hi friends !! i am moving over to @bruxaed ! i had to make a new blog unfortunately, but happy to have a consistent user across platforms lol. see u guys there (:
@staff putting ✨new✨ buttons where we reflexively tap for USEFUL things like making a post and accessing our own profile is going to make people REFLEXIVELY HATE THE UPDATES EVEN MORE. This is not a good strategy????
@staff put the account tab back. this is a blogging website. this is not instagram. we want to be able to see our accounts. put it BACK. this is so stupid. it was fine where it was (even if it was already a nuisance since it couldn’t be snoozed).
why did tumblr give me a whole tab dedicated to spending money which i will never use.... give me back my profile tab i used to click it constantly.......
@staff @support @changes @humans @wip PLEASE BRING BACK THE PROFILE ICON! NOBODY NEEDS TUMBLRMART! IT DISRUPTS THE FLOW OF MULTITASKING TO LOOK AT THE DASHBOARD/DRAFTS/LIKES. + ITS GIVING CAPITALISM
tumblr app updated today and replaced the account tab at the bottom right of the screen with the merch store
account is now only accessible on the dashboard tab and u cannot save your place scrolling on your own blog while scrolling the dashboard, a change that has made this app nigh unusable for me. i’m posting here because this blog has thousands of followers, please –get publicly furious about this! send emails complaining to staff! write bad app store reviews! this change is literally so evil and signals worse things to come, i really cherish the space and community this site provides and i’d hate to see it become half buggy and unnavigable tiktok/instagram knockoff #52 and half ugly merch store. thank u for reading.
tumblr delete this stupid fucking “tumblrmart” shit what the hell is this? y’all got time for this but not to get rid of all these ridiculous spam bots? c’mon /:
The years go by. The retail jobs that Steve thinks are temporary keep piling up, but he has no idea what else to do with his life so he just keeps on keeping on.
Until a large tree falls on the lawn of the little house he managed to buy and he gets the quote on removal and the number literally hurts his soul.
He buys a small chainsaw instead. Over the course of a few weeks, he gets most of the branches cut up. He collects some large rocks from down by the quarry and digs out a fire pit in his backyard. On his days off, his friends come over and they sit out back and have a few beers. The pile of wood dwindles.
The giant trunk is another story though. His chainsaw isn't big enough for it. Burning it would take forever, and Steve's terrified he'd disappoint Smoky the Bear. He's at a loss.
Until he sees another giant trunk in someone's yard carved into a bear.
He knows what to do then. Not a bear, but something else. Through trial and error, the trunk becomes the rough shape of a woman, the remnants of the branches like a crown on her head. It's not as amazing as the bear he saw, but it's his. He finds he loves the smell of sawdust and the feeling of creating something.
Just like that, Steve realizes what he wants to do. It takes several months and a lot of yard sales, but he scrounges up the tools he needs to start woodworking. He learns to measure twice and cut once. He makes tables and chairs and carves them with art and designs that get better and better the more he learns. Shockingly, people actually buy his pieces.
Even more shocking comes the realization that he's making enough money to do it full time. He puts in his two weeks notice at Melvald's and hands in his assistant manager badge.
He's not sure he's happy, but he is content. It feels good to work hard and actually have things to show for it. It also feels good to work muscles he hasn't used since high school. He carries on for a few years like that, creating and learning and creating some more.
Then Eddie Munson blows back into town. Invited back so Hawkins can have their most famous alumnus sing the national anthem at homecoming. Steve's honestly surprised he shows at all.
"Can't believe you didn't tell them kiss your hairy ass," Steve says. Because of course Eddie ends up around his fire pit, sipping on Steve's cheap beer like he doesn't have three Grammy awards on his mantel. The years fall away with each drink, reminding Steve of just how much it had hurt when Eddie left. He'd wanted Eddie so bad back then, more than he'd ever wanted anyone. He can feel the echoes of that deep ache across time.
"Pfft. Don't you know all famous people wax our asses now? All the rage in LA." Eddie cuts a look at him and smirks when Steve rolls his eyes, grateful for the lighthearted moment to snap him out of his maudlin nostalgia. "Really though I thought about it, but then I thought it would be way funnier to donate a metric fuckton of money to Hawkins High with the stipulation that it go to the theater and band programs. Kind of bummed they couldn't honor my other request though."
"Which was?"
"My old Hellfire throne. I miss her, but apparently she's not around anymore. Something about water damage."
"Oh yeah. Water main busted a few years back and flooded the theater. I remember that."
"Yeah. Had to settle for the promise they'd make a game lounge and stock it with all the supplies a budding young nerd needs."
"That's really nice, Eds."
Eddie shrugs. "I've been known to be nice on occasion. You'll come to homecoming, right? Moral support?"
Steve hasn't been to homecoming in years because he sees the other people who stayed in town all the time, and he has no interest in seeing the people who didn't. He can only answer the same questions so many times. Oh, I'm doing woodwork now. Yep, I still live right here. Nope, still not married, no kids.
He goes though, and he answers the uncomfortable questions. Because Eddie asked him to. Because no matter how long it's been, Steve can't deny that some part of him still...
He says goodbye after, and Eddie leaves again, and Steve tries not to think about that too much in the following days.
He's halfway into the project before he realizes what he's building. He'd seen Eddie's throne quite a few times back when. What he doesn't have memories of, he makes up. He adds his own touches too, making it a throne fit for a rock star, a nerd, a friend.
He carves ornate patterns, he creates scenes of dragons being beaten back by a man with a guitar, crowds of people that could be knights or concertgoers.
It's his favorite piece he's ever done, and his hands are shaking when he dials Eddie's number. He gets an answering machine and stumbles through a message.
"I made you something. I guess it's kind of silly, but it's here in Hawkins if you want it. Or I'm sure you can afford the shipping if you don't want to come. Just, I made you a chair. It's more of a... Well, you'll see. Unless you don't want to... It's Steve by the way." He hangs up before he can embarrass himself even more.
Eddie doesn't call him back. One day passes and then another. Steve tries not to let it get to him. He works on orders and new projects. He enjoys his little backyard oasis. He rents a few movies and thinks they're okay.
He's debarking some wood in his driveway when the rental car pulls up, Eddie stepping out in ripped jeans and an old Metallica tee. "Hi again, Stevie."
"Oh." Steve clears his throat. "The thing's in the garage. I'll..."
Eddie doesn't say anything for a long time, circling the throne, running his tattooed fingers over each little detail.
"You made this whole thing?"
"I did."
"For me?" Eddie looks at him then, one hand still touching the wood like he doesn't want to let go. Even under the harsh lights of the garage, his eyes are such a warm shade of brown that Steve forgets to breathe.
He nods. "For you."
"Why?"
There are a hundred answers Steve could give, but he spent so long not knowing who he was or who he wanted to be. Too long. "Because you'll always be the one that got away. Because some part of me will always want to make you smile no matter how long it's been."
Eddie falls into the throne like he just got the wind knocked out of him.
"You don't have to respond to that," Steve says. "You can just say thank you and take the chair."
"I can." Eddie blows out a breath. "But that would be incredibly stupid considering half my early ballads are about you."
"What?" Unfair. Steve doesn't have a chair to fall into.
"Oh sure, I changed the hes to shes for a while there because..." Eddie waves his hand. "But they're about you, Steve. God, I should've asked you out. I just thought..."
Hearing those words is a lot like seeing that carved bear all over again, something clicking into place that wasn't quite right before.
"Go out with me now then," Steve says. "Or stay in. I've got a frozen lasagna and I rented Contact."
"Steve Harrington? Asking Eddie 'the Freak' Munson on a date? Did hell freeze over?"
"Pfft." Steve takes a step closer toward what he wants most. "Hell froze over in 1986, Eddie. You were there."
Five months and a lot of long distance phone bills later, Steve opens Harrington Woodworking in Los Angeles. That same day, Eddie takes photos for Rolling Stone posing in an ornate throne in his living room. He tells the reporter exactly who made it and what he means. At concerts, he starts singing those ballads the way he always wanted to. More often than not, Steve stands in the wings singing along.
I like to think that Steve could make ANY kind of DND character to join in, just some complete monstrosity that goes against all the rules ever, and no matter who the DM, Eddie or Will, they'd just:
"I'll allow it."
Cause they've both had (or in Eddie's case: have) a huge crush on him and Mike will always be sat there just unamused.
I also don’t think we acknowledge the fact that young, gay Will Byers is just in proximity to Steve The Hair Harrington enough. He would just look at Steve’s pretty hair and pretty face and pretty clothes and bitchy attitude and think to himself ‘oh my god someone just come hit me im so gay hahaha’ before going back to pining loudly in Mike’s general direction.
Then you’ve got Eddie. Poor, poor Eddie who was nursed back to health right alongside Steve. Who got to witness that Bisexual Himbo Disaster Princess first hand. Who now just pines loudly in the general direction of the boy he thinks is straight.
So Steve shows up like “I’m here to play Dungeons and Daddies. I’m a level 10 human paladin. I worship the God of Music so I’m kind of also a bard. My name is Gregory.”
The whole table erupts into objections. “Nothing about that is something you can do!” Mike shouts over the dim of voices.
Meanwhile Will and Eddie both look at Steve with narrowed eyes before simultaneously declaring “I’ll allow it.”
Eddie honestly heard ‘daddies’ and ‘god of music’ and just sort of - stopped. Just stopped. No thoughts or anything. He just watched as Steve settled in at the table directly across from him.
“Hey Eds.” Steve says flashing a disarming (and Jesus Christ, charming in the most devastating way) smile at Eddie like he’s the only one in the room worth greeting properly. Of course, Eddie had told Steve to ‘stop by if he felt like it’ but he had never in a million years imagined that Steve would.
Mike is very much on the verge of flipping the table. “Will! You can’t be serious! He doesn’t even have a character sheet.”
Steve just scoffs. His face pulls into an incredulous glare as he calmly tugs a partial roll of receipt paper, clearly stolen from Family Video, from his pocket and just starts unravelling it like a god damn lunatic. Dustin leans over, reading it aloud as more and more of it is revealed. It is sort of a character sheet. It’s got all the important bits anyways mingled in with what Dustin describes as ‘doodles of wonky weapons and such’.
“It’s fine Mike. We’ll make him a proper character sheet if he wants to keep playing. For now he can join in for a trial run.” Will tries to placate but Mike is in an absolute froth about this. Nothing can dissuade him.
“We don’t have any extra mini-figs. How will we know where he is?” Mike huffs.
Eddie opens his mouth to say that he does actually have several extras in his backpack. His offer is cut short by Steve digging in his pocket and placing a-
A fucking submarine from Battleship on the board with the rest of the party. And Eddie is clinging to his sanity with a white knuckled grip.
“A boat Steve?” Dustin asks, visibly trying to reel in laughter.
“Yup.” Steve replies with a wild grin. “One could even call it a Dreamboat.”
“Well that’s just great. Really. It’s just- whose dice is he gonna use then?!” Mikes hands are in his hair and he’s looking more manic by the second.
Eddie doesn’t hesitate. He just pulls two fistfuls of dice from his pocket (of course he brought extras, he likes feeling them jungle around in there) and dumps them onto the table in front of Steve. Steve looks up at him with a wide smile, one he sends Eddie’s way more and more often these days.
“Hey thanks Eds.” Steve knocks the toe of his sneaker into Eddie’s ankle under the table before tangling their feet together in a way the feels like it was on purpose. Eddie is immediately distracted by trying to figure out what the fuck it means when one boys ankle is pressed up against another boys ankle. By god, it’s hot out. It’s Summer! They’ve both worn shorts. Very different styles obviously. Eddie’s cut off black denims have nothing on the bright yellow scraps of fabric Steve calls shorts. That’s very much not the point though. Eddie can’t let himself get distracted by Steve’s shorts for the second… okay FINE, the third time that evening when there is skin on skin ankle contact happening right this very second. He needs all his brain cells firing on all cylinders to decipher this moment.bAnyways, it’s while this catastrophic breakdown within the confines of Eddie’s mind is happening that Mike has relented with the loudest ‘silent protest’ pout Eddie has ever seen.
He clears his throat but his voice still cracks as he tries to say “Go for it Baby Byers.” when Will asks if everyone’s readY. Will begins to narrate the scene. Steve’s ankle rubs slowly against his own. It’s gonna be a long fucking session.
@piratefishmama okay this went a little off the rails. I hope you don’t mind. 😅
((Also please note that all of Steve’s things seem chaotic and ridiculous but really, Eddie invited him to DnD while Steve was at work so he and Robin just threw what they had together in a panic so Steve could put the moves on Eddie because his other ‘subtler tactics’ weren’t working))
“Steve,” Eddie grates. It comes out strangled, wet. He feels cold hands on his skin and it’s like he can breathe again. He blinks once, twice, before he can see Eddie kneeling, red eyes welled up and shining.
“Sorry,” he whispers. His eyes shut again. He can breathe. “Didn’t want to wake you.”
“Wake me,” Eddie croaks, and then there’s a cold arm under his bent knees, another around his back. Then he’s in the air, swift and sudden. Everything’s moving slow, but Eddie lifts him like nothing, carries him out of the bathroom like it’s nothing. He doesn’t register that they’re going downstairs until he feels the downward motions.
Eddie outright growls at him. The hand on his waist curls, and turns into a grip. “No.”
Something clicks in his chest and shifts around with the sound of it so close to his ear. He’s pretty sure his head is against Eddie’s shoulder. He feels broad, wide holding him up. Steve isn’t sure how to process it, after seeing him look so small in the corner of his guest room only hours before. He blinks up at him, and catches sight of the firm line between his brows, the harsh set of his jaw.
He doesn’t argue anymore. Not until Eddie puts him down on a barstool in his kitchen and starts to move away. Steve shakes his head immediately, though the motion of it is slow. He isn’t sure he can stay upright.
“No,” he slurs. The sound of his voice is weak to his own ears, but he’s too muddled with fear and discomfort to find shame in what he says, “you said stay close.”
Fingers slide across his jaw and up his cheek to lift his head. Their eyes meet and Steve isn’t sure if he wants to shrink or get closer. There aren’t really words for the way Eddie looks down at him. They’re close enough that he thinks their breaths would mingle, except Eddie’s hardly breathing. He’s still got an arm around his back, his grip on Steve’s waist unrelenting.
Eddie’s nod doesn’t break the tension he feels. It’s like there’s a rubber band between them, pulled taut, and Eddie released his grip on it just slightly.
“Eat,” Eddie says, and he pulls back. “Stay.”
Steve makes this noise when he pulls away, this sound that snakes up from somewhere deep. It’s like whining. Eddie inhales. His response is wordless at first, a squeeze of his hip.
“Stay,” he says again, firmer.
Steve stays.
Excerpt from draft of ch7 of my fic — don’t feed it (it will come back) that you can read here.
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