#what are the methodists fucking up now

[aaaaatillathenun]

Ok in the tags I think i mixed up a couple different incidents bc this is the church getting poisoned: https://abcnews.go.com/US/story?id=96750&page=1

and I think the people killing each other over being bishop was actually in Africa (Angola maybe?) and for a different denomination (thank u family member who worked for the international church)

None of them are gonna be physically violent

The Reddit users are going to judge you if you express any religious or “unscientific” sentiment

The Catholics run the gamut from “hardcore pro-lifer” to “Nun who invented communism”

The Protestants have brought lots of food but are going to proselytize the entire time you eat

The crystalists are split 60/40 on whether or not vaccines cause autism, and you don’t know who has the majority until you’ve been there an hour

The Anglophiles have good pastries, but 1/3 of them are in Sherlock cosplay

The girlbosses are all within 10° to the left of the center of the political spectrum and will try very hard to get you to invest in their MLM

The vegans brought food but will turn hostile if you let slip that you’ve used animal products in the last year

The reenactors have booze, but your phone is dead and they’re giving a very pro-America history lecture

The influencers have a pool, a jacuzzi, and lots of drugs, but they have a combined net worth that teaches seven digits and won’t let you forget it

The retirees have great weed but they’re gonna ask you a lot of invasive questions and give you a lot of unsolicited advice.

[molluskzone]

eve and her family were initially written to be catholic (because that is the ONLY religion i have any personal experience with) but im kind of enraptured (LOL) by the very concept of rapturing. so i think i might make them evangelicals instead? that will be such a pain though i have 0 experience with evangelicals. or really protestants of any flavor.

[morganbritton132]

Omg ok so my sisters used to play soccer and one of the moms had a cowbell. This woman would ring the bell every time the team got a goal. And now like 20 years later our mother was talking to someone about how my sisters used to do the local soccer thing and the other person was like “omg do you remember the cowbell lady? That team was so good but dear lord that cowbell was annoying!”……..I can picture Eddie getting a cowbell

Absolutely yes. No notes. Eddie definitely does this.

Steve kinda dooms himself to it because they played a scrimmage against a team that brought their own cheerleaders. Eddie prides himself on a level of dramatism that is not going to let that slide so he asks.

He did ask if he could be Steve’s cheerleader.

Steve, who melts every time Eddie takes an interest in one of his hobbies, does not think of the consequences when he says, “You’re already my cheerleader, but sure.”

If Steve thought about it for a little bit than he would probably think that Eddie was going to show up at the game in an actual cheerleading uniform, but he didn’t think about it. He actually forgot about the entire conversation until the next weekend when Eddie tries to get into the car with an electric guitar.

Steve stops him, “What are you doing?”

“Uh, cheerleading?”

“Where would you even plug that in at?”

“Oh, you’re right,” Eddie considers and then darts back into the house. He returns a few minutes later with an acoustic guitar, but Steve gives him a look that says very clearly ‘absolutely not.’ Eddie strums the guitar anyways and says, “I love you, bitch. I ain’t never gonna stop-“

“Eddie, we’re going to be late!”

So, he didn’t do anything that weekend other than come up with some on-the-fly cheers with another player’s girlfriend and agree to design them shirts. Nancy did say that if he tried to start a wave in the crowd that she would divorce him. From the land of the living.

He thinks she means it too.

Eddie’s already picked out the cowbell by the time next weekend rolls around. They’re playing against a group from the nearby methodist church and the only thing that Steve requests is that Eddie stays off his soapbox about organized religion. He says nothing about cowbells.

Nancy isn’t even aware that he has it until he whips it out after the first goal and starts ringing it. The whole field stops moving and just stares at him for a second, which is great. Eddie loves an audience.

Steve looks fucking delighted, too.

It is rather unfortunate that the team they’re playing against sucks major ass and they score more goals than they have in any other game because that cowbell rings with enthusiasm every single time. Except for the last goal because when Eddie went to reach for the bell, Ozzy put his paw over his hand to tell him to stop.

It doesn’t matter though because Steve runs over to him as soon as the game ends, all smiles and kisses. It’s painfully and sickeningly sweet when he tells him, “Best cheerleader I’ve ever had.”

Steve kisses him again and tells him, “Never do it again though.”

[this-is-my-main-i-follow-from]

You were born beautiful & okay & yes flawed,

& instead of sacrificing things every day of your life you just need one single sacrifice (& the thing sacrificed is still eternal & didn't die & fall off the face of existence)

& you should live by love & live your life in active thanks, not verbal thanks, active thanks meaning going out & living with love & not doing evil to others

& the word is relevant to the context it was written in so you need to learn how to apply it in this world which essentially boils down to "conduct yourself with love"

because you will be completely & fully united with the purest most infinite love in the end, & the "unimaginable torture" is lack of love & very few people ever get there & even upon passing you still are able to unite with Love after some time spent undoing the hatred you spread in life. According to some traditions, even if you spend one eternity in suffering, you will have another chance to unite with love.

Posts like this are why I hate the church. It presents itself in such an awful way that people get an understanding of it like this, & then they abandon it because it honestly sucks & they can find love in other places. At the same time though, this post is... well... it is exaggerated & sad. The churches need to stop acting the way they do because they make people think like this. Life is beautiful, why do the churches need to make it come off like this?

Look, we joke a lot, but really, "you were born evil, wretched, worse than the scum of the earth, and it took killing a god to make you salvageable, so now you'd better be grateful to that god and thank him 10,000 times a day for it and fill your thoughts with him 24/7 and abide by the letter of his every word, lest you suffer unimaginable torture for all of eternity" is a truly horrendous thing to believe about yourself and other people

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

I think people believe that those who likely won't vote for Biden despite opposing Trump in November are just doing so out of political purity demands are failing to internalize something really important.

People only have so many resources to spare beyond survival. And they will make reasonable assessments based on what an action demands of them versus what it will do to benefit them/improve overall quality of life whether or not to do a thing. Anything.

I've noticed this thing where people are like "voting is the LEAST you can do, it's just one thing, and it barely takes up any valued resources (e.g. time, money, energy, skill, learning/adjustment periods, etc), how can you NOT do it?"

And. Well. Maybe because that equation isn't the same for everyone?

Let me go ahead and lay out for you the process that would all have to take place BEFORE I was able to "just go vote" if that was an action I felt would be valuable.

1) identify/confirm my state's voter identification policies for the coming election to confirm that I fully understand them and that they haven't been altered since my last complete understanding of it

2) save the money (in cash) for the fees involved in attending an id appt at a state office to get the necessary documents which I may or may not have (I have moved about every other year for a long time now, and have not been able to consistently maintain useable paperwork across my residential transitions because many were across state lines)

3) schedule the state office appt for id paperwork. Keep cash fees and necessary evidentiary paperwork on hand (or add an additional set of steps to obtain/reobtain them such as when the move damaged my court paperwork for my name change). Then wait for the appt to arrive, and hope I have enough time in my day and gas in my car to keep it.

4) once I have my appropriate id, register as a regional voter and identify my nearest polling station (by the way, the ONLY available polling stations in my literal entire county are Baptist or Methodist churches. If those spaces are - for some reason, maybe I don't know being actively mid-medical transition of gender, visibly queer, and fucking Jewish - are not accessible to me well then I guess I'm shit out of luck)

5) obtain time off on election day to go vote. You might think this is easy. And maybe for you it is. But the vast majority of election voting lines I have waited in since going with my mom as a kid to waiting to place my own vote as an adult, have been at minimum of 4 hours waiting in line outside the building let alone getting thru identity confirmation with the polling station volunteers once inside. I work on Tuesdays. So taking unpaid time off for a 4+ hour errand is a big deal. And yeah, my supervisor does actively encourage us to and support us in doing it, but given how we are paid (by the completed appt hour) there is a huge financial barrier to taking a day off to vote. The owner of my practice does her best to help, including offering us our paid documentation hours if it helps, but like. That's not going to be enough for a lot of people's checkbooks, and there are not outside resources she can call on to support her in supporting us. We may make the choice to do it when we feel financially able to, but we may not always be in that position.

6) actually vote. Hey remember those 4hr lines? I'm physically disabled and mobility limited. So if I need to anticipate more than a maximum of 15min of standing or walking, I may need to consider going in my wheelchair. How many of those churches serving as polling stations in my poor, 60% black county are able to be wheelchair accessible? My state voter polling station map supposedly offers a listing of accessible polling stations! But when I click it, it actually just takes me to a webpage describing my legal right to accommodation. Did you know that the only caregiver I could have help accommodate me is my wife or a professional one? I can't (for example) have a friend take me while my wife is working or otherwise unavailable. Or, you know, if a polling station volunteer decides to get up in arms about my marriage for being queer/interracial (this has happened, yes I know it's illegal what the actual fuck do you think that means for the reality of enforcing that though???? Something being a crime doesn't stop it from happening, and being able to "hold someone accountable" won't necessarily mean getting my fucking vote back.)

7) monitor my vote for rejection and supply any necessary corrective measures to confirm my vote (I realize this may be something lots of people go a lifetime never running into, but it has and does and will happen)

8) monitor my voter registration to ensure I stay on the roles up through the next merry go round through these steps (i once had to re-register 3 times in one year without having changed addresses or documentation in any way. Just getting flat out bumped from the roles. When I did voter canvassing in 2020 I took a peek at my own name in the registry and I had a HALF DOZEN different registrations that had been done in the 4 years I'd been living in my house at the time.)

It is REALLY highly likely that none of these things, or AT MOST 1-2 of them are also your (general) concerns/priorities/needs around voting. Mine are like this through a combination of circumstances, location, chaotic lifestyle, and a general inability to stay organized. But that is nonetheless the reality of my effort ro vote every election.

Increasingly, this has simply not been worth my time and money. My vote's presence or absence simply is not impactful enough in the systems and levers of power to justify putting myself through that process and it's impact on my quality of life. My energy is more effectively used in ways that can A) not cost me financial resources I simply do not have, B) do not require me to prove who I am in order to interact with it, thus removing the burden and expense of maintaining paperwork for that purpose beyond what I already posess (passport card without any documentation of residence but with documentation of citizenship), and C) can be performed using only or mostly physical actions that are not inherently medically dangerous for me.

So that's what I've started redirecting my energy towards. There are truly so many options, and I keep myself busy with many different little pieces of that puzzle.

I could not do those things if I also tried to maintain consistent access to voting. I simply couldn't. But those things are so much more immediately impactful, not just on my quality of life, but on the QoL of the rest of my community. I value the ability to spend my resources there more than I value my ability to brute force my way through in interaction with a system that throws up increasingly harmful barriers at every step.

If that math ever changes for me, I probably will try to vote more. It's not like I think voting is bad. But I simply do not see it as more valuable for me and my community given my combination of needs, resources, and capacities.

I really need people to understand that yelling at someone and trivializing their reasons for making the choice that they are making will not increase your voter turnout. Because it means you are inherently rejecting their valid concerns as worth addressing. And yeah! A lot of people are right now specifically talking about this as if their decision is at least in part because of the concern that the Trump years and Biden years have not been different enough or have been different in ways that are harmful to them, because a lot of us made a point of saying in 2020 "damn the consequences, we'll just do it"

But then there wasn't enough change to justify how much we harmed ourselves or invited harm into our lives by doing so. Or at least there is little enough that we are asking ourselves the question of its worth. So now we must also ask "can we make that sacrific again, knowing what we know now?"

For some of us, unless interventions to lower the barrier to entry of voting or to raise the motivation to trust Biden will improve our qualities of life are employed, it is very likely that the answer may be (or may be becoming) no. We can't make the sacrifice again. It took too much and returned too little and we may LITERALLY not have enough to give this time around.

We'll see I guess.

It doesn't escape me that I'm not hearing anything about voter accessability this year. It can sometimes start to feel a little like hedging yalls bets to me, as someone on whom those barriers are deeply impactful and restrictive.

Because if you (general) can point to how we (the vote-alienated) were blocked from the polls after, you can combine that with complaints of "leftists" abstaining for "political purity/perfectionism" to justify to yourselves (general) why Biden lost without reconciling just how much of a void his campaign has in terms of what it's offering people. If they were at least returning to their roots and using the Democratic party base to establish voter support resources and access alternatives, that would probably increase turnout by an order of 10 or so entirely on its own.

But that's being left to communities themselves, despite the gamechanger that would be facilitating such programs with the resources of a multi-billion dollar national political party. Overnight, millions might suddenly see voting as a real possibility, and it's not like the party is spending that money elsewhere in the campaign either. I'm not seeing his ads very often on tv/radio, i haven't seen hardly any online, no one is calling or canvassing, and only Bernie Sanders' team still texts or emails me anything other than requests for money even tho I've been signed up to party and candidate mailing list sets for decades at this point.

I don't know how to help you understand that I was actively EMPLOYED as campaign staff for a democratic presidential primary candidate in 2020 running volunteer events, canvassing shifts, GOTV events, etc. I personally canvassed half of the district I lived in and spoke to so many voters.

Do you want to take a wild guess how many candidates reached out to my community (besides the one I was on staff with) during primary season? One. Out of that entire stage of candidates, only 2 even had campaign staff on the ground in my district. And we were a battleground district in our state. We had the power to swing the entire state. But only like 15% of the candidates gave a fuck.

That hasn't gotten better, it's gotten worse, because now the only one of those two left with any access to an on-site campaign crew is Bernie Sanders, and while he is valiently trying to wrangle it into a GOTV program, he simply cannot do that by himself, especially as alienated as he is from the rest of the dominant wing of the party.

I need people to understand that the work on the ground looks so much different than online political ontological discussion and debate. It MATTERS how you interact with these systems and community needs. We're all doing what we can. What makes sense for us to do. It is REALLY easy to sink into the feeling of "everyone is just too stupid/uninformed to see things my way, or they're voting against they're best interests for some malicious reason" but I promise you that is simply not the reality of how politics happens in communities. Yes, even when someone is 100% objectively being a bigot. People have reasons for what they do, and those reasons mattered to act on to them, even if you don't understand why. If you want to get someone's buy in to change their behavior/beliefs on something, you need to first treat their reasons as a consistent internal logic, even if that means looking past what specific words someone is using towards the underlying values or needs they reflect.

[charmingsoa]

✶ Where the Wild Things Are: Prequel ✶ ■ 1960s Sons of Anarchy story ■

⌃ Jax Teller/ OC x Thomas Teller/OC ⌃

Warning: Please read with caution. This story will include: drug use, physical, verbal, and sexual abuse. miscarriages, sexual content, alcohol use, homicide, cursing, etc. ★ If You would like to be tagged in future updates, simply leave your username in the comments.

When I look back on my life – I often wonder if I made the right choices when I was younger. I obviously got to my place in life because of what happened all those years ago in California. Hell, there were times when I didn’t even think I would make it out alive. Growing up, my parents were very strict – almost authoritarian. My father had fought for his country in WWII and my mother was your typical housewife. The picture-perfect look was what they strived for – putting my brothers and I in whatever activities they could. There were structured rules that were drilled into our heads from day one.

No elbows on the table Respect your parents and your elders Girls and woman are to bow down to menfolk and do what they’re told. Women are forbidden to wear pants or short skirts. Girls can attend secondary school but will not be allowed to attend college. Marriage, motherhood, and the act of obeying your husband is the most important role in a woman’s life.

I distinctly remember my father telling me that if I wanted to dress like a whore, I can plant myself on the side of the highway and start making a living for myself. I spent most of my childhood bowing down to everything my father said. He instilled that fear in me as a young girl – always being on the back end of his belt or switch if I was “bad” enough. I was the only daughter – I needed to be picture perfect and like a doll. My mother would stand idly by as he inflicted his abuse on me – only doing so because he loved and cared about me.

Total bullshit if you ask me.

I guess you can say with all the structure and ruling that fell at the hand of my father – you wouldn’t be surprised to hear that I rebelled. Starting at the early age of 13, I snuck out of the house to meet the boys from the wrong sides of the tracks. We would listen to the devil’s music as my father called it – getting high as kites.  My flower-patterned dress would be hiked up above my waist – my legs wrapped tightly around the guy’s hips – as they pounded into me. My mother always preached that a girl should stay pure until the night of their wedding -giving the gift of virginity to their awaiting husband.

 I lost that gift behind the First Methodist Church to a kid three grades ahead of me. It was meaningless and hurt like hell, but after that I couldn’t get enough.

By the time I hit 16, I had fucked half the senior class. I gained a reputation as the 10th grade slut – willing to do anything and anyone. Now, was this true – partially. I didn’t care if you were the ugliest guy in class – if you had a dick then I was ready and willing. I was never one to seek the guys out first. They would come to me and a couple minutes later they would be making me cum. There were rumors that I was a child prostitute – my parents were less than thrilled to hear that be brought up during a meeting with the principal.

At that point, I was pulled out of the school and sent to an all-girls catholic school about 45 minutes from home. My father made sure to drive me every day and would stay on the premises until school was over. Even if I wanted to ditch class and run away, Roy Landry was watching like a fucking hawk. I managed to mellow out a little once I graduated high school – I guess being locked up like Rapunzel will do that to people. I wasn’t allowed to go to prom – parties thrown by the other girls - I was isolated in my room. While my brothers were living their lives, I was stuck watching Walter Cronkite on the CBS Evening News with Brenda and Roy ever night.

I’m sure you’re trying to figure out where I’m going with all this information – I swear it’s important given the truth you’re about to hear.

A girl who hitchhiked all the way to California- fell in love with two brothers who despised each other – watching as they both fell into the pits of hell by creating the most dangerous motorcycle gang in Northern Cali – my story has to start somewhere, right?

[themainspoon]

If you are a WoD fan and you aren’t aware of how fucking wild White Wolf’s strategy for marketing Demon: the Fallen was, that changes right fucking now, get ready.

So, the year is 2002, American Culture is still moving past the Satanic Panic, and your job is to market a Table Top Role Playing Game where you play as literal demons who were aligned with the Biblical figure of Lucifer. The book has a big ass pentagram on its cover, and is filled with information on fictional demons and their demonic powers.

How do you market this?

Well, isn’t it obvious?

You satirise Chick Tracks by making a fake one about how the game you’re supposed to be promoting is satanic. I’ve linked it below, it’s only 23 pages long;

But you may be thinking: “Ok, that’s a funny concept, but why is this such a big deal to you?” Well, buckle the fuck up kiddo’s, because I want you to look at that last panel again:

Do you notice anything about it that could prompt further inquiry? What about that URL?

You see, the chick track was only one part of this little marketing stunt.

And so, I ask again, how do you market Demon: the Fallen?

You create an entire fake Evangelical church website called the Eternal Grace Evangelical Church, and write a fake sermon in which you claim that the brand that hired you is producing games that turn children into drug addicts and sexual predators, also claiming that Vampire: the Masquerade was involved in real world murders including the fucking Columbine School Shooting.

Below is a link to the site from the Internet Archives Wayback machine, the main bulk of the interesting stuff is in the sermons section.

Quick note, they used EVERY part of the evangelical bullshit playbook to make this site look legit, they went hard on this. So, the site is satire, but it still feels like it would be a good idea to mention that they satirise everything about Evangelicals, including their homophobic, transphobic, anti-catholic, and anti-pagan beliefs.

https://web.archive.org/web/20031205191032/http://www.father-ramos.com:80/

If you don’t want to read it yourself, here are some actual quotes from this fake Evangelical site that was, and I can’t stress this enough, MADE BY WHITE WOLF TO PROMOTE DEMON: THE FALLEN: (above disclaimer applies here too)

“Eternal Grace Congregation Church is a community of Christians who seek to love, worship and praise Him and to communicate the Word of the Gospel to the world around us while exposing the lifestyles and and recruiting prctices of those deviants who would make this world a place of horrors. Among these are homosexuals, gamblers, drug addicts and role-players.”

“You may find it useful to tell role-players about the Dallas youths who were burned to death in the steam tunnels of Southern Methodist University (of course it was the Methodists) while exploring them for treasure. Tell them about the syphilis-related insanity of Jimmy Cox, a Tennessee teenager who used role-playing games to build around him a coven of homosexuals. Tell them about Michelle Sikes, the Montana role-player who had a sex-change operation. The more perversion you can ascribe to involvement with role-playing the better. You may even wish to fabricate some of your own, to better illustrate the point to your specific at-risk individual.”

“Listening to accounts of the role-players’ games is either the height of tedium (it must be said, pardon my air of judgment) or evinces strong feelings of pity, […] Invitations to participate, if accepted, place the individual in a precarious position himself, and will probably expose him to the scourges of drugs, fornication, homosexuality and Catholicism/paganism in many cases.”

“point out to them that the activity borders on delusion (“You are not an elf, Tommy!”) and heresy (“If God intended for you to act like a demon, he would have made you a demon, Jenny”).”

“In addition, rumors (which is why I relegate this to a side note instead of including it in the main body of my discourse) link the activities of the Columbine high-school “trenchcoat mafia” with Vampires Masquerade.”

“As good Christians, it is obviously our duty to prevent our youth from learning the corrupt ways these books and games teach. Sex, suicide, drug abuse, homosexuality, “golden showers” and many other behaviors proscribed by the Lord and the Good Book come as a result of players taking their games too far. In particular, the moral execration contained with the Demon book takes these aberrations to new levels by openly encouraging players to act in the interests of Satan (or Lucifer, as he is depicted herein).”

“Additionally, role-playing games teach that violence is an acceptable and even admirable way of solving problems. Significant portions of their rules are devoted to combat and weaponry. Demon, for example, also contains systems by which the satanic characters can attack or use magic upon their enemies, with dark arts spawned from Hell itself. These are not unlike the gay community’s reactionary “straight bashing” in response to the more physical efforts of their loving fellows (but loving in the Lord’s intended way) to bring them back into the fold.”

“This Week: Pastor "Father" Ramos discusses the Catholic Church and the 68 Million deaths its evil has caused throughout the world! You won't read this in the history books! Father Ramos also discusses why he has chosen to reclaim the Holy tile"Father" from Catholocism.”

White Wolf was frequently quite edgy, and often wasn’t great at dealing with social issues (you could argue this is still true of the modern World of Darkness in some cases). But honestly I think this is a fun stunt. It mocks evangelicals for all their insane bigoted beliefs, and for basically giving all the stuff they call satanic free advertising. No matter what though this is an unhinged marketing stunt, and it is so wild that they actually did this.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddiemas challenge.

Yours for the Weekend

Prompt Day 4: Winter-Themed Songs | Word Count: 8340 | Rating: M | CW: Mild Sexual Content | Tags: AU, No Upside Down, Future Fic, Going Home, Getting Back Together, Happy Ending, Eddie POV

Also available right here on A03.

Eddie steps out of the car, right between the Methodist church and the Hawkins High School building. It's changed. A new building, new paint scheme, a freshly paved parking lot. They've remodeled, and dozed down the memories, good and bad, that clung to this place. 

The cafeteria is gone, moved somewhere new, he supposes. 

Eddie isn't sentimental for school. He hated school, the three tries he had at his senior year are enough to prove that. But he misses that time, all the same. He misses Hellfire Club. He misses playing music in Gareth's garage. He misses their weekly Tuesday gig at The Hideout.

He misses his unlikely, and tentative friendship with Steve Harrington, that grew into their love that followed. 

He doesn't miss his hometown, except for when he does.

"Since when do you miss this goddamn place?" Gareth asks, leaning over towards the driver's side from the passenger seat of the rental car. Stretching, trying to see Eddie's face as he stands outside the car. 

He doesn't miss it. Not really. 

"It's just changed. That's all," Eddie says, ducking down to look at Gareth. They've all changed. 

"Come on, Eddie, it's fucking cold!" Goodie yells from the backseat, and Eddie hears Jeff shushing him. 

Jeff's trying to give him a minute, even if the other two don't understand it. Eddie appreciates it. He doesn't really understand it himself. But driving by this place, and seeing it looking so different, did something to him he hadn't expected.

He escaped this place, and everything, everyone, in it. 

That's all he ever wanted, and now…

Now, there's a lump in his throat that's hard to swallow around. He doesn't understand.

They're working in L.A., playing music every night. They aren't big, not really. Eddie sincerely doubts they'll ever be big. But they can afford to make music for a living, and that's not nothing. Not everyone can do that, but they've made it happen.

From living in a one bedroom apartment together, taking turns with who got the bedroom, while the rest of them crashed all over the living room until it was their turn again.

Then being able to afford two apartments. Right across the hall from each other. Jeff and Goodie in one, him and Gareth in the other. Their own separate bedrooms and everything.

To shopping around for single studios in nicer buildings, and just realizing that even though they can afford it, and somehow, they can, that they'd rather just stick together. 

"Eddie!" Goodie yells again, and Eddie turns and puts his hands up in surrender, climbing back into the car.

Eddie drops Jeff off at home, then Goodie, and then it's just him and Gareth left in the car. Driving through the snow-packed streets of Hawkins. 

"You could just talk to him, you know?" Gareth says, looking at Eddie, knowingly.

Eddie could try to deny it, but yeah, that's where his head has been since their plane touched down in Indiana. Where his head often is, always. But it's easier to push it to the back of his mind when there's some distance between him and his hometown. Between him and Steve.

"Yeah, well, last I heard he was getting married," Eddie says.

"That fell apart," Gareth says, "a long time ago. And you already know that."

Yeah, Eddie knows that. He just doesn't want to talk about it. He never wants to talk about, or hear about, what Steve's been up to since he's been gone. If he did, he'd ask. But it's none of his business, and it's not like Steve has been checking up on him, either. He's never flown out to L.A. and he definitely never asked Eddie to stay.

He let Eddie go, let him escape this place, and that was that. 

"It's just easier not to," Eddie finally says.

"Sure it is," Gareth says, and Eddie cuts him a look.

"Since when are you on Team Steve?" Eddie asks. Gareth liked Steve just fine, but he was also the first in line to get out of this town, the minute he graduated high school and turned eighteen. He was definitely not at all concerned at the time that their skipping town meant Eddie's relationship with Steve would come to an end.

Gareth looks over at him, "What? I'm not. I'm Team Eddie. Always. But Team Eddie is kind of a sad sack team these days. We've got a losing record going, big time."

Eddie laughs, "Fair enough. But what do you know about sports? Nothing, last I checked." 

"I played as a kid. Baseball. Soccer. You know, the usual suspects. Before I found the drums." 

Eddie isn't sure he knew that. This is his best friend, and he's still learning things about him, all these years later. 

"Just. Talk to him. Either finish it for good, or…"

"Just pick open some old scabs?" Eddie says, sarcastically.

"Sure, do that. We've got a first aid kit. We can bandage you up again. We did it the last time," Gareth says, and they did. They have. Over and over, for ten years. Without his friends, without his band, he doesn't know where he'd be. Aimless. Shiftless. A wanderer. 

Just…lost.

"If I see him, I see him," Eddie finally concedes. 

But he has no plans to see Steve Harrington. Not this trip. Not any trip. 

He's snuck in and out of town a few times over the years, and hasn't ran into Steve yet. He's pretty sure they're on the same page about making sure they don't cross paths. And that's okay. Easier.

Finally alone, he pulls into Wayne's driveway in front of the comfortable little house. Eddie doesn't have a lot of money. But he worked his ass off while waiting for Gareth to finish high school. And every spare dime he had that wasn't earmarked for the band's move out west, went towards a house for Wayne. 

It's not paid off, not by a long shot. But it's theirs. Their home. The trailer was starting to cost more to upkeep than a down payment on a house would be, so Eddie made that his goal. The last thing he'd do before he left town.

He did it. They'd moved Wayne in. Him and Gareth, Jeff and Goodie. Steve. The kids. 

And then Steve had watched him go. It wasn't dramatic, their parting. The lore of it, between their friends, is far more interesting than the actual break-up ever was. 

It was just quiet recognition that it was over. Eddie was going, and Steve was staying. 

And he has stayed, all these years, as far as Eddie knows.

Steve opened an ice cream shop, selling artisan ice cream. Dustin has said Steve took some classes to learn how to make ice cream. Real ice cream. Fancy ice cream. And he took others to figure out how to run the business side. Ice cream, though. That's kind of a hilarious choice, after his stint at Scoops Ahoy when they were teens. 

Less hilarious, was that Steve fell in love again, and almost married someone else. A woman Eddie never met, and he's glad. He couldn't have handled it. Not a chance in hell. But, it didn't matter, Eddie heard through the grapevine a year or two ago that the relationship had ended, just as quietly as theirs had. 

At least Eddie had nothing to do with it. He would have, if all their mutual friends had gotten their way. Everybody had reached out, making sure he knew. Like it was his place to object. He left. Steve was bound to find someone else, eventually. 

Eddie's never bothered with love again. He doesn't have the time or the energy. His heart was broken, by his own doing, a decade ago. And he's just never felt like sweeping up the shattered pieces of his heart, to try to give them to someone else. 

It's broken, pretty much beyond repair, and he's used to it by now. He has one-night stands, he fucks around when the itch arises, but his heart? That's not in play. Not anymore. Been there, done that.

He gave that away a long time ago. 

Steve never gave it back, and Eddie never asked him to, so, here they are. 

Wayne opens the front door, and that's Eddie's cue. He steps out of the car and Wayne smiles. 

Eddie jogs up the drive, careful of the ice, but he can't resist rushing into his arms, barreling into his chest, squeezing him tight.

"There's my boy," Wayne says quietly, and Eddie just holds on longer. He might be over thirty years old, but he's still Wayne's boy. Always has been, always will be. "Merry Christmas, Eddie. I'm glad you came home."

"Me too, old man."

Hawkins might be a place he's avoided, but he's missed Uncle Wayne like crazy. 

He's thirty-two, but he suddenly feels much older, for some reason. 

Wayne cooks them dinner, just like he always did, and Eddie sits down in the recliner next to him, plate in hand, right in front of the television. 

The television is new since the last time Eddie was here, and large. Very large. Not at all in Wayne's usual style. Or budget.

"What possessed you to get a TV this big?" Eddie asks.

"Oh, a friend was getting a new one. Asked if I wanted this one. I said okay," Wayne says, not expanding on it. Like that's a full story. 

"You finally got some rich friends I don't know about?" Eddie teases. 

"You don't know everything about me, kid," Wayne teases back. 

That's true. Wayne doesn't know everything about him either. Just most things. The things that matter the most.

"So, what are your plans while you're home?" Wayne asks.

And Eddie shrugs. They're only here for a few days. He just assumed he'd hang out around the house.

"Carolyn Jones called last week. She's expecting us all for dinner the day after Christmas," Wayne says.

And Eddie expected nothing less. Mama Jones will want to gather them all, now that they're home. Gareth didn't warn him, but Gareth probably didn't know about it either. His mom is always gonna do what she wants, anyway. 

And she'll want all of her boys under her roof again, around her dining room table, for at least one meal. 

So, they'll all go, parents included, and update them all on their lives in California. It'll be loud and a big production. 

Not like tonight, just here with Wayne. 

Eddie sits around and Wayne comes up behind his chair and hands him a bowl of ice cream. Eddie digs his spoon into it, and this definitely isn't from the cheap, plastic party buckets they used to buy while he was growing up.

This is pistachio. Good pistachio, his favorite flavor.

"Is this from…you know?"

He can't even say his name. He definitely can't eat his ice cream.

"No," Wayne says, and Eddie nods. Of course not. Eddie laughs just trying to picture Uncle Wayne buying fancy containers of Steve's ice cream. It's a ridiculous thought.

The next day, they have a quiet Christmas day at home, just the two of them. And they play the guitar together, and Eddie has fun like he hasn't in a long time. They should have made this trip longer. Only a couple days won't be enough. 

They take turns picking songs to play, and it's just like it was when he was growing up. Before he got an attitude. He's missed Uncle Wayne, and this is the best Christmas Eddie's had in a long time.

The next morning, they're hanging around in Gareth's living room, like they don't see each other the other fifty-one weeks of the year. 

"I'll make anything you boys want, you just have to go to the store and pick up the ingredients," Mama Jones says, and they start squabbling amongst themselves. All having different ideas. 

"She's my mom. I should get to pick," Gareth whines, and the rest of them grumble, but concede. They've never had a bad meal in this house, and they expect tonight will be no different. No matter what Gareth chooses.

They all nod, and look at him, expectantly.

"Lasagna?" Gareth suggests, and that works. That definitely works.

In the store, they've split the list in half, Gareth taking one half, and Eddie taking the other. It's not even on the list, but Eddie stands in the freezer section for a long time, just staring at a small shelf of pints of ice cream. Dairy King Creamery. There's a locally made sticker on the glass, and these are Steve's, for sure. 

Eddie reaches for the handle, and stops before he grasps it. That's not what they're here for. Not today. Maybe later, maybe before he goes back to L.A.

He wanders to an aisle he actually needs to be in, and he's squatted down, looking at all the different lasagna noodle choices. He doesn't know what the best option is. The cheapest? His instinct is always to go for the cheapest. But he consults his half of the list again. 

Mama Jones has actually specified. That makes this much easier. So, he picks up three of the red boxes, and puts them in his basket, and pushes himself back upright.

"Eddie?" 

Eddie hears the soft, familiar voice, and freezes. 

Steve.

He turns and looks, and sure enough Steve is standing in the aisle of the Big Buy, right behind him. Pushing a cart full of groceries. Eddie wants to paw through them. Wants to learn something new about him. 

He doesn't.

"Hi," Eddie says, just as soft. 

Steve smiles at him, and Eddie smiles back. There's no bad blood here, not really, just distance. And time. 

And then Steve is coming at him, clearly going to hug him, so Eddie just opens his arms. Wraps them around Steve, banging his basket against Steve's back, and holds on. He still smells like Steve, and Eddie leans into it for longer than he should, he's sure of it. 

"Eddie, hurry up!" Gareth shouts, rounding the corner of the aisle. 

Eddie turns his head, and Gareth has frozen like a deer in headlights. And Eddie steps back from Steve, reluctantly. 

"Hey, Gareth," Steve says, crossing the distance, and offering him his hand.

Gareth takes it, and Eddie watches them shake. 

"You all home this year?" Steve asks, looking between them, and they both nod. 

"Yeah, all of us," Gareth says, once he realizes Eddie's not going to answer. He can't. His mouth is dry. 

"Well, maybe I'll see you around town? I'm going to the Christmas parade tomorrow night, if either of you want to grab a hot chocolate and catch up or anything," Steve says, like it's an offer for the both of them.

It's not. It's an offer for Eddie. Eddie knows that. He's sure Gareth knows it, too.

Eddie nods, against his own will, but it makes Steve smile. So he doesn't regret it, too much. He doesn't have to go. Steve will understand if he doesn't show up.

And at that, Steve walks back towards his cart, grasping Eddie's shoulder and squeezing it on the way by.

Eddie watches him go, watches him walk away. 

It is his turn to do that, after all.

When he turns the other way, Gareth's eyes are huge. Bugging out. Eddie just points at him, willing him to swallow all that down, at least until they're in the car. 

Gareth seems to understand, and keeps quiet. Which is a Christmas miracle, for real. 

It's only as he's bagging his groceries that he realizes the Christmas parade is after Christmas? What sense does that make?

"Is the Christmas parade really tomorrow? After Christmas?" Eddie asks the cashier, and she nods.

"They wanted it on Saturday, and well, you know Hawkins," she says.

Yeah, Eddie knows Hawkins. 

They load the groceries into the rental car, and Eddie watches as Steve does the same across the parking lot, putting his stuff in the back seat of his pickup. Steve Harrington has a pickup now. Eddie would have never guessed that.

As soon as they're in the car, Gareth is vibrating.

"Okay, just let it out," Eddie says, resigned.

"You were fucking hugging him!" Gareth yells, and Eddie just looks at him, waiting to see if he's finished. Surely, this mouthy little shit has more to say than just that. But he just looks at Eddie. 

"Was I supposed to dodge it? He hugged me first, I'll have you know."

"And you hated that, I'm sure," Gareth says, rolling his eyes.

"I never said that," Eddie answers.

"Well?"

"Well, what? I saw him. It was fine. We both lived."

"Are you going to the parade tomorrow?" Gareth asks.

"Probably not," Eddie says, and Gareth laughs as Eddie's putting the car into reverse. Gareth clearly isn't believing him. That's okay. 

He shouldn't believe him.

Of course he's going.

And the next night, Eddie stands on the street, looking like he's waiting for the parade to start. But he's only waiting on Steve. Maybe Steve won't show up? Maybe it wasn't a real offer? Maybe he was just being nice?

But those thoughts, those fears, all melt away when he sees Steve pushing his way through the crowded sidewalk, stopping in front of Eddie, smiling.

"You want that hot chocolate?" Steve asks, and Eddie rubs his hands together. It's cold out here, so yeah, that sounds pretty damn good, right about now. At least it'll give him something to do with his hands.

Steve leads him down the street, and Eddie follows. He's not sure where they're going, but Steve pauses in front of a darkened storefront. Eddie looks up. It's Steve's store, and Eddie watches as Steve pushes the key into the lock, and turns it, pushing the door open.

The little bell on the door, ringing out in the silence. 

Once they're inside the warmth of the shop, Steve locks the door behind them again, and nods for Eddie to follow him to the back. Eddie does, looking around as he goes. The wall is decorated with old pictures. The kids. Robin. Lots of Steve and Robin, together. Several of them in their Scoops Ahoy uniforms as teens. 

He wonders where Robin is. This ice cream shop is half her baby, too, he's pretty sure. They don't do anything without each other. It's impossible. 

There's a larger one of a teenage Steve, armed with an ice cream scoop, his other hand on his hip, looking very serious. He wasn't. Couldn't be, not in that little sailor suit. It makes Eddie smile. He remembers those days, with a hazy fondness. It's been so long now, but he can still picture Steve Harrington behind that brightly lit counter, just glowing. 

Eddie keeps looking at the pictures, and there's one of him, too. With the band, when they were young, and still playing The Hideout every week.

Eddie runs his finger over the glass, and feels an ache in his chest. This was so long ago. A lifetime, really. He hasn't felt that young in a very long time. Gareth was a baby. They all were.

"You comin'?" Steve asks, and Eddie follows the sound of his voice. Steve's standing behind the counter, holding up the divider for Eddie, just like he did all those years ago in Scoops Ahoy. He looks even better now, in a warm sweater instead of dumb sailor hat. 

"Yeah, I'm coming," Eddie says, and he shrugs off his coat and hangs it on the rack at the front of the store before he follows Steve to the back, where he watches Steve make two mugs of hot chocolate.

"From packets, Harrington? I thought this was an artisan shop?" Eddie teases.

"Artisan ice cream, I said nothing about artisan hot chocolate," Steve banters back.

Eddie had expected a cup of hot chocolate from some sort of street vendor anyway, not one Steve made in the office of his store. His private space, that Eddie's been invited into. To look around, to spend some time with his first love. 

His only love, honestly.

Eddie sits down on the couch, and soon enough he's being handed a steaming mug, and Steve is sitting down next to him, knees bumping against each other.

It's nothing. But it's also everything.

He's missed him so goddamn much. They can't go ten years without seeing each other again. No matter how painful it might be to look and not touch. Steve's too important. He's always been too important. 

"Your shop is perfect, Steve," Eddie finally says, waiting on his mug to cool.

"Thanks, Eddie," Steve says, "it's been pretty good. Even in the winter, surprisingly."

"That's great, I'm happy for you," Eddie says, smiling at him. "Why ice cream? Didn't you get enough of slinging it during high school?"

Steve smiles, "You know I make a mean scoop."

And he does. Long, steady strokes with precision. Perfect balls.

Eddie laughs, that sounds dirtier in his head than he meant it to. Years ago, he could have shared that thought out loud, but they aren't in that place together, not anymore.

Steve keeps talking, "I just thought, I can do this better. Better quality, better flavors. Just…better."

"It looks like you definitely did," Eddie says, and he means that.

Steve just shrugs, non-committal. But this is great. If he's been able to package it for retail sale, even just locally, that's really something.

"How's the band doing?" Steve asks, changing the subject. Or not, maybe. Maybe this is just pleasantries. All they have to say to each other, after all these years.

"Good. Good, we've got some great long-standing gigs. Guaranteed slots. We play most nights, somewhere or the other, and don't have to travel to do it," Eddie explains.

"That's great," Steve says. 

They both just keep saying how great things are. Things aren't great. Not really.  

"I'm happy you guys have made it," Steve adds.

Eddie laughs, "Made it might be a bit of a stretch, but we're working. We all do a lot of session work, Gareth especially. Session drummers are always needed, here or there."

"Do you have another job?" Steve asks, and Eddie knows exactly where this is going.

"No," Eddie still answers.

"Then you've made it, I say. You are a professional musician. Maybe not a famous one-"

"Hey!" Eddie interrupts, just ribbing him. He's right. But Steve often is. He was right to encourage them to take a chance on it. To see if they could make it work. And they have. They are professional musicians. Together, and apart. 

"Goodie's got a girlfriend he's getting serious with. I think he's gonna move in with her, soon," Eddie says. "Maybe get married." 

Eddie regrets saying it, as soon as it leaves his big mouth. 

"I heard you were going to get married. I'm sorry that didn't work out," Eddie says, looking at his hands. 

"Thanks, it just wasn't meant to be, you know?" Steve asks. 

And, yeah, Eddie knows. 

"Do you still live with Gareth?" Steve asks, and Eddie watches as his face tightens, like he regrets asking. Eddie gets it. He'd be too scared to ask, too.

So, Eddie answers fast, putting him out of his misery.

"Yep, I'll never be able to shake that kid," Eddie says, and Steve chuckles.

"You wouldn't want to if you could," Steve says, and that's the truth. He wouldn't. He likes living with Gareth. He isn't lonely. And he's with someone he loves. That's a comfort Eddie wouldn't want to give up even if he could.

It might not be a love like he once shared with Steve, but it's still a love. Platonic with a capital P, as Robin would say.

"Where's Robin?" Eddie asks, once she's popped into his head. Seeing Steve once without Robin might be normal, but twice? No way. 

"She's on a Christmas cruise," Steve says, with a grin.

"No fucking way. The Robin I knew would never."

"The Robin you knew wasn't ass over teakettle in love," Steve says, smiling. "I'm happy for her. Even if she left me alone for Christmas. She invited me to come, of course, and I thought third-wheeling it on a ship to Mexico might be fun. And warm, at least. So, I considered it, but one of us needed to stay with the shop."

Eddie thinks he was thisclose to missing Steve on this trip, too. If he'd decided to just close up the shop and go with her. 

"Well, good for her. Tell her I said hi," Eddie says.

"I definitely will," Steve says with a smile. "I'm sure she'll say hi back."

Eddie isn't so sure about that. Robin was very against Eddie leaving back then, and wasn't scared to let them all know. She was the only one fighting for them to stay, and she lost, all her protests drowned out by Eddie's need to run.

"Did you have a good Christmas?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah, it was quiet. A day off, though, so that was nice," Steve says. "You?"

"Yeah, it was just Wayne and me at the house. But that was good."

"I'm sure he's missed you," Steve says.

"I've definitely missed him," Eddie answers, because he has. More than he realized, maybe.

This is getting too serious, too sad, so Eddie needs to fix that. 

"Am I gonna get to try any of this famous ice cream?" Eddie asks, changing the subject to something lighter, and Steve laughs, but jerks his head towards the front of the store.

He picks up one of the little sample spoons, and dips it into a tub, and hands it to Eddie.

"What is it?" Eddie asks.

"Just try it, Munson," Steve says, and Eddie does as he was told.

It's sweet, and chocolate based, but with a depth Eddie can't put his finger on.

"Chocolate Cherry Bourbon," Steve says, and Eddie smiles.

"It's good. Really good," Eddie says. And it is. It's very smooth on the tongue, like the best ice creams all are.

"It's Wayne's favorite, I think," Steve says, and Eddie looks over at him. He never considered that Wayne would still be in contact with Steve on any sort of regular basis. But they still live in the same town, and Wayne didn't break up with Steve. Eddie did. 

"But he also likes this one," Steve adds, getting a new little spoonful and offering it up to Eddie.

Eddie puts that one in his mouth, too. 

"Oh, shit, that's good," Eddie says, closing his eyes to savor it.

"Butterscotch-Infused Whiskey and Pecans," Steve says.

"An ocean of flavor," Eddie teases, and Steve hip-checks him.

And then Steve gets him another sample, and this one isn't spiked, Eddie doesn't think, anyway. But it's bright red with black and white swirls.

It's a punch of chocolate, deep and rich. And maybe cream cheese? Eddie isn't a professional taste tester. But it's very good.

"Hellfire," Steve says, with a smirk, "hope you don't mind."

Eddie swallows. Of course he doesn't mind. That Steve would even want to name it after something Eddie loved so deeply, is really something.

"Of course I don't mind," Eddie says, handing the used spoon back to Steve and watching as he tosses it in the trash along with the others. "I'm honored. That you'd, you know, think of me. Of Hellfire."

Steve's whole face softens, "Eddie. I think about you all the time."

And Eddie is moving before he's even decided to do it. Pressing his cold lips against Steve's warm ones. Steve catches him and kisses him back, tangling his hand in Eddie's hair. It's desperate, this kiss. Demanding, and pent up, with years of wanting. 

Years of waiting.

Eddie clings to him, desperate to be closer to him. Because he is desperate for Steve, there's no denying that. 

He always has been. 

When they finally, finally break apart, both breathing hard. Chests heaving with the intensity of it all, Eddie smiles. He's embarrassed. But not that embarrassed. 

"Wanna get out of here?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods. "You want an ice cream for the road?"

And you know, Eddie does, so he nods again.

So, Steve grabs a waffle cone, and piles it high with a fourth untested flavor, handing it over. 

Eddie licks it, and it's pistachio. Eddie's favorite.

"My favorite," Eddie says, and Steve smiles.

"Yeah, I remember," Steve says, and that settles right into Eddie's chest.

Steve reaches into the freezer and turns the little sign that's stuck into the ice cream around, so Eddie can read it: Eddie's Pistachio. 

He grins at Steve, and takes another lick. This one with a promise behind it. 

Steve helps him put on his coat, trying to help him juggle it and the cone. And when they step onto the street, Steve looks at him, "You drive here?"

Eddie shakes his head. Wayne only lives a couple blocks away, and he figured finding parking would be a bigger hassle than just walking.

Steve puts his hand on the small of Eddie's back, and leads him around the block, and then into the alley. His pickup is parked back there. There's a perk, Eddie supposes. Dedicated parking.

Eddie climbs up in it, and settles in, still licking his ice cream cone. And Steve pulls them onto the street, and away from the parade. Since most of the town is there, the streets are dead. And Eddie looks around, taking in the lights. 

Steve knows what he's doing, of course he does, so he steers them into Loch Nora, and lets him look at the rich houses, decorated to the nines. At least that's never changed.

They pass Harrington House, and Eddie wonders if Steve lives there. Or, if his parents still do. Steve reads his mind.

"My mom and dad flew south a few years ago," Steve says, "and by that time I had my own house, so they sold it."

Eddie nods. He knows it's hard to leave your childhood home, permanently. He's done it twice. He's an expert, and it hurts in a way you never expect, and you never really get over. That the place you grew up, isn't yours to call home anymore. 

"I'm sorry," Eddie says, and Steve smiles.

"It's okay. I like my house," Steve says. "You want to see it?"

And Eddie swallows. He knows what that offer entails, if he wants it to, and he nods, "Yeah. I do."

"Finish that cone, and we'll do that," Steve says, and it's husky and full of promise.

Eddie licks faster.

They pull up in front of a house in one of the nicer neighborhoods, but not Loch Nora. And Eddie follows Steve up the path, and onto the porch. Once they're inside, Steve pushes his front door closed behind them, grappling for Eddie's coat, trying to strip it off his shoulders, but they're too close to each other. Too tangled, and Eddie laughs. 

He helps the process along, shedding it, finally.

And then he's attached to Steve, again. It's desperate, and he should probably be embarrassed, but he's not. He needs this. He needs Steve. He's always needed Steve.

And he lets Steve lead him to his bedroom.

Steve's walking him backwards, kissing him, hands roaming all over Eddie's body.

"Where have you been all my life?" Eddie asks, pressing his face into Steve's neck.

"Right here where you left me," Steve answers, but there's no heat behind it, only the truth.

And Eddie presses his lips to Steve's neck, and smiles when Steve moans under his touch. Eddie loves to know that he can still play him like a goddamn fiddle, it makes him endlessly happy.

Steve kicks open his bedroom door, and pulls his shirt over his head. Eddie follows his lead, and watches as Steve digs in his nightstand, producing a bottle of lube and a row of condoms.

He throws them on the bed, and starts pulling his jeans down.

Fuck, yes. 

After, Steve is stroking the back of his hand, legs tangled together, the sheet pooled around their waists. Eddie hasn't been this warm in years. This comfortable. Not since Steve, the first time. 

"I know you have a whole life there, and I have a whole life here," Steve says, "but if you want to pretend things are the same, just for a while. Just while you're here. We could. We can, you know. I've missed you."

And Eddie wants. 

Wants that more than anything, but he's scared that blundering down the road not taken is just going to hurt more than ever before once they reach that fork at the end, again. That dead end that separates them off, again. 

But he's already in this. The damage has been done. So, he turns and smiles. Nodding.

"I've missed you, too."

And the grin Steve gives him is blinding.

"I could be your sweetheart, again, just for the weekend. While you're home," Steve says, like that isn't something that's going to break Eddie's fucking heart. 

Eddie gathers up Steve's hand, and pulls it to his chest, his heart.

Steve's been his sweetheart for a long time, together or not.

"You've always been my sweetheart," Eddie says, and it might sound like bullshit, but it's the truth. It's always been the truth. 

Steve burrows closer, resting his head on Eddie's chest. Over his heart. He runs his fingers over Eddie's bare stomach, touching the tattoos there. He's gotten a lot more ink since he's seen Steve last, and Steve is touching them all, getting acquainted.

Eddie runs his hand down Steve's arm, pausing at a raised scar under his elbow.

"Oven rack. Decided right then and there that cookies in the shop were a no go," Steve says, laughing a little into Eddie's skin.

"Sounds wise," Eddie says, and he'd kiss the scar if he could reach it. Later. He'll do it later.

The door that was cracked open, pushes open wider, and Eddie just about jumps out of his skin.

"That's just Pudding," Steve says, as a big, fluffy cream colored cat jumps up onto the bed. Then stopping at the foot, looking at Eddie.

Steve laughs, "It's fine, Puddy. C'mere, boy. It's just Eddie."

Like the cat is going to understand that, Eddie thinks, but the cat stomps up Steve's legs, and then steps a tentative paw onto Eddie's bare chest. Eddie reaches out and pets him on head, and the big cat leans into Eddie's touch.

"See? You're already friends," Steve says, and he isn't sure if Steve is talking to him or the cat.

The cat meows, and then hops down, before walking back out the door he'd opened. 

Steve curls back up against Eddie, wrapping his arm over his chest.

"You'll still be here in the morning, right?" Steve asks.

"I'll still be here," Eddie promises, and closes his eyes.

And he is, and they sleep in, just lazing in bed all morning. Trading kisses, and blow jobs, and just touching each other all over before Steve has to get up and open the shop. He drops Eddie back off at Wayne's with a goodbye kiss, and Wayne steps out on the porch, and waves. Steve waves back, and Eddie trudges through the snow towards the house. It snowed more overnight, leaving a fresh layer of white all over town.

It looks brand new.

It feels brand new.

Eddie slips past Wayne at the door, "Don't say a word, old man."

"I wouldn't dare," Wayne answers, holding the door open for him.

When the doorbell rings, Eddie's hopeful, for just a second, that it's Steve. But Steve's at work, and Robin's out of the country.

So, it's not Steve, it's just Gareth.

"I tried to call you this morning. Wayne said you didn't come home last night," Gareth says, slightly snippy.

He pushes past Eddie, already hanging up his coat. Eddie guesses he's staying.

"So, I take it you two talked," Gareth says, finally looking at Eddie. 

"Yeah, we talked," Eddie says.

"And fucked?" Gareth asks, and Eddie isn't going to be shamed by this kid. 

"And fucked. What of it?"

"Was just trying to gauge how bad the cleanup from this was gonna be. So, bad, right?"

Eddie shrugs. He doesn't think so. It doesn't feel bad right now, but maybe it will when the weekend ends, and he's back in L.A., without Steve, again. 

"We were just two old friends, having some casual sex," Eddie says, knowing it's a lie even as it rolls off his tongue.

Gareth laughs, "You and I are old friends. And we don't have casual sex with each other."

"Did you want to? You never said," Eddie teases, and Gareth shoves his shoulder.

Eddie smiles at him, then decides to be honest, "You know what I mean. It's comfortable, with Steve. With someone you know that well, even if a lot of time has passed. It was just like riding a bike."

"Eddie…"

"Gareth…" Eddie mocks, then softens, "I'm a big boy. I know what I've done."

"I hope so," Gareth says, digging around in Wayne's fridge, then moving to the freezer.

"And you're already buying his fancy-ass ice cream, you're just asking to suffer," Gareth says, plucking a tub out of the freezer.

"Those aren't mine, and Wayne's a dirty liar," Eddie laughs. "He gave me some the other night, and I asked if it was Steve's, and he said no."

"Well, it is from the Dairy King himself," Gareth says, popping off the lid of a bright purple container, peeling back the foil seal, and getting a spoon. "You want?"

Eddie lets Gareth feed him a spoonful, and it's good. They've all been good so far, but Eddie's not really surprised.

He turns the container in Gareth's hand so he can read the label: Lavender Berry.

"Are you gonna give me shit about this?" Eddie asks, and Gareth just looks at him. Shoving another spoonful in his mouth.

Then, Gareth looks away, and that's not the reaction Eddie was expecting.

"What?" Eddie asks.

"You are coming home with us, right? Back to L.A.?" Gareth asks, not looking at him.

Eddie reaches forward and squeezes both of his shoulders, "Yes, I'm going home with you. I promise."

Gareth nods, but doesn't really look like he believes him, and Eddie understands why.

Wayne comes in later and nods at them.

"I owe you some ice cream," Gareth says, and Wayne just nods again. 

Wayne just doesn't get too worked up about things like that. He knew Eddie was home. Anything in house would be fair game to eat, as far as Wayne would remember. 

"So, I thought that ice cream the other night wasn't Steve's?" Eddie asks, eyeing Wayne as he stands by his edge of the couch.

"Steve's? You never asked if it was Steve's, you asked if it was you know's and it sure wasn't," Wayne says, with just a hint of a smirk.

"You're an asshole, old man."

"Learned it from you," Wayne says back, and pops Eddie on the head with the newspaper he has in his hand.

Eddie grins up at him

Steve turns up again, after his shop has closed for the evening, and while they didn't have plans, Eddie was waiting on him. Steve has a brown paper sack, and opens the freezer and starts refilling it.

"Gareth stopped by earlier, said he owed Wayne some ice cream," Steve says, replacing a purple pint container just like the one Gareth had eaten, and then several others.

Eddie picks up a green one: Eddie's Pistacho.

It's a love letter, and one Steve probably assumed Eddie would never read.

"He didn't owe him that much ice cream," Eddie teases, and Steve laughs.

"Some are from me. I try to keep him stocked up," Steve says, and Eddie loves him for that. He loves him for lots of things, but especially that he's still stayed in contact with Wayne while Eddie was gone.

Wayne's out at his usual bar with his friends, and Steve settles onto the couch with Eddie, draping arm over Eddie's shoulders. It looks casual, but it's not. Eddie knows better, but he doesn't care, and he leans into Steve's side.

They hadn't made plans, but Eddie had still expected him. He thinks they're gonna just gonna act like nothing has changed, for these couple days. He's okay with that, okay with anything he can get.

Steve is scratching his blunt nails against Eddie's jeans, and it's driving Eddie a little crazy. 

"Want to go out and eat, or…" Steve trails off.

"Anything is good with me," Eddie answers, and that's true.

Steve gets up and starts going through Wayne's cabinets, and watching him, Eddie is certain it's not the first time he's been in this house, in that kitchen. Wayne has never mentioned that, but Eddie understands why he didn't.

"We could make pancakes?" Steve offers, and Eddie nods. 

It's just a box mix, but they stand together, and watch each pancake brown and bubble in the old cast iron pan. Steve's putting butter down to melt before spooning each one into the hot skillet. They're thick and fluffy, and when they sit down at the bar to eat them, they are pretty damn good for being from a box. 

Eddie doesn't cook all that much with their weird, late hours, and Gareth doesn't either, so they rely on delivery and take-out a lot more than they should. They could make pancakes from a box. Maybe they should, more often. Get his own cast iron pan, and grow up, maybe.

After they've eaten, they do the dishes, side-by-side, and one thing leads to another, and they push and pull each other into Eddie's bedroom, not stopping until they're sprawled out on the bed, Steve on top of him. 

Eddie cups Steve's face, and Steve leans into his touch, turning his face until he can press a kiss into Eddie's palm. 

And that's…everything. The dam between has not only sprung a leak, it's now rushing out full speed, wide open.

"Sweetheart," Eddie says, and Steve closes his eyes, just leaning into Eddie's touch. 

"I still love you, Eddie," Steve says, eyes still closed.

And Eddie grips his hip with his other hand, "I still love you, too."

Then Steve presses down, grinding their bodies together, and it's like no time has passed. Like he's still twenty-two, and madly in love with his boy.

No, now he's thirty-two, and madly in love with this man.

They're cuddled up on the couch, watching television, when Wayne comes home.

"Night, boys," Wayne says as he passes through, heading on to bed.

"Well, I should go," Steve says, standing.

Eddie stands with him. 

"You can stay, you know," Eddie says, and Steve nods. They fly out tomorrow. He wants Steve to stay. Or he'll go home with Steve. Whatever Steve wants. He wants one more night with him, however he can get it.

And Steve walks to the guest room, so Eddie follows. The sheets are still a tangled mess from earlier, and he's sure Wayne noticed as he walked by. Eddie doesn't care, and he knows that Wayne doesn't either. 

Eddie didn't pack a lot of clothes, but he rummages through what he has, and throws Steve a t-shirt and a pair of boxers. 

Steve holds them, and smiles back at him.

They get ready for bed, and then curl up together under the quilt. Hands and mouths wandering, as they whisper promises to each other in the dark that Eddie hopes they can keep.

When the sun peeks through the curtains, Eddie groans. He's not ready. He wasn't ready the first time, and he's definitely not ready now. They eat breakfast with Wayne, sitting around the kitchen table, drinking coffee, just talking. After Wayne goes to work, hugging Eddie goodbye until next time, they take a shower together, and Eddie memorizes every inch of Steve's body. Every new mole, every new scar. The fact that he has even thicker chest hair than he had, before.

Eddie wants to remember it all. 

There's a horn honking out front, and it's the band, ready to go. Eddie's not ready. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

He hugs Steve a little longer, before the honking becomes too much to ignore. Wayne's neighbors are gonna get pissed.

Eddie opens the front door to acknowledge them, and none of them seem surprised to see Steve following him out of the house. He supposes Gareth told them, or Steve's truck in the drive gave it away. 

Steve leans in, hugging Eddie again, pressing their lips together, before breaking apart. Steve leans his face close to Eddie's, "It was nice to be your sweetheart again."

And Eddie wants to cry, might just do it. 

He cups Steve's cheek, "You're always gonna be my sweetheart."

"Can we-"

"Eddie, c'mon! We're gonna miss our flight!" Goodie screams from the backseat, interrupting Steve. A broken record, that one.

Steve has him pressed against the side of the car, but Eddie manages to get his hand behind him, flipping Goodie off through the window. He feels the window coming down, and he snatches his hand back before Goodie crushes his hand, or bites his fingers. Something unpleasant, for sure.

Eddie pushes off the car, still kissing Steve, still pressed close together. 

When they finally break apart, Eddie rests his forehead on Steve's.

"We're gonna make this work, right?" Eddie asks. "For longer than the weekend?"

And Steve nods.

"I gotta go now," Eddie says, even if he doesn't want to. Not at all. "But I'd rather stay with you. You know that, right? I'm not running from you. Not again."

"I know. Call me when you get home," Steve says.

"I will," Eddie promises.

"I'll come see you next month," Steve promises, and Eddie squeezes him harder. 

"Eddie!" Jeff yells, and Eddie knows that's his actual cue. If Jeff's getting involved, they actually are running late.

"I love you, sweetheart," Eddie says, "I've always loved you."

"I've always loved you, too," Steve echoes, and Eddie kisses him one more time.

And then they're driving away, Steve in the rearview mirror, just like he was a decade ago.

Only, this time, he's smiling and waving. 

Eddie leans out of the passenger window, and winter air is freezing, but he looks back, waves, and blows Steve a kiss.

He can't see the details of Steve's face, not from this far, but he sees his hands in his pockets, and how he rocks backwards on his heels. And Eddie can read that body language, perfectly, even all these years later.

He's laughing.

Eddie slides back into his seat, and he smiles, pulling his hair over his mouth.

"Jesus Christ," Goodie mumbles, and Eddie tosses his head back and laughs. Gareth reaches over and pats him on the thigh, and Eddie turns and smiles at him, and Gareth is smiling back.

"Hey, sweetheart," Eddie says, wedging the phone against his ear as he's unpacking his suitcase. 

"Hey, honey," Steve says, and Eddie can hear the smile on his face. "Your flight okay?"

"Uneventful. Except Goodie acting like a big ol' baby. He's thirty years old and still scared to fly. He's ridiculous. We haven't crashed yet," Eddie teases and Steve laughs. 

"Be nice," Steve tells him, and Eddie laughs. Impossible. If they weren't making fun of each other, something would really be wrong. "Robin's home. She's mad she missed the big reunion."

"Well, she should haven't decided to go on a Christmas cruise," Eddie says.

"That's what I said!" Steve hollers, and Eddie can hear Robin in the background scrabbling for the phone.

"Hey, dingus número dos" she says.

"Hey, Buckley," Eddie says, "sorry I missed you."

"Yeah, yeah, I bet you are," she says, like she's threatening. She's not threatening. Well, not too threatening. "You better listen to me, Munson. If you hurt him-"

"I know, I know," Eddie says, "I'm in to win it, Buckley."

"You better be," she says, and then she lowers her voice to a whisper, "I've missed you, too, you know."

"Back at you, Robbie," he says.

"Do I get to come visit with Steve?" she asks, and Eddie smiles.

"Any time you want to," he promises.

"I'll hold you to that," she assures, "I'll just want until you've got all the fucking out of your system."

"That's never gonna happen," Eddie says, and she laughs.

"I'm happy for him, and for you, too. Took you long enough," she says.

He laughs.

They've been in this thing, alone and apart. Now, they're gonna be in it, together and apart. Hopefully not forever, but this is an improvement, that's for goddamn sure. 

"How was your cruise with your lady love?" Eddie asks, and Robin laughs.

"It was great," she says, and tells him all about it, and then she pauses for a long few seconds, and Eddie wonders if the call has dropped, but then she's speaking again, softly, "We should all go together, next year."

"Count me in," Eddie says easily, "now, put my sweetheart back on."

And Robin says bye and does just that.

"Hi, it's me again," Steve says, and Eddie couldn't be happier.

Him again is the dream. 

And Eddie listens as Steve talks about his newest flavor idea, and Eddie can't wait to try it the next time he's back home. He doesn't know what their long-term plan looks like, just that they're gonna do this life thing together for a while. See what happens.

They didn't do so hot flying solo, so he's definitely ready to try it as partners again. Now that they're both older. Now that they both know what they want, and who they love.

It's gonna work out this time, Eddie can feel it.

And he smiles, Steve's voice in his ear.

Notes: I know this song has been done roughly a million times in every fandom. But it was on the song list for a reason. Because it's a damn good fic prompt. So, more cake? I hope.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemas and follow along! 🍨

If you want to see more of my entries from this challenge, they are in my Steddiemas tag right here!

[junebugwriter]

Transgender Dysphoria Blues

It was around 2005. In my dorms, I made a lot of different kinds of friends, and because it was the mid-2000s, we passed around CD's to show new music to each other. Back then, one of my friends introduced me to a band of theirs from their home state, a band called Against Me!. I said I enjoyed punk and emo stuff, and he said I'd like this band.

From the first moment, I heard the raw voice of the lead singer. This person was straining, yelling, screaming with melodic intensity and purpose, laser-focused on the rage, frustration, and despair that comes with young adulthood in the Bush era. They talked about love, and death, and how our future was sold out from under us. They sang

"Baby, I'm an anarchist and you're a spineless liberal We marched together for the eight-hour day and held hands in the streets of Seattle But when it came time to throw bricks through that Starbucks window You left me all alone, all alone..."

I was enthralled. I had never encountered anything like this music before. Well, that's not true. I'd heard punk before--older stuff, like the Clash, the Sex Pistols, the Ramones, stuff that spoke to a moment in time that seemed ancient to me but was only a couple of decades before--but not punk like this. Not punk that actually had some fucking teeth. Not punk that wasn't afraid to be proudly anarchistic, nakedly political, and darkly poetic in this way.

In 2007, I got the newer album, New Wave, and again, this was more of the stuff I loved. Sure, New Wave was a bit more polished, but it was still filled with all those rough emotions that spoke to a disaffected young "man" like me. There was something to the way the lead singer belted out those bars that really nailed something within me, something ineffable, intangible at the time. Something gestating quietly within my brain, a feeling that something wasn't quite right with me, but couldn't be named.

The final song on New Wave, "The Ocean," threw me for a loop. These lyrics... were different.

"And if I could have chosen, I would have been born a woman My mother once told me she would have named me Laura I'd grow up to be strong and beautiful like her...

There is an ocean in my soul Where the waters do not curve..."

At first, I thought this was simply poetic license, imagining a different life, imagining one in which they could be completely different, living a humble, domestic existence far from the drugs and rock and roll. One of simplicity, happiness, bliss. But... something gnawed at me. Why a woman? Why that name? Mysterious to my young brain.

I had not yet heard the word "transgender." I didn't have any context for it. But I knew the ocean in the soul, whose waters did not curve. I knew the depths that dwelled beneath. I knew that there was so much more to my being that even I couldn't quite understand.

Time passed. I graduated from undergrad, and had moved on to graduate school. In grad school, I had more education about LGBTQ+ issues, and had drawn closer to being in the "ally" camp of things, even in the Methodist church. I was drawn to the cause, yet couldn't quite understand why I identified with so many of the struggles they faced.

Near the end of it, a year before I graduated, news came out about the lead singer of Against Me!. She was transgender. Her name was Laura Jane Grace.

My mind raced. Wait, what? The singer with the raspy, raw, and to my mind, thoroughly masculine voice... was a woman now? I googled furiously. I had to learn more. I read every article about her. I drank deep of the news. I had to understand how this turn of events could be. Wait, someone can just... be a woman? And not know it? You can simply do that?

I watched some interviews with her. She seemed thoroughly natural in more feminine clothing. She smiled far more than I thought possible, knowing what she looked like before. She was... happy.

I was worried. What would happen to this band, now that their singer was different? Would her voice change? Would their songs change? I was nervous. But also... I was oddly excited. I knew what a trans person was. I knew that it was a thing you could be. But now, it suddenly became personal in a weird way. Because now I knew a trans person, if not personally, but through the art they made.

A couple years later, they came out with a new album. For whatever reason, I never took the time to listen to it. I had moved out to the country, and buying CDs was becoming passé, but I didn't know how else to buy music now, because I didn't want to bother buying songs through Apple. So... I never listened to it. Until recently.

Here's the title track of the album.

I no longer worried about the band. I knew that they were the same, just... actually wrestling with the thing that lurked within the ocean of Laura Jane Grace's soul.

With the kraken within the depths of my soul.

I was partly afraid of listening to the album. I was afraid of change. But I'm learning I'm more courageous than I thought I was. I'm learning to face the beast down in the depths, the dysphoria that stares back at me from the mirror each day. It has a name now. It has dimension, and weight, and yes, some days it is overwhelming and too much.

But I can fight it.

She wrestled with it in this album, highs and lows. Regrets, memories, eulogies for lost friends. All through the funhouse lens of gender dysphoria. And suddenly, all the rage, all the fury, came roaring back to the fore. The rage had an edge, and the edge cannot be dulled because it is an edge piercing all the way down to the spinal column. The cracks in the voice, the strain of the vocal cords, the tears and the joy and the endless, rocking waves of emotional turmoil... they can be viewed clearly now. They had a name.

It's a good album. I think every trans femme ought to listen to it, especially if you like punk. Because all the anarchist fury and anti-establishment wit is still there, just with a different set dressing, with a different lens, a different focus. If anything it's sharper. More raw. More powerful.

Happy Pride. This is the anthem of the month for me. I'm trans, and I'm going to help burn this world down build a better one in its ashes.

Thank you, Laura Jane, and Against Me!. You helped me understand the weapons in my hands better than any other band.

[munsonology]

I'm not catholic and have little to no knowledge about catholicism, but I do know this one church my grandma went to had the best stained glass windows. There was one in the attic that was a circle that overlooked the back gardens, which had been locked due to vandalism. So, you wouldn't see anything unless in the back gardens, and you couldn't get in unless the priest or the grounds keeper unlocked them (they had extremely high gates). The stained glass circle had various shades of pinks, blues and purples, and honestly idk what it depicted but as I said it was a circle.

Biker!Eddie fucking Nunny against that tho. Just enough exhibitionism to be taboo to nunny, but not enough to spook em. Of course no one could see, but the scandal!!

Omg yes!!! My grandma’s church is christian methodist and they have stained glass windows too. I’m not sure of the design, there might be one of jesus and I remember something in the back where the preacher comes out for service

Biker!eddie would raw dog the shit outta nunny in front of a stain glass window of jesus 😭😭 fuck her from behind so he can push her face into the glass, “there you go, you like that nunny?” She reaches behind for his hand, entangling their fingers together.

“Yes—fuck! Eddie I’m so close,” she cries.

“Lick the glass baby.”

Her habit bunched around her waist, panties around her ankle. She licks the glass as she’s told.

Eddie’s ears perk up hearing voices of the priest and his guests. Father was giving a tour of the grounds to benefactors, putting emphasis on how much money the church would need. “There’s no dollar amount to feed the hungry,” he said. “Or for a new elevator for our disabled—or a reliable car to spread the word,” he chuckles.

“You told me nobody would be up here,” Eddie whispered in her ear. “Looks like I’ll have to improvise.”

Cock still hard and inside nunny’s sweet cunt, he takes out the switchblade from his pocket. He bends over and runs the blade up and down nunny’s leg. He circles the handle around her clit and cunt, “not yet, my little sinner.”

Eddie slices nunny’s panties from around her ankles. He holds the fabric to his nose and breathes her scent in. “Fresh cum, just how I like.”

Eddie spits in the crotch of the panties and shoved them in nunny’s mouth. “Will that keep you quiet?”

Nunny nods eagerly. “Good. Now, I better see spit on that glass baby. Get to lickin’.”

We’re all going on the first bus to hell 😭😭😭

Also the priest begging for money for a new elevator and a car is true! My grandmas church was raising money for a elevator and the preacher showed up with a new mustang and a side chick 🙃

[booiiee]

Brooklyn Baby

Read Chapter 1 here

-----

Chapter - 2

“Is the silence bothering everyone or is it just me?” Eric chimed, cutting through the silence of the table.

J- I think Miss Rose here is upset that we ruined her afternoon plans of a sad lunch here at the cafeteria

R- I’ll have you know that I very much enjoy my lunches here at the hospital cafeteria and they are not sad

J- Oh why? Do you watch fancams of us in your free time?

God why is he smirking? As if his face wasn’t already making you angry/ God he is so gorgeous it actually hurts.

R- No not all of you!

J- Oh so just your bias then? WHo is your bias?

E- Oh yeah I wanna know too. And if it’s me I’ll act surprised okay?

R- Well it used to be you Eric, but it was Juyeon last I had the time to you know, catch up with the content.

J- Ah that’s disappointing, I almost thought you’d say my name. Specially with how defensive you were back there saying “I could never hate Hyunjae not in this life for sureee”

See you love this boy, but you also have zero tolerance to someone mimicking you, both of these things can be true. So if you said “I do not care about you enough to hate you that is why I said that!”, it really doesn't mean anything, to you at least.

The change in his expression was quick but you caught it, Eric returning with your drinks looks puzzled with the silence.

J- Well, we will be taking your leave doctor, you’ll see Eric next week.

E- And you the week after cause-

J- Let’s not bore her with details she is not interested in, Eric. Let’s go.

E- Oh and doc, this is yours, please take it. J looked for it for hours before we finalized it.

The two wear their masks and leave with Eric shouting “see you doc” from across the cafeteria while Hyunjae looked like he could not be out of here faster.

You open the gift and find a note that says “Butterflies love roses” and let out a loud gasp seeing the heart shaped bookmark with a butterfly engraved in the center.

(Ref reel: The bookmark )

Sleep was a luxury that night and you felt too guilty to afford it. You stayed up revisiting fancam of him and the edits from your now abandoned account. God you really loved this guy and the first time you met him you lashed out on him for his annoying trait- something that you’ve told all your friends you love about him.

In your most guilt filled heart and clouded mind, you did what you could think of and texted Eric, Gosh where is my professionalism!

R- Hi Eric, this is Doctor Rose. Sorry for texting you I need a little help

E- Heyyy Hi doc! I am happy you texted!

How can I help? Did you not like the present? 🙁

R- No, no that’s not it. I loved it. I actually wanted to thank Jaehyun for it and thought I should text him

E- Aww that is so thoughtful of you. Wait I’ll send over this contact to you

*1 Contact J *

R- Thank you Eric 🙂

E- Anytime doc 🌹

You haven’t been this anxious texting a guy since high school, which isn’t an evidence of the regularity of texting guys but rather a testament of how long it’s been since you’ve actively texted a guy.

R- hi Mr. Jaehyun, this is doctor rose from NewYork-Presbyterian Brooklyn Methodist Hospital.

J- Oh hello Doc

How may i help you?

R- I wanted to thank you for the present, it was really thoughtful of you

J- I am happy you liked it

R- And I wanted to apologise

For earlier today

I really shouldn’t have spoken to you like that and I really didn’t mean to say that I do not give a fuck about you to hate you. It’s just that I am really sensitive to people mimicking me and I get annoyed easily and-

*Jaehyun calling*

J- Hi doc, i figured it's best if we spoke on the phone and let me start by apologising. We don’t know each other enough for me to be mimicking you I am sorry, you had the right to be annoyed.

R- And I should not have spoken to you like that either

J- Well I can think of something to accept your apology

You should start calling me by my name

R- oh….okay sure do you prefer hyunjae or jaehyun?

J- my fans call me hyunjae and i gather you are not one so-

R- I told you that is not the casee

J- So you like me then?

(I love you boy if you only knew)

R- I dont hate you

J- Easy save Rose. easy save

R- Well then goodnight

Thank you really for the bookmark, it’s gorgeous. And for the note too, it’s cute.

J- You’re named after a flower of course I am gonna make these references

R- Not a lot of people do that actually to my surprise

J- Well you have me now so don’t be surprised

R- Is he insane?

J- Ouch i thought we were becoming friends :/

R- Did i say that out loud????

J- Do you replay all your sentences in your head before you saythem to me?

R- No!!!!

*Jaehyun laughs*

J- cute

Goodnight Rose, hope you have a good day tomorrow

R- You too. Hope you have a good time at the fan event

J- Of course you know our schedule, thank you

*Call ends*

R- YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE WHO I JUST SPOKE TO!!!!

D- If you don’t say hyunjae or Chris hemsworth i dont wanna know

R- ITS HYUNJAEEE

D- WHATTTTTT

The debrief with daisy lasted longer than your call with him and you were sure if hyunjae was anywhere near you he could hear her squeal. Gosh it was all so surreal, now that you were narrating it to her you realised how unreal it was that you just spoke to HYUNJAE.

To your utter ( & pleasant ) surprise you did see hyunjae the next week, smiling as he walked towards you, Eric was still at his session so you guys will be talking alone, well not completely alone, it was the hospital cafeteria.

R- I thought you were busy this week

J- Awww you’re missing me

R- NO I AM NOT

J- Dare i say, i missed you too?

R- oh

J- Clearly not as much as you did but yeah

R- um you want something?

J- A fraction of your schedule yeah

R- I meant from the menu

J- Oh in that case nothing

R- You sure you don’t wanna eat something? You had a busy wee-

You did not realise how close he was to your face until you turned around.

J- Careful rose, you don’t wanna get me habituated to you

GOD WHY DOES HE LOOK SO PRETTY!!!!

R- oh um okay

E- Wassuuupp my two favourite people in the world?!

R- Hey Eric how was your session?

E- It was so boring today i hate writing stuff

J- don't you have a schedule to run to?

E- schedule?

OH YEAH RIIIGHTTT. I gotta run doc rose, i got a schedule see ya

R- Bye-

J- So where were we?

R- In the cafeteria?

J- Funny. You know what I'm talking about

R- No I don't

J- Yes you do

Or would you rather me spell it out for you, hmm? The way he leans onto the table close to you is making you nervous.

This boy needs to stop getting so close to your face.

J- I'll take that as a yes. We were talking about you giving me a fraction of your time and coming to this music festival with me

R- Music festival?

J- Yes, I've heard great things about the band that's playing tonight and i take you as a music lover so you'll like it there.

And as a bonus you get to spend your evening with me

R- Hmm can you make my evening worthwhile tho?

Stupid girl don't get flirty with him what if strikes bac-

J- If you allow me I can

R- ….okay sure we can go

J- Okay, it's a date then!

R- IT ISS???

J- I don't know if you sound happy excited or just shocked, but I think I've made it pretty clear that I'm interested in you, so would it be okay if this is a date?

R- mmm okay

J- See you, rose.

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

one day I'll be better at tumblr formatting but it's not today😔

for loml @un-love

[voluptuarian]

so since June I've been interning in a very cool history research lab project (paid, I might add) focused on black and indigenous history in Ohio. We spent a month learning to do real research (which I knew Nothing about, and that was my prime motivation for applying for this thing) including trips to museums, archives, meeting with descendants of groups/settlements we were studying and then doing a variety of research depending on where we focusing that week. Very cool!

Then in July we've each picked an area to continue researching on our own for. I'm working on studying a couple different mixed race settlements, including 2 Wyandot settlements, one set up before Removal, and the other after. The latter is Quindaro, Kansas, which is a ghost town now but like. This fucking town.

I want a Deadwood-style show about this place. I am not above attempting to write a full on book about it despite being an amateur in hopes of getting a Deadwood-style show about it.

It's a few years pre-Civil War, Kansas territory has been opened for settlement, and pro-slavery and anti-slavery factions are desperate to flip the state for their cause. There are already a couple pro-slavery settlements in place (particularly Wyandot) and the opposition is trying to get a foothold in as well.

Meanwhile the Wyandot tribe was getting pushed out of Ohio and forced into Kansas and even though they were promised treaty land, end up having to buy it themselves.

(also tumblr spell check doesn't recognize "Wyandot," and I'm putting that down as a microaggression. Anyway.) This guy, Abelard Guthrie, who's an attorney, and abolitionist, and is married to a Wyandot woman, manages to convince the Wyandot and some backing companies to establish an anti-slavery town on reservation land. They set up the town as a company, with the majority of the land under ownership of a group of individuals (most Wyandot) with Abelard as vp. They name it Quindaro, for his wife's Wyandot name.

Now Abelard and his wife Nancy's story is interesting enough-- supposedly her dad hated Abelard and hoped the relocation would end the relationship; Abelard wouldn't be put off and followed them to buttfuck Kansas anyway; Nancy's dad even tried to press charges claiming Abelard had taken shots at him (no idea yet how that went!)

But the town itself has so much going on! It was a racially mixed community, with the black population growing exponentially once the war broke out. The Wyandot originally owned most of the land and ran a bunch of local businesses, including the hotel (current Kansas Wyandot Chief Judith is actually descended from that guy!) It was predominantly a passionately anti-slavery population (and in competition with its pro-slavery neighbors as a result) meanwhile the president of the town company, Joel Walker, was not only from a prominent Wyandot family but also strongly pro-slavery and may have even owned slaves. Like I need to know what everyday business was like between these people.

They had a local newspaper published by this guy, Morgan, who had his hands in dozens of pies and ended up a Methodist minister; initially it also has a woman assistant editor, Clarina Nichols, who's a woman's right activist and an abolitionist, and for whom this is far from her first or last rodeo. They also had a fucking cannon they nicknamed Lazarus that they had to smuggle in to avoid it getting stolen by their rivals in Wyandot, which eventually got donated to the Union once war broke out. Eventually the pro-temperance faction in town was able to get prohibition passed, and groups went around busting whiskey casks, while for months after people were getting in trouble for having their stash discovered. The town was also seemingly heavily involved in the underground railroad-- to the point that pro-slavery hooligans from Missouri rammed and sank the town's ferry, convinced it was being used to transport escaped slaves. William Tecumseh Sherman lived there for awhile and might have practiced law there for a bit, and there's a (probably legendary) story that John Brown stayed there for a few days. Outside town there was a tavern that served as a pit-stop for the local stagecoach, originally run by a Wyandot guy (who I have not been able to find anything about) but which (esp once the war starts) is such a hang out for gangs of raiding soldiers that the locals (unsuccessfully) try to burn it down. Also the school that's founded there for free black students outlives the town to become Western University.

Once the town was no longer the only anti-slavery bulwark in Kansas it started to become less prosperous. Other regional issues, like a financial panic and a grasshopper invasion only worsened things. The town company partners started to fall out, and the Wyandot, for whom Abelard has been acting as tribal attorney, fired him. So the town is going belly up and Abelard is trying to sue his business partner for mismanagement-- meanwhile at some point Nancy's sister Margaret moved in with her and Abelard (I knew that already from tracking the family through like every census ever) and in the middle of suing people Abelard reportedly chases down and horsewhips the town company treasurer for having seduced Margaret, who was apparently "feeble-minded"?

The Civil War really devastated Quindaro though, first by causing the majority of the male population to abandon the place and enlist; then when soldiers getting stationed there decided to tear the place apart for firewood and supplies.

However a bunch of free and escaped black families start moving in around this time, and the Wyandot who had chosen to move into Indian Territory get pushed back to Quindaro to avoid the Confederates. So for awhile the population is bolstering and although the town isn't doing financially Great it's not the end yet. Abelard Guthrie, who by this time is obsessed with recouping his losses and is trying to petition the govmt to give his wife reserve lands from her mom's side (Shawnee), becomes legal representative to the new Wyandot group, too! And seems to have basically used that as a way of combining his ambitions with the Wyandot's whenever possible. He dies in fucking Washington DC still trying to get a Shawnee reserve grant under Nancy's name.

(The face of a man I would not be shocked to discover was of "excitable disposition.")

Anyway though, the town decays and recovers in leaps and starts-- a lot of it ends up just completely abandoned, while other parts get enveloped by Kansas City-- I think most of it is in ruins now but since the 80s they've worked on protecting the remains and now there are bunch of historic trails and stuff through the area.

I've barely scraped the surface on this place, and I want to know so much more about the personalities. My next goal in my research is to start tearing through the town newspaper; then it's probably going to be back to census-reading for awhile.

[savedfromsalvation]

“Reverend” J. C. Skinner, Methodist Minister, Spousal Abuser, Sexual Predator, and Attempted Murderer!

This is J. C. Skinner, an ordained, retired Methodist minister. He was also my wife’s stepfather, a spousal abuser, a sexual predator, and an attempted murderer! J. C. was a Navy “frogman”/Seabee during WWII. He later graduated from Texas Christian University. with a degree in “divinity” and I’m pretty sure he thought his initials equated with Jesus Christ! He also made a big deal about me sharing his initials.

About the Abuse: Because of my MIL’s complaints, my wife and her sisters were well-aware of J. C.’s mostly verbal/psychological, but also sometime physical abuse of their mother. His children from his former marriage would have nothing to do with him because of his treatment of their mother, his first wife.

About His Sexual Deviancy Here defined as “non-consensual sexual activity”: I initially became aware of his sexual deviancy on my first trip to my girlfriend’s hometown in another state, to meet her family. On a warm, sultry afternoon, my girlfriend (now wife) and I snuck away from the family gathering to our bedroom in her sister’s apartment to enjoy some intimate time together. About ten minutes later, without a knock, or any warning, J.C. burst into our room, catching us both naked and aroused! We scrambled to cover up and I yelled at him to “Get the fuck outa here!” prompting him to back slowly out, grinning and staring the whole way. Later, my wife told me that her older sister, G, had banned him from her house because he had groped her sexually. J. C. was about 15 years older than my MIL, but very fit, and liked to try to get the younger guys in the family to feel his biceps and “six pack”. He would also show off by doing toe touches but ending with the palm of his hands flat on the floor, without bending his knees! He could do this well into his eighties and early nineties. (I never could!)After my girlfriend and I married, we were on an outing with her mom and J. C. at an old amusement park. I went into the run-down men’s room to urinate. I had just finished and was zipping up when J. C came in and took the urinal beside me. I turned to say hello, and there he stood, grinning, and waving his semi-erect penis at me! J. C. was fluent in Spanish and often led youth “missionary” trips to Latin America. I have often wondered what this sexual deviant did to the missionary kids and the Latin natives on these trips!

About the Attempted Murder: My wife’s older sister, G, was a divorced mom of two grown sons, and a successful professional who owned her own home. Unfortunately, her house was in a flood plain and several years after she bought it, unprecedented massive rainfall resulted in four feet of water inside her house. The family pitched in and helped rescue what we could. Fortunately, she had flood insurance. In planning for the rebuild, out of concern for her aging mom, she included a private suite with bath for her mom in the plan. She also, surprisingly, agreed that J. C. could move in with her Mom! J. C. and my MIL had been living in a Methodist retirement house on a small lake at the western end of the state, with no family nearby. Four of my MIL’s five daughters lived in a city about 130 miles to the southeast, including G, and my wife and I. Eventually, the rebuild was finished, with the MIL suite, a beautiful new kitchen with modern appliances, two other new bathrooms, and all the rest. Mom packed up to move in and told J. C. that she would like it if he came too. He agreed, and soon they were established in their new quarters in G’s house, along with J. C.’s scruffy mutt, making friends with G’s two small dogs.Everything was fine for several months, with J. C. on his best behavior, until his true colors finally burst through. His severe temper erupted at Mom over some trivial, perceived slight. He began raging at his wife and threatening her verbally and physically while chasing her around the house, until G intervened, ordering him out of her home, under threat of calling the police, and said that if he ever came back, she would have him arrested for trespassing!Later that night, a neighbor noticed J. C.’s noisy old pickup truck driving by the house several times over the next several hours. Eventually, around 2:00 or 3:00 am, when all the lights in the neighborhood were long out and J. C. was sure the women were asleep, he stopped by the short driveway, and got out with a large can of gasoline. He proceeded to soak both cars in the carport, with gasoline with special attention to the south wall adjacent G’s bedroom. The headboard of her bed was against this wall, which J. C. well knew. He poured the remaining gasoline on the west wall, adjacent the living room, then lit the fuel, watched it explode into a major conflagration, and drove off with his scruffy mutt.Fortunately, G, a light sleeper, was awakened by strange sounds, got up and discovered the fire before it had spread very far! She was able to get her mom and her two dogs out of the house before the gas tanks on the cars exploded, but not much else. After he left the scene of the crime, J. C. took the Interstate west across the river to the next large town and turned himself into the police. The house, with all its contents, and the cars were a total loss.

The Aftermath: J. C. was held pending an investigation and eventually transferred back across the river and charged with Simple Arson. The Methodist church bailed him out of jail, provided him with a place to stay, a lawyer and “mental evaluations”. While out on bail, J. C. began harassing his wife and his stepdaughters via vaguely threatening and vile letters. In these letters, he claimed that he’d had sexual encounters with all five of his stepdaughters, describing these fantasies in pornographic details. (Unfortunately, I destroyed the letter we received, so I can’t now publish it.)Based on these letters and some verbal threats the family filed for a restraining order to prevent J. C from further contact or communication with his wife and stepdaughters. The judge, ignoring the letters and listening to the Methodist lawyer, disallowed the restraining order, reasoning that at his age (@92) J.C. couldn’t be much of a threat. Shortly after this, with the insurance money from the fire, G bought a new house into which she and Mom moved, thus preventing J. C. from contacting them again, because he didn’t know the address. At the trial, despite the clear evidence of the attempted murder of his stepdaughter, this “Christian” man, with the help of the Methodist church and a lenient judge, was convicted only of Simple Arson. At the sentencing, J. C. was not condemned serve any time in prison. Instead, he was remanded to Home Confinement, with an ankle bracelet, and only allowed out for medical purposes. Under this sentence, he was not even allowed to go to church, LOL. Later, our lawyer explained that J. C. wasn’t sent to prison because of his advanced age. The State didn’t want him in prison to avoid having to pay his medical bills an funerary. So much for State Justice!

An Additional Note: I wanted to publish this information years ago, shortly after the events unfolded, but was unable to find a photo of J. C. which I thought was critical for this exposé, but recently, while rummaging through some old files, I found the accompanying picture from an invitation for a celebration of J. C’s ninetieth birthday. This was a little over a year before the events described above. While I am fairly sure that J. C. is now dead, I have been unable to find any obituary or other evidence of the fact, but regardless, I thought it important to post the details of his crime! J. C Lazaris

[clatterbane]

Reminded again of how unused to a bunch of Christian holidays popping up, even in a mostly very secularized form these days.

That's coming from what limited exposure I did get growing up being to the less objectionable side of decidedly low church Protestantism. Half my family's nominally Methodist (after major missionizing efforts in our region, back I'm the day), and that's about as fancy as it gets. They still kinda-sorta have Lent, and put on pancake suppers every year. A lot of the rest of it? Not so much.

The Anglicans did split off early enough that there's still more of that sort of thing on a cultural level in the UK. But, then I got to Sweden. These extremely secularized culturally ingrained Lutherans really are not fucking around with the number and variety of religious holdover public holidays. Hell, they've got Christ the Aviator! (As Mr. C anglicizes it.)

I am admitting to some pretty serious ignorance here, but I don't know when most of these "not Christmas or Easter" days happen until I see them on a calendar, or what exactly the background is behind most of them. They are often good excuses to get off work--and even failing that, to eat particular pastries and such. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also can't help but think of one occasion when my mom was doing a crossword, and resorted to asking my dad for help with one clue about some religious holiday that might fit into the space. "Why are you asking me? I was raised Baptist!" (Not that it took, like at all.) But yeah, it really is like that.

And I should maybe pick up a little more background knowledge while I'm chowing down on pastries. And also turn out some lussekatter pretty soon, since I don't know who may be selling decent GF ones. Good thing we do have the stand mixer for dough now.

[mcnagerie]

❤️ ~Jinx, Sisco, Vaggie, and Clark

☠ ― 𝑀𝑖𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑒𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑆𝑦𝑚𝑏𝑜𝑙 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠.

❤️ - How did your muse come to realize their romantic and sexual orientations? Was it difficult to accept? Are they proud of who they are?

For both Jinx and Silco, sexuality wasn't much of a concern at all. I don't think homophobia is really a thing on Runeterra - at least, it doesn't seem to be in Piltover and Zaun. Classism, absolutely, but there hasn't been an inkling of sexuality-based oppression that I've seen, so I don't think they had many issues accepting it.

Vaggie experimented with girls as a teen, but it wasn't until she was in college when she finally accepted that she was queer. Growing up in a hostile environment in a majority Catholic community - even if her family was accepting - fucked her up for a while. Now, though, she's very proud of who she is.

Clark grew up Methodist in a small Kansas town, so...it took him a while to get it. While his adopted parents were always accepting of their son, regardless of what he'd turn out to be, there was definitely a sizable population of Smallville that wouldn't be, so it wasn't until he moved to Metropolis that he really came to grips with the fact that gender didn't really matter to him, when it came to love. He's less "proud" of it and more...neutral, at the moment. He's still working through it.

[briamichellewrites]

77

Matthew wanted her to eat something, so he brought her to Café Habana, a Cuban Mexican café and bar. He was from Texas, so he loved bars and grilles. She was the same in that she loved meat! Two of her friends were vegan, so they teased each other. Why were they vegan? Religious reasons. They were both Jewish, so it was easier for them to not eat meat or animal products. What about her? She thought she was raised Christian, though she couldn’t remember what denomination she was.

He was Methodist. She had an idea of what that was. It was part of the Protestant movement where they followed a guy named, John Wesley. It started in 1730. Since they didn’t want to start a conversation about religion, they instead talked about other things. Her animals. What were their names? Woody, Anya, Buddy, and Missy. She got Woody in 1998.

She wanted to adopt more animals eventually and take care of them. What kind of animals? Any. Horses, cats, dogs, rabbits, fish, and birds. Maybe some critters like mice, hamsters, and gerbils. That’s why she had her barn. She wanted to eventually get a horse or two but she knew nothing about taking care of them. He would like to see that. Would she want to have children? Maybe when she was older. She wasn’t in a good place to have children because of her mental health.

She had to be selfish first. That was a very good decision. She shouldn’t have children if she didn’t want to. Her friends wanted children, so she would be the Cool Aunt Bria. She would get them hyped up on sugar and then send them home. He laughed.

Hey, I’m at Café Habana with Matthew McConaughey. I have no idea if I spelled that right. I’ll let you know when I’m home. – Bria

Thank you. – Mike

Matthew noticed how her mood had changed since he came over. Maybe she did better when she wasn’t alone. He knew people like that. When they were left alone, the voices in their heads got too loud. It caused them to medicate with drugs or alcohol. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and hold her. Fuck mental illness. It made people feel like they were nothing. It beat them down.

As she enjoyed her marinated skirt steak, they continued talking about whatever they could think of. He paid the bill because he wanted to treat her. Thank you. When they got back to her house, he hugged her. If she needed anything, he wanted her to call him. She promised to do that. He made sure she got inside before getting into his car and driving home. If she wasn’t dating Bradley, he would ask her out for a proper date. But he respected him too much to do that to him.

“Hey, Mikey. I’m home now.”

It was almost eight in the evening. Was it too late to come over? No, she would be getting ready for bed, though. He would bring his pajamas and toiletries then. Chester had the dogs, so he didn’t have to worry about that. He permitted him to go because she needed him. Thank you. They shared a quick kiss before he went to pack a small bag of his pajamas, a change of clothing, and toiletries.

When he arrived, he let himself in before locking the door behind him. The dogs were there waiting to see who their guest was. Hi, human! They got excited and wagged their tails happily. Where’s Bria? Bark! Missy had him follow them. They went upstairs where he had a flashback to when he found her unconscious. His heart raced because he didn’t want history repeating itself. Thankfully, she was just in her bathroom brushing her teeth. He sighed softly in relief.

Once she cleaned her mouth, he hugged her tightly. Did she take her medications? Yes, she just did that. Good. He kissed her forehead before getting dressed. She went into her bedroom to give him privacy. When he was ready for bed, he came over to her. She was sitting on her bed. How was dinner with Matthew? It was very nice. He treated her. Where did they go?

“Café Habana. It’s Cuban-Mexican food. I’ve never been there before but it’s good food. He’s Texan, so he loves meat.”

He laughed. “Who said that?”

“He did. He’s a cool guy.”

“You have a lot of people who love you. We will never give up on you.”

She nodded, as tears were going down her face. What’s wrong? She was just going through her grief again. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held her. She was going through so much that he couldn’t even begin to imagine. The following day, she had another appointment with her therapist. Emma would likely join them. Since he had rehearsals, Linsey would be taking her.

Mike, how���s Bria? He sighed. She was holding on by a thread. Emma was confused about everything and she didn’t understand what was going on. Bria’s emotions were all over the place. She was trying so hard just to make it through the day. Was he going to hospitalize her? No, not until her therapist thought it was necessary. She had to be considered a danger to herself before she could be admitted. He hadn’t seen that yet. They nodded.

They had so much compassion for her. She was going through grief while fighting against her mind. There wasn’t a timeline for grief. For some people, it took a year but for others, it took longer. She was doing everything she was supposed to by taking her medications and going through therapy.

They let her express her emotions. She cried on and off. During her therapy session, she asked Linsey to join them. Was that okay? Yes, she welcomed her in. Who was she talking to? Bria. Emma came out for a while the previous day. They talked about her state of mind when it happened and what she had said. She freaked out her new friend, Matthew and she felt bad about that.

“I didn’t know she would come out. He understood after I explained my disorder to him.”

“Alters can come out when you least expect them to. Good for you on educating him. How are you doing since I last saw you?”

Linsey listened with sadness as she talked about her grief. She was crying on and off. Was her boyfriend helping her? Yes, though he left to work on a new movie. She felt alone because he wasn’t there. But she couldn’t force him to give up his career for her. It wouldn’t be fair. As they continued talking, Emma came out because she wanted to talk. She had been left home alone again.

Was that why she was upset? Tears. She didn’t know because everything was confusing. What was confusing? Why her mother died. She knew that she was sick, but she wanted her back because Bria was happy.

That’s what she wanted. She was happy for a while when her friend was over, but then she was sad again when she came home. Then her other friend came over and she was still sad. Linsey asked if she could hug her. She nodded. The hug felt wonderful. She was truly just trying to understand. But she was a child in an adult’s body. There were things she was forced to experience and that confused her. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t Bria’s fault, either. She nodded again.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon