Pink/Alex

Alex | they/them | 26 | 🇮🇹| i study molecular biology and sometimes i draw (and rig VTuber model

[pink-luna-moth]

hi guys

hey, you can call me Pink or Alex (or any variation of my user), my pronouns are they/he, and i'm a 24 year old nerd from italy.

i study molecular biology and in my free time i draw (mainly what i'm hyperfixating about at that moment) and crochet.

feel free to drop an ask or a suggestion about what i can draw (but don't expect it to be done cause i might not have time)

if you want to support me here is my ko-fi

masterlist of my art down below

stranger things:

steddie art collab with june

Lost in me lost in you steddie big bang

classical music steddie

eddie Frank'n'Furter animation

Kas!eddie

stranger things vtuber rigs

eddie vtuber rig

chrissy vtuber rig

eddie realism practice

other:

small animation practice

halloween doodles

[pearynice]

Nothus—Project 050 for the Steddie Big Bang

I am so excited to announce that I have been paired with the incredibly talented @pink-luna-moth for the 2025 Steddie Big Bang 🤩 I’m so honored they chose my fic 🥰

Snippet below the cut!

Eddie never found much interest in these shows of strength. Of cunning or wits or bravery or whatever virtue these events are supposed to reveal.

He finds them tedious, and slightly barbaric, what with the deaths that naturally came from dumping six dozen men and women armed to the teeth in one arena.

It wasn’t supposed to be a fight to the death, participants were supposed to tap before it got to that point, but that counted on anyone actually tapping. It counted on the opponent listening. It was not uncommon, therefore, for Eddie to see five bodies fall only moments after the gong was first rung, their already lifeless eyes staring straight up and into the scorching sun above.

Nancy, to his right, leans forward in her chair, the leathers that bind her forearms creaking as she rests them against her knees. This was, and, Eddie assumes, always will be, where she thrives. It is what Nancy revels in, these displays of battle that she, as royalty, is forbidden to partake in.

“Damn it,” Tommy mutters, to his left, scribbling something down as another man falls, “I had thirty pieces bet on him.”

Eddie’s lips twitch. “You’re still betting on these games?” He keeps his gaze forward as he asks, as the least he can do is feign his attention as the men and women of their kingdom die in front of them.

Tommy kisses his teeth, and Eddie hears more frantic scribbling. “Rick told me he was a shoe-in.”

Eddie keeps his face neutral only due to his years of practice. “Tommy,” he mutters, trying to keep his lips still, “Rick swindled you.”

Tommy stops scribbling.

A man slams his shield against a woman’s head, and Eddie can hear her skull crack from his seat three dozen feet away.

“How the hell would Rick know that?” Eddie asks, his gaze still ahead, “and why would he tell you?”

Next to him, Tommy says nothing, and Eddie risks a glance to his half-brother, who’s staring down at his scribbled mess of notes like Eddie has just upended his understanding of this game entirely. “Rick--” Tommy starts, weak and half-hearted, and, unable to hold back his smile now, Eddie interrupts.

“Is a sharper,” Eddie finishes for him. “You deserve this, if you didn’t already know that.”

An arrow lodges itself in someone’s throat, and they stumble, gurgling on their own blood for several seconds, before collapsing.

There are only about three dozen left, now, not counting the half dozen more on the ground, alive, by the looks of them, but certainly out of the game. The low-borns die first, unfortunately, their armor lesser, their weapons duller, more brittle, haven’t been trained in combat, and are looking for ways to prove themselves to a society that has always looked down upon them.

Eddie can relate to that.

Tommy grumbles something under his breath, then calls for a servant, and shoves the papers into her hands, telling her to dispose of them. He crosses his arms petulantly over his chest when she carries them off, and Eddie can’t keep the smirk from his face.

“Betting is just fun for me, you know,” Tommy hisses, “but a gambler is all you could ever hope to amount to.”

Eddie tilts his head at him, still facing the dead and dying. “Ah, but at least I’ll be rich.” His smirk grows, knowing his brother’s eyes are still on him. “As I won’t be getting swindled by gentlemen of four outs.”

Tommy snarls, a truly pathetic sound in the face of the grunts and cries of those in front of them, but Nancy cuts him off.

“Ignore him.” Unlike her brother, Nancy’s tone is of bored disinterest. “An untitled bastard isn’t worth your breath.”

Tommy falls silent, a smile now playing on his lips like their sister’s words have hit their mark, like after twenty-three years Eddie hasn’t grown a skin thick enough for untitled bastard to pierce.

The three sit in silence as the rest of the men and women fall, the sand beneath their feet turning pink, and then crimson, and then a dark, coppery brown under the deluge of bodies that fall, until there are only two left.

One is a man about Eddie’s height. There’s a cut flowing crimson down the side of his face, cloaking his shoulder in blood. He wears leather armor, iron studding across the chest and down its sides, along its skirt and across his hips, chain mail just peeking out under its hem. He carries a sword in one hand and a shield in the other, his face not betraying the pain he must be in.

The other is a man far bigger than Eddie’s ever challenged himself. He wears thick, iron armor, battered and dented, but unpierced. He carries a mace, caked in gore, dragging at his side.

This, Eddie fears, will be brutal.

The larger man swings his weapon, much quicker than Eddie would’ve expected from a man of his size, but still the man in leather is quicker. He ducks, mace still airborne, and in one sure stroke brings his sword down on the other’s undefended ankle.

The man howls, his swing turning wild, his bulging arm stuttering, making his mace land brutally against his own side.

The resulting ring of metal on metal has Eddie wincing, but the larger man only sways under the blow, his leg now bleeding freely.

The swordsman leaps away, clearly relying on his speed as the one with the mace turns to face him again.

It’s a death by a thousand cuts.

It’s brutal. And bloody. The swordsman is fast, his instincts spot on, and he takes advantage of every opening his slower opponent gives him with severe, slicing blows.

But he cannot out-pace the mace-wielder forever.

Eddie sees it coming before it happens, the swordsman isn’t quick enough, his feet slide in the viscera under his boots, and the mace connects. It’s a glancing blow, connecting only with his left side, but the weapon tears through his armor, almost certainly breaking bones, and Eddie’s grip on the arms of his chair tightens until his nails twinge.

Eddie shouldn’t have favorites. Should not cheer for one over the other, should only care that the best of them wins, but he feels himself cheering for the swordsman, biting his tongue to not scream for him to stand.

He almost doesn’t recover in time. The swordsman struggles for long moments even to get to his hands and knees, blood dripping from his lips as he regains his breath, and Eddie can feel his eyes widen in terror as the mace-wielder grins, his eyes bright, his swing rearing back to deliver his final, death-dealing blow.

It is over, Eddie thinks. He is dead.

He doesn’t know why this fills him with such disappointment.

The mace-wielder screams, a battle cry, and the swordsman blinks.

He looks up, and for a second, for half of a moment, he locks eyes with Eddie. Blood covers his face, his chest, and yet still, despite it all, there is fight in his eyes.

When his opponent’s swing is at its zenith, at the final moment he has, the swordsman spins, and drives his weapon deep into the mace-wielder’s groin.

Now, the mace falls.

The huge man bellows, deep and agonizing, and falls to his knees. Blood is running in thick rivers across the dirt, and the swordsman wrenches his weapon out only to drive it between the slats of his opponent’s helmet.

The screaming ends. There’s a wet crack, a gurgle, and when the swordsman removes his weapon, the larger man falls into a heap on the bloody dirt.

For one frozen moment, there is no noise. There is only the swordsman, and the bodies at his feet.

Then the stands erupt.

Screams and cheers at a battle fairly won, at the entertainment for the day, at the blood lust now satiated, until their father stands, grinning his wide, kingly smile to walk to the edge of their platform. His dark hair is slicked back with oil, making his curls stick slickly to his scalp. He’s clad in his gold and purple finery, intricately embroidered tunic with the crest of his house emblazoned upon the back.

“Congratulations!” His father booms, and the crowd quiets at the voice of their king. He opens his arms, and the bloodied swordsman stumbles forward, falling to his knees in submission at the foot of his king, head bowed low. “You have won the munera,” King Cunningham announces, “a title that will honor you for the remainder of your days.”

A servant to his father’s left hastily carries over the heavy golden medal, bowing low as she hands it off.

His father accepts it before turning back to face the man. “Stand,” he commands.

With great effort the man does, a grimace crossing his face as he braces his palms against his knees to obey his king’s order.

His father bends, letting the heavy medal fall around the victor’s neck, his fingers coming away scarlet as he does.

“Three cheers!” His father roars, “for our champion!”

The crowd explodes once again, ringing Eddie’s ears as Nance and Tommy join, holding up their fists, and Eddie follows to do the same, his eyes never leaving the blood still flowing down the champion’s face.

He looks dizzy on his feet, swaying slightly as the crowd cheers, stomping their feet and ringing their cowbells and screaming into the afternoon air.

His father, eventually, silences them, extending his arms and splaying out his hands until the stands hush, until he can once again speak and be heard.

“Now,” his father says, and Eddie sits along with his siblings as his father speaks, “you are to be rewarded.” Eddie can’t see his face, but he knows exactly how his father is grinning, wide and gleaming, soaking up the raucous applause like it was always meant for him. “What do you desire, my champion?”

The swordsman sways again, and for a moment Eddie thinks he’s about to collapse, thinks he’s finally lost consciousness, but then Eddie sees he is dropping to one knee, burying his sword deep into the dirt at his side.

“I wish only to serve the royal family, my king.” The swordsman’s voice is low, deep and rumbling. “To be the one who protects my prince from evil. To be his faithful guard.” He glances up, and for the second time that day, his gaze lands on Eddie. “To protect him from all harm that should come upon him.”

Eddie’s gaze darts to his left, to Tommy, certain he is seeing things, unbelieving that this man just called him prince.

But Tommy is already staring at him, his gaze hard like Eddie has done this on purpose, has stacked this game so a man with his favor could win.

His father laughs, deep and joyful. “Well of course,” his father says, “anything to keep my son safe.” His gaze falls behind him, undoubtedly thinking how Eddie had. “Thomas,” his father calls, his hand beckoning, and Tommy stands just as the swordsman speaks again.

“I apologize, my king.” His head is bent low again, his gaze on the dirt as the cut on his face continues to ooze blood. “I should have made my intentions more clear. I wish only to be the personal guard of Prince Edward.”

A hush, pervasive and chilling, falls over the stands. Never, in Eddie’s twenty-three years, has anyone ever called him by the title of prince.

Eddie feels a chill in his blood, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as every bone in his body screams of the trap that this must be. Why else would one do this? Go through this? For him?

He resists the urge to glance to his sister, to see if Nancy is smiling, to see if this was her plan to be rid of him all along. Convoluted, sure, but not out of the question. His sister is a general, would’ve hand-picked the best, would’ve picked the one that could win, could assassinate Eddie under the guise of protector.

His father’s hand falls back to his side. He spares Eddie a glance, brief, but withering, before staring back down at the champion. “But of course.” His father recovers, but his tone has lost that joyful edge, his tone now flat. “Whatever our champion desires.”

The king turns, beckoning Eddie forward, and on unsteady feet Eddie walks to his father’s side, the whole of the kingdom’s eyes on him.

The man’s gaze never leaves the earth in front of him, his head bowed low, and Eddie watches as more drops of blood fall to the earth.

He doesn’t react as his father belows more praises, goes on and on regarding the value of honor and bravery, which is rich coming from him, with his bastard son at his side, and only when the gong sounds, signaling the end of the munera, does the champion’s gaze raise to meet Eddie’s own.

His eyes are large, deep brown and framed by long eyelashes, his right already swelling to a puffy, burning red.

He needs a healer. He needs someone to clean and suture his wounds.

Eddie resists the urge, again, to look to his sister, to see if her gaze can hold the answers he seeks: why this man is here. Why this man risked death for this.

For him.

The man bows low again, and never once in his life has Eddie ever been bowed down to, and yet here this man is, barely able to stand and bowing deep, his shoulders shaking with the effort.

“Rise,” Eddie says, with as much confidence as he can muster, unused to giving commands. Unused to, even more, in giving commands that are followed.

But the victor rises, trembling, and Eddie clasps his hands together in a gesture he hopes reads as pensive. “What is your name?”

The man breathes raggedly, blood collecting at the corners of his mouth. “Steve,” he wheezes, and then after another inhale, adds, “Harrington.”

*****

Beta work done by the endlessly gifted @hbyrde36 💗💕

[pink-luna-moth]

Art exchange for @arelliann

Hope you like it 💕

Also thank you to the @steddiebbang mods for organising this

[dame-zoom-a-lot]

banner art by @runraerun

Claw My Heart And Hope To Live CH 7

“Should have stayed with the Centipede Daddy,” Eddie grumbles, “it wouldn’t put me out to die in the cold at the crack ass of dawn.” “If by crack ass of dawn, you mean eight, then sure,” Steve says easily. “And would Centipede Daddy do this?” He grabs Eddie’s wrist and raises his arm up high so he can lick a long line down Eddie’s left armpit. --- Or, with Vecna defeated, the boys have nothing left to do but be the most disgustingly in love couple alive

The final epilogue chapter is up here on Ao3. This fic is rated Explicit.

Chapter tags: Tooth-rotting fluff, epilogue, aquarium date, the tyranny of morning people

Here's the final epilogue chapter! Thank you again @jo-harrington for being an amazing beta and continued writing buddy. If you liked the violence and monsteriness of this fic and wanted something a little angstier, you'll love her Van Helsing AU: As Above, So Below.

And if you liked the fluff of this epilogue, check out @pink-luna-moth's great art of the boys and mistletoe

Thanks again to @eddiemunsonbigbang for organizing this event. The mods were fantastic, so responsive and on the ball about everything. I'm so glad this was my first big bang.

If you're looking for some more fantastic Eddie BB fics to read, I've been lucky enough to get some sneak peeks at the below works and I'll have you know that they're excellent:

1. @alwaysurvalentine's Phazes

2. @jo-harrington's Luminous Beings

3. @fkinkindagauche's PANDO

4. @runraerun's Courage, You Little Shit

5. @lady-lostmind 's Dead But Not Gone

[dame-zoom-a-lot]

banner art by @runraerun

Claw My Heart And Hope To Live CH 4

Skin shreds. Muscles rip. Pain. We promise no more pain. If I just step back into the fold. But I… Once there was an I. And I ran from other packs and I hunted the bats and I huddled with my pack and I pretended not to sense when a little one hid their treats in a small hole. And now I walk away from comfort, from clarity, from we. --- Or, Vecna waits for no one, not even true love

The fourth chapter is up here on Ao3. This fic is rated Explicit.

Chapter tags: Canon typical violence, creature whump, the upside down creatures have a bad time, light bondage, edging

This fic is complete and is about 23k words. It'll update every Tuesdays and Saturdays until March 1st.

Thank you @jo-harrington for the great beta! If you liked the monsterfucking and bondage in this chapter, you'll probably like her fic Pwdre Ser. It's hot and funny and lodged into my brain

And if you liked the bondage in this chapter, I recommend gazing on this team's artist @pink-luna-moth's great art of Eddie in shibari bondage <3

[dame-zoom-a-lot]

banner art by @runraerun

Claw My Heart And Hope To Live CH 3

Uncle Wayne was right. Honestly, it’s kind of annoying how right he always is. Eddie went from fighting off at least five waves of monsters per day to maybe one wave every other day. It gives him a lot of time to think. About what he’s going to do after this. About his band mates and whether they’d believed all the murder accusations. About… Steve Harrington. -- Or, the plot is politely asked to wait while the boys figure their shit out

The third chapter is up here on Ao3. This fic is rated Explicit.

Chapter tags: First Kiss, Fluff, Canon Typical Violence

This fic is complete and is about 23k words. It'll update every Tuesdays and Saturdays until March 1st.

Thank you @jo-harrington for the beta! If you liked all the Eddie wrangling in this chapter, you may like her Steddie Fic Eddie Universe.

And this chapter has @pink-luna-moth's art! You may also like his other Steddie stargazing art

[pink-luna-moth]

The boys deserve a soft picnic in between all the monster fighting

Thank you so much @dame-zoom-a-lot for this incredible story and letting me draw a monster Eddie with incredibly floofy hair

[dame-zoom-a-lot]

banner art by @runraerun

Claw My Heart And Hope To Live

Death would be a kindness. Eddie’s only regret is that Dustin found him bleeding out, so far gone that it didn’t even hurt anymore. Eddie could see his body spasm as his lungs rattled. Then there was finally nothing. At least… there was supposed to be nothing. -- Or, Death makes Eddie repeat life to go kick Vecna’s ass. Fortunately, he’s not alone

My entry for @eddiemunsonbigbang is finally posting! I had so much fun working on this piece, especially after I met some incredible people through sprinting together, beta-ing, and generally freaking out about getting words onto paper.

This fic could not have been anywhere as good without my beta @jo-harrington who taught me so much about pacing and giving the text and scenes room to breathe. You'll probably like her Grim Reaper!Eddie fic if you liked this chapter

And @pink-luna-moth made two incredible pieces for this fic. Check out his other monster art

This is a prequel to all the smut I wrote in the Celestial Centipede series. Many thanks to @stervrucht who beta'd those works like a champ and encouraged me to write a prequel :D her Eddie Big Bang entry is already posting! Check it out here

The first chapter is up here on Ao3. This fic is rated Explicit.

The main tags are: Monsterfucker Steve Harrington, Monster Eddie Munson, Canon-Typical Violence, Eddie Munson in the Upside Down, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Centipede

This fic is complete and is about 23k words. It'll update every Tuesdays and Saturdays until March 1st.

[pink-luna-moth]

It's here!!!! i'm so excited for this fic honestly i couldn't believe i managed to claim it

hope you all love it as much as i do

[sheepsicles]

Are you thinking of me?

Like I'm thinking of you?

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!

Here’s my secret santa gift for @pink-luna-moth !

without text 👇

[pink-luna-moth]

It’s posting time!!! I had the pleasure of drawing for @lilacliam hope you like this vampire Eddie

[cobbbvanth]

#blessed boop day to all who celebrate

[astrayan]

Reblog if your blog is boopable-safe so you can get all the (probably new) achievements. I don’t care about notes I just want boops

[obsolescencia]

[rito-otir]

they are back

[larks-and-katydids]

[ID: A gravestone with the words 'in the memories of boop' on it. Two cat paws reach up from under the ground like a zombie digging out from the grave, while a third, half-transparent ghostly paw lurks behind. End ID]

[north-peach]

you BOOP miette? you BOOP her tumblr like the football? oh! oh! jail for mother! jail for mother for One Thousand Years!!!!

[biggest-gaudiest-poltergeist]

staff handing us a clicker toy every so often like we're belligerent toddlers in the backseat who need to be distracted before we cause an accident (we are)

[obsolescencia]

[mimi-weka]

I just want to boop and be booped in return <3