#I do hope its still enjoyable

[afewproblems]

For the prompts #39 things you forgot to say and number 23 things you were forced to say steddie hurt/ comfort

Thank you for this combo - I hope I’ve done it justice but my hand slipped and this got long and it got sad…so I apologize in advance!

“Shit!” Steve hisses, wrenching his face away from the open oven door as a cloud of hot moist air rushes out, he wipes his face with the free hand not holding the oven door handle. 

“You good man?” Robin laughs from where she’s perched on the counter, her dangling legs swing joyfully back and forth. 

“Peachy,” Steve mutters, grabbing a hot-cloth to pull out the baking tray, he shakes the mini pigs in a blanket around to dislodge them from the foil before putting the tray back onto the middle rack, “put on another fifteen would ya?” he says over his shoulder to Robin.

She snatches the little blue egg timer from beside her thigh and twists it to the appropriate time before placing it back onto the counter. 

It's not the only snack he's prepared, granted to call it preparation would be a bit of a stretch. He had grabbed chips and pop, beer, and juice -just in case, that afternoon. It wasn't as though he hadn't needed a grocery run, and the most intensive snack was now baking in the oven, it wasn't all out, not really…

“Going all out I see,” she hums with a quirked eyebrow and a growing smile.

Steve smirks, ignoring the heat that blooms across his cheeks and ears that has nothing to do with the open oven door. She knows exactly what he's trying to do and who it's for. 

Eddie had somehow, after everything, burrowed his way into their lives and never left. 

And it was nice, he had a wicked sense of humor and warm brown eyes that made Steve's heart quicken in a way he couldn't quite explain. 

He and Robin had talked it to death in fact, analyzing each small moment, each lingering glance or touch that had occurred between them over the last few months since Eddie had been discharged from the hospital.

Steve had even begun hanging out with Eddie alone, invited along for movie nights in the new Munson trailer. 

***

“Come on,” Steve scoffs as he throws a handful of popcorn into Eddie’s face from his side of the couch, he laughs as Eddie meets the projectiles with an open mouth, “Han Solo Harrison Ford could totally take out Indiana Jones Harrison Ford, no contest!” 

Eddie snorts and shakes his head sagely, “Oh Steven, sweet Steven,” he takes a long drag on the joint between his fingers and blows it out through his nose, “you forget about Rick Deckard! The trenchcoat alone man!”

“Who?” Steve says as his face scrunches into a slight frown, he gestures for Eddie to pass the joint and takes a long pull before coughing roughly as the smoke hits his lungs, it’s been awhile since he’s actually smoked but, ah well, when in Rome.

Eddie grins and launches into an explanation of something called Blade Runner and the pros and cons of the retelling of something about electric sheep? He vaguely remembers the title on the Hawk Theater marquee, but he was also pretty sure that was the year he and Patty Campbell made out while The Thing played in the background, so he must have missed it. Steve feels himself drift away, slightly lost as Eddie continues to speak, he watches the way the metal-head’s hands fly around - emphatically gesturing as he lists his points. He’s so pretty like this, his eyes bright and his dimples on full display--

Oh. Oh shit.

The familiar bubble of warmth blooms inside his chest and travels up, spreading into his hands and dusting his face with a light pink that he hopes is obscured by the dim light in the Munson living room. Shit.

“Family video should have it, we’ll pick it up for next time,” Eddie hums, he reaches for the joint, letting his fingers brush Steve’s own and it feels like sparks dance along his skin. 

Oh, double shit.

Eddie suddenly sits up straight, his legs slide off of the couch and onto the floor, nearly toppling the ashtray on the rug. 

“I mean, not sure when we’ll get around to uh, to doing that though you know?” Eddie says quickly, keeping his face trained on the ashtray below as he drops the roach into it. It bounces once and hits the carpet prompting a low groan as Eddie scoops it up before the ash can stain. 

“With Hellfire I mean, I don’t,” Eddie swallows, he looks at Steve once before dropping his gaze back to the floor, “you know how difficult it can be to schedule the kids and then with trying to find a place to host everyone--”

“I could have you,” Steve says, the words leap from his mouth loudly with little to no thought, “I mean, I could host,” he says quickly, his ears feel as though they’ve been engulfed in flames but he presses on, “Hellfire I mean, you know, if you want?”

Eddie’s head tilts slightly as he finally turns to look at Steve once more, his large brown eyes flick back and forth between Steve’s own before he grins and clears his throat, tucking a handful of curls behind his ear. 

“Alright Big Boy, I’m preparing to be wow’d,” Eddie says as he leans back against the arm of the couch once more and brings his feet back up, stretching towards Steve - just shy of his thigh. 

Steve can’t help but beam at Eddie, even as his heart hammers at a mile a minute, he  leans into the ratty couch cushions as casually as possible, “Nothing but the best for his highness,” Steve murmurs as he points his face back towards Harrison Ford on the television screen. 

He calls Robin as soon as he gets home that night, it’s late, nearly midnight, but she still takes his call - much to the disapproval of her parents. 

Thank God for Robin Buckley.

“When are you going to get your own line Robs,” Steve huffs once Mrs. Buckley finishes scolding him for the late hour, he’s lucky she bothered to even get Robin for him but Steve has managed to ever so slightly charm Mr. and Mrs. Buckley over the last year or two. He’s fairly certain they think he and Robin are dating, but if that’s the case they haven’t said as much.

“Not all of us are rich you dick,” she yawns into the receiver, “now spill it, what's so important that you’re calling this late?”

“I..I think,” he swallows, the silence on the other end of the line makes the words stick in his throat, “I like someone, uh I’m kind of freaked out about it Robin…”

"You like Eddie, you mean?" Robin says, so matter-of-factly that Steve almost drops the phone, he scrambles to keep ahold of it, “Steve?” Robin’s confused voice floats out of the receiver in soft tinney tones as he brings it back up to his ear.

"How did you--”

“You’re not exactly subtle dingus, plus you had a crush on me before so I’ve gotten pretty good at seeing when you’re mooning over someone,” she says with a laugh in her voice, it finally manages to pull a small grin out of him.

Steve groans, pressing the heel of his hand into his left eye until stars flash in his vision, “What the hell am I going to do Buckley? I’ve offered my place to host Hellfire”.

“Why on earth would you do that?” She hisses in exasperation. 

“It just came out!”

She sighs and it crinkles in his ear like static, “Well then,” she hums after a beat, “we’re going to need a game plan”.

***

Steve shakes his head slightly, and winks at her, "You know everything I do is to impress you Buckley," he snarks back, flipping the oven door closed with a snap. Steve grabs a discarded tea towel from the counter to wipe his hands before he stretches the fabric out into a lax bridge between his hands, he spins the towel suddenly and whips it out to catch at Robin's jean clad knees.

She squawks and leaps away from the counter with a wide grin, "asshole," Robin says affectionately, snatching the makeshift weapon away from him.

She wanders over to the fridge, popping open the door and leaning down to inspect the shelves. Robin huffs out a breath, "I don't think I've ever seen this many drink options outside of a literal vending machine," she turns slightly to look over her shoulder, "not impressing anyone my ass". 

Steve rolls his eyes, ignoring the flutter of nerves in his chest, it wasn’t the first time he had hosted the kids for a game night but this was the first time for the rest of the Hellfire group and the first time Steve would be meeting Eddie's friends and bandmates.

It shouldn't be as nerve wracking as it is. 

"Is it too much?" he asks lowly, crossing his arms over his chest, it had been Robin’s idea after all to cater to their stomachs, as the old saying went.

Robin stands up with a can of coke in hand, she cracks the tab and sips it, her eyes never leaving his face, she stares contemplative for what feels like an eternity before eventually rolling her eyes. 

"Nah, as much as it pains me to say, I think it’s pretty perfect,” she tips the can towards him as if in a toast, “plus, if he still hasn’t caught it yet I'm sure you'll have to really spell it out.” 

Robin gestures towards the fridge with a wry smile, "perhaps using the bountiful drink selection you have for us".

Steve snorts and feels his chest slowly begin to unclench, "don't tempt me Bobs" he mutters under his breath.

A shout and chorus of groans and, 'what the fuck man's’ ring out from the living room where the group have set up, Steve snorts at the mutinous tone in Mike's voice which carries farther than any of the others.

"Better get a move on with the snacks, the mob is getting restless," Robin says sagely before grabbing a handful of chips from a nearby bowl.

Steve swears if he rolls his eyes harder they'd fall out, but he grabs two bowls and makes his way over to the swinging door connecting the kitchen to the dining room.

The sounds of arguing increases, as Steve steps over the threshold, he smiles fondly at the sight of the kids. Will has his face in his hands, he's seated cross legged in one of the dining room chairs, Lucas is seated next to him with an arm on his shoulder, his eyes volley back and forth watching Dustin and Mike snarking at each other. 

Mike is standing, leaning over the table and gesturing emphatically at the plastic mat draped over the wood surface of the Harrington dining room table. 

It had belonged to his maternal grandmother and had been collecting dust since Steve had been old enough to reach the stove, old enough to be left on his own while his parents traveled for work.

At least now it was finally being put to good use, maybe not as Nana Marino intended, but Steve didn't think she would have minded. 

Dustin stands as well and picks up a small model, thrusting it into Mike's face, "look me in the eyes and tell me you think that's a good plan," he snarls as Mike swats at Dustin's hand, the plastic goes flying as Mike's hand connects. 

"Hey, hey," Steve shouts as Dustin pushes Mike away by the shoulders, "break it up, Jesus Christ you two". 

He sets the snack bowls on the table, ignoring the huff from Lucas who immediately moves them off the mat. 

Steve rolls his eyes as he bends down to grab the discarded figurine, it's a tiny…dwarf? At least that's what Steve thinks, he's sure that Dustin has told him his character's name and that the word dwarf has been used a few times that night, but he's unsure -and the spotty paint job does nothing to make it clearer as he holds up the model to his eye line. 

"Whatever Steve, you don't get it, Dustin is being an asshole-"

"Me?! You're the one-" 

Steve blows out a sharp whistle before bringing his hands up to form a T shape, "Time out, Jesus, where is your mediator, your Dungeon Man?"

"You know that's not what he's called," Mike grumbles under his breath while Dustin scowls and points to the sliding glass door to the backyard. 

Steve nods and pockets the figurine, ignoring the loud, 'Hey!' that Dustin bites out as he wanders towards the door.

"Relax, you'll get him back when you can guarantee no one's going to have him jammed down their throat," Steve calls over his shoulder with a smirk.

Steve slides open the glass door and steps out into the cool evening air. The sun has set but the last hints of pink and periwinkle paint the horizon, bathing the yard in blue twilight. Steve hears voices from around the corner of the house and the unmistakable smell of cigarettes floats his way as he steps closer. He's about to clear his throat, announce himself, when he hears his own name. 

"So what's up with Harrington?" The first voice says, Gareth, Steve thinks to himself, he blinks at the tone, it's curious if a little…teasing?

"What about him?" Eddie says, a lighter clicks in the background before a short pause. The smell of tobacco blooms once more, stronger now than before. Steve settles against the wall of the house, it's not right to eavesdrop -he knows that, but he can't help but wait, his feet rooted alongside his mothers rhododendrons.

"I mean come on, how is it that King Steve is hosting us in this fucking 'McMansion'," another voice says sharply, Jeff, Steve thinks, ignoring the small wave of hurt at the old title. 

"It's just…,” there’s a pause, “kinda weird man," Gareth says quietly. Gravel crunches and for a heart stopping moment Steve thinks he'll be caught, "I didn't think you were friends?" 

Steve presses himself into the wall, willing himself to move, to run back to the house as quickly and quietly as he can, but he can’t seem to move, he holds his breath as Eddie speaks.

Eddie snorts, "You think I'm friends with a guy like that?" 

The words hit Steve harder than he thought they would, cutting into his chest, settling in alongside, Bullshit, and, Asshole. They curl together and sink into his skin like a bruise.  

"It's okay if you are Eddie," Gareth tries again, a soft grunt joins the words, and Jeff mutters something in begrudging agreement.

Eddie laughs. 

He fucking laughs.

"You guys are hysterical, he's friends with the sheepies, and yeah he offered this house, why wouldn't we want to take advantage of it?"

Right.

Steve nods to himself, letting the last threads of hope tear apart, he slips away from the wall as quietly as possible and makes his way back to the sliding glass door, grateful he left it open, silently making his escape.

He closes it as quietly as possible and considers latching the door for a brief moment before scrubbing his hand roughly over his face. 

That was the old Steve talking, the one who would have locked the doors and kicked everyone out over something as trivial as someone not wanting to be his friend. The one who rejected others before they could reject him first, who wrapped himself in barbs and venom and sneered at people who were unapologetically different. Like Eddie.

But Eddie wasn't just someone, and Steve hadn’t been King of anything for a long time.

And, unless Eddie had forgotten, Steve was fairly certain they were friends, or at least it shouldn’t have been a completely unfounded thought that he and Eddie were at least on some kind of friendly terms.

Steve shakes his head and swallows the newly formed lump in his throat. 

He always did this, his heart ran ahead of his head and got itself hurt, again. At least this time he hadn’t made a complete fool of himself.

Steve sighs and tamps down the wave of hurt that sweeps through his chest, he shoves it into a corner, into a little box on its own, and shuts the lid. 

It was fine, he was fine. 

The kids have settled down at this point as Steve walks back towards the dining room table. Mike is laughing at something, Will's face has been removed from his hands and Dustin and Lucas are indulging in handfuls of chips from the bowls Steve had brought out earlier. One is nearly empty and at least Will has the good graces to look sheepish as he spots Steve walking in. 

"Sorry Steve," Will says with a soft smile, as he grabs the bowl to hand over, "We might have gotten a little carried away". 

Steve smiles but it's tight at the edges as he reaches out to take the bowl, he can feel Will's eyes on him as he moves to the other side of the table towards the kitchen door, "don't worry about it little Byers," Steve mumbles mostly to himself. He misses the worried glances that Will and Dustin exchange with one another as he walks back into the kitchen. 

Robin has left her perch on the counter to stand beside the oven, magazine in hand, she doesn't look up as he walks in and places the bowl on the counter. 

Robin looks over at the egg timer with narrowed eyes, "five more minutes, wanna have a look at em?" she hums as she puts the magazine on the counter, a picture of the Charlie's Angels graces the cover.

He shakes his head and grabs another bag of chips for the kids to put out, Steve resists the urge to pinch his nose --Robin knows him too well at this point to miss such a gesture. 

He clears his throat, "I'm sure they're good Robbie, let me just bring more fuel for the goblins out there". 

Steve meets her gaze for just a moment, her eyes narrow at him now and trace over his face. He rolls his shoulders, shaking off her stare and turns on his heel as Robin opens her mouth to say something, he beats her to the punch, "You stare any harder, you're going to turn into the Terminator scanning me like that Robbie”. 

It works for a moment, throwing her off kilter just enough for him to escape to the dining room as a laugh tumbles out of her open mouth.

The older boys have rejoined the group as Steve makes his way to the table with the refill, Dustin makes grabby-hands at the bowl which Steve hands over with a roll of his eyes. 

Jeff is seated next to Dustin, his eyes trail after Steve but his expression seems neutral enough for the moment. Gareth sits in between Will and Lucas, his gaze resting pensively on the figurine in his hands, he looks up when Steve enters and a small friendly smile slowly blooms, it settles Steve - just enough to allow a small smile back. 

Eddie stands on the far side of the table, where a binder has been propped up to block his notebooks and dice, his arms are crossed tightly across his chest and his shoulders form a stiff line. He’s frowning slightly at his books, if he sees Steve walk in he doesn’t acknowledge it.

 Steve's chest tightens at the sight, he gathers up the second wave of hurt and sweeps it away once again, latching the lid of the box this time.

How the hell did he read this so wrong? Where was the Eddie that shared in private jokes, leaning over to share an aside to Steve that was just for them, the one who called him Stevie and slung a warm arm around his shoulders as they watched bad movies late into the night.

Had he done something, Steve wonders? Something to piss Eddie off tonight? 

He wracks his brain, sifting through the events of the evening but nothing comes to mind. They had barely said two words to each other before Eddie had disappeared while Steve and Robin were cooking in the kitchen.

So where was this coming from?

Lucas leans over the mat on the table to snag another handful of chips,littering crumbs over the crudely drawn map and character models, Eddie tisks loudly and leans over to blow away the crumbs.

"You always get the best snacks man," Lucas says brightly through his mouthful to Steve, “and maybe even, make the best ones?” 

Dustin, Will, and Mike all turn expectantly to Steve, Dustin and Will with open hopeful expressions and even Mike has removed his perpetual scowl to look at Steve with something closer to begrudging anticipation.

“Yeah, it should be done right away here, gotta keep you assholes well fed before you go out and terrorize Waterdeep right?” Steve 

"Since when does King Steve know D&D?" Jeff asks with a laugh, his eyebrows crease together incredulously and he and Eddie share a look. 

“Jeff,” Gareth mutters at the same time that Dustin says, “I’ve been trying to convince Steve to play with us for ages but--”

“Pfft, Harrington? Play Dungeons and Dragons? I’d know if Hell had frozen over Dustin,” Eddie scoffs as he sits down roughly in his seat behind the binder, from where Steve is standing it obscures Eddie's face before he leans back in the dining chair. 

Right. 

Steve nods once and clears his throat before turning away from the kids, he avoids Dustin’s gaze which burns into the side of his face, “I think the timer is about to go, I’ll uh, be back in a sec”.

He walks swiftly in three strides towards the door, letting his foot catch it as it swings open with a thunk. 

“What the fuck Eddie,” Steve barely hear’s Mike’s muffled words through the closed door as he walks towards the counter and snatches the hot-cloth from where it lay next to the timer. They offer little comfort as he wrenches open the oven door.

“Steve?” Robin says softly, she’s using her wounded-bunny voice that he absolutely hates. He ignores it and the way it makes his chest clench again, the box is getting too full for this. 

“Steve,” Robin says again, she reaches out to touch his shoulder but he keeps moving and grabs the pan from the oven. A few of the pigs in a blanket are burnt, the dark brown, almost black, singing on the edges mars just of a few of them. 

It’s the last straw of the night. 

“Fuck,” he snarls, slamming the tray onto the stovetop with so much force that one of the pigs goes flying, he winces as it hits the floor. 

Steve bends in half to grab it, ignoring the sting as the hot pastry and meat connects with his fingers. He tosses it into the sink with a muffled metallic thud. 

“Jesus Steve,” Robin hisses at him, her eyes dart back and forth between his face and the closed kitchen door, “what the fuck happened in there?”

“Nothing Robin, just drop it,” Steve growls as he wrenches the cupboard open and takes out a large plate. He can’t do this now, not while everyone is still here.

“Steve?” a small voice says from the door, Dustin slowly walks into kitchen, approaching the pair of them like wild animals, “I wanted to--”

“Oh shit, right,” Steve says, deflating as he remembers. 

He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly through his nose before pulling out the small dwarf model from his pocket, Steve tosses it over to Dustin who just manages to catch it. 

“Sorry man,” Steve mumbles with a shake of his head as he schools his expression into something flatter, more neutral, “completely forgot about him, if you want to wait a second I’ll get these on a plate you can bring them over to everyone--”

“No, Steve--”

“I think we have mustard in the fridge and maybe a little relish left, I’m not sure what all goes with these guys,” Steve mutters, crossing to the fridge, he opens the door and sticks his head in.

“Steve--”

“Or what everyone else likes, um, you know what, just take all of these,” he sighs, gathering up the bottles and jars in his arms, he brings them over to the counter beside the plate and brings his foot back to kick the fridge door closed once more. 

Steve turns off the oven and haphazardly tosses the remaining pigs onto the plate before turning around to Dustin and Robin. Dustin’s face is pinched and red, his mouth cast into a deep troubled frown, while Robin scowls with narrowed eyes but the smallest hint of worry seeps through. 

“Anyway,” Steve mumbles, avoiding their gaze, “don’t destroy the house, just let me know when you go, and I’ll lock up”.

Steve sighs again and sweeps his hair away from his face, “I think I’m just going to go lay down for a bit, migraine,” he says, lifting his hand to gesture towards his forehead. 

It’s not even a lie, a steady ache has been building behind his eyes since he overheard the elder Hellfire members talking in the yard. He tosses the cloth in his hands on the counter and turns to the main hallway to head upstairs. 

“Have fun,” Steve says softly before sweeping away down the hallway. 

Steve makes it about halfway up the stairs before he hears light foot-falls on the carpet behind him, he glances over his shoulder to see Robin following silently. 

She’s still looking at him with an irritated scowl but her worried blue eyes undercut the ferocity he’s sure she is going for, Steve sighs and continues climbing, knowing she wouldn’t listen to him even if he told her to go. 

Steve opens his bedroom door and flips on the light for them, wincing at the sudden brightness, he closes his eyes and walks until his knees hit the bed and lets himself fall gracelessly onto the mattress. He hears Robin wander over to the desk lamp, turning it on with a small snick, she crosses the room again and flicks off the ceiling light before closing the door and joining him on the bed. 

“So,” she hums, prodding him roughly between the ribs with a rigid pointer finger, Steve jolts and makes a muffled squawk into the covers, “are you going to actually tell me what’s wrong or are you going to take it out on more pork products?”

Steve rolls over slowly onto his back before bringing his lower lip up to chew on. Robin’s eyes grow softer the longer he takes to speak, he has to tell her. 

“I was wrong Robin, we were wrong, he practically hates me,” Steve whispers to the ceiling, he feels her shift on the bed beside him, inching even closer. 

“Eddie??” Robin whispers as she reaches out to place her hand firmly on Steve’s chest and rubs a soothing circle over his heart, “you-- no, that’s not true”.

“I overheard him,” Steve says eventually, he clears his throat and reaches up to wipe his eyes which have begun to sting, damn migraine, “outside when I went to grab them, they were talking about me”.

Her hand freezes and her fingers clench into his sweater, Steve reaches up to gently pry her hand away, he offers a firm squeeze of her smaller palm. 

“What did he say Steve,” she whispers, her eyes dart over his face, as though cataloging each small change in his expression. 

Steve chews his lip again, this time, keeping a careful lock on the words before they tumble out, “just leave it alone Robbie,” he says softly, “I just want to forget this ever happened”.

Steve turns over onto his side, pillowing his head under his arm. He scootches over to make more room for her.

Robin hesitates for just a moment, turning towards the door with fire in her eyes, before Steve tugs on her hand, stealing her closer, down beside him.  

Robin sighs as she curls up, she reaches over with her one free hand and pokes his chest again, hitting him square in the sternum, “he didn’t deserve you anyway, he’s your Tammy Thompson,” Robin says shrewdly, nodding once to herself, “and my villain origin story,” she mutters after a beat, under her breath. 

Steve closes his eyes and nods silently, the words are meant to be comforting, he knows, but what little balm they contain do not help with the ache deep in his chest.

Steve opens his eyes as Robin kicks at his foot, probably harder than she means to, she at least has the good graces to look sorry. 

“I mean it dingus,” she murmurs, “I wouldn’t lie to you, and us single losers have to stick together after all”.

Steve laughs brightly and pulls her closer, letting himself bask in her warmth.

She wasn’t wrong, at least they had each other, and maybe, for now, that was enough.

You can read Part Two Here

[nevarroes]

[dariusaurs]

i think dinostar is such an interesting ship right now even if i've kind of turned away from it after this season. the problem is that it's complicated, and fandoms historically don't like nuanced situations or takes. i don't think it's fair to say darius is putting brooklynn on a pedestal, since from his perspective, she hasn't done anything wrong, and kenji has been framed as this unfair partner to her. it does feel like his feelings are very immature and more of an infatuation right now ("if he loved you half as much.."/"unless?"), especially when you compare them to kenji's own feelings for brooklynn - his girlfriend who he's loved for 6 years - but that isn't a horrible thing, it's just different. i do completely understand if people dislike the ship right now, and even criticize darius' way of handling the accidental confession, but i just think people have been way too harsh on all three of them without being willing to see that all of their perspectives are different

[moeblob]

Lil warm up doodle because I'd been playing some Thropes and then watched some dubbed DunMeshi and am a Damien Haas enjoyer so. Enjoy a Shez.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Just popping in to say i LOVE UR ART SO MUCH WAUGH!!!! Its soooooooo exoressive and u get across emotion and movement SO WELL!! I love ...littlr apple ...so much.....u imbue this donkey with Such Chaos

I love this little chaos creature, we should all forfeit our mortal possessions to her.

[welcometogrouchland]

[ID: a sketch page of various drawings of Willow Park from the owl house. From left to right the drawings are: timeskip willow playing flyer derby, Willow in her season 1 casual outfit next to her in her season 3 Halloween costume, Willow as Anne in an amphibia au, young willow doing pottery with her dad Gilbert, young willow and amity holding hands/hugging and smiling, and willow looking at clover, who's perched on her finger and wearing a dress and wig made of yarn so as to resemble Willow. Willow is trying to hold back laughter while clover looks unamused. In the center is a drawing of Willow drawing a large spell circle with her staff, and the title of the sketch page reads "willow week 2023", with each drawing labeled as a specific day/prompt, such as day 3: flyer derby/fav on-screen outfit, day 1: crossover, day 2: childhood/father-daughter, or day 1: palismen bonding. Drawings 2, 6, and 7 are coloured while the rest are uncoloured. The background is a scribbly green. End ID]

hi I’m only a month or so late to it BUT! Nearly out of the mines (finals) and that means i can post the sketch page i worked on for Willow Week! Hosted by @agrebel18

[nomazee]

a month ago i said i would yell about misogyny and patriarchal themes in fanfiction and eventually i will but there are so many thoughts and feelings in my head that it will take me forever to type it down. But i will say this

Be critical of the things you read. i’m not saying you CANT read for enjoyment—you CAN and SHOULD read for fun. But i’m saying that sometimes you should take notice of the themes in writing and think “wow, i wonder why that’s written like that. Is this harmful or is this helpful?”

it’s a given that fanfiction is widely heteronormative because society and media blah blah blah We know all of this … but in my opinion i think it’s important to think about why women in hetero fics are portrayed the way they are sometimes. I think reader insert fics have gone a long way in being more inclusive and less harmful than they were years ago BUT. Do not let that stop you from recognizing themes in the works you read right now

like; Why are misogyny-affected people written a certain way?? Why are there often degrading themes in a lot of tropes and fics regarding women?? Why are there certain roles that misogyny affected people are expected to fulfill even in fiction?? why are women often the “default” for fics with male characters?? think about any of these questions for like longer than two minutes, read a bad fic, and you will probably see where i’m coming from

[seagull-scribbles]

Based on a Casey and Raph fic called “come and leave your mark’’ by @several-sleepless-nights

[sandymybeloved]

absolutely dreading the finale at this point, like I don't want to assume it'll be bad but rtd finales are not it. oh no, just realised we're going to have to deal with them until the next showrunner arrrrgggghhhhh

guess i'll just try to be happy for everyone who enjoys these spectacles where rtd writes himself into a corner and has to deus ex machina his way out then takes far too long to wrap the episode up

[waterfallofspace]

30 + 46 for v/ashw/ood (with v/ash sneezing) if you feel like it? I love what you’ve been writing for these!

Thank you for the ask, non!! and I'm so glad you've been enjoying them~~ Here is some V/ashwood, and I decided to make them actually an item for this one just for the heck of it, so hopefully that's acceptable hehe~ (Not confirmed dating, but they do kiss, so you can think of it as 'actual boyfriends' or just 'they kiss but haven't talked about it', whatever you would like!) 1.8k, prompts 30 and 46, story under cut! 30. “What’s got you all worked up?” 46. Touching their nose leading to a sneeze (References to swearing and tiny mention of drinking, just in case anyone doesn't like those!)

~~~~~~~

“ketNG’uhh-!” 

“ehTDGnn’huh-!”

"hh’nGkT-!”

By the third, Wolfwood’s book is forgotten on the table, attention solely on the spiky haired man lounging on the couch next to him. In response to his intense gaze, Vash blushes, then raises a fist to crush his nose as another breaks through his defenses.

“haH’EnxgD’uhh-!”

“Are ya almost finished, blondie? My reading is slightly disturbed by the constant noise.” 

A sheepish grin is the response, Vash pawing at his nose once more in what Wolfwood can only assume is an attempt to starve off further interruptions. ‘I don’t think he’s sick, he’d be practically quarantining himself to avoid getting us all sick like usual by now.’ 

“Yeah- yeah, sorry. I’m all done.”

“If you say so.”

Just as the book enters Wolfwood’s hands he hears Vash’s breath catch. His eyebrows climb seemingly on their own as he meets Vash’s gaze over the book.

“You sure you’re done?” 

“heHh-! Yea- aHHhh-! Okay fine, I lied, s- sorry I have to- heh’NGTzz’uh-! knDT’huh-!” 

“Don’t need to ‘pologize, it’s just sneezing.” 

“ndJZT-! Thanks, sor- I mean, uh, thanks..? Or maybe I should sa-”

“Spikey, you’re making my head spin. Just take a breath, you ain’t in trouble.” 

Wolfwood retorts, not missing the wince Vash lets out as he attempts to inhale through his nose. ‘Obviously congested. Given the way he’s holding those in, I’m surprised his head ain’t exploded yet.’ 

“hH’dNch’taa-!”

“Alright, what’s got you all worked up?”

“Wha- nothing, I’m alright, nothing’s up. haH’INgtchaa-! heHh-! Ihh… hehH-! hNGT-!guhhh…” 

The heady sigh that follows sends shivers up Wolfwood’s spine. ‘Christ, if that made me uncomfortable, the hell is it doing to him? Guess I smacked him a little too hard last time he let one out, slapped the common sense right out of his head. The whole point was that we were hiding, not that he was sneezing.’ And yet, instead of voicing his concern, Wolfwood takes a role he finds easier, letting a witty retort slide out. 

“Well that’s obviously not nothing. I wasn’t born yesterday needle noggin, despite you apparently thinkin’ I was.”

Pausing for a second, Wolfwood lets the concern bubbling up in his chest spill over into his tone, placing a hand on Vash’s leg, eyes softening.

“Just tell me what’s wrong. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s happening.” 

“Okay, alright… I might be just a touch sensitive…” 

“Common knowledge.”

Vash lets out a grin, raising a hand to his chest mockingly, before his rambling continues, leg starting to shake, bringing the couch along with him. Trying to maintain focus, Wolfwood can feel his attention being drawn to the vibrations. Something within him stirs, memories starting to flood into his mind. The car shaking around him, watching Vash sleep, the way his tongue dips out against his lips whenever they hit a bump… ‘Damn it, focus!’ 

“Ouch, Nicholas. What I meant was- well okay maybe it’s easier to explain- well see- hold on… eh’KnDG’taa-! Scuse me, sorry, so what happened was, well-” 

“Just spit it out already, blondie. Beginning to feel like a rock during an earthquake over here.” 

A blush starts to pierce its way through Vash’s soft features, a warm tint mirroring the action on Wolfwood’s own cheeks. ‘Why does he look so damn adorable when he’s blushing? It’s wholly unfair. How’s a man supposed to stand firm when the accused looks so-’ 

“Meryl bought some kind of new spray”

The voice slices through his thoughts, sending Wolfwood careening back into the conversation. 

“What?”

“She bought this new spray, I think it might be a perfume, but it might also be something for the car… all I know is she was using it earlier and I’m-” 

A silence settles, Wolfwood finding himself watching Vash’s face contort as another sneeze works its way through his system. ‘It starts with his nose scrunching, then his eyes flutter, but they don’t shut. He’s fighting it, his hand comes up to rub it away, but the action only leads to his chest shaking… likely he just made the tickle worse. Then, sensing defeat, he’ll pinch his nose shut and-’ 

“INgT-!”

‘But his nose isn’t so easily satisfied. He barely gets another breath in before-’

“heH’KNDT-!uhh…” 

‘And since he’s still not let it out, there’s gonna be a thir-’ 

‘H’AInG’taa-!” 

‘So far there’s always been at least three.’ 

“Slightly allergic.” 

“‘Slightly allergic’, huh? Just when did you come in contact with this spray?”

“M- maybe an hour ago..?” 

“And you’re still sneezing this much? That’s hardly ‘slight’, Vash.” 

At the sound of his name, Wolfwood watches Vash’s face darken three shades, a bright smile bursting onto his cheeks. It’s quickly quelled by the incessant tickle returning once more, eyes going blank as his mouth tips open.

“hh’GnDT-! aINGT’uhh-! haH’DTN’shh-!”

“Bless you.”

“Thanks, sorry. It really isn’t that bad, I promise, it’s just that… well… I came in here immediately after, and you were here already, so…”

“So?” “It’s a bit embarrassing…” 

Wolfwood laughs, gesturing to Vash with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

“Trust me, I’ve dealt with embarrassing. Have you seen you after a few too many drinks? You were hitting on a rock for almost 20 minutes.”

The comments trigger a deeper blush, Vash lightly swatting at his arm, but they seem to serve their purpose. His eyes have lost the hint of anxiety they were holding before, replacing it with an air of warmth that’s so distinctly Vash. 

“I just need to… sneeze it out. It usually stops after that.”

“That’s all? In that case, I doubt holdin’ em in like you’ve been doin’ is helping remedy the situation.” 

“N- not exactly… but it’s a habit!”

“Where was this ‘habit’ when we were hiding?”

Vash’s response is to rub his nose again, a timid whine escaping as he lets out a “That happened one time…” in reply. Wolfwood smirks, raising himself from the chair and strutting over to the couch, perching beside him, prompting Vash to sit up.

“What are yo-”

Wolfwood silences him by resting a finger between his eyes, laughter vibrating his chest as Vash attempts to cross his eyes to get a better look. Slowly Wolfwood lets his finger trace the bridge of Vash’s nose, the appendage trembling at the attention. He pauses right before the tip, making sure Vash meets his gaze.

“Don’t you dare hold these in, blondie. This is a one time deal, I won’t be offering this service again.”

A nod is all he gets in reply, Vash’s tongue sticking out between his teeth as he gasps, the hitchy quality of each inhale suggesting nodding is all he’s able to manage. Wolfwood responds by tapping the tip, letting his finger brush against his flaring nostrils as he pull away. The result is instant.

“heIShh’aa-! heh’aiyshh’oo-!” 

Vash manages to get his arm up in time to cover the third, “eH’GNshH’iuhh-!” gesturing frantically at Wolfwood for something better to cover with.

“Nic- hddjzshhh’oo-! hh’AIYDZshh’oo-! Nicholas- hAiYshh’aa-! T-tihhSHH’oo-!” 

“Managing to ask for a tissue with a sneeze, pretty impressive, blondie.”

The watery glare he’s met with is entirely for show, the giggle between shaky exhales giving away the truth. ‘He never was able to hide what he really felt. I used to think it was a curse, but the more time I spend with him, the more I’m beginning to think it’s a gift. One I don’t share.’ 

“eHH’GZshh’oo-! Nico, pleaahhh-! Please! hh’DjZshh’aa-!”

“Huh? Oh, right, sorry. I just have a couple napkins I swiped from the car, but they’re clean, if you wan-”

He’s cut off as Vash grabs them, face never leaving his arm. Wolfwood finds himself rubbing loose circles on Vash’s back, chuckling lightly at the groan that escapes after the deep blow. Brushing away the hairs that fell loose during the fit, Wolfwood offers a murmured blessing.

“Bless you.” 

“Th- thank you… and uh… sorry about- eH’dzShh’aa-! Well, that… I know it’s gros-” 

Wolfwood cuts him off with an eye roll, grabbing Vash’s arm and dragging him into a deep kiss. It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last, but without fail Vash collapses into the embrace every time it occurs. And, without fail, Wolfwood has to break it so they can both breathe, Vash seemingly content to faint in order to keep their lips touching.

“You’re not gross, blondie. Not to me.”

“Tha-”

“Plus, your sneezes are frankly adorable. Nothing compared to mine.”

A melodic laugh dances out of Vash’s chest, Wolfwood finding himself enchanted by the sound. The warmth in his chest spreads to his ears as Vash giggles out-

“I remember the first time you had a cold, nearly killed us all!”

“Hey, it ain’t my fault Meryl’s so jumpy. Woman nearly crashed us into a fucking rock because I had to clear my sinuses.”

Vash laughs harder, tears starting to sprout in the corners of his eyes as he leans into Wolfwood for support. ‘I could listen to this sound forever… if this was the only thing I got to hear for the rest of my life, I would be content.’ 

“heH’aizshh’oo-!”

“Bless you. Not quite done, then?”

“Just a couple leftover tickles, I promise.” 

His nose still has a pink flush, but Wolfwood notices the twitching has stopped, so he decides to take Vash at his word for now. ‘Though if this interaction has been anything to go on, I’d better get that spray away from Meryl before she sparks another reaction. I doubt he has the self preservation to say anything himself.’

“I’ll have a talk with Meryl about not using that spra-”

“No! Nicholas you can’t! She was so excited, and she’ll feel so bad if she finds out, I can’t do that to her over a few sneezes, really, I’ll be fine!”

“Alright, alright. Jeez blondie, don’t blow a fuse. I’ll keep your secret. For now, you should go change. You probably still have some of that spray lingering on your clothes.”

“heH’iDZshh’aa-! I hadn’t even thought of that.”

A smirk works its way over Vash’s face, eyes lit with mischief that, frankly, still sets Wolfwood’s chest on fire, no matter how many times he sees it. As Vash practically purrs out his question, Wolfwood finds himself resisting the urge to pin him to the couch to kiss him again.

“Can I borrow another one of your shirts?”

In lieu of a response, Wolfwood stands, heading towards his room, Vash in toe. As they pass Meryl’s, Wolfwood lets a plan form. ‘If Meryl just happens to misplace the spray, Vash gets to keep being the good guy, Meryl doesn’t have to feel bad, and I don’t have to watch him attempt to subdue another attack. Everybody wins.’ 

Glancing back at Vash’s slightly pink nose as he attempts to rub it against his shoulder while walking, unsuccessfully, Wolfwood lets a smirk flash across his features once more, dropping a step, hand grabbing Vash’s with a light squeeze. 

‘If this is what my life’s been leading to, well… I guess it was worth it after all.’ 

[killianhemlock]

this is like the third time ive said this,,, and im ognna be honest,, but i'm starting to think yet again that we aren't so back

the fact he just sits on this character makes me want to cry (/hj). being a fan of media that the creator doesnt see the vision and just. sits on a character without doing anything with them. is so painful

its even worse than a corporate greed thing. its just some person telling a story. no budget cuts or cancelling. its just,,, lack of inspiration. And lack of positive reinforcement I guess ??? Lack of creativity ?? that sounds negative,,,

Every time he talks about it on stream I want to explode. It's tiring for him and a hassle to think about.

I genuinely feel like the only Link Winters fan at this point and I know that is SO incorrect LMFAO but goddamn dude I have yet to find someone who was a frequent Link POV watcher and actively engaged with the fanbase around him AND CONTINUES TO.

(uh if anyone feels like that describes themselves,,,,, dm me,,,,)

might be biased but i genuinely cannot understand how someone can be uninspired by his character or feel as if theres no arcs or plot points available for him. If he was uninspiring THEN I WOULDNT HAVE A BLOG DEDICATED TO HIM. im killing you with hammers there are wild animals outside your house

[sweetestdumpling]

Extend your arm forward, control your breathing, pull back, contain your emotions.

It was simple instructions, ones she used to only think about in the moment, but forget the second her attention was grabbed by something else.

Even with the growing noise around her, she never stopped her movements, keeping her focus and breathing even. That is, until she felt a light tap of a finger on her thigh.

"Excuse me, Jiějiě..." It was the voice of a young girl. Almost immediately, Xiaoyu opened her eyes and got into a standing position before looking down at her with a smile.

"Yes?"

The girl looked nervous, but there was no need for her to be. Xiaoyu gave her time to gather her thoughts, which didn't take very long, before she held her hands out towards her with a shy smile.

"I made you some bracelets! It's a present...as a thank you for everything you've done, a-and helping me."

"For me? Ah, Xièxiè! You're so sweet!" Xiaoyu gently took one of the bracelets, holding it up to the sun. It was stitched together with orange yarn, and what seemed to be glitter sparkling in the sunlight.

"I know it's not...exactly the best and it...might be a little tight since I didn't know your size but I wanted to share something with you..."

The girl shyly looked down, perhaps embarrassed by her stitching, but Xiaoyu easily placed it on her wrist.

"Fits like a glove!"

The girl seemed to beam at that, Xiaoyu quickly grabbing the other one and holding it out for her to place her hand through. Once the girl realized this, she eagerly placed her hand through.

"Hehe, see? We match!"

The girl laughed, something Xiaoyu hasn't heard in a while. It felt good to see her happy again.

"If...If I make you anything else, will you wear it?"

"Of course! I want to see how much your embroidery improves. Before long, you'll be teaching me something!"

"Me? Teaching you?" The girl sounded in disbelief.

"Yep! I was never good with my hands, at least with silk and a needle. It wasn't until Yéyé stepped in did I know what to do with them."

At the mention of him, the girl's mood seemed to dampen. It wasn't her intention but Xiaoyu couldn't blame her for it either. Jinrei knew how to make a name for himself, ever since he was young. Not having his spunk around anymore left an obvious hole, one that Xiaoyu didn't realize she missed until it was already too late.

"I miss him." The young girl's voice interrupted Xiaoyu's thoughts. She gave her a smile, and a gentle pat on the head.

"I do too. But it'll be okay, next time we meet up, I'll teach you a few things about stances while you keep teaching and showing me your sewing skills. Deal?"

"Deal!"

Xiaoyu held her pinky out, the young girl using her own pinky to complete the deal. After a few more exchanges, Xiaoyu waved the girl goodbye, watching her disappear in the distance before sighing.

She sat down on the grass, listening to everything around her this time. The wind, the laughter, the talking, the birds, the whistling.

She was spunky when she was young, childish too, maybe she got it from him. Xiaoyu didn't know anything about his life when he was younger, but she knew he got his wisdom from somewhere. She only learned about his connections to the Mishima family once she was older.

Maybe she would have turned out to be more traditional if he wasn't around, maybe she would have eventually gotten better with her sewing skills like her parents initially wanted.

Xiaoyu was loud, rambunctious, maybe even a troublemaker compared to her more relaxed parents. They didn't know what to do with her, so eventually, he would suggest her to put all that energy into fighting.

It was thanks to him that they changed their minds.

"I'm still learning, Yéyé. I've gotten better but...I still have a lot to learn. I won't let you down, I promise."

Her phone soon began to vibrate, the young girl glancing down to see a message from her father. She quickly took hold of it, seeing the time, and immediately letting out a yell.

"Ah, I'm late! They're gonna kill me!"

Metaphorically of course. Xiaoyu quickly gathered up her things, haphazardly placing her jacket into the bag as she stood to her feet, running off and away from the park. Eyes watched her curiously but she paid them no mind as she answered her phone.

"Yes, Bàba? No, I didn't oversleep, it's still..." She checked her watch. "...well, not morning anymore but it's not late! It's only after 12! I'm on my way right now! I'll pick up some jianbing on the way! Tell Māmā not to start without me!"

Maybe there were still quite a few things she needed to get better with.

[cyberkn1fe]

4 possible party members. You can only take 2 of them with you on missions. All with unique interactions, chatter between each other and puzzle solutions. That's 6 possible walkthroughs alone if you stick to specific two the whole game

Then there's also 3 origin stories for the protagonist, all of which affect the story to a degree

The game is an indie. All of the above isn't documented that well

Perfectionist brain demands making full records and cataloguing of all possible options. I tell it we do not have time or resources for that. Perfectionist brain says well it's gonna bother you otherwise. A lot. So have fun with that

F

[arolesbianism]

Yet another beautiful day to have the Maxwel tag blocked (can't see half of the posts in the Wendy tags)

[713-4th-ward-g]

.

[steelycunt]

bread today ‼️ making bread again today ‼️