#ok ok i'll be quiet now

[stevebabey]

part one here. ze part two to touch-starved stevie that absolutely no one requested hehe <3 but i gots to let my boys have a wee kiss :")

So, hugs with Eddie become… well, a thing.

Not a thing. They’re not a thing, Steve and Eddie. It’s totally the same as when he gets hugs from Robin. Eddie’s doing him a favour as a friend. It’s got the 100% platonic energy of getting a hug from a friend — a hug that usually melts into some form of a cuddle, limbs all tangled together until they can’t tell whose are whose.

Except, Steve doesn’t really do that second part with Robin. Like he hasn’t done it ever with Robin.

So, it’s an Eddie thing.

But they’re not a thing. Not matter how much Steve would actually very much like for that happen. Okay, maybe Steve’s overthinking the whole thing a bit, but he just can’t tell.

Where’s the line? It’s infuriating not being able to discern between platonic and more, just because Steve wasn’t held enough as a fucking baby. Out of all the things he resents his parents for, Steve’s surprised that this is so near the top.

Because, sure, Steve’s had more than his fair share of hookups. He knows that sort of touch. He knows the shape of lust; the scrapes of fingernails down backs, the tight grips over skin, the push and pull of the heat of the moment.

And this thing with Eddie… is not that.

So, really, Steve knows that it’s all friendly. Eddie is just being nice. He’s being a decent dude and helping his friend out — by catapulting himself into Steve’s arms at every opportune moment.

(Steve’s only dropped 3 mugs of coffee because of this so far. It’s only because Eddie says good catch, big boy with a devilish grin every time that Steve manages to catch Eddie that Steve hasn’t completely told him to knock it off. Just yet, at least.)

And he’s different in other areas. He’ll always seem to choose the seat next to Steve on movie-nights now, content to snuggle right up to him. They get thigh to thigh, arm to arm — and Eddie only needs to get about 20 minutes in for him to do a big sigh, like an old dog, and slump over, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve notices though. He always notices.

It’s impossible not to— the skin, even if there’s 3 layers between them, burns blazing warm. Eddie’s hair drapes over his arm, a curl inevitably tickling along Steve’s collar. He can feel the rise and fall of Eddie’s breathing, the little shake of when he laughs.

It drives Steve a little insane— insane in the way that makes him think about burying his fingers in those curls again, about pressing his lips against Eddie’s pretty mouth just to feel the smile against his skin, about digging into his chest so he can climb into his chest and live there.

Yeah, it’s— well, it’s safe to say that the effect of Eddie’s touchiness has sent what was once a fleeting thought of a crush into mind-melting levels of affection.

But he can’t fucking tell.

-

To Steve’s credit, neither can Eddie.

Which is not surprisingly considering sometimes he catches himself wondering how the hell he ended up here; in a close-knit friendship with band-geek Robin Buckley, princess Nancy Wheeler, and King Steve Harrington.

Okay, the Robin one sort of makes sense. He thinks that if no matter when their paths crossed, he and Robin would’ve always even some sort of strange friends - her snark complimenting his bitchiness. Also, the whole super queer thing helps too. Even the friendship with Nancy works, in its own weird way.

Steve though? He’s the fucking curve ball.

It works though, the two of them. Surprisingly well, actually — the two of them get on like a house on fire, bitchy quips back and forth. Even better, is the quiet that they can share. Steve loves to come around and do… nothing. Do nothing with Eddie, though.

So, even though Eddie had noticed the tension in Steve with touch, little moments where he turned rigid when Eddie’s usual wandering hands got too comfortable — Eddie chalked it up to the usual. Guys bring too uncomfortable with him, too weird about another guy being touchy. It didn’t matter than Eddie wasn’t even out to Steve yet, he was still might be that type of guy.

Well, Eddie had certainly thought so. Sure, Steve might not be one of those jocks who smacked around boys who looked too long in the locker room, but if he knew a smidge of the truth, who really knows. It would explain the tenseness at least.

But then— ‘Can I… have a hug?’ There had been a dozen things Eddie was thinking that Steve could’ve asked for but that? Wasn’t even in the ballpark. It was so left-field it left Eddie speechless for a whole moment. And Steve had been staring at the ceiling, his hands curled up tight again like- like he thought Eddie might say no.

A ridiculous thought, honestly. Anyone who knew Eddie well enough knew he was touchy; loved giving it, loved getting it. Like an overly affectionate cat, Wayne had once called him, just 11 years old, because Eddie’s need for affection seem to never be sated.

After that night, Steve’s lack of touch became far more obvious. It’s always hair ruffles or high-fives, yet never hugs. Normally, Eddie would keep to that boundary; some people are less touchy other than others, he knows that.

But… “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile, since I’ve had some touch.” That’s what Steve had said, his words. Eddie doesn’t even think he meant to say something so heartbreaking. In fact, the guy seemed embarrassed.

It had thrown Eddie for a loop— because Steve gets around. He’s nearly notorious for one-night stands and failed flings, as Robin loves to drone on about considering she’s subjected to all the flirting. What had originally been a point of envy for Eddie, just saturates the bleakness of Steve’s words. Sex but without a moment of intimacy.

So, while Eddie is miles away from being the person who gets into Steve’s pants — not for lack of want, mind you — he does try hike up the touchiness. Little things. Lingering when he taps him on the arm, hooking his chin over Steve’s shoulder to peer over it, leaning up against him when they’re side by side watching a film.

It’s good. It helps Eddie release the pressure of his stupid monumental god-awful crush he has. Yeah, yeah, it’s laughable, even to Eddie. It’s like Gay 101; don’t get crush on straight dudes, especially the ones you’re friends with. And yet…

Steve lets him. He lets Eddie give him touch, more than he lets anyone else. He still tenses; there’s still always a moment before he can remember to relax, like he’s trying to shake off bad thoughts but then he melts. He always melts into Eddie’s touch eventually — in a way Eddie knows Steve actually loves it, drinks it up as much as he can.

And maybe, Eddie is the biggest fool to grace the Earth to let that fact give him some hope. Sue his gooey heart, he’s a romantic. It’s a quiet hope but, it’s there.

Tonight, it seems relaxing for Steve is been harder than usual— several times has Eddie traced a quite long along Steve’s arms, a subtle point that they were far too tense for someone who was wrapped up in cuddles on the couch. ‘Cos that’s 100% what they are now. Eddie will still call them hugs, but usually, when it’s just the two of them, it becomes this.

Steve, tucked up into the corner of the couch, one leg flush along the back of the couch and one hanging off the edge. It’s the prime position for Eddie to crawl up, wind his arms around Steve’s middle and give him a good squeeze and then settle there. Head on Steve’s chest, lying in the cradle of his hips. Safe. Warm.

It makes him warm, oh very warm to know that he gets this. That Steve doesn’t give this amount of trust to many, if any, other people but Eddie — he trusts Eddie.

“Y’know,” Eddie says, cheeks smushed against the plain of Steve’s pec. It feels deliciously warm and Eddie’s fairly sure he can feel how toned it is just through his cheek. Hot bastard. “I’m actually real glad you asked for that hug all those weeks ago.”

He leaves it there ‘cos he knows Steve will ask. Eddie’s eyes stay on the buzzing tv-screen even as Steve’s head shifts, turning to peer down at the boy slumped on his chest. Eddie’s pretty sure he can see Steve’s mouth twitch up into a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie affirms, giving a nod and his eyes flick up to meet Steve’s for just a moment. “Think I’ve had some of the best hugs in the world.”

Okay, that was maybe more honest and sappy than Eddie was going for. He is just letting Steve know he isn’t just doing it for Steve — that he enjoys these moments just as much. He lays it on thick, tries for a smarmy angle.

“Swept up in these pillowy arms?” He croons, giving Steve’s bicep a quick squeeze, making the other chuckle softly. “Who wouldn’t think so? I’m a lucky guy.”

Despite the joking tone, there’s no quick comeback from Steve. That’s alright. Eddie’s quite happy if this is one of the times Steve just takes the compliment; let’s the word sink in and hopefully, believes them, even if it’s just a little bit. He watches the film and doesn’t read into the silence.

Not even when Steve says, “Eddie?” all soft. Nearly shy sounding. It doesn’t quite register to Eddie’s ears.

“Mm?”

“Eddie.” Steve says again, a little firmer and that catches Eddie’s attention. He turns his head and rests his chin on Steve’s chest, his brows drawn together in silent question.

But the moment he makes eye contact, Steve’s doing that scrunched up face again. Is studying the ceiling instead of facing Eddie. And just like all those weeks ago, his hands clench up tight. Twists up the fabric of Eddie’s sweater in between his fingers and uses it to ground himself.

Last time, he asked for a hug. Considering he’s currently just about squishing Steve beneath his body weight, Eddie can’t fathom what he might be worked up to ask for. Unless he was going to ask for something more than a hug— which, well, just wasn’t going to happen, even if Eddie really wanted it to.

“Can I-” Steve starts. He sucks in a breath, almost like he’s gathering courage. But he’s not, because he’s not about to ask for what Eddie hopes for, he’s not, he’s—

Unless…?

“Can I… have a kiss?” Steve asks, barely audible. The sentence is murmured, soft words that hit Eddie like a gentle kiss in itself — imprinting right onto his heart. Steve Harrington wants a kiss — from him!

“Oh.” Eddie says, in a breathy delightful way. He’s fairly certain the little monkey in his brain is clapping its cymbals at double-speed as the words process; or maybe it’s his heart, which feels like it’s leapt up his throat.

“Oh?” Steve echoes, a smile already playing at the edges of his mouth, because he can see Eddie’s want. Because he knows him.

“Yes.” Eddie says suddenly, with a frantic nod, pushing up closer so their faces are aligned. “Yes, absolutely, you can.” He affirms.

Steve huffs a quiet laugh at the eagerness and then his arm that had been slung around Eddie shifts. It moves up til his hand caresses along the line of Eddie’s jaw, tilting him just how he likes.

Eddie holds his breath. Counts the freckles he can see this close. Tries to feel Steve’s heartbeat through where they’re pressed so closely together; can Steve feel his? Thundering and hurried, beating so hard Eddie thinks he might bruise the inside of his ribs.

Then Steve kisses him. And shit, Steve’s lip are better by ten-fold than every daydream Eddie’s ever had about them. They’re warm and so soft — plush and pressing against his own and Eddie is freezing. Fuck, wait, how does this go again? Right, Eddie’s never… well, kissed anybody before.

Steve pulls back and Eddie screws his eyes up — not ready in the slightest for the disappointment of his own shoddy kissing skills. Fuck, did he really just freeze? Steve — Steve Harrington — asks for a kiss and Eddie decides to stab himself in the back by not figuring out how to fuck to kiss back.

“You call that a kiss?” Steve teases and Eddie’s well aware of the parallel — of the irony of Steve repeating his own words back at him. But he can’t make himself laugh even though it’s funny. Instead, a little groan wiggles out his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, earnest. He forces his eyes opens — he needs to see what’s Steve’s thinking. Where he’s expecting disappointment or perhaps regret, is only patience. Maybe a touch of concern. Eddie continues, despite the humiliation that makes his throat sticky.

“I haven’t- I don’t do this often.” He coughs awkwardly clearing his throat and hoping it hides the next word. “Ever.”

There’s a jump in Steve’s eyebrows, a moment of surprise in his eyes that lets him know he did, indeed, hear that final word. It makes Eddie feel… well, it’s nice that Steve had expected him to have been kissed by now. Even if he hasn’t. He tries to take it as a compliment.

“That’s okay,” Steve assures. Absentmindedly, his thumb rubs soothing along Eddie’s jaw. It makes Eddie shiver, some outrageous amount of joy clawing into every nerve. Steve likes Eddie. He wants to kiss Eddie.

“Do you want to try again?”

Eddie nods before the questions even out of his mouth. Steve smiles, all sunshine. This time when he draws Eddie in, he notices the way Eddie holds his breath — the rigidness in his body.

Steve kisses him again, another short and soft one and then whispers against his lips, “Relax.”

‘Cos isn’t tonight just full of the parallels, Eddie thinks. He listens, tries to focus on how sweet Steve’s kiss is than his panicky heart, forcing out a breath between the kisses. His hands along Steve’s sides find a grip, grounding and good, and by the fourth kiss, he begins to feel a bit melty.

It’s good. It’s really good. Kissing Steve is top 5– nay, the top moment of his life so far. Somehow, it’s made all that much better knowing the build-up behind it. Knowing that Steve knows he isn’t just kissing him for a heat of the moment — that Eddie wants kisses here, kisses before bed, in the morning, on dates. Eddie wants Steve.

And with the way he kisses, Eddie’s pretty sure Steve wants him just as bad.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to reach what Eddie decides is an ultra pretty fuckin’ state; lips swollen from kisses, cheeks flushed, hair a little mussed up. He bets he looks no better. The thought makes him grin, enough they have to break the kiss ‘cos Eddie can’t stop his stupid happy grin ‘cos shit— he actually gets to have this Steve.

“What?” Steve asks, somehow half heart-eyed and half suspicious at the mischief in Eddie’s eyes.

“Can I... have a hickie?”

now with a part three !

[oceanwithouthermoon]

kaido and nendo casually watching saiki freak out over his crush and barely reacting or caring about why is so funny to me

[guard-en]

You've Got Mail! @killing-machine

[soup-mother]

we gotta send all sheep and cows extinct in Australia it's the only way we can bring the thylacine back with a clean conciousness and I'm barely even kidding.

sent extinct to protect colonial wool industry profits basically. fucking vile country.

[sollucets]

as a tiny prompt: aye wearing akks clothes (maybe an iconic tank top that's a bit too big on him) and akk feeling a certain way

hi nonny i am at last back at it again. thank you for your patience! ✨i think akk's more iconic of his 2 tank tops is definitely the teal one

we are in the post-os2 long-distance akkaye timeline again; 1.2k, rated t for they're kissing

💜

It’s well into the afternoon when Akk finally hears the telltale sound of movement in his bed. His desk, across his dorm room, faces away, and he doesn’t bother turning from the chair to look. It’s going to take Aye a little while to actually wake up, and the last Akk had seen he’d been sprawled face-down across the pillows, taking up nearly all the room in an already too-small bed. 

So instead, he keeps writing, the little scratching noise of his pen the only sound in the room. Akk usually works with something playing in the background, but he’d forgone music in deference to Aye’s recovery from nineteen hours of air travel. He’s also not really working, not so soon after the end of term; he sets back to writing in his journal, content enough to wait just a little longer. 

Like he’d expected, it’s a while before he hears the telltale groaning of Aye actually getting up. He resists the urge to look for a while, but eventually turns to glance over his shoulder and catches the bathroom door closing, hears the sink turn on. He smiles. 

A few minutes later, he again doesn’t look up when the door opens and Aye’s arms loop around him from behind, a chin digging into his shoulder. 

“Good afternoon,” Akk says mildly, gently leaning the side of his head against his boyfriend’s. 

Aye whines, incoherent, and squeezes around Akk’s shoulders. He smells like toothpaste. 

“That bad, huh?”

“What time is it,” Aye mumbles, almost directly against Akk’s ear. 

“It’s half past two, and I probably should’ve woken you up earlier. The jet lag isn’t going to get any better like this.”

Aye lets out a muffled groan and drops his face into Akk’s shoulder, breath warm against the skin. He has to be leaning over the back of the desk chair, and it can’t be comfortable, but he’s clinging so thoroughly it’d be hard to detach him. He says something, barely audible. 

“What?” 

“What are you doing?” Aye enunciates more clearly, sounding both definitely still sleepy and distinctly pouty. Akk can feel his lips moving. “Pay attention to me.”

“I’m journaling,” Akk answers, laughing a little. Deliberately, he adds another word. 

“What happened to my cute boyfriend from yesterday who missed me so much he cried at the airport?” 

“Your cute boyfriend from yesterday had to carry you inside from the car and as such doesn’t miss you anymore,” Akk answers primly, holding in a laugh. “Also, you cried too.”

“You just called yourself cute,” Aye says, sighing dreamily. “You should write it in your journal. This is a historic moment.”

“Shut up.”

Aye scoffs theatrically. “Listen to you. I’m never so mean.” 

Akk pointedly gets another two words written down and very generously doesn’t refute Aye’s bald-faced lie. “I’m not mean. I let you sleep in, didn’t I? And I made lunch, but it’s in the minifridge now.”

Against his shoulder, Aye’s lips curve first into a smile and then into a kiss. 

Akk melts a little. He hadn’t known, really, how much he missed this. He thought he knew, but he didn’t. 

“You made lunch for me?” Aye asks, sounding delighted despite how he’s pulling his arms away. “I guess I can forgive you then. I am hungry.”

Akk spins in his chair, glancing up. “We can—“ he starts, before the words catch in his throat. 

Aye’s hair is down, soft and in his eyes. That’s the first blow. The second is his bare legs, the edges of boxers just barely visible under the hem of the third shot directly to the heart, one of Akk’s tank tops. 

On Akk, it’s already oversized, and on Aye the effect is worse. He can see the curve of Aye’s waist where the side hangs open, paler than the rest of his skin. It contrasts prettily against the blue-green of Akk’s shirt. His eyes stick there, tracing the shape of it over and over until without his conscious input he reaches out and curls his fingers around that waist, tugging Aye abruptly forward into his lap. 

Aye makes a cut-off little noise of surprise, just barely getting his legs to the side in time. His skin under Akk’s hand is warm and soft and his weight in Akk’s lap is familiar even after all these months away, and his mouth is still in a cute little ‘o’ of surprise. 

He rallies quickly, though, and that ‘o’ morphs into the cat smile Aye wears only at his most self-satisfied. Leaning forward to keep his balance, he sets his hands lightly on Akk’s chest and says, a laugh in his voice, “Does my cute boyfriend still miss me after all?”

Blinking a couple times and valiantly fighting the urge to dig his nails in, Akk says, “You’re wearing my shirt.”

It’s hardly the first time. Aye loves stealing Akk’s clothes, and he’s seen it before — but the combination of all that skin and Aye soft and real and in his room and his shirt and now his lap is doing something to him. Aye’s here to steal his clothes again, here and tangible in his arms. 

“So I am. Most of mine are still in my bags.” Aye’s tone is fond as he stares down at whatever dumbstruck expression Akk is wearing, but it goes darker as he asks, “Do you like that?” 

Akk tries to drag his eyes up through the sea of radio static that his higher thought processes have become, but before his face is another stopping point; his collarbone, visible from the drape of the tank top and sadly unmarked. His left hand comes up until his thumb can run over that exposed skin.

He feels more than hears Aye take a breath in, and lets his fingers follow the motion up the column of his throat. It vibrates as Aye says, a little shakily, “I guess that answers that question.”

Akk, who would usually roll his eyes but is distracted by the way Aye licks his lips after speaking, finishes the journey to curl his hand around the back of Aye’s neck and pull him down. Aye goes easily, melting into the kiss with a sigh that Akk has heard a million times and also not in months. They’d kissed last night, brief and soft and clumsy with sleep once he’d finally gotten Aye into the safety of their dorm, but not like this. 

No, not like this at all; he feels teeth against his upper lip. Aye’s hands leave his chest to wander down to his waist then back up to his shoulders and cling there, squeezing pressure through fabric. It feels a little like Aye might understand it, like he might get the ache in Akk’s hands and heart to hold him as close as possible. Akk makes a soft noise into his mouth, shifting in the chair, and they break apart for a moment, just far enough that their noses still touch. 

“So,” asks Aye, breathy but still somehow infuriatingly smug, “Do you want me to keep it on, or take it off?” 

In retaliation, Akk summons all his willpower and says, “I thought you were hungry.”

Aye leans in again, close enough that their lips brush, and whispers, “Shut up.” 

[altruistic-meme]

nobody actually asked for my thoughts about Jean but i'm sharing them anyway <3

“As angry as he was with Kevin and Neil, he was always willing to die for them”

The fact that Jean won’t play with Kevin but he NEVER stopped caring for him!!!! 

He was willing to die for Kevin, which i'm, you know, normal about

Especially because, not only was he willing to die for Kevin, but for Neil as well!!!!!!!

He hardly even knew Neil!!! I wonder so much what happened during Christmas that made him care for Neil like this???

Was it just Neil’s effect on people??? Was it Neil just being his difficult self that made Jean decide he’d do what it took to save him??

“I said no, you have to live, and I never asked him if he actually wanted to”

Oh. OH, oh…

MA’AM.

The fact that Jean committed suicide in every draft before this. The final one. He didn’t want to live. But he was forced to. 

“You have to live.” you have to survive. you deserve this chance. you can’t give up like this. 

“It’s about a boy who shouldn’t be alive”

HE WAS SUPPOSED TO DIE!!! HE WANTED TO!!!

But finally he lived and that was it!!!

But it WASN’T!!! Because now he has to continue to live!!! And he doesn’t know how!!!!

He shouldn’t be here. He wasn’t supposed to make it. 

And he’s here. 

“And honestly, in this day & age, don’t we all deserve that”

Jean deserves to live. 

He deserves to have his story told. 

He deserves to be the one to tell it. 

[alsojnpie]

since i can't have an autoplay playlist on this site I'll just pin whatever song i wish i could force you to listen to while you look at my page

[byanyan]

byan being a timid kid.

byan being a timid kid because they used to be an outgoing and energetic kid, but they'd get in trouble for being too loud and annoying, too rambunctious and distracting, and struggled to make friends because they were too overwhelming and wanted too much attention. byan being a timid kid because they don't know who to trust because they've been hurt so many times in so many ways by the people who were supposed to protect and look after them. byan being a timid kid because they always manage to disappoint everyone, because they aren't smart enough or talented enough or good enough and they can never seem to do anything right. byan being a timid kid because they're afraid of what they're capable of, because every time their anger has boiled over, they've done serious damage to people, because they've ended up hurting someone far more than that one person ever hurt them.

byan being a timid kid because they don't know what else to do, because every part of them seems wrong, and now being themself just doesn't feel like an option.

[teufelme]

You ever just want to talk about Bertl,

[tinumiel]

Huh...Now I remember why I don't usually get crushes (on people irl) and when I do it makes me so uncomfortable at times. The anxiety, the unrealistic expectations, the sudden dependency on the dopamine rush related to interactions that leaves you drained afterwards, the compulsive need to talk about it making it seem like a bigger deal than it actually is, the self hate for having all these stupid reactions...

[m0e-ru]

she had leftover paint from the last show, one minute, and a dream

[faarkas]

a birthday gift from my very lovely and beloved friend @okayolek 💖

[calumsash]

...But melt your headaches call it home

[mudp4wzz]

New yoke Shadow concept for funsies (click for better quality)

[sygzie]

i can't not bring up the fact that i want rose back i'm sorry! she's right there!! with her own doctor!! who's literally canonically aging with her at the same speed (ish) as the actors!! it's too convenient not use!!!!! and i understand the argument that her ending should be left alone i get that but then we should have just left it at doomsday. we fucked with her storyline once why not do it again yknow

[davy-zeppeli]

I love Micky as Princess Peach and Mike as Princess Daisy, but my brain inherently believes that Micky is Princess Daisy and Mike is Rosalina.