the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.
three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.
two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.
their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.
one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.
i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.
i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.
and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?
you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.
a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.
someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.
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Even though it's been months since I switched from neurosurgery to internal medicine, I still have a hard time not being angry about the training culture and particularly the sexism of neurosurgery. It wasn't the whole reason I switched, but truthfully it was a significant part of my decision.
I quickly got worn out by constantly being questioned over my family plans. Within minutes of meeting me, attendings and residents felt comfortable lecturing me on the difficulties of having children as a neurosurgeon. One attending even suggested I should ask my co-residents' permission before getting pregnant so as not to inconvenience them. I do not have children and have never indicated if I plan to have any. Truthfully, I do want children, but I would absolutely have foregone that to be a neurosurgeon. I wanted to be a neurosurgeon more than anything. But I was never asked: it was simply assumed that I would want to be a mother first. Purely because I'm a woman, my ambitions were constantly undermined, assumed to be lesser than those of my male peers. Women must want families, therefore women must be less committed. It was inconceivable that I might put my career first. It was impossible to disprove this assumption: what could I have done to demonstrate my commitment more than what I had already done by leading the interest group, taking a research year, doing a sub-I? My interest in neurosurgery would never be viewed the same way my male peers' was, no matter what I did. I would never be viewed as a neurosurgeon in the same way my male peers would be, because I, first and foremost, would be a mother. It turns out women don't even need to have children to be a mother: it is what you essentially are. You can't be allowed to pursue things that might interfere with your potential motherhood.
Furthermore, you are not trusted to know your own ambitions or what might interfere with your motherhood. I am an adult woman who has gone to medical school: I am well aware of what is required in reproduction, pregnancy, and residency, as much as one can be without experiencing it firsthand. And yet, it was always assumed that I had somehow shown up to a neurosurgery sub-I totally ignorant of the demands of the career and of pregnancy. I needed to be enlightened: always by men, often by childless men. Apparently, it was implausible that I could evaluate the situation on my own and come to a decision. I also couldn't be trusted to know what I wanted: if I said I wanted to be a neurosurgeon more than a mother, I was immediately reassured I could still have a family (an interesting flip from the dire warnings issued not five minutes earlier in the conversation). People could not understand my point, which was that I didn't care. I couldn't mean that, because women are fundamentally mothers. I needed to be guided back to my true role.
Because everyone was so confident in their sexist assumptions that I was less committed, I was not offered the same training, guidance, or opportunities as the men. I didn't have projects thrown my way, I didn't get check-ins or advice on my application process, I didn't get opportunities in the OR that my male peers got, I didn't get taught. I once went two whole days on my sub-I without anyone saying a word to me. I would come to work, avoid the senior resident I was warned hated trainees, figure out which OR to go to on my own, scrub in, watch a surgery in complete silence without even the opportunity to cut a knot, then move to the next surgery. How could I possibly become a surgeon in that environment? And this is all to say nothing of the rape jokes, the advice that the best way for a woman to match is to be as hot as possible, listening to my attending advise the male med students on how to get laid, etc.
At a certain point, it became clear it would be incredibly difficult for me to become a neurosurgeon. I wouldn't get research or leadership opportunities, I wouldn't get teaching or feedback, I wouldn't get mentorship, and I wouldn't get respect. I would have to fight tooth and nail for every single piece of my training, and the prospect was just exhausting. Especially when I also really enjoyed internal medicine, where absolutely none of this was happening and I even had attendings telling me I would be good at it (something that didn't happen in neurosurgery until I quit).
I've been told I should get over this, but I don't know how to. I don't know how to stop being mad about how thoroughly sidelined I was for being female. I don't know how to stop being bitter that my intelligence, commitment, and work ethic meant so much less because I'm a woman. I know I made the right decision to switch to internal medicine, and it probably would have been the right decision even if there weren't all these issues with the culture of neurosurgery, but I'm still so angry about how it happened.
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Wrong Number 4
Steve was eternally grateful that he'd finally told Robin about Eddie. Because now, he could torture her with his outfit choices. Robin groaned and covered her eyes as Steve held out more shirts.
"What do you think? Stripes or no stripes?"
"Steeeeeeve", Robin whined.
"You're the one that told me stripes really shows off my chest."
"Is Eddie a tits guy? Or an ass man?"
Steve put the shirts back in the closet. "I don't know. I don't know Robin and the fact that this is a video call date makes it worse."
"Actually....actually it makes it better." Robin uncovered her face and grabbed Steve's shoulders. "You'll be on the phone the whole time!"
"Yes...We've established this", Steve said, not sure where she was going with this.
"I mean, if you're doing a video call, YOU control what Eddie sees."
Steve stared at her face for a long while as she simply emoted using her eyebrows. "Robin, no."
"Robin, yes. Come on. We're going shopping. You're waaay overdue for this. And I need a couple of things myself."
"Things going that well with Chrissy?", Steve asked right before Robin threw his shoes at him.
"What do you think I'm doing while you're on your date?", Robin grinned.
-----------------------
Eddie's excitement just got more and more intense with each day. By Wednesday he was vibrating any time his hands weren't occupied with something. He only hoped it didn't translate to his texts. Cool as a cucumber, that was his motto when it came to Steve. He couldn't come on too strong.
(9:45 am) Thinking about those beefy thighs
(9:46 am) god i wanna wrap them around my head
Perfect. Smooth. And not too much.
At least he didn't think so at the time. About an hour later Eddie remembered that Steve was at work and possibly reading that text in a room full of prepubescents. And he knew he was going to reap what he sowed when Steve texted him later.
[12:01 pm] You are the ultimate distraction.
(12:02 pm) sry. i forgot you were at work
[12:03 pm] I don't think you are sorry. In fact, I think you need to be punished.
Eddie needed to get a job in coding because there was no emoji that properly conveyed the intensity of the 'boi-yoi-yoi-yoing' going on in his pants. How grateful he was that he didn't need to talk. Texting would cover any stuttering he was sure to do.
(12:04 pm) punishment? 😏
(12:04 pm) what kind of punishment?
[12:05 pm] See me after class, Mr. Munson.
God, four o'clock couldn't come fast enough. Eddie knew that'd be around the time Steve got home from work. He spent about an hour rolling around in bed before getting up, needing to distract himself. He wasn't due for work today, but he went in anyway to loiter.
"I can tell you're horny and I can tell you're just idling until you get your dick wet. Get lost, some of us have actual work to do", Jeff said.
Eddie let out a dramatic gasp. "Jeffery! Jeffords! Jeffaniel! Jeffanie!"
"Are you just going to sit there, making up full names for me or are you gonna get off your ass?"
"I'll replace all the boards and sweep out the alleys for the next two hours", Eddie said, holding his hands together like he was praying to his friend.
Jeff rubbed his chin as he considered it. "Only if you take this next party I have coming in."
Eddie looked at the group arriving. There had to be at least a dozen. And he just knew they only reserved one lane. They always only reserved one lane.
"You drive a hard bargain Jimothy."
"Not even close", Jeff crossed his arms. "And it's this or whatever ants in your pants you'll do if you're unoccupied."
Curse his friends for knowing him so well. Eddie held up his end of the deal, taking care of the party. Turned out it was a birthday party (happy 14th Ashton). But two hours later, the time had passed and Eddie went back home. He still had an hour to spare (he didn't want to leave Steve waiting), so he spent the rest of the time coming up with some ideas for their date in a few days.
[4:04 pm] Are you home?
(4:05 pm) At home and awaiting orders gorgeous
(4:05 pm) Have I been a bad boy Mr. Harrington?
Eddie's phone rang and he picked it up as he crashed onto his bed. He knew Steve could hear it when he laughed on the other end.
"You need to keep a tighter lid on those urges. It was a lucky break that all the kids were focused on their dishes that they didn't see the face I made."
"Truly, my bad Stevie. But I can't help what you do to me."
Steve chuckled. "Not even a little?"
"Not one bit. Okay, maybe a little bit. The truth is, I could've said a lot more, but I was holding back."
"Really now? And what would you have said if you weren't holding back?"
Eddie could hear something that sounded like movement in a bed. Steve was getting comfortable too. He thought about the picture he had saved, of Steve's lower body in those shorts. He had been laying in bed then too. Eddie let his mind wander for a bit. What he'd do if Steve were really in bed beside him...
"Baby if you were here right now, I'd have my hands all over you. You'd think I was an octopus."
"Tell me where you'd touch me first", Steve said.
"Well I'm still thinkin' of those legs of yours. You like massages, Stevie? I could rub you down all day."
Steve imagined Eddie digging his fingers into his muscles. That would really hit the spot, especially after a workout. "Mmm, and then?"
"And then I'd wrap them around my head, like I said. I saw what you were packin' in those shorts, baby. I would love to get my mouth on you."
Eddie heard Steve let out a soft moan and he definitely heard a zipper and some shifting. God, the image of Steve stroking himself... Eddie unzipped his pants too, palming at himself while the other hand kept an ever tightening hold on the phone.
"Eddieee..."
"I wanna hear everything, baby. I'm working so hard sucking you off, I deserve to know how good I'm making you feel."
"So good, uh", Steve let out a small breath at the end.
"Yeah? I haven't even told you how I'd rock your world yet", Eddie grinned.
"I just know...You're so good with your mouth."
"You like the way I lick you up and down? How I kiss that beautiful tip?" Eddie knew he had a dick just as handsome as the rest of him, never mind that he had yet to see Steve's whole face yet. His hand pumped up and down as he envisioned the weight of Steve in his mouth. He thought about getting drunk on that taste.
Eddie groaned and his eyes fluttered close, his mouth moving faster than his brain. "Do you shave Steve?"
"....No...is that a problem?"
"Ohh it's the opposite of a problem babe. I bet you got a thick bush. I'd sink all the way down, bury my nose in it while you're fucking my throat."
Steve let out the most delicious sound as he came and Eddie wasn't too far behind. It was like he was there, hairs coarse and curly rough against his skin while Steve moaned right into his ear.
"Mmm", Steve hummed. "I know you look good now. My cum dripping off your lips."
"I'd swallow it all, sweetness. I wouldn't waste a single drop." He would take all that Steve gave him and then some. He was a greedy man.
"I know you wouldn't. I don't allow anything to go to waste in my classroom. Have you learned your lesson, Mr. Munson?"
"Maaaybeee. I might need another lesson, Mr. Harrington. Say, this Friday, at eight?", Eddie teased.
"I suppose you'll need more help studying. Don't be late, mister."
-----------------------------
For once, Steve didn't linger after work. He made sure the kids cleaned up every last dish before the last period even ended. He even let them go a minute and a half before the bell. When Steve left, he went the back way to avoid most of the other teachers and that pre-weekend conversation. He got home right away and started getting ready. Robin had her own date tonight which meant he had limited time to get her help and last minute input.
When she got home from work, the apartment was a flurry of activity between them.
"Steve, I need the blow dryer!"
"Wait! I'm almost done!"
They both crashed into each other's spaces as they tried using the one bathroom mirror.
"Why can't you use your stupid vanity mirror?", Robin asked.
"That mirror is just for my hair and it's too small."
Robin gave him a side eye. "Is that my eyeliner?"
"Is that my face cream?"
For some reason, Robin insisted on getting dressed in his room, which meant at some points their outfits got switched around and they had to re-dress. The pandemonium finally quieted when Robin left for her date and Steve was at last alone for his. It was at 8:00 sharp that Eddie sent a text.
(8:00 pm) Knock knock 😙
Steve smiled as he started a video call. His heart fluttered at the thought of finally seeing Eddie's full face. So imagine his surprise when he was instead met with a hand that had a face drawn on it. And what could only be Eddie doing a deeper, character voice.
"Hello my love. Are you ready for the romancing tonight? I hope I get lucky, ehehehehe."
To which Steve couldn't help but burst out in laughter. Any nerves he might've had flew away.
"Oh, I don't know. I'm a proper young man. I don't think I could court with someone who was so...handsy."
"I wouldn't lay a finger on you without your permission, lovely. But maybe a few smooches. Muahmuahmuah!" Eddie's hand attacked his phone's camera with kisses and Steve giggled like it was actually touching him.
As his laughing fit subsided, only then did Eddie reveal his face. He took Steve's breath away. He was literally speechless and just stood there staring, which made Eddie start to squirm a little.
"You tryina turn me to stone, Medusa?", Eddie joked.
"Sorry!", Steve apologized when he realized he had been staring. "You just...you look really nice Eddie."
"You don't look too bad yourself, handsome", Eddie smiled.
That was putting it lightly. For the both of them really. Steve felt like he was talking to the perfect man. Eddie felt like Steve had walked right out of his wet dreams.
"So, what did you order?", Steve asked as he sat down at his table. He made sure his phone was angled that it only showed him from the waist up. Robin had the bright idea that since he could control what Eddie saw, he could wear whatever he wanted under the line of sight.
He was currently wearing a blue and white striped polo shirt. And beneath that, some lacy, navy blue panties. Maybe Eddie would find out, maybe he wouldn't. Steve had his phone on the table, propped up against some books.
"I ordered the Munson special. A grilled cheese with potato soup."
"Oh, that's a Munson special, hm?"
"Damn straight. Tomato soup is still a classic, but I'd die for a potato. What'd you get?"
"I have some leftover pasta that I just added some mushrooms too. Nothing too fancy."
"Unless it's one of those truffles", Eddie pointed out.
Steve rolled his eyes as he twirled his fork. "Truffles? On a teacher's salary?"
"Hey, you could be secretly rich."
"Oh if I win the lottery, there will be signs."
"Like 5th graders using authentic truffles", Eddie nodded to himself.
They kept talking throughout their dinner and then took each other to their sinks to wash the dishes together. Eddie talked more about his friends. Some of which he worked with and the band he was in. Steve wasn't super into metal, but he liked it enough to be interested in whatever Eddie did.
When they had talked about their date night and discussed their options, they decided on dinner and a movie. Once the dishes were cleaned, Steve took Eddie over to the living room and he sat down between the coffee table and propped him against another set of books as they both queued up the movie on their ends.
"You know it's been a really long time since I've seen this movie", Steve said. "I think I was literally a kid."
"There was a time when this was literally my religion", Eddie said as Quest for Camelot started to play.
Steve knew Eddie was into Dungeons & Dragons, so him being in love with a fantasy movie made total sense.
"Did you have a crush on Garrett when you were a kid?", Steve asked, later during the movie.
"'Did'? I'd still let him use that staff on me six ways to Sunday!"
Steve laughed and he was coming to realize he laughed with Eddie much more than any of his dates in a long while.
"I'm gonna go grab a drink", Steve said as he got up. He nearly asked Eddie if he wanted something. It really was like he was right there with him. Steve grabbed a soda and then came back, sitting down in his spot again when he saw Eddie's expression.
He was silent, which was rare.
His eyes were bulging out of his head and his hand was over his mouth.
Steve was about to ask what was wrong when Eddie's eyes flicked down and then Steve got it. He had stood up. In full view of his phone. And then turned to go into the kitchen.
Eddie had gotten a first rate view of his panties.
Part 6
Tag Team (CLOSED)
@anne-bennett-cosplayer @estrellami-1 @newtstabber @omletlove @ifyoudonlysurrender @rehfan @morganski-19 @corvidcantina @dragonmama76 @just-ladyme @tinyplanet95 @goodolefashionedloverboi @idoquitelikebread @kittydeadbones @manda-panda-monium @rhapsodyinalto @paintsplatteredandimperfect @keylime-green @ihavekidneys @samsoble @honorarybrit81 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @aizawa-emma @deleataecount @thesuninyaface @fromapayphone @justmeinadaze @hbyrde36 @queenie-ofthe-void @resident-gay-bitch @bestwifehaver @dangdirtydemons @ellietheasexylibrarian @perseus-notjackson @pyrohonk @holysteddie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @mrsjellymunson @geekymagicalpotato @notaqueenakhaleesi
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