#steve and matt made it at least!

[statementlou]

Rolling Stone have posted the performance to their insta EDIT: and now, bizarrely, they have deleted it. WHY? so many questions

[dreamings-free]

Hi! Do you know for how many years Louis’ current team has been with him? At least the main ones like his band, grooming, Helen, management? I was scrolling down on Louis’ insta and saw Helen’s comment back in 2017 and was like 🤔

hi anon 😊

this has been in my inbox for a while since it a big q and I've been on holiday on and off.. but here is a good bit of background info for you :

Helen Seamons has indeed worked with Louis since 2017. afaik she first styled Louis for the Observer Mag article shoot on 2/5/17. later that month Louis was styled by both Helen and Krystle for the Back To You music video and they have both been part of his team ever since. Helen has also had a few styling assistants working with her for Louis over the years, like Bemi Shaw (TXF 2018), Peter Bevan (since 2021) and Roz Donoghue (since 2022 I think?)

as for management, we first heard about Louis signing with Three Six Zero and Mark Gillespie for management in July 2018, around the time Louis started filming TXF, but it had probably happened a while before that (at least I believe that Mark - and Matt Vines too - had a hand in the way TXF was used as a reintroduction of Louis to both fans and the general public, and that deal had to have been made earlier that year). at some point however Louis seems to have switched from Gillespie and Three Six Zero to be managened by Matt Vines at Seven 7 Managent (or at least co-managed, because Vines has ties to Gillespie and Three Six Zero; he was VP of Artist Management at Three Six Zero’s UK branch before starting his own management co. Seven 7 in 2016) - who he’s still with today.

the band is a looong story.. as you may know Louis first put a band together back in 2017 for Miss You promo and a few performances like Royal Variety. Zak Craner was part of that band and is the only one still in Louis' touring band now. (tho Rich Zbaraski who was also in the 2017 band replaced Matt on bass for a few gig in 2022). sometime after Louis' time on TXF, probably in early 2019, a new band was formed. we don't have all the details but I believe Matt Vines brought in Steve Durham (who it seems he knew already) and had him put a band together (Matt Dinnadge talks about this in the video interview he did during the pandemic). the initail lineup, which we saw briefly for Two Of Us promo, consisted of Steve Durham (musical director, drums), Zak Craner (keys), Michael Blackwell (guitar) and Charlie Fowler (bass). later that year when Louis came back for the release of Kill My Mind the music video featured the same band except Matt Dinnadge had replaced Fowler on bass. Matt’s first live gig with Louis was Coca Cola Music Festival in Madrid. Isaac Anderson (rhythm guitar) was added to the band later in 2019 - his very first live show with Louis was the Telehit performance in Mexico City ! and those five have made up the band ever since ☺️

hope that’s the info you were looking for!

if you're on desktop you can try these links for various tags in chronological order:

lt management | three six zero | seven 7 | louis’ band

[allfryam]

the biggest team in the country pt. 2

*DISCLAIMER* all players on the team are at least 18 years old! This story includes weight gain, sexual references, and coach x player sex. You have been warned.

as coach Johnson waved goodbye to the three seniors on his team, he was secretly excited to meet the new freshman that were going to be taking their spots. A bunch of young skinny wannabe football players showed up to tryouts, and coach wanted to pick the ones with the most potential to grow. coach picked three players that looked good enough, and brought the entire team to the first weight check.

Matt G. - 262lbs

Steve B - 281lbs

Jason K. - 288lbs

Zach B. - 312lbs

Connor M. - 290lbs

Danny R. - 148lbs

Nic S. - 153lbs

Chris F. - 145lbs

Just by looking at the weights, it was easy to tell which players were the new freshman. There were gonna have some serious catching up to do if they wanted to stay on the team. Coach got to work right away, taking the team to their favorite spot, the all you can eat buffet. The bigger boys made fun of the skinny little freshman. They could barely finish one plate without getting full. Coach didn’t let the boys leave until they had dessert though. They struggled eating the sweets and the rest of the team cheered them on. “EAT! EAT! EAT! EAT!” They chanted, banging their fists on the table. The freshman eventually finished, and the team went home.

when coach arrived home, he took off his shirt and went to the bathroom. On his way out, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His flat stomach had begun to grow into a bit of a belly. It was nothing major, just a bit of paunch, but it was definitely noticeable. Turns out, eating at the buffet all the time with his team has started to have its consequences.

as practices continued, coach started noticing his team begin to grow, especially the freshman. He noticed their uniforms getting tighter around their midsection, and their rounding bellies started poking out from under their tight shirts. To coach’s surprise, his belly was also starting to get a bit rounder. Looking in the mirror again, he started looking like a proper ex-jock. Coach was well past his glory days but he figured he’d be well into his forties before he started getting fat. He was barely 30, and he was starting to look like his fat dad!

Coach continued fattening his team as the first game of the season approached. He weighed them a week before to make sure everything was in order.

Matt G. - 262lbs to 285lbs

Steve B. - 281 to 304lbs

Jason K. - 288lbs to 312lbs

Zach B. - 312lbs to 331lbs

Connor M. - 290lbs to 320lbs

Danny R. - 148lbs to 192lbs

Nic S. - 153lbs to 179lbs

Chris F. - 145lbs to 188lbs

coach was impressed. the freshmen were gaining weight quite quickly, and the other team members were still growing at a steady rate. He expected them to have stopped by now. After the team went home, coach also decided to weigh himself. There was no way he’d gained more than 15 pounds right?

coach - 165lbs to 193lbs

coach’s eyes grew wide with shock. He’d gained almost 30 pounds! He lifted up his shirt and looked at his round, hairy belly. He grabbed it and shook it, frowning as it jiggled. He continued frowning on his way home when he stopped in McDonald’s for a before dinner snack. As he ate his burger, he wondered how he gained all this weight.

the team obliterated the opposing team at their first game. Half the team was impossible to move, and the other half were almost big enough to take down the smaller players. The team celebrated once again with the buffet, and the freshmen were able to eat much more than last time. Coach, however, was opting out of the delicious feast. The team noticed and forced him to eat some pizza. “If I gotta get fat to be on the team, so do you!” Connor yelled. Coach sighed as he ate way too much food. The team wasn’t going to let him lose this weight, that’s for sure.

coach scheduled a doctors appointment after he first weighed himself. He wanted a professional opinion on all of this. He sat quietly in the doctors room until he heard a knock on the door. “Hello, frank! It’s so nice to see you again!” The doctor said gleefully. Coach had been coming to this doctor since he turned 18. He knew doctor long would give him the best advice. “Okie dokie! What brings you in today frank?” Doctor long asked. “Well… for the past couple months, I’ve noticed my uhh… weight has been goin up.” Coach said shyly. “Yes I can tell!” Doctor long said with a chuckle. “You look a little rounder than when I last saw you.” Doctor long took coach to the scale to get his official weight. “203lbs” the scale read. “Oh dear! You were not lying! You’ve managed to put on 48 pounds in 4 months! That’s quite impressive!” Coachs face got a little red and he sat back down on the table. “Go ahead and strip down to your underwear for me, and we’ll take a few measurements. Coach undressed to reveal his plump gut that was hiding underneath his t-shirt. Doctor long took his stethoscope and listen to coach’s heartbeat. He looked in coach’s ears, his nose, and his eyes. “This looks good… now let’s talk about this belly.” Doctor long smiled. “What has your diet been like recently?” “Well I always make myself an omelette for breakfast before heading to work.” Coach responded. “Ok sounds normal. What’s next?” “I grab a box of donuts on the way to work sometimes. Probably 3 or 4 days a week. I eat those before lunch so I don’t get hungry.” “okay… that is a bit of an issue, but carry on.” “Well for lunch, I like to go through a drive through or get takeout. Then in the afternoon I usually eat a few of the cookies they leave in the break room. Then I go to football practice, and the whole team usually heads to the buffet afterwards. It’s our favorite spot. Then on the way home, depending on the time I’ll grab dinner or dessert and eat that before bed.” “and this happens every day?” The doctor asked. “Yup.” “well… obviously all of this eating is affecting your waistline, and you have gained weight quite rapidly. I suggest you lay off of the snacks in between meals and keep your buffet meals under control.” Doctor long said while rubbing coach’s belly.

the next day at practice, coach explained the doctors orders to the team. He also explained that he would no longer be attending the buffet every night but each player was still expected to do so. “Coach, if you need help with a diet, I can help. I used to eat crazy healthy before I joined the football team.” Zach chimed in.

later that night, Zach showed up to coach’s house with two full grocery bags. “Is this for my new diet?” Coach asked. “Yup!” Coach sat down at the dining table. “Ok. Let’s see what we’re working with.” Coach took off his shirt to reveal his round, hairy, ball gut. “WOW. You really did put on weight! Let’s get started right away.” Before coach could react, Zach had pulled a rope out of one of the bags and tied coach to the chair he was sitting it. The rope was tightly pulled and sat just above coach’s belly. Zach also tied coach’s arms and legs to the chair, so he would have no chance of moving. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!” Coach yelled. “I just didn’t think it was fair that you got to have all the fun fattening people up. Why should you get to be healthy and skinny and you turn the whole team into fat slobs! I’m giving you a taste of your own medicine. I’ve been sneaking mass gainer into your food at the buffet for months!” Zach explained. Zach began stuffing various foods into coach’s mouth, forcing him to chew and swallow. Pizza, bread, cake, cookies, it kept coming. Zach would occasionally let coach catch his breath, and then stick a funnel in his mouth, pouring his own homemade gainer shake down his throat. Coach’s belly began to grow and stretch. It gurgled in pain as coach continued eating. You could hear the strain of the button on his jeans with every breath he took. Eventually, his tight pants burst open and his massive belly surged forward. “Looks like you’ve reached your limit for tonight, but I’m not finished yet.” Zach said as he bagan taking off his clothes. He untied coach and moved his hefty body, that had been covered in various food crumbs, to the couch. Zach proceeded to fuck coach Johnson with all his force. Their massive bodies made the couch shake with every thrust. Coach could do nothing but embrace Zach as he continued to fuck. He finally climaxed and the two massive men passed out on the couch.

coach awake in pain, grunting as he tried to sit up. He was naked, covered in food, and his house was a mess. Zach had gone home and coach was left to deal with the consequences. He took a shower and marveled at his gut. It was still bloated from last night’s feeding. He got dressed and cleaned up his apartment before heading to work. As much as he tried to forget, he couldn’t stop thinking about Zach. There was something about being dominated and fed by him. Coach even had to relieve himself at practice because he kept getting hard watching Zach. Maybe one more feeding couldn’t hurt…

part 3 will come soon enough. I sort of took a turn away from the football aspect of the first story but I hope you guys enjoy coach’s weight gain!

[thehuntfortrencherlostmedia]

The Origins, Ramsay Fiction & The Confusing Mishmash of Everything Before Fix Me - A Marianas Trench Retrospective

Okay, so my post got likes, but I only got one actual response from anyone, agreeing with me on the fact they like things in chronological order. So, I guess it's time to talk about the bands early days, eh?

The truth of the matter is, the band as many know them started in late 2003 and early 2004. Anything before that gets placed in this weird murky middle section with a name change, members leaving, and also a complete and utter mess of when Ramsay Fiction came to an end and where Marianas Trench begins. We have located a demo disk from 2001 with the Marianas name on it, but we also don't have any dates as to when certain things were recorded or uploaded onto MP3.com.

Here's what we do know: Josh Ramsay, a teenager dealing with both an addiction to heroin and an eating disorder, loved music from a young age. His father owned a recording studio, and his mother was a vocal coach. Music was literally in his blood, but even though the two had connections into the industry and everything, he set out to make it into the business on his own. And he knew one thing for certain: He DID NOT want to be a solo act, he wanted to be in a band.

The issue for Josh was getting that band together. At first, it was him and his sister Sara (backup vocals), her then boyfriend and later husband Trevor Spilchen (on bass, even though he was a guitar player), Josh's friend Steve Marshall (on guitar and backup vocals, despite being a BASSIST), and a rotating list of drummers, eventually finding Ian Casselman in a series of classifieds in a newspaper late into the bands life. This lineup didn't last long, as once Sara became pregnant with her and Trevor's first kid, they stepped aside... leading to 2 new members joining: Josh's friend Matt Webb (originally a keyboardist), and Steve's pal Morgan Hempstead (the man who bestowed them the Marianas Trench name). It's tough to say who plays what on a lot of the Ramsay Fiction tracks that make up Cooler Than Me, as I think they come from two different recording sessions, if not more. Same goes for a lot of the self-titled EP work too, as we know at least two tracks from that era, an early recording of Fix Me, and a early recording of Skin & Bones, were both first made public to people in 2004... months after Steve and Morgan left, and Mike Ayley joined the group after getting to know everyone as Ian's roommate.

In fact, for the longest time, a lot of the Ramsay Fiction stuff was lost media, songs that nobody outside of a rare few had ever heard. As of April 1st this year, this is no longer the case, and all the songs have been found and preserved (yes, even PMS... despite it being taken off Youtube, has been saved.)

To talk about these songs is hard. There's definitely a lot of emotion and pain in these tracks, and the overall sound is very 90's, going for more of heavy grunge and alternate rock sound, very reminiscent of Matthew Goode. But you can also hear those other elements creep in from other acts Josh has referenced time and time throughout in small snippets. The biggest thing holding a lot of these songs back is a mix of production (which is still insanely impressive for the time period and the fact it was done by a teen no less), and lyrical ckunkiness, making them semi hard to decipher.

What do I mean by this? Take track 1, the one everyone knows: Primetime. The song's verses speak about how something is this, but the person is the opposite... bu we don't get a clear picture of who the person is.. only that supposedly a hit of heroin will make everything feel better. It's odd that this is the song that's somehow lasted the test of time out of all these tracks. But hey, it did lead to a great callback on End of An Era.

Track 2, Shiny Like Dirt (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bG-OoIsFbow), is truly a song where Josh took a ton of ideas he had for songs, and threw it against the wall to see if it would stick. And... it does stick, but also doesn't? The chorus is super catchy, basically admitting he's a confusing person, and that nothing he does makes sense... and yet, despite it all, he still has fears of the unknown. The "coming up for air" bridge is probably my favourite part, but it's definitely an earworm I return to occasionally. I've also linked it in case you've yet to hear it.

Track 3: Shallow. The song we've known about for the longest time, the one the fandom cherished like a baby... and honestly, it's probably my least favourite? I've tried to decipher the lyrics on this one for ages, but I can't come up with anything concrete. I do think the song has a good tone, and the guitar solo is totally awesome. In fact, there's a lot of great guitar and bass work throughout a lot of these songs. But there's something missing for me on this one.

Track 4: Playing Dead. This seems to be the earliest recorded song of this bunch, going off Josh's voice here. And honestly, I think it's the closest tonally to a current day Marianas Trench song. There's a bit of a swing sound going on in the drums, the harmonies.... and it's an interesting number overall. Also, it's our clearest sampling of Steve's voice, and just how close it is to Matt's vocals xD... it seems to be a simple love song about a girl and how he's open to roleplaying almost anything with her, using "playing dead" as his main metaphor. It's the black sheep of the CD, but a good one.

Track 5: Hideous. Here we go... the first track Josh ever wrote about his bulimia and depression... and how it was eating him from the inside... and how he was asking for help, even though he wasn't fully ready to accept it at the time. The beginning parts are very slow, and methodical.... only for the song to pick up energy in it's second half and become truly one of the standouts on this album.

Track 6: PMS. Okay... so... this one is tough to talk about. We knew for years it was supposedly very comedic in nature and that it was also politically incorrect, but that was it. For those of you who still have not heard it, there's a copy of it in this Discord server in the links and archive section: https://discord.gg/d5M3xVN9

As for the song itself, I personally really love it. It's a song about Josh being petty to a girl and truthfully telling her off. It's definitely of its time period, but in the best way possible. And once again, the guitar work here is SO GOOD. If you can stomach a song that truly is a time capsule and understand that Josh would never write anything as juvenile today, give it a listen.

Track 7: Don't Touch Me. The song that holds a special place in my heart... as I was the one to LOCATE IT after 18 years in the massive pile of MP3.com links that were given to the Internet Archive in 2021. And it's a ballad all about Josh dealing with both the arguments and turmoil he would feel when coming down from getting high. Truthfully, this might be the most emotional song of this batch, and one that definitely sticks its landing.

So, my overall thoughts here are to give these songs a listen, and understand them for what they are: the start of a musical prodigy finding his footing and his sense of style while getting clean and hoping somebody, anybody, would give him a chance. While the tone might not have influenced Josh’s style fully going forward, there are elements from these songs that were taken and repurposed into later Trench tracks.

Luckily, and also sadly... Jonathan Simkin & Chad Kroeger gave him that chance. And thus, we got ourselves a self titled EP... and a full title debut. But that'll be next time.

[icallhimjoey]

Never Over

♥ ♥  rockstar!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Following “Only Now”, “Over Now” and “Then Again”, the story continues. You agreed to have coffee with Eddie, because Eddie needs to speak to you. Sure, he wrote that letter, but he needs to have an actual conversation. So you do, and then, afterwards, it sort of… all just, goes to shit.

CW / disclaimer: 18+, language, fem!reader, mentions of smut, angst, substance abuse, hard drugs, alcoholism, lots of being sick, addiction, codependency, withdrawal symptoms

Author’s note: So, I was really convinced that this story was over for me. That the three prior parts to this would remain a trilogy, and that, if I were to ever write for Eddie again, it would be something entirely different. But then I got a message from my girlie and, shit. Here we are.

Wordcount: 10.7K

(find all four parts of this story here)

The rumbling of the engine and the gentle rocking of the vehicle did a good job of slowly letting Eddie fall asleep. It quickly became too difficult to keep his heavy eyelids open still, but the wide grin on his face was there to stay.

It was late, and the day had been long, but Eddie was happy. So very happy. Everything was coated in a light layer of joy, satisfaction, contentment, fulfillment and love. Even grumpy band members with snarky comments coming from the other bunks didn’t spoil his mood.

They weren’t rose-tinted glasses that falsely made him think everything was perfect, because he knew they very much weren’t perfect. However, there was a beauty in being sure.

Eddie felt sure, and Eddie would tell everyone that he felt sure all the time.

You, on the other hand, were very consistently unsure. About everything. Constantly.

The entire week leading up to meeting Eddie for coffee after Nancy and Jonathan’s wedding you’d been unsure. Eddie wanted to talk. Had to get things off his chest. And you’d said, or, had written in your case, that you’d go to meet him. But you were so very unsure about the whole thing.

You were very hesitant. Completely in two minds. On unsteady footing. Wobbly legs. Constantly all up in your head, overtaken by thought and hesitation. Yes, you were going to meet Eddie for a coffee because, why not? But no, you really shouldn’t go to meet Eddie, should you? Especially not after regret found you fast after what you’d done. It was sort of waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs in the grand lobby, where you spotted it in a huge mirror and it kind of scared you.

The person staring back at you was someone who just cheated on her boyfriend. With Eddie. Who was still upstairs, in Nancy and Jonathan’s bridal suite. Asleep.

Regret.

It immediately made you want to sneak back upstairs and take that note that you’d left. You should have never fucking done that. Everything about it had been delicious, but, at what cost? Thank God you at least looked fine. You’d been on top for a reason; not a hair was out of place. No one was to suspect anything had happened.

“Hey,”

Except maybe Steve.

“Where’s Eddie?”

You looked at Steve in the large mirror as you smoothed out your dress, and you didn’t really know what to say. You didn’t want to lie to your friend, but you could hardly tell him the truth, could you?

“Where’s Matt?” 

You omitted Steve’s question with one of your own, as if knowing where Matt was at influenced the answer you’d give him. It would, actually, but that’s not what you wanted Steve to think.

Too late though.

Steve looked at you a second before answering, “Joyce has got him in a death grip, actually got him onto the dance floor– hey, are you okay? Did Eddie leave?”

“I’m fine,”  you smiled, turned to Steve and tried to let your smile reach your eyes. “We talked.”

You did talk. Well, Eddie talked. Eddie got to say a lot of things, needed to get things out that you only half-listened to.

“Long talk,” Steve raised his eyebrows and clicked his tongue. The judgment coming from him made you roll your eyes.

“Yea, well, there’s lots of things to talk about, isn’t there?”

You walked past Steve, ready to get back to the party, but Steve grabbed you by the arm before you could.

“You wanna be honest with me?”

“Steve,” you pleaded, not wanting to get into it. The ‘not now’ followed unspoken, silently. You were trying to do your best to keep all the bad feelings at bay. Everything was so fun a minute ago, you’d been so in control of everything. High on power. Where had all of it gone all of a sudden? You realised just then how fleeting all of it had been.

“Where’s Eddie?” Steve asked again.

“Upstairs.”

Steve’s expression fell and his grip loosened in surprise. You took your chance to escape him and power-walked as fast as your heels could carry you, back into the solarium. You saw Steve enter seconds after you did and were glad he hadn’t gone up to find Eddie but had instead decided to stay out of it.

Smart man.

Smart men minded their business.

But then you saw him walk over to Robin and nod his head before stepping outside with her following his tails. There was no way they weren’t going to talk about you. But, so what? They could talk. You made the conscious decision to not care, because your boyfriend, the very one who didn't dance, was on the dance floor, getting instructions from Jim Hopper as Joyce tried her best to get him to follow her lead. They had every onlooker in stitches.  

Then suddenly something panged in your chest and realisation dawned.

Matt was too good for you.

You didn’t deserve someone like him.

Fuck.

Look at that goofy goober. There wasn't a bad bone in that body.

You were going to have to tell him. Tell him everything. Oh no, and he fucking loved Eddie too. Loved Corroded Coffin. Matt was such a fan, and you had just... ruined all of it, hadn’t you?

Shit.

You saw Hopper applaud proudly, booming voice going, "You got it, kid!" when Matt got something right, and he laughed as Joyce encouraged him, praising him for even trying with her at all.

Yea. You were going to have to tell him.

Not today, though. But soon.

Your coffee meeting with Eddie hadn't gone like you had expected. You hadn't known what to expect at all, really, but you had never anticipated for Eddie to be quite so brutal. So toxic. In a way it helped, because it just proved to you that Eddie was still Eddie, no matter how honest and up front he was now.

He was just sober now. Had a bit more insight and knew how to use his words right.

Walking into the coffee shop, you saw that Eddie was in disguise, already sat at a table in the far back. He had his hood up and was wearing sunglasses indoors which inadvertently only pulled more attention towards him, but it was whatever. It's what celebrities did, and sometimes it genuinely helped, so Eddie wore the uniform of a rockstar that didn't want to be bothered. You got yourself a coffee and sat down opposite him.

You kept your coat on and gave a tight lipped smile as Eddie removed his sunglasses and reached across the table to grab onto your forearm for a moment in greeting as he smiled warmly. Eddie seemed a little nervous, but excited to see you.

You were distant. Cold. You needed to be, because for seven agonizing twenty-four hour days you'd thought of everything Eddie could say that held potential to reel you back in, and you weren't going to do that to yourself.

Eddie wanted to talk. So you were going to let him talk. Talk, listen and then leave. That was the plan.

And so, Eddie talked.

Eddie talked to you with a tilted head, apologetic scrunched up eyebrows and hands that reached to touch you every time he mentioned you. Eddie talked and forgot all about his coffee.

He spoke of childhood trauma that shaped him, his attachment issues, his inability to root anywhere properly and of finding solace in familiarity. How he looked for escapes, easy fixes to cure him from the outside in, and how awful he felt about everything he'd ever done to everyone to make them feel bad.

"Especially you."

You had a hard time looking him in the eye, studied your coffee instead.

"I know you don't owe me anything... not your time, not your friendship, not your love... you owe me nothing, but, please let me give. I want to give, you deserve everything that I never gave before, and I want to give it to you now."

You could tell Eddie went to therapy. These were beautifully crafted words for you, but you didn't want to let them in. Didn't want to let them touch you. Didn't want to let them come even slightly close.

"I'm glad you're better now," was the first thing from your lips. Besides small nods and tight smiles, you hadn't said anything yet.

"I really meant everything I wrote in the letter I sent,"

You nodded slowly, then took the last sip of your coffee and looked at your empty cup for moment. Eddie took your silence as an invitation to repeat the things he'd written. After listening to it for a few seconds, you cleared your throat and interrupted him.

"You don't have to–... I read your letter. I know what it said."

You sounded colder than you intended, and winced inwardly. But maybe it was good that you came off extra harsh, because you saw it take effect immediately.

Eddie's jaw tensed as he sat back in his chair a little. He looked at you a moment, then asked, "Have you told him?"

Matt.

"There's nothing to tell," you shrugged, and it made Eddie scoff. He looked around the room, as if to check if anyone else was hearing this. Nothing to tell? Come on. There was plenty to tell.

Eddie reached into his pocket and retrieved a note. Your note. The note you had left on the pillow that said you'd go have a coffee with him.

"This was cute," Eddie held it up between his index and middle finger, then flung it onto the table where it landed in between you.

You inhaled a sharp breath as you looked at your handwriting.

"So, um, thanks for this Eddie, good luck with–"

"Whoa... hey, you're not just leaving?" Eddie sat up in his seat.

"We've had coffee. You wanted to talk, and you talked."

"But... no, wait, that's not– we slept together a week ago,"

"Shut the fuck up," you panicked, hissing through your teeth as you ducked into your shoulders and looked around to check if anyone had heard him.

"Tell me," Eddie sat up, moved in closer, both elbows back on the table. "What do I need to do to make it right?"

You blinked at him, a little dumbfounded.

"You putting that on me?"

"No, I– I just... I'm just asking, is there anything you think I could do or say that will fix everything I've done?"

"That's a big ask, I don't think so,"

"There's gotta be," Eddie said, confident. "There is. I'm gonna figure it out." and he sat back, legs spread wide with a disgustingly smug look on his face.

There he was.

Therapy and sobriety could do a lot, but it couldn't erase the man that Eddie had become over the past few years.

"Okay, well... enjoy that. I'm gonna go, good luck with... I don't know, life, in general–"

And as you got up, Eddie suddenly shot a hand out towards you and grabbed you by the wrist. For a small moment, you saw 17-year-old Eddie stare at you pleadingly. He almost looked... scared.

"I can't, Eddie..."

You thought of what else to say. Something good, to make him feel better. Something sweet, to make him smile, maybe. But then all you managed to say was,

"I'm sorry."

And with that, you gathered your things, turned your back and walked out. The second you were out of Eddie's sight, you broke, face scrunching up as you let the tears flow freely.

You were going to have to tell Matt. Tonight. You had to.

But then you didn't, did you?

Because what were you going to tell him?

"Hey remember that celebrity that you really love? Yea... same."

You couldn't.

And so, you didn't.

Until a few days later, Eddie called whilst you were at work. A classic move. Eddie knew you wouldn't be able to pick up. Knew he'd catch your answering machine instead. He wanted to leave a message.

"I know I'm not supposed to be calling you, I know this is stupid and I'm crossing all sorts of lines and boundaries, and I'll probably make things worse, but, fuck... what else am I supposed to do? Pretend nothing ever happened? Pretend that I don't think of you every second of every single fucking day? I can't... I don't know how I'm supposed to... that's not– I don't even want that to be an option. I don't want to pretend that having sex with you,"

Eddie paused. Sighed.

"That wasn't just a casual fuck, that was– we used that bridal suite for what it was meant for, I don't care if you don't want to hear it. That was making love. Shit, I fucking love you, I need to... You gotta– what do I have to do, you gotta tell me. There's gotta be something. There's–"

The phone suddenly clicked.

"Hey," a male's voice answered Eddie.

"Is this um... is this Eddie Munson?"

Just over a week after you and Eddie had met for coffee, Steve was meant to meet Eddie ahead of a Corroded Coffin gig. Small venue, not far from where Eddie lived, and they were going to get Indian food. That was the plan. But then Eddie didn’t show, and Steve waited for thirty minutes before asked if he could make a call.

No one answered.

Worry shot over Steve, because Eddie had been good. Eddie had been really reliable these past few months. They didn’t meet up often, but when they did, Eddie would check and confirm their plans several times. Eddie made sure to not fuck up anymore, to be there for his friend, to make this right and prove to himself and to everyone else that he was doing better now. That he was sober and present and better.

But thinking of it now, Steve hadn’t heard from Eddie since they said they’d go for Indian food ahead of the gig Steve was going to attend. That was well over a week ago. He contemplated for a minute but then decided, fuck it, and left the restaurant. Something wasn’t right.

When he rang Eddie’s doorbell, he was buzzed in pretty quickly and it gave him a little hope. Maybe Eddie had just forgotten. Had gotten stuck in a song writing mood where he’d forget all about time and space and was just creative. In the flow. Spaced out, but in a good way. Steve crossed his fingers that Eddie was spaced out in the best way.

But stepping out of the elevator, he walked past a sketchy dude, the type of smug, criminal-looking guy Steve would usually steer clear off, who he saw had left the door open to Eddie’s luxury apartment.

Inside Steve found Eddie on his couch, expressionless, sort of dead-eyed. He didn’t even look up until Steve accidentally kicked a glass bottle that clattered loudly against the floor tiles, and even then it didn’t really seem like Eddie was fully in his body.

“No, no, no, no… Eddie, what the fuck,”

There were fresh coke lines on the table in front of Eddie and bottles just, everywhere. Some empty, some still somewhat full.

Fuck.

Eddie had relapsed, and he had relapsed hard.

The place looked ransacked, like Eddie had partied for a full week and hadn't let the cleaners in. There was just, shit, all over.

Eddie barely even heard Steve, but there was a shimmer of recognition in Eddie’s eyes when he saw him, followed by a disconnected smile.

“Harrington,”

Steve had never seen anyone like this. In this state. He knew Eddie had problems with alcohol – everyone knew of the alcoholism, it had been widely reported before. Just like everyone knew of his stint in rehab. And sure, Eddie used to deal a little in high school. They'd get high on bad quality weed together on Fridays sometimes, but Steve never thought that Eddie was the type of dude to snort actual lines of cocaine off tables. Especially not in his own home. Especially not by him fucking self, alone.

Shit, Eddie had been so good. He’d taken responsibility for the bad things and he’d been so good about everything.

“Forgot about dinner?”

Steve knew logically Eddie probably didn’t know what time it was, or even what day it was. He was about to miss another one of his own gigs, for fuck's sake. But the mention of food did something to Eddie.

Steve saw Eddie grow green in real time whilst he stayed overwhelmingly calm.

He’s about to hurl, Steve thought, suddenly panicked because Eddie’s place only had expensive furniture, the type of stuff Steve could never afford. And Eddie remaining so deeply calm only fucked with him more, because, why wasn’t Eddie rushing to a toilet?

Eddie leant forward slightly, only a little, and was just going to throw up right where he was sitting, so Steve darted around, found a sort of long vase stood in a corner and planted it right in between Eddie’s legs. Eddie immediately started filling it up, emptying his full stomach contents until Steve was sure the vein on Eddie’s forehead was going to pop and his throat had to be absolutely aching.

“This isn’t… fuck man, what are you doing? What happened?”

Eddie spit into the vase a few times, wiped a hand at his watery eyes, then at his mouth and sort of... babbled something. Steve could barely follow any of it, none of the noises sounded like actual words, until he caught your name. Eddie said your name and Steve thought Eddie was about to throw up again, but instead, Eddie looked at Steve and seemed a little more present. Sad and fucking hurt, but present.

“Ed… you can’t be–”

A heartshattering sob burst from Eddie's chest.

Eddie broke down and let himself fall onto his couch, curling up into a ball as he cried. Maybe it was the realisation of it all. Maybe it was Steve being there and Eddie being able to see the sheer fear in his friend's face. Or maybe it was just that it had been six consecutive days of this bullshit and he'd barely slept.

Steve looked around, sort of… defeated. Everything was a mess. The apartment had drugs and booze all over. Eddie was drunk, had coke crusted around his nose, was sweating, was crying and was sick. It was all fucked up. He had a gig in two hours. Steve needed to call people. Steve needed to get help. Steve needed to call someone, get help and...

He needed to get rid of all of the shit.

If Steve was going to help, he needed to start with getting all the substances out.

“Here, come on,” Steve took hold of Eddie’s arm and pulled him up. Helped him into the bathroom and sort of, propped him up next to the toilet with his back pressed against the tub. Then placed a glass of water next to him.

“Small sips,” he instructed, not even sure if that really was what was best.

Eddie's cries sounded worse in the bathroom, and Steve didn’t know what to do. Eddie’s voice echoed throughout the whole apartment now and sometimes, it was just wailing that turned into more vomiting, but then other times they were words, things like, sorry, I fucked up, I can't, I don't and your name.

Eddie kept crying your name and it made Steve aggressively wipe at his wet eyes all angrily as he collected bottles and other trash into garbage bags.

When was this shit going to fucking end?

When Steve called you, you let the call go to your answering machine.

You'd been crying and didn't need to talk to Steve right now. You knew Steve knew. Had heard from Matt, who had probably told him everything. Steve would say things like, I told you so. And, you brought this onto yourself. Shit you didn't want to hear. Truths you couldn't really face right now.

But when you heard Steve's voice on the tape, everything changed in an instant.

Steve's voice cracked, like he'd been crying and he sounded desperate. Panicked. Completely stressed out of his mind.

"I need you to come over, I'm sorry... I didn't want to call you, but you need to– I need you. Eddie's been... he's relapsed. It's bad. I don't know what– how I can–"

The phone clicked.

"Steve?"

You'd picked up , and Steve sighed a breath of relief. You were both sniffing down the line.

"I'm sorry," Steve said again.

"Where are you?"

"Eddie's apartment. It's... you need to know it's bad." Steve's voice didn't leave any room for questions. This was serious business. Steve would never call you over to Eddie's apartment if it wasn't absolutely desperately needed for you to be there.

"I'm on my way."

You'd never been to Eddie's apartment before, but you knew exactly where it was. Knew to steer clear of the area. Avoided it at all cost for a very long time, and found stupid excuses when Matt asked about it.

Steve buzzed you in and waited for you outside Eddie's front door. He needed to warn you extra before you were going to walk in, but stepping out of the elevator in a frenzy, you didn't let Steve stop you.

Just waltzed right in.

But the apartment was quiet, and it was just... messy. Kind of disgusting, actually.

You'd already been crying, emotions had been running high all day, so tears found you fast as you clasped a hand over your mouth. Steve caught up with you, said that he'd been cleaning for a little while already, but he didn't know what to do with the cocaine on the table, or the pills he found in the kitchen.

You sort of looked around in silence together for a moment.

This was insane.

You were scared Steve was going to say anything about Matt. About Matt finding out. About you and Eddie fucking in Nancy and Jonathan's bridal suite. But Steve said nothing of the sort.

"Corroded Coffin was meant to be on stage in an hour," with a broom in hand, Steve was a little relieved to now share the burden of all the horror he'd walked in on. He'd also called Eddie's manager. Said Eddie wasn't feeling well and wouldn't be able to make it. Everything told Steve that his manager knew. Understood. But nothing else was said, nothing about drinking, or drug use, and Steve thought that maybe they already knew, because Eddie also hadn't shown up for sound check.

"Where's Eddie?"

Before Steve could say anything, you heard someone cough and retch. Bathroom.

"Wait, stop," Steve tried, but it was to no avail.

You found Eddie, arms folded over the toilet seat, messy head of hair resting atop, heaving.

"My baby," you sighed upon the sight of him, voice cracked, immediately crying. My baby? Where the fuck did that come from? Somewhere deep within, you thought. It pained you on its way out, you could feel it pull up from the pit of your stomach.

Steve frowned at it. He hadn't called you over to let you fall back into old patterns.

Eddie heard you and dove down deeper into himself, moved away a little, but remained on the toilet seat still. Refused to look at you because you weren't meant to see him like this. Ever. Pathetic excuse of a person.

"Eddie?" your voice was soft, small and high-pitched as your throat constricted with emotion as you kneeled down next to him. Eddie turned away, and when you reached a hand to softly touch, not to startle, but to comfort, you felt Eddie was shaking.

Steve stood in the door of the bathroom and looked at his two friends. The two people who'd been his best friends for a long time. One hiding his face into his arms over a toilet bowl, the other now moving from her knees onto her butt to sit with him, resting her chin on the other side of the toilet seat, one hand touching his arm, thumb slowly rubbing dry skin, waiting for Eddie to acknowledge her presence. One of them pretending they weren't even there, the other desperate for a connection to be made. Both quietly crying; your lip quivering, Eddie's shoulders shaking.

If this moment wasn't encased in the most awful, absolutely horrid circumstances, in a bathroom that could really use a fucking clean, Steve would've thought it was almost sort of romantic.

But it was bullshit, is what it was.

Seeing the two of you together like this, something dawned on Steve. Something that he somehow had always known was now staring at him, right in his face.

This was just like when you were 18 and Eddie had been sick after a house party where he'd been laughed at, had been ridiculed by some jocks. You'd sat with him all night until you'd both fallen asleep in the bathroom where you'd left mascara streaks on the floor tiles.

Or like when you'd been in a fight with your dad and Steve and Eddie found you on the steps of Wayne and Eddie's trailer. You'd hidden in their bathroom all night with Eddie on the other side of the door, softly talking to you until Steve decided, this wasn't what he'd come over to Eddie's for, and had gone home.

Or like when Steve had thrown you a surprise birthday party when you turned 19, but Eddie hadn't been able to make it because of work, and you'd just sulked all night. Steve had put so much effort into the preparations, and then, all throughout the party, he had put effort into cheering you up.

It was always the same type of shit with the two of you. Always so much effort. And it was just, never ending. This was who you were. Three friends who just... had a lot of bullshit happening, all of the time. You and Eddie always with the drama, and Steve kind of always there to help. It was always the same story. This was never gonna be over.

"Eddie, what did you do?" you whispered, and your voice revealed a little fear, but it carried mostly care.

"He fucked up is what he did,"

"Steve," you scolded.

"Wha–... am I wrong?"

Steve's anger built. Completely inappropriate, you thought. This was a delicate situation. A situation you'd been completely kept out of before. All those times you hadn't answered Eddie's phone calls all those months ago. All those times Steve told you that, Eddie was going to be fine. He was going to be fine, at some point. Get the help he needed. Get over whatever the fuck he'd been doing. You'd protected yourself and you'd listened then. Trusted that Steve was right. Gained strength in yourself and didn't allow Eddie to be a part of your life.

You had felt guilty then too, but... never like this.

This was the type of guilt that made you pick up when Steve called. The type of guilt that made you not even question going over to Eddie's apartment. That made you want to fix things. Fix Eddie. Fix all of it.

Guilt was the main emotion of the day. The real star of the show.

"Well? Eddie?"

Steve stood in that doorway still, broom in one hand, the other on his hip. Brow furrowed. He looked like his mom and his dad simultaneously, which, you weren't going to mention. You had no death wish.

"You've been crying out for her for over an hour, so I got her for you. She's here. Now what?" Steve spat.

Frustration and fear accumulated into this anger cocktail that Steve was spewing out at Eddie. Inability and helplessness, the complete not-knowing-what-to-do of it all that really didn't help. And now Eddie hid away and pretended you weren't even there and it rubbed Steve wrong.

Steve threw the broom he was still holding which landed hard on the bathroom tiles, making you flinch, before he left the two of you alone. Went back to the kitchen. Started furiously clearing counter tops. Had to not see you for a second.

"Eddie," you whispered, hoping that maybe he'd look up at you this time. Look you in the eye. You recalled how just over a week ago you'd been so dismissive of him. Heartless. Tried your best to come across it, at least. When you still thought that if you let Eddie in, he'd come between you and Matt, not realizing that... Eddie had sort of always been in between you and Matt anyway.

Cold and heartless was not the version of you that Eddie needed right now. And it wasn't the version of you that you wanted to be for him.

Eddie made small noises. You thought maybe he was going to say something, but then you saw his whole torso tense up, making Eddie hunch his back as he threw up again. Your hands were fast to push back his hair, collecting it behind his head into a ponytail that you tied with a hair tie you found near the sink. It revealed his face to you. Bloodshot eyes. Pained expression. Wet from crying. Awful skin.

Jesus Christ, it had just been over a week.

Eddie looked dead if it wasn't for blotches of colour that heaving brought to his face.

Not much came out of him. It was mostly just bile, by now.

Eddie struggled through it, stomach muscles spasming, nose snotting, eyes streaming and you had curled yourself around him all the way, like a backpack, pressing a cheek against his shoulder blade. You held him like that for a while, not really knowing what to say, or what else you could do.

A sudden loud clang made you turn your head. You caught a glimpse of Steve walking away, a huge big stinking vase now placed behind you.

"Rinse that out," Steve called out.

Yes. Good. A task. You could help by rinsing out what was very clearly a vomit filled vase, but when you were about to get up, Eddie clasped a hand onto your forearm.

"Stay," Eddie trembled.

"I'm staying, not going anywhere,"

You squeezed Eddie, carefully, but tightly. He seemed to need it.

"Just gotta clean something. I'll do it in the bath, I'll be right behind you,"

Eddie breathed heavily, tried his best to control it, to relax his stomach and not let it spasm, and let go of you. Rinsing out the vase in the bath was disgusting, but looking at Eddie helplessly sat by the toilet still, you couldn't help the overwhelming feeling of wanting to take care of him.

Wasn't that what it had always been?

Eddie would come back to Hawkins to be taken care of. And you always took care of him without asking any questions. Loved it. Loved him. Just couldn't stand him leaving every time.

Vase clean and turned upside down to drip-dry on a towel, you turned back to Eddie, stepped closer to him and that's when Eddie reached back, took hold of your leg. Tugged your jeans, pulled you down, turned a little, found handfuls of your shirt and pulled and tugged until you were sat on the floor in front of him, legs curled around his hips and his around yours. Arms folded around his back, and his strongly around yours. Embracing each other, impossibly tight, clinging, like that would cure everything.

Eddie cried again, buried his head into your neck. He smelled really bad.

"You're such an asshole," you said, your own lips quivering again. You kind of meant it, but hoped it would bring a little comic relief too.

"I'm a fuck up," Eddie agreed.

"You're both bullshit," Steve suddenly deadpanned and it made the both of you turn your faces to look at him.

"I was thinking, I really shouldn't say anything, because who am I... you know? This isn't my business. But then, you made it my business." Steve rubbed his brow, frowning deeply, clearly annoyed.

"Steve, let's not–" you tried.

"No. Let's!"

Steve crouched down right in front of you, elbows on knees, eyebrows raised high and nostrils flared. This is what Steve did when he was angry and had things to say. He'd get real close before he'd scold. Would make sure that you really heard what he had to tell you.

"I don't care what the fuck is going on here right now, between the two of you, but I'm done with it. It's always the same type of shit with you, like I'm stuck in a loop and there's no way out! Fucking groundhog day!" Steve got back up, intimidatingly towering over you, both hands in his hair before he continued.

"I'm not gonna come 'round and listen to you bitch and moan about why Eddie left this time," Steve said as he gestured a hand at you. Then he turned to Eddie. "I'm not gonna tell you–" Steve suddenly closed his eyes, breath shaking, trying real hard to keep it together. "You can't even fucking look at me straight, dude,"

Eddie was still drunk.

"I'm not gonna do it anymore. You can figure shit out for yourselves. I'm done." Steve turned, was about to walk out, but you stopped him. Said, "Steve, he relapsed," like that magically excused everything. But Steve stopped in the doorway, turned his head a little and said, "Yea, but so did you. Eddie with alcohol and whatever his dealers will sell him. You, with him."

Steve walked away. You thought maybe he'd just go into the kitchen again, but when you heard the front door slam shut, you knew he'd been serious.

You looked at Eddie.

Steve was right. Eddie had no control over what his eyes were doing.

"Let's get you clean. Then, bed."

Eddie obliged. Happy someone took the lead for him. Happy you took the lead for him.

But Eddie wasn't so happy the next morning, when he woke up at 4AM, sheets drenched in sweat. He was fucking freezing. You hadn't been able to sleep much and had set up camp in a comfortable chair that you'd moved to sit closer to the foot of Eddie's bed, where it was easier to watch TV. Volume all the way down.

"You should leave," Eddie croaked when he saw you.

"You should sleep more,"

"Slept plenty," Eddie tried sitting up, but was quickly fought back into the mattress by his own nausea. The pain in his head, in his stomach... he knew just the fix for it.

"If you think you're going to be able to find anything, I threw all of it out. Vacuumed up whatever you had lying around, washed everything else down the drain." You said it a little shaky, unsure of how Eddie was going to react.

Eddie thought for a second. He could definitely stick his nose into a dusty dirty vacuum, didn't feel like he was particularly above that type of behavior.

"There's nothing here, so go back to sleep," you were trying to fight off sleep yourself. Wanted to be awake in case Eddie would... in case something would happen.

Three days passed where you didn't leave the apartment. Three scary days and four scarier nights of caring for Eddie, never knowing if what you were doing was right, but doing them anyway.

You cleaned, finished Steve's job and made the place look tidy. Mess free. Aired it out, let Eddie complain about the cold that you skillfully ignored as you worked. You'd thrown all of it out. All the booze, the pills, the coke, the one discarded dirty syringe you found that you really hoped somebody else had used - you'd gotten rid of everything.

You asked Eddie if he wanted water, tea or a nap every time you caught him awake. And every time he'd sort of, frown at you. Didn't need your soft care, just needed a bit of... anything to take the edge of, but then, he always took you up on it. Always had a sip of water, maybe a little bit of tea and then would lay back down, always tried to go back to sleep.

Eddie slept a lot, but pain would wake him at odd hours. Always covered in sweat. Always shaking. Sometimes you'd worry he'd be sick again, but he'd growl he was just hurting.

Anger seeped out through his skin, and you knew it was never aimed at you, but you'd secretly cry once Eddie would drift off again.

On the second night you'd stayed over, you'd woken up on Eddie's couch around 1AM, went to check on him, and found Eddie drinking his mouthwash in the bathroom.

"Eddie?"

"Oh, shit, fuck–" Eddie scrambled to close the bottle, to hide it from you.

"What are you..." you took a small step back, scared of what you were witnessing.

"Don't leave," Eddie said, voice already cracking, afraid that you'd actually walk out now.

You took another small step back which urged Eddie to launch himself at you, arms encasing your strongly, Eddie's damp body pressed harshly against yours in an uncomfortable hug. One you didn't participate in.

"I'll get you a change of clothes," was all you managed to say when you felt how clammy he was.

Eddie sobbed and muttered things about how pathetic he was as you helped him freshen up. You sat him down in a chair as you changed his sheets. He had to stay close, couldn't really be trusted to be left alone, not even in his own apartment, apparently.

"Go back to sleep," you said when you'd finished, and you wanted Eddie to lay back down in bed so that you could sit in that chair he was sat in now, and watch him. Hold guard. But Eddie sort of looked up at you, and you thought he was going to say something. Something sweet, maybe. Something important. But then you both heard his stomach churn, and Eddie had to make a run for it.

He threw up the mouthwash, bright blue vomit clattered into the bath. Eddie seethed with anger, told you to leave him alone. "Don't want you to see me like this," he cried, and he promised he wouldn't touch the rest of the mouthwash, but yelled at you as you washed it down the drain with shaking hands.

Eddie cried. Vomited until it was all bile again, and you urged him to eat.

"Eddie, what if you die?"

"I won't fucking die,"

"You drank mouthwash!"

Eddie retched more, unable to stop it and unable to quite believe people could feel pain like this.

"You wanna go back to rehab?"

Eddie looked at you as if to say, is that a threat? You looked at him, and your expression read that it was a threat. Eddie didn't want to go back to rehab. Really, really didn't. Couldn't have you near him, but absolutely couldn't have you far. He reached for you, scared fingers dug into your skin, and you held him whilst he held on.

On the third day, you'd gotten Eddie to have a little soup and a few bites of an apple slice. Quite a bit of water, too, and Eddie seemed calmer then. Seemed to finally have snapped out of his mood.

You sat up on top of the covers in bed with him, and put on Pretty Woman.

"I'm not watching that big mouthed wench," Eddie had objected. Didn't want to watch romantic comedies with you. Happy people with happy faces and huge fucking smiles.

But you pretended you hadn't heard him, kept the movie playing until you were both sat against Eddie's headboard leant into each other, Eddie's head resting upon your shoulder and your cheek pressed into his hair.

This was nice, you thought. Almost like old times, a little.

Eddie would cramp up in waves. He'd be fine for a while, lucid, and present, and then suddenly, he'd be writhing. You always had a bucket ready, and helped him through it. Eased him back into his pillows, and would climb back into bed next to him. Always over the covers.

It was awful, but this was the process, you thought. It was complete misery, all kind of gross and disgusting, and Eddie was mortified but grew clingy. Needed you there. And so you were, but always over the covers.

That was, until Eddie, when the movie was nearly finished, groaned a little. His face was blotchy, eyes all red rimmed and his hair a tangled mess. You forgot what Eddie looked like without his bangs stuck to his forehead. He always seemed to be wet.

"You all right? What do you need? Water? I can make you more soup,"

"No, I'm just... cold,"

Eddie let his teeth chatter, and you looked around the room for a second.

"Eddie, it's fucking boiling in here,"

"Can you turn the heating on?"

The heating was on.

You took a good look at him. He didn't look as grey as he had a few days ago, but he still looked miserable. Sick like you'd never seen sickness before.

"I'll run you a hot bath,"

You helped Eddie ease into the water and sat on the ledge behind him, Eddie between your legs, so you could wash his hair. Eddie always loved it when you washed his hair, would really melt under your touch as you massaged soapy suds into his curls. But, his hair was one bit bird's nest, and so now, it was an agonizing job that needed doing. You were as gentle as you could be, but Eddie would wince as you worked to detangle the matted mess in the back of his neck.

"I'm sorry, baby,"

"Why does everything hurt so much?" Eddie let his arms wrap around your calves and broke your heart as he silently cried.

Eddie let you wash him until he was all clean and then let you braid his hair after. His hands hadn't left your body since you'd helped him into the bath, and you hoped that it meant that he was over the hump. That this was a turning point, and everything was going to get better now.

That night, you'd slept with Eddie under the covers. You big spooned him. Held him tight. Whispered that everything was going to be fine, and the fact that Eddie didn't seem to be so sweaty confirmed that you were probably right.

It was all going to be fine.

At some point, Eddie turned and tried to kiss you. He pressed his lips onto yours, and for a second, you sort of let it happen. Let your mouths brush together. But it didn't feel right. Eddie was vulnerable, and you were exhausted, and it all felt wrong. So you stopped it. Broke the kiss. Moved your head away a little.

"Let me love you," Eddie whispered. "Let me love you like you always love me,"

"Later, Eddie. You're unwell,"

"I'd be yours, if you'd be mine," Eddie's voice cracked.

Beautiful words that made your chest swell. But these weren't things to dive into now.

"Later, baby. These are things for later."

You didn't reject Eddie, but to Eddie, it felt a little like a rejection, and he buried his face into your neck. Hid in there and kept it there, all snuggled up, until you both fell asleep.

The next morning you stirred awake at 8AM which really felt like sleeping in at that point. Eddie was bone dry. No sweat. No tears. You even detected a little colour in his cheeks.

It was time. Eddie had eaten, had managed to keep it all inside and so, it was time.

You'd done enough.

Home.

You slipped out, wearing one of Eddie's T-shirts still, and didn't leave a note. No dumb, stupid note. None of this was cute, or funny, or in any need of a sad little note that Eddie could keep and then throw at you later. Or, like you'd done, could keep in an old shoe box with other stupid things that you couldn't just get rid of.

You just left. Went home. Sort of trusted that you'd see Eddie later. Maybe. If he really had changed, was willing to at least try to change, like he'd said.

"I'd be yours, if you'd be mine."

You wanted it to be true so badly, but his actions were going to have to speak louder than his words.

You forgot what would be awaiting you at your apartment until you actually stepped inside and were greeted by your own mess. Drawers pulled open, half your clothes on the floor, big empty spaces left where Matt's things used to be. Slapped down and broken picture frames - completely your doing, not Matt's, but glass had shattered and you'd just... left it. You had even ran a bath for yourself, and then had let the soapy water sit and grow cold, because you didn't really deserve a bath, did you?

You remembered how you'd found Eddie's voicemail message two days after he had left it, listened to it with Matt in the room, and listened to it until you heard Matt pick up the phone. The tape had caught his voice, but then it cut off. Matt knew now, but Matt was just as non-confrontational as you were, and had known for two whole days. Hadn't said a word. But the truth had now been spoken into existence with the both of you looking at each other, and there was no way either of you could pretend still. Could pretend to not have heard it. Could deny any of it.

"What else did he tell you?"

It was the worst question to ask Matt, because it revealed there was more to your and Eddie's story than you'd ever told him.

"Enough," was all Matt said, never elaborated.

So, that was it then.

You'd sat on your couch, sort of dazed, stared into space, not even able to really cry even though this was a situation that deserved tears. Then Matt slowly started packing up all his things around you. Matt had stuff all over, hadn't technically moved in with you, but really only ever spent one, maybe two nights a week at his own place. Matt didn't move around with anger, but left the place messy, dropped your things on the floor without caring to pick up after himself. Good, you thought. Stand your ground, Matt. I deserve shittier treatment.

Just before Matt had walked out, he'd said, "If it had to be someone, it's pretty cool that it was Eddie Munson."

It was just like you'd fucking said all along: Matt was too good for you. You didn't deserve someone like Matt.

Self-hatred, absolute vile loathing of every single aspect that build your person, completely consumed you. Regret. Shame. So much guilt. You felt like you needed to hurt yourself because Matt hadn't hurt you enough. He hadn't yelled, hadn't shouted, hadn't said mean things. You only started crying once Matt was gone, and that alone added to all you had to be embarrassed about.

And then Steve called and offered you the greatest distraction of all. Eddie needed taking care of. And Steve was going to let you.

Back in your home now, it all came flooding back, and you sort of fell into the same state you'd been in then. Slumped back on your couch. Crying. Drowning in a weird version of self pity, sort of overwhelmed with how shit it all was. Steve mad. Eddie a mess. Matt gone. You empty. Alone.

You just sat like that. Stared into space, tears running all the way down your neck into the collar of one of Eddie's T-shirts you were still wearing.

Then, your doorbell rang.

You looked at your buzzer a minute, not really moving.

It rang a few more times, until it stopped.

A little bit later, footsteps followed on the stairs, and then, a knock on your door. A muffled mention of your name.

"Eddie?"

You got up, opened the door and found him there.

"I rang different doorbells until someone let me in," Eddie explained, but you didn't really react to that.

Eddie was here.

Actions were going to have to speak louder than words.

He was here.

Eddie looked over your shoulder, behind you, eyes scanning your pigsty of an apartment.

"Oh, shit," he commented, looked at your tear-stained face that was still staring up at him, gaze empty, because that's how you felt. All empty.

"Okay. Come on, your turn. Go sit down." Eddie took you by the shoulders and guided you back to you couch where you let yourself fall back on your spot.

"Tea?" Eddie asked, and then answered for himself, "Tea."

Eddie made you tea. Then started tidying. Cleaning. Just started putting everything in places where he thought they belonged. Did things wrong, but you didn't correct. He took broken picture frames, threw out shards of glass and tucked the photographs into a drawer. Ran a laundry after. Emptied the bath and rinsed and scrubbed the soap rim the water had left behind. Dishes next.

Eddie was sweating, more than was normal, and you knew he was struggling still. Probably felt sick to his stomach. But he was here, and for the first time in for fucking ever, you felt your battery charge with Eddie there. Eddie was charging your battery instead of draining it. Weird, but this was it. The thing. Eddie said there had to be something he could to do fix it. This was it. Eddie was fixing it.

Eddie saw you had three messages waiting on your answering machine, then told you, "Hey, you've got three messages waiting on your answering machine. Want me to play them for you?"

You nodded.

They were all from Steve.

"Hey, are you still not back home?" followed by a heavy, frustrated sigh, "You're going to end up killing each other, you know that right?", then a silence, followed by a loud beep.

Second message.

"I hope you're not answering because you're at work, and not still wiping vomit of Eddie's chin..." a beat, then, "You're like the wrong sides of two magnets who try to keep pushing themselves together. It's not gonna work!" another loud beep.

Third message.

"If you're not answering because you don't want to talk to me, I get it... I shouldn't have called you over to Eddie's place, I didn't know what I expected to happen, but... I spoke to Matt, just that afternoon, and he... sort of explained what happened, and, seeing you and Eddie be all cutesy– it made me mad for him. Matt's a good dude, you know he didn't deserve that... but guess what he said? He was like, this is going to be the best story ever – Eddie Munson stole my girlfriend. Can you believe that?" Steve fell silent for a second, then said, "Sorry I yelled at you. Please call me back when you get this... I'll call again tomorrow if you don't."

Loud beep.

No more messages.

Eddie just looked at you, tried to gather your reaction, but you were giving him nothing.

"You OK?"

With your eyes trained on your coffee table, you gave your head a tiny shake no.

"You wanna nap? Lay down for a little bit?"

They were words you'd said to Eddie many times over the past three days. Instead of answering him, you slumped sideways, rolled yourself up in a little ball, knees against your chest. Eddie immediately stepped closer, took a throw blanket and tucked you in.

"Can I lay with you?"

Eddie hovered, but you didn't answer. Couldn't answer, your throat had closed up with all these negative emotions, all of them aimed at yourself. You didn't deserve softness right now. So then, Eddie didn't lay with you, but instead sat down in a chair. He could just sit there while you slept. Not touching, but, he was close. That was all he wanted, anyway. To be close.

You woke up when your phone rang.

Eddie was quick, tiptoed to the phone as fast as he could and hoped it hadn't woken you up.

"Hello?" he answered, voice hushed.

There was a silence on the other end of the line, and then, "Munson?"

"Harrington," Eddie smiled a little smug smile, happy he caught Steve on the phone.

"Yea?" Steve asked, and Eddie knew what he meant. "You're actually doing this?" Steve challenged.

"I think we might be... well, I am, anyway. We'll see if she'll let me."

Steve laughed, but it was humorless. It said, yea, we'll see about that dipshit. Eddie understood. Therapy had made him understand that everything was going to need proof. He'd ruined trust with everyone. This was nothing new, especially not now that he'd relapsed.

"I swear to God, Eddie. I'm not-"

"I know. I heard you the first time."

Steve scoffed.

"You seemed pretty out of it then,"

"I was," Eddie confirmed. "But you were very clear,"

"No fucking it up, Eddie,"

"I won't."

"Remember? Be mindful."

Oh, Eddie remembered.

"Hey Steve?" Eddie swallowed, knew his words weren't enough, but needed to say them anyway. "I wanted to say I'm sorry, and, um... thank you... you didn't have to, you know... just, thanks."

"You're good. Is she there?"

Eddie turned around and saw you were awake.

"Just woke up, hang on - it's Steve, you good to talk to Steve?"

You held a hand out as you sat up, knowing the cord could easily make it to your couch, and Eddie passed you the handset as he sat back down in his chair.

"I'm sorry," was the first thing out of your mouth, voice all strained.

Steve was silent for a second. He couldn't just accept that and move on.

"You were right. I'm total bullshit," you admitted.

"Hey," Eddie frowned.

"Sorry, we're total bullshit,"

That wasn't what Eddie meant, but that did make him smile. You heard Steve sigh.

"You're not bullshit. I actually think, and this is going to sound fucking wild coming from me, but I talked about it with Robin and she agrees... I think you actually might just be perfect for each other,"

Eddie was close enough to hear Steve on the other end, and he placed a hand on your knee. Let you know he agreed, too. He really fully fucking agreed.

"Stop, you're going to make me cry," you joked, but actually meant it.

"You gonna let Eddie comfort you this time?" You could hear Steve's smile in his voice, could picture it perfectly and copied it.

"I think I might, he's doing a fairly okay job right now," you looked at Eddie. "You've done plenty, Steve,"

Passage of the token. Eddie squeezed your knee.

"I love you, but..." Steve searched his mind for the right words. "But, you're just... a lot, the both of you,"

That made you laugh. He was fucking right.

"Could you still handle, like... 50 per cent of me?"

Eddie leant over, whispered, "Ask him if he can do 40, I'll easily do 60,"

"40?" you asked Steve, and Steve laughed.

"30 and it's a deal,"

Eddie heard, loudly said, "I'm not watching romantic comedies with her, dude!"

"All right, all right. 40."

You laughed and loved how it felt to laugh together, all three of you. You couldn't remember the last time the three of you laughed together like this.

"Love you Steve,"

"I love you too. Hey, is it weird if I come over? We could do a late lunch, maybe?"

Eddie took the phone from you, said, "Yea, no, that's gonna be weird,"

"What? Why?" Steve was confused, but it only lasted a second. "Oh gross, you're going to be open about fucking now, aren't you?"

"Bye Harrington,"

Eddie didn't even properly hang up the phone, but had simply dropped it to the floor instead before moving over to kiss you.

He then fucked you right there on your couch.

Afterwards you'd looked around, had said, "We're even now," and Eddie had burst out laughing. "Oh no, sweetheart, we're far from even. Are you forgetting who caused you all this trouble?" Eddie said, and when you just looked at him. He then pointed a fat finger at himself.

"Yea, but, did you not reach for a bottle after what I said to you?"

You'd placed blame for his relapse fully with yourself, and Eddie gasped, couldn't believe you were actually being serious and hugged you close.

"Baby, I'm not the way I am because of you. It's because of all the..." Eddie waved a wild arm around.

You understood.

"Foundations for this shit show were laid long before I'd ever even met you," Eddie kissed into your hair. "Don't you ever say anything like that to me again. We're not even. I've got a lot more work to do, trust me."

And so you did. Decided you were going to trust him.

Eddie got more help. More therapy. More AA meetings. More keeping busy with other hobbies, like cooking. And baking. He made sure he'd see you every day, would never stray too far, even though you literally lived above and worked in a bar... this was never going to be easy. But Eddie had you, and he promised he'd take care of you and of himself.

You found a way to be together, and then, seemed to never not be together. Joined at the hip again, but without Steve this time 'round.

Steve came over all the time, though. Visited at least once a week. For lunch, or for dinner. To watch romantic comedies with you, and Eddie would join, just because actually, if he didn't focus on her mouth too much, Julia Roberts wasn't that terrible of an actress.

The band had taken a short break, and Eddie had decided they should be open with the public about why. Said it would actually help a lot if people knew about how difficult addiction could be. Would make it less of an awkward conversation whenever he had to explain to people he was actively practicing sobriety.

And Eddie did good. Got real good at all of it again. Had good days, and then good weeks. He felt more and more himself, and Wayne recognized it too. He kind of had his nephew back, said he'd missed him a lot and hadn't known if he'd ever really would get to see him again which had made Eddie cry.

Eddie was doing good, and Eddie knew a large chunk of it was because he had you now.

But then, after a few months of doing good, touring was back on the table, and Eddie immediately grew nervous.

Loneliness was Eddie's biggest trigger, and it wasn't being alone that was an issue, because on tour, you were never really one hundred per cent alone. There were always people all over. Everywhere. All the time. The real issue was the feeling of being alone, especially when surrounded by so many. Eddie's cure for this dull ache of loneliness had always been a lil' drinky drink. Just, a little sippity sip, a tiny little drop. Just one drink, you know, to take the edge of.

Eddie knew this about himself, and so, he was nervous. Scared. Sort of, riddled with anxiety.

You'd suggested some form of training. "We can sleep apart from each other for two consecutive nights, only call each other when we can find the time, just to try it out? See what that does? And then if that goes well, do three or four nights next..."

At 3AM on that first night, Eddie had snuck his way into your apartment and into your bed. Hugged you real tight, like he'd been gone for months.

"That was only a few hours," you'd croaked after checking the time.

"Few hours too many," Eddie'd whispered.

"How are you ever going to do this?" you were more awake then, wanted to have a talk. Face this head on.

"I don't know. I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't cling to you so much," Eddie said, worried you'd judge.

"That's all right," you were quick to make sure he didn't feel any judgment. "I quite like being clung to,"

"I promise I'll get better at this,"

"It's going to take time," you warned, knowing tour started just over a month from then.

"Someday, I'll be better." Eddie snuggled closer, eyes closed, tired.

Someday didn't come fast enough, just like you'd predicted, and so, with some creative paperwork and serious conversations with your landlord, your boss, Eddie's management and the band, arrangements had been made.

Eddie needed you there. And you had your own thing, your own personal problems, serious issues, with Eddie leaving. So, it really worked out for the best for the both of you. The solution to both of your problems was one and the same. You were going to go on tour with them.

"Did I not tell you that you're perfect for each other?" Steve had said with a goofy smile when you told him.

You became part of the Corroded Coffin entourage, not with any other specific job than just... being there. It took a some adjusting, because Eddie was different when he was Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin. There were certain expectations, and Eddie felt like people wanted him to fall into his rockstar patterns, do the things he always did when out on the road. Go to parties, bring parties back to hotel rooms, invite who ever seemed like a fun time onto the bus, drink a lot. You had no idea how Eddie would've even done this if you hadn't been there and, you'd never tell Eddie this, but you were convinced that he probably would've killed himself.

You slept on the tourbus together, had tried to squeeze into one bunk together, but that was only really doable for naps. There wasn't enough room to even roll over without shifting and scooting your whole body when you laid in a bunk alone, by yourself, so doubling up was never comfortable for long. Not for the long stretch of rest Eddie needed after shows. That's when you'd sleep on bunks opposite each other. You would remind each other how many more nights until you'd share a hotel bed again, and then let the rumbling of the engine and the gentle rocking of the bus lull you to sleep. You'd close the curtains to your bunks enough, but never all the way, always leaving a gap so you could see each other.

And sometimes, even the small distance between your bunks was too much distance, and Eddie would reach out a hand from underneath his curtain. You'd grab it and then you'd fall asleep holding hands that dangled in the middle of the walkway.

Everyone else hated it.

"This is worse than when they'd sleep on top of each other in one bunk those first few days,"

"Close your eyes and go to sleep, man. You don't have to look at it,"

Salty comments would come from bunks beneath you, and from behind your curtains, you'd smile sleepy smiles at each other.

Happy.

Eddie was so happy. So sure that this was it now.

Not perfect. Far from perfect actually. There were going to be hard days to struggle through, difficult moments he wouldn't know how to deal with.

But he knew you were going to be there. Was so very sure you'd be there. And he'd be there too.

Eddie was happy.

Had his past with you.

Cherished his present with you.

Felt sure about his future with you.

And that was all he'd ever really need. You.

the end

---

The Taglisted: 

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @sadbitchfangirl @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @eddiemunsonfuxks @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie

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(taglist currently full, sorry)

[stevesbipanic]

Eddie didn't know what had happened.

He'd been fine after the Upside Down. Sure, a handlful of nightmares, a torso of scars and he didn't totally trust flickering lights anymore but on the whole he'd been fine. He thought he would handle almost dying worse but he was ok.

He had his old friends and now new friends beside him, his uncle was ok, hell he even graduated. The town still didn't fully trust him but they didn't really do that before the murder suspicions so he just brushed that off. If anything the murder charges had been good for his band, plenty of metalheads thought it was cool even if he didn't actually kill anyone.

Now graduated Eddie had managed to get a job at the local mechanic shop that didn't care about the charges since they'd been cleared. All those summers helping his uncle fix his van had paid off, Eddie didn't need to deal to support him and Wayne anymore.

Eddie even had a boyfriend now. Sweet, caring, perfect Steve Harrington not only turned out to like men but liked him. Steve helped him through his wound recovery and the two had gone from friends to lovers in the months that followed. Eddie had never felt as happy as he did with Steve.

It didn't matter though. None of it mattered.

When Eddie woke up July 22nd 1986, four months after everything had happened, none of it mattered. It didn't matter that his sides were healed, or that he graduated or that he had a job or that his band was doing well. It didn't matter that out in the kitchen he could hear is boyfriend making them coffee and breakfast. It didn't matter that he'd survived it all.

It didn't matter since Eddie didn't want to get out of bed. Didn't want to move, didn't want to get up to see his boyfriend, didn't want to go to work later or see the kids that night. Eddie barely wanted to breathe.

Four months later all that trauma that he thought hadn't affected him much, had caught up to him.

Eddie didn't know how long he had stared at his bedroom ceiling before Steve had come in carrying two coffees.

"Hey Eds, you're up, why didn't you come out?"

Eddie didn't even crack a joke that he had already come out. Eddie didn't say anything at all.

"Eds? You ok? Are you sick?"

Eddie mustered up all the energy he had to croak out, "I don't know, Steve."

That concerned Steve, Eddie didn't even use a petname, Steve couldn't even think of the last time he hadn't been called Stevie, or sweetheart or baby.

"I made breakfast, want any?" Steve said putting the coffee down and running his hand through Eddie's hair checking for a fever.

Eddie shook his head softly. "Want me to call work for you?" Eddie nodded slightly.

Steve left the room again coming back after some amount of time Eddie didn't know, he just felt heavy, wanting to sick into the mattress. When Steve came back he crawled back into bed beside Eddie, wrapping him arms around him.

The two boys just laid there together, Eddie didn't feel different but the warmth from Steve was at least a small comfort. Eventually he felt like he could talk.

"I don't know what's wrong, Stevie."

Steve sighed, running his hands through Eddie's hair, looking at him sadly. "I think I might." Eddie looked at him expectantly.

"After my first time with all this, I just went right back to normal, thought I was fine, and I was I guess I hadn't seen much and I was alive. Then the next time happened and I lost Nancy and I saw a lot more. I bounced back after that one too, had the kids to focus on, had school to finish. But after that third time, didn't even take a full month after for it to happen. Robin found me in my room, very dehydrated after not coming to work for the second day in a row. She helped me out a lot and after I came back to myself she practically dragged me to a doctor. Double whammy, PTSD and depression. Those pills I take everyone morning? That's what those are for. You don't always get symptoms right after something happens, for all I know the PTSD is from that first night in '83 but doesn't matter it happened and I think it might be what you have too."

Eddie had been quiet during Steve's story, watching him carefully. "So what do we do?"

Steve leant forward, kissing Eddie's forehead softly, "You let me look after you til you're back to yourself, then we go see the doctor and go from there." Eddie nodded and Steve got up again.

"Stevie?" Steve stopped and turned, "I love you."

Steve smiled, "Love you too Eds."

And maybe just that little fact would get Eddie through this.

[laundrybiscuits]

Eddie's mama always used to say that the night sky over Orion was the most beautiful sight in the Alpha Quadrant. She'd tuck him into her side at bedtime and tell him about the way the dim red lamps clustered in the markets never stopped you being able to see the bright stars and the swirling lights of the nearby nebula, so it was just a shimmering sea of red below and a shimmering sea of blue-purple-gold above, light and dark all mixed up together so you couldn’t tell the difference. 

Eddie's never laid eyes on it himself, but he always liked hearing her talk about it. He asked Wayne about it once or twice, when he was younger, but Wayne grew up like Eddie's old man: roaming around systems farther and farther from the Orion sector, following whatever work he could get. Eddie's old man was a sight less choosy about which jobs he'd take than Wayne was, which is why Eddie’s been living with Wayne for about as long as he can remember.

Starfleet offered to help Eddie relocate, after everything went down. They even offered to make sure he got to Orion okay, if he'd wanted it, to reconnect with his heritage or whatever.

He hadn't wanted it. But he also hadn't really wanted to stay where he’d been planetside, where his official job was helping Wayne out with the Starfleet Academy’s satellite campus canteen, and his unofficial job was procuring various not-Starfleet-approved odds and ends for cadets looking for something to help them weather the pressures of the Academy.

Commander Hopper, newly returned from the dead, had made it pretty damn clear that Eddie's sideline was no longer going to be an option, anyway. 

So he'd talked to Wayne, and he'd talked to Commander Hopper, and he'd even talked a little to Nancy Wheeler because she's smart as hell—everyone knows she's one of the top candidates for joining, and a symbiont is going to snatch her up any day now. 

After all that talking, he still doesn’t really know what to do, so Hopper sighs and tells him he doesn’t have to decide right away. 

“I just,” he says later, to Robin. “I don’t know what I’m doing here, but it’s not like I got any big plans somewhere else, either. Plus, everyone on the damn station still looks at me like I’m a murderer. Or at least Orion filth.”

Robin sort of gets it, a little bit, but she’s Starfleet. It’s different in uniform, even for half-Andorians who once crashed a runabout into the side of the base. 

“You could always apply to the Academy,” she says, but she’s got a grimace like she already knows that’s never gonna happen. Even if they’d take him, he’d have no chance of making it through the course, not when he’d squeaked through the standard Federation educational system by the skin of his teeth. He can’t really picture himself in the uniform anyway. Not his style at all. 

“Think those feral bat creatures gobbled up whatever mutant gland makes people want to join Starfleet,” he just says, pulling up his shirt and prodding at his wounds to make her laugh. 

Of course that’s when Steve Harrington walks in, when Eddie’s got his shirt hiked up around his armpits and all his shiny new scars are on full display.

The scars are still a lurid emerald going brownish-purple around the edges. When he’d first woken up in the medbay, he’d been told that they’d probably fade with time, but might never go away despite all the intensive dermal regeneration treatments he’s still going in for every week. He doesn’t mind so much, honestly; he’s never been too hung up on his looks. People who want to fuck an exotic, dangerous Orion aren’t exactly going to be put off by scars, so who knows? This might actually help him out a little in the dive bars he tends to haunt when he gets skin-hungry enough.

But it’s definitely not doing him any favors now, as Steve pauses in the doorway, looking kind of confused. Eddie quickly yanks his shirt back down, hiding a wince. Steve’s already seen him at his worst, Steve’s not a fucking option for a million reasons, so it’s not like it matters, but—anyway.

“Junior Lieutenant Harrington,” he says. “Heard about the promotion. Congrats.”

“Thanks,” says Steve. “I think it’s like, you get three or four concussions saving the station, and the system just puts the promotion through automatically.”

“I can’t wait to see what it takes for you to make Lieutenant, non-junior edition,” says Robin. “Do you think you’ll need to be in an actual coma?”

“Probably, at this rate,” Steve says, wandering over and leaning into her side companionably. “Don’t think anything’s really going to change aside from the pay, though.”

“Nah, just wait.” Eddie rocks back on his heels, grinning at Steve. “You’ll be battling evil wormhole monsters on perilous away missions and teaching alien babes how to love before you know it. The daring adventures of Spaceman Steve! Eat your heart out, James T. Kirk.”

“Henderson still thinks you’re gonna join up too,” says Steve.

“What, Starfleet? Where the hell’d he get that idea?”

“Ugh, we were just talking about that,” groans Robin. “Eddie’s still being stubborn about it.”

Eddie crosses his arms. “Wheeler’s on my side.”

“No shit, Eddie. You’re his…game lord, or whatever.” 

“What—no, dumbass, like I’d ever ask Cadet Wheeler for advice. Nancy goddamn Wheeler agrees I’d make a shit Starfleet officer, so there. Besides,” Eddie says, shifting a little uncomfortably. “I dunno if I could handle not living planetside. I know you guys have missions and stuff, but it’s not the same, is it? You live on a floating hunk of metal, like, ninety-nine percent of your life. Don’t know if that’s for me.”

“Didn’t figure you for the kind of guy who wanted to put down roots,” says Steve.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “It’s not about roots. Don’t you ever feel weird about not living somewhere…you know, real? Everything around you is made exactly for you.”

“And that’s…bad?” says Steve. His brow’s furrowed like he’s actually asking. 

“Not if you don’t think it is.” Eddie shrugs. “I just don’t think it works for me.”

“Okay, yeah, we get it,” says Robin. “You’re off to the next adventure, whatever that ends up being. Better cash in your chips soon, though; Hopper’s not gonna have that recently-reanimated pull forever.” 

Steve frowns thoughtfully. “What about running, like, a transport ship or whatever? Is that weird with the, uh, pirate thing?”

“Little bit,” says Eddie. “But that’s…not the worst idea I’ve ever heard.” 

Actually, the more he thinks about it, the better it sounds. Some shiny little skiff, just big enough for him and some cargo, zipping around from planet to satellite to base, hanging out in random ports. It’ll be a little rough to go solo, and jobs might be a little scarcer than they’d be for a human or something, but then again, he’s used to that. 

No, it’s not the worst idea he’s ever heard.

[brightside-of-the-upsidedown]

I'm not sure how I'll continue it yet, but this is the infamous pastel grunge punk!Steve I ended up writing instead of tentacles, so enjoy XD

Sparked by this beautiful post

By @discodeviant because while I was reading, Beggar's Song by Matt Maeson started playing in my head.

Steve looked into the backroom bathroom's cracked mirror and fixed his hair for the seventh time in the last thirty minutes. It was practically a ritual at this point when he was nervous. Well, maybe it'd become his lucky thing after tonight.

He brushed the hair away from his face and clicked his tongue ring pensively. From one side, his new haircut still had his usual thick brown voluminous waves with highlights that nearly brushed his shoulder. From the other side, he'd had it trimmed down into a disconnected undercut and dyed baby pink. He'd originally been planning on dying all of his hair pink and getting both sides shaved, but had chickened out. He'd still been thrilled by the outcome though.

Or at least he had loved it just this morning. But would everyone else? Had he made a mistake and fucked up one of the only good things about him-

A fist banged on the door and Robin's voice came through the door. "Come on, dingus, you're already pretty. Stop spiraling and let's go!"

Steve smiled and let her in. "Aw, Buckley, I'm pretty? Even pretty enough for you?"

Robin snorted and wrinkled her nose. "Don't push it. Now get your ass up on stage before it escapes those pants and makes a run for it. You're never going to throw those out, are you?"

Steve looked down at his worn thin jeans and yeah, maybe they were a bit tighter than usual in the ass, but their new apartment had a lot of stairs, okay! Despite it being almost more holes than pants, they were comfortable and definitely something his parents would never have let him wear when he'd still been under his dad's thumb. So of course that made them his favorite.

He turned and washed his hands once more. Robin let out a choking noise and pointed at his ass. "That's a new hole."

For a split second, Steve thought she was talking about something else until she poked at a spot on his ass not covered by the pants. There was a new hole in his jeans that showed off a not small peek of his ass and thigh. But it was low enough that Steve wasn't too worried about it.

"Buy a guy dinner first, jeez." Steve teased her.

She just slapped his ass. "Yeah, sure, I know a great little place on Easy Street called Cafe Puttana."

"Did you just call me a whore in my own mother tongue, Buckley?!" Steve gasped dramatically. "And maybe if you dressed like this more often, you'd stop having to resort to handing out free drinks to get a girl's attention." Steve hip checked her as she giggled at him and opened the door. "Now let's get this show on the road before everyone notices their favorite bartenders are both missing. My public awaits." He adjusted his pink jean vest over his Nirvana t-shirt as he stepped out, still picking, still-

"Your 'public' is a bunch of drunks, punks, burnouts, and half dead partiers." Robin hugged him from behind just before they got to the stage in the bar. "So don't let the nerves get you. Just have fun and sing me a song, piano man."

That got a genuine laugh out of him. "I'm no Billy Joel, but I'll see what I can do, uptown girl."

Robin went up on stage to announce him. She hyped him up as best she could given her audience and got a not too bad round of applause. Steve wasn't expecting much, this was a gig he'd just gotten only because he worked at the bar and the band that had been scheduled to play had canceled. He usually worked as their bartender and he was good at it. He probably wouldn't have gotten either job if Robin hadn't stepped up to bat for him.

Steve practiced his breathing exercises as the players they could find on such short notice got ready. He stepped up on stage, gave a friendly wave to the regulars who recognized and cheered for him.

He took a seat at the piano he'd had to tune himself before the show because it got so little use.

"Hey, you bunch of vagrants and drains on society." His words were met with proud hoots and hollers. "It's me, Steve, your favorite bartender." This was met with a loud boo from the bar, Robin playfully heckling him.

"That bunch of assholes the boss hired canceled, yeah, I know. So you get me instead, aren't you lucky? Usually you have to buy a drink to get to listen to my dulcet tones." Steve grinned as the crowd booed, whistled, and catcalled. "So enjoy the music, I wrote it myself. Yeah, that's right, fuck you, I have layers. Or if you don't like it, just shut the fuck up and enjoy the view you bunch of pervs." More catcalls.

Steve signaled the players and waited a moment, waiting for his cue, as they played the intro. They weren't bad for only two days of practice.

Jesus, come talk to me

I am but a blind mess, I am wild and free

I know that I need us more than I need me

One more whiskey, I am wild and free

Steve started playing as he continued singing.

Oh, but I'm a beat-down, washed-up son of a bitch

I got one more cigarette and all my money is spent

But I'ma be damned if I let it keep me down

Oh yeah, I'm a beat-down, washed-up son of a bitch

I got one more cigarette and all my money is spent

But I'ma be damned if I let it keep me down

Steve didn't hear any hecklers, not that he thought anyone was that willing to get on Robin's Shit List, but he still didn't dare look up.

Oh, my mother Mary, come walk with me

I am on four drugs, I am wild and free

I know that I failed less, the less I knew me

Wander through the darkness, and come walk with me

Steve felt good about the beat and the band seemed to be really getting into it.

Oh 'cause I'm a beat down washed up son of a bitch

I got one more cigarette and all my money is spent

But I'll be damned if I let it keep me down

Ay, yeah

Yeah I'm a beat down washed up son of a bitch

I got one more cigarette and all my money is spent

But I'll be damned if I let it keep me down

Yeah, yeah

He timed his breathing as the band trailed into the chorus.

Oh yeah, I'm a beat-down, washed-up son of a bitch

I got one more cigarette and all my money is spent

But I'ma be damned if I let it keep me down, yeah, yeah

Oh, I'm a beat-down, washed-up son of a bitch

I got one more cigarette and all my money is spent

But I'ma be damned if I let it keep me down, yeah, yeah, yeah

Steve nodded and belted the post chorus.

You know that it's not over

It's okay to let yourself hurt

Swimming in the murky water

Won't you come on out? Yeah, yeah

You know that it's not over

It's okay to let yourself hurt

Swimming in the murky water

Won't you come on out? Yeah, yeah

We sing a beat-down, washed-up beggar's song

And we sing it even louder when the money is gone

Because we'll be damned if we let it keep us down, yeah, yeah

Oh, I'm a beat-down, washed-up son of a bitch

I got one more cigarette and all my money is spent

But I'ma be damned if I let it keep me down, yeah, yeah, yeah

Steve blinked his eyes open when he felt a bit of an echo- no, there were people singing along. He recognized Robin's off key voice and smiled. Steve sang out the lyrics with his whole chest.

You know that it's not over

It's okay to let yourself hurt

Swimming in the murky water

Won't you come on out? Yeah, yeah

You know that it's not over

It's okay to let yourself hurt

Swimming in the murky water

Won't you come on out? Yeah, yeah

He could hear a lot more voices raise with his as he sang the last chorus as the band tapered off. "Come on, beggers!"

We sing a beat-down, washed-up beggar's song

And we sing it even louder when the money is gone

Because we'll be damned if we let it keep us down, yeah, yeah

Oh, I'm a beat-down, washed-up son of a bitch

I got one more cigarette and all my money is spent

But I'ma be damned if I let it keep me down

For an embarrassing moment, Steve thought he might fucking cry at the roars from the bar. Yeah, it was a few dozen regulars, drunkards, and partiers blitzed out of their minds, but it was leagues above his self doubt's worst case scenario. He had to swallow hard more than once before he felt confident enough to talk into the mic again. 

"See, that wasn't so bad, was it, you assholes?" Steve knew he was probably smiling like an idiot, but it was hard to care. "Give a hand to the band, they had like two days to fucking practice my crap, holy shit."

The bar clapped and yelled for them. The band looked pleased with the positive attention and a few waved back. One flipped off the audience much to their delight.

"Now, the rest of the songs are covers, the good shit, I promise." Steve announced. "So spend your fucking money, don't forget to tip, and enjoy."

They ended up playing some Nirvana, a little The Clash of course, Dead Kennedys, Siouxsie and the Banshees, through in a Motley Crüe song, and topped it off with his beloved Queen.

To Steve's honest surprise and giddiness, there was a demand for an encore of Beggar's Song. He led them through it one more time before ending for the night. Closing time was in less than an hour and he wanted to help Robin out with last call.

They got a decent amount of tips that he let the band take the lion's share of, but still got a sweet fifteen bucks on top of the thirty his boss had already paid him. He'd be able to buy some pretty good food for him and Robin this month.

That's all I got for now!

The backstory is Robin and Steve moved together somewhere after Robin got kicked out for coming out to her parents.

Maybe she stayed with Steve until her parents told his parents and they called to tell him to send her home, whatever. Robin and Steve decided to strip whatever they could from the house, sell it, sneak into her room while her parents were gone to pack, and they rode off into the sunset. 

Now they have a shitty apartment, jobs at a shitty bar, and they've never been happier. ❤

I have plans to bring Billy and Eddie into it later.

Two Nights Ago

Robin: I volunteered you for a gig

Steve: I've only sang in front of you!

Robin: it's time to fly, I'm kicking you out of the nest, dingus

Steve: does this make you my mama bird?

-Robin throws a pillow at him-

Steve: how could you do this to your child!

[fandomfluffandfuck]

selfcest 👀

I feel like I have been doing a lot of Steve selfcest whenever prompted so, fuck it, we go for Bucky this time.

It's only fair 😘

So, imagine with me, these two Buckys:

We have younger Bucky from before the war, before the draft, who's so much more innocent and trusting than any Bucky that he becomes. At the point that he's transported through timeline fuckery to the future, he's a little older than 18. He just turned 19 last week! Which he insistently points out to his older counterpart, as if a difference of one year makes much difference to a hundred year old man. It's cute. He's young and nieve to the bone despite the hardships of growing up in The Depression, not having much but Steve and his beat-up paperback SciFi novels to keep him company.

And we have older Bucky from after many, many wars but... probably not his last war. He's a hundred or thereabouts. He's stopped counting, really, too tired and too confusing. What years count or don't when so many were spent frozen? That's besides the point, though, because he's grown into his skin. He has a place of his own in Wakanda, and he spends more than half his days without his prosthetic on. He's getting back to feeling like a human without having to have artificial parts to 'complete' him.

It just so happens, though, that when Shuri contacts him and gives him exactly 10 minutes of warning before his younger self shows up at the open doorway to his hut, dropped off from the yawning mouth of a ship that is all Wakandian tech, sophisticated and silent, Bucky is wearing his prosthetic. It's the one Shuri made him, thoughtful in design, for more than fighting--matte black and viened with gold, especially over his left, fourth finger.

The look on Shuri's face as she simplifies all that went on to transport mini Bucky here, this forward in the future, and to Wakanda, of all places, is one of amusement. She's enjoying how the younger version of himself hangs on every word she says. Bucky knows his younger self is fucking mind blown. To say the least. He remembers pouring over page after page of SciFi, almost ripping spines of books apart with how often he would go back through, making do with what he had at the time. This is straight from one of his books, maybe even beyond what the wildest book he was reading could've come up with. And as Bucky from now, who belongs here, leads his younger self further into his hut, he finds that, he too, is amused by the constant chattering.

His younger self is running. his. mouth. Incessant.

Some of it is incoherent excitement and stumbling words, but a lot of it is questions. Question after question. He's like a damn two year old who has just developed the ability to form and voice them and challenge the answers to the. Why? What? How?

WHY?

Most of the answers, Bucky doesn't actually know. He lives here, and he feels connected, but he is an outsider. He's also still playing catch up himself. Bucky, now, does know, however, one thing: his arm is different.

Very different.

And there's something about that young face--rounded with baby fat and smooth without any wrinkles, scars, or too many blemish marks from growing up--that makes Bucky, now, reach out when he asks about it. Younger Bucky has not yet mastered the art of being covert or chill.

Younger Bucky does shut up the moment he extends his non-flesh-and-blood arm forward. Or, well, maybe he doesn't shut up exactly because his mouth stays wide open, but he does stop making sound.

The expression on his sweeter, younger face makes Bucky snort. Gently. It's easy to forget that he once wore his emotions so plainly, openly on his face. It's sweet in a real chest aching way.

Bucky allows his metal arm to not only reach into the empty space between them but also to spread his fingers out.

Palm up...

He holds steady.

Although he finds that he's hesitant to break the silence, so, instead, Bucky jerks his head down, indicating that it's okay for his younger self to touch. And touch he does.

Younger Bucky steps half a pace closer, drawn in by his curiosity, unable to resist with both of his hands coming up to hover and then settle on the body temperature metal. It might be even hotter than body temperature, with the metal being black, heat absorbent, and being in Wakanda, outside in the sun. Either way, his fingers feather over Bucky's fingertips, drawing lines down his digits to come into his palm where he makes lazy circles.

One, two, three, four, five--he circles. It's nearly ticklish in a... sensational, not-so-funny way. Bucky doesn't know what the feeling is, exactly. He just knows that's it's quickly rising from the surface of his prosthetic to his brain, firing through his synapses. Registering unfairly intensely for just a barely-there touch.

He draws more shapes on Bucky's palm, too, finding all the creases, ridges, and shapes just the same as Bucky's other flesh-and-blood hand, only mirrored.

He really is fascinated.

Slowly but surely working his way up and daring to touch him more surely with heavier pressure, younger Bucky continues. As he goes, there's more weight behind his touches rather than being so hovering and feathering. He remains gentle but perhaps is less afraid that Bucky will snatch his hand away.

Younger Bucky, more impatient in his lesser years, is the first to break the silence as he strokes the heel of his palm, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, "can you feel this?" He doesn't seem all too concerned about what that means, if he can or not--if it's too intimate if he can feel every detail rather than just feeling some or none of it at all. He simply wants to know.

Bucky swallows once, twice. His mouth is very dry, for whatever reason, "yes." He can't blame the goosebumps he suddenly has all over his flesh on the temperature outside. It's better inside his hut, much cooler than in the sun, but it certainly is not cold. He's sweating. There's no reason for them, this is an indulgence of intellectual appetite, nothing more, yet... they're there.

Bucky can not help but shiver. The shakes go through him so thoroughly that his metal hand twitches slightly in his younger self's grasp.

Younger Bucky doesn't comment on that. But, he does ask, "what about this?" getting bolder this time, tracing up his wrist and getting closer to his forearm than not.

Bucky nods without looking up to see if his younger self is watching him or not. Bucky is too busy watching the way he finds every detail, feeling each part of his prosthetic. It's strange to see himself and see two flesh-and-blood hands. The same. Not mismatched. He's... he's maybe experiencing this from out of his own body or maybe his head is just slowing down, trying not to think. Either way, he feels...

He feels.

Bucky feels it all. Each touch. He's hazy, but also, he's never been more focused on anything. Ever. He hadn't realized just how sensitive this prosthetic was. He knew it had touch sensors, and he's felt them before, but not like this.

This.

Just the way his own, younger hands explore the metal that is a part of him. Those hands press into his prosthetic, judging the give of it--if it's like flesh or not. His hands span his forearm, tracing the line of what would be bone, if it weren't metal, on the underside. His nails get into the grooves between the plates where the sensation bleeds from just like his flesh-and-blood arm to something like pins and needles before fading into numbness. Nothingness. It's like his nerves are falling asleep when he does that. Scratching. He keeps doing that. Using his nails between the panels and finding the gold rivers like veins.

Bucky shivers again, full-body.

"What about that? Can you feel that?" Younger Bucky asks, although the evidence speaks for itself.

He does.

Then, using the pads of his fingers, finding the sensations of the metal prosthetic for himself and changing the sensations for Bucky, too. Both sides. They're both experiencing this. The touch blooming into something that has taken up the space between them, filling the air.

"This?" He murmurs.

Then, using his entire hand, squeezing or just laying his body heat against his prosthetic, he explores more. Sliding up and down his forearm.

"And that?"

Younger Bucky's fingers criss-cross the ditch of his elbow where the skin would be thinner and more delicate if it were skin. It's not. But it feels like it for Bucky.

Fuck.

What the fuck, Shuri, Bucky thinks faintly. When did tech get this good? This is just magic at this point!

Younger Bucky keeps asking if he can feel this or that. And, while he's at it, he studies his responses and nods to himself, believing it especially when Bucky allows the sensation to not just be inside his body, firing through his nerves, but also on the outside--on his face. Bucky relaxes with the heat. He sighs at the squeezing, like a massage. He shivers with the scratch of nails. He does more, taking a page out of his book and putting that all on display on his face. His reactions, verbal and nonverbal, satisfy his younger self but also feed his interest.

Bucky watches in slow motion as his younger self interlaces their fingers and, and--

Oh.

Bucky is stunned as his younger self lifts his hand slowly to his mouth at the same time that he bends his knees, ducking politely as if he's a prince bowing before a princess, asking for her hand. Then, he parts his pink lips to let slip his pink tongue, wetting his own lips before bringing his whole head forward. His tongue lays flat and limp, lolled slightly out of his mouth. His wet tongue looks all the more sweet and cute against the bold, matte black and shimmering gold of Bucky's arm when--

Younger Bucky licks his prosthetic, draaaaagging his tongue across the back of his hand as if he needs to know what it tastes like.

The wildest part about it is that younger Bucky doesn't even ask. He's apparently given up playing coy. Instead, he just bats his lashes, looking up at him, waiting.

Waiting.

Why isn't Bucky talking?

Why can't he respond?

Why--

Oh, yeah. He's panting. When did he start panting? He's totally out a breath, and his chest is heaving. The best he can give is a wordless nod, still stuck on the sensation of wetness and heat and smoothness, and now the spit drying on the back of his hand. How is he so overwhelmed by so little? He's felt so much. How is this breaking him down to his knees? Younger Bucky should be the one who's blushing and overwhelmed, younger and much less experienced, but he isn't. He's not doing anything but licking another wet, shiny stripe down the back of his hand nearly onto the top of his wrist. Meanwhile, Bucky feels the heat rush to his head. He is blushing.

Blushing badly while younger Bucky busies himself licking his hand again. Again. Tracinf delicate lines as if there's a pattern he's drawing.

Then.

"Oh!" Bucky gasps as his younger self ducks his head, opening wide to take his index finger in his mouth and suck.

His finger is in his mouth. Deep in his mouth, almost his throat, swallowing down to his third knuckle.

He's... he's basically fellating his finger.

After he's sucked and lapped more and he's forced Bucky to let out a strangled, "yea-yeah," in response to a non-verbal, looming question. What about that? Can you feel that?

Younger Bucky pulls away after he answers. He doesn't let go coldly, though. Starting with his thumb, he kisses the tips of his fingers, one by one, until he reaches his ring finger. And suddenly, once he's hovering there--his breath washing in humid waves over Bucky's metal arm--he has a new question. Roving his fingers over the golden ring impressed onto his metal finger, "who's this for?" He asks. His voice is low, husky.

Bucky knows his own voice does the same, dipping low, when he's turned on. He shouldn't be turned on by his younger self getting turned on. He shouldn't be turned on by himself, just younger, sucking on his fingers, lavving at them like his digits are a cock. But he is, Lord help him, he is turned on.

This is really fucking doing it for him.

"Who?" His younger self insists, needing to know just as much as he needs to know every nerdy little detail about his prosthetic.

Bucky shakily breathes, "St-Steve."

Younger Bucky is circling around the ring in his metal hand, he's tracing lines up and down his ring finger, and he's pressing the nail of his thumb into the center of Bucky's palm--it feels like a pressure point despite how he doesn't have nerves there anymore. It feels like a weak point. Ans Bucky's knees were already weak, but now they're shaking. Watery and unsteady. His younger self isn't doing anything--his mouth isn't on his hand anymore, hot and wet and sucking, but it doesn't matter at this point because he's in too deep.

If younger Bucky is shocked by his admission--the wedding band for and from Steve--it doesn't show on his face. Maybe he already knows. Bucky's battered brain gets muttled with the details of when exactly he admitted to himself, when he admitted to Steve, that this was his fate. Their fate. If he married anyone, it wouldn't be anyone but Steve. "Does he touch you like this?" His younger self purrs, voice like silk as he shifts from ducking there, slouched to kneeling.

Christ.

Now he's on his knees.

Fuck, his 18 year old self down there, on his knees, looking up and him and--

Bucky gasps, voice catching in his throat as he turns his hand over to french kiss the center of his palm rather than just press and scratch and toy with it otherwise, "n-not quite like this."

"Oh?" Younger Bucky pulls away for just a second to say so. Then, as if nothing happened, he gets back to it. Kissing down the underside of his prosthetic. Nosing the ditch of his elbow. Brushing his tongue along the impressions of veins that exist in the metal, all aesthetic. Using the tip of his nose to trace the bulge of his metal bicep. And, of course, still scratching along the hypersensitivite grooves of the plates in his arms so Bucky has no choice but to quiver.

"I mean," Bucky mumbles, tripping over his own tongue in a way that does not seem to take over his younger self. Clearly, he has no problems with his tongue. "Oh, I don't--I don't wear this all the time, and this," Bucky stops to breathe, panting, his mouth falling open without any sound coming out for a good few seconds, "uh, uhh, this is the first one I've had that had touch sensors like this, so... oh." He can't talk more. He just can't. Not when--

"Hmm," younger Bucky smirks, continuing his entrancement, continuing to touch.

--not when it feels like that.

"So I guess you're not used to this then?" He blinks up, innocent and yet so mischievous. "And don't you wanna know how it works?"

How did he never notice? How can it feel like that? How is he supposed to do anything else, but let him keep touching him? Bucky's fingers and toes curl. Guh.

"Y-yeah," Bucky admits, gasping.

[emblazons]

a post in defense of (a very much alive) S5 Jonathan Byers

under the cut b/c this is more frustrated commentary than strict analysis, and you shouldn't have to read if you don't want to.

I feel like it must have come from the dry spell between seasons, but I have to say it: all of this “Jonathan is gonna die and that means Stancy could happen” stuff lately is not only giving "I just like angst for its own sake," it's lowkey nonsense if you look at it thematically (in context of the Jon/Nancy/Steve madness yes, but especially in context of the Byers family).

—like? Friends.

Given the Duffer’s track record of refusing to fully kill off major characters even when it could have made sense to (cc: Hopper and Max), I don’t think anyone is actually meeting their end, but let’s be SO serious about who is actually likely to get axed: the boy with a mom, brother, step-sister and girlfriend who have been central to every single moment in this show…or the one they've put into a triangle we all thought was over until S4, who they’ve honestly written into a corner, & whose primary drive in four entire seasons was getting a girlfriend and protecting a bunch of teenagers?

I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's just talk Jonathan.

The Duffers (Matt especially) have openly gotten upset at even the notion of Mike dying because "that's depressing" AND "that's Nancy's brother" (showing the familial ties are a HUGE part of what would keep them from ending someone), in addition to them saying they've thought through every imaginable scenario" on who might die—

—and you think its Jonathan whose meeting his end? King of championing "not liking what you don't have to" and the outcasts in all areas from music taste to being queer...after all the Byers have been through and knowing The Duffers write toward championing the outcasts and those who embrace their differences?

That, combined with the fact that the only "evidence" I've ever seen for him potentially dying has been that speech he gave to Will in the SBP somehow being connected to (you guessed it) setting up angst for Will...I'm gonna take a hard and wild educated guess based on the entirety of the rest of the show and say that was literally written so Will could catch a goddamn break, not as a death tag.

The fact that Noah confirmed it wasn't in the Duffer's OG script, was written day of filming + was done because "it was important for people to see will wasn't alone" is evidence enough for that.

Even so, the fact that there are still at least 4 unresolved plots Jonathan is part and privy to makes his death even less likely, because it wouldn't make sense for resolving anything for him to die at all, never mind in the episodes before our supposed timeskip.

Jonathan's messy relationship with Nancy, the fact that he's the only one who actually knows Will is gay, and the fact that he's the only other character who saw & understood the ULTIMATE Chekhov's gun in the form of that painting (on top of also having a longstanding relationship with Mike )should make it clear he isn't going anywhere from a narrative perspective...and I'm not even sure where the idea that he would die popped up, other than fandom warping the canon and projecting onto the plot.

The Duffers have always been clear about not doing things solely for the sake of surprise + not liking things that don't make narrative sense...and Jonathan's death would be both of those things, done solely for shock value.

I just. Be so serious right now. if you want to imagine the weight of Jonathan dying SOLELY for fandom angst DO THAT...but don't pretend like his death in the show wouldn't be the most poorly foreshadowed thing in this entire show, on top of not matching a single theme of the ongoing Stranger Things narrative. ☠️

Put some respect on his name lmao

Bonus: If you really want to talk about character's dying (and not just jump into angst for its own sake): they haven’t given Steve a proper love interest EVER outside of Nancy, made Dustin cry over Eddie instead of staying close to Steve S4, and haven’t ONCE referenced that boy’s family properly more than a few times in passing (and only by Steve himself).

He is the only character who craves normalcy despite this show being about championing the outcast, was supposed to die seasons ago but stayed because Joe Keery was so beloved, and has now been written into a corner where every single person who is central to him (esp Dustin and Robin) either have a new love interest or are worried about something else more than him, which...if you want canonical evidence for a possible death, you're looking in the wrong corner of this love triangle.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Matt Gertz at MMFA:

Sen. J.D. Vance (R-OH) will be Donald Trump’s running mate for the 2024 presidential race, the former president announced Monday. The move completes Vance’s dizzying transformation — overseen by Fox News and its former star Tucker Carlson — from self-proclaimed “Never Trump guy” to MAGA culture warrior. Vance fills the spot created because Trump dropped former Vice President Mike Pence from the ticket. In 2021, Pence refused to submit to the then-president’s demands to overturn the results of the 2020 presidential election and blamed Trump for a mob of his supporters storming the U.S. Capitol on January 6. By contrast, Vance says he still questions the election results, that he would have taken a different course if he had been vice president, and that “no real Republican with any credibility in the party is still blaming” Trump for the January 6 insurrection.

Vance was a favorite of elite bastions like The New York Times and the Aspen Ideas Festival for much of 2016 and 2017. His bestselling 2016 memoir Hillbilly Elegy, which provided a despairing look at the community in which he grew up and was published around the time Trump became the GOP presidential nominee, made him an in-demand voice to explain Trump’s supporters. Vance either agreed with or played to his audience during this period, publicly denouncing Trump as “an idiot” who was “noxious and is leading the white working class to a very dark place,” identifying as “a Never Trump guy,” and privately mulling whether Trump was “America’s Hitler.”

But Vance also possessed a will to power, and unable to beat the MAGA movement, he joined it. He stopped appearing on news channels like CNN and MSNBC for years and camped out at Fox, making at least 151 appearances on the Trumpist propaganda network’s weekday programs since 2018, according to a review of Media Matters’ database. A closer look at that data and the would-be vice president’s appearances reveals that Carlson — who earned notoriety for mainstreaming white nationalist talking points and concocting sinister counternarratives that minimize the violence Trumpists perpetrated on January 6 — played a key role in Vance’s right-wing rebrand. Indeed, the only figure who may loom larger in Vance’s story is Peter Thiel, the fascist billionaire who employed Vance and then spent millions supporting his 2022 Senate campaign.

[...] Carlson, like his fellow MAGA extremists Steve Bannon and Charlie Kirk, who also regularly host Vance on their programs, reportedly urged Trump to pick the Ohio senator as his running mate. “Carlson said that picking Vance would be ‘a sign of Trump’s commitment to his own voters,’ whose views he said Vance uniquely understands,” The Wall Street Journal reported.

You can thank former Fox host Tucker Carlson for elevating J.D. Vance to MAGA stardom despite his past anti-Trump record.

[originalwinnercheesecake]

Gustholomule: spoilers for For the Future

So we saw Matty again, got lots of him interacting with Gus and Gus friends, and we learn about three new things about him

Spoilers below

1.) He is actually a real good Leader/planer/strategist when he works at it. Wow. Well the planing thing I guess we did have some proof. His take over of the HAS was really well planed, and adapted, especially for a 13 year old who was in a completely new environment and didn’t know any allies/have friends who he knew for a fact would take his side.

Still on a note. I said in my Gus Appreciation post that the HAS club was Gus (unintentionally) at his worst. That he said he created it so he could “build a place were everybody had a voice” but if you look at the way he ran his club (only he brought things in, only he could touch things, he made himself a crown, and referred to voting as “anarchy’,) it seems more like he wanted to create a place where he was in charge of older kids and they had to listen to him. I also said that I believed leaving the club was necessary for Gus’s maturity, and that Mattholomule would be just as immature and unfair a leader as Gus. Just as surprising to me as Matt having such good ideas and plans for “New Hexsides” refuge camp, is seeing that he crossed out some of Gus’s more unfair rules and made the club more inclusive towards all members. I misjudged you Matty. Your a good club President. But you know Gus better now, you’ve seen that Gus has matured and become more considerate since. Please let him back in as a subordinate member.

2.) Matty is a dramatic AF who used a (easily smudging) marker to draw facial hair on himself, tried to get people to call him Man-Tholomule (buddy no one will ever call you that), and used a bad “dramatic twist “ theater line in the big fight when addressing a robot. HAHAHA

3.) The Big one... His name is actually Matt Tholomule. All those times when the fandom asked “ Why does he have such a weird first name?”, “How did his parents come up with it?”, “His Brother is named Steve. IS Steve short for something weird? How do you get one child with a name like “Steve” and then the next is named “Mattholomule”. Times I have personally searched his name on Tumblr and thought “ at least him having such a made up first name makes searching a character without a last name much easier”. (Note I have the  same thoughts on Skara’s name. Is her full name going to turn out to be Skar A?). 

But back to the matter at hand, here is one more reason, besides fan’s questions on the difference of the half brothers names, besides this meaning that the ship name Gustholomule is actually Gus’s first name attached to Matt’s last name. Even besides what that one genius poster pointed out about how Matt always calls Gus “Au-Gus-Tus” with the syllables spaced out and suggested that that was Matt trying to give Gus a really cryptic, unhelpful, hint to try putting more space in his name.

No it’s also funny because of this picture on Gus’s wall.

Matt has a party hat, so we know this was a birthday. Matt being the one in front, the one sitting down, and the absence of Willow and Luz implies that this is Matt’s birthday, and Gus is visiting his house to help celebrate it. Let’s think about that for a moment.

Did Matt’s cake not have “Happy Birthday Matt” written on it? Or if it did did Matt say/Gus think that it just said Matt because Mattholomule would take to mch room? There was nowhere in the house where Matt’s name was written out correctly and nothing saying “Tholomule Family” on it? Neither of Matt’s parents introduced themselves to Gus as “Mr./Mrs. Tholomule”? No confusion was expressed by one of them as to why Gus called their son by his full name? If Steve was able to be there he never pulled Gus to the side and said “Hey FYI Tholomule is actually our last name. My brother’s first name is just Matt.”? Going over all of that, I can only assume that Matt told is family about his little prank before inviting Gus over, and they all played along. Which would mean that the entire Tholomule family are devious, prankster, gremlins, not just Matt. This is a fact that I feel needs to be acknowledged.

Oh lastly while we are on the subject of Matt’s family this name thing just makes me think more that Mason, the construction head, is the Steve & Matt’s father and shared parent. Matt was running his father’s booth in “Covention Day” while Mason outfitted new members with construction seals.  The only reason I can think of as to why such a young, inexperienced, and unsigled, witch-let would be representing a coven subgroup at such a big event: he was helping his parent. Then Mason came back before the Emperor’s coven show, because Matt wanted to attend and to try and see Steve. The reason Mason’s last name was not on the coven list, was because if we saw Mason Tholomule it would have spoiled the joke to early.

[natalynsie]

The Best Thing (Gustholomule Oneshot)

Matt's least favorite event had to be Grom.

Or, at least, that's how it was the last two years.

“Bro, I don't wanna be the fifth wheel again,” Gus complained to Matt as they sat in Matt's room doing homework. Matt layed stomach down on his bed, writing his essay on dual tracks. Gus was working on full-room illusions for his advanced class, so if Matt's essay turned into a book on Gusology, he knew why.

“Yeah?” Matt responded. At least he got to be a wheel. If Matt was anything, it was a unicycle.

“Last year was all, 'oh my sweet potato' and Hunter awkwardly flirting with Willow. Made me miss announcing. But now that's King's full time thing.”

“Okay? What are you getting at?”

“Wanna go with me?” Gus asked, looking at Matt, whose stoic expression quickly burst into flames.

Gus seemed to regret all of his life choices as he waved his hands in front of his face.

“No, no no no, as a friend! Titan, that wording was bad.”

“Oh, oh, okay,” Matt calmed down. Not that he wasn't a little disappointed. But wait– he got to go with a friend this year! Something other than a random date that would ditch him in the first ten minutes. Hopefully Gus wouldn't ditch him.

Gus wasn't like that. He hoped.

Sometimes he felt like Gus was just playing a giant prank on him. Bria used to do things like that, ask him to do things with her and never show up. It was so embarrassing, even before she went bad she did things like that.

But Gus was different.

“Sure, I'll go with you,” Matt responded.

“Great!” Gus chirped. “It's settled. I'll pick you up at 6:30.”

“Sounds great.”

Even after Gus left, Matt worried. It was crazy, he knew Gus was his friend for real. Gus never did anything to hurt him. He stopped calling him Matty when asked, even though Matt kind of liked it (something Gus picked up on and started calling him Matty again). He let him sit with him at lunch without Matt having to convince him. He kept his promises and he never genuinely insulted him.

But the thought still haunted his mind.

He shook his head. Gus was amazing. Really amazing.

Matt couldn't deny it. Every time Gus called him Matty, or rested his arm on Matt's shoulder, or complimented Matt, even if it wasn't even a huge compliment, Matt's heart raced and his stomach filled with butterflies.

It felt kind of wrong. Gus was his best friend, and daydreaming about holding hands and kissing him would be so weird if Gus ever found out. He could only imagine Gus's reaction– disgusted and repulsed. He would never want to see Matt's face again.

Matt couldn't ever tell him. It was such a big risk. The tiny chance Gus felt the same, or losing his only friend.

Maybe Matt should change that "tiny chance" to zero percent chance. Why would Gus like him?

Gus was confident, and pretty, and funny, and cool, and nice, and talented, and Matt was none of those things. The only thing he had going for him was his art, maybe his writing, but those traits were unknown to Gus anyways.

Sometimes, Matt wondered why Gus even bothered to hang out with him.

“Matt!” Steve called from downstairs, knocking Matt out of his thoughts. “Dinner!”

“Coming!” Matt yelled back, putting his pencil down and racing down the stairs.

He sat across the table from his brother, immediately eating his food.

“So, what did you and Gus do?” Steve asked.

“Just hung out. He asked me if I wanted to go to Grom with him and his friends.”

“Man, you should just ask him out already,” Steve suggested.

“No way! He'd be so grossed out. He'd never want to hang out with me again.”

“Matt, how long have you been crushing on this kid? Like ten months?”

“A year.”

“Right. An entire year. I know you're scared, but I think you should go for it. From what I've seen, he likes you back. Plus, he's way too nice to give up being your friend anyway.”

Matt frowned. “Augustus may be nice, but he's not going to stay friends with me for pity points. My stupid crush is gonna be the end of me!”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I'll never be able to convince you, will I?”

“Nope,” Matt smirked.

Steve sighed. “You are such a handful.”

~~~

The day of Grom came too fast. The queen was revealed to be Willow, and Luz and Amity were no doubt ecstatic to cheer for her.

Matt was in his room, fixing his hair. He was wearing white suit with a red shirt, and he spent way too much time doing his makeup, which was just red eyeshadow and black mascara. He just wanted to look perfect.

Knock knock knock.

Matt ran down the stairs to see Steve already talking to Gus. Gus was wearing a newer blue suit, which was paler in color and had the slightest hint of green.

“Hey Augustus,” Matt greeted.

“Matty! You look awesome! Are you ready to go?”

Matt blushed slightly. “Yeah. Let's go.”

Gus smiled, waving goodbye to Steve as he closed the door.

The two began walking towards the school. It was only a five minute walk from Matt’s to Hexide, so they didn’t even need their palismen.

“Your brother was telling me–” Gus began, but was cut off.

“Spare me my dignity and don’t tell me, will you?” Matt replied.

“Fair response, your brother always tells me the most embarrassing stuff about you.”

“I should start telling his girlfriend embarrassing things about him,” Mathholomule suggested. “See how he likes it.”

“His girlfriend? Why not his friends.”

Matt blushed, realizing what he just compared. “Um, I mean, because his girlfriend is really close with him and I’m really close with you– but not in a girlfriend way! Oh my titan, I’m sorry, I just–”

Matt screamed into his hands and he heard Gus giggle. “It’s fine dude, talking is like that sometimes.”

“This time it wasn’t talking, it was just me,” Matt complained. “I should learn how to not do that.”

“Hey Gus!” A shout was heard from above. Matt and Gus looked up to see Willow and Hunter flying to the school.

“Is that your boyfriend?” Hunter asked.

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Gus yelled back.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Willow said, flying closer to ground level.

“Wow, you are very calm, considering you’re about to battle Grom,” Matt commented, trying to change the subject.

“I think I’ve got it. I’ve conquered my fears before, I can probably do it again.” Willow shrugged, looking away.

She couldn’t do it again.

It wasn’t even fifteen minutes into Grom when Willow ran off screaming, a figure Matt couldn’t make out chasing her.

On a less terrifying note, the first fifteen minutes were okay. Actually, they were great. Hunter, Amity, and Luz spent their time cheering for Willow while Gus and Matt dramatically lip-synced to the music in the background. There was some teasing from Luz and Amity, but it wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to.

But getting shoved through a crowd and into the hole Grom came out of was something he wasn’t used to.

His screams as he fell were drowned out by the screams of everyone else.

When he hit the ground, stopped rolling, and looked up, he saw no light. There were dim orbs of light illuminating the caverns he had fallen into, but he still could barely see his feet.

Meanwhile, above the chaos, Gus was busy calling out for Matt.

He knew Matt had probably ran off with the crowd, but he was better safe than sorry.

When everyone was gone, he expected silence to be heard, but there was a faint sound coming from the caverns. Gus’s heart dropped as he dropped himself into the hole under the school.

In the darkness, Gus couldn’t see much, but he saw small parts of Grom swarming together in one spot far down the tunnel. Gus followed quickly after.

“Matty?” He called out, to no answer.

He heard faint whispers down the tunnel, and slowed down.

“Matt?”

The whispers got louder.

“Did you really think you could get away from me?” Gus heard a voice that resembled Bria’s ask.

Gus creeped down the hall, following where the voice had come from.

“I wish you were never born, I’ve lost my entire youth because I had to deal with you,” Steve was heard, louder than Bria had been. Another voice began to whisper, and Gus froze as his heart stopped.

That was his voice.

“You really thought I wanted to be friends with you?” It began, and Gus started running as fast as he could toward the sound. He peered over a corner to where he saw Grom, a form of Gus with a death grip on Matt’s head. Gus could see the tears running down Matt’s face through his closed eyes, completely helpless and alone. “You’re useless, I just kept you around for laughs. I never wanted to be your friend, nevermind your bo-”

Gus screamed and jumped at Grom. Maybe Gus wasn’t exactly strong or had practical magic for this type of situation, but his anger took a hold of him. He punched the fear bringer as much as he could before it slipped through the cracks of his fingers and formed itself next to him.

Matt was frozen, but Gus couldn’t pay attention right then. Luz had given him glyphs in case of this type of situation, so he folded a fire glyph in half and pointed it at Grometheus, who would morph into Adrian Graye if given the chance. But Gus wasn’t willing to give those chances.

“Augustus…” Matt whispered, but Gus couldn’t hear.

Gus opened more plant and fire glyphs, even though he knew he was starting to run low.

“AUGUSTUS!”

Matt pulled Gus out of the way of a giant arm flying through the air towards Gus, taking his hand and running. Gus threw some ice glyphs down the tunnel while Matt dragged him up the stairs and out of the pit.

The two sprinted out of the school and into the forest behind it. Matt created a little dome with magic to hide them from Grom.

Gus let out a sigh of relief and looked up to Matt, whose face was buried in his hands.

“Matty, are you okay?” Gus asked.

“No? I just watched all my worst fears come to life,” Matty responded, not daring to look up.

Gus slid over to him quietly, looking at the barren wall in front of them. “I’m sorry, Matt.”

“Thanks for helping me,” Matt mumbled. “I would still be down there if not for you.”

“Of course. You’re my friend.”

Gus heard Matt let out a sob, and take in a shaky breath.

“I mean it. No matter what Grom said. You’re my best friend.”

“Why?” Matt croaked.

That simple word pained Gus to his very soul. From the tone to the question, it wasn’t right. No one should have to ask that.

“Because you’re awesome,” Gus began. “Honestly, you’re so much more past surface level. You’re really smart when it comes to literature. I like how you talk a lot, and no matter what happens to you, you persevere. You’re always there when I need you and you’ll do anything for people you love. What more could I ask for?”

Matt looked at Gus with teary eyes and a soft smile. His mascara, and makeup and general, was ruined but Gus still thought he looked great. Matt choked and cried again, but this time of happy tears.

Gus pulled him in for a hug, and Matt dug his face into Gus’s shoulder.

“I’m so glad I have you,” Matt stated simply, and Gus felt his heart skip a beat.

“I’m glad I have you too,” Gus responded as Matt rose back from his shoulder, wiping his final tears away.

“Do you think Steve really hates me?” Matt asked, looking away.

“No,” Gus replied. “He was just talking about how proud he was of you when I knocked on your door. Though he did add a comment about it being a ‘date’.”

“Oh my gosh, he’s so embarrassing,” Matt groaned. “But I still love him.”

Gus smiled.

“I feel like I’m such a burden right now,” Matt half-joked. “To you and Steve. But I think I know you guys care for me a lot. Just tell me if I’m being too much.”

“You’re never too much,” Gus comforted. “You’re not a burden, and you’re right, I do care about you. A lot.”

Matt pulled away from the hug and leaned against the wall of the dome.

“Can I tell you something?” He asked.

“Yeah, what?” Gus asked.

“Well, before I say, I just want you to know that it’s okay if you… don’t want to be friends with me anymore. We had a good run.”

“What?” Gus questioned, voice cracking. Nothing would ever make him not want to be friends with Matt.

“I… kinda have a crush on you…”

Gus froze, processing the overload of information he had just received.

Matty? Like me? Oh titan, oh titan, oh titan, I’ve lost the ability to speak. Focus, Gus, focus!

“I’m so sorry,” Matt apologized.

“Don’t be,” Gus managed to say. “I think I like you too,” He lowered his head shyly, but kept looking at Matt.

Matt’s eyes grew wide as he looked at Gus. “Really? You’re not messing with me, right?”

“I’d never mess with you over something like this.”

Matt’s open mouth morphed into a smile and he hugged Gus.

“You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me,” Matt mumbled, and Gus melted.

“You too.”

[disco-girl]

dramatically saving each other from certain death or barely surviving something that almost makes the other break down and just smirking wearily and mumbling flippant smartass remarks to HIDE THE DEPTH OF THEIR FEELINGS

Or!

HEIGHT DIFFERENCES

Ty Killy! This took me a lot longer than intended. I hope it at least was somewhat worth the wait 🫣🫶

From this list of prompts

Matt blinked as the lights above him came into focus. He didn’t know where he was or what he was doing there. His mind felt fuzzy and his body felt achy. He tried moving but his limbs were heavy and uncooperative. When he opened his mouth to speak it was like sandpaper. He made sort of a strangled cry and winced at how pathetic it sounded.

“He’s awake!” A familiar hushed voice said. Matt tried to look toward the sound but it made him feel nauseous to even move his head just a little bit. He closed his eyes again and when he opened them Steve was standing over him. He was vaguely aware of somebody else in the room too.

“Hey little man, how are you feeling?”

Steve hadn’t used that nickname in a long time and it made Matt feel even more confused. His brother moved a hand to his head and gently pushed back his hair which was sticking to his forehead.

“Where am I?” Matt managed to get out.

“You’re at the healers. You don’t remember?”

Matt shook his head.

“You had an accident at work. It was pretty bad. You almost…” Steve paused, wiping a tear that was trailing down his face. “They didn’t know if you were gonna make it for a while.”

Oh.

“You had everybody worried about you, Matty.”

Despite his afflicted state, the younger witch’s ears perked up at that remark and he found himself buzzing with anticipation. Maybe somebody in particular had been thinking about him…

“Lilith has been worried sick. I told her it’s not her fault but she still blames herself anyway.”

Oh.

“And…” he gestured to the side, waving somebody over. “Augustus has been here this whole time keeping me company.”

Gus appeared next to Steve, shifting his weight nervously. He looked exhausted but he was still smiling.

“Anyway,” Steve said, “I’m gonna go grab something to eat and let the healers know you’re awake. You’ll keep an eye on him, right?” He asked Gus, winking in his direction.

“Yeah, of course.”

Steve left and they were alone now. An awkward silence hung between them.

“So, how do you feel?” Gus finally asked.

Matt shifted slightly so he could get a better look at the other, even though doing so was an effort.

“Tired. But I still probably don’t look as bad as you. Titan, have you been getting any sleep?”

Gus chuckled. “Not really.” He looked around the room which only had a couple of hard benches. “Not exactly the most comfortable sleeping arrangements”

It got quiet again and the younger witch’s face grew serious suddenly.

“You idiot. I was so scared. I thought—“ his voice cracked and he turned away but Matt could still tell that he was crying. “Don’t do that again.”

Matt reached out for his hand. It was cold in the room and Gus’ skin felt warm and comforting. “I won’t.”

Matt squeezed his hand and Gus squeezed back.

“Really though, you look like shit,” the constructionist said with a cheeky grin.

“You should look in a mirror,” Gus spat back without missing a beat.

“Hold on,” Matt said suddenly, and before Gus could stop him he was straining to get up.

“What are you doing?! You’re going to hurt yourself more.”

“I was trying to make space for you.” Matt winced, scooting over slightly and patting the spot next to him.

Normally they would both be nervous about physical contact like this but the events of the past few days and their exhaustion was clouding their judgment at the moment. Gus lay down without hesitation and wrapped his arm around Matt, resting his head in the crook of the other’s neck, and they both fell into a comfortable sleep.

[faith--in-the-future]

AFHF23 RECAP

thought I'd share my day for everyone (and future me).

so the alarm was at 6am bc my mom had to drive me to the train station to catch the 1st train of the day towards bologna so I woke up early and packed my giant backpack for the week (which I had to buy new bc my old one broke literally the day before rip) and then got on the train! then after 1h i arrived and switched train to get to Florence where me and @riverswater walked around and saw the city before catching yet another train to go to the city where our accommodation was and leave the bags. then we got ANOTHER train from there back to Viareggio and from there then we anxiously waited for the bus with other girls who were also going to the festival. the bus was late but it did arrive and the bus driver must have been driving ppl there the whole day bc he told us where to get off before we even asked him anything sjsj after 15min we FINALLY arrived at the venue 🥳🥳 (it was like 6.30pm lol) and there I met up with @tanktop-lou (trusted louis show companion) and @dahliaaz who I met for the first time irl !!

inside the festival ppl were mostly spread out bc there were only a few people already pressed at the front of the stage (those that had entered first) everyone else was sitting around in the grass or in the areas under the pine trees with the fairy lights and the hammocks! and there were LONG lines at the merch stand and food stands ahsh so it was a pretty chill atmosphere and when I got there there was a dj set by abbie (I think) who played mostly rock and indie hits that everyone knew so everyone was dancing and singing along! obviously everyone got up for mister brightside (white ppl anthem! skjs)

after that the cribs played their set and they were really good !! I liked their songs from the afhf Playlist already and they had a really good energy live and their sound was great! and they kept thanking louis which was very nice! check them out if you haven't!

we also saw lottie and lucky in the terrace bc they were right above us and it was so weird to see them irl like what?? they exist?? crazy ahah but she's really pretty (and short!) and lucky is so cuteee! we also saw Isaac Michael (he IS hot tbh) Oli (!!!) Matt and Chris (booo) and all the girlfriends or wives

then we saw the blossoms set which I also enjoyed although I think I enjoyed their music more from the album version lol but the guy was really trying to get the crowd going so A for effort sjdj I Also liked his 70s hair and look! he kept thanking the wrong city but that's OK skgkj

then ( ~9.20pm ) there was another dj set and at this point everyone was just ready to see louis tbh zjgkh by now the crowd was bigger and getting tighter and ppl were mostly standing. also it had gotten dark which made the place and the lights even prettier

then finally and with only 15min of delay (!!) the band started to take their places and the intro started and then FINALLY the guy we'd all been waiting for took the stage woooo !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (the build up in the intro is so good it really feels you with anticipation! great job steve!)

this year I hadn't been watching the lives for the months before the shows like last year bc it was all in north America so I didn't know the setlist by heart and I have to say it was fun to be surprised every time ! and to experience the live versions of these songs without having heard them many times before!! I really enjoyed that! plus he went a little crazy with the setlist so by the time he did Saturday so soon I was like ok lol ANYTHING can happen tonight skdjkd and it DID! Never in the world would I have expected PARADISE!! as soon as I recognized it I was like OH NO!! I should have listened to this more RIP! at least I knew the chorus skdjkd and it was really fun live !! really went well with the rest of the setlist which was FIRE🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻 probably my fav of the shows of his I've been to! all the songs were so high energy and the crowd around me was as well ! we all jumped and screamed most of the night and it was just so fun! and as always the music was so good like all the added drums and guitars in live arrangements are amazing !! my fave is probably OOMS live it's just SO GOOD from the bass intro to the drums it's just the best! also I'm happy I got to hear 7 again bc it's SUCH a good cover and even tho not everyone knew it (😒 embarrassing) I sang along the whole time sksk and he was obviously great at it! I'm also super happy that he kept BTY bc the new version is fantastic!!!! I LOVE the way he sings the first lines so much!!!!!! and it's great to sing you fuck me up you kill me !!!! all together lol let's all scream about that toxic person<333333 bonding experience! then there were also the heartfelt moments like walls which is always so beautiful especially bc live it becomes such a significant moment of pride and love we all experience together and with louis ♡♡♡ I love him sm. also copy is SO good live like it's just so perfect for that setting and is still one of his best songs tbh

louis was so alive and hyped up the whole time he was having the time of his life !!! you could see how happy and proud he was :'))) and he went down in the front even before the last songs !! it was really fun bc everyone got super squished to the side and the front every time lol (I'm sad he didn't go back enough where I was closer but it's okay shsh) anyways it was just great to see him like that especially bc this time I was close enough to actually be able to see him with my eyes the whole time without having to watch the screens like last time in Milan so it felt more "live" in a way to me , more real I guess. (I'd love to be at the very front one day but I don't have the energy for that quest 😭)

it was extremely hot the whole time (louis would have been less hot if he wore shorts but ok!!!) and ngl the crowd was SMELLY by 10pm but it was so good it didn't even matter lol

the set ended at around 11.45 I think? and then we all sang along to we are the champions which was another prideful moment <3

and then me and rhei made our way back to our bus where unfortunately a bunch of dumb fans also were lol but in the end we made it home by 1am and finally went to bed at 2am with sore throats, music ringing in our ears and hearts full!

10/10 would do it all again!

[missvelvetsstuff]

Guarded Heart

Bucky Barnes x Reader

MobAu

Summary: Y/N is the daughter of a powerful mob boss who only cares about her horses and making it to the Olympics but her father expects her to marry an equally powerful boss to help strengthen his business. Bucky is looking for a wife to help his business and give him an heir but already has a long term girlfriend, Natasha.

Chapter 16

Warnings: swearing, angst

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As all the guests were arriving at the Barnes townhouse, Y/N held court in George's office. First speaking to Wanda and Pietro when they arrived. Steve and Sam helped him up the stairs. He had been shot in the thigh but was expected to make a full recovery. His doctors weren't pleased that he insisted on checking himself out of the hospital but there was nothing they could do.

They also spoke with Loki and George separately. She was trying to get a bead on where everyones heads were to help work out what comes next.

When the food arrived, Y/N sat at one end of the Barnes formal dining room table, Pietro to her right and Wanda to her left. At the other end is George Barnes with Bucky on his right, Steve on his left and Sam next to Steve. Filling the rest of the seats are Tony Stark with Happy and Rhodey, plus Loki, Hela, Val and Heimdal. Yelena was still in bad shape but insisted on being there. Attorney Matt Murdock sat quietly observing and taking notes.

While everyone ate the conversation was casual, catching up with associates that hadn't been together in a non violent situation in a long while. It was a bit stilted since everyone had the coming discussion in mind, trying to figure out how to keep their advantages while working with former rivals.

Once the dessert, brandy and coffee had been served George spoke up.

"I want to thank everyone here for coming tonight and more importantly for your help in the mess that Pierce and Dreykov created. We are stronger when we work together and keeping that in mind I am proposing new alliances to strengthen the old ones."

He looked at his son, then to Y/N, who nodded subtly.

"Right. I want to announce the merging of the Barnes and Y/L/N families. Y/N and my son James will marry in one month."

George watched his son as he made the announcement and Bucky went from surprised to delighted to confused.

Tony protested "Wait a damn minute, George. You expect her to honor her agreement after everything that has happened and the reality that your son shares a good portion of the blame for everything she's lost?

I don't know if I can allow that to happen."

Y/N kept her feelings closer to the vest, revealing nothing. She was still wary about trusting Bucky but she wasn't prepared to handle her fathers entire empire on her own and she trusted George. She also felt she could trust Steve in a pinch.

"Tony, Tony" she tried to stop him. When he looked at her he saw the resolve in her eyes "I know you're trying to look out for me but I already agreed to move forward with the marriage. I can't, I don't want to do this alone. I would much rather be spending time with my horses than all this mess. Bucky can run the business so that I'm only needed occasionally."

Tony shook his head "But what about-"

She smiled softly at him. "I've looked at all the angles and this is the least disagreeable way to keep the business going and have a little bit of a life separate from it. It'll be ok. I'll be ok" she said firmly.

Loki looked at her, concerned. He knew Thor's death hit her harder than she was willing to admit. When she returned his gaze he raised his eyebrows in question, was this really what she wanted to do? "Y/N? Are you sure about this, love? Heimdal and I would be happy to help you until you are ready to stand on your own."

Y/N smiled at Loki "I know and your friendship means the world to me but you've lost important members of your family because of me. I couldn't ask for anything else from you."

Loki shook his head "You didn't ask, I'm offering"

"I know but I also know you have some reorganizing to do yourself. Don't worry, I'll call if I need you. I promise."

Loki sighed "Very well but if I find out you're having trouble and you don't call me, we're going to have a problem"

She nodded in response.

Bucky finally remembered how to talk and had to throw in his 2 cents. "Wait, I never agreed to anything."

Y/N smirked at him "Of course you did. We both signed a contract that included marriage. I know everything has been chaotic but it hasn't been that long. We might need to tweak it a bit but it's still binding. Unless you aren't a man of your word" she looked at him with her eyebrow raised, questioning.

Bucky stuttered under her gaze "N-N-No! I am a man of my w-word. I just, you, but we-" he stopped to take a breath and gather his thoughts. "We need to speak privately. After this meeting." And sat back, arms crossed, face stoic except for the slight up turn at the corners of his mouth and a twinkle in his eyes.

Y/N nodded "Good. Now, Loki has agreed to take Yelena in on a probationary basis, once she's fully healed of course. She risked her life to give us information on Dreykovs plans which helped us take him down so we believe she deserves a chance. One chance" she looked at Yelena seriously, who nodded in response.

"Now, about dividing Pierce's territory...."

They spent 5 hours at that table, arguing over who would control what as the available territory was divided. Finally in the wee hours of the night an agreement was reached. No one was really happy but that's how compromises usually work.

Y/N was starting to feel the strain of being up for so long. She was still recovering from the loss of her arm and the grief from losing Thor was trying to push past the walls she had built up in recent days.

Bucky noticed that she was wobbling, straining to hold herself up at the table and he spoke up

"I think we need to call it a night." He glanced at his watch "It's past 3am and none of us have slept much in the last few days."

Everyone nodded and grumbled but Loki had one more concern "Does anyone know what happened to Zemo?"

Y/N roused for a moment "You guys lost Zemo?" She shivered "But he's vile. Might come after me, he never got over being dumped. I-"

Bucky shook his head "We will get him and Y/N, I promise I will keep you safe."

Everyone said their goodbyes and made to leave as Bucky helped Y/N upstairs. She was almost falling asleep as they walked up the stairs. He helped her get comfortable in his bed and tucked her in, kissed her on the forehead and whispered. "I promise I'll keep you safe."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three days later. Y/N still hadn't had a talk with Bucky. Every time he was around she went to his bedroom and locked the door, refusing to even acknowledge anyone who tried to speak with her.

Y/N had barely left Bucky's bedroom, leaving him with the lumpy fold out sofa in the den. She slept most of the time or would just lay there staring at the ceiling. Even her mother couldn't get her to eat much.

Today she had to get up. Today was Thor's funeral. The thought of it made her feel sick and she couldn't keep anything down at all that day.

She just went through the motions. Dressed up in a black dress with a matching veiled hat and black pumps she looked in the mirror and told herself. She could do this, she tried to convince the tired woman who she barely recognized.

The cemetery was crowded with cars, mostly black SUV's. There were so many people Y/N felt lost, gripping her mother's arm tightly. She was still unable to process the grief, the ache from losing Thor too fresh in her mind.

Bucky came up to her other side and gently rested his hand on her back, relieved that she didn't shrug him off this time. He guided them towards the grave site and was relieved when he saw Loki speaking quietly with his sister, Hela.

Loki saw them coming and excused himself from Hela to greet Y/N. "Y/N? Love? Are you alright?" He pulled her into his arms but she stood their stiffly, not returning his hug.

He pulled back to look at her face and she nodded woodenly, whispering "I'm fine" as tears welled up in her eyes.

Loki led her to the front row of seats and sat her down next to him, her mother and Bucky on her other side.

Bucky sat next to Y/N for the service, holding her flesh hand with his vibranium one. When the casket was being lowered she squeezed his hand and he gently returned it, so she knew he was there.

Her shoulders were shaking with the sobs she was trying to hold in but it all became too much and she couldn't anymore. Loud, gut wrenching sobs broke through and she couldn't stop them.

Y/N felt like her heart had been ripped from her chest and there was nothing left but emptiness. Thor had been by her side for years, starting as her trainer then friend then blossoming into something neither one of them wanted to deny, even though they knew the risks. No one knew her like he had and that loss felt like more than she could bear after everything else.

Y/N collapsed next to Thor's grave "N-n-no, I c-can't leave him here. It's t-too cold in the ground. Please don't make me leave him alone. I can't." She looked up at Bucky as he sat on the ground next to her "please, Jamie. Don't make me" she fainted and fell into his arms.

Chapter 17

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