#eddie and metal music
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jvpit3rzt34 · 1 year ago
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okay, but Eddie as a goofy vampire villain
anytime he comes to like kill them or whatever he just has to make the most dramatic entrance, and he’ll be playing his metal songs on his guitar every single time no matter how much it will make it so they escape every time
just like there’s soo much potential there that i so desperately need
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steddiehyperfixation · 2 months ago
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hc that steve actually likes metal and listens to it regularly, just always pretty quietly. so when eddie, who never has his stereo turned down to anything below 40 and even that's too quiet sometimes, gets in steve's car one day to hear metallica playing through the speakers with the volume only set to like 7, he's immediately torn between being ecstatic that steve is listening to one of his favorite bands and outrage that he's not giving it the proper listening experience it deserves
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heavymetal · 6 months ago
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"Uh, you can start with these," Eddie said, handing Steve a few of his CDs. "There's Dio, Ozzy, and Iron Maiden."
Steve took them gratefully. "Thanks. The kids tell me Wham! won't cut it for the car."
Eddie smiled. "Yeah, no." He turned back to his CD rack. "I also have less metal and more punk, but I feel like the kids wouldn't like that. But like, uh, Dead Kennedys and The Queers. Also Sex Pistols, but they're kinda basic. And I know Baby Byers is familiar with The Clash, so..." he laughed awkwardly, realizing he was rambling.
Steve was listening with interest. He would never admit it, but he liked hearing Eddie talk. "I think these three are good," he said finally, holding up the CDs. "Thanks again."
"Yeah no problem," Eddie walked him to the door.
Steve walked down the grass before Eddie called out to him, "A Different Corner! It's a good song!"
Steve turned around, looking confused and Eddie chuckled awkwardly, scratching his head. "Uh, Wham!-?"
Steve nodded in understanding. "I dunno, I'd say pretty basic," he said, copying Eddie's earlier words and he continued to walk back with a smile on his face, leaving Eddie standing by the door of the trailer.
"Bastard," Eddie muttered, closing the door, smiling wide.
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eroticlamb · 1 month ago
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Van Halen outside of Buckingham Palace, London, 1978 ♡ Photographed by Fin Costello
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imagine eddie is the lead singer of corroded coffin but his natural singing voice is naturally like josh kiszka's from greta van fleet
it hurts his throat a lot to try and sing in the loud, hoarse, raspy screams he feels like he should be, being a metal band and all, so one of the nights at the hideout he's like "Okay, this is kinda different from what we try to play, but shit's killing my throat so here's this instead."
his 'real' singing voice wakes up those 5 drunk regulars and the next week they bring more people (and so did eddie apparently, because he can see steve, robin, and nancy grinning up at him from the crowd).
the boys play one of their own scream-y more traditional metal songs, then another, then when they try to close with a cover, one of the regulars yells out "Play that highway one again!"
"…The what?"
"That shit you played last week, the one about a highway girl!"
Eddie looks around at his bandmates, who look just as confused as he feels.
"This one..?" he plays the first notes, and that one regular and a couple others whoop and holler.
"Hell yeah, play that one again!"
"Uh…yeah, sure man, you got it.." Eddie shrugs nonchalant, but damn! he wants to show off for his friends! that shit last week was a fluke, one of his own songs he was sure the other guys didn't want to play in the first place.
he glances around at his bandmates and they all look shocked but delighted at the request, so they play it again (after an unneeded apologetic look from eddie, they really like eddie's song!).
when they finish, the now 10 people in the bar cheer and hoot and holler, and when they make their way off the stage, there are a couple people who stop them with "That was really good, do you have any more like that?", "Never heard nothin' like that before, you kids got somethin' special.", and "Y'all better be back next week, 'cause I sure will be." from the patrons, and a harried, ecstatic "Dude, please tell me you have more," from Jeff.
and also something about how since that night all of steve's thoughts are consumed completely by eddie's voice because "Holy shit did you hear him, Robin??"
idk, just eddie being a songwriter that can't help but get his influences from his uncle's preference for blues and folk music when writing and then again, can't help but mix it with his love of hard/classic rock but him never using any of it or even suggesting it to the other guys because it wasn't corroded coffin's and wasn't metal but that being exactly what shoots them into stardom
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bring-me-the-distillers · 4 months ago
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vancruejovi · 10 months ago
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Eddie Van Halen 🎸
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mayaluvzyou · 1 year ago
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Rambling
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Eddie Munson x Reader blurb
Warnings: Not much, just mild swearing and the fluffiest fluff ever
Summary: Eddie thinks he talks too much, but you don't mind.
A/N: This is so super short and probably inaccurate for his character, but I just wanted to write about Eddie ranting bc that's so him.
××××××××××××××××××××
Those eyes. Those warm, lively, chocolate colored eyes. Sometimes, they spoke more than his mouth did. As of right now, they were speaking with the same intensity.
About a half hour ago, Eddie called you as you were just finishing up homework. The boy sounded like he'd just ran up and down the street a hundred times.
"Hey, Eds, what's up?"
"Can I come over and scream about something? Because talking about it over the phone doesn't cut it."
"Yeah, of course."
"I'll be over in like- I dunno- five minutes? See ya then."
"Okay, bye, ba-"
He'd been too excited, to the point where he hung up before letting you reply. Eddie's elation was very evident with the way he'd been ranting about Metallica's newest album, ...And Justice For All, for the past fifteen minutes, after finally getting to listen to it on vinyl.
"--And, seriously, the-the intros to almost all of the songs are just- holy shit! Y'know what I mean? Like, especially in Blackened and To Live is to Die- especially To Live is to Die. It starts off all acoustic and mellow n' all that, then the electric fades in and it just fits. The coolest thing about that, is the song is apparently a tribute to Cliff Burton, one of the most metal bassists of all time, and I just-" Eddie cut himself off to look up at you from his wild hand gestures.
"Keep going." You replied simply, hand on your cheek as you ogled at him with utmost adoration.
Those big eyes stayed staring at you for a moment before he spoke up again, hands frozen in mid air.
"I'm rambling again, huh?"
"I never said I didn't like it."
"But, do you even understand what I'm talkin' about?"
You stayed silent for a moment, taking in the sight in front of you. His chest in that Black Sabbath tank-top moving just slightly faster than it usually would because of how much air he needed to rant non-stop, cheeks lightly flushed with both embarrassment and excitement.
"I don't need to understand what you're talking about to understand how much interest you have in it. It's cute." You smiled gently, watching the soft, pinkish hue to his cheeks grow just a little more prominent.
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He's so me. (I literally wrote him in this)
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5arabellaturner5 · 1 year ago
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He is soooo prettyy
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sleepy-steve · 2 months ago
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(pray) ‘til i go blind
wc: 4k // rating: M // cw: language // tags: modern au, metal burlesque performer eddie munson, audience participant steve harrington, very blasphemous song lyrics (see ao3 link for other tags)
♡ read on ao3 ♡ or below the cut ♡
Steve sees Eddie staring right at him, eyes dark as sin and ringed by even darker makeup. And that beautiful, cheeky smirk in full force as he slowly lowers himself down to a crouch. Steve meets Eddie’s eyes and feels the air disappear from his lungs. He's mesmerised. "And you would too if this sexy devil caught your eye..." He holds a hand out to Steve, and Steve can do nothing else but take it and be pulled up to the stage.
song referenced is Rev 22:20 (Don’t Shoot The Messenger Version) by Puscifer (one of my personal favourite filthy dance songs).
It was one thing to be an audience member. To sit in the crowd and clap or cheer when appropriate. These were all things Steve could do, and if it meant an evening spent with his best friend, he was more than happy to do it. (And if he saw some boobs in the process, he was also happy with that.) 
It was Robin’s absolute insistence that he would enjoy tonight’s burlesque show in particular, despite his general ambivalence toward the production as a whole, that gave him pause. The music didn’t really do anything for him, though he could appreciate the performances. And sure, he liked seeing beautiful women dance as much as the next dude. Why was she so convinced he would like this show more than any other? With no answers to his wondering, he sat comfortably, enjoyed his drinks, and tried to be a model audience member.
What was less in his comfort zone was sitting at a table right up front, basically right under each performer’s nose. It’s not that he didn’t enjoy the view, but he did wonder about how the performers might feel having him gawking from behind his glasses right up at them from such a close distance. Throughout the night, both Steve and Robin are among a few selected for some level of performer interaction. Dancers waving their fluffy feather fans in their faces, tossing clothing garments at them, trailing their hands over arms and shoulders, and in one case, a cute redheaded performer allowing her long satin glove to be shakily pulled off by Robin.
After a brief break, the emcee announces the fifth and final dancer of the evening. Steve finds himself a little disappointed, having had more fun than he originally thought. But he joins the audience in applauding for the next performer.
The stage goes dark. He hears the faint tapping of someone stepping on stage. Slightly different to the previous performers, less snappy. Different shoes. A beat of silence, before a red spotlight flashes on. On the stage, a figure stands with their arms raised and crossed above their head. Curls hang around their shoulders, different to the perfectly pinned and sprayed curls of the previous dancers. This hair is wild.
A beat kicks in. It's heavy and dark, reverberating in the floors. The figure lowers their arms, wrists twisting and gloved fingers snapping on the beat. A female voice sings a harmony and the figure turns in time with it, facing the audience, additional warm spotlights flashing on, and a jolt runs through Steve.
It's a man. Probably one of the most beautiful men he's ever seen. Wearing ripped jeans and what looks to be a leather jacket, the man is running a gloved hand across his chest, touch featherlight. The voice sings again, moaning almost, and the dancer—Eddie, Steve belatedly recalls the emcee introducing him as—slowly pulls the jacket open, revealing a loose black tank top. He runs a hand up his tattooed neck and back down his chest. The audience cheers, a few low whoops coming from the back.
Another moaning vocal. With a cheeky grin that makes Steve's heart skip, Eddie lets the jacket fall down to his elbows, revealing even more tattoos on his shoulders and arms. His gloved hands trail down to his hips, and on the last harmony, he moves his hips back in a slow half-circle.
"Don't be aroused," a male voice croons in the music. "By my confession..."
Eddie looks out at the audience, who are captivated by the way he owns the stage. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Steve notes that Eddie has barely done anything at all, yet the audience is completely transfixed by him. He takes a few slow, confident steps, searching the crowd below him.
"Unless you don't give a good goddamn about redemption..." Standing up tall, Eddie lets his jacket drop to the ground behind him, the audience cheering as he does. The gloves reach to just below his elbow, and the tattoos disappear beneath them. Steve imagines what his hands might look like—how they might feel—the realisation that he's not really thought about another man's hands before quickly shoved to the back of his mind.
"I know Christ is comin', and so am I..." Leaving the jacket behind, Eddie walks again, stopping right in front of Steve and Robin's table. Steve glances at Robin, partially excited and partially fearful, only to see her with a grin that says exactly what he knows she's thinking right now: I was right.
Looking back up, Steve sees Eddie staring right at him, eyes dark as sin and ringed by even darker makeup. And that beautiful, cheeky smirk in full force as he slowly lowers himself down to a crouch, ripped jeans opening further to reveal even more tattoos. Steve meets Eddie’s eyes and feels the air disappear from his lungs. He's mesmerised.
"And you would too if this sexy devil caught your eye..."
He holds a hand out to Steve, and Steve can do nothing else but take it and be pulled up to the stage. The audience cheers—though none louder than Robin—as Steve is guided by Eddie, and led to a chair that he did not see before. As Steve sits facing the audience, Eddie leans down to his ear and whispers, "Is it okay if I touch you?"
Steve looks at him in surprise and nods quickly. This close, Steve can see the two nostril piercings, and the silver ball nestled in the scoop of his cupid bow. It's unbelievably hot.
"Anywhere?" Eddie clarifies, letting his gloved hand run up Steve's arm to his shoulder. Steve nods again, trying hard not to think about what anywhere could mean—what he absolutely wants it to mean. Eddie winks at him, smirk back in place on his plush lips, and moves behind Steve, hands running over his shoulders, down and across his chest. He leans over from behind, wild curls tickling Steve's neck. Wanting to reach out and touch so badly, Steve keeps his hands firmly clasped in his lap, trying to behave. Flicking his hair behind him, Eddie tips Steve’s head gently to the side, exposing his neck. Steve feels warm breath on his skin, and then the drag of teeth and lips along the length of his neck and holy shit. Feeling hot everywhere, Steve takes a shuddering inhale. Sliding his gloved hands off Steve’s head, Eddie walks around again, this time in front of the chair.
He drops, crashing to his knees at the edge of the stage as the music ramps up. "Pray! 'Til I go blind..." The audience cheers as the vocals scream.
"Pray!" Eddie rolls his head, curls flicking around him in a wide arc, long tattooed neck stretched and exposed before his hair settles around him again. "'Cause nobody ever survives..."
Arms crossed over the front of his body, and gripping at the bottom of his tank top—which from this close view, Steve thinks may actually be a cut up band tee—Eddie cocks his head, teasing the audience. Waiting for them to cheer louder. He pulls it up a few inches, no doubt showing off more tattoos on his belly, if the ones on his back were anything to go off. The audience screams, encouraging him to take it off.
"Saviours and saints, devils and heathens alike, she'll eat you alive..."
The music slows back down, and Eddie drops his shirt back down. Steve lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Jesus, since when was he so ramped up about another man taking his shirt off? He doesn't have much time to think about it, because Eddie has turned himself around to face Steve, grin that borders on evil with glee on his face. Steve feels his eyes widen.
"Jesus is risen, it's no surprise..." He drags himself close to Steve, kneeling before him, a hand on each of his knees, pushing Steve's legs open. Steve swallows as the gloved hands trail up and down his thighs, before resting back on his knees.
"Even he would martyr his mama to ride to hell between those thighs..." Eddie leans forward, swinging his hair in a figure-eight, face dangerously close to Steve's crotch, and holy shit, Steve thinks he may lose his entire mind. Leaning back again, Eddie gives him a quick look as if to ask, all good? Steve gives a faint nod. Eddie smiles up at him, a genuine and very sweet smile, before shifting back from Steve, pulling himself up off his calves.
"If I gotta sin to see her again, then I'm gonna lie, lie, lie!" Eddie swings his arms across his body, head swinging and hair flicking in time with the words, in a way that would be almost thrashing were he not so purposeful and smooth with it.
He then lowers himself backward, back arched as the top of his head taps the stage, knees still bent beneath him. Steve faintly thinks it looks uncomfortable, but has no time to ponder on it because Eddie is running those gloved hands up his arched chest, pulling the tank top up and up, showing off his tattooed abdomen. The shirt bunches just below his chest, hands continuing up to glide and grab at his own neck, silver chain gripped and pulled taut at his throat.
"Gladly now please suck me dry..." Steve watches unblinkingly as Eddie opens his mouth, slowly pushing two gloved fingers inside, letting them drag back out over his tongue. Mouth watering at the sight, Steve thinks about what else Eddie’s mouth and tongue might be capable of.
Steve snaps out of it quickly, because Eddie has pulled back up, standing with a thump of his combat boots, stepping to the side of Steve's chair so he's side-on with the audience now. He stands with his right arm outstretched toward Steve and one finger raised on the other hand. Steve notices the smirk back in place.
"Pray! 'Til I go blind..." Eddie shoves the finger into the opening of the glove below his elbow, before pulling it out slowly. He raises two fingers this time.
"Pray! 'Cause nobody ever survives..." He shoves two fingers into the glove opening this time, self satisfied look on his face as the audience screams and cheers. Eddie raises three fingers. Steve thinks he may pass away in the chair.
"Prayin' to stay in her arms just until I can die a little longer..." He shoves the three fingers into the glove, using them to push down the leather in time with the music. When the glove is mostly bunched around his wrist, Eddie pulls at the middle finger, dragging the fabric off of his hand slowly, letting it stretch back out. Once it leaves his hand, he flicks it off into the audience to wild cheers, just in time for the music to slow down again.
Eddie turns to Steve now, a look of absolute mischief on his face. With his now bare hand—Steve was right, the tattoos do continue all the way down to his hands—he pulls lightly at the middle finger of the other glove, loosening it slightly. He then leans forward, bending at the hips with a sinful smile, hand held aloft near Steve's mouth, and says, "Bite it."
Steve leans in, taking the fingertip of the leather glove between his teeth and slowly pulls back. The glove barely shifts, Eddie’s hand pulled close to Steve's face.
"My pulse has been rising, my temples are pounding..." Eddie pulls back slightly, jerking his arm softly but acting as though it's taking much more effort. He runs his free hand up his chest, to his neck, as though the act of having his glove pulled off is turning him on.
"The pressure is so overwhelming and building..." The music is starting to build up again, Eddie’s movements growing more erratic along with it. He pulls and pulls, arm slowly being revealed, mouth hanging open like he's panting and eyes hooded as he looks to the audience, his free hand dragging back down his chest.
As the music reaches its peak again, Eddie lets his hand free of the glove—which swings back down to Steve's sweater with a soft tap—chest heaving with the false exertion of it. Steve is stunned, glove fingertip still between his teeth, unsure what he's meant to do with it, and unsure why this is one of the hottest things he's ever participated in.
Eddie now faces the audience, looking down, back up at them, and down again. His hand is at his jeans, teasingly pulling at the fly, his other hand raised to his ear, as though he can't hear the deafening cheers of the audience. When they've reached a loud enough volume to satisfy him, he yanks open the button and zipper, letting the denim hang open. It's not until Eddie turns back to Steve that he sees the black lace now revealed beneath the denim. It sends a bolt of electricity through Steve, jaw dropped slightly, glove now in his lap.
With another cheeky grin, Eddie turns, Steve realising quickly what the man intends. He shoves the glove into his own jeans pocket just as Eddie settles himself on Steve's lap, back against Steve's chest. Grabbing Steve's hands, he settles them on his hips, head hanging back over Steve's shoulder, lips dangerously close to Steve's neck. As Eddie runs his hands up his own chest, pulling at the shirt again, Steve's breath hitches in his throat, and he could swear Eddie is holding back a laugh.
The music is wild as Eddie pulls his shirt higher, body rolling slowly against Steve's, his ass pressing into Steve's crotch with each roll. Eddie sits up slightly, giving just enough space to pull the loose tank over his head, finally revealing the rest of his tattooed chest—and fuck, the guy is covered from the neck down it looks like—and more importantly, a lacy black bra. Steve tries not to grip any tighter to Eddie’s hips as he flings the shirt into the audience.
Laying back down to Steve's chest, he grabs Steve's hands and guides them up, letting them run over his hot skin, fingers trailing over the man’s ribs, up to the lacy black bra. Feeling the smooth metal of Eddie’s nipple piercings makes Steve feel hot all over, not at all helped by the man's fluid body rolls against him. Eddie continues to move his hands though, finally guiding Steve's fingers to the little clasp at the centre of his chest. With trembling fingers, Steve fiddles with the clasp until it comes undone. Continuing the rolls and not-so fake panting—now that it's right by Steve’s ear, he can hear the little huffs of breath—Eddie keeps a grasp on Steve's wrists, keeping Steve's hands firmly over his chest.
The music begins to fade, and Eddie releases Steve's hands, standing up quickly. The open lace bra slips down to his hands, to uproarious applause and cheering from the audience. Eddie pulls at the straps and slingshots it into the audience with a clear laugh that Steve can hear from his chair. The music has stopped, and the crowd continues their cheering. Eddie takes a deep bow, then stands with devil horns raised on both hands.
He turns to Steve with that same genuine smile from earlier in the show, taking his hand and pulling him up to standing. Eddie gestures to Steve with both arms outstretched, as though showcasing him. The audience continues their cheers, and Steve's face grows so hot, he's surprised his glasses haven't started fogging up.
All too soon, the emcee is thanking everyone for coming to the show and Eddie is taking Steve's hand to help him off the stage with another wink and cheeky smile. Steve only says a very quiet "thank you" before Eddie has released his hand and started walking off backstage.
Then Robin is all over him, chattering excitedly about how cool the whole thing was and that she tried to film as much of it as she could but she thinks she might have missed some because she was so into the performance that her phone fell away from them.
"See?! I told you that you'd love this!" She laughs, grabbing his arms. Steve is still a bit starstruck, but Robin misreads it. "Hey, are you good? Was it too much for you?"
"No, no, Robs, it was great," Steve says, a little sadly. "I'm just, uh. Never gonna see him again, am I?"
"Who? Eddie?" Robin asks.
Steve only gives her a sheepish look, embarrassed to have even admitted his fear of not seeing Eddie again.
Raising a brow at him, Robin looks pointedly down at his pants. "Uh, you might just, Stevie." Steve follows her gaze with a frown.
He still has the leather glove in his pocket.
Steve looks back to her, wide eyed with nerves. Robin just snorts at him, patting him on the arm. “Come on, dingus. Let’s grab another drink, maybe your new friend will come looking for his glove.”
They settle in at the bar, Robin laughing as she makes Steve watch the video of him on stage, looking flustered as hell. His face burns with more embarrassment, but she asserts how proud she is of him for doing something like this. With another drink in his system, he’s able to find the humour in it. If nothing else, it’s a crazy story he’ll get to tell his friends about.
A low husky voice in Steve’s ear makes him jump. “I believe you have something of mine, sweetheart.”
Steve turns on his barstool to see Eddie standing behind him, shirt back on and jeans buttoned back up. Most of the eye makeup is gone, but smudges of black still line his lashes, making his dark eyes seem even bigger. From his periphery, he notices that Robin has dutifully stayed facing the bar. Pulling the glove out of his pocket, he bashfully hands it over. “Uh, sorry about that,” Steve says, other hand going to the back of his neck. “I think I just panicked about what to do with it.”
Eddie takes it back with a smile, shoving it into his own pocket. “No problem, at least you didn’t try to take off with it. You wouldn’t believe the amount of clothes I lose to audience theft.”
“I can imagine,” Steve laughs.
“Yeah, I mean, the staff do a great job at collecting my things from the audience, but some people are sneaky, y’know?” Eddie kind of rambles a bit, hands twirling and gesturing with his words. It’s super cute, Steve realises, a grin growing on his face as he forgets to actually respond.
Humming, Eddie nods, probably thrown by Steve’s lack of response. “So! Did you have fun? I’ve been told I can go a little… overboard, sometimes.”
Steve chuckles nervously, hand automatically brushing through his hair. “Not overboard at all, but it was my first time doing anything like that. Definitely had, uh, a good time.” He can feel his cheeks heating again.
The charming persona comes over Eddie again, as he leans in with a smirk. “Well, you were a great audience participant,” he says, like it’s a secret he’s sharing. Steve can see a very faint dusting of freckles across Eddie’s nose and Christ, could this guy get any hotter?
Smile growing bigger and cheeks growing hotter, Steve just manages a quiet “thanks” and what the hell?! Steve knows how to flirt, he knows how to respond when he’s being flirted with. But something about Eddie, with his tattoos and his piercings and his cheeky smiles… it’s all just turning Steve into a puddle. The silence stretches between them, growing almost awkward, as they look at each other. From his side, Steve can sense Robin practically vibrating next to him. He can only imagine that she’s losing her mind over the tension between them. Or his stupidity. Maybe both.
Playing with his hair—pulling slightly on a curl by his shoulder—Eddie clears his throat. “Well, I, uh. Better get back to the, y’know. Packing up. Backstage.” He scratches at the back of his neck. “Um, it was lovely to meet you…?”
Steve blinks at the sudden change in conversation. “Steve!” He says, feeling slightly panicked. He holds his hand out and immediately thinks he must look like a massive idiot.
Eddie smiles at him, almost… resigned? “Eddie,” he says, gesturing to himself before taking Steve’s hand. “Lovely to meet you… Steve.” Eddie says his name like it’s fucking reverent. Steve feels his soul about to leave his body.
“You too,” Steve says, not wanting to let go. They finally let their hands fall away, Eddie taking two slow steps backwards—eyes still locked on Steve’s—before turning. Robin immediately jabs Steve in the ribs with her sharp elbow, making him gasp in pain.
“Unless!” Steve calls out, not even completely sure where he’s going with it.
Eddie looks over his shoulder, not quite turning back to him. “Unless…?”
“Would you, uh, like a drink, maybe?” God, even Steve can hear how pathetic he sounds.
With a grin that’s… actually quite shy, Eddie pulls a lock of his hair across his face. “Yeah… I’d like that,” he says, voice soft.
Steve goes home with Eddie’s number in his phone and a date planned for the next night.
immediately post-show, backstage:
Eddie flies into the dressing room and dramatically flops down across the beat up old armchair with a sigh.
“Great show tonight, Eddie!” Vickie is sitting at the mirror, all her belongings packed up. “The audience was going crazy!”
Letting out a hum that turns into a groan, Eddie rests his forearm over his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, turning to him on her stool.
“Vickieeee…” Eddie whines. “My beloved Victoria—”
“Not my name.”
“I’m in love!” Eddie cries, letting his head hang back over the armrest.
Vickie snorts. “God, dare I ask with whom?”
Eddie whines again, a loud moan coming from deep in his soul. He sighs again. “Soft swoopy hair… big, beautiful hazel eyes and glasses… moles like a constellation on his skin… Vickie, he can’t be real. He just can’t be. No one should look that good in a yellow sweater.”
“Yellow…?” Vickie trails off before gasping and leaping to the floor by Eddie’s head. “Your audience participant?! No. Eddie. Edward. Say it isn’t so!”
Holding both hands over his face, Eddie lets out another wallowing moan, before opening his fingers to reveal one eye. “I… bit him.”
Gasping, Vickie slaps the floor with both hands. “You didn’t!”
“I did!” Eddie wails, covering his face again.
“Oh my god!” Vickie laughs.
“Hey, Eddie.” Gareth walks in, holding a small bundle of black fabric. “Great show tonight. We got almost everything back, but we’re missing… one glove. Sorry, man.”
“Thanks, Gareth,” Eddie says miserably. Gareth drops the pile of clothes on the armchair and heads back out with a two-finger salute.
Vickie turns to him with light in her eyes. “Eddie, Eddie, look at me.” She shakes his arm until he turns his forlorn gaze to her. “Mister Yellow Sweater has your glove.” 
Eddie just looks at her, his brain processing too slowly.
“Go!” she cries, pulling him up. “Go and find him, he’s probably still here!”
“What? No!” Eddie lets himself go limp and heavy against her pulls. “Just leave me to my yearning for what will never be.”
“Eddie, I swear to god,” she says with effort, finally pulling him up. “Get out there and find your man. And your glove.”
Groaning loudly, Eddie stands up and finds his shirt in the pile. “Fine. If only to get my glove back, I’ll go and find Mister Perfect Hair.”
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metalcultbrigade · 8 months ago
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Eddie Van Halen, 1979. Photo by Neil Zlozower
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heavymetal · 10 months ago
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"Uh, just this please," Steve said, handing the CD to the guy behind the counter.
He gave Steve a weird look. "Are you sure you want this?"
Steve nodded, sweating. "Yup."
"You do know it's Ozzy Osbourne, right?" the guy said, looking for the price. He glanced up at Steve; striped polo shirt, perfect swiped hair, and all. "It's not Wham! or ABBA. That'll be fifteen."
Steve handed him a twenty. "It's for my friend. He likes Ozzy. But he prefers Dio, but I much prefer Ozzy than Dio. So I will be buying this one, so I get to listen to it with him rather than having to listen to Dio." He took the bag the guy gave him. "But honestly, Mötley Crüe is my jam."
"Yeah man," the guy just looked weirded out, "here's your receipt."
Steve gave him finger guns. "Coolio, man," he said, trying to be slick, but he ended up tripping on the way out of the store.
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morganbritton132 · 2 years ago
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based on one of your latest tiktok saga posts:
I'm convinced that when people heard billy hargrove apparently had a crush on steve, a small but dedicated portion of eddie's followers started jokingly stanning billy. the cross section of conspiracy theorists / shitposters absolutely clowns all over eddie's comments with shit like "simping for the man who hit you with his car is king behaviour" and "wow, steve literally ran this guy over and he really just said thank you m'am. pathetic. I'm kissing him on the mouth btw."
I also like to imagine eddie would absolutely loathe this development
Oh my god, this is hilarious and very, very apt for internet culture. People were jokingly stanning Billy and then someone with an old Hawkins High yearbook posts a picture of him, and people realized he was hot then, game over. It’s the worst week of Eddie’s life and he once was on the run for murder, fought an interdimensional slime monster with daddy issues, and died in the same week.
I think Eddie absolutely adores fan art. His studio is lined with art that people have given him and that he’s bought from fans. He was even more over the moon when people started drawing art of him and Steve, but then. Then, these very talented jokesters in his comments are posting fan art of Steve with Billy.
Just imagine the amount of discourse Billy would create on the internet. It’d be worse than the discourse in the ST fandom, because Eddie has never had an opinion that he hasn’t shared. He’d let people know that he hates this. Billy was a bully who harassed him and his friends and liked shitty music.
This would egg people on more, I think, because that’s how the internet works. But Dustin, as president of the Steve Harrington fan club, would not let that slide. He posts a Tiktok like, “Uh, guys. You’re very talent artists and all, but uh. Billy Hargrove tried to kill Steve. He *picture of Steve after Hopper took him to the hospital* beat Steve up really bad and he wouldn’t have stopped if Max didn’t drug him. He ran me and my friends off the road once. And he was racist. He tried to fight Lucas.”
Max also posts. She talks about how hard it was after Billy died and how it nearly killed her, but she also talks about how he wasn’t a good brother, how afraid she was of him, and how he attacked Lucas and attacked Steve for sticking up for them. She doesn’t really want to see him on her FYP.
This leads to so much fighting between people who view Billy as their new white boy of the month and people who are like, why are you retraumatizing that girl in a wheelchair (I imagine post-season 4 Max does have mobility of her legs and walks with a limp or a cane, but sometimes still has to use a wheelchair). It’s just very annoying until the next big scandal happens and people stop talking about it.
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jarofalicesgrunge · 7 months ago
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Temple of the Dog
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