What's Up? ✌🏻😎

Emma but I prefer to go by Em. 20. She/they. Biromantic demisexual demigirl✌🏻😗. Send in moodboard ideas😊😊. If you wanna find my previous moodboards, I try to tag them with the tag "emma makes moodboards" but I've definitely forgotten to tag a couple and now they're lost in the abyss of tumblr. My twitter is EmmaElsa000. My Ao3 is EmmaElsa0000. On tiktok as emmaelsa0000. Steddie For Life. We do not stan st*rker on this blog🤢🤢. Matching pfps with my bestie Trinity.

[emma-elsa-0000]

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[mialoveseddie]

They’re in Steve’s parents’ bathroom. It’s the only room with good light, and now there’s blood on the bathroom tile and Both of them are banged up, but Steve insisted on Eddie first. Steve has Eddie perched on the edge of the tub with the first aid kit open on the sink. His hands are way steadier than they should be for a guy who almost watched Eddie almost got killed.

Eddie hisses when the antiseptic hits the gash on his forearm. “Jesus— ow, ow, nurse Harrington, careful—”

“Quit squirming or I’ll make it worse,” Steve mutters but he’s already easing up and blowing on the cut like that’ll actually help. Somehow for Eddie it does. Eddie watches him work. Steve’s brow is furrowed, lip caught between his teeth in concentration. There’s a bruise blooming on Steve’s own jaw that he’s completely ignoring.

Steve shifts to check Eddie’s ribs and fingers ghosting over a nasty purple splotch. He lingers and Eddie’s mouth runs before his brain can stop it “You gonna kiss it better, big boy?”

It’s meant as a joke. Deflection. His usual armor. But Steve doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t roll his eyes. He just looks up through his lashes, and his voice goes quiet.

“Would that help?”

Eddie’s brain short circuits right there All the smartass replies die in his throat.

“Steve—”

Steve’s thumb brushes the unbruised skin just beside the bruise, careful as ever . “‘Cause I would. If you asked me too.”

The bathroom’s too small. The air’s too thick. Eddie realizes Steve’s hands are shaking now too, and it’s not from adrenaline from the fight earrlier.

[mialoveseddie]

It’s Halloween 1984 and Steve Harrington has nothing left. Nancy broke up with him. His friends ditched him. He’s storming out of the party with his hands on his face, sobbing when Eddie Munson who’s selling catches him and offers a ride Steve’s about to refuse but figures he doesn’t want anyone else to see him crying.

Steve collapses in Eddie’s passenger seat, shaking and ugly crying. Eddie has no clue what to do, so he just awkwardly pets Steve’s hair like he’s a stray dog. “Shit, Munson,” Steve sniffs, “you probably think I’m a pussy.” And Eddie goes dead serious shaking his head “No, man. I don’t.”

They are parked outside Steve’s dark empty house smoking what’s left of Eddies lunch box and Steve tells him everything. Nancy. Him losing friends and how it feels to be King of nothing. Eddie’s floored they’re even talking, let alone like this. But then Steve whispers it. “I just want to run away.”

Eddie doesn’t even blink. “Okay.”

Steve, startled: “Okay what?”

“Let’s run away.”

[zakkura]

"If you don't turn the heat down, I'm gonna kill you,"

Steve snorts from his position on the floor, cigarette between his fingers as he watches Eddie dangle headfirst off of Steve's bed.

"Such a whiner," Steve rolled his eyes and then casually held the cigarette out to Eddie without moving too much.

Eddie, who was currently watching him from a somewhat upside down angle, glared at him, but still took a hold of the cigarette nonetheless.

"Not a whiner, I just don't like to be turned into cooked chicken when hanging out, is all," Eddie took a drag, puffing smoke around the room.

"You're more of a turkey," Steve grinned, watching Eddie's lips close around the cigarette.

"Oh yeah?" Eddie tilted his head to meet Steve's hazel eyes, "why?"

"All gangly and stuff," Steve chuckled, reaching for the cigarette, but Eddie moved it away. "Gangly?!"

Steve watched Eddie's upside down head, smirking. "Yeah,"

"Dude, that's like, so fucking rude,"

Eddie began to laugh, watching Steve as he too, started too chuckle. "Here, butthead," Eddie held the cigarette out to him, his long fingers incredibly distracting for Steve.

"Hm," Steve grinned to himself, leaning down and catching the cigarette with his lips, brushing Eddie's fingers, "thanks Munson,"

Eddie's cheeks explode in a lovely shade of pink, his breath hitching so much that he started to choke and quickly sits up straight on the bed, punching his chest.

"Jesus Christ!" he squeaked, his eyes wide as he stared at Steve, whom was now on the floor again, his shirt lifted so his stomach was showing a bit, making Eddie feel like a Victorian man seeing ankle for the first time.

"Something wrong?" Steve kept his eyes locked on Eddie's, his lips closing around the cigarette.

"No..." Eddie whispered, "nothing wrong at all," he crawled across the bed, carefully sliding off and kneeling above Steve, hands beside the other man's head.

Steve's eyes were daring him to kiss him, Eddie could practically read the kiss me signs and it made him tremble.

"Do it," Steve finally spoke up after a long silent pause; his free hand tugging Eddie's shirt, "do it,"

Eddie let out a strangled noise, diving downward and capturing Steve's lips, tasting the smoke and mint from the sweets Steve had had earlier.

Steve moaned slightly, making sure to keep the cigarette from falling on to the carpet.

When Eddie pulled away, he hovered near Steve's face, a smile on his face.

"Am I still a turkey?" he asked with all the seriousness of a pineapple.

Steve grinned, licking his own lips, enjoying the fact he could still taste Eddie on them.

"A sexy turkey," he snorted, stubbing the cigarette out before wrapping his arms around a laughing Eddie, lips hungrily finding him.

"And people think I'm the freak," Eddie let out a startled noise as he was effortlessly flipped onto his back, Steve pinning him down with a smirk, looking so devastatingly attractive that Eddie was certain he was a Siren sent by an Eldritch horror.

"Are you suggesting that you don't like the way I talk?"

"Dude, I'm just annoyed you called me a Sexy Turkey,"

Steve hummed, kissing Eddie slowly, his large hand touching the side of his face.

"So you don't want the benefits that come with that compliment?" he mumbled against Eddie's lips, causing the man beneath him to whine.

"I-I didn't say that!" he tried to protest and as soon as Steve went to move, he panicked and wrapped his legs around Steve's waist, bright red in the face, "shut up! I don't wanna hear how red I am, shut up!"

Steve was so in love with this man.

[mkaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyy]

Steve functioning as Corroded Coffin's manajor a while after he starts dating Eddie. He doesn't really mean to start doing it, but after a certain point he just kinda begins to help. Smoothes over disputes. Supplies snacks because god knows they need it between yelling at each other and pouring their souls into their instruments. He figures out their schedules and begins supplying them with practice days that actually make sense. All his knowledge of caring for other people and organizing and being a "team leader" in sports. He puts it all right back into helping his boyfriend's band. At some point he actually puts together their gigs. A good word from someone with the Harringto name, a bit of funds associated with it, and a lot of charm to the owners of bars around town. Steve gladly opens the door for them to be proffessional, and even start getting big. It's a natural decision when he starts managing the band's funds as well. Sure, he never really was interested in putting what his father taught him to use, but being able to track and chart and organize is a great skill now that he's waist deep in managing the band. It shocks him when he overhears the conversation. ("Dude, I get that he's your boyfriend and he's helping out of the good of his heart, but we really should be paying him." "Yeah Ed, and maybe also try not to break his heart. Seriously. I don't think I can go back to a life without Harrington brand homemade brownies." "Do you always think with your stomach?" "Do you think at all?" "Guys- Guys calm down!" He hears Eddie laughing "Don't worry, I'm sorting it out. Kinda hard to figure out how to pay someone when they're the one tracking your budget." There's a pause. "And I'd never break his heart. I love him. I'm in for the long haul... it's really only a matter if he is." Steve feels his heart swell at the tone of pure honesty and affection. Yeah, maybe he want's to do this for the rest of his life.)

[assiraphales]

ok so apparently in celebration of the 250th anniversary of paul revere’s ride this was projected onto a church in boston??

[xiaq]

“A church”?? That’s Old North Church! That’s THE church where the lanterns were lit.

[massachusetts-official]

Official Post of Massachusetts

[beardedmrbean]

Next up someone is going to claim that the Narnia series isn't kids books.

Kids books is probably not the best way to word it, you can enjoy them at every age, including your childhood, as you get older you may find new truths in them, but they're still good for any age.

[mialoveseddie]

Steve knocks on the trailer door holding a casserole. And Wayne opens it and takes one look at Steve’s sweater vest, and says, “You the one that’s been making my nephew smile like an idiot?”

[cqnnibqlistic]

steve has definitely caught eddie in the pantry in the middle of the night. like, hearing rustling that freaks him out so he grabs his phone and turns the flashlight on for help guiding himself to the sounds. and he rounds the corner to find eddie. just standing there in the dark, probably shoveling crackers of some sort into his mouth, eyes glowing in the brightness of steve’s flashlight once it’s shone on him. and of course it freaks steve the fuck out and he has to actively stop himself from shouting in surprise, just staring at his cryptid boyfriend who’s now completely frozen in place.

“hi.”

“hey…”

eddie eventually tucks the bag of crackers back into their box, folding the top shut using the little close tab. somehow well-mannered even though he’s been caught acting like a complete raccoon.

“were you… are you good?”

“yeah. was hungry. woke me up.”

“right. you done?”

“uh…” eddie looks down at the box in his hands before slowly deciding to set it back on its designated shelf. “yeah.”

“bed?”

“bed.”

[babygirlsteveharrington]

Eddie who sleeps like he's been hit by a car. Sprawled across the mattress, limbs everywhere, face mashed into the pillow. Tossing and turning in the night. Steve can't understand how it can possibly be comfortable to sleep with your arms at that angle.

Steve who sleeps like a cat. Literally just curls into a ball and stays there.

Eddie who snores quietly, and Steve thinks it's so cute and it reminds him of a little puppy. Steve who sleeps so silently that sometimes Eddie wakes up in the middle of the night and has to put a hand to Steve's mouth to make sure he's still breathing.

Eddie who hogs the blanket. Steve who hogs the bed, because every time Eddie shifts even the slightest bit away, Steve is shifting to be right back pressed against him. They've woken up with Eddie basically dangling off the edge too many times to count. Sometimes in the night, Eddie will literally just roll Steve back over to his side. Sometimes, Eddie just gets out of bed and moves to the other now empty side. And of course they start the whole process over again.

[badjokesbyjeff]

New York is the exact opposite of Minnesota. New York is where the Big Apple is and Minnesota is where Minneapolis

[mckenzie-t-canis-lupus]

JEFF WE TALKED ABOUT THIS.

[kidovna]

happy 7/7 byler day!

[holly-wheeler]

this is overly specific but I do very much believe that post-s5 max is the type to make jokes about her death/coma situation and that at a certain point lucas has to have a heart-to-heart with her where he's like. hey dude/sweetheart I'm not trying to tell you what to do but that was actually the worst and most traumatic time of my life and every time you joke about your death I remember that time where you were Actually Dead In My Arms And Then Unresponsive For Over A Year so could you maybe. cool it a little with that when you're around me please. and max is like 😳

[harringtonstar]

Steddie but Steve does not realize he’s touch-starved until he and Eddie are together. Cause hey, he has sex. Steve is touched all the time. Right? Dustin hugs him, Robin leans on him like he’s the cluttered counter at family video, and his dates can’t keep their hands off of him. Point is, Steve is fine… so why does he feel so… needy?

He doesn’t even realize it at first. Why would he? It starts with little lingering touches: a hand on the knee, on the small of his back or on his shoulder. Things that leave him unknowingly craving more. That is, until one late night when hanging out at Eddie’s trailer, Steve seems really stressed. Why? He doesn’t really know himself. He’s worked up, pacing, running his hand through his hair until its usual careful style is a mess.

And well, Eddie has had enough by the time Steve starts huffing, so he gets his attention with a wave and drawl of, “alright Harrington. You look tense, dude. And all that pacing is fucking with my nerves. Just c’mere.”

Steve hesitates but quickly decides with a shrug, what the hell, why not? Eddie pulls him down into his lap on the floor at the end of the bed. It’s a little surreal, especially when Steve finds himself liking it when the other boy’s dark curls brush his cheek, tickling his skin. The smell of bong water staining the carpet makes Steve’s nose wrinkle at first, but that’s soon forgotten, because next thing he knows, Eddie is playing with his hair. And it feels good. Really good. Eddie’s long fingers spread out, lightly scratching his scalp and scrunching in his hair, sending tingles all down Steve’s toned arms and back. The veins on his biceps pop out when the muscles in them tighten, a side effect of the heavy, pleasant shudder that runs through him.

Steve isn’t used to this. Sure, his dates run their hands through his hair all the time, tugging and tangling tight. And Steve likes that… but Eddie’s fingers aren’t moving with the intent of something transactional. That’s new. Instead, his fingers are almost sensual as they slowly and purposely run through Steve’s thick waves. Paying extra attention to the little spots next to his ears and nape that curl, because it makes goosebumps rise on his arms. Steve thinks he might almost die right there.

Which would be unfortunate, because he’d miss Eddie adding his lips to the mix. Slow, peppering kisses that have Steve melting even further into a puddle in the metalhead’s arms. Plump, pillowy lips over slightly tanned skin. So warm. Damp too. And maybe just a little bit sloppy as he leaves pecks dotting soothingly over Steve’s moles and freckles. While at the same time, Eddie’s fingers carefully card through the thick expanse of hair on his chest. It would be overwhelming if Eddie weren’t so soft about it. Twice, Eddie sneaks in a sweet kiss to Steve’s lips, their plush mouths slotting together like puzzle pieces. The feeling of it warms Steve considerably, causing pink to dust his cheeks in the low light that makes Eddie grin. Surprisingly, it didn’t take much to settle Steve completely.

And Steve’s eyes would eventually droop with sleepiness—Eddie really is just that good at this whole touching thing—dozing off with his head against Eddie’s chest and the curl of his lips into a smile… because shit, he’s definitely touch-starved, but now he knows what it’s like to be taken care of too.

I decided to try and come out of my long writing slump with some wholesome Steddie, so this is just a quick 2AM blurb about touch-starved Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson trying to fix it. hope you like it!

(also, if you’d like to join my taglist, click HERE)

[whosname]

[id. A twitter post by @/Bennieeexyz Jury duty letter came addressed to my cat. Not a mistake. "Felix Martinez" - that's his full name according to his vet records. My last name. His first name. Somehow he's a registered voter now. Called the county clerk. Me: My cat got summoned for jury duty. Clerk: Is the name correct on the summons? Me: Yes, but he's a cat. Clerk: Is Felix Martinez a legal resident of this county? Me: He's a legal cat. Clerk: Sir, if the name matches our records, he needs to appear or file an exemption. Me: He can't file anything. He has paws. Clerk: You can file on his behalf. Me: Under what exemption? There's no box for "is a cat." Clerk: (pause) Check "unable to serve due to medical reasons." Me: What's the medical reason? Clerk: He's a cat. Me: That's not a medical condition. Clerk: It is if it prevents him from serving. Sent in the form. Got rejected two weeks later. "Insufficient documentation. Please provide medical professional's statement." Took the letter to my vet. Me: I need you to write that my cat can't do jury duty. Vet: Why is your cat summoned for jury duty? Me: Excellent question. No good answer. Vet: This is the weirdest request I've gotten. Me: Can you just write that he's medically unfit to serve? Vet: On what grounds? Me: He's a cat. Vet: (started typing) "Patient is unable to serve due to species-related limitations including inability to speak, read, or comprehend legal proceedings." Me: Perfect. Sent it in. Got another rejection. "Summons is mandatory. Failure to appear will result in contempt of court." My roommate thought this was hilarious. Roommate: Felix is going to jail. Me: This is serious. Roommate: Bring him to court. See what happens. Decided that was actually the only option left. Day of jury duty, put Felix in his carrier. Brought the entire paper trail of rejection letters. Checked in at the courthouse. Clerk: Name? Me: Felix Martinez. Clerk: (looked at the cat carrier) Is that Felix? Me: Yes. Clerk: (long stare) He's a cat. Me: I've been saying that for six weeks. Clerk: Why didn't you file an exemption? Me: I filed three. All rejected. Showed her the letters. She read through them, expression shifting from confusion to disbelief. Clerk: Someone rejected the veterinary documentation? Me: Twice. Clerk: (called her supervisor over) You need to see this. Supervisor read everything. Looked at Felix. Looked at me. Supervisor: How did a cat get registered to vote? Me: You tell me. Supervisor: This is a data error. Me: Took you six weeks to figure that out. They dismissed Felix immediately. Apologized for the inconvenience. Supervisor: We'll remove him from the voter registry. Me: Appreciate it. Supervisor: (pause) Out of curiosity, how would he have voted? Me: Probably whatever party supports universal treats. Got a formal apology letter a week later and a voter registration card. For me this time. Apparently I wasn't registered, but my cat was. Roommate: Felix committed voter fraud. Me: Felix committed nothing. He's innocent. Roommate: That's what they all say. Felix is sleeping on the jury summons now. Fitting end to his legal career. end id]

[machtaholic]

Steve used to hate being called pretty.

His mother said it in the tone of a woman who'd wished she'd had a daughter to dress in frilly, lacy things.

His father said it with disdain, an insult. Dsgust that he was the father of a 'pretty boy'.

Steve tried to be manly and handsome, to accentuate those things instead of what people commonly commented about his as being 'pretty'. He hid and he hid and he hid.

Until Eddie.

Eddie barreled into his life, loud and brash and being exactly who he was. No hiding.

And Eddie saw through the carefully cultivated mask Steve'd created and had gently coaxed it away. With gentle hugs and soft words. With sweet kisses and assurances that Steve was perfect as he was.

Until Steve finally felt pretty again.

[steviewashere]

Eddie making fun of Steve for his taste of music, specifically for his seemingly oversaturated love for Bruce Springsteen.

But then Steve shows up one day, tape in hand, and slams it into Eddie's chest.

"What"—

"Nebraska. Springsteen. Listen to it and then tell me if you think he only writes bullshit top 40 crap." He takes a breath, like he's hesitating. And then tells Eddie, "My Father's House. That's my favorite track. I don't know, maybe we can find common ground."

And the album fucking shatters Eddie's pinpoint world view of Jock Stereotypes. Completely shreds the last bits of his Munson Doctrine. 'Cause this album is devastating.