#steamrollers

[hyakunana]

When you need to lie, but you're a good boy.

[mokadevs]

red❤️

[weevmo]

Squeesh the puppet nose -

A bonus:

[vernidex]

I love this bug too much! Specifically @time-woods chasing stars au version. Carma is precious and I had to try drawing him. Also thought it'd be fun/good practice to try and replicate how they color their art.

Also did a bunch of scrungly sketches cuz his shapes are so good

[momotonescreaming]

Just a little thing based off of this text post of mine.

Eddie had made a lot of bad decisions in his life. Stacked them up like blocks, one on top of the other. Poorly thought out choices, impulsive things, all building on top of one another. There was good, of course — moving in with Wayne, learning guitar, picking up that DnD book at the thrift store — but this, this, was not one of them.

He was really starting to regret everything that led him to this point. Hunched over books and flash cards at the Wheeler’s dining room table, Nancy trying to grill fact after fact into his brain. He regretted failing high school the first time around, and the second. He regretted taking notes that weren’t ‘good enough’ according to Nancy. He regretted mentioning his determination to pass the third time round. He regretted letting Steve get under his skin, looking at him with large, thinking eyes. Regretted listening when he said that he could ask Nancy to help him — she helped Steve after all. Regretted getting into his car and driving over to the Wheeler house on a Saturday afternoon.

Absently wonders if the fact that Steve and Nancy were fucking when she tutored him had anything to do with Steve’s positive view of her studying method. Because, Eddie thinks, doodling a skull into his notebook, she sucks. Glaring at him with all the fury of one of Wayne’s old army sergeants, lips pursed, nails tapping on the wooden table top. Like that is supposed to help. Is supposed to make him feel better about his failures.

He watches the motion of her fingers, nails painted a careful pale pink. Watches as she organises the piles of flashcards she made him write out — writing them himself, and not her doing it would help the material stick better in his brain, apparently. It was almost as if she had forgotten he was repeating senior year for the third time. In the same classes, with the same material, writing it down for the third year in a row. Writing it down wasn’t going to make it stick.

The doodles on the cards don’t help her glaring. The suns, and dragons, and swords, he’d scribbled over all the pages. It helped him think, having something to do with his hands while she lectured him. She didn’t see it that way. He was distracted. As if it was his fault the material was so fucking boring. Or the fact she tutored him with all the enthusiasm of a child being dragged out of their room by force. She didn’t have to say yes.

She sighs, a sharp, put-upon thing. Terse and to the point.

Eddie looked up at her, raising an eyebrow, bitten pen clutched tightly in his hand. She was pointedly looking at him, flash cards in her hands, not saying anything. Fuck, Eddie wasn’t a mind reader. What is he doing wrong now? Apart from everything, apparently.

His notes are bad, his handwriting is too messy, his flashcards are covered in doodles. He keeps staring off into space, humming and tapping and bouncing his feet. They’ve been at this for hours, and Eddie is about to lose his mind.

“What?” He says, gesturing with his hands, before throwing them down on the table. His rings hit the wood with a clunk. It’s satisfying, but he can swear he can see Nancy’s eye twitch at the sound.

“Nothing,” She says, shaking her head so her curls bounce. Tilting her gaze away from him, before looking back down at one of her textbooks. He can still see the purse of her lips, the tensing of her shoulders. “Finish your notes.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Eddie says, feeling a sharper edge cut it’s way through his words. Tries to hold back the urge to dig his nails into the table and scratch. “What am I fucking up now?”

She huffs, looks up, puts the pile of his flashcards down, before looking over at him. “I just think this would go a lot better if you actually tried.”

Eddie inhales as soon as the words leave her mouth. Sharp and cutting. Air cool, but his blood is boiling. His whole body tenses, he stops his tapping and itching and fidgeting. Locks his eyes with hers and grinds his teeth.

“Excuse me?” Eddie says, grating and angry. Glaring over at Nancy with her perfectly permed hair and ironed blouse. With her perfect little family and her dad who earns six figures. With her good fucking grades and the entitlement to match. Who does she fucking think she is? “You think I’m not fucking trying?”

“Well,” She starts, a slight sing-song lilt to her voice, as she tilts her head again, looking down at Eddie’s scrawled notes and doodled flashcards. If she finishes that sentence with some bullshit like ‘if the shoe fits’ or ‘look at the evidence’ Eddie’s flipping the table.

“No.” He says, cutting her off before she can even think of finishing the sentence. Nancy glares at him, snapping her mouth shut. Not even bothering to hide her annoyance at being interrupted. Eddie doesn’t fucking care anymore. “You think I’d be here if I wasn’t trying? You think I wouldn’t have gone back to fucking high school two times, if I wasn’t trying?”

He’s gripping the edge of the table now, knuckles white with the force of it. He can feel his rings digging into his skin, pressed against the wooden table. Eddie’s sure he looks wild, frizzy hair in a halo around his head, eyes sharp and glaring, jaw clenched. Sure he looks like the kind of guy Mrs. Wheeler doesn’t want in her home. Doesn’t want associating with her perfect daughter. Fuck off. He should have said no. Tried to study by himself. Asked Jeff. Anything would be better than this.

Eddie’s fucking trying. He’s been holding his tongue whenever Nancy makes a passive aggressive, snippy comment. Asks her questions when she refuses to elaborate. Tries to hold back his fidgeting and tapping. Hasn’t even been snarking back whenever Nancy huffs and gets all annoyed when he doesn’t automatically know what she wants from him.

“You’re barely making a dent, Eddie,” She eventually says, holding her back straight. Looking down at him. “You’re not listening.”

“No, you’re not listening, Wheeler.” Eddie retorts, notebook abandoned in front of him. “I’m not good at school, I know this, but I’m trying so fucking hard to be better. To graduate. You just can’t get it through your head that I’m not you.”

“Of course you’re not-“ Nancy starts before Eddie cuts her off again. He’s on a roll now, the words tumbling out of his mouth.

“Your little flashcards, and your quizzes aren’t working; and Jesus Christ, you can’t get it through your permed head that maybe you should try something else?” Eddie spits.

“I’m just following the correct steps. They way we’re supposed to do it.” Nancy retorts, voice held carefully in her mouth.

“It’s not your way or the highway, Wheeler. In fact, your way fucking sucks.” He replies. “You’re a shit fucking teacher.”

He ignores her huff.

“Don’t quit your day job, I’m out of here.” Eddie says as he sweeps his notebooks and papers off of the table and into his backpack, not caring about the uncapped pens and the loose papers getting crumpled. Eddie’s not putting himself through this anymore. The second he has all of his things, he pushes away from the table, chair squeaking horribly against the floor. Nancy winces at the sound, lips held in a tight line, glaring at him.

Eddie pulls a smug face at her, before storming out of her house.

The second he’s outside he lets his face drop. Feels the sinking in his chest. Why don’t people understand that he wants to graduate? That he keeps coming back because he’s trying so fucking hard. He wants to make it. He wants to be a better man than his father.

Shoving his keys in the ignition, Eddie drowns his thoughts out with the blaring of his music that thunders out through the van’s stereo the second he starts it. He blinks back the tears that threaten to fall, clenches his shaking hands on the steering wheel, and peels off towards Forest Hills.

[alanshee-keeper-of-realms]

Me remembering the Full Moon episode is next after the Rollercoaster that was Mammons ep and we haven't had Stoliz in 2 episodes,

[s3v3r3dh3ad]

I saw this template in one of my other fandoms a few days ago and was immediately possessed by the urge to make a Punch Out one.👁👁

[overchromatic]

Draw heart wrenching angst of Ichiya

i don't think this counts as heart wrenching but its angst i guess. I don't usually draw sad stuff or whatever. (my heart lives for comedy)

goofy bonus page under the cut

[horijion]

[dont-touch-the-phlebotinum]

maud blyth took one look at lord hawthorn, with all his determined callousness, arrogance, and withering sarcasm, went yesss, another big brother for maudie, and then set about making it happen whether he liked it or not

[uncanny-tranny]

It's weird how people paint "daddy issues" and even "mommy issues" as, like, a joke or a failure on part of the person who has those issues, rather than recognizing that daddy and mommy issues stem, for so many people, from abuse. What this all is is just abuse apologia, and nobody seems to either notice or maybe even care.

When somebody with daddy or mommy issues opens up about the "why," I can't ever seem to shake the fact that they tend to have gone through a ton of abuse and bullshit as a child. It's just crazy that other people would look at that and see a joke or a failure of the once-child who was abused.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Making myself very sad again thinking about Ed's potato sack era.

It's obvious why Ed had to wear the sack onesie. Wearing sackcloth is an ancient and well-known symbol of penance; Ed is literally wearing his regret and desire to make amends on his back for everyone to see.

But from what we know of Ed? He probably fucking hated that thing and he happily put up with it anyway. Ed has a well-known love of soft fabrics and in s1e8 Stede knew he would hate the scratchy texture of sand in his beard. The crew couldn't have known that the sackcloth was a foolproof way to create an Ed Torture Onesie. But he wore the sack and he didn't make a single fucking peep of complaint in front of the crew; when he's alone with Stede he shifts uncomfortably and allows himself to look unhappy about wearing it, but he doesn't complain or let his discomfort show at all when not in private with his boyfriend.

He is absolutely, no hesitation, 100% willing to put up with discomfort to help the crew feel comfortable with him again and prove that he was willing to do what it takes to make things right. This goes for other things in this episode, too - he's visibly uncomfortable and upset when Lucius screams in his face but he doesn't say a fucking word about it and cheerfully lets him push him overboard. And yes, obviously the crew were owed an apology, and Ed knew he'd have to put in the effort. But I really hope that by the end of the season Ed has learned that he's earned forgiveness and that he doesn't have to make himself so uncomfortable anymore to make amends.

[declanscunt]

“because it was never ronan by himself, it was ronan as part of the inseparable threesome: ronan lynch, richard gansey, and adam parrish” — the raven boys (maggie stiefvater)

the dream thieves — maggie stiefvater / steamroller — phoebe bridgers / orestes — euripides (tr. anne carson) / emily i’m sorry — boygenius / dead poets society / backup plan — maya hawke / kill your darlings / night shift — lucy dacus / herakles — euripides (tr. anne carson) / north star — searows / call down the hawk — maggie stiefvater

[marzipanandminutiae]

women who were the only girl with F/F ships in their mostly-sapphic teen friend group, and had to feign interest in the Pretty Gay Anime Boys Of The Week to talk to their friends at all, deserve financial compensation

[willowser]

hey willow since i am so in love with ur katsuki writing is it okay if i ask to pls pls pls make another argument prompt with him since i am currently in the mood for angst (WITH HAPPY ENDING PLS MY POOR HEART CANNOT TAKE IT) ILY WILLOW UR SO SWEET AND NICE AND I WANNA BE UR FRIEND 🫠🫠🫠🫠

we are friends !! 🥺 pals !!! 🥺 you're very kind, tysm !!!

idk if i have a prompt necessarily in mind rn but !! i could talk about fighting with him all the time, idk why there is such a draw to it for me aifhfjakal

the thing about bakugou is that he's not shy at all in almost every other aspect of his life, besides romantically (in my opinion). so if there's ever an issue, he's tackling it straight on; he's sure of himself, unafraid of confrontation, speaks his mind, stands up for himself and what he believes in—and if you're not like that, too, for the most part, i can see how little misunderstandings and hurt feelys could occur so easily.

he's also such a go-getter, so venting to him is probably impossible at the beginning of your relationship because he's immediately just telling you how to fix it and he doesn't understand why you're not listening to him.

like if you're having an issue with a coworker and just kind of lamenting about it to him, he's so—

"need to say somethin'," katsuki grunts, only briefly looking away from the gauntlet he's fiddling with at the dining table. there's a mess of screws and tiny pins and his hands are coated in a grease you can smell from where you're standing at the sink. "gonna walk all over you if you don't say nothin'."

and you're just—frustrated. wanting to complain in order to put words to how you're feeling, in case that will lighten the tension coiled in your shoulders.

"well, i know," you tell him quietly—and you do, you do know that, but you just want to be a crybaby for a minute. "but it's not like i can start a fight in the middle of work."

"why not?" he casts you another quick look, dark and furrowed, before leaning closer to—whatever he's looking at. there's a very small snapping sound, and he leans back with a hot huff and shakes his head. you know it's not but—it almost feels directed at you. "this is why they do it, you know that? because you don't do anything about it."

"i know, katsuki," you frown at him, but his attention is already diverted. "i'm just saying."

"saying it to me ain't gonna help you."

"okay," you huff now, too, before pushing off the counter. "i guess i just won't say it to you, then."

you catch the snap of his head in your peripheral vision, but continue on to your bedroom, not bothering to look back even when he starts stuttering.

"'m only—fuck. hang on."

i think i like writing it bc—there's so much for each of you to learn about each other every time 🥺 katsuki, how to talk to you; you, to read between his lines. and i think that's so sweet 🥺 two people that love each other working through their ugliest parts, and coming out the other side just as devoted 🥺

hope this is okay !! tysm for your sweet words 🩷

[zazrichor]

because the Merlin fandom is INCREDIBLE and made me nearly cry yesterday due to the positive response I got, I put together a messy progress sheet with random WIP screenshots I made partly for myself as a reminder that it doesn’t always look great and partly for twitter. I wasn’t planning to make this so that’s why it’s all over the place.

messy sketch ➔ referenced faces ➔ weird metal skin just because ➔ referenced armor ➔ asaro head method ➔ ✨METALWORK✨ ➔ make new chainmail brush

You can see me working with the loomis/asaro method because the lighting situation was frustrating :) AND I got to the point of making a new chainmail brush, of course, because who am I if not an enjoyer of overcomplicating things?

Thank you for the lovely tags and replies! Every single one made my day and I read all of them diligently 💕