ordonpumpkin

Artist & writer I love a lot of things but it’s mostly Fantastic Four (especially Spideytorch) and Stranger Things (especially Steddie and Ronance) lately. ko-fi insta tiktok

[ordon-pumpkin]

Hi there! I’m ordon-pumpkin and I like to create art and sometimes write fanfics.

I have prints and stickers available on inprnt!

If you’d like to leave a tip check out my ko-fi page!

Art tag: ordonpumpkin art

Other socials: instagram tiktok youtube

Fanfics: Ao3

Commissions are currently closed

Note: I call them colored sketches because that is my style. I always use my sketches for line art. <3

[inflomora-art]

Knight!Eddie for @novacorpsrecruit 🖤

[archaicfauna]

I love the idea of Nancy slowly falling in love with Robin during their friendship and, with it, slowly realizing she’s attracted to women and then taking some time to figure out her sexuality before she confesses.

But I ALSO love the idea of Nancy being completely clueless about her sexuality for months of their friendship until she sees Robin in a baseball cap and a baggy tee shirt with the sleeves cut off on a random Tuesday and gets smacked with her sexual awakening so violently that she nearly passes out

[bluismie]

Oh. 𝙊𝙝.

[narcissene]

affirmations:

- it’s fun to be awake & in an upright position

- consciousness is a gift

- i CAN do this anymore

[justslightlyconfused]

That ‘comment on your a03 work’ email hits like a line of cocaine every time. unmatched dopamine increase. shoutout to everyone who leaves a comment on fics. you deserve the world

[ordon-pumpkin]

Not me getting into learning a new song on guitar. Vibing. Locked in. When I suddenly stop playing and shout “I’M COOKING!!!” Not because I was killing it on the guitar but because I did, indeed, start supper only to get distracted by the instrument and completely forget until that moment of realization.

But everything is fine. Don’t worry.

[adverbally]

Body of Years

Written for the @steddiemicrofic prompt “years” | wc: 444 | rated: G | cw: none | tags: canon divergent after s4, future fic, modern day, grumpy old men in love | title from the song by Mother Mother

———

The itch of nostalgia gets to Eddie sometimes. It sends him up the creaky attic stairs to pull a green Rubbermaid bin out of storage. Even among all the boxes they’ve accumulated through the years, it’s easy to find the right one. Steve’s neat handwriting on the side proclaims it to be full of “Eddie’s journals: 1986-1992.”

The notebooks weigh a ton, and Eddie isn’t as strong or as stable as he was in his youth, so he doesn’t bother trying to get them downstairs. He sits on a dusty camp chair, sweating in the early fall warmth, and is transported back in time.

As he flips through the pages, he remembers those days vividly. Snippets of song lyrics and melodies, often scribbled in the dark upon waking from a dead sleep. Little doodles of potential tattoos to replace the ones lost to scars and skin grafts. Plans for a new Hellfire campaign. Recipes for the simple meals Steve would cook and drop off for Eddie and Wayne. Movies that Steve recommended, songs that Steve liked, books that Steve had never read but needed to.

Eddie smiles at how soon his love for Steve becomes evident in his writing. Months before he put a name to the feeling, even longer before he dared to bare his heart to Steve, their mutual fascination already leapt off the page. It’s an unexpected blessing to have documentation of those days, now that he’s older and his memory isn’t as sharp.

He’s a few notebooks in, humming to himself as he rediscovers one of the first openly romantic songs he ever wrote for Steve, when his husband’s voice floats up from the main floor.

“You better not have broken a hip up there!”

“Nah, just my neck!” Eddie hollers back.

Steve’s snort is audible as he reaches the base of the ladder. “I’m not carrying you down. Your corpse will have to rot up here.”

Eddie catches the genuine worry on Steve’s face as he appears from the trapdoor. It quickly melts into mild exasperation, his very favorite of Steve’s expressions.

“I thought you were looking for the Halloween stuff,” Steve says with a roll of his eyes as he settles on the floor beside Eddie. “Not camping out on memory lane.”

Eddie sighs dramatically. “What could I do when the greatest love story the world has ever known is right here at my fingertips?”

“Oh, yeah? Whose?” His eyes sparkle when Eddie glares down at him.

“Can’t I be a sappy freak on our anniversary?”

“You’re my sappy freak all the time and I love it.” Steve squeezes his hand. “Come down, before our dinner gets cold.”

[shieldofiron]

In every universe they will wear silly work uniforms together.

[everythingismadeofclouds]

nancy and steve talking while they wait for robin to show up to like movie night or something. nancy casually drops "yeah i wish robin was a boy so we could date lol" and before steve has time to unpack that, robin arrives

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Just How It's Gonna Be

Prompt #3 - TV Tray | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Pre-Steddie, Dustin & Erica | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Has Lots of Help, Steve Made Sure Of It, Scoops Troop Forever

"Here," Dustin says, unfolding the little metal legs of the TV tray. It has My Little Pony on it. It barely squeezes down over his thighs. 

Eddie raises an eyebrow.

"From Erica. Shut up," Dustin hisses, making sure the tray is at least somewhat level over Eddie's lap. Putting down a spoon.

Eddie isn't sure how Henderson got babysitting duty today, but it's better than Gareth, he supposes. Gareth wants him up and walking yesterday and won't take no for an answer. Forcing Eddie to shuffle along the hallway of the rental house. 

And Eddie know he means well, but everything still fucking hurts.

So, no thank you. He's gonna sit in bed for a while longer. Physical therapy will come later. Probably not professional, but Eddie knows Steve's developing a plan of attack.

Eddie's only a little concerned.

"Yeah, are you making fun of Applejack?" Erica hollers from the doorway, and Eddie grins. He didn't know she was here. 

"Never," Eddie argues. At least she didn't call him a—

"—nerd."

Well, scratch that.

She brings over a bowl of soup and a grilled cheese sandwich, setting it down right on the colorful metal surface. The sandwich is only a little burnt, and is cut into four little squares, with cheese oozing out.

He's happy to see both of them. Steve is running a tight ship on who gets to help take care of him. Hell, Gareth only got clearance a couple weeks ago. So two more new faces is nice. He thinks that must mean he's doing better. 

That, or Henderson just annoyed the fuck out of Steve until he relented.

"Thank you for sharing your toys with me, m'lady," Eddie says, picking up the spoon Dustin had brought him. It's harder than he'd like it to be. It still shimmies in his hand, shaking as he tries to guide towards the bowl of what he assumes is Campbell's tomato soup.

He grips his wrist with his other hand, his better hand, and tries to steady it. He could just try to learn to eat with his left hand, but he wants to play guitar again, so his fucking right hand has to cooperate. That's just how it's gonna be.

It's gotta learn how to work again.

Eddie would be embarrassed, but he's been poked and prodded, and seen at his weakest ever since the bats gnawed the shit out of him. This is nothing in comparison. Showing a little weakness to two kids that love him, for some insane reason, is barely a blimp of embarrassment.

Nothing like Wayne and Steve bathing him after bringing him home from the hospital. That had to be the last true embarrassment he had. Steve Harrington carefully wrestling him onto a bath chair, and then holding him steady in the tub while Wayne scrubbed his back was just the final straw of privacy. Even if Steve had laid a wet washrag over his crotch. Like that was gonna make it all better, and more normal.

It certainly was not.

Steve clucking about Eddie's wounds, still not healed, even after being released from the hospital. Bandages were changed. Creams and lotions applied. Medications carefully administered.

A watchful eye that hardly ever left his sight. 

It was weird, until it wasn't. Now, Steve's just part of his daily routine. And Steve can bathe him all by himself, trusting that Eddie will be able to hold onto the chair while Steve scrubs and rinses his hair.

Tomorrow is bath day again, and Eddie knows he's getting a little ripe. All the deodorant in the world just won't cover it up. Not totally.

Maybe soon he'll graduate to standing in the shower all by himself, but that day just isn't here. Not quite yet.

Today, he eats while Henderson and Erica argue just to hear their heads rattle.

"You little shits had better have taken good care of him," Steve snaps, breezing into the room, dropping his jacket on Eddie's desk. Well, in theory it's Eddie's desk. He's never sat there, not for a minute. It's Steve domain right now. Hell. Most of the room is Steve's domain.

In the early days, while Wayne was working overnights, Steve would lay out a sleeping bag on the floor, staying close, for when Eddie was bound to wake up from the nightmares. These days, he's graduated to his own bedroom. Mostly. 

This house has three of them, and it didn't take long for Eddie to realize Steve had just moved on in.

"Jeez, way to have faith in us," Dustin whines, and Steve ruffles his hair, pulling him close.

"Lunch was edible?" Steve inquires. 

Erica has her hands on her hips, and Eddie is absolutely certain there's only one answer to that question:

"Fantastic. Erica made pie," Eddie says, and she nods, as if he's passed the test she was administering. 

Steve nods, and sits on the edge of Eddie's bed, hand curling around Eddie's blanket-covered shin, squeezing.

It's nothing. And everything.

There's been no moves made. But Eddie feels like maybe there might be whenever Eddie's back on his feet again.

It's a good motivation to keep getting stronger. 

"I rented some movies—"

"—yes!" Dustin interrupts.

Steve ignores him.

"Adult movies."

"Ew," Dustin adds, and Steve is clearly getting frustrated, waving his hands.

"Jesus. Not like that. Just not for children," he clarifies, and Eddie tries to bite back his smile, just letting Steve continue to dig this hole for himself.

Steve sighs.

"I brought your own tapes. Take them and go," Steve finally says, defeated. He always gives into them, and honestly, Eddie loves that he does. They're good kids.

"You're not gonna give us a ride?" Henderson whines. Eddie knows how this ends. Of course Steve's gonna shuttle them around.

Steve looks at Eddie, tilting his head, then squeezes his leg once more, before grabbing his jacket, herding the two kids away, towards his car.

"I'll be right here awaiting your imminent return!" Eddie shouts.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[keeryquinn]

Going Steddie ❤️

[sunnywheeler]

NANCY WHEELER AND ROBIN BUCKLEY IN STRANGER THINGS: 4x03 & 5x01

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Can't Roll Back Time

Prompt #15- "Calgon, Take Me Away!" | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Chronic (Canon) Injuries | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Eddie & Corroded Coffin | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, And Is Living His Dream, It's Not Easy, But Easier With His Friends

The water is still warm.

It'd been on the verge of too hot when he'd sunk into the tub. Now, Eddie lifts his leg out of the water, knee breaking the surface, displacing the remaining bubbles. The tub in his hotel room is huge, bigger than any he's ever seen, and there's a spectacular view out the windows. 

A mountain range, all blues and greens and whites.

This is relaxation.

The door to his room bangs open, then closes again.

He squeezes his eyes shut. He spoke too soon. 

Gareth bounds into the bathroom, and perches himself on the large edge of the tub.

"You taking a bath?" Gareth asks, stating the obvious. 

"No, making soup," Eddie snarks dryly, folding his washcloth, placing it over his eyes. He just wanted an hour to relax. To maybe work some of the knots out. The tour is killing him. His whole body aches. He's stiff in places he didn't even know he could be.

Sure, he knew it'd be hard. He knew that he'd have limitations after the bats. He knew that. He did. And yet. He may have vastly overestimated his readiness for months on the road. It's harder than he ever expected it might be.

Their first album exploded. It was wholly unexpected, and happened by word of mouth, a snowball effect. They were nobodies. Unprepared for what was about to happen to them. Eddie's raw hurt and anger at what had happened to him somehow spoke to the masses in a way he couldn't have predicted.

It was supposed to be his catharsis. His letting go.

Instead, it was a rocketship he strapped himself to, unwittingly. 

Now, he's feeling the pressure. The label already wants a second album. Eddie doesn't have a second album. It took him five fucking years to write this one. They weren't even a band anymore. But Eddie called them, his friends, with all the songs already penned, just because he just wanted to get them on tape. 

Jeff suggested renting a studio for a few hours, and that wasn't a bad idea. Eddie had the money. The settlement was a nice little nest egg he'd squirreled away. So, they recorded them. All professional-like. In over their heads, but having fun, nonetheless.

And Eddie figured that was that. They shopped it around, just for fun, and found a taker willing to release it, promote it.

Willing to pay them.

Now, here they are.

The old saying that you have a lifetime to write your first album, but only have six months to write your second, is no fucking joke. But Eddie's not pushing himself, no matter what the label wants. Not right now. Eddie wrote the first one with raw fucking feelings, chronic pain, and a pen.

Until he has something else worthwhile to say, he's not saying shit. If they are one and done, so be it. This is already more than he could have ever dreamed, even in his wildest dreams.

His knee starts to shake, a familiar tremor going through his hamstring. Eddie reaches for it, but Gareth's hands beat him to the punch. 

Squeezing, working the indented skin, where muscle is missing underneath. At first, just living through the ordeal seemed like he'd won. It wasn't until long after that he realized what exactly he'd still lost.

And it was substantial.

"Thanks," Eddie says, and he hears the door open again. "Calgon, take me away," he mutters under his breath, but he's not annoyed. Not really.

He lifts an edge of the washcloth, peeking out. Goodie. Finding a spot on the other side of the tub.

"Taking a bath?" he asks, and Eddie laughs.

"Making soup," Gareth corrects. 

"I already ate," Goodie says, fingers skimming the water, flicking some in Gareth's direction, and it makes Eddie laugh.

"Where's—"

And the door opens and closes a third, and hopefully final, time.

"—Jeff."

"We're having Eddie soup," Goodie says, filling Jeff in as he adds to the crowd. Eddie hadn't realized bathing was a spectator sport.

"Are you okay?" Jeff asks, finally saying what they must all be thinking to have gathered in this way, "Do we need to adjust the schedule? We can. We can do anything we want."

They can't adjust the schedule. Tickets have been sold. But they can't keep going like this. No, Eddie can't keep going like this. The rest of them are fine. They're still young, and in one piece.

"Do you think Ozzy would sue us if we incorporated a throne into our stage show?" Gareth asks, and Eddie hadn't considered that as an option. He can't imagine sitting, but that honestly might help. Even if he only does it half of the show. 

If he only uses it when he really needs it.

"He doesn't own the concept of a chair," Goodie says dryly.

Eddie's been very open about his limitations. Obviously, he couldn't say he got attacked by bats from hell, but with his lyrics? There's no question that he's been through some shit. The scars are evident. Especially the ones on his face, his neck. 

The long, jagged one across his jaw. 

There's no running from those. 

He's scarred, inside and out.

But the guys are always ready to help him through it. He upturned their lives, even if he never intended to. He couldn't have predicted anybody would hear this album when he called them to help record it.

Partly, just wanting to see his friends. Partly, because he couldn't imagine anyone else knowing all these personal things about him.

Jokes on him. Now, the world knows.

They're on a tour, Eddie's heart wide open for consumption, while Eddie's body is revolting. All the physical therapy in the world can't replace muscle. Can't erase scars.

Can't roll back time, to before the bats.

Eddie rests his head against the cool porcelain.

"We can see about a chair," he relents, knowing that they will take care of it. Take care of him. Always.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiemicrofic.

goes easy

July Prompt: Years | Word Count: 444 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Lingering Upside Down Physical Disabilities | POV: Eddie | Tags: Future Fic, Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Reconnecting, Confident & Flirty Steve

His cane digs into the grass, the rain overnight making the ground a little soft for Eddie to navigate easily. Nothing goes easy for him, so he expected nothing less. At least it has cleared off for the day, leaving the sun warm on his back.

Eddie truly never thought he'd be back here. In this town. Hell, in this state. He bailed before the stitches came out, putting it all behind him as much as he could.

Now, he's thirty-three, sometimes feeling eighty-three. 

The days are often long, but he'll never take them for granted.

He's not sure how Henderson even tracked him down, but he did, and when Eddie opened his mail to find the wedding invitation, he decided he wouldn't ignore it. Henderson went to the trouble to find him, and well, the least he could do is show up.

The kid's getting married.

It's a big crowd, and Eddie hopes he'll blend in. Go unnoticed, even. It's hard, his cane draws the eye, and there's nothing he can do about that. 

Sometimes, you can't get the things you lost back.

His muscles, those tendons. His good name. If he ever had such a thing. Because sometimes — well, sometimes things just stay fucked.

Eddie slides into the last row of white chairs, laying his cane over his lap.

The wedding was nice. Henderson looks happy and healthy, so in love with his beautiful bride. Eddie picks at a slice of cake at a back corner table, alone.

A hand grasps his shoulder, "You cut your hair."

Eddie looks up, smiling. Steve Harrington. He hasn't seen him in years. Over a decade.

"Steve Harrington," Eddie says, and Steve's hand slides down Eddie's arm before clutching Eddie's hand in an awkward grasp that maybe once wanted to be a handshake. Steve sits, and Eddie turns in his chair the best he can, facing him. 

Steve rests his chin on his hand, elbow on the table, staring at Eddie. Grinning.

"What?" Eddie asks.

"You look so different," Steve says.

"You don't," Eddie banters back, and Steve waves him off. Even with a couple threads of gray at his temples, Steve still looks like he always has. 

"How's life?" Steve asks.

"Honestly? Really good," Eddie answers, and Steve's smile somehow widens.

"That's good. Married? Kids?" Steve asks.

Eddie shakes his head, "Nope. Nobody. How many of these kids are yours?"

Steve laughs, "None. Still single and ready to mingle. Maybe I'll connect with somebody interesting here," Steve says, dragging his finger through the icing on Eddie's plate, sucking his finger into his mouth. Eyes never leaving Eddie's.

Fuck. Maybe things can go easy for him.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemicrofic and follow along with the fun! ❤️

[runninriot]

to everyone else in the room

written for week 2 of the @steddiemicrofic july challenge

prompt: years | wc: 444 | rated: T | tags: post Vecna, Eddie lives but no one knows, Steve refuses to give up hope despite everything, second chances, open/ambiguous ending | also on ao3

To everyone else in the room, he’s just a guy on a stage. To Eddie, he is a harsh reminder of the reality he’s spent years trying to forget. A memory he never completely managed to erase, now suddenly breaking free from where it’s been locked away. Flooding him all at once with the sorrow and pain of another lifetime he never got to fully live.

   “Hey, uh,” the guy says and clears his throat. “This is a song about missing something you never really had.”

On the first strum of his guitar, his eyes fall shut, like maybe it’s easier for him to pretend that he’s alone in the room. And then he sings, lips caressing the mic as they spill bittersweet words that feel like they were taken straight from Eddie’s own heavy heart.

It's unfair how at ease he looks despite the melancholy he carries through the melody he plays, the softness of his features clashing so violently with the image that's been imprinted on Eddie’s mind.

Because the last time Eddie saw him, he was dressed for war. With deep worry lines on his face, wearing a scatter of barely healed scars and bruises from earlier battles like medals of dishonour, determined to fight and win no matter the cost.

The last time he heard his voice, it almost got lost in the ringing echo of another, choked-up and trembling with anger, before it faded into a pleading whisper against his ear.

    ‘Stay with me,' he'd begged but Eddie couldn’t make that promise.

Not because he didn’t want to but because they wouldn’t let him. Patched him up and shipped him off to bumfuck nowhere. New identity, new start, new chance at life – that’s what they promised him in return for his silence.

It’s been so long.

But here he is, Steve, and it feels like not a day has passed since they last stood across from each other, despite the years so clearly visible on both their faces. One singing about loss, the other finding himself again after all this time drifting through a life that wasn’t his.

The song ends on a when not an if, like a happy ending is inevitable.

And finally, their eyes meet.

To everyone else in the room, the guy smiling back at him is just one in a crowd of many. To Steve, he’s the missing piece to a life that never felt complete without.

There he is, Eddie, with tears in his eyes but alive. Just like Steve never gave up believing he was.

And now that he’s finally found him, he won’t let him slip through his fingers again.

[bari-artist]

california girls driving meme