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I can be trusted with photo mode

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VIP backstage meet and greet

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steve (steddie) era is back

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It’s been two months since Eddie died.

Green waning to yellows, reds and browns litter the roads, the warm breeze slowly turning into a frigit bite when the afternoon diminishes to night, and birds caw from their lonely tree tops as Steve walks through the cemetery. Ashen gravestones jutting out of the ground like bones. Disturbing. Beautiful.

He tightens his hand around the bucket of soapy water as he climbs the hill, breath coming out in short huffs, until he reaches the top. The bouquet of flowers in his other hand swinging gently beside him.

Underneath the shade of an old oak tree, its branches reaching and protecting, is the slate-gray stone Steve has been visiting every week.

The white daffodils left by Wayne yesterday are torn and scattered. Ugly-red paint is slashed across the stone like an open wound. Steve drops the bucket gently beside it, the wet soil soaking his jeans as he pulls on the rubber gloves he got two weeks ago. He gets to work.

Inhale.

I love you.

Exhale.

“You’ve been cleaning it,” Steve turns to Dustin's voice behind him. The boy is quieter now, his shoulders hunching inward.

Guilt rises up.

Hot. Sick.

He should have been around more.

“Yeah,” Steve swallows. “It’s the least I can do for him. And for Wayne.”

Dustin nods, kneeling beside Steve. A bouquet of purple hyacinths in his lap. “You got another sponge in there?”

Steve tries for a smile. “I have a toothbrush,” he says, fishing it out of the bucket and handing it to Dustin.

“You gotta be careful, the bristles might damage it if you scrub too hard,” he adds.

They fall into silence as they gently scrub away the paint. The afternoon light slowly dwindling into the horizon. Dustin shivers as a chill wind breezes past them.

The gravestone, once again, is clean.

They stand together, at Eddie’s feet.

-

From my fic The World Ends and Starts With You. Give it a read if you want.

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Sam Reid as Lestat de Lioncourt The Vampire Lestat

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A lot of booktook smut is easy to make fun of but generally I think women jerking off is a good and righteous thing. Yet another example of things that are embarrassing also being cool. Lotta complex thoughts to think out there. Be safe. I love you.

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*walks around

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It's a fuckin' meet cute.

Steve hits Eddie with his car (on accident, he swears) while Eddie is going to a Corroded Coffin jam session.

Eddie apologises for not looking where he was going (cause I bet that guy never looks both ways before crossing the road). Even though Steve was distracted by... I don't know Robin being drunk and basically going "hey you ever think you're like bi?"

So it was both their faults cause they're both idiots.

And then Eddie pops his shoulder back in while making a joke about how his football dreams are shattered and Steve is like "shit, I think I'm fuckin' bi." Eddie's guitar is destroyed so to make amends Steve works really hard to buy Eddie a new one.

That's all I got so far.

good news i'm the most fuckable person at this vehicular manslaughter

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Me putting Wayne centric scenes in every fic

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First look at The Vampire Lestat (2026)

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He bounds downstairs two at a time, slips on the new pair of Nikes he bought the other day, and flings the door open—

To Eddie.

And Steve’s heart slows at the sight.

He knows—like a statement of fact—that he will never get tired of looking at him.

Eddie’s mess of curls is haphazardly tied in a bun, strands falling loose to frame his face. A black cut-off shirt reveals tattoos Steve knows by heart, peeking through the fabric. Ripped jeans. The silver of his handcuff belt and his rings glint under the yellow porchlight.

“I didn’t know what your favourite flower was,” Eddie says nervously, “so—”

He holds out a bouquet, and Steve has no idea what their names are, but he loves them: fire-reds, blushing pinks, egg-yolk yellows, citrus orange. A bundle of fireworks.

Steve takes them, and for a moment allows himself to swim in the scent of sweetness and earth. No one has given him flowers before, and there must be something in his eyes as he smiles at Eddie. Something that makes Eddie kiss him like this:

Long. Slow.

“We should get going,” Eddie sighs, pulling away like it takes effort.

“I’ll take those,” Robin says, already grabbing the bouquet from Steve.

And with a smile, Steve waves goodbye to the closing door of his parents’ house.

Hands held together down the driveway.

Separating as Steve slides into the passenger seat, Eddie driving —

And returning.

Easy as that.

They have dinner at the local Chinese restaurant on Main Street, just across from Hawk Cinema, and Steve’s cheeks hurt from laughing at Eddie struggling with the chopsticks. He wants to reach out, fold his fingers around Eddie’s, and show him how.

But the President had said, “maybe the Lord brought down this plague.“

And Hawkins is a small town.

So he sits, and laughs, and wants.

They grab popcorn and sodas, walk together up the aisle to the back of the cinema, and sit in the dark. At least, Steve tries to follow the story — Arnold Swarzneggar, machismo and muscle, is fighting an invisible enemy in the jungle somewhere in Central America.

But Eddie is next to him, whispering jokes in his ear, his hand laid on the armrest between them. And if Eddie were a girl it wouldn’t be as scary. It would be like breathing, to hold hands in the dark of a cinema.

His heart is beating against his ribs because blood runs through his veins, and he’s alive with Eddie, in this small, weird town in Indiana.

And he thinks: I have fought monsters greater than the President.

He smooths his fingertips over Eddie’s hand, and it’s no big declaration. No one stands up to scream.

Eddie just turns his hand, and their fingers lace. Warm. Home.

End credits.

-

From my fic The World Ends and Starts With You. It's about grief and living in the absence of someone. I'm actually quite proud of my writing in this one.

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He bounds downstairs two at a time, slips on the new pair of Nikes he bought the other day, and flings the door open—

To Eddie.

And Steve’s heart slows at the sight.

He knows—like a statement of fact—that he will never get tired of looking at him.

Eddie’s mess of curls is haphazardly tied in a bun, strands falling loose to frame his face. A black cut-off shirt reveals tattoos Steve knows by heart, peeking through the fabric. Ripped jeans. The silver of his handcuff belt and his rings glint under the yellow porchlight.

“I didn’t know what your favourite flower was,” Eddie says nervously, “so—”

He holds out a bouquet, and Steve has no idea what their names are, but he loves them: fire-reds, blushing pinks, egg-yolk yellows, citrus orange. A bundle of fireworks.

Steve takes them, and for a moment allows himself to swim in the scent of sweetness and earth. No one has given him flowers before, and there must be something in his eyes as he smiles at Eddie. Something that makes Eddie kiss him like this:

Long. Slow.

“We should get going,” Eddie sighs, pulling away like it takes effort.

“I’ll take those,” Robin says, already grabbing the bouquet from Steve.

And with a smile, Steve waves goodbye to the closing door of his parents’ house.

Hands held together down the driveway.

Separating as Steve slides into the passenger seat, Eddie driving —

And returning.

Easy as that.

They have dinner at the local Chinese restaurant on Main Street, just across from Hawk Cinema, and Steve’s cheeks hurt from laughing at Eddie struggling with the chopsticks. He wants to reach out, fold his fingers around Eddie’s, and show him how.

But the President had said, “maybe the Lord brought down this plague.“

And Hawkins is a small town.

So he sits, and laughs, and wants.

They grab popcorn and sodas, walk together up the aisle to the back of the cinema, and sit in the dark. At least, Steve tries to follow the story — Arnold Swarzneggar, machismo and muscle, is fighting an invisible enemy in the jungle somewhere in Central America.

But Eddie is next to him, whispering jokes in his ear, his hand laid on the armrest between them. And if Eddie were a girl it wouldn’t be as scary. It would be like breathing, to hold hands in the dark of a cinema.

His heart is beating against his ribs because blood runs through his veins, and he’s alive with Eddie, in this small, weird town in Indiana.

And he thinks: I have fought monsters greater than the President.

He smooths his fingertips over Eddie’s hand, and it’s no big declaration. No one stands up to scream.

Eddie just turns his hand, and their fingers lace. Warm. Home.

End credits.

-

From my fic The World Ends and Starts With You. It's about grief and living in the absence of someone. I'm actually quite proud of my writing in this one.

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Hello, I have posted a new fic on AO3. It's completed and all of the chapters are up. I'm super proud of this one. Give it a read if you like. The World Ends and Starts With You (10123 words) by Zero_Sparrow Chapters: 7/7 Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Dustin Henderson, Wayne Munson, Nancy Wheeler Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Pre-Season/Series 04, Post-Season/Series 04, Grief/Mourning, Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, One Shot, Poetry, Internalized Homophobia, Period-Typical Homophobia, POV Steve Harrington Summary: This is a story about love. This is a story about death. It’s about learning how to live with absence. It’s about friendship, grief and memory.

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Hello, I have posted a new fic on AO3. It's completed and all of the chapters are up. I'm super proud of this one. Give it a read if you like. The World Ends and Starts With You (10123 words) by Zero_Sparrow Chapters: 7/7 Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Dustin Henderson, Wayne Munson, Nancy Wheeler Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Pre-Season/Series 04, Post-Season/Series 04, Grief/Mourning, Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, One Shot, Poetry, Internalized Homophobia, Period-Typical Homophobia, POV Steve Harrington Summary: This is a story about love. This is a story about death. It’s about learning how to live with absence. It’s about friendship, grief and memory.

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I love explicit fanfic. I love smutty shipping. I love horny one shots. I love filthy erotic nasty longfics.

I love character or plot driven fic that uses sex as a tool for characterization, conflict and catharsis, and I love fic that exists solely to be hot and sexy.

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So much gender envy over Sam Reid and Lestat.

Monsieur le Rockstar