#pass it on

[stupid-canadian-wolf-bird]

—Are there any gay hockey players? —None that have said it publicly.

François Arnaud as Scott Hunter | HEATED RIVALRY (2025)

[the-inspector-jones]

"Where you going?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Harrington. What are you doing?"

"Obviously, I am sitting in my living room. You're the one with a jacket on at midnight in a town on lockdown."

"Yeah. Well. I'm going out."

Steve sighed. Pointed out the window. "Military. Lockdown."

Eddie surveyed Steve's lounging form and realized he hadn't moved. The statement wasn't a challenge. Genuine curiosity was sitting in his gaze.

"And do you always do what you're told?" Eddie teased, dark and low. "Night, Harrington."

"Wait."

Eddie paused, hand on the doorknob.

"Can I come?"

"Lockdown," he mocked. "Remember? Not to mention this isn't exactly the type of thing I want company for—no, God. Wait. Don't. Twist that."

Eddie turned and found Steve's head curiously tilted. His cheeks were also bright red in the dim lamp light but Eddie didn't think he'd realized that yet.

"I'm going to get a tattoo," he continued. "So. Hurry up. You're gonna need shoes and shit and I don't want to be late."

Eddie knew the whiplash he'd caused in this interaction was his fault, but, Harrington's scramble was still hilarious. He accidentally giggled as Steve tried to lock the door while also shoving his foot in a shoe.

The drive was short and uneventful, and Steve was uncharacteristically silent. Even his facial expressions were neutral, no late night bitchiness in sight. It was a little bit unnerving, but Eddie could ignore quite lot. Had decided to ignore Steve, if he could. Midnight always brought out weird interactions between them. Letting him come was a terrible idea, but he was stuck now.

He marched into Tom's garage side door like he owned the place, with Steve in his preppy fucking jacket trailing behind him like a whipped puppy. He felt the back of his neck heat uncomfortably. He really should not have caved.

"Thought you'd bailed on me, Munson. Who's the narc?"

"Chill, dude. He's...just here to observe."

"You never used to need hand holding for this," Tom sneered.

Steve snorted and Eddie glared at him. He held his hands up in surrender.

"Sorry. Just. Is this guy for real? Does he have any idea where he's living? And he's trying to insult you for what...? Needing people? Insane."

Steve stared at Tom; they locked eyes for a moment, and Eddie was reminded unpleasantly of two buck deer sizing each other up before locking horns and attempting to kill each other. Just as he had decided that he'd made a grave mistake and that they would leave, Tom let out a rauccus laugh and held out a hand for a shake.

"Alright, dude. You pass. You can stay. You getting inked too? Eddie can vouch for me. Pretty decent with a needle."

Eddie sighed and collapsed into Tom's chair, already prepped and covered in clean plastic. "For fucks sake, man, why are you like this."

Tom chuckled again. "Jerry asks the same thing every damn day, but I don't see him moving out, do you? So. What we doing."

"Well," Eddie said with a wince, reaching down to pull his shirt up. "I broke your shit."

The scars on his chest had not started to look better. They were a little less painful these days, mostly from constantly massaging them with Vickie's magic concoction. But still. The tattoo beneath them was gone. Tom sucked in a breath.

"No kidding. What happened?"

Eddie gulped. Froze.

"Fire," Steve said softly, settling on a rolling stool beside him and inching closer to his side.

Tom nodded solemnly. "Okay. We putting the same thing back? Where?"

He nodded. "Shoulder."

Without anymore questions or concerns, Tom got to work. Settled him with his belly on the table, arms above his head. The stencil was quick. Tom knew what he was doing.

Eddie had ten tattoos, not including the one that had been destroyed by the bats. He didn't actually find them painful. But as the needle hit his skin this time, as the outline of his beloved demon returned to his body, he felt his eyes prick with tears. It was annoying. Especially when Harrington rolled even closer, so that his knees were in Eddie's periphery. Eddie swallowed, cleared his throat.

"I was just kidding before," Tom muttered, concentrating. "You can hold his hand. It's safe here."

Eddie choked on a chuckle. "That's not—Steve's not really...we aren't..."

He gave up, letting a second chuckle be the real response. To his horror, the stool moved in again. Steve's cool, dry hand lifted Eddie's. Hooked their fingers together. Placed them on his knee.

"Been a pretty shitty few months," Steve said to Tom. "Think it's just a lot of feeling. This freak here can definitely handle pain."

The needle paused and Eddie could practically hear Tom smile. "Everyone needs a little hand holding sometimes, right? No shame in that."

"Yeah," Steve replied. "Yeah. Everyone."

Tom worked silently for another forty minutes, as Steve rubbed circles into the back of Eddie's hand. He entered a strange, liminal space, one that only existed in the tattoo chair. The twitchy burn of the needle was counterbalanced with Steve's soft touch, and Eddie, exhausted from the weight of living, promptly fell asleep. He only woke up because Steve was releasing his hand, gently pulling away.

"Think you have time to give me just a small one? It'd be...well, it's my first, so I don't know what I'm gonna be like," Steve said.

Tom enthusiastically agreed, pulling a clean kit out of his cart. Eddie sat up and put his shirt back on gingerly, avoiding the plastic wrap as best as he could. That done, he turned all his attention to staring at Steve.

"You don't have anything to prove, you know."

Steve smiled at him, sweet and gentle. It was the most sincere facial expression Eddie had ever seen on him. "Don't worry, dude. That's not what this is. I've had this planned for months, just didn't know I had an opportunity."

He pulled Eddie's arm closer to him, turned it to show Tom.

"These. Along my pec. Don't gotta be identical, obviously. But. The bats."

Tom smiled. "Didn't take you for a bat kind of guy."

Steve grinned up at Eddie, his face wide and open. Hopeful. Scared.

"Yeah. Me either."

Eddie sat beside him as the stencil was placed. He offered his hand before the needle even hit skin.

"Hell of an opening gambit, there, Harrington," he murmured softly, echoing Steve's earlier gesture, writing lyrics into the skin of Steve's hand with his thumb.

"I don't know what you mean, Munson. This is like, our third or fourth date, by my count. I just forgot to tell you. Still. Definitely time for permanent reminders of you etched into my skin."

Tom snorted. "Yeah, alright," he said, glancing at Eddie. "I get it now."

And since Eddie had almost completely forgotten that Tom was there, the blush this time melted down to his toes. Luckily, Steve Harrington, never one to back down from a fight interlaced their fingers and closed his eyes, just as the needle hit his skin for the first time.

[cat-cosplay]

[poetry-protest-pornography]

take what you need

a good loud scream

a nice, deep breath

a hug

some forgiveness

encouragement (keep going, I believe in you!)

an enthusiastic high five

acceptance (I'm glad you're in the world)

some strength to get through

my hand (we are holding hands now; you're not alone)

all of the above, please

Voting ended onFeb 7

Please pass it on 💜

[bratlinsmith]

i did my own tarot reading guys

[iwamimimimi]

hiii. some of your art has inspired me to write some fics (reader inserts, selfships, etc). i haven't written them because idk if you're okay with people using your art as inspo.

if using your art for inspo is okay, would you like to be tagged in the fics for creds? :D

[voiceboss]

This is how I see you because of your profile pic. Please confirm that it’s true and that all Canadians look like this.

As a Canadian Eldritch Terror (CET for short), I can verify that this is EXACTLY how I look.

That said, most Canadians are just sexy, squishy humanoids, filled with love, maple syrup, and Canadian Heritage Moments.

That said again, I know of a very sexy CET hiding in Quebec and another hiding in Alberta. One day, I hope to have a blurry photo of us together that skeptics will deny for centuries to come.