#just not of the cheerleader

[rachel-archer]

All I can say is, I was enchanted to meet you - Hey Stephen, I could give you 50 reasons

Part One: Welcome to Hawkins, Populations Fluctuates Based on Which Munson is in Town

Not yet on AO3, but maybe coming soon :)

December 13th, 1973

A rapid knocking on the door had Wayne Munson groaning, as he tumbled out of bed, boxers on his hips, he grabbed a flannel as he flung the door open - eyes landing on the new occupant of number seven. Mr. and Mrs. Witcher had told him about the new occupant, in a passing sort of way, but he’d missed her arriving (other than the red coupe and the uHaul the previous week). The girl - a woman, he corrected - had long blonde hair, and was wrapped up in an oversized well worn sweater, and a pair of sweatpants that looked like they probably once belonged to a man, her feet were bare, and she looked a bit… out of sorts. The other thing he noticed was how fragile she looked, overall. 

“Mr. Munson?” She wrapped her arms around her chest, and rubbed her upper arms. “I uhm, I’m Penelope Barlowe, you can call me Penny, though, uhm… there seems to be something wrong with the heat in our trailer.” 

Wayne blinked, “Give me just a minute.” He breathed out, “Let me get dressed, I’ll head over.”

“Thank you, Mr. Munson, I’ll put some coffee on for you.” She promised, a smile dancing on her lips, as she turned and hurried across the gravel path, and onto the sparse grass in front of trailer seven.  

Wayne shook his head, fondly, then shut the door, hurried to get dressed, then made his way across the yards, the heavy moon lingering overhead, as he stomped his boots against the side of her porch steps to make sure that he wasn’t tracking anything into the house. The woman met him at the door with a cup of coffee, he nodded his head at her, and eyed the changes she’d made around the place. Number seven had belonged to the Barrett’s, before Mr. Barrett had died, and Mrs. Barrett’s daughter had moved her to Kentucky. Now it was decorated up for Christmas which was only a handful of weeks away. 

A pair of babies - twins, Wayne would presume - looked about two, and were curled together with a boy who looked about six crammed together in a recliner with several blankets wrapped around them. “Oh, Mr. Munson, these are my little ones, Lucky and Sunny and my Billy.” The older boy grinned at Wayne, as if he weren’t a stranger, when he turned away again, Wayne blinked, wondering how old the boy was. 

“Got a nephew in Chicago a year or so older than you.” Wayne offered Billy, then looked at the twins, “Nice to meet you all.” The pair snuggled in closer to Billy. Wayne turned to look at the pretty tall woman, “Mrs. Barlowe?” She blinked, rapidly, and seemed to frown.

“Right.” She breathed out, “You're talking about me.” Wayne raised his eyebrow, “Sorry, I… I…” She bit her bottom lip, “I’m still getting used to hearing that last name.” She admitted, “I only just took  my married name, so… so… so my  parents couldn’t find me and their grandparents couldn’t take them from me.” She wrapped her arms around her middle, and now that Wayne was focused, he could tell she was pregnant, “My husband, he never made it back…” She looked slide long, “Saw him about… on the Fourth of July, then his unit got called back to help with the pull out from ‘Nam…”

Wayne sighed, “Served in ‘Nam, got out in ‘69, got too shot to hell.” He murmured, “Sorry about your husband, ma’am.” She lowered her gaze, a sudden stillness and sadness seemed to settle over her. Wayne cleared his throat, “I’m going to… I’ll fix your heat, ma’am.”

“Penny is fine.” She offered.

“Then you ought to call me Wayne, Ms. Penny.” Wayne offered, as he shrugged out of his shirt, and wrapped it around her shoulders, “Go warm up with your little ones.” With that he headed for the back of the house, to go out the back to check the heat unit. 

He had her heat fixed within the hour, when he went to tell her the heat was sorted, he found her on the couch with the three kids curled up with her, his fur lined blue jean jacket stretched over the youngest two. He grinned down at them, before heading out of the trailer, making sure to lock the door knob behind him, he made his way back across the trailer park. Eyes dancing up toward number five, where Mr. Diaz lived with his grandson, Argyle, the boy would probably make a good friend for Billy, Wayne thought they might be the same age, he’d tell Mr. Diaz about the boy the following week when he drove Mr. Diaz to the grocery store. 

Eyes glinting toward numbers one-four, number six, and number nine, he sighed. The trailer park had been established in the late 40s following the closure of World War II. Those lucky few who had purchased lots, had done so in the interest of retiring in Forest Hills, back when Lovers Lake looped around to the far side, but then the dam had been built, and the Quarry held the overflow, instead of the lake funneling into a creek and looping around the trailer park. He had been hired by the Witcher's, who owned the whole park, to do maintenance when he’d come home from ‘Nam. Since then, the Barrett’s had passed away (and Wayne supposed he’d moved into the trailer of a dead couple too, although he didn’t want to focus too hard on that). 

Shaking his head, he rolled his shoulders against the cold and headed back to his trailer, to his bed. He curled up and snuggled back into the warmth of his twin bed a few minutes later, pulling the blankets over his head, and for once when sleep took him under he didn’t dream of rice fields, rain, or the smell of charred flesh.

[momoiro-hime]

putting my ocs in every AU i want part. 34791

| Do NOT repost or use without permission.

[title]

“May I rest my weary head on your shoulder?” (insp.)

In the Mood for Love (2000), Rafiki (2018), Cold War (2018), Your Name Engraved Herein (2020), But I’m a Cheerleader (1999), Moonlight (2016), Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019), And Then We Danced (2019), Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004), My Own Private Idaho (1991), Anatomy of a Fall (2023), Lovesong (2016), God’s Own Country (2017), The Handmaiden (2016), Notorious (1946)

[luxbunn]

me getting kicked out after i yelled “yippeee” when he took his clothes off

[homeofwyrm]

Character doomed by the narrative shows Earth a plant.

[abisalli]

some panel redraws with young just us

[lzzdolly]

I get good grades, I go to church, I'm a cheerleader!

[imnotditzy]

Billy and Marvel have very different fighting styles.

For one, Billy treats every fight like a street fight: nothing is off limits. The boy will bite, scratch, kick, and claw. He fights dirty, and he will throw anything he can at you. His moves are unpolished, based on pure instinct or what matters in the moment, which makes his moves unpredictable — atleast until someone finds a pattern.

But Marvel, they fight in the ancient technique of Pankration. (Pankration is an Ancient Greek fighting technique, which is a combination of wrestling and boxing. It used to be in the Olympics and apart of Ancient Greece battle technique. It has limited rules and sometimes fights resulted in death. Olympic wins were usually counted by submission or knockouts. It is also said Heracles and Theseus used this fighting method in myths) The fighting style’s devastating and outright brutal. But it gets the job done, and is very intimidating—meaning it’s the perfect fit for the Champion of Magic. But for a friendly superhero? Not really.

It’s not like Captain Marvel can win here either, it’s between fighting like a street rat with no rules or fighting like you’re still in Ancient Greece, when everyone lacked entertainment and morals. Which are both pretty bad, because the choices are:

Captain Marvel, the superhero whose never uttered a curse word in public, gotten rude or actually expressed any strong negative emotion, clawing at a supervillain like their on the verge of death and the one thing they’ll do before slipping away from the world is taking the villain with them. They’re kicking, thrashing and…biting? Biting. They are kicking, thrashing and biting using pure fight or flight instinct with sparse strikings of lightning pounding down from the sky. or

Captain Marvel, the guy whose nickname is “The Big Red Cheese” and poorly hides a grimace every time someone uses the nickname, kicking a supervillain square in the stomach, then picking them up and throwing them on their head. Once the villain’s down they’re over extending their shoulder, then the other, before putting them in a stranglehold...

Both ways are just…

wtf?

Neither are really expected and I can’t imagine which ones funnier.

[solarmorrigan]

Silly idea I talked about ages ago with @azure7539arts, inspired by a similar event my workplace hosts every year. Would minors be allowed to participate in such an event? Probably not! But then again, it was the 80s, who can say for sure. Anyway, it's my birthday and I'll post nonsense if I want to <3

-

“I need you to buy me.”

Eddie looks up from his notebook, effectively jarred from his campaign-plotting fugue state by Steve’s declaration.

Steve is standing at the other end of the dining table, staring at him expectantly.

“Y’know, this is the part where someone usually follows up their completely bonkers demand with an explanation,” Eddie says slowly.

“At the charity auction,” Steve clarifies. “I need you to bid on me, and I need you to win.”

Ah, yes, that weird Rent-an-Athlete charity auction the school runs every year; anyone on any Hawkins High sports team could volunteer to be “auctioned” off in order to raise money for said sports team, to spend a day at the beck and call of the highest bidder (within reason, supposedly). It’s generally restricted to students, but occasionally, prominent alumni are invited to participate – and Steve certainly fits the bill, especially after the story the government spun about his heroism in the face of “serial killer” Henry Creel last spring.

“And what, deny all those pretty girls a chance to get at you?” Eddie asks drily (he’d never turned up at previous auctions himself, but you could hardly avoid gossip in a school their size; it had usually been some cheerleader bidding with daddy’s money who won a date– that is, a day with Steve Harrington).

“It wasn’t always a girl who won,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his chest. “One time it was Mrs. Dalton – you know, the lady on the school board who lives on my block? I just spent the day doing yard work for her. She gave me lemonade. That was pretty cool.”

“Right,” Eddie drawls. “And I’m sure she definitely didn’t sit outside and stare at your ass while you were working.”

“She did not– she– I mean she was on the porch, but, like– she wouldn’t have– she’s, like, seventy, Eddie,” Steve splutters, and it’s all Eddie can do not to laugh.

“Older gals have needs, too, Steve,” Eddie says, giving in to a smirk. “So she was checking you out from the porch, huh?”

Steve goes red. “Shut up, that isn’t the point. I’m trying to ask for your help.”

“Right, right, your absolutely reasonable request for me to buy you at market. Why, again?” Eddie asks.

“The kids are planning to bid on me,” Steve says gravely.

Eddie blinks at him. “Okay?” he says, when no further explanation is forthcoming. “You basically do most of what they ask, anyway, so…?”

“Okay, believe it or not, I actually say no to at least half of what they ask me to do. I would literally never get anything done if I gave in to all their demands.” Steve jabs a finger at Eddie, who holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Anyway, this is all Henderson’s fault.”

“It usually is,” Eddie agrees, nodding sagely.

“He decided that he was going to bid on me and then use that day to finally make me play your nerd game with you–” Eddie snorts, and Steve shoots him a look, “but Wheeler doesn’t want me to play, so he said he was going to bid against Dustin and make me do anything but sit in on a session with you guys.”

“So let Wheeler win.” Eddie shrugs.

“No! I can’t let fuckin’ Mike win, he’ll probably make me do something even more ridiculous!” Steve exclaims. "He’ll make me play chauffeur for him and El on a date, or something, and he’ll probably include the stupid hat.”

“Wait, I thought El broke up with him,” Eddie breaks in.

“No, they’re on again,” Steve says absently, shaking his head. “Which is why Max has been in a bad mood lately.”

Eddie bites back the reflexive need to ask “How can you tell?”, going instead with, “I thought she and Sinclair were on again.”

“No, they are. That’s why no one’s been actively murdered,” Steve says.

“How do you keep track of all of this?” Eddie asks, squinting at Steve.

“It’s a natural skill. And we’re getting off track,” Steve says quickly. “Normally, I wouldn’t be that worried, because Dustin regularly blows his savings on weird science gadgets or whatever, but then Lucas and Will started taking sides.”

“This is getting very involved,” Eddie says.

“So you see why I’m stressed!” Steve insists, smacking a hand to his forehead (personally, Eddie thinks Steve is stressed for many other reasons, but he figures pointing that out just now won’t be appreciated). “Lucas is on Dustin’s side, and that kid does odd jobs like nobody’s goddamn business; he actually has shit saved up. And usually I’d have faith in him being more, like, sensible than to spend it all on this, but the little shit is really fucking competitive.”

“Wonder who he got that from?” Eddie mutters.

“Okay, we do remember that I’m not actually biologically related to any of these idiots, right?” Steve snaps.

“Well now we’re just getting into nature versus nurture–”

“Eddie.”

“Right, sorry, continue.”

“Well, Will took Mike’s side–”

“Shocking.”

“Right? But anyway, I don’t know if the kid has much saved up, but between him and Wheeler, they might be able to win.” Steve sighs, looking far more world-weary than Eddie feels the situation really warrants.

“You know you don’t actually have to do what they ask you to, right?” Eddie points out.

Steve rolls his eyes. “If an auction winner complains to the school that the person they bid on didn’t fulfill their end of the bargain, they can get their money back. It’s a whole…” he waves his hand vaguely, “thing. Happened once when I was a sophomore; Deacon McNab. Lost a good chunk of change for the football team, and they vandalized the shit out of his car.”

“Ah, right. Forgot we went to school with literal psychopaths,” Eddie hums.

“So, I just need you to bid on me and win, so I’m not stuck wasting a Saturday on whatever the hell the kids are going to try to make me do. Or not do. Or– whatever,” Steve says.

“Okay, not that I don’t understand your predicament here, but I think you’re forgetting something kind of important, Steve,” Eddie drawls.

Steve’s brows draw together in question. “What?”

“I’m fucking poor.”

“Oh.” Steve shakes his head. “I didn’t mean– no, I will give you the money, you don’t have to spend a dime, man, I just need you to get me out of this.”

“Why not have Buckley do it?” Eddie asks.

“That was Plan A, but she actually has a date that night, and it’s kind of a big deal, so I don’t want her to cancel,” Steve says. “But I assumed you wouldn’t be busy.”

“Wow, rude,” Eddie scoffs, and Steve sighs.

“Fine, sorry, I just really hoped you wouldn’t be busy.” Steve gives him the most lethal set of puppy dog eyes Eddie has ever seen, as if there had been any chance from the beginning that he’d be able to say no. “Please?”

Just for show, Eddie lets out a long sigh, falling against his chair and letting his head flop over the backrest like he’s deflating.

“Fine.”

“Thank you,” Steve groans, sounding so genuinely relieved that Eddie almost feels bad about how quickly his thoughts dip into the realms of the inappropriate. “Oh my god, I owe you.”

Eddie glances back up at Steve, tongue darting out to wet his lips almost unconsciously. “You know I’m not as easy to appease as a couple of fifteen-year-olds, right?”

Steve’s eyes drop for just a second—maybe down to Eddie’s lips, maybe not; who can say?—before he looks back up, cocking an eyebrow at Eddie. “I think I can handle it.”

Slowly, Eddie grins. “We’ll see.”

[radiance1]

inspired by this wonderful art made by @puppetmaster13u

So, Danny, cemented king and practically father of the Blob Ghosts and certified little shit.

Has found something new to play with.

For you see, despite his various kidnappings by the GIW Danny was never aware of there being a League of Earth's mightiest heroes at all. He off-handily mentioned them to Henry, who was now genuinely jobless because even though he never got told he knew he was jobless for helping Danny escape and Henry?

Henry did not want any part of this, he's just a civilian he doesn't want to meet the Justice League of all people!

Sadly, Danny did not care at all in the slightest.

Henry was then reminded of why Danny was valued by the GIW and why he also king class ghost entity (the only other known king class was the Ghost King who they barely have any information of). Because he easily, cleared the distance between Amity Park and Metropolis.

Henry, unfortunately, was not used to traveling at such speeds and was left hanging limply in Danny's arm as everything started spinning and thinking he might puke.

Danny, being the child that he is at heart, immediately starts calling out Superman's name. Superman, predictably and unsurprisingly, hears this and comes over questioning who was calling him.

Danny decides to be even more of a little shit by speaking in ghost speak even though just earlier he called out Superman's name in clear English. Henry, the de-facto translator, is out of commission right now so Superman is really just left guessing here.

Unless, you go with the fact that Kyrptonian is a dead language, and since Superman can speak and knows Kyrptonian, Danny's ghost speak is automatically translated to Kyrptonian.

Superman is, understandably, stumped by this occurrence and he may or may not form the idea that Danny might be a Kyrptonian.

Danny then gently places Henry down on the roof, pats him on the head, tells a few blob ghosts to keep an eye on their new littlest sibling while Dad has fun.

Then he turns to Superman, with the most feral, shit eating grin on his face. Cracks his knuckles, and then tells Superman that they're going to have a fight.

He wasn't asking, and before Superman could say anything he's already been punched through the air. Not that it hurt, really, mostly took him by surprise, but now Superman is now in a fight with what may or may not be a Kryptonian.

[bradpittschiseledabs]

returning to tumblr to show off the yaoi/yuri fridge we made with my roommate

[mollysunder]

The thing I never got about the fan reaction to Mel and Jayce's relationship (in general) is that people were incensed on Jayce's behalf that Mel used him for political gain, but like... that's what happens when the government sponsors your research. Obviously the funding mechanisms aren't the same because Piltover is an oligarchy where civic functions such as the Enforcers and even Zaun's ventilation system are privately funded instead of through a common pool of taxpayer money, but the purpose is the same, which is to benefit from the conclusions drawn from the results of the research.

I don't understand how anyone in the audience could be shocked or angry that when Mel, a high ranking representative of Piltover’s government, chose to invest in hextech it wasn't clear that she and Piltover would benefit. And it's not like this foreign concept to Jayce, he was originally being SPONSORED by the Kirammans', which is almost the same relationship except it's more explicitly private to the Kirammans' benefit, but I didn't see any pitchforks out for Tobias and Cassandra.

It's just such a double whammy headache to end up reading posts where Mel is hypervillainized while Jayce is practically infantilized because as an adult man in his 30s he simply can't understand complex relationships or make his own decisions. The way some fans have been offended on Jayce's behalf straight up erases any agency or even intelligence he has.

[trans-temporial]

I love you Priscilla Queen of the Desert I love you But I’m A Cheerleader I love you Velvet Goldmine I love you To Wong Foo I love you Hedwig and the Angry Inch I love you The Birdcage I love you Nowhere I love you queer movies from the 90s that are fun and camp and over the top with characters that are messy and loud and make mistakes. We’re getting fun movies back can we bring back these

[hyunpic]

what is he doing….? his best 😞

[creachiergh]

pro tip: put all the women in the 'but i'm a cheerleader' sleeping quarters and see what happens

[chocolateg1rl]

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