This Is Good. - Blog Posts

I don't want to fight anymore.

just a piece i did inspired by a few frames from the Rise movie that caught my eye:

(pls excuse my bad screenshots haha)

and when we get a parallel of 1x15 in 2x1 of langdon talking to dana about how he's stressed and nervous and can't cope but its the start of the shift so she's her normal self and puts an arm around him and asks him if he wants a coffee and he says "thats a good idea" instead of "yes please" and gets up to grab a mug and make the coffee leaving her quietly stunned because for langdon its been 10 months but for dana its been a day

Akutagawa 🥺

The only reason I don’t draw or write about aku that much is because I know damn well if I dive into him I’m gonna love him and get sucked into a rabbit hole that will emotionally destroy me. But this was fun to draw.

officially trying out tumblr because twitter and tiktok are becoming too uncomfortable rn

(apologies for lack of tumblr experience/etiquette i am learning 💔)

@elizabethrzg this is you. You would do this to me / not srs

test my dashboard osmosis abilities

send me an ask about a fandom i know nothing about and i will summarize it as best i can

For you:>

OMG, thank you so much.

This looks amazing.

I love it! X3

Rated: T | CW: panic attacks | tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, pre-s3 steddie

Prompt: Get behind me

For @machete-inventory-manager 💕 thank you! (And thank you for your patience!)

🕯️🕯️🕯️

Steve is shit at keeping secrets. He should be used to it by now, considering his stack of NDAs is now undoubtedly longer than any book he’s ever read, but usually his lies fall on the ears of his oblivious parents, on the unknowing school nurse for why he’s back for the third day in a row for a migraine, on his teachers who berate him for falling asleep in class. It’s not—Steve is bad at keeping secrets from those he cares about, and Eddie Munson is very high on that list of people.

Steve still can’t believe it’s real, most of the time: that who he was his first years in this school hadn’t scared Eddie away completely, that he was worth Eddie giving a second chance to, that when Steve had kissed him Eddie hadn’t punched him square in the nose, that Eddie had kissed him back.

It still makes his chest hum, when he thinks about it too hard. Makes his lips twitch when he’s spacing out in class, when he’s eating dinner with his parents or when he’s driving to school: because his mind is on Eddie. He thinks about what Eddie might be doing. If his day has been okay and if anyone gave him any shit, if all of his deals went smoothly or if Mrs. O’Donnell still has it out for him.

He wonders if Eddie ever thinks the same about him.

Steve… likes to think he does, especially at times like this. At times when Eddie has Steve’s head pillowed on his chest, when Eddie’s fingers are in Steve’s hair and their legs are tangled together, when the movie they’d been watching is glowing blue on the screen, the tape over, and Steve can’t find it within himself to get up and turn it off.

Eddie’s fingers are scratching behind his ears, and the pattering of rain on the trailer’s tin roof is lulling Steve into a pleasant sort of doze. Sleep always comes easier with Eddie next to him.

“Sweetheart?” Eddie murmurs, and Steve likes this the most. Sweetheart and honey and baby, names that fall so easily from Eddie’s lips like Steve’s something sweet. Like he’s something worth savoring.

He hums and doesn’t move, Eddie’s fingers still in his hair.

“It’s getting late,” Eddie reminds him, “you spendin’ the night?”

Steve shouldn’t. His parents will ask questions he can’t answer and every night they spend with the Bimmer out front is another night of gossip they hand over to Eddie’s neighbors—

But Eddie is warm. His hairy legs are locked around Steve’s like he doesn’t want to let him go and his lips are so close to the crown of Steve’s head he can feel the breath of his words and Steve thinks maybe enduring a phone call with his parents is worth it. He could borrow Eddie’s boxers. He could wear one of Eddie’s more neutral shirts to school tomorrow and the two of them would be the only ones who knew.

“You gonna let me go if I say no?” Steve props himself up on his elbows, the question falling from his tongue because he can’t help but tease, because Eddie’s face always flushes like he’s in awe of it.

Eddie’s legs flex and lock, his arms wrapping possessively around Steve’s middle even as his cheeks darken. “If I had it my way,” he murmurs, tilting his head close, “I’d never let you go.” And Eddie kisses him. Steve parts his lips as Eddie’s tongue slips inside, warm and wet and coveting, licking behind his teeth—

The lights flicker. Steve can see the flash of the them through his closed eyelids and even as he tells himself it’s nothing the hairs on his arms stand on end, his ears begin to ring as his senses heighten, the only noise still the rain on the roof and the wet sounds of their mouths, until it happens again.

Steve breaks their kiss, dread pooling low in his belly as he hovers over Eddie, his gaze darting around the room as he searches for anything he could use to protect them both.

“Sorry,” Eddie exhales, “shoddy electrical in this thing.”

But Steve can barely hear him as the ringing in his ears grows, his skin beginning to tingle as that familiar surge of adrenaline begins to flood him.

“Sweetheart?”

The lights go out.

Steve scrambles off the couch, nearly taking himself out at the knees over Eddie’s coffee table, and lunges for the lamp on the side table. It wouldn’t be enough, but it would be something. It would, if Steve was lucky, be enough for Eddie to—

“Steve—?”

“Get behind me,” Steve interrupts, his palms slick as he wrenches the cord from the outlet, holding the heavy wooden base of the lamp high above his head.

“Stevie, baby, maybe the power doesn’t go out on your side of the tracks but over here it’s—”

“Please.” Steve’s voice cracks over the vowels, desperation flooding him: he can’t lose Eddie. He can’t. Just the thought of it—the thought of Eddie anywhere close to what lies beneath their feet makes his palms slicken, makes his heart jackrabbit in his chest and his blood thunder in his ears.

He can’t let it happen.

The couch creaks as Eddie rises, their backs to the wall as Steve holds up his lamp, unseeing, into the dark.

For long minutes that’s all they do: the only sounds are Steve’s uneven breaths and the pattering of rain on the roof, and Steve’s gaze flicks between every point of entry as his eyes adjust to the dark.

But as the rain patters on, as lightning flashes outside and as the adrenaline begins to wane from his blood, as the lamp he’s been holding over his head begins to feel like it weighs a ton, embarrassment begins to fill him instead.

It was just the storm. It was the rain, and the wind, and the trailer’s old electrical system, and Steve had forced Eddie into a corner over nothing.

Steve sets down the lamp, his arms trembling as the adrenaline surge leaves his muscles tired and shaking. He licks his lips, his mouth bone dry, and brings the heels of his palms to his eyes. Heavily, he sits back on the couch, unable to look Eddie in the eyes. “Sorry,” he croaks, “that was—” but he can’t explain. He can’t explain because that would open Eddie to a world Steve wants—needs—to protect him from.

His teeth begin to chatter, and his hands are trembling so badly he curls them up, pressing his fists into the sockets of his eyes just so he doesn’t look like he’s losing it completely.

The trailer floor creaks, and Eddie, slowly, sits beside him. Just the weight of him makes Steve’s nerves ease, his jaw unclenching.

“I don’t like heights,” Eddie murmurs into their quiet, and Steve has no idea why he’s bringing this up but at least he’s talking, at least he’s not throwing Steve out the door for losing his shit. “Jeff has to drive when we go over bridges.” His hand rests on the small of Steve’s back. “I’m gonna go get some candles, yeah? I’ll be right back.” Eddie rubs a soft circle against Steve’s spine before standing, his footsteps rapid before he clatters around a closet just a few feet away.

He’s quick, and within a minute there’s three mostly-burned candles flickering dimly on the coffee table, and Steve no longer feels like his heart’s going to beat out of his chest when he can finally meet Eddie’s gaze. “Sorry,” he says again, lamely, his voice still shaky, “it’s normally not that bad.”

Because it’s not. Because adding Eddie to the mix—the mere potential of it—had sent Steve into a panic.

“It’s okay if it’s that bad,” Eddie states, simply, like that’s all it boils down to, like what just happened isn’t completely and totally fucking insane. Eddie takes his hand, and Steve realizes how cold his own fingers are against the heat of Eddie’s palm. “It can be that bad around me.”

Tears, unbidden and unexpected flood Steve’s lower lids and he has to stop himself from blinking so they don’t spill. He sniffs hard, instead, and squeezes Eddie’s hand.

“Stevie?” Eddie murmurs, his voice gentle and probing, “this is why you have that nail bat under your bed, isn’t it?”

Too fucking smart. Eddie is too fucking smart for his own good and Steve is livid at himself for falling for someone who’s smart enough to connect any of the dots—but Steve is weak. He’s weak, and he nods instead of denying it, because as desperate as he is to keep Eddie away from it all, to be understood by him, even in this small amount, is a relief he can’t resist.

“Wayne always thought there was something wrong with this town,” Eddie mutters, and Steve can’t help his choked breath of a laugh because of course—of course—Wayne would know. “Always said the government was out here covering it all up.” Eddie nods, like without Steve having to validate any of it, he already knows. “He always says they’ve got ways of keeping people quiet.” Eddie mutters. He stares, and Steve realizes that, really, was a question.

He barely moves, but Eddie is watching, and his eyes widen when Steve tilts his head, just slightly, forwards.

And then Eddie’s scooting closer. He’s wrapping Steve up in his arms and the smell of cigarettes and cedar wraps around him, and his face is pressed into Eddie’s warm neck and Eddie’s fingers are back in his hair.

“You’re okay,” Eddie murmurs, and then, after a moment, like he was hesitating, adds, “and I’m okay, too, sweetheart. ’S just us, here.”

Steve clings back, his fingers pressing deep and desperate against Eddie’s back, like his very hold could be what keeps Eddie next to him, safe.

And Steve’s not letting go.

✨✨✨

And then they lived happily ever after and nothing bad happened to them ever again 🥰

Thank you for the prompt! It feels so good to be able to post these again!

Also, I’m so sorry, but it’s been so long since I’ve posted anything on here that I lost my permanent tag list. I think that’s just my sign that I’m not going to do it anymore 😅 apologies to anyone who is unhappy about that 🫶

My biggest hugs and kisses to @hbyrde36 for her betaing 💗✨

Dearest Writer,

Oh hell yeah.

- Sincerely,

romance deprived maladaptive daydreamers.

Distracting

Synopsis: your usually rather easy to work with, but recently Viktor has found himself easily distracted by you..a lot of you. Especially tonight, when you decided to wear that dress.

WARNINGS; Viktor x F!reader, fluff, fluff, fluff, Viktor pining mostly, only a hint of sexual tension of you squint

I didn’t proofread this bc I wrote it on a plane, have fun though

Viktor has felt his hands shaking for the better half of an hour at this point, his cane held in a white knuckled grip as he watch you casually stroll about the party.

His amber gaze had locked to your spine as soon as you walked back him after a short greeting..despite the heaven it seemed to see your bare skin, that dress surely was from hell, hand sewn by the devils himself.

The dress itself was classy, high neckline, form fitting sure, but that long leg slip was a crime. It crept up your leg, if you sit just right it would likely show a hint of your hip (or so Viktor had expertly theorized). But what was causing the most pressure in his knuckles, was the lack of back on the gown..a large view of your bare skin exposed to the air, ending just under your waist, it had been a long few hours.

He sipped his drink, taking his planned break from watching you, but that appears to be an exactly when you decided to approach, just when he had let his guard down. He nearly chocked when his eyes open to find you approaching, the click of your heels echoing across the hardwood floors of the ballroom before you tilt your head to meet his gaze, amused by the sudden panic that you caught flash over his features.

“Hey..enjoying yourself, Viktor?” You ask, settling next to him against the wall, taking the brief pause in wait for his reply to take a sip of your own drink.

He takes his time alright, at this Angel he could see exactly how close the hen of your dress is from slipping off your shoulder if only with the assistance of an eager hand, a less shaken one. He at this point had also taken note of the deep shade of red on your lips, only a hint darker than the dress. He struggled through the thoughts, now registering the question and panicking at what must have been an eternal amount of time,

“Uh..yes..yes. The party it is,” he tried, he sure did, “lovely..” but his mouth failed him as did his gaze when it flickered over your exposed skin once more.

You give a light chuckle, turning further toward him and stealing away his view. He does a better job hiding the disappointment of not yet recognizing of that was indeed a freckle just above your shoulder blade.

“Well that’s a surprise, you hate parties don’t you?”

He offers you a light toggle of his head in reply, glancing away to find a new focus. God knows if he was to try and focus on you, his gaze would just find itself on the lipstick you wore again, and he wouldn’t risk you catching that.

He settled on the door across the way, sipping his drink again only to find his lips met with nothing. He lifted the glass to his eye line, inspecting to discover he had in-fact run out of his champagne. Viktor have a gentle huff of amusement, or disappointment, gesturing it at you as he would sometimes do in the lab with certain tools or noted when they had broken or been written incorrectly. And as always he found comfort in your light laugh.

You glance at the glass, confirming his suspicions correct.

“Poor thing..how will you ever survive the rest of the party without ur social crutch.” You tease, tapping his glass lightly with one finger and inspecting your own glass, still mostly full.

“I can socialize perfectly find without a drink” he insists, flipping the glass upside down in his hand to that he held it by the support now.

“Really? Because you have been standing here since the party began-“

“I’ve been distracted” he defends again, tilting his head at you lightly and swaying the glass. His gaze is calm until he sees yours change. Your eyes light up with curiosity and mischief as the weight of his reply fully hits you, and he feels the hit directly in his stomach as he does too.

“Distracted?” You ask, leaning closer to search his gaze for hints. “By what? Or who? Is it someone here?” You ask feverishly.

He’s screwed. You expect an answer and even in the event that there wasn’t one, which there most definitely was, you wouldn’t let up without one. And if he wasn’t careful his eyes would float back to your dress again, and he could not allow for that to happen. He had been so deliberate Bout his casual observation of you in the past few weeks. Ever since you had handed him those notes, and he had noticed just how pretty your hands were. Your nails painted in a deep red color, and the shiny gold rings on your fingers that only further complimented what he had noted was your soft looking skin.

After that it was your hair, you had been leaning back into your chair after about an hour of inspecting the current project, and you had ruffled your locks sending the tufts to flutter gracefully around the crown of your head. He had noticed how the movement reminded him of a butterflies wings, and that the stray pieces had fallen around your cheek, which he had earlier found were round like one of those old pinups he had seen in pictures as a teenager..and how they would get rounder when you smiled.

And Janna the smile, you smiled so much..you smiled at everyone, but every time you did he couldn’t stop himself from turning just for a moment to catch it, one day finding the lab so frustrating that he had decided to start noting whenever you smiled at him, just for mild entertainment. He counted twelve, mostly when you were joking or messing with Jayce and seeking his approval on the bad jokes, however number ten had been when you offered him the last bite of your lunch.

‘You haven’t eaten all day, come on I know you like sandwiches, eat it’ you had fought for fifteen minutes with him about eating the damned thing before he finally pulled off his goggles and gave you a tired stare before taking the simple pb and j and took the last bite dramatically in front of you. And you gave him that sweet smile..that soft smile. It wasn’t one of mischief or teasing, but if genuine satisfaction. That one was his favorite from that days count.

And now you were back to that evil smile, leaning closer to him then he had noticed and he could feel his heart rate rising to an unhealthy speed as he struggled to move, his body wouldn’t let him escape your warmth.

“No one..not- no it’s just-“ he struggled, he was struggling hard enough that he had leaned his weight off his cane and felt himself begin to tip over. His arms flailed, as his body attempted to keep him from falling, but found a new savior in your hand clutching his and tugging him up as you gave a sharp and fluttering laugh. He clutched your forearms, shuttering at the almost fall. But once his balance returned he couldn’t find it in him to let go just yet.

“You alright there? I didn’t mean to scare you that much” he panted through the finale of your laughing fit..he couldn’t help but notice didn’t pull away yet either. It was a divine moment, watching his settle your breathing and flicker your face up to face his. Your hair was out of place, curling over your round cheeks again..perfect.

You tapped his arm before he released his grip, swiftly attempting an apology before stopped him by tilting your glass toward him. His gaze flickered to it then you, as he adjusted his grip back to his cane.

“Have the rest of mine, I don’t like drinking much anyways” you offered, and without much thought he found himself taking the glass in his own hand, reading you for his empty one. For a second he had felt your fingers graze in the exchange, and as he thought you were soft.

You give him a a slight touch on his shoulder and then a tap on the cheek as he step away, “If you get bored of people watching, let me know” was your parting words as you strolled back into the social gathering, your back again becoming his main focus.

He watched you move away, again frustrated by how easy it was to get lost in how your spine moved before he glanced at the champagne in his hand. His cheeks flushed harshly at the presence of a dark stain kissed onto the glasses edge where you had drank from it. And with a deep shakily sigh, he checked for any spying eyes before hesitantly sipping from the abandoned lipsticks placement..he remained distracted for the rest of the party..and did in-fact lie when Jayce asked about why he still had the glass when they had returned home.

a Trans Akechi comic focusing on gender dysphoria

They both work Overtime, even if they appear to be lazy.

they would be good friends and nobody can change my mind