Latest Posts by sielutonlampikana - Page 7

The years go by. The retail jobs that Steve thinks are temporary keep piling up, but he has no idea what else to do with his life so he just keeps on keeping on.

Until a large tree falls on the lawn of the little house he managed to buy and he gets the quote on removal and the number literally hurts his soul.

He buys a small chainsaw instead. Over the course of a few weeks, he gets most of the branches cut up. He collects some large rocks from down by the quarry and digs out a fire pit in his backyard. On his days off, his friends come over and they sit out back and have a few beers. The pile of wood dwindles. The giant trunk is another story though. His chainsaw isn't big enough for it. Burning it would take forever, and Steve's terrified he'd disappoint Smoky the Bear. He's at a loss.

Until he sees another giant trunk in someone's yard carved into a bear.

He knows what to do then. Not a bear, but something else. Through trial and error, the trunk becomes the rough shape of a woman, the remnants of the branches like a crown on her head. It's not as amazing as the bear he saw, but it's his. He finds he loves the smell of sawdust and the feeling of creating something.

Just like that, Steve realizes what he wants to do. It takes several months and a lot of yard sales, but he scrounges up the tools he needs to start woodworking. He learns to measure twice and cut once. He makes tables and chairs and carves them with art and designs that get better and better the more he learns. Shockingly, people actually buy his pieces.

Even more shocking comes the realization that he's making enough money to do it full time. He puts in his two weeks notice at Melvald's and hands in his assistant manager badge.

He's not sure he's happy, but he is content. It feels good to work hard and actually have things to show for it. It also feels good to work muscles he hasn't used since high school. He carries on for a few years like that, creating and learning and creating some more. Then Eddie Munson blows back into town. Invited back so Hawkins can have their most famous alumnus sing the national anthem at homecoming. Steve's honestly surprised he shows at all. "Can't believe you didn't tell them kiss your hairy ass," Steve says. Because of course Eddie ends up around his fire pit, sipping on Steve's cheap beer like he doesn't have three Grammy awards on his mantel. The years fall away with each drink, reminding Steve of just how much it had hurt when Eddie left. He'd wanted Eddie so bad back then, more than he'd ever wanted anyone. He can feel the echoes of that deep ache across time.

"Pfft. Don't you know all famous people wax our asses now? All the rage in LA." Eddie cuts a look at him and smirks when Steve rolls his eyes, grateful for the lighthearted moment to snap him out of his maudlin nostalgia. "Really though I thought about it, but then I thought it would be way funnier to donate a metric fuckton of money to Hawkins High with the stipulation that it go to the theater and band programs. Kind of bummed they couldn't honor my other request though."

"Which was?"

"My old Hellfire throne. I miss her, but apparently she's not around anymore. Something about water damage."

"Oh yeah. Water main busted a few years back and flooded the theater. I remember that." "Yeah. Had to settle for the promise they'd make a game lounge and stock it with all the supplies a budding young nerd needs."

"That's really nice, Eds."

Eddie shrugs. "I've been known to be nice on occasion. You'll come to homecoming, right? Moral support?"

Steve hasn't been to homecoming in years because he sees the other people who stayed in town all the time, and he has no interest in seeing the people who didn't. He can only answer the same questions so many times. Oh, I'm doing woodwork now. Yep, I still live right here. Nope, still not married, no kids.

He goes though, and he answers the uncomfortable questions. Because Eddie asked him to. Because no matter how long it's been, Steve can't deny that some part of him still...

He says goodbye after, and Eddie leaves again, and Steve tries not to think about that too much in the following days.

He's halfway into the project before he realizes what he's building. He'd seen Eddie's throne quite a few times back when. What he doesn't have memories of, he makes up. He adds his own touches too, making it a throne fit for a rock star, a nerd, a friend.

He carves ornate patterns, he creates scenes of dragons being beaten back by a man with a guitar, crowds of people that could be knights or concertgoers.

It's his favorite piece he's ever done, and his hands are shaking when he dials Eddie's number. He gets an answering machine and stumbles through a message.

"I made you something. I guess it's kind of silly, but it's here in Hawkins if you want it. Or I'm sure you can afford the shipping if you don't want to come. Just, I made you a chair. It's more of a... Well, you'll see. Unless you don't want to... It's Steve by the way." He hangs up before he can embarrass himself even more.

Eddie doesn't call him back. One day passes and then another. Steve tries not to let it get to him. He works on orders and new projects. He enjoys his little backyard oasis. He rents a few movies and thinks they're okay.

He's debarking some wood in his driveway when the rental car pulls up, Eddie stepping out in ripped jeans and an old Metallica tee. "Hi again, Stevie."

"Oh." Steve clears his throat. "The thing's in the garage. I'll..."

Eddie doesn't say anything for a long time, circling the throne, running his tattooed fingers over each little detail.

"You made this whole thing?"

"I did."

"For me?" Eddie looks at him then, one hand still touching the wood like he doesn't want to let go. Even under the harsh lights of the garage, his eyes are such a warm shade of brown that Steve forgets to breathe.

He nods. "For you."

"Why?"

There are a hundred answers Steve could give, but he spent so long not knowing who he was or who he wanted to be. Too long. "Because you'll always be the one that got away. Because some part of me will always want to make you smile no matter how long it's been."

Eddie falls into the throne like he just got the wind knocked out of him.

"You don't have to respond to that," Steve says. "You can just say thank you and take the chair."

"I can." Eddie blows out a breath. "But that would be incredibly stupid considering half my early ballads are about you."

"What?" Unfair. Steve doesn't have a chair to fall into.

"Oh sure, I changed the hes to shes for a while there because..." Eddie waves his hand. "But they're about you, Steve. God, I should've asked you out. I just thought..."

Hearing those words is a lot like seeing that carved bear all over again, something clicking into place that wasn't quite right before.

"Go out with me now then," Steve says. "Or stay in. I've got a frozen lasagna and I rented Contact."

"Steve Harrington? Asking Eddie 'the Freak' Munson on a date? Did hell freeze over?"

"Pfft." Steve takes a step closer toward what he wants most. "Hell froze over in 1986, Eddie. You were there."

Five months and a lot of long distance phone bills later, Steve opens Harrington Woodworking in Los Angeles. That same day, Eddie takes photos for Rolling Stone posing in an ornate throne in his living room. He tells the reporter exactly who made it and what he means. At concerts, he starts singing those ballads the way he always wanted to. More often than not, Steve stands in the wings singing along.

— jack veasey, “loving”

i don’t usually bully my boyfriend on the internet but

Thinking about it, I’m pretty sure my ancestors would be horrified with me.

Not because I’m lazy or unworthy or anything like that…

…but because one of my distant uncles was among the eight survivors of the Essex, the ship that inspired the ending of Moby Dick and sank after being rammed by a whale, and what do I fuckin do after my bloodline has this Ordeal at Sea?

I get a fuckin degree in Marine Science and go back the fuck out there.

being a jew studying preholocaust european jewish history is just *mourns over what could have been, mourns over what could have been, mourns over what could have been, mourns over what could have been, mourns-*

lots of artists can fill their work with aching homosexual tension, but no one else can make the impending sodomy look quite as classy and exquisitely dressed as Leyendecker can. God bless you, sir.

So I’ve probably told this story before, but - my Gay and Lesbian Studies professor. He’s fairly elderly; he was young in the ‘60s. And he was called up for draft for the Vietnam War. And, like most everybody who was drafted for the Vietnam War, he didn’t want to be in the Vietnam War.

This is the story of how his draft went, as best as I can remember how he tells it.

“Well, son,” said the doctor assigned to do his physical. “You seem healthy from here. Is there any condition you have that would disqualify you from serving in the United States Army?”

“Yes, sir,” said my professor. “I’m gay.”

The doctor blinked at him.

Looked at the door.

Looked back.

“Do you understand what you’re telling me? Do you understand what this means?”

What this meant, in 1969, was that he would be sent home, with the information given to everyone in his hometown about exactly why he had been sent home. It meant he would be disowned by his family. It meant he could pretty much never get a job again. And this was decades before Lawrence v Texas, so it also meant he could very well get arrested.

But, you see, my professor had already been outed. And all these things had already happened.

So “yes, sir,” he said.

“Are you absolutely positive?”

“Yes, sir. My boyfriend is waiting for me outside. Would you like us to demonstrate?”

My professor did not go to Vietnam.

Read that last sentence again

literally no dermatologist on earth says acne is caused by bad hygeine/lack of a skincare routine btw. its genetic. every single piece of research ever done on acne says its genetic. feel like i need to restate this every time i see a post about skincare

Gotham as a collective: beating up people for money is normal but beating up Bruce Wayne for money is like kicking a confused golden retriever puppy, bad and wrong, doesn't understand what's happening or why you're being mean

When I actually be studying/doing assignments I wasted my time on this-

Anyway enjoy-

the finnish language is so beautiful. years of linguistic evolution has given finnish youth access to the absolutely devastating comeback of "mutsis oli ku sua teki" which translates to "yo moma was, when she was makin you" except it flows perfectly smoothly in the finnish language.

it is the most used phrase in every finnish middle and high school

reblog to give warm bread to your mutuals

no because where the fuck did mike get the poster. like this was before the days of ordering posters online and having them shipped to your house and then offering your parents to go get the mail so they wouldnt see you bought something. mike wheeler had to go to a store to buy it. and he doesnt have a job, so how did he pay for it? his allowance maybe? but who drove him to the store to get it? you really think he went with his mom? was it maybe nancy? who would be able to clock him faster? were they with him in the check out? what fucking store sold this even? what did the cashier say when they saw it? i have so many questions it's unreal

Are you a "Mike pays special attention to how much Will talks" truther or a "Will is much more talkative around Mike" truther?

He’s on an adventure 🌧️🐱

pastel mugs

litany against the GOTification of history.

Please read the whole thing.  

Now I will argue that Batman’s motivations (protecting the innocent), level of preparedness, and the fact that he doesn’t kill people, put him miles above the current uniformed fascists charged with maintaining the status quo and protecting property. That being said I think this would be an innovative take on the Batman mythos, and have social commentary guaranteed to piss the wrong people (by which I mean the right people) right off.  Personally I’d watch the shit out of that. 😉

no but really why does mike get blamed for every little thing it's not funny anymore. why is he inherently more culpable than the rest of them. why is he the one they always expect to know everything. why does he usually actually know everything or have the key to figuring it out. why is he personally responsible for any given disagreement even when 3+ people are involved and all acting out of line not just him. why is he the heart why is he the bad guy why why why

dustin when mike improvs the tiniest thing in existence as a weapon in self defence against his new pet: DON'T HURT HIM!!!

dustin when steve improvs an oar as a weapon in self defence against his new friend: don't worry! steve'll get him with his oar :)

it's not even that dustin didn't think eddie was a threat while dart was cause he thought dart was his little meow meow at that point. he thought it was unnecessary both times. he just respects mike more when he's in Protection Mode. although i do think he learned not to mock steve pretty quick after the "almost got his throat slit immediately after being mocked for being cautious" incident cause steve grabbed that lamp at the school and there wasn't a WORD said about it (even after "I COULD'VE TAKEN YOU OUT WITH THIS LAMP")

any time someone says "you really think they'd make mike lie in his speech to eleven? how are they going to address that in season five then? 🙄" i have to laugh. as if the villain of this story isn't someone that literally and specifically targets people who feel shame and guilt and lie LMAO

this is dean winchester canonically in a therapy session like this is literally how he acts in canon in therapy i cannot stress enough that this caption is not out of context he’s literally in therapy in this scene

DC Twitter must have been INSANE when it got out that Superboy’s dads were Superman and Lex Luthor. Holy shit. The memes. The ship wars. The homophobes. The mpreg jokes. People would have lost their fucking minds. Lex Luthor releases a statement like “he’s a clone of me and Superman no birth was involved” and people are like KINDA GAY OF YOU TO HAVE A SON WITH ANOTHER MAN, LUTHOR. Lexcorp’s PR team locks themselves in a conference room and refuses to come out for love or money.

We don’t appreciate the fact that Bruce Wayne is a Kardasian level celebrity enough. Everyone knows him. I want more one shots and crack fic moments where the League (Pre identity reveals) just openly talk about Bruce Wayne in front of Batman.

Just imagine them playing fuck, marry, kill with famous actors and such and throwing Bruce into the mix. And Batman just sits there, silently suffering as he listens to the reasons why Flash and Lantern would marry, fuck, or kill him. He prays they choose kill. They don’t.

lots of people seem to forget strikes are SUPPOSED TO negatively impact the economy and inconvenience people. that's how you force the company to give into your demands. it's hitting them where it hurts hardest--their profit.

im actually so mad merlin was a family show bc merlin would have had sworn like a fucking sailor if they had let him