#Hello strangers

[moriamori]

Even now I feel the ghosts of muscles and nerves wishing to induce pain, as my upper torso works on healing missing skin from ripped kinetic sports tape used in recovery.

The words "Do what you love while you still have the bodily means to do it" rattles through my bones, I'm not that old by human standards but the sense of a countdown remains regardless. Comics are a deep love of mine. They're also the medium to tell a story very, very slowly.

With an average life span of 80 years, knock off my current 30, that's 50 years left. A completed series could take about ten years, many have taken longer. The manic could commit maybe five stories. Realistically, most manage half or a quarter of one. Maybe complete one. Maybe two. And my arms hurt, my spine pinches. My fingers tingle.

With my current funds, I choose between one physio session for the month, or hope to save up enough for an ergonomics assessment of my awful workdesk-setup in a slanted apartment, with a chair too big and items eternally too wide, too heavy for me. "This time," I say, "This time, this will help me get closer to drawing again".

I had wanted to be a freelance illustrator, when I realized my day job would never financially reflect the amount of work I do or don't put in. I wouldn't be able to increase my funds if I took on more work. My job will only realize they can expect more work out of me for the same pay. Getting hired elsewhere, while a possibility, would likely involve obtaining a new job that is twice as stressful and pays a tiny bit more. I don't even want this career.

I used to do commissions. I used to draw like I breathed. The irony of working in an art school is that the continuous exposure to technique and "how to get better", mainly makes you able to see your own mistakes and your own shortcomings over and over again. It's always about improvement. Find the faults, do better. Do better. Do better.

Don't sing this way, sing that way.

I feel like I've lost my voice. I feel like my voice hasn't much to say, actually. I know people loved it, once. People even demand my return.

"I want to see the next pages." "Where's that comic you said you'd do?" "Made any art recently?"

Positive attention doesn't pay bills, doesn't give me lunch, doesn't offer insurance for my physio therapy bills. It almost did. But I would have to keep performing. Keep producing through the burn. And I want to. I do. That's the awful thing in the end. I also want these pages done.

I want to love to create again. I remember I loved. I loved fearlessly. Made fearlessly. I embraced bad art. Minimalist art. Shitty art.

"I know you can make better than this." "You didn't put effort in this one."

Please put effort in me.

I am sorry the previous conditions I worked in were not enough, and the past support was not enough. I did have patreon. I did have some support. I had people willing to pay me for my time and effort and they even had patience. It was almost enough. Almost.

A flower still wilts if only given a slice of the sun it needs. It can try to grow in those conditions but it isn't going to be good.

"It used to be enough before!"

Maybe I grew. Maybe my appetite and my needs got bigger. Kids' meals don't fill me anymore. What right do I have to ask for more, when I have nothing to show for it? When what I make, may end up being terrible regardless?

"Remember you will love," I tell myself once more. Maybe I'll love regardless, in the end. Pages or no pages.

I do love terrible comics, in the end.

[aj-unfortunatelynot-crowley]

this is for me

There's been a weird sense of finality when i figured out I was aromantic.

I have known I was ace for so long but just kept pushing the thought of being aromantic around until I could no longer ignore it.

I ignored it while I was in very toxic relationships, I ignored it while I was in very weird, impersonal relationships, but I could no longer ignore it while I was in a good one.

And i guess that makes sense. In all those other relationships I had, at least I could focus on the negative and tell myself that that was the only reason I was so uncomfortable. In that one good one though? They were wonderful. It wasn't always great but they were wonderful. And just that slow realisation that started creeping up-

It was horrible.

Slowly realising that all the things I played along with against my gut feeling weren't at all what I liked?

Horrible.

Realising I'll never going to feel differently about any of it?

Horrible.

It was like my whole sense of life had been put into a blender and whatever came out of it, needed to be thrown away.

But I admitted it to myself.

And you know what?

That weight of my shoulders that got heavier every time I told my partner I loved them knowing that something just wasn't right?

Lifted.

That knot in my throat every time i made promises i knew i wasn't comfortable with?

No longer there.

I feel lonely, yes. And i don't know what to do with myself just yet.

But it can't get that much worse, can it?

[carolineart]

Okay hello guys

So my plan for right now is to post sketches and occasionally finished stuff

I have a wip comic so we’ll see if that ends up on here ig :)

If you like the art yay and also please credit me if you use it for pfps or stuff like that!

I’m really busy so consistency will not be happening for the foreseeable future

Um yeah

I like tma, red valley, malevolent, the John Died books, casual wtnv listener, and I like horror movies in moderation

Be good people and be appropriate :)

Bye, carolineart

[spiralocean]

uh oh my jerma posts are making the rounds again

[metal-mouse]

watch me do nothing on tumblr but bombard people with boops all day today

[avocadostastenothing]

I just came here to act silly then logged out

[corvusalbus93]

To paraphrase Hooty:

its rude to reblog things from people you arent mutuals with fyi. :/

💀 my brother in christopher

[tetleytom]

I don't know what the fuck happened the last month too make me seem so approachable, but everyone I see on my walks seems to want to start a conversation up these days. It's like I wiped the shit off my face or something.

[scapegods]

Will Byers should be allowed to beat someone up

[astro-inthestars]

well since this might as well happen!

My fave tags <3

Kinda gay to be a construction worker. What do you mean you're going down a manhole? 🤨🤔👀

[wooneygoblin]

me thinking about 90s college age byler au where mike actually plays that guitar we know he has

[ithinkiannoyeveryone]

posted about my mental health too much on main so. hope this doesn't get too mentally ill

[tzarrz]

i listen to fog lake too much

[radiance1]

"You are, concerningly light." Red Robin stated to the civilian currently laying in his arms. "Psst," Danny waved off his concern with ease. "Don't worry about it."

"Are you sure?" The vigilante questioned. "Because I'm very sure someone your size shouldn't be so easy to carry."

Danny snorted. "And how would you know-" He then paused, looked over Red Robin and sniffed. "Nevermind, that was a dumb question don't answer that."

That time it was Red Robin's turn to snort.

[steveseddie]

pencil me in

written for the @steddiebingo kissing booth mini event | prompt: heart | rating: t | wc: 1,5k | tags: pre relationship, misunderstandings, dramatic eddie

read on ao3

Eddie arrives at Steve’s house with a mission– he’s finally going to ask him out on a date. A Valentine’s Day date where he’ll romance the hell out of Steve.

If he says yes, that is.

Eddie has his doubts, of course he does, but he also has reasons to believe this might work out. Reasons to believe that Steve might like him back.

Those are what gets Eddie to the front door where he rings the doorbell before whatever doubts he has make him turn around and leave.

His resolve falters slightly when Steve opens the door, dressed in sleeping clothes but somehow still looking as beautiful as ever. But he bounces right back when he notices that the shirt Steve is wearing is his Black Sabbath shirt. Little things like these are what make Eddie think he might actually score a date today.

“Eddie, hey.” Steve flashes him that lopsided grin that Eddie thinks he saves just for him. Another one of those little things.

Eddie waves, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Hi, Stevie.”

“I wasn’t expecting you,” Steve says, pushing his hair back. A stubborn strand of hair falls back over his forehead, making him huff in annoyance. “We– we didn’t have plans, did we?”

Eddie tsks. “I’m offended you think you could forget you and I had plans. Do you care so little about me?” He asks, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

Steve’s eyes dart to his lips for a split second before he rolls them. “Okay, drama queen,” he says, fondness lacing his tone. “Do you wanna come in or not? I was just about to have coffee.”

“Well, when you offer so nicely,” he teases, patting Steve’s cheek as he steps into the house.

He follows him to the kitchen and watches as he pours coffee in two mugs. The whole time Eddie is nervously playing with his rings, thinking about what he’s here to do.

He stops only when Steve hands him one of the mugs. “There you go. There’s milk in the fridge and I already added two spoonfuls of sugar.”

Eddie can’t help but melt like he does every time Steve remembers details about him– the way he likes his coffee, that he hates pickles, that strawberry is his favorite milkshake. “Thanks, sweetheart,” he says, walking to the fridge while Steve takes a sip from his own coffee. Black, like a heathen.

See? Eddie remembers things about Steve too. Then again, he’s also in love with the guy.

Time to do something about that, Eddie thinks.

“So, uh, Valentine’s Day is coming up,” he says, trying to steer the conversation where he wants it.

Steve leans back against the counter. “Mhm,” he hums into his coffee. “Are you going door to door telling people Valentine’s Day is a capitalistic holiday and an excuse for companies to make more money?”

Eddie clutches his chest. “Harrington, did you actually pay attention to my rants back in school?”

Steve chokes on his coffee, a slight pink tinge shading his cheeks. “N–No, I mean, I might’ve heard some of it, you’re loud, man. ‘S not like I had a choice.”

“Sure, Stevie,” Eddie says, shooting him a dimpled grin. “Anyway, no, I didn’t come here to lecture you about holidays being capitalist days of overconsumption.”

Steve tilts his head. “Why did you come here then?”

Eddie’s stomach churns as he realizes this is it. His fingers tighten around his coffee and he remembers he didn’t grab the milk. He thinks that something to do while asking Steve out might make things a little easier.

“Yeah, so I was thinking–” he starts, reaching for the fridge door, but the rest of the words die in his throat when he notices something on it.

See, like the Mother Hen that he is, Steve keeps a calendar on his fridge where he writes down everything from work shifts and doctor’s appointments to after-school pick-ups and group movie nights.

The first time Eddie saw the calendar, he wanted to call Steve a dork and tease him for having to keep track of his kids like that. But when he saw his name there, something warm bubbled up in his chest at the reminder that he was part of the group, of their lives, of Steve’s life. That they didn’t drop him as soon as the Upside Down was defeated. And just like that, making fun of Steve didn’t seem so important anymore.

Now, several months later, Eddie’s name is all over the calendar, but this time, that’s not what shuts him up.

No, it’s the word date written on the tiny square for February 14th, and the heart drawn around it.

Of course Steve has plans for Valentine’s Day. Of course it’s too late for Eddie to ask him out.

Of fucking course the moment he finally decides to make a move on Steve, he’s already got himself a date with someone else.

“Eddie?” Steve asks, snapping Eddie out of his spiral. He tears his eyes from that damn heart and glances at Steve, who’s waiting for him to finish what he was saying.

To finish asking him out. Except, he can’t do that anymore.

“I– I have to go,” he says instead, leaving his untouched coffee on the counter and backing away.

“What?”

“Yeah, I forgot I– I have to help Wayne with– uh, something.”

Steve’s eyebrows knit together. “Eddie–”

“Thanks for– for the coffee,” Eddie stammers out.

Steve huffs. “You didn’t even drink it.”

He takes two steps towards Eddie, who takes two steps back. “Sorry, I– I have to go.”

“Weren’t you gonna ask something about Valentine’s Day?” Steve asks when Eddie pivots and heads towards the door.

“Nope! Bye, Steve. Have fun with your date!”

“My– date?” Steve’s voice is laced with confusion. “Eddie, wait!”

Eddie doesn’t want to. He wants to leave, but Steve grabs him by the arm and pulls him to an abrupt stop.

He still won’t meet Steve’s eyes, though. At least not until Steve gives him no other choice by cupping his cheeks and forcing Eddie to look at him. He can’t help the way his stomach flutters at the touch and how close their faces are like this, and he has to remind himself that Steve has a date. This doesn’t mean anything.

“Why did you really come here, Eds?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Steve huffs, his thumb brushing over Eddie’s cheek. “Because for a moment it seemed like you were here to ask me out on a Valentine’s Day date.”

Eddie groans, averting his gaze. “Steve, I said it doesn’t matter now–”

“Yes, it does!” Steve repeats, his arms falling to his sides in frustration.

Yeah, well. Eddie is frustrated too, damn it.

He crosses his arms over his chest. “It doesn’t because you already have a date!”

“Says who?”

“Your calendar, Steve!” He snaps. “The heart? The date you’ve got scheduled for Friday?”

“Yeah,” he says, “with you!”

What?

Eddie blinks. “But– you haven’t asked me.”

“I was going to,” Steve says softly. “But then you beat me to it.”

“Oh,” Eddie breathes, his heart picking up speed. Steve was going to ask him out. Holy shit.

“Yeah. So, are you gonna finish what you started or should I?” Steve says, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a tiny smirk.

This time, Eddie doesn’t hesitate, his doubts gone now. “Stevie, do you want to go on a date with me on Valentine’s Day?”

“Yeah, Eds, I do,” he says, his smirk turning into that lopsided grin he saves just for Eddie.

He only gets a glimpse of that grin before Steve swoops in and presses their lips together, softly at first. When Eddie makes a noise in the back of his throat and grabs a hold of his own Black Sabbath shirt to pull Steve closer, he kisses him harder, his tongue darting out and swiping along Eddie’s bottom lip. Eddie parts his lips, letting him in. He wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders and stumbles back a few steps until his back hits the fridge, knocking a couple of magnets to the floor.

At the sound, Steve pulls back, his eyes focusing on something next to Eddie’s head as his lips twitch upwards. Before Eddie can ask what he’s looking at, Steve grabs the marker stuck to the fridge and writes something on the calendar.

Curious, Eddie turns his head. Now where they used to say just date Steve added something else.

Date with Eddie.

That same warm and fluttery feeling from the first time he saw his name there comes back, only tenfold. And so does the need to tease Steve.

“Can’t believe you had our date scheduled even before you asked me,” he says with a shake of his head. “That’s pretentious of you, sweetheart.”

Steve shrugs. “I was right, wasn’t it?” He says, grinning smugly.

With a laugh, Eddie agrees. “Damn right, you were,” he says, pulling Steve in for another kiss.

[eddiesghxst]

eddie throwing his back out giving you everything he has and ofc it hurts like a bitch the next day and he wants you again and again and again

🫶

ITS GIVING OLDER EDDIE HELLO

18+ — MINORS DNI

————

the next morning eddie’s making breakfast and he dramatically groans whenever he reaches up to grab something from the cabinets until you finally crack and ask, “what’s wrong, baby?”

he just jokingly glares at you and goes, “you destroyed my back, that’s what’s wrong. the last time i had this much sex was in my twenties, i’m not equipped for this.” he grumbles, reaching back to rub at his lower back.

you roll your eyes, stepping forward to slink your hands around his waist, pressing your body up against his back and kissing the bare skin between his shoulders, “for what it’s worth, even though you’ve got a shitty back, your refractory period makes up for it,” you joke, patting his stomach and kissing his back once again, pressing a smile into his skin when he grunts in response.

“don’t have much of a choice, do i? i’ve got a succubus for a girlfriend.”

you hum, “that’s weird, last i remember it was you asking for one more round, wasn’t it?”

you stretch onto the tips of your toes to rest your chin against his shoulder to peer down at his skilled hands hard at work preparing your meal, and eddie doesn’t bother glancing at you as he responds, “not sure, things start to blur after the third big-O.”

you hum as a teasing smile spreads across his lips, “whatever you say, big guy.” you playfully nip at his shoulder and he hisses, batting you away as you giggle, turning to lean against the counter beside him so you’re facing him, “when you’re done with this, come and i’ll give you a massage for your achey old man back, hm?”

eddie glances away from his task to look at you, “that pretty little mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble.”

you tilt your head with a sly grin, voice smooth and sultry as you speak, “is that a threat, musnon?”

eddie let’s out an exasperated noise and looks at you with narrowed eyes, “can a man cook in peace, please? or at least without you trying to get in my pants like i’m some harlot,”

you raise your eyebrows and motion down to his crotch, the unmistakable print of his hardening length pressing against the seam of his sweatpants, “seems like he enjoys it.”

eddie playfully shoves you away then, muttering for you to get out of the kitchen and you giggle, yelping when he swats at your behind, “ow! what was that for?” you whine, rubbing at your sore cheek. eddie grins, dicing a few onions and dropping them onto the stove, “for being such a goddamn minx. get out of here before i accidentally set this house on fire.”

and even though his back hurts like hell, he still ends up drilling your shit, but you have to take over midway because eddie’s poor back really might just croak on him and he swears if that happens, you’re paying for his medical bill <3