#juuuust the one

[waywardsalt]

thinking abt. damibeck and bellum x linebeck and beldamibeck and uh. damien x bellum fuck its hard to come up with a ship name when that fucking squid is included

[paceprompting]

give me your hands

written for ‘winter sports’ wc: 961 # | steddie | rated: g | cw: no warnings apply | tags: pre-relationship, fluff, teasing, eddie teaching steve to skate, slice of life

@steddieholidaydrabbles

“Jesus, Harrington, you’re a mess.”

Eddie skated to a smooth stop in front of Steve in the most awkwardly contorted position he’d ever seen someone who was a star athlete the rest of year. His knees bowed inward, arms held out straight to his sides as he wobbled on the thin blades of his rented skates.

Steve shot him a blistering look through the hair hanging over his face. “I’m on ice. What do you want from me?”

Eddie waited until Steve had slowly lifted his torso to stand sort of straight, letting out a slow exhale when he didn’t immediately fall right over.

The kids had heard that the lake in the northernmost part of Hawkins had completely frozen over. And with most parents still working during their winter breaks, it was up to Eddie and Steve to taxi the entire group out for a day of skating, snowball fights and hot chocolate.

The Hawkins skate rink had taken the opportunity to pack up their skates and rent them out beside the lake—as well as poor dude in a red puffy jacket serving as the medical booth.

“Well, you were captain of the melted version of the stuff. I thought you might be better at this,” Eddie answered, skating a slow circle around Steve and returning in front with a backward skate.

Steve tried a step forward.

His foot slid out sharply, and he shot his arms out to steady himself.

“Fuck. This is so embarrassing.” He let out a slow breath and went back to taking awkward steps on his skates.

The rest of the kids had seemed to make a game out of falling over, racing each along up and down the other side of the lake until one or both at a time toppled over. Until there was any blood, Eddie didn’t think he didn’t need to get involved.

Eddie had his hands in his pockets to avoid the cold—which would actually suck if he ended up falling—and he watched the awakward, baby deer-like way Steve attempted ice skating.

He stayed up for at least ten seconds before his skate betrayed him again.

Eddie tried for reassuring.

“You’re doing fine.”

“My butt’s cold,” Steve mumbled.

That did tend to happen when you toppled over about six times in the middle of a frozen lake. Steve wasn’t decked out in snow pants like Max, and the loose snow and ice had stuck to his jeans.

Eddie had kept pace with Steve while he waddled along, sometimes going backwards and other times having to do a figure-eight to backtrack when Steve near-stumbled and Eddie went past him.

Steve glared at Eddie’s feet. “How are you so damn good at this?”

“Free to skate if you have your own. Over the years, Wayne brought me here to try and warm up. Or tire me out so I wouldn’t knock over the Christmas tree in the trailer.”

Steve let out a laugh through his nose, but it distracted him and he did fall over for the first time since Eddie had joined him. It was onto his knees this time, the sharp pain traveling through to a wince on Steve’s face.

Eddie ducked his head as Steve slowly got back onto his feet. It was disheartening to Eddie to see Steve look down at himself and look so nearly disgusted when Steve had usually managed to find a spot for himself in everything he did.

“Give me your hands.”

Steve had his hands ready when he whipped his head to Eddie. “What?”

“You’re so worried about falling back, that’s all you’re going to do.” Eddie held out his hands, shivering as the slight wind forced cold into them. He forced his fingers to bend and urge Steve to him. “Come on.”

Steve eyed the offer.

Whether it was Eddie standing straight up with no wavering, or a last-ditch effort to try before he could officially give up—Steve slowly slid his freezing hands into Eddie’s.

Eddie squeezed Steve’s fingers, raising his brows in a question.

Steve licked his chapped lips and nodded.

With a gentle pull, Eddie started a slow path backwards. Steve glided without moving his feet, letting Eddie guide him across the ice. Eddie let him for a minute or so, letting Steve feel the balance without worry about hitting the ice.

“Try using your feet now,” he urged softly.

Steve blew out a sharp breath, shaking his head. But he followed direction, and began walking forward, barely lifting his skates from the ice.

Again, Eddie waited until Steve’s shoulders relaxed before giving another instruction.

“Don’t shuffle the blades. Lean a bit forward and push off of your feet when you step.”

Steve furrowed his brow, and if Eddie smiled at the cute wrinkle that form in that space between them that was Eddie’s business because Steve couldn’t see him anyway. He slowly repeated Eddie’s words to himself and tried to compel his feet to do as he said.

“If it pushes to the side a little bit, that’s okay. It’ll propel you forward.”

Eddie squeezed Steve’s fingers again for encouragement as he propelled them forward with decently-done steps, rather than Eddie pulling him along. He thought out pulling a move from his uncle, letting go of Steve’s hands without warning to see how he did on his own.

But the second he shifted his hands even a bit, Steve clutched onto him.

“Can’t hold onto me forever,” he teased.

In a surprisingly bold move for someone who had spent half the day flat on the ice, Steve lifted his head and met Eddie’s gaze, sharp and daunting. There was a quirk to the corner of his mouth, the cocky Harrington charm slipping through his nerves.

“You sure about that?”

[moldwood]

5 minute drawings before bed

[glorious-spoon]

to loosen his grip [9-1-1 | Buck/Eddie]

~1k words | eddie & tommy; pre-relationship eddie/buck

spec fic for 7x04

-

The thing is, Eddie's not stupid.

Eddie's not stupid, and Buck's about as subtle as a brick to the face on a good day. He can't help it. Everything he's feeling comes spilling out of him; keeping it inside seems as impossible for him as holding the tide back with a leaky sieve. It's not something Eddie relates to that much, honestly. If anything, he's got the opposite problem. He crushes everything he's feeling into a tight little knot and holds onto it with white knuckles until he can't hold on anymore. It lost him Shannon—would have lost him Shannon even if she'd lived—and it nearly lost him both his job and his sanity in the end. He's still learning how to loosen his grip.

Buck still needs to learn how to get a grip, like, at all.

So yeah, Eddie knows. Not right away; he doesn't really think anything of it when he picks Tommy up from the hanger and Buck is there. In the truck, he watches Buck's receding figure in the rearview mirror for a moment before Tommy says, "Not trying to poach Evan from the 118, I promise."

He's laughing about it a little bit. Eddie scoffs and says, "Buck? You'd have to pry him out of that house before he'd go anywhere else."

He doesn't mention the lawsuit. That's water long under the bridge now, and it's not a time in his life he likes to think back on that much. But he knows it's true; Buck can say whatever he wants about keeping his options fluid, but when he finds people and a place he wants to keep, he hangs onto them.

Tommy is good company, anyway. It's something he's missed, since the Army: the easy camaraderie over beers, sitting in a shouting crowd in Vegas, shooting the shit in a bar afterward. Tommy's got a lift, and he brings his abuelo's Chevelle over, and it's an easy slide from that into a half-casual bout of muay thai, and Eddie has missed that, too: sparring just for fun, just for the hell of it, not for the money or because his demons were going to claw themselves out of his chest with bloody nails otherwise.

"See you've caught some lead," Tommy observes once they're done, bruised and a little breathless, shirtless on the bench in his garage. Eddie caps his Gatorade and glances up, and for a second he doesn't even know what Tommy is talking about until he nods at Eddie's right shoulder and asks, "That from overseas?"

Eddie touches the bullet scar, a long-healed dimple by now. It's not that noticeable anymore, at least from the front. The surgical scars from his thoracotomy are still more obvious, but even they've faded.

"Oh, no," he says. "I mean, yeah, I did, but this one was right here in L.A."

"Right, the sniper," Tommy agrees. "Shit. I remember seeing that Captain Nash caught a bullet. Didn't realize you were the other one from his house that got shot."

"Yeah, well." Eddie shrugs, uncapping his Gatorade again. "It was a long time ago."

He likes that, too. Talking about it with someone who never saw the bullet hole, only the scar. Talking about it with someone who's never had his blood in his mouth, who never knelt above him in a speeding truck and begged him to hang on.

He lied to Buck about it, because Buck's so close to it that he might as well have been shot too. It's easier like this, because Tommy isn't wounded by the memory; Tommy shrugs and asks if he wants to grab a pizza after this, and Eddie slings a towel over his shoulder and lets Tommy pull him to his feet, and they have pizza and a couple more beers, and it's easy. He's missed easy. He thinks he deserves to have something easy, for a change.

-

"I mean, I think it's great," Buck says, apropos of pretty much exactly nothing a couple of days later. "You can never have too many friends, you know?"

He's vibrating with that exact same anxious energy that Eddie remembers from his first day at the 118, when Buck seemed one wrong move away from pissing on the exercise equipment or maybe shoving him down the stairs. It awakens some puckish little part of Eddie that can't help but needle him. You're standing in the wrong light, man, as if he's ever in his life had an opinion about photography lighting, but it got Buck to bristle and snap like a wounded dog, all electric fury, and Eddie liked that, too, for reasons that he understands better now than he did back then.

So he shrugs, and he says lightly, "You know, it's like that thing when you meet somebody and you just click. You know what I mean?"

It's a jab, and not a very subtle one. He still remembers standing in the sunlight and listening to Buck tell him that Natalia saw him, after Eddie watched him hang there in the rain and felt his chest unmoving beneath his palms and sat through those endless hours in the fucking hospital waiting for him to wake up. After Eddie brought him home, and listened to his quiet confession in his kitchen, and tried as well as he knew how to hold Buck's still-beating heart gently.

But sure. Natalia saw him. For all of four months, apparently.

He thinks he wants Buck to flinch and snap back, just a little. It's not the place for it—they're in the middle of a goddamn call—but he's stupid about Buck. Always has been.

Buck doesn't flinch. He sags instead, his mouth downturned, and he mutters, "Yeah. Yeah, I really do."

And it's something they should talk about, maybe, but then Ravi calls up for more slack, and there are other things to focus on for the time being.

[sillywoyscreenshots]

.

[crustaceousfaggot]

Tommy Armitage might only have one singular personality trait, but oh boy is it a trait that makes me want to chew through drywall

[tisajest]

do you think bruce collected dick's baby teeth? 😭🥹

[annabelle--cane]

hey @ my subconscious. if I could stop having nightly dreams about using. that would be great.

[imogenkol]

Really couldn’t pass up this template for them 🤡

tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @adelaidedrubman @florbelles @tommyarashikage @simonxriley @voidika @neonshrike @voidbuggg @inafieldofdaisies @statichvm @socially-awkward-skeleton @aceghosts @carlosoliveiraa @risingsh0t @unholymilf @thedeadthree @cassietrn @jackiesarch @a-treides @shellibisshe @loriane-elmuerto @katsigian @captastra @simplegenius042 @theelderhazelnut @g0dspeeed @strangefable @kanos @cptcassian @e-the-village-cryptid @greenecreek @euryalex @auricfog

[stardial]

IM SO FULL OF FEELINGS AND I WANT TO EXPLODE

[phantomtrax]

Listen i'm not gonna name any names i'm not gonna point any fingers but im just SAYING that concrete was a preeeetty common motif related to the Extinction im just saying i dont wanna sound crazy but im just saying maaaaybeeee the fact that guy got concreted means possibly maybe sort of the extinction can STILL WIN BABY!!!!! WOOOO

[sugarlywhispers]

oooooon another note...

Midoriya Izuku Sensei is my brainrot of the day.

😍

[islenskihesturinn]

Had a little rage moment (privately in my car) after my second day of saddle fitting.

On the second day someone brought in a Tennessee Walking Horse. Me and my team were working on another horse so didn't get much from how that consult went.

Later I heard that the horse was lame as all hell, but that the owner claims that that's "just his gaitedness".

I didn't explode with everyone around me. I just calmly said that that's a severe lack of knowledge of gaitedness, never mind horses in general.

But once I was on the main road where I could step on the gas I screamed out loud, in my car, and hated the world just a little bit, and reminded myself that this is also part of trying to make the world a little better.

Maybe I'm lucky to have ridden quite a few Icelandic horses in my life that I can hear and feel the difference in the varying degrees of tölt a horse can show, and that I definitely know when a horse is lame or even just a little 'off'.

I'm just baffled that people can look at their horse, can have professionals look at their horse, can have a class of people with a collective shit-ton of experience look at your horse and then still, still claim that lameness is simply the gaitedness of the horse.

[fox-guardian]

I have stayed up far too late and am being punished for my hubris. found a bug on my pillow

[showakyonen]

HANSEL & GRETEL

[enwie]

"If they just kill this one person who's really evil they'll fix the cycle of violence forever" <- people who somehow fail to grasp the message of a children's show which is not being subtle about it