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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 (:

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@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????

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@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).

put the ACCOUNT tab BACK!

#tumblrmart #i have had it up to HERE #y’all really don’t care about the influx of bots huh #y’all had time to remove the account tab #but no time for the bots apparently #tumblr you suck #put the account button back you fucking cowards #put the account button back

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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.......

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@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

i can’t believe i want to unupdate!!!

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hey 🐌🦪

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.

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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 /:

#put the account button back you fucking cowards #this is so ugly #like bro i don’t want any of this #put the account button BACK #y’all are sick for this

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classic love story

also im fully aware Gareth probably isn't THAT SHORT

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my steddie rendition of „La Belle Dame sans Merci” :]

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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.

#THIS #sobbing #i fell to my knees reading this #steddie

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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.

#steddie #this made me go BRR #i love anything where eddie short circuits over steve #ESPECIALLY when it involves dnd

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“Robin? I kind of want to punch you”

#steve harrington #……… #i need him ……… #barking

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“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.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #this is a kas au #sort of! #mind the tags #this fic is my BABY #i love it so much #and i love everyone who has ever taken the time to read it #loves of my life #thank u goodnight

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steddies this is my callout post i feel like if you’re not early enough to the twt game it’s hard as fuck to make friends.

#no but seriously #i have been on steddie twt since nov and have made zero friends #it sucks to like #see people posting their circles and stuff #i want to be friends with you guys so bad??? #you’re so talented #but i think i was just late to the game so #i just wanna talk abt my comfort characters #with others who love them #thanks that is all

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#vecna after eddie left the upside down, probably:

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me 🤝 eddie munson

being absolutely obsessed with steve harrington and unable to comprehend how no one else is

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"you read a lot, right?"

"yes!"

"what are some books you've read recently?"

"uhh i don't remember"