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stevebabey · 29 days

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"Alright, here we go!" The bartender announces, leaning up to place the drinks on the bar.

"That's one whiskey, neat—" He says, sliding the lowball cocktail glass with amber liquid in front of Eddie.

"—And one Whammin' Slammin' Booty-Bangin' Pina Colada."

He places the extravagant cocktail in front of Steve. It's decorated to the nines with a straw, an umbrella, a piece of pineapple, and a little bit of tinsel on a toothpick. A whole party decoration in a drink.

"You guys have a good night." The bartender says warmly, already moving down the bar to tend to other customers.

Eddie stares down at the whiskey in the glass before him and pouts a little. Beside him and watching his boyfriend closely, Steve rolls his eyes.

"Oh, quit being dramatic," Steve says, sliding the cocktail across the bar so it's in front of Eddie, who had ordered it. He steals the glass of whiskey back at the same time.

"It happens every time."

"It happens most times."

"That isn't much better!" Eddie protests, even as he leans down and takes a long sip from the straw while they both get to their feet and leave the bar. Steve's hunting for a table they can snag, his eyes narrowed in focus. Eddie follows him blindly, his cocktail cupped in both hands.

"I'm serious, Steve! What is it about this adorable face—" He says, gesturing to himself, barely letting go of the straw to talk. It doesn't seem to faze him that Steve doesn't even glance back. "—Says I don't want to enjoy a Whammin' Bammin' Big Booty Colada?"

Steve comes to a stop, pausing his search for a moment to look back at Eddie. His expression seems unimpressed on the surface but Eddie can see his lips twitching up at the corners.

"We've had this conversation too many times, babe." He sighs halfheartedly and takes a quick sip of his own whiskey, eyes casting back out across the bar. "You have scary dog energy, you know this. You specifically dress like this on purpose."

Eddie picks up the pineapple wedged on the edge of his glass and bites into it, sending it down with another sip of his cocktail as Steve leads them further into the back of the bar. He finally spots a spare empty table.

"C'mon, I think I found one." Steve urges, one hand snaking back to make sure Eddie's following.

"Is it a crime to wish to not fall victim to stereotypes?" Eddie prattles on, following Steve duly by slipping his hand into Steve's outstretched one. His cocktail wobbles precariously as he takes another gulp.

"Like when that waitress gave me your awful black coffee! And you got my delicious delicacy that I paid extra hard-earned money for..."

i like to think that when steve and eddie go out, people always lean into their assumptions and are like hmm ok preppy boy with the polo? oh he gets the fruity cocktail! and eddie is always like >:( i don't want this expensive puddle of piss gimme the bonanza supreme cocktail pls. like excuse me i paid for that.

#steve's got expensive booze taste bcos he partied lots as a teen & he got into his dad's expensive stuff #and now it's all he likes #eddie doesn't drink loads cos he usually smokes instead so when he does drink he never wants to taste the alcohol #and he likes that they're pretty and come w fun things :)#steve also likes black coffee cos he was on that Sports Diet through hs #eddie packs his with sugar and creamer if he can #hehehe have this headcanon <3 from me to you #that i thought of rn #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie headcanon #heheheheh <3 #i also love drinks with the most insane names. like please tell me you know what i mean #ruby writes steddie

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zillychu · 3 months

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Consider this: ghosts are actually exactly what the Fentons think they are.

They're snapshots of a longing so strong, unfinished business so deep it reaches out beyond life. Lingers just a bit longer. And if it happens to meet a dense cloud of ectoplasm (invisible to the naked eye, but omnipresent even in the mortal realm), it coalesces. The ectoplasm fits into the shape of it. Which, when the desire is strong enough, it's got a rough idea of its self-image. This tends to mean a more humanoid figure, though it's more often warped in some way–a self-reflection, skewed by said desire. The warping varies on the dead soul’s perception of themselves, the intensity of their desire, how much time passed after death, and how much ectoplasm was present.

In short… no matter how “normal" a ghost looks or acts, it really, truly isn't human. It's animated ectoplasm with a single goal: an obsession. Nothing else. They're more akin to plants than animals, following a single drive with no emotion. They react to stimuli, recognize threats (including other ghosts), and can even imitate human speech and mannerisms to obtain fulfillment of their obsession.

Not “evil" by any stretch, but they're entirely driven by instinct. A tree doesn't pause to consider the rocks it breaks with its roots. A cordyceps doesn't torture its host for fun, or kill with malice. It just does. It follows code in its DNA to survive and multiply–And ghosts just follow the code in its ectoplasm to fulfill its obsession. The more powerful a ghost, the better it's able to overcome obstacles preventing this–whether through brute force, or manipulation. This power is always directly proportional to the amount of ectoplasm present at the time of formation, and how much time passed since death.

What then, does this mean for Danny? Danny, who's previously come to the conclusion that he's only half-ghost, which surely explains how he retained his mind? His independent thoughts and emotions?

What does this mean for Phantom, who experienced an entire world’s worth of ectoplasm condensed as a singularity, at the exact time of his death? Whose strength only grows and begins to exceed every limit they previously thought possible?

If a ghost was as strong as him… could it mimic a human perfectly? Down to a molecular level?

Could it, in its desire to fill an obsession… trick its own fake mind into thinking it was still human? Or half-ghost?

#Danny Phantom #zilly squeaks #it's the greyed out morality for me dude #on one hand it shows how dangerous ghosts are. how you can't reason with them. how they aren't *people*#and yet. you can still find ways to work with them. there's reason to show them mercy when possible #even if it's not really 'pain' it still cries out and bleeds when struck #i just love this kind of angle where there's a solid reason to find co-existence but also like #knowing full well these creatures are more or less. potentially deadly trees. do u feel me #when does sentience bloom from code?#what caused our ancestors to become sapient?#Danny getting Real Fucked Up about possibly being a full ghost who's just really good at pretending to be human #when really... does it even matter?#(for double the pain: add headcanon that ghosts feed off of human life for additional power)

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abstractfrog · 3 months

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little comic based on The Gloria Scott - part 2

#sherlock & co #sherlock and co #is anyone else a victim of the gloria scott part 2 because i have not been normal since it dropped.#this scene rly stuck with me. and i know other people feel the same.#also does anyone else think sherlock laughs on purpose?#remembering in an early ep when john says he 'wouldve prefered a laugh' when sherlock just says 'funny'.#not like its forced laughter. i think he just makes an effort to actually laugh when he thinks something is funny. ive overthought this #joel when i GET YOU.#anyway sorry for sherlockposting in 2024 #sherlock & co spoilers #patsart

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thefrsers · 2 months

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im unwell😭she really said Nash with her whole being😭

#911 #911 abc #911 cast #911castedit #s7 premiere party #angela bassett #angelabassettedit #gifs #mine #I JUST HAD TO OK I DNT MAKE THE RULES #HER SAYING NASH WITH A CAPITAL N IS MAKING ME GO INSANEEEEEEE #NO COS LIKE SHE PRLLY LURKS ON TWT AND PRLLY SAW US SAYING HOW IT SHOULD ATHENA NASH AND THIS HER TELLING US SHE SEEN THEM TWEETS ALSDJFLSD #BUT ALSO LOOK HOW GORGEOUS MOTHER IS

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stil-lindigo · 1 year

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it’s 10pm. do you know who you are?

#this piece is a twist on those old PSAs that used to play on American TV reminding parents to check up on their children #it’s 10pm #do you know where your children are?#I’m co-opting that phrase for this piece and also as a general title for a new comic project #it’s tonally gonna be really different from soliloquy down to three #which was my previous comic project centered around dark sapphic stories #10pm is gonna be really introspective which is kind of cathartic but also has the capacity to send me spiraling again if I’m being honest #so let’s see how this goes #digital art #stillindigo art #its 10pm #stillindigo comics

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yourlocalrandombisexual · 2 months

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does the multiverse exist within the different sherlock adaptions? bc i think sherlock and co sherlock would hit bbc sherlock up the backside of the head the first time he tried to say he was a sociopath and tell him “your not a sociopath your autistic you dick” and then solve the murder in like 20 seconds

#also he would cal bbc sherlock an old man who’s slowing down and bbc john would be very weary of sherlock and co john #but sherlock and co john would just be in awe #sherlock and co #don’t listen to me

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thethinkingcloth · 1 year

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obsessed with the way george visibly switches sides during the argument in e2

when he's on your side he's On Your Side

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #l&co #george karim #also every time i see that first shot my brain tells me george and lockwood are holding hands and i have to do a double take #every time

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charmac · 5 months

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I made this while drinking Four Walls Whiskey

#iasip #gang dynamics #i was gonna make this very differently #then i saw the doawk one (insp. by obviously) had 'bit' and it was too funny #so i built everything off charden bit #also ty anna for letting me use her ipad for the lines and arrows #cos otherwise this would have been ugly af

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yashley · 6 months

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"You should have seen those abs." / "I’m just saying, I appreciate her beauty."

#critical role #ygifs #imogen #beau #cr3 #echoes of the solstice live show #marisha #laura #call beau a lightning rod cos she keeps getting the super mega ultra lightning babes #jokes on any type of rivalry imogen would also take 1 look at yasha and get a nosebleed while yasha is flexing not 2 be scary but sexy..#imogen's type being milfs will never not be special 2 me.......

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stevebabey · 6 months

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this is pure stupid hell crack that took more time than it should’ve to finish BUT i’m ready 2 release it from my drafts <3 this is actually technically written partially w @corrodedcoughin in mind bcos i think u will mighty enjoy it! for cockney eddie!

It comes with the territory, the accents.

Drama kid or dungeon-master, either one could be credited with contributing heavily to his affinity for all of Eddie’s little voices.

There was the deep, low raspy one reserved for trolls in campaigns — and a nasally high one he used for goblins to pair. Wise wizards giving out crucial advice sometimes had a strong Scottish drawl to their words. And Dwarfs? Always English.

So, yeah, Eddie has a couple different accents in his different repertoire. Pulls them out as he needs — a regal tone when referring to Hawkin’s very own royalty or a buried Southern twang used when he’s in trouble with Wayne. The most common is a shoddy Cockney accent for when any conversation dips too far towards awkward or boring.

It's why it's not so surprising anymore when they just... slip out sometimes.

He's learned more now, when specifically not to do it (Mrs. Donnell had not found his plea for a re-sit, in a heavy Irish accent, endearing in the slightest). But with friends who know Eddie, they know the accents come along too.

Steve fucking loves them.

The first time one had taken over his voice, some New Yorker twang to carry a joke, Steve had laughed so hard he’d snorted. And god, had Eddie lit up at the noise— loved knowing that, deep down Steve Harrington had a delicious wonderful ugly laugh that he only showed to people he trusted.

Basically, it’s hardly news to Steve then, all of Eddie’s little voices.

But well, even Eddie didn’t expect… okay, the truth is he never expected to be in this situation at all.

It’s a Wednesday evening when it happens. Steve is over round the trailer like he is every Wednesday, keeping Eddie company while Wayne is out on the double night shift.

It originally had started out as ensuring wounds were checked and dressed properly — considering half of them had scaled up his back, where Eddie couldn’t reach — for the both of them. Then, when technically Eddie could manage the worst of his words, Steve was still coming around. Dustin’s insistence, he’d said.

Then it was… because Eddie asked Steve to come around, to stay a little longer.

So, Steve Harrington is in his kitchen and it’s a Wednesday ritual that they have together and that’s not even the weird part of the evening.

(And somehow, neither is the fact that Steve is, as of a few months ago, his boyfriend.)

Steve’s cooking. Something simmers low on the scarlet glowing hob, bubbling quietly and releasing aromas of spices that percolate into the Autumn evening air.

Eddie feels his stomach growl in its own twist of hunger as he follows his nose. With one hand still scrubbing a towel against his wet hair, he ambles down the hall, fresh out the shower, ready for love — be it the form of food or, he thinks giddily, kisses.

Steve’s not watching the food as Eddie enters, his eyes fixed somewhere across the room. There’s a crease between his eyebrows, an indication of his deep thought.

Eddie grins, approaching without any attempt of being sneaky, (Steve’s as good as comatose when he’s distracted as he’d found) and jabs his boyfriend’s calf with his toe.

“Thinking mighty hard there, Stevie. That’s dangerous.”

Steve jolts, snapping out of his thoughts. He straightens up automatically, then seems to recall the company he’s keeping, and relaxes back down.

He scowls affectionately at Eddie’s barefoot, still jabbing into his leg, and reaches out to flick it with his finger.

“Dickhead.”

Eddie’s faster. He dances away and laughs at the instinctual pout that forms on Steve’s lips.

“What ponders thy mind, hm?” Eddie drawls, a lilt of a Regency style accent in his voice. He sinks into one of the kitchen chairs and drops his task. The towel hangs over his neck, his damp curls resting against it.

Steve seems to jolt again at that, his shoulders rising for a moment. He spins, picking up the wooden spoon beside the stove to swirl the contents of their dinner around. Eddie admires him, broad shoulders and long back, ripe for his taking. Silently, he sighs dreamily on the inside.

“Just… what movie we’re gonna watch tonight.” Steve says unconvincingly. “I’m not doing another re-watch of the Fly.” He adds lamely, an attempt at his usual bitch.

Eddie lets him have it. With one final squeeze of the towel, trying to wring out all the droplets in his hair, Eddie abandons it on the chair as he stands. He waltzes forward, into Steve’s space, and hooks his chin over the other's shoulder.

“You know, that’s what you said last time.”

Steve side-eyes him, his eyes narrowing into a minuscule glare; bitch personified. Eddie grins. Then bats his eyelashes.

It makes Steve laugh, shrugging Eddie’s weight off politely as he gives their dinner another stir. There’s still this tenseness to his frame. Though, maybe it's one Eddie can only notice because he’s paying such close attention.

“Alrightttttt,” He pretends to relent dramatically, his hands coming up to give Steve’s shoulders a quick squeeze. “I’ll let you pick the movie tonight.”

He drops his hands back to his sides, smarmy grin already plastered on as Steve turns to face him, the wooden spoon placed down on the bench.

“Oh, you’ll let me, will you?” He gives this incredulous look, even if there is this playfulness toying at the corners at his lips.

“Uh huh,” Eddie affirms with a severe nod, then begins counting on his fingers as he lists off. “No badgering, wailing, complaining, of any sorts I—“

Suddenly, Steve’s reaching out, his deft hands reaching out to snag the waistband of Eddie’s pyjama pants. It supposed to be a smooth move he’s used countless times before; fingers looped through belt loops to pull a girl in for a kiss. It usually works like a charm.

Except, there’s no belt loops— and when Steve tucks his fingers beneath the waistband and tugs him forward, Eddie shrieks.

“Fucking christ, Steve!” He bats Steve’s hands back without thinking. Steve holds them up defensively.

“Sorry! I was just—”

“What are you doing sticking your hands in my pants?!”

“It was a move!” Steve insists, voice a little whiney. “God, you’re dramatic- I was trying to pull you closer, numb-nuts.”

“Oooh,” Eddie switches up in an instant, hands shooting out to grab Steve’s own. He pulls them forward and settles them on his own waist, shuffling in closer like he hadn’t just shrieked a minute earlier. “Continue.”

Steve chuckles, delight peeking through on his face. His hands, large and slender, curl around the skin of Eddie’s waist and Christ, he’s still not used to that. Eddie’s too focused on repressing his shiver to see the shadow of nervousness cross Steve’s face.

“I was actually thinkin’ about,” Steve starts lowly, eyes skirting off Eddie’s face, over his shoulder. His fingers tighten their grip. “How—”

He sucks in a breath, like drawing in courage, and meets Eddie’s gaze. “About how much I love you.”

There’s the smallest tremble to his voice, giving away the immense emotion behind the words.

And here’s the situation that Eddie never expected to be in, ever. His breath catches, his eyes widen — his heartstrings tangle and knot themselves as he soaks in Steve’s admittance. Love, love, love — he loves me.

His lips part, a raspy noise escaping as he tries to compute, tries to think of anything to say because the longer he stays silent, the more crushed Steve’s expression becomes. And then—

“Well, I luv ya too.”

The words fall out, thick in that godawful Cockney accent.

Steve's face doesn't change but Eddie's does, contorting in an amalgamation of pure cringe and panic as embarrassment crawls beneath his skin. He slaps his hand over his own mouth as if it can take back his awful reply to being told he's loved by Steve.

"I—" He starts, speaking through his fingers, except it still comes out in a funny accent. Eddie squeaks, his grip over his mouth tightening, brown eyes wide in his panic. Oh God, never in stupid silly life has his accents come back to bite him in the ass so magnificently.

"I'm so sorry," Eddie whispers-yells in his regular voice, finally dragging his hands off his face sluggishly. "Jesus H Christ, I didn't— that wasn't making fun of you, I— oh god, you know that happens when I'm nervous sometimes. Shit. Shit, I'm so sorry, Steve."

Steve hasn't moved, his hands still resting on the small of Eddie's waist. His expression is guarded, nothing betrayed. His dark eyes scan across Eddie's face and just before he speaks, the smallest glimmer of amusement glitters across his face.

"Well," Steve begins, heaving a faux large sigh. His hands squeeze comfortingly at Eddie's waist again. Eddie who is still frozen, still cursing himself internally, still echoing around the apparently true fact that Steve loves him— well, maybe not anymore with how awfully Eddie responded.

And then Steve opens his mouth and the most appalling attempt at some accent comes out. It makes his words all garbled and Steve's pink in the face, obviously embarrassed but trying to commit to some shoddy Scottish when he says, "Aye, that's al'right."

Eddie stares at him. Steve stares back.

The moment of silence is broken as laughter seizes him, a guffaw bursting from his lips and holy fuck, Eddie loves him so much. Steve laughs too, the two of them relaxing and sinking into one another. Eddie's hands, previously fluttering and unsure, find their natural place curled in underneath Steve's jaw and when he leans in, he's fighting off his laughter. His grin is unbearably wide, cheeks aching.

Steve's got this shine in his eye, his hands sliding further around to pull Eddie in closer, his pink lips quirked in delight. Eddie practically purrs, so close to kissing him but not quite closing the gap.

"Yep," He says, eyes bright as they bounce over Steve's face to drink in his boyfriend's love-soaked expression. He loves him. Steve loves him. Eddie sounds as lovesick as he feels when he whispers, "It's decided. I think you're it for me, Stevie-baby."

He presses forward, lets his mouth find their home in the curve of Steve's lips. It's warm like nothing he's ever felt before, softened by their gooey-grins of love. It's an in love kiss.

"Even if you're terrible at accents." He murmurs against Steve's mouth.

"Shut up."

Steve hisses, but he’s still grinning. The dinner bubbles behind them, still cooking away behind them. "Like I'm ever going to let you live that down."

Eddie finds he doesn't really mind all that much — God forbid his boyfriend ever remind him they're in love.

"Shut up," He still says, then sticks out his tongue, like he's ten years old. "You love me."

"I do." Steve admits easily, his fingertips dancing along the small of Eddie's back. Eddie has to tuck his bottom lip behind his teeth to restrain his wild grin.

"And I love you." He says, properly this time, jabbing his finger into Steve's chest — so there's no absolutely mistaking it.

#watch me edit this over the next couple of days…..#cos it’s like a first draft #😚✌️#it’s ok i just wanna post something before i go back offline for a bit while i do finals + get a JOB #ruby writes steddie #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie crack fic #it honestly it but also isn’t lol #steddie fluff #[shrugs] enjoy i guess

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