#IDK if I'll do

[metalhoops]

Steddie Week Day 1: Hunger / Pining / Somebody to Love by Queen

The moon cut through the trees beyond the pines of the stranger’s bedroom. It turned her pale skin silver and her dark hair blue. She wasn’t a stranger. Steve reminded himself. 

She was a girl, named after a month or a flower. Steve couldn’t remember. He’d done all the right things. He’d taken her to the movies, paid for their dinner, despite neither having touched their food and told her she was pretty. She was beautiful but he couldn’t remember a thing about her. 

God, he should’ve been better than this. This was the kind of person he’d been back in high school. He’d been starving for attention and craving attraction, never wanting to be alone. He’d slept with her because he knew it meant he could stay the night. 

He’d done the same thing before Nancy when Tommy and Carol had been busy and he hadn’t wanted to stumble home to the silence of his house. He’d told himself he was better than what he was doing, but he’d done it anyway. 

She hadn’t been looking for a relationship. Steve remembered that distinctly. He was always looking for a relationship. It was a sign that he should’ve called it a night after dinner, kissed her cheek and headed off to save himself the heartache. He knew if he slept with her once, he’d want to do it again. Not because he liked her, but because he liked being wanted. 

He’d sleep with her again if he got the chance. He’d sleep with her until he fell in love with her and that’s when she’d end things. Steve didn’t know how to love half-way and people always knew. He fell in love with the wrong people. 

Hawkins had gone to hell, and he hadn’t wanted to spend another night alone. He could’ve asked Robin to come over, but that would mean admitting something was wrong. He’d wanted to ask Eddie. 

The men had grown closer since Eddie left the hospital, closer than Steve cared to admit. He’d been avoiding Eddie in the same way he’d been avoiding the silence of his home. He had the habit of falling in love with the wrong people and soon the boy would work it out. 

When Steve finally unpicked the mess of feelings he had for Eddie and saw it for what it really was, love, he’d run from it. Not because Eddie was a guy, though Steve would be lying if he’d said that hadn’t surprised him. That hadn’t been what had shaken him. For Steve Harrington, love always ended badly. He wanted Eddie to stick around, so he’d been avoiding him, contradictory as it was. 

The girl slept with the radio on because she couldn’t stand the silence. It was something she and Steve had in common. She’d fallen asleep hours before. He’d been listening to rock ballad after rock ballad, his mood growing ever the more sour because of it. He ground his teeth and clutched the sheets as Freddie Mercury’s lyrics mirrored his internal dialogue. Cheesy as it sounded, all he wanted at that moment was somebody to love. 

His heart in his chest pounded like it did in the last quarter of his championship game or in the moments before he was about to break his swimming PB. He remembered the same feeling washing over him as a child when he heard his father’s footfalls on the steps as he arrived home from an overseas trip. He’d crawl under the bed, count to one hundred and wait for the thunderstorm in his chest to settle. He was having a panic attack. 

Steve leapt out of bed without thinking, shook the girl's shoulder and told her he was leaving. He didn’t hear her response. 

Steve didn’t know how he got to Robin’s house, but he found himself at her door pounding on the knocker despite the late hour, trying to come up with a way to make it up to Mr and Mrs Buckley for waking them up at an ungodly hour. The house remained silent. No one answered the door. 

Shit. Robin and her family were in Michigan for her grandmother’s birthday. Steve knew that. Still, when his life felt like it was going to shit, he went to Robin. He didn’t know what to do without her. 

He wasn’t sure what was wrong with him. Robin was better. If she were there, she’d be able to tell Steve what he was thinking, but she wasn’t. He was alone. He’d have to work it out for himself. 

He sat on the Buckley’s front stoop, pulled his knees to his chest and tried to understand why he felt like someone was crushing his ribs with a hydraulic press. He was overcome with an onslaught of conflicting emotions. Wanting. Shame for wanting. Irritation at the shame. Indignation at the conflicting soup of sensations that rose, fell and mingled within him. He felt like he was going to puke, but nothing happened. More than anything else, he didn’t want to be alone. For once, he didn’t want to be with a stranger, either. 

He pulled himself together for long enough to drive to the trailer park. He cut his headlights at the turnoff and navigated the dirt road to the Munson’s trailer blind. He didn’t hop out of the car. The digital clock let him know it was three in the morning. The lights were still on in the trailer, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to get out of the BMW. He’d been avoiding Eddie. He needed to turn around and go home, but he couldn’t. 

Steve’s shallow breaths fogged the windows of the Beamer, turning the world outside into a haze of light and darkness. He had no idea what he was doing. 

The wrapping of knuckles against the car door made Steve jump so high his knees collided with the steering wheel. Eddie’s blurry visage appeared on the other side of the glass, his hands cupped around his eyes, the facsimile of binoculars as he peered in jokingly at Steve. Something in Steve’s face wiped the smirk from Eddie’s. He opened the driver’s door and crouched back on his haunches so he and Steve were face to face, his wide brown eyes raking over Steve’s body, searching for something in the features. 

“Did something happen?” Eddie asked in place of a ‘hello’. 

Steve wanted to say something, but he couldn’t find the right words, hell he couldn’t find any words. He managed to shake his head and let his vision drop to his lap. 

Eddie moved closer, but Steve pulled back. It was a knee-jerk response he’d built up in their time apart. Don’t let Eddie get too close. Then he’ll never know. Eddie bit his lip and shrugged off his jacket. It wasn’t the same one he’d given Steve months before. That one was past the point of no return, but it felt like a mirrored memory. He held it out to Steve. When the boy gave the fabric a perplexed look Eddie rolled his eyes and whispered. 

“For your modesty, dude. Remember?” Eddie vaguely gestured in Steve’s direction. He realised he hadn’t bothered to get dressed. He sat there in nothing but his underwear. Yeah. Great move, Harrington. 

“You wanna come in?” Eddie asked, backing away, giving Steve his space. 

“Okay,” Steve replied, proud he’d managed to do something other than gawk. He pulled Eddie’s jacket tightly around his body and let himself be led into the Munsons’ living room. 

Steve collapsed on the faded couch, placing one of the cushions in his lap, feeling suddenly aware of his lack of clothes and the chill in the air. At least his breathing was back to normal. That was something. The whole place smelled of cigarettes. Steve inhaled deeply.

Eddie busied himself in the kitchen, grabbing two mugs from Wayne’s collection. Of course, Eddie grabbed the stupid Garfield mug, which Steve knew was his favourite. He gave Steve a new mug each time he was over. Sometimes they’d brandish names of nowhere towns or fast-food chains, and other times it’d be some niche pop culture memorabilia. That night, he placed the ‘My Little Pony’ mug, complete with its baby pink handle and faded rainbow, usually reserved for Dustin, in Steve’s hand. 

He drank deeply. It was hot chocolate. Eddie sat beside him. His body was close, but not close enough to touch. Eddie was warm. 

“You want to talk about it?” Eddie asked, rolling his head across the back of the couch, his eyes never quite meeting Steve’s. 

“Not yet,” Steve reasoned. Not tonight. It wasn’t the night for confessions. He didn’t want to lose Eddie, not yet. 

“You hungry?” Steve hadn’t realised he was until Eddie asked.

“Starving,” He confessed, not looking up to meet Eddie’s gaze. 

The warmth at his side was gone for an instant. Once more there was a rattle from the kitchen. Steve’s fingers absentmindedly traced the mug’s faded rainbow.

“You’re not going to puke are you Stevie? You look a little green around the gills,” Eddie called over his shoulder. Steve shook his head. 

“Are we okay, Steve?” Eddie asked after a moment, his voice hesitant. 

When Steve looked up, Eddie wasn’t looking at him. He was busy digging through the pantry. Maybe he’d needed to ask the question when his back was turned. The former king had never heard the boy sound so small. 

Steve was busy working out how to reply when Eddie ploughed on.

“Because a week ago you just dropped off the edge of the map, dude. I saw you every goddamn day, twice a day, for months, then nothing. And then you show up out of the blue, in the middle of the night, in your underwear, looking like Vecna’s come back for round two. You’re not giving me much to go off here, so I’ve gotta ask. Are we good? Did I do something wrong?” Eddie spoke in a flurry, never turning to face Steve. Nevertheless, Steve saw right through him. He’d screwed things up already, hadn’t he? 

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I did something wrong,” Steve spoke, admitting more than he’d intended. 

Eddie finally turned to face him, a cereal box in one hand and a perplexed look on his face. He looked like he wanted to push for more, but understood Steve was seconds away from turning and running. 

The boy returned to Steve’s side, flopping gracelessly onto the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. He handed Steve the box and watched as the boy eyed it cautiously. 

“I know it’s no breakfast bagel, but we haven’t gone grocery shopping in weeks. It’s the best we’ve got.”

Steve Harrington was used to living his life in a particular way. He’d always had to be put together, well-mannered, and the kind of kid his parents would be proud of. All that to say, Steve had never eaten cereal out of the box with his hands. It felt odd and primal in a way he hadn’t anticipated.  

“How’d you know about the breakfast bagels?” 

He hadn’t eaten breakfast bagels since high school. Without swim training every morning, he had time to cook himself actual food, something more variable than his old faithful breakfast bagel. Maybe Eddie had been talking to Robin. 

“I just... I noticed you sometimes, back in high school. We had a few classes together and you were kind of a big deal, you know, Harrington,” Steve looked down, a knot growing in his stomach. 

He passed the cereal over to Eddie and watched the boy’s hands plunge into the depths of the box. He ate unabashedly, open-mouthed. Steve should’ve found it disgusting. He didn’t. He had it bad. 

“You couldn’t do anything wrong when it comes to you and me. You know that, right?” Eddie asked after a moment, returning to the subject Steve was desperately retreating from. 

“You don’t know what it is yet. If you did...” Steve’s throat seized up. He remembered another night, with Robin in a bathroom stall. The details were fuzzy, hazed over by drugs, but the words came back to him now. Robin’s words in his mouth. Robin’s words, seconds before she came out. Steve had told himself he wasn’t doing that, not tonight, yet here he was. 

“You wouldn’t want to be my friend.” Eddie’s brows drew together, seeming to understand the enormity of the situation. He swallowed thickly, squared off his shoulders and looked Steve dead in the eye.

“Try me,” He breathed. All bravado. Steve noticed a tremble in his voice. 

Now or never. He’d have to rip the damn band-aid off. 

“I came here because I couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to be next to anyone but you,” the words gushed from Steve’s lips. As soon as they were out, he wanted to take them back. 

He didn’t look at Eddie, couldn’t look at him, though he noticed a flurry of movement as his leg bounced up and down rapidly, all nervous energy. It wasn’t as though Steve and Eddie hadn’t slept beside each other before, but this was different. Eddie had to know what Steve meant. When it came to his feelings, he was always so damn transparent. 

“I stopped hanging out with you because I didn’t want you to know...” The words stuck in Steve’s throat. He turned his eyes skyward, wishing for some kind of divine intervention, maybe another apocalypse, anything to stop him from having to admit it. 

“Steve,” Eddie breathed, imploring the boy to look at him through tone alone. Despite his better judgment, Steve did. 

Eddie’s brown eyes were open, his face the picture of sympathy and understanding. Steve didn’t want it. He gritted his teeth and returned his eyes to his hands. 

“Steve... you know I’m gay, right?” Eddie said, his hand appearing on Steve’s knee, giving it a squeeze. He hadn’t, but then again, it wasn’t as big a surprise as it should be. 

“No, but...you know, the last two people I loved didn’t love me back. Even if you do like guys, my track record is pretty shit,” Steve reasoned, then realised what he’d said as Eddie’s hand tightened on his knee. 

“Shit. I didn’t mean that. Well- I did, but... that’s intense. Right? Too intense,” Steve rambled, wondering if Robin was rubbing off on him. He still couldn’t meet Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie’s hand brushed Steve’s cheek, startling the boy and causing him to look over once more. Eddie didn’t look freaked out or disgusted, as Steve had worried he was. He didn’t look pitying either, as Robin had on the floor of the bathroom when he’d confessed to her. If anything, Eddie looked relieved. 

“You know Steve, ‘intense’ is one of my favourite adjectives. You think I dance around on tables because of my quiet and well-adjusted demeanour? If you asked someone to describe me,  the word ‘intense’ is going to come up. Not to mention I’ve been nursing a crush on you since my first go at senior year with your stupid floppy hair and you’re too-tight basketball shorts."

“You never mentioned...” Steve’s voice was drowned out by Eddie’s snort. 

“Of course, I didn’t. I didn’t think there was a chance in hell you liked me back and it was-”

“Intense,” Steve finished with a wry smile. Eddie nodded, too enthusiastically, his face suddenly very close to Steve’s. 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Eddie breathed, pausing for a second to check if it was okay with Steve. 

He couldn’t wait. He surged forward, crushing their lips together. It was intense, just the way they liked it. 

[12neonlit-stage]

you're allowed to discuss and work together, reblog for a higher sample size or something

You have 1 week, good luck!

[retquits]

winter leah!! wife wfie wfie fwife wi

[eternalfrowning]

a kakashi from this afternoon,,

[inkskinned]

okay is she being actually immature or is it just a woman over 30 expressing a human experience you find to be immature.

like yeah. at certain ages... let shit go. im not defending the real immature shit. im not defending the karen you're picturing. i worked in retail i hate those people too. (once somebody got mad at me because she didn't like how our winter window decor was a snowman smoking a pipe. i wish i was joking).

but men at 57 will write books about how 17 year old girls are soooo sexy. they will invent worlds where women have to be naked for "armor reasons." they will write songs that treat women as objects. people rush to defend them. meanwhile a woman at 35 will be like "heartbreak is hard, actually" or "i feel betrayed by a friend" or "i am struggling with something emotionally." immediately people will say stuff like this woman is 35 by the way. by the way this woman is SO OLD to be experiencing this. BY THE WAY.

im 31, almost 32. the other day a poet was blasted online because at her "big age", she had written a poem about feeling unloved. top comment was "this woman is 29 by the way." this woman is too old to still be useful, by the way. she has to behave better . maybe if she was a good wife and mother she could stop existing loudly, and the story could continue on without her. this woman has served her purpose, by the way. she's so cringe, by the way. at 29 - so old! - she still hasn't figured out that her existence should be one of shame.

[aphel1on]

AuDHD is so funny sometimes like what do you mean my hyperfixations/special interests will last for years on end or possibly forever but they will cycle out every month or two with absolutely no transitional period or warning. like i will think about the same topic every day obsessively for 46 days in a row and on the 47th day with no visible cause adhd brain goes "ok! bored of that now" and autism brain goes "dw i got something queued up for ya" and i blast into full blown obsession on some other topic whose mental file folders haven't opened in 9 months. brain's out here treating hyperfixations like a crop rotation. once the dopamine runs out it cycles in another one but once something's in the rotation it never ever leaves. last summer we brought in one from when i was 11. it's so funny to me but frustrating too bc like. i cannot stress enough my inability to predict or control this. or how completely abrupt and random it can be

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

main take aways from Halloween (1978) rewatch:

michael myers is canonically 21??? this bitch should be at the club

*sees tiddies* ***MURDEROUS RAMPAGE NOISES***

that's it that's the movie

outside of the fact that everyone who has sex is murdered by the narrative, this is a surprisingly chill portrayal of female sexuality? these teen girls are horny and actively enjoying Getting It On with their boytoys. no pushy boyfriends sneaking in through their bedroom windows--these ladies are taking the initiative to sneak out and GET SOME. one of them gets laid and then immediately orders her boyfriend to get her a beer. (yes she gets Slashered soon afterward, but so does the boyfriend so honestly, gender equality.) yes the Final Girl is the only one not having sex, but she's not bullied for that, nor are her friends slut shamed except possibly by being murdered by the narrative

actually the only character who is shown being morally condemned on-screen is michael myers. specifically FOR his violent overreaction to other people's sex lives. (people he is spying on). metaphorically, the villain is American Puritanism sticking its judgy nose into other people's business.

aka Michael Myers Is A Republican

but actually the real villain is the doctor. guy's a judgemental, shaming, pathologizing asshole. and he's been in charge of michael's care since he was SIX YEARS OLD? kid never had a chance. i'd go on a killing spree too

also the parents. where are the parents? it's halloween night and all the teenage girls are home babysitting their younger siblings? come to think of it, michael's first victim was his own older sister, whom he killed while she was babysitting him. teen girls are really shouldering a labour burden here. maybe parentification is the true villain

side note: mike commits his first murder wearing a clown costume...which is never referenced again? his 'iconic' costume is a generic mask and wig and jumpsuit, when we coulda had a Killer Clown Michael Myers??? travesty

i like how the Final Girl and her friend casually smoke weed in her car. yeah she's an honor student and her friend is the sheriff's daughter. yeah they smoke weed. so what it's 1978

(to reiterate, mike is 21 and should be at the club. im not saying he shouldn't be rampaging, im saying it's sad that he broke out, tasted freedom for the first time in his life, and immediately snuck back into his childhood home to go rampaging. let's have a remake where he goes to a nightclub and has a few beers. maybe some slutty dancing. then rampage)

oh no he's hot

[phosphorus-noodles]

wait that's so funny.

[wolfythewitch]

i needed to get it out of my system

[wheatormeat]

If there's anything I've felt about ace attorney since playing through the original trilogy, it's how cheated I've felt about the fandom interpretation of it. Y'all were so caught up with your gay boys and your Miles Edgeworths I didn't realize how much of this game was about WOMEN. THE CORE OF ACE ATTORNEY IS IN ITS FEMALE CHARACTERS. From Mia jumpstarting Phoenix and guiding him throughout the whole trilogy even after her death, her presence being the primary connecter of Phoenix and Maya, Maya and Godot, heck even Dahlia and Iris and the whole lot of them. From Franziska's earnest faith and consolation of Miles Edgeworth, even begrudgingly, pulling him out the trauma of his childhood with the face to face confrontation of a bullet wound in the same spot as the man who killed his father. Lana and Ema dragging Phoenix back into the thing he does best. Lana and Ema who's tragic story lies in a pair of sisters ruined by the heinous law system and their unconditional love for each other. Dahlia and Iris with a different version of sisterly tragedy, struggling through generational trauma in separate settings and support systems. The matter of the Fey tradition looming over the entire narrative and all the legal and social terror that comes with it. CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE ACE ATTORNEY WOMEN.

[murkying]

hair indecision

[flushwithdarlings]

viago heckling rook de riva and teia out for blood at the opera

[ditzyblues]

this was scarily in character for Casey and Foot Lieutenant. audio from TTG

[inkskinned]

i wrote an interactive poem for my girlfriend in 3 parts. she said you need to read it.

go here: take only the final quiz or take all 3. i don't mind. it's sad, though. this is a poem about choice. about fate and mental illness and how love fits inside of all of it. this is a poem about a long dark hallway. mostly this is a poem about mango sushi rolls.

good luck. i love you. despite it all, i'm hopeful.

[gomzdrawfr]

PriceGhostWeek Day 5:

Possessive