#-silly goofy things

[the-chill-planet-uranus]

Y'all in the solarballs fandom be thinkin' I write depressing stuff in my diary when I'm actually just writing about how I'm not able to draw a simple star and attempting (but failing) to draw them.

Ain't that deep fellas, ain't that deep.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

something about first impressions idk

bonus:

[artkaninchenbau]

People keep on asking for more Baby Robin and Papadile so here is more Baby Robin and Papadile. Now never ask anything from me ever again

[bloominglegumes]

i love normal guys doomed by the narrative

[spacizia]

he’s just a swinging space age bachelor man!!!!

[mjulmjul]

hot drink <3

[mega-gaymer-party]

[l0vergirlsw0rld]

my little voyeur

neighbour!loganxvoyeur!reader

a/n: so sorry about the hiatus, started university and midterms are already here, crazy. anyway, enjoy this little idea i had, inspired by a real life situation. xox

wc:3.1k

MDNI !!! 18+, AGE GAP, SEXUAL CONTENT, ALCOHOL USE

summary: Y/N is growing needier with every one-night stand her hot neighbour brings over, one night she decides to be his next.

"-Oh fuck, keep going!" A muffled voice cried between the rhythmic thumping noises that came from the ceiling above you.

You bit down on your lip, shifting needily on your sofa. 

"Here we go again" You mumbled to yourself, glancing at the clock on your microwave.

8:37 PM. 

"Earlier than usual... Do you have to be somewhere early tomorrow?" You pressed the mute button on your TV remote to get a better listen.

The intrigue in your neighbour's activity had been a shameful recent development. He'd have company over almost every night now; which meant constant, rough sex.

The shared two-story house was old, and the walls were poorly insulated, which surely didn't aid your newfound obsession. Your unit was the basement suite: a homely one-bedroom, one-bathroom with a large kitchenette and living room. Even though you both lived in the same quarters, you both had your own respective spaces and entrances, which meant you rarely crossed paths. 

You knew little about the man upstairs, only that he lived alone, wasn't the talkative type, and rode a Harley Davidson that was equally as loud as his one-night stands.

Though it was ill-mannered of him to be as careless as he was, you couldn't stop yourself from being attracted to him. He might've had a good twenty years on you, but that didn't matter in this case. 

The man was in phenomenal shape for his age; You had come home one day to him working on his bike, shirtless. His physique was composed of thick broad shoulders that counterbalanced his narrow waist and muscular biceps that bulged beneath his skin, flowing seamlessly into veiny forearms. Dark curls of hair stretched downwards from his brawny chest, over his chiselled abs and disappeared into the denim waistband of his wranglers. 

To pair with that irresistible body, was a charmingly rugged face. Thick, untamed eyebrows cast a shadow over his piercing hazel eyes, while dense sideburns traced the sharp angles of his jawline. His short, spiked hair flared into two distinct tufts on either side of his head, adding to his wild, primal look.

"-Logan! I'm coming!" The voice screamed. Since this all began, you found yourself feeling rather bitter. Not only was it rude and annoying but from what you managed to pick up, most nights they would be playing out the very type of fantasies you'd always had but never got the chance to experience.

You let out a heavy sigh, feeling that excitement slowly pool in your lower stomach. You knew this would end soon, Logan seemed to have quite the routine, so your impending neediness wouldn't go any farther. 

His partners were usually dead silent for the rest of the night, presumably busy sleeping off the intense sex, which made the inconvenience somewhat tolerable. The only time they would potentially disturb you again was as they made their exit down the stairs the morning after. You could catch glimpses of them as they passed in front of your kitchen window, usually around the time you'd be having your coffee. 

From the looks of it, he had a type: girls your age. They'd always be dressed in last night's skimpy outfit, with knotted hair, but somehow still looked gorgeous. As they stumble their way to the taxi at the edge of the driveway. You'd observe them closer pressing up the glass, often spiking your jealousy.  

The first few you had laid eyes on made you snicker a jaded"How original."  But you were well used to it by now. 

Logan was your typical walking mid-life crisis; Bringing home adventurous young women, fucking their brains out, sending them away in a yellow chariot and never talking to them again. From the frequency of these one-night stands it looked as if he was trying to satisfy a hunger he couldn't seem to fulfill. Almost like preparing for hibernation.

 He was living the bachelor life that men his age could only dream of having, but there was something about the whole routine that felt...off. It was as if every conquest left him more empty, more distant and detached from everything and everyone around him. It wasn't just women that Logan indulged in, he was also a heavy drinker. You could tell by the recycling bin, always overflowing with liquor bottles, and the fact that the few times you'd been to The Black Lodge—the only bar in small-town Burns, Alaska—you had seen him there

You watched from your bar stool, careful to remain unnoticed. The brief exchanges between him and the bartender made it clear he was a regular—no need for small talk, just an easy, practiced silence. Logan's eyes, however, never lingered on the glass of neat whiskey in front of him. Instead, his gaze swept over the crowd, scanning for his next target, his posture relaxed but predatory. Despite his intimidating exterior, there was something magnetic about the way he worked the room, luring them in with lustful glances. He wasn’t just playing the game—he was built to win.

His trophy shelf was overflowing, yet there was no trace of happiness in Logan’s eyes.

You couldn’t help but wonder if this was the Logan everyone else saw—rough around the edges, careless, chewing through women and booze as if they were nothing more than fleeting distractions. Or was there something deeper, a hidden tenderness that only emerged behind closed doors? He never had family or friends over, just a revolving door of women. His life seemed lonely, private, and it made you wonder what demons gnawed at him when the nights grew quiet and the distractions faded away.

Was it trauma? 

Regret?

Or just the inevitable realization that his time was running out?

A part of you cared and wanted to be there for him, but it wasn't as simple as ringing his doorbell, he was unapproachable. During the few interactions you shared, he made it unmistakably clear that he had no interest in forming any kind of relationship with you. His responses were dry and curt, laced with a dismissive tone that cut down any hope of connection. Each word felt like a brick wall being built between you. He practically didn't look at you the entire time, keeping his eyes focused everywhere else but on yours. You couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment with every exchange, it was as if he was purposefully keeping you at arm's length.

Through your confusion, you understood why. You weren't what he was interested in, you couldn't contribute to his unfaltering hunger. You were more than happy to not be categorized with what he'd bring home from the bar, but a slight part of you wished that for one night, you would be. 

The selections were slim in Burns and you were newer to the area, which made it impossible to call for a late-night booty call, unlike him. It had been a long time since you'd last been with someone and the constant exposure to Logan's fruitful sex life made you grow needier by the day, which is where your obsession initially formed.

It began with something small, almost too innocent to notice. You found yourself paying closer attention to his everyday routine, drawn by curiosity. You’d glance out the window to check if his motorcycle was parked in the yard, and when you heard the faint sound of his footsteps starting the day, you’d instinctively check the clock taking mental notes of his wake-up times.

Before you knew it, your interest had evolved into something deeper, something far more personal. You began noticing his trash in your shared waste bin; discarded remnants of his life blending into your obsession. At the liquor store, you found yourself buying the same brand of beer he preferred, curious to experience the taste that would linger on his lips if you kissed him. At the supermarket, you began to choose the same detergent, not for practical reasons, but to breathe in the scent that clung to his skin.

There was a day that he left his Johnny Cash shirt outside. He tossed it on the ground carelessly after working up a sweat while fixing something in the yard. When he left, you ran out and took it. As your compulsion grew, so did your need for closeness to him. The shirt became more than just a relic of him—it was a trigger. 

You began wearing it late at night, feeling its used fabric against your skin. While the sounds of him having sex filtered through the thin walls. The rhythmic creaking of his bed upstairs, the faint moans, you’d inhale it deeply, lost in his scent. You'd thrust your fingers deep inside of you, following along with his rhythm, imagining it was him inside you—picturing how Logan would take control, filling you with the intensity you longed for. In those moments, it was as if he belonged to you, even if just in fantasy.

Your cheeks flushed red as you listened along, It was become too much to handle. You unmuted your episode and got up, needing to find some distraction. 

"It’s almost over," you told yourself, trying to ignore the urge to grab his shirt and take care of things right then and there. Instead, you walked over to the unpacked boxes in the corner of your living room, hoping to find a distraction.

As you opened the cardboard, you started sifting through the mismatched stuff crammed inside. Your fingers brushed against something soft and bristly, sparking your curiosity. You tightened your grip and pulled it out for a better look. To your surprise, it was an old wig from a Halloween costume—vivid and wild, a memory you had almost forgotten.

The faint sounds you were trying so hard to ignore managed to slip through anyway, sparking a devilish idea as you twirled the wig in your hands. You were going to get his attention, whether he liked it or not. A mischievous grin spread across your face; this could be your way in. It was time to shake things up and show him a side of you he hadn’t seen yet. 

It was the next day, and you knew for sure that Logan would be at that bar, just like he was every Thursday. You stepped inside, adjusting the wig discreetly, tucking away any hint of your natural colour, determined to become someone new for the night. This was a wild idea, but desperate times called for bold measures. You were dying for some relief and he was the only remedy for this ache you couldn’t shake.

The bar buzzed with energy, a lively crowd which meant you had competition. But tonight, you were set on one thing: going home with him, and anyone else.

You’d dressed the part—skin exposed, tight-fitting clothes that hugged your curves just right, making you feel both powerful and vulnerable at the same time. 

You scanned the bar, your heart racing as you spotted him in his usual seat. The moment you walked in, his eyes locked onto you, holding your attention captive. You averted your gaze and took a shaky breath, your feet guiding you across the room, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Pretending not to notice his gaze, you played coy, an enticing smile dancing on your lips. You slid into the seat across from him and reached for the black menu that lay before you, feigning interest in the options. Your eyes traced the words, but your mind was elsewhere—focused on the weight of his stare and the electric tension building between you.

The bartender approached, and you quickly ordered the first thing your eyes landed on, feeling a rush of nerves. You folded the menu neatly, deliberately turning your attention to the crowd, avoiding his gaze, you weren't playing his game, you were playing yours. The thrill of the chase sent a shiver down your spine. The bar chattered around you, laughter and conversation creating a lively backdrop as you focused on maintaining an air of nonchalance, even as you could feel his eyes on you, studying you with that intensity.

A beautiful stemmed glass slid in front of you, snapping your attention to your hands. You mumbled a thankyou and you took a sip, savouring the sweet burn as it slid down your throat. It gave you a moment to gather your thoughts. Just as you were about to steal a glance his way, you noticed from your peripheral that he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. That confident look told you he knew exactly what you were doing.

"Nice wig," he said, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the noise of the bar like a knife. The compliment sent a rush of heat to your cheeks, but you kept your expression cool, shooting him a sidelong glance as if you were just as unfazed by him.

“Thanks,” you replied, forcing a casual tone. “Just thought I’d switch things up a bit.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. The game was on, and you were ready to play.

Logan leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “It suits you, it's different.”

You felt a thrill at his words, the compliment warming you in ways you hadn’t anticipated. You kept your composure, but inside, your heart raced. “I like keeping things interesting,” you replied, matching his playful tone.

The atmosphere around you shifted slightly, the crowd fading into the background as you locked eyes again. The moment felt charged, filled with unspoken possibilities. You could sense the magnetic pull between you intensifying, and it was exhilarating.

He took a sip of his drink, never breaking eye contact. “Well, you're doing a good job of doing that."

You smiled, feeling a rush of confidence. “It's just a little bit of fun for a Thursday night. What about you? Same old routine, I bet?”

His smirk widened a glint of challenge in his eyes. “You could say that. But maybe I’m looking for something different tonight.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. This was the moment you’d been waiting for. You leaned forward, pushing your breasts together. “Well, that's hard to imagine. What’s your idea of different?”

 Logan’s eyes dropped to your cleavage. “How about we take this conversation somewhere a little more private?” His voice was low, rich with promise, and it sent a jolt of anticipation through you.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning casualness even as your heart raced. "And where would that be?”

He chuckled softly, a deep, rich sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “How about the upstairs at your place?”

The two of you made your way up the narrow staircase, the familiar creak of the wooden steps echoed in the silence. You could feel the heat radiating off him, each step heightening the anticipation of what was to come. You both reached his door, and his keys jingled as he unlocked it.

The door swung open, and you stepped inside as he held the door open for you. The soft light from his living room illuminated the space, casting warm shadows that danced along the walls. The place was surprisingly tidy, with the scent of cedar and booze lingering in the air.

Logan followed you in, closing the door behind him with a deliberate click that sent a thrill down your spine. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

You didn't know what you expected but it wasn't this. You took in the details of his space—artwork hung at odd angles, a well-worn couch sat invitingly in the center, and an empty whiskey glass perched on the coffee table. It was comfortable, lived-in, and spoke to the kind of man he was.

“Nice place,” you said, trying to sound casual, but your pulse quickened as you caught the intensity of his gaze. A beat passed.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, a hint of seriousness threading through his playful tone.

Your heart raced at the implication of his question. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” you replied biting your lip,  voice steady from a boldness surging through you.

Logan smirked, his expression shifting from playful to something more primal and dark. 

“Good. Because I don’t plan on holding back. Gotta teach you a lesson after all,”

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, backing you against the wall with a firm press of his body. The warmth of him enveloped you, and you felt your breath hitch as he leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from yours. As he grabbed your face, his calloused fingers dug into your cheeks roughly, parting your lips open.

“I know you took my shirt, you fucking freak,” he murmured, his voice thick and husky.

You were unable to form words as you felt the threat of what was to come flood your senses. Your heartbeat stammered in your rib cage, fear overcoming you but there was a thrilling undercurrent of excitement that was hard to ignore. Logan’s intense gaze held you captive, and the edge in his voice sent the tension crackling in the air between you.

“You didn’t think I’d notice?” he continued, a low chuckle escaping his lips, laced with a hint of danger. “A man owns about three good shirts and is bound to notice when one goes missing.” His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, making your breath hitch again, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond.

“You’ve been watching me,” he stated, his voice dropping even lower. “Spying on me like some lovesick teenager. It’s cute, but it’s also… a little sick.” The intensity in his gaze softened slightly, a flicker of something deeper behind his fierce exterior.

You swallowed hard, the words caught in your throat. “I—”

“Save it,” he interrupted, his grip tightening around your jaw just enough to keep your attention focused on him. “Don't give me excuses. Tell me why.”

The question hung in the air, heavy and charged. What could you possibly say that would explain the tangled web of emotions and desires that had led you here? His proximity was intoxicating, and the conflict between fear and yearning made your head spin.

“I... I just wanted to understand you,” you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “I hear you with the women you bring home... and I want that. ”

Logan's smile grows somehow even darker. "So ya' got all dressed up for me because you want me to fuck you like I do with the others? That right, sweetheart?" 

The only thing you could do at this moment was give him an eager nod, the ache between your legs growing shamefully larger by the second. 

“I’ll give you what you want kid', but you need to know something first.” He paused slightly, the air between you thick with tension. 

“I’m the best at what I do, and I don’t do it very nicely.”

cliff hanger I know, but i'm such a slut for teasing.

🏷️: @back2thebasics , @spookyfunhottub, @lanassmarty, @hypermarvellove, @kbear8863

If you'd like to join my tagged list and be notified whenever I post new content, click ->-> HERE<-<-, instructions will follow.

->->masterlist<-<-

[gordonfreemanspussy]

@scienceteamtober day 11: group photo

[geekylled]

Ken Sato, outfielder for the Yomiuri Giants, comes clean about giant spending habits!

In a recent interview, All-Star player Kenji Sato confessed to spending absurd amounts of money on grossly large sports memorabilia— mostly his own.

“I have a good, totally plausible reason for it,” Sato had plead, unconvincingly.

Sato bat an average of .420 last season, which puts him among the best. “It’s— ugh. Hm. Erm. It’s.” Unfortunately, he struck out severely in attempting to explain his spending habits.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it!” Sato swore, but then refused to give exact numbers in terms of pricing for those who may want to “try it”.

For the readers not in the know, a 15-foot recreation of Sato’s jersey recently went viral when commission details were leaked to the public. Our interviewer asked for a comment concerning the jersey, to which Sato is quoted to have said: “Well. I guess you can say I have a pretty big fan.”

[strange0-0storm]

I LOVE DRAWING TATE ANGST AAAHAHHEHEHEHEHE Bro had a hella sad childhood no DOUBT

Then some other drawings ONG

Explodes

[shepscapades]

I think it’s safe to say Ranchers Win These

(In the silence between the last two panels, there is a 20 page comic in my head filled with flashbacks of every moment Scott teased, scolded, or dismissed Jimmy—and every moment where Tango was instead kind, patient, and proud)

[nebuladreamz]

A little different than last year's, but here we are again. To say that this past year hasn't been absolutely wild would be a lie, cause HOLY SHIT MAN

This year's birthday is. A little different for me, but you already have the silly comic to show that so I won't make like a broken record oops

But, despite the changes and hills that life's decided I should climb or throw at, it hasn't changed the fact that I'm so genuinely fucking thankful to the people that I've known since joining this fandom. I'm not even kidding when I say that being here has actually changed my life for the better. I know I said something similar last year, but this time, hoo boy it sure turned up the AMP and test how far I could go.

So, to everyone, both new and old; thank you for being here :D

@garbagechocolate @darkxsoulzyx @smoljeanius @bunmuffin @skizabaa

@tuzesdays @sleepykas @fernzwing @kandidandi @starsketchez

@just-a-drawing-bean @notdysfunk @ilsole @amberluvsbugs @cloudyvoid

@nomsthecat @alfinefalf @nosleepygay @theblog-with-thestuff

@cacaocheri

(Edit: ty kibbits for informing me of the. Fuck ass tagging system)

AND TAGGING OTHERS BECAUSE. POINTS. BONKS WITH HEAD. GETTING TO EITHER INTERACT OR TALK OR WHATEVER IS ALWAYS A DELIGHT

@ohno-the-sun @kibbits @ink-yy @saltyfryz @kaprisvn

@hierba-picante @sunny-sophies-garden @cookiiemancer @sneeblbop @justaduckarts

@pepethehumanz @crystalmagpie447 @woolysstuff @mocha-illustrates @duhsty1

@sanchensky @pillowspace @victarin @witherfide

[I DEFINITELY GOT SONAS WRONG AND THESE AREN'T ALL THE SILLY PEOPLE I KNOW BUT IM SITTING HERE AT 2:30 IN THE MORNING JUST KNOW YOU'RE THERE IN SPIRIT HANDING YOU ALL POPTARTS WAUGH]

[dhmis-autism]

still on my pilot kick. anyways. worstie era!! ♡

[matchingbatbites]

For @steveshairychest and based on their post here. I read it and just couldn't resist <3

The thing is, Eddie knows that Steve is straight. Honestly, that's the only reason Eddie is as bold as he is, why he starts flirting with him in the first place. He's got years of repressed feelings towards the younger boy, and now they're friends, good friends, and Eddie feels comfortable letting loose some of that pent up attraction, knowing that Steve won’t shun him for it.

He does start off small, just to be safe, with pet names and terms of endearment like handsome, honey, sweetheart. Just little things that make Steve's mouth quirk in a smile, nothing to make him feel uncomfortable. The longer Eddie goes, though, the bolder he gets.

The first pickup line is a joke. They’ve been talking about some new beach movie that's just been released onto video when Steve mentions his lifeguard certification, and before Eddie can stop himself he says “It's a good thing you're a lifeguard, because I'm drowning in your eyes.” 

Steve laughs at that, not mean, just surprised, and is still grinning as he gives a half-hearted “Shut up, Eds,” and turns back to what he was working on. 

And, oh, Steve has no idea what he's done, because Eddie is instantly obsessed with the need to make Steve laugh, to pull out that playful side of him that’s so rare to witness. So Eddie pulls out every dumb pickup line in the book, tries his best to make him laugh again.

“Hey, Stevie, your hand looks lonely. Can I hold it for you?”

“Did you just come out of an oven? Because you're too hot to handle.”

“Is your dad a boxer? Because baby, you're a knockout.”

Most of the time Steve just rolls his eyes and grins, but every so often he’ll make that surprised laugh, or god forbid, he’ll giggle, and Eddie mentally crows in victory every time it happens.

The kiss thing is spur of the moment one day, when Eddie has been hanging out just to be around Steve, and causing a little bit of a racket in the store. After a while, Steve playfully shoves at Eddie's shoulder and says "Get out of here before you get me in trouble, man," and Eddie just grins as he leans into Steve's space. 

"What? No goodbye kiss before you send me off into the world?" 

And oh god, Steve actually blushes this time, his cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink, and oh fuck, Eddie is such a goner. Steve shakes his head and tries his best to hide a smile as he says "In your dreams, Eddie." 

"In my dreams it’ll be, then, handsome," Eddie replies with a grin, giving a mock salute on his way out the door.

It becomes a usual thing, Eddie hanging out and flirting and asking Steve for a kiss before he leaves. Every time, Steve's response is the same, that delightful blush covers his cheeks as he grins and pushes Eddie away with a "Keep dreaming," or a "You wish,” or even a half-assed “Fuck off, Eds.”

It all comes back to bite him in the ass when, for once, Eddie arrives at the video store to pick up Robin, instead of just doing his usual lazing about and bothering Steve.

Walking in, he doesn't see Buckley immediately, but he does spot his favorite person behind the counter and he beelines to Steve. He leans on the counter, elbows on the clean surface and chin in his hands as he bats his eyelashes at Steve.

"Hi Stevie! How's the prettiest boy in Hawkins today?" 

Steve looks over at him and Eddie feels like a deer in headlights when the man gives him a sly grin. He leans on the counter, arms crossed as he presses into Eddie’s space.

"I dunno, gorgeous, how are you doing?" 

All of Eddie's higher brain function just stops as Steve speaks. It’s such a stupid response, something that anyone else might have said if asked the same question, but for some reason it makes Eddie go dumb, cheeks flooding with color and mouth dropping in shock.

Steve’s grin widens and he tips his head to the side, looking like the cat who got the fucking canary. He reaches up and grabs a curl that had fallen from the messy bun Eddie had thrown his hair into, and twists the lock around his finger as he leans even closer.

"You look so fucking good today. Drives me crazy when you wear your hair up like this, sweetheart. Puts your whole neck on display, all that pretty skin just begging to be bitten and marked up."

And yeah, Eddie's brain must be leaking out of his ears, because it’s him, it’s Eddie, the master wordsmith who always has something to say, and all he can manage to get out in response is a single, stupid sounding "Uh.”

Steve's expression shifts to something more condescending and god, Eddie is so into it when he tugs on the curl again and coos "Aw, got nothin’ to say, baby doll? Can't take what you dish out?" 

An embarrassing whine finds its way into the air between them and fuck, Eddie has to go. He needs to leave before he makes an even bigger fool of himself than he already has, because Steve is looking at Eddie like he wants to eat him and his knees feel like jello and where the fuck is Robin??

As though summoned by just a thought, Robin breezes through the shop and throws out a casual “Steve, can you stop? I need him to drive me home and he can’t do that if his brain is mush.”

Eddie glances over as she walks past them, thinks Traitor! as she leaves him at Steve’s mercy and heads outside to his van. He looks back to Steve, at those hazel eyes alight with amusement and tries to get his brain to work.

“I need- uh- Robin-” he stammers, unable to even complete a thought as Steve smirks and leans in even closer, his nose almost brushing against Eddie's when he asks, "Can I get a goodbye kiss?" 

And Eddie could never say no to Steve, especially when the other is looking at him like that. He nods dumbly, hoping he doesn't look as desperate as he feels, and there's another tug on that curl.

"I need you to use your big boy words, sweetheart," Steve says, still tinged with condescension, and Jesus fucking Christ, this whole dynamic is really doing it for Eddie, more so than he ever thought it would.

"Yes, Steve- Please-" he says, fully prepared to start begging if he has to, if he can find the words to, but he's given a bit of mercy when Steve closes the gap between them.

It feels like he’s being electrocuted, and that's all he needs for his brain to get with the program, for his hands to finally respond as they fly up and tangle in honey locks as he kisses back.

Steve groans and presses closer, his tongue bullying its way into Eddie's mouth and Eddie can feel his limbs turning into goo as Steve kisses him thoroughly, those old King skills being put to good use as he wrecks Eddie with just this.

A car horn sounds from outside the shop and Steve pulls away, smirking again at Eddie's soft whine of protest. “You better go before Robin pitches a fit.” 

Eddie nods, still dumbstruck from the last few minutes and says "I- Yeah, okay. Uh, call me? Tonight?"

Steve hums and stands up straight, and Eddie can feel his brain power returning with the little bit of distance now between them. 

“Why don’t you come over after my shift? Say, 9?” Steve asks, giving Eddie that hungry look once again, and Eddie’s breath hitches.

“Yep, yes, I can- I’ll definitely do that,” he answers, taking a few steps back and trying his best not to stumble. “I’ll, uh, see you then, Stevie.”

Steve calls out “See you later, baby doll!” as Eddie scrambles for the door, and oh god, Eddie is fucked.

[turrondeluxe]

always happy about the fact that in 2012, mikey often asked donnie questions if he didn't understand something and donnie always answered no matter what

this can be seen in a bunch of episodes but my favorite example of it it's the one in half shell heroes where mikey is extremely excited to be in the museums and is the one actively asking donnie questions about the exhibits they saw and also actively listening to donnie's explanation (before raph got silly lmao). he was very excited to learn!!!

And while it's true that mikey would lose interest quite fast if the explanation got too lengthy with too many technical terms, it doesn't change the fact that he does retain the info donnie is always rambling on about different things!!! (even if mikey himself doesn't notice he's doing it lol) and also i find it very sweet that no matter if donnie himself got annoyed, donnie would always answer the questions. no matter what. he would always try to explain if he didn't understand something

This is prob because mikey is the one brother who is often seeking out donnie to pass time around him Meaning that donnie might have used mikey as his rubber ducky whenever mikey hangs out with him while he's working (explained him a lot of his experiments and theories while trying to solve them himself and in this way mikey also learnt in the process WHILE spending time with his brother! win win!)

it also helps donnie because accompanies him while not letting him get lonely in his lab 24/7, sometimes explaining things to someone makes it better to understand it yourself AND it's shown in the comics that donnie is quite used to his brothers just Living as background noise and literally cannot function without it lmao

They are literally the two smart kids in the family even if none of them notice it and it's all because mikey looks up to his brother and is like an sponge with donnie around. donnie is actively teaching mikey and mikey is learning! even if they have no idea they are doing it