#i had a more detailed drawing in my head for this but i think it conveys it better simple HFJJFH
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
hitlikehammers Ā· 2 days ago
Text
ignis obscura (dragon-sacrifice!Steve falls for random-man-in-the-woods(?)!Eddie before Steve goes to get eaten) (???)
feat. lots of love-at-first-sight, soul-deep devotion sorta shit
Tumblr media
When a dragon arrives within telling-distance, the town nearest the lair it claims must send the sacrifice; their most valued possession. Everyone knows this.
It was just that no one in Hawkins had ever imaginedā€”neverĀ reallyĀ believedā€”that of all the villages, a dragon would come toĀ them.
Steve had imagined it, though. As a boy, heā€™d thought it an adventure. As a teenager, heā€™d fancied it something of an escape.
Now, when it happens? As a young man, Steve Harrington mostly just thinksĀ of course it goes likeĀ this.
Because heā€™s the disappointing-but-only son of the mayor, in a town where mayoral wealth rivals the coffers of the crown, and if the dragon wants value? Steveā€™s the gateway to whatever riches have been hoarded, whatever small power may be marshaled to command more, to rule, to gather up virgins if Steve himself proved insufficient to that fabled taskā€”though he was renowned as the most comely of his people, having just dipped his toe into his prime while keeping the rosy flush to his cheeks alongside the strength in his arms: perfect timing, really. It helped pad the argument for him as the tribute.
As if maybe the dragon had waited, had watched. Had known what it wanted, and swooped in with intent.
Steve couldnā€™t give two ratsā€™ asses what the dragon did or didnā€™t do, as he made his way through the woods and up the mountain. The stories of sacrifice always paired with the same end: no matter how you pleased the dragon, the tribute did not live to descend to their home again.
So really, at this point, it was merely a question ofĀ howĀ Steve would meet his end. At the dragonā€™s mercy, of course, but: more likeĀ details.
Steve distracts himself with arguments for whether itā€™s wiser, or more efficient, to carve human flesh with claws or teeth, and itā€™s a job done so well that he not only finds himself wholly turned around on this trek, far too close to nightfall, and not nearly as near to the cave heā€™s aiming for as he need be, but more than that:
He fails to notice heā€™s no longer alone.
ā€œAre you lost?ā€
There is a honey-smooth quality to the voice that rings out butā€¦deeper. Darker even, though it doesnā€™t strike warning between Steveā€™s lungs. Itā€™sā€¦caramelized, and slow slip of thickā€¦almost comfort. Steve fights to keep a clear head: not all dangers are apparent. Enchantment and faerie mischief, even, could have found him in his mindless wandering.
ā€œLost?ā€ Steve tries to scoff at the right tone of haughty; ā€œIā€™ve lived here my entire lifeā€”ā€œ
ā€œIn these deserted woods?ā€ the voice, and now thereā€™s a figure that draws nearer, closer in the growing claim of the moon for light but still more silhouette than anything as itā€”he, the voice is male, Steve is near-certainā€”turns and assesses their immediate surroundings before tutting thrice:
ā€œStrange choice of domicile.ā€
And itā€™s mocking, of course it is: but the honey-caramel of the voice is a molten thing. It warms Steve deep and he cannot even be cross.
ā€œI,ā€ he starts, but sees not point to finishing before he sighs and admits, to himself as much as to the stranger:
ā€œYes, I am lost.ā€
ā€œBut youā€™ve lived here your whole life!ā€ the stranger slaps a palm to his own cheek, mouth dropped in faux-horror but he looks soā€¦earnest. And maybe adorable with it, so much so that Steve canā€™t help but chuckle a little helplessly for it all.
ā€œHush,ā€ he chides, half-heartedly at best. ā€œI was supposed to get to the caves by nightfall.ā€
ā€œOoo,ā€ the stranger leans in, as if to prepare for a secret; Steve didnā€™t realize he was so close; ā€œscintillating dinner date?ā€
Steve canā€™t help it but to snort.
ā€œBy a measure,ā€ Steve deadpans, before clearing his throat; ā€œI need to present myself to the dragon.ā€ When the strange man stares at him unblinking Steve deflates a little.
ā€œYou know, hot, fire,ā€ he gestures broadly; everyone knows what comes at the end of a sacrifice: ā€œdinnerā€¦ā€
ā€œWhy are you looking for a dragon?ā€ the other man asks, his lips pulling down a bit in just-shy-of-a-frown. Steve doesnā€™t like the look on him, so he tries to put on a bit of a show, match the strangerā€™s teasing energy from before as best he can in the given circumstances:
ā€œIĀ just so happen to be the village sacrifice,ā€ Steve announces, chest puffed a bit, but he fails to do anything but deepen the frown heā€™d been aiming to wipe clean from the other manā€™s face; now Steveā€™s frowning, too, as he deflates a little, but hardens a little too, crossing his arms and leaning back where the other manā€™s not even bothered to stop leaningĀ in, despite his apparently displeasure.
ā€œWhat?ā€ Steve challenges, but itā€™s brittle, he knows it. ā€œItā€™s a,ā€ he vacillates, unsure how exactly to describe theā€¦ritual of it. The way itā€™s cast as a, as aā€¦
ā€œIt is a high,ā€ Steveā€™s voice wavers a bit, like finally saying it aloud makes it all the less believable: ā€œhonor.ā€
The other man eyes him silently until Steve feels it in his very skin, before finally he speaks:
ā€œHmm,ā€ he tips his head, considering just a little before he seems less to come to a conclusion, and more to a conclusion on how to best voice the things he wanted to say already, at that:
ā€œWell, I know these woods very well, better than any hailing from the village I suspect youā€™re speaking of,ā€ his gaze flicks Steve top to toes, something warm in it, no, somethingĀ hotĀ in it, that simmers through Steveā€™s veins: ā€œand so I can get you to the caves, at the very least for shelter before moonrise-full,ā€ he glances skyward, seeming to doublecheck his words before he nods decisively and reaches out a hand:
ā€œThink you can trust someone you only just stumbled upon in the forest to steer you straight?ā€
And Steve doesnā€™t know for sure what heā€™d have done, what his answer and actions may have been if death-by-some-draconic-means werenā€™t imminent. But it is, and so he takes the hand offered, and grasps more than shakes, holds more than strikes accord and lets himself notice andĀ relishĀ how smooth and warm it feels against his skin:
ā€œLead the way.ā€
He doesnā€™t know what heā€™d do in lesser circumstances.
But for the grin on the manā€™s face, the way it shines brighter than moonlight, than sunrays even, he suspects: for the way it makes of the man a star on his own somehow?
Steve wants very much to believe heā€™d trust the man anyway, regardless of sense, just for the breadth of that smile.
~~~~~~~~~~
ā€œLooks like the dragonā€™s out for the night.ā€
Steve makes an extra survey of the den nestled a good bit into the cave when his mysterious guide comments on the undeniable silence of their surroundings, the telling echo of their footsteps in the empty space.
ā€œCurses,ā€ Steve huffs, both frustrated and dismayed because: ā€œIā€™ll have angered him, what if he doesnā€™t think Iā€™m enough forā€”ā€œ
ā€œOne,ā€ Steveā€™s beguiling guide ticks the point off with a finger raised on a strangely elegant hand; ā€œyou think dragons to be too irritable.ā€ Steve rolls his eyes to himselfā€”this Man who knowsĀ so muchĀ of the temperaments of dragons, theĀ egoĀ toĀ presumeā€”
ā€œThey can be quite pleasant so long as they have sufficient treasure. And theyā€™re long-lived, so theyā€™re patient,ā€ the man continues on, which: it seems his egoā€™s well-reasoned out at the very least, Steve supposes.
ā€œWhich brings us to point number two,ā€ and of course thereā€™s a number two, a pair of fingers now waving almost accusingly to the side of Steveā€™s face:
ā€œYouā€™reĀ more thanĀ enoughĀ to be worth waiting for.ā€
Steve blushes furiously and thanks the sparse cracks of nearly enchantedā€”quiteĀ possiblyĀ enchanted, actuallyā€”light for very little chance to be seen for it.
His companion grins with a glimmer of that sparse glow catching his eyes, glittering in it like enchantment themselves, and Steve thinks both that yes, heā€™s likely been seen and caught so that likewise yes, he needs to move out of the shaft of light that betrays him and with haste, because to think such a thing about this strange and beguiling manā€”beguiling, good godsā€”says far to much about what Steve feels about him, and far too soon, even by his standards.
Which are lightning quick already on a day in which he knows restraint.
ā€œSparse for a horde,ā€ Steve surprises himself for how steady his voice is, given how obvious his bid to change the subject lands, not matter his tone.
His companion is gracious enough to allow the shift without comment:
ā€œYou think mortal eyes can see such things without a dragonā€™s explicit permission?ā€
But not gracious enough to abandon thatĀ ego.
ā€œHow doĀ youĀ know so much of dragons?ā€ Steve finally just asks; subtletyā€™s never been his strongest characteristic, and in honesty, itā€™s past time to have asked it.
The other man smirks, scoffs a little.
ā€œThis may beĀ yourĀ villageā€™s first encounter with them,ā€ and itā€™s said not quite in censure, and not unkindly, but Steve is cowed a bit nonethelessā€”the man had never named but has more than once referenced where he thinks Steveā€™s from, and Steve suspects if his vestments and the crests embroidered to them werenā€™t enough, his lack of knowledge would beā€”his people have been blessed in many ways, and live privileged lives on the whole, most especially his family, in comparison to their neighbors.
ā€œBut here is the only perch for the span of tens of villages,ā€ the man points out; ā€œandĀ theyā€™veĀ not been left untouched for so long.ā€
Right. Of course.
ā€œYouā€™re from a neighboring town?ā€
ā€œOne word for it,ā€ the man shrugs, in such a way now that it shivers through his unruly curls; ā€œand youā€™re from Hawkins, I gather.ā€
Right. Unsubtle to the bone it seems, indeed.
ā€œFor the whole of my life I can say I know only one thing about your home,ā€ the man takes Steve grimace as the confirmation that it is; ā€œand itā€™s how they share notoriously littleĀ toĀ know.ā€
Steve chews at his lip, knows the failings his familyā€™s rule has had for the people without and without their borders. Has tried to find ways to help without power of his own in the order of things.
ā€œI always wished to see other lands, even the nearest of them,ā€ Steve finally lands on something to say; ā€œI tried to convince my parents, butā€”ā€
ā€œParents?ā€
It might be the first time his newā€¦friend? Looks properly halted.
ā€œSon and heir,ā€ Steve points to himself with a weary sort of smirk, the whole thing laughable, really; ā€œthe tribute has to be valuable, right? I thought upon seeing so little here, I could offer from our own troves before the end, as appeasement but,ā€ Steve sighs, suddenly drained, only now realizing, now that the option eludes him, just how heavily he was counting on the option of at leastĀ tryingĀ to bargain with the dragon, appealing to its intellect and far more, its love of treasure.
ā€œBut if itā€™s as you say, I may have much less by way of offering at all.ā€
Thereā€™s an instant sort of chill that fills him as he starts to acclimate to the reality that heā€™s going to die, and soon, and there truly is not hope for an escape. Heā€”
ā€œLet me assure you,ā€ the manā€™s hand startles Steve, battles and swiftly overcomes the chill in him as it wraps tight around Steveā€™s wrist, his voice following Steveā€™s own almost without break, a cutting finality to it, definitiveness in his tone and his eyes alike once Steve meets themā€”and once Steve meets them, the not-quite-stranger doesnā€™t let him look away.
Magnetic.
ā€œBased on what I have seen?ā€ and the words could be casual, but the low rumble theyā€™re spoken with is anything but:
ā€œYou could walk here wholly empty handed, and no dragon worth their flame would turn you away as unworthy.ā€
Steve feels less his cheeks, and more his whole body, inside and out, flush bright and thereā€™s no light to hide from, save from the one shimmering in the gaze locked into his own.
And Steve, for all his postures of pride: this time?
He has noĀ desireĀ to hide the way he flushes, never mind the way heĀ shivers, if it means trying to evade thoseĀ eyes.
~~~~~~~~~~
Incidentally, itā€™s too late for the other man to turn back, though he clearly knows these woods so well. Steve insists that he stays.
Not for any ulterior motives, of course.
The man argues, if almost for show alone, but agrees on one condition: they neither of them have bedding. The other man apparently hadnā€™t planned to be out past the hour for rest, is only stuck because of Steve and Steveā€”
Steve has a pack but heā€¦he presumed heā€™d either be dead and his offerings deemed fitting, or the dragon would keep him as the dragon desired, bedding or clothing or neither, until the dragon was satisfied.
And then, again: heā€™d be dead.
It is unthinkable to take the meager blankets Steve can see in a corner, not without permission; not from aĀ dragon, so. The other man is asking toā€¦lie close.
And Steve is not opposed. The man is almostā€¦surreally exquisite, especially in the passing moonlight. His angles areā€¦particular. Alluring. They steal the breath in Steveā€™s chest a little, long before theyā€™ve earned the right.
ā€œIt feels more than overdue now to ask your name,ā€ Steve whispers, not that itā€™s necessary. Not that thereā€™s anyone to hear.
ā€œEddie,ā€ the man whispers back, his voice so warm and almost enveloping, like an embrace in itself and Steve feels less absurd for speaking so soft, so privately.
NearlyĀ intimate.
GoodĀ gods, now SteveĀ isĀ being absurd and should feel it to his bones. He deserves to suffer the uncomfortable twist of embarrassment it leaves in stomach, at this rate.
ā€œSteve,ā€ he manages to say low enough that his mortification isnā€™t audible.
But then:
ā€œThat is aĀ beautifulĀ name, sweetheart,ā€ Eddie breathes, and heā€™s shimmied closer somehow while Steve was stuck in his shame-spiral for being the too quick to show his cards, even to himself in his own head.
ā€œNothing special to it,ā€ Steve mutters, demurs a little but in a coquettish way, doesnā€™t even mean to. Justā€¦thereā€™s an energy between them now, and Steveā€™s primed to match it.
ā€œIsnā€™t there?ā€ Eddie asks, heated and near in a way that dances up Steveā€™s spine:
ā€œI would hesitate to be so sure.ā€
Again, Steve doesnā€™tĀ meanĀ to, or plan to, when he rolls further into Eddieā€™s frame where theyā€™re laid together, already so close, now nearly in each otherā€™s arms.
He doesnā€™t mean to, and yet: his arms are gathered close against the chest of a man he doesnā€™t know, and yet feelsā€¦more comfortable next to than any body heā€™s pressed against in his life.
And there have been fair few.
ā€œYouā€™re so warm,ā€ Steve mouths more than anything, lips dragging on this half-strangerā€™s neck by accident, because it could be nothing save an accident that Steve now knows that Eddieā€™s skin tastes of salt and smoked cinnamon sticks and the air in the forrest at night: elemental, somehow. Necessary.
Only by accident would Steve torture himself this way.
ā€œIā€™d keep you warm always,ā€ Steve hears as the world blurs soft to black, the phantom sensation of arms curling around him, welcoming him to sleepā€”the whole of it odd in every way because he hadnā€™t spoken loud enough to be heard, really, even so close, and to read his words from the drag of his mouth to flesh was of course impossible.
ā€œTo the end of the Age and beyond if I could,ā€ the words drift blissful, wistful like an invitation into sleep: ā€œif youā€™d let me.ā€
So of course: it must have been a dream.
~~~~~~~~~~
Daybreak finds them entangled.
Steveā€¦freezes, as if he didnā€™t feel snug and perfectly warm wrapped up so close. He weighs the merits of bolting, and making apologies after the fact, against trying to extricate himself without rousing his companion, versusā€”
ā€œGood morning, sweetness.ā€
Steve stills somehow further, feels his face heatĀ yet againĀ and yet this time, despite the dark of the cave, heā€™sā€¦crushed ever so pleasantly against the bare smooth planes of a chest thatā€¦shouldnā€™t be bare, should it, because they moved together close forĀ heatĀ against theĀ chillĀ and for certain it is past dawn but it is still nowhere near warm enough forā€”
ā€œDid you sleep well?ā€
Steve groans, which only leads him to burrowing further into the unavoidably welcoming give of Eddieā€™s chest, lean butĀ strong, Steve can tell, much like he can feel as much as hear the rumbling laughter that cascades through that chest: so much like an invitation to sink into the chest and the sound alike, to never be singular, to never be cold.
What a ridiculous notion.
But then lips are unmistakably pressed to the crown of Steveā€™s head, not even in passing, no: they linger. Theyā€¦feelĀ right.
Steve wants for them to beĀ rightĀ until the day he diesā€”
Well. That might actually be possible, or close enough for what heā€™s earned in this world.
The irony.
Eddie takes to the huntā€”the reason he was in the woods to find Steve in the first place, apparently; he says his bow and knives are just down toward the ravine, which Steve vaguely knows but not well, too close to the borders of other lands.
ā€œDonā€™t fret, though,ā€ and this time the lips press to the low half of Steveā€™s cheek, affection that does not press its advantage but makes it desires clear, too close to Steve mouth to be anything less.
Steveā€¦is unsure what to make of that. Because he cannot make what he thinks of first; he cannot possibly follow that thread in his own mindā€”increasingly in his own chest.
ā€œIā€™ll find you, if you get lost again.ā€
As if Steve will wander, would risk missing his dragon captorā€™s return, to even consider one misstep to unintentionally enrage his looming executioner, to even consider missing a single instant in the meantime withĀ this manā€”
But the glinting smileĀ that manĀ shoots Steveā€™s way as he strides out the yawning opening in the rocks, its glinting like stardust and warm radiance that fills Steveā€™s veins then spills over and seeps into his marrow:
Steve doesnā€™t think that man actually meant getting lost that way.
And what on earth is he supposed to make ofĀ that, save everything that he canā€™t have; that cannotĀ be?
Though, in fairness: it would be on brand. Steven Harrington of Hawkins.
Falling hard and fast and more real than ever before, mere hours before he leaves the mortal coil.
~~~~~~~~~~
ā€œYouā€™re anxious.ā€
Steve knows now that his dreams were realty, last night. The words, the arms.
He is awake in them now after they eat what Eddieā€™s secured for them, cooked over a fire perfectly pitched outside the mouth of the cave, its warmth not insufficient as theyā€™d eaten in pleasant company together.
Not insufficient at all. Just notĀ thisĀ chest;Ā theseĀ arms.
And now they are both of them bare to the waist, knowingly and happily curled into one another, and Steve feels on one hand boneless, weightless, inexplicablyĀ heldĀ andĀ keptĀ beyond the physical in the embrace of a man he barely knows and yet feelsā€¦close to. Something-he-cannot-bring-himself-to-say-at-first sight, like in the fairy stories.
But that manā€™s palm is splayed across Steveā€™s chest; can feel the birdsā€™ wings of his heartbeat at first stroke.
For the first time in Steveā€™s life, it doesnā€™t feel like a weakness heā€™s caught out on; with Eddie nuzzling at his hair, Steve doesnā€™t hesitate to speak his fear with a heavy sigh:
ā€œYou said youā€™ve dealt with dragons.ā€
ā€œTime to time,ā€ Eddie hums, presses his lips to Steveā€™s scalp like reassurance.
ā€œHow will it happen?ā€ Steve whispers shakily, but for the first time in his entire life, he shakesĀ intoĀ someone who seems to care, against all reason; who holds tighter to him for needing rather than casting him away.
ā€œI mean, I know,ā€ Steve licks his lips; ā€œI know what willĀ happen, just,ā€ and he canā€™t quite finish, chokes around his words. Eddie moves closer against him, under the weight of Steveā€™s frame, maneuvers them so that he can tilt his head just so to kiss down Steveā€™s jaw while still holding him close; ever closer.
ā€œWell,ā€ Eddie pecks against the peak of Steveā€™s cheekbone before moving down, all the while massaging circles against Steveā€™s chest; ā€œa town sends their most valued,ā€ and he sucks a little the, against Steveā€™s jawline; ā€œbut some towns have less to pick from,ā€ and then he finds Steveā€™s pulse point and suckles there with real feeling until Steve may be terrified, but heā€™s simultaneously soft clay in a beautiful manā€™s hands, under a beautiful manā€™s mouth.
ā€œA dragon is not a mindless beast,ā€ Eddie adds after Steve can feel heā€™s been well and thoroughly bruised.
ā€œIā€™ve always heard theyā€™re very smart,ā€ Steve breathes, maybe nods, mostly just savors Eddieā€™s heat, his nearness, how he touches Steve likeĀ heĀ has value; like Steve has value toĀ him, and what a thing to feel, to want, to possiblyĀ hold, even for these stolen moments; ā€œitā€™s how they tell if you send them less than theyā€™re owed.ā€
Because of course Steve knows the stories. Steve can remember countless tales of horrific ends for villages, towns, whole kingdoms even, razed for being so haughty and foolish as to try and swindle a dragonā€”perhaps embellished to encourage childrenā€™s behavior, but. The bones of the narrative fit the oft-smoldering evidence often enough, so far as Steve could tell in the proper histories.
ā€œNot owed,ā€ Eddie corrects, firmly but somehow also gently, his capacity for dynamism an oddly comforting thing, so human and forgiving of overstepping boundaries so freely as to maybe not even draw any to begin with, at complete odds with Steveā€™s entire life; ā€œnot how most people think, at least.ā€
Eddie flip Steve over gently, firmly again, settles them chest to chest, one atop the other as Steve looks down at him, feels his heartbeat crash against Eddieā€™s own closer than ought to be felt, like their ribs clear way for the two of them, for whatever they could be, and Steve wonders if part of why his heart is racing so is for the loss of the possibility that rushes through him, that swells between them in every momentā€”something that grows in every moment, every look and touch and blink, that expands effervescent and filled with soĀ muchĀ without any knowledge that there is not space to hold it, that what time they have is borrowed at best.
Steve thinks maybe; his sick heart for it could be railing where the rest of him is fixated on etching every one of those looks and blinks and touches into his bones so that they may be among the last parts of him to leave the earth.
ā€œA dragon, above most things, has a particularly keen sense to know precisely where value lies,ā€ Eddieā€™s explaining again, his hand now still, pressed against Steveā€™s heart akin to a shield, or a safe-hold. ā€œAnd how.ā€
Steve ponder that for a moment before he meets Eddieā€™s eyes, having felt them heavy and molten upon him with new fire before taking them in for all that they are: brilliance.
Blinding.
Steve leans as Eddie arches and they meet in between to press their lips together after what feels an eternity and an instant of living in a world where they didnā€™t taste one another in such a way as to drink their fill. As to breathe each otherā€™s breath.
So as to tease and cherish deep, to tongue against the very heart.
And there Steve makes certain, before he loses himself wholly to sensation:
Looks. Touches. Blinks. Carved into his bones, but first.
First heā€™ll gild them in every single kiss.
~~~~~~~~~~
They transition fully into lovers in a seamless fashion, insatiable like Steveā€™s never known it. Eddie never keeps him wanting, gives selflessly and Steve does all that he can to reciprocate and more, because Eddie is everything, of that Steve is certain, and therefore he deserves no less.
He also seems dead set on making sure that they are posed as equals. That to lavish one another with affections as much as to ravish each other endless never unbalances one way or the other. Wherever Steve seeks to give more where Eddie should have it, Eddie turns the tables to takes Steve apart so that all he knows is tingly euphoria. A happiness heā€™s never felt, didnā€™t quite believe could exist.
Yet here he is. Here they are.
Steve smiles more than he remembers, playful and ravenous and overflowing with feeling, and Eddie doesnā€™t rise to meet his enthusiasm: heā€™s already there, matched with him and ecstatic to entwine. Itā€™s a heady thing, addictive and overwhelming and a gift, Steve thinks: maybe the universe forgive him for doing less to stop harm and deprivation in his home, for wishing to help more and acting where he could even if it wasnā€™t enough. Maybe he gets this sliver of heaven out of pity for whatā€™s to come.
He will take it with open arms. He will welcome it. He will make himself of it until there is not Steve that exists outside of it.
But it cannot overcome the inevitable, in its impending, suffocating weight.
Come the sixth day like thisā€”the sixthĀ nightĀ like thisā€”something in Steve gives way. Existing on the precipice of life and death with no telling of when the hammer with strike finally takes too much of a toll, and his nerves betray him.
ā€œLikely they are hunting, it can take many days, weeks even Iā€™m told,ā€ Eddie tries to console him as he shakes, canā€™t even sob, like his body canā€™t coordinate even that much to work properly, too distraught are pieces of him heā€™s flooded with pleasure but finally could no longer be denied, fed on his wonderment and picked until it cracked enough for his fears to bleed through. ā€œBut if you are still so anxious we could, or, I could try and look for some clue as to where itā€™s gone?ā€ Eddie offers carefully, holding Steve together as he does his utmost to shudder out of his skin. ā€œAnd you can stay here, in case it returns?ā€
The only thing Steve can do then is shake his head until it hurts, until heā€™s dizzy with his own vehement denial: itā€™s the first things thatā€™s properly matched, body to feeling.
Itā€™s fitting that way.
ā€œI,ā€ Steve starts, just voice barely a scratch as Eddie reaches, tips his chin upward and cups his face so delicate:
ā€œWhat, angel?ā€
Steve blinks at himā€”takes him in, presses down to pain as he draws it, brands it onto his skeleton to be remembered, all the tangled butĀ powerfulfeelings he has for this man so fast, soĀ strong.
For this man, for all heĀ feels: Steve makes himself speak whatā€™s heavy and true andĀ realĀ in his galloping heart:
ā€œI have no intention of reneging my duties,ā€ he rasps, holds on to Eddie as tightly as he can, as if maybe their bones could brand oneā€™s another and fuse into one.
ā€œBut until no choice is left, I,ā€ Steve chokes, and his eyes burn as he holds Eddieā€™s gaze, lifts Eddieā€™s hand away from his cheek and over to his lips to press all his hopeless hopes against Eddieā€™s palms:
ā€œI donā€™t want to be out of your sight, nor you taken from mine.ā€
The tear that escapes him then is caught by Eddieā€™s thumb. Adoringly.
Each that follows is lost between Eddieā€™s lips; might belong to them both.
Steve thinks he can believe that muchā€”in these fleeting, sacred momentā€”to be true.
~~~~~~~~~~
The dragon has still not appeared, and Steve has since collected himself for the most part, with Eddie ready to brace him steady when he starts to falter. Itā€™s a wild novel thing, to be supported this way. To be cared for.
With such care, comes perception. For better or worse.
ā€œWhat troubles you, beloved?ā€ Eddie eyes him knowingly, a level of sight straight through to Steveā€™s soul that should not be fathomable in a lifetime, let alone a weekā€™s time.
ā€œMy own mind,ā€ Steve admits freely, unwilling any longerā€”if he ever had beenā€”to hide from Eddie, unsure what the point would be even if he desired to: ā€œit is cowardly, and selfish.ā€
ā€œI doubt that,ā€ Eddie catches Steveā€™s jawbone with a single finger, playful, endearing: but clear in its pointed redirection of Steveā€™s gaze, and his disparagement of his own thoughts:
ā€œI would doubt that quite strongly, in fact.ā€
Steve lets Eddie touch prompt him to a kiss, as if he needs coaxing before he leans into the crook of Eddieā€™s neck and breathes him in: the best savours of the ground and sky.
ā€œI would not run from my fate, here,ā€ Steve says, not wholly to remind himself but, not without that purpose at hand; ā€œsave that it feels like my fate isā€¦ā€
And he slides his hand to Eddieā€™s chest, hopes it speaks for him where he doesnā€™t know words for the depth and breadth andĀ weightĀ of these feelings; Eddieā€™s hand covers his, automatic, and he knows heā€™s understood.
ā€œI wish not to be parted from you, now that Iā€™ve found you,ā€ Steve whispers, swallows hard, then looks Eddie in the eyes, speaks straight to the soul in them so that he is not misread, or underestimated in the weight of his own words, now:
ā€œI think that I may be in love with you.ā€
And heā€™s never been before. Heā€™s believed it may be love, but: no. No, it was never love before.
If ever it was love: it isĀ this.
ā€œOh my precious one,ā€ Eddie pets his hair and kisses after his own touch: ā€œI donā€™t think that Iā€™m in love with you,ā€ and Steve stiffens only for the instant Eddie leaves between those words, and dipping down to Steveā€™s ear to exhale withĀ feeling:
ā€œIĀ knowĀ it.ā€
How it is possible to die brokenhearted and happier than heā€™d ever dreamed, Steve doesnā€™t know.
But heā€™s about to serve as object lesson, in just days.
Maybe less.
~~~~~~~~~~
ā€œKnow that when,ā€ Steve is speaking to the cracks in the rock that peek at the night sky as he speaks, Eddie on his chest like a blanket, save so much better; ā€œwhen it happens,mwhen it devours me whole or takes me in pieces,ā€ and his voice catches, but he remains resolute; ā€œit will know you in every inch of me,ā€ and he cups Eddie closer to him then, holds him against the thunderous roar of his pulse.
ā€œMy heart is full of you, and it will taste only of devotion,ā€ Steve near-hisses for the fervor in him. ā€œYouā€™ll be the last bit of me known to the world.ā€
ā€œNever.ā€
The growl that comes from the body that curls around him, protective,Ā possessive, beloved in a way and to a magnitude Steve didnā€™t know he could feel before now: theĀ venomĀ in it makes it clear that itā€™s not a refutation of Steveā€™s declaration for the sentiment.
Itā€™s a refutation to the cosmos itself.
ā€œI would never allow it,ā€ Eddie bites out, pressing closer to Steve, to hisĀ heart: ā€œyou will not be forfeit to some dragon,ā€ and oh, but this man Steve loves is wild with his passion, foolhardy and yet all the more lovable for it.
ā€œI would fight with all that I am to protect you,ā€ he vows, presses his lips to Steveā€™s chest and speaks there like he means well and truly to means to tell Steve to the heart of him this sole, unshakeable truth: ā€œand should somehow I lose the battle, it could only be because there is nothing of me left to fight.ā€
And for the first time, in all his life: Steve clings to something,Ā someone, heā€™d happily rip his beating heart out to protect.
And thatā€”he realizes in a single world-rewriting instantā€”he fears the loss of more than any other thing.
Any. Other. Thing.
~~~~~~~~~~
They donā€™t speak of it, or of a choice to be made when the time does come: Steve thinks maybe thatā€™s the only way they manage at all, really, is to simply hold it between them in those last days. Known. Seen.
Loved.
AndĀ feared.
But always together. Always soĀ close, in every way.
Until the stasis breaks.
ā€œSteve,ā€ Eddie breathes into the afternoon, innocuous. Steveā€™s stopped counting how many days theyā€™ve stolen together.
ā€œI must leave, my darling.ā€
Steve narrows his eyes, trying to understand him. He watches as Eddie hurries to gather both of Steveā€™s hands, to bring them to his lips.
ā€œOnly for a short while,ā€ he murmurs between Steveā€™s fingers, kisses at his knuckles with apology, and with heartsickness thick between his breaths: ā€œbarely a moment,ā€ and his breath is short, thin, like the thought of leaving hurts.
And Steveā€¦Steve has been in love for the first time, with the perfect match to his very soul. Unthinkable, but undeniable.
But it hasnā€™t made himĀ whollyĀ blind.
He means to press, toĀ seeĀ if the slight little inklings heā€™s had every so often hold any weight, point in any direction of significance, means to ask just a simple thing, but then Eddieā€™s expression breaks open, a miasma of emotion spilling forth as his breath catches, monumental on a sob and he takes the hands at his lips and instead uses them to bury his face.
ā€œOh, my Steve,ā€ he breathes, and all Steve can really see are the heaving lifts of his shoulders, and the way his curls fall a little like a monsoon.
ā€œI am sorry,ā€ Eddie whispers into Steve hands and Steve feels dampness there, and oh. No.
Not from Eddie. Not for whatever this is. Steve can think of nothing, save Eddie leaving for good before the end, that he should be moved to apologize for. And even that Steve would forgive.
Because Steve loves him.
ā€œWhy?ā€ Steve asks, incredulous, his own half-formed ideas to seek to know gone at the sight of his beloved in distress. ā€œWhat reason on earth do you have to be sorry, you said,ā€ and Steve halts, wonders if thatā€™s the catch, and tries not to falter without reason, tries to stand tall: ā€œonly a moment,ā€ and that is what Eddie said, he said only aā€”
ā€œI lied.ā€
Steve does to falter.
He starts to fracture and fall entirely. Because what, what all was a lie, was itĀ allĀ a lie, heā€”
He doesnā€™t know if he can breathe. Heā€™s never lost his heart before. But he imagines that if death is still waiting for him, and heā€™ll face it alone: itā€™s what heā€™d planed for. What heā€™s prepared for from the start.
He knows how to be alone. It has to hurt less, than losing his heart now.
It will have to hurt less, at theĀ veryĀ end, if it comes to him without a heart in his breast.
ā€œIt was worth every second, no matter that it must end, in joy or heartbreak,ā€ Steve finds himself saying, and if his tone rings hollow, itā€™s only because his heartā€™s already leaking from him, already half-gone: he means it with every bit he has left, nonetheless.
ā€œYou are the moon, pulling me close,ā€ he turns his hands so his palms line to Eddieā€™s; ā€œthe sun wrapping me in warmth,ā€ and he folds their fingers together, clutches tight one last time, greedy as anything:
ā€œYou have been the greatest gift at the end of all Iā€™ll ever know.ā€ And that is the truth, that is the last words and final rites written on his bones. ā€œBecause of you, I will die fulfilled in ways I didnā€™t realize I was lacking.ā€
And then thereā€™s just one thing, because Steve, Steve needs to say this part, he doesnā€™t think heā€™s said this part yet:
ā€œThank you.ā€
He means it.
But Eddie only holds onto him harder, painfully but itā€™s perfection; only shakes his head over and over before he finally rasps, barely audible:
ā€œYou misunderstand.ā€
Steve leans closer to hear him, to feel him, to know his warmth in the lat moments that might be left. He wants to understand. He doesnā€™t want the end to be anything but clear.
Even if it hurts.
ā€œI haveĀ lied,ā€ Eddie swallows hard; ā€œbut you misunderstand for what.ā€
Steveā€¦still misunderstands.
ā€œYouĀ have been my moon,ā€ Eddie nearly moans, his head nuzzling into Steveā€™s hands, his hold, with nothing short of desperation:ā€œyouĀ have been the sun since the first revelation when I was taught as barely a hatchling that my kind were born of suns, made from fire.ā€
And that. Itā€™s been those small things:Ā someĀ dragon. NotĀ owed. No dragon would find himĀ unworthy.
TheĀ ego to presume.
This is no longer a small thing, spoken now.
ā€œYou stole my heart straight away, and I gave it freely but,ā€ Eddie hiccups the slightest bit; ā€œI only grow in relishing that of all the souls in all the worlds, yours has welcomed mine,ā€ and heĀ sniffles, by every god and power in all theĀ worldsā€”
ā€œYou are aĀ privilege.ā€
And oh,Ā oh, but byĀ every god and power: SteveĀ lovesĀ him.
ā€œAnd you have a dragonā€™s heart now, no matter how you choose to use it, to keep or reject it,ā€ foolish words Eddie speaks so messy, so rushed and ragged, so ripped out from him visceral and slick with feeling: ā€œand your end will be my end,ā€ and his lips brush Steveā€™s hands, kiss the pulse on both his wrists:
ā€œAnd either that will be unmeasurable ages hence,ā€ and his breath catches, and Steve only wants for him to look up, just look up, because heā€™s said it without saying now, hasnā€™t he, muddled and frantic and so human, to say heā€™s anything but as he admits to the thing he thinks he needs to offer apology for.
ā€œOr,ā€ he trips over the next words, but theyā€™re soĀ soddenĀ withĀ candor, the blood in his veins:
ā€œOr my heart may turn ash if you leave but,ā€ and he brings the heels of both Steveā€™s hands to his mouth and kisses, speaks into them worshipfully:
ā€œYour life will go on as a mortalā€™s, once Iā€™veā€”ā€
ā€œYouā€™ve given your heart?ā€
Because Steve had suspicions. Of why Eddie said certain things, certain ways. How warm he was. How strong and even andā€¦ancientĀ the beating of his heart resonated beneath Steveā€™s ear, his touch, like it radiated heat as a sun in itself.
ā€œOf course,ā€ Eddieā€™s head snaps up, like heā€™s offended at any suggestion to the contrary; ā€œalmost immediately.ā€
He blinks; he forgets himself. Thereā€™s a lid to his starburst eyes that closes unlike Steveā€™s, the opposite direction, almost invisible.
But Steveā€™s watching. Steve doesnā€™t blink once, cannot miss this.
Cannot pause what he writes into his bones because even if he plans for nothing less than ages unmeasurable, now, he wants this written on the bones that come in the end.
Whenever the end stretches out to.
ā€œAnd if itā€™s ill received,ā€ Steve asks slowly, his brows pinching as he picks through the implications of this part: ā€œyouā€”ā€
ā€œWither, slowly,ā€ Eddie says, far too matter-of-fact for Steveā€™s liking, or willingness to stand: ā€œbut the end comes, yes.ā€
ā€œEddie,ā€ Steve scolds, and Eddie flinches, thinks heā€™s been caught, been known and revealed now and in so being is anything but wanted with all of Steveā€™s being.
There is a tiny part of Steve thatā€™s grateful for his foolishness: it makes Steve feel less alone, to be swept so by a love thisĀ vast.
ā€œYou are the dearest treasure Iā€™ve ever known,ā€ Eddie whispers, but itā€™s a pleading thing, something even Steve can tell doesnā€™t feel as if it had a hope to grasp; ā€œif you let me keep you I would hold you closer than all things. To give a dragonā€™s heart means to place whatever holds it closer than the heart itself ever learned to rest on its own,ā€ and Eddie gathers Steveā€™s hands again to his chest, stacks them, presses so very hard.
The life in him is a sobering thing. The idea that Steve holds this power somehow in his hands, literally and otherwise, isā€¦staggering.
No less thenĀ amazing.
ā€œYou are my single desire, but more,ā€ Eddie breathes; ā€œyou are my single care, my sole concern,ā€ ā€œmyĀ only.ā€
ā€œWhy do you leave, then?ā€
And Eddie stills. Pulls back only so much as to weigh what he sees in Steveā€™s face, Steveā€™s eyesā€”what Steve sees in his is clear: Eddie didnā€™t think heā€™d get to this part. He thought Steve would balk at learning his lover was something more than mere human.
Specifics aside, Steve could have told anyone that from the night that they met.
And so Eddie, bowled over by the shock of the fact that Steve still holds to him, does not waver, seems to speak unvarnished when he answers:
ā€œThe things you have shared,ā€ and Steve knows without expansion what Eddie means: tales of home, of his family, of hisĀ parents, of how he came to be here, pledged as sacrifice for the good of his town, whispered in the dark as they watched the stars move slow; ā€œI can bear it no longer, my darling.ā€
And Eddie straightens further then, and Steve sees what he dismissed as the play of the light: the glow in Eddieā€™s eyes unmistakable as something other, something fromĀ within.
ā€œI demand the most valued,ā€ Eddieā€™s words come out in a hiss, shape even as he hesitates, leaves every moment for Steve to pull away should his touch be unwanted as he reaches to brush Steveā€™s hair from his face.
ā€œYou are that and more to me and yet,ā€ and he shakes his head, and itā€™s so strange still to be marveled at this way: unbridled and unashamed.
ā€œYou said it yourself, valuable,ā€ Eddie nearly spits the word, like a poison he seeks to eke out; ā€œand yet I believe thatĀ IĀ said something different.ā€
Steve frowns, tries to put together the pieces but then his face is framed in long fingers that span the whole of him, fittingly so, as Eddie looks deed in his eyes and says with force and feeling:
ā€œValued,ā€ he emphasizes with a kiss; ā€œbeloved,ā€ and another, and Steve cannot help but smile into it just the slightest bit, his heart soaring as the other piecesā€”borrowed time and impending ends and forevers in view all at once rearranging into what he thinks might be anĀ alwaysĀ with this man whoā€™s more than a man when he speaks against Steveā€™s mouth:
ā€œPrecious beyond all else and others.ā€
He pulls back, and marvels more, then narrows his eyes in a way Steveā€™s never seen, pupils contracting inward from the sides into slits.
ā€œYou areĀ mine,ā€ Eddie growls; ā€œbut the demands we make are not idle, and they did not value you as you deserved,ā€ Eddie scowls, and Steve sees it now, where heā€™s going, what heā€™s doing:
ā€œAnd they thought it acceptable to send you to me as theirĀ most valued, believing they sent you to your death?ā€ Eddie seethes:
ā€œIt cannot go unpunished.ā€
Steveā€¦sees it. Understands, now.
It does not hurt, the idea of losing people who were family only in name, especially not to the man before him, who is all that family should mean, could mean, will mean.
Always, now.
ā€œThe villagers are innocents, please,ā€ Steve whispers, and Eddie cups his cheek, so lovingly itĀ aches.
ā€œFret not,ā€ he says with that warmth that Steveā€™s melted in from the very start; ā€œI know who deserves my ire.ā€ His expression sours, hardens:
ā€œAnd they will know their hard-earned consequences.ā€
Eddie kisses Steve with a kind of devotion bigger than the sky somehow, and itā€™s only because Steveā€™s reeling to get his footing back that he trails behind Eddie and not at his side as he makes to depart.
ā€œPlease do not follow me, beloved,ā€ he calls over his shoulder, not breaking his pace; ā€œI do not wish you to see-ā€œ
ā€œI will stay,ā€ Steve answers, like the words were waiting on this tongue of this very moment: ā€œif.ā€
Eddie stills; turns.
ā€œIf?ā€
ā€œYou promise to return with all haste,ā€ Steve reaches him quick and is the one who kisses with all that he knows, all that he can imagine, all that he holds inside of himself and shares already with Eddie uninhibited; ā€œI will be cold without you.ā€
And that makes Eddie soften; smile as he promises:
ā€œDone.ā€
ā€œAnd,ā€ Steve adds, pulling away from Eddieā€™s lips to look him straight on as Eddieā€™s brow quirks in question:
ā€œAnd?ā€
ā€œChange for me.ā€
And Eddie, for once, is wholly dumbfounded. Speechless.
Itā€™s quite a feat to behold.
ā€œYou,ā€ he stammers; ā€œyou wish to see,ā€ he shakes his head, disbelieving; ā€œbeloved, it is not, I am,ā€ and oh, oh: Steve did not expect this part: ā€œwe are cast as fearsome creatures for good reason.ā€
He is wary. He is cautious. He thinks himself the monster. He wants to hide this part from Steve.
But Steve will haveĀ nothingĀ hidden between them, least of all this: the whole of who his loveĀ is.
ā€œI do not fear you, I could not,ā€ Steve pledges in truth; ā€œand any creature with your heart, who has capturedĀ myĀ soul,ā€ Steve grabs Eddieā€™s shoulders and draws him in, bows those foreheads into one another:
ā€œYou could never be anything short of exquisite. Breathtakingly so.ā€
Eddies breathing is hitched, stuttering. Steve wants to cry for the way he is surprised. Wants to mourn for whatever hurt him to make him this cautious, this stunned by Steveā€™sĀ love: unconditional.
Undying, now that itā€™s possible to give as such, and in truth.
And Steve waits, watches him, stares patient until Eddie sighs deeply, steps back far and then closes his eyes andā€¦becomes.
Larger, of course. The wings are a feat. The talons are less a surprise from his spindly fingers.
Heā€™s, he isā€¦
ā€œYou are,ā€ Steve reaches, waits until Eddie comes to him, welcomes his touchĀ thisĀ way and to feel him, smooth scale not so unlike the chest bare against him in the nightā€”warmth and safety and all that isĀ right:
ā€œMagnificent. And I would know you,ā€ Steve tells him, seeks his gaze as he speaks from the very core of his being: ā€œeven if I hadnā€™t seen it for myself.ā€
He steps closer, waits for Eddie to be curious enough to bow his head low so Steve can mimic how theyā€™d stood, forehead pressed just moments before.
ā€œThese unfathomable eyes,ā€ he whispers between them, and smiles at how those eyes fall closed in something like relief, like comfort after laying down a heavy burden as Steve reaches for the soft underbelly in lighter scales against the charcoal of the rest of his belovedā€™s form:
ā€œThe might of this heart,ā€ and he presses, and yes, exactly as he knew heā€™d find: thunderous. Could part seas, reshape the globe, stir the stars.
And itā€™sĀ Steveā€™s. So he doesnā€™t hesitate to press his lips above the breathing and breathe out:
ā€œUnmistakable, my darling.ā€
When he pulls back those eyes truly are just the same: they wonder. They marvel.
At Steve. Just Steve.
Itā€™s intoxicating.
ā€œDo what must be done,ā€ Steve nuzzles at the side of Eddieā€™s face, pulls his snout to his shoulder so he can kiss at what he supposes is something of a cheek, and then he pulls back, lets go.
But only their bodies. Nothing more. Never anything more. Not ever again.
ā€œThen come home to me.ā€
Steve could be wrong, or just wishful, but he thinks Eddie glows from within through theĀ wholeĀ of himself, and not just his eyes, as he takes flight and shoots like the star Steve always saw inside him, up into the night.
~~~~~~~~~~
Itā€™s not long. Itā€™s just as Eddie promised.
After everything, Steve hadnā€™t worried at all that it would be anything else.
ā€œIt was painless,ā€ is what Eddie says as he walks back into the cave, a man again; ā€œand it was for the sake of justice overdue,ā€ as if he must explain. Or seek forgiveness.
Steve pulls him in and kisses him until heā€™s breathless as an answer for both concerns.
ā€œWhat now?ā€ he canā€™t help but ask. He is still more in love than he can breathe through. Will live and die exactly that way for time innumerable.
ā€œYou wish to be here, with me?ā€ Eddie asks, almost hesitant; seeking.ā€œYou do not feel indebted, or, or coerced? Or tricked or held by force orā€”ā€
Steve grins at the babbling, the nervous rambles. To think theyā€™re because ofĀ him.
It might just give him an absolutelyĀ unbearableĀ ego of his own if itā€™s to be the norm forevermore.
ā€œLove,ā€ Steve presses a single raised finger to the missile of Eddieā€™s lips, watches as he adorable crosses his eyes to follow its trajectory.
ā€œYou are all that I have imagined and never thought to find.ā€ And it really is as simple and as unthinkable as that, in the end. Or the beginning. ā€œThe only way I would be anywhere but your side is to be torn from it, or sent away.ā€
Eddie growls at the first suggestion, and huffs in pure offense at the suggestion of the second as he reaches and pulls Steve flush to his body: warm, warm,Ā warm.
Steveā€™s heart flutters against him, reminding him that he owns it wholly.
Eddieā€™s drums in protective answer, welcoming as much as seeking to leap into Steveā€™s chest on the same promise, the same pledge as he murmurs into Steveā€™s lips:
ā€œYou still misestimate what it means to be loved by a dragon,ā€ and drags his mouth against Steveā€™s bottom lips, a little wanton even as his words carry the weight of the universe entire:
ā€œThis,ā€ and he clutches Steveā€™s closer still, so as to not be mistaken; ā€œis for as much of eternity as is for us to grasp.ā€
It is not sacrifice at all to kiss the man, to love the dragon, in front of him, now.
And for the rest of time ahead.
Tumblr media
For @a-little-unsteddie, who requested the quote 'Magic' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST
āœØpermanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson @theheadlessphilosopher
divider credit here
šŸ’« ao3 link here
102 notes Ā· View notes
zours025 Ā· 3 days ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Zombie apocalypse face au I've been thinking of...
Thoughts/details on the AU and an alt color vers of the first drawing (luring you into my evil cave) ā¬‡ļøā¬‡ļøā¬‡ļø
Tumblr media
Face as unrelated parties... All normal humans. Caname and fruk (separately) wandering the world after generic zombie outbreak. Theyre some of the last ones left so they rarely meet people and need to depend on the other party heavily. Blahblah its miserable everyone is sad and hurt and tired. Francis had to cut off Arthurs leg to prevent an infection. Arthur has to learn to lean on Francis for a lot of stuff and they learn to get over past grudges and such... šŸ˜‡ Alfred is bitten at some point and hides it from Matthew. Matthew knows, but he's basically lost any will to live and is ready to die whenever Alfred turns because. Well. "I'm only living for him anyways..." type of sentiment... They ignore it and it's never brought up but it's like. I know you know that I know that- Anyways. So those two are trying their hardest to live out their last days in relative happiness. Doing fun stuff. Appreciating the simple things, landscapes, each other's company, etc... That is until they bump into Francis and Arthur in a totally horrible state. And it's like "Well... We can't just let them die can we? We have nothing to lose anyways." So they watch over the two and care for them and once they're all in okay health they decide to stick together and move on. But Arthur and Francis are clearly more determined to live than Mattie and Alfred and they're good fighters. So they wanna keep em around, all while hiding that Alfred is slowly dying and is eventually gonna kill them all. Milking Francis and Arthur's good will... Eventually new relationships form between the four and inevitably weird "betrayal!" and jealousy type feelings show up... Francis is tired of just sleeping with Arthur and when he gets mad he flirts with either of the twins... And the like... Well I haven't thought the whole thing through but these are the important emotional bases to the idea I guess...
I wrote a scenario for many different possibilities of first-to-dies (because i find them all interesting and bcuz twitter oomf asked and i have no restraint. lole)
Alfred dies first: Most obvious scenario (like hes already a bit zombified and clearly hes getting physically weaker) Im imagining a terrible scenario no matter what. Matthew probably finds him first all hunched over and stuff womdering whats wrong before realising that it's finally the end of the line. Francis/Arthur aren't far behind and they blow "Alfreds" head off without hesitation. Obviously causes a rift between the two and Matthew, who broke their trust by hiding this from them. Matthew is inconsolable for a few days, he thought he had more time. Despite the lie I think Francis and Arthur would end up feeling sympathy. They try to keep Matthew up on his feet but frankly I think this would end with him blowing his brains out eventually anyways... šŸ˜Š
Alternatively Mattie has been mentally preparing himself for a very long time and he immediately kills "Alfred" and then himself in quick succession. Francis and Arthur are haunted by the memory of the two for the rest of their trip.
Arthur dies first: Similarly, I think its easy to imagine this. He's missing a leg and mostly needs to be near someone else to survive zombie attacks/ambushes. Would probably accidentally get separated from the group and get overrun... Might use himself as a distraction to allow the other three to get away in a particularly dire situation... In a way he thinks hes just dead weight anyways and he wants to see the other three live knowing that he doesn't have much left to offer them (Francis would disagree). Francis is obviously very upset and he loses sleep over the memory of Arthur, his last "real" link to his normal life before all of this. But I think Francis is stable enough to prioritise the twins he took under his wing. He knows they need someone to keep them together, so he toughs it out. Everything is fine till Alfred turns some many months later. By then, Francis developed a strong attachment to the two and doesn't have any regrets. Would probably struggle against Alfreds strength to allow Matthew to escape or something along those lines...
Francis dies first: I can also see him just getting killed by sheer numbers. I think he grew very fond of the twins pretty fast + had to be Arthurs protection for a long time and so he developed this feeling of "I need to keep them all safe at all costs". I don't think itd be as much of a letting go type thing as Arthur. It's more calculated and would only happen in a worst-case scenario. I think Arthur would be pretty irritable for the next few weeks, a lot of things remind him of Francis. It bothers him since he wants to just forget and move on, but he finds that his feelings are more difficult to control than he initially thought. Yells a lot at Matthew and Alfred and gets into petty fights. Its not pretty, but they have their moments... In the end, it's not like he wants to make them suffer. They're all he has left now. Hes trying his best. Has a lot of days where he just wishes he had been the one to die instead.
Matthew dies first: Honestly I'm imagining a non-zombie related death, like an accident with one of the guns or some unrelated illness or like. Falling onto a branch? Falling from high up in general? Setting off a trap? Lol idk. Something that allows Alfred to hold Matthew during his final moments or at least look into his eyes. I think hes also the most liable to flip out on everyone and just kill the four of them all together idk ā¤ Crazy girl ā¤ It shocks Alfred immensely. He expected to be the first one to die and he's really upset about the whole thing. Outwardly, he cracks jokes and tries to convince the other two that he's fine but he's very much not. Doesn't really know what tk do with himself. Just goes through the motions every day. Francis and Arthur notice the slight change in behaviour but don't really say anything and pretend everything is fine. Playing at being a normal family. Arthur and Francis try spending lots of time with Alfred but nothing really helps. Eventually Alfred turns without ever telling them he was infected and they all die the end. Alternatively he kills the other two and then himself on like a random Tuesday. ā¤
Bonus: Everyone except Alfred dies lol. Alone in the desolate empty landscape. Welp!!! What now!!!
If you saw my first post of this text part no you didn't im editing this and putting it here with the drawing its more organised ā¤ okay ā¤
131 notes Ā· View notes
flowerakatsuka Ā· 1 month ago
Text
Tumblr media
the flowers for the wake were lovely, weren't they?
115 notes Ā· View notes
dizzybizz Ā· 10 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
i haven't introduced tumbly to my drawtectives oc!!! this is my guy nick nack, he runs a shop where he sells antiques and well... knick knacks.. he loves trinkets n bits n bobs n he is oh so short.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
227 notes Ā· View notes
lovelandfrogman Ā· 11 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
i love this guy postcanon
369 notes Ā· View notes
mel-loly Ā· 9 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
-(click for a better quality!)
165 notes Ā· View notes
deeva-arud Ā· 11 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Deeva ƅrud - Club Wear Voice Lines
When Summoned: Lights dimmed, tension building upā€¦ Are you ready to feel our rhythm? Summon Line: Playing music with friends is fun, Iā€™m glad to be here even though Iā€™m starting to feel a bit nervous.
Groooovy!!: Weā€™d be delighted to see you at our next show. Spotting a familiar face among the crowd is always nice. Home: ā€œLetā€™s rock and rollā€, as some would say. Home Idle 1: I joined the Pop Music Club on my second year. Perhaps itā€™s quite a drastic change from my previous club butā€¦ itā€™d be a lie to say Iā€™m not enjoying my time here. Home Idle 2: Most of the time Iā€™m the one suggesting we should practice, but somehow Lilia, Cater and Kalim always distract me with all these unknown snacks and gadgets. Sometimes I have the feeling they do it on purposeā€¦ Home Idle 3: I need to warm my hands, itā€™s hard playing an instrument when theyā€™re cold. Home Idle ā€“ Login: *humming Piece of My World* Ah- sorry, I didnā€™t see you there. Can I help you with something? Home Idle ā€“ Groovy: Iā€™ve been playing violin and other instruments since I was a kid. My family has always had a connection with music and Iā€™ll gladly continue this legacy. Conveying your thoughts and feelings through sounds is quite satisfactory. Home Tap 1: My first concert with them? Since it was the first time Iā€™d be playing in front of many people, I knew Iā€™d have a hard time trying to look at the audience. Cater noticed and told me to look at him so I could feel less overwhelmedā€¦ Letā€™s say I didnā€™t expect him to be so literal. His clones substituted the audience because no one came to see us. Home Tap 2: Hm, my violin? Indeed, itā€™s not the same one I use at Mostro Lounge. An electric violin is more suitable for the clubā€™s activities. Iā€™m surprised you noticed it. That means someoneā€™s been paying too much attention to the musician playing ambience musicā€¦ That was a joke. Home Tap 3: Kalim and I joined the club in the same year so I got to see how much heā€™s improved his drumming technique. Itā€™s impressive. Certainly, Liliaā€™s been an excellent teacher to him. Home Tap 4: I like the idea of having customized masks for our performances. Maybe I should mention it once we have enough funds. Home Tap 5: I recently accepted to do some vocals just for our club sessions. You can come see us, but please refrain from telling everyone else. At the moment, I only feel comfortable singing for a few people. Home Tap ā€“ Groovy: When it comes to a band like this many wouldnā€™t think of a violinist, but that actually gives songs an interesting feeling, donā€™t you think? Duo: [DEEVA]: Ready for a shocking performance, Cater? [CATER]: Ready as ever, Dee-chan!
387 notes Ā· View notes
mayhemspreadingguy Ā· 2 years ago
Text
Tumblr media
aaaaand it's finally done :D. Coffee shop date.
Why use a chair when there's the better option?
778 notes Ā· View notes
motoriks Ā· 1 month ago
Text
Tumblr media
robin is magic or something
27 notes Ā· View notes
galactaknightyaoi Ā· 1 month ago
Note
Did Dedede die?
Yes! He does die at the end of that drawing, from old age.
I imagine the two of them to have wildly different lifespans. As a Star Born, Meta Knight will live a few millions, if not billions of years.
Dedede is a penguin, and I can't give an exact number for his species's life expectancy (because I don't know, oops), but I doubt it could never match the lifespan of a star.
Their time together could last centuries for all I know, but it's not a forever thing. Nevertheless their love prevails, and so does his loyalty to him. That is something that is eternal.
I felt showing their relationship in all these different phases of their lives would work best to represent the prompt. That they will always love each other no matter what, or when. Always loyal to each other, that includes through the inevitability of death.
27 notes Ā· View notes
sysig Ā· 1 month ago
Note
Maybe something with Mousey being jealous of Hunter and Smoker for one reason or another? hehe
Tumblr media
Day 7 - There might be a reason for that
Bonus:
Tumblr media
#My art#Requestober#RespectAWoman#Hunter#Smoker#Mousey#Always love when my bonuses are just as if not more technically complex than the main lol#I mean I say that but it was more just tedious to move things between EPSAI2 and GIMP lol#Chibi heads bopping around and a bust-up are not as intensive! My poor hand haha ā™Ŗ#So this is my first time drawing the ladies digitally huh?? Or at least this trio anyhow haha I'll draw the other two someday#Considering Mousey is my favourite of all of them and her dynamic with Charger was one of my driving loves <3#I also realized while drawing this that she (as a survivor) and Max have the same outfit so that's ā™„#White button down and khakis are fairly standard I know let me live XO I love them!!!#Went with pre-infected here tho ā™Ŗ When Mousey's still focused on Smoker! Hehe yaay#She's so cute <3 Love that wonderful disaster <3 <3 And also the mains as well!!! Lol#They were actually a lot of fun to draw digitally haha ā™Ŗ Hair touching - kind of all over touching lol Hunter's just Like That#I did kinda forget about Hunter's camo pants so I leaned on my SAI textures - but I did the shines on her duct tape myself! Pleased :)#I was thinking at first of Hunter offering Smoker a soda but she pushes for Smoker to be healthy huh!#So I was thinking maybe a weird-flavoured sports drink or sugar-free lemonade or something lol#And the usual ribbing lol Mousey do you know what you're wishing for ā™«#I had a moment while drafting where I was like ''Where was the one of Smoker playing Tetris?? :0''#I 100% completely totally remembered it in full colour - but no that was just my brain filling in the details lol it was a sketched comic!#Whenever I think of RespectAWoman that's just the style I see in my head so my mind's eye took it from there pft#I found it in the end ā™„ Had to make reference to it! As it's one of my favourites :D
8 notes Ā· View notes
vargaslovinghours Ā· 2 years ago
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Todd is baby, so - Baby Todd
#šŸ’Ÿ#Doodles#Art#Edgar#Scriabin#Todd#Shmee#Baby Todd AU#These are scribbly and largely unfinished because I had A Lot of ideas and I needed them out of my head as quickly as possible lol#Normally I'd save these for the sketchdump but a) there's too many lol and b) I'm too excited about them#I just wanted to draw cute stuff that's my explanation lol#This is just my ultimate form of making Todd extra tiny and hold that was my justification and goal all along lol#I love these kinds of domestic AUs and the Vargases already have a kid! Now he's just a bit younger haha#Details details - Todd would be at around 8-9 months here#Able to hold his head up and sit on his own but not quite to walking and talking fully - more than a little human blob but not a child yet#He just shows up in a little basket on Edgar's doorstep lol is that how it works - it'd be so much worse if it was Nny's doorstep#Edgar gets a call in the middle of the night like ''Uh...........so I think there's a baby'' ''What do you mean there's a baby''#How could they have a baby they haven't even gone on a date-#I also thought a neat way to differentiate (because I always draw Todd as a tiny little chibi baby lol) would be Shmee#Since Nny slices him up when Todd's a kid - would he do the same to a baby's bear? Is Shmee even Shmee in there?? Hmm hmm#And more thoughts of ages - is Edgar 8&1/2 years younger? Probably not right?? But that would set Todd's birth year way later!#It's fine just don't think about it too hard lol#Or do I mean I have lol#It's all just for cutes and being a good and Definitely flustered but also Definitely father and dad to a baby ā™„#It is honestly really fun to draw him so so so tiny hehehe ā™Ŗā™«
161 notes Ā· View notes
thatonecrookedsmile Ā· 7 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
["So what can you expect in the coming months?"] ["ā€¦you never know!"] ["Heā€™s always watching me..."] ["-I saw Mister Drew the other dayā€¦was meeting with that Connor fellow, holding some papers."] ["I think they saw me looking thoughā€¦"] ["Just too many secrets being cooked up in the kitchen!"] ["If I didnā€™t know better, Iā€™d say there was magic there."] ["A well calculated understanding between creation-"] ["-big things are coming!"] ["-and creator."] ["Massive things!"] ["That smileā€¦"] ["..you just learn to go with it."] ["Heā€™s always watching me..."] ["You just watchā€¦"] ["Iā€™ve got a good feeling something great is going to happenā€¦ā€]
...
ā€¦How very interesting,suchā€¦ knowledge.
{A message from Wilson Arch}
-----
Yoooo, guess who is having a birthday today. Me,obviously. :D
Oh, and Wilson too, I guess. If you wanna be THAT guy.
Remember when this video came out there were people who heard the voice at the end and thought the voice was either Sammy or the Ink Demon? Man, those were the days. However with all due respect, I'm glad neither case was right in the end lol.
On this day 5 years ago, "Unknown - April 14th" was posted on YouTube, which means it's been 5 damn years since we first heard from Wilson...
man, what a damn BABY MAN, am i right folks
It's interesting to think that even though it's been 5 years, we've only known who Wilson really is for 2 years now (or more appropriately, 1 year and 5 months of those 5 years). Of course, now, after BATDR was released, we know who he is and what his place is in the Bendy universe. But between April 1, 2019 and November 1, 2022, all we knew about him was that heā€¦existed. He was someone - someone bad apparently - who sounded old and who would have some relevance in the plot of Dark Revival. And that's it. We had no name, no appearance, nothing. He was someone, but we didn't know who.
It's no wonder he was only referred to as "Unknown" by fans during these 3 and a half years.
In the end, I would say that this drawing is a mix of 2 things. The first being the result of an idea I've had for a while, which is basically making a drawing in relation to the original video/"unknown" tape, but this time with Wilson, since now we know it was recorded by him. Plus it's been 5 years since the original upload,5 years of Wilson. I think this would be the perfect time to do this.
And second, a strange kind of redux/homage/"final chapter" in this kind of "collection" of drawings I did between 2019 and 2022 all based on the idea of "the unknown weirdo from BATDR saying How Very Interesting Such Knowledge" and so on. All of them having other characters in mind in the role of the Unknown. And now, here I am, redoing this idea again, only with The Man Himself this time. The real Unknown. Now as the Known, so to speak.
Going back to what I said before, you can see this drawing as a kind of farewell to this particular idea that I've kind of repeated over the years, as I've now done it again only with Wilson this time. (Does this mean I'll never draw this concept/line of thought again? I mean, I assume so. But there's no guarantee I can't make something similar again down the line. Who knows what the future holds. We will see what happens in the next 5 years.)
But,yeah. 5 years of Such Knowledgeā„¢.
Have a good April Fools' Day.
(Also, there are still a few hours until the day ends where I live, so for me it's still April 1st, so yeah, this still counts)
#bendy and the ink machine#batim#bendy and the dark revival#batdr#wilson arch#crookedsmileart#I'm going to start headcanon that Wilson's birthday is on April Fools. It fits him šŸ˜Œ#yo perspective SUCKS; who created this;i'm gonna beat them until there's no more.#also;lighting is so. hard;how do you all do it#Does anyone have tips for lighting; it would be a huge help /gen#also also;drawing the audio logs was a BATTLE. It was sooo boring; why do I do this to myself#so many details and I had to do it in 7 of them; and it's because these are the DR models;which have more details;#if I had to make them based on IM models I would probably make them simpler. But I wanted to be accurate :-)))#since we are on this subject (and I'm 99% sure of this)#Did you know that the textures in the audio log models used in the final game#are different to those used in the videos published between Feb and April 2019? and a little less detailed?#I realized this when I was looking for references for the drawing#the audio logs in those videos and the audio logs in the final game are not the same thing (at least in terms of texture)#Next time you play BATDR; think about this lol /hj#in retrospect; I don't think those audio logs published at the time would really be relevant to the game's plot#and I think that in the end their purpose was (besides worldbuilding i guess) just to tease the existence of Wilson#I still think that Joey's audio was supposed to be more of a meta thing since the real JDS was actually growing during that time#in my head; that at least makes sense (referring to the last 2 tags)#anyway;happy birthday Wilson;you old bitch#ok i finally post this;now back to the HOG
10 notes Ā· View notes
bonetrousledbones Ā· 7 months ago
Text
getting a sudden resurgence of art motivation is such a blessing and a curse tbh. bc on one hand im drawing a lot and having a lotta fun doing so but on the other hand i wanted to make Even More secret stuff for atbb that requires drawing so i told myself i would make a few very sketchy things that would have to be quick and don't have to be Insane Awesome Quality since they'll be blurry as hell in the final product anyway and i have like less than a week / a couple days at most to get it all ready in time
so anyways now it's 3am and i just finished the first of what i still want to do after 3 days
Tumblr media
#trousled dumb#WHAT THE HELL IS IT WITH ME AND OVERDOING SHIT THAT'S JUST GONNA BE BLURRED!!!!!!!!!!!!!#there are THERE characters in this fucking thing btw. and a background. whats wrong with me who have i become#i was sooo close to just leaving it with minimal shading & detail and finishing it like So Many Hours Ago I Don't Even Know#but i had that thought. you know the one. the one that says Wait I Can Push This More. and well i fucking pushed it#i think im gonna have to do an art dump when this event is done. because where this is gonna be seen beforehand it's gonna be 400px wide.#its original width is 1694px for the record. can you imagine the compression#motion blur + scanlines filter + several gaussian blurs + ungodly compression.......................why did i . do this#sigh. at least i am extremely proud of it and at least i lost track of time solely because of how much fun i was having#but also fellas i do not think i will be drawing everything i want to be prepared by the time of the reveal lmaooo#head in hands. i have drawn a really really good pair of boots. and also a lesbian. and also fully rendered drinks with ice cubes in them#ice cubes that you cannot see. because they are already so small that they had to be drawn with a 2px brush. and now they are blurred#and also obscured by the glass details in general. but by god do they change color under the liquid and everything#goodnight . i would put a cute little emoji here but there isnt anything that represents a smile akin to baring my teeth like a wild animal
8 notes Ā· View notes
monerelluvia Ā· 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
ā›“ļø c l u t c h e s ā›“ļø
Another symbolic representation of the struggles Iri's been going through, or rather the forces that can't leave her mind at peace. The first one was about lack of control, this one's connected, but focused more on the actual people involved.
A brief explanation for each hand from right to left: - Angus, the mad wizard necromancer who resurrected them and is currently holed up in a castle, like Frankenstein, trying to repeat the process with other corpses. The consequences of their death and resurrection have been constantly haunting them. - (down) Jared, a man from her past who not only was involved if not directly responsible for the events that led to their deaths, poisoned her once, but also charmed her and made her do things against her will, to put it simply. - (up, neck) Sarah, a vampire who Iri met once and tricked to run away from. She hasn't forgotten about the girl and is probably on the hunt for her blood right now. - Unknown creature/general representation of hellish entities who try to invade this realm to get a hold of the dragonheart crystals, aware of her having one. - Eilistraee, a goddess Iri looks up to, but is aware of the risk that the gods might use her and the rest of their group to pursue their own needs. She's afraid she might not see it coming.
The red lines are the strings of fate she disturbs moving through this world and this time.
42 notes Ā· View notes
gamebunny-advance Ā· 2 years ago
Text
Tumblr media
"Kun3h0 Design Timeline"
I made this to look at how Kun3h0 has changed over time and to help figure out what I don't like about her latest version.
What I've come to notice us that she's really been stretched the f*ck out. She is supposed to be on the tall side, but this is just too much. Even though I think the latest version is the best artistically, I probably dislike her proportions the most.
Her features are too uniform, and her details are too busy. There's not a lot of contrast in her shape, so she's missing that "toon" quality that I'm really after. I think the second version is the closest I've gotten to the proportions I really want, but it's still not quite right. She needs to be pushed to further extremes: either make the limbs even thinner and/or the hands and feet even larger.
13 notes Ā· View notes