you're grabbing lunch with a nice man and he gives you that strange grimace-smile that's popular right now; an almost sardonic "twist" of his mouth while he looks literally down on you. it looks like he practiced the move as he leans back, arms folded. he just finished reciting the details of NFTs to you and explaining Oppenheimer even though he only watched a youtube about it and hasn't actually seen it. you are at the bottom of your wine glass.
you ask the man across from you if he has siblings, desperately looking for a topic. literally anything else.
he says i don't like small talk. and then he smiles again, watching you.
a few years ago, you probably would have said you're above celebrity gossip, but honestly, you've been kind of enjoying the dumb shit of it these days. with the rest of the earth burning, there's something familiar and banal about dragging ariana grande through the mud. you think about jeanette mccurdy, who has often times gently warned the world she's not as nice as she appears. you liked i'm glad my mom died but it made you cry a lot.
he doesn't like small talk, figure out something to say.
you want to talk about responsibility, and how ariana grande is only like 6 days older than you are - which means she just turned 30 and still dresses and acts like a 13 year old, but like sexy. there's something in there about the whole thing - about insecurity, and never growing up, and being sexualized from a young age.
people have been saying that gay people are groomers. like, that's something that's come back into the public. you have even said yourself that it's just ... easier to date men sometimes. you would identify as whatever the opposite of "heteroflexible" is, but here you are again, across from a man. you like every woman, and 3 people on tv. and not this guy. but you're trying. your mother is worried about you. she thinks it's not okay you're single. and honestly this guy was better before you met, back when you were just texting.
wait, shit. are you doing the same thing as ariana grande? are you looking for male validation in order to appease some internalized promise of heteronormativity? do you conform to the idea that your happiness must result in heterosexuality? do you believe that you can resolve your internal loneliness by being accepted into the patriarchy? is there a reason dating men is easier? why are you so scared of fucking it up with women? why don't you reach out to more of them? you have a good sense of humor and a big ol' brain, you could have done a better job at online dating.
also. jesus christ. why can't you just get a drink with somebody without your internal feminism meter pinging. although - in your favor (and judgement aside) in the case of your ariana grande deposition: you have been in enough therapy you probably wouldn't date anyone who had just broken up with their wife of many years (and who has a young child). you'd be like - maybe take some personal time before you begin this journey. like, grande has been on broadway, you'd think she would have heard of the plot of hamlet.
he leans forward and taps two fingers to the table. "i'm not, like an andrew tate guy," he's saying, "but i do think partnership is about two people knowing their place. i like order."
you knew it was going to be hard. being non-straight in any particular way is like, always hard. these days you kind of like answering the question what's your sexuality? with a shrug and a smile - it's fine - is your most common response. like they asked you how your life is going and not to reveal your identity. you like not being straight. you like kissing girls. some days you know you're into men, and sometimes you're sitting across from a man, and you're thinking about the power of compulsory heterosexuality. are you into men, or are you just into the safety that comes from being seen with them? after all, everyone knows you're failing in life unless you have a husband. it almost feels like a gradebook - people see "straight married" as being "all A's", and anything else even vaguely noncompliant as being ... like you dropped out of the school system. you cannot just ignore years of that kind of conditioning, of course you like attention from men.
"so let's talk boundaries." he orders more wine for you, gesturing with one hand like he's rousing an orchestra. sir, this is a fucking chain restaurant. "I am not gonna date someone who still has male friends. also, i don't care about your little friends, i care about me. whatever stupid girls night things - those are lower priority. if i want you there, you're there."
he wasn't like this over text, right? you wouldn't have been even in the building if he was like this. you squint at him. in another version of yourself, you'd be running. you'd just get up and go. that's what happens on the internet - people get annoyed, and they just leave. you are locked in place, almost frozen. you need to go to the bathroom and text someone to call you so you have an excuse, like it's rude to just-leave. like he already kind of owns you. rudeness implies a power paradigm, though. see, even your social anxiety allows the patriarchy to get to you.
you take a sip of the new glass of wine. maybe this will be a funny story. maybe you can write about it on your blog. maybe you can meet ariana grande and ask her if she just maybe needs to take some time to sit and think about her happiness and how she measures her own success.
is this settling down? is this all that's left in your dating pool? just accepting that someone will eventually love you, and you have to stop being picky about who "makes" you a wife?
you look down to your hand, clutching the knife.
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imelda was from the get go supposed to be the femme fatale but that makes her quick marriage to lance even more important to me
the femme fatale is often characterized as a someone that draws the detective into a mess of shit that usually gives “self destructive”, and originally this is set up to be hunch as her connecting detective but LANCE MAKES SO MUCH MORE SENSE
hunch has his own arc, the detective taking himself more seriously, a detective who makes himself known and finally gets proper recognition. meeting imelda didn’t ruin his life, nor does he revolve around her storywise.
so imelda hits all other femme fatale beats and doesnt Need a male counterpart but we also get TROPES!! she, a wanted woman who is known to the police as a mad-woman who turned from an honest life to crime, meets a police captain (basically stand in chief of police currently) and immediately smooth talks circles around him. lance questions his boss, his job, and his life to chase after this sudden Excitement that he hadn’t allowed himself. literally, brennan says that lance has never felt so Alive.
imelda, the true version of femme fatale, finds her cynical and disillusioned “right side of the law” man, lance, and immediately they run together. then we learn that lance’s concerns is the reason that copper is so easily found in mentopolis doubling down on the “morally ambiguous” trope. she doesnt look at lance and go, actually dont be so wary of everyone, she (because she is impulse and because of how aware she is of the situation they are in) connects to him on his need to just Act.
imelda pulse is such a good femme fatale character and her moment with lance has lived in my head all this week. i cant wait to see how fast this marriage falls out once elias is no longer in that all or nothing space, though trauma, maybe they will stick together for a little longer than any of us are ready for.
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Inspired by this post where the older kids get walkie-talkies
“Hey Birdie, is the Master with you?”
Steve’s call got no response, even though he knew Robin never went far without her walkie-talkie.
“Birdie? Is the Master with you?”
Steve was about to get irate until he realize why she wasn’t responding and let out the biggest sigh and eye roll.
“Is the Master with you? Over.”
Finally a crackle came on. “He is indeed. Over.”
“Can you tell him to bring some chocolate chips when you guys come over? ....Over.”
“Can do! Over.”
“Excuse me”, Eddie’s voice came on the line. “Why doesn’t Birdie get the shopping list? Over.”
“Because she’ll either forget to go to the store, or go and get distracted and buy everything except what I asked for. Over.”
“You know me so well~ Over.”
“This is blatant favoritism. Over.”
“I’ll give you the first pick of cookies for your troubles. Over.”
“Complain rescinded.”
Steve smiled. “What was that?”
“Complaint rescinded. Over.”
---------
It had started with Nancy giving them the walkie-talkies, which seemed out of character for her until she gave the reason. They were only able to save Max because they had instant communication. And when they couldn’t reach the gang in California, it felt hopeless. So it had been a precaution. If anything happened, they’d have these. Spring Break came and went. As did the rest of spring. And their purpose quickly went from emergency communication to anything that came to their minds. The first time the kids found out about it, they decried copying.
Nancy was quick to say theirs was more serious. And it was true to an extent. They had codenames, they had protocols they followed. No one ever said Code Red without meaning it. The one time it had been used, Steve called on it after Robin got hit by a car trying to save a kid. If you asked anyone else, they would’ve said he was hysterical. If you asked Steve, he was appropriately concerned for his friend who was hanging by a thread. She walked away with a bruised rib and a couple of stitches.
“This is Wave Rider, asking for permission to land. Over”, Argyle said.
“This is the Master, you are granted. Over.”
Both boys gave each other goofy grins as they stood across from each other in front of Eddie’s trailer.
“Nancy would kill you two if she saw you using them in close proximity”, Jonathan said.
“What she won’t know won’t kill her, right?”, Eddie said.
“You don’t need to tell him twice”, Argyle grinned.
Jonathan gave him a good-natured nudge while the three of them went inside.
------
Steve and Robin had left Family Video and now worked at a nearby convenience store. The You Suck/Rule board had returned. Dustin vaguely remembered it. When he saw all the You Suck tallies, he figured Steve was repeatedly striking out with girls again.
“Maybe you should give up on chicks for a while”, he said one day, when he came for a slushie. “Doesn’t seem like it’s your forte nowadays.”
Steve slumping onto the counter made sense. But Robin’s raucous laughter, not so much.
“This is Birdie to Jonner-Than-You, come in. Over.”
“Jonner-Than-You here, Birdie. What’s your status? Over.”
“Apparently Loverboy here needs to give up on women. Dusty Buns says they’re not his forte.”
Dustin was about to argue that call sign when he heard Jonathan laugh the loudest he had ever heard.
Unbeknownst to him, the board wasn’t for whenever Steve struck out with girls. It was specifically when he struck out with Eddie whenever he came into their little corner of 7-11 heaven.
------------
“Big Wheel to the Master. Come in. Over.”
“The Master reporting. What’s up? Over.”
“Is Mini Wheels with you? Over?”
There was what could only be described as indignant squawking on the other end of the line. That confirmed her brother was indeed on the other end of the call.
“That’s a roger on that. Over.”
“Tell him that even if he’s in high school, he still has a curfew. And I’m not covering for him again. Over.”
“I’ll make sure he gets the message. Over.” Eddie looked over to Mike. “Hey Mini Wheels!”
“Stop calling me that!”
---------------
The six of them had gotten together for an afternoon hangout that slowly trickled down. Nancy had to get home, Jonathan left to meet up with a study group, and as day turned to night, Argyle drove Robin to her shift at the store. Which left Eddie and Steve alone at the Harrington Residence to finish off the movie they’d started.
Steve could do this. He could be smooth. He’d been striking out because the fact it was Eddie and not just some random girl made the stakes higher. Made him doubt himself. But the King Steve shit hadn’t been totally a lie. He could bring back just a bit. Enough to get Eddie to melt in his hands.
It started with playing with his hair and giving him meaningful looks. He’d made out with girls while a movie was on a bunch of times. Depending on how ready they were, it could be easy to pull them out of it.
When Eddie looked for too long at his lips, Steve knew he had him.
“Can I try something?”, Steve asked while curling a long lock around his finger.
Eddie nodded hesitantly before swallowing. “Y-yeah, go for it, dude.”
Steve leaned in slow, giving Eddie a chance to back out. He didn’t. The kiss was slow and warm and Steve’s hand went deeper into his hair. When he pulled away, Eddie came with him for a second kiss. This one went deeper and had Eddie pushing Steve back against the couch. When they parted this time, Steve felt like he was in a daze, when a realization came to him.
He jolted up, nearly knocking Eddie off the couch as he reached for the walkie-talkie. “This is Loverboy to Birdie. Put a point down for I rule cause Harrington’s still got it baby!”, he said, snapping excitedly.
“Bullshit”, Robin replied.
Eddie took the device from Steve. “This is the Master, confirming the Harrington does in fact, still have it. Over.” He then dropped the walkie-talkie onto the floor and went back to kissing Steve.
Argyle had made the astute observation that Robin had put down a tally right after he’d done a transaction with Steve, but Eddie hadn’t wanted to believe he had anything to do with that scoreboard.
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“This is Jonner-Than-You, confirming the retrieval and delivery of five nuggets and a tall drink. Over.”
“Loverboy responding, it’s supposed to be six nuggets, a tall drink, and three sides. Over.”
“Mad Max went off to have dinner with Lucky Number and the sides are not cooperating. Over.”
“You tell the rest of that club that they better get their asses in that van. Nancy, Argyle, and I didn’t slave over a hot stove just for them to-”
Jonathan held up the walkie to the rest of the Hellfire club to hear all of Steve’s tirade. No one turned down an invitation to Sunday dinner. No one.
----------
The six of them laid out in the middle of a field, blissed out. For once, none of them had anywhere to be or anything to do. A perfect opportunity to waste time by passing a joint and watching the sky.
Jonathan picked up his walkie-talkie. “This is Jonner-Than-You reporting in. I love you guys.”
“Birdie to Jonner-Than-You, I love you too.”
“Um, Loverboy to Birdie. You’re supposed to love me best. Over.”
“Wave Rider responding. There’s enough love to go around. You should know that Loverboy.”
“You guys are high as fuck. Over”, Eddie said.
“Big Wheel to the group. Quit wasting your batteries. Over.”
“Birdie to Big Wheel. Not until you admit you love us. Over.”
That started a chant of “Love us. Love us.” through the walkie-talkies which made it reverberate even more until Nancy was covering her ears and everyone ditched the walkie-talkies to dog pile on top of her. Only then did she admit she loved these idiots.
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