@alwaysurvalentine / alwaysurvalentine.tumblr.com
☕️ what’s the neighborhood saying? 👀😂
Mrs. McGillicuddy was probably the worst offender, but she was far from the first to perpetuate the eternal neighborhood gossip against Perry, Linda, and Lawrence. Everyone on the outside looking in at them had their theories based on how the three of them interacted.
No matter how many times Linda and Lawrence stated Perry was simply a family friend, they were never believed.
After all, all the neighbors had to do was point to Perry and Linda’s flirtations, the way they danced a bit too closely at block parties and local events, the fact that they kissed each other on the cheek when saying hello and goodbye.
One group presumed Linda was stepping out on Lawrence with Perry under his nose. That Lawrence was none-the-wiser to his ‘dear old friend’ fucking his wife while living under the same roof.
Perry wrote those people off.
Many thanks to @dame-zoom-a-lot for the tag! This was interesting to see! I also assumed this was only from 2024 data?
Most hits: bad days were meant to be shared - 1650
Second-most kudos: three strikes and you're out! - 203
Third-most comment threads: tastes like autumn - 3 (This one was interesting because I had a few that had matching numbers, so I counted matching thread counts as one until I got to this one)
Fourth-most bookmarks: tastes like autumn - 13
Fifth-most words: for the first time in my life, I know it's real - 3129
Fewest words: fresh air - 629
Gentle nudges to @adverbally and @steviewashere 💛
Steve will drop lore on Eddie in this ‘everybody knows this, catch up’ kinda way when it painfully clear that everybody absolutely did not know this.
Like, Eddie asks Steve to move his chair so he can slide passed him like three time in the middle of a party at the Byers and is being ignored. Finally, he’s like, “Ground control to Major Asshole. Can you hear me?”
Steve’s only notices him because he kicks his chair in the process and is like, “Oh, sorry, man. Gotta talk on my other side. I lost my hearing on this side.”
Which, great.
Eddie feels like an asshole but he can actually put that to the side because the whole table is just like, “…what? Since when?”
“Um…” Steve says, like. Yeah. This is common knowledge. “Two years ago?”
One time in the middle of the summer, Eddie is ogling the freckles across Steve’s shoulders at a pool party when Steve yawns. Eddie jokingly asks if teaching Robin to drive tired him out that much and Steve’s like, “Nah, I had a seizure this morning. Those tire me out for days. It’s so annoying.”
“Woah,” because Eddie didn’t even know that was something on their radar. Neither did Nancy judging by the whole plate of hotdogs she just dropped on the ground.
Steve causally mentioned that he didn’t have his appendix anymore a couple weeks after they closed the gate officially. Eddie asked when he had the surgery expecting an answer to be when he was a kid, but Steve gives him a weird look like, “Uh, couple weeks ago.”
“A couple - what?” Jonathan sputtered from across the room. “A couple weeks ago, we killed Vecna.”
“Yeahh???” Steve rolled his eyes. “And then I had my appendix taken out. That’s what happens when you’re stabbed.”
“You were stabbed?!?”
“C’mon, man. You were there. Keep up.”
Eddie is shut up mid-sentence by lips against his and, wow. Whoa. Steve Harrington kissing him right now and Eddie should definitely kiss back but, “You like guys? I’ve had a chance this whole time?”
“I’m literally bisexual.”
Because again—obvious, no question—as Steve had watched them all get to their feet after climbing through the gate for the last time, actually—finally—the last fucking time, and his eyes had shifted to the impossible width of the closing-searing crevice that’d just taken off some of Nancy’s curls, it’d grown so razor-thin; as he’d made eye contact with Eddie while avoiding doing the same with Robin which was the best way to make sure they both knew what he was about to do, about to let happen; as Robin screamed and Nancy shouted and the kids started in at a pitch Eddie’d never heard before because no one could imagine a world without Steve Harrington, Jesus fuck, what the hell, even, how can the earth fucking turn without Steve Harrington—but in those moments: again. There was never any question. Eddie had read the truth of loss and apology, and then no-fucking-apology-at-all in Steve’s gaze because Steve Harrington would and was always going to give himself for the rest of them. Always. It’s who he is. It’s who Eddie loves. Even if it fucking kills him.
rating: t ♥️ tags: post-s4/Final Battle, established relationship, steve and his endless self-sacrificing, steve gets stuck in the upside down 🥺, eddie goes after his man come hell and/or high water ⚔️, idiot4idiot, true love, romance, softness, happy ending♥️
for @steddielovemonth day twenty: “For the two of us, home isn't a place. It is a person. And we are finally home.” ― Stephanie Perkins, Anna and the French Kiss
It’s a no-brainer. Like: it’s just a fucking given.
This is literally the only way things could ever have shaken out.
Eddie’s breathless—like, the kind of breathless where his lungs feel close to collapsing, on fire and self-immolating, ready for collapse as the foundations burn through and he can’t get any air, his vision’s tunneling at the edges and getting fuzzy in the middle: he’s frantic and he’s running faster than he thought he was even capable of and he’s not sure how much longer his body’s going to be up for cooperating but it’s not gonna matter either way because this is how it shakes out, this was always how the story went and how ends if need be, because Eddie will kill himself over getting where he’s headed before he lets his body fail him in completing the task at hand:
The only thing that matters.
Because again—obvious, no question—as Steve had watched them all get to their feet after climbing through the gate for the last time, actually—finally—the last fucking time, and his eyes had shifted to the impossible width of the closing-searing crevice that’d just taken off some of Nancy’s curls, it’d grown so razor-thin; as he’d made eye contact with Eddie while avoiding doing the same with Robin which was the best way to make sure they both knew what he was about to do, about to let happen; as Robin screamed and Nancy shouted and the kids started in at a pitch Eddie’d never heard before because no one could imagine a world without Steve Harrington, Jesus fuck, what the hell, even, how can the earth fucking turn without Steve Harrington—but in those moments: again.
There was never any question.
Eddie had read the truth of loss and apology, and then no-fucking-apology-at-all in Steve’s gaze because Steve Harrington would and was always going to give himself for the rest of them. Always.
It’s who he is. It’s who Eddie loves.
Even if it fucking kills him.
The moment the gate had closed, though, and Steve was lost, out of sight, and Robin wailed as much as she screeched over what could be done, because something had to be able to be done—
The moment he couldn’t see Steve anymore, the moment his Stevie was gone: of course Eddie’s heart had fucking stopped.
But from there, the rest of his body took over as his brain maybe died a little without enough oxygen, without a real pulse, without a rhythm pumping any help its way, at least not with any meaning. Because where was no meaning, now that Steve was—
The rest of him knew that, though. Muscle memory: find Steve. Go to Steve. Be with Steve, in all things.
Always.
So when he got where he was going, and felt a violent lurch behind his ribs when he saw the glow still there—barely, but there—his heart didn’t start straight up again, not yet, but that lurch was enough: he knew it was barely a step from suicide, but there wasn’t any question in how he dropped down to the hard-packed ground that’s got worrying crevices in it, now, but nothing too deep—nothing like the tax extracted from their own world in the aftermath of tearing every last vestige of Henry to shreds small enough to grind into dust and burn anyway, just to be sure.
But that’s all peripheral—the world here could be caving in actively upon him, breaking ribs left and right as pieces tumbled and knocked him sideways: no fucking problem.
He knows where he needs to go—it’s farther than it would have been, but if it weren’t farther, then he wouldn’t be here anyway. If Eddie had been able to fit through the gaping apocalyptic maw in the ground he’d started at, electric crimson and terrifying as a rule, then he’d have been able to reach down and draw someone up through it the opposite way, too, and then they, he, Steve—
He runs, now. His body’s still mostly running the show but his heart’s been inspired back to fighting, maybe with the momentum of the fall, the swift landing and the immediate takeoff: he’s on his mission. He’s close. He can feel that he’s close, there’s a fluttery feeling under his ribs because it knows it’s close to things being put back to rights, its meaning and reason to keep pumping after everything, after fucking everything—the hands that didn’t just coax it back to rhythm the first time they ended up here together but demanded, slammed and pressed and broke ribs and left bruises and fought like hell: hands that tended him even at his lowest point, the darkest days, and embraced him when he could have done anything but, held on and hadn’t yet let go—
Eddie’s heart keeps pounding, relentlessly pushing forward, because like fucking hell he’s letting go.
Ever.
The wasteland looks familiar—impossibly given how it’s been distorted by the fight but Eddie knows it, Eddie feels it, the cracking of lightning and the bitter stench of ichor like ozone where it strikes and burns: his heart shivers.
He sees an outline silhouetted when a red bolt splits the sky. He can’t tell if it moves.
His pulse stutters—it will have come back online here for nothing if that outline of everything Eddie values in this world, in every world, doesn’t fucking move.
His body wrenches back the reins and everything in him burns as his feet shrink the distance—and fuck if he doesn’t collapse of his own volition when he gets to his destination, when then silhouette is before him—when it’s more than an outline in the dark.
It’s a body. He falls down upon a body.
there’s wip (active development) and wip (stuck in development hell) and wip (oh you’re not even getting funding for this one)
don't forget wip (fuck the funding i'll cobble it together with cardboard and duct tape and stubbornness, it will see the light of day if it kills me)
wip (i forgot i started this)
you want me to come out of my cage AND be doing just fine?? in this economy???
nothing scarier than being a fan of a fic and then becoming mutuals with the author. like hi shakespeare. big fan of your fake dating au
IN 150 CHARACTERS OR LESS - Nikita Gill
How to Save Your Own Life, Erica Jong
I want to try so many little hobbies. Candle making, soap making, basket weaving, wood carving, book binding, baking, weaving, I want to try them all.
I almost made a post about this the other day (unless i actually did and totally forgot) but there’s so many
I was going to make a list, but then i realized this is a good time to share this book
Making Stuff and Doing things is a whole collection of old punk DIY zines about making and doing just about anything, even things you probably never knew you wanted to do.
Book binding? In there.
Making bowls from old vinyl records? I made a whole ton for my brother’s grad party last year.
Basics of guitar? Making rubber stamps? Silk screening? Composting? Homemade beer, root beer, and wine? Soymilk?? Quill pens??? All in there.
Since it’s more punk, it doesn’t have a ton of the folksy, cottage vibes/hobbies, but it’s all about being resourceful and sustainable, which they both have in common.
If i ever need to do anything I’m not sure of, I double check this book to see if there’s anything in there. It’s one of the only books on diy I’ve ever needed.
You can download the entire book as a PDF in the link above.
anyone else need like. verbal confirmation that someone is your friend. like aaa i cant call you my friend if you haven't confirmed it yet!!! that's rude!!! and it only works in your case of course
