That Is Me As Pitbull For Halloween

Mel•she/her•25

[cloverandstuff]

Nothing brings more people together than when ao3 goes down. We all panic as a family.

[taylorswift]

And, baby, that’s show business for you. New album The Life of a Showgirl. Out October 3  ❤️‍🔥

https://taylor.lnk.to/TSTheLifeofaShowgirl

Album Producers: Max Martin, Shellback and Taylor Swift 📸: Mert Alas & Marcus Piggott

[taylorswift]

Pre-order The Life of a Showgirl: “It’s Frightening” Limited Release Deluxe CD now on my site. Available for 72 hours while supplies last. ‍‍❤️‍🔥 

https://taylor.lnk.to/TSTheLifeofaShowgirl

Album Producers: Max Martin, Shellback and Taylor Swift 📸: Mert Alas & Marcus Piggott

[taylorswift]

Pre-order The Life of a Showgirl: “It’s Rapturous” Limited Release Deluxe CD now on my site. Available for 72 hours while supplies last. ‍‍❤️‍🔥 

https://taylor.lnk.to/TSTheLifeofaShowgirl

Album Producers: Max Martin, Shellback and Taylor Swift 📸: Mert Alas & Marcus Piggott

[taylorswift]

Pre-order The Life of a Showgirl: “It’s Beautiful” Limited Release Deluxe CD now on my site. Available for 72 hours while supplies last. ‍‍❤️‍🔥

https://taylor.lnk.to/TSTheLifeofaShowgirl

Album Producers: Max Martin, Shellback and Taylor Swift 📸: Mert Alas & Marcus Piggott

[pieceuvmind]

This is such an insane picture!! I need it on my wall!!

[pieceuvmind]

Since this is my only public social media I just wanna say.

@taylorswift love you so much!!! Very excited for the new album!

[ballard96]

[tayloralison]

All of the music I’ve ever made... now belongs to me. And all my music videos. All the short films. The album art and photography. The unreleased songs. The memories. The magic. The madness. Every single era. My entire life’s work.

[heraldic-thunderbolt]

I am a huge fan of retiring to my quarters

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

In this economy you'll be lucky to retire to your nickels

[quinnception]

[fairloves]

That's a real fucking legacy... to leave

[taylorswift]

You belong with me. 💚💛💜❤️🩵🖤

Letter on my site :)

[jupitersmusings]

good things will happen 🧿

things that are meant to be will fall into place 🧿

[overlord-fire-bubble]

THIS ONE FUCKING WORKS. REBLOG IT.

[tiny-kt]

this for real fucking works

[scroll-of-thought]

Apparently this one fuckin works, and who am I to argue with the collective agreement of tumblr. Will report back if good things happen.

[steviewashere]

Filling Static in the Dead Air

Rating: General Pairings: Robin & Steve, Steddie, Robin/Original Female Character CW: Robin and Steve Being Assholes To Each Other, Friendship Breakup Tags: Post-Canon, Angst, No Comfort, Bittersweet Ending, Unhappy Ending, Dialogue Heavy, Phone Conversations, Letters, Steve & Robin's Friendship, Time Splitting Up Friendships, Platonic Stobin, Steve Harrington Loves Robin Buckley, Robin Buckley Loves Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart Am I basing this off of experience? Maybe. Is this kinda out of character? Probably. Anyway.

☎️—————☎️ *BEEP*

“Hey, Robbie…it’s…well, it’s Steve. Um, I-I’ve been trying to catch you for a while now…seems we’re missing each other a lot these days, huh? No big deal, I’ve been busy…you’ve been busy. I get it. So. Just wanted to call and say that I…I really hope you have a good day. Think that’s all I say nowadays, but I mean it. Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. And…and I hope that exams go over swimmingly. You’re, like, the smartest person I know—don’t tell Dustin I said that, if you…if you, um, still keep in touch with him—anyway. You’ve got this. You’re gonna do amazing, I know it. Soooo…yeah. Yeah, that’s all. If you need anything from me—or even Eddie—or um…if you just wanna talk to your favorite dingus, I’ll be here. There’s a gap in my schedule, new job on the horizon, hopefully. I’ve got the time for you, that’s all I’m saying. Yeah. I…I think that’s it? Love you, Robbie. Call me soon?”

——— Steve can admit—now that it’s been a couple of years—that when Robin said she was going to college out of state, his heart and stomach dropped out of him to the floor. It was a sort of sixth sense he’s adapted to. This aura, a curdling sick sense, that would sit dormant until the words left somebody’s mouth. “I’m leaving.” That’s all it took. 

Not the kind of leaving when a hangout was over. Not the kind of leaving when the party came to a halt. Not the kind of leaving when the day’s been run through.

No, it was the kind of leaving that meant business trips and a stale home, playdates by himself on his knees in the wood chips, and friends going over yonder from grass fields and tornado sirens.

His brain was kind enough to flip an hourglass distantly for him. Once the sand dwindled from one side, it was over. And that had been approaching a while with Robin. He always knew that it would happen in the aftermath of one of those Upside Down free-for-alls. Just…he didn’t expect it so immediately. When Vecna crumpled into himself like a paper bag, wounds scarred over, and July came rolling on in.

And then 1987 passed.

Followed by 1988.

Now, in the dead winter of 1989, during the big college winter break season, before a whole new decade rolled in, he’s not so sure about this friendship anymore. That’s not to say that it wasn’t a good one. That he didn’t laugh and spill his secrets and have weird proximity sleepovers in his basement—despite having the guest rooms upstairs. No, he loved Robin with every coiled fiber of his soul. To the moon and back. All those cliche things.

She was the only girl that ever mattered in his life nowadays. He dreamed of her. Wept over her. Celebrated with her. They chatted for hours after she lost her virginity, whisper calling while her hook-up (now girlfriend) snored in the background. Robin was the first one to hear about when he was eventually kicked out of his parents’ place, when he hauled ass to a dingy shoebox apartment near a dilapidated McDonald’s that didn’t survive Vecna. When he stirred up forgotten feelings in his chest, he laid star-spread on his bathroom floor, spooning melted ice cream past his lips, sobbing about a boy. And, eventually, when he had Eddie problems? To Robin he went.

He knows that she’s busy. Always is. Between foreign language club meetings, study sessions in her college’s library, and having brunch with the girls…Robin’s not a free bird anymore. She belonged to the college life, to sorority parties where she frenched her girlfriend in a linen closet and managed handstands over kegs. Sometimes, he’d be lucky to get a call at those parties, Robin’s syrup slurred voice and her hideous hiccups like muffled laughter over the speaker. Other times, he just had to hope she made it back to her dorm okay.

It’s partially his fault, too. Been switching rapid between jobs. Family Video to RadioShack to Circle K to Walmart. Then, after that, he fell into his couch with a pink slip in his hand. Too many tardies. Too many late nights where he fought sleep as if it were Billy Hargrove’s racist mouth, but he couldn’t call Robin those nights and he couldn’t curl into Eddie the right way. So. He misses her calls, he wipes his answering machine because it gets too full, he’s between jobs on his sorry fucking couch, and Robin’s too busy nowadays to reach out.

But he keeps trying. Boy, does he keep trying.

——— *BEEP*

“Steve…Stevie…*sniff* hey, um, I’m sorry. Keep missing you, dingus. I miss you like crazy. It’s…this place isn’t right without you. But I spent kind of a lot of money to be here. And I think I’m gonna be in debt until the day I fucking die and—*sniff*—sorry, shit. My new roommate this semester…god, can you believe it’s been a whole semester since you called me? I’ll try and get better on that, swear. Anyway. My new roommate is a colossal bitch, just capital B Bitch. Had, um, th-that nightmare about Scoops? You know the one. Where you…yeah…um…she hates that I cry in my sleep. That I—*sob*—do that, sobbing. And then I try and call you on those nights, but either you aren’t home or you’re busy doing Eddie or something or…or she yells at me for calling you. But…but I swear, Steve, I miss you, too. And if I could, I’d come bother the fuck out of you. Finals went well. January’s being January over here. Snowing like crazy. Anyway. Just called because you did, to say I’m sorry, to just…I was hoping to hear your voice. Make sure that you’re not…I’ll call you, okay? If I don’t…if I don’t, I’m sorry. My schedule’s out of my control most days. Yeah…yeah, I’m sorry.”

——— “You’re gonna burn a hole into that phone if you keep staring at it, Steve.”

He blinks, eyes dry, and looks over to Eddie. Backlit by the bright snow through the windows, hanging up his wet coat by the door, stepping out of his shoes. His cheeks are rosy, blushed by the cold. The soft smile Eddie flashes him makes his chest cave, words caught like thorns in his throat, his already pink waterlines burn fresh.

Taking his silence for what it is, Eddie shuffles through to the living room where Steve is sitting hunched on the couch, and bends down to kiss the top of Steve’s head. His left hand comes up to brush through Steve’s tangled hair, stringy and unwashed. “How long have you been out here, baby?” Eddie asks softly. “Look like a leaf that could fall any moment.”

Steve takes a shaky breath. “Robin called.”

“Oh?” Eddie takes a seat in the armchair diagonal to the couch, mismatched blues they are. “After her voicemail the other day? Or were you listening to it back?”

“No, after. It’s just…we had nothing to talk about.”

“Nothing? You guys have all this time apart, how is there nothing to talk about?”

Shrugging, Steve mumbles, “Don’t know.” He runs a tired hand over his face, through his hair, messing with the knots at the end of it. Can’t even bring himself to look Eddie in the eyes. “Chatted about her school. Her new roommate. The foreign language club she’s got. And then we got to talking about me and…and I had nothing to say. I’m in between jobs, I clean all day because I can’t just lay around and do nothing, I can’t sleep at night…told her about how our neighbors argue. Then, well, then I just talked about you.”

Eddie hums. “It’s okay, you know,” he murmurs, “if you guys can’t find stuff to talk about? That’s okay.”

“Is it? I just”—he sighs—“she’s been my best friend for years. We’ve got nothing to talk about. Like we’re just acquaintances on the bus or something. It’s dumb. It’s so stupid.”

“Honey…” Eddie coos. “Steve, what’s stupid about that? There’s nothing dumb about having a stilted conversation every once in a while.”

“It’s not just once in a while, though, Eds!” he snaps. Affronted with himself, Steve curls tighter, shoulders up to his ears. “Every time, now. When I wanna talk to her, there’s nothing. My life is so…so dull and dumb and…I feel so small compared to her now. Which isn’t fair of me to say, because she’s out there following her dreams…And…” He trails off with another shrug.

Once the room goes completely quiet, Steve pushes himself back, deep into the backrest of the couch. He puts his face in his left hand, pointed away from Eddie, and looks off. Nowhere in particular. No more words to dredge up.

“Steve?”

“I think I’m gonna write a letter. Maybe…maybe the phone’s too easy to forget.”

——— Robbie,

New thing. Letters. It’ll be easier, yeah? Just put what I wanna say out to you.

So. No new calls coming for me about my applications. Think a bunch of firings on my resume has employers turning away. Can’t even use my mom as a reference anymore, kinda lost on that end, I guess. Reached out to Hopper, though. Maybe getting a cop’s reference will look good? They’ll see me come in with Jim Hopper’s signature and number and they’ll think, “That kid must be a goody two shoes,” or something like that, and they’ll want to hire me. You think it’ll work? You know better than I do.

Watched The Apartment finally. It’s a good movie. You know, Fran kinda looks like Vickie. I found you out, Robs. You’ve got a big secret lesbian thing for redheads. Who would’ve thought? Does your current girlfriend look like Fran? I’ve been dying to meet her. I feel bad, I can’t even remember her name right now. I hope she treats you good.

Eddie treats me good. Made spaghetti last night for me, meatballs and everything. He burnt the hell out of the corn I bought, though. Ended up with just spaghetti, some beer, and a couple pieces of garlic bread. I’ll make a chef out of him one day. Though, gotta admit, I feel bad somedays. He goes out and works all day, brings home most of the money, and then also cooks sometimes. I try and keep up with him. Do some chores or something. You know, so I don’t look like a bad partner.

Anyway. There isn’t much else to say, really. Just hope you get this. Maybe you’ll take the time to answer?

Your cursive is the only cursive I can read, so. If you do write back, make it pretty for me? I like the way your letters curl.

—Steve

——— There’s been no new mail in weeks. Other than the bills and Eddie’s paychecks. He got one call from the manager of some local, newly built steak restaurant. Got the job as a new waiter, so that’ll be thrilling for him. More customer service.

He gathers the mail that comes in their little mailbox, runs back up the stairs to their apartment, and snuggles next to Eddie on the couch. An arm thrown over his shoulders. Hands passing through envelopes like he can manifest a returning letter.

“Damnit,” he eventually mutters, tossing the envelopes onto the coffee table. Steve leans back, nestled deeper into Eddie’s side, and pouts. “There’s nothing, Eds. What the hell.”

“Give her some time,” Eddie gently says—ever the reasonable one, oddly—“she’s probably still settling into her new semester. Almost a college graduate, babe, not a lot of time on her hands.”

“She could call, you know. Now she’s gonna respond and I’m gonna be too busy with work. This is bullshit.”

Eddie sighs next to him. Heavy and tired. “You’ll find the time, Steve. You always do.”

——— *BEEP*

“I got your letter, Stevie. Listen, I’ve gotta make this call quick, but I just need you to listen. I can’t write back, I’m sorry. My mind’s already scrambled with a million essays and other assignments right now, so letters aren’t really a priority for me. But I’ll call, okay? I missed you this time, but we’ll get it right eventually. I know it. Uhh…yeah. Oh! Yes, my current girlfriend, Rita, she definitely looks like Fran. You got me, dingus, I’ve got a thing for redheads. Anyway. Shoot. Sorry, I gotta go. Rita’s taking me to this new queer place in town. Gonna get drinks! It’ll be awesome. Okay, Stevie, bye. I love you, bye.”

*BEEP*

“Steve…Steeeeveee…I am very drunk right now. And sweaty. So much dancing. *hiccup* Just wanna tell you that you’re a good friend, m’kay? Rita…ooo, Rita ordered nachos. This payphone is crazy sticky. Bye, dingus!”

——— *BEEP*

“I hope you got home safe. Thanks for not answering. [silence] I can’t have you calling in the middle of the night anymore, though. Okay? I love you to pieces, Robs, but seriously. Eds and I were sleeping, we have work today. [disgruntled silence] And if you’ve got homework or whatever, then you should probably stay back at your dorm and do it, right? Instead of getting shitfaced at the bar? I—[*a large sigh*]—Eddie’s trying to tell me I shouldn’t be mad at you. That I should just give you time to reach back. But.

"This is just getting…it’s bullshit, okay? I call you and you don’t answer. You call me, I try to get back within the next day. And that’s what I did the last time you called me. And then…what? I start writing you letters, but you’re too piled up with homework to respond? Oh, but you’re not too busy to get shitfaced on a…Wednesday? A Wednesday, Robin. Wednesday? I know you’ve got class today, should you really be out…Never mind. I’m not your parents. I’m not. I’m just your good friend, Steve. Your good friend from back home who you don’t visit when you’re on break because you don’t have enough time. [silence] Promise me you’ll take some Advil and have a few glasses of water? I’d bring you a bagel or something, but…just take care of yourself, Robin. Please just take care of yourself. I have to go to work. Maybe I’ll get some big tips from boyfriends on late Valentine’s Day dates. Send you flowers or some shit. I love you, Robin. Even when you piss me the fuck off, I love you…Bye, Robs.”

——— “You don’t answer either, Steve.”

“Well good evening to you, too, Rob”—

“Don’t be a bitch. Just because I found the time to go out with my girlfriend doesn’t mean I’m fucking ignoring you like you’re…you’re my spoiled little dog.”

Steve tosses a glance over his shoulder, standing with his back to the front door just as Eddie comes through it. He shields himself, shadowing over the phone with his head lowered. “Robbie, can I call you back, please? I’m about to have dinner with”—

“Oh, so you can have dinner with Eddie? But I can’t have drinks with Rita? Fuck off, Steve. You know that’s a bunch of horseshit, right? I’m supposed to make time for you, but you can’t make time for me when I call”—

“Oh, when you finally call me back—what is it—three days later? Sorry, Robin. Guess I have some double standards that I didn’t know about! Guilty as charged!”

Over the line, he can hear her take a steady, deep breath. He imagines it, her face red with anger, and feels a sick lick of satisfaction deep in his gut. “Don’t be such a little fucking brat, Steve.”

He rolls his eyes so hard it hurts. “Like insulting me is gonna keep me on the phone with you. I’ve got chicken that’s thawed in the fridge right now and it needs to be made tonight. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna make dinner for my boyfriend and I”—

Suddenly, there’s a hand on his shoulder. He jerks in surprise, turning swiftly with the phone in his tight grip. Eddie’s behind him, furrowed eyebrows and eyes narrowed in concern. Steve throws up his free hand as if to signal, ‘What.’ Instead of a huff or an eye roll, Eddie’s soft with him. Petting his hand down his back. “I’ll make dinner,” Eddie whispers, “I want you to figure this out with Robin.”

Steve muffles the phone with his empty hand, pulling it away from his mouth. “She’s being an asshole, Eds. I don’t want to”—

“Baby, I don’t want you guys to lose each other. You two matter to one another. Figure it out…even if you have to argue, figure it out.”

With a pat to his back, Eddie steps away. Steve sighs, relenting—knowing Eddie’s reasonable and right, damnit—and brings the phone back up to his ear. “You still there, Robin?”

“Yup.”

“Listen…Robs…I-I don’t know what to say to make this better, okay? I’m gonna be honest. I don’t know what to do.” He shifts awkwardly on his feet. Eventually, though, within a matter of seconds, he decides to plop down onto the closest couch cushion. Hunched over his knees, pinching between his eyebrows. “I miss your calls, I know that. And I’m sorry, okay? Shit, I’m…I’m really fucking sorry”—his voice wavers, eyes burning despite trying to pinch the waterworks closed—“there’s no excuse. I’m not in college. I’m not, like, busy with my family or anything. I just. I’m just Steve. With his stupid minimum wage job. And I’m really fucking boring now, okay? I get busy with my shifts and I forget to answer. I try to get caught up in Eddie, trying to—shit, you can’t let him know this, okay? I’m gonna drop my voice”—and he does just that—“I get caught up trying to distract myself from…from myself. That doesn’t make sense, I know it doesn’t. And it’s not an excuse. Sometimes, Rob, sometimes”—and here come the blubbering tears…—“I just stand at the phone and wait for you to call me. Then you don’t. All I do is…all I do is work and sleep and wait.

“I miss you so fucking much, Robin. You…it’s so fucking pathetic…you’re my only, like, adult friend other than Eddie. But he’s in his own category, y’know? So. It’s just. Shit. I don’t know what I’m trying to say, Robs. I just miss you. I wait and I miss you.”

For a moment, there’s a steady stream of stilted silence. Then, quiet, Robin breaks with, “I miss you, too. But…Steve, I can’t be your only friend. And…and you’re not my only friend anymore. I know I’ve been shitty with answering the phone, responding to your letters. Things are busy. And I don’t have the time. And when I find time for myself, I’m sorry, but I don’t think of you first anymore. You have to…you have to understand that, Steve.

“Believe me, I try to reach out to you. When I have the time, when I…when I remember, I call you. You aren’t the first person that comes to mind anymore, okay? I have to be honest with you, too. I’m sorry. I can’t say that enough and I also think I’ve said it too much.

“But I’m about to graduate. Rita and I…we’re moving in together once I get my diploma”—

“Will you send me your new address? If you remember?” God, he can’t believe he just said that. He can’t believe he’s been…forgotten. “Maybe I can send you some congratulatory flowers or something?”

She takes a deep breath. Noticeably settling into something.

He sorta hates that he can picture her, shimmying into her spot. Getting comfy. Can imagine her in her dinky pajamas, the same ones she’s had since freshman year of high school. Thinks of her with her makeup freshly washed off, hair neatly brushed, relaxing in her bed. Wonders if she’s reading anything.

But he won’t ask. It doesn’t feel like that kind of conversation.

“I’ll give it to you before I graduate, okay? We’re gonna settle on an apartment before I’m done here. Um…yeah. Yeah…

“I’m sorry for being an asshole, you didn’t deserve that.”

“I’m sorry, too. You didn’t deserve it either. Just, y’know me, I get in my head.”

“Yeah,” she sighs. And it hurts, only a little—like a minor burn from the edge of a frying pan—that she didn’t reassure him. “I know I called, but I’ve gotta go. I have a test in the morning. And I’m ready for bed, so…yeah.”

“Okay…yeah…that’s—I’ve gotta help Eddie with dinner so”—

“What are we gonna do?”

“Hm?”

“…What are we gonna do? I don’t know when I’ll be able to call again. And I know you’re getting busier. I won’t have a break until, maybe, June? I don’t wanna leave you like this…but I can’t promise anything this time and”—

“I don’t know,” Steve softly interrupts. “We’ll figure it out, though, okay?”

There’s a long lull of silence. Longer than any he’s experienced with Robin. Softly, “Okay,” she says. Though, it doesn’t quite reach his ears the right way. It’s not a hopeful sound. It’s…tired and broken and weepy.

He knows that, after this, they won’t hear from each other anymore.

It’s a claw to the chest. A knife in the gut.

If he removes it, he’ll die. If he lets it linger, he’ll die. The way the word breaks in his head, her soft okay in his ear, he’d rather the knife remain. The pain, the blood, the simmering ache.

“Robin?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

A murmur, “I love you, too.”

The phone crackles between them. Those are the last words he hears before the line goes dead. “Bye,” he whispers into the plastic, to nobody on the other side. And with the receiver gripped tight in both hands, nestled between his legs, he lets the burn behind his eyes engulf.

Tears sluggishly worm down his cheeks. Hot and burning.

“Steve?” Eddie softly calls to him. “You okay?”

When he looks in the direction of his name, Eddie is sitting next to him. A hand between his shoulder blades, the other reaching for the phone. Without much thought, Steve is turning into Eddie’s chest, dropping his grip on the receiver.

In one sweeping motion, Eddie brings him in, burying him closer. “I gotcha, baby,” he whispers into Steve’s hair, “I’ve gotcha.”

“I lost her,” he sobs, “lost my best friend.”

With Robin’s words floating through his head, the soft crackle of her raspy voice, that image of her comfy in bed, he breaks. Coughing, gagging, and crying, he breaks against Eddie’s neck.

——— November, 1985

“Steve? Do you think we’re best friends in every universe?”

“Hm…if we aren’t, I’m glad we’re best friends in this one.”

They’re holding hands, sprawled on his mattress, both sweat drenched from Scoops nightmares.

“Me too,” Robin whispers, “I love being your friend.”

“I love being yours,” he matches, “we’ve got each other for life now. No way to get rid of me.”

“Like we’re ever going to be apart.”

“Yeah,” Steve laughs. “No way is that happening. We’re stuck on each other like glue.”

☎️—————☎️

[pieceuvmind]

Me reading this and then immediately thinking of Slip Away by Luke Hemmings!!

[strangersteddierthings]

"You just can't handle the fact that these people aren't falling all over themselves to get your attention for once in your life!" Eddie growls, arms thrown in the air in exasperation.

"I don't care about getting their attention, Eddie!" Steve says once again because it feels like they've been arguing in circles forever when it's really only been about half an hour. Steve wishes he could say that he didn't understand how they got here but he does.

Eddie and his new friends. Friends that don't like Steve and go out of their way to make sure he knows that. Friends that throw snide remarks that Eddie chuckles along with. Friends that make Steve feel unwanted in his own home.

It's infuriating and frustrating and hurtful that Eddie just lets them talk about Steve like that, lets them talk to Steve like that.

"Right, so you've said," Eddie scoffs and rolls his eyes, like Steve's the one being immature.

"Well, since you think I'm fucking lying or something, what do you think this is about?" Steve's says, hands on his hips as he stares down Eddie at the other end of the tiny galley kitchen of their apartment.

Eddie works his jaw, the way Steve's seen him do when he's holding back a comment he thinks is particularly scathing. It's been a while since Steve's been on the receiving end of this.

"Just say it, Eddie! We're never going to end this argument unless you do," Steve goads. If Eddie will just say the thing, they can talk it out. They can work through this. Steve can fix it, but only if Eddie tells him the truth.

"Maybe it's just fucking karma, Steve!" Eddie yells. "Maybe you just can't handle that I have friends who think you're not cool and they aren't going to pretend you are!"

Steve's jaw drops, the infuriating-frustrating-hurt feeling intensifying into what feels like a lead ball in Steve's gut. Karma. Karma? "Karma? Like because I was a self-centered asshole in school that I, what, deserve to be treated like trash by your so-called 'friends'!?" Steve goes as far as to make air quotes around the word friends.

"Yeah, maybe," Eddie says, quick and even like he... like he really believes that.

Like he really believes that this treatment is what Steve deserves.

"This situation is not the same," Steve shouts back.

"Seems the same to me. The group majority against the minority. It's not like you ever stood up for anyone when Hagan was trying to give everyone swirlies, or when Perkins would knock shit out of people's hands and fake laugh an apology. You just can't handle it now that you're the minority."

"That's not the fucking same! I didn't know you in high school!"

"Well, they don't know you, either!"

All the fight drains from Steve at those words. It's like Eddie has flipped the switch in his brain to see what is happening. To see it from Eddie's point of view. Or, if Steve is being kind, the point of view of Eddie's friends who don't know Steve because they refused to get to know him.

"So, what, they're allowed to treat me the way you think I treated you?" Steve asks, voice quiet and matter of fact.

"Yes," Eddie says and then his face pinches as he actually processes what Steve said. "Wait. No. That's not- It's not exactly like that. It's just, like- the guys were saying it was status quo or something."

The guys. Eddie's 'friends'.

It's strange how 'the guys' went from meaning Jeff, Gareth, and Grant to this new group of friends and Jeff, Gareth, and Grant have become The Band. A separate, new category, othering even them from Eddie's new friends.

"I- Are you even hearing yourself right now?" Steve says in disbelief. He can see Eddie getting worked up again, so he barrels on. "I'm not just some jock you don't know. I'm your boyfriend. Your fucking boyfriend, Eddie! If you were my boyfriend in high school, I wouldn't have ever let my friends speak to you the way you let them talk to me!

"And I can't even defend myself because then everything they're saying is fucking true! That I'm a bullshit dumb jock just waiting for a chance to get violent. And I'm not! I'm not a jock anymore. And I'm not dumb! And I'm not bullshit!" Steve's vision gets blurry, and he knows he's crying but he doesn't really register it. The hurt he's feeling is leaving his body and he's just feeling numb now. "Jesus Christ, Eddie, I would never let someone talk to you the way you let your friends talk to me, and about me! Because beyond it just being the goddamn decent thing to do is not let people speak about others like that, but I love you and I can't imagine ever allowing someone to treat you the way your friends treat me. Why do you like them more than you love me!?"

Eddie's face is doing something complicated, like it always does when Steve cries. Like Eddie wants to sooth him but isn't sure how.

And that's all it takes. Something in Steve crumbles but not in the way he wants it to. Steve was hoping that if they talked this out that they could be okay. They could figure out a way forward.

Because here is Eddie's face, showing how much he loves and cares for Steve and wants to help him, but all Steve realizes is that Eddie might love him, but not enough to tell his friends to treat Steve with some basic respect and kindness.

He can't be here anymore. He can't be in this kitchen and see his hurt reflected on Eddie's face. He can't be in this apartment that used to feel so cozy and comforting and now just feels like a prison. He doesn't know if he can even be in this relationship if Eddie doesn't love him the same way as he used it.

How did they get to this point? How did they get to a point where Eddie is just okay with people treating Steve this way? How did Steve let it go this long without addressing it sooner?

When did Eddie decide that the approval of his new friends was more important than his feelings for Steve?

"Steve, I-"

Steve doesn't stick around to hear whatever it is Eddie's going to say. He turns on heel, speed walking to the door where he pauses just long enough to grab his jacket from the coat rack before fleeing the apartment.

-

Inspired by @novacorpsrecruit's fic, It’s lonely at the top. Which has a happy ending, so you should read it.

[pieceuvmind]

Read this for the second time within the hour! Still great!

[jesseepinkman]

taylor sorters!

hewwo swifties.. since our queen miss swift is releasing a new album tonight here are the updated sorters uwu!! @taylorswift​

edit 24/04: since this post is getting so long im editing it so all the sorters are in one clean post! thank you for liking and doing them hehe :)

taylor swift

fearless

fearless (w vault songs)

speak now

speak now (w vault songs)

red

red (w vault songs)

1989

1989 (w vault songs)

reputation

lover

folklore

evermore

midnights

ttpd // anthology // ttpd+anthology 

all songs (updated w/ ttpd: anthology) 

other taylor sorters:

album ranker

folklore/evermore sorter

track 5 sorter

fearless (vault only songs)

speak now (vault only songs)

red (vault only songs)

1989 (vault only songs)

all vault songs (credit to: @taylight13 for the idea<3)

enjoy! 💖

[portland-sunshine]

So, he's gonna win. Nothing can stop that, it seems.

This means that we all, collectively, have a job to do. Namely, get in the fucking way.

They want to fuck with your queer friends? Get in the fucking way.

They want to deport the immigrants in your community? Get in the fucking way.

They want to stop someone from getting an abortion? Get in the fucking way.

The only way we survive this, and all that comes with it, is mass collective action. We fight together, for all of us.

Get in the fucking way.

[stil-lindigo]

John Oliver platforms Palestinian voices as he advocates for voting for Harris.

If you live in a swing state, please properly consider your role in this election. Remember to distrust the polls, the projections - the presidential election will be infuriatingly close. Nothing is set in stone.

Please think about your queer friends and family, your community that includes people of colour, disabled people, poor people, immigrants. Evaluate the true historical value of what a protest vote does - compare it to the two candidates, one of which will be the president at the end of this final stretch.

Your vote matters. Please, treat it like it does.