Odds Bodkins

Caitlin // 30 // She/Her // Dragon Age and Marvel Trash // Tahlruil on AO3

[infectiouspiss]

wait americans can just. buy massive bottles of ibuprofen what the fuck

[infectiouspiss]

ONE THOUSAND TABLETS. ONE THOUSAND OF THEM??? im jealous we only get like 16

[infectiouspiss]

when you’re on here like ‘mmm yummy five ibuprofen make headache go away’ you’re not struggling with little packets you’re just straight chugging that shit what the fuck

[mini-wrants]

When you don’t have health care, you need 1000 ibuprofen on hand.

[getvalentined]

An open letter to @staff

I already submitted this to Support under "Feedback," but I'm sharing it here too as I don't expect it to get a response, and I feel like putting in out in public may be more effective than sending it off into the void.

The recent post on the Staff blog about changing tumblr to an algorithmic feed features a large amount of misinformation that I feel staff needs to address, openly and honestly, with information on where this data was sourced at the very least.

Claim 1: Algorithms help small creators.

This is false, as algorithms are designed to push content that gets engagement in order to get it more engagement, thereby assuring that the popular remain popular and the small remain small except in instances of extreme luck.

This can already be seen on the tumblr radar, which is a combination of staff picks (usually the same half-dozen fandoms or niche special interests like Lego photography) which already have a ton of engagement, or posts that are getting enough engagement to hit the radar organically. Tumblr has an algorithm that runs like every other socmed algorithm on the planet, and it will decimate the reach of small creators just like every other platform before it.

Claim 2: Only a small portion of users utilize the chronological feed.

You can find a poll by user @darkwood-sleddog here that at the time of writing this, sits at over 40 THOUSAND responses showing that over 96 percent of them use the chronological feed. Claiming otherwise isn't just a misstatement, it's a lie. You are lying to your core userbase and expecting them to accept it as fact. It's not just unethical, it's insulting to people who have been supporting your platform for over a decade.

Claim 3: Tumblr is not easy to use.

This is also 100% false and you ABSOLUTELY know it. Tumblr is EXTREMELY easy to use, the issue is that the documentation, the explanations of features, and often even the stability of the service is subpar. All of this would be very easy for staff to fix, if they would invest in the creation of walkthroughs and clear explanations of how various site features work, as well as finally fixing the search function. Your inability to explain how your service works should not result in completely ignoring the needs and wants of your core long-term userbase. The fact that you're more willing to invest in the very systems that have made every other form of social media so horrifically toxic than in trying to make it easier for people to use the service AS IT WORKS NOW and fixing the parts that don't work as well speaks volumes toward what tumblr staff actually cares about.

You will not get a paycheck if your platform becomes defunct, and the thing that makes it special right now is that it is the ONLY large-scale socmed platform on THE ENTIRE INTERNET with a true chronological feed and no aggressive algorithmic content serving. The recent post from staff indicates that you are going to kill that, and are insisting that it's what we want. It is not. I'd hazard to guess that most of the dev team knows it isn't what we want, but I assume the money people don't care. The user base isn't relevant, just how much money they can bring in.

The CEO stated he wanted this to remain as sort of the last bastion of the Old Internet, and yet here we are, watching you declare you intend to burn it to the ground.

You can do so much better than this.

[everythingfox]

Lightning fast reflexes

(via)

[stayflo-1995]

LMAO 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

[anarchocuntboogaloo]

Queen.

[disgruntled-foreign-patriarch]

nice to see she’s a good sport about it

[queer-here-and-in-fear]

ok this is insane but like.. the new tumblrinas are more acclimated to the culture than some normal users. i mean it. like every single reddit refugee post has an INSANELY CLOSE like to reblog ratio and there all mutualing each other and sending each other asks and dms. like wtf. how are you better at this.

in all seriousness i think its because we welcomed them with such feral delight. like every single tumblr user individually saw the reddit refugees and were like "ok listen. we love you honey and hope you're feeling good and here are the instructions" and they did SO MUCH MORE THAN WE THOUGHT THEY WOULD!!! AND NOW ALL OF THEM ARE LIKE HAVING SO MUCH FUN AND IM SO HAPPY FOR THEM!!!!

and also not to keep going but i adore how everyone is so so emotional about this. like every single reddit refugee is like "oh my god why are you so nicee i havent felt this happy in years holy fuckkk..." and were all like "its ok!!! im so glad you are having fun you are doing such a good job yknow? youre perfect at this!!" anyways if YOURE a reddit refugee lets be mutuals

[probablyelise]

We've been let loose after staring at r/Tumblr posts for several years, our time is nigh

[broccoli-bitching]

[willowcrowned]

I am humble and absolutely inured to the lure of online popularity up until I post something on ao3. the SECOND a fic goes live you will see me hitting refresh until some gracious soul gives me a crumb of validation to soothe my attention-starved heart

[charlesoberonn]

Which path should he choose?

The path of the warrior, the path of the scholar, or the path of the artist?

[moonimbued]

he should wander away and have a picnic while he thinks about what path to choose

[charlesoberonn]

Great idea! But where should he have the picnic?

Under the tree, or under the old fort?

[acatdisguisedasahuman]

By the sea, so he can enjoy the sound of the waves

[charlesoberonn]

A lovely choice!

Should he build a sandcastle to pass the time? Or perhaps go fishing?

[cynicallyaestetic]

Perhaps he could collect shells he finds interesting

[charlesoberonn]

Sounds fun!

Which shell should he pick up?

[anjing-jam]

This one

[charlesoberonn]

That's not a shell, it's a tiny earpiece.

Should he listen to music? Or to the mysterious pre-recorded message?

[sar-kalu]

He should give it back to the crab in the largest shell, they thought they had lost their wave-pod and are grateful he found it!

[charlesoberonn]

The crab wants to give a gift in return.

Should he accept the gift of power, or the gift of knowledge?

[sunw00d]

the gift of friendship :)

[charlesoberonn]

Friendship acquired!

Should they celebrate with pizza or ice cream?

[valentineish]

The crab friend cannot eat either of those! Let's split a nice seaweed salad instead. :)

[charlesoberonn]

So many options!

Should they get tossed salad, wiggly salad, or spiky salad?

[frescopino]

Seasar salad

[charlesoberonn]

Nothing beats getting it straight from the source

Should they use scissors or claws to cut the seaweed?

[somethingmissingthiswaycomes]

What about that sword in the first panel?

[charlesoberonn]

The circle is complete.

Through choices, friendship, and salad, he found his way to the path of the warrior. But he won't walk it alone.

Their path is just beginning, but this story is over.

Thank you to everyone who participated!

[haltraveler]

This is somehow both the epitome and antithesis of "yes, and" and it FASCINATES me

[charlesoberonn]

"No, and"

[tockthewatchdog-deactivated2020]

i love that i have to go to menswear to find a shirt a human being in the world would wear and then when i do it takes me .5 seconds to find it. I love that

[tockthewatchdog-deactivated2020]

me: i need a plain black t shirt

target women’s section: would you like to have a giant scoop neck that would definitely like completely show at least one of your boobs. would you, an adult woman, like to wear a crop top? would you like to look like a human piñata. BLACK? I think you mean jewel tones babey!

target men’s section: yeah sure. it’s the first thing you see as you walk into the shirt aisle. have a good one

[themadcapmathematician]

Women’s section: would you like a shirt made out of tissue paper that costs $34.99??

Men’s section: here’s 25 normal tshirts for a quarter

[dare-to-dm]

Women’s Section: Would you like to play fucking guessing games with our arbitrary sizing systems and style names?  Also, we added a bunch of fake pockets for your personal inconvenience!

Men’s Section: Here’s a bunch of pants organized by the exact inch length of your waist and legs.  With pockets that can hold more than just a credit card.

[sammit-janet]

Women’s Section:  Oh you want a plain tee-shirt?  Here you go, it’s completely see through so you either have to a) wear something else over it or b) let everyone see your bra!

Men’s Section:  Here’s an amazingly comfortable shirt that no one can see your undergarments through.  Have a nice day!

[gutter-adonis]

Women’s section: if you’re a nerd? I guess you wanna show titties and have glitter huh???

Men’s section: Here this has the hogwarts crest on it and it’s like five bucks

[i-tried-and-i-lost]

Women’s section: you want shorts? I guess that means you want something really short huh??? Might even see your butt??

Men’s section: Here’s comfortable shorts that are longer than like 15 cm long, have a good day

[domiingoenfuego]

i found the post again

[small-town-spooks]

Women’s section:you want a hoodie? Well here’s one that’s tight fitting and accents the one thing you don’t want to be seen, miss!

Men’s section:hoodie? Oh sure, here’s a loose fitting one that is perfect for hiding lumps of death have a nice day young man

[astrophelos]

Women’s section: pockets? Yeah sure of course! We’ll give you fifty fake pockets.

Men’s section: you can put your first born in one of ten pockets and still have room for more things

[bizarrelittlemew]

Are you frustrated you can't leave second kudos on AO3? or third kudos? or whatever-who's-counting kudos?

Well, have I got the html for you!

Plop any of these in a comment (by copy&pasting the code) to make an author's day and show your appreciation!

Second kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/tHMjbb6/second-kudos.png" alt="second kudos">

Third kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/52bggQH/third-kudos.png" alt="third kudos">

nth kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/6y7qGtC/nth-kudos.png" alt="nth kudos">

yet another kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/wKtcj0s/yet-another-kudos.png" alt="yet another kudos">

It will look something like this (and will be transparent with white outline on dark backgrounds):

Feel free to spread and use these as much as you like! (and if you have ideas for other variations, let me know ✌️)

[bizarrelittlemew]

So happy to see people enjoying these and spreading the love 💖

UPDATE with some suggestions from the replies! And bonus: cookie kudos.

HTML codes under the cut.

ALL the kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/KsndWzq/all-the-kudos.png" alt="all the kudos">

Chapter kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/9ZSmqrp/Chapter-kudos.png" alt="Chapter kudos">

Elevenses kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/6P4JTsP/elevenses-kudos.png" alt="elevenses kudos">

Heaps of kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/GvRw2HS/heaps-of-kudos.png" alt="heaps of kudos">

Kisses your forehead kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/6nph6nM/kisses-your-forehead.png" alt="kisses your forehead kudos">

Reading in public kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/f1HDR2K/reading-in-public.png" alt="reading in public kudos">

Re-read kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/jWYQ8bt/re-read-kudos.png" alt="re-read kudos">

Should be working kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/26WJHKg/should-be-working.png" alt="should be working kudos">

Read the whole fic in one go kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/jMHrgSk/the-whole-fic.png" alt="read the whole fic in one go kudos">

Ungodly hour kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/84300T6/ungodly-hour.png" alt="ungodly hour kudos">

What about elevenses kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/WW3cQJ2/what-about-elevenses.png" alt="what about elevenses kudos">

[gingersnapwolves]

let me tell you, I got a ‘kisses your forehead’ kudos and it absolutely made my day

[castielcommunism]

dean is horrible at lying but excellent at doing bits

[castielcommunism]

if someone asks him to play a hapless drunk in a bar to lure out a monster, he’ll give an oscar winning performance with zero prep time. if someone asks him why he’s trying to break into a graveyard he’ll say some bullshit like “I lost my guinea pig in there”

[dradelcrahasmoved]

Bruh

[geoclaire]

I can’t believe I read this post with my own fucking eyes

[lurkerwithcomputer]

I love it unironically, I burst out laughing. It hits the same note as “the opposite of malice is bonfire”.

[scrivenger-grimgar]

the waterfall to my firefly

[farttdust]

Steve has gone to bed with a lot of people.

he's poured his heart into loving them, holding them close, cuddling in, and willing them not to leave, and maybe that's where he went wrong.

because steve has gone to bed with a lot of people, but he's never woken up with them.

every time, they always find a way to sneak out, slide their way out of his bed, and untangle their fingers from his grasp. and he thinks the ones who leave don't notice that he always wakes up when they leave.

so when he curls into bed with Eddie, he prepares himself for a heartbreak in the morning. only it never comes, because Eddie stayed.

and when he woke up, Eddie's hand was still wrapped around his own.

[flowercrowngods]

it’s steddie yearning hours

It’s a little fucked up, maybe, the way Eddie can’t seem to tear his eyes away from Steve‘s sleeping form. He’s a sight to behold — curled up on his side, making himself as small as he can; his hair is a mess, hiding his face from the world but not from Eddie, not quite. The room is dark except for the light of the lamps outside that comes in through the blinds, landing right on Steve, and Eddie thinks how fitting it is that Steve would be found by the light even in total darkness. He would be found and unaware of it.

And Eddie Munson is left to lean against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of his chest like that would save his heart, keep it where it is, keep it for himself. He shouldn’t be looking at Steve like that. Not when they’re hardly even friends, not when what they have is only remnant of a world ending. A world saved. A world forever changed.

He sighs, leaning his whole weight against the frame, clenching his fists in his t-shirt, doing everything to stop himself from stepping closer to the bed, running fingers through Steve‘s mess of hair, brushing lips to his forehead and climbing in bed with him.

The doorframe holds his weight, his sanity, his heart, and Eddie slides down with another heart sigh that the poets would have called wistful. Yearning. Longing and belonging.

He hits the ground and hopes that it would break the haze. But nothing can. There’s a heaviness inside him that makes it hard to breathe and leaves him wishing that Steve weren’t in his bed, in his heart, in his life. Not like this.

He wants to be friends with Steve. Real, actual friends. People who don’t have to hold each other through nightmares, people who go to the arcade together and make fun of each other. Who exchange their favourite tapes and go on trips together.

He doesn’t want to be bonded to him by trauma and horrors unimaginable alone. He wants to fall in love slowly, gently, wants the secret smiles and the fluttering inside his chest that he overheard the girls at school talking about.

He wants another chance with Steve. Another try. Without monsters, without death and dying, without saving and being saved. He wants Steve Harrington to choose Eddie Munson for who he is, not for what they went through.

He wants Steve to choose. To have a choice.

Breathing through a lump in his throat has become second nature to him lately, and he finally looks away from this boy that has yet to drop the other shoe on Eddie.

After who knows how long, Steve stirs, stretching with an adorable little groan until he stills, his eyes on Eddie. He can feel them. He doesn’t look up to meet them, can’t be responsible for whatever Steve would find in his eyes.

“Hey,” he hears, Steve’s voice incredibly soft despite the rasp of disuse that’s marking it.

Eddie shivers a little and finally looks up. “Hi.” A beat. You’re beautiful. “Sleep well?”

“Mm-hmm,” Steve nods, yawns again, then curls up some more on his side, scooting over to the edge of the bed so he can better see Eddie. “How long was I out for?”

Two hours, forty-eight minutes. “‘Bout two and a half hours,” Eddie says, smiling when Steve’s eyes widen. “There’s dinner. If you’re hungry.”

He’s holding his breath, shallow as it is, because his lungs cannot be trusted around Steve anymore. Not with the way he smiles every time Eddie makes dinner. Not with the way he hides said smile behind the blanket a little bit, like he doesn’t want Eddie to see, like he can’t believe he’s smiling in the first place.

Eddie wants to get up and hold him. Trace that smile with his fingers. Make it stay.

What are we doing, Steve? What are you still doing in my life? Why did you make yourself a home like it’s worth staying here?

Slowly, still a little clumsy from his prolonged nap, Steve gets up with the blanket in his hands and drops it on Eddie’s lap. Must have mistaken his shivers for being cold. Then Steve steps over him, ruffles his hair as he does, and Eddie wants to cry a little bit at the way Steve snickers at it. He’s ridiculous. Eddie is ridiculously gone for him. It hurts more than it should.

“You hungry, too?” Steve asks, fingers finding Eddie’s hair to comb through the curls he just messed up. Eddie doesn’t have it in himself to move his head, to put a distance between them, to confront Steve about what this is, what they’re doing, what it all means.

All he does is nod — slowly, so Steve’s fingers stay where they are. They do. Eddie pinches his own fingers to stop from reaching out and snatching Steve’s hand, bringing it to his lips, making him stay. Stay here. Stay in his life forever. Stay and never realise that there’s no reason for him to do that.

He meets Steve’s eyes even though that’s dangerous business. “Starving.“

Steve’s face does this thing again. That thing where he softens so visibly, his eyes shining a little, his lips twitching into both a smile and a frown. It’s mortifying. It’s liberating. It’s being seen by Steve.

“You didn’t have to wait, Eddie.” His voice is soft. Chiding and grateful all at once, and Eddie’s heart flutters.

“I know,” he shrugs, and that’s that because he bites his tongue. I wanted to. I’ll wait. I’ll always wait.

Steve huffs and then he’s gone, rummaging around in the kitchen before he reappears with two plates of lasagna in his hands. Instead of asking Eddie to come join him at the table or settling back in bed, Steve hands one plate to Eddie and then slides down the other side of the doorframe so they’re face to face, their thighs pressed together. It’s a tight fit, but their bodies are angled just so, making this as comfortable as it gets.

It’s one of the first things they figured out together, sitting in the door like this. Wayne comes home sometimes to find them like this, even joined them on some occasions. Just to talk, just to be there.

Steve reaches over to grab the blanket again, draping it over both their laps, and Eddie shoves a large forkful of lasagna into his mouth to stop himself from saying something stupid.

What are we doing? When does it end? When is the last time I get to sit with you, share my blanket with you, get you to eat my lasagna? Tell me; just tell me so I can prepare. Tell me you won’t stay so I can stop dreaming.

They eat in silence and Steve’s eyes are on him for most of it, but Eddie doesn’t look up. It’s heavier tonight, heavier than usual. Heavier because Steve’s cheeks are streaked with the imprint of Eddie’s pillow, heavier because his hair is a wild mess, heavier because Eddie wants to breathe him in and hold him forever.

But Steve is awake, and they only hold each other when they have a nightmare. Because that’s why they are in each other’s lives. There is no room for feelings, for romance, for yearning when their smiles only exist to keep each other alive.

“Are you okay, Eddie?” Steve whispers, his plate empty while Eddie barely touched his own, too busy not looking at Steve that he forgot to be a person in the process. It’s nothing new, really, but he’s gotta get a grip.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

See, that’s the thing about Steve. He always gives you two chances to say something. The first try for all those impulse answers, the things you wish for yourself, the hand wave of dismissal. And then the second chance without judgment.

And Eddie loves him. Can’t lie to him again, so he just shrugs. His second chance not yet taken. Steve bumps their knees and Eddie’s eyes water. He eats his lasagna with stinging eyes and slightly shaking hands, because Steve can’t know. But Eddie might explode if he doesn’t.

“Wanna go for a walk?”

And, see, that’s another thing about Steve Harrington and the way he sees you. He knows Eddie hates being still, can’t talk when he’s sitting down. Can’t talk about anything meaningful when the world is quiet and dark and still.

Steve knows what Eddie needs. And it’s a little fucked up, maybe, but Eddie knows that Steve secretly needs it, too.

And he should say no. Should swallow his emotions, his thoughts, his fears, his aching and yearning and longing and belonging, should swallow it all and smile it away, bump his knee into Steve’s and propose they watch a movie together.

But he doesn’t. He can’t swallow tonight, not when there’s a lump in his throat, not when Steve is so warm against him, not when—

“Okay,” Steve smiles, climbing to his feet. “Let me go get ready, you finish your lasagna. Can I, uh. Can I borrow a sweater?”

“You know you don’t gotta ask.”

Another smile and he ruffles Eddie’s hair again. It makes his heart jump. “Thanks, man.”

“Of course,” Eddie whispers, barely audible, and not for Steve’s ears, just for his own need to say something. Anything. To make this real.

Ten minutes later, Eddie closes and locks the trailer door beside him and they start walking. The night is quiet even though it’s only just past eleven, and it’s a tad colder than Eddie expected. Beside him, Steve sticks his hands into the pockets of his jacket, fluffing up the hood of Eddie’s sweater so it covers his neck from the light breeze. Feeling Eddie’s eyes on him, Steve smiles and cocks his head down the street.

“Shall we?”

Eddie only hums but sets the pace. They’re both looking down at the ground, neither of them really caring where it is they’re going. It’s not about getting anywhere, it’s just about moving. Walking. Talking without looking at each other, finding excuses and answers in the night sky and the swaying treetops.

They walk in silence for a good half hour before Eddie finds his courage, his words, his peace with the possible answers. The night can cover for him and convince the daylight of little white lies that sound a lot like, I’ll be fine.

“You know you don’t have to do all this, right?”

Beside him, Steve’s steps falter a little. Maybe he didn’t expect Eddie to talk after all. “Do what?”

“This, I don’t know,” Eddie sighs, opening his arms to indicate the entirety of his life, really. “Sticking around. Staying.”

Steve frowns a little but he keeps his steps in sync with Eddie’s. That’s the whole point of their little nightly walks. No stopping, no looking, no seeing.

“Do you not want me to?”

God, how he wants Steve to stay! But also… Not like this. Not like he thinks Eddie might break if he leaves. Which Eddie will. But it shouldn’t be what makes Steve stay.

And there’s no way to say that. So all he does is shrug.

There’s a little pained noise from Steve, and Eddie scrambles for words that evade him, truths that make him too vulnerable, too real, too much.

“Okay,” Steve says after a while, and he sounds so small when he does. Eddie looks over and sees him pinching the bridge of his nose, nodding slowly, his mouth opening and closing with words unsaid. “Do you… Should I go home?”

Maybe you should, Eddie thinks. Get back to people you can be friends with; real friends.

“Maybe,” he says, slowing to a stop, looking away from Steve. “But I don’t want you to.”

“I… Okay? I don’t—“ Steve sighs and stops as well. “If it bothers you that we’re friends, then you can just—“

“Are we?” Eddie interrupts him, wincing at the way his own voice sounds. “Are we?” he repeats, quieter this time, opening up the question to honesty and vulnerability rather than disbelief and challenge.

Steve frowns again, confused, and Eddie remembers why they don’t do this in the quiet of his room; why they don’t do this while looking at each other. He can’t look at Steve and ask these questions. It’s too much.

So he turns and keeps walking, following the familiar road they’re on. Steve follows, a bit behind, and it leaves Eddie feeling horribly alone.

“You know,” Steve says after a while, scoffing, sighing, breathing until he tries again. Eddie waits. Here comes the other shoe. It’s finally there. “You know, I should be used to it by now, but it doesn’t really stop hurting when people keep questioning your intentions. With the kids, I kinda get it. There’s, like, years separating us. I get it when they’re hesitant to call me their friend.

“And with Robin, you know, she spent weeks after Starcourt just waiting for me to drop her. To be like, ‘Alright, thanks, it was good while it lasted but you’re an actual nerd and I don’t care for that shit at all.’”

Steve laughs and Eddie frowns, No laugh should sound so hollow.

“I had no idea she was so obsessed with the idea of me leaving her. She didn’t trust that I would stick around, that I actually loved her, that she’s my best friend and— God, she… I just, I don’t get it, y’know?”

Steve turns around because Eddie’s steps had slowed while Steve sped up, and Steve is walking backwards with his hands in his pocket, looking at Eddie with a hurt, confused expression.

“And now you’re telling me you don’t want me to stay and that I should go home, but that you don’t want me to do that either? You’re asking me if we’re friends, Eddie? What the hell else would we be? I’m…” He shakes his head and spreads his arms. “What do I have to do for anyone to beliehe me I just wanna spend time with them because they’re cool and I feel really fucking good being around them?”

Eddie doesn’t wanna look at Steve, but he can’t look away either. They’ve stopped again, a few feet apart, and Steve looks so open, ready for Eddie to answer, to tell him, to talk, when all Eddie wants to do is run away. Run to him. And he can’t do either. Can’t tell him.

“It’s not that,” he says lamely.

He gets to watch as Steve’s face scrunches up, crumbles, and then falls until there’s nothing left. His expression empty.

“I’m going home now, Eddie.”

“Why?”

Steve shakes his head and swallows. “Because I’m hurt. And confused. And I don’t wanna talk anymore, not when you don’t.”

And with that, Steve turns around. Walks down the road, disappearing into darkness until the next street light catches him. Attracting light even in darkness.

And Eddie breaks finally. He runs down the street, halfway catching up with Steve until he’s close enough to make sure the other boy can hear him.

“I’m terrified,” he says, making Steve stop. He doesn’t turn around yet, but it’s enough for Eddie to keep going. “I’m so fucking terrified that you only think you have to be my friend because we nearly died together. Terrified that you’ll leave because this thing between us is so heavy, loaded with trauma and memories. I’m terrified that you won’t come over anymore one day, that you’ll be done, that you’ll find friends that are not bonded to you like I am. Or like the kids and Robin and the rest are. I’m… Stevie.”

His voice breaks a little and he approaches Steve’s form, the light catching in his hair, making Eddie feel like a moth on his way to the flame.

“I wonder if we’re friends not because I doubt you. It’s because I know I have nothing to offer you. Nothing but, like, an open ear for your memories or open arms for your nightmares. Nothing but shared memories, which I know are only a fraction of what you’ve been through. That’s not how friendship works, Stevie, that’s not what will be enough in the long run.”

He sighs, rounding Steve until he’s in front of him, but Steve’s looking down at the pavement.

“I want to be your friend, Stevie. But I have this gnawing feeling that that ship has sailed.”

Steve shakes his head when Eddie is done. Says something he can’t quite catch.

“What was that?” Eddie asks, his voice tender, his eyes watery, his breath heaving. He hates being so vulnerable, but he hates even more the thought that Steve would just leave and think Eddie never cared for him.

“You make me dinner,” Steve says then.

He sniffles. Reaches for Eddie’s hand until he seems to think better of it. Eddie feels the emptiness, the cold air on his skin, and longs to be brave enough to take Steve’s hand now. He isn’t. But he thinks about it. He thinks about it all the time.

“You make me dinner and let me sleep in your bed. You make me smile and when I’m at work, I think about you sometimes, just to think nice thoughts. I don’t… There’s nothing you have to do, Eddie. You don’t have to do or be anything to be my friend. And I don’t want you around me just because you know what it’s like to drift off in your head, or just because you don’t question it when I can’t talk. I want you around because you make me laugh and you make me happy and if I could get paid for spending my days with you and with Robin, I would do nothing else in life. Because you, Eddie Munson, are good. And you’re enough. You’re a dork and a nerd and a fucking menace, and you’re kind and good with the kids and you’re a great friend. A great friend, Eddie, fuck!”

Steve is crying, but that’s okay because so is Eddie. Sincerity is scary, scarier than facing down the demo-bats, scarier than telling Wayne he’s queer, scarier than just about anything he’s ever done. But it also allows him to take Steve’s hand and pull him against his chest.

It makes him laugh when Steve sounds so frustrated when he says, “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

It makes him pull back and wipe away the tears from Steve’s cheeks, ignoring the ones on his own.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.”

He hums in surprise when that makes Steve lean in again, hiding his face in Eddie’s neck.

“I’m… I don’t know what to say,” he whispers into Steve’s hair.

“‘S okay,” Steve says. “That was, uh, a lot.”

Eddie laughs, feeling light and elated and a little hazy, the words still catching up with him, his limbs tingling with sensation just thinking about Steve thinking about him at work.

It does nothing to dissuade him from yearning and aching and longing to brush a kiss to Steve’s hair that is so close to him now. His hand comes up to the back of Steve’s neck, and the world slows down. Steve’s breath hitches, and Eddie’s heart jumps.

“I’m… I’m gonna say something, too, okay? Gonna try, at least. Stop me whenever, okay?”

Steve doesn’t react, but his hands begin to move in slow, minute movements along Eddie’s back. It gives him courage. Makes him dream.

He closes his eyes and draws in a deep breath. “I make you dinner because I like to take care of you. I let you sleep in my bed because… because it’s gonna smell like you. I like the way you smell. I make you smile because that makes me stupidly happy. Stupid, really. You make me a little stupid sometimes, Stevie. Because I want to be your friend more than anything in the world, but lately I also… I wanna climb into bed with you and hold you even when there’s not a nightmare. Just to hold you. I wanna tuck that rebellious strand of hair behind your ear just to touch you. I wanna touch you all the time, Steve. It’s a little crazy. Drives me crazy.“

He sighs and goes for the kill because they’re in too deep now, he can’t stop. Steve knows anyway, Eddie is sure, but he wants Steve to hear, too. He wants to say it. Wants to make it real.

“I wanna kiss you,” he breathes, and it’s too real for even the night to disguise it later. “All the time. And you should know that. You should know that maybe we can’t be friends after all.“

The words leave his mouth and he’s ready for Steve to push him away, to let him down gently with regret in his face and repeat his words from earlier, let go and go home like that would solve Eddie’s predicament.

But Steve doesn’t move from the tight embrace. Or, the doesn’t move away.

His hands on Eddie‘s back begin to wander more, leaving goosebumps along the way from his shoulder blades to his hips. His face where it’s tucked against Eddie‘s neck turns slightly until his nose connects with his collarbone. Steve straightens and his nose is replaced by his lips, connecting with Eddie‘s throat, his neck, his jaw.

And then Steve pulls back. Looks at Eddie with hooded eyes, hands moving from his shoulders to his jaw. Cradling Eddie‘s face like he’s something precious.

Eddie is holding his breath, tracking Steve’s every motion, not daring to move or even breathe too deeply lest he scares him off, breaks the spell, bursts the bubble.

Steve swallows and looks down at Eddie‘s lips. “What if I told you that I wanna kiss you all the time, too?”

“Then I would call you crazy.”

Steve smiles and leans in to rest his forehead against Eddie’s, breathing into the night, “Call me crazy, then.”

“You’re crazy.”

It’s the last thing Eddie says for a while before he tilts his head forward to capture Steve’s lips with his own. Steve hums and smiles into the kiss, opening his mouth to let Eddie in deeper, holding him so close there’s no room for doubts or regrets.

[anneemay]

[nellachronism]

[pokemonheritageposts]

yeah well he had me in the second half too

[pokemonheritageposts]

oh this was absolutely the wrong blog

[letmebegaytodd]

i do enjoy in survival-esque escape-type movies when someone gets hurt and someone else is like “i can help, don’t worry i’m a doctor.” like. they’re probably not lying, but they totally could be

[letmebegaytodd]

just once i want the villain in the movie to be revealed as the person in the group who said they were a doctor and everyone had just taken them at their word because why the fuck would you lie about that

[letmebegaytodd]

i can’t believe all the bad luck and injuries that have befallen our little group. good thing we have Dr. Hedical Halpractice with us

[letmebegaytodd]

now THIS is a concept!

[letmebegaytodd]

Also, cannot stress enough that Dr. Hedical Halpractice does NOT have some sort of doctorate in an unaffiliated field like a fun switcheroo, he just LOVES lying and is a HUGE asshole

[letmebegaytodd]

okay!

[feliicityrampant]

i wish there was a site that was like. video game hints. that were less walkthroughs and more “it’s in this general area” or “this puzzle is easy if you picked up all seven clues. are you missing one?” or “don’t forget you can [mechanic].” sometimes im stumped but i dont want someone to just tell me the answer…

[feliicityrampant]

oh good fucking news this exists

[pbdigital]

In a similar vein there is Before I Play which is a site that has contributions to kind of give you a heads up on stuff you probably would’ve liked to know ‘before you played’.

Warning that there may and will be spoilers, though they try to avoid them mostly.  It’s a good resource if you constantly worry you’re missing something important or doing thing wrong.

[from-beyond]

if i had money to waste i would blaze this picture of Tad because I think everyone should look at it