#its all so raw

[solsilverpine]

Absolutely gorgeous my love ❤️

I will continue to craft you worlds with words and stories for as long as you draw, for longer 🧡💜

Even if the amount we inspire each other constantly makes our projects way bigger than they're supposed to be 🤭

@solsilverpine made fic to go with my romance covers!!!!!!

so i made more!!!! ahhhhhhh!!!!!!!

[goryhorroor]

horror sub-genres: cannibal

[abusivelittlebunny]

carlando or carcar 👀

Both but in the most toxic way possible ♡

(Carcar for the win though)

[secriden]

Style in episode 4 made me soft in a way that I truly did not expect. I’ve used the word “guileless” (def: innocent and without deception) before to describe him but I don't think that has been shown more clearly then in this episode.

He tries to be manipulative and lasts for all of one single morning and then comes running to Fadel the second he hears about Fadel asking about him. He's so excited, so exuberant at the thought that Fadel misses him, so happy that his little (terribly obvious and juvenile) plan worked.

Which is why I think he was genuinely taken aback when Fadel only had harsh words for him as a reply (this is not a criticism of Fadel; in this he has been consistent. Doesn't mean they weren't hurtful though). Look at the way Style's grin slowly dies. Watch the way he straightens and backs away a bit, like he wasn't expecting the clawed swipe of Fadel's dismissal.

But Style is resilient. He's tenacious. We see him rally and steel himself to resume his pursuit: because Style is nothing if not determined to hold on to the thinnest thread of hope that he's breaking through Fadel's shell. And can I just take a moment to get emotional about Style offering forgiveness even when Fadel hasn't asked for it?

This, though. I do think this was uncalled for (this is a criticism of Fadel). You can make the argument that Fadel has tried honesty and blunt rejection and it hasn't worked, but I would have respected Fadel more if he'd stuck to his guns and kept rejecting Style in the same manner. Especially when everything else about his character shows he's actually very up front and direct. With Bison, with Kant, hell even with himself.

Fadel is mocking Style's clear and wanton desire for him. Look at the sardonic little grin Fadel gets right before he says, "You won't ever get what you want." Consider the way he was touching Style with that gentle, focused intensity; how he cuts up his shirt and tears it open and leans in close in a way that suggests purposefulness while having zero intention of seeing it through. Fadel knew what he was doing and he did it on purpose, to hurt.

And you can see that Style is genuinely hurt here. I think he has always been prepared for Fadel's rejection, but not his cruelty. Not Fadel making sport of him and his very real emotions and desires. Because Fadel has been rude and condescending before, but he's never been contemptuous like he is here.

And I wonder, partly, if this is because both times we see Style and his dad, his dad is scolding/chiding/correcting him to some extent. Perhaps that's just how they interact. Or perhaps, as implied by the way Style sarcastically said "Thanks, dad" as Fadel drives away in episode 1, Style doesn't enjoy the way his father scolds him and always has criticisms or corrections for him. Perhaps Style just wants to be accepted for who he is, especially by the man he is starting to have real feelings for.

Edit (after Ep 5): I'm so sorry, Papa Style, I did you so wrong. ;u;

@lazzarella made a post recently about Dunk's phenomenal acting in this scene (among others) and I concur so hard about how intense and scorching and "both fiery and steely" Style's anger feels in this scene. He's furious and wounded and you can see it in his gaze, the tension in his jaw, the way he bares his teeth up at Fadel when he says "...punch me in the face? Go on!"

And honestly, he is justified. Fadel's incredulity has no basis here: he stooped back to using public humiliation, something which Style very pointedly has not engaged with since his conversation with Bison in episode 2. Every instance of approaching Fadel since then has clearly been aimed to involve himself in Fadel's private life*.

*Yes even or maybe especially the support group in episode 3. Because while Style may have been treating the whole thing too lightly, all of it is directed privately to Fadel with his secret looks and winks. As far as the other support group members are concerned, Style was a somewhat overdramatic new member that had no connection to Fadel.

But what Fadel did by cutting up his shirt and sending him out in shame regressed them back to their early dynamic, which was far more antagonistic.

This is why Style lashes out at the support group again. Look at the anger simmering in his eyes. The way he makes direct, insistent eye contact with Fadel as he speaks, returning again when he talks about feeling used. Style, overall, is a character that doesn't take anything too seriously so it's almost shocking to see him this visibly angry and so pointedly challenging Fadel in a space where Fadel cannot easily brush him off.

But even now, even in all his rage and hurt, Style is true to himself and his heart. He doesn't want revenge or an apology, he wants Fadel to acknowledge that the thing between them, fragile as it is, matters; that what they did meant something to the both of them.

And this is why I was so broken about Style offering forgiveness without Fadel asking for it earlier: because all it took was Fadel admitting that he missed Style for him to unreservedly offer reassurance and safety for Fadel's heart. There is nothing ambiguous about what Style says at the jeep: he makes his own intentions clear by offering certainty, taking responsibility, promising the very commitment he was asking Fadel for.

He makes himself vulnerable to and for the man who literally just mocked and humiliated him that morning. Style really just let all his anger go immediately like that.

And no, I don't think he was doing all that for the car. This is just how Style talks. He has a flair for the dramatic, and this was the perfect way to reveal his news to Kant. But look at how delighted, how filled with boyish glee he is while he tells Kant the news about Fadel agreeing to be his boyfriend. Consider the way he reacted in the moment: the joy in his voice and the wonder in his eyes when he said "Really? We're dating now?", the way he covers Fadel's cheeks in a hundred butterfly kisses.

Also, a thought that occurred to me - could this be Style's first relationship? We know from episode 1 that he sleeps around, but there's seemingly no mention of a previous serious/committed relationship so far. His dad seems surprised to hear Style is seriously pursing someone. Could Fadel be the first person to capture his interest for long enough that Style developed actual feelings?

Which is also why his fear is now so visceral. He is genuinely terrified of Fadel, but I don't think it's just because he's realised how dangerous Fadel is (after all, he's known that to some extent since he watched Fadel break a man's arm with his thighs). No, his fear stems from the fact that Fadel now has reason to hurt Style.

In the face of the betrayal of his own trust, Style answers Kant's plea to friendship and entangles himself with Kant's lie willingly... and thereby forfeits all rights to the safety he was so confident of in the middle of the woods by an abandoned factory. Because now Style knows that if Kant gets found out, it won't matter that Style didn't intentionally mislead and take advantage of Fadel's vulnerability in the forest. Because he still chose Kant over Fadel here, and that makes him undeserving of the open door he asked Fadel to give him.

Style is incredibly transparent in all his thoughts and emotions and this is why I say that Style is guileless: he is incapable of true deception. His heart is too close to the surface, his desires too obvious, his thoughts too clearly broadcasted on his face.

He is the perfect foil; not only to Fadel (who until this episode held everything so buried inside his chest that we only understand his true feelings in snatches of memories or moments when Fadel is certain that he is truely alone) but also Kant (whose deception, whilst cracking under pressure, is intentional and calculated - thinking about that bowling alley accomplice right now - in a way Style never could be).

And this means that any success on his part in the upcoming episode(s) in deceiving Fadel is going to fall on either Fadel's own willful blindness or the suspension of disbelief the genre requires of the viewer -- but it won't be because Style is actually any good at playing the role now that he knows the full truth.

This is why my heart breaks for Style. Because Kant forced a burden on him that he was in no way prepared to bear. And eventually Style will have to choose between his loyalty to Kant and his burgeoning feelings for Fadel and, regardless of his choice, the narrative demands that Style sacrifice a piece of his own heart in the process.

[strongtowerluxuryapartments]

figueroth and sandra lynn faeth; daughter and mother // dimension 20: fantasy high

fantasy high: junior year - a very merry moonar yulenear // lady bird, 2017 // ijeoma umebinyuo - questions for ada // alexuma // wych elm - susan smith // joan tierney - the elektra complex // fantasy high: sophomore year - hellbound // imma_slytherin - fig the unfaithable and the summer sads // nora kasten // honeytuesday // fantasy high: junior year - untapped rage // ethel cain - family tree (intro) // lynn emanuel - single girl. one room flat.

[patchesjam]

Dtblr Census: The Results 

 

Hello all and welcome back to the DTBLR census of 2024/25. Happy Late New Year all! There are 5 parts to these results: Read as much or as little as you wish and thank you all for taking part.

Part 1: Popular and Unpopular CCs

Part 2: A Comparison with June 2023

Part 3: A Look at DTBLR in the Mirror

Part 4 : A communist perspective on the 1%

Part 5: The Average Dtblr Member

[theabigailthorn]

I just read a pilot for a TV show that two incredible people are trying to get made and HOO HOO! OH HOH! I can't tell you who either of them are or what the show is about but DAMN! I hope this gets made! I hope I get to be in it! HAHA, EXCITING! SICK, EVEN!

[myoonmii]

I keep thinking about Merlin’s love for Arthur and how it’s so clearly portrayed in the show to the point that it practically drives the plot of the show. However when it comes to Arthur’s love for Merlin it’s more subtle and sometimes difficult to even grasp, and I started thinking why that was, aside from the obvious fact that Arthur has a lot of trouble expressing his emotions affection or otherwise. I think it also lies in the fact that Merlin knows Arthur intrinsically throughout the show; he is one of the closest people to Arthur, and sees him for who he really is. Arthur admits as much.

Sure, Arthur knows Merlin but the main part of the plot is that he really doesn't know Merlin. Merlin wants him to desperately understand him and “see me for who I am” but he can't yet. And I think this subconsciously creates a barrier in the way in which Arthur can care for Merlin, and how Merlin can let himself be seen by Arthur.

Which is why I think he was also so hurt when the magic reveal happens because more than the betrayal of Merlin having magic, it was the betrayal of Merlin not letting Arthur see him for who he really is and for hiding a main part of himself. Arthur says it himself “why did you never tell me” that’s what hurt him the most.

I think the most damning piece of evidence for this is the fact that while we see snippets of Arthur’s feelings for Merlin thought the show, the biggest signs are in the last episode after the magic reveal; in which he finally gets to understand Merlin, and this time REALLY know Merlin, and as the barriers of what held them back from understanding each other truly fall away, Arthur evidently “falls in love with Merlin all over again”. We see him actually express himself to Merlin.

This is another reason why I think if anyone was ever to create another season of Merlin after Arthur’s return, it’s physically impossible not to make it about Merlin and Arthur acknowledging their feelings for each other. Because there is no way forward without them acknowledging how deeply they care for each other, obviously anyone is free to argue what kind of love that is, but its impossible not to see the deep love there either way.

They always knew they loved each other, just maybe never realising how much and what that means, because its almost second nature to everything that they do.

[eternallovers65]

"It's just a wrestling storyline" and then it's the most addictive, sad, profound, homoerotic crazy shit ever

[08-47]

i saw the terminal glow

okay,, merry late christmas whoops and goodnightt !! ALSO, thank you everybody for the insane reception on the first post!!, and also check out the donations/gfms on my main page for people in palestine/gaza who are in need! i cant donate, so spreading it around's the best i can do to help <3 ! donate if you can n share it around!

[animentality]

I don't know shit about one piece, all I know is that one piece artists will drop the rawest fucking art I have ever seen in my life and then I'll look at how the actual character is designed in the source material, and it's like this

[druidonity2]

wip

[gunsatthaphan]

give them their romcom you cowards 😤

[illmoraineakoi]

Do you guys think that when Dark was dying, he knew it, and became so overwhelmed by the visceral fear of his inevitable incoming death that he started desperately pleading to Alan to somehow come save him?

A forsaken creation, dying and agonized, desperately reaching out to his creator in a last ditch attempt at salvation.

A child, begging for it's parent's help, because they're scared and they don't want to die.

[flowercrowngods]

🤍🌷 @stevesbipanic and @the-winged-doe asked to see ugly unpolished unrefined words, soo—

cw & tags: past major character death, grief, attempted time-travel fix-it(s), eddie&robin besties || potential wip

Eddie takes a long drag of his cigarette, the biting hot smoke hitting the back of his throat and clawing its way into his lungs, going as deep as he allows and leaving a permanent mark that brings neither relief nor calmness tonight. His fingers shake where they’re pressed to his lips, but the rest of him is unmoving where he sits on the front porch of their new trailer. 

It’s quiet out here. It’s always quiet in Hawkins these days, the city a fucking ghosttown. 

And he knows it’s not because of the one they lost. He knows it’s not because of him. But still the emptiness is stark and the silence oppressivem more so than it ever has been. 

Everyone still looks for him, months later. Dustin still begins to speak, cutting himself off mid-sentence, and Robin still stands with enough space to either side, like she expects him to just show up and invade her space like the home he made for himself in there. 

And somewhere among all that is Eddie. With his very own history. Or, non-history, as it turns out. But history and non-history leave wounds alike, and the memories feel just as real. A small mercy, at the end of the day, for them to feel real when they’re all he has left anymore. 

He takes another drag, not quite exhaling before he obliterates the cigarette and fishes for a new one before the butt even hits the ground. 

Fumbling with the lighter in his pocket, he only gets as far as placing the butt between his lips before a hand snakes into his field of vision to snag it from his mouth. 

“Hey,” he complains halfheartedly but makes no attempt at getting it back, watching instead as Robin comes up to sit beside him, grimacing at the stink of tobacco that must be heavy around him. 

“You’re disgusting,” she says with no real heat behind her words.

Eddie shrugs, because yeah, sure. He’s been called worse things. Robin’s called him worse things. This is her being nice. Her complaininig about his incessant smoking is nothing new. What is new is what she does next, placing the cigarette between her own lips and reaching for the light he’s been holding in a loose grip since she arrived. 

She starts coughing immediately, pulling a face at the disgusting feeling of smoke in her lungs and tobacco on her tongue. But she keeps going. Eddie can only watch in surprise and mild horror. 

“These things’ll kill you,” he says then in an echo of her usual sentiment, aware that he sounds as bewildered as he feels. 

“Well,” Robin says, aiming for casual, but quickly interrupted by a wheeze and a cough that’s almost adorable. “Let them try.” 

Eddie huffs, a pale little smile lingering on his lips as he leans back against the stairs behind him, resting his weight on his forearm to watch her. There is something captivating about her. Eddie always wonders what it is, wants to study her forever. 

Maybe it’s only the lingering traces of Everything Steve Harrington that clings to her every breath, her every move, her every fucking cell, with how much he was a part of her and she of him. Maybe it’s their shared grief that has made Eddie fall a bit in love with her and with the way the moonlight catches in her hair and in the smoke wafting from her cigarette. 

But somehow he refuses to believe that all he loves about her is merely the memory of Steve. 

Robin, in turn, is kind enough to let him stare. Kind enough to let him find out what it is between them. If this friendship is more than a misguided projection of grief and mourning and trauma; more than co-dependence and the obsessive will to keep this one person in your life. This one person who understands. 

After a while of Robin just holding the cigarette between her fingers, becuase no matter how strong her will to self destruct, she never quite got it right with the smoking, Eddie snatches it back before it goes to waste completely. As if pulled in by a string attached to his hollowed out chest, Robin leans back and into him in one smooth motion. It’s too calculated, though, and Eddie can feel how much she sags once she doesn’t have to hold herself up anymore. 

He’ll hold her. It’s fine. She gets to rest if she wants to. God knows she needs it. 

The night is warm for mid-September, but still Robin shakes against him. Eddie holds her closer. 

Silence settles over them, and it’s not an easy one. Silence is never easy anymore, especially with them. He feels so deeply hollow that even the silence echoes in there, creating an ever-present, uncomfortable thrumming of apprehension and anxiety within him. A certain sense of doom, one that can’t quite decide if it’s only an echo itself. 

“I wanna stop time,” Robin says at last, the cigarette long dead between Eddie’s fingers, but he somehow can’t bring himself to flick it away. “I don’t want tomorrow.” 

I don’t ever want a new day. I don’t ever want another tomorrow. I just want Steve. 

They ring in his head still, another echo that only hollows him out further every time it reaches him — Robin, overcome with hysterical grief, screaming and crying, curled up on that hospital floor, her cries quieting down and making Eddie wish she would be loud again, because the quiet was what killed him. The quiet, the whispered words, the declarations that tomorrow could go fuck itself if it came without Steve made him wish, irrationally, desperately, that their roles were reversed. That he could have died and Steve could have lived, and Robin would never have to wish tomorrow never came. 

He’s not entirely sure if she remembers the words, too. If she even said them in this world. 

So he takes a deep breath, breathes away memories and non-histories, feels the heavy weight of his guitar pick hanging around his neck, resting on the scarred flesh of his chest, and tries not to think of the one string left on his acoustic guitar. Tries not to think of his one last attempt. One last try. 

“I know,” he tells her. “Me neither.” 

He peers over her head, lifting his left wrist to check his watch. Ten minutes until midnight. Ten minutes until Steve’s birthday. 

“It’s not tomorrow yet,” he tries lamely, and Robin huffs — the sound wet and bitter and hopeless, making Eddie’s eyes sting. 

“It’s always fucking tomorrow,” she rasps, her voice flat and wavering, and Eddie knows her well enough to know she’s about to cry. And she knows him well enough to do it. 

“I know,” he says again, and reaches for his necklace through his shirt. One more attempt. One more try. One more chance. His eyes burn. 

She turns to him after taking a moment to compose herself, peering up at him through her lashes. 

“Tell me again?” 

His heart falls, the tense apprehension vanishing from the air, bur quickly replaced by something a lot more heavy. Something that looks and smells and feels like grief. 

They both know he’ll do anything she asks. He can’t really bear saying not to her. And not about this, anyway — she’s the only one who knows. 

She’s the one who should have had the chance. 

“Which part?” he asks, holding a new cigarette out for her to light it. She does, and the both follow the flame of the lighter Robin always keeps in her pocket these days. 

She leans forward and takes a drag. Eddie lets her. 

“All of them.“

Eddie sighs, pain welling up inside him, and he closes his eyes against the night sky. “Robbie,” he pleads, but he doesn’t finish his plea. He’ll do it. He’ll do anything she asks. 

But before he starts recounting the tales of how he almost saved Steve Harrington, he finds himself saying something he never thought he’d tell her. 

“There’s one more.” The words hang in the air, and Robin doesn’t react. Has no idea what’s coming; what he’s about to tell her. The guitar pick is heavy on the necklace around his throat. “There’s one more try. One more chance. I’m… I have one more—“ 

He can’t even finish the sentence. Can’t bring himself to say it, lest it all be jinxed forever. He doesn’t want to hope. Wants to carry this weight for all eternity and never think about all those times he failed to save someone he was never meant to save at all. People like Eddie, they’re not made to save anyone. Hell, they can’t even save themselves. 

Steve was supposed to be the one doing the saving. 

And he did. God, he fucking did. But he was never supposed to— 

Cold fingers wrap around his own as Robin fits their hands together. 

“I hate you a little bit for telling me.” 

Eddie nods, trying to focus on the cold hand and the nicotine in his lungs, trying not to let panic and grief and guilt and the heavy weight of one more chance win. “I know.” 

“Hey, Eddie?” Robin says after a while, the silence stretching on, and it’s almost midnight now. “Can you— Would you do something for me?” 

He turns his head, flicking the butt of his cigarette out into the darkness beyond them. “What’s that?” 

“Don’t— Don’t try to, to save him. Don’t— Just… Just maybe, could you celebrate his birthday with him? Make sure he knows he’s… God, make sure he knows he’s loved? Last year, no one really made time on his birthday and we just moved it backwards but God, could you— It’s almost midnight, and—“ 

“Robbie,” Eddie interrupts her, his voice hoarse and wavering, his eyes burning with tears as he tugs her close and holds her to his chest. “You should go. Don’t you wanna…” 

But she’s shaking her head against him with a vehemence that can hardly be misunderstood. 

“No,” she cries, and it’s more of a sob than anything. “I think if I ever saw him again, I’d… I don’t know what I’d do. Burn the whole fucking world to the ground for him or some shit, I can’t— I’d probably just cry all the time and that wouldn’t be helpful, really.” There’s a weak, wet laugh that bubbles out of both of them, and Eddie’s wiping at Robin’s face, drying the tears and making way for new ones to fall. 

“I’d light a fire for you,” Eddie says, the same weak smile on his lips that Robin meets him with now. “Nineteen fucking fires, you hear me?” 

She laughs again, then buries her face in his neck in a way that never quite fit. In a way that Eddie always knew was supposed to be someone else’s neck. 

But he’s not here anymore. And Eddie can’t get him back. No matter how much he aches for it, no matter how much he learned over and over and over again how easy it is to love Steve Harrington and how hard, how fucking impossible it is to lose him. Over and over and over again. 

And to live without him. This one fucking time they all get. It’s not fair. 

And now Robin is asking him to go back one more time and make sure that Steve knows— That he knows. 

Somehow the thought of that feels nobler than any attempt to save him, to bring him back; to rewrite history from a lonely boy’s perspective and hope that no one else is reading along. 

It feels right, too. Fundamentally and suddenly, and with such an intensity that Eddie knows the decision has been made the second he started telling her. 

Still he hesitates. Robin’s sobs have calmed down, and Eddie’s hand finds its way into her hair. 

“Do you really mean it?” 

She nods.

He nods, too, but slower. Like he’s trying to sway himself. Which way, he doesn’t know. 

“Make him happy.” 

“Okay,” he decides after a while, feeling hollow and desperate, but feeling purpose burning underneath his skin again. “One last time.” 

He unwinds his arms from around her and heads inside to grab his acoustic guitar. The last remaining string, badly untuned because he never dared to touch it, stares back at him in both mockery and invitation. A dare. A chance. A promise. 

Outside, Robin is waiting for him, looking anxious. Eddie wants to hug her. He doesn’t, only tightens his grip around the guitar’s neck. 

“Listen, Eddie, if this is goodbye or something—“ 

“It’s a birthday party, Robsie,” he interrupts her, aiming for light, aiming for brave. “I’m coming back right here.” 

“I know,” she rushes to say, taking a step toward him and wringing her hands. It’s endearing. It’s genuine. Eddie really is a little in love with her. “But, y’know, you don’t mess with time, and I don’t know what all you already changed before and I don’t wanna know but… If this is goodbye, if something happens, I just wanna tell you that I’m gonna miss you. And that I think you’re really cool. And that Steve’s— he’s really missing out, okay. Okay?” 

Eddie breathes, taking in her words and letting them soak into his body, his every last fibre. 

“Okay,” he smiles. “Thank you. You’re… I’m kind of in love with you, Robin Buckley. So there had better be no change in the universe, ‘cause that would really suck.” 

They smile at each other, Eddie with his guitar and Robin with her lighter, and somehow this feels like a deja-vu. The antithesis to a moment forever burned into his memory.

Make him pay. 

Make him happy. 

Eddie tugs on his necklace and plays the string before he can think about it too hard; before he can decide otherwise. 

Distantly, he hears the church bells announcing midnight as the world around him fades. 

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @cryptic-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @pukner @i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic @bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @awkwardgravity1 @devondespresso @bookworm0690 (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently)

[pinayelf]

never escaping the "making my oc pregnant during the last battle" allegations