#this boy's closet must be insane

[btr-rewatch]

Kendall Knight + plaid: Big Time Rush season 1

[stinkbeck]

.

[dadbodbuck]

i had a bad day and then @tommystummy started talking about bucktommy arguments and this scenario came up and i latched onto it like a moray eel. please enjoy some raw, unedited tommy kinard angst

Tommy doesn't like talking about it. It being the roughly five years he worked under Captain Gerrard, alongside Howie and Hen, when he was deeply closeted and a major asshole. He can make his excuses, he can try to convey the feeling of looking into someone's eyes and only seeing your father's. He can admit to the humiliating nightmares he used to have of his father storming into the fire station and screaming at him. Neither of those are reason enough to be callous towards people who were being tortured in their own workplace.

Howie and Hen were much quicker to forgive him than Tommy was. In fact, it seemed like it only took one mumbled apology for them to shrug it all off. Water under the bridge, they had said. Just don't do it again.

And God, Tommy never did. After that, after finally taking his sexuality out of the box deep in the animal part of his brain, he told himself he would be different. He expected it to be hard, and on some level it was, but—

Tommy kissed a man for the first time (since high school) forty-eight hours after he was reassigned to the 217, quick and dirty in a bar in West Hollywood. Something in Tommy’s chest clicked into place when he heard the soft, deep moan of a nameless man wearing body glitter. He couldn’t go back even if he wanted to.

Before, he’d been afraid of this exact thing. He’d kept his hands to himself because he knew that his closet wasn’t resealable. It was one-and-done. Gerrard’s boys would have eaten him alive. But Howie and Hen wouldn’t. They didn’t.

It still took him a long time for him to tell them. They didn’t talk often, but they did keep in touch. Tommy owed them so many favors he’d probably be repaying them for the rest of his life, but they seemed more interested in just being his friend. A distant one, but a friend nonetheless.

Distance was fine. Distance was easy. Distance allowed for Tommy to keep his comfortable walls in place, even if he redecorated them a little.

It took him three months to realize how debilitating loneliness was. He was out, now, but without the close, albeit sterile and toxic, friendship of the boy’s club at the 118. Tommy longed for connection. He thrived on it. Something deep, and routine, and constant.

But nobody was volunteering. So Tommy resigned himself to his old hobbies, cars and Muay Thai and basketball, and introduced karaoke trivia to the routine, because he’d always loved singing but never had the guts to do it while he was closeted. It was nice. If anyone noticed Tommy’s near-compulsive schedule of activities, they never mentioned it. The years passed. Howie and Hen grew even more distant. Tommy liked their Facebook posts. He did their favors. He was still lonely, but he successfully put the version of himself he had been on a shelf in the deepest recesses of his brain, never to see the light of day again.

He was a good person now. He was good. He was good despite the skeletons rattling in the closet where his love used to be.

Then, Evan.

No other preamble necessary. Then, Evan. With his broad chest and blue eyes and insane, insane ideas.

Really, was Tommy not supposed to fall in love with him?

Things are great for a while. Idyllic. Peaceful, and exciting, and sweet, and so goddamn sexy, and safe. Tommy feels safe in Evan’s arms.

The problem, of course, is that Evan has this idea that he has to know every part of Tommy. All of him.

“I want to love all of you,” Evan murmurs, as a creeping sense of dread settles in Tommy’s chest, “Even the parts you don’t like.”

Tommy chews on his words, but Evan must sense something is wrong, because he props himself up on an elbow and leans over Tommy, brow scrunched in concern.

“There are parts of me that aren’t worth loving.” Tommy settles on, eventually.

He watches Evan’s heart break in real time, and it does nothing to soothe the growing irritation in his chest.

“I don’t believe that,” Evan frowns, “I think even when you were making mistakes, you were worth loving.”

Tommy huffs a dry, sarcastic laugh. “I beg to differ.”

He doesn’t elaborate. Can’t. Evan doesn’t like this. “Tom, that’s—that’s not how this works. You don’t get to pick and choose which parts of you I’m allowed to love. I don’t care what it is. I love you.”

Tommy isn’t going to win this argument, so he doesn’t even try. Instead, he forces himself to relax, and sighs. “Okay. Sorry, honey.”

He can tell Evan isn’t buying it, by the disbelieving set to his mouth, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he lays back down and presses a gentle kiss to Tommy’s shoulder. It feels a lot like another declaration.

“I love you too,” Tommy says, bringing one of Evan’s hands up to his mouth to kiss his knuckles. Evan revels in physical touch—it’s one of his favorite love languages, although he enjoys pretty much all of them. Mostly, Tommy thinks Evan was just love-starved for a long time.

Tommy is positive beyond doubt that Evan was never like him. It takes little talking to Howie and Maddie to confirm that he’s always presented his heart on a platter, warm and bleeding for whoever wants to carry it. There’s no universe where a callous man like Gerrard would have turned Evan into what Tommy was. Evan has never been a coward.

Tommy hopes that’ll be the end of the argument, but the next day, Evan sits down on the couch and says, “I know talking about your past is painful for you, and I don’t want to force you to tell me anything.”

Tommy senses a conjunction and chooses to remain silent.

“But,” there it is, “I don’t take back what I said.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you again,” Tommy grunts, knowing he’s closing himself off.

“Then let me say it,” Evan presses, “There is nothing in your past that would change how I feel about you.”

“You don’t know that,” Tommy says, through gritted teeth, “You don’t know what I was like to Howie and Hen when they first joined the 118. I said things I shouldn’t have. I let Gerrard and his cronies get away with even worse. I let them get hurt, and I did nothing, because I was a coward.”

Evan looks at him with big, sad eyes. “You were scared.”

“I should have done the right thing anyway,” Tommy argues, “You think Howie and Hen weren’t scared? You think they weren’t terrified? Hen got up in front of everyone and gave us this big speech about how proud she was to be gay, to be black, to be herself. And all I did was stand there with this pit in my stomach. Like if anyone looked over at me they would just know, and then I’d be a pariah. Like her.”

“Tommy,” Evan says, dismayed, “She’s forgiven you so many times over for that. Beating yourself up about it does nothing.”

“It holds me accountable,” Tommy says, “It keeps me from being that person again. I hate the person I was back then. You would have hated him, too.”

“Maybe,” Evan shrugs, like it’s just that easy, “But I try not to hate people. I certainly don’t hate my loved ones for making mistakes. And that’s what you did. Make a mistake. Now, looking back on it, I can see that version of you. That Tommy, who was afraid and in pain. I still love him.”

“Stop!” Tommy snaps, but makes no move to get away from Evan. Evan’s hand stutters, but makes its way to Tommy’s shoulder, thumb rubbing over the joint.

“I love every version of all of my loved ones,” Evan says softly, “I love the version of Bobby who almost drank himself to death. I love the version of Eddie that fought people in the street. I love the version of Chim that punched me. I love the version of Maddie that ran away from me—several times, I might add. I love the version of Hen that almost ended her own marriage when she betrayed Karen’s trust.”

There’s about thirty different stories Tommy wants to explore in there, but Evan doesn’t let him get a word in edgewise. “And I love the version of you that stood by and watched because he was too scared to intervene.”

Evan leans in to plant a tender kiss to Tommy’s cheek. “I love him, and I love the Tommy who was in Iraq, and I love the Tommy who was almost a high school dropout, and I love the Tommy who loved to go hiking after middle school, and I love the Tommy who was late learning how to walk but early learning how to read. It’s not hard. He’s you.”

“I don’t want him to be me,” Tommy confesses, throat tight.

“But he is,” Evan murmurs, soft and soothing in Tommy’s ear, “He’s right here. And he’s doing right by people now. He learned how to be brave. He made amends. Hen and Chim didn’t forgive you because you killed that old version of yourself, they forgave you because you made an effort.”

It’s the first time Tommy’s ever heard it phrased like this, and something about the way Evan says it makes his eyes sting. Evan pulls him into a hug, tucks his face into the crook of his neck, and lets Tommy cry. Rubs his back through it. If Tommy pretends, he could be rubbing the uniform-clad thirty-five year-old firefighter, or the fatigued back of an eighteen-year-old soldier, or the thrifted cotton tee of a middle schooler, or the just-too-tight romper of a toddler. All the Tommies that never got this, all the Tommies that desperately wanted it.

For the first time since his mother died, Tommy is held while he cries, and after nearly thirty years, something in his chest stops aching.

[uglypastels]

Meeting the Parents / e.m.

a/n: I told myself I would write at least one, so here is my little submission for @littlexdeaths Twelve Days of Promptmas. As it's the fifth, this is for the Day Five Prompt, "Meet the parents... with a twist." So, I hope you enjoy! and Happy Holidays!!

word count: 2k

warning: just fluff and laughs, a bit of anxiety, maybe cursing? mention of drinking alcohol.

‘Wha-what are you wearing?’ you put the book you had been so entranced with down at the sight of your boyfriend. Eddie looked down at himself as if he did not know the answer to your question either, which very well might have been the case. You could easily imagine he had been abducted by aliens, his memory wiped as they dressed him up in this concoction and placed him right back down in the room. Poof. None the wiser but the hideous sweater vest adorning his chest. 

‘You don’t like it?’ He looked back up at you, big brown eyes surrounded by wrinkles of worry. 

‘Understatement of the year, babe.’ You suppressed a small laugh. ‘Where did you even get that?’ You were too far away to tell, but the brown-grey vest looked like it smelled of mothballs. It could not have come from anywhere else but a 30-year-old dusty box from a mouldy attic.  

‘It was my uncle’s.’ He scratched the back of his head, which was now far more accessible since he had his hair tied up in a politely loose ponytail. ‘Didn’t have much else to wear…’ 

‘How about literally anything else?’ This time, the smile had the better of you, and you could not help but laugh a little as you got up to inspect your boyfriend’s outfit in more detail. ‘You really don’t need to do all this, Ed.’ 

‘I just want to make a good first impression.’ He sighed, unbuttoning the vest to reveal an even tighter buttoned-up crisp white shirt. Defeated, he took the vest off and handed it over to you. The material was so scratchy you were surprised he had not broken out into hives from irritation… and indeed, it smelled of musty attics. You placed the cursed clothing item to the side, on top of an armchair.

"I think it’s more important that you can breathe," you said, opening the top button of his shirt. For good measure, you opened the next one. It was casual, you thought, nice, but Eddie must have peeked at his reflection in the mirror across the room as his eyes went wide, and he quickly went up to close the gap in his shirt again. 

‘Please, it’s just my parents. A bit of skin won’t kill them.’ You poked the dimple in his cheek. ‘Besides, the tattoos are visible through the shirt anyway, if that’s what you’re worried about, you dork.’ 

‘Shit.’ Eddie cursed out, immediately looking down at his arms where, indeed, the grey ink seeped through the white cotton material. Not a lot, but enough to see that Eddie wasn’t your conventional pretty white boy. If the long rowdy hair and piercings weren’t enough of a hint. ‘I might have a black shirt somewhere–’ You could see the spirals dwindling in his mind, but before he could jump into action and make an even bigger mess of the closet, you pulled his face up to you, holding his cheeks tightly in your hands, letting his lips form into a big pout as he stared at you in bewilderment. 

‘Eddie. It’s ok.’ You had never thought you had made your parents out to be such conservatives. Quite the opposite, you had thought, having told Eddie countless stories of your parents acting insane and totally shameless. But perhaps, compared to what Eddie had grown up with, your white picket fence childhood was still uncharted territory for him. 

You kissed the tip of his nose. ‘They’ll love you. I know it.’ It was already silly that it had taken you so long to meet, but having met in college, your dorms only a few corridors apart, there never was much of a chance for Eddie to come into contact with your family, but now that you had graduated and officially decided that, yes, all that flirting and friendly hookups cuddle nights were perhaps a bit more than “just friends”. So, when the holidays came around, you had come up with the crazy brilliant idea to have dinner. Just a little get-together with your parents and boyfriend a few days before the big ol’ X-day. Then, maybe, if things went well, you could bring him over for the actual holiday and let him meet the rest of the gang… Although if this was how Eddie was acting over just your parents… he would probably go into cardiac arrest trying to figure out what to wear for your grandma. 

‘Count to five,’ you suggested, ‘take a few deep breaths, then count to five again.’ You watched Eddie do as you told him, his minty freshly-brushed breath softly hitting your skin as he exhaled. ‘It’s gonna be alright,’ you reassured him for a final time. ‘Just make sure to take the wine out of the fridge before you go.’ 

— 

‘I can’t believe I forgot the fucking wine.’ Eddie looked like he was on the verge of passing out, his knuckles turning white from how tightly he was holding the steering wheel. ‘Maybe I can still go home and get it. Or is there like a store nearby? I got some cash–’ 

‘It’s not a big deal.’ You said for the fifth time, already having regretted ever getting the idea of gifting your parents a bottle of wine, giving Eddie one more thing to worry about. You kept sure to keep an eye on him for the rest of the drive there, up until he put the car in park and pulled the key out of the ignition at your parent’s driveway. Usually, it would have been your boyfriend to rush out of the car to open the door for you, but this time you took it upon yourself, feeling a sense that if he were to stand up by himself, his legs would not remain that stable for much longer. With each step you took, you began regretting the entire ordeal. Then again, if Eddie were to pass out on your parents’ porch, the panic of rushing him to a hospital would busy their minds too much to find any points of critique on the guy… not that they would in the first place! You were sure your parents would love him. They got to. Eddie was the sweetest guy you had ever met, let alone brought home [of which, there might have been a few, but he did not need to know that.] 

You were so busy keeping him up straight that you did not even have the time to take in the view of your former front yard. Memories of snow days, Christmas Eves, and New Year's nights spent watching the fireworks. The usually green yard was covered in a thick layer of freshly fallen snow, only disturbed by the protrusions of large lit-up decorations standing around. The snowman waved passersby merrily along with his flock of plastic reindeer, but it was nothing compared to the golden glow of lights that covered nearly every inch of the house. With the wreath across the door, it all looked like an image straight out of a picture book. 

You gave Eddie’s hand a tight squeeze before ringing the doorbell. The footsteps inside had almost emerged before you had pressed your finger on the button, but you could hear them scurrying in excitement across the hallway. 

‘They’ll love you,’ you quickly told Eddie before the door opened to reveal your squealing mother. 

‘Aaahh! Come in, come in. You must be freezing.’ She ushered you both inside, red frilly apron covering a nice sweater. ‘Your dad is just getting some beers from the garage, he’ll be back in a second– and you,’ she turned with even more excitement towards Eddie, who seemed to have gotten a case of horrible lockjaw the way his smile tensed. ‘You must be the charming man we have heard so much about!’ 

‘Mom!’ You looked at her in horror, knowing your mother took her hobby of embarrassing you very seriously. But it also did not go unnoticed that the remark thawed a bit of Eddie’s nerves.

‘Hi Mrs—’ 

‘Oh, don’t be silly. Call me Jody.’ Your mom reassured him with a sweet smile before briefly turning her head in the direction of the garage door, ‘Stan! They’re here!’ 

‘I’m coming, I’m coming,’ your father jogged up to the hallways, hands filled with cooled beer bottles. You immediately noticed that he had let his hair grow out again since the last time you had seen him, and though he had done it before in your childhood, something gave you the idea that he might have done it with your boyfriend in mind. 

‘Where’s my little peppermint munchkin?’ He rushed to you with a tight hug that you could not even try to object. 

‘Hi dad,’ you cringed at the childhood, holiday-exclusive nickname and was already expecting Eddie to start laughing at the moniker, except when you pulled away from your father’s embrace and took a look at your boyfriend, the poor guy once again looked like he was about to faint. But not in the sense of panic as he had been the past week, or really ever since you had suggested for him to meet your parents. No, he looked like he had just seen a ghost. His eyes were wide in shock. Mouth slightly agape as he tried to muster out the words. 

‘Eddie?’ You quickly walked back up to him, ‘are you ok?’

‘Mhm,’ he nodded, but the sound he made was like a little mouse’s whimper. 

‘Okay,’ unsure, you tried to just diminish the tension between everyone in the room. ‘Right, well, dad, this is Eddie. Eddie this is my father–’

‘Sorry,’ finally, the words seemed to burst out of Eddie’s mouth, whether he had wanted them to or not. ‘Are you—’ he laughed nervously, looking at your father. ‘Are you the Stan Caldwell? From The Modern Judgement?’ 

As if suddenly overcome with uncharacteristic bashfulness, your father grinned and shrugged. ‘Guilty as charges.’

‘No fu–’ Eddie held himself back, still slightly mindful of who he was in the presence of, not that it mattered, ‘That is unbelievable. I love your albums.’

‘That’s sweet of you, kid.’ Your father, who had heard this schtick a few too many times from your previous romantic prospects, accepted the compliments, but you nudged Eddie a bit more into his good side.’

‘No, dad, he means it. He listens to Bury the Living like, all the time,’ you roll your eyes as Eddie shoots you an embarrassed glare, but it was all true. He listened to the band’s debut album without even realising he had been sleeping with the frontman’s daughter for the past one and a half years… not that that was information that needed to be shared with anyone in the room. 

‘What’s your favourite song?’ Your dad, now intrigued but mostly amused, raised a brow awaiting the make-or-break answer. 

‘Colossus, easy. But specifically, the demo version you released a few years back. The sound of the guitar on that is just-.’ Eddie replied, finishing his remark off with a chef's kiss, eyes filled with stars as he answered the question, ignoring you mouthing along the words he had repeated to you every time you listened to the song. 

‘Well, well, well, looks like you’ve finally found yourself a decent one, munchkin.’ Your dad laughed, grabbing Eddie by the shoulder and pulling him towards what you could only expect was the direction of his little at-home studio. ‘Let me show you the guitar I recorded the song on.’

‘No way,’ Eddie squealed like a little kid in a candy store. 

As you watched the two men disappear into the room, your mother came to stand by your side, giggling softly. ‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell him.’

‘I know I should have but I was kind of hoping to avoid…’ You were interrupted by the sounds of a guitar riff and more of Eddie’s excited exclamations. ‘Well… that.’ 

‘Let them have their fun.’ Your mom smiled, shaking her head. ‘Now come, I still need some help with dinner. I would ask your dad but…’ She didn’t have to explain. It was more than obvious that those two were not going anywhere. 

Unbelievable. You finally found yourself a nice guy, just for your dad to steal him from you. 

the end.

thank you for reading. let me know what you thought <3

[menlove]

one thing that adds to credibility of Paul being closeted imo, is that often he is thought of as having this internalised homophobia, if not homophobia itself, because he always mentions how un-gay he is whenever some gay subject comes up in interviews

but like, there are so many things that disprove him being homophobic, it's not even funny. going to Paris alone with gay men? Paul did that two times (three if we count John lol) and that Peter Brown story is incrediblyy suspect. what homophobic man, scared of gay, sits on the bed of his male employee and his male fling that casually late at night in his hotel room and chats them up?

most likely reason, combined with his incredibly suspect lyrics, is that he is so defensive about his sexuality because he has something to hide

THATS WHAT IIIIIM SAYING!!!! like he is so comfortable w gay people and gay culture which on its own isn't suspect but it Is when people insist he's homophobic as a Reason He's Repressed Not Closeted. and once again I must remind everyone that john nearly beat a man to death for calling him gay and was still undeniably queer.

it's just like. imagine for a moment. with me. everyone hold my hand. not claiming this is true but walk w me along this path to get to current paul that isn't "he's just repressed and stupid and doesn't even know he's bi" but is instead MY speculative timeline (somehow this turned into a mini fic or something god help me but I'M SO SERIOUS IM SO SERIOUS THIS WOULD MAKE THE MOST SENSE TO ME WALK WITH ME HOLD MY HAND)

you are born in the 1940s. you are raised by a strict man who was physically abusive & in a culture that hates gay people. you grow up watching people get killed for being queer and being bullied over your feminine features that people think make you queer. you hit puberty and Shit Gets Harder because you start finding other men hot. elvis, for one! when you're 15 you start seeing a boy around that you think is hot and it turns out he's in a band and you fall in love with his looks and his voice and then him. and he's just as insane about you. you start doing increasingly sexual things together. eventually, you're having a full blown sexual affair. while writing love songs together and growing up together. and then he gets his girlfriend pregnant. and marries her. and you lose him, a little bit. he goes off and has an affair with your gay manager & when he gets home he ruins your birthday party by nearly beating a man to death for bringing it up. you wonder what he'd do if anyone found out about the two of you too.

and then the insane happens and you end up The Most Famous Band In The World. the ENTIRE world is watching your every move. the entire world loves you. they wouldn't love you if they knew. you get a girlfriend and it's convenient because she's always gone and you're always alone. but you still have him. and other girls. through everything, you have each other. even when he says something stupid and the world wants all of your heads on a platter and he starts to fall into a depression, you still have each other. even if now you Know how bad it could be if they ever found out. and then your manager, your father figure, an openly gay man, dies. and it's not a suicide, but a lot of people think it is, and sometimes you wonder, and fuck it's terrifying, isn't it? the reality of your life, the reality of loving Him, the reality of being queer. what if that winds up being You? you start to lose Him a little bit more as you throw yourself into your work and push everyone way too hard. you propose to your girlfriend. and then you do lose Him. to a woman. which was sort of unthinkable because he was already married and never cared about her, just you. never cared about any women, just you. but he cares about Her. and you fucking lose your mind. lose yourself in drugs. blow up your engagement. propose to another girl and many more "jokingly". your one girlfriend says you had to try again or you would have gone "raving queer" and killed yourself. the whole time you're losing Him more and more. suddenly he's looking at Her like he used to look at you. you're no longer his world and what the fuck do you have? a bunch of girls you don't care about and a drug problem? and then you meet a woman who, according to you, is more woman than anyone else. she's a mother already, a family ready made when you've always wanted one. she's smart and she's funny and she's quick and you let yourself cling to her because you don't have Him and he has Her so you've got to have someone, don't you? and she winds up pregnant and that's great, that's wonderful, you're no longer in danger of dying alone and queer and sad. you've lost Him by now completely, even though you have about a month where things feel a little less awful again and you perform together one last time. you marry her and you ASK people, flat out, if they expected you to be a 26 year old unmarried queer. you fight the night before you're married for some unknown reason, so badly she almost leaves you. and then He marries Her, and everything is fine. and then it all falls apart completely. you at least had Him as your friend, your writing partner, the other half of you legally. and then he asks for a divorce. and the world ends. you don't have the band, you don't have Him, you don't have anything. you stay in bed all day, drinking, miserable. like a breakup, not just of the band.

eventually, your wife pulls you out of it. you survive. you start writing again. you write to him. you put two beetles fucking on the cover of your second album and he thinks a song you wrote about your wife's ex is about him (and maybe it is, a little) and he shoots right back. and you keep that up for a decade. writing to each other. seeing each other only in the news and in snatched moments together where nothing is the same as it was. you plead with him through your music: why do you hurt me so bad? call me, pretty baby. I'm waking up screaming over you. I can't tell you how I feel. you try and make things like they were, even a little, showing up to his house with your guitar like you're 15 again, but he sends you away. in all that time, he's basically gone to conversion therapy. he's with someone who makes disparaging remarks about his sexuality. for you, you've let yourself embrace being a bit campy, but you still can't bring yourself to be open about any of it. not with anyone but your wife.

and then you start talking again. you make up. things seem hopeful. it seems like he might still love you and he writes you a song about starting over with you. and then he's murdered. and it's senseless. it's so so senseless. and it's unfair. you lock yourself away for days listening to that song he wrote you. the media tears you apart for grieving wrong. they wish you died instead. they think you're cold. you never loved him, not like he loved you. you write a song, with tear marks on the page, telling him how much you DID love him. all the things you'd say to him if he were there with you. you write more songs about that, all centered around that theme. some of them you say are about him. others you don't. once, you say if anyone catches on you can just deny it. but he wrote you love songs too, apparently, for you, and you eventually record them with your old band

and the thing is, You are one of his widows. his name follows yours every time it leaves someone's mouth. he's all anyone ever talks about with you. he's all you want to talk about too. his legacy is your legacy. he's no longer here to tell people about his sexuality, he's no longer here to consent to everything that you were being told. he's not here. and how can you even begin to mention Your Own sexuality without bringing him up? you owe him more than outing him in death. you owe Her more than that too, because you were already cruel to her and so was the world. she's grieving just like you, you can't do that. your wife dies, and now you're her legacy too and you being queer would seem like a betrayal to her. your best friend dies, and now he's your legacy too. you aren't just you- you're Him, you're 1/2 of the living members of the most famous band to ever exist, you're Her, you're your dead wife

so when someone asks you about him. when someone asks you about being gay or calls him the love of your life. What Exactly Are You Supposed To Say?

I wouldn't say shit either

[emoisthenewemu]

Favorite present! ~ Megumi Fushiguro x GN! Reader

A/N i live for soft boy megumi like SORRY but he is sensitive I don’t make the rules. i love him sm and plan to write more for him in the future.

If you were to ask Megumi Fushiguro what his favorite present was this year, he would probably say you.

Wc:1086

"Meguuumiiii" You whine from the hall, holding a cardboard box full of your friends' presents. Ones you handmade with blood, sweat, and literal tears. In fact, you had begun the project as early as October (before Halloween even).

What at first seemed to be a cute idea of making stuffed animals soon turned into a pain in the ass, taking up most of your free time.  Of course when you and Megumi would see each other you would refrain from letting it distract you but the very second he left or even fell asleep there you went-crocheting away. When he would walk in your dorm after a long day of class?

There you sat, legs crossed and an ever-so determined look on your face. Hunched over in a way that looked painful-which it definitely was because you had been complaining about your horrible back pain for the past two months.

Every time the two of you would FaceTime you would be groaning and sighing, complaining about how it was crooked or you put too much stuffing. That your fingers were cramping or now you need to start all over because it looks just awful.

Oh how annoying it was for Megumi to sit and watch you suffer over something absolutely no one is forcing you to do. He told you countless times to just give up and ‘buy everyone gift cards like a normal person’.

But he soon learned his lesson because every single time he said anything like that it just ended in a speech about how important it is to ‘finish things you started’ and you ‘promised yourself it wouldn’t be another abandoned project sitting in the closet’. Yes, Megumi understands. He still thinks you are insane. And he will tell you so.

“Isn’t that why you love me?” You say and he can only nod.

Megumi loves your tenacious spirit. How passionate you are about the things you care for. How lucky he is to be one of the things you are very passionate about. It is the only reason he continues to support you in your endeavor. As long as you promise you will not be doing this shit again next year. He even puts a cute little Santa hat on and wears matching slippers with you. It only took like five minutes of begging!

The only thing that continues to bother him is that you did not make him one. Surely you would have mentioned it by now. He would have seen it one of the countless times he walked in to find your room scattered with yarn and your many ‘rough drafts’. He would also be lying if he did not admit he went snooping around a few times when you were showering in the hopes of finding his.

Kugisaki is getting a white bunny. A pink bear for Itadori. There’s an animal for Maki, Yuuta, Inumaki, Gojo, a panda for Panda (duh), and nothing for him.

Maybe you forgot. You’ve been so busy making all of them and it must have slipped your mind. You probably did not even think he would want one. He has no stuffed animals in his room or anything even remotely similar. It’s not like he would cuddle it at night and think about you or anything.

So he delivers the gifts with you-with a smile on his face. Whatever Megumi considers to be a smile at least. Even ignoring the comments of how ‘whooped’ he is to be standing there matching with you. A thing he once swore he would never do.

Until he met you. You softened him up like butter. Gone is the aggression that was always his go-to in any situation. The way you loved him made him feel complete. He used to find it absurd that falling in love could change a person.

But you change him for the better. You challenge him emotionally without trying to change who he is deep down. You bring out the best and suppress the worst of him. Oh how Megumi loves you, more than words can describe.

It is your first Christmas together. As a couple at least so he may have went a bit overboard with the presents. He was trying very hard to impress you. He would be deeply embarrassed if he got you a bunch of presents and you got him nothing.

Surely that would not happen. You gave him a present last year. Why would this one be any different?

He is just anxious, a feeling he knows a bit too well. Megumi is an overthinker, sometimes he will let even the smallest things eat him up inside. He is nervously chewing at the inside of his cheek, holding the now empty box as you finish giving away your last present.

You grab his hand, squeezing it tight before pressing a kiss onto his cheek. “Thanks for coming with me handsome. Im so glad this is over” You groan and he chuckles at the exasperated look on your face. “You were so right. Never again” You peck his cheek again and he smiles contently.

Your touch is so comforting he does not even realize the two of you are heading back to your dorm instead of his. Too lost in the warmth of your smooth hands and intoxicating giggle.

It is not until you open the door and walk him inside that he understands that all of his worries were for nothing. Sometimes he forgets that you might love him just the same way he loves you. Maybe even more like you swear you do. He feels almost silly for doubting you. As he should.

Your small twin bed is covered in presents. His presents. They range all different sizes. But right in the middle, atop one of the gifts sits two little crochet figures.

Two wolves, a white and a black one.

His chest is warm and tingly. Megumi pulls you into a hug. Arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his head digging into the nape of your neck-he swallows the lump forming in his throat.

“Thank you” Megumi sighs into your chest, moving up to kiss your neck lovingly.

“Ohh Megs” You chuckle, trying to jump excitedly up and down but his arms prevent you from doing so. They grip you tighter. “You need to open them first!”

And he says something so cheesy he would have thrown up if the moment wasn’t so sweet. “You’re the only present I need”

[twopoppies]

Gina, I want to tell you I have been reading your blog for a couple years now. I’ve never sent an ask to anyone. I first came into the fandom when I watched Harrychella and I thought hmm this man isn’t just flagging he is screaming at the top of his lungs. Then I watched the Cosmic Leeds videos and I fell down a rabbit hole. I am not someone who believes “conspiracy theories”. I am however old enough to know closeting has been proven to exist in the entertainment industry. I’m also from a rural area of the U.S. where homophobia is the norm, so unfortunately I had no trouble believing closeting still exists. I went into full information gathering mode about Larry Stylinson, but it was more than that too. I fell in love with 1D and all the boys’ solo work, especially Louis. I loved his voice, his songwriting, and his ‘real’ personality (when he allowed it to shine through all the media training). I read through every tumblr I could, you and Daisie provided a wealth of information that can not be ignored. I feel certain that Larry was real and I hope they are still together. I’m not one of those people who never doubted. It would be hard not to second guess things in this fandom with all the gaslighting that goes on. I write all of this to say that I’ve never felt so sad and like there is no hope for change as I do right now. It feels like Louis’ fandom is falling apart. There is so much division, hate, and intolerance of any idea that doesn’t conform to someone’s own. Louis pr strategy honestly baffles me. A divided fandom is so tiring. It seems less like pr and more like intentional sabatoge, which I guess it could be. I just don’t see any way out for him or Harry. I think Harry’s extended break is partly because of this too. I think he was overworked and emotionally drained for many reasons, but closeting most of all is exhausting. If I’m feeling this way as a fan I can’t imagine how they must be feeling. It breaks my heart. Sometimes I hope I am crazy and Larry was never real because the story is just too sad. Don’t even get me started on bbg because it is the shittiest situation ever. I think I need to take a step back from the fandom for a bit. But this brings me to my point. I’m pretty resilient, I can not be the only person feeling this way. It makes me so worried for Louis’ career and for both Louis and Harry’s mental health. I guess I don’t really have an ask. I just wanted to say thank you for all the information you have provided over the years. And, I needed to get this off my chest. If I posted this on twitter I would be roasted and I’m not strong enough for that right now. I meant it when I said I fell in love with their music, so I will continue to support all the boys. I’m hoping there is a master plan that will eventually set them free. But, I just keep coming back to the line

‘Said I had a plan for us Time had came and changed it all We had to disappear 'Cause nothing gets through here’

I will add one more thing. I believe there are more Larries than people think, but we are tired of the gaslighting and the hate, so many of us step back or hide. This is why the industry wins most of the time. 😥

Hi, sweetheart. Thank you for sharing your thoughts. I'm sorry it feels so overwhelming right now. I do think taking a step back is probably really healthy for most of us. I've actually never seen the fandom in such shambles.

I don't know what Louis' plan is in terms of his fandom or his future plans. But I have dozens and dozens of sad, confused, and angry messages in my inbox, and that fucking sucks. I really don't see a way forward at the moment. I will say, though, that some of the upset stems from some people's tendency to lean into worst-case scenarios and amplify their own worries by jumping to conclusions. Then there are the shit-stirrers who try to make things worse by sending in fake receipts or theories. It's hard to stay grounded when there's insanity whirling around you.

As for Harry and Louis, I do tend to believe they're still together. I don't think their relationship has been as easy as many of us would like to believe – I don't think it could be, given their ages when they met and the conditions they've had to live with. I do think they're soulmates... soulmates don't always end up together, but I tend to think these two will make it. I certainly hope they do.

Our fandom never does well when the boys aren't active. I think if you want to get your sanity back, now is as good a time as any.

[vi0l3tluvsu]

Dead Girl’s Paradise.

hc!au!Tate Langdon and dead!reader

Tags ; spiteful reader , clueless Tate , bonding, death, biting , violet mention!! , comfort , yelling

Word Count: 2868

A/n ; Tate langdon is a bit ooc and this is an AU fic. I got this idea from a Jack Kays’ album (deadbeat) . it’s very little reread and it’s probably terrible 🫶🫶 enjoy it’s my first work

Tate Langdon moved into your house just over a month ago and since moving in he’s rearranged your furniture, taken down your posters, and blasted terrible music from a strange device. You glare at him sometimes, watching him lazily drag about the house and complain in his sloppy journals about school and his mother. If you could speak, you’d laugh at him. His journals were that of a mad man. The world needs to burn. Everyone must suffer. You scoffed at his insane rambles, at his thoughts of going into his school and .. well he’d never do it. He was a coward. Every time Constance opened her mouth, he fled. Hid in his room and cried, scribbled and ripped pages. Some of what he wrote was almost poetic, if it weren’t him writing it. The world will bend and all that will be left is the ashes of what could have been the best, but failed before making it. You rolled your eyes, kicking the papers about the floor. Sometimes, just to drive him insane, you moved his CDs around his room, Nirvana in his closet. Kurt Cobain singles CD in his boxer drawer. Tate was boring. The most boring teenager you’d ever had the misfortune of watching move in and then, just as expected, move out. Except only his family moved out and, despite every wish you’d had, he’d stayed.

You stayed relatively hidden from him. A shadow in an empty house as he rotted in his bedroom, but his mopping was getting annoying and now he was the shadow that was torturing you. In your own house.

“Hello..?” Tate’s voice called out into the dark of his bedroom. The scuffled sound of his desk chair moving away from his desk had startled the poor boy awake and he sat, eyes wide, staring into the darkness that almost dared to reach out and touch him. A gun cocked somewhere on his bed and your eyes moved from the chair to him. You were standing just about ten feet from him, your blood stained hands pulling the chair closer to you, further from the desk. “I’m - I’m not afraid!” He spit as he said it. As if he needed to convince himself before anyone else, “I’ve .. got a g-gun!” He called out, aiming into the darkness and at you.

The moonlight barely lit his room, like a dull candle in the center of a ballroom, he was shaking and you could hear it. You sneered, stepping towards the shell of moonlight cascading across the floor in front of his bed, your feet were light. The floor board creak just barely audible as you touched the wood, three feet from him. “Who are you?! How’d you get in?!” His voice cracked, you could hear true fear. From the same boy who had said he’d kill all who wronged him. You leaned your head forward, hair just barely falling in front of your face as your eyes met his. His blue eyes struck a cord in you as your nerves spiked. He was really holding a gun at a ghost.

You grunted at him, eyes narrowing. His lip pulled up and he made a face that was somewhere between disgust and fascination. Your eye brows folded in which narrowed your eyes even more. You stepped closer to him, hands reaching out toward the bed. His gun followed you as you pushed your way toward him until the barrel was sticking to your forehead. He seemed frozen in time, his eyes fixed on yours, unmoving. Unblinking. You turned your head slightly to see him past the gun and his eyes moved to follow yours instinctively.

“You’re..” his hands trembled under the weight of the small pistol in his hands, “you’re dead too?” The words struck you funny. Too. How could he be dead? He was more alive looking than any living person who passed through. You huffed, sitting back onto the bed and watching him. He put the gun down, well, dropped the gun down… “How long have you been.. uh.. stalking me?” His words stuttered out of him like he wasn’t sure where to start. You shrugged, eyes dropping to his covered legs. “Okay..” he sighed, “uh.. what’s your name?” His eyebrows knit together and he backed up slightly. You put a hand to your throat and looked around. It’s hard to answer someone with cut vocal cords. You grabbed his arm and he flinched, instinctively pulling back with a yelp as you forced up his sleeve and were faced with scars from wrist to elbow. You skimmed past it and started tracing letters onto him. He leaned his head forward and looked at the rest of your body. The collar of your shirt was drenched and smeared in thick dark red, the gentle lace of it forever ruined, the cream shirt layered on top was also stained but not as badly . It laid just off your shoulder to show off the Lacey under shirt, the sweater bunched up where it met your jeans. He scanned back up until his eyes fell upon your neck. He pulled back, a little red. You pulled back too and you must have looked as confused as he looked concerned. “Uhm. Sorry, I like your.. sweater..” his eyes shifted to your sweater, then your neck, and back to your sweater. “So .. pretty name..” he smiled softly, his sudden okayness with you seemed weird but you chalked it up to him enjoying not being alone anymore. “What’s your- oh.. wait.. - I mean-“ his legs slid out from the covers and he stood. The sun was rising outside the window and as the light started to hit the curtains Tate paced mumbling questions to himself.

“Okay. What’s y-“ he turned towards the bed, and you were gone. Retreated to the safety of your attic to avoid being really seen. You sat, cradling yourself until you started to doze off, small dreams came to you in flashes. Your parents at the funeral, your body still lying in a river not too far away. Your dog, Clover, left to forever search for you.

“Hello?” Tate’s voice rang out from the floor below, he was searching every nook and cranny to find you. Your sudden appearance had given him a chance to socialize and apparently he wasn’t letting that go. “Uh.. HELLO?!” His calls became louder, almost piercing. He called out your name, opened every cabinet, closet, and drawer. His desperation leading him everywhere but to the attic. For now, your haven of silence was gone but you hoped he would give up searching and- “there you are!” You had missed the creak of the attic door opening and now Tate was staring at you, a weak smile on his face as he carefully approached you. “Uh.. I was calling for you. I guess you didn’t hear.” He sounded cold, but kept a smile anyway. You shuffled away from him, trying not to let him get close enough to touch you like you’d touched him. He stepped closer still, backing you against the far wall of the attic, “you know. It’s been months since I had someone to talk to.. it’s nice to have company.” He gestured with his hands as he spoke, picking at the sleeve of his dark sweater, “Why’d you run away?” His eyes were piercing as he asked, his footsteps getting closer until he was almost nose-to-nose with you. “Why’d you leave me alone again?”

You were stunned, fear took over you. You stared up at him. He wasn’t much taller than you, maybe two inches, but it was enough. His eyes trailed to your neck again, the scar that spanned the width of your neck. You bent your head down raising your hand to cover it, his hand reached to grab yours. It was a gentle tight, the kind of pressure that wasn’t uncomfortable. You bent your head more trying to cover up your neck as much as possible. His other hand slowly touched your cheek, his light touch a shock to your nervous system, he pushed your head up until you were looking at each other again. His face was soft, his eyes searching your face up close now. He was taking in all of your features as you struggled against his wrist. He hummed to you, but his sudden sweetness didn’t change the bitter taste that was left in your mouth by the position you found yourself forced into. He’s hand drifted, thumb running along your lip, you parted them letting him fall into a false security before leaning forward and biting down on his thumb.

“Ow?! You bitch!” Tate stumbled back, falling over a box and hitting his head against the low ceiling, “I was trying to be nice!” You fled, tripping down the attic steps and nearly falling down the main ones until you reached the basement. The cold cement felt good against your socked feet and you found a corner curling into a ball and taking deep breathes.

After your first “run-in” with Tate you let the weeks pass hiding in his shadow as he searching relentlessly for you. You assumed his searching was to hurt you, but as you watched him pace and write, as he became more desperate to find you, the realization that he was just as lonely as you were hit like a brick. Eventually, he gave up searching and went back to his room locking the door and playing his awful music again. He gave up finding you and so you gave up watching him, retreating to the attic only to find a neat pile of clean clothes on the floor behind the door. You had spent so much time in your new hiding spot, the basement, and following him around that you hadn’t thought to check on the attic. Now, you had a pit of regret about avoiding him. In the pile was an oversized gray sweater, a pair of jeans, and mismatched socks. They must have been his sister’s clothes at some point. Guilt started to eat you as you slipped into the new clothing, it was weird to not feel the starchy and stiff of blood on your shoulders and around your neck but the change was welcome along with the new smell. You sat in the attic, the idea of going and talking with Tate felt foreign, like a small knife cut into your chest and dug out your insides. Grinding your teeth, you stood in the doorway clicking the knob’s lock as you debated whether to go and see him. The idea left you nerve wracked so you turned and locked the attic opting to stay hidden just a little bit longer before letting him find you again.

It took a few days for you to work up the courage to actually go and knock on his door but the day you did his music had ceased. There was no noise coming from his room and the door was wide open, Tate sat motionless on his bed holding a picture. You stepped forward into his doorframe pushing at the hinges of his door as it creaked open. His head shot up and he took in the image of you in fresh clothes, it was midday and despite not enjoying being seen in sunlight you couldn't be picky anymore. "Oh. it's just you." his tone was cold, any trust that had been built or affection that could have been gone. "I see you.. found my gift." he swallowed the words clutching the photograph tighter, you stepped forward sighing. The closer he stepped the more protective of his photo he became until you were sitting next to him on the bed and the photo was flipped upside down. "I was looking for you, you know." His mouth twisted into a sort of frown as you nodded, of course you had known. He was practically screaming your name all throughout the house. Awkwardly you rubbed your legs and Tate relaxed a bit, the guilt you had felt was still eating you and without being able to say sorry you were left with the feeling. Your eyes drifted down to the photograph. Instinctively, you raised an eyebrow, curiosity was never your strong suit but the silence was enough to kill even the bravest person.

Tate noticed you take an interest and quickly put it in his nightstand, "It.. It's none of your business." he blushed saying it, like it should be your business but he couldn't explain why. You rolled your eyes and stood heading for his door. It was useless to try and be friendly with someone like him. "Wait.. where are you going? Don't disappear again." He stood with you grabbing your hand and tightening as you turned to meet his gaze. There it was again, that gentle pressure that had driven you away the first time. You didn't pull away this time, it was as if some invisible line was wrapping around you. A voice begging you to stay. You turned, hand in his, and stared expectantly into his eyes. "I just.. I don't want to be alone again." He rubbed his thumb over the pad of your hand, the gentle circles felt like fire igniting under your skin but you let him. You huffed, letting him lead you back to the bed. You spent the next few days this way, laying about his bed and letting him ramble to you about what he called, "the latest". You didn't understand any of it. He slowly taught you about the current 2006 "pop culture", how to properly use a computer and what the name was of the strange device that played his horrid music. A Boombox. It became apparent that since your untimely end, a lot had changed. That you had changed. Tate rambled on about My Chemical Romance and how overrated The Fray was, almost all of it was lost to you. Yet, you were still content listening, despite not answering almost any question you were given Tate could answer them for you. "Do you think Nickelback will always be this popular?... Probably not. I mean like two of their songs are good.." You never tired of his talking, theories, and weird movies. Soon you were consumed by Deep Sea, Silent Hill, and Air Buddies. Tate's strange taste grew on you, now you were picking out movies, songs, even TV shows to watch on his old laptop. It wasn't too bad, hanging out with him, and obviously he didn't think you were too bad either. Until you walked into his room early in the spring of 2007, wearing a purple knit sweater. You had found it in a box hidden in the basement, and Tate screamed. "Where did you find that?! Take that off! You've ruined it! It was pure!" he had ran at you, frantic, but had been careful where he touched the sweater so as not to damage it at all. The shock of his yelling had startled you too much and you fled. Fled to the attic, locking the door. Tate followed, close behind but not close enough when you slammed the door in his face. "Wait, I-.. I can explain- Please give me the sweater back. Please. You don't understand it's hers." You didn't answer, just stood breathless behind the door as he walked away. A few minutes past when you saw a photograph slip under the door.

"It was vio- .." he went quiet, unsure of his words, "it was a .. friend of mines.. we met at school and. She was important to me, so please. Give it back." you took off the sweater, careful to fold it neatly before opening the door a crack and giving it to him. His sigh of relief once it was with him again was a calm you'd never seen in him, as if the mere reminder of her was enough to tell him it was okay. "I'm.. Thank you.." he mumbled. You closed the door and picked up the photo, it was creased and smudged in the corner where you could tell he was holding it too tightly, his sweat wearing it down. The girl in the photo looked beautiful. She stood next to Tate, just a few inches shorter, holding a lit cigarette and flipping off the camera, her tongue sticking out. Tate was holding the camera and smiling, a peace sign just barely in view, like he held his hand a certain way so as not to cover her. She was wearing that purple sweater, the same one you had put on. You walked silently to Tate's room, he was curled up on his bed hugging the sweater. You put the photo down on his nightstand and curled up with him, hugging him from behind. "She was everything to me." he buried his face into her sweater as your hand pet his hair, you had never comforted anyone before but this was how your mom comforted you when you cried. He let out a sob, turning to you and wrapping an arm around your waist, "I'm glad you didn't disappear again. You remind me a lot of her."

A/n: eeeee Thank you for reading!! I'm sorry it was so long<3 and I'm sorry if the ending was unsatisfactory.. I ran out of ideas for this one but I wanted to post it because i liked the writing

[caustinen]

what about a modern clegan au where they’ve been married for years and to spice things up they do a roleplay where the other comes to pick the other up from a bar 🤭 bucky would be insanely into pretending gale is some unhappy & closeted married man on a worktrip that he starts to flirt with and eventually brings home to show him the best time he’s had in years 🤭 but gale… oh man he was so shy and inexperienced when they first got together his flirting was very lowkey but OH BOY does he take advantage of this opportunity to woo bucky now when he knows he’s a sure thing, i’m talking showing up wearing slutty clothes and pretending nonchalance while also being touchy-feely and getting bucky tipsy as he whispers low on his ear how stupid bucky’s husband must be to let him just walk anywhere looking that handsome, oh you must work out so much you could probably crush me with these strong arms, wanna play a game and guess the color of my underwear? while bucky’s fantasy is about him being the right one for gale even if he mistakenly ended up with someone else in the playpretend, gale finds it hot to think that bucky would want him so much that all his other moral compases would be second to his desire 🤭 like actual cheating in their loving healthy relationship is so far-fetched that none of real insecurities are even a factor in this fantasy and they can just enjoy being silly together 🥰

[aliceisathome]

I must confess that I'm mainly watching The Boy Next World because I like looking at Boss...

Anyhoo if it's really a multiverse situation the Phu from over there is definitely dead and the Cir from this timeline is in a comatose body over there. If it's not, then Cir basically liked Phu from school onwards but was too closeted/scared to do anything about it and basically knows everything because he's been stalking him from a distance for YEARS. The car accident made him regret the road not taken blah blah. I prefer the former because the latter's just creepy - so knowing MAME it'll probably be that.

And, of course, being Mame there's also aggressive girls who want Cir to either date them or remain unavailable (and it's worse because he's rumoured to be dating A MAN. Gasp). Unless their behaviour is a kind of allegory on the behaviour of insane fans. Is she that subtle though?

Anyway Boss is very pretty and seems to spend a lot of time in a wet shirt so there's that. I'm only marginally invested so am happy to watch this as it airs rather than binge watch.

[not-the-living-ghost]

Favorite episode from dbd?

My favorite episode is probably Episode 7. It's just such an emotional rollercoaster, from start to finish. There's the staircase scene, the Simon scene, the flashback to when Charles first met Edwin, and so, so much more.

The acting in this episode absolutely blew me away — specifically George Rexstrew's performance as Edwin — and the scriptwriting was absolutely phenomenal.

The cinematography was breathtaking and incredibly clever. I loved the way that they shot the different scenes in Hell, angling and twisting the camera to evoke whatever emotion was intended. There were so many different nuances and details that were added into this one episode — so much so that I'd probably have to make a post about about each one separately.

One scene in this episode that I think is thoroughly underappreciated is the scene with Simon and Edwin. This scene meant so much to me, as a queer person, especially as someone who's gone through a crap ton of internalized homophobia (although I can't say I've sacrificed any of my classmates to a demon over it). Seeing something like that portrayed in media in a way that was so real and raw was insanely meaningful to me.

I feel like this small subplot of the show perfectly represents how the show blends fantasy and reality. Dead Boy Detectives is a supernatural show with supernatural characters. The main characters are ghosts, their friend is a psychic, and they're constantly under the threat of an evil witch. However, the show tackles so many real life issues (issues such as homophobia, racism, and domestic violence), and they do it with a level of grace that perfectly balances fiction and reality. The Simon scene perfectly demonstrates this.

I also appreciated the way that the showriters went about dealing with Simon's internalized homophobia. Generally speaking, when people suggest that homophobes themselves are likely queer, they mean it as a joke, or an insult. "You're homophobic, so you must be gay," and they'll simply laugh at the disgusted reaction — which is, in it of itself, simply another provocation of homophobia. Dead Boy Detectives, however, went at this from a different angle. Because yes, homophobes themselves can be queer — internalized homophobia does not discriminate, ironically enough — but Dead Boy Detectives took this narrative and flipped it on its head. They took the common trope of the homophobe being secretly in the closet, and further delved into what that truly meant for everyone involved. They explored the destructive reality of internalized homophobia for someone like Simon without, at the same time, undermining the struggle and torment that Edwin was put through. And the fact that they did all of this in the span of just 10 minutes is absolutely mindboggling to me.

Episode 7 had a little bit of everything, and I loved it so so much <33

This post ended up being three paragraphs longer than I expected, and I went off on a bit of a tangent there, but this was fun to write 😭😭

[hbyrde36]

It's Only Forever

R: Mature | WC: 5203 | | Ch 7/8 | Read on AO3

[Penny Art - Eddie's Introduction] [Penny Art - The Ball]

[SissayeRys Art Link]

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6

Chapter 7: Thirteen O'Clock

Steve woke with a sudden, violent jolt. 

Heart pounding, his eyes snapped open wide, taking in the details of his bedroom ceiling through bleary eyes as he tried to shake off the sensation of falling.

It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. It happens to everyone, and Steve more than most with his lifelong fear of heights—that moment when you’re just dozing off and out of nowhere your whole body jerks and you feel like you’ve plummeted off a ten story building to land hard on the pavement below.

Tick, tock.

Huh. 

Steve raised his arm, pulling back the sleeve of his wash-worn yellow sweatshirt to tap at the watch on his wrist. Had it always been so loud?

He sat up, feeling groggy and a little confused, swinging his legs—with sneakers still laced to his feet and everything—over the side of the bed, no memory of deciding to take a nap. He must have come back upstairs at some point and laid down, tired from practice and having yet another fight with Dustin, and accidentally fallen asleep.

Which meant that all of the hazy recollections and insane shit that was swirling around in his head like a goddamn tornado had just been a dream. That was… a relief, he supposed, and it made more sense than the alternative. Goblins weren’t real, neither were magical ever-changing labyrinths or half-dwarves, talking worms or friendly hairy giants with surfer-boy accents, and certainly not Goblin Kings. No matter how attractive they were. 

Even if he could still feel the ghost of Eddie’s lips on his own. 

Steve shook his head, trying to clear away the feeling and the lingering fog. He should probably go check on Dustin, see if their pizza ever arrived and make sure the kid ate. He’d been a bit too harsh on the little guy earlier, if he was honest. It really wouldn’t kill him to be a better big brother and just play the stupid nerd game every once in a while.

Crossing to the door, Steve yanked it open, but instead of being faced with the upstairs hallway of his childhood home, he was knocked back by a tsunami of miscellaneous junk and garbage pouring in through the opening.

It reminded him instantly of when Robin made that door to get them out of the oubliette, accidentally finding a broom closet before finding the way out.

Suddenly everything came back into sharp focus. The stark reality of what he’d been through, no longer fuzzy at all. 

What the—

Robin. 

The peach. 

It must have done something to him. He couldn’t believe it—it wasn’t a dream, it was all wonderfully—terribly real.

And as usual, he was running out of time.

He didn't quite know what to think about the ball, and everything that had happened between him and Eddie while his memories had taken a holiday. He wasn’t even sure how he’d managed to escape that place, but there was no time to dwell on it now. He had to find a way out of this tomb of trash and get back on course.

“Steeeeeeevieeeeeee!”

The sound of his name being called by a familiar voice from somewhere up above made its way through the garbage heap, thanks to a small gap between an old tire, and what might have been an antique tiffany lamp, where Steve could just barely see a little daylight. 

“Down here!” He called back, beginning to claw through the debris when a pair of arms forced their way through. Argyle’s huge hands wrapped themselves around his waist, lifting him carefully out.

When Steve was finally free, the gentle giant crushed him to his chest, while a whining Jonathan clung to his leg, embracing his calf as though he were hugging him around the middle all the same.

“How’d you get down there? We've been looking for you everywhere, brochacho!” 

“Look, Steve. We’ve almost made it!” Jonathan said, tugging on Steve’s pant leg as he swiveled around to point at a spot behind them. “Those are the gates to the Goblin City!”

Steve turned, staring in disbelief—they were standing on top of a pile of forgotten trash at the edge of what looked like a massive junkyard. But following Jonathan's line of sight, he found that it was true. Not a hundred yards away stood a small city, surrounded by smooth stone walls.

“Robin?” Steve asked quietly, glancing from one friend’s face to the other.

Argyle and Jonathan both shook their heads sadly, wearing matching looks of sympathy. They may not have known exactly what happened, but they’d clearly figured out she had something to do with it.

Steve nodded, mostly to himself, and pushed ahead to lead the way, not sure what else to say about it. 

Yes, she’d betrayed him—again—but he couldn’t help caring about her now. Besides, this was Eddie’s doing, not hers. She’d only done what she was ordered to do, he was sure of it.

“Let’s go, quickly,” Steve called back over his shoulder. “We don’t have much time.”

The gates were made from a pair of heavy wooden doors with thick iron rings for handles, set into a wide stone archway. A comically oversized iron crown with six curved prongs sat on its peak, the only decoration.

A single guard who had fallen asleep at his post seemed to be all that stood between Steve and his companions, and the city beyond.

It all felt a little too easy as Argyle forced the big doors open, their movement all but silent on well oiled hinges, and the three of them snuck inside. 

Steve should have known the other shoe was about to drop.

Almost as soon as the first set of gates closed behind them, another even bigger set—the real gates to the city, he assumed—made of shiny and oddly bulbous metal, slammed closed in front of them, cutting them off before they could pass through the city limits. As the two halves came together, the reason for their strange appearance became clear—to create the visage of a massive goblin warrior wielding an equally huge axe.

“Who goes there?” A distorted and slightly robotic sounding voice boomed through the enclosed space.

If all of that weren’t ominous enough, then the enormous warrior began to move, freeing itself from its slot in the doors and raising its weapon.

Steve gulped.

Any hope, however pathetic, that what he and Eddie shared at the ball had been real was officially squashed. If Eddie had felt even a fraction of what Steve had—did—he wouldn’t still be fighting to keep him from his brother like this.

The great mechanical goblin stepped forward, bringing his axe down on them in a wide sweeping arc. Luckily, the creature… robot… thing… moved so slowly that it was easy enough to dodge its hits for now, but Steve knew they couldn't keep this up forever. They had to find a way past it.

Argyle must have sensed the urgency too, hauling Jonathan up onto his back before jumping high into the air to grab onto one of the metal goblin’s arms. Jonathan scampered up to Argyle’s shoulder, leaping the last few feet to latch on to the machine’s other arm. 

While their tandem attack did manage to make the metal giant drop his axe, he was still able to quickly shake them off. They tumbled to the ground in a heap of flailing limbs, hair, and fur, thankfully with Jonathan landing on top of their two-creature pile, both of them unharmed.

Steve stood in front, shielding them as they recovered and stood, and raised his eyes back to their enemy to see its next move only to spot Robin crawling her way across the high city walls that flanked the inner gate, making her way towards them.

“Robin!” Steve cried out, but she didn’t look down.

She jumped, landing right on top of the metal goblin’s head, tearing it from the rest of the body and tossing it to the ground below with a hollow clang. 

It truly was some kind of machine. Sitting inside its helmet of a head, now exposed to the light, was a much smaller goblin, a live one, operating what was essentially a moving suit of armor with knobs and levers. 

Robin grabbed for the controls, managing to switch the thing off while the small goblin slapped at her repeatedly. His efforts were mostly ineffective given their difference in size, until she got a little too close to the edge of the machine. 

She lost her balance, falling out of the small cockpit, but not before grabbing the little guy up by the scruff of his neck, determined to take him down with her. 

When they hit the ground Steve rushed to Robin’s side, making sure she was okay before checking over the goblin. The small creature’s eyes shot open, and he screamed in terror when Steve reached for him, launching himself to his feet and fleeing in a blur.

“I’m so sorry, Steve. Eddie made me give you that peach,” Robin rushed out as Steve helped her to her feet. “But, that’s not an excuse. I knew it was wrong. I should have resisted, no matter what he threatened me with. It wasn’t worth losing your friendship. I won’t ask for your forgiveness, I know I don’t deserve it. I just had to come back and make sure—”

“I forgive you,” Steve cut her off, scooping her up into his arms and squeezing her tightly. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

She collapsed in his hold, pressing her face into his chest. “I’m glad you’re okay too.”

“Those were some pretty sweet moves,” Argyle said, moving closer to pat Robin gently on the head.

Jonathan raced in circles around the three of them, his fluffy tail wagging with abandon. “Yeah! It’s good to have you back.”

Reluctantly, Steve eventually had to let her go so she could turn to their furry friends, smiling sheepishly. 

“Thanks.” Robin blinked away tears that they all pretended not to see, before clearing her throat. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go get Steve’s brother back!”

The four of them pushed through the second set of gates and into the city with their guards raised, ready for the next fight. They passed home after unusual home, small cottages mixed in with multilevel bungalows, all built on precarious angles with stone and brick, and all appearing as quiet and empty as the streets outside.

“Where is everyone?” Steve asked. Not really expecting an answer. His companions were all looking around too, as confused as he was. 

“I don’t know.” Robin shook her head. “But I think if we cut up this alleyway it’ll take us to the main road through downtown, and lead us straight up to the castle.”

They walked single file, with Argyle insisting on taking the lead, down the narrow space between two of the larger buildings Steve had seen so far, only for the big guy to stop abruptly just before they could all spill out onto the next street.

“Hey, why’d we stop?” Robin called out from the rear.

“Uh… dudes?” 

Steve turned sideways, plastering himself against the side of the building to squeeze around Argyle and see what the problem was.

Lining the street on either side were dozens, if not hundreds, of goblins of all shapes and sizes. From tiny infants in their mother’s arms, their pointed ears sticking out from beneath swaddling blankets, to withered gray-bearded goblins, hunched over as they leaned on walking sticks made from gnarled wood. 

All eyes turned in his direction as Steve took a few careful steps out onto the road, swallowing hard as he took in the sheer size of the display, stretching all the way to the castle sitting on high at least a mile away in the distance.

Robin appeared at his side, whispering from the corner of her mouth. “What are they doing?”

Steve could feel Argyle and Jonathan move up to his back as he shook his head. “This is weird.”

It was like they were the stars of an eerily quiet parade. As the four of them walked up the middle of the main drag, none of the onlookers said a word or tried to stop them, they simply watched with open curiosity.

In no time they were at the base of the castle steps, and Steve braced himself, turning to face his friends. 

“I guess this is it. Wish me luck.”

“What do you mean?” Robin asked, eyes narrowed.

“I’ll never be able to thank you all enough for getting me here, but I have to go the rest of the way alone.”

“But, why?” She asked.

“I think that’s just how it's done,” Steve said.

Jonathan tilted his head with a hum. “Oh, well if that’s how it’s done—”

“Screw that,”Robin snapped. “We’re coming with you.”

“Robin… it’ll be okay—I’ll be okay.”

She frowned, arms crossing over her chest. “Fine. I don’t like it, but fine. I’ll stay out here if that’s what you want, but I'm not leaving.”

“Me too!” Argyle agreed.

Jonathan barked. “Me three!”

Steve tipped his head at them all and turned to go.

“Hey, Steve?” Robin called out. “Should you need us—”

He looked back over his shoulder, smiling even though his throat was suddenly painfully tight. 

“I’ll call.”

The castle halls, much like the streets below, were similarly lined with goblins. Though, these were dressed more like soldiers than the more common folk who’d stood watch on the way through the city. 

One by one, as Steve passed, the guards pointed him on, using their spears as arrows to show him the way to the very heart of the castle. 

Its center. 

Which housed, not some showy throne room like Steve was expecting, but a breathtaking atrium with a wide open air ceiling. 

The space was perfectly round, with arched entrances to the north, south, east, and west. A tranquil pond full of colorful fish sat in its middle, fed by a small waterfall, surrounded by lush green foliage and flowers in bloom that Steve had never seen before—that he wondered if they even existed in his world. The rest of the room was dotted with ornately carved benches and thick velvet cushions.

Steve was so distracted with taking it all in that he nearly missed it, his watch, falling suddenly silent as all of its hands came to rest on the thirteen with a final tick. 

“No-no-no. I’m here!” He shouted to the empty room. “I did it. It might have taken me every single second you gave me but I did it. Now, give me my brother back!”

Steve heard the footsteps before he saw anyone. 

Light and quick, the set of feet seemed to be racing towards him from the northern entrance. He rounded the pond, unsure whether to ready himself for some kind of face-off or what, when Dustin came charging through the doorway and flung himself right into Steve’s arms.

Tears sprung to his eyes as he clutched the younger boy to his chest, relief quickly overtaking the shock, hitting him like a tidal wave, so hard he might have fallen to his knees if Dustin hadn’t been holding him back just as tightly.

With a final squeeze Steve pulled back, searching his little brother over from head to toe. He looked… fine. Unharmed. Happy, even, gazing up at Steve with sparkling eyes and a wide gummy smile. 

“I’m so glad you’re finally here! I missed you! I knew you could do it, I told them! I did! This is the coolest thing that’s ever happened to us! I can’t wait to hear all about your adventures. Did you make any friends? I bet you did, and I—”

“Wait a second,” Steve cut in. “Aren't you mad at me?”

“Are you kidding?! This place is like a dream come true! Magic is real! All those things I thought were made up actually exist! And I never would have known if it wasn’t for you!”

“But—”

Steve was interrupted by another set of footsteps headed their way, echoing through the same hall Dustin had just appeared out of. They both glanced up as the sound grew nearer and finally stopped, to see a figure standing in the shadows, hesitating in the doorway.

Dustin turned back to Steve, a smirk playing on his lips as he patted him on the arm. “I’ll let you two talk.”

“Wait—” Steve began, but before he could stop him, Dustin was already walking off with the confidence of someone who knew exactly where they were going.

Steve reeled. 

He’d expected to find his little brother shaken and terrified, locked up in a tower or some creepy dungeon in the bowels of the castle, but Dustin seemed comfortable in its walls—beyond comfortable. The kid made it sound like he was having the time of his fucking life!

What the hell had been going on here while Steve was busy fighting his way through the labyrinth?

The figure in the shadows took a few tentative steps forward—into the atrium, and into the light.

He wore a pair of white vintage Reeboks and black jeans that looked like they’d seen better days, a little bit faded and ripped at the knees. His white t-shirt was emblazoned with a devil’s head logo Steve didn't recognize, partially obscured by a worn black leather jacket, and finally a denim vest, a little big through the shoulders, and covered in various pins and patches of old bands. 

It was a far cry from his usual Goblin King regalia, but it suited him just as much, maybe more so. Even his hair was different, still curly and a little wild but much less voluminous and untamed, framing a freshly washed face, bare of its usual makeup.

“Eddie?”

Eddie dipped his head in a shallow nod. “I’m sorry about all the trouble down at the gates. You and your friends got there before I could get the word out to stand down.”

“W-what…” Steve trailed off, looking the other boy up and down several times. “What’s going on?”

“This is me. The real me. I couldn’t let you go without… I mean, If this is the last time we’re ever going to see each other, I wanted to meet you as myself.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It happened in the Spring, 1986,” Eddie began, biting nervously at his plush bottom lip.

“I’d just turned nineteen, and I was taken by the Goblin King, same as Dustin. Except no one was there to fight for me. My old man said good riddance. I’m sure he thought it was a happy accident, or an acid trip. He didn’t care where I'd been taken, or by who. If I was alive or dead. The king took pity on me. It turned out he was kind underneath all the–” Eddie gave a wry smile, gesturing down at himself as though he were still wearing the fancy linen, leather, and cape. 

“He gave me rooms, free run of the castle, the labyrinth, and after a short time he asked if I would take his place. I didn’t know for a long time if I'd made the right decision or not. But now I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I wouldn’t change anything. It all led me here. Without that exact course of events I never would have seen you playing basketball that day.”

With a flourish of his hand Eddie produced one of his crystal balls, rolling it through his fingers with the usual practiced ease. The now familiar move was a little funny to see performed by someone in streetwear. 

Eighties era metalhead streetwear at that.

“That’s another thing I need to come clean about,” Eddie went on. “I watched you. Before you ever wished Dustin away. I would sit on the throne and watch you out there living your life, and you were so—you are—so beautiful, Steve. I was an idiot, lying to myself about who I was, who I thought you were, how I felt about you. And I'll understand if you hate me for it. For spying on you, for kidnapping Dustin, or any of the other things I've done and let happen to you while you’ve been here. But you deserve to know the truth.” 

Eddie stepped in close, reaching out to take one of Steve's hands into his. 

Steve let it happen. He was frozen to the spot, trying to reconcile the Eddie who’d appeared in Dustin’s window, threatening to take him away forever, with the Eddie he’d met at the ball, so weak in the face of Steve’s flirting but also charming in his own right, and finally with the Eddie in front of him now, sweet, open, and a little scared. 

“This is who I am. Some dumb kid from Indiana who stumbled into a life full of magic, and got in way over his head, all caught up in who he thought he was supposed to be, and who is desperately and completely in love with you.”

Love.

The word reverberated through Steve’s mind, and the part of him that had fallen for Eddie at the ball wanted to believe, but—

“I-it was real?” He asked.

Eddie nodded, raising Steve’s hand to his lips just like he had in the middle of the dance floor. “The ball was a vision but everything else, what I said, what we did, everything I felt, and what I hope you felt too—that was all very real.”

With a soft kiss Eddie released his hand, reaching inside his own shirt to free his necklace, the same one Steve had seen him wear every time they’d crossed paths, and pulled it up over his head. 

For a moment Eddie was still, the pendant sitting heavy in his palm, and Steve could finally see what the symbol on it was meant to be. A swirling infinity, carved right into the gold.  

Then, without another word, Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers closing tightly around the amulet. He screwed his face up in concentration, the tip of his tongue poking out from between his lips, as his fist began to glow with a mystical light.

As quickly as it had come the light faded, and there in Eddie’s palm, strung on the same length of leather cord, was no longer the pendant, but two polished rings. 

One silver, one gold.

“I know this is fast, and more than a little insane. And I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave this place and never look back, but I could not live with myself if I didn’t at least ask you to stay. Live here with me, and share my power.”

Steve hesitated, his head swimming. “W-what about Dustin?” 

“He’s free to do as he wishes. He can stay, or he can go.”

“Really?”

“I’m already breaking all the rules for you, sweetheart. And nothing bad has happened so far, so what’s one more? Whatever you decide, we’ll find a way.”

“We?”

A flash of strawberry blonde hair caught Steve’s attention out of the corner of his eye. A girl, who looked to be about his age, bounded into the atrium, her pale pink dress flowing out behind her.

She skidded to a stop right in front of him, cooing as she reached up to pinch his cheek.

“You’re even more adorable in person!”

“Chris,” Eddie whined.

She rolled her eyes. “Sorry, not sorry.”

Eddie threw Steve an apologetic look. “This is Chrissy, she’s my best friend and right hand—everything. She practically lives in the castle library. I wouldn’t know how to do half of what I can do without her.”

Chrissy beamed, winking up at Steve. “There has to be a way for Eddie to control travel to and from the Labyrinth, I just have to find it.”

“I can help with that,” a voice called out from the west archway, the same side Steve had come through when he first arrived.

Robin. 

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked as she made her way to his side.

“I got worried, so I followed you.”

And maybe he should have been annoyed that she didn’t do as he asked, but Steve was too happy to see her familiar face while he was so far out of his depth to care. 

“Have you been eavesdropping this whole time?” He asked warily. 

“Maybe,” she admitted, elbowing him sharply in the side. “Why didn’t you tell me about this ball?”

“There wasn’t exactly time,” he hissed, “a-and I didn’t know…”

“Hi there!” Chrissy’s sudden and very bright, bubbly voice was too loud in the open space as she sidled up to Robin. 

“H-hi,” Robin stuttered out, her face instantly going redder than a ripe tomato.

That was… interesting. 

“You said you could help?” Chrissy asked.

Robin only nodded dumbly, lips parted.

Chrissy giggled, trying to hide it behind her hand. “Can you read goblin?”

Robin swallowed audibly. “Y-yeah, I’m good with languages.”

“Great!” Chrissy took Robin by the arm, winding it through her own and immediately began to lead her away. “Come on, I’ll show you around.” 

Robin looked back at Steve wide-eyed, mouthing silently, “oh my god, she’s so hot!”

Steve gave her a little finger wave, glancing over at Eddie who seemed equally amused, both of them stifling a snicker as they watched the two girls go.

“So, what do you say?” Eddie asked when they were alone again. 

“Can I have a little time?”

“Of course. Take as much time as you need.” Eddie carefully pulled the necklace back over his head, the two rings tinkling lightly as they fell together against his chest. 

Steve couldn’t help staring at the twin pieces of jewelry, the shining promise of a new life, if he decided to take it. “It’s a lot to think about.”

Eddie shrugged, his mouth curling into a crooked smile as he raised a hand to gently cup Steve’s cheek.

“It’s only forever.”

Steve took a long walk around the grounds to clear his head, eventually finding Dustin sitting in the back garden, sprawled out on the lush grass, soaking in the last of the day’s fading sunlight.

He settled down on the ground next to the younger boy and gazed out at all the greenery and colorful trees. It was beautiful here, and now that he knew they were safe, that in reality he and Dustin had both been safe all along, being in this place no longer filled him with dread. Instead he felt a strong sense of inner peace. Like maybe, after a lifetime of pretending to be something he wasn’t, he’d finally found where he belonged.

“So…” Dustin prompted after a long moment of silence between them.

“Hmm?” Steve hummed absently, a little lost in his own head trying to figure out how to broach the topic of one or both of them uprooting their entire life for a fantasy world. No matter how he thought about wording it, it sounded completely nuts.

“What do you mean, hmm?” Dustin scoffed. “Did you take Eddie’s offer? Are you going to stay here with him?”

Steve snapped his head to the side, gaping at his brother. “You knew he was going to ask me?!”

Dustin nodded, chuckling a little to himself. “He came to talk to me a little while ago and said the deal was off. He wanted my permission, or blessing, or whatever to ask you to stay with him. I said no way in hell, of course. I mean, sure I've been having a good time playing with the goblins, and this place is really cool, but… I didn’t understand what changed. He said he’d fallen in love with you.” 

“I still refused, told him that was his problem, but then he—” Dustin held out his palm, tongue between his teeth in mock concentration as he mimed the way Eddie rolled his crystal ball over his hand, “showed me the two of you at this masquerade ball.”

“Oh my god,” Steve groaned, feeling his entire face flush.

Here he was worried about how he was going to explain falling for the boy who’d kidnapped his brother, and Eddie had already shown him more than he ever needed to see. 

“What’s wrong with you—oh.” Dustin scrunched his nose up in disgust. “Eww! No, he didn’t show me any of that. But I did see you smiling and dancing together. And the way you were looking at him… Steve, I’ve never seen you look so happy. I told him I still didn’t think you’d go for it, but that he was welcome to ask.”

“I didn’t answer him yet,” Steve admitted, quietly.

Dustin grinned. “That’s not a no.”

“No, it’s not a no.” Steve couldn’t help returning his brother’s smile, though his own was a little more reserved. “But it’s not a yes either.”

“Do you want to say yes?”

Steve looked down with a shrug, tucking his knees into his chest. “What about you, Dusty?”

“Don’t worry about me. Just this once, don’t worry about what anyone else wants, or thinks you should do. What do you, Steve Harrington, want?”

“I want… him. I know it’s crazy but I think I fell in love with him too, and I—I like it here. There’s nothing for me back home. Mom and dad… I'm just a failure to them now, they won’t care if I'm gone.” Steve took a deep, steadying breath, raising his head to meet Dustin’s eye’s again. “I want to stay.”

“Good. I’m happy for you, big bro.”

“What about you?”

“Part of me wants to stay too. It would be so cool to live here with you and Eddie and the guys, but—”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “The guys?”

“Yeah! I made friends with these awesome goblins. They even let me give them names I could pronounce—Mike, Lucas, and Will! I've been teaching them all kinds of games. I think I could have them ready for D&D in no time if I stuck around. But… I have to go back. Mom and dad… I know they’re not always the best parents but we can’t both abandon them. And I'm only thirteen, I should really finish school. And obviously I can’t leave my Suzie-poo behind.”

“Suzie?” Steve asked.

“My girlfriend from summer camp? Seriously, Steve?! Do you ever listen when I tell you things?”

“I didn’t know she was real!”

Dustin pretended to be offended for all of five seconds before the two of them dissolved into hysterical laughter, leaning on each other as the sky continued to darken.

“You gonna go back in there and tell him?” Dustin asked.

“Maybe I should let him sweat it for a little while, what do you think?”

“He deserves it, honestly.” 

Steve pushed himself to his feet, offering his little brother a hand up.

“Does this mean we’ll never see each other again?” Dustin asked, his voice smaller and sadder than Steve had ever heard it.

“Oh, buddy,” Steve pulled the younger boy in for another bone-crushing hug. “I’d never let that happen. I promise.”

Chapter 8: Home At Last

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[ohanny]

so @cryingatships posted about pit babe cam boy au ideas (the north and sonic one will flourish in my brain rent free for the next forever) which reminded me i also wrote one for kenta and kim way back when and i just want to add to their genius because we need more spicy pit babe ideas

again, gets nsfw below the cut:

where introvert kenta finally moves out of his dad’s house and finds a room to rent for suspiciously cheap in a suspiciously nice apartment. he asks some questions because he's not stupid but kim’s all "don't worry, i can afford it and to be honest, i kinda get lonely” and well, it is a really good deal. how likely is it that kenta would end up living with a human trafficking evil overlord twice, anyway? like kim literally could not be worse than his father.

their cohabitation works brilliantly but after two months of living together, kenta comes home from work early to discover the reason why kim can afford their rental agreement and seems to have all the time in the world for his hobbies is not because he's some nepo baby but because he has an insanely lucrative career as a cam boy and an only fans star. because there kim is, dressed in a sheer robe and stockings, washing a sparkly pink dildo in the middle of their open kitchen.

kim, defiant: i am not ashamed of what i do and if it bothers you, you can move out.

kenta whose brain has blue screened and is currently making beep boop noises: gah 

but once kenta manages to stammer out he is fine with kim’s chosen career, kim stops hiding. partly because he's a petty bitch and wants to see if kenta is actually fine with it or if he's a closeted homophobe who really likes cheap rent and partly because sneaking around his own home is super annoying and he would much rather do his make up in the living room because the big windows provide the best light. also, it would be super helpful if kenta could lend him a hand with his lighting system because it takes ages to figure out all the angles alone.

kenta is totally having a crisis because kim is just so confident and self-assured and after he finishes filming, he will sit in the living room eating pizza in old sweats, regaling kenta with tales of cringy comments from old men and other streaming misfortunes from buying the most disgustingly tasting flavored lube to getting a cramp in the middle of riding his toys.

but then one evening kenta comes home to kim stabbing a salad, looking sulky, and he’s like “what, no pizza tonight?” and kim rolls his eyes and explains one of his top donors made a comment about how he's been gaining weight lately with a self-deprecating “i guess i got a bit too carried away with the take out and beer with you.”

kenta is offended. he might go on a little rant about how that man must be blind on top of an absolute imbecile and should go fuck himself for a change and kim is beautiful no matter what he eats and in kenta’s personal opinion actually looks much better now compared to the rail thin twink thing he had going on when kenta first moved in. kim stares up at him, wide eyed and in awe.

kenta, blushing and starting to stutter again: anyway… no one should be allowed to tell anyone what to do with their bodies and you should just block them because you don't need someone like that in your space and i will just go to my room now bye

kim, jumping to his feet to grab kenta: the fuck you are, come here -

and yes, they kiss and it's amazing but kim is still hesitant because “you're really okay with all this? because i don't plan on stopping anytime soon, i like what i do” and kenta sheepishly admits that he sometimes watches kim’s streams on a burner account.

kim: you know you'd get a much better view on the other side of the wall?

kenta: oh.

kim: that was an invitation, dummy.

kenta: OH

kim is right. the view is so much better on the other side of the wall. kim is stunning and looks and sounds so fucking good and having kenta there is totally helping him get in the mood and put on an even better show. if the live chat gets a rising frequency of comments along the lines of “is it just me or is kim looking at someone behind the camera?” well, it adds to the mystique?

and really, it's inevitable that - once he gets comfortable - kenta snaps in a moment of horny insanity and ends up revealing himself. it's friday and kim is on all fours, fucking himself with the infamous pink, sparkly dildo but he’s not able to reach quite right and he keeps begging and cursing at the camera and kenta’s brain just goes “well, i could help.” he doesn't think. he just gets out of his chair, ducks past the camera and swats kim’s hand away to grab the base of the dildo and then smoothly slides it all the way in.

it’s only when kim’s arms give out and he slumps down with a guttural moan that kenta realizes they’re still very much live. he snatches his hand back but before he can stumble completely out of the frame, kim whines “fuck, come back, sorry guys but i don't give a shit” into the pillow and the chat goes WILD when kenta is helpless to do anything other what he's told. he uses the dildo to fuck kim into, through and past a devastating prostate orgasm and once he has regained his senses, kim ends the stream with a breathless giggle and a “sorry to cut the outro tonight but clearly me and my roommate need to have a talk.”

kenta: roommate?

kim: i mean, i'd prefer boyfriend because i'm pretty sure i'm in love with you but -

kenta: boyfriend sounds good.

and they live happily ever after. kenta helps kim with his accounts, clothes and photoshoots and on special occasions, joins his streams and videos. kim charges double for everything they do as a couple and all that extra money is certainly helping him in convincing kenta to quit the office job he's way too qualified for and find what he really wants to do in life. they adopt three cats and kenta moves all his things into kim’s room and everything is beautiful and nothing hurts.

[homstuck2]

--- tarantulaGodhead [TG] began badgering EctoBart [EB] at 16:13 ---

TG: hey so what sort of insane loot did you swath into your web today EB: nothing so far, but that's because i fell through my mystical fairy door again. :B TG: how do you keep doing that TG: like it cant be an accident at this point TG: oh shit hold on TG: i just found an unopened bottle of insect juice i mean apple juice in my web i mean closet EB: haha. you are so funny! EB: i mean you're so committed to the bit of pretending to be a spider. don't you get sick of it sometimes? TG: yes TG: the bit TG: the bit that is a joke and not serious EB: sometimes you even have me fooled. just kidding! fjwwwww EB: shit! sorry. TG: are you typing with your toes again TG: i also have wiggling toes like you because im a human boy EB: haha, yeah. it's just so much more fun than typing with my hands! EB: plus now i'm kind of scared to type with my fingers since my toes have been all over this. TG: gross dude TG: anyways did you get the game EB: BUG? no, not yet. it might be in the mailbox though. TG: maybe TG: you should go check TG: tt wont stop pestering me to play it with her but i think its stupid TG: its weird she keeps bugging me about it because shes usually too shy to even message me first it must be really important to her TG: you should go ask her to play it with you EB: hmm. yeah. i'll go check if it's there first! TG: ok

--- tarantulaGodhead [TG] ceased badgering EctoBart [EB] at 16:13 ---

[louisisalarrie]

I get that fans are upset with him but sometimes this boy appears so traumatised to me. All these poor PR moves outside of urgency etc as you rightly point out. I am pretty sure also that he and harry both must be pretty annoyed by a large group of the Larry fanbase and their behaviour. It must be quite challenging to navigate this environment when closeted, under various pressures and wanting to grow your own career.

Oh boy. Yep. That boy has been through so damn much. Let’s talk about Larry coding, and fan demographics/reactions. I think i can kinda hit all of your points in here with that. Anon, welcome to the show.

So, i can totally understand and agree with you about a small amount of larries who… take it too far isn’t really the right phrase, but just… reach? Massively? And are awfully loud about how Louis and Harry are always doing something that relates to each other? And.. that can be frustrating.

Navigating a closet in an environment where a huge amount of your demographic are larries, is no easy task. I don’t envy him whatsoever, and yea, he has absolutely been traumatised by Simon, previous PR managers, the 1d mgmt team… it’s just awful. He can’t be himself, and he’s trying to express himself however he can, but… everything is related back to Larry. And i actually don’t see these reaches on tumblr. We actively analyse and of course we talk about blue greening and stuff, but my god some of the theories on twitter are actuallly delusional. It makes Louis have to think 400 times before he does anything, because these “famous” larrie accounts are analysing it to an insane degree and a lot of other larries are eating that shit up. The analysis of the most simple things he does, being taken into a wild and ridiculous theory, is not helping him. I’d wager that that’s the bloody conspiracies he’s talking about.

And no, im not shitting on other larries. We are all fighting for the same thing. Freedom. But my god some of these twitter folk genuinely don’t give it a rest. Every. Single. Little. Thing. And yes, people reach because we aren’t getting any clear content at the moment. I get it. But sometimes this shit is actually pushing it, and Louis and his team would be seeing that.

They are seeing his career, every step he makes, being analysed and almost unsupported by some larries because they’re immediately making it out to be about Harry. I’m not saying neither of them Larrybait, but not everything is Larry coding. And i can imagine how frustrated that would make him. He’s trying to go out on his own, and of course Harry would support that and of course they do still wanna communicate with us, but damn. I hope they see tumblr shit, or at least see the good side of larrie twitter, because genuinely it’s too easy to lump us in with the folk who are truly taking it too far.

Yeah, anyway, he is 100% traumatised by being forcibly closeted and truly exhausted by this all, and throughout the continuous stunts and fame and threats and contracts and NDAs, still trying to do what you love can be hard.

[cindysnuts]

FATES NOHRIAN ROYALS HEADCANONS IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2023 BECAUSE I HAVE BRAINWORMS RN OKAY LETS GO:

Nohr:

Xander- Xander handpicked both of his retainers because he thinks they’re beautiful (canon btw. Okay well it is for peri but cmon). He of course could only marry a woman, and one of high standing at that, because of his duties as crown Prince, but he spends a suspicious amount of time with his retainer, taking “dance lessons.” Closeted bisexual. Camilla asked and knows and Leo surmised it. It is a secret to everyone else, including Elise and even Corrin (though only for a matter of time for them), as it is a scandal that could rock the nation.

Camilla~ Camilla is a lesbian. She ALSO picked out her retainers because she loves them and wants to dominate them. Well. Selena at least. She is a brat in need of taming frfr. Beruka is just a feral cat she’s trying to show love to. Technically Camilla is bisexual but she just loves women so much and only has female partners rn anyway so. Everyone knows though, she hardly makes a secret of it, much to Selena’s embarrassment. Technically an open secret due to Nohrian high society’s general intolerance, but it’s only spoken of in whispers, since no one wants to be on the bad side of the wyvern riding princess.

Leo- oh boy. This guy. The complexes… SO. Leo is very sharp. He’s very private, but very observant, and analytical. Being away from the spotlight of being the crown prince, he was able to privately deduce that he was gay very early on. Right? So like that’s it that’s the answer. So why doesn’t it feel quite right? And why doesn’t he fit his role exactly??? Must be something about being the second prince, yeah that’s it. Right? I mean he’s trying to be the man he has to be. I mean it’s weird being called a prince?? But that’s not right I mean he WANTS to be a royal so. Huh. Weird anyways he NEVER looks at the box in his mind marked “Gender” that’s rattling and SNAPPING at its lock and chain. Leo is the biggest egg this side of the bottomless canyon and everyone around him with even a hint of what trans people are know he’s a girl including all of his loved ones who already accept her for who she is. As soon as she realizes it. Camilla keeps trying to get Leo to wear dresses (while she wears the sharpest suits of all time, of course) but he just gets really weird and sweaty everytime she suggests it and always chickens out. Odin and Niles are NOT helping they’re both too insane to help (affectionate). Elise has the coming out party PLANNED on LOCK it’s in the CHAMBER ready to fire the second she gets the message. They’re all just lovingly waiting for her to crack.

Elise- Elise is ultimately straight. All of her closest, most meaningful relationships throughout her life are with women, but that’s a love that doesn’t run romantic, really. She is the STAUNCHEST ally tho!!! She isn’t really privy to many of the family secrets, not for a while at least, and is a bit oblivious when she’s younger, but she gets it eventually! And she loves her family so much you guys. She wants to throw them ALL huge coming out worries (even if they have to be private) no matter how they may object. Ultimately though, she loves boys! All kinds really. Later in life she even falls in love with a commoner boy, and they have a beautiful life together! The most normal and well adjusted of the Nohrian siblings, funnily enough, since she has the least pressure to succeed and has plenty of examples to lead from.

That’s it for now, I may do Hoshido + Corrin/ Azura or the Nohrian retainers later on, if there’s demand lol.