#The Art Of Dramatic Writing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

excali8ur · 2 years

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What are they scheming?

#art #rottmnt #Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt april #april o'neil #mikey #tmnt #rottmnt mayhem #mayhem #rottmnt fanart #saverottmnt #For the record I think they're writing a script for some extremely dramatic story they've come up with lmao #Anyway it took me 2 hours to make a sandwich because I was so focused on drawing this oops #Also I tried a new shading technique and idk if it was exactly what I wanted but I do like how this turned out

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nothingbizzare · 20 days

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Vampire au Teru is so dramatic

#IF ANYONE WANTS OTHER CHARACTERS DESIGNS FEEL FREE TO ASK BECAUSE I DONT KNOW WITH WHAT TO START FHKFHKFKHFKYFYJFJY #also feel free to draw them or write about them!!!!#nothingbizzare art #TERU GOING DOWN THE STAIRS FOR A DRAMATIC EFFECT WHEN MEETING MOB FOR THE FIRST TIME #HEHEHEHEHEHEHEEHEH #i still love imagining Terumob but Tery staying in the shadow looking at Mob stay in the sun smiling at him...like Mob is his sun #they are cute !! mob would give him an umbrella and try hangout when is night with Teru #mp100 #mob psycho 100 #mp100 fanart #mob psycho fanart #teruki hanazawa #hanazawa teruki #mp100 vampire au

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possibly-not-a-ghost · 2 years

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Fake Cryptids, Real Ghosts

Ok, so dp x dc/batfam because this AU has me by the throat but what if it's the fake cryptid batfamily AU who never joined the JL.

Just...imagine it. The Batfamily has been protecting Gotham quietly but fiercely by scaring the daylights out of criminals as creatures that go bump in the night. A bit of stage magic, frightening method acting, contortion, a whole language comprised of chirps, growls, and body language, and the best tech possible and you've got a recipe for striking fear into the hearts of everyone.

They've got shrines on the rooftops, vaguely on the JL radar (Cause really, who's gonna believe that Gotham, one of the worst cities has a demon problem? Constantine? Homeboy took one look at Gotham and went Nope.) and they're protected cause any self respecting Gothamite wouldn't go spilling the beans to Outsiders. The Bats keep them safe. Who would believe them anyways?

Enter half dead, half alive Danny Fenton.

Danny Fenton who has a best friend's named Tucker and Sam who find out about the Gotham Cryptids, and go absolutely ham on research because here lies something,a bunch of someone's who are Other. Maybe they're creepy but they're cool and they're Heroes and they help people.

Sure, at first it was an attempt from Sam and Tucker to help their best friend feel less alone in the face of other, more 'normal' heroes and people out there in the world. Maybe they try to further bury the Bats online cause if anyone understands keeping on the down low, it would be Amity Parker's. For awhile, Danny Fenton, sometimes Phantom is simply happy to know he's not alone.

Then he's outed and his sister who's long since been ecto-contaiminated is put at risk there's nowhere that seems safer. Gotham is a chaotic city, even without the Bats factoring in. After all Gotham has (Demons-Spirits-Creatures?) The Bats already. Who would care if a halfa and his sister hide out there? As long as they're respectful of their territory, it'll be fine right? Besides, they've got to warn the Bats anyways about the GIW and government. They're coming after ghosts, who knows if they'll be next? Spooky things have to look out for each other after all.

Cue shenanigans as Phantom who stops hiding all of his creepier traits as a ghost walks up to the Totally Human but Faking it Batman with really thoughtful gifts for all of their shrines (And one fruitcake), no heartbeat and an earnest plea for a safe haven in their Haunt because the Ancients taught him manners and the importance of respecting another entities territory.

#dp x dc #dc #batman #danny fenton #danny phantom #fake cryptid batfam #This has been living rent free in my head for the last week just picture how hysterical it would be #The Batfam in this AU who go about like normal people during the day but are Dramatic Nightmares come nighttime #rook posts stuff #rook writes stuff #kinda #Danny and Jazz being SO RESPECTFUL of the Bats #and while Danny knows they aren't ghosts he never tries to pry because they deserve their secrets #meanwhile in the Batcave Bruce and fam are going nuts because here's a literal dead child asking for a safe haven in Gotham and HOW DOES HE #FILL OUT THE PAPERWORK FOR A DEAD CHILD ALFRED HELP #and when they finally meet Jazz while still being unaware of Danny's Halfa status (He forgot okay? He's used to the ghosts who already Know #cause his sister is alive but we found ancient art depicting Phantom and ok family of choice is a Thing we respect but also what #OR Danny and Jazz try to hide in this AU even from the Bats but honestly all the ideas in my head keep making me snort #fake cryptids real ghosts au

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insinirate · 1 year

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mwah

#kv #plantcest #vash tristamp #millions knives #bark art #valued #hes so dramatic #i was this close to writing youve given me a plague

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krazieka2 · 5 months

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Lil comic about the kind of paralogues the Engage characters could have had hehe

Additional Bunet Paralogue:

#carrying over my posts from twitter choo chooooo #2023 art #fire emblem #fe engage #flexing those dramatic writing chops only to revert back into my native state #boucheron probably gets lost and ends up surrounded by corrupted. It's bunet's exact map but flipped lol #Zelkov deadly serious: one of the assassin's that slaughtered my family survived and must be hunted down #Kagetsu equally serious: AND THERE IS A SWORD TOURNAMENT THAT I MUST WIN

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 3 months

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fantasy au whiteboard scribbles <3

#the brainrot has been. SO severe lately you guys dont even Know #its insanely funny to me picturing sally accidentally setting things on fire #She's Simply 1) Made Of Fire & 2) Made Of Fire #poppy's poor tail... sally absolutely tells her that she put it over the campfire when she turned around #ohhhh a Thought... writing it down for future use #another thing that entertains me is the 'wally reverted into puppet form' arc #its full of dramatic irony <3 its so silly <3 #scribble salad #wh fantasy au #OH THIS WAS FROM WHITEBOARDING WITH MIGUEL AGAIN! INDIGOPOPTART! GO LOOK AT THAT BLOG RN!#but. yk. a 'trope' in art that i absolutely Adore #is when character's faces / upper torso is blacked out in shadow bc they're just That fucking incensed / Experiencing Emotion #ITS CATNIP TO ME!!!!

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ego-meliorem-esse · 7 months

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Stormy Eyes

The 7-year-old looking boy with boundless energy, stood atop the hill, looking down at the small church where a somber funeral was taking place. In his small hand, Alfred clutched a single flower, a blue daisy. The daisy, a simple tribute to his best friend, Davie. Alfred had returned from London with excitement, eager to share his discoveries and stories, only to discover the devastating news of Davie's passing. His young heart ached, and the weight of grief hung heavily upon him.

Throughout his short life, Alfred had always been a whirlwind of activity, his mind racing from one thought to another, his body in constant motion. His father, Arthur, had observed these tendencies with a watchful eye, understanding that his son's boundless enthusiasm often came with moments of restlessness and broken vases.

As Arthur approached his young son, he saw the boy's restless fidgeting, his hands twisting the flower stem, and his gaze darting in all directions. He knew with how much enthusiasm and excitement Alfred carried and took care of the flower on his long journey to Boston. So, having Alfred bend and break the stem was a certain cause for concern. He recognized his boys fidgeting and what it stood for. An understanding that had developed over years of being Alfred's father and mentor.

"Alfred," Arthur said sternly, yet without a hint of annoyance. His voice carrying the weight of centuries of history and responsibility. Arthur looked down from the hill to the quaint church where a crowd of silhouettes gathered, and with an almost inaudible "Ah." understood the weight of the situation. He looked down at his son, his eyes softened with concern. "I'm sorry lad."

Alfred's response was not in words but in frantic fidgeting. His young mind was trapped in a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, rendering him staring down at the destroyed flower stem he seemed to cherish only a few hours before.

Seeing his son's distress, Arthur's concern deepened. He slowly kneeled down, reached out and gently held Alfred's face in his hands, physically anchoring the restless child and forcing their eyes to meet.

"Alfred," Arthur said firmly once again, his voice breaking through the chaos in Alfred's mind. "Focus, my son. You must."

Alfred's tear-filled eyes finally met his father's, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Arthur could see his son's eyes trying to suppress more tears from welling up. The effort was unsuccessful, because as soon as Alfred took a breath, all the supressed tears fell all at once. Through all that his boy didn't make a single sound.

Arthur's words continued, his voice carrying the weight of wistom obtained by blood and violence. "My boy, your life will be a lonely but fulfilling one. You will meet many people, nations, enemies and friends along the way. Each one will leave a mark on your heart, just as your friend here did." Arthur didn't dare look away at the funeral for the friend he just mentioned in fear of loosing Alfred to his own mind once again.

Arthur's voice almost quivered as he spoke of Alfred's lost friend. "Remember them, Alfred. Remember them all, and carry their memories with you. Your existence, my dear boy, is both a solitary journey and a shared one. You are not alone in this world of nations."

He paused, his grip on Alfred's face unwavering. "Your restless spirit is a part of who you are, Alfred, and it's a gift. Use it to carry the torch for those who have gone before us and for those who will come after. You have the strength within you to focus when it truly matters. Because, my son, when you do, miracles will happen."

He released his son and instead of going back to fidget with the plant, Alfred stood still and kept looking at his father.

As the funeral procession continued below, father and son remained standing on that grassy hill. Arthur's words seemed to echo back and forth in the young boys mind, his ocean eyes finally resembling calm waters. In that moment Arthur was reminded of stormy nights at sea and the calm morning that followed.

He was always good at sailing through the storm.

#hetalia #hws england #hws america #meli speaks #myart #my art #historical hetalia #i hate hate hate the anatomy here pls dont focus on that im begging #will i ever let these two live a non dramatic life #no.#my wriring #meli writes #hetalia fanfiction #alfred f jones #arthur kirkland

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cuubism · 2 years

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"A van Dyck," Dream drawled, dragging a light finger along the gilt frame of the painting propped on the top of one of Hob's shelves. Hob really should do something more formal with that. "Interesting thing to have in your living room, Hob."

"I tell people it's a print," Hob said, coming to stand beside him and handing him his tea.

"Oh, but it is not." There was a smirk dancing on Dream's lips, Hob knew without even looking at him directly.

"Makes sense that you'd be able to tell," he sighed.

"Of course. Just how did you come across such a thing?"

"Well, I was still mingling with the aristocracy in the early 17th century. Met some interesting people." He shrugged. "Really should have sold it when I was, well, destitute, but couldn't bear to. Managed to stash it away. One of the few things I have of that time, actually."

"I can only imagine you had more than one valuable thing in your possession over the centuries," Dream mused, sipping his tea. "Why this one?"

Oh, God. He knew, didn't he?

Hob rubbed at the back of his neck. "Reminded me of you."

Hob had never known much about art, particularly back then. He hardly would consider himself a collector and certainly not a connoisseur. But that particular portrait had caught his attention immediately for its similarity to Dream.

The likeness was, indeed, striking. His hair was longer than it had been when they'd met in 1589, sweeping over his shoulders, and his features were half-draped in shadow, but his eyes. Hob would know that haughty, intense gaze anywhere.

He'd never quite discounted the idea that it was a portrait of his stranger, except that he couldn't imagine him having the patience or cause to sit for it, or the desire to be immortalized in that way.

"It is me," said Dream.

"What? Seriously?" Hob turned to stare at him and found Dream already looking back, ethereal and lovely. There was only one lamp on in the living room, night falling around them, and it cast his face in a similar light to the portrait, soft gleaming skin and plunging darkness as backdrop, limitless shadow in his eyes. "You, allowing a portrait? You're not having me on?"

"I do not joke." Dream took a step closer to him, setting his tea aside on a table. "I suppose I must have been in good humor that day."

Hob raised both eyebrows. "Oh, uh-huh, you in good humor?"

Dream's lips ticked up in a half-smile. "It happens occasionally."

Hob leaned against the shelf, careful not to jostle the painting. "For someone who so disdains the waking world, you sure are very aware of the art scene."

Dream leaned beside him, tilting his head. "You might consider me a patron of the arts."

Hob chuckled. "A patron? Or an inspiration?" He reached out and dragged his thumb along Dream's lower lip. "Dream?"

"A lover of artists, perhaps."

"I'm sure." Hob swept a hand along his cheek, breaking up the light like he was dragging a wet brush through paint. "You look like you could have stepped right out of that painting right now. You could have stepped out of any painting."

Dream looked at him from under his lashes. "Are you calling me a work of art, Hob Gadling?"

"Always."

Then Hob kissed him, hands framing his beautiful face. Dream was like an artwork, constant in essence but changing interpretation in every new light. Hob could imagine how many people over the centuries had had a fleeting encounter with him and come away changed, just as he had.

Dream hovered near him when they parted. Hob looked over to the painting again. No mere depiction could capture Dream in all of his colors, but it really was a rather good try. Van Dyck had gotten the depth of his eyes just right.

"The Baroque period suits you," Hob told him.

"Now who knows something about art?"

"I've picked up a few things over the years. I'm in love with the world's greatest artist, after all."

Dream moved in as if to kiss him, but paused to speak against Hob's mouth. "There are other works of me out in the world, if you care to seek them out."

"Don't open that challenge because I will do it," Hob informed him, quite seriously.

"I hope so." There was a sharp gleam in Dream's eyes. Hob could only imagine what kinds of paintings might inspire that look. "I look forward to seeing what you find."

#this is so like. specific to MY interests XD #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #the sandman #dreamling fic #i think about Dream and art a lot #and also Hob having random weird expensive stuff just casually in his flat #kinda wanted to use a more dramatic baroque artist for dream than van dyck but i just really like the way he does EYES and GAZES #also he worked in england so hob could have conceivably come across his work? idk #i don't actually know anything about art i just guesstimate #my writing

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taravangians-storming-balls · 10 months

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Kaladin's final smash in which he lashes mario directly into the atmosphere

#i drew half of this like a month ago and then finished it the night i made that smash bros post #and then promptly kept on not feeling like writing alt text but im doing it NOW #realistically kaladins final smash should be incredibly extra and dramatic but i think it would be funny if he just #taps whatever poor soul got trapped in attacks range on the shoulder and calmly sends them flying off the stage #perhaps this is szeths final smash actually lmao #stormlight archive #kaladin stormblessed #fanart #art #comic #cremposting #my-storming-posts #OH by the way there is something about kirby and kaladin that intrigue me ...#image id in alt text

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crunchchute · 8 months

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bonnie man

#crunchchute art #my art #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #springtrap #spring bonnie #fnaf movie #five nights at freddys #william afton #wanted to draw something with a dramatic light again #referenced a cosplay pic i took (for the colors and shading mainly but also the shape of the face)#spilled water over my keyboard writing this

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performapals · 2 months

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hi guys. hello

#my art #whyy is it so blurry. please click for better quality ig #dramatical murder #dmmd #aoba seragaki #sly blue #shiroba #desire dmmd #koujaku #clear dmmd #slyjaku #bluejaku #i would tag as kouao but im a ''not tagging sly as aoba'' truther <- system #if you need a transcript for any of the writing lmk. i dont feel like writing it rn tho ivs almost 4am

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blonndiec · 16 days

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I’m sticking with Yuri!!! On Ice for life and might sometimes feel like White Flag by Dido, now that everyone is saying it’s dead and bidding it farewell, but…

I will go down with this ship…

And I will keep writing fanfiction, even if no one comment or reads.

Will try to keep making illustrations, even if I currently suck and haven’t gotten back at 100% of my ability.

And I will keep supporting talented people, who are truly artists, that keep them alive with their craft and create new stories.

And will be a part of the fandom and be here for anyone who wants to keep Yuri!!! On Ice alive. To connect, to chat, to expand and grow YoI.

I won’t put my hands up and surrender, I’m in love and always will be 💖✨✨✨✨✨

#I’m so sorry I’m currently writing teenage Victor and that went extra dramatic #yuri on ice #yoi #victor nikiforov #victuuri #yuuri katsuki #katsuki yuuri #viktor nikiforov #viktuuri #yuri!!! on ice #yuri!!!on ice #I WILL DOWN WITH THIS SHIP #ao3 #Fanfiction #YoI fan art #Yuri on ice fanart #I’m a 90s kid and music revolves my life I’m sorry #don’t worry side of the fandom fighting for Ice Ado some of us will keep it alive #Spotify

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mumblesplash · 5 months

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man i’ve had pretty serious art block before in the past but it was always more a lack of inspiration/irl stuff draining all my energy, currently Not having art block but getting hit by my first bout EVER of feeling like i just straight up can’t make anything that’s good enough and oh my god how do people deal with this

#i have zero mental defenses against this bc it’s never happened to me #like i know i’m being stupid here bc i feel like everything ive ever drawn is somehow worse than anything anyone else has ever drawn #which first of all cannot possibly be the case bc art is subjective and also i’m not that special #and second of all ‘this means i’m bad at everything’ is not a reaction i have EVER had to art i consider ‘better’ than mine #i’ve always just been excited by the opportunity to learn how to do a new cool art thing i couldn’t do before #like what is happening here why did my brain broke #on the bright side this doesn’t seem to be even slowing me down from writing and drawing things and posting them anyway #but i could really do without the accompanying dramatics in the back of my head #‘you can’t post this you are an affront to art history and the whole of humanity’ shut Up brain it’s literally minecraft fanart for fun #anyway all this to say. thank you everyone being nice in the notes of my silly lil poems you’re gonna make me cry #mumbling

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caesarinsalata · 5 months

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[BLOOD WARNING!] PART 1

Strap in for another short read!

I was planning to wait to post this, but I'm curious how this will translate to people 🤔

Part 1: 5 years later

“Hohenheim! Where is Hohenheim?!”

King Xerxes punched the arm of his throne, coughing right after. His subjects frantically whispered amongst themselves. Wondering who last saw Hohenheim.

“Your highness! He’s here!”

Hohenheim came into the throne room escorted by a guard, not looking too happy.

“Hohenheim! You know I detest waiting.” Drumming his fingers.

Hohenheim sighs, stepping up to the base stair of the throne platform. “Yes, yes, I know, your highness. What was it that you needed? I’m very busy with many of your requests.”

The King exhales through his nose. “I’ll choose to overlook that tone. How close are we to immortality? I haven’t got forever, Hohenheim.”

Hohenheim clears his throat, wiping his hands on his clothes. He hated these updates the King forced him to report every other day like this sort of thing he was attempting to give him was achievable overnight. “Your Highness, we’ve been through this. It takes time to gather the resources and the science is complicated.”

“You’re-” The King coughs into the back of his hand. “You’re just making excuses! Where is that Dwarf? He knows a lot more than you and doesn’t make excuses!”

“Everything we know about this immortality nonsense is from him! Of course he’d know!” Hohenheim was getting frustrated with this whole immortality thing! At first he was all for helping The King, but the more information he gathered about this supposed immortality was just driving their King crazy. Crazier than he already was, he didn’t particularly favor their King as the years went on. Too many people were way too obsessed with this immortality thing once their age began to surface.

“Hohenheim.” The King suddenly stood up. “I’m tired of waiting.”

“The Dwarf has already told you how this will work! It’s bound to take a handful of years. Especially when you order the death of your own people from all across the country!” Hohenheim was getting irritated. Why did he go along with this make believe? No King should live forever regardless. Being in power had a nasty habit of corrupting people.

“Hohenheim! Have you forgotten your place? Need I remind you? I am your King!” The King had a coughing fit and sat back down. The nearby subjects inched closer in worry. Wheezing out the words, “I’m fine…” and glaring down at Hohenheim. Seeming to think of something devilish, he turned to his right hand guard. Glancing to Hohenheim. “I think you need a reminder…” Clapping his hands at the guard signaling him to leave.

“What does that mean? Your Highness, just be reasonable!”

“We’re passed that now, Hohenheim. You obviously need some inspiration and a reminder of your mortality.”

Hohenheim was just confused now.

Moments later the guard returned with an 11 year old holding his hand. It was Edward. But he wasn’t bothered to look up from his book he was holding in his other hand. He was guided to the middle of the throne room.

“Edward? Why is he here?” Only then, Ed looked up and around. Not really caring about whatever was going on right now. His gaze went from the King to Hohenheim then back down to his book. “Your Highness, he can’t be in here.”

“You’ve left me no choice, Hohenheim. You obviously haven't sacrificed enough yet to understand the gravity of what immortality will do for this empire!”

Hohenheim’s breath caught in his throat. “What are you planning to do?”

“Don’t worry, I won't kill your eldest son.”

“Wha-?” Hohenheim lurched forward but was stopped by the other guards. “Ed! Get out of here!”

Edward whipped his head up, startled by Hohenheim’s exclamation. Feeling the tension in the room, he was only able to tug at the guards hold on him. “What the- What the hells going on here?” Dropping his book when another guard grabbed his other ar. He fought against their hold to no avail. Guided to the ground, they held him down despite his kicking and cursing.

“Good timing too. You haven’t been teaching your boy proper manners. Proceed.”

“What are you doing??!!” Hohenheim fought against the guards holding him back, one of them elbowing him in the gut causing him to double over.

A guard unsheathed his sword and stepped closer to Edward.

Understanding the situation finally, Edward’s eyes grew wide. He was suddenly scared out of his mind. “Get that thing away from me! What the hell is this?!”

“Ugh,” The King groaned, leaning his head on his hand. “Children are nothing but annoying nuisances.”

The guard held the sword in both hands over his head. Edward could tell from his face he didn’t wanna do this. Whatever it was he was going to do to him, it wasn’t going to be anything good for Ed. He couldn’t hear Hohenheim yelling his name while he struggled against four guards. His heart throbbed in his ear.

This is bad.

He’s got to move.

He’s got to do /something/.

NOW!

Ed started to kick and scream more ferociously, startling the guard and throwing him off his aim. Depending on what he was actually aiming for, that is. The sword came down and all Ed could hear was his screams and the slice of metal getting clean through flesh and bone. He choked on his own tongue when the sudden pain sent a shock through him. A moment of silence passed over him before he sucked in as much air as possible, stifling a choked gasp and screamed from the top of his lungs. The guards had let go of him and backed away, guilt plastered all over their faces. His hands shot down to his dismembered leg. Trying to lift himself to see how bad it was, the color of deep red was all he could see. Everywhere. All over the place. Barely making out Hohenheim sprinting right at him, tears in his eyes. He lifted Ed's upper half up, desperately trying to keep him from passing out, but the shock and pain were too much for such a small boy to handle.

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rizaposting · 4 months

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i would also love to know more about your 03 project that i have seen you mention a couple times 👀 Is it something you are drawing or writing¿

Ahh! Man I wish I had more to show for it, but I've basically been thinking about it non-stop for the past several months. I wanted to get it started this year for the 20th anniversary but the latter half of 2023 was chaotic because I moved. o|-<

It's nothing too groundbreaking, just my attempt at reconciling what happened between the end of the anime to Roy deciding he was going to go be emo in the mountains, address what little we saw of them in CoS and how I think they would reconcile, and then also explore what their life together would look like afterwards...

I think it's going to be 3 multi-chapter pieces of writing with supplemental art. It's mostly Riza-focused (because she is my little el wiwi) but I also want to give Roy a fair shake and address the Crippling Mental Illness they both have refused to acknowledge. There will be plenty of angst and me putting Riza through Situations and making her the most miserable she's ever been in her whole life, but it's to highlight her character growth and experiences, and there will be a happy ending. Because I think making them struggle and suffer for nothing goes against FMA's themes, and I'm a sap and want Riza to get all the kisses in the world because she deserves them.

I don't have very much to show for it, but here's a half-finished WIP from way earlier in the year about Roy not wanting Riza to see his wounds

#THANK YOU for asking! ;w; I wish I had more to show for it but right now it mostly exists in my brain and in excited unorganized ramblings #answered asks #fma #fma03 #rizaposting #unnamed 03 royai project #Roy's eyepatch is so fucking big and there's 2 possibilities in my head:#1) archer really fucked his face up superficially (but failed to actually shoot him in a way that would kill him lmao get good IDIOT)#2) roy is being dramatic #i went with the former in this one and accidentally make him zuko #crystal art and writing #fic talk

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flowercrowngods · 3 months

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wip Wednesday time wahooooooooo!!

first I'd love some words from Tales of Blue (I LOVE THAT NAME!!!)

ask and ye shall receive, friend 🥰🤍 (also thank you!!)

who did this to you (pt.4) // tales of blue part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | read on ao3 🌷 preceding snippet

They stay like that, both just sort of frozen, like there is no point to them now that they’re not worrying, not fumbling, and only waiting. Waiting to move again. Waiting for colour. Waiting for Blue.

And Eddie wonders if there ever was a wanderer looking out at the sea of fog, and if he, too, was frozen like Buckley. If he started to shake, too, cast in that unreal kind of hue. If he knew how liminal he’d be until the end of time.

If Robin would be, too. If she’d wait for him until all she’d be is liminal, cast in the light of the morning that Steve claimed makes her sad. If she’d be aware of the tragedy she’s painted for herself.

If she already is. Or if the real tragedy is out there with his uncle, and they are just the ones who get to tell the story. Like Horatio, in the end.

Again, he wants to ask, wants to say something, his mind running away from him with all the stupid similes and images he’s painting, wringing his hands as he can’t stop them from spiralling, can’t stop watching his whole world shift and change while all he can do is wait.

#steddie #steddie fic #who did this to you #who did this to you part 4 #make me write ask game #eddie is spiralling but in a different way than before because he is exhausted and all the real thoughts have been thought so #now there is only art and literature to really capture how fucked up this situation is. because he still doesn't understand.#(also i'm just Sad this week sooo dramatic eddie is spiralling is where it's at)#(the thing is spiralling is always different when there's a stranger in your home and you don't dare to move bc you're alien)#(if you dont let your spirals venture into fucked up art you know then what are you even doing) (especially in the dark)

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