#but it’s tru

[hotluncheddie]

For the @steddie-spooktober day 19 prompt : zombie

rated: T | cw: none | tags: post s4, Eddie Munson has a crush on Steve Harrington, Steve is giving

📼📼📼📼

Eddie knocks on Steve’s door at exactly 7pm, precisely when he said he would.

Partly because he’s been looking forward to watching his favourite film again all week. And, well, mostly because he’s been looking forward to watching his favourite film alone with Steve all week. He set enough reminders and planned his day ahead so he’d be right on time.

Steve opens the door a few seconds later, soft and glowing in his glasses and yellow sweater.

Time alone with Steve is still something Eddie can’t really believe is real. Let alone when the guy listening to his rants and actually, genuinely seems interested in what he has to say.

‘Hey Ed’s.’ He says and Eddie bows slightly, presenting his prized VHS of ‘Night of the Living Dead’, the one he found in Indi months ago and hasn’t stopped being obsessed with since.

‘Come on in then.’ Steve smiles at Eddie’s seriousness, walks him towards the low cozy light of the den with a hand on his lower back. ‘I’ll just get us a soda.’ He says softly, leaving Eddie to put the movie in and sit with the tingles that are travelling up his spine.

‘So this movie is, like, a big deal then?’ Steve asks as he comes back in and sits down. Handing Eddie a coke.

‘It is a big deal! He reimagined and reinvented a whole genre of horror. It’s like, it’s actually culturally significant yeah?’ Eddie says, swinging his coke around and darting his eyes around the room.

He looks to his side. Steve staring at him with his head resting in his palm, little smile on his face. ‘Go on.’ He says.

‘So yeah.’ Eddie swallows and shifts, tugging at his shirt. ‘It was released in the 70’s along with some other movies like Pink Flamingos by John Waters and fuckin Eraserhead and Rocky Horror Picture Show dude. Seriously weird shit. And they travelled around and screened late at night. So basically only freaks and weirdos went to see them. But that was perfect because these movies were made by and for freaks and weirdos, you know?’ Eddie finishes, buzzing with excitement.

‘I know now.’ Steve says softly, still looking at Eddie with his little please smile.

Eddie blinks, feeling too hot under Steve’s gaze. ‘Yeah so, anyway, it’s super important that you watch this, I mean you work at Family Video and Halloween is next week. You gotta know the fundamentals Stevie.’

Steve nods and Eddie watches his hand as he presses play. They both relax back against the sofa, Steve scooting a little closer and putting his arm across the back cushions. Eddie tries not to act weird. Tries to focus on the movie, he loves this movie.

But he can feel the heat radiating off of Steve’s chest. Can hear his breathing and smell his cologne.

He can feel his horrendously huge crush for the guy banging at his rib cage, begging to be let free.

But, it really is his favourite movie, so it engrossed Eddie in the end, the thrill of the story unfolding in that little wooden house never gets old.

But then the soft flannel of Steve’s pyjama pants is pressing against Eddie’s jeans. And Steve’s warmth is getting closer, the arm on the sofa shifting to around Eddie’s shoulders. ‘I know you said it was a horror but, it’s kinda spookier than I expected.’ Steve whispers to Eddie in the near darkness. So close now he’s sure Steve must be able to feel the rapid beat of his heart.

Eddie almost pulls away. Too afraid by the potential, by the what if of it going all wrong, of everything he has with Steve falling apart in his fingers. But he’s seen Steve on a battlefield, he’s seen Steve by his bedside in hospital. He’s seen steve in so many ways, and each one is the bravest thing he’s ever known.

So, Eddie decides to be brave too, he leans in close and wraps a protective arm around Steve’s waist. ‘I got you.’ He says, serious. ‘Won’t let the zombies hurt you.’ And he watches Steve’s smile grow, teeth glinting in the light of the television.

Eddie’s cheeks are on fire. But there’s no place he’d rather be, as Steve settles with his head on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie holds on for dear life.

‘Night of the living dead’ is definitely the best movie ever made.

📼📼📼📼

Tag list : @scoops-aboy86 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @marvel-ous-m @thecatkingsthrone

@cheesedoctor @chickensinrainboots @chameleonhair

[softwaring]

[jamjoob]

Screencap redraws for fun

[dragynkeep]

Matching cones

[beardedmrbean]

[haveihitanerve]

Gotham fucking loves Brucie Wayne

Some nice Brucie Wayne headcanons for you all

Hes an idiot and a dork but he makes social events interesting because who else would fall into the chocolate fountain?

At any social event where kids are invited as well he can most definitely be found with the kids, talking to them like they are adults

He never treats anyone as inferior unless they're dicks

He once punched riddler in the face because he interrupted a girls birthday party

He has an entire fashion line that is dedicated to giving people actually comfortable practical clothes

Hes an absolute unit in bed. For both men and women. (either top or bottom)

He once held a man upside down by his ankles and shook him until everything had fallen out of his pockets because he had used to be a bully and was now a dick

Can and will walk teenagers home if its late at night. 

Always tips very generously

He was once in line at a batburger and there was a karen yelling at the poor 16 year old cashier and he walked to the front and just started sticking 100 dollar bills into the tip jar with the nastiest smile aimed at the karen. ‘The more you yell the more i tip.’ (the cashier was, coincidently stephanie brown, and she high fived him)

He has a social media but never uses it unless its to draw awareness to a certain cause or to show off his children. 

He also posts beautiful pictures of gotham, or of mundane everyday things, showcasing the beauty in life

(Is canonically a feminist)

Will protect waiters/servers/janitors from creeps or gotham elite who think theyre better than them

He stopped adopting kids but still pays for as many college tuitions as he can

Funded a city wide disability infrastructure plan so people with wheelchairs could go places too

He once rocked three guys with guns’s shit because they were attempting to molest these little boys

Punched a teacher in the face for making a student cry

Will at any time drop everything the second one of his kids asks him to

There is an entire instagram account dedicated to pictures of him helping old people cross the street

Once a month he visits inmates at the prison and offers them jobs

Genuinely cares for his workers and buys them houses and cars if they need it

Literally created gothams public transportation system and made sure it was free

Teamed up with poison ivy to make public gardens for everyone to enjoy

Funds clean energy research

Any celebrity fan mail he receives he answers personally

One time a little girl asked him to come to her birthday party and he did and brought presents

Taught an entire school basic self defense

Brucie Wayne may be an idiotic little shit but he is the Prince of Gotham and Gothamites would lay down their lives for him more willingly than they would for Batman.

[composeregg]

edit (10/23/2024) now that the poll is over: Original version, with 10 questions, from April 2023 here

And, given that the original is from April 2023, that means I can very easily say:

No, this was not an ISAT reference!

Just because I use parentheses and 2nd person pov and love the same concepts of what a time loop can do to a person doesn't mean it's ISAT

(Yes, I like ISAT, the original poll is why I was recommended the game! But if you look at the original, you can see all the origins of the options to choose from, including what spurred me on with the moss option from the replies)

If I were going to make something for ISAT, I would never be so vague, you can simply look at my ao3 for proof of that

[divinebunnii]

being late because we both needed to cum first

[kingzombear]

Princess "Steal Ur Bitch" Loolilalu CUCKS local jester [NOT CLICKBAIT]

another screenshot redraw lol

[shouyuus]

18+, pitfighter!vi brainrot, bc its girl-dinner time tw: sorta smut, sorta obsessive!vi, codependent relationship, not quite yandere but the vibes r kinda there, but still fluffy bc im me duh

pitfighter!vi who fucks you like she's trying to leave a part of herself inside you, who holds you so hard that the next morning, you wake up to the blue-tinted ghosts of her fingers along your hips and thighs, the dull blossoming bruises littering your neck and shoulders, rings in the shape of her teeth like strange, demented flowers (or perhaps like footprints) the way they trail along your skin, inked there for all to see.

pitfighter!vi who fights like she's trying to break everyone else in the same way she wishes she were broken herself, all fevered, focused rage, and none of the restraint. no patience, only the blunted sting of a punch well-aimed, an elbow to the ribs, a knee to the groin, spit trailing out the edge of her mouth, a grin crooked and bloody hinged between her lips bc she knows when she looks up and scans the crowd, she'll inevitably find you there, watching her with your wide, alluring eyes.

pitfighter!vi who thinks she knows the depths and widths of hunger, has seen and felt it all, growing up in the lanes, and there are so many different kinds, aren't there? the kind that aches dull and deep in the stomach, the kind that claws and roars open in her chest, the kind that tingles like spider-poison all along the length of her spine. still, she's never quite felt a hunger like this -- the kind that threatens to consume her from the inside out the first time she sees you, and at first, it might've been a wholly vindictive thing -- perhaps its because there'd been something in the shadow of your smile that reminds her of -- well, it doesn't matter.

but the first time she kisses you (in the crush of bodies on a crowded dance floor, the music too loud, the bottom of her boots tacky with spilled drinks and blood and whatever else), you'd run your thumb along the line of her jaw so gently, traced the lines of her face with a touch so soft it ran a fissure through her car-alarm heart, and when she'd pulled away, you'd smiled as if she'd given you something other than just the jagged, broken bits of herself.

later, you'd told her that you still appreciated it then. bc it looked like that was all she could afford to give; and she gave it to you anyway.

pitfighter!vi who does not think she will ever get enough of you, and still, the more she gets, the more you give, the deeper the hunger grows. it yawns open inside her, huge and dark and cavernous, carving into her the more that it's fed, and by the gods do you feed it -- the way your head tilts back to allow her access to the smooth expanses of your throat, the darling, moon-lit landscape of your bare chest and shoulders, the way you're so pliant beneath her, your trust pouring from you like drink. and she drinks. and drinks. and drinks.

drinks till she's head-dizzy and heart-full. drinks till her vision blurs but for the sight of you, the shape of you so familiar to her waking moments it does not shock her in the least the first time she wakes up in the morning to the after-images of you in her dreams.

pitfighter!vi who, for the first time in her life thought she had lost all direction, but now -- she feels like at least there's still someone worth protecting, worth fighting for. and she knows, she knows it's not entirely healthy, how much and how hard she falls for you, knows that perhaps it is not the best thing for a woman like her to make someone like you the still-point of her turning universe, you, who manages to shine despite the grime that collects in the city around you. you, who is softness made into an act of defiance, who, one night, curled against her side, told her that there's a certain vindication to smiling in the face of a world who would love nothing more than to rip the joy, bleeding and raw from your throat.

"it's not always easy... actually," you laugh, the sound sweet as spring water as it trickles over her skin, "it's really fucking hard but... why not do it anyway?"

"what, be happy?" her own voice is low and cracked from the fight earlier that night. but you'd kissed a line down her throat and told her that you loved it when she moaned.

"yeah. if the whole world wants us sad and angry... what bigger fuck you is there than to be... happy?"

pitfighter!vi who lets you draw the dark lines down her cheeks, but they're neater than she'd done them herself, who kisses your fingertips when they're stained with the black of her hair-dye, who laughs fully for the first time in... she doesn't even remember how long, when you lean forward and trace a tiny mustache with the leftover ink on your fingers right over her mouth. who sinks into the sound of your laughter like a warm bath, letting it soak into her sore muscles, unspool the tension coiled in her shoulders, the rictus threatening to settle in the set of her knuckles.

she lets you sooth over the harms and hurts that had followed behind her, nipping at her heels like disobedient dogs her whole life, lets you kiss her brows and pull her behind you as you point at the new graffiti art that wasn't there the week before.

pitfighter!vi who has always had a fierce love for zaun because it's her home, but has never stopped to consider just how beautiful of a place it is until she meets you -- and it is beautiful, an angry, pulsing, rebellious beauty, raw and dripping with shimmer-soaked ichor. a beauty carved of disparate limbs and desperate parts, one that is hard-earned and well-fought, the same beauty found in the darkest hours of night, right before the morning dawns, the same beauty she finds reflected back at her when she sees her blurred reflection in a pool of spilt blood on the fighting pit's arena floor.

zaun hums to the tune of debauchery, and for the first time, she's with someone who allows her to be greedy, allows her the breadth and width of wanting so freely. and she thinks it might be spiraling into a full-blown obsession, the way she can't go three seconds without thinking about you, wondering where you are, what you're doing, what you're up to. and you always tell her, tell her about the flowers you saw growing from a crack in the sidewalk, the shaft of sunlight hitting a shard of broken glass in just the right way, how sometimes if you close your eyes and listen, the ticking and clicking noises that run like a baseline thrum through the entire city almost sounds like birdsong.

pitfighter!vi who can't say she's ever fallen properly in love (she thinks that perhaps, once, she got real close), but wonders if this is what it feels like, to feel the void of your physical absence like the itch of a phantom limb, so she does everything she can to keep you close, glares at people if their eyes linger too long on you as the pair of you walk down the street, doubles down on her training regime so that she can fend of anyone who even breathes wrong in your direction.

who can't help pouting every time you pull away to do anything -- to grab another bag of snacks, to ask the bartender for another drink, to listen to something loris is saying -- she has to tamp down the urge to pull you back, to meld you to her side and never let go.

pitfighter!vi who starts to get more strategic with her fights, who saves up money now bc she wants to take you out to dinner, or just buy you nice things once in a while. who spends way too many hexes and cogs on a bouquet of fresh flowers, ones that aren't tainted or bred with the faint, sickly shine of shimmer, and she thinks its all worth it to watch the smile break across your face like dawn over a brand new day -- brilliant, blinding.

she blinks, watching with a fond smile as you fuss over the flowers in your tiny apartment, the space small but cozy, everything neat and in its place. you put the flowers into a tall, slightly chipped glass mug and set them by the window, admiring them from this angle, then that.

"y'like them, angel?"

you nod, grinning as you throw your arms around her, "i love them, vi! i love them so much!"

"good. i'm glad you like 'em. just..." her voice trails off; you cock your head.

"just, what?"

she shrugs, "ah -- just, i always thought it was sad getting flowers cause... they'll wilt someday, right?"

but when she looks back at you, still caught up in her arms, you're still smiling. and there's a fox-fire glint in your eyes that makes something in her stomach twist hot.

"well, there's one kind of flower that won't wilt that i wouldn't mind having here all the time..."

vi blinks, a dry heat creeping up the back of her throat, her heart a wild, fluttering thing caught beneath her cage of ribs.

"yeah?" her voice is hoarse as she swallows around the hope pooling on her tongue like blood. "and what kinda flower is that?"

you lean in, your breath a whisper along her parted lips.

"violets."

pitfighter!vi who moves in three days later, with nothing but some old clothes and her punching bag, which you'd already made room for (somehow) hung up from one of the high rafters in the kitchen, next to the tiny dining table tucked into the corner. who spends the next three days fucking you on every available surface (and some unavailable ones, like against the fridge for instance), telling you that it's only right to christen things now that you're officially living together.

who doesn't bother to wonder if things are moving too fast, and dives in head first because that's the only ways she's ever known to how to do things. who thinks, blithely to herself one night, the warm shape of you curled next to her, sleeping so soundly it almost breaks her heart, that you're probably the first good thing she's ever gotten stuck on -- and she's gotten stuck on a lot of things (fighting, boxing, the guilt, the shame, the anger, the world-ending sorrow of losing it all). its one of the things vander had always warned her about.

"you get into things too hard, kiddo -- gotta learn to pace yourself."

but she doesn't care, because hard's what she was raised on, and it's how she plans on loving you, god, if it's the last thing she does, right or wrong, so be it.

pitfighter!vi who still has her bad nights, still drinks a bit too much sometimes, but at least you're always there to keep her from going too far. and you're the only one who can pull her back, the only one she'll listen to when you tug the drink away from her hands and slide it down the bar towards loris, who'll eye it for a second before downing it and settling up the tab, nodding towards you even as you sling an arm around vi's middle to lead her out of the bar.

who still wakes up screaming some nights, her eyes wide and unseeing, scrabbling at you, tugging you into her if only to bury her face in your shoulder, her whole body wracked with dry-heaving sobs.

"my sister used to think there were monsters under the bed, and make me check down there every night before going to bed," she murmurs, her face inches from yours, her words soft and ever so slightly slurred.

you brush your fingers against her cheek, a comforting, repetative motion -- back and forth, back and forth, till her lashes flutter shut.

"guess she was right... but the monsters never wanna stay under the bed, do they? it's like they always... wanna come out and play..."

you let out a breathy laugh, "or maybe," you offer, your voice low and soothing, "they're just as scared as you are. and they're just looking for someone to scare their own monsters away."

pitfighter!vi who is still not good at slow, but sometimes, when she kisses you, she wishes that had the power to hit pause on time, just so she could stretch out the moment and kiss you forever. she thinks that she'll never be good at patience, but sometimes, when you tell her just gimme a sec! when she's waiting for you to get ready before going out to dinner at jericho's or just for a round of drinks at the bar round the corner, her leaning against the doorway watching as you put the finishing touches of your makeup on yourself in the kitchen mirror -- she thinks she'd give you every last second of the rest of her life if you ever asked her to.

pitfighter!vi who, recently, has really, really started hoping that someday soon, you'll actually ask her to.

taglist: @traiitorjoe @rizzscary @wetcat020 @alex-thegiraffeboyy @nanasemo @saturnhas82moons @unear7hly @drsnowrose @grantaires-waistcoat @isab3lita @ally-all-around @starrysetup22 @lipsent - join the taglist

[girls--complex]

[softwaring]

[revasserium]

soooo thinking about pro!hero shouto being waylaid in the street by a tiny cute girl scrabbling for his autograph, and he's still a bit bewildered by this whole fame thing but he tries his best -- so he bends down to ask her what he'd like signed, only to hear your voice, to look up and see you, just about the prettiest creature he'd ever laid eyes on, running up to the little girl and scooping her up into your arms before bowing and saying --

"i'm so sorry! she just ran off -- you can't do that, mia-chan! your mama will kill me of something happens to you!" before turning back to him with a pleading sort of smile and just, "sorry again -- she's my cousin's daughter -- i promise she doesn't mean to bother -- she's just such a huge fan --"

but he can't help noticing the glow in your cheeks and can't stop himself from wondering if you're a fan too. and what he'd do if you said yes.

"not a bother," he smiles, "it's just part of the job." he looks at the girl now, extending a hand, "thanks for being my fan -- what would you like signed?"

"no really -- you don't have to --" you say, but shouto reaches for a pen all the same.

"no, it's okay. i want to."

so he signs the little girl's handkerchief, and feels his chest go warm at the way she presses it to her chest, grinning wide enough to split the sky. it's only then that she looks back at him with curious, wide eyes and asks --

"aren't you going to sign anything for big sister? she's your big fan too!"

"mia!" you go just about the most darling shade of red, looking anywhere but at shouto; he clears his throat, licking his lips.

"i... i don't mind... if you'd like something --"

"no, please -- we've bothered you enough."

"can she have your number?" mia asks, now positively devious as she looks between him and you, "it was her new years wish when we did our first temple visit --"

"mia! that's enough -- i'm sorry, we'll just go --"

"here." he scribbles down his number and presses it into your hand with a bright blush of his own. and now he's the one who can't look at you, "you don't have to do anything with it -- if you don't want to. but if you do..."

"i -- i do! i just --" you glance back down at mia, grinning smugly in your arms.

"then... you can call me later. or text. whichever." he takes a few steps back, swallowing passed the heartbeat now thundering in the back of his throat.

"yeah. sure -- i will! i mean -- only if you don't mind."

"i don't. really."

"okay."

"okay then. see you."

"yeah... see you... soon."

"yeah. soon."

[onlysushicat]

Hair tutorials

[amarcia]

Laundry Day (in which Anakin is allergic to water)

✨🌙 ART LOG -> @404ama