A Wiggly Boy

Art by Alai Ganuza

The fastest overnight delivery in the world! 🎁🦌💌🔔

Continuation of birthday drabbles for @penny00dreadful, prompt: crack (IM GONNA BE ON SCHEDULE FROM NOW ON)

“Steve,” Eddie whines, voice high and breathy and feverish, “please, my beloved, come closer.”

“I’m not burning dinner so I can check your forehead. It’s the same as it was twenty minutes ago.” Steve stirs the soup, and Eddie whines louder.

“I can see the light, dearest mine,” his boyfriend moans, and Steve hears the thunk as Eddie rolls off the couch.

Steve does not look up from the soup.

“Please,” Eddie sniffles, out of Steve’s line of sight, “bury me next to my uncle, under the apple tree so children might one day find joy upon my grave.”

“Wayne’s not dead.” Steve deadpans, lifting his face from the soup to grab the bread he’d bought on his way home, laying two slices out on a baking try and slathering them with butter, “and I think he might find issue with you saying—”

“Make my funeral be not a solemn affair,” Eddie goes on, interrupting him, “but a celebration of my life which was cut so very short.” He hacks a particularly dramatic cough, and Steve slides the bread under the broiler.

“Will do, babe.” Steve goes on, finding the strength to humor him, “I’ll make sure they play Megadeath as they lower you into the ground.”

“Traitor!” Eddie croons, “my most trusted beloved, betraying me so wholly as to play the turncoats tunes during my body’s final hours upon this earth!”

Steve pulls the soup from the burner, and takes two bowls from their cabinet. “Parsley on yours?”

Eddie pauses. “Only a little.”

Steve grabs the parsley from the fridge, and hears Eddie take another large breath.

“Make my gravestone read something honorable, please, my dearest. Have it commemorate my many great achievements. Slayer of Devils. Conquerer of Hells. Worshipper of fat asses.”

Steve pours the soup into bowls. Pulls the browned bread from the oven and takes it all to their small living room, where Eddie is still lying between the couch and the coffee table.

Eddie gasps when he sees him. “It is but an angel to carry me away! This must be the end! Please, my love, stay true to me and never bed another. My spirit could not bear it, even in death. It is my only request.”

Steve sets down their food. “Do you want to eat on the couch or the floor?”

Eddie scratches at his eyes. Then holds out a hand. “Help me?”

Steve hauls him up. Gently. Eddie’s still warm, despite the dramatic flair. His skin slightly clammy as Steve situates him, wrapping a blanket around his lap and placing the bowl in his lap. He goes in for a kiss, but Eddie ducks his head.

“Don’t wan’ you to get sick.” He sniffles, fishing a tissue from his sweatshirt. He wetly blows his nose.

Steve kisses him on the forehead instead. Gives him his soup, and joins him on their lumpy couch.

Eddie eats with his mouth open, his nose stuffed to hell, and swallows. “Thank you.” He sniffs. “‘S really good, Stevie.”

Steve hums. “What happened to dearest-mine? My love? Angel?”

Eddie laughs, and it turns into a coughing fit, and Steve has to hold his bowl of soup so it doesn’t spill all over his lap. Eyes watering, Eddie smiles. “Dearest-mine,” he begins, taking the bowl back, “my love, my angel, my one and only, thank you for the soup. How did you know this would be the only cure? My spirit will now never have to watch you bed another, for I will be able to stand by your side for many years to come with this delicious elixir of life.” Eddie leans into his side, and Steve kisses his temple.

“I love you too.” Steve murmurs.

Tag list✨: @hotluncheddie @hitlikehammers @hbyrde36 @littlewildflowerkitten @chaotic-waffle

@westifer-dead @perseus-notjackson @finntheehumaneater @theheadlessphilosopher @spectrum-spectre

@itsall-taken @marvel-ous-m @bookworm0690 @acasualcrossfade @transvampireboyfriend

(IM SORRY FOR TAGGING YALL TWICE IN ONE DAY AGAIN BUT LAST TIME PEOPLE SAID IT WAS OKAY SO)

saw some good trees yesterday

How Soft Pastels Bring Out the Warmth of the Sunset 🎨🌅

youth is a social contruct

saying "are you haunted? are you fucking possessed?" is my favorite way to express my taking issue with someone else's behavior. like brother you are acting so strange and unlike yourself that the only explanation is you are being tormented by a spirit of some kind.

semiaquatic secret agent

(via meanboysclub)