#and it's SO SOFT

[obvious-captain-rogers]

I'm thinking of writing a Steddyhands fic and writing the backstory for it is so much fun

[lollaika]

Chapter 7 of The Agony is here!!!!

After half a year of difficulty finding the time and the creative energy to write, finally Chapter 7 is finished!! Featuring Season 4 happenings and Eddie's slow descent into a closer orbit around Steve. Excerpt below the readmore.

I am so happy with how it turned out and I want to thank @cuips-not-cute for all the support he gave me and all the effort he put in his drawings for this fic. I couldn't have done it without you, so from the bottom of my heart THANK YOU!!! <3

“You know you don’t have to do it. Give me that alibi, I mean.”

“I know.” Steve’s voice is flat. Two little words don’t allow for a lot of inflection, but there’s usually emphasis, anyway. Eddie had made a study of it, how many different ways you could say a word and have it change meaning because of it. He can’t read any meaning into Steve’s, though. Maybe tiredness.

“Then why do it?” He doesn’t know why he asks. Maybe the silence is getting to him, maybe he wants a distraction, maybe he just wants to listen to Steve more, to get him to talk as long as he needs to let out some kind of emotion.

“Because the best lie is telling a truth different from the one asked for. I thought you roleplaying types knew that.”

“Us roleplaying types. Right, cause we’re all the same.” He’s poking the bear, provoking, annoying. The coffee is still warm in his hands and the kitchen is cozy and well lit. Chrissy hovers in his thoughts.

“Yeah, you are. Kinda like us jocks are all the same.”

Eddie’s not used to being called out. He’s the oldest, the leader, undisputed, unfought. He thinks back to yesterday evening, to the last session of his Vecna campaign that by now seems to have happened months ago. Steve had made the same point then, too. Had said that it was Eddie reinforcing the stereotypes, keeping up the boundaries of artificial categorization into social cliques. He wasn’t wrong. It sucks to admit. But the memory reminds him that he hasn’t seen one of his new sheep for the last two days.

“What about Sinclair? If Henderson and Wheeler are involved in this, he’s involved, too, I guess?”

Steve nods. “Both of them,” he says. “Lucas got involved in ‘83 when it started, ‘cause you know Will went missing and the twerps couldn’t let it lie. And thank God they didn’t. I hate that they had to do it, but I shudder to think of what would have happened if they’d given up. We told him yesterday, and he’s chosen to stay with Jason, so he can make sure Jason doesn’t start doing stupid stuff, like going to search for a murderer he won’t find. And then Erica joined in ‘85 for the mall. Was in the Russian base with Dustin, Robin, and me. Great spatial memory retention. I wish I’d kept her out of it. Wish I’d kept Dustin out, too, but he’s the one who found the original transmission, so that would’ve been a lost cause.”

So, this is the way to get Steve to talk. Of course, it is. Even if Eddie had disbelieved the reports of a barbarian Steve Harrington – and shame on him for that – it had been plain from the way the kids talked about him that Steve genuinely loved them, each of them. Which is why Eddie does what he does best. He doubles down.

“God, I can imagine, he’s like a dog with a bone, that one. I’ve never met a child more insistent on getting their way than him.”

“Yeah,” there’s a soft little smile on Steve’s lips. Eddie wants to keep it there. “Only one who wins against him solo is Erica and that's because she’s a terror. Never ever make a deal with her, because she’s going to take you for all you’re worth and not feel a whit of guilt about it.”

“Awesome kids, though.”

“The best.”

There are deeper things they could talk about, more important things too, things that have accumulated between them in dried blood and corpses, in open wounds and broken spirits. But it’s just as warming as the coffee is, to see Steve open up a bit more, to see him light up from within, see his eyes start to shine, recalling memories with extreme fondness. Eddie doesn’t dare change the topic.

[so-long-soldier28]

TATE SWEATERRRR

[emblazonet]

Omg I'm so hype, I found a vintage 90s 100% lamb black leather coat at a thrift store yesterday and it's FULL OF POCKETS (with button flaps and zips on it!) and it not only fits perfectly but it's got lots of ease and movement in the arms. There's barely any wear on it, just a bit around the cuffs. And the kicker? It was only $38!

[sga-owns-my-soul]

ronan/woolsey for ship bingo because you're insane

i am insane and i appreciate this so much bc i always want more reasons to scream about them bc i'm SO insane about this ship

[babygirlsteddie]

guys idk if y'all know how often i think of steve and eddie when i listen to the lyrics "one night, he wakes, strange look on his face. pauses, then says, 'you're my best friend' and you knew what it was, he!!!! is!!!! in!!! love!!!!!" but it's every time i listen to them.

[frogbi]

making bread tn :))))

[happyheidi]

𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗅 𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗎 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝖺𝗒 ♡

𝗏𝗂𝖺: 𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗁𝗂𝗅𝗅_𝗓𝗈𝗈

[ingravinoveritas]

"We've all got to be fighting that fight every day."

Happy Pride, everyone...

[starsofang]

Simon didn’t like to hold you. He liked to be held.

At first, you didn’t understand why he’d turn his back to you in bed without saying anything. You thought you’d done something to him, or maybe he was in a bad mood. You couldn’t be any more wrong.

Simon Riley, an absolute brute of a soldier, was silently asking for you to be the big spoon. You nearly didn’t believe it when he finally brought it to your attention.

He was too embarrassed to ask you, so he’d resort to flipping on to his side and wait. And wait. Until he realized you didn’t catch the memo, even after many hopeless attempts.

In his mind, he thought being the big spoon would somehow convince you he wasn’t manly enough, as if his title in the service or his pure stature wasn’t proof enough of his masculinity.

To him, being held was a blanket of security. Where he’d always have to watch his back out on the field, both literally and metaphorically, he didn’t have to keep an eye out at all times with you. It was a chance for him to find solace in a person, and when he explained this to you, he was surprised to find you so willing.

And oh, when it happened, Simon nearly kicked himself for holding back on verbalizing it for so long.

The warmth of your arms when they wrapped around him from behind, your face buried between his shoulder blades, legs tangled in his, he thought that this was what inner peace felt like.

He was silly to think you’d ever be the one to judge him for what most deemed ‘unmasculine’. In all of his broad glory, he felt safe the moment you held him, like a child does when they feel a mother’s embrace except it was from someone he loved dearest to his heart.

And you? You found that being the big spoon was rather enjoyable when the man you’re holding was so damn comfortable to snuggle up to. It was a win-win for you both.

You just wished he wasn’t an idiot that left you wondering all those hopeless nights until the truth came out.

[feminineflavors]

@naughtyapplepie

🍎🥧🧁

[yellowvixen]

week 32: transparent!

[atompalace-official]

[sga-owns-my-soul]

reblog to give ur mutuals a soft lil kissy on the head

[watmalik]

Alcohol can't kill Logan, but it can affect him. Wade can't kill Logan, but he can—oh.

[spineless-lobster]

Hey so if you guys here any pained animalistic sobs and/or wails don’t mind that it’s only me thinking about the house of hades family portraits