#favorite things 2024 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kacievvbbbb · 4 months ago

Text

You do get the sense that the fallout of Roger's death and the Roger pirates disbanding not so much traumatized Buggy and Shanks indifferent ways but instead generated such drastically different reactions to the trauma.

While the trauma of everything seemed to push Shanks into the future, always constantly waiting for something, putting plans on hold and then later in place, for this great moment, this great coming that he sees on the Horizon. For Buggy it rooted him firmly in the past keeping him trapped in this grief masquerading as anger.

While Roger's death forced Shanks to grow up fast, it kind of arrested Buggy's development keeping him stuck in those same feelings, rooted int that same place.

You get the sense that Buggy's whole east blue schtick is just one long overdue rebellious phase one big fuck you to Roger and his ideals. He's rebelling against Roger's principles. One of their rules was don't steal from innocent people and Buggy was keeping a whole town in poverty. If Roger and Luffy's pirating styles are diametrically opposed to someone like Blackbeard, who might be the most literal pirate in the entire series, then buggy is the parody of that Blackbeard piratism. He is playing up cruelty, being the most piratey pirate possible, hell he's literally a clown on a stage. It's all a show! It's his own special way of trying to "get back at Roger" of trying to discard everything Roger taught him for this overacted, over exaggerated clownish cruelty. Mentally he never left that execution square. He is still 15, alone and scared.

Hell he literally never left either, while I'm pretty sure Shanks' booked it out of the east blue as fast as he could, Buggy never lef, might have never left, if not for Luffy. It's part of why Luffy bothers him so much, he's just like Roger everything that Buggy is trying hard to forget and here comes this kid, whose never even met the Captain but is wearing his hat, shoving it right back in his face.

It makes sense that he never leaves the east blue till Luffy literally forces him out of it (fucking with Luffy gets him captured and imprisoned) and it makes sense that it's Luffy that literally breaks him out of prison, literally sets him free, and on the path to greatness that maybe he was always meant to achieve (even if he trips his way into it). This boy that is tragically so much like his old captain but so beautifully unabashedly himself, is what Buggy needs to start letting go off the past, to start trying to move forward.

Maybe that's why Buggy, at what could arguably be described as his lowest moment, gets the strength to free himself from his own self imprisonment, realizing that even back then he was locking himself away and pinning his own dreams on Shanks. And, maybe for the first time ever, Buggy really own his dream. He declares to his tormentors and his crew and the entire world that; actually He wants to find the one piece, him, as captain of his own crew, this crew, not just a part of someone else's. That's his dream and he's willing to turn the world upside down to do it.

#Buggy for Pirate king 2024 #I can't lie I believe that he might actually do it. It might be just for the bit and just for a few seconds but he'll do it!#No where else for him to trip up too #I think it's great that yeah Luffy liberates kingdoms in all these big ways #but from the beginning of the story in all these little ways he's been setting people free and in his own little way he set Buggy free too #my favorite thing recently has been dissecting all the ways in which how the roger pirating handling of everything ruined these boys lives #honestly not just them judging from what we've seen it's the whole crew cause Rayleigh's defiantly not doing okay #Buggy has such middle child syndrome despite being the exact same age as Shanks and not having a younger sibling #like of course he was going to feel like he had to fall under Shanks Shanks probably felt chosen by god it's hard not to feel second to tha #This feels more like a collection of thoughts than the cohesive essay I was going for #but I guess that's what happens when you literally only have a collection of thoughs #It took me a while but I actually fuck with the star clown #buggy the star clown #buggy pirates #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #one piece analysis #character analysis #shanks #red haired shanks #cross guild #roger pirates #gol d. roger #monkey d. luffy #buggy #shanks and buggy #one piece #one piece thoughts #one piece meta #op

247 notes · View notes

shushmal · 6 months ago

Text

Stranger to Myself (I think of Home)

For @steddie-week Day 5! Rated T — Check the tags and content warnings!

Eddie is a monster.

Eddie started watching Steve because it didn’t hurt so bad. Didn’t hurt like it does with every glimpse he catches of Wayne, of Dustin. The people who had loved Eddie when he was Eddie. But Steve—Steve was safe. Steve was a boy Eddie knew in passing glances and high school gossip, a guy who was laughing with his friends in another room at every party, a man who planted his feet and fought monsters and helped save the world. Steve who told Eddie to be safe, because Steve was kind when he didn't have to be, when he wasn't expected to—so Eddie finds himself watching Steve instead.

Because Eddie is a monster, and Steve knows exactly what to do with monsters. Eddie knows this.

To Steve, it wouldn't matter that Eddie is the last little bit of the apocalypse still kicking around Hawkins. Eddie who had been chewed up and spat out of hell at the last second, just before the final dungeon slammed shut, sneaking through the shadows unseen, past the unsuspecting heroes wrapped up in their victory. Past his friends, the people who had tried to keep Eddie safe. Past Dustin, who’s face had already been changed by grief.

Past Steve, as well. Steve, who told Eddie to be safe, and Eddie hadn’t.

Eddie wonders sometimes, what Vecna really had in mind for him.

But Eddie is just an unfinished experiment, not quite who he used to be, but not yet the thing Vecna had been trying to twist him into, before the wrinkly ballsack bastard bit it and disintegrated into dust like some b-grade horror movie villain written by some unimaginative hack that shouldn’t have even been in the writer’s room.

He’s the last piece of the Upside Down, Vecna’s last monster, but Eddie’s worst crime post-resurrection is a bit of misdemeanor stalking, simple battery, and animal cruelty. A guy’s gotta eat, afterall. It had taken a while to figure out his own exact brand of vampirism, but Eddie’s gone a few years now without killing anything or anyone. He would be proud of it, but instead he watches Steve make dinner and feels sick on the aftertaste of iron and salt still coating his tongue.

Eddie had started watching Steve because it didn’t hurt, because Steve would take care of it, if Eddie ever needed to be put down. Eddie knows this.

So, it didn’t hurt so bad to watch Steve—until it did.

By then, Eddie was too far gone and couldn’t stop.

His Steve who came back to his lonely castle, days and days after that final battle, after the climax of the story, the end of a legend, still bloody and scorched, none the wiser to the monster peering through his windows, watching. And that was Eddie’s first clue, that was how Eddie first learned that he wasn’t really Eddie anymore—that nervous energy he used to have in life had died with him. Now he sits motionless in the tall pines behind Steve’s house for hours and days, unmoving, as he watches Steve live.

Sometimes, Steve looks out his window, eyes scanning the treetops like he knows Eddie’s there. Everytime, Eddie sits up a little straighter, like a dog eager for attention. But everytime, Steve’s eyes drift past him, unseeing, searching.

It leaves Eddie—already out of step with life, with humanity—a little unsettled, a little too hopeful. Eddie is a thing that shouldn’t be seen ever again, a dead man without a heartbeat, without breath in his lungs, without a reason to exist and yet still here. He wishes he were still dead. He wishes even more that Steve knew he was there, that Steve was looking for him. But Eddie knows better. Eddie can’t go to Steve, because Eddie is a monster and Steve has fought enough monsters. Eddie doesn’t want to get added to the list. He doesn’t want to do that to Steve.

Eddie sits in the trees instead, unmoving and watching for days and weeks. Sometimes he leaves, to feed. Sometimes he stands in the middle of Steve’s empty house when he’s gone, breathing in the lonely silence. Sometimes, he closes his eyes and dreams.

But they’re never his own dreams.

And he never, ever visits anyone else in their sleep, in their dreams and nightmares. No one, except for Steve. His Steve, who’s dreaming of a summer day, sun high in the sky, sitting on the top of skull rock with a six pack and a cigarette. It’s such a simple, beautiful dream. All of Steve’s dreams are like that. Eddie watches the line of Steve’s neck as he tilts his head back in the sunlight, face catching the July warmth.

Steve doesn’t startle when Eddie sits beside him. Just leans in until his head rests on Eddie’s shoulder. It’s beautiful, he’s so beautiful, Eddie wants to cry.

“I miss you,” Steve whispers, like it’s a secret. He presses a smile into Eddie’s jacket. “Isn’t that silly? I barely even knew you.”

Eddie has to swallow back the emotion filling his throat. “Yeah, that’s pretty silly,” he croaks.

“I wanted to though,” Steve sighs. He leans even closer, hands grasping at Eddie’s sleeve, the back of his shirt, and Eddie wishes they could melt into each other, become one thing, become Steve with just Eddie hiding between Steve’s ribs, in his blood, sitting in the center of his chest right next to his heart. “I wanted to know you. I wanted to kiss you so bad.”

If this were real, if they were really sitting on skull rock in the sunlight right now, if Eddie was human, he would be crying. But here, in Steve’s dream, he doesn’t, can’t. Maybe Steve doesn’t want him to be sad.

“Really?” he breathes instead. “Me?”

Steve hums, his hand sliding down into Eddie’s, fingers warm, soft. “Robin calls you my Great Bisexual Awakening.”

Eddie barks a laugh, throwing his head back. He wants to be sobbing, but he laughs instead and when he stops, Steve is looking up at him, painted dream soft and sweet. They watch each other, Eddie cataloging the specks of gold and green in Steve’s eyes. He’s beautiful.

But then Steve blinks, and the corner of his mouth turns down, smile falling away. Eddie feels his skin prickle. He feels watched.

“I miss you,” Steve says again, urgent. And then, just like that, he smiles again, and the feeling’s gone, and Steve presses his face once more into Eddie’s shoulder. “Tell me something.”

Eddie tries to shake off the feeling of disquiet, to relax back into the tenderness of Steve’s dream. “Like what?”’

“Something I don’t know.” He’s beautiful, so beautiful, and Eddie adores him, loves him so much.

“I wanted to kiss you, too.”

Eddie opens his eyes, his breath sharp in the silent forest, and watches as Steve sits up in his bed, gripping the blankets tight in his fists. Even from here, in his haven in the trees, he can see the tears on Steve’s face. He never wants Steve to cry.

When morning comes, he steals into Steve’s home, buries himself in the lingering warmth of his sheets after Steve leaves for work. The fading smell of him is intoxicating, even the salty sting of Steve’s tears, and Eddie wants so desperately. Wants him from the pain in his throat, the hitch in his breath, the way he’s been hollowed from the inside out. Everything has been taken out of Eddie, scooped from between his ribs and scraped smooth, an empty jack o’lantern waiting to rot on the front step.

The wanting is worse than the starving, the thirst. Eddie can’t cry anymore, he isn’t human enough to, but he wishes he could.

Instead, he lays in Steve’s bed, breathes him in, and disappears into the woods behind Steve’s home when he hears the rumble of Steve’s car turn onto the street. He watches as Steve falls into the bed, long gone cold since Eddie has soaked up all the warmth from the blankets in the long hours of Steve's absence. He watches, a monster, as Steve’s eyes glance through the window, eyes on the trees. Straightens up, hoping and wanting, and slumps as that gaze slides past him. He watches Steve’s evening with longing building in his chest, and when Steve slips beneath his covers, Eddie closes his eyes.

“What are you waiting for?” he asks.

Steve is sitting on the edge of his roof in this dream, watching the forest intently. He doesn’t turn his head towards Eddie, caught on a particular spot in the woods.

“You, I think. At least, I think it’s you. I hope it’s you.”

Eddie leans in close, hoping that Steve will turn his eyes, to look at Eddie, to give him that sweet, dreamy smile. “You shouldn’t bother waiting for something like me,” he tells Steve, desperate for those pretty eyes to look at him. “You should be happy.”

“I am happy,” Steve murmurs. He doesn’t look happy. He doesn’t look at Eddie. He watches the distant trees, standing guard. “I’m happy waiting. I think I can wait forever.”

Eddie doesn’t dare touch him, doesn’t dare turn Steve’s head. Even though it hurts. It hurts so bad, so Eddie opens his eyes. In the distance, Steve turns in his bed, chest expanding with a sleepy sigh, and doesn’t leave his dreams.

Morning comes again, and the night falls again, morning and night and morning. Eddie rises from his perch, glides closer to the empty house to steal through the unlocked door. He lays in Steve’s bed, in the shadow of Steve’s warmth left on the sheets. Breathes him in, even though Eddie needs no air. He leaves when he hears the rumble of a familiar engine. Night falls. He closes his eyes.

Eddie watches the way Steve sits on the edge of his roof again, feet dangling, eyes scanning the treeline at the back of his house, quiet and sentry. Like he’s waiting for another monster to appear between the tree trunks. Eddie sits beside him, and doesn’t speak, not even when Steve whispers, only once.

“I miss you.”

Morning comes again, and then night. Sun and moon, wax and wane. The summer heat does not bother Eddie, nor does the winter snow. He imagines building a family of snowmen in Steve’s yard, company for a lonely house. No one visits Steve here. Like they’d forgotten Steve altogether, and Eddie’s the only one left to bear witness to Steve Harrington. Steve who is lonely, who sleeps and dreams and waits for the monster in the woods. Or maybe…

Maybe Steve told them not to come here. Because here is only for Steve, and only for Eddie.

Night falls, and then the morning breaks. Steve doesn’t rise from the bed.

Uneasily, Eddie shifts. Snow slides from his shoulders, landing in heavy thumps on the forest floor below him. He watches as Steve rolls onto his back, arm over his eyes, mouth twisted in pain. Even from here, he can see the tears on Steve’s face. He watches Steve lay in bed the entire day, until night falls. Eddie closes his eyes.

Steve’s dream isn’t a dream this time—a vast darkness instead, stretching long and far. Eddie takes a hesitant step. Water splashes beneath his bare foot. He turns.

And suddenly, it’s like he can hear Steve in his ear, whispering, “I’m happy waiting. I think I can wait forever.”

Eddie turns again, and Steve is there, watching, waiting. Eddie feels the instinct of it, the prickling awareness of being seen. It settles over his skin, sharp and biting like ants. Eddie is the monster, and Steve has found him. His gaze roots Eddie where he stands, water lapping against his toes. The ripples roll away from him, stretching the unreachable distance between Eddie and Steve, distant stars, until they crash against Steve’s feet, and the water settles again, falls calm.

“I miss you though,” Steve whispers, right into Eddie’s ear. “I can wait forever, but I miss you.”

“Really?” Eddie asks. It echoes through the dark. He can see the way Steve smiles, even from so far away.

“Of course,” Steve whispers. “I’m waiting for—”

Dawn breaks through the trees, and Eddie opens his eyes with a gasp. The sound is sharp through the silent forest. Morning mist rises from the pine strewn ground. Steve isn’t in his bed anymore, and Eddie feels himself almost panic, gaze searching.

Searching, until he finds Steve, not even three feet up, sitting above his window on the roof. He stares out into the trees, stares right at Eddie, finally sees the monster in the woods. That gaze raises the hair on Eddie’s arm, animal instinct tightening his muscles, his bones. Steve watches him from his perch on the roof, watches Eddie watch him back.

He’s the most beautiful thing Eddie’s ever seen.

Because Steve’s not standing guard. He’s waiting. Waiting for the thing in the woods, for Eddie to finally come home.

Eddie shouldn’t, shouldn’t go to him, but now that he knows, how can he make Steve wait a moment longer?

Steve gasps when he appears, but it’s not fear in his eyes when he looks at Eddie. Eddie feels it again, feels watched, feels seen. Steve looks up at him and his smile is the most beautiful thing Eddie’s ever seen.

“There you are,” he whispers. “I missed you."

#steddie #steddie week 2024 #my fic #this is genuinely one of my favorite things i've written in a long time #so im posting the whole thing on tumblr too in case you don't wanna go to ao3 ahaha #this is super soft dw

237 notes · View notes