#this is indeed the trope of steve telling the police they were fucking for their alibi lmao

[stevebabey]

Dustin denotes his plan as a stroke of genius. Steve calls it fucking crazy.

It is crazy — going down to the police station and giving a completely faux alibi for Eddie is crazy.

But then, Steve recalls the handcuffs on the hospital bed, keeping him strapped in even though Eddie’s hardly in a state for escape, all bandages and wires. Steve remembers the fitful sleeps he’s witnessed when visiting, remembers Eddie’s ashamed whisper of fear that one of the officers would smother him in his sleep if no one stayed with him.

Steve remembers the bats. Remembers all the other shit Eddie got dragged through.

And if Steve can lessen that blow… well, then maybe he is crazy for going through with the plan.

There’s no prepping Eddie for it, of course, considering he’s being guarded around the clock. Steve thinks it’s ridiculous considering how feeble he feels just looking at Eddie. When he— when they had gotten him out, there was a moment where he was more blood than boy. Just jagged skin held together by Steve’s hands and sheer will.

He shivers involuntarily. This is crazy, Steve thinks, shifting a bit in the chair out the front of Eddie’s room, waiting for the discussion across the hall to meet its end. It’s crazy, but he’s already done it now.

Sharp footsteps sound across the hallway and Steve’s head yanks up. His heart beats too fast and he presses his palms down into his jeans to wipe them, standing up quickly.

“So?” He asks, eyes darting between Chief Powell and Deputy Callahan.

“That’s quite the alibi you’ve provided, Mr Harrington.” There’s a cool expression on Chief Powell’s face, giving away nothing. “One that not many would be so willing to give.”

Steve swallows. Presses down the panic tied to the implications of what he’s told them— him and Eddie. Him and Eddie together.

“We’d like to question Mr Munson a little as well, get everything settled. You know,” He makes a little gesture with his hand. “Make sure your stories line up.”

A new strain of panic jolts in Steve’s stomach and he hopes it doesn’t show on his face. Glancing over his shoulder, he peers between the blinds and tries to find Eddie’s face. He can only see the hospital bed, stark white sheets and hundreds of tubes. Steve tries to remember that he anticipated this, he prepared for this.

“Now?” He asks, turning back to face the officers. He tries to appear like his uneasiness comes from concern, instead of panic. “He’s just had another dose of morphine, I’m not sure how up to questions he’ll be.”

Chief Powell narrows his eyes. Steve silently begs him to take the bait — he doesn’t want to defer the questioning, he just needs a little more wiggle room in case Eddie is slow on the uptake. He’s a performer though. Steve hopes that’ll be enough to convince them.

“Now is best.”

Steve nods, his face grave. “I understand. Just… if he’s a bit slow, give him time to find his answers. He doesn’t know that I’ve… told you.”

Steve’s hand presses down on the handle to the room and the door opens with a hiss. He enters the room, his eyes landing on the officer posted by the door first before they travel onto the bed, to Eddie.

The chair beside the bed is empty for now which means Wayne must be off getting some food. Good, Steve thinks. This will be easiest with a smaller audience to convince.

Eddie’s eyes are closed, resting as best he can, but at the new noise they peek open. The ripple of happy emotion will help their case immensely but Steve delights in the fact that that reaction is genuine. Eddie is happy to see him.

“Big boy!” He rasps as a greeting. He waves one hand up, wires sticking out of it and the handcuff on it clinks uncomfortably, and he begins a spiel. “Welcome back to my humble—”

He cuts himself off when he sees there are other visitors today besides Steve. The heart monitor jumps and Eddie’s hand drops, eyes back onto Steve in an instant.

“What’s going on?”

Steve strides to his side, his hand reaching out to curl his fingers around Eddie’s limp hand. His skin is cool to touch, fingers icy. Surprise jumps onto Eddie’s face but his fingers tighten their grip, holding his hand too. Steve sits down in the seat beside the bed and lets the real nerves of the situation make his voice tremble when he speaks.

“I— I had to tell them, Eddie. About your real alibi.”

To his credit, Eddie only lets confusion wash over his face for a moment before it turns to some mixture of anger and sadness. A furrow forms between his brows, his grip on Steve’s hand tightening, and Steve doesn’t think he’s acting at all when he says, “You didn’t.”

Huh. Maybe he’s figured it out after all, Steve thinks.

Steve nods solemnly, letting his thumb wander over the back of Eddie’s hand. He remembers what it’s like to dote on girls, on Nancy, and find it’s not nearly as hard to bring it all out for Eddie either.

“I had to,” He murmurs, reaching a hand out to brush back some of Eddie’s hair. The heart monitor spikes again and Eddie’s cheeks glow pink.

Behind them, Chief Powell clears his throat and Steve jumps, remembering himself and what he’s trying to accomplish here.

“Excuse us, Mr. Munson, we have a few questions for you.”

There’s a moment where they let their words register and Eddie takes a deep breath, squeezing Steve’s hand and giving a little nod. Chief Powell continues.

“Mr. Harrington here has come forward with a statement that would place you elsewhere than the scene of the crime at the time of Miss Cunningham’s murder. Can you recall where you were that night?”

The mention of Chrissy’s name makes Eddie flinch and Steve’s glad he’s already holding his hand so he can squeeze it gently. Eddie’s gaze drops to their intertwined hands and stares hard for a moment. Shuffling puzzle pieces into place.

Steve leans down, presses a soft kiss to his bruised knuckles, and says “Tell them the truth.”

Eddie inhales sharply, steeling his nerves and turns his attention back to the officers. “I was with Steve. We were… we were at his house.”

Chief Powell nods, scratching words down in his notepad. He hums in a way that tells Eddie to keep going.

“We were…” Eddie trails off and looks to Steve, trying to follow the story already planted. Steve nods, hoping it comes off like he’s trying to be comforting boyfriend, instead of a subtle nudge.

“…Kissing.”

Steve resists the urge to snort at the absurdity of the whole situation. This whole thing is so convoluted and it’s twisted that Eddie’s even been accused but Steve’s putting his fuckin’ reputation on the line and Eddie says they’ve been kissing?

He doesn’t even need to turn around to know some eyebrows have raised behind him.

“Kissing?” Steve hears Chief Powell repeat. “Just… kissing?”

Eddie’s attention snaps forward again and Steve can see him piece together the snappy persona, the Freak, the scary dog privileges that come with being an outsider. He straightens up a bit, shoulders squaring but Steve can feel the quake in his hand.

“I’m sorry, did you want a play by play of the whole act, Chief Powell? I can go into detail if you want, who took who’s pants off first, yanno, but I didn’t peg you for that kinda guy.”

Steve can’t miss this reaction, turning his head to watch both officers shuffle uncomfortably on the spot. Chief Powell tries to keep his power, eyes narrowing, but it’s hard to maintain when Steve dots another quick kiss across Eddie’s knuckle.

“Very well.” He seems to land on. “We’ll be back to collect a formal statement later—”

Eddie gives a faint squeak, his hand grasping Steves that much tighter.

“—but I’m happy to have the guard and cuffs removed from your room for now.”

A sigh so large escapes Eddie that his chest deflates a good couple inches and Steve feels his own shoulders relax a bit. Chief Powell steps forward, key retrieved from his belt and Steve winces seeing the ring of irritated skin around Eddie’s wrist. No doubt caused from the thrashing of night terrors.

He releases Eddie’s hand long enough for it to be freed, scooping it back up in his as soon as he can, properly this time. All fingers intertwined, palm to palm. Eddie eyes their hands again and Steve pretends to not hear the jump in the heart monitor.

The officers leave, including the one holding post, the door sliding shut with a gentle click and Steve holds himself still— unsure of how to start explaining what he had sprung on Eddie. He feels bad, dropping him in the deep end, even if it was for his own good.

“Eddie—” He starts.

“Hug me.” Eddie hisses out the corner of his mouth. When Steve doesn’t react, he says it again, fiercer - it doesn’t match the way he’s smiling so sweetly at Steve. “Hug. Me.”

Steve does as he’s told, shooting up onto his feet and hesitating only for a moment before Eddie’s arms are creeping around his waist — he leans over and tries to keep his weight off him. Eddie’s frazzled curls tickle at his cheek and Steve just burrows his face in further.

There’s a faint whisper into his ear. “They were watching still.”

Steve pulls back a bit, not to check over his shoulder, but to see Eddie’s face. He’s serious, eyes skirting the window behind them but the moment Steve pulls back, his eyes shift down and he softens.

“And now… kiss me too?” He says. His tone conveys that he knows he’s being far too cheeky. Steve’s wonders if the officers are still watching. Wonders if he’d still kiss him even if they weren’t. He casts a glance over his shoulder and is met with a empty window, the officers retreating down the hall.

He turns back to Eddie with an incredulous expression. “What? Getting you off murder charges not good enough for you?”

Eddie’s face shutters for a moment, as though every emotion to do with Steve’s sacrifice floods him at once. There’s a burst of gratitude when he doesn’t mention it — doesn’t mention everything Steve might be giving up for Eddie, everything that might crumble should the details of the case become public.

He chooses the joke again. Eddie always does.

“Yes, but remember, we’re madly in love,” Eddie sings, brows wiggling about on his face and making Steve snort. “So feel free to kiss me anytime you feel like it.”

Steve snorts. “Duly noted, Munson.”

Eddie throws his head back softly against his pillow and pretends to wail in pain. “Munson? That’s all I am to you? That’s how you treat your boyfriend?”

Steve can’t help but grin a little at the theatrics and finds himself thinking that of all the people to be stuck pretending he’s dating, at least with Eddie, it’ll be enjoyable. Well, at least interesting. It will certainly be an experience.

“You have no idea how I treat my boyfriends, baby.” Steve says, voice low, just to see if he can get Eddie’s heart monitor to jump again. It does, a steady beeping as the BPM climbs up a few numbers.

Steve can feel the blush on Eddie’s cheeks, he’s so close, and it’s so nice to see colour on his face — such a stark comparison to the paleness of- well, of older memories.

Steve grins. Despite every nerve that feels singed beneath his skin, overworked from all his anxiety — despite considering every potential backlash that faces both them outside this room, outside the hospital, Steve searches within himself.

He can’t find one single ounce of regret.

next part.

#gay ppl in my phone…. take this humble offering to tide u over between fics #everything has become long #i cannot help it #every idea is like 5k+ words #this is me trying to combat it #ruby writes steddie #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #pre steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #uhhhh that’s all folks #this is indeed the trope of steve telling the police they were fucking for their alibi lmao #10 points if u can guess which line is from the hunger games! #that’s what inspired this

[runesrule]

"Girls kick ass; says so on a t-shirt”: Feminism in James Cameron’s ‘Dark Angel’

Author’s note: goes without saying the following meta contains some spoilers, and language warning coz it’s me writing it. Now, read on. 

Recently, I have dived into a re-watch of James Cameron’s cyberpunk/biopunk scifi Dark Angel. The first time I watched Dark Angel was sometime around 2009-2010 mark, and a few things about it made a serious impact on my budding ideas of feminism. The series, which ran for two seasons from 2000-2002, is the story of Max, a genetically-engineered super-soldier (or ‘transgenic’) who escapes the top-secret government facility known as Manticore as a child. She, along with twelve of her ‘siblings’ split up in order to disappear into a ‘pseudo-post-apocalyptic police state’ AKA a United States of America where an Electromagnetic Pulse has wiped out most of the technology pre-2009. She eventually becomes entangled with Eyes Only, an idealistic hacker battling police corruption and the oppressive regime which controls Seattle, where most of the action in the series happens. Eyes Only AKA Logan Cale, is a cyberjournalist played by Michael Weatherby. 

James Cameron has said that Max is medium of bringing back the ‘tough, female warrior’ to our TV screens, and for most part, he succeeded. The character, played by Jessica Alba, poses an interesting question in regards to feminism. On one hand, Max AKA X5-452, is undoubtedly a warrior; a bad-ass, ass-kicker with a banging bod, who oozes female sexuality and doesn’t back down from a fight. However, it really isn’t Max’s downright lethal fighting skills, or her sharp, scalding wit that make her memorable to me. It’s her relationships throughout the series with other women that always attracted me to the series, and to the character herself. In the first season is Max’s roommate, the perky, blonde Kendra as well as the wonderful series regular, Original Cindy, a black, gay woman who is Max’s best friend, as well as Asha, the idealistic crusader against government corruption. Asha’s one of those characters who gets dismissed as the unwanted third point on the inevitable love triangle. She’s introduced as a further complication in Max and Logan’s heart-wrenching love story in the second season (Uh, geez, Cliffnotes version: Max gets injected with a virus that’s targeted directly for Logan’s DNA sequence, when Manticore discovers his secret identity as Eyes Only). The thing is, Asha is so much damn more than simply a love interest. She’s a fighter for the S1W, a group of activists working with Eyes Only to fight the good fight, a great friend to Logan, and a genuinely decent human being. Ultimately, despite her position as the ‘other woman’ in the narrative, she and Max not only find common ground, but on more than one occasion, the two of them actively display mutual respect for one another. As rare and uncommon as that is in the love triangle trope, it’s the fact that despite initial hostilities between them—to be fair, Max is basically hostile to everyone she doesn’t know and love—they manage to move beyond the romantic entanglements. It’s a refreshing example of women supporting women, despite the narrative having every opportunity to pit them against one another in a bikini-wearing, wet t-shirt catfight to the death. It might be my lifetime membership to the SHARON CARTER IS NOT HERE TO BE STEVE ROGERS’ GODDAMN LOVE INTEREST club, but I really, really adore Asha and Max’s relationship. Next up to the discussion booth is the one, the only, the incredible Cynthia McEachin AKA ‘Original Cindy’. Hit me up: how many black, gay women who wear their natural hair, are nurturing and kind as well as sassy and unafraid to throw a few punches are actually represented in today’s media? Right?? Anyway, Original Cindy is Max’s best friend. She’s sex-positive as hell and multi-faceted. She’s also a normal-sized human, which is a nice element to have when Jessica Alba is running around being lithe and tiny and fit as hell. I am one thousand percent here for more Original Cindy’s in popular culture. Firstly, she has an understandable what the actual fuck reaction to finding out that her best friend is a genetically engineered super-soldier on the run from shady Men In Black types who will kill and maim whoever they have to in order to get their hands on her. Then, when she’s processed, she stands by Max, unhesitatingly. At one point, she literally puts herself between Max and a sniper’s rifle while pretending to be Max’s hostage. (However, she’s also biphobic as hell, uses some fairly transphobic language at one point in Season One and the one time Cindy gets a grounded, well-rounded love interest, Diamond gets stuck in the ‘bury your gays’ plot. Horrifically.) Of course, no discussion of feminism is complete without addressing our transwomen. I guess the fact that there is actually something to discuss gives the show props? I’m cisgender, so I’m not qualified to write from any platform of authority. The facts are this: Louise is a transwoman (who, by the way, is played by a transwoman Jessica Crockett) and lesbian who dates our heroine’s hard-to-like boss Normal before realising she’s gay. I would love to hear from any transwomen who might have watched Dark Angel, and what they think of Louise. As I said, a lot of the language surrounding Louise’s split second feature in a S1 filler ep is problematic and dated. She’s kind of outed against her will when Original Cindy rifles through her purse in order to find out what kind of woman would go out with Normal at all. The thing that always stuck in my mind is that Normal doesn’t give a shit that she’s trans, and it’s only the fact that she likes women that stops him from pursuing her romantically. To continue on the ‘Your favs are problematic’ roll I’ve got going now, let’s talk about Annie. Annie is introduced in Season 2 as a love interest for Joshua, a Manticore experiment who has ‘dog in his cocktail’ resulting in some altered facial features and super senses, as well as truly abominable table manners. She’s a black, blind woman who receives a grand total of three episodes before being unceremoniously murdered by Season 2’s antagonist Ames White. Her death facilitates Joshua moving to Terminal City, where the grand finale of the series goes down. Phew, boy. It’s telling that I completely forgot about Annie’s existence until this recent re-watch. The thing that drives me completely mad is that narratively there were ways around this. Sure, there always is, but sometimes character deaths are the most straight-forward, least convulated way to move a plot forward. I’m a writer, I get that. Sometimes it sucks, but you gotta do what you gotta do. Annie’s death did not have to happen. Sure, her murder by White shocks the audience into realising that Ames is indeed a monster (There were some episodes preceeding this one where his attitude towards his Murder All The Non-Humans deal seems to be softening slightly), and forces Joshua to move to Terminal City, where they find the rest of the Manticore transgenics and stage a last stand. But… Annie’s murder takes place during a chase to find Joshua in the labryth-like setting of the sewers under the city. Another series regular, Max’s workmate and friend the dorky, lovable Sketchy, is also in the sewers, chasing the story for his beloved gossip rag. He emerges, unscathed from the battle, while Annie is left behind to die at Ames’ hands. Now, Sketchy has had a heap of close calls: he’s been kidnapped by the government goons chasing Max and released on the assumption that he’s a bumbling idiot (Spoiler alert: he’s actually not) He’s also been knocked out by Max on more than one occasion and nearly beaten to death by a bunch of ‘steel-heads’: cybernetically enhanced punks. Sketchy is comic relief. He’s the jester of the court; you want to wound our heroes and shock the audience? Take him out. This is a character we’ve been rolling our eyes and laughing at for two straight seasons, and he would have died before we saw his redemption from hating the transgenics to realising that he’s best friends with two of them in Alec and Max. How is that not just as tragic as Annie’s death? I suppose because Sketchy is a loud, skinny white boy not a gentle, helpless blind woman whom Joshua loves, because as always Man Pain™ must win out. (I mean no disrespect to Joshua; Joshua is a golden retriever human and must be protected at all costs) See, Sketchy dies in the sewers, our heroes are collectively enraged and heart-broken, and Joshua still moves to Terminal City because it could have been Annie who died, I must protect her, whine-whine, howl at the moon, love sucks. See? We get to keep Annie and her guide dog Billie alive, and the plot continues in the exact same way, Man Pain™ included. 

So I don’t mean to try and make out that ‘Dark Angel’ is a bad show. It may fall victim a little to the our strong female lead is strong because she can kill twenty grown men with her little finger while wearing booty shorts and a bikini top type of thinking, but it is genuinely a really cool, female-led scifi with a unique idea and really cool, edgy world-building. 

Max is one of those heroes that sticks around in your head, and despite the unsatisfactory finale, ‘Dark Angel’ is a show seriously worth the watch. 

#Chevy speaks #dark angel #max guevara #feminism #transgender #transwomen #representation matters #glbtq #black girl magic #jessica alba #jensen ackles #scifi #meta #james cameron #sharon carter