#steve thinks its funny that eddie is so whipped

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Steve and Eddie dating was really the best thing for the members of Hellfire because they discovered that they could get Eddie to do anything by convincing Steve to make this face (Wayne eventually catches on too) :

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 10

part 1 | part 9 | ao3

cw: recreational drinking

When they get to Eddie’s trailer, Steve’s mom is sitting on the couch, eyes unblinking as she watches the TV.

There’s just static on the screen.

“Steve?” she slurs when she finally realizes they’re there. Sways a little when she stands. There’s a dreamy quality to her voice, a blank look on her tired face: agreeable but distant, a smudge of campfire smoke curling far over the trees.

Double-dosed her pills again. Jesus Christ.

“Oh, Stevie, baby, it was just awful.” She reaches out for him, and he wishes he could find comfort in the way she cups his elbows with delicate hands. Wishes he could lean into her touch and offer comfort in return, but her tone is so dull and mild that bile rises in his throat. Chemical calm bullshit, and Steve has had enough.

“Ma, just…” he sighs, shrugging her off. Scrubs a hand over his face. Too young and too old for this. “Just go home, okay?” The street is quiet again, all the neighbors tucked back in their houses now that the show has run its course. He doesn’t think anyone will notice her stumbling across the road. “Get some rest. I’ll be over in a bit.”

“Sure, baby.” He leads her to the door, and she turns there on the threshold, eyes glassy and unfocused; looks through him like he’s a ghost. Then her gaze shifts around the room — the hats, the mugs, the clutter; the lived-in explosion of color that Steve’s annoyed he likes so much — like she’s just seeing it all for the first time, and absently, she murmurs, “This place is dreadful, isn’t it?”

“Mom.”

“Hmm?” she asks, but she’s already drifting out the door.

Steve’s face is on fire. He stands there for a moment, just staring dumbly out into the dark. What the hell is wrong with her??

Behind him, Eddie snorts. "Oh, she’s on the good shit, huh?”

Steve whips his head around. Eddie’s eyes are full of mirth, his dimple peeking out, and it startles a laugh out of Steve. He thinks maybe he’d take offense if he weren't so busy being mortified.

But also, like.

It is a little funny.

Or maybe it’s so unfunny that it circles back around.

“Jesus, man,” he huffs, “Sorry. I don’t— I don’t know why she…”

“S’fine,” Eddie says with a casual flick of his wrist. Seems like he means it. He rocks back on his heels, hands in his back pockets, just sort of eyeing Steve up. Assessing. Running his tongue over his lips. They're big, for a guy's. “…You want a beer?”

“Fuck.” That sounds so nice. “Yeah. Please.”

“Have a seat.”

Steve takes the offer when Eddie nods at the couch, too tired to do the whole song and dance of ‘oh heavens no, I couldn’t possibly impose.’ Who’s got the energy for that?

The couch is old. His skull thuds against the un-cushioned back when he sinks down into it, but he’s too tired to care. Worn out as the lumpy springs under his ass, the frayed fabric beneath his arm. A wave of exhaustion rattles his bones, reverberates in his teeth. He thinks he could sleep for sixteen years.

Eddie clears his throat when he comes back with the beers, a sudden cautiousness about him as he hands Steve an unopened can like Steve might claw him in return.

"Sit down," Steve rolls his eyes. "I'm not gonna bite."

Eddie makes a strangled noise. The springs bounce as he plops onto the seat beside Steve, sitting sideways with one leg up on the couch between them, his arm resting on the back. "So, ah...." He gives a wavering chuckle; pulls a lock of hair across his face to hide himself. "Is this the part where I formally apologize for trying to knife you?"

Ugh. No the fuck it isn't. Steve’s too drained for it, absolutely at capacity for more serious shit this evening, thanks; and besides that, it was...

Whatever. It's old news.

Instead of giving a real answer he reaches into his pocket, snicks his own knife open and pretends to brandish it at Eddie, asking, "Eye for an eye?"

Eddie's eyes go huge. "Dude, what the fuck??"

"Just fucking with you," Steve laughs, lifting the can up to his mouth. "But there; now we're even. Shoulda seen your face."

“Ah—!” Eddie’s jaw drops in offense. “Ex-cuse you!”

God, of course he’s more dramatic than all the kids combined.

Steve jabs the knife into his beer, pops the top and starts to chug, throat working as he gulps the whole thing down in four big sips. It tastes like frothy, bitter piss, but it's cold and it soothes the scratch in his throat.

Eddie lets out a low whistle. "Well, goddamn, Harrington."

"Is that supposed to impress me?" "You're not?"

Steve grins and wipes his mouth.

—

They get drunk pretty fast (Eddie refused to be upstaged in his own house, so one shot-gunned beer became two became four), and somewhere along the line the conversations get weird; hilarious and dumb. Saying shit just to say it, chipping away at the ice wall between them with bare fingernails.

Eddie hollers some shit like: "What are you even talking about?" and his arms fling out wide, almost spilling his beer. "The deep sea is so much scarier than the mountains!"

"Are you joking?" Steve throws back. "The mountains have, like, giant cats and shit! Birds of prey with wingspans the size of your van."

"Yeah, and the deep sea has eldritch monsters that live in volcano vents and hunt with no eyes and eat their young for fun or whatever the fuck. You ever heard of an anglerfish? Or a phantom anglerfish? Tell me that shit isn't right out of a Lovecraft story."

"A what story?"

"How am I the one who hasn’t graduated yet?"

Then later:

“Dude, Batman? Seriously?”

“He’s the world’s greatest detective!”

“He’s a greasy little weirdo. You only like him because of your whole…” Steve gestures at his tattoos.

“Whatever, Spiderfan.”

And later still:

"Okay, okay, okay. Fuck, marry, kill... Shit. Y’know this would really be easier in a town where so many people hadn’t died."

Steve grimaces at himself; expects Eddie to call him out. It’s too insensitive, too soon.

Eddie just cracks a grin and suggests, "Fuck, marry, revive?"

—

They talk for a long time. Eddie's kind of charming when he's not being a dick. A nice smile, deep laugh lines. Steve can almost see why the kids are so obsessed with him. He's never met someone so animated; feels like he's talking to a Saturday morning cartoon. The conversation mellows out after a while, and he doesn't realize he's dozed off until Eddie shakes him awake.

"Hey, man," he says, voice just above a whisper. "I'm going to bed. You're welcome to crash on the couch, but, uh,” he scratches the back of his neck, “I mean, your back is probably gonna hate you for it."

Steve rubs his fists against his eyelids and blinks himself awake. Feels jittery and weird, yanked out of the start of a bad dream. When he looks up he sees that he’s got his shoes up on the couch; and there’s dried drool on his chin, and all at once he feels embarrassed, off-balance and panicked like he missed the last step down a steep flight of stairs. Of course he's overstayed his welcome. He's being fucking rude. "My bad," he mutters as he jumps up off the couch. Stands up way too fast, makes his vision tilt and swirl. "I'll get out of your hair."

Eddie reaches for his arm. "Dude,” he says, “you're fine. You can stay if you want.”

Steve moves out of his hold. “Nah, get some sleep; I’ll see ya around.”

Eddie frowns at him, a little furrow between his brows, and somehow Steve feels like he’s in the wrong, like Eddie isn’t the one who just kicked him out.

Like maybe Steve’s just running away for a second time in one night. Always back and away, this guy.

Who's the fucking coward now?

—

part 11

y'all know the drill, tagging whoever commented on yesterday's installment provided your tumblr settings let me <;3 @thealwithnoname @violetsteve @manda-panda-monium @stuftzombie @bronwenmarie @aliea82 @slowandsteddie @acedorerryn @anne-bennett-cosplayer @ahsokatanoss @steveshairspray @hallucinatedjosten @estrellami-1 @ppunkpuppyy @stevesbipanic @silver-snaffles @yourmom-isgay @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @zombiecreatures @im-a-disgrace-to-humanity @faery-god @hotluncheddie @runninriot @a-little-unsteddie @teatimeeverybody @newtstabber @pearynice @hellion-child @cuips-not-cute @steddieas-shegoes @steves-strapcollection @loguine-linguine @griefabyss69

[sarcasticassian]

Corroded Coffin’s label want them to do a Christmas song, Chrissy (their manager) tells them over and over that it’s not gonna fly, it’s really not the band’s brand and who is even asking for a Christmas song off them but due to the recent mainstream success of the band the label is not backing down so Chrissy tells the guys what the situation is thinking she’s going to have to deal with an unhappy label and unhappy talent, she immediately lets them know that she’ll try and negotiate a cover or something that they can whip up in no time and then forget about 

but they all surprise her, Eddie the most, Jeff just had a kid with his wife and he’s in good spirits, Grant is married and Gareth has a long term girlfriend so she can maybe understand their tolerance for Christmas but Eddie? Mr anti establishment and hates all things capitalistic etc etc, he LOVES Christmas apparently, he says its about the spirit, people’s giving nature etc also he loves watching people get into physical fights over presents and families tearing into each other over the holidays, it’s kinda funny as an outsider and as someone who has one other family member 

so they put their heads together and even out do what she’s asking by giving her two original songs and a couple of covers, enough for an EP, the label is ecstatic and Chrissy is flabbergasted, the only hitch is that before they record properly Eddie needs a choir of kids (why, Eddie? it’s part of the Christmas spirit Chris, so many songs have them as well, why can’t ours) so to make it interesting the label makes it a competition for local school choirs and a certain Miss Buckley decides to send in a tape because why not right?

except Eddie loves them, the tape doesn’t cut off in time to miss a snarky comment from the kid at the front with the curly hair and the redhead next to him rolls her eyes so hard Eddie is pretty sure she can see the back of her head and he’s charmed, they sound good too so he begs the band to pick them and the other guys really aren’t as invested in this so they say go for it

Robin is over the moon that her choir got chosen, she’s a music teacher at a local middle school where her bestie also teaches history and is beloved by all children apparently, and it helps that the prize is tickets to a Christmas concert Corroded Coffin will be a part of for all the kids so she tells them that world famous band Corroded Coffin is coming to their school to record them for a new song and they go nuts as a bunch of 14 year olds would, Steve is happy for her even though he has no idea who these people are and doesn’t bother looking them up cause what kinda band comes to a random school for a recording of their song

Eddie LOVES the kids when he arrives, they’re delightfully bitchy but obedient enough or respect Robin enough that they listen to both her and him all day and they sound great, he enjoys them so much in fact that he asks if they’d all want to be in the music video, Steve is out sick that day much to everybody’s dismay but once the video shoot is all worked out they need another teacher for health and safety etc so he volunteers to go (not that Robin would’ve given him a choice) and he sees Eddie covered in flakes of fake snow, surrounded by this soft halo of light and is like oh dear when his heart starts pumping double time

Eddie thinks this teacher is a total cutie and all the kids seem to love him, clamouring to point out cool things on set or show him their costumes or just chat to him about their other weekend plans and Eddie is a little smitten, the shoot goes on and the song is about being lonely at Christmas, the other guys’ partners are involved and the original idea was for Eddie to remain alone to really drive in the point (who doesn’t love a sad Christmas song, of course Eddie would write something against the grain) but the label has a sudden change of heart and wants the video to end with Eddie finding someone and Chrissy seizes her chance to play matchmaker so she suggests Steve fills in if he wants before Eddie can protest

Steve is a slightly confused about why they’d pick him until Eddie blurts out that he’s gay and out etc so a guy would make more sense to their fans so Steve, caught up in the moment, says sure why not, and half falls in love with Eddie under the fake snowfall and horribly bright set lights, he knows it’s an act but Eddie is very charming (Eddie isn’t acting) and all their actual audio will be cut because of the song playing over the top so Steve just enjoys himself

when the song and video goes live fans lose it, who is this cute, cute man that Eddie has bagged, it must be his boyfriend right because everybody else’s partner is in the video and Eddie has to quickly clarify that he just met Steve that day but nobody believes him, ‘the chemistry is too good’ so Eddie manages to reach out to Steve and apologise and Steve decides to joke that Eddie should take him for a drink to make up for it but Eddie immediately agrees and that’s how Steve finds himself on a date with a rockstar

(his class go wild after Christmas break and they hear from Miss Buckley about Mr Harrington’s new boyfriend)

(they go wilder when Steve spills in return that Robin has been seeing Chrissy-the-band-manager since the recording at the school back in October)

[fiveraccoonsinatrenchcoat]

Quiet My Fears (With The Touch Of Your Hand) Ch. 3

Steve Harrington x f!reader

Description: Dramatic reveals are revealed, dramatically (or, you and Steve tell the gang about Baby Harrington and it does not go well).

Warnings: language, food mentions, everyone is angry all of the time

Word Count: 7965

Previous Chapter! - Next Chapter!

My Masterlist! - Series Masterlist!

Notes: I'm so sorry this took as long as it did! I've been going through it lately but through the power of boygenius I was actually able to finish this bit the other day! Please enjoy and also no one is allowed to be mad at me lol

Steve Harrington was going to be a dad.

The funny thing that came along with that was that Steve was actually going to have to tell people.

He imagined that there were many couples who would be very excited about this prospect. There were lots of young men out there who had mothers begging them for grandchildren. His hadn’t quite gotten there yet.

You had told him that you wanted to put off telling people for as long as you could. He entirely understood why; times had changed quite a bit since his mother’s day, but still, being an unwed mother in Smalltown, USA was relatively frowned upon. Honestly, considering just how gossipy the population of Hawkins tended to be, Steve was surprised the front desk ladies at your doctor’s office hadn’t already spread the news like wildfire, HIPAA be damned; golden boy Steve Harrington and his childhood best friend, having a baby out of wedlock? That was some front page stuff, right there. 

Married or not, though, it was going to have to happen sooner rather than later. In a few weeks time, it was going to start getting very difficult to hide. You were going to begin showing any moment now, and as Spring started to settle in, it brought its warmer temperatures with it. You could only hide behind your winter coat and thick sweaters for so long. 

And not just your bump; your friends were beginning to pick up on the fact that there was something going on.

“Steve!” Robin barked before tossing a wadded up ball of old receipts at him. It hit him square between the eyebrows. “Stop moping and do your job, please?”

“I’m not moping,” Steve defended (he absolutely was), before turning back to the pile of returns he was supposed to be sorting through.

“Fuck off, yeah you are,” Eddie very helpfully added.

“See, this is why I don’t like it when you hang around here,” Steve said, pointing a pen toward Eddie. “You two always gang up on me!”

“Why do you think I’m here at all?” Eddie quipped back with a smirk. 

“Because you don’t have anywhere better to go?” Robin supplied.

“That, too.”

“Either way, I’m not moping,” Steve assured. “I’m fine.”

“That’s a fucking lie if I’ve ever heard one,” Eddie said over the click of the markdown gun, as he emptied its bright orange stickers down that back of his arm. Steve couldn’t help but notice that he had set the price to ‘WAS $4.20, NOW $0.69’.

“Stop that,” Robin huffed as she whipped the tool out of Eddie’s hands. “Steve, I can practically see the rain cloud floating over your head.”

“Oh, my god!” Steve didn’t really want to snap at his friends, but he did it anyway. “Nothing is wrong! I am fine, everything is fine!”

Eddie and Robin just stared at Steve like a pair of deer in headlights from across the counter. They both knew how easily frustrated Steve could become, and they’d be the first to admit that sometimes they can poke at him a bit too hard, but an outburst this quickly had been unexpected. Neither said anything, and Steve just sighed.

After a moment of awkward silence, Eddie spoke up once again. 

“Lady problems?”

“Get out!” both Steve and Robin exclaimed, in unison.

“I thought you guys liked me.” Eddie feigned offense.

“You do not work here!” Robin said as she grabbed onto his shoulders and shoved him toward the door. “And Keith’ll get pissed if he finds out you were here and didn’t spend any money, so go home.”

“Fine,” Eddie relented from the entryway. “Hey, I’ll see you guys on Saturday, right?”

“Of course!”

“Probably not.”

“You claim nothing is wrong,” Eddie said, pointing to Steve. “And yet, in the same breath, turn down free beer?”

“Leave!”

“I love you both!”

The bell above the door rang as Eddie walked out, and Steve was left in Robin’s concerned gaze. 

“Y’know, Eddie does kind of have a point,” Robin said after a moment. Nine times out of ten, Robin was able to coax Steve out of his quiet and get him to talk about whatever it was that was eating at him, a fact that Steve was highly aware of. 

“No, he doesn’t,” Steve barked back. If this conversation didn’t end in the next two minutes, he would jump off the roof. 

“You haven’t hung out with any of us in weeks!” Robin exclaimed “Weeks, Steve!”

“I’ve been busy,” Steve lied.

“Busy with what?” she inquired. “Do you have another job I don’t know about, or something?”

“I’m allowed to do things without you around. You know that, right?” It was meaner than he needed to be.

“Oh, god, this isn’t about your lover, is it?” Robin drawled with a scowl.

“You know her name, and you don’t have to say it like that,” Steve responded.

“You two got back together, didn’t you?”

She hadn’t quite gotten it head on, but it was probably as close as she was going to get.

“I knew it!” Robin looked like she was going to explode. “I fucking knew it!”

“Please don’t turn this into a thing,” Steve pleaded.

“Me turn it into a thing?!” She was mad now. “You two are the ones turning it into a thing! You cannot keep sneaking around like this, it cannot possibly be healthy!”

“We’re-” Steve huffed out a breath. This tightrope he was walking across seemed to be growing more and more thin. “Working on it.”

“Can you work on it a little bit faster, please?” Robin asked as she punched out. “You two are so fucking weird about each other. Split, or make it official, just do something, because I hate having to keep this secret for you, it’s exhausting!”

“We sort of already did. I think,” Steve confided. Partial truth is better than no truth, right?

“Split?”

“Make it official.”

“Oh, thank god,” Robin sighed, tossing herself across the counter, all dramatics. “I can finally quit having to cover for you.”

“Don’t say anything yet.” Steve was quick with his damage control. “We, uh, we wanna do it. Ourselves. Figure it’ll probably go over a little bit smoother that way, y’know?”

“Fine, but if you don’t tell everyone soon, I’m going to,” Robin said. “Don’t think I’m the only one who’s noticed something off with you lately.”

“What? What does that mean?”

“Everyone is worried about you, Steve,  it’s not just me,” she explained. “Dustin was about two seconds away from showing up at your house after you bailed on us last week.”

Steve didn’t know that. It sent a lightning bolt of regret through his chest.

“The faster you two can get your shit together, the better. I’ve been happily cleaning up this mess for you, but I’m starting to get fucking tired of it, Steve.” Robin looked at her watch. “I was off ten minutes ago.”

She was out the door before Steve could even think up an apology.

Steve and Robin didn’t get into fights often, but he absolutely hated it every time they did. Even silly little arguments left him wracked with guilt sometimes, but proper, go-for-the-throat type fights made feel sick. 

Pair that with the fact that he was making Dustin worry, and Steve felt about ready to hurl. 

God, this was difficult. Stupidly difficult. Maybe, if he asked nicely, you’d agree to just run away with him so he didn’t have to deal with any of it. 

If he could just pluck up the courage to tell his parents, that would at least be a start. They were the difficult ones, the conversation he was dreading more than any of them, and the wild anxiety ate away at him for the rest of his shift. By the time seven o’clock rolled around and he was finally able to go home, it was entirely all-encompassing.

Fuck it. It had to get done either way, right?

The drive from Family Video to his parents house, no longer than ten minutes, felt as though it stretched across half an eternity. The vicious anxiety ate away at his stomach as he drove, and with each turn, each mile crossed, it only increased. Maybe he should just turn around. Maybe he should go home to you, and his parents could just figure it out on their own. He was sure his dad would love that.

Steve pulled into the driveway and was very close to losing what little nerve he had. He turned off the ignition, this is a bad idea. He got out of the car, this is a bad idea. He walked up to the front door and let himself in, this is a bad idea.  

He could hear the commotion of his mother making dinner in the kitchen. Something was sizzling; popping and crackling with the smell of onions and garlic, of bell peppers and roasting meat. 

Steve had lots of reasons to be jealous of other peoples’ parents, but at least his knew how to cook.

“Steve!” his mother exclaimed once he walked into her view. One hand was occupied by a wooden spoon stirring a pan of vegetables, the other holding a frosty glass of white wine. “I didn’t know whether or not to expect you.”

“You barely even live here anymore,” his father chided from where he was sitting at the counter. His suit coat was off and he had a matching wine glass sitting on the table in front of him. Nine times out of ten, Steve’s parents were able to be amicable with one another. At this point, they acted more like roommates than husband and wife, but at least they were roommates that were able to stand being in the same room as one another. Usually. “Didn’t think I’d get to see you before I left.”

“Sit down! Have a drink,” his mother insisted. She pulled another wine glass out of the cabinet and the bottle out of the fridge. 

“Oh, no, I’m alright,” Steve said as he sat down. His mother poured him the glass anyway.

He was about to ruin a perfectly good dinner, Steve thought to himself. His mother probably poured over it all day. The roast that just got pulled out of the oven was probably expensive. 

“So, what’s been going on with Steve these days?” his father asked him. 

Now or never.

“I actually wanted to, uh,” Steve stuttered out. “I wanted to talk to you guys.”

“You didn’t crash your car, did you?” his father said, only half joking.

“No, the car’s fine.”

“Is this about that girl?” his mother asked as she turned the stove down to low, mischief painting her voice.

“Girl? What girl?” His father pointed his gaze over to Meredith. 

“He met a girl,” she responded. She seemed almost giddy with excitement.

“Finally,” his father said. He said it like it was a joke, though it didn’t feel all that well meaning to Steve. 

“Oh, tell me it’s Giada’s daughter from down the street,” his mother said. “Have you seen their kitchen? I’d never have to host another Thanksgiving ever again.”

“No, it’s not- no.” Steve wasn’t even sure he knew who Giada was, let alone her daughter. 

“Well, at least give us a name, Steve,” his mother said. “Is she cute?”

When Steve said your name, he felt almost like he was condemning you. Like just uttering it strapped you to him, so now you’d both be falling from grace. 

“The one who grew up across the street?” his father asked, as if you hadn’t known him your whole life.

“Oh, that’s just too sweet!,” his mother exclaimed. “It’s like a movie, ugh! I’ll have to give her mother a call, she’s going to be thrilled!”

Good luck with that, Steve thought to himself. She won’t even answer the calls from her own daughter.  

“Took you long enough,” his father said, leaning back in his barstool, lackadaisical. 

“What?” Steve responded. He was wildly unimpressed by his father’s haughty attitude.

“You two have been making googly eyes at each other since you were eight,” he explained. “Frankly, I didn’t think you had the balls to do anything about it.”

“Ron,” his mother chastised at the choice of words.

“What? Obviously, I was wrong.” Ron pointed his gaze back to his son. “Y’know, I think she could be a good influence on you. Steady job, good work ethic. She’s a bit of an oddball, though, but I guess with a father like her’s, could you really blame her?”

Leave it to Ronald Harrington to judge other peoples’ parenting skills while simultaneously insulting his son’s girlfriend. 

“Don’t be rude,” Meredith said. Her back was now turned to the two men, arms elbow deep in the sink. “Such a shame her parents moved away, though. I couldn’t imagine going that far without bringing your daughter with you. Is she still living on the south side?”

“Yep.”

“That’s not the safest area in town,” she commented. “Did you hear about that house fire down that way? The woman on the news said that it might have been arson. Arson!” 

“It’s alright,” he placated. “Not as bad as it used to be, at least.” 

“I still don’t know if I like the idea of a girl like her living all by herself in an area like that,” she said. 

“You’ll have to invite her over for dinner once I get back,” his father said, entirely oblivious to the topic of conversation between his wife and son.

There was a moment of silence between the three of them. His mom took a sip of her wine and stuck the meat with a cooking thermometer, his dad refilled his own glass, and Steve felt his stomach do a backflip. This was going poorly.

“If there’s something else you have to tell us, you might as well just rip the bandaid off quick.” His father hit the nail on the head, that was for sure. He paused for a moment before making the kind of poorly timed, borderline insulting joke only someone like his father could. 

“God, she’s not pregnant, is she?”

Steve went rigid, and he kept his gaze trained on the swirls in the marble countertop. He didn’t say anything, he couldn’t bring himself to, so he just left his parents to piece his silence together on their own.

“Steve,” his mother demanded. She had a carving fork gripped tight in her white knuckled fist, planted hard against the edge of the countertop. Steve was pretty sure she was about to stab him with it. He couldn’t look either of them in the eye.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to squeak out. He could feel tears beginning to well up in his eyes. 

“Goddamn it, Steven!” his father exclaimed, slamming his hand onto the counter. It made the glasses rattle. “This has to be some kind of joke!”

“I’m sorry!” Steve said, louder this time. “Fuck, I didn’t-”

“Didn’t what?” his father asked. “You didn’t mean to? You didn’t think it would actually happen?”

“I don’t know,” Steve responded. He suddenly felt very small, confronted by his father’s booming voice.

His mother stood silent in her spot on the opposite side of the kitchen island, but there were definitely tears running down her cheeks, and anger radiating off of her in horrible waves that Steve wasn’t used to. 

“No, you don’t, because you weren’t thinking at all, were you?” His father fumed. He was standing now, towering over Steve despite the fact that the two of them were almost the same in height. “For Christ’s sake, Steven!”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ll have to marry her-”

“We already talked about that. She said she wants to wait,” Steve explained quickly.

“No. No, this is not a question of want, Steven. I don’t care about what you want, you’ve forfeited that right! You both have!” his father spat back. 

“I’m not gonna force her to marry me against her will, dad, I’m not evil!” He shouldn’t have said it that way, he knew that. But god, he was mad, and a low blow like that was just as satisfying as he thought it would be. 

At least this hadn’t happened when he was 16. He would have been well and truly fucked if this had happened when he was 16. 

“You know what? Maybe this is just the thing you need,” his father snapped.

“What?” Steve asked, confused.

“A big mistake for you to finally learn a thing or two.”

Steve wasn’t particularly fond of his father’s use of the word ‘mistake’.

“I leave for Santa Monica tomorrow morning. I’ll be back in a week,” his father stated. “I want you out of my house before then.”

“Ronald,” Meredith broke her silence, exclaiming from behind the tears. Steve knew she wouldn’t explode the way his father was doing, but she really looked like she wanted to.

“No! We have been defending him and making excuses for years, Meredith. Years! If he wants to go play house with his little girlfriend, that’s fine by me, but he’s not gonna do it under my roof.” He doubled down and turned his gaze back to where Steve was sitting. “I think it's a damn good time for him to learn that his actions come with consequences.”

The older man turned away at that and pulled his keys off of the hook on the wall.

“Where are you going?” Meredith called after him. He didn’t bother with an answer, only walked out and slammed the door behind him. 

Steve was left alone with his mother, which was simultaneously much better and far worse. 

“We were already planning for me to move in with her,” Steve said. If his father had stuck around for a minute longer, he would have been able to explain that to him, too. “She needed a roommate anyway.”

His mother scoffed and shook her head.

“Look, I know that-”

“You make it incredibly difficult for me to be on your side sometimes, Steven,” his mother interrupted.

“I know,” Steve agreed. He did know. 

“I wish I could say that I thought your father was being irrational, but I don’t know if I can,” she sighed. “For once, I think he and I might be on the same page.”

“You are?” Steve asked. His father’s vitriolic anger hadn’t come as a surprise, he’d been expecting it, but he thought his mother would be at least a little bit understanding. She always had been before. Steve guessed that this was different, though. 

“You’re not going to be able to live in that apartment forever, Steven,” she said.

“I know that.”

“And you’ll definitely need a better job. I highly doubt your father’s previous offer still stands, by the way.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” she asked him. Her voice had a bite to it that he had never been on the receiving end of before. “You’ve been saying ‘I know’ for years now, Steve. You know you need to grow up, you know you’ll have to move out someday, you know you have to do something with your life, yet you have never made any actual effort to do anything about it!”

“Mom, that’s not true-”

“If you want to start making big, adult choices like this, you’re going to have to start acting like one. Clearly, you’re not a child anymore.” 

His mother untied her apron and tossed it onto the counter before leaving the kitchen, heels clicking on the tile.

Steve’s whole family had been waiting for that thing; that final, fatal event that would break the Hawkins Harringtons for good. Aunts, uncles, cousins, all piecing together whatever bits of gossip they could, knew that the string that tied Steve to his parents was being pulled thinner and thinner and thinner. His mother could only do so much mending for him, and everyone had spent the last few years waiting with bated breath for that string to snap, for Steve to lose his footing. Once it did, he would plummet.

Steve was now standing alone in his childhood home, scissors in hand. 

Steve didn’t know what to do, so he stood up and turned off the stove. He pulled out a tupperware container and boxed up the vegetables. He wrapped the meat in foil and left it out on the counter, because it needed to cool before it could be put away, or else it would screw with the temperature inside the refrigerator. He found a stopper and closed the bottle of wine, placing it in the fridge before gathering the three glasses. His was still full, and he wanted to chug it, but thought better of it and poured it down the drain. He cleaned all of the dishes, dried them, and put them away. He turned off the oven, and wiped down all of the countertops, and neatly hung the towel to dry. He turned off the lights, making sure to leave the one above the stove on as a nightlight. 

Truly, there wasn’t much left of his personal belongings that he really cared about that he hadn’t already taken to your apartment. Most of what he needed was already there. He could grab the rest of it when his mother wasn’t home; the rest of his clothes, important documents, that kind of thing. What all do you even need to bring with you when you're being forced out of your childhood home, anyway? 

Later. This was something he could deal with later.

So he left. Unsurprisingly, his father’s car was nowhere to be seen. He wanted to keep talking to his mom, to explain himself, to apologize, to say anything, but he knew it would just make it worse than it already was, so he just got into his car and pulled away instead.

He did need a better job. He’d been needing a better job for a while now, actually, but he definitely needed a better job now. And his mother was right, there was no way he would be able to work for his dad after that. 

He wished he was able to explain to his parents that hey, funny story, due to atrocities he won’t be explaining right now, the government actually gave him a frankly absurd amount of money a few years ago, and he’d be alright for a while. It wouldn’t last forever, but it was enough to keep the pair of you afloat, especially with yours, too. You had used a bit of it on rent right after your parents had left, but Steve’s money sat mostly untouched in a bank account his family didn’t know he had. 

See, the thing about government hush money is that you can’t just go out and spend it on something wild, because then people are going to ask where it came from. Believe him, if he had been able to go out and buy some fancy sports car or a bunch of designer clothes, he would have. His father would have told him to buy a nice watch and invest the rest of it (Steve wasn’t entirely sure what that actually meant, or how to even go about doing it). He was just grateful to have it right now.

He could put a down payment on a house for you and him. That seemed like something a responsible adult would do with it, right?

Steve pulled up to your building and was shocked with how well he’d held it together up until this point, because he felt like he was going to explode. When he got to your floor and walked into your apartment, you were sitting on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table, textbooks and paper spread before you. The sound of him walking in pulled you away from your schoolwork and when you turned to look at Steve, you were clearly upset.

“You told me you were off more than an hour ago!” you said as you wiggled out from behind the table and stood up. “I was starting to get really worried, Steve, where were you?”

“I, uhm,” Steve started. He felt his voice crack, the sting of tears beginning to well in his eyes. He had to keep his shit together, for your sake.

“Did something happen?” you asked him. You brought your hands up to the sides of his face, and there went any chance of him keeping it together. 

“I told my parents,” he confessed. He was not going to cry in front of you. He wasn’t.

“What?” you questioned. You sounded a little bit hurt that he did it without asking you, but mostly just horribly concerned. “I thought we agreed to wait.”

“We did, but it was eating away at me, and I just couldn’t sit on it anymore, and-” The floodgates broke and Steve’s words were cut off by a strained sob. 

“Oh, Stevie.” You pulled him into a hug and Steve wanted nothing more than for these stupid tears to just dry up, but it felt like weeks and weeks of pent up worry and fear were being pulled to the surface, and he didn’t have it in him to try and stop any of it. He was supposed to be the strong one for you, but Jesus Christ, that was difficult. “It was bad?”

“Well, they kicked me out,” Steve said.

“What?”

“Which, I mean, my dad’s right. I barely even live there anymore, so I guess it doesn’t really even matter,” he rambled out, wiping his nose on his sleeve like a child.

“Yes, it does,” you assured him.

“And I’m pretty sure that this is my mother's worst nightmare, so I don’t know why I didn’t expect her to be pissed.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. You pulled Steve towards the couch and carefully lowered onto the cushions, your grasp on his wrists bringing him down to your side. 

“And Robin and I got into a fight, too.”

“You didn’t tell her, did you?” you questioned.

“No, but I think if I don’t do it soon, she might disown me,” he admits. 

“She’s not going to disown you,” you protested. “She’d never do that.”

“My parents just did,” Steve lamented. “My mother just did. Who’s to say Robin isn’t next, huh?”

Steve would never, ever be able to make his father proud, because his father would never, ever let him even get close. He had known that for a long time, and maybe there was a part of him that was relieved by that. He knew that it was an entirely unattainable goal, so he never really bothered to reach for it. His mother, oh so cruelly, always made sure Steve knew that he could do great things. Why did she have to go and do that? Steve knew his mother held him to a high bar, he just hadn’t ever considered the possibility that he wouldn’t be able to jump high enough.

So maybe that’s why it hurt so badly when you curled into him that night when he finally crawled into bed. Maybe that’s why he called into work the next day, even though he knew it would probably make Robin totally freak out. Maybe that’s why he waited until he saw his mother’s car leave the driveway before going into his - what used to be his- house to box up the last of his things.

Maybe that’s why he missed the Hawkins Police Department truck parked outside of your apartment building when he was bringing groceries inside a handful of days later. 

“I’m back!” he called into your apartment after releasing the wildly heavy grocery bags onto the kitchen counter. Making more than one trip is for suckers. “They didn’t have any pineapple juice, so I just got a pineapple, figured it can’t be too hard to just-”

Steve cut himself off when he looked up from the paper bags to see more than just you sitting in the living room; Joyce was sitting on your left with an arm wrapped protectively over your shoulders, Robin on your right with her legs pulled up underneath her and a tissue box in her lap, and Hopper was propped up on the arm of the couch. You were in the middle of the array, in tears. 

“Hello,” Steve nervously greeted, eyes wide as frisbees and blood running cold.

There was absolutely no universe in which this went well.

Robin’s expression, which had clearly been soft and sympathetic before Steve had interrupted them, quickly changed into anger. She shot up from the couch, earning her a disapproving tut from Joyce and making you wince away from her. It took her three wide stomps to cross the small space and grab onto Steve’s wrist with more strength than he knew she had in her.

“Ow, Robin!” Steve complained as she dragged him out into the hallway. She slammed the door hard behind her and it made Steve jump.

“What the fuck, Steve!” she demanded.

“Robin-”

“I mean, seriously, what the fuck!” Steve could already hear the noise complaints from the neighbors as she chastised him. “You lied to me!”

“I-” didn’t, is what he wanted to say, but he knew better than that. “I’m sorry.”

“How long have you two been back together then?” she questioned. Steve really didn’t want to admit it. “How long?”

“Six months,” he replied, sheepishly.

“Six months?!” Robin shrieked in disbelief. “Jesus Christ, you really did lie to me!”

“Robin,” Steve said, hushed and ashamed and really fucking mad at himself.

“For half a year! You lied to me for half a year!”

“I’m sorry!”

“She had to turn down her job offer from the school,” Robin barked. 

“I know that.”

“The job that she’s been talking about for, oh I don’t know, six months? Probably more than that, actually!”

“I know, Robin, alright?” Steve assured her and crossed his arms across his chest. “You think I don’t? I am highly aware of that!”

“And, I’m sorry, but you’re far from the King of Responsibility!” Robin said. 

“What does that mean?!” Steve questioned, a tint of frustration layered over his words. 

“I’m just saying, you aren’t exactly known for your maturity,” she spat.

“You think we wouldn’t be able to take care of-”

“She can. I know she can.  She’s more than capable of doing whatever the hell she puts her mind to, but you?” Anger and resentment dripped from her mouth with each word. “You, I’m honestly not sure. If you were more willing to lie to my face for six months than you were to just tell me the fucking truth, I’m sorry, but that’s really winning you any responsible adult points, is it?”

Tears pricked behind Steve’s eyes. He wanted to yell, to scream at the top of his lungs that, no, Robin, you’re wrong, I can do this!, but he really wasn’t sure if it was true. If his closest friend, one of the people he trusted most in the whole world, really thought that he wouldn’t be able to do this, then maybe she’s right, right?

The apartment door next to Steve slowly creeped open.

“Everything alright out here?” Hopper asked, carefully planting himself just slightly between Steve and Robin. 

Robin lost her vitriol like a tea kettle after the burner got turned off, leaving her with no more steam to fuel what she needed to say. 

“I’m waiting out in the car,” she muttered as she whizzed past Steve and turned down the stairwell. The two men in the hall listened to her descending footsteps. Once they heard the front door open and slam back shut, Jim broke through the quiet.

“Robin wanted me to check up on you after you called out,” Jim explained. “She was worried you were mad at her, after your fight.”

“Right,” Steve said.

“So, imagine my surprise when your mom answers the door, only to tell me that you don’t live there anymore,” the older man said. “She wouldn’t tell me why, just gave me an address and shut the door.”

“Look, if you’re here to give me another angry dad talk, then you don’t have to bother. Mine did a pretty damn good job all on his own,” Steve asserted. 

“I’m not here to be angry.” Steve could tell that Hopper was choosing his words very, very carefully.

“Oh, that’s unlike you,” Steve commented, arms still crossed and eyes on the floor.

“Don’t be shitty!” Jim snapped. Steve withered.

“Sorry,” he muttered, still not able to look the man in the eyes. Jim just sighed.

“Do you have a plan, Steve?” he asked. 

“Yes. No,” Steve replied. “I don’t know. She seems to have one.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I’m just not sure if I fit in it,” Steve confessed.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Jim huffed. “Maybe you do need another angry dad talk!”

“What do you want me to say?” Steve interrogated. “That everything is under control and totally normal? I have no idea what’s going to happen! None! And, honestly? I’m fucking terrified, Hopper!” 

“Steve-”

“I have to be good at this. I have to! Because I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I’m not, but I am so terrified that I won’t be able to, and I’m going to let her down, and I can’t do that!” It all came out as some sort of paranoia fueled stream of consciousness. “I’d rather die than be anything like my dad, but what if it’s just in my blood? Like, I’m just predestined to turn out just as shitty as him!”

“You definitely won’t,” Jim said, as if it were just a simple fact. “I can assure you, there are very few people on this earth as shitty as your father, and you are not one of them.”

Jim wasn’t overly fond of Ronald Harrington; he was an all-around asshole to most people he met.

“Look, as much as I hate to admit it, you two aren’t kids anymore,” Hop said. “You’re grownups, you two are smart. You can make your own choices. If this is the choice you two wanna make, then make it.”

“You’re making it sound so simple,” Steve snarked.  

“It kind of is,” the chief replied. 

“Really? Because this feels like the least simple thing that’s ever happened to me,” Steve said. “You’re really not mad?”

“Well, I’m not thrilled,” Hopper grumbled. “But, like I said. You two are grownups. You can do whatever the hell you want.”

The pair stood in silence for a moment. Steve knew that Hop was more than likely lying about how mad he was, though he had been preparing himself for Jim to completely lose it on him. He probably would have deserved it. 

“Does it ever get less terrifying?” Steve asked, genuinely wanting to know.

“Nope.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“And it’s not just the fun parts,” Jim added.

“I know,” Steve responded.

“It’s more than just tiny socks and decorating the nursery.”

“I know that.” 

“Just makin’ sure.” Jim was far from happy, but he gave Steve a nod and a pat on the back, which was as close to congratulations as he was going to get. “I know the kids give you a hard time, but you’re smart, and so is she. You two know what you’re doing.”

“Thank you.”

“She’s really, really scared, Steve,” Hopper said. There was something in his voice; a silent question of  ‘do you really know what it is you’re getting yourself into?’

“I know,” Steve replied.

“You don’t get to panic now, alright?” Jim told him. “And you don’t get to change your mind.”

“I won’t. I promise,” Steve said; ‘I do know, and I want all of it.’ “I would never do that to her. Never.”

The pair went back inside, and you seemed to be in slightly better spirits now, even if you still had a sea of tears in your eyes. Both you and Joyce turned to face the two men with questions in your eyes, and Jim’s small nod seemed to be enough of an answer for Joyce to shoot off of the couch to envelop Steve in a tight hug. 

“I have lots of baby things I can bring by for you two,” she gushed after pulling away.

“You don’t have to do that,” you said to her, but she was having none of it.

“Don’t worry about it,” Joyce assured. “It’s all just collecting dust anyway.”

Which left Dustin, who in a lot of ways, Steve was the most worried about. He could take the anger from the grownups. Hell, he could take it from Robin, but Dustin, he was less sure about. 

In true Henderson fashion, he found out about Baby Harrington a few days later, entirely by mistake.

“I still don’t understand why they kicked you out in the first place,” Dustin stated from his spot on the living room floor of your (Steve’s!) apartment. He was digging through a pile of old clothes Steve decided he no longer needed. He had a lot of things, he’d realized while moving in, and he really only wanted a few of them, needed even less. He would donate whatever went unclaimed, but Dustin wanted first dibs for himself. 

“Because they’re assholes,” Steve responded. 

“Okay, yeah, fair, but hasn’t Robin been begging you to get a place with her for, like, a year?” 

“It’s not like I was able to really take my time apartment hunting.”

“I still feel like crashing on Robin’s couch for a while would’ve made more sense than moving in here,” Dustin supplied. Steve rolled his eyes.

“I needed an apartment, she needed a roommate, that’s it. Alright?” Steve loved Dustin like a little brother, but good lord, he could be obnoxious sometimes. “Now pick out what you want so I can clean this shit up.”

Dustin finished his haul, though he grumbled about how Steve was rushing him the whole time, and gathered the previously neatly folded clothes into a messy pile.

“I didn’t think of how I was gonna get any of this stuff out to the car.” Dustin, at not- quite- eighteen years old, had finally gotten his drivers license. ‘Thank god,’ Steve had remarked, ‘that I don’t have to be your fucking chauffeur anymore.’ That sentiment only lasted a little while, though, as it quickly became clear that a drivers license meant that Dustin could come and bother Steve whenever he wanted to. And he wanted to all the time. “Will you help me carry it all out?”

“No, I won’t, because there are more trash bags in the cabinet under the sink.” Steve pointed towards the small kitchen. Dustin got up off the floor, going into the kitchen and checking in seemingly every cupboard you had.

“I said under the sink, dude!” Steve heard the squeaky cabinet hinges open and shut, the rustle of the plastic trash bag.

“Steve?” Dustin called after a moment. The apartment was small, and the only real thing separating the kitchen and living room was a few feet of counter and the floor switching from tile to carpet.

“What?” Steve responded, not bothering to look up from the clothes he was shoveling back into their own trash bag. 

“What’s this?” Dustin asked him. When Steve finally looked up at him, he was pointing towards something on the fridge, and it took Steve a second to realize that what Dustin was referring to was the ultrasound pictures that he’d forgotten to take down.

Well, shit.

Steve rocketed towards the fridge to put them away, but Dustin was faster and grabbed them before he could. The damage was already done.

“Dustin, please give me that,” Steve asked. 

“This has her last name on it,” the younger boy observed. 

“Put it down, alright? You weren’t supposed to see it in the first place, so just-”

“Is she fucking pregnant?” Dustin demanded. 

“Dustin, please.” 

“I didn’t think she was dating anyone, though?” the boy thought out loud. “Oh, my god, I wonder if it’s someone we know!”

Oh, it definitely is.

“Dude, c’mon, please just give me the picture.” Remember what Steve said about Dustin being obnoxious?

“Wait, why are you moving in with her if she’s pregnant?” Dustin inquired. “I’m pretty sure that extra bedroom is gonna be pretty occupied in nine months.”

“It’s closer to six, actually,” Steve clarified, and Dustin’s eyes widened. “But that isn’t the point, can you please just-”

“Steve?” the boy asked, tone shifting away from curiosity into something Steve found much more concerning.

“Yeah?” Steve sighed.

“Why did you move in with her?” he asked again, although the way he spoke the words made Steve think Dustin probably already had it figured out. 

“Why do you think?” was all Steve could come up with to say.

“Oh, my god.”

“Dustin-”

“Oh, my god!”

“You cannot tell anyone, okay? This is totally top secret,” Steve begged.

“Did you-? You two-!” Dustin stuttered out. “Oh, my god!”

Dustin was about to start hyperventilating and Steve was doing his best to keep that from happening, pulling the glossy image out of Dustin’s hand as if it were made of precious porcelain, when the sound of keys jingling in the door distracted them. Both boys fell into bitter silence as you opened the door and took in the sight in front of you; a very frazzled Steve and a very distressed Dustin.

“Hi?” you greeted. “What’s going-”

“You’re fucking pregant?” Dustin exclaimed.

“What?” you spat out in response. Steve could tell that your mind was working a mile a minute to come up with a way to cover for yourself. “I-I don’t, uhm-”

“I left the sonogram on the fridge by mistake,” Steve confessed. He felt awful. “I’m sorry, it didn’t even cross my mind.”

“Oh,” you replied. You hadn’t moved from your spot in the entryway, hadn’t put down your bag or taken off your coat. You just stayed frozen.

“Oh, I have so many feelings!” Dustin wheezed, leaning forward. “Oh, my god!”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned him.”

“You’re having a fucking baby?” Dustin asked you.

“Yes,” you timidly responded, slowly placing your work bag onto the side of the couch.

“With Steve?!”

“Yes,” you said again.

“That Steve?” Dustin pointed a thumb over his shoulder to where Steve was hovering behind him. “Steve Harrington? Our Steve?”

You nodded. “That Steve.”

“Holy shit,” the boy breathed out.

“Please don’t be mad,” Steve requested.

“What? Mad, why would I be mad?” he asked. “Who’s mad?”

“Well, so far, everyone,” Steve explained.

“Wait, is this why Robin’s not talking to you?” Dustin asked.

“Robin’s not talking to you?” you piped up, concern dripping from your words. 

Steve hadn’t mentioned that part to you yet. 

Robin had been giving Steve total radio silence ever since she had found out. Even at work, she was refusing to say a single word to him. She went and hid in the bathroom anytime Steve tried to say anything at all, and she had even recruited Keith to be her disinterested, detached middle man and relay VHS-related messages if she really needed to. 

To say the least, she really hadn’t taken it all that well.

“Later?” he said to you, silently begging you to table this conversation for a time when you didn’t have a very upset teenager in your kitchen.

Sticky silence fell over the three of you, sealing to Steve’s skin and filling his lungs up in a way he hated. Dustin was the one who peeled through it first. 

“Are you actually having a baby?” The question was directed to Steve this time. Dustin was wildly expressive, he always had been, and he looked very, very overwhelmed. Steve felt about the same. He just nodded, and it took a second for Dustin to properly process the news.

“Gimme the picture again!” Dustin insisted. 

“No, dude! We only have a few and-”

“Excuse me, it’s my nephew, I think I get to see the picture if I want to!”

The tension dissolved as soon as the words came out of Dustin’s mouth. Steve had been so, so worried that he’d be mad, madder than Robin was. 

“Hah! See, Dustin thinks it’s a boy, too!” Steve exclaimed to you. Reservation made way for excitement. Like Dustin said, it’s his nephew.

“Oh, god, please don’t start with this again,” you said, smiling despite the faux exasperation in your voice.

“You think it’s a girl?” Dustin asked.

“I think,” you say as you shuck off your coat and lean against the counter, across from the boys, “that Steve is going to get his hopes up about it being a boy, and then be disappointed if it isn’t.”

“Not possible,” Steve clarified with a smile. “Besides, you don’t have to worry about it because I’m right, and it’s gonna be a boy.”

Dustin didn’t end up leaving until a good few hours later, when Steve noticed how your eyes kept fluttering shut as you leaned against his shoulder. He had to manhandle the boy out the door; he had a seemingly unending vault of questions (“you guys have been sleeping together this whole time?!”), but you were totally wiped. 

You really just wanted to just go to bed, but Steve insisted you ate something first, and a mug of soup later, you were practically dead on your feet. He cleaned up any dinner mess (canned soup doesn’t really result in any mess, but he’d be damned if you had to put your own dishes into the dishwasher), and sent you off to get ready for an early turn in. 

He’d just put the pot away when you summoned him into the bathroom.

“You alright?” Steve asked, leaning against the doorframe. You were standing in front of the sink in your pajamas. He could smell your mouthwash.

“Come look.”

Steve took a step into the bathroom to sidle up next to you as you pulled the bottom edge of your too-big t-shirt up. Your fingers ever so gently ghosted over your stomach.

“That wasn’t there before,” you asked, tilting your head back against the crook of Steve’s arm to look up at him. “Was it?”

Steve was entranced by your reflection in the mirror, by the way the swell of your tummy absolutely gave you away. 

“I don’t know.” Steve spoke just barely above a whisper, the way he would have if he was standing in a church. You felt like an angel beneath his arm. “I don’t think so.”

“I feel like I would have noticed it if it was,” you said, eyes glued to the mirror just as Steve’s were. 

“Definitely would’ve noticed,” Steve quietly gushed. “You officially have a baby bump.”

Realistically, you still had a couple more weeks before anyone else would actually be able to see it. Still small enough to hide behind your clothes, but absolutely, undoubtedly there. 

You hummed, and Steve noticed the way you were trying to hide your smile.

“You’re allowed to be happy about it, you know,” Steve reminded you. Your eyes caught his again, and your small, shy smile grew just a little bit bigger as you pulled his hand away from your hip and placed it firmly against the slope of your tummy. He felt his breath hitch, like the action of touching you was breaking some sort of cardinal law, but he stroked his thumb up and down, up and down across your skin, and you flattened yourself as deeply into his chest as you possibly could. He pressed a kiss to your temple, lingering in the scent of you for as long as he could allow himself to.

His hand stayed glued to you for the remainder of the evening.

Tiny Little Taglist: @sheisjoeschateau @hazydespair @damon-loves-pie @pariahsparadise @anislabonis-love @e509 @alexa4040 @starsforviolet @hoesbloated @luvlexi-darling

[smeddiemunson]

While i think Robin being utterly grossed out by everything to do with Steve and a relationship is so funny, i’m kinda obsessed with the idea that they don’t have any boundaries. They’re codependent and don’t know how to function without each other!

When Steve and Eddie start dating, Eddie thinks it could be really funny to make Robin squirm with details of their sex life because sometimes she’s a little mean and he wants payback in a way that won’t add to the levels of trauma they’ve all experienced. 

So Eddie’s teasing her and making it raunchy, laughing as he watches her nose scrunch up at the details, and if he’s embellishing the truth just a little bit, well, it’s only for the fun of revenge. 

But Robin stops him and says, “was this before or after you bust a nut like three seconds after you got inside him?” Laughs at the way Eddie’s face immediately flushes bright red. 

And Eddie whips his head around to stare accusingly at his boyfriend, hissing through his teeth, “You told her about that?” 

Steve just shrugs, shameless, says, “I tell her everything, you know that.” as if it should explain everything. 

Chrissy not even batting an eye when Steve references something that she thought was just between her and Robin. She knew Robin and Steve were close, knew Robin said she told him everything, everything, and Chrissy hadn’t really believed her until that moment. So okay, she just had to learn to be okay with Steve knowing everything about her and it’s really not a hard thing to learn because Steve cares. Steve cares so much and he obviously cares about Robin, and that’s enough for Chrissy.

Eddie grumbling when he finds out that Chrissy handles it better than he does, and maybe they should start telling each other everything about Steve and Robin. But he’s mostly just disappointed he hasn’t been able to get the jump on Robin yet. He can’t hate it though because he sees how happy they make each other. 

Steve and Robin, who try to hang out with other people, only to realise that when they get there, when they’re in the middle of whatever activity they’ve been convinced to take part in, they miss the other one and don’t actually want to be not hanging out with them. 

Steve and Robin needing to recharge their batteries with one another whenever they’ve been apart for longer than a day. Sometimes it’s sleepovers in the same bed, limbs twisted together and sharing each others clothes, but most of the time it’s sitting on opposite sides of the couch, half watching whatever they have on TV and not talking to each other. They just need to be in each others space, breathing the same air. 

They say the same thing at the same time all the time, and always treat it like its new and exciting, clambering over one another to wave their hands about and shout “oh my god! We’re the same person! We share a brain!”. Their friends know now not to say anything because they’ll only be met with glares and assertions that “you just don’t get it.” 

You can’t invite one of them to something and not the other. They just assume they’re both invited, they’re a package deal! And if someone tries to get them to come alone, they’re met with this sort of kicked puppy look and a quiet “but what about Robin?” or “what about Steve?”

The only real exception to the rule are Eddie and Chrissy who absolutely adore their partners other half, but need some alone time in their relationship. But they double date a lot, more than they do single dates. And it actually works out better that way because Eddie and Chrissy are almost as close as Steve and Robin (maybe without as much co-dependency), and they do fun things like play mini golf or go out to the city for a weekend where nobody knows who they are. 

Steve and Robin are bonded for life and if you want to be a part of their life in any capacity you just have to be okay with it.

[corrodedcoughin]

Hello, so @metal-dads and @kkpwnall made some truly excellent points of Christmas pun lover Eddie and I’m here to add some nonsense

I'm thinking as soon as it turns to the first of December the campaign turns to 'elf-fire' and all of the party has to create elf-sonas. The whole story is that they have to slay Satan, oops sorry, Santa (‘Did you hear that everyone? sleigh? oh, you did? well, I didn't hear any laughing, so I'll say it again and maybe this time you'll get it. oh, you don't find it funny Gareth? well look who has a life-threatening curse that means they are always at half hp, its Ga-wreath the christmas elf! Shut Up! if you appreciated my comedic genius, you wouldn't be in this mess’)

As the weeks go on he slowly adds and adds to his santa costume but none of the red tones match, the beard is just cotton balls glued to an old tshirt and he's doused his hair in talc to make it white that just ends up coating everything when Eddie starts getting into the game and shaking his head at each roll of the dice.

Each time Eddie makes an atrocious christmas pun, be it at the club or out in the wild, the party laugh too enthusiastically, knowing the vengeance he'll take out on them if he doesn't.

Then on the final night, Steve comes to pick the kids up but he's early and outside is freezing so he takes himself inside to sit in on the last part of the campaign. Eddie makes yet another terrible play on festive words and all of 'elf-fire' laugh too loud and too long. When they stop Steve just looks up and states quite plainly and unbothered

'dude, that was shit'

The party go silent, but then they realise, Steve doesn't have a character, he isn't at risk in this situation. They all cheer much to Steve's confusion and Eddie whips his head around, feeling brave in his dungeon master persona. Stares Steve down and mischeviously smiles 'hmm don't like my puns? maybe you should find a way to shut me up then'

and Steve? Steve didn't get his reputation for nothing, sure his heart is beating like a hummingbird, and he feels lightheaded and the thought off what Eddie is proposing but he doesn't let it show, not yet, not when he doesn't know if Eddie is serious

'oh no santa is mad at me, have I been bad?' with a roll of his eyes and smirk of his own.

Eddie turns immediately back to the party face as red as his Santa hat and ploughs back into the game, maybe not so focused as he had been before. The campaign is successful, absolutely annihilating Santa/satan as Eddie dramatically re-enacts the death (‘and to all a good fright ho..ho…ho…AND SCENE’)

If Steve hangs back after the kids file out and gets back to the car with a bashful smile and white powder suspiciously similar to the talc in Eddies hair on his face and clothes well, that's Dustin's mystery to solve. And he will, have no doubts about it.

[thewidowstanton]

Dangerous Steve, outdoor showman, comedy actor, Sideshow Illusions performer

Dangerous Steve is the stage name of Steve Collison, who was born in King’s Lynn but grew up near the Buckinghamshire village of Middle Claydon. He had the most extraordinary childhood and started living up to his name by doing dangerous things at a ridiculously young age. He was billed – by agents such as Bernard Woolley, TB Phillips and Temple’s Gala agency – as ‘the World’s Youngest Motorcycle Stunt Rider’. As well as touring internationally as Dangerous Steve, he has also worked with Magic Carpet Theatre – where he is company manager – for 30 years. And he regularly performs with Jon Marshall’s Sideshow Illusions and Dr Phantasma’s Amazing Ten in One Show.

Steve is married to fellow Sideshow Illusions performer Alexandra Collison, who was my first Widow interviewee, under her maiden name of Boanas. Alex, who is a trained soprano and has an MA in performance, often plays Yvette – the Headless Lady, Miss Elastina and No-Middle Myrtle, as well as Romana the Gypsy Queen on the Ladder of Swords. They have two children, Flossie and Winnie, who are almost destined to follow in their parents’ showbusiness footsteps. Steve chats to Liz Arratoon.

The Widow Stanton: When and how did you start stunt riding? Dangerous Steve: My dad, Peter, was the butler at Claydon House stately home in Buckinghamshire. At Christmas when I was five, Sharon, my sister, was getting lots of presents and I almost started getting a bit teary because I noticed I wasn’t getting as many. Then I was taken into the other room where there was a big present. Somewhere I’m on Cine film; there’s me unwrapping a motorbike, and apparently I just stood there shaking for ages, which was very funny. I started off just riding round the estate for a while but dad wasn’t very impressed with me just haring around on a motorbike, he wanted me to do tricks and stuff like that.

As a child, to be brought up at Claydon House… I was the only one on the estate as my sister went away to boarding school as a dancer. Sometimes I just wanted to kick a football around with my friends; on the other hand I did go around the estate thinking how lucky I was and how amazing the views over the lake were on summer evenings. We used to live in the courtyard. There was a swimming pool and stuff like that, which Sir Ralph and Lady Verney never really used, so I had my own little swimming pool. They were like my grandparents. I’d go round there on Christmas day and open presents with them.

I joined The Spirit of Britain junior motorcycle display team, which was run by a guy called Gus Scott, who used to train Eddie Kidd. I was with them from when I was five years old to seven. They were based in Luton and I toured around with them, but because I had so much space at home and they could only meet twice a week, I started practising all the tricks alone. My dad was thinking, ‘Well, he can now do all these tricks himself’, so he started taking me to do all the galas and carnivals around the country to perform on my own. Your dad sounds amazing. What sort of dad would give his kid a motorbike? Did he want to be in showbusiness himself? Yes, he did. He was very different. He managed to get an Equity card and had done some extra work and been in shows doing whatever he was asked to do. I think people are now quite interested in butlers and stately homes. My mum was very proud of me but would only watch me once I could do the tricks without falling off. I hurt myself but I never broke any bones with the motorbike. My dad was very good at starting off with quite basic things and was very strict on making sure I did things the right way. How much fun was all this for a kid? It was very exciting. I couldn’t sleep the week before a show. We’d go away in a big lorry and it was like a holiday, apart from I used to have to map-read. Some of these country fairs are in the middle of nowhere and one wrong turn, you could end up backing the lorry two miles down the road in the way of tractors… I soon got very good at map-reading because otherwise I’d get into so much trouble. I was doing tricks jumping over fire and through fire at seven or eight. Dad was very good at building props and made a tunnel of fire. Once we’d got the frame with all the fire straw in the middle of the park – we’d found a field without any sheep on it – I remember saying to him just before we lit it, ‘Dad, when we light the fire, what if I don’t want to do it?’, and he said: “You will do it. Now I’ve built it, you’ll do it.”

Once they were built, there was no going back and I’d practise and practise and practise. As I got older, people expected more from me, so the ability went up with my age; bigger jumps, bigger fire, pyrotechnics… because it was only me, whereas some of the bigger army display teams, like the White Helmets, would fill the stage. I had a load of publicity when I was awarded The Star newspaper Best in Britain award, presented by David Essex. I was sponsored by National, the petrol firm who used Smurfs to promote their brand. Sharon joined the act. Later she became a dancer and choreographer and now runs Claydons Academy, teaching dance and drama, but then she was a Smurf! Were you paid appearance fees? Yes. Once when I had a three-week tour in Scotland, the whole family came up there because it was in the summer holidays. We all stayed in a tent and it rained for most of the time. I can remember waking up one morning floating on an airbed. I didn’t realise until I put my foot outside the sleeping bag into a load of water that the whole family was floating! I’d get paid every week and we’d accumulated quite a bit of cash. The Leeds Building Society was doing deals at the gala that if you were a child you could open a bank account with £1 and you got a money box and a bag and stuff like that. Mum and dad decided the safest thing to do with the money was to go to open up an account. I was about eight. They were expecting me to give £1 and suddenly I had this wad of cash. They must have wondered where I’d got it from and just thought I’d stolen it or found it.

Did you ever go to school? I did. The school was very good and if ever there was a school fete or anything like that they’d always ask me to do my motorcycle stunt show. I was filmed on my motorbike for children’s TV with Anneka Rice, who once came to school. We had a mock school fete and she was lying down and I ended up jumping over her. What happened next? The motorbike act stopped when public liability insurance started getting really expensive. I was about 14. Then my dad and I toured the Crazy Brigade – a comedy fire brigade, very much Keystone Cops, very visual – round country shows and big galas. It was a comedy car act that drove on its own and fell apart, but it was more like a stunt comedy act. There was a lot of water! My dad built a human cannon and we thought, ‘Oh, we need an act for it’, especially when he’d taken a picture of it and sold it. We had ten shows booked in before we even had an act.

I used to worry; we had a prop, a comedy cannon, but no show. It blew up at the end and I went flying out of the end of it but not a great distance. I never got to the net on the other side of the arena. But we did it in the end and it was very successful. I knew Martin Burton of Zippos Circus from the galas and carnivals, rather than as a circus contact. When I was 15, in my last year at school, he kindly said I could do work experience on their theatre tour. Other people worked in the local bakery. I went to Wales and Carlisle and never went back to school.

What does Dangerous Steve actually do? It kind of depends where I’m booked to do it. If it’s in the middle of a town centre early on a Saturday morning with a few people walking past with shopping bags, the last thing they want to do is get stopped to watch a show by some nutter in the street. I try to make my show very entertaining and try to be likeable on stage. If it’s indoors and the audience is put there for me, it’s the same show but I have to work in a different way. I do ten things; I start on my motorcycle monowheel. It builds up a big crowd straightaway. I sit inside the wheel – the engine is inside it – and it’s a very difficult bike to balance and ride. I’ve spent the last three years learning how to do a new trick on it; a double loop the loop.

I then go on to my motorcycle sidecar, which I ride round, introduce myself, and then stand on top of the seat and juggle knives. Then I do some fire. With outdoor shows I try to make it really very appealing at the start to distract people from the funfair and the stalls by doing fire tricks and some big fireballs with fire whips and things like that…

Fire whips? Yes, they create a massive fireball. I go from there to the unsupported ladder, so I’m up high, talking to people telling them what they’re about to see, and if they don’t want to see it now’s the time to leave! I’m very proud of balancing on top of a ten-foot ladder. It’s scary, as I don’t like heights! Then I then do a giant rola-bola, so I’m on a tower, on top of a beer keg on its side and on top of a board, and then I go through a fire hoop. Then I juggle a chainsaw, and do my giant unicycle, which is bigger this year, a ten-foot unicycle, and then into a blindfold motorcycle stunt. I set two chainsaws going – possibly four this year – on a frame, and I ride round blindfolded and through the frame with a steel shield on my face and a hood over my head, which I get the audience to check. And, you know, hopefully I don’t cut my head off.

Has anything ever gone wrong? When I was learning, I broke my arm just before doing a show in a school hall. I thought, ‘That really hurt, I think I’ve damaged my arm’. In the first part of show I had to play the drums. Oh, my goodness, every time I hit the drums it was excruciating. 15 years later I finally learnt to do the trick I was trying when I broke my arm! I did a show in Scotland last year and before I went on, they announced that they were having a dog show and they’d put a big marquee in the corner of the arena, which made it quite narrow. I was driving my monowheel but I tipped over too far and the foot peg stuck into the ground and I went right over doing a somersault in the wheel, I flew out of it, got back on it, and carried on and the crowd loved it! [Laughs]

Then I got on my sidecar to juggle the knives and I went over a bump and one of the knives went into my face. I had blood running down my face. I looked at the organisers who were looking at me, like, ‘What have we booked, some cowboy?’, but actually, afterwards they loved it and they want me back. [Laughs] So it pays to hurt yourself sometimes.  

How did you learn all your other skills? Because I’ve been involved in so many shows over the years, I kind of picked up all these skills individually. It was a bit of watching others and trial and error. My show is very different to anyone else’s on the outdoor circuit. I don’t know anyone else who does some of the tricks, but I’ve seen someone else doing others and I’ve thought, ‘Oh, that would be perfect for my show’.

Do you have a natural ability to pick things up? Probably not. It’s practice, and a lot of the things I’ve learnt to do, I was a teenager. If you’re a teenager you don’t mind falling off so much. It doesn’t hurt so much. I must admit some of the time now, when I’m trying new stuff out, I do think, ‘Am I a bit old for this?’.

I believe there’s one motorbike stunt that I’ve done that you haven’t… [Laughs] Yes, yes. The Wall of Death! It’s a dream and an ambition one day to do it.

It was horrific but you would love it! I’m going to contact Jake Messham and try to arrange it. I should do it September because it’s always a little bit dangerous trying new tricks out just before you get really busy for the summer season.

And the Globe of Death, do you fancy that? I would love to try. I’d try anything really.

How do you divide your time? We’re trying to stay busy all year round and it is really busy. The summer is now crazy with Dangerous Steve, so every weekend and Bank Holiday and there seem to be a lot of agricultural shows in the week as well. Last August I went from Orkney to Guernsey, doing shows on the way down as well. Summer season now… outdoor shows seem to be really good, really healthy and a full season of shows, like the olden days, really. When that quietens off in September, we go into Magic Carpet theatre shows and December, we’re sold out in schools performing a theatre show.

How did you come to join Magic Carpet so young? After Zippos the school let me go off on more work experience with Jon Marshall, who I’d worked with in the galas and carnivals when he was The Man with the X-ray Eyes. Magic Carpet is his children’s theatre company that tours schools, art centres and theatres up and down the country and occasionally we get to go abroad. The shows are very visual, good fun and exciting. It’s a comedy play. We don’t have any big message; it’s just a great way to introduce children to live theatre. They laugh all the way through and if they haven’t seen much before, they come out absolutely buzzing. Jon is very good at making it exciting and understandable. It’s a bit of a rollercoaster with highs, but we also bring them down again. We know when the dangerous bits are coming up where the kids might shout out, but no one needs to be on edge as we’ve got them under control.

Do you feel you sort of owe your career to your dad, really? Yes, very much so, dad and Jon. All through my childhood I had so much respect for my dad and so much help, hours and hours of dragging me round the country, which I enjoyed. I enjoyed where I lived at the stately home, and also the travelling around at the same time. He would be working after I’d gone to bed out in the workshop, building props for me and I’d be practising with them after school the next day, probably falling off, breaking it, and he’d be back in the workshop again mending it and telling me not to fall off again.

Do you think your experience could happen to a child these days because of health and safety… It would be very difficult. Even now with Flossie, if she falls over, the first thing that goes through your mind when she goes to pre-school, they’re going to see a bruise and it’s going to have to go in a report and they ask how it happened. They also ask the child as well to see if the stories match, whereas when I was a child and did The Spirit of Britain, I remember we were doing some practising and I set off the wrong way round the arena, ending up colliding with another bike, fell off, the foot peg went into my foot, I ended up in hospital, and then a couple of days later it was all forgotten. I wouldn’t want Flossie to hurt herself and there are ways of learning tricks with protection, but I wouldn’t put her off doing what I did. I try not to be too pushy with her because I think slow and steady will win the race.

Not like yer dad then? [Laughs] [Laughs] To be honest she’s only four, a little bit younger than I was when I started. But she is very keen on running onstage at the end of the show and she likes to go in the blade box, with blades in it. I’ve got a motorbike and sidecar and last year in Poynton, near Manchester, she sat on the sidecar.

Did you ever imagine that this would be your life? No, but later on in school everyone was talking about what they were going to do as a career, and I did think, ‘What the hell am I going to do?’. Then I thought, ‘Well, actually, I quite like what I do now. At the age of 15 I’ve already got quite a few years’ experience behind me. I’ve learnt how to do things and how not to do things’. So it would have been a waste not to carry on, and I’m so glad I stuck at it. When you’re a teenager sometimes the grass is always greener on the other side. When I was getting towards 19, some of my mates were earning quite good money doing other things, and I was thinking, ‘Oh, should I change what I do?’, but obviously I’m so glad I didn’t. I love it more now than ever.

Dangerous Steve will be appearing at Kimpton in Hertfordshire on 4 May, 2019 at the start of his summer season. Check his website for details.

Picture credit: Ian Spooner

Steve’s website

Twitter: @DangerousSteve1 @sideshowmagic

Follow @TheWidowStanton on Twitter

[guitarrod]

This is what I told my soon — to — be — stupid son while he finally felt asleep after moaning.

Hey, Chip, Chip? Are you awake? You can face me, son, it´s alright to be scared. 

Hey, Chip, don´t bury your face in a pillow. Listen to your old man talk so I may feel heroic for a while. Sorry about neglecting you all night. It´s a tic I got from the war, or Life. Neglect of civilian life. Maybe I may feel of service while you burrow in your rabbit hole. I got a confession to make. Being a veteran doesn´t help. It just makes you ruminate things at night. I´m glad you finally got to sleep.

Hey, Chip? Forgive your dad but I had to do it. You can learn something out of the old suffering and strife. Joaquin Phoenix´s Joker turned out to be essential. A sort of litmus test for your manhood. What we learn about ourselves in the battlefield, we carry to the grave. No I´m not trying to be funny. It´s easier to get scared now, when you´re a kid, then later in life. And it´s better to feel scared after watching a movie. Preparation, boy. Bootcamp. I´m conditioning you for anxiety. I knew from the first there wouldn´t be any superhero to save your day, boy. This is war.

You millennials, have social media and I´m deeply sorry for that predicament but I had nothing to do with it and try to be the least involved possible. 

Technology? They take our taxes and funnel it into the Pentagon. For what, you´d ask, if awake? Research and Development. The cold war is over and the Taliban or ISIS wasn´t much. Your grandfather had Vietnam. When you´re drafted from your living room straight to the jungle, you´ll grow out of videogames. Hell, you´ll grow out of Pornohub.

Back in the day, some people showed the courtesy of being famous just out of the happy accident of being born famous. That was tough, kid. A world you never want to see again. A cartoon Vietnam. The enemy was finally home. You want terrorism? Have people pretend street culture ain´t manufactured. Hip Hop survived for a measly second. That´s the Nam. That´s napalm drilling a hole in your core. Vietnam had a better soundtrack than suburbia, kid. I apologize for America. But it is what it is. Soulless. Reality has its side effects.

Have you heard of the assembly line, son? Of dear old Mr. Ford. Well, he was chicken feed to Steve Jobs. Again, I´m sorry. It´s my fault I put you into this world, but I´ll take you out. Not out of this world. I´ll take this world out of you. Even if it kills me. But it will take more than ammo and bombs. There´s no one to shoot. Those assembly lines crossed the boundaries of Mr. Ford´s factory and now you carry that assembly line in your baby hands. Your smartphone, son. Whenever you´re online,son, you are enslaved to the treadmill, building nothing out of nothing, until it gets bigger and bigger and leaves you small and emptier. You see the progression. From the whip to a passive existence building a machine that will build another you instead. Your phone will eat you up. At least, in the first circle of hell all a man had to lose was his self-respect, down to the second circle of hell, all he had to lose was his humanity, down this third circle of pure hell you are annulled. You will cease to exist by an algorithm that never learned existence. Life can´t be computed by a virtual world. Life ceases to exist because it becomes invisible When a man spends all day at the factory, he knows where the line is drawn. He is bound to do the opposite once that freedom bell clangs.

When your great- grandfather immigrated to the land of the free, I refuse to add “brave”, you could see the country. Can you see it now? Or do you see concrete and malls? Steamrolled countryside. First, they mow your lawn, then then they´ll cut your balls. 

Excuse the language, son. I know you´re asleep. You got other things to dream about. I can see computer games coming out of your ears. One difficulty level at a time. You´re dreaming of a dream girlfriend. They don´t build those anymore. But you get the picture.

I´m nagging. I´m just an old man to you. But I´m also a veteran. Experience breeds respect. No, you´re right. It doesn´t. I´m just spare parts. Not even. I missed the last upgrade. I´m not fit to be a human being. But I´m damn capable of being your father. They say you are independent and creative, that´s what they would tell the house boy slave. They got you in so deep, they have found a way for you to build your own maze. You carry it with you, at your fingertips. Each day you create a new corridor, new twists and turns. Your phone isn´t an extension of you. You´re not even an extension of it. Both of you have ceased to exist. They don´t need you, Chip. And they don´t need bullets to delete you. All they need is to upgrade the con. There is nothing better for the maHpresume it. He had an investment to increase. So, back in those days, you just couldn´t just go out and pick up an instrument, they made up such a thing as a professional musician. You left your guitar at home and saw somebody else play it. You stopped daydreaming and had a factory of dreams to provide you with them. And anything that will accommodate man´s unwillingness to move will make you rich. Wasn´t it Steve Jobs who said that man doesn´t know what he desires. Well, he does only he´s forgotten throughout the years. Steve Jobs is only a decadent upgraded version of a ral pioneer bitch like Mr. Taylor and Ford. He had the scheme laid out for him already. You buy your fun, boy. You don´t have it.

Have you seen that schematic design that shows you were to fit batteries. Well, that´s your country. Rectangles and squares crossed with straight lines. Do you think your great-grandfather needed to be whipped? He had a square lunch box he carried with him straight to hell. Do you think his grandfather ate at designated hours? He ate when he was hungry. He slept when the sun went down. He looked for his fun just like a dog will ferret out a rabbit hole. Now fun is designated as well. Defined by you who have lost your mind, ages ago. Oh yes, these things are hereditary. Conditioning is the white man´s burden. He´ll condition himself to the prom, marriage and the grave. It wasn´t always that way son. Corporations crossed the line. There´s your smartphone. And now, we finally get to the Joker.

Voluntary futility, boy. You can´t be whipped into it, you have to be born with it. Remember like I said people inherited fame in my time. Today they found a way to make things easier at the supply side. They made reality shows. But they waited their sweet time before they had the gall. They waited until you TV- fed beasts had enough entertainment, lived and learned your life experiences by show and tell through TV, went through all your coming of age rituals in your living room couch strewn with Cheetos and Doritos all over your stomach to be good and ready to learn every single lesson about life laying down. And then they superimposed it, Life, with Reality. Reality shows. Why hire real people to provide your life lessons when your own boring self broadcast on the screen could do the job. Don´t you get it? The age of reality shows is when the bombs fell. You don´t need napalm to be deformed.

And that´s the theme of the Joker. The joke, if you will. Look at me. Look how I´m talking. I don´t even sound like myself. I sound like the Cosby Show. Remember him? The nation´s daddy? Propofol? Remember Eddie Murphy? He told your jokes for you. He made you work less. You could repeat what you saw on TV and copy and paste. Now I´m talking about myself. Sorry, son. I know you´re asleep with your Roblox. It´s all my fault. I had one day of fun and I was drunk and now I got you on the couch with cheerios sprinkled all over. It wasn´t real fun. It was what they taught me.

So the Joker is about the total banalization of celebrity culture. Remember that scene when his social worker said nobody cared about him. She said nobody cared about her too. Nobody cares. Back in the day, we just cared about Clark Gable. Clark Gable lived in the mist of a glossy magazine. We envied the bastard. He had to walk in feather clouds and smile through his pipe overlooking a pool that looked real to us, the magazine swimming hole. Now Clark Gable, thanks to Mr. Zuckerberg, is your neighbor. So we can feel inadequate about him too. As much as we know his timeline is full of shit we can´t repress that animal feeling of inadequacy at the comparison. Your neighbor´s got the pool now. And the wife, and the car, and the reality show. After all, it´s about nothing and everything, isn´t it? It´s about forged envy. Even our jealousy is a compound of fake news. We made it now, son. Why fight terrorists. We terrorize ourselves.

Well, I got news for you. Your nightmares will last but not if I can do something about it. Celebrities have their lives documented by these phones, they can´t take a piss without being blamed for golden showers and orgies they can´t even brag about. We even elected the Mcdonald´s clown. Orange hair and all. Smiling little cruelty. He´s too inadequate to be a horror show. The real horror show is your envy and hunger for something that´s lost its flavor. And when celebrity culture loses its appeal, when it comes crashing down like a stale joke, then we´ve gone full circle. We´ll need a Michelangelo and a Da Vinci for the least credit. We are so sick of chasing fame, fame is chasing us. And you can only run so fast. Son, here´s the deal. A little metaphor. the 1% who have all the money creates a sense of poverty for those with two tv sets and Cadillac cars that a social revolution should be in order. But it will only come when not even a revolution can be romantic. When that 1% is your neighbor, then there´s a real revolution. The revolution of the sane and the hungry and the need to pluck and pick your own guitars. We need new riffs. It will bowl over. Here´s a secret. What makes man move isn´t hunger and strife, it´s pure boredom. And when the American Dream can´t find a way out, then look out!! Look out Da Vinci! look out Michelangelo! Look out Robert Johnson!!!