#murray i could treat you right

[vulcannic]

he’s my babygirl

the he in question:

[brooooswriting]

hiii it’s my first time making a request and I saw that you were looking for Leighton Murray x reader requests.

So I was thinking about Leighton x reader, where reader knows Leightons dad and he tries to match them up. And she’s like the whole package, she plays soccer with Whitney, is an Lgbt advocate and also joins Leighton’s advanced math class. Leighton feels threatened so it’s like academic enemies to lovers.

You're better than me

“Hello,” you greeted Leighton and the other two people in the room as she walked into her advanced math class. She was new in there after her family forced her to take harder classes. The other two greeted you happily while Leighton only rolled her eyes. You had to hold in a scoff, even if she wasn't the biggest fan of you, was it so hard to say hello?

While Leighton wished that this was the only time that she had to see you, it wasn't. You were also on the football team with Whitney and you often visited the women's center. So, she wasn't safe anywhere cause Whitney liked to bring you into their dorm to study since you were pretty good in all your classes.

This was precisely why Leighton could not be more excited for the family weekend, which was crazy because her family was exhausting. But at least you would be busy too, or at least she guessed that you would be.

“Hey Dad,” she said as her father got out of the car. He immediately walked up to hug her, holding her too close for her to get any air.

“Hello, how are you? How is Essex treating you?” he asked, not really hearing the answer as she had to mumble into his chest. “I can't wait for dinner tonight, I want you to meet somebody” he added as he finally let her go.

“Meet somebody? Please tell me you don't have a side chick.” She frowned looking at him.

“Leighton! No, of course not. Now, let's go. I believe we have a packed schedule.” She nodded and followed him into the building, constantly thinking about who she might have to meet. The blonde had to say that the day went quite well, it mostly did when she was alone with her dad. They talked about college, her mum and Nico, about what she might do after her years at Essex and how his job was going.

After some long hours, it was finally time to go eat and she would finally see who he would want her to meet. As they walked into the restaurant her heart stopped when she was to whom her father was walking. There you sat in a women's suit, with some makeup and heels. God, she hated the fact that she was attracted to you right now.

“Y/n, it's so lovely of you to meet us here,” her dad said as he hugged you, making her nearly gasp. You gave him a smile as you hugged him back.

“No problem, Henry!” you told him and again the blonde nearly gasped. You turned toward her and sent her a big smile. “Hey Leighton, it's nice to see you,” you said as you pulled out the chair for her. Henry did not tell you that he would bring Leighton tonight which made the whole thing kinda awkward. You actually liked her but she seemed to hate you.

She sent you a tight-lipped smile and sat down, you and Henry then joining. “So, it seems like you two already know each other,” Henry said, giving you both a big smile while his daughter rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, we do. But, just out of interest, how do YOU TWO know each other?” the girl who hated you asked, aggressively pointing between you and him.

“Oh well, after you came out your dad wanted to know what to do, and how to act. You know it can be hard for parents of gay kids, even when they accept their children for it. They never know what is too much and what is not enough” you started to explain but didn't get far.

“Can you maybe skip all this shit and just answer my question?” she snapped making her father furrow his brows.

“Yeah, of course. Since I am an LGBT advocate your dad asked me for help” You gave her a short nod when you finished your explanation.

“Why would you ask her dad? And why would you want me to meet her?” It wasn't hard to see that she was annoyed, by you, her dad and just life in general you guessed.

“Well, she's a great woman Leighton. She plays football, has a scholarship for it, she is great at math, she is part of the lgbtq and she is exactly your type” You wanted to disappear so bad right now and it seems like Leighton wanted the same thing. For you to disappear. Her eyes were wide and her brows raised as she stared at him with disbelief.

“Dad! I told you we’re not gonna talk about my dating life. Not ever. Got it? And especially her” well, that hurt. Henry gave her an unhappy look before giving you a sorry one. You only gave him a short nod to signal that it was alright.

“Leighton that’s enough! I’ll go to the restrooms real quick before we eat” he stood up and walked away. As soon as his back was turned towards you the blonde was on her phone.

“Look,” you started and pushed her phone down so she could look at you “I know that you hate me for some weird reason but your dad was really nice and asked me to come so I said yes. I didn’t know that you were coming alright? So how about you use some manners and act like you can at least stand being in a room with me huh?” She only picked up her phone again making you sigh. “I don’t get why they talked about you so nice in the women center” you mumbled out making her look up from her phone.

“What did you just say?” She couldn’t believe your audacity. Who did you think you are that you go and talk to her and about her like that? Especially mentioning her ex. God, she hated you. You were so annoying and she didn’t even know why.

“I said that I do not understand why they said that you were nice and shit. I was really happy when I heard that you were in my advanced math class, but you only acted like a bitch the whole damn time. You even do it when I visit Whit, and the only thing I ever said to you there was ‘hi’” you ranted, happy to finally say what you’ve been thinking of for so long. Luckily for you, Henry came back before the blonde could say anything else.

“So, did you guys decide what you want to eat?” He asked as he sat down.

That was one of the most exhausting dinners you ever had. And after hours, Leighton still kinda ignored you and Henry ordering his drink extremely weird you were finally out. “Are you sure you don’t want us to drive you back to college? It’s quite far” the man asked again making you chuckle.

“Yes Henry, thank you tho. I’ll walk, need a bit of fresh air and exercise” it was a lie. You didn’t really feel like walking but the thought of sitting in a car with Leighton was not even close to what you dreamed of, so walking seemed like the best idea.

And after a really long discussion with Henry, he finally let you go. “Wait, I think I will walk with her dad. Then you can make your way back home, it’s late already and I could use the fresh air too” you sighed internally but didn’t want to make this awkward in front of the older Murray.

You waited for them to say goodbye before making your way back to college. “Why?” You just asked after a few moments of walking as you just couldn’t keep your curiosity at bay anymore.

“Didn’t wanna discuss this whole thing with him” you chuckled at her answer, it was clear that she didn’t wanna talk so you just shut up and kept walking. At some point you looked over to see the blonde hugging herself, goosebumps covering her arms. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath before deciding what to do. Right now, you hated her as much as she hated you. Why did she have to be so endearing and cute while being a goddamn asshole at the same time?

“Here” you mumbled as you draped your jacket over her shoulders, making sure that it would stay.

“What the fuck? What the fuck am I supposed to do with your cheap ass jacket?” She asked, but her voice wasn’t as harsh as it usually was as she noticed the goosebumps now covering your arms.

“Get warm. Just accept it, it doesn’t mean that you have to like me or anything. Look, I’ll even fall back ok? You can walk in front of me so nobody realizes that we were somewhere together” you immediately slowed down and let her walk to get some distance but she stopped too.

“This is a bit much don’t you think? It will be even weirder when we do it like that”

“Why do you hate me? I’ve been nice to you, you hate me. I ignore you, you still hate me and try to bully me. Why? What did I do to you? I was really excited to meet you” you looked her straight in the eyes, this time you weren’t going to break it first.

“No particular reason” she shrugged but it was a lie, this time it was obvious. So you just kept staring at her, challenging her to go with her lie. “Fine, I just feel like you may be smarter and a bit more academically advanced than me which made me… I don’t know. I just don’t like it, and then you also have to be hot and trained, I mean even now I can see your damn abs” you couldn’t help but grin as you finally knew why she hated you.

“You know, if you really feel like I am smarter than you, then I can’t say anything else other than would happily tutor you” you joked, breaking out in laughter while Leighton hit your shoulder, an unamused look on her face. “Alright, I’m sorry. But I think the same thing about you, you’re extremely smart. Way smarter than people think you are and as if that wasn’t hot enough, you also look hot. Like damn. But I was so excited to meet you because I’ve been crushing on you since you came to one of our games” you smiled, this time it was a real smile.

“And… even after I treated you like shit, would you still be open to… you know?” She asked, her voice unsure.

“Otherwise you wouldn’t have my jacket right now. So, do you wanna go on a date?”

“You really still wanna go?”

“Yeah, I do”

“Then I would love to”

“Finally” you mumbled as you walked closer to her, one hand slowly going towards her waist. You moved slow enough for her to move away, but were more than happy when she stepped closer too. After she didn’t make any sign of discomfort you leaned in and pressed your lips to hers, kissing her softly.

“I should have stopped being a bitch way earlier” she mumbled before kissing you again, the kiss getting more passionate.

You walked her home, your hands brushing against each other every now and then making a warm feeling spread in both of your stomachs. “Alright, so we will go out tomorrow after math?” You confirmed, smiling when she gave you a nod. This time she leaned in first, kissing you again before giving you your jacket.

“I cannot believe you beat me by one point in this damn math game��� Leighton complained on the way to the restaurant you were taking her. You chuckled as this had been going on for about 15 minutes.

“Well you said it yourself, i am smarter than you” you joked, petting her back to assure her that you were joking. By the time the blonde finally shut up about this game you had arrived.

“Go y/n, go Whitney” Leighton screamed as she stood up while watching you and her roommate play, her body clad in your soccer jacket. The sight making you smile every time. After the game was won you quickly ran to Leighton pressing a kiss to her lips. “You did So well” she praised.

Her roommates watched from the other side as you and her smiled at each other, a similar happiness adorning your faces. A happiness no ex of Leighton had ever put on her face.

You couldn’t wait to see Where this relationship would lead.

[thethirdromana]

You have done cheeses. How about dessert.

Ooh, good idea.

See, the thing about Victorian food is that a lot of it sounds pretty unappealing from the vantage point of the 21st century. There were a lot of overboiled vegetables and stodgy meals designed to get you through winters with no central heating.

But Victorian desserts? Much more reliably delicious. So I can restrict myself to the desserts that these characters might actually have eaten. No tiramisu (1960s) or banoffee pie (1971).

Starting off with an easy one, RM Renfield is the traditional Scottish fruit slice (which I already highlighted in my food guide to Dracula) known as flies graveyard. I'm going to trust that one doesn't need any additional exploration.

Lucy Westenra is light (literally: "Lucy" means light), pretty, and appealing to small children. OK, admittedly the eater-eaten relationship goes the other way around with the small children vs Lucy-as-dessert, but I think it still works. She's a bombe glacée, a spherical ice-cream dessert that first appeared on restaurant menus in the 1880s.

I had a fun browse through Dutch desserts before I found the perfect one for Abraham van Helsing. He's the old man of the story, but he's still a little bit spicy and a little bit divisive - much like anise, which flavours Dutch oudewijvenkoek, or old wives' cake.

For Quincey Morris, there could only be one option. He's from Texas, y'all, he is obviously peach cobbler.

Continuing with the suitors, the obvious answer for Arthur Holmwood would be a dessert associated with wealth and privilege - perhaps Eton Mess, traditionally served at the annual cricket match between Eton and Harrow Schools, and first mentioned in print in 1893. But Eton Mess is a light, sweet, inconsequential sort of dessert and that just doesn't seem right for Arthur. Instead, I'd associate him with a rich, indulgent, traditional, solid plum pudding.

Jack Seward is in some ways the most modern of the suitors. Also the most highly strung. He's cherries jubilee, a brand-new dessert in 1897 as it was (probably) created that year for Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee. It's full of liqueur (suitably for Jack, who's full of chloral) and it gets flambéed at the table.

I have to admit that I struggled with Jonathan Harker. Maybe I just love him too much to caricature him, you know? But what I came down is that he needed to be a beloved treat, available on menus across the UK, not wildly expensive, not wildly luxurious. And also, Jonathan goes through a lot of trials and drinks a lot of tea in this novel. Jonathan is a toasted teacake.

As for Mina Harker née Murray, it seemed appropriate that she should be a similar sort of dessert to her husband. So he's a bun with dried fruit and she's a bread with dried fruit. Specifically, she's an Irish soda bread (since Murray is an Irish surname) that is known either as Spotted Dog or - more suitably for Mina - railway cake.

[dreamofbecoming]

here we are at last! there have been a bunch of posts lately about how neither eddie nor robin have any gaydar to speak of, but steve canonically does, and also vickie definitely left fast times paused on purpose as a flag, and frankly all of you are just so objectively True and Correct that i had no choice but to write about it. parts 1 and 2 not strictly necessary for context but definitely set in the same universe

part 1 part 2 ao3

platonic stobin, rockie, steddie

rating: t

wc: 8.4k (holy fuck it got away from me)

---

Robbie isn't drunk yet, but she's getting there.

Honestly, Steve should probably slow her down, but what the hell. They're celebrating, after all. He'll cut her off in a bit, but she deserves to have some fun. They all do.

It's been three weeks since Eddie got out of the hospital, one since he was finally let off bedrest. Or, not exactly bedrest, but enough restrictions that he was basically confined to the trailer (brand new, courtesy of Owens and his goons), and from the way he complained the whole time you'd think they had him chained to the bedposts.

Hm. Maybe thinking of Eddie chained to bedposts isn't the best use of Steve's time. Not here, anyway. That's a Later activity.

It's the first house party any of them have been invited to since Spring Break, thrown by one of Robin's band friends. None of them planned on going, except that two days ago a frantic call came over the All Hands channel on the walkie that El had finally broken through, Max was awake, and the doctors thought her arms and legs would eventually, almost, make a full recovery, granted with lots of physical therapy.

Apparently the only useful thing Vecna ever did was break her bones at right angles so they could set them cleanly. Her vision will probably never fully return, but she's alive. She's alive, and she's awake, and she's apparently being a complete menace to the nurses, which is more comforting to Steve than any of the rest of it, so how could they ask for anything else?

Steve still feels like he's taking his first real breath after drowning every time he inhales. He's not sure he'll ever stop feeling this relief. It's so sharp it's almost painful.

So they're at this party, and they're celebrating. There's a real celebration planned, of course, with the whole Party and assorted extras, Murray (ugh) and Jonathan's California friend (who seems nice), Joyce and Hopper (and isn't that a trip) and Eddie and Wayne (Eddie read him in immediately, to no one's surprise) and everyone else. They've got plans to descend on Steve's house as soon as Max is allowed out of the hospital, where they'll presumably trash his mother's nice white carpets and eat through his snacks like locusts and enrage his neighbors with their shrieking in the pool. Hopper and Wayne will fight over who gets to work the grill until Joyce gets fed up and takes over and Eddie will commandeer the sound system and Robin will laugh at Steve for frantically switching between Host Mode and Lifeguard Mode until she finds someone big enough to sit on him and make him eat something. He can't wait.

But for now, they're at this party, and they're celebrating. With someone else's alcohol, which is a nice treat for Steve.

He's leaning against the wall by the kitchen doorway, sipping something Robin made him that tastes like paint thinner and looks like undiluted red food dye. He's surprised it hasn't eaten through the bottom of the cup like that green gunk from the elevator. He doesn't quite feel like joining the crush of people in the living room. He's felt a little off since Spring Break, a little lost inside his head. He knows Robin can tell, but she hasn't pushed him, other than dragging him here tonight. He's so grateful for her he thinks he could cry.

He doesn't, though, he just watches her from the kitchen doorway, squished on a couch between Vickie and who he thinks might be one of Eddie's bandmates. He recognizes him from those nights he would pick the kids up from Hellfire at the school, and also from Eddie's hospital room. He's got fluffy hair and a flannel shirt around his waist. Gary, maybe? Garth? Steve's not sure. He'd introduce himself and find out for sure, but apparently, carrying Eddie's bleeding not-quite-corpse on his back into the hospital and throwing around his father's name until someone agreed to treat him before collapsing in the lobby from his own injuries wasn't quite enough to erase the contempt for King Steve, so Steve's been mostly avoiding those guys. Eddie swears he's working on it. Steve...should maybe care more than it feels like he does. He thinks maybe a lot of things should feel more...more, than they do. But that's a problem for Later Steve. It's fine. He's fine. He's handling it.

He watches Robin, and she's laughing, and she's not quite drunk yet, and he's glad for her. This is what he wanted. This is what he wished for, on that flipped over bucket, in that field. That they'd all get through it. That they'd all get to keep smiling and doing stupid teenager shit. He maybe wishes he felt a little more like someone who wanted to do stupid teenager shit and a little less like someone watching his friends have fun from behind a plate-glass window, but he'll take it. Whatever he can get, he'll take it.

He looks back at Robin, and, huh. She's still laughing, but now she's between Eddie and Maybe-Gary-Maybe-Garth. He follows Robin's less-than-subtle (crimeny, this girl, he's gotta teach her a goddamn poker face) longing gaze and sees a flash of red heading for the back door.

This feels like a chance to do something useful. Robin will be ok, Eddie will keep an eye on her.

He follows Vickie out the back door. He finds her leaned against the back of the house, her eyes closed, her head tilted back. She's smiling. She really is pretty, Steve can see why Robin likes her. God, he hopes he's right about her. Either way, he's determined to find out. It's what Robin deserves.

"Hey, Vickie. Come out for some fresh air?"

Her smile gets bigger when she turns to him. He really hopes he's right about her, she's a fucking sweetheart. He hopes he isn't about to do something hugely stupid. Knowing him, he probably is, but also knowing him, he's gonna do it anyway.

"Hey Steve! Yeah, I was just getting a little warm in there. How about you? Smoke break?"

"Nah, I'm trying to quit. Robin hates them, she keeps stealing them out of my mouth, so it's somehow more expensive and I don't even get to smoke them. Easier to just stop. Which is probably her goal," he laughs.

"You and Robin are pretty close, huh?"

"Oh yeah, platonic soulmates. With a capital P!" He makes an incredibly dorky gesture with his hands, and has to stop himself from facepalming. Great going, dingus.

Still, Vickie's smile gets a little wider, which he thinks is probably a win.

"That's why I came out here, actually. I wanted a chance to talk to you." Her eyebrows go up. Always with the goddamn eyebrows around here. "Not, like, in a creepy way! Or, well, I guess that's what a creep would say, but I swear I'm not! I just meant, because Robin really likes you," shit, too much, "I mean, she likes hanging out with you, and she's my best friend and all, so I wanted to. Um. Get to know you better. You know. For Robin."

"...For Robin."

He groans. "I swear I didn't used to be like this. I used to be able to talk like a normal person. I didn't know that was a skill you could lose! I would have worked harder at it!" She's laughing at him now, but at least she's polite enough to hide her giggles behind her hand. That's something.

He sighs, and throws his head back to take a deep breath and try and come back to his body, like Robin showed him. Having therapist parents sounds like a nightmare to Steve, but it has its uses, he guesses.

He looks back at Vickie, who is watching him with what seems like more amusement than concern, so he's taking that as a win. If she's laughing, she's not running away. He sticks his hand out.

"Hi, I'm Steve. You're really important to the most important person in my life, so I'd really like to be your friend." He tries to give her his most winning smile, but honestly he's a little worried his teeth are still red from that godawful drink.

She grins at him, still definitely laughing at him a little but more genuine than before, and shakes his hand. "I'm Vickie, and you're really important to someone I hope will become really important to me, so I'd love to be your friend."

He doesn't breathe a sigh of relief, but it's a close thing. King Steve decided to stay in tonight, apparently, so he's on his own, and boy oh boy is he worse than he remembered.

"So, new friend, what do you want to get to know about me?"

Thank fuck Vickie's carrying so much of the weight here, honestly.

"We could, uh, talk about movies?" Jesus Christ, where did all the goddamn Harrington Charm go, anyway? Did Vecna eat it?!

There go the eyebrows again. He's cursed, he really is. "Movies?"

"Yeah, you know, I work at a movie store. Or I did, anyway. With Robbie. Pretty sure it went under in the quake though. That or Keith just fired us and didn't bother calling to let us know." He laughs awkwardly. He's doing fucking everything awkwardly, honestly. He hasn't even asked the question yet and he's already sweating bullets. No wonder Bobbie was so scared to confront this head-on. "Anyway, it can tell you a lot about a person, you know. Their favorite movie."

Come on, take the bait. Take it.

She nods seriously at him. "Oh I get that for sure, you can learn a lot about someone by their favorite book. I used to volunteer at the library and there was always gossip about who checked out what romance novel and whether that meant their marriage was on the rocks, you know?" She giggles, hiding behind her hand for a second. "I guess it was kind of mean, but we never said anything to anyone outside the library, and never to their face, you know? It was just something to keep us entertained on slow days."

Fantastic, he can work with this.

"Oh totally, I completely get it. Robs and I did the same thing at Family Video, making up stories about what we imagined people's lives were like that they were renting Casablanca and Gremlins on the same night, you know? Like, what does that evening look like? Which one do they watch first?"

She laughs. Perfect. She took the bait, now he's just gotta reel her in. Or something. He's never been fishing.

"You know, I usually rent my movies from Family Video. Did you guys ever look up my rental history?"

Aaaand, got her!

"You know, I think we did, actually, not that I'm helping the creep allegations," he winks at her. She slaps him on the shoulder. There we go, there's the Harrington Charm. Jesus fuck, where has it been all night? Sleeping?

Moment of truth, here we go.

"Fast Times At Ridgemont High, right?" He keeps his eyes on her face while he says it. He needs to see how she reacts.

She's been watching a raccoon rummaging through the neighbor's trash, but as soon as he mentions the movie, she whips her head around and looks at him sharply.

She studies his face intently in the glow from the floodlights above the garage. Whatever she finds, the fear in her eyes fades just slightly to caution. All good signs.

Fuck, this is harder than he remembers. Talking in code and reading all the subtle little shifts in body language involved in this conversation is stretching muscles in his brain he's forgotten he had. His friends these days all just sort of...say whatever they mean, straight out. He thought it was weird and off-putting at first, but now that he's doing this dance again, he's realizing he hasn't missed it.

The things he does for Robin, honestly.

He can see the moment she decides to trust him, even though she's still tense. She takes a deep breath, like she's gearing up for something. "That's a good one, for sure. You know, I think I maybe forgot to rewind it the last time I returned it? I paused it at my favorite part, but I think I got distracted and never finished it. I hope that doesn't cause too much trouble for you guys at your job. I'd hate to be one of those customers."

Jesus, this chick is brave. She's basically just coming right out and saying it! Holy shit, he's about to get Robbie a girlfriend! Ok, ok be cool. Bring it home, nice and easy.

"Nah, not a problem at all. Besides, I think I remember that tape, and we have the same favorite part, I think. All three of us." Fuck he hopes this isn't a mistake. If he just fucked up and outed Robin for no reason he'll- fuck, he doesn't know what he'll do. Ask El to open the gate back up so he can throw himself into it, probably.

Vickie's eyes go wide. "Robin too?" There's something like hope in her voice. He thinks. He hopes, anyway. Maybe he's just projecting, but he really thinks he's been right on the money from the start. He just needs to prove it to Rob and give them both a push.

"Yeah, Robin too. Now me, I like Fast Times a lot, but I also really like The Outsiders, you know?" A truth for a truth. Nothing is free, he remembers this dance. Trust is always earned.

He didn't realize her eyes could get any bigger, but somehow they do. Slowly, a grin spreads across her face. "Really? Uh, me too! Those are...both...really good movies, you know?"

"Totally!" He's grinning now too, he can't help it. He's so excited for Robbie he might explode. This is the most alive he's felt in weeks!

"Not Rob, though, she loves Fast Times, but not so much The Outsiders. She can be, uh. Pretty nervous, you know? To talk about her taste in movies. I think she might be worried you don't like Fast Times as much as she does, but I know she really wants to, uh, watch it with you. So you might have to be the one to, you know, tell her how much you like it, and maybe ask her to watch it together?"

He's getting lost in the metaphor here. That's clear enough, right? Robbie isn't going to believe him about Vickie liking boobies unless she walks up to her and tells her "I like women, go out with me," in very small words, so he really hopes he got the message across. He needs Vickie to take the wheel on this.

Luckily Vickie is nodding enthusiastically. "For sure! I can do that!" She's halfway back to the house, almost tripping over her feet, before she looks back at him sheepishly.

"Oh no, I'm sorry, that was so rude of me, I just got so excited and I wanted to-"

"Hey, no worries, that was the goal, right? This is what I was hoping for when I came out here to talk to you. She, uh..." He shouldn't. He should stick to the code, just in case, he should be careful, it's Robbie's life on the line here.

But it's also her happiness.

"She didn't believe me. About the Fast Times thing. And then we ran into you at The War Zone, and she was totally convinced I was wrong, but I knew I had to ask. Just in case. I just really want her to be happy, you know?" There. He hasn't actually said the words. If it goes sideways, they still have plausible deniability.

And then, well. There's always Plan B. He doesn't exactly want to burn Vickie's house down, but he will. For Robin, he'll do anything.

Vickie is smiling softly at him. She really is sweet, she and Bobbie are gonna be so cute together. He can't wait to tease them into oblivion.

"I'm glad she has a friend like you, Steve."

He scrubs a hand across the back of his neck, feeling weirdly self-conscious. "Yeah, well, you know. You've got a friend like me, now, too, right?"

There's that bright smile again. "Right!"

"Alright, go on. Go get your girl."

Good lord, redheads sure can blush, huh?

He waits a couple of minutes before heading back in himself, enjoying the night air. It's not quite the height of summer yet, so the evenings aren't as muggy as they'll be in a month or so. For the first time since he crawled out of that gate with Eddie lashed to his back with the remains of the rope ladder he cut to protect Dustin, he's feeling the breeze on his skin without feeling like he's wrapped in plastic, like there's a wall around him, keeping from being part of the world. He wants to savor it, in case it goes away again.

When he does make his way back in, he almost trips over Robin, who's grabbing what should probably be her last drink. At least it's just a beer this time, if it was more of that awful concoction from earlier he'd probably take it away from her, pouting be damned. They could have flambéed Vecna with that shit, nobody should be putting it in their bodies.

Her face lights up when she notices him, and she flings herself into his arms.

"Oof, shit, Buckley, doing ok there? You having fun?"

"Sooooo much fun, Stevie!" She nuzzles her face into the crook of his shoulder. Yeah, if she's this cuddly in public, this should definitely be her last drink, especially if Vickie wants to make any kind of move tonight. She's not usually this touchy outside of the really bad nightmare nights. "Missed you though. Where'd you go? My bubba disappeared."

"Aw, Bobs, I was just outside getting some air, I promise. I didn't go anywhere."

She shakes her head stubbornly, her nose dragging along his collarbone. "Noooo, you left. Not now, before. After. In the hospital. We all came back but you left. You went inside your big stupid fluffy head and you don't come out anymore. I miss you."

It's a good thing Robin's face is still hidden in his shoulder, because he can't quite keep his expression from crumpling. He hasn't meant to hurt her, he hasn't meant to hurt anyone, he swears. He's trying, he wants to come back, wants to be normal again, he just...he feels like part of him is still stuck at the bottom of Lover's Lake, watching everyone above him on the surface moving on and living life, but not able to reach them.

He holds her tighter to his chest, petting her hair. It's a mess, like when she first wakes up in the morning. Maybe she fell off the couch or something while he was outside.

"I'm sorry, Bobbin-bird. I didn't mean to go away. I'm working on it, ok? I promise," he murmurs reassurances into her hair, trying to erase the sadness he can hear in her slurred words. He's shit at talking about feelings, especially his own, but not with Robin. Never with Robin. Saying true things to Robin isn't any harder than thinking them to himself, and honestly that's basically the same thing. They pretty much only have the one brain between them.

She pulls back, studying his face closely with bleary eyes, squeezing his cheeks between her hands. "Promise?"

"I promise, Bobbie." He tries to project as much sincerity as he can muster. She's edging past tipsy, but not actually drunk yet, so she should remember this moment just fine tomorrow, and he won't have to do it again.

Who he is kidding? They're definitely having this conversation again tomorrow. Maybe he can distract her with teasing about Vickie. Where did she go, anyway?

Robin grins, apparently satisfied for now. "Good!" She smacks a kiss to his forehead and finally lets go of his face. Thank god. He loves her, more than anything in the world, but she's a goddamned sweaty drunk.

Before she can say anything else, a redheaded streak comes stumbling into the kitchen.

"There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you!" Vickie leans on the kitchen counter, trying to catch her breath.

Steve looks to Robin to see how she'll respond, and, oh. Well, shit. Robin is...frozen, apparently. She's very obviously focused on Vickie, which is good, because otherwise Steve would be having trouble with flashing back to Nancy's thousand-yard stare in the Upside Down, or the whites of Max's eyes, but the part of her brain that lets her, you know, say and do things, appears to have shut down.

Looks like it's Steve's turn with the communal brain, lucky him. Time to step in and save this, if he can.

"Vickie! Hi, you know, I was just wondering where you ran off to? I was about to tell Robin to track you down, to talk about that movie we talked about earlier, but it looks like you found us instead!" He jams an elbow into Robin's side as subtly as he can, but she still doesn't move.

Vickie is looking between them, still breathing a little heavy. "Yeah, I went looking for you as soon as I came back in, but Gareth said-" Gareth! That was it! "-you went to the bathroom, and did you know there are six bathrooms in this house? Who needs that many bathrooms? I think Angela only has one sibling, why would anyone need six bathrooms for four people? That's so crazy! Anyway, I'm glad I found you, Robin. I'm, uh, getting a little overwhelmed with all the people out here, so I was hoping you might want to find a room that's maybe a little quieter, so we can talk a bit? Just the two of us?" Damn, this girl's got guts. Steve likes her.

Robin continues to stand in front of the fridge like the world's prettiest scarecrow. Come on, babygirl, you can do this! He elbows her again.

"Vickie! Hi! Steve, Vickie's here! Hi!" Steve and Vickie both startle a little because, wow, ok, volume, Buckley, damn. Still. Progress.

"Sure is, babe. Tell you what, why don't I take this-" he plucks the unopened beer out of her slack hand, "-and you and Vickie can go sit down somewhere quiet and talk about movies, huh?"

Robin blinks at him owlishly. "Movies?"

He's about to make another veiled reference to the boobies conversation when Vickie blows all of her air out of her nose and stomps one foot like that one girl in the Chocolate Factory movie who reminds him of his cousin Shauna.

"I'm sorry, I can't take it! I just spent ten minutes outside talking to Steve in ridiculous codes and another ten minutes running up and down the stairs in this insane house and I'm exhausted. I can't take the metaphors anymore. Sorry, Steve, no offense."

"Hey, none taken. It's pretty exhausting, you're not wrong. I just had to be safe."

She shakes her head. "No, totally, I completely understand. I appreciate it. I'm just secret coded-out tonight, you know? Robin, do you want to go upstairs with me and talk? I have something to ask you and I'd really rather do it in private, I don't really want any of these people listening, you know?" She waves her hand at the open doorway to the living room, which is still packed with people.

Robbie's head has been bouncing back and forth between them like she's watching a tennis match, eyes wide.

"Huh? Me? What?"

Oh geez. She's shorting out.

"Bobbie, look at me." She meets his eye, and he can see the nerves threatening to overwhelm her. "Trust me?"

She nods. "Uh huh. 'Course, bubba."

Well that warms him right up, but it's not about him right now. "Good. Go with Vickie, babe. It'll be good, I promise." He hopes he can promise that, at least. He's pretty sure he can. And if it goes bad, they always have Plan B.

Vickie holds out a hand, and Robin stares at her like it might bite her, before taking it gingerly. Both girls immediately burst into bright red blushes, and under any other circumstance he would laugh at them, but this is a delicate moment. They need him to be cool. He can be cool. He can be so goddamn cool.

Vickie leads Robin out of the room and towards the stairs, both of them still blushing like crazy and refusing to meet each other's eyes, and Steve can finally let out the breath he's been holding in a whoosh and slump back against the counter. He snags a bottle opener off the fridge- neat, it's got a magnet on it!- and pops the top on the beer he stole off Robbie.

“Well I hate to break this to you, King Steve, but she’s definitely about to steal your girl.”

Steve freezes with the bottle at his lips.

He sets the beer down on the counter and very carefully turns around. Munson is alone, thank fuck. This is fixable. He can deal with a single person. If it had been a crowd, or fuck, god forbid, someone like Gareth, who hates him, and might try and use this? Hurt Robbie to hurt him? Well, he's got his nailbat in the trunk, and he isn't afraid to use it, but he doesn't think Hopper would be thrilled to have to bail him out of jail.

"Whatever you think you heard, Munson, if Robbie gets hurt, it won't matter that you're one of us now. I'll finish what those bats started. I won't be happy about it, because you're a pretty cool dude and I like hanging out with you, but I'll do it for her if you make me." He makes sure his voice is low and even, and he meets Eddie's eyes head on. He wants to be very clear, this is not a joke. He will defend her if he has to.

He doesn't think he'll have to, not from Munson, but he isn't 100% sure, and he's taken enough risks with Robbie's safety tonight. He doesn't trust his luck enough to count on it working out a second time in less than an hour.

Munson's eyes go wide with shock- he clearly wasn't expecting Steve to meet him with quite that much aggression. He puts his hands up in surrender and leans back away from Steve.

Steve fights not to be distracted by the way his torso curves, graceful in a way he has no right to be with his wounds still scabbing over. Not the moment, Steve. Get it together, for fuck's sake.

"Hey, whoa, easy big guy. We're cool, man. Stand down."

There's a tense moment where they just...stand there, sizing each other up, unsure where to go from here.

Eddie tugs a lock of hair in front of his face, nibbling on it nervously. It's cuter than it has any right to be, honestly.

"I didn't- uh. Fuck, man. Please tell me I didn't just tip you off to flirting you didn't notice. It would suck so, so bad if I exposed Birdie without her knowing."

Steve takes a moment to consider this, frankly absurd, situation. He holds up a finger for Eddie to wait a minute, and checks both ways down the hallway outside before closing the kitchen door and leaning back against it to keep it shut. At least now it'll definitely just be the two of them, which is one more than should be having this conversation, but he doesn't see a way out of it, so this will have to do.

When he turns back to Eddie, he looks even more nervous than before.

"I'm perfectly aware of the flirting, considering I'm the one who went out of my way to set them up tonight. You didn't out anyone, and I should have been the one to make sure the door was closed before I got them in a room together, so it's not your fault for finding out. You understand you can't say anything to anyone, ever, though, right?"

Because he's apparently doomed to be accosted with eyebrow raises from everyone around him anytime he says anything at all until he dies, Eddie's are lost somewhere under his bangs. He looks...impressed. Huh, that's kind of nice. Steve resists the urge to preen.

"'Course, man, I'm well-versed in the code of silence." Something in his face softens, and Steve can feel the sincerity in his next words. "Birdie's a friend, and Finnegan seems like a real sweetie, I wouldn't ever want to hurt them like that. Cross my heart." He does, in fact, draw a cross on his chest with one long, ringed finger. What a dork, holy shit. Steve wants to put that finger in his mouth.

"I have to admit, I didn't expect you to be so cool with something like that. In general, but also especially since you and Buckley are, y'know." He waves his hand expansively around his head, the kitchen lights glinting off his rings, and Steve has to fight the urge to bat at it like a cat with a laser pointer. Jesus Christ, Harrington, focus. The man just called you a homophobe, get your shit together.

He decides, very magnanimously, he thinks, to ignore the homophobe bit, honing in on the rest. "Me and her are...what, exactly?"

"I mean, aren't you guys like, a thing?" Oh Jesus fuck. Not again.

"Ugh, no, where the hell do people keep getting that? Robin and I are just friends, ok? Platonic soulmates. Capital P!" He throws his hands in the air in frustration.

"-capital P," Eddie choruses with him, "I know, I know, I just, shit, man, I dunno, I figured you were..."

"Were what?"

"...Lying? Shit, that sounds worse out loud, sorry! I just mean, because, you know, Henderson keeps saying-"

"Oh, well if Henderson says it, it must be true," Steve rolls his eyes.

"Well fuck me for trusting the kid who calls you his best friend, I guess!"

They glare at each other across the room for a minute, before the ridiculousness of this moment catches up to Steve and he drops his chin to his chest, huffing a laugh.

Eddie looks confused, and still nervous, and a little incredulous. Also a lot adorable, but that doesn't feel relevant. "Ok, I'm so lost, man. I just came in here for a beer, and this has been an emotional rollercoaster I was unprepared for."

Yeah, that about sums it up.

He hasn't spent much time with Eddie since he woke up, spending those weeks juggling babysitting duties and his own injuries and helping with the relief effort and sitting vigil at Max's side. He popped in on Eddie when he was in the building for Max, but the Munson room always had someone in it- Wayne, or Dustin, or Mike, or one of the Corroded Coffin guys- and Steve always felt a bit like an intruder. So he hasn't had a chance to feel out the suspicions he formed during that surreal week when everything was still in the process of exploding, and honestly he's been feeling a little too distant to work up the energy to bother. Robin's bugged him about it once or twice since March, but he shrugged her off each time and she hasn't brought it up in a while.

Ah, what the hell. It's already been such a weird night, and Steve is honestly feeling better than he has in weeks, and he wants to ride this high wherever it'll take him.

Emotional rollercoaster, huh? Well, Steve can make that worse.

At least Eddie hasn't seemed homophobic, kind of the opposite, actually. That's a good sign if Steve's ever seen one.

He pushes off the door, stalking toward Eddie with intent and digging deep inside himself for whatever remains of the person he used to be, who could drop panties with a single look. Eddie's eyes go very round, and he stumbles back a little into the counter.

"You know, Munson, I've had a question I've been meaning to ask you for a while now. Haven't found a good moment."

"Oh yeah?" Eddie's voice comes out in what can only be called a squeak, and Steve feels powerful. That rush of confidence he hasn't felt since BN (Before Nancy) fills his chest, and he can feel his grin turn sharp. "Ho- uh." Eddie clears his throat. "How long's a while?"

Steve purses his lips, relishing the way Eddie's eyes drop down like he can't help it and his cheeks flush, and pretends to consider the question. "Oh, since Skull Rock, probably."

"O-oh? That's. Um. That is a long time." He's still staring at Steve's lips. Good. "Well, shoot, Stevie-boy. Ask away."

Steve lets his smile spread across his face slowly, keeping Eddie's eyes where he wants them. Yeah, he's still got it. Like riding a bike.

"Do you wear this bandana on purpose, or is it just a fashion statement?"

Eddie's eyes snap up to meet his own, shocked.

"Wh-what? Bandana? I. Um. What?"

"Are you flagging, Eddie?" Steve doesn't back up, toe to toe with Eddie as he reaches out and tugs lightly on the hanky trailing out of his back pocket, as always.

He may not have had the energy to talk to Eddie about it yet, but his curiosity did get the better of him after the "earthquakes," and he did dig out that zine where he originally learned about the code. He knows what a black hanky in the back left pocket means now. It's...a little daunting, but not a turn-off. Not at all. Kind of the other thing.

God he hopes Eddie knows what it means.

Eddie seems floored by this line of questioning. He's bright red and sputtering, his mouth opening and closing without saying anything. Steve lets himself stare. This'll go however it goes, but he's not ashamed. He's no more embarrassed to want Eddie than he would be to want a girl, which is to say, not at all.

"I- you- what? What? You- you know what flagging is?" He hisses the end of the sentence in a harsh whisper, so much like Robin did when he first told her about his crush that he can't stop himself from giggling.

Wrong move, since Eddie clearly takes this personally, and his expression shutters closed. Whoops.

"Hey, hey, no no no, none of that, hey. I'm sorry, I wasn't laughing at you, I swear."

"Right, sure, I believe that, considering there's nothing goddamn else to laugh at in this kitchen, Harrington." Eddie is glaring at the floor, arms crossed defensively across his chest.

Alright, maybe he gets what Vickie was saying earlier. Fuck the codes, fuck the metaphors. He can take Eddie in a fight if he has to. He's a simple guy, ok? He just wants to use his goddamn words.

Robin would be so proud.

He goes slowly, telegraphing every move so Eddie can stop him if he wants. He reaches for his hands where they're tucked into his elbows, gently easing them out until they're clasped between them.

He takes the opportunity to finally feel those rings he's fantasized about, seeing if they're as cool as they look. They aren't, they're warm from Eddie's skin. He spins one of them around Eddie's finger with his thumb, transfixed.

Eddie still looks tense, but now instead of hurt and distrust on his face, he looks like Steve hit in him in the head with something heavy. His pretty eyes are so big, blown completely black as he stares at their joined hands.

"I'm sorry I laughed. I was remembering the first time I told Robin I had a crush on you," Eddie's head snaps up again, "and she sounded exactly like you did just now, with that angry whisper voice. It made me laugh, that you guys are so alike. It makes sense, I guess. She's my favorite person, so of course I'd like you, when you're like. Not the same, I guess, but kinda a similar flavor of weird. She says I have a thing for nerds, y'know?"

Eddie blinks at him for a minute, apparently speechless. Some nerves start to creep back in, since the brief miscommunication scare burned out most of that white hot King Steve confidence in his chest. They must show on his face, because Eddie visibly shakes himself and finally opens his mouth.

"You have a crush on me?"

"Yeah, man, since the Upside Down, pretty much. The first time."

"Don't call me man when you're telling me you have a crush on me!"

Steve has to laugh at the comically offended look on Eddie's face. "Sorry. Do you prefer Eds? Baby? Big Boy?"

Eddie is so red Steve is surprised his face isn't steaming. He yanks one hand out of Steve's grip to smack him in the chest. Steve laughs and lets him, dropping their still-joined hands down between them and tangling their fingers.

"You're a fucking dick, Stevie. Can't believe I like you."

Steve grins at him, big and hopeful. "Yeah? You like me, Munson?"

Eddie shoves at him with a groan, but doesn't let go of his hand. "Pretty sure everyone in this town likes you, King Steve. It's like a rite of passage, or something."

Steve feels like he could walk on air, he isn't even going to get fussy about the King Steve thing. They can talk about that later. Eddie likes him! Eddie has a crush on him! He could fight a demogorgon with his bare hands right now, that's how powerful he feels.

Eddie gets quiet after a second, tugging a curl in front of his mouth again. Seems like a nervous tick, maybe. Steve notes that for later. He may not be much of a reader, but he's going to learn to read Eddie Munson like a book if it's the last thing he does.

"I thought, um. I kinda...hn. Ugh."

"Gonna need more than that, baby, I'm not fluent in Munson yet." That glow in his chest picks up a little again at the way Eddie flushes so pink and pretty at the petname.

"I thought you were straight." It comes out all in a rush, the words mumbled and slurred together through his hair.

Finally, it's Steve's turn to raise an eyebrow. Take that, universe! "You meet a lot of straight guys who know what the Hanky Code is?"

Eddie shakes his head in wonderment. "Still can't believe The Steve Harrington knows what flagging is."

He's about to reply when the kitchen door flies open with a bang that sends the boys leaping backwards away from each other. Steve finds himself braced between Eddie and the door, brandishing the bottle opener from the fridge in front of him like a knife. He doesn't even remember grabbing it.

Robin is standing in the doorway, eyes wild and hair frizzing out around her head in a way she would despise if she was sober and not obviously preoccupied with something else.

"Jesus, Robs, you about gave me a heart attack, what the hell?"

"Sorry bubba, not important right now!"

He rolls his eyes. Of course not. Just his trauma that could have made him stab her if he hadn't caught himself, nothing major. This girl, he swears.

"Dingus! Focus!"

"Focus on what, Bobs?"

"She wants to kiss me, Steve!"

His eyes go wide. Thank fuck the door bounced off the wall and swung back shut behind her. That's not something to shout to a party full of gossipy strangers.

Still. This is a big moment! "Bobbie! What'd I tell you, huh?" He picks her up around the middle, swinging her around while she cackles wildly and bats at his shoulders.

"Put me down, you lunatic! Steven Elizabeth, you put me down right now, or I swear I'll never speak to you again!" She's laughing too hard for him to take her seriously, though.

He does take pity on her and set her back on her feet, stealing one more tight hug. He's so happy for her he could scream. This night has turned out better than he could have imagined.

"Tell me everything! What happened! What did she say? What did you say? How was the kiss?"

"Well we didn't actually kiss yet, exactly."

"Wait, then how do you know she wants to kiss you?"

"She told me! She said she thinks I'm really pretty and funny and smart and she's like you! She likes both, and she says her and Dan are done, like for real for real all the way done, and she held my hand, Steve! And she wants to go on a date! And she said she wanted to kiss me!"

"That's awesome! I'm so happy for you, Bobs. What did you say when she said she wanted to kiss you?"

"I came down to tell you about it, obviously."

Oh, Bobbie, what the fuck. "Robin James Buckley. Do not tell me that a pretty girl tried to kiss you and you ran away and left her upstairs!"

The situation finally seems to register, and Robbie's hands go flailing around her face the way they do when she's overwhelmed.

"Oh no! Steve! Oh no!"

"Go, you insane person! Go back upstairs right now and kiss her this minute! Go!"

He physically herds her to the door, at which point she finally notices Eddie, who has been standing in the corner where Steve shoved him behind him when the door crashed open, watching them like he's wishing he had popcorn.

Fuck. Steve was so excited for Robbie he totally forgot he was here.

Robin's body goes rigid and all the color drains out of her face all at once.

Steve grabs her by the shoulders. "Hey, Bobbin, eyes on me, ok? Eyes on me." She finally drags her eyes away from where she's been staring at Eddie in horror, and Steve's heart breaks at the fear on her face. "It's ok, Bobbie, I swear to god it's ok. I was right, alright? I was right about him, we were talking before you came in. He's safe, I swear. We're safe, Bobbie, I promise I'll keep you safe."

"I promise I won't say a word, Birdie. Friends of Dorothy gotta stick together, right?" Eddie pipes up from the corner, stepping forward slowly and carefully, hands out front like he's approaching a skittish animal.

"You're- you're like u- me?" Oh, he loves her so much. Still protecting him, just in case.

"It's ok Bobs, I told him about me. I was about to get a kiss of my own before you came in, I think, actually."

Eddie jumps on the opportunity to cut the tension, ever the showman. Steve likes him so goddamn much. He grins impishly at Steve, that wide pretty mouth stretching out until those dimples Steve can't wait to kiss appear on his cheeks.

"Oh, you were, were you? Pretty presumptuous, Stevie-boy. Who says I kiss on the first date? Maybe I'm not that kind of boy."

"Oh, wow, ok, this is gonna be a lot to deal with, huh? Alright, I'm glad I'm not getting hate-crimed, and I'm glad you're finally doing something about your big gay crush, Dingus, but if you'll excuse me, I have a girl to kiss, and also I want to be far away from," she waves a hand between them, "whatever this is. Good luck boys, don't kiss in unlocked rooms! Vickie says she can give me a ride home, so I'll call you in the morning, bubba. Love you bye!"

She's out of the room like a shot, hopefully back up to Vickie, who he hopes is prepared to get used to this kind of thing. There are so many things to love about Robin Buckley, and honestly, this is one of them, but he can see why she might be an acquired taste. He thinks anyone who doesn't acquire that taste is a moron and not worth knowing, but he can see how those people might exist.

"Love you too, Robs!" he calls down the hallway, closing the door behind her and leaning back against it. It's not a lock, but as long as he doesn't move, it'll do. And given that Eddie appears to have found his confidence and is leaning over him, bracing his arms on either side of Steve's head, he doesn't think he'll have to move any time soon.

Unless someone needs the kitchen, but they've been doing just fine so far, so they can burn that bridge when they come to it, or whatever people say.

He reaches down to toy with Eddie's belt loops, tugging him close and grinning up at him through his eyelashes, privately thrilled at the novelty of being shorter than his partner for once. Granted, he's slumped down the door a little, but still. It's nice. He can see why girls like it.

Eddie comes closer easily, resting their foreheads together. He reaches down to fiddle with a lock of Steve's hair and Steve feels like leaning into it like a cat getting its ears rubbed.

Lot of cat feelings tonight. He's not sure what to do with that.

"So.”

“So.”

“Steven Elizabeth, huh?"

Steve can't help but laugh, the tension broken once more. "Yeah, Rob's idea. We switched. Steven Elizabeth and Robin James. So we always have a piece of each other."

"Jesus H Christ, you guys are fucking adorable. This shit is why everyone thinks you're dating, though, you know that, right?"

"Ugh, yeah, I know. I don't actually mind, I mean, I should be so lucky, you know? And she's like. My person. My most important person. And we're probably gonna get married someday just so we can be each other's next of kin, and because it's not like she could marry whoever she ends up with anyway, or me if I end up with a guy, so it's like, why not, you know? I'd be building my life around her anyway, might as well make it legal.

"It's mostly just annoying when our friends don't believe us, because like, we're honest with you guys. Maybe not all of it, like Robbie isn't ready to be out and that's fine and she shouldn't have to be, but it kinda sucks that, like, Dustin thinks I would lie to him, you know? Because I wouldn't. Not about something real. Not when it matters. But he doesn't believe me, and that just. I dunno, man."

"It hurts."

"Yeah."

"I get that. You've been through a lot for these kids, you've put yourself on the line for them, you've given up a lot for them, and when they don't believe you about something like this, it feels like they're saying they don't trust you. Of course that hurts."

Steve swallows down the tears that want to fall. Now isn't the time for vulnerability like that, not in a stranger's crowded house. Still.

"How'd you do that?"

"Do what, sweetheart?" Oh, sweetheart does something to him. If this is how Eddie felt when he called him baby earlier, the blush makes more sense.

"Figure out exactly what I'm trying to say, and make it make sense. Usually only Robbie can do that."

"I dunno, maybe Birdie and me share a brain. Or maybe you and I just make sense to each other."

Steve flattens a palm against Eddie's chest, feeling the soothing thump beneath his hand. He did that. He put his hands on Eddie's chest and his mouth on Eddie's mouth and broke Eddie's ribs and didn't stop until that rhythm started up again. And now Eddie's here, and Eddie's heart is still beating, and Eddie hears him when he talks, and Eddie is looking at his lips again, and Steve suddenly can't go another second without kissing him.

He trails his hand up Eddie's chest, over his neck, savoring the way his breath hitches and the pulse under his palm speeds up. He keeps going, pushing his fingers into that thick riot of curls, already making mental notes of the products he's going to buy for Eddie because Jesus Christ, they're dry.

He tugs, and again, Eddie comes easy. It's not an earth-shattering kiss. There's no tongue, and their noses are a little smushed, and the angle is a little off, and he's kissed enough people that he can tell Eddie probably hasn't, but none of that matters.

He told Robin, back in that field, that he was holding off feelings he knew he would have for Eddie when all was said and done. He knows now he was right, and he's done holding them off. Has been done for a while, maybe.

He doesn't know where this is going, or what Eddie wants, or how they'll manage being two guys in a town like Hawkins, or what their friends will think. If they'll even tell their friends. What he does know is that he wants to find out the answers to all of those, and he wants to find them out with Eddie, and he wants to keep kissing Eddie, and also that he can't keep kissing Eddie here.

He pulls back, pecking that dimple finally, partly to reassure Eddie that he isn't running away and partly because he's wanted to for weeks, and pulls the kitchen door open, checking that the coast is clear before grabbing Eddie's hand and dragging him towards the front door.

"Where we going, Stevie?"

"You drove here, right?"

"Sure did. You want a ride somewhere? I thought you drove Birdie."

"I did, but you've got your van, don't you? Your van with doors that lock and a big open back seat?"

Eddie's eyes go wide, and he flails a little, just like Robin. It makes Steve smile.

"Yep! Yes, yeah, hell yeah, I do have my van, my van with those things, let's go! Chop chop, time's a-wasting! Your chariot awaits!" And he's off, doing that dorky little run for the driveway.

Steve grins, and puts his hands in his pockets, and follows his boy out into the night.

[zerokrox-blog]

@steddieas-shegoes @newgrangespirals  

I hope this is too your liking! I tried to make it more angry but I don’t think I quite got it. But anyway, I tried to make it as good as I could. (I literally rewrote this like 5-6 times and it still feels..not angry enough) Based on this post  The silence around the table was deafening as Murray finished talking. The man looked so proud of himself, telling all and sundry about how he had gotten Nancy and Jonathan together. Nobody could move and no one breathed. Nancy and Jonathan had gone pale, and she kept looking at Steve who had gone so still and silent, hand outstretched for the mashed potatoes in front of him. His face had a weird look as if mentally calculating something and suddenly it changed to one of furious understanding and anguish that made her sit still. 

Then in the silence, seemingly not realizing the can of worms he had just opened, Murray turned to Steve and Eddie, “and you know you two are cute. But the pining is getting annoying, like you could take us all out of the misery by dating or even just something! Just ask-” “How fucking dare you?” Steve’s voice was cold and low with barely suppressed rage. He straightened up glaring at Murray who finally took in the faces around him. Jonathan and Nancy’s white faces, the pure shock on Joyce and Hopper’s faces. Robin, and the kids looking uncomfortable. Eddie looked terrified. Wayne was stiff and furious. 

“C’mon man, you can’t be serious?” Murray was shocked. “There is nothing wrong with me trying to get you together man! Listen, I helped get Jonathan and Nancy together as well as Hopper and Joyce. They are thriving-” 

Steve held up his hand voice hardening further, “what is your problem? I was with Nancy at that time which you knew about and you facilitated her cheating on me and you think I should be happy? You think I should be grateful? Now to make matters worse you are so casual about telling people about Eddie and I without knowing if these people are safe? Are you crazy? What is your problem?”

 Steve stood up, anger pouring off of him. Before Murray could say another word, Steve continued to rant, “you come here acting like some god, thinking that we all owe you shit when you barely know the people here and continue to treat us like little lab rats to get your fix! Stop trying to get people together, you're not a matchmaker! Nor are you in a relationship yourself! You barely know anything aside from cooking and maybe a few conspiracies! And you definitely don't know anyone here aside from Hop and Joyce! That isn’t enough people to be making the assumptions you’ve made. Most importantly, you are sitting here proudly, PROUDLY telling people that you helped Nancy and Jonathan get together KNOWING she was together with me! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?” Steve started to walk away, but he paused just past Murray, he turned back and looked directly at him, “you don’t know me nor do you know Eddie. You don’t know him, who gave the right to demand he dance to your tune like a monkey? What if he isn’t gay? What if he actually hated me? What if he is dating someone else? Who are you to come here and force him to come out like that with no warning? Who are you to make him feel unsafe around the only people who understand him and what he went through over spring break? WHO ARE YOU TO TELL HIM IT’S OK TO CHEAT JUST BECAUSE YOU GET OFF ON HURTING TEENAGERS YOU BARELY KNOW? You disgust me.” Steve glared at Murray and snorted when the man didn’t say anything, seemingly finally realizing what he had done. “Yeah that is what I thought. I hope you know that I will not forgive you for endorsing Nancy cheating on me. I don’t forgive you for taking away my voice in trying to set Eddie and I up and telling people that he is gay without his permission. Fuck you Murray, go to hell.” He started walking away, and when Nancy reached out for him he jerked himself away. “You stay away from me. You and Jonathan stay the fuck away from me. I trusted you both and I shouldn’t have. I never told anyone half of the shit you both did to me. Stay away from me.”

Nancy retracted her hand feeling hurt. 

Eddie stood up, after the shock wore off and looked coldly at Murray, he said, “Aside from literally telling everyone to give you a pat on the back for helping Nancy cheat on Steve, and making me very uncomfortable by outing me like that, I hope you will not do that to anyone else, do you understand me? He waited until he got a nod from Murray, he looked at all of the people around the table, his eyes landed squarely back on Murray and stated firmly, “I don’t care one way or the other at this point, but Steve and I have been together for several months now. We don’t and never will need you to put us together. If you have any problems with that, take it up with someone who cares.” 

Murray looked pleased, “see? You two-”

Eddie gave him a sharp look. He moved after Steve who had left, tears in his eyes that nobody could see as he had entirely turned away from the table. 

Eddie left the Hopper-Byers backyard and went back to the Munson’s new house. Steve beat Eddie there by several minutes and when Eddie saw him his heart cracked. 

Steve was curled up on his bed, face buried in their pillows, soft sobs escaping him. 

“Oh sweetheart, I am here baby.” Eddie cooed softly, slipping out of his clothes before crawling into the bed and curling around Steve. 

Steve cried softly into the pillows not moving closer to Eddie the way he normally would. Eddie just held him and hummed softly into his hair, fingers slowly moving up and down his sides. 

It took Steve some time to calm down, and when he did he shifted around in Eddie’s arms and caught the look on his face. “Am I bad? Am I not enough for anyone? Is that why everyone leaves or hurts me? Am I not worthy of love and a healthy relationship?” he whispered, and Eddie squeezed him closer. 

“No babylove. You are worthy of love and gentleness, you are enough honey boy.” he kept his tone warm and soft, gently stroking Steve’s hair. 

Steve sucked in a deep breath, and once he calmed down entirely, he mumbled, “I don’t want to see Nancy or Jonathan for a while. I am so angry at them. And I don’t quite know what to make of this situation. Nancy knew how I felt about cheating because I told her about my parents. And she fucking cheated on me!” 

Eddie nodded and waited, Steve finally looked at him, and gave him a small smile. “I am sorry we were outed like that. I really-” 

“Baby boy, I promise you it’s not your fault, ok? You don’t owe me an apology. It’s not your fault and you don’t apologize for something that someone else’s shitty behavior ok? We can stay away from Nancy and Jonathan until you feel comfortable seeing them again, OK?” 

Steve nodded, feeling safe and secure here in Eddie’s arms. Here he was safe, he could be himself around Eddie, especially in his arms.

[baddreamsandoldbones]

Hellcheer Week Day 3 - Cursed

@hellcheerweek I reference this particular event in one of my previous Buffy oneshots. I didn't get time to write the whole thing but maybe I can finish it after the event.

“Halloween,” Robin says with relish, as they haul boxes. Although some are managing easier than others - Robin can carry three boxes of books with ease and Chrissy feels like her arms are about to drop off. “My night off.”

“Why is that again?” Eddie asks, saving Chrissy from having to do it. She doesn’t look up, even though she can almost feel the heat of his body from where their elbows are mere inches from each other. 

She hadn’t expected this to happen when Eddie joined their group. 

“The vamps think it’s too commercial,” Steve says, passing by. “Like it’s a cliche if they roam the streets when everyone is out in costume.”

“Huh,” Eddie says, resting a crystal ball in the palm of his hand. “You’d have thought it would be easier to sneak around while everyone else is dressed up.” Robin just shrugs. 

“Who cares why they do it, I just know that I get to relax at home and watch Nightmare on Elm Street,” she says and rips through a cardboard lid to peer inside. “Uh…Murray, where do you want the assortment of chicken feet?” 

“Why exactly are we sorting all of this junk?” Steve asks, and gets swatted around the head for his trouble. 

“A fellow watcher retired and sent me all of his resources,” Murray says, as though he hadn’t just removed a few of Steve’s brain cells with a copy of Common Curses. “He thought I might have a use for them living on the Hellmouth.”

“Okay, but why send them to the school library?” Jonathan asks, sitting on one of the stairs as he sorts through yet another box. “Literally anyone could walk in and see…” He pulls what looks like a shrunken head out of the box with an obvious look of disgust. “Well, they might have some questions.”

“I wasn’t about to have them delivered to my house,” Murray says, pushing Chrissy aside so he can take a look at the contents of her box. “My neighbors are notoriously nosy and I don’t think I should leave ancient spell books and relics out on my porch all day.”

“Are any of them likely to come alive?” Eddie asks with interest, tossing the crystal ball from one hand to another. 

“No, but if that ball gets too hot in the sun it will set my house on fire,” Murray says pointedly and snatches it right out of Eddie’s hands. “Spell books to my private collection in the back, everything else needs to be loaded into my car.”

“Some of these books look like they’re bound in skin,” Steve says doubtfully and Murray groans. 

“It’s Halloween,” he says, gesturing to the orange and black sign above the counter, like they could miss it. Murray makes a minimal effort to decorate the library for the holiday - it’s not Chrissy’s favorite event but even she finds the skeleton wearing a paper hat a little sad. “Don’t you people have plans?”

“Taking my brother trick or treating,” Jonathan says, and judging by his expression, his box contains more shrunken heads. 

“Band practice,” Eddie says. 

“Eating and scary films!” Robin chimes in, lifting the last few boxes over her shoulder to bring them down to the front desk like they weigh nothing at all. 

“Tina’s having a party,” Steve says, throwing himself down into a chair. But much like Chrissy, he doesn’t look to be racing out of the door. It’s been getting harder these days to care - about parties, about homecoming, about all of it. She knows what’s out there now. She’d much rather be with these people, watching Jonathan make faces and Robin be giddy about her night off. 

“Great,” Murray says weakly as Robin puts the last few boxes down. Eddie tugs the nearest one open and lets out a shout of delight. 

“Hey, is this a Viking drinking horn?” 

“Yes, and it’s old,” Murray says, looking disgruntled. “Box, car, now.”

But Eddie only pretends to put it away, waiting until Murray’s back is turned before he whisks it out again. 

“Isn’t it cool?” he says, his eyes bright. Chrissy risks a peek while he’s enraptured, watching his long fingers turn the horn around to admire it. “Look at these markings.”

“It’s nice,” Chrissy says, because she doesn’t really see the appeal. It has elaborate etchings and even she can recognise the symbols near the mouth as runes. “What’s it for?” 

“They used to drink out of these,” Eddie says, still admiring it. “This one looks like it was made out of a real horn…” Chrissy makes a face out of sight of Eddie’s eyeline. 

“Man,” Eddie says ruefully, holding the horn up to the light. For a second the runes look unusually bright, gleaming against the library’s overhead lighting. “If only Murray would let me have it.”

“What would you use it for?” Chrissy asks and he flashes her a grin. 

“Drink Dr Pepper out of it?” he jokes, pretending to raise the horn to his lips. “Would give my D&D sessions a real air of drama.”

“You play while sitting on a throne,” Chrissy says, without thinking. “Don’t they have enough drama already?” Eddie pauses, lowering the horn. 

“How do you know that?” he asks and Chrissy nearly lets the large chunk of amethyst slip from her fingers. Damn. 

She’s kept her crush on Eddie pretty cool so far. Before he was just…Eddie. He was in the cafeteria, in the back of some of her classes, a vague memory from a middle school talent show. It was easy to keep at a distance. 

And then he joined their party and it all got so much harder. Suddenly she’s very aware of him in a way that she hadn’t been before, and she’s picked up a few details about him that she probably shouldn’t know. 

“I’ve been downstairs,” Chrissy fibs, picking up another book rather than looking at Eddie. “I’ve seen the drama storerooms, remember?”

“Ah,” Eddie says and puts down the horn. “You know…you’d be very welcome to come see us sometime. I know you don’t play and we don’t exactly get a lot of girls down there but…I’d like to see you.”

It’s not exactly a date invitation. But it sounds like something. She knows how seriously Eddie takes his role as head of the club and Dungeon master. He doesn’t just invite people to watch their campaigns. 

“I’d like that,” she says, heart pounding in her chest. She might be wrong, and he’s just being polite. He might have no feelings for her at all. 

But his pleased smile says something different. 

She picks up a smaller box to put by the door - they’ve borrowed one of the AV club carts to move most of the boxes out to Murray’s car - when Eddie tenses. When she looks at him, his face is almost unrecognizable, frozen into a strange, stiff mask. 

“Hey,” she says, because there’s something not right about that terrible stillness in his face. When he still doesn’t respond, she reaches out and rests her hand on his arm. “You okay?”

Eddie jerks suddenly, all of the tension easing out of his face. But he still looks pale, and probably not too different from how she looks after a vision.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, raising a hand to his head. Chrissy knows that gesture - she uses it every time she’s had a vision and the pounding in her head is worse than she wants to let on. “Fuck. Sorry. I just felt lightheaded for a second.”

“Maybe you should sit down,” Chrissy says anxiously. But he just smiles at her and shakes his head. 

“I’m good,” he says, dropping the horn back into the box. “Probably just need to hit the vending machine. Let me take that. I’ll stop by one the way back from Murray’s car.”

“Are you sure?” Chrissy asks, as he removes the box from her arms and stacks it on top of his own. 

“Promise. Red Bull and a Mars bar will fix it,” he says. Jonathan stops counting heads long enough to make a face. 

“I doubt that would fix anything,” he says bluntly. “Fuck’s sake, Murray, how many fucking shrunken heads are in here?”

“Are they human?” Robin asks curiously, peering over the bannister. Jonathan shakes his head. 

“Mostly birds,” he says ruefully. Eddie nudges Chrissy with his elbow, still balancing both boxes. 

“Bet you never had conversations like this with your other friends,” he says, eyes bright. He loves all this, even with the blood and fear that they live with every day. A Dungeon Master finding out that monsters and magic really exists? He’d almost been unable to resist the chance to touch real spellbooks, watch real magic being cast. Steve had even offered to teach Eddie some basic magic to his complete delight.

“Not even,” Chrissy says and turns to the next box. They’re nearly done and she’s almost upset about it. She much prefers being here, in the light with her friends, breathing in the smell of old books and wood polish, rather than going home. 

“I’ll be back,” Eddie says, and as he turns something strange reflects in his eyes, like headlights catching something in the glare of a beam on the road. The unearthly glow against the brightness before whatever it was scurries back into the undergrowth - certainly not a trait for anything human. 

When Eddie returns he bought a packet of Twizzlers just for her and she forgets all about it.

[starryficsfinishwen]

“C'mon, Punchy! Sit!”

“Commandant,” the man sighs, metallic hand covering his handsome face, “Punchy is not a pet. It does not know any pet commands.”

At the Gray Raven lounge where you were residing for a well-needed break, Lee sits across you, intently watching as you curiously eyed the new, tiny visitor.

A small CUB, about the size of your head. You saw it in action a few times; he may be tiny, but he can morph into a large hand, capable of moving from an interdimensional hole, assisting Lee in his battles. In combat mode, you were certain it was made out of Entropy's hand, as you've held his hand a lot of times before. Punchy's screen reflected his usual expression, stoic and unamused.

“Really?” Your face contorts into a baffled expression, eyebrows knitted together and mouth pouting, “I assumed they did. Bianca's CUB knows a lot of pet commands.”

“Like what?”

“Like 'fetch'!”

You gaze expectantly at the stoic-faced CUB, assuming he'd move and do something. Instead, the screen reflected a big [?]. Pouting once more, you opted to scratch his chin— or whatever the edges of his screen were called.

“You treat it like a pet, Commandant.”

“Well, he's a new addition to the family,” you coped, tenderly caressing Punchy, “isn't that right?”

[¬､¬]

The screen reflected the emotion. Pouting once more, your resolve did not waver. Instead, you were determined to make it work.

“Oh no,” Lee sighs once more, before chuckling as he shook his head, “I shouldn't have it brought here. Asimov insisted-”

“-it's actually a great idea that Asimov brought him here,” you quickly interjected, opting to pat the CUB's head, “while Punchy is connected to you, we can at least learn now how they work! Besides, I have a theory.”

“Do tell.”

You look at Lee, beckoning him with a small gesture on your hand (which Lee thinks is too adorable), asking him to sit next to you. Although Lee had a neutral expression on his face, you looked beside you to see Punchy's screen changed.

[>///<]

Even if just for a flicker of a moment. Aha. You grin sinisterly.

“What's that look on your face, you look like you've thought of something.”

You look back to Lee, smiling genuinely. “Oh, nothing. But I did think of something.”

“What is it?”

Before you said anything, you gently took Punchy and put him on your lap, visible enough for Lee to see his expression. Like a villain, you thought, as you caressed Punchy's surface.

“Does this have something to do with it?”

“...do you remember when Noctis was summoned to Murray's office?”

That caught his attention, his eyes wide open and an eyebrow raised. It may seem that Lee was unamused with whatever was happening with Cerberus and Murray, or even with people in Babylonia, but Lee was one who liked gossip apart from anything else.

“As it turns out, Noctis had to beg in front of Murray so he can be forgiven. Do you know what he did next?”

“What?”

“Noctis had to clean every nook of Cerberus' lounge for weeks!”

A deadpan. But you know it wasn't. No, not when you noticed Punchy's screen light up.

[≧⁠▽⁠≦]

“Commandant, it's not funny,” (said he, even though Punchy's screen didn't change from the expression he had yet), “What does this have to do with-”

“-and how about Kamui, you know? He went back to Asimov to ask him to get another port so he could play, but as it turns out, the only available slot was in his forehead.”

[≧⁠▽⁠≦]

Your grin widens. Ah, the clear path to victory when you notice Lee trying to cover his laughter. You decided to throw in your other cards.

“You know, Lee, I asked about Lucia and Liv about us.”

[☉⁠｡⁠☉!]

The shock is evident also in Lee's face. You carefully say your words.

“They think that both of us are cute together,” you wiggle your eyebrows, “they wanted to know when our wedding is.”

[>///<]

Lee's face is only neutral, apart from the slowly creeping blush on his cheeks. “You do realize that weddings are a bit pricey lately.”

“Mm, yeah, but I think it's nice. I do want to get married one day.”

You lightly pat on Punchy's head, still aware of the expression on his screen. Looking down, on your ringless finger, you somehow envisioned what it would look like, should a ring be placed there. Your heart is seemingly full— a fleeting vision, that one day, you'll get married, and the groom would be...

You looked up. Looking into Lee's curious cerulean eyes, you beam a smile at him. “I hope we can get married someday. I really want to be with you, Lee.”

You don't know about the emote on Punchy's screen, but the blush and answer is already evident on Lee's face. You should be teasing more, as you normally should, but right now, you wanted to savor the moment as he took your hand, him unconsciously rubbing your ring finger.

“It would be nice,” he whispers, “as a way to show union, that is.”

Ah, never in your wildest dreams did you think the answer was already evident.

Your heart is overwhelmed with the answer.

“Kiss me, Lee.”

He does not hesitate. Lee leans forward to close the gap, soft lips eagerly kissing yours. It's soft, it's sweet, it's perfect enough to bridge your overwhelmingly full heart of love, poured over his empty cup. Both of you compliment and fit each other.

When Lee pulls away, your foreheads touch, seemingly not wanting to pull away. But he does, hesitantly so, but the blushes on your faces seemed to copy one another.

“Ah,” Lee shook his head, but the blush was still visible, pointing at the CUB in your arms, “w-what does this have to do with it?”

You lift up Punchy. And you grin menacingly.

[ ๑/////๑ "]

“Right, he's quite expressive, unlike his construct.”

Realization dawns on Lee's face.

“Despite Construct Lee's stoic expression,” you began your conclusion, “Punchy taps in his innermost feelings, thus reflecting what he has been feeling over the past few emotions.”

“Perhaps Punchy does know about you anyway,” you shrug, “since he's part of you.”

“I see,” Lee sighs, squeezing your hand, “Thank you, Commandant. I will write a report on it, then.”

“Don't call Punchy an 'it'!” You pout, pretending he has ears as you covered his side, cuddling in your arms, “he's part of you!”

Another realization dawns on you, gasping.

“Punchy is your child!”

“W-what?!” Lee sputters over your words.

[◎⁠д⁠◎!!]

The collective shock from the CUB and your lover made you laugh so hard. It didn't even need to be tested out, you should have done this in the beginning.

“God,” you wheezed, “I didn't know you were a daddy already, Lee.”

“Commandant,” Lee covers his red face, groaning, “please, no more. Don't call me that.”

“Whatever you say, Daddy Lee. We should take care of your child~”

“Commandant, no. Please.”

[ ๑/////๑ " ]

You patted Punchy's surface, before reaching out to cup Lee's cheeks, grinning. “I love you, Lee~”

Your lover only sighs, but you don't miss the smile on his face. “I love you too, [Y/N].”

shoutout to my best fwen @katsuonemars for inspiring me to write about this. they gave me a screenshot of Punchy's story, and motivated me to pull for Punchy as well as write about studying about him.

HEHE

— starry

[shamachan]

HAIIIII HELLO HII IM WAVING AT YOU , I LOVE YOUR WRITING AND IM EATING IT RIGHT NOW

ahem

would you mayhaps consider making a (romantic) Renee hc with a (gn) mc that gets hurt a lot?

THANK YOUU 🫶🏼

ROMANTIC RENEE MURRAY x GN! MC THAT GETS HURT A LOT HEADCANONS ꔛ

"Careless and fragile".

step: any step will suit

amount of symbols: ±2610 symbols

A/N below!

enjoy!

— Renee will be concerned all the time you get hurt.

— She'll also didn't get how do you do it... Like, hey, is that true that you got your big toe broken because you crashed into the nightstand once?

— Ren will sigh, but her demeanor immediately softens when she looks at your face. How could she even stand against your face covered in pain?

— Renee would be so caring for you, even if she can partly deny it.

— When you tell her that you often get hurt for whatever reason, she'll definitely start keeping a few first aid items somewhere nearby. So if you got injured, then she'll make sure to treat your every wound.

— She will quietly reproach you, but at the same time she will gently blow on where it hurts and maybe even dare to stroke a place around your injury ever so slightly.

— If your hand is injured, then Ren will definitely do everything instead of you during this time!

— Are you going to carry something? She will do it, not you. If you still don't get it, someone has a sore arm!

— Something wrong with your leg? Renee will make sure there's enough space for you to move, and move safely.

— And yet, her constant "dissatisfaction" with this comes from pure concern and care for you. She still smiles at you softly and listens when you're telling her about your adventures with other funny-or-not injures.

— But if you got seriously injured, she will be beside herself with worry and panic. Of course, she will immediately call an ambulance. She hopes and prays that everything will be okay with you.

— When Ren visits you in the hospital, i can imagine how she just can’t hold back and hugs you tightly! And she won’t leave your side at all. Do you even know how she was all worried about this whole situation with you? Oh she definitely will let you know about that.

— I bet she would visit you as often as she can, the hospital will become her second home this time. She just can not worry a lot about you now.

— Reassure her that 'it'll be okay' and make a promise that you'll be be more careful next time! And she will slightly calm down.

— In any case, probably she will be more attentive to you than before, trying to protect you from further injuries.

— You took a significant part of her heart and mind, so why can't you take care about your own wellbeing?

— “...You're too important for this happening to you, you know that?” she would say sitting beside your bed. Renee wouldn't look at you, but you already know for sure. Her words were sincere.

— I can say only one thing - take more care of yourself, please. Otherwise one particular girl will take proper care of you!

A/N: heyyy! thank u for the request! i had so much fun writing it<3

i hope that will be to your liking too!

tho I wrote it pretty quickly, hehehe. this may be the fastest yet enjoyable one

if i got something wrong or there are some advises for me, feel free to write it!

[givehimthemedicine]

🛁💧 Moms, bathtubs and fear of water

today I'd like to dig into some support for the Virginia/Henry/bathtub theory, most notably a Will/Henry parallel I've not seen discussed before, and some thoughts on the rabies thing.

for those just tuning in, we have hints that something awful happened involving Virginia, Henry, and a bathtub of hot water. (that idea is aemiron-main's, you can read the original here)

where there's a tub, there's a mom

let me start by seeing how many ST bathtubs can be tied to mothers. (much of this will have been pointed out before, but I have a couple observations I think are new)

starting at the top: Virginia's vision (turning on the hot water tap and spiders fill the tub instead of water):

Karen soaking in a hot bath listening to "Memories" before milfing it up with Billy, a minor, a boy her daughter's age. check

Will and Joyce "he likes it cold" you better believe that's a paddlin

we saw the Byers' tub before. when El saw it in the mirror (lol) and went to tell Joyce (Will's Mother) about her water tank idea. ok she was addressing the group but Joyce is the one who actually engages. I'm counting it. ps when they do set up the bath for El, Lucas uses a thermometer to make sure the water is the right temperature

this is a tiny one, but Nancy goes to sit on the tub and cry after excusing herself from Barb's mom at the KFC dinner.

that scene where El and Max find Billy's tub with ice bags?

darn, nothing immediately motherly in this scene. but what if we check the last dialogue in the prior scene? or the first dialogue in the following scene?

both hits! mom/age-inappropriate-sexual-knowledge + mother/son combo.💀

next up, FOR WHAT REASON was I made to see Murray get naked and get into a tub full of ice while on the phone with Joyce in 4x01?

let's also toss in a shot of Joyce being weird in her front yard, prompting a neighbor child to dispense a line of dialogue involving mothers.

but seriously. after all the flayed/ice tub imagery throughout s3, why kick off s4 with Murray in an ice bath? no, I'm really asking.

we've got a dash of sexual inappropriateness, or so Joyce thinks - Murray happens to plop into the ice at the exact moment that she observes the Russian doll has nipples, which makes her think his reaction is about that:

the only tub scene I'm struggling to tie super directly to mothers is Heather. you could say it's that Joyce appears in the next scene, but that's weak. or that Flayed Heather later drugs/kidnaps her mom. eh.

as em pointed out, the tub Heather's in here is extremely similar to Virginia Creel's. is that sufficient?

so anyway, some of those are def stronger than others, but they all provide some combination of: mothers, bathtubs (esp with attention drawn to water temperature), and fear/ sorrow / discomfort / sexual inappropriateness.

am I forgetting any other bathtubs?

now let's talk more about fear

what started me on this post was how possessed-Will's reaction to the bathtub is so explicitly labeled as fear - NOT by Will, but by Mr. Clarke's voiceover:

yet what sparked One's strength was a memory that made him "sad, but also angry" - which, if the implied tub incident indeed happened, would totally fit the bill.

sad and angry. not afraid. I guess it makes sense that fear isn't one of the emotions he would draw power from later upon recalling this event, but he undoubtedly would've been afraid in the moment. he didn't say that though.

not in that scene.

now, idk if he's referring to The Incident here, or his early lab life or what, but. oh I'm at my image limit. ok well his lines leading up to this are (close up of dead kids) "why do you cry for them, Eleven? after everything they did to you? you think you need them, but you don't. you don't."

why exactly would El "need" the other lab kids? according to NINA, they treated her poorly. tbh kinda sounds more like a projected reaction to the death of an abusive mother.

anyway. apart from that "I was scared once" reference to some past turning point, man will not say he is or was scared. he'll imply and project but he won't say it:

you know who else won't say they're scared? Will.

Will has never said once on the entire show that he's afraid. ever. throughout all the utterly HORRIFYING situations he's been in. he undoubtedly has been scared, and other characters say that about him many times, but Will has never said, in his own words, as far as I can find, that he's afraid.

he dances around it and veils it and teeters on the edge of it, but he will not actually say I Am Afraid.

"how did you feel?" "it felt like when you're scared" boy what.

but Will has not always been fearless!

wanna know what the very first mention of fear on the whole show is? Will assuring Joyce he won't have nightmares from seeing Poltergeist because:

is it not giving "I was scared once too" ?

now here comes my favorite part:

Joyce replies with the "my witch" thing, and she doesn't actually finish the sentence, but I think that last word can be guessed pretty accurately:

cook him up in your what?

your cauldron? cauldron, kôl′drən, noun: 1. A large vessel used for boiling?

so like... have I got this straight? our earliest flashback of Will involves his mother playing an evil character who's gonna put him in a large vessel of hot liquid?

I ask you again: is it not giving "I was scared once too"?

I'm tacking my red conspiracy yarn in at "Henry was five years old."

now, just wondering, what was the turning point that made Will stop having nightmares from movies and "getting scared like that"? Bob_one_day_the_nightmares_suddenly_stopped.wav

now let's talk about rabies

Robin proceeds to list some rabies symptoms and what's funny about that (besides the fact they're standing in a mysteriously dry lakebed) is she left out possibly the best-known symptom: fear of water.

in fact, rabies used to be called hydrophobia ("fear of water").

hydrophobia in rabies stems from paralysis of throat muscles making it difficult or impossible to swallow, and so sufferers will panic at the prospect of drinking or even the mere sight of water. excessive salivation + inability to swallow it leads to the other pop culture rabies symptom, the appearance of "foaming at the mouth".

pretend here I put in screenshots of El and Barb spitting up water when they wake up in the UD and that unnecessary shot of Billy drooling when El is levitating him

Robin's isn't the only reference to rabies on ST. it's come up in two other seasons:

so every time rabies comes up, it's in reference to demodogs, demobats, and flayed rats. all critters that are part of the hive.

ostensibly controlled by one guy, who is afraid of water.

misc honorable mentions:

what do you wanna bet Dart not only doesn't need water, but would hate water like he hates heat?

Dart grew up to be a demodog, and demodogs dug those tunnels - the ones Bob figured out were a map of Hawkins because the "roads" outlined recognizable bodies of water instead of crossing over them.

when Bob said that, he didn't know the "roads" were underground, and therefore it wouldn't be crossing over water but rather crossing through water. if your tunnel breached a lake or river, it would flood. the demodogs were avoiding water.

also: no one in the water, you say?

speaking of Hawkins Pool, there's also the thing I've mentioned before, how it seems incredibly relevant that One chose Billy as his s3 host - a lifeguard whose one possession-busting happy memory involved his mother warning him not to drown.

also: Hopper saying that jumping into the quarry would result in the water "breaking every damn bone in your body"

and Jason asks Patrick, right before Vecna breaks every damn bone in his body in Lovers Lake:

I'm going to think of more as soon as I hit post but that's all I have for you today.

I want real answers on the Murray ice thing btw

[tyrantisterror]

You Don't Remember Muncher

Sony, as a film-making company, has reeked of desperation for at least a decade at this point. They have IPs that they know SHOULD be making them more money but they just. Can't. Get them to. And sometimes this results in them taking some big creative swings, to be completely fair - I love the Spider-Verse movies, and you don't get movies that expensive and conceptually heavy with a studio executive who's playing it safe. And I think the fact that they keep taking these big swings even when some of them end up duds like Sausage Party is commendable.

But I do think one of their big problems is this inability to understand that 1. films are a form of art and 2. what art is. They're good enough to understand that artists know what art is, which is more than a lot of studio leadership can say, and those big creative swings they take come from trusting artists to do their art thing. And even their misfires tend to have laudable stuff - Sausage Party may be an SNL gag that someone decided to stuff full of the most dated racism and bigoted jokes imaginable to get up to movie feature runtime, but the animation in it is oddly beautiful, even when depicting things that are repulsive. Like a protestant on the way to Dracula's castle, the heads at Sony seem to treat their artists with respect despite not understanding why they gave them a rosary and other primitive superstitious charms to protect them from vampires.

But when they have to make choices themselves, hoo boy, those poor bastards. They don't know what they're doing.

So Ghostbusters is one of those valuable IPs Sony is desperate to monetize, right? They just know they can have a huge hit on their hands with Ghostbusters. It was popular in the 80's, and things that were popular in the 80's are HUGE now! Look at that Stranger Things, baby!

Now, the heads at Sony may not be able to understand art, but they try. They are at the very least good at picking apart a piece of art and sussing out what ingredients made it, like Claire Saffitz trying to recreate an oreo. For their 2016 reboot, they correctly deduced that the original Ghostbusters was 1. a comedy 2. starring at least two actors from SNL and using their star power for promotion and 3. was liked by nerds because the heroes are out-of-shape nerds rather than chiseled Rambo/Arnie types. Also it has ghosts in it, probably.

Now, the problem is, the SNL actor-led comedy was taken out into a dark alley and slowly beaten to death by Adam Sandler and his cadre of goblin men starting somewhere around the time Little Nicky was made. It gave way to the era of cringe comedies like The Hangover and Judd Apatow bromances, which were led less by SNL stars and more by actors and actresses who'd gotten their start on NBC thursday night sitcoms - a minor difference, perhaps, but notable I think. And, like, even then, by 2016, that era was also pretty much over. The cringe comedy was a dying genre. Comedy itself, at least pure comedies, was kind of losing its place in film, being supplanted by action movies with more quips than they used to have. We were three years deep into THE WHEDONING.

But being three years behind the curve has never been a problem Sony worried about. I mean, historically it should be, but they never do. So Sony tried to assemble the best Ghostbusters they could make from the ingredients they could suss out, using the closest equivalents they could make. Grab some of the actresses from Bridesmaids, and an SNL star or two if you can. Kristen Wiig and Melissa McCarthy have a pretty good banter going on ala Bill Murray and Dan Akroyd, really put them front and center. Oh, and we sussed out another ingredient! The original Ghostbusters had Sigourney Weaver as a love interest, and she was the star of Alien, which our Sony genre determining bot claims is an action movie, so let's get a hot action star as a love interest. Chris Hemsworth! Oh, we can make him be a silly goober like we did with John Hamm in Bridesmaids! People love handsome guys being silly goobers! (in this, Sony is correct)

The result was... fine, I think, if missing a few crucial ingredients. You know the ghosts in Ghostbusters? First syllable of the title? Most of the ones in the 2016 movie are just, you know, transparent humans, maybe a bit bluer than normal, making maniacal faces. Whereas in the original:

Well, they got some fucked up freaks in the original.

A lot of fans didn't like the 2016 movie, some for stupid sexism reasons, some for "I don't see why you need to remake Ghostbusters at all really" reasons, and some for, like, just personal taste reasons. It did not provide the big box office hit Sony wanted. Their first attempt to recreate the oreo was a failure.

So they go back to the drawing board, listening to the loudest, angriest criticism and looking to what's working outside of their influence for answers. Fans thought the 2016 movie was too different, not reverent towards the original as the perfect golden calf of Bill Murray comedies that it is. So this new reboot would be oozing with reverence. Fans didn't like the cast of ladies, so, yes, got it, scrap the lady-led ghostbusters.

Star Wars Fans loved that J.J. Abrams Star Wars reboot, The Force Awakens, for being a sequel rather than a full reboot, but also for just telling the same story they already love but slightly different. And nerds in general still fucking love that Stranger Things show - they even had an episode where the Stranger Things kids wore ghostbusters costumes! Hey, there's a million dollar idea, Stranger Things kids... as ghostbusters...

Now, the one thing they can't take from The Force Awakens is copying the tone of their original movie, because they tried copying the irreverent tone of the original Ghostbusters and fans did not like it. They need to be reverent to the original, because that's what The Force Awakens, even if showing reverence at all is antithetical to the tone of the original movie itself (which it is, because Ghostbusters is an irreverent Bill Murray comedy, like that's its whole schtick). But if they can drape this new-found reverence in 80's nostalgia, maybe, just maybe, nostalgic fans will be too dumb to notice.

And hey, they love that Stranger Things, which is a big homage to The Goonies and E.T. and Steven Spielberg-esque stories about pubescent kids going on perilous adventures where they face bad guys and learn life lessons in the process, reverent but dated in the same time period as Ghostbusters. And what an idea... Stranger Things kids... as ghostbusters...

This was admittedly a lot of preamble to get to the actual topic: Muncher. See, in that Force Awakens style, they needed to not only bring old characters from Ghostbusters back, but also make new characters who are really just the old characters but slightly different. For example, The Force Awakens brings us BB-8, who's basically just R2-D2, but visually different enough to feel new, and maybe a little cuter. Instead of moving on treads, he moves on this big ball, which is more complicated from a puppetry aspect and thus looks a lot more impressive and just a bit more "modern" while still basically being R2-D2 again.

Such was the genesis of Muncher.

Slimer (originally called Onionhead by the production staff and John Belushi's Ghost by Bill Murray) wasn't intended to be the franchise mascot, in part because Ghostbusters was never meant to be a franchise. He was a one off ghost who's iconic design and role as the first ghost to be busted made him a fan favorite, and eventually became, like, the ghostbusters' dog in the cartoon series. We love that for him, but the fact remains that Slimer's success was accidental.

Muncher, by contrast, was an attempt to recreate Slimer. But different! He's a gross gluttonous monster, because that's what Slimer is, but there's a lot less focus on wet goo when he eats and more solid chunks. See, it's different? And you know what's popular now thanks to, like, a cracked article or something? Tardigrades! They're these cool little microscopic things that everyone's making into monster designs now, they're even on a Star Trek! Why, if we made Slimer 2 - err, that is, Muncher have some tardigrade elements, he'd look weird and, like, modern - but not too modern! Like Slimer, but different!

Before Ghostbusters: Afterlife came out, there was a LOT of Muncher merchandise. A lot. Which makes sense, Slimer had so much goddamn merch in the heyday of the original Ghostbusters. There was fucking Slimer toothpaste. Toothpaste! From Slimer's teats!

It looked identical to Slimer bubblegum.

But, for whatever reason, Muncher did not connect like Slimer did, and so Sony did a last minute trend-chasing pivot and tried to focus on the new hotness: cute baby versions of characters who were old and not cute in the original movie.

I don't know if this scene was planned to be in the movie before The Mandalorian was a big success, or if it was a hasty addition to it, but it doesn't matter, because what does matter is the late marketing shift to focus on these little fuckers, and giving them lots of toys. They're already in the marketing for the sequel, where Muncher is nowhere to be found.

Because you don't remember Muncher, do you?

Muncher didn't connect. They took a swing with Muncher and they fucking whiffed. They made a shitload of Muncher toys and all those little blue fuckers ended up clearanced to Hell. Muncher is a failure, a loser.

You don't remember Muncher.

And you never will.

[dragonfruits02]

a list of my favorite spy school funny moments/quotes

- “What the heck are powdered nutgalls?” Chip asked. “It’s what you get after riding a horse at high speed for an hour,” Mike grumbled, gingerly adjusting the seat of his pants.

- Jemma Emma Dilemma

- “Or Agent Kumquat,” Chip added, and then both of them cracked up.

- Alexander glared at him, still smarting from his insult. “See if I ever buy you campfire treats again.” he said, and then stormed out himself.

- “Not necessarily. I could like them as a friend.” “First of all, you don’t have friends.”

- “Parcheesi?! I loooove Parcheesi.”

- “I lost the arm and the leg, but not the eye.” “Oh, how’d you lose that?” “A bug flew into it.” “Uhh, you don’t lose your eye if a bug flies into it.” “You do if it’s your first day with a hook.😒”

- “Although believe it or not, Nefarious actually got off easy. According to his file, his folks named his little sister Placenta.”

- “If there’s one thing I know, it’s women.” Murray exclaimed.

- Now that he had transformed into Hot Murray,

- “How good is your vision?” Mike asked. “It’s off the charts,” Erica replied. “I eat a lot of carrots.”

- “Supposedly the guy was a big jerk, and the peasants all rose up against him and burned him alive, and now his ghost roams the property, looking for a… fire extinguisher or something like that.”

- He was at the base of an extremely tall elm tree, speaking into a radio microphone and seeming far more lucid than usual—although the moment he saw Chip and Jawa, he went right back into his doddering act. “Skip and Yaya!”

- “Dad, I’m going to need you to act like you have no idea what’s going on.” “What?” Alexander asked, confused. “I don’t understand.”

- “Wow! Our pool at spy school didn’t have water slides.” “Really? What did it have?” “Bacterial contamination.😕”

- “So, this girlfriend of Mike’s…is he super into her, or just kind of into her?” “He’s mentioned marriage. 🙂”

- “I think plenty!” The principal said defensively. “My mind is a constant whirlwind of thinkery!”

- “Erica!” Alexander gasped, mortified this had happened in front of so many people. “We do not spit on our grandfathers in this family!”

- Paul Lee leaned close to me and whispered, “Has he uh..uh…had some sort of, um, brain injury?” “No.” I replied. “This is how he was born, I think.”

- “Erica! You’re driving on the wrong side of the street!” “I’m not driving on the wrong side.🙄” Erica argued, gunning the engine. “They are!”

- Chip pegged him in the face with another pair of boxers. “Warren, stop playing with my underwear, you pervert.”

- “Now? Here?” “National security is at stake.” “It was at stake this morning when I was having waffles in the cafeteria. We couldn’t have discussed this then??”

- “All these men are itching for a fight. And since I’m the alpha male here, they’re going to come for me first!” Alexander said. “The alpha male.?🤨” Catherine asked, amused. “Yes! It won’t look good for them to attack women or children, so they’ll attack me first!” “And me.” Murray seconded nervously. “I’m definitely the beta male here!”

- “Neither does Jawa. Why aren’t you suspicious of him?” “Jawa’s a freak of nature. You’re just a freak.”

- “Hey! Where’s my breakfast?” The woman socked him in the face. Murray reeled backward. “Okay! No tip for you!” He said, then collapsed on the floor, unconscious.

- I quickly replaced the skull and wiped my hand on my shirt. “This is sooo not how I wanted to spend my first day in Paris.” OKAY DRAMA QUEEN?

- “West Virginia?” Claire Hutchins called from a few rows up. “I thought that was all strip mines and inbred hillbillies.” “You heard wrong.” Chip shot back. “As you can see, there’s plenty of wilderness here. And the locals are far less inbred than the royal family.”

- “Do you not care one wit for your country?” “No! I care many wits for my country!”

- “What have you done?!” He screamed at us. “What have you done?!” “Well, it’s obvious,” I said. “We’ve blown up a rebel minivan.”

- Murray sighed. “I know you’ve got issues with Ben because he turned you into half the man you used to be.” (About Joshua)

- “Talk about being heavily armed.” Mike said. (Also about Joshua)

[bylrlve]

403-404 thoughts

(Prev post here)

Murray’s prophecy of the kids playing too much Nintendo, eating too much junk food, smoking some ganja, pounding some beers, and experimenting sexually is actually eerily accurate. Nintendo, as @gayofthefae brilliantly observed, has been equated to the Nina project. Eating junk food? The boys presumably survived on the (quickly cold) pizzas and the sodas Argyle delivered to their house - and if they stopped at gas stations… these boys would have little to no money on their persons, so junk is all they could really afford, one assumes. Smoking ganja? Jon and Argyle. Pounding beers? Not the Cali gang, but Lucas did.

Experimenting sexually? No one has sex during s4 - Jopper makeout but that’s hardly experimenting, and certainly not for adults, and he was specifically talking about the kids. None of them are in the mood for it, naturally, but I wouldn’t be surprised if this is foreshadowing… something between a certain pair of boys. It couod be a cheeky reference to Will growing into his sexuality but, and forgive my crudeness here, right-hand solo sex doesn’t really fit, especially since he was talking about Jonathan, El, Mike, and Will as a group, implying a plural. In fact, this scene takes place directly after El and Mike fight, and after she is arrested. Experimenting is a very loaded word…

Never fails to get me how Mike just threw her last letter into the trash - it had already been explained that he may not see her for months, and here he is, treating her last missive to him with such disrespect. This attitude isn’t even new - he crumpled up and tossed aside the letter she’d painstakingly written and drawn rainbow designs on in the opening minutes. Meanwhile… there are Funko Pops of him proudly showing off the new painting Will made for him.

“You’re packed already?” “Yeah, I mean, I never really unpacked.” is the most blatantly subtext-ridden thing to come out of Mike’s mouth all season, and it’s the biggest piece of in-verse proof that he was fronting hard during 402 - and that was the lovey-doviest he was with El.

Can we all just take a moment to appreciate Mike saying that home isn’t home without Will? Fuck the monologue, that is the most romantic thing Mike says all season.

@bylertruth3r made the above video, showing the eerily similarity between the Byler 404 reunion and a scene in 13 Reasons Why - and this scene was originally scripted as Mike coming up to Will kneeling oj the ground, meaning it was conceived as them being much closer together.

I don’t think we appreciate, enough, that Mike monologued to Will in this scene. Not only are Jasons’s ily to Chrissy at the pep rally, Jancy’s ilys, Argyle and Eden’s LAFS, Max’s saving herself from Vecna with flashbacks, and Dustin’s ILY to Eddie all contrasts to the Mike monologue sequence in 409… but this is, too. Here are Mike’s three big monologues lain out:

"El? I don't know if you can hear this, but... but if you can, I want you to know I'm here, okay? I'm right here. And... I love you. El, do you hear me? I love you. I'm sorry I don't say it more. I... It's not because I'm scared of you. I'm not. I've never felt that way. Never. But I am scared that one day you'll realize you don't need me anymore. And I thought if I said how I felt, it would somehow make that day hurt more. But the truth is, El, I don't know how to live without you. I feel like my life started that day we found you in the woods. You were wearing that yellow Benny's Burgers T-shirt. And it was so big it almost swallowed you whole. And I knew right then and there, in that moment, that I loved you. And I've loved you every day since. I love you on your good days. I love you on your bad days. I love you with your powers, I love you without your powers. I love you for exactly who you are. You're my superhero. And... I can't lose you. Okay? Do you hear me? I can't lose you. You can do anything. You can fly. You can move mountains. I believe that. I really do. But right now, you just have to fight. Okay? El. Do you hear me? You need to fight! You have to fight. Fight!” Tearing up, not crying.

“Do you remember the first day that we met? It was… it was the first day of kindergarten. I knew nobody. I had no friends. And I just felt so alone, and so scared, but… I saw you on the swings, and you were alone too,. You were just swinging by yourself. And I just walked up to you, and I asked. I asked if you wanted to be my friend. And you said yes. You said yes. It was the best thing I’ve ever done.”

“Hey also, about the last few days… No, no, no. You didn’t deserve anything. Listen, the truth is… the last year has been weird, you know. And I mean, Max and Lucas and Dustin… they’re great, they’re great, itd just… it’s Hawkins. It’s not the same without you. And I feel like I was worrying too much about El, and I don’t know. I feel like I… lost you, or something. I have no idea what’s going to happen next. But whatever it is, I think we should work together. I think it’ll be easier if we’re a team. Best friends. Cool.”

Some quick observations:

1 and 2 occur under near-identical circumstances - El and Will are under Vecna’s control and he’s trying to give them strength. 3 is entirely unprompted. The first occurs under a level of duress similar to that of a gun being held to El’s head, as gayofthefae observes here

The rain fight is all over the s4 bedroom scene, and it’s very clearly on both of their minds. Mike has spent the past nine months addressing every criticism of Will’s - he’s friends with Dusfin, he’s playing D&as, he only kissed El when she initiated, and broke it quickly, and he even got angry at Lucas for prioritising others over the Party - although his complaint, unlike Will’s, was irrational and unfair. He relapsed at the airport and roller rink by trying to be normal, but this scene is him course-correcting for that. Mike’s calling himself a self-pitying idiot and thanking Will for being sensible is likelt not only referring to the earlier scene in Will’s room, but to the S3 and 402 fights. If that is the intention, it makes one wonder what Mike was self-pitying about in the latter. @howtobecomeadragon discusses it in-depth here

Right from my very first watch, the proposal imagery in the s2 speech - ‘I walked up to you, and I asked. I asked if you wanted to be my _, and you said yes… you said yes. It was the best thing I’ve ever done.’ - jumped out at me. M*levens regularly theorise that the series will end with Mike and El either getting married, or engaged, citing that Lucas line from s1 as foreshadowing - but we see in s3 that Mike relies on Lucas to push him through every stage of the apology, while he doesn’t with Will, and we see bouquet imagery subverted with that gift of flowers at the airport (see below).

TOO MUCH? Mike spent the s3-4 break backsliding in the whole ‘say ILY to El’ plot… but did address the problems Will had with him. Not only that… he came to the conclusion that he worried too much about El? Specifically because he lost Will as a result? I said in the previous post that Bylers don’t talk enough about “Who… who said that I didn’t?” We definitely don’t talk enough about the anti-m*leven implications of this line, because they’re bonkers. Mike worries a lot about El when she’s away at Nina, but at home he’s distinctly distant from her -

while only drawing closer to Will

This is how he looked at Will during the 404 monologue btw: (gif credit to @palettehao and gayofthefae)

Lastly, I’ll finish this analysis post by swinging back to 402, and to the fact that Mike picking that bouquet? It doesn’t make much sense, timeline-wise. In fact, I honestly can’t figure out when he picked them.

Mike only says, on March 22, that he picked them ‘in Hawkins’ before launching into a nervous, distracting spiel about picking 70:30 purple to yellow, only maybe he picked too much yellow*, etc.

On the morning of March 21 he was still in his underwear reading over a letter to El, and was delayed going to with. He had classes at school, and was preoccupied during lunch bargaining with Eddie, bargaining wi5 various students, and finally bargaining with Erica. Between school and Hellfire he could plausibly have picked them, but that would have required cycling across town and back, when Nancy drove him to school - he didn’t have his bike at school. He also had nowhere to put them, except the backpack that presumably had school supplies in it - those flowers would not have looked so fresh had he shoved them in a backpack. Dustin also doesn’t mention him being gone prior to Hellfire. After hellfire, he went home to be there by 9 - he had to have done, otherwise he wouldn’t have been allowed on the flight.

His flight was at 6:30 and Indiana -> Cali takes 4 hrs 10 minutes. He would have been awake from very early in the morning with Karen, gathering his stuff, and then driving to the airport with adequate time to check-in and board the plane. There isn’t a hope in hell of Karen letting him randomly cycle across town in the dark for an undetermined length of time just to pick some fucking flowers, lmao. There is a strong chance, however, that Karen, the romantic, let him buy flowers and a pen in the Indianapolis airport before boarding the flight. Maybe she even purchased them.

The kicker? The bouquet of flowers had a fancy, polished-looking greeting card attached, one professionally made.

There is something deliciously meta about those flowers. M*levens have adopted yellow and purple as a symbol of the relationship - even though Mike only wore those colours to please her when he was being ‘hokey’ and a ‘knock-off’, to quote Argyle and the costume designer. I’m not even sure El truly favours those colours, as she doesn’t wear them much and doesn’t have any notable items in those colours. For all we know, she was asked if she had any favourite colours and simply picked two that came to mind.

What’s more, it seems very likely that Mike simply lied to her about putting in the effort of getting them himself, and instead relied on something pre-made and commercial. It isn’t impossible that he picked them, however (though the timing is a mystery) - we are shown at the end of the season that the field outside Hopper’s cabin has very similar flowers. But those… well… those have their own implications

*talk about subtext lmao…

To finish, I want to share a delicious finding from @sapphicjopper on twitter from last may - the working name for st4 was Tareco. There’s a song called Tareco & Mariola, all about a girl who knows her lover isn’t right for her, who knows that she doesn’t need him, and who is leaving him - ‘it’s not you who will give me the spring, the beautiful flowers I dreamed of in summer’. It’s reminiscent of the opera Nina - about a woman waiting for her lover, not accepting that he won’t return and be how she desperately wants him to be.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Closure

"We like Steve, but we don't love Steve," Murray said mockingly.

A wave of fury rose up in Nancy. What business is it of his? Steve has been there for her more than anyone. He didn't have to go to the dinners with her but he did, every single one of them. He walked back into the house and fought the demogorgon when he didn't have to. He could have run. He was there for her, and she was just going to let this asshole mock him? No.

"I don't think it's any of your business," Nancy snapped. "And I love Steve. Maybe not in the way that he loves me, but I love him."

"Okay, okay," Murray said, holding up his hands defensively. "Sensitive, very sensitive."

Later that night, she lay in bed thinking about Steve and Jonathan. She also thought about Barb. She should feel victorious, but there was a guilty feeling in the pit of her stomach. She thought about the gate, how it was still open, and spreading into Hawkins. They weren't the same scientists, not the ones that killed Barb, and they were trying to stop the spread, but they were failing. . . They were only keeping it at bay momentarily. What if what she did puts them at risk because all she could see was getting justice for Barb? What if it swallows the entire town? What if it kills Holly? Or her mom and Dad? Or Mike? Oh, god, what did she do? What if the lab shuts down, and they can't stop it? Will was still getting treated by the doctors when no one else could possibly help, and she dragged his brother into this. Nancy rolled out of bed and rushed to the bathroom, emptying the contents of her stomach into the porcelain bowl. Jonathan popped his head into the bathroom.

"Nancy?" He asked as he knelt next to her.

"We fucked up. We shouldn't have done this. It's still open, Jonathan," Nancy said. "I didn't think about it when I saw it, and why didn't I? Why wasn't that enough for me to wake up? I was so angry. I was just so angry."

"Nancy - " Jonathan started to say.

"It's too late. I don't think I could get that creep to turn over anything now," Nancy sniffled. "God, it was so weird that he was pushing us together like that."

"Well, I mean, the idea of us isn't totally crazy, is it?" Jonathan asked.

"Jonathan. . .I'm still with Steve. . .and while I do have feelings for you, I don't think it would be a good idea. I'm still dealing with Barbara, and I could really use a friend, and I know that's not what you want to hear. I need friends to talk to. . . like you. . .like Steve. I don't think I can handle a relationship right now, not with either of you," Nancy sighed. "And I think that if you pulled your head out of your ass, you and Steve could be great friends too."

"Nance, he said some awful things - " Jonathan started to stay.

"Yeah, he apologized for those," Nancy snapped. "And you nearly killed him for it, so I think you're even."

"He's a douchebag," Jonathan scoffed.

"And you aren't? Need I remind you that you took those photos of me," she said. "And I just put everyone at risk! None of us are perfect, but do I really have to remind you that Steve put his life on the line for both of us? I could really use both of you. . . I can't lose anyone else. Can't you at least try?"

"Nancy. . . "

"Come on, you both like to cook!" Nancy said.

"He cooks? He doesn't have people do that for him?" Jonathan asked with a scoff of disbelief.

"His parents leave him alone all the time. He kind of had to fend for himself, kind of like you did, except your mom actually gives a shit," Nancy said and then paused. "Don't tell him I told you that."

"Damn it," Jonathan muttered and sighed. "Fine. I'll give the guy a chance."

"Thank you," Nancy said softly.

"I never actually apologized for taking those photos. It doesn't matter why I took those photos, I still took them, and I shouldn't have," Jonathan said. "I'm sorry, and I'm not taking it back this time. I actually mean it. Not only did I invade your privacy, but I also abused my skills as a photographer."

"Thank you for saying that," Nancy said softly. "And thank you for meaning it. There's a part of me that's always going to be a little weirded out by it, which is another reason why we shouldn't be together, but I want you to know that I do forgive you."

Nancy and Jonathan stayed on the floor in silent contemplation.

"You know, I don't think I'm ready for a relationship either," Jonathan said.

"Yeah," Nancy said softly.

There was another long moment of silence between them.

"You know, you would make a better journalist than that guy," Jonathan said.

"Yeah?" Nancy asked.

"Yeah."

When they got back to Hawkins, things had gone to shit. Will was now possessed by what the kids are calling the Mind Flayer, Steve’s like their guardian now, and El was alive, getting ready to close the gate with Hopper. Meanwhile, Steve and Nancy were looking through the heaters out on the lawn to use to get the Mind Flayer out of Will.

"You should go with him," Steve said.

"What?" Nancy asked.

"With Jonathan," Steve said.

"No, I'm not just going to leave Mike," Nancy scoffed.

"No one's leaving anyone. I may be a pretty shitty boyfriend . . . But I'm a damn good babysitter," Steve said.

"Steve. . . "

"It's okay, Nance. It's okay," Steve said softly, and her eyes filled with tears.

"You were not a shitty boyfriend! You were the best first boyfriend I could have asked for, and I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you were. I was drowning and . . . You helped. You were there. After this we'll talk properly, okay?" Nancy sniffled and hugged Steve tightly. "Just want you to know that nothing happened with Jonathan. We're just friends. I don't want to lose either of you from my life, okay? Promise?"

"I promise," Steve said.

After freeing Will from the Mind Flayer, they met up with Hop in front of Jonathan's house. Hop was pulling El out of the car when they approached. Nancy opened the front door for him, following him into the house. When they walked in, they found the kids arguing with Steve over a knocked out Billy Hargrove. Steve’s face was bloody and beaten.

"I say we bury him outside with the other demodogs," Mike scowled.

"Mike! He is a person, and he's still alive!" Steve yelled. "He's also Max's brother."

"Stepbrother!" Max corrected.

"He slammed Lucas into a wall!" Mike screeched.

"He did what?!" Joyce asked, appalled.

"What the hell is going on here?" Hopper asked as he set El on the couch.

The kids started talking at once until Steve whistled, hollered, and clapped his hands.

"Hey, shitheads! Let me do the talking," Steve replied, putting his hands on his hips.

"You really are a good babysitter," Nancy grinned.

"More like a mom," Jonathan whispered loudly, and Nancy snickered.

"He's my stepbrother," Max spoke up. "He came looking for me. He didn't want me to hang out with Lucas, and so he attacked him. Steve stepped in to help, but Billy nearly killed him, so I used the ketamine to knock him out."

"I mean, I don't think he would have killed me," Steve frowned.

"You were unconscious, and he was still beating on you," Lucas said.

"You didn't see the look on his face!" Dustin exclaimed, his face pale. "He enjoyed it!"

"Okay. I need to deal with Hargrove, but first, I need to take you to the hospital," Hopper sighed.

"I'm fine," Steve said.

"Fine?! Fine?! He smashed a plate over your head, Steve!" Dustin exclaimed.

"What?!" Nancy, Jonathan, and Joyce exclaimed.

"Uh, I'll take Steve to the hospital, and you can deal with Hargrove if it makes it easier, Hop," Jonathan said, and Hopper nodded.

"I'll go with you," Nancy said.

"I'll go too!" Dustin and Lucas exclaimed.

"We're going to need to take Will to the hospital, anyway," Joyce said.

"I'm fine," Will said.

"Is there an echo in here?" Joyce scowled. "Max and Mike, you can ride with us."

"Yeah, we can go to the hospital," Will said.

Nancy practically pushed Steve into the passenger's seat before he could protest and climbed into the back seat with the two boys.

"Hey, Steve?" Lucas asked.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks, man," Lucas said softly.

"Anytime," Steve said with a grin.

Lucas lunged forward and hugged Steve from behind before plopping back down into his seat.

"Aww," Nancy, Jonathan, and Dustin said in unison.

"Oh my God! Shut up and drive!" Lucas exclaimed.

After Steve was admitted into the hospital as the doctors wanted to keep him overnight for observation, Jonathan went to check in on Will. On the way out of Steve’s room, he pulled Dustin and Lucas out of the room, leaving Nancy alone with Steve.

"You know, I have a hard time putting into words how I feel about someone. Steve, you're an important part of my life, and I want you to continue to be a part of it. I do love you, Steve, but not in the way that you want me to. I'm sorry I couldn't say that before, and I'm sorry that I hurt you. Don't say that I didn't because I did, Steve. You were there for me when not a lot of people were and you went to every dinner when you didn't have to. You held me as I cried, and you listened to me talk about Barb. I think if Barb hadn't died that night, I think I would have fallen head over heels for you, but too much has happened, and I don't know how to forget," Nancy said, crying.

"I don't think you ever forget. I think you just put one foot in front of the other and I think you'll find that it is easier to walk even with all the weight that you carry. You just get stronger," Steve shrugged and paused. "I don't want to lose you either."

"You're pretty smart, you know that? Why don't you bring it out more often?" Nancy asked.

"Some people just like me for my pretty face," Steve tried to joke.

"You're beautiful inside and out, Steve Harrington," Nancy said.

"Back at you," Steve smiled, sniffling. "I love you."

"I love you too," Nancy smiled and hugged him tightly.

Jonathan tentatively knocked on the door and popped his head in. His shoulders were a little tense.

"Can I come in?" He asked.

"Yeah," Nancy said.

"I just want to say, Steve, that it was pretty cool what you did. Those guys mean a lot to Will, and he's very grateful to you. So am I," Jonathan said.

"Thanks, man," Steve said, and then he grinned. "I guess you heard that I'm single now. Do you want a piece of this action? I have to say I'm still very fragile."

"Fuck off, man," Jonathan laughed, his shoulders relaxing. "I don't do jocks."

Nancy giggled, looking gratefully at Jonathan. It was a good start for all of them. A very good start.

[quixoticall]

This Could Get Ugly Track 2: The Beginning

Summary: It's 1983 and The Downsides need another lead singer and you just happen to need a band--it's a perfect match. The only issue? You have to pretend to be in a relationship with your bandmate, Steve Harrington, but you can't help but be drawn to the band's broody guitar player.

pairing: s.h. x fem!reader, e.m. x fem!reader, j.b. x n.w., r.b x n.w.

warnings: Heavy drug use, era-normalized!misogyny, everyone is a dick, Mention of French people, angst, fake relationships, partial interview style, no use of y/n

WC: 12K

MASTERLIST🎸

PLAY PREVIOUS TRACK 🎤

NANCY: Eddie was... not what we expected.

ROBIN: Eddie Munson looked like he’d been through some shit.

I’m not talking about the fact that he was covered in tattoos and never got a haircut. It was more that he just always looked sad and tired and kinda strung out.

NANCY: He looked a bit out of place with the rest of us.

ROBIN: He did not fit in one bit. I mean to be fair, we were a bit of a hodgepodge anyway but Eddie took the cake. 

He was pure metal, the kind of guy who should’ve been in like Iron Maiden, not a synth band! So, we were kinda confused as to why Starcourt thought it would be a good idea to bring him on board.

And then we heard him play.

NANCY: Eddie was the best guitar player we ever had and the best songwriter up until that point, too. Don’t tell Jonathan or Steve I said that, though.

ROBIN: Yeah, he was better than Steve and I would say that to Steve’s face. In fact, I did say that to Steve’s face when we first heard Eddie play.

He was not happy about that. Actually, he wasn’t happy at all when Eddie first joined.

NANCY: It didn’t take very long for us to figure out that he was only there to fulfill a contract. I mean, it wasn’t like he was the most enthusiastic to be there but he wasn’t rude or hard to work with, he just treated it like any other job. He would be polite, but not overly friendly, do his thing in the booth, and then go sit and read until we needed him again.

Steve’s ego was still a bit tender after what had happened between him and me. I think seeing Starcourt bringing in this amazingly talented guitar player did him in a little. He was always used to being the best at what he did and suddenly that was no longer true. On top of that, Eddie just didn’t care and that made it worse in Steve’s eyes. They would butt heads all the time while we were recording our self-titled album. Things were a bit tense at the beginning, but we sounded better with Eddie there, much to Steve’s chagrin.

ROBIN: If you ask me, they hated how similar they were and that’s why they didn’t get along or maybe Steve was jealous of how little Eddie had to try to be good. Either way, those few first months after Eddie joined were almost as intense as the weeks following Jancygate. Don’t get me wrong, we always sounded great but there was no cohesion. We were trying to record our first full-length album but nothing ever came out sounding right, it was driving everyone crazy.

NANCY: When you’re first starting out in the industry, you don’t really have much of a say. You do what you’re told, you go to the meetings you're scheduled, and you add whatever member they throw at you. So, when Starcourt set up a lunch meeting with one of their producers about adding someone else to the band, we had no choice but to go.

May 26, 1983: The Bull and Bush

“Tell me again who this meeting is with?” You ask Murray from across the suspiciously long table.

When he had called you earlier in the week to set up lunch, he had been uncharacteristically cryptic about who the lunch was with and only told you it was with, “A few folks over at Starcourt,” he parroted again between bites of a bread roll. You stare him down silently over the rim of your martini glass and he gives, a little.

“I think I found you a way out of all these duets and possibly a chance to write music.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. Yes, that all seemed great but with Starcourt things were rarely what they seemed.

“By the looks of this table for 10, I’m starting to think that maybe you’re trying to recruit me to the company softball team, Murray.”

“Not today, sweetheart, but don’t worry, the Comets will get you eventually.”

Your second drink is interrupted by a tall, imposing man approaching the table. He has thick eyebrows that naturally knit together and a thicker mustache that rests straight along his mouth. You vaguely recognized him as an exec from the record label but his casual flowered button-down and white linen trousers make you doubt your memory.

“This is Hopper. Jim Hopper,” Murray says to you in a sweeping introduction, “he manages some bands at Starcourt.”

You can feel your face twist in confusion before you quickly temper your features and rise to introduce yourself.

Hopper takes your small hand in his comically large one and shakes it hard before sitting down next to Murray.

You watch as your new lunch companion flags down a server to order a double scotch, your mind buzzing to put the pieces together. What the hell was going on?

Hopper and Murray turn to you in tandem, reminding you of parents on sitcom TV.

Murray starts keeping his voice low, “The label thinks that you make the most money when you’re singing with others and causing some buzz. Since you made it very clear that duets are no longer an option for you, we came up with another solution.”

“I manage a band,” Hopper says then, “they’re talented but they’re newer and still trying to figure out their image and sound. We think you would be a good addition.”

This last part comes slowly, as your lunch companions try to gauge your reaction. “You want me to join a band?” You repeat, stunned. “Why?”

“As I said, they need help establishing a brand, a reputation, and that’s something that you have plenty of—“ Murray snorts “— plus, they need a solid songwriter and Murray tells me that’s you.”

Your eyes volley between the two men in front of you, trying to figure out what the catch is. There’s always a catch.

It’s like they can sense what you’re thinking because they lock eyes, and Murray sighs, “And it just so happens that they have a very handsome male lead singer and maybe part of the deal would include a bit of a front-facing, romantic narrative that would entice the public to buy your albums and go to your shows.”

“You want me to pretend to be in a relationship with some guy in a band so people buy our music? That’s your great plan?

“I’ve proved myself, Murray. I’ve done everything that’s been asked of me. I sang your stupid duets and recorded that vapid EP. Are you just going to string me along forever, asking me to do stupider and stupider stunts?”

You stand and swing your arm back to grab the purse hanging from your chair. The two men mirror your movement and suddenly it feels like you’re in a stand-off.

“It’s not stupid,” Hopper says, matter-of-factly, “and we do believe in your talent, but it’s not just about talent anymore, it’s about image and it’s about what sells. Scandal sells. Look, you’re a talented kid, everyone knows that. But, talent isn’t what sells anymore. People want something to gossip about and you’ve already given them that.

“This is not some hair-brain scheme Murray and I cooked up in the fucking restroom between lines. This is years of marketing research and scouting to get the perfect combination of talent. You should consider yourself lucky that Starcourt— that Brenner, personally— picked you out of thousands to execute his little pet experiment.

“They’re going to talk about you anyway, why not have a little control over what they say? It beats them calling you a slut, doesn’t it?” 

You glare at Hopper as he’s towering over you.

“Listen kiddo,” purrs Murray, sliding into a different approach, “we’re not asking you to marry the guy. Just, have lunch with them and maybe we get you featured on their first LP, do them a favor like The Letterman’s did for you when you were just getting started, huh?

“Plus, the guy’s handsome, like total frontman full-package, so, who knows, maybe he’s your type and you won’t have to pretend!”

Murray guffaws at this like it’s the funniest joke in the world.

“Fine,” you say, your mouth pitching down in a scowl, before haughtily dropping back into your chair. They follow suit.

“One lunch, but you—“ your finger waves at Murray “—are gonna get me on the list for a cottage at the Mormont and you—“ you pivot to point at Hopper “—are getting me a French 75.”

“Please,” you add after a beat.

The two men exchange a look and Hopper rolls his eyes and stands.

“Was gonna get me another scotch anyway,” he grumbles before ambling over to the bar.

While Hopper is at the bar, Murray fills you in with as many details as possible: the band’s name (“The Downsides”), the lead singer’s name (“Steve Something”), and the rest of the band members’ names (“Johnny, Natalie, Robin, Ed... maybe?...and Argyle, no wait, that’s not a name”).

As if on cue, just as Hopper approaches the table from one side, a motley bunch of individuals, that you know have to be The Downsides, file into the restaurant. Hopper waves at them and they walk over, in a single line, all following their big-haired leader.

“These misfit toys are the band?” you snark to no one in particular and Murray shoots you a warning glare before waving at them with feigned enthusiasm.

Hopper reaches the table before they do and hands you your drink while announcing your name to the band. 

You smile in a practiced, charming way.

“Hi, you must be Steve,” you say rising to greet the tall, slender man with a mane of wild hair. Admittedly, he is much more hard-edged than you had imagined, decked out in leather and hardware with thick, silver rings adorning his fingers. Maybe this is what Hopper meant when he said the band needed help with their image--this guy was far too metal to ever break it into the mainstream.

He burst into laughs and then bumps his fist into the shoulder of the guy standing next to him, another long-haired man whose eyes were rimmed red.  

“Did you hear that, she thought I was Harrington! Buckley, come here, she thought I was Harrington!”

Your face flushes in embarrassment and you wince. So, that was not Steve.

“Hi, I’m Nancy Wheeler,” a voice says softly at your side. You turn and find yourself facing a pretty, doe-eyed girl probably around your age. The gentleness in her voice lets you know that she had witnessed your embarrassment at the hands of Not!Steve and she was trying to smooth things over, and make a good impression.

After Nancy, you shake hands with the bouncy, sometimes-bass-sometimes-brass-sometimes-synth player Robin Buckley and the shy-bordering-on-morose guitarist Jonathan Byers. The spaced-out drummer with the long locks is Argyle and Not!Steve’s name is actually Eddie Munson, which you learn only from Robin and Nancy as he doesn't bother to introduce himself. He looks vaguely familiar, but then again, everyone at Starcourt does. 

He catches you staring at him and shoots you a mocking wink. You want to scowl back, maybe even flip him off but you are too aware of how that moment, snapped by a paparazzi and sold to a gossip rag, could impact your already- precarious public image. So, instead, you raise a glass in response.

“Where the hell is Harrington?” Hopper barks at the group once they had settled. “He needed to park the car,” explains Jonathan.

“Park? Why would he need to do that?” You ask, “this place has a valet.”

An awkward silence blanketed the group as they all looked at you and then exchanged amongst themselves. You were under the impression you had just said something wrong and you weren’t sure what. 

Before you have the chance to smooth things over, the group is interrupted.

“Sorry, I’m late everyone, parking here is terrible.”

Oh, so that’s what Murray meant by ‘full frontman package’.

Steve Harrington was tall and leanly muscular with a face as sharp and bright as a jewel and hair graceful and tousled.

His eyes land on yours and your shoulders straighten with a jolt.

“Hi,” he breathes, “I’m Steve. Uh, Harrington.” 

“Hi,” you all but sigh back, an unfamiliar warmth moving up your cheeks. 

***

ROBIN: Steve “Loverboy” Harrington. He used to fall in love like three times a week back in the day. Everyone at the table could tell he was immediately smitten with her though. I mean who could blame him? She was like distractingly gorgeous. I’m pretty sure I spilled soup in my lap from staring at her. More than once. Steve spent most of the lunch making eyes at her and the crazy part was, I think she was into him! Honestly, I thought he was getting ready to propose. Until Hopper told us all why he’d really brought us there. 

***

“What? No way, Hops, we’re not adding another person to the band. Plus, we already have a lead singer—me.” Steve’s whole demeanor changed once Hopper started talking shop—he had gone from smiling flirtatiously at you from across the table to huffing like a petulant child. 

“It’s just a feature on one song, kid. If it goes well then we’ll revisit and if it doesn’t well, we better hope the rest of the album is pure gold because Brenner really wants this to go well,” Hopper tries to assuage. 

“This is never gonna work,” Steve spits out, “she doesn’t match our sound at all. Or our vibe—we have, like, substance.” 

The table goes standstill quiet upon hearing this. The only noise you hear is what you think is Robin kicking Steve under the table. 

 Steve turns to you after a beat and says, “No offense,” with a dismissive shrug. 

***

NANCY: Steve has always had a habit of putting his foot in his mouth at the worst times. He didn’t mean to come off as an ass, I don’t think, it was probably his way of lashing out against all the change that was happening without our input. First Eddie, now this, he probably felt so out of control he—I think we all did. He still shouldn’t have said it though. 

ROBIN: Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

***

All eyes land on you, awaiting the imminent explosion. 

It never comes. 

Instead, you school your features into a neutrally pleasant expression—you never know where there’ll be a camera after all—and respond sweetly, “None taken. You’re right to not want me on your track. After all, I've only had like, 6 Top 10 Singles in the last year which is nothing compared to your…wait how many have you had, again?” 

Steve’s face falls as Murray chortles from the other end of the table. 

***

NANCY: It wasn’t the nicest way to put it but it wasn’t like she had been unprovoked. Steve needed a reality check. 

ROBIN: I mean, she had a point. She was doing us a favor by recording the track with us. Dingus just needed to get over himself. 

The rest of the lunch was super awkward, in case you were wondering. She was still nice to the rest of us, but she barely acknowledged Steve, or Eddie for the matter. 

If you would’ve told me then what would eventually become of those three—ha!—I would’ve said you were insane. 

STEVE: Yeah, I know I had fucked up. Like, as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. I don’t know why I did it, I think I felt threatened or something. Listen, I think about what happened all the time and there isn’t one singular moment that we can pinpoint where everything went south, really, we all made mistakes, a lot of them. But sometimes, I can’t help thinking to myself that if I had just handled that day at the restaurant better, our whole lives would’ve been different. Or… who knows? Maybe not, maybe we were always meant to end as bad as we did.

***

June 7th, 1983–Los Angeles, California

A few days after your lunch with the Downsides, you see your own face peaking at you from the cover of a Subrosa magazine on a grocery store newsstand. 

You glance around before surreptitiously crouching down for a closer look.

It was a grainy picture of you and Steve, sitting across from one another at lunch, clearly in conversation. The picture had been taken from outside the restaurant and framed in such a way that it looked like it was only the two of you dining together. You can tell by the looks on your faces that it was before everything had blown up—the two of you looked like you were enjoying yourselves.

Sultry Songstress Sees Upside with the Downsides’ Flirty Frontman reads across the top of the page, and you gag. They sure do love their alliteration over at the Sub.

You briefly wonder to yourself what Steve and the others will think of this once they see it. Shrugging that thought off, you toss the magazine into your cart.

***

You actually find out pretty quickly what Steve and the others think about the cover later that evening when you receive a call from an unknown number.

“Hi, it’s Robin,” you hear from the other line as soon as you pick up.

“Hi Ro—”

“Robin Buckley, from the Downsides? I don’t know if you remember me, but we met at lunch the other day when my friend made a huge ass of himself and— ow, Steve that hurt, God.”

Sounds of some sort of physical struggle echo through the telephone line until you decide to interrupt.

“Hi Robin, of course I remember you and your ass of a friend, what can I do for the two of you? Also, how did you get my number?”

You’re more curious than bothered when you ask the latter question.

“Four.”

“Pardon?”

“Four. There are four of us. See, you asked what you could do for the two of us but it’s not just me and Steve. Nancy and Argyle are here too—” At this point, you hear a faint ‘hello’ and ‘what’s up’ from the background—"For the sake of full disclosure I felt that I should mention that. Jonathan is visiting his family in Lenora Hills, otherwise, I’m sure he’d be here too. Oh, and to answer your question I got your number from Murray.”

“Uh-huh.” 

You glance at your wristwatch; there’s a party in the Hills that you were planning on going to and you were going to have to leave soon if you didn’t want to be stuck in traffic all night.

As if she had read your mind, you hear some shuffling on the line before Nancy decidedly takes over the conversation with a much more serious tone.

“Hi, sorry to bother you this late but we wanted to ask if perhaps you had seen the latest issue of Subrosa? It seems like you and Steve are on the cover.”

Exhaling a laugh, you answer, “Yes, actually, saw it at the grocery store today, sorry you guys didn’t make the front page, I’m sure you’ll get them next time.”

“What? No, I mean, have you read the article? They’re printing lies about you both,” Nancy stutters out, indignantly.

“They’re saying that you and Steve had a private lunch and that he’s been seen sneaking out of the Hotel Mormont for weeks and that you might be pregnant? They’re even alluding to a fight breaking out between him and Jason Carver of all people.”

 This causes you to fully chortle.

“I wish, that guy deserves a few punches to the face. I wouldn’t worry too much about it, though, everything they say about me is a lie.”

“What do you mean? Aren’t they supposed to have some journalistic integrity? Don’t they get in trouble for printing lies like this? Have you tried to contact their editors about this?”

The confusion you feel about this conversation is outweighed by how weirdly touched you feel that these girls who had only met you once seem so offended on your behalf.

“No, I mean, it’s a gossip rag, not like The New York Times or anything,” you placate, “and after all the terrible things they’ve said about in the past, I’m kinda just glad they got a half-decent picture of me.  I appreciate you all calling about it though.”

And then, after a beat, you address the band’s lead singer, who has been oddly quiet throughout the whole exchange.

“I hope being pictured with me didn’t sully your reputation, Flirty Frontman.”

Really, you didn’t care if Steve was bothered by the whole thing, you just hoped that he wasn’t making his bandmates call you on his behalf. You didn’t know what to make of the guy quite yet. On one hand, he was completely sweet to you most of the lunch, he spent the meal asking you questions about yourself and refilling your drink without you having to ask. But the tantrum he had thrown reminded you a little too much of the dangerously self-absorbed musicians that had grown sick of these last few years.

“Me? No, I’m fine. Did you see how great my hair looked?”

You laugh silently at his answer. His hair did look great in the photo, but you were not about to give him the satisfaction of letting him hear that from you.

He continues, “Plus, they never really said anything terrible about me. They’re like, totally after you which is why Nance and Rob have been so worried, I guess. Are you good?”

His question comes out more hushed than everything else he’s said, and you are once again reminded of the earnest smiles you exchanged across the table a few days ago.

“I’m fine, Harrington, this is a regular Tuesday for me.”

With that, you bid goodbye to the band, citing your lateness, but not before expressing a very sincere thanks for their naïve concern.

The unexpected phone call makes you hit traffic, as you had predicted. You spend nearly an hour and a half in the back of a cab, the whole time, you can’t stop replaying the conversation you just had in your head.

Maybe there was more to the Downsides than met the eye?

***

This theory is proven, in part, after Hopper sends you a demo recording of some of their songs the following week.  

The Downsides, you quickly find out, are good, like very good. Their music is like nothing you’d ever heard before: experimental and fun but polished and very technically sound. Steve’s vocals are annoyingly impressive—his growly timbre grounding the lighter sound and keeping it from sounding too saccharine. You can see them dominating the charts and blowing The Letterman’s and every other one-trick band out of the water.

The track they wanted you to jump on was part of the demos Hopper had sent out. It was called “Feel It”, a romantic song, tinged with melancholy but paired with an upbeat synth sound.

You had been sent a copy of the lyrics that included a cue for you to come in.

You practiced your part for days, agonizing over how you wanted to deliver the lyrics, and eventually, you came up with exactly what you wanted to do after making some minor adjustments.

You were actually excited to record the song until you remembered that you would have to come face-to-face with the band’s two asshole guitarists again.

On the day of the recording, you tried your best to be early, but you had been up tossing all night which caused you to oversleep then you lost your keys, and you were moving at the time, so your things were all over the place. You also had to turn around and come back when you realized you had forgotten the gift basket of cookies you were planning on bringing for the band—something left over from a package Charles Riva's team sent you as an apology for him blowing you off. All in all, you were about thirty minutes late.

You pulled into the Starcourt parking lot a harried mess and as you rounded the corner into the studio, you could hear the booming voice of Eddie Munson.

“She’s probably stuck circling the parking lot trying to find some working-class sucker to park her car. Harrington, why don’t you go check out there? Maybe you’ll get papped again and get another 5 minutes of fame.”

You hear Steve respond and while you can’t make out the words, you can tell he’s annoyed, embarrassed, or possibly both.

You can see the faces of every other band member fall like dominos as they each caught sight of you rounding the corner to stand directly behind Eddie.

Eddie though doesn’t seem to pick up on what’s clearly written on all their faces and persists through his tirade, “She’s only coming for the photo opp anyway—she doesn’t care about any of this.”

It’s Argyle who finds his voice first, “Eddie, man, isn’t that her?”

Eddie whips around and with comically wide eyes, looks down at you, grimacing.

You consider telling the guy off but decide against it.

If there is one thing you have learned these years it’s that while the male artists can throw fits, yell, scream, and even damage equipment without anyone as much as blinking an eye, one emotional misstep from you and you would be branded a diva. They would say you were difficult, rude, and find any excuse to toss you aside like they had so many women before you and you refused to let them have that satisfaction.

So, instead, you smile at the band, eyes lingering on Eddie for just a moment longer than on anybody else, to let him know that you had heard him, and then say brightly, “Sorry I’m late everybody. I brought some cookies.”

***

EDDIE: Yeah, it was a dick thing to say, and I regretted it immediately and not just because she brought us cookies.

I wasn’t—that wasn’t me.

I was just so angry about everything that I had lost, and I didn’t know where to put it all and then she shows up: this rich, spoiled girl who just seemed to float through life without a single fucking care or struggle, and suddenly I had an easy target.

I felt bad about it until she changed my fucking lyrics.

***

Unlike their guitarists, most of the band seemed pleased to see you and you spent a few minutes greeting everyone and handing around cookies while Eddie and Steve kept their respective distances—Eddie, sulking in a corner and Steve doing a poor job at pretending to tune his guitar.

“Okay kids let’s give the voices some space to do their thing,” Hopper says waving them through the door sounding more like a disgruntled parent than a manager.

In the end, it’s just you, Steve, Murray, and the sound booth tech. The latter two are busy prepping the sound and mic, leaving you and Steve standing in the back.

“Hey, I wanted to apologize about what I said the other day at lunch,” he leans in close to your ear, his eyes transfixed on his shoes.

“I didn’t mean it—not really. I guess I was just lashing out because, well, they keep changing things about the band without even talking to us. First, they made us go pop, then they made me give up lead guitar to Eddie because his previous band didn’t want him anymore, and then it seemed like they wanted to replace me with you and like, it’s not that I wouldn’t want you it’s just that—well they never even asked what we wanted, you know? I was frustrated about that, and I took it out on you and I’m sorry about that.”

You watch him as he digs the toe of his sneaker into the carpet, eyes downcast, clearly waiting for you to respond. You’re too busy contemplating his words, however, because an apology was the last thing you were expecting from him, much less such a sincere one.

Out of all the difficult men you had dealt with in your life—producers, musicians, lawyers, managers, former flings, hell, even your own father—you had never received an apology from any of them regardless of how poorly they’d treated you.

Steve’s eyes finally trail up to meet yours, searching your face for signs that he didn’t say the wrong thing yet again.

Seeing no trace of dishonesty on Steve’s face, you decide to trust the apology for what it is and nod in acceptance.

“I get it,” you say, and truly, you did, “I’ve had most of my career decisions made for me, and a lot of times, they weren’t really what I wanted. It makes the whole thing feel kind of…empty, doesn’t it?”

His face floods with relief as he nods along in understanding.

“Yeah, like does success matter if we can’t do things our way? Me and Rob, we’ve been best friends since we were little and this has always been our dream and now that it may be coming true, it doesn’t feel like we imagined. I guess that’s kinda stupid though, expecting things to be like you imagined them as a kid,” he laughs at himself nervously.

“No, it’s not,” you counter, “that’s not stupid at all.”

You understand Steve’s disillusionment completely because it mirrors your own.

“Listen, I get how you feel, trust me, but you got to keep going. You guys are good, and I think you could all be big one day and then it’ll be you who’s calling the shots and then you can kick me and Eddie to the curb,” you clearly say the last part in jest but that doesn’t stop the shame that rolls across Steve’s face.

“Hey, don’t say that. You’re really talented and we’re lucky that you’re doing us this favor. We’d be even luckier if we could get you to stick around. Munson I could give or take, though.”

His joke makes you laugh so loud that Murray turns around and glares.

***

Steve was sent into the booth first to record his final vocals for the song, leaving you to observe.

As they set Steve up, your eyes kept bouncing over to the newly appeared Eddie, trying to figure out what exactly he was doing there.

“I wrote the song,” Eddie explains, after catching your eye.

“Oh,” you say, not bothering enough to hide your surprise, “well, congratulations, it’s a good song.”

You catch him eyeing the plate of cookies at your side. You open your mouth to offer him a cookie, but the echo of his words rings fresh in your mind, so instead, you reach for one and make a big show of savoring it.

Steve records his part of the vocals in five takes. He appears a bit nervous at first but eases into his groove rather quickly.

As the audio engineer is setting up the booth for you, you feel your own nerves rise. You wanted this to go well. You wanted to impress Steve and Hopper and even Eddie.

They signal you into the booth and the first two times, you record the song exactly how it’s written. Then, on the third one, you switch up the final chorus.

The original lyrics were: Fear in your heart, can’t conceal it/ But baby, my loves your cure, can’t you feel it? / Lay your hope bare next to mine/ and even if the world caves in, we’ll be fine

You changed the lyrics to: Fear in your heart, can’t conceal it/ But baby, my loves your cure, can’t you feel it? / Lay your flaws bare next to mine/ because when the world caves in, I’ll leave you cryin’

The change was slight, you thought, but meaningful.

The original version—Eddie’s version—was too hopeful. It was a boring portrayal of lovers staying with each other through thick and thin.

Your change added some conflict and dimension to the narrative. You made it better.

“What the hell was that?” Eddie pushed past Murray to yell into the mic that fed into the booth.

You roll your eyes at him dramatically interrupting your take, “I was just trying something out.”

Hopper pulled Eddie back by the shoulder while Murray wrestled the mic from him.

“Woah, sweetheart, pump the breaks. That was good. Better than the original. Can we run that one more time but with your lyrics instead? Harrington, we’ll re-record some of your parts too.”

Hopper has to all but carry Eddie out the door after he hears that.

***

EDDIE: The thing that pissed me off the most was that her version of the song was better. I just didn’t want to admit it because I wrote that song about Chrissy, about how even though I was so scared I was going to fuck up our relationship, she understood that and was willing to work through that with me. Her version was much closer to what actually happened and that hit a little too close to home.

***

“Woah, what did you two do to Eddie?” Robin demands as soon as you and Steve are dismissed into the hallway. “Hopper pretty much had to drag him out in tears!”

You worry at your bottom lip, caught in the wondering eyes of the group. At the time, you felt like you were doing the right thing, but now you wonder if you had forgone the common courtesy of at least letting him know you had changed the song. You didn’t want to come across as unprofessional as he accused you of being.

“I should probably go talk to him,” you say in response.

“Geez, Robin. Was the third degree really necessary there? This is just like last week’s DMV visit all over again,” Steve chastises as they all watch you walk away.

***

You find Eddie in the smoking area, cigarette in hand. “Hey, listen can we talk—"

Eddie turns dangerously to face you, cutting you off.

“You know what your fucking problem is? No one’s ever said no to you so you think you can do whatever the hell you want and that everyone else just rolls over and gives it to you because you’re so pretty and charming and rich.

“Well, you may have the rest of those assholes fooled but I see right through you, okay?”

Your eyes narrowed in response before you snap back.

"First of all, you don't know anything about me, so stop pretending that you do. I have worked hard to be here, just like the rest of you, and as far as this song goes, my name is going to be attached to it too, so I have just as much of a right to give input as you or Steve. It was wrong that I didn't say anything to you beforehand, sure, and I apologize for that, but let's not pretend that you've been the epitome of professionalism here either because you've been an ass to me since we've met, and I don't know why but I won't stand for it again. Fuck you, Eddie Munson,” you spit out before turning on your heel and stomping away.

***

EDDIE: That was hot, not gonna lie.

***

“Are you really going to let some mangy metalhead from Bumfuck, Nowhere keep you from finally doing what you want?” Murray asks exasperatedly when you call him to complain about the exchange later that night.

“Listen, I’ve recorded a lot of songs in that studio, some of them great, most of them mediocre, but today blew all of them out of the water. The band’s never sounded better and neither have you, frankly. If you gave up the chance to finally write your own songs and sound this good while doing it, that would be flat-out idiotic. You know that, right?”

The line goes still.

“Yes,” you finally say.

“Great, now that that’s settled, why don’t you get some rest, huh? Ruining Muson’s day must have tired you right out.”

You exhale a laugh before saying goodbye.

Although you would never say it to his face, you were grateful for Murray. It was nice having someone looking out for you.

***

MURRAY:  Brenner loved the track. After that, we had a very short time to make a lot of big things happen. The Downside’s debut album was already 70% recorded, but now that we had a whole other person on vocals, we had to scrap a good portion of the work they had already done and rerecord with our new vocalist. We couldn’t even celebrate our victory because we were just getting started.

Those poor kids had no clue what was coming.

***

When your phone rings a few mornings later, you suspect it’s Murray again with an update on the song, and while you’re right about the message, you’re wrong about the messenger. 

“Hi, it’s Steve, uh, Harrington. Obviously,” you hear a familiar voice crackle over the line.

“Oh? And to what do I owe the honor Mr. Obviously?” you respond.

“Oh, very funny. Listen, I wanted to call and let you know that we just heard from Hopper that Brenner and his guys liked our song, and they want us to continue, you know… recording together and stuff. So, yeah, would that be something you’re interested in… being a part of, you know, the band?” his voice wavers a bit as he asks.

“Is that even a choice?” you fire back, “I was under the impression that once Brenner gave the go-ahead, it was pretty much a done deal.”

He clears his throat in response, “I think you deserve to have a choice. I talked to the rest of the band, and they agree and if you don’t want in, we’ll back you… even if that means breaking our Starcourt contract.”

The line goes silent as you contemplate the gravity of what Steve has just said. The Downsides would be willing to put their own career at risk just to assure you the luxury of choice.

The answer was easy after that.

“I’m in,” you say after a few moments of terse silence. “I want to be a part of the band.”

You can all but see Steve pumping his fist on the other side of the line.

“That’s great! That’s great news. I’m glad my asshole tendencies didn’t put you off,” he laughs, relieved.

“I mean, it was a tough sell,” you tease back, “but I think we can be good together. The band, I mean.”

You wonder if you’ve said the wrong thing when his joyous peals of laughter stop suddenly at your words.

“Actually, um, about that,” he begins, once again nervously, “I’m really grateful that you’re giving us—the band—a chance and that you were nice enough to record the single with us in the first place. And, I mean, I know I’m already pushing my luck with the universe and you but maybe—uh, maybe today it’s my turn to be the luckiest guy in the world? Who knows?”

You have absolutely no clue what he’s getting at, and you let him know as much.

“Right, hm, I was wondering if I could take you out, on a date, to celebrate us becoming a band but also like, you know, a date. I know I made a total ass of myself, but I really like you, and I think you're gorgeous and talented and smart. I know I may not deserve another shot, but I would love it if you gave me one.”

You’re at a loss for words. First, you’re not even sure if you want to trust Steve fully, not quite yet. Sure, he apologized, but a part of you wonders if he only did it to get on your good side once he had seen how your pre-established infamy could serve him after that Subrosa article ran. Murray mentioned how radio runtime for the few EP songs The Downsides had in the rotation tripled since the publication. It definitely wouldn’t have been the first time you were being used like this.

Even if you could find it in yourself to look past that (and who knows, maybe you could?) there was still the matter of what Murray and Hopper had so delicately mentioned that day at lunch.

“I’m sorry, Steve, I don’t think that would be very professional. Especially on account of our…  front-facing, romantic narrative.”

“Our what?”

***

MURRAY: I thought that Hopper had gotten his team on the same page about the more personal aspects of the band’s arrangement, but apparently, I was wrong. None of them had any clue what was going on and the thing about running a ruse is that people that are in on it kind of have to know that they’re in on it.

A few days before we began re-recording, the girl called me all in a tizzy because she accidentally spilled the beans, not knowing that Harrington had no clue at all about the plan.

I then call Hopper; it turns into this whole thing. We had to arrange an emergency meeting with the two of them and the entire legal team.

A bit slow on the uptake, that Harrington kid, but he got there. Eventually.

He was harder to convince than the girl, though. At least she didn’t have a problem with lying to the public. But Harrington was all about that Midwestern “integrity” and “letting the music speak for itself”. Hop eventually had to spell it out real simple for him: either they do this, or the entire band was cooked.

STEVE: I guess after like 15 years the ruse is finally up, huh? Yeah, the relationship was fake. Or, at least, it started out that way. Listen, it was complicated and we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

But, if you’re asking about what I was thinking when they finally told me their plan, well, I wasn’t happy or on board at all. It felt like we had already given up so much of ourselves for this—like, where do you draw the line, you know?

But then Hopper reminded me that it wasn’t all about me: Nancy had dropped out of college to be in the band, Jonathan…he had his sick little brother to take care of, and even Munson was going to be in trouble if he didn’t fulfill his contract with Starcourt.

It was selfish to say no, in my opinion. And really, what was I losing? I got to make music for a living and parade around, pretending to date a total hottie while doing it. I mean, the only way it could’ve gotten better was if the relationship had been real.

***

After what feels like days—but is most likely hours—with the Starcourt legal team, you and Steve are finally released with a very long grocery list of instructions that include a minimum number of required public appearances; a very specific list of acceptable PDA; and interestingly, enough, a sample NDA in case either of you wanted to “be involved” with anyone on the side.

“Nothing says romance like NDA, right?” you weakly joke in an attempt to break the ice.

“How are you so okay with this?” Steve shoots back, seemingly stunned.

“Well, it’s not like this is my first rodeo, or my fourth, or my sixth.”

And before he can question further, you tell him everything, starting with Jason fucking Carver.

***

STEVE: I couldn’t believe it. They had been forcing her to pretend to be involved with all these guys for years. It was super fucked up, but she stuck with it. That’s how much she wanted it. How could I possibly let her down after that? Especially with my own selfish, dumb feelings? She was right, we needed to keep it professional, no matter how hard that was going to be for me.

***

JONATHAN:  Jonathan Byers, bassist and guitarist for the Downsides. never wanted to be famous, I just wanted to play music and make enough money to support my family. I could do all of that and more with The Downsides.

I felt like the luckiest guy in the world then. We were finally starting to see some stability as a band and even though things weren’t exactly as we expected, things were good. I mean we were making music we loved with people we liked—back when we all still liked each other.

***

October 1983—Los Angeles, California

As the studio had predicted, the band’s single was a total hit, as were you and Steve in the press. The gamble Starcourt was starting to pay off.

Everyone was more relieved than happy about that news.

What followed was a few grueling weeks of rerecording the band’s nearly completed album while also strategically traipsing arm-in-arm with Steve around every romantic spot in Hollywood trying to bait the paparazzi.

Things had finally slowed down a bit since the album was in post-production, but Starcourt still had you on a tight schedule. You had transitioned into rehearsing for the band’s upcoming tour. That’s how certain Startcourt was that the Downsides were going to be a success—you were rehearsing for a tour that hadn’t even been announced yet for an album that hadn’t even been released.

You try not to think about what it would mean if the band didn’t meet the label’s expectations. Instead, you focus on figuring out how to adapt to the band you’re now a part of.

The obvious lack of familiarity between all of you was not as pronounced when you were re-recording in the studio, now that you’re all rehearsing together, it is impossible to ignore. The original members of the band share a bond that keeps them incredibly in sync, oftentimes leaving you and Eddie struggling both on and off the stage. You’ve been working to adapt though, and you’ve made progress, sometimes you’re even close to feeling like the band has accepted you as one of their own. But then something will happen that will leave you feeling like an outsider once more.

***

The last thing a hungover you needs to see at seven in the morning is a Subrosa article questioning your moral character and calling you a man-eater. The universe—in the form of one Nancy Wheeler—has a different idea.

“Have you seen this?” the keyboardist asks, indignation coloring her tone, as she slings the offending publication across your lap.

You hadn’t seen it, in fact, but one look at the grainy picture of you and Steve and you can assume what the article says.

You sigh tiredly in response, “Honestly Nancy, you shouldn’t pay attention to this shit. I don’t know why you let it bother you so much.”

“It’s just so unfair that they’re singing Steve’s praises and are still dragging you through the mud, even though you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Exactly, there’s no winning with them, not for me. So why don’t we just say fuck them and do whatever we want?” You find it in yourself to waggle your eyebrows playfully at her earning a giggle from the otherwise serious girl.

You catch Eddie watching your exchange from across the large warehouse that is serving as the band’s rehearsal space with a curious amount of interest.

The two of you have barely spoken since your row outside of Starcourt. It’s not like you’re missing out on much though, since Eddie barely interacts with the band beyond rehearsal which makes his apparent engagement with your conversation unusual. Eddie, realizing he’s been caught staring, opens his mouth to say something but is quickly interrupted by a very late Steve and Robin.

“Hey, have you seen the latest issue of Subrosa?” Steve asks, harried and out of breath.

You try not to think about the fact that this is the third time this week that the two of them have shown up together and late.

“Yes, we were just talking about it, which you would’ve known if the two of you were on time for once,” Nancy jabs back with no real heat, just the annoyance of an older sister chastising her siblings.

“Hey, don’t blame me, Robin wanted to—” he stops short as soon as his eyes land on you and coughs awkwardly.

“I wanted to stop by the post office,” Robin rushes to say. “It’s Bastille Day and I needed to send a card to my French pen pal, Celine in honor of the occasion.”

“Isn’t Bastille Day in July?” You ask Robin.

She flushes scarlet. “Right, exactly, that’s why this is so important, my card was already like three months late. You know how French people are about punctuality.”

She then exchanges a meaningful glance with Steve and Nancy who seem to be having their own sort of conversation consisting solely of glances and eyebrow movement.

“Fine, whatever,” Nancy exhales after a few terse moments of silent communication, “let’s just start please.”

She stands and the others follow suit. You, however, remain sat, trying to figure out what exactly had just happened.

Steve, sensing you hadn’t moved, turns to throw you an apologetic look over his shoulder before beaconing gently with a nod of his head. You sigh but join him, nonetheless.

This happens a lot.

***

JONATHAN: When the whole staged relationship thing first started, I don’t think any of us had any idea what that meant.  I mean, sure, it started out as the gimmick that got us through the door but it soon became something bigger than that. Their relationship was synonymous with the band and it's success and I'm sure that resulted in a lot of pressure. 

I think for the two of them, though, the most difficult part was trying to keep things professional, especially when other people began to get involved.

***

None of the personal dynamics mattered when you were all playing together.

What you loved most about your bandmates was that they cared about the music just as much as you did. That had become clear from the very first rehearsal and even now, nearly a month in, you’re still in awe watching them all perform alongside you.

 Prim, soft-spoken Nancy turned into a wild thing on the keyboard, her whole body moving with the music, fingers flying over the keys like it was nothing. Ever the perfectionist, she would never miss a note, and on the off chance that she did, curse words you had never heard before streamed out of her mouth, causing your eyes to go wide every time.

Jonathan, too, became something else: full of bravado and fire, hair swinging wildly and even jumping around on stage. His playing had a smoothness to it, he knew when to show restraint and let someone else shine and when to bring it himself.

Argyle and Robin were the biggest transformations, though. Gone was goofy and easy-going Argyle the person and all that was left behind was the laser-focused drummer, who seemed to move on instinct to create a strong musical foundation for the rest of you. Robin, who normally was a bit erratic and all over the place, became the self-assured, quick-thinking driving force behind the band. It was like she knew exactly how the song needed to sound and what each person needed to bring to get there. She was the first to let anyone know there was something amiss and no one took it the wrong way because she was rarely wrong.

Steve and Eddie were exactly what you had expected, however, what you did not expect was how alike they would be. They both moved gracefully and with careless precision. Showmen in equal measures.

Once you had familiarized yourself with your bandmates, figuring out how you fit into the band’s onstage dynamic was easy.

Off-stage was a whole different story.

***

JONATHAN: I mean, yeah, I think it was natural that there was a bit of a divide in those early days between the ‘original’ band and our two new members. It’s not for lack of trying though, it’s just, well the five of us lived in a house together and had known each other for years, it was probably kinda intimidating trying to jump into that dynamic. I also got the feeling that the other two weren’t really used to having friends. They both seemed to have their guards up in their own way.

With her you could tell she was holding back, almost like she was afraid of doing the wrong thing and well, with Eddie… you know how he is.

I think it was that feeling of sort of being on the outside that first drew them together, honestly.

***

Your eyes scan over the small craft services area that makes up part of your rehearsal space. Most of the band starts at one table, chatting amiably over lunch. Before you can even take a step in their direction, though, your eyes zero in on Steve and Robin, whose heads are bent, close together, whispering to one another intimately and you falter.

As much as you enjoyed Robin and Steve individually, watching them interact with one another often stoked an aching loneliness in you that you struggled to put out and the more time you spent with them only made it worse. After six weeks, you were worn thin.

Deciding that you’d rather not foster any unearned feelings, you turn to the only other table where Eddie is sitting alone bent over a thick paperback.

Trying to play it as cool as you can, you reach inside your bag to pull out your own book, and casually sit down across from the long-haired boy.

He stares you down. You raise an eyebrow in response.

“Didn’t know you could read,” he says casually.

“Funny, I was just about to say the same thing about you,” you shoot back with no real bite.

He chuckles to himself, seemingly impressed before gesturing to your book. 

“Didn’t peg you for a Baldwin type either,” Eddie says, eyes scanning the cover of your book.

You shrug, noncommittally, “I found a copy Beal Street sitting with a bunch of junk on my neighbor’s curb and I’ve been a fan since.”

He barks out a laugh so loud it catches everyone’s attention.

Conversation halts and you feel your bandmates’ curious gazes fall on you all at once.

“Forgive me, princess, but I have a hard time imagining you digging through other people's trash for books from what I know of you.”

“And what do you know about me, Eddie? I mean, other than the stuff Subrosa prints.”

His face falls in response.

The two of you spend the rest of your lunch in silence, pretending not to notice the way everyone else is staring.

***

JONATHAN: They ate lunch together every day after that, barely talking, reading their books.  I don’t think they were friends or anything, but I did see them exchange books a few times.

It did stress Nancy out, I think, the divide. It made her think we weren’t doing enough to be “welcoming” to them. Argyle and I didn’t really care, and Robin was dealing with her on shit at the time.

***

ROBIN : Yeah, I was seeing this girl, and I was trying to keep it under wraps from well… everyone actually. Steve was a really great friend though; he would always give me rides to and from her place when I needed them.

***

JONATHAN: ...a nd Steve liked to pretend that he didn’t care but he definitely did.

ROBIN: Of course, Steve cared, are you kidding?

NANCY: We could tell it bothered him.

STEVE : Did I care that she was eating lunch with Munson and kept avoiding me outside of rehearsal? No! Of course not.

***

November 1983, Los Angeles, California

The Downsides’ debut album was released on November 6, 1983, to commercial and critical success.

People immediately took to the upbeat synth sound paired with the introspective and clever lyrics. On top of that, you and Steve were, quite literally the talk of the town.

There were entire articles in gossip magazines dedicated to parsing out details of your relationship from the song lyrics on the album and coming up with theories about what the lyrics were about.

And all of that just from a few pictures of you two holding hands. Starcourt was ecstatic, they had bottled magic.

As much as everyone wanted to celebrate, you weren’t out of the woods yet, there were still the press junkets.

A growing list of TV and radio appearances that the band was required to be at plagued Hopper who was tasked with making sure you were all present and willing at these appearances. And of course, that you didn’t make fools of yourselves or Starcourt.

The label had taken it upon itself to send everyone PR briefings—essentially a long list of things no one should say under any circumstances during interviews.

Normally, you would think a list like this was overkill but knowing some of your bandmates, it was definitely needed.

All the eyes (and the pressure) would be on you and Steve, though, everyone knew that. You two were the ‘It Couple’ everyone wanted to hear from, and you weren’t quite sure what you were going to say.

The pap photos were easy: it was just walking around or sometimes getting lunch, holding hands, and looking like you were enjoying each other’s company. Something that wasn’t difficult since conversation flowed easily between the two of you.  At first, you would talk music—Steve was incredibly dedicated and knowledgeable, you quickly found out—but eventually, the two of you had branched into other topics. You learned about Steve’s life growing up in Indiana, about all his likes and dislikes, and everything about the band. He managed to pull the same information from you and you let him.

Even the physical stuff was easy, with time. In the beginning, it was an experiment of firsts. While you were pretty well-versed in the practice of feigned affection, you were used to the guy always making the first (fake) move. Most of the guys you had been "set up" with were the "act first, ask permission later" type. Steve was polite and considerate to a fault, and it took you two full dates to convince him that he didn't have to ask before holding your hand and an entire week more to work up to the kiss on the cheek. After those conversations though, touching Steve, in one way or another, had become second nature.

So much so, in fact, that it had begun to bleed into your everyday lives. It was not unusual during the time of your re-recording, to be at the studio and have Steve come up from behind you to rest his hand in the gentle dip of your waist only for you to lean back as you inhaled that scent that was uniquely him: smokey sandalwood and hair pomade.

Right around the time rehearsal started you realized that perhaps the two of you were becoming too comfortable with that type of affection, especially given how much time he spent with Robin, and you had begun to keep a subtle distance between the two of you whenever you weren’t on stage.

Steve while intelligent in his own right, had never struck you as the kind of person to pick up on subtleties, so when he brings up this distance you realize that either you severely underestimated his abilities, or you were not as subtle as you thought you’d been.

It’s a few days before the first stop of the Press Tour—An early morning slot with Wake Up, USA! —that has the two of you sitting on your couch when he brings it up. You had invited Steve over to practice answering any possible questions you may have to field together and make sure you’re on the same page.

As it turns out though, outside of music, Steve is not much for rehearsing.

“Can’t we just wing it?” Steve asks as he lies sprawled on your couch.

You huff in response, “No, we can’t just wing it. This is a big deal! This is our first time out as a couple, and we have to be believable.”

Steve scoffs at this and you raise an annoyed eyebrow in response.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs in response, “it’s just hard to act like a couple when you’ve been avoiding me for, like, the past month.”

He doesn’t sound accusatory or angry when he says this, just matter-of-fact. 

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” you sputter out, weakly.

It’s his turn to raise an incredulous eyebrow at you.

“Really? Could’ve fooled me. Last time I checked you and Eddie weren’t the best of friends, but you’d rather eat lunch with him than the rest of us. You know, if you didn’t like us, you didn’t have to agree to be in the band, we would’ve understood,” he deflates as he says this last sentence and it crumples your heart just a bit.

 “I like you guys,” you say quietly, nudging his leg with your knee as you do.

“Then, is it me?” He asks, voice small and eyes low.

“No, no, it’s not you, Steve,” you rush to say.

“It’s just, I’ve never really been any good at this,” you mumble, shy under his gaze.

“Good at what?” He urges gently.

“At being friends with people.”

You continue, words clunky and difficult to get out, “At being friends with someone I’m also pretending to date.

“I mean, with the rest of the guys Starcourt set me up with, I only had to tolerate them for a few weeks, at most. With us, well who knows right? Plus, I actually like you,” you wince at this uncharacteristic display of vulnerability from yourself, “I like all of you and I don’t want to ruffle any feathers or cross any boundaries and hurt anyone’s feelings.”

He chuckles at this, “Trust me, you won’t hurt my feelings by spending time with me.”

You shake your head, “It’s not you I’m worried about, Steve. There are other people.”

Steve’s brow furrows in confusion, “I’m not following.”

You are not sure what to say, now. You don’t want to call Steve and Robin out, it’s clear that they’ve been trying to keep what they have going on a secret, and you don’t want to call attention to that. You’re also afraid that if you mention him and Robin, you’ll eventually have to explain how when you see them together, your chest gets painfully tight. Pivot, you demand of yourself.

“What I mean to say is, it’s easier for me to keep everything professional when I have a little more space because I’m not really used to this friend thing. I’m sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t like you or the band. I like you all a lot, actually and I guess I’m just worried about messing that up.”

You can feel yourself retract into yourself the more you speak and by the end, your knees are tucked under your chin. You can’t bring yourself to meet Steve’s gaze.

He doesn’t respond right away, but you feel the warmth of his palm spread over the expanse of your back.

“Listen, I think… if this is gonna work, we have to be on each other’s team and part of that is talking to one another, right?  And letting each other know when we're having a hard time. I want to be on your team, will you let me?” His voice swells as he asks, and you are so aware of his warmth next to you.

“Yeah,” you nod, finally meeting his eyes, “ I want to be on your team too if you’ll let me?”

He nods enthusiastically, smiling so brightly you question if the sun has ever been as bright.

“Great, now can we please practice some of these questions?” You demand, playfully. 

“Or, or, and hear me out, we could go get burgers," he offers back.

You end up doing both.

***

November 13, 1983, Sunset Studios, Los Angeles, California

Call time for Wake Up, USA! was insanely early and you don’t think you’ve ever seen an angrier Hopper than one that has to be dealing with Eddie Munson at 5 AM. Eddie is decidedly, not a morning person.

“Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine today?” You deadpan to the disgruntled guitarist from your makeup chair next to his. You were not fairing much better: not only were you running on little sleep, but you were also wound tightly with nerves about your first live interview as a band and as a couple.

“Can it, Your Majesty, or we might have a case of regicide on our hands,” he warns with no real heat behind his words.

“Isn’t it a bit too early to be throwing big words like that around, Munson?” Steve asks, from his spot on your other side.

“Don’t even know what that means,” he mutters, mostly to you.

“It means the murder of a king or queen,” you respond automatically.

“Doesn’t have to be just one, either. You could always kill more than one monarch at a time,” Eddie raises his eyebrows at Steve as he says this, making his implications very obvious.

“Wow, look at us,” Steve exclaims, grinning, “already making veiled threats at each other. We’ve finally made it, honey.”

He says this last part exclusively to you punctuating it by reaching for your hand and giving it a squeeze and you laugh.

The lightness of the exchange distracts you from your nerves for a moment. And from the way Eddie’s eyes linger on your hand interlaced with Steve’s.

Your brief reprieve is interrupted by the soft thud of a heavy object landing in your lap.

“What’s this?” You hold up a beat-up paperback to the culprit.

Eddie shrugs, “The Two Towers, Dustin finally got it back to me, took his sweet time too, that little asshole.”

You nod. He had lent you the first Lord of the Rings book weeks ago, while you were still in rehearsal after you had shown up bookless one day and you had devoured the book. You had been needling him for the second one since, but he had lent it to the audio engineer’s son, a kid named Dustin who idolized him and Steve in equal measure.

“Thanks,” you say, surprise coloring your voice, thumbing through the pages, eyes hungrily scanning the pages.

***

EDDIE:  I dunno, she seemed nervous.  I thought if she had something to distract her, it might’ve helped.

***

You get through the first chapter of your new book before they pull you into wardrobe.

They outfit you in a light blue dress, with exaggerated sleeves and a belt around your middle to compliment Steve’s dark blue blazer and stripped t-shirt combo.

 You feel your nerves mounting as you are helped into your heels and given your mic pack. Suddenly, everything that is riding on this is suffocating you from all ends—a visceral crushing pain that you can’t shake.

Steve appears at your side and the band had been escorted onto the soundstage your hand has been tightly wrapped around his like a vice the entire time.

“Can you, uh, loosen your grip a bit, please,” Steve asks, finally.

“Right, sorry,” you say, letting go of his hand completely and instead focusing your nervous energy on straightening his lapels.

After the third time you’ve readjusted his collar, Steve grabs both of your hands in his, and pulls you close, giving you no choice but to focus on his face.

“Hey,” he says in a hushed tone, just for you, “you don’t need to worry, okay? We’ve got this. I’m on your team, remember?”

You swallow thickly, and nod, before adding, “And I’m on yours, Harrington.”

“That’s my girl,” he says sealing the exchange with a kiss on the cheek.

***

JONATHAN: That first interview, on Wake Up, USA! was what really sold them. I mean, they couldn’t keep their eyes off of each other the entire time.

And then, when one of the hosts asked them how they met, Steve told this story about seeing her for the first time from across the restaurant during our first lunch together and how he was sure he had made a total fool of himself because he was so nervous to be around someone so beautiful, of course, Steve Harrington would say something like that. The audience swooned. Hell, I swooned a little bit.

And then they asked her about all the guys from her past, which was totally fucked up by the way, but she handled it great. She said she was grateful for all the mistakes she had made in the past because they had led her to The Downsides and to Steve.

Between that interview and our live performance, the audience was hooked. 

***

“Good job, you two,” Hopper says gruffly, patting you and Steve on the shoulder as you're ushered off stage after your performance.

“Thanks,” you squeak out, all the tension slowly deflating from your body after hearing Hopper’s approval.

It was done, your first live appearance complete, and it hadn’t been a total train wreck.

Actually, thinking back, it had been pretty good. There was a good variety of questions; everyone had gotten to speak; and when it came to you and Steve, well, it seemed believable at least. And the band managed to preform the new single without a hitch, all of the kinks that had plagued you during the last few weeks of rehearsals ironed out. 

Maybe you could pull this off after all.

***

By the time the band had wrapped up the week-long press junket, you were exhausted.

What had taken more of a toll than the hours of sitting in makeup chairs, too-tight shoes and repetitive questions was having to pretend with Steve.

You realize now that your problem was never the risk of not being convincing enough, but instead of being too convincing.

You had spent the entire week so physically attached to Steve, that it was beginning to feel like you were one single being. Like he was an appendage you couldn’t move without.

And every kiss on the cheek, every look, every squeeze of your hand, felt like a jumpstart to your heart.

Then there were actual interview parts. Steve was good with the press. He would draw audiences and hosts alike, in as easy as if he was winding up a thread. There was never a question that would catch him off guard and he always came off boyish and genuine in his responses. Like the time he was asked what his favorite thing about you was and he told the story of you showing up at the recording studio with cookies and having the guts to change Eddie’s lyrics in the same afternoon.

You knew better than to ask if he meant it. 

The next day, Hopper called to let you know that your album was breaking all sorts of records, and the label was incredibly pleased. So much so that they were thinking of increasing the tour dates and they were even starting to plan for future projects—projects that they wanted you to write.

The news didn’t make you feel light with joy like you had once hoped it would, instead, it made you feel heavy like a sinking stone.

A few weeks later, when the band went their separate ways for the Christmas break, you all knew something big was coming, you just had no way of knowing what.

***

JONATHAN: Right after New Year, Hopper pulls the band into a meeting in his office. First thing he told us was that they were announcing a tour with twice as many dates as they had originally planned for, demand was that high. Then he said, “From this point on, everything is going to move really quickly, there’s no getting off the ride now.”

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[fastcardotmp3]

Oh would you so kindly expand on your Murray/that plotline™ thoughts? Btw I didn't remember it as a cheating situation but since it's been so long since watching that season i was taking other people's word for it. And yeah i don't think Murray did anything even if it was. like he didn't make them have sex.

I started to type out an answer to this ask, forgot to save it as a draft, and lost all of my thoughts, so apologies if this is a little disjointed but! I will do my best to give my thoughts coherently <3

I really do think the Murray thing is maybe a mischaracterization of his intentions, but also not the thing I care most about when it comes to narratives that deal with Steve/Nancy/Jonathan situation in season 2, because at the end of the day it's just another reframing of the same tired take tbh

I'll stick it under the cut though because I know I can be wordy

There's this, like, company line in this fandom that Steve and Nancy were just two teenagers who hurt each other, which I one hundred percent agree with, only that tends to be the company line everywhere except for the Steve-centric fics that get written about that plotline, which instead seem to frequently make an argument that "Nancy cheated on Steve, was cruel enough to cause long-term emotional damage, and then either is forced to grovel for forgiveness or be shut out of his and his friends' lives forever" which is. Not that. Right?

Fandom cultures at large, not just this one, are more willing to do empathetic, in-depth character analysis of male characters than they are female. This is something we know to be true and this is something that is noticable in how Nancy gets treated by fanon, especially when it comes to her relationship with Steve.

Because here's the thing, we could debate it all day (and I won't, for the record, if anyone's thinking about starting a fight) but for my part, what she did wasn't cheating. From the very first time I watched season 2 when it was released, I always read the Halloween fight and the morning after as a breakup.

HOWEVER, even if Nancy did cheat on Steve? It doesn't warrant the downright malicious Nancy characterizations that often feel ubiquitous to this fandom.

Even if Nancy did cheat, there is a refusal to look at the situation from her point of view, something which even Steve is canonically able to do by the end of season 2 (we'll get to that). Because there's more nuance here to take into account than just Nancy making a choice to specifically hurt or break Steve and there's more nuance here than Steve being incapable of moving on from this breakup.

In fact, if you really look at the choices both of them are making, it has very little to do with each other and everything to do with their own reactions to immense personal trauma and grief. Nancy has spent a year suppressing a mourning she's not allowed to experience out loud, and you expect her not to snap eventually?

Does personal hardship mean cheating is, like, a good thing (if that's the takeaway you're going with from canon)? No. Does it still wildly differ from the cruel and intentionally malicious version of Nancy that shows up in far too much fic? Yeah.

She's a teenage girl whose best friend died in a violent and preventable way at sixteen years old. Nancy tried to fit herself into Steve's coping strategies, tried to let it all go back to normal, and was visibly hurting in the process. She sought out comfort. Understanding. A chance to be heard.

It's a disservice to both of their characters to treat this like there's a "good" and "bad" guy, when the way they handle it in canon, the way Steve comes to terms with it (literally within days he is telling her to go with Jonathan, by the way), is all vitally important to their growth.

When Steve says "I may not be a very good boyfriend" that's not about him being down on himself or having low self worth, it's a moment of growth and self reflection/ awareness for him to acknowledge that in his efforts to make himself feel better, he also hurt Nancy. It's about him no longer being in the same bitter headspace of "what am I apologizing for?" that he was at the start of the season, and having the maturity to see that they don't work as they are at their current mental states, no matter how heartbreaking that may be for him.

And Nancy choosing to go with Jonathan is really just a continuation of everything she was doing in trying to get justice for Barb-- she's choosing to follow her heart after being trapped away from acknowledging it for so long.

In other words, not only does he not have reason to, but Steve doesn't hate Nancy, Steve doesn't hold a lifelong grudge against Nancy, Steve doesn't think Nancy is a cruel and unfeeling bitch, but fic authors sure seem to.

If it were just a handful of fics here or there, I wouldn't be so adamant about it, but it's such an ingrained narrative in this fandom that sometimes I think people have genuinely forgotten the canon context.

Don't strip them of their agency and everything they learn from getting together and falling apart by making Steve less emotionally competent and Nancy more borderline abusive than either of them are.

It's boring and it's sexist and it shouldn't be the norm.

but that's just my 2 and a half cents peace and love anon, hope this answered your question <3

[coraniaid]

Enemies ends with Faith warning Buffy that if she kills her, she'll become her: "you ain't ready for that".

And sure enough, Buffy does go through a large part of the first half of the next episode convinced she's about to become something monstrous, a transformation which she's clearly not prepared for ("I'm scared Will. There's this thing in me and I can't find it. I can't stop it. What if it changes me? [...] All of a sudden I could be something that's not me anymore.")

Of course, Buffy isn't (explicitly) talking about Faith here, but (to paraphrase Xander a few episodes earlier), she is talking about her a lot. Telling Willow that "to the naked eye [kissing Faith] looked like fun", or telling Angel that Faith wasn't "so bad to have around" or that she was "hurting a lot" in a way that "some people, protective-type people" might have been drawn to, or (on a more metaphorical level), bringing up Iago's motivations for trying to destroy Othello (all of which, ranging from anger at being overlooked or sexual jealously or simply because he enjoys doing it, because he's "the dark half of Othello himself", clearly apply just as equally to why Faith has recently become Buffy's enemy.)

Of all the Season 3 episodes Faith isn't in, I think this is the one where her absence makes the most sense. Her arc this season wouldn't be as satisfying if we could read her mind and see her motivations. Just like Iago (at least according to Ms. Murray's dissertation), she's not really a person in her own right. She exists as a reflection of Buffy's own feelings, "but you never really see what's in someone's heart".

Though it wasn't the writers' concious intent, I do think you can view this season's central arc as the closest the show ever really gets to a love triangle: with Buffy forced to choose between dwelling in the comfortable past that Angel represents and the thrill of living only in the moment that Faith represents, and ultimately rejecting and accepting aspects of both so that she can move on into the future. And in this viewing, I think it's important that Angel and Faith are treated on an equal footing in this episode. Buffy doesn't get to use her newfound powers to read Angel's mind, and she doesn't get to read Faith's mind either. They are both blank slates: Angel representing who Buffy was before the events of last year, and Faith representing a possible demonic transformation (and note that the question of whether Slayers are demons or fully human will be pretty central to the next four seasons of the show).

The episode takes away Buffy's mind-reading powers almost as soon as she gets them, and while they give her a broader sense of empathy (or at least help to further develop an empathy she's been gaining since the show's first episode when she realized the difference between Cordelia being "nice" and being nice "to me, anyway") they don't help her resolve her confusion about her vampire boyfriend and "the whole bad girl thing" Faith has working for her.

But in just a few episodes' time, she's going to have to make a choice. And, coming back to her fears at the start, there's a risk that in doing so she'll become something that's not her anymore. When Xander tells Buffy in Graduation Day that he "doesn't want to lose her" before she goes to fight and possibly kill Faith, it's hard not to be reminded of what Buffy told Willow this episode. What if it changes her? What if, all of a sudden, she's not Buffy anymore?