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stevebabey · 1 year

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part one here. ze part two to touch-starved stevie that absolutely no one requested hehe <3 but i gots to let my boys have a wee kiss :")

So, hugs with Eddie become… well, a thing.

Not a thing. They’re not a thing, Steve and Eddie. It’s totally the same as when he gets hugs from Robin. Eddie’s doing him a favour as a friend. It’s got the 100% platonic energy of getting a hug from a friend — a hug that usually melts into some form of a cuddle, limbs all tangled together until they can’t tell whose are whose.

Except, Steve doesn’t really do that second part with Robin. Like he hasn’t done it ever with Robin.

So, it’s an Eddie thing.

But they’re not a thing. Not matter how much Steve would actually very much like for that happen. Okay, maybe Steve’s overthinking the whole thing a bit, but he just can’t tell.

Where’s the line? It’s infuriating not being able to discern between platonic and more, just because Steve wasn’t held enough as a fucking baby. Out of all the things he resents his parents for, Steve’s surprised that this is so near the top.

Because, sure, Steve’s had more than his fair share of hookups. He knows that sort of touch. He knows the shape of lust; the scrapes of fingernails down backs, the tight grips over skin, the push and pull of the heat of the moment.

And this thing with Eddie… is not that.

So, really, Steve knows that it’s all friendly. Eddie is just being nice. He’s being a decent dude and helping his friend out — by catapulting himself into Steve’s arms at every opportune moment.

(Steve’s only dropped 3 mugs of coffee because of this so far. It’s only because Eddie says good catch, big boy with a devilish grin every time that Steve manages to catch Eddie that Steve hasn’t completely told him to knock it off. Just yet, at least.)

And he’s different in other areas. He’ll always seem to choose the seat next to Steve on movie-nights now, content to snuggle right up to him. They get thigh to thigh, arm to arm — and Eddie only needs to get about 20 minutes in for him to do a big sigh, like an old dog, and slump over, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve notices though. He always notices.

It’s impossible not to— the skin, even if there’s 3 layers between them, burns blazing warm. Eddie’s hair drapes over his arm, a curl inevitably tickling along Steve’s collar. He can feel the rise and fall of Eddie’s breathing, the little shake of when he laughs.

It drives Steve a little insane— insane in the way that makes him think about burying his fingers in those curls again, about pressing his lips against Eddie’s pretty mouth just to feel the smile against his skin, about digging into his chest so he can climb into his chest and live there.

Yeah, it’s— well, it’s safe to say that the effect of Eddie’s touchiness has sent what was once a fleeting thought of a crush into mind-melting levels of affection.

But he can’t fucking tell.

To Steve’s credit, neither can Eddie.

Which is not surprisingly considering sometimes he catches himself wondering how the hell he ended up here; in a close-knit friendship with band-geek Robin Buckley, princess Nancy Wheeler, and King Steve Harrington.

Okay, the Robin one sort of makes sense. He thinks that if no matter when their paths crossed, he and Robin would’ve always even some sort of strange friends - her snark complimenting his bitchiness. Also, the whole super queer thing helps too. Even the friendship with Nancy works, in its own weird way.

Steve though? He’s the fucking curve ball.

It works though, the two of them. Surprisingly well, actually — the two of them get on like a house on fire, bitchy quips back and forth. Even better, is the quiet that they can share. Steve loves to come around and do… nothing. Do nothing with Eddie, though.

So, even though Eddie had noticed the tension in Steve with touch, little moments where he turned rigid when Eddie’s usual wandering hands got too comfortable — Eddie chalked it up to the usual. Guys bring too uncomfortable with him, too weird about another guy being touchy. It didn’t matter than Eddie wasn’t even out to Steve yet, he was still might be that type of guy.

Well, Eddie had certainly thought so. Sure, Steve might not be one of those jocks who smacked around boys who looked too long in the locker room, but if he knew a smidge of the truth, who really knows. It would explain the tenseness at least.

But then— ‘Can I… have a hug?’ There had been a dozen things Eddie was thinking that Steve could’ve asked for but that? Wasn’t even in the ballpark. It was so left-field it left Eddie speechless for a whole moment. And Steve had been staring at the ceiling, his hands curled up tight again like- like he thought Eddie might say no.

A ridiculous thought, honestly. Anyone who knew Eddie well enough knew he was touchy; loved giving it, loved getting it. Like an overly affectionate cat, Wayne had once called him, just 11 years old, because Eddie’s need for affection seem to never be sated.

After that night, Steve’s lack of touch became far more obvious. It’s always hair ruffles or high-fives, yet never hugs. Normally, Eddie would keep to that boundary; some people are less touchy other than others, he knows that.

But… “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile, since I’ve had some touch.” That’s what Steve had said, his words. Eddie doesn’t even think he meant to say something so heartbreaking. In fact, the guy seemed embarrassed.

It had thrown Eddie for a loop— because Steve gets around. He’s nearly notorious for one-night stands and failed flings, as Robin loves to drone on about considering she’s subjected to all the flirting. What had originally been a point of envy for Eddie, just saturates the bleakness of Steve’s words. Sex but without a moment of intimacy.

So, while Eddie is miles away from being the person who gets into Steve’s pants — not for lack of want, mind you — he does try hike up the touchiness. Little things. Lingering when he taps him on the arm, hooking his chin over Steve’s shoulder to peer over it, leaning up against him when they’re side by side watching a film.

It’s good. It helps Eddie release the pressure of his stupid monumental god-awful crush he has. Yeah, yeah, it’s laughable, even to Eddie. It’s like Gay 101; don’t get crush on straight dudes, especially the ones you’re friends with. And yet…

Steve lets him. He lets Eddie give him touch, more than he lets anyone else. He still tenses; there’s still always a moment before he can remember to relax, like he’s trying to shake off bad thoughts but then he melts. He always melts into Eddie’s touch eventually — in a way Eddie knows Steve actually loves it, drinks it up as much as he can.

And maybe, Eddie is the biggest fool to grace the Earth to let that fact give him some hope. Sue his gooey heart, he’s a romantic. It’s a quiet hope but, it’s there.

Tonight, it seems relaxing for Steve is been harder than usual— several times has Eddie traced a quite long along Steve’s arms, a subtle point that they were far too tense for someone who was wrapped up in cuddles on the couch. ‘Cos that’s 100% what they are now. Eddie will still call them hugs, but usually, when it’s just the two of them, it becomes this.

Steve, tucked up into the corner of the couch, one leg flush along the back of the couch and one hanging off the edge. It’s the prime position for Eddie to crawl up, wind his arms around Steve’s middle and give him a good squeeze and then settle there. Head on Steve’s chest, lying in the cradle of his hips. Safe. Warm.

It makes him warm, oh very warm to know that he gets this. That Steve doesn’t give this amount of trust to many, if any, other people but Eddie — he trusts Eddie.

“Y’know,” Eddie says, cheeks smushed against the plain of Steve’s pec. It feels deliciously warm and Eddie’s fairly sure he can feel how toned it is just through his cheek. Hot bastard. “I’m actually real glad you asked for that hug all those weeks ago.”

He leaves it there ‘cos he knows Steve will ask. Eddie’s eyes stay on the buzzing tv-screen even as Steve’s head shifts, turning to peer down at the boy slumped on his chest. Eddie’s pretty sure he can see Steve’s mouth twitch up into a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie affirms, giving a nod and his eyes flick up to meet Steve’s for just a moment. “Think I’ve had some of the best hugs in the world.”

Okay, that was maybe more honest and sappy than Eddie was going for. He is just letting Steve know he isn’t just doing it for Steve — that he enjoys these moments just as much. He lays it on thick, tries for a smarmy angle.

“Swept up in these pillowy arms?” He croons, giving Steve’s bicep a quick squeeze, making the other chuckle softly. “Who wouldn’t think so? I’m a lucky guy.”

Despite the joking tone, there’s no quick comeback from Steve. That’s alright. Eddie’s quite happy if this is one of the times Steve just takes the compliment; let’s the word sink in and hopefully, believes them, even if it’s just a little bit. He watches the film and doesn’t read into the silence.

Not even when Steve says, “Eddie?” all soft. Nearly shy sounding. It doesn’t quite register to Eddie’s ears.

“Mm?”

“Eddie.” Steve says again, a little firmer and that catches Eddie’s attention. He turns his head and rests his chin on Steve’s chest, his brows drawn together in silent question.

But the moment he makes eye contact, Steve’s doing that scrunched up face again. Is studying the ceiling instead of facing Eddie. And just like all those weeks ago, his hands clench up tight. Twists up the fabric of Eddie’s sweater in between his fingers and uses it to ground himself.

Last time, he asked for a hug. Considering he’s currently just about squishing Steve beneath his body weight, Eddie can’t fathom what he might be worked up to ask for. Unless he was going to ask for something more than a hug— which, well, just wasn’t going to happen, even if Eddie really wanted it to.

“Can I-” Steve starts. He sucks in a breath, almost like he’s gathering courage. But he’s not, because he’s not about to ask for what Eddie hopes for, he’s not, he’s—

Unless…?

“Can I… have a kiss?” Steve asks, barely audible. The sentence is murmured, soft words that hit Eddie like a gentle kiss in itself — imprinting right onto his heart. Steve Harrington wants a kiss — from him!

“Oh.” Eddie says, in a breathy delightful way. He’s fairly certain the little monkey in his brain is clapping its cymbals at double-speed as the words process; or maybe it’s his heart, which feels like it’s leapt up his throat.

“Oh?” Steve echoes, a smile already playing at the edges of his mouth, because he can see Eddie’s want. Because he knows him.

“Yes.” Eddie says suddenly, with a frantic nod, pushing up closer so their faces are aligned. “Yes, absolutely, you can.” He affirms.

Steve huffs a quiet laugh at the eagerness and then his arm that had been slung around Eddie shifts. It moves up til his hand caresses along the line of Eddie’s jaw, tilting him just how he likes.

Eddie holds his breath. Counts the freckles he can see this close. Tries to feel Steve’s heartbeat through where they’re pressed so closely together; can Steve feel his? Thundering and hurried, beating so hard Eddie thinks he might bruise the inside of his ribs.

Then Steve kisses him. And shit, Steve’s lip are better by ten-fold than every daydream Eddie’s ever had about them. They’re warm and so soft — plush and pressing against his own and Eddie is freezing. Fuck, wait, how does this go again? Right, Eddie’s never… well, kissed anybody before.

Steve pulls back and Eddie screws his eyes up — not ready in the slightest for the disappointment of his own shoddy kissing skills. Fuck, did he really just freeze? Steve — Steve Harrington — asks for a kiss and Eddie decides to stab himself in the back by not figuring out how to fuck to kiss back.

“You call that a kiss?” Steve teases and Eddie’s well aware of the parallel — of the irony of Steve repeating his own words back at him. But he can’t make himself laugh even though it’s funny. Instead, a little groan wiggles out his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, earnest. He forces his eyes opens — he needs to see what’s Steve’s thinking. Where he’s expecting disappointment or perhaps regret, is only patience. Maybe a touch of concern. Eddie continues, despite the humiliation that makes his throat sticky.

“I haven’t- I don’t do this often.” He coughs awkwardly clearing his throat and hoping it hides the next word. “Ever.”

There’s a jump in Steve’s eyebrows, a moment of surprise in his eyes that lets him know he did, indeed, hear that final word. It makes Eddie feel… well, it’s nice that Steve had expected him to have been kissed by now. Even if he hasn’t. He tries to take it as a compliment.

“That’s okay,” Steve assures. Absentmindedly, his thumb rubs soothing along Eddie’s jaw. It makes Eddie shiver, some outrageous amount of joy clawing into every nerve. Steve likes Eddie. He wants to kiss Eddie.

“Do you want to try again?”

Eddie nods before the questions even out of his mouth. Steve smiles, all sunshine. This time when he draws Eddie in, he notices the way Eddie holds his breath — the rigidness in his body.

Steve kisses him again, another short and soft one and then whispers against his lips, “Relax.”

‘Cos isn’t tonight just full of the parallels, Eddie thinks. He listens, tries to focus on how sweet Steve’s kiss is than his panicky heart, forcing out a breath between the kisses. His hands along Steve’s sides find a grip, grounding and good, and by the fourth kiss, he begins to feel a bit melty.

It’s good. It’s really good. Kissing Steve is top 5– nay, the top moment of his life so far. Somehow, it’s made all that much better knowing the build-up behind it. Knowing that Steve knows he isn’t just kissing him for a heat of the moment — that Eddie wants kisses here, kisses before bed, in the morning, on dates. Eddie wants Steve.

And with the way he kisses, Eddie’s pretty sure Steve wants him just as bad.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to reach what Eddie decides is an ultra pretty fuckin’ state; lips swollen from kisses, cheeks flushed, hair a little mussed up. He bets he looks no better. The thought makes him grin, enough they have to break the kiss ‘cos Eddie can’t stop his stupid happy grin ‘cos shit— he actually gets to have this Steve.

“What?” Steve asks, somehow half heart-eyed and half suspicious at the mischief in Eddie’s eyes.

“Can I... have a hickie?”

now with a part three !

#at this point call this the 'can i' series #sweet boys asking each other for things they most certainly would be given <3 #but don't think they will <3 #tried to flip it and make it so even tho eddie is used to touch. the romantic touch? he's got none! that's where he's touch-starved #ALSO EVERYONE'S TAGS WERE SO NICE ON THE LAST ONE #trust i am. not feelin so bad nowadays (me saying this like 4 days later lmao)#but <3 thank u all #gay ppl in my phone.... you know what to do #ruby writes steddie #steve x eddie #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #touch-starved steve harrington #not rlly anymore hehe #does anyone notice that it ends with yet another 'can i?" question? HEHE #yet again stib gets kisses where ruby doesn't but alas <3 dis is way fluffier this time #nearly went the angst route! and went hmmmm naur #ok ok i'll be quiet now

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c-rowlesdraws · 4 months

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(Note: I’m writing this in good faith and not trying to come across confrontational)

Have u forgotten u can vote 3rd party? I know there will likely not be enough people voting independant party for a non red or blue president to be elected THIS voting cycle. But. If enough people vote independent maybe america will wake up and realize there are more than 2 shitty options. (It takes time to change, and change for the better)

Look the problem with the blue no matter who mindset is that these people know you are going to vote for them no matter what. Not because you necessarily like them but because at least they aren’t the other guy. Which gives dems absolutely no incentive to not be a piece of shit. Like do you get it? They will be awful and endorse genocides and all other terror because they know you will let them get away with it. Maybe biden isn’t as bad as a republican would have been but he is still pretty fucking bad. Personally, morally, I cannot in any way justify voting for him again.

voting for someone as damage control in an election does not mean you can't heckle the shit out of them once they are in office. You elect the officials you think you and groups you belong to have the better chance of pressuring into better policies, and who will do the least amount of damage in the meantime.

Democrats are relentless towards their elected officials-- at least the ones I know who are actually politically active are. They call, they protest, they campaign. Plus, as you're demonstrating, people on the left do not blindly vote (that's the other guys). It's totally unrealistic to say that elected Democratic officials just think they have an easy ride.

people can and should vote for whoever they want to in local elections, primaries, etc. But in the big one, the president one, the one in the fall, voting third party is like drawing up plans for a nice new extension on a house that is actively being set on fire. Voting for president is damage control. Voting is your hard-fucking-won civil right. Voting in smaller elections can also be damage control; when there is no-one to feel "good" about voting for, you vote for the less-worse one, because maybe that one is more receptive to the idea of climate change being real than the other one, and you can work with that.

Sometimes you get to vote for the option you align with the most. But sometimes voting is about picking the option with the cracks that you can dig your fingers into and pull open. Or at least the one who won't start taking a sledgehammer to civil rights and environmental protections (and, and) with all his buddies while you work to build support behind a candidate you can feel good about voting for in four years.

Biden has shown he can change his policies over time, with pressure. Democrats can be swayed in ways Republicans cannot. One major party can be pushed more left. The other one will drag us into a darkness that I don't even want to think about. The presidency is about so much more than just the individual sitting in the Oval Office.

Voting is strategic. It is strategic. It is not negative moral karma to vote strategically. It is one action amidst all the other actions you can take to fight for the future you want.

#please read my original post again if you're still unclear on my political stance #us politics #ask #catie talks #i don't want to publish more of these asks but I feel compelled to reply to at least some #this website was a fucking waking nightmare in 2016 and I'd feel sick scrolling through tag after tag on a political post #of people saying that hillary was a warhawk and a monster and just as bad as trump and they couldn't #morally justify voting for her #and seeing that attitude showing up again makes me want to throw plates

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wasyago · 9 months

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something incredibly self indulgent

#i dont know????????????#also the plot is a mess and doesn't make any sense and literally doesn't exist so don't ask me about it #i just wanted to draw human versions of caspian and gillion and then something weird happened...#jrwi riptide #jrwi fish and chips #just in case #and that's all im gonna tag for now #actually no #jrwi swordfish #>:)#they're dating #i think? i dont know. its complicated #again this thing is a giant mess i have no idea what's going on #uhhhhhhh #my art #sketch

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denimshortsdean · 8 months

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Cas really read dean to filth within an inch of his LIFE three (3) minutes after meeting him (What's the matter? You don't think you deserve to be saved?), threatened him the very next time he saw him (You should show me some respect. I'm the one who dragged you out of hell. I can throw you back in.), then the time after that overshared about being a good little soldier (Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul? I'm not a... hammer, as you say. I have questions. I have doubts)

absolutely insane writing from the destiel show

#look i don't even know where i was going with this post #im just.... the timing of it all #like literally their first three interactions #in this exact order #im just fully insane about s4 and the way cas changes almost instantly after meeting dean in person #destiel #don't ask me to make sense of this post please it's almost midnight and i got like 4 hours of sleep last night #and lord im about to do it again #spn #it's ya boi rach

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nouverx · 2 months

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Just wanna put Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) and Luffy (One Piece) in a jar and shake them. Just imaging these two chaotic aro ace in the same room brings me so much joy.

I feel like they would viscerally hate each other if they ever had to meet ahah :'D I drew them reacting to their flag instead! I haven't drawn Luffy in a hot minute damn I missed my boi

Now that I think about it, it's funny how similar yet completely different they are. Luffy's whole deal is about smiling, laughing and make people around him happy, while Alastor's whole deal is also about smiling, but he uses it for control, to hide his true emotions and make people around him uncomfortable/second guessing him all the the time.

Luffy is aroace, but still full of love for everyone, he cares so much and shows so much affection, while Alastor is aroace and mostly touch averse, takes a long time to get attached to people and shows very little affection (or maybe has his own definition of affection idk)

And they both have a weird moral code and hate people in power who uses it to exploit the weak?? Not to the same extend ofc but still, that's an interesting trait they share .

My two favourite aroaces I love them so much 💖

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #one piece #monkey d. luffy #the crossover no one asked for #except for me lmao my two latest brainrots together isnt that beautiful <3 #I'm so glad we're getting more and more aroace representation we get completely different flavors of aroace from one show to the other #like I can see myself in luffy regarding his aroaceness but also in Alastor on some aspects does that make sense?? I love the variety #art request #technically not an art request again but I tag all my ask doodles with that to organize my blog don't mind me #alastor

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smeddiemunson · 1 year

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(part 1 here) (part 2 here)

Gareth, in a feat of truly impressive self-restraint, lasted all the way through their band practise before asking.

The four of them packed into Eddie’s van. Gareth had ultimate dibs on the front seat since he’d known Eddie the longest, despite being in different grades.

“So,” he said, breaking the expectant silence. “Steve Harrington?”

Eddie groaned and let his head thunk against the steering wheel, not even flinching when the horn sounded. “Please don’t.”

“Nah, man. It’s all good,” Jeff soothed as he leaned through the gap between the front seats. “We’ve not got a problem with it, but Harrington? Really? Not exactly your type.”

Eddie laughed humourlessly. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

Gareth turned in his seat to share a loaded look with the two sat in the back as Eddie started the van. They were planning to find out the all of it.

“And you guys just don’t have a problem with it?” Eddie asked once they were well on the road to Loch Nora. “I know you don’t exactly have the best memories of him from school.”

Eddie tapped his fingers against the steering wheel in a rhythm that didn’t even match the tape that was playing quietly. He was nervous and Eddie hated being anything other than completely sure of himself.

“You’re right, we don’t have the best memories of him, but the guy saved your life, Eddie,” Gareth reminded him gently.

It was the worst phone call he’d ever received in his life. He couldn’t imagine getting another one like it. Wayne on the other end, breathing shakily as he told Gareth that Eddie was in the hospital, that he wasn’t waking up but that he was going to be okay and that he thought Eddie would really like it if his best friends, his brothers, were there when he woke up.

It had been hard seeing Eddie like that, small, frail and paler than usual, no rings or battle vest, no Eddie. Steve and Wayne had been sat at his bedside, both just staring into the middle distance, when they had filtered into the room. Gareth remembered so vividly the sinking feeling that he felt at the quiet. Eddie hated the quiet, he was never quiet.

And maybe it had been the wrong thing to do, to interrupt Steve and Wayne in such a way, but Gareth knew Eddie. Wayne, for all he tried, never really understood his nephew and Steve was clearly a new development.

So he started talking. He talked about school, about the assignment he was working on, and he talked about the girl that worked behind the counter of Camelot, and he talked about his mom chewing him out for almost crashing her car. Jeff and Grant, who knew exactly what he was doing, picked up the thread when it sounded like he was running out of steam.

He just couldn’t stand to let Eddie exist like that.

Gareth owed him that much. Gareth owed him everything.

Eddie who had stood on lunch tables and made himself the centre of attention, the target, when Gareth couldn’t fight off the tears after getting an F on his history midterm. Eddie who got them their first paying gig as Corroded Coffin and pushed them all to take their music seriously.

He joked about them being his sheep, but he wasn’t exactly wrong.

“Yeah, man,” Grant doubled down. “We can’t hate him anymore. Without him you wouldn’t be here. And you trust him?”

“With my life,” Eddie confirmed with conviction.

“Then that’s good enough for us. It’s all water under the bridge,” Jeff concluded. “Now turn that fucking music up, I don’t want to cry in the back of your shitty van, Ed.”

Eddie cracked the music up with a blubbery laugh and all four of them yelled along with Ozzy for the rest of the drive.

The door to the Harrington house was opened before they even got out of the car. Steve stood there, excitement buzzing around him.

"Ed," Gareth stopped him with a hand on his arm before Eddie could scamper off. "Do they know about you?"

Eddie shook his head. "Only Buckley."

Gareth nodded once and jumped out of the van. He was still too short to climb out normally, and at seventeen, he didn't have much hope for a late growth spurt to help him out with it.

“You been waiting for us all this time, Stevie?” Eddie teased as he slammed his door shut.

Steve laughed, stepping out the door with bare feet on the porch so he could accept Eddie’s hug. He didn’t have a shirt on, pink scars on full display, and short yellow swim shorts on. It was nothing short of a miracle that Eddie still had the brain cells to flirt.

“We could hear you guys coming all the way up the street.” He explained as Eddie let go of him. “Ozzy?”

“Oh for fuck sake,” Jeff muttered from his place at Gareth’s shoulder. “How is Ed not seeing this?”

“He had to do senior year three times, dude.” Grant fired back from Gareth’s other side, but still not loud enough for Eddie or Steve to hear. “Steve could plant one on him right now and he’d still find a way to make it a just friends thing.”

Steve, having finally managed to pull his focus away from Eddie long enough to see his other guests, waved them over. “Come on in guys.”

Gareth made sure to share with Steve what he hoped past for a friendly, macho and athletic half handshake as he passed him to go through the door.

“Thanks again for having us. You really didn’t have to invite us,” Grant said, using the good manners his father taught him.

Steve clapped him on the shoulder. “No way, man. I’ve been trying to get Teddy to bring you guys over for ages. He talks about you all the time.”

“You talk about us, Ed?” Gareth asked with a shit eating grin.

Eddie pushed at his shoulder, sending Gareth stumbling towards the open french doors. “Yeah and I’ll talk about Tammy Thompson if you don’t shut up.”

Jeff and Gareth snickered together. They knew all about Gareth’s benadryl induced dream about Tammy Thompson because when he told them he was still half high on the same benadryl.

Gareth huffed but didn’t say anything. He didn’t doubt that Eddie would follow through with his threat if pushed.

Out in the garden, it seemed that the party was already in full swing. There were scattered cans, Robin and Nancy were giggling together at something, and s portable stereo playing The Cure.

Steve smiled shyly. “We got started without you.”

His voice seemed to draw the attention of the other four people. They all stopped in the middle of their conversations.

“Whoa, dude,” The guy with long hair that Gareth didn’t recognise said to break the silence. “Your cult looks super culty.”

Gareth froze. Jeff and Grant did too.

But Eddie, determined to always surprise them, just laughed. “Not a cult, my man.” He kicked his shoes off by the door (surprising how little care he paid them since he sulked for a week straight when Jeff accidentally scuffed them) and started making his way over to the sun loungers. “This the legendary Corroded Coffin. Gareth, Jeff and Grant.”

He pointed them out each in turn then shucked off his shirt and started working the intricate handcuff clasp of his belt.

Gareth pretended he didn’t hear the strangled noise that came from Steve’s throat.

“And guys, this is Argyle. You know everyone else.”

Gareth waved politely but awkwardly and it was returned by a chorus of ‘hello’s.

Once Eddie had divested himself of his jeans, the black swim shorts he had forced underneath them sitting starkly against his pale skin, he dipped back in his jeans pocket to pull out two perfectly rolled joints.

“I brought party favours!” He waved them in front of Argyle’s face how he would sometimes play with the stray cats that skulked around Forest Hills.

Grant groaned. “Eddie, you know I can’t afford weed right now.”

Eddie scoffed at him. “These’s ones are on the house, Ad-Grant-age. This is a party after all.”

Steve, somehow having forced himself out of the trace that Eddie’s torso had put him in, was the first to start moving. “You guys can change inside if you want. There’s bedrooms upstairs or the bathroom just past the kitchen. I’ll get some more drinks. Can we switch this tape?”

The rambling did nothing to hide the redness of his cheeks. If anything it just brought more attention to them.

“Your tapes are shit, Steveo,” Robin informed him happily. “But this one is also awful, so yes I will change it just for you.” She ignored Jonathan’s annoyed hey and beckoned Steve to follow her.

Eddie settled on the sun lounger next to Argyle, already having pulled a lighter from somewhere.

Gareth took that as his cue to drag Jeff and Grant inside to change.

Jeff, as soon as they were out of hearing range, asked, “When has Eddie ever given us free weed?”

Gareth shook his head. “I’ve known about this crush for less than a week and I’m already tired of it. We have to do something to get them together.”

Grant narrowed his eyes. “You already have a plan, don’t you?”

He pushed them both towards the bathroom. “Get changed, our work starts today.”

(part 4)

#steddie #eddie munson #gareth emerson #steve harrington #corroded coffin #bit of a longer one but Gareth was having feelings and i needed to let him have his feelings #pool party/ operation get steve and eddie together planning party next part #again if you asked to be tagged; i don't do that because it makes me anxious and i wouldn't write anything #so figured it was better to write the stuff and not tag people than force myself into anxiety and never post anything again :)#my fic

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intheconfessiondial · 4 months

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Redraw of the cape post, because that entire concept deserved better than the illustration I gave it.

#just give 12 a cape it's all I ask #yes I was watching Musketeers again #doctor who fanart #twelfth doctor #clara oswald #whouffaldi #twelveclara #guess who watched Heaven Sent + Hellbent again #I only cried half a tear but I did get Really sweaty #which is an improvement from last time #it took me about 8 years to getting round to watching those 2 episodes because Face the Raven destroyed me so hard #I'm pretty sure I couldnt eat for a whole day after FtR aired #although at that point I had been steadily absorbing Clara's personality into my own for a few years #I don't have a personality I stole it from Clara Oswald #read all of the 12clara books. listened to the audiobooks. Running out of content at a concerning rate #had to buy another comic #one day I'll have consumed all 12+Clara content. Then I'll just have to take matters into my own hands (make it myself)

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omensofatimelord · 1 year

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The thing about testosterone being a controlled substance means that acess to it for hrt is restricted. While it makes access a significant issue for many people and an easy and effective way to prevent trans men and mascs from transitioning (as we've seen terfs campaign for and succeed at doing in Britain) it also means that is very easy for health care professionals to be able to take it away from trans men/mascs arbitrarily. This is most aborant in cases where trans men/mascs are forced to detransition to gain access to abortions after being raped. However, the first sign of an issues tangentially related to hormones a gp, without any training in trans people or hormones, can and will stop a person's testosterone. Apart from how stressful it is to know that for the rest of your life you'll be dependent on the goodwill of a random person, this has measurable negative consequences for a trans person subjected too it.

Going off t fucking sucks at the best of time, but being forced off t will most likely result in depression and worsening mental health for a trans man/masc, who are already one of the most likely groups to attempt suicide. It can also put a trans person at risk if they suddenly start being visibly trans again, especially if they're closeted in, say, a work place environment. Trans people, including trans men, are already one of the most targeted groups of harassment and violence and sexual assalt and forcibly reducing or stopping t can out people and risk their safety. And a gp won't see this or care about this, or attempt to treat a trans man/masc first or ask for their opinion or situation.

Ultimately, testosterone is seen as entirely optional and so the first resort when something goes wrong it to take it away, when it should be considered the last resort, and is considered the last resort for cis men. And as long as testosterone continues to be a controlled substance it will remain like this.

(edit for clarification: I am a kiwi, this post was intended as a general critique of accessing t through health care systems - based in my lived experience in NZ and what ive heard from international trans ppl; including but not limited to the USA)

#Transandrophobia #This rant brought to you by my gp threatening my health and safety by stopping t for a couple conditions that would be treated if I were ci #Excess hemoglobin is documented but not well understood in trans men but there are option available that aren't no t #And high blood pressure runs in the family but no one's making my dad take t suppressants even though no medication is particularly effecti #If she asked me I would rather have gout and t than neither #But I don't get an option #And if I shout to loudly I'm scared they'll not let me ever take it again #She won't even put me back on the weekly injections I'm supposed to be on now that the shortage is over #Despite the fact she's worried my t levels are too high after the injection #(Which given they're normal after a week and how much I dislike the roller coster effect should be the first thing)#But if I start on the limited options and how t is seen as so optional shortages don't matter and different options don't matter

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