#jonathan sure is in a lot of stuff..........

[wojtekaneko]

That's how it went

[vickyvicarious]

I looked out over the beautiful expanse, bathed in soft yellow moonlight till it was almost as light as day. In the soft light the distant hills became melted, and the shadows in the valleys and gorges of velvety blackness. The mere beauty seemed to cheer me; there was peace and comfort in every breath I drew.

Jonathan Harker: "Yes I am a prisoner. Yes, my legal services are complete now. Yes, I just wrote a letter that I am fine and staying over, and therefore can I be disposed of any day now. Yes, my sleep schedule is screwed because I stay up all night with my captor and play nice.

But this shan't stop me from waxing poetic about the velvet darkness over nature and the soft moonlight!"

Jonathan: I Am Going To Seize This Moment Of Peace And Beauty And You Can't Stop Me

Dracula: wanna bet? *lizards*

[hallowsden]

DC x DP idea thing #1

Uncle Scarecrow Au

Essentially, in this AU thing, Maddie, and Jonathan Crane are cousins (their moms were sisters) that often see eachother when Maddie's family visits Georgia before contact was cut due to Grandma Marion and Great-Grandma Keeny

Jonathan and Maddie managed to reconnect for a year or two through letters when Maddie started college and Jonny boy is in the middle of getting his doctorate but lost contact after Maddie got busier with studies and Jonathan went to Gotham. They're on good terms with each other and once in a while in recent years, they'd give each other updates (and gifts. Danny and Jazz grew up hearing a bit from/about Jonathan when they were younger but stopped hearing about him around the time when he became the Scarecrow. So, let's just say when Danny's... 6? Ngl, DC timeline is messy and confusing at times)

Maddie and Jack only recently learned that Danny's a halfa, the ghost king at that, and accepts it. They start helping him wrangle up some of the rogue ghosts and throw them back to the GZ when not even a week later, the GIW started swarming Amity Park immediately.

This causes the Fenton Family to escape (though not unscathed) and end up going to Gotham, not just cause Jazz is studying there, or the fact that there's enough ambient ectoplasm energy there to cover up Danny's signature, but because Jack's apparently from there, has connections too, while Maddie knows that Jonathan could help. She's his favorite cousin after all and adores Danny and Jazz from the bits and pieces she sent him about them.

"Madeline," The man in the burlap mask nodded to her.

"Jonathan," she nodded back.

Danny can't help but feel tense and wary as he stares down at the tall figure in front of him. This was Uncle Jonathan? Don't tell him he's as big of a fruitloop as Vlad.

Maddie stares at him before raising an eyebrow, "I see you still aren't taking care of yourself as you should, huh, Jonny?"

He scoffs, southern accent becoming a bit more prominent as he spoke, "like you're anyone to talk about habits, Maddie. Intellect may run in our blood but having normal, sane habits aren't. Don't you remember Great-Grandma Mary?"

The two burst out into some chuckles.

"Glad you're still alive and well, then, cousin," Maddie says, taking the hood of her jumpsuit off along with her goggles.

"Likewise," Jonathan replies, taking his ratty hat and burlap mask off revealing a sharp, gaunt face with a long, hook nose, pale blue eyes, and rusty auburn-colored, bordering brown, hair, "Now, what's this about a government branch coming for little Danny, and how... Sensitive are you to gore and other graphic imagery of sorts?"

"I mean, I already died and have to fight ghosts-..." Danny piped up immediately, only to shut his mouth up just as quickly.

"... Remind me to set up a proper therapy session for you later, child."

[rainedroptalks]

Okay okay, so Sasha had that whole interaction with Michael and made her statement in mag 26 right? But Tim and Martin don’t know who Michael is in mag 79

Which means she made her statement and just. Told no one

Which gives evidence to my theory that she found out a lot of stuff and just kept it to herself

[thestarsarecool]

Paul McCartney Interview in Q Magazine: Cash for Questions. January 1998 Issue.

Hi, all! A photo of one page of this has been around on tumblr for a while (here), but I’ve always wanted to read the full thing. Some lovely soul on Google Groups in 1997 decided to transcribe the full interview (here), so now I’m uploading it so you can read it. Hooray!

Q. When you first wrote a song with John Lennon, did you realise you would play one of the biggest parts in rock 'n' roll? (Michael McConnell, Crawley, West Sussex)

A. Obviously not. But even with all the so-called "historical" events that followed, you're just too inside it all, too busy doing it to realise anything's "historical". You just get on with it. I'm not a great ponderer. Some people would say that's a mistake but it's just the way I am. It's quite cool not to always get the overall picture because it leaves something to be found out. The musicologists get paid to discover the differences between me and John. I'm only just beginning to see it now, based probably on their analysis. So John is often one note, I'm often more melodic. (McCartney is thinking especially of Ian McDonald's book Revolution in the Head, where he describes the ace partnership in contrasts: Lennon's method is "harmonic, dissonant", McCartney's that of the "natural melodist".) It might sound amazing but we never spotted that when we were writing. We just did our thing. But it is kind of apparent when you bother to analyse it.

Q. If John Lennon could come back for a day, how would you spend it with him (Mark Wilson, Deeside, Flintshire)

A. In bed.

Q. Were you ever envious that Brian Epstein didn't fancy you? (Nick Gibson, London) 

A. No, I didn't mind. We just used to go to these clubs at night and wonder why there were so many men. It was OK. Brian was very cool about his side to things. I think the nearest any of us got to it was the John-going-to-Spain thing (it inspired the movie, The Hours And The Times) and I'm not sure what the strength of all that was. I think it was power play on John's part. But Brian kept his private life aside. He kept it out of our faces (pause, possibly for effect). He kept it out of mine, anyway.

Q. What were the last records you bought? (Chris Timms, Harrogate)

A. The Prodigy's The Fat Of The Land, Radiohead's OK Computer and Chopin's Nocturnes.

Q. How do you feel about all the animosity between you and Oasis right now? (Christina Vellano, Syracuse, New York, USA)

A. There is none as far as I'm concerned. What happened was I'd said, Good group, good singer, good songwriters. But people asked me about it so much that one time I decided to take it further and say that they don't mean anything to me. I am not related to Oasis. I wish them good luck and everything. But my kids mean something to me, John Lennon means something to me, but Oasis ....

Q. Who would you pick to play with in your dream six-piece band? (Alan Thatcher, Essex) 

A. Dream? So we're into fantasy, aren't we? Ringo, John, George, that's three. Me. Jimi Hendrix. That makes lots of guitarists, so Little Richard on keyboards.

Q. With Wings, did you feel pressurised to live up to The Beatles? (Andrew Williams, Neath)

A. Yes, it was a case of "follow that!". Impossible to do. Looking back on it, it's a lot better than I thought, though some of it is just not PLAYED as well as The Beatles. My son (James, co-worker on McCartney's last pop album, Flaming Pie) plays a lot of Wings, so I'm re-listening, and there's good shit that I'd forgotten about. A lot of the lyrics were off the wall, drug stimulated. Things like "Soily - the cat in the satin trousers says its oily". What was I on? I think the answer is stimulants.

Q. Do you still support the legislation of cannabis? (Grahame Woods, Northwood, Middlesex)

A. I would make a distinction between legalising and decriminalising. I'm in favour of the latter. The problem is that jails are stuffed full of kids doing what a lot of people do. Why stuff the jails with young kids? Plus it's one of the best places to score. I remember when I got busted in Japan, nobody made the slightest effort to rehabilitate me (laughs). Just stuck me in a box for nine days. Obviously you come out and you are fairly resentful.

Q. Do you roll a wicked joint? (Steve Kline, Bury)

A. I have nothing to say in answer to that question, m'lud. I wasn't even at the venue.

Q. The critics have been harsh on your solo work. Did this ever discourage you? (Robert Hemauer, Madison, Wisconsin, USA)

A. Yeah, sure, but you don't let it kill you. It's a difficult one, because it's never cool for someone to tell you you're shit. Many people through history were damned by the critics of their own time - Cezanne, Van Gogh, Stravinsky, all great painters! Ha ha!

Q. We'd like to see your paintings but can't get to the exhibition in Germany (McCartney unveils his work for the first time in Siegen, Germany, next year). Any thoughts about putting your paintings on "tour", or publishing a book of them? (Kathy Goodman, San Diego, CA, USA)

A. A difficult one. If you're a so-called celebrity - like Bowie, Anthony Quinn, Tony Curtis - and you exhibit any art, inevitably, people are not going to think of you as a real painter. Gallery owners come up to me and offer to give me exhibitions. I say, You haven't seen my pictures, and they say, It doesn't matter. Well, it does to me. Otherwise, it's just trading on the name. However, this guy from Germany came over, looked at all my paintings, seems to like them. He's telling me what they're all about.

Q. You've done so many things - classical, films, music, art, drugs - is there anything left you might have a go at? (Tim Bowler, Swansea)

A. The thing is how reluctant I've often been to have a go. I think we were brought up pretty repressed. Brought up to be seen and not heard, to stay in your place, particularly a working class thing. And I think - I hope - with The Beatles, we got rid of a lot of that. With the painting, for instance, it was Willem de Kooning who liberated me. I used to go to his studio, took in one of my paintings, said, Hey Bill, I hope you don't mind but can you tell me what it is? (Affects American drawl) "Oh, looks like a couch." Well it looked like a purple mountain to me. And he says, "Well, whatever." Here's one of the greats, his works go for one million, and it was great to see how little bullshit he was bringing to it all. It's really important to explode these myths that surround the arts, music, painting. It's Wizard of Oz time - so many myths, and it's often just a little man behind the screen. The paraphernalia that surrounds them gets in the way. Often you meet leaders in their field and they have none of that. I remember asking a great painter - Peter Blake, maybe - for some advice once, and he said "Just paint a lot". Similar to my approach to music.

Q. How do you know when a song's finished? (Joyce Slavik, Palatine, Illinois)

A. It's full up. You've answered all of your questions. Normally, I start following a thread: "Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice ... " The thread might come out of nowhere, and I follow it and complete it, like a crossword puzzle. When the crossword is full up, the song is finished.

Q. What's more embarrassing: writing Hi Hi Hi or Say Say Say? (Tien Vu, Costa Mesa, California)

A. (Weighs up pros and cons). Say Say Say.

Q. Why did you give such extensive interviews for an authorised biography (Paul McCartney: Many Years From Now) instead of writing an autobiography? (Deena Hochberg, Southampton, Pennsylvania)

A. I don't think I'm a writer. I've never been moved to do it. You have to have a pretty big fire in the belly to do something as big as that. I fancy music more. I'm happier writing in songs rather than in prose, or poetry. Though I wrote something that was never published about the time I got busted in Japan - for my kids. Because I knew one day they'd say, "Hey dad, what was it like, nine days in a Tokyo jail?". So I had a mate of mind, who did all our printing, knock up a few copies, one for each of the kids.

Q. I'd like to know if Sir Paul sings in the shower, and if so, what does he sing? (Jennifer Nash, Bursville, Minnesota)

A. It's normally the bath. I prefer a good bath. And the answer's Firestarter - "I'm a firestarter, de-de-de-de-dera."

Q. As a kid you used to play pranks at school by throwing balloons filled with something "worse than water". If you had one of those balloons right now who would you like to hit with it? (Brett Yuskiewicz, Leipzig, Germany)

A. Jonathan King. He's a prat from way back.

Q. Which football team did/does each Beatle support? (WC Chan, Maryland, USA)

A. None of us were big footie types. We weren't very sporty, unlike other groups who were always having knock-arounds. My dad was an Everton fan, which I was most of my life. But then Liverpool started playing well, and Everton didn't, so I took the unprecedented move of supporting them both. It's not allowed, I know, but there you go.

Q. For years, you've claimed it's you in the Walrus costume in the Magical Mystery Tour film. But watching the footage shows that for it to be you, you and John would have had to exchange all your clothes. Are you winding us up, or have you not watched the film in 30 years? (Dorothy Northcutt, Tucker, Georgia) 

A. The big one. Very good question. I tell you what it was. In the stills we had taken, I was the one with the Walrus head on - in the film it's different. So John then immortalised it in Glass Onion, "I've got news for you all, the walrus was Paul". Obviously at the time you don't care, it's just a Walrus head. You don't realise years later people like our friend from Georgia will analyse it.

Q. What is the quality of each of the other Beatles that you like(d) the best about? (S. Breggles, Richmond)

A. All of them - musical talent. All of them - honesty. Ringo -funny, and kind hearted. George - straightforward and open. John - witty with a soft centre, or maybe hard with a soft centre.

Q. Do the copulating beetles on the sleeve of Ram (1970) stand for F**k The Beatles? (Luc Van de Wiele, Wemmel, Belgium)

A. It happened to be a picture Linda had taken. We couldn't resist it just because of the way it looked. She'd caught these two beetles f**king, and then the significance hit us. We saw that pun, yeah, thought why not?

Q. Was there ever a third Lennon song for Anthology 3? (Jake Lennington, Rush City, MN, USA)

A. There was, but George didn't like it. The Beatles being a democracy, we didn't do it.

Q. I have a Beatles t-shirt which I bought from The Grapes (celebrated Liverpool pub). I was told the band are pictured in their favourite seats - adjacent to the Ladies where you would often catch a glimpse of the girls changing for an evening at The Cavern. True? (Alan Tomkins, Goring, West Sussex)

A. I hope so. It SOUNDS true. Had there been an opportunity to spot the girls changing, I'm sure we would have sat there.

Q. If you hadn't been a musician, what do you think you would have been? (Tony Carter, Manchester)

A. The only thing I could have probably qualified for was teaching. So I might have been an English teacher.

Q. Does it do your head in - stuff like the handwritten lyrics to Getting Better selling for $249,000 at Sothebys? (Peggy Robinson, Trinant, Gwent)

A. It's the price of fame - literally. You scribble them on the back of an envelope, and it gets to be famous. People want it, so it becomes a desirable object. Like Mozart's bog paper, which is another highly desirable object, apparently. More valuable obviously if it's been used.

Q. What is the inscription on the ID bracelet you wear? (Rachel Hyland, West Harford, Connecticut)

A. It says Paul - for when I forget who I am.

Q. How does it feel to have a star named after you (the christening courtesy of American astronomy fans)? (John Sales, Barry, Glamorgan)

A. Really cool. The good thing is that as you get on, your fans get on too. And some of them are pretty swotty. Like the people who started Apple, they were just Beatles fans, hence the name. You don't sit around looking at the sky, trying to find it, but it's like getting a very nice birthday present. I'm not religious, I don't believe in any one system - I sort of think the universe is basically benevolent and we f**k it up - but I am spiritual. I saw Stephen Hawking on TV the other night, and he was saying that we are made of the same stuff as the stars. Which is great. We are all stardust, luv.

Q. What do you want written on your gravestone? (Tom Mangold, Exeter) 

A. Here lies Gracie Fields. Anything to keep people away.

Q. Hey, is it true you are dead, and if you are, what is it like? (L.A. Patterson, Hamlet, North Carolina)

A. Yes. And it's very interesting. It's a very interesting afterlife.

[hairmetal666]

Steve has done interviews before. Like, a lot of interviews. YouTube, podcasts, print, TV stuff. Not as a brag, or anything, just. He's been an influencer for a long time, for better or worse, and it's part of the deal.

Usually, he's comfortable in front of the camera. Usually, he's poised and well-spoken. But today, this time, sweat pools under his arms and beads along his hairline, the lights beating down on him in a harsh glare.

"Steve Harrington," Murray Bauman crosses his legs, smiles big for the cameras. "It's been a while."

He smiles too, tries to seem like he's not about to have a panic attack. "I've been a little busy."

Murray laughs and it's then that Steve understands how screwed he really is. Murray's show, it's all glitz and glamour on the surface; mixed drinks and hijinks until the celebrity guests lose their inhibitions, admitting things they probably wanted to keep secret.

It's just that, before, Steve didn't have any salacious rumors to worry about, and now--

"You've had a rough year, Steve, yeah?"

"Not my best, for sure." He leans back, tries to seem calm, unbothered.

"I was sorry to hear about your divorce. I think that announcement really took a lot of people by surprise."

His hands clench, but he manages not to shift or bounce his leg. "Thanks for, uh. Yeah. We were also sorry it didn't work out."

Murray nods, face full of sympathy. "You and Nancy, you'd been together since high school? That's almost--what? 15 years?"

"It's--" he clears his throat. "About that long." Steve takes a sip of the drink next to him, an apple martini that's both too sweet and too strong.

"Am I right to assume that you didn't see it coming?"

And isn't that a question? Sure, now in hindsight, he can see the fractures that lead to the end, but six months ago did he--it's all so--what if all along--

"All marriages have rough patches," is what he says. "We just couldn't come out of ours as a couple."

"Do you know what I've found really remarkable about this phase of your life? The content and tone of your videos in the midst of the maelstrom of rumors and gossip didn't change at all. 'Your kids' as you call them, are still as bright and vibrant as ever. You're laughing, dancing, cooking, having a great time."

"I needed that--that normalcy you know? And the kids, they're such an important part of my life, having them around helped."

"Including Nancy's brother, Mike?"

Steve laughs and it's not fake. "Totally including Mike. My relationship with Nancy has nothing to do with my relationship with him."

"He's kind of an antagonist--would you say?--in your videos, though."

"We have conflict sometimes, but it's never serious. We know how to play it up for laughs."

"So, nothing's changed between you?"

"Not at all."

"The cheating rumors." Murray's smile is soft, but all the air still leaves the room.

"What about them?" It's more combative than he means, but--

"Did Nancy cheat on you with Jonathan Byers?"

He swallows and it hurts. She did cheat, is the thing. It's not public information, still only speculation, but--

"You can't believe everything you read, Murray."

"So, she didn't cheat?" There's a glow to Murray's eyes that tells Steve he already knows the answer.

"Like, I said before, marriages are hard. We spent a lot of time apart because of our jobs. It took a toll."

"And she was traveling with Jonathan, yes? He's been her photographer for the past decade, from what I understand."

"They were co-workers, but we're all close. And those rumors didn't help our relationship, for sure. It's--not easy to hear that a bunch of people think your wife and close friend may be having an affair, that people 'ship' them. Even when it's not true, it creates--"

"Tension? Distrust?"

"Both, probably." He takes another drink as he nods. "After a while you do start to wonder if there's truth to it, and you're too ignorant or too--too trusting to see it."

"And it eroded the relationship."

"It certainly didn't help." He takes another drink.

"And how about your relationship with Jonathan's brother, Will. Has that been impacted?"

"Of course not. Never. Whatever happens between Nancy, Jonathan, and I, it has nothing to do with the kids. They know that.

"You talked about it."

"Yes. Extensively."

"I know there's often speculation on the relationship you have with them; if you're really close or it's all for the cameras."

"Murray." He leans forward. "We've talked about this before. I met Dustin through Mike, and the whole group followed. I've known them all since they were 8 years old. They're--I mean, not to be cliche, but they're my family." He sips the last bit of martini.

"And where does Eddie Munson fit into that family?"

The question shouldn't be a surprise, but he almost does a spit take, has to fight to keep it together.

"Eddie?"

"Yes." Murray's smile is chilling. "Your close friend Eddie Munson. Musician. Plays Dungeons and Dragons on YouTube. You made out with him in a music video. Ringing any bells?"

"I'm familiar with Eddie," his grin is rigid. "I don't know what that has to do with my marriage ending."

"Well, the rumors weren't all about Nancy, were they?"

"Eddie and I have--we became mutuals online years and years ago. I used one of his songs in a video and the kids are obsessed with his dnd stuff, so. We've become close."

"Friends?"

"Isn't that implied?"

"After that music video, I don't think so."

Steve rolls his eyes, lets the irritation show for the first time. "He asked me to be in his video. There's nothing scandalous about it."

"What's your relationship with Eddie right now?"

"Like I said, friends."

"Do you want it to be more than that?"

"Eddie's really important to me."

"Is that all?"

"Not really sure what you want me to say here, Murray."

"You were married to a woman for years, but now there are questions about your sexuality."

He grits his teeth. "My sexuality isn't anyone's business aside my own. People can say shit on Twitter all they want, that doesn't mean they know me. But--the end of my marriage--it definitely gave me the space for self-discovery, I guess? In a way I hadn't had before."

"And is Eddie a part of that self-discovery?"

"Yeah, as one of my closest friends, he is."

"Do you have feelings for him?"

"That's--that's not--I'm going through a divorce. My focus isn't on starting another relationship right now."

"You, famously, tattooed your initials on the inside of his thigh during an Instagram live. That's pretty intimate."

"We were just having a little fun."

"Huh. That seems like more than 'a little fun' to me. So, how's Eddie doing with the increased attention?"

It takes Steve a second to track the change of subject, mind still stuck on the tattoo, on how the ink had looked on Eddie's pale skin.

"It's hard." Steve eventually answers. "Of course he enjoys bringing his music and dnd to a wider audience, but the focus on his personal life is--it's a lot."

"Well, he should have thought about before letting you tattoo him for your 850,000 followers. Does he want a relationship with you?"

His throat is dry, burning, he wishes he had more martini. He wishes he'd never taken a sip. "You'd have to ask him. I'm just taking it day by day, you know? That's what I need right now."

"We're getting to the end of our time, but you know I have to ask. Your best friend, Robin Buckley, she very famously unfollowed both Nancy and Jonathan on all social media when news broke about your divorce. Can you tell us why she unfollowed them?"

"I have no control over Robin's accounts. I didn't even know she followed Jonathan ever, and she and Nancy have a relationship outside of me, you know? I can't say what happened between them."

"She's been in your videos with Eddie. She like him?"

"Very much. It's kind of annoying actually. They keep ganging up on me."

"Much to everyone's delight, I'm sure. So, what can we expect from the newly single Steve Harrington?"

"There are a couple things in the works, but only time will tell."

---

He walks through his front door an hour later, and Eddie's sitting on the couch, playing a soft melody on an acoustic guitar. He stops when he sees Steve, setting the guitar aside, and standing.

"How'd it go, baby?" He asks. His soft smile is so beautiful, Steve gets a lump in his throat.

"As expected." He crosses the space between them, lets Eddie pull him close.

"He ask about us?" Eddie's breath tickles his ear.

"Of course."

"And you--"

"I want--it should be just for us. We should be able to announce when we're ready. Not when Murray-fucking-Bauman asks."

Eddie kisses him, then, sweet and slow, making him lose his breath.

"Whenever you're ready, I'll be right by your side."

"You sure? All my mess--"

"Is mine too. Afraid you're stuck with me for the long haul, Steve Harrington."

[stevesbipanic]

@steddieangstyaugust Day 27: "I thought we agreed it was over."

Eddie saw Steve's beemer pull up outside the trailer before he heard the knock at the door. The words were already leaving his lips as he opened it, "I thought we agreed it was over."

It had hurt, the break up, but Eddie had been expecting it. He knew Steve would never be his forever no matter how much he wanted him to be. It was all too easy for him to push back the tears and agreed when Steve said things like it was for the best and that they'd never work.

He had tried not to think about all the times Steve had said how much he loved how they were different, that it meant they got to share things with the other person. How Steve whispered love confessions when he thought Eddie was asleep weeks before he was brave enough to voice them in the daylight.

It was over, and that was that, so why was Steve here?

The sentence fizzled out though when he took in Steve's features. A quickly blackening swollen eye, a split lip, knuckles bruised and bleeding. Steve was trying to hold his side while also tightly gripping the backpack on his other shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

Eddie hadn't heard from Steve in months besides the occasional update from the kids or a glance at him from hellfire pick ups. The sound of those words made him realise how much he had missed Steve's voice despite how broken it now sounded.

All the hurt he'd felt melted away, stored for a later time when Steve wasn't swaying so much, when his face wasn't so pale. Eddie gently guided him inside, taking the backpack and placing it on the couch before leading Steve to the bathroom.

He methodically cleaned up his cuts and checked his ribs and tried not to think about the fact that the doctor said Steve shouldn't risk another concussion. He got Steve a change of clothes and sat him upright on the bed.

"Can't sleep yet, sweetheart, got to make sure your heads ok for awhile, alright?"

Steve's eyes became misty again, "Didn't think I'd ever hear you call me that again, Eds. I'm so sorry."

Eddie took Steve's less injured hand in his, gently stroking the back of it, "What happened, Steve?"

The question didn't help the tears that now seemed to flow freely down Steve's cheeks, "I thought if I broke up with you I could keep you safe, keep the both of us safe."

Eddie's grip tightened slightly, "Stevie."

"I was stupid I should've given the box of stuff from you to Robin or someone but I wanted to keep a piece of you close, and he, he found a picture of the two of us, the one Jonathan took at your birthday party."

Eddie knew the picture, it was his favourite, he still kept it tacked to his wall, didn't have the heart to take it down and put it with every other part of Steve that now sat in a box under his bed. Jonathan had caught the exact moment Steve kissed him while he cut his cake, they looked so happy, they were happy.

Eddie could infer the rest, "Your dad did this then?"

Steve nodded, "Kicked me out too, I'm sorry I would've gone to Dustin's but he's at his grandparents and Robin is at college and I just." Eddie pulls Steve closer, "I'm glad you came here, baby, you're safe here." Steve seems to finally relax at those words, like he'd been holding his breath since the day they'd parted.

"I didn't mean anything I said, Eddie," Steve cried.

Eddie gave Steve a sad smile. "I know, let's talk about all that later, just rest now I'll wake you up in a little bit to check your head again," Eddie said pushing Steve softly down onto the bed. They had a lot to discuss, a lot of hearts to mend but for now Eddie just needed Steve to be ok.

"Will you stay?"

"As long as you need me."

[bleedingoptimism]

As Steve walks into the grocery store he pulls his sunglasses off, only to put them back on again immediately. The lights of the store make the back of his eyes sting. Hungover from a bad headache, not that people here would care why. Whatever, is not like everyone already doesn’t think he’s an asshole. He doesn’t need to perform for anyone anymore.

A guy, singing to himself down one of the aisles peaks his attention, he’s tall and has long black hair and Steve belatedly remembers that he’s Jon’s friend from California.

“Argyle?” he asks, more to himself than to him, but Argyle turns and smiles at him as if they are old friends. He approaches and grabs his shoulder, shaking him a little.

“Oh! Hi Stevie!” 

The confidence and attitude he carries himself with make Steve smile for some reason. It’s like he’s very sure of himself but in a nice way, not in a douchey way, like his high school buddies were. Although hearing someone call him “Stevie” reminds him of Tommy and a very different time and he can’t help but shrink inwards a little, “Oh no please, just Steve,” he says with an apologetic smile, pulling his sunglasses off again and placing them on his head. And because he doesn’t want Argyle to think he’s the douchebag, he explains further, “‘Stevie’ brings back bad memories,”

Argyle leans his head to the side with a pout but then smiles and squeezes Steve’s shoulder, “Dude, it’s fine, we can just make new ones, man! Better ones.”

Steve’s first reaction is to scoff. As if it were that easy… but then he thinks, hell, maybe it is.  Maybe it is and it makes him smile. Argyle is way too outgoing for it to be comfortable for other people, it’s kind of ridiculous. For a second, he wonders if Jonathan found it jarring when he first met him. But Steve finds it refreshing. He shakes his head and smiles,

“So what were you looking for? Maybe I can help?” he offers.

Argyle turns in a circle, letting go of Steve’s shoulder and opening his arms wide, like he’s presenting the store to Steve, “See man, I'm mentally preparing myself for the munchies. I kind of wanted to make a pizza but like sweet? You get me?”

“Like a pie?” Steve chuckles.

“That! Sounds delicious, dude! But I don’t know how to make a pie,” Argyle laments, and Steve has no idea what possesses him to say,

“I do. You want help?” 

Argyle stills his whole body and then shakes it before he starts snapping his fingers rapidly, startling Steve.

“Ok! Ok ok ok ok ok! Are you busy right now, man?”

“Just need to buy my groceries…” Steve says unable to keep the bewilderment off his expression.

“I’ll help you with that, we’ll buy things for the pie and then you invite me over, how’s that my dude?” Argyle says, no preambles, “I have a doobie and a lot of questions about all the shit that went down” he adds moving his eyebrows up and down quickly.

“What about Jon?” Steve can’t help but ask.

“Ah man, Jonny is with Nancy right now. Those two love birds had a lot to talk about, so I figured I’d make myself scarce.” Argyle answers, nodding apprehensively at his own statement.

Steve finds himself nodding along before saying, “Yeah, okay. Let’s do it!”

“Hell yeah, Stevie!” Argyle exclaims throwing his arms up and this time, Steve doesn’t cringe at the nickname.

After that, Argyle follows Steve through the store, helping him put things in the cart, making a few comments about differences in products or prices from California, but mostly staying out of the way and humming to himself. Steve asks him what he wants the pie to be (strawberries and chocolate) so he gets the ingredients for that too and then they are off.

When they get to his place, Steve tells him to get comfortable while he puts stuff away but Argyle helps him out before sitting on a tall stool in the kitchen and watching as Steve gets all the ingredients for the pie laid out.

“You know dude, you’re kind of exactly how I imagined you’d be,” Argyle tells him, gifting him another one of his smiles. 

“Really?” Steve asks surprised.

“Jon told me all about you, man,” he answers nodding. 

Steve raises an eyebrow at that, “And you still want to hang out with me?” he asks, half judgy, half defensive.

“Of course! Because you know what I got from it, dog?” Argyle asks and Steve just stares at him, afraid to know the answer.

“That you are a good person, Stevie! So you got off to a rocky start dude, so what? I think that makes you all the more interesting.”

Steve purses his lips in an attempt not to smile and raises an eyebrow.

“You went to hell and beyond for someone you didn’t even like! You’ve paid your dues and a half for whatever shit you did when you were younger and it could’ve made you bitter or closed off, man! But it didn’t. Not even the tiniest little bit. You barely know me and you invited me over and offered to bake pie for me, dude!” 

Steve chuckles and shakes his head, “You got all that from what Jon told you? Also you invited yourself over,” he jokes. 

Argyle laughs and then just shrugs, choosing to ignore Steve’s question about Jon.

He lets it go, and Argyle lights up the joint while he starts making the pie. After they both get a few hits, Argyle starts asking him about everything. ‘Start from the beginning’ he says.

Steve starts off a little stiff but gets looser with the weed and Argyle's presence and ends up telling him practically everything. Argyle asks a few questions every once in a while, sometimes about the process of making the pie. Sometimes some really intense shit like ‘and how did that make you feel?’, ‘did you think you were going to die?’ ‘were you scared?’.

Steve answers everything honestly, and it feels incredibly cathartic. His favorite questions are the ones about the pie though, and he smiles the biggest when Argyle says next time he’ll make one for him.

In turn, Steve asks him how he met Jon and chuckles when Argyle confirms his thoughts and tells him Jon didn’t like Argyle one bit at first.

“He said I was too happy. He didn’t trust it. Dude couldn’t trust anyone that hadn’t gone through some kind of shit in their lives” Argyle laughs, “But I can thaw even the coldest of hearts, man! As we got to know each other, he realized that I did have my own shit going on, but that happiness was a choice for me. Is who I had chosen to be.”

They talk about that too, how it wasn’t an easy choice. How some days it’s harder than others, to keep at it. How all the Upside Down shit affected him too.

By the time the pie is done and the joint is gone, Steve feels incredibly close to Argyle. Like they’ve been friends forever. 

“So that’s pretty much it,” he says with a sigh after finishing a rant about why he doesn’t keep in touch with his high school buddies because Argyle had asked about them.

“Dude, you’ve been through so much,” he says solemnly.

“Yeah, you know that’s…. Life…” Steve says, shrugging. He doesn't know exactly what to say, suddenly feeling very awkward at being seen.

“Nah, Stevie. Me being kicked out of my house as soon as I was old enough to get a job ‘cause my parents couldn’t afford to keep feeding me and my younger siblings…. That’s life.” Argyle says seriously and quickly dismisses Steve's worried face adding, “It’s ok dude, they were great parents, they raised me well and I still go visit every other weekend” And then sighs and looks sternly at Steve again,

“Like I said, that’s life. What you’ve been through? Was hell”

“The kids had it worse- Ell-” Steve starts but Argyle interrupts him.

“That doesn’t erase what you've been through, Steve. It doesn’t make it less of a nightmare, man.” Steve just looks at Argyle as what he’s saying sinks in. 

“And you got through it, dude. You came out the other side even a better person than when it started and like- you saved lives! You saved my best friend's life and like- like- you should be proud of yourself Stevie. I’m proud of you, man” he finishes with a carefree smile. As if he hadn’t just rocked the ground Steve was standing on. And he doesn't know if it’s the weed, or Argyle’s words, or both but Steve closes the distance between them and hugs him.

“Oh, hey! Hugs! I love hugs!” Argyle laughs, and hugs him back, taking it all in stride.

“Sorry,” Steve sniffles embarrassed, “I didn’t know I needed to hear that till you said it,” he croaks.

“Nah, it’s good. I got you” Argyle responds, patting his back lightly.

The hug is wonderful, friendly, warm, and just the right length but when he’s stepping away from Argyle, he hears a wary sound from the kitchen door.

“Uhm…hi” 

It’s Eddie. Pocker-faced and cautious and Steve knows him well enough to know he’s freaking out inside.

“Oh, hi! Eddie! Good to see you, dude!” Argyle says good naturally and completely out of the loop. Steve smiles at him too and rubs his eyes with the back of his hand to dry them off a bit.

Whatever Eddie was thinking goes out the window when he looks closely at Steve and walks towards him, leaning closer to look him in the eye, “You okay?” he asks concerned.

Steve nods and Argyle clears his throat, “I’m going to… set the table for three,” he says, so maybe, not as out of the loop as Steve first thought.

Eddie completely ignores Argyle and grabs Steve’s face, his thumb caressing the underside of his eye, “You really ok?” he asks again and Steve chuckles,

“Yeah,” he answers with a smile.

Eddie hums and then looks back towards where Argyle is opening and closing cabinets in the dining room, looking for plates, “So… Should I be jealous?” he asks and Steve snorts amused, 

“Of course not,” he says.

“You sure? ‘Cause maybe your type wasn’t curls and big eyes, maybe it was long hair and weed all along,” Eddie presses and Steve can tell he’s trying to make a joke out of it but is actually asking for real and Steve gets frankly, really annoyed.

“You know what? Maybe you should be jealous. Argy would never accuse me like that,” Inwardly he cringes at the nickname but it gets the point across. Eddie’s face falls and he looks devastated and terrified for a second before Steve smirks bitchily at him and then Eddie is frowning.

“Asshole” he murmurs, despite still holding Steve’s face as if it were precious and fragile.

Steve steps closer, placing his hands on Eddie’s waist, “You started it” he says as an apology. Kind of.

Eddie huffs and moves his hands to Steve shoulder’s, one thumb pressed to his pulse, “I regret it” 

Steve hums, “Just for the record? A little possessiveness is kind of hot,” he says and pecks the tip of Eddie’s nose, “You questioning my feelings for you? Is not.” and then flicks it.

“Dully noted,” Eddie nods.

Steve looks him in the eye as he leans closer, kisses him fully in the mouth firmly, eyes open the whole time, and then whispers “Good boy,” before he steps away.

He smirks again seeing the full-body effect his little stunt has on Eddie. The way his eyelids fall, his mouth opens, the goosebumps on his arm hair, and the shiver that runs through his spine. He takes a moment to take it all in before he smiles, less predatory and more friendly. Eddie smiles back, and shakes his head amused, like he can't believe Steve is real. He does that a lot.

Steve then takes Eddie’s hand on his own and kisses his knuckles before moving past him and dragging him to the dining room with him, 

“Now c’mon. Let’s go eat pie with my new friend”

e͟n͟d͟

a coffee? a doobie? ☕🥐💕

[jonnywaistcoat]

Hi Jonny, if you don't mind I have a question about the TMA TTRPG! So I noticed that on the player's guide there's this guy, who my friends and I assumed is probably Jon. If it is him, is this a canon design, or more like some of the non-canon stuff that's in the merch?

So, I hope you don't mind if i use this ask to go a bit off on one. I'm not specifically dragging you (I'm actualy glad you asked, as I've thinking about posting on the topic), but all the discussion around the RPG art and how "official" or "canon" it might be is, to my mind, slightly silly.

First up, is it "official" art? I mean, yeah, its art for the officially licenced Magnus Archives RPG. This means Monte Cook Games have commissioned someone to do a beatiful illustration broadly based on some aspect, episode or character from the podcast and it goes in the book. But that's kinda all it means. "Official" is a legal distinction, not an artistic one. The fact that it's in an official product doesn't make it any less one artist's cool interpretation of a character that has only been vaguely described in audio.

Second, is it Jonathan Sims the Archivist? I mean, it's probably based on the idea of him, but it's certainly not set in stone. When we were first discussing art with MCG, we advised that character pictures be more vibes-based and not explicitly tied to specific people (ie. a portrait inspired by Tim wouldn't be captioned "This is Tim" and wouldn't be placed opposite a profile for Tim Stoker, archival assistant.) This was mainly because we wanted the artists to have plenty of freedom to interpret and not feel too tied down by the need to know everything about the podcast. But, to be frank, it was also because we know that there are a few fans out there that are kinda Not Chill about what they've personally decided these characters look like and can get a bit defensive over depictions that differ.

It strikes me as particularly strange to be having this discussion about art that's for a roleplying game book. Something that's explicitly and solely designed to give you the ability to play in your version of the Magnus universe. The idea that this is the thing where we'd for some reason try to immutably establish unchangable appearances for these characters would be pretty funny if some folks weren't taking it so seriously. Similarly ridiculous is the idea we could reasonably have said to MCG "We'd love for you to make a huge beautiful RPG book of our setting... Just make sure you don't depict any of the iconic characters or events from it!"

But... is it "canon"? Now, to my mind, this highlights a real weakness in a lot of fandom thinking around "canon", which is that it generally has no idea what to do with adaptations. All adaptation is interpretation, and relies on taking a work and letting new creatives (and sometimes the same ones) have a different take on it. Are the appearances of the Fellowship of the Ring in the LOTR movies "canon"? How much, if at all, does that matter? Neil Gaiman's book Neverwhere was originaly a 90s BBC series made with a budget of 50 pence; is anyone who makes fanart of Mr Croup that doesn't look like the actor Hywel Bennet breaking canon? What about the novel that describes the character differently? Or the officially licenced Neverwhere comic where he looks like neither of them? Which is his "canon appearance"?

Canon is an inherently messy concept, and while it is useful for a creative team trying to keep continuity and consistency within a creative work, for thinking about anything beyond that it tends to be more hinderance than help.

Anyway, all this is to say that the above picture and all the others in the RPG are exactly as canon as every other picture you've ever seen of the Archivist.

[louloulemons-posts]

Metal Head Cuddles

Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader

Word Count : 1.7k

Warnings : not proofread, swears, shitty parents(reader), vecna stuff did happen, petnames, it’s just a load of fluff.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Meeting-hug :

Being Robins Buckleys cousin was great, moving in with her and her dad was also great. Your family wasn’t fantastic, but Robin and your uncle were.

“Are you sure it was okay for me to tag along? I could always go back and chill with Uncle Rich.”

“Come on Y/N, i know you wanna get out of it, but everyone will love you”.

“Only if you’re sure.”

“I’m 100% sure, now come on let’s go in.” You were at Robins friends, Steve, house, apparently they’d become best friends a couple years back.

Working at an ice cream shop together, you’d had a job of your own when you lived in Chicago, it had allowed you to move to Hawkins and not look back. An old music shop that was getting more and more popular by the day.

Harringtons house was nice, Robin said his parents had a good job, but weren’t around a lot. There was music and laughter as you walked into the house.

“Don’t be nervous, they’ll love you.” Robin linked your arms and you walked into the garden. “Buckley!” A voice called out as you left the house. “Harrington.”

A boy jogged up to you, floppy hair bouncing as he came. “Ah you must be Y/N, Robins said a lot about you. I’m Steve.”

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you.” He gave you a welcoming hug.

“I’ll get you guys a drink, beer?” he asked.

“Y/Ns driving,” Robin spoke.

“Lemonade?”

“Lemonades great thanks.”

“Come on let’s meet the others.” Your cousin waved over at some younger people. “Y/N, this is Dustin, Will, Mike, El, Lucas and Max.”

“It’s nice to meet you all.”

“Ahh so you’re Robins mystery cousin,” the curly haired boy said.

“The one and only,” you shrugged.

“It’s good to meet you anyways,” A red haired girl spoke, her eyes were glazed and you spotted a white cane, along with the hold she had on the boys arm beside her.

“And you guys.”

“Come on let’s meet the lovebirds.” Robin led you away to two teens who looked your age. “This is Nancy and Jonathan, guys this is my cousin Y/N.”

“Hey it’s great to meet you,” the girl spoke, standing to give you a squeeze.

“And you.”

“Where’s Munson?” Robin asked.

“Late as always,” Jonathan joked. On that note loud metal music was heard. “Speak of the devil,” Jonathan chuckled.

A few moments later a man with unruly hair came wandering in, his footsteps heavy and loud. He wore a large grin, dancing across his mouth as he took the younger curly haired boy hugged him.

The hug of a brother, Steve walked past, handing him a beer like it was a breath. He made his way over to us, handing me a cup full of lemonade and Robin her own bottle of booze.

“You been introduced to everyone?” Steve asked. “Pretty much, just not,” I motioned over to the man who was not letting out a cackle.

“Oh, hang on,” Steve paused for a second, because calling out the man’s name, “Eddie, come here man.” You heard him mutter something like, ‘Oh no already in trouble,’ to the younger kids, making them laugh.

He jogged over to us, taking a swig of his drink. “Hey guys,” he smiled, taking in everyone’s face when he finally landed on mine. His chocolate eyes met my gaze.

“Eddie this is Y/N, Robins cousin from Chicago,” Steve explained.

“Oh cool, nice to meet you,” he said, pulling you into a half hug.

You hand landed on his lower back in greeting as his kept his, respectfully on the middle of yours. “And you, Robins told me all about you guys,” I said to the group.

“Oh no, what’s she said?” Steve groaned.

“Nothing that isn’t true Dingus.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Random-Encounter Hug :

Pushing the cart through the aisle, I grabbed a couple veggies here and there, planning on making, yet another, thank you meal for Robin and my uncle.

After placing the tomato’s and peppers in the cart I looked back up, spotting a newly familiar figure. Grabbing the last few things I needed from this section I sped up, “Hey Eddie.”

The boy whirled round to look at me, “Y/N, hey, how are you?” He asked, instantly pulling me into a large hug, giving me a gentle squeeze.

“I’m good, just getting bits and pieces.”

“Same here, I’m want to make my uncle a nice meal for his birthday, but don’t tell anyone,” he leant down so he was closer to your ear, “I can’t really cook.”

Letting out a laugh, I smiled at the boy, “If you want I can help you?”

“You cook?”

“I do indeed, give me your number and we can figure out a recipe, go through everything step by step.”

“Really?”

“Sure, what does he like to eat?”

“Anything we eat out of cans a lot.”

“Does he like steak?”

“Sure.”

I motioned for him to follow me, pushing the cart and coming to a halt by the steaks and other various meat. Getting a small, cheap, but still a beautiful cut, I handed it to Eddie.

“Does he like mash potatoes?”

“Yeah.” I quickly grabbed some of them, and then some green beans. Eddie pulled a face at that, “Does he not like them?

“Oh he loves them, I do not,” his face scrunched.

“They’re not that bad I promise, cook them

in butter and seasoning.” The boy hummed, instantly trusting your words.

He stayed to help you with your own shopping, helping you take the bags to your car, holding his own. “Thank you for the help,” he said, “It was nice to see you again.”

“And you. Remember call me when you’re cooking, I’ll talk you through it all.” The boy gave you a smile, and pulled you into a sweet hug. Arms enclosing around your body, holding you close.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Exhaustion Hug :

You’d gone out for the day with Robin, Nancy, Steve, Jonathan and Eddie. Not sleeping well the night before after a screaming phone call from your mother, you were so tired.

“You okay?” Robin whispered.

“Oh yeah, just a bit sleepy. I’ll be fine.” You’d be on a long walk, wondering around shops, just having fun doing what people would consider mundane.

Eddie walked in front chatting away with Steve, Robin jumped into conversation with them, whilst Jonathan and Nancy led the group hand in hand.

Staying a few steps behind, you rubbed your eyes again. Not realising the group had stopped you bumped into Eddies back. “Shit sorry Eds.”

Turning to look at you, he smiled softly at your sleepy state. “It’s okay, you good?”

“Yeah just tired.” He nodded, humming, “Well we can’t have that can we.”

He turned back around and got low, “Hop on,” he said simply.

“What?”

“Get on my back.”

“Eddie no-“

“Y/N,” he said turning his face to you, “Please.” Well you couldn’t say no to that.

Wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, Eddie stood, holding underneath your thighs. “Comfy?”

“Mhm.” My face rested on his shoulder.

“Come on then, let go,” he walked with ease, as if he wasn’t carrying an extra weight. I felt so comfortable there, with him holding me, that my face nuzzled into his neck, breathing him in.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Anything for you.”

…

“Oh he’s so into her,” Steve said, watching the boy carry the sleepy girl. “Him into her? You don’t understand how much she talks about him. I swear Eddie coming today is the only reason she’s here,” Robin laughed.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Recharging Cuddles :

You don’t really know how it happened, but it was natural as anything. You and Eddie started dating, much to his Uncle Wayne’s joy.

Stood in the small kitchen in their new trailer, you were cooking a breakfast for Eddie and yourself, Wayne had already headed out for the day.

Feeling arms come around your waist and a face nuzzle into your neck, his curls tickled in their sleepy state. “Where did you go?” He said, voice laced with sleep.

“Making us breakfast Eds.”

“You weren’t there when I woke up.”

“Sorry baby, I just wanted to make you something.”

“You’re too sweet,” he spoke, placing a sweet kiss under your ear. “It’s almost ready, why don’t you sit at the table?”

He whined, “Wanna stay with you.”

“Okay sleepy boy,” With a free hand you rubbed his own that connected around your waist.

“Thank you.”

“Never have to thank me baby.” The boy remained attached to you the rest of the time you cooked, sliding you onto his lap as you ate.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Reunion hugs :

It had been two whole weeks since you’d seen Eddie, yourself, Robin and your uncle had been on vacation. Not even thinking about unpacking you jumped in your car and drove over to Eddies.

The trailer park was hit with sun, bright days becoming more common, the people of Hawkins soaking in the rays.

That was including your favourite boy, of course wearing jeans, black and ripped and a tank top. Some of his scars were on display but the large ones that covered his torso were hidden by the material.

Parking up, you climbed out of the car with ease. “Hey you,” you called as you walked over to him. “Oh my god”, he laughed, pushing off the stairs of the trailer and running to you.

Without a second thought your feet were off the ground, arms around his neck, he lifted you up and held you close. “I missed you so fucking much.” Hands going to his hair, you giggled, “I missed you too baby.”

“Never go away again,” he mumbled into your neck.

“Where’s my hug miss?” you heard another voice speak. “Wayne,” I smiled Eddie let me hop down from his hold and walk over to the older man. He took he in his arms and gave me a squeeze.

“Thank goodness you’re back, I couldn’t deal with anymore moping from this boy,” he motioned to Eddie. “Wayne,” he whined, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling your back to his chest.

“But seriously never leave me again.”

“Don’t plan on it.” He kissed the top of your head, holding you tighter.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

A/N : well hello it’s been a while, life’s been kinda crazy lately, so writings been the last thing on my mind. Hopefully I’ll be back to it soon, but I’m not gonna push myself, hope you guys understand.

All the love 🤍

- Lou

[livwritesstuff]

Tommy POV, wc: 2890, full version on ao3

Tommy Hagan is not jealous of Eddie Munson.

He’s not.

There’s nothing to be jealous of, in his opinion, and Tommy probably wouldn’t be thinking about him at all if Eddie wasn’t the most publicly well known member of his graduating class – well, he hadn’t actually been in his graduating class, Tommy supposes.

They had been seniors at the same time, though.

If Tommy happened to be jealous of anything – and that’s a big if – it would probably have something to do with the famous thing. Everyone has a small part of them that wants to be famous at least in some capacity, he’s pretty sure, even if Eddie isn’t really, truly famous – not like the red carpet celebrities. He’s a writer. Even the most well known writers never get all that much attention, but Munson has his own Wikipedia page, and that’s more than anybody else from Hawkins, Indiana can say. Hawkins itself barely even has a Wikipedia page, and it’s only because of all the atrocities that happened in town in the mid-eighties.

Tommy hadn’t been around for the end of it all – the earthquake-slash-serial killer situation that never made any sense to him. He remembers his mom calling him at his college dorm when the deaths first started. He remembers her asking, “You went to school with that Munson boy, right? Do you think he could do something like this?”

And Tommy had been twenty and a total moron, so he’d said some dumb shit like, “Yeah, he’s into freaky stuff like that. Somebody should’ve put him on a list ages ago,” even though four years of experience told him that Eddie was all bark, no bite. Tommy hadn’t been surprised at all by the statements that later came out clearing Eddie's name, and by then his parents had already high-tailed it out of Hawkins so it all sort of became irrelevant to him.

Tommy never even returned to Hawkins one single time after he left for college (barring his high school reunion, obviously), and twenty years after graduation, he doesn’t really think about those years all that much.

He doesn’t love the person he’d been in high school. He was whiny and immature and had his priorities all messed up. Most of the memories he has of his teenage years, he looks back at and cringes, feels a whole lot of shame and embarrassment, but also some pride at how much he’s grown over the last twenty years. He also knows he’d been kind of a dick in high school, but that he’s less ashamed of. It’s normal, he knows, for kids to be mean, that it’s a standard response to being untreated kindly in other ways. Like, his dad had been an asshole to him as a kid, always on him about his grades and his smart mouth and how he’d no longer been a standout on any of his sports teams after starting high school, and Tommy had coped with that by poking kids beneath him at school. 

It’s just the pecking order of high school. It’s normal.

Even now, when Tommy’s son had dealt with some pricks in the year above him shoving him around, he had come home from school and tormented his little sister for a while – it’s normal, no matter how much his wife had tried to convince him it was something that needed addressing. It’s just kids being kids. They grow out of it eventually, just like Tommy had.

Occasionally he wonders where the kids he’d spent all those years with in the Hawkins public school system had ended up, but these days the internet makes that pretty damn easy to figure out.

He’s learned Tina got married and had kids real young. She still lives in Indiana. Carol, who he’d split up with before heading off to college, lives in Alabama now and she’s got kids and a husband too. Jonathan Byers is a photographer in California – Tommy isn’t into all that art-y crap, so he has no clue if he’s any good, but he definitely recognizes some of the organizations he’s worked for and if that’s any indication, Tommy would wager he’s not too shabby. No wife, though, he noted, so he’d either been right about Byer’s being a queer, or women just found him repulsive (admittedly, Tommy leans more towards the former – he’s a photographer). Tammy Thompson still lives in Tennessee, though it doesn’t seem like she does music anymore (husband, kids, blah blah blah). 

If he’s honest, the only person Tommy is actually interested in tracking down is Steve Harrington, and he’s the one person Tommy can’t find a single trace of online. No MySpace, no Facebook, no weird blog thing, nothing.

Vaguely, he wonders if Steve might be dead. A truly massive proportion of Hawkins had died over just a few short years in the mid-eighties. Maybe Harrington was one of them.

Tommy doubts it. 

He would have known. 

Steve’s parents would have made sure everyone knew if their son had died. Funnily enough, Steve’s mom is actually on Facebook, and pretty actively too, but there’s no sign of Steve anywhere on her page. 

He hadn’t even shown up for their high school reunion in the winter of ‘04, which is odd because Tommy had been certain he would.

He doesn’t obsess over it – he really doesn’t. It’s just a thought that pops into his mind every now and then – where the hell is Steve Harrington?

In the late spring of 2007, he gets his answer.

“Tom,” his wife says, “That guy from your high school is on the cover of this magazine.”

He knows without asking for clarity that it’s Munson – no other person makes sense – and when he eventually gets his hands on the magazine, he finds that he’s correct.

Eddie Munson is on the cover of a magazine because, apparently, he published another book. 

Truthfully, Tommy already knew that. 

It’s his fourth book (which, for the record, Tommy hadn’t known until he knew it because it’s not like he’s keeping tabs on this guy or whatever), and it’s been getting a whole bunch of mainstream attention after a controversial landing on the top of all those book charts Tommy doesn’t follow despite featuring a gay love store amidst all his normal fantasy crap. It sparked a whole debate about banning books and everything (dumb, Tommy knows, because if he learned anything in business school it’s that if you really don’t want something to exist, the best thing you can do is not funnel money and attention into it). 

Tommy does, in fact, watch the news so he’d already caught wind of all this – it’s part of the reason he can’t shake the guy – and it’s why Eddie Munson is on the cover of this magazine (because, seriously, nobody gives a shit about writers until it hits the news).

He allows himself a moment to look at the cover, to look at Eddie, who apparently goes by Ed now. Tommy is loath to admit it, but he looks good. His hair is normal and he’s grown into his frame, not all long and lanky and gangly limbs like Tommy remembers from school. He looks well-fed, confident, happy.

He looks good.

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.

It takes Tommy a long time to get through it, honestly. Eddie comes out in the article, which might be a big deal, might not (and he doesn't care to be enlightened, thanks). He keeps getting distracted by the pictures scattered throughout it.

The pictures of Steve, mostly.

Because, well, if Eddie Munson looks good, Steve…

Steve looks alive.

Tommy didn’t realize it until this exact moment, but Steve had existed in his head for the last two decades as the eighteen-year-old he’d been the last time they were in the same room together. It hadn’t exactly occurred to him that Steve’s been aging this whole time too, just like Tommy has.

It’s undeniable that Steve is older. 

His hair is starting to go gray at his temples (it’s the only thing that’s changed about his hair since he’s still styling it the same as he did in high school – because why mess with a good thing, Tommy supposes) and he’s got just the hint of crow's feet around his eyes when he smiles. He’s smiling in all the photos – every damn one – and it has Tommy struck by how unbelievably happy Steve seems. It’s an effect that somehow both takes years off the age Tommy knows he is and shines a light on just how good those years must have been for him. 

There’s no solo shots of him like there are for Munson – though according to the article, it's actually Harrington now – and only half the photos are in color. The rest of them – the more candid ones – are smaller and left in black-and-white. 

The one that caught Tommy’s eye first – because it was meant to, he’s pretty sure; it takes up half the page – is right in that sweet spot between staged and candid where Steve and Eddie both know that they’re being photographed even though neither of them are actually posing. Eddie is grinning at Steve in a wicked way that still feels familiar to Tommy even two decades since he’d last seen it on him (probably swaggering around the cafeteria like a total jackass – not that Tommy would know anything about that). Steve is grinning right back at him with a smile Tommy doesn’t think he’s ever seen before.

Or maybe he has, but not on this version of his face, not since Steve was as young as his oldest daughter.

Just as the author of the article said, the photos don’t show the faces of Steve’s children, either leaving them artfully out-of-focus or choosing shots where they’re turned away from the camera, but they’re still present, and it makes the whole spread almost feel like a photo album in a way, like it should be private but instead was published for the whole world to see.

Steve has three of them – kids, Tommy means. He didn’t know that Steve was a family kind of guy. It makes sense though, when he thinks about it. Steve’s parents were kind of a nightmare — present in the worst ways, and absent in the worst ways too (though it hadn’t seemed that way when Tommy was a teenager looking for a failsafe party house). He'd always felt kind of bad for the guy. Like, Tommy's dad had been a total piece of work, but they'd at least been around, and he'd stuck around long enough for them to sort out their issues at least most of the way, and these days he's a pretty kickass grandpa to Tommy's children.

Tommy wonders about Steve's parents now, wonders if they maybe came around like his own parents had, but then he remembers Mrs. Harrington's Facebook page and how there's not a damn trace of her son on there, never mind three grandchildren.

Tommy isn't sure he wants to touch that.

Steve is probably a really good dad, Tommy decides. He’d been kind of that way when they were friends — Steve used to say he wasn’t all that bright, but he always had a freaky sixth sense for reading people, for caring about them in exactly the way they needed.

There's one photo where Steve is managing to holding his youngest daughter — a tiny little baby still — and her bottle in one arm (that's a level-three dad hold, Tommy knows). The bottle is angled in a way that obscures her face, and Steve's other hand is being tugged on by another daughter, this one with a mop of curly brown hair remarkably similar to Eddie's when it was still long.

That's another thing Tommy won't let himself think about, (because he knows if did he'd start wondering if any of those kids were half-Steve).

Anyways, Tommy doesn't need glance to see that Steve wears fatherhood like a favorite sweater.

There’s something about this, about seeing these pictures, about the way Tommy is getting an answer to that question he’s had for years about where his childhood best friend has been all these years, that is making him feel like his ribcage is being split open, bones splintering and shattering as everything vulnerable inside his chest in suddenly out for display.

He probably should feel uncomfortable, right? Like, a guy he’d been seriously close to growing up — sleepovers and gym locker rooms and all that shit — had turned out to be gay. If his own son came home from school saying that his best friend came out or whatever as gay…well, again, it’s 2007, and Tommy doesn’t think his wife would allow him to denounce the friendship entirely, but there certainly wouldn’t be any sleepovers anymore. He thinks that’s pretty reasonable.  

What was the likelihood that Steve had been, like, into Tommy?

And that should be an uncomfortable notion too, and in a sense, it kind of is, but not necessarily in the way he would expect. 

He just doesn’t understand why all this feels so much like a loss because he knows that he hasn’t really lost anything – not since he got his hands on the magazine, anyways. Steve Harrington hasn’t played any sort of role in Tommy’s life since their final falling out in 1984, and as far as he’s aware, having a falling out with a close friend is pretty much a guaranteed part of growing up. His wife even experienced something similar when her own grade school best friend suddenly stopped answering calls and stopped reaching out after they’d started college – and his wife is basically the nicest person Tommy has ever known, so…it happens to even the best.

It’s just…Steve had always continued to exist in Tommy’s life in a way, even if he wasn't physically present, and maybe Tommy had figured it could be the same for Steve too, that maybe he sometimes wonders where Tommy is, wonders what he’s up to.

This article and these photos makes it pretty fucking clear that Tommy doesn’t even exist in the same galaxy as the life Steve is living.

And that’s not to mention the Eddie fucking Munson of it all.

Tommy had been kind of ignoring the Eddie of it all until he couldn’t ignore it anymore, because he doesn't care about Eddie Munson.

He'd never cared, but he'd spent years seeing the guy's face and his name everywhere, and now it feels like a sick joke, like he's the piece of Steve left in Tommy's life.

If the article is accurate (and he has no reason to believe it isn’t), Steve and Eddie have been together for longer than Tommy has even known his wife. Steve has been with Eddie for longer than Steve was ever friends with Tommy – not by a lot, but still more. That’s a long fucking time, and it’s clear as day on both of their faces that they’re just as in love with each other fourteen years in as they were on day one.

It’s not just Steve, and it’s not just Eddie, and it’s not one more than the other. It’s both of them.

There’s one photo in particular – a small black-and-white one that keeps pulling Tommy’s attention.

It’s another candid shot, taken from a bit of a distance. In it, Steve has Eddie boxed in against the counter in what has to be their kitchen. Eddie is leaning back against the edge of the granite countertop and looking at Steve with something sappy and fond on his face, and Steve’s hands are this close to grabbing Eddie’s waist as he looks at him the exact same way.

It’s shit out of a fairy tale or something, and sure, maybe someone could argue that they’re laying it on thick just for the sake of the magazine or whatever, but Tommy knows Steve Harrington and that look on his face is more real than Tommy had ever seen in all the years he'd known him.

So maybe Tommy has a reason or two (or three or four) to be jealous of Eddie Munson.

[acowardinmordor]

You Left Me, You Miss Me - Five

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five

Continuing immediately from part Four. And I hear your screaming, and enjoy it, but I am pretty sure that I'm not going the direction you expect me to.

------

“Huh?”

“I asked them to,” Eddie repeated, quieter.

It didn’t make more sense the second time.  His kids were stubborn. They were obnoxious, and someone asking them to do, or not do something had never once changed anything. Steve spent the last few years asking them not to leave crumbs in his car, and to call before coming over, and to please, just once, let him choose the movie on a movie night. Plus the part where everyone asked them not to put themselves in danger when monsters crawled out of the ground. 

Threats didn’t work on them, law enforcement didn’t work on them, like hell was something as delicate as asking going to do a damn thing. 

“Yeah, no, I heard you, but I don’t get it. So you, what? You sat them down and asked them to ice me out? And they said ‘sure why not!’ Man, even if you asked them to, they’re still the ones that did it. Shit, you’ve never liked me. There’s no way that you didn’t tell the boys to stop hanging out with me last year during your game meetings before everything happened.” Eddie shrank further into the seat, so Steve added, “So, it’s not your fault, but I guess I forgive you if that makes you feel better.”

Eddie gnawed on the inside of his cheek, wincing at what felt like every other word.

“Shit, Steve, it’s -- Shit,” he cursed as he sloshed some of his coffee over the brim. His eyes were clenched shut, and he was curled in on himself. “I didn’t sit them down and tell them to stop talking to you. That -- no way that would work. You’re right. They wouldn’t just -- Like I said, they’re crazy about you. It’s more, it’s all of the, I told them about how ever since -- shit. Look, it doesn’t matter why or how I did it, just trust me, I’m the reason. It’s my fault, and I fucked up, and I didn’t mean it to make -- but you left, and it’s killing them, and so you gotta forgive them, at least talk to them, cause its not their fault.”

“Yeah,” Steve stalled, “still don’t get why you think this is on you, dude.”

“At the beginning it -- shit, no. Doesn’t matter. Jesus Christ, Munson, don’t make this about that. Okay. I asked them not to invite you if I was around, cause I wasn’t -- I didn’t want to see you, and then I made sure they were always around me because -- because I wanted them to. And then I, you know, kept poking at them about it when they’d bring it up, reminding them that you don’t like D&D and that you wouldn’t want to watch the new Star Trek movie, and when they said anything I just kept telling them that -- Shit, just believe me. I’m the one that made them do this, it’s my fault, it’s not them.”

Okay, so Eddie was pushier since Spring Break than he was before it. Or the kids listened to him more. Or they were trying to take care of him. So Eddie was the prompt for them cutting him out of everything. Fine.

Still didn’t make it the guy’s fault. 

Steve got close with Robin after she found out about the Upside Down. But he didn’t get close to Jonathan. Dustin became, for a while at least, his brother. Steve would die for Mike, but they didn’t hang out if it wasn’t a group thing. All of them were tied together, and any one of them could make a call, and everyone would come to help, but that didn’t make them all automatically into friends. 

God, Eddie looked like he was on the edge of a breakdown in a booth in a diner. 

“Look, it’s,” Steve spun his coffee cup, “you’re real close with the guys in your club right? The ones in your band?”

Eddie went tense, then nodded awkwardly.

“You’re close because of that stuff, though. Not just cause you had some classes together or were next to each other on a bus. You got pushed together for some random reason, but  that happened with a lot of people. But you had shared interests, right? You like that game, and you got bullied at school and you like the same loud screaming music. So you got to know each other, and you had a bunch in common, and so you guys are friends. You’re close, so even though you graduated, and you don’t have class and lunch together anymore, you’re still friends.

“Christ, Steve, no,” he protested. 

Steve ignored that and kept going.

“I never had that with the kids, or any of them. Shit. Never had that with Nance either, but I didn’t know it back then.” His inner Robin glared, and he stayed on topic. “It wasn’t as simple as sharing some classes, there were monsters and all that, but that’s what kept me and them around each other. No more monsters now, so.”

His stomach twisted, like it always did if he got too close to thinking about this. 

He only barely managed to talk about this with Robin, because when it was Robin he was honest, and when he was honest, really honest, he ended the night quiet and hurting and picking apart the past year trying to find what he could have done differently. Shoving all of that back into the dark of his mind, he conjured up a casual shrug and a smile. 

“I get that they’re probably freaking out right now, but they’ll get over it. Give it another month or two and it’ll be fine. Start one of your campaign -- your big story things and distract them if they’re bugging you about it.” 

He wiped up the coffee Eddie spilled on instinct, and shoved the napkin in his now empty cup. 

Time to get home and get a nap before he went to the stockroom that night. He wouldn’t see Robin until he picked her up for work, but they were scheduled alone, so he could talk all of this through then. Trying to pretend this day didn’t happen would last all of eight seconds of contact with his best friend. Maybe she could make sense of how he was feeling. 

“Wait, stop, you can’t leave yet.”

“Munson, I’ve been here since before dawn, I wanna leave.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but you have to talk to them. They miss you.”

“They didn’t six weeks ago, did they? Or for the holidays? Or for the months before that, huh?” Steve finally snapped, then took a breath. “Sorry. Answer’s still no.”

He bussed their cups and the creamer to the pass through and grabbed his coat and gloves. Steam rose off Hopper’s truck where he had the engine running to keep warm. They exchanged a single nod before Steve turned towards the road to walk home. 

“Steve!” 

It wasn’t a shock to hear, but Steve had hoped that Eddie wouldn’t follow. 

“Okay, I get that you’re not going to just forgive them, and that you don’t want to talk to them, but--”

“No. I don’t. And I know you think this is your fault, and I’m telling you it’s not, and I told you, I’m not mad at you about this. We weren’t friends. I’m not mad at you for not wanting me around or whatever. That’s fine. And? They’ll get over it, and everyone can just move on with their lives with the people they actually like.”

Steve’s stupid voice betrayed him, cracking, and he cut off the rest of what he might have said. Anger was the fastest way to shut down weakness, and it was easy for him to sink into it.  

Eddie had his hands in his hair, clutching at it near his temples, looking borderline hysterical. 

“Would you at least listen if they talked?”

“They don’t have my phone number, and if you tell them where I live, I’ll send Mrs Buckley after you. And Hopper.”

“You could call them.”

“No.”

It wasn’t about who placed the call. If he heard them, if they said a fraction of what he wanted to hear, he’d cave, immediately and entirely, and then both the real life Robin, and the mini Robin in his brain would give him hell. 

“Steve come on, something, anything. Letters? If they write letters?”

“I’m not giving them my address, and Hopper already asked about mailing stuff through him instead. No.”

It was cold and he was tired. Just about the only person in the party that he didn’t care had abandoned him was trying to pull Steve back into the vat of slow simmering pain he was still climbing out of. 

“Look, Eddie --”

“I’ll drive them. The letters. You don’t even have to answer, or read them. Let me tell them that I can bring you letters, and I’ll drive them up here. If you do want to answer I’ll wait and then drive whatever it is back. As many times as you want.”

“Come on, man.”

“I won’t even -- I don’t have to know where you live, or your number, anything. I can come here. To the diner. Won’t even come inside, just drop them off and wait. You won’t have to talk to me, or see me. Just, come on. Even if you never forgive them, or answer them, let them have this. Even if you don’t read what they say, let them think they got to apologize.”

The wind shifted, and Steve tucked his chin into his coat to wait it out. 

Eddie was shivering two steps away, gloveless hands shoved under his arms, hair tangling into more of a mess than usual. 

“That’s a stupid idea, Munson,” he said when the gust stopped, “If they know that you know where I am, and you don’t tell them, they’re going to hate you. They’d drive you insane trying to get you to tell them, and they’d be horrible the whole time. They already ditched me for you, so, don’t make them hate you too.”

“They already hate me.” The response was immediate and defeated.

“Dude, they don’t.”

“They do. They figured it out a few weeks ago. That I was the reason. Just cause you don’t get it doesn’t mean they don’t. This is my fault. They already hate me. They won’t even talk to me long enough to yell. They act like I don’t exist.”

“Christ, Munson, is that why you’re up here, freezing your ass off in a parking lot and bitching at me? So you can get them to like you by getting me to talk to them?”

Eddie flinched. Didn’t say anything for a minute as he shivered with wide eyes. Then, without any of the dramatics the guy was known for, “Please, Steve. Even if you throw them out right after. Let them write to you, and let me tell them the truth when I say you got them. I think they can survive if they don’t hear back. They’ll blame me, but that’s fine, they should. The silence is what’s killing them. They need to say how -- they need to believe that you heard how sorry they are.”

It was so fucking cold it was making Steve’s eyes water. That was the only reason for it. The cold front that came in overnight.

“I’m not gonna promise to read them,” he caved.

The tension collapsed out of Eddie, and he slumped forward, hiding his face in his hands. 

“I work here in the mornings Monday through Wednesday every week. You should drop them off then. M’not saying I’ll read them, or write anything back, but if they want to write, fine.” 

Eddie nodded over and over, hiding behind his hands, and whisper-mumbling something that Steve couldn’t catch. He was shaking again. The kind of full body wracking that meant the cold was sinking deep.

“Christ, go get in Hop’s truck before your fingers freeze off or something.” 

Without waiting for a response, or checking that he listened, Steve turned and kept walking. Another gust of wind tore through him, loud enough that he wouldn’t have heard another call of his name. It was a good thing that John messed up the big combo that morning, and Steve had eaten it during the lull after breakfast. He wasn’t going to manage anything else until tomorrow at the earliest. 

That was assuming Robin didn’t kill him on the spot for his stupid, stupid decision. 

Ten steps down the road, and he already regretted it. Even if he didn’t read anything, even if they never sent anything, the choice would sit like a rock in his gut; a new ache, a new bruise, and Steve was dumb enough that he’d keep poking at it. 

---

I'm sad that this is two chapters without Robin. That's some kind of a crime. Can guarantee that Robin has Strong Opinions about this when she talks to Steve that night.

I don't do tag lists or regular updates, and I have no shame about that.

>>>>>Part Six

[ahsokaismyqueen]

Disappointed Revelations

Pairing - Steve Harrington x HendersonSister!Reader

Summary - After working on a school project together, you had actually started to believe that there was more to Steve Harrington than meets the eye. All of that changes after an interaction with Jonathan Byers.

Word Count - 1.7k

Warnings - Language, season 1 Steve, they come a long way from this friends.

Steve Harrington x Henderson!Sister Reader Masterlist

You could tell that something was wrong. Well, a lot of things were wrong at the moment, but this was even more so. Jonathan and you were not close. Acquaintances, not much more than that, but you knew how close he was with his brother. He had to be taking this hard. The frown on your lips deepened as you watched him get approached by Steve Harrington and his little lackeys. 

“Hey! Earth to Henderson!” You were snapped back to reality by Eddie who was waving his hand in your face. “You know, if I wasn’t so secure in our undying friendship, I might be offended by you ignoring me.” 

Shoving his hand away, you gave him a grin. “I apologize my dear dungeon master. My attention was captivated by the douchebag crew over there.” You said, gesturing towards them. 

Eddie turned to where you were looking, his eyes widening with interest as he leaned against the car next to you. “Well, that is intriguing isn’t it? What do you think it’s about?” 

There was no telling. All you could think about though was that the last thing you would want to deal with if Dustin was missing was them. Sure, Steve had been . . . Nice to you earlier when it had been just the two of you working on the project together, but he always got worse whenever he was around Tommy. “I don’t know.” You admitted, and watched as Jonathan tried to brush past them but Tommy grabbed his bag off his shoulder, “but I don’t like it. He’s got enough to deal with right now.” 

He picked up something in your tone, and you felt his gaze on the side of your face. “His brother was friends with yours wasn’t he?” 

“Is,” you corrected, without looking at him. 

Eddie cleared his throat awkwardly. “Right.” 

Letting out a sigh, you watched as they continued to antagonize Jonathan. “I taught him how to play DND, you know? With the rest of Dustin’s friends. Pretty good little player.” You bumped your shoulder into Eddie’s. “Might give you a run for your money some day.” 

He let out a scoff at your words. “You know, I’m taking back the undying friendship -”

“What the hell!” You leapt off the back of the car as you watched Steve drop Jonathan’s camera on the ground. 

“Henderson, what are you -”

You hadn’t even realized you had started moving. Eddie was calling out to you, followed by a couple murmurs of shit, shit, shit,  but you didn’t care. All you felt was anger. Jonathan didn't deserve that. You knew what his home life was like. He had probably had to work hard to save up enough for that camera, and it must have been like rubbing salt in the wound of Will’s disappearance to have another thing taken away from him, even as small as that. It reminded you of - 

“You’re such a fucking dick, Harrington!” The words left your mouth before you even thought about them, shoving his back and causing him to stumble forward. 

Steve turned around, looking even more startled when he realized it was you. “Henderson, what the hell was that for?!” 

But you didn’t stop, you kept coming for him with an anger that was buried deep inside of you, reaching out to shove him again. “His brother is fucking missing, and you can’t have sympathy for two minutes -”

Steve grabbed a hold of your arms, keeping them at your sides even as you tried to shove him off. “He was taking pictures of -”

“I don’t give a shit what he was taking pictures of.” You hissed in his face. “Not everyone can get their daddy to buy them new stuff when it breaks. Sometimes you can’t ever get things back.” Against your will, you felt tears of anger forming in your eyes. You could also feel Steve’s chest heaving against yours, the tension in the air thick, and for a moment, you thought you saw an ounce of regret in his eyes. 

“God, the freak has finally lost her mind.” Carol Perkins said with a laugh. 

“Stay out of this.” Steve snapped at her.

“Shut the hell up you pathetic bitch.” 

Steve and you spoke at the same time, and there was a moment of silence at your words. You heard footsteps step closer to the two of you, but you didn’t take your eyes off Steve, your face still flooded with simmering anger. 

“What did you call me?” You heard Carol say. 

You felt Steve’s hands tighten for the briefest moment on your wrists, almost like a warning, but you still didn’t care enough to even glance her way. “A. Pathetic. Bitch. All together it’s only five syllables. Didn’t realize that was above your comprehension level.” You said,  “But I’m not surprised.” 

“How dare you -”

“I told you to stay the hell out of it!” Steve yelled at her, breaking your gaze for a moment to glare at her, and you used his distraction to yank your arms out of his grip. 

You took a step back from him, not even realizing until that moment how close the two of you had been. “I can’t believe I thought for one second you might not be such a bad person.” You admitted. “But you really are a dick.” 

Steve looked hurt. It shocked you, but he looked upset by your words. Why? You didn’t know. It wasn’t like he gave a single shit what your opinion of him was anyway. 

“Henderson!” You finally tore your gaze away from Steve at the sound of Eddie’s voice. “Let’s get out of here.” You didn’t know when it had happened, but Eddie had joined the circle, glancing between Steve and you with an expression that was a cross between concern and confusion. 

Tommy stepped forward then, clapping Steve on the shoulder and looking at you with a smirk. “You know, she’s not wrong, Harrington. You are a dick.” 

“She’s got an eye for that. You know with all her experience with them.” Carol said, and you turned away from her, taking a few steps towards Eddie as he slung an arm around your shoulder. “Though normally it’s just freak dick.” 

Your hands tightened into fists for a brief moment, but you didn’t respond, knowing it wouldn’t be worth it. 

“Bet she wouldn’t know what to do with a real one.” You heard Tommy said, and a round of laughter at what that implied made you snap once more. 

“I hope you’re not implying that you have a real one! I’d need a damn telescope to find yours -!” You yelled, turning around to see Steve hold Tommy back. 

“Bitch!” 

“Asshole!” You yelled back. 

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie said, sliding his arm down to grab a hold of your waist and literally tug you away from them. “What the hell has gotten into you?!” He pulled you to a stop beside Jonathan while Nancy went to answer Steve’s call for her. 

You ignored his question, frankly because you weren’t sure how to answer it, and bent down to look at the damaged camera. “Can it be fixed?” You asked him. 

He shook his head, carefully picking up the bigger pieces. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

You knew you didn’t, but something inside of you hadn’t let you stop. You gave Jonathan a sad smile. “If there’s anything Dustin and I can do to help find Will . . . We want to help.” You thought about how many times he must have heard that, because it was what you were expected to say, right? “I’m serious.” You added, wanting him to know you were. “He’s a good kid.” You told him, handing him one of the bigger pieces. 

Jonathan looked at you for a second, then nodded. “Thanks for not saying ‘was’.” He grabbed what he could of his things, and with another nod to the two of you, headed to his car. 

“Are you going to tell me what the hell all that was about?” Eddie said once it was only the two of you again. 

You ran a frustrated hand through your hair. “I don’t know. He just . . . he pissed me off.” 

“He’s done shit like that before. They all have. You didn't shove him then.” Eddie said. 

Eddie was right. You’d witnessed them all being terrible for years now, and it had never bothered you that much. You wanted to say that you didn’t know why, but the truth was, you did. After working on that project together, you actually had started to believe that maybe Steve wasn’t all bad. That maybe there was something more to him than a mindless, womanizing jock. 

You hated that he proved you wrong. 

But you couldn’t admit that to Eddie. He’d say he told you so, and you didn’t think you could stand to hear that right now. “I know.” You said. “I think I’m just worried about Will and Dustin and it’s making me a little crazy.” You told him. It wasn’t a complete lie. It wasn’t the whole truth either, but it was all you were willing to admit. 

Of course, Eddie was your best friend. He had been since middle school, and he probably knew you as well as Dustin did. He could sense you weren’t being honest with him. “You sure about that?” 

You didn’t want to answer. You let out a sigh, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. “You were right. I need to get out of here. Maybe take a nap or something.” You said, holding out your hand for the keys to his van. 

Eddie dropped them into your palm without protest, going to hold the door open for you. “Whatever you say.” He said, but he didn’t sound convinced. The two of you sat in silence for a moment while you both got situated in your seats, and you started the car up before he spoke again. “I will say that was one of your more badass moments though.” 

You shook your head, sending him a small smile. He was right after all. It wasn’t often that you spoke up like that. The problem was, after a moment like that, you should feel proud of yourself right? 

Then why did you feel so disappointed?

[lovable-liar]

UNPAID INTERN SCHLATT ASK

Schlatt watching y/n with the kids and just loving how they interact with them. Like Y/n hitting Schlatt over the head for teaching them about Andrew Cuomo and the kids laughing...

...I have baby fever.

...as do I, and it's his fault.

I also went very off task with this, I'm sowwy 🥺

When you got a message from Ludwig asking if you would like to be a contestant on a new game show of his, you were honestly very excited!

You were a huge streamer on the platform, but it wasn't often that you were called upon to compete in real life games!

You were a fan favorite on Name Your Price, for your style and your ability in the game, so after Ludwig pitched Unpaid Intern to you...

You were hooked.

And you were reeled in even further once you found out who you would be competing against!

Daniel Thrasher, a man of many talents and one you found yourself quote tweeting about a lot on your alt to "thank" him for his "service" in "aiding" you to "learn piano"

Lily Pichu, a lovely little lady that (when you ever encountered her) had only ever been the kindest thing to you

Kyedae, a friend of yours that you frequently streamed with and raided!

And jschlatt, infamous, Jonathan Schlatt.

A personal friend of yours!

You and Schlatt first met during the days of the Lunch Club, dark days, sure, but Ted, Charlie, himself, and yourself pulled each other up by the boot straps and created salvation!

Chuckle Sandwich was is that salvation.

And through salvation, you two had formed a strong bond. You created inside jokes for your communities, inside jokes between you and your co-hosts, and inside jokes that only the two of you would ever come to understand.

But, to say you were just friends is an understatement.

To be honest, neither of you really knew what you were.

But you both liked that!

Sure, it became a pain when trying to figure out if you could go out on a date with someone, but it was also nice because technically nothing was happening, you didn't have to hide anything from viewers.

But, Schlatt was always one of the first people you turned to if ever something happened, which, something had happened! You were competing against each other soon! You had to text him-

jslut: yoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

toots💙: wat

jslut: ur on upi?

toots💙: upi?

jslut: unpaid intern

jslut: luds thing?

toots💙: ah yes upi

jslut: r u?

toots💙: yes...? 👀

jslut: kk

toots💙: ur so dry over text wtf?!!?!

jslut: i love you too, sugar tits 💙

When-

jslut: how long r u gonna be in texas for?

toots💙: couple days prob

toots💙: im trying to find ppl to film/do stuff with bc i dont wanna fly over just to do one thing and then just fly back

toots💙: productive, you get me?

jslut: film with me

jslut: ill find something for us to do

toots💙: alr but ive got a lot of bitches on my roster so be grateful im spending my time on you, slut

jslut: shut the fuck up, you're the slut here

toots💙: that's blatantly (racist/homophobic/sexist/etc.)

jslut: bye

toots💙: bye bye bbg, daddy can't wait to see you again <3

WHEN YOU GOT TO TEXAS (swear to god if you interrupt me again-)

You texted Schlatt a picture of you in the airport, stood in front of a promotional poster that had the american flag on it, saluting.

You shoved your phone back into your pocket in search of some good fucking food, but you couldn't quite focus on reading the menu while your ass cheek vibrated with fifteen (you counted each vibration) messages.

jslut: first of all, ur supposed to put ur hand on your heart, not fucking salute

jslut: second of all, what airport r u at?

jslut: i'll come get u

jslut: don't order an uber, they're shitty

jslut: i'll be ur uber

jslut: ill bring u a red fucking carpet

jslut: toots

jslut: toots

jslut: babycakes

jslut: did u order an uber?

jslut: did u get kidnapped? wtf

jslut: answer me toots

jslut: send me ur location

jslut: as soon as i see u im downloading a fucking tracker onto ur phone

toots💙: can you stop vibrating my ass for two seconds? im getting food

jslut: vibrating ur ass?

jslut: i wish

toots💙: food acquired, im at dfw

jslut: kk omw

toots💙: where should i meet u?

toots💙: r u kidding me?

toots💙: fuck u

You hunkered down in the food court to wait of the arrival of your beloved uber driver while you ate and played on your phone

You were expecting him to text you back any minute now since he never left his messages unanswered for too long (that's not entirely true, he never leaves *your* messages unanswered, ever, but he'd never tell you that, ever.)

But as 1:00pm became 1:26pm, you began to feel a little anxious

How long have you been sat here for?

Does that man want to sit here?

Should you move?

Are people staring?

Okay- just, stay seated, he'll be here soon.

Where are your headphones?

Where are your bags?!

Oh- okay, it's right there... where you left it.

And your headphones are around your neck.

Do you have your wallet?

Yeah, it's in one of your bags.

WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOUR BAGS-

"Heeey, toots! 'S good to see you again." A deep, familiar voice calls out, he has your bags too!

"I got you a baggy of fruit from seven eleven!"

"Aww, you shouldn't have!" He twirls his hair around his finger.

"Gotta feed my baby girl right."

"Alright, you're done." Schlatt announces, before bending down to grab a handful of the meat just above your knees before throwing you over his shoulder and tucking your bags under his other arm.

"Jonathan! You put me down right now!"

"No."

"People are staring!" You whisper shout.

"You called me 'baby girl' 'n the first five finger-fuckin' seconds of our first face to face conversation in three months instead of kissin' me, 'm not puttin' you down."

The walk back to his car consisted of kicking your legs, lots of people staring, a surprising amount of awing, Schlatt having to readjust your clothes every two to three seconds just so you'd keep a semblance of your dignity, and a security guard even opened the door for him!

I mean- this man could have legitimately been kidnapping you, and nobody even *attempted* to help you!

But, then again, you weren't really putting up *much* of a fight.

Once you reached his car, he opened the trunk and shoved your bags in before sauntering round to the passenger's side.

After he so chivalrously opened the door for you, he plopped you down into the seat from your perch on his shoulder, making sure to hold your head so you wouldn't bang it before he placed one hand on the dash and the other on the head rest.

He leaned you back slowly, playfully, before finally accepting his kiss from you.

It was nice.

It re-awoke the butterflies in your tummy that seemingly crisped up and died whenever he wasn't around.

After the extraordinarily drawn out kiss, you embarked on the scenic drive to Schlatt's house, where you found yourself having the first 'argument' with him in the months you hadn't seen each other.

"Where're you stayin'?"

"I booked a hotel-"

"Bull-fucking-shit I'm lettin' you stay at a fuckin' hotel, hotels are good for nothin'. You sleep in my room."

"But I paid money for that hotel room?"

"Ok? I'll pay you back."

"What?"

"Anythin' in these bags ya don't want me findin'?

"Wha-"

"I'm unpackin' for you, sweetheart."

"No, wha-"

"Ya jet lagged, go sit on the couch, watch somethin', I don' care."

Schlatt then proceeded to haul your bags upstairs and into his room, where, promptly, he shouted for you.

"Toots, I thought you said there was nuthin' in here! I've seen one of these before! 'S a.. fuckin' 'rose' vibe, or some shit?!"

"Don't touch that!"

"Whaaat?! Like I haven't seen your toys before! Like I haven't *been* your toy before."

"Schlatt!"

He also found your outfit for Ludwig's video.

"Heeey! This is cute! Gonna look like a little 50s detective more than an intern, but shit, are you gonna look adorable. 'S this your perfume? Shit, that smells good..."

He absolutely douses his own clothes in it

ONTO THE MAIN EVENT! (If anyone's still reading, anyway.)

You and Schlatt arrived together at 9:44 (which ended up giving you 2 points, whereas it landed Schlatt with 1)

After being presented with your first task, keeping a trio of toddlers entertained for fifteen minutes straight, you went straight into action.

You managed to find play dough, bubble wrap, a box of legos, some cardboard boxes, and some coloring materials!

You were the first of the bunch to entertain the kids.

"Helloooo everybody! Who do we have here?"

"Elijah!" "Rooney!" "Caleb!"

"Hey guys! I'm Y/N. Can you spell that? Let's see your handwriting, huh? On the board, can you guys write your names and then my name?"

Overall, you have an absolute blast with these guys.

First, they wanted to pop as many bubbles on the bubble wrap as they could while your phone counted down a ten second timer.

You laid out a sheet of the wrap before you all stood on your own section of it and danced, bounced, and rolled on it until the alarm sounded.

Then, the kids wanted to decorate their own boxes as cars that you pushed them around in!

A chorus of giggles and squeals could be heard emanating from the conference room from all the way across the building, even your own chuckles!

After that, Rooney, Elijah and you sculpted with the play dough while Caleb built with the lego.

Rooney made a dinosaur and Elijah made a lion, but you all gave extra props to Caleb who built all of you!

You were a little disappointed when the fifteen minutes were up, you gave each kid a high five and a ruffle of their hair before you stepped out of the conference room and closed the door (but the interaction truly ended after you pulled a face at them through the window.)

(That face definitely ended up as Schlatt's home screen.)

Next up, you were burdened with having to ensure that your backward speech is coherent and understandable!

Your key phrase was "Can I hold it while you pee?"

Surprisingly, VERY HARD!!!

You managed to get 'hold it' and 'pee'

But the rest of it?

Nada.

"Do people actually wanna hold guys'... you know... when they- pee..?" Daniel asked.

"Well- surprisingly, yes!" Ludwig, oh so helpfully, replied.

You immediately turned to Schlatt

"No, you cannot hold my dick while I piss."

Everyone erupted into laughter.

At this point, you were tied with Daniel in first!

For the map task, you were paired with Schlatt.

You two made a fucking powerhouse of a duo.

With his drawing skills and your knowledge that there was a map on the wall right to the left of you? You were UNSTOPPABLE.

And, with the last and final task, you immediately had to opt out.

The simultaneous, wet chewing sounds of EVERYONE in the room?

FUCK NO

You were not gonna be in that room for another *second*

But you didn't have to be!

You had already surpassed everyone else with flying colors.

Lud even gave you extra points for opting out because he needs a 'well-behaved employee who won't blow bubbles and stick gum to the underside of the desks.'

Schlatt did offer you some of his gum though, and when you stuck your hand out for, i don't know, a pristine, unchewed piece still wrapped in it's packaging, you got the complete opposite!

Just a glob of fluorescent pink, wet and chewed gum in the pit of your hand.

But, that's also how you found yourself here, in Schlatt's car after a long day, waiting in a drive thru.

"Today was great! You were real great with those kids, toots."

"Yeah?"

"Hell yeah!"

"I kept the lego figure Caleb made of me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah..."

"I wanna fuck a kid into you."

"Schlatt!"

[himbosandhardwear]

Slowly, like the way most things occur to Steve, he realizes that the way he and a lot of guys, probably most guys, talk about women is kinda gross. Kinda impersonal and objectable...no wait....objectifying. He loves that he can talk to Robin about chicks but as soon as he starts to say what he loves about them he realizes, though Robin likes girls, she is also a girl, and probably doesn't want to hear locker room talk. Which is when he starts to wonder if what he considers normal guy banter is actually gross douchebag banter.

"They're so warm," he says, which seems like a nice thing to say, neutral.

"I guess?" She frowns. "Guys are warm too though."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, I mean, women don't have a monopoly on body heat."

"Right," he agrees. Except what he was really thinking was the heat on the inside. Again, gross. That thought then leads to another thought. A weird, why-am-I-thinking-about-this thought. That guys are probably warm on the inside too. Definitely. Definitely warm on the inside. Shit. That's weird.

He doesn't have anyone to talk this over with anymore. Dustin is too young. Jonathan is currently getting warm with Nancy, so that doesn't seem appropriate. Wait! He can talk to Eddie!

"Is it fucked up to talk about sex stuff with Robin?" He asks Eddie the next time they're alone.

"What?" He responds.

"Like, she feels like a bro, but she's not actually a bro, cause she's a girl. Normally I'd talk about hookups with a bro but she probably doesn't want to hear about that kinda stuff."

"I guess," Eddie agrees.

"I almost said some pretty gross shit to her the other day but I stopped myself, thank god."

"How gross?"

"Just that I like how warm girls are, but, you know, on the inside. Which would be totally fine to say to another dude but she probably doesnt want to hear that from me. And then I started freaking out because it's probably just gross in general to talk about girls like that? Do you and the band talk about shit like that or was it just my asshole friends from school and I'm only just now realizing how fucked up it is?"

"Me? No, I've never talked about girls like that."

"Ah fuck, I knew it."

"But I'm pretty sure they're all virgins, so..."

"Oh. Do you ever talk about girls with anyone?"

"......no."

"I guess that means I'm an asshole."

"You're not an asshole, Steve. Talking about girls seems like a normal thing to talk about with your friends. Maybe not Robin, she might beat your ass."

"We could talk about that kinda stuff though, right?"

"Uh...."

"Never mind. It's stupid."

"No, it's just- I mean. You could tell me whatever. I'm cool."

"Oh, okay."

They stare at their feet.

"Is this weird? It feels weird."

"I'm gay, Steve."

Steve blinks. "Oh! Okay, that's cool." His eyes light up. "Wait! You'd know, are guys as warm inside as I thought?"

Eddie has a small stroke. He has to let his face say the words his mouth can't.

"Shit, it's still weird huh? Damn."

"No. Uh. It's just...why were you thinking about that?"

"Robin said girls don't have a monopoly on being warm and I just thought yeah she's right, so it makes sense that guys are just as warm as girls. It probably feels the same I mean. You don't have to tell me, you know, if it's weird to ask."

"Not weird to ask. It's just...I have no idea."

"Oohhh," Steve says. "You're a virgin too?"

"No."

Steve frowns in confusion.

Eddie wants to bury himself under a slab of concrete but makes himself explain. "You see, when guys fuck, one of thems gotta be the...warm one...as it were."

The line between his eyes doesn't lessen.

"I'm a bottom."

Still, somehow, he doesn't get it.

"Oh my god Steve, I'm the girl!"

His mouth makes a little 'O'.

"Yeah. That's not exactly how I like to describe it but you looked like you weren't visualizing. So."

Steve is having some truly deep thoughts. He's never thought about being the girl before. Like, obviously girls like being the girl. He hopes so anyway. But he's wondering what's the draw of being the girl if you're a guy.

"And you like it?" He blurts out.

Eddie, who's been a deep shade of pink already, turns violently red.

"Yup."

"Huh. Guess it makes sense. Never thought about it before though."

"Well, yeah, why would you?"

"Hey, I'm pretty open minded!"

"Sure. But straight guys don't tend to think about taking it up the ass. You know, as a rule." (A/N Eddie doesn't know wtf he's talking about)

Steve takes this in and realizes a few things, faster than he's ever realized anything before. He's thinking about it. And he's curious. And he wants to ask Eddie what it feels like and why he likes it. And he wants to ask if it hurts and if the pain is part of why he likes it. Because he thinks he might like that.

Fuck.

Okay. He can be normal about this. Eddie said Steve could talk to him about sex. It's normal and fine.

"We should fuck."

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The FTC has Big Pharma’s number

On November 27, I'm appearing at the Toronto Metro Reference Library with Facebook whistleblower Frances Haugen.

On November 29, I'm at NYC's Strand Books with my novel The Lost Cause, a solarpunk tale of hope and danger that Rebecca Solnit called "completely delightful."

The most consistent bright spot in the dark swirl of US politics is the competence of the Biden Administration's progressive enforcers: people like Rohit Chopra, Jonathan Kanter and Lina Khan, who keep demonstrating just how far a good administrator can go. Anyone can have a vision, but knowing how to execute is the difference between hot air and real change:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/23/getting-stuff-done/#praxis

Take a minute to contrast Biden's administrators with Trump's: Trump's administrators had an ideological vision just as surely as Biden's do, and Trump himself had a much more pronounced and explicit ideology than Biden, whose governance style is much more about balancing the Democratic Party's blocs than bringing about a specific set of policies:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/06/personnel-are-policy/#janice-eberly

But whatever clarity of vision the Trump administration brought to DC was completely undermined by its incompetence (thankfully!). Apart from one gigantic tax break, Trump couldn't get stuff done. He couldn't deliver, because he'd lose his temper or speak out of turn:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/14/when-youve-lost-the-fedsoc/#anti-buster-buster

And his administrators followed his lead. Scott Pruitt was appointed to run the EPA after a career spent suing the agency. It could have been the realization of his life's dream to dismantle environmental law in America and open the floodgates for unlimited, wildly profitable corporate pollution and pillaging. But the dream died because he kept getting embroiled in absurd scandals – like the time he sent his staffers out to drive around all night looking for a good deal on a used mattress:

https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/politics-news/epa-s-pruitt-told-aide-obtain-old-mattress-trump-hotel-n879836

Or his insistence on installing a CIA-style "Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility" (SCIF) so he could play super-spy while reading memos:

https://www.cnn.com/2018/04/26/politics/epa-administrator-scott-pruitt-sound-proof-booth-scif/index.html

Or the time he sent his security detail to the Ritz-Carlton to demand that they supply him lots of little bottles of his favorite hand-cream:

https://www.vox.com/2018/6/7/17439044/scott-pruitt-ritz-carlton-moisturizing-lotion

There were other examples in the Trump administration, but Priutt is such a good case-study. He's like a guy who spent his whole life training to compete in the Olympics, and finally got a shot, only to be disqualified for ordering too much room-service in the Olympic Village. Priutt was wildly ambitious, but he was profoundly undisciplined – and wildly incompetent.

Compare that with Biden's progressive enforcers and agency heads, who showed up on the first day of work with an encyclopedic knowledge of their administrative powers, and detailed plans for using them to transform the lives of the American people for the better:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/18/administrative-competence/#i-know-stuff

The Biden administration's competence translates into action, getting stuff done. Maybe that shouldn't surprise us, given the difference between the stories that reactionaries and progressives tell about where change comes from.

In reactionary science fiction, we enter the realm of the "Competent Man" story. Think of a Heinlein hero, who is "able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyse a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly."

In Competent Man stories, a unitary hero steps into the breach and solves the problem – if not single-handedly, then as the leader of others, whose lesser competence is a base metal that the Competent Man hammers into a tempered blade:

https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Creator/RobertAHeinlein

Contrast this with a progressive tale, like, say, Kim Stanley Robinson's Ministry For the Future, where the Competent Man is replaced by the Competent Administration, in which people of goodwill and technical competence figure out how to join forces to create population-scale architectures of participation that allow every person to contribute their skills and perspective:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/03/ministry-for-the-future/#ksr

The right's whole ideology insists that the world can only be saved by Competent Men. As Corey Robin writes in The Reactionary Mind, the unifying factor that binds together conservative factions from monarchists to racists to Christian Dominionists is the belief that a few of us are born to rule, and the rest to be ruled over:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/25/mafia-logic/#mafia-logic

The Reaganite insistence that governments are, by their very nature, incompetent and malign ("The nine most terrifying words in the English language are, 'I’m from the government, and I’m here to help'"), means that conservatives deny the possibility of a Competent Administration.

When conservatives take office and proceed to bungle the most basic elements of administration, they're fulfilling their own campaign narrative, which starts with "We must dismantle the government because it is bad at everything." Conservatives who govern badly prove their own point, which explains a lot about the UK Tory Party's long run of governmental failure and electoral success:

https://apnews.com/article/uk-suella-braverman-fired-cabinet-shuffle-7ea6c89306a427cc70fba75bc386be79

There's a small mercy in the fact that so many of the most ideologically odious and extreme conservative governments are so technically incompetent in governing, and thus accomplish so little of their agendas.

But the inverse – the incredible competence of the best progressive administrators – is nothing short of a delight to witness. Here's the latest example to cross my path: the FTC has intervened in a lawsuit over generic insulin pricing, on an issue that is incredibly technically specific and also fantastically important:

https://www.fiercepharma.com/pharma/ftc-blasts-pharmas-abuse-fda-patent-system-sanofi-mylans-insulin-monopoly-lawsuit

The underlying case is before the FDA, and it concerns the dirty tricks that pharma giant Sanofi used to keep Mylan from making a generic version of Mylan's Lantus insulin after its patent expired.

There's an explicit bargain in patents: inventors can enlist the government to punish their rivals for copying their ideas, but in exchange, the government demands that the inventor has to describe how the invention works in a detailed patent filing, and when the patent expires, 20 years later, rivals can use the patent application as instructions for freely copying and selling the invention. In other words: you get 20 years of exclusive rights in return for facilitating your competitors' copying and selling your invention when the 20 years are up.

Pharma doesn't like this, naturally: not content with 20 years of exclusivity, they want the government to step in and punish their competitors forever. In service to that end, pharma companies have perfected a process called evergreening, where they dribble out ancillary patents after their initial filing, covering minor reformulations, delivery systems, or new uses.

Evergreening got a moment in the public eye earlier this year, with John Green's viral campaign to shame Johnson & Johnson out of using evergreening to restrict poor countries' access to TB medication:

https://armandalegshow.com/episode/john-green-part-1/

The story of pharma is that it commands gigantic profits, but it invests those profits into medicines that save our lives. The reality is that most of the key underlying pharma research is publicly funded (by Competent Administrators who apportion funding to promising scientific inquiry). Pharma companies' most inventive genius is devoted to inventing new evergreening tactics:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/19/solid-tumors/#t-cell-receptors

That's where the FTC comes in, in this Sanofi-Mylan case. To facilitate the production of generic, off-patent drugs, the FDA maintains a database called the "Orange Book," where pharma companies are asked to enumerate all the ancillary patents associated with a product whose patent is expiring. That way, generics manufacturers who make their own version of these public domain drugs and therapeutics don't accidentally stumble over one of those later patents – say, by replicating a delivery system or special coating that is still in patent.

This is where the endless, satanic inventiveness of the pharma sector comes in. You see, US law provides for triple damages for "willful patent infringement." If you are a generics manufacturer eyeing up a drug whose patent is about to expire and you are notified that some other patents might be implicated in your plans, you must ensure that you don't accidentally infringe one of those patents, or face business-destroying statutory damages.

So pharma companies stuff the Orange Book full of irrelevant patent claims they say may be implicated in a generic manufacture program. Each of these claims has to be carefully evaluated, both by a scientific team and a legal team, because patents are deliberately obfuscated in the hopes of tricking an inattentive patent examiner into granting patents for unpatentable "inventions":

https://blueironip.com/patents-that-hide-the-ball/

What's more, when a pharma giant notifies the FDA that it has ancillary patents that are relevant to the Orange Book, this triggers a 30-month delay before a generic can be marketed – adding 2.5 years to the 20 year patent term. That delay is sometimes enough to cause a manufacturer to abandon plans to market a generic drug – so the delay isn't 2.5 years, it's infinite.

This is a highly technical, highly consequential form of evergreening. It's obscure as hell, and requires a deep understanding of patent obfuscation, ancillary patent filings, generic pharma industry practice, and the FDA's administrative procedures.

Sanofi's Orange Book entry for Lantus insulin listed 50 related patent claims. Of these, 48 were invalidated through "inter partes" review (basically the Patent Office decided they shouldn't have allowed these claims to be included on a patent). Neither of the remaining two claims were found to be relevant to the manufacture of generic Lantus.

This is where the FTC's filing comes in: their amicus brief doesn't take a position whether Sanofi's Orange Book entries were fraudulent, but they do ask the FDA to intervene to prevent Orange Book stuffing because "improper listings can cause significant harm to competition and consumers."

This is the kind of boring, technical, important stuff that excellent administrators can do. The FTC's brief is notice to the FDA that it should amend its procedures to ban (and punish) Orange Book abuse. That will make it possible for you, a person who needs medicine, to get that medicine more cheaply and quickly. In America's pay-for-use privatized healthcare hellscape, this could be a life-or-death matter.

There's plenty of things the Biden administration is getting very, very badly wrong, but we shouldn't lose sight of how its progressive wing is making real, lasting change for the better. Competent Administrations are the true peoples' champions. They beat Competent Men every time.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/23/everorangeing/#taste-the-rainbow