#He's trying

[spicy-apple-pie]

Bruce: I'm so relieved that Tim and Damian are getting along :)

Damian: shoving the antibiotic down Tim's throat like a dog

(Also Bruce: How's karma taste Tim?)

Part 2 from this

...Part 3...

[endominator]

Desperate

[ravensapphiree]

Eddie, trying to flirt: So, you come around here often?

Steve, confused: I mean, this is my house, so yeah.

[qcomicsy]

If the batkids had a podcast. Part. Xll

Nightwing: "How does it feel to be Batman"- You know that meme "I have no mouth and I must scream"?

Redhood: Wow- That bad??

Nightwing: No-Not really- It's just- You have a very set of limited things you can do as batman.

Nightwing: The fear is great though– People look at you and run.

Redhood: (giggles) Uh-huh

Nightwing: But like- If /Nightwing. Go up to a Penguing gang meeting and shout "Well that's fishy" no one bats an eye.

Redhood: Because you're weird-

Nightwing: I'm not weird- Shut up-("you are" on the background) I'm not. If- If Robin says that-

Robin: I would never say that.

Red Robin: I would

Robin: Of course you wou-

Nightwing: Point is- If I say that, Or Robin say that or Red Robi- No one cares. You can do a double flip and call them a bitch, and that's it. Now if Batman say's that-

Red Robin: You have a problem.

Nightwing: You would have like seven drug dealers heavily armed staring at you horrofied in a empty parking lot.

Redhood: That Sounds awfully restricting.

Nightwing: Right? It was. But (pause) it was a kind of- I don't know. I kinda of a honor noneless. Would do the same again. If had to.

Nightwing:

Nightwing: And people would– People would tweet "why the fuck batman is smiling so much this is terrifying"- And I would be like "well that doesn't add to the pressure at all"- (nervous laugh) Like- I'm trying my best guys- Please.

Prev Post // Next Post

[riickgrimes]

2.03 // 2.08

[patrothestupid]

resisting the urge

[din-skywalker]

also rewatching the miguel scenes reaffirms my belief that he isn't a pure asshole like some people think in the movie. he genuinely felt bad about doing what he was doing to miles- you could see when he reaches out to touch his shoulder, when he puts his hands up when miles turned on him because of that. his tone was gentle and his demeanor was calm... until miles threatened all of the multiverse itself. then he got mad. but even then, underneath it, you could tell he felt bad while he was sending gwen home and she said "we're supposed to be the good guys" and he tries to say that they are, before he takes on his strong front on again. he's not just an angry man- he's *trying to be nice*. that's why he was so mad when he said "he didn't listen to me!" because he was trying to be nice and reasonable while explaining things

[sherlock-and-co-incorrect-quotes]

Sherlock: Now that I've explained this case for the third time, do you understand it?

John, voice cracking: Y-yes

Sherlock: Are you lying to me?

John, on the verge of tears: Yes

[starsonablackboard]

imagine if narinder's main love language (the one he expresses love through) is words of affirmation but he's so inexperienced in feelings stuff that the best he can do is what others perceive as polite telling off or backhanded compliments

"it wasn't as bad as i expected" "you can stay if you want to" "you don't look like a walking corpse for once"

[the-great-kraken]

the thing about bruce wayne's parenting is that it's dysfunctional, yes. abusive? no. there's a very fine line there and he dances along it like a tightrope.

[arthursfuckinghat]

"I guess he thinks he's the king around here.."

[elijah-loyal]

bawling rn i so hope i'm wrong bc it's sounding a LOT like jon is indeed trapped in the computer

which means he didn't escape. he didn't escape Somewhere Else. There is no Somewhere Else thats warm and safe for him.

He's still Watching, will always still be Watching, because after all, the Watcher is ceaseless after all

[pumpkin-patch-cat]

⸸ Satan and Aftercare ⸸

Warning: 18+ - mention of physical vulnerability after intimacy. GN reader.

⸸ Satan gives the best aftercare (after having taught himself how).

Albeit a lil' clumsy with it, he does his best and makes sure the care kit is stocked and ready.

He knows he's a force to be wreckoned with, leaving more cuts and bruises on his fragile human's body during one session than they've probably received in their lifetime.

Of course, it wasn't always like that in the beginning. Satan was possessive, sure, but that didn't equal caring. He's a demon, after all, and didn't pay much attention to your wellbeing since he truly didn't need to care for anyone aside from himself(and maybe Solomon), and even that is a chore.

No, it wasn't until he'd taken and used your body (with your permission) beyond its limit one night, leaving you a silent, weeping mess on the bed behind him. Seeing you curled up with tears staining your cheeks did something to his heart. You'd even flinched when he'd touched you.

This frustrated him--broke him.

But how could he take care of a human? Why can't they just heal quickly?? >:( Questions he alone didn't have the answers to. But that didn't stop him from trying.

So now armed with knowledge, he has things prepared. First aid kit, water bottle, towels, snacks, bath stuff, etc.

It threw you off the first time Satan left the room and came back with a towel to dab gently at your forehead, mid section and lower half, then start tending to the open cuts he enjoys painting the canvas that is your body with.

"...what are you doing...?"

"Nothing...-" He continues wiping your limbs before reaching for the first aid box, but pauses for a beat. "Why do you look so confused?"

"Uh...I mean you've never done...this...before, so like... why now?"

"...because you're getting blood all over my sheets. Now hold still." With knitted brows, Satan begins cleaning your cuts.

You smirk with a roll of your eyes and relax against the pillows.

"Whatever you say, jerk"

That made him smile.

[incorrectjokerout]

Jure,about Bojan and Kris:They make a cute couple,huh?

Jan:

Jan:They certainly are standing next to each other.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

FSBE 5 - They Were Roommates

The rogue fails an insight check.

On AO3.

The oppressive darkness begins to weigh heavily on them all. Even Astarion, who is technically a corpse and shouldn’t be prone to things like “enchanted mist” and “curse-driven shadows” and “that rotting carcass suddenly filled with moving tendrils and leapt upon the wizard and bit him in the face.”

So after their tiefling smashes the monstrosity to pieces and the cleric seals up said wizard’s face, the party calls a halt to their little march. Astarion finds his hands shake. Likely all the spilt blood—even if it is rotten by Netherese sorcery. It has nothing to do with a puppeted skeleton. That thing had been an empty pile of bones, the sockets hollow and dark. No cursed, red light to be seen anywhere.

Luckily, the camp is grim and gray as usual. After setting up reluctant torches, and after the campfire refuses to do anything more than sputter, they break out their cold rations, set up a watch, and head to their tents.

Including the wretched ball of fur and feathers his ridiculous leader named Sweetums (ugh). Astarion bites back a curse of his own as he lifts his leader’s tent flap and spots the beast. But manages to paint on a false smile as he ducks in.

He does consider turning right around and leaving. He’s used to performing for all sorts of audiences, used his nude body to display to all manner of creatures. None of them have been an owlbear before. Not even a cub. His leader, if she’s to be believed—and he’s very inclined to do so, based on her behavior thus far—has only ever had one sexual encounter in her life. And they both kept their clothes on. Either she intends to kick the beast out (unlikely), or she’s far more open-minded than he’s realized.

Well. This place is dismal and he’s neither scented nor seen so much as a rat. Best keep her close. Even if it turns out she has strange proclivities.

“Hello, darling,” he says.

“I, uh,” his leader says. “Sorry. Sweetums seemed real freaked out. I can’t leave him out there. That ain’t a deal breaker, right?”

How…cute for her to ask. As if he’s any other choice.

The little beastie curls up against her side, limbs drawn into a trembling ball. No, his tender-hearted sweetling won’t give the animal the boot.

Well, it’s not the strangest thing he’s done.

“Not at all,” he says. Drops to all fours and lets the tent fall shut behind him. It’s a touch more difficult to make crawling seductive when his target is sitting on the ground with him. This sort of thing works best when he’s meant to be lower. Subservient. But he’s had ample practice, and he does what he can. Her eyes go wide as he reaches her folded legs.

“Uh,” she says in that low, almost nasally tone she uses when she’s panicking in her own mind.

He reaches her, eases his face closer to hers. But she…pulls back.

Cold fingers clench his stomach. He’s made a mistake. She’s rejecting him, found fault with him and it’s all been for naught. He’ll have to start fresh with the others after she’s punished him, and it will be more difficult once they see him humiliated. This band is the only thing with a pulse out here, and he knows starvation—true starvation, nothing at all like what a living person could withstand—he’ll have to go crawling to one of them just to—

“Could we, um,” she says. Glances to her pet. Back to him. She’s usually quite adept at keeping her face blank. But he’s close enough—and gaining familiarity—to read the awkwardness just beneath her mask. “I know I said, y’know. My tent. As in my tent—jesus lord I sound like a fucking teenager. But. Could we not? Tonight?”

Not tonight. Not have sex. But implying a different night might be more suitable? Because they have an audience and she’s barely engaged in these kind of activities and doesn’t want to now, in front of her beastie. But might be inclined to do so were said beastie not huddled inside her tent.

The icy vice taking hold of his innards eases. A little.

“I was wondering if you’d mind an onlooker,” he says. “You do so love to watch, I’ve heard. I wouldn’t be surprised.”

She flushes so dark he can smell the blood rise on her skin. “That’s not…I don’t…most people watch porn! Even just for research!”

He leans back a bit. Not far enough to set her completely at ease—if they’re talking about the strange sex boxes her world possesses, he wants her to associate that with his proximity. But enough she stops cringing away.

“Research?” he says. “What kind of research would require watching two people in such passionate throes?”

Her brows pinch—a flicker, really—into a slight frown. “Lots. Cultural studies, writers, artists. Hell, just people who’s curious.”

“And which of these was your excuse?”

Gods, but it’s fun to push her. Especially as it seems to ease the coldness even further.

At first glance, she seems a typically chaste flower, prone to bruised petals, to wilting at the mention of sex. But she’s a walking contradiction, his intrepid leader, and instead of blushing and stammering (though she is an interesting shade of red), instead of hiding her face or changing the subject, she looks him dead in the eye (ha), her dark eyes sharp, and lifts her chin to challenge him.

“Curiosity,” she says, bold as she pleases.

Oh, but she’s such a treat.

“Well, I certainly can’t fault you for that,” he says. Leans in again slowly. Watches for her to back away or turn her head. But he’s snared her attention to him, now. Specifically, to his lips as he closes in. Talking about sex has made her think of it, and he’s tying that to him so well he has to work to keep a grin from showing.

In this, his talent is unmatched.

“Actually!” She doesn’t say the words as much as it explodes out of her. It’s so jarring he flinches back. “Sorry! I just…”

Gods below. If he could just kiss her. Remind her of why she needs him.

“I have a question,” she says. “About Shadowheart.”

And just like that, all thoughts of seduction die. He fumbles the amorous airs he’s so carefully slipped on and watches them shatter to the ground. Sits right back on his heels and forgets himself and frowns. “The cleric? What has she to do with anything?”

“Nothing. Or, I don’t know. She’s like, devoted to a god, right?”

This is really happening? His careful plan tossed aside for this? Of all the ways he could be spending her evening.

“We finally get time to ourselves and you’d like a theology lecture?” He can’t help himself. The question is too burning. Too ridiculous. He sighs, feels his shoulders hitch up. “Why don’t you go ask our resident wizard for that? Better yet, ask the cleric herself?”

She winces. “I thought’a that. But she’s all dodgy about it, and Gale got bit by a skeleton. In the face.”

“Of course she’s secretive. She’s a Sharran.”

“A what?”

Shit. So focused on losing his prize, the seduction he’s failed to procure, he failed to spot the trap she’d so blatantly laid out for him.

He should leave. If she’s not receptive to his body, he has plenty of books he could be reading instead (unknown courtesy of the wizard, and if the man doesn’t like it, he ought to keep better watch on this belongings). But she looks at him like…he doesn’t know. Like she listens. Like she has listened to him, and will continue to do so. And with her and the beast in here, he’s become aware of how chilled his own flesh is. How chilled these cursed lands are.

She’s inviting him to stay. Share in the warmth. And, and her time. With his shirt on.

“Our dear cleric hasn’t outright said it, but it’s obvious to anyone paying attention. Shar is a goddess, the sister of Selune,” Astarion says, despite himself. At Eleanor’s blank stare, he smothers the urge to roll his eyes. “Goddess of the moon, the stars, all the usual trappings of that sort of thing. Surely you noticed our dear cleric’s disdain of her at that temple the goblins infested?”

His leader’s gaze goes distant. She nods slowly.

Still looks to him. Sits there, patiently. He came to offer himself to her, as he’s done for so, so many. And instead of grabbing him, clinging to him, baring his flesh to her and using his body for her pleasure, she wants simply to…talk.

“You really would rather spend out evening talking about gods?” he says. Probably shouldn’t. Best not to tempt anything. Yet does it anyway because he’s an impulsive creature.

A strange expression flickers over her features. It’s too fast for even him to catch, let alone pull apart. But she says, “Yeah? If’ you’re okay with that.”

Okay with it?

A quiver ripples through him. Something sickly. Something dreadful. And also, somehow, almost nice.

It’s their surroundings. This horrid place would put a damper on the passion of just about anyone. He can’t actually blame her for her lack of enthusiasm (she had been enthusiastic the last time he touched her) (the only time; he needs to remind her, needs to). And she’s concerned for her pet. Concerned for their cleric, who does patch their wounds after battle.

She’s proven herself to be intellectual and curious, and she is such a recent arrival to this realm. He shouldn’t be too put out, shouldn’t be surprised that she wants valuable information she’ll need to survive.

It’s just odd, is all. To be asked. To be listened to. To be used for his mind, of all things. Not for his flesh.

She fidgets. He’s been silent too long.

“If that’s what you’d prefer, darling,” he says. Folds his legs so he no longer straddles her and instead seats himself gracefully (not at all awkwardly and certainly not hesitantly) next to her.

And he does not balk—just the barest flinch—when she lifts her blanket to drape over his shoulders. Draws him in. Shares the heat of her own body with him, even though she only wants to talk.

Such a strange creature.

His reaction to it all is even stranger. His muscles tense, bunch, as if to bolt for the tent flap. Yet her heat soaks into him and loosens joints he’s so used to aching, he doesn’t even register the pain until it begins to soothe away.

So he does what he’s used to doing. He holds himself still. Pastes on a less flirtatious smile (imagine that). Opens his mouth to see of his words can distract future pain from visiting him. “Shar is often called by her followers the Lady of Loss. Most people despise her.”

[blushweddinggowns]

Would love to see your take on 23 or 28 good potential for fluff or angst or maybe both?

I am such a fluffy bitch! I can't help myself. If I get another one of these I will do angst because I need to work on that. But for now fluffy bullshit is my safe place <3

But I will say this tickled my uh not sfw brain, so watch out for a possible ao3 E addition the other prompt. Maybe! (Probably. the potenial of "Come and get your fix" is insane) But this is "Was it worth it?"

~

Honestly? You'd think Steve would be used to this by now. He was just not the guy that anyone wanted to be with. First there was Nancy, the worst heartbreak he ever had. Then there was Robin, which was better but still kind of sucked. Until Steve realized that oh, wow, this girl is literally my long lost sister. So with that, he had to admit that he was pretty grateful that she was gay as hell. The alternative would have been an absolute disaster. But even before all of that, girls just didn't like being with him. Or at least staying with him.

He was too much of a hopeless romantic, too clingy, too weird. He always fell beneath expectations. People expected him to be cool, suave, to actually match the whole "King Steve" label and be the high school dream boat that he should be. But...Steve just wasn't like that. He wanted too much too fast, always opening up and sharing shit that made people uncomfortable. That made them pull away and find someone less annoying. So he'd retreat back into the popular boy thing, be charming and a little dickish, find a new girlfriend, and start the process all over again.

People just... didn't like going there with him. Not when there were better options. It felt like the only one who could really handle him was Robin. And lately... Eddie Munson.

Eddie Munson who was currently in the middle of crushing all of his feelings into the dust.

He thought...Steve wasn't sure what he thought. But it felt like over the past year they had been moving somewhere, to something more. They were friends by circumstance, from all the Upside Down shit and then with Steve being Dustin's chauffer to the hospital for visits. It had all been so simple at first. They would all talk as a group, it would be fun, and then they'd be on there way until Dustin called him up next. Until one day Steve just went by himself. He wasn't quite sure why he did, but the bright smile that lit up Eddie's face when he saw him made sure that he'd keep doing it.

And they would talk for a long time. For a stupid amount of time honestly, all the way until the nurses kicked him out for getting Eddie too rowdy and excited. But it didn't stop when he got out of the hospital. Steve just started going to house, helping him and his uncle out as they got to know each other more. It's not like he had anything else going on. He just never expected Eddie Munson of all people to slowly become the center of his life.

They just... clicked. In a way that no one had expected, least of all them. They were so different, but they also weren't. Not in the ways that mattered. Besides, Steve liked all the play fights and debates they would have over music and movies. He liked ribbing each other over their taste in clothes and their mutual inability to get girls. He loved it even more when Eddie came out to him in the silliest possible way.

"I can't get girls because I'm gay as fuck and they can sense it. You can't get girls because every straight woman that lives here is apparently stupid. Can being too hot ruin your dating life?"

At the time it had made Steve laugh. It also stirred... something in his chest. Something warm and nice that he didn't have time to examine, not when he was too busy reassuring Eddie that yes, he's okay with it. But no, girls couldn't smell it on him. Not that Eddie cared but Steve actually had 0 clue on why no one was interested in him. Just because he was gay didn't mean the girls of Hawkins high knew that. Why weren't they fawning over him? He was so freaking pretty, and creative and fun and...and that's how Steve realized he wasn't as straight as he thought he was.

And because Steve was Steve that meant that he had to make things weird. He started doing stupid shit, like staring at Eddie's perfect mouth all the time, wearing his clothes with permission, just to smell him throughout the day. They started giving each other little nick names, stupid shit that was so close to being romantic. Like sunshine and angel. They started sleeping in the same bed together, spending more nights with each other than apart. Steve would wake up with Eddie wrapped around him, clinging to him like...like they were something more.

And it felt good. Comfortable and safe. And Steve really thought that this had been different. That whatever was going on with him had to be going on with Eddie too.

But now here he was, standing shell-shocked in his kitchen while his very good friend was trying to talk to him about his crush. His crush that had nothing to do with Steve. It wasn't exactly shocking that Steve had made all of that flirtation up in his head. It wouldn't be the first time, he was just delusional like that.

But that didn't stop his heart from breaking when Eddie said, "So...there's this guy whose like, insanely hot? And I think he might be into me. But... I don't really know what to do about it."

Steve really did not want to hear about this. He didn't like it, the horrifying thought of Eddie getting a boyfriend. Because what partner would be cool with them cuddling up together in bed? Who would be down to have their boyfriend's creepy buddy hanging around them all the time? Calling them stupid shit like sunshine? It wasn't going to happen. And acknowledging that hurt...so much more than Steve had expected.

But Steve was a good friend. That was probably the only thing he had going for him. He'd get past it. He always did. He was just going to have to completely restructure the life he had built around Eddie. That's all.

He shoved his feelings back, smiling despite the fact that he felt like he was dying a little inside, "Oh yeah? Tell me about him."

Steve wasn't sure why he asked that. And the dreamy smiled on Eddie's face when he started talking wasn't helping, "He is just awesome dude. Total catch, an absolute sweetheart. And he just fits with me y'know? And, um, I think he feels the same way. But I'm not sure. I'm too much of a bitch to even ask if he's into dudes. I don't know if telling him is worth the risk."

Part of Steve wanted to be a real piece of shit with that. To tell him that yeah, it's not a good idea. He's probably straight and definitely wouldn't be good for him. They wouldn't love him like Steve could. But that didn't exactly count as being a good friend, did it?

Steve kept it all back, his smile tight when he said, "I think that sometimes the risk can be worth it. Do you think he's worth it?"

Eddie laughed, like Steve said something funny instead of trying to be sincere. But he was smiling, staring down at the counter as he fiddled with his rings, "If it worked out, it would probably be the best thing that ever happened to me."

Steve really really did not need to hear that. He could feel his eyes getting wet. He needed to wrap this shit up and send Eddie on his way to mystery man's house before he started crying, "If that's how you feel then go for it man. He'd be lucky to have you."

Steve's voice broke on the last word, something he tried to hide behind a cough. He just wanted this to be over already.

"I think I'd be lucky to have him," Eddie said with a shrug, "But... do you really think I should? Just go for it?"

"Yeah dude, why not tonight even? If he's not doing anything else you can just hop right over," Steve was willing to sign up for anything that got him out of here faster.

Eddie laughed again, completely out of place. He was circling the counter, coming to a stop in front of Steve with a nervous little smile, "You really think so?"

Why did he have to look at him like that? With this big doe eyes, filled with hope. It was silly, what Steve thought didn't even matter, this had nothing to do with him. But that little fact wasn't helping to clear the lump in his throat.

Steve nodded, not trusting himself with words. He expected Eddie to grin, thank him, and head out into the night to profess his love for some other dude. But that's not what happened.

Instead Eddie settled his hands on Steve's shoulders, giving them a firm squeeze. He looked nervous, but excited, his eyes boring right into Steve's. He took a deep breath before blurting, "I'm in love with you. Like full-blown. A-And it's probably way to early to be saying that but it's true Steve. It's been driving me fucking insane, because I like want you man. In very non-friendship ways."

Steve stared at him, his mouth hanging open like an idiot. He didn't-wait-huh? What? That can't be right. Eddie couldn't have been talking about him because he didn't-he wasn't-but... now that Steve thought about it, who the fuck else would he be talking about? How would he even have a chance to meet someone else when they were attached at the hip?

He felt so stupid. And so relived. He didn't even know what to do with himself, besides stare at Eddie like a moron. And his silence wasn't helping anything.

"I-um, thought that you might feel the same way since, y'know. Everything. And I know you're not gay-"

It was true, Steve wasn't gay. Not entirely but, "I can be gay for you. I'm so gay for you. I might as well be an Eddie-sexual at this point-"

Steve didn't have time to finish his cringy spiel, not when Eddie was pulling him closer and smashing their mouths together. Steve would thank him later for it, but for now he was too busy melting into his arms.

He felt weirdly good when they finally pulled away, almost like he was high. Just from one little kiss.

Eddie was grinning at him, looking at Steve like he was the best thing that ever happened to him. And what an insane thought that was huh? But Steve would take it.

Steve smiled up at him, taking the time to wrap his arms around Eddie's neck, "So...was it worth it? The risk?"

Eddie rolled his eyes, his hands wandering downward to rest on Steve's hips. And then Eddie was actually lifting him into the air and onto the counter, settling between his legs like the gesture didn't just send Steve into a tailspin. Why was that so hot? When did his nerdy friend (boyfriend?) become so smooth?

Eddie chuckled before leaning back in. He pressed a light kiss to the side of Steve's lips, sweet enough for him to know it would be burned into his memory until the end of time, "Like you have to ask."