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#y'all... my brain... help
jmdbjk · 11 months
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Not to be that thirsty but...
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Is it just me or might there be a lack of undies in this pic?
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*zooms in and squints, examines every pixel... none look like panty pixels.
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Yeah, low rez pics, and maybe a filter... but still, no evidence of calvins or any other supportive undergarment. Just smooth freshly waxed tummy.
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Memory Log: Day 52
part 1 here | part 2 here | part 3 here | part 5 here | part 6 here (ao3 link here)
After seeing his ink-smeared biography all over Eddie Munson’s arm, Steve becomes extremely motivated. Obsessed, even.
He assembles a makeshift army. Eddie’s Memory Soldiers, he calls it. Okay - he doesn’t call it that out loud, only to himself (because even Steve is self-aware enough to know how deranged this all sounds).
Steve compiles a ragtag group of Eddie’s friends to nudge his brain along faster. Band mates, theater dweebs, potheads that can carry a tune. All of them bring mixtapes on their visits. After two weekends, there’s already a fuckload of thrashy melodies for Eddie to choose from.
He lets them take the reins on this music-healing plan because there’s no fucking way Steve will be helpful in that department. It means less visits that include his presence, which sort of sucks, but it’s worth it. Worth it to get Eddie back to where he used to be.
Before Steve heads out for one of his morning visits, Robin interrogates him. Asks him the question he’s been ignoring for weeks.
“Steve… not to sound harsh, but why do you care so much?” 
Yeah. Why does he care so much? 
She quickly follows it up with, “I just didn’t know you two were friends now. So I’m just curious, I guess.”
They’re not friends. They’re lukewarm tolerators - tethered together by monster hunting and Dustin Henderson.
They’ve flirted, sure. But who doesn’t? Steve would flirt with half of the leggy cartoon characters that appear on Saturday Mornings if he could. So that’s a weak argument to assume they’re more than just friends. Tolerators. Whatever.
So he lies. To Robin. To himself. Lies so much that it sits in his stomach like motion sickness.
He answers the exact same way he’s been answering since day one:
“I’m just doing this for the kids, Robs.”
He’s pretty sure neither of them are buying that statement. He tries again. Stamps the words onto his confused brain. Considers writing them on his arm just like Eddie might do.
“I’m doing it for them.”
Eddie is always on his Walkman (Steve’s Walkman) now that he has skyscraper of cassettes on his desk. Pretty much every time Steve returns, Eddie is head banging. Won’t stop until the nurses scold him.
Or Steve. He’ll stop if Steve scolds him too.
“You can’t keep jostling up your brain, Munson.” Steve whips the headphones off of Eddie’s ears. “Gonna undo all of our hard work.”
“Our hard work?” Eddie attempts to grab the headphones back. Gives up as soon as their hands make contact. “And who might be included in this our that you speak of?”
“You know…” Me. “The doctors and nurses and your friends.”
“Right.”
This is how things have been going lately. Eddie teases him mercilessly and Steve bats it all away. Doesn’t encourage it for a second.
Which blows so hard because he wants to flirt back. Steve wants to know what Eddie feels like beyond tubes and bandages and hospital gowns. He wants way too much after watching Eddie fall asleep smiling that night. After finding out that Eddie scams his own mind into remembering Steve in technicolor details every day.
But it feels wrong. Deep down, there’s this part of Steve that worries that Eddie only likes the scribbled notes, the good qualities of himself. The non-prickster qualities.
He doesn’t scribble the bad qualities on his arm. Eddie lets himself forget about those every night. 
So it seems wrong. Unfair to let Eddie only remember the good parts of him and take advantage of his weak mind.
Life was a fucking breeze before Steve cared about not taking advantage of people. Shit, he used the world’s biggest advantage-taker before all of this evil wizard nonsense.
“Quiz me, Harrington.” Eddie insists.
So Steve does. Steve goes down the list of questions. Things that Eddie’s memory typically hesitates to recognize. 
Music helps Eddie remember his childhood memories the best.
That’s the biggest discovery they’ve made over the last fourteen days. Tapes that include songs from the early to mid 70’s have the biggest mental impact on his memory skills. Every day, he recalls more moments from his past.
Winter birthday parties. Recess and tire swings. Nineteen chickenpox. A pet hamster named Sterling.
“Can’t believe Wayne trusted you with a living creature.” Steve sneers.
“Never said he did.”
He always gets fuzzy with stuff from the late 70s though. And the early 80s is just a jumbled-up shit show. That’s when Eddie really starts failing his quiz.
“What year did you get the tattoo on your chest?”
“You mean this one?” Eddie pulls down the wrinkly hospital gown, exposing way too much of his collarbone. “Or this one?” He pulls the fabric down even further.
They must’ve finally turned the heat on in this place. Or maybe Steve’s sweater is just extra itchy, scratching his skin all splotchy red. He rubs furiously at the collar, spreads the flush all over by accident. 
His eyes dart up to the fluorescent lights. Away from Eddie’s chest. “Um… the… creepy guy.”
“You’ll sprain your neck looking up like that.”
“Good thing I’m in a hospital then.”
“Okay - seriously, what’s up with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Sure.” Eddie snorts. His heart monitor beeps faster. Steve hates that laughing must be a bit painful for him. “And he’s not some creepy guy. He’s a creepy demon. Please respect the body art and get your facts right.”
“Fine.”
Not flirting back makes Steve feel like he could break out into hives. He has a fucking stockpile of pickup lines. He hoards provocative catchphrases like a horny pack rat. Talking is becoming increasingly difficult when he can’t banter back the way he wants to.
“Don’t remember what year I got it.” Eddie admits. “Sorry.”
Steve pulls his focus away from the ceiling and scribbles that down:
Eddie still can’t remember when he got his tattoos.
“Gee mister,” Eddie imitates a very masculine Shirley Temple voice. “Am I failing the pop quiz already?”
Eddie remembers who Shirley Temple is (weird, but okay).
Eddie does a really shitty impression of Shirley Temple.
Steve just keeps writing. Not even writing words anymore, just moving the pen to stay focused. Stay distracted from flirting.
The energy starts to feel swampy and stiff as he continues to give short responses with lifeless enthusiasm. Steve can tell that Eddie is picking up on the weirdness too. 
He’s so fidgety. Drumming his fingers, twisting the one ring he’s allowed to wear on one of his less busted fingers. Bobbing his knees and kicking off his blankets. 
Eventually, Eddie puts his (Steve’s) headphones back on and closes his eyes. A nonverbal surrender. A borrowed Walkman instead of a white flag. Why does it feel so shitty to see that he is just as defeated as Steve?
Once Eddie is asleep, Steve peaks over at his arms.
The notes are still there. Fading, but there.
It shouldn’t jab him in the heart the way that it does every time he checks, but christ. It’s so fucked up.
Slowly but surely, Eddie is gaining pieces of his past, but never his present. Why the fuck is that? Steve is so selfishly pissed about that because he’s a main role in Eddie’s present life. 
He’s the one that’s here most days. He’s the one that listens to Eddie’s rants and incessant complaints. He’s the one that calls the nurses when Eddie is too prideful to admit when he’s in pain.
Steve should be remembered without smudgey reminders and foggy recollections.
Steve should be un-fucking-forgettable.
After an unhealthy amount of moping, he comes up with an idea. Well, Dustin comes up with an idea, actually. Steve bribed him with nougat and R-rated movie rentals to construct a gameplan.
“And you need Eddie to remember your favorite sweater…why?” Dustin’s mouth is full of chewy candy as he asks.
Steve chucks a raisinette at his dumb hat. “I thought we agreed this was a no questions asked request.”
“You suggested that.” Dustin points at Steve. “I never agreed to it though.”
This is the part Steve despises. If he admits it to others, he has to admit it to himself. And while he’s come a long way since that first day with Eddie, he’s not there yet. His pride can only take so much vulnerability before it fractures completely. “Just… I’m testing a theory I have on his newest memories.”
“Right. And what theory would that be?”
That he thinks about me in kissable ways. “That he remembers more than he gives himself credit for.”
Dustin chugs back his soda and scrunches the can in his grasp. “Okay. Well, the mixtape theory is working decently well with older memories, right?
“Yeah. Definitely.”
“So maybe it can work with newer memories too.”
Steve is lost already. “Meaning?”
“Find songs that relate to you.” Dustin shrugs like duh. He must sense Steve’s hesitation, so he sputters back into his brainy explanation. “Think about it: you’re there all the time -”
“Not all the time, but -”
“Shut the hell up. You’re there all the time, so he must remember the essence of Steve Harrington.”
Steve fake gags. “Don’t say essence, that’s fucking gross.”
“Will you stop interrupting? Jesus christ.” Dustin yells, scrunching the soda can even more with his irritation. “Just make a mixtape with stuff that relates to you. Get his current memories to stick with lyrics and shit.”
Steve twists his mouth to one side. Then the other. “That’s…”
“Genius?”
“I was gonna say worth a shot, but sure.” Steve agrees. “We’ll go with your conceited analysis.”
Dustin finally picks up the raisinette from earlier. Throws it back at Steve. “You should be nicer to me. I possibly just solved your dilemma.”
“I should be nicer to you?” Steve tosses the raisinette into his mouth, despite its questionable duration on the floor. “Dude, you’re never nice to me.”
“Yeah, but it’s affectionate hostility.”
“And that makes it better?”
“Basically, yeah.”
“Fine.” Steve rolls eyes, offers a hand to Dustin. “Thank you for the hostile affection.”
Dustin accepts the handshake. He’s overly smug about it too. “You’re very welcome.”
Memory Log: Day 53
Right away, Steve determines it’s a Kathy Day. Eddie is a verbal nightmare already, whining about the dead batteries in his tv remote.
“I’ll get Sam to grab some batteries when her shift starts.” Steve reassures the bitchy entity possessing Eddie Munson’s body at the moment.
“Why don’t you just get the damn batteries?” Eddie bites back. “You have legs, don’t you?”
“You have eyes, don’t you? Of course, I have fucking legs.” Steve can play it this game. Doesn’t want to but he can be just as obnoxious if Eddie keeps going with his attitude. “Please don’t pull this Kathy shit today.”
That simultaneously shuts them both up for a while. Steve begins flipping through one of the outdated magazines on Eddie’s desk, avoiding the escalated atmosphere. At this rate, there’s no fucking way Steve is going to bring up his mixtape. Kathy/Eddie will probably smash it. Roll over it with the wheels on his imprisoning hospital bed.
Eddie clears his throat, speaking softer than he did at Steve’s arrival. “You know… you were sort of a Kathy yourself yesterday.”
Eddie remembers Steve’s weird mood from the day before (needs to check Eddie’s arm notes to make sure he didn’t write that down).
“Yeah well… I’m allowed to be the pissy one sometimes.” Steve doesn’t look up. He just keeps pretending to read the fossilized magazine in his hand.
“Whatever you say, Harrington.” There’s another pause. Just as awkward as the last one. Their dynamics today are clashing harder than their music styles. Eddie breaks through the awkwardness once again. “So… what’s on the brain agenda today?”
Eddie remembers their pop quizzes.
Right. The quiz. The quiz that Steve has no intention of administering today because he’s supposed to give Eddie this stupid mixtape. 
And look, Steve is pretty good at avoiding shit - homework and phone calls and extended family members. He’s good at dodging shit too, like the relentless one-night stands that can never seem to take a goddamn hint.
But this situation is different because Steve would clearly like to avoid the potential weirdness of giving Eddie Munson a gift. However, he’s innately aware that this particular gift could be helpful. Maybe more to himself than to Eddie, but who knows? If Eddie gets his memory tank back on track and Steve gets someone that reciprocates his affections? 
The payoff might be worth the weirdness.
“I actually wanted to contribute to your…” Steve gestures apathetically at the stack of tapes.
Eddie looks over at them and then back to Steve. “Oh you mean, Munsonopolis?”
“Boooo.” Steve heckles him immediately for that.
“You think of something better then.”
Steve thinks about this way too hard. “The Ed-pire State Building.”
“Boooo.” Eddie imitates Steve’s heckling.
“Better than yours.”
“Says who?”
“Says anyone with a sense of humor.”
“Brave of you to call that a sense of humor.”
“What can I say?” Steve clicks his mouth twice and does the most douchey finger-gun bit, blowing out the nonexistent smoke from each index finger. “I’m something else.”
Eddie bites down over his lip, hard enough that it goes white for a second. Doesn’t take his eyes off of Steve while he bares down.
“You sure are, Steve.”
Oh shit - did they just mindlessly segue onto Flirtation Boulevard without even trying? Is it really that natural with Eddie? Damnit, Steve needs to get his mind on the task at hand.
“Here.” He walks over, lays the tape on Eddie’s lap.
“Is this another one from Gareth?” Eddie flips the tape over, studies the back. “Cause I already assured him that I remember the concert we went to back in ‘84.”
Eddie remembers one of his closest friends.
“No, this one is actually…” Just fucking own up, Steve. “Well, I made it.”
Eddie’s eyes do that sequin thing again. Almost turn into disco balls. “You made me a mixtape?”
Ugh. “Don’t get too flattered, Munson.” 
“Too late.”
Steve was afraid that might be the case. So he does his damndest to channel Dustin Henderson. Provide a scientific explanation to his crush-driven theory. “It’s just an extension of our little music experiment. Some stuff that will help you remember me.”
“And why exactly do you want me to remember you?” Eddie does the same lip biting thing from before. He bites harder, and the color stays white even longer this time.
Steve involuntarily glances down at Eddie’s arm, giving himself away.
“Oh.” Eddie stops biting his lip, swiftly lifts the blankets over his arms. Hiding what Steve already knows is there. “Look… that’s just -”
“You don’t have to explain yourself, really.”
Eddie looks down, nodding in agreement. “Right. But it’s not-”
“Eddie.” Steve places a firm hand on Eddie’s shoulder because he can’t. He can’t listen to whatever Eddie is about to confirm or deny. “It’s okay. I mean it.”
He’s not ready for it, for whatever barricade that’s between them to come crashing down. Steve didn’t bring the proper tools to shield himself from raw emotions or desperate declarations of true feelings. And from the way Eddie goes breathless and tense under Steve’s shoulder-grip, he doesn’t think Eddie has the proper tools for that either.
“So you uh…” Eddie peers down at Steve’s hand. Catches a glimpse then abruptly looks away again. “Do you want me to listen now or…”
God no. Steve releases his grip at that thought. “Wait till I leave.” 
“Got it.”
The rest of the visit goes both fairly smoothly. There are only a few lingering particles of awkward tension left behind. It doesn’t bother Steve, not necessarily. The whole day has been kind of all over the place, just like Eddie’s Literary Behavioral Scale. So this uneasy atmosphere is to be expected.
They talk about movies while Steve packs up his things to leave. Eddie asks about all the new movies that have come out since he’s been in the hospital. Steve tells him to make a list of the ones he’s interested in seeing. Tells him that they’ll have a marathon at his place once they’re released to vhs. Eddie says he knows a guy that sells bootlegs before the vhs release date, but Steve shoots that idea down so fucking fast.
It’s not their usual banter, but that’s okay. At least they're talking. Getting along. Tolerating one another at a lukewarm temperature again.
“Steve?”
“Yeah?” Steve is met with the most anxiety-ridden face. Eddie’s whole forehead is covered in wrinkles, like that one fancy dog breed that his next-door neighbor used to have. There’s no shimmer in Eddie’s eyes, no disco balls. It’s all just dull. Fearful.
“Sorry if the arm thing made you...” Eddie trips over his words. He pinches the skin between his eyes, makes his even more forehead wrinkles. “I don’t know what’s the word I’m looking for.. Uncomfortable, I guess.”
“Don’t worry. It didn’t.” It made Steve a lot of other things: gutted, determined, confused, sulky, smitten. But no. Worried did not make Steve’s grocery list of Feelings.
“Don’t forget to tell Sam about the batteries on your way out.”
Eddie remembers bitching about the batteries.
Yeah, Steve’s memory isn’t the faulty one here. Even so, Steve reassures him:
“I won’t forget, Eds.”
Day 56:
Wayne had a couple days off from work and took over Steve’s Wednesday and Thursday shifts in the hospital. It’s probably for the best - especially since Steve decided to do the most high school shit ever, and gift Eddie a fucking bouquet in the form of radio hits and plastic.
He’s breaking out from the stress, just marinating on what Eddie’s thoughts might be of the mixtape. It can’t be good. None of the songs are his typical riffs of eternal damnation or whatever. But it certainly sounds like Steve Harrington in a Speaker. So it better help him picture Steve dressed in the tackiest, most burnable sweaters imaginable, goddamnit.
But like, why is he breaking out from thinking about Eddie Munson? Absurd. All of it. The feelings and the acne. His weird little crush is making him regress into adolescent woes and it’s pissing him off.
After popping the zit and crossing his fingers that it’s not outrageously noticeable, Steve sucks in a deep breath, and heads into Eddie’s hospital room.
“There’s my favorite Material Girl.” Eddie lowers the headphones, smiles bonus-level wide.
Steve’s gulps. His face feels like a fucking toaster. “I take it you listened to the tape?”
“I didn’t just listen to the tape.” Eddie picks up the Walkman and smacks it against the side of his head. “I practically absorbed that bubblegum bullshit. Think some of it is still stuck in my teeth.”
Steve plays along, hoping that his face will return to its usual complexion. “You should see a dentist about that.”
“With what insurance?”
“That’s fair.” Steve slides his hands into his jean pockets. He’s so rigid. “So?”
“So?”
“Final conclusion?”
“Oh, I hated it.” Eddie says bluntly. “In a very stick-that-syringe-in-my-neck kind of way.”
“Shocker.” Steve actually expected a meaner response than that.
“Why did you put so many songs on there that use Girl in the title?”
“Hey - it’s not my fault that all of the rich poster child songs are about women.” Steve gets defensive about that one. Honestly, it’s true. There needs to be more music about wealthy guys with genetically flawless hair. Somebody needs to get on that shit so Steve can have more songs that apply to him.
“Whatever you say, man.” 
“So did it…” Steve is still standing. Hovering a bit. “Did it help?”
Eddie sticks out both of his arms, flipping to reveal his forearms to Steve.
They’re blank, besides the usual tattoos and contusions. They’re as blank as Eddie’s arms can be at the moment. No more Steve Cheat Sheet to be found.
Steve exhales all of his relief. “And you remember me?”
“Remembering you was never the problem, Steve.”
“It wasn’t?”
Eddie shakes his head. “But if I ever allowed myself to forget, I…” He taps rapidly over the Walkman. Steve’s Walkman. “I just didn’t wanna risk starting over.”
“Oh.”
“With you.”
The metaphorical arrow, the one Steve has alway seen on department store Valentines Day cards, goes straight through his chest. Eddie aims the words with you directly for Steve’s heart. Punctures that wall he built up after Nancy Wheeler.
The monitor connected to Eddie is beeping faster again. It’s not like that day Eddie was writhing in pain. No, it’s a different tempo.
It sounds like his nerves are conducting the pattern. He’s nervous. Steve is making him nervous.
Or Steve’s lack of response is making him nervous.
But how does Steve respond? Is this Eddie giving him permission to flirt back again? To keep driving down the detour of attraction, take the scenic route?
Eddie’s heart monitor is screaming, ‘say something, Steve.’
But Steve’s archive of failed relationships is screaming, back, ‘don’t fuck this up, dickhead.’
Steve tries to meet the two in the middle. Say something inviting yet keep it simple.
“So… do you wanna make fun of the shitty soap operas together?” 
Steve puts a little emphasis on the together part, hoping it’ll tame the monitor. Make the tones evenly paced. He lets his hand tap once against Eddie’s arm. Right over his newly blank wrist. So clean. No more scribbles.
“I don’t know, I’ll have to check my schedule.” Eddie teases with his words, sure. But his hand lifts up. Tapping Steve back. Twice. “I’m a very busy man, you see.”
Steve shoves him away, laughing as he does it. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You’re not wrong.”
His monitor is ballad again.
One of Eddie’s (many) doctors walks into the room during their third hour of mocking the Home Shopping Network. Eddie has developed an elaborate backstory that they’re all cyborgs who are taking civilian money to grow their army of killer robots. Steve is surprisingly on board with this theory after the second hour. Some red headed lady twitches her eyes way too much to be human.
The doctor runs a few tests, looks over Eddie’s chart, the typical procedure. However, at the end of the visit, he decides to put Eddie on a new medication for his headaches. 
Headaches…
Steve flips back to that first day he started visiting Eddie. Finds the note he passive-aggressively took back then:
Eddie has a headache (that’s not a memory thing - he’s just told Steve a thousand times now).
He fans through the other pages as well. At least two-thirds of them mention Eddie complaining about headaches. How did Steve miss this? How could he be so stupid? He was too busy fantasizing about Eddie’s chest tattoos and making shitty mixtapes, that he glossed over something so significant.
Dustin wouldn’t have missed this. Robin wouldn’t have missed this. Nancy definitely wouldn’t have missed this - hell, she would’ve already cracked the Case of the Missing Memories by now. 
Steve is the wrong man for this job. Not enough brainpower to fix a broken brain.
“Uh oh.” Eddie says. “Where you’d go, Harrington?”
Steve glances up to see Eddie pointing his finger at Steve’s head. “Just.. thinking.”
“Share with the class, please.”
Steve struggles to make his voice sound causal about this. “I should’ve known about the headaches. Paid better attention.”
“Are you joking?” Eddie asks. “Because if you are, we need to work on your delivery.”
“Not joking, no.”
Eddie’s tone is mildly annoyed, still gentle though. “Stevie… that guy gets paid a shitload of money to figure out my problems. Truly - the reason there’s no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is because it’s going straight into that guy’s pocket.”
Steve snorts. It’s even funnier to visualize because the doctor is kind of short.
“What I’m saying is, it’s his job to have a big brain.” Eddie’s eye contact is sharp. Broken bottle to his neck sharp. “And your job is to be my eye candy. Sit there and look cute while I try to not hack up my dinner.”
Steve’s hearing went crackly at all of the compliments. “Eye candy, huh?”
“Pretty much.”
Steve no longer has an excuse not to flirt back. Eddie has his mixtape; his arms are bare. He’s obviously encouraging it, even with the knowledge that Steve is a spoiled brat. He likes Steve, not just the good stuff. Eddie is still willing to pursue this even with Steve’s bad qualities.
So fuck it. Steve is gonna delve into his stockpile of pickup lines. He’s gonna rummage around his hoard of provocative catchprashes. Be the horny pack rat that he was born to be.
“Is the sitting part of my job description mandatory?” Steve leans forward, elbows resting on his knees.
“Oh, I’m very lenient on that detail.” Eddie’s voice drops lower. “The cute part… not so much.”
“So you’re only keeping me around for what? My great hair? My symmetrical bone structure? My biceps, maybe?”
“Definitely not your humility, that’s for damn sure.”
They share a smile as Steve gets up, inches closer to Eddie’s bed. He reaches out and pinches the sleeve of Eddie’s hospital gown between his fingers. He cautiously rubs it over a few times, waiting to see Eddie’s reaction to this droplet of affection.
Eddie catches Steve’s wrist with his other hand. Mirrors the rubbing motion Steve set in place with the material.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
Steve nudges Eddie lightly. “Is this okay?”
And before he can even get a response back, Eddie’s face starts turning grayish-green. 
This happens. Eddie throws up biweekly, so it’s not a big deal at all. It’s just that Steve is usually not laying on the moves when Eddie is about to blow chunks. Honestly, it knocks Steve’s astronomical ego down a few notches.
He probably deserves it.
Eddie is really sick. He pukes three more times, and he starts running a fever after the second time. He’s all clammy and curled into a pillow, clutching it with shaky fingers.
It’s all side effects from the new medication apparently. Yeah, Eddie’s head is no longer splitting open, but his body is rejecting all of the cardboard hospital food.
Steve keeps an eye on him, not that he can do much about it. He gets a styrofoam cup of ice chips so Eddie can chew on it whenever his temperature spikes. He wipes the sweat off Eddie’s temples because one - it’s a nice gesture, and two - it gives him an excuse to be nearby.
The shivering is driving Steve crazy though. He’s so on edge just watching Eddie like this. Eddie keeps making jokes like ‘at least I’ll remember your stupid worried face in the morning’ or ‘damn, my past better be worth all of this.’ And Steve will chuckle halfheartedly each time.
The heart monitor is all jumpy now. Even, uneven, even, uneven. If Steve focuses on it for too long, it starts to sound like he’s driving by a highway collision. A pileup of beeps and tones.
He gets another cup of cafeteria coffee. Hopes the bitterness and chalky creamer will be enough to muffle his hearing. Steer his mind to an empty exit lane.
“What? No coffee for me?” Eddie is under an extra blanket now.
Steve scoots his chair even closer to Eddie’s bedside. “What’s the point? You’d just puke it all up.” He’s pretty lousy at supportive words, isn’t he?
“Aren’t visiting hours almost over?”
“You trying to get rid of me, Munson?”
“Never. Just figured you needed to catch the bus or whatever.”
Eddie remembers Steve taking the bus.
“Robin finally gave me my car back.” Steve conveniently leaves out how he demanded  for it to be returned to him. “So, I’ll stay until they kick me out… if that’s cool with you.”
He places his non-coffee holding hand over top of Eddie’s open palm. It’s sort of instinctual. Doesn’t give his mind a moment to wonder if this is crossing a line. 
Holding hands in a hospital doesn’t mean romance. It never has. People do it all time, no one bats an eye at them either. It’s just a gesture of helpless support. It’s what people do to signify, ‘I can’t heal you with medicine, but I can warm your under-circulated skin just a little.’
But when Eddie’s fingers curl around his own, Steve’s stomach swells like its romance. It swells with hot air, helium maybe. It swells and stays swollen. Stays thermal and full.
“Looks like I’m gonna have to pay my eye candy overtime.” Eddie’s face rushes all pinkish-red. Almost as if he’s trying to combat his blush with humor, but it’s not working. He’s all the colors now. And with or without them, he’s attractive.
“You don’t pay me at all.”
“You got me there.” Eddie shakes a frizzy curl in front of his cheek. A poor effort to hide his flushed face. “I’m a terrible employer.”
Steve traces the grooves of Eddie’s palm lines. Pretends that they form a railroad track. “The worst.”
Once his fever finally breaks, Eddie falls asleep. His body unfolds, his fingers uncurl. It’s a heavy sleep, one that makes him all languid and soft. Any traces of bones are questionable now.
And even though Steve is about to pass out from exhaustion, he doesn’t move his hand from Eddie’s. He’d rather give up his whole arm than move it.
Sam peaks in just before Steve nods off. She lets in the bright hallway light, not too much though. Not enough to wake Eddie. Honestly, not a lot of things wake Eddie up these days.
“Sorry.” Steve yawns. “I overstayed my welcome.”
She shrugs, checks the fluids in one of Eddie’s IV bags. “You know, you can stay the night, if you’d like.”
“Really?”
“It’s pretty late… you shouldn’t be driving on the highway at this time of night.”
“Won’t I…” Steve reworks the phrase. Tries to be less selfish about it. “Won’t you get in trouble for letting me stay?”
“Oh no.” She winks. “Because I never saw you here.”
Steve smirks. “Got it.”
“But if I did see you here,” She gestures her head to the door on her right. “I would tell you there’s extra pillows in the linen closet over there.”
Sam deserves a fucking raise. Steve would become a goddamn patron of this hospital just to give her more money. Let the godsend of a woman retire early for christ’s sake.
“Thanks, Sam.” Steve whispers.
“Thank you for keeping him company.” She whispers back. “He’s lucky to have someone like you.”
Steve doesn’t know if that’s true, if Eddie is lucky to have him, but he nods anyway. Gives a gentle wave as Sam heads back out of the room.
He sets the pillow next to Eddie’s leg, keeping their hands connected as he dozes off. Steve falls asleep the same way he used to fall asleep in class. All bent over in his chair, one cheek flattened out on the desk. It’s very reminiscent of that.
Only better because he’s with the guy that makes his chest swell, even when he’s being sarcastic or melodramatic. Even when he’s cobwebbed himself into a maze of cords. Even when he’s bitching about batteries and Steve’s vomit-inducing fashion sense.
Steve thinks maybe he likes the undesirable traits of Eddie Munson just as much as the desirable ones.
And once he’s knocked out entirely, the rhythm of his heart matches the beeping monitor hooked up to Eddie’s chest.
Day 57:
It’s been a long time since Steve has had a decent dream. And this dream he’s in right now? It’s fucking luxurious.
He’s at the hair salon, because of course he is - it’s his home away from home. 
His head is reclining back in that giant sink thing. The one that’s like a soup bowl for hair or whatever. The stylist is shampooing his scalp, scrubbing all of those foamy products into his roots. This is Steve’s favorite part of getting his hair done, he always feels blissed out of his mind afterward.
They keep washing it for the whole dream, digging their nails into his head, dunking water over his hair every so often. It’s downright perfection. A dream he could stay stuck in forever. 
The scenery of the dream flickers out, but the sensations linger as he gains consciousness. His squints both of his eyes open, immediately greeted by too much brightness, too much sunlight. Steve shuts them again, soaking up the remnants of his dream. The hair scratching that’s ongoing even though he’s awake.
Awake.
Steve is awake and can still feel all of that salon paradise. His brain finally wakes up enough to realize it isn’t a dream. It’s Eddie’s hands in his hair, combing it thoroughly.
Fuck, it feels so good too. Steve wonders if Eddie is aware of what he’s doing or if he’s also in that suspended place between awake and asleep.
It doesn’t matter, not really. It all feels way too incredible to care about the logistics. Steve nuzzles deeper into the pillow to hide the happy little hums that keep escaping through his mouth. 
Eddie doesn’t stop. He keeps moving his hand around. Twirling strands and releasing them. Ruffling strands and smoothing them. Massaging the pads of his fingers in all the right places. Every bit of it is dreamy. Better than the dream Steve initially believed to be unbeatable.
Being Eddie’s own personal petting zoo is way better. Miles, light years better. Is there any form of measurement longer than lightyears? Because it’s bigger and better than that too.
Eddie tugs a little harder, just once, but once is all it takes to make Steve melt. He open-mouth sighs into the pillow, hoping the fabric mutes the neediness of it. There’s drool on the pillow and it’s unclear if it’s from when he was asleep or if it occurred just from that one hair tug. 
“Steve?” Eddie’s voice still sounds coated in sleep. “Is this weird?”
Steve shakes his head no, still unable to lift his face from the pillow.
“Should I stop?”
Steve shakes his head much faster. Absolutely not. Stopping should be banished from Eddie’s vocabulary. The word ‘stop’ should be homeless as far as Steve is concerned.
Eddie tugs again, more firmly this time. The tug goes straight to Steve’s dick, which yikes. Humiliating. Yeah, it’s morning and this shit happens, but not this kind of boner. Not one brought on by hair salon fantasies and a metalhead with magical fingertips. This can’t be the reality of Steve’s life right now but somehow, it is.
“I think I combed through all of that cake-up hairspray.” Eddie talks as his hand continues to roam around Steve’s scalp. “Feels like cashmere now, so you’re welcome.”
Steve sighs again, pretty sure it’s much more audible this time because Eddie laughs.
“Embarrassing.” Steve mumbles. That’s all he can muster out without becoming a puddle of humiliation.
“The sounds you’re making?”
Steve nods.
“Oh that is not the adjective I would’ve gone with.” Eddie claws his fingers all the way down to Steve’s neck. “Not even close.”
Steve is all hormones now, all slurred speech and thoughtless words. “So good, Eddie.”
“Oh my god.” Eddie whines, sounds breathier than Steve. “You cannot say my name like that when I’m in a tissue-thin gown.”
Steve wants to sneak a peek, see if what Eddie is suggesting holds any truth. He resists, only because he’s trying to sort out his own tent-pitching problems at the moment.
He gradually lifts his head off of the pillow, back cracking as he straightens his spine out after hours of being shaped like fucking tetris piece. It’s the last thing he wants to do because it means Eddie has to take his hand out of Steve’s hair. But as Eddie pulls away, his knuckles brush against Steve’s ear, awakening this newfound urgency to not let this moment fizzle out.
Steve hops up onto the bed, sitting side-saddle next to Eddie. He looks through Eddie’s eyes, the ones that remind him of shimmery dresses and the backseat of his car on prom night. He looks through to find a reason to stop his actions. Stop his need to touch Eddie’s jawline or thumb over his lips. He’s searching for a reason to stop and finding none whatsoever.
“Do you remember me?”
“You’re Steve Harrington.” Eddie kind of stutters as he says it. “Hometown Slut extraordinaire.”
The nerdy bastard is never going to let that one go.
Steve gives a quiet laugh, leaning in to his impulses. He slides his thumb over Eddie’s bottom lip, curving around, mapping invisible outlines. A blueprint for his imagination when they’re apart later. “Am I reading this wrong?”
Eddie’s gaze is glued to Steve’s lips as he shakes his head no.
“Good.”
Steve uses his free hand to lift himself up, get closer. Breathing in the same stale oxygen, sucking up the same early morning courage, existing in the same dizzying climate.
He can feel Eddie exhale softly over his skin when there’s a knock at the door.
Steve has never stood up so fast in his damn life. Gets a head rush that’s so overwhelming that his vision speckles out momentarily. 
It’s Sam. Thank god it’s only Sam. But also, screw god for interrupting what almost happened just now. Not cool, sky man.
“Just a heads up,” she starts, shutting the door behind her. “You have another visitor that just arrived.”
Right. It's the weekend.
Steve and Eddie say it in unison. “Dustin.”
Sam hums in reply. “I can stall him for a couple minutes. Give you time to sneak out the stairs that are tucked in the back hallway.”
“You’re the best.” Steve says. “I’ll be quick.”
She leaves, cracking the door on her way out.
Both of them just look at each other for a moment. There’s no time to even discuss the events that just took place. No time to recover the kiss that is already sneaking out the back hallway stairs.
Steve nervously whistles. “So…”
“I’ll see you Monday?”
“Monday.” 48 hours apart seems insane. “Yeah.”
Steve hurriedly makes his way to the door - refusing his horny impulses the opportunity to kick back in and ruin everything. “See you later, Eds.”
Eddie licks over his bottom lip - the one Steve mapped out with his thumbprint. “Later, sailor.”
Um. What?
Steve’s eyes go large. “What did you just call me?”
“Go.” Eddie flashes the wickedest grin. “We’ll talk all about your ocean of flavor on Monday.”
This can’t be happening. “Ocean of -”
“Get out of here already!”
Steve flings himself out of the room, sprinting down the hall. Does Eddie actually recall Steve working at Starcourt? How can that be possible? Steve doesn’t remember seeing Eddie outside of school ever. 
Plus, they’ve never even talked about his job at Scoops Ahoy. Family Video? Sure, that’s more recent. But Scoops? Steve tries to forget just about everything from his time at that seaside shithole.
Goddamnit, this is confusing. The hair foreplay. The almost-kiss. The nautical nickname. Confusing is an understatement. Steve needs to go back to high school and learn a better word for what this is. Confusing isn’t cutting it anymore.
If Steve can make it till Monday without spiraling into a bucket of nerves, he deserves a fucking trophy.
And a kiss on the lips.
Mostly the second option (although a trophy would be nice too). 
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spinjitsuburst · 3 months
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ramble about ur favs i wanna hear abt ur thoughts -zaptrap
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HAN’S INFODUMPING ABOUT JAY... START!!!!
so like sgdkdhdkdhd I say Jay and Lloyd are my “favorites” but honestly it’s so hard to pick favorites out of this skittles squad like I love EVERY character for a variety of different reasons. I was going to also infodump about Lloyd but then I started talking about Prime Empire and then this post got. Long. So. it's just Jay I may infodump about Lloyd another day especially since I'm very Conduit Brained Rn but yea yea!
this is long so i'm putting most of it under the cut so y'all don't kill me for making a huge long post
I considered putting Zane and Sora on here as well since I’d also consider them my “favs” but like this is already gonna be. A lot of. Infodumping (also i typed THIS part before I even started and decided not to yell about Lloyd because this already got long enough). Maybe I’ll make a separate post for those two hmm hmm much to consider but for now MY (technically) FAVORITE NINJAGO CHARACTER: JAY WALKER
THE SPARKPLUG WHO INVADED MY BRAIN LIKE A PARASITE
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so hey his name is a pun this makes me laugh ridiculously hard every time I remember he is named. After a misdemeanor HSKSHDKFH
Jay is such an interesting case of a character for me because I started out the show not liking him. Which is. Stares at my entire account I think my feelings have changed somewhat
Jay starts out as an asshole I don’t think anyone can disagree with me there (although honestly they’re all assholes in early ninjago they bullied a ten year old and left him dangling several feet off the ground) but over the course of the show you can see him start developing into a much more interesting character. He goes from being so insecure he's faking everything about himself to someone who knows who he is and is so genuine about it
now yea we could argue about whether his character was too uwu-ified post-season 10 but this is the FUN HAN POST SO WE'RE NOT GONNA TALK ABOUT THAT the point is you can SEE the growth that Jay has gone through and I am going to show you that growth through what I call
✨ The Skybound to Prime Empire Effect ✨
I AM SO PASSIONATE ABOUT THE IDEA THAT PRIME EMPIRE WAS WRITTEN TO BE A DIRECT PARALLEL OF SKYBOUND AND WAS CENTERED ON SHOWING HOW THE NINJA ESPECIALLY JAY HAVE GROWN THROUGHOUT THE SEASON
when season 12 rolls around we are at the point in Jay's development where he is CONFIDENT in who he is. He's a fun-loving jokester with the power of lightning and the drive to help people whenever he can. He uses jokes and humor to help alleviate tension and get people through whatever's happening. And when on his own what does he do?
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BECOME AN ENTERTAINER BABEY
i like to think jay's club in prime empire was a safe haven for anyone stuck in the game who figured out hey. we Can't Leave and felt freaked about it. Also Jay would generally try and spread the word that hey something ISN'T RIGHT HERE which would lead people to want to stay with him
(totally plugging my friend's fic but this kind of thing is explored in would you like to enter prime empire by @finn-m-corvex y'all should check it out cool cool)
also the prime empire shorts which i watched all of in the midst of typing this video cuz i love them go watch them please please please jay was publically fighting the red visors which I imagine may have raised some red flags for some players
THIS SOMEHOW TURNED INTO PRIME EMPIRE INFODUMPING LMAO ANYWAYS Jay's confident! He becomes an entertainer because it's who he knows he is! And it's something that will get people hyped and having fun, which is very in-character for Jay to do! He uses those kinds of things to mask the Bad Things going on and get people remembering what's good
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I've talked about this sort of thing before but that's Jay's whole philosophy as early as season 9! Which is a DIRECT contrast to how he views it in season 6, as Nadakhan puts it scarily accurately
"You make jokes to mask the fact that you're afraid"
(i was gonna grab a screenshot for that like i did with the hunted scene but netflix has bloCKED THE ABILITY TO TAKE SCREENSHOTS THE WAY I USED TO and i don't have them already and i'm too lazy to grab them from elsewhere so alas trust me he says it)
making jokes to hide your fear and using humor to remind yourself of what's good and coping with the bad are two VERY different outlooks on it
so I think this outlook is what drives him to make this glamrock persona in the first place - this is a bad situation, one he's in with other civilians, and what better way to keep him and themself safe until the others get there than throwing a big performance at a safe place!
also it's just so gender okay I want to look like Superstar Rockin' Jay so badly
it's also interesting to see his outlook on his parents change over time! In season six he finds out Ed and Edna aren't his birth parents and feels upset about it, not understanding why his birth parents would've abandoned him. In season twelve, that outlook changing is EXACTLY why Jay's able to get through to Unagami
"I was abandoned by my parents, too!... I never understood why, and I never had the chance to even ask. But I always hoped there was a good reason. What if there's a reason?"
(again curse you netflix i wanted SCREENSHOTS whatever whatever)
It's this scene that gets Unagami to calm down long enough for Milton Dyer to get there, and presumably is what stops him from just. Flattening him and Jay like a pancake.
to piggyback off of this i absolutely adore how Unagami and Jay consider each other adopted brothers in that one book I still haven't read and I hope he's in Dragons Rising at some point Unagami is my favorite "villain" (no longer a villain) in the whole show he deserves more screentime
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like this is where i found out about this and it's plagued my mind ever since. i need to read. this book just for them
SO YEA OKAY Prime Empire is "Who is Jay as a Person Post-Skybound" to me also it opens up so many fascinating things about Jay. I rest my case
so backpedaling a little bit. JAY CARES SO MUCH ABOUT HIS PARENTS GUYS IT'S SO SOFT AND I'M sobs
like yea the first episode with Ed and Edna in it has Jay avoiding them like the plague but this gets explained very easily when you remember he was bullied for his home life before he became a ninja. It makes a lot more sense why he wouldn't want them around his new friends, assuming they'd react the same way. Also how was he supposed to know literally all the rest of the groups parents were either dead, presumed dead, or had a toxic relationship with their kid lmao
(Cole calling his mom kills me. Cole's mom is dead. I know they probably just didn't think that far ahead when writing the dialogue but it's so funny mans pretended to call his dead mom to get on Jay for not appreciating his parents iconic behavior)
anyways literally every episode Ed and Edna are central to (except like the one in skybound) Jay stops at nothing to protect his parents and it means the absolute world to me he's so much like them!! They raised an inventive little nerd and he will stop at nothing to make sure they're safe and it's. It's SO IMPORTANT TO ME OKAY
ALSO this is an excuse to clip my favorite piece of dialogue possibly in the entire show. Except Netflix won't let me now. So you just get the text dialogue
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Jay's just fallen from the sky with a messed up eye and is incredibly distraught that all his friends are captured. And his dad just. The woRLD IS FALLING APART AND HE'S EATIN' SOUP-
Ed i love you
anyways
anways anyways this just turned into me rambling about prime empire and then Ed and Edna and a lot of disjointed other stuff but thank you for this opportunity i was going to also ramble about lloyd but i put this post in a word count and
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yea i think that's enough for a tumblr post anyways! If anyone wants any like. More logically thought out and direct thoughts about characters feel free to send me asks this was fun thank u @zaptrap for this opportunity to scream about jay
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Conversation
Achilles: If there's going to be a big dramatic scene, wait until I get back.
Patroclus: Of course. I can't flip this table by myself.
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skrunksthatwunk · 4 months
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so the eikichi-centric kuwabara fic is going well
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explodingstarlight · 1 year
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Thank you for drawing Aro mikey- I kin mikey and im aro, we don't get much rep so thank you!
awww no prob! i’m honestly honored by how many people got a lot of joy from aro Mikey--based on the reblog tags at least haha ( yeah i read all of them :3). from one aspec to another, i totally agree and i will gladly smack all of my faves with the aspec stick <3
bonus Mikey doodle, just for you 💚
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novelconcepts · 4 months
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2023 wrap-up!
In honor of all the art I didn't expect to make this year (cuz BOY was this a rough 12 months), here are some of the pieces I'm proudest of.
shoot a silver bullet (point-blank range) - we love Van Palmer, and we love werewolves, so what's better than combining the two?
i can hear the sirens (but i cannot walk away) - body horror! all the Wilderness-themed body horror! ancient god-girls co-opting teamwork in the most distressing sense of the word!
honey, you’re familiar (like my mirror years ago) - what's better than a show operating in two separate timelines? smashing those timelines together and fixing a few things along the way, of course.
i’m starving, darling (let me put my lips to something) - it's so horny and so bonkers, but let's be real: sapphics turning love into communion via physical consumption is something that can be so personal.
a lifelong love letter - happy wife, happy life. these kids deserve a little kindness in the woods, even if it's a wedding no one else could attend.
wanted my heart (but i gave her my soul) - we love Taissa Turner, and we love vampires. most of all, we love Tai warring with the duality of her nature.
those are my personal faves, but honestly? the fact that I sat down and wrote 28 stories this year, when I thought my brain would never let me write again? a marvel. I'm so proud of everything under this tag.
as an added bonus, I returned to traditional art for the first time in a hot second. I'm so proud of these two, I actually have them framed on my office wall.
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2023 was a wild year--filled with an awful lot of mess and loss--but it brought me back to my greatest love: making things. making gay, gay, gay things. the biggest thanks in the world to Yellowjackets as a show and the entire team behind it for reminding me how much I love stories, art, and lesbians navigating trauma. here's to following that rabbit hole deeper in 2024.
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mooncrvmbs · 2 years
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i cannot be reading about both levi ward and lucas martin within 2 weeks and be expected to act like a normal human being
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emiliosandozsequence · 6 months
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i can't stop thinking about him (anakin skywalker)
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turtletaubwrites · 17 days
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Fic Poll!!
Thank you all so much!! My 1000 followers celebration post is pretty long so I didn't want to reblog it, but here's the link if you'd like to vote on the next fic I write!
Followers Celebration Poll
Here are the options:
Kid ~ Protectiveness + Smut
Sanji ~ Emotional Hurt/Comfort (maybe + Smut because I can't control myself 😅)
Sanji ~ Supernatural AU + Dark Content/Dub-Con + Smut
Misty Eyes 6
Rule #34 Fic
(Lol, please halp. My last fic poll ended on a tie, and this one looks like it might too. I can bring out the dice to break a tie, but my adhd brain just loves it when y'all pick it for me 😭🙏🏼)
I am so grateful for all of you! Thank you for reading my lil words, I'll keep typing away 🙏🏼🥰
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grey-has-rusted · 2 months
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what they don't tell you about life is that it's hard. woe is me
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vael-fire · 1 month
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Weight of the World
Alonza, an Oath of the Ancients paladin, desperately wants to convince Halsin that he deserves all the love in the world. Aka Act 3 bonus romance scenes my brain invented to resolve outstanding character trauma weeee~ Named for BRMC's song "Weight of the World"... because Halsin.
Tags updated with new chapters.
Chapter 1: Let the Master Become the Student
“Did you wait to tell me that you wanted me… because you thought, somehow, you didn’t deserve to be happy while the shadow curse lingered?” -Alonza
"Every straight-laced, tight-assed paladin could benefit from a sweaty, semi-feral bear-man willing to help him unleash his inner freak." - Astarion
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gyuhanniescarat · 8 months
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*cries in multistan writer struggles* luvvies ya girly pop cottage core fairy princess is fr struggling
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rosekasa · 8 months
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following up from My Body Is Being Concerning, today i learned that i am in fact capable of experiencing a panic attack so severe that i faint
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quinloki · 22 days
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*sigh*
A lot of y'all gotta stop treating groups of people like some kind of homogeneous hive mind collective, and not a series of independent and wildly different people who just happen to have one or two things in common.
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mysterywheeze · 2 months
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If you've ever struggled with suicidal ideation, this has likely been a particularly difficult week. It certainly has been for me. I've lost a lot of trust in a lot of people. I hope this post doesn't make anyone lose trust in me.
You need to live. That means you, the person reading this post. I don't know your name or your situation but I know, with the same certainty that I know that the Earth is turning, that you need to live.
I know that it can be hard, crushingly hard. I know what it's like to feel so empty that getting out of bed seems impossible, or so overwhelmed that drastic action seems like the only way out.
It isn't. Death is not the answer. It sure as fuck isn't praxis. Please, please do not let anyone convince you otherwise. If you think that your death will have a net positive effect on the world, I promise you, as someone who has been there before, it won't.
And while I encourage you to do what you can to try and make the world a better place - donate to charity, pick up litter, volunteer your time, write your representatives, et cetera - I want to make it clear that those aren't requirements you need to meet to justify being alive. Your life has value, inherently.
Today things may be terrible. They may stay terrible for a while. But one day, a song will get stuck in your head that makes you feel something again. You'll meet a dog that loves you unconditionally. You'll eat a meal that tastes like it was cooked by an angel. You'll pick up a new hobby, perhaps without even realizing it, and it will bring you some sense of satisfaction. You'll watch a beautiful movie. You'll walk past a beautiful mural. Someone will compliment your outfit, someone will laugh at your joke, someone will tell you they're happy to spend time with you. One day you will wake up early enough to see the sun rise.
It's a cliche to say "it will get better". That's because it's true. It probably won't be a linear upward trend, rarely do things stay better forever, but there will come a time when you'll be glad you stayed alive. I promise.
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