#for all the ones that arent mine

[ombrathefurry]

how do you generally design characters/choose color pallets?

whenever I try and create a good color pallet they always end up clashing and looking absolutely awful

i've tried using websites but they always end up being very bland, so i'm turning to the expert lol

the only character i've created that I actually. like. is the one that's just a black freaking tiger with rainbow glowing stripes, but that's because monochrome with color pops just always is flawless </3

Expert what expert

I'm by no means any expert, but I'm really happy you think my designs are appealing enough for you to ask me this!!

I ALWAYS try to come up with a character concept or idea for who they are before I start designing. Because of this, you see a lot of my designs turning out to be designed very strategically, with their features actually having proper functions and reasons to be there

This is why I have such a hard time with gifted designs. I don't know how to make them work without a background or concept I can really connect to properly.

For specific character designs, I usually think of and flesh out a basic idea in my head. Depending on how lucky I end up being, I can imagine every detail right off the bat. Other times, I have to put some work into it and experiment a little.

Here's an example of me working out a character design WIP right now

Development of Mr. V

Some characters just pop into my head exactly the way they are, like how Samuel did

Cogsworth too

Some of my characters come from dreams, too, and I just immediately sketch out my interpretation of the idea I'd had

Peter came from a dream about a white rabbit with a weird face killing a nuclear family's father leaving the mother and child alone with no idea what happened (it was disturbing, (there are more disturbing details,) which is why I made peter very unsettling)

Butch came from a dream that had something to do with fake peppino from pizza tower running around the It Steals maze area throwing cleavers at whoever he ran into

Dreams are a GREAT place to come up with character concepts

They give you a very solid ground before you start designing

One of my guidelines for creating characters is that they should be instantly recognizable as their own character. What are their special features? What defines them? What features would I keep if I were to draw them at the bare minimum detail? What parts of the design would make the character unrecognizable without them?

For example, Reena without her yellow.

Queen without her shadows.

You see this rule pop up a lot online, though mostly focusing on the idea of the silhouette of a character standing out from the others.

While I think it's a good option for when it comes to developing designs, I don't like worrying about it too much. I try to create the individual features of the character rather than immediately think about the silhouette.

All things considered, you're also totally allowed to break the rules to achieve something else. For example, Saleem and Minnow have identical silhouettes because I wanted them to give an uncannily similar vibe. Some characters who were derived off of others through dreams I might have had have very similar silhouettes as a nod to their origins, though have very differentiated individual features.

I look to various other artists and designers I like for feature ideas when I'm super stuck (usually when my ideas are more abstract)

for example, scrawl came from a very abstract dream and literally didn't have a face (they were just a bunch of hands and looked a little bit like a black void worm from Rainworld)

I took inspiration from Fooffle's Space AU Warren for his face, Sir Needle's sona's ears for his hair, and gave him this sweater from a random thing I found on Pinterest that I liked

Bennet (and the rest of the caravan gang) came from a dream about various different individuals riding on a wagon - Bennet specifically in the dream was Uncle Ben who runs The Urban Rescue Ranch. I ended up giving him the name Bennet in reference to this, as well as Uncle Ben's broad shoulders, muscular build and curly hair.

Queen's entire existence is inspired off of the protagonist from Bendy and the Dark Revival. As a nod to this, I gave her a partially monochrome color scheme with some accents. Queen's shadow face was inspired off of this specific fanart of Caesar from The Mandela catalogues.

(I can't find the source for the life of me sobs)

Mr. V was inspired off of Itward from Fran Bow, as well as Pastra's sona Clyde the veldigun. I gave him Itward's large hat and formal attire, and Clyde's long limbs and striped patterns. I also gave him deep halloween colors as a nod to both inspiration's aesthetics.

My biggest thing about features is there has to be a REASON why they have these features, but that's just personal preference (and there doesn't have to be a good reason, or even a reason at all every single time)

okay now for the main part of the ask (I've been stalling)

Sorry if this is disappointing, I don't have a process for picking colors that work together

It's a lot of trial and error, and some characters I've even stalled making profile pictures for because I don't know what to color them as.

to me, you can pick any color you want. It's actually very impressive to think about how many colors you could use.

I'll try to explain what I do know about the placement of colors, though. It doesn't matter what colors you use, but in my opinion, the placement of these colors is what really matters in designs.

Depending on how many colors I'm planning on giving the design, I like to split them up into parts. Primary coloration (1,) which takes up most of the design, secondary coloration (2,) which takes up less of the design but still a good amount, (Sometimes I have more, tertiary, quaternary, whatever, that take up about an equivalent ratio of the design as secondary,) and accent colors (3.)

Similar colors can also be grouped together in these sectors. For example, all the purple in this character would be primary, the greys secondary, and the oranges the accents.

For Chakra, his purples would be primary, all the bright colors of the wounds secondary, and his outstanding eyes accents.

Each sector should be different and differentiable from one another!

Divide your character up into sectors for coloration. Decide what colors go where. Sometimes it takes a bit of shuffling to find what works for you. Adding inbetween colors to branch the gaps between your selected colors can help tie things together, too.

To me, instead of WHAT colors you use, it all comes down to how you USE those colors.

Cordis is mainly dark colored, primary, with their secondary rainbow colors and their accented white features. Even with rather bright colors in their palette, they still come off as a dark gloomy character because of the placement/ratio of those colors.

Monarch has very clashing colors, though when separated and balanced out, they appear harmonious and work together.

Anyways that turned further into a rant about character design than anything else

I hope this helped :D

[ryssbelle]

Drew a bunch of Marinettes in a bunch of different artists styles it was a lot of fun!!

Artists who's styles I mimicked: @buggachat @hamsternamedmarinette @ladybeug @sabertoothwalrus and @anna-scribbles all epic artists 🤟😎

[thesunisatangerine]

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part two

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: implied sexual content

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 2.5k

You weren’t sure what woke you at first but when you opened your eyes, you found the brilliant, early morning light that streamed through a crack in the curtains. Groaning, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, not missing the unmistakable rustling of clothes somewhere at the foot of the bed. 

Peeking over the sheets to the source of the sound, you found Ale working to put her pants back on, her bare back to you. You propped yourself against the headboard as you watched on, biting your lip at how Ale’s tattoos deliciously shifted over her rippling muscles. She picked something up from the floor before she turned towards the bed and you caught sight of the darkening marks on her neck and chest. When she saw you looking at her, she smiled, a little bashful, which you returned in kind.

“What time is it?” You cringed at how you croaked out the words.

“Early. You should go back to sleep.” Ale said, putting her bra on as she kept your gaze.

You hummed. “I could say the same for you.”

Ignoring what she said you sat up on the bed, allowing the sheets to slide down and settle by your waist as you stretched. Ale’s eyes wandered to your chest which, you supposed, bore the same marks you could see on hers, and you relished the attention. Once she found your eyes again, you sent her a knowing smirk before you left the bed, headed to the closet where you grabbed the nearest fresh shirt you had, and tossed it to Ale. 

Without even looking at the shirt, she caught it with ease. You raised your brow, both in question and in wonder. In response, Ale just smiled innocently at you. Ale pulled the shirt over her head, hiding the marks from view, then she moved towards you, her eyes dark and shining with intent.

Your body remembered last night’s endeavours before you did: every nerve in your skin lit up in anticipation for Ale’s touch, a fuse waiting for a spark. She laced an arm around your waist and pulled you flush to her front with a strength that left you breathless, her clothed body firm against your bare flesh. Without your heels she almost towered over you that you had to stand on your toes to wrap your arms around her neck. You closed your eyes when you felt the words she spoke against your temple.

“As much as I’d love to stay, I have to go.”

You sighed, unable to hide your disappointment. But what did you expect? You knew what you were getting into last night–you knew this was meant to only be a one-time thing. Besides, you were never one for relationships anyway; all your dalliances were brief and fleeting, ending before they ever got serious. Still, something about Ale pulled you to her, a force that compelled a desire to get to know her. The logical part of you already accepted the fact that you’d probably never see her again after this, but a small part of you wanted to rebel and resist that fate. 

Unsurprisingly, logic won out.

“I shouldn’t keep you, then,” you whispered against her collarbone. Ale shivered and that made you smile: it’s good to know you weren’t the only one still feeling the effects from the previous night.

“You’re not making this easy,” she whined and you laughed. 

“Alright, alright. I guess it’s time for me to let you go.”

There was a moment of silence but not an uncomfortable one. You looked at her, soaked in how her features caught the morning light, how her fair hazel eyes almost appeared like twin golden suns. You were tempted to kiss her lips then but you settled for a chaste one on her cheek instead. “Keep the shirt, to remember me by and… a thank you for last night. It was wonderful.”

“I had a good time, too,” she hummed, a small smile on her lips. 

You returned her smile, and then you gently pushed her away as you took a step back. “Go, Ale.”

Ale stood there for a moment more, took one last look at you, gave you one last smile and she was out of the bedroom. When you heard the front door shut, you sighed again as something akin to regret settled in your bones. Maybe you should’ve at least asked for her number…

“So… did you have fun?” A deep voice filtered through the speaker before you saw the familiar mop of blonde hair and blue eyes on your screen. You rolled your eyes at his dry tone but you smiled nonetheless.

“Oh hi, Derek, I’m doing fine! Thank you for asking!”

Derek gave you an unimpressed look. “Come on. I need details cause that club was exclusive for a reason. So, did you hook up with someone?”

“Dude, stop! That’s so–” you shook your head, a palm over your face. You swore if he wasn’t family you would’ve… you breathed through your nose. “Thank you for the pass and everything but I’m not obligated to tell you shit.”

“Fine, I see how it is. Just ‘cause I’m not there you’re keeping secrets from me now, huh?” He raised an exaggerated eyebrow. 

“Then maybe you should’ve come here with me,” you retorted with faux annoyance. “What’s the point of you owning a house in Barcelona if you’re not going to use it? It’s literally rotting here! The fact that you haven’t even put any personal things in here is criminal!”

“And let this agency burn down to the ground while both of us are away? Pfft, yeah, right!” Derek scoffed. “You know it’s either you or me who can keep watch around here. Besides, the house can wait and you’re using it now, right? So, a win-win in my book.”

He was right but you weren’t about to tell him that so you opted to change the topic. “How are things on your end anyway?”

“Chaotic, as usual. And it doesn’t help we’re now down two–actually, three including you–of our best in the Spot News department.”

At that, you sat up from the couch, alarm and dread filled your body and you brought the phone closer to you. “Oh my god, did something happen?” 

Derek sighed heavily, his demeanour clouded over as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “It was Jones and Gilda–they’re stable, don’t worry!–they got caught in a flash flood on the way to the base at their area. Sick with some minor injuries, Jones more so than Gilda, but thankfully they’re both okay.”

At that, you breathed out in relief. You were well acquainted with the dangers that came with your job but you could never get used to how quickly a situation could get from bad to worse. The mere thought was enough to turn your hands cold. 

“When did this happen?”

“Early morning today in our timezone.”

“Oh, fuck. Derek, why didn’t you call me?!”

“Dude, you’re on leave. And it’s not that I didn’t want to let you know, I just wasn’t about to wake you up in the middle of the night to give you this headache. I’m just about done with the paperworks anyway.” A moment silence, then Derek sighed. “You really chose the worst time to go on leave. You know, I had to send Jersey to start covering Spot.”

“Not my fault you authorised it. I was happy to wait another month, remember? Wait, so if Jersey is doing Spot, who’s doing Sports?”

“I know, I know, don’t remind me ‘cause I’m already regretting it. And no one’s doing it. Spot coverage is more important but–”

“–we get a decent sum from Sports, too,” you finished for him. You did some quick estimation in your head: a month or two without Sports could prove costly, too great of a sum to let go. You hummed, rubbing your chin, but it didn’t take you long to realise that you could help out, your mind immediately fleeted to your conversation with Ale and her suggestion.

“I’ll cover it, Derek.”

“No. You’re supposed to be enjoying your leave–”

“Derek.” You fixed a stern gaze at him, the one you knew that he knew meant your mind was made up. Then you proceeded to reassure him that it was fine, and then you told him about your plan. “Alright, then, I’ll leave the press passes to you.”

“I’ll e-mail them to you once I get ‘em, most likely by tonight your time. I–” 

“Derek, you got to see–” Another voice filtered through the speaker while you watched as Derek turned his head to the side and held his hand up to whoever it was before returning his focus back to you.

“Okay, as much as I’d love to keep talking to you, Robert just brought me a huge stack of paper so I’m going to bail.” 

“Alright. Have fun, you. Talk to you later.”

“Ha ha, very funny. But seriously, thank you.”

“No worries. Kiss Mom for me when you see her.”

“I will. Love you, sis.”

“I love you, too.”

After calling Jones and Gilda to ask about their condition and to send them your well wishes, you decided to spend the rest of your day at the nearby square and the beach. A day as good as this wasn’t meant to be wasted by staying inside so you grabbed several rolls of film and your beloved Leica camera before heading out. 

It was already late afternoon when you found yourself trudging along the shoreline of one of Barcelona’s beaches, appreciating the orange-tinged skies and how the gulls called from above. When you looked to the horizon, you found a mother and her little daughter paddle-boarding just a hundred meters from the shore. You could see almost no details in the shadows of their silhouette but the large setting sun framed them in such a way that you felt to take a shot of the moment. So you adjusted your aperture accordingly, pressed the viewfinder against your brow, lined up your shot, and pressed the shutter.

“I thought you looked familiar… And I was right.”

Your thumb froze over the advance lever when you heard someone speak from somewhere behind you. That voice… could it be?

You whipped your head over your shoulder and found none other than Ale standing there. She was wearing a pair of jean shorts, a white opened blouse that put her toned abs and Nike sports bra on display, loose hair slightly damp, with a leash in one hand that lead to a small, fluffy dog. She also had on a pair of black wraparound sunglasses that she moved to the top of her head, revealing her hazel eyes that captivated your gaze immediately.

You could hardly believe your eyes and your luck; you already accepted her fleeting presence in your life but to meet her again in a city as big as Barcelona without any means of contact… that surely was nothing short of a miracle.

“Ale, hi! I–I never thought I’d see you again,” you said after you finally found your voice but as soon as the words left your mouth, your cheeks warmed. What were you supposed to say to a one night stand in this situation, especially when you clearly wanted it to happen again?

“Me neither. I should thank Nala for dragging me out here.” Ale grinned as she glanced down at her dog by her feet. You crooned as you bent down, then you offered your hand first and only after Nala licked your knuckles did you proceed to pet her.

“Thank you, Nala, for taking your owner for a walk.” At that, a hearty laugh came from Ale which caused Nala, who seemed to be overjoyed by the sound of her owner’s delight, to yip and wag her tail. And just as quickly as she had, she seemed to get bored and began to bound forward, urging Ale to move as well so you stood up, brushed the sand from your palms, and fell in step with her. 

For a moment, the space between you was filled by the sound of the waves, the sound of the shifting sand beneath your feet, and the ever-bustling noise from the city. Then you recalled your conversation with Derek this morning.

“I thought about what you said, about covering women’s football. I’m going to be given a press pass for a match, not sure which one they’ll give me, though. But do you know of any big matches coming up?”

“Really? That’s great! Do you have any particular team in mind or…?”

“Research is still on my to-do list so no, not really. I’m all ears for suggestions, though.”

“I see. Well, there is this match coming up: Real Madrid and Barcelona. Since you don’t know, there’s rivalry between the two teams so any match between them tends to get crowded. You should come watch.” 

“That sounds like a good one. I hope that’s what they’ll get me into. Will you be there?”

“I hope so, too. And yes, I’ll be there.” As she said this, her eyes shone with a glint not dissimilar to what you saw in them the night you met. Her lips tilted to the side, closed but quirked at the corners like she was holding in a laugh. If it weren’t already clear that night, it was now–you were definitely missing something here.

“What?” You asked, confused. What was she not telling you? But at the question, Ale only let out a small giggle, grinning as she did so.

“Nothing, nothing,” she said, shaking her head. You didn’t believe her but you let it slide one more time and the fact that she looked so distracting didn’t help either.

She had her head turned to you, her loose hair framed her face and strands fluttered in the cool, ocean breeze. You had to tilt your head up slightly to meet her eyes and, without any bidding, memories from that night and the morning after filtered through your mind: the way she held you against her, the way you wanted her to stay… maybe you should ask her if she was free tonight.

“–what do you have in mind?”

You blinked. “What?”

Ale threw her head back, letting out another hearty laugh before she looked at you and you saw amusement swimming in her eyes. Then, she continued with a smirk, “you asked if I was free tonight. I said yes. Or… was I not meant to hear that?”

Your ears and cheeks burnt while you internally cursed your slippery tongue.  That was smooth. Real smooth. “Ummm…”

You woke the next morning with a delicious soreness between your thighs, a pleasant reminder of the way Ale ravished you last night. Similar to the first morning after, you heard the rustling of clothes being put on. But before you could fully open your eyes, warmth from Ale’s lips branded the skin on your shoulder. 

“I have to go. See you next time?” Ale murmured softly. You shifted slightly to the side and you saw how the sunlight behind her gilded her hair with an amber halo and made her eyes appear like molten gold. 

Brushing a loose strand behind her ear, you hummed in confirmation and pressed your forehead sleepily against the sharp line of her jaw, closing your eyes as you did so and you whispered, “you know where to find me.”

[bakudekublogblog]

talking to normal people about mha is always so enlightening because someone told me they didn't like season six and i was like???? THE BIBLE??????? YOU DONT LIKE THE BIBLE??? BAKUGOU KATSUKI RISING?? THE APOLOGY??? THE CHASING AFTER HIM TO FIGHT SHIGARAKI, THE REVEAL KATSUKI HAS BEEN WORRIED ABOUT IZUKU, IZUKU'S FERAL RAGE WHEN KATSUKI IS STABBED, KATSUKI BEING THE ONE TO FIND IZUKU AND THEN THE ONE TO BRING HIM HOME??? YOU DONT ENJOY THE SACRED TEXTS?? and then i'm like oh right not everyone is a fujoshi high on that sweet, sweet bkdk yaoi

[aquaregiaart]

Maglor (+ closeup of alternate version,) a gift for dear @samarqqand.

[ghosttotheparty]

also on ao3

(cw: tics, bullying)

Eddie started shivering in seventh grade.

Even when it was hot, even when he was sweating and desperately wanted a non-rattly fan or a better air conditioner. They weren't normal shivers. He wasn't cold. But his shoulders would jerk or shake, or he would tremble for a second, and he didn't know what else it could have been. Others didn't question it for a while, because it started in October. Everyone was shivering. But by March, it hadn't stopped, and he had to explain himself when people gave him questioning looks or asked if he was okay. (Back when people cared.)

'S just a shiver, I'm fine.

He wasn't fine. It got worse over time. He got used to it, to the weird feeling that took over his body for a few seconds, got used to telling people he was cold, joking that he must be low on vitamins or iron, joking that in the future, someone is walking over his grave. But other people didn't get used to it. They thought he was weird. That was fine with him. Wayne realised something was wrong before Eddie started the tenth grade, because he wasn't just shivering anymore. His whole body was jerking sharply, suddenly, his shoulders drawing up, fists clenching. Eddie didn't question it. Wayne did.

It wasn't normal. But nothing about Eddie was normal. Wayne took him to see a doctor. The doctor make him do things, walk in a line, hold his arms out and push the doctor's hands away as hard as he could, follow a flashlight with his eyes without moving his head. It was all weird. It kind of scared Eddie. The doctor kept writing things in a notebook, and Eddie couldn't tell if he was doing well or not. But Wayne was there, watching and listening intently.

The doctor said he had tics. It sounded funny to Eddie, but then it wasn't funny, because the doctor didn't give him anything for it. He just said there wasn't anything really wrong with him. His brain just worked a little differently. (Which Eddie was already used to hearing.) That his tics could get better or go away as he got older, or they could get worse.

They got worse.

By the end of that summer, his arms were moving, flying over his head suddenly, randomly, and his head was jerking back so sharply it hurt. Wayne was worried about him getting whiplash. Eddie was worried about going to school.

That year, he became the freak.

At first, he tried to explain it to people. The movements were involuntary, he couldn't control them. Wayne contacted all his teachers, who mostly got it, but still preferred to make him sit in the hallway so he didn't distract the class. But the other students thought he was possessed, faking it for attention, and everything in between. They'd throw things at him, and complain to the teachers that he was distracting even when he wasn't moving, just to get him out of the room. They would mimic him, make fun of him, and by September, he learned that the tics get worse when he's upset. He could hear them all snickering and giggling as he shoved his hands under his legs and tucked his chin to his chest or held his shirt over his face, as he held his limbs tense so they wouldn't move, so tense he was exhausted and sore all the time, and then he'd go home and cry because he couldn't control his own body.

He'd have to sit on the sofa so when his head threw itself back, it would hit the back of the sofa instead of the wall, and Wayne would just wait, watching with that fucking sadness in his eyes that made Eddie ache even more. When it finally stopped, sometimes after a few minutes, sometimes after an hour or two, he was so exhausted he'd fall asleep right there on the sofa. He couldn't do his homework. His grades dropped even more, but he managed to keep himself afloat. He did the best he could, doing his homework early in the morning before school or in detention. (Some of his teachers thought he was faking. Mr Peterson was in charge of detention, and he was nice. Considerate. Eddie counted him as one of his few blessings.)

His tics got worse.

In December of his junior year, he started making noises. Short screams, grunts, quiet vocalizations. It scared him. He didn't want to go back to school, but he did. The laughter around him got louder, and he was sent out to the hallways more. He started skipping classes. He knew he'd be forced to leave anyway. So he'd sit in the boys' room, on top of a lidded toiler, his feet up on the stall door, and he'd leave cigarette burns on the walls.

Not everyone was awful. Some kids were just curious about him, asked why he acted the way he did, and he did his best to calmly explain it all. I can't help it, actually. It's just my brain works different. That turned into Eddie's brain's fucked. It's broken. He's a fucking--

So he used it. Eddie the Freak. Attention-seeking, desperate for people to notice him. So he started making devil horns, yelling from tabletops, making himself The Freak so no one could use it against him.

No one, not even Wayne, saw him cry at night, because the attention he got was never the attention he wanted. Because he was tired. So fucking tired. His limbs were sore and his voice was rough, and his neck hurt, and he was sick of being laughed at. But that was all he got.

He kept counting his blessings. Mr Peterson, who never minded Eddie's noises or the way his fists would bang against the table loudly in the silent room, who scolded the other detention-goers when they tried to tease. The Hellfire guys, who got used to his tics fairly quickly, and knew when to pause whatever they were doing if Eddie couldn't hear them over a scream or was distracted by his own body. That nice girl, Chrissy Cunningham, who would slip notes from the classes he missed or skipped into his locker or backpack with sweet smiles. (If Eddie wasn't gay, he would have fallen in love with her.) The other few students that ignored him when his tics acted up, just glancing and moving on. Wayne, bless his soul, who would come to the school to confront Eddie's teachers and complain to the principal about Eddie being mistreated by the staff.

And, oddly enough, Steve Harrington.

Eddie never saw it coming. It was a particularly bad day. He was at his locker, trying to line his books up, but a tic threw his hands up, and some books fell from his locker to the floor. He watched helplessly as papers scattered across the floor, as most students stepped around them, ignoring them, as some jocks trampled over them, over Chrissy's neat handwriting, his fists clenched at his sides. When they passed, he kneeled, picking up the books, and when he looked up, Steve Harrington was kneeling too, gathering the crumpled papers and carefully straightening them out.

He gave them to Eddie with a smile, and Eddie thought he might be dying, in some weird, upside-down dimension where Steve Harrington smiles at Eddie Munson. Eddie took them hesitantly, said thank you, and then he hit him.

He was mortified, almost dropping the papers again, jumping back as his whole body flushed with heat, staring at Steve's shoulder where his hand had just landed heavily, and he burst with a Fuck, I'm so sorry, oh my god--

But Steve had just laughed. Amazingly, it was a kind laugh, with sparkling eyes, and soft cheeks, and he said It's okay.

And then he was gone. Down the hall, after his friends, and Eddie realised his hands were trembling.

Steve kept smiling at him. Even when his friends were making fun of Eddie's Satanic cult, and of the way he couldn't keep still, and of his sad, broken brain. Even when Eddie's brain made him flip Steve off across the cafeteria, Steve saw how Eddie pulled his hand down sharply, and Steve just... laughed. Eddie fell in love with his laugh. It was kind, and it made Eddie feel better, even when he wanted to cry.

Steve graduated the next year. But he didn't leave Eddie alone. Eddie couldn't stop thinking about him, and his kind laugh, and his pretty eyes, and then the sheep Eddie adopted told him all about how cool and brave Steve was, and Eddie fell harder without even seeing him.

The world went to shit. But Eddie got to see Steve again.

Steve was still kind, even though the world was ending, and even during serious discussions, plan-making, how-to-save-the-world conversations, Eddie's tics kept going. His body jerked and shivered, and his head threw back, and his fists hit his own chest and shoulders, and he had to sit down. And Eddie found out that there are more kind people than he thought. When his tics slowed, Nancy wordlessly got him an ice pack to hold to his chest, and when he flung it across the room, Robin caught it with a casual oops, and brought it back to him. No one questioned him, or stared, or laughed, even though he knew how annoying he was.

When he woke up in the hospital, he hurt so badly he couldn't move. He just cried. Steve sat by his bed and held onto his hand. He was crying too. When Eddie stopped crying, Steve carefully slid his rings, clean of blood, onto his fingers.

This one goes here, right?

Yeah.

On the second day, his brain didn't care that he hurt. As Steve was telling him about what was going on with the others (Max was staying with the Sinclairs, Dustin's leg was almost healed), Eddie's hand smacked him across the face sharply, the sting of his rings bringing tears to his eyes before he even processed what happened. Steve wordlessly crawled onto the bed, carefully pulled Eddie against himself, and set a pillow over Eddie's lap for when his fists started hitting his legs. He'd just murmured those words, the first words he'd said to Eddie years ago.

It's okay. It's okay.

And he waited until Eddie's body fell lax against him before he carefully found Eddie's hand, laced their fingers, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Eddie was released from the hospital a few weeks later. He stayed in the Wheelers' basement for a few days until Steve's parents left town, for good this time, and then he moved into the Harrington house.

He likes it there. Steve is still kind. Always. He lets Eddie lay his head in his lap when his body hurts or won't stop moving, and he drags his fingers through his hair or holds a joint to his lips for him, and he smiles. (Eddie would go through the end of the world all over again for that smile.) When Eddie's head hits the wall while they're in the waiting room of the hospital for a checkup, Steve just shifts to face him and holds a hand up to the back of his head so his hand hits the wall instead, saying quietly that Eddie isn't allowed to beat his record number of concussions. He drives Eddie to Wayne's even though Eddie doesn't tic when he drives except for a few facial or vocal ones.

When Eddie whistles one night, Steve just smiles at him and says Was that a tic or are you hitting on me? and Eddie freezes, his face burning. Which would you prefer, pretty boy?

Steve kisses him.

And then Steve starts holding his hand even when he isn't having tics, even when they're with the Party. Eddie moves into Steve's room. (They always slept better when they accidentally fell asleep on the sofa together anyway.) Steve holds him when his tics are bad, and Eddie holds him during his migraines, pressing kisses as softly as he can to his forehead and his temples. Steve takes his hand when it moves to hit Eddie's face or chest. Eddie stands steady and holds Steve's hand to himself when he gets dizzy. Steve keeps ready-made ice packs in the freezer to hold to Eddie's chest and legs when they bruise from his fists. Eddie keeps his handwriting as neat as possible when he writes notes in case Steve forgets anything. When they wake up at night, breathless and sweaty and crying, the other is there, arms open, lips waiting.

One night Eddie says very softly, You know, they used to say my brain was broken.

Steve just says, Mine too.

[camelspit]

uhh very quick alternate graphic novel clothing design ideas for sophie.

@skylilac @callas-pancake-tree @arson-anarchy-death @steal-nightmares-leave-dreams @neverseen-nevermore @abubble125 @purplesoup-lad-le @gay-otlc @thefoxysnake @keeper-of-the-lost-dadwin @ravs6709 @did-i-say-you-could-get-up @kamikothe1and0nly @that-glasses-dog @presidentroarie @even-if-in-another-time @nyxpixels @slozhnos @katniss-elizabeth-chase @sofia-not-sophie @moontoastt @lemon-girl-in-devil-town @three-bunnies-in-a-trenchcoat @purpleunicycle @just-a-honey-badger @loverofallthingssmart @antisocialdork @tamsong @cutebisexualmess

[isa-ah]

plurals who follow me. describe the headspace as u see it in ur minds eye 🫵

[clefclefairy]

also now my curiosity is piqued; how MUCH source material engagement counts as "enough" to you personally, to be a participant in fandom? please note when I say "finished" I do mean however you experienced the work, whether it was playing or watching a playthrough or reading or audiobook or movie or so on.

[loverslakes]

honey, i’m still free chapter 3 (6,845 words)

"Byers! It’s time to spice things up a little,” she says with a mischievous grin. “C’mon! Let’s make tonight unforgettable for you and everyone else here.” She grabs his hand and tugs.

“Huh?” Will giggles, having no idea what she’s up to but allowing himself to be pulled toward the bar anyway. When they stop, she spots an unused jar, grabs it, then asks the bartender for two shots.

“First, we drink,” Max says, smiling wildly and handing him the shot. He can’t say no to that. “Cheers,” they say, and then she climbs on top of the counter.

“Attention everyone!” A few people nearby look up at her, but most of the club-goers continue dancing, lost in their own worlds. “We have a groom-to-be here, and it is my personal responsibility to ensure he has the best night ever. Everyone, give it up for the groom!” To Will’s surprise, there’s a substantial roar of hollers and applause. Max holds up the empty jar for everyone to see.

[8cfc00]

augh who up feeling like they should be humanely euthanised for liking media the wrong way... sorry for fandomising certain characters but not fandomising others enough in the right way.

[alchemiclee]

I hate that whenever there's a gay ship, people immediately het-ify it. people are so obsessed with making one the "man" and one the "woman" when that's completely unnecessary, because they are both the man or the woman. It's extremely annoying. these people will completely mischaracterize a character to fit into their stupid little het roles they force on them.

for example, you don't need to make one man the "wife" and feminized him to the extreme and fit him in a traditional "woman" role so the other man can be the big strong masculine manly man. they can both be masculine or both be feminine or both be both at the same time! they do NOT need to be gendered opposites to fit het roles. crazy, I know! it's like no one considers it a possibility! or sees how good it can be to have them be equals without gendered nonsense.

when there's a gay relationship, you have the perfect opportunity for the couple to stand on equal ground. they get to be equals who are just as strong and just as soft as each other. there's no faulty power dynamics where one is above the other (because let's face it, society unfortunately deems masculinity > femininity). one doesn't need to protect the other. they can protect themsleves, fight aide by side as equals. one doesn't do all the housework. they share that duty equally. one isn't weak and pretty, while they other strong and manly. they both are strong and pretty, or masculine and weak at the same time.

equal relationships are amazing and need to be explored more and appreciated. there can be more understanding and working together. i'm bad at explaining what I mean, but I prefer these equal relationships over forcing them into opposite roles to mirror het relationships, which are usually extremely unbalanced and unequal. especially because these not het relationships! so why must they look like one? they can and should look different! so why does literally every shipper and writer out there make them so het coded?

I don't understand why people do this. do they actually believe all romantic relationships must mimic het ones to exist and thrive and purposely force that on them? or have they genuinely just not fathamed that they can be different and dont need to follow the expected het standards?

I wonder, it feels like no one actually knows how non-het relationships are meant to be and how they could work, since het ones are always forced down our throats since birth. it becomes The Standard that everyone thinks they must follow. maybe it's all people know since they don't see any other possibilities. their preferred dynamics for their ships are what we are taught and nothing different, because they don't know it can be different. i also think people might be obsessed with that whole "opposites attract" trope. but that opposite doesn't have to be the traditional het-fueld feminine vs masculine or wife vs husband characteristics. it can be other personality things like one is loud and one is quiet, one is dumb and one is overly smart, one is rich and one poor, etc. it doesn't have to be masculine vs feminine!

BREAK OUT OF THE HET NORMS!!!!! TEAR DOWN HETERONORMATIVITY!!!!!!!!! FREE THE GAYS

(disclaimer, not saying masculine vs feminine ships are all bad/shouldn't be done ever. but it doesn't need to be 100% of the time either 😅 can't think of one ship people dont do this with lol)

[bnnuy-wabbit]

this entire Music Taste debate thing re:rap is getting annoying really fast. Im not USian enough for this.

[alteredsu]

Breh I cut my chin with my own nail 😡

[her-canine-teeth]

bad astrology by flower face

[jinstronaut]

doing this cc wrapped has made me realize just how many of my sets are between 100 - 200 notes. like that's my average notes per set (re: jin a day specifically)

and that's wild all things considered lmao