#favorite things 2024
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March is over can't believe it but excited here are the things that I loved in March:
https://www.madewell.com/alpaca-blend-v-neck-cardigan-sweater-99107315796.html?source=googlePLA&noPopUp=true&srcCode=Paid_Search%7CShopping_NonBrand_PMax_NCA%7CGoogle%7CMWGGBS00002_99107315796_18211078200___c_pla_online__9061089&utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=Madewell_Shopping_PLA_US_Women_HighInventory_PMax&utm_term=&utm_content=shopping_ads&gad_source=1&gclid=CjwKCAjwtqmwBhBVEiwAL-WAYbidwIjOCG8YmpcUZBi_zlqy4_Vdlc1BC3t1s8AoqLb1T4KNAFAtQhoCvjEQAvD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds
#march#march favorite things#personal#things that fascinated me in march#me fascinan#not sponsored#tinned fish girl#fishwife smoked rainbow trout#fishwife#block printing#adidas spezial#voluspa temple moss candle#kettlebell workouts#yellow everything#madewell yellow sweater#bistro tables#favorite things 2024#internet scrapbook
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swordtember day 8: sun
#reminding everyone how the book says that post-canon wn taught lsz the wen clan sword forms#which is adorable#genuinely one of my favorite things#the only other time wn is mentioned to use a sword is when he frees the juniors during the second siege#not his usual style but just as hot#what#did someone say something#anyway#swordtember#swordtember 2024#mdzs#mo dao zu shi#grandmaster of demonic cultivation#mdzs fanart#lan sizhui#wen ning#post canon
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linktober day 27: rest
#personal favorite of the whole month. i do one thing really really really well and its drawing these losers in love#linktober#linktober 2024#loz#legend of zelda#botw#breath of the wild#totk#tears of the kingdom#zelink#skribbles
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god's favorite
redraw of this :3
#my art#puella magi madoka magica#madoka magica#pmmm#madoka kaname#homura akemi#madohomu#FINALLY REDREW THIS THING.#i wouldn't say that i. hate the original... but i pretty strongly dislike it#nothing wrong with it. its just. not my favorite. i dont think its my best work#so i redrew it into something im actually happy with!!#2024
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Forest Guardians
#artists on tumblr#starting off 2024 with my favorite totally normal size animal the moose#if you've seen a big one irl you know what i mean#the year is starting with seemingly every big corporation hopping on the A I train#depressing#keep on creating my fellow artists#and crafters and writers#and musicians and voice actors#don't let them automate the fun out of your life#i don't care if machines can make art more “efficiently”#i don't want to be efficient!#i want to be unhinged!#be unhinged about your art draw your blorbos draw the things that claw at your brain don't be civil about it like the machines#whatever you're creating i'm proud of you
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makes me giggle to think of X2 Logan meeting dp&w Logan when this is a thing
#“don't tell me you fuckin liked it 🤨” “you have no idea 😃”#x2 logan is going to see that in the tva screens and go 🤨😳🏳️🌈⁉️#dp&w Logan going “you don't understand he's fucked up he's my favorite of these assholes”#and then turn around and yell at wade “FUCKTARD”#hear the distinct “oh he's adorable can't resist flirting with me across the room LOVE YOU TOO SHITFACE”#“KEEP AN EYE ON OUR DAUGHTER OR IT'S MY SWORDS IN YOUR DELICIOUS ABS IN THREE SECONDS”#x2 Logan going 🤨 at the daughter in question mary puppins#Logan being as hung up on Jean as he'd been might just Reconsider mr wade wilson#👀👀👀👀👀👀👀#pspsps Logan#one rainbow brigade bitch to another? i dont think jean can do that#she clawed u up that one time but see what walmart santa claus is doing here#he's riddling you with bullets ✅ fuckin emptying the cartridges on your scrumdiddlydumptruck ass#he's stabbing adamantium ADAMANTIUM swords in you up until the sword hilts ✅#Logan listen#jean needed to be with phoenix first before Doing All Those Things Which She Did With You#but Deadpool? Deadpool is in it for the shits and giggles#Look. I'm not a woman of science. But there seems to be Chemistry among us.#I'd hit the emergency meeting button but i don't fucking want to 😁#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool#wolverine#deadpool 3#deadpool 2024#logan howlett#wade wilson#poolverine#deadclaws#Deadpool and Wolverine Honda#Deadpool and Wolverine Honda Odyssey
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girlbossing too close to the sun.
#art#ive literally just been treating this game as a library simuator#i walk from bookseller to bookseller opening up all of their books#vivecs sermons are either a highlight or the point at which i stop reading#ive been trying to convince the ordinators that imitation is the highest form of flattery but it hasnt been working#let me wear your helmets please theyre so funny..#posting morrowind in 2024 isnt a cry for help but youre not wrong to be concerned.#morrowind#almalexia#vivec#im going to explain the chitin armor give me a moment#so the bonewalker nerevar on the shrines is adorable and it was only after drawing it however many times that i realized#it looked relatively close to a modified chitin armor#and so i modified chitin armor a few times and this was probably the cutest result#i also know i drew almalexia relatively pristine and untouched by years and vivec not so much but my thought process was#vivecs role as if not a favorite then the most accessible divine or the most “hands on” in a manner of speaking#acting in ways visible to the general population or actions explicitly brought to their attention#like not that almalexia isnt doing anything she is#but the dissemination of information regarding that is very different etc etc etc#anyways to a certain extent a god is the face on a shrine or in art or upon a statue or carving#but vivecs presence is interwoven with the geography of vvardenfell especially and his actions and writings with pubished materials#and the arts and culture and customs etc etc etc#so to me the face of a god you know and feel a commonality with or a god that walks alongside you is a face you would recognize#and vivec is already otherworldly looking enough#the simple mark of the years on his skin in some way grounding him in reality felt more right#that and i think the ways in which he and almalexia care about outward appearance are slightly different- they prioritize different things#and the ways they present outward power and their embodiment of their respective attributes share some similarities as they both have that#important preoccupation with physical power and physical strength to a certain degree#oh my god nobody read this i am yapping so bad.#tes
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day eleven - worship
Zeb: Karabast, Alex. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?
full (very spicy) version on ao3
#hayes' inktober 2024#kal with a 80s fluffy mullet is my new favorite thing#kalluzeb#alexsandr kallus#agent kallus#garazeb orrelios
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mommy let you use her ipad, you were barely two
and it did all the things we designed it to do
now look at you, look at you!
(objectober 2024 day 10: internet)
#dandy's doodles#inanimate insanity#ii#ii steve cobs#ii mephone#ii spoilers#ii 16 spoilers#objectober#objectober 2024#okay i'll be honest. the final drawing barely fits the prompt#however! it was inspired by it#'internet' immediately made me think of 'welcome to the internet' by bo burnham#and my mind instantly jumped to 'and it did all the things we designed it to do'#and y'know... steve cobs designed mephone to be able to create things#and so in a way mephone is fulfilling his purpose by creating the contestants#he's fulfilling his purpose by doing what his dad did#and then that made me think of the garden of eden story#where god creates both adam and the tree of knowledge#he tells adam not to eat its fruit and yet adam inevitably does; thus adam gains free will#and one has to wonder if that was god's intention all along - for humans to have free will#whereby adam - through the apparent defiance of god - is able to become exactly what he was created for#and y'know... mephone making his show as a rebellion against cobs...#only for that very show to be a creation borne of his intended purpose#so yeah. my mind jumped from bo burnham to the biblical creation of man#anyway!! very very happy with how this turned out#my favorite part is the charger snakes. i'm so glad i came up with that idea#also cobs' arm! that turned out really well! i referenced my own hand for his!!#in any event... it turns out i really really like biblical imagery and symbolism huh#also yes i did stay up all night like a maniac drawing this. the idea came to me and i just had to see it through :D i'm glad i did
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like idk it just seems actually nefarious to take one of the very few widely known instances of queerness in older history being a symbol to show queer people that we've always existed and aren't alone for CENTURIES and taking away the queerness from it. like. i know some people say that ''the queerness isnt important in the book" which i mean in my opinion i could go off for 10k words in an essay as to how basil's love for dorian is integral to the story BUT EVEN APART from that its really just. having a real explicitly queer character in such an old and widely regarded classic novel is HUGE for queer history and this is just. literally like. its 2024. why are you doing queer erasure to DORIAN GRAY
#MAKE YOUR OWN SHIT OR LIKE GET OUTTT#WHAT????#also not the cishets going ''omggg queer people are predatory enough so it shouldnt change it to ship incest now" WHAT??????#girl do you see. what you are doing. girl. @ the creator#why do they let these people make adaptations. what the actual hell#amory rambles#SORRY IM LITERALLY LIKE ACTUALLY SO LIKE. DEEPLY OFFENDED RN WHICH IS LIKE SUCH A WORD TO USE I KNOW BUT LIKE#ITS ALL I CAN THINK OF TO SAY BECAUSE WHAT. THE HELL.#as an anthropology/creative writing major the importance of having these types of evidences of queer culture in history so far back#is something insurmountable in validating queerness#and to take that and like. oh my goddd#like i could go off for ages about even queer authors that arent so widely known as queer/didnt write explicitly queer things like gogol#who are erased to a point where you have to dig to learn about his history because its been so covered up by people trying to erase us#and like#in the year 2024 dear fucking lord!!#what are we doing???#sorry my dfjlksdfjsdf dfih8sojidfk s. sidhfojl kmsdf . im so actually mad right now LMAOOO#the picture of dorian gray#dorian gray#oscar wilde#tpodg#and like tpodg isnt even one of my favorite novels like i like it a lot but i see it as so fucking important#anywho#so glad we are all being loud as hell about this bc thats the way to make this mfer take notice
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a bit late. life is weird. november + is here, october has gone. for my favorite things, read on. (I don't own any images.)
youtube
#favorite things#favorite things 2024#october#october 2024#the penguin sofia falcone gigante#la canadienne suede boots#the house of the spirits isabel allende#fall house parties#pumpkin chocolate chip cookies#catbird jewelry#embroidery#canva#internet scrapbook#Youtube
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Safe With Leo
bayverse leo x female reader
SFW, reader in peril off screen, injured reader, Leo pining like a TREE, new nickname acquired, reader is not coping well after violence.
(I think the backstory me and @fuckedupcleric decided to go with was reader got carjacked then Leo did his own carjacking to get her back, but it's up for reader interpretation)
“Where do you think you’re going?”
His voice was low and even, at odds with the way his hands were clenched tightly into fists at his sides. Your gaze lingered on where the right was freshly bandaged, the strips of linen tight, the smell of ointment heavy in the air surrounding him.
The hallway where Leo caught you skulking wasn’t very wide. His shell blocked most of the light from the arcade around the corner. You tried, and failed, not to shrink in on yourself, despite the little voice screaming at you that it was Leo, the one person you always felt safe with. Should always feel safe with.
“Can’t sleep.” You told him, finally, honestly, too tired and too jittery to be able to stand the beeping and sterile cleanliness of the needle room. Your voice was a croaky thing, raw from screaming and sobbing yourself hoarse. Your ears rang, where you had deafened yourself in the enclosed space. Your palms and feet were raw, bruised from the concrete and trying to scratch yourself free. Your arms stung underneath where you were gripping onto your biceps in an attempt to hold yourself together. You could feel the deep cuts littered there, even through the bandages underneath the soft sleep shirt covering you. Covering you, you reminded yourself.
Safe with Leo, you told yourself again.
He let out a slow, heavy breath, the kind you were used to hearing directed at Raph, or Mikey, when either was being particularly annoying. It twisted something deep inside your gut, soured the saliva in the back of your mouth. The feeling of being trapped settled back in your gut when he swayed to the side, creating a space for you to slip past him.
He followed you, like a hound shadowing your footsteps, raising the hair along the nape of your neck. You heard him huff, the noise quiet, before he dropped back another step.
His voice was soft, but firm, when you reached the atrium, “Turn left, head to my room.”
You stalled, foot catching on the cold floor, a wince pulling at your mouth before you could hide the pain, “But-”
Leo shook his head, closing his eyes to dismiss your protest, “There’s no way you’re going to sleep on that couch, blossom.”
Blossom.
That was a new nickname. Before tonight, he’d always used your name, formal and polite, or on the rare occasion, if you were being especially sassy, he’d drop ‘princess’ in a smooth and silky voice that never failed to shut you up in a way Raph couldn’t when he teased you.
Tonight, however, Leo hadn’t whispered your name when he’d scooped you out of the trunk of the car hours before. No, it’d been blossom he’d pressed against your bloodied hair, voice wrecked and shaking as he’d cradled you in his arms and bared his teeth at Donnie when his brother had tried to take you away. It had been blossom he’d cooed at you while holding you still so Donnie could bandage the cuts on your arms, back and legs while you cried.
It’d been blossom he’d whispered when everything had become too much and you’d curled up into a little ball, the last word you’d heard when Donnie had ushered everyone out of the needle room.
Hearing it now, your feet resumed automatically, not ready to press and ask questions, not liking the newfound uncertainty that surrounded your feelings where Leonardo was concerned.
He shadowed you all the way to his room, his normal, soothing demeanor gone, feeling more like a caged animal at your back than the friend you had grown to know these past two years.
You stalled just inside the door, taking in the neat and orderly room that you’d only seen in passing before. “I don’t… think I should be here.”
It felt sacrilegious. A privilege you hadn’t earned. An insight to Leo that made your palms sweaty and itchy and your stomach feel like lead. You wanted to be here…
You feared it.
He was watching you with an unreadable expression when you turned. “Do you want to go back to the needle room?”
Needle Room. Just the name sent a shiver down your spine, goosebumps and chills breaking out as you recalled the phantom smell of rubbing alcohol and disinfectant.
“No,” you whispered, too tired to keep the petulant edge from your voice despite the fact you knew he hated it.
Leo sighed again, his shoulders moving with the motion, and you idly realized his hands had yet to move, or unclench, from the rigid way he kept them at his sides. “Then, you,” He tipped his beak towards you, then to a point across the room, “bed.”
He waited, patient as the moon, for you to cross the room, silent as you pulled back the covers and slipped between the sheets. You weren’t sure what to make of the way his eyes lingered for a moment, or of the way tension seemed to bleed out from his frame.
“Get some sleep.” He offered, voice noticeably softer, closer to that rumble you remember from the nightmare of your rescue. “If you need me, I’ll be just down the hall.”
You watched, unblinking, as he turned and disappeared from the doorway, not even a scuff of his feet to announce his departure.
Maybe you were dreaming, maybe it had been a fictitious Leonardo that had offered the one thing you’d dreamt of, the one thing that you were sure you’d never get to experience. The one wish you’d squashed and squeezed, hoping one day it would disappear completely.
You were in his space. You looked slowly around the room, taking in the little pieces of decor, and the way everything was set just so. It screamed Leo, down to the soft blue blankets you were curled up under.
Safe. The room told you. Safe from prying eyes, from staticy emotion boiling off other’s bodies, from questions you weren’t in any state to answer.
Safe with Leo.
Your eyelids fluttered, tension bleeding out of your spine with every deep inhale, letting the stale scent of teakwood and jasmine on the sheets, the incense from across the room, the tea on the little table beside your head, swirl together, lulling you to sleep with the scent of Leo.
Safe with Leo.
#Yorshie in early 2024: I don't have a favorite turtle.#Turtle Fam: yeah. sure. totally. hey. why is every tmnt thing you own Leonardo.#me holding up the singular tiny mikey with bunny ears like he can save me#my writing snippets#older writing. but still goody.#tmnt leonardo#tmnt leonardo x reader#bayverse leonardo#bayverse leonardo x reader#bayverse leo x reader#hmmmm. adding this in the tags: reader being trapped in the trunk of the car for who knows how long.#not knowing where you're heading. knowing whoever is in the car means you harm.#You’re hurt. bleeding. Delirious. When the car finally stops.#trunk pops open and you get the sheer terror for just a moment before#a fucking angry turtle man lands on the roof of said car#chinhands#Cw reader in peril#Trauma#Reader in peril
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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
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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
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esteban ocon being considered really tall when he's shorter than my dad, brothers, and a lot of my male friends is so funny to me
part 2 part 3
#fernando alonso is my hero and the person i aspire to be#also theres so many f1 textposts out there and i tried my best to not use the same textposts and stuff but if i accidently copied someone#then lmk and ill take it down and u can also shoot me#also not even from a shipping perspective but the whole charles and max childhood rivals to whatever they are now red and blue thing#is actually crazy#like no one is doing it like them#seriously it doesnt even feel real like thats a fictional story to me#fernando alonso my favorite rookie#logan sargeant for president 2024#lets be real hes a better option than our current ones#lewis hamilton#nico rosberg#fernando alonso#charles leclerc#yuki tsunoda#logan sargeant#max verstappen#sebastian vettel#esteban ocon#lh44#nr6#fa14#cl16#yt22#ls2#mv1#sv5#mercedes#ferrari#reds textpost tag
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vito
#alek art#total drama#td mike#2024#super experimental piece here... somewhat vent-ish#tw csa ->#vito's existence makes me very sad. a teen with a trauma induced disorder has an alter that shows up when he gets his shirt taken off#this alter is hypersexual#thinking about mike's biography where he said his favorite part of being a kid was being out the house... riding his bike#its messed up idk#mal fronting after mike gets servere head injuries (getting hit with a club -> getting hit with a shovel -> mike hitting himself w a rock)#a lot of bad things happened to him as a child (ik hes a system so thats a given) but even with what we see its just bad.#this drawing was mostly made w vito in mind but mike's inner turmoil and internalized ableism is also a thing here . multi leveled
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