The Amount Of Anime Screenshots I Stared At For This One A;dslkfsa;lk

Steve has a secret, well “secret” may not be the correct way to describe it. He has something for himself, thats what. Ever since he stopped playing basketball and doing swim competitions once he graduated he's had way more free time, which at first he filled with shifts at Family Video, or bothering Robin.

Then, when she started school he started doing art more. Which, may come a surprise to many, as he never really talked about his interest in paintings and old art.

Greek sculptures that are able to show life in a still ethereal way, while still being able to twist it at their will. Renaissance oil paintings, capturing tragedy yet still being able to portray it as beautiful, in their own terrible twisted ways.

He likes sketching on paper, painting on canvas. His paintings aren't usually too different from the things he sees around him. Honestly thats the only things he paints, people, his friends, places he goes, things he sees that stick with him, dreams, moments that play on repeat in his head.

Around his Junior year, after the Demogorgon, Steve had turned the sad basement in his sad empty house, into his own space. A place where he can go and do his art, hang it, play music on his walkman, or using the record player he got from a pawn shop a few months prior. Somehow the basement is the only space that actually feels like his in his house, not even his bedroom.

Steve’s art was not very consistent to be honest, mostly the kids and Robin, landscapes that he liked, the Demogorgon/dogs, the Mindflayer (he needs some way of getting those out of his head, and somehow drawing them down feels freeing.) He does have a few paintings of Nancy from when they were together, she’s become less of a model for his work after everything though.

The last time he painted her in a painting alone, was one of that bathroom in a girl he barely knows’ house, a spilled drink on Nancy’s dress, and red solo cups littering the counter.

Steve’s art shifts though, after a moment that will never leave his mind. He knows who Eddie Munson is, obviously. How could he not? Honestly Steve isn't that surprised Henderson and the others befriended the guy, he does run a DnD club.

But then, Henderson needs a ride home after their club meetings because his mom is working late, and then Lucas and Mike’s parents are also asking Steve to pick them up too. Babysitting duty, as per usual.

Steve arrives a bit earlier than he planned. He didn't have any project to consume himself into, hitting an art block begrudgingly. But then, Steve sees Eddie Munson, sitting on a fake throne, watching the kids and other club members argue, he has his chin rested on his fist, and he's wearing a white tank top, showing off his shoulders, given the fact it’s still September.

The lighting of the small theater room captures Steve’s interest like a moth to the flame, and he is regretting having left his sketchbook at home, even though he never draws around the kids or anyone he knows.

Eddie Munson’s face and curly locks fill up the pages of Steve’s journal and some canvases for months after, and Steve rarely genuinely complains about coming to pick the kids up.

Afterwords, months later from that day. Chrissy Cunningham dies, and Eddie Munson almost goes with her. God, or whatever deity that was looking down upon him, was on Steve’s side in that moment, when he was able to revive Eddie and then drag him out of the Upside Down.

Steve gets closer with Eddie after that, they become actual friends. Steve was so used to witnessing his muse from afar, it was so…exciting, to see Eddie in all his glory, just a few feet away, and his smile being directed at him.

“Do you even have any hobbies, Harrington?” Steve blinks. Him, Eddie, Robin, Nancy, and the party, are all hanging out by the pool. Steve is lounging on one of the chairs, sunglasses over his eyes as Eddie talks beside him.

“What?” Steve responds.

“I mean…I like barely ever see you do anything besides sort Movies at Family Video, or boss around the kids. Like, what do you do when we're not all together?” Eddie asks, moving his hand a little as he talks. Steve thinks for a moment.

“Funny,” Steve answers instead. Eddie scoffs.

“I'm being serious, man! What do you do?” Eddie laughs a little, most likely at the ridiculousness of it all. What would Steve know, Eddie is like a puzzle, and Steve has to take every minute slowly, deciphering everything he lays out for him, via tongue or action.

“I don't know, what do you do?” Steve says, almost carefully.

“Band stuff, DnD, Writing,” Eddie lists. “And I guess saving the world now, but thats a bit of a side hussle.” Steve scoffs.

“Whatever, man.” And thats that, they don't talk about it again. But it sticks with Steve, because his friends really do think he doesn't do anything with his life. It's not like he has college classes to study for, so what does he do?

Later, maybe two or three weeks after, Steve decides he wants to show Eddie his space. The two of them are alone, Robin is in Nevada, visiting her grandparents, so the trio’s usual movie night is cut down to a duo’s movie night.

Although Steve finds himself mostly focusing on Eddie and his beautiful hair sitting next to him, than watching ET. The little alien scares him a bit anyway. Eddie notices him staring though, his eyes flickering to meet Steves, then a smirk spreading across his lips.

“We are watching a movie, lover boy.” Eddie says. Steve goes red, his gaze shifting to his lap. Steve furrows his eyebrows then stands and shuts the TV off. “Woah! Hey!”

“I want to show you something.” Steve says, it's a bit quieter than he meant it to be, but his tone indicates something to Eddie, which has him staring at Steve, starstruck.

Steve walks out the room and hears Eddie follow him. He gets to the basement door and opens it, flicks on the stair light.

“Basement- woah- okay, guess I'm getting murdered. Thought I’d go out in a more metal way than this.” Eddie says as they walk down. Steve laughs a little and shakes his head.

“I just think you should see this.” Steve says. “Nothing life threatening, I promise.”

“Alright, I trust you, Stevie.”

“Good.”

Steve turns and flicks on the light as they step onto the concrete. The lights flicker on, revealing the paintings on the walls and art supplies on the tables and counters.

“Woah-” Eddie says. “Is this, all your stuff?” Steve sighs, he folds his arms and faces Eddie. He looks shellshocked.

“Yeah.” Steve says. “You said I don't have any hobbies, I do, actually.” Eddie looks around, walking slowly.

“Is that Henderson? Why is he wearing yellow gloves?” Eddie asks. Steve walks over to a painting of Dustin from Steve’s angle while they were walking on the train tracks, a bucket of raw meat is in one hand and he's wearing the headphones for his radio.

“D’Art,” Steve says. “That was when we were leading him away. I made that one after everything happened. I was trying not to think about the Demogorgon stuff and everything, so I just drew him. I have one of Max from that day I never finished painting in a stack I think too.” Eddie doesn't say anything for a minute after Steve is done explaining.

“You can paint.” Eddie says, though not like a question. “These are beautiful…” Eddie looks around and walks to another one he sees. It's one of the Byers and Hopper’s, all hugging while laughing. El looks the happiest. Steve had painted that after they had all gotten together after everything. “Why…didn't you tell anyone?”

“About what?” Steve asks, folding his arms as Eddie brings up a hand to touch the painting.

“This- Steve, you're amazing at this. These are…” Eddie trails off as something catches his eye, he slowly starts to walk towards a big painting propped up behind one of the tables laid out in the middle of the room. Steve walks to him to see which one he's looking at.

An angel, knelt over a puddle, crying as it stares at his reflection, which is blurred and dark. He stands in a forest, his wings are long and huge, sprawling out above him.

It’s one of Steve’s bigger ones, the inspiration came from a dream he had after they had read about Icarus in his english class back in Highschool.

“It’s… magnificent.” Eddie whispers. Steve smiles gently at Eddie’s reaction. Eddie backs up a bit and looks away from the painting. “Is that me?” Steve follows his eye, to the painting. Eddie walks towards it, Steve stays behind him. It’s the first one Steve ever made of Eddie, the one of him on the throne.

“Yeah, it is.” Steve says. “I made that the first night I came to pick up the kids.” He says. “The first time I met you, actually met you.” They share a look.

“You are incredible, Steve Harrington.”

Permanent Damage

If you look long enough into the void, the void begins to look back through you.

Draco Malfoy will never be able to hold anything for long. Constant crucios over 3 years has damaged his nerves.Voldemort was most displeased with his inability to finish his task, the Carrow’s annoyed with his refusal to torture students for their detentions. His hands shake and shiver, nerves constantly shaking with invisible, imaginary pain that stopped years ago. He yells in frustration as his shaking body repeatedly clinks his teacup loudly against its saucer, another futile attempt to keep his hands steady, and smashes it against the floor, a thousand white shards glittering against the black tile.

Harry Potter breaks down every time he gets a headache. Hand clapping to his forehead as the pain sets on, muttering to himself that ‘hes not back.’ ‘I killed him.’ ‘Its over’ as he scans the room; flinching at too pale skin, hand twitching towards his wand as brown eyes reflect red in the flickering, fluorescent light. The cold tile beneath his fingers grounds him as he tries to convince himself that he’s okay. The feeling that some part of him died that day in the forest, surrendering before Voldemort’s wand never leaves, the hollow feeling leaving an aching, painful hole in its wake.

Ron Weasley finds himself scanning rooms over and over again. Planning exit strategies and ways to take out everyone in the room in order to escape. He imagines everyone as an enemy in disguise, subconsciously moving people like chess pieces and picking his small flat, not because it was cheap or because the neighborhood was good (its dismal really) but because it had the best strategic advantage in regards to the city and places around him, in order to hide in case of attacks. He once again comes to his senses after a nightmare and sighs as he realizes that in his delirium he once again had filled pages upon pages of his notebook with battle tactics and the floor plans of places hes been and fought (Hogwarts, the Ministry, the Burrow...). He rips them out and adds them to a growing folder before making a cup of tea.

Hermione Granger finds herself hording food, slipping apples into pockets and bread into her purse. She comes home to find herself with pockets of tarts and a bag of crackers, handfuls of berries slipped between pages of paperwork and cereal bars snuck into file folders. The months of hiding and foraging have made her paranoid and hyper aware of how much food she’ll need to get through the day. She’ll find herself counting calories and balancing proteins, carbs and fats before she can stop herself and measuring how much she eats, intuitively leaving some over for Harry and Ron, forgetting that they are no longer on the run, having to ration food.

Luna is no longer as carefree and dreamy as she was. Her creatures turn from whimsical and delicate to horrifying. Claws and teeth grow to protect and attack. She won’t leave the house for days, wandering around inside with closed eyes to avoid Blibbering Humdingers who now have poisonous spines and Nargles with razor teeth, her mind having twisted them from cures for loneliness to share with her father, to weapons of destruction to protect her from the outside world. They are real enough to her that she convinces herself they’ve locked her inside her house and won’t let her leave, she thinks they’ve kidnapped and hurt her friends because ‘It’s  to protect you’ ‘They are spies’ ‘It’s not real Luna’ ‘They only want to hurt you’. The whispers follow everywhere and consume her, dragging her into the void. It’s when she locks Hermione in her basement under the influence of her broken mind, twisted by false images and under the guise of Hermione being someone else using polyjuice, that she gets a room in the Janus Thickney ward of St Mungos. She has moments of clarity but they are few and far between. her mind crumbled, her spirit broken, a twisted shadow of the young, bright girl who hummed happily as she waltzed barefoot through the halls.

Dennis Creevey perpetually has a broken, cracked, dirty camera on a shelf in his bedroom, never to be touched.

George Weasley has smashed every mirror in his flat and refuses to repair them

Percy Weasley takes to straight vodka and tequila out of the bottle because his guilt over Fred.

Kreacher forever wears a cracked and blood stained locket till the day he dies.

Teddy Lupin spends hours staring at pictures of his parents, shifting into one or the other or trying for the perfect mixture of both, never getting it quite right.

Minerva McGonnagal finds a dusty box under Severus Snape’s bed filled with cracked records; a flaky leather jacket; old Polaroids of a girl with a head of flames and eyes of shattered emerald, smiling, arms wrapped tight around a boy with inky hair and sharp, onyx eyes; a fractured glass figurine of a lily lying carefully on top of the pile; folded within an old letter. She sobs over a life spent hating and being hated as she pats the scratched lacquer on a string-less bass guitar

There will always be an empty seat at many tables all over the country as people mourn lives lost unfairly.

You can take people out of the war, but can you take the war out of people?

Oh my god you love percy *and* you like teen wolf?!?!?!?!!!! Ive found my kin oh my god!!!!!

TW SPOILERS DON'T READ IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED

UGH

WTF

ALLISON JUST DIED

I'M GOING TO CRY

thinking about how Johnny and Alex met at a shitty night job and decided a few years later to write an audio drama that literally changed the lives of thousands of people. how Harlan was literally unemployed when he decided to start making malevolent, and now he's singlehandedly revolutionizing the audio drama landscape. or Zach Valenti and Gabriel Urbina being long-time college friends who wanted to make something fun with no expectation that over 20 million people would listen to it....not being hyperbolic at all when I say that some of the best pieces of audio fiction have been made in basements by teams of less than 3 people. wtnv has always been a few friends who wanted to make something interesting after their day job. i am just thinking of artists persevering under the crushing weight of capitalism. .. and great art made out of pure love and curiosity for an emerging medium...

people are saying do it scared, but you also gotta do it alone. you'll miss out on so much you want to do if you wait til someone will do it with you. do it scared and do it alone.

a few pieces i did last month on the patreon

anyone else relate

dont.....dont call me out like this!!!!!!

it’s so important for your health and well-being to get overly attached to a fictional man who is both deeply amoral and unbelievably, pathetically sad

You know when you're checking out a new fandom and you stumble across a writer/artist you loved in a previous fandom and it feels like running into a childhood friend at a bar

if we're going to date, you may have to defeat the seven podcasts i'm currently hyper-fixating on