#sorry guys don't mind this
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he's got some unconventional ways of flirting for sure.....
#one piece#acesan#portgas d ace#sanji#my art#don't mind usopp he's just third wheeling here. ✌️✌️✌️✌️✌️✌️✌️#WAIT THAT SOUNDS HELLA MEAN#sorry little guy.....
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Thinking about the fact that Zuko has had every possible hairstyle Katara could have ever been into (from bald to long hair). He wields dual swords like Jet. He is a powerful bender as the fortune teller intended. He acts as a "vigilante of sorts" like Jet did. He can be a puppy like Haru. He can be a badass like Jet. Truly the most versatile ever. He's the 1000 in 1 boyfriend fr.
Not to mention the parallels with her ofc, if we're going to consider Blue Spirit x Painted Lady shenanigans, the mommy issues, the dry sense of humor, the nerdiness, the sense of responsibility... All things that match Her regardless of her possible interests in romantic partners. It's just too amusing to me.
My dude was truly dedicated to the cause. I salute him.
#zutara#it's just too funny I'm so sorry#oh so u like long hair? I had it. u like guys with dual swords? I have dao swords#oh so u like puppies? I can be one! I'll do everything u ask even carry your bags for u umprompted!!#ohh u want me to be bad??? dw I'll tie u to a tree if u like... is that alright with u#oh u like respectful? I can be that... I'll be super respectful#oh u like freaky? ok I'll be keeping your necklace around my arm so I can sniff it at all times.. hope u don't mind
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tarpit site.
#personal#delete later#for context a tweet i made in the middle of the night blew the fuck up and brought the attention of anime fans who've been#harassing and hassling me about my big factual blunder for an entire day straight#“ok i'll apologize” “bro it's not that serious.”#“you're right it's not that serious“ ”why won't you just admit that you're wrong and apologize!“#i'm not going crazy right. i feel like i'm getting manipulated into thinking i must've been wrong#it's crazy how twitter hate will trick you into believing saying something someone else disagrees with is a moral failing#sorry i haven't seen frieren i guess but what's it to you. i wasn't making a claim or statement#also because nobody has gotten this in the original post i wasn't talking about the quality of animation i'm talking about solid drawing#which is a very specific principle of animation. dandandan has really good solid drawing wherein all the characters are animated#with realistic and proportional 3d depth. newsflash but trigger doesn't prioritize solid drawing in their animation and that's fine#it's an aesthetic choice and has ties to production limits. none of this is a big deal. this is all so stupid lol#i've dealt with worse and more annoying weebs though it's fine i'll put on my clown nose twitter needs their stupid guy for the day#oh btw at the end of the day this doesn't matter. it'll be over by tomorrow. all that's happening is petty angry emotions.#so please don't involve yourself by jumping into the argument and prolonging this shit#i'm about to go on a date with tulli after being apart for a month this is the furtherest thing from my mind rn
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i swear sometimes i think people forget that Jon's s1 skeptic act was just that—an act. it was an act!!! he believes the statements!! he's believed them since episode one! do we so soon forget that he denied the statements were real because he knew the Eye something wanted him to be scared, and he knew that was bad, so he decided to act like the statements just didn't scare him? remember, he was working with extremely limited information ("when i record the tape statements, i feel watched, like something knows i'm afraid, and i don't want it to know that"), and came up with a genuinely solid solution with what he had! not his fault that the thing watching him was a literal unknowable eldritch entity that feeds on fear, and he was just some underqualified archivist.
#sorry. saw a post and got a little angry about it#like bro! he literally tells martin in a fan-favorite conversation that it! was! an! act!#we KNOW he's believed in the supernatural since age eight!#i'm so tired of the ''lol haha jon didn't believe the OBVIOUSLY real statements but they still spooked him'' posts#i will not take this blorbo slander#leave my guy alone he tried his best. and was scared out of his mind while doing it#the magnus archives#jonathan sims#friday chats#it's like 1:30 am if this is moderately incoherent don't come at me
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in a n o t h e r life
#criminal minds#criminalmindsedit#criminal minds evolution#cmevolutionedit#cmverse#cmverseedit#emily prentiss#emilyprentissedit#mine#edit#*#otp: you are who you pretend to be#internal*#I'M DOING GREAT THANKS FOR ASKING#wednesday night i was complaining that they don't mention emily being a spy enough and then i got this the next day BLESS#(now let her speak other languages!!! it's been years and i'm dying here)#sorry that i'm still this obsessed with the lauren storyline but i am and those eps look SO GOOD giffed (AND DIMPLESSSS)#(making the cm evolution gifs look even worse in comparison i am BEGGING you guys to shoot above pitch black)#ALSO it makes sense that tara (and luke i assume) doesn't know about her time in the task force#(it's not like emily would bring it up it's bad enough that the rest of her family knows about doyle)#but i am !!!! about her not and need tara finding out please 👀
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drew a scene from @dunkalfredo's modern/scifi au... it's so good
#morally dubious scientist odile? Sign me the FUCK UP#isat#in stars and time#isat odile#isat au#day 107#oh man sorry if it looks weird I don't think I've ever touched comics or paneling or lighting ever before#meaningfully anyway. lots of things I wish i coulda done for this but hopefully it still looks dramatic enough!#anyways this au makes me very. kicking and giggling. its been rotating in my mind for a while now#give it a read if ya'll havent#edit: tagged! hopefully I didn't get the wrong guy
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who did this to you. part 3
🤍🌷 read part 1 here | read part 2 here pre-s4, steve whump, protective (but scared) eddie. now with robin!
The number rings in his head, echoing off the inside of his skull and sinking lower and lower until his heart strings join the symphony that leaves him shaking as the memory of Harrington’s slurred voice is drowned out by the dial tone that feels harrowingly like a flatline right now.
Said I’ll go blind. Or deaf. Or just… die.
Eddie doesn’t really feel like his body belongs to him anymore, or like there’s anything left inside him other than panic and fear and that stupid, stupid shaking that he can’t suppress even as he bites his knuckles. Hard.
The pain helps a little not to startle too much when the dial tone stops and a female voice begins speaking to him. Still he almost drops the phone, cursing under his breath as he pulls his hair to collect himself and get his voice to work.
“H— Hi, hello, Mrs Buckley? This is, uh. I. I’m. A friend of Robin’s, could you, uh—“
“Oh, of course, dear,” the woman says, and Eddie feels his eyes beginning to prick with how nice she sounds even through the phone.
Does she know Steve, too? Would she worry if she knew? Would she curse Eddie for not taking him to the hospital right away? Would she blame him if anything happened?
“I’m sorry? What did you say your name was?” she asks, repeating herself by the sound of it.
He blanks, for a whole five seconds, before he spots a note stuck to the fridge saying Don’t forget to eat, Eddie :-)
“Eddie,” he croaks. “Uh, Eddie Munson.”
“Alright, Eddie Munson, I’ll see if I can grab Robin for you. You have a good day, dear, yes?”
No. “Thanks.”
The hand clenched in his hair pulls tighter and tighter until the tears fall and he can pretend it’s from pain and not from— whatever the fuck is happening.
He waits, phone pressed to his ear with a kind of desperation he’s never really felt, and never wants to feel again. He doesn’t even know what to tell Robin; what to say. It’s not like they ever hang out or have anything to say to each other, so why would she—
“Munson?” Robin’s voice appears on the other end, a little too loud for Eddie’s certain state, and he does drop the phone this time, scrambling to catch it and only making the situation worse as it dangles by his knees.
He drops to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and reaching for the phone again.
“Hi.”
“What do you want? How’d you even get this number? I swear, if you—“
“It’s Blue. I mean, Steve. Harrington.”
That shuts her right up, and Eddie clenches his eyes shut for a moment, hoping to keep the tremor out of his voice if only he takes a moment to breathe.
The moment stretches. And Robin’s voice is wary and quiet when she speaks again.
“What about Steve.”
Eddie rubs his face, leaving more dirt and grime to fill the tear tracks, and clenches his fist before his mouth.
“Eddie,” Robin demands, dangerous now. Nothing left of the rambling, bubbling mess he knows her to be on the school hallways. “What. About. Steve.”
“He… He’s hurt.”
There’s a bit of a commotion on the other end, before Robin declares, “I’m coming over. You tell me everything.”
“You— I mean, he’s in the hospital with my uncle, so—“
“I am. Coming. Over,” she says, enunciating every word as though she were making a threat. Maybe she is. But the certainty in her voice helps a little, anchors him the same way that Wayne’s calmness did. “And you tell me everything.”
Eddie finds himself nodding along, knowing intuitively that there is nothing that could stop her now. Knowing that he doesn’t want to stop her.
“‘Kay.” It’s a pathetic little sound, all choked up and tiny. She doesn’t comment on it.
One second he hears her determined exhale, the next she’s hung up on him and Eddie is greeted by the flatline again. He lets out a shuddering breath and leans his head back against the wall.
Breathing is hard again, but it’s all he has to do now, all that’s left to do, so he focuses. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Hold. His lungs are burning and there’s something wrong about the way he pulls in air and keeps it there, desperately latching onto it until the very last second, his exhales more of a gasping cough than calm and controlled.
It takes a while. Longer than it should. But with Harrington’s blood still on his hands, with his heartbeat in his ears so loud he can’t even hear the words Wayne used to say about breathing in through the mouth or the nose or… or something, he—
He’s fine. He’s home. Wayne’s got Blue, and Buckley is on her way, and… He’s fine.
People don’t just die.
They don’t.
He’s fine.
Eventually, Eddie manages to breathe steadily, the air no longer shuddering and his hands no longer shaking. It’s stupid, really, being so worked up over someone he doesn’t even really know. Sure, everyone knows Steve fucking Harrington, and everyone sees Steve fucking Harrington — whether they want it or not. He has a way of drawing eyes toward him even if all he does is walk the halls with his dorky smile and that stupidly charming swagger he’s got going on. Always matching his shoes to his outfit.
Eddie can relate.
Always reaching out to touch the person he’s talking to; clapping their back or shoulder, lightly shoving them in jest, ruffling their hair or chasing them through the halls, moving and holding himself like teenage angst can’t reach him. Like he belongs wherever he goes. Like he’s so, so comfortable in his own skin. Like the clothes he wears aren’t armour but just a part of him; a means of self-expression.
Again, Eddie can relate. He can relate to all of this.
It’s almost like the two of them aren’t so different after all. Just going about it differently.
And now he’s… Bleeding. Slurring his speech. Wheezing his breath. And Eddie feels protective. Eddie feels responsible. Like he should be there, like he should get to know more about him. About Steve. About Blue.
But he can’t. And he won’t. So he gets up with a groan that expresses his frustration and the need to make a sound, to fight the oppressive silence that only encourages his thoughts to run in obsessive little circles, and he hangs up the phone that’s been dangling beside him all this time.
He needs a smoke.
He needs a smoke and a blunt and a drink and for this day to be over and for time to revert and to leave him out of whatever business he stumbled into by opening the door to the boathouse and, apparently, Steve Harrington’s life.
But unfortunately, the universe doesn’t seem to care about what he needs, because just as he steps outside and goes to light his cig, he catches sight of a harried looking Robin Buckley, standing on the pedals of her bike as she kicks them, her hair blowing in the wind to reveal a frown between her brows. A wave of unease overcomes Eddie, an unease he can’t really place. Maybe it’s the set of her jaw, or the tension in her shoulders, or maybe it’s the worry and anger she exudes.
It never occurred to him before that Robin Buckley might not be a person you’d want to set off. And not because of her uncontrollable rambles.
“Munson!” she calls over, carelessly dropping her bike in the driveway and stalking toward him.
Almost as if summoning a shield, Eddie does light the cigarette. Pretends like the smoke can protect him.
She doesn’t stop at the foot of the steps, though, climbs them in two leaps and gets all up in his space with that unwavering look of determination — so unwavering, in fact, that it almost looks like wrath. Cold. Eddie wants to shrink away from it, not at all daring to wonder what could make her look like that upon hearing that Steve’s hurt.
I don’t wanna die, Munson. I never… I didn’t. With the monsters or the torture.
But those are the words of a semi-conscious teenage boy beat to a pulp, they can’t— There’s no way. Eddie misheard him, or Steve was talking about some kind of inside joke, using the wrong terminology with the wrong guy. It happens. It happens when you’re out of it, really! The shit he’s said when he was shot up, canned up, all strung out and high as a kite… He’d be talking of monsters, too, and mean some benign shit.
But the way Harrington looked, none of that was benign. The bruising all over his face, the blood still dripping from the wound by his temple or his nose, the way he held himself, breath rattling in his lungs, or—
“Hey!” Buckley demands his attention, giving him a light shove; just enough to catch his attention, really, and just what he needed to snap out of it. Still the smoke hits his lungs wrong and he coughs up a lung, further cementing his role of the pathetic little guy today.
“Hey,” he says lamely, his voice still croaking as he crushes the half-smoked cigarette under his boot. “Sorry.” He doesn’t know for what. But it feels appropriate.
She shakes her head, rolling her eyes at him as she crosses her arms in front of her chest.
“Tell me,” she says at last, and even though there is a tremor in her voice, she sounds nothing short of demanding. “I want the whole story, and I want it now.”
And so he does. He tells her everything, bidding her inside because he needs the relative safety of the trailer even though the air in here is stuffy and still faintly smells blue. He pours them both some coffee and some tea, because asking what she wants doesn’t feel right in the middle of telling her how he found her supposed best friend beat to shit in the boathouse he went to to forget about the world for a while.
She stills as she listens to him, staring ahead into the middle distance somewhere beneath the floor and the walls, her hands wrapped around the steaming mug of coffee. Eddie stumbles over his words a lot, unsettled by her stillness, her lack of reaction. She doesn’t even react to his fuck-ups. People usually do.
He wants to ask. Where are you right now? What have you seen? What’s on your mind? What the fuck is happening?
But he doesn’t ask, instead he tells her more about Steve. About how he seemed to forget where he was. About the pain he was in. About the smiles nonetheless. The way he reassured Eddie.
That one finally gets a choked little huff from her, somewhere between a sob and a laugh.
“Yeah, that sounds like him alright. He’s such a dingus.”
There is so much affection in her voice as she says it that Eddie can’t help but smile into his mug.
“Dingus?” he asks, hoping for some lightness, hoping to keep it.
But the light fades, and her eyes get distant again. Eddie wants to kick himself.
“Just a stupid little nickname. An insult, really.”
“Oh.” He doesn’t know what to do with that. If he should ask more or if he should say that he has a feeling Steve might appreciate stupid little nicknames. Especially if they’re unique. Especially if they’re for him. But what right does he have to say that now? What knowledge does he have about Steve Harrington that Robin doesn’t?
So he bites his tongue and drinks his coffee, cursing the silence that falls over them as Robin mirrors him, albeit slow and stilted, like she doesn’t know what to do either. Or where to put her limbs.
“Wayne’s got him now. I took him here, after the boathouse, because I didn’t know what to do. He said he didn’t want the hospital, said there’s…” He trails off.
Robin looks at him, her eyes wary but alert. “Said there’s what?”
It’s stupid. Don’t say it.
“Eddie?”
With a sigh, he puts his mug on the counter and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “He said there’s monsters. In the hospital, I mean. He said that.”
Instead of scoffing or at least frowning, Robin clenches her jaw and nods imperceptibly, her eyes going distant again. Eddie blinks, the urge to just fucking ask overcoming him again, but with every passing second he realises that he doesn’t actually want to ask. He doesn’t want to know, let alone find out.
He just… He just wants to go to bed. Forget any of this ever happened. But he can’t do that, so he continues.
“Brought him here and Wayne took one look at him and convinced him he needed a doctor. And, Jesus H Christ, he was right. I’ve never… I mean, those things don’t happen,” he urges, balling his hands into fists even in the confined space of his pockets. “Right? I mean… Shit, man.” He bumps his shoe into the kitchen counter; gently, so as not to startle Buckley out of her fugue like state.
“You’d be surprised,” she rasps, staring into the middle distance again and slowly sinking to the floor. There is a tremor in her shoulders now, barely noticeable, but Eddie knows where to look. Without really thinking about it, he grabs two of his hoodies he’d haphazardly thrown over the kitchen chairs this morning while deciding on his outfit and realising that it was altogether too warm for long sleeves today. But now, right here in this kitchen, the air tinged with blue, they’re both freezing.
Because fear and worry will take all the warmth right from inside of you and leave you freezing even on the hottest day of the year.
She barely looks at him when he holds out his all-black Iron Maiden hoodie to her, freshly washed and all that, but she takes it nonetheless, immediately pulling it on. It’s way too large on her, her hands not showing through the sleeves, her balled fists safe and warm inside the fabric. It would make him smile if only it didn’t highlight her stillness, her faraway stare, and the years he has on her. She’s, what, two years younger than him? Three?
It seems surreal. Everything, everything does.
Robin Buckley in his home, sitting on his kitchen floor, swallowed by a hoodie that is a size too large even for him, but it was the last one they had in the store and he doesn’t mind oversized clothes, can just cut them shorter when the need arises or layer them or declare them comfort sweaters for when he wants to just have his hands not slip through the sleeves on some days. And now Robin is wearing his comfort hoodie because her best friend was bleeding in his car earlier and then on his couch and now in his uncle’s car, and they never even talk, but he knows that Robin’s favourite colour is blue, but not morning hour blue because that makes her sad; only deep, dark blues.
Her favourite colour. Her favourite person.
It’s so fucking surreal.
He drops down beside her, leaving enough space between them so neither of them feels caged, and mirrors her position: knees to his chest, chin on his forearms. Staring ahead.
And silence reigns.
“Your uncle,” she says at last, finally breaking the silence that’s been grating on Eddie’s nerves and looking at him, really looking as she rests her cheek on her forearms crossed over her knees. “Tell me about him.”
There is a gentleness to her voice now despite how hoarse it is. Maybe she’s just tired, too. And scared. At least the shivering has stopped.
Still Eddie frowns, confused as to why she should be breaking the silence to ask about Wayne when everything today has been about Harrington. About Steve. About deep and dark blues.
“Uncle Wayne?” he asks. “Why?”
“Because,” she begins, and sighs deeply, works to get the air back in her lungs. Eddie wants to reach out, but instead he just clenches his fingers a little deeper into the fabric of his hoodie. “My best friend is hurt very badly and the only person with him is your uncle, and I need to know that he’s in good hands. Or I swear to whatever god you may or may not believe in, and granted, it’s probably the latter, but still I swear I’ll give into my arsonist tendencies and burn down this city, starting with your trailer if you don’t tell me that your uncle is a good man who will do anything in his power to make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs. And deserves.”
Her jaw is set and her bottom lip trembles, but it doesn’t take away from the absolute sincerity in her threat.
“So, please,” she continues, her voice breaking just a little bit. “Tell me. Tell me about your uncle.”
Tell me about your favourite person.
Eddie swallows, and mirrors her position once more, so she can see his eyes and know he’s sincere. Because he’s learned something about eyes today, about how much in the world can change if only you have a pair of eyes to look into.
And he nods, looking for somewhere to start. “He’s the best man I know. He’s the best man you’ll ever meet.”
She clings to his eyes. Searches them for the truth, beseeching them not to lie. He lets her.
“Took me in when I was ten, because my dad’s a fuck-up and my mom’s a goner. Took me in again when I was twelve after I ran away. Makes me breakfast and I pretends the dinner I make him is more than edible.” He smiles a little, because how could he not? “He’s my uncle, but still he’s the best parent anyone could wish for. Writes those little notes that he sticks to the fridge, y’know, the one with the smiley face? Tells me to eat, because I forget sometimes. I tell him to drink water, because he forgets. First few years, he’d read to me. And the man’s a shit reader, has some kind of disability I think, and at some point I learned that he wasn’t reading at all. He was telling me stories all the time, conning me into thinking that the books were magic, and that every time I’d try to read the book for myself, the story would change.”
There’s a lump in his throat now, and his eyes sting again. But Robin doesn’t seem to fare any better than him if her wavering smile is any indication.
“There’s no one,” Eddie continues, “who will make you believe in magic quite like uncle Wayne. Or in good things. And d’you wanna know what he told Blue when he said he was scared of going to the hospital?”
Sniffling, Robin shakes her head.
“He said, Okay. Then we do it scared. And all of that after he just… with that patience he has, told him everything that was gonna happen. And that he’d be there with him through it all. That he knew the doc and wouldn’t let anyone else near him, and that there’s no need to be scared at all.”
He sighs, breathes, stills. Swallows, before looking back at Robin.
“So, if there’s one person who’ll make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs and deserves…”
“It’s uncle Wayne,” Robin finishes his sentence, her voice still hoarse, but Eddie likes to think it’s for a different reason now.
“It’s uncle Wayne,” Eddie says, nodding along as he does.
There is something like understanding in Robin’s eyes now, and Eddie hopes it’s enough. Enough to calm the spiking of her nerves, enough to settle the coil of freezing nausea that must reside in the pit of her stomach, enough to let the next breath she takes feel a little more like it’s supposed to be there.
He wants to say something more, wants to reach out and reassure her that everything will be okay, but he can’t know that. He doesn’t feel like it’s entirely true, let alone appropriate right now.
There’s something in Robin’s eyes, in the way she holds herself, like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like she accepts his words at face value but doesn’t really believe them. Like she’ll only rest when she’s got her best friend back in her arms and hears the story — the whole story — from him.
And Eddie doesn’t fault her, because the thing is, he doesn’t know what happened. Steve said that Hagan came at him, but that’s really all he got out of him before he started talking about death and shit, and Eddie really didn’t want to ask any more questions then.
So they sit there for a while, the silence oppressive and unwelcome, clumsy and awkward; Robin’s mouth opening and closing a lot, like she wants to ask questions but doesn’t dare to ask them — and Eddie doesn’t know if he’s glad about it or not. Doesn’t know if he wants to hear the kind of questions asked with that kind of stare.
It is only after a long while, when Robin’s shoulders start shaking again and she buries deeper into the hoodie and her own spiralling thoughts, that Eddie breaks the silence again, replaying in his head the last moment between him and Steve.
“He’s not gonna break,” he tells her, aiming for gentle and reassuring.
What he doesn’t expect is the minute flinch, the jolt shooting through her body and the pained expression it leaves her with. What he doesn’t expect is what she says next.
“You know,” she begins, her voice as far away as her eyes, and it’s like she doesn’t even know she’s speaking. “Sometimes I wish he would.”
What?
Eddie blinks, swallowing hard.
“Just for, just for a break. Just so he can rest. Let the rest take over for a while.”
That… He doesn’t— What the hell does that even mean?
“Like maybe then the world would… snap back.” She snaps her fingers, just once. This time it’s Eddie who flinches. “And everything bad would disappear. But it won’t. And he won’t.” She swallows. Then quietly, almost inaudible, “He won’t break.”
And the way she says it… It was reassuring before. And now it feels like a burden. A curse.
Who the fuck are you, Steve Harrington? And you, Robin Buckley.
Eddie shudders, knowing he doesn’t want the answer to that anymore. He doesn’t want the questions either. So he buries his face in his hands, closes his eyes, and breathes. The adrenaline has worn off by now, the repeated panicking that added fuse to the fire has ceased now, leaving him worn out and strung out, tired and exhausted. He pulls up the hood, burrowing into the warmth.
And then he stills. His usually twitching, fumbling, fiddling body falling entirely still beside Buckley.
It’s like time stops for a while there, even though Eddie knows that it’s dragging ever on and on. He’s inclined to let it, though. He’s too tired, too exhausted to really care about what time may or may not be doing.
“Why’d you call me?”
It takes a while for Eddie to realise that Robin’s spoken again, asked him a question out loud, the cadence of it different to the endless circles of questions Eddie’s got stuck in his head since the early afternoon tinged in blue against crimson.
He lifts his head, tucking his hands underneath his chin, and looks over at Buckley. Her hair is dishevelled now, her mascara smudged and crusty. Her lipstick is almost all gone, with the way he sees her biting and chewing on her lips.
“I… It seemed like the right thing to do, y’know? He kept repeating your number. In the car, it was like… Sounds dramatic, but it was like his lifeline, almost. Repeated it so often it kinda got stuck.” He shrugs. “Seemed important, too.”
Robin frowns; a careful little thing. “How’d you know it was me?”
“Well, he just talked about you. Y’know. Tell me about your favourite person, I told him, because that’s the thing you gotta do to keep people, like, talking to you. Not shit about what day it is, or what. Just, y’know. Let them talk about things they like. Things they’ll wanna tell you about. ’N’ he talked about you.”
She’s quiet for a while, letting his words sink in. And Eddie wonders if she knew. That she’s his favourite person. If he ever told her. If maybe he took that from him now. It’s a stupid thing to worry about, really; the boy was bloodied and bruised on his couch just an hour ago, there are worse things at hand for Eddie to worry about. But now he wonders if he just spilled some sort of secret. Some sort of love confession.
“Did you, I mean… Are you guys, like, dating? Did I just steal his moment?”
Robin huffs, but it’s more like a smile that needs a little more space in the room, a little more air to really bloom. It’s fond. She shakes her head, her eyes far away again, but closer somehow.
“Nah,” she says, and the smile is in her voice, too. Eddie kind of likes her voice like that. “We’re platonic. Which is something I’d never thought I’d say. Not about Steve Harrington, y’know?”
And the way she drags out his name… Eddie can relate. Like it means something, but like what it means is nowhere close to reality. Nowhere close to what it really means. Nowhere close to Blue.
Robin sighs, the sound more gentle than it should be, and leans her head against the cabinet behind her. “We worked together over summer break. Scoops Ahoy.” Her voice does a funny thing, and her eyes glaze over as she pauses. Eddie waits, his lips tipped up into a little smile, too; to match hers.
“What, the ice cream parlour?”
Robin hums, her smile widening at what Eddie guesses must be memories of chaos and ridiculousness. “I wanted to hate him,” she continues. “But try as I might, he wouldn’t let me. Or, he did. He did let me. Just, it turns out, there’s no use hating Steve Harrington, not when he’s so… So endlessly genuine. There’s nothing to hate, y’know? And then he…”
She stops, her mouth clicking shut as her eyes tear up a little. The Starcourt fire. Eddie remembers the news, remembers the self-satisfied smirk when he’d heard about it, remembers sticking it to the Man and to capitalism and to the idea of malls over supporting your friendly neighbourhood businesses.
Guilt and shame overcome him as he realises that they must have been in there when it happened.
“He saved your life?”
Robin’s eyes snap toward him, wide and caught, and Eddie raises his hands in placation.
“In the fire? Were you there?”
“Y—yeah.” She swallows hard, avoiding his eyes. “The fire. He saved me. Yeah.”
Eddie nods, deciding to drop that topic right there; to lay it on the ground as gently as he can and cover it with bright red colours so he never steps on it ever again.
“He must be your favourite person, too, then, hm?” he steers the conversation back away into safer waters.
“He is,” she says, sure and genuine and true. “It’s just. I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s favourite. He has a lot of people who care about him, you know? A lot of people he cares about. Even more numbers memorised in that stupidly smart head of his.” She huffs again, burrowing deeper into Eddie’s hoodie, pulling the sleeves over her hands some more. “It’s stupid, to be so hung up on this. Is it stupid?”
“I don’t think it is,” Eddie says, scooting a little closer to Robin. “Like, I don’t even know that boy, right? But even I know that he’s got some ways to shift your focus or something. Give you a silver lining, or something to take the pain away even when he’s the one who… I don’t know, that’s probably stupid, too.”
“Nah,” Robin says, scooting closer to him, too, until their sides are pressed together and she can lay her head on his shoulder. “It’s not stupid. You’re right; that’s Steve for you. ’S just who he is.”
It is, isn’t it?
You’re so blue, Stevie.
She’ll say something corny when, when you ask her, jus’ to fuck with you. Sunset gold or rose, jus’ to mess with… But is blue.
Blue. ‘S nice.
Yeah. Yeah, he is.
Eddie lets his thoughts roam the endless possibilities and realities that is Steve Harrington, the depths he hides — or won’t hide, maybe, if you know how to ask. Where to look.
Maybe he’ll find out, one of these days. Not about the terrible things that leave him scared of the hospital, not about the horrible things that have him speaking of death and dying like he’s accepted them as a possibility a long time ago.
He swallows hard and shakes off these thoughts, because things like that just. They don’t happen. They don’t happen to blue-smiled boys who trust you to be kind even when they’re beaten straight to hell. And they sure as hell don’t happen when uncle Wayne’s around.
Nothing bad has ever happened when uncle Wayne was around.
And he wants to tell Robin, wants to make that promise. But part of him can’t bear the thought of being wrong. So he keeps his mouth shut and just sits with her, their heads as heavy as their hearts as they wait.
The sun is long gone when the phone above him rings again, spooking and startling them out of their timeless existence.
“Yeah?” he answers, his heart hammering in his chest. “Wayne?”
“Hey, Ed,” Wayne’s voice comes through the phone like a melody. Calm and steady. Robin is scooting closer, and Eddie shifts the phone to accommodate her so they can both listen. Somehow, they ended up holding hands — and holding on hard. “We’re coming home now.”
🤍🌷 tagging:
@theshippirate22 @mentallyundone @ledleaf @imfinereallyy @itsall-taken @simply-shin @romanticdestruction @temptingfatetakingnames @stevesbipanic @steddie-island @estrellami-1 @jackiemonroe5512 @emofratboy @writing-kiki @steviesummer @devondespresso @swimmingbirdrunningrock @dodger-chan @tellatoast @inkjette @weirdandabsurd42 @annabanannabeth @deany-baby @mc-i-r @mugloversonly @viridianphtalo @nightmareglitter @jamieweasley13 @copingmechanizm @marklee-blackmore @sirsnacksalot @justrandomfandomstm @hairdryerducks @silenzioperso @newtstabber @fantrash @zaddipax @cometsandstardust @rowanshadow26 @limpingpenguin @finntheehumaneater @extra-transitional (sorry if i missed anyone! lmk if you don't wanna be tagged for part 4 🫶)
#steddie#steddie fic#steve harrington#eddie munson#robin buckley#who did this to you#something has Shifted in this part and i wanna do a literary/meta analysis of it but i dont wanna ruin the fun or be annoying but hhh#also sorry if you don't like this bc it's so different from the other two but the sudden adrenaline crash will do that to ya#we'll get Blue back soon don't you worry 🤍#also eddie's mind is running in circles and he doesn't have wayne to stop him this time sooo if this feels repetitive and redundant???#then let's pretend it should read that way actually (and also eddie is an obsessive little guy he'll ruminate forever if he doesn't have#an outlet sooo)#also rambling fumbly robin going deadly still over an injured steve is the hill i will die on actually like that just makes me feral#dio words
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Thought about how Indigo and Roz would interact in this au, so here's some sillies! I think they'd be buddies faster than Verte would consider them both as her buddies. so you know.
#inside out#inside out 2#pixar inside out#inside out au#spy au#inside out ennui#inside out embarrassment#inside out disgust#ennui#embarrassment#disgust#agent roz#agent indigo#agent verte#some trivia bits casually dropping in here: roz understands french#verte and roz don't drink alcohol for different reasons#im making indigo do the nickname thing now. fits her well. she also pronounces it roZe for fun (bc his name roz get it get it)#also sorry if the comic is confusing it's supposed to be that indigo sat next to verte to mope after a time#i did not realize it could be read differently after i finished the comic#but in my defense. it was kind of a very unplanned comic anyways LOL#gene art#bughaw i prommy i'll draw you more with the guys soon too#lastly i think indy and roz would bond over how much they're attracted to verte. btw /HJ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#intended to be platonic but i dont mind if this is tagged a romantic ship
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will i always be an outsider in this city?
#yes this is the gif version of that other post#sorry if it's repetitive#but ah#i'm sure you guys don't mind it#self#mine#burntpink#bw#urban#night#city lights#urbanscape#cityscape#city landscape#urban landscape#dark#night city#city at night
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i have ALWAYS promptly looked forward to jason grace's povs in the hoo books to the point where'd I'd flip the pages till I find the words "JASON" and would count the amount of povs he has in the whole book before I even finished reading, so I feel excited knowing that I'll get to his povs soon. there, I said it.
#there is no 'i skip jason's povs' allowed in this household sorry I love him too much#if im a loser for liking no LOVING his povs then so be it idc#I genuinely felt interested in reading his povs bc he was the only one without memories#like we don't know who is how got there what he's in chb for?? his mind was so blank that even I felt confused for the poor guy#the sheer devastation I felt when I saw people hating on him online after I read the hoo books 😭#even yesterday I saw a person comment on a jason pinterest post about how he is so uninteresting unfunny and insensitive-#and that they felt bad nico had come out to jason of all people. like okay what did jason ever do to deserve this treatment dam#all poor young me wanted to do was discuss how much I love him and what a great character he was-#i genuinely loved his povs??? he is so dry chill and sarcastic I love it sm bc same jason#whenever he analyzes people's behaviours and notices their habits>>>#pjo#pjo fandom#percy jackson#pjo series#jason grace#pjo hoo#pjo hoo toa
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How many people witnessed softie food addict horror who needed something in his mouth or he would actively kill and turn to cannibalism 🧍♀️ or was that just me.... anyways honestly it was silly.. he'd maybe get along with cook horror... I just like fanon crossovers guys*sadge
Anyways canon horror is also silly(really silly. What an asshole, man)(no seriously he's actually such an asshole.. I might love him for that but-) I don't think he would get along with the others(loser)
#me when I acknowledge as many sides of an argument as possible which just makes me confused because I am trying to take off of other people#but they're so diverse that I can't mix all of it and so I don't know how to interpret any characters anymore and what makes it worse is my#ahh not actually understanding people or relationships because I got minimum emotions maximum carelessness but I also love emotions so I#love the psychological torture of all of this but I also don't understand it so I'm depending on everyone else but yet again they're so#mixed I get confused and I don't know how to deal with any of it so I'm just here standing confused screaming in my own mind as I try to#understand how to make it all work together and then#....#Jesus fuck#sans au#utmv#undertale au#horrortale#horror sans#UwU#anyways disregard any ideas I may have ever because they will always change and I don't know what to do anymore.......#bro I'm boutta resort to Wattpad fics.... get ready for Wattpad highschool fic😼/j#I want to do that but I lost my fluidity in writing sighs...#I never graduated from Wattpad sorry guys😔#I didn't do that well drawing canon horror tbh but it'll have to do
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So, I've been wondering something.
In red dead online, there isn't too much use for Dead Eye because it doesn't/can't slow time down since you're playing on a server. It's still a powerful skill if you work on the upgrades for it, but one thing I noticed a lot (because I rarely use Dead Eye in online mode) is that your character really doesn't like having a low Dead Eye meter.
As in, your character will cover their eyes and scrunch up their face and wince as if they've got a bad headache (this goes for playing in story mode too). Now I know they're just visual cues for the player to see and be able to tell that the Dead Eye is low (because your aim is much worse with low Dead Eye), but the implications are pretty interesting to me.
So the question is, does having low Dead Eye hurt and why?
We know that both Dead Eye and Eagle Eye are learned skills, and things like cigarettes, cigars, chewing tobacco, alcohol, snake oil and cheese all benefit your Dead Eye when it's low. It's a crucial meter, just like your heath or stamina - which raises more questions in itself.
Dead Eye and Eagle Eye are fascinating to me because they're very valuable abilities that can be used at will, and have specific set limits for how long they can be used at a time.
But only Dead Eye needs regular sustenance, or "feeding" I suppose.
This gives me the impression that Dead Eye is constantly dormant, instead of something that's "turned on" when needed. Like a constant state of being on high alert that's running on the sidelines of your character's day to day life.
When your character hasn’t used Dead Eye for a while and it still drains, it could mean their brain is struggling to maintain that high level of alertness in the background. This constant readiness, or the potential to drop into Dead Eye at any moment, would be like someone constantly being on high alert in real life. Even if they don’t act on it, the strain of staying ready for danger builds up.
Dead Eye uses an almost superhuman level of focus and precision. To enter that state of hyper awareness where time seems to slow down (even if it's just the perception of it), your character's brain might be working much harder than usual, forcing the mind into overdrive. Just like overusing muscles leads to physical fatigue, overworking the brain through intense focus could lead to mental exhaustion and physical symptoms, like headaches or vision problems.
And since Dead Eye depletes like a stamina bar and requires nourishment (cigarettes, alcohol, cheese), the skill could be linked to the body’s energy resources. Using Dead Eye probably increases your character's heart rate, sharpens reflexes, and probably even increases adrenaline production, which are all very taxing on the body.
Which makes sense as to why things like tobacco and alcohol help replenish it.
Stimulants like nicotine or the rush from alcohol might help keep that mental sharpness in check or at least alleviate the strain. It's as if the brain needs to be sharpened or soothed with substances because it's working overdrive in the background, even when you’re not actively engaging with Dead Eye.
So if we treat Dead Eye as something that affects the brain’s chemistry, like sharpening focus and precision, it could also deplete certain neurochemicals or hormones over time (adrenaline, dopamine, etc). Tobacco or alcohol might simulate the release of chemicals that help regulate those abilities. The discomfort your character feels when Dead Eye is low could well be on the same level as withdrawal symptoms, where the brain is craving more of those chemicals to return to its state of super focus.
I mean, what a fucking fascinating concept right?
Dead Eye is solely tied to heightened awareness for life or death situations, focusing entirely on people who can fight back and threaten your life. So while you're using it, you're engaging with targets that could potentially harm you, and that’s why it probably has such a taxing effect. Your mind and body are fully ramped up for combat, for precision, and for survival. It’s essentially a battle skill, designed for quick, decisive violence.
You also gain Dead Eye points for killing people, so you're not just using this dangerous skill, you're learning every time you use it and kill with it.
From a world building pov, this really deepens characters like Arthur or any other Dead Eye users. They're not just "good with guns" - they're managing the toll that comes with honing such a deadly skill. And unlike Eagle Eye, which is more of a passive, less draining ability, Dead Eye seems to tap into something more intense and unsustainable. Which is really fitting for their lifestyle.
Eagle Eye is taught through patience and understanding of the natural world, Dead Eye is forged in fire and the result of a life steeped in bloodshed and conflict.
#sorry if this has been discussed before :')#something something arthur probably smokes a lot for his dead eye#that scene where arthur shoots a bottle because sean told him to was literally us seeing dead eye in real time#that's so fucking cool#let me know what you guys think <3#don't mind me getting nerdy on main 😔💔#mick thinks#rdr2#red dead redemption 2#arthur morgan#red dead online#red dead online oc#red dead redemption community
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The Bakusquad is well equipped
#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#my doodles#bakusquad#dekusquad#Iida realizing is a lost cause#guys NOT in front of IIda's salad please#Sero is tacos shaped don't change my mind#AND DENKI IS THE CUTEST MF#can we all agree that actually iida is the hottest character#but the bastard hides it well#he has the fucking undercut the sneaky villain#and he's built like a brick#his profile in the last chapter is so aahdjasjdaasdhasdakhd#you can decide who is lusting on who#but bakugo is flexing because he knows izuku is watching#sorry for the babygirlification of kirishima#sero hanta#bakugo katsuki#todoroki shouto#midoriya izuku#iida tenya#kirishima eijiro#ashido mina#uraraka ochako#seroroki crumbles#BAKUGO IS HAPPY WHEN HE IS WITH HIS FRIENDS#kaminari denki
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people bending over backwards to scream Marika never loved Messmer when he alone has more blessings personally bestowed by her than any other demigods combined are so funny to me. also the fact that it's implied he used to live in Leyndell too 😂😂
also she killed an entire god herself and made sure said God is called all manner of names and depict as ugly forever. for him 😂😂
#my problem with the :(( poor Messmer take is that you have to take a lot of INT points off him if you think his devotion is blindly one-side#taking on the crusade taking on all of ppl's scorn and hatred stuck in a faraway land#morgott is at least just minding his own business down below#imagine defending your fav like “he committed massacre because his mother doesnt love him” be serious with me rn#you want a woobified loveless guy i want a guy that did everything for love because he is loved in return#and don't pretend he's forced to impale and be so cruel to the Hornsent#he did all that eye wide open on his own volition because this is a revenge story. because he knew damn well at one point his mother could#have been cut up and put in a jar#why is the ONLY smiling Marika statue in this entire game a statue of her embracing him#why Marika a sole survivor of an entire clan of ppl would not love the own flesh & blood that she got after she just lost her entire family#(to a massacre btw)#make it make sense#“only the kindness of Gold#without Order” i am sorry we do not deserve the banger implication you give us#er brainrot
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S06E10: wilson
#james wilson#house md#hatecrimes md#houseedit#robert sean leonard#gregory house#hate crimes md#gilles gifs#okay so#i don't mind dom wilson bc i feel like it is good for his character arc to be in control and finally decide what *he* wants#and this (and the bed shopping scene) are scenes where im like. yes he needs the enrichment#but i am a huge fan of sub!wilson#i think this guy would give and give and give and give and do all of it with his adoring puppy eyes#and someone needs to save him from himself etc etc#sorry these tags are completely not related to the gifset actually#but oh my god wilson is such a sad little man.... constantly living for others ;_;
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hehehehehhooo,, decided to draw some hermits as the mystery skulls animated gang!! why? uhhh mostly just 'cause.
special thanks to the ibaaf server for helping me pick the roles! gem is vivi,, false is arthur,, pearl is lewis,, and etho is mystery!!
better pic of pearl under the cut, where you can how lazy i am,,ms ksmsksjs
#my art#hermitcraft#mystery skulls animated#falsesymmetry#geminitay#ethoslab#pearlescentmoon#falsesymmetry fanart#geminitay fanart#ethoslab fanart#pearlecentmoon fanart#this wasn't supposed to have this much effort put into it. and then it took five hours.#chose etho's role first cuz i really like the kitsune etho headcanon#(yes his collar has a maple leaf on it)#and the lil deadbeats are a bunch of lil tillys!!#we also gave roles to some of the other characters. bdubs is shiromori and cub is reverb/???/possession guy#sorry guys; you're antagonists now 😔#actually i don't think cub would mind this#also i refuse to think any harder about what bdubs being shiromori means. they're both plants okay.#it was either this or joel#or that one sock monster guy from season six#joe and cleo are duet and chloe respectively. joe as duet fits. cleo as chloe does not but also no one else really fits chloe anyway so idc#no more wanting an undead boyfriend.... THEY are the undead boyfriend now.#i think we had uncle lance as iskall??? still not too sure#they both have beards tho. that's something#oh!! also rendog is galaham bc i said so.#anyway. please watch msa it's so so good.#(or watch hermitcraft if you haven't already. a new season started a while back it's the perfect time to join)#not sure if i'll draw more of this;; this is less an au and more just me being silly#but i hope y'all like it regardless!!
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