also on ao3
(cw: tics, bullying)
Eddie started shivering in seventh grade.
Even when it was hot, even when he was sweating and desperately wanted a non-rattly fan or a better air conditioner. They weren't normal shivers. He wasn't cold. But his shoulders would jerk or shake, or he would tremble for a second, and he didn't know what else it could have been. Others didn't question it for a while, because it started in October. Everyone was shivering. But by March, it hadn't stopped, and he had to explain himself when people gave him questioning looks or asked if he was okay. (Back when people cared.)
'S just a shiver, I'm fine.
He wasn't fine. It got worse over time. He got used to it, to the weird feeling that took over his body for a few seconds, got used to telling people he was cold, joking that he must be low on vitamins or iron, joking that in the future, someone is walking over his grave. But other people didn't get used to it. They thought he was weird. That was fine with him. Wayne realised something was wrong before Eddie started the tenth grade, because he wasn't just shivering anymore. His whole body was jerking sharply, suddenly, his shoulders drawing up, fists clenching. Eddie didn't question it. Wayne did.
It wasn't normal. But nothing about Eddie was normal. Wayne took him to see a doctor. The doctor make him do things, walk in a line, hold his arms out and push the doctor's hands away as hard as he could, follow a flashlight with his eyes without moving his head. It was all weird. It kind of scared Eddie. The doctor kept writing things in a notebook, and Eddie couldn't tell if he was doing well or not. But Wayne was there, watching and listening intently.
The doctor said he had tics. It sounded funny to Eddie, but then it wasn't funny, because the doctor didn't give him anything for it. He just said there wasn't anything really wrong with him. His brain just worked a little differently. (Which Eddie was already used to hearing.) That his tics could get better or go away as he got older, or they could get worse.
They got worse.
By the end of that summer, his arms were moving, flying over his head suddenly, randomly, and his head was jerking back so sharply it hurt. Wayne was worried about him getting whiplash. Eddie was worried about going to school.
That year, he became the freak.
At first, he tried to explain it to people. The movements were involuntary, he couldn't control them. Wayne contacted all his teachers, who mostly got it, but still preferred to make him sit in the hallway so he didn't distract the class. But the other students thought he was possessed, faking it for attention, and everything in between. They'd throw things at him, and complain to the teachers that he was distracting even when he wasn't moving, just to get him out of the room. They would mimic him, make fun of him, and by September, he learned that the tics get worse when he's upset. He could hear them all snickering and giggling as he shoved his hands under his legs and tucked his chin to his chest or held his shirt over his face, as he held his limbs tense so they wouldn't move, so tense he was exhausted and sore all the time, and then he'd go home and cry because he couldn't control his own body.
He'd have to sit on the sofa so when his head threw itself back, it would hit the back of the sofa instead of the wall, and Wayne would just wait, watching with that fucking sadness in his eyes that made Eddie ache even more. When it finally stopped, sometimes after a few minutes, sometimes after an hour or two, he was so exhausted he'd fall asleep right there on the sofa. He couldn't do his homework. His grades dropped even more, but he managed to keep himself afloat. He did the best he could, doing his homework early in the morning before school or in detention. (Some of his teachers thought he was faking. Mr Peterson was in charge of detention, and he was nice. Considerate. Eddie counted him as one of his few blessings.)
His tics got worse.
In December of his junior year, he started making noises. Short screams, grunts, quiet vocalizations. It scared him. He didn't want to go back to school, but he did. The laughter around him got louder, and he was sent out to the hallways more. He started skipping classes. He knew he'd be forced to leave anyway. So he'd sit in the boys' room, on top of a lidded toiler, his feet up on the stall door, and he'd leave cigarette burns on the walls.
Not everyone was awful. Some kids were just curious about him, asked why he acted the way he did, and he did his best to calmly explain it all. I can't help it, actually. It's just my brain works different. That turned into Eddie's brain's fucked. It's broken. He's a fucking--
So he used it. Eddie the Freak. Attention-seeking, desperate for people to notice him. So he started making devil horns, yelling from tabletops, making himself The Freak so no one could use it against him.
No one, not even Wayne, saw him cry at night, because the attention he got was never the attention he wanted. Because he was tired. So fucking tired. His limbs were sore and his voice was rough, and his neck hurt, and he was sick of being laughed at. But that was all he got.
He kept counting his blessings. Mr Peterson, who never minded Eddie's noises or the way his fists would bang against the table loudly in the silent room, who scolded the other detention-goers when they tried to tease. The Hellfire guys, who got used to his tics fairly quickly, and knew when to pause whatever they were doing if Eddie couldn't hear them over a scream or was distracted by his own body. That nice girl, Chrissy Cunningham, who would slip notes from the classes he missed or skipped into his locker or backpack with sweet smiles. (If Eddie wasn't gay, he would have fallen in love with her.) The other few students that ignored him when his tics acted up, just glancing and moving on. Wayne, bless his soul, who would come to the school to confront Eddie's teachers and complain to the principal about Eddie being mistreated by the staff.
And, oddly enough, Steve Harrington.
Eddie never saw it coming. It was a particularly bad day. He was at his locker, trying to line his books up, but a tic threw his hands up, and some books fell from his locker to the floor. He watched helplessly as papers scattered across the floor, as most students stepped around them, ignoring them, as some jocks trampled over them, over Chrissy's neat handwriting, his fists clenched at his sides. When they passed, he kneeled, picking up the books, and when he looked up, Steve Harrington was kneeling too, gathering the crumpled papers and carefully straightening them out.
He gave them to Eddie with a smile, and Eddie thought he might be dying, in some weird, upside-down dimension where Steve Harrington smiles at Eddie Munson. Eddie took them hesitantly, said thank you, and then he hit him.
He was mortified, almost dropping the papers again, jumping back as his whole body flushed with heat, staring at Steve's shoulder where his hand had just landed heavily, and he burst with a Fuck, I'm so sorry, oh my god--
But Steve had just laughed. Amazingly, it was a kind laugh, with sparkling eyes, and soft cheeks, and he said It's okay.
And then he was gone. Down the hall, after his friends, and Eddie realised his hands were trembling.
Steve kept smiling at him. Even when his friends were making fun of Eddie's Satanic cult, and of the way he couldn't keep still, and of his sad, broken brain. Even when Eddie's brain made him flip Steve off across the cafeteria, Steve saw how Eddie pulled his hand down sharply, and Steve just... laughed. Eddie fell in love with his laugh. It was kind, and it made Eddie feel better, even when he wanted to cry.
Steve graduated the next year. But he didn't leave Eddie alone. Eddie couldn't stop thinking about him, and his kind laugh, and his pretty eyes, and then the sheep Eddie adopted told him all about how cool and brave Steve was, and Eddie fell harder without even seeing him.
The world went to shit. But Eddie got to see Steve again.
Steve was still kind, even though the world was ending, and even during serious discussions, plan-making, how-to-save-the-world conversations, Eddie's tics kept going. His body jerked and shivered, and his head threw back, and his fists hit his own chest and shoulders, and he had to sit down. And Eddie found out that there are more kind people than he thought. When his tics slowed, Nancy wordlessly got him an ice pack to hold to his chest, and when he flung it across the room, Robin caught it with a casual oops, and brought it back to him. No one questioned him, or stared, or laughed, even though he knew how annoying he was.
When he woke up in the hospital, he hurt so badly he couldn't move. He just cried. Steve sat by his bed and held onto his hand. He was crying too. When Eddie stopped crying, Steve carefully slid his rings, clean of blood, onto his fingers.
This one goes here, right?
Yeah.
On the second day, his brain didn't care that he hurt. As Steve was telling him about what was going on with the others (Max was staying with the Sinclairs, Dustin's leg was almost healed), Eddie's hand smacked him across the face sharply, the sting of his rings bringing tears to his eyes before he even processed what happened. Steve wordlessly crawled onto the bed, carefully pulled Eddie against himself, and set a pillow over Eddie's lap for when his fists started hitting his legs. He'd just murmured those words, the first words he'd said to Eddie years ago.
It's okay. It's okay.
And he waited until Eddie's body fell lax against him before he carefully found Eddie's hand, laced their fingers, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
Eddie was released from the hospital a few weeks later. He stayed in the Wheelers' basement for a few days until Steve's parents left town, for good this time, and then he moved into the Harrington house.
He likes it there. Steve is still kind. Always. He lets Eddie lay his head in his lap when his body hurts or won't stop moving, and he drags his fingers through his hair or holds a joint to his lips for him, and he smiles. (Eddie would go through the end of the world all over again for that smile.) When Eddie's head hits the wall while they're in the waiting room of the hospital for a checkup, Steve just shifts to face him and holds a hand up to the back of his head so his hand hits the wall instead, saying quietly that Eddie isn't allowed to beat his record number of concussions. He drives Eddie to Wayne's even though Eddie doesn't tic when he drives except for a few facial or vocal ones.
When Eddie whistles one night, Steve just smiles at him and says Was that a tic or are you hitting on me? and Eddie freezes, his face burning. Which would you prefer, pretty boy?
Steve kisses him.
And then Steve starts holding his hand even when he isn't having tics, even when they're with the Party. Eddie moves into Steve's room. (They always slept better when they accidentally fell asleep on the sofa together anyway.) Steve holds him when his tics are bad, and Eddie holds him during his migraines, pressing kisses as softly as he can to his forehead and his temples. Steve takes his hand when it moves to hit Eddie's face or chest. Eddie stands steady and holds Steve's hand to himself when he gets dizzy. Steve keeps ready-made ice packs in the freezer to hold to Eddie's chest and legs when they bruise from his fists. Eddie keeps his handwriting as neat as possible when he writes notes in case Steve forgets anything. When they wake up at night, breathless and sweaty and crying, the other is there, arms open, lips waiting.
One night Eddie says very softly, You know, they used to say my brain was broken.
Steve just says, Mine too.
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Meeting All of Def Leppard in Sheffield!!!!
Yes, really! and no this wasn't part of a meet and greet or anything, I just happened to be incredibly blessed that weekend🥰 so sit back, relax, get your snacks, and lemme give you a comprehensive timeline of how I met the guys!
So you guys all know my interaction with Sav at the album signing, if not read about it here, but that was my only interaction with Sav.
other than that, my friends happened to be staying at the same hotel that the Leppards and their crew were!
the only one of the Leppard crew who wasn't staying there was Sav, because he was staying at his house (he lives in Sheffield so ig it makes sense) but yeah that was why we didn't see him at all after the signing.
also the man is illusive af so even if he was staying at the hotel we prob wouldn't have seen much of him😅
Right, now time for the others!
The next Leppard I met (and I still genuinely cannot believe this) was Joe!
We got back to the hotel after the concert and he was just… there? In the lobby/restaurant area? WHAT?
I will admit that I did feel a little bad going up to him as he seemed like he just wanted to hang out with his friends who were all there, but at this point I didn’t know that they were staying at the hotel so I didn’t know if I’d ever get this opportunity again.
He was sO NICE and sO TIPSY LMAO
We didn’t say much to each other apart from the usual “the show was amazing!” And “Thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it” kinda routine bUT STILL I WAS TALKING TO JOSEPH ELLIOTT HIMSELF ANYTHING WAS MORE THAN AMAZING
he is also vERY tall in person
Like I knew he was like 6′3 or something like that but my short ass just did not expect him to be that tall for some reason
But yeah that was that
Another fun thing was that we stayed in the lobby for a little while and we could just hEAR him laughing and talking
Something I learned about Joe Elliott on this trip is that tHE MAN IS LOUD WHEN TIPSY
Just as we were about to retire for the night, in walks The Thundergod himself, Mr Rick Allen!
Of course we got a picture with him and he was very intent on taking it himself in selfie mode LMAO
(my friends were in this too but I decided to crop them out bc I wasn't sure if they wanted to be on Tumblr or not)
HE IS SO LOVELY AAAAAAA
Cut to the next day, I meet my friends in Starbucks, and we weren’t in there more than 10 mins, and Rick walks in!
My friend apparently had always wanted to buy him coffee, so the went up and paid for his order aWWW
he then proceeded to come and sit at our table and we just... talked?
as if we were old friends?
WHAT?
HE IS SO NICE AND SO CHARMING AND SO FUNNY I JUST AWWW
we ended up running into him a lot that day and the next, and he genuinely seemed happy to see us!
at one point he said “greetings earthlings” to us and did the Star Trek salute
long story short for about 48 hours we became best friends with Rick Allen and I miss him every day
Next up: Phil
our first interaction was very generic (well as generic as you can get when you're literally meeting one of your favourite people on the entire planet)
we ran into him in the lobby of the hotel and we talked about the concert for a bit
he said he was super excited for the rest of the tour AWW
we saw him a couple of other times that day but other than a “hello” and a smile we didn't bother him at all
we would have done the same whenever we saw Rick but I cannot stress enough that HE was the one coming up to US when ever he saw us
later that day we also saw Joe again but we didn't go up to him as he was with Jess and Mike and seemed busy ( he was honestly probably going out to film something👀)
Ok this next part might be a lil sad
But we also went to visit Steve🥺
I didn’t expect to cry, but as soon as the three of us laid eyes on his gravestone we just all broke down into tears.
There was a lot of lil bits of memorabilia there that looked like they had been there for a long time, mostly guitar picks and lil notes.
But the part that got us? There was a picture of him and Phil there which you can just about see in the first photo
Not me crying again rn
But we have him some flowers (which we all wrote a note on) and I also gave him a guitar pick.
I’d actually found this guitar pick on the floor in Brighton a few weeks ago, and it was from a music touring company. I’d completely forgotten I’d left it in my bag, but I think it was absolutely a sign when I found it on the floor.
Everything felt so heartbreakingly perfect
We got to share this little moment with him💜
Ok sad stuff over
Cut to the next day, we’re back at Starbucks again getting breakfast. surely nothing else out of the ordinary could happen, right?
well that was proven wrong when VIVIAN CAMPBELL WALKED IN HKSFBKFJS
seriously we weren’t even planning to stay in there wE WERE IN THERE FOR LIKE FIVE MINUTES TO GET BREAKFAST AND THEN GO
anyways I got to give him one of my art prints
I actually forgot to say I gave one to Rick as well as Sav
well I gave one to Scott (sav’s son who I saw at the OAC pop up) and he said he would give it to Sav AWW
the only one I didn't give a print to was Joe and im sO MAD bc I made a bunch of Joe prints to give out to the fans at the concert and over the weekend bUT I FORGOT TO SAVE ONE FOR THE MAN HIMSELF AAAAAH IM SORRY JOE
I can just imagine all the guys showing each other their prints and Joe being like 🥺why didn't I get one?
I WILL GET A PRINT TO JOE IF IT KILLS ME DW THIS IS NOW MY MISSION
ANYWAYS Viv was super cool but super shy aww so it didn't seem right to ask him for a picture
[EDIT] idk how I forgot this part but Viv actually recognised me from the signing???!!!! He said “aw I recognise you, you were the one with Sav’s jacket😃” I kept my cool somehow but I was fREAKING OUT
esp in the cafe where I don’t think he wanted attention drawn to him😅
also side note I can confirm that Viv is absolutely ripped irl like bRUUUH👁👄👁
everyone talks about how buff phil is but nO ONE TALKS ABOUT VIV
soz but that just needed to be said.
we decided to stay in the lobby and ofc we saw the leppards a bunch again
literally it was so surreal
just as they were getting ready to check out Joe came out of the elevator and said “good morning ladies” to us
we all just collectively internally screamed
we said some other things to him and vice versa but my brain was going 100 miles an hour (BC THAT’S JOE ELLIOTT RIGHT THERE TALKING TO US?) so I honestly dont remember what exactly we were saying😅
another fun thing was that my friend had gifted him a shirt at the signing aND THE MAN WAS WEARING IT AS HE WAS CHECKING OUT
IT WAS SO SWEET AND WE ALL JUST CRIED
and then as he walked out he said “ladies I bid you adieu”
*more internal feral screaming*
Viv also went to check out and Caitlin (his wife) was with him and I stg she gave me a death glare LMAO
I honestly don’t think she meant to lol but it was still funny
like don’t worry I'm not gonna steal your man calm down
I managed to stop Phil just in time to give him one of my art prints!
one of my friends also had a programme from the Pyro days that had a double page pic of the guys and everyone had their signature (yes this even had Steve’s signature) apart from Phil
and she finally got to complete it by asking him to sign it!
the best part about this was that he seemed so genuinely happy to see Steve’s signature
he then gAVE ME AND HER HUGS WTF FHDHDHSH
we both then cried 😃
like literally we were both so overwhelmed (in a good way) that we just had to let it all out
and just like that, they were on their way to the airport
when I left for Sheffield four days prior I had no idea that when I left, I could say I'd had conversations with all five of my favourite people in the world.
hopefully this was the first time of many I’ll see them!
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most of the people in this fandom on this platform know jack shit about mormonism and will only bring it up when they want to make a potshot about sanderson's beliefs in what are usually wildly inaccurate ways. like come on if we're gonna point out the mormon influences in his work why don't we point out the allusion to anything not written in metal not being able to be trusted to the golden plates, or the similarities of kabsal to a mormon missionary, or the parallels between the belief that those in the celestial kingdom will ascend to godhood and get their own planets to run and the shards, or the exmormon influences of jasnah? but no its that mormons think gay people go to hell and sanderson is a mormon so he must believe that. fam they don't even believe in regular hell. go google search outer darkness. existing being gay is not a sin anymore in the church, even though gay sex is sin still on the level of masturbation. but does anyone care to look at the full picture of it? there is so much to be said and so many stories to tell and so many queer people who have suffered under the mormon church and how high the suicide rates are and the homophobic attitudes and polices that affect the day to day lives of those still in and those who leave the church. no one assuming they know what mormons believe so they can make a post on tumblr dot com for clout actually cares about those people though, do they? it's posturing, putting someone down to make themselves look better in comparison. thats not love. thats not helping.
did you guys know that the mormon church recently used BYU to launder hundreds of millions of dollars from canada to the U.S. ? So you guys know about the massive boy scouts of america abuse lawsuits going on right now? Do you know the name of Sam Young? do you know what the CES letter is and its impact? do you know the list of things that can get you excommunicated from the church, of which a sex change surgery and murder and talking trash about the church on the internet are side by side? do you know of the temple oaths of silence, that you might slit your own throat and disembowel yourself before speaking of the things said in the temple? do you know of the horrors of all but compulsory missionary service?
do you know about the cult tactics the church uses to keep its members from leaving? did you know the church is centered around making the member feel never good enough, never as perfect as they need to be? do you know about the honor codes at BYU and that you can get removed from the school or fired from your job for leaving or speaking against the church?
like, does literally anyone talking about mormonism here care about any of that?
and if we're going to hyperanalyze sanderson's beliefs, which i really think is someones personal business unless they specifically state otherwise, especially if saying the wrong thing (particularly as a public figure) can come with severe consequences, from my own opinion and perspective as an ex-mormon, i really dont think he holds hate in his heart for the marginalized groups he is attempting to portray. i think he genuinely cares about doing a good job and having diversity in his books and doesnt think its against god to do so. obviously the environment of his upbringing prevents him from having as honed of an instinct when it comes to diversity as some of us might prefer, but let's not pretend that it's malice or disgust driving unpreferable decisions when thats not what we have evidence of. a nevermo reader might not pick up on it, but sanderson constantly writes themes and narratives contrary to the teachings of the church (looking at you cytonic). he is not bound to the beliefs of the church, as such is the case with many members especially nowadays with all the cultural shifts happening.
so when someone who knows nothing about mormonism takes a narrative decision they find unfavorable and claims its a result of the mormon influences, really consider if its because its actually related to mormon attitudes or if its because mormonism is a convenient scapegoat of which people dont seem to care to know the real truth and problems behind. like, asking the question "how might sandersons religious views and upbringing impact the way he wrote the narrative here?" is such a good and interesting question, but you can only get real meaning from it if you actually know a thing or 2 about mormonism to begin with. hey, watch some john dehlin, i met the guy once, he's great, and the mormon stories podcast is always interesting and informative. or like browse the exmormon subreddit. idk. i feel like actually learning about these things and doing what you can to support victims in this hell church does so much more good than complaining on a website that an author didnt write the story how you wanted and blaming it on his faith in a way that's not even accurate or adding anything to the conversation
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