Wherefore dost motivation hold deep hatred for me?
As the heading probably implies, I am currently lacking a lot of motivation, which is truly sub-optimal because I literally have my Italian GCSEs this week and I literally have not revised. Moreover, my End of Years are fast approaching and I have my French GCSEs in three week's time. Help.
Consequentially, even though my history teacher still refuses to believe that it is a word, I have decided to turn this into one of those posts where my dopamine literally just relies on the number of notes that I recieve. As promised, @the-red-planet-mars, the floor is yours you have been tagged.
Rules:
Please don't spam the comment section.
You can tag a maximum of 5 people.
Please don't spam reblog.
10 notes: I will actually plan my English homework so that I can then do it without having to ask for an extension. It is due on the day on which I have two of my Italian papers.
15 notes: I will update my 'Aeneid' notes so that my virtual document is up to date with the translations that we have done in class. I should technically also revise the themes and how Juno is portrayed, but we don't talk about that right now.
20 notes: If I haven't done this yet, I will create both a Spanish Quizlet with all the vocabulary I need to learn and I will create a Latin one for all the vocabulary from 'The Aeneid' that I need to know.
25 notes: I will plan, in English, different things that I could say for the picture for my French IGCSE oral. Also, this is a picture I will be using for my Spanish End of Years, so that is doubly helpful.
30 notes: I will do an Italian listening paper though I will listen to it at a faster speed than what is asked because otherwise I will literally get so bored and lose all will to live.
45 notes: I will finish researching Virgil and the historical context.
60 notes: I will practice Latin and Greek vocabulary on Quizlet every day after this week, for at least 10 minutes each day for each language.
75 notes: I really need to do this. I will make a poster with how to form different tenses in Italian.
100 notes: I will do an Italian Writing practice paper. This is going to cause me so much suffering. Help me.
120 notes: I will actually write down different expressions, including idomatic phrases, that I could use to describe the picture for my French IGCSE oral.
130 notes: I will make physics notes on energy.
140 notes: I will make notes on quantitative chemistry.
150 notes: I will make a poster with how to form different tenses in French.
155 notes: I will watch the AQA videos on the Cold War and make notes on them.
170 notes: I will do a practice Spanish listening paper.
200 notes: I will practice Latin and Greek vocabulary on Quizlet every day after this week, for at least 30 minutes each day for each language, including a written vocabulary test.
230 notes: I will do a practice Spanish reading and writing paper.
250 notes: I will do a practice Latin translation and ask my teacher if she happens to have a mark scheme.
270 notes: I will do a practice Greek translation and ask my teacher if she happens to have a mark scheme.
300 notes: I will finish my RSP notes on Crime and Punishment.
350 notes: I finish my Biology notes on reproduction.
380 notes: I will finish my RSP notes on Religion and Life.
430 notes: I will look through my history notes on Germany and finish them in accordance to the AQA book.
520 notes: I will do a practice Greek language paper.
530 notes: I will do a practice Latin language paper.
605 notes: I will actually write down different expressions, including idomatic phrases, that I could use to describe the picture for my Spanish End of Year oral.
720 notes: I will finish my RSP notes on Buddhism.
850 notes: I will make full notes on the Cold War.
Honestly, if you have even bothered to read through all of these, you have absolutely earned more respect that I thought I was capable of giving to a single human being. I technically have a lot more things I should do, including re-reading Things Fall Apart and actually making complete maths notes, as well as notes for the sciences, but I doubt I will never get this many tags anyway.
Edit: It has been five minutes and I already got 14 notes. I am actually terrified of this site. What in Tartarus? Y'all are crazy and I love you so much.
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Eddie’s Memory Log Day 1:
part 2 here | part 3 here | part 4 here | part 5 here | part 6 here
(ao3 link here)
The only reason Steve volunteers to keep a journal to track Eddie Munson’s skim-milk memories, is because of the twerps.
They have school, they can’t commute to the government-protected hospital that’s all the way in the city. That, and they gave Steve this well-rehearsed, tearjerker performance about how grateful they would be.
About how grateful Eddie would be.
Pfft like shit on a stick, he’ll be grateful. The dude doesn’t even remember how old he is, how the hell is supposed to be grateful for Steve Harrington jotting down notes in binder?
But those kids have been through Spielberg-level disaster shit. Steve has too, but they’re just kids.
So he’ll do it. He’ll do it for them and only them.
Eddie knows his name today.
He’s pissy - he’s always pissy cause Eddie is battered up beyond belief. But still, he’s extra pissy today because Dustin is his favorite visitor and he hasn’t stopped by in almost a week.
Eddie knows Dustin’s name today too.
And guess who’s his least favorite visitor?
“Harrington.” Eddie grumbles, mouth full of lime jello. “Who paid you to be here today?”
Remembers Steve’s name… last name.
“No one.” Steve makes himself comfy in the vinyl armchair. “Call me crazy, but I’m not too big on taking lunch money from sophomores.”
Speaking of which…
“Do you know you know how old you are?”
Eddie crumples the plastic jello container. “You’re a patronizing sack of shit.”
Steve rolls his eyes, starts to write down:
Eddie doesn’t know his age.
“Twenty.”
Eddie does know his age (20).
“Swell.” Steve fakes his amusement. The kids are much better at cheerleading Eddie along in this process. But Steve’s poker face is nonexistent. Sarcasm and assholery occupy every seat in his brain these days.
They go through a few more questions before Eddie begins to get tired. He’s tired a lot, even though the coma knocked him out for almost four months.
Guess holding hands with Death really takes it out of a person.
Eddie doesn’t know his birthday.
But Eddie does remember it’s in the winter (has a memory of seeing leafless trees from an early childhood birthday party).
Eddie remembers his uncle’s name.
Eddie doesn’t remember which street he lives on.
Eddie has a headache (that’s not a memory thing - he’s just told Steve a thousand times now).
“I’ll let you rest.” Steve folds the binder shut, sort of desperate to do anything to get Eddie to stop whining. Seriously, he thought this guy was funnier pre-bat attack.
Eddie doesn’t remember he has a sense of humor.
“You don’t have to stay, you know.” Eddie settles into his pillows.
Steve shrugs, puts his hands behind his head. “I took the bus from Hawkins today. The next one doesn’t leave for another few hours.”
“Still… it’s a city, right? You can go explore or whatever. Be a tourist.”
Yeah Eddie’s persuasive skills aren’t completely back either, it’s all very half-assed.
“Been here before.” Steve lounges deeper into the squeaky chair material. “I’m good.”
“Probably haven’t seen everything is all I’m saying -”
“Do you want me to leave that bad?”
Steve doesn’t shout, but his tone takes up space. Makes the room feel crowded with accusations and cutthroat honesty.
Eddie stares back hard. Sometimes, he doesn’t look like Eddie Munson - he looks like this war victim with knotted-up hair and sulky brown eyes.
Like a John Doe cadaver - tagging his foot with the possibility of Eddie Munson.
Anyways, that’s how he looks right now as he stares at Steve. Barely Eddie.
“Just. I don’t know you.” That’s a shitty ass comeback for someone with a memory-tank that’s perpetually blinking with the low-engine light on.
Eddie continues with his weak argument. “Were we close enough back home that you’d stay here while I sleep?”
Eddie doesn’t remember Steve ignoring him in high school for four years.
Steve finds no reason to lie. “No. We weren’t close at all.”
“Right.” Eddie nods once. “So why do this? What are you getting out of this?”
This is a complicated situation to explain to anyone, let alone to someone with fuzzy comprehension abilities. But Steve gives it a whirl:
“Look, we have mutual friends that are… younger. Dustin’s age. And whether I like it or not, they’re like siblings to me now - I’d do anything for them. But they’re in school, they can’t be here every day like I can.”
“Why can you be here?” Eddie asks.
“I lost my job.”
Eddie attempts sympathy. “Sorry.”
Eh, Steve gives him a B-minus.
“Didn’t like it anyways.” Steve reassure him plainly. “The point, I’m doing this for them. For you too, but they’re the anchors in this.”
Eddie thinks for a moment - readjusts to laying on his side, facing Steve. “Won’t you need a new job eventually?”
“Nah. Trust Fund Baby.” Steve points both thumbs at his chest.
“Yeesh.” Eddie rolls to the other side, away from Steve. Disgusted by his comment, yet still chuckling very quietly.
Okay… Eddie does remember he has a sense of humor (just a teensy bit).
His breathing becomes long and hard - sleep heavy breathing. It doesn’t take long, sleep seems more natural to Eddie right now than being awake.
Steve watches him for a moment. There’s always the ghostly-distant fear that Eddie might stop breathing. He’s done it before - four months ago and once more while he was still at the hospital in Hawkins.
Max is still asleep. Steve hates thinking about that detail because it’s cruel. This twisted game that the universe is playing is truly unjust.
Like an Almighty Asshole rolled Eddie’s stupid dice and decided, ‘I’ll let one of your friends wake up, but he won’t remember that he battled along side you in the trenches of darkness. Take it or leave it, douchebag.’
Steve will take it.
Eddie is still sleeping when Steve decides to head out - the bus will be arriving soon and he’s gotta get a window seat. Needs control over the window cause he gets carsick way too fucking easily these days.
“Heading out?” Eddie mumbles, eyes not even open.
“Yeah - sorry.” Steve doesn’t know why he whispered that. “Didn’t think I should wake you.”
“I gotcha. I’m assuming you’ll be back tomorrow?”
Huh… Steve thinks there might be a hint of implication that Eddie wants him to come back tomorrow. Interesting.
“Your memory isn’t as shitty as you think it is.” He’s overly smug when he says it.
Eddie gives him a closed-lip smile. Only Dustin and Wayne receive those.
“Want me to pick up some food on my way in?” Steve decides to give generosity a try, since Eddie is tolerable enough to give him a smile. “Get you off of this lousy hospital meal-plan temporarily?”
The smile is gone. “Nah, you don’t have to do that.”
Right.
Eddie definitely remembers how to be Stubborn with a capital ‘S’
But Steve is a Trust Fund Baby, so he’s unfazed with difficult behaviors. He can match difficulties all damn day if he wanted to.
Which he does.
“Suit yourself, Munson.” Steve acts so uncaring. Very uppity and douchey. “I’m thinking Chinese takeout for me personally.”
“Cool.”
“Cool. See you tomorrow then.”
There’s a pause, so Steve takes that as his sign to turn the handle, get the hell out of here.
“Steve?” Eddie calls weakly just before he shuts the door behind him.
He cracks it open, peeks his face back in. “Yeah?”
Eddie sighs. “Kung Pao Chicken.”
“Excellent choice.”
Eddie gives him another closed-lip smile.
Steve grins wildly, with all of his teeth. “In fact, I think I’ll do the same.”
And as Steve claims his middle seat on the bus, he pulls the binder back out of his backpack to add one more note for the day:
Eddie remembers that he likes Kung Pao Chicken.
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