#i wrote it all in like 2 hours

[stevebabey]

have sum steddie! maybe modern!au, no upside down!au & a meet cute <3 | ao3

Steve sits in the booth, his foot tapping away mindlessly under the table, with half a mind to abandon the table entirely.

In fact, the only reason he hadn’t yet was because of the $20 he was hanging out for at the end. And the bragging rights, of course.

Robin had set him up on this blind date, plied him with all the promises in the world that he would enjoy it — said she’d spent a decent amount of time hunting for the right first gay date for Steve.

She also conceded that if he, for whatever reason, didn’t enjoy it, she would cough up 20 whole bucks for his wasted time. But he had to actually see the date through for the prize to be claimed.

And the bragging rights were so that Robin — with her uppity, healthy, and happy relationship that Steve was only a little bit envious of — could ease onto the breaks when it came to Steve’s love life.

So it was looking a little bleak at the moment, so what? Every stallion or… lion or whatever had their moments, right? Moments where their mane is a little uncouth and food is low and…. Where was he going with this?

The point was, that Robin got into one relationship and suddenly decided she was fit to become a high and mighty matchmaker. Never mind that Steve had reminded her numerous times that he had dated a lot more than she had.

So, for 20 bucks and the right to stick his tongue out at his best friend when she tried to meddle, Steve could stick one night out.

Besides, she was right about one thing. They weren’t in Hawkins anymore — and San Francisco had a hell of a larger dating pool than his hometown.

Still, that didn’t make people anymore for prompt for dates though, apparently. Steve’s foot taps incessantly under the table, his knee bouncing up and down in his nerves. He runs a hand through his hair and checks his watch again.

7 o’clock, Harvey’s Diner, a cute little Italian place that Steve had begun to frequent since they moved to the city, and a date with a dude called Daniel whom Steve had no idea what he looked like.

This was his Friday night plans.

His watch reads 7:12pm and Steve sighs, his fingers beginning to fiddle with the strap of his watch just for something to do. Great. He had gotten all dressed up for this? To be stood up? How was this any better than his usual Friday night plans that Robin claimed were so pathe—

“Hi.”

Someone sits down in the booth across from Steve, landing with a thump loud enough to give him a fright.

Steve’s head whips up from its focus on fiddling with his watch and— woah. Steve blinks once, twice, and feels his jaw unhinge a little, his lips parting an inch as he gazes at the stranger across from him.

Holy shit, this dude was hot.

He’s got curls for days, dark chocolate ringlets all messy and unkept spilling over his shoulders— long and probably perfect for burying your hands into. Steve flushes a little at the unexpected thought.

He has beautiful brown eyes, widened with a smudge of eyeliner and framed with long lashes. Steve thinks he can spy a smattering of freckles across his forehead. His nose is long and his lips are plush and pink and holy shit, this dude was pretty.

“Oh— hi.” Steve manages to remember his manners. Only after he fully checked this dude out, of course.

God, couldn’t Robin have given him a better warning than just ‘he’s probably your type’? Couldn’t she have warned him that this dude was ‘do-a-double-take-on-the-street type hot?’ What the fuck Robin?

The man across from him grins, wicked and alluring all at once, and shucks off his heavy leather jacket. His eyes do a once-over on Steve, taking his time to check him out— which is great because Steve is stuck on all the glorious tattoos that have just been revealed. So much skin shown in his roughly chopped muscle-tee, swirling ink all down his arms. This dude is hot.

Silently, Steve curses Robin and the 20 dollars that is totally slipping away from him. Why did she have to be right all the time?

“Been waiting long?” The man, Daniel, asks as he makes himself comfortable across the table. He pushes his hair back with both hands, using one hand to gather it into a ponytail, holding it up to air out his neck and Steve now realises he is slightly puffed.

He must’ve run part of the way here, to avoid being later than he was. Steve can’t help but be slightly endeared by that fact.

The man grins again, “Promise I was trying to be on time but, you know how the subway is.”

Steve huffs out a laugh, any annoyance at being kept waiting melting away at his date’s sincerity.

“Not too long,” Steve admits, smiling to ease Daniel’s apparent concern. Across the table, Daniel slumps a little and releases his hair, his curls pooling back around his shoulders. Steve watches, entranced.

“Well, that’s good,” Daniel smiles, eyes bright like he really means it, and his hand darts out to steal the drinks menu from the edge of the table. He looks back over to Steve, a furrow in his brows. “You didn’t order anything?”

“I thought I should wait,” Steve says with a shrug. No point paying for food if your date never shows up.

Daniel looks up from the menu through his lashes and smiles, placing his elbow on the table and dropping his chin in the palm of his hand. “Aw, you’re sweet.”

Steve is a little embarrassed by how easily the compliment makes him blush, feeling his cheeks glow lightly. Across the table, Daniel seems to revel in it, drinking in the way Steve’s face filled with colour with a cheeky smile. His eyes flick back down to the menu.

“You know,” Daniel begins, keeping his eyes on the menu, scanning it with a hum. “Chrissy said you were good looking but I think she seriously undersold you.”

He takes his eyes off the menu to trail up Steve’s body, his gaze heavy. Steve feels a delighted zing go up his spine, feels the way he preens at Daniel’s attraction. Steve opens his mouth to respond, more than ready to return the flirt when—

“Can I get you two started with anything?”

The waitress interrupts. She’s poised with her notepad, standing at the edge of the booth. Daniel perks up and nods.

“Can I get a chocolate milkshake please?” He asks with a polite smile. Steve laughs lightly at his selection and Daniel’s gaze cuts from the waitress to Steve.

“What? Not a milkshake man?”

Steve tries to contain his grin, all too endeared by the man before him. He shakes his head and raises his hand in defense. “Nothing against milkshakes just… for dinner?”

Daniel gasps theatrically and his head snaps back to the waitress. “This man has never had the delight of a Harvey’s milkshake with his dinner. Please bring us two chocolate milkshakes!”

Steve watches as the waitress dutifully writes down the order and turns on her heel, heading for the kitchen. He turns back to his date and gapes, taken aback by the forwardness.

“Did you just order for me?”

“Did you just diss milkshakes?”

Steve scoffs, but even then he can’t stop his lips from curling up into a smile. He can’t believe it but he’s genuinely glad he waited this date out. It's not at all like he was expecting. Even Robin's short description of this dude pales in comparison to the real thing. Steve nudges his foot forward into Daniel’s shin lightly.

“I did not diss milkshakes,” Steve argues, his smile widening at how Daniel’s eyes dart to the table before back up at Steve with a grin.

“Uh huh,” Daniel nods, his voice sarcastic and 100% unbelieving of Steve’s insistence. “Just wait, okay? You’ll be changing your tune soon enough. Harvey’s milkshakes are class. I’ve had a thousand of my best ideas in here, sipping on a chocolate milkshake.”

Steve grins and leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. Under the table, he feels Daniel’s boot nudge against his leg gently— and he laughs to himself. This has gotta be the most teenage way of flirting and he’s fucking loving it.

“You know,” Steve begins hesitantly, letting his forearms lean up against the table. “You’re not quite what I expected, Daniel.”

Across the table, Daniel scrunches up his face, his expression one of pure befuddlement. He puts his hands flat on the table and leans forward.

“Wait, you think my name is Daniel?”

Steve splutters for a moment because even though the answer is duh, yes, it’s become increasingly apparent that the man across from him is not who he was expecting. But if he’s not Daniel, who is he?

Suddenly, the door chimes and someone else is entering the diner. It’s a man dressed like Steve — on the preppy side with hair that must’ve taken at least an hour. He scans the booth and spots Steve’s booth, wandering over, his eyes fixed on the man across from Steve.

“Hey, are you Eddie?” He asks confidently, ignoring Steve’s presence on the other side of the booth.

The man — Eddie — freezes as he glances up at the newcomer and then back down to Steve ahead of him. Steve deflates a little inside as he realises abruptly what’s happened— a mix-up of wrong dates that was completely warranted because this dude dresses exactly like Steve. Steve doesn't stare too long to see if he's any hotter.

Instead, he tries to give Eddie the all-clear with his eyes. He smiles polite as he can and gives a little nod to let him know it was alright to abandon him for the date he was supposed to go on. Not to get stuck with Steve.

Eddie clears his throat and smiles, not cheeky like he had with Steve, but stiff and polite. “Ah sorry man, I think you’ve got the wrong guy. My name's Daniel.”

Huh? Steve takes his eyes off the table to steal a glimpse at Eddie (is his name even Eddie?) and something inside him burns hotly when the man glances across at Steve and winks.

The man standing by the booth wavers for a moment, glancing between them in the booth as Steve schools his expression to neutral. After a moment of silence, there's a half-assed apology as the man retreats, heading back out the door he had just come through. The door chimes again on his way out.

Steve straightens up and peers over his shoulder, watching the door slowly swing shut. He turns back to the man across the booth and squints at him. The waitress returns briefly, dropping two large chocolate shakes onto the table, topped with a mountain of cream. She murmurs something about coming back to take their order in a moment.

"Wait, so who are you?" Steve asks, gently sliding his shake closer to him. "Daniel or Eddie?"

His date —well, his new date— has already begun taking a big long sip from his own milkshake, so enamored with it that when he pulls away there's a dot of cream on the end of his nose. He swallows with a satisfied ah and grins across the table at Steve, not noticing the dairy on his face.

"I'm whoever gets me talking with you a little bit longer."

Steve grins, an endeared roll of his eye at the blatant flirting but he can't deny how it makes his chest warm. He grabs one of the napkins and reaches forward, adoring how Eddie goes cross-eyed as he watches Steve smudge away the cream on his nose. He laughs sheepishly, giving his nose a little wipe with his own hand.

"I'm Eddie." He says, finally introducing himself. He doesn't offer his hand, just gives Steve a little nudge under the table and a grin over his milkshake. "And I think you just saved me from a terrible date."

Steve laughs, giving a little shake of his head. He finally goes in for a sip of his own milkshake— and it's just as heavenly as Eddie had promised, glorious chocolate dancing over his taste buds.

Steve groans quietly, eyes bright when he glances at the other man over his glass, entirely amused by how wide-eyed Eddie has become. He releases the straw and sits back, more invested in this date than he has been in... years. Stallion's got its mojo back. Or lion. Whatever.

"I'm Steve," He responds, giving a little nudge back under the table and a grin of his own. "And I think you saved me from being stood up."

[ganondoodle]

(OC Lore and design time!)

(it got longer again ... sorry ... idk how to make things short, i just need to talk, but i guess if you can read the written stuff in the pic thats the barest bare bones of what i wrote here)

i was asked what new lore story stuff i had thought about that made me sad which i mentioned a bit ago, and while that is too hard to explain given all the missing context i thought i could at least talk about lore having to do with it :D

so, (Lord) Eadrya is one of my fav OCs (big blue lad, here a rough sketch in humanoid form) they are both one of if not THE most powerful demon alive and the most battle trained;

at the mid point of the story the demon world gets invaded by the celestials (the angel inspired things i talked about in the previous lore post with Xaror) and Shargon, as the king, should be their first and only frontline, but at this point his life is only being sustained by maschinery after being mortally wounded, he cannot fight (he realizes what is going on, rips himself off the maschinery to get at least his youngest child to safety, barely managing it before dying- the guardian, the demons god, takes over his body to attempt to fight against the celestials but cant keep itself alive long enough since its host is already dead) Eadrya takes the role of the frontline fighter (despite being very full of themselves and aggressive they care about their 'job' of protecting their own, also giving them the chance to show off just how strong they are); the fight was going well for them all things considered, but when the guardian activates it drains the power of all elemental lords (which Eadrya is one of, and since they have the most strength it also takes the most from them), so much so that they lose the fight and suffer deadly wounds (the worst being a spear through the chest made of a material that grows hard, root-like formations when in contact with demonic blood like a fungus but worse, also stopping any self healing processes) after the guardian falls apart it creates a huge shockwave of energy that stuns every living thing within a certain distance and possibly more-

Eadrya (in true demon form, so like a blue whale in size at least) was likely taken through an active gateway to the human world in a large tidal wave also created by the guardians fall; they wash up in the harbor of a small secluded village, the head of which is 'lady 13'; although never having seen a demon before and everyone being afraid (largely thinking its a strange hurt animal, only she suspected otherwise), they still gather all villagers to pull out the celestial spear, which is diffcult and brutal given that its already taken root, but the village lacked both knowledge and means to help any other way- doing so damaged their heart which is how they were able to collect samples of all three demonic blood types ('normal' -red like humans-, energy -essentially purely magic- and heartblood -highly concentrated energy only found within the heart of a demon and the only one to contain genetic material) (this is the start of Eadryas character arc, having to deal with the fact that their world is likely destroyed, them failing what they didnt think they could fail, having lost a battle so badly (even if not really their fault) for the first time and not knowing if literally anyone else has survived .. also being now stuck in the human world, which they dont like)

Lady 13 (placeholder name? stands for experiment 13) is a human that was tricked by demon hunters to enroll into a series of experiments trying to create hybrids of demons and humans, which they hoped would be powerful and easily controllable tools for their endeavours, though the two are inherently not compatible, they tried grafting body parts of demons on humans to make them compatible- all experiments failed except for her, more or less, though she never got to see the hybrid she carried and was then told it had died too, they threw her out believing she wouldnt survive much longer either and all such experiments were cancelled due to the high cost of human life, research material (demons are still rare) and upkeep with no successful results Lady 13 survived though (perhaps even via the pirates picking her up?) and she ended up living in said small village far away, hiding her half demonic body, though most know there soemthing 'wrong' with her (her being this tall when it doesnt fit the rest for one), only few know the full extent; she enjoys the life she has now, perhaps on the more poor side but safer and more loved than ever before; she largely lead the efforts to try and help Eadrya when they ended up in the harbor, though there wasnt that much anyone could do it was still enough- they leave immediately after waking up, but return after really having nowhere to go and struggling to deal with everything that has happened; over time (probably years) they start to open up towards the people there (though not .. very much) enough to get rather close with Lady 13 too- she actually falls madly in love but after Eadrya (extremely aro/ace) rejects all her attempts quite clearly she respects their boundaries

However, after hearing news of potential demon sightings Eadrya decides to leave in hopes of not being the last demon left after all; Lady 13 then decides to reveal her secret to them (though hearing and seeing what lengths hunters would go to for their experiments makes them absolutely seething with rage- she insists on not being out for revenge) and asks if they would be willing to donate a small amount of heartblood; shes always wanted to be a mother but is now incompatible with humans too- through things she picked up back at the experiments facillity, hers and her doctors research she is sure that is all that is needed, she dares to ask since she does not know when, if ever, she will meet another demon, much less one she could actually trust enough for this though Eadrya hesitates (why would she want to go through the same thing again that didnt work and threatened her life, if it does work, do they want to be involved with any of this? what if hunters find out it worked after all?) but after her ensuring that they would have no part in it other than giving up a little blood and would not be considered a parent in any way, nor made responsible for anything that might happen to her, but considering it all in the end they agree to it

only for her to reveal shes had a small bottle of it already, along with multiple samples of the other types, which she collected when Eadrya was bleeding out into the harbor not knowing if they will survive, though not wanting to make use of it without their consent either way (they are actuallly rather touched by this)

alot later the main group returns here and it turns out to have worked (though she is unable to walk/bedridden for a long while bc it did alot of damage to her body, which can heal since its demons parts, but only really slowly bc she does not have a full functioning system and no demonic blood of her own -she uses the other samples for the healing process-) though its a little awkward to explain, especially considering that 13.1 took alot after Eadrya xD (their theory as to why it worked so "well" that time is that even though the sample was already taken, them giving their consent for it still made it less likely to be rejected; demons dont need partners to have offspring, and all can do it, they just have to decide to- so them agreeing to it, even though its long been outside their body, still had an effect on the blood sample)

[sophiethewitch1]

congrats on the milestone sophie! i'm so excited to read what you have to share with us! For your 1k celbration, if it's not too much, I'd like to ask for ABXS for Jason and Dick uwu And if ur feeling particularly sharing I'd also love an L from all of them owo

Strei!!! Thank you for the kind words, here's what you asked for. I even did the L's as well for my dearest most beloved mutual <3

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, gen yandere behaviour, murder, stalking, worshipping/weirdly religious undertones for Dick, um pet play sort of?? Jason would bark if you asked him to is all I'm saying.

A = Affection (Is Their Love All-consuming, Expressed Through Possessive Gestures and Overwhelming Intensity With No Bounds?):

Jason: Spreading my Jason Todd Loyal Dog Agenda here but he’s so unbelievably loyal. Way, way too loyal. It doesn’t matter if he personally agrees with whatever your decisions are, he’s listening like the loyal hound he is. Will push and prod at you, but at the end of the day, he’s devoted. While he’d always prefer to be as close to you as possible, he’s willing to stay away if that’s what you really want. Simple guy, aware of himself, and mostly in control of his more fervent tendencies. He refuses to lose control of you, to take too much, so he doesn’t take any. Just giving, giving, giving. He only hopes you’ll take him.

Dick: Dick is probably one of the most clingy yanderes out there. While others might stalk you, or protect you from afar, that’s not Dick’s methodology. He wants to be with you all the time, and make you happy all the time, and he spends his afternoons daydreaming about sitting between your thighs for hours at a time. All the time, if it was possible. While he’s trying not to overwhelm you, he’ll stay as calm and charming as possible. But eventually, he’s going to have to start confessing his love to you because he feels like he’ll explode with it. Along with acts of service, physical affection, and verbal affection, he also really likes buying you things. He’s an all-rounder. Still, he prefers buying you experiences rather than items, like holidays or trips to the fair. He decides against buying you a private island to visit for the summer, but only after staring at the property page online for three hours straight. Like I said, he really is trying!

B = Blood (How Messy Are They Willing to Get in Pursuit of Their Darling? Would They Embrace Chaos and Revel in the Crimson Tableau Painted by Their Actions?):

Dick: I’ve mentioned before that he’s pretty hesitant to kill. He’s gotten over his wild younger years, and is now more mature and in control of emotions. Now, all of that is one huge lie he tells himself that only lasts as long nobody ever tries to hurt you. Dick wears his heart on his sleeve, and then it gets even worse when you come around because his heart is just walking around outside his chest, with no aknowledgement for the dangers of the world. He does try, he really does, but when he snaps, he snaps hard. He’s not too bad of a sadist (also a lie) but when he easily catches whoever has been bothering you, he… well, he might play with them. Just a little bit. He doesn’t kill, he’s very careful of that, but honestly if I was that poor soul, I’d rather be dead. And then the next day, he goes back to being the cheerful sweetheart we all know and love!

Jason: I’ve also mentioned that Jason, unlike Dick, is very, very eager to get bloody. In canon, he enjoys punishing sinners and whatnot, and when he’s fallen for you, uh… So, basically, Jason would rather die than admit it, but he thinks of himself as your protector, your knight in shining leather armour. And along with that previously mentioned possessiveness, he totally lets it get out of hand. He’s aware you probably don’t want him slaughtering everyone who has ever harmed a single hair on your head, but unless you specifically tell him not to, he’s not going to stop. But if you do, he will. He’s loyal, he’s fervent in that loyalty. He wants to destroy anything that could ever hurt you. But he’d never go against your ruling, your will. He might complain about it, though. Loudly, very loudly. However, if you do want everyone who has ever annoyed you dead, he’s totally up for it no questions asked. Would probably consider it a date night of sorts.

S = Stigma (Can the Roots of Their Obsession Be Traced to a Dark Past, a Blend of Childhood Trauma, Twisted Curiosity, and a Skewed Perception of Love?):

Dick: Oh boy, this guy… He’s the poster child for childhood trauma affecting your perception of love. When his parents were murdered, he latched onto Bruce. And when Bruce kicked him out, he latched onto Bludhaven. And now when even Bludhaven can’t bring him any semblance of comfort, of home, you’re fucking heaven-sent. He latches onto you like a benign growth, and god help anyone who tries to tear the two of you apart.

Jason: Oh boy times two. Not the best childhood, raised on the streets. Taken in by Bruce, things are looking better and then- Well, we all know what happens then. After the trauma of literally digging himself out of his own grave, he feels a bit… disconnected from the world? He feels like a ghost, like he’s still dead, like his death never even mattered and the world kept going after he’d been gone. And that’d fuck up anybody, but someone personally trained by the Batman? Woof. We see in Under The Red Hood that Jason really does think vengeance is proof of love, at least in his case. To him, love is bloody and ruthless. It’s cannibalistic. A give and take. But since he doesn’t want to take from you, he’ll just give himself over wholly.

X = Xoanon (Does Their Reverence for Their Darling Border on Worship, Reaching Extreme Lengths to Prove Their Devotion and Ensure Unwavering Loyalty?):

Dick: He sees you like the sun. Powerful, brilliant, beautiful. And you’ll probably burn him to cinders as he loves you, but he doesn’t care. He probably enjoys the idea a little. Wouldn’t it be nice, to die in your arms? To close his eyes and disappear into you, where he’d never be apart from you again? He realises that sort of thinking is a bit creepy, but it’s one of the few things he simply can’t fight against. Not even the littlest bit. He’s self-aware to know he’s putting you on a pedestal, that you’re not some god or something, you’re just like him. Human. Maybe that makes him worship you even more. He can’t tell, it’s too blurry these days. He just knows you’re important, more so than he is. More so than anything is, really. Also, gotta mention body worship kink. Like, he’s really way too into it honestly. He’ll service you for however long you can last, and then place a hundred kisses against your exhausted body telling you how good you did, how perfect you are. When you look at him after a session like that, you can always see something a little too intense, too crazed to be called love. He knows he’s trying to hide it. He’ll do better next time, okay?

Jason: You’re his master. The hand around the leash. He’s angry at the world, so fucking angry. He wants to destroy it all. Assuming here, you probably don’t want the entire world blown to smithereens, so you’re his… conscience. Whatever you say goes. If you say Joker dies today, then he dies. If you say he can never kill another soul, then he won’t. He’s sassy about all of it, but it’s painfully obvious to literally everyone that he will follow every single order you give. And of course, he wants it that way. Maybe he really should get a collar for himself. He thinks it’d be cute, with your name on it in brilliant gold letters. He certainly thinks that the reaction his goons would give would be worth the effort, never mind your own reaction. Call him your good boy and you will get railed so hard you break the bed, lmfao

L = Love Letters (Is Courting an Intricate Dance Marked by Obsessive Letters and Gestures That Blur the Line Between Devotion and Insanity?):

Dick: I can’t see Dick ever actually sending you the letters he writes, but my god, he writes them. At first, it’s just little doodles in the corners of his very important paperwork, and then he’s scribbling on sticky notes, and eventually, he just gives in and buys a fucking notebook. They’re long winded and silly and he’d absolutely rather die than share them with you. But they make it just the slightest bit easier to choke down his devotion to you, so it doesn’t strangle him right then and there. He almost finds it as addicting as you are, almost being the keyword here. It’s genuinely pretty embarrassing, from an outsider’s standpoint. It’s like what a middle schooler would write in their diary, just lots of your name and hearts and very ridiculous poetry. He’d be good at it if it wasn’t about you, okay?

Jason: Jason, in direct contrast to Dick, writes very good poetry. Especially when it’s about you. It’s the sort of stuff they’ll put in museums, that future historians will write about. Of course they won’t know half of his more demented metaphors are just… straight up things he’s done for you. It’s flowing and beautiful and it’d make you tear up if you ever read it. You probably won’t just because Jason doesn’t really care if you read it, so he won’t share it with you on purpose. However if you find him one day in the library, and you ask to see whatever it is he’s made, you’ll be so very, very lucky. And Jason will turn tomato red, so that’s another plus.

Tim: Everybody knows that when Tim starts a list again, his mental health is on the decline. The list about you is concerningly long. And I’m really not saying that lightly, for Mr ‘I stalk literally everyone at least a little bit’. It’s something at four hundred thousand words by now, he’s not sure exactly. The little note app on his phone has had to suffer through hundreds or even thousands of hours of Tim writing down the most minute details of you and your life. How do you like to sit best? Is your posture okay, or should he worry about it? When you’re hungry, what food do you go for first? What about when you’re sick? If he’s ever around, tapping away on his phone, and you think he’s not paying you any attention, you’d be very, very wrong. Would probably share it with you just to laugh at your horrified face.

Damian: Damian was raised to perfect every form of art, from martial to dance, to even the more traditional ones. He’s always had a fondness for painting, and you’re most certainly his muse. Instead of letters, he paints you. For every memory he has of you, he has at least a sketch. He doesn’t care for almost all of them, as he doesn’t think they capture your beauty properly, so he doesn’t really care what happens with said drawings. Your first meeting has been drawn at least twenty times, and your sleeping face probably double that. Yes, he does draw you in more passionate poses as well. Your face all fucked out, drool leaking from your lips, is a personal favourite of his. He’ll probably share those ones with you, enjoying seeing you squirm. Asking if you want to help him find some extra inspiration because he’s all irritatingly smooth like that. Will laugh if you crush the lewd drawing up, agreeing it doesn’t do you justice. He’ll just have to try again.

[yea-baiyi]

translation of the “true form” conversation is as if hua cheng gave xie lian a fake name when they first met, so when xie lian asks “so what’s your real name” and hua cheng panics it’s bc he thinks xie lian is asking for his dead name but actually xie lian was just asking for his real chosen name because he wants to fuck him

[the-star-and-the-smols]

Sean McCool

Chapter 1: A Big Day For The Irish

Word count: like 3600

Rating: Teen

Warnings: fearplay, injury

Arthur is startled awake by the most unusual of sounds in the night. Thunderous booms, the deafening sound of shuffling against grass and dirt, the horses crying. His first thought is a strong storm, but opening his eyes to a starry morning sky peppered with small white clouds dismisses this possibility. As he forces himself awake, a number of awful scenarios run through his mind: bounty hunters, Pinkertons, O'Driscolls, common thieves. He draws his pistol as he blinks, scanning through the blur of his sleep.

"Who goes there?"

Not a word or sound save from the panic of the horses hitched on a nearby tree. However, something else immediately captures his interest. Something very large, taller than he is, and spanning an impressive distance, like a long wall. Different colors, too, as it goes along. Browns, a deep blue, a light patterned blue, some soft reds and greens, softly glowing in the moonlight.

"Arthur?"

From behind him, Hosea rises to his feet and comes to stand beside him.

"Hosea.... Do you know what the hell I'm lookin' at here? I can't make heads or tails o’ this thing right now."

"Might've been what spooked the horses.... I don't know. Give me a minute, will you?"

Hosea makes his way toward the wall, studying it with an intense curiosity. "Looks... strangely familiar, though I can't put my finger on why."

"All I see is a wall. ‘Course, that don't make much sense. Got an interestin’ shape to it, that's for sure."

Hosea backs up cautiously as the wall seems to move upward and downward with a sound that can only be described as a low, deep sigh.

"I don't think this is a wall, son," he croaks deeply, his gaze shifting back and forth between different ends of the so-called wall.

"Then what the hell do you think it is?"

"I-I think it's a giant!" Hosea wheezes.

"A giant?! Hosea, you must'a drank more than you thought you did. Giants ain't real, now I know you of all people got sense enough to know that," he barks at the older man with a confused look.

"Shh, not so loud," he whispers, "You'll wake it. And-and it don't make a lick of sense to me either, but-but look." He points shakily to a light-colored, oddly shaped section of the wall that seems to jut out from a strange tunnel of cloth. "That's a hand."

Arthur's brow furrows curiously as he takes a few steps toward the appendage, holstering his gun but keeping his hand on it.

"Don't touch it, Arthur."

Arthur nods as he continues to inspect the thing, looking down at his hand then back up again at the towering object, curled up and still taller than himself. Up, down, up, down again. He stumbles back, his mouth becoming an entry point for any flying insect that dares to become breakfast.

"What. The. Hell?!"

"See, I told you. What else could it be?"

"I see yer point," Arthur surrenders, continuing to back away until he's behind Hosea. With the realization, the wall seems to morph into something a lot less wall-like and a lot more human-like. It rises and falls rhythmically with a low gust of air. Arthur watches as Hosea makes his way to the other end of the giant, the part with red and green.

"We need to wake Sean and get the hell outta here!!!!" Arthur scans the environment for any sign of his friend. "Hey, where is that little Irish weasel anyway? He was right-"

Arthur freezes in place, an icy chill running through his veins as his mind starts putting two and two together.

"There.... OH MY-"

"-I'm afraid we're looking at him," Hosea interjects, his voice wavering with emotion. "His head is up this way." He motions for Arthur to come closer.

Arthur doesn't believe it. He doesn't want to believe it; it all seems so absurd. He has to prove it for himself, as gut-wrenching as that may be, if only to convince himself he hasn't gone completely nuts, or had too much to drink, so he walks toward Hosea's position, his light step on the dirt feeling like a trudge through mud. He approaches the patch of soft orangey reds that starts to make a lot more sense, running the strands through his fingers like long, thin cables. He recognizes Sean's ear, what must easily be the height of his own body. Maybe even more.

"Goddamn..." He mutters in utter disbelief. Blue eyes widen, his chest tightening uncomfortably.

Just then, a deep, loud, Sean-like grumble is heard and felt in the ground. The curtain of hair begins to shift, moving toward the two at an alarming pace.

"We gotta MOVE!" Arthur bleats, turning tail toward the woods. Hosea follows him as quickly as he can, soon falling into a coughing fit and forced to stop in his tracks. Arthur sees this, but before he has the chance to run and assist him, his father figure is halfway pinned underneath Sean's massive cheek, his legs almost completely buried. The giant grumbles in his sleep as he settles on his side, completely unaware of the mess unfolding before him.

"Hosea!" Arthur runs to his aid. Sean's breath washes over his whole body in warm, damp gusts as his face is now turned toward the pair, yet it chills the surface of his skin. It's an eerie, disturbing feeling he tries his best to disregard; there are more pressing matters at the moment.

Shit, that’s still pretty hard to ignore.

"Well, at least he was considerate enough to spare my head and torso," Hosea croaks, trying to make light of the situation. He pulls at his legs with his hands to free them, but they only barely budge.

"You alright, Hosea?" Arthur kneels down next to him, searching his features for any trace of discomfort.

"Not too bad right now," he grunts in a pained voice, "but I need to get the pressure off these legs, quick. Give me a hand here."

"Mhm." Arthur pulls at one of Hosea's thighs with the weight of his arms and upper body. It budges a little, but still remains wedged under Sean's cheek.

"Shoot. No luck," Hosea mutters, eyes welling with tears.

"Lemme try somethin' else here." Arthur gets down in a seated position next to Hosea, pressing his boots against the cheek. He tugs the skin and fat of Sean's cheek upward with his boots, the friction with his stubble emitting a sound akin to a shave, then once again using the force of his upper body strength to pry Hosea's leg free. This time, the limb easily slides outward, giving Hosea a bit of relief.

"Great, now the other one."

Arthur moves to Hosea's other side, doing the same for his right leg. The prodding of Sean's cheek makes his nose and mouth twitch, drawing the pair's attention to it briefly before focusing back on the task at hand. "Alright, this one's in there pretty deep, so, try and pull with me, okay?"

Hosea nods as the two pull, heaving and grunting before finally freeing his foot of their friend's face, as well as his boot.

"You okay?" Arthur asks, inspecting the leg and foot for any sign of injury.

"Somewhat." He flexes the limb, wincing and groaning with pain. "I think it got pretty banged up. Still, I don't think it's broken."

"Sorry to hear. You don't look so good. Hopefully it ain't broken, at least. " Arthur sighs, taking in the sight of his gang brother's massive head. He chuckles at the sight, then turns back to the older man. "Good lord, he's enormous... Can't even imagine what kinda shit he'd get into when he wakes up. His ego was already big enough before." The thought gives Arthur a headache.

Hosea's eyes are still set on the giant's features in front of them, concerned. "Looks like we're about to find out."

Sean's eyelids peel open only very slightly, and he rubs his eyes with massive fingers. He grumbles, vibrating the ground underneath him in a pained voice.

"Oh, me head... Feels like… egh, shite…"

Sean's voice is startlingly loud and deep, and the two back away to give him some space, with Hosea forced to shuffle back on his rear due to his injured leg.

"Ugh..."

Sean sits up, casting the two in shadow. His hat remains on the ground, his eyes opening further.

"Where the hell am I?"

He scans the environment, the rays of the morning sun creeping over the trees and blinding him. Holding his hand in front of him, he turns his gaze downward to avoid the sun's glare, trying to make sense of the two little blobs he notices on the ground. He blinks.

"What's this now?"

He picks one of them up, Arthur, who is unpleasantly surprised by the fingers that effortlessly wrap around him almost painfully, pinning his arms to his sides and restricting his mobility. As he's whisked dozens of feet in the air in seconds, his stomach seems to want to linger on the ground for a few moments, and Sean certainly doesn't give it the opportunity to catch up. His surroundings are a blur until the movement slows and halts at his friend's face. He knows it's Sean, he's known him for years. The young redhead's always been like an annoying little brother to him, but that closeness and friendship was left at the ground below. As he’s enveloped in the massive hand of a familiar stranger, a frigid heat crawls over his skin, up his spine. He can hear nothing but the throb of his own heartbeat in his ears, his head thick.

Little brother? Not so little now.

Now, Arthur is constricted by an enormous hand, and his entire field of vision is filled with nothing but Sean. Green irises like serving plates pierce through Arthur's invisible armor, making him feel unusually vulnerable under his gaze. Here he was, at the complete mercy of a powerful fool. If it had been a total stranger, he manages to think, it would be less scary right now. He knows this behemoth, impulsive and reckless, and it leaves Arthur petrified, hardly able to breathe.

The brow furrows, eyes and pupils expanding, and as he speaks, Arthur can feel a gentle buzz through his fingers.

"..Arthur?!?"

Sean’s expression becomes warmer as he recognizes his friend, so teeny in his hand. Creases form around his eyes, a sign that he's smiling; there's just so much of Sean to take in that Arthur is really only able to focus on those massive jade irises, burning so intensely with curiosity it becomes impossible to tear his gaze away, no matter how desperately he wants to.

And Arthur knows better than most, there's a lot you can tell about what a feller is thinking through eyes and eyes alone. The sense of wonder and amusement in the younger man's gaze is palpable, and although familiar, is so much bigger and brighter than he’s ever witnessed. He can feel Sean's pulse through his fingers, and the grip finally loosens enough to not be uncomfortable, allowing for Arthur to move his arms finally. Not that that's much help, since he really only has Sean's thumb to grab onto.

"Wh- what the fuck? How-how'd ya get so- uh... little?!"

He stammers in disbelief.

Sean's breath rustles Arthur's hair as he speaks, the scent of whiskey and cigarettes. His rough voice is painfully loud and detailed in his ear, and slightly deeper than he's used to. Arthur can't help but chuckle awkwardly at the unusual situation; it's really the only response he can muster other than the scream lingering in his throat.

"I-I ain't little, Sean. Just.. take a look around ya!"

Arthur is momentarily relieved of the intensity of his gaze as Sean looks around, noticing the ends of his hair brushing against his blazer like an enormous broom. It's easier for Arthur to take everything in when he's not being stared down by a pair of humongous eyes. A breath of fresh air.

The Irishman looks upon the landscape surrounding him, noticing how he easily dwarfs the trees, even from his seated position.

"Jeeeeesus..."

He lets out a low, piercing whistle, then turns back to Arthur, a smug grin stretching out further than Arthur is tall.

"Y'know, Arthur Morgan, you aren't nearly as ugly from this point of view. Dare I say it, yer almost adorable."

"Oh, please-" Arthur can feel the wall of fingers constricting his limbs once more, and Sean becomes giddier than ever as he seems to get further away, moving Arthur back a bit to inspect him with better focus. The sensation is dizzying.

"I mean it! Yer like a tiny little doll in my hand. A grumpy one at that~!!! It's endearing! Y'know, I've always liked the idea of bein' bigger and stronger, but this is somethin' else! A right fantasy, this is!!! A dream!!! Am I dreamin'?!"

"SEAN!" A voice barks from below them.

Sean’s gaze turns downward toward Hosea, who sits with his legs stretched out on the grass.

"Put him down, son! Right now! You're hurting him!" Hosea commands.

He looks back at Arthur, who seems quite a bit more purple than usual at the moment. The younger man's features immediately soften with concern, and he loosens his grip on the outlaw as he lowers him to the ground, much more slowly than his startling ascent moments ago.

"O-of course, Mr. Matthews!"

A disoriented Arthur slides off of Sean's fingers and onto the ground, landing in a heap with a soft "oof."

"Sorry, English. Y'okay?"

Arthur lets out a muffled "yep" from his crumpled position before righting himself, sitting with his legs sprawled out like Hosea.

A small smile tugs at the corner of Sean's mouth from the affirmation. There is a moment of stunned silence between the three of them, the gangster-turned-giant running his fingers through the grass, his eyes glued to the two on the ground as he orients himself to this reality. His fingers suddenly brush up against a solid object, which he lifts up to eye level. A boot. Realizing Hosea's sock is exposed, he lowers the boot pinched between two fingers to Hosea, receiving a soft "thank you."

"No problem."

He yawns, rubbing his temple.

"Could surely use a cup of coffee right now, though. What a way to wake up."

"I don't think they make coffee cups that big," Arthur laughs. "I'm afraid you're outta luck."

"What the hell happened anyways?! Last thing I remember, I was celebratin', havin' a few drinks with the pair o' yous. Now this!"

"I don't know," Arthur replies. "Maybe it was that special shine you got all excited about. 'Course, moonshine can do a lot, but I ain't ever heard about it makin' men grow into giants.”

Hosea chimes in. "No, you got a point, Arthur. Don't make sense to me that it happened in the first place, strange as it is, but, as you said, so was that vendor."

Arthur groans. "I never shoulda bought that shit for him. Why couldn't I have just got him a new shirt, or a holster, or somethin' for Ennis-"

"-You serious, Morgan? My birthday, and you're giftin' a horse-"

"-or a muzzle, for that goddamn mouth of his!!"

"Well, as they say, never look a gift horse in the mouth! Hahahahaha!"

Sean retorts playfully.

"Shut up," Arthur growls. "This ain't no joke!"

"You just findin’ that out, Englishman?! This is bloody remarkable! Just look at me!"

He gestures to himself, his arm span the length of a baseball field, eyes wide beyond belief.

"I gotta test somethin' for meself here!"

The pair watch as Sean reaches for the trunk of a nearby cedar, the length of half his arm. He wraps a hand around it near the bottom, and twists it free almost effortlessly, shaking the dirt from the roots.

"HAHAHAHA! Look at this, boys! I'm the strongest man on Earth!"

He brags, his tone livelier than ever, booming and echoing in the mountains with a bassy tone. He lifts his arms above his head in a strongman pose, fist still clenched around the tree he so easily uprooted.

"Just wait 'til them girls see me! I'll be havin’ to fight ‘em off me-"

"Will you quit mouthin' for ten goddamn seconds and LISTEN?!" Arthur barks up at Sean, clenching his fists. When Sean lowers his arms, he continues. "We gotta get Hosea to a doctor."

Sean's smile fades.

"..Doctor? What for? You alright, Hosea?"

He leans in closer, inspecting the older man.

Hosea hums, pain apparent in his speech. "Not particularly. Leg got busted up pretty bad. But I'll make it."

"... How'd that happen?"

Arthur and Hosea exchange glances, unsure of how to respond.

"D-did I..?"

Sean points to his chest with tightening fingers.

Hosea purses his lips, sighing. "I'm afraid so, Sean."

The redhead shuffles back slightly, sending slight shockwaves through the earth below him.

"Shit, I-I-I'm sorry!"

"Accidents happen, Sean," Hosea assures him. "It's okay. It could have happened with anyone."

"Could it, really?" Arthur remarks skeptically.

Hosea pulls out a mortar and pestle from his bag, beginning to grind some herbs. "Let's just get ready. We've got a long journey ahead of us. Would you mind brewing us some coffee, Arthur?"

"Sure." Arthur takes the pot and grounds from his bag.

"Anything I can help with?"

Sean asks, his eyes darting between the two as he sets the tree down near the forest with a crash.

"Now you mention it," Hosea responds, "the horses seem awful spooked. Maybe now's a good time to get 'em used to ya. Wouldn't want 'em,” he grunts, “runnin' away soon as they got untethered."

"Will do. Though I don't suppose I'll be ridin' Ennis back to camp,"

he chuckles half-heartedly, getting down on his belly, the tremors in the earth from his movements making the horses whinny and cry.

"Shh, it's okay, now, it's only me."

He reaches his hand out toward the horses, uncertain.

"I won't hurt ya..."

No luck. The horses buck, trying to break free.

“Woah, easy there!”

He pulls his hand back slowly to avoid startling them further.

"Y'know, Sean, I've been thinking," Hosea adds, "Somehow it seems whatever you were wearing when you slept grew with you overnight-"

"Thank God for that," Arthur mutters, getting a scoop of coffee grounds.

"-So, what did you have in your bag? Edible, I mean?"

Sean looks to his satchel, still draped over his shoulder from the night before. He shuffles through it.

"Tin o' crackers, peaches, a carrot-"

"Perfect! Feed that to the horses!" Hosea yells out excitedly.

Sean grins, finally catching on.

"Ohoho, they're gonna love this one!"

He pulls out a fresh carrot, the height of a two-story building.

"Damn," Arthur remarks, "Sure don't see that every day." The two smaller men share a chuckle.

"Hey beauties, ya like carrots? Well I've got a real whopper for ya!"

Sean experimentally holds the carrot out, wiggling it slightly to entice the horses, which still buck and neigh at Sean's movements, but less so.

"C'mon, horses. Sean's got a real treat for ya!"

The first horse to seem interested is Ennis, who nudges his snout in Sean's direction hungrily.

"That's it! That's my boy!"

Sean pinches a small piece off the end of the carrot with his finger, very slowly reaching out toward Ennis, the bit of carrot pinched between his fingers. Ennis whinnies, and Sean shushes him, speaking in an almost whisper.

"It's okay! You know me!"

Ennis seems calmer, eager to bite the carrot. Sean opens his fingers, the chunk of enormous vegetable sitting on the tip of his middle digit. The horse approaches him warily, finally taking a bite.

"Yes, that's it! Good boy! Tasty, innit? Hehehe."

Seeing Ennis enjoying the carrot piques the other horses' interests, and they begin to point their snouts toward him.

Arthur pours Hosea’s coffee, handing it to him and receiving a quiet ‘thanks.’ The two watch Sean with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

"Hosea, what in the hell are we gonna do about this?" Arthur whispers, trying to maintain enough volume to be heard over Sean’s re-taming of the horses.

"I don't rightly know myself. I’ve seen a lot in my day, but this sure as shit beats all!"

“Well the way I see it, it looks like we got a mighty big problem on our hands.”

“The biggest yet.” Hosea empties the ground herbs into his coffee cup, swirling it around. “We’ll find a way to get him back to normal. Sean's a good kid, got a lotta heart. He just needs some direction, and discipline.”

“I ain't so sure discipline is gonna cut it now, Hosea. He could overpower all of us, easy! Hell, he don’t listen to me half the time at normal size; I can only imagine he'll laugh in my face now if I so much as disagree with him on how we should go about things.”

Hosea lets out a light chuckle. “Let's… hope not.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “He may be young and foolish, but he cares about this gang. And if he cares, he’ll listen.”

“Maybe. I just hope you're right. I guess we’ll just… take it as it comes.” Arthur shrugs.

“That’s seemed to work for us so far.” Hosea smiles a little as he watches the horses, now all happily eating chunks of carrot out of Sean’s palm.

[stevethehairington]

i love you prompts: 98 w/ romantic steddie? 😌

lou!! thank you for sending this in!! ooh this is a good one!!

98. "Take a deep breath"

It’s late when the credits finally start to roll onscreen.

Steve guesses it’s sometime close to midnight, or maybe a little after, but he’d taken his watch off earlier before he’d gotten elbow deep in dirty dish water, cleaning up after the mess they somehow managed to make whipping up a simple dinner of grilled cheese and tomato soup. It sits on the kitchen counter, all the way across the room, and the nearest clock in the Munson trailer hangs beside the phone, too far away for Steve to see from his spot on the couch.

He can’t exactly twist in his place to try and catch a better glimpse of it, or get up to fetch his watch either. Not while Eddie leans up against his side, arms crossed over his chest and neck bent awkwardly so his head can rest against Steve’s shoulder, fast asleep.

When they first put the movie on, the two of them had started off on opposite ends of the already pretty small couch, but as it progressed, they’d gradually shifted closer and closer — in the name of sharing popcorn easier, to whisper their movie commentary directly into each other’s ears rather than speak over the film, and, eventually, so it seems, so that Eddie could use Steve as a pillow. 

Not that Steve minded or anything. He liked it, in fact — likes it. Likes having Eddie so close, likes feeling the warmth of his body pressing up against his own, likes the fact that Eddie is comfortable enough with him to let his guard down like this.

Eddie hasn’t been sleeping all that well as of late, so when his head tipped onto Steve’s shoulder a little over half an hour ago, Steve just slouched a little lower to ease the angle of his neck and reached for the remote to turn down the volume. It had been a little hard for him to hear it after that, but he hadn’t really paid it much attention after that point anyways.

Now, though, the movie is over, and it’s late enough that Steve’s verging on overstaying his welcome. He knows he should probably wake Eddie so he can let him know that he’s going and say his goodbyes and head out.

But Eddie just looks way too peaceful. Steve doesn’t want to wake him.

Instead, he decides that he can just leave a note. In case Eddie does wake up to find him gone. He’ll know nothing bad happened to Steve, just that he went home for the night and that they’ll see each other tomorrow — because chances are they will. They hardly went a day without spinning into each other’s orbits now.

Except, Steve doesn’t want to just leave Eddie on the couch either. He knows from personal experience that the Munson’s sofa is not exactly the most comfortable thing ever. Every time he falls asleep on it, he wakes up with a crick in his neck and an ache in his back. He doesn’t want that for Eddie.

His bedroom isn’t far, just down the hall, and Steve will feel a lot better if he gets Eddie to his bed before he leaves. So, he does his best to maneuver out from beneath Eddie, cradling his head as he removes it from his shoulder and lowers it to the cushion instead.

Steve takes a second to roll out his shoulders, then he slips one arm under Eddie’s back and the other behind his knees, which are curled to his side. As carefully as he can, he lifts Eddie from the couch.

Eddie stirs, but he doesn’t wake, thank god. He just smacks his mouth a little and buries his nose into the collar of Steve’s sweater, and Steve lets out the breath he didn’t even realize he was holding.

Eddie’s lighter than he looks, but still pretty heavy, and Steve doesn’t want to drop him, so he takes it slow as he follows the path towards Eddie’s door at the end of the hall. It’s, thankfully, already open, so all he has to do is kick out a foot to push it wide enough to fit through.

The blinds in Eddie’s room are still fucked up — broken enough that the slats droop down in a way that gives the morning sun the perfect opening to shine right in and wake him up before it’s time. Eddie complains about it constantly, but he hasn’t made any sort of attempt to fix them yet, and right now, Steveis grateful for that. The glow of the moon is bright enough to seep in through the gap, providing just enough gentle light that Steve can see where he’s going.

He makes it to the side of Eddie’s bed without issue, and delicately deposits Eddie onto his mattress. Again, Eddie shifts, rolling slightly onto his side, but he still doesn’t rouse.

The blankets are shoved to the end of Eddie’s bed, and Steve stifles a snort at that as he reaches for them and starts to pull them up and over Eddie’s body. He knows Eddie runs cold, so he takes a moment to tuck the corners in and add an extra blanket to the top so that he’s nice and cozy.

Then, unable to help himself, Steve brushes Eddie’s bangs to the side and leans down to leave a soft ghost of a kiss to his forehead.

He’s just starting to straighten up and pull his hand back when quick fingers dart out to curl around his wrist, trapping him there.

Steve freezes, eyes snapping back open to find Eddie, awake, blinking hazily back up at him.

“Steve?” Eddie asks, groggy, still somewhere halfway in between awake and asleep.

“Hey, yeah, it’s me,” Steve whispers. “You fell asleep, I just brought you to your room so you’d be comfortable,” he tells him.

Eddie smiles then, this sleepy, goopy sort of thing that makes something warm settle in Steve’s chest, and he tugs on Steve’s wrist. “C’mere,” he mumbles, and Steve thinks maybe he has something he wants to tell him.

So he leans in closer.

And closer.

And closer.

Eddie tips his chin up, and Steve thinks he’s going for his ear, so he can whisper his sleepsoft secret. Only, his mouth doesn’t go anywhere near Steve’s ear. Instead, it lands against his own in a—

In a kiss.

It’s chaste, tender, just the sweet press of lips against lips. It catches Steve off guard at first, but the surprise settles, and Steve is about to let himself melt into it.

Then the moment shatters.

Eddie jerks back, bolting upright as he scrambles far enough back in his bed that he hits the headboard. His eyes are wide open now, fully alert and not a single trace of sleepiness anywhere on his face as he stares at Steve. His hand, the one he’d had around Steve’s wrist just seconds ago, hovers over his own mouth, like he can’t quite believe what it has just done.

“Oh, oh, fuck,” Eddie chokes out. “Shit, shit, shit, I’m so— I didn’t mean to— fuck, you have to— please don’t—”

���Woah, hey, it’s… it’s alright, Eddie,” Steve says, holding his hands out in what he hopes is a placating gesture. He doesn’t come closer, doesn’t want to frighten Eddie further, but he wants Eddie to know that there’s no reason for him to be so scared. He’s not… he’s not mad. Or upset. Or anything that Eddie probably thinks he is right now. Not even close.

Eddie’s words start to fail him as his breathing begins to hitch, and Steve can see the rapidfire rise and fall of his chest. His eyes are on Steve, but he’s not looking at him. He’s looking through him, like he’s somewhere else right now. Like he’s spiraling into every single bad place his mind can take him right now.

Steve recognizes it for what it is — a panic attack.

“Eddie,” Steve tries, forgetting politeness as he moves to the edge of Eddie’s bed and kneels against the mattress. He reaches out to rest his hand on Eddie’s shoulder — to give him a point of contact, something to focus on. Something to ground him. It’s what usually helps Steve whenever he’s having a panic attack, finding an anchor, to bring him back down.

Eddie’s hand flies out to grasp at Steve’s wrist, and Steve lets him pull it from his shoulder so that he can curl his fingers around Steve’s palm instead. His grip is tight, nails biting into Steve’s skin, but Steve doesn’t care.

“You’re safe,” Steve reassures. “You’re safe and I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Eddie nods, but Steve isn’t so sure his words have reached him. Not when he still looks so panicked, and his breathing is still coming out too fast.

“Hey,” Steve says softly, rubbing his thumb over the back of Eddie’s hand. “Take a deep breath,” he instructs.

Eddie’s eyes settle onto Steve’s face, still hazy but doing better at focusing. Steve smiles at him, nods encouragingly. “Come on, do it with me, deep breath in.”

Steve makes a show of inhaling again, holding up his fingers to count to three before he starts to let it all back out in an exhale. He goes through it twice before Eddie catches on and starts to mirror him.

They follow the pattern until finally Eddie’s breathing returns to normal and the panic seems to subside.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, once Eddie’s shoulders slump and his head drops forward, his hair hanging like a curtain around his face. Steve hasn’t let go of Eddie’s hand yet, and he doesn’t plan to.

Eddie lets out a humorless laugh, but he doesn’t look up. “Depends,” he starts. “Are you going to… to fucking… hit me or shout at me or something?”

Steve’s face screws up, mouth tugging down into a hard frown. “What?” He asks. “Why would I do that? Because you had a panic attack?”

Eddie snorts. “No,” he replies, like he can’t believe that’s what Steve thinks this is about. He stays quiet for a second, two, three. Like he can’t quite bring himself to say it. “Because I— because I kissed you,” he finally breathes.

“Oh,” Steve says softly. He watches Eddie for a moment, doesn’t like that he can’t see his face. He wants to see his face. So, with careful fingers, he reaches out to brush Eddie’s hair back, to tuck it behind his ear.

Eddie’s breath catches as he does, and his gaze flickers up to Steve’s, briefly, before fixing firmly on his lap again.

“Eddie,” Steve starts, “I’m not mad that you kissed me.”

It takes a second for his words to sink in.

When they do, Eddie’s head snaps up. His eyes land on Steve’s, wide and surprised and searching. “You’re not?”

Steve shakes his head. Lets a little smile grace his lips. “Nope,” he confirms. “Not one single bit.”

And, well, in for a penny, in for a pound, right? He shuffles a little closer on his knees, presses further into Eddie’s space. “In fact…” he trails off. Does a little searching of his own. “I wouldn’t mind if you did it again,” Steve finishes after he’s sure that Eddie isn’t going to push him away.

Eddie’s eyebrows lift this time, the pull together. Steve wants to smooth out the little wrinkle that forms between them. 

“Are you… you’re serious?” Eddie asks.

“Serious as a heart attack,” Steve replies.

The corner of Eddie’s mouth twitches, then a smile breaks out across his face. “Holy shit, you’re serious,” he says, followed by a breathless little laugh.

Steve can’t help but laugh too, and he nods and starts to tug at Eddie’s hand to pull him in this time. “Yeah,” he says. “Now that that’s been established, you think I could get another one?”

Eddie looks at him like he’s won the lottery. “Jesus christ, yes, yes please,” he says, and the hand not caught in Steve’s comes up to bunch into the front of his sweater as he meets him halfway.

It’s a little offcentered, a little overeager on both of their parts, but it’s perfect.

When they break apart, Eddie presses his forehead against Steve’s. “Were you leaving?” He asks.

“I was,” Steve answers. “I don’t want to now,” he admits.

Eddie chuckles and lets go of Steve only just long enough to peel back the covers Steve had so lovingly tucked around him not too long ago.

“So stay,” Eddie says.

With his welcome so graciously extended like that, who is Steve to say no?

So he stays.

100 ways to say i love you prompts

[quaranmine]

i just went to bed, then 15 minutes later got out of bed and turned the lights on, grabbed a pencil and sticky note, and began frantically calculating my total possible annual leave between now and December 2025. Again.

just in case anyone is wondering just how meticulous and obsessive i am over future travel and time off

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

cough hack wheeze who wants a teeny tiny fantasy au snippet with uhhhh laughingstock Tension. it's like... half a scene! unedited & out of context As Is Tradition

~

“Nothin’ much. I think I’ll poke around nearby towns, shake down some travelers - see what falls into my paws.”

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Barn,” Howdy says. He sweeps aggressively, spreading dirt more than gathering it into the usual neat piles. “Who knows if those ne'er-do-wells are still roaming around the woods - if you and Ed couldn’t take them, what makes you think you could alone? Or- or! What if you stumble across those cultists? I hate to think of you stuck in an ambush with no help coming, knowing fully well that-”

A large paw slips the broom out of his grip and sets it to the side, and Howdy stammers to a stop as Barnaby crowds him against the bar with a soft, “Howdy.”

Howdy swallows hard, bracketed on each side by strong blue arms. The look Barnaby fixes him with dries up his well of words and bristles his fuzz. Howdy’s heart hammers against his ribs. He can feel Barnaby’s body heat, and it’s lighting his blood on fire. 

“I’m not gonna be reckless, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Barnaby says. He barely needs to speak louder than a whisper for Howdy to hear him loud and clear. He smells like sweet smoke. “The other day was a one time deal, cross my heart. But, if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll take someone with me. I’m sure Jules is itchin’ to get outta town.”

“What would really make me feel better is if you stay,” Howdy blurts, just barely reining in the with me. He tenses, knowing that he’s toeing a dangerous line. One wrong word, and he’ll make the unspoken spoken - but the stress drains out of him as Barn’s eyes go soft. Perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad. Of course there’s no reason to worry, not about this, not with him. There never has been.

“You know I can’t do that,” Barnaby murmurs. “Not yet.”

Howdy doesn’t need to say that he knows. Not for the first time and with any luck, not for the last, it clicks in his mind that they’re on the same page - he doesn’t need to be a telepath to understand the thoughts behind Barnaby’s dark eyes. 

Barnaby says it anyway. “I gotta get him back. I can’t… there’s no room for anythin’ else right now.”

Howdy sighs through his nose and slumps against the counter digging into the small of his back. He nods and adjusts the lapels of Barnaby’s vest. His fingers ghost over soft blue, and Barnaby doesn’t flinch at the contact. If anything, he leans the barest millimeter into it. His gaze burns into Howdy’s, even if they aren’t meeting at the moment, but it isn’t a bad feeling. Quite the opposite, actually.

“Well,” Howdy says in a low voice, “if you find a good lead, send for the rest of us. I’ll be there as fast as my four legs can scamper.”

Barnaby smirks. “Even if you need to take a boat?”

“Even so, Barn.”

The smirk slides into something that isn’t a frown, but isn’t a smile. It’s too soft for a grimace, but too intense for simple recognition. Barnaby seems to sway forward, and Howdy is sorely tempted to meet him halfway.  

But Barnaby’s claw taps the counter, and he pulls away before anyone’s mind can be made up. Howdy’s hands slip from his lapels, brushing against fur as they fall and knuckles skimming over the smooth, fresh scar cutting across Barnaby’s belly. 

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Barnaby says, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He squeezes Howdy’s shoulder and then his back is turned, and he’s leaving. All Howdy can do is watch. 

And call out after him, “Your table will be open and waiting for you.”

Barnaby pauses in the doorway and looks over his shoulder at Howdy, and his grin is so full of affection that Howdy may just burst. 

“With a free pint?” he asks.

“Hey now, don’t push your luck pal.”

Barnaby bursts out laughing, and Howdy can hear it even after the door thuds closed.

[dvasva]

Tbh? I think the radiant emperor duology deserves more critique than it gets in its tag, so after stewing it over for a couple weeks and also discussing it with my friend, I have decided to do it myself.

So. Spoilers for She Who Became the Sun and He Who Drowned The World ahead.

First off, so nobody accuses me of hating the series, I liked the series. I'd say I'd give the first book a 4.5/5, I thoroughly enjoyed it, and I like both books. I truthfully skipped the fisting scene, it triggered some dysphoria that I wasn't comfortable with personally but I don't have problem with it existing in the book, it's good where it is, no changes.

No, my critiques come mostly from the second book, hwdts. Which sucks because I absolutely loved Baoxiang in it, it's a well known fact that my ideal type is pretty, really mean, characters. ('What about Madam Zhang?!!!???!? Shes mean and pretty!!' I hear you ask. Give it a second cause i will get to my beloved madam zhang) So, my critiques are mostly organized as 'The first part I didn't like in Hwdtw that signals the thing that became my biggest issue, the bits in the middle that i did like along with the bits that I felt didn't really work well, and Act 3 which is where my issues really were exacerbated.'

By the end of book one, I had a general annoyance but acceptance that Ma Xiuying was a bit of a weak character, and not weak as in 'dang shes a woman and cant fight' or any other sexist way you may interpret that, but weak as in structurally, she didn't really have as much depth as other characters. I thought she didn't have as much time put into her character as others. And yeah you could have a million character analysis essays over Ma and her place in the story and etc, but for me, her setup for the next book as potentially having conflict with Zhu or her own morals was the most interesting part of Ma. In general I think a lot of people tend to overlook this flaw partly because Ma is a cis lesbian character and the main 'love interest' in a book that is usually marketed to people as sapphic, which yeah there is certainly a sapphic relationship in the book but I think saying it's a major part of the book is really giving the relationship a load bearing wall ot isn't strong enough to carry. The Radiant Emperor Duology is not a romance, first and foremost. To describe it as a wlw romance is gonna leave people who read ot specifically for that reason kinda dissappointed by the end of book 2.

My big critiques didn't start until book two, and a particular scene, though. Ma, at the start of book two, was generally filling the niche of 'nagging wife' to zhu, which yknow, is a fine place to start from. I was a little disappointed there was no further discussion of Ma's disapproval of the morality of Zhu's actions, and in fact the dead child was pretty much entirely forgotten by Ma in favor of being Zhu's wife. Which, yknow, sure.

The Scene I had issue with happened (Spoilers once again) after Zhu finally captures Ouyang and imprisons him at her base of operations. Ma, dressed in her empressly regalia enters his room with the intention of being the bigger person. She walks in, looks at the stripped down and humiliated general who killed her father and famously is also really a women hater, and tells him she forgives him for killing her father. And then she gets upset and cries when the prideful general who hates women gives her a dressing down and taunts her and is like 'I'm glad I killed your father'? She nearly cries because Ouyang was mean to her (notably only cause he was mean to her and didn't gracefully accept her forgiveness, not because he killed ehr father) and runs off to Zhu. And Zhu responds with 'Wow, he's just a weirdo, everyone likes you and everyone in existance immediately knows you're a good person and you change people.' Which, my friend suggested before she finished the book, was a case of Zhu placating Ma and dismissing her feelings which would be an interesting dynamic.

Really my hangups with this scene come from multiple parts.

1. Ma' few character traits including being observant and reading people really well (a thing she's praised for in book 1) and having good social intuition are completely thrown out by her thinking being alone with ouyang and forgiving him would be a good idea and then her being shocked and upset when he spat on her forgiveness. And

2. Zhu's response is never once treated by the text as her dismissing Ma and placating her, and Zhu's statement despite never being shown to be true before and that moment being the first time it's ever mentioned, ends up becoming Chekov's moral purity by the end of the book, where the plot hinges on Ma being able to magically heal a damaged character's mind enough for Zhu to win in the end. Which I will get back to. There's a lot of other stuff happening between here and the end.

So, before I get back to Ma and her role in the story, I'll address some other bits from after this scene. Both problems and things I enjoyed generally.

Madam Zhang and her parallels to Baoxiang and her being the absolute queen of dissociating really was interesting (before act 3). She was a very compelling character who I completely understood and felt positively about. She had a way more interesting relationship with gender imo than Ma did, especially in book 2. I didn't really like that she was overwhelmingly shown having sexual villence done to her, that felt weirdly like a punishment. But, I did like her a whole bunch, and I liked the look we got into her head. She was probably my second, maybe third, favorite character in the whole book until Act 3.

I really, really liked Ouyangs dynamic and relationship with Zhu. The weird sexual tension between them, their weird kinda nonsexual but also kinda very sexual S&M relationship. It was somehow the most sensual, sexual part of a book that featured Madam Zhang having sex with multiple people, and Zhu going down on Ma, and a lot of other mentions of sex or scenes involving sex. Tbh I feel like, in a way, Ma was left to the sidelines for most of the book because Ouyang became the primary 'love' interest for a hot second there and the only reason Ma could get her spot back was Ouyang and Zbu's separation. Also, from what I've seen when people talk about this book, they always kinda try to express Zhu and Ouyang's dynamic as very nonsexual and nonromantic, as platonic mostly. And there is no inherent superiority of romantic over platonic, but I think to insist that it is only platonic, and not a strange swirl of romantic, platonic, sexual, frustration and relief, and a swirl of familiarity and vulnerability all wrapped into one, is doing the dynamic a bit of a disservice. And ther is, imo, very clearly a subtle hint of romantic intent and interest on Ouyang's part before he realizes Zhu has a body he hates.

Which is also another point I didn't like. Ouyang and Zhu's relationship end felt off. The entire bit with the pirates felt off, but especially how Ouyang found out about Zbu's body, and how Zhu reacted. I think Ouyang finding out second hand, from a combination of being suspicious and from Jiang saying it, was a poor way for that to be revealed. I think there was a better way for that to happen that woyld have felt more like a betrayl to zhu than this did. The fact that Zhu and Ouyang were so in tune and could see each other perfectly, but this one thing was a blind spot for both of them because of how unaffected by gender Zhu was compared to how overaffected by gender Ouyang was is a really interesting thing to explore, an interesting disconnect between two character's whose entire basis for their relationship is 'like recognizes like'. I think Zhu seeing it as a betrayl would have been more impactful if she had presented this informatuon to Ouyang herself and been rejected than how it went down. And, I think her not realizing Ouyang would be disgusted that he felt connected and felt a sameness to someone with a body he found grotesque and that he feared would have been more interesting for zhu, who views herself outside of womanhood and didnt really think that other people would not see her outside of womanhood, if she was the one who told ouyang herself.

Also, less importantly, think going into Ouyangs annoyance that zhu kept moving his target further away was a good move but it wasn't expanded on as much for my taste. I also really liked it when (spoiler) Xu Da dies, and that entire part despite some minir bits, was extremely good in that Zhu finally has tasted loss. She had, up until that point, been riding a wave of positivity, she was the underdog who won over and over again despite all the odds and despite her own reckless choices. So I did appreciate that everything went wrong for her at least once. that would have been, imo if other things were changed, a good place to end a book two in a three book series. Which will make sense as to why I mention it im a bit.

I also didn't like how Ma was nonexistant unless the plot was like 'ok we need to remind people that Ma exists.'

And there's of course other stuff but those are the main points of acts 1 and 2 that i wasn't fond of or that i liked.

Act 3 is a wholely different behemoth which can be encapsulated with 'I wish it was longer but also different' (courtesy of the convo my friend and I had).

My friend and I both agreed that we liked this kind of courtly drama game it was playing. My friend doesn't tend to like the structure or writing style of a lot of the chinese wuxia, danmei, or courtly drama translated books i read, so it was nice to know that the genre content isn't the issue for her there.

The biggest problems I had with the ending though was 1. I think Baoxiang and Ma had an interesting dynamic despite it being really rushed and how distasteful I found the entire concept of Ma being such a good wholesome goody good good person that she could change Baoxiang, quiet his demons and fix him in some way. That was annoying in an otherwise interesting dynamic. And 2. I think Madam Zhang's character traits and cleverness and all that were wiped away to make her inexplicably jealous of Ma in a way that I don't think fit her character and just served to fit a trope of jealous empress who hates the favored concubine.

So, here's my major proposed changes.

1. Ma gets sent to Khanbaliq extremely early on. Like, act one maybe after ouyang is captured early. This serves three purposes. A. Ma has something to do and is more present in the story. this could be a good xhance to let her actually feel frustrated or upset at Zhu in some tangible way that needs to be resolved or talked thru eventually. B. she gets more time to build a relationship with Baoxiang, whose entire defeat hinges on him having a strong connection with her. and C. Her absence in the other parts of the book feel less like she's being ignored or forgotten. It makes Zhu's lack of haste more than just a way to annoy Ouyang, and turns it into an interesting moral choice. Should she rush to Khanbaliq to save Ma or trust that Ma will be ok in favor of gaining power? Her lack of haste means Ouyang leaves, depressed, and she loses Xu Da, all while she doesn't even have the assurance that Ma is ok, she is truly at her lowest point with nobody with her. If Ma is in Khanbaliq and that's explored, then Zhu and Ouyang can also explore their dynamic without Ma feeling a bit like she is battling for Zhu's attention.

2. Madam Zhang is suspicious of Ma, or feels actually tangibly threatened by Ma. In act 3, Madam Zhang's anger towards Ma feels really out of place. She got exactly what she wants, she is empress, her emperor isn't interested in removing her from her position and her position isn't threatened by anyone. Baoxiang won't get rid of her, he won't demote her, he has shown zero sign of ever even considering it. So, why is Madam Zhang jealous of Ma? Imo, especially since she very clearly has dissociated into oblivion and has no love or affection for anyone anymore, and no real desire or motivation to secure her position further aside from maybe producing an heir to make sure shes taken care of after Baoxiang dies, there's no reason for her to be inextricably jealous of Ma. It kinda just erases all of Madam Zhang's political savvy and cunning into jealous, petty woman, and that sucks. If she was suspicious of Ma's intention, or Baoxiang genuinely expressed spmething that actively threatened her position, her hatred of Ma would make sense, but instead she hates Ma cause Ma is ugly and spends every night with Baoxiang. She hated rice buckets concubine cause that concubine used a lot of funds and competition genuinely made her position less stable. She needs better motivation for hating Ma.

3. As I mentioned earlier, Zhu needs to be the one to tell Ouyang that she does not have a dick. That's just all around better, it feels more like a betrayl to bare your secrets and be rejected, etc etc.

4. The duology should have been a trilogy, with book 3 starting when Zhu is at her lowest, ouyang is dead, ma is in khanbaliq, Xu Da is dead, a new guy is the emperor. This is where a book three should have started. in a series that has so many important characters, i feel like it needs more space. she's in a 10 gallon tank when really she needs a 30 gallon tank. Lots of it, especially towards the end of book 2, felt rushed and the extra book will absolutely push that back a bit and make it less rushed.

Anyways that's my critique of The Radiant emperor duology. Once Again, I liked the series, its one of my favorites i've read all year. I don't dislike it, and having a critique or opinion about something doesnt mean I didn't like the book or understand the book (because obviously if i understood it i would understand why its flawless). I liked it, there are things I wish were different, that's it.

[coffinsister]

It is officially tcoaal's birthday today

This game has actually become so important to me it came out at a time where I was deeply miserable and lonely all the time

And now I get to look back and see how much my situation has actually improved and a lot of it can be traced back to the friends and the art I made thanks to this game

Good incest game go vroom

Maybe I will try to finish colouring something or upload a fic to celebrate the occasion

[fala-alfredo-pasta]

One of the most weirdest things to me about the fandom is the idea that Nagito would be extra-warm towards Hajime upon waking up, due to Hajime retaining all of Kamukura's talents. To me I think it would be the total opposite. I think there'd actually be a lot of angst deriving from just how alienated Nagito feels around this Hajime, who's not quite the same person he fell in love with anymore. Taking into account what 2.5 implies about his true feelings about talent (that deep down he's always resented what talent has done to the world and his life), I think it could be especially aggravating if Hajime tried to act as if there's no power imbalance between the two.

"...Stop pretending like I'm still your equal. I'm a talentless freak with a brain that's falling to bits, and I'll be gone in a few years. You're the most talented ingenious human being on Earth, and you've probably got a life expectancy of like 250. You don't get to reap all the benefits of being the Ultimate Hope, and then act like you're still an average joe just because you had some profound revelation in a computer world about how okay it is being talentless."

Yeah I feel that. Though it's understandable fandom would run with the "Talent-sexual" Nagito joke given how much he fawns over those with talent and to then apply the logic to "the more talents = the more Nagito will like you". The moment in the anime when he's overwhelmed with adoration simply being in Izuru's presence for the first time also doesn't quite help in this regard, though pretty sure that was put in there more so for fanservice and comic relief.

Funnily enough, as you mentioned, the anime also brought into question how much sincerity Nagito's love for talent truly is. So then it makes you think--if Nagito actually resents talent, then applying the earlier logic: wouldn't the more talents = the more Nagito resents you? Both things are somewhat of a flawed logic, but it's interesting to explore that side of Nagito because it really paints a picture of how deeply entrenched his delusion with hope and talent are. How many layers of denial and repression do you have to be in order to act so sincerely and consistently with your fake ideal that talent=hope and the Ultimates are destined to bring forth that hope? To the point that you circled back around and gaslight yourself into believing it to be a fundamental truth?

At what point did that resentment arise? Did it grow alongside his admiration for talent? Every time he felt his resentment towards talent did he push it back down with positive thoughts of talent instead to try to "look on the brightside/find the silver lining"? Did it get to the point that his resentment was so incredible that he had to think talent positive thoughts 24/7 just to keep it at bay? Is he doing this because otherwise all he'll have left will be hatred, despair, and a bleak view of the world being cruel and unfair? And he'll constantly be wondering why some are blessed with advantage and prodigy while others are seemingly born to suffer and stay stagnant despite their best efforts? Why does the world continue to favor some and crush everyone else? What has everyone done to deserve the life they have?

Honestly, this just further proves that Nagito's obsession with hope and talent are his last ditch attempts at giving himself purpose in a world cursing his existence. Ironically, this unhealthy coping mechanism is the better of two mindsets he chose to follow. Really goes to show that Nagito, despite everything he says, has not given up on himself if he's trying THIS damn hard to keep up the facade and have a reason to keep going everyday. And this is the reason why that OVA is my favorite episode from all the anime as that one line adds so much more nuance to Nagito's already complicated ideology.

Sorry, I sorta derailed things to ramble about Nagito but what did you expect from a Nagito simp after all? He's been rotting my brain for over four years now. But to come back on topic, this post-game Nagito with his looser chokehold on hope and talent would most likely have to contend once again with that resentment, but now with a weaker shield. As such, I do think he'd have mixed feelings about Izuru/Hajime. Part of him would probably sympathize with Hajime's pain from the surgery and the fact that he'll never quite be only Hajime anymore. Izuru is and will always be there. Learning to live with the permanent changes to his body and mind is something Nagito knows intimately--way before he became a remnant. That being said, well....Hajime did get the best case scenario for his outcome. Even some of his emotions returned despite the physical improbability of it happening. And yeah--he gets to keep all those useful talents now too. He's also in better physical health than most of their other classmates and his real name isn't inherently associated with Ultimate Despair. He could go back into society looking the way he does with his legal name and no one would even know he was ever involved with Hope's Peak.

So yeah, that sympathy Nagito has would not be enough to squash down his resentment. I can't imagine him fawning over Hajime post-game given everything that's happened and especially after finding out how Izuru was created (as I talked about in a previous ask). There will definitely be an adjustment period where in Nagito may even be passively hostile towards Hajime. But I think a part of Nagito--the part that white knuckled that silver lining for talent---would try its best to look past that and accept Hajime as a sincere friend. It's just going to take a while for him to get there. But he'll try. Doesn't mean he won't be a snarky passive aggressive guy through out it though. I do think he'll be more blunt about his honest feelings towards others whether they like it or not. Talent be (slightly) damned.

[deoidesign]

Hello I stumbled across your profile and I just say I love your art style! I've gotta ask, how'd your develop it? And do you have any advice for someone who can't decide what they want their art to look like?

Thank you so much!

To be entirely honest, I don't feel like I truly "developed" my style. I feel a lot more like I finally let myself draw it! But I am incredibly deliberate with my work, and I do have clear tendencies and preferences... So I'll do my best to explain how I got to where I am now as an artist.

It's important to remember that "style" is something of a nebulous concept. It changes with you as you grow as a person, and most artists can work in and emulate many art styles! Art really is a form of communication with yourself, and your "style" is a reflection of the tendencies and preferences you have. My art does not look how it looked 5 years ago, and my art will look different 5 years from now too. I've changed, and my art reflects that!

(2012, 2018, 2023; two pieces I remember being incredibly proud of and considered my best work up til that point, and then my most recent piece)

What you need to do, as everyone will tell you, is study the fundamentals (anatomy, perspective, form and structure, lighting and shadow, color, and composition) so you have the proper tools to make the most informed decisions possible about your art, and so you can deliberately break or follow rules as you please for your desired effect. I know it sounds silly to learn rules if you're not gonna be following them anyways, but they help you be much more consistent and intentional! More knowledge is NEVER a bad thing to have!

However, I know it's a bit demoralizing to just be told to study fundamentals. Everyone knows you're supposed to do that, but it takes YEARS to learn, and people want their art to feel how they want it to now (which is very very very normal to want!)

So on that front, I have 2 follow up suggestions that I personally find helpful (of course, everyone is different, so it's not like this is the only way to learn! But, if it resonates with you, it might mean it will work for you too.)

1: Separate study from application

I believe this is beneficial for a few reasons:

If the goal of every piece is learning, it can become frustrating, overwhelming, and boring

It's harder to self critique when there are multiple variables to investigate. I like to study one fundamental at a time

Study (usually) works best with a large quantity of output, whereas application of knowledge (finished pieces) is often more satisfying and effective when you get to take your time

Deliberate practical application of what you've learned in a finished piece helps cement the learning in your mind, and also lets you get satisfying finished pieces with noticeable improvement after a good study session!

I've found that keeping these things separate helps me improve faster and more deliberately, and it takes a lot of the pressure off of both aspects! I'm not worried about my studies looking beautiful, they're just to learn! And I don't feel pressured to critique my finished pieces, cause they're just for fun and to make something pretty. I personally find this helps me have a much healthier relationship with my art.

When studying, copy! Copy things as best as you can, all the time. It gives you something to compare to for self critique (and of course, if you're copying someone else's work and you share the study, ALWAYS give credit, share the original, and say it was for study.) In application, don't copy: reference. Make it yours!

2: Let yourself do the things that feel "easy" or like "cheating"

This one is simpler: nothing in art is easy.

If something feels easy to you, most of the time it's not because it's actually any easier... It's because it's part of your natural tendencies and preferences! This took me forever to realize, but as long as you're actually doing some study, then you're learning. You don't need to learn All The Time. When you're doing the "application" portion, you should let yourself do whatever is actually the most fun and feels easiest! This is where your style will start to come through, and where you get to learn about yourself. Take the pressure off, and have fun!!!

The only cheating in art is theft. If you're not stealing, then it's allowed!

My whole life (and yes, still!) I'd get regular criticism about both my style and my subject matter. You will too. You'll see a thousand different styles, and a hundred different things to admire in each. Your heart will ache that you don't draw like others do.

But art is a form of communication with yourself. It's like your voice, or your accent; just something that's a part of you! It can be fun to mimic others', but when you sit to have a conversation you speak naturally. (I know some people want to and do change their voice, but this is a metaphor and metaphors aren't perfect)

Don't stress so much about what you want your art to look like, especially if you're not sure. There's a lot of value to be had in constant experimentation, I think it'd be rather boring to only draw one style the rest of my life. What I draw is what I want to see, right now, for who I am now! It's a part of me and comes naturally, if I let it!

I hope this helps!

[keeps-ache]

i think i'm starting to really like writing again :D this will have consequences

[skitskatdacat63]

And here is the bull himself >:)

+ lore notes

I was like, ah I should make the shadow something interesting, and then I'm like GIVE HIM BULL HORNS???? OKAY SURE !!!!! I'm glad such thoughts can strike at 7 in the morning....thanks brain. But hehehe I'm glad bcs now this matches up super well with the Nando one!

New ship dynamic: who's the bull and who's the matador :)

I think, in this AU, Fernando is generally pretty fond of Seb when he first meets him. Like "ah yes my very own protégé, very nice, I shall mold him in my image." But then Seb starts veering off that course. Bullfighting is all about being dramatic, but Seb maybe has a bit too much(🤏) flair for the dramatic. This escalation starts while he's still Fernando's assistant but he keeps it generally at bay. But god when he becomes a matador himself, he's just off the rails insane.

Bullfighting, to me, is a sport about reckless endangerment of one's self in the pursuit of drama and performance(its literally described as a tragedy in three acts.) But Fernando thinks Seb endangers himself *too* much, not because he cares or anything, but he's making a mockery of the sport!! Especially when Seb starts doing that bull hand symbol(seen above), Fernando just keeps become more enraged with him, not anything to do with the fact that Seb is threatening his records and threatening his own wellbeing, nah of course not.

Seb's gesture is making a mockery of the sport, he's disrespecting the culture, the very nature of it, blah blah blah. Jenson once asks Fernando, after noticing him seething while watching Seb do his gesture, "Which bull are you really trying to defeat?" One could also describe Fernando and Seb's relationship as a "tragedy with three acts."

Anyways Fernando gets very tied up with this rivalry. Even after suffering a severe injury(I have yet to decide, but y'know mchonda electrocution core), he quickly returns to the sport, loath to let Seb get any more headway. And then Seb gets injured, poor little sweet Seb, and neither of them can handle it. Though I already covered this in my prev lore post 🤭 and I think I put it pretty viscerally there so!! I digress.

They're both matadors, but the bull itself is not the only bull Fernando wants to conquer. Conquer as in death? Hm.

[13thspectre]

Long ass ramble on Mariner and Boimler and their relationship

I think the first step in why Mariner comes to care for her purple dork is the fact that he surprised her. These two idiots knew each other for about a year by the first episode, had probably been around each other a lot being bunk mates, so Mariner probably had a confident idea of who Boimler was deep down. She saw him as a product of propaganda and social engineering. The kind of guy who would sell her and a ship of refugees out for a superior's nod of approval. Someone who saw rank as the end all be all of what Starfleet had to offer.

So, when he ends up not ratting her out on that first episode, I think that may be one of the first times since she'd become more cynical towards Starfleet that Mariner had gotten someone wrong, that they proved them to be a little bit better in her book. So from there, she becomes attached, thinking there's hope for this bootlicker. Maybe, if he turned out to be better than she pegged him for, he could be trusted. Maybe this organization where she's been listlessly dragging herself up and down the ranks in some kind of administrative limbo can really do good. And some part of her that's been questioning if she belongs here at all, doesn't even believe she could really belong on her own mom's ship, thinks that maybe she's found somewhere and someone with whom she does belong.

Boimler's side of things is... very similar. Mariner surprises him. Constantly surprises him. She breaks protocol, disregards authority, spits in the face of the Prime Directive. She's an ensign, same as Boimler himself, but Mariner is easily one of the most frustratingly amazing and impressive people he's ever met, having stories rivaling many starfleet legends, and having the skills and contacts to back them up. And she shows him that she's not just some tantruming rebel, she actually does care, wants and is willing to go the extra mile to help. To do the kind of things that Starfleet often professes to do, but so often just never gets around to.

Mariner challenges everything that Boimler thought was concrete: the infallibility of starfleet, the concrete importance of established protocol, the belief that the achievement of rank is the most certain sign of purpose and importance. She is everything he wants to be and not. She is sociable, likable, able, strong, witty, quick on her feet, and yet she also possesses none of the bigger-picture ambition to do something widespread and worthwhile with her ability. Mariner lacks some of the sensitivity and cautiousness that comes with avoiding unnecessary disaster, and the desire to achieve a higher rank to actually combat the shortfalls of Starfleet she complains so much about.

It's in that mutual challenge that their mutual importance is found: they're each other's anchor. Mariner anchors Boimler so he doesn't get swept up in monotonous idealism, and Boimler anchors Mariner so she doesn't wash away in listless despair.

And I think that's why Mariner is so angered by Boimler's leaving for Titan. It's why despite professing some kind of cool when it comes to dealing with disappointment, she is so stuck up on him that she leaves him dozens of angry messages, demanding an explanation. Why, months after he left and no chance of him returning, she still keeps onto the idea that he's still there or will be back, like keeping spaces for him in the showers. Because it wasn't just that he betrayed her, and right after professing friendship. It's that him leaving her, and so coldly, implies that she was right about him from the beginning. Boimler leaving for the Titan proved her instincts right, that other people, especially those in starfleet, couldn't be trusted. To do what really matters. You couldn't trust others to not hurt you if you trust yourself to them.

Boimler, I think, does not realize he's lost his anchor. He doesn't realize it for a while. On the Titan, trying to survive every batshit crazy operation Riker sets them on takes precedence. When he isn't screaming his lungs out in a wordless prayer to the cosmic koala for survival, he's trying to reconcile what he thought he joined Starfleet for and what he actually wants to do. Boimler isn't in this for the missions, or even the glory (mostly, he still likes to brag a bit, I mean who wouldn't). Boimler wants to be an explorer and a diplomat. Someone who wants to learn what there is to know about this insane deadly universe they're somehow prospering in (he's someone excited for anomaly consolidation duty, and sometimes has a close to encyclopedic knowledge of the things they're dealing with, like Tendi and the cube). He wants to find and learn about other cultures, wants to find and learn how to make new friends (even if his execution on that last bit is clunky and awkward at best, at least for now).

Boimler realizing how important Mariner is to him doesn't come until 2x5, when only he is able to get into Starfleet's biggest party with its biggest names. The shouting pulls through, the hurt comes back, and Boimler and Mariner go separate ways again. But when Boimler finally has his dream of rubbung elbows with the top brass, he sees the party differently. Maybe a little more like Mariner would. Boimler doesn't see people schmoozing and networking. He just sees a party, full of people enjoying the company of those they trust and love. This is where Boimler realizes some of the true weight of his leaving, and just how much it affected him in turn, not having his anchor with him.

Now I'll be honest here in that I haven't really watched much TOS, so I'm missing some of the full gravity of the comparison betwen Kirk and Spock and Mariner and Beckett. What I do know is that they were combative but also complimentary, one was the charismatic daredevil that flounced the rules, and the other was more by the book and research-oriented, though the LD dynamic duo I guess has much more in the way of neuroticism and personal dysfunction. I know I'm doing a bad job of distilling Spock and Kirk's dynamic, so please let me know if I'm off the mark, or elaborate on how this might fit into my little spiel. But the point is that here is when both realize how important they are to each other. Seeing those names carved into the counter of a bar, following perhaps a similar story of how Kirk and Spock ended up there, Mariner and Boimler now realize that they can come back from this. They have the potential to do great things together, but more importantly, they just want to be in each others' lives again.

When they get stranded, there's once again the issue of trust. Mariner still clings to that idea that she is the mentor and better of Boimler, and so she has to look out for him, whether or not he realizes or wants it. She doesn't trust hum to do well on his own or to make the best decisions. At the same time, we see Boimler stepping up a bit. He takes the douche-bot AI with them against Mariner's idea to just bury it (at first) to keep monitoring AGIMUS, he tries to climb the tree to get fruit himself because Mariner is injured, and even just shuts Mariner down a bit when she's anguished that that shithole planet's fruit somehow also tasted like black licorice. We see hints of Boimler being a bit more confident, a bit more capable and sure of himself, without empty pride being the only thing in his arsenal. And when it seems like Mariner was right all along and Boimler fell for some manipulation, it's revealed that he was playing AGIMUS, playing both of them like a fiddle. Boimler had a plan, executed it flawlessly, apologizes to Mariner for deceiving her, and gets them rescued. Now, both of them still know Mariner is far and away the more capable of the two in most areas, but Mariner now doesn't see Boimler as some hapless naive child. She'd still go out of her way to save his butt, but not because he's her self-proclaimed responsibility, rather because he's her friend.

In 3x1, Mariner is depressed and angry. Her mother's in custody, in a public trial, and she can't do anything, except apparently trust the system. Despite empty assurances from her father, Mariner is unable to find hope for her mother. So she goes to her anchor, Boimler, to try and find hope where none exists. And here, we see the growth of their bond. Even stuck planetside, they find each other. They're anchors, in a sense. Through Boimler, Mariner is able to find some kind of hope thst she can save her mom. Through Marjner, Boimler finds a new purpose so doesn't waste away at his family's vineyard. Hell, Boimler is so ride or die at this point that he helps Mariner steal a fucking amusement park starship and board a locked down Cerritos!

During the season two finale when Mariner is about to go down in cetacean ops to release the final panel, Rutherford, Tendi, and Boimler all talk sense into Mariner, convincing her to make up with her mom before they all die or never see Captain Freeman again in what I think is a very satisfying intervention. But something I want to point out is what Boimler tells Mariner. Boimler says they'll all either die soon, or Mariner's mom will get promoted and the two may never speak again, and he asks Mariner if this is how she wants things to end. It makes me think that Boimler's talking about when he left. He left without clearing the air, without saying goodbye, without anything. He knows in retrospec how painful that actually was, how much it hurt both of them to never really try and reconcile things until the party, and he doesn't want Mariner to go through that again with her mom.

In 3x5, Boimler tries his best to keep Mariner calm and out of trouble, but he loses it, throttling conspiracy weirdos' necks like Mariner would, despite attempts by Mariner to try and calm him down. And while that is fun, something that really catches my attention is how once people start coming to their tent in genuine interest, impressed by Boimler's confidence and defense of Starfleet, Mariner actually seems genuinely interested in finding ways that people could join Starfleet. It's some kind of inversion of their roles, with Boimler being the impressive act of violence that wows everyone, and Mariner being the eager one to bring it all up to protocol.

Crisis Point 2 comes around, and even without knowing what's up, Mariner still tries to stick things through with Boimler for a while, knowing Tendi and Rutherford are off actually having fun on something with Boimler's holomovie, something she had just been teasing him about earlier. She can easily tell that he's going off his own script, but she still goes with him, not yet realizing that she's watching her friend go through an existential spiral. When she does learn about William's death, Mariner immediately goes to Boimler to be his friend. She tells him that the story may not be a good one, but it is a Starfleet story, so it's worth telling, and so they should try to find the ending they're after. This brings up two ideas: one is that Mariner hopes the holodeck can provide the same kind of therapeutic realization it gave her. The other is that she's telling Boimler that his story, irrevocably a Starfleet story, may not be glamorous or exciting the way others' are or the way he wanted it to be, but it's still important.

When Mariner leaves, things apparently get a little weird. By Rutherford's own admission, Boimler loses grasp of reality without Mariner around. He's lost his anchor, and he's a bit adrift. For Mariner, things are going well. It's honestly a bit like the Titan all over again, with Mariner having her own adventures. But something still feels off. She tries to find reason to distrust Petra and this new purpose, but it's just Mariner trying to find a reason to return. Back to Starfleet, back to the Cerritos, back to her friends and family, back to her mom, back to her anchor. In saving the Cerritos, Mariner brings back every California-class ship. In one act, she demonstrates her faith and trust in Starfleet, or at least the people in it. She finds the others that had been given up on and gives them another chance. Similar I think to the way Boimler did for her in not reporting her that first episode, and again when she welcomed him back to the ship. When she comes back on board, the first thing she does is rush and hug Boimler, finding her anchor. And what Boimler does is own up to his own lack of trust and action, apologizes, and promises to make up for it. Afterward, Mariner changes direction and wants to try her hand at making her way in Starfleet again, finding hope in her purpose in the same way she did when Boimler first decided to trust her.

*edited a bunch of typos and some weird wording

[eddiemunsonsmum]

Just saw this comment on a story posted a month ago.

*cries in Eddie Munson Solo Series no one wanted to read, interact with or request for*

No shade to the person that commented this on their own fic if you recognize it. It's not their fault. I'm not mad at them. More crying in the tags.