#thanks everyone i love you guys

[beepboopappreciation]

Is this anything

[littlefankingdom]

Bruce Wayne is canonically a very handsome man (he is called a "pretty boy" and he is in his 40s, for fuck's sake), and he is pretty famous as a rich philanthropist who doesn't want to leave his awful cursed crime infested city. So, there must be a ton of people thirsting over him on the internet. Fancams, edits, fanfics and imagines ("kidnapped with Bruce Wayne 😍 by a Gotham rogue"), the whole charade!

And anytime one of the batkids stumbles on a thirst post, they have the most dramatic disgusted reaction, loudly gagging, before sending the link to the batkids chat, because if they must suffer, then they should all suffer. Clicking on a link in this groupchat is like playing russian roulette, and getting rickrolled is a good ending.

[bedpool]

Watching an interview with Hugh and Ryan and the interviewer asks "are you willing to admit that this movie is a romcom" and the next 2.5 minutes is Hugh being silent and Ryan stuttering to finally say "it's a friendcom". Pain

[hierocherry]

not immune to gay knights

[lil-lemon-snails]

decided to draw some of your guys' tags from my harlequin sun and moon post!!! These guys are so much fun and you're all so funny >w<

[maybe-arts]

IT'S DONE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY KIRBY!!!

If you've been following me the last month, you've seen me posting invitations to join Kirby Birthday Collab. Well, as today is 27th, I'm proud to present the result of this collab!!

This collab ended up even bigger than the last year's one. When last year we mainly had only Dream Friends (with some special guests like Morpho, Galacta and Elfilin), this year we've got characters from many more groups, including villains! We've almost left no one behind lol

The image above might be a bit scuffed (anti-AI protection, and all that), but no worries! You can click on it to see full, uncompressed image and see everyone's work that's been put into this!

A HUGE thank you to everyone who participated, and to everyone who wanted but either learned about it too late or didn't manage - don't worry! Looks like this thing might be annual from now on (or until i run out of steam lmao), so you'll get plenty of chances to join next year! Just keep your eyes peeled around March-April :3

And now, everyone who participated in this collab:

@squeak-art - Daroach, Dark Nebula and Squeakers + two bonus polaroids (the one with Nebula and the one with Squeak Squad) @sacrificecage - Hyness and Shadow Kirby @aseuki - Sectonia (absolute madlad) @giantchasm - Elfilin, Fecto Forgo + possessed Awoofy and Rick @taranzas-biggest-fan - Taranza and President Haltmann + bonus polaroid with Wave 3 trio and Kirby @sourghostsoda - Dark Meta Knight and Galacta Knight @spidersandtomatos - Zan Partizanne + bonus polaroid with their OC and Zan @kachikirby - Samus Aran and Francisca + bonus polaroid with Samus @eleart - Meta Knight @azumetapraline - Magolor @tinybandee - Sailor Dee and UFO @a-stardusted-sky - Landia @mementomarx - Morpho Knight @xxmooncheetosxx - Ribbon @rosakikoza - DMS and Zero @hascaple - Chuchu @deafeninggardenerpanda - Void and Arthur (also special thanks for allowing me to organize it on his server that i've been advertising all this month lol) @pixbit - Prince Fluff @eryth-arts - Susie and Flamberge @deefighter2739 - Bandee @skitty-kirby - Sword and Blade Knights @hoshi-no-mahoroa - Coo @diroxide - Fecto Elfilis @starrveria - Tiff @nausylemmyj - Adeline @thecreatorlynne (on Instagram) - Miracle Matter + bonus polaroid with all the Matters @thundermarisol - Pitch, Pick, Mine, Shiro, Nyupun and Pitch Mama @michirikapchiyyy - Falspar and Dragato @galapathy - Nonsurat and Nightmare @wybienova - Clawroline + bonus polaroid with Clawroline @mistilteinn-magolor - Gooey @superskullz64 - Spinni, Doc and Storo @starrysorry - Tuff, Fololo and Falala @tazmilygray - Elline and Keeby @icy-dark-star - Leongar @yokyoaaa - Nago and the Meta-Knights (Axe, Trident, Mace and Javelin Knights) @itsquakey/@chickenhoops - Marx @chibihuey - Drawcia, Claycia and Kine (and colored Nightmare) + bonus polaroid with four Kirbies

and yours truly was the one who combined all of this in a single piece + drew Dedede and main birthday boy himself, Kirby!

[housebite]

hilson episode masterlist

s1e5 damned if you do - house and wilson spend christmas together

s1e10 histories - wilson asks house to treat a patient

s1e18 babies & bathwater - vogler tries to get house removed from the hospital staff

s2e5 daddy's boy - $5000 is exchanged, wilson and house get dinner with house's parents

s2e7 all in - poker night benefit at ppth

s2e16 safe - prank war!

s2e19 house vs god - wilson tries to attend house's poker nights

s3e7 son of a coma guy - road trip and wilson interrogates house about stealing his pad, "maybe i don't want to push this until it breaks"

s3e22 resignation - wilson and house dose each other with ssris/speed

s4e1 alone - wilson kidnaps house's guitar

s4e3 97 seconds - "i love you", house helps wilson out of a funk

s4e12 don't ever change - house tries to break up amber and wilson

s4e16 wilson's heart - angst with a capital "A"

s5e4 birthmarks - wilson drags house to his father's funeral

s5e11 joy to the world - wilson bets house he can't receive a present from a patient

s5e15 the social contract - "does it bother you that we don't have a social contract?", wilson visits his brother

s5e23 "under my skin" - wilson tries to help house figure out his hallucinations

s6e3 epic fail - house tries out some new hobbies, wilson's along for the ride

s6e7 known unknowns - wilson is set to give a speech at an oncology conference

s6e10 wilson - "if you die, i'm alone"

s6e11 the down low - gay chicken

s6e13 moving the chain - house and wilson fight over their bathtub, leading to a prank war

s6e15 private lives - "be not afraid"

s6e16 black hole - house challenges wilson to furnish their apartment himself

s6e21 baggage - house moves out

s8e20 post mortem - wilson forces house out on a road trip

s7e5 unplanned parenthood - wilson and house struggle with babysitting

s7e19 last temptation - chicken bet

s8e2 transplant - house tries to win back wilson's affections

s8e14 love is blind - wilson, house, and house's mom shenanigans

s8e19 the c word - house takes care of wilson

s8e21 holding on - house is desperate for wilson to stay

s8e22 everybody dies - finale

[airborneice]

i think we all know who the REAL star of season 3 is

i'm making a vague attempt to pace out this season by doing a drawing after each episode, so anyway here's my new fave character

[elsecrytt]

Satoru Gojo goes to the same cafe every day for his coffee-flavored confectionary beverage. You are the barista tasked with pumping his drink with the unreasonable assortment of syrup squeezes.

You don't blink at it. You've been in customer service forever. Everything is second nature to you. But you give him a look when you hand him a drink and he just starts going.

He likes to make small chat, you learn. About meaningless things - desserts, drinks, the weather - but he makes you laugh, and he laughs at your jokes, too. He's smiling every time you talk.

He's beautiful - in that way that makes you uncertain if he's really there - and friendly, and he seems a bit lonely, eager to converse.

Something tells you Satoru probably doesn't have a lot of close friends. He's rich, too, judging by the massive tips he leaves you.

The thing is, you do a lot of things on autopilot. It's just the way these things get after a while. Pouring drinks, "What would you like today?", "I'll have that out for you soon!", "Have a nice day!", all that stuff.

Sometimes, though. Sometimes. Wires get crossed.

He's picked up his drink to leave, giving you a cheeky smile and a little wave, and you tell him, without thinking twice:

"Love you, bye!"

Oh. Oh fucking hell -

"Love you too!"

[jpg-of-dorian-slay]

Marauders fans be like “i read AU’s to escape the pain of cannon” and then the AU is the bloody Hunger Games

[goosewizard]

i know coming back right is kinda a silly idea but im thinking about it.

what if ranboo came back, and they came back right?

not physically, of course. god, he looks a decade older and has the exhaustion to match. their skin is marred, mostly scar tissue now, from the explosion, from sam, from the endless ocean of limbo, from crying. tubbo hates that they match now. he’s skinnier, too, as if death took everything but the skin and bones of him. they look more monstrous. theres a new streak of white in his hair. it reminds tubbo of wilbur. it reminds tommy of himself.

but he’s just as kind, he still holds their son with tenderness and sings songs of old to him. he still brushes tubbos hair away with a feather-light touch. they still help techno with the dogs. he still visits tommy. they still grow pink tulips.

their memory is... better. ranboo still loses his house keys and forgets where he was going or what they ate for lunch, but they have every scar on tommy memorized, he knows tubbo like the back of their hand, can recite historical events like a textbook, will never lose track of an important date again.

its all they had in limbo. he didnt want to forget for good.

he's still scared, if they're being honest. scared that their sacrifice was for nothing. scared that his family will be destroyed again and again for the sick pleasure of some fucking guy. scared that he'll be used again. scared that they'll hurt the people they care about again. but for now they're okay, they have a team and a family and a second chance.

ranboo comes back and theyre okay, honestly. they move into the mansion with his husband and child. he thanks techno again and again for saving his son. for saving him. techno doesnt accept the thanks, he should've done more. he talks with tommy about limbo, and about grief. they visit their own graves and they grieve. for one another, for themselves. it washes over them in waves. tubbo still waits for the other shoe to drop, for his husband or himself to turn into a maniac and blow the server to bits, but it doesnt come. it won't come. its not the same, it cant be, but its good for the first time in a long time.

maybe the other shoe doesn’t have to drop. maybe sometimes people can come back and maybe they can be okay.

[toaster-fire-art]

Hi! I got supper busy! and by busy I mean injured.

I'm fine but hey happy trans visiblity day!

totally unrelated but I have just been laying around distracting myself so now I have decided to once again draw a cast line up. All the martial gods for now, since I got to tweaking up the QYZ and YY one I'd already done and redoing my awfully huge poster thing I started like 4 years ago now. Doing it this way is more fulfilling to me, maybe one day I'll return to it but not now.

[jellinuy]

౨ৎ — fluff ending to part 1. wc; 1k.

“…oru…satoru.”

an eye opened. then two. white lashes fluttered around hazy blue irises as the sorcerer began to come to his senses, adjusting the sunglasses that had slid down his nose with a small, ‘hm?’

at the sound of your voice, gojo’s eyes slid around to take in the scenery. but he could’ve sworn you just… wasn't he back at jujutsu high a minute ago? in the infirmary? but instead, the teenager found himself sitting on a bench, his body sheathed in dancing blue artificial light and the passing shadows of ocean creatures behind glass.

the aquarium, he realized, his heart rate spiking. it wasn’t real.

“y/n,” he mumbled slowly, a lazy grin on his face, and never before had gojo been so happy to say your name to you.

“that’s me,” and the full, clear sight of you brings immediate relief — a painkiller for the heartache he’d just endured in his sleep. it was still rattling to him, after all this time, how realistic his nightmares were. he swore he saw the blood soak the pure, ivory sheet that covered you, the paling of your dying skin, the emptiness where your gorgeous, beating heart should’ve been. felt his own heart rip nerve by nerve and his stomach clench into an ugly knot as yaga told him you were “killed in action”: finite, just like that. you were gone.

he’d never been so glad to be awake, to be here, in front of some stupid fish tank, with you. he took in your face as you talk, a worried crease in your brow when you see your reflection in his blue eyes, now glassy. transparent and red-rimmed. vulnerable, if you looked close enough.

“you, um… fell asleep on my shoulder,” you spoke when he didn’t. “you okay? been getting enough sleep?”

oh. that was another thing i loved, he remembered, and it was like his body knew you the way his heart did, as his smile stretched into a pair of dimples. your stupidly big heart.

“…yeah. don’t worry your pretty little head about me,” he assured her, much quieter than regular old satoru gojo would have. cerulean peeked out at you from over his sunglasses and from under his hair, trying to say the words his mouth couldn’t as he rested his head on your shoulder.

call him clingy, but he wouldn’t move for anything right now. feeling you, alive and well and happy against him, that was enough.

knowing you were here was enough.

in an attempt to make small talk, you lifted you arm — the one he wasn’t using as a pillow — to point at a passing beluga whale at the massive tank in front of you both.

“satoru, look, a belu—”

“y/n, i’m in love with you.”

he lied. it wasn’t enough. he didn’t just want to be near you, to be close, yet still at arms length, he wanted to be in your arms. to kiss your face and make you smile at him in a different way than with everyone else. to nap with you on days he didn’t feel like “the strongest”, to be weak around you, to feel those damned butterflies every time he heard you call him “baby.” that was what he wanted — to openly love you, to be loved in return by you and nobody else.

“you… huh?” your hearts pounded in tandem, slamming against your ribs uncontrollably, to the point where it hurt to breathe in the best way possible. “wh… s…say that again?” you must’ve heard wrong, must’ve misinterpreted.

“…said ‘m in love with you,” he repeated, muffled due to his cheek squished against your shoulder. “like, i wanna be a jellyfish with you.”

“…oh.”

“yeah.”

it would be a lie to say that you hadn’t noticed the way your best friend looked at you, the blatantly obvious hearts in all six eyes when he laid them on you, so this wasn’t as unexpected as you made it look.

“…i think,” dry as your mouth was, you still spoke. your eyes weren’t trained on him, but instead at the fish in the life-sized tank, the shadows of passing jellyfish diluting the clear blue luminescence of the waterlogged glass periodically, “i might be in love with you, too.” it came out shakier than you wanted, but you patted yourself on the back for even getting it out at all. and it was true. you came to know him, to appreciate him, to be annoyed by him, to fighting by his side, to wishing you could be there forever, next to him.

in typical gojo fashion, he makes a face. you can’t see it, because he’s still resting on your shoulder, but you feel the indent of his cheek as he pouts. his hand not-so-subtly sneaks down to yours, and he prods your fingers open so he can slide his palm on top of yours. you swear you would’ve fallen over if you weren’t sitting.

“you ‘might’? i just told you i wanna live as a sea creature with you forever, and you ‘might’ like me back?” he mumbles: maybe he spoke clearly, actually — you don’t know, because the only thing in your ears is the pumping of your blood.

the lovestruck idiot pokes at you again — “c’mon, y/n, say it properly.”

his fingers play with yours, scratching your palm gently, tracing hearts into your skin. his head continued to rest on you, and he was ever grateful you couldn’t feel the warmth of his red face through your shirt, the burning of his ears. he’d find some way to make today last forever if he had to, if it meant sitting here next to the best friend he’d come to see as more, just watching fish swim. your hand finally clenched around his, slightly clammy, and clearly nervous, but it was your hand, so he couldn’t care less. and you squeezed his hand and said it right, because if gojo had the right to anything in this world, it was your heart.

“yeah… you’re right… i’m in love with you, satoru. let’s be jellyfish in our next lives.”

@boundedbyfate, @c4ndytr4p, @iluvies, @sad-darksoul, @fayereblogs-4, @ratmilk14, @lovelymimimoo

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part eight; final)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)(part five)(part six)(part seven) (ao3 link)

It was an “if” if Eddie would actually be discharged today, but now, after some more poking and prodding, he's finally on his way home with prescriptions for pain meds and physical therapy. 

Wayne helps him up the three creaky, beautifully familiar stairs into the trailer, and Eddie collapses onto the old, beautifully familiar couch the second he gets inside. The weary groan he lets out is only slightly over-dramatized. “I feel like an 80 year old man,” he complains, entire body sore and aching to the bone already. “Now I know how you feel.”

“Oi, I ain't that old,” Wayne protests. When Eddie snorts derisively, Wayne rolls his eyes and chuckles. “Alright, fine, so we both got creaky knees now. You, at least, will be young and spry again in no time, though,” his uncle tells him. “Just get some rest, old man.” 

Eddie heaves a great big sigh, takes another breath to steel himself, and then does just the opposite of that. 

“What did I just say?” Wayne mutters as Eddie moves to stand again. 

“I said I’d call Steve,” Eddie says. Steve had to go to work, but he'd told Eddie that morning to call him if he ended up making it home today. “I’ll dip out of work and come hang out, help you settle in, if you want,” Steve had said. 

Wayne offers, “I can call him for you.” 

“No, no, I got it,” Eddie insists, words broken by a grunt as he hauls himself back to his feet. “I can make it to the phone, Wayne, I'm not a complete invalid.”

“Alright.” Wayne raises his hands in defeat and backs off. He’s never been one to hover. “You just shout if you need me.” 

Eddie limps - slowly, painfully, with difficulty - to the phone on the wall by the tiny dining table they never use, the surface littered instead with unopened mail and haphazard papers scribbled with notes and reminders and important phone numbers. He leans heavily against the table as he paws through the piles trying to find a note of Steve's number. Eddie finds it buried deep, probably long since memorized by now before his memory got erased, but there it is: a notepad paper with Steve's name scrawled on it and two phone numbers written underneath, home and work. 

“Bingo.” Eddie grabs the paper, takes the phone off the hook, and dials the work number. 

The phone rings a couple times, and then: “Family Video. How can I help you?” 

“Hey, Stevie.” Eddie smiles at the sound of his voice, as if he hadn't literally just heard it only a few hours ago. 

“Eddie!” Steve's bored customer service voice brightens. “Are you home? How are you feeling?” 

“Yeah, I’m home. I’m alright. I mean, I’m bone-fucking-tired and feel about a million years old, but it's really really good to be back,” Eddie says honestly. He adds, “I’m under strict orders to rest, though - gonna be bored out of my mind, so I could use the company if you were serious about ditching work for me.” 

“Of course I was serious,” replies Steve. “It's a slow day today anyways.” 

Eddie grins. “Get your sweet ass over here then.” 

A smile is evident in Steve's voice too. “I'll be there in ten.” 

Eddie hangs up, tries his best to wipe this stupid lovesick grin off his face. He stumbles his way down the hall to his room next, flicking on some music from the cassette player on his dresser and looking around. His room is just as beautifully familiar as the rest of the trailer, not much changed from the way he last remembers it. The same music and D&D shit clutter his surfaces, the same posters clutter his walls. His bed is unmade, clothes litter the floor, same as always.

The only differences: his beloved electric guitar no longer hangs on the wall by the mirror (he was told, devastatingly, that she hadn't survived her trip to the Upside Down), and there are photographs he doesn't recognize taped up around the corners of that mirror. Eddie staggers over to get a closer look, only to first be momentarily jumpscared by his own reflection. His face is pale, eyes sunken, and his hair frizzes out in a greasy, tangled mess around his head, unwashed and unbrushed for who knows how long. Gross, but whatever. He manages to ignore his sickly appearance and inspects the pictures he had apparently deemed important enough to stick to the edges of his mirror. 

There are photos of Eddie smiling with Hellfire and his band and the kids, in large groups and small groups, with old friends he remembers and newer ones he doesn't quite. But what catches his attention the most is a photobooth strip of him and Steve. The first picture shows the two of them grinning, arms slung around each other’s shoulders; the second, a silly face photo, Eddie sticking out his tongue and Steve crossing his eyes; the third, Eddie giving Steve devil horns while Steve laughs; and the fourth- 

Eddie plucks the strip off the mirror, stumbles, so taken aback he trips over his own lame feet until he plops down heavily onto his bed, and he stares. He stares at the last image in the row, which depicts - clear as day and undeniably real, immortalized in ink on photo paper - Steve kissing Eddie, tender hand on his cheek, both of them smiling against each other’s lips.

He stares and he stares and he stares. And the longer he stares the more he can almost feel it, taste it, see the events of that photo strip playing out in his mind’s eye like a waking dream. Like a memory. 

~ 

Steve pulls up to the trailer, the one with the metal music blaring from somewhere inside that announces to the whole park that Eddie Munson is back home. He smiles at the sound, gets out of his car and bounds toward it. 

It's Wayne who lets him in when Steve knocks on the door. “He's in his room,” the older man tells him as he steps aside to let Steve in. “Make sure he's stayin’ off his feet, will you? ‘Cause lord knows he won't listen to me.” 

“Yeah, I got it,” Steve says, and his tone and his smile say I got him. Wayne nods. 

Steve makes his way down the hall to Eddie’s room. He raps his knuckles against the door first, but he doubts that can even be heard over the music so he pushes it open without waiting for a response. “Hey, Ed-” Steve starts, only to falter when he sees Eddie sitting statue-still on the edge of his bed, eyes boring holes into a photo strip of the two of them together. “Oh.” 

Eddie blinks, expression unreadable as he looks up and over at Steve. “Why didn't you tell me?” 

“I-” Steve doesn't know what to say, what he should say. His veins buzz with a nauseating mix of hope and anxiety and it's making him feel a bit sick. He takes a deep breath, turns down the music so he can think. “I wanted to. I just- I thought it would freak you out. You didn't know me. I didn't want to force anything on you.” 

“So…we were together,” Eddie says slowly. “For how long?” 

“Since July.” Steve’s desperately searching Eddie’s face for something, anything, to clue him in to what Eddie’s thinking or feeling right now. “Are- are you freaked out? Because you look a little freaked out.” 

“I’m not freaked out,” Eddie says, and it's almost convincing. “I'm just…processing.” 

“Oh-kay…” Steve breathes out, leaning cautiously against the doorframe, still hovering by the exit just in case Eddie decides he doesn't want him there anymore once he's finished processing.

“I’ve, uh-” Eddie looks back down at the photo strip he holds in his hands and takes a breath. “I’ve been remembering some things, you know, little things - in dreams - about us. But I- I thought I just had a crush or something, because I thought if all of that was real, if we had really been that happy - that…in love - then you would've said something. You would've told me.” 

When Eddie's eyes meet his again, Steve realizes he'd misread his expression before. Eddie's not freaked, he's upset, hurt, not because of what he's learned but because it was kept from him. Of all the worst-case scenarios Steve's spiraling mind had come up with over the past couple weeks, he had not considered this one. So preoccupied with his own angst over being forgotten and fear of being unwanted, Steve hadn't thought to consider that him hiding the true nature of their past might make Eddie feel unwanted too. That's the last thing Steve wants; the ache of that trumps any other ache he feels. 

“Eddie, I’m sorry. I just- you didn't know me, and I panicked; I didn't think, or-or I thought too much, but I should've just told you.” Steve pushes off from the doorway and goes to sit beside Eddie, because he can't stand Eddie looking at him with those big doe eyes and not being close to him. He leaves a bit of space, barely holds himself back from taking hold of Eddie's hand. “Because it was real, all the things you've been remembering. It was real- it is real, and I’m so sorry I didn't tell you.” 

Eddie is uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. His gaze flicks him up and down and across his face, and then Eddie grabs him, hands dropping the photo strip to instead clutch at Steve's cheek and jaw as he pulls him in and kisses him. As their lips slide together, familiar, the both of them sigh into the kiss. Steve feels a bursting in his heart, so similar to the way it felt the very first time they’d done this: the giddiness of reciprocation, the intuition that this is right. 

When Eddie pulls back after a few long moments, something is changed, something returned. Steve watches Eddie’s eyes flutter open; and when they do, for the first time since he'd woken up in that hospital bed, Eddie sees him, knows him, loves him. 

“How could I ever have forgotten that?” Eddie says, almost whispered, running his thumb across Steve's cheekbone. “How could I ever have forgotten you?” 

Steve could cry. Tears made of relief and joy blur his vision, because Eddie is looking at him with all the tenderness he'd been missing these past weeks, the painful emptiness of before now filled. It's all back. His Eddie is back. Steve pitches forward and hugs him bodily. Eddie returns the embrace; Steve sinks into his arms and it feels like coming home. 

He closes his misty eyes, buries his face in the crook of Eddie's neck and the tangles of his hair, and he breathes him in, clinging onto him like Eddie might just disappear if Steve ever let go. Eddie holds him just as close, one arm wrapped firm around Steve's waist while his other hand cradles the back of Steve's head and strokes his hair. Steve soaks in every touch, feels every place where they are pressed against each other, so warm and safe and loving after so long without it. He is whole again in the arms of the man he loves.  

“I missed you,” Steve mutters, lips brushing against the skin of Eddie's neck as he speaks, muffled. 

“I know, Stevie,” Eddie murmurs, “my Stevie, I’m so sorry.” 

“S’okay. It wasn't your fault,” Steve mumbles, and he thinks maybe they both need to stop apologizing for this. 

Eddie must think the same, because he says, “And it wasn't yours either,” like he knows every twisted, guilty thought that's been haunting Steve lately and he absolves him of them. He tugs gently at Steve’s hair to get him to lift his head and look him in the eyes. “You know that, right?” 

“Yeah, I know,” Steve says quietly. Eddie reaches up to brush from his cheek a tear Steve didn't even know had fallen, and as he wipes it away he wipes away everything - all blame, all fear, all pain. Eddie had forgotten him, and it sucked, but now he remembers again, and none of that matters anymore. Steve hangs onto Eddie's wrist. “Just-” His voice rasps with emotion, making it rougher. “Don't you ever forget about me again.” 

It's not a promise that can be made with any certainty - anything can happen at any time, just as unexpectedly as it had this time - but Steve doesn't need certainty, he just needs to hear the words, and Eddie gives that to him. “I won't, darling,” he vows, with gentle reassurance. “Never again.”

“Good,” Steve sighs, turning his head into Eddie's hand to press a kiss to the palm. 

The last of his heavier emotions drain out of him then and now he can feel the joy of Eddie's return in its whole entirety. As he rolls his face out of Eddie's hand and settles his eyes on the beautiful boy in front of him, a grin begins to spread across Steve's face; Eddie's smile grows in tandem with his, like he's smiling just because Steve is. Steve says, giddy in full now, “You're back.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, lovely and bright, ducking to bump his forehead against Steve's. “I'm back.” 

Steve lets go of Eddie's wrist to tangle a hand in his hair, and he tilts his head up to kiss him again, just because he can, because he's making up for lost time. They draw each other in close once more, lips and bodies moving against each other, easy and natural. Steve could stay right here like this forever, never wants to stop holding him or stop kissing him. 

But a thought - a question - tickles at the base of Steve's skull, and when he does pull back he asks, hopeless romantic that he is, “Just in case - I mean, just so I know - what was it that brought your memory back? Was it like a…true love’s kiss breaking the spell sort of thing?” 

Eddie laughs, gives Steve another quick peck like he always does when Steve says something endearing. “Not quite, Prince Charming,” he responds with a grin so fond Steve thinks his heart might burst. “It was more like…the things I had remembered were just dreams to me, shallow and unreal, but kissing you was like an anchor, a reminder that allowed those dreams to sink in as proper memories and become real.” 

“So…basically it was true love’s kiss,” Steve says cheekily, just to hear Eddie’s laugh again, just to receive another affectionate press of Eddie's lips against his. 

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie concedes, smilingly, never one not to indulge whimsy, “we can call it that.” But then he amends, with a little less levity, “It wasn't exactly a magic cure-all, though. It didn't bring everything back, there are still gaps in my memory.” He looks at Steve with eyes like pools of melted chocolate, soft and endless. “But I remember that I love you; I remember that much.” 

And Steve tells him, “That's enough," and he pulls him in for another true love's kiss.

THE END. taglist: @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (continued in replies)

[cerise-on-top]

Here are some sketches that I commissioned the wonderful @felrija to make for me! Her art is absolutely gorgeous and I love these so so much! As a resident turtle lover, this is the absolute best!! Thank you so much for accepting my silly ideas!!! As soon as I thought of it, I just knew I needed Turtle Force 141 in my life and I am so happy she brought my ideas to life like this! I am so happy right now!!!

[temeyes]

psa from our favorite sergeants!!