Because They All Love And Hate Each Other To Varying Degrees Like Patrick Loves Tennis And Tashi And

this was so fantastic

Hi, so I wrote a little fic, and I posted it. I gave it to Dani, she laughed at it, I asked if I should edit it, she said "fuck it we ball"

The entire fic will be below the cut because it's short enough to post here, but if you'd like to leave comments or kudos, it is also posted on my AO3. It's only 1k words.

Dress Up As...

This is the stupidest party they have ever thrown. They know that.

This was the stupidest party they had ever thrown, and they all knew it. No one was sure whose idea it had originally been, and no one was quite brave enough to own up to it. But it was their last party at Hillerska — their last third years’ party — and it seemed like a pity to go out without throwing at least one entirely stupid blowout. 

The theme was truly very simple: Dress Up Like… 

Throughout the entire week before, each third year had one at a time drawn a card out of a hat to find out what or who they would be dressing up as for the party. Every person had a different theme. No one should or would be dressed for the same party. In theory, that’s what made it fun. 

What made it decidedly not fun was the fact that no one was allowed to redraw their theme. Once the card was in their hand, they could not switch with anyone or draw a second theme. That factor made the whole thing more than a little stressful. Because not everyone had the clothes they needed just lying around. Some of them had even resorted to stealing from First Years just to complete their looks. 

But now it was the night of the party, and one by one they started to trickle in, costumes ready and on full display.

Some were better than others. 

Henry wore a black tank top and bright green basketball shorts, chunky sneakers and a backward baseball cap. The entire night, he carried around a can of beer and would randomly start shouting about his human rights. Dress Up Like… An American. 

Walter, his ever present counterpart, looked truly ridiculous. More so than usual. He showed up in short-shorts and a crop top, an LED flower crown sitting pretty atop his head. He had a mesh shawl overtop that went farther down than his pants did, and somehow he had managed to find what could only be described as cowboy boots. Dress Up Like… A Pinterest Girlie. 

Stella wore a baby pink nightgown with a fairy pattern and clearly not matching blue bunny slippers. She had her hair tied up into pigtails and she was carrying around a worn-in looking stuffed bear. She was drinking her alcohol through a sippy-cup and every once in a while switched to suck on a lollipop. Dress Up Like… A Five-Year-Old. 

Fredrika had it (arguably) the easiest out of all of them. She was quite literally wearing a bedsheet that she’d pinned into a toga and some sandals she’d managed to find on short notice. She’d gone the extra step to make herself a wreath for her hair, but pretty much everyone was mad at her for her lucky draw. Dress Up Like… An Ancient Roman. 

Alexander had somehow gotten his hands on neon spandex. He went all out for his costume, even finding someone to give him a perm. There was a neon sweatband on his head that had “mysteriously” gone missing from the locker room a week ago. He’d completed his look with sunglasses that were too big for his face and Henry’s orange wrist-watch. Dress Up Like.. The 80s. 

Madison wore a muscle tank and tight biker shorts. She was carrying around a big bin of vanilla protein powder and every time someone asked her a question she would respond with “do you even lift, bro?” She’d gone as far as to draw on faint mustache hairs and no one was actually sure if she was kidding about having bought into cryptocurrency as a way to commit to the bit. Dress Up Like… A Gym Bro. 

Sara had spent all week stressing about her costume, only to give in and ask Henry if she could borrow his tuxedo. The one she knew he had just lying around because it was Henry, and of course he had a tuxedo lying around. She’d stolen a ring box from Simon to keep in her pocket, as well, and she had found a top hat somewhere in their mother’s box of old Halloween costumes. Dress Up Like… A Groom. 

It was a lucky coincidence that Felice was her counterpart in all of that. They looked ridiculous, but at least they looked ridiculous together. Felice had taken the time to go to the thrift store in Bjärstad for her costume, though. Not even the students of Hillerska had wedding dresses lying around. She was able to find one for relatively cheap, too, and it had come with a veil. The dress was nice if you pretended it wasn’t from the 70s and ignored the suspicious stain. Sara had gotten her a bouquet to really sell the look. Dress Up Like… A Bride. 

Wilhelm had borrowed his entire outfit from Felice. It was a blue dress and some gold jewelry. Nothing too scandalous, though he was still sure Jan-Olof’s heart would fail if he saw it. They still hadn’t told him about Wille piercing his ears yet. Wilhelm had opted to wear his own shoes for the night, as much as Felice begged him to try out high heels. He’d promised her he’d try another time when he wouldn’t have to commit to an entire night in them whilst slightly drunk. Dress Up Like… Your Best Friend.

It was Simon that truly caught everyone’s eye, though. With the exception of a long coat and scarf that they knew wasn’t his, he looked like he wasn’t dressed up at all. Everything he wore was seemingly something he wore every day. A sweatshirt and jeans, converse and a silver chain hanging around his neck. 

“Oh, come on, Simon! You could have at least tried,” Fredrika called out, somehow already tipsy despite the party having just started. 

“I’m dressed up,” Simon said. He shrugged off the coat and scarf before depositing himself in Wilhelm’s lap. 

It was an obvious lie. 

“Simon, you wear that all the time,” Henry pointed out. 

Simon nodded, running his fingers through the hairs on the back of Wille’s head. “Yes, I do, and I’m still dressed up.” 

Wilhelm looked like the cat who caught the canary and, most of the time, the rest of them would take that as a clue to just accept Simon’s words as truth and move on. But not tonight. No, they had all made asses of themselves trying to commit to this stupid ass party plan and they would be damned if Simon ruined it. They would force him to go home and change if they had to. They’d drag him by the ear back to Bjärstad and stand guard until he emerged looking just as idiotic as the rest of them.

“I would bet all the money in my wallet that you are not dressed up properly,” Walter said. It would have been a serious threat, too, had he not looked so ridiculous. 

“Are you sure about that?” Simon asked, a smirk tugging at his lips. 

“I’d like to join in this bet!” Maddie declared, pulling her wallet out of her waistband. And, soon, they were all betting some kind of money on the fact that Simon had not properly committed to their stupid plan. 

Wilhelm didn’t say a word. He just sat back with a smug look on his face as Simon got all of his friends to bet him a small fortune. He, of course, knew what Simon was supposed to be dressed up as. He, of course, knew Simon was about to be several thousand kronor richer. 

When everyone had placed their bets on the table, his own sister included, Simon pulled his card out of the coat he’d earlier discarded. He knew they were going to challenge him on his costume. He’d come prepared for this. 

He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter, though it was difficult with Wilhelm’s arms wrapped tightly around his stomach. “Everything I’m wearing — boxers included — is something Wilhelm has, at some point, stolen from me,” he announced. He threw his card down on top of the make-shift money pot and then leaned back into his boyfriend with a satisfied smirk. “Read it and weep, bitches.” 

Dress Up As… Royalty.

les mis my love

reblog if the first musical you listened to was not Hamilton

tag yourself i’m nick 💀

it’s finally here! the personality quiz TIME magazine voted ‘worst in show 2022′…

what bears in trees member are you?

and if you get rid of every depressed scrawny british boy hopelessly in love with his best friend, who's going to be the glue to your fucked up little maze experiments, ava paige?

i love them so much

introducing: south london's PREMIERE dirtbag boyband...

bears in trees.

the funniest thing i have seen all day 💀💀

Malin, teaching Wilhelm how to drive: You see August and Marcus walking in the middle of the street. What do you hit?

Wille: Um… Well. I mean, I hate them both, so- Malin: The BRAKES. You hit the brakes!

Simon, eating a satsuma in the backseat: Hit the gas, Wille.

rocker eddie/actor steve | exes to lovers | fame au p6 (final part)

p1 p2 p3 p4 p5 interlude

Steve thinks about second chances, as he walks along Greenwich Ave. He thinks about them when he tosses the wig in a garbage can that reeks of puke. 

And he thinks about them, when Eddie opens the door, eyes catching on the rip in Steve’s jeans, the liner under his eyes. When he lights up & says, “You came.”

Yeah, Steve thinks about second chances.

He offers Eddie a small smile as he walks in, can’t bring himself to acknowledge it all. The world of them. Him going. Eddie playing that song.  What that could mean, like, actually mean. Can’t do it yet.

He likes this place better than the mansion in LA. It’s messy and grungy with stupid, corny shit plastered on the walls. Feels more… Eddie.

They walk out to the balcony. It overlooks a tiny little green space, his neighbors’ homes. Eddie lights a cigarette and offers one to Steve. Steve quit years ago. Eddie knows that now. He takes it anyway. 

“Last tour I sold out Madison Square Garden and now I sell out Forest Hills.” Eddie’s chuckling, “Like I’m back at the trailer park.”

Eddie’s third album didn’t do the numbers his first two had. So they’d downsized, just a little.

Steve sighs, he didn’t fly all the way out here to coddle his ex, “It was a good show, Eddie.” 

“Yeah.” He drags, smiles to himself. “It was a really good show. I’m really glad you saw it, baby.”

Steve cringes, full body shiver. Eddie doesn’t seem to realize what he said, Steve’s sure as hell not gonna clue him in.

“How’d your meeting go?”

Steve tries to play it off. “Good. Pretty good.”

Eddie chuckles again, leans into him that way he always does, like personal space is more of a suggestion than a boundary. A hand brushes his cheek, a light, teasing tap of knuckles, “What’s pretty good, Harrington?”

Steve smiles into it. Can’t help it. “There’s uh… you know that blacklist script I mentioned last month? There’s probably a lead there for me.”

Eddie lights up again, bright and true, “Steve, that’s amazing.”

Steve snorts, “Not jealous?”

“Nah, I’m happy for you ba-” Eddie catches it this time, chokes on his drag, coughs and flounders, “Happy for you, man.” 

Steve’s not sure if he can do this, actually. Can’t face this Eddie. The one whose ego isn’t a storm cloud, who’s okay failing, who’s okay seeing him succeed. Who’s honest and sincere and wants the best for him. Eddie who would lose thousands of fans just to sing Steve’s favorite song. 

Eddie’s eyes are shiny, “But you’ve been good?”

“Yeah, yeah. Good. Keeping busy. I filmed an Amex commercial. Good money. Made my agents happy.” He’s rambling around it. He squints into the dark, drops it casually as he can muster. “I’m gonna start seeing that country singer, probably. The one with that Kansas song? Our people are setting something up.”

Eddie’s face falls, the sun out with a sentence. “What are we doing here, Harrington?”

Steve’s tone is bleary, sheepish, “What?”

“Been losing my mind this last month. Can’t stand not having you around. But you- you’re dating?”

It’s a shrug, it’s all he's got, “Sure.”

Eddie’s hunched, shoulders tight. He talks small. “You told me you loved me. Before you left.”

Steve huffs a breath. The air is cold. “C’mon. You were like, obliterating my brain with your dick. I say impulsive shit like that all the time.”

He doesn’t. They both know that. 

Eddie clicks his teeth, shakes a whisper. “Nah. You don’t.”

Steve falters, trips on his tongue. He finds his voice low and hoarse, he can barely say it, “Please don’t hold me to it.” 

Eddie won’t look him in the eye. He blinks up at the sky, “I love you. For the record. I um, I never stopped. Guess I’ve been pretty obvious about it.”

“Eddie, c’mon. Don’t do this. It’s not fair.”

“Date Dorothy.” His laugh is glacial. “I don’t mind. It won’t be real, right? Those things never fucking are.”

“I don’t know– it could be.” The ground’s falling under Steve’s feet. “Down the line, or whatever.”

Something cracks, crumples. “I had you. God fucking damnit. I had you and I–”

Steve’s not expecting the sobs until they happen. Flemmed and shaky and pathetic. Those brown eyes silver-wet like moons. 

Eddie pushes his palms into his cheeks. “Sometimes, after you leave, I just stare up at the ceiling and try to invent like, time travel or something. Just to go back and slap the shit outta myself. I was a goddamn coward. Couldn’t face it. Could talk around it, sure. Write it into my songs like that was honest. But, nah, I couldn’t look in the mirror. Definitely couldn’t look at you. I’m facing it now. I need you to know that. It won’t fix all shit I did, won’t fix the stupid fucking way I tried to fix it the first time. It’s there, it’s out, hell, it’s goddamn double platinum.” He sputters it out miserable, “But I am trying. Even if this– if we can’t. Need you to know I’m facing it now. I want to be better.”

Then Eddie looks right at him, looks at Steve like looking is enough to break his heart. “And I don’t wanna be selfish anymore cause it’s poison, Steve. But fuck. I know I don’t deserve it but if you’ll have me, I’ll– I’m there. Whatever way you’ll take me.”

“Eddie.” Steve doesn’t know why he’s here. Why he keeps digging this wound, ripping out stitches.

“Please? Can’t walk away again. Don’t have it in me.”

“Yeah.” Steve laughs. “You only do that when it’s easy.”

Eddie flinches. Shoves a ringed hand into a pocket. “Too late, huh?”

Steve scratches the back of his head and turns on his heel, “We can’t keep doing this.”

He gets as far the kitchen. Eddie quicksteps in front of the counter, blocks his out. But he’s cowering, ducking his head. “Did you um, like the song?”

It swells up all at once, that bone-deep cruelty of it. A gust turned tsunami. “Not really, Ed. Kinda broke my fucking heart.”

“Shit,” Eddie clicks. “Yeah, I, um, I’m not all that good at the grand gesture thing. Probably should have figured that out by now.”

Steve lets it all in. The red that’s been thrumming through his body since this whole thing started. Lets it possess him. He pushes into Eddie’s space, callous and cruel. “You’re really fucking me up, here. Do you know that?”

“I– I’m not trying to.” Eddie blinks. Frustratingly earnest. 

“What we’re doing– Whatever this is. It makes me feel pathetic. I’d be the dumbest asshole on the planet if I took you back.” He’s screaming now. The balcony door is still open. He doesn’t care if anyone hears. He wants them to hear.

Eddie’s lip is shaking. “I’m sorry.”

“I hate you.” Steve murmurs. The red’s coming off in whisps, quicker than it ever had, easier than it should. 

Eddie’s smile is weak. His face is wet. “I know.”

“You ruined me.” He leans in, finds half a punch in it. Last one he’s got. 

Eddie closes his eyes, brow furrowed. “I know.”

“I don’t want anyone else.” He’s tired. Bone tired. Tired of the ache that only ever seems to go away around, well–

Eddie’s guilt is plain. It's all of him. “I’m sorry.”

Steve takes a breath. He thinks about second chances.

“You really want to be with me?”

Eddie looks at him like he’s already burrowed in. Ribs and guts and blood. “Got my priorities way out of whack for a minute there. Jesus, way too many minutes there. But yeah. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.  You’re it for me, Stevie.”

Steve groans, taps his forehead lightly against a shelf. Eddie’s hand lands steady at his arm, awkward and cautious and right. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

“No.” Eddie says soft. “You’re not.”

“Yeah, I am.” Steve shakes his head. Waves a finger into Eddie’s chest. “You sang Dave fucking Matthews.”

“Don’t remind me, man. They’re gonna start shattering my CDs.” He pauses, sincere as ever. ‘I, uh, wouldn’t take it back though.”

Steve groans again, presses his head into Eddie’s shoulder. “No, you don’t get it. You sang Dave Matthews and now I’m gonna have to call my team and tell them it’s not gonna happen with the country singer.”

Eddie blubbers, big Saturday morning cartoon recalibration. “You’re– what?”

Steve shrugs, catches his eye. “Now I’m gonna have to talk about my coming out journey with Angie at People and dude, she’s been on my ass about it for years. Total sore winner.”

He’s shaking his head, “Harrington… Steve. Stevie.”

But Steve keeps rattling on, “I’m gonna have to tip off the paparazzi that Dark Pines star Steve Harrington was spotted sneaking into Eddie Munson’s brownstone at midnight for a secret rendezvous. Gonna have to go for a jog around the block first thing tomorrow, with like, more hickeys than a teen who just got their first girlfriend.”

“You’ve really thought about this, huh?”

Eddie’s back pushes into the edge of the kitchen counter. And Steve thinks about that photo that forced them together again, about Eddie’s easy grin, about the soft adoration high on his cheeks, about never being so young. He thinks about fucking up and growing up and growing apart and changing. And he smiles against chapped lips that taste like cigarettes and coming home.

And he says, “Gonna have to find someone to give me the hickeys.”

And Eddie lights up like the sun, “I know a guy.”

And Steve, well, he thinks about second chances. 

obsessed with this letterboxd review for CHALLENGERS (2024) by rocky/WAYSTIAR

i adore this with my whole heart actually

SPEAK NOW (TAYLOR’S VERSION) + STRANGER THINGS part one || part two

innocent. willel

Time turns flames to embers || You'll have new Septembers || Every one of us has messed up, too || Minds change like the weather || I hope you remember || Today is never too late to be brand new

haunted. lucas

Come on, come on, don't leave me like this || I thought I had you figured out || Something's gone terribly wrong || Won't finish what you started || Come on, come on, don't leave me like this || I thought I had you figured out || Can't breathe whenever you're gone || I can't go back, I'm haunted

last kiss. steve

So I'll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep || And I feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe || And I'll keep up with our old friends just to ask them how you are || Hope it's nice where you are || And I hope the sun shines and it's a beautiful day || And something reminds you you wish you had stayed || You can plan for a change in the weather and time || But I never planned on you changing your mind

long live. the party

Long, long live the walls we crashed through || How the kingdom lights shined just for me and you || And I was screaming, "Long live all the magic we made" || And bring on all the pretenders, I'm not afraid || Singing, "Long live all the mountains we moved" || I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you || And long, long live that look on your face || And bring on all the pretenders || One day, we will be remembered

ours. ronance

So don't you worry your pretty little mind || People throw rocks at things that shine || And life makes love look hard || Don't you worry your pretty little mind || People throw rocks at things that shine || But they can't take what's ours || They can't take what's ours || The stakes are high, the water's rough || But this love is ours

when emma falls in love. nancy

‘Cause she's the kind of book that you can't put down || Like if Cleopatra grew up in a small town || And all the bad boys would be good boys || If they only had a chance to love her

castles crumble. steve

Once, I was the great hope for a dynasty || Crowds would hang on my words and they trusted me || Their faith was strong, but I pushed it too far || I held that grudge 'til it tore me apart || Power went to my head and I couldn't stop || Ones I loved tried to help, so I ran them off || And here I sit alone behind walls of regret || Falling down like promises that I never kept

foolish one. will

But then the voices say, "You are not the exception || You will never learn your lesson, foolish one || Stop checking your mailbox for confessions of love that ain't never gonna come || You will take the long way, you will take the long way down || Foolish one || Stop checking your mailbox for confessions of love that ain't never gonna come || You will have to learn the hard way instead of walking out"