#AUGH SORRY THIS ONES LATE

[onedragonaday]

1/28/24 Light dragon from Loz Tears of the Kingdom

[courtmartialme]

baby au in beach episode :^)

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 38

Part 1 Part 37

Steve keeps acting like he’s perfectly fine. Like he didn’t have part of his shoulder carved off. Like he’s not suffering through an hour of glorified torture masquerading as physical therapy every day, trying to build his muscle back up. Like the doctor hadn’t told him he might still never get back to shooting hoops and swimming laps with the precision he used to. Like his ribs aren’t still broken, and he doesn’t still have trouble standing, or wake up screaming, clutching at his throat. Like he doesn’t rub the back of his head sometimes and stare into the middle distance with lost eyes. And it’s pissing Eddie off.

Especially now, as he walks beside Wayne, pushing Steve’s wheelchair down the hall toward the elevator. This in and of itself was a feat. First, Steve had argued that he didn’t need a wheelchair, then he’d argued he didn’t need help pushing it. Eddie let Steve flounder for a few minutes, trying to make his useless arm wheel him forward, angry tears springing from his eyes before he acquiesces.

The latest rub is the worst: Steve wants to go home. As if Eddie doesn’t remember the look on Steve’s face when he said he wanted to go to Eddie’s trailer. As if Eddie doesn’t remember the way Steve’s voice broke when he called the trailer home.

“The doctor said somebody needs to keep an eye on ya,” Wayne says reasonably. “Either we do it, or you can stay with Joyce. She offered to put you up.”

Steve scoffs. “My parents—”

“Aren’t home!” Eddie snaps, pushing Steve into the elevator and pushing the down button on the elevator with enough force that his finger hurts.

Steve sits up straighter in his chair, reading for a fight. Wayne doesn’t let him. “If you’re staying at that house, then so are we,” he says, implacable. “Until your parents are there to watch you.” Left unsaid, is that no one had heard from them. That Steve hadn’t asked about them at all.

Steve slumps down in a position that must be hell on his cracked ribs, sighing. “Fine,” he says, like it hurts. “I’ll stay in the trailer.”

It feels like a knife twist. Eddie wants to shake Steve and remind him he’d called it home.

It’s quick after that. Steve signs himself out at the front desk, tucking the physical therapy schedule they’d made for him into the pocket of the sweatpants Wayne had scavenged from Eddie’s drawers for Steve to wear home.

Wayne and Eddie work together to help lever Steve into the passenger seat of Eddie’s van. Wayne slides into the driver’s seat without asking, so Eddie grumbles his way into the back.

Steve’s quiet when Wayne pulls up front, quiet while they help him in, quiet when he’s settled onto the couch.

He’s looking around his surroundings just like he had the first time – like he’s amazed people live like this. That first time, he’d wanted to snarl, make sure Harrington knew that there was nothing wrong with this life he’d created with his Uncle. Now, he just thinks of Steve’s empty house, the hospital’s unanswered phone calls to his parents, and feels unbearably sad.

Wayne puts on a basketball game that Eddie doesn’t even complain about, and settles himself at Steve’s side.

Steve falls asleep halfway through the game, head falling on Eddie’s shoulder, warm puffs of air hitting the bare skin of his neck.

Wayne huffs, and Eddie looks up at him, already glaring defensively. “What?” he demands, quiet enough not to disturb Steve.

Wayne raises his hands placatingly, even as he smiles smugly over at Eddie. “I didn’t say anything.”

They all sleep in the living room that night. It’s cozy and warm, especially after Wayne drapes a blanket over them both.

It should feel weird, settling this closely to Steve, now that they’re not depending on each other to survive. Now that they’re back in the real world. But Eddie feels like he’ll fall apart if Steve’s not in sight, so maybe he’s not out of the woods after all.

It's peaceful.

It stays peaceful until the next day when it’s time for Steve’s physical therapy appointment.

“I can take myself,” he says. “I have a car.”

He’s not meeting Eddie’s eyes. Eddie takes a few deep breaths. He knows snapping won’t help anything, but he wants to smack Steve until this is easier. He just— he doesn’t get this. Can’t figure out what the problem is.

“It would take just as long to drive you to your car as it would to just drive you,” Eddie says, cleaning up their half-assed breakfast of toast a cereal off the table. He doesn’t look back at Steve, wants to play this cool and nonchalant, and he just knows one look at the obstinate tilt of Steve’s chin will send him swinging. 

“I can walk,” he says, even though he really really can’t.

Eddie slams a dish into the sink. He’s almost surprised the bowl doesn’t shatter upon impact. He scrubs it, back to where Steve is stewing in silence.

He needs to figure this out. Why Steve is being so difficult, about staying here, about Eddie feeding him and driving him. He does the hardest thing he can think of, and asks, “why don’t you want me to take you to your appointment?”

He doesn’t turn around, just keeps scrubbing the dishes like this is a casual conversation over breakfast. Because it should be.

The silence drags him down, lasts long enough that Eddie doesn’t think Steve will answer at all.

“You shouldn’t have to,” Steve says.

Eddie thinks back – big house no parents – and wonders how long it’s been since someone did something for Steve without strings. He turns around, settles back into his seat and stares at Steve until he raises his eyes from the table.

Choosing his words carefully, he says, “I want to go with you,” Eddie says. “You saved my life—"

“But—” Eddie holds up a hand, and Steve stops, brows furrowed.

“You saved my life,” he repeats, meeting Steve’s eyes. “I’m gonna help you whether you like it or not.”

It’s not quite the whole truth, but Eddie’s not sure how to touch the way it feels like worms are writhing in his stomach when Steve’s out of his sight. How his shoulders only really relax when he knows exactly where Steve and Will both are.

Eddie bites his tongue on the too much of it all.

“Fine,” Steve says, still sullen, but he lets Eddie lead him to the van and drive him to his appointment.

It looks painful. Eddie holds his crossed ankles, to stop himself from leaping up and wrenching Steve away from the doctor’s ministrations.

By the end, Steve looks like he just got done with a basketball game, sweat dripping down his forehead, pits stained. If Eddie squints, he can almost see the uncomplicated jock of days past as they limp out of the hospital.

“You wanna go see Baby Byers?” Eddie asks.

“Please,” Steve says, slumping into the passenger seat like the princess he is.

Eddie drives, turning his music up loud enough to rattle their teeth just to see Steve smile.

Part 39

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

Y'ALL I'M SO SORRY I MISSED TIDBIT TUESDAY!!! SOMEONE SUE ME WAGHHH to make up for it please accept tidbit THURSDAY (a lil longer than usual 'cause I'm real sorry AGH)

"Oh fuck." Dallas skidded to a halt, heaved in the fridged night air in gasps that burned down his throat 'n panted out his nose in hot bursts. Johnny froze beside him, wrapped hands around his biceps 'n dug his nails in.

They were cornered. Fuck. How had Dallas let that happen? But he knew how. 'Cause at some point c'mon just high tail it this way 'n they'll get sick of chasin' 'n bail had become duckin' alleys 'n leapin' fences 'n the sound of sirens comin' ever closer.

Johnny's eyes are sharp 'n dark 'n watchin' Dallas close, his back to the tall fence that bordered the lot. Jesus Christ. Dallas should have been more careful. Ain't no way both of them are gettin' over that. He bites his lip. Hard.

Well. Nothin' to be done about it.

He tears his jacket off his shoulders, slips it off his arms 'n shoves it into Johnny's hands. Johnny hesitates then lets out a low noise, shakes his head, tries to force the worn leather back into Dallas' arms. "Dal, no, c'mon."

"Stop wastin' time, Johnny." His voice comes out a little harsher than he means it to, scrapin' against his chest as his heart bangs away under the veins in his wrists. In one smooth, practiced, 'n worn movement done a hundred times til it was rounded at the edges, he slides his St. Christopher over his head, his ring from his finger, droppin' them both into Johnny's already waitin', upturned palm.

The sirens reach a crescendoin' pitch, wailin' 'n yowlin', the lights cuttin' long, low shadows across the lot. They were out of time.

"Dal-"

"C'mon, kid." Dallas doesn't wait for him to comply, just grabs for his ankle 'n hoists him unceremoniously over the rustin' fence. Like he was already expectin' it, Johnny twists, manages to land on his feet. The sleeves of Dally's jacket hang low over his hands 'n for a moment they both just stand there, lookin' at each other through the braided metal. 'Til Johnny can't stand it anymore, tears his eyes away 'cause lookin' at Dallas like that reminds him of Dally on the other side of chains that can't be cleared as easily as a boost 'n a well-placed leap.

Cops are crossin' the lot now 'n Dallas glances over his shoulder, haloed 'n silhouetted in the red 'n blue. "C'mon Johnny Cakes. You gotta beat it." 'N his voice is low 'n urgent 'n he wants to sound cool 'n tuff but it cracks just a lil' on the edges. But he's gotta get the kid outta here 'cause Johnny had a chance. 'N Dallas wasn't gonna let him go down for somethin' he could throw himself in the way of.

"Dal, please-"

"Johnny please." 'N then he's runnin'. 'Cause Johnny was never as brave as Dallas Winston. 'N he never would be.

Dallas watches his shadow slip away 'n sighs, bares his teeth 'n grins 'n throws his hands mockin'ly into the air. Johnny can hear his gunfire laugh crack crack crack-in' as he ducks into an alley 'n disappears.

...

Johnny clears the Curtis steps in one long leap, bangs the door open harder than he means to 'n flinches. Four heads whip around, Soda 'n Darry already risin' to their feet.

"Johnny? What's-?" Darry freezes, takes a good look at the jacket slidin' from Johnny's slight shoulders, the pendent bit between his teeth, the ring he's gotta keep his fingers bent so it doesn't slide off, 'n sighs. He abandons the plate of dinner he's inevitably just sat down for 'n snaps his keys from the counter.

"Johnny, you ok?" Soda shoves his chair back so it scraps against the tile 'n Darry winces.

"'M fine." He drops the St. Christopher from his mouth, hoists the jacket up. "It's-"

"Dallas." Darry toes his shoes on, grabs a sweatshirt discarded beside the door. "If the station calls, let 'em know I'm already on the way." He sighs again. Johnny sways on his feet, the adrenaline rushin' straight out of him 'cause Darry's got it now. Got him now.

"Johnny, you ok kid?" Soda's got his hands on his biceps now, lookin' him close in the eye.

"Yeah," Johnny heaves in a breath, runs a hand under his nose 'n winces when dry blood flakes off under his fingers, "S'ok."

Soda glances over his head 'n Darry pauses, gives him a look that levels him to his core. He was real good at those. But whatever he sees convinces him Johnny ain't lyin'. He hovers in the door a moment longer, watchin' Johnny with those ice-green eyes before he shakes his head, leans over, 'n brushes the last of the dried blood from Johnny's face.

"Y'know, kid? You look just like him in that." 'N none of them are sure that's a good thing. But Johnny just grins, crooked in the way he learned from Dallas.

"Y'know? There are worse people to be like."

[courfeyracs-swordcane]

[pointing towards you emoji] favorite blaseball team. go

(if you want to practice drawing in another style, then draw yourself as a transformer OR as a human character)

WE ARE FROM CHICAGO

[memento-morri-writes]

More dnd writing because it's all I have but I here's a snippet from a vignette I did of Rook's past (from Zara's POV), because Rook and his mentors never fails to make me sick (/pos).

[transcript under the cut]

Taking a coin out of her pocket, she rolled it across her knuckles, back and forth. It gave her hands something to do, and prevented the urge to bite her nails, something she hadn’t done in years. Ten minutes passed, then twenty. Zara began to pace as Rook’s breathing grew shakier and the color drained from his skin. Where the hells is Jay? she wondered. The room was so quiet that she could hear every tick of the small clock on her bedside table, and each one echoed in her head. How many ticks does he have left? She didn’t want to think about it.  She’d had crew members die before, of course. You don’t go as many years as a captain as she had and never lose a soul. But all the others who had died had died quickly, in combat. She’d mourned for all of them, even shed tears in private, but there was something different about watching the life drain out of a person right in front of your eyes.

[ilonacho]

glanced at my inbox and i am. so sorry

[radiopixelctive]

why don't you send sans some letters? something to let him know you're okay? how about gifts?

[oh-cramity-its-amity]

hiya, I’m bored so I’m goin around and asking my mutuals this question cause I’m curious :]

if someone gave you unlimited budget and time to put towards making a movie/show and you could make it about anything you wanted what would you make it about?

ohhh man this is hard. i have a few things.

in terms of shows:

1.) make a toh season 4-6 OR the original pilot universe of the owl house the way dana had in mind. preferably probably a pilot toh universe spin off.

or too- make a toh spin off based on my vampire au fanfic. with dana. though idk how well she'd be into it but id want her to be on the process too. anything toh i want her to be working on it because its not toh if its not her. but if we did a production based on my fanfic? that would be so cool..?? iconic actually.

2.) the locked tomb would be so cool as a animated show potentially? like an anime. NOT live action. none of that. it just could be so cool. it would fit animation. would fit more as a show too though because the lore just wouldnt fit in with a movie. theres too much and i dont think any parts of it should get cut out. in terms of the cast?? uhh.. gee idk

movies?? i have a couple.

"she gets the girl" by rachael lippincott and alyson derrick could be SUCH a cute romcom. i absolutely adored it and like i cannot talk about my enjoyment of the book enough. i would watch that movie SO much.

"one last stop" by casey mcquiston!!! I JUST GOT DONE WITH THIS BOOK TODAY BUT I WANT SO MUCH FOR THIS TO BE A MOVIE LOW KEY BECAUSE OH MY GOD IT WOULD LITERALLY SLAY SO HARD AND I WOULD BE SO ENCHANTED BY IT ALL.

[updates-on-docm77]

Doc tweeted!

[clownaddict]

I’m gonna be honest. I kinda don’t get the love for cross guild especially as a ship? It’s one of the most miserable states buggy has been in? What’s the appeal? I’m being completely genuine since I saw a lot of buggy fans loving the idea of those three but I only see it as abuse 😭 is it just not my cup of tea or am I missing something? How do you feel about them?

Eh, I’m not a big crossguild shipper either, and mainly for the same reason you brought up here. If I were to ship Buggy with anyone, I’d pair him with someone who’d love him unconditionally, not someone who regularly uses his head as a kickball.

Buuuuuut it’s fun to torment the clown so I 100% understand the people who ship them and have zero problems with people that do. Most Cross Guild shippers make their relationship a lot more consensual and fun and less, well- “Buggy tormenting” even if the power dynamics are still there.

But y’all have fun shipping whatever you want out there! The sky’s the limit! ;)

[medium5]

The meower

[than487]

"Keep it up, kid. I think you're gonna be a star."

Or, alternatively, OCposting with 0 lore as always. Stardew brain go BRRR. ⛷️

[crescent-cubed]

My son bites

GOODNESS HIM TEEF DO SOME WORK

[savior-of-humanity]

“You make me feel safe.” (For Guts, from some lowly peasant who ended up being saved by his ability to slay.)

The remark makes his lip curl in amusement.

Safe?

Him?

He bit back the urge to bark out a laugh at their statement; he was by no means safe. His mere presence was an omen in of itself, a guarantee that those who came across him in his travels would be inevitably swept up in the dark forces that followed him. And yet, he still can't help but mull over their words.

He made them feel safe.

Guts, who was perhaps more beast than man. Guts, who stood from head to toe in the still-steaming blood and gore of an apostle. Guts, who bore the Brand of Sacrifice, the mark that guaranteed he would never know true rest, that he would remain forever hunted and haunted by the darkness.

His thoughts flick back to the image of a young girl some years ago. Abused by her own parents, so desperate for a better life, for love, that she preferred the company of a monster over her own kind. She'd trusted him, even when he had done unspeakable things (he can still remember how their little bodies burned), even when he almost killed her. She trusted him enough to sleep in his lap as though he were her own father.

Some small part of him wonders how she's doing, and the beast reminded himself that she was probably dead by now.

He shook his head at the stranger. "I'm not safe. Never have. Never will be. Just because I saved your sorry ass doesn't mean it's gonna happen again, anyway."

Guts turned to walk away, back into the darkness that always waited for him - but, no matter how much he tried to ignore it, there was that little flickering flame of content that brought warmth to his soul.

[phagodyke]

iwtv is rly getting to me 😭 I feel sooo bad for claudia no one tell me anything bc idk the book lore + I dont want spoilers but istg she's gonna kill herself in that theatre fire...