#how to work with an editor

[rozmorris]

What's editing - and how do editors work with writers? Interview at Writers' Narrative magazine

Why is editing so important for writers? Why is it publishing’s biggest – and best-kept – secret? How do editors work with writers to ensure clarity and consistency – and yet preserve the writer’s unique voice and flavour? What if the writer disagrees about changes the editor wants to make? How do we keep a dialogue going throughout the editing process so the writer doesn’t feel they’re losing…

[ratlingrun]

I don’t care whether you like rooster teeth or not the idea of deleting 21 years of media should be incredibly concerning

[steviewashere]

What is a Heart Worth if It's Just Left All Alone?

Rating: General CWs: None! Tags: Post-Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, POV Outsider, Switching POV, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Breakup (Brief), Getting Back Together, Love Confessions, Dialogue Heavy, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Dustin Henderson Being a Voice of Reason, Steve Harrington & Dustin Henderson Have a Brotherly Friendship, Steve Harrington Has Self-Esteem Issues Wrote this all on Tumblr this morning literally in an hour. Hope it's good! Title from "Questions" by Jack Johnson

💕—————💕 Steve and Eddie are seen always sitting next to each other. At first, when they were just friends, it was nothing more than just an Oh, hey, this seat is empty, mind if I sit down? Now that they're several months deep into dating, it's as if they'll evaporate without the other right by their side.

Movie nights? Cuddling together. BBQ at the Byers-Hopper house? Thigh to thigh, eating off the same plate. All the seats full? A lap is now a seat.

They hold hands; Steve sometimes spinning Eddie's rings, Eddie popping Steve's tense knuckles. Arms slung over shoulders. Ankles looped around each other. Again, food shared between plates, forks, and fingers. Petting hair, twirling strands, braiding chunks. Murmured compliments and whispered questions and smiley answers. Commentary about the show or the movie or the commercial. Naps intertwined, snuffling under the only throw blanket, craning their necks to watch over each other.

It's sick.

It's sweet.

Nobody's seen them as happy as they are than when they're with each other. If they don't spend at least five of seven days in a week together, then they pout and groan and those arbitrary questions come popping back up—"Is he okay? Did I go too far with something? Why isn't he seeing me right now?" Long gaps between dates means reunions as if the world is still ending; long winded hugs and smiles too big for their faces and hushed words nobody knows how to pick up. Sometimes a kiss...or two...or three.

And then, out of nowhere, Steve and Eddie stop.

Stop hanging out. Stop talking to each other. Stop being in the same room, on the same couch, in the same conversation.

It's weird.

"We broke up," Steve says in this quiet, dismissive way. Utterly void and somehow completely flimsy. He shrugs at Dustin's confused, questioning look. "I'm fine. Eddie's fine. It was...it was mutual. Don't worry."

Don't worry?

That's all Dustin's doing now!

In what world do Steve and Eddie—or better yet, SteveandEddie—just up and leave one another's lives? Sure, the affection they put out sometimes interrupted everything else going on around it. And yeah, if he had to see basically his two older brothers mack it one more time, Dustin was going to ralph—and not in that homophobic, Billy Hargrove/Jason Carver/Troy Walsh way. But because it was always so graphic and noisy and full of pure love that Dustin had nothing else to do but look away. He had to for his own sanity!

But now it's just...gone? All of it?

The gentle, teasing remarks. The warm, sleepy, early morning laughter that followed an all group sleepover. Arcade visits where the two were fighting over the same cabinet. No more bickering over the radio station, swapping sunglasses, turning down the volume if Steve had those early telltale signs of a migraine. Goodbye coffee runs and BBQ plate sharing and grabbing the other's favorite at a convenience store—just because.

"What do you mean you guys broke up?" Dustin squawks. "What the—How in the—Just like that?! What the hell even happened? You guys were perfect for each other!"

Because, yeah, as much as he'd been cheering for the whole SteveandRobin of it all...he has eyes. He's got eyes all over his head, blinking, gazing right into the sun that is Steve and Eddie's megawatt, shiny, beautiful relationship. They're an endgame telenova couple, and Dustin just sat down with his bowl of popcorn! No way is he letting these kernels go stale.

Steve shrugs dismissively—again. He's gripping his steering wheel tight, though. And his sunglasses are sitting low enough on his nose to unsheathe his shiny, sad eyes. Dustin's a fool, but he's not a moron. These are the telltale signs of heartbreak—and yikes does Steve wear it all well...too well.

"I don't know what to tell you, Dusty. Some things just don't work out. No matter how good they were going." He flicks his turn signal to flash left, right towards Forest Hill. Right towards doom, it seems like. "We were just...we were too different, dude."

"Oh, no fucking way!" Dustin roars.

Steve brings his right hand to his ear, tweaking it. "Lang"—

"Are you intentionally being stupid or something?" he asks rhetorically. Slamming out his hands when Steve begins to answer. "Don't—Just...where the hell did you get an idea like that, man? So you don't enjoy playing some D&D like Eddie does—who actually cares? I get it now, dude, not your thing. Not your ala mode, whatever. And you listen to more radio hit, poppy songs than he does. And maybe you don't read as many novels as he does"—

"Y'know, you're kinda proving the point"—

"Ah! No! Shut up, will you? Just fuckin' slam the breaks for a minute, 'cause I'm not done." Dustin tosses his hands back to his lap, slapping them down with firm smacks. He guffaws, stuttering over the same incomprehensible, unintelligible noises of disbelief. "You guys just got each other in a way that I haven't seen out of anybody in my entire life. It's like you guys have met before, but like...like lifetimes ago. Like you've lived somewhere in the universe simultaneously in alternate timelines over and over and over again. Some real sort of Twilight Zone kind of shit.

"Who cares if you guys have different tastes? We have different tastes, don't we? You like raucous comedy videos and I'm a big sci-fi fantasy nerd in ways you don't get—and that's fine! That's completely fine!

"If you were just like Eddie—or, to take it back to me—if you were just like me, you'd be so insanely boring. No offense, but you would be. God, our conversations would just run dry.

"Some of my favorite things I'd see between you and Eddie were these just purely, like, inquisitive conversations, y'know? Where Eddie'd be complaining about some far away Lord of the Rings lore bullshit and you'd be asking all the questions. Like...like that one time you asked why Bilbo and all the other dudes didn't just take the giant eagles to Mordor! What an entertaining conversation that was. But if you knew the answer already, then why would you ever want to have a conversation about something you already know? Why would you ever want to talk to Eddie about anything fantasy wise? You'd just bore each other out!

"Or...or the whole music taste thing, right? Metal stuff gives you migraines"—

"I mean...it doesn't always give me migraines...it just gets too loud and then"—

"Okay, so it's a trigger," Dustin says flippantly, tossing up his hand. "Got it. Yeah. But the thing is, Steve, that became an obvious thing of importance to Eddie. He played his music, but he played it quieter when you were around. And...and, yeah, okay, he didn't always enjoy the pop songs—the exact same way you didn't enjoy the way Iron Maiden sounded...again, that's okay!

"The fact that you guys were willing to indulge each other, though, that's pretty big. Eddie listened to what you had to say about your favorite Madonna song. He loves hearing you talk about your music, the same way your face visibly lights up when Eddie talks about his. He wants to know you.

"Eddie wants you to be different from him. He wants to know your perspective on things, don't you get it? He wants to have somebody that'll bounce right off of him and give him something to deeply think about. He needs a person who's going to shoot him down on his stupidest shit, but he needs a person who's also going to respect him.

"Just like you do," Dustin murmurs carefully. "You used to tell me that the key to getting a girl to like you is to act like you don't care. Or to be flippant. Or to just...just go along with it. Which, yeah, pretty stupid advice, if I'm being honest.

"Something, like, visibly shines from inside you when you find yourself caring. And I think what you've been looking for all these years is a person who is not you. Or, better yet, somebody who shows up for you—in ways, maybe, a person hasn't before.

"Eddie cares about you, Steve, in ways I've never seen him care about anybody. Especially somebody who aligns with all his Munson doctrine horseshit that he's been carrying around like a fucking cement block. You align with it, maybe, but the way you show up for him is important, too. You disprove everything he's previously believed about people like you. He needed that wake up call.

"And now that he's awake, man, I don't think he's gonna want to go back to sleep." The sign at the entrance of Forest Hills is a few feet ahead, right inside his peripheral. For some reason, Steve is slowing down instead of speeding up. And Dustin feels like he's giving a debate team speech—Jesus. "I don't think you should let go of this, Steve. This relationship is right. For him...for you.

"What's the real reason you guys broke up? And don't give me the bullshit of him being too different from you. That's not true and you know it."

They could just speed right into Forest Hills. He could be dropped off. The BMW could sputter dust right in his face and leave a trail as Steve speeds back down the road, away from the trailers and the chain fence and the orange couch on the Munson porch. Instead, though, he pulls off to the side of the road.

Steve parks. Rips his sunglasses right off his face. And—for the first time ever—Dustin sees tears pour right down Steve's cheeks. He doesn't even wipe them away, just rubs the snotty tip of his nose against his Members Only jacket, and sighs.

"When'd you start giving relationship advice?" Steve crackles like he's trying for a joke. He even huffs a senseless chuckle. Eyes still wet. Cheeks ruddy pink and white. "You're gonna hate me," he mutters.

Firmly, "No, I'm not, Steve. Just be honest with me."

"I was the one who broke up with Eddie, okay?"

Dustin blinks, cowed. "What? Why?"

Steve shrugs, this time helplessly. Aimlessly. Scared. "Thought that, um...um, that he'd see that I'm not the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with. Not that—I mean, we're barely in our twenties, y'know?

"And I know, okay, I know that I'm not everybody's favorite person. No matter how much of my ego tries to blow smoke up my own ass. He's just...Eddie's brilliant in ways I've never faced before—out of partners, at least. He's, uh, intelligent and so...so fucking funny and just overall a very beautiful person. Looks and smarts and whatever other shit spreads between all that.

"I'm just..."—Steve stops to take a heaving, stuttering deep breath—"...just sorta the placeholder, I guess? I feel like, one day, Eddie's going to see me for the person he didn't expect and he's going to realize how little of me he actually loves and cares for. And I just...I don't know, man. I don't know where I'm going with this! I know that I'm basically talking myself into and endless fucking spiral and that I broke up with him for a very, very stupid reason, but I...

"I'm scared he's going to stop loving me, Dustin." Steve looks him dead on now. Swollen eyes and puffy cheeks and quivering bottom lip. Broken and splintering all at the same time. "I thought"—another stuttering, nasally breath; it chokes out at the end, teetering on a sob—"I thought that if I broke things off, then he wouldn't have to waste his time with loving me, but also...also to stop loving me. Does that even make sense? I know I'm being fucking irrational. And—What I did was pointless and cruel and stupid of me, okay? It's stupid!

"Eddie's probably way worse off compared to me. And here I fucking am, sobbing in my car to some fifteen year old kid as if I'm not the literal monster in the scenario." Steve scoffs to himself, rolls his eyes, faces towards the windshield again. "And now Eddie probably actually fucking hates my guts. He's probably...probably grateful that I ended things and showed my true clashing colors. Proved him and his dumb fuckin' doctrine right. I'm an asshole. That's all I'll ever be. King fucking Steve, a walking, talking, gaping asshole." He sniffs, rubs his wet nose against his jacket again, and scoffs at himself once more in utter disgust. "I mean, like, who does this shit, right? Who looks at the person they love the most in the world and decides—oh, look at me and my big, stupid self imposed hate. Better break up with my doting, loving, patient partner to make things not as bad. Look at me, Mr. Righteous doing the selfless thing! Who am I kidding, though?

"I'm so fucking selfish. And the only person who's actually hurt is Eddie. And I didn't even get to tell him that I do love him. I do, I really, really love Eddie.

"Didn't even give our relationship enough time for us to say that to each other." He scrubs his hands over his face, squishing his eyeballs with audible, wet squelches. Steve sighs around a humorless laugh. "I have to apologize," he decides aloud—said so low, Dustin's not even sure if he was supposed to hear it. "But if I apologize and Eddie asks for the reason, then what? I gotta be honest, right? But then, what, make myself look like a victim? I broke my own stupid heart. Squished it under my shoe and everything." He shakes his head. Clicks his tongue. Chuckles dry again. "But Eddie likes honesty, I guess. So...so I guess I have to be. He's gonna be so mad at me, isn't he?"

Dustin blinks again. Takes a deep breath. Flounders for a beat, then two. "That's...I don't know, Steve," he speaks carefully, "I mean...dude, that was a lot to process? I think you should apologize, for sure. If Eddie asks for honesty, though...If Eddie asks for honesty, I think he deserves to hear the truth.

"He'll probably be a lot upset, I can't tell you that he won't be. But I think...I think if you consider the fact that this is Eddie we're talking about, then there's always going to be room for compassion, maybe even some forgiveness. Eddie can be an asshole, but he's not cruel. And he can be mad, but he's not going to stomp you our for having insecurities." Dustin swallows, it clicks against the back of his throat. Then, "That's what that whole thing was, by the way. A lot of insecurities that, I gotta be honest, Steve, that need to be mended, man. You're walking around with a lot of heavy baggage and I think it's time to let some of it go."

Steve nods, slowly wiping the tear tracks away from his face. "I know," he croaks. "I know, I just..."—again, helplessly, Steve shrugs—"...I didn't think I was this bad."

"You're not bad," Dustin remarks quietly. "You're not cruel and you're not an asshole. Steve, you just...you're a good person who happens to have been seriously hurt before. Of course you're going to be scared of being hurt again.

"Sometimes heart talks over logic. And that's what happened. You got scared, so you backed away the only way your heart told you to. The whole...the whole messy aftermath is logic finally catching up.

"It doesn't feel good, I bet. But it doesn't make you a bad person for realizing you've made a mistake."

"Pretty fucking explosive mistake, isn't it?"

Dustin sighs. "Yeah," he says, "yeah, pretty explosive. But that's okay, Steve. You realize that, right? It's okay that you said some things and now you're learning from them?

"It's just like when you made that joke to me about punching out my teeth, dude. And then you caught what you said. And you walked it back. And you apologized.

"You put your foot, like, pretty firmly in your mouth, sure. Doesn't mean you can't dislodge it or something, right? Everybody does something that they aren't proud of. And that something comes with consequences.

"You're going to be okay, dude. No matter what happens. Eddie may not immediately forgive you. And you guys probably won't go back to being as all over each other as you were before. But that's okay. Time heals all wounds or whatever bullshit that saying is." Steve laughs at that, finally humorous and loud. "Also, gotta say, it's kind of fucking crazy that I'm the voice of reason right now. You realize that, right? I'm fifteen and obnoxious and somehow, I'm giving you the best advice in the whole universe."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Alright, alright. Don't go blowing smoke up your own ass, you butthead. But, uh...you're reasonable right now. So I guess I should listen to you."

"You guess? Just take the advice, you asshat! When we get to Eddie's, I want you to apologize to him and see what happens." When he doesn't get a response, Dustin sighs. "Seriously," he says, no longer teasing, "I'm going to go inside Eddie's and send him right out to you. You don't have to give, like, a perfect apology. But just be honest with him, alright? You'll be fine. And so will he. At least try to get some words out, okay?"

They finally turn down the Forest Hills drive. Park right outside of Eddie's. Steve turns to him. "Send him out," he says, "I'm sorry, in advance, if this takes a while."

"If you guys take the rest of the day, I won't be mad. You, uh, you guys are actually perfect for each other. I was being honest about that." Before anything else can be said, Dustin runs right up to Eddie's door, enters without a knock, and prepares himself to sit on the couch for a little while.

——— Steve's still drying off his face and rubbing the visible sheen from his eyes when Eddie approaches him. The two of them standing a couple feet apart at the BMW's front bumper.

"Dustin said we had to talk," Eddie says flatly instead of greeting. "Is it as important as he made it sound?"

"Um"—Steve nods, shakes his head, nods again—"I wanted...to...apologize. For breaking things off the way I did."

Eddie loudly scoffs and huffs. "Oh, so you're sorry for breaking my heart? Gee, thanks, Harrington. Like that's going to make it all better."

The drying his cheeks was a dumb thing to do in hindsight. Tears come back to his eyes tenfold. He can't bring himself to look up at Eddie, even though the heartbreak is clear in his voice.

"I don't know...I don't know what to say," Steve admits. "Guess I should just start with, um, the fact that I didn't actually want to break up with you?"

"God, you are terrible at apologies, you know that? Is that supposed to make me want you back or something? That you didn't want to break my heart, just testing the waters? See how far you could stretch my care for you until being able to just burn it up?"

Steve shakes his head. "No, I—I ran away, okay? That was me running. We...we were getting really deep into everything. And I scared, like, stupidly scared. Because you care about me now, sure, but what about a couple years from now when I'm too much again or maybe, like, too shallow or I'm full of shit or"—he sighs and slouches against the hood of his car, face pointed down at the dirt under his shoes—"Fuck if I know if we'd even survive a few years, y'know? Who says we would? It's not like my other relationships lasted that long."

Eddie audibly shifts, but Steve still doesn't look up. "So...so breaking up with me was the only option? What happened to talking to me when you get in your own head, Steve? One of the main things in a relationship is communication. I can't help you if I don't know what I'm supposed to help with."

"That's the thing!" Steve huffs out. "Okay? I don't know how to talk about it without sounding like a complete fucking baby or something, I don't know!

"You know how many other people have looked at me and decided that I'm just not worth the time? That my interests and my hobbies and my affection—all of it, just none of it mattered! And I—Eddie, oh my god, Eddie I'm so stupidly in love with you, you have to believe me. But it's...it's just a matter of time, right?

"It's a matter of time until you look at me for who I am. Like, really, really look at me for who I am and you realize that I'm not who you actually want. I'm not interesting enough. I'm not caring enough. I'm not doting enough. That I'm just not enough or something, I don't know.

"And like...like I'm so in it with you. I could picture myself just years down the road, you right by my side at the dinner table. With...with our tape collection mixed up and toppling over, the fridge stocked with our favorite drinks, mugs stained with each other's coffee mess. I could see myself dedicating all of my time to you. Bending my life in all sorts of ways to accommodate you in it, to make sure there's always somewhere for you to breathe, for you to just exist, for you to just...just be there in it with me.

"I wanted a whole life with you. I still want that whole life with you. And I...I'm so stupid about all this because it's so obvious that you care about me and that you want me, but for some reason I just led myself to believe that at some point, it would all go away. That, for some reason, you would just stop.

"And I didn't want you to stop wanting me. Because I don't want to stop wanting you. Because my bed is better with you. And my arms are meant for you and my whole—Everything! Everything I have is meant to be shared with you, just you, Eds.

"But you...you have so much ahead of you and I don't know...maybe I'm just not supposed to be in it? I feel like I'm picturing too much. Or maybe I'm just getting too ahead of myself. We were only eight months into it, but if I had the money, Eds, I'd get all the moments right to put myself on one knee. And that...that scares me, too. How much I want you." Steve tries for a deep breath, but this time—this time—it sputters out of him as a sob. A wet, scratchy, painful sob. "I'm sorry that I hurt you, Eds. I'm so sorry that I couldn't see past myself. I'm so fucking sorry that I tanked everything because I can't seem to get over everything else. I'm sorry, Eds, I'm so"—

"Stop," Eddie chokes out. He sniffles. Steve finally looks up, blurred vision and all, to try and clue out what emotion is flickering over Eddie's face. No dice. "I need you to stop, Steve. Just...just give me a second."

So he does. He sits on the hood of his car, looking down at the dirt again, trying to reign himself back in. It doesn't work. But he does quiet down. Enough to hear the stuttering of Eddie's own breath, which he seems to be trying to get under control, too.

Finally, Eddie croaks, "I'm hurt."

"I'm"—

"No, Steve, stop. My turn to talk, okay?" He just nods at Eddie. Collecting himself again, Eddie takes a deep, steady breath. Softly, "I'm...I'm hurt that you think of me like that. Or that you led yourself to think that. Because it's just not true, Steve. Not at all. Y'know how bad it's been to not have you around me?

"It's been awful, Steve. I think about calling you at least twenty times a day. To tell you about the stupid mundane things I did. Like what I ate for breakfast or what show I caught late last night or the best pop song I heard in the day. Because I love talking to you.

"I love your warmth, how you press right up next to me. I love your snoring when we're napping. I love the way you ask so many questions, the way you make me stop and think, the way you want to know more, or even when you want to know less. I love the way you guide your fork to my lips when you want me to try something from the absolute mountain of food we're sharing. I love your hand in mine. I love just...

"Steve, I love you." He catches himself whimpering around a sob, but it goes unnoticed right now by Eddie. Who steps closer. So close, the toes of their shoes clunking against each other. Eddie reaches out his hands and holds Steve's head up, palms on either cheek. The both of them crying. "And you tried to tell me that we should see other people. Because we're different, but then also we're too young, but then also this and that—It hurt so bad, to watch you visibly shrink away, disappear right out of the room.

"And baby, oh, baby—I'm obtuse sometimes, but I'm not stupid and neither are you. You aren't. But everything you said carried itself as these big, flashing neon signs of I'm not okay, something's wrong. You tried to trick me against it, but I could tell you were talking yourself into dumb, dumb circles.

"Do you not trust me?" Eddie asks carefully, "is that what happened? Did I do something to make you think that I was going to stop loving you?"

Steve shakes his head however much he can. Tries to swallow his tears, but to no avail. His words come out half-garbled. "No, I'm sorry."

Eddie tsks. "Stop apologizing," he whispers, "I want you to be honest with me, okay? Is there something I did?"

"No," he murmurs, "I just got too caught up."

"Too caught up in love?"

Steve shrugs. "In myself. Like...like maybe I was too many steps ahead. It felt like, sometimes, that maybe—But that's not fair to you because I just am hopeless, y'know. That's not on you. I don't know why I got so in my head."

"What's not fair to me, Steve? Please just tell me," Eddie presses.

Bursting, "It just felt like maybe you weren't on the same level or step as me, okay? Like I was letting myself get too ahead, too involved, too head first. And that's when I get to be too much. And that's when my partner usually pulls away. And I act like I'm blindsided, but it happens every time, Eddie!" Steve huffs, tries to shrug away, but Eddie only holds on tighter. "I just...I just didn't know, okay? I didn't know that you actually loved me. Which is stupid of me to think because, like, it was always so clear, now that I'm thinking about it. You care for me in ways nobody has. And even Dustin fucking saw it!

"I don't even know what I'm trying to say! That's how dumb this whole breakup thing was on my end. I don't have a real reason, okay? I just got too ahead of myself, I guess. And at the same time, I guess I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Because it does. It drops at some point."

Eddie tenderly wipes at Steve's cheeks. Drying his tears. Steve feels bad about it, that he hasn't even tried to reach out and do the same. But, selfish as it is, he soaks it all up anyway.

It may be the last time he gets it.

"Steve," Eddie whispers—even his voice is tender—"I have to be honest, it makes me sad to hear that you think of yourself...of our relationship like that. But I promise you that the other shoe was never going to drop."

"Eds, how am I supposed to believe that? Be real with me."

Eddie firmly grabs Steve's face. Holds them steady. "Look at me." He does. "I am so deeply, incredibly, and passionately in love with you. And I was a fool to not tell you before, but that's not your fault. We're both young and scared and want a lot, we both let that get in the way of things. And we didn't talk like this. But. Keep looking at me." Steve sniffs, but, again, he does what he's told. "I love you, Steve."

Steve sniffles again, tries to blink the tears out of his eyes—and he's crying all over again. "I love you, too, Eds," he mutters, nearly inaudible.

"Hey, Steve?"

"Hm?"

Whispering again, "I love you a crazy lot. I love you, I love you, I love you." Eddie gives him a small smile. "We were missing that, huh? You just needed to hear that."

"Eds," he sighs. Shakes his head to try and dislodge the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you. I am."

"Hey," Eddie murmurs, "I know, sweetheart. And...and I forgive you, even if maybe I'm jumping the gun on that. But I know I'm going to forgive you eventually. I love you too much to let you go."

"You should take your time"—

"I am in love with you. And I accept all ten trillion of your apologies that you're trying to queue up, okay? We are both damaged goods, in a lot—and I mean a lot—of ways. It doesn't feel right to me to put us in a place where we're walking on eggshells, waiting.

"I forgive you. And I love you. So endlessly." Eddie swipes his hands over either side of Steve's head, brushing hair behind his ears. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry that I didn't make it clear how deep in this I am with you. In case it's still not clear, if you propose to me tomorrow, I'm going to say yes."

Steve chuckles. "That's ridiculous."

"The right kind of ridiculous for us, though." Brushing through Steve's hair again, Eddie sighs. "I wish you would've told me how you were feeling, though," he whispers, "that way we could've avoided any sort of mess."

"I'll get better at talking," Steve swears. "I'm bad at it. I don't want to be bad at it. Not with you."

"We'll both get better at it, how about that?" Eddie smiles small again, tenderly caressing Steve's head. He leans it, slow and careful, and plants a gentle kiss against Steve's lips. "You're too important to just let go. I love you from here to our neighboring galaxy and back."

"I love you, too, Eds. God, I love you so much. That feels incredible to say."

Eddie pecks him again. Murmuring against Steve's lips, "Do you wanna come in and watch a movie with Dustin and I? I want your questions and commentary."

"That's gonna be annoying, though."

"Come inside and be annoying, then. I've got your Pringles in the snack cupboard and your root beer on standby. Some cuddles and kisses in there, too."

Steve smiles, can feel the way it crinkles the tip of his nose. As if he can't resist, Eddie smacks another kiss, yet to Steve's nose this time. "I'll give you all the makeup cuddles in the world, Eds. Hold my hand the entire time, though?"

"And let 'em get all sweaty and gross? Hell yeah, baby. All the hand holding for you."

They've got a little ways to go, more potholes to pave, but it feels better to do it side by side, thigh warm against thigh, every question answered, and both hands held.

💕—————💕

[fairy-princette]

SPOTLIGHT!

[samtamdan]

[taxinealkaloids]

the unwanted guest faux theatrical poster because i too wanted a chance to draw all the ianthes

[soothifying-sounds-asmr]

I was accepted to a paid video editing internship and a lot of the work is very reminiscent of what I used to do here. It makes me so happy to know that my silly little Tumblr blog gave me good practice :3 I hope everyone is doing well <3 Tell me what you're going to be for Halloween!

[yip-e-coyote]

Finally drew the rest of the team!

As well as some mutated Loonatics. They’re having a Normal time:

*click for better quality*

[periwinklefemur]

One of my headcanons for Jazzpunk would have to be that to others, Polyblanka appears as a clump of static due to him being an espionage agent.

Features such as his hair and overall silhouette aren't affected, and neither are the clothes he dons. HOWEVER! His face is entirely devoid of defining features, appearing as a shifting blur of black, white, and grey pixels, akin to a corrupted transmission.

Additionally, with his body being composed of static, he lacks the usual warmth or sensation that human flesh has. Standing near or making contact with him replicates the fuzzy, tingling sensation of a CRTV screen.

It should also be known that this extra layer of protection—his disguise—can be damaged. (Similarly in a way of cracking open a crab leg to expose the soft, tender flesh residing within.) Whether intentional or not, depending on how much damage he takes in a specific area, fractures will begin to form, splintering outward and weakening with each hit. Eventually, a piece of his static-exoskeleton may fizzle out, briefly revealing glimpses of his fleshy-yet-freshly-bruised form beneath.

And you know damn well that while spying on Polyblank, the Editor would demand that his operatives gather as many pictures exposing Polyblank's 'true' self as possible. Whether a bruised eye, a busted lip, or even the faintest hint of a dimple, he didn't care. He’s determined to piece together a collage in order to reconstruct Polyblank’s true face from the scattered fragments, no matter how incomplete they may be.

[chasedeys]

joemarr pinky shake except joe's not even fully on screen 😔

[mxcottonsocks]

- chapter 1, A Tale of Two Cities (1859) by Charles Dickens

Catch up with the first 3 chapters (sent out before today 5th May 2025), and sign up to have the remaining chapters sent to you by email, 1 or 2 chapters a week until November, following the original serialisation schedule from 1859:

[kindred-spirit-93]

sad achaean boi hours

i take it back digital art is the shit. LOOK AT HOW MISERABLE MY SON LOOKS LMAO <3

line art and first attempt from my phone!! idk how sustainable doodling on my laptop is; my neck is killing me already and i had a hard time figuring out the program (guess who likes to give up on things if she doesnt figure it out within 3 minutes lol) BUT i experimented on ma notes app of all things and we are so back XD

adore how it turned out; used the pencil to give it the pencil vibe lmao and i love it!! not bad for a first attempt :3

directors cut of alternative profiles; messed around with nose shape (right) and the chin on both. i call it the achilles chin lol

taking a second to appreciate the floof. bro looks majestic omfg

[something-about-sunflowers]

EDIT: HOLY SHIT

I wasn't expecting to hit my goal, let alone exceed it! But exceed it did! I'm at 131% of my 1,200$ goal! Thank you all so much for sharing and an extra thank you to those who gave what they could! 💚 💚 💚 💚 💚 💚 💚

Hi, I hate doing this, but I have a bit more reach here than I do in other places:

My family is behind on rent (behind on a lot of things, tbf, which is WHY we're behind on rent) and we got this lovely letter on our door today:

I am fully aware that I have been on record several times saying that I don't share donation posts (because I have no way of verifying if the post I am sharing is a real person or not), so I fully do not expect anything from anyone, but I would be remiss if I didn't try at all.

I have a Ko-fi donation goal set up if anyone can spare anything at all to help: https://ko-fi.com/arty_sunflowers/goal?g=12

I have just about 300$ in my account right now and I am short in the range of 1,200$; Anything helps.

[khainovo]

hi. so i actually have no self control and just made a half-assed one myself (in hopes someone takes this idea and 100x the effort)

in reference to this post i made on saturday

[deoidesign]

vampire and werewolf sitting in a tree

time trav e l i n g

first comes. trying to kill eachother then comes... learning you're his dead ex-lover then comes marriage!

(you can buy the book this scene is from for $15 it's really good. it's the fan favorite of the series!)