judesstfrancis

[judesstfrancis]

angel of indian lake by stephen graham jones best coming out scene ever so sorry. imagine you're bleeding from pretty much everywhere, lost an ear, arm barely hanging on, sitting on the front stoop of a fucked up house after your best friend crashed her helicopter into your undead father and killed him for the second time, her husband just died, u guys are sitting on the ashes of the third worst tragedy to happen in your tiny little town and it's not even over yet. just a moment of reprieve in it all. you're like oh hey I like girls I'm sorry and she goes wow. and why didn't I know and you're like well I've been in prison a lot. and idk it never came up. and she's like that's crazy tho like am I not hot enough for u? and u start arguing about slasher movies. and then she says she's sorry she never noticed bc u are so important to her she models herself after u. you're her hero. girl I'd be sobbing

#I in fact AM sobbing #gay people real #text post

[judesstfrancis]

Based on this TikTok

Steve’s always said Eddie’s fingers are magic. Guitarists fingers. Strong and deft, he’s always been better than Steve at anything more precise than getting a basketball through a hoop.

Eddie’s the one who mends their clothes. The one who took apart their stereo and got it working again.

Who, now, has to squint hard when he does any of it.

But those skillful fingers are in Steve’s hair, now. Scratching against his scalp. Massaging the tightness in his neck. And every time Eddie does this it makes Steve drool. Makes his jaw unlock and dribble spit out of the corner of his mouth, makes his eyes close and his spine tingle because this truly has to be recognized as an eighth wonder of the world.

“Fallin’ asleep on me?” Eddie murmurs, above him, and it’s all Steve can do to crack an eye open.

“Feel s’good.” He slurs, and Eddie’s hand shakes as he laughs, adjusting, slightly, to comb a new pattern through his hair.

Steve closes his eyes again. Snuggles deeper into the pillow he’d laid on Eddie’s lap.

Their pillow smells like nothing, because their home—their home—is so familiar to him he can’t smell it, anymore.

His childhood home always smelled like linen.

Eddie’s hand adjusts again, gently twisting hair between his fingers. “You’ve got some grays back here, sweetheart.” He murmurs, not judgmentally, never judgmentally, he says it as fact. One that’s clear to anyone who looks.

Steve mumbles his affirmation, well aware of the cluster of grays sprouting in full force at the crown of his head. “Y’ve seen ‘em before.” He mumbles, and Eddie hums, continuing to twist the strands between his fingers.

“Just,” Eddie starts, voice just above a whisper, “did you ever think it was gonna happen? For us?”

Steve blinks his eyes back open. Comes to a little more at Eddie’s tone and wipes his chin off with his wrist, turning in his love’s lap. The fingers retreat from his scalp and Steve finds Eddie’s hand in the dim glow of their living room, squeezing tight, letting them rest on his chest. It’s a comment on their relationship, forged and cultivated through nearly two decades of friendship, of bone-deep trust and more love than Steve ever saw himself worthy of that not a single part of him is anxious when he asks, “what d’you mean?”

Eddie’s free hand comes to Steve’s temple. Strokes along the grays he is well aware rest there, too, hidden, at the right angle, by his glasses that now lay discarded on the coffee table.

“That we would get to grow old together.” Eddie whispers. And he keeps stroking that cluster of gray, looking as reverently down at Steve now, at forty, as he did at thirty. At twenty. Touches him with all the love he’s always had. Always held. All of the love Steve never thought he would find returned to him in kind, never thinking that his love for someone could be matched, could be held for him in return, but here they are. Eddie loving him with his glasses, his hearing aids, the wrinkles that have begun to creep onto his face and the grays sprouting through the hair he still can’t leave the house without styling, marveling at being able to see it at all.

And as much as Eddie loathes to admit it, being the one who always calls Steve the vain one, he can see the beginnings of Eddie’s own hairline beginning to recede. The start of wrinkles on his forehead. How his curls have grown wispier. But Steve doesn’t think there’s anything more beautiful than the visible reminder of their years shared.

And yeah. Steve gets it, now. They weren’t exactly counting on a tomorrow for a couple of years, there.

Steve kisses the back of Eddie’s hand, the scar tissue that’s still raised and puckered, even after all these years. “I’m glad it’s with you.” Steve murmurs back.

Eddie’s hand moves again. Begins scratching at the top of his head. “Wouldn’t want it with anyone else.” Eddie finishes.

They don’t say what they both know to be true. That neither of them would have made it here without the other. That without Eddie Steve may never have left Hawkins. That without Steve Eddie would never have made it out of the Upside Down. That either of those fates would have killed them, in the end. That without each other their lives would have followed paths so very different than the one they’re on. A path that still prickles the back of Steve’s neck to think about.

A path that will, thankfully, never happen.

Steve closes his eyes again. Turns into the pillow that smells like nothing while Eddie’s fingers resume tracing patterns through his silvering hair.

Tomorrow they’ll both be a day older. They will both have more grays. Steve’s back is going to hurt because he spent too long lying on this couch and Eddie’s bad knee is going to ache because he scratched the headache from Steve’s scalp instead of doing his exercises.

But they’ll always do it together.

✨Tag List✨

@hotluncheddie @hitlikehammers @hbyrde36 @littlewildflowerkitten @chaotic-waffle @westifer-dead @perseus-notjackson @theheadlessphilosopher @spectrum-spectre @itsall-taken @marvel-ous-m @bookworm0690 @acasualcrossfade

#😭😭 #good fics

[judesstfrancis]

Someone: yeah it was so sad when this character died

Me, who’s already read 15 fix-it fics and no longer can tell the difference between canon and fanon: when they what

[judesstfrancis]

no more gay period films abt aristocracy!!!show me stories abt flamboyant farmboys and butch milkmaids!!!🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

[judesstfrancis]

Playoffs mood when my team wins vs loses one (1) game

#hockey blogging

[judesstfrancis]

i need a job at the making characters factory

[judesstfrancis]

[judesstfrancis]

The end of this season has GOT to be everyone hunting Sam for sport

[judesstfrancis]

absolutely devastating the normie guy I accidentally got attached to in my horror book DIED. sad

#former hs jock who teams up with the former hs goth weird girl to save the town from a haunted lake save me.... #had not been expecting it also bc he killed off the guy that this guy replaced last book so I was like. #surely they wouldn't kill the same guy TWICE. but they did #text post

[judesstfrancis]

you ever read someones headcanon for your favorite character and its so shit you start seeing spiders

[judesstfrancis]

[judesstfrancis]

they should invent a type of kiss that is on my lips right now

[judesstfrancis]

worship.

#I am. thinking

[judesstfrancis]

im doing a little series for lesbian visibility week of my favorite lesbian music artists, so heres everyones favorite midwest princess

[judesstfrancis]

I hate work I should be at the (remembers I don't want to go to the club) the imagination

[judesstfrancis]

hey sorry we put your players in a time loop. yeah they can only win by learning, and they can only learn by playing. yeah grant o’brien is carboloading next to their podiums. yeah they know that x equals 8 so y must equal 6. no they can’t use the ladder. yeah now they’re doing the wenis. sorry. 

[judesstfrancis]

happy playoffs to all who celebrate

#hockey blogging