#but i got carried away with that one

[ashoss]

would it be wrong to reuse the same caption again

[noodles-and-tea]

whaddya think of the mystery trio?

I LOVE!!!!!

[almondpiglet]

Serizawa carrying Reigen!

thirty year old salaryman carries twenty nine year old boss cuz they arent gay!!!

[keferon]

…..I should be working rn but one of the songs in my playlist hit harder than usual so

[i-eat-deodorant]

He wants so viciously to tell them he hates them. Whatever they're doing to him-- this pounding in his ribcage, this roiling pit tearing itself open in his stomach with an intensity so uncomfortably close to shame-- it has to be hate. Divine hate. Righteous, fixated hate. Overwhelming, terrifying, yearning hate.

He leans in.

fanart for that one scene in chapter 6 of Feel No Evil by @payasita . i'm completely obsessed with how it's written and have read it over like 10+ times.

[chosisbox]

Ngl they ate with the red matching outfits

I FINALLY GOT ITTT

I wanted to buy it for later but I saw it at the Japan expo and I couldn't resist-

[contakaidigon]

4am cup of coffee

Featuring the medal of wit from gorgug and the scars on his hands from the nightmare forest :)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Don't Wormy About Me.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[solroskajan]

I couldn't run from the vuzi thoughts any longer sorry.

[minxinq]

nessun dorma

[gen-toon]

[zu-is-here]

Studio Magazine #2 ft. the bday boy ♡

[10/10] Cross from xtaleunderverse by jakei95

[puckinghischier]

so the clip of quinn asking the producer if his hair looks good, we’ve all seen it, right? cause i’m just thinking about it and how yeah it was probably a joke, but it’s sooooo insecure!quinn coded. like i’m sure he was nervous, and he really did want to look good for the camera. and it’s got me thinking about what it would be like to comfort insecure!quinn (i didn’t mean for this to be this long but i couldn’t stop once i started so here’s basically a three in one blurb 🫣)

it’s even things as simple as his pre-game outfits. he’s seen all the comments online about how he only wears the same few suits, so one day while you’re on the couch watching tv, he turns to you and asks if you’ll go shopping with him. of course you agree, but you ask him what’s got him so eager to expand his wardrobe.

“just…people keep saying i’m wearing the same thing all the time and it has me thinking i should probably go buy a couple more suits to wear for arrival pictures and stuff,” he shrugs, almost whispering, telling you it’s something he’s slightly embarrassed about.

you reach over and run your hand through his hair, playing with the messy curls. “q, who cares if you wear the same suit every game day? you’re wearing it to walk in the building and out of it,” you speak softly to him, noticing he’s not meeting your eye. “but, if you want to go pick up a few more, i’d love to go with you and help you pick them out,” you tug lightly on his hair to get him to look over at you, bringing your hand down to toy with the tip of his ear.

he gives you a bashful smile, mumbling out a small “thanks,” before looking away again.

you lean over, replacing your hand on his ear with your mouth. “plus, you know how much i love looking at you in a suit,” you let your lips drag over the warm skin. “almost as much as i love looking at you without one on.”

quinn shudders at the feeling of your hot breath on his ear, making him forget what he was even thinking about before the current conversation.

~

of course, quinn’s constantly worried about being a good captain for his team, too. he doesn’t think he’s played long enough to earn it yet, not understanding why they picked him over some of the vets on the team.

so when he comes home after a particularly rough practice or a brutal loss, you can feel the insecurity radiating off of his body. the game that eliminated them from the playoffs, though? god, you never want to relive it.

he laid in your arms for hours, switching between crying and getting angry at himself. he kept telling you it was his fault. he was the reason they didn’t make it. they should’ve chosen a different person to be captain, not him. he clearly didn’t know what he was doing, or they’d be celebrating tonight instead.

you know that most of this is caused by the questions he was asked after the game. one reporter in particular always asking the worst questions and getting under his skin. but you’re sure the group of drunk, upset fans outside of the rink who were yelling discouraging things to him only drove the knife deeper.

the way he talked about himself with so much disgust broke your heart in a way you never knew was possible. you knew he was always hardest on himself, but the fact he truly believes these things makes you worry you haven’t been doing your job correctly.

“quinn, i don’t ever want to hear you talk about yourself like that again, do you hear me?” you sat up, talking sternly but not harshly.

“well, it’s true. if they would’ve just picked someone else then-“

“stop!” you interrupted him, your sudden loudness causing him to pause, looking at you with wide eyes. “i’m sorry, i’m not trying to yell at you, but i’m not going to sit here and listen to you do this to yourself any longer,” you put just a few inches of distance between you and him on the large couch.

“you’re exactly who they wanted to lead this team or they wouldn’t have chosen you. you do have what it takes. hell, quinn, you got the team to the playoffs for the first time in 4 years. that has to count for something,” the tone of your voice is almost pleading, begging him to take what you’re saying to heart.

“your teammates love you. they look up to you. the fans love you. they were excited when you were named captain. i love you,” you take a moment, watching his face slowly change from distress to calm. “and i won’t sit here and listen to you say awful things about the man that i love. not for something that changes nothing about how i feel about you or your value as the captain of your team,” you finish, a knot forming in your throat because of how deeply you feel about the man sitting in front of you.

quinn just sits and looks at you, finally snapped out of his self destruct mode. “i…love you so much, you know that?” he tells you before pulling you into him and engulfing you in one of his ‘huggybear’ hugs.

“you’re right. i’m here because i deserve to be. and if you believe in me, who cares what anyone else thinks? i’ve got the best motivation right here in front of me,” he speaks into your neck, squeezing you tightly to his body, like he’s trying to press you into his skin, knowing he can always count on you to talk him out of his insecurities.

~

you get the rare moments, too, where quinn starts comparing himself to his brothers. you’d think as the oldest he’d know better, knowing that the two younger boys have always looked up to him, but once the media started trying to pit the three against each other, the seed of doubt crept its way into his thoughts.

it’s not even just about hockey, either. it’s the way jack is always so outgoing, the life of the party. and luke always seems so universally adored, his bashful charm winning him over with crowds.

quinn? quinn feels like he’s just…there. he can’t strike up a conversation as naturally as jack can. and his shyness seems to only drive people away, not draw people in, like luke’s.

and yeah, quinn knows you’re always there with him, keeping him company and being his buffer in all of the various social settings he finds himself in, but he can’t help but wish he was a little bit more like his brothers.

especially right now, when he’s sitting by the fire pit at the family lake house, a few of brother’s shared friends over for the weekend.

he’s sitting in a chair sipping on a beer, watching you partake in a heated game of beer pong with jack, luke, trevor, and cole. all day he’s felt a little…less than. watching you on the boat earlier dancing around to your favorite song with jack, not worrying about who might float by and see the two of you.

or when you were helping prep dinner, and trevor came up to you and struck up a conversation, talking a mile a minute while you kept up with and soaked up every word, adding to the conversation with just as much enthusiasm at the drop of a hat.

or right now, when cole is picking you up and swinging you around after you just won the drinking game, launching into your ‘secret’ handshake the two of you coined a few summers ago.

he wishes he could give you those things. the loud, crazy, fun atmosphere you seem to thrive in. he wishes he could be the guy to parade you around at all of the hockey banquets, introducing you to various people. he wants to dress up with you on halloween in the ridiculous couples costumes you always show him. to be the spontaneous boyfriend that goes diving off of the small cove cliffs on the lake like you love to do with jack.

but that’s just…not who he is. he likes to be quiet, observant, lowkey, private. he likes to listen to other people carry the conversation, and just chime in when he has something to add. he likes to drive the boat and watch everyone else splash around in the water, jumping in for a few minutes just to cool off before resuming his position on the driver’s seat. he hates going to the bar after games with his teammates, but agrees because he knows you like dressing up and going out.

he loves when the two of you spend time reading together on the couch, then order dinner in and watch a movie before bed. he likes the fact that the two of you can sit in silence, both comfortable enough to not feel the need to fill the space with empty conversation. he likes being able to come home to you after the loud environment of the game to the sweet whisper of your voice, because you know how he likes the soft tone after the arena full of screams and sirens.

but he can’t help but feel like he’s causing you to be less for him, seeing how much life you seem to have in times like these.

he’s broken out of his little pity party when you come running over to him. “quinny!! did you see that! we won! i won!” you fling your half-drunk self down onto his lap, beaming your beautiful smile to him.

“i did. looked like you were having fun,” he says with a smile, but his tone is flat.

he watches your smile fade slightly, cocking your head at him. “you okay?” you ask him, always able to tell when something’s not right in that mysterious brain of his.

“yeah, m’just tired. might head in early,” he tells you, drumming his fingers along the tanned skin of your leg, signaling he’s about to stand up.

“okay…well then i’ll go with you. just gotta tell the guys goodnight first,” you respond skeptically, removing yourself from his lap as he stands.

“no, no, don’t wanna ruin your fun. just come to bed when you’re done, yeah? don’t drink too much, sweetheart,” quinn shakes his head, placing a kiss on the top of your head before turning and walking away from you, leaving you confused.

you watch quinn walk up the stone steps, stopping in the dimly lit kitchen to hover over the sink for a few moments, staring out the window looking over the dark lake. you can tell by his body language something is bothering him, so you turn and walk over to tell the rest of the group that you’re heading to bed, ignoring their protests of ‘you’re no fun! quinn’s made you boring!’ with a playful show of your middle finger as you walk away, following quinn’s same path.

quinn’s so lost in thought he doesn’t hear the kitchen door open or the soft pad of your footsteps walking towards him, only breaking out of his trance when he feels your hands make their way around his torso and your body pressed against his back.

“whatcha thinking about?” you ask him, placing a small kiss to the middle of his back through his thin t-shirt.

“nothing,” he tells you, his tone not convincing you. “why aren’t you out there defending your title?” he turns around so he’s facing you, resting his own hands on your waist.

“because something has you locked in that pretty head of yours, and i intend to find out why my boyfriend is sad,” you tell him in that soft tone of voice he loves, not wasting any time getting to the bottom of his odd mood.

quinn’s cheeks involuntarily flush, always having loved when you call him pretty. but before you can admire him too much he closes his eyes and throws his head back, sighing, not wanting to talk about how pathetic he is.

“you’ll just think it’s silly and pointless,” he confesses, knowing you won’t concede until you pry it out of him.

“try me,” you tell him as he looks down at you, seeing the cocked eyebrow and look of determination on your face.

he’s silent for a few seconds, trying to figure out how to explain it to you without making you feel like you did something wrong, because he knows you’ll immediately start picking apart what you could’ve possibly done to make him feel like this. but it’s not you, it’s his problem.

you continue to look at him with love in your eyes, silently encouraging him.

“it’s just…” he starts then pauses again, bringing a hand up to toy with your low ponytail. “do you…ever…y’know, wish i was different? more like jack? or trevor?” he finally gets the words out, shock taking over your features.

he watches your eyes go from loving, to surprised, to sad.

“quinn, what? no. never,” you tell him, shaking your head so vigorously he’s worried you’ll make yourself dizzy.

he brings his hands up to stop the movement of your head, leaving his soft hands there, thumbs caressing your cheeks.

“it’s just…i see how you are around them. how…full of life you are,” he watches your mouth open and close, like you want to interrupt him but thought better of it. “and i can’t help but wonder if you’re missing out because of me,” he shrugs, removing his hands from your face to let them rest in half fists on your shoulders, a sad smile on his face.

reaching up to grab his hands and hold them in both of yours, you shake them a bit to get him to look at you.

“i’m not missing out on anything, do you hear me?” you tell him with such seriousness in your voice he’s almost worried you’re mad. “they’re a good time, yeah, but they’re not you, q.”

still not convinced, quinn let’s his doubt control his thoughts again. “i just know that they’re more your speed. they like to go out and party and have fun and i…don’t,” he can’t meet your eyes, not wanting to see the sadness settled there.

“with them you’re always talking and can be loud and spontaneous like i know you like to do. but with me it’s always whispers and quiet and hiding away in corners or at home. i don’t do silly dances with you in the boat without caring who might see or have a secret handshake when we win beer pong. i sit on the couch and read in silence. i sit in the corner and watch everyone else have fun when we go out because i don’t want videos of me all over the internet,” he continues, his tone growing more frustrated with each word spoken.

“i just don’t want you to wake up one day and realize you’ve wasted all this time with some boring guy who only wants to sit at home and only goes out when he has to or when you want to, not because he enjoys it,” he finishes, nearly shaking with vulnerability.

his words are a knife straight into your heart, not wanting to believe he really feels this way about himself.

“oh quinny,” you bring your hands up to cup his face, wiping at the moisture forming in his grey eyes.

he gives you a weak smile, turning his head to kiss your open palm, closing his eyes at the comfort your skin on his always brings him.

“i need you to know, that i love you, quinn hughes. i love you so much it hurts me sometimes. like, physically pains me. i look at you and i feel like my chest could literally bust open with how deeply i feel about you. and not just when things are good. all the time. every day. even when we’re fighting. even when you’re sad. even when you leave your socks stuffed in the creases of the couch,” you tell him, earning a small, wet laugh, because he knows how much you hate that poor habit of his.

“i love you when we’re sitting in silence on the couch because you just got home from a game and need a noise break. i love you when we’ve been reading for hours, the only sound between us the turning pages of our books. i love you when we’re sitting in the corner of the bar because you don’t want to be the center of attention when someone buys the team a round. i love you when you’re watching me be crazy and drunk on the boat because you want to make sure someone is sober and everyone is safe. i love you when you’re ‘boring’ because to me, you’re never boring,” you confess to him, feeling the small tear slip out of your left eye and down your cheek, matching quinn’s.

“you’re the person that i love with everything that i have in me. the one that brings me home whatever books i’ve been talking about wanting to read during our marathons on a random afternoon just because you were thinking about it. the person that sacrifices his alone time away from his team, and just hockey in general, to go to banquets and events because you know i enjoy those things sometimes. you’re the person that always watches my favorite silly shows with me, no matter how stupid they are. my personal chef, my human teddy bear, my best friend,” you whisper the last words, sniffling, noticing quinn’s eyes are now closed tightly.

“because even though i do enjoy being loud and rowdy sometimes, i enjoy being with you, more. i enjoy the quiet and the slowness of life with you. the time we get to spend together without distractions or expectations. so no, i don’t wish you were more like jack, or trevor, or luke, or cole, or whoever. because you’re like quinn, which is exactly who i want you to be,” your voice finally goes quiet, bringing your forehead to rest against his, hoping your words are enough to convince him that his insecurities are just that. they hold no weight and have no truth to them.

the two of you simply soak in each other’s presence, neither one daring break the intimacy of the words hanging in the air.

when quinn finally opens his eyes and leans his head back, he lets out a shaky breath.

“tell me not to get down on one knee and propose to you right now,” he tells you, a slight joking tone to his voice, earning a small chuckle from you.

“way to do a complete 180,” you joke back, once again tangling your hands in his hair.

he huffs out a small laugh, tilting his head back before brining it back up to look at you.

“thank you,” he breaths out. “i don’t know how i got so in my head, but all day i watched you have fun and i don’t know. i got lost for a bit.”

you lean forward to place a small peck on the tip of his nose, watching him scrunch it slightly in response.

“well, luckily for you, i’ll always be here to come in there and find you, bringing you back out here to me,” you tap your finger along his temple.

“luckiest in the world,” he beams down at you.

[steddieas-shegoes]

if you look deep enough into steve’s eyes, the colors start to shift from a medium-brown to light, almost golden, like his hair in the summer, like his skin when it’s wet.

eddie finds himself noticing these things more often as the year after vecna passes. on the anniversary of nearly dying, eddie thinks he’s noticed everything about steve.

but then steve shows up at his door after dropping the kids off at their respective homes, a smile on his face, and something mysterious in his eyes. something that distracts eddie from the golden specks the reflect off his porch light. something that only eddie really gets to see.

“wanna take a ride?”

“where you taking me, big boy?”

steve blushes, a soft pink that would be warm to the touch if eddie was brave enough to reach out.

“it’s a surprise.”

eddie trusts steve, so he gets in his car and doesn’t ask anymore questions.

steve talks about something dustin did on the way, complaining with a fondness only steve could have for the kid.

it hits eddie as steve pulls onto a side road.

the field.

the wildflowers bloomed early this year, and eddie had mentioned recently that he would like to make new memories in a place where he was facing death or prison exactly one year ago.

he didn’t think anyone was listening, but apparently steve was.

steve parks the car and eddie doesn’t think he can look at him yet. he thinks he’s gonna cry. he thinks he’s so deeply in love with this man that he may never experience anything like it again.

it’s dark, but the moon is bright. there’s still a light chill in the air, but eddie’s still wearing his leather jacket from hellfire earlier, so he barely feels it.

they walk together through the field, close enough that their hands brush, but still more distance between them than eddie wants. he’s surrounded by beauty: the flowers, the stars, steve.

he stops when steve does.

they both look up at the stars for a few minutes, silent so they can hear the crickets and their own heartbeats.

“a year ago, when i almost lost you, i thought about all the things i didn’t get to do or say or know about you. i was angry for a long time.” steve turns to eddie, giving him a sad smile. “it wasn’t fair that you had to go through all of that and i couldn’t do anything. the doctors weren’t doing enough, and the cops weren’t doing enough, and no one understood how important it was that they fix it.”

eddie’s watching him, baffled. he’s not sure where this is going and he’s worried that his own feelings may be clouding his vision.

“i couldn’t make your pain go away. i couldn’t make it easier. i couldn’t help you walk again or play guitar. i just had to watch.”

eddie feels a tug in his stomach, a pull that leaves him breathless.

“but i watched. and i saw every side of you. and i don’t think i’ll say this right, but i practiced with robin and she thinks i did good.” steve breathes in and turns to face eddie completely. “i learned a side of me that i didn’t know about while i watched you. i learned that love looks different than what i always thought. and i learned that because of you.”

“because of…me?” eddie’s trying not to get his hopes up, but he’s pretty sure they’re higher than ever.

“because you love so loudly. everyone you love knows it and you aren’t scared that they’ll run away. it’s probably because it’s impossible not to love you.”

eddie thinks he actually is experiencing some kind of post-death dream. maybe he got too high in his room and steve never even showed up at his door.

“eddie? did you hear me?”

eddie focuses on steve’s look of concern, on the golden specks in his eyes that the moonlight makes shimmer.

“i don’t know?”

“i said i love you.”

“oh. then, no, i didn’t.”

steve’s face falls and eddie realizes a second too late that his response to steve saying he loves him wasn’t the exact thing he’d been holding back for at least six months now.

“i just thought you should know. um. so i guess i can wait in the car if you wanna stay a bit longer-“

eddie is only staying in this field if steve is with him, so he wraps his arms around steve’s shoulders and hugs him harder than is probably safe.

“i love you. sorry i’m a dumbass and didn’t say it the second you did. i was trying to convince myself this was real life.”

steve laughs against his ear and eddie’s pretty sure they belong like this.

“why now?” eddie asks as he pulls away.

“because i told myself if you didn’t do it by today, i would.”

“how long have you been waiting on me?”

steve lets out a breath. “eight months give or take.”

“that is…much longer than i would’ve expected.”

“yeah, well, imagine being the one waiting.”

eddie smiles at steve, and steve smiles back, and eddie notices a new thing.

steve harrington’s got a crooked tooth. an imperfection to some, a sign of being human to eddie.

“what’s that face for?” steve asks.

“you’re perfect, stevie.”

they kiss in the field where eddie was saying goodbyes a year ago. they look at stars in a clear sky while holding hands and talking about what their future might look like. steve’s head rests in eddie’s lap while eddie traces steve’s lips with his finger, memorizing the curl of his lips when he smiles and the feel of the vibrations when he hums a song eddie doesn’t recognize.

steve picks flowers, and eddie makes a crown, and they both say i love you in a million ways.

they walk along the edges of the field, where the rv was parked while they prepared for the worst. eddie shivers at the memories, but steve kisses his shoulder and the back of his hand and he shivers at that instead.

they ride back, and eddie sings along to whatever songs play on the radio, even if he messes up the words. steve laughs and it’s better than any music they could listen to.

they kiss on eddie’s porch, surrounded by darkness because no one turned on the outside light. it’s so late, no one would see them anyway.

steve stays at eddie’s, but wayne’s home, so they’re quiet and keep their hands above the waist even though they so desperately want to touch, and kiss, and bite every inch of each other.

they still get carried away, which doesn’t surprise eddie at all. what does surprise eddie is how quickly steve sits in his lap, rutting against his stomach and biting back moans and whimpers and eddie laces their fingers together and squeezes, meeting each thrust with his own. neither of them last long, coming in their pants like virgins. they laugh, but they kiss through it, teeth clacking as they gasp for breath.

they take turns in the bathroom in case wayne wakes up. steve comes back into eddie’s room without a shirt and hair slightly damp. eddie feels his heartbeat quicken as steve hops into bed next to him.

they sleep with steve curled against eddie’s chest, eddie’s arms around his back, sweaty but content.

content and happy.

and when the sun rises the next morning, eddie wakes first and notices another new thing about steve: he drools in his sleep.

[paintedcrows]

Human Bill! I wanna put him in a microwave

Bonus-ish: Really liked the flats on this one!

[turrondeluxe]

team sunset!🌇