#-since i started writing

[bogos-bint3d]

Considering Yellow just came out, I'm curious how you interpret Justice!

YEAH IM FINALLY GONNA ANSWER THIS ASK FROM ALMOST TWO MONTHS AGO BECAUSE IM FEELING GOOD

Ok so I don't really know how to start so to get things going I'll begin with some pictures of them

I have to say, they give me SO many feelings. I originally started work on them long before I even knew what undertale yellow was. My first attempts at drawing them (which you can see in the top left that were used for reference) were done back in June, but I was planning things for them several months before.

I remember them actually being pretty much the very first fallen human who I felt motivated to make something with, because I saw a comic of someone's own interpretation of them. I noticed how in that comic, they went to Mount Ebott intentionally, for the other humans or something, and that was sort of the beginning of my inspiration, but I felt like I could do more with it. So, starting off with that I kinda built on it. I wanted to do something different from what I'd seen before, where they wanted to get justice on the monsters FOR hurting the humans. I remember someone saying something along the lines of them thinking justice was a little bitch, which of course was a valid interpretation, and that's what made me sorta go in a different direction.

For me, I saw justice as someone who would've wanted justice for the MONSTERS, from the very start. They were the kind of person who didn't really believe the legend of humans and monsters, but of course knew Mount Ebott was a very dangerous place. And, yknow, believed monsters were just a legend, they loved to think about the fact that if monsters WERE real, they were probably trapped unfairly. Think about Chara for example. Though they were human themself, they still hated humanity, and felt connected to the monsters. They wanted the monsters to be free and to go against the humans. I imagine justice to have been something like that. Not as much hatred for humans as Chara maybe, but still knowing of all the bad that humans had done, and, being an edgy teen, felt genius for the concept that this ""old """"silly"""" legend"" would probably have been biased in favour of the humans. (which they were actually right about. Good for them 👍🏾)

Am I explaining this correctly? I'm not sure if I am lol

So anyways, yes my justice interpretation very much did not want justice on the monsters once they discovered the legend was true, but rather was very much on the side of monsters getting justice on the humans.

Let's see, what else is there... Ah so as I was explaining before, seeing that comic also sparked the idea for me that they went there looking for someone. They'd usually never even get near to Ebott, however, they end up having to. Ok this part is like it's own separate infodump so like take a breath. So this all ties in to one of my other fallen soul interpretations, integrity. I won't get too into them right now because that is like a WHOLE OTHER CONVERSATION, so for now I am going with the BARE ESSENTIALS. Justice went there specifically to go look for integrity, because in my little interpretation thing, they're siblings. I'll show some quick things about them then straight back to Justice I prommy

Their name is Leo (I don't have a name for justice yet I'm so sorry Leo is like the only human I've named so far), and ended up on Ebott after a stupid dare by the rest of their ballet class. So anyways after justice finds Leo is like. No where at all. They have to go on over to Leo's dance class cause that's the last place they'd been and ask around the other kids to find out where their 10 year old sibling was because they'd been FUCKING MISSING FOR LIKE SEVERAL HOURS only to find out the other kids left them on MOUNT FUCKING EBOTT, where multiple other children have all DISAPPEARED upon going there. So now justice gotta go to death mountain to find their lost sibling no big deal

I feel much more nervous about talking about my fallen soul interpretations now than I would've, like, four months ago, simply because the presence of uty has had such a grip on the fandom that people have kind of accepted it as canon. I think it's actually a really stupid and petty thing to mad/sad about, because a lot of effort was out into it, and I'm sure it's very very good, but I just, well I guess we all just whish we were the best, right? I'm scared yellow will completely overshadow any other existing interpretations, and people love it so much, they won't care about my own. I REALLY hate myself for this, and I just want to say I think you should all keep loving yellow! It seems really good! This is just my own dumb fear shining through haha

But anyways, enough of that! I'll explain more about the souls another time because if I keep going on right now I might become physically incomprehensible. There is so much more about justice that I'll dump on you all another time, trust me, I just hope you all like what I've got so far ❤️ thanks :)

[cairafea]

my favourite genre of seventeen is when they're straight up lying

ref:

[fishsinsareacknowledged]

God damnit Nikto would have such heavy breaths. From the way his mask is made, full coverage leaving not even a space to breathe even you can tell from a mile away that he had good healthy lungs. Lungs that could bear being squeezed and suffocated for hours and still get a good exercise in.

Something about the way he breathed when he was just using a cloth to cover his face. Something rough about how his throat is scarred and deformed from how much he screamed and begged.

Something about how he liked to breathe you in. A soft almost shy look in his eyes after he ducked down just to get your scent in his lungs, warm, sweet.

Something about how he slowed and quieted his breaths down when you sleep with him. Making sure he doesn't move too much or wake you up with his breaths because it would kill him mentally.

Nikto who accidentally wakes you up because he's having a panic attack about his own breathing. Far too controlled to be comfortable for him to breathe, too soft, too little breaths against the side of your head.

"Nikto are you-"

"We are fine little star-", and he speaks too softly it turns into a wheeze. He wasn't made for whispers.

"Nikto baby, you can breathe, I'm not gonna be-"

"We- we woke you up, forgive us just-"

And he heaves when you pull his head to his chest. Suffocating him in that familiar way his mask normally does, it turned him soft. Weak.

He doesn't speak for a while, just breathing so very heavily against your chest. Your scent dizzying and yet so damn calming. The next time you check on him, he's asleep. They'll talk in the morning.

[shepscapades]

Posted to Twitter for the first time in 5 years /silly DSFGNFGB So here’s my atttempt at a more finished piece, inspired by Doc’s newest episode :D

Actually recorded a short timelapse for this one too, so that’s below the cut :D

[choccy-milky]

congrats on baby #2!🥰👍 part 2 to this post bc seb is a smug ass bitch when it comes to getting clora pregnant. and ty @rednite-dork for sending me the original pic ages ago LMFAO... i knew as soon as i saw it that i had to redraw it eventually 👼

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Thank you all for an incredible 500 days of love and support. I offer you: answers to questions that no one has asked.

(As always, more can be found in the tags <3)

[erinwantstowrite]

the duality of comments i get gives me whiplash sometimes. cause i'll get a really nice very sweet comment from people, then i'll get needless feedback that is like. if i wanted you to critique my work i would have asked for that. and then i'll get a comment like "you should kill yourself" and i'm just like. if i wasnt an adult and/or wasn't in a good headspace can you imagine the repercussions that would have. if i had gotten these types of comments when i was a teenager i don't think i would be writing right now. people get real brave when they think things are anonymous. anyways you don't know what people are going through and maybe, just maybe, think before you make a mean comment or critique without permission. if you're leaving any other kind of comment then you're already doing 10x better than that and making someone's day

[beingfacetious]

Okay. Yeah, all right, uh... Yeah. Okay. Chefs, listen up. Let's look alive, yeah? I'm gonna plug everybody in, all right? Let's hustle. Let's listen to the sound of my voice and the sound of Richie's. We're gonna do this, yeah?

[feroluce]

Watched Rappa's Keeping Up With Star Rail this morning while 2.6 updated, and. How am I supposed to go about my day. How am I supposed to deal with this.

BOOTHILL IS SO SWEET ABOUT HER, LOOK AT THE WAY HE CHEERS HER ON

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

just a little something for the darling @yournowheregirl to wake up to! it sounds kinda dumb and insignificant, but i always appreciate your tags in the fun tag games that come across your dash and for always being one of the first that ask something from those ‘ask me’ posts i reblog! it makes me feel appreciated and i am super grateful every time 🥰🫶🥹

There was meant to be two beds.

Steve specifically got a double king room for the goblins, and another room with two queens for him and Eddie.

So of course as soon as they got into Milwaukee the night before the D&D themed nerd fest, the (actually very nice) woman at the front desk says: “We had to swap around the rooms, but the two will still sleep all you boys, don’t worry!”

Whatever. That’s fine, right? They’ll all have a spot to sleep the next two nights they’re here for the kids’ (and Eddie’s) dragon game convention.

He gets back to their rented minivan and passes the key cards to Eddie in the passenger seat.

The van was just the first point of contention between him and the kids’ beloved Dragon Meister, followed closely by…everything else.

The first thing Eddie said when Steve showed up in the rented van was “King Steve is coming along on our journey?”, to which Steve could only respond with “This ‘super cool’ guy you assholes have been going on about this whole time is Eddie “The Freak” Munson? Really?”

Following closely behind are: the tapes and tapes of loud garbled ‘music’ Eddie insists on playing, his absolutely tragic way of unwrapping Steve’s burgers for him when they stop for lunch, the wariness Steve has in the first place about this being the guy Dustin wouldn’t stop talking so highly about…this nerdy, obnoxious, third-time senior…great.

“204 is the Hellions’ room, 207 is us.”

Eddie bends an arm backwards into the feral beast enclosure the second two rows have become over the last six hours and Steve’s surprised he still has his hand when it returns to the front.

Steve gets the van parked in the hotel’s garage, and they head up to their rooms.

“Alright, assholes,” he says to the somehow still rambunctious masses, “This is you guys, Make sure you’re up by eight so we—“

“Yeah Steve, we got it,” Dustin scoffs, “As if we’d risk being late to this.”

Steve rolls his eyes with a “Fine, goodnight.” and shuffles the few steps across the hall to his and Eddie’s door, leaving the troops to file into theirs.

The only thought in his head is of laying down and getting the fuck to sleep. It wasn’t even that late but—

“Oh you’ve got to be shitting me.”

So that’s what brings them here. To their one barely queen sized bed.

“I guess I’m on the floor then, huh?”

“I’m not about to let you sleep on the floor.”

“Oh, the King has chivalry does he?” Eddie rolls his eyes and throws his duffle onto the armchair in the corner.

“As much as you, asshole; I just want you to have the energy to corral the gremlins tomorrow.” Steve scrubs a hand down his face. “Look, we’ll just deal with it tonight and I’ll get another room tomorrow.” he lies. As if he’s got the cash for that.

Eddie looks him over, and seems to come to whatever conclusion he needs to because he says “Fine, but you better not be a blanket hog.”

Eddie’s the worst blanket hog Steve’s ever had the displeasure of knowing.

He thought Robin was bad, but this is something else.

Eddie’s fully a burrito within an hour of laying down. After a hearty, but silent, game of tug of war over the worn duvet.

Steve falls asleep angry and cold, and wakes up on a cloud.

He’s so warm and so entangled in the comforter, he can’t help but snuggle deeper into the pillow he’s clutched onto.

The pillow hums back at him and scoots itself under his chin with a sigh.

Steve squeezes tighter onto the pillow momentarily, but his curiosity of why his pillow’s making noise gets the better of him.

He cracks his eyes open, looking down at the thing in his arms.

It shifts as well, and Eddie Munson blinks up at him with those (holy shit…beautiful, deep, dark) doe eyes of his.

“Hi.” Steve breathes.

Eddie’s eyes flutter shut, and shuffles himself back into Steve’s neck.

Steve chooses to blame the still sleepy bit of him for curving himself back around Eddie.

“How’d you sleep?” Steve whispers into the now-bared hairline under the other man’s bangs.

“Fucking amazing…” Eddie mumbles, snaking an arm over Steve’s waist and settling a hand in the middle of his back. “How ‘bout you, Stevie?”

“Stevie, huh?” Steve chuckles.

It’s only then that Eddie seems to come to his senses, his head shooting up before he scrambles away, falling straight onto his back between the opposite side of the bed and the wall with an “Oof!” and a “Fuck!”

“Oh shit!” Steve shuffles off the bed and helps Eddie back up, ”You alright, Eds?”

“Yeah..yeah, I’m fine..” Steve gets Eddie back on his own two feet and (reluctantly) lets him go once he’s stable.

‘Reluctantly? Why reluctantly? What the hell??’

“Sorry I was all over you, not the greatest thing to wake up to, huh?” Eddie says, huffing a sardonic laugh under his breath.

Steve hums nonchalantly, “It wasn’t all bad, I slept pretty fucking amazing too.”

Eddie hums an acknowledgment, then: “I wouldn’t—“ Eddie starts at the same time Steve says “I should—“

“You go ahead,”

Eddie’s hands come up between them, spinning the rings on his fingers nervously. “I was going to say that…I.. Iwouldn’tmindifyoustayedtonight..too.”

Steve blinks. “Good thing I was going to say that I really should save my money.”

Eddie’s smile is slightly nervous, but there’s a hopeful tinge to it that Steve can only assume means what he thinks it does (hopes it does).

“Leaves me with more to spend on the Gremlins, right?” he shrugs.

Eddie beams. “Glad to know we’re on the same page, Harrington.”

also, if you haven’t heard it recently: Alice, YOU’RE DOING AMAZING SWEETIE 🤩

[ganondoodle]

(OC Lore and design time!)

(it got longer again ... sorry ... idk how to make things short, i just need to talk, but i guess if you can read the written stuff in the pic thats the barest bare bones of what i wrote here)

i was asked what new lore story stuff i had thought about that made me sad which i mentioned a bit ago, and while that is too hard to explain given all the missing context i thought i could at least talk about lore having to do with it :D

so, (Lord) Eadrya is one of my fav OCs (big blue lad, here a rough sketch in humanoid form) they are both one of if not THE most powerful demon alive and the most battle trained;

at the mid point of the story the demon world gets invaded by the celestials (the angel inspired things i talked about in the previous lore post with Xaror) and Shargon, as the king, should be their first and only frontline, but at this point his life is only being sustained by maschinery after being mortally wounded, he cannot fight (he realizes what is going on, rips himself off the maschinery to get at least his youngest child to safety, barely managing it before dying- the guardian, the demons god, takes over his body to attempt to fight against the celestials but cant keep itself alive long enough since its host is already dead) Eadrya takes the role of the frontline fighter (despite being very full of themselves and aggressive they care about their 'job' of protecting their own, also giving them the chance to show off just how strong they are); the fight was going well for them all things considered, but when the guardian activates it drains the power of all elemental lords (which Eadrya is one of, and since they have the most strength it also takes the most from them), so much so that they lose the fight and suffer deadly wounds (the worst being a spear through the chest made of a material that grows hard, root-like formations when in contact with demonic blood like a fungus but worse, also stopping any self healing processes) after the guardian falls apart it creates a huge shockwave of energy that stuns every living thing within a certain distance and possibly more-

Eadrya (in true demon form, so like a blue whale in size at least) was likely taken through an active gateway to the human world in a large tidal wave also created by the guardians fall; they wash up in the harbor of a small secluded village, the head of which is 'lady 13'; although never having seen a demon before and everyone being afraid (largely thinking its a strange hurt animal, only she suspected otherwise), they still gather all villagers to pull out the celestial spear, which is diffcult and brutal given that its already taken root, but the village lacked both knowledge and means to help any other way- doing so damaged their heart which is how they were able to collect samples of all three demonic blood types ('normal' -red like humans-, energy -essentially purely magic- and heartblood -highly concentrated energy only found within the heart of a demon and the only one to contain genetic material) (this is the start of Eadryas character arc, having to deal with the fact that their world is likely destroyed, them failing what they didnt think they could fail, having lost a battle so badly (even if not really their fault) for the first time and not knowing if literally anyone else has survived .. also being now stuck in the human world, which they dont like)

Lady 13 (placeholder name? stands for experiment 13) is a human that was tricked by demon hunters to enroll into a series of experiments trying to create hybrids of demons and humans, which they hoped would be powerful and easily controllable tools for their endeavours, though the two are inherently not compatible, they tried grafting body parts of demons on humans to make them compatible- all experiments failed except for her, more or less, though she never got to see the hybrid she carried and was then told it had died too, they threw her out believing she wouldnt survive much longer either and all such experiments were cancelled due to the high cost of human life, research material (demons are still rare) and upkeep with no successful results Lady 13 survived though (perhaps even via the pirates picking her up?) and she ended up living in said small village far away, hiding her half demonic body, though most know there soemthing 'wrong' with her (her being this tall when it doesnt fit the rest for one), only few know the full extent; she enjoys the life she has now, perhaps on the more poor side but safer and more loved than ever before; she largely lead the efforts to try and help Eadrya when they ended up in the harbor, though there wasnt that much anyone could do it was still enough- they leave immediately after waking up, but return after really having nowhere to go and struggling to deal with everything that has happened; over time (probably years) they start to open up towards the people there (though not .. very much) enough to get rather close with Lady 13 too- she actually falls madly in love but after Eadrya (extremely aro/ace) rejects all her attempts quite clearly she respects their boundaries

However, after hearing news of potential demon sightings Eadrya decides to leave in hopes of not being the last demon left after all; Lady 13 then decides to reveal her secret to them (though hearing and seeing what lengths hunters would go to for their experiments makes them absolutely seething with rage- she insists on not being out for revenge) and asks if they would be willing to donate a small amount of heartblood; shes always wanted to be a mother but is now incompatible with humans too- through things she picked up back at the experiments facillity, hers and her doctors research she is sure that is all that is needed, she dares to ask since she does not know when, if ever, she will meet another demon, much less one she could actually trust enough for this though Eadrya hesitates (why would she want to go through the same thing again that didnt work and threatened her life, if it does work, do they want to be involved with any of this? what if hunters find out it worked after all?) but after her ensuring that they would have no part in it other than giving up a little blood and would not be considered a parent in any way, nor made responsible for anything that might happen to her, but considering it all in the end they agree to it

only for her to reveal shes had a small bottle of it already, along with multiple samples of the other types, which she collected when Eadrya was bleeding out into the harbor not knowing if they will survive, though not wanting to make use of it without their consent either way (they are actuallly rather touched by this)

alot later the main group returns here and it turns out to have worked (though she is unable to walk/bedridden for a long while bc it did alot of damage to her body, which can heal since its demons parts, but only really slowly bc she does not have a full functioning system and no demonic blood of her own -she uses the other samples for the healing process-) though its a little awkward to explain, especially considering that 13.1 took alot after Eadrya xD (their theory as to why it worked so "well" that time is that even though the sample was already taken, them giving their consent for it still made it less likely to be rejected; demons dont need partners to have offspring, and all can do it, they just have to decide to- so them agreeing to it, even though its long been outside their body, still had an effect on the blood sample)

[blindmagdalena]

I know someone's already asked for the voice kink a couple times which I love your writing for those frfr but have you ever considered doing a hand kink prompt for homie? If I'm being real his hands are pretty

18+! 1.4k homelander x reader. finger sucking, vaginal fingering, grinding, dirty talk.

The first time you saw Homelander’s naked hands, the reveal left you feeling scandalized. His fingers are long and lithe, but not spindly. His nails are always clean–one positive thing you can say about those gloves–and nicely manicured into a rounded shape. 

Pronounced veins create sprawling patterns on the backs of them, disappearing into the spaces between his knuckles. His wrists are slender enough to look delicate, but the thrum of power in his touch proves they aren’t.

Suffice to say you’ve been obsessed with them ever since.

“Y’know, it takes real talent to make hand-holding feel perverse,” he says one day, one corner of his mouth arched in a lazy smile.

Days like this are your favorite. You’ve both been awake for hours, but getting out of bed hasn’t crossed your mind once. Not while you’re tucked in against him, his arm around your body, his hand cupped between yours.

His hands have been at the mercy of your reverence for the majority of the morning.

“What’s perverse?” you ask with a laugh, absently sliding your fingertips up and down the space between his fingers, your touch light and slow.

“You are,” he says, smile widening. “Never had my phalanges edged before.”

“I just like your hands, I think they’re beautiful,” you say, pressing your thumb up his palm in slow, firm slides. You move up each finger, feeling tiny knots disperse beneath the pressure like wood crackling in a fire. “And since you insist on hiding them so frequently, I have to take advantage where I can.”

“I do love it when you take advantage of me,” he purrs, his free hand sliding down your hip, gripping the meat of your thigh.

You grin, bringing the tips of his fingers to your lips so that you can kiss each and every one of them, finishing with his thumb.

His gaze drops to watch, fixated on the plushness of your mouth, and how it moves. You wet your lips with a swipe of your tongue that he follows with predator quickness. His rapt attention makes you feel as powerful as he is, all that raw power thrumming in the very hand you hold in yours.

Tentatively, he tugs at your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, eyes never leaving your mouth.

Watching him in turn, you open your mouth and take him into it, teeth scraping over his knuckle. His eyes darken at once, his own lips slightly parted, mirroring you subconsciously.

His thumb, like the rest of his hand, is smooth and without callouses. He tastes clean to a near clinical degree, but there’s a faint salt tang to remind you he’s still human. You trace the veins along the back of his hand before interlacing your fingers with his and squeezing.

With a sly little smile, you bite down just behind his knuckle while pushing your tongue against the pad of his thumb.

Homelander makes a rough noise in the back of his throat, his nails biting dull crescents into your thigh. His throat clicks dryly as he tries and fails to swallow back his hunger.

Pulling off of his thumb with a wet pop, you kiss a trail from his thumb to the divot between it and his index finger, moving leisurely. His skin is growing warmer and warmer against yours, and from where you’re holding his wrist, you feel his pulse quicken.

Particularly when you take his finger into your mouth again, savoring the way it seems to hum against your tongue. 

The feel of him reminds you of the static that would collect on old CRT screens; an invisible force that makes your tongue tingle. Beyond his beauty, he is otherworldly down to the core of his being. Unlike anyone you’ve ever been with.

It’s no wonder you’ve become addicted to him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, enraptured by the sight of you taking him to his last knuckle, your tongue swirling around his finger. 

His hand on your thigh moves and suddenly you’re moving, too. He manhandles you effortlessly onto your opposite side, his finger slipping from your mouth.

He repositions you to put your back to his chest, and with his arm under you, he brings his hand right back to your mouth, coaxing your lips open with his fingers.

Naturally, you greedily swallow down two of them without hesitation.

He groans softly at your ear, kissing the sensitive spot just behind it. Meanwhile his other hand moves down your side, down your belly, slipping into the space between your thighs.

“So warm,” he murmurs, and you’re not sure if he means your mouth or your cunt, his fingers toying with your clit, but you don’t care. You shiver, letting out a quiet moan of your own against his fingers. “So soft.”

You start to match his strokes, drawing back to lick at just the tip of his middle finger the same way he’s teasing your clit.

He catches on quickly, pushing his fingers further back to massage your cunt, only to suddenly pull them away.

You protest with a sharp little nip, but he doesn’t stay gone for long. You hear him suck his own fingers into his mouth–a mental image that by itself makes your pussy throb–and all at once his fingers are back upon you, wet and pushing in.

You moan, pulling his hand to take his fingers deeper into your mouth, tongue pushing between them. The feel of him is absolutely unreal, and everything you enjoy about him on your tongue and your lips is amplified tenfold when he’s sinking into your cunt.

With his fingers buried inside you, he presses you firmly back into him and grinds his cock against the curve of your ass, already hard.

You purposefully arch back into him, hollowing your cheeks sucking on his fingers, bobbing your head in time with his fingers pushing in and out of your pussy.

It feels like heaven to have both of his hands inside you, fucking you, pinning you against his chest where you can feel the tension of his restraint, of his power.

With a rough little gasp you pull off of his two fingers only to take three instead. To your delight, he takes the hint and adds a third between your legs, the aching stretch so good it makes your thighs quiver and clench.

“Fffuck,” he grits out, matching his own pace with how he grinds against your ass, smearing wetness from his leaking tip. 

You can feel how close he is by the faint tremble of his hand, how he’s holding himself back. 

Not to be outdone, he angles his thumb to work your clit, the shock of sensation causing you to bite down on his fingers suddenly.

It makes him moan.

“That’s it, bite down hard, sweetheart. Lemme feel how bad you want it,” he says, the dam officially broken. “You know you can’t hurt me, don’t you? So do it, bite all you want. You like my fingers so much, you’re gonna cum spitroasted on them.”

It works. His words push you over the edge you’d been teetering on, plummeting you down into a surge of pleasure that washes over your entire body, that makes your breath halt and your jaw clench.

While your release is a silent and internal thing, Homelander’s is not.

He growls in your ear, mercilessly fucking you with his fingers through the quakes of your orgasm. He’s murmuring filth and desire and need until he’s choking on the words, gasping his pleasure as he comes against you, a wash of white hot deliciously searing your ass and lower back.

By the end of it you’re both panting, bodies slack against the bed, his hand splayed on the pillow next to your head, his fingers still buried in your quivering cunt.

With what strength you can muster, you slip your hand into his, interlacing your fingers and squeezing. He returns the gesture, stroking your hand with his thumb while he recovers.

“S’mazing…” you slur, tongue and body blissfully loose.

He peppers soft kisses along your neck, nuzzling against you. “Told you it was perverse.”

“You made it sexual.”

“You complaining?”

You don’t respond.

“That’s what I thought,” he says, his smile audible in each word.

Staring at your hands interlaced on the pillow, you smile, too.

They look beautiful together.

“I love you.”

He squeezes your hand. “And I love you.”

[ikeasharksss]

hey im curious

feel free to rb & explain your answer in the tags!

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

"I hate you."

He's expressive around you, despite the mask that hides his face. The look of utter confusion and aching hurt that settles in his beautiful eyes nearly guts you.

"What is going on, love. Please. Talk to me." His voice is so soft it makes you want to crawl into his arms and kiss him until his eyes are happy and soft again.

"I don't ever want to see you again. I hate you. I hate you, Simon."

The words cut deep but he doesn't believe you. No yet. Simon knows you too well. You neet to hit harder. Where it hurts so he'll leave.

So your stomach doesn't have to turn with the knowledge that a sniper rifle is aimed at his head right now.

"I hate you. I only ever was with you to get a look behind your mask. See what you're hiding. And it's hideous. You're just like your father."

"Lovie, you... you can't mean that. Tell me what's going on... I need- " He's taking a desperate step towards you.

"Stop!", you shriek and he falters. "You scare me. I don't want you here. I don't want you. Never did, only pretended because I was scared of what you'd do if I didn't stay."

You never knew that you'd be the one breaking both your hearts. It seems wrong that you can't hear the deafing sound of them collampsing and crumbling to pieces.

The moment it hits him is unmistakable. Simons eyes harden and you see him fight himself. You know the hurt and doubt you just scratches open with your fingernails.

Old wounds that you spent hours stitching up, torn open at your words. And yet you dug your nails as deep as possible. Clawing at his tender and fragile until you turned it jagged and sharp through just one conversation.

You hit the one place that overrides his rationality with emotions. He holds up his hands. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Gentle, always gentle.

His eyes suddenly look ancient, haunted. Like an old house that was left empty for so long that it welcomes any spirits because at least they're company. Simon's eyes are looking through you, unfocused.

"I'll leave now."

You nod, the fear in your eyes not even part of the charade when he turns to leave.

The scream of agony that claws it's way up your throat with unyielding claws dies when you bite your own tongue hard enough to draw blood. Anything to stop yourself from calling out to him. To stop yourself from begging him to come back. From apologizing.

There's a faint click in your hidden earpiece. "That's a good girl, didn't even have to blow his brains out. But we all know I'm very trigger happy. You know what comes next."

[rema-rin]

Y'all know what, I've been progressively amassing a collection of art, doodles and shitposts all surrounding one of our ongoing Dungeons and Dragons campaigns // aka I've had character brainrot for a while// and I think Tumblr might actually be a good site to try and start figuring out how to even just,, start, posting about it in a semi-cohesive manner - it'll be quite self-indulgent. So. I'll be tagging content and art related to this campaign as "CA Campaign" since the server dedicated to it is named "Capitalist Apocalypse"

[shares-a-vest]

Pineapple Breath & Onion Boy (Read on ao3)

wc: 1.2k | Rated: T for Flirtatious Banter/Suggestive Language | cw: Mild reference to Period-Typical Homophobia (if you squint - Eddie is just conscious about being affectionate with Steve in a public space), Food Mention, Inferred Smoking (Eddie is playing with a lighter)

Tags: Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Pizza, Contemplating the Future, Side Clarkson, Pet Names, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Domestic Fluff, Lightest Angst in the first half

Note: Working on my drabble yesterday had me rudely confronting myself with a Drafts. Buuut it gave me the motivation to come back to this one! Yay writing!

-🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕-

Eddie leans back on one of the faded red plastic chairs outside Gino’s Pizzeria and flicks his cigarette lighter.

He then turns it off, then back on again. Then off again… Anything to distract himself from the desperate grumbling in his belly – a feeling that has grown painful now that he can smell pepperoni wafting outside.

The chair gives a warning wobble beneath him, the back legs of the thing holding his weight as he looks up at Steve, who looks all cozy in his cream-coloured corded sweater and maroon jacket. Even if he is standing there with his arms folded and a frown knitting his brows as he looks on down Main Street.

Wayne and Scott had disappeared in that direction a few minutes ago, trekking down the block to fetch their Chinese takeout, while Eddie and Steve waited for their pizzas.

Pizzas plural. Because Eddie refuses to partake in Steve’s new and frankly, disgusting preference for pineapple.

It has been their little quartet’s Friday Night routine for a couple of months now and Eddie thinks he must end up looking the same each and every time: staring up at his boyfriend. Steve looks pretty as a picture as his eyes glisten under the streetlight and his breath puffs out in a feint cloud in the crisp night air.

He looks a dream, really.

Not that he ever looks anything less, thank you very much!

Eddie knows Steve is lost in some thought, the kind that pinches his brows together and downturns his mouth into a mindless pout rather than one that is truly grumpy.

At least Eddie thinks it’s all that before Steve sucks in a breath and sighs, deep and wistful as his beautiful hazel eyes grow bigger.

That look makes Eddie tip forward in his chair with a sharp snap. He shoves his lighter back into the breast pocket of his leather jacket, frowning himself now as he tilts his head to the side, hoping to catch his boyfriend’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

He is met with silence for a moment before Steve gives a soft and wistful sigh.

“You think when we’re old, we’ll be like Wayne and Scott?” Steve asks, still looking down the street.

“Jesus Christ, no!” Eddie scoffs, “I don’t plan on gettin’ old.”

Steve whips around and looks down at him with an even deeper frown and, yep – that’s a Worried Pout.

“What?” he near whimpers.

Eddie jumps up, groaning a little as his back pangs with deep regret over him tilting back on that stupid rickety chair. He waves a hand nonchalantly.

But Steve doesn’t budge. He looks hurt.

Eddie steps into his personal space and offers a small smile - one that he knows will showcase his dimples and make Steve melt like mozzarella cheese.

“Y’know what I mean,” he clarifies, “I do not intend to become some old fart, whose idea of a good time is going on a fishing trip while his boyfriend collects frogs.”

Steve somehow tightens the fold of his arms as he looks him over.

“Eddie, you like looking for frogs,” he retorts, his brows easing up a little, “Anyway, don’t you think they’re cute?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “Oh, here we go.”

“I mean it,” Steve defends, “Scott gets home from school and putters about for a while. Then, he finishes up some work exactly one hour before Wayne walks in the door. And then, they go about deciding on their takeout order – even though they always get the same thing! And when we get home, they’ll eat in front of the television, Wayne will clean up and then they watch the TV until Wayne starts to doze off and they go to bed.”

He finishes up with a sigh and looks back down Main Street again, appearing a little sheepish now as if he got a little too carried away with his longing there for a moment. It’s a look that tightens something in Eddie’s chest – one that makes him step even closer.

Or at least as close as he should get to his boyfriend out on the main thoroughfare of Hawkins.

He sucks in a breath and looks ahead too, wanting to kiss that look off Steve’s face.

But for the moment, he settles for a bump to the shoulder.

“We’re gonna be all that one day, aren’t we?” he says just above a whisper.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, upbeat but nonetheless quiet.

Eddie leans in, “Follow me, sugar.”

He tugs on Steve’s jacket sleeve and promptly spins on his heel to disappear around the corner of the building. The dumpsters behind the local pizza shop aren’t the most romantic of settings – but sue him for having a Rolodex of potential public makeout spots at the ready.

Eddie can feel Steve’s warm breath on his neck as they reach the far end of the building, sending a shiver down his spine. He turns to lean against the wall and palms around for any part of Steve to come along with him.

Steve crowds him against the building and as soon as he pushes them flush together, Eddie becomes all too aware of how whisps of his hair stick to the cool brick behind him. He gasps.

“Oh, no! What if I lose my hair!” he shrieks.

Steve grumbles, insulted, “What if I lose my hair?”

“Wha-cha – Stevie!” Eddie splutters, “My hair is just as important as yours!”

Steve smirks and reaches for his hairline, brushing back his bangs. He scrunches his nose.

“Hmm,” he hums with closer inspection, “It’s looking okay… for now.”

Eddie hisses at him.

“Get your damn dirty paws off-a me,” he grouses. Eddie flicks his bangs back into place with an exaggerated hmfph before he straightens up and snakes his arms around Steve’s middle, pulling him tighter still, “Steve, I promise as I stand here before you, behind the hallowed halls of Gino’s Pizzeria – ”

“ – Eddie, the owner’s name is Frank.”

“Fine! Frank – he of bountiful cheese and delicious tomato sauce. I do declare that I will still love you, even if I turn into a balding old grump with a permanent frown and bad knees.”

“And will you still love me if I become a middle school teacher, all chipper and cheery?”

“Meh, that wouldn’t be so bad,” Eddie shrugs.

“What if I grew a moustache?” Steve grins.

“That’s taking it too far!” Eddie practically shouts, squeezing the air out of his boyfriend in the process.

Steve gives a wheezing giggle as he runs his thumb and index finger over the soft stubble he has above his plush top lip. Eddie captures the mocking digits in his own hand and bites down, earning a wicked whine.

Steve shivers and gives a warning, “Edward…”

“Now,” Eddie begins, lowering the register of his voice, “Ravish me!”

Steve leans forward and presses the most chaste of kisses to the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll ravish you later,” he pulls back and winks.

But Eddie recoils, nearly knocking his head back against the pizzeria’s brick wall.

“When you have pineapple breath?” he spits with a dramatic grimace.

“Says you, Onion Boy.”

“Fine,” Eddie relents, “We’re both stinky.”

The rusty bell of the pizza shop’s front door sounds and Eddie is sure Wayne and Scott have already made it back, always more efficient in calling ahead with their own takeout order.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Steve smiles, lacing their fingers together.