#this basically wrote itself

[lightseoul]

all too much (i'm sorry)

synopsis. the last person you want to see is Bakugou Katsuki. the one person you need to see is Bakugou Katsuki.

cw. depression, suicidal thoughts, depressed!reader, gn!reader, college!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (~21 years old), hurt/comfort

word count. 1.7k words

Your eyes shoot open, and the first word that pops into your head is a curse. Fucking great, you think, I’m still alive.

Weakly propping yourself up on your elbow, you reach for your phone to check the time.

5:37 PM. You napped for one and a half hours. You frown, then shake your head in resignation. Better than being awake for an extra one and a half hours, really.

You wince at the feeling of your parched throat, and you contemplate whether or not you should get up and start getting your shit together. Motivation’s been getting difficult to come by these days, though, and your eyes start shutting closed again, but you startle awake when your phone chimes with a new text message.

Patrol’s over in 30. Same time?

Fuck—you forgot. You and Bakugou have agreed to spend Friday nights together to catch up and prevent growing distant. Maintaining your friendship has been a lot of work, but both of you put in the effort, and as a result, your bond has only gotten stronger in spite of the busyness that came with his becoming a Pro Hero and your entering college three years ago.

Your fingers hover over your screen—maybe you should call it off. You’re not in the mood to see anyone, even Bakugou Katsuki. Not to mention you look and feel like shit. Having your best friend and just recently, crush (because apparently, the heavens wanted to fuck you up even more) see you in this state will indubitably be embarrassing.

After a few more minutes of tired contemplation, you finally type out a response.

I’ll have to take a rain check, Kats. I’m studying for an exam this Monday.

Sighing in relief and exhaustion once you pressed send, you drag yourself out into the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of water.

The ice-cold liquid burns your throat and your head throbs in response, but at least you feel a bit more awake and alive now.

You’re seated on your couch, mindlessly scrolling through your Netflix recommendations on the TV when a loud knocking breaks you out of your post-nap stupor.

You don’t have the time to feel annoyance or panic over who could this person showing up unannounced at the most inconvenient time possibly be because the incessant knocking doesn’t let up. You rush to open the door and find yourself face-to-face with an annoyed Bakugou, still decked out in his hero costume.

He eyes you suspiciously, “I thought you were studying.”

You try to feign nonchalance, but you end up gulping before you can even think about it. “I was.”

Normally, at this point, you’d step aside for Bakugou to come in and make himself at home, though usually, he’d be in civilian clothes after having gone to his own apartment to clean up and prepare, but today’s not normal. He’s decorated with a few dirt marks from patrol, and that omnipresent scowl he wears is still there, albeit less prominent.

“What, you’re not even gonna let me in?”

You toe at your house slippers nervously, “I really have to study now, Kats. I just woke up from a nap to take a break.”

He frowns, “That why you look like shit?”

Normally, you’d hit his arm in fake offense before bursting out laughing anyway. But again, today’s not normal. His comment is wounding when it’s usually meant to break the ice.

“I…” you start, but resort to shaking your head in defeat. You don’t have the energy for this. “Just go home, Katsuki.”

With that, you turn your back to him and beeline to your bedroom. You end up closing the door far harder than you intended, and it shuts with a slam. You wince at the sound, feeling a sudden pang of guilt shoot you in the chest. He didn’t deserve that, you think to yourself. It doesn’t matter, a second thought follows immediately after.

Sighing for the nth time that evening, you plop on the bed and close your eyes, willing yourself to go back to sleep and hopefully, maybe, not wake up again.

Your eyes flicker open at the soft clanging noises outside your bedroom, and you immediately shoot up upon realizing that you forgot to lock the door before walking out on Bakugou.

In spite of yourself and the raging headache that’s been plaguing you on and off for quite some time now, you hurriedly climb out of bed and grab the nearest makeshift weapon in your room.

A blow dryer. Good enough.

Quietly, you tiptoe towards the door and, slowly, open it while thinking prayers for it not to creak. You didn’t even notice your shoulders were tensed up until you lock eyes with Bakugou through the crevice, the sight of whom immediately soothes your nerves despite yourself.

You stand upright, toss your blow dryer onto your bed, and step out of the room reluctantly. Under the white light of the kitchen, you can now see what he’s doing. Donning your yellow apron over the lounge clothes he keeps in your apartment, he’s chopping up green onions and other vegetables for what seems like a soup dish.

It smells heavenly, and your stomach grumbles in agreement.

“And here I was thinking you were gonna sleep through the entire night already.”

A whirlwind of emotions rushes through your body—relief, fondness, longing, embarrassment, guilt—but the one emotion you can bear to focus on, and is the most familiar, is anger. And you don’t fight it from taking over.

“I thought I told you to go home.”

The sentence comes out in a low tone, and somewhat clipped, though you didn’t mean it to sound like that. In spite of himself, you know Bakugou worries, and he definitely won’t be heading back now if he knows something’s off.

True enough, he visibly stiffens at the sound of your voice, and it hurts to see him uncomfortable around you. Another wave of guilt washes over you. Though it gets masked, yet again, with a familiar sense of apathy.

“I heard you,” he shifts on his feet, “but you sure as hell weren’t gonna cook yourself a decent meal, so I stayed to make sure you ate.”

You expected him to respond with some anger himself, but he’s uncharacteristically calm. It’s making you feel even more ashamed of how you’re acting. It’s infuriating. He’s infuriating.

“Well,” you croak as you shift your eyes away from his face, “I didn’t ask for your help, so you can go home now.”

Silence settles between the two of you. It’s unnerving.

You force yourself to look back at Bakugou, who’s now frowning. “I’m sure you had a long day,” you finished.

Unable to hold eye contact any longer, you turn to head back to your bedroom when Bakugou reaches out and grabs for your wrist.

You turn to face him, ready to spit some venom you probably don’t even mean, but the words get stuck in your throat when you see tears rimming his eyes.

You hurt him.

Yet, he proceeds in a calm, but stern, voice: “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Overwhelmed with conflicting emotions, you finally lose it.

“I don’t fucking know, okay?!” you shout, ripping yourself from his grip, “Quit pressing!”

Bakugou doesn’t flinch, nor does he step back from you. He just keeps his ground.

You took his silence as a sign to continue. “I think I’m depressed. I don’t know. I just feel like a fucking corpse every day and I hate the fact that I have to wake up and go to school and talk to people and take care of myself as if the pain isn’t there!” you cry, “I’m fucking exhausted.”

“Has this been,” he clears his throat, “has this been going on for a while now?” He remains calm, though you hear the shake in his voice when he asks.

You sigh, shaking your head. Shouting drained the last bit of energy you had left in you, “I guess. I don’t know—I just wait it out until I start feeling better and functioning like a normal person again. And when I do, I start wondering if I just imagined all that shit.”

The weight of the situation and your admission finally dawns on you in the silence.

You clench your eyes shut, bringing your hands up to cover your face in shame, “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Y/N.”

You brace yourself for some harsh, reprimanding words but they never come. Instead, your breath hitches when you feel a hand fall softly on your head, and an arm pulling you into a hug.

You can’t believe it—you half expected Bakugou to recoil, or even leave, in shock and disappointment, but he’s hugging you. He’s hugging you.

You can’t help it—you burst into tears. Bakugou’s quick to rub soothing circles on your back as you cry into his shoulder. You’re quickly forming a wet patch on his shirt, but you don’t pay it any mind in the meantime. You didn’t realize how much you’ve been suppressing your pain until now. It’s liberating, yet at the same time, the all-too-familiar feeling of shame is creeping in at the back of your head.

Shame over your situation. Shave over having let yourself go to this extent. Shame over breaking down. Shame over not being able to clean after your own mess. Shame over hurting the one person you love the most.

You clench your fist against Bakugou’s chest. It’s all too much.

His voice is low and gentle when he speaks up, “We’ll get you help.”

The mention of seeking help is enough to make you tense up.

“I don’t know, Katsuki,” you shake your head. “I’m scared. Of it not working out. I can’t afford treatment not working out. I don’t know what else I would do.”

You feel him press his lips to your forehead, fleeting, “It will. We’ll find a way. And I’ll be right here with you.”

At a loss for anything else to say, you mumble a quiet apology.

Bakugou scoffs, but you can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “Stop saying sorry, dumbass. I want to do this for you.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou imagines #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #bakugou fluff #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #mha x reader #mehehee #this basically wrote itself #pls mind the warnings!!! #bakugou hurt/comfort

[ghosttrolls]

First passes at comics are always so wonky avsjdkdbbd

#ghostly posts #danny phantom #my art #hmmmmmm I should add... more to that one panel #since I didn't take up the full page maybe I like. make that one taller #wip #-> based on a fic I basically wrote in its entirety last year sometime #I am tweaking it a bit for the format of comic. maybe I post the thing itself too idk #once again jumping into the MIDDLE BTW. I cannot start a comic at the actual start

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddiemas Day 13 -  Snow Day

uh...yeah.. this got way away from me but...here's day 13! (a day late and 4k words more than normal???)

pairing: steddie | word count: 5,201 | rated: T

The following Thursday finds Eddie and the entire Hellfire Club literally and metaphorically clamoring over each other and his large dining room table while their campaign (Eddie had helpfully told him) continues on.

Luckily, Robin had agreed to spend their night off work from the video store with him.

“So, when are you going to do something about your hopeless Eddie crush?”

“SSshh! Not so loud, Rob!”

She rolls her eyes at him, “Sorry to tell you this Dingus, but I don’t think he’s paying you a single modicum of attention.”

Steve looks over at the table from his spot on the couch; Robin’s right, of course, Eddie’s already halfway onto the tabletop, his arms stretched wide and the rest of him hunched low to the wood.

He’s deep into his story and his voice is dropped low, only the tone of it reaching Steve’s ears.

“He’s such a dork.” Steve sighs, shaking his head.

“Yeah, but you loooove him!” Robin teases, poking one foot that had been with her other on Steve’s lap into his side instead.

Steve rolls his eyes at her, “Hand me another slice of cheese.”

She reaches over to one of the leftover boxes of pizza on the coffee table and fishes out a slice for him, “So what are you gonna do about it?” She asks, handing it to him.

“About what?” he asks, taking down half the slice in one bite.

“Don’t play dumb Steve,”

He sighs, “I don’t know Rob; he hasn’t made a move either! He kissed me first, remember? Right over there!” Steve points to the offending doorway, “Because of you, by the way.” he snarfs down the other half of the slice two big bites.

“I remember.” She nods.

“I honestly don’t know what to do Bob, I want to corner him and kiss him all over his fuckin’ body but how’m I supposed to know if he’d be okay with that? Does he want that?”

“Oh he wants that, believe me.”

Steve narrows his eyes at her. She only quirked a brow at him in return. “What do you know, Buckley?”

Robin snorts out a laugh, “I would say to just go for it, but I feel like he’d freak if you did that out of the blue.”

“So, what, I just say ‘Hey, I really really like you, maybe already halfway love you, and I want to know if you’d like to kiss about it maybe?’?”

“Who’s Steve kissing?”

Steve jumps at Dustin’s voice, suddenly beside him. He knew his hearing was going on his left..Robin told him he was just imagining it.

“OOh, Steve’s kissing someone?” This time it was Lucas, his voice teasing as he passes behind Dustin through the door under the stairs with his arms full of pop cans.

“I’m not kissing anyone,”

“He just wants to.” 

Damn you, Robin. Steve glances quickly to the table, Eddie has his back turned to them.

“Who is it?”

“Uh, it’s…” Steve pauses for a half a second, “None of your business. You guys done for the night?”

“Yeah.. about that..”

Oh no–

“Can we stay the night here? We have to start planning out our characters for the next campaign!”

“You guys are done done?” “Not quite,” Steve turns his head to the right, the older kid Frank is standing in the other doorway from the living room to the hall closest to the front door. “We have one more session then I’m DM-ing the next campaign.”

Steve nods along with Robin (whose head is hanging backward over the arm of the couch closest to Frank). “So you…six? Seven? Want to stay the night?” He's already skimming through the house in his head to where the extra blankets and pillows are stashed. He should have enough.

“No, just us.” Mike confirms, plopping down onto the carpet between the coffee table and fireplace across from the couch. “Me, Lucas, Will, and Dustin.”

Dustin nods, adding “And Eddie was going to stay a little longer to plan his own character, since he’s gonna be able to play in the next one.”

Steve turns back to Frank and the other older kid…Jeff…?, who’s now leaning around the doorway too. “You guys aren’t staying?”

“Nah man, we don’t wanna impose, thanks for having us though.” Maybe Jeff said.

“Yeah, of course,” Steve lifts Robin’s legs off his lap and stands, moving to see the three older Hellfire members off at the door. The Harringtons are polite hosts first and foremost. “Thanks for coming, guys.” What was he thanking them for? It wasn’t like they were here for him.

Jeff’s polite smile seemed to echo Steve’s thoughts, “Of course man, thanks for having us over.” “And for the pizza.” the shortest of the three says to the agreement of the others.

Jeff shakes Steve’s hand, the shortest one (Garby? George? It was something with a ‘G’) smiles again after pulling on his coat before heading out to Frank’s truck.

One of Frank’s solid hands lands on Steve’s shoulder in a friendly pat, and it’s almost enough to miss Eddie slipping out the door behind him into the slow fall of fat snowflakes outside. He was surprised to see a swath of snow had blanketed his front yard since the boys had been here.

Steve almost says something, but hears the guys exchanging their own farewells through the cracked door, so he turns back to the steps. 

Will is already coming back down them, arms full of blankets and pillows, Lucas following behind him.

“I was about to go grab those myself–wait, did any of you dipshits call and ask your parents if you can stay? It’s a school night!” Steve follows the two into the living room.

The four of them immediately look cowed.

“OOohh you better get moving guys,” Robin teases.

“All of you up, you’re calling home.” Steve waves his arm as if to shove them all through the hall into the kitchen. “And no complaints, otherwise you’ll all be piling into the beemer before you can say demogorgon.”

Three of the four boys grumble their complaints as they pass him, “Hey, you’re lucky I’m even letting you stay. Seeing as how I’m the one that’s gonna have to drive you all to school in the morning.”

“You’ll already be driving Robin!” Mike complains

“Yeah but I have pretty privilege.” Robin calls from her spot on the couch.

Steve hears the door click closed, and looks over to see Eddie coming back in.

“Hey–” Eddie disappears down the hall and past the steps, only to reappear in the dining area through the other doorway under the steps. He immediately goes back to whatever papers he’s got on the table.

Steve looks down at Robin, who looks up at him at the same time, his confusion is reflected on her face.

He’s about to go talk to Eddie when Dustin calls for him from the kitchen.

-x-

“Steve! Mom wants to talk to you!”

Eddie hears Dustin call from the kitchen, and he stacks his pile of notes together, finally closing them up into his spiral notebook.

He pauses then. Just staring down at the disheveled wire binding. 

He should go. No need to torture himself further, the kids will understand right? He’ll just make up something about his Uncle needing him home right away tomorrow morning or something. 

Yeah. That should work, it’s not like anyone would call Wayn—

“So. You’re down in the dumps.”

Eddie’s shoulders crowd up against his ears at Robin’s arrival.

“I’m fine.”

“Uh huh.” She doesn’t believe him, of course.

He can hear the sound of Steve’s cheery voice from the kitchen, the tone he takes whenever he’s talking to one of the kids’ parents, and Eddie can feel his face screw up in pain.

“Ah hah!”

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.” “You didn’t have to,” he bites out, “It’s not like you’re the one having to listen to your crush wax poetic about some girl he wants to kiss stupid.”

He turns to look at her. Robin’s face is blank for a moment, then a barely-there smug smirk appears on her lips.

Eddie’s vision goes scarlet. “You don’t get to be a shithead about it, Buckley. This is all your fuckin’ fault.” he spits out in a low whisper.

“My fault?” she echoes in the same tone, the smile falling from her face. “What’s my fault??”

“You’re the one who made me think I had a chance, weren’t you? The one who put up that fuckin’ mistletoe? Your fault.” He pokes her shoulder accusingly. His volume was getting higher, so he adjusts before continuing. “I should have known there was no chance; he’s the one who said ‘Now we’re even.’ after he kissed me in Melvald’s!”

“He said tha—”

Eddie was practically hissing at this point, just a steady stream of steam escaping him like a cartoon character. “He just felt bad, Robin! He just felt like he owed me something, there’s no goddamn feelings there!”

“Eddi–”

“I gotta go.”

He scoops up his notebook in one hand and snatches up his bag with the other, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Eddie, don’t go–”

He stalks down the hall past the steps away from her voice. He’s almost to his escape when Dustin cuts off his path from the kitchen doorway closest to the front door.

“Eddie, you’re leaving?”

“Sorry kid, gotta go.” He steps around him, “I forgot Wayne needs me home right away tomorrow morning.”

“But you were going to–”

“I’ll help you later, Dustin.” it wasn’t supposed to come out like that.

“Don’t be an ass, Eddie.”

“You know what? Bite me, Mike.” He really shouldn’t be taking his feelings out on the goblins.

“Fuck you, man.”

“Hey! Hey, what is happening right now?” Steve comes out into the hall then, making eye contact with Eddie for a fraction of a second before Eddie focuses on lacing his boots onto his feet.

“Eddie’s leaving,”

“...Okay? And?”

Alright, ouch.

He yanks his laces even tighter.

“And he said he would help us, and now he’s leaving.”

“Oh come off it Dustin, you heard what he said.” Lucas says, an eyeroll in his voice.

“What’d he say?” Eddie’s head told him that Steve’s voice sounded hurt, but best not to believe his head right now. “He said,” Eddie cuts in, “That his uncle needs him home in the morning.”

Steve’s soft “Oh.” was barely audible over the other three arguing back at him.

He yanks the last lace tight to his calf and stands sharply.

“Yeah, so, thanks for having us over, Harrington, I’ll see ya around.” he purposely doesn’t look up at Steve’s face as he says this, focusing on his notebook and bag.

His hand just reaches the doorknob when Robin’s voice calls out from the living room. “Don’t think you’re going anywhere anytime soon, Eddie.”

Because his arm was already in motion when she started talking, the door opens in front of him just as she finishes. 

The slow fat flakes from only, what, 10 minutes earlier? are now flying harsh and sideways across the light escaping Steve’s front door. It’s piling up out there, and fast. Bessie has braved many a winter in Hawkins, but he knows he’d get snowed in by time they got across town to the park. 

Honestly though? Getting snowed in on the side of the road is seeming much more preferable than staying here after his little hissy fit.

“Eddie? Just stay here, man.” Steve sounds much closer than before, “I don’t want something to happen to you–” What Eddie can only assume is Steve’s hand falls to his shoulder, and he immediately turns away from it, closing the front door and letting his bag fall down his arm to the floor in the same motion as he turns into the kitchen without making eye contact with anyone.

The phone is still warm in his palm when he lifts it to his ear, punching Frank’s number into the buttons on the cradle. 

In the handful of rings it takes for him to pick up, Eddie can hear the others whispering to each other, no doubt things like “What’s Eddie’s problem?”, “Why’s he being mean to Steve?”, “Why can’t he control his big gay feelings for his obviously straight friend?”.

Okay, maybe that last one was a bit much for a bunch of sophomores.

“Hello?”

“Frank, you’re home?”

“Uh. Yeah. You called me at home.”

“Well it’s snowin’ like shit outside now, I wanted to make sure you guys got back safe.”

“Oh. Yeah, yeah, I just got in when I heard the phone. Everyone’s home safe.”

“Alright good, I’m gonna stay here at Harrington’s; talk to you later man, I gotta call Wayne.

“Okay Ed, see ya’.”

Eddie jabs his finger into the phone’s switch to end the call, then starts to dial the trailer. Wayne should be just about to leave for work.

“Y’ello?”

“Hey Wayne, it’s me.” Eddie says, turning his face away automatically when someone shuffles into the kitchen.

“Ed, where’ya at?”

“I’m still at Steve’s. It really started to come down so I don’t want to risk driving home tonight.”

“Good. You stay righ’ there, son.”

“Are you still going in?”

Wayne hums in agreement, “Got to.”

Eddie’s stomach sinks, “Wayne–”

“Now don’ you worry ‘bout me boy, I woke up early enough to get the chains on the truck.”

“Fine, fine. Be careful, old man.”

“You got it kid. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

He hangs the phone back into it’s cradle on the wall feeling much looser now; he’d almost forgotten why he was so wound up, but seized up again as soon as he turned.

Steve was standing at the stove, stirring something that was obscured by his torso. “You want some hot chocolate too, Eds?” he asks, not turning from the stove.

Eddie gives him a short “No.” and goes back out into the hall to unlace his boots once again.

He wanders back into the living room with his bag and plops down in the recliner, pulling out his monster manual and his smaller, less pulverized notebook, the one with the basics of his next character fleshed out in it.

A tiefling bard, one he had imagined as having such thick skin on him that no matter what snide remarks, insults, and bashes to his character were thrown at him, he’d only shrug them off. Something real Eddie’d love to do. A charming, charismatic bard that got all who heard his songs to overlook his hellish appearance.

Wouldn’t that be something.

While he’s mulling over what name to give his bard (he’s waffling between Zarlech and Erron), Robin appears, settling in on the corner seat of the couch beside him.

He tenses up again, thinking she’s going to try talking to him about the too-good-for-this-world man in the yellow sweater in the next room, but she doesn’t. She only sits down and starts back in on the thick Vogue magazine she’d been swiping though since he and his troupe arrived.

Steve comes in with two mugs of cocoa not long after, walking to Eddie first with a soft smile.

“I told you I didn’t want any.”

He regrets his tone as soon as the words pass his lips; Steve looks stunned, the boys’ idle chatter from the coffee table dies off immediately.

Eddie’s face burns in embarrassment, but before he can even open his mouth, Robin says “I’ll take his,” and reaches for the steaming pale yellow mug. 

He passes it over, and stands there for a moment with the other mug before turning and handing it over to Will, the closest to him of the four on the floor.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose briefly, then turns out of the room. Robin’s up and out of the room not a moment later, saying, “I’ll go help him with you threes’.”

There’s a beat of silence, then: “What. In the actual fuck. Is your problem, man?”

Eddie turns to face the voice; all four teens are staring at him, each one with a different level of incredulousness on their faces. Mike’s is the worst, looking at Eddie like he just killed his dog.  And he’s about to get revenge for it.

“Who do you think you are to talk to him like that, huh?” Mike seethes at him, “This is his fucking house, and you’re gonna sit here and be rude as all hell just because he doesn’t like you back?”

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” Eddie hears his voice echo his thoughts. “How do you—”

“Steve puts up with enough shit from us as it is, he doesn’t need it from you too.”

There’s surprise on the other threes’ faces, but Eddie’s got an inkling it’s surprise at this coming from Mike and not from the content of the outburst.

“Uh..”

“Mike’s right, Eddie. You’re our friend, but Steve’s our…” Lucas trails off.

“He’s our Steve.” Will says resolutely. 

“He’s our Steve.” Lucas agrees, “And we won’t hesitate to drop you like a dead fish over him.”

Eddie turns his gaze to Dustin, not looking forward to what he might see in his closest butthead’s expression.

Dustin’s face is set in determined lines, and he meets Eddie’s gaze solidly. “I love you both as brothers, man. Don’t make me choose between you two…Though I will choose Steve.”

Robin returns before Eddie can formulate any sort of response to..all that.., pressing a steaming mug of cocoa into each of the boys’ waiting hands.

She came in with four though, and brings the last one to Eddie. “Leave him be for a minute. I’m sure he will be fine, but he’s upset.” He takes the mug from her and she squashes back down into her abandoned seat with a sigh. “Which usually means he’s going to be doing laundry until I make him go to sleep.” 

Eddie spends the next 25 minutes trying to think about what he’s going to say to Steve, what he’s going to tell him was the reason for his bullshit attitude.

For a solid three, he seriously thinks about telling Steve the truth, that he got all pissy at the thought of him sucking face with whoever it is he’s got a crush on, but that’s really not fair to Steve..or to this mystery girl.

At 30, Robin nudges his arm with her bony elbow, so he leaves his book and still-unnamed character on the chair and goes to find Steve.

He follows the sound of music coming from off the kitchen, stopping just outside the door when the low sound of Steve singing along to ‘The First Nöel’ playing softly through the radio.

It had to be that damn song, didn’t it?

…Okay, maybe it’s not so bad if Steve’s the one singing it..

He steps into the narrow room once the radio host comes back on. It’s small, but there’s more than enough room for the machine’s doors to open and to manuver a basket around in here, and there’s a side door out to the yard at the end of the room; there’s neat-ish piles of clothes in front of the washer and overflowing a basket under the dryer door, a few loose dust bunnies and used dryer sheets litter the corners.

Steve’s standing at the dryer, pawing through a seemingly freshly cleaned pile of towels on its top.

He glances up at him briefly when he enters, going back to the pile immediately, “Eddie, hey, sorry for sulking off like that. I just..got into my head a bit.” Even Steve sounded like he didn’t believe what he was saying. “I’ll be back out in a minute, just gotta take care of this load..”

“Hey, it’s alright man. It’s not all on you, you know.” Steve’s hands stop when he looks over, dropping themselves and a half-folded towel back onto the pile. “Look, I’m sorry Steve. My brain is weird sometimes too; I had some of my own shit pop back up for no fuckin’ reason at all and it just..really threw me. I didn’t mean to take it out on you like that, I swear.” 

The truth. For the most part at least. He really didn’t mean to snap at Steve like that over fuckin’ hot chocolate.

“Really, it’s okay Eddie. You did say that you didn’t want any.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t give me the right to be an ass to you.” Eddie ducks his head in embarrassment.

“Thank you,” Steve finally says. “I appreciate it, Eds.”

Relief floods through him at the nickname, he meets Steve’s gaze again. “Do you uhm, need help or anything?”

Steve smiles softly, “No, I really do just need to take care of this last load and I’ll be back out there.”

A low howl of wind from outside the side door cuts him off before he can reply.

Eddie groans, “Well that sounds like it’ll be fun…”

All in all, it was fun.

After going back to the living room and confirming with the others that he did, in fact, apologize to their Steve, Eddie sat back down with his notebook and got back to work.

He was slowly absorbed into the boys’ huddle and by time Steve comes back in, all five of them are heavily debating what alignment Zardok the bard should be.

Not 30 minutes later, the lights flicker off above them.

“Aw hell.” Steve mutters from the sofa.

“I’ll start running the tub.” Eddie sighs, pushing himself off the floor and waving his arms in front of him so he doesn’t run into any walls on his way.

“Why would you run the tub?” Dustin asks, incredulous.

“You fill the tub with water in case the pipes freeze while the power’s out. That way you still have water to flush the toilets and get clean and stuff.”

“Thank you Will, exactly.” Eddie says. Smart kid. 

Damn. Why doesn’t he carry a mini flashlight again?

“That’s a thing?” Robin asks, then clicks on a flashlight. Where in the hell’d she get that?

“You don’t need to do that, Eds. The place is plenty well insulated.” Steve assures, stopping him from leaving, “The pipes won’t freeze, I promise.”

“....Lucky bastard.”

Dustin goes to the opposite end of Robin’s couch and fishes another light from between the cushions.

He and the other three make quick work of arranging their blankets and pillows there in the living room, Dustin’s light only going so far as to help continue their brainstorming.

Steve and Robin leave them to it, and lead Eddie upstairs with their light. 

One round of fighting off nightmares later, he’s dragged into wakefulness with the smell of cinnamon.

He re-cinches Steve’s lended sweats around his hips and trudges down the stairs.

There are snores still reverberating from the living room, and Steve is standing in front of the stove flipping something.

A square glass pan with an inch of some sort of mixture in it was sitting on the island across from him along with an open bag of bread and half a dozen eggs still in their carton.

The floor under his feet squeaks when he stops in the doorway, alerting Steve to his presence.

He glances over his shoulder at him, then goes back to the stove to flip something again. “Hey Eds, just makin’ some breakfast, you want something?” He turns to him fully then, leaning his elbows onto a clear patch of the island countertop.

Steve must take his sleepy silence as confusion.

“Oh! The power came back on last night. Well, er..” he looks back at the stove’s clock, blinking 5:08 out at them, “Early this morning, actually.”

Huh. Guess it was confusion.

“Anyway, you want some french toast?” That explains the cinnamon. “Or I can whip you up some eggs…?”

“No, no, french toast is great.” his voice comes out scratchy with disuse. “Thanks Stevie.”

Steve smiles and turns back to the stove, “The coffee machine is on, if you want a cup; I’ll have a plate ready for you in just a couple minutes.”

Eddie wakes up slowly with his coffee, watching as Steve resets the clock on the oven to his watch.

“It’s 8:30 already? Shouldn’t we get the kids up for school?” Holy shit. Who knew Eddie Munson would ever sound so much like a mom.

“Nah,” Steve waves him off, “I was up with my alarm to get them up and ready, but when I got down here, Claudia called. The school called a snow day.”

Steve passes him a plate of toast, already smothered with syrup. “You want powdered sugar?”

“Ooh fancy, fancy,” Eddie laughs, adding a haughty accent to his next words, “Bring me my powdered confectionary Steeves, I wish to dust it upon my imported french breakfast.”

Steve rolls his eyes at him, but passes over a short ceramic container of the stuff.

Lucas is the one up next, going to the coffee machine before acknowledging either of them.

He sips on his cup without adding anything to it, the heathen. Eddie’s own cup was nearly drowned out with milk and sugar.

Slowly but surely, the rest of the house wakes up and wanders to the kitchen, each getting a plate stacked high with sweet cinnamon-y goodness.

Dustin, Mike, and Will are sitting at the little breakfast nook table in the kitchen’s front window, getting steadily louder about their plans for the near eight inches of snow that’s blanketed across Steve’s front yard.

“You’re going to help me shovel it out so I can get you free-loaders home as soon as possible. That’s what you’re going to do.” Steve insists, pushing a plate of toast in front of Robin, the last to get up.

So that’s what originally got them all outside, but two shovels can only get two of them so far with the driveway before any of the other five start fucking around.

The first blow comes from Mike, a well thrown snowball hitting dead center on the back of Will’s head.

Then Lucas lobbed one aimed for Dustin but hit Mike right on the nose.

Will’s shovel was abandoned, teams were made, and Steve was left shoveling alone when the snowballs really started flying.

Robin, Lucas, and Will booked it for the bushes on one side of the yard, immediately packing snow up between them and into gaps in the branches to protect them from the flurry.

And of course, the only other good cover on the other end of the yard from them was Steve’s beemer, so Eddie, Mike, and Dustin dove behind the newly uncovered tires, frantically packing snowballs from the untouched drift under Steve’s car.

“Really?” The three of them look up at the sound of Steve’s voice.

Fuck, he looks so adorable all bundled up like this. Nose and cheeks bitten red with the cold and with the exertion of shoveling, scarf tucked around his neck and into his jacket, the dark blue mittens, one on his hip and one over the handle of the shovel, the matching knit cap—even as he glares disapprovingly at them.

“So you’re not gonna help me, and also subject my baby to enemy fire? Not cool, guys.”

Mike lobs a ball across the yard.

“Join us then! Help us defeat those heathens and we’ll help you with the driveway.”

A snowball smacks into the back passenger side window of the car

“No.”, Steve says with finality and goes back to shoveling.

Another ball soars over the roof of the car and splats across the cleared-ish pavement behind them.

“Awe, you’re no fun Stevie.” Eddie complains, though he’s definitely not complaining about the view he’s got right now.

Dustin sends one back, mumbling out a “Damn! So close..” soon after.

“Bite me.”

Not 10 seconds later, a blast of snow smacks the back of Steve’s head.

Everyone freezes.

-x-

He turns slowly back around to face the three snow-covered idiots crouched behind his car.

All three stare wide-eyed at him, faces flushed with cold.

Mike and Dustin's hands raise at the exact same time, both pointing at Eddie.

He can tell from Dustin’s face that it was definitely him that threw the thing at his head, but the panicked, adorable, wide-eyed look Eddie has at the accusation is worth playing along for.

“What?! You traitors!” He scrambles up and back, glancing over and managing to duck a snowball aimed for his head by Robin, “Stevie, sweetheart, darling, you know I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Do I?” He growls out playfully, advancing on the doe-eyed menace.

“Yes! You know I love you, Steve, I would never betray you like that.” 

The words, even said teasingly as they are, make Steve’s stomach swoop heavily. He’s lucky his face was already red from the wind.

“I don’t know, Eds,” He holds out one mittened hand to Mike as he passes between the two boys. He drops one into his palm. “Sounds like something you would do.”

He raises the snowball and yells out, chasing Eddie around the front of his car to the hoots and hollers of the others jeering him on.

Eddie is not a good runner, and his Reeboks slip and slide as they try to carve a path through the fresh snow in the yard.

He’s quick though, and doges out of Steve’s reach when he almost catches the back of his borrowed puffer coat, launching off toward the side of the house instead.

Oh no.

“Wait, Eddie! There’s a—” Eddie’s dark head of curls disappears under his feet as he slips off over the side of the hill. “Hill—shit!”

Steve spoke too soon even for himself, unable to stop his momentum before he slips down the hill too.

Snow pushes itself under the back of his jacket down the first half of his slide, then one of his feet gets stuck up under him and he tumbles ass-over-tea kettle the rest of the way.

“OOF—” he lands on something much more solid than snow at the bottom.

Eddie’s cackling laughter bursts out from under him, his chest heaving with it under Steve’s own.

“Eddie, you okay, man?”

Steve pushes up on his hands, one on either side of Eddie’s torso, to look down at him properly.

He lost the red hat he’d grabbed when they came outside earlier, gone to the snow somewhere, and his hair is fanned in an almost perfect halo around his head.

The red spots on his face show off the flakes that fall onto them briefly before they melt under the heat of his skin, his mouth open wide and his eyes crinkled shut in laughter.

Steve was already head over fuckin’ heels for this man, but…oh.

Oh.

Eddie has laugh lines.

They’re so deep already, crinkled up at the corners of his eyes, but for a split second, Steve can’t help but wonder how much more they’d be in 10, 15, 20 years in the future. 

And he realizes in that instant that wants so badly to be there to watch them grow longer.

look out, it's noelle coming in hot with the Oh. Oh. moment!

other parts! Pt. 1 (Day 1) | Pt. 2 (Day 2) | Pt. 3 (Day 5) | Pt. 4 (Day 6) | Pt. 5 (Day 7) | Pt. 6 (Day 11) | Pt. 7 (Day 13) [YOU ARE HERE] | Pt. 8 (Day 18) | Pt. 9 (Day 21) | Pt. 10 (Day 25) also on AO3! this year

#also as always: no beta we die like barb #i basically wrote this in order from start to finish #i had no idea where this was going #it wrote itself through me #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddiemas #st #stranger things #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #st fic #the party #robin buckley #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #will byers #jeff stranger things #gareth emerson #frank the freak #wayne munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #platonic stobin #eddeve #steveddie #noelle writes

[souredfigs]

Me,a starstruck 15 year old reading the Odyssey for the first time : *sighs* wish I was born in 12th century BCE so I could see Troy and-

The fucking Sea people: BRING US THE GODDAMN WARSHIPS

#pLEASE #the sea people theory haunts me in my dreams #keeps me up at night #their origins are highly disputed and we can never put exactly where they emerged from but they wrecked HAVOC #towards the end of the bronze age #egypt under ramses iii was only able to defend itself theres an entire depiction of the battle that was found #they basically destoryed so many major cities including troy #we know this becuase theres a layer of charcoal in thr ruins of troy #when you think about it actually #its very easy to see how homer wrote the illiad and odyssey #because he grew up during the dark ages of 400 years where he was surrounded by these ruins #and he was like “fuck it might as well write a fanfic” #okay #i will shut up #homer #the illiad #the odyssey #bronze age civilisation #12th century bc #sea people theory #and vampy ranting about history

[skitskatdacat63]

Boy King AU | Vettonso + Martian | 1.3k

There's something about putting the future emperor of the Holy Realm on his knees like this. About how easily he goes, how willingly, how obediently. What would his adoring public think if they could see him now. If they saw their beloved king pressed down like this, in the cramped space between Fernando's legs. When they realized their little boy king took it like he was a little concubine instead. 

Fernando's bitterness is lifted away in moments like these, like taking off a heavy cloak on a winter's day. It was hard to feel humiliated about his own situation when watching Sebastian debase himself like this. 

He always gives himself up so easily. When Fernando threaded his fingers through his thick curls. When he pulled them, and then when he pressed his face down further down into the vee of his legs.  Sebastian rubbed his cheek into the coarse fabric of Fernando's breeches and blinked up at him. Fernando had to smother an embarrassing sound; he was just like a little cat!

Sebastian quirked his lips up into an odd little smile and slightly rose up on his knees, "What's funny?" Fernando swallowed lightly and schooled his face back into being impassive, "Nothing. As you were." Sebastian simply smirked at him and let himself be pushed back down by the fist clenched in his hair. 

Fernando scoffed internally, there was only so much pleasure in putting the other man in his place when he instead acted like this, this degrading action, was his birthright. He took to ruling and indulging in carnal pleasures as if they were of equal gravity. To be privileged to hold such high station and also let himself be taken apart like this…Fernando felt embarrassed for him.

He is dragged away from his musings when Sebastian moved to settle his hands in Fernando's lap, clutching his hips over the fabric and slightly squeezing; Fernando fought against the urge to shiver. Sebastian pushed up the skirt of Fernando's waistcoat and smoothed his hands over the opening flap of his breeches.

His eyes darted up at Fernando again, a daft smile on his face. Fernando scowled at him, "What?" Seb's grin sharpened, "You could stand to be a little more gracious. This is your future emperor, and future husband might I add, kneeling for you on this dirty, depraved, derelict- ah–" Fernando tugged on his hair again and hissed, "Well then, why don't you show me how eager you are to perform your marital duties?" 

Seb licked his lips, completely unconcerned by Fernando's annoyance, and unbuttoned one side of the closure to Fernando's breeches and moved to open the other–

The door to the carriage flew open, arrival announcement dying on a wheezing breath as the servant took in the image the two kings made. One splayed across the seat, exuding power, the other kneeled, debauched, between the former's legs. 

One would be hard pressed to determine which was higher on the totem of power and titles. 

There was something gratifying about this to Fernando, about being caught. He had been humiliated enough throughout the entire courtship, what was one more thing? And, certainly, what was one more thing if he could drag Sebastian down into the dirt with him. 

"Oh Mark, don't act so abashed! It's nothing you haven't seen before, in fact, we have been in this very position not even a fortnight ago!"

Oh. Yes. That. 

It was hard to be completely pleased when he remembered how Sebastian had already spent years prior to their engagement sampling the palace's ample selection of fellow high-born men. And how all those men seemed to be completely and utterly wrapped around his little finger.

Fernando released his hand from Sebastian's hair as if it had burned him. He did not understand why he felt ashamed with Mark looking in on them like this. Fernando was the one marrying Sebastian, not Mark; Mark was just a lowly courtier who had the esteemed duty of spending practically every waking hour with the brat…something he himself was decidedly not looking forward to. 

Sebastian stayed kneeling, staring impassively up at Mark, still fiddling with the clasp on Fernando's breeches. Fernando gritted his teeth and looked up from where he was watching Sebastian's clever little hands; Mark stared back at him placidly. 

Mark's indifference made the entire situation worse. Fernando now felt as if he was not doing anything unique, not doing anything particularly new. How many other men had Mark caught Seb with in this exact position? Fernando felt like he was just another plaything of the boy king, soon to be boy emperor, except his position was forever, permanent. He was the "Kept King", the king who only kept his throne due to the whims of a boy who doesn't even understand what power is.

Mark coughed, "Well," he says, "Your Majesty, I do believe you have a meeting to attend." Seb pouted at him and whined, "We were just getting to the main course," but still braced himself on Fernando's thighs and got up off the carriage floor. 

Seb pranced down the steps Mark had placed next to the carriage, miming tripping sown the stairs, snickering when his action made Mark reflexively reach out to grab him, and then playfully skipped off the final step. 

Fernando couldn't help but stare as Mark made the weirdest grimace in response, and he inexplicably felt all his mortification seep away from him. Huh. Maybe Mark is-

Seb then turned around and frowned at him, seemingly disappointed, but his eyes are deceivingly sharp, "Fernando, I regret to inform you that I have other duties I must attend to, you will simply have to wait." He then grinned up at Mark next to him and giggled as the other man stiffened when Sebastian looped both of his arms through Mark's. 

He leaned all his weight on the other man, Mark not so much as shifting his weight, "Oh Mark, won't you carry me back to the palace? I'm so very tired after all the horse riding," Seb looked up at him imploringly.

Fernando observed as Mark rolled his eyes and shrugged off the man, though notably not pulling his arm from Seb's grasp, and he got the distinct feeling that this exact scene had been played out countless times before. 

Fernando clenched his jaw as he watched Seb turn and saunter off, Mark trotting alongside him like a loyal dog. Fernando was supposed to be the unaffected one in this partnership, the unflustered one, the unconcerned one. And yet here he stood, in broad daylight, in a foreign kingdom, on the steps of a carriage with his breeches half unbuttoned and his cravat in disarray. 

He heard a cough from beside him, jolted and looked to the side. Sebastian's loyal Horse Master stood there, lounging against the side of the carriage. Fernando had forgotten who had even been driving the carriage in the first place. After Seb has let himself be pushed down, his hair still windswept from their ride together, everything else seemed to fade away. His thoughts were reduced only to how he could mess up the younger man's hair further. 

Jenson grinned at him wolfishly, and casually crossed his legs,  "First time?" he inquired. Fernando glared at him. The other man laughed openly at him, "What? He's a busy man with big prospects. You're not his majesty's only conquest, you know. Now your throne on the other hand…"

Fernando seethed, it was one thing to be humiliated by the future emperor, but to be patronized by the king's horse boy? No. It would simply not do. He closed his eyes in annoyance, pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaled, and prepared a speech about how he was not about to be talked down to by a man who didn't even have a throne to speak of! 

But when he opened his eyes again and opened his mouth to begin his tirade, Jenson was already wandering away to tend to the horses. Dios mío, Fernando was not mentally prepared to spend the rest of his life with all of these impertinent morons. 

#i love how i kept saying to people: no no i shant write any fic for this. only art. #me like two weeks later: hey guys :) #this is just: i was sitting in class and had a drawing idea but then im obv not drawing *this* in class so my brain went into narrative mod #not exactly 'baby's first ficlet!!!' but moreso ive not written in a while so i hope its alright??? #but aaahhh this was actually pretty fun!! idk i think it was bcs i was also being brainrotted by the image of seb kneeling.... #maybe ill draw it. but it felt like something that needed the context of narrative and not just oo here is a drawing! #anyways you can always ask me for a directors cut-(PLEASE PLEAE BEGGING PLEASE) #see this is why im not cut out for writing fic #its not like i dont think it can speak for itself. more that im just an overly reflective person who wants to explain all my thoughts #if i wrote fic itd really be just: chapter 1. chapter 1.5 chapter 2. chapter 2.5 #anyways i think its pretty obvious but this is before their wedding and just like peak bitterness. #well not peak. peak would be the first year- first few months of their marriage #but this is fernando who is only just realizing how naive all his expectations of seb were and getting a glimpse of his future #but mostly: mindgames and power play and: whos actually really winning? #also my god jense is literally the best chara in this au. he is vibing and basically just witnessing ye olde reality tv #mark and fernando are always in a weird powerplay with seb(even if seb isnt even consiously doing so) and jense is just free from it all #hmm now how does one go about tagging fic #vettonso #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 #formula 1 #martian #sebmark #also idk why im always so concerned abt tagging when im basically just writing this for my little boy king following i have somehow formed #hahaha! it is art to me!: #catie.art. #boy king au

[silverliing]

look im not saying the bowl cut has to go but if they’re going to give will a different haircut in st5 it better be giving 80’s clive barker

gay horror icon

looking slick will

ADDITIONALLY

if the “will is the architect of the UD” theory (<- not actual name of the theory bc idk what people are calling it these days but it’s the one wherein will created hawkins and the lights in the UD bc he has creation powers) is correct then Will and Vecna could be giving off this dynamic in s5:

“bitch, I MADE you”

image caption: William Byers hanging out with his abominations in the Upside Down after finding out he can control and commune with them.

#listen hellraiser was in the inspiration board for ST4 this post basically wrote itself #stranger things #will byers #st5 #st5 predictions #will byers has powers #will byers headcanons #byler #< target audience #clive barker

[roppiepop]

JayTim Week Day 7: Forced Vacation or Night Sky/

Constellations or Deserted Island/Stranded

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 5 | Day 6

#jaytim #jaytimweek2022 #jason todd #tim drake #jaytimweek #roppie tries to draw #LAST DAY!!!!!!!!!! #and were ending it on a schmoopy note #love the idea of jasons and freckles and the prompt basically wrote itself #something something the more embarrassed a person is the more shameless their partner gets #they just love eachother okay!!!!! #this is also a companion piece to day 6!!! if anyone was wondering why they have the same premise djsnsbsnsn

[flamingredanon]

Ever find an old wip of something and you have no idea what your brain was thinking at the time?

#mod lizzy rambles #found a wip of a fic where dr v couldn't save right #but reg was still holding her at gunpoint so she decides to just reanimate right with the cybernetics #leaving reg happy without knowing the truth and a basically walking blank cyborg with only vague descriptions on who he is supposed to be #the document itself was the plot notes then the first paragraph of the fic and then the word gun as a second paragraph starter #there is also a wip fic with the words charles ran #no idea why he was running but if anyone wanted to know how my processes works then this probably doesn't help #some fics are planned some are just seeing something spark an idea and some are just i couldn't sleep so i wrote it #*rolls off into the void of bed and sleep*

[idealest-of-ideals]

Enemies to lovers kousano.

Thats all.

#To ME their relationship would be sooooo sskk coded #They would hate each others guts and talk shit about one another behind their backs #I saw this one art of them both beating each other up and I can't stop thinking about it #Like obviously they're not that action oriented but I think they would still pull some shitty stuff over one another #Yosano would hate kouyou bc she thinks she's a cocky prissy bastard in the same way she kinda hated on chuuya that one ep #Also the fact that she works so loyally under mori. who. we all know what. #And also kouyou abusing and manipulating kyouka in a similar way as to how mori manipulated her #Kouyou would hate yosano too. not to as much of an extent as yosano would #But. enough #It would probably be similar to akus jealousy towards atsushi #How yosano was able to grow and leave the toxic environment she was in (mori) and become a person who can love themselves and shit #And how kouyou couldn't escape the mafia as a kid #So she convinced herself into believing she didn't really deserve a normal life #But her hatred of yosano is wayyyyy more repressed #Since she's more on the logical side #And since kyouka cares for yosano too #So she wouldn't deprive kyouka of another person in her life #But as time goes on and kyouka heals and learns to accept and understand kouyou for her (undoubtedly) toxic actions #This is where the shin soukou-esque shit comes in #They obviously don't partner up and shit #Since they have basically nothing to do with each other in their respective organisations #But they try to get to know each other??????? #Idk how romantic relationships work but from here on they get all competitively flirty and lovey dovey #And yeah #Idk #These are a fuck load of tags #I should've just wrote this in the post itself #Bsd #Bungou Stray Dogs #Kousano

[thedevilandhisbride]

how will we ever get the spark to wonder, question, and think deeply about art when someone says a prompt or two into a generator, and out comes a painting that doesnt mean anything, because nobody took the time to tell a story within it? how can anybody do that if the art has no meaning like with ai art? when it isnt meticulously crafted by the complex mind of a creative human?

you cant tell an ai to convey the hurt and betrayal of a mortal against their own hubris as they fall off of the high horse they pitched themselves upon the way that a human would, because ai isnt human. it will never be human. and to compare ai art to human art and call them equals is dehumanization, and it strips art of every power it has ever had across the whole of human history.

#tdahbposting #why should be care about ai art when nobody cared to actually make the art in the first place #i got in a heated argument with my dad about ai art and it really hurt me as an artist #so here is basically what my thoughts where. i wrote a lot to my gf but these points summarized it #if you couldnt tell i hate ai art #also the piece i was referencing was the fall of icarus #ai art #fuck ai art #anti ai art #ai art debate #ai art is not art #i had a lot more rambling about if ai art tried to make a bunch of historical pieces of art and writing based off of what i argued about #earlier with my dad- mainly the bible and many pieces of art that are from that side of the religion sphere #because we have a 3d textural piece of the last supper passed down in our family from germany and he was. rambling earlier #but ai art could never recreate the human experience of wonder and love and dedication in and through art #you cannot begin to compare the inhuman art of ai to human artwork and beginning to do so is unbelievably awful to do #every stroke of story put into human art is something that only humans can continue to recreate- not ai or any other robot #the only way that the robot that scoops its own oil back in endlessly has that effect is because a human made it #the only way that robotic art effects us is because a human made it. a human made that robot do that. a human programed that robot #the robot didnt program and make itself the way that humans do #and when a human makes ai and that ai makes art #its only an imitation of humans #that ai cannot think cognitively or critically enough- or at all- to create its own Actual artwork #saying that it can and that it is equal in value to real human artwork is the most out of touch take #and if you have that take? you should be ashamed

[zenmai--jikake--no--komoriuta]

MiqoMarch'24, Day #7: - light -

A bit of a different take on this prompt, today is all about sin eater D'nyr from the point of view of an alternate timeline where he really did become a Lightwarden!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀- observations log. 1/5/XX, day.?? - ……..thus the creature was bestowed the title of Forgiven Temperance by its former allies, following the meaning of self-sacrifice and asceticism; excessive restraint/repression of one’s self for others benefit. At his core, one can suppose that this was both his fatal flaw and driving virtue! The poor soul… To date, nobody knows for sure what the beast fully looks like, not even those who fled the site of its transformation at the depths of The Tempest! It has scarcely budged from its initial location a few moons ago… obvious logistical reasoning aside, only a scant few exploration teams have had the wherewithal to venture down there past the safety of the Ondo's dwellings. Reports have led us to believe that the creature is covered in sharp spines and has monstrously large "claw-hands" (as it was described), or possibly some sort of scorpion-like tail as well? Its profile is unclear and hard to make out in the murk from such a distance, but one thing is unanimously clear; all of our teams have fled after seeing what they claimed to be "horrifying gold eyes" staring back at them! Yet the beast has not once given chase upon sighting our researchers, which is just as unsettling as it is perplexing… Due to the unique constraints inherent to its location, we are at present unable to cull the Lightwarden and return the night to the region of Kholusia. Mercifully, its light has not pierced anywhere else due to the sheer distance from the water's surface acting as a convenient attenuating filter, but one could surmise that if the beast were to emerge then all of Norvrandt would be under light pall again… its effect on the populace is quite clear: residents have responded with equal levels of fear and also apathy to this situation, as while some are content to live their lives as they had been before (with the beast effectively "out of sight and out of mind" and therefore not a problem), others are starting to become fearful of the ocean entirely (a complicated notion, due to their relative proximity at all times to it)! Disquieting rumors have started to spread amongst fishermen and sailors alike, that if you venture too close to the ocean you'll be dragged under by the Lightwarden, never to be seen again… though one would hope most people would question how bogus this sounds-- if you'll excuse me interjecting my own personal opinion... at this juncture I simply cannot see the Lightwarden ascending from the briny deep just to prey on hapless passersby when it has showed absolutely no inclination towards moving from even just one single spot-- it has nonetheless had a noticeable impact on the region's imports and exports of fish, so now we must find an effective way to quell the people's terror to rectify the economic impacts alongside dealing with the creature too………..

------ (as a bonus, have the rough draft of his Lightwarden trial encounter under the cut! because I am sad it will never get to see the light of day otherwise and I was proud of the concept years ago lmao)

CONCEPT: . Overall theme is “the breaking down of appearances to reveal what was always there, but hidden away”-- stage and boss both change per phase to reflect this, going from a more idealistic “this is what the WoL as a sin-eater would look and fight like” to a “ohhh god what is that that’s not the WoL anymore” . Mechanics are based around D’nyr’s repressed feelings towards others (loneliness, anger/the need to lash out sometimes, not always saying how he feels, his dislike of others putting him on a pedestal, etc.) and the world at large (eg. the fragility of life, futility of some things, etc.) and his unfulfilled hopes and wants (to live unfettered by responsibility to the world, to settle down with a family of his own someday, etc.)

PHASE 1: . Certain mechanics grant a stacking buff to the boss (Fervent Denial), which is necessary to progress the fight! These mechanics have an interrupt bar and represent the feelings and things that D’nyr has repressed-- if the cast is interrupted, the buff will not be given, increasing the flat % of damage taken from the ultimate attack at the end of the next phase [it's calculated based on the damage dealt to the boss in the first phase (% thresholds that indicate how much it weakens the overall ult damage by), as well as the actual phase progress bar (below 80% is no extra damage, at 80-90% it is +3% extra damage, 90-99% an 5% extra damage, and 100% a flat wipe)] . In a meta sense, the only way to put him down for good is to damage him when he is at his most vulnerable (ie, his final form), and the only way to get him to show that is to let him go berserk and not deny him the things he’s been disallowing himself all this time-- as D’nyr at his core would never allow himself these actions, it causes a “breakdown” of the mask (literally, the bosses’ one too [he has a blank slate mask with a golden kintsugi X like D'nyr's scar, for context]) and internal walls holding him back, fracturing his perceived sense of self and causing him to shift into a form that represents all of these denied things, which is what truly needs to be destroyed/purified! . Normal mode has 7 chances to grant Fervent Denial giving some leeway for mistakes (the buff stacks cap at 5 however, so it is not possible to get 7 stacks despite there being opportunities to do so), but Extreme only has the exact 5 chances needed to progress! If players have not let the boss reach at least 5 stacks by the time the hard-enrage longcast goes out, the party will wipe. . Fervent Denial also slightly increases damage dealt by the boss, so he will gradually hit harder and harder over time, plateauing right before the phase change. . After the boss uses its phase-shift move (what would normally be the yet-unnamed hard-enrage longcast), the stacking buff will disappear and the boss will become untargetable, beginning the DPS check phase.

DPS CHECK: . Unfinished from here on out-- but basically beating up… some kind of add, and while you do that the boss' mask slowly cracks with bright light before shattering into his second form and unleashing his ultimate attack (he becomes more agitated and spiny-looking but I never finished designing any of his forms so just imagine the possibilitiiiiies)

PHASE 2 & 3: . To be continued……. or not! maybe someday :')

#this was SO MUCH FUN #I've had sin eater stuff in the works for years and some finished scraps of info here and there but nothing complete enough to show #it's basically a few pages of bullet points spitballing various ideas but when I went to actually draw out and design the bastard- #-I could never make something I was completely happy with so I kept dropping the idea for later and never really finished it #it's a shame because I can FEEL internally like I have a great design somewhere in there but I can't seem to put it to paper well....... #I figured journal-style prose would be ideal for today bc I can be as vague as I want to explain the lack of concrete design lmao #ALSO I had none of the tempest stuff written beforehand and it all just snowballed and led more and more into itself as I wrote-- fantastic #it just writes itself and I'm so fucking jazzed about that because it's giving me fresh ideas to work with and augfljgfdk I LOVE IT #MiqoMarch2024 #MiqoMarch #ffxiv #d'nyr fellcrest #d'nyr

[kineticallyanywhere]

Monkey’s Paw pages 80-85 ( START HERE || ao3 || previous || next )

AU after episode 62. The Omega Dads try a more desperate gambit, but careful what you wish for. Our dads find alternate versions of themselves in a strange dreamscape. Do you trust yourself?

Hen’s secret weakness is that he doesn’t know not to step on a Lego.

#monkeys paw #dndads #can you tell i didnt like hens first outfit #also hed been running around in his pjs #also can you tell that I needed to make sure henry had a backup color/identifier accessory #drawing bb lark and sparrow slaughtering me #anyway whos ready for esoteric eldritch exposition #ME ITS ME I AM IM READY #i wrote the upcoming conversation before s2 started and it has basically not changed #and thats not even stubbornness on my part theres just nothing in s2 so far to make me change it #also im 85 pages in now its too late IM ALL IN NOW #my characterization of henry not knowing how to talk about this is because #HE TALKS ABOUT IT O N E TIME WHEN F O R C E D #PHYSICALLY FORCED #BY THE THING ITSELF #we may have Darryl We'll-Talk-About-This-Later Wilson #but we also have Henry We'll-Talk-About-This-Over-My-Dead-Body Oak #Henry be like 'ill bottle all these up where the people i love cant see it #and then one day ill die' #WELL GUESS WHAT TREE MAN TIMES UP

[lagosbratzdoll]

people genuinely believe that grrm wrote f&b, and showed us all the Targ women who suffered because of their gender just to end the main series with another Targaryen woman dead on the blade of yet another Targaryen man.

#he wrote about the dance and the usurpation of the amethyst empress #and how that led to the death of the dragons and the first long night #how women being denied their birthright led to the decline of their dynasty #he’s basically broken the pattern of targ women with daenerys #but people still insist he’ll bait and switch us in the #last two books and dany will go mad and be put down like a dog #by either jon snow or faegon #they insist that dany sitting on the iron throne is predictable and cliché #but how many women have sat on thrones in their own right? #how many have power of their own #not through husbands or brothers. #from rhaena #to the first daenerys #to rhaenys #to rhaenyra #to daena the defiant #targ women go from power sharing with their brother-husbands (the conquerors) #to usurpation and abuse #and far too many of you are salivating at the thought of the cycle repeating itself #i love #asioaf #but the amount of incels in the fandom is so concerning #misogyny is literally killing all the joy #daenerys targaryen #will thrive and she will break out of the cycles of abuse that her foremothers were trapped in #asoiaf thoughts

[evergreenpineneedle]

i got my fake dating challenge and ohhhhh I’m so ready

#the plot basically wrote itself #top gun #top gun maverick

[goldenlandfiascos]

i don't think i've ever talked about it here before and haven't written a chapter for it yet, but in Survival au, Natsuhi would probably end up wearing some of Eva's clothes (at least at first), and we see Eva does dress more feminine off the island which is much more Natsuhi's style, so Natsuhi in this outfit.

also this one too, it's cute 🥺🥺

BUT ON THAT NOTE! It wasn't intentional when i first posted these on twitter talking about it, but i very quickly remembered and realized the kimono part of the outfit was originally supposed to be Jessica's gift to Krauss in Tsubasa, which means Survival au Natsuhi would unknowingly be getting to wear it. Extra sadness angst on my part, you're welcome

#umineko #umineko spoilers #eva ushiromiya #natsuhi ushiromiya #evanatsu #eva #natsuhi #krauss #jessica #since. you know. all of natsuhi's belongings were on the island #and i highly doubt they'd be running to the store right away to buy her new clothes #survival au writes itself (i wish it actually wrote itself) #also eva seems to like turtlenecks a lot. something to keep in mind. #natsuhi basically becomes eva's 'housewife' in the au #so she'd definitely be wearing that cute apron to cook her not-wife a nice warm meal she won't come home to in time and then they argue #tsubasa #manga #survival au #my posts

[blueberry-macaron]

who said the reverse love square would be better? Who the hell said lets have Adrien fall for Marinette during THAT moment, lets have Marinette fall for the guy that can't take a hint she doesn't like him despite the fact another timeline of the very dude gave her trauma, and just them being together is the end of the world in three different time lines while dad of the year is still the villain? Why is the audience in for this same people square when it got uncomfortable by the minute in season two going forward?

It's a mess and I hate it😭

Marinette is so, so deeply traumatized by what's been going on in her love life, I don't think she would ever allow herself to date again because everytime she does, something bad happens. The chat blanc timeline was the worst one for her. If I were her, I couldn't imagine falling in love with this guy (and if I did, I would bury those feelings deep down and never ever pursue him).

The writers wanted to make their relationship challenging but they went wayyyy overboard with what Marinette has to endure that I think giving up on her crush would be the best option for her. Her relationship with adrien consisted of making a fool of herself and be embarassed about it, her relationship with Chat was dealing with his temper tantrums, his codependence and watching how the world got destroyed. And now the boy who has turned white and destroyed the world is literally her only option and only then, her feelings suddenly changed out of nowhere because he suddenly put his game face on during akuma fights. As if the other temps haven't done that ever. How convincing.

And the statue scene... ugh.

Look, I too have written plot lines like this where one person didn't know the other one was there (bc they were hidden or disguised or smth) and they declared their feelings to the other person unknowingly and that's how they got together. WHEN I WAS 12. Back then I thought this shit's the most romantic thing ever, now I cringe at myself. The writers apparently have never grown out of this and it shows. And if that was the point where Adrien's feelings have changed... why was this never mentioned? And I don't mean hints that he has looked at her some way because this show is the master of tell don't show, meaning that I expected Adrien to have a moment to say anything about it, like "huh, Marinette kissed me... that wasn't bad actually" or "wow Marinette's such a good friend... and such a good kisser". I didn't get that vibe that he acted different before and after the staue scene at all. You can't tell me he had feelings this entire time, not show it and then expect me to buy it.

For the love square to fully work, it had to reversed (or completed, however you wanna call it). I understand why they went that route. But they're also ignoring a ton of problems without solving them and it just ruins the whole thing. Like, the developement is so over the place and unbelievable that if they hadn't put in the umbrella scene, which was the scene where everybody started shipping them, I think the love square wouldn't have been nearly as successful. Their developement made people walk away from it, and that's pretty telling of the writing skills here.

#ask #anon #ml salt #love square salt #writers salt #this shit basically wrote itself and they still messed it up somehow #that in itself is a special talent