#(YOU WERE NOT OWED THIS)

[valtsv]

obviously people steal things from other people it's one of the oldest tricks in the book but it still always surprises me to learn that people plagiarise because my introduction to the concept was basically being told that if i ever plagiarised anything i would be executed by firing squad and my head would be removed and displayed on a spike outside the walls of the hallowed academic institution i was attending as a warning to others

[vitreouspositive]

THE FISTBUMP STILL LIVES!!! but through... exchanging blows...

[starsaparilla]

the amount of cigarette butts you can find at the courier’s grave in goodsprings cemetery is so fucking funny do you think they all belonged to benny. do you think he was standing there like this while the khans dug it

[yrsonpurpose]

"the handsomest-bodied man in all of England."

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 14

Or: a secret Admirer AU

TW: homophic language used due to internalized homophobia

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13

Steve doesn’t know what’s worse, not being able to see the expression on Eddie’s face, or the moment he turns around and he can see it. He looks like Steve just shot his dog. But, wouldn’t Chrissy be the dog in that metaphor? Steve drops it before Robin can somehow sense his train of thought and burst into the room with the sole purpose of punching him.

“So, what?” Eddie asks, voice sharp and angry. “This was all just some joke? Pick on the freak? Make him think a pretty girl actually likes him?”

Any sadness he’d been feeling is wiped off his face now, masked over with a tired sort of rage. It’s tempting to go along with Eddie’s assumptions. Yes, it was all just a joke. Yes, they’d all been laughing behind his back for weeks on end. After all, Eddie doesn’t look hurt, he looks pissed.

But, it’s too late. Steve had already seen the anguish in Eddie’s eyes before he’d banked it.

“No,” Steve murmurs, only noticing that Eddie’s mid-tirade when he stops talking. His head’s buzzing too loud to hear much else. “It wasn’t a joke.”

Eddie scoffs, waiting in pointed silence until Steve raises his head and meets his eyes. “Then how do you explain all this?” He gyrates his hand around the room, encompassing all four of their bodies with jerky movements. “Huh, Harrington?”

Steve swallows. He hopes it’s not as audible to everyone else as it is in his own ears, but by the way Eddie’s gaze snaps down to it before pulling back up to meet his eyes again, that hope is futile.

“I just—” Steve starts, forcing himself to keep looking at Eddie, even as his eyes flay him open. “It wasn’t supposed to get this complicated.”

“What does that mean?” Eddie asks, gritting out every word, body leaning toward Steve like he wants to reach across the distance between them and strangle him.

“I just like you, okay?” Steve snaps. Eddie jerks back like he’d just taken a blow. “I liked you, and I thought this would be a good way to, I don’t know, work through it?”

“You like me?” Eddie asks, almost laughing, just like that day in the cafeteria when he was singling out the jocks, just like he always does when something’s not funny but he’s pretending it is.

It hurts anyway.

“I’m sorry,” Steve mutters, staring down at his own lap, unable to look at anyone in the room. “I didn’t mean to make it your problem.”

“Didn’t mean to—” Eddie snaps, and Steve sees an abrupt enough movement that Steve’s afraid Eddie’s going to hit him. Steve jerks back into the couch, heartbeat rabbiting in his chest, but all Eddie’s done is stand, hands clenched, mouth snarling. “How the hell is tricking me into thinking Chrissy Cunningham liked me not making it my problem?”

“Eddie—“ Jeff cuts in, tone a warning, but Eddie doesn’t even seem to notice.

“You really think that’s ‘not making it my problem?’” Eddie asks, throwing finger quotations around it mockingly as he glares down at Steve. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Steve feels small, wishes he was smaller—he wants to sink into the cracks of the Munson’s ratty couch and never be seen again. This moment is too much for him.

He’s known ever since that moment in the cafeteria when Eddie’d pressed his lips to Chrissy’s hand that they’d end up here. He knew, but he’d kept writing the letters, kept Chrissy embroiled into his mess. Chrissy who’s standing silent and shocked behind Eddie, hand pressed to her mouth as Steve’s mess implodes around him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve replies, voice small. He’s not sure if he’s talking to Eddie, or Chrissy, or hell, even Jeff. He just knows that he really, truly is sorry.

“You’re sorry?” Eddie demands, and he’s pacing now, hands fisted into his own hair. “You’re sorry for what? For derailing my life? For making me think someone might actually like me? For what?”

Steve doesn’t say anything as he watches Eddie’s movements become more frenetic. He’s pulling his hair hard now, and all Steve wants to do is reach out and grab Eddie’s hands, make him stop hurting himself. But, it’s not his place, so he clenches his hands into fists atop his own thighs and looks up at the boy he likes unraveling at the seams. Because of him.

“The first time a girl actually likes me and it’s you.” It lands like venom, leaching through all the sinew and bone of Steve’s body and turning his beating heart into a pulpy mess. “What, you thought just because everyone calls me a freak that I’d be a quee—”

“Eddie!” It’s Chrissy and Jeff, both shouting out at the same time, clearly trying to get Eddie to stop talking before he says something irreversible.

It’s too late: Steve’s already heard him.

He doesn’t know what his own face is doing, but when Eddie finally looks at him, his face goes white, then turns sort of green like he’s going to be sick. When he takes a halting step forward, Steve can’t help the way he presses further into the couch, hands shaking where they’re still clenching in his lap.

He wants to scream, or cry, or die so he doesn’t have to do this anymore. But, Eddie’s right, this is all his fault, so the least he can do is offer up an explanation.

“It’s not Chrissy’s fault,” Steve says, looking down at his own shaking hands, willing them to lie still. “Or Jeff’s. I dragged them into this, so don’t be mad at them, okay?”

“Steve—” Chrissy says, voice choking with emotion.

“I was afraid.” Steve talks right over her, doesn’t even look her way. He can’t, or he’ll break. “But, that’s no excuse for making you have to deal with my bullshit.”

“Steve,” Chrissy tries again.

“I’m sorry.” Steve finally looks up from his lap, meeting Eddie’s fathomless eyes. “I’ll leave you alone now.”

Steve gets up on shaky legs and walks to the trailer’s front door, giving Eddie a wide berth. No one says anything as he makes his way through the small living room, or when he opens the door and steps through.

It’s only as the door’s shutting closed behind him that he hears Eddie say, “Shit Harrington, wait.”

Steve doesn’t. He walks down the Munson’s drive and straight out of the trailer park.

No one follows him.

***

The silence hangs like a noose in the trailer after the click of the door closing quietly behind Harrington’s drooping frame. Eddie stares into nothing, entirely blank.

“That was cruel.” It’s Chrissy who says it. Chrissy, who pretended to like him, who led him on, who…was just trying to protect her friend.

“Not any crueler than he was to me,” Eddie mutters, still staring at the closed door feeling inexplicably like he should run after him.

Instead, he turns his back on the door and tries to forget the slope of Harrington’s shoulders as he’d walked out on him.

His brain’s full of fog, emotions swirling around too quickly for him to catch any of them. He can’t make sense of any of this. Not Chrissy who pretended to like him or Steve Harrington, who actually did, not—

“You—” Eddie starts, eyes focusing as something else takes over his brain as he sets his sights on Jeff. “You knew?”

Jeff grimaces, but straightens his spine and tilts his chin up like Eddie’s the enemy now. “Yeah,” he says, all flippant, as if Eddie’s world isn’t shattering around his feet. “I knew.”

Eddie laughs, can’t help it with the way anger’s pooling in his gut. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“It was Steve’s secret to te—”

“Screw Steve!” Eddie shouts, suddenly enough that Chrissy takes a startled step back. “You’re supposed to be my friend.”

Jeff scoffs, stepping in front of Chrissy. “Your friend?” he demands with an incredulous laugh that makes Eddie want to strangle him. “You didn’t even tell me about the letters in the first fucking place!”

He stomps forward, coming at Eddie like he’s going to do—something, Eddie will never know what because Chrissy wraps her arm around his waist and pulls him back with a chiding, worried, “Jeff.”

Eddie stares at the way her fingers curl proprietarily into the fabric of his t-shirt, the way he steadies under her touch and takes a step back, the way he stands in the cradle of her hold like it’s his birthright.

“Hold—hold on,” Eddie says, holding his hand out like that’ll stop the dots from connecting in his own mind. “Are you two—”

He doesn’t finish the thought, can’t put words to what he’s accusing them of, not right now. But, as he flails his fingers between them, they both look at the floor, in goddamn sync, even with their own guilt. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

Anger’s always been Eddie’s worst enemy; he’s pretty sure it’s an inherited trait from his pa, the way rage makes his blood boil, makes him take things too far, makes him react like verbal words are a physical threat. Just like his pa, no matter how much he doesn’t want to be.

“So, you what?” he asks, whole body shaking with the force of his anger. “Decided to lead me on while fucking my best friend?”

He laughs, sharp and mean when Chrissy jerks like he slapped her. He clenches his fist against the desire to do just that.

“You don’t get to talk to her like that,” Jeff replies quietly, like that’ll make him the reasonable one.

“Fuck o—“

“You don’t own her,” Jeff interrupts him, Eddie screams in his throat, wild with the fire burning through him.

Jeff sighs, low and disappointed, just like Uncle Wayne does if Hop picks Eddie up for some trumped-up charges, or he fails another pop quiz, or he brings in more money he can’t explain to his Uncle. 

The thought of Wayne is what does him in. Even in absentia, that old man brings him back to himself. Eddie shudders, takes a step back and stares at the carpet beneath his toes, trying to bank his anger back beneath his ribs where it can’t hurt anyone else.

“I’m sorry we hurt you,” Jeff continues, voice soft, soft soft. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what was going on. But Eddie?”

It takes a long moment for Eddie to drag gaze away from his own feet and up to Jeff’s face. Jeff waits, silent, until Eddie meets his eyes.

“You need to figure your own shit out, too,” he says gently. “Because if you don’t? You’re going to hurt everyone around you, not just Steve.”

Eddie looks back at the door Harrington—Steve—had walked through, feelings twisting around on themselves until they’re choking him.

“Harrington,” Eddie starts, throat catching on the consonants of his name like it’d been years since he last spoke. “Did he really—?”

He can’t finish this thought either, hopes Jeff or Chrissy will pluck it from his mind and answer it for him.

“Like you?” Jeff asks, waiting for Eddie to nod his assent before answering. “Yeah, man. He does.”

The present tense is what does him in. Does. Steve Harrington, king of the jocks, liar, boy, likes him. Enough to write letters to him. He doesn’t know what to do with this, where to put it in the reality of his life.

“Oh.”

“You can’t tell anyone, Eddie,” Chrissy says, taking a step around Jeff to look up at Eddie with pleading eyes. “They’ll kill him.”

It’s only then, staring at the terror on Chrissy’s face, that the magnitude of the secret he’s just learned sinks in. Harrington, lady-killer, probable prom king, jock extraordinaire, is queer.

The vindictive part of Eddie he tries to keep caged wants to sling this around— Harrington’s just comeuppance for every time he’s made the rest of them feel less than, feel like a freak. But, even with his anger barely banked, Eddie knows the punishment wouldn’t fit the crime.

Harrington had, what? Laughed snidely behind Hagan after standing by while he’d seen a nerd get his books knocked out of his hands? Had been born with a perfect face and perfect hair in a castle of a house, so he’d been idolized for it.

Telling wouldn’t take that all away—it’d leave Harrington dead.

Even Hagan doesn’t deserve that.

So, all Eddie says is, “I won’t,” quietly, hoping she believes him.

She sighs, slumping into Jeff, trusting him to hold her up. Eddie doesn’t want to see it anymore; he can’t be in the same room as those two and not let the fire in his blood bleed through to his words.

He stands, stiff, unsure, and asks, “can you guys just go?”

“Eddie—“

“Jeff, please,” Eddie asks, voice breaking on the last word.

“Okay.”

Jeff ushers Chrissy out of his trailer and, just before the door shuts behind him, Eddie calls out, “Jeff?”

“Yeah, buddy?” Jeff calls back, not turning back around, not closing the door.

“I’ll call you,” he says, hoping it’s loud enough for his friend to hear. “Okay?”

Jeff doesn’t point out the lack of time frame or the way Eddie’s voice shakes. He’s good like that, always has been, no matter how mad they get at each other. “You call, and I’ll pick up.”

Without another word, Jeff lets the door close. Eddie stands there stationary until he hears the sound of a car starting, kicking up gravel all the way out of the trailer park. Only then, does he collapse onto the couch and bury his head in his hands.

It’s a mistake—the pressure of his hand making pain bloom hard and fast on the bruise on his eyes. Eddie groans, tired, in pain, and completely done. He wants Uncle Wayne to brush his hair out of his face, wants Jeff to sit at his side, or Gareth to light a joint for him, or Chrissy to bump their shoulders together. 

He wants—

The bag of frozen peas Harrington had handed him have gone mushy and warm.

The trailer’s quiet, and Eddie’s all alone.

PART 15

[floq]

hello gray ghost nation 🫡

here’s an entry for @trashys_here’s (on instagram) 1 year DTIYS because I love these two and I wanted an excuse to draw them

[emborami]

Hi so in case anyone was dying to know, this is what i think some of the cast of the terror would look like as animals :3 notes under cut

From left to right:

Crozier- Irish Terrier

Silna- Polar Bear

Goodsir- ryeland sheep (known for tasty mutton ;3)

Hickey- red fox

Franklin- old english game rooster

Fitzjames- red deer

I had fun coming up with them :) and I kinda wanna doodle some screencaps but with like a lil short sheep goodsir and his bestie the giant polar bear lady silence whom he thinks would love England. Or like hickey on his bullshit but with more flair bc he would have a fox body and tail to really fuck up that line of action

Anyways heres some closeups and sketches

[dollopole]

Let’s not all forget that the only time Merlin even dares to hit Arthur back, we don’t know what happens next.

But we can guess.

[surreal-duck]

es rarepair week 2024 day 4 | angst/domestic

distance and distractions (continuation of this!)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Detectives at the Disco (Elysium)

[furylad]

how is the ofmd fandom coping with the fact that Izzy Enjoyers were right about literally everything and the first three eps are just The Izzy Hands Show? I've peeked at Izzy hate blogs and have been amused that it seems like they're just pretending none of those scenes happened and are just latching onto the one Stede/Ed scene while ignoring. literally everything we just saw

[marstonsboy]

some more little details i enjoy: we know lines change for certain stranger missions based on whether you started them with john and finished them with jack, or even if you started them w jack first when the dialogue was specifically tailored for john (see: jenny’s faith, “have i seen you before?” where jenny would usually point out that she and john were both on the train to blackwater, but to jack she says “no, i don’t think so”), but there’s some smaller lines that change for jack too, completely unrelated to john.

the best example i can remember is in “let no man put asunder,” aka the mission with alma horlick; her fiancé died about 20 years prior and she asks the pc to go looking for him so they can have their wedding. john and jack share a lot of the same animations, so both pull away from her when she tries to grab their arm— and i feel like that’s in character for both, since we see signs of jack not being very fond of physical affection in the rdr2 epilogue— but the line where they agree to help is different.

john is very much not interested in helping her, and will only begrudgingly accept the quest. jack will sound a bit more sympathetic and say he’ll see what he can do. i believe this applies to a few other stranger missions too, since john is understandably wanting to get back to his family, so he usually does not care about anything that distracts from that and repeatedly expresses disdain with getting dragged into everyone else’s problems. jack, however, has nothing left to live for (ow), and is much more inclined to run around assisting strangers. his line deliveries, while the lines are usually the same ones john has, are a bit more empathetic because he’s willing to help them out.

i leave most, if not all of the stranger missions for jack for this reason. i feel it gives him more character development, and also gives him some kind of purpose after having lost every reason he had to live.

[bitchapalooza]

(pre time skip) Zoro goes temporarily blind due to a devil fruit and he's chill about it—until they take the seeing eye cane Franky made away because he keeps whacking people with it. It's not even that he's using it as a sword (because Chopper confiscated them for his and everyone's safety, figured he'd resort to using the cane), he's literally just hitting other people (Sanji) with it and smiling all smugly about it, it's all on purpose.

[sunb0ts]

something that always gets me about klavier is that he is so clearly just like. friendly. he cares so much and he cares too much. he's one to tease simultaneously but he so clearly just like. loves and loves and loves, even when it puts him in harm's way, he likes people and he likes being around people enough to be desperate for it and for friendship like. ough

[lizzybeeee]

Inquisitor: "Is there any way Solas can be reasoned with?"

Me after Solas has killed Varric, used blood magic on me, trapped me in the fade, created the blight, made the titans tranquil/fucked with the dwarves, started the chain of events that led to Southern Thedas being destroyed, and stealing all my good gear from Inquisition:

[kings-highway]

Haikyuu Flash Fiction: "STZ - 7 Minutes in Heaven" (Ushiten)

---

Semi thought it would be a funny prank. After all, Tendou's been harbouring this crush on Ushijima for so long it was getting ridiculous. Where's the harm in pulling on his leg a bit? So when the team is at a party and everyone is laughing and it's ten minutes to midnight, they suggest a game of truth or dare - and oh, it would have been easy to just dare oblivious Ushijima to kiss the poor lovelorn idiot but Semi had other ideas. "Seven minutes in Heaven," he says. "With.. Tendou."

The look Tendou gives him is worth a million bad karma points. Priceless even!

"What is that?" Ushijima would ask, because he has never heard of this odd game. Semi, gladly explains the rules to an increasingly flustered Tendou.

"You have to make-out in a closet for seven minutes."

Ushijima just shrugs and gets up, and Semi is quite happy to follow them to the closet, intending to use something to tie the handles and lock them in.

The closet door shuts.

Now, what you might have already begun to expect to happen did not actually occur to Semi - Or Tendou - upon shutting that closet door.

1. Ushijima Wakatoshi does not break game rules (Tendou will try to explain most people don't actually do any kissing.)

2. Ushijima Wakatoshi wins games.

Semi is hopeful that what he's done is fluster and embarass Tendou enough to take him down a peg. What he gets, instead, when that closet door opens again, is Ushijima wandering out like nothing at all has happened, followed by a Tendou that could barely walk, flushed more red than he'd thought human skin could be, and breathing so hard he may as well have run a marathon.

Semi finds neat holes cut into all his clothes about 6 days later.