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circular-time · 2 years

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hello! i'd like some help. i've been getting into the fifth, sixth and eighth doctor audios lately but i don't know where to start to get introduced to the audios without being too overwhelmed not knowing what the characters gone through in previous adventures. so any suggestions for a first listener?

and also is there a like a list available online highlighting the audios in order of the doctor's timeline?

Just to double-check: I think you've seen some classic Who but not a lot? The audios try their best to introduce you in case you don't know the characters or haven't seen them in years.

The easiest way to tell where the audios fall in the timeline is to check which companions are involved. Most are self-contained, although the Main Range tended to release them in batches of three, which occasional lead from one to the next in the trilogy. Also, there's occasionally a single release that's an anthology of four half-hour short stories.

Here's the order of the Fifth Doctor's adventures, with which I'm most familiar.

If Matthew Waterhouse (Adric) is listed, then it's set during the Fifth Doctor's early days, aka S19 between Castrovalva and Earthshock. Five starts out with: Nyssa (Sarah Sutton, playing an alien girl with a head for science), Tegan (a human air stewardess trying to get back to her job at Heathrow, after accidentally blundering into the TARDIS and being abducted), and math genius/brash teenager Adric. (Recommendations: Iterations of I/Psychodrome, Kingdom of Lies, Ghost Walk, Cold Fusion)

Adric departs near the end of the Fifth Doctor's first season, S19. The final cliffhanger of that season sees Tegan stranded in Heathrow as the TARDIS dematerializes. By this time she'd decided she enjoyed traveling with the Doctor after all... whoops!

So then there's a bunch of audio adventures with just Sarah Sutton and Peter Davison, Nyssa and Five off being space tourists and alien good samaritans, inserted between S19 and S20. (Recommendations: Primeval, 1001 Nights, Spare Parts, Castle of Fear/Eternal Summer/Plague of the Daleks, Creatures of Beauty, Circular Time, Alien Heart/Dalek Soul. Obviously I love this team)

Returning to TV continuity at the beginning of S20, the Fifth Doctor's second season, there are some audios with Janet Fielding and Sarah Sutton, set after the TV story Arc of Infinity, when the Doctor and Nyssa bump into Tegan again in Amsterdam and she rejoins the TARDIS. Recommended: Hexagora, Aquitaine, The Peterloo Massacre (oh gods, that's a gut punch of a story, but SO good. A rare straight historical with no aliens that didn't come in the TARDIS.)

If Mark Strickson and Janet Fielding are together with Peter but NOT Sarah, then it's set after Nyssa leaves the show at the end of Terminus during TV season 20. I just deleted a long paean to the hot mess that is Turlough, but in short: he's an alien exiled to Earth and forced to attend an English boys' school, a fate so horrible he strikes a deal with the devil to kill some bloke named the Doctor in exchange for his freedom. Turlough's knack for self-preservation wars with his inner stirrings of conscience, making him a tortured little meow meow who hides behind a mask of sarcasm and cynicism. Tegan, who is usually right, thinks he's a little shit. The Doctor Believes In Turlough, which is pretty unkind of him, because Turlough keeps having to live up to his expectations.

ANNYWAY. On TV, Sarah, Janet and Mark Strickson didn't have much overlap, but Big Finish has kindly corrected that at Mark's request by jamming an ENTIRE STORY ARC into the few TV episodes where Turlough and Tegan are traveling with Five after Nyssa's departure on Terminus. They catch up to her again much later in her timeline starting in the audio Cobwebs. I think the Mark/Sarah/Janet/Peter combo is fantastic, and there's barely any audios in that batch of 16 I wouldn't recommend, except Rat Trap. Listen to Cradle of the Snake. Listen to Cradle of the Snake. Preferably after watching Kinda and/or Snakedance, since it brings back the same monster. Cobwebs, Kiss of Death, Emerald Tiger, Butcher of Brisbane, Lady of Mercia, are also good for one reason or another, and Prisoners of Fate/Entropy Plague will just rip your heart out as much as any new Who.

There's a scattering of stories with the Fifth Doctor on his own, nominally set after the tv story The Awakening, when Tegan winds up visiting her... uncle, I think? and, wonder of wonder, lets Turlough stay.

There's a few recent stories with just Turlough, Tegan, and Kamelion, a castoff robot with a knack for mimicry (it can copy both the voice and appearance of a person) the Doctor took from the Master at the end of Season 20. Tegan doesn't trust it. The Doctor thinks it deserves a "life" away from the Master. I'm still trying to finish these because I love Kamelion as much as Tegan does, but the first one is good.

So far there's been one story with just Tegan and the Fifth Doctor called Time in Office which is brilliant, set after The Five Doctors when he is dragged back to Gallifrey to serve as president. A wild Leela appears. (Tegan and the Doc left Turlough to chill for a brief time at the end of the TV episode Frontios.)

There's a very few audios with just Mark Strickson and Peter Davison set after Tegan leaves again on TV. Mark is always fun. The very first one, Phantasmagoria, was the first Big Finish after the pilot and is surprisingly good for being so early, thanks in part to Peter and Mark having fun. I can't decide whether I love or dislike Loup-Garoux— it's definitely from the wild and crazy EU era before there was any hope the TV show would be renewed — but it's unforgettable.

The Fifth Doctor's final companion Peri, played by Nicola Bryant, is an American grad student in botany on gap year. She overlapped with Turlough for one story on tv (Planet of Fire) but he was gone by the end of it. Some of the Fifth Doctor and Peri's early audio adventures have a delightful audio-only companion, the ancient Egyptian Erimem, introduced in the excellent Eye of the Scorpion. Also rec: The Church and the Crown, The Kingmaker, Son of the Dragon.

Well, sorry, that wasn't organized, and it's ONLY the Fifth Doctor. Can someone else do Eight? I haven't caught up with his timeline and there's NO WAY i can be brief.

Sixie's first TV companion is Peri (Widow's Assassin springs instantly to mind, taking place years after Peri's departure from TV, Ish, as well as the infamous Piscon Paradox: basically if Nev Fountain writes something for Nicola, it's good) and his last is Mel, but TV never showed Mel arriving, so Big Finish has given Sixie several good companions:

the AMAZING Evelyn Smythe played by Maggie Stiles (Just go listen to The Marian Conspiracy and the Creature of Lanyon Moor, there you go, also Jubilee is what the pilot episode Dalek was based on but the original is so much more terrifying and very different with Sixie and Evelyn.)

Then Flip Jackson played by Lisa Greenwood; I haven't listened to all of hers, but she's adorable, full of pluck and curiosity and a lively brain but not much burdened by fear or common sense; as far as I can tell Sixie adopted a kitten only she's human.

Then somehow Six winds up with Eight's signature companion Charley aka Charlotte Pollard played by India Fisher, Edwardian Adventuress, a stowaway from the historical airship R-101 (which actually postdates the reign of king Edward by a few years, whoops) — I haven't heard these yet but need to, as both India and Colin are excellent.

Next is Mrs Clarke, Constance Clarke played by Miranda Raison, or "Connie" once Six and Mrs Clarke find Flip again... Mrs Clarke is a WReN (Women's Royal Navy) from Bletchley Park, WWII, one of the Enigma codebreakers with a very "keep calm and carry on" no-nonsense attitude. Recommendations: Cross Cross, Order of the Daleks (that stained glass Dalek you see everywhere was originally deaigned for the cover art of this story), Juggernaut.

Somewhere in all that, Big Finish recorded exactly one — ONE — story with Frobisher, Sixie's shapeshifting gumshoe sleuth sidekick from the old Doctor Who comics who insists on sticking to the shape of a penguin. The Holy Terror is weird and wonderful and creepy.

Pick up The Wormery just for fun. Dear old Katy Manning, who once played the Third Doctor's companion Jo Grant on TV, has had a second life in audio as Iris Wildthyme, retired opera singer, drunk, and all-around zooty old lady wandering the universe looking for a good time in a TARDIS disguised as a red double decker bus. She also flirts shamelessly with the Doctor in every incarnation, includin Sixie.

And finally— thanks I suspect to Flip's actress Lisa Greenwood coming down with long covid in December 2020, poor kid; it's heartbreaking to see how she's lost alla that exuberant energy... Sixie and Mel (Bonnie Langford) were just joined by a new audio companion, Hebe, played by Ruth Madeley. You should definitely hear The One Doctor.

#fifth doctor #doctor who #big finish #recommendations #well THAT got long #sorry about that but i guess you know what my blog's like

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etchedstars · 2 years

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1 and 2

1 : what do you crave in a psychological sense? Intimacy, passion, purpose, belonging, social interaction, etc.?

hmmm uh uhhhh im. im not really sure?? i think the feeling of belonging, probably - irl im surrounded by people who dont exactly get me and i just kind of exist between groups. and i feel like i belong with groups online itd just be nice to feel the same way in person

2 : what kind of emotions do the stars evoke for you, if any? The ocean, the sky, the moon?

woah okay lemme just. think abt this one

the stars - i don't see many of them here. i went to camp and saw so fucking many, and it was just like shit, these have been here all this time?? it's insane how many there were there, and how many there are in places i haven't been yet, that i just. haven't seen. kinda sad.

ocean - some weird cross between interest and fear. i used to love the ocean so it kinda feels a bit like childhood wonder and i wish i could keep it that way lmao

sky - the amount of pretty sky photos ive taken is quite honestly concerning

moon - oohhhhh my god. ooooohhhh my god the moon my fucking beloved????? i look at it and i just have to stop bc the people i havent met are looking at it too and the poets look at the moon and write about them and just something about it connecting me with everyone around me throughout time and space is just. GOD it makes me so happy

#well that got long #jakejakejake #ty !!!#overdue gets some asks #ask games

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endusviolence · 2 months

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Rowling isn't denying holocaust. She just pointed out that burning of transgender health books is a lie as that form of cosmetic surgery didn't exist. But of course you knew that already, didn't you?

I was thinking I'd probably see one of you! You're wrong :) Let's review the history a bit, shall we?

In this case, what we're talking about is the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, or in English, The Institute of Sexology. This Institute was founded and headed by a gay Jewish sexologist named Magnus Hirschfeld. It was founded in July of 1919 as the first sexology research clinic in the world, and was run as a private, non-profit clinic. Hirschfeld and the researchers who worked there would give out consultations, medical advice, and even treatments for free to their poorer clientele, as well as give thousands of lectures and build a unique library full of books on gender, sexuality, and eroticism. Of course, being a gay man, Hirschfeld focused a lot on the gay community and proving that homosexuality was natural and could not be "cured".

Hirschfeld was unique in his time because he believed that nobody's gender was either one or the other. Rather, he contended that everyone is a mixture of both male and female, with every individual having their own unique mix of traits.

This leads into the Institute's work with transgender patients. Hirschfeld was actually the one to coin the term "transsexual" in 1923, though this word didn't become popular phrasing until 30 years later when Harry Benjamin began expanding his research (I'll just be shortening it to trans for this brief overview.) For the Institute, their revolutionary work with gay men eventually began to attract other members of the LGBTA+, including of course trans people.

Contrary to what Anon says, sex reassignment surgery was first tested in 1912. It'd already being used on humans throughout Europe during the 1920's by the time a doctor at the Institute named Ludwig Levy-Lenz began performing it on patients in 1931. Hirschfeld was at first opposed, but he came around quickly because it lowered the rate of suicide among their trans patients. Not only was reassignment performed at the Institute, but both facial feminization and facial masculization surgery were also done.

The Institute employed some of these patients, gave them therapy to help with other issues, even gave some of the mentioned surgeries for free to this who could not afford it! They spoke out on their behalf to the public, even getting Berlin police to help them create "transvestite passes" to allow people to dress however they wanted without the threat of being arrested. They worked together to fight the law, including trying to strike down Paragraph 175, which made it illegal to be homosexual. The picture below is from their holiday party, Magnus Hirschfeld being the gentleman on the right with the fabulous mustache. Many of the other people in this photo are transgender.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of a group of people. Some are smiling at the camera, others have serious expressions. Either way, they all seem to be happy. On the right side, an older gentleman in glasses- Magnus Hirschfeld- is sitting. He has short hair and a bushy mustache. He is resting one hand on the shoulder of the person in front of him. His other hand is being held by a person to his left. Another person to his right is holding his shoulder.]

There was always push back against the Institute, especially from conservatives who saw all of this as a bad thing. But conservatism can't stop progress without destroying it. They weren't willing to go that far for a good while. It all ended in March of 1933, when a new Chancellor was elected. The Nazis did not like homosexuals for several reasons. Chief among them, we break the boundaries of "normal" society. Shortly after the election, on May 6th, the book burnings began. The Jewish, gay, and obviously liberal Magnus Hirschfeld and his library of boundary-breaking literature was one of the very first targets. Thankfully, Hirschfeld was spared by virtue of being in Paris at the time (he would die in 1935, before the Nazis were able to invade France). His library wasn't so lucky.

This famous picture of the book burnings was taken after the Institute of Sexology had been raided. That's their books. Literature on so much about sexuality, eroticism, and gender, yes including their new work on trans people. This is the trans community's Alexandria. We're incredibly lucky that enough of it survived for Harry Benjamin and everyone who came after him was able to build on the Institute's work.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of the May Nazi book burning of the Institute of Sexology's library. A soldier, back facing the camera, is throwing a stack of books into the fire. In the background of the right side, a crowd is watching.]

As the Holocaust went on, the homosexuals of Germany became a targeted group. This did include transgender people, no matter what you say. To deny this reality is Holocaust denial. JK Rowling and everyone else who tries to pretend like this isn't reality is participating in that evil. You're agreeing with the Nazis.

But of course, you knew that already, didn't you?

Edit: Added image IDs. I apologize to those using screen readers for forgetting them. Please reblog this version instead.

#transgender #trans history #transsexual #transphobia #Magnus Hirschfeld #holocaust #holocaust denial #book burning #j.k. rowling #jk rowling #just in case you missed what i mean by all this: go fuck yourself anon :)#trans people have always existed #and we will always exist #if you really wanna pick a fight with me over well-documented history then you better bring in some sources to back your shit #queer history #queer #lgbt+#lgbta+#lgbt #lgbt history #edit: i finally got around to those damn image IDs. i am so very sorry for totally forgetting that's my bimbo moment of the month #also real quick i thought about adding an image of the actual building but the only one i can find has a Nazi parade in front of it #it was taken the day of the book burning raid and honestly if i were to include it then i'd add it to the first few paragraphs #and i think the story's better told when you uphold the hope Magnus Hirschfeld and all the researchers he worked with had #also keeps being brought up: yes Hirschfeld was a eugenicist. it was a popular belief set that was only discredited after WW2 #Hirschfeld died in 1935. he literally didn't live long enough to see science turn against those beliefs and practices #considering how he changed his mind on transitions i like to think he would've changed his mind on eugenics too if he'd lived

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roses-afterdark · 5 months

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How do I even begin to describe it?

It's that feeling you get just before you cry, those big wracking sobs big fat tears falling down your face

Only there are no tears

It's a feeling in your chest, like there should be a weight there to hold but there's NOT

And it makes its way right down to the tips of your fingers and it aches because someone is meant to be squeezing that hand

This ancient longing ache that must MUST be calling to someone, you don't want to let it go because it must be....it must

But it hurts it hurts and it's sobbing without crying, but to let it go means to forget forget forget and then something would break

It's living the rest of your life in a haze, there's laughter and smiles and long conversations, and arguments and tears but it seems so all on autopilot when that feeling comes back

Like living two lives, and one is so so tangibly real and aching and pulling and CALLING towards some invisible being. While the other is real and normal until it's not

But you can't let go you can't, because surely there's someone out there on the other end of that tug, and you can't just abandon them you can't you don't want to

Something inside would die and then what would be the point

And you can't let it disappear because it's....it's also hope, it's tangible proof it's real and it's love and it calls that stupid "you can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness" line to mind every time but dammit it's real, it's love and it's gone

It's being ripped away too soon, it's completely understanding why, it's not wanting life to have been any other way, but you know you got here too soon for him, that you missed each other this time around, and life is good and wonderful but it hurts

It's love it's love it's love

#well that got long #I'm not really sure what to tag this #so i won't #i just needed to get it out #this isn't about loosing someone #this is mourning someone who you haven't met #this time around #it's being left with memories that should've been left between lives

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shopwitchvamp · 7 months

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“Omg, I love these! They go up to size 6X AND they have pockets?! Wow!! But do you have anything longer?”

Sure do, no problem!!

“YES these are great!!! But what about.. longer?”

I gotcha!! Comin’ right up!

“Perfect! But I have just one more question… what if I’m feeling spicy? How about skirts that are even shorter than the first ones?!” Oh, you’re in luck! We’ve got minis now.

*wild cheering* /scene

🖤witchvamp.com🖤

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chloesimaginationthings · 29 days

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FNAF movie Mike meets Jeremy Fitzgerald

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toxungen · 5 months

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guard dog

#hi everyone long time no see....... sm has happened this year!! geez #year of the rabbit threw me 2 the wolves ..#but i got top surgery! on my 4th week of recovery ;9 #so stoked abt my nipples. im addidcted to taking off my shirt and striking a lil cunty pose in the mirror LOL #yippee!#will be posting some more older art soon stay tunedddd luv u guys hope yall are eating well <3 #furry #anthro

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anothersuperstition · 2 months

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will you welcome your extinction in the morning rays?

#hiii i haven’t shared art in so long. that’s bc it scares me now <3 #i started this in 2022 bc i wanted to post it at the end of tour and well. That didn’t happen #got it most of the way done and then couldn’t figure out how to finish it bc illustration proper is still an unknown beast to me #but i took a couple hours late last night to finish it up and i’m actually so happy with it!!#y’all didn’t ask for a novel SORRY #mcr #my chemical romance #the foundations of decay #swarm #swarm tour #gerard way #frank iero #ray toro #mikey way #arty art #mine

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antirepurp · 2 months

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revisited the old "they descended from ancients + shadow was made by them" concept and put more thought into the markings this time, that and i took cues from their concept arts as a treat for myself. no chaos forms this time bc if this has to sit on my hard drive any longer im going to start running up the walls hee hoo

(old art + original concept for the curious i suppose)

#sonic boom #sonic the hedgehog #tails the fox #amy rose #knuckles the echidna #sticks the badger #shadow the hedgehog #purp art #this took me way too long and i struggled with the poses way too much and it did not cure my art slump. oh well #at least i got to compare this to my old art and feel like i've improved #anyway i need a new tag for this shit so i can like. revamp it from the ground up #bygone ancients #<- that works actually i'll add it to my nav page at some point #sonic #sth

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floccinaucinihilipilificationa · 6 months

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#sherlock #it might be the cough medicine but I'm really feeling the bbc sherlock wedding episode today #a good feeling ₍՞◌′ᵕ‵ू◌₎♡#like finding an old block of cheese in the back of the fridge you forgot about and its gotten super hard and chewy #i currently have half a block of gouda curating in the vegetable cupboard #waiting #how are you doing friends!! C:#I'm good! I still have the cough but I also got a new scarf #I'm still thinking about buying window colors as well but I am waiting if that is also just because of the cough medicine #I can't believe it's already been a year since I have moved! last year I was doing everything here for the first time #and now everything is happening for a second time! that year was both very long and also happened very fast #our floor in the “office” my father wanted to install still is not completly done but he threw up last time he tried #he did not threw up because of the floor but because every time he does a home renovation project he drinks 3 liters of Cherry Coca Cola #we are trying to not make him drink 3 liters of Cherry Coca Cola but he doesn't want anyone else to finish the floor I think so we just do #not mention the hole in the floor #have a nice autumn day friends!! I hope you're doing well! ( ´͈ ◡ `͈ )#♥

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ionomycin · 1 year

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My favorite pieces this year

#artists on tumblr #thank you so much for another year #as long as i can keep doing art #i'm super grateful #got to work on some cool projects #tried to push myself to socialize more #it's hard #super mega hard #but i met a few new people and made friends i think??#got to play d&d finally #trying to learn how to make friends as an adult lmao #after just focusing on drawing my whole life #shoutout to my plants as well #holding together my mental health through the winter #it's my 3rd christmas in germany #glad to spend another one with my partner in gay

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wasyago · 11 months

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the brainrot won

#GUY S i know i haven't posted anything in a while and thats because im working on a big cool project that i really want to finish without-#distractions. but uh. as you can see. ive been distracted 😔. still working on it tho!!!! and im very happy with it turns out its just-#super time and energy consuming so ive tried to limit my intake of other media to not make myself want to draw other stuff #i also haven't read the last two (two already?????) chapters of RnS and im very sad about it and i want to read it but you know that if i-#read it ill want to make fanart and then ill never finish my project :(#SO. sorrey for the lack of art itll be coming when im free to draw!!!!!!!#but also. yes ive watched new life because i dont want to go insane with nothing but this project on my mind and umm. had to take a little-#break to do a couple designs for fun... and to switch it up a bit because for real im going insane i think #ALSO. friend got me into zelda botw and i haven't played a whole lot yet (because project) but ive tried to take some inspiration for-#designs from there. at least for joel and scott. everyone else not so much...#WELL ANYWAYS this is getting long. i should really stop rambling in the tags and just make separate posts for all this but i dont want to #umm. tags.#new life smp #smallishbeans #mythical sausage #geminitay #pearlescentmoon #smajor1995 #inthelittlewood #my art #sketch

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flowercrowngods · 5 months

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who did this to you. part 2

🤍🌷 read part 1 here pre-s4, steve whump, protective (but scared) eddie

This is not happening. None of this is happening, he’s… He’s dreaming. He’s high. High as a kite somewhere where reality doesn’t matter, where it can’t fucking reach him and he’s— He’s not panicking behind the wheel with Steve Fucking Harrington bleeding against the passenger side window.

It’s not happening.

Because if it were happening, Eddie would simply throw up. He’d leave his van on the side of the road and run the fuck away. Away from Harrington and his trouble, away from his rattling breath that’s so loud and unsteady, Eddie doesn’t even dare to turn on any sort of music, even though he’s itching for it, his hands clenching and unclenching around the wheel until his knuckles go white.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he mumbles under his breath, barely aware of his surroundings at all, his eyes flitting from Harrington to the red stain against the window, back to the road and then down to the white-knuckled grip and the speckles of dried blood that is decidedly not his.

Lost in his panic and disbelief, Eddie almost runs a red light.

It’s harsh, the way he hits the brakes, and the sound Harrington makes is pathetic enough that Eddie feels like maybe this might actually be happening.

“Sorry,” he breathes, his voice no better than Steve’s — and he’s not the one with a concussion, a broken rib, and that… fucking fear. Of something. Or someone.

Who’s hurting you, Steve?

Jus’ everyone, sometimes. God you don’t… You don’t even know.

He doesn’t even know. He doesn’t wanna know. All he wants is for Harrington to stop fucking bleeding, to keep his eyes wide open and—

“Ed,” the boy says, wheezes, and it sounds like he wanted to say his full name, but had to swallow first. Blood, Eddie thinks. Don’t let it be blood. “Think I’m… ‘M gonna throw up.”

“Please don’t throw up,” Eddie says before he can stop himself, hating how small his voice sounds, how urgent — like that’s the thing to be urgent about. God, he’s such an ass, but he… If Harrington throws up, Eddie will lose it. He knows he will.

He chances a glance over at Steve, who has somehow managed to get his right arm tangled with the handle at the door, keeping himself upright and safe from Eddie’s rather frantic driving style. His head is drooping, moving this way and that against the red-stained glass, and he blinks unseeingly as blood begins to trickle down from his nose and temple again.

He’s making himself small, and Eddie wants to pull him upright and tell him to stay like that, tell him to stop looking so terrible, so horrible, so…

So much like Eddie’s fucking problem.

He hates it. Hates everything about that vision. Boys like Harrington shouldn’t look like this, shouldn’t hold themselves like this, shouldn’t… Shouldn’t have no one but Eddie to take them somewhere safe.

It’s just not tight.

“Don’ wanna throw up,” Steve says at last, the pause too long for Eddie’s liking, and he sounds so solemn about it, yet so helpless, and Eddie kinda wants to scream. Wants Harrington to scream. Anything to stay awake and maybe not ruin his car. Anything to not fucking die in it.

“Tell me something,” he says then, because he knows he has to keep Harrington awake and speaking. Just for another ten, fifteen minutes, he tells himself. “Anything, yeah? Tell me anything. Gotta keep you awake there, you hear me? Sounds great, right, staying awake?”

He’s rambling and he knows it, desperation shining through his words and the god-awful way his voice breaks a little. This is not about him, he knows it isn’t, but still he wants to punch himself, wants to pinch himself and stay fucking calm.

But who could stay calm in a situation like this? The silence is filled with the horrible wheezing and rattling of Harrington’s breath barely audible over the engine, and Eddie has to look over several times to make sure he’s still there, still with him, still alive. His panic spikes each time.

He’s just about to reach over and shake him a little, snap in front of his face to get him back, when—

“I don’t know what.”

It’s quiet, that voice, breathy and tiny and almost invisible, and Eddie wants to scream again.

Tell me why you’re so scared. Tell me why your old buddy did this to you. Hagan would never touch you, so why did he now? Tell me what happened to Hargrove. Tell me why you sound so fucking small.

“Tell me about your…” He fumbles for a moment, taking a sharp left and pretending not to hear the choked-off whimper. Focusing on good things. On normal things. “Your favourite person.”

Eddie cringes at himself the moment the words leave his mouth. Your favourite person? Really, Munson? He scrambles to find something better, something cooler, or maybe something easier like asking his favourite fucking colour, but the overthinking really doesn’t mix well with the already panicked state of his mind. And Eddie just blanks.

Beside him, though, Harrington sits up a little straighter, smearing more blood against his window in the process that Eddie pretends not to feel nauseous about.

God, he never did like blood.

“You wan’ me to tell you ‘bout Rob?”

“Sure, yeah,” Eddie says, a little too loud, a little too shrill, actually running a red light this time because he doesn’t want to brake again and hurt the boy some more. There’s no one around anyway. This is Hawkins. Fucking dead-end of a town. It doesn’t need red lights, or boys who look like Harrington. “Rob. Tell me ‘bout him, what’s he like? Favourite colour, all that shit.”

“Her.”

Eddie blinks, looking over to find Harrington looking at him — or trying to, his eyes still drooping and empty. But it’s a good sign. People don’t die when they look at you, right?

“What?”

“Her,” Harrington says again. “An’ blue. Deep ‘n’ dark blue. She’ll say something corny when, when you ask her, jus’ to fuck with you. Sunset gold or rose, jus’ to mess with… But is blue.”

Eddie doesn’t really listen, doesn’t really process what Steve is saying, already thinking of the next question just to keep him talking. But then he continues on his own.

“Mornin’ blue dep— de… makes her sad, though. So only dark blue. Says it’s why we’re friends. You’re so blue, Stevie. Got half’a my clothes, still, she does. All the blues.”

That's... really fucking endearing, actually.

And he says it with a half-smile, too, bloody and pathetic as it is. Like it’s a secret that only the two of them are in on, only Steve and Robin. It’s kind of sweet.

Not for the first time today does Eddie find himself wondering, Who the hell are you, Steve Harrington?

He exhales through his nose, ignoring the way he’s started to shake with all that panic that’s been sitting inside him for a little too long now with no way to let it out.

“Not much longer,” he mumbles under his breath again, or maybe he just thinks very hard. Maybe he doesn’t know where he is at all. It’s like he blanks every few seconds, too busy thinking and trying not to.

Before he can tell Harrington to talk some more about that girlfriend of his, there’s a pained, confused little whine that forcefully tears Eddie’s eyes from the street for a moment only to meet hazel eyes widened in confusion.

“Wh— Where… Where’re we going?”

Oh no.

“Why’m I in y—“

“You’re safe,” Eddie interrupts him, speaking slowly because suddenly his tongue is too big for his mouth, and not entirely sure if he’s reassuring Harrington or himself. “You’re hurt, okay? It’s bad, but it wasn’t me. I’m taking you to… to someone. My uncle Wayne, he’s— He knows about that kinda stuff. You were telling me about Rob. Remember her, Blue? How about you tell me some more, hm?”

Eddie’s voice is unsteady with worry and fear and panic, and he’s doing a piss-poor job at hiding it. The thing is, he’s going to cry. He’s actually, absolutely, no-doubt-about-it going to scream and cry and punch a fucking hole into something when this day is over, when his van is no longer bloody, and when Steve Harrington won’t have reason to look at him any longer.

Oh, how he wants to skip forward. Past the nausea, past the fear, past everything that’s happening right now. Maybe past the insomnia that will come with a day like this, too.

Past all of it.

Or better yet, travel back in time and never get to that fucking boat house.

But he can’t. So he breathes.

At first, through the ringing in his ears and the racing of his own heart so loud and so forceful he’s shaking with it, he worries that Steve’s gone silent again, that he’s gonna ask again, ask what happened, ask where he is, ask all the questions that make Eddie feel like he’s been doused in ice water because they’re questions that only get asked in stupid movies where terrible things happen to people.

But then he hears him mumbling something. Numbers.

“What’cha mumbling there, Blue?”

“‘S her number,” Steve says, his voice slurring again, worse than before, and Eddie hits the gas a little harder. “‘S jus’ her number. Robbie’s number.”

And he mumbles again. Over and over and over, until Eddie couldn’t forget it if he wanted to, ingrained into the frayed edges of his mind now.

He lets him ramble, lets him repeat the number until the words slur together and he can’t separate a four from a nine anymore. Each time Harrington hesitates, each time he stumbles over the words or forgets a digit, Eddie wants to punch the wheel.

He doesn’t. He only grips it tighter and counts down the turns he takes, the streets he passes, the fucking trees that are familiar, before, finally, the trailer park comes into view.

The sob Eddie lets out when, with shaking, trembling hands he pulls up to his home to find his uncle having a smoke outside is deafening to his ears after the quiet weakness of Harrington’s voice.

It startles him, makes him stop his rambles and sit up straighter when Eddie finally kills the engine. For a moment, without the steady, rolling hum, the car is filled with the small, tiny whines Steve makes on each exhale. Like it hurts to even breathe.

“Wha’s wrong?” He asks, but Eddie can’t really hear him. Can’t turn to him, can’t— “Eddie?”

He’s out of the car before he can take hold of another thought, stumbling out of his open door on legs that feel numb and heavy. The urge to cry is back again, the burning in his eyes only getting worse when Wayne takes in the dried blood on his clothes and hands with careful, calculated worry.

“Ed?”

“I didn’t know what— where—- I’m… Wayne, I’m sorry.”

“Slow down, kid,” Wayne says, raising his hands as if to calm a spooked deer. Like Eddie is the one who needs his help. And he is. He really, really is, and he shouldn’t be, because this isn’t about him, but—

Wayne grabs him by the shoulders to keep him still, and only now does Eddie realise he’s shaking again, restlessly moving his weight from one leg to the other. His uncle steadies him, gently pressing down on his shoulders to ground him, and Eddie nearly sobs again.

“Ed. Are you in trouble?”

“No,” Eddie scrambles to say, becoming aware of what this looks like, hiding his hands behind his back on instinct, like that’ll make Harrington’s blood disappear. “‘S not my blood, I didn’t do anything, I swear! I swear. It’s, uh. I just found him. In the boathouse, I found him, and he was… God, he looked so bad, okay, but he didn’t want the hospital, and he was, like, so scared of something, and we don’t even talk, we don’t even look at each other, but I just… I didn’t know what to do, and you know something about concussions and people who were beat to shit and, again, I’m—“

“Eddie,” Wayne says, his voice so calm but so assertive that Eddie shuts up immediately, gladly handing over to controls to his uncle now. “Who’s the kid?”

He nods towards Eddie’s van, where Harrington looks to be halfway unbuckled, but his eyes are closed and his face smushed against the door again, like he just gave up.

“Shit,” Eddie says, adrenaline and panic slowly falling from him with Wayne’s hand on his shoulder. He sags into his uncle and rubs at his face. “It’s Steve. Uh, Steve Harrington, I mean.”

“Okay,” Wayne says, and he’s so calm. So calm. Eddie feels like he’s about to fall apart, and Wayne is the only one keeping him together, with that’d steady, warm hand on his shoulder. “And you promise me he didn’t give you trouble? Or anyone else who’ll come finish what they started?”

Eddie shakes his head profusely, getting a little dizzy with it. “I promise I’m not in trouble. He said Hagan did this to him, was alone when I found him. No trouble, Wayne, I swear, I’m not like that, you know I’m not.”

“Okay,” Wayne says again, and Eddie wants to weep. “I know you’re not like that, but some people are, y’know? You did good, son. You did good. Now help me get him out of that car.”

It takes his uncle tugging him towards the van for Eddie to kick back into motion, nearly falling over his feet turning back around. It’s only Wayne’s “Easy” murmured under his breath that keeps the ground from opening up and swallowing him whole.

He climbs in on the driver’s side while Wayne rounds the car and gets to Harrington’s side.

“Hey there, Blue,” Eddie says, his voice shaking and the nickname slipping again — but it’s easier to call him that than his real name, it’s easier to pretend it’s literally anyone else in here with him, bleeding against his door.

It’s easier to pretend it’s not Harrington’s breath rattling the way it does, easier to pretend those pained groans so high in their cadence they can only count as whines don’t come from Hawkins High’s Golden Boy who graduated a few months ago and was supposed to be done with bullshit like this.

“Come on, up you get,” he tells him, not daring to raise his voice too much.

He looks so frail. Like he’s already broken. Or like he’s trying not to. Like he’s holding on.

Eddie pretends not to think that the hand he places on Steve’s cheek to gently pry him from the window is not the only thing keeping that boy together right now.

Harrington groans, whines, wheezes, but opens his eyes to meet Eddie’s. Jesus, we’re they this blown before? Or this swollen?

“Hey,” Eddie says, just to say something. Just so he won’t have to hold the boy’s face in silence, just so he won’t have to focus on all the blood. Just so he won’t have to hear more questions that people aren’t supposed to ask.

Steve opens his mouth, his breath coming out a little sharper, like he wants to say Hi rather than Where am I? or When will it stop hurting? Like he wants to say How can I help you help me?

Somehow, Eddie manages a smile.

Wayne chooses that moment to open the door — just unclicking it, not pulling yet; giving Eddie enough time to support Harrington, make sure he doesn’t fall.

“Careful,” he whispers, though whether it’s for Wayne, for Steve, or for himself, he can’t quite tell. Maybe it’s a plea to the rest of the world, and to anyone else who will listen.

Steve is still staring at him. That’s probably not a good sign. He leans back a little, turning Steve’s head to make him follow him. Slowly, of course. Gently. Eddie can’t remember ever having touched something like it was going to break if only he looked at it wrong, but somehow he’s hyper-aware of it now.

Because Harrington is staring at him. Entirely too still, like he has no strength, no coordination to do anything but stare. And yet Eddie is the one who, now that the adrenaline has fallen from him, now that he can let someone else take over, now that Harrington doesn’t need him anymore, finds himself unable to look away.

Because Steve is just a boy. And so is Eddie, who can feel Steve’s breath against his wrist. And maybe, out of the two of them, Eddie is the fragile one. The one about to break.

“Blue, you with me?”

Steve nods. Doesn’t speak again. Doesn’t move. Eddie swallows, briefly looking back down at Wayne to see if he’s ready. His uncle nods, ready to catch Harrington should he go down, and Eddie turns back to the boy who’s smeared with his own blood.

“I’m gonna take off your seatbelt now, yeah?” he tells him, not entirely recognising his voice anymore. “That man out there, that is Wayne. My uncle. He’s safe. He’ll take care of you, okay?”

“Safe,” Steve breathes, and that shouldn’t be the one thing he focuses on. It shouldn’t sound so unsure. So insecure. So hopeful, so relieved, so— Fucking earnest.

Swallowing all these thoughts, all this desperation and all those questions, Eddie reaches over Steve, one hand still supporting his head and feeling the overheated skin of Harrington’s cheek against his palm, the hint of stubble and the crust of dried blood. As if in slow motion, not daring to make a wrong move and hurt him more than he already does, Eddie frees him the rest of the way, letting the seatbelt slide into its hold behind his shoulder.

“Careful,” he says again, just to say anything, but he is careful, and his hold on Steve is steady.

“‘M careful. Not gonna break, Eddie.”

“I know.” But maybe I will.

“Good. ‘Cause… Don’ wanna break.”

Eddie smiles, despite everything. “You’re not gonna break, Blue. Wayne’ll catch you.”

Harrington loses his focus then, his eyes glazing over, but the small smile on his lips widens. “Blue. ‘S nice.”

Yeah, Eddie thinks. He kinda is.

Somehow, miraculously, they get Harrington out of the van and into the trailer. He throws up halfway to the doorstep, and Eddie curses under his breath while Wayne talks quietly, asking him yes and no questions that Eddie can’t really hear through the ringing in his ears — a strange mix of fear and relief, a panic not quite over, but soothed by his uncle’s familiar voice; even if it’s not directed at him.

“Don’t worry about it, kid, the next rain’ll take care of that. Stop apologising.”

It throws him then, rather suddenly and violently, watching Wayne supporting Harrington, watching the blood smeared boy with the swelling, angry red bruises in his face. Somehow it’s different, seeing him in his home.

This was always a safe space. Always void of everything terrible.

And now there’s a broken boy on his doorstep who’s not Eddie.

He remembers the fear, the panic, the plea for no hospital, Eddie. Can’t go there.

Why not? You need a doctor—

Monsters. Only monsters there.

It paralyses him and he stays where he is, holding the door with an arm that’s heavy like lead, standing on legs that begin to go numb again. He watches, but not really, as Wayne sits Harrington down on the living room couch, between magazines and brochures and some of Eddie’s calculus notes from last night that he was searching for a sketch of a monster he was so certain he’d drawn in the margins a few weeks back.

Now there’s blood on his calculus notes. And Eddie is helplessly keeping the door open as though he’s going to run away any second now. Letting in more trouble to join Harrington on his couch.

He should… He should close the door. Help. Run. Disappear.

“Ed,” Wayne calls, snapping him out of his stupor. “The first aid kit, please. A bottle of water. A clean, wet cloth. A blanket, too.”

Wayne talks him through it, takes it one step at a time, has Eddie bring him one after the other like he knows how much he’s keeping his nephew together by keeping him on the brink of usefulness.

Soon, Wayne has everything he needs, taking care of Harrington and his wounds, keeping him awake and talking so much better than Eddie did, even making him smile here and there, hiding his wince when the motion pulls on his split lip or the huffed breath sends a jolt of pain through his rib that Eddie is absolutely certain must be broken with the way he holds himself — with the way he lets Wayne hold him up.

Wayne is doing his thing and Eddie is hiding, gripping the kitchen counter like a vice, staring both unseeingly and hyper-vigilantly as exhaustion washes over him, dragging him under and draining him of more than adrenaline. He slumps against the cupboard behind him, rubbing at his face like that’ll make it all go away.

It’s not right. It’s not. This is Eddie’s home, it’s supposed to be safe, it’s not…

He breaks away, ripping his hands from the counter and all but stumbling outside, heaving a deep breath and giving in to the urge to cry. Tears spring to his eyes and he wipes them away angrily, because it’s dumb, it’s so stupid, it’s absolutely fucking insane that he should be so worked up when Harrington talked about dying earlier.

These things don’t happen. They don’t!

“Stop fucking crying,” Eddie grumbles, sniffling and wiping away more tears as he closes his eyes against the afternoon sun. “Get a grip, Munson, Jesus Christ, there’s no reason to cry you big fuckin’ baby.”

Nobody’s there to contradict him. Nobody’s there to make it worse. So he lets his eyes sting for a while, lets his lips wobble, his jaw clenched shut, the balls of his hands pressing into his eyes, breathing deliberately.

In. Hold. Out. Hold.

He doesn’t even scream. Doesn’t punch the still bloody side of his van, doesn’t run into the woods and disappear into the void.

He simply breathes. Tries not to think about boys dying in mall fires, and even less so about boys beaten and abandoned in boat houses.

Doesn’t think about fucking Hawkins in Bumfuck-Indiana and the cursed way it has, driving its people mad.

Doesn’t think about, They said my brain is hurt, Eddie. Doesn’t think about the Monsters Harrington mentioned. Doesn’t think about Blue, doesn’t think about I’m tired, Eddie. Don’t wanna hurt anymore.

Doesn’t think about blue, blue, blue.

He’s shaking when he comes back inside. He’s shaking when Harrington meets his eyes, looking a little clearer now, the blood washed away and everything bandaged a lot better than Eddie managed. He’a bundled in Eddie’s blanket. It’s wrong. It’s so, so wrong.

Eddie can’t move, and neither does Steve.

“Steve,” Wayne says, waiting until those eyes tear themselves away from Eddie and back to him, though Eddie sees them fill with such trepidation, he almost asks what’s wrong. “I won’t hear a no on this, and I won’t let you go home. I’m taking you to the hospital. Especially if you tell me your head was hurt like this before, more times than one.”

“Three,” Blue breathes, a little dazed still. Not magically healed, not even from Wayne. Another thing that doesn’t feel right.

“Three times,” Wayne says, nodding, like he’s encouraging Steve to continue.

“But I don’t want a hospital.” Again with that tiny fucking voice. Like the Monsters are hiding under hospital beds.

“I know, son,” Wayne sighs, tugging the blanket a little tighter around Steve, and Eddie’s eyes begin to sting again when he notices the tone Wayne uses. When he realises. When he remembers.

”I want my mom.“

”I know, son. But she’s not coming. Your mama is gone, Ed, and this is your home now. Think we can make that work, hm? You and I?”

Eddie had never felt so lost as he did then, clutching his blanket to his chest, burying his face in the wet fabric even as this man — his uncle — tugs it tighter around him. Like he is fine with Eddie wanting to hide as long as he doesn’t run away.

He had shrugged, then, even though we wanted to shake his head, tell him no, tell him he wanted his mama.

”I’m scared, uncle Wayne.”

And Wayne had smiled a little, and nodded. “Then we do it scared, Eddie.”

Actually, Eddie feels like he never stopped doing it scared.

And now there is Steve, who Eddie never believed knew what being scared felt like. It’s dumb, of course, because even Harrington is just a boy, but he was always untouchable to Eddie. They never talked. They never existed in the same space together, not in a good way and not in a bad way. Their worlds just never aligned, never collided, never coexisted.

And now…

“I’ll tell you what’s going to happen, okay? There’s a doctor, Doctor Clarke. Like— Yeah, like your science teacher, remember him? ‘S got a brother who’s just as much of a genius, and just as kind. He’ll take a look at you, yeah? Make sure your brain isn’t too hurt, clean your wounds, give you something for the pain. He won’t, uh. He won’t hurt you, kid. Whatever’s got you so scared, Dr Clarke will be nice to you. Especially when I’m there with ya, I’m an old pal of his. And I will be. Won’t let you outta my sight until you’re well enough to run away from me, you hear me, kid?”

Eddie’s hands are hurting, his fingertips raw from where he’s been biting his nails while Wayne talks Blue through what’s going to happen — and he wonders, with the way Steve’s eyes are glued to Wayne, if he ever had anyone talking him through shit like this.

“Okay,” Harrington breathes at last, still sounding way too small. “But. I’m…”

“Scared anyway?” Wayne offers. Steve nods. You’re so blue, Stevie. “Then we do it scared anyway.”

And they do. Wayne goes to get the car so Steve won’t have to walk too far, leaving Eddie alone with him for a brief moment.

He watches, from his place in the kitchen, how Steve’s face falls into a look of utter exhaustion and tiredness; the adrenaline washing from him just the same. Eddie wants to reach out. Wants to say something, break the spell of tension and silence and I know we don’t talk, but I’m glad you’re doing a little better. I’m glad you’ll go see a doctor. I’m glad you haven’t died, I guess. Do you really think you will? Are you really so scared of that?

But Eddie keeps biting his nails, and Steve keeps his eyes closed, blanket around his shoulders. And they don’t talk.

“Thank you.”

Eddie perks up, not entirely sure he didn’t imagine the words — but Harrington moved slightly, his eyes still closed but his face now turned towards Eddie.

“For, uh. This.”

“I didn’t do shit, Blue,” Eddie says. “That was all Wayne. All I did was freak out, I promise.”

Harrington shakes his head, though, slowly. “Mh-mm.”

Eddie’s mouth snaps shut, because there is no room for discussion here. They don’t talk. And he doesn’t want the bubble to burst with insecurity and sourness.

“Thank you,” he says again, and he sounds final about it. It makes Eddie wonder what he’s like, really like, when he doesn’t consist of pain and nausea and disorientation.

He has a feeling that, despite everything, despite Monsters under hospital beds and torture in boathouses and mall fires that kill teenagers, Blue Harrington might be someone good to talk to. Compassionate as shit, even when all he wants to do is pass out.

“You’re welcome,” Eddie rasps, pretending that his eyes don’t sting.

He wraps his arms around his chest like he’s hugging himself, or like he’s holding himself back. From reaching out, from asking, from telling, from talking.

Unwittingly, even with his eyes closed, Steve mirrors him, and Eddie wonders if he, too, it holding himself back, or just curling in on himself some more even though it must hurt, feeling so small.

Maybe that’s what fear of death does to a nineteen year-old. It’s so fucked up. Eddie wants to scream again.

Outside, he hears a car door fall shut just before Wayne reappears in the door, giving Eddie some kind of meaningful look that he wouldn’t mind deciphering on any other day, but today he fears he needs words.

“I don’t know how long this’ll take. Will you be okay, Ed?”

“Will I be— Yes! I’m not the one with the concussion, man, of course I’ll be—“

It’s a bluff, comes too fast, and Wayne sees right through it before Eddie even realises it, and he steps closer. A warm hand on his shoulder. His eyes stinging again.

“You did good, kid. Everything will be fine. But it might take a while. It’s fine if you need to go somewhere, just… Don’t drive. Call Jeff if you need someone, just. Don’t do anything stupid. And don’t get behind the wheel. Deal?”

Eddie swallows hard, hit by another desperate, aching wave of I wanna go back in time and skip this day. A wave of tired exhaustion and wondering, aimlessly, just who the fuck Steve Harrington really is.

“Deal,” he says, and Wayne pulls him into a hug.

Eddie follows them outside then, trailing behind them like a lost little puppy, helping Harrington into Wayne’s car. His movements are still slugged and a little disoriented, so Eddie decides to lean in again and fasten his seatbelt.

“Careful,” he mumbles, allowing the boy a moment’s warning, a moment to adjust before the weight settles on his chest.

Dejá-vù hits him and makes him pause, with Harrington staring at him again.

“I’m careful,” he says, the corners of his mouth tugging into a little smile.

More lucid than earlier, and Eddie thinks it that which takes his breath away for a moment.

“Not gonna break, Eddie.”

“I know,” he says, still not moving back, instead reaching up to tighten the blanket around his shoulders even though the seatbelt is already there to hold it in place. “You’re not gonna break, Blue.”

The smile on those lips is genuine now, gentle enough to not be ruined by the blood crusting them.

“Thanks. Again.” And then, when Eddie finally pulls away to close the door and tell Wayne to drive safely, “I really do like that name.”

It soothes the urge to scream.

Eddie closes the door as gently as he can — which isn’t much, because the car is old and not exactly smooth.

“I’ll see you later,” he tells Wayne. Promises. To stay out of trouble, to stick around, to not run away for a while again, to stay out of his car.

Wayne nods, a faint smile on his lips.

“Later, Ed.”

And then they’re gone, and Eddie is untethered again. Wonders, for a few seconds every now and then if it really happened, if this is real.

But it did. And it is.

And after sitting on the steps for a while, having a smoke and staring at where Wayne’s car disappeared ten, twenty, forty minutes ago, Eddie heads inside.

He has a phone call to make.

🤍🌷 tagging: @theshippirate22 @mentallyundone @ledleaf @imfinereallyy @itsall-taken @simply-shin @romanticdestruction @temptingfatetakingnames @stevesbipanic @steddie-island @estrellami-1 @jackiemonroe5512 @emofratboy @writing-kiki @steviesummer @devondespresso @swimmingbirdrunningrock @dodger-chan @tellatoast @inkjette @weirdandabsurd42 (a thousand percent sure i missed some but oh well such is the 3am disease)

addendum 22 jan 24: onwards to part 3

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington whump #this is so long i am SORRY #i hope tagging y'all was okay (and equally i'm hoping i missed nobody but also it is 3am)#who did this to you #most of y'all will know most of the beginning already maybe i should have split it up but i wanted y'all to have Something New too #and then the Something New got out of hand and oh well :(#dio words

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