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ninjasmudge · 8 months
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speedrun
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versions w/out text also.
realised afterwards i couldve just used the canon backgrounds instead of redoing everything oopsie
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cherrysandcats · 13 days
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girl in red 👍
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ghoulisheous · 1 year
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Little baby man king bastard thing. I love this little eldritch sprite
[... HE'S COMING...
... HE'S COMING...!
KNEEL BEFORE THE ALL POWERFUL--
...um........]
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comfymoth · 1 year
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fuck it. what if they were doggies
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fuckalicent · 7 months
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thinking about how rhaenys and corlys presenting laena for viserys to marry served only to soothe viserys’ conscience and convince him that marrying alicent was somehow morally passable. it allowed him to convince himself he was doing the better thing by marrying alicent. also thinking about how when he mentioned to alicent that his council wanted him to marry laena, he watched the hope flitting across her features, watched the relief in her posture thinking she was free, thinking she’d escaped his clutches. only for him to announce at the council meeting after that he wants to marry her, that he will marry her. the way she fiddles with her fingers while shaking her head almost imperceptibly at rhaenyra, trying to convince her that she did not want this, despite how it may seem. her having to bear almost everyone in that room’s distaste at viserys’ selfish decision.
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gunnslaughter · 3 months
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Chief make a pastry beast like full free reign on sourcing for inspo on it
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I just enjoy being normal, so much
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afewproblems · 8 months
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In My Heart is a Memory (And There You'll Always Be) Part Two
Part One
Steve spends his week in the hospital on oxygen and fighting pneumonia from his bed. A harsh wheezing sound has developed whenever he pushes too hard but Doctor Sattler isn't nearly as concerned as Steve the first time he hears it.
"It shouldn't worsen over time, but if you feel that the wheezing is becoming more frequent or that feeling of an elephant sitting on your chest comes back, you will need to use your new inhaler, today's the perfect day to learn how it works," Doctor Sattler told him with an air of nonchalance that did not match the news.
Two and two made four, the sky was blue, and Steve Harrington would need medication for the rest of his life.
Most of the time Steve sleeps fitfully, dreaming of cold grey water and kind brown eyes, but on the days he has more energy Steve walks around the ward with Claudia in between practising blowing into something called a spirometer. 
She tells him it's important to test his level of lung function and how he's improving, it should also help to reduce the wheezing sound when Steve is simply resting. He even gets one to take home with him. 
Steve listens as Claudia talks about her own son, he's eight years old and so curious about the world. It's obvious she loves him dearly.
Steve wonders if his own mother ever talks about him like that.
His mother checks in with him twice during the week. His dad has already left for his most recent work trip and Diane is planning to leave as well, at least until Sunday when Steve is expected to be discharged. 
“I’ll be gone for five days, but you’ll be here anyway, and they are taking good care of you aren’t they?” she asks, her voice uncharacteristically soft for once as she takes his cheek in her cold hand. 
Diane’s fingers brush the oxygen hosing around his cheek, Claudia had called it something weird --a canny-something-or-other. 
Diane lets go abruptly as if burned; her nose wrinkling slightly as she rubs her fingers against the palm of her hand. In one fluid motion, she stands up from her seat at the side of his bed and smooths down the blankets as she does so. 
Diane meets his gaze once, her pale blue eyes almost seem to look past him, before she hikes her handbag further up her arm.
“I’m leaving the number of the hotel with your Nurse Henry, and you’ll be home before you know it,” she nods with a forced smile and turns on her heel to slip out the door of his room before Steve can even correct her.
He hopes Claudia did get the number, that there isn’t some strange Nurse Henry with more access to his mother than even Steve is allowed. 
A small part of himself hopes that Eddie will come visit him.
It’s not likely, Eddie had seemed excited initially about showing him his Dungeons and Dragons book but how would he have any idea Steve would still be here.
That doesn't stop Steve from picturing Eddie yelling to his uncle as he bounds down the hallway, ‘Come on old man, Steve’s room’s gotta be here somewhere!’
But Eddie never materialises down the hall, armed with his players book or tales of dragons and knights.
Steve takes it in stride as much as he can.
The days blend together the longer he stays, but it isn't as though Steve has no one to talk to.
He asks Claudia more about her son and listens to the jokes the orderlies tell him when they come by with meals. Even Doctor Sattler stops by to check the machines by his bed and to watch him blow into the Spirometer.
It’s fine. 
Claudia gives him a long hug the day he's discharged. Steve isn't sure she's supposed to by the exasperated look Doctor Sattler gives her, but he says nothing and busies himself with writing something out on a small notepad.
"You be careful sweetheart, use your spirometer to practice and keep your inhaler on you at all times".
She sweeps his hair away from his face and squeezes his shoulder briefly before giving him the barest of pushes towards his mother who stands by the door.
Doctor Sattler hands Diane the two papers he's written out, "you'll have to fill these prescriptions, he'll need both of them before you head home". 
Diane nods and breathes out a clipped thank you before ushering Steve to the doors, he tries to turn to wave only for his mother to grip his shoulder firmly and walk him out.
He catches what he thinks may be concern in Claudia's eyes before the automatic doors close behind them and the familiar jingle of his mothers keys to the maroon beemer fills the air.
"We'll stop at Mevalds, you can wait in the car," Diane says as she opens the driver's side door and gets in. Steve hurriedly opens his own door as the engine starts, a small part of him wonders if she would leave him if he took any longer.
He closes the passenger door behind him, it's heavier than he remembers and a harsh wheeze fills the car as Steve breathes in slowly to halt the stuttering of his chest. 
He buckles in and looks up to find his mother watching him carefully. 
"Perhaps we should wait another week for you to go back to school," she hums, it's a voice she uses when thinking aloud but every instance of it usually happens when that thinking is about Steve.
"Why?" He asks as they pull onto the main road.
"You're making that awful noise," Diane says simply, "we should wait for it to stop, it will be distracting to your classmates".
A deep ache that has nothing to do with his lungs builds in his chest. He hadn't thought the sound was that noticeable. 
None of the other nurses or orderlies seemed to care about the new noise he made, or if they did they never said anything. Steve had been the one to ask about it,  concerned that he was the only one hearing it.
"Doctor Sattler said it should get better, but it won't go away," Steve argues with narrowed eyes, he crosses his arms over his chest and looks away towards the passenger window.
He hears Diane sigh as she signals to pull into the parking lot of Mevalds.
She turns off the engine and reaches into the back seat for her purse, leaning her hand against Steve's seat for balance.
Diane stops with her hand on the door handle, pausing as she turns to face him fully.
"I'm just looking out for you," Diane says softly, "the other children will notice eventually and the world isn't kind to people who are different Steven".
She gets out of the car, letting the words hang in the air. He watches her go into the store, already knowing he's lost. 
***
Steve's teachers welcome him back with little to no fanfare, Ms. Cuttler, the history teacher, even goes so far as to reprimand him for missing two whole weeks in front of the class. 
Steve doesn't need detention for 'mouthing off' on his first day back, no matter how unfair she's being. He manages to take his seat without speaking; he can't quite hide the angry red flush staining his cheeks though. 
Lunch is what Steve is looking forward to, he just has to make it to lunch, he can keep his head down until then.
Steve's last morning class is science. 
It's not his favourite class, but Mr. Clarke at least tries to keep it interesting for them, and he's always nice. Giving extensions on homework, half marks on tests rather than zeros with little comments in blue ink saying, 'I see where you were going with this, you almost got it!'
As soon as the bell rings, Steve grabs his backpack and books, uncaring of the homework instructions Mr. Clarke tries to yell over the clamouring kids and the last few notes of the bell.
"Oh Steve, you gotta sec?"
It takes every fibre of Steve's being not to just bolt from the room with the rest of the class, pretend he didn't hear.
It's your lungs that are screwed up now, not your ears, he thinks bitterly as he turns towards the front of the room where Mr. Clarke stands with a stack of xeroxed paper.
"Here's the homework you missed, if you can have it done for next week I think that'll keep you on track," he says with a smile that quirks his moustache.
Steve gives him a brief smile as he takes the stack of papers, "thanks, yeah I'll have it done by then," he tries for a grin, wincing at the raised eyebrow Mr. Clark gives him. 
They both know it will be late. 
Steve turns to leave again, with a forced half smile, but stops as Mr. Clarke clears his throat.
"They don't give us a lot of information about absences," he gives Steve a long look, "so all I'm going to say is if you want to chat, about anything, even if it's just homework, my door is open". 
Steve nods as Mr. Clarke gives him a kind half smile, patient like the ones Dr. Sattler or Claudia would give him after explaining how something worked. 
It's not something most adults put a lot of effort into, especially for Steve, writing him off if he doesn't understand something the first time it's explained. 
It's certainly not something his parents do for him.
"Sure Mr. Clarke," Steve mumbles as he tucks the papers into the textbook in his arms.
His teacher nods once and clears his throat awkwardly, gesturing towards the door, "Alright, you better get going," Mr Clarke says, "it's pizza day and I guarantee you the pepperoni is pretty much done at this point".
Steve snorts and takes a step back, "later Mr. Clarke," he calls over his shoulder as he makes his way past the empty desks and into the hallway, letting himself be guided by the stream of kids heading towards the cafeteria.
With the Hawkins Middle and High Schools being the only two secondary schools in the county, the buildings were naturally massive to accommodate all of the children and teens they housed on any given day during the school year.
The cafeteria was no exception.
Finding somewhere to sit was almost always impossible if you ran late to lunch, most students would give up trying to find a table and would end up settling by their lockers or sitting outside in the warmer months, but Steve was on a mission this time.
He looks around the busy room with his lunch tray, head on a swivel as he searches for a mop of curly brown hair. Eddie said he could sit at his table but he hadn't mentioned which one that was.
Steve walks along the wall, eyes scanning the tables, he begins to wonder if he had the wrong lunch period after all.
"I'm telling you, a beholder is the worst thing you could run into in a Dungeon, hands down--" 
Steve perks up at the voice, fairly certain he knows who it belongs to.
The relief is palpable as he continues forward, following the voice. A small part of Steve had begun to wonder if Eddie even went to his school, or if his muddled water logged brain had dreamed that up entirely. 
He finally spots Eddie at a table against the far back wall and has to stop himself from cheering as he makes a beeline for them, albeit more slowly than he would prefer. He's still getting winded easily and doesn't want to have to break out the inhaler the doctor gave him just yet.
There are two other boy's that Eddie is talking animatedly to, his hands gesturing wildly with a broad grin on his face.
Eddie spots him mid sentence and the effect is instant, his face lights up as he smiles and starts to wave before halting abruptly, a strange look passing over his face. 
"Hey!" Steve smiles, slightly uncertain now that Eddie's face has fallen into something unreadable. The other two boys at the table have turned to face him, their eyes scanning Steve up and down. 
The kid sitting closest to Steve, a black boy with braces and a t-shirt with something called Queen on the chest, Steve feels a spark of recognition at the name and makes a note to ask him about it later. He gives Steve a small polite smile which makes him feel slightly less nervous.
The other boy sitting closest to Eddie eyes Steve somewhat warily, he's wearing a Hawkins Middle school shirt, thick glasses with tape around the frame, and wavy brown hair that isn't as long as Eddie's but longer than Steve's mother would ever allow.
They all stare at Steve for what feels like an eternity before he clears his throat awkwardly.
"Um, my name is Steve--" he starts to say, reaching out a hand to the closest boy before Eddie stands up from the table.
"Where were you?" Eddie says, uncaring of the sudden climb in volume or the heads that turn their way. 
Steve ignores the faces turned their way and takes another step forward towards the table, a small nervous laugh bubbles up as he moves, “I was sick, remember?"
Eddie frowns, his eyes dart from Steve to the other boy directly in front of him, closest to where Steve is standing.
"I wanted to show you my book two weeks ago," Eddie folds his arms over his chest now, frowning slightly, "Ms. Allen confiscated it," he mutters darkly.
Steve winces at the tone and brings his arms around himself, taking a step back. A small part of him curses his decision to stay home another week to let his breathing find some semblance of normal.
The teen closest to Steve rolls his eyes, "if it wasn't the handbook, it woulda been something else Ed, you know Allen's been looking for a reason to punish us since you told her that you got more out of Gary Gygax than anything Mark Twain ever wrote --plus there's a literal demon on the cover,” he says with a wry grin. 
"I'm Jeff," he says with a wave before pointing to the other kid at the table, "that's Bobby, and it seems like you already know Eddie?"
Steve gives Jeff a small, thankful, smile and takes a step closer, "yeah, it's a bit of a long story--"
"A heroic tale of rescue more like!" Eddie cuts in, the familiar energy fills Steve with relief as he launches into the story.
Jeff rolls his eyes again and shoots Steve an exasperated look before patting the bench next to him, an official invitation.
Steve tries to play off the wide grin that threatens to take over his face and takes a seat next to Jeff, setting down his lunch tray with a clatter.
"So,” Eddie sits up slightly, bringing his leg up onto the table bench to curl up underneath himself, “Uncle Wayne and I were fishing, right?"
"Fishing?" Bobby cuts in with a laugh, wrinkling his nose as he looks Eddie up and down, "you?"
"Yeah fishing, not all of us can just go to the grocery store whenever we want," Eddie huffs impatiently as his ears begin to redden, he waves his hands, "anyway".
"Instead of a trout we managed to catch something a little stranger,” he grins at Steve, “he was all caught up in some old fishing line or something and--hey, you never told us why you were out on the lake by yourself?”
Three sets of eyes turn to stare for a beat though Bobby loses interest fairly quickly, averting his eyes back to the open milk carton on his own orange lunch tray. 
Steve clears his throat, unsure just how to explain his thought process that morning. 
He just had to get out of the house, he couldn’t sit there any longer waiting for his dad to finally leave--
“Well?” Eddie prompts again, the smallest of frowns pulls at his expression before Jeff snorts.
"This is not very heroic so far man, where are the X-Men, the laser battles, come on dude," Jeff grins as Eddie sputters and launches into a rant about comic books that Bobby seems to perk up at, his attention switching from the lunch tray to Eddie.
Steve breathes out a sigh of relief as the attention moves away from him.
"You don't need lasers or special powers for hero stories, Tolkien didn't need idiots in spandex, he just needed a Hobbit and a ring and made a fucking masterpiece," Eddie 
"Are you seriously comparing yourself to Tolkien right now?" Jeff asks with a knowing smirk, it grows wider as Bobby laughs.
"Who's Tolkien?" Steve says, it's not a name he's ever heard before, though they must be some kind of storyteller. Was there a new book assigned while Steve was away recovering?
Eddie blanches for a second in surprise before his face lights up, he waves his hands at the chorus of groans from both Jeff and Bobby and cackles, "Stevie, Stevie, Stevie, we have so much to teach you!"
***
As the school year comes to a close, Steve finds himself looking forward to the summer for the first time in his life.  
Summer for Steve is normally lonely.
He spends his time looking for ways to avoid his house, counting down the days when he can go back to school. Even sitting through class or trying out for the intramural leagues is better than the monotony of summer.
At least during school he had people to talk to. 
But this summer is different. 
Steve, Jeff, Eddie, and Bobby get on like a house of fire, where one of the boys is, the other three are never far behind. 
They teach Steve about Dungeons and Dragons, Tolkien and the one ring --the book certainly reads like some of the books they had assigned in class, but Eddie and Jeff looked so excited the day Steve brought it home from the library, he couldn’t disappoint them.
In turn, Steve introduces the other boys to the pool, inviting the three of them to the Harrington house on a scorching June day.
“No way,” Bobby whispers as they reach the driveway, Jeff’s mouth drops into a little ‘O’ shape while Eddie’s eyes widen in surprise before his expression shutters. 
“You’re kidding right?” Jeff asks with a laugh in his voice, “seriously, where’s your moat man?”
Steve reaches out to push Jeff’s shoulder as Bobby laughs, “shut up, it's not that bad--”
“No? Are you going to bring out a unicorn next? What else are you hiding in there?” Bobby scoffs as he takes a hesitant steps towards the edge of the driveway, as though worried the ground would fall out from underneath him at any moment. 
“Oh just wait,” Steve says, biting his lip to keep his grin in check, it falters slightly at the pinched expression on Eddie’s face, the way his eyes flick from the house to Steve, before eventually landing on their feet.
Steve opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong but he’s forced to whirl around to keep his footing as Bobby drags him up the drive, “Steve, if you do actually have a horse in there, I will still be very impressed”.
While it may not be a unicorn, Steve knows he has one other ace up his sleeve as he presents them with the crown jewel of the Harrington house, the Atari.
“Oh my god!” Bobby crows as he jumps off the last step of the basement and races towards the television. 
“You have one of these!” he hisses incredulously, snatching the attached joystick from its resting place on the top, Steve winces as the cord pulls slightly from Bobby’s exuberance. 
“I mean, it’s my dads, not mine,” Steve shrugs, he puts his hands in his jeans pockets and turns back to Jeff and Eddie, “but we can play it, he’s not home”.
Diane argues the day his father brings the machine home. 
It must stay in the basement, out of sight, determining that something so hideous has no place in their well decorated living room. 
Ignoring the fact that the only television in the house was in the basement, Diane insists on keeping the rest of the house as pristine as Good Housekeeping has taught her. 
Richard simply rolls his eyes at his wife, ‘It’s not like it matters Diane, one of the investors thinks he’s being cute, like any son of mine would waste his time with one of these, right Steven?’
Steve nods, content to keep his head down, focused on his homework, not to make waves.
‘Course dad, computer games are for losers,’ the words come easily, he’s heard them before.  He flinches as a heavy hand comes down on his shoulder and squeezes lightly.
‘God damn right’.
‘Why are we even keeping it then?’ Diane asks sharply, her tone cool as she follows him down the stairs. 
Steve trails after them to the landing; he can still hear from the wary distance he keeps while his parents continue to talk. 
"Allan and the rest of the partners are coming in two weeks for drinks, and I’m not letting that prick get one over on me”.
Diane is quiet for a beat.
Steve tilts his ear to listen intently. He knows that silence. It's something his mother usually employs while calculating all options before speaking carefully.
‘Fine, I suppose the dust will collect best down here,” Steve can almost hear the sneer that pulls at his mothers mouth as she speaks. 
‘Atta girl,’ Richard  says quietly, almost fondly. 
Jeff raises an eyebrow as he comes to stand beside Steve, “you can’t play it if your dad’s home?” 
Steve falters for a second, scrambling for something to say.
Bobby scoffs by the television, still inspecting the machine, "you know how much one of these things costs? If we had one, my dad would flip if I so much as looked at it”.
Steve settles for shrugging with a mild smile, infinitely grateful for Bobby's ability to blurt out the first thing he thinks in any given situation.
If Jeff questions it, he doesn't say anything, and instead moves to join Bobby where he crouched on the floor.
Steve turns back to find where Eddie went only to find him frozen on the last stair still.
His eyes seem to trace over the room, an unreadable expression on his face, it contorts into something sour before smoothing as his gaze eventually lands on Steve. 
"Didn't know we pulled a rich kid outta the lake," Eddie says after a beat, finally walking further into the room, his arms crossed tightly over his stomach. 
"I guess," Steve says weakly as Eddie nods and moves towards where Jeff is kneeling beside Bobby with one of the game cartridges in his hands.
A spark of annoyance crackles through Steve, licking the inside of his ribcage. If Eddie isn’t interested in playing, he just has to say so, they can do something else - work on their character sheets, go outside. The other day Eddie showed them all the best spot by the quarry for throwing rocks so that the sound seemed to echo for miles as it hit the water. They could easily go, right now. 
They aren’t supposed to be touching this anyway, it’s not like it’s a big deal. It’s not. 
Steve knows the others don’t know how much trouble he could get into for this, the risk he’s taking for even showing it to them, for having kids over unsupervised, uninvited. 
 "Well, does that thing play Asteroids or what?" Eddie asks abruptly, interrupting Steve’s train of thought. 
He nods, quietly tamping down the last fleeting sense of irritation and walks over to the shelf where the rest of the games were dumped, wincing at the impressed chorus of whoops that Jeff and Bobby let out.
It only serves to accentuate the brooding silence that has followed Eddie all morning, since they walked over the threshold of Steve’s front door.
Jeff and Bobby take turns playing the rest of the afternoon. Steve defers to them, content to simply watch his friends try out the games. They bicker back and forth, making noises at key moments to try and break each other's concentration, Steve laughs brightly as Bobby manages to make Jeff crash for the fourth time in a row by simply imitating Rod Stewart.
“If you want my body and you think I'm sexy, come on, sugar, tell me so!” Bobby croons, making his voice older and raspy as he leans close enough for Jeff to twist his head away.
“Get outta here Bobby-- oh you sonovabitch!”
Bobby cheers, lifting his clasped hands above his head, “and the crowd goes wild, what do ya say, Jeff, best two out of three?”
Jeff flops backwards onto the carpet, pretending to catch an invisible dagger to the chest, “mark my words, if you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you could possibly imagine!”
He rolls his head to the side and reaches out, pointing towards Steve with a cry, “Avenge me!” 
Steve laughs long and loud as Jeff croaks and groans and finally sticks his tongue out of the side of his mouth with a low hissing sigh as he finally pretends to die on the carpet of Steve’s basement. 
“So, what say you, Steve?” Bobby croaks as he lifts one hand to cover his mouth, and the other to hold out the abandoned joystick as he breathes out heavily, “do you dare take up the saber?”
Steve has no clue what they’re doing, a joke from something he’s sure, but he schools his face into something serious, and takes the joystick with a grave nod.
“For Jeff!” Steve cries as the digital melody fills the air.
Finally, Steve lets himself bask in the warmth and friendship that has surrounded him for the last few months, the normal chill of the Harrington home finally absent as Bobby begins to cheer while also doing his damndest to distract Steve. 
Jeff finally sits up with another hiss, “I LIVE, to see Steve beat your sorry ass Bobby!” 
He claps his hand on Steve's shoulder with a grin, “you got this!” 
It isn’t until a throat clears behind them that the three boys notice Eddie hasn’t said a word for the last ten minutes. 
He’s standing now, backpack slung over his shoulder --when did he go upstairs?
“It’s late,” Eddie mumbles quietly, “Wayne will want me home for supper soon”.
The words seem to break the spell that has fallen over the other two boys and they both stand as if summoned from their seats on the floor. 
Steve can only sit and watch as Jeff and Bobby move towards Eddie, albeit reluctantly. 
Jeff stretches out, raising his arms above his head, “yeah, I should probably go too,” he groans out as he drops his arms back at his sides. 
“Thanks for the game dude,” Bobby says with a shrug, though he looks decidedly more annoyed at the interruption than Jeff, “beats trying to escape the heat in the creek anyway”.
Jeff rolls his eyes, “It also beats shelling out quarters at the arcade on 4th Bobby, this was seriously really cool man”.
Steve grins at the pair of them before turning towards Eddie who glares at the floor in silence until Jeff elbows him. 
Eddie breathes out loudly through his nose, “yeah it was cool, but next time we should go over your characters a bit more, especially if you guys are going to survive the next encounter I designed”.
Bobby scoffs as he grabs his own messenger bag from the bottom of the stairs, “well I’m not going back to the library, Mrs. Depencier gives me the creeps”.
“The library is the only place with enough space,” Eddie argues as he turns and makes his way up the stairs.
Steve feels the words lift him up, this is his chance, he takes a step towards the other teens, “I could host?” 
Jeff and Bobby stop, turning back towards Steve with excitement in their gazes. Jeff seems to hesitate though, turning back to back to Eddie whose face is hidden by the edge of the staircase, Steve can only make out the bottom on his legs from where he’s standing.
He walks forward to the bottom of the staircase and stops short of taking the first step, “my parents aren’t home for the next four weeks so I can have you guys over, no problem”.
Bobby punches his fists into the air, "Yes! Oh my god, huge house, no parents?" Bobby jumps down the last two stairs again and nearly tackles Steve, "this is perfect!"
Perfect, is…certainly a word for it, not necessarily the one Steve would use, but Bobby wasn't here at night. 
Not when the glow of the pool would cast eerie shadows along the treeline that surrounded the Harrington backyard. Steve never felt comfortable sitting outside by himself once the sun went down, even now in middle school. 
All it took was one snapped branch in the dark or one flicker of shining eyes for him to race back into the kitchen, slamming the sliding door shut behind him.
The locked door never really feeling like enough by himself. 
"Four weeks?" Eddie says quietly as he takes a step down, his expression seems pained though Steve can't imagine why.
"I know it's not that long," Steve shrugs, "but we could do it in an afternoon right?"
Jeff's eyebrows rise, cutting shallow creases across his forehead, he and Eddie look at one another, seemingly having some kind of silent conversation before they both turn back to Steve at the same time.
"I need three days to finish it up, but that means we can meet in between to finish your characters," Eddie offers, the words slowly break the strange sudden quiet that has fallen over the basement. 
"Tomorrow?" Steve asks tentatively, 
"I'll be here, and hey if they don't come," Bobby says with a wry grin as he elbows Steve, "then I'll kick your ass at Asteroids!"
"We'll be here jackass," Jeff scoffs as Eddie nods silently.
He has a strange look on his face that Steve can't quite place, but at least he doesn't look annoyed anymore.
"Tomorrow then," Eddie confirms, grinning as Bobby blurts out a loud, 'hell yeah' as Jeff rolls his eyes once more.
The boys do eventually make their way upstairs, though at a snail's pace as the strange tension from earlier fades away. 
Steve walks them all to the door and watches as they make their way down the long drive, taking turns waving as their voices fade into the distance.
Steve swallows hard as he closes the front door, trying not to think too hard about how many hours until he'll hear his friends voices again.
Permanent Tag List: @eriquin @luvinthefreaks @cinnamon-mushroomabomination
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sarasade · 10 months
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"Oh, humiliate like THAT!” "I'm in."
NSFW version on Twitter
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too-antigonish · 7 days
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Lovely sad men being romantic...
This started out as a post about Win for Thursday Thursday--but I got sidetracked by this absolutely perfect scene between Thursday and Bright from Degüello.
Both men are on the verge of losing their wives. They can't quite bring themselves *talk* to each other about it. They can, however--while hiding in the dim light of the basement and standing in front of the vending machine for cover--work up the courage to perform side-by-side monologues:
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Bright: The first time I saw her, she was 19. I was...not much more. The governor’s house. Garden party. Thursday: Me and Win, it was the Palais. Bright: Father was something in the Colonial Service. Thursday: Win’s old man worked the docks. Limehouse Basin. Thought I might not be too welcome, being a young copper, but he was a straight guy...
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Bright: Sky was pink and pearl, band playing... Thursday: Geraldo, I think it was for us... Bright: The crowd parted for the briefest moment, and... Thursday: ...there she was, pretty as a picture.
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Bright: Surrounded by all these dashing types, desperate to light her cigarette. Next thing I’d crossed the lawn. I was standing beside her. “Have you come to save me?” She said. “Yes,” I said, “I rather think I have.” And now I can’t.
The writing is beautiful and the actors' performances are so nuanced and agile--a perfect two-hander.
If you want to check it out it's in S6E6: Degüello starting at 52m46s in the Amz streaming version.
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omnificent-orion · 1 year
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Even if you knew to look, you couldn’t spot the warning signs.
Commission Me | Support My Work
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is-the-owl-video-cute · 7 months
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https://www.tumblr.com/uncharismatic-fauna/721434401136902144/nerdloves-uncharismatic-fauna?source=share
The tuatara drama. Where it (sorta) began I guess.
Oh that’s incredibly passive aggressive and condescending lol.
Thanks I do not feel bad for clowning on this person now.
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batwynn · 3 months
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I’ve gotten a few insistent anons lately demanding I state my thoughts and opinions on the current and past history of Palestine on this blog. (You can tell they don’t follow my more personal side blog, I guess.) On the one hand, I do understand people wanting to know that someone they follow has similar opinions on severely important things like this. But on the other hand, most of the asks have that certain… tone that gives me the feeling that they are more interested in ‘catching’ me in something, than any actual concern over my politics or the actual people involved. They’re worded in a way that is very immature—in a way that leaves very little room for anything other than the exact statements parroted back to them that they expect. Which I can’t do. One, because I can’t read their minds to say exactly what they want me to say. Two, because I’m an entire person with a whole life that they know nothing about—something that comes with all the flaws of being a human person with my own history and education based on where I lived and who I knew. And three, because I don’t want to parrot someone else’s words to appease a random person I don’t know. And the thing is, I’ve had this conversation already with nearly everyone in my life. I’ve gone over it at least a dozen times with friends and family from all walks of life. Some conversations were harder than others. All of them were hard. Partially because what is happening is hard to talk about, and partially because I don’t really know what to say. What do I say that changes anything? What do I say that isn’t speaking over someone who is directly affected? What do I say that won’t be misinterpreted by someone willingly misinterpreting/looking for a fight? What can I say that doesn’t hurt anyone at all? Because someone out there will always be hurt, no matter how carefully I try to word things. And I have tried. I’ve written this post 80+ times for months now. I’ve read other’s words and found parts that spoke to me and for me very well, but then have that certain edge that goes into the harm territory. Some lean into Zionism, some lean into antisemitism. Some are just outright racist, some are full on fascist. And that’s really the entirety of it. I just don’t want people to be hurt anymore. So to answer your questions, anon:
I don’t know what the right thing to say is and no matter how careful I am, it will never be correct enough for you. I am angry and horrified at the harm that has been done over many years to the Palestinian people. None of my words can really summarize that history, or what is happening to them right now. Every single day I learn something new, and every single day it is someone doing irreparable harm to innocent people. I am disgusted by the never ending terrorism and harm done by people who think that killing innocents is a worthy way to get them what they want. And that goes for anyone who does this, including but not limited to the Hamas, the Israeli army, or my very own colonizing country. I am alarmed at how black and white people are treating this, and how no consideration is allowed for those who fall between the cracks or who dont follow their strict narrative. That people forget that Jewish Palestinian people exist when they go on their rants, or what people from every ‘side’ or corner of the world can want the end of the harm. That people have hatred for Jewish and Muslim people with no regards to who they actually are and what they believe. That there are so many who support Palestinian freedom, and then parrot outright fascist talking points. That many come to support their Jewish friends, but then say that Palestinian children deserve to die because _____. So, no. There is nothing I can say that really matters. Because no matter what I say someone out there will twist my words, or misunderstand, or tell me that I’m supporting something I don’t support. Because no matter what I say, I just can’t write the right words on fucking Tumblr to stop the harm from being done.
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madtomedgar · 1 year
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I wish "support" and "condemn" weren't the two dominant modes of talking about a character because imo that's fundamentally the most boring way to look at it, and also because like. There are things jgy, who I love, did that I think are extremely fucked up and kinda disturbing, and how the character gets there and then deals with having done that, and why are very much part of what I find compelling. And that's not compatible with a lot of... I guess "pro" jgy stuff but that's stupid! Like. The psychosexual derangement of jgs's murder is so juicy! The "it's actually fine, just don't think about it, that's what I do 🙃" response to Qin Su and then ??????? When she thinks that's nuts is very juicy too! Yes he is very smart and very polite and often well intentioned and often has a choice between bad and worse but it is also important that he is a a little bit of a nut job and I would find him kinda boring if he wasn't tbqh
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valoale · 4 months
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Is it normal to have a mental breakdown over the loss of the ability to smell and taste
Because I am
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bai-watch · 7 months
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Is it bad that I never actually went to the gym? I just laid in bed and played with my puppy instead.
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shadowxamyweek · 1 year
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This amazing artwork is by Rori and has been posted with their permission! You can find it and so many of their other fantastic works by following this link to their Twitter!💖🖤
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