My partner: so I had a disappointing Dad Moment today
Me: Oh?
Partner: So I was downstairs blasting Meatloaf, right? Because the kids were both upstairs keeping themselves busy. And I've got Bat Out of Hell going and -
Me: Oh! You mean the band. I thought you were making a weird euphemism about masturbating and thought this was going to be a very different conversation.
Partner: What? No! But now I'm definitely going to call that Blasting Meatloaf from now on. Anyway. So I am listening to music by the band Meatloaf at very loud volumes, and [oldest child] texted me from across the house, saying "What are you listening to? It sounds like Hamilton For Dads"
Me: Holy shit, that's brutal.... Not wrong, though.
Partner: Just fucking flay me in the public square next time, it would be kinder.
It’s pretty likely that it’s a four digit number, and as there are four digits chosen there, that means that there cannot be any repetition. This mean that there are:
n!/(n-4)! possible orders. As ‘n’ is 4 (number of digits available). 4!/0! which becomes 4x3x2x1/1 which simplifies to 24. That means that there are 24 possible combinations of codes. This would take you about two or three minutes to input all possible codes.
well ‘technically’ the code is most likley 1970. statistically, a majority of people, when told to choose a 4 digit code will choose their birth year. and this key pad is obviously a few years old to put it nicely, thats most likley it.
No, no, no. Don’t base your deductions of psychology. Let’s talk chemistry. When you first press a button, there’s more of the natural oils on your skin, and therefore it wears down the numbers on the keys faster. Obviously 0 is the first one, then. Try 0791 first.
Close, but not quite, I think. People will almost always choose a number they can remember. What’s memorable about 0791? Try 0719 - a birthday, 19th of July. That is more likely.
Well. Since you asked. I was on tumblr as this post was being built in 2013. The height of superwholock. Which has, since then, been declared peak cringe. So people picked new fandoms to openly love in earnest. Which were also eventually declared cringe. Eventually the youth decided to cut out the middleman, and declared loving anything in earnest to be fully cringe. So it has been a really long time since the day to day users of tumblr have let any fandom create anything nearing the cultural phenomenon that was superwholock. And it is exactly those cultural phenomena that are needed to create posts like this.
So. What happened? Cringe culture happened.
Try and imagine what would happen if this post wasn’t the “sacred texts” only ever seen in screen shots and in pinterest. Try and imagine any current pop culture detective media fandom creating this post today. They’d be slaughtered for being cringe by the time (in this case) Sherlock was mentined.
But because this post is 10 years old and completely broke containment, it’s celebrated when it graces our dashes.
I blazed a small fandom event announcement. Because I was genuinely excited to be part of a Big Bang for a wonderful movie. One of the first responses I got was “Why would you blaze this?”
Because of genuine excitement.
Because I wanted to celebrate the friends I’d met in the fandom
To spread joy to people who might also like the content but hadn’t seen it yet.
The fact that that was genuinely not realized made me sad. I love thing, I celebrate thing.
I’m too old for cringe. Cringe is dead. Love what you love. Enjoy the small things in life, it’s too short to do otherwise.
@outpastthebrakers posted a thing about hospital security guard eddie and er nurse steve and @zerokrox-blog sent in a prompt for a steddie med school au, but despite working in a hospital, i don't know anything about med school other than it's 4 years of schooling and 4 years of residency, so i couldn't deliver on that part unfortunately. but i hope yall enjoy regardless!
originally posted: 5/13/23
"Are you gonna actually do something tonight, or are you just gonna sit there and look handsome like always?"
Steve pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he looks up from the computer and rolls his eyes.
"I could ask you the same thing, you know," he says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "This is the third time you've been down here in the last," Steve checks his watch, "hour. Don't you have a parking lot to patrol or something?"
Eddie only laughs and hooks his thumbs into his belt loops. "Bold of you to assume they let me drive the car, big boy. Nah, Preston drives and I get to be the passenger princess I was born to be."
Steve snorts. He definitely doesn't pay attention to the looks the other nurses are giving them.
"Besides," Eddie continues. He leans his elbows on the counter of the nurse's station. "It's your fault I'm down here so often in the first place."
"Oh really?" Steve raises an eyebrow and doesn't hide the fact that he's checking out the tattoos on Eddie's forearms that are showcased by the short sleeves of his uniform shirt framing his biceps. Hospital uniform policy says minimal jewelry but Eddie's never been one for conformity so his fingers are adorned with rings of different size.
(Hospital policy also says that security staff are, under no circumstances, to physically harm violent patients or visitors, but that policy doesn't say anything about Eddie threatening to dole out a knuckle sandwich or two.)
Eddie tracks Steve's gaze and smirks. He taps his fingers on the counter in a rolling rhythm, his black nail polish accenting the flashiness of his rings.
Eddie leans in a little more (which isn't necessary because the counter is a foot above the desk Steve is sitting at) and almost purrs, public decency be damned, "Because, princess, if it weren't for you, I'd be stuck up in my office doing something boring, like reading." He places a hand on his chest. "As much as I love my dragon hoard of books, seeing your pretty face for twelve hours is a much better option."
Steve blushes and tries to sputter out a response, but the radio clipped to Eddie's shoulder goes off.
Eddie confirms the call and groans, dropping his head.
The moment is all Steve needs to compose himself. "Oh no," he frowns, insincere but his tone teasing. "You have to actually do your job. How awful."
Eddie mouths wordlessly back at him, mocking, but then grins and raps his knuckles on the counter once more, giving him a wink. "Don't miss me too much, sweetheart."
Steve tries to not watch as Eddie walks down the hallway, but god those pants fit him so well. He's always had a thing for tiny, perky asses.
"Steve."
Steve jumps and does not yelp like a child. He turns to see his colleague Jen. Jen's been working in the ER for a few years and is a spitfire with a heart of gold.
"You've been flirting with him for months and neither of you have made a real move on each other. What the hell? The betting pool Trent and Brett have is getting shallow."
The tips of Steve's ears start to burn. "Betting pool?!" He turns his chair around to the guys mentioned and they're very much making an effort not to look at him. "You guys are betting on us hooking up? How old are you, twelve?"
"Stevie," Jen sighs in a dramatic way that reminds Steve of Robin and it makes his heart clench. "You have turned down every single person in the vicinity since you started. Eddie is obviously into you and you're into him. I'm going to say this as nicely as I can because you're my favorite out of all the graduates: Please jump this man's bones so I can get my $50."
"My love life is only worth $50 to you?"
"Steve."
Steve groans and hits his head on the desk.
xxxxxxxx
Eddie outright moans when 7am rolls around and he's finally able to take off his uniform. He shoves the bulletproof vest and his holster belt into his locker and his shirt and pants into his dufflebag to be washed later.
God, he doesn't even want to think about laundry.
After he got the call that pulled him away from Steve, it was like the floodgates opened. Two code violets, one report of a car circling the ASU parking lot suspiciously, and three code browns that ended up being patients sneaking outside for a smoke.
He didn't blame them. With the night he had, he's regretting his decision to quit.
Eddie walks through the automatic doors at the entrance of the hospital after he's changed back into his civvies, and those regrets immediately disappear and his mood brightens when he sees who's waiting for him.
Wayne's van is parked in the drop off zone and the sliding door is opened. A bright grin stretches across Eddie's tired face as he gets closer to his little girl, happily squirming in her car seat and drinking juice out of her bottle.
"Da-dee!"
Eddie lets his bag slide off his shoulder and onto the ground but Wayne picks it up and puts it next to Emma's diaper bag.
"Hi, baby!" Eddie coos as he unbuckles her. "Good morning!" He kisses her cheek and buries his nose in her hair, a chesnut brown like her dad's, and cuddles her close. "I missed you so much. Did you have fun with papaw last night?"
"She fussed a little after you left but I got her settled," Wayne says. He holds up a McDonald's bag. "Decided she was gonna get an early start this morning so I figured yall could use some breakfast."
Eddie's stomach chooses the right time to growl and his mouth waters. Last he ate was a TV dinner around one in the morning. Eddie tells Wayne to pick a spot in the visitor's parking lot and then takes Emma back inside the hospital with him.
He doesn't see Steve when he gets to the ER.
"Hey, Steve hasn't left yet, has he?"
A nurse, Jen, Eddie thinks her name is, looks at him and immediately starts cooing at the (admittedly adorable) baby in his arms that's looking around with curious eyes and drinking her juice.
"Steve's in the locker room getting changed, he's just about to clock out. Who is this little cutie?"
Eddie grins and bounces Emma lightly. "This is Emma, my little monster. She gets all her cuteness from her other dad."
Jen's face falls for a second but before Eddie can ask what's wrong, Emma squeals way too loudly for a hospital at 7:30 in the morning and almost throws her bottle in her excitement.
"Da! Da!"
Steve looks just about as tired as Eddie feels and he can practically hear their bed calling their names. But Steve's eyes light up when he hears who's calling for him and a sort of puppy-like grin takes over his face, dopey and happy.
Emma is already reaching for him and Steve quickly strides over and takes her in his arms.
"Good morning, lovebug," Steve says, enveloping her in the gentlest hug he can muster. He breathes in her natural baby smell and closes his eyes.
Eddie's hand goes to his waist to keep him awake and Steve hums, opening his eyes and leaning into give Eddie a peck on the cheek.
"Morning, baby," he murmurs, all traces of teasing and flirting from the night before gone and replaced with open affection.
Steve doesn’t need to look at Jen to know her jaw is probably on the floor.
Eddie returns the kiss on Steve's lips. "Morning, sweetheart. Wayne’s waiting with breakfast outside. Seems like little miss princess here decided she was gonna wake up early, early today." He tickles Emma's tummy as he says this, causing her to laugh around her binky and try to push his fingers away.
"Food sounds so good right now," Steve practically whines.
Jen is still staring between the three of them. Steve smiles sheepishly.
"Sorry you didn't win your money. I should’ve told you, Eddie and I have been together for years. Emma's our daughter." He shifts Emma in his arms and gives everyone a wave. "I'll see you guys later."
He and Eddie walk out of the hospital hand in hand. They eat their breakfast in the parking lot and Wayne follows them to their house to stay up with Emma while Steve and Eddie get some much needed sleep.
When they go back into work later that evening, they fess up to everyone and Eddie gives Jen $50 right from his own wallet.
favourite headcanon right now is that 20 year old mike wheeler wrote a good omens fanfic in 1991 using one of his university computers after he read the book for the first time, and then 48 year old mike wheeler watched the tv adaptation with his partner of 29 years and finally posted that fic on ao3
Request: POLYGLOT STEVE??? WHO SPEAKS FLUENT FRENCH, ITALIAN, KOREAN, POLISH, SPANISH, ENGLISH AND PORTUGUESE??? EDDIE CONSTANTLY BEING FLUSTERED AS HELL HE FINDS IT REALLY HOT THAT STEVE SORAKS SO MANY LANGUAGES AND HE WILL CASUALLY USE THEM IN CONVERSATION????? WITHOUT MEANING TOO???? LIKE HE'LL FORGET A WORD IN ENGLISH & SAY IT ANOTHER LANGUAGE WITHOUT REALIZING????
MY LOVE! OKAY SO LET ME PREFACE BY SAYING I AM A LAZY PIECE OF SHIT WHO DID NOT WANT TO EVEN ATTEMPT GOOGLE TRANSLATE BECAUSE IT IS OFTEN WRONG ANYWAY OKAY. Also, English is my first and only language (damn Americans amirite) and while I did take a year of Spanish and two years of French in high school, my auditory processing is so shit, I can pretty much barely get through an introductory conversation in those languages. But I tried to still make this cute and fun! - Mickala ❤️
“The fuck did he say?” he asked quietly, not wanting Steve to hear him.
“Shit.”
“No, what did he say?” Eddie asked again.
Robin stared at him, annoyed.
“He said, ‘shit’ in Polish.”
“Steve knows Polish?!”
Robin rolled her eyes and got up to physically check on Steve.
Eddie sat and stewed in this new knowledge.
But this was only the first of many surprises.
—-------------------
“Mama, no.” Steve’s voice came from his bedroom as Eddie made his way up the stairs.
His mom was here?
And then Eddie heard Steve speaking in…Spanish? It was too fast to tell for sure, but it definitely wasn’t English.
He peeked his head through the door, relaxing slightly when he saw Steve was on the phone.
Steve gestured for him to come in while he spoke, so Eddie slipped his shoes off and sat down on the bed, getting comfortable.
But then it sounded like Steve started talking in another different language.
It was close to Spanish, but some of it sounded almost French?
Eddie blinked at him, his free hand gesturing wildly as his voice got louder.
Eventually, he sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. Eddie rubbed his back in a totally friendly, not loving, manner.
“Okay. See you then,” he sounded resigned, tired.
Eddie hated it.
When the phone was back on the hook, Steve sank back against Eddie and sighed again.
“My parents will be here next week for a couple days. They’re organizing the sale of the house, so they are packing what they want to move into a storage unit and having a cleaning company come get the rest to be donated. I have until the end of the month to be gone.”
Eddie looked down at Steve’s hand, how it was playing with the edge of Eddie’s shirt, how tense the rest of his body was even as Eddie played with his hair.
“You speak Spanish?”
That wasn’t really what he meant to say, but the shock hadn’t quite worn off from hearing him speaking in another language. Or two.
“I speak Spanish and Portuguese,” he replied.
“Oh. Well…why?”
Steve sat up and looked down at Eddie with a smirk.
“Because my mom’s family is mostly from Spain and Portugal and if I wanted to talk to my grandparents, that was my only option.”
“Oh. I…had no idea.”
Steve rested his head against his chest again, finally seeming to relax a bit.
“I really only speak it with her now. I took Spanish in high school for the easy A.”
“Makes sense.”
They remained quiet for a few minutes, Steve coming down from the stress of his phone call and impending parental visit.
“So you wanna live with me?” Eddie finally asked, casually.
They weren’t…well. They just weren’t. And that was okay. Eddie told himself that if all he was for Steve was a great friend who could hold him when he needed it, then that was enough.
But they also kind of…were.
It was very confusing and he was constantly balancing between pushing too far and not pushing enough.
“What? Like, in your trailer with you and Wayne?”
Eddie shrugged.
“Wayne wouldn’t mind. Long as you help clean up sometimes and maybe chip in for groceries.”
Wayne also was team Eddie-tell-Steve-you’re-in-love-with-him-before-I-do and would absolutely support this type of thing.
“But you guys only have two bedrooms.”
“You can share with me or like, we can work something out where we section off a part of the living room? I dunno. It’s not perfect, but I know you don’t have quite enough saved up for your own place yet.”
Steve hid his face in Eddie’s shirt for a moment before nodding.
“Yeah. Okay. I’ll share with you for a bit. But probably only for a few months, I swear. I have almost enough to get that house by Robin,” he said.
It was a house for sale in Robin’s neighborhood, and it wasn’t selling because it needed quite a bit of work done to the yard and bathrooms. But Steve knew he could do it, he just needed to make sure he had money for everything first.
He wouldn’t let anyone chip in, either.
“No rush. But, yeah, I’ll talk to Wayne about it tomorrow.”
—-------------------------------------
Steve moved in the next week after a long argument with his parents, who didn’t seem too thrilled about him becoming “trailer trash.”
Eddie thought about the last words Steve said to his parents before leaving: “I’d rather be trailer trash than your son.”
About how he’d spit them at them, poison from his lips.
About how he’d said it in French.
He probably didn’t think Eddie understood, probably didn’t realize that most of the reason Eddie had been so quiet on the ride to the trailer was because he was turning over Steve’s words in his head.
He still hadn’t quite come to a conclusion more than eight hours later, but he was busy helping Steve unpack the last of his things anyway.
“You seem quiet,” Steve said from where he was putting some of his tapes by Eddie’s boombox.
“Hm?” Eddie looked over at him, smiling to himself when he saw Steve putting Eddie’s tapes on top of his. “Oh. Just thinkin’.”
“Thinking about…?” Steve looked over at him.
“Just what you said earlier.”
Stev’s brows furrowed as he thought about what Eddie meant.
“You mean before we left?” Eddie nodded. “I said it in French though? You understood?”
“I’m not fluent, but I took it for three years in high school. One of the only classes I passed with flying colors.”
“Really?” Steve asked in French. “So I could say something in French right now and you would know what I’m saying?” he continued, still in French.
Eddie understood enough to nod.
“So if I told you that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and that I wish I could hold your hand right now, you’d say…”
Steve’s blush gave away some of what he was saying, though Eddie had to admit to himself, he hadn’t quite understood some of it.
Steve sounded so natural, was speaking so quickly, Eddie wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Um. I guess I’m not so good at it when someone as natural as you speaks it,” Eddie awkwardly said, turning back to the closet where he was moving some of his things so Steve would have room for his clothes that couldn’t be folded.
He felt Steve’s body heat behind him, knew he would be right there if he turned back around.
Steve said something in Italian (how many languages did he know?) and then something else in a language Eddie didn’t recognize.
He finally turned to see Steve blushing, looking down at the floor of his room.
“What was that one?” he asked, moving in a bit closer, barely leaving any space between them.
“Korean. My dad insisted on all of us learning it when he acquired a business in Korea.”
“So you know…how many languages?”
“Seven counting English, but I’m also learning Russian from Robin. Kind of a way to ‘own the trauma’ or whatever she tells me,” Steve rolled his eyes.
“You know seven languages?” Eddie squeaked.
“Oui,” Steve smirked up at him.
They were so close. He could almost feel Steve’s breath against his lips, closed his eyes and imagined how he would taste.
“Eds,” Steve breathed out.
“Hm?” Eddie felt high, or like there was a severe lack of oxygen in the room, maybe both.
“Can I kiss you? Please?”
Eddie’s eyes popped open, his jaw dropping in shock.
Steve asked again, this time in French.
Eddie groaned and threw his head back.
“You’re killing me.”
“...so that’s a yes?” Steve teased.
“Oui,” Eddie replied.
Steve’s lips were warm against his, surprisingly soft, though demanding.
His whole body was demanding, pushing Eddie backwards until his back hit the wall with a thump. Eddie had never been so glad that Wayne was at work.
His hands found Steve’s waist, squeezed until he was sure he left bruises, only tightening his grip more when Steve moaned against his mouth.
Steve’s body was flush against his now, their shirts rucking up just enough for the skin of their stomachs to rub together, sweat slicking between them.
Eddie couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t really want to, didn’t want to part from the closeness he’d been hoping for for so long.
Steve did pull away though, even if only enough to rest his forehead against Eddie’s.
He whispered something in Spanish, then opened his eyes.
Eddie was hot.
“It’s really fuckin’ hot when you do that,” he admitted.
“Do what?”
“Speak any of the 100 languages that you know.”
“Oh?” Steve kissed the corner of his mouth, then his chin, then his jaw.
He kept whispering things in different languages, right against Eddie’s skin, until he was practically ready to fall to his knees.
“Steeeeeeve. You’re killing me,” Eddie complained.
“I can stop,” Steve said against the curve of his neck and shoulder.
“No, please don’t,” he groaned out.
So, he didn’t.
Steve spent the next hour kissing, and teasing, and whispering things Eddie didn’t understand against his skin.
He didn’t stop until Wayne knocked on the bedroom door to let them know he was home and was cooking burgers on the grill.
Eddie smiled as Steve left the room to help Wayne with dinner as he’d been looking forward to doing.
He thought about how long they weren’t anything but friends who could have been more.
But now they were. Hopefully they always would be.
people today with access to more raw information than any other period: the earth is flat
german artilleryman in 1916, who barely washes his own ass: I need to account for the curvature and rotation of the earth when plotting my firing plans
Eratosthenes, an Egyptian, in 3750 BC when fucking mammoths hadn’t even gone extinct yet: Oh hey I can use these two obelisks to calculate the earth’s entire circumference based on the length of their shadows and the Earth’s curvature. Neat.
I find it utterly bizarre that humans saw these megafauna.
https://www.nytimes.com/2017/03/02/science/woolly-mammoth-extinct-genetics.html
“ In fact, the Wrangel mammoth’s genome carried so many detrimental mutations that the population had suffered a “genomic meltdown,” according to Rebekah Rogers and Montgomery Slatkin of the University of California, Berkeley.
Analyzing the Swedish team’s mammoth data at the gene level, they found that many genes had accumulated mutations that would have halted synthesis of proteins before they were complete, making the proteins useless, they report Thursday in PLOS Genetics. “
That “genomic meltdown” is one of the reasons feminism is so potentially lethal, because they keep pushing for asexual reproduction, or trying to combine ovaries, when the most likely outcome is a population running about - unable to reproduce sexually since the whole “male genocide” bit - with incredibly damaged chromosomes.
Sex exists for a reason, and no, “because it’s fun” is not the answer, sorry. It works better than reproduction otherwise. Which is why every complex species uses it.
Intelligence requires a lot of things to be working correctly, and if you have an all female species that is over the tipping point of idiocy, then there won’t be enough people to maintain the technology to continue to reproduce. And humans will go the way of the Wrangel beasties.
Fortunately, feminists are horribly lazy bastards, so i doubt they’ll continue to get their way, but it does made for a decent plot for a dystopian fiction…
That “genomic meltdown” is one of the reasons feminism is so potentially lethal, because they keep pushing for asexual reproduction, or trying to combine ovaries, when the most likely outcome is a population running about - unable to reproduce sexually since the whole “male genocide” bit - with incredibly damaged chromosomes.
I teach genetics, I don’t deserve to have to explain why this is so wrong and yet. Oh my god.
Mueller’s Ratchet–which is what this chucklefuck is talking about, the reason that purely asexual lineages don’t last well in evolutionary time–does not apply to feminism. The hypothetical scenario of merging two eggs to create a baby? Yeah, uh, that’s fucking sex in this context, whether or not it involves a male.
There are zero feminists pushing for parthenogenesis for humans, mostly because the whole thing is basically impossible for mammals as a result of mammalian investment in genomic imprinting. Among other things. It’s the sort of thing that only works okay in species that don’t control their embryonic development anywhere near as closely as your basic placental mammal does, because it relies on a certain amount of flexibility about sex determination and placental mammals are kind of weird about that.
Even if there were, Mueller’s Ratchet only applies if you never ever sexually reproduce and reshuffle alleles, like the parthenogenetic whiptail lizards mentioned upthread. If we have the technology to induce parthenogenesis in a human woman, we have the technology to reshuffle some alleles now and again. Mueller’s Ratchet kind of presupposes that going in and manually editing a genome isn’t a fucking option, shitwad!
Furthermore, Mueller’s Ratchet is specifically a population genetics phenomenon that refers to the accumulation of deleterious mutations within an asexually/clonally reproducing lineage. It has dick fuck all to do with chromosomes.
Mueller’s Ratchet exists in order to explain why asexually reproducing lineages haven’t overrun the world, because frankly in the short term these lineages usually do way better than their conspecific, obligate sexually reproducing partners do. Furthermore, it’s really fucking common to see species that reproduce sexually at some times and asexually at other times, depending on context and who’s available, and that’s in and of itself a complex fucking phenotype you species-centric cortically starved ignorant dillweed
all of this is completely fucking irrelevant to the mammoth example that @brett-caton there chose to bring up, by the way, because mammoths don’t fucking reproduce asexually either
as you would know if you’d bothered to read the paper, you self-satisfied jellyfish fellator
or even the pop science article you cited yourself
which clearly and cogently explains that the fucking mammoths died of being inbred as all shit, much like yourself
the laziness inherent in jumbling all this pig-ignorant, overconfident and understudied bullshit together and claiming it’s a solidly built house rather than a crumbling, confused pile of enraged starfish is the final straw
you can’t even be arsed to read an article that you dug up and cited yourself, you shithugger
how are feminists supposed to be the lazy ones?
you obviate your own thesis with your own intellectual failure, you pathetic snailsucking weed in the garden of knowledge
I reblogged this before but I have to do so again because of the above takedown with its glorious insults. Also, it’s always fun to point and laugh at MRAs.
“Mueller’s Ratchet kind of presupposes that going in and manually editing a genome isn’t a fucking option, shitwad!” and “you pathetic snailsucking weed in the garden of knowledge” are honestly awe-inspiring and I’m fucking blessed I read them today
‘oh hey that’s funny :D man, flat-earth sure is one of the stranger conspiracy theories isn’t it. ooh who was Eratosthenes? i should look him up! and now we’re talking about mammoths, cool , i love mam
“genomic meltdown” is one of the reasons feminism is so potentially lethal, because they keep pushing for asexual reproduction, or trying to combine ovaries
Eddie's shoes might look good, but they were never a good choice for summer rains. He kept forgetting that and letting the reality of his fashion choices hit him hard in the face. Or knees.
The bus had a moving plate in the middle that usually wasn't a problem but today wasn't usual. Today the rain was pouring and Eddie's phone was at 15% because he had been too lazy to plug it in before falling asleep. So today he had to switch seats to one next to a charging port and as he was making the short voyage, a few things aligned perfectly to make today unusual, and in a bad way.
The rotating plate was wet from the rain.
The soles of his shoes had no grip.
The bus turned left.
"Shit."
Eddie gathered himself off the wet floor, cursing his shoes, the weather, and the throbbing pain in his knee. Without looking up he fell heavily into the seat that was his destination, afraid of the amused stares he might catch. His dignity? Gone. His pants? Well, they were torn already anyway so one new hole didn't make much difference. His knee? Bleeding, apparently. As he rubbed his knees, one of his hands came out red. He groaned.
"Of fucking course." He just had to hit something sharp on the usually safe and relatively smooth surface.
When he was reaching to plug in his phone, someone grabbed the pipe just above the USB port. Eddie looked up and found a man looking down at him. He also realized the golden frames of his glasses complimented his hazelnut eyes beautifully.
"You should clean this up," the man said instead of making fun of him or asking if he was okay. No, he was holding out a packet of wet wipes like some kind of saint.
Eddie hesitated for a moment but while his dignity might be gone, the gorgeous man in front of him wasn't. He took the offered wipe.
"Thanks," he murmured, wiping the cut and the surrounding skin, cleaning off sand and blood.
The man dropped a backpack on the vacant seat next to him. Eddie eyed the pins attached to it; a couple of dinosaurs, a Hufflepuff crest, ‘protect trans kids’, and… a bisexual flag. Score.
"Pirates, Hello Kitty or dinosaurs?"
"Huh?"
"Band-aid," the man clarified, shaking a small tin can he fished out of his backpack. "I work with kids," he added like it explained everything. Well, it kind of did. Upon opening, the tin revealed an assortment of colourful band-aids.
Eddie hummed in thought, considering his choices.
"Dinosaurs."
"Good choice," the man praised with a smile, probably the same one he showed to the kids. Was he a teacher? Because suddenly all the teacher-student porn scenarios gained a new appeal. Where skimpy pencil skirts didn’t work on Eddie, a soft green jumper just might, apparently.
The man handed him a dino band-aid, apparently expecting him to apply it himself. Well, of course. They were two strangers on a bus, after all.
Disappointed, he put it on the cut, missing the amused tilt of the teacher's lips.
"Do you need anything else? I have some candy; lollipops, gummies…" The man flipped through the contents of his bag.
"Gummies?" Eddie's interest was piqued.
"They have colourful fillings and a tiny dragon on each wrapper," he advertised, offering him a small baggie to choose from. Again, his tone reminded him of an adult talking to a kid. This shouldn't be working on him as well as it was.
"Can I have two?" he asked, looking up into these stunning brown eyes. The level difference was not helping. Has he not sat down on purpose? To tower over poor Eddie's tiny metal heart?
The man smiled as he took a quick conspiratorial look around.
"You can even have three, just don't tell my kids," he whispered
"I ain't a snitch!" he assured and picked up two green candies and an orange one. Because red flavours belonged in the trash.
Or apparently in the plush mouth of a handsome stranger, since he picked one of those for himself. Maybe Eddie didn't hate them that much, after all. He could make an exception. Especially if he could taste them the fun way.
"You sure you don't want a lollipop? Water? Extra band-aid?"
Eddie shook his head adamantly but had a nagging feeling the man was stalling. His gaze dropped to the flag badge, giving him an instant shot of courage.
"Your number?"
The soft teacher's smile turned sly, and he knew he took the right step. His metal heart thumped in his chest, the sound resonating against his ribs. What a fun feeling.
"Better hurry up, my stop is next."
Eddie nearly dropped his phone in his haste to put in the string of numbers.
"What do I…?" he asked when the empty ‘name’ box stared at him from the screen.
"Steve," the man offered, just in time for the bus to stop. The doors swung open, and he was gone, but while the physical distance between them grew, Eddie now had the comfort of having him in the palm of his hand, hidden behind a number.
