libraryofgage
Library Of Gage
I had all intents for this to not be a fandom blog. I'm sure you can see how well that turned out || AO3 || Header and icon by @gamanyne
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they left the party to smoke but now steve is info dumping about sports
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Mermaid Eddie !!
Hes so gorgeous I can't
Cluse up + sketch & reference + no lighting & background
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Okay, I'm back now, and I hope you don't mind me tagging people on this post so y'all can see the fic 🥺
@rogueddie, @strangersteddierthings, @matchingbatbites
I hope you enjoy lol
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The tattoo had hurt. Not as badly as demobats chowing down on him, but getting it on the very scar from said chow-down hadn't helped. But Steve had insisted, even when the tattoo artist made a concerned face at the scar tissue and explained why he might want to consider a different spot.
"Scar tissue is more sensitive, especially when it's less than a year old," the artist had said. "It might also warp the tattoo and prevent it from healing as quickly as it would in another spot."
Steve hadn't budged. He'd been polite about it, of course, but he hadn't let the artist talk him out of the placement. In the end, the artist had sighed, made sure Steve understood the potential complications, and promised to do her absolute best to make it look perfect.
And she had. Robin's second-hand concert zine of low-key, queer-friendly businesses from a friend of a friend who lived in the city didn't let him down. When he'd looked in the mirror at the shop, something warm and relieved and content filled his chest and settled there.
The heart was perfect, and so was Eddie's name in the Corroded Coffin font scrawled across a banner nailed to the heart. The tattoo artist had looked a little confused by that element, too, but Steve had easily explained himself.
Love can hurt. It can hurt to take someone into your heart, especially if the last few people have ripped themselves out of it like those bug things from Alien. But it was worth it. Steve doesn't mind hammering in the nails of Eddie himself if it means seeing him smile and hearing him laugh and feeling the guitar callouses on his fingers.
And now he has, in a way. Eddie is part of him, and that's so reassuring Steve thinks he might cry.
When he shows it to Eddie, he actually does cry. They're bitter tears, familiar, and he should have seen them coming as he pulls his shirt up to show Eddie the tattoo.
A few seconds of silence pass between them, and Steve doesn't say anything, figuring Eddie just needs a moment to fully process what he's seeing. And then Eddie is leaning closer on the couch, reaching out and brushing his fingers along the point of the heart.
"Oh, Stevie," Eddie whispers. Steve feels that happy contentedness in his chest grow, and then it's replaced by freezing cold paralysis when Eddie asks, "How could you do something so stupid?"
Steve blinks, wondering if he'd somehow heard wrong as Eddie pulls away. A ringed hand digs into slightly frizzy hair as Eddie gets off the couch, like he can't stand being less than two feet from Steve. "What?" Steve asks, his voice quiet and desperate.
"A tattoo?" Eddie says, whirling on Steve, his hand now tugging on his hair. "Those are permanent! How could you put my name on you forever?! What if someone sees it? What are they going to think when you have my name scrawled on your side? Did you think they would just be cool that Steve Harrington would have The Freak's name tattooed on him?!"
Something clenches painfully behind Steve's ribs, and he realizes it's his heart pulling tight, stretching to a breaking point that terrifies him. "I don't care about that," he says, finally lowering his shirt so Eddie doesn't have to see the tattoo that angers him so much. "I love you. I wanted to...express it, I guess."
"With a tattoo?! Why couldn't you get something normal? Something subtle? Like a fucking Corroded Coffin shirt. Or just take one of my rings. Or make a fucking love shrine in your closet or something that isn't tattooing my name in a fucking heart on your skin! That's never coming off, Stevie! It's there forever."
"That was kind of the point, Eddie," Steve says, hoping that, somehow, knowing Steve is in it, that he's committed to them, to who they can be together, to everything they can do, will make Eddie see the tattoo as the romantic gesture it is.
It doesn't. If anything, it makes things worse. Eddie's face scrunches up, his hand yanking hair in front of his mouth like he's going to start chewing on it. "You're so fucking optimistic, Stevie," Eddie says, his voice strained and making it clear that's a bad thing. "What if we don't work out? What if something goes wrong? What if I die? What if we end up fucking hating each other? And then what? You walk around with me fucking haunting you for the rest of your life? Do you know how stupid that would be? How it would fuck up your chance at future relationships?"
Oh. Has...has Eddie been thinking about breaking up? Has he been thinking about ways to do it? Steve feels that first crack in his heart, the pain even worse because it's the exact spot that first cracked with Nancy. It's the part of his heart that had happily chugged along, assuming they'd be together and happy and always like this. It's the crack of a cold, hard, unforgiving reality check from the very person he'd wanted that happy forever with.
Eddie is still talking, but Steve isn't hearing it. He's curling in on himself, arms wrapped around his stomach, one hand protectively covering where his tattoo rests.
Steve always does this, doesn't he? He always makes the sweeping, grand, romantic gesture right when it's all falling apart. It's like he's an unintentional masochist, making the pain of heartbreak that much worse for himself without meaning to. His endings can never be quiet and gentle; they're always violent and loud, broadcasting his inevitably self-inflicted hurt to the world.
For as happy as he was looking at the tattoo in the shop's mirror, that's how painfully his eyes are stinging and his throat is tightening and his stomach is roiling. Steve is drowning in it, suffocating, being dragged deeper and deeper until all he wants is to hide himself in Robin's shoulder and pretend the world doesn't exist.
He doesn't even realize he's actually started crying until a familiar, calloused thumb is gently wiping a tear from his cheek. Steve's vision focuses on Eddie, who somehow ended up on his knees in front of him, big brown eyes too gentle and concerned for the break-up that's about to happen.
"I'm sorry, Stevie," Eddie says, soft and gentle, "I didn't mean to make you cry, sweetheart."
This is worse. At least Nancy exploded at him, yelled and called him bullshit and didn't try to soften the final blow. Steve sniffs, forcing his eyes down. "Can you just get it over with?" he asks, his voice cracking.
"Get what over with, baby?"
The unintentional cruelty of making Steve spell it out almost has him laughing. "Just break up with me," he says, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "Don't try to make it nicer. Just do it."
A few seconds of silence pass before Eddie suddenly stands. He places his hands on Steve's shoulders, gently presses him back against the couch, and straddles his lap, trapping him there. "I am not breaking up with you," Eddie says, his tone firm and his words softening some of the ache in Steve's chest.
"It sounded like you were," Steve mumbles.
Eddie sighs, moving his hands to wrap around Steve's neck and gently tug on the strands of hair at his nape. "I just...I don't want you to regret that tattoo if something happens in the future. We can't be certain that you and I are gonna last forever. We could have the messiest gay break up the world has ever seen, and you'd be stuck with my name on your side."
"But...I love you now, Eddie," Steve says, frowning as his hands hesitantly settle on Eddie's hips. When they aren't pushed off, Steve holds a little tighter. "I don't care about the future; we can't predict it, or I wouldn't have been so surprised by the Upside Down. Can't...can't the fact that I love you now be enough?"
He looks up to see Eddie smiling, soft and a little dopey and so gentle that Steve's brain grinds to a brief halt. "Yeah, baby," Eddie says, leaning forward and pressing their foreheads together. "That's enough. More than enough. I'm sorry for reacting the way I did. Besides, I kinda like that you've got my name on you. Make's you mine. Maybe I'll get a matching tattoo someday."
Steve smiles, relief flooding through him. "Only if you want to," he says, just because he needs to, needs to make sure Eddie doesn't think a matching tattoo is expected.
"I know, Stevie. Only if I want to," Eddie promises, punctuating his words with a kiss. It's brief and chaste and reassuring and everything Steve needs it to be. "Now, how about I make us dinner tonight?"
"You're just gonna heat up the leftover casserole from Mrs. Henderson, aren't you?"
"I am going to heat up the leftover casserole from Mrs. Henderson, yes. But with love. And seductive looks from next to the microwave. And the promise of a very romantic diner burger for lunch tomorrow."
Steve snorts and playfully pushes Eddie off of him.
Steve getting 'Eddie' tattooed in a heart bc he thinks its cute and romantic. Eddie losing his mind over how bad he thinks that decision is bc what if something goes wrong or they just don't work out or
#steddie#steddie angst#steddie fluff#steddie fic#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve harrington angst#hurt/comfort#happy ending#i'm too baby for anything other than a happy ending actually lol#this was fun to write tho!#and longer than i expected lmao#anyway#my writing
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So I've noticed something and I don't know what to do with it.
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Steve getting 'Eddie' tattooed in a heart bc he thinks its cute and romantic. Eddie losing his mind over how bad he thinks that decision is bc what if something goes wrong or they just don't work out or
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... y'all know that I'm so fixated in Steve because I'm one of those freaks that relates to the Eddie side of steddie a little too much right? I'm not the normal silly Steve blog some of y'all seem to think I am. babes, I'm weird. I'm a weirdo. Have you ever seen me without this stupid hat on? that's weird.
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One year trusting the process
Here, a little redraw of the very first steddie piece I ever did.
When I say "trust the process", this is what I mean. It's not only through a piece, from idea, to sketch, to final version. It's trusting the process over and over again. It's trusting yourself. It's stop focusing on what other people do, for better or for worse, and just keep doing your thing. Keep doing what makes you happy.
Don't compare to other people's work. There's no growth in that. But compare to your past self. That's where growth and love resides.
I hope it's clear that when I say "trust the process" it's me begging you to love and celebrate yourself.
I did that with all of you and it's been an amazing fucking journey.
Thank you so, so much, to all of you.
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felt like drawing some stranger things characters in a new style
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