#stranger things clues

[generalghosty]

sometimes you have a shower thought so dumb you just gotta draw it

[ghost-proofbaby]

GHOOOST i saw your valentine blurb event and thought i’d drop in something! 🥹

24 hours eddie has been living in my mind rent free and i can’t help but feel like he’s the type to act tough and all that, but instantly melts into a gooey simpy lovesick puddle the second you call him “baby” ❤️ like yeah he likes to be called nicknames like ed or eds, but petnames??? he’s done for. just turns into a blushing blubbering mess. especially with the way he has repressed all his emotions for so long, it’s fun to kind of tease him and call him “handsome” “pretty boy” “baby boy” just to see him break his facade and just unapologetically be the golden retriever that he really is ❤️❤️❤️

i think my favorite thing about this vision is the way he would try to fight it so bad. hiding his face in your neck and blushing all terrible and gaaaaaaaahh. i hope this does it justice <3

warnings: fem!reader. reader is described to be wearing a dress, makeup, earrings, and heels. not edited. set in twenty four hours universe, after the story!

“Eddie!” 

No answer.

“Eds!” 

No answer.

“Edward Munson!” 

Your patience is wearing thin as you finally pop on the back of the earring you had been struggling with. The studs weren’t even anything fancy, hardly worth all the time you’d just spent fighting with it, but you were determined to look nice. 

Valentine’s Day. A day meant to be filled with blissful serenity and endless heart eyes, that was really only becoming the bane of your existence. 

“I swear to God,” you mumble to yourself, huffing a bit as you try to clean up the mess you’ve made of the bathroom sink. Makeup everywhere, various pieces of jewelry scattered, your curling iron still warm on the edge of porcelain. You decide rather quickly it’s a mess to be dealt with later tonight. Or tomorrow. Or next week. “If he’s still fucking with that bike.” 

The sharp clicks of your heels transform as you walk from tile to laminate-wood flooring, becoming a bit more dull and less obnoxious as you take the hallway by storm. 

Next year, you’re telling Steve to go fuck himself if he tries to lure you and Eddie into another double date. 

“Eddie, we only have thirty minutes until we nee-” you stress as you reach the end of the hall, cutting off entirely as you catch sight of the living room. 

Of the living room, and your boyfriend. 

“What is that?” 

You think you might actually kill him. 

“What?” Eddie doesn’t even look up at you, and you make a mental strike against him, “I told you, I’m working on the bi-”

“Yes,” you cut him off, taking a few harsh steps into the very crowded living room, “You were supposed to bring up a part of the bike. Why is the entire bike in our living room, Munson?” 

You mean it – you’re going to kick his ass by the end of today. 

His bike is propped up there, right in front of the TV, entirely blocking the pathway to the balcony. The bike that should be outside. The bike that certainly has God knows what all over the tires, and is sitting right on your rug you just bought for the living room. 

Eddie stops his tinkering with whatever piece he’d removed from the bike to work on on the coffee table, abiding by your rule of having a towel down below it to avoid getting grease everywhere, “What do you mean?” 

He’s playing dumb. And he probably thinks he looks cute as he does it, but no amount of fluttering lashes or boyish grins can soothe your irritation. 

“You’re an idiot, but you’re not stupid,” you hiss as you cross the room and stand right in front of him, only seeing the crown of his head as he keeps his eyes dipped low in shame, “When did you… How did you…. When the fuck did you bring the bike up?” 

You can hardly manage a fluent sentence as you look between Eddie and the bike, mind blown in the truest sense. 

His voice is a mere murmur as he fiddles with one of his wrenches, flipping it over a few times before he answers, “While you were in the shower.” 

“How?” 

“The frat boys downstairs,” he rushes out in one breath, eyes still locked on the ground rather than you. “I, uh, paid a few of them to help me lug it up.”

You sigh heavily, throwing your head back before you move to the couch and dramatically throw yourself down with defeat, “You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that, Munson?” 

“You say that like it’s new news,” he says as he twists to finally look at you, eyebrow quirked and the shadow of his dimple making an appearance while he fights a smug smile, “I think you’d be more worried if I wasn’t being a pain in your ass.” 

He’s right. It doesn’t slow the roll of your eyes, though. 

“You know I love you, right?” you say, suddenly using a sickeningly sweet tone as you lean in closer to where he sits on the ground. His face falls a bit, confusion lacing his brows together, “But, baby, if you keep this up… I’m going to kick your ass.” 

He should look a whole lot more scared than he currently does as you deliver the threat, but he entirely throws you off when he grins. 

An ear splitting grin, spreading cheek from cheek, radiating with anything but trepidation. He lights up, posture perking up as he looks at you with soft eyes. It looks as though you might have told him you loved him for the first time all over again, as though you’ve just reminded him of how you wanted to spend your life with him rather than said you were going to kick his ass. 

The fight and issue at hand is momentarily forgotten as he whispers, “What did you just call me?” 

“What did I just call you?” you question incredulously, leaning back fully, wholly concerned now. Maybe you should call Steve and cancel the date, “I- I just threatened to kick your ass, and you’re making heart eyes at me, asking me what I just called you?”

You rewind a bit in your brain, going over the moment again, trying to figure out if you’d let something unusual slip. Deciphering any moment that might have pulled this reaction from him. 

You come up empty. Nothing. 

“Did you just…” he trails off, cheeks surely aching as they shine with a bit of natural blush, “Did you just call me baby?” 

Oh. That. 

You look about the room for a second, taking in this predicament you’d gotten yourself into, “Do you not want me to call you that? I just-”

“No!” he rushes to stop you before you can take it back, “I mean, it’s fine. That’s not the issue, I just-” 

He cuts off, and you realize just how flustered he is. 

Now you’re smiling, right along with him, “You like it?” 

“Sort of,” he shrugs, going a bit shy on you now, “It… I mean, if you want to start calling me stuff like that, I don’t mind. It’s fine. It’s cool.” 

“Baby,” you say in place of his name, so naturally, like honey. You’re leaning forward once more, entering his orbit as you softly tease, “You’re blushing.” 

The words turn him even more scarlet, “Fuck off.”

“What?” it’s your turn to act innocent, rearranging yourself on the couch to be more comfortable, “I thought you said you liked it when I called you stuff like that-”

Eddie movies quickly from the floor, gathering himself up in record time that would have had him groaning in protest on any other occasion. You’ve hardly leaned an elbow back on the couch’s arm when he gets on top of you.

Even if he’s trying to stop you from all your taunting with his words, his kiss says otherwise.

It’s hot, heavy, desperate – like alarm bells might be ringing in his head and telling him to run to the nearest safety of your lips. You welcome him in, of course. Take his lips right between yours with an eagerness to match, forgetting all about the lipstick you’d just applied moments before. Thighs spreading to bring him home to you, arms quickly searching out solace of all the skin below his Deftones t-shirt. Straining biceps as he holds himself over you, squared shoulders as he balances to stay right where he belongs. His chest even heaves ever so slightly with little gasps between kisses, both your lungs needing air despite the magnetic protest between you two. 

“God,” you gasp out during one of those short breaks, making him divert a kiss to the corner of your mouth instead, “If you’re gonna kiss me like this every time I call you baby, I should do it more often,” he grunts, and tries to reignite a kiss, probably just to shut you up. You don’t let him, turning a cheek and forcing his searching mouth to plant a peck there instead, laughing a little, “Maybe I should be sure to use the nickname during dinner with Steve, hm?” 

“Don’t you dare,” he groans as his lips seek out your jaw and neck next, peppering kisses between words. For each syllable, there’s a smack of his lips against your skin. 

You ponder back to the time before you saw this side of Eddie; before someone so soft, so caring, so affectionate existed for you. It’s hard to even recall all those times now with the puddle of a man hovering over you. 

“No?” you hum, head thrown back, letting him have his way as your fingers toy with the band around his bun, “What about pretty boy instead?” 

Another groan, vibrating against your skin. 

“Or handsome?” 

This time, he nips the sensitive spot below your ear with his teeth in response.

You gasp, half from the bite and half with faux enthusiasm, “Oh! I know! I’ll take one out of your books and call you sweetheart.” 

He finally moans in annoyance, and you know it’s all an act as he faceplants into your chest. You can feel his smile, radiant as ever, muffled by your skin and dress. 

“You’re such a pain in my ass,” his echo of your earlier words come out around the cotton neckline, “You know that?” 

You ruffle the kinks of his curls at his scalp a little, giving a scratch for good measure, “Yeah. Tell me something I don’t know, handsome.” 

The full weight of him falls along your body finally, and he has a boyish glint when he raises his head. Seeking hands find promise along your hips, bunching the fabric of your black dress up into his fists before he’s kissing you again. 

A little less hot, a little less heavy, a little less desperate. Just as rewarding as before, though. 

Somewhere between simply nice and deathly devoted, you two let your mouths explore at a leisure pace. His lips, the apples of his cheeks, the line of his jaw down to his chin – no space is left unkissed, and you finally notice the smear of red lipstick. 

“Oh, shit,” you laugh out, not sounding the least bit sorry as you look at the fading marks left behind, “I got my lipstick all over you.” 

When he lifts from the crook of your neck, you catch the stain feathering out around his own lips, a bit smeared along his chin, “And you. I dunno if we can go to dinner lookin’ like this, doll.” 

You get it. His reaction to your slip of a pet name. 

You have the same reaction as he does it to you, gut fluttering and chest buzzing with tenderness at the sentiments. It’s a simple thing, probably a bit cheesy and cringey to outsiders, but it works between the two of you. You like hearing him grant you the pleasure of a nickname, whether it be sweetheart or doll. You love the hidden devotion beneath the delivery, whether it be idiot or fool. 

There’s always an unspoken my in the mix. A certain sense of belonging to him that you can’t really explain to others without being looked at as if you’ve grown a second head. 

Why would you want to belong to another person, in any sense of the word? 

The answer feels simple enough when you look up at your boy, covered and pretty in Maybelline’s “Ruby for Me”.

“You’re not getting out of this double date,” you whisper back, still toying with his hair, still looking up at him with all the love you’re capable of growing within this chest of yours. It’s a bit more than yesterday, that much you’re sure. Each day, he finds a way to push the limits just a bit more, make a little bit more room behind your ribs for all the affection you hold for him, “If I’m stuck in this impending disaster, so are you.” 

He sighs, head slipping into the crook of your neck, “Yeah… Yeah, that sounds about right.” 

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” 

“Me? Disappointed with you?” he gasps, breath hot on your skin still as he snuggles in a little closer, grips the soft fabric of your dress a little tighter, “Oh, never.”

“Oh, so you decide to sound sarcastic instead?” you’re fighting a grin, trying to find a reason to be mad at him again. Hell, you even glance at the motorcycle in your damn living room to reignite the smallest of sparks – nothing, “You wound me, pretty boy.” 

“You’re all about stealing my lines tonight, I see,” he teases as he finally begins to peel himself away from you. He’s all soft – soft eyes, soft smile, soft cheeks, soft flush. Soft, soft, soft. “I guess if there’s no way to convince you to stay home instead of going to this stupid double date, we both gotta get cleaned up now.” 

You adore him. If you could bottle up all that softness you’re witnessing with your own two eyes just for a rainy day, you would. 

He starts to stand on his knees, moving to leave you entirely and take all that mellow delight away from you too soon, when you lock your heels against his lower back. 

Wrapping your legs a little too tightly around his waist, you raise a brow, “You may not be able to convince me to stay home entirely, but… no one ever said you couldn’t convince me to be about, let’s say, ten minutes late.” 

He tilts his head at you, eyes wide, “Only ten minutes?” 

“Okay, you’ve twisted my arm. Let’s make it fifteen.” 

He crashes back into you in an instant, both of you giggling in the process. 

With the weight of your pretty boy between your hips, and the caress of his lips against your chest, you accidentally make it nearly thirty minutes late. You don’t really care – not when it comes to Eddie.

[lunabug2004]

The first time I watched s4, I remember thinking this

was such strange blocking for Mike... Like why isn't he celebrating with the others?

Then I remembered the way he's been pulling away from everyone since s2. This is a perfect clue put in for the audience to realize/remember this.

He's not only being hidden from the audience, he's hiding himself from his friends as well!

Istg the blocking in this show is actually genius.

[sword-wielding-sapphic]

My dad's lack of media comprehension serves as a fascinating litmus test for gay subtext. He "didn't pick up on any gay breadcrumbs" between Stede and Ed until the moment they kissed, but he knew that Will Byers was gay just from "it's not my fault you don't like girls" in series 3. It took him way too long to realise that there was something fruity going on in Killing Eve, but he fully believed that Sherlock and John ended up together

[fluffyfangirl]

Byler (pre) relationship (almost) cuddling in bed in fic heals my heart and my soul each time

[greenfiend]

Dad left... Castle Byers is built.

Castle Byers is destroyed... "he" (dad) is back...

SO many tiny hints like this that hint towards Lonnie's significance. He may not be present, but the impact he has left on Will has always been present this.whole.time.

[wandixx]

Relationship reveal with side of mind-control (or, really, the other way around)

to that one anon who asked for relationship reveal M'gann/Danny one-shot, here is another take I mentioned

Trigger warnings: mind control ofc

M’gann just needed to get closer. It’ll be alright if she just got a little closer.

“Are you trying to kill us dude?”

Answer was apparently yes as Robin barely jumped out of the way of an ectoblast. M’gann knew true answer was no, she knew Phantom well enough, after long calm nights under starry sky and comfort after breakdowns in the closets and heart-to-heart over battlefields and kisses stolen in the quiet moments of in-between. But for some reason, now he was acting against everything he was and stood for. Red eyes were probably point towards an explanation.

“What even is your beef with us?!” Artemis yelled, shooting one of her special arrows at him.

Right, Team didn’t know Danny. She was going to introduce him soon, when the time was right, gods, she even convinced him to join the Team and was just waiting for Batman’s approval. And now Phantom got worst possible introduction.

M’gann just needed to get close enough to snap him out of it. She could of course just use her psychic powers from where she was but it was a nuclear option. It was better if she handled it the ‘normal way’.

For all he was great fighter, Phantom stood no chance against the whole Team, even when he was in his right mind. As it was, however had in their clutches didn’t know full extent of his abilities and were absolutely pathetic at using what they did know about. Though intangibility made it a bit tricky-

Oh, wait, Kaldur’s water attacks countered it, Danny plain and simple hadn’t had a shadow of the chance.

“Don’t knock him out” she demanded over the Mindlink, right when Kaldur scooped Danny out of the sky, pinning his hands so he couldn’t fight anymore and Conner jumped at the ghost, fuming with anger.

“Don’t lapidate this one M’gann, they are not a robot”

“Excuse me, what?!”

“It was one time Robin, one time. And I know he is not a robot, I can read his thoughts”

“I sooo need to hear this story”

“As you wish Artemis, as you wish”

“Could you all just shut up and focus?!”

“Thank you Superboy”

“So, what’s the plan?” Wally asked while pacing, trying to work off excess energy after battle finished too soon.

“Oh, I’m going to talk to him”

“They tried to burn our heads off, I kinda doubt you can talk them out of anything”

“He is mind-controlled. And he is my friend, I taught him how to fight it. He just needs a little help, it seems”

“Get to it then Miss Martian, he is trying to slip”

She nodded and kicked off to fly, stopping at Danny’s eye level, just slightly breaching his personal space.

“Hey Phantom,” she started softly “I need you so use what I taught you o-?”

“Shut up” Danny’s mouth spat in distinctly not-Danny way.

“I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to Phantom and if you don’t leave I’ll make sure he kicks you out or do it myself” she didn’t bother with niceties, she didn’t bother with putting an inflection in her voice.

Danny’s body snorted.

“I won with psychics stronger than you. I just also know Phantom well enough, he’d prefer to do it himself and he can do it. If you don’t leave now, you’ll learn how much worse is it to be kicked out instead of leaving peacefully”

Slowly, so painfully slowly she reached out to put hand on Danny’s cheek. Touch always helped ground him and there was a chance it would distract whoever controlled him at the moment. Red in his eyes dimmed for a second or five. She smiled gently “Yes, just like that Phantom, you’ve got it. Just how we trained, alright?”

She got a little closer but not enough to lose view of his eyes. She could tell whether he was back in control just by using his powers, even without breaching the boundaries Danny was comfortable with. But she simply wanted to see his whole face and for him to see her whole face, like he did during hours upon hours of their practice.

She could feel his muscles twitching between expressions, as his eyes changed colors like police lights if they were red-green instead of red-blue. M’gann kept steady stream of assurances, slowly brushing thumbs against his cheeks. If situation wasn’t so dire it would probably feel pretty nice. She’d need to bookmark this idea for later.

At last, the whole spectacle ended, with Danny’s eyes turning back to their soft green his face pressing into her hands like it was his only salvation. M’gann grinned enthusiastically barely containing relieved laugh.

“You did it Da- Phantom! You did it!” she yelled before giving him a quick kiss and engulfing him in the hug, despite the water still holding him in place, few feet above the ground “I knew you could do it” she whispered to his ear. Kaldur asked if it was safe to approach so she waved them forward. As soon as Atlantean freed Danny (also getting water out of her cloths, which was nice) she lowered them both to the ground.

Danny’s hands hesitantly reached to hug her back, squeezed like his life depended on it and then he started shaking apart in her arms. She slowly lead him to sit on the ground when it was clear he could hold his own weight at the moment.

“I’m sorry” he whispered, as if he struggled to even make a sound “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry”

M’gann ignored growing wet patch on her shoulder, clinging to him just as strongly as he did.

“You did so well. There is nothing to be sorry for, you did so well”

“I’m sorry I- You- I should’ve- I’m”

“She is right,” Kaldur stated calmly “You are not to blame for being mind-controlled, especially since you broke it at first give chance”

“But I- I attacked you”

“Comes with the job, really” Robin said with almost imperceptible strain in his voice characteristic to the hand stand.

“I could’ve hurt you”

“Ha! You wish,”Artemis snorted.

“I really don’t”

Everyone snickered lightheartedly and Danny relaxed at clear lack of hostility.

“What about a collateral damage?”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere there is no collateral to be damaged”

“This is not what collateral means on it’s own-”

“This is not the point. Phantom, are you looking for things we should hate you for?”

“I have hard time believing you don’t”

“Danny, I love you but you’re an idiot right now. I told you they won’t hate you”

“Superboy still looks like he considers which of my bones he should break first”

“Not yours but whoever’s mind-controlled you. He has a bit of a history with that”

“Exactly”

“Huh. And you could probably do it too if it’s a guy I think it is” Danny whispered with some sort of amazement in his voice “That’s relieving. I’d hat if you hated me. Miss Martian told me a lot about y’all”

“Can’t say the same about you, sorry”

“That’s fine, I asked for it. I’m Phantom, I’m from Amity Park and usually I fight other menaces who try to stir some shit and worry about collateral damage and not the other way around. Pleased to meet you, sorry it happened like this”

“So like… you’re a small town hero, right?”

“Now, that might be a bit over-”

“Definitely a hero,” M’gann interrupted “With personal arch nemesis, regular rogue gallery and all that”

“Miss Martian also called you her friend,” Kaldur said, clearly trying to learn how that happened without outright asking the question, but he would get anything but, judging by Danny’s sudden grin, that could be called sly if he still wasn’t clearly shaken by the whole mind-control ordeal.

“Oh c’mon M. That’s not what you called me last week when we made up in the broom closet”

She loved that boy but she should’ve let Conner knock him out when she still had a chance.

[blueandyellow7]

Just in case it hasn’t already been consuming your every waking thought, just thought I’d remind you all that byler is ACTUALLY happening

[conflictofthemind]

[ghosttotheparty]

based on this post by @liightsnow <3

“Lucas, what’s your favourite song?”

“Oh, uh. I don’t know.”

“Figure it out,” Steve says tightly. “And tell me. If we don’t have the taPes we can get some in town in the morning.”

The room is quiet, tense, and everyone knows what’s going through Steve’s head.

Just in case.

It’s almost uncomfortable, all of them sitting around the basement of Nancy’s house, on the sofas and the floor like they’re waiting for something.

“Mine’s Time After Time,” Erica says after a moment. “Cyndi Lauper.”

Dustin snorts.

“Excuse me?” Erica says, tilting her head, and Eddie suppresses a smile, looking back and forth between them. “Why is that funny?”

“Nothing,” Dustin says, shrugging.

“‘Nothing?’ Why’d you laugh then, huh?”

“Just…” The others are all watching too, suppressing their own tired smiles as they bicker. “You’re such a hard-ass, it’s kinda funny that your favourite song’s a romantic ballad.”

“Language,” Steve scolds. Eddie’s smile grows.

“What’s your favourite song, then, asshole?” Erica asks.

“Language,” Steve says louder. Eddie is grinning now, rocking back and forth, looking away from Steve’s scandalised expression to Dustin’s face, which is now flushing pink.

“…Angeleyes,” he admits. “By ABBA.”

There’s a chorus of muffled laughter around the room.

“ABBA?” Eddie questions, making a face, and Dustin raises a finger at him.

“This needs to be a judgement-free zone—“

“You were just laughing at me for Cyndi Lauper,” Erica interrupts, shoving at him.

“That’s ‘cause it was funny.”

“ABBA’s kinda funny, too,” Lucas says, shrugging. Max is next to him, giggling behind her hand, headphones around her neck, and Eddie can’t remember the last time he saw her laugh. Dustin flips Lucas off.

“What’s your favourite song?” he asks, slumping into his seat and crossing his arms, almost pouting.

Lucas pauses, thinking for another moment before he says, “Rio,” firmly. “Duran Duran.”

Steve gives an approving nod, and Eddie rolls his eyes. Figures the jocks would have the same music taste.

“Why?” Dustin asks. Lucas makes a face, tossing a hand.

“‘S a good song, why do I need a reason?” he asks, then leans forward. “Why do you like Angeleyes?” he teases. Dustin turns pink again.

“Makes me think of Suzie,” he says begrudgingly. “Does Rio make you think of anyone special?”

“Shut up,” Lucas snaps, backing off. Eddie glances at Max, whose cheeks are pink she she looks down, still smiling. Eddie’s grin widens.

When he glances at Steve, he’s smiling too, watching the kids fondly. And Eddie is grateful for this moment, for the softness and banter and bickering and normalness, even if it’s brief.

“Robin, what’s your favourite?” Lucas asks, ignoring the way Dustin is snickering at him.

“Uh,” she sighs, looking up at the ceiling, arms around her legs that are drawn to her chest. “Emerald Eyes, Fleetwood Mac.”

“Wait, do we all have the tapes for these?” Steve asks. "I think I have Fleetwood Mac, but..."

“I have Erica’s,” Nancy says. “In my room. I might have Dustin’s too.”

“I have mine at my house,” Lucas says. Steve hesitates.

“I might have it too,” he says. “I’ll check when we stop at mine tomorrow.” Lucas nods. “Nancy, what’s yours? You have it?”

“Yeah,” Nancy says. “I have it, its’s One Way or Another. Blondie.”

Steve nods.

The rooms falls quiet again. Eddie looks at Steve again, at the way he’s sitting on the floor, arms around his legs like Robin. at the way he’s biting his lip, deep in thought. There’s a crease between his eyebrows. He looks too old, not at all like the boy Eddie used to see in the hallways at school. It feels weird to miss him.

“Steve,” he says quietly. Steve blinks, looking up at him like he’s startled. “What’s yours?”

“Uh, Shout At The Devil by Mötley Crüe,” he says. “I have it in my room.”

He’s met with silence.

Eddie finally stops rocking back and forth, staring at Steve, wondering if he really just said what Eddie heard. Steve blinks and looks back at him, then at the kids.

“…What?”

“Mötley Crüe?” Lucas says slowly.

“Yes?”

“Since when do you listen to metal?” Dustin says, and Eddie would go after him for his tone (he sounds disgusted) if he weren’t still frozen, stuck in place.

“Since, like, middle school,” Steve says defensively, rocking Eddie’s world even more. “What’s your deal?”

“I thought you were gonna say something by, like, Wham,” Max says dryly. Steve makes a face.

“Or ABBA,” Erica adds, dodging Dustin’s elbow.

“He listens to metal all the time,” Robin says, and Eddie finally tears his eyes away from Steve to look at her, wide-eyes. “Drives me crazy.”

“You don’t mind Van Halen,” Steve says defensively, leaning forward to look at her, and Eddie’s gaze finds him again.

“I do when I get out of school,” she says sassily. “And I’m tired, and I want a nap, and I get into your car to hear some guy yelling—“

“It’s not yelling, oh my god—“

Eddie’s lips are parted as he looks at Steve in awe as they bicker. He snaps out of it when Steve looks at him, their eyes meeting across the coffee table, and he blinks.

“What?” Steve says, half-smiling like he knows. Eddie shrugs, starting to rock back and forth again.

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” he says lightly. Steve raises an eyebrows. (God, why is that hot?)

“To have good music taste?” he asks, amused. Eddie shrugs again.

“Debatable.”

“The hell do you mean debatable?” Steve says, defensive again. Eddie grins.

“Mötley Crüe’s glam metal—“

“You are so fucking annoying,” Steve says, his eyes wide. “Oh my god.”

Eddie throws his head back with a loud Hah! as a chorus of Language! rings around the room, followed by giggles as Steve makes a face.

“What’s yours?” Nancy asks, kicking Eddie lightly from where she’s sitting on the sofa.

“Master of Puppets,” he says, his smile fading. “Metallica. I have it in my room, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to get it from the trailer—“

“I have it.”

Eddie’s eyes snap back across the coffee table. Steve is looking at him. Earnestly. Seriously. Eddie furrows his brows.

“What?” Steve says. “I have it.”

“Who are you?” Dustin says, and Steve finally looks away from Eddie to glare at Dustin.

“You be quiet, Angeleyes.”

“It’s a good song—“

“For a twelve year old girl, maybe.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Erica interrupts.

Their voices turns to white noise. Eddie stares at Steve, his cheeks flushing with heat, and he pulls a piece of his hair across his face absentmindedly, gazing and gazing and gazing at Steve while he bickers with Dustin. Steve’s smile when Lucas joins him in teasing Dustin makes Eddie’s face flush warmer, and Eddie blinks hard, dropping his hair and looking away so he doesn’t combust.

He turns a little bit to find Nancy staring at him, her head tilted, eyebrows raised a little, her eyes shining with amusement even though her expression kind of looks like she’s watching a house fire.

“Unbelievable,” she says after a moment, and his face turns hot, and he knows he’s blushing profusely as he points at her.

“You can’t say shit to me.”

She raises her hands in surrender, wide-eyed.

She gives him the same look the next day when Steve comes back with the tapes. Steve calls, “Eds,” while Eddie is laying upside down on one of the sofa, and Eddie tries to sit up before Steve tosses the tape to him. He manages to catch it, looking at it curiously in a lapse of memory before he remembers just as he spots his name written on the label, slanted and a little loopy in Steve’s handwriting.

He looks up at Steve while Steve walks away to find Robin, and he’s smiling again, and Nancy is rolling her eyes.

“You’re acting like he made you a personal mixtape,” she says when Steve is out of earshot. “He’s getting you a tape so you don’t die a gruesome death—“

“Listen, Wheeler, I’ve been through a lot,” he says, letting his head fall again as his eyes close. holding up a hand to shut her up. “Let me have this, please.”

“Okay, Eddie.”

She’s smiling.

—————————

Without you, my hope is small Let me be me all along

Eddie inhales slowly, feeling coming into his body. He can see bright light through his eyelids, and he feels cold, but something warm is touching his hand.

Let the fires rage inside Knowing someday I'd grow strong

Fingers playing with his, tracing them, running across his knuckles, squeezing and massaging and holding gently. The music that's playing is quiet, like it’s coming from headphones instead of a speaker, and Eddie’s lips twitch into a smile when he recognises the song.

Without you, without you

His hand finally shifts, his fingers twitching, and the hand holding his tightens as weight makes the bed he’s on shift.

“Eddie?”

Eddie exhales, squeezing his hand a little bit and turning his head. The pillow he’s laying on is really soft, and he hears his hair scratch over the fabric.

“Hey, Stevie,” he says weakly. His voice is scratchy and rough and almost unintelligible, and it hurts to speak. He winces. Feeling seeps back into his body, and he groans.

“You okay?” Steve asks softly, and his other hand is touching Eddie’s face, tracing his cheek lightly.

“My whole body hurts,” Eddie grumbles, closing his eyes again.

“Yeah, no shit, moron,” Steve says, but he’s laughing a little, and Eddie snorts, coughing. He turns his head so he isn’t coughing into Steve’s face.

“Fuck.”

“You’re gonna be okay,” Steve says softly.

Eddie sighs, relaxing into the bed as Steve touches his face again, squeezing his hand. His fingertips brush over his forehead and cheek and the bridge of his nose.

But with you in my life You're the reason I'm alive

Eddie slowly turns his head toward the music, squinting in the bright lights of the hospital that reflect off the sterile walls and while blankets that are covering his body. There’s a walkman next to him on the bed, the chord of the headphones tangled as the music plays quietly but loud enough to be heard. Eddie closes his eyes again, smiling softly.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t mind glam metal,” Steve says. Eddie can hear his smile. “Pretentious fucker.”

Eddie laughs weakly again, coughing.

“I don’t mind,” he whispers.

He turns his face into Steve’s palm and kisses it. And then his face flushes with heat as Steve leans down and presses his lips to his forehead. He wants to hide behind his hair, but he’s too tired to reach up to pull it across his face, and then he doesn’t really want to hide as Steve smiles at him with this softness in his eyes that no one’s ever looked at Eddie with before.

“I thought they were gonna follow us through,” Eddie says quietly. “The— The bats. ‘S why I stayed.”

Steve squeezes his hand.

“I told you not to be a hero,” he whispers.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

Steve kisses his forehead again, and then he leans over Eddie, pressing their foreheads together.

“You’re okay,” he breathes, so softly that it seems like it’s to himself.

Eddie sighs, focussing on the pressure of Steve’s forehead against his, of Steve’s fingers twisted around his. He smells like expensive soap, citrusy and warm.

“You wanna go to a Sabbath gig with me someday?” he mumbles. Steve laughs softly.

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Cool.”

[gayofthefae]

As far as tiny proof they like to argue instead of the big stuff to debunk, like the lip looks, sure, maybe an accident, but what I can't get over is this:

That is such a specific character choice. An eyes-open kiss. As an actor, even, you have to actively choose to override your instinct to close your eyes. A lip look is one thing - I look at people's lips to read them to help with audio processing difficulties. Sometimes people are just examining your facial expression. There are lots of passive, alternate reasons to do lots of things.

But Finn Wolfhard had to override his eyes' instinct to close in order to do this. That is a very specific, highly motivated choice that needs strong justification. It is either directed specifically or he knows this about Mike strongly enough to not fear an exchange of 'hey, why the fuck are you doing that?' 'he's gay to me' 'what? don't do things like that'

It is Finn Wolfhard's place to interpret, not headcanon characters. So either he made this choice based off of the confirmed knowledge that Mike's feelings inform it or he was specifically asked to do it.

Either way, keeping your eyes open in a kiss is in no way a passive thing to do. And in no way a hesitant, throw away, or experimental acting choice in a scene. It has to be specific, justified, and highly confident to even try in the first place.

But he did this every take. Maybe even instinctively closed his eyes one take and they had to call cut and shoot it again.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Steve was doing this for Robin.

He had to keep telling himself this. He could get through the day, the weekend, life, if he just kept repeating this to himself.

But an hour into their day, his pants ripped.

Not in a place it can be hidden, not a small one.

Right along his ass.

And because Robin insisted he’d be fine, he didn’t bring a bag with a change of clothes.

He could buy some, sure, if he wanted to spend $60 on special convention sweatpants that would be entirely too hot, unflattering, and ruin the costume Robin insisted he wear to match hers.

He was hiding in the bathroom currently, furiously texting Robin to let her know he was just going to stay there until it was time to leave.

She’d be mad at him, but she’d be more mad at herself for not letting him bring a change of clothes.

His pants weren’t even tight. Luke Skywalker doesn’t exactly wear tight clothes. He had no reason behind the rip other than the universe just hating him as much as possible.

Robin told him she would find someone to help, whatever that means, but he didn’t think that was possible without just buying new pants.

He stood in the corner of the continuously crowded bathroom, trying not to draw attention, but knowing it was incredibly odd to just stand in the corner of a public bathroom.

Ten minutes passed and a guy walked in with a backpack and a sign that says “Free Cosplay Repair” and Steve knew what Robin had done.

The man was pretty, and not dressed up, but seemed like he wished he was. Maybe it was difficult to repair if he was wearing some elaborate costume.

Steve didn’t know how this worked.

“Are you Steve?”

Steve nodded.

His voice was calming, and Steve instantly trusted him to fix the problem.

“Heard you’ve got a bit of a problem with the costume. Big or small?”

“Uh. Pretty big, man.”

“Ah. Tear along the ass, then. Happens all the time.”

He set his backpack down and started rummaging through the front pocket. When he pulled out a sewing kit, Steve realized he was going to have to get this fixed in a public bathroom with this very attractive man staring at and touching his ass for who knows how long.

“Um.”

“It’ll be better if you can take them off. I’ll be able to sew it much faster.”

Steve couldn’t just stand around in his boxers. That was not part of the plan or the agreement with Robin. People were coming and going from the bathroom at a rapid rate.

“Is there somewhere private we can go?”

“Awww, Stevie, feeling shy?”

Steve’s face was beet red. He was feeling a little shy, and being called out on it by a hot guy kind of made him think about being called out on other things in other ways and his brain was not doing well.

“My name’s Eddie. I come with my friend Chrissy to a bunch of these every year. We have a tent set up on the show floor for privacy, but you’d have to walk to it. I could walk behind you if you want?”

“Oh. Okay. Um. Sure.”

It was better than standing half naked in this bathroom.

So they left, and Eddie stayed right behind him, covering him from possible exposure to the growing crowd.

He would lean forward and direct him to the tent every few seconds, leaving goosebumps behind from how close he got to his ear to be heard.

When they arrived, Chrissy was finishing up with supergluing something to a mask. Eddie touched her shoulder and whispered something to her. She rolled her eyes and smiled at him before turning back to the person she was helping.

Eddie nudged Steve into their tent.

“Alright, shouldn’t take too long. Take them off, Luke.”

Steve rolled his eyes but followed directions. The faster this was done, the faster he could get back to Robin, who was probably so deep into the crowd by now that he’d never find her anyways.

Maybe he should just stay here. Learn to sew. Become a part of their traveling repair team.

They seemed nice enough.

Eddie got started immediately, and Steve was grateful for the privacy the tent provided. He sat down on a stool they had set up in the corner and put his hands in his lap, covering as much of himself as he could. He was definitely not confident in this place.

He’d embraced that he liked some nerdy things. He was fine with it.

But he was way out of his element here.

“You come to these a lot?”

“No. Just supporting my friend.”

“Explains not being as prepared as the pros.”

“I did try to be. My friend said I’d be fine. Don’t know why I listened to her.”

Eddie snorted. “She a friend or a…friend?”

Steve laughed so loudly, Eddie jumped. “Sorry. She’s very much not straight and I am very much not interested.”

“Is she Leia?”

“Yeah.”

“Everyone will assume you’re together, you know?”

“Yeah, well. She said I had to and I owed her.”

“Must’ve done you a big favor.”

“You could say that.”

Eddie’s hands were moving quickly, and Steve couldn’t help watching in amazement.

“How long have you been doing this?”

“What? Sewing? Or conventions?”

“Both.”

Eddie smiled while he worked.

“Sewing since I was 11. I was in charge of fixing my and my uncle’s clothes since we couldn’t really afford new ones unless I outgrew them. Then in high school I did costumes for drama and cheerleaders. That’s how I met Chrissy. She was a secret nerd so she took me to a convention and I saw too many people crying over broken and torn cosplays so I started doing this.”

“For free?”

“Yeah. I already had most of the supplies on hand and I’m not using them all so why not?”

“That’s really…kind.”

He saw Eddie’s cheeks blush, but he didn’t comment.

Maybe he’d gain some upper hand here despite being half naked in a tent with a stranger.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“It kind of is, man. Just take the compliment. It’s really selfless.”

“Okay. Yeah. I guess. Thanks.”

They settled into a comfortable silence and Steve really took in the tent. There were things hanging up that he vaguely recognized as D&D monsters from Dustin’s room.

“Hey, the kid I babysit is into that.”

“What?”

“The dungeons game.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I think he even has that exact print in his room.”

“No shit? I made these. I have an Etsy shop.”

“You’re kidding. He’s gonna freak out that I met you.”

“Well, shit. Take one for him.”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that.”

“Yeah you could. I’m not letting you leave until you do.”

Steve felt his heart flutter.

Dustin was like his little brother and he loved him so much. Any time someone did something kind for him, it melted his heart.

He didn’t have time for feelings for a stranger.

Not at a convention where he was the outcast.

“I guess if you insist.”

“I do.”

Steve was a fucking mess. Emotionally, he was the type to get really attached really quickly. It’s why all of his relationships ended within weeks. He was ready to be completely committed and they never were. He fell hard and fast for anyone who showed him even a tiny bit of interest.

He had to get out of this tent.

“I’m not rushing you, but how much longer?”

“I’m almost done. Few more minutes. Doing okay?”

“Yeah. Just wanna find Robin.”

“Text her to meet you here. She knows where it is.”

“How would she know that?”

“I’ve met her a few times at other conventions and she always stops by to say hello.”

Robin knew this guy?

Suddenly, he realized what was going on.

She was setting him up.

“Take your time. She can wait.”

Eddie slowed his hands and looked up at Steve.

“Uh. Okay.”

“She’s a traitor who did this to me on purpose.”

“Ripped your pants?”

“Yes.”

Eddie stopped what he was doing completely.

“She ripped your pants on purpose? How would she have done that?”

“She pulled a seam out or something.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Because she’s trying to set us up.”

“Us?!”

“Yep. Sorry. I promise I don’t expect anything. She just does this sometimes. Thinks I’m lonely or whatever.”

Eddie searched his face for a minute, then looked back down at his work.

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Lonely.”

Well, yeah. Robin didn’t get the assumption from nowhere. But he didn’t really want to admit that to a stranger.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Apparently, he was going to anyways.

“Hm.”

“Hm?”

“Mhm.”

Steve huffed out a breath.

Eddie stood suddenly and came over to Steve, pushing his shoulder back and his legs apart so he could fit between them.

Eddie’s hand cupped his chin, pulling it up so he could look at him.

Steve gulped.

He was feeling more than vulnerable at this point and wasn’t sure what to do about it.

“Your friend must really love you to want to make sure you aren’t lonely.”

“Um. Yeah.”

“You know, I’m taking a lunch break in about an hour if you wanna hang around. I could use some company.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. One condition though.”

“What’s that?”

“You take the pants off again.”

Steve laughed and Eddie couldn’t help the smile he aimed down at him.

“You want me to eat in just my boxers?”

“Well, not just your boxers. That’ll be later at the hotel.”

God, this guy was good. Smoother than Steve’s ever been and he was known for his charming nature for years.

“You think I’ll come back to your hotel?”

“I know you will.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I only temporarily fixed these pants. The stuff you need is back at my room.”

“What if I don’t care about the pants?”

“All the more reason to leave them off when you come to my room.”

They smiled at each other.

Steve felt brave. He felt a little ridiculous. Most of all, he felt like he couldn’t pass up the opportunity literally staring him in the face.

He leaned up a bit more and waited for Eddie to lean down.

When their lips met, Steve knew he was completely fucked.

Robin had fucked him over and he’d never been so grateful.

[lighthouseas]

established byler going clothes shopping together and mike tries on a leather jacket that he's kind of Unsure in. like he isn't sure if it looks good on him. so of course he consults will and is like hey how does this look ? (while doing a little flex ofc) and will is so error 404 cannot compute system shutdown about it. like. mike is waving a hand in his face , starting to get worried because he thinks will hates it and will is just 😳😳😳😳😳😳😳 because All he can think about is the outline of mike's arms in the jacket and how it matches his hair and Oh Dear He Has Forgotten To Respond .

so instead, he just pulls mike into the nearest dressing room and lets him know how much he likes it with a makeout session CIVILIZED CONVERSATION

[lunabug2004]

Something I've noticed recently is the difference in which people notice or think/talk about Nancy and Mike's survivor's guilt.

People seem to be much more open to the notion of Nancy having survivor's guilt, also they tend to pick up on it easier, and I think the reason for this Nancy actually kinda demonstrates herself in s2, when talking to Jonathan when she says "Yeah, but it's different for you. Will came home."

Now, Mike feels survivor's guilt in connection to both Will and El, and Nancy for Barb, and the difference between them is that both Will and El actually survive. But the thing that people tend to forget is that Mike saw Will's "dead body", he saw El disappear in front of his own eyes just to not hear from her for almost a year, he saw his best friend's body and mind be taken over by a terrifying monster (who he had just told he wouldn't let happen to him a day or so before). So, yes, El and Will may not be dead, but in any case, esp in Mike's 11-14 year old brain, that doesn't really mean much at all. Mental illnesses don't go away just because the thing that caused them did. I mean, that's legitimately what PTSD is!

Talking about s2 specifically for example, even at the beginning of the season, most of the GA already knew that El was still alive, but knew for sure that Barb was dead. The show parallels Nancy and Mike in ep 1, with Nancy crying in Barb's house and Mike looking terribly upset while boxing up toys in his basement. Despite this parallel though, most people I've watched only pick up on Nancy's survivor's guilt. Even though Mike goes on to try and contact El, who he still (mostly) believes is dead, lots of people just go "aw that's sad" or "aw that's sweet" and move on.

Idk if it's just because he's younger, or that, as I said before, the audience knows El is still alive, but it's always seemed to me that people don't take Mike's mental health problems as seriously as they take Nancy's when really, they're in a very similar boat.

[putting-eddie-munson-in-places]

🙋🏻‍♀️🙋🏻‍♀️🙋🏻‍♀️please put him in blues clues (the og with Steve). Thanks 😊

What do YOU think these clues mean?

(drawn eddie under the cut!)

[greenfiend]

The persecutor