#and the idea struck from there

[riff-is-on-a-fucking-crisis]

kokotiam gang but as jollitown gang

[nouverx]

I feel the room swayin'

While the band's playin'

One of our old favourite songs from way back when 🎵

[thebaldursmouthgazette]

I’m sure Dumat being defeated the same year andraste was born means nothing

I’m sure this has nothing to do with the fact that andrastes mother was part of a tribe who helped the grey wardens fight and defeat dumat the same year she was born, meaning that she could have been a fetus affected by the taint in the proximity of a dying arch demon

And the fact that nobody knows which grey warden killed dumat, as seven wardens died from injuries from his death throes, and therefore we cannot actually identify a warden who absorbed his soul, means nothing

And I’m sure it is a complete coincidence that andraste had dreams and visions of the being later referred to as the maker her whole life, and behaved strangely, talking about hearing lost voices and seeing strange auras. That absolutely doesn’t sound like anyone else we know

[anne-is-confused]

Captain Francis Crozier, at Furthest North.

[gomzdrawfr]

content warning: angst, major character death (MCD), blood(in grey)

say my name

[ultipoter]

A pokemon masters screenshot redraw that got Way Out Of Hand. (and I insist on posting this as a redraw, I feel the original context is Important)

Also, I finally remembered to record my process of drawing this (and then some :^D)

[violetsteve]

If you prefer, this is also posted on AO3

After the almost end of the world, Steve decides he’s going to put the moves on Eddie Munson.

Robin may or may not laugh in his face when he announces it.

The thing is, despite Robin almost laughing him out of the building, the thing is Steve is still figuring out his sexuality. He knows he likes girls, he’s always liked girls, but then Robin pointed out that maybe he couldn’t figure out what he wanted because he wasn’t looking in the right place and Steve realized she was right . Sure, Robin had meant more of a ‘ stop going after girls who are traditionally pretty and from well off families and try going out with girls whose company you actually enjoy’ and not a ‘ hey, dudes are kinda hot, too, right? It was real weird how transfixed you seemed to be on Eddie Munsons lips while we were actively fighting demon monsters,’ but Steve has always been good at reading in between the lines. Or, more like inserting what he wants in the gaps of what people leave unsaid.

So, no, Robin did not tell Steve to open his eyes and realize that straight guys don’t exactly think about how another guys lips will look slick with spit, how they’ll feel under the pressure of his thumb, what the sweet satisfaction of them partying so readily under his will feel like, but she did tell him to broaden his horizons and honestly, they were basically the same thing.

Which is why Steve feels like she should be more supportive of his plans to woo Eddie Munson onto his couch—and maybe, if he’s feeling ambitious, eventually into his bed.

“Robin, come on . I’m serious!” Steve will never admit, even under Russian torture again, that he whines it. He’s coming to Robin as a sounding board, not so she can make fun of him. If he wants someone to make fun of his lack of prowess, he would go talk to Dustin. 

Or, yeah on second thought no. He’s not actually sure his ego could take that much of a hit at the moment.

“Sorry, sorry,” she gasps, gripping the—newly rebuilt and polished—family video counter in front of her. “I just—Steve, that’s-that’s so ambitious . You literally just came out to me less than a week ago and you’re already talking about getting with a boy. And Eddie Munson at that.”

Steve scowls at her, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that he knows looks bitchy, but he can’t help it because—

“Don’t say his name like that. He literally almost died to save us all. He’s not fucking dirty .”

Robin immediately sobers, a guilty, but irritated look on her face. “That’s not how I meant it, Steve, and you know it. Don’t get bitchy at me just because you’re feeling sensitive about your feelings for a boy.”

And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? Steve isn’t really angry at her for laughing—Robin makes fun of him at least 7 times a day, Steve would be more concerned if she didn’t make at least one joke about this—and he isn’t even mad at her for putting a weird emphasis on Eddie’s name. No, he’s all twisted up about his feelings and he’s never been good at expressing them, let alone talking about them. He’s feeling self conscious and his skin is prickling with embarrassment and the easiest thing to do is lash out about it.

“That’s not—“ Steve cuts himself off, looking away from Robin as his shoulders slump. “You’re right,” he mumbles. “Sorry. I just. I wanna fucking kiss him so bad , Rob, and that freaks me out a little.” Steve untucks one of his arms to scrub a hand over his face, leaving the other one tucked around his waist to protect his vulnerable bits.

“Hey,” Robin murmurs, closing the distance between them so she can settle her hands on his shoulders. “I get it. Do you think I acted like a sane person the first time I realized I wanna kiss girls? I think I cried for a week. Kerry the stuffed Koala had to go to therapy because of all of my crying. It was a serious time in the Buckley house.”

Steve smiles behind his hand. He loves her so much. She’s really his best friend. He’s so thankful for her.

“You still cry about kissing girls,” Steve says, rather than admitting any of that. She already knows she’s smart, Steve doesn’t need to add any more to her ego. It just gives her more brain to bully him with.

He drops the hand covering his face to look at her. “Only now it’s more of a,” Steve puts on a high pitched, whiny voice, “‘why do I have to go to work when I could be spending all day making out with my girlfriend.’” He brings both of his hands up to clasp in front of his chest, batting his eyelashes at her in a fake-coy way.

Robin shoves at him, catches him off guard and he goes stumbling backwards into the counter, laughing the whole way. 

“Shut up , you absolute dickhead, ” she all but screeches, reaching out to give his chest another shove for good measure. “You literally have no room to talk considering you started this shift by announcing your intentions to, quite literally, crawl into Eddie’s lap and kiss him stupid . That’s almost verbatim what you said, Steve.”

Steve’s still chuckling as he rights his position a little, leaning back against the counter more comfortably. “Yeah, I did say that.” He sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth before he continues with, “I really, really wanna sit on his lap and kiss him until he can’t focus, Rob.”

Robin rolls her eyes, but it’s more fond than annoyed. Steve can tell—he’s been on the receiving end of about 90 percent of Robin’s eye rolls, he’s getting good at distinguishing the emotions behind each one.

“I still can’t believe you have a crush on Eddie Munson of all people. He’s so weird ,” She laughs, but Steve can tell that that, too, is fond. Robin and Eddie have a weird friendship. They geek out over obscure instruments and the nuance of tacky movies together. Steve doesn’t get it, but he enjoys watching how expressive both of them can be. He once watched Eddie climb onto a table while arguing with Robin about one of their movies. Robin followed him up shortly after, though, so Steve isn’t sure why she thinks the weird is limited to Eddie.

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, and he’s man enough to admit that it sounds dreamy . God, he’s pathetic over Eddie. It scares the shit out of him. “You know, the other day he gave me a rock. It wasn’t even, like, a cool rock. It was literally just a rock. When I asked him why he just shrugged and was like ‘I dunno, it made me think of you.’”

Robin’s grin grows. “Oh my God. What did you do with the rock?”

Steve shoots her a disgruntled look. “What do you think I did with the rock? I put in my pocket and then brought it home and set it on my nightstand. Eddie gave it to me, I wasn’t just going to throw it on the ground again. That’s rude.”

Robin absolutely cackles at this, there’s no other way to describe it. She’s awash in glee as she claps her hands together a few times. “ Jesus , Steve. You’ve got it so bad for this man.”

“God,” Steve mutters, running a hand over his face again. “That’s not even the worst part, Rob. He like. He grabs his utensils with his whole fist when he eats. It’s so weird, and it’s so messy . It makes fuck all sense. He doesn't even grab a pencil that way. Just his fucking eating utensils . 

“And he walks so chaotic. He just randomly breaks into a sprint. Just starts fucking running out of nowhere. And he bounces. As if the random running wasn’t enough, he just fucking starts jumping. Sometimes he jumps at me, and it’s all I can do to actually catch him before he eats dirt. Or- or he’ll just. Spin. Just twirl in the middle of the sidewalk while still carrying on a conversation.” Steve slumps, his back getting slightly scraped against the counter as he sinks to his butt.

“The man has zero regard for personal space and he always makes way too intense of eye contact. Sometimes he’ll use one of his character voices in the middle of an otherwise totally normal conversation, and he’s always climbing on things. He’s loud and he’s weird and I wanna wrap my fingers around the collar of his shirt, shove him against a wall and then shove my tongue down his throat , jesus christ. ” Steve buries his face in his knees, his mind playing an endless loop of Eddie smiling with those stupid lips that are always cherry red and raw from his constant gnawing. Steve wants to bite them for him.

“Oh, my God, Steve.” Robing sinks down to sit across from him. “This is pathetic . I, like, knew you had a crush on Eddie but this is like. Dangerous territory. Like, the next step might be the L word level territory.”

Steve makes a small squeaking noise, his face still buried in his knees. Robin’s words hint at something that Steve is so not ready to admit to himself yet. She’s hitting way too close to something Steve has been avoiding actively and vehemently since he realized the attraction he feels for boys is decidedly not of the straight variety.

For a moment, neither of them say anything. Then, like the angel she so clearly is, Robin says, “So, wanna tell me about operation ‘crawl into Eddie’s lap and makeout with him?’”

Steve laughs, the tightness in his chest slowly easing. He lifts his head, and then spills his guts.

***

The plan starts simply. First, he needs to get Eddie alone . No annoying tagalongs to potentially interrupt.

It’s easier said than done. For two days straight, Steve asks Eddie to hang out and, somehow, one of the kids manages to weasel into their plans.

It’s driving Steve nuts.  

He casually asks Eddie to watch a movie, give him a proper education like him and Robin are always going on about, and Dustin overhears and invites himself.

He asks Eddie to go for a walk, makes an excuse about it being gorgeous outside while he plots ways for the walk to end right outside his house, isn’t that neat, but Lucas and Max overhear and suddenly it’s a group affair.

He asks Eddie to get milkshakes, plans to lure him back to his house with the promise of complete control of Steve’s record player, but El overhears and asks if she can tag along and Steve just can’t look into her big, earnest eyes and tell her no. He’s not a monster.

So they get milkshakes with El, and it’s fun . Of course it’s fun, but Steve is getting desperate . It’s been a little over a week since he hatched his mad plan with Robin and he’s about to start climbing the walls with anticipation.

It doesn’t help that Eddie has a mother fucking oral fixation. At every opportunity he’s either putting stuff in his mouth or chewing on something. It’s fucking rude, is what it is. It’s like he doesn’t even realize Steve is suffering.

It all finally comes to a head a full week and four days after his conversation with Robin on the floor of Family Video. He’s stopping by Eddie’s house to grab something Dustin left behind because Dustin asked and he’s nice . It’s maybe also because it’s a great excuse to see Eddie, but Dustin sure as shit doesn’t need to know that that’s the sole reason Steve said he will.

Eddie is slightly bent over, riffling through his Dungeons and Dorks stuff, and Steve is trying so hard to pretend like he’s not entirely focusing on his ass and the line of exposed skin above his belt. If Eddie turns around right now, he’s busted for sure.

Eddie’s just mentioned some kind of dragon when he lets out a triumphant noise, his story coming to an abrupt halt as he spins on his heel to face Steve.

“Aha!” He exclaims, thrusting a notebook in Steve's direction. 

Steve automatically reaches out to take it, his fingers brushing over the backs of Eddie’s in the switch over. Eddie bites his bottom lip at the contact, avoiding Steve’s gaze, and suddenly all Steve is thinking about is his mouth.

Steve debates with himself for a moment. This isn’t really how he planned to seduce his way into Eddie Munson’s lap, but he’s adaptable. If the years of almost apocalypses have taught Steve anything, it’s that sometimes you have to make do with what you have.

And what Steve has is an empty trailer save the two of them, and a couch less than ten feet away. He’s got the object of his affections standing in front of him, and Steve decides to adapt.

He wets his own lips, stepping towards Eddie. His hand is still holding Eddie’s hostage over the notebook.

“Thanks, Eddie,” Steve murmurs, ducking his head so he can look up through his lashes.

Steve watches Eddie’s breath catch, watches him stutter over his next sentence.

“Y-yeah,” he breathes out, his eyes flicking between Steve’s eyes and his mouth at a rapid speed. “Of c-course. I mean, it happens. Kids forget things. I’m sure Dustin just wanted to, like, go over the last session's notes for anything he missed.”

“Of course,” Steve agrees, taking another step into Eddie’s space. He’s aware that he’s primarily staring at Eddie’s lips, which is probably rude, but he can’t help it. They’re wet and shiny and Steve has been thinking about them an obsessive amount for the last week and a half.

“We’re, um, I-I mean they’re going against a red dragon,” Eddie continues. Steve’s aware of this. It’s what Eddie had been telling him when he’d found the notebook. “They’re very powerful, almost impossible to defeat.”

“Are they?” Steve’s only half following the conversation, but that’s not saying much. He has a hard time keeping up with the DnD talk on a regular day.

“Oh yeah,” Eddie says, and then he’s off. He starts spitting words so fast Steve wouldn’t be able to keep up even if he were paying complete attention.

“Eddie,” Steve says, but Eddie is still talking, still mumbling along about the red dragon.

“Eddie,” Steve tries again, but it’s like he’s shouting in an empty room. He knows Eddie knows he’s talking to him, can tell by how wide Eddie’s eyes are, how he’s not even trying to not slur his rapidfire words together. If Eddie was talking about dragons for the hell of it, he’d be gesticulating and probably climbing on things. As it were, he’s got his gaze fixed on Steve, eyes comically wide as his words rush together—barely getting one out before the next slew rush into it in a truly amusing word traffic jam.

Eddie’s nervous , and fuck if that doesn’t thrill Steve to his core. Steve takes the final step towards him to completely close the distance and—

Eddie takes a step back, his words stuttering along with Steve’s heart in his chest. He wasn’t expecting that, wasn’t expecting Eddie to back away from him so quickly. Steve has half a second to be hurt, to mentally kick himself because get a fucking clue , Harrington, before he catches Eddie’s eyes darting down to his lips, his tongue unconsciously swiping along his lower lip before his gaze skitters back up to Steve’s.

And, oh, yeah , Steve has him exactly where he wants him. Eddie isn’t stepping back because he doesn’t want Steve. No, he’s stepping back because he’s prey . Steve is stalking towards him with a single minded focus and Eddie is skittering backwards like a scared rabbit—bouncing back step by step as Steve approaches until his back collides with the wall. That, finally, seems to knock all their air out of Eddie. The dragon conversation dies on his lips as Steve finally—fucking finally —closes the remaining distance between them. He reaches out, cupping Eddie's cheek in one hand, his jaw in the other, all while pressing up against Eddie from hip to chest.

“ Eddie, ” Steve murmurs, his eyes hooding. This time, Steve feels Eddie’s breath catch, feels the way a tremor works its way through Eddie’s body. He’s staring up at Steve with wide, wild eyes. He looks like a deer caught in a trap—ready to break his leg trying to get away if he needs to.

Steve isn’t sure why that makes him feel a little wild, but it does.

He stretches his thumb out to swipe across Eddie's bottom lip—already bitten and red from Eddie’s nervous chewing. God , it drives Steve crazy . He has a half-hysterical thought about offering his own up for Eddie to chew on when he’s nervous. Eddie makes him crazy .

Steve licks at his own lips as he watches the way his thumb catches and drags and the swollen skin of Eddie’s bottom lip. Eddie’s trembling in earnest now, and Steve feels his pulse thundering in his ears. He wants to kiss Eddie so bad his fucking toes are curling with the anticipation.

He flicks his gaze up, away from Eddie’s lips up to his eyes and he has to fight back a groan. Eddie looks fucking wrecked and Steve hasn’t even kissed him yet. His eyes are wide and wild, his pupils blown and there’s a scarlet flush in his cheeks. He’s fucking panting against Steve’s face and he can’t take it any more. He really, really can’t. He has to kiss him—screw anticipation, screw driving Eddie past the brink. He needs and he needs now.

“ Eddie, ” Steve practically gasps . “Eddie, please.” Steve squeezes his eyes shut as his body unconsciously rocks forward, seeking even more of Eddie out. “Wanna kiss you so bad, please say I can, please—”

And before Steve can get another plea out, Eddie’s slamming his head forward with enough force to knock their teeth together in an uncomfortable clack ; enough force that their noses knock together in a painful way.

But Steve doesn't care . He doesn’t care because Eddie’s lips are on his and he feels like there’s liquid fire coursing through his veins. He feels lit up from the inside out as Eddie finally, finally touches him back. He fists a hand in the back of Steve’s shirt, the other winding through Steve’s hair and fuck it’s finally happening. After night upon night of imagining what kissing Eddie Munson would be like, Steve’s finally doing it.

And goddamn is he doing it. Eddie’s lips are slick against his, hot and encouraging . They slide together in a way that has Steve’s mind going blissfully blank, his only thoughts being hotwetyesmore.  

He kisses him messy, lips moving together in a too fast pace that neither of them can keep track of; bruising force in the way their lips slide, spit sliping from their parted lips in a slow trickle that has Steve’s fingers curling against Eddie’s jaw.

He uses that hand to tilt Eddie’s head up slightly, angling it enough that Steve can get his bottom lip between his own and suck slightly. The first slid of Eddie’s lip between Steve’s own has him seeing fucking stars . 

A punched out groan breaks free from Eddie’s throat and he rocks forward into Steve, seeking more . The hand in the middle of his back pulls and Steve is helpless to do anything but push Eddie more firmly into the wall. He knows it has to hurt, has to be restricting Eddie’s breathing with how tightly they’re pressed together, but he can’t take enough focus away from Eddie’s mouth to care . Plus, if Eddie minds that much he wouldn’t be pulling Steve closer .

Eddie breathes a wet gasp into Steve’s mouth when he takes his teeth to the lip still tucked between his own, and Steve can’t help but let out a gasp of his own. Eddie tastes fucking phenomenal. He can taste the lingering tobacco on his tongue, the salty tang of the popcorn he must have had earlier, and just the overwhelming taste of Eddie. Hot, sweet, fucking sublime. Steve‘s never been a particularly religious man, but he feels like he’s drinking heaven straight from Eddie’s mouth. With every gasp, every moan, every brush of Eddie’s tongue, he feels one step closer to absolution. It’s addicting .

God , he wants more. He wants Eddie’s hands all over him, on bare skin. He wants those deft musicians fingers to snake into his hair, tug a bit. He wants Eddie over him and under him and—

He stills suddenly, a thought occurring to him. The line that had triggered this whole thing—his announcement to Robin back in Family Video—and suddenly there’s a burning need in Steve’s gut. God, he needs to sit in Eddie’s lap right now. Needs to feel his strong thighs under him, needs Eddie’s hands on his ass and his tongue in his mouth.

“ Fuck, ” Steve bites out when he pulls back. Tearing his mouth away from Eddie’s is so much harder than it has any right to be.

Eddie’s staring at Steve with glassy eyes, his lips shiny and red and oh fuck even his chin is glistening with their spit. Steve wants to devour him.

“Go sit on the couch,” Steve says, and is pleasantly surprised that his voice only sounds a little rough, a little shaky.

“What?” Eddie croaks out, staring at Steve for a beat. Then, miracle of miracles, he does it. He stares at Steve the whole time, the glassy look getting a little clearer, and Steve thinks that simply will not do.

The minute Eddie is seated, Steve’s crawling his way into his lap. He wedges his knees into the crease at the back of the couch, shuffling as far forward as he can so their chests are pressing together, their clothed crotches aligning. Then, without giving Eddie a chance to adjust, he drops down, pressing the full weight of his ass into Eddie’s thighs and, by proximity, his dick.

“ Jesus Christ ,” Eddie swears, his hands shooting out to grab at Steve’s ass on instinct. Steve almost giggles . It’s exactly what he wants.

“You can just call me Steve,” he mutters, and before Eddie can reply, he’s sweeping in and claiming Eddie’s lips again. Eddie huffs against his mouth, but let’s Steve have the last word. Steve’s glad because he has plans .

Plans that start with Steve winding those thick curls around his fingers as he slides his lips against Eddie’s. Eddie pushes his head back into Steve’s hands like a cat, and it makes Steve smile into their kiss, which makes Eddie smile into the kiss. It’s like a domino effect—once Steve feels Eddie’s smile against his, he starts giggling like a schoolgirl. He can’t help it, this feels unreal in the best possible way.

Then Eddie’s off, giggling back into Steve’s mouth. They’re both just sitting there giggling at each other, eyes squinted and happy . God, Steve feels euphoric in this moment, perched in Eddie’s lap like it’s his throne, with Eddie’s hands on his ass.

Eddie pulls back after a moment, when their smiles are too wide to actually kiss. He brings a hand up to gently brush a strand of hair away from Steve’s eyes, tucking the long lock behind his ear before putting his hand back on Steve’s ass. 

“You’re unbelievable, Steve Harrington,” Eddie whispers, eyes so full of affection that Steve feels his insides turn to mush. He squirms in Eddie’s laps, ducking his head to mouth at Eddie’s neck because if he stares into his eyes any longer he’s going to do something stupid . Stupid like admit that he’s pretty fucking sure he’s in love with Eddie, has been since he gave him that dumb rock for no decernable reason other than he wanted to, because he was thinking of Steve.

Steve tongues at the tendon in Eddie’s neck that’s stretched taunt, rubs his nose along his jaw and up to the hollow under his ear. Eddie laughs, tilting his head sideways to give Steve easier access.

“Oh, now you’re gonna be shy? After you practically pounced on me earli—”

Eddie’s words cut off in a choked groan as Steve bites, hard , at the tendon he was just showing attention to.

“ Steve, ” Eddie gasps, but Steve doesn’t let him do any other talking. No, he’s not going to let Eddie derail him again. So, he dives back for Eddie’s mouth, licking into it, not slowing down and not giving Eddie a chance to catch up. He smooths his tongue alongside Eddie’s, lets Eddie push back against it with his own for a millisecond, before he’s switching tactics—licking behind the top row of Eddie’s teeth, sliding his tongue over Eddie’s bottom lip. 

Eddie squeezes his ass at the sudden onslaught, and Steve can’t help the small jerk his body gives at that. He grinds down, a gasp trapped in the humid air between them as sharp waves of pleasure shoot up his spine. He’s trapped in between Eddie’s lips and his hands and he feels like he’s high with it.

He’s enjoying himself so much.

He slides his tongue along Eddie’s again, enjoys the way it's slightly rough and gloriously slick against his own. Enjoys the way it makes his pulse thrum a little faster, his fingers grip a little tighter where they’re fisted in Eddie’s hair—the way it makes Eddie squeeze a little tighter, which makes Steve grind down a little harder.

Steve feels the evidence of Eddie’s interest, has been feeling it, and knows Eddie has to be aware of Steve’s own. And Steve’s fantasized about Eddie’s lips for so long that he’s tried to keep it to just that—tried to focus on the heady drag of lips on lips—but it’s hard to ignore the way Steve’s own hips are twisting down, seeking as much of Eddie as possible. Hard to ignore the way Eddie has his own feet planted on the floor, meeting Steve’s hips with firm thrusts of his own.

They’re sharing humid air and sharp gasps, their lips swollen and honestly sore . Steve’s lips ache in the best way he’s ever felt, and Steve doesn’t want to stop. Wants to sit right here on Eddie’s strong thighs, wants to feel Eddie’s teeth nipping at the too sensitive skin of his mouth, wants to kiss Eddie for the rest of his life .

They kiss and kiss and kiss, and Steve has never just kissed someone like this. He’s never kissed just to feel, kissed just for the pleasure of it with no expectations for what’s to follow. He feels intoxicated. He’s utterly, wholly blissed out on Eddie Munson’s mouth and he never wants it to end.

They kiss for so long that Steve has honestly started to lose feeling in his lips. It’s weird feeling them so sore, so numb. But they are, so he slowly, so slowly pulls back. Leaning down for a few lingering pecks as he puts a little distance between their mouths.

Eddie’s mouth is bright red, spit slick and so tempting. Steve watches with fascination as a single string of spit connects their lips, stretching until he’s put enough distance between them that it breaks.

Steve bites his lip on a moan, thinks that’s one of the hottest things he’s ever seen.

He meets Eddie’s gaze. His eyes are wild, pupils blown out. His hair is an absolute disaster from the way Steve’s been running his fingers through it, and his cheeks are flushed so prettily. Steve can’t resist sneaking one more kiss in, lingering around afterwards to rub their noses together.

“Hi,” Steve finally murmurs and fuck, is that his voice? Jesus, he sounds wrecked.

“Hi,” Eddie says back, his smile verging on loopy. “Did you know that some corvids can understand physics?”

Steve stares at him for a beat, a little stunned and a lot confused by the abrupt topic switch. Eddie stares back, a look on his face that Steve can only take for regret, his already pink face is turning positively crimson. 

It’s dead quiet for a moment, then Steve bursts into laughter. His chest absolutely swells with affection, with, fuck it, love. God damn , he can’t deny it any longer. The love he feels for this boy sitting under him is overwhelming at the best of times, and it feels like it’s just bursting out of him at this moment. He’s coming apart at the seams with his feelings for Eddie, and he’s done trying to pretend that they’re anything but that.

“Oh my God, ” Eddie mutters, bringing his hands up to hide his face. It’s so endearing. Steve is endeared. “Sorry, fuck. I don’t know why I just said that.”

“Jesus Christ, dude.” Steve’s still grinning down at Eddie, moving his hands to clasp around Eddie’s wrists, trying to pry his hands away. He never wants to not be looking at Eddie. He’s so fucking weird and Steve likes him so much. “I like you so fucking much .”

Eddie lets Steve pull his hands away, and he…there’s no other word for it, Eddie just absolutely lights up. It’s like Steve’s staring directly at the sun. Eddie is beaming up at him, his smile so wide that his eyes are basically closed. He has laugh lines, and Steve is already obsessed with them, already thinking of ways to make Eddie smile this wide, this radiant all the time.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks.

“Oh, yeah,” Steve confirms. “Just ask Robin. I’ve been whining about it for weeks .”

Eddie laughs again, his grin not dimming in the slightest, and Steve just has to taste it—has to get his mouth around Eddie’s happiness. So, he swoops back in, feels Eddie’s laughter transfer to him via their connected mouths, feels a piece of himself that’s long been looking for a home finally slot into place.

[qkmlh]

Still ducking hilarious to me that Zoro & Sanji began their beef because they thought the other was misogynistic and it came to a head of no return when Zoro felt his title of ‘Luffy’s specialest boi’ threatened by Sanji’s comment

[moralcandy]

all this dirkjake cannibalism. ever consider vrisrezi cannibalism

[kg-clark-inthedark]

I've been bewitched body and soul by @uncontrol-freak's corvosider au in which Corvo is a grizzled sea captain, so I made a short fan comic for ch 2. If you want to know where the seas will take them, check out their fic, Abyssal!

Higher quality version linked here because tumblr always chews up my comics

[7-ate-9]

It’s funny to me that people think Nick Nelson is the type to refuse to admit he’s sick. On a darker note, he’s seen in what happened with Charlie just how dangerous that could be, but on a lighter note, you know Sarah Nelson coddled her children when they were sick. Nick is totally comfortable with someone taking care of him. In the show, he admits at the bonfire that hes feeling unwell and they go home and Charlie makes him his tea. I feel it in my bones, Nick Nelson turns into a whiny baby when he’s got the sniffles and you can’t change my mind.

[deoidesign]

I'm caught now, what's the comic about? I'm guessing demons from your tags but I want to know more (without spoiling anything)

I'm so glad you asked.

I wanna say so much but I don't want to spoil anything... I'll do my best.

It's about demons, yes... But also mermaids, curses, murder, and love... The sweetest mermaid in the world gets magically stuck with an asshole demon warlord.

Thrust into a world of crime, murder, lies, and secrets, Luciel is completely out of their depth... And cursed to live in the ocean for the rest of his life, Zagan is a fish out of water.

Zagan is trying to solve the mystery of his own murder, while also navigating trying to cure his new curse AND gathering souls so he doesn't get sent back to hell. While Luciel is happy to tag along, Zagan is new to cooperation and is forced to adapt... And Luciel soon discovers there might have been a BIT more danger than they signed up for.

It follows the two of them as they solve a mystery, uncover new secrets, and navigate the dangers of the world while also discovering its many wonders!

And also maybe falling in love...

This is sort of the vibe... I haven't finished any episodes yet. These aren't canon scenes. I keep drawing just a couple panels or small strips of scenes that MIGHT happen cause I'm so excited it's not even funny I want to make it so bad

I can't stop drawing them it's a problem. I have work I have to do...

[pennylime]

🩸 Vampire Sigma 🩸

Click for quality!!

Not even a reference to the vampires IN the series, I just wanted the victorian vampire aesthetic lmao. I finished it and went "wait, isn't there vampires already in bsd?" I FORGOR 💀 but enjoy anyways 😁

Only time I'll ever draw sigma with red eyes.

[disanthropi-art]

If you haven't read Buried Under Memories by @aimportantdragoncollector, you're missing out ꜀( ˊ̠˂˃ˋ̠ )꜆

[happy-hermit]

OKay um. I kind of wrote this on accident and it is literally nothing that i had planned on writing but. Hope you enjoy it anyway KASJD scar hurt/comfort the beloved <3

( @stiffyck i hope you don't mind the tag just every time i write scar angst i think of you)

Summary: Grian sees Scar's vex wings for the first time.

“Cub said you have wings,” Grian says, apropos of nothing, and Scar almost drops the blocks he’s holding. 

His mouth is suddenly extremely dry, and he has to clear his throat before responding, forcing himself to continue placing leaves along the ground. “Cub is— Cub is a crazy man. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

Grian is sitting on a chest a few feet away, and he shrugs. “I dunno. He seemed pretty sure.” He’s trying to appear casual about it, but Scar can hear the burning curiosity lurking behind his words. Nerves start to writhe in his stomach. 

Cub wouldn’t have said anything on purpose, is the thing. Scar can’t even be mad at him. It had probably just slipped out. Cub wears his own wings a lot more casually than Scar does. Which is to say that Scar doesn’t. Ever. 

It takes Grian talking again to make him realize that he’s frozen in place, no longer building. 

“Look, if it’s— You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” Grian says, and when Scar looks at him there’s a hint of worry in the lines of his face, a hint of awkwardness. “You can tell me to buzz off and I’ll drop it.”

“Like it’s hot?” Scar says, just to see the way Grian’s nose wrinkles in irritation. 

Scar laughs softly, and a bittersweet resignation keeps his mouth turned upwards at the corners, afterwards. He puts his leaves back into his inventory and sits down on the shulker in front of Grian with a little sigh. Scar wrings his hands together and avoids eye contact, instead watching a rabbit dig in a nearby field. 

“Cub… might be onto something,” Scar says eventually. “This time.”

“It’s true?” Grian sits up straight with wide eyes, his own wings fluffing out behind him. “But— I’ve never seen them before.”

“I do have some subtlety, I’ll have you know,” Scar says, scoffing playfully. Grian raises an eyebrow. “I do!”

“How do you hide them then?” 

Scar huffs quietly, glancing at Grian and then away again. He doesn’t mean any harm, Scar knows. His eyes hold nothing but curious concern. Maybe it’s time Scar stopped hiding, anyway. 

“It’s okay if you—“

“No, it’s fine,” Scar interrupts, and sends him a little grin. “I guess I could tell you. Now that I’ve proved I can keep secrets.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Grian waves a dismissive hand in the air, but he’s smiling. “I’m very proud.”

“Why thank you,” Scar says, and then he bites the inside of his cheek for a second before continuing. “I use magic to hide them. You know, illusion magic.”

Grian’s eyebrows furrow, and he tilts his head. “That doesn’t… I don’t know, it doesn’t wear you out?”

“Not much.” Scar shrugs. “It’s just habit at this point.”

Grian’s mouth twitches just slightly downward, eyebrows still drawn together, and when he speaks next it’s just a little bit softer. “Why?”

A familiar melancholy tugs harshly at his heart, and Scar lets his eyes drift over Grian’s shoulders to where his wings are shifting behind him, pristine and colorful. “They don’t look like yours,” he says. 

“Well, yeah. You’re vex,” Grian says, and he puts his hand on Scar’s knee. “You know— you know no one here cares about that, right? No one thinks of you or Cub differently.”

Scar laughs softly and avoids Grian’s gaze. “Of course. I don’t— I don’t hide them because of you guys. Promise.”

“Can I see?” Grian asks, carefully, and by the tone of his voice Scar can tell he’s realized how serious it is. How fragile it’s making him feel. Scar twists his hands into the fabric of his pants, swallows, and nods.

“Are you sure?” Grian asks, soft and quiet. He ducks down to look Scar in the eye, nothing but gentle acceptance and slight worry on his face. It makes tears prick at his eyes, and he blinks rapidly. 

“I’m sure,” Scar says, matching his tone. “It’s just— Well, they’re…”

“They’re what?” Grian prompts, and Scar lets out a short laugh that sounds more like a sob.

“They’re ugly,” Scar admits, and his voice breaks, and he feels silly, and he feels small, and he looks away from Grian and laughs at himself; sad and pitiful. “I’m vain, I know.”

“Oh, Scar,” Grian says, like his own heart is breaking.

Scar feels a light touch on his shoulder, and he looks over at Grian, at this person who has made him laugh on countless bad days, at his friend, and he finds it in himself to trust him. To let down his guard for the first time in— Well. For the first time. 

Scar closes his eyes, and he lets the magic slide through his fingers like sand in a sifter. He lets his wings go free. He lets just a bit of his hair turn white. He lets go. Grian inhales sharply, and Scar opens his eyes.

The avian is frozen in place, a hand still floating aimlessly near Scar’s shoulder, and his eyes are fixed firmly on something behind him, wide and horrified. Scar glances over his own shoulder to check on things, and finds pretty much what he’d expected. His wings are floating gently behind him, torn and scarred and ragged. Just barely glowing a soft grey-blue color. They aren’t pretty. Scar knows they aren’t pretty. His chest aches sharply at the sight, and he huffs and turns away. 

Only to meet Grian’s eyes, brimming with fury and fire. His large wings are flared out behind him defensively, talons gripping at the earth below and scraping grass out of the ground. Scar is confronted with the sudden and clear reminder that Grian is not entirely human, either. And he’s mad. Scar blinks in muted surprise.

“Who did this?” Grian asks, voice low and flat and almost deceptively calm. Scar just stares, and Grian looks at him sharply, seething. “Scar. Tell me who.”

At first, Scar thinks to lie. It is an instinct that is quick and fleeting. There is a matching scar on each of his wings, he knows, that are too uniform and precise to have been an accident. He tells the truth. The short version, anyway.

“We met in a woodland mansion. Cub and I, when we were little,” Scar says, heart beating painfully in his chest. “They had us in separate cells, and I would— At night, I would phase through the wall to see him. He didn’t have that kind of magic, but I did, and I was just, lonely, and—” He cuts himself off with a shaky breath, closing his eyes briefly to collect his thoughts.

“That magic comes from our wings,” Scar continues hoarsely, glancing back at his wings and shifting them carefully to get a better look. “When they found— found out what I was doing, they… I guess they kind of cut the source.”

He knows now, that they’d set him up to do it on purpose. He hadn’t been able to phase through any of the other walls, hadn’t been able to escape; he’d only been able to slip through to Cub. The Illagers had just wanted to test if they had the ability. So that they could nullify it as soon as possible. He’d been young, so young, and he’d fallen for it.

Scar cuts a glance at Grian and cracks the smallest of smiles through his watery eyes. “They’re long gone by now,” he says. “I don’t even remember what world we came from. You can’t find them.”

For just a moment, Grian looks like he’s going to try anyway, jaw set and face stony with cold anger, wings poised to take flight. Then he closes his eyes and take a long, slow breath. When he opens them again, he just looks sad.

“What about the rest?”

(A desolate world. The groans of the undead around every corner. Fighting for every moment of continued existence. Sharp pain shooting up his legs.  Clawed, rotting hands grabbing at his wings as he ran. Ripping, tearing—)

“That’s a story for another time, I’m afraid,” Scar says quietly. “Cub and I world-hopped without experience and got separated. My next world wasn’t… Well. It wasn’t great.”

Understatement of the century, but Grian doesn’t have to know that just yet. Though by the look on his face, maybe he already does.

“Do they hurt?” Grian asks eventually, gaze falling gently on his wings, something akin to grief in his eyes. Avians took wings very seriously, Scar knew.

“Sometimes.” Scar shrugs. “Mostly when it’s cold, for some reason.”

Grian starts reaching out, almost like he doesn’t know he’s doing it, and then he jerks his hand to a stop. It takes Scar a few seconds to realize he had flinched.

“Sorry,” Grian says, sounding embarrassed, and he retracts his hand back to his lap. Scar feels a spark of disappointment that surprises him.

“It’s okay,” he says, and then, as casual as he can manage, “You can touch them, if you want. They might feel funny, though.”

“You sure?” Grian tilts his head, and it’s so birdlike that Scar can’t help but crack a small smile. 

“Go for it.”

Grian reaches out again, slowly, watching him carefully, and Scar employs all conscious thought towards keeping his wings still. He can hear his heartbeat rushing in his ears. He’s holding his breath in anticipation. 

The touch is featherlight and soft, just barely grazing the top of his left wing, and it twitches on instinct before settling beneath the touch. It’s strange. It’s foreign. It is terrifying and comforting in equal measures. His chest is alight with a feeling he can’t quite place, and it’s crawling up his throat, choking his voice. 

Grian makes a small inquisitive sound, almost like a chirp, as he carefully runs his hand down to the edge of his wings, gently tracing a scar that he doesn’t know a zombie left. He brushes off a few bits of dirt and smoothes out the thinner parts that are wrinkling under the strain of being hidden for so long, and it’s almost as if Grian is trying to preen him, like he’s trying to find a way, and he’s being so gentle that it almost hurts. 

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Grian goes still and makes a wounded noise, coming back around to look him in the eyes.

“Sorry,” Scar chokes out, laughing a little and wiping fruitlessly at his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“No, Scar. Don’t be sorry.” Grian softly grabs his hands and pulls them away from his face, eyes focused and kind. “Do you want me to stop?”

Scar shakes his head almost frantically, overwhelmed. “No, please— I’m fine, don’t go, don’t go—”

Through his own tears, Scar can just barely make out Grian’s own eyes welling up, and then his hands are being yanked forward and he’s falling into a hug. Grian’s wings immediately rise to wrap around them protectively, brushing gently against his own, and Scar lets out a shaky breath, closing his eyes and burying his head into Grian’s shoulder. He’s tired.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Grian says, as firm as it is kind, as if it’s just a simple fact of the universe. As if it is ever that easy. Scar is wounded, and he’s a bit broken, and he’s heard that promise before. He believes it anyway. Grian says it, and he believes it. 

“Okay,” Scar says, muffled against the fabric of Grian’s sweater. “Okay.”

He knocks his wings gently into Grian’s, something warm settling in his chest. 

It almost feels like flying.