#OKAY WELL YOU DID
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i know everyone is praising ify for how he’s playing this season and i do think he is slaying but some of his moves kinda bother me😭😭😭i didn’t like how he took all the drug juice i feel like brennan obviously had a plan for how that was gonna work with persimmon dead AND everyone would’ve got a cool moment with the drugs but he kinda just took it :/ obviously it worked out and it did lead to that convo w liv and russell but idk i felt like jacob in that moment and i’m not even playing LMAO like i would rather have just seen what brennan was gonna do and got to see how everyone was gonna take it
#also with ify i fucking hate his vin diesel impression LMAO#i know that’s a super unpopular opinion and i’m FINE with that i just think it’s so cringey im SORRY#it’s probably cause i’ve never seen fast and furious and i never will cause that shit looks stupid asf#i love nsbu but i HATE actual action movies so some of his moves that are objectively cool give me the ick#jacob looked so upset too#like he really wanted to do something cool with the drug juice#i know what it’s called but i’m not attempting to spell that shit#and ify was like trust me! then did something stupid#then when he was gm and only took 3 bottles😭😭😭😭#BITCH TAKE 6#“i didnt want to do too much#OKAY WELL YOU DID#he better give one of those bottles to jacob or i stg#honestly if he keeps one for himself that’s kind of so annoying too#idk why i’m hating so much AH it’s not that deep it just irked me#never stop blowing up#d20#dimension 20#brennan lee mulligan#ify nwadiwe#nsbu spoilers
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bring back zooterkins, the best 17th-century swear word
I don't normally do Just Characters Swearing, but. ...this kind of wrote itself and then wouldn't leave my head. it comes from both a piece of character-writing advice that has always stuck with me, and also my conviction that Leona is 1000% funnier as a character if his dialogue has to stay G-rated. let Kalim say fuck, but don't let Leona say bastard.
(I'm sorry)
#art#twisted wonderland#(sort of atemporally somewhere between episodes 6 and 7?)#(i - i wanted that lilia joke okay)#long post#tumblr went 'you can post up to 30 images now :)' and i was like well okay then#anyway once again i'm sorry#i'd say i don't know why i did this but actually it is because i wanted kalim to scandalize everyone#i tried to keep it...you know...tasteful. a tasteful amount of fucks.#hey remember how the framing premise for the original birthday interviews was that yuu worked for the school paper#because i have never forgotten. in my head they are still getting up to all kinds of wacky reporting hijinks.
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would you bite the hand that feeds you?
#pearlescentmoon#smajor1995#wild life smp#namemc spoilers#i hope these two never get along in the storyline i find them fascinating#OKAY SO#originally i had this sketch back in session 2 when scott manages to throw her something actually edible JUST IN TIME#and now with the namemc spoilers of pearl ACTUALLY having a yellow eye which does! kind of match scotts esp since he died for this#i figured itd be an appropriate time#i did edit it though the original was pearl eating smth#now do i think scott and pearl has had any Major (heh) interactions to warrant this fanart in WL?#frankly no LMAO theyve been very civil you go guys . but i like the dynamics between them anyway#also i finally got a piece with scott!!! hes been very hard to draw goodness#anyway long rambly tags#eydidraws#my art#mcyt#trafficblr#galaxyduo#majormoon#** i say civil because its just been more on verbal light jabs at each other rather than anything Really significant ?#and well. its obvious all 3Gs are being very careful around each other which makes me JUST A L IL SAD#id love to see them let loose and be vicious but i also understand the angle theyre coming from#anyway can you tell i like the 3g dynamics
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ṇ̵̛̱͌̅̃͛̔o̴̮̓̀͂́̃_̴̛̲́s̷͈̋̈́̄̋͠ị̶͔̗̐͐̐̒̕g̵̛̱̘̣̑͂ņ̴̰͔̘͇̏̒̓̇͠͝a̸̜̥̩̭͋̌ḷ̶͔̖͗͋͛͛̃͆
#my art#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk fanart#jujutsu kaisen fanart#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#geto suguru#satosugu#jjk gojo#eye strain/#eye horror/#like i said ik this concept has been done before and probably better than this but i hope that i did it Okay#i hope all the eye strain was not in vain gjhfgsh the amount of blue light in this image is not recommended by doctors#smh gojo ipad baby confirmed#too much screentime.png#in other news im happy i came up with smth else 2 put alongside the piece itself !!#was playing around with filters and effects and i was like ooh what does the binarization button do#makes it look like found footage is what it does i love it SO much#i almost like it better than the coloured version but i would rather die than let a day and a half of rendering go to waste#esp after i already scrapped the intended p2#still i would have posted the full b/w one side by side but it made the post look so busy and distracting and awful#so it's just geto's face ig smile :)#happy i stuck it out w this!!!#fr all i dunk on gojo gdi his aesthetic n design works so well with glitches and messed up technology#tb to tht other gojo + teal + glitches piece i did frever ago captioned smth like 'watch what you eat'#the glitch brushes in my inventory exist fr him and him alone
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Asexual bird? Please
How about two asexual birds?
#ask#art request#my art#art#superb fairywren#fairywren#penguin#little penguin#australian little penguin#fairy penguin#ace#asexual#ace pride#bird art#birds#queer art#pride art#digital art#pride month#lgbtqia+#lgbtq+#queer#critter series#you get two because i couldn't decide which one i wanted to do more so i decided just to do both because i love them both#and also once i realised the fairy name connection between them i couldn't not do them together#okay well technically they're officially called little penguins but i've always know them as fairy penguins#there is actually a lot of them in the state i live. i just haven't had the chance to spot any in the wild yet#but i did see them at the sydney aquarium once. they are such lil' cuties. big fan of penguins me.#as for fairywrens. well i see 'em all the time fluttering about. definitely one of my favourite types of birds#anyway that's enough about what i like. i hope *you* like them too bluesky :3
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Drew this real quick because I fucking love these two so much ???? Especially Bee. I wish they interacted more so badly. PLEASE.
Also learning how to draw these guys.. slowly.
#IT WILL NEVER NOT BE FUNNY TO ME HOW DELIGHTED B GOT ??? FOR VIOLENCE?#the brainrotsreal's art tag ✧˖°:*♡#like okay you have d17/megatron okay#d17 got consumed by vengeance. iconic of him. you SEE him grow more ruthless/ violent........AND THEN YOU HAVE B 127#he got knife hands for 0.00937 seconds and immediately KILLED PEOPLE SO EASILY IM SCREAMING SDJKJSDS#did by accident and then did it gleefully. AND SO WELL TOO LIKE ???? bro got that hunger for violence ig. got that delight.#i wish we got to see d17 and b127 interact more cause imagine b got his knife hands early and d17 was like.... alright start stabbing#and b127 is LONELY. mf is deprived of interaction and CLEARLY clingy. i see him telling d17 to stand down so he isn't hurt.#not necessarily because he has the SAME morals as orion/optimus#like look me in my eye. tell me if d17 didn't say something like “needing an ally not a leader” (friendship bait)#AND UR TELLING ME BEE WOULDN'T FOLD AND HELP HIM? HM? HMMMMMMMM?#like i feel like b's morals are mostly match whoever he's around. if he was around d-17 more? WELP? let's assassinate together bestie!#anyways optimus and elita gotta watch b fr cause mf is already an incredible ally on the battle field SDKJKDSS#like just tell him where to go and that place would DESTROYED. NO WITNESSEES LEFT. LIKE HELLO#transformers one my beloved#d 16#megatron#tf one#tf one megatron#tf one b 127#b 127#transformers one fanart#never know how many actual tags to use istg.#imagine being isolated for years and all that shit went down like what is going on in b's brain rn. mf got 3 friends and then lost one#SO QUICKLY
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Saw the sonic 3 trailer are you telling me the movie based on Sonic Adventure 2 is Not anti-military??? No anti-authority theming here?? Nothing?? The game where a kid gets gunned down? Where Shadow’s grief and hate for humanity is BECAUSE of the military?? Where Sonic runs from the cops and is consistently annoyed at their existence?
#sonic 3 spoilers#sonic 3 trailer#Sonic 3 trailer spoilers#I’m. just confused.#I don’t understand#WHERES AMY N ROUGE AS WELL bad day for women Jesus Christ#YOU COULD SO EASILY FIT THEM IN THE MOVIE THO. LIKE YOU CAN EASILY PUT THEIR NARRATIVES IN THERE TO COINCIDE WITH SONIC N SHADOW’S#the GAME DID IT. WHATS YOUR EXCUSE#we’re not gonna see Sonic get arrested. are we gonna see the fucked up prison cell of Gerald. probably not#I have Thoughts okay#I ramble
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Hey, don't cry. Ghost yuri, okay?
(Now that you know the girls, they need to meet the boys!)
#payneland#edwin x charles#dead boy detectives#dbda#fem payneland#although technically as everyone is the opposite gender their last names should be different#OKAY you know the drill u get fanart and i get to ramble about it#Edith wears pants now#this pains me because i love drawing skirts but after she escaped hell#she met charlotte who made an offhand comment about how it's easier to move with pants#and edith who just spent 70 years running in hell went wait a tick#she feels safer that way is what i'm saying#interesting because as you can see she wore a skirt to confess and we know how THAT went but anyway#charlotte's mom was abusive of course#and she forced her to practice ballet despite charlotte being interested in a lot of other sports#she did fairly well at ballet but this means no cricket bat :(#i know we all love butch fem charles but as he's mostly gender conforming i decided to not do that#no reason for the bracelets but as i wanted to give her a choker i thought they would combine with the earrings#crystal is still crystal because his parents are weird artists who like stupid names#niko though... i don't know what to name him#dead girl detectives
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billford comic because i love gay people because i am gay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! im havign so much fun doodling them
(cw for suggestive stuff!!!!)
#did i waste 3 days doodling billford all day and completely neglecting my studies?#well yes but you see its okay because its BILLFORD#anyways. aziracrow au where theyre actually bill and ford-#billford#stanford pines#bill cipher#gravity falls#🐛
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a non-comprehensive guide to my favourite characters in claymore, the best manga you've never read (more under the cut)
don't know what I'm talking about? here's a crashcourse.
#disclaimer: 60% of the added detail is under the cut is my own personal headcanon but im also just correct#anyway#blatantly copying my best friend's template for when they did it for their favourite niche media#its so fun to make art for stuff not that many people know about. im free from the shackles of expecting an audience#this is just for me#also. one of these things is not like the other. hi dauf#“why didnt you draw rigardo too” because i just dont find him that interesting :/ sorry dude#killer performance at pieta! still the most underwhelming member of the first generation#hm....what else#im surprised at how claymore never experienced a resurgence in popularity. in a perfect world this shit does numbers on sapphic tumblr#but oh well#its been 10 years but im still here#i will singlehandedly bring about the claymore renaissance if i have to#okay time for general tags >#claymore#norihiro yagi#manga#teresa of the faint smile#clare claymore#irene claymore#quicksword irene#miria claymore#phantom miria#helen claymore#deneve claymore#ophelia claymore#rippling ophelia#jean claymore#drillsword jean#god eye galatea
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who did this to you. part 2
🤍🌷 read part 1 here pre-s4, steve whump, protective (but scared) eddie
This is not happening. None of this is happening, he’s… He’s dreaming. He’s high. High as a kite somewhere where reality doesn’t matter, where it can’t fucking reach him and he’s— He’s not panicking behind the wheel with Steve Fucking Harrington bleeding against the passenger side window.
It’s not happening.
Because if it were happening, Eddie would simply throw up. He’d leave his van on the side of the road and run the fuck away. Away from Harrington and his trouble, away from his rattling breath that’s so loud and unsteady, Eddie doesn’t even dare to turn on any sort of music, even though he’s itching for it, his hands clenching and unclenching around the wheel until his knuckles go white.
“Shit, shit, shit,” he mumbles under his breath, barely aware of his surroundings at all, his eyes flitting from Harrington to the red stain against the window, back to the road and then down to the white-knuckled grip and the speckles of dried blood that is decidedly not his.
Lost in his panic and disbelief, Eddie almost runs a red light.
It’s harsh, the way he hits the brakes, and the sound Harrington makes is pathetic enough that Eddie feels like maybe this might actually be happening.
“Sorry,” he breathes, his voice no better than Steve’s — and he’s not the one with a concussion, a broken rib, and that… fucking fear. Of something. Or someone.
Who’s hurting you, Steve?
Jus’ everyone, sometimes. God you don’t… You don’t even know.
He doesn’t even know. He doesn’t wanna know. All he wants is for Harrington to stop fucking bleeding, to keep his eyes wide open and—
“Ed,” the boy says, wheezes, and it sounds like he wanted to say his full name, but had to swallow first. Blood, Eddie thinks. Don’t let it be blood. “Think I’m… ‘M gonna throw up.”
“Please don’t throw up,” Eddie says before he can stop himself, hating how small his voice sounds, how urgent — like that’s the thing to be urgent about. God, he’s such an ass, but he… If Harrington throws up, Eddie will lose it. He knows he will.
He chances a glance over at Steve, who has somehow managed to get his right arm tangled with the handle at the door, keeping himself upright and safe from Eddie’s rather frantic driving style. His head is drooping, moving this way and that against the red-stained glass, and he blinks unseeingly as blood begins to trickle down from his nose and temple again.
He’s making himself small, and Eddie wants to pull him upright and tell him to stay like that, tell him to stop looking so terrible, so horrible, so…
So much like Eddie’s fucking problem.
He hates it. Hates everything about that vision. Boys like Harrington shouldn’t look like this, shouldn’t hold themselves like this, shouldn’t… Shouldn’t have no one but Eddie to take them somewhere safe.
It’s just not tight.
“Don’ wanna throw up,” Steve says at last, the pause too long for Eddie’s liking, and he sounds so solemn about it, yet so helpless, and Eddie kinda wants to scream. Wants Harrington to scream. Anything to stay awake and maybe not ruin his car. Anything to not fucking die in it.
“Tell me something,” he says then, because he knows he has to keep Harrington awake and speaking. Just for another ten, fifteen minutes, he tells himself. “Anything, yeah? Tell me anything. Gotta keep you awake there, you hear me? Sounds great, right, staying awake?”
He’s rambling and he knows it, desperation shining through his words and the god-awful way his voice breaks a little. This is not about him, he knows it isn’t, but still he wants to punch himself, wants to pinch himself and stay fucking calm.
But who could stay calm in a situation like this? The silence is filled with the horrible wheezing and rattling of Harrington’s breath barely audible over the engine, and Eddie has to look over several times to make sure he’s still there, still with him, still alive. His panic spikes each time.
He’s just about to reach over and shake him a little, snap in front of his face to get him back, when—
“I don’t know what.”
It’s quiet, that voice, breathy and tiny and almost invisible, and Eddie wants to scream again.
Tell me why you’re so scared. Tell me why your old buddy did this to you. Hagan would never touch you, so why did he now? Tell me what happened to Hargrove. Tell me why you sound so fucking small.
“Tell me about your…” He fumbles for a moment, taking a sharp left and pretending not to hear the choked-off whimper. Focusing on good things. On normal things. “Your favourite person.”
Eddie cringes at himself the moment the words leave his mouth. Your favourite person? Really, Munson? He scrambles to find something better, something cooler, or maybe something easier like asking his favourite fucking colour, but the overthinking really doesn’t mix well with the already panicked state of his mind. And Eddie just blanks.
Beside him, though, Harrington sits up a little straighter, smearing more blood against his window in the process that Eddie pretends not to feel nauseous about.
God, he never did like blood.
“You wan’ me to tell you ‘bout Rob?”
“Sure, yeah,” Eddie says, a little too loud, a little too shrill, actually running a red light this time because he doesn’t want to brake again and hurt the boy some more. There’s no one around anyway. This is Hawkins. Fucking dead-end of a town. It doesn’t need red lights, or boys who look like Harrington. “Rob. Tell me ‘bout him, what’s he like? Favourite colour, all that shit.”
“Her.”
Eddie blinks, looking over to find Harrington looking at him — or trying to, his eyes still drooping and empty. But it’s a good sign. People don’t die when they look at you, right?
“What?”
“Her,” Harrington says again. “An’ blue. Deep ‘n’ dark blue. She’ll say something corny when, when you ask her, jus’ to fuck with you. Sunset gold or rose, jus’ to mess with… But is blue.”
Eddie doesn’t really listen, doesn’t really process what Steve is saying, already thinking of the next question just to keep him talking. But then he continues on his own.
“Mornin’ blue dep— de… makes her sad, though. So only dark blue. Says it’s why we’re friends. You’re so blue, Stevie. Got half’a my clothes, still, she does. All the blues.”
That's... really fucking endearing, actually.
And he says it with a half-smile, too, bloody and pathetic as it is. Like it’s a secret that only the two of them are in on, only Steve and Robin. It’s kind of sweet.
Not for the first time today does Eddie find himself wondering, Who the hell are you, Steve Harrington?
He exhales through his nose, ignoring the way he’s started to shake with all that panic that’s been sitting inside him for a little too long now with no way to let it out.
“Not much longer,” he mumbles under his breath again, or maybe he just thinks very hard. Maybe he doesn’t know where he is at all. It’s like he blanks every few seconds, too busy thinking and trying not to.
Before he can tell Harrington to talk some more about that girlfriend of his, there’s a pained, confused little whine that forcefully tears Eddie’s eyes from the street for a moment only to meet hazel eyes widened in confusion.
“Wh— Where… Where’re we going?”
Oh no.
“Why’m I in y—“
“You’re safe,” Eddie interrupts him, speaking slowly because suddenly his tongue is too big for his mouth, and not entirely sure if he’s reassuring Harrington or himself. “You’re hurt, okay? It’s bad, but it wasn’t me. I’m taking you to… to someone. My uncle Wayne, he’s— He knows about that kinda stuff. You were telling me about Rob. Remember her, Blue? How about you tell me some more, hm?”
Eddie’s voice is unsteady with worry and fear and panic, and he’s doing a piss-poor job at hiding it. The thing is, he’s going to cry. He’s actually, absolutely, no-doubt-about-it going to scream and cry and punch a fucking hole into something when this day is over, when his van is no longer bloody, and when Steve Harrington won’t have reason to look at him any longer.
Oh, how he wants to skip forward. Past the nausea, past the fear, past everything that’s happening right now. Maybe past the insomnia that will come with a day like this, too.
Past all of it.
Or better yet, travel back in time and never get to that fucking boat house.
But he can’t. So he breathes.
At first, through the ringing in his ears and the racing of his own heart so loud and so forceful he’s shaking with it, he worries that Steve’s gone silent again, that he’s gonna ask again, ask what happened, ask where he is, ask all the questions that make Eddie feel like he’s been doused in ice water because they’re questions that only get asked in stupid movies where terrible things happen to people.
But then he hears him mumbling something. Numbers.
“What’cha mumbling there, Blue?”
“‘S her number,” Steve says, his voice slurring again, worse than before, and Eddie hits the gas a little harder. “‘S jus’ her number. Robbie’s number.”
And he mumbles again. Over and over and over, until Eddie couldn’t forget it if he wanted to, ingrained into the frayed edges of his mind now.
He lets him ramble, lets him repeat the number until the words slur together and he can’t separate a four from a nine anymore. Each time Harrington hesitates, each time he stumbles over the words or forgets a digit, Eddie wants to punch the wheel.
He doesn’t. He only grips it tighter and counts down the turns he takes, the streets he passes, the fucking trees that are familiar, before, finally, the trailer park comes into view.
The sob Eddie lets out when, with shaking, trembling hands he pulls up to his home to find his uncle having a smoke outside is deafening to his ears after the quiet weakness of Harrington’s voice.
It startles him, makes him stop his rambles and sit up straighter when Eddie finally kills the engine. For a moment, without the steady, rolling hum, the car is filled with the small, tiny whines Steve makes on each exhale. Like it hurts to even breathe.
“Wha’s wrong?” He asks, but Eddie can’t really hear him. Can’t turn to him, can’t— “Eddie?”
He’s out of the car before he can take hold of another thought, stumbling out of his open door on legs that feel numb and heavy. The urge to cry is back again, the burning in his eyes only getting worse when Wayne takes in the dried blood on his clothes and hands with careful, calculated worry.
“Ed?”
“I didn’t know what— where—- I’m… Wayne, I’m sorry.”
“Slow down, kid,” Wayne says, raising his hands as if to calm a spooked deer. Like Eddie is the one who needs his help. And he is. He really, really is, and he shouldn’t be, because this isn’t about him, but—
Wayne grabs him by the shoulders to keep him still, and only now does Eddie realise he’s shaking again, restlessly moving his weight from one leg to the other. His uncle steadies him, gently pressing down on his shoulders to ground him, and Eddie nearly sobs again.
“Ed. Are you in trouble?”
“No,” Eddie scrambles to say, becoming aware of what this looks like, hiding his hands behind his back on instinct, like that’ll make Harrington’s blood disappear. “‘S not my blood, I didn’t do anything, I swear! I swear. It’s, uh. I just found him. In the boathouse, I found him, and he was… God, he looked so bad, okay, but he didn’t want the hospital, and he was, like, so scared of something, and we don’t even talk, we don’t even look at each other, but I just… I didn’t know what to do, and you know something about concussions and people who were beat to shit and, again, I’m—“
“Eddie,” Wayne says, his voice so calm but so assertive that Eddie shuts up immediately, gladly handing over to controls to his uncle now. “Who’s the kid?”
He nods towards Eddie’s van, where Harrington looks to be halfway unbuckled, but his eyes are closed and his face smushed against the door again, like he just gave up.
“Shit,” Eddie says, adrenaline and panic slowly falling from him with Wayne’s hand on his shoulder. He sags into his uncle and rubs at his face. “It’s Steve. Uh, Steve Harrington, I mean.”
“Okay,” Wayne says, and he’s so calm. So calm. Eddie feels like he’s about to fall apart, and Wayne is the only one keeping him together, with that’d steady, warm hand on his shoulder. “And you promise me he didn’t give you trouble? Or anyone else who’ll come finish what they started?”
Eddie shakes his head profusely, getting a little dizzy with it. “I promise I’m not in trouble. He said Hagan did this to him, was alone when I found him. No trouble, Wayne, I swear, I’m not like that, you know I’m not.”
“Okay,” Wayne says again, and Eddie wants to weep. “I know you’re not like that, but some people are, y’know? You did good, son. You did good. Now help me get him out of that car.”
It takes his uncle tugging him towards the van for Eddie to kick back into motion, nearly falling over his feet turning back around. It’s only Wayne’s “Easy” murmured under his breath that keeps the ground from opening up and swallowing him whole.
He climbs in on the driver’s side while Wayne rounds the car and gets to Harrington’s side.
“Hey there, Blue,” Eddie says, his voice shaking and the nickname slipping again — but it’s easier to call him that than his real name, it’s easier to pretend it’s literally anyone else in here with him, bleeding against his door.
It’s easier to pretend it’s not Harrington’s breath rattling the way it does, easier to pretend those pained groans so high in their cadence they can only count as whines don’t come from Hawkins High’s Golden Boy who graduated a few months ago and was supposed to be done with bullshit like this.
“Come on, up you get,” he tells him, not daring to raise his voice too much.
He looks so frail. Like he’s already broken. Or like he’s trying not to. Like he’s holding on.
Eddie pretends not to think that the hand he places on Steve’s cheek to gently pry him from the window is not the only thing keeping that boy together right now.
Harrington groans, whines, wheezes, but opens his eyes to meet Eddie’s. Jesus, we’re they this blown before? Or this swollen?
“Hey,” Eddie says, just to say something. Just so he won’t have to hold the boy’s face in silence, just so he won’t have to focus on all the blood. Just so he won’t have to hear more questions that people aren’t supposed to ask.
Steve opens his mouth, his breath coming out a little sharper, like he wants to say Hi rather than Where am I? or When will it stop hurting? Like he wants to say How can I help you help me?
Somehow, Eddie manages a smile.
Wayne chooses that moment to open the door — just unclicking it, not pulling yet; giving Eddie enough time to support Harrington, make sure he doesn’t fall.
“Careful,” he whispers, though whether it’s for Wayne, for Steve, or for himself, he can’t quite tell. Maybe it’s a plea to the rest of the world, and to anyone else who will listen.
Steve is still staring at him. That’s probably not a good sign. He leans back a little, turning Steve’s head to make him follow him. Slowly, of course. Gently. Eddie can’t remember ever having touched something like it was going to break if only he looked at it wrong, but somehow he’s hyper-aware of it now.
Because Harrington is staring at him. Entirely too still, like he has no strength, no coordination to do anything but stare. And yet Eddie is the one who, now that the adrenaline has fallen from him, now that he can let someone else take over, now that Harrington doesn’t need him anymore, finds himself unable to look away.
Because Steve is just a boy. And so is Eddie, who can feel Steve’s breath against his wrist. And maybe, out of the two of them, Eddie is the fragile one. The one about to break.
“Blue, you with me?”
Steve nods. Doesn’t speak again. Doesn’t move. Eddie swallows, briefly looking back down at Wayne to see if he’s ready. His uncle nods, ready to catch Harrington should he go down, and Eddie turns back to the boy who’s smeared with his own blood.
“I’m gonna take off your seatbelt now, yeah?” he tells him, not entirely recognising his voice anymore. “That man out there, that is Wayne. My uncle. He’s safe. He’ll take care of you, okay?”
“Safe,” Steve breathes, and that shouldn’t be the one thing he focuses on. It shouldn’t sound so unsure. So insecure. So hopeful, so relieved, so— Fucking earnest.
Swallowing all these thoughts, all this desperation and all those questions, Eddie reaches over Steve, one hand still supporting his head and feeling the overheated skin of Harrington’s cheek against his palm, the hint of stubble and the crust of dried blood. As if in slow motion, not daring to make a wrong move and hurt him more than he already does, Eddie frees him the rest of the way, letting the seatbelt slide into its hold behind his shoulder.
“Careful,” he says again, just to say anything, but he is careful, and his hold on Steve is steady.
“‘M careful. Not gonna break, Eddie.”
“I know.” But maybe I will.
“Good. ‘Cause… Don’ wanna break.”
Eddie smiles, despite everything. “You’re not gonna break, Blue. Wayne’ll catch you.”
Harrington loses his focus then, his eyes glazing over, but the small smile on his lips widens. “Blue. ‘S nice.”
Yeah, Eddie thinks. He kinda is.
Somehow, miraculously, they get Harrington out of the van and into the trailer. He throws up halfway to the doorstep, and Eddie curses under his breath while Wayne talks quietly, asking him yes and no questions that Eddie can’t really hear through the ringing in his ears — a strange mix of fear and relief, a panic not quite over, but soothed by his uncle’s familiar voice; even if it’s not directed at him.
“Don’t worry about it, kid, the next rain’ll take care of that. Stop apologising.”
It throws him then, rather suddenly and violently, watching Wayne supporting Harrington, watching the blood smeared boy with the swelling, angry red bruises in his face. Somehow it’s different, seeing him in his home.
This was always a safe space. Always void of everything terrible.
And now there’s a broken boy on his doorstep who’s not Eddie.
He remembers the fear, the panic, the plea for no hospital, Eddie. Can’t go there.
Why not? You need a doctor—
Monsters. Only monsters there.
It paralyses him and he stays where he is, holding the door with an arm that’s heavy like lead, standing on legs that begin to go numb again. He watches, but not really, as Wayne sits Harrington down on the living room couch, between magazines and brochures and some of Eddie’s calculus notes from last night that he was searching for a sketch of a monster he was so certain he’d drawn in the margins a few weeks back.
Now there’s blood on his calculus notes. And Eddie is helplessly keeping the door open as though he’s going to run away any second now. Letting in more trouble to join Harrington on his couch.
He should… He should close the door. Help. Run. Disappear.
“Ed,” Wayne calls, snapping him out of his stupor. “The first aid kit, please. A bottle of water. A clean, wet cloth. A blanket, too.”
Wayne talks him through it, takes it one step at a time, has Eddie bring him one after the other like he knows how much he’s keeping his nephew together by keeping him on the brink of usefulness.
Soon, Wayne has everything he needs, taking care of Harrington and his wounds, keeping him awake and talking so much better than Eddie did, even making him smile here and there, hiding his wince when the motion pulls on his split lip or the huffed breath sends a jolt of pain through his rib that Eddie is absolutely certain must be broken with the way he holds himself — with the way he lets Wayne hold him up.
Wayne is doing his thing and Eddie is hiding, gripping the kitchen counter like a vice, staring both unseeingly and hyper-vigilantly as exhaustion washes over him, dragging him under and draining him of more than adrenaline. He slumps against the cupboard behind him, rubbing at his face like that’ll make it all go away.
It’s not right. It’s not. This is Eddie’s home, it’s supposed to be safe, it’s not…
He breaks away, ripping his hands from the counter and all but stumbling outside, heaving a deep breath and giving in to the urge to cry. Tears spring to his eyes and he wipes them away angrily, because it’s dumb, it’s so stupid, it’s absolutely fucking insane that he should be so worked up when Harrington talked about dying earlier.
These things don’t happen. They don’t!
“Stop fucking crying,” Eddie grumbles, sniffling and wiping away more tears as he closes his eyes against the afternoon sun. “Get a grip, Munson, Jesus Christ, there’s no reason to cry you big fuckin’ baby.”
Nobody’s there to contradict him. Nobody’s there to make it worse. So he lets his eyes sting for a while, lets his lips wobble, his jaw clenched shut, the balls of his hands pressing into his eyes, breathing deliberately.
In. Hold. Out. Hold.
He doesn’t even scream. Doesn’t punch the still bloody side of his van, doesn’t run into the woods and disappear into the void.
He simply breathes. Tries not to think about boys dying in mall fires, and even less so about boys beaten and abandoned in boat houses.
Doesn’t think about fucking Hawkins in Bumfuck-Indiana and the cursed way it has, driving its people mad.
Doesn’t think about, They said my brain is hurt, Eddie. Doesn’t think about the Monsters Harrington mentioned. Doesn’t think about Blue, doesn’t think about I’m tired, Eddie. Don’t wanna hurt anymore.
Doesn’t think about blue, blue, blue.
He’s shaking when he comes back inside. He’s shaking when Harrington meets his eyes, looking a little clearer now, the blood washed away and everything bandaged a lot better than Eddie managed. He’a bundled in Eddie’s blanket. It’s wrong. It’s so, so wrong.
Eddie can’t move, and neither does Steve.
“Steve,” Wayne says, waiting until those eyes tear themselves away from Eddie and back to him, though Eddie sees them fill with such trepidation, he almost asks what’s wrong. “I won’t hear a no on this, and I won’t let you go home. I’m taking you to the hospital. Especially if you tell me your head was hurt like this before, more times than one.”
“Three,” Blue breathes, a little dazed still. Not magically healed, not even from Wayne. Another thing that doesn’t feel right.
“Three times,” Wayne says, nodding, like he’s encouraging Steve to continue.
“But I don’t want a hospital.” Again with that tiny fucking voice. Like the Monsters are hiding under hospital beds.
“I know, son,” Wayne sighs, tugging the blanket a little tighter around Steve, and Eddie’s eyes begin to sting again when he notices the tone Wayne uses. When he realises. When he remembers.
”I want my mom.“
”I know, son. But she’s not coming. Your mama is gone, Ed, and this is your home now. Think we can make that work, hm? You and I?”
Eddie had never felt so lost as he did then, clutching his blanket to his chest, burying his face in the wet fabric even as this man — his uncle — tugs it tighter around him. Like he is fine with Eddie wanting to hide as long as he doesn’t run away.
He had shrugged, then, even though we wanted to shake his head, tell him no, tell him he wanted his mama.
”I’m scared, uncle Wayne.”
And Wayne had smiled a little, and nodded. “Then we do it scared, Eddie.”
Actually, Eddie feels like he never stopped doing it scared.
And now there is Steve, who Eddie never believed knew what being scared felt like. It’s dumb, of course, because even Harrington is just a boy, but he was always untouchable to Eddie. They never talked. They never existed in the same space together, not in a good way and not in a bad way. Their worlds just never aligned, never collided, never coexisted.
And now…
“I’ll tell you what’s going to happen, okay? There’s a doctor, Doctor Clarke. Like— Yeah, like your science teacher, remember him? ‘S got a brother who’s just as much of a genius, and just as kind. He’ll take a look at you, yeah? Make sure your brain isn’t too hurt, clean your wounds, give you something for the pain. He won’t, uh. He won’t hurt you, kid. Whatever’s got you so scared, Dr Clarke will be nice to you. Especially when I’m there with ya, I’m an old pal of his. And I will be. Won’t let you outta my sight until you’re well enough to run away from me, you hear me, kid?”
Eddie’s hands are hurting, his fingertips raw from where he’s been biting his nails while Wayne talks Blue through what’s going to happen — and he wonders, with the way Steve’s eyes are glued to Wayne, if he ever had anyone talking him through shit like this.
“Okay,” Harrington breathes at last, still sounding way too small. “But. I’m…”
“Scared anyway?” Wayne offers. Steve nods. You’re so blue, Stevie. “Then we do it scared anyway.”
And they do. Wayne goes to get the car so Steve won’t have to walk too far, leaving Eddie alone with him for a brief moment.
He watches, from his place in the kitchen, how Steve’s face falls into a look of utter exhaustion and tiredness; the adrenaline washing from him just the same. Eddie wants to reach out. Wants to say something, break the spell of tension and silence and I know we don’t talk, but I’m glad you’re doing a little better. I’m glad you’ll go see a doctor. I’m glad you haven’t died, I guess. Do you really think you will? Are you really so scared of that?
But Eddie keeps biting his nails, and Steve keeps his eyes closed, blanket around his shoulders. And they don’t talk.
“Thank you.”
Eddie perks up, not entirely sure he didn’t imagine the words — but Harrington moved slightly, his eyes still closed but his face now turned towards Eddie.
“For, uh. This.”
“I didn’t do shit, Blue,” Eddie says. “That was all Wayne. All I did was freak out, I promise.”
Harrington shakes his head, though, slowly. “Mh-mm.”
Eddie’s mouth snaps shut, because there is no room for discussion here. They don’t talk. And he doesn’t want the bubble to burst with insecurity and sourness.
“Thank you,” he says again, and he sounds final about it. It makes Eddie wonder what he’s like, really like, when he doesn’t consist of pain and nausea and disorientation.
He has a feeling that, despite everything, despite Monsters under hospital beds and torture in boathouses and mall fires that kill teenagers, Blue Harrington might be someone good to talk to. Compassionate as shit, even when all he wants to do is pass out.
“You’re welcome,” Eddie rasps, pretending that his eyes don’t sting.
He wraps his arms around his chest like he’s hugging himself, or like he’s holding himself back. From reaching out, from asking, from telling, from talking.
Unwittingly, even with his eyes closed, Steve mirrors him, and Eddie wonders if he, too, it holding himself back, or just curling in on himself some more even though it must hurt, feeling so small.
Maybe that’s what fear of death does to a nineteen year-old. It’s so fucked up. Eddie wants to scream again.
Outside, he hears a car door fall shut just before Wayne reappears in the door, giving Eddie some kind of meaningful look that he wouldn’t mind deciphering on any other day, but today he fears he needs words.
“I don’t know how long this’ll take. Will you be okay, Ed?”
“Will I be— Yes! I’m not the one with the concussion, man, of course I’ll be—“
It’s a bluff, comes too fast, and Wayne sees right through it before Eddie even realises it, and he steps closer. A warm hand on his shoulder. His eyes stinging again.
“You did good, kid. Everything will be fine. But it might take a while. It’s fine if you need to go somewhere, just… Don’t drive. Call Jeff if you need someone, just. Don’t do anything stupid. And don’t get behind the wheel. Deal?”
Eddie swallows hard, hit by another desperate, aching wave of I wanna go back in time and skip this day. A wave of tired exhaustion and wondering, aimlessly, just who the fuck Steve Harrington really is.
“Deal,” he says, and Wayne pulls him into a hug.
Eddie follows them outside then, trailing behind them like a lost little puppy, helping Harrington into Wayne’s car. His movements are still slugged and a little disoriented, so Eddie decides to lean in again and fasten his seatbelt.
“Careful,” he mumbles, allowing the boy a moment’s warning, a moment to adjust before the weight settles on his chest.
Dejá-vù hits him and makes him pause, with Harrington staring at him again.
“I’m careful,” he says, the corners of his mouth tugging into a little smile.
More lucid than earlier, and Eddie thinks it that which takes his breath away for a moment.
“Not gonna break, Eddie.”
“I know,” he says, still not moving back, instead reaching up to tighten the blanket around his shoulders even though the seatbelt is already there to hold it in place. “You’re not gonna break, Blue.”
The smile on those lips is genuine now, gentle enough to not be ruined by the blood crusting them.
“Thanks. Again.” And then, when Eddie finally pulls away to close the door and tell Wayne to drive safely, “I really do like that name.”
It soothes the urge to scream.
Eddie closes the door as gently as he can — which isn’t much, because the car is old and not exactly smooth.
“I’ll see you later,” he tells Wayne. Promises. To stay out of trouble, to stick around, to not run away for a while again, to stay out of his car.
Wayne nods, a faint smile on his lips.
“Later, Ed.”
And then they’re gone, and Eddie is untethered again. Wonders, for a few seconds every now and then if it really happened, if this is real.
But it did. And it is.
And after sitting on the steps for a while, having a smoke and staring at where Wayne’s car disappeared ten, twenty, forty minutes ago, Eddie heads inside.
He has a phone call to make.
🤍🌷 tagging: @theshippirate22 @mentallyundone @ledleaf @imfinereallyy @itsall-taken @simply-shin @romanticdestruction @temptingfatetakingnames @stevesbipanic @steddie-island @estrellami-1 @jackiemonroe5512 @emofratboy @writing-kiki @steviesummer @devondespresso @swimmingbirdrunningrock @dodger-chan @tellatoast @inkjette @weirdandabsurd42 (a thousand percent sure i missed some but oh well such is the 3am disease)
addendum 22 jan 24: onwards to part 3
#steddie#steddie fic#steddie fanfic#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve harrington whump#this is so long i am SORRY#i hope tagging y'all was okay (and equally i'm hoping i missed nobody but also it is 3am)#who did this to you#most of y'all will know most of the beginning already maybe i should have split it up but i wanted y'all to have Something New too#and then the Something New got out of hand and oh well :(#dio words
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Teehee! (Spritesheets your Wangxian)
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#wei wuxian#lan wangji#pixel art#game dev diary#When you read these tags please imagine it is at my bedside in a candlelit room as I lay in bed shaking with fever.#I weakly hand you an envelope with these spritesheets and you have to lean in to hear my rasping voice.#Because I *know* this is probably really straightforward to a lot of artists.#But this is my first time doing something like this *EVER*. I am so far outside of my comfort zone!#But *who* is pd-mdzs if not that art blog that keeps you all on your toes for what to expect?#For someone who has never done pixel art I think I did okay! I have learned a lot B*)#The more exciting news is that THESE ACUALLY WORK. They can run around and be put into situations!#(Well...the *original* files work; these are screenshots. The real files are microscopically small)#Get ready for a new era of content while I continue to learn more about sprite art and animation.#I have a lot of other assets to practice making so seriously; get ready for some wild MDZS (and Dungeon Meshi) fake game clips.#I want to recreate some scenes in the game engine to practice and experiment! I think that's really fun!#Next up is dialogue window icons and then battle art!
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happy birthday my darling
#you did well ! you did so well ! now you get a hug and you get to cry#you did So well .did u know u did well ?#i will drag your stupid brother home myself dont you worry#and he will give you a hug and it will all be okay for once#he makes me emotional .i love him very much#i just think that . happiness and joy for him forever#squints at novel then throws it in a fire#dont look at that look at me#happiness and joy forever for him okay ? okay#or i will kill everyone whos ever made him cry#my stupid darling boy…..u did so well#UGHHGGHGGHHHHHHHH he was a little baby and they did all that to him and he still did so well ! ! ! ! ! !#im going to go cry now#art tag#mdzs#jiang cheng#jin ling#jin ling and his jiujiu#im so busy with uni stuff i rendered a sketch from a couple months back >_<)
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"we'll forget it by tomorrow anyway."
#the heart killers#the heart killers ep1#firstkhao#kantbison#gmmtv#thai bl#bl drama#upcoming bl#HOW ARE FEELING#Im not feeling anything#head empty#its so messy?? and so unserious????#i cant#like this happened 15 minutes in#do they want me to have a stroke????#well done though cuz you did it#im not okay
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when people say they finished DE without playing the communist quest
#'trashed like a schoolboy' 'his partner he says' the sado-masochism happening in that room. nilsen and mazov canonly holding hands#you know what im tagging this#disco elysium#well okay the hand holding is in the book but still#lets not forget 'did you fancy each other?'#8 hours
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PAYDAY
aka a valentine for the lovely @itsnotmystic / @corvids-calling - fanart for stars fic of the same name, which you can read here !!! i really enjoyed this concept and wanted to do some art for it :3 hope you like it because i REALLY loved your work & i hope this shows that !!! HAPPY VALENTINES DAY !!!!
this is also a loose love-letter to the wonderful @arginnit 's crazy background-drawing-ability and style/skill at portraying environments . wadds your stuff is insane and i love it
happy @mcyt-valentines exchange !!!!
#mcyt-valentines#things i make#c!wilbur#wilbur soot#wilbur soot fanart#dsmp wilbur#blah blah blah WHO CARES. I LOVE YOUR WRITING#i read your little um um superhero slash las nevadas Theft fic as well it was so fun :3#AND I okay maybe this is creepy idk i backscrolled ur blog to hell and back lmfao#UR PAINTING OF TECHNOS CABIN IS SO SWEET AND CALM AND PRETTY i was originally going to do something with ctechno but the art just wouldnt c#come to me#i did get one (1) ctechno design/doodle out of it though its my most recent post before this one in my things i make tag#idk i hope youre having a good day you seem super cool and. ya#AND TO WADDS. idk i love your art so much . i think about some of your pieces literally all the time#your um. backrooms drawing with tommy & charlie & ranboo i love the warped perspective i tried to reflect that in this#your painting style anddddd yeah. your composition your everything its so good#happy valentines dayyyy
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