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#also they're gay
mrdraws · 8 months
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New Lancer dinguses! Midge is the pilot, and SAM is the AI they're paired with who inhabits the mech. Midge is very quiet, I'm thinking, and SAM is just homicidal af lol
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sad-gay-cowboy · 3 months
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I updated my second chapter of The Shows Only Just Beginning!!!
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the-crow-binary · 1 year
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Top 10 reasons why Isaac and Grant would smash:
1-Isaac has a whole aesthetic with skulls, and pirates (wich Grant is) have skulls on their flags. They'd bond over skull aesthetic.
2-They're both slutty, letting their tiddies out at all times without a care in the world
3-They both crush on Trevor because who wouldn't crush on him
4-They both fought Trevor at least once
5-No one ever called them pretty :( They relate to each other on that.
6-Grant was turned into a monster once, and Isaac takes care of (his) monsters
7-Dracula changed both their lives in one way or another
8-They both decided to get under the command of some pretty boy they very much simp for (Trevor for Grant, Dracula for Isaac)
9-They have both been game bosses.
10-They're both rebels who don't fit in society.
Thanks for coming to my ted talk.
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nahwe · 2 years
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new blog, reposting old art
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luffyque · 2 months
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they invented aggressive forehead touches your honor
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inkskinned · 6 months
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love when men cry about body hair bc "it's hygiene" and yet 15% of cis men leave the bathroom without washing their hands at all and an additional 35% only just wet their hands without using soap. that is nearly half of all men. that means statistically you have probably shaken hands with or been in direct contact with one of these people.
love when men say that women "only want money" when it turns out that even in equal-earning homes, women are actually adding caregiver burdens and housework from previous years, whereas men have been expanding leisure time and hobbies. in equal-earning households, men spend an average of 3.5 hours extra in leisure time per week, which is 182 hours per year - a little over a week of paid vacation time that the other partner does not receive. kinda sounds like he wants her money.
love that men have decided women are frail and weak and annoying when we scream in surprise but it turns out it's actually women who are more reliable in an emergency because men need to be convinced to actually take action and respond to the threat. like, actually, for-real: men experience such a strong sense of pride about their pre-supposed abilities that it gets them and their families killed. they are so used to dismissing women that it literally kills them.
love it. told my father this and he said there's lies, damned lies, and statistics. a year ago i tried to get him to evacuate the house during a flash flood. he ignored me and got injured. he has told me, laughing, that he never washes his hands. he has said in the last week that women are just happier when we're cooking or cleaning.
maybe i'm overly nostalgic. but it didn't used to feel so fucking bleak. it used to feel like at least a little shameful to consider women to be sheep. it just feels like the earth is round and we are still having conversations about it being flat - except these conversations are about the most obvious forms of patriarchy. like, we know about this stuff. we've known since well before the 50's.
recently andrew tate tried to justify cheating on his partner as being the "male prerogative." i don't know what the prerogative for the rest of us would be. just sitting at home, watching the slow erosion of our humanity.
#writeblr#warm up#ps edited so it is more clear where “half” of men is coming from:#15% literally don't even touch water#an ADDITIONAL 35% ''wash'' by just running their hands under water WITHOUT SOAP#15+35 =50%#like that is not washing ur hands. go back and use soap#btw the numbers for women are 4% never washing and 15% ''just water''#which is still gross but like. sooo much better yikes#ps i know we're all gay on this site but watching ppl ''correct'' my math on this has been wild#i have a learning disability im genuinely bad at math so i check EVERY time someone corrects me#but no they're just confidently wrong.....#182 hours is a week babes. 182/24 (number of hours in a day) is ~7.6#that's where i got that number from. also from rent we know there's 168 hours in a week.#ALSO btw if u read this and ur response is ''men are also struggling rn tho'' like babe you missed the point of it tho#this doesn't even make fun of men it's legit just pointing out that bigotry against women isn't founded#in anything men actually CARE about . like they don't actually CARE about ''being clean'' when they make fun of armpit hair#or they would be WASHING THEIR HANDS.#men pretend to be rollin' in cash and Apex Predators and instead they are trained to be lazy and unwilling to act in emergencies#i have never and will never make fun of men for asking for more support on important topics like DV and mental health.#this is so clearly not about men; it's about how common just being plainly misogynistic has become.#like they don't try to hide it anymore.
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worm-on-a-blog · 10 months
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happy pride! get absolutely silly with it.
+ a flag color-picked directly from this very worm.
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purgatoryorbust · 1 year
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This is meant as entirely lighthearted: can't believe how many people are calling Benoit Blanc the spiritual successor to Sherlock Holmes as if social eccentricities, roping clients into intricate ruses and solving murders at glamorous parties - with an outrageous accent and a gay little fit - are not all textbook Hercule Poirot. Like that's the Poirot modus operandi right there.
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nyaagolor · 5 months
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People are always debating the role that Phoenix and Edgeworth should play post AA4 and in my humble opinion they should be like those old guys in the Muppets
they sit in the gallery and provide bitchy commentary the entire time. That's it
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yagirlyacchan · 1 year
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Feon truly hitting same character beats as Alim right after I agonised over The Corsair's Crown never getting finished,,, cathartic. Seems like I'm weak to jealous, temperamental, witty redheads with healing powers huh
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ex-jock-enthusiast · 7 months
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@araneid-fur and their phenomenal transformation. When Bonnie Tyler said 'late at night I toss and I turn and I dream of what I need' I have no doubt this is what she meant.
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bruciemilf · 7 months
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Matt Reeves has the potential to give us the funniest comedic duo with Martinez and Bruce.
Martinez, bored out of his mind, sipping on his Barbie ice coffee: Gun to your head, would you rather kiss Joker or Riddler?
Bruce, who wanted a barbie drink too but was too awkward to order: Gun to my head? Pull the trigger
Martinez: wh E E Z E
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emerald-emerlad · 7 months
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we did it guys
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also bouchard? elias??? holy heck who is this lady
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mcdynamite · 1 year
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When everything settles down after Vecnapocalypse, Steve gets a call from the athletic director at Hawkins High School, and a day later, he accepts a part-time position as the assistant coach of the Hawkins High varsity basketball team.
Lucas is obviously stoked, and the other kids concede (after a few minutes of bemoaning Steve's return to the Dark Side) that it's a perfect job for him. Robin screeches with delight, and Nancy tells him she's proud of him, and Jonathan thumps him on the back with a quiet, "Congrats, man," and Eddie?
Well, Eddie just rolls his eyes and makes a joke about the Return of the King that goes right over Steve's head (but has the kids and, wouldn't ya know it, Nancy, grinning) and doesn't say much else.
It's probably stupid, but Eddie has actually (horrifyingly) grown to like hanging out with Steve. Sure, he knows next to nothing about D&D or Lord of the Rings or metal music, but that doesn't seem to matter all that much. He still listens to Eddie rant about all of those aforementioned interests and does his best to understand, even if he doesn't particularly care about the content of Eddie's latest campaign. He lets Eddie play Dio and Metallica and Black Sabbath for him, and even though Eddie can tell he's not really into most of their music, at the end of his "Musication" he gives Eddie a list of the songs he actually liked, so they have some stuff to listen to when they hang out that won't make one of them want to puncture their own eardrums.
He even looks genuinely apologetic (and, dare Eddie say, disappointed?) when he tells Eddie that it's not that he doesn't want to read Lord of the Rings. It's just that he can't, because reading is really fucking hard when the letters won't stop jumping all over the damn place.
The point is: Eddie likes Steve. He likes Steve's sarcastic quips and his attentiveness, and his hilarious but well-meaning and frighteningly successful mothering of the teenagers they apparently co-parent. Eddie likes Steve, and he likes being his friend, and he's afraid that this stupid Assistant Coach job will end up dragging Steve headfirst back into his King Steve days, and Steve will forget all about being friends with Eddie "The Freak" Munson.
It's so, so stupid, because while Eddie likes Steve, he also knows Steve, and he knows that Steve isn't the guy who used to hang around the Tommy Hagans of the world anymore. But the fear is there, and it's still there by the time the school year starts and Steve starts getting busy "prepping" for his new job, which... what? The basketball season doesn't start until January, so what the hell kind of prep would Steve be starting in August?
Eddie wonders, but he doesn't ask. He just anxiously waits to see if Steve will eventually decide to ditch him, and he continues to be quietly delighted when Steve always, always makes time for the two of them to hang out.
The thought of Steve going back into jock-mode still makes him kinda sick, but he'll never tell Steve that. Steve is way too excited for the start of the basketball season, and Eddie is gonna support him the same way Steve supports Eddie at his Corroded Coffin concerts: with begrudging interest and genuine pride, so help him God.
It goes on like this until one day, Eddie's begrudging interest suddenly becomes a little more genuine, when he accidentally stumbles upon what Steve meant for the last three months whenever he said he was "prepping for the season." 
He's got plans to hang out with Steve that afternoon, pulling up in his van fifteen minutes late because time management has never been one of his strong suits. Only, when he gets to Casa Harrington, he notices something strange. The garage is open.
The thing is, Steve always parks the Beemer in the driveway. He never uses the garage. Actually, Eddie didn't even realize Steve had a garage at all, until now, but he hears some clanging coming from inside and goes to investigate. He walks past the Beemer (parked in the driveway where it always is) and peers inside, expecting to maybe find Steve... repairing something? Reorganizing? Honestly, he has no clue what he thinks he'll find in there.
What he definitely doesn't expect to find is Steve Harrington in the middle of what appears to be a pretty fucking intense workout – hair and tank top damp with sweat, wearing frankly indecently short shorts, and breathing steadily as he does fucking pull-ups on the bar in his garage, which has apparently been converted into a whole goddamn home gym.
Eddie stops in his tracks and stares, affording himself a moment or two to have a teeny, tiny (enormous) crisis over it.
Steve hasn't noticed him yet, and Eddie can't tear his stupid eyes away from the way Steve's arms tremble from the exertion as he pulls himself up, face pinched into a concentrated frown. Eddie can see him gritting his teeth, can see the muscles in his arms and shoulders straining a little bit. Even worse, every time Steve lowers himself down, his stupid tank top rides up just enough to expose the (not at all soft, apparently) plains of his stomach, glistening with sweat, and God, Eddie wants to lick Steve fucking Harrington's abs like a-
Oh, no.
Oh, fuck no.
Oh, Jesus H. Christ, fucking shit, NO.
Listen... It's not like Eddie hasn't already known for years that he's gay. He's been fully aware of that since middle school. It's the reason his dad kicked him out and sent him to live with Wayne, for fuck's sake. It's just that Eddie has put a lot of effort into pretending his thoughts about Steve Harrington were totally, completely, 100% platonic up until this point, and now he can feel all of that hard work going down the metaphorical drain.
He stands there, stock still with his jaw hinged open, and stares while his brain melts out of his ears and his thoughts begin to race. God, those fucking arms. Eddie's not weak, but he's definitely weaker than Steve, which means Steve could definitely pin Eddie down if he wanted to. In a bed. Against the wall. On the hood of a car. Fuck, on the goddamn floor – Eddie's not picky! All he knows is that he wants Steve to leave the workout for later so Eddie can lick the sweat off of him, which... gross. But also hot. But also-
"Eddie?"
Oh, fuck. How does one talk to the sun?
Steve has noticed him standing there, obviously, which sort of makes Eddie wonder how long he's been staring. Time stopped in Eddie's world the moment a sweaty Steve Harrington entered his field of vision, so he truly has no idea how bad his staring got.
Christ, this is going to be so bad.
So, so bad.
"Eds?" Steve says, his face pinching into a frown. "You okay?"
Oh my god, you moron, say something! Eddie's brain screams at him.
"What?" Smooth. "Uh, yeah! Totally fine. Just, y'know, like, lost in thought, or whatever. Plotting my next demonic attempt at world domination. The usual."
Steve looks at him like he's grown a second head, which... is fair. But Eddie's fumbling attempt at speech is at least embarrassing enough to take precedence over the cacophonous sound of whatever Ode to Abs his mind was attempting to compose, and Eddie feels like he can think a little more clearly.
"Ah, fuck," Eddie mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. He sighs and looks at Steve apologetically. "I'm sorry, dude. I swear I'm fine. It's just been a weird day."
Steve cocks his head to the side like a particularly inquisitive puppy, and oh God, it's adorable. Eddie loathes how adorable it is. "Good weird?" Steve asks. "Or bad weird?"
Eddie ponders his answer for a moment, then replies with, "Weird weird."
That's enough to startle a laugh out of Steve, who shakes his head and wraps a towel around his neck. "Fair enough, man. Sorry about all of this, by the way." He gestures vaguely towards the home gym in his garage and shrugs sheepishly. "I was gonna be done before you got here but I sorta... lost track of time, I guess." He's got an unreadable look on his stupidly beautiful face, and Eddie doesn't like that at all. He doesn't like that one bit.
But he decides not to overthink it and brushes Steve's apology off with a wave of his hand. "It's whatever, dude. Might wanna shower, though." The ‘otherwise I might take it upon my gay little self to lick you clean’ is left blessedly unsaid.
Steve laughs again, and just like that, things start to feel a bit less earth-shattering. They banter for a bit longer, then Steve really does go to take a quick shower, and they spend the rest of the night lying on the floor of Steve's living room, listening to the metal mix tape they made together and bitching about their brood of teenagers.
Weirdly, though, after that day, Steve seems to be working out a lot more frequently. As in almost every single time he and Eddie have plans. Day after day, Eddie is treated to the sight of Steve Harrington looking like a goddamn Greek god, and day after day, Steve catches his eye and smiles before abandoning his equipment and acting like Eddie's world hasn't been completely turned on its head.
It's starting to drive him kind of insane, honestly, and his pining has gotten so bad that even Gareth and Jeff know.
"He's just so pretty!" Eddie whines for what feels like the thousandth time.
His band mates simply exchange a long-suffering look and let him ramble.
It all comes to a head in November, just before Thanksgiving, when Eddie shows up and once again finds Steve finishing a workout. Just like always, Steve shoots him a good-natured grin and greets him before heading inside for a quick shower, and just like always, Eddie waits downstairs.
NOT like always, however, this time Steve comes jogging down the stairs with wet hair, wearing a pair of joggers and... absolutely nothing else.
It's been a long time since Eddie last saw Steve without a shirt on (since the day at Lover's Lake when they found watergate, to be precise), and suddenly Eddie is remembering why he'd immediately pulled out a cigarette to calm down that day. Only this time it's even worse, because Steve has really been putting effort into these workouts, and it shows.
His chest is toned and covered in coarse hair that Eddie kind of wants to tug on, just to see what sort of sounds Steve would make if he did. He's got the makings of an honest-to-God six pack just barely visible on his abdomen, partially obscured by scars Eddie recognizes from looking at his own in the mirror. Steve's are slightly smaller and not as deep, but they clearly came from the same sets of tiny jaws, and Eddie finds them weirdly comforting, these matching scars that they share. Steve's look pale in contrast against his skin, and God, Eddie just wants to kiss them. He wants to worship them and every other inch of the man who bears them.
The man who definitely just said something Eddie didn't hear because he was too busy trying not to pass out from mere proximity to something so beautiful.
"Sorry, what?" Eddie asks, shaking his head violently in an attempt to dispel his traitorous thoughts.
Steve smirks, but Eddie can see the soft fondness in his eyes when he cocks his head to the side and repeats the words Eddie missed the first time. "I asked if you see something you like, Munson," Steve teases, one hand carding wet hair out of his face, and Eddie just blinks at him.
Play it off, play it off, play it off, his brain supplies helpfully. He can totally play this off. Dudes stare at their friends’ chests all the time, right?
"What?" he practically squeaks. "I- well... no, wait, um... ah, fuck."
So much for plausible deniability.
He's just beginning to feel vaguely panicky when Steve seems to catch on, and he's right in front of Eddie in an instant, concerned, hazel eyes gazing down at Eddie's grimacing face.
"Hey," Steve says, reaching out like he wants to touch Eddie but thinks better of it. "It's okay, man. You're okay. I'm just messing with you."
The impact of his words is instant, and Eddie can feel his face heating up. Of course Steve was joking. God, Eddie is such an idiot.
"Right," Eddie says, voice strained. He rubs his face with both hands, shaking his head lightly. "Duh. Obviously you were teasing." His voice sounds strange even to his own ears, and he's got a weird feeling of anticipation in his stomach that tells him that he's already shown too many of his cards.
"I mean, yeah..." Steve says, seeming nervous for the first time since Eddie got here. His hands flit from the back of his neck to his hair to his waist, like he doesn't know what to do with them. "Teasing is, like, flirting 101, so..."
Eddie freezes.
"Oh my God, wait..." he says slowly, finally daring to meet Steve's confused eyes. "Flirting?"
Steve looks utterly perplexed now, and he does that thing where he cocks his head to the side in confusion. 
It's still adorable. Fuck, why is it so adorable? 
"Um... yes?" He studies Eddie, seems to register the shock on his face, and then matches it with shock of his own. "Wait, you didn't know? I thought you knew!"
"I most certainly did not!" Eddie counters, feeling a bit like he's having an out-of-body experience.
"Oh my God," Steve says. "Oh my God, Eddie, I've been flirting with you for, like, months!"
"Months?!" Eddie's voice has officially reached the stratosphere.
"Yes!" Steve yelps. He looks torn between laughing and crying, though Eddie thinks it'll be mildly hilarious no matter what choice he makes. "Jesus, dude, I winked at you while I was doing pull-ups last week! What did you think that was?"
"A hallucination!" Eddie says immediately. "You're straight, Harrington!"
At that, Steve snorts, then shakes his head.
Eddie's pretty sure his brain is melting by now.
"Yeah, um, no," Steve says firmly. "I'm definitely not straight."
"You... I... What? Since when?"
"Well..." Steve begins, briefly glancing away. "Since forever, technically. Probably. But officially, since that time I made out with Tommy H. after we got wasted at a party sophomore year. And if that wasn't enough proof, I think the amount of time I’ve spent staring at your ass lately definitely is."
Eddie stares at him. "Am I dead?" he asks dumbly. "Is this Heaven? Am I having a fucking stroke?"
Steve's laughter is bright when it rings through his living room, and Eddie is grateful when Steve carefully raises a hand to cup his cheek, because the soft touch is grounding in the best way. 
"Definitely not dead, Eds," Steve says. "And shit, I hope you're not having a stroke. How many fingers am I holding up?"
Eddie just blinks at him, because Steve has one hand on Eddie's cheek and the other on Eddie's arm, and he's definitely not holding up any fingers. "Zero, Harrington, what the fuck?" he says weakly.
Steve laughs – no, scratch that, he giggles. He fucking giggles. 
If Eddie isn't dead yet, he's about to be. 
"Good. See?" Steve says. "Not having a stroke."
"I don't think that's how strokes work, dude," Eddie says weakly.
"No?" Steve asks, though he's still smiling, and he looks wholly unbothered by Eddie's doubting of his medical prowess.
Eddie shakes his head, eyes wide as Steve huffs out a laugh and slips an arm around his waist to pull him closer. They're practically chest to chest now, and Eddie is suddenly reminded of how very shirtless Steve currently is. He's mildly horrified by the way his hands tremble slightly when he rests them flat against the center of Steve's chest, but it's not like anyone can blame him! He's only ever kissed a couple of people before, and now he's somehow found himself in the arms of a half naked Steve Harrington. So, yeah, he's feeling a little jittery. Sue him.
If Steve notices the jitters, though, he doesn't mention it. Instead, he gives Eddie a soft, disarming smile that makes Eddie feel pathetically weak at the knees. "So..." Steve says, cheeks turning a pretty pink color. "Hi."
A slightly manic bark of laughter bursts from Eddie's lungs, but it only seems to make Steve smile wider. "Yeah, hi, Stevie," Eddie breathes. 
And then he nearly stops breathing completely when Steve's thumb drags gently across his cheek. It's such a sweet gesture that Eddie thinks he might melt right into the floorboards.
"So..." Steve murmurs again, gaze not leaving Eddie's. "It has recently been brought to my attention that you didn't realize I was flirting with you this whole time."
Eddie doesn't need a mirror to know that his face flushes bright red at Steve's words.
"But I have been," Steve continues. He bites his lip, almost like he's nervous, which is ridiculous because what the fuck is there about Eddie that could be making Steve Harrington nervous right now? "Like, I've been doing it constantly, because you're funny, and sweet, and sort of adorable, but also kinda hot? Y'know, because you have the tattoos and stuff, and you're all dramatic all the time, and it's hot, but then sometimes you do that thing where you hide your face behind your hair, and it's so fucking cute, Eddie, I mean..."
Steve trails off, cheeks growing even pinker after seemingly realizing that he's been rambling, and Eddie feels like he's going insane.
"Anyway," Steve says, clearing his throat. "I like you, Eddie. Like, a lot. And I've sort of been dying to kiss you for, like, months, so-"
Eddie never lets Steve finish his sentence, because the moment the word kiss leaves his mouth, Eddie is leaning forward and pressing their lips together in a soft, fleeting kiss that's over far too fast.
So fast, in fact, that it takes a moment for reality to catch up to Eddie afterwards. He's already pulling away by the time it hits him: he just kissed Steve Harrington.
He, Eddie fucking Munson, just kissed Steve fucking Harrington.
"Holy shit," Eddie mutters, gaze flitting back and forth between Steve's wide eyes. "Holy shit."
There's a brief pause, and then Steve starts to laugh.
It starts as a soft chuckle and slowly transforms into bright, elated laughter that echoes off the walls and bathes the whole room in sunlight, never mind the rainy day outside. It's light and happy and beautiful, and Eddie unfreezes after a moment to add his own laughter to the mix. He drops his head onto Steve's shoulder, a shiver running down his spine when Steve's arms come around him automatically, like they were made to fit together like this.
Eddie wonders if maybe they were.
When their laughter finally dies down, Steve carefully pulls back just enough to meet Eddie's eyes again, and Eddie smiles shyly up at him.
"Sorry," Eddie says without a hint of guilt in his voice. "You said the word kiss and I panicked."
Steve just shakes his head and grins. "See? Like I said - adorable." One of his hands raises to cradle Eddie's cheek again, and Eddie doesn't hesitate before leaning into the touch. "But if it's okay with you," Steve says softly, “I'd really like to give you a proper kiss, now."
And yep, it's official. Steve Harrington is going to be the death of him.
Eddie can't fucking wait.
He nods and lets his gaze flit down to Steve's lips for a fraction of a second before Steve is closing the distance between them, and oh... this is so much better than the quick, vaguely frantic press of lips they exchanged only a few moments ago. Eddie takes back every judgemental comment he's ever made about the girls who were obsessed with Steve Harrington in high school, because he gets it now.
Oh, God, he gets it.
Because Steve kisses him, soft and sure, like Eddie is the only thing that matters in all the world. It's gentle and sweet and perfect – not an ounce of hesitation in the way Steve slots their lips together. And then Steve just... stays there, like he's giving Eddie a moment to catch up, to process what's happening.
He's so goddamn patient – so fucking kind – and Christ, Eddie adores him for it.
Steve pulls back just enough to break the kiss, and Eddie doesn't whine. He doesn't. But it's okay, because Steve doesn't leave him hanging for long, threading his fingers through Eddie's curls and using them as leverage to tug him even closer into a kiss that turns Eddie's legs to jelly. Steve's tongue slides against Eddie's so beautifully, and his hands are so strong, and he smells like lemony soap and minty toothpaste (did Steve brush his teeth after showering? God, he's ridiculous. He’s perfect.) and Eddie can feel the muscles in Steve's chest shift whenever they move, and, and, and...
And yeah, this time when Steve pulls away, breath coming quicker and eyes shining with happiness, Eddie does whine. Or maybe it's a whimper. Maybe it's both. Christ, Eddie doesn't care. He'll keep making that noise forever if Steve keeps looking at him like this.
"Fuck," Eddie breathes. He knows he probably looks embarrassingly awestruck, but he can't find it in himself to care. "How are you so fucking hot, Steve? What the fuck?" His face is on fire, but Steve just laughs – nope, there's that giggle again – and kisses Eddie's forehead.
Eddie's pretty sure he's melting, but honestly? Worth it.
"I don't know if you've noticed," Steve teases, "but I've actually been working out a lot lately..."
Not even Eddie's lovesickness could protect Steve from the playful smack he gets for that.
"Did I notice?" Eddie huffs. "You're the worst, Harrington."
Steve just smiles and kisses him again.
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kanethegoofster · 1 month
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New Blood 10th anniversary art has Gabv1el in it !!
Gabe is going on a date with his machine enbyfriend :3
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theannoyeddragon82 · 9 months
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wow these bitches are really fucking gay
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