#Rocker!Chrissy

[hellcheerficdatabase]

Devour me and my soul if you’re hungry

Author: @bibiche007

Rating/Warning: Explicit

Chapter Count: 5/5

Description:

At the end of the day, Chrissy headed to "her office," rereading the note in her hands.

"Can I see you? 5:30 in the woods? E.M."

And of course she hoped it was the basketball-playing E.M., the one who had occupied all her mind today, and not Elvis Mackensy, a prepubescent junior full of acne pimples. Well, she could hope, but even if it was him, he wouldn't want anything more than a joint to relax, for the after-game party. Worse, maybe it was even his cheerleader girlfriend, Jayne Carver, who was sending him on her errand (Chrissy's sure she'd rather die than talk to the freak queen).

She can't stop her smile when she sees him sitting on the bench with a sense of excitement.

- You know I don't sell steroids, right?" she said wryly.

He flashed her a smile showing his teeth, and it's fucking sexy.

- I have no doubt about my performance, Cunningham. He replied with a playful look in his eyes.

Damn, this boy is going to be the death of her. She already feels like she's having a heart attack. Or an aneurysm.

Tags: Alternate Universe- no vecna, role reversal au, Jock!Eddie, Rocker!Chrissy, soft boy Eddie, Eddie needs a hug, Chrissy is a sweetie, smut, fluff, it's so SPICY, alternating POV, multiple chapters, status: completed

[fujiblackthorne]

grace van dien in Escaping Dad (2017) ❤️‍🔥

[kulturado]

The Story: Chrissie Hynde: ‘I’m more relaxed now. Ageing is like being a pothead again’

The Writer: Tim Adams

(Chrissie Hyde photo by David Vintiner/The Observer)

[taintandviolent]

Turbo Lover ; Eddie Munson x Reader

summary: After getting fed up with Jason Carver and his gross attitude, reader decides to take him up on a dare. That dare, is kissing Eddie Munson on the mouth. Something she's been longing to do since she arrived in Hawkins.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 3.5K | female reader, smut, use of pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby, etc.), fingering, handjobs.

a/n: started writing this back in *checks watch* july of 2022....... ahem. finished writing this to turbo lover by judas priest, if you wanna listen! just felt like an eddie song to me, don't ask for clarification. this could possibly be a multi-parter, haven't decided yet. my first (technically) eddie fic...... do not come for my throat, thanks. not beta-read, yada yada yada. divider by @/strangergraphics!!

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

“Oh, choke on it, Jason.”

“Maybe I’ll ask Mrs. Cowan for a replacement lab partner.”

Rolling your eyes, you resist the urge to fling your forkful of corn at him. “Hah! Please do. I’d rather stick my tongue down Eddie Munson’s throat and spend the weekend with mono than spend another blissful second trying to watch you figure out anatomy, dipshit.”

“Go do it then. I dare you.” Jason barks, nostrils flaring. He was going to call your bluff. There was no way that you were going to go over to that weird satanist’s table. Being more of a rocker, you weren’t posh and cute like Chrissy was, but you still had boundaries. And a good head on your shoulders. He knew you did. He hoped you did.

“Fine,” you snap, slamming both palms onto the table. “I hope you fail your science project.” Jason’s confident expression falls. Your rings scrape against the plastic as you push yourself up. With more determination than you’d had the entire semester, you swing both your legs over the bench and head for Eddie’s table, navigating around the other tables. The rest of his little dungeon buddies are already gawking at you as they’d been paying attention to the shouting. Confidently, you take a running leap up onto the table, and stomp your way down its length like a soldier marching towards enemy fire. The target, Eddie Munson, was staring at you with wide eyes and brows lifted.

“Outta my way.” The pointed tip of your boot sends an empty lunch tray flying off the table and clattering onto the floor.

“Hey, Munson!” You drop down onto your haunches, and now, eye-level with him, grab his face and pull it towards you, crushing your lips against his. The roll he’s holding drops from his grasp, falling lifelessly onto his tray. As soon as his plush lips press into yours, giving way to your tugging, your shoulders relax, melting into the kiss. You had been waiting for an excuse to get his attention since you’d sat down in your first class at Hawkins High, daydreaming about talking to him. You’d spent many a class period staring at Eddie’s lips, so you expected the kiss would be enjoyable… but not like this.

At first, both of your lips were closed, smushed together in the hurriedness of the moment, but when you exhale and his lips part, your tongue delves into his mouth, sweeping along his. To your surprise, he reciprocates the action, and presses his chin up into yours, asserting a new sort of need. Despondent groans and laughs of shock pepper the cafeteria around you, and from behind you, came the confusion of the other residents of the table. As you take Eddie Munson in literal mouthfuls, you felt something shift in him, and the noise started to fade away. You tilt your head, and push deeper into the kiss.

“Who the hell is she?” One of the boys asks, clearly as confused as everyone else was.

You shudder against him, feeling a burning heat between your legs, and immediately pull away to stand up, turning to face the far table. Jason was staring at you, looking more embarrassed than disgusted, but he did well hiding it with his scholarship scowl. You wipe the back of your hand across your mouth, drawing your — Eddie’s— the mutual saliva across your cheek. Triumphantly, you hold your arms out, daring the blonde haired moron to say anything further. He doesn’t. 

With a proud smirk on your face, you pivot back to Eddie, lips parted to speak, maybe to apologize to him for being so forward. All that comes out though, is the jarring echo of the lunch bell as it rings loudly through the cafeteria. You take that as an excuse to get out of the situation, and step down onto the bench between two of his little minions, then onto the floor. With your heart pounding in your chest like a drum, you make a beeline for the lockers. You’re practically running down the halls, and for what? To get away from Eddie? The guy you had just swapped spit with? And liked it?  

After shaking his head free of the shock, Eddie hurriedly bins his lunch and takes off after you, leaving the boys to their own devices. He was panting quietly once he’d finally caught up to you. “Hey, just wait a minute, okay?”

You say nothing, and keep digging in your locker for a book you knew wasn’t there. You’d left it at home, sitting on the edge of your bed. 

“Come on, you can’t just plant something like that on me and run away, man.” You hear a thump against the locker next to you, and out of the corner of your eye, see him leaning his shoulder into it. You huff and keep digging.

“You really think I’d give you mono?” He asks, sounding hurt.

Forcing your breath out through your teeth, you stop digging, and lean back to look at him. Those puppy eyes…

“No,” you say, feeling bad that he even heard that to begin with. You shut the locker. “I don’t. But the point was that I’d rather suffer with y— errr suffer any sort of wicked sickness than be even remotely happy around him.”

“So… why’d you stop? Was it that bad?”

“No, actually. It wasn’t. I stopped because I… um, the bell was going to ring.” That was a lie. You stopped because your beating heart had sunk between your legs. Kissing him was a massive turn-on, but you weren’t about to admit that.

“That it did…” he starts, absentmindedly playing with a strand of his own hair. “And now we’re late.”

You narrow your eyes. His brows flick upwards and the tip of his tongue presses pointedly into his lower lip, a little glimmer of mischief in his expression. Ready to prove him wrong, your eyes dart to the clock above the lockers, the visual causing you to curse under your breath. You hadn’t even heard the second bell, but he was right. Three minutes past. And Mr. Jenkins? Didn’t let anyone in after the bell rang. Fucker. Eddie shimmies closer, his soft, brown eyes falling to your lips. He was smiling, watching you and looking like he was daydreaming about having those soft lips against his again. 

“You wanna’... maybe show me what else you’d rather be doing than spending your time with brainless Ken dolls?”

You considered the offer for a moment. You had been pining after him since your first English class with him, and now… your split decision had thrown open the door to opportunity. When you’d tried to close it, Eddie had put his dirty white Reebok right in the way.

“Screw it, let’s go.” 

“Yeah?” He confirms, excited.

“Yeah.” 

Eddie wastes no time, taking hold of your hand as he passes you, towing you in the direction of the doors and out into the parking lot. 

How did you end up here? In retrospect; you’d probably have to thank Jason for pissing you off that day, in that particular way that really drove you over the edge. Because if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have been crawling into the back of Eddie Munson’s van while he stood behind you, looking at the gentle curve of your ass.

After throwing a cautious glance over his shoulder, making sure there weren’t any prying eyes watching the two of you, Eddie follows you inside and pulls the door shut behind him, the metal squeaking loudly. You sit down and cross your legs, resting against the interior wall. The inside of his van is warm, having baked in the sun all afternoon. Cassette tapes litter the floor behind the seats, and a Judas Priest shirt hangs over the headrest of the passenger seat. A few undisclosed cables are wadded up in the corner, you assume they were musical in nature. He seemed like the type. It’s exactly what you’d pictured his van to look like. 

Eddie clears his throat. “Sorry about the… mess.” 

You chuckle, looking brightly at him. “I don’t care. Plus, Judas Priest is rad. That song that came out last month… Turbo Lover? Gets stuck in my head all the time.” 

Delighted by this reaction, Eddie knee-walks over to you, that same mischievous smile on his face as before. He leans down, exhaling over your lips before looking into your eyes with a burning curiosity.

“Why were you sitting at his table anyway? You don’t seem like his type.” 

“His type? Gah, gross. No. We’re lab partners. Regrettably. Turns out, he’s kind of a massive dolt when it comes to science.” You pause and heave a sigh, your breath rushing out over his cheeks. He blinks. “I really don’t want to talk about Jason right now, Eddie.” 

“Oh yeah, totally.” With that, his hand snaps to your jaw, where he holds it gently, his thumb stroking your cheek. “You wanna’ makeout or something?” 

You can’t help but laugh, unsure if it’s because of the butterflies in your stomach, or because he’s kind of a dork. Smooth and very charming, but a dork all the same. You chalk it up to a combination of both and lean forward until the tips of your noses touch. “Yeah, Eddie, I wanna’ makeout. Again.”

This time, Eddie is the one to initiate the kiss. He presses his lips against yours softly a few times, your lips sticking together each time he pulls away. Relishing in the taste of you, he hums into the kiss, pressing himself closer to you. After a few moments, he breaks the kiss to readjust his position. The break is too long, it seems, because before you know it, he’s back to leaning over you and craning his neck down to kiss you from above. His hands drop to find your neck, his thumb trailing down over the front of it while the others stay tenderly wrapped around the side, squeezing slightly. The motion sends a deep shiver down your spine, reigniting the embers of your arousal. Eddie laughed breathily into the kiss. 

“Quite the reaction…” he murmurs over your lips.

“Oh, shuttup.” Your hand makes a fist in his shirt, pulling him back onto you. “Keep kissing me.” 

“As you wish.” He says dreamily, with lust woozying his speech. His voice is slightly deeper now, laced with hunger, and you whimper, pressing your knees together. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie notices this, and moves his free hand to your kneecaps, wriggling in between them to separate them. They fall apart with no resistance, and again, Eddie’s chuckle vibrates against your lips, sending a tickling wave over them. Your willingness almost embarrasses you, but when Eddie says nothing, only moves to slot himself in between your thighs, you realize that he’s into it. 

“No need to be shy here, princess. Just you and me.”

Your hands wrap around his neck, fingers splaying out over his back. “God, you’re cute.” 

“So are you.” 

“No, you’re really cute.” 

Eddie pulls away, furrowing his brow as if he’s confused. He is – he’s confused on whether or not you realize he thinks you’re a catch, too. You sense the confusion, and roll your hips up against his. His breath hitches in his throat, eyeing you pleadingly. It’s a warning – you can’t do things like that lest he lose control.  

“Uuughh,” you moan. “I don’t know why it took me this long to kiss you.” 

“Me neither.” 

He presses his lips against yours again, his tongue slipping past the two plush pillows, tasting the waxiness of your lipstick. Swiping his tongue along yours, he deepened the kiss, enticing you to join in a painfully erotic dance of spit-swapping. He exhales hotly over your mouth and grinds his hips against yours, groaning softly into your mouth. You grind back, knowing exactly what you’re doing. You can feel what you’re doing to him; it was currently pressed against your inner thigh. 

You reach down between your bodies, finding the warm bulge in the front of his black jeans and give him a soft squeeze. The sudden contact makes him lurch forward, crushing himself somehow further against you. He can’t get any closer to you without melting into your body which, in truth, makes him crazy. He makes a sound — something between a whine and a gasp — and ruts his hips against your center. The pressure has you reeling, pressing your back against the inside of the van. 

“Eddie, fuck…” 

“Yeah,” he echoes your sentiment, nodding his head so enthusiastically that his soft brown hair flutters. 

“Can I…?” 

He grins. “You can if I can. It’s only fair.” 

You let your legs fall farther apart, granting him access. With a newfound urgency, you quickly yank on his waistband, pull the silver button from its slit and maneuver your hand inside the elastic of his boxers. On the way down, you rake your fingers through the thatch of brown hair above his cock. Eddie responds by tightening his grip on your neck instinctively. The tips of your fingers find the searing hot head of his cock, precum leaking from the slit. With an audible mmmm, you swipe your thumb over it, smearing around the underside of the tip. Eddie hisses through his teeth, rutting his hips over and over again – forcing you to jerk him off a little. The tip slides through your fist, slippery and warm and you can’t help but let out a satisfied sound. 

“Wow,” you breathe, in awe. You weren’t sure what you expected, but feeling a cock this heavy wasn’t on the menu. You’d been with a few metalheads before, and they were all average at best. You thought he’d follow suit. Not heavy in your hand. But he is. God, he is. Eddie licks hungrily at your mouth before running his tongue along your bottom lip and taking it between his teeth, biting down slightly. You groan, pressing your head back against the wall. 

“Fuck, Eddie,” you say, breathlessly before squeezing his cock again. It twitches in your grip, hardening just a little bit further. You can feel the tension in his lower abdomen every time you slip your hand deeper into his boxers, tugging at his cock as you slide back up. 

His hands drop from your neck to your waist to your hips, his thumb making circles on the strip of exposed stomach flesh between your black leather skirt and your shirt. One hand sinks lower,  moving from your hip to your leg, sliding against the pillowy, cream soft flesh of your inner thigh.  It slides up your skirt, pressing against the nylons, and grazing your cunt from the outside. Inside his jeans, your hand starts to go slack, but Eddie quickly snaps you back to attention.

“I’m gonna’ need you to stay focused, baby. Don’t stop.”  

“S-sorry.” You pick up the pace, stroking his cock again at a much steadier speed. He lets out a soft groan, the feeling of your hand gently stroking his dick sending him into a haze of pleasure. But, he, too, has to focus. 

Eddie gets back to work, carefully undoing the zipper on the side of your skirt. He tugs, shimmying the skirt down over your hips and continues pulling until he pauses to pull your legs from the black circle, tossing it towards the van doors. Now, the only thing between him and your cunt is the fabric of your tights and your white satin underwear. You’re painfully aware of this fact and so is Eddie – the look on his face says it all. He sweeps you into another kiss. 

It’s almost as if he was using the kiss as a distraction from the adept way he’s rolling your nylons off your hips and down your thighs. You almost don’t feel it and don’t notice until he’s got them down around your ankles. 

“May I?” 

“May you? What is this –” You asked, trying to tease him, but your voice is so high pitched, so feathery with lust, that it just sounds ridiculous. You huff and nod, giving him whatever permission he felt he needed. 

His middle finger traces the visible slit in your underwear and embarrassingly, your whole body responds. From your legs snapping shut on his hand to the utterly humiliating moan that tumbled off your lips, there’s no coming back from that reaction. Eddie laughs quietly, almost devilishly and you relax your legs again. 

“Sorry, I’ve… I’ve been…. Um…” 

“Keep talkin’, sweetheart.”

“Oh god, fuck… I’ve kinda’ sorta’ had a thing for you since English with M–”

“Mrs. Lawrence? Last semester.” 

Your mouth hung slack. He knew? 

“You really thought you’d walk in, looking the way you do, and I wouldn’t remember?” 

Your stomach tightens underneath your shirt; butterflies are erupting beneath the skin. Any further jabs to your heart and they actually might rupture through your ribcage.

His finger sweeps along your center again, before hooking around the scalloped edge of the panties and pulling them down over the curve of your hip. A clear, slick strand stretches between your cunt and the fabric before snapping. Eddie growls, a deeply pleased sound erupting from his throat. 

Two fingers part your folds, sweeping tantalizingly at the underside of your clit before sliding down to your entrance. He prods the opening with his middle first, making tiny circles and spreading your arousal around your cunt. Finally, he inserts both fingers, sinking them to the knuckle. Moving his arm, you watch as the bats literally fly back and forth and let out a small, breathy laugh. The way he was working you felt so good, your hand instinctively tightened around his cock. Eddie shuffled closer, his knee in front of your cunt. Before you have time to react, Eddie abruptly takes hold of your left hand and brings it above your head, holding it tight against the wall of his van, his rings pressing into your fingers. Your digits tangle with his and he flays them open.

He continues thrusting his fingers in and out, watching your every move. You looked up and whined loudly; the sight of your smaller hand entangled with his larger one was divine, and sent another shockwave through your core. The coil in your stomach wound tighter, and tighter. Your body flushed with heat, and you were suddenly wishing you were naked underneath him. Eddie suddenly leans over you, pressing the side of his face against yours. 

“I’m your turbo lover…” He sings quietly in your ear, his tone honeyed and low, absolutely dripping with sex appeal. Your eyes roll back in your head, your jaw falling open. “...tell me there’s no other…” 

“Oh fuck, Eddie, oh my god-!”

At the singing, your needy pussy clenched around his digits, shivering violently. His thumb moves to your swollen, tender clit, rubbing it back and forth expertly. The coil snaps, and you moan loudly, banging your head against the wall a few times. 

“OH MY GOD!” 

You shouldn’t have found it so hot, but the way he sung the lyrics into your ear sent a wave of electricity through your entire body. As the sound of your moans reach his ears, Eddie groans and bucks his hips rhythmically, pumping himself closer to the edge of orgasm. 

After a few more pumps from you, his back arches and he groans your name – another surprise that he knows that – as his hot, sticky release coats your fingers as wave after wave of pleasure surges through him. The flushed, pink tip was exposed enough that when he does finally lose it, the first spurts of cum find their way onto your shirt. He doesn’t notice right away, still thrusting his hips into your loose fist. Finally, he brings his head forward to look at you again. His chest is heaving, panting from the exertion, and his eyes trail from your face down to your shirt. The wanton look is replaced with one of horror. 

“Jesus, I’m sorry! Here uh,” Eddie paused, stretching over to yank the shirt from the seat. “Wear this. I promise it’s clean. Decently… uh… clean.” 

You didn’t care if it wasn’t. The fact that he had given you his shirt because he accidentally came on yours was single handedly the cutest thing you’d ever had a guy do for you. You withdrew your hand from his boxers, and he let go of your other hand. Quickly, you pulled your shirt over your head and wadded it up in a ball, setting it next to you. His shirt was baggy, but you quickly remedy that by tying the front in a knot. The way that Eddie’s eyes skirted over your breasts wasn’t lost on you. You smirk. 

“Think Mr. Jenkins noticed we were both gone?” He asks as you fluff your hair. 

“Probably. F’s for both of us.” 

Eddie smiles.

You look down at the shirt, trying to talk your blushing cheeks down. “I’ll give this back to you. Remind me.” 

“Sure,” he says, not fully convinced he wants it back. He likes the idea of you wearing his shirt around school. A dirty little reminder of what occurred. “You should come to one of our meetings.” 

“Meetings?” You ask, quirking a brow. 

“Yeah,” he says, plucking his shirt. Your eyes drift down to the red, snarling demon on his chest. The words Hellfire Club crown the demon, decorated with medieval looking weapons.

“Right, right. Dungeons and Dragons… I’ve never played it.”

“I’ll teach you, sweetheart. Don’t worry.” 

[PART TWO HERE]

[werepuppy-steve]

G | 753 words

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles' prompt: graduation tags: emma verse, modern au, famous corroded coffin, steddie being over the top parents

tagging some of the emma fans: @steves-strapcollection @tboygareth @patchworkgargoyle @steddieas-shegoes @theheadlessphilosopher

@worstsequence @hammity-hammer

"Does she know where we're sitting?" Eddie asks as they shuffle down the rows of plastic seats, his bulky digital camera hanging around his neck by the strap.

(Eddie wanted to bring their tour photographer, Cody, but Steve had to gently remind him that the school already had one hired. Eddie only sulked for an hour.)

Steve levels him a look. "If she doesn't see us, then she'll spot one of these goons and follow the line." He points over his shoulder to their accompanying party.

Wayne is directly behind him, followed by Robin and Chrissy. Jeff, Gareth, Freak, and the kids shuffle in behind them. As much as Eddie doesn’t like flaunting his celebrity status around, he had to call ahead the week before to request an entire row to be reserved just to fit all of them.

His baby is graduating kindergarten, he'll be damned if he doesn't pull out all the stops. They’re even having a little graduation party for her at the house afterwards—a backyard BBQ with everyone and the rest of the tour crew and family who couldn't make it to the ceremony.

Not long after everyone is seated, Pomp and Circumstance crackles out of the loudspeakers and the kids start to walk down the aisle in pairs. It's definitely not perfect, some kids take too-eager steps and some stop to hug their parents, but the teachers do their best to guide them.

Steve starts recording with his phone the second they spot Emma, the digital chime of Eddie's camera shutter clicking away beside him. Her curls are barely tamed in the side pony she asked Eddie to put it in, but it matches the whole 'rocker' vibe she's got going on.

Amongst the sea of summer dresses and pressed toddler slacks, their little girl is wearing her black denim battle vest over a light purple Hannah Montana shirt Steve had gotten at a yard sale, with a pale blue frilly tutu and a pair of silver glitter leggings and her black boots.

She looks nervous, though. Tense. Her shoulders are drawn up and her hands are clasped in front of her. Brown eyes dart this way and that around the room trying to spot a familiar face in the crowd and it breaks Steve's heart to watch his kid be so anxious. Her teacher said she did great at practice yesterday, but that was without the fifty pairs of eyes on her.

Mike is sitting on the end and she finds him easily, her eyes lighting up in recognition, but there's still a worried crease between her eyebrows that doesn't smooth out until she's locking eyes with her dads. She gives them a tiny wave as she walks by.

They both give her encouraging thumbs up and Eddie wishes he could just snatch her up and run out of the building with her.

They eventually get all the kids filed in and the principal stands behind the podium on the stage to welcome everyone. She goes through the awards first (Emma receives one for reading above her grade level, something that Eddie is very proud of) before the kids line back up to receive their little diplomas.

Halfway through the list, Eddie suddenly elbows Steve. "Shit, I didn't hear her name, did we miss her?"

His phone is still recording. "Dude, her last name is M, we're still in the J's."

"Oh, right."

Emma's class is only about 50 or so kids so it doesn't really take that long to get to her name, but Steve and Eddie are still vibrating with the anticipation.

"Emma Munson."

Immediately, their entire entourage is up on their feet and cheering and yelling. It's way too loud for the cafeteria setting they're in, and it echos, and you can definitely tell which of them are in the famous metal band.

Emma's little cheeks turn the same color as her glasses but her grin is big and wide as she holds her certificate in front of her for the picture. Both Steve and Eddie are rapid fire pressing the shutter buttons on their cameras.

Once she's off the stage, the principal clears her throat. "A reminder to please hold all applause until the end of the ceremony, thank you." She gives them a not-so-subtle glare over the rims of her own glasses.

Sheepishly, their group sits back down and is quiet once more.

"We're gonna be worse during her eighth grade graduation, right?" Steve whispers to Eddie.

"Oh, absolutely. She'll want to kill us afterwards."

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Second Chances

Written for @steddieangstyaugust challenge, day 1.

The world was dying. Not just Hawkins, but the whole world, invaded by the creatures of the Upside Down, the particles that made people sick, killed crops, infected water...if it wasn't the end, then it was damn close.

Steve often thought about the moment everything went to shit. Even when Barb died, when Bob died, when the whole mall burned down, there was at least a shred of hope. Even when Chrissy got lifted in the air and her limbs broke like an unwanted doll, there was a plan, something to do. A chance to make things right for the rest of them. It wasn't difficult to pinpoint the point of no return - Eddie dying.

Here was the thing. Steve didn't really believe in time travel, and he was way too high on the Russian truth serum to even consider what it would entail if it ever proved to be true.

Lo and behold, the Hawkins lab of 1990, infected by the creeping decay of the Upside Down, made it possible. Steve found himself transported back to the day of their failed mission to kill Henry. But not just normally transported - inserted into the mind of his younger self, one that wasn't scarred, limping, and on the verge of giving up. And that was great. Steve thrived when he had something to do, and keeping Eddie alive was something to do.

He didn't really care about his real time. If erasing his present meant saving Murray from getting torn in half, Jonathan and Nancy nearly bleeding out, Robin losing her eyesight, and always seeing Dustin's blank, hopeless stare, well. That was fine. He hated to see people he loved suffer. Hence the operation "Save Munson from his heroic awakening and keeping that stupid walkman intact."

It should have been easy. He prepared everyone. He told Eddie what would happen. He instructed Lucas and Erica to ensure Max lived too. He explained that Eddie wouldn't make a difference, but Dustin would mourn him forever and never recover. Eddie nodded, agreed.

Max was saved.

And Eddie got fucking killed again.

Steve got snapped back to the portal in his present with angry tears still in his eyes. "Oh no, you don't!" he muttered and dove in again. The combined mission of "save Max and Eddie" was now just "make Eddie stop dying."

He tried sending Eddie to the Creel house in his place. Explained again, with more detail. But did that rocker wannabe asshole listen? No! The first rustle of demobat wings and he was back, being torn to shreds.

No. That wouldn't do. Again.

Dustin had tried explaining time loops to Steve, but even in his limited understanding, he didn't consider this one. He wasn't trapped anywhere, fucking Eddie Munson was trapped there with him, in a repeated self-worth session that went "self-destruction is a no-no."

Still, he kept dying. And Steve kept trying. No one was going to out-stubborn Steve Harrington.

And finally, one miraculous day, it worked out. Eddie didn't die, Steve did. He felt the familiar "whoosh" of being dragged to his real time, terrified but excited to see what awaited him after, and then...

Then he was back at their makeshift camp in March 1986.

Steve didn't understand. He was staring at the all too familiar scene when a calloused hand grabbed his shoulder and dragged him away. "A word, your majesty."

"Munson, what the-!"

It was Eddie, of course. He'd seen him so many times, talked to him so often, learned about his life, his childhood, his love for Wayne...but there was something different this time. Eddie's eyes seemed much older.

"I know what you're trying to do here, Harrington, and it isn't happening, hear me?" he hissed, and Steve finally understood what seemed so off.  Eddie always looked scared, no matter which attempt, no matter Steve's words or actions. But now, Eddie Munson seemed determined. Angry.

Steve shook off his hand. "What do you mean not happening, Munson?" he whispered, fighting for the last shred of self-control. "Saving the future, that isn't happening? Huh?"

Suddenly, his head snapped back. It took him a good moment to understand that Eddie hit him. "Is that what you call it?!" Eddie hissed back, then snuck a quick glance at the rest of their group. Fortunately no one noticed yet. "Do you even know what you did, Harrington? You fucking died. And everything went to shit."

Glaring at Eddie, Steve rubbed at his sore cheek. "You want to talk about things going to shit?! Do you even know what happens after you die?! People get hurt. People lose hope. And Dustin has never recovered, so there! You have to stay alive no matter what."

Eddie threw his head back and laughed, but it had no joy in it. "Oh really. Well, have you spared a single thought about how he feels, knowing you died to fix the past? How Robin feels?! Do you think that everyone is alive in the future you have so graciously created?! No, Steven. Things are shit and can't be unshitted."

That gave Steve a pause. "Wait.  What do you mean, everyone isn't alive? Who died?"

Eddie scowled at him and crossed his arms. "I'm not telling you. Let's just agree that the future when I'm dead is the better one. Deal?"

"No fucking deal." Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, frowning at the forest ground. "What the hell, man. This was supposed to fix things! Even with Max alive, it's still the same?"

"Yep. Not just the same. Worse. I don't know how to explain it, but...they just need you. Without you, it doesn't work."

"Well, without you it doesn't work either!" Steve spat back. "What am I supposed to do now?"

Eddie shrugged. "I don't know. If things go to shit, the portal will activate anyway, right? So one of us will make it there, if at least one of us lives. So how about we both try to live this time?"

Sighing, Steve nodded. "I've tried everything else, so we might as well. As long as you stop sabotaging my future fixing or whatever by dying."

Eddie grinned and offered Steve his hand, knuckles still red from punching Steve. "Shake on it. No pointless heroisms!"

"If you can keep your word, I'll keep mine, Munson."

...

It wasn't on their first try, not even on the tenth or twentieth. One of them would always found themselves at the portal, jump in, repeat.

And then, by pure chance and a truck load of luck...they lived.

Well, their younger selves did.

Steve sat down on the grimy dead grass of the Upside Down, his limbs heavy. "I think we did it," he told Eddie as he landed next to him. "Something changed."

"Yep. I think..." Eddie trailed off, his voice quieter, weaker. "I think we avoided our futures. Which both sucked, by the way. But that also means..."

"It means we don't exist either," nodded Steve. "I thought so. We'll be gone soon, I guess." He leaned against Eddie, slumping against his shoulder. "It was an honor saving the world with you, Munson."

Eddie laid his head over Steve's nodding. "Likewise, Harrington. I'm kinda bummed we won't see the new future. But I sure hope it's a better one."

Closing their eyes, they let the time take its course.

...

In the new 1990, Eddie Munson woke up next to his boyfriend, Steve Harrington. It was the favorite part of his week, the one free day they shared, when they could cuddle and trade lazy kisses. Eddie was a hedonist by nature, and while he did his best to understand Steve's morning runs, he managed to persuade him that after saving the world, they deserved the one peaceful day only for themselves.

Steve was quiet that morning, and Eddie, always the inquisitive one, had to ask. "What's on your mind, love?"

"I just keep thinking about...you know. That day in March," whispered Steve, running his fingers through Eddie's hair. "I still don't remember it. You don't. But everyone else does. I'm just wondering if it's just a coincidence, that we blanked out and everything went just right."

Eddie smiled at him, but his eyes were serious. "I try not to think about it much," he admitted. "I don't want to jinx it, what we have. I won't look the gift dragon in the mouth. I'd like to think we were possessed by a divine inspiration or something."

Steve snorted and pulled him closer. "What, like angels?"

"Sure. We were possessed by our guardian angels and they made sure we'd survive, fix the world...and have this. Us."

Laughing, Steve pulled Eddie into a kiss. "I'll take it. Guardian angels, wherever you are and if you even exist...thank you."

Eddie snuggled closer and nodded into Steve's hair. "Thank you for everything."

[puppy-stevee]

G | 753 words

originally written and posted for @steddieholidaydrabbles' 2023 prompt: graduation tags: emma verse, modern au, famous corroded coffin, steddie being over-the-top parents

tagging some of the emma fans: @dangerous-disposition @tboybuck @patchworkgargoyle @steddieas-shegoes @theheadlessphilosopher

@worstsequence @hammity-hammer

“Does she know where we’re sitting?” Eddie asks as they shuffle down the rows of plastic seats, his bulky digital camera hanging around his neck by the strap.

(Eddie wanted to bring their tour photographer, Cody, but Steve had to gently remind him that the school already had one hired. Eddie only sulked for an hour.)

Steve levels him a look. “If she doesn’t see us, then she’ll spot one of these goons and follow the line.” He points over his shoulder to their accompanying party.

Wayne is directly behind him, followed by Robin and Chrissy. Jeff, Gareth, Freak, and the kids shuffle in behind them. As much as Eddie doesn’t like flaunting his celebrity status around, he had to call ahead the week before to request an entire row to be reserved just to fit all of them.

His baby is graduating kindergarten, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t pull out all the stops. They’re even having a little graduation party for her at the house afterwards—a backyard BBQ with everyone and the rest of the tour crew and family who couldn’t make it to the ceremony.

Not long after everyone is seated, Pomp and Circumstance crackles out of the loudspeakers and the kids start to walk down the aisle in pairs. It’s definitely not perfect, some kids take too-eager steps and some stop to hug their parents, but the teachers do their best to guide them.

Steve starts recording with his phone the second they spot Emma, the digital chime of Eddie’s camera shutter clicking away beside him. Her curls are barely tamed in the side pony she asked Eddie to put it in, but it matches the whole ‘rocker’ vibe she’s got going on.

Amongst the sea of summer dresses and pressed toddler slacks, their little girl is wearing her black denim battle vest over a light purple Hannah Montana shirt Steve had gotten at a yard sale, with a pale blue frilly tutu and a pair of silver glitter leggings and her black boots.

She looks nervous, though. Tense. Her shoulders are drawn up and her hands are clasped in front of her. Brown eyes dart this way and that around the room trying to spot a familiar face in the crowd and it breaks Steve’s heart to watch his kid be so anxious. Her teacher said she did great at practice yesterday, but that was without the fifty pairs of eyes on her.

Mike is sitting on the end and she finds him easily, her eyes lighting up in recognition, but there’s still a worried crease between her eyebrows that doesn’t smooth out until she’s locking eyes with her dads. She gives them a tiny wave as she walks by.

They both give her encouraging thumbs up and Eddie wishes he could just snatch her up and run out of the building with her.

They eventually get all the kids filed in and the principal stands behind the podium on the stage to welcome everyone. She goes through the awards first (Emma receives one for reading above her grade level, something that Eddie is very proud of) before the kids line back up to receive their little diplomas.

Halfway through the list, Eddie suddenly elbows Steve. “Shit, I didn’t hear her name, did we miss her?”

His phone is still recording. “Dude, her last name is M, we’re still in the J’s.”

“Oh, right.”

Emma’s class is only about 50 or so kids so it doesn’t really take that long to get to her name, but Steve and Eddie are still vibrating with the anticipation.

“Emma Munson.”

Immediately, their entire entourage is up on their feet and cheering and yelling. It’s way too loud for the cafeteria setting they’re in, and it echos, and you can definitely tell which of them are in the famous metal band.

Emma’s little cheeks turn the same color as her glasses but her grin is big and wide as she holds her certificate in front of her for the picture. Both Steve and Eddie are rapid fire pressing the shutter buttons on their cameras.

Once she’s off the stage, the principal clears her throat. “A reminder to please hold all applause until the end of the ceremony, thank you.” She gives them a not-so-subtle glare over the rims of her own glasses.

Sheepishly, their group sits back down and is quiet once more.

“We’re gonna be worse during her eighth grade graduation, right?” Steve whispers to Eddie.

“Oh, absolutely. She’ll want to kill us afterwards.”

buy me a ☕?

[skepsiss]

For the @steddiesummerexchange to @stevesjockstrap!

Batter Up: Chapter 2 of 5

Read [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3]

Rated: Explicit

Summary: This fluffy story is about Baseball Player Steve Harrington, meeting Rock Star Eddie Munson and the whirlwind 1-week romance turned committed relationship. They're instantly obsessed with one another, but neither knows how to take things to the next level. Enjoy Steve being a love-sick idiot! (The story turns explicit in Chapter 4, other chapters are all fluff). In this chapter, we get to read Eddie's POV and how obsessed he is with Steve, too. Chrissy is here to cheer him on.

Read Chapter 2 below, or [read it on Ao3]

Big thank you to @thefreakandthehair for beta reading for me and helping me with my NBA terms!

Graphic made by me!

”I want to bite his ass like it’s a fucking apple,” Eddie gritted out, his hands tense and clawing at the air as he seemingly held back unfathomable amounts of sexual tension. “Gross!” Chrissy trilled, bouncing the squash ball in her hand against the ground to warm it up. “You don’t need to be so crass, Eddie.” “You don’t understand—” Eddie hissed, sitting forward in his seat as he spoke to Chrissy through the plexiglass. She gave him an unimpressed look, saying ‘really’ silently with a twisted lip and a raised brow. “Okay, you understand— just! He’s so fucking hot, and I swear to fucking God if he lets me near him, I’m going to go berserk,” Eddie groaned, sighing dramatically as he bounced his leg. “Don’t you have a date tomorrow?” Chrissy asked, squeezing the little black ball in her hand a few times before casually starting to bounce it against her racket. “That’s the problem! Chrissy! Jesus Christ—he’s like… fucking Adonis. How am I—I clam up like a Mongolian death worm every time he gets near me. I can’t—I can’t even get close to laying the moves on him ‘cause I’m, like, fucking useless. It isn’t even a date tomorrow. It’s like a poorly concealed, deep-fake, seduction attempt. I don’t know! You know I’m fucking useless at actually flirting with guys unless I’m off my fucking rocker, high out of my mind,” Eddie lamented, finally standing up and beginning to pace. Chrissy’s shoes squeaked on the floor as she served and started to play a single game of squash by herself. She was listening, Eddie knew she was, this was sort of par for the course with them. He was on Chrissy’s time, and he wasn’t going to complain about being stuck inside a squash court with his best friend, even if it smelt like an old sock. 

Alright, maybe he would complain a little bit.

“But we’re not—” Chrissy puffed, exerting herself as she kept up the conversation, “—going to get high—right?”

“No, I’m not going to get high,” Eddie groaned, feeling his fingers twitch against his leg. He had given drugs up—or at least he hoped he had—but that didn’t mean that it made existing without them easy. “I don’t want to depend on drugs to flirt, I just—I wish I was starting out with a smaller-fry, you know? First big thing out of rehab, and I’m smacked in the face with Steve Harrington? Why didn’t you tell me about him earlier? He’s just—-ugh! Chrissy!” Eddie whined, his stature devolving as he crumpled to his knees on the squishy floor. 

“Not my fault—you refused every invite—to baseball before—now,” Chrissy retorted, the bang of the ball against the wall making it a bit difficult to hear her. “You didn’t tell me my fucking Achilles heel of men existed in cotton spandex pants, and a baseball cap,” Eddie complained, crawling back over to the bench to pull himself up onto it. “He looks so fucking good, Chrissy. God… it’s like the gods sculpted his ass and put it inside white sheets woven from the strings of fate itself.” Chrissy missed the swing and puffed, putting her hands on her hips as she caught her breath. “You’re really….” she sighed, finally looking over at Eddie and smiling at him, “... into this guy, Eddie. You going to write poetry for all the boys you get a crush on? It’s pretty cute, actually.” “Don’t call me cute,” Eddie huffed, rolling his face toward the bench to hide from Chrissy. “I just… don’t want to fuck this up, Cece…”

Eddie heard the door to the squash court open and the muted sound of Chrissy’s shoes against the mats. It didn’t take long for her to get to the bench and sit down with him, her fingers instantly in his hair. It was soothing, and Eddie only resisted for a moment before he inched forward and put his head in her lap. 

“You won’t mess it up…” Chrissy repeated, tailoring her reply so she wasn’t swearing as well. Chrissy was sweet, and Eddie was no stranger to this sort of kindness from her. They had dated, once upon a time, and Eddie could confidently say that Chrissy was the only person he had been with that he had really loved. He still loved her, even though they weren’t together, and he didn’t think he could ever not love Chrissy Cunningham, but the attraction they had once shared was void now. They just weren’t meant to be romantic, but Eddie knew that losing that intimacy with Chrissy had destroyed his heart. Still, he was more than grateful to have her as a friend. No one knew him better than Chrissy, and he didn’t hold out hope for them to get back together. It had been the drugs that had broken them up, but it had been Chrissy’s confession that she was more attracted to women that had kept them apart. 

He didn’t begrudge her, but Eddie had never been able to shake the feeling that he had been the one to fuck everything up for them. That it was his shortcomings that had poked holes into an already sinking ship. He was great at that kind of stuff— an expert at ruining a good thing. 

“I don’t know… if I’m ready,” Eddie confessed, his necklaces clinking together as he rested his head on Chrissy’s thighs. 

“Ready for what?” Chrissy asked, her voice gentle as she continued to pet his hair away. “A relationship…” Eddie sighed. He had been single for years now and had only really pursued flings or one-night stands. Even then, he had gotten out of rehab a few months ago and he hadn’t even tried to hook up with anyone since getting out. It was too intimidating to flirt when he didn’t have drugs to rely on, and now he was being blindsided by the prospect that he didn’t just want to sleep with Steve. 

“You really like this guy, huh?” Chrissy smiled, her tone so caring it made Eddie’s heart ache. 

He hid again, rolling his face into the crisp white of Chrissy’s uniform. She looked tooth-achingly sweet in it, and Eddie only let himself feel a little bad for getting eyeliner on her skirt. 

“Oh, Eddie…” Chrissy lamented, still petting his head. “You’re allowed to want things, sugar.”

Eddie let out a held breath, his fingers clenching at the soft fabric of Chrissy’s outfit. “But what… if I fuck it up?” He asked again, the fear edging into his voice as he let himself get vulnerable. “How would you mess it up?” Chrissy asked, sounding more like a mother than someone Eddie’s own age. “I don’t know,” Eddie whined, “open my mouth and speak? Show him the fact that I’m a giant fucking nerd with an ego the size of Australia and daddy issues that span the Atlantic Ocean?” 

“You’re being dramatic,” Chrissy sighed, her tone remaining gentle. “Even if that was true, if he doesn’t like or well… accept that kind of stuff about you, he’s not going to be a very good boyfriend.”

Eddie groaned softly, knowing that Chrissy was right, but hating the idea that they could just not work out, and he would have to let go of the idea of Steve Harrington. “What if… he’s just looking for something… short term?” Eddie questioned, feeling his heart and stomach clench in unison. “Well, then you get at least one great night of sex with playboy, Steve Harrington,” Chrissy replied matter-of-factly.

“Chrissy!” Eddie gasped, lifting his head to look at her. He was only mildly scandalized that she would say something forward like that, but he amped up his reaction to get a smile out of her. 

“Lots of ladies are frothing at the mouth to get a date with him, you know,” she continued, grinning. “And you’ve gotten, what? Four dates in the last week?” Eddie breathed a laugh and put his head back down, smiling at her reassurances. She was right. They had been flirting pretty relentlessly, and Eddie was certain Steve was interested in him. So, for flirting to extend over the course of a week… that had to mean Steve wanted more than just a fling, right? 

“You really think I have a shot with him?” Eddie asked, his voice quiet as he turned the idea of just kissing Steve over in his mind. 

“I really think you do,” Chrissy concluded, tugging Eddie’s earlobe until he hissed and sat up. “You’re a catch, Eddie.” He smiled bashfully at her and looked away, rubbing his ear. “Really,” Chrissy offered, patting his thigh. “If you’re just you, really you, without any of the fame or drugs or anything like that… he has to fall for you. If he already likes you enough to ask you out, I have no doubt that he’ll like the real you, Eddie.” 

Eddie frowned, still unable to look at Chrissy as she placated him with compliments. The worst part of it was that he knew she meant it. They weren’t in love, but he loved her. “You’re succeeding in helping my ego take over New Zealand, too,” Eddie teased, sniffing as he tried to hide how touched he was by Chrissy’s comment. She gave his thigh a good pat and then stood up, tucking the frills of her skort behind her as she walked back toward the squash court. 

“Who knows, Eddie,” Chrissy chimed, “maybe this is the makings of real love.” She flashed him a little smile and then slipped back into the court, picking her racket up and starting to warm the ball again. 

Eddie blinked at her, and then slowly felt his cheeks flush as he took those words in. Real love, huh? He really liked the idea of falling in love with Steve. 

Chapter 3

[faketrex]

FirstPrince, 12

Thank you, Chrissy! 💝 For prompt number 12, "the beach at ten on a Monday morning."

RWRB, canon divergence: different first meeting, set in April 2016 (nearly a year after Arthur's death but still before Rio, and well before the first Claremont Election Day).

...

If Henry had been thinking ahead, he might not have adopted a puppy immediately before fleeing the country for a week.

His Royal Highness Prince Henry will undertake a Spring Tour of French Basque Country. This will include visits to…, per Royal Communications.

Translated, Unfortunately, HRH Prince Henry would have gone irretrievably off his bloody rocker if he had spent one second more suffocating in Kensington Palace’s gray cloud of mourning. Therefore, he's going away to convalesce by the sea for a tick. Best of luck to him.

Hopefully, a week in Biarritz will set him to rights. He'll return freed of the temptation to smash vases and tea settings and any number of priceless stolen artifacts for the sole purpose of eliciting any reaction other than pity.

David the puppy may yet have a penchant for breaking things, but he's cute enough to get away with it. Henry had grown out of such a forgiving stage years earlier.

At ten a.m. on a chilly Monday morning in April, the Plage de la Côte des Basques is nearly empty. It's too cold to swim, in Henry's opinion. David doesn't care; he bounds across the sand where the waves crest and crash onto the beach, zig-zagging on his lead and getting soaked in the process. Although he's much too small to swim, he's adept at making himself thoroughly wet and sandy and sharing those conditions with Henry by shaking his tiny body to fling water over Henry's rolled-up trousers.

Watching David play, it's easy to almost forget how he'd woken Henry appallingly early after a near-sleepless night–Henry's, that is. Henry had lain awake until four in the morning, staring at the ceiling. All the while, David had slept peacefully in his dog bed, curled next to a plush toy. He had woken Henry at seven a.m. without the slightest hint of remorse.

Luckily, he's adorable.

When they return to Henry's spot on the sand, he sits and wraps David in a towel, settling him on his lap to keep him warm. Aside from the waves, the seagulls, and the chatter from surfers carrying their boards across the sand, the beach is quiet.

Henry feels muzzy with fatigue and his heart aches, still, as it has for the past eleven months, but it doesn't overwhelm him. For once, the ache is more sore than sharp.

"Hey, can I say hi to your puppy?"

The boy is standing several meters away, likely in deference to the dark-suited PPO lurking nearby. He's close enough for Henry to get a good look at him, though: dark curls hanging in dripping ringlets over his forehead, a black wetsuit bearing the stylized blue wave logo of one of the surf schools, a sharp square jawline. The grin on his face doesn't once falter while Henry looks him over.

Despite the persistent ache, Henry feels his heartbeat quicken. He might be several meters away, but that's nothing, really; he's not so far that Henry can't recognize the danger.

A boy like that could set him on fire.

David wriggles in his lap, grumbling, and the boy's smile widens.

Henry should turn him away.

"Yes," he says instead. "But you'd better have a seat so that I can hold his lead. He's a very good boy, but he's rather excited to be at the beach today."

"Cool," the boy says, dropping unceremoniously onto the sand within reach of Henry's blanket. "I'm Alex."

"Henry."

The moment of realization as Alex connects Henry's name to his face to, presumably, his status as a figurehead-in-training, is painfully obvious: Alex's expression melts from friendly interest, to surprise, to hesitance.

It was too much to hope that Alex wouldn't recognize him. His accent sounds American, but that's no matter. Even Americans aren't unaware of the unfortunate persistence of the British monarchy. There's no denying that Henry has a famous face; if the monarchy hadn't cursed him to that, being Arthur Fox's son would have sufficed. Still, he wouldn't give up being his father's son for any of it.

Henry sticks out his chin a little and doesn't look away. "I'm Henry," he repeats. "And… this is David."

Alex keeps staring at him, but slowly, oh-so slowly, one of his eyebrows creeps upward. "Henry and David, huh? Are you two planning a hostile takeover of the fruit basket industry?"

It's nothing like any reaction that Henry could have expected, no mention of the Queen or James Bond. There's no pity on Alex's face, either, just the hint of a sly smile accented by the sheen of drying seawater. "I–what?"

"It's–you know, like Harry and David?"

"I'm afraid I don't," Henry says, unwrapping David's towel and setting him down, dry and slightly fluffy, on the sand between them. "And I said Henry, not Harry."

"What a waste of a great joke," Alex complains, but his grin has fully returned–at David's antics, surely.

"You should consider yourself lucky to meet him now, in fact. David is going to grow up to be an international rock star."

"Oh, yeah?" Alex holds one hand still while David gives it a thorough sniff.

"Exactly right," Henry affirms. "In the footsteps of Bowie."

"David Beagle Bowie, huh? That's fucking cute."

A sea cure, really. Henry has always been an Austen fan, but the dream of convalescence had only been a dark joke. But perhaps–well, he can't help but wonder.

And Alex, for his part, seems in no hurry to leave.

[thatliminal-wanderer]

Rock Music ID Pack

Requested by Anonymous

Names

Abby, Ace, Adam, Adrian, Aero, Alex, Alice, Angus, Ann, Anthony, Avril, Axl, Bill, Billie, Billy, Bohemia, Bon, Brad, Brian, Bruce, Charlie, Cher, Chester, Chrissie, Christine, Cliff, Danny, Dave, David, Don, Duff, Dusty, Eddie, Eric, Fleetwood, Florance, Floyd, Frank, Freddie, Geddy, Geezer, Gene, George, Ginger, Glenn, Gregg, Halen, Hayley, Helena, Iggy, Izzy, Jack, Jimi, Jimmy, Joe, John, Keith, Krist, Kurt, Larry, Liam, Lindsey, Mac, Malcolm, Maynard, Micheal, Mick, Mitch, Nancy, Neal, Neil, Nick, Nicko, Nicky, Noel, Ozzy, Paul, Pear, Pete, Peter, Phil, Randy, Rick, Ringo, Robert, Roger, Ronnie, Rosa, Rose, Sabbath, Serj, Steve, Steven, Stevie, Thom, Tim, Tom, Tony, Zack, Zeppelin

Pronouns

aero/aeros, beat/beats, black/blacks, blink/blinks, chili/chilis, crash/crashes, cream/creams, cure/cures, door/doors, dru/drum/drums, eagle/eagles, electric/electrics, guitar/guitars, gun/guns, heart/hearts, hot/hots, iron/irons, jam/jams, journey/journeys, kiss/kisses, loud/louds, machine/machines, maiden/maidens, metal/metals, music/musics, nirvana/nirvanas, oasis/oasis’, pearl/pearls, pepper/peppers, pink/pinks, queen/queens, radio/radios, rage/rages, red/reds, reverb/reverbs, rhy/rhythm/rhythms, riff/riffs, rock/rocks, rose/roses, rush/rushes, scorpion/scorpions, scream/screams, shred/shreds, stone/stones, vocal/vocals, yell/yells, 🎵/🎵s, 🎶/🎶s, 🎸/🎸s, 💥/💥s, 📹/📹s, 🔊/🔊s, 🔋/🔋s, 🔌/🔌s, 🗯️/🗯️s, 🤘/🤘s, 🧑🏻‍🎤/🧑🏻‍🎤s

Titles

A Rock Fan, A Rock Lover, A Rock Producer, A Rock Song, A Song With Loud Noises, Lover of Rock and Roll, The Drummer, The Guitarist, The Hard Rocker, The Headbanger, The Rock Fan, The Rock Musician, [prn] Inviting You to a Concert, [prn] Who Listens to Rock

Genders

Aggrorockvolic, Bassgender, Bassguitagender, Delinqxenifemasc, Drumgender, Guitargender, Guitarweaponic, Rockcothrillic, Rockfem, Rockgender, Sleepyguitaric

Other mogai

Aldembodirock, Alderguitar, Aldermusicae, Musicperspesque, Musictasteperspesque, Musicvior, Musivesil

[corset]

Tagged by @nintendog to spell my url in song titles Coffin Love // The Dolly Rocker Movement

Of All Desperations // Corpus Delicti

Reptile // Tragic Black

Sugar // Chrissy Chlapecka

Ego Death // Polyphia

The Profit of Doom // Type O Negative

I'll tag: @ishinmaiden @axebizarre @mobbit @acidgirl @mortimer

@draculizing @fandaniel @wife @patrol @day

Thank you very much for tagging me :3

[lovemewednesdays]

wip wednesday.

If it wasn't for the light glinting of one of his rings, Chrissy wouldn't have even looked over. She didn't stop at first, either — it was just Wes, the manager, talking to a guy at a front table. This wasn't unusual; Wes liked to do business for the club out in the open, told people that was how they knew he was honest. (Never mind that everyone knew he did business for himself in the back.) Curly hair hid the stranger's face from her, but he looked like every other 80s rocker wannabe she passed on the street these days. It wasn't until she saw the bat tattoos peaking out of his sleeves that she froze. Eddie Munson. In LA. In her club.

[ebongawk]

129 for the meme!

129. “I told you I’d come home to you.”

It was the longest they'd ever been apart.

In the past, any of Eddie's tours had been short stints. Corroded Coffin's label called it strategy, pushing them into short stints as an opening show for larger, more well-known bands in order to give them a dedicated following that screamed for more.

Eddie had complained endlessly about the exploitation of it all. I mean, Christ, Cunningham, they're basically just leading us into the gallows by a string!

And, for awhile, it did kinda seem like that. But, after a few tours like that, the band started selling merch.

Then selling more merch.

Then selling out of merch.

Then they had to stop doing meet-and-greets because they were being swarmed, and that was when the label finally gave them a permanent opening slot for the back half of the North American tour with Soundgarden.

Freaking Soundgarden!

(Whether or not Chrissy knew who Soundgarden was prior to this was secondary.)

They'd started on the west coast, which had been extraordinarily convenient, since Chrissy could make the shows near their Oceanside home. Strategically picking days where her classes weren't necessarily important.

Then, as they'd moved further away, Chrissy had been confined to their apartment. To her semester finals and the library and a boyfriend she only got to talk to maybe once a day.

It was such an amazing opportunity, and he and the band had worked so incredibly hard to get where they were. Chrissy was unimaginably proud of him, even as the distance cut into their relationship and the space in their shared bed felt bigger and bigger as the nights passed.

One night, Nancy had come down from Lenora Hills while visiting Jonathan and taken her for a girl's night out. Chrissy had stumbled home just when the phone rang, excitedly answering Eddie's call before almost immediately dissolving into tears.

"You're gonna find someone better," she'd sobbed. "Some–– Some hot rocker chick with piercings and tattoos and–– and a freaking mohawk or something!"

Eddie had laughed like it was the most absurd thing she could've said.

"How could I possibly want that when I have perfection waiting for me back at our place?" he'd replied easily. "I'm gonna come home to you, sweetness. Promise."

That had been a month ago. A full month after the start of the tour. Eddie had another month still left in the tour. And it was great, and he really seemed to love it, and Chrissy only had one more semester left of school and then she could join him on tour whenever she wanted because there was anthropological research to be done in every part of the world, and all she needed was a library and a typewriter.

She just. She really missed him.

They'd gotten off the phone a half hour ago. Eddie had sounded particularly breathless, and Chrissy knew without asking that he'd just finished up yet another incredible performance. One where girls were probably screaming and throwing their bras on stage because all of the Corroded Coffin boys were good-looking, but Eddie was so magnetic that he unintentionally stole the show.

He was on the east coast, three hours ahead of her, and she maybe would have felt bad about keeping him awake if she wasn't completely aware that Eddie was always awake until two in the morning.

Unless he was at home, anyway.

"I like going to bed with you," he'd admitted once with a smirk and a little shrug, "because that means I get to wake up with you and spend more hours of the day with you."

Her heart twinged in her chest, and Chrissy gave a heavy sigh as she checked to make sure the front door was locked before heading to bed.

Just as someone knocked on it.

Chrissy blinked, thinking for an insane second that she was hearing things. After a moment, another knock came, this one louder and slightly more insistent. Convinced someone had the wrong apartment, Chrissy crept toward the door, trying not to alert whoever was on the other side to her presence as she carefully avoided the creakiest parts of the hardwood hallway.

Peeking through the peephole stole her breath completely, and Chrissy nearly fainted.

She was seeing things. She had to be.

Still, her hands fumbled to unlock the deadbolt and the chain lock, cursing when she missed the catch initially, before finally wrenching the door open.

"Hey, sunshine," Eddie greeted easily. Like he hadn't just upended her entire life by showing up on their doorstep. "I would've just, y'know, come in, but I know you lock the chain when I'm not home."

"Eddie?" she asked, voice catching on the second syllable of his name, like he wasn't standing in front of her. Like her eyes weren't to be believed, and he was nothing more than a hopeful figment of her lonely imagination. "W-What are you...?"

Scratching the back of his neck and drawing attention to the backpack over his shoulder, Eddie just shrugged. "I, uh. I mean, we had a one day break between Pittsburgh and NYC. And I had to, like, bribe the label to get a replacement guitarist for tonight's show. I'm only home tonight and tomorrow," he admitted, regret obvious in his tone. "But I, uh. I needed to see you. I missed my girl."

He blurred before her, and Chrissy blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the sudden interruption of her vision.

Oh. Tears.

Scrubbing at her cheeks, Chrissy barely managed to say, "You came... just for me?" before a sob broke from her lungs.

All at once, she was wrapped up in that overwhelming familiarity. The scent of tobacco and leather and the undercurrent of his favorite cologne, couple with the strong, sure embrace of his arms that Chrissy couldn't help but melt into.

"Oh, baby," he breathed, holding her close right there in the doorway of their home. "I told you I'd come home to you."

[justhere4thevibez]

I KNOW with my whole heart you would do #2 "Wait a minute. Are you jealous?" so much justice for that writing prompt post, I almost don't even need to see it ���

You know me too well!!! I had SUCH fun with this one! enjoy 💛

---

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

Chrissy turned away from him with a muttered of course not, but she wasn’t quite quick enough to hide the flash of pink on her cheeks or the way she worried at her lip.

“Baby.” Eddie caught her around the waist before she could shrink away from him anymore. “Sweetheart. Talk to me.”

“It’s fine,” she said, stiff in his arms. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters,” he said, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck that made her shiver. “Everything about you matters to me.”

“It’s just—” she kept her back to him, but her hand snaked up to tangle in his curls— “I’m such a dork.”

“You’re not a dork.”

“Compared with them?” She finally turned to face him as she gestured to the crowd in the bar, her face tight and worried. “Yeah, I am. I’m a stupid little Barbie doll surrounded by cool rocker girls. It makes me feel—” her lip trembled, and Eddie steeled himself against the urge to kiss her because he needed to hear her out first. “It makes me feel like I don’t belong with you.”

Shit.

He’d known that bringing her to this show in Chicago would be outside of her comfort zone, but he hadn’t realized just how much it would affect her. Maybe he should’ve warned her that she wouldn’t blend in, but he hadn’t wanted to make her feel like she had to change into someone else just to fit into his world. He liked the way she stood out, like a magical fairy who’d wandered into another realm. But she’d never been one to enjoy making a statement, and the way she was dressed had garnered her more than few curious—and critical—looks.

“Oh, honey.” He did kiss her then, sweet and slow and full of intent. “Of course you belong with me. Look at you, you fit right in my arms like you were made to be here.”

She picked at one of the worn patches on his vest, unable to keep her gaze locked on him. “But don’t you think one of them might fit better?”

“No.”

He lifted her chin so her eyes would meet his, but she still looked insecure and uncertain. Well, he’d just have to change that.

“I love your pink bows—” he tugged at her hair ribbon. “And your blue eyeshadow—” he pressed a tender kiss to her temple. “And your dainty jewelry—” he traced the hollow of her neck where her ’86 charm lay. “I love you, baby, and everything that comes with you.”

Every touch pulled some tension from her body, and by the end she leaned against him, loose and relaxed and totally, completely his. Just like she was meant to be.

He rocked her back and forth, their slow dance at total odds with the thrashing crowd around them, but Eddie didn’t care. This moment was for him and Chrissy alone.

“You know,” she whispered in his ear, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “If you like what I’m wearing so much, you’re going to love what I have on underneath.”

“Oh, yeah?” He slid his hand down to cup her ass. “Maybe you should give me a sneak preview in the bathroom real quick.”

She bit her lip to reign in her smile, all insecurity long gone. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?”

“You’re on.”

Send me more prompts!

[weneverlearn]

Aaron Lange, Peter Laughner, and the Terminal Town of Cleveland, Ohio

Cleveland-based artist, Aaron Lange, tackles his first graphic novel, Ain't It Fun -- a deep dive into the oily depths of the Rust Belt's most influential music town, it's most mythological misfit, it's oft-forgotten artistic and political streaks, and beyond...

Aaron Lange and his book, 2023 (Photo by Jake Kelly)

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There’s a recurring line in Aaron Lange’s remarkable new graphic novel, Ain’t It Fun (Stone Church Press, 2023), that states, “Say the words out loud. The River isn’t real.” The river Lange was speaking of is the Cuyahoga, that infamously flammable mass of muck that dumps out into Lake Erie.

Peter Laughner (the ostensible topic of Lange’s book) was an amazing artist who probably could’ve ditched the banks of the Cuyahoga for more amenably artistic areas back in his early 1970s heyday. Aside from his frequent pilgrimages to the burgeoning NYC Lower East Side scene (where he nearly joined Television) and a quickly ditched attempt to live in California though, he mostly stuck around northeast Ohio.

While desperately trying to find his sound and a workable band, Laughner smelted a post-hippie, pre-punk amoebic folk rock, and formed the influential embryonic punk band, Rocket from the Tombs, which later morphed into Pere Ubu. All of which �� lumped up with other rust-belted oddballs like electric eels, Mirrors, DEVO, the Numbers Band, Chi-Pig, Tin Huey, Rubber City Rebels, and more – essentially helped formed the “proto-punk” template.

Laughner was also a rock writer of some regional renown, and contributed numerous amphetamine-fueled articles to regional mags like The Scene and Creem -- mostly concerning where Rock'n'Roll was going, colored as he was by the Velvet Underground, the Stooges, David Bowie, and Roxy Music playing in Cleveland a bunch of times around his formative years.

Sadly, in June 1977, Laughner died of acute pancreatitis at age 24. Aside from the first two seminal Pere Ubu 7-inch singles, the rest of Laughner’s recorded output was just one very limited self-released EP and, posthumously, a great double-LP comp of demo and live tracks, Take the Guitar Player for a Ride (1993, Tim Kerr Records). A surprisingly large batch of unreleased lost demos, radio shows, and live tapes appeared on the beautiful and essential box set, Peter Laughner (Smog Veil Records, 2019), that brought Laughner’s legend just a few blocks outside of Fringeville, as it received universally great reviews….

The Dead Boys became the most well-known act of that mid-70s Cleveland scene, though that only happened once they high-tailed it to NYC. Aside from DEVO, Chrissie Hynde, and the Waitresses (all of whom did their own versions of high-tailing it), nearly every other act in that fertile Cle-Akron proto-punk vortex soon dissipated, eventually getting the cult treatment at best.

Cleveland is indeed right there with NYC and London as punk ground zero, but Americans tend to equate buyable products as proof of import, so shockingly, the Pagans and The Styrenes just aren’t the household name they should be.

Decades of tape-trading stories, sub-indie label limited releases, and fanzine debates kept the mythology of those acts barely breathing underneath the end of the milennium’s increasingly loud R'n'R death knell. And as that mythology slowly grew, the fans and even the musicians of the scene itself still wonder what it all meant.     

Which, as you dig deeper into Ain’t It Fun, becomes the theme not just about the legendary rocker ghost of Peter Laughner, but of Cleveland itself. Ala Greil Marcus’ classic “hidden history” tome, Lipstick Traces, Lange interweaves Laughner’s self-immolating attempts at Beatnik-art-punk transcendence with a very detailed history of Cleveland, with its insane anti-legends and foot-shooting civic development.

Like much of the dank, rusted, and mysterious edges of the one-time “Sixth City,” the Cuyahoga has been cleaned up since, though I still wouldn’t suggest slurping up a swallow if you’re hanging on the banks of the Flats. I grew up in Cleveland and visit as often as I can because it’s an awesome place, no matter what they tell you. Or maybe, because of what they tell you.

If you are keen to swim down through the muck and mire of Cleveland’s charms, you don’t just get used to it, you like it. As for the “Cleveland” that the City Fathers have always tried so vainly to hype, us hopelessly romantic proto-punk fanatics say to those who would erase Cleveland’s fucked-up past and replace it with that weird fake greenspace underneath the Terminal Tower: “The City isn’t real.”

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Give us a quick bio.

Born in Cleveland, 1981. We moved to the west side suburbs when I was six. My parents didn’t listen to much music, and I don’t have older siblings. So I didn’t really listen to music at all until I was in high school, and I didn’t listen to any of the grunge or ‘90s stuff that was popular. I got real into the Beatles when I was in ninth grade, and at some point I got the Velvet Underground’s first album from the library because I saw Andy Warhol’s name on the cover. I didn’t know anything about them, so that was a real shock. I probably first heard Iggy Pop via the Trainspotting soundtrack, and pretty soon after I started getting into punk and generally more obscure stuff. Now I listen to more electronic stuff, ambient stuff. I also like most anything that falls under the broad “post-punk” umbrella. I really hate “rama-lama ding-dong” rock and roll.

What came first – music or drawing interest?

Drawing. I was always drawing… I’ve been a semi-regular contributor to Mineshaft for many years, which is a small zine/journal that features a lot of underground comix related stuff, but also has a beatnik vibe and includes poetry and writing. I’ve done the odd thing here and there for other zines, but I don’t really fit in anywhere.

Don’t really fit it – I feel that phrase describes a lot of the best / more influential Ohio musicians / bands. Did you feel that kind of feeling about Peter as you researched and wrote the book?

Peter was well liked, and he knew a vast array of people. If anything, he fit in in too many situations. He was spread thin.

When you lived in Philly, did you get a sense of any kind of similar proto-punk scene / era in that town? I sometimes, perhaps jingoistically, think this particular kind of music is almost exclusively confined to the Rust Belt.

I lived in Philly for nearly 11 years. As far as the old scene there, they had Pure Hell. But back then, anybody who really wanted to do something like that would just move to NYC.

So, is there a moment in time that started you on a path towards wanting to dig into Cleveland’s proto-punk past like this?

It was just something I had a vague interest in, going back to when I first heard Pere Ubu. And then later learning about the electric eels, and starting to get a feeling that Cleveland had a lot more to offer than just the Dead Boys. The Rocket from the Tombs reunion got things going, and that’s when I first started to hear Laughner’s name. A few years later, a friend sent me a burned CD of the Take the Guitar Player for a Ride collection, and I started to get more interested in Peter specifically.

Despite any first wave punk fan’s excitement about a Laughner bio, this book is moreso a history of Cleveland, and trying to connect those odd underground, counterculture, or mythological connections that the Chamber of Commerce tends to ignor as the town’s import. Was there a moment where you realized this book needed to go a little wider than only telling the tales of Laughner and the bands of that era? (Not that there’s anything wrong with that!)

Very early on I realized that none of this would make sense or have any true meaning without the appropriate context. The activities of the early Cle punk scene need to be viewed in relation to what was going on in the city. I think this is just as true with NYC or London – these were very specific contexts, all tangled up in politics, crime, rent, television, and also the specifics of the more hippie-ish local countercultures that preceded each region. You’ve got Bowie and Warhol and all that, but in Cleveland you’ve also got Ghoulardi and d.a. levy. Mix that up with deindustrialization and a picture starts to form.

So when did you decide on doing this book? You’ve mentioned this was your first attempt at doing a full graphic novel – and boy, you went epic on it!

I did a short version of Peter’s story back when I was living in Philadelphia. But upon completing that version – which I now think of as a sketch – it became clear that there was a lot more to say and to investigate. I spent about a year just thinking about it, forming contacts with some people, and tracking down various reference materials like records, zines, books, etc. Then my wife got a new job at Cleveland State University, so we left Philly. Once I landed back in Cleveland I started working on the book in earnest.

Page from Ain't It Fun -- all book images courtesy of the author.

By any chance was Greil Marcus’ book, Lipstick Traces (1989), an inspiration, as far as the “hidden history” factor, the trying to connect seemingly unconnected and lost historical footnotes into a path towards the culture’s future?

Yes. I read Lipstick Traces when I was around 19 or 20, and I’d never seen anything like it before. It really blew my mind, all the stuff about the Situationists and Dadaists and all that. Later on, I read Nick Tosches’ Dean Martin biography, Dino, and that was another mind blower. Another major influence is Iain Sinclair.

Ah Dino, another Ohio native. So, Laughner’s one-time partner, Charlotte Pressler’s book is mentioned, and I’ve seen it referenced and talked about for years – any inside word on if/when she might have that published?

Charlotte never wrote a book, though she did co-edit a book that collected the work of local poets. As far as her own writing, she’s done all manner of essays and poetry, and probably some academic writing that I’m not familiar with. As far as her completing “Those Were Different Times”— which was intended as a total of three essays— I’ve got some thoughts on that, but it’s not really my place to comment on it.

Pressler sounds like a very serious person in your book, as you say, she was kind of older than her years. But how was she to talk to?

Charlotte is serious, but she’s not dour. She’s got a sense of humor and she’s very curious about the world, always looking to learn new things. She’s an intellectual, and has a wide array of interests. We get along, we’re friends.

The fact that the town’s namesake, Moses Cleveland, left soon after his “discovery” and never came back – that’s like a template for how people envision a town like Cleveland: nice place to grow up, but you want to get out as soon as you’re legal. Even the musicians of the area might’ve agreed with that sentiment, even if many never left.  Do you think that has changed?

I’m glad I left Cleveland, but I’m also glad I came back. First off, my family is here. Second, the cost of living is still reasonable. I don’t know how people live in New York. I never have any money. I’d make more money if I had a full-time job at McDonald’s. That’s not a joke, or me being self-deprecating. How do artists live in New York? How do they afford rent and 20 dollar packs of cigarettes? I’m just totally confused by the basic mechanics of this. So yeah, I’m in Cleveland. It’s not great, but what are my options? I can’t just go to Paris and fuck around like a bohemian. I would if I could.

In Ain't It Fun, you reveal that one of the seminal Cleveland scene dives, Pirate's Cove, was once a Rockerfeller warehouse  – these kind of enlightening, almost comically perfect metaphors pop up every few pages. Not unlike the mythology that can sometimes arise in musician fandom, I wonder if these are metaphors we can mine, or just an obvious facts that the town drifted down from a center of industry to relative poverty.

“Metaphor” might be at too much of a remove. These facts, these landmarks — they create a complex of semiotics, a map, a framework. The city talks through its symbols and its landscape. If you submit to it and listen, it will tell you secrets. There is nothing metaphorical about this.

Is it a sign of privilege to look on destitution as inspiration? I’m guessing the sick drunks at Pirate’s Cove in 1975 weren’t thinking they were living in a rusty Paris of the ‘30s. Though I will say a thing I really loved about your book was that, for all its yearning and historical weaving, you still stick to facts and don’t seem to over-mythologize or put any gauze on the smog, like “Isn’t that so cool, man.” You capture the quiet and damp desperation of that era and Laughner’s milieu.

Poverty, decline, decay, entropy – these things are real. By aestheticizing them we are able to gain some control over them. And once you have control, you have the power to change things. This is not “slumming.” “Privilege” has nothing to do with it.

Page from Ain't It Fun

Do you know why the Terminal Tower (once the second tallest building in the world when it opened in 1928) was named that? It seems somewhat fatalistic, given the usual futurist positivism of the deco design era.

Terminal as in train terminal. It really pisses me off that there was once a time where you could go there and catch a train to Chicago or New York. It’s infuriating how this country dismantled its rail systems. And the Terminal Tower isn’t deco, but I think it is often confused with that style just by virtue of not being a gigantic rectangle. In that sense it does have more in common with a deco structure like the Chrysler building. Honestly, if you are looking for deco you might find more notable examples in Akron than you would Cleveland.

I notice a kind of – and bear with my lesser abilities to describe illustrative art – swirly style in your work that kind of aligns with art deco curves, maybe some Gustav Klimt…? In general, who were some illustrative inspirations for you early on?

That “swirly” style you describe is art nouveau. Deco came after that, and is more angular and clean. Additionally, a lot of underground comix guys were also poster artists, and there was often a nouveau influence in that psychedelic work – so there’s a bit of a thread there. As far as Klimt, I came to him kinda late, but I love him now.

The music of many northeast Ohio bands of that era has been generally tagged as “industrial” (the pre-dance industrial style, of course), cranky like the machinery of the sputtering factories in the Flats, etc… My guess is maybe the musicians were already finding used R'n'R instruments in thrift stores by that time, which would add a kind of layer of revision, turning old things into new sounds. Did you hear about of any of that? Or were there enough music stores around town? I know DEVO was already taking used instruments and refitting them; or electric eels using sheet metal and such to bang on…

I’m not a musician, so I don’t know anything about gear or stuff like that. I do know that Allen Ravenstine made field recordings in the Flats, and utilized them via his synthesizer. Frankly, I wish more of the Northeast Ohio bands had taken cues from Ubu and early Devo, because an “industrial” subculture definitely could have formed, like it did in England and San Francisco. But that never really happened here.

That kind of music was pretty popular on college radio and in a few clubs in Cleveland, though not many original bands with that sound arrived, aside from Nine Inch Nails who quickly took his act elsewhere… So in the book you mention local newsman, Dick Fealger. My memories of him are as a curmudgeon whose shtick was getting a little old by the time I was seeing him on the news, or his later opinion columns. Kinda your classic “Hey you kids, get off my lawn” style. You rightly paint him as a somewhat prescient reporter of the odd in his earlier days, though. I once had to go to a friend’s mother’s funeral, and in the next room in the funeral home was Dick Feagler’s funeral. I always regret not sneaking over and taking a peak into it to see who was there.

I like Feagler in the same way that I liked Andy Rooney on 60 Minutes. These were people that my grandparents liked. So I suppose my appreciation for Feagler is half nostalgia, half irony. I like cranks, grumps, letter-writers, street prophets. I like black coffee, donuts, diners, and blue plate specials – that’s Feagler’s world, the old newspaper world. Get up at 6 am and put your pants on, that kinda thing.

Yeah, I still found Feagler kinda funny, but like Jane Scott, while respect was always there, by the later ‘80s/’90s, both were set into almost caricatures  who were kind of resting on their laurels. 

Yeah, I remember seeing Jane at some random Grog Shop show back in the ‘90s, and I was kinda impressed. But no, she was never really cool. Jane was pure Cleveland, her career couldn't have happened anywhere else.

I remember seeing her sit right next to a huge house amp at the old Variety Theater for the entire duration of a Dead Kennedys show, taking notes for her review. Pretty impressive given her age at that point.

You also make a point of carving out an important space for The Damnation of Adam Blessing, a band that seems to get forgotten when discussing Cleveland’s pre-punk band gaggle. I find that interesting because in a way, they are the template for the way many Ohio bands don’t fit into any exact genre, and so often people don’t “get” them, or they’re forgotten later.

Damnation worked as a good local example for that whole psychedelic thing. They were very ‘60s. While the James Gang on the other hand, was more ‘70s— the cracks were starting to show with the ‘70s bands, they were harder and less utopian. Damnation feels more “Woodstock,” so they were useful to me in that regard.

I must add – for years I thought it was pronounced Laugh-ner, as in to laugh, ha ha, not knowing the Gaelic roots. Once I learned I was pronouncing it wrong, I still wanted to pronounce it like laughing, as it seemed to fit so darkly correct with how his life went, and Cleveland musicians’ love of bad puns and cheap comedians and such… Of course when I learned that it was an “ethnic” name, it made it that much more Cleveland.

Yeah, everybody says his name wrong. I used to too, and had to really force myself to start saying it as Lochner. But everybody says Pere Ubu wrong as well – it’s Pear Ubu.

I hate any desecration of any artwork, but I always loved the blowing up The Thinker statue story, as it seemed such a powerful metaphor of the strength of art, and Cleveland itself – the fact that The Thinker himself still sits there, right on top of the sliced-up and sweeping shards from the blast. It’s still there, right? And isn’t it true that there are like three more “official” Thinker statues in the world?

Yeah, I don’t condone what happened, but it is kinda cool. As a kid, the mutilated Thinker had a strong effect on me — I couldn’t have put it into words at the time, but I think it gave me a sense of the weight of history. It’s almost like a post-war artifact in Europe, something that is scarred. And yes, it’s still there outside the museum. And it’s a cast. I think there might be five official ones, but I’d have to look that up. If you are ever in Philadelphia, swing by the Rodin museum and check out The Gates of Hell.

I have only become a bigger fan of Laughner’s as the years pass. But there is something to the critique that perhaps he never really found his singular sound; that he was copping bits from Lou Reed and Dylan, and couldn’t keep a band together to save his life. And there was supposedly a feeling among some in the NYC scene that he was a bit of a carpetbagger.

Everybody has their influences, so Peter wasn’t in any way unique in that sense. I know he has a reputation for doing a lot of cover songs — which is true — but he also wrote a lot of originals, and there are some damn good ones which are still unreleased. “Under the Volcano” is just one such unheard song which I mention in my book, but there are others. As far as finding his own singular sound, he probably came closest to that with Friction. That group borrowed heavily from Television and Richard Hell, but also drew upon Richard Thompson and Fairport Convention. And when you think about it, those were really unlikely influences to juxtapose, and it created something original. Frustratingly though, Friction never achieved their full potential, as Peter was already losing it.

Yeah, Friction is kind of way up there with the “What if” bands… It’s interesting that for all his legend as a proto-punk figure, perhaps Laughner’s signature songs – Sylvia Plath” and “Baudelaire” – were gorgeous acoustic numbers. Though of course those early Pere Ubu songs were proto-punk and post-punk templates, somehow...

I honestly don’t know what happened with Ubu, as it is pretty distinct from Peter’s other work. Thomas isn’t really a musician, so we can only give him so much credit with how that sound developed. I honestly don’t know. There just must have been some sort of alchemy between the various players, and Thomas understood it and was able to encourage and guide it in the projects that followed over the years.

Page from Ain't It Fun

You also didn’t really detail Pere Ubu’s initial breakup – was there just not much to say?

Yeah, I think I mentioned it, but no, I didn’t really get into it. Pere Ubu is kind of a story unto themselves. But it might be worth mentioning here that Home and Garden was an interesting project that came out of that Ubu breakup. And Thomas also did some solo albums, but I’m not as familiar with those.

Yeah, I saw Home and Garden a few times way back, good stuff. You’ve mentioned to me that there were some people that didn’t want to talk to you for the book; and that people were very protective of Peter’s legacy and/or their friendship with him. To what do you attribute that?

It has everything to do with Peter’s early death. Some people are very protective of how Peter is remembered. And I think some people weren’t exposed to Peter’s dark side, so when they hear those descriptions of him it strikes them as untrue. I think Peter showed different sides of himself to different people.

I kind of felt as I was reading that you might say more about Harvey Pekar, as not only is he an interesting figure, but the most famous graphic novelist from Ohio, and I assume an inspiration of your’s.

Pekar’s great. Especially the magazine-size issues he was doing in the late ‘70s up through the ‘80s. It was important to me to include him in the book. But Pekar was a jazz guy, and that’s a whole other story, a whole other tangled web.

So, Balloonfest! Hilarious. I almost forgot about that. But I do remember Ted Stepien owning the short-lived Cleveland professional softball team; and for a promotion, they dropped softballs off the Terminal Tower, and if you caught one you won $1,000 or something. Do you recall that? It’s one of my favorite fucked-up Cleveland stories. Balls smashed car roofs, and cops immediately told people to run away.

Yeah, I’m aware of that baseball stunt. I generally try and stay away from anything even remotely related to professional sports teams — it gets talked about more than enough elsewhere. Oddly, I am interested in athletes who work alone, like Olympic skiers. I’m attracted to that solitary focus, where the athlete isn’t competing against other teams or players, but more competing with the limits of the human body, competing with what the physical world will allow and permit, that whole Herzog trip. I’m also interested in the Olympic Village, as this artificial space that mutates and moves across time and across continents.

As far as Balloonfest, I still watch that footage all the time. I use it as a meditation device. I’ll put it on along with Metal Machine Music and go into a trance.

A few years ago, as I am sure you are well aware, noted British punk historian Jon Savage put together a Soul Jazz Records comp of Cleveland proto-punk called Extermination Nights in the Sixth City. I grew up in Cleveland, lived in Columbus for awhile, and I never heard it called “the Sixth City.” Have you? If so, what does it refer to?

Nobody calls it that anymore. It’s an old nickname back from when Cleveland was literally the sixth largest city in the country.

I’d guess Ain’t It Fun was a tiring feat to accomplish. But do you have another book in the works? And if someone wanted to option Peter’s story for a movie, would you sign on? I personally dread rock biopics. They’re almost universally bad.

Yeah, I’ve got an idea for another book, but it’s too early to talk about that. As far as biopics, they are almost always bad, rock or otherwise. Rock documentaries are often pretty lousy too. A recent and major exception would be Todd Haynes’ Velvet Underground documentary, which is just goddamn brilliant. A film about Peter in that vein would be great— but there’s just no footage to work from. He didn’t have Warhol or Factory people following him around with a camera. So unless somebody like Jim Jarmusch comes calling, I won’t be signing off on movie rights any time soon.

Unless there is more you’d like to say, thanks, and good luck with the book and future ventures!

Stone Church Press has a lot of projects planned for 2024 and beyond, and I encourage anyone reading this to support small publishers. There is a lot of very exciting stuff going on, but you have to work a little to find it. Amazon, algorithms, big corporate publishers — they’re like this endless blanket of concrete that smothers and suffocates. But flowers have a way of popping up between the cracks.

Aaron Lange, 2023 (Photo by Jake Kelly)

[cringevalue]

AO3 Wrapped - September 2024

I keep a fanfiction spreadsheet, I have no shame, and I need to yap about my stats.

I spent approximately 53 hours and 19 minutes reading this month. That being said, I read 48 fics this month, 118 chapters, and 520,132 words.

My top fandom was Stranger Things (obviously) with 43 fics and my top ship was Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson with 34 fics, and Chrissy Cunningham following close behind with a whopping... 2. My top five reoccurring characters were Eddie Munson in 38 fics, Steve Harrington in 38 fics, Robin Buckley in 17 fics, Nancy Wheeler in 10 fics, and Dustin Henderson in 9 fics.

The three tags I read the most were Bisexual Steve Harrington in 14 fics, Hurt / Comfort in 11 fics, and Gay Eddie Munson in 10 fics, and my top rating this month was Explicit with 21 fics.

The most words I read in a day was 57,981 on September 22nd and the longest fic I read was roll the dice on my thighs by myworldoffanfiction at 63,857 words. September 22nd was also the day I spent the most time on AO3, according to my screen time, at 5 hours and 12 minutes.

All of this information (aside from time spent reading) and every fic I've read this month can be found on my spreadsheet!

Every Stranger Things fic I read this month is linked under the cut :)

(The post is too long with the other fandoms)

Stranger Things

Meet the Ghoul Squad by Emmie_a19

Teen and Up - 5.8k - Steve Harrington / Reader - Halloween, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters

Hawkins, Indiana is home to a monstrous crew, quite literally. And witch Emmy Henderson has never had a friend to her name, until seventh grade. Along the way, she befriends all types of monsters, including human Steve van Harrington.

Yeah, We’re Doing Tattoos by TwistedSiren86

General Audiences - 3.8k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Gay Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Eddie and Steve are Married, Dad!Eddie Munson, Dad!Steve Harrington, Trans Eddie Munson, Fluff, Happy Ending, One Shot, Family Fluff, Tattoo Artist Eddie Munson

Eddie and Steve are married with their toddler daughter Lily, who has the artistic muse her father has. So when Lily gets caught drawing on her walls with crayons, Eddie has a better idea.

My Little Siren by ApomaroMellow

General Audiences - 7.9k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Inspired by The Little Mermaid (Disney Movies), Deaf Steve Harrington, Drowning

Steve is entranced by the voice he hears every night. After nearly drowning, he seeks the aid of magic to turn him into a merman so that he can find the owner of that voice.

Non-Stop Talker, What A Rocker by beetlesandstars

Explicit - 3.4k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - First Kiss, First Time, Gay Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has a Breeding Kink, Dirty Talk, Smoking, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, Loss of Virginity, Virgin Eddie Munson, Making Out, Marijuana, Falling In Love, Hand Jobs

“How far’ve you gone? What've you done before?” Eddie didn’t think it was possible for his cheeks to get any warmer, but lo and behold, they do. “Uh.” He swallows, fighting the urge to curl into a pillbug. “Nothing.”

I Don't Think We're In Hawkins Anymore, Big Boy by Hbyrde

General Audiences - 17.5k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Post-Season/Series 04, Eddie Munson Lives, Gay Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Love Confessions, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, Wizard of Oz References, Banter, Flirting, Getting Together, Adventures in Following the Yellow Brick Road with Your Crush, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Are Best Friends, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Eddie Munson, Pining, Steve and Robin Being Besties in Every Universe (Literally), Happy Ending, Fluff

After being run off the road in a freak accident during a terrible storm, Steve and Eddie find that not only have they committed vehicular manslaughter, but they’ve also somehow been whisked away to a strange land. The journey is rough and they are being hunted for revenge, but through it all Steve and Eddie grow closer than ever as they try and find their way home with the help of some new friends with familiar faces. -Or- A Steddie Wizard of Oz AU

i want your guy (to know) by happypilot

Teen and Up - 5.5k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - POV Tommy Hagan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Future Fic, 2000s, Period-Typical Homophobia, Unreliable Narrator, Jealous Tommy Hagan, One-Sided Tommy Hagan/Steve Harrington - depends on who you ask, Unrequited Love, The Underrated Heartbreak of a Friendship Breakup, Writer Eddie Munson, Dads Steddie

Tommy thumbs through the first few pages of the magazine until he reaches Eddie’s interview, and, again, he allows himself to look over the photo of him that takes up nearly three-quarters of the first page even if he has no intention of actually reading the article itself because, again, Eddie looks good (and maybe there’s something about the scruff of facial hair along his jaw that Tommy's eye gets stuck on). Tommy’s allowed to say that men look good when it’s true – it’s 2007, as his wife likes to remind him whenever it’s convenient for her, and if she’s allowed to say that Angelina Jolie looked good in that CIA movie, then Tommy is allowed to say that Eddie Munson looks good here. When Tommy flips to the next page, he’s met with a photo that stops him in his tracks, has his feet frozen to the floor because – Jesus Christ, that’s Steve Harrington. Fuck, okay, so he’s reading this fucking article. — May 2002. Featuring a magazine, an interview, and the devastation in getting answers.

Baby look out, I'm a man on the prowl by Ninjantome

Explicit - 3.3k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Eddie Munson is a Serial Killer, Nancy Wheeler Has a Gun, Hitchhiking, Rape/Non-con Elements, Steve Harrington is in for a Ride, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Restraints, Gags, Doesn't Ask for It but Gets Into It, Hand Jobs, Choking, Anal Sex, Rough Sex, Rough Kissing, Car Sex, Serial Killing Business but No One Actually Dies Here, Queen Soundtrack, Scream Team

Steve Harrington gives a lift to a pretty hitchhiker and gets more than he bargained for... A serial killer on his backseat.

This darkened street we travel by what_about_the_fish

Explicit - 3.6k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Serial Killer Eddie Munson, Dark Steve Harrington, Murder, Blood, Blood and Violence, Fist Fights, Consensual Non-Consent, Rough Sex, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Anal Sex

Darkness calls to darkness. Steve taunts his boyfriend just to see the darkness come out to play

Once Upon Your Dead Body by LaLorelei

Mature - 2.4k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Character Turned Into Vampire, Dead Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Human/Vampire Relationship, Dracula References, Past Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Minor Maxine "Max" Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair, Vampire Bites, Kink Discovery, Steve Harrington Has a Bisexual Awakening, Post-Season/Series 04

Steve spends the day listening to Lucas reading Max horror stories and then has a powerful dream of vampire Eddie showing up to seduce him.

It's UnEVEN by BiBeanTransBean

General Audiences - 905 - Eddie Munson & Multiple Characters - Boys in Skirts, Non-Sexual, Makeup, Gay Eddie Munson, Soft Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Deserves Nice Things, Bisexual Maxine "Max" Mayfield, BAMF Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Bisexual Eleven | Jane Hopper, Good Friend Robin Buckley, Autistic Eddie Munson, Protective Steve Harrington, Short & Sweet, I like to Think Eddie Wears Skirts and Fishnets and Sometimes Crop Tops, This One is Kinda 1 Time Robin Helped Eddie, Max Sees Eddie as a New Older Brother, Eddie Likes the Sibling-Like Bond He and Max Have so He Agrees to be Her "Older Bro"

Max and El do Eddie's makeup and nails, but his eyeliner is uneven, so he does a little freak out and goes to Robin and Steve for help

Lapse by Yikes_Writes

Mature - 5.2k - Steve Harrington - Hurt Steve Harrington, Found Family Sweetness, Rated Mature Because I Can't Not Swear an Obscene Amount Soz, Platonic Relationships, Robin and Steve are FRIENDS, Epilepsy, Epileptic Steve Harrington, I picked Canon to Keep from Season Three and The Rest of it Was Thrown Away, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Friendship, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Steve Harrington Needs Love, and He Gets It!!!!!, Medical Procedures, Hospitals, Seizures, Absence Seizures

The first time Robin noticed it, Steve was helping a customer at Family Video. He was in the middle of a sentence, i the middle of a transaction behind the register when his eyes drifted up towards the ceiling and his voice trailed off. His jaw shifted around and he chewed on his tongue. It was like he was completely vacant. It lasted a few seconds, and he snapped back in, finishing his sentence and continuing the transaction like nothing happened. - Steve's been having seizures.

Nothing Done Nothing Said by hyperrbolic_orange

Teen and Up - 19.1k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), First Kiss, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Hurt Steve Harrington, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has a Sexuality Crisis, Steve Harrington Has a Bisexual Awakening, Billy Hargrove Being an Asshole, but Very Minor, Steve has a Concussion, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Hospitals, Head Injury, Minor Angst, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Well Kind of Unresolved, For a Little

After getting hit on the head with a basketball, Steve Harrington is found passed out behind the school by Eddie Munson. He helps Steve to the ER, and that probably should've been the end of it. Would have been the end of it, except that when Steve had woken up and found Eddie leaning over him, well, he kind of realized that Eddie might've just been the most beautiful person he'd ever seen. And that was a goddamned problem.

Hot Knife by FkinKindaGauche

Explicit - 9.3k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Omega Verse, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Enemies to Lovers, Recreational Drug Use, POV Alternating, Omega Steve Harrington, Alpha Eddie Munson, Cunnilingus, Blow Jobs, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Knotting, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Title from a Fiona Apple Song

“I’m Steve Harrington.” He hit Eddie with his best bedroom eyes. He knew Eddie couldn’t smell him through the scent patch, but surely he’d heard of Steve Harrington, omega swim team superstar. Eddie just stared at Steve’s hand, not extending his own. “Can I help you with something, Harrington?” He sounded annoyed. “Or are you just here to stare and interrupt our conversation?” Okay, this was not going the way Steve had expected. He typically had no trouble picking up alphas, in fact they tended to be the ones throwing themselves at Steve. He could deal with this, though. Just a little pushback. He’d try again when there weren’t so many people around, maybe Eddie was just shy. “No, just wanted to introduce myself,” Steve said, smiling. Eddie waited for a moment then waved his hand away from the table. “Well, introduction done. Run along, jock boy.”

I Can Wait For You At The Bottom by Atalia_Gold

Mature - 57.5k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Depression, Steve Harrington Is a Mess, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, He Gets Many, Supportive Wayne Munson, Eventual Smut, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Vomiting, Steve Harrington Has Body Image Issues, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Hurt/Comfort, Steve Harrington Has Migraines, Slow Burn, Disordered Eating, Hand Jobs

“Leave me!” The boy repeated, insistent now, and Eddie’s hand felt wet against the boy’s face now. He realized with a pang that he was crying. From his position in the doorway, Eddie could see into the lounge, and his stomach dropped at the sight of several empty pill packets on the coffee table, moonlight glinting off them. “Nah, I’m not gonna do that,” Eddie murmured to him, and he pulled the boy closer, ignoring his weak protests and guiding his head into his lap. “S’alright, I gotcha.” ***** Steve drives to an isolated cabin intending to end it all. He wasn't counting on a desperate boy breaking into the cabin on the same night.

Living Dead Boy by DutchsPretties

Explicit - 6.6k - Chrissy Cunningham / Eddie Munson - Zombie Eddie Munson, Necromancer Chrissy Cunningham, Witch Chrissy Cunningham, Cemetery, Graveyard, Resurrection, Temporary Character Death, Halloween, Ritual Sex, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Multiple Orgasms, Female Ejaculation, Riding

Chrissy Cunningham wants to ressurect Eddie Munson after an interesting discovery found in his locker.

A deal with the devil by Just_my_latest_hyperfixation

Teen and Up - 980 - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Alternate Universe - Pirate, Pirate Eddie Munson, Castaway Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove Being an Asshole, Dehydration, Steve Harrington Whump, Non-Consensual Bondage, Sexual Tension, Sexual Innuendo

Steve's stomach drops. Because now that the fog is slowly lifting from his mind, the man looks familiar. He's seen that face before, staring back at him from Wanted posters in port towns. “You're Edward Munson,” he mutters. “The pirate.”

to be a king by burningkerosene

General Audiences - 4.9k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Pirate Eddie Munson, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Pirates, Prince Steve Harrington, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Boats and Ships, Boys Kissing, Boys In Love, Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Intimacy, Gay Eddie Munson, Friendship, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sleepovers, Birthday, Rings, guys i love them so much u dont understand, i wrote this half at school and half at home, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, the steddie brainworms make me feel insane, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has Abandonment Issues

Prince Steven Harrington isn't sure he has a place. Sure, he's gonna be king one day. He's gonna get married to some Princess and have kids to take the throne after him but it's not what he wants. No, Steve has always wanted to be a pirate.

keep with me forward by shortcrust

Teen and Up - 19.8k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Domesticity, Healing, Character Study

The house that the government buys Eddie is pink.

Out of Curiosity by camouflagedlove

Teen and Up - 13k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - 5+1 Things, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Slight Mentions of Jonathan/Argyle, Slight Mention of Lucas/Max, Seduction Tactics, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Friendship, Eddie Munson is Oblivious, Everyone Knows Steve Likes Eddie, except for Steve, Eddie Munson is Stubborn, Flirty Steve Harrington, Wingman Robin Buckley, Dialogue Heavy, Recreational Drug Use, Steve Being Insecure About His Scars, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Mutual Pining, But Eddie's Less Obvious

“So you’re not attracted to me? Like at all?” Steve asked. Robin dropped her head onto the counter with a loud thump and a groan. “Steve, buddy, you can calm down. I, Eddie Munson, am not attracted to nor planning to hit on King Steve. Scout’s honor,” Eddie held up his fingers to mirror a scout salute. Or: 5 times Eddie wouldn't admit he finds Steve attractive and 1 time he finally did.

smile like a razor's edge by SaintMarySunshine

Explicit - 8k - Chrissy Cunningham / Eddie Munson - Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Serial Killer!Eddie Munson, Dark!Chrissy Cunningham, Hybristophilia, Violence Against Women, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Psychical Abuse, The shit that is the American foster system, Animal Death, Past Animal Abuse, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period Typical Attitudes, Eddie is not a Homophobe, he might be a serial killer but he's not a homophobe, period typical slang for queer people but it's incredibly brief, eddie is like hey what if i murdered you :) and chrissy is like hey what if i got off on that :), Murder Husbands, they're horrible people but they're in love, Happy Ending, like this is actually a pretty positive fic, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Horrible People Being Horrible, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts

Eddie Munson is a smooth-talking Southern gentleman. He also happens to be a prolific murderer. Chrissy Cunningham is eighteen years old and the apple of everybody's eye. She also happens to be a fucking lunatic, she's just really good at hiding it. Boy meets girl. xxx Excerpt: You know those old cornball comedies? The one where a precocious kid gets in all kinds of wacky debacles? And when it gets particularly wild, he turns to the camera, all smiles. There’s a record scratch. And the kid will say something like, “I bet you’re wondering how I got here.” If Chrissy’s life was a movie... If it was a movie, little miss American-dream-homecoming-queen would turn to the camera, a conspiratorial twist to her mouth. There! Can’t you hear it? There’s the record scratch! The freeze frame! As she lies under the most brutal serial killer in Indiana history, letting him fuck her hard, sweet as pie cheerleader Chrissy Cunningham would smile to the invisible audience and say, “I bet you’re wondering how I got here.”

You Wouldn’t Dare, Big Boy by clownprincepickle

General Audiences - 1.7k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Pirate AU, Mike Wheeler is a Little Shit, implied byler, mike wheeler hates women, eddie is so gay he forgets he’s in danger, i hate Steve’s parents, Nancy’s got a gun, Fluff, Implied Boat Hijacking, fuck the law, Eddie Munson being a fucking flirt

“Shit.” The pirate captain breathed, holding a hand out as if he wasn’t about to attempt grand theft nautical. Or, Steve Harrington let’s himself get roped into crime by a cute pirate captain.

Shovel Talks by unkreativstermensch

Teen and Up - 4.3k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Gay Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Protective Wayne Munson, POV Outsider, Wayne adopts Steve, but dont tell him that he doesnt know, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, eddie too, Eddie Munson Lives, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, wayne hates steves dad, Shovel Talk

“Oh,” Steve says. Then again, “oh,” a little quieter. His expression changes; from confusion to something pained almost. “Mr Munson, I don’t…” he takes a deep breath, his voice a little shaky as he continues. “I don’t think he…I don’t think he likes me like that.” He doesn’t say “it’s not like that.” Neither does he say “I’m not like that.” That’s the first thing Wayne notices. or: Wayne decides to give Steve the shovel talk, only to realize he might not be the one needing one

our house (in the middle of our street) by fivecenturiesverse

Teen and Up - 14.4k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - POV Steve Harrington, Asexual Relationship, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Lesbian Robin Buckley, Bisexual Vickie (Stranger Things), Implied Sexual Content, Minor Maxine "Max" Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair, Disabled Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Families of Choice, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Domestic Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together, Sharing a Bed, steve harrington match maker, mom and dad steve and eddie, Good Babysitter Steve Harrington, Good Babysitter Eddie Munson, Drinking, Recreational Drug Use, Drunken Kissing, Drunken Confessions, Flirting, robin and steve codependency, Roommates, Living Together

He's in the market for a house, it's not his fault the Creel Murder House is the cheapest place he can find. It's kind of the perfect house, really, Steve's got a big family. - Eddie fumbles in rolling the blunt. They’re sitting in Eddie’s room while he rolls on the tray balanced on his knees. “You’re — you’re giving me a key?” “Yeah. I don’t know if you want to move out of here but uh… option is there if you uhm, need it?” He stays staring at Steve, fingers paused over the tray like the ridiculous caricature of a stoner caught red handed by the cops. “For real? What about rent?” “Yeah man, of course. I know you haven’t been sleeping great here for obvious reasons and like, a new place isn’t going to help that much but…” He shrugs. “Got more rooms than I know what to do with, so fuck rent. I’m getting keys for you and Rob next week and maybe some for the kids, I don’t know if I trust them with keys to my house.”

Got You By My Side by august_justice

Teen and Up - 7k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Pre-Slash, Getting Together, Post-Season/Series 04, Eddie Munson Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, no beta we die like characters whose name starts with b, Bisexual Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, brief mention of past unrequited Chrissy Cunningham/Eddie Munson, as in just…one line about Eddie having a crush on her in middle school

After barely making it out of the Upside Down alive, Eddie wakes up in the hospital with one Steve Harrington at his bedside. They've got a few things to talk about.

roll the dice on my thighs by myworldoffanfiction

Teen and Up - 63.8k - Steve Harrington & Everyone - Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Canon Rewrite, Steve Harrington Has Powers, Hurt Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Child Neglect, Neglect, Past Child Abuse, Child Abuse, Season/Series 01, Canon-Typical Violence, Violence, Blood and Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Telekinesis, Seven, Tattoos, Headaches & Migraines, Steve Harrington Has Migraines, Child Experimentation, Human Experimentation, Daddy Issues, Mommy Issues, Shock, Electrocution, Electricity, Electrocution Therapy, Seizures, Steve Harrington Has Brain Damage, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Steddie Brainrot, Medical Inaccuracies, Steve Harrington-centric, Period-Typical Homophobia, Canon-Typical Behavior, Nosebleed

Steve has blocks in his memory, but a certain name and a certain voice ring his mind constantly. Like a broken record, he hears the voice but cannot identify it. Don’t be afraid, Seven. Or; the Steve has powers fic you knew you needed.

see the other side by kdqt314

Explicit - 3.7k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Dom/sub, Switch Steve Harrington, Sub Eddie Munson, Dom Eddie Munson, Dom Steve Harrington, Humiliation, Trying New Things, Masturbation, Face Slapping, Come Shot, Hair-pulling, Stereotypes, Bratting, Pet Play If You Squint, Aftercare, Eddie Munson Has Sensory Issues, Frottage, Communication, sometimes Eddie just needs to turn off his brain, Eddie Munson is a Little Shit

Eddie thinks he's a Dom, until his boyfriend shows him he's not.

horror films & hormones by cheapqueer

Explicit - 2.3k - Eddie Munson / Reader - Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Smut, Soft Eddie Munson, Top Eddie Munson, Dom Eddie Munson, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Stranger Things 4, Eddie Munson is a Little Shit, Eddie Munson Fluff

watching a horror movie with your boyfriend doesn’t go exactly as planned.

that rush is almost all you can stand by PrincessOTP

Explicit - 7.1k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Bottom Steve Harrington, Top Eddie Munson, Virgin Eddie Munson, Dom Eddie Munson, Sub Steve Harrington, Light Dom/sub, Hanky Code, Handkerchief Code, Smut, Pet Names, Making Out, Anal Fingering, Masturbation, Begging, Hand Jobs, Biting, Praise Kink, Anal Sex, Light Feminization, the babygirlification of steve harrington, Breeding Kink, Eddie teaches Steve guitar, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Eddie Munson, POV Steve Harrington

“Please fuck me, Eddie.” Eddie’s head shot up to look at Steve, eyes wide and dark. “What?” “Cmon I know you heard me, Eds.” Steve whined, squirming under Eddie’s gaze. “Yeah. I just— I didn’t expect that. I kinda thought you’d wanna fuck me.” That made Steve stop. “But aren’t you a top?” “I mean, I don’t really care which way we do it. We can switch or whatever.” Eddie shrugged, sitting up a little and removing his hands. Steve mourned the feeling of his skin on his. He scrunched his nose in confusion. “But what about the hanky?” “What hanky?” God, did Steve have to spell it out? “Your— your bandana!” “What about it?” “It means you're a top who’s into S&M!” “It means WHAT?” - Or the one where Steve knows more about flagging than Eddie

November Paramedic by BackyardOwl

Mature - 25.6k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Minor Maxine "Max" Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Humor, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Awkwardness, Gay Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Paramedic Steve Harrington, Lust at First Sight, Sexual Tension, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Mess, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Good Friend Gareth (Stranger Things) Good Friend Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Eddie would disagree on the "good friends" part but it's true, POV Eddie Munson, Masturbation, Rimming, Anal Sex

Eddie has had his fair share of fantasies, but none of them involved fucking a paramedic. Until two years ago. That's when the "sexy men at work"-calendar got added to his porn stash and orgasms as he knew them changed forever. All the men in the calendar are hot, but none of them hold a candle to the paramedic. He's got this look in his eyes, this slant to his mouth. Like he knows he's the hottest guy in it. And everything is fine. Everything is great. Eddie's been single forever and he has no idea where he's headed in life, but he's fine. At least until he's collateral damage in a bar fight after a gig, and none other than his sexy November-paramedic arrives to treat his wounds.

held frozen like an angel to me by stobinesque (amusingdisplacement)

Explicit - 10.3k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Vers Dom Steve Harrington, Vers Sub Eddie Munson, Monsterfucking, Monster Steve Harrington, Rockstar Eddie Munson, Dual POV, gothic vibes, Shapeshifting Genitalia, Dream Sex, Dream Manipulation, Sleep Paralysis, Biting, Blood Kink, Aphrodisiac Venom, Choking, Breeding Kink, Possessiveness/Obsession, Ownership, Collars, Compulsion, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Come Play, Come Eating, Foot Kink, Cock & Ball Torture, light gore, Religious References and Biblical Allusions, Dacryphilia, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Tails, Wing Kink, Lactation Kink, Knotting, Good Boy Eddie Munson, Theodore Munson truthing hours

There's a figure in the doorway, silhouetted by the chandeliers he keeps faintly lit in the receiving hall. Eddie sees the outline of wings. Of horns. A flowered crown. No sooner has he had the thought to reach out than the figure is stalking towards him. Eddie still can't move, and the beat of his heart picks up its pace. Not yet pounding in terror, but racing like he's just started a chase. He wants to speak. Wants to cry out, wants to— "Hello, my pet."

on your knees by orphan_account

Mature - 1.5k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Smut, thats all i know how to write, Marijuana, eddie munsons band, Top Eddie Munson, Bottom Steve Harrington, established eddie munson/steve harrington

Pretend W.A.S.P. didn't write on your knees, yes i can smell the metalhead tears from my computer as I write this. I will probably read this later when I sober up and delete this vile ass shit. Basically, Eddie writes a song but wont let Steve hear it until he plays it in concert.

Hawkins’ School of Witchcraft and Wizardry by steveharringtoned

General Audiences - 43.4k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Good Babysitter Steve Harrington, Protective Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson-centric, Triwizard Tournament (Harry Potter), Protective Eddie Munson, Hurt Eddie Munson, Slow Burn, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is Viktor Krum With Hair, Yule Ball (Harry Potter), Hurt/Comfort, POV Eddie Munson, Chosen One Eleven, Dragons, Underwater Kiss, Muggleborn Steve Harrington, Angst, Whump, Hurt Steve Harrington

After failing his fifth year twice, Eddie is ready to buckle down and have just one, relatively normal year at Hawkins’ School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But then famous professional Quidditch player, Durmstrang golden-boy Steve Harrington just has to enter the Triwizard Tournament. (And Eddie can’t be one-upped by him and his flouncy hair—no way. Not when Dustin’s respect is on the line.) But maybe he’ll finally prove to Gryffindor House that he belongs there after all.

Red puddle of mud (skin warm in the sun) by sweetlikesugar

Explicit - 4.3k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Extremely Dubious Consent, Blood and Gore, Murder, Intercrural Sex, Anal Fingering, Blood As Lube, Post-Stranger Things 4 Vol. 2, Obsessive Behavior, Exhibitionism, Dark Steve Harrington

And Eddie has thought about kissing boys. He obsessed about kissing boys. He has kissed a few boys, quick and wet, tasting like booze and bad weed, with stubble scratching his face and strong waist under his hands, with none of the give of the girl’s soft physique. None of it holds a candle to the way Steve Harrington is kissing him.

don't need your roses, i like men on their knees by callunavulgari

Explicit - 5.1k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Serial Killer Eddie Munson, FBI Agent Steve Harrington, Explicit Sexual Content

“Did you like my last letter?” Munson asks him softly, eying Steve through lowered lashes. “You mean the one where you told the entire bureau every lurid thought that you’ve ever had about my cock?” Steve says waspishly. “Yeah, can’t say that I did.” Munson’s smile grows, just a little, enough to show teeth. He flicks his eyes downwards, slow and pointed, before he drags them up again. He takes another step forward, until he’s tucked easily into the curve of Steve’s body and reaches down, palming the curve of Steve’s cock and balls through his slacks. He cups gently, the press of his fingers barely there, but still hard enough to make Steve hiss, his hips twitching into the touch. “You sure about that?” Munson asks slyly.

wanna be the only one for miles and miles (except for maybe you) by judasofsuburbia

Explicit - 4.9k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Alternate Universe - Western, Outlaw!Eddie Munson, Sheriff!Steve Harrington, Homosexual Wound Care, Domestic, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Love Confessions

“Aren’t I supposed to be runnin’ from you?” Eddie jokes, half-heartedly. “You are the sheriff after all.” “I’m not a sheriff to you,” Steve whispers. “Not here.” Eddie can take Steve’s food, Steve’s bath water, Steve’s bed, Steve’s warmth. He doesn’t think he can take Steve’s love. or: outlaw!eddie runs to sheriff!steve's house after a fight at the saloon expecting to get chewed out but finds something sweeter instead.

sweetness on our lips by deadratz

Explicit - 5.4k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Established Relationship, First Time, Virgin Eddie Munson, Bottom Eddie Munson, Top Steve Harrington, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, First Time Blow Jobs, Possessive Steve Harrington, Good Boy Eddie Munson, Praise Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Love Confessions, Loss of Virginity

Steve thinks this might be the longest he's gone without sex ever since he first lost his virginity. It's certainly the longest he's gone without sex while actively dating someone. Four months in, and he and Eddie have been taking things slow. And he's perfectly fine with that, even if he's been imagining spending his entire life with Eddie since the moment he was pressed up against the wall in that boat house.

Future Hazy Try Again by merry_magpie

Teen and Up - 30.3k - Eddie Munson & Everyone - Eddie Munson is 010, Eddie Munson Needs a Hug, Eddie Munson Has Powers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Alternate Universe, Precognition, Underage Drinking, Recreational Drug Use, Good Parent Wayne Munson, Eddie Munson Has ADHD, Big Brother Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Bisexual Eddie Munson, Bisexual Male Character, Bullying, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Self-Medication, Canon Temporary Character Death, Minor Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Grief/Mourning, Eddie Munson Fights, Driving While High

Eddie escaped the lab early in 1979 and has never looked back. Until his sister shows up in November of 1983 and Eddie can no longer keep away from the weird stuff. A re-write of the end of season one if Eddie was 10 and had very reluctantly joined the Party.

To Deserve Love, etc by Ragazza_Guasto

Explicit - 6.1k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Gay Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Sugar Daddy Steve Harrington, A teaspoon of angst, Robin Buckley Saves The Day, First Time, Blow Jobs, Himbo Steve Harrington, Humor

"Why are you buying Eddie expensive gifts?” He went completely blank, wheels spinning. Nothing he'd been telling himself sounded remotely coherent when he thought about articulating it. "It's just...a nice thing to do? For a friend.” "Uh huh," she planted her elbows on the counter, chin propped up on her hands, "so where's my expensive gift?” He couldn't control the face he made at that. It was too fucking telling apparently because her face smoothed out, like she had the missing puzzle piece, the internal 'gotcha'. "Steve. Did you buy gifts for Nancy?" It didn't matter how slow she asked the question, it still struck him in the gut. He wheezed. None of the bullshit he'd been telling himself these last few weeks held up under Robin's scrutiny, she'd ripped the planks off all the boarded up windows. He wasn't buying nice things for a friend. He was courting Eddie. “Oh, fuck,” he grunted. “What the fuck am I doing?”

Show Me Your Teeth by entanglednow

Explicit - 7.8k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Play Fighting, First Kiss, First Time, Getting Together, Kink Discovery, Kink Exploration, Biting, so much biting, Bitemarks, Rimming, Sexual Content, Idiots in Love, Eddie Munson is a Mess

Eddie Munson apparently didn't get the memo that you can't just bite the people you're interested in. But Steve decides that he's surprisingly willing to hear him out.

if somebody loves you (won't they always love you?) by twelvexclara

Explicit - 13.5k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Exes to Lovers, Forced Proximity, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Steve Harrington, Alpha Eddie Munson, Intersex Omegas, Rejection Sickness, Cunnilingus, Rough Sex, Knotting, Breeding Kink, Unsafe Sex, Beta Read, Stress Heat

“Steve—” “Nope,” Steve snaps, cutting Eddie off. “Not doing this right now, sorry.” There’s a moment of silence, before— “I just think we should talk about—” A bubble of laughter forces its way up Steve’s throat, slipping past his mouth. He turns to face Eddie, ready to spit venom at the man, but that’s when he takes in Eddie's face. - When Eddie breaks up with Steve seemingly out of nowhere, Steve scrambles to pick up the pieces in the aftermath of it.

we can be ghosts by hydrangea_bush

Mature - 8.3k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Strangers to Lovers, Shipwrecks, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Banter, Pirate!Eddie Munson, Sailor!Steve Harrington

“Are you a pirate?” Steve demands. “Are you afraid of me?” he counters, lips curling into an amused smile. // After a fierce storm leaves Steve shipwrecked and delirious on the ocean, he finds himself rescued by the mysterious captain of The Hellfire. Someone who seems too familiar for his own good.

Did Someone Mix You Up? by fabeld

Explicit - 25.4k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Post-Stranger Things 2, Pre-Stranger Things 3, Making Out, Internalized Homophobia, Period Typical Attitudes, Steve's Parents Are Not Abusive, Gay Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Recreational Drug Use, Dysfunctional Relationships

Steve rolled onto his side and studied Eddie's face. The slope of his nose and the outline of his jaw, where dark stubble grew in patches. “What's it like?” Steve asked. “Kissing another guy?”

We Passed the Setting Sun by etienne (FanfictionForAtheists)

Teen and Up - 5.7k - Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson - Trees, The Upside Down (Stranger Things), Hurt Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Brain Damage, Deaf Steve Harrington, Deaf Character, Eddie Munson Lives, Or does he:3, Loneliness, Isolation, Steve Harrington's Pool, Minor Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Confessions, Love Confessions, Brain Damage, meow, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 04, Canon Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt No Comfort, Emotionally Repressed, Death, Scars, Hurt Eddie Munson, Other Characters Are Mentioned, Trauma, Purple

Steve sometimes had to check himself in the mirror to make sure that everything that he remembered had happened. And then he’d see the myriad of scar tissue, and the way that he couldn’t hear what he was saying, despite seeing his chapped lips move, and he’d remember that 'oh yeah, I may or may not be living above literal hell'. or It's November 1990, over four years since the events of series four. Everyone has their own lives now, but Steve... Steve is lost. -- The Steddie Tree Fic

That was a lot, folks. Have fun.