#tag list updated

[runraerun]

Steddie Amnesia Ficlet

-> part two

cw: lots of head trauma/brain injury/recovery stuff.

Steve wakes up in the hospital with someone snoring loudly on his leg, mouth open, drool getting soaked up into the scratchy hospital blanket over him.

Steve just stares.

It’s… Freddie? No, that’s not right... Eddie! Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson, known delinquent and drug dealer… resting his head on Steve’s lap.

What the hell…?

Steve reaches up with a wobbly, IV-ridden hand to clumsily pat along his head, but instead of meeting messy hair, he meets a thick wad of bandages. He flinches when he hits an especially tender spot.

It’s not much but it’s enough to wake Eddie Munson up with a jolt, and a random jumble of words that sounded something like, “the dice have spoken!”, but Steve can’t be sure. Not with the sharp ringing still going off inside his skull.

“Steve? Steve! Oh thank fuck, Jesus H. Christ, you scared the ever loving shit out of me.” Eddie stood and grabbed at one of Steve’s shoulders, shaking him enough to elicit another wince.

“Oh, damn, sorry. I’m like a fucking bull in a china shop here, man. There’s way too much expensive, breakable shit here. I’m not used to it. I accidentally ripped your IV out the other day... Fuck. The nurses hate my guts.” Eddie chuckles, eyes wide and solely on Steve, talking like they were old friends or something.

But that can’t be right. Steve doesn’t remember saying more than two words to Eddie Munson during the entire time he knew he even existed, and even then it was just to discuss weed prices.

“For real though, talk to me Harrington, how you feelin’, hm? Loopy? Gonna yak again? Apparently they got you on the good stuff,” Eddie flicks a liquid filled bag hanging above Steve and shakes his head, “but they keep cutting you back. Dicks.”

Steve’s eyes try and follow Eddie’s erratic movements but his eyes ache the more he moves them. He blinks against the harsh fluorescents and tries to open his mouth. And thank God, Eddie Munson seems to take this as a sign and shut up.

“What happened?” Steve finally croaks.

One of Eddie’s brows jumps. “You don’t remember?”

Steve gives his head a small shake. Did Eddie hit him with his car or something? Is that why he’s sleeping at his bedside and talking to him like they’re buddies?

“You fell, Stevie.” Eddie makes a whistling noise and mimicks something falling with his hands, then makes a crashing sound when his hand lands on Steve’s bandaged head. “Like a coconut out of a tree. Landed right on that big ol’ melon of yours. There was blood everywhere. It scared the shit out of me and the kids. Especially when you wouldn’t wake up.”

Steve’s throat feels like sandpaper, but he manages to swallow, his throat clicking as he did, and gets out, “The kids?”

Eddie seems to notice, even before Steve can ask, and reaches for a water bottle with a straw already in it, and half chewed. Eddie’s own, no doubt. Against his better judgment, Steve accepts it when Eddie offers it to him. He was just so goddamn thirsty.

“Don’t worry, they’re all fine. They were just shaken up. I’ll radio the little gremlins and give ‘em the good news in a sec.” Eddie’s smile falters a little, seeming lost for words. Like he wants to say something, but can’t quite get it out.

Steve finishes swallowing his few, meager gulps of water before he asks, “What is it?”

“Don’t freak out—“ Eddie begins.

And, okay, that’s exactly the thing you tell someone before they freak the fuck out. Steve’s stomach is subject to a growing, sluggish panic. “What? Dude, tell me—“

“It’s your hair.” Eddie seems genuinely pained at having to deliver this crushing of a blow to Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.

Steve can hear the beeping from the monitors he’s hooked up to begin to pick up speed as his heart begins racing. “My hair?”

“It’s okay! It’s okay, it’ll grow back! They just had to take a little bit off where the stitches went, you can hardest notice it—well, that’s a fucking lie, you could spot that landing strip from space—but I think if you part it to the other side it won’t look so… y’know.”

“No, dude, I don’t know.” Steve says, eyes wide, brows pinched.

“Like a drunk toddler took a pair of rusty kitchen shears to your mop.” Eddie says, huffing out a nervous sort of laugh.

Steve groans, half due to the bastardization that’s happened to his favorite feature, and half due to the migraine that’s looming on his horizon.

“You’re still pretty, Stevie, don’t worry.” Eddie grins, eyebrows raised, like he’s trying to be cute or something.

That weirdest part is, it’s kind of working.

Steve must have hit his head really, really hard.

The doctors eventually come in and perform all sorts of tests, and he tries his best to comply with them and jump through whatever hoops they make him jump through. He just wants to get the hell out of this hospital bed.

Unfortunately for him, Steve hadn’t exactly aced any of the tests.

In fact, he had failed most of them pretty fucking dismally. He couldn’t remember the date, who the president was, where he lived, couldn’t say the alphabet backwards… although, who the fuck can do that? He stands by that failing grade.

A couple of CAT scans later and it’s clear that Steve’s brain got smacked around a little more than they had originally thought.

Among a pile of other stuff, the thing that sticks out the most to Steve is his diagnosis of something called short term amnesia. They explain it like the past 2 to 3 years has just been wiped from his brain. The last clear thing he really remembers is getting the shit beat out of him by Billy, and then it all sort of gets jumbled. Fragmented. The doctors explain that this is pretty typical for head trauma patients.

He’s a head trauma patient, now.

It’s normal for memories of trauma to link, creating spiderwebs throughout your brain.

Which, that’s great. So when he gets beat up again, there’s always a chance his brain will try and erase his easy, happy years and revert back to a trauma default. Really helpful brain, thank you.

And the thing that sucks the most is that his years after the Billy beat down sound pretty great. Traumatizing, sure, but great. Once the Upside Down shit was locked up, with every scary nightmare fuel monster inside of it, life in Hawkins didn’t sound all that terrible.

He lived with Robin, who’s his best friend, (his ‘platonic soulmate’ even, as she explains it), he’s working a retail job, (also with Robin), and coaches the high school basketball team during the evenings. He’d even been talking with Hopper about joining the force.

Well, he was. Now he’s more or less useless, working full time at re-learning his life, along with a couple of fine motor skills that got glitchy after the fall.

And then there’s Eddie.

Eddie, who’s apparently also his best friend, only their soulmate link isn’t platonic at all.

The strange and weirdly exciting reality was that Steve Harrington had woken up from his 3-day medically induced coma with not only a full fledged relationship, but a boyfriend.

It’s a lot to digest, and part of him still doesn’t even know how to process it, but hearing the stories being told around him, seeing how Eddie is practically living in his and Robin’s two-bedroom apartment, and just… the way Eddie looks at him?

It’s with love—Steve can see it. Feel it. Eddie’s practically vibrating with it.

What’s even crazier is that when Steve looks at Eddie, he feels the exact same way.

It’s like looking at the stars. Steve’s heart skips a beat when those dark eyes of hit him, and Steve wants nothing more than to make Eddie smile—no, better than that, to make him laugh, just so he can watch Eddie’s adam’s apple bob up and down and hear that manic, unhinged cackle. It’s downright delightful. Steve loves being in relationships like this, where it’s all consuming.

Steve may not have the memories of falling in love with Eddie, but he has all the feelings.

No one talks about it with Steve, of course. Maybe they think it’s going to be too heavy for him to process that he’s into dudes now, but Steve isn’t a big dumb baby. Sure, he’s got a pretty severe brain injury, and yeah, alright, it takes him a minute to remember people’s names sometimes, and he has a harder time controlling his emotions, but he isn’t a complete invalid. Only a little bit of one. He’s working on it, dammit.

And Eddie is so painfully, frustratingly patient with him. He never pushes. He’s clearly letting Steve retrieve his memories before he makes a move, because despite his whole outward appearance, Eddie Munson is a goddamn gentleman. He never so much as reaches for Steve’s hands, but Steve can tell by the way their pinkies graze when they watch movies late at night that he wants to.

Steve can tell by the way Eddie teases him, the way he’s there with him through his recovery, that he doesn’t ever make Steve feel stupid when he asks the same questions over and over again, when he cries at the drop of a hat or when he gets sort of confused about the lay out of his apartment—he doesn’t care about that of that.

Because he’s in love with Steve. It’s so painfully romantic, it brings a painful lump to Steve’s throat every time he thinks too much about it.

The two of them are driving to one of Steve’s therapy sessions, Eddie in the driver's seat, Steve in the passengers, listening to a low racket of some kind of heavy metal music. Eddie always keeps the volume low now, for Steve.

He’s just been so intensely good about everything that Steve needs to try and do something good for Eddie in return. He needs Eddie to know that there’s a light at the end of this tunnel that they’re both currently lost in.

“I’m sorry about this, y’know.” Steve says when they finally pull up the building that has ‘Brain Injury Recover Center’ written on the front. So all the boys and girls with scrambled eggs for brains know where to converge.

“Don’t worry about it, man. I work the evening shifts, remember? My days are free.” Eddie explains, and Steve wonders if he’s had to be told this bit of information a couple of times now. Sometimes it takes a few times before something sticks to his brain now. His short term memory is still majorly flighty. But no, Steve remembers that Eddie bartends at a local bowling alley most evenings. He’s gone a few times. Not to bowl, of course—too much hand eye coordination involved—but just to hang out with Eddie. He’s pretty decent at Ms. Pac-Man though.

Steve shakes his head. He knows his mind must have wandered because there’s been a lull where no one’s spoken. Eddie never seems to care about that though. “I don’t mean about the drive. I was talking about… y’know.”

“Wha’dy’mean?” Eddie mumbles as he backs into his parking space, hand on the back of Steve’s headrest.

Steve sighs and decides to just come out and say it: “I mean having your boyfriend forget everything about you and your relationship. I just… that must be really tough.”

Everything in Eddie Munson comes to a jarring halt, hand frozen over where he’s turned to ignition off.

It’s sort of unnerving—Eddie is always moving, fidgeting. Damn near bouncing off the walls. But now it’s like someone hit the poor guy with a freeze ray gun.

Steve chuckles softly as he reaches out and touches Eddie’s arm, giving him a playful jostle, to loosen him up a little, “it’s okay, Eddie. I know. You don’t have to keep going easy on me. I’m gay! Or, bi-sexual. Whatever.” Steve shrugs, “see? Not falling apart. I can handle being in love with another dude. You don’t need to keep babying me.”

The side of Eddie’s mouth twitches into a downturned smile that he seems to be trying to hide.

“I know, I know. Not just any dude.” Steve rolls his eyes, a smile still firmly on his face. He takes Eddie’s hand from the steering wheel, and Eddie seems to watch it go in a detached sort of awe. Steve wonders if Eddie’s proud of him for being so cool with it all. “In love with you.”

“Steve, I don’t think—

“Wait, just let me finish.” Steve asks, and Eddie blinks and works on closing his mouth. Knows it’s important to let Steve get his thoughts out quickly, lest they be lost to the giant black hole inside of his beat-up brain now. “I know that I don’t remember any of the important stuff with us. Our first date, or our first kiss or, y’know, any of our other first firsts. So maybe it feels like you’re cheating on the old Steve with me? But… Eddie, I know it’s crazy but even though my brain forgot all of the specifics; my heart didn’t. I look at you, and it’s all there. I’m still so into you, dude. I can feel it, even though I don’t remember how I got here. I’m in l—“

“Steve! Stevestevesteve wait, holy shit—!” Eddie’s eyes snap up from his intense stare at the place where their hands are linked. “Steve—”

“Yeah?” Steve prompts when Eddie doesn’t seem to be able to find the words. He runs his thumb gently over Eddie’s knuckles. It feels so nice to finally be able to hold his hand again. They fit together so well, and Steve wonders briefly if it’s some kind of muscle memory.

Eddie opens his mouth a few more times before he remembers how to make the words come out.

“Steve. Buddy. We’re… we’re not dating.”

Steve’s face falls, and he can feel a lump form in his throat, but he keeps a firm hold of Eddie’s warm hand in his own. “Yeah, I know, I know. We haven’t had any time to be a couple. And it’s probably been torture for you, man. You’re so busy taking care of me and making sure I don’t freak out over everything that you’ve clearly been neglecting your own hierarchy of needs.”

Eddie raises a brow.

Steve chuckles, “Shut up. It’s a therapy term.”

Eddie laughs in his throat. “Steve, you gotta slow down and listen to me.”

He turns his shoulders so that he’s fully facing Steve while he reaches his free hand over and tugs at one of his earlobes. “Got your hearing ears on?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he nods just the same.

“We… we weren’t dating before your accident,” Eddie speaks slowly, his voice warm, gentle. “Hell, I didn’t even know you were, y’know, into dudes like that. Much less me.”

Something throbs dully behind Steve’s eyes. It’s the start of a migraine—the one that makes it hard to process much of anything. Steve squints, trying to make sense of what Eddie’s saying. “…you’re not my boyfriend?”

Eddie shakes his head very, very slowly. “No.”

Steve snatches his hand back like he’s only just now noticed how burning hot Eddie’s hand is.

He settles back in his seat, staring out the front window. The sounds from the outside world are muffled, and everything feels far away and sort of… Made up. Just like everything he’d imagined was going on between him and Eddie. Not real.

He feels painfully detached from reality. Unmoored. Maybe this was the disassociation thing the doctor mentioned might happen…

“Are you sure?” Steve asks, risking another glance over to Eddie, who hasn’t taken his eyes off him for a second.

“Pretty fuckin’ sure.” Eddie snorts.

“Oh, God. This is… I’m—sorry. I’m so stupid. Fuck, I gotta—“ Steve suddenly attacks the door handle with a clumsy fury that has his hand fumbling with the handle for way too long. Fucking busted up, bruised as fuck fucking brain-!

“Steve, it’s okay, dude,” Eddie says from behind Steve, but that’s easy for him to say; he didn’t just humiliate himself in front of his not-boyfriend, definitely-crush, possibly ex-friend—“Steve, wait!”

Steve flees the van on unsteady feet, not daring to look back.

[thecoolsquirrel]

timeskip (?) 🥺

[bludgeon-alt]

hey, so, i've been a wilbur fan for ages, and i want to see the evidence against him. this isn't sarcasm or anything, i just genuinely want all the evidence so i can make a decision

Sure! I got you covered, anon. No shame in deliberating on the evidence yourself. I'll link you a few posts.

This is a good master post, but I will provide a few additional sources:

Shelby's Stream

A Follow-Up Tweet by Shelby

Additional Corroberating Statements From Former Lovejoy Trumpeter, Zoe

Statements From Admin of Wilbur's (unofficial) Discord

Statement From Julie Verlintox (Wilbur head mod/admin)

Clip of Shelby Talking More About Her Story on Lexie's Stream

Addition Piece of Potential Evidence Submitted by an Anon: Wayback Machine Archive of a Reddit Post Likely Made by Shubble in November; Mirrors Her Stream Statements

Additionally, both Smajor and Ranboo have unfollowed Wilbur. Make of all that what you will!

EDIT (3/27/24): Wilbur responded.

Shelby's Response to Wilbur's Response

Aimsey's Response to Wilbur's Response

Ranboo's Response to Wilbur's Response

Lexie's Response to Wilbur's Response

Punz's Response to Wilbur's Response

Tubbo's Response to Wilbur's Response

And many, many more.

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Pairing: Rex x Jedi!Reader / Rex x fem!reader

Tags/Warnings: romance, angst, action/adventure, hurt/comfort, themes of grief/death/mourning, strangers to friends to lovers, mutual pining, forbidden romance, eventual smut, named!reader, minor Obi-Wan x Reader

Summary: Your entire life, you’ve struggled to be the perfect Jedi your Master saw in you. When the rumored rise of the Sith threatens to throw the entire galaxy into turmoil, you’re left scrambling to hold onto the teachings that have begun to feel increasingly hollow. It isn’t until a fateful encounter with a clone soldier called Rex, and the feelings that he stirs within you, that you begin to question everything you’ve ever known. (Post!TPM → Post!Order 66)

A/N: This is definitely a first for me, but I’ve been obsessed with this idea for a while and needed to get it out. I have about 22 chapters written so far, and I think it’ll be 40ish total? Plenty of drama, action, yearning, and some humor to come. Rex will show up soon, gotta set the stage a little first.

If you’d like to be notified when I post new chapters please join my taglist or leave a comment. There’s a new question for tag preferences now. 💙

Chapter One: Everything Burns

Chapter WC: 3,741

Next Chapter | Join the Taglist | Masterlist

Naboo, 32 BBY

They waited until nightfall to light the pyre.

The light, the heat of it, was nearly too much to bear, but you forced yourself to keep your eyes forward. To watch as the flames climbed higher and higher, smoke licking the top of the dome, ash and embers drifting like the stars overhead, as the body of Master Qui-Gon Jinn turned to dust.

You feel something burning within your own chest and press a fist against it. The pain of losing a friend, of watching his body go up in smoke and flame, was one you'd known too well before, and would likely know again, many times over.

It still hurts.

Through the flames, you can just make out the shape of the young man across from you. Obi-Wan. He'd barely spoken since his Master's death at the hands of that Sith. Had barely even met your eyes. It's as if he's shut down completely, his emotions all carefully tucked away, locked behind a door, hidden deep beneath the surface.

Your eyes meet briefly, and you can see the tears on his cheeks, glistening in the firelight.

A part of you aches for him, and for yourself, too. For the pain of the loss, and the uncertainty of what would come next. You knew from your Master that Qui-Gon had tried to warn the Council about the Sith, but that they had refused to listen. What will happen now, you wonder, that the Sith had returned? Will the Jedi accept the truth?

As you look away, you see Obi-Wan do the same. His gaze drifts to the ground, his hands curled into fists at his sides. The boy standing silent next to him notices and puts a hand on his arm. Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon's new Padawan, now Obi-Wan's responsibility.

When you hear Obi-Wan sniffle, you force your feet to move. Ignoring the watchful eyes of the Council members in attendance, your own noticeably absent, you slowly round the pyre until you're on his other side where he can't see you. You stand there, close enough to feel the heat from the flames, but not so close as to be uncomfortable.

"It wasn't your fault," you tell him quietly.

Your fingers brush his. You don’t expect him to return the gesture, and he doesn’t. Not for several long, agonizing moments. And then you feel it, his fingertips, brushing yours.

Your eyes dart toward him, but he's still looking away. Still, his hand shifts, his palm pressing against yours. The only sign that he is acknowledging your presence at all, the only sign he feels anything beyond the nothingness he forces himself to affect.

You’d always believed Obi-Wan to be infallible, perfect in the eyes of the Order, the perfect student. The perfect Jedi. He's always been two steps ahead of you, two steps ahead of everyone, always a witty quip at the ready, always knew the answer when called on, always followed the rules, always the one you admired the most. Even now, he's trying so hard to stay calm, to be the perfect Jedi.

You’d argued about it, before he left for Naboo. He had accused you of being jealous. He'd been right.

You envied his natural skill, his ability to stay cool and collected even when you couldn't. He was so calm, so rational, everything a Jedi was supposed to be, everything you were not, and you had let it get in the way. You had let it push you further apart, until you had lost the closeness you'd once shared.

It wasn’t until he left, until you heard about the death of his Master, that you realized just how badly you'd misjudged him. He is not infallible. He is not the perfect Jedi. He is not, despite all appearances, the ideal of calm. He is only a man, doing his best, doing what he believes is right, and failing, just like the rest of you. And though you had tried, you had never really succeeded at staying mad at him, either.

Now, standing beside him, you want to comfort him, to hold him and tell him that everything will be okay. But it isn't true. It won't be. Because nothing will ever be okay again, not after this.

So instead, you just stand there, letting your hand rest in his, and you try to think of anything else you could say.

The funeral comes to an end, and the pyre is left to burn itself out. You allow yourself to watch as the fire dies down, until nothing remains but a pile of ashes. The others are leaving, the Council members going off together to no doubt discuss what was to come next. You don’t see your Master among them. Her small form is nowhere to be seen, and you can't help the pang of betrayal you feel at her absence.

Where was she? Yaddle had told you she'd be here. She'd promised.

As the last of the flames flickered out, Obi-Wan takes a shuddering breath, and slowly, reluctantly, lets go of your hand.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs.

"For what?"

"I didn't mean what I said, before," he says, finally turning his head to look at you. His eyes are red, and his cheeks are tear-stained, and you wish more than anything that he didn’t have to go through this. "About...about you."

You turn to face him, surprised. You hadn't expected an apology, especially not after so much time had passed. And after what he'd been through.

"Oh." You hesitate, unsure how to respond.

Obi-Wan is already looking away, his eyes on the ashes of the pyre.

"It's fine," you assure him, reaching out to brush his arm, trying to draw his attention back to you. "I shouldn't have...I mean, I did say some things I didn't really mean either."

Obi-Wan looks like he wants to argue, but the words die on his lips. Instead, he nods, and looks away, his expression unreadable.

“I’m sorry about Qui-Gon,” you say quietly.

He flinches. You can see his jaw working, the muscles tensing and releasing, as he clenches his teeth. When he finally speaks, his voice is strained.

"Thank you," he replies, his voice thick with emotion. “He’s part of the living Force now.”

You nod, and look away, down at the ashes. You try to remember Qui-Gon, the light in his eyes, the warmth of his smile, the sound of his voice. You wonder if, somewhere, he is smiling down at his former Padawan. You hope, for Obi-Wan's sake, that he is.

A breeze picks up, rustling the leaves in the trees. Obi-Wan's gaze goes unfocused as he stares into the distance. After a moment, he clears his throat, and looks over at Anakin. The boy is staring into the remains of the fire, a blank look on his face. He must have felt Obi-Wan looking at him, because he turns and meets his eyes.

"We should go," Obi-Wan says, glancing back at you. "Anakin needs rest."

"And so do you," you say, looking pointedly at him.

His lips twitch, not quite a smile, but a hint of one. It fades as quickly as it comes, and he is once again the picture of stoicism, his expression blank and distant.

"Yes, well, I'll rest when I can," he replies. "But not before I see to Anakin."

"I can help, if you need."

Obi-Wan's eyebrows raise, and for a moment you worry you've overstepped. You'd barely spoken in months, and the last thing you want is for him to think you're trying to push yourself back into his life, especially after all the arguing.

But then, to your surprise, he nods.

"That would be appreciated," he says. "Thank you."

The tension between you dissipates. You can see his shoulders relax a bit, his expression soften. For the first time, you can see the fatigue etched on his features, the bags under his eyes, the lines around his mouth. You want to tell him to get some rest, but you can tell by the look in his eyes that it's not going to happen.

"It's no problem," you assure him instead. “I may not be great at being a Jedi, but younglings I can handle."

His mouth quirks upward, but there's a sadness in his eyes, a weariness, that gives you pause.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He shakes his head and sighs. "It's just...I wish we could have talked like this, before."

You watch as the last of the ashes blow away on the breeze, and then look over to Obi-Wan.

"I know. I'm sorry. I was..." You pause for a moment, choosing your words carefully, then you shrug a shoulder. "Well, I wasn't very nice."

"No, you weren't," he agrees. "But I wasn't, either."

You glance over, and catch him smiling faintly, a hint of the Obi-Wan you'd grown up with peeking through the facade. You find yourself smiling, too, a small, sad little smile.

"I suppose we'll just have to be better in the future, won't we?"

Obi-Wan hums.

"Perhaps," he replies, but he doesn't seem convinced.

"Master Yaddle said the Council is going to discuss the matter of the Sith," you say. "Maybe we'll know more soon."

Obi-Wan nods, but doesn't say anything. There's a heavy weight on his shoulders, and the lines of his face are drawn tight, as if he is trying very hard to hold himself together.

You feel the urge to reach out, to take his hand and hold it. You can't, of course, not in front of Anakin. It wouldn't be proper. And Obi-Wan, despite the fact that he's only just a few years older than you, is technically a Master now. And not just to a Padawan, but the Chosen One, a prophesized being destined to bring balance to the Force.

So you just stand there, feeling helpless, and wishing you could do something, anything, to make him feel better.

“Where is Master Yaddle, by the way?" Obi-Wan asks, frowning. It's a question you've been asking yourself for hours, and you have no answer.

"I don't know," you admit. "She said she'd be here, but I haven't seen her. She never got on the transport, as far as I know."

Obi-Wan's expression darkens, and he frowns, his brows furrowing. "That's odd."

"It is."

"I can ask Master Windu," Obi-Wan says, nodding in the direction the Council had gone. "Come."

He leads the way through the palace grounds, heading toward the gardens, where the Jedi had been staying since their arrival. You follow, struggling to keeping pace with his long strides. You don't speak, unsure what to say, afraid that anything you might say will ruin the fragile truce between the two of you. 

Anakin falls into step beside you, walking a little faster to keep up. You glance over at him and smile, trying to reassure him. He looks up at you and smiles back.

"Hey," he says. "Who are you?"

"Oh," you glance at Obi-Wan, unsure whether you should answer or not.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan says sharply, looking back at him. "Have some respect."

You nearly smile. Obi-Wan has the authority of a Master, now. It's almost amusing.

"Sorry," Anakin says sheepishly.

"It's alright," you assure him. You tell him your name, and Obi-Wan glances back.

"She is a friend,” Obi-Wan tells Anakin.

"A friend?" Anakin repeats, looking back at you curiously.

"Yes," Obi-Wan says.

"Do friends touch hands, where you're from?"

Obi-Wan chokes, his stride faltering. He shoots a panicked look back at you, his cheeks turning bright red. You bite back a laugh.

"They can,” you say, smiling at Obi-Wan.

His eyes widen, and then narrow, a look of indignation crossing his face. He shakes his head, and looks away.

"Only sometimes," he mutters, and speeds up, his robes billowing out behind him.

You can't help but grin, and, seeing the look on your face, Anakin smiles too. You reach over and give his shoulder a squeeze.

"Welcome to the Order, Anakin."

"Thank you."

As the doors to the small chamber the Council has temporarily taken over comes into view, Obi-Wan finally slows down. You catch up easily, falling in step beside him. Anakin hangs back, staying just behind.

"I'm sorry about that," Obi-Wan says apologetically, glancing over. "He's still learning."

"Don't worry about it." You hesitate, but can't help but add, "Though I'm surprised you admitted we're friends."

He looks down, and clears his throat. "Well, we are."

"Are we?"

He glances at you.

"I'd like to think so," he says softly.

You smile. "Me, too."

He gives a little nod, his lips pursed, and then turns back to the door. It opens automatically, sliding apart with a hiss.

Inside, the Council members are seated in a circle, all facing the center of the room, where Obi-Wan and Anakin now enter. Master Yoda and Master Windu are among them, their faces serious. The conversation they were having stops immediately, and the attention of everyone in the room falls on the newcomers.

There are a few whispers, some of the Jedi leaning close together to discuss whatever they are about to say. Then, one by one, each member turns to look at you.

“Master Kenobi, Padawan Anathorn," Master Windu says, and his tone is not exactly welcoming. "To what do we owe this intrusion?"

"I apologize for the interruption, Masters," Obi-Wan begins, bowing his head. "But we were wondering if you had any information on Master Yaddle. We were told she'd be at the funeral, but we haven't seen her."

"Ah," Master Windu exchanges a look with Master Yoda, who leans forward, resting his elbows on his gimer stick.

"On Coruscant, Master Yaddle remains," the old master explains. "Resigned from the Council, and from the Order, she has."

You feel as though someone has just punched you in the stomach. Resigned? Why would she resign, without saying anything to you?

"What?"

The question escapes your lips before you can stop it, loud and unbidden, and every head in the room turns to look at you. You feel the blush rise on your cheeks, and quickly duck your head.

"Apologies," you say quickly before looking back up. "But...why?"

"Why, indeed," Yoda repeats. "Concerned, we all are. But the choice, Master Yaddle has made."

“She didn’t tell me,” you whisper, feeling your stomach twist. You can feel the eyes of the Council on you, judging, questioning, wondering why she would choose you as her apprentice, why she would even choose you, when the others were so much better suited.

And the truth was, you had asked yourself that very question many times.

Master Yaddle is the closest thing you have to a mother. You'd thought she'd believed in you, wanted you to take the trials to become a Knight. But if she'd left the Council, if she'd resigned without even telling you, perhaps she was tired of dealing with you, tired of the responsibility of raising you. Perhaps she was done.

"I see," Obi-Wan replies slowly, but his eyes are on you, watching you carefully.

"Anything else, have you, Master Kenobi?" Yoda asks.

"No, Masters," Obi-Wan answers. "Forgive us."

He bows, and takes a step back. You stay rooted to the spot, your feet unwilling to move.

"Master Yaddle did not come?" you ask, your eyes moving from Master Yoda, to Master Windu, and then to the rest of the Council, all watching you intently. You feel a sudden, irrational fear grip your chest, a feeling like ice water running down your spine. Something was wrong, you were sure of it. Something was terribly wrong.

“She cared for Master Jinn, she wouldn’t—“

“Her choice it was, Padawan. Her choice, it is. Accept her resignation, we will, and move on. No choice do you have, in this matter."

You swallow the lump in your throat, and bow, your eyes burning.

"Yes, Master," you manage. "Forgive me."

“Before her resignation, Master Yaddle put forth a recommendation for you to take the trials,” Master Plo Koon speaks up. Despite the modulator of his rebreather, you hear a note of concern in his voice, and it does nothing to alleviate your own.

Your heart skips a beat, and you turn to stare at him.

"She did?"

"Yes."

"Oh," you say, stunned. You hadn't known that. Yaddle had always said you weren't ready, that you weren't prepared. Why would she recommend that you take the trials now, if not to prove a point, to get you out of her hair, so she could leave in peace?

"The decision, the Council will make. Discuss the matter, we will, once matters with the Sith are settled. For now, your focus, keep on your training."

"Yes, Master."

"Master Kenobi, young Anakin," Master Yoda looks past you, to Obi-Wan and his new Padawan, "rest, the both of you must. A long day tomorrow, you have."

"Thank you, Master Yoda."

Obi-Wan glances at you, and then nods at the Council. His hand finds your shoulder and gently, but firmly, steers you toward the door. It opens automatically, and the three of you exit, back into the garden.

"Anakin, go on," Obi-Wan says, letting go of you as the door slides shut behind you. "Wait for me in our quarters, please. I need to speak with my friend."

"Okay."

The young boy nods, and trots off, leaving the two of you alone. As soon as he disappears from view, you slump against the wall, taking a deep, shuddering breath. Your thoughts are swirling, your emotions running rampant.

"Are you alright?" Obi-Wan asks, coming to stand in front of you.

"No," you say, shaking your head. "She didn't tell me, Obi-Wan. She didn't tell me anything."

"I'm sure there's a good reason."

"I don't care!"

You push off the wall and turn away, pacing back and forth, trying to work off some of the nervous energy. Your frustration is growing, and so is the pain, the betrayal, the hurt. You clench your fists at your sides, trying to control your breathing.

"Why would she leave without telling me? Why would she leave the Council now, when we need her the most? When I need her the most?"

"She must have had a reason," Obi-Wan insists, but you can tell he's not certain of his words.

"A reason?" You stop and turn to look at him, your anger suddenly turned toward him. "And what if that reason is that she's tired of me? What then?"

"That's not it," Obi-Wan says, frowning.

"How do you know?"

He hesitates.

"Well?"

"I..." He sighs, and runs a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. You can see the stress, the worry etched in the lines of his forehead. His eyes are bloodshot, and there are dark circles under them, and you suddenly realize that he's not in any better shape than you are.

"I know because I know her, and I know you," he says, his voice a little strained. "If Master Yaddle left the Council, there is a reason. And if she recommended you to take the trials, it's because she thinks you are ready."

"And how can I be, without her guidance? How can I do this, if she's not here?"

You take a shaky breath, and turn away again. You're on the verge of tears, and you're afraid if you look at him, you'll break down. You don’t want him to see you cry, not now, not when he's just lost his own Master, not when the whole galaxy seems to be going to shit.

"I can't do this alone," you whisper.

Obi-Wan crosses the distance between you, and puts his arms around you, pulling you against his chest.

"You're not alone," he says softly, and his words make the tears spill down your cheeks.

He holds you as you cry, his cheek pressed against the top of your head, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other cradling the back of your neck. You let yourself take comfort in the embrace, the warmth of him, his familiar scent, and his soothing voice, telling you over and over that it will be alright.

It's not true, but you let him say it, anyway.

When the tears have stopped, you pull back, and wipe at your face with the sleeve of your robes. Obi-Wan looks down at you, his expression filled with concern, his eyes filled with worry. You reach up, and brush the pad of your thumb across his cheek, wiping away the moisture there.

"Are you alright?" he asks, reaching up and putting his hand over yours.

"No."

"Would it help if I told you I was scared, too?"

You huff a laugh and pull your hand away, nodding.

"I'm serious," he says, and the smile fades from your lips. You can see the truth in his eyes, and your heart sinks.

"What are you scared of?"

"Of being a Master, of failing. Of disappointing everyone. Of...of the Sith. Of everything that's going to happen now."

"So am I," you admit. "I've never been so scared in my entire life."

"Then I suppose we'll just have to help each other get through it."

"How?"

"I'm not sure yet." He smiles, and reaches out, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. "But I'm willing to try, if you are."

You nod. "Okay."

Obi-Wan takes a step back, his hand falling away from your face. He hesitates, as if he wants to say something else, and then nods to himself, and turns to leave.

"Thank you," you call after him.

He pauses, and looks back, a smile on his face.

"You're welcome," he says, and then continues on his way, heading off to meet his new Padawan.

You watch him go, and hope that whatever happens, the two of you will be able to stick together. That the Sith will not destroy everything you hold dear. Because if they do, then what will be the point of any of it?

As the sun begins to set, painting the sky above the temple red, you turn and head in the direction of your own quarters. Tomorrow, you will train, and hope that the next time the Council meets, they will allow you to take the Trials.

You will train, and meditate, and focus.

Because despite what the Council would lead you and the galaxy to believe, this is far from over.

[premamelody]

derg

[humming-fly]

Happy to report I have finally started listening to Malevolent and to no one's surprise I am already obsessed (I'm almost done with s2 atm please don't send me spoilers yet sdlkfj)

I'll skip over my usual formality of having one normal art post before diving into shitposts let's not waste anyone's time here

[urhoneycombwitch]

roommate!Eddie fic in which he gets a drunk call from you and picks you up and you feel some type of way about it fic is coming along

[beedalee]

Meet the Artist 2024! I'm Bee, and I will be your host ✨

On a whim, I made a new 'meet the artist'… but it became such an illustration that it felt quite odd putting so much text all over it! So I kept it simple. For further reading:

Some major art influences of mine include Mia Ikumi, Naoko Takeuchi, CLAMP (esp the Rayearth era), Yoshihiko Umakoshi (specifically his Precure and Doremi work), Kira Imai, and Chiho Sato.

My tools are still generally paper & ballpoint and/or sai2. I've been drawing quite a lot offline, actually... it's just a matter of time before some of it starts to make its way up here. I just need to scan and sort things out, which I've become quite lazy about... This summer's been just gross and melting away all my willpower. Hopefully it'll start easing up now!

Anyway, that's all for now, thank you for looking ✨

August 30, 2024

[scarycranegame]

anyone else do this?

antis dni, what you have there is an unwarranted sense of self-righteousness, not anything of real value

proship/comship/pro-fiction safe!

[choices-and-voices]

Quotes from Kieran that straight-up sound like Shakespearean love poetry: a comprehensive list

‘None may touch me. None but you.’

‘What is left of my heart belongs to you. When you leave, it will shatter anew.’

‘Tell me I did not hurt you.’

‘How am I expected to pass another century without the taste of you on my tongue?’

‘After so many decades spent hating each sunset, knowing nightfall would take my freedom from me... I began to yearn for the moonrise instead of cursing it. Because dreams of you might be waiting on the other side.’

‘I would rather be cursed to roam the wilds as a beast every night than live endless lifetimes without you.’

‘Wherever it is that souls may go, you will find mine waiting for you at the end of all things.’

‘You shall pay dearly for every spilled drop of her blood.’

‘I was not lying. Were you?’

‘Just this once, beloved... I wish you could not lie.’

‘You hold all of my heart, beloved. Now, and always.’

‘I would make and unmake the world for you, beloved.’

‘Believe me when I say I want every part of you. Every version. Now and future.’

‘Look, beloved. Your skin is a canvas covered in stars.’

‘If I were you, I would begin by thanking her and throw yourself on her continued mercy. Because you’ll get none from me.’

‘What would be the point of immortality without you?’

‘No magic. Like an everyday mortal.’

‘Insult her again, and I will carve my refusal into your flesh, so that you may never forget it.’

‘I don’t care what your title is. Every breath, every beat of my heart belongs to you. You are mine for life.’

‘Thank you… for sharing the sky with me.’

‘If you lay a single hand on her, there will be nothing left of this place but a hole in the ground.’

‘Let us live in this moment long enough that I may love you the way you deserve.’

‘I will let nothing separate us… I shall always find you. Your heart calls to mine in a language beyond words.’

‘For you I would set worlds aflame, tear the sun and moon from the sky. I did not live before I met you.’

‘Perhaps you are the most courageous of all, for choosing to live among us. A mortal among gods.’

‘Welcome home, beloved.’

‘You helped me find peace in my grief. I will always help you find peace in yours.’

‘You sacrifice too much for me, beloved.’

‘I cannot give you my heart. It already belongs to someone else.’

‘There will always be tasks vying for our attention. But you are more important to me than any of them.’

‘I like being in here. I always want you to have the freedom of a place to call your own… and it means everything, that you welcome me in.’

(And finally, BONUS: Quotes from *other* characters in The Cursed Heart that straight-up sound like Shakespearean poetry, because the writers of this book just do. not. rest.)

‘I know you. I’m not afraid.’

‘I love him so terribly, it hurts.’

‘You are so much stronger than you know. And a love as strong as this is worth fighting for.’

‘Even if you kill me, I’m glad I met you. Because you deserve to be happy. You deserve to be loved. And I will love you until my very last breath.’

‘The world is rarely gentle to those who are so kind. It is you who must be the strongest of all.’

‘What do you want with that cursed thing?’ / ‘To cut the Sun and the Moon from the sky.’

‘Anything here that wishes to eat me had best prepare to choke.’

‘I know you. And I love you. Both your darkness and your light.’

‘You are everything I want. Just you. Just like this.’

‘If love could forestall death, we would all be immortal.’

‘All stories end. Even ours. That’s what makes them beautiful.’

‘I don’t care where I sleep, so long as it’s beside you.’

[the-real-list-of-ominous-threats]

Happy Valentines Day, someone please take my evil-hot-men brainrot bc these characters are fr ruining my brain. Yes this is a threat, you WILL take my brainrot.

[thelunarsystemwrites]

Oops-

I accidentally became moots with a lot of cool undertale/UTMV artists-

*inhale*

@nobodys-reblogs Like, you were my first idol on here that I befriended 🥺 AND NOT BECAUSE YOU WERE MY IDOL- you legit just seemed cool, and I am very VERY grateful each time I see '#friend tag' with you!! I also love your style, it gives a sense of comfort because of the shades you normally use!! (<- psstt I also like your doors content!)

@inka-boi I love the way you draw chubby and plus sized people, literally helped with my own drawings of different body types! You're also super nice. And well, my mum—I love the purple yarn family, I live for the purple yarn ship, you're super sweet!

@zombiestar1934 Uhm, yeah—Yoink. Your art is very yoinkable, VERY HUGGABLE!! Looks like it was drawn in a library, where you had the peace of only hearing your drawing tablet make 'lil clicks! I love the hearts you add to blush, and the smiles you give them! Yet you're just as capable of making angst, and I love Angst :3

@absurdumsid I want to hug all, and I mean ALL your drawings. ESPECIALLY horrorpills, I love the clean look they all have, I love looking at your art, and I just- aghghgh your so cool!!

@italic-doing-random-shit man you're just very awesome, idk how the hell I manged being moots w/ you but I'm vibing with it, your art is like, yum. It gives me, hm... Oh! Okay it gives me animatic vibes, like you'd be a good animator! /pos!

@inkcat1987 AWE. JUST AWE—I love how sweet your style is, and I'm especially liking the middle school AU!! Once again, soft as angel wings!

@axinfinity there's just- there's something so HOLDABLE about your art! I just wanna pick it up and protect it!

@ant1quarian ah yes, a fellow UTMV enjoyer who collects a very specific sans, that being Dust in your case! /vpos. Your style, it's like moss. It has a natural feel, it looks like it'd smell like rain, like feathers and it's so... like this song, The Moss is how I feel when I look at your pfp!

@dzasterdumpterfire Stars. Your art looks like stars, I'm fairly sure the lighting comes from the stars. I dunno it's just kinda mystifying to look at!

@endless-emptyness Your art >>>> Very pleasant to look at. I really enjoy the facial expressions you do!!

@solusminds your art feels like it was crafted in the cozy darkness, illuminated only by a single lantern, while winter blazes outside. It's so nice and warm feeling!

@kiyo-void A lovely painting! All your works feel like they were painted, painted and set in a cool breeze to dry, especially your digital art, and I am LIVING for it! Plussssss Runetale is super cool!

@denieatsart HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE that's how I feel looking at what you make!! I love the kinda like, layered look your art gives!!

@largefound can't say a bad thing about ya, you're cool, your art gives cool feelings, cool vibes everywhere!

Annd... it's late, I can't think of anyone else BUT IF I DO I will ADD YOU to the list!!

UPDATED:

@rushin-safire. Yeah, your art? Feels like it was drawn with a cat in your lap while you've just come home from the Cafe, still sipping on your coffee. :3

@nashdoesstuff for the LIFE OF ME I can't figure out how the hell to search your art, hpw am I screwing it up?? But anyways it probably tastes like gummy bears. /pos.

@nightmarish-qeuwusha Your art tastes like cotton candy! I think that your art was woven from candy floss and glittered with stardust! ^^

@analexthatexists Containment! I feel like your art gives off SCP vibes, I feel like I'm some sort of entity when I look at it, and that, is, awesome!

@determinedfanartist okay but like, your art is "I drew this specifically bc I love my friends" and I cannot be convinced otherwise. /pos

@mrfellsans Ah, cartoony. Specifically with that dapper charm to it! I'm talking bendy and the ink machine, I'm talking swing, I'm talking pleasant to look at as you have a modern spin on it!

@the-second-reason your art is that chill older kid, the one that helps ou their younger peers figure out stuff. They're the super relaxed big sibling, your art has a mellow style, gives chill big sibling vibes. :]

@dustsansm1 I mean this in the best way possible, your art feels friendly but has anxiety. And that's okay! Your art gives me like, it wants to be friends w/ someone but too shy to do so. It has a sorta 'I'm trying my best' style, when it's already really good!

@spookuzm cover artist! I feel like you'd do well drawing the characters that you put on the cover of stuff, your art vibes me those vibes! Like it's the peak inside a new world! ^^ Hey side note this changed to comfort artist

@mellybabbles Reflections, your art makes me reflect on myself. What was behind it? Every line you etch into it makes me think, ponder, as if it were drawn from a mirror.

@wickjump ICON. Your art is SUCH an icon, you're RADIATING icon vibes. The colours you use seem to naturally give off a hue to it, giving it that pop! It's beautiful and clean and iconic! ✨️

@hialeisanimation I mean this in the most light hearted way possible—It's just happy. Like your art is the definition of :3 and I am VIBING w/ it, very lovely to look at!

@joonebugg your art has PERSONALITY, like they don't take shit from anyone. Like looking at it, feels like they'd be the decals for a 1970s diner and they're like the characters, they work too hard to take orders from ungrateful customers. THAT'S what your style looks like to me.

@milkybnnuy so your style (especially when you draw Fell!NM) is so dark and radiates that dark energy and pretty pretty please I need more angst- /pos (edit: dear cod I got that angst)

@bluu3berry - you really utilize shades of colour really well, I think you've done a wonderful job with Bluu!! /Gen! I think your style really reminds me of an older cartoon with their softer colours, like Charlie brown! And, I love Charlie brown!

@hiro-doodlez - Your art uses ALL of your canvas to your advantage! Like rarely have I ever seen you draw something and leave a blank space, which also helps you create a ton of interesting shading! I like how you draw over colours w/ other colours, so your base colours helps the top layer—Does that make sense? ^^ like, your style is very out there! Very you, very recognizable!

@dustbvnnyy Y2K INVADER ZIM like it's awesome, your artstyle gives me y2k alt vibes!! I love the soft saturated (is that a thing? ^^') colours that go into your pieces!!

@murder-clown-around-town fun!! I saw your pinned post and from what you drew IT LOOKS SO FUN!! Like a balloon animal!! I like how the lines overlap and create a structure!! :D

@miracle-negative soft and heavenly! Your art, even using a darker pallet is soft and smooth!!

@yellow-computer-mouse it's quite relaxed! I like the shading you did on that smoking Dust picture! ^^

@eco-systeme royal! You have a very royal, a very fancy looking style to me!! Like, someone paid you a good amount to draw it! I hope you forever remain creative, love your art!

@wishtale-blogs spring vibes!! Absolutely beautiful spring, butterflies, meadows and more!! I LOVE MONARCH I've literally never seen orange and pastels work well like yours does!!!

@swiftmitsu YOOO MY FIRST FRIEND MADE ON DISCORD!!! I'd like to say I'm a huge fan of your artstyle! It's a good mix between adorable, but can be taken seriously if the tone demands it! This is a hard skill to acquire, because a lot of adorable art can be hard to feel the wanted emotions conveyed — But you found just the right balance! I always look forward to you posting! ^^

@cocopebblez Detailed and stylish! I look at your art and go WOAH, I look at your sona and they're STUNNING, I look at you and I see cameras flashing as paparazzi tries to get your photo as you strut down the red carpet. So fame worthy is how I perceive your art!! And fame in the future I see!

@underfaithangelz welcome to the wall! I see your art has a very lantern vibe! Using this as my reference! I love how you can use low lighting and still make everything perfectly visual! It gives it a warm glow! I think your style is like fire, with all the intricate brush marks like flames! Beautiful and gorgeous just as your voice!

Also, we may not be moots—But honourary mention to @somegrumpynerd you're my comfort artist, I go searching for Dadmare if I'm down and I find your art—I love how it just looks like the embodiment of Marshmallows. I love how you draw each and every scene you've made, the emotions you convey even if it's supposed to just be a silly post! Just ahhhhhh I love looking at what you make!!

Have a good day, night, evening, morning, or whatever time it is for you guys!

[matchingbatbites]

Love Grows - Part 1

This is my take on teen dad Steve! It was just supposed to be a ficlet, but the word count is currently hovering at 4k and I'm not done, so this will be going up in parts. <3

Ao3 | Part 2

February '85

The rumors have been flying for weeks. It only took one cheerleader to see Steve Harrington out and about with a baby and soon enough the news was all over the school. Nevermind that no one else has even seen said baby, but just the one accusation is enough to send the rumor mill into production.

It's something that had piqued Eddie's interest, but he quickly attributed it to teenagers spreading drama, a fiction created for their own entertainment. That is, until the day Harrington shows up to school with the baby.

The halls are buzzing, more so than usual, and it only takes until second period for Eddie to realize why. The entire class breaks into whispers when Steve walks in with a baby carrier in one hand, a piece of paper in the other, and a diaper bag slung over his shoulder. The paper goes to the teacher, who reads it before saying something to Steve, and Eddie is so curious but unable to hear anything over the chatter in the room.

Eddie can’t take his eyes off Steve for the rest of the class. He watches as the carrier finds a home on the floor, right by Steve’s desk, and Eddie has a perfect view of the little, rosy-cheeked baby girl from his seat two rows behind Steve (at least, Eddie’s assuming it’s a girl. The blanket tucked around her is a soft pink, so-). He sees every time Steve leans over to check on her, sees how her big eyes flick up to look at him, how she smiles around the pacifier in her mouth. 

It makes Eddie go all gooey inside; he's always loved kids, always hoped to find a guy who is good with them, and seeing Harrington being so attentive only increases the low-key crush he has on the other guy (he knows it’s a little pathetic, but Steve is very attractive, and Eddie is very gay, sue him). When the class ends, Eddie gathers his stuff slowly so he has an excuse to hang back a little and watch Steve interact with the baby some more, but soon enough the younger is also packed up and out the door.

Eddie doesn't see Steve again until later that day, when he's skipping out on 5th period and hears a baby crying as he passes by a closed classroom door. He peeks in through the window and sees Harrington pacing slowly while holding the baby against his shoulder, one arm supporting her from the bottom as his free hand rubs circles into her back. 

For a moment Eddie thinks about walking on, about just leaving Steve alone as he comforts his wailing child, but the cries pull hard on Eddie's heartstrings and he finds himself opening the door and slipping inside.

"Everything okay?" he asks, and Steve looks up in surprise before his expression shifts into something unreadable. 

"Yeah, we're fine. She's just extra fussy because she's teething. I came in here because I don't want to disturb anyone else." 

Eddie hums and goes to the nearby diaper bag, starts digging through it and is surprised when Steve doesn't tell him to stop. He finds a little bottle of numbing gel and smears some onto his pinky before sliding it into the baby's still wailing mouth, and carefully rubs it over her gums as he coos at her. 

"I know, honey, it hurts so bad. It's gonna be okay, though, just you wait." 

He glances up to see Steve staring at him, his expression curious, and Eddie suddenly feels overexposed. 

"My last neighbor had two jobs and three small kids, so I have a little experience with babies," Eddie explains, needing to fill the sudden silence that falls as the baby calms. His finger is still in her mouth, and he feels no desire to remove it, especially once she starts gnawing on it gently. Steve glances down at his girl before giving Eddie a soft smile, and Eddie's heart flips in his chest. 

"That's more than I have, at least. Thanks." 

"No worries, man. What, uh- what's her name?"

"Rosemary," Steve says, humming when the baby makes a soft noise. "At least, that's what I'm changing it to, as soon as I'm able." 

The warmth that had settled in Eddie's stomach sours a little at Steve's declaration, and as he pulls his finger from the baby's mouth he can't help biting out "And her mom is okay with you changing her name?" 

The atmosphere in the room changes as Steve's face crumbles, and Eddie knows he's said something wrong. 

"Her mom didn't want anything to do with her," Steve replies softly, and oh no, Eddie instantly feels like a piece of shit. He'd heard the rumors that some girl had just dumped the baby on him, but he didn't think they were true. 

"Shit, I'm so sorry, man. I didn't mean to assume anything." 

"It's okay. No one really knows about the whole… situation." 

There's an awkward pause before Eddie asks "So, Rosemary. Your choice wouldn't happen to be inspired by a certain Edison Lighthouse song, would it?" He smiles when Steve blushes, the pink dusting his face so sweetly as he shrugs. 

"It was my grandma's favorite song, and a lot of my happy memories are with her, so... I've already started calling her Rosie, so she'll be used to it." 

"It’s a good name," Eddie hums, rubbing his thumb over Rosie's tiny eyebrow. "She's a cute kid, Harrington."

Steve mutters a soft “Thanks,” and then there’s a brief pause before he asks "Do you- do you want to hold her?" and Eddie doesn't even hesitate before nodding and giving a quick “Yes!”

He takes off his jacket and vest in one go, knowing the fabric is a little rough, and takes the baby when Steve offers her to him. He holds her close, one hand supporting her and the other resting on her back, and starts to sway a little. "I haven't held a baby in like, two years. I forgot how calming it is." Steve hums and smiles as he sits on a nearby desk. “Yeah, it is.”

They spend the rest of the time just talking about whatever comes to mind, and it's really fucking nice. Eddie learns about the gaggle of kids Steve babysits ("They're all shitheads, but I love them, even when they're using me as a chauffeur.") and Eddie talks a little about his own friends, his band ("I mean being famous is the end goal, but it's also just fun to get together and be creative just for the sake of it, you know?") and before they know it, the bell is ringing to signal the end of the period. 

Steve frowns, a cute pout that tugs on the corners of his mouth, and Eddie has to bite back a smile at the expression. He sets a now sleeping Rosie back into her carrier before shrugging on his jacket and vest, and hesitates for a moment. 

"Listen, Harrington. I know that we don't really know each other, but I've seen firsthand how tough this single parent shit can be, so. If you ever need a hand, or need someone to watch her so you can get shit done, you can ask me, yeah? No worry, no judgment."

Steve blinks at him, big hazel eyes flicking between Eddie's like he's making an insight check against Eddie's words. He must like what he finds, because he smiles softly and says "Thanks, Munson."

And Eddie shrugs, and smiles in return. "Call me Eddie, man."

[the-letterbox-archives]

about tag lists - update!

alright, so the poll came back, and it was very close win for no (keep so i can be alerted to posts), with yes (i will find the content regardless) close behind. this has posed a dilemma to me - my original reservations about holding a tag list are still relevant, but so are my concerns about engagement.

BUT! the amazing and intelligent @gioiaalbanoart suggested something i view as a way to get the best of both worlds. to stop flooding people with tags and getting random hollow likes due to obligation, but remind those who are interested in the archives of new content, @.gioiaalbanoart proposed a newsletter of sorts!

the way i'm picturing it is i'll collect a master tag list of whoever wants any kinds of story or tag game updates and release a fortnightly newsletter of anything i see relevant enough to advertise and remind people of! stuff like chapter updates, significant tag games, archival updates, and maybe small bits of exclusive content (suggestions open for that)! so i'd like to ask whether that's a good idea or not - if you have other ideas please don't hesitate to bring them to my attention! this would replace my normal tag lists, and though it would be a fortnightly update (well. i'll try ;-;), i believe it could declutter people's dashes and get information out!

so... another poll! (i am clinically obsessed with polls it's an illness-)

@wyked-ao3, @48lexr, @thecrazyalchemist, @moltenwrites, @yourpenpaldee,

@glassfrogforest, @the-golden-comet, @gioiaalbanoart, @drchenquill, @paeliae-occasionally,

@tc-doherty, @corinneglass, @mysticstarlightduck, @thecomfywriter, @thelovelymachinery,

@kind-lion, @leahnardo-da-veggie, @an-indecisive-nerd, @honeybewrites, @loverboyxbutch

[leounderseas]

Just a little late night doodle of my sillies to fill up space

I'm working on stuff!! Figuring out shit in my life but I'm working slowly, have this meanwhile <3💐

[cuntservant]

claudia wrote "fuck these vampires" and daniel thought it was a call to action ❗❗❗