Steve Harrington Has Kenergy

If you want more about Jonathan's Music taste, it's here

there’s a lotta unrealistic shit about stranger things but i think jonathan not knowing siouxsie sioux is the worst thing

I used to work for a trade book reviewer where I got paid to review people's books, and one of the rules of that review company is one that I think is just super useful to media analysis as a whole, and that is, we were told never to critique media for what it didn't do but only for what it did.

So, for instance, I couldn't say "this book didn't give its characters strong agency or goals". I instead had to say, "the characters in this book acted in ways that often felt misaligned with their characterization as if they were being pulled by the plot."

I think this is really important because a lot of "critiques" people give, if subverted to address what the book does instead of what it doesn't do, actually read pretty nonsensical. For instance, "none of the characters were unique" becomes "all of the characters read like other characters that exist in other media", which like... okay? That's not really a critique. It's just how fiction works. Or "none of the characters were likeable" becomes "all of the characters, at some point or another, did things that I found disagreeable or annoying" which is literally how every book works?

It also keeps you from holding a book to a standard it never sought to meet. "The world building in this book simply wasn't complex enough" becomes "The world building in this book was very simple", which, yes, good, that can actually be a good thing. Many books aspire to this. It's not actually a negative critique. Or "The stakes weren't very high and the climax didn't really offer any major plot twists or turns" becomes "The stakes were low and and the ending was quite predictable", which, if this is a cute romcom is exactly what I'm looking for.

Not to mention, I think this really helps to deconstruct a lot of the biases we carry into fiction. Characters not having strong agency isn't inherently bad. Characters who react to their surroundings can make a good story, so saying "the characters didn't have enough agency" is kind of weak, but when you flip it to say "the characters acted misaligned from their characterization" we can now see that the *real* problem here isn't that they lacked agency but that this lack of agency is inconsistent with the type of character that they are. a character this strong-willed *should* have more agency even if a weak-willed character might not.

So it's just a really simple way of framing the way I critique books that I think has really helped to show the difference between "this book is bad" and "this book didn't meet my personal preferences", but also, as someone talking about books, I think it helps give other people a clearer idea of what the book actually looks like so they can decide for themselves if it's worth their time.

Update: This is literally just a thought exercise to help you be more intentional with how you critique media. I'm not enforcing this as some divine rule that must be followed any time you have an opinion on fiction, and I'm definitely not saying that you have to structure every single sentence in a review to contain zero negative phrases. I'm just saying that I repurposed a rule we had at that specific reviewer to be a helpful tool to check myself when writing critiques now. If you don't want to use the tool, literally no one (especially not me) can or wants to force you to use it. As with all advice, it is a totally reasonable and normal thing to not have use for every piece of it that exists from random strangers on the internet. Use it to whatever extent it helps you or not at all.

'you still listen to music from 10 years ago 🤨?' bitch if prehistoric humans had audio recording technology id be sat up here listening to grog and unga bunga's greatest hits don't play with me

I know a lot of you feel like Eddie would be automatically attracted to a fellow metal head or even the overly gorgeous cheerleader type… but for some reason, in my mind, I see him drawn to a soft, warm smiled, ultimate girl next door hippie type. A Stevie Nicks type, if you will. Fashion stuck in the 70s, probably hand me downs from her mother and sometimes her father (let’s be honest, men’s fashion back then was amazing). Turquoise jewelry a stark contrast against the metal chains Eddie wears.

Of course, she’d have to be a music lover too. But maybe their taste is different, but still similar enough to have a connection over it. Like maybe her repertoire expanded from Bob Dylan, to Roberta Flack, to Carole King, to Eagles, to Simon & Garfunkel, to Aerosmith, to Skid Row. I see her as an admirer of all music, maybe even a fellow musician herself, wanting to follow in the footsteps of her idol, Stevie Nicks.

Like their entire relationship is a total personification of the song Leather and Lace.

It. Just. Makes. Sense. To. Me.

Mr. Linden's Library

short story i wrote for an english class that i was told was not good. anyways, figured it might reach the right people on here. enjoy!

word count: 801

~~~

It was dreadfully cold at Three o’clock on the morning of January Third when Mr. Linden woke, hearing a loud crash. Drenched in sweat, he sat up in bed and grasped the comforter next to him but, alas, clutched only onto air. “Clara!” he called. He got out of bed and quickly dressed in his bed jacket. Before he left his chambers, he took his lantern, making off with haste into the hallway and down the two flights of stairs that led to the basement.

“Clara!” He called into the darkness of the floor below. “Clara?” But no reply was made. He slowly illuminated it with his lantern, casting a soft glow about the room. He produced a set of keys from his pocket and made his way over to a small door. In his haste, it took him many failed attempts to unlock and open the door before he let himself in.

“Clara!” He called once more into darkness. He finally opened the door, pushing the lantern through. The light produced from it danced over the many bookshelves that covered the room’s walls, some books with shiny title fonts reflecting the dim glow.

This room, which he referred to as his study, was filled with shelves upon shelves of books, each stocked full and on the verge of overflowing. Every wall was hidden by a massive, looming bookcase except for the north wall, which housed his carved oak desk. Placed meticulously behind the desk was a brown leather swiveling chair that was always perfectly spotless and polished. In the far corner of the room lived an ugly green cloth armchair, which had perfected the art of both becoming an eyesore and collecting dust. He never used it; he could never even remember the last time he had sat in it. He only sat at his desk, often in a very official manner, looking over papers, contracts, and the like. He did not have time to read his books, nor did he want to.

Now, as he rushed into the room, he squinted, searching for any sign of human life. He walked along every wall, scanning the bookshelves for anything that looked amiss, until he reached the southern wall. He checked the shelf and noticed that one of his books was missing. To his horror, only a space remained where the book had once been placed. He had not taken the book out yesterday, and had he; it would have been returned to its rightful place on the shelf. He had learned too well what would happen when you left a book out all night.

He was terrified. Now frantic in his alarm, he turned round and round in the center of the room, calling out desperately, “Clara! Clara!” as his eyes grew large with fear.

He finally gathered himself enough to stumble to a doorway in between two bookcases on the east wall. Fumbling for the doorknob, he realized with great trepidation that it had already been opened. “Clara!” He wailed. He yanked the door open, pulling himself through it before he could bear to look around.

Behind this door was the other half of his study, which always remained locked. Inside was a wooden worktable pushed against one wall covered in beakers, baubles, and other scientific ornaments. Two large bookcases flanked either end of the table, and a bench in front. Now, however, the room was all but ripped to shreds. The bookcases had been smashed; their contents spilled over the floor. The worktable was flipped onto its side, all the embellishments broken on the floor, and strange liquids drained out of them.

The only thing undisturbed in the middle of the room was the bench, now pushed away from the table. Across the bench lay a young woman, seeming to sleep in a vision of picturesque womanhood, with a book settled upon her lap.

Upon seeing her, Mr. Linden walked over to the bench and sank to his knees, grasping the young woman’s hand. “Clara! Clara. I knew this was what would become of my horrible habit, but I have prayed that it would be me that they would take. Not you. Never you. Oh, Clara, what have I done?” He howled as sobs racked his figure.

After a moment, he removed the book from her lap, only to reveal a mass of spiders dripping from the book’s pages. Without a moment of hesitation, he placed the book upon his chest, laid down on the floor, the woman’s hand still held within his own, and declared, “If they demand one of us, I will give them both.”

Within the hour, he stopped breathing, the venom of the spiders plaguing his bloodstream, with the hope of being reunited with his sweet Clara once more, if not on this earth.

…he’s always been there

STEVEN TYLER

Multiple reasons. #1, he adopted a minor just to date her. #2 the whole drug situation like they were actually insane. #3 the concept of most of his songs surrounded sex/over sexualization of women, especially young groupies.

PLEASE I really want to see your take on this whole situation. Also love love love you’re writing <333

Can I just say I absolutely love how your version of rockstar!eddie hates tommy lee bc canonly eddie is gentleman and I really don't think he'd be okay with the things tommy lee has done to women especially a woman who was his pregnant wife I've seen other blogs say eddie would respect him and yeah I'd have to heavily disagree with that

THANK YOU BESTIE!!!!! abso-fuckin-lutely. Like even outside of my rockstar Eddie, in the show, he is canonically a gentleman and if anything, seems to be more comfortable with women. You really think the same guy who embraced Erica into his circle and who was worried about Chrissy's safety, would be fucking with a wife beater and child abuser? NOPE. I made a post mentioning people he fucks with if you saw that!

Rockstar Eddie loves showmanship and theatrics but not when it's used as an excuse to conceal asshole behaviour. Eddie definitely uses having his kids to step away from the limelight a little, because he's so sick of dealing with so many toxic men in the industry that were so prominent in 80s/90s. It's why he definitely tries to emulate Alice Cooper as a role model. Being a rockstar is about having fun and putting on a good show and loving the music. It shouldn't be compromising your morals for some shitty persona that only hurts people.

Hmm who else is Eds hating on?

Determining how old a picture is by a band member's hair.

My heeeaarrtttt <3

eddie’s love letter to reader after leaving her in chicago where he’d followed her after meeting for the first time. (i was in my feels despite not even being in love myself)

masterlist or series tag #enam3ls rockstar eddie

Dear sweetheart,

I’m considering hijacking my own plane and making them turn back to Chicago, back to you. My lips left your skin an hour ago and already they’re itching to be reunited.

Ready to commit felonies in order to feel yours once more. The guys have ditched me, they’re sitting further up the place. Apparently I talk too much as is, now I’m worse than ever and the only topic on my tongue is you. I can’t blame them, I wonder how I’ll ever shut up about you.

The flight attendant brought her little trolley round and all she got from me was a lecture about how you only mix your drinks with lemonade, never soda. I told her my girl has a sweet tooth. I suppose I don’t know for sure if you’re my girl yet. Not even officially my girl and you’ve got me hopping states and writing love letters.

You’ve bewitched me, babe. Appeared out of thin air on a dark stormy night in a small town like Hawkins? It all makes sense. I knew you had to be other worldly. You hexed me that night, turned me into a lovesick teenager. I hope the spell is irreversible if it means I get to be yours.

Shit, this could all be nonsense, I don’t know. I’m so god damn tired. You kept me awake. I’ve not even got my mind in the gutter. Just mean, how could I possibly sleep when I got to have you to myself? There’s only 24 hours in the day and you’ve existed for nearly 24 years. Hard to hear all your stories in that time. I want to hear them all. It feels cruel the universe robbed me of 24 years of you. Think I could listen to you til the oceans ran dry and I wouldn’t get bored.

I took my jacket off once I was seated to get comfy but then I realised it smelt like you. Had this thing since I was 16 and it’s only ever smelt like smoke and cheap beer. You wear it for a weekend and it smells like you. You you you. That pretty perfume and that sweetness natural to your skin. It’s soaked into the leather. Under the fibres. I think you’ve done that to me as well. Seeped under my skin. Running through my system.

Already owe Dustin and Steve my life in ways you don’t even know. I owe them it all once over for introducing you.

You were right when you said this wasn’t normal. People don’t just feel this way with someone they’ve known for a couple of hours. I think my heart was yours from that moment in the Hideout. It’s still with you now in Chicago. I don’t want it back. Keep it in the back pocket of those tight little jeans you wore yesterday. If you gave me yours, it’d be the most precious think I owned.

When you get back home to New York and read this, call me. I’ll be on your doorstep in seconds if I’m not already camped out there. I should’ve stayed in bed with you in that fancy ass hotel in Chicago.

Call me and I’ll crawl back into your sheets and promise to never leave again.

Yours if you wish,

Eddie.

don’t worry i know it’s been a while but i could never forget about my lil star crossed lovers

my taglist angels: @whoahoney @lukewearingbeanies @esme-viridian @elysian-chaos s @munsonology @mseddiemunson @kreepja @midnightsgetawaycar

me in a nutshell

Bruce: Stressed.

Dick: Depressed.

Damian: Possessed.

Tim: Obsessed.

Y/N: Impressed.

Jason: Chicken breast.

Everyone: ...What?

Jason: I just wanted to join in.