#and then they kiss or something idk

[wynnyfryd]

Since you asked so nicely…and I’m nothing if not a giver… Steve very seriously saying to Eddie “That’s rich coming from the guy who tried to kill me less than two hours ago” in whatever scenario your Big Brain can come up with (ily ur amazing btw)

“Can’t believe you let a twelve year old drive off with your car,” Eddie snorts as he tosses another bottle cap into the hole in the floor of the boathouse.

“Can you stop that?” Steve clips. He doesn’t understand why Eddie’s bothering to do it, anyway. It’s too fucking dark to see the caps once they hit the water, but the steady plunk plunk plunk is starting to drive him a little nuts. Eddie is starting to drive him a little nuts.

You have to stay with him, Steve.

No one else is strong enough to protect him if someone comes looking for him, Steve.

Goddamn horseshit, is what it is.

Without Eddie’s little game of toss, the boathouse is… really creepy, actually. All creaking wood and nocturnal animal noises and Eddie’s shaky, rattling breaths.

“She’s fourteen,” Steve says to fill the silence he regrets asking for.

“Huh?”

“Max. She’s fourteen, not twelve.”

Eddie scoffs, lets his head drop again, hiding behind a curtain of hair. He brings a strand up to his mouth, mumbles, “Like that makes it any better.”

Okay, you know what? Steve doesn’t need this. He just does not need this. Not from the fully grown drug-dealing goth weirdo he’s being forced to babysit.

Seriously, who is Eddie Munson to go questioning his judgement when he’s trying to do the guy a fucking favor?

“That’s rich coming from the guy who tried to kill me less than two hours ago,” he bites, rubbing at the spot on his neck where the jagged glass pressed in.

“Oh, fuck off, man,” Eddie rolls his eyes. “I didn’t try to fuckin’- I wouldn’t… w-wouldn’t-”

Oh, no. Goddammit.

Eddie’s eyes go all wide and wet, his lip quivering around the word ‘kill,’ and Steve can just hear his mother tutting about his lack of decorum. The boy just witnessed a murder, Steven.

“Shit, man, Eddie, I’m-”

Eddie makes this sound — this pathetic thing, stuttering and damp, like mildew in his lungs, and his cheeks burn red as a tear tips over his lashes. Shit.

Shit.

“Hey,” Steve tries, reaching out to clap a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, but Eddie rears back, voice cracking as he snaps, “Don’t touch me!”

Eyes hot. Breath wet and heaving.

Steve’s gonna get decked for this.

“I’m- just… Just come here, man,” Steve says, wrapping an arm around Eddie, pulling him in, and Eddie folds like crumpled paper, collapses into Steve’s side and sobs, shaking them both so violently that Steve scoots them back a little from the edge of the hole in the floor just to be safe. He wraps Eddie up with both arms, and Eddie slumps down into his lap, and they’re-

Jesus. They’re cuddling. Steve Harrington is cuddling with Eddie Munson. What the fuck. What the fuck?

“You’re okay,” Steve murmurs, rocking them gently and brushing damp curls out of Eddie’s eyes, because, like. Might as well, right? This is already so weird.

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[kimeoshi]

this mental image kept haunting me until I drew it, so here

[nanihirunkits]

เจ้าความรัก (Hurt Me Please) Ost.THE HEART KILLERS เขาจ้างให้ผมจีบนักฆ่า JOONG ARCHEN

[yunogf]

Valentine's Day circa 1997

[rotshi]

Kissing practice idk

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Hi!! Your Cherik is so good and gorgeous 🤩🤩 If you don't mind wanna try to draw some Fall of X Cherik please?

thank you so much !!

i have a couple of ideas relating to the fall of x period specifically since theres. A Lot i wanna play with, so i hope this lil thing may be a satisfactory start :]]

and the obligatory bonus:

[abandoneddinosaur]

Merlin: I love you

Arthur: you shouldn’t

Merlin: but I do

Arthur: I love you too

Merlin: you shouldn’t

Arthur: but I do

[teethlordd]

Warm Alligator

[nelyo-s]

the way all loumand kisses are backlit/dark/kinda obscured

while loustat's are light/warmer tones/(literally) out in the open

and lesmand over here also looking dark and backlit

[ayz0]

check out the impulse control on that guy

[seefasterdraws]

from the homumiko mines

[hayaku14]

OH MY FUCKING GOD KAITO AND SHINICHI TOGETHER EXISTING IN ONE FRAME AND LOOKING HELLA DAPPER I'M GOING TO DIE

(x)

[halflifebutawesome]

movie night

[leafsfromthevine]

me: 😐

me when sokka and zuko are next to each other: 😮🤯🤩🫶🌈✨️

[aurieeeeeenyx]

oh yeah also jayvik are extremely orpheus and eurydice coded i don't make the rules