#between work and writing

[perfectmetaphore]

i am so deep in this dragon age brainrot, and i cannot stop thinking about apostate!silver. or rook!silver.

any verse where silver is a freaking mage.

[chirrups]

my favorite nonsense headcanon: winners get silly little marks like in warrior cats

for extra drama: the previous winner gets to decide where the next one's mark goes

[cozylittleartblog]

Columbo and the Knight (1984)

put me in the universe where Columbo ran through the 1980s and had a crossover episode with Knight Rider. I think they deserved it, and I am not just saying that because they're my two favorite Old Shows. @telebeast wrote a little fanfic blurb about it and I HAD to visualize it into a comic (which is also the longest comic I have finished thus far at five pages...), so writing credit goes to them.

Autism W!

[inkskinned]

you know, you know. no gods, no masters, no kings on pedestals. everyone is fallible. death of the author. you know! you are balanced about your intake of media - you allow the wiggle room, the grace, the gratitude, the skepticism. nobody above criticism.

but still. a weird gut-punch feeling, something akin to betrayal. you read the article. surprise! an author you love is actually: a serial fucking predator.

well, shit. what now. no, you knew he was a person (all people are), but now you're wondering - what have i overlooked by accident? what messages have i internalized that are strange and cruel? and also, like, what the fuck?

his actions lay a thick glaze on top of everything. like each place is now ruined, opaque in a new way. but okay, fine, you've done this before. you knew better, right? you've been betrayed by many a cherished childhood author.

still, this stickiness. fuck. can you pick up that book again. will you read it to your children. you've recommended it to others - will you ever do that again? and of course, of course, no parasocial relationships. you were theoretically above this kind of sentiment. but the artist informs the art, right.

so it's not something as clear-cut as feeling he owed you, specifically (a stranger) better behavior - just that you kind of, in a distant and odd way... sort of trusted him to do better. it's not like a real trust or something speakable, just the faint hope that the product (good books) was a thin representation of the soul. now it feels like the product (good? books?) was a mask. in some small or insignificant way, your previous support of this person lent them power. your money and your time and your laughter.

and the thing is - you have this terrible, echoing sensation. how many times will this happen? over and over. you find out that the singer you love is actually a predator. you learn over drinks that your favorite high school english teacher is in jail for what he did to her. you listen to the news idly and suddenly discover that a woman you used to idolize has been abusing her kids for an actual eon.

what can you touch without the static melting off. you can't even really complain about it too much (you were supposed to know better, and besides, you don't want the same re-split "it's not your fault, love what you love" basic advice), but now it's here. somehow, it feels like - you let him into your life.

it's not that things need to be pure or an artist has to be like, endlessly perfect, mindful. demure. it's more just this terrible truth that has been replayed through your veins so often it feels criminally vain. power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. did you want any one person to be worth that power?

it's just that he wrote books where he seemed to understand that. he seemed to know about hierarchies and unfair systems and bigotry and privilege. you thought they were books about what it means to struggle. you thought they were about having power and still using it for good rather than for control. he spooned you a narrative of being a good guy, a kind soul. you fucking bought what that fucking monster sold.

maybe that's why they were fantasies, after all.

[fuctacles]

prev

The drinks Steve had make them stop at a gas station midway back. Wayne doesn't intervene when he sees Steve stroll inside, but when he leaves and detours to the left, he raises his eyebrows and stubs out his cigarette to follow him.

He finds Steve with a payphone pressed into his ear. Letting the curiosity get the better of him, he leans against the wall nearby, and when he gets spotted, Steve smiles wide and wiggles his fingers at him. Wayne wiggles back, realizing Steve may be more drunk than he thought, so he comes closer.

"Who are you calling?" he asks in a whisper. 

"Eddie," Steve answers, leaning heavily against the flimsy piece of plastic shielding the phone from the elements. Before Wayne can react, someone picks up. "Hi Eddie," Steve croons into the speaker. "No, we're alright, I just wanted to talk to you--We're having fun." His eyes meet Wayne's while Eddie is talking into his ear. "Why can't I sleep with your uncle?"

Wayne presses his lips together. He hopes it doesn't end up in a bigger argument, because no matter what his dick may think, his relationship with his nephew comes first, always. 

Steve motions him to come closer. He hesitates for a moment, but steps into the cover of the phone booth.

"You can do what you want, really," he hears Eddie's voice on the other end. Even through the line, he sounds pissed. "I just don't want shit to be weird after. How are we supposed to hang out if I know you fucked Wayne?"

With a slight delay, Steve nods against the receiver. 

"But I'm--" He licks his lips, conflicted, glancing at Wayne again. "Eddie," he sighs, whines almost, like he's asking for something.

Wayne frowns, now wondering if there's something more than horny hormones fighting for attention in Steve's brain. 

"What?" Eddie bristles. "You're what?"

Steve huffs in frustration.

"I trust Wayne," he says eventually, eyes darting to the man in question and cheeks going pink. 

There's silence from all three of them.

"He's a good man," Eddie agrees with a sigh. "Just... Whatever you do, I don't want to know about it."

Steve frowns. 

"I won't do anything that would upset you." In his periphery, Wayne nods in agreement, though he doesn't seem to want to let his presence be known.

"Dude, I'm already upset!"

He winces. 

"Okay, fair. " He wets his lips, thinking how to appease his friend. "We should hang out, just the two of us. No Wayne, no Robin, no kids."

"Sure. That would be fun." He doesn't sound appeased at all.

The phone beeps in his ear, letting him know his time is up.

"Okay, uh, see you soon."

He hears Eddie make an affirmative noise before the line cuts off. Wayne eases the receiver out of his hand to put it back on the cradles. 

"He'll get over it. Come on, let's get you home."

Steve doesn't seem thrilled at the idea, but follows Wayne to his truck anyway. 

Once on the road with no safe way to jump out of the car, the older man clears his throat. 

"You said you trust me, on the phone."

"Mhm," Steve doesn't look up, picking at a loose thread on the cuff of his jacket. 

"What's that about?" he prods. 

It takes a while for him to answer.

"It's about men. Obviously," he scoffs tiredly. "I make a move on the wrong one and get my teeth kicked out."

"So I'm a convenient queer, huh?"

"What?! No!" Steve turns towards him, but lets out a relieved huff seeing his small, teasing smile. "You're cool and nice, and a good looking guy. Are you fishing for compliments?" he quirks an eyebrow at him.

"Well, if you're offering them..." The man grins. "You're not so bad on the eyes yourself."

Steve snorts, looking away to hide his blush.

"Thanks."

"Can't wait to tell everyone the cool kid thinks I'm cool, too."

"Don't be such a dad," Steve laughs, and the atmosphere finally lifts. 

"Hey."

"Hm?" 

"It's been a while for me, but I know some bars we could go to," Wayne offers as they approach the Welcome to Hawkins sign. "You could find someone else to trust.  And I could make sure you're safe."

Steve's been dozing off, but suddenly feels wide awake. 

"You'd be my chaperone at a gay bar?" he asks incredulously. 

"More or less," Wayne nods slowly. 

"Why?" Steve frowns. "What do you get out of it?"

"Peace of mind? Knowledge that one more queer kid is being safe?" He half-shrugs. "I may not be an active part of the gay crowd, but we should still look out for each other. And I feel partially responsible, as the first man you made a move on."

"Gosh," Steve grins sheepishly, feeling warm inside from Wayne's words. And outside, around his cheeks specifically. "You're such a dad."

"Shush, kid."

"This is not helping my crush, for the record."

"Oh, it's a crush now?" Wayne smirks.

"Shush, dad."

"I'll remember to mention it at your engagement party in a few years."

.

.

.

.

.

Five years later

"Oh no." Steve watches Wayne stand up from the table, hesitating with the spoon he's holding against the glass before deciding to go with the good old fashioned whistle to attract everyone's attention. A sudden memory flashes through his mind, but maybe...

"Now, don't worry..." Wayne sounds like the two drinks he's had already hit him. Steve told him he doesn't need the extra shots in them, but he didn't listen. "I'm not about to spring another mushy gushy love story on ya." He grins and someone, probably Max, murmurs a thanks to god. "But I want you all to know that this started because Steve was trying to hit on me five years ago."

"Oh god," Eddie groans next to him, sliding down in his seat. 

"And my boy got so jealous he barely spoke to me for a month. Tragically, it took him another month to figure out he's into men."

Someone snorts and Wayne grins. Only the top of Eddie's head is visible over the table now. 

"Exactly! But we got here all because of this," Wayne points a thumb at himself, "hot old man." 

And he winks, terrifyingly, at someone on Steve's side of the gathering. He doesn't catch who, though, but maybe that's for the best. There's a fiancé he has to fish from under the table anyway.

tags: @blasvemous @wheneverfeasible @phantomcat94 @divinelyjude @marklee-blackmore  @ajeff855 @holyangelstudentuniverse @dauntlessdiva

[sleepy-steve]

pt 2 of steve "dies but doesn't stay dead" harrington and eddie "ferryman of the river styx" munson // 1.9k // pt 1 ♡

—

november 1984

Eddie checks. Of course he checks. Asks around, eventually to his superiors to make sure he wasn’t going to get in trouble for not collecting Steve. It’s uncommon, they tell him, rare, even. But not unheard of. People die briefly and come back to life. Usually only the one time. The answer should be good enough. Should be. Isn’t though. It frustrates Eddie to no end. Months of wondering and ruminating with the firm belief that he won’t get to see Harrington again anytime soon to ask.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

This time Eddie is on the boat. Leaning over the edge, a hand dangling low to the black water, staring at the same patch of grass he first saw Steve sitting. In fairness, all souls appeared in that general area. But Eddie is fixated on the exact spot Steve had shown off his deep chest wounds. It’s for this reason that Eddie jumps three feet into the air when Steve materialises in the same spot again less than a year later.

Sitting up with a rattling gasp and a look of fury on his bashed-in face—again?! Eddie briefly thinks—Steve yells, “Fucking Hargrove!”

“Christ, Harrington!” Eddie shouts, hand over his chest despite the distinct lack of heartbeat. “Could give a guy a bit of warning.”

Steve looks around, eyes surrounded by more dark bruising taking a second to focus on Eddie, chest heaving as he calms down. “Shit, sorry, man.”

They just look at each other for a few long moments, Eddie standing like a frightened cat on his still wobbling boat. He clears his throat to break the silence. “Who, uh. Who’s Hargrove?”

Scoffing, Steve drags a hand down the side of his face, then winces as it passes over bruising. “Douchebag new guy.” He sighs, settling his forearms on his knees. “His sister is friends with some kids I know. Was coming after them, so I…” Trailing off, Steve gestures to his face.

“What? Offered yourself up as a human punching bag and got yourself killed? Again?” Eddie says, trying not to sound too judgemental.

“Yeah, well,” Steve sighs. “I wasn’t just gonna let him beat up a kid. They’ve been through enough without some dickhead coming in and kicking the shit out of them.”

Eddie feels his brows pull together slightly as he sits back down on the bench of the boat, arms crossed over the edge. It’s not like Harrington was the big bully of Hawkins High, but defender of local kids is… new. “Sounds like a grade-A asshole.”

Steve snorts. “He is.”

“Kids were lucky to have you around as their… babysitter?” Eddie offers, cracking a grin.

Steve rolls his eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Something like that. Probably didn’t need me at all. Stuck around long enough to see her drug him, so they should be fine.”

Humming appreciatively, a thought moves across Eddie’s mind, and he can’t help himself. “…No monsters this time?”

“Ha, ha,” Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know you don’t believe me, but the monsters did actually come back, which is why I was with those little shits in the first place.” He sounds annoyed, but there’s a fond look behind those bruised eyes. One that gives Eddie a little spark in his chest. “But no, this death was just a regular guy.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to snort. “This death. So casual.”

A full grin breaks out on Steve’s face, contrasting heavily with the bruises and the blood under his nose. “Well, when it’s happened this many times, kinda hard not to view it as like. Just this thing that happens, y’know?”

Eddie doesn’t really know. Of everything he’s learnt about death—through his own and through everyone he’s met since—this thing Steve goes through is beyond him. Incomprehensible. He nods anyway.

“How many times have you died, Harrington?”

“Hmm…” Steve looks up as he thinks for a moment. “This would be… five? Or six?” He shrugs. “I’m not sure if it happened when I was a baby.”

He says it so casually, so matter-of-fact, Eddie almost wants to double-take. It sounds so truthful, he struggles to not believe him. Even though Eddie knows he’s not losing much by believing him, a small part of him still has doubts. And worries for his job. “You gonna get in the boat this time?”

Steve snorts. “Not this time, buddy.” Something jolts in Eddie’s chest at the familiarity. “Maybe next time though.”

“Next time,” Eddie mutters under his breath, shaking his head. “You anticipate dying again?”

“Well, no,” Steve chuckles. “But based on how things have been… and apparently I’m not too careful.” He gestures at his bruised up face, eyes bright with humour between the blues and purples and reds.

“The monsters?” Eddie supplies, just teetering on the edge of sarcasm.

“Monsters, douchebag guys, car wrecks… you just never know.”

The casual tone in which Steve talks about his deaths still has Eddie reeling. It’s been well over a year and Eddie is surrounded by death constantly, and he still struggles to think about his own. Tells himself he’d rather not dwell, which is true, but it also hurts. He shakes it off, shifting his focus to the bruised and beaten boy in front of him.

“Or… you could save yourself the trouble, and get in the boat now?” Eddie gestures down at his boat with a little hand flair. He’s joking. Mostly. If Steve did have the chance to go back to the land of the living, Eddie didn’t want to take that away from him. Not that he thought Steve was getting that chance. Not completely, anyway.

“Wish I could, but I don’t make the rules.” Steve grins at him, like they’re sharing a secret. And they kind of were. Eddie wasn’t sure how many people knew about Steve’s semi-regular dances with death.

“And since when have you ever been one to stick to the rules?” Eddie asks, propping his arm up and resting his chin on his palm. Looking at the boy on the grass. His hair is longer this time.

Steve laughs, head tilted back. “Fair point. But if you want me on that boat, you’re gonna have to come over here and drag me onto it.” He raises a brow at Eddie in challenge.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Wish I could, but I don’t make the rules.” He repeats Steve’s words back at him, mocking him.

“Well, well, well,” Steve says, tone playful. “Look who’s being a stickler for rules now.”

“I know,” Eddie drags it out, struggling to hold back his smile. “Crazy, huh? Divine punishment for being born the son of a criminal, I guess.” Eddie’s gaze drops down to the black water beneath him.

Steve scoffs at him. “Like you never smoked pot or broke speeding laws in that van of yours.” 

Eyes widening before he can stop them, Eddie’s shocked Steve even knows about the van. Shocked that Steve knows anything about him at all. What world is he in where the king of Hawkins High knows about Eddie and his beat up old van? Even being in the grade below him, Steve had a popularity pull that was noticed by those in Eddie’s grade. Confusion and surprise subsiding, Eddie finds himself leaning forward even further.

“Coming from you?” Eddie challenges back. “We all know about the famous Harrington ragers, Mister Keg King.”

The title makes Steve roll his eyes. “Never saw you at one.”

It was true. Eddie hadn’t attended any of the parties, for fear of his reputation making him a target. He drops his gaze again. “Didn’t think I’d be welcome there.”

Steve doesn’t respond, and the silence grows between them. They haven’t moved, but Eddie feels further away from him. Like the weird little familiarity they’d developed was being forcefully shoved apart. Eddie doesn’t look up to see Steve’s reaction. Doesn’t want the pity.

“So, you really can’t get out of the boat?” Steve breaks the silence with a complete topic change.

“Nope,” Eddie responds, popping the P. “She’s my new baby, now that I don’t have my van.” He pats the side of the boat with his free hand.

Steve shifts forward until he’s sitting as close as he can to the water’s edge without getting wet. Close enough for Eddie to see the broken capillaries under his skin and the little green flecks in his eyes. He takes in the cuts on Steve’s jaw and forehead, the two black eyes, the blood under his nose. The way his knuckles are bruised and bloodied to match. Something in Eddie feels oddly… protective. Like he wants to jump in front of anything that might hurt this guy he doesn’t even really know that well.

“Change your mind about getting in the boat?” Eddie asks, voice low, now that Steve is so close.

“No,” Steve huffs a laugh. “But you can’t move, so I figured I should.”

“Just that desperate to be close to me, are you?” It slips out of Eddie’s mouth before he can think about it. And Eddie wants to punch himself in the face over it.

But to his surprise, Steve doesn’t recoil away or yell at him. Instead, he laughs softly, cheeks faintly pink beneath the bruising. “What can I say? The allure of your… baby…” He says it with a smirk. “Very tempting.”

Taken aback by Steve’s… flirting is the only word to describe it, but that can’t be right, Eddie immediately switches to joke mode. He won’t entertain the idea that Steve Harrington was honest-to-god flirting with him. He won’t.

“I’ll get you into this boat one day, Harrington. Mark my words.” 

He knocks on the edge of the boat twice before smoothing his hand over the wood. Watches as Steve’s eyes follow his hand, seemingly fixated on it. Eddie briefly wonders what would happen if he touched Steve. Would that commit Steve to being stuck here? Commit him to moving on? Would Eddie even be able to feel him?

Gaze shifting back to Eddie’s face, a smile grows on Steve’s face. “Maybe. One day.” He shrugs, like his eventual death is a fun, whimsical topic.

Eddie is about to comment on Steve’s tone, but before he can, Steve’s head whips to the side, hearing something Eddie can’t. Just like last time.

Unlike last time, Steve doesn’t get up right away. “Looks like my time’s up.”

“How do you know?” Eddie is so curious, he can’t help but ask.

“I can hear—” Steve waves vaguely around his ear. “—stuff. From where I am. The kids are yelling. Hope they’re not too freaked out.”

“Guess you better get back then,” Eddie says, trying to hide his disappointment.

“Yep.” Steve pulls himself up into a standing position, now suddenly looking down at Eddie, who leans back on instinct, shifting back on the boat bench. “But I’ll see you next time.”

“I’ll be here.” Eddie gestures at the boat, palm up. Like he has anywhere else to go. “See ya, Harrington. Stay away from monsters.”

“I’ll try,” Steve laughs, walking backwards on the grass. Keeping his eyes on Eddie as he retreats.

“Try not to get that pretty face bashed in again,” Eddie calls after Steve’s already fading form, grinning wide.

Steve just laughs, the sound of it echoing even after his body disappears from Eddie’s sight.

[andsewingishalfthebattle]

Novice sewing pattern: Cut out shapes. Line up the little triangles on the edges. Stitch edges together. We've also included step-by-step assembly instructions with illustrations.

Novice knitting pattern: yOU MUSt uNDerstANd thE SECret cOdE CO67 (73, 87, 93) BO44 (63, 76, 90) 28 (32, 34) slip first pw repeat 7x K to end *kl (pl) 42 * until 13" (13, 13, 15) join new at 30 pl for 17 rows ssk 27 k2tog mattress lengthwise BO and sacrifice a goat to the knitting gods. WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WANT "INSTRUCTIONS," I JUST GAVE THEM TO YOU

[non-plutonian-druid]

[ID: Fanart of darklordofawesomeness's Cat Stan AU.

The first drawing is labelled 'Chapter 58 - Cat Mania' and has a lineup of Stan, Mabel, Wendy, Dipper, and Soos as cats. Stan is fluffy and dark brown with white markings. Mabel and Dipper are nearly-identical brown kittens, with white markings on their face. Wendy is a fluffy mostly-red calico, and is in the leggy stage of being a kitten. Soos is a fat light brown tabby, with a short tail.

In the next image: cat Stan carries kitten Mabel by the scruff of her neck while kitten Dipper marches behind them; Stan as a human holds up a pissed off kitten Wendy; Ford lies on his stomach holding a camera and kicking his feet; cat Soos lies on his back.

In the third image: cat Stan gives kitten Dipper a cat bath while Soos lies behind them and Mabel crawls all on Stan's back; in the same pose, Stan looks up but holds down Dipper while he tries to escape, and Mabel sits on Stan's head, posing cutely.

In the fourth, cat Stan brings kitten Mabel and Dipper over to Ford, who is lying in bed looking tired. He pets Stan and says " Am I supposed to be giving you more cat socialization? Shit." In the second drawing, Ford, now a cat, stands over cat Stan. Stan says "What the fuck" and Ford says "I had an idea." Then Ford bites Stan's ear.

In the last two images, cat Stan leaps off of Ford's back; and kitten Wendy bites Manly Dan's hand. End ID]

More cats from @dark-lord-of-awesomeness's Cat Stan series! This time from Chapter 58 of Cat Stan Shorts, in which the kids and Soos accidentally turn themselves into cats and, as with all things, it's entirely Ford's fault

[burningcheese-merchant]

ANSWER THIS AND YOU GET A FUNNY BURNING CHEESE COMIC

Hear me out

The ancients giving themselves up to the beasts as sacrifices if they agreed to leave earthbread alone and never wreck terror or show their faces again

I'd say everyone besides Flour would go:

Say less Babygirl*hops into a pumpkin carriage and rides off into the sunset*

Maybe Salt would need a lot of convincing because... Holy shit it could be this easy, Milk you seeing this, quick Spice snap a photo this is a moment in history

Flour is just in massive denial but would find a way to agree to mke it seem like it isn't about love or anything

Unknown3doors, don't tempt me like that 👀 don't tempt me like that, unknown3doors 👀 you're playing with fire, unknown3doors 👀🔥

Pure Vanilla surrendering to Shadow Milk would be the happiest day of Shadow's life. He makes Vanilla repeat himself multiple times, makes him announce it through a megaphone, they do a radio broadcast, Shadow makes a TV special out of it, Shadow writes poems and essays gloating and taunting... And then he eventually agrees to Vanilla's terms (although, he DOES try to haggle for permission to continue annoying people). Pure Vanilla is HIS!!! HE'S FINALLY HIS!!! FOREVER AND EVER!!!!!!! (And the Soul Jam, technically. But WHATEVER!!! HIS SILLY VANILLY!!!). Now Vanilla must endure having to spend EVERY SINGLE MINUTE of his life within 10 feet of Shadow AT ALL TIMES, or else the deal is off and Shadow will commit genocide in retaliation. Why the long face, though? You agreed to this! You knew this would happen! Maybe if Vanilla behaves well enough, like a good little doll, Shadow will allow himself to be HIS doll for a time. Tit for tat. It's only fair. They can be each other's playmate for eternity now...

Eternal Sugar would be 100% awake for the first time in forever if Hollyberry offered herself to her - in exchange for anything at all, it never had to have been for keeping innocents safe. Typical of Holly, in her estimate; she's not necessarily surprised by this. Maybe she'll feign a bit of surprise just because, maybe she'll tease Holly about it... But all in all, she's quite pleased. Now she can keep those pesky subjects of Holly's away from her much easier (as well as her friends... Including that ridiculous dragon...). Holly will learn to see things her way eventually. Appreciate the little things. Like a nice, long nap in a warm bed, in the arms of a loved one... Pleasant, sugary sweet dreams that are too comforting to wake up from... No one ever bothering them about anything ever again. Free from their responsibilities, free from the burden of the shield and the crown. Just the two of them in their own little world, pursuing their own happiness. Won't that be nice?

Mystic Flour would struggle to even entertain Dark Cacao's presence, never mind his... proposal (oh gods, not that word). She would refuse, and refuse, and refuse again. But Cacao does not give up, stubborn fool that he is. Curse his Light of Resolution... Eventually, in lieu of plainly refusing, she tries to appeal to reason. What about his kingdom? His people? What would they say, think, do? Will he leave them behind just to keep her pacified? What about his friends? His son? Who will rule in his absence? Unfortunately, Cacao has an answer for every single one of her questions... and, with an even greater undertone of misfortune... she likes them. That part of her that likes HIM also likes this. That he always has an answer for everything she says. That he won't bend the knee to her, no matter what. His self-sacrificing nature, bordering on martyrdom... just like hers once was. In truth, every word out of her mouth is only serving to delay her inevitable acceptance of his offer. A feeble attempt at shooing him away, one final shot at denying her feelings towards him, for having him around her constantly would be too much to bear, and she might... She... She'll break. She knows she will. And she can't have it. She won't stand for it.

... Dark Cacao, stubborn, handsome, selfless fool that he is. He has undone everything she ever worked for. Her apathy meant nothing the moment they locked eyes. It means nothing now, as they go back and forth about this foolish deal of his. And it won't mean anything when she eventually says yes.

(But she'll try to pretend otherwise, for as long as she can. Neither of them could handle the truth...)

Golden Cheese: Burning Spice, if you leave everyone else alone, I'll give myself to-

Burning Spice: DEAL!!!!!!!!! *pounces on her before she can actually finish or explain herself any further... What he does next, I'll let you imagine/decide 😉*

Silent Salt... wouldn't even believe it at first. He'd be astounded. Dumbfounded, really, that White Lily would say such a thing... Is this really her? Is someone forcing her to do this? What is the catch? Enough reassurance from her would convince him that she's being real and sincere and every other word that can be used to describe her deal, and... he accepts it. No other ifs, ands or buts. His White Lily... now, she really IS his White Lily. Forever and ever... He doesn't mind having to keep away from society; that's hardly a punishment. It costs him nothing. And if his White Lily is there with him, he won't even notice the difference...

[perryelornitorrinco]

I did some fanart for @poposusz’s fic Frozen free fall (these happen in chapter 1 and 3) hehehe, GO READ IT! THE ANGST IS SO AAAAAUUUUGGGHHHH you always do it so well Popo >:·3!!!!!!

Loved the first chapter with them goofing around with their long pants for Legend and their winter clothes XD!!!! It's impossible to stuff all of Hyrule's hair in a hat 💀

And also check all of her other fics, it's a gold mine of Legend angst >:D💖!

[cozylittleartblog]

lil columbo sticker design i made for my etsy :) i'm not sure what the market is for columbo merch but if the demand is high enough i'd like to make an enamel pin in the future!

[serpentface]

He slowed to a halt and looked over his shoulder for signs of pursuit. None followed, but most of the crowd still watched him, not even the death throes of the now-divine corpse sufficing to tear their eyes away. The calf appeared as an earthbound moon hovering above the shoreline, alive and radiant and beautiful beyond words. He could not know this. What he knew was that familiar cattle were somewhere close by, the breeze heavy with their comforting scent. The calf shook his bloodstained head, took a long piss, and trotted away to meet them.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Not beating the allegations.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[archivewriter1ont]

Cadet Batch Incorrect Quotes

Cadet Hunter: Echo, my head hurts.

Echo: Here you go. *gives meds and a kiss on the head*

Cadet Tech: Echo! Can I take apart this datapad?

Echo: *board game appears out of thin air* Why don't you play with this instead, ad'ika?

Cadet Wrecker: Echo, Crosshair stuck his tongue out at me!

Echo: Crosshair, we don't do that. That's rude. Wrecker, get off of that table before you fall and hurt yourself.

Rest of the 501st: *side-splitting laughter*

Jesse: Look at Mama Echo! *takes a boot to the head* Hey!

Cadet Crosshair: *hissing, holding his second boot for shot two* Don't call Echo names!

Echo: It's not nice to throw shoes at people, Cross! But thank you. *pats him on the head*

Echo, to Rex: Yes, I have four kids now, and the bitey sniper one is my favorite.

[crazymecjc]

goodbye, partner.

[sleepy-steve]

pt 3 of steve "dies but doesn't stay dead" harrington and eddie "ferryman of the river styx" munson // 2.5k // pt 1, pt 2 ♡

—

july 1985

Eddie’s not obsessed with Steve Harrington. He’s not. There’s just not much to think about between guiding souls to the boat. Not much in the way of entertainment in the Underworld. And Steve’s appearances—twice in as many years—were the most interesting things to happen to Eddie since his own death. And his returns to the living world are worth space in Eddie’s mind. At least that’s what he tells himself, to justify how much time he spends thinking about the guy.

Still not entirely convinced of the answer he was given by his superiors about souls that sometimes return to the living world, Eddie finds himself constantly thinking about the possibilities. So Eddie seeks out the last soul that held his position. The previous ferryman of his boat is more than happy to answer his questions. Turns out Eddie would eventually retire—after a 500 year tenure—so that’s something to look forward to. The older man tells Eddie that yes, some souls died and then returned to the living world, but what Steve was experiencing was something different. A curse. To die and never stay dead, it took its toll on the spirit. Chips away at it. Weakens the soul. Eddie thinks it sounds a bit dramatic, but still holds some apprehension as he wonders when Steve might return. Steve’s voice echoing in his mind long after he’s disappeared: I’ll see you next time.

This time it’s only eight months.

The spot that Eddie fixates on constantly between carting souls onward could be lit on fire by the intensity of his gaze. He stares and stares, part of him believing that if he stares long enough, he can force Steve to return through sheer force of will. The other part of him is ashamed for wanting that at all. What kind of guy wanted another guy—a good guy, a friend, even—to die again? How selfish was that? It’s just when Eddie is running down another thought spiral like this when Steve Harrington appears again.

Groaning, holding his head, Steve sits up slowly. Groggily. Eddie takes in just what he’s looking at. Steve looks the same, but different. The same in that his hair is still somehow perfect, his eyes are still hazel, and his face is once again bashed to hell and back. (Eddie wonders if he even remembers what Steve looks like without bruises on his face.) Different in that his hair is a bit longer, he looks so confused about where he is, and the outfit…

“Harrington?” Eddie ventures cautiously. “You alright, man?”

“Robin?” Steve asks, still dazed as he blinks repeatedly.

Who? “Uh, no, dude. Eddie, remember?”

Steve’s eyes focus on Eddie, who gives him a little two-finger wave, hoping that his face doesn’t give away just how concerned he is right now. The previous two times, Steve was never confused about where he was. Knew exactly what was going on. This time though…

“Oh, no…” Steve drops his head into his hands as he groans his… disappointment? Eddie tries hard not to take that personally. Watching as Steve continues to mumble curses and grievances under his breath, Eddie waits awkwardly on his boat.

“…Steve?” He finally offers. “You good?”

“Ugh, yeah, I mean…” Steve grumbles. “I know I’ll be fine. Just Robin, and the kids… I don’t know if they’re safe.” Eddie’s unbeating heart aches at how earnest Steve is about ensuring his friends’ safety. “And now I’m not there to make sure.”

Eddie nods sympathetically. “But… you’ll go back, right?” Steve glances up. It’s the first time Eddie’s verbally conceded to Steve’s ability to return to the living world. “I mean, you have every other time.”

“Yeah.” Steve nods distantly. “Yeah, I assume so.”

The guy looks so disappointed, so… distressed by his being here. It’s so unlike him. Steve has always been very casual about his deaths. There must be some real stakes at hand this time. More than monsters, which is crazy to think about.

“You, uh…” Eddie falters when Steve looks up at him, big hazel eyes shining. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

A little smile pulls at the corner of Steve’s mouth, and Eddie settles himself over the edge of the boat, crossing his arms. Steve slowly pulls himself closer, sitting right on the edge of the river, as close as he can get, and tells Eddie the whole story. Everything from Dustin Henderson—a middle schooler sounding oddly like he was Steve’s best friend—arriving at his workplace with a weird recording, to his coworker Robin Buckley translating it, to roping in Erica Sinclair—and god, Steve regretted that so much—to the elevator, to them finally getting caught.

Nodding along and only asking a few questions to clarify the story or who Steve was talking about, Eddie found himself wondering what the hell Steve Harrington’s life actually was. This didn’t even have anything to do with the monsters Steve had mentioned in his previous visits. A whole secret base of foreign soldiers hidden under a mall? It’s unbelievable. Were it not for how seriously Steve was telling the story, the fear in his eyes, the concern for his friends, Eddie would say he was making it up.

“…and they kept asking, y'know? Who do you work for? And they just wouldn’t believe me.” Steve sniffs, resting his chin on his bare knees, arms wrapped around his legs. “Last thing I remember is getting punched in the face.” He glances up at Eddie with a sad half-smile. “Again.”

“How does this keep happening to you, man?” Eddie asks, concern bleeding through his words.

“I blame Dustin.” Steve tilts his head to the side, joke falling flat. “Or maybe I’m just. Really, really unlucky.”

Eddie takes in Steve’s injuries. The horrifically bruised and swollen eye. The split lip. The dried blood under his nose. It wasn’t as bad as last time, but Eddie didn’t know how many injuries were hidden under that blue shirt. The previous ferryman’s words echo in his mind. A curse.

“Nah.” Eddie says. “I blame Dustin, too.” The kid sounded nice enough, maybe too smart for his own good, but Eddie hadn’t met him, so he didn’t feel too guilty about it. Steve gave him a look that said he knew exactly what Eddie was doing. “I’m sure they’re gonna be fine, Steve.”

“Hope so. Just don’t want them to go after Robin if I’m dead up there.”

Ah yes, Robin. Steve had spoken so highly of her. How smart she was. Brave, for joining them. Funny, though Steve didn’t want to admit it since most of her jokes were targeted at him. She sounded cool, but something about how he spoke about her made Eddie weirdly sad. Part of him wonders if, in another world, the three of them would have been friends.

“You think they will?”

“Hopefully I’ll get back before they do,” Steve says with a sigh. “Time works different here, anyway.”

Eddie frowns. “It does?”

“Yeah, it’s never as long up there. Much shorter.” Steve shrugs. “Probably a good thing.”

Brows pulled together, Eddie thinks back to the previous times Steve had visited. He was only around for thirty minutes tops. Less the first time, probably. What would that have translated to in the real world? Half that time? A few minutes? 

Silence settles over them, Steve staring into the middle distance with a look of worry etched into his face between the lacerations and bruises. Eddie fixates on the cut over his lip, swollen and red. When Steve notices him staring, Eddie clears his throat and quickly looks down, then back up.

“So, what’s up with the outfit, man?” The subject change is clunky at best, but Eddie’s curiosity was getting the better of him. And it was better than the staring.

Steve finally laughs. His good eye crinkles with it, the smile wide on his face. “I told you man, it’s an ice cream shop!”

“But why are you a sailor?” Eddie matches his grin.

“It’s called Scoops Ahoy, the whole thing is like, nautical themed.”

Eddie raises a brow. “Nautical?”

“Nautical,” Steve confirms with a nod. There’s a beat of silence before both of them dissolve into giggles. “You should see the stupid hat they make us wear.”

“Wish I could.” Eddie sighs, his laughter tapering off. His brain moves faster than he can stop it, and suddenly it’s presenting him with a scenario. Eddie waltzing into the ice cream parlor, with its weird little nautical theme, leaning over the counter and getting into Steve’s face as he asks for a free sample. Steve might blush, and say that usually they’d charge for that, but for Eddie it’s free. He might adjust the hat, which Eddie pictures as a little white thing, classic sailor costume, with a blue stripe. Eddie might say that he can think of a way to pay Steve for it, taking hold of that little red tie and pulling Steve closer over the counter.

“You picturing it?” Steve asks, head tilted and a bemused look on his face.

Eddie jolts out of his fantasy, feeling hot in his cheeks. “Mhm, yep, I’m picturing. Looks pretty stupid.”

Steve snorts in response. “It is.” He sighs. “But, y’know. S’not all bad. I met Robin there.”

Robin again. Eddie identifies a feeling rising up in his chest and forces it back down, pointedly not giving it any attention. “Yeah, she, uh. She sounds… pretty cool.”

“She is.” Steve smiles, looking down at the grass.

“You… like her?” Eddie tries. He’s torn between his desire to know more and his desire to never talk about her ever again.

“Hm?” Steve’s head snaps up. “Oh, uh, I mean. She’s… in… band.” He trails off, looking unsure.

“She’s in band?” Eddie clarifies with a raised brow. “Ah, so, not your type?” Hopefully. Eddie shoves that thought down and compartmentalises it into a neat little box alongside his weird feeling to deal with later.

Steve sighs. “I don’t know, man. She’s cool, and funny, and smart. Maybe too smart for me. I guess I’m trying to, y’know, let go of all that—stupid high school shit.” He waves his hand as he says it.

Eddie’s surprised by this response. He thought Steve would say he was into cheerleaders or something like that. “That’s… cool, man.” He pauses and takes in a low breath before continuing. “You should ask her out.” He says it before he can convince himself it’s a bad idea.

“You think?” Steve looks up at him and genuinely seems unsure. Seems to want Eddie’s honest opinion.

“Yeah. I don’t think she’d go through all this and follow you into danger if she didn’t like you as well.” Eddie swallows the thing inside him that’s clawing up his throat and begging him to stop talking. “Tell her how you feel.”

“Thanks, man,” Steve says, like he’s thanking Eddie for more than just his advice. “You’re a good friend.”

A pang hits Eddie right in his chest and he smiles despite it. “We aim to please, down here, Stevie. All Inclusive Underworld Service.” He tilts his head exaggeratedly and holds his arms out, leaning heavily into his joke.

“I mean it, Eddie,” Steve continues earnestly. “It’s… nice, y’know? Having you here when I die. Familiar face. Makes me feel like it’s all gonna be okay.”

Eddie softens at his words, letting his arms slowly fall to his sides. “It is, Steve.” Eddie leans one the edge of the boat again, arms folding under his chest. “I’m glad we’re friends.” And he does mean it, despite the other feelings fighting for attention inside him.

Steve grins back at him, wide and genuinely happy amongst the cuts and bruises on his face. A few moments pass and Eddie briefly wonders how much time they have left. How much time before Steve disappears before his eyes again and leaves for an unknown amount of time. Once again torn between his want for Steve to stop getting himself hurt and killed, and his extremely selfish desire for Steve to stay with him, Eddie silently argues with himself.

“Can I ask you something?” Steve’s question once again draws Eddie out of his own mind.

Eddie shrugs. “Sure, man.”

“How did you… die?” Steve looks unsure as he asks. “Is it okay if I ask that?” He quickly adds.

“Uh, yeah.” Eddie feels himself draw in a little, retreating into himself. “I mean. Kind of a shitty story. But it’s, y’know. Whatever.” His hands flick and wave around with his words. “Um, I was doing this job with my dad and it just. Went bad.”

“You don’t have to tell me if…” Steve trails off, eyes going unfocused, pausing for a moment before he looks up again. “Damn it!”

Eddie feels disappointment crawl across his chest, knowing before he asks. “What?”

“I’m going back. I can hear Robin on the other side.” Steve sighs, seeming genuinely upset. “I’m sorry, man.”

“Oh, it’s—it’s fine.” It doesn’t feel fine. Eddie hopes it doesn’t show on his face.

Steve gives him a half smile. “Tell me next time?”

Not wanting to get his hopes up, Eddie tries to force his expression into one of mild admonishment. “Don’t let there be a next time, Steve.”

His half smile turns to a full grin. “I’ll try not to.” Steve slowly pulls himself up, brushing dry grass off his blue shorts.

“Steve, wait.” It comes out before Eddie can stop himself. “Could you… do something? For me?” The words come out stilted, and even as he’s speaking, he wonders why he’s even asking.

“Sure, man. Anything.” Steve looks at him wide-eyed and attentive.

“Just, uh.” Eddie cringes at himself, forcing the words out before he can change his mind. “Could you, maybe, check on my uncle? See how he’s going? I just—I wanna know that he’s okay.”

A beat of silence sits between them before Steve responds. He sounds so determined. Like Eddie was entrusting him with something precious and important. “Of course, Eddie. I will.” 

Relief washes over him at Steve’s words. Eddie lets out a breath as the tightness in his chest fades. “Wayne Munson. He lives over at the Forest Hills trailer park.”

“Wayne Munson, Forest Hills” Steve repeats dutifully, giving a single nod. “Got it.”

“Thanks, man,” Eddie says with sincerity, looking up at Steve from the boat. “Means a lot to me.”

Steve looks at him for a moment, like he has something on his mind, but then jolts out of it. “Sorry, I gotta go now.”

“Yeah.” They continue looking at each other, somehow feeling closer now that Steve is standing, and Eddie feels the odd urge to reach out to him. Unsure what to do with that, he pushes that urge down into another compartment alongside the others to deal with later.

“Thank you, Eddie. Seriously.” Steve smiles at him, bright and sincere through the bruises and lacerations on his face.

“Anytime,” Eddie says, slightly breathlessly. And then Steve is gone, leaving Eddie with an unfamiliar emptiness inside him.

Why does Eddie suddenly miss this man he barely knows? This awful feeling inside him that begs for attention and demands that Steve return reaches through Eddie’s chest and rattles against his ribcage. A strange sadness resting within him, waiting to be dissected.

Hours later, when he’s still feeling weird and sad, a realisation hits him. Eddie didn’t even ask Steve to get in the boat.