#how to date a guy

[peachedm00ns]

Need to see my five poly boyfriends NOW!!!!!

[jabesa0]

My Siren By The Seashore 🌊🐚

[hairmetal666]

Eddie owns a record store, gets to talk about music everyday. Life is good. Great, actually.

He's consolidating the Christian rock section on a quiet Wednesday morning when it happens. A man with swoopy dark hair, tight dark blue jeans, and a plum Member's Only jacket walks in, and doesn't take his Ray Bans off even once he's solidly inside.

Eddie is awestruck. This dude is gorgeous. Heart stopping. He watches him browse in quiet astonishment, unable to say anything until he blurts, "Can I help you find something?"

The man smiles--Eddie's heart stops--and he says, "Nah, just browsing. Your sign caught my eye."

And he's still not quite with the program, the rich honey of the man's voice taking him totally by surprise. "Ah, oh, it did?" He manages after a few long beats. "Painted it myself."

"No shit? It's great."

"Thanks, man. I also think it's some of my finest work."

The guy laughs. "How can I know unless I see some of your other pieces?"

Eddie's face heats, but he's never been known for having good impulse control. "Maybe you'll get lucky."

Spots of pink bloom on the man's cheeks and the tips of his ears. "And here I was, thinking I was getting special treatment."

Eddie cocks his head, smiles big. "Well, the day's still young." It's so risky and stupid; no way this guy is queer, but he grins at Eddie, laughs a little too.

"That right? Well, tell me your latest recommendations."

"For you?" Eddie eyes him up and down. "Wham!"

The guy's laugh is warm and rich and Eddie wants to drown in it. "Big of you to say for a someone who's only listened to Enter Sandman for the last four months."

Eddie cackles, points a be-ringed finger. "It's a good song! A great record."

"Hey, I've got no problem with Metallica. I just don't think you should be casting aspersions on Wham!."

"Casting aspersions, do you have a word of the day calendar or some shit?"

"No! It's toilet paper."

Their snickers grow until they're both hysterical, needing to lean against a display to stay upright.

It's like he's living in a dream, hitting it off with a beautiful man who just happened to stumble into his store. They catch their breath and Eddie uses the time to grab a record off a nearby shelf.

"Here," he says. "Try this."

"Joni Mitchell?"

"Don't tell me, Wham! fan, that you're too cool for Joni."

"Nah, she's my best friend's favorite. How much do I owe you?"

"On the house," Eddie shrugs.

"Shit, that's generous. Thanks, man. Now, about your art--" He glances at the shiny watch on his wrist. "Fuck, is it really 3:15? Goddamnit, I gotta get going."

And Eddie wants to call him back, doesn't want this dream encounter to end, but he's dashing to the door--

And just like that, the man is gone, the only evidence it ever happened the lingering chime of the bell over the door.

The bell clatters again, and his head wrenches up hard enough it hurts his neck.

"Was that Steve Harrington?" the customer shrieks.

"No," he scoffs. Except. Except. The hair and the clothes and sunglasses and the face and his lips--

"No!?" He feels the way his eyes have gone wide with panic. He didn't just flirt with Steve Harrington. Of course not. Not ever. He would've recognized--

He runs to the racks of magazines in front of the register, grabbing the latest issue of People. The cover features a glossy, polished photo of the man who just left the store. The one who had the highest grossing movie of the summer alongside his co-star, Julia Roberts. The one who, according to the article within, is in Chicago right now shooting a new movie. The one who Eddie flirted with. The one who flirted back.

He groans and covers his face with his hands. At least he'll never see Steve Harrington again.

---

Harrington comes back.

The second time, he's wearing a jewel blue polo and fitted slacks, Ray Bans nowhere to be seen.

"Got anymore recommendations?" Steve asks.

"What?" Eddie's still trying to accept that Harrington came back.

"I finished Joni. It was good. Recommend something else for me."

Fully with the program, he reaches to the rack behind him, handing the vinyl to Steve without ever taking his eyes off him.

"Seriously?" Steve deadpans.

"Tell me you don't deserve it after last time."

Steve studies the cover of Metallica, a complicated look on his face. "Fine, but you have to listen to the album George Michael released last year."

He mimics getting shot in the heart. "After my magnanimous first suggestion, you dare to punish me with Freedom?"

"Think of it more as an opportunity."

"To regret every decision I've ever made?"

"To expand your musical horizons."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Fiiiine. It's a deal."

Steve beams. "Good! Ring me up."

And Eddie, he'd comp it again, but Steve gives him this look that tells him not to try it.

As they pass the magazine racks, Eddie points at one featuring Steve on the cover. "That thing you wore to the Vanity Fair party last month was hideous."

Steve snorts, then laughs. "Thanks. My stylist decided to go for something--"

"--terrible?--"

"Avant garde."

"Oh, is that what they're calling it these days?"

Steve pays, throws Eddie one last smile, "next time?"

Eddie nods, already certain this time is the last one.

---

He keeps coming back.

Eddie tries not to read into it.

Steve is straight, famously has a girlfriend. former horror movie child star turned cinema wunderkind, Nancy Wheeler. They're always on the covers of the tabloids, in ever more improbable stories about affairs and secret babies and french countryside weddings.

But he keeps coming back. And eventually, they grab dinner. And that dinner becomes lunches, movies, clubs, concerts. Eddie's in paparazzi photos, and there's no speculation about their relationship. Steve has a girlfriend.

But sometimes. Sometimes Steve will rest his hand on Eddie's nape, his lower back, let it linger. He'll trace a finger down the tattoos on Eddie's forearms or the patches of his battle vest. He'll lean too close when they talk, unafraid to press their bodies together. And he catches Steve's eyes on his mouth more than once, his pupils wide.

Over the next few weeks, Steve's gaze on Eddie's mouth gets hotter, his looks longer, and it's killing him. All he wants to do, all he ever wants to do, is close the distance between them, appease the gnawing beast of desire in his chest.

But Steve has a girlfriend.

They don't talk about her, not even when he knows all about Steve's best friend, Robin, and the gang of kids who adopted him, or Joyce and Hopper, his surrogate parents. Never Nancy.

He tries not to read into it.

---

They're supposed to meet for dinner. Steve scored reservations at a trendy new restaurant, but Eddie's late. Astronomically, horrifically late. It's pouring rain, it takes fifteen minutes to get a cab, traffic is a nightmare.

Out of patience and time, he decides to run the last few blocks to the restaurant. By the time he reaches the building, he's soaked to the bone, spluttering harsh breaths through mouthfuls of rain.

Steve is walking in the opposite direction, hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat.

"Steve?" He calls.

He turns and this is the first time Eddie's seen him angry. "You're late," Steve's eyes rake over him, and his face softens in an instant. He takes Eddie's wrist, leads him into an alley where the buildings are close enough to block some of the rain.

"What happened?"

"Traffic."

Steve's gaze go all soft and gentle, and Eddie's knees buckle a little. "You look like a drowned rat."

"Yeah, well." Eddie scoffs. "We can't all be beautiful movie stars."

"You're more beautiful than I could ever be, even soaking wet."

He shakes his head, ignoring the cascade of butterflies; Steve shouldn't say things like that. His vigorous movement sends wet strands of hair slapping him in the face.

Steve reaches out, softly brushes it back.

Eddie stops breathing.

Steve closes the distance between them.

What a thing, to be kissed by Steve Harrington. What a terrible, glorious thing.

He breaks it fast, face red, can't catch his breath. "Nancy," is all he can say.

"Nancy?"

"You have a girlfriend."

Steve's face scrunches. "She's not my girlfriend."

Eddie's mouth drops. "Yes, she is." They went to the Oscars together.

"Eddie." Steve takes a few steps back. "Eddie. I'm gay."

He laughs, an ugly honking thing. "C'mon. What could she possibly get out of that?"

Steve's eyes widen, eyebrows reaching his hairline, mouth pursed in a bitchy line. It takes Eddie a minute but, "Ohhhhh. So, it's all--?"

"It was the best way."

"But you're--?"

"I thought you clocked me immediately! Wham!???"

"That was because of the jacket!"

"Have you ever met a straight man who dresses like I do and likes George Michael??"

"That describes five dudes I see a day!"

"And you thought they were straight??"

Eddie stares into the middle distance, replaying some of those interactions, and--"Huh. Okay. I get hit on at work waaay more than I realized."

"For fuck's sake, Eddie!" He's shaking his head, but Eddie sees the way the corners of his mouth shake with suppressed laughter.

"I'm sorry! You have a very public straight relationship!"

Steve giggles, pulls Eddie close. "Is this okay?"

"So okay."

"You do like me back?"

"Are you kidding! Thought I was going insane, how much I want you."

"And now?"

"Come back to my place?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

And Eddie, he's seen Steve playing at love dozens of times, but this--right here, in a soggy, smelly alley where they're both soaking wet--it's more perfect than any movie.

[spykarp]

small doodles for my small man,,,,

[cobaltfluff]

competitive aquarium date

bonus: the night before

[lovelylittlegrim]

I really love the idea of a supportive Wayne Munson buying books and zines on bisexuality to give to Eddie. And Eddie who mistakenly thinks that Wayne is trying to come out to him when all Wayne was trying to do was show Eddie that it’s okay to like girls and guys and that maybeee Eddie’s friendship with Steve Harrington isn’t as platonic as the two young men think.

So now Wayne’s just accepting a big hug from a supportive Eddie. And listening to Eddie tell him how proud he is for coming out and asking if Wayne has found someone and if maybe that’s why he’s decided to tell Eddie now and Wayne is just flummoxed on what he’s supposed to do now.

“Now wait just a minute,” Wayne is trying to say.

“Dont even worry about it,” Eddie claps him on the shoulders. “We’ll have you a boyfriend in no time.”

Eddie does take the books though because he wants to be “the best ally” for Wayne.

(Eddie Bursts into Wayne’s room like a week later all wide eyed and frantic, holding one of the books and is just like ‘is being gay hereditary?’ Because holy shit Eddie’s pretty sure he’s bisexual too and half in love with Steve Harrington)

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Aroace Sonic Pt 7

Sonic the Hedgehog everybody

[succo-al-limone]

Nightwing finds them tussling on the ground and sighs

[cowardlykrow]

“Not my circus, not my monkeys”… Except those are his monkeys and they are the circus

[bixels]

tarpit site.

[swingstep]

...If that is what you say.

[fujokafka]

there's only one thing brad could do that would make me stop resenting him for borrowing a huge amount of screentime from other main characters of the show and that is going up to buck right after a call and asking "so how long have you and the fit bloke there been dating?" while pointing to eddie in the back just doing his own thing. which obviously would lead to buck trying to hold his breath until he dies

[knifearo]

ultimately when it comes to shipping and fandom space treatment of aspec characters i just don't accept "aro/ace people can still date/have sex" as an answer from nonaspecs. like yeah. mhm. okay. now i think we both know that you're not saying that out of real interest in the diversity of aspec experiences. so you can turn in your seventeen-page essay on why and how you plan to examine this character's aspec identity within the context of a romantic or sexual relationship complete with evidence from canon and peer reviews from multiple aspec people within the next week or i'm putting you in the pit from the edgar allen poe story

[flwrkid14]

The Tim Drake Heartthrob Conspiracy – Part 2: A Heartthrob with Loser Rizz

So, Tim Drake is Gotham’s newest heartthrob. Cool, right? Except, well… there’s one tiny problem.

For all the brooding good looks, the sharp jawline, and that mysterious allure that has Gotham swooning, Tim Drake has absolutely no game. Like, zero. Nada. It’s a full-blown mystery how this man, who looks like he belongs on magazine covers, can be such a disaster in the romance department.

It all started with his date after that iconic moment when he rolled into the Batcave in that tailored suit. Everyone expected the night to go smoothly. It was Tim, after all—Mr. CEO, Mr. I-Can-Run-A-Multi-Billion-Dollar-Company. Surely, that would translate to his love life, right?

Wrong.

The next morning, Dick was the first to catch Tim yawning over his third cup of coffee. “Rough night?” he asked with a knowing smirk.

Tim just groaned, “I fell asleep on the rollercoaster.”

Dick blinked. “Wait, you fell asleep? On the rollercoaster?”

Tim sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I hadn’t slept in two days, and it was… kinda relaxing? The adrenaline and all.”

And that was just the beginning.

Steph found out later that Tim had somehow managed to spill soda on his date twice—once while trying to explain a complicated merger (because who doesn’t love business talk on a date?) and then again when he tripped over his own chair. By the end of the night, his date probably thought she was being pranked.

Cass, being Cass, summed it up perfectly: “Tim is Gotham’s biggest heartthrob, but he’s also Gotham’s most awkward date.”

Jason, of course, had to weigh in. “This is the same guy who walked into a glass door because he was distracted by a text.”

Let’s not forget the infamous “flower shop incident.” Tim, trying to be romantic, went to pick up flowers before another date, but things quickly went south. How? Well, let’s just say, when you knock over five vases, trip into a display of roses, and end up covered in petals, it’s hard to look suave.

By the time the Batfam heard about that little misadventure, Damian had had enough. “Drake, how is it that you have the charisma of a plank of wood?”

Still, Tim doesn’t mean to be such a disaster. It’s just, well, life seems to have it out for him when he’s trying to impress someone. He once spent an entire dinner talking about the intricacies of encryption algorithms—his date didn’t even make it to dessert. And don’t even mention the time he thought bringing homemade spreadsheets to a movie date would be cute. (Spoiler: It wasn’t.)

Yet, somehow, despite all of this, the mystery of Tim Drake continues to deepen. People are still thirsting after him. The forums are still buzzing with talk of his “quiet charm” and “endearing quirks.” Even his awkward moments somehow manage to add to his appeal, giving him this relatable, down-to-earth vibe that no one in Gotham can seem to resist.

And so, the Batfamily remains baffled. Tim may be Gotham’s biggest heartthrob, but when it comes to actual dating?

He’s a disaster wrapped in a perfectly tailored suit.

[ienvysomegays]

brb crying over kevin day and history

[montelotl]

chance crush hcs! ❤️🎲

• He’s a passionate dork and nerd, wrapped in that cute dicey hoodie of his. Despite his bursts of confidence from rolling a Nat 20, Chance can’t help but gasp when you congratulate him. Especially with your supportive hand squeezing his broad shoulder.

Poor man forgets how to breathe, making everyone at the table raise an obvious eyebrow. The guy’s face is painted red, matching the dice he just tossed out.

• The man calls everyone ‘maiden’ or ‘sir’ or ‘liege’, but the GnG master purposely bows in front of you while greeting. Embarrassing at first, you’ve shrugged it off at this point and lower your head in tandem.

One time, before he could even speak, you bowed and gently grabbed his hand. Lowering your lips, you grazed the soft skin of Chance’s knuckles.

“Good afternoon, dear dungeon master.” Your voice drops an octave, fighting back a chuckle.

It was meant as a joke, but once you looked up…

Chance was clutching his mouth. Cheeks flared red, his brain was trying to find the appropriate response to a fantasy he’s dreamed about.

• Chance purposely leaves a seat, next to him, open for you during GnG. But if Lux or Parker steal the stool, he’ll make up a bad random reason to move.

“No offense, Lux… your ring light is brighter than usual. I’ll just sit next to (Y/N) today.”

“Parker! What did I tell you about bringing another board game? If you don’t respect my passion, then I’ll sit next to someone who does!”

“Oh! Just realized this is not the proper position to conduct any dungeoning. Just going to—“

—> Picks up the stool and plops it right next to you.

• We all have to agree that he would write roleplay of his original characters with yours.

The times he does get to be a normal participant, he’s giggling with you about what your blorbos will do this session. Maybe they’ll hold hands to get across a ravine? Share a bed? Kiss to get the snake venom out from their tongue?

Chance, kicking his feet, at writing how his OC will sweep your OC off their feet.

• If he catches you flirting with another object, he’ll think nothing of it. Everyone in this damn house is dating each other.

BUT, it does sting a bit when you’re indulging in a game with someone else. Their hyperfixations, their infatuations. Indulging in that person’s passions, having utter fun, looking deeply in their eyes when they talk about their obssession—

Chance forces himself to have a cheery smile in present company.

“You … sure have a knack at this, huh (Name)?”

• Ending on a positive note, Chance loves giving praise. Even if he doesn’t have any reason to speak to you—

“H-Hey (Name)! Cool socks, today! Trying to slide around in style?”

“(Name)! … Um… Just wanted to say nice play last session… haha!”

But the holy damn pick-up lines—

“Holy crit… I failed my saving throw against your irresistible charm.”

“Another 20? You sure you didn’t distract me like you always do?”

“You’re lucky I didn’t check your character sheet today. Call it cheating to have your stats match how you perfect you are.”

Even if they end in cheesy pick up lines, crickets absolutely chirping… your heart grows another size at his adorkableness.