#one of those good writing days ^_^

[songsofreason]

between "He hasn't been in a library in so long and while Vergil would never say he missed them because devils do not miss anything at all, two tears silently track down his cheekbones and fall. He doesn't feel those either / DEVILS NEVER CRY." and "Most people look peaceful when they sleep--Cam has never looked peaceful a day in her life, Vergil thinks. She probably came into this world pissed off. He doesn't realize he's smiling to himself." i'm lowkey spitting today

[egophiliac]

I loved your drawing(and I love your style in general) with Leia in your recent post! If/when you have time can we see more of her in your style? I get so happy whenever I actually see people mention/talk about her and she’s not just forgotten because we didn’t get to see much of her. 😭

thank you! 💙💙💙 Leia/Leah/Lea/whatever is fascinating to me. she is the ultimate unknown. what was she like? how involved (or even aware of any details of the invasion) was she? Silver's basically a physical carbon copy of his biodad, so what did he get from her? like, I understand why the two of them kind of have to stay as these super vague and mysterious figures -- the whole point of them is that their story ended 400+ years ago and they're not really relevant anymore (and. well. the more that gets explained about them, the less that can just kinda be handwaved as "oh the politics were Very Messy") (we can sit here and theorize all day but let us acknowledge that, ultimately, canon gave us almost nothing about them post-Meleanor and we'd just be making things up). I do still wonder about her though! RIP Lea, we never knew you and we probably never will.

actually you know what, as long as we're here, I think I WILL go ahead and just make some stuff up about what Silver might've inherited from her instead.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Sunrise, Parabellum.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[royalarchivist]

Technoblade: Before I get any comments from people saying, "Uh Technoblade– ☝️🤓 Actually I live in the San Francisco Bay area, and the weather here isn't as perfect as you say! I think you might be blinded by nostalgia–"

Technoblade: I'd just like to say that I am a perfectly objective source of information, how DARE you question me, get banned.

[ Full Transcript ↓ ]

—

Technoblade: You know, when I first got to college, I had a conversation with a local student where I mentioned I was from California, and they heard that and said, "Oh, you're from California? Have you ever been here during the winter?" and I said "Oh, no no, I haven't" and they just kinda like, stared at me in silence for a few seconds, and then just said: "Good luck!" And then moved on with the conversation like that wasn't the most ominous thing I'd ever heard in my life. What? What do you mean "good luck"?!

Technoblade: One time I went to Texas, sometimes I visited North Carolina during the summer, and I was like, "Why is it so hot here?" but I just figured, "You know what, it can't be this hot everywhere during summer, that'd be ridiculous! Why would anyone subject themselves to these conditions?"

Technoblade: I didn't realize that California was unusual. So you know, I'd listen to like– Sir Alliser Thorne in Game of Thrones rant about, "Oh, you don't know cold!" tellin' us about how, he had like, been in some blizzard– blizzard, and during like, sub-zero temperatures, and I'm sitting here like, "No, no, I- I'm pretty sure I understand what cold is, one time it dropped to 60 degrees Fahrenheit and I had to turn on my car's seat warmers. I'm pretty sure I understand man's epic struggle against nature."

Technoblade: Before I get any comments from people saying, "Uh Technoblade– actually I live in the San Francisco Bay area, and the weather here isn't as perfect as you say! I think you might be blinded by nostalgia–" I'd just like to say that I am a perfectly objective source of information, how DARE you question me, get banned.

[ Video: why is the midwest so cold help ]

[hitlikehammers]

🍪That One Time Wayne Munson Got Gifted Some Homemade Cookies (by the man who’s also His Boy), Some Time to Listen to His Love-Drunk Nephew💍, and Some Opportunities to Answer Questions He Already Knows the Answers To (plus a bonus chance to celebrate Elizabeth Munson—God rest her soul) but Still Got NO COFFEE 🫠

☕️OR: 3/5 times Steve/Eddie talk to anyone but each other about their feelings (for each other), +1 (other time they turn around and talk to one another)

“Stevie made those.”

Wayne turns when he hears his nephew’s voice, the fancy Tupperware still in his hand.

“Figured as much,” Wayne shakes the box; “sure as hell wasn’t you.”

He expects Eddie to squawk, all self-righteous with not half-a-foot to shake on; but he hears Eddie come in just from his footsteps; how he leans against the doorway.

Wayne thinks Eddie’s comfortable way of being in this space is how this little house of theirs has been a place he’s been able to really think of as a home.

“I mean, he made me a batch, and you a batch,” Eddie leans his whole body toward where Wayne’s holding the Hershey-capped cookies: “those are all yours.”

Wayne looks down at the container in his hands, feels something complicated in his throat he don’t have a name for, but is a feeling he is finding himself coming close with more and more these days.

“He gonna be around later?” Wayne asks, gruffer than he means, or expects: but should have done.

Pesky thing in his throat, and all.

“If he gets off work at a decent time,” Eddie answers with a dramatic sigh before his face screws up in distaste as he adds; “inventory.”

Wayne hopes it goes quick; hopes everybody was kind and did rewind or…whatever inventory entails at a video store. He wants very much to thank the boy for his treats—and them being exclusively left for him—Eddie takes the Hershey-tops and leaves the cookie, always has. Grinds Wayne’s gears somethin’ awful.

And Wayne wouldn’t have pegged Harrington as a thoughtful boy, save maybe about the balance of his bank account, if he’d been asked to lodge an opinion on the kid sight-unseen; he admittedly hadn’t heard the name among those he sometimes caught of his Ed complaining about whatever hubbub had taken over the ‘preps and jocks’ in ‘the fiefdom of Hawkins High’.

To his shame as a good supportive listener, but the necessity of his sanity, Wayne mostly tuned out what came after those sorts of words when his nephew went off on one of his…opining spells.

Harrington was only a bit player, though, that Wayne was fairly sure of, simply because he only noticed that name on behalf of his daddy, out of all the names he took little to no notice of at all. And Wayne didn’t notice all that much.

He always perked up for it, and the overarching memory of whatever always followed was mild and tame in comparison to what he expected from the son and heir of that rat bastard.

Most recently, before all hell broke loose and Wayne came to know any better, Ed had been consumed with something of a conspiracy theory involving his new crop of ‘sheepies’ and his dungeon club being bamboozled by a…conniving Harrington seeking to corrupt them into, if Wayne understands correctly, the sins of having a reliable ride to the arcade, to the city for their little dragon supplies, and transportation safely home after dark in the winter.

Also being ‘normal’, which: Wayne knows his boy well enough to at least understand that is indeed an unacceptable offense.

But then all hell had broken loose, and the first time Wayne sees Steve Harrington up close for himself is at his boy’s bedside in clearly pilfered scrubs, which track with how he’s got an IV pole next to him where he sits—he was probably as much a gown-covered patient as Eddie is on the bed in front of them.

I’m sorry, are the first rough, tar-scraped words Wayne heard Harrington say, even if his eyes never leave Eddie to say them. Probably he suspects only family’s allowed in, and maybe already recognizes the sounds of the nurses, and knows that ain’t Wayne.

But those are these words Wayne hears for himself from Steve Harrington.

I’m sorry, followed close by: I couldn’t stop it, I couldn’t save him, I got him here as quick as I could, I swear, I—

And that’s where Wayne had walked up and put a careful hand on this kid’s shoulder, even if he’d tended under the touch—or tried to, like his instinct was to go still but there was some deeper thing that trembled harder, unstoppable no matter how he tried—but Wayne set a hand on that shoulder, where the boy sat at his nephew’s bedside, while Wayne pointed out the important bit:

You did save ‘im, though, and Wayne had waited for the kid to look up, eyes rimmed red and expression just damn…shattered, but Wayne, as much as he’d been feeling much the same himself, he’d nodded toward the bed until the boy had followed the gaze to the very point Wayne had been trying to make, the why for how he’s only feeling shattered and nothing worse: his boy is there on that bed. His chest’s risin’ and falling. The monitor counting his heartbeats is steady.

This young man did save his boy. He tried, and he succeeded in the trying.

And that had been Wayne’s first real impression of Steve Harrington. Nothing like his daddy’s money. No nefarious plots, neither.

Hadn’t gone lost on him that nobody’d come to usher him back to wherever he’d come from with that gown and that line in his own arm, not for hours.

Wayne’s shaken free from his mulling when Eddie opens the fridge, grabs a beer—offers one to Wayne as if the man hadn’t just got up for the goddamn day and hadn’t even started his pot of coffee first.

Though, in honest fact: Eddie probably would grab a beer if he wanted one, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Crazy kid.

“He asked me to call and let him know if you want him to pick up pizza or chicken for dinner.”

It takes Wayne a second—maybe he’s the one who needs to shake off the sleep—but…nope. Nope, Eddie means Steve, there, because who else would come over with takeout, expecting the obvious that Wayne’s pretty damn sure Eddie also mentioned already:

“You just said,” Wayne starts and Eddie pops back out of the refrigerator, leans against the doors to push it closed.

“Robin said she’ll cover for him to bring it over, even if he can’t stay,” Eddie shrugs with a bright grin, and Wayne’s hit with the dregs of thinking back to that bright grin pulled tight under bandages, that spring up from a crouch to ransack the fridge stilled, battered, a question mark in the future of Wayne’s whole world—tries to shake it off before Eddie notices; “so that whatever you pick is here before you’re off.”

Wayne shouldn’t have worried about being noticed for dipping too close to the remnants of what it felt like to dance so long on the edges of grief in thinking on the hospital before—he’s teetering on the very opposite, here and now. Because Steve Harrington in theory really was the last person Wayne could imagine holding any positive feeling toward.

But as it stands: he don’t know what life looks like anymore without both his boys, safe and sound.

His eyes slide to one of those boys and notices how he’s staring off into nothing….except no. Not nothing. The counter where he’s got his hands propped now. And Wayne maybe’s only seeing from the side but…he doesn’t think he’s ever seen that kind of stare on his kid.

And his Eddie’s always been prone to just…staring off into space.

“What’s got you starin’ like that?” he asks, more suspiciously than concerned. Not least for the grin teasing the corner of Eddie’s mouth that Wayne can see.

“He gave me a ring.”

Eddie says it, voice low, never looking away from what Wayne presumes is that exact ring. He’s quietly entranced for a good near-on minute before he turns to Wayne, sobers a touch, but really only the slightest bit.

“Not like,” Eddie starts, then he pauses; bites his lips like it’s both incredibly simple and obvious and mighty complicated, all at once.

“I think he was raised too fancy not to ask you first,” Eddie lands on, spaces the words out slow; “for that.”

“Don’t need my permission,” Wayne half-grouses, more…not offended, but maybe closer to concerned—somewhere in the middle. That the boy would think to need his okay, but at the same crossing, to even second-guess he’s long since more’n had it, either way.

“He knows that,” Ed shoots back simply, definitive-like, which sets something more rustled-up than Wayne had expected it’d get back now to ease.

Before he tips Wayne’s world over in a whole other way, instead.

“He would want your blessing.”

The knowing glint in Eddie’s eyes is…Wayne’s not sure he’s had it turned back on him like that before. Knocks him a little crooked for the surprise of it before the words themselves knock him clear over—he’d never thought about being the person someone’d ask, like that.

Wouldn’t hesitate a second for Steve but…knowing the boy thinks well on you versus hearing, confident-like, that he’d seek out Wayne’s approval of the kinda feelings that have been clear from the early days and seem to grow more, and bigger, everything say, just…

Goddamn.

“But he said this was a temporary placeholder,” Eddie says it with such a smile in the words, his face all sunshine as he admires his left ring finger: always bare up to now, Wayne’s pretty sure; “I think he wants to wait until after I graduate.”

“Smart boy,” Wayne nods, gets back his footing a bit more; “gives you some extra motivation to cross the finish.”

And Eddie squawks his indignation right on schedule for it.

“Excuse you, I am doing very extremely passably in all my classes.”

“And I’m proud of ya for it,” Wayne nods, truthful as anything; “don’t mean a little extra nudge ain’t appreciated.”

That bit’s truthful too.

“Or a…colossal extra nudge,” Eddie concedes, tries to play petulant but his grin too big, too full to bite back any longer as he sighs, drapes himself a little more boneless over the precarious creak given by the kitchen chair he’s lounged in.

“He read my paper over, without bothering to tell mehe had a migraine coming on,” Eddie grouses, but he’s so goddamn fond about it through the worry; “sneaky bastard grabbed it up before I could get home to notice the signs it was imminent,” he whines a little more before gesturing out the window at the overcast sky: “not that I’d need to, with this fuckin’ weather.”

And Wayne will give Eddie that—scatterbrained and easily distracted as he’s always been? His biggest distraction is Steve. Steve’s whereabouts and safety, his well-being and caretaking—just Steve.

It’s…it’s heartwarming, Wayne can’t even think up a good way around that as the explanation that best suits.

“Stubborn,” is the explanation that Wayne vocalizes though, already figuring he’s roped into this conversation, and with an inkling where it could still turn?

He needs to save up his softest moments just in case.

“Gotta be why you’re so fond o’ each other,” Wayne hums like he’s reached some stunning realisation; “opposites attract sometimes as much as like finds like,” and Wayne always has reckoned these two maybe found the best of both in one near-world-ending go.

“Tried to tell me he just figured it wasn’t relevant,” Eddie rolls his eyes, brings it back to Steve as he usually tends to with most things, these days; “said it’s not like his eyes on my writing are worth anything anyway, because he’s, well,” and Ed straightens up there, expression hardening a little.

“He tried to call himself something offensive and also untrue, so I stopped him, but,” and Wayne knows well that argument. He’s taken to stopping it himself more’n once.

“Boy won’t accept his smarts are just as good as those rugrats you got,” Wayne says with conviction; “just look different, his do, s’all.”

Wayne doesn’t come from top-of-the-class stock, but he knows intelligence. In the field, in battle, in working hard with your hands, in honest everyday know-how. Recognizes it well in Steve, where Steve was probably only taught college meant smart, and anything other was just different, but mostly worthless.

Wayne really would enjoy a free shot at Steve’s daddy’s jaw, just once.

Cause he’d only need the once to break the sucker.

“Exactly,” Eddie sighs with an odd amount of enthusiasm, only person Wayne’s ever seen infuse a sigh with so much; “and all that, even without believing that he was willing to put himself in pain to make sure I didn’t miss a fuckin’ comma.”

Less than a minute’s-worth of quiet settles before Eddie’s back to talkin’—‘bout the same subject, of course, as per usual.

“He’s gonna help me with the van,” he announces, and that’s good to hear because that van…needs all the helping hands it can get, for as often as Eddie’s on Steve’s good graces for a ride these days.

Though Wayne don’t think Steve minds one lick.

“Next weekend, when he’s off,” Eddie’s elaborating, as if always his way, but Wayne feels…different with this. It’s as rambling as Eddie ever ends up being but, also it’s…it feels like it’s building up to something. Bolstering some other thing, though hell Wayne can suss out what. “He’s, like, really good with cars? Probably because of how much he pampers his—”

“Don’t gotta sell me on the boy, son,” Wayne finally cuts him off, “I know he’s good people,” which was a surprise he shouldn’t have made assumptions on without seeing for himself.

“And I know he’s good for you.”

And that, once he’d gotten clear of the assuming? That, Wayne had been sure on quick and with no doubts at all.

But his Ed still beams for it, red still high on his cheeks like every time he thinks of his boy is the brand new, first blush and everything.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks in that way that don’t require no answer.

But Wayne has one, for this, so he’s gonna give it anyway.

“That boy watches you like you walk on water,” Wayne scoffs, because he might’a known Eddie long enough to clock his heartsick ass from the get-go, but Steve wasn’t ever so hard to read, even at the start. By now, though?

“Looks at you like you shat the stars out and hung them for show.”

Ed looks up at the ceiling for a second, drags his hair to hide his face as he blushes full-on now and grins like anything. Wayne just enjoys the opportunity he never expected to get: seein’ his boy not just this happy, but so damn in love.

“He sees the best and worst in you, Ed, has seen youat your best and worst, and he still looks at you that way for all of it,” Wayne feels compelled to underscore the point, the uncommon magic in it all—here. After everything, sure, but: here, in all the world. “Not in spite of all of it, but for all of it,” and it’s true. Steve loves Eddie toe-to-toe, inside and out. Like Eddie loves—almost uncanny for the match of them.

“Kid loves the hell outta you,” Wayne comments definitive-like as he finally goes to get a mug from the cupboard—only to turn around and meet his boy’s too-surprised stare, those big eyes damn-near shocked at Wayne’s sureness, like he don’t have eyes.

“D’ya really think I’da been keepin’ my mouth shut if I didn’t think he was right for you, loved you right?” Wayne asks, which: it’s mostly meant for the way Wayne specifically makes his opinions known. Which are less about opening his mouth and more about certain combinations to grunting and narrowing his eyes—he ain’t foolish to his own peculiarities.

But this doesn’t qualify for any of that, so.

“World’s not always done right by you,” Wayne lets himself say a little softer, a little more…care-true around the vulnerable things. Ain’t ever been his strong suit but: for Eddie.

And for Steve.

“But for all it’s done wrong?” Wayne works a pointed brow. “I’m fairly sure puttin’ the two o’ you together’s something like it trying to make amends.”

Eddie smiles at that, the small kind he does when his heart’s in it most, but then he looks…earnest in a soft, almost-sober way before he says, dead serious:

“It was worth it.”

Wayne stills at the words—not because he’s that surprised, more just that…hearing ‘em out loud hits different.

Takes him back to those early first days where it was all by-the-hour, in God’s hands someone in the waiting room tried comforting him before he was allowed by Eddie’s bedside—cold comfort, that, when Wayne didn’t know he believed in those hands at all.

Just don’t tell his Ma, might be what sends her to her grave.

“I know you don’t agree,” Eddie sighs, but that’s…

“I didn’t say that.”

Eddie levels him with a doubtful kind of stare.

“Your face speaks for itself, old man.”

Wayne takes his time, sucks his lips: ain’t that simple. And he wants to try and get some words to fit right, when he’s not sure there are any that fit the bill—sure ain’t sure he’s the one to find them.

But for his boy? He’ll damn well try.

“I think you gotta make a lot of assumptions, to get t’that conclusion,” Wayne thinks through out loud—the idea that nearly losing his Ed was worth anything is unthinkable, but…Wayne ain’t blind, yeah? He sees all the signs of Eddie’s heart in this.

Sees Steve’s, too.

“But it���s not likely you’d have crossed paths like you did,” Wayne nods slow; “better part of a year o’ him ferrying those kids from your club and,” Wayne gives a pfft to underscore his point:

“Nothin’.”

So maybe it wouldn’t have needed to be so drastic, so close to heartbreaking, to get his boy next to the man he loved so deeply. But…history weren’t exactly on the side of that argument.

Heartbreaking as that fact was on its own.

“That poor girl, that would have happened either way.”

Eddie’s expression drops and Wayne hates that but: heartbreaking as it, too, was?

There’s truth to it. Wayne knows enough—and onlyenough—of the cursedness of this town, more of how it’s hurt people he cares about.

“Sometimes my worst nightmares don’t take me to the hospital, but a prison cell.”

Wayne’s voice is rougher than he wants. Eddie’s probably more still, and frozen quick with it? Than hewants.

At least not to be seen for it but: it still cuts. Like as much, it always will.

“I don’t know how I could have protected you,” Wayne admit a truth he holds with shame in his chest, much as he knows—or else, Hopper’s told him as often from the source, as much as Steve and Eddie have made clear in their own ways dancing around a truth Wayne bristles, but understand he’ll never know the whole of. “I would have died tryin’, but even if it was just the police, I,” he shakes his head, sighs out slow; “and the fuckin’ people of this town,” and that’s where he’s made more of anger than guilt because even now: this fuckin’ town.

“Ain’t words for how grateful I am to him, bringin’ you back,” Wayne says because it’s where his opinion of Steve Harrington truly started;

“But he’s like as my own now, for how he’s stayed,” and Wayne don’t speak words like those idly. Or lightly.

And Eddie knows it.

But Wayne knows in kind that his words ain’t no gate being lifted. Weren’t no way of convincing Eddie to say the words he follows with next. No: the words that follow?

Those were ones Eddie’s been sittin’ on. Holding close in his chest long enough that Wayne can hear the soul o’ him colorin’ every goddamn letter:

“I want Mom’s ring.”

And there it is. The thing he was maybe suspecting was coming—finally; what his softer feelings needing saving up for.

“What, no,” Eddie asks when Wayne doesn’t reply right away, less shaking with anything like hesitance, more like squaring up in case he needs to be defiant, needs to defend the love he’s damn well vibrating with; “no nothing?”

And see: Wayne’s been keeping Eddie’s mama’s ring safe since she passed—knew a boy that young couldn’t understand why it mattered, and then when he did grow old enough, Eddie’s asked him to keep hold of it. Don’t let me be stupid with it, Wayne remembers it clear as day, when they both knew that instruction was pointed less at the empty field of possible proposals to be made for Ed in Hawkins and far more at the possible temptation to pawn it, for rent or groceries, in the best of cases. And Wayne would rather have starved than lost this piece of Elizabeth, especially when Eddie has so few after Al’s endless string of idiocy, of cruelties and straight-said fuckups, Wayne can’t call ‘em less than they are.

So Wayne had kept hold of the ring.

And had got it shined up nice in a brand new pouch and everything, the first night he found Eddie asleep on Steve’s chest on the sofa, T.V. still on to static, clinging to him as hard as Steve was clinging back with one hand, stretched protective almost over Eddie’s chest, curling over and again ‘round his hair with the other, idle-honest affection even in his sleep.

It hadn’t been the first sign. Or the second. Or the hundredth. But it had been how Wayne had been sure of them, for whatever his own opinion in it counted for at all—again, they don’t need his permission to love.

But that was when his blessing went from full-throated to full-chested, whole-hearted. When Steve had slid from family, to his boy, too.

“Boy,” Wayne meets his other boy with a bit of pu-upon indignation of his own, learned from the master of it sat gaping like a fish before him, and Wayne ultimately can’t hold onto it when the smirk’s just too hard to fight; “you think I ain’t had that at the ready for months? Waiting on you to ask,” he puts his thoughts into words for sharing, which is always a task for him but is getting easier, with Ed. With Steve in a new way, for the chord it struck in him to get to know that boy, as under-appreciated and worn down on the inside as he’d been—save for how he’d loved Eddie brighter than the sun through all of it.

“He’s family already, Ed, s’far as I’m concerned.”

And Eddie closes his mouth, and his eyes look too sparkly, so Wayne clears his throat and looks away to let him…let those tears free or not, and make that decision for himself without an audience.

“Found a guy at the plant, knows someone who can try to resize it, though probably safer to reset it on another band, but,” Wayne folds his hands and locks the fingers, tapping them on his thighs in thought, but also with meaning:

“Bert thinks you could cut the original, somehow embed it inside something bigger, more like yours.” He points to Eddie’s collection, even his latest placeholder—as thick and right for his boy as it could possibly be.

As Steve would obviously know, and make damn sure if.

“No matter,” Wayne says, peeks to see if Eddie’s decided whether he needs some extra space with his feelings, closer to the surface now than they’d ever dared to be before—the doctors warned it could happen after he was discharged but Wayne knows it’s not that. It’s being soft-hearted and having something like what he’s found, to want his mama’s ring; “however you want it done,” and Wayne sees Eddie’s just blinking, red-rimmed but wiped mostly dry.

“However he wants it, to be honest,” Eddie’s breath in is a shaky thing, but it’s true, it’s a thing Wayne can recognize as devotion without trying even to look. “I just want him to have every piece of me he can, y’know? All of me,” and his voice cracks, and now Eddie’s the one who’s clearing his throat to get some footing: “everything I can, every way I can.”

And then he looks up properly, and meets Wayne’s eyes, means every single word when he says the most important part, the most honest thing—the most obvious truth:

“He’s my heart, y’know?”

And the only thing Wayne can think is: he’s found a good one, Lizzie, you’d be so proud of your boy.

So proud of this boy, for your boy.

“And he already graduated, so,” Eddie picks at his nails, the way he does when he makes a smart ass side comment he wants to flag to Wayne that he’s making, but smooth-like. Wayne might be old, now, but he remembers what counted for smooth—and this was never it; “nothing I need to hold it back for as motivation.”

Wayne goes ahead let’s a snort loose to at least acknowledge Ed’s poor attempt, score he shoots for the core of the matter:

“Boy,” he shakes his head with a loose grin, the kind that’s ready to grow as and when needed: “maybe you’ve got yourself a mighty fine placeholder ring,” he nods down to Eddie’s hand and hell, but Eddie’s already admiring the thing at the slightest suggestion, if’n he ever entirely stopped at all.

“But he was never ‘round here with nothing but his whole heart for you,” Wayne says, one of the surest things he knows in this world.

“Almost as obvious as you with it,” he lets himself smirk a little for how Eddie goes a little red, but shineswith it so goddamn bright.

S’just another sure thing Wayne knows.

“Lemme go get you that ring,” Wayne gets to his feet and heads further past the table, waits out Eddie’s confusion, and the inevitable ask:

“You keep it in the kitchen?”

And so what if he did? Wayne lets Eddie dog his steps all the way in before he flips the Mr. Coffee on—fucking finally.

“I ain’t had my coffee yet,” Wayne turns, raises a daring, of teasing kind of brow Eddie’s way as he goes to grab the mug he’s fetched before, lest it feel abandoned; “and my son-in-law-to-be baked me blossoms,” he pops open the Tupperware and breathes in the peanut butter deep; maybe a little extra dramatic because he’s actually pretty tickled to be able to say that for his own self: son-in-law-to-be.

Not that Steve wasn’t already family, but, y’know. Something in the words, out loud.

But still:

“I’m allowed a detour.”

The ring’s waited this long, for something that’s been true all this time already. It can stand a cup-o-joe and some homemade cookies with risk of gettin’ abandonment issues.

1: Gareth // 2: Mrs. Harrington // 3: Wayne // 4: Chrissy // 5: ??? // +1: ???

☕️

✨also on ao3

💫for @penny00dreadful—happiest of happy birthdays, my lovely 🖤

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divider credit, weird as it is: ME ☕️🍪

[lyxchen]

Okay so I've heard this said a bunch of times and I'm gonna admit I thought like that too for a while but no, Gi-hun did not win the games because he was lucky. A lot of people think that's how he won because he never killed anybody but that's really not the point. Gi-hun won the games because a) he's smart and is able to look at things from a different angle, b) because he is a good and kind person who also believes in others and c) because of the goodness and care get got back from other people.

In the first game he survived because Ali saved him and that wasn't luck, that was Ali being a good person and helping somebody not get killed. Ali could've not caught him, let him die, he didn't even know Gi-hun at all at that point and he put himself in more danger too by having to hold on to a person while standing completely still but he still saved Gi-hun because Ali is a good person.

In the Dalgona game he quite literally Was Not Lucky. He decided to go with the umbrella which is the worst shape to pick and he probably would have died if he hadn't looked at the game in a different way and decided to change his strategy. Gi-hun is smart. He is also optimistic and so he tried something new and found a different way to beat that game.

In the third game he survived because he was smart and kind enough to listen to Il-nam. The other people in their group dismissed him as just an old man speaking but Gi-hun didn't and that way they had a good strategy to beat the other team. The same goes for him listening to Sang-woo's idea of running three steps and then stopping, which ultimately was what saved them. His group also chose him as their leader (who, as Il-nam said, needs to not seem weak or loose hope because then the whole team is doomed). His team trusted in him and his optimism and they were right to do so.

In the marbles game he won because he was once again kind and decided to team up with Il-nam and also because in the end Il-nam decided to "sacrifice himself" for Gi-hun because he showed him kindness before. Yes Il-nam didn't actually die but he also knew that Gi-hun had cheated and still let him continue on to the next game, probably because Gi-hun had been good and kind and caring towards him before, even though he really didn't have to be. Gi-hun also didn't know this but by teaming up with Il-nam he inadvertently ensured that Il-nam had a lot more fun in the games than he would have had, had everybody just ignored to "old, fragile man". Gi-hun was good to Il-nam throughout all the games and it ended up saving him in the marbles game.

In the fifth game it's only some small moments as Gi-hun isn't really involved in the game because he's the last number but still it wasn't just luck. First of all he was kind enough to give the number 1 to the player that asked him for it. Yes, that number was bad but he didn't know that and had he been selfish enough to say no to that other player he wouldn't have survived. Being the last to play in any game can end up being bad for you, still he decided to give up the number he picked because the other player asked him to. Secondly he also survived that game because Sae-byeok was kind enough to remind him of which glass tile to step on after he had forgotten which one it was. It's only small but she didn't have to tell him and still she did. Sae-byeok btw is also good to him because before that he was good to her and protected her (even though he was angry at her at first) and that way he was able to gain her trust.

Lastly he won the Squid Game because Gi-hun was kind to Sang-woo and because Sang-woo deep down was still a good person. There were probably many reasons as to why Sang-woo decided to kill himself in the end but part of it, I'm sure, was also because Gi-hun was a good friend to him. I mean Gi-hun was even willing to give up all the money and go back home with nothing gained if it meant that Sang-woo didn't have to die and would be able to come home with him. Gi-hun deserved that win and that money and in the end Sang-woo knew that. He also knew that Gi-hun would make sure to take care of Sang-woo's mother and that he wouldn't just take all the money for himself because Sang-woo knew that Gi-hun is a good person. (Gi-hun technically also won the Squid Game because he was good at it which is also him being smart)

So in conclusion and I hope y'all haven't stopped reading yet: Gi-hun didn't win the games because he was lucky. He didn't just sit around doing nothing and won anyways. He won because he was smart but even more importantly he won because of the kindness and goodness that exists in humans and that is especially present in him. He won because he had empathy, because people trusted him, because he got back from them what he gave to them first. He never killed anyone and we can clearly see that he Could Never kill anyone in those games but that's not his weakness. Just because he didn't let himself get corrupted and turned into what the games wanted him to turn into doesn't mean he won because of luck. Him not playing by those subtle, hidden rules that are made to force him to be bad, to not care about others and to give up his kindness actually means he was better than the games. He won because he didn't let them turn him into a monster. They tried really hard and they failed and that's how he won!! But also on top of that he also won because he isn't the only good person in this show. He also won because other people helped him, were kind to him and gave a shit about him. Each and every person that helped Gi-hun didn't have to do that. They all could have not helped him, Ali could have not caught him, Sae-byeok could have not told him which one was the correct glass tile, hell, she could have Lied to him about it and the only difference it would have made for the other players would have been them being one more dead person closer to winning all that money. But that's really not how humans are and act which is why all these people helped Gi-hun, helped each other in small or big ways and in the end his own kindness and the kindness that exists in other people is what lead to Gi-hun winning. That's not luck. That humans being good

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

The fans: Ugh Sonic was just so preachy. I mean obviously he's supposed to be the good guy, so any uncomfortableness I feel here and any way I feel like Sonic's choices are framed as being why some other people have shitty lives is just bad writing because he is obviously supposed to be right always, but this characterization makes no sense. Isn't he right for the things he did?

Ian Flynn, using Kitsunami to say the (barely even at this point) quiet part even louder: Hey it's almost like ever since the Mr. Tinker event we've been purposely running with the critique of Sonic as being more selfish than he appears. Sonic is upholding a system of Eggman v Sonic that currently benefits him and shuts down talk of how to improve the current system because he likes his own personal enjoyment and he's attached enough to Eggman that he'd rather Eggman pretend to be a good person than be stuck in prison for life. He doesn't even quite practice what he preaches. We are trying to show that the current hero v villain system and Sonic's recklessness currently affects some people poorly and that Sonic isn't a perfect hero.

[whumpacabra]

Whump that is about change. Whump that is about acceptance. Whump that is about adapting to loss. Whump where there is no rehabilitation, no getting back what’s gone. Sometimes things happen and there is no going back, there is no getting better. Sometimes the person that comes out the other side is different and they will never be the same again. Sometimes you need to grapple with the reality that most people don’t bounce back from traumatic brain injuries, from severe burns, from lost limbs and are their old selves ever again.

Whump that is about change, with no going back, and how the world won’t end because of it.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[apotelesmaa]

I find it incredibly funny that emu and rui are made out to be the most academically talented out of the wxs unit given that they both also need to be babysat anytime the group goes out in public. Their boundless intelligence and unending whimsy is matched only by their need to get sillay.

[ajdrawshq]

chapter 4 yipp e!!!!!!!

[lovesodeepandwideandwell]

🏘️

[bajaja-blast]

ik we’re all entitled to our own opinions, but ngl some of y’all are making me feel like a wanted criminal for liking Cracker Island, Song Machine & Humanz :/

[starry-sophrosyne]

me realizing i havent ever posted my initial designs for tox and leo/ive stopped talked about ttos as a whole:

[smokingcitrus]

as unkempt as he always was, i'd like to think that birkin at least tried to look put together in his early days. the middle part was him trying to look professional past the hairs sticking in every direction and the back of his haircut never looking quite right.

his mother's nagging about his appearance seemed to linger in the back of his mind even after he moved out, going days, weeks, years without talking to her. any real meaning or even importance behind the self-grooming was lost, boiled down to habit. taking a minute to pick through his matted hair with a broken comb in the morning was a ritual that kept him sane. it grounded him.

the evential side part was him letting go of the half-cobbled man that he used to be, relinquishing what little identity he had in pursuit of finishing his life's work. even until his final moments, golgotha had always come first.

[necrotic-nephilim]

for the ask game (3)

au where all robins develop a mental link after fighting some magical criminal of the week. what would they see in each other's minds? what secrets and repressed feelings do they discover? how would they deal with it?

for the ask game!

oooh, i love telepathic links that end up revealing secrets. especially with a family like the Batfam, who are usually so convinced they're good enough at reading each other to not have many secrets kept. so weird reveals are always fun

if i did this, i'd do DamiTim. just because of all the like, "deep dark feelings that are being hidden" for Robin shipping, DamiTim is the most fun for me. you expect DickTim or DickJay or JayTim, even DamiDick. but there's something that's so enjoyable about Damian having his feelings forcibly outted. not just to Tim, but to everyone. the way it'd be an active landmine none of them knowing what to say but all feeling each other's reactions. i honestly think Damian would try to punch somebody about it. (also, if you do a history of TImSteph where they've had sex, Damian would be directly linked to Steph's memories of how Tim was in bed, so that's fun as both something horrifying and enlightening just to screw with his feelings some more.) would they end up together? in my head probably, but it'd be weird and likely toxic bc how do you date someone you know inside out and know exactly what they think of all your flaws and what parts of you they obsess over. the answer is not very well but hey, the sex is good-

i think Jason *directly* feeling how everyone felt about his death would really rock him. he's heard all the apologies, but part of him isn't convinced there's truth to them. so to be crushed by Dick's *grief* over his death would be a come to jesus moment for him. but on the less fun flipside, you have him feeling how Dick feels about him *now*. because Dick doesn't really *like* Jason and deep down, sees Jason as a lost cause. that's his "deep dark secret". and Jason would feel and know that from the one person who he still wants to believe in him. i really do think Jason would have the Worst Time with all this, overwhelmed with everyone's intimate and complex feelings over his death. Jason is a very defensive person when it comes to his death and how reactionary he gets when other people make it about them, not him. so for Jason to have to constantly deal with that in his head, i truly do think he'd lash out a bit. the arguments. yelling at Dick and feeling Dick's guilt and snapping bc Dick has no right to feel guilty now. feeling that Tim viewed Jason as a failure. it's just a damaging mindspace to be in and man do i think Jason would take a While to recover.

oddly though, i think it'd be a good bonding moment for Steph and Jason. we really don't get much exploration of Steph and Jason bonding over dying. bc sure, Steph didn't actually die, but she *did* experience the social death where everyone believed she was dead and mourned her as such for a good while. she also felt *directly* responsible for her own death. a lot of blame falls on Steph for War Games (for the Doylist reasons of sexism but yk) and Jason feels responsible for his own death for walking into a trap. but unlike Jason, Steph had no suit in a case, no memorials, her name held no infamy. so i think she deserves just a bit of righteous fury about how dramatic Jason can be while she just has to move on bc hey, it's not like she *really* died. and she buries those feelings well, but not well enough to hide them from a mental link. and Jason, who hasn't really considered Steph before because he was so wrapped up in his complex over Tim, confronts those feelings with her. if anyone is going to know how he feels, it's going to be her. you could do it platonic or romantic, but i do think when Jason sinks to his lowest, she's the one who snaps him out of it, both with tough love and genuine compassion for his situation.

for the less serious crack of it all: they're all going to have far too intimate knowledge of each other's sex lives. everyone's gonna know Dick has fucked Slade. everyone's gonna know Jason has fucked Talia. in my heart, i believe Tim has slept with Anarky (Lonnie, not Ulysses) and everyone would *know* that too. absolute judgment all around. it's the spider-man meme of "wait you've done WHAT with WHO" and honestly, it gives a nice distraction for the more serious feelings. it's a palette cleanser they can default to. like when the fighting gets a little too serious and they're cutting too deep for comfort, someone's going to blurt out "well at least i didn't fuck Deathstroke." and the whole moment goes awry with laughter. bc i do think, at the end of it once they get through the worst of the angst, they'd be closer for it and self-aware of the ridiculous nature of all this. it's enlightening, in a way to see how they all felt about their time as Robin and the baggage/trauma they hold. even the ugliest feelings they hold for each other don't completely suffocate the fondness/respect.

that said, knowing the baggage/trauma. oof. i don't think Dick has ever fully opened up about his history with Mirage/Tarantula/Liu and now it's forced to sit in the open. Damian has never admitted the worst of being raised in the League. Tim hasn't fully faced the suffocating image of his dead father and his deep-seated want to kill Boomerang. all those ugly truths they stamp down bc well, either you're a vigilante or you're a well adjusted person, are out in the open now. and it's ugly and gruesome to force those thoughts to be shared. they all want to comfort each other for different reasons, while simultaneously not wanting their own trauma to be acknowledged. it'd be fun to see who'd instinctively react to whose trauma first. because it's an overwhelming rush of information, and you just naturally get pulled in certain directions. i think Damian would react to Dick's history of sexual abuse first, whereas Jason would be reacting to the murderous rage TIm is trying to fight off. Tim is reacting to just how much guilt Steph carries about War Games and all of it is very crunchy. there's so much they'd all have to talk about and it'd take days for them to address it all, between the arguments about the ugly parts. would they come out stronger for it? yes. but only if they didn't kill each other in the process. i hesitate to do a "and they come out one big happy family" ending, bc it's not very in canon, but i do think the bond of the Robin mantle is something special. even when the link is broken, they hold onto a freakish understanding of each other. they react and move in sync, can fight together without needing words. are they emotionally on the same page/have they forgiven each other for the worst of it? absolutely not. but they've got each other backs. it's a very much "if you called i'd drop everything to save you. but also we don't have it in us to hang out casually." bond, which i think is deeply underrated in fanfiction. sometimes, you can care about people but you have to do it from a distance.