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#stranger things on twitter
st-twitter-sillies · 6 months
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hi, im eden
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mikeslawyer · 1 year
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these two incorrect ST tweets are just so in character for them u can’t say no
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tastytoecheese · 2 years
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First thing you see after you zoom in is how you die
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How you dying 👀
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animentality · 1 year
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crispyliza · 1 month
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I've got you all figured out fanartists
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plistommy · 22 days
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greatunironic · 1 month
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eddie wakes up in a strange room. this was not particularly unusual for him, historically: he’d spent most of his twenties waking up in new and interesting places (including a handful of jail cells). but after eddie, the label, and the los angeles superior court system decided it would be best if he stopped drinking and doing blow, it stopped being such a regular occurrence.
so it’s almost alarming to him, now, to be blinking up at an unfamiliar cement ceiling with the raging bitch of all headaches and generally feeling like he got hit by a truck, got whiplash in a crash with the way his neck aches. he’d think he was hungover like all those times before except for how sharp the pain is, bright.
he worries, briefly, he’s relapsed, or someone’s slipped him something. but he remembers what him and the boys had been up to, before this, and he thinks it’d’ve been a strange night indeed if someone roofied a c-list (b-list if he’s feeling charitable) musician at a fucking frozen four game.
because yeah, eddie remembers: they’d been third row, watching the wisconsin ladies clean up and cheering for jeff’s kid sister like she was about to get olympic gold. (she probably would, someday. her and that mayfield girl who played defense were looking down the barrel at a 2026 run apparently.
eddie’s been to a handful of games over the years, when touring and recording allows them to go. he’s resolutely never been a sports guy but he’ll admit, when pressed, that live hockey is pretty dope. to say nothing, of course, of how jeff would probably murder them all in their sleep if they didn’t rep the red and white for lottie.
(and also — and this is between eddie and his god alright — but lottie’s coach? standing back there in his suit, hair styled and dialed, snapping his gum, yelling at the refs? kind of doing it for him, okay. worth the price of admission, even if the tickets weren’t free.)
when he thinks harder — which hurts too — the last thing he clearly remembers was someone from the beavers scoring, bringing their lead to 5-1, and a slapshot from the other team getting out over the boards and nearly taking out some lady’s popcorn. someone behind them in the seats said, “jesus they’re getting desperate, eh?”
then shit goes dark on him, not even a fade to black, but a full on smash cut, roll credits black, and the post-credits scene is where ever the fuck eddie is at the moment. it smells like human and cold and icy hot, so obviously, he thinks, he died and went to hell like all the church ladies said he would back in hawkins, or probably just a locker room. what the fuck?
he blinks at the ceiling, at an interesting water stain on the cement texturing. he’s in the middle of wondering where the rest of his band has gone if he’s here alone, fucking abandoners, when a sweaty redhead with the bitchiest expression he’s maybe ever seen enters his field of vision.
“you’re alive,” she says.
eddie blinks again. “why do you sound so disappointed?”
“yo coach!” she shouts, already on the move away from him. “he’s alive!”
he tries to sit up, but that makes the pain in his head worse, and also draws attention to the fact that his back also hurts. he squeezes his eyes shut and makes a truly embarrassing noise of pain — if pressed, he’d call it a whimper — and a pair of big hands land on his shoulders.
“out, out ladies i got this! hey!, hey, man, don’t move just yet,” says big hands.
“yeah, no problem, i don’t want to anymore,” eddie says. he stirs up the will to open his eyes again and very nearly slams them back shut. because of course the person staring down at him is fucking coach hottie snackycakes himself. he’s even better looking in person, too, big droopy eyes, lips as pink as his bubblegum, and shiny, jesus christ. he’s still got eddie by the shoulders, hands warm through the thin cotton of his flannel and tee — because eddie’s always been more fashion than sense, wayne always said, and it’s even worse now that the paps are on him—
“oh, fuck this is gonna be all over tiktok later, isn’t it?” he moans.
“maybe not.”
“don’t lie.”
“listen, eddie — it is eddie, right?” asks coach hottie. “i’m steve. coach harrington. faughnsie — lottie, i mean — she said you’re eddie. her brother’s guitarist? what do you remember?”
“more like he’s my singer,” he says, “but sure. and not much.”
“well, you’re gonna be okay,” says coach hottie — steve. “it really wasn’t that bad, and it was probably too fast for anyone to get it, unless they already had a camera on you. you took a puck to the head when one popped up. i’d apologize but it wasn’t one of my girls who did it, so. anyway — you weren’t out for long, which robbie says is good — she’ll get a look at you in a second — but you got your bell rung pretty good. and you’re gonna have quite the shiner, trust me.”
“speaking from experience?”
“oh, yeah. closer and faster too.” he gently raps his head with his knuckles. “too many concussions too early ended my nhl days, in fact.”
“oh. oh shit, sorry, i—“
“don’t worry about it, man, it happens,” he says. “and if it hadn’t, i wouldn’t be here.”
“at the frozen four.”
“yeah, sure, that too.”
“what?”
“what?” steve waves him off. “anyway, i’m just glad to see you up, ish, and talking. looked pretty scary, from the bench.”
“i really don’t remember,” says eddie. “but i’m sure i’ll see it on tiktok later, like i said — at least, my unconscious, bleeding form.”
“i got up there pretty fast, so i doubt it,” says steve.
eddie blinks, twice. “you—?”
“you were behind my bench, and you. well,” he says with a shrug, but he’s clearly a little embarrassed, finally putting those hands away — weapons of eddie destruction, he thinks — and shoving them into his pockets of his tight slacks. “i should be getting back out there.”
“do you? you’re murdering them pretty good, unless i black out and missed them getting four more goals,” eddie says.
the corners of steve’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. eddie thinks he might just pass out again. “no, we’re still gonna cinch it, i think. looks bad, though — first time coach missing the final period so’s he can hit on the cute musician who got his clock cleaned by the biscuit.”
“oh,” he says. swallows. “uh.”
steve’s crinkly, smiley eyes go wide. “unless—“
“no less!” eddie shouts and then immediately winces. at a better, less damaging to his more than slightly concussed noggin, volume, he says, “more, actually. because pretty sure i shouldn’t be left unsupervised, and i’ve clearly been abandoned by the band, so—“
“so,” says steve.
“coach, two minutes!” someone calls.
“so, i was hoping maybe i could keep hitting on the hot hockey coach back at his?”
“i’m at the ramada inn,” he says, “and i got tape to watch for the finals.”
“i live for room service,” eddie tells him seriously. “and i’m suddenly very into wisconsin sports teams.”
“coach! go time!”
“yeah?” he asks.
“yeah.”
“COACH!”
he jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “i gotta — but, uh, later?”
“pick me up in twenty?”
“probably more like half an hour, with stoppage,” he says.
someone bangs on the door. “COACH!! let’s boogie!!”
with one last look, wide eyed and smiling, steve leaves. eddie watches him go. he’d heard hockey players were caked up but lord — eddie is about to convert to a new religion, or maybe found one, over the stretch of those slacks.
“damn,” he says quietly.
“gross,” a woman says. eddie startles and looks to the side, where a lanky brunette with a bob and an undercut is staring at him, unimpressed. she’s in some get up that screams athletic trainer, and there’s a white board in her hand.
“how long have you been there?” he asks.
she raises an eyebrow. “long enough, and honestly, i don’t know if that counts as a you rule for him, or a you suck for you,” she says and does not elaborate when he asks. “also don’t look at him like that. it’s steve. he’s basically my sister.”
“yeah? any tips then?” asks eddie. “i promise i’ll only use them for good. well. mostly.”
“god,” she says with an expansive eye roll. “you’re gonna be a nightmare, aren’t you?”
a cheer goes up outside the room as the teams, presumably, take the ice again. eddie, head throbbing, concussed, embarrassed, grins. “sure hope so,” he says.
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rebelspykatie · 9 months
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Robin convinces Steve that Eddie is interested in him, just based on how frequently he flirts with Steve. Uses the same logic that Steve deployed to convince her to give Vickie a shot. Except, there’s no doubt about who Eddie could be attracted to. He’s gay and doesn’t really flirt much with women, keeps it more surface level. 
But with Steve, he’s all over him, getting in his personal space, tapping his chin, batting his eyelashes and draping himself over his lap during movie nights. Steve’s confident in his newly discovered attraction to men, and subtly tries to turn up the charm on his end. Flirting back, giving as good as he gets, but it never seems to affect Eddie. 
Steve’s gotten used to striking out. Never really catching anyone’s attention these days, what with the lackluster attempts at being interested in the mundane things some of the girls drone on about, to being afraid to sleep over for fear of a nightmare tearing him from sleep, to the way no one makes his skin buzz. He’s given up the pursuit of anyone else, setting his sights on Eddie, pushing gently at the boundaries that barely exist between them. 
Until the first time Steve and Robin are invited to see Corroded Coffin perform at the Hideout. He watches from afar as Eddie bounces across the room before the show. He hasn’t spotted them yet as he makes his way over to the bar. There’s a cute, older guy bartending, probably in his late twenties, buzz cut hair, ripped leather vest accentuating his arms. 
Steve watches in what feels like slow motion as Eddie leans over the counter to get as close as possible to this guy. That mischievous smirk that Steve’s used to seeing pointed at him is out in full force. Eddie is saying something, looking up at this guy, reaching out to squeeze a bicep and getting playfully batted away. Eddie lets the guy tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, almost a caress along the side of Eddie’s face. 
And there’s a moment where Steve feels like he’s floating on air, suspended in a moment in time before a catastrophic shift changes his trajectory. He’s careening to the ground at break neck speed and crash landing all in a matter of seconds. A vice-like grip squeezes his heart, reminding him that he’s not special. He’s dissecting every memory of Eddie flirting, finding nothing consequential there in the wake of this discovery. 
How stupid could he have been to think that it meant anything? That must be why Eddie never reacted to his advances, they were just a blip on his radar. He’s got this guy wrapped around his finger, just like he’s had Steve. Except Eddie’s never blushed like that around him, or let Steve tuck his hair away. 
As much as he wants to turn around and get the hell out of here, he promised he’d come to Eddie’s show, even if looking at Eddie right now feels like a shot straight through his heart. That inexplicable draw to Eddie doesn’t just disappear. He wants to cross the room and drag him away from this guy, but what right does he have to do that? 
He feels Robin’s hand slip into his, turns to look at her, sees a mirror image of how she looked on the grimy bathroom floor of Starcourt, letting Steve down gently. Their friendship past the point of needing to verbally communicate anything. Robin gently tugs on his arm to convince him to sit at a table, clasping his hand underneath it tightly when Eddie finally spots them and Steve has to pretend like he’s fine. And he is fine. 
But he’s also not. His heart is cracking open with each note Eddie sings, the fault line growing until it feels like he’s split in two, bleeding out on the floor of this disgusting bar. When is he going to get it right? When is it his turn to feel wanted? Nancy and Robin hurt, but he feels blindsided by this one. He was so confident he was right, that this time it was reciprocated. 
But maybe he’ll always be the fool.
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ruinedchildhood · 2 years
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st-twitter-sillies · 6 months
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cancer :(
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starrystevie · 27 days
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eddie’s going on a tinder date with a cute guy named steve.
he likes his freckles, brown eyes and cheeky grin. they don’t have much in common but the conversations they have in the app messages flows suspiciously easily. he’s a bit in love and antsy at the table as he watches the door anxiously for his date.
he sees person after person walk into the bar and his beer is dripping condensation onto his hand as he grips it, nerves shooting through the roof. eddie glances at the table and then back up to the door when a guy walks in and if eddie wasn’t waiting for his date, he’d want to go talk to him.
he’s cute, hot even, floppy brown hair and a charming grin, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat as he looks around the bar. his shirt clings to him in just the right way and his jeans fit him a bit too perfectly. eddie can’t help but stare and then the guy is staring back while he waves, ducking his head as he walks over.
“hey, eddie,” the man breathes out, his cheeks tinged pink from the wind. “sorry i'm late. parking was a bitch.”
and eddie’s confused. because this guy has brown eyes but not the ones he expected. freckles that are more spread out and distinct, trailing down to his neck instead of blanketing his face. his smile is perfect and he’s looking at eddie like he knows him. eddie’s a bit stunned, gaping at the guy with a slack jaw, because he’d remember someone as handsome as him if they’d met before.
“…hi?” he says like it's a question, taking a sip of his beer to do something with his hands.
he watches as the man’s eyebrows crease in confusion and the way his shirt stretches over his chest as he takes off his jacket. “it’s- i’m steve? you are eddie, right?”
eddie can feel his own eyebrows raising, wiping off his damp hand to fish his phone out of his pocket. he quickly finds steve’s profile, ignoring the messages they've sent each other over the past weeks that leave his stomach filled with butterflies, and pulls up the profile picture steve uploaded.
looking at it closely, he glances at who he thinks is steve, at the freckles dusting over his face and the toothy grin he's flashing at the camera. he's not exactly they type eddie usually goes for, but he's witty and sweet and knows about dnd, apparently, so what's not to love?
but then he looks at the other person in the picture that's slightly out of focused next to ‘steve’. looks at the two moles stark on the side of his neck, his pink tinted cheeks. the floopy brown hair and the pretty brown eyes and-
“steve?!” eddie exclaims, looking between the man in front of him and the picture on his phone. “you’re steve?”
the guy- steve- grins sheepishly, leaning on his elbows over the table to look at eddie’s eyes phone. he’s close, too close, close enough that eddie wants to-
“ohh,” he says and scratches at the back oh his head, eyes downturned with a blush trailing up his neck. “yeah, maybe i shouldn’t have used a group photo for a dating app.”
“so who did i think you were?”
their eyes meet and even in the dim bar light, eddie finds himself falling into the specks of green he sees. steve looks at the phone quickly then back up with a smirk. “my best friend, tommy. he’s kind of an asshole, though. you’re better off with me.”
“is that so?” eddie leans back, taking a sip of his beer, and really takes in his date that he now knows is steve. his toned arms, his broad shoulders, his pretty pink cheeks and pretty pink lips.
“what, are you disappointed?”
steve smiles gently and it lights up his face in a way eddie isn’t expecting. between the way he looks in a dingy bar and the way talking with steve is easier than any date he’s had before, he can’t imagine what disappointment he could ever possibly feel knowing that his date is who he is.
suddenly there’s a foot hooking around his ankle and it sends goosebumps tingling up his spine. steve’s smile softens just a bit and eddie can feel himself mirroring it back, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“i don’t think disappointed’s the right word.”
crossposted on twitter!
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hardysbitch · 2 years
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Soooooo, aren't we gonna talk about this?
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@/thatbabybunni on twitter
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aexphr · 2 years
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steve keeps his favourite pictures safe together in his car. it’s nice to be reminded of happier times
the manip is my own but the polaroid is by @fefemunson​ !! they are incredibly talented please go check out their other work
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animentality · 6 months
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lazylittledragon · 1 year
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more steddie/buzzfeed unsolved!!
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kaiminluu · 1 year
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hello tumblr here are some mikes and wills :)))
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