish to drop you off and let you be.  
You took a deep breath and flipped the manual lock up with two fingers.
“Wait, let me—” he was about to get out and come around to hold his coat out for you so that you wouldn’t get wet, but you were too quick for him.
“I’ll be fine, goodnight.” you were soaked the second you stepped out, fumbling in the pocket of your bag to find your keys.
“I love you,” Eddie’s voice was barely loud enough to be heard over the weather.
“Love you too,” you said quickly, and then you were bolting for the house, wishing you’d left the porch light on.  
Once you were inside, you clicked the deadbolt shut and watched the beam of Eddie’s headlights retreat.
This was ridiculous.  You were being ridiculous.  
There’s a beautiful man out there who treats you better than you’ve ever been treated in your whole life.  
You threw your bag on the floor and undid the lock to jerk open the door again.
You stumbled out into the rain.  “Eddie wait!”
But all you could see were his taillights as he pulled onto the main street and drifted away.  
—------
Back at her house, Astrid let the phone ring.
At one point, she had her hand on it, ready to pick up, but then decided against it.  
It was impossible for her to be fake with Steve, but she also wasn’t ready to be as forthcoming as she needed to be.  
She stood at the table and looked at the paperwork from the doctor's office one more time before she made her way over to the couch and hugged a pillow to her chest to let the tears fall hot and heavy.  
She had her eyes closed, so she didn’t notice the lights approaching in the driveway or hear Steve shouting her name from the sidewalk as he stood out in the rain.
He’d borrowed Robin’s car to ease his mind and make sure Astrid was okay.  What if she had slipped and hit her head or something? What if she was there with another dude? Also, a possibility under their “don’t ask, don’t tell” relationship agreement.    
The white t-shirt he had on was soaked through, making the tattoos underneath look like they were a design imprinted on the material that hugged his muscles.  
He banged on the door with the side of his fist and shouted her name again. 
By then, Astrid could hear him, but she stayed curled on the couch and waited in vain for him to give up and leave.  
—--
Eddie scowled to himself as he parked the Chevelle in one of the garages and made his way across the parking lot and up the steps to his apartment, shaking his wet hair like a dog.  He could hear a few of the guys partying in the clubhouse, and he thought about joining them, but realized his spirits were too low to be social. There was a punching bag in the back office where he normally did his workouts to burn off steam, but he wasn’t in the mood for that either.  
He told himself he would check on you first thing in the morning, but then it occurred to him that you might not want to hear from him right away.  He wanted to respect your wishes, your boundaries.  
He didn’t want to smother you.
On the nightstand next to his phone was the card for the real estate agent he’d visited the day before.  There was a room on the second floor of the Ferguson farmhouse with a view of the big backyard and he imagined setting some easels up to make it a place for you to paint.  It had a big living room with a fireplace and a workshed in the barn.  He wanted to talk to you about it, to ask if maybe you could see yourself living there.  With him.  
But now he wondered if things were moving too fast.  
He crossed his arms over his body and took his shirt off in the bathroom mirror.  He rubbed a hand down his stomach, noting the areas of skin that were not covered in inked designs.  The fanged bat with wings spread wide on his chest, the dragon design on his bicep, the grim reaper on his forearm.  A crude dagger made to look like it pierced his skin just under his rib cage that said, “true friends stab you in the front”.  There were other bits of traditional biker flash scattered around that Steve had doodled on him over the past decade.  On his other forearm was a memorial tattoo for his mother with her name, the year she died, and an angel statue with eyes that dripped blood, surrounded in roses and thorns, and the thorns came down over the back of his hand.  It was done in a way so that the bats that had been inked there earlier were still visible.  
He was barely 15 when another friend inked HELLFIRE on his knuckles.  It was done with a homemade tattooing gun like the ones used in prison, and the letters had to be redone later because they were basically chicken scratches.  One of the other earliest ones was the skull with a snake through it on his opposite bicep with his nickname “War Machine” underneath.  
Some days, he wanted to get them all removed and start over.
Other days, he wanted to go balls to the wall like Steve and be inked from ear to foot.  
He threw his soaked shirt in the hamper and was just about to grab a beer out of the small fridge near his desk to take into the shower with him—
but then there was a knock at the door.  
At first, he thought it was one of the other Coffin Kings, trying to drag him down to get plastered with them, but then he noticed that the rapping of knuckles was soft, cautious even.  
“Eddie?”
His head snapped around at the sound of the voice.
It was you. 
—------
Steve held his finger on the doorbell, relentlessly.  “Astrid, if you don’t answer the goddamn door, I’m gonna break it down!  You know I will!”
Astrid wiped her face, flapping her hand to dry her eyes and cheeks to the best of her ability.  She still had on the flowy, floral, maxi dress with an empire waist that she’d worn at the barbeque, and she wrapped a black shawl around her shoulders as she stomped begrudgingly to the door. 
Just as she was about to reach up to unlock the safety chain, there was a loud thud from Steve’s foot slamming into the wood, vibrating the hinges.
“Steve stop!” She yelled, fussing with the second lock on the doorknob.  
She yanked the door back and there he was: soaked to the bone. 
There was only a short awning over her front steps, and so he was standing as close to the frame as possible while more thunder rumbled in the distance. His wet hair had flopped into his eyes, and he swiped it back with a twist of his head, spitting to the sidewalk as he did so.  
His expression was one of anger at first, but then it melted into confusion when he could tell right away that she had been crying.  “Why aren’t you answering your phone?”
“This is a bad time,” she stayed blocking the entrance, although the yearning in his eyes was actively testing her resolve.
“The hell it is?” He pushed. He shifted to see behind her, as if there was someone or something she was hiding.  “You’re upset, I can tell.  Let me in.”
“No.” That was her answer, but Steve wasn’t having it.
He stomped up onto the threshold, wet hair dripping onto her face as he closed in, bracing his hand on the door so that she couldn’t shut it.  “Why don’t you want to see me?”
She tried to look everywhere but his face, but then his hand caught her chin and guided her eyes up to meet his. 
 “Talk to me,” he whispered from lips dotted in water droplets.  
There was a tug of war going on in her heart, and in the end, Steve won.  He always did.  
She didn’t invite him in properly, she just turned on her heel and left the door open, knowing he would follow her into the living room.  
His boots squeaked from all the moisture on her hardwood floors.  He always liked to take his shoes off when he came to see her, but it was too late for that.  He found her sitting on the couch in the dark, but he could only see the outline of her curly hair.
“Why are you sitting here without any lights on?” He reached down and flicked on a tiny wicker lamp that was on the nearby bookshelf.  
“You ask a lot of questions,” she mumbled.
He pinched the front of his shirt to peel it from his body and flapped it a few times as if that would dry it out. “What did you want to talk to me about at the barbeque?”
“You’re soaking wet,” she got a good look at him in the light and suddenly felt bad that she’d made him wait out there.
“No kidding?” He snorted sarcastically. 
“You left some of your clothes here last time. I folded them in the third drawer,” she hugged the pillow.  “Get into something dry and then we can talk.”
He stripped down to his underwear right there in front of her, staring at her the entire time, as if he was worried she would bolt and try to hide from him. His patchwork of colorful tattoos was a jumble of loud expressions of his aggression and passion.  In honor of his nickname Taz, he had several Tasmanian devils doing various things including riding a motorcycle and one on the back of his arm giving onlookers the middle finger.  The ones on the front of his thighs were all self-done when he was just a kid, practicing his craft.  When he was a teenager, he used to tease her and call her “Asteroid” and just above his knee was an asteroid with a fire tail crashing toward a heart-shaped earth.  Besides the Seek and Destroy tattoo on the side of his throat, his skin was full of phrases, including the big “FTW” letters in an arc under his ribcage that stood for “Fuck the World”.   
He went into her bedroom and brought out a pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt with “Gary’s Plumbing” advertised on the front pocket.  He dressed in front of her as well, keeping a relentless eye.
“You really are ridiculous, you know that?” She put her chin in her palm and waited patiently for the show to be over.  
He flapped his arms out to his sides like a little kid waiting for approval on his outfit. “Okay, beautiful. I’m dry.  Time to spill the beans.”
“Can you sit down, please?” Her heart flopped in her chest as she considered the words that were about to come out of her mouth and the effect, they would have on him.
In Steve’s experience, when someone asked you to sit down before they told you something, it was always their attempt to soften the blow of bad news.  “Why can’t you just tell me now? You’re freaking me out, babe.”
“Steve,” She pleaded sternly.  “Trust me, I need you to sit down for this.”
—------
Eddie barely had time to greet you before you were pushing by him to get into the studio apartment.  You were hugging yourself, and anxiety had your stomach in knots.  
“I need to talk to you about something,” you gushed.  
Eddie stood at the door, keeping his back to you while he locked it.  He was shirtless, dark hair dripping down the pale muscles that flexed under his flesh.  
You looked around, trying to decide if you should sit or stand when your gaze landed on the painting you’d done for him after that first time you met.  He had it displayed front and center, right above his desk on the main navy-blue wall, as if it were the most important piece in the room.
You were pacing when he turned toward you, the wheels in your mind spinning.
When he got closer, you stepped further away, but he caught your wrist.  “Hey, why can’t you look at me? What’s going on?”  His voice was sterner than he’d intended it to be.  
“I can look at you,” you made yourself meet his stare to prove his point, but it was difficult. You felt like he could see right through you; all of your doubts, all of your fears and insecurities. 
“Sit,” he directed you over to the end of the bed, facing the small sitting area with where there was a couch and a coffee table in front of an old Zenith tv.
Next to you, the mattress sank under his weight, but in your mind, you were somewhere else.  
“So, is this it?” He released a heavy breath and started to play with one of the rings on his hand, pulling it up the finger and then pushing it back down to the knuckle.
“What do you mean?”
It was he who couldn’t look at you now.  “Are you breaking up with me?”
“No!” You blurted it, eyebrows pinching together in frustration with the way you couldn’t get the words out.  “That’s not
I didn’t mean
I just have a lot on my mind, that’s all.”
A rush of endorphins filled him with temporary relief while he waited for your next words.
You stretched your neck from side to side, swallowed hard, and then you told him.
You told him about John’s offer to run your own gallery in Chicago, the opportunity to have the artists loft you’d always dreamed of.  You picked at a piece of skin on the side of your thumb as you talked.
“But I said I needed to talk to you about it first,” you added.
Eddie got to his feet and went over to look out the window over the garage parking lot. “Sounds like a pretty sweet deal,” he mumbled.  
You weren’t breaking up with him, but you were, in fact, leaving him, which was much the same thing.
“Well, it’s complicated,” you said, watching as he went over to snatch his pack of smokes and lighter off of the coffee table.  
“Doesn’t sound complicated to me,” the cigarette bobbed between his pinched lips as he talked, cupping his hand to light the end.  “Sounds like you already know what your answer is.”
“I wouldn’t be talking to you about it if I’d already made my decision,” you countered.  “I want to know what you think.”
“Well,” he scoffed, exhaling a sharp plume of smoke down his chin. His eyes were much darker now, almost black.  “No one in their right mind would choose to stay in Hawkins, not with an opportunity like that on the table.” 
He almost added, “no loser biker boyfriend is worth it,” but decided it was not the right time to be self-deprecating. 
“But I like it here,” you mused. “More than I ever thought I would.”
“We’ll always be here, trust me,” he was trying to remain cool, but his exterior was cracking.  “So, this John guy has been stalking you or something? Getting you to do this painting for him was one thing, but now he’s waiting for you at your job to get you to what? ----Move to Chicago to be closer to him?”.
The smoke came out his nose that time and the muscles in his throat tensed.  He had a bad feeling about that guy before, but he wanted to respect your business ventures and give you space.
The change in Eddie’s demeanor made you wonder if that was the time for full transparency.  In the end, you’d made a promise not to have any secrets from each other and you wanted to keep your word.
“There was mention of that, yes,” you said cautiously, nibbling at your lip.  
“Mention of what, exactly?” Eddie scowled, cocking his head to the side.
“He said there were lots of places he wanted to take me to in the city,” you recited the words cautiously.
Eddie laughed and threw his head back; it was much more of a crazy, maniacal cackle.  “Oh shit, maybe I should pay him a little visit?  See if pretty boy wants to show me the city too.”
“Eddie.”
“What did you tell him?” He was fuming now, grinding his jaw as he stabbed the half-smoked cig into the ashtray.  
“I didn’t tell him anything,” you repeated, but in a much louder voice.  “I said I needed to talk to you, my boyfriend.”
“He knows you have a boyfriend, and he still pulled that shit?”  Eddie bit the tip of his tongue between his teeth with a grimace.  “That fucker needs to get rolled.”
“Eddie!” 
“No, I’m serious,” he was yelling now, but more about the situation than at you.  “I gave him a chance to be cool, to be a gentleman, and he fucked it up. I told you babe, dudes like that, with money, think they can take whatever they want.  Well, he can’t have you, unless it’s over my dead fucking body.”
“Well, it’s my fucking choice, and I don’t want to be with him, I want to be with you, asshole,” You shot to your feet.  
You’d realized something on your way over to his place and it was that you really did not want to leave Hawkins.  
Every rational bone in your body told you to take the offer and run, but the other bones in your body, the not so rational ones, told you that you’d finally found your family and a place you belonged.  
“Listen to me,” you grabbed him by the arm and made him turn, his hair flying over his shoulder.  “I don’t want to take the job, okay? I want to stay here.  With you.”
Eddie nostrils flared.  It was taking all of his strength not to go out looking for that pencil pushing dweeb Gregson.  But if he actually got his hands on him in the heat of the moment, he was afraid of what he would do.  
“I’ll move with you,” Eddie wet his lips, a new idea flashing behind his eyes.
“With me? To Chicago?”
“Yeah, no, I could make it work. Hire another manager here, another tow truck driver. Come back and check in a couple times a month,” he walked by you as he talked, plucking at his lower lip with thumb and forefinger. “I could get a job at a garage in Chicago, easy. There’s even a King’s chapter there. I could get Bones to patch me in.”
“What about Wayne? And Oliver?” 
“We’ll come back to visit,” Eddie nodded at the plan that was forming in his head.  “Steve and Robin and the kid love Chicago.  Maybe we can get a place with a spare bedroom for when they come up.”
“But what about—”
“I know this means a lot to you, this opportunity,” he cut you off.  “I know I’m a dirty, biker asshole, but I’m not going to be the reason you give up on a dream.” He went over to the dresser drawers and pulled out a Pabst Blue Ribbon shirt to pull on over his head.  The armholes were cut wide, and the collar was frayed.  
“But what if I don’t want to live in Chicago?”
Eddie squinted like he hadn’t heard you correctly.  “What now?”
You bit the inside of your cheek in contemplation.  “I’ve been thinking that I don’t really care about that world anymore, the art world I mean.”
“You don’t want to paint anymore?” He appeared hurt by this notion.  
“No, I do, I will always paint,” you corrected with a wave of your hand.  “But the retail side of it, the snobby clientele, the stress, I’m not sure it makes me happy anymore.  Not sure if it ever did.”
It was Eddie who took a seat that time, perching on the back of the sofa. You could tell he was trying to understand, but the information was coming at him a bit too fast.
“I don’t want to work at the Hammer for the rest of my life, either, but it’s okay for now,” you were working through the revelations as you spoke them aloud.  “I have a friend who is starting her own greeting card company, and she wants me to do some artwork for her.  Little by little, I can make a living while still doing what I love.”
Eddie’s thoughts drifted back to the farmhouse, and how much he felt like it fit the both of you.  
“Are you telling me you chose Hawkins? Really?”
You went over to situate your hips between his knees and brushed his bangs off his forehead.  “No, I’m saying I choose you, asshole,” a smile tugged the side of your mouth up.  “Hawkins is a bonus, yes, but I will always choose you.”
Foreheads met then, and Eddie forced out a long-held breath from between tight lips.  “I don’t want you to wake up one day and realize you made a mistake.”
“The only thing I regret is that I didn’t get to jump your bones in high school.”
He chuckled, repeating what he’d asked at the barbeque earlier.  “Well, what about now?”
In the back of his mind he was thinking, “that John Gregson is still a dead man,” but he kept it to himself.
—----
Steve flopped down next to Astrid on the fluffy, tan sofa so violently it was as if he’d been thrown there by a force of nature.  He scooted closer and pawed at her hand so that she would intertwine her fingers with his.  He was reminded of all of those times as a teenager when he would get hurt on purpose just so she would patch him up.  She was a couple years older and wanted nothing to do with him back then, but nevertheless he melted under the tender touch of her attention every time.  
“I’m all ears,” he prodded eagerly when she did not speak right away.  
Keeping Steve’s hand with hers, Astrid turned to face him and tucked her bare feet underneath her, adjusting the stretch length of her dress.  
Steve watched the way her long hair fell across her neck and ample cleavage. 
“Okay,” she cleared her throat. “What I need to tell you is—”
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, perpetually distracted.
“Steve?”
“Sorry, go ahead.”
Another big inhale and then: “These past few weeks, I could tell something was
off.  I thought it was early menopause because I missed my period.”
Steve stared blankly, trying not to get turned on watching her lips move.  
She let her gaze fall to their hands clasped on Steve’s knee, wondering if any of it was real, or if she was still dreaming. 
“Is it cancer?”  He dared to ask, squeezing her hand.  “Because I’m not going to let anything happen to you.  I’ll find the best doctor at gunpoint if I have to.”   
“Steve!” 
“What? You’re making me crazy! Tell me everything's okay?”
“I’m not dying, Steve.”
“Well then what is it? I’ve been going out of my mind and here you are—”
“I’m pregnant.”
His body had been moving, vibrating even, but it all came to a complete halt at that.  
As if he’d been flash-frozen on the spot.
A mannequin of himself; mouth open, one eyebrow up. 
He shook his head, confused.  “Hold on, what? But I thought you said that you—”
She played with the hem of her shawl.  “I was told it was impossible.  I was told it would take a miracle.”
“Wait a minute, so—” he gulped and then leaned forward to search her face, one arm scooping behind her.  Her eyes were glossy again, on the verge of another wellspring.  
“Is it m-my
is it my baby?” He stammered.
She could only nod, chin quivering as more tears gathered at her lash line only to race down her cheeks once she blinked.  
Steve lost it then too, sucking in air before he choked on his own emotions.  He brought her hand to his chest and held it there.  “My baby,” he gasped, eyes flooding.  “You’re having my baby.  We’re having a baby.”
“Yeah,” she hiccuped and sniffed. “You’re not upset?”
“Upset? Why would I be upset? How could you even think that?” He was deeply offended that she would question his reaction to something he’d wanted his whole life with her, specifically.
He was wiping her tears away with his thumbs as she spoke.  “This is far from convenient, Steve. The way we both live our lives, we never planned for this. We barely have two pennies to rub together between us and—”
“Shhhh,” he kissed her nose and her eyelids and her mouth. “Money comes and goes, sweetheart.  It doesn’t matter, nothing matters, but you and this baby.  Our baby.”
Our baby.  He couldn’t stop saying it.  
He hadn’t known about Oliver until a few days before he was born, and he always felt robbed of all that time in the womb when he could’ve bonded with his son.  Tina had been a three-day fling at a music festival, and he never had any intention of seeing her again.  He’d been prepared to do the right thing though, to be a family even if it killed him, but then Tina just handed him a baby boy a week old and drove away, as if he knew what the fuck he was doing.  
Robin had been in the car waiting for him when it happened.  She saw him standing there in the street holding that screaming baby in a blanket and right then and there, a mother was born.  
He put his hand on Astrid’s stomach, gently.  “Can I feel it move yet? The baby?”
She laughed into her hand as she wiped her nose.  “I’m barely seven weeks along, silly.” 
He curled down like he always did when he put his head in her lap, but instead he placed his ear on her stomach, massaging her thigh with his hand. “I don’t think you can hear me, little one, but daddy has loved your mother his whole life and I love you very much.”
His next words were to Astrid; a murmur into the meat of her. “Will you let me love you now? The way I’ve always wanted to? Will you stay with me?”
She scratched her fingers through his hair, and then held his head there when his arms went around her waist. They stayed like that for a long while.
A bit later, in bed with her head on his chest, he was half asleep when she whispered: “You know that twins run in my family, right?”
—------
“A geriatric pregnancy,” Steve told you from across the bar when you were both back at work the next evening to the tune of Connection by Elastica. 
You made a face while you put some limes and shots of tequila on your tray.  
“That’s what they call it, I guess, when a woman is over 35,” he shrugged.  “A geriatric pregnancy.  So, I’m forcing her to take it easy.”
He was letting you and Shana in on the good news, and he’d been grinning from ear to ear for so long, his cheeks hurt.  His gold incisor caught the red lights like it had a ruby in it.  He’d even been smiling in his sleep, somehow, as Astrid noticed when she got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. 
“I’m so happy for you,” you mirrored his enthusiasm.  “Does Eddie know? Wayne?”
“Not yet,” he made a loose fist and cracked his knuckles. “We wanted to tell Uncle together.  I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, but I couldn’t wait,” he added sheepishly. “She knows I can’t keep a secret like that.”
“I’ll wait and let you give Eddie the news,” you told him.  “I think he’d rather hear it from you.”
“Where is that War Machine?” Steve looked around, adjusting his sunglasses on his head.  “I owe him a drink.”
“That’s a good question,” you glanced at the clock that was up by the wall-mounted tv.  “He said he was going to stop by, but that was almost two hours ago.”  It didn’t concern you too much because your boyfriend was a busy guy, and last-minute things were always popping up at the shop.  
It was on your to-do list to call John on your break and let him know you were turning down his offer.  The more you thought about it, the more you wondered if he’d planned to hire you on merit, or if he just wanted to get into your pants.  When you thought about the possibility of the latter, it made your blood pressure spike.  
You delivered a round of drinks to a table, and on your way back to the bar, there was a man in a suit coming through the door, holding a briefcase.  
Steve gave him a nod when they made eye contact, but he didn’t ask to check his ID because the man had a graying hairline and was possibly mid-fifties at the least.  He was fit though, and had a very confident demeanor about him.  He looked like he was there to do business.  
“My name is Saul,” he introduced himself to Steve with a handshake and Steve stood up from his stool to be eye level with him.  “I’m looking for Steve Harrington.”
“You found him,” Steve rolled his neck, wondering what he could possibly want from him.  
Saul gave a stiff smile that did not reach his eyes. 
By then you were at the bar, acting like you were busy so that you could eavesdrop.
“What’s this about?” Steve pushed the sleeves of his flannel up to his elbows, exposing his tattoos.  
“Well, it would behoove you to give me a moment of your time,” he moved one side of his suit jacket back to shove his hand in his pocket, rocking back on his heels.  
“I have some business to discuss with you on behalf of Charlene Gregson.”
—------
John Gregson had no idea he was being followed.
He vaguely registered the sound of the loud pipes from the motorcycles rolling up to Margie’s diner, but he was having a late lunch with a business associate and didn’t pay much attention to it.  He preferred white tablecloth lunch meetings, but in Hawkins there weren’t many choices.  Their BLT was unbeatable though, as was the chocolate cream pie.  He’d have to calculate them both into his low-carb diet and spend extra time at the gym in the morning.  
He had his back to the door, making notes in his date book as the man across from him spoke over the sound of clattering dishes and silverware.  
He felt the shadows pass over the table, but he figured it was a group on the way to sit at a booth further down.  
But they came to a halt and loomed there, smelling of leather and tobacco.
John glanced over the top of his reading glasses at his companion first and saw that the color had drained from his face.  
There were four members of the Coffin Kings glaring down at them.  
Eddie frowned at the man with John and jerked his thumb to the side.  “Get up,” he said.  “Find somewhere else to be, I need to talk to your friend here.”
Devlin sank into the booth behind John while Van stood across the aisle flipping his butterfly knife, and Lucas stayed next to Eddie.
“Now, hold on just a—” John began to protest, about to get to his feet, but Lucas clapped a hand onto his shoulder and pushed him back down with calm, steady force.
His companion’s eyes darted from Eddie to John a few times before he gathered his things in a rush, tucking all of his papers under his arm, and shimmied past Van while holding his breath.  It was clear he had no intention of going to wait at another table, he was down the row of booths and out the front door in a flash.
With a heavy sigh, Eddie sank into the seat across from John, wallet chain dragging on the vinyl as he settled in, stretching his arms wide along the back of the bench.  
Lucas turned his back on the two but stood in the same spot, feet planted wide, hands in his pockets, blocking John from leaving.
With a resolute nod, John put his pen down.  “Have we met? I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure—”
“Cut the crap, man,” Eddie huffed with a lazy grin and hooded eyes.  “You know exactly who I am.”
John took his glasses off and tucked them inside his jacket pocket.  “Fair enough. How can I help you?”
Eddie plucked a pack of smokes out of the front pocket of his cut and motioned for Devlin to toss him a lighter.
“This is a no smoking section,” John reminded him, pointing to the sign on the wall with a red line through a cigarette.
Eddie stared at him as he lit the end and sucked in his cheeks until the cherry glowed orange. 
He waited until after a generous exhale to speak, directing the smoke into John’s leftover pie.  
“You see, John—can I call you John? I’ve been really
patient when it comes to this infatuation you have with my girl.  More patient than you deserve, I think.”
John clicked his tongue.  “Now, you misunderstand me, I—”
“I haven’t misunderstood shit,” Eddie scoffed a laugh. 
The waitress came over, and John was sure she was going to tell him to put his cigarette out, but instead she just gave him the most flirtatious smile.  “You want some coffee, hun? You hungry?”
Eddie finished taking another drag and winked at her.  “Just coffee for me, darlin’,” and then he gestured to the other Coffin Kings. “Get these boys whatever they want and wrap it up to go.  It’s on John’s tab.”
Once she was gone, Eddie continued.  “Here’s what’s gonna happen, slick,” he reached over to tap the ash out on John’s plate.  “Once she finishes this painting, you’re gonna to pay her more than what you initially offered, and then you’re never going to see her or talk to her ever again.  Comprendo?”
John used the back of his fingers to push the plate a few inches away, dabbing the sides of his mouth with his napkin.  “My offer for her to run my gallery in Chicago had no devious intentions, I assure you.  I genuinely believe she is that talented.”
Eddie ground his teeth, jaw muscles bulging.  “She’s beyond talented, you got that right, but she doesn’t want to work for you.  You’re a creep.  Throwing money and big promises around to get what you want.  I know your type.”
“My type?” 
“Has your wife ever mentioned me?” Eddie inquired, exhaling into John’s face.
He watched John visibly go rigid.  
Rhonda set Eddie’s coffee cup on a saucer down in front of him with extra creamer and poured him a steaming cup.
John cleared his throat.  “I think it would be in her best interest—”
“You don’t know what’s best for her,” Eddie bit.  “Who are you, her fucking dad?”
He’d said it a bit too loud and a few people from other tables craned their necks to follow the sound.  
Eddie leaned forward, whispering tensely.  “I don’t think I have to tell you that I have friends in low places. People who will do what I say at the drop of a hat.  You think you can hide behind your money?  You’re wrong.  The people who pump your gas and make your food and clean your bathroom?  They’re all with me. You’ll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life.  If you fuck with me on this, if you seek my girl out after I’ve told you not to?  Well, then, I hope you like dentures sweetheart because I’m gonna pull your perfect, pearly teeth out one by one.”
By the time he was done, his hand had curled into a fist on the table.  He spread the ringed fingers out wide and then made the fist again, making John look at it.
Eddie snubbed out his smoke in John’s pie with a sizzle and then settled back in his seat, relaxing his shoulders.  He cocked an eyebrow up.  “Are we good?”
John sat back as well.  “We’re good,” he acknowledged stiffly, adjusting his suit jacket.
Eddie slapped the table and gave John a wink.  “Well, this was fun,” he chuckled.  “We should catch up more often.”
He took a quick gulp of his coffee and slid out of the booth.  
He stopped to bend over and whisper, “don’t forget to tip well, slick,” in John’s ear on his way out.  
—-------
By the time Eddie showed up at the Velvet Hammer, swatting away plumes of second-hand smoke as he went, everyone knew that Steve was going to be a dad again.  Even the new customers who’d barely just walked in the door that evening.  
Astrid had prepared for this.
One of the many complicated reasons she’d waited more than a week to tell him was because she’d known that, if he knew, he’d be announcing it to everyone he passed by on the street.
Steve jumped from his stool and hugged Eddie.  “I’ve got great news, man,” he clapped Eddie a few times on the arm, over the thick leather jacket he had on.  
Eddie had been on his way across the room to you when his friend stopped him, so the sudden affection took him off guard.  “I like good news,” he caught your eye over Steve’s shoulder and smirked.  
Steve let him know that he was going to be a dad again, which Eddie assumed would happen sooner than later, but he was surprised and delighted to know that Astrid was the mom.  They both knew that she’d been told it would be nearly impossible for her to conceive.  
Steve leaned in.  “This proves it, man, I have a magic dick.”
“Sure you do,” Eddie scoffed, patting Steve on the cheek a few times.  “Only took you 15 years.”
Before you could greet him, Eddie was already in front of you, pulling you flush to his body.  He started to walk and you took backwards steps to stay with him.  “Can you take your break right now?”
“I wasn’t going to for another hour but—”
“I need to talk to you,” he hushed.  
“Um, okay, well,” you glanced over at Shana and she waved you off.  
His mouth found yours the second you were obscured in the dark hallway.  You figured he’d be escorting you out to the alley where you usually took your breaks with him so he could smoke, but this time, he pulled you into one of the two unisex bathrooms and locked it behind him. The bulbs inside were red, and it set an eerie, bloodwashed glow.
“This place sees a lot of action,” you mumbled into his kiss as he worked your skirt up so that he could take a handful of the meat of your ass.  “I like to call it Steve’s Office.”
Before you knew what was happening, he was hoisting you up onto the sink counter with a grunt.  Your thighs and bum were fully exposed now, covered in fishnet stockings, and one of his hands held your face while the other rubbed a knuckle over the heat between your legs.  Your panties and stockings were preventing him from going further, but not for long.  
You were about to protest, to say you had to get back to work, or to remind him how many women Steve had probably railed in that very spot, but
Fuck
And just when you softened with a shaky moan, he kissed a trail down your jaw and throat, with a few nibbles in between.
You whimpered, spreading your legs further apart, Doc Marten booted feet locking onto his thighs to keep him close.
“I have something..” smooch “...that I need
” smooch “...to ask you
” smooch
“Right now?” You palmed his hard length over his denim and then went to work at undoing his belt buckle. “We only have 10 minutes.”
He leaned back, letting his cherry bitten lips hover there at eye level.  His bangs were getting too long, he needed a trim, and you brushed them to the side, off of his eyebrows. 
“Do you want to move in with me?”
You blinked a few times. “Into your apartment?”
“No, no,” eager lips found your mouth again and his thumb rubbed circles over the taut nub of your nipple through your shirt.  “The big farmhouse down on Marigold Road.  I pointed it out once when we drove by.”
You stopped.  “The old Ferguson place? Aren’t there people already living there?”
“Not anymore,” he could feel your arousal soaking through your underwear and he hissed, grinding his erection against your thigh. “I want to buy it. For us.”
In your desperation, you reached down and clawed at the section of black fishnet that was keeping him from you, ripping a little further down your thigh than you’d intended to.
Eddie kissed down the front of you on the way to his knees, and then your underwear was pulled to one side and his tongue was on your swollen clit, rolling in circles there.  
You dug your fingers into his hair with one hand and supported yourself on the ledge with the other.  He sucked a few times, and then his tongue went inside of you, and you bit your lip, squirming to try and repress a scream.  
“That is a big step,” you gasped. “Moving in together.”
For the longest time, you couldn’t see yourself living with anyone other than a roommate ever again.
He hummed on your now soaked cunt and then kitten licked it a few times.  “I’m ready. Are you?”
You didn’t respond at first because your eyes were rolling back in your head, so he popped off to get to his feet, his chin glistening.  He spread your thighs further apart to make room for his hips and undid his zipper.
His pupils bloomed wide as he searched your lustful eyes, insecurities making his heart rate quicken.  “Are you not ready? I mean, do you not want that? Is it too soo—”
But then you silenced him with your mouth, lapping up your juices from his chin, moving away a strand of his hair that had stuck there. “I want to see the inside. Could we go look at it together?”
“Yeah we can,” he pushed his boxers down and rubbed the tip of his leaking cock along your slit. “I’ll call the real estate dude in the morning.”
You clung to his neck, jaw going slack as he sank in. “I’ll have to check with Charlie.”
He chucked into the kiss at you mentioning your cat, and then he was stretching you out, easing his way in, aching to be one with you.
“Deeper
more,” you whimpered, and then you each let out a muffled cry when he filled you to the hilt, flush inside of your pulsing heat.
He rested his forehead on yours and began to work his hips, thrusting deep and retreating with a curl of his hips so that you could feel every vein, every ridge, but then you were clenching around him, and he sped up with a curse, a thumb working at your clit.
“This
fuck, I’m going to cum so hard inside of you,” he admitted with a huff.  His belt buckle clinked against his zipper with every thrust.  “You want that? You want all of me?”
“Fuck, Eddie, yes,” You whined, clinging to him as stars exploded behind your eyes. 
His strong fingers dug into your flesh to hold your legs in place, and after a few more shaking pumps, he was spilling inside of you, each of you a moaning mess of “I love yous”, clawing at the other to be closer.  
Someone banged on the door just as the two of you were catching your breath and Eddie was still inside of you.
“Get lost!” Eddie yelled, not caring if it was a customer.
“Are you two having a tea party in there? Cabbage Patch meeting perhaps?” 
It was Steve, and then you could hear his ruckus laughter as he banged another few times just to be cheeky.
You adjusted your underwear back into place, and Eddie fastened his jeans before he helped you down off the counter.  You pulled your skirt down and checked yourself in the mirror.
Yikes.
The rip down your inner thigh was painfully obvious.  You wondered if shredding them in a few more places would make it more of “a look”, but then realized that the lighting in the Hammer was not great, and it wasn’t unheard of for someone to accidentally rip their stockings at work.  
But what about when Eddie’s seed started to drip down your leg?
“You go,” you shooed him away as he stood there adjusting the collar of his jacket, waiting for you. “I need to pee.”
He was looking at himself in the mirror, rubbing lipstick off his cheek, but then he turned just before grabbing for the door.  “If you don’t want to, you know, live together right away, I get it.  But with Katie moving in with Robin and all, I figured—”
“You figured we could be roommates?” 
He smirked, giving a bashful shrug.  “A little more than that, maybe.  Roommates with benefits.”
“Yeah?” You sank against his chest, forever helpless to his gravitational pull.  “What kind of benefits?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he rubbed the sides of your arms with his calloused hands. “I’ll make you pancakes.”
“You think you can make pancakes?” 
“Baby, I've told you before, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
—-------
“WAYNE!”
Uncle entered the Hammer and everyone screamed his name like he was Norm in an episode of Cheers.
It had been a while since he dropped by unannounced, and he looked better than ever.
Still much thinner than he had been the year before, and it was hard for him to catch his breath sometimes, but his eyes were bright, and he wore a soft smile more often than not.  
Maybe the chemo was working? Maybe there was hope?
Devlin had been sitting on the stool at the bar next to Eddie, but Eddie was quick to tell him to take a hike when Wayne showed up.
“What did the doctor say?” He asked as his uncle straddled the stool and got comfortable.  He was in a green and white plaid work shirt and had decided to leave his Coffin Kings leather at home.  
Wayne gave a single nod and patted around for his smokes out of habit, even though he’d given it up when he started treatment.  “Just heard Steve's gonna be a dad again. He better treat her right, that's all I can say." It was obvious he was damn near giddy at the thought, Eddie could see it in the way a smile kept tugging at the sides of his mouth. "I’m sick of talking about doctors and my goddamn condition. Want to forget about it for a night.”
Eddie respected that, and tapped the bar to order him one of those non-alcoholic beers that they kept cold specifically for Wayne and one other regular patron.  
You barely had a chance to give Wayne a shoulder squeeze when Robin burst in through the door, frantically scanning the crowd.  There was a dancer on the backstage, working her way down the poll, and Steve had gone over to remind a few rowdy customers to behave themselves.  Robin rushed over and met him halfway, in front of the glowing jukebox.
He found no comfort in the way she looked like she’d been crying.
“What’s going on?” Felt like his heart literally stopped beating in his chest. “Are you okay?”
“The spare key,” she held her palm out.  “You used it last time and now I’m locked out of the house.”
He felt around in his back pocket.  “Where are your regular keys?”
She rolled her eyes, bouncing in frustration. “I lost them somewhere, okay? At work maybe, I’m not sure, but Oliver just threw a fit, I’m on my period, and we’re all just in a really bad mood and want to go home.”
“Alright, alright, here take my key,” he wrestled it off the metal ring to hand it to her.  “Just remember to leave the back door unlocked for me.  Is Oliver in the car?”
“No, he’s at Katie’s place with her, I needed to take a drive alone so that I could scream,” she snatched the key from him.
“Shit, you had me worried for a second.”
“Sorry,” admittedly, she felt like she was overreacting to something so small and fixable, but more likely her tears were from an accumulation of things.  Once the panic spike subsided, her eyes landed on half of a white envelope peeking out of the pocket of his Coffin Kings leather, right above his TAZ insignia.  She always teased him and said his official nickname should’ve been Dingus.
“What’s this?” It looked like it had some official lettering in the corner, and she plucked it out to look closer.
They made their way back to the front so he could keep an eye on the door, and she frowned at the name of a law office in the corner. 
“I don’t know, I haven’t opened it yet,” he shrugged.  “Some douchey lawyer brought it by, said it was from Charlene.  It was busy when he came in, so he gave me that to read and told me to call him in the morning.”
“Fucking Charlene?” She balked.  “What, is she suing you for not wanting to be her boyfriend?”  
“I haven’t had time to open in, but it wouldn’t surprise me.”
A group of people came in, and two looked like they were 16, so Steve carded them.  
Robin ripped the top of the envelope open. You stepped in front of her on your way to a table, and the two of you collided.
You said a quick apology and were about to ask if she wanted a drink, when Shana shouted across the bar to tell Robin the phone was for her.
“It’s your boss from the motel,” Shana continued, holding her hand over the bottom half of the receiver.
Robin gave a heavy, exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose.  “She’s going to ask me to work a double shift tomorrow, I just know it.”
She shoved the paperwork at you that she’d just unfolded, but not yet read.  “Hold this for me? Be right back.”
“Oh—okay,” you had the paperwork pressed flat to your chest as you made your way over to stand at Eddie’s shoulder.  He was talking to Wayne, but he reached back and squeezed your thigh in greeting.  
You hadn’t meant to look, to eavesdrop on their private business.
But once glance was all it took
For you to be fully invested
Charlene’s name was the first thing to catch your eye
And then, The Velvet Hammer
You took a few long blinks, unsure if what you were looking at was real.
You mouthed a few of the words quietly just to make sure you were reading them correctly.
The way you froze made Eddie curious, and he turned his head to see what you were doing.
“What’s up babe? What is that?”
“It’s, uh—” you stammered.  “It’s Steve’s.  You’re never going to believe this, but um—”
“Can I see it?” 
He tried to meet your eyes as he took it from you, but you couldn’t seem to look away from the words on the paper.  Your mind was reeling.
Robin returned just as Eddie held the papers out in front of him, and she steadied herself with a hand on his back to read over his shoulder.
Steve meandered over; his curiosity officially piqued at what you were all huddled together about.  
“What’s it say?”  He had a smoke bobbing between his lips and his hands in his pockets.  “Did I win the lottery or somethin’?”
He chuckled, but then you all turned to him in unison, unblinking, mouths agape.
“Yeah man,” a smile curled on Eddie’s lips.  “Actually, you kinda did.”
—------
Charlene was on the plane to Hawaii when she read the newspaper article.
A glass of first-class champagne and a window to her right, an empty aisle seat to her left.  
There he was, right on the front page of The Hawkins Post: 
Steve.
In a bigger city, a business changing hands could fly under the radar, but in a small town, it was newsworthy when a local biker and bouncer becomes a business owner overnight.
A Cinderella story, the reporter called it.
The cover photo was of him out on the sidewalk, standing next to the red door entrance to the Velvet Hammer.  Shana was in the photo with him, as were Robin, Jackie, Erika, and you.  
Not pictured was Eddie Munson, whom the article mentioned Steve had chosen to take on as a partner.
The article talked about their plans for the Hammer, including bringing in a tattoo studio to the vacant storage space next door.  
She ran her finger over his face on the newsprint.
It wasn’t until the end of the article that she got the wind knocked out of her:
“Steve and his longtime partner, Astrid Bautista, are expecting their first child together in the spring.”
She hadn’t expected that.
She had to look away and take a generous gulp of champagne.  
Her eyes got a little wet and her vision blurred, but she read it again.
“Did you miss me?” Billy sank into the seat next to her with his sunglasses on and a white shirt unbuttoned almost to the waist of his jeans. He smiled around the pink gum he was chewing and craned his neck to see what she was reading, but she folded the paper hastily and turned it over.
She didn’t answer him, she just stared out the window over the clouds and tried to forget she ever felt a thing.  
------
authors note: wow, we did it. This is my first fic series to finish ever 😭 If you've made it this far, you know how much this story and the characters have evolved since those first couple chapters. If this were an actual novel, I'd go back and make it all sync up, give it more continuity, and reveal nicknames like War Machine and Taz earlier in the game. But the cool thing about posting this way for a fandom is that you, the reader, are able to see in real time how the characters develop a mind of their own and take over the story in a way not even the writer can predict. In this case specifically, you can also see how I went from having no idea how to write a reader insert fic to becoming more and more comfortable with it.
I never had any intention of making Charlene a villain. She was literally based off of the wealthy woman in the Bruce Springsteen video for his song I'm on Fire. Just a gal who had a crush on her mechanic. Some of you voiced that you wished Charlene could get killed, or hurt somehow, and for those of you, you can trust that she is hurting. Knowing that Steve will be having a family with someone else is a deep wound.
I've had several requests for a separate biker Steve story with a new reader, and until two chapters ago, I fully intended to follow through on that. But the more I wrote him with Astrid, the more I felt it was wrong to keep them apart. If you are a fan of their love story, I highly recommend visiting THIS masterlist from @texasblues who created Astrid's character. But I do plan to bring a slightly different biker Steve back in a new au, stay tuned đŸ„°
This of course, is not the end. I plan to drop an epilogue on you all when you least expect it, and it will take place a year or two after the events here. If you are a friend of mine, you will laugh at this because whenever I say I'm going to write an epilogue, I never do. But this time I mean it.
I can't express in words how much your comments, asks, and messages about this story have meant, and will always mean to me. I was living through one of the darkest years of my life when I joined tumblr back in April and started writing this fic, and you all have held me together, whether you realize it or not. I love you and am deeply grateful for you all.
Taglist: @notsobubblybaby @unfocused81 @aysheashea @etherealglimmer@manicmagicmayhem @dream-a-little-nightmare@chaoticgood-munson @emxcast @rhirojo @bexreadstoomuch @micheledawn1975 @falling-solar-system@secretdryrose
@whatwedontdointheshadows @miarosso @seventhlevelofhell @corrodedcoffincumslut @lofaewrites @goldyghoul @chloe-6123 @kelsiegrin @chelebelletx @stylesxmunson @kurdtbean@dandelionnfluff @clincallyonline17 @tlclick73 @eddiemunson95 @sidthedollface2 @hideoutside @truffleshuffle12 @tenthmoon @texasblues@emilyslutface@mmunson86@onegirlmanytales@laylaloves-ed@dashingdeb16@eddiiiieeee @ick90 @dashingdeb16 @polyestermonster @trixyvixx @atomickaratel8dy @kiyastrf94 @allthingsjoeq @eddiesxangel @razzieth @corrodeddeadlydoll @erinekc @angietherose @sllooney @writinginthetwilight @moonbeamsandmayhem @brianamunson92 @joannamuns9n @bellalillyrose @alba8688 @chevelle724
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halothanic · 1 year ago
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“you don’t wanna get mixed up with a guy like me.. i’m a loner, dottie, a rebel..”
this is probably my favorite thing i’ve ever drawn, bc it truly comes from the heart. pee-wee’s big adventure has been one of my top five films since i'd seen it as a kid, and i love it and laugh more each time i watch it, which is why i jumped at the opportunity to draw this poster for one of my favorite theaters that sold out at their screening a couple days ago! i couldn't be more proud or pleased.
i put a lot of work into the concept and details! pee-wee's costumes are in order of appearance, and of course, as said at the bottom, it's based on kraftwerk's tour de france cover, due to his dream in the opening scene. what could be better than combining an excellent album and film? i can’t put into words how much he impacted my personality, decor taste, and sense of humor so i’ll leave it at a simple “thanks for everything, pee-wee”! without you, i would have never started to feel comfortable being, in total seriousness, a silly little guy.
i have pee-wee stickers for sale in my shop, which i just resurrected, and will be listing this print, as well as a couple others, in the near future!
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achromatophoric · 5 months ago
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Alright so I know you’ve got crossover brainrot. So. For each Wednesday character, what are their favorite Tim Burton movies?
Wednesday Addams: Sweeney Todd - For all the obvious reasons.
Enid: Frankenweenie (2012) - She saw it in theaters and fell in love with Sparky. Beloved because of puppy! and not fitting in. Followed closely by Corpse Bride.
Thing: Edward Scissorhands - He had an uncredited part as one of Edward’s spare hands that was cut up. Has the scars to prove it.
Eugene: Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children - Saw it in theaters. Otherwise doesn’t really watch older movies.
Yoko: Beetlejuice - Rumor has it that the titular character had a direct influence on her rizz style.
Bianca: Big Fish - Has never actually seen it, but enjoys arguing with people when they inevitably try to point out the connection between the film title and her being a siren. Her actual favorite is Ed Woods.
Xavier: Sleepy Hollow - Because he’s a basic emo and Christina Ricci reminds him of Wednesday.
Divina: None - She prefers Guillermo del Toro.
Kent: Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure - Classic stoner flick.
Ajax: What We Do in the Shadows - Always, always mistakes this for Dark Shadows. Will respond with “Oh riiiight” upon being corrected, then immediately forgets about it.
Tyler: Edward Scissorhands - His mother’s favorite movie. They would habitually watch it together. Francois would even cut his hair like Edward’s.
Sheriff Galpin: Anything but Edward Scissorhands.
Weems: Batman Returns - She had a crush on both Michelle Pfeiffer and Michael Keaton. May have had bothersome dreams about a certain roommate in the Catwoman suit.
Rowan: Batman - Vibed with his vigilante streak.
Thornhill: None - No time for movies while plotting genocide. She did catch a bit of Sleepy Hollow and thought one of the actresses was quite attractive.
Gomez and Pugsley: Mars Attacks! - Chaos and mayhem! Bonding time between Father and Son.
Morticia: Beetlejuice - All about Lydia and the general aesthetic.
Fester: N/A - Movies blur together for him, but he’s certain that he’s had drinks with Beetlejuice during at least some of his many clinical deaths. When shown the film, he expresses confusion and asks why Beetlejuice isn’t a cartoon character like he remembers.
Lurch: Frankenweenie (1984) - Same reasons as Enid. They bond after doing a viewing of both versions
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arch-obsessed · 1 year ago
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Inside the Barbie Dreamhouse, a Fuchsia Fantasy Inspired by Palm Springs
Barbie’s Dreamhouse is no place for the bashful. “There are no walls and no doors,” says Greta Gerwig via email. “Dreamhouses assume that you never have anything you wish was private—there is no place to hide.” That layered domestic metaphor has proved rich fodder for the filmmaker, whose live-action homage to the iconic Mattel doll hits theaters July 21.
To translate this panopticon play world to the screen, Gerwig enlisted production designer Sarah Greenwood and set decorator Katie Spencer, the London-based team behind such period realms as Pride & Prejudice and Anna Karenina. The two took inspiration from Palm Springs midcentury modernism, including Richard Neutra’s 1946 Kaufmann House and other icons photographed by Slim Aarons. “Everything about that era was spot-on,” says Greenwood, who strove “to make Barbie real through this unreal world.”
Neither she nor Spencer had ever owned a Barbie before, so they ordered a Dreamhouse off Amazon to study. “The scale was quite strange,” recalls Spencer, explaining how they adjusted its rooms’ quirky proportions to 23 percent smaller than human size for the set. Says Gerwig: “The ceiling is actually quite close to one’s head, and it only takes a few paces to cross the room. It has the odd effect of making the actors seem big in the space but small overall.”
Erected at the Warner Bros. Studios lot outside London, Barbie’s cinematic home reinterprets Neutra’s work as a three-story fuchsia fantasy, with a slide that coils into a kidney-shaped pool. “I wanted to capture what was so ridiculously fun about the Dreamhouses,” says Gerwig, alluding to past incarnations like the bohemian 1970s model (outfitted with trompe l’oeil Tiffany lamps) and the 2000 Queen Anne Victorian manse, complete with Philippe Starck lounge chairs. “Why walk down stairs when you can slide into your pool? Why trudge up stairs when you take an elevator that matches your dress?” Her own references ranged from Pee-wee’s Big Adventure to Wayne Thiebaud’s paintings of pies to Gene Kelly’s tiny painter’s garret in An American in Paris.
For Barbie’s bedroom, the team paired a clamshell headboard upholstered in velvet with a sequined coverlet. Her closet, meanwhile, reveals coordinated outfits in toy-box vitrines. “It’s very definitely a house for a single woman,” says Greenwood, noting that when the first Dreamhouse (a cardboard foldout) was sold in 1962 it was rare for a woman to own her own home. Adds Spencer: “She is the ultimate feminist icon.”
In Barbie, as in previous films like Little Women and Lady Bird, Gerwig set out to realize a whole world. “We were literally creating the alternate universe of Barbie Land,” says the director, who aimed for “authentic artificiality” at every opportunity. As a case in point, she cites the use of a hand-painted backdrop rather than CGI to capture the sky and the San Jacinto Mountains. “Everything needed to be tactile, because toys are, above all, things you touch.”
Everything also needed to be pink. “Maintaining the ‘kid-ness’ was paramount,” Gerwig says. “I wanted the pinks to be very bright, and everything to be almost too much.” In other words, she continues, she didn’t want to “forget what made me love Barbie when I was a little girl.” Construction, Greenwood notes, caused an international run on the fluorescent shade of Rosco paint. “The world,” she laughs, “ran out of pink.”
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moviesludge · 2 months ago
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tagged by @thechurchofsplatterdaysaints
Do you make your bed? Not usually, but oddly enough I did during covid. Something about doing it then made sense to me but I haven't really thought about it. And then I did it when my ex used to nag me about it. I do it sometimes.
Fave number? Don't really care now but I used to like 13 and 14.
What's your job? Unemployed. Would like to be employed but refuse to work a job I hate unless I have no other option. The stress of my last job sucked bad. I help my family though (parents and sister), and there's a lot to do. My dad does absolutely everything and he's 70, so you know. Shit will be changing sooner than later.
Go back to school? I'm not ruling it out.
Can you parallel park? I can. It's weird too, because the first time I ever did it was completely out of necessity and it was a dark night and it was a really small space too. I couldn't believe it when I did it the first time. And I don't consider myself that good of a driver.
Job you had that would surprise people? I guess the most surprising maybe is call center supervisor for eharmony. Or Blockbuster? I dunno.
Aliens real? I feel like the scope of the universe makes this a certainty and it amazes me how many people think it's a ridiculous idea. Talk about main character syndrome!
Can you drive stick? I never had the means to even learn
Guilty pleasure? Eating stuff I know I'm not supposed to (very sparingly!)
Tattoos? no but I think about it sometimes. I feel like I'd get sick of it no matter what it was.
Fave color? too many. earthtones and ryb are up there.
Fave type of music? probably all the stuff in the post-punk/new wave/no wave/power pop sphere. I'm picky about metal, but when I like something I like it a lot. Also been finding out there's a fair amount of rap stuff I dig. I really like soul and funk music and some oldies (50s & 60s, not modern oldies which are 80s).
Do you like puzzles? Word/mind shit, trivia, board games, etc. Yeah I love Jeopardy and I subscribe to NYT games. I do the crosswords, wordle, strands, spelling bee, and connections games every day. I also like nonagrams and I'll do a sudoku once in a while.
Phobias? just making it in the world, especially when my parents are gone. My parents getting sick and/or dying. Climate change causing a global food supply collapse in my lifetime. The U.S. falling fully into fascism. Basically things that are all certain to happen sooner or later
Favorite childhood sport? Basketball and baseball. Never liked playing soccer or football.
Talk to yourself? Yeah mostly when I'm irritated about something.
Movies you adore? Pee-Wee's Big Adventure, Evil Dead II, Speed Racer, Starship Troopers, Black Christmas, Bad Santa, My Cousin Vinny, Tremors, Gremlins 2, Better Off Dead, Big Trouble In Little China, Boxer's Omen, Terrorvision, etc
Coffee or Tea? both, but mostly coffee. I tried chai tea recently though and I like it a lot.
1st thing you wanted to be when grew up? The way my mind is, I didn't really think about things this way. All I remember desiring as a kid about being an adult was being on even ground with other adults and being given basic respect instead of being treated like a little kid. Like I wanted to sit on the couch and have my feet touch the floor. I wondered what my face would look like as an adult. The idea of a far off future job was irrelevant to me.
tagging @donnerpartyofone @steamedtangerine @jesusismyhostage
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bitter69uk · 7 months ago
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Recently watched: psychological thriller The Morning After (1986). Tagline: “Last night she drank to forget. Today she woke up to a murder. Is he her last hope or the last man she should trust?” Dir: Sidney Lumet.
On Thanksgiving morning, washed-up, middle-aged alcoholic actress Viveca Van Loren (Jane Fonda) awakens with a thunderous hangover in an unfamiliar bedroom lying next to an unfamiliar man. (Her first line of dialogue: “What the fuck?”). She was black-out drunk and has zero recollection of the night before. Understandably, Viveca panics when she realizes her bed-mate is a corpse – with a bloody knife protruding from his chest! Is someone trying to frame her for his murder? Is she in danger? Turner Kendall (Jeff Bridges), a sympathetic ex-cop with problems of his own, seemingly offers Viveca a lifeline – and maybe a chance for redemption.
I hadn’t revisited The Morning After (currently streaming for free on YouTube) in many years. I love its atmospheric view of the underbelly of Los Angeles and Viveca’s life on the fringes of show business. (Befitting a fallen glamour girl, she resides in a frou-frou dusty rose apartment in a pink stucco Art Deco building). It probably succeeds best as a downbeat character study of the tentative budding romance between the unlikely duo of Viveca and Turner. Fonda slays, but it would be interesting to see how her peers Tuesday Weld or Faye Dunaway would interpret Viveca (in her broader moments, Fonda sometimes seems to be doing a Dunaway impersonation). And with a few minor tweaks it’s easy to imagine The Morning After making a great woman-in-peril noir vehicle for Crawford, Stanwyck or Davis in the 1950s (it recalls Davis as an ageing actress on the skids in The Star). The cast includes Raul Julia, Diane Salinger (Simone from Pee-wee’s Big Adventure!) and a fleeting appearance from an unknown young Kathy Bates. One nice detail: Viveca relies on loyal gay confidantes for support. On the lam and needing a change of clothes, she visits a drag queen friend. Before that, a sympathetic gay bartender (played by Bruce Vilanch!) comps her a free drink. Best exchange: Alex: “I was being groomed to be the next Vera Miles.” Turner: “Who?” Alex: “See! I was getting ready to replace somebody the public didn't even know was missing!”
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thephilosopheroftheboudoir · 1 year ago
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PAUL REUBENS WAS AN HONORARY PUNK
My earliest memory of Paul Reubens was his role in Cheech and Chong’s Nice Dreams where he played a coke dealer. Cheech and Chong give him all their money to buy some toot but Pee Wee disappears. They track him down, only to find he is a patient at a psychiatric hospital and they have to wander through a crowd of lunatics only to find that he is mentally too far gone to tell them what he did with their money. If you watch any DVD’s of this movie that were made after 1988, you will notice this scene has been permanently deleted.
So a few later, I was getting involved with the small but growing hardcore punk scene in my city. Pee Wee’s Big Adventure was released in the theaters around then. It was an instant success and I went to see it three times. By the second and third viewing I started to recognize that more and more audience members were people I knew from the punk scene.
Many of us in the counter-culture loved Pee Wee. For one thing, many of us rode bicycles. It was our second favorite form of transportation behind skateboards since most people we knew couldn’t afford cars back then. City buses were still the primary method of movement in a dark city where wind, rain, and snow were the norm. But when the sun came out, we rode around in packs on our bikes. Any time there was a show, you could see them chained up by the dozens somewhere near the venue. They were our vehicles out of our world. We rode them in the moonlit cemeteries. They were safer than public transport when we went off to buy drugs. Sometimes we rode out to the suburbs to go pool hopping; that meant skinny-dipping, uninvited of course, in people’s back yards while they slept comfortably in their beds. That stunt ended one night when some guy fired a shotgun at us from his bedroom window.
Being the city kids that we were, we got used to our bicycles disappearing. It was always the same. No matter what kind of lock we used, somebody from the deep inner city used their ingenuity to find some way to pick the lock or cut the chain and they always left a beat up old bike in its place, the kind of rickety thing that looked like it had been stripped of all its parts, beat down and battered to the point where some kid knew if he didn’t ride it one last time out to the edge of the city to steal a better one, he would be bikeless for a long time to come.
When Pee Wee Herman’s bike got stolen, it resonated with us punks like nothing else ever could.
Pee Wee was one of us. It wasn’t just that his bicycle got pinched in Pee Wee’s big Adventure, he was also an inherently subversive character. He lived in some nether-world where he was not quite a child but not quite a man. His friends were all unapologetically freaks and weirdos, some of which were of other races and some of which even had mohawks. When his bike got stolen, he lost his soul. It was a hero’s journey through the underworld of America, the story of a man who knew when he found that one missing piece all the magic would return to his life. Punks were often people who felt that same absence, When we spiked our hair, ripped out clothes, donned combat boots or Chuck Taylors, drove pins through our noses, and sliced up our arms with razors, we were embarking on our own journey through the underbelly of the world, one that involved drugs, alcohol, slam dancing, record collecting, and sex between cars in restaurant parking lots. If you ever wonder why your car door handle is sticky, I can tell you there is a sickly humorous reason for that. Sometimes we spent nights in jail and had fist fights on street corners with conservatives who didn’t approve of our way of living free in a supposedly free society. If you think the MAGA crowd is anything new, you are wrong; these Republican maggots started crawling out of the rotten woodwork all the way back in the 1980s. But our bikes were like magic carpets that, at times, could transport us to some place better.
It gets deeper than a stolen bike though. As punks we called ourselves anarchists. However wrongheaded and naive that might have been, it’s what we thought we were and we hated the establishment. Pee Wee’s bike was stolen by Francis, a perfect symbol of capitalist greed. Francis was an immature, trust-fund baby and a bully who could use his dorky father’s money to get anything he wanted. What he wanted was Pee Wee’s bike so he payed some 1950s rocker with a greasy DA and a pack of cigarettes rolled up in the short sleeve of his undershirt to steal it. In the end, Francis didn’t really want the bike. What he really wanted was for Pee Wee NOT to have the bike. See, the bicycle is the one thing that made Pee Wee Herman happy and happiness was what Francis coul not have because, true to the nature of a capitalist pig, he always wants more than what he has. He dealt with his misery by making others miserable and so the bike got stolen and sent away. Pee Wee’s jounrey to find it began there. If there ever was a prototype of Rush Limbaugh, Francis was it. This movie came out four years into the Reagan administration so it doesn’t surprise me that it sticks a finger in the eye of Republican party economics. Seeing Francis get his come-uppance made us cream in our jeans.
Along the way to Hollywood via the Alamo, Pee Wee Herman made friends with a whole cast of characters and all of them were outsiders. He hitched a ride with an escaped convict, for instance, and together they outsmarted the police. ACAB. He shared an intimate moment with a waitress who dreamed of escaping from her marriage to a redneck and flying off to Paris the way Dorothy dreams about some where over the rainbow in the colorful land of Oz. (Try watching Pee Wee’s Big Adventure and The Wizard of Oz back to back and notice all the parallels). Pee Wee also got inducted into an outlaw motorcycle club.
Pee Wee even makes friends with a homeless man while train hopping, something us punks could relate to as well. We liked hanging out with the bums in our city. One of them used to shoplift porn magazines and sell them to us at discount prices so he could buy bottles of Thunderbird or Mad Dog. That’s the kind of $3 rotgut that will fuck you up even worse than a 40 oz. malt liquor. While no two bottles of Mad Dog ever taste the same, the flavor approximates some unholy combination of cough syrup, vomit, and rubbing alcohol. Some say that at higher quantities of consumption it can even be hallucinogenic. And then there was also an African-American guy with blue eyes named Ulysses; we used to drink Bully Hill with him in the alleyways and he was one of the most kind-hearted and humorous men we’ve ever met. We’d buy him food just to hear the stories he’d tell. Then one day I saw him well-dressed and selling newspapers on a street corner. The headlines said something about UFO’s coming to save Black people from white America. Ulysses had joined the Nation of Islam. Oh well, at least he is now sober and off the streets. I wish you the best, Ulysses.
And punks always loved animals. We loved our dogs. We loved our cats. Some of us kept rats, iguanas, and snakes as pets. So speaking of snakes, what did Pee Wee do when he saw the pet shop burning? He rescued all the animals and in the end he even rescued the snakes even though he obviously didn’t like them. Punks were the snakes of American society and Pee Wee was on our side.
Finally, what could be more punk than sticking your middle finger in the face of the Hollywood establishment? Pee Wee’s bike ends up as a prop in a Hollywood movie. He snatched it and rode away, wrecking movie sets as he went. Instead of arresting him, they decide to make a movie based on his life. But look at the movie they made. It is a pretentious, no-brain blockbuster with perfect looking actors that bear no resemblance to the real life events that inspired it. The movie uses postmodern framing by using the medium to critique the fake and shallow medium of the Hollywood film industry.
Then there is one final question. Who was Pee Wee’s family? Did he have any parents? How old was he anyways? Punks were part of the latchkey kid generation. We either grew up in a one-parent home or else both our parents were absent from our lives because it took two working adults to support a family with children. As teenagers we ran free and encountered the adult world at a very early age. Pee Wee Herman appeared to have no role models in his life and had to find his own way around. That was what hardcore punk was all about. We couldn’t fix the world’s problems so we created our own scene and did things our own way. FTW (fuck the world). If you didn’t like us you had best stay away.
Pee Wee’s Big Adventure become one of those movies you can watch over and over again without getting bored, making frequent appearances at cult classic film festivals, revival theaters, and occasional TV reruns. There were many times we watched it through the bleary haze of bong smoke and blurred whisky vision, maybe while coming down from an acid trip or two or three. It is like an old familiar friend that is always happy to see you for the sake of sharing old memories and telling half-forgotten jokes.
Pee Wee Herman’s next move as an honorary punk came in the late 1980s when his television show Pee Wee’s Playhouse went on the air. The Residents played the theme song. How cool was that for underground music fans? Although it was meant for kids, some of the jokes were a little bit naughty. Pee Wee and the genie’s head in a box sang a song about hiney-holes and a female dancer lifted one leg in the air while standing on the toes of her other foot and Pee Wee took a peak up her skirt, only to be given a reprimanding look from the dancer when she saw what he was up to.
A couple years later the big bombshell hit the news. Paul Reubens had been caught masturbating in an adult movie theater in Florida. My immediate reaction was not, “Oh my god, what a pervert.” Actually I was just shocked that they still had adult movie theaters in Florida while they had gone the way of the dodo bird everywhere else. Hadn’t people there ever heard of VCR’s? Florida must be a pretty fucked up place, I thought. I still think so to this day. The fact that Pee Wee played with himself in the porno playhouse never really phased me though I still wonder why it is a crime to whip it out while in a darkened theater, watching movies of people fucking. America sure does have some stupid laws. Don’t even get me going on the legality of drinking alcohol like how dumb it is to make the drinking age 21 thanks to that asshole Ronald Reagan or why we are obsessed with hating drunk driving while so few bars are within walking distance of people’s homes. Europeans sorted these kinds of things out centuries ago. It is like the government wants us to get caught screwing up. Rich capitalist pigs like Francis are getting their miserable way at our expense.
Soon after the arrest of Paul Reubens, I went to a punk show at a bar. The singer of the band called out, “I don’t know how many of you heard, but Pee Wee Herman got arrested for jerking off in a porn theater. How many of you hate him more know that you know this?” About half the audience cheered. Then he asked “How many of you love him more now?” Again, about half the audience cheered. Oh yeah, we loved him even more because his mugshot made him look like a Hells Angel. The biggest audible difference between the first and second cheers was that the former was mostly women and the latter was mostly men. By 1991, the mean-girl Andrea Dworkin style of anti-porn feminism had infected the punk scene like an STD. If you think polarization in America is a Trump-era phenomenon, guess again. It just seems that way because internet pundits and the media keep drawing our attention to it even though the hate has always been there.
Just a few years ago, I heard an interview with Paul Reubens on NPR. They asked the question of what message he wanted to send to the world. His answer, and I paraphrase, was “It’s OK to be different. You don’t have to be like everybody else.” It’s so simple, so true, and so sad that so few people understand what this means. And it's so "punk-is-an-attitude" up your fucking ass.
Good bye Paul Reubens and thank you for the memories. Thank you for the wisdom you shared. Thank you for being an inspiration, an idol and an icon for those of us who follow Jimi Hendrix’s advice and wave our freak flags high. You are forever an honorary member of the hardcore punk community.
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the-uraniumverse · 2 months ago
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Another rtcoccu character has entered the chat
Meet Celeste Bryant, the most mischievous girl in town (art cred: @lemon69lol <3 and @rodethecyclone)
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First cousin of Lizzy, Celeste was actually born in Toronto and was raised remarkably reclusive by her young parents: a falling off the religious deep end mother and a father who wouldn’t put up much of a fight. With only a couple glimpses of real life Celeste was relatively content. This of course would all come to ahead at age 8 when her father would pass, and her mother would return to her hometown and take care of her ailing mother with no choice but enrolling her in Saint Cassians.
This is when Celeste would discover 2 things. That she was completely socially inept. Struggling to understand most references but those from pee-wees big adventure or bible verses. This would last until her second discovery. The joy of the prank. Once Celeste learned of pranks she became obsessed. At first her fellow students would appreciate her attempts to fit in, but as time went on and they began to find it dull she would escalate to seem humorous... going from Whoopie cushions, to thumbtacks, to spiders. She even push a kid down the stairs.
I don’t really have a good ending for this, She’s kinda like the ripped my pants episode of SpongeBob mixed with Carrie and Krusty the clown. She’s weird.
+ also here’s a small art dump newest to oldest
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she's just so... wow i love her...
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millerflintstone · 1 year ago
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Of course I loved Pee-wee's Playhouse and Pee Wee's Big Adventure as a child.
As an adult, I particularly loved him in the movie version of Buffy as Amilyn and in Mystery Men as Spleen.
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kolbisneat · 7 months ago
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MONTHLY MEDIA: April 2024
Ooooooooh it's getting warmer and sunnier and the days are getting longer! Yet I still stay inside to read and watch tv and stuff.



.FILM


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Pee-Wee's Big Adventure (1985) Loved it. A comedy that is so generous with the types of humour (sight gags, absurdist stuff, one-lines). Watching it I was thinking "oh this reminds me of watching Elvira" and then Cassandra Peterson shows up in the biker gang! Loved the whole thing.
Lupin III: The Castle of Cagliostro (1979) I've been meaning to watch this ever since Sam Bosma shared the incredible poster he did. If I didn't know Hayao Miyazaki directed this then I would've spent the entire runtime thinking "whoa real Hayao Miyazaki vibes here." Great standalone film if you know nothing about Lupin III.



.TELEVISION


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Fallout (Episode 1.01 to 1.08) Having never played the games, I was really interested if this series would work for someone like me. It took a bit to connect and it mostly landed. Not bad at all but it hasn't really left a lasting impression.
Succession (3.05 to 4.02) Can't believe it's almost over. What I appreciate about this series is that it knows the show is at its best when the core trio are together and does everything it can to highlight this. But never forget that they are all awful people. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.
Delicious in Dungeon (Episode 1.14 to 1.17) This adaptation of the comic continues to be excellent. I hope folks dig the show so much that they decide to read the series as it offers a few more character details that are fun to discover.
X-Men '97 (Episode 1.01 to 1.07) Wasn't a big fan of X-men (comic or the show) as a kid but heard enough good things that I figured I'd check it out. While I'm not immune to the nostalgia of the intro, I really do think the show is fantastic. The story feels dramatic and just mature enough to allow for great character moments and the animation is top-notch. Really glad I gave this a shot.



.YOUTUBE


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Why I (Used to) Hate Video Essays by Extranet Shaquille and Yellow Paint by Caleb Gamman Just a coincidence but these two unrelated videos both veer away from their main topics to become a study in...media consumption/attention culture/the struggles of existing in our current times. (Video Essays) VIDEO (Yellow Paint) VIDEO



.READING


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Appointment with Death by Agatha Christie (Complete) This feels more like the first Christie book I read (There is a Tide, still my favourite) in that there are twists and turns around engaging characters. Plus the victim was such an engaging villain. Based on the handful I've read so far, I think this would be a good entry point into Christie's works.
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A Spectre Haunting: On the Communist Manifesto by China Miéville (Complete) After hearing a number of interviews with Mieville I was really excited for this but found the whole thing...frustrating. Maybe I'm not smart enough or maybe I'm not the target audience, but I don't really know who this book was written for. My gut tells me the writing is practically impenetrable unless you have a masters in English and that doesn't feel like the right fit for the subject matter. If brevity is the soul of wit then I'll leave it there and just say that the last couple pages, written clearly and with conviction, did more for me than the previous 150+ pages.
Delicious in Dungeon Volume 13 (and also Volume 6) by Ryoko Kui (Complete) Rereading and also catching up on the latest volume! It's nearly over! Volume 13 is the penultimate chapter and I'm still impressed by how consistent the characters, humour, and dedication to theme this series remains. Really really incredible.



.GAMING


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Neverland: A Fantasy Role-Playing Setting (Andrews McMeel Publishing) Tuesday crew is picking off the invading Elves fairly effectively but at what cost? And what are the repercussions of an act like this? Only time will tell. Also you can read all about their adventures here!
Oz: A Fantasy Role-Playing Setting (Andrews McMeel Publishing) The Mof1 crew continues to dig into the mysteries of the mud banks but might get sidetracked by the fame and fortune of wrestling.
And that's it. See you in May!
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atimburtonfan · 1 year ago
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"I didn't want to do the Batman sequel initially because I was kind of burnt out, and I didn't know what I could bring to it. It took me a long time to get interested in it again. Part of it was all those big weird circumstances like not having a minute, working seven days a week under really harsh conditions, not having a chance to think, not having the script sorted out.
It's the one mvie that I feel more detached from than the others. I think any director will say that the first big movie you do is a little bit of a shock. But again, some of it has to do with how you feel at the time. I never walk into anything without feeling close to it; I did originally feel close to it, but it got away from me a little bit. That is how I felt at the time, but now, as everyhing gets further away, I get a slightly more romanticized vision of it: "Oh those were the good old days, the first batman.' So when I talked to you I was still suffering from that post-movie depression.
I think every movie that I've done has lots of flaws, it's just that I don't mind the flaws in the others as much as I mind the ones in Batman. I treat my films like my mutated children, in a way. They may have flaws, they may have weird problems, but I still love them. It takes me a good three years before I can distance myself from a film and then judge it. It wasn't until a couple of years ago that I could start to enjoy Pee-wee's big adventure. The further away a movie is, the clearer it gets, and the more I enjoy it."
Excerpt from: Burton on Burton
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thealmightyemprex · 4 months ago
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The 1989 Saturday Morning Experiment :ABC
So for three Saturdays I shall watch the cartoon line up of the Three Big Networks
The six shows I watched were Pup Named Scooby Doo,The Adventures of Gummi Bears ,The New Adventures of Winnie the Pooh ,Slimer and the Real Ghosbusters ,Beetlejuice and the Bugs Bunny/Teety Show(I know I included Animal Crack Ups and the Weekend Special in my announcement of the progect but decided to exclude them both to make them even with the other networks which have six programs cause they arent really cartoon related .....Will still include Pee Wee when I do CBS cause there is a King of Cartoons )
So I pretty much woke up,had bowl of Capn Crunch.....Then regretted that and made Scrambled eggs instead ,clicked on the toon compilation....Only to find it didnt have full episodes though I was able to find most of them on Internet Archive,Disney + ,and you tube
First off how was the variety of programingPretty darn good ,we get a fun update of a cartoon classic,we get a fantasy adventure show ,a nice laid back show,a more toyetic action show, a goofy macarbre show and wrap it up with classic animation from the golden age
How were the shows:
Pup Named Scooby Doo is GREAT.I was a lil nervous cause this was my favorite Scooby Doo show as a kid ,and Im happy to say it holds up.Also introduced me to the concept of the Red Herring
Adventures of the Gummi Bears:From the handgul of episodes Ive seen......This show is cute ,its a fun fantasy adventure with acast including Paul Winchell,June Foray and Lorenzo Music ,what not to love .I dunno if I will watch more but its fun
New Adventures of Winnie The Pooh :....So I might get some hate for this,....As a kid I didnt like Winnie the Pooh.That said I have grown an appreciation for the franchise and character ,and this show is nice fun and laid back
Slimer and the REal Ghiost Busters:So I watched 2 Slimer segments and a full episode of the show,and while the Slimer stuff was hit and miss......Overall this is a really solid well done cartoon ,I think my fave character maybe Egon ,voice actings pretty good and the creature design is great
Beetlejuice:I think the show is good ,I think it properly zany and weird,voice acting is pretty good but I dont love it .I think its just I love the movie so much,still a solid 8/10
The Bugs Bunny /Tweety Show:I mean.....ITs Looney Tunes....Its classic animation ,hell Looney Tunes is a big reason I am into animation,of course its good
OVerallgood quality,good variety ,this is a very solid line up ,so ABC had a good SAturday Morning line up
@piterelizabethdevries @the-blue-fairie @themousefromfantasyland
@ariel-seagull-wings @princesssarisa @countesspetofi
@theancientvaleofsoulmaking
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champagnemanagement · 1 year ago
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Tagged by @weirdnessisgood to post 7 comfort films:
Adventures in Babysitting (1987)
13 Going on 30 (2004)
Pee Wee's Big Adventure (1985)
Matilda (1996)
10 Things I Hate About You (1999)
Scream (1996)
AND THIS IS MY FAVE COMFORT FILM OF ALL TIME... Romy and Michele's High School Reunion (1997)
also I need to add an 8th one bc i love GREMLINS so much
other people should do this too!! i wanna know what your comfort films are!
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