#sorry if anyone saw this?

[tooquirkytolose]

Actually I love the two throuples in Sense8 because one is Kala in love with her husband Rajan but also kinda cheating on him emotionally (and then sexually) with her boyfriend Wolfgang that she's mentally linked with and then when Rajan finally meets his wife's boyfriend his reaction is

And then Lito,Hernando and Dani doing this

[bigfatbreak]

[quirkyfries]

Somebody tell me about this guy he looks whimsical in a sinister way

[egophiliac]

Your first initial impressions of any Twst character vs your current feelings about them?

honestly, my perception of pretty much every character went through some metamorphosis of "this guy looks like a jerk" to "oh, he's a stupid jerk? now hold on." it's all about that balancing act between a dark brooding asshole and a dark brooding asshole who is also totally ridiculous, and it really does make ALL the difference.

perhaps most ironically, I've mentioned before that I was absolutely not into the Diasomnias at first, because the impression the website gave pre-release was somehow even less favorable than for everyone else and I was mad at Lilia for getting my hopes up for a token girl). and then we got their stories and, well, I kind of just haven't stopped thinking about them since. 🤷

also, I went in thinking that Crowley was going to be. y'know. competent at his job. a helpful guide. a mysterious yet caring mentor figure, a fitting leader for this band of delicate young magic waifs with their fancy little magic outfits and their perfect, perfect hair. I've never been so glad to be wrong.

[bunnyboy-juice]

my lovely mutuals and followers and circle of dykes. i am BEGGING YOU to stop reblogging that "NSAIDS while on spiro damages your liver" post. there have been MANY additions in the comments expanding on the risk factors of mixing these medications (and i HIGHLY recommend looking in the comments. @/boringkate assesses the risk beautifully in there, and many others are in the reblogs expanding on the interactions and risks as well). all those aside - the major risk of mixing NSAIDs and any diuretic (not limited to, but including ibuprofen snd spiro) is RENAL (KIDNEY) PROBLEMS!!! NOT LIVER!!! and the most frequent version ive seen to that post does Not do a good enough job clarifying that "renal function" is related to your kidneys, not your liver. there are some effects that will happen on the liver eventually of course, but the premise of the interactions is wrong in and of itself and this kind of misinformation is kind of dangerous to just take at face value/without curiousity

i encourage you to read the actual drugs.com summary on the interactions between NSAIDs and spiro that keeps being referenced in that post (more on this under the cut). it is a moderate interaction manageable with increased hydration (your kidneys love water!) and, if you're taking spiro under the supervision of a doctor, monitoring of your renal function via blood tests. and i understand feeling betrayed learning there are potential interactions between all NSAIDs and diuretics because these risks are often not clearly communicated by doctors themselves, but in the pharmacy and usually in that packet that comes with your meds that most people are more likely to toss than read - but please do not make sudden rapid changes to your healthcare plans or work yourself into a panic on ever taking a pain med ever again based on that post and PLEASE fact check things you read on the internet before spreading it as Health Facts, even if its just looking up what different words mean to understand more of what you're reading. i also really do encourage y'all to read on how kidneys work and this is a really nice overview

the risk of kidney problems mostly occurs if you are (1) taking regular doses of both medications (2) NOT drinking enough fluids (3) not communicating with your doctor about all the medications you are taking. if you are taking spiro as a treatment provided by a doctor and are worried about kidney problems after that post, by all means talk to them and ask about getting a blood test to check your kidneys function/health!! im not discouraging this!! your doctor likely isnt bringing this up in the first place though because (in my cursory glance over the sources) many of these studies cited even in the drugs.com article "specific" to ibuprofen and spiro are about a variety of diuretics interactions with a variety of NSAIDs. the ones that arent paywalled are also either acute case studies about elderly patients on diuretics (so who Already have kidney problems/elimination issues) who developed heart issues after diuretics treatement or observational studies specifically on men in good health ages 20-38 to specifically look at drug interactions in the body. in the more acute cases, with proper management/alternative medications almost every single case was reversible and resolvable. many of these medications in these papers also are ones I have not heard of or taken, so i did look up every single drug i didnt recognize by name references to confirm my initial assumption that the reason this is labeled a Moderate instead of low risk interaction is because All NSAIDS and diuretics have potential interactions (confirmed also that the major effect is that NSAIDS have the potential to reduce the efficacy of diuretics, which leads to fluid and salt retention, which can lead to other issues - namely heart issues in the most extreme cases) with variable effects based on specific combination of the drugs used, the patients specific health, and the dosage (not just the size of dose, but the timing as well).

as an aside: if you habitually are taking frequent (read: daily/scheduled, not a one off for a headache or other body pains) doses of OTC NSAIDs, Regardless of taking diuretics, you NEED to tell your doctor because even though its available over the counter (at least in the US) it is still a major medication in your life/relevant to your physiochemistry!! OTC medications are often overlooked by doctors and people alike because they are seen as ubiquitous and to many doctors OTC pain meds, like NSAIDS, are assumed be used in acute pain situations where the dosage is minimal/infrequent enough it will likely have little to no long term effect with other medications.

[logray]

zendaya collecting white boys of the month like they’re infinity stones (insp.)

bonus:

[cinnamon-flame]

Today I remembered that I made an flight rising account in 2021 (that I played for only one day and then I gave up cause it seemed too hard) and I logged in today to check it out again. Long story short I found out I had a lot of cash from somewhere apparently so I bought a couple of dragons for fun. As far as I'm concerned all the love is stored in the Aberration

[mossy-aro]

ultimately i think my insistence on aro positivity honestly is as much a political stance as a personal one.

when i say aro positivity is crucial and that i dislike doomer-ist posts that express sentiments like 'I hate being aro so much I wish I was dead instead’ it's not because I don’t think there can and should be a space for negativity and acknowledging self-hate, or the many ways being aromantic can really suck sometimes. i find that to be very important!

that being said. there is smth here about how self-hate posts are sometimes just arophobia that we inflict on ourselves. and when we put that out into the ether it (intentionally or not) can become arophobia that we inflict on other members of the community. i think there absolutely needs to be a place for negativity and the expression of anger and frustration and self loathing even - these are all good things to talk about because these are things that we experience. that being said, it can also be genuinely upsetting and triggering to people to have what is essentially arophobia shown to them and then have that be validated by other aspec people. your personal thoughts can affect your wider community on a level you may not anticipate. and i understand it i truly do! it took me so long to be able to recover from accepting being aroace - it threw my entire world off kilter and made me question everything about my place in the world.

but my insistence on aro joy and positivity is because ultimately i do believe that building is at the core essence of it all. that ultimately discussions and the purpose of community should be about construction, not destruction. and this is both a personal and a political stance. talking about how much you hate yourself and cultivating online discussions/spaces where negativity about aspec identity is the main and only theme is destructive - if that’s where we let the conversation end. these thoughts can and should be used as a vehicle to look for a path forward!

joy and positivity create a space where the focus can become on forging a path forward, on construction, on community building instead of tearing ourselves and others down with negative thoughts. it’s not productive or healthy when it stops at a place of negativity - it becomes actively destructive to the essence of community.

and i do think that this is especially poignant considering the fact that being any kind of queer, but especially aromantic (and/or asexual) means forging a path for yourself and making your own happiness where there is no obvious way forward. our communities exist mostly online (right now, anyway), there is little recognition of our existence in the real world, the effects of amatonormativity are both pervasive and actively dehumanising, and there are legal, economic and social structures in place actively making our lives more difficult. yes that all sucks! it’s good to acknowledge that. we need to in order to change it. but more importantly, that’s not the end. we are still here and our happiness, our future is for us to determine. even if we can’t change the laws or society, loving yourself and understanding aromanticism as a political identity (as well as personal), as a radical worldview, and as a protest against amatonormativity is essential for both community and personal well being. the personal is political.

tldr. i guess my point is that as a community, we should focus on building, improving, and nurturing ourselves and each other (construction) as opposed to destruction. we should recognise aromanticism and asexuality as political identities as well as personal ones and rely on community and self-love in the absence of anything else as a form of protest and political power. destruction (the recognition of everything that is wrong) is essential as a starting point - but where do we go from there? we rebuild.

[myokk]

WHAT IS UP WITH THE HOGWARTS LEGACY FANDOM?????????????

I am so fucking fed up with this fandom & honestly it makes me lose any desire to post anything here anymore.

So many people here look at EVERYTHING as a damn competition and it’s NOT. It should be a place for people to brainrot together, talk about theories, and enjoy seeing what other people draw and write etc. Have I sometimes felt insecure bc I don’t get as many notes as other people?! Yes of course…but I always focus on the connections and the lovely people I’ve met and like talking to bc that’s why I post in the first place. I didn’t spend 4 months posting my fic to 10 kudos and 1 comment with basically no feedback bc I care about popularity😆😆

I’ve never been part of a fandom before this one but honestly everything feels so immature here, especially lately. Is it NORMAL to send hate to people who interpret the characters differently than you?! Or send hate to people who ship something you don’t like???? Is it NORMAL to start a confessions blog that’s for people to vague post about others & give everyone reading it anxiety??? (And NO, it’s not “leveling the playing field” wtf). Is it NORMAL to be so close minded, that you’re always trying to start shit with other people?!!??

It is SO FUCKING EXHAUSTING & honestly I try my hardest to NOT feed into any negativity and I’ve never posted the hate I’ve gotten because quite frankly, it’s ridiculous.

I genuinely love seeing what all of you post and always try to comment when I have the mental energy, because I love having a sense of community and you’re all very talented.

[darkdragon768]

Various doodles of the Dorito Twins.

I just like to play with them like dolls and put them into situations.

[drop-dead-dropout]

I've said it before but I really really really need everyone in the disco elysium fandom to like. look at themselves for a moment and make sure they're not being insanely ridiculously dehumanizing to addicts because I see it way too often. I'm not talking about saying that harry is a bad person, depending on your choices in your playthrough he could absolutely be described as a very shitty person, I'm talking about this weird insistence that harry as an addict/recovering addict/whatever doesn't deserve love or friendship or community because he's just That Bad and he will ALWAYS be That Bad and inflicting him on someone else would be cruel and unusual punishment. like... actually fuck each and every last one of you who says shit like that I'm not joking.

[storytellering]

Torn apart. Inspired by Romeo and Juliet by Sergio Cupido

[hplonesomeart]

@scimagic Uhhh made this because I just think they’re dynamic is neat. Also completely agree with the Puzzle headcanon super fun silly and very on point. As we speak he is clinging for his dear life :))

I really enjoy seeing the illustrated storyline you have unfolding between the two and figured it would be nice to see this motorcycle sequence in motion. So tadaa here it is! In animated form! Now your obligated to make a full length written novel in-depth about their relationship /j

Sincerely though thanks for the creative inspiration and keep on being a swagger artist 👍✨

[bamboozled-distress]

why is sasuke uchihas hair the lovechild of narumitsu oh my GOD LOOK AT THIS SHIT ITS LIKE HES GOT BITH THEIR HAIRSTYLES EHWT THE HELL like he’s got the spiky hair in the back just like pheonix and the yaoi anime bangs in front like edgeworth

this is making me so mad

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the Third Annual Spicy Six Fanworks Challenge hosted by @thefreakandthehair.

Sometimes Dreams Change

Prompt: "There’s no rule against just looking!" | Word Count: 4930 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Lingering Upside Down Trauma, Mentions of Therapy | Tags: Future Fic, Thanksgiving, Old Friends, Reconnecting, Friends to Lovers, Personal Growth, Found Family, Non-Famous Corroded Coffin, Platonic Stobin, Good Uncle Wayne Munson

Also right here on ao3.

"You're staring," Wayne says.

"What?" Eddie asks, but he's still focusing on the action happening across the room. Steve's carving the turkey at the kitchen counter, Robin flitting around, giving what Eddie is sure is unnecessary, and nearly certainly unhelpful, feedback.

"You're staring," Wayne repeats, nudging Eddie in the ribs.

Eddie jerks his head, gaze changing directions.

"There's no rule against just looking!" Eddie snaps, and Wayne just keeps staring at him, unimpressed.

This is stupid. 

Steve Harrington ran into them at the Big Buy, invited them to Thanksgiving dinner, and now Eddie is looking at his handsome ass in a pair of very well tailored khakis and a dark teal sweater, carving a fucking turkey that he cooked himself. This shouldn't work for Eddie, but it is.

He's matured. He's a goddamn man. He looks it, sounds it, and by this house, lives it.

The house is his now, his parents moving onwards and upwards, apparently. Leaving Hawkins for good. Lots of people did, though, after that spring of '86. Eddie being one of the first out the door. But looking around, Steve has remodeled this house into a home, something that looks warm and lived in, unlike it did back when Steve was a teen. It clearly has the fingerprints of Steve and Robin all over it, and it's for the better.

In a world where Eddie is still living out of his duffel bag, and spending his nights in crowded smoky bars, Steve has gone and become a real grown up. Who'd have thought? 

When Eddie thinks of Steve, of Robin, they are still frozen as they were that summer they all spent together healing. 

But that's not the truth of it, not anymore. No, now Steve's carving a turkey. Eddie's not sure he'd even be trusted with a paring knife.

He isn't even sure of the last time he's had an actual turkey for Thanksgiving that didn't come pre-sliced on a sandwich from a gas station. He's definitely never cooked one.

Gareth and Mama Jones are at the table, chit-chatting, and it's just the six of them. Apparently, Robin had demanded a turkey, and the only one they had left was too big for two people, so the invite to Eddie and Wayne ended up being extended to Gareth and his mom, too. 

And here they are. A hodgepodge of pairings that didn't really have anywhere else to be for the holiday.

Eddie hadn't even laid eyes on Steve Harrington since the band fled town, Eddie freshly healed from his wounds after his week in hell. And now they're spending the holiday together. It makes no sense.

The band hasn't made it big, but they've made it work. They play regularly, make enough cash to get by, and that's more than he'd ever expected, honestly. They're serviceable musicians that have gotten more polished with practice and time, but they're not good enough to be stars, that's for damn sure. But the gigs are fun, and pay the bills, at least some of the time, so they've kept at it just because they still love to do it.

Eddie tears his eyes away from Steve before Wayne gives him more shit, and goes to sit next to Gareth, his back to the kitchen so he'll stop gawking.

It's just good to see old friends, that's all.

After dinner, they sit around a catch up, and Eddie has honed in on something that he doesn't like. Not at all.

Getting Wayne alone, he stares him down.

"What?" Wayne drawls.

"Don't what me," Eddie hisses.

Wayne laughs, and Eddie has to nip this in the bud.

"Don't you dare," Eddie says, yanking on Wayne's arm, fingers digging into the plaid sleeve of his shirt.

"What are you on about, kid?" Wayne asks, playing dumb, and Eddie gives him the best version of stink-eye that he can muster.

"That's his mom," Eddie bemoans, and Wayne laughs.

"I'm just being friendly. You're reaching."

Eddie is not reaching. Wayne doesn't sit around and laugh like a loon, but he's damn well been doing it all afternoon. He is not hitting on Mama Jones. That's…that's against the law. Several, probably.

"Don't," Eddie warns.

"You could be brothers," Wayne says, goading Eddie, and Eddie takes the bait. He always does. 

"Stop it. Right now. Or I'm telling."

Wayne laughs, "Telling who? My mother? She's been dead for a while, kid. Sorry about that."

Eddie huffs out an annoyed breath, "I'm gonna go smoke. You mind your own goddamn business, old man. Or I'll tell Gareth, and well, those will be your consequences to deal with."

It's cool outside, not really cold, but definitely breezy. Eddie pulls his jacket tighter to his body. He lights a cigarette, and takes a deep breath, looking over at the winterized pool and the woods beyond.

It's weird being home in Hawkins, and even stranger being at Steve Harrington's house. He's stayed away for nearly a decade, not really ready to face the town that would have been happier to see him strung up in the town square, innocent or not.

"Eddie Munson," Steve says from somewhere behind him, and Eddie jumps, then laughs.

"Steve Harrington," Eddie responds, offering his hand. Steve takes it, giving it a firm shake and it feels weird. They aren't handshake guys. 

"That's me," Steve says, "nice to meet you."

Eddie laughs, at least Steve thinks the handshake was as ridiculous as Eddie does.

"Thanks for inviting us, man. It was really good. I had no idea you could cook a turkey."

Steve smiles, "Well, honestly, me either. I just found a cookbook in the cabinet and winged it. Luckily I didn't burn the house down or anything."

And then Steve laughs. 

Somehow, Steve Harrington at thirty-two is even more gorgeous than he was at twenty. Life is truly unfair. Eddie's not sure how this man isn't married with the half dozen kids that he'd once wanted. But he looks happy, settled. His face seems free of the trauma they once shared, while Eddie feels forever destined to be treading water. 

He wishes he had the secret to that, because out of the blue he'll still have nightmares. Gareth has to wake him up, and reassure him he's fine, that everything's fine, that it's not real.

But it was real. He lived it. 

And it has fucked him up, irreparably.

"Catch me up, tell me everything," Steve says, hand snaking out and stealing his cigarette, taking a long drag. Eddie's body thrums with a want that he hasn't felt in a good long while.

"Don't tell Robin," Steve says with a wink, handing the cigarette back and then looks at Eddie expectantly. Eddie really doesn't have a lot to tell.

"Well, we're on the road. We get gigs, solid work, but it's not like we're gonna break into the mainstream anytime soon. Anytime at all, honestly."

"But you enjoy it? The gigs? The travel?" Steve asks, and isn't that a string of loaded questions.

"Yes," Eddie says, "most of the time."

Steve cocks his head to the side, like a curious dog, "And the other times?"

"It's rough, sometimes. Still. Always." 

"What would it take for you to feel better on the road more often?" Steve asks.

Fuck if Eddie knows. If he did, he'd already be doing it. He just shrugs.

"What kind of support system do you have while you're away from home?"

Eddie doesn't really have a home, but that's a can of worms he's definitely not cracking open.

"Um, Wayne's always a phone call away? And the guys are there," he says, then adds, "Gareth has made it his life's purpose to make sure I'm not alone for longer than five minutes. Makes bathroom time fun, let me tell you."

Then he feels his face flushing. He's rambling. He tried to make it seem like it's a joke, but it's not. Not really. He just doesn't know why he's admitting to any of this. It's like Steve turned on a faucet and now Eddie's leaking out all his private business, full-flow.

"I'm almost never alone. By design," Eddie adds.

That's the cold, honest truth. 

"Why do you think that is?" Steve asks, looking like he expects Eddie to have an answer. Good god, that's a lot of questions, a lot of expectations. 

"What are you, my therapist?" Eddie teases, trying to turn the tide away from seriousness, and Steve laughs, head tossed back, hair flying.

"Well. Not your therapist. But a therapist," he says, and no fucking way. Eddie didn't know that. How did he not know that?

That's one way to fix yourself he supposes.

He grins, leaning closer, leering a little, "You gonna psychoanalyze me? Find out what my damage is?"

Steve doesn't back away, instead he reaches out and cups Eddie's shoulder, squeezing, "Unfortunately, I know what your damage is."

And fuck. He certainly does, at least the biggest, hardest chunk of it. Eddie casts his eyes to the ground.

"But if you want to talk," Steve says, and Eddie is already shaking his head, but Steve keeps going, "off the record, off the books, just me and you. Old friends. Shared experiences. All that. Definitely not as your therapist. That's unethical. But, believe it or not, I've been told I'm a good listener."

He smiles, and it's so warm Eddie wants to word vomit all over him. He won't. But he wants to.

Steve keeps talking, "I'm always here if you want me to be. But that'd be true no matter what I did for a living."

And Eddie nods at that. He knows it's an honest offer, no strings attached. Because he knows Steve Harrington. He's a good dude.

Back on the road, Eddie didn't think he would, but he calls Steve. From motels. From pay phones. And he answers, carving out time to hear about Eddie's day. It must be draining for him to hear people talk all day about their problems, their damage, and then make the time to listen to Eddie do more of the same at least once a week for free.

Eddie tries not to take up his personal time, but Steve is a good listener, as advertised. He gives solid ear, which is probably good since that's his job. But mainly, he just listens and then sounds like he actually cares.

He does care. Eddie knows he does. Steve Harrington has always cared about all of them.

"You're really a therapist to the people of Hawkins?" Eddie asks.

Steve laughs, a snorting thing that sounds delighted, "Absolutely not. No, no, no. I have an office in Muncie. I'm not touching the problems of the people of Hawkins with a ten foot pole. They're a lost cause."

Eddie laughs. He knows that's hyperbole, but still. Yeah. Steve Harrington can't be a therapist in Hawkins. That'd be playing on hard mode, for sure. He knows too much about all of them, and they surely have opinions on him as well. Correct, or not.

"Well, did becoming a therapist help you get rid of all your baggage?" Eddie asks, because he's been curious. Steve seems so upbeat, so happy, that Eddie wants in on the secret.

"No," Steve laughs, "I've still got a few suitcases in the closet. But it has made me accept myself and my history more. But I went to therapy first, and that's what helped me process what we all went through."

"How in the hell did you tell a therapist what we went through without ending up committed in Pennhurst?"

Steve chuckles, "Dr. Owens set it up. He would have for you, too, if you hadn't flown the coop so damn fast."

"I wouldn't have trusted them," Eddie says, and that's the god's honest truth. No way, no how.

"I get it. It was hard. Robin went first. She survived, and so I thought, well, why not? It helped. Then, I wanted to do that for other people, to help them, too. Pay it forward. Whatever you want to call it."

"And that's what you're doing for me? I'm your project?" 

Steve laughs. 

"No, I'm your friend. I'm not your therapist."

He tells Eddie that at least once per call. 

"But I'd help you find one, if you ever want that. Because what I tell you isn't my professional opinion, it's my personal one. I'm not objective. I can't be. Because I was there. Because while I didn't experience the exact same thing as you, I know. I remember. You're not crazy. You're not overreacting. What happened to you, to all of us, sucked. It was unfair. And I'm sorry for the younger versions of us."

Eddie is quiet for a moment. 

"Me too, Steve. Me, too."

Another call, in another city, in another motel room that doesn't feel like home.

"I have sex to fill the holes," Eddie blurts out, totally unprompted. 

Steve cackles in his ear, and even from several states away, Eddie can feel the amusement on his face. Can picture it, clear as day. 

"Well, that is one of the main ways sex happens." 

Eddie laughs, "You're an asshole." 

"You teed me up. That's on you," Steve teases, and it makes Eddie feel better. He prefers that to feeling stripped raw. 

"There's nothing wrong with having an active sex life," Steve says.

"Gross," Eddie teases, then after a long pause, "Most of the time I feel worse after," Eddie admits, and he doesn't know why. 

"Then that could be a concern," Steve says. "Why do you think it can make you feel worse?"

"I want to feel safe. And I'm never gonna get that on the road from random hookups. I want a home to return to. I want to be loved, I think." 

"That's normal, Ed. I want you to have that, too." 

"But I can't meet someone on the road. And I don't want to just go home to Wayne and be a drain. I need space to recharge, not feel obligated to put on my bravest face." 

"Wayne doesn't want your bravest face, he just wants you, as you are."

"I know," and Eddie does know that. But it's easier said than done, "but I can't. He can't know how bad off I am, sometimes. He'd worry."

Steve lets the silence sit, he's gotten good at that, and that's always to Eddie's determent, because Eddie will fill any silence offered up to him.

"Why don't you have a family?" Eddie asks, and then immediately regrets it. It's too blunt, even for old friends.

Steve doesn't seem to miss a beat, though. Eddie guesses that's fair. If Steve can ask probing questions, so can Eddie. Even if he has far less tact about it.

"I mean, I have Robin. She's my family."

"But you didn't get married? Didn't have kids? You really wanted that. That was your dream," Eddie says, because that's something he's always felt sure about. Steve wanted to settle down, and Eddie wanted to fly free. 

"Well," Steve says, "sometimes dreams change. And that's okay."

And that cuts Eddie to the quick, because he damn well knows that's true. He's been feeling like maybe his dream has changed, but he's been tamping it down for months. Years, maybe.

But he can't tell the guys that he dreams of hanging up his guitar. Of going home, wherever home may be. He can't let them down like that. They were there when he needed them the most, and he's determined to be there for them now. 

It's just exhausting, and he hates that he feels that way. It's supposed to be fun.

"Okay, how about this? Come here, then," Steve says, "come home here. Anytime. Lay low, recharge your batteries with me. And Robin. We'll let you be. Let you step away from the music for a day, a weekend, a week, a month at a time. Whatever you need." 

"Steve, I can't just crash your life," Eddie says. 

"You won't. We'd love to have you. I promise to not 'therapize' you," he teases, using Eddie's own words against him, and Eddie imagines he even did the sarcastic air quotes.

"I-"

"You can."

And maybe Eddie will.

Steve opens the door to the guest room, "It has its own bathroom, so you've got your own space. But the whole house is free range. Go where you want. Do what you want. I get home at about six, Robin at seven. We usually eat then, and you're welcome to join us. Or eat before we get here to avoid us, or after we go to bed. Leftovers will be in the fridge. Help yourself."

"Steve, this is-"

"Nothing. We're glad you're here. And if I don't see you before you leave, it's been good to see your face. Twice in one year, now we're talking."

Eddie laughs, and leans forward to rest his forehead on Steve's shoulder, "Thanks, Steve."

"Anytime."

Eddie stays holed up for three days. He hears Steve and Robin, but never sees them, and true to Steve's word, they don't try to draw him out of his room. He sleeps, and writes, and just the sounds of them moving around the house makes him feel not so alone.

On the fourth day, he's sitting at the kitchen counter when Steve walks in, grocery bags in hand.

"It's chicken parm night," Steve says, not making a fuss about seeing him for the first time in days.

"Sounds good."

He eats with them, and he feels so much better, that he regrets it when it's finally time to get back to the band.

After that, the room becomes Eddie's, somehow. He leaves stuff, and comes and goes. Tonight he drops his bags at the door, and immediately barrels over the back of the couch. Steve protects his crotch from a stray knee, but otherwise catches him, laughing.

He's home. 

Somehow, this is his home, even if he's scared to admit that to himself.

They haven't talked about it, have barely even breathed it, but it's the god's honest truth: Steve Harrington is his home.

Steve smooths Eddie's hair back from his forehead and then rests his cheek against Eddie's exposed skin.

"How was the gig?" Steve asks, and Eddie makes a non-committal noise. It was fine, but he's tired and doesn't want to talk. He just wants to lay here.

And Steve lets him do exactly that.

He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knows Steve is rousing him.

"Bed," Steve says, and Eddie reluctantly climbs off of him. Steve has to work tomorrow, but Eddie wasn't done. Life's unfair like that. 

Eddie follows him up the stairs, and down the hall, and detours into his room as Steve keeps walking. 

Eddie brushes his teeth, washes his face, and then lays in the bed staring at the ceiling. 

He can't sleep like this. 

Finally, Eddie gets up, walks down the hall and taps on Steve's door.

"Come in," Steve answers, muffled.

Steve says nothing else, asks no questions for once in his life, just throws back the sheets, an invitation. Eddie takes it, and crawls in his bed, pressing his face into Steve's bare back, arm wrapped around, squeezing him tight. Steve just rests his hand on Eddie's arm, squeezing briefly, before he falls back asleep.

After that, his own bed stays empty. He shows up, crawls in bed with Steve, and neither of them mention it. It is what it is.

Instead, they talk about everything else. Eddie spills his guts, and tells him everything under the cover of night. All his biggest fears, all the pain that still digs at him, down deep.

And Steve listens.

It's becoming a pattern of good days and bad days. He has good days with Steve, and bad days anywhere else. It's unfair to the band, and he doesn't know how to tell them that he's been thinking things they aren't going to like.

"How's Steve?" Gareth asks. 

Eddie nods, non-committal, "Good. The same." 

"Jeff got the new stack of contracts. Five shows a week, all over the country." 

Eddie doesn't wince. Doesn't move a muscle. Nobody told him they planned to hit the circuit that aggressively. 

It's fine. 

"Some weeks six," Gareth adds.

"That's cool," Eddie says, neutral. Cool as a cucumber. 

"Won't have much time off anymore," Gareth says. "Probably won't get to go home for a while."

"At least we'll be making some extra cash," Eddie says, aiming for the bright side. 

"Well, they aren't big offers. But enough to keep us on the road with some beer money to spare." 

Eddie nods, and says nothing. 

Gareth flops down next to him, "All that sounds good to you?" 

"Sure, whatever we've got scheduled is great."

Gareth whips around, grabbing his arms and shaking him, "Goddamnit, Ed! Fight back! Stand up for yourself!" 

Eddie just stares at him. What the fuck is he talking about? This kid is gonna give him whiplash. Figuratively, and literally, if he doesn't stop shaking him.

"Say you want to quit, or take a break, or just see Steve! At least tell me the truth if you won't tell anybody else!" 

Eddie grabs at his hair and pulls. 

Gareth doesn't let go of him, saying, "None of that is true, I was just trying to get you to tell me the truth for once. Since when did you start lying to me? To me." 

"We don't have new contracts?" Eddie asks. 

"No. We all talked. We're taking a break. Stepping back to see if this is still what we want. And you need to do that, too. At home, with Steve, with Wayne, wherever you need to be." 

"I need you," Eddie says. 

"I'll go where you go, if you want me to. Just. We can't keep doing it like this. You look miserable." 

He is miserable.

"I've tried to keep my head in it," Eddie swears, because he has.

"I know that. We all know that. We love you, that's never gonna change." 

And Eddie leans forward, pressing his forehead into Gareth's shoulder. Gareth pets his head, and lets him lean against him, "It's gonna be fine. No matter what."

"Thanks, kid."

When Eddie turns up this time on Steve's doorstep, it's late, and he has extra baggage. 

Gareth looks like he's moving in for good with his luggage and drums, but Steve looks completely unfazed. 

Robin, on the other hand, "Why are you here?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Gareth mumbles, and climbs the stairs.

"And why are there drums? There'll be no drumming in this house!" Robin yells, but Steve seems nonplussed and just keeps guiding them upstairs.

"Pick a room, or hole up in Eddie's. It's got its own bathroom," Steve says, and Eddie feels like that's an engraved invitation for him to keep crashing with Steve. Good. He wants that. 

Everybody is tired, and splits off for the night.

Once in bed, Eddie rolls onto his side, "He went home to surprise Mama Jones, and he's the one that got surprised. Wayne was in his old man boxers on the couch. Gareth may need intensive therapy. Shock therapy. Exposure therapy. Something."

Steve smiles, "Not it."

And Eddie laughs, rolling closer to Steve. He already feels better just being next to him.

He's looking forward to this break. 

The next morning, Eddie's sitting at the kitchen counter doing the crossword. Gareth's still in bed, Robin and Steve are cooking breakfast, bickering, in front of him. He's learned to tune it out for the most part. He's shared rooms in motels with paper thin walls for over a decade. He can ignore anything at this point.

"Ask your boyfriend, I sure as hell don't know," Robin says, and Eddie freezes. Well, he can't ignore that.

"Oh, like he knows," Steve answers, not missing a beat of their banter. 

Are they boyfriends? Did Eddie miss that memo? Holy shit. Does he have a boyfriend he's never even kissed? 

Then his stomach swoops, maybe Steve has a real boyfriend, one Eddie's just never met because he's never here, because he's self-centered and lost in his own—

"Earth to Eddie, I'm talking to you," Robin says, snapping her fingers in Eddie's face. 

Oh. He is the aforementioned boyfriend. 

He laughs, and it sounds shrill to his own ears, "What? I was off in my own world." 

"Well, what else is new?" Robin chides. 

He has a boyfriend, and he's just not sure how.

That night, Eddie is tossing and turning in bed. He can't sleep. Not with this hanging over his head. It's all he's thought about all damn day. Is Steve his boyfriend? Does Steve want to be his boyfriend? Can they fuck? Can they get married?

"What's up?" Steve asks, voice thick with sleep.

"Are we boyfriends?" Eddie asks, blunt and direct. Well, at least he didn't ask him if they could fuck. Small miracles abound.

Steve rolls over at that, "How would you feel about being boyfriends?"

Eddie wants to scream, "Can you, for once, not answer my questions with more questions?!"

Steve reaches out and takes both of Eddie's forearms into his hands, "I love you. In any way you'll let me."

He surges forward and kisses Steve, too hard, too fast, and it's awful. He's awful. Everything about this is awful. Steve deserves better than whatever the fuck this was.

"I'm sorry, goddamn, what the fuck is wrong with me?" Eddie asks, and he hears the blood rushing in his ears. He's embarrassed. 

"Nothing's wrong with you. Robin shouldn't have said that. I don't expect anything from you. No strings are attached here. But, yeah. I feel like whatever we've got going is something, but if you aren't interested—

Eddie cuts him off, "I've been interested since before you knew my name back in school. I just didn't think you would ever be."

"Eddie," Steve says, "I had feelings after everything that happened that spring. I just didn't have time to work through them, or understand them, until you were already gone."

What is Eddie supposed to do with that information? 

Eddie reaches for his hand, and laces their fingers together.

He's such a mess he got into some kind of relationship with Steve without even meaning to, and now he's got to navigate that. He wants to though, he really, really wants to. Even if he's bad at it. Even if he's never had a long-term romantic relationship, ever. 

Maybe he'll be bad at it, maybe he won't. But finally, with the band on hiatus, he'll have the luxury of time to try to do it right. 

And he'll get a second-crack at that kiss if it's the last thing he does.

Six Months Later

Eddie slings his bag over his shoulder, all smiles. Pressing his lips to Steve's. Once, twice, a third time just for good measure, and Steve grins against his lips until Eddie kisses his teeth by accident.

He's leaving home, but he'll be coming back again in just a few days.

"Hold down the fort," he instructs Steve, and Steve salutes him, and then Eddie's out the door.

On stage, he has fun, so much fun, in fact, that he hesitates to leave the bright spotlights at the end of the set. It hasn't been like that in a long, long time. They've gotten some bigger gigs, still nothing life-changing, but an opening act slot that is putting them in a handful of larger venues they've never stepped foot inside until now.

It's pretty goddamn cool.

He's found a balance, somehow, and he knows it's all thanks to Steve's patience.

And when he walks back through the door at home, Steve is wrestling a turkey into a disposable pan. Getting ready to start the days-long thawing process. Eddie watches him put it in the fridge, and then wash his hands.

It's been a year, and Eddie feels like his whole world has changed. One random meeting in the grocery store changed the whole trajectory of his life, he's pretty damn sure.

"I got the dining room table leaf out of the attic," Steve says, "we should have plenty of room for the Williamses and the Goodwins now."

Eddie grins. Their tradition is growing, and he couldn't be happier that more people he loves will all be under one roof for Thanksgiving this year.

"Wayne and Mama Jones are bringing the mashed potatoes," Eddie informs Steve. He'd just talked to Wayne this morning, and the old man was complaining about all the potato peeling in his future.

"Robin would cry and whine if we made her mash that many," Steve says, and Robin yells "Hey!" from the other room, and they just laugh together.

It's going to be a family affair, the whole extended family. Anybody that's in town. Dustin and Claudia. Joyce and Hop. 

Anybody that doesn't want to cook at home, or just wants to be with old friends, are more than welcome. Eddie thinks this is gonna be their tradition now, and he loves it.

"I actually got two turkeys," Steve says, leaning against the kitchen counter, crossing his legs at the ankle as he tosses the dish towel over his shoulder. 

"You sure that's enough?" Eddie asks, teasing.

"Here's to hoping," Steve answers. 

He's home. Steve's here. Robin's here. Gareth's here.

Everybody else that he loves will be here in a few days time. He feels really thankful.

And most importantly, he finally feels very loved.

Notes: Coming in hot with that new couple alert!! Go Wayne and Mama Jones, haha. I couldn't resist. It seemed like such fun, and Gareth would hate it.

When I wrote Take the Money and Run I had to figure out where Hawkins was on the map to me. I'd picked the location of Renner, and I've kind of just kept with that as I've written other things, this included. So, Muncie sits about 26 highway miles southeast of Hawkins, and that seemed like a reasonable place for Steve to commute to work. I wanted Steve in "Harrington House" as I nearly always do, lol, but he could not be a therapist to Hawkins. It was fun to imagine though. Karen Wheeler on his couch talking about Ted? Tommy H. discussing his third divorce? The possibilities were endless, if surely unethical, haha.

For better or worse, if I need a Macguffin for how they got money or help or anything from the government after the events of S4, it's probably gonna be Dr. Owens. And that was true here as well. Thanks, Dr. O. You've been real helpful to me, and the characters! You're a clutch dude, lol.

[reallybadblackoutpoems]

go to sleep (2011) - helen walsh

"slutting myself out for the fnaf movie"