Flail \flāl\
v.tr.
2. To wave or swing vigorously; thrash
v.intr.
1. To move vigorously or erratically; thrash about
2. To strike or lash out violently
It starts off small, things people wouldn’t even be able to tell is an early sign of something wrong. Misplacing keys, forgetting which day he has his shifts, what time he’s supposed to get Robin. Robin notices though.
Robin knows Steve always keeps his keys on the hook next to Eddie’s by the front door, that’s where he always finds them, he’s not misplacing the keys, he’s forgetting the hook exists.
Robin knows Steve has the same shifts every week, they never change because they line up with Eddie’s at the record store nearby. Robin knows Steve isn’t forgetting what time he’s supposed to pick Robin up, he’s forgetting Robin moved away a few months ago after she graduated college.
Robin keeps noticing when the kids start calling her because the little things are becoming big things.
Robin notices when Dustin calls and tells her Steve thought he and Suzie were back together, “Like how crazy is that we broke up two years ago, I don’t think I’ve even mentioned her lately.”
Robin notices when Lucas calls and tells her Steve asked when his next game was, “The season ended months ago, he came to the finals.”
Robin notices when Max calls and whispers softly, “He asked to take me to the skatepark, Robin, I told him I had to help mum. He’s forgotten I’m blind Robin.”
Robin wished she’d noticed sooner, maybe years ago when Steve was getting knocked around a lot. She wished she’d screamed in the face of those Russians to take her instead. She wished a lot of things when Eddie called her.
“He’s in hospital, Birdie, he collapsed at work.”
Robin is back in Chicago for the first time since she graduated. She wished she’d visited sooner.
“Do you think the feds are gonna let me go soon, Robbie? I mean it usually doesn’t take this long for them to bring me the NDAs.”
Robin hopes Steve doesn’t notice her eyes going glossy as she runs her fingers through his hair, “Don’t worry Stevie, I’m sure they’ll be in soon, Dusty is probs just arguing over something in his.”
“At least he isn’t having to explain he raised a demodog. Did I ever tell you about that Robbie?”
Robin smiles softly, “Yeah but tell me again, don’t want to forget any of it.”
Eddie gives Robin the gist of what the doctors said, Eddie didn’t understand much, a lot of technical words and shit. Too many concussions, more than they knew about most likely. They say it’ll probably get worse with no timeframe of how quickly it’ll happen, there might be good days, there will be a lot of bad days.
The first bad day comes a week later. Steve barely remembers Eddie, trapped in a time when Eddie was just the kids DM. Eddie sobs in the corridor in Robin’s arms. The next day it’s like nothing happened and Steve gets discharged. They tell Steve, this time Eddie is the one to comfort him.
“I don’t want to forget you Eds.”
“It’s okay if you do, sweetheart, I’ll still be here.”
It’s Robins idea to start writing everything down. Eddie, Nancy and the kids all help. Filling journals upon journals of stories and pictures of Steve’s life to help on the bad days. Steve has to quit his job, Robin moves back to Chicago, they make it work.
On bad days depending on how far back Steve is Dustin or Robin or Eddie will read through the books with him, filling in the gaps of what he needs. On the worst days, Eddie leaves the pile of journals on the bed with a note and waits downstairs to see if Steve will join him later.
They make it work for a few years. Steve celebrates his 30th birthday with perfect clarity. He writes himself an entry in the journal next to a big group picture with Steve and Eddie’s matching rings showing.
That July, over a decade since Starcourt, Steve is in hospital again. He’d collapsed at breakfast. Eddie had thought it was going to be one of their good days, Steve had woken up fine, all his memories in tact if a little fuzzy. He’d made them coffee and giggled at Eddie’s singing while he made them eggs and just like that it all came crashing down.
Steve’s brain is shutting down. They don’t know if he’ll make it past Christmas. There’s more bad days after that. More days with books left on the bed. Most days Steve doesn’t even come downstairs. On the good days, Eddie always calls off work. He’d rather be fired than miss a single second of Steve smiling at him like he does, so full of love.
They have Christmas, the whole family comes, they have to bring every chair from around the house and squish in around the table just to fit but it’s perfect. Steve sits between Robin and Eddie, face bright and full of love and life. Everyone gives him the tightest hug as the night closes, all lingering, afraid of letting go.
“I love you, dingus.”
“I love you too, Robbie.”
Later, upstairs in their room, Steve and Eddie go through all the journals, laughing softly at each little note the kids have left. Steve writes his little journal entry, a tradition of good days, and curls into Eddie’s arm whispering soft loving words to each other before falling asleep.
Steve never wakes up.
The funeral happens shortly after, all of the family is still in town. Robin holds Eddie afterwards as they go through the journals together. When they get to the last page, they struggle not to smudge the ink with their tears.
Dear Eds and Robbie,
I don’t know how many more good days I’m going to get so I’m leaving this here for you now. I love you both so much, you’re equally my soulmates and I want you two to look after each other while I’m gone.
Robs, go travelling with Nancy, ok? Thank you for looking after me all these years but it’s time for you to go look after yourself. Go see the world for me, tell me all about it wherever I am when you get back.
Eddie, I’m sorry we didn’t get as much time as we hoped, I hope you know that even just a day with you has been worth a lifetime with anyone else. Go follow your dreams, write music, perform, show the world how amazing I know you are. I give you full permission to fall in love with whoever you meet along the way, I don’t want either of you guys to be alone.
the thing about steddie that gets me is that it‘s just these two characters that have so much love for other people, but so little for themselves.
we see eddie with the kids, giving his all to make them feel like they belong to hellfire, we see him with chrissy, putting on a little show so she doesn‘t feel threatened by him, we see him with dustin, roughhousing and telling him to never change (and that he loves him), we hear wayne talk about eddie lovingly, we see him DIE for a town that hates him. and then we see the eddie who talks down on himself, talking about how he always runs, „hunt the freak, right?“, and him blaming himself for chrissy‘s death. we see him being shunned and hunted by the whole town for who he is and for something that he was a victim of.
we see steve with the kids, always the babysitter and yet so serious about his role, we see him with robin, accepting her with open arms and driving her to school probably every morning, we see him with nancy, his ex, who he still tries to protect with all he has. and then we see steve who calls himself stupid, who talks about how weird he was as a child, who says how horrible he is as a boyfriend, who blames himself for not being better at school. we see him being ostracized by his old friends for becoming a better person, getting beat up multiple times and no one ever properly acknowledging it, and we know his parents are basically never there.
just the thought of them finally giving each other the love they deserve is so beautiful to me.
Taika Waititi doesn’t even need to advertise his tv shows, gays just won’t shut up about it online and recommend it for free like a game of LGBTelephone
Sea Fever! My favorite poem in the world, especially as the season ends each year and I get nostalgic. I hope I’ve done it justice.
_
other comics /art /ko-fi /patreon
unironically, one of my favourite pieces of horror writing is victor hugo’s description of an octopus
[ID: photo of a book. Some of the text has been highlighted. It says “It is a pneumatic machine that attacks you. You are dealing with a footed void. Neither claw thrusts nor tooth bites, but an unspeakable scarification. A bit is formidable, but less so than such suction. The claw is nothing compared to the sucker. The claw, that’s the beast that enters your flesh; the sucker, that’s you yourself who enters into the beast. Your muscles swell, your fibres twist, your skin bursts beneath this unworldly force, your blood spurts and frightfully mixes with the mollusks’ lymph. The beast is superimposed upon you by its thousand vile mouths; the hydra is incorporated in the man; the man is amalgamated with the hydra. The two make one. This dream is upon you. The tiger can only devour you; the octopus, what horror, breathes you in! It draws you toward itself and into itself, and, bound, stuck, powerless, you slowly feel yourself emptied out within that horrendous sack, that monster. Beyond the terror of being eaten alive is the ineffability of being drunk alive.” End ID]
and don’t forget his drawing of one.
Octopus bearing the Initials V. H., Victor Hugo circa 1866:
#this fully rules #like victor my dude octopi absolutely dont do this but this rules supremely
There are many benefits to being a marine biologist
hey, that post you reblogged about the antichrist, can you explain that a bit more? my partner’s family is all about that but this is the first im hearing of it in terms i can understand. i can offer you tears and flower petals as well as a kofi tip if you have one of those!
You gotta understand that there is a significant portion of the American government who thinks the apocalypse is going to happen in their lifetime, that this is a good thing, and that they need to do everything in their power to make it happen faster so we can all go to heaven.
A significant portion of why our government supports Israel is because the construction of the third temple in Israel is a key for the apocalypse. The antichrist is another.
Yeah some of them basically think they have a duty to keep the middle east in a state of unending war, they *want* to see natural disasters and plagues so they know the rapture is coming, and they fight against environmental conservation entirely because they think our world is meant to be temporary. It’s not “just” hate or greed or stupidity but part of a system they think makes sense.
Are we sure these guys arent part of some lovecraftian death cult? Because that sounds a lot like a lovecraftian death cult
They are real religious fundamentalists with very real political power who are responsible for incalculable human suffering and hundreds of thousands of deaths.
Religious fundamentalism could pretty much be described as a Lovecraftian death cult.
Then you also have Al Queda/Isis who are literally trying to collapse civilization to build their caliphate on its ashes.
So you have endless wars in the Middle East that are driven not by one, but two Lovecraftian death cults.
Jesus Christ shut the fuck up real people are dying in real wars
Gillian Philip is doxxing fans and MINORS now. A fan recently sent her an email voicing their concerns about her views and the impact they have on her work and fan base. Gillian decided to post the fan’s full name and email address to their PUBLIC Twitter in an attack. The fan is a MINOR who runs a Warriors fan account. How disgusting do you have to be to dox and potentially HARM a MINOR!?
in case anyone (like me) was just hearing about this, Gillian works on the Erin Hunter team and is now openly a TERF.
she works on Survivors and Bravelands.
see that checkered flag? it’s a TERF dogwhistle, something they put in their usernames or bios to let other transphobes know they’re one of them. if you come across someone using it, avoid avoid avoid.
Reblogging for the dog-whistle info, it’s important
