#This turned out way longer than intended

[livinginadumpster]

One thing I really like in Dead Boy Detectives is the use of blood/gore/horror. With a TV-MA rating, a show with horror themes is obviously going to have some blood and violence, and there are clear instances if this in DBD, but while it's definitely there, it's almost never gratuitous. That's because scenes like the Devlin murders or Maxine's death aren't really about those deaths, rather, they're about the characters' reactions to them and the way the story is shaped by them.

In the Devlin house, the camera focuses not on the girls being killed but on Edwin, Crystal, and particularly Charles reacting to their murders with horror, shock, and anger. The blood splatters in a meaningful way, rather than simply a horrifying one, over the TV and the popcorn and the younger daughter's stuffed rabbit, tarnishing the innocence of everything it touches. While the tragedy of the murders themselves are important, the main focus is Charles' reaction to them as a result if his own trauma. Showing the minutia of the killings would take away from that, so it simply isn't there.

Even Maxine's death, while definitely played off more for shock value than the Devlin murders, serves a purpose. Episode 5 focuses on the failure of romantic relationships, on betrayals from those you thought you could trust, and the Maxine subplot adds to that. It begs the question, who can you trust in this world? At the end of the episode, the answer we are given is your friends, your found family, because love will kill.

It seems to me that the blood in hell represents the guilt of those it touches - Simon's wounds heal when he forgives himself; Edwin loses the blood covering him after Charles turns up to rescue him (albeit by a horrifying cause); the people in the Lust room are drenched in blood and get it on Edwin when they try to drag him down. It's not just there to demonstrate the horrors of hell, but to brand its inhabitants.

There are lots of other examples. The blood when Niko dies is there obviously because that's what happens when you get stabbed, but also (in my opinion) as a visual callback to her saying that red is the color of courage. The cat king's bloody corpse and Monty's blood-splattered face show Esther's ruthlessness and disregard for anyone in her path. Lilith is covered in blood as a symbolic part of her character design. Everything serves a purpose, narratively or symbolically.

(The only example of gore that served no particular purpose that I can think of was in episode one when the WWI ghost drooled blood all over Charles' face, but it was the pilot episode and that whole scene was meant to be shocking, so it can be forgiven.)

Anyway, I really like the way they use blood in DBD, because it shows such a level of detail and care. I enjoy horror but not gore so much, and to me it's refreshing to see it used so tastefully and executed so well.

[messiahzzz]

while it’s perfectly fine to have your own headcanons that are non-canon compliant — by all means, go wild. recognizing pieces of yourselves in fictional characters can be a very healing and validating experience. this is nonetheless a casual, well-intentioned reminder that gale, in fact, does not have bpd.

bpd is a pervasive pattern of instability affecting interpersonal relationships, self-image, and mood. the disorder is marked by impulsivity beginning in early adulthood and is present in a variety of contexts. a diagnosis requires at least 5 of the following 9 criteria to be met:

Fear of abandonment

Unstable or changing relationships

Unstable self-image; struggles with identity or sense of self

Impulsive or self-damaging behaviors (e.g., excessive spending, unsafe sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, binge eating).

Suicidal behavior or self-injury

Varied or random mood swings

Constant feelings of worthlessness or sadness

Problems with anger, including frequent loss of temper or physical fights

Stress-related paranoia or loss of contact with reality

source: [x]

i highlighted the criteria that do apply to gale in one way or another in a pretty purple.

i personally believe that it’s rather harmful to equate his relationship with mystra with her being “his fp”. she is a deity, his goddess, and the source of his powers, who is in in full control of the magic he wields.

gale: mystra commands all magic. salvation, if such a thing exists, is hers to bestow or withhold.

gale has been effectively groomed and conditioned to serve and revere her at every turn since early childhood. imo this comparison really undermines a lot of crucial points in gale’s story that deal with his overall trauma and abuse. after all, you wouldn’t call shar sh*dowhe*rt’s fp either.

gale doesn’t revile mystra, nor does he commit benevolent deeds solely motivated by the secret hope that she will somehow notice and take him back. when you meet gale in the game he has already fully come to terms with the fact that he has been abandoned by mystra with no hope of reconciliation whatsoever. he also had some very fitting lines in ea regarding this topic that i'm sad haven't been repurposed in the full release in some way.

gale: [the tadpoles] don't know that some things are impossible. they don't know that... they don't know. player: what is impossible about what you're being shown? gale: forgiveness. gale: it is mystra i see. and yet it cannot be her. there was a time when i would have believed - but no longer. gale: suffice it to say she would not bestow upon me the favors promised in these dreams. that is how i know they are delusions.

he has already reached the stage of acceptance. moreover, gale only starts to realize that mystra might have been in the wrong for requesting his death once the tadpole squad & tav speak some sense into him. and even then he doesn’t ever show that his emotions regarding mystra are anywhere along those lines. he is instead rightfully angered that she only saw value in his death, after he had been worshipping her loyally for years.

gale: i worshipped mystra loyally for years, and in that time she granted me the barest sliver of the power i was ready to wield. gale: even with the fate of the world at stake, she had little more to offer me than the means of blowing myself up at a more convenient time. she's done nothing to help us.

gale: you abandoned me in my hour of greatest need. i had no obligation to help you in yours. gale: because you had no right to ask that of me. you cast me out, remember?

gale doesn’t display rapid changes in mood either. he is a character who is generally very composed and has been known to remain nonchalant even in the face of utter horror. tim downie himself even commented on this once. source: [x]

the only instance i can think of is his sudden switch from resigned-to-death to utter-eye-sparkling-enthusiasm once he spots the crown of karsus. apart from crucial story reasons that i won’t touch upon in this post, i’d also like to add that it’s a rather common phenomenon for people who have just barely survived a suicide attempt to suddenly be filled with zeal and unbridled energy. he doesn't display impulsivity without thorough consideration when it comes to its acquisition either. he considers this a golden opportunity and is positively enthusiastic and elated that this might prove an alternative to him ending up in a cloud of netherese smoke. nonetheless, he knows what he is doing. evident in him actually succeeding in ascending in one of his endings.

gale: this is no passing whim, trust me. if i can obtain that crown, it will affect us all. it is not a decision i'll take lightly. gale: it's our future that i'm thinking of - we can't rely on anyone else to do it for us. gale: for now - we've learned all we can.

neither are his relationships that we do know of (namely elminster, tara, and morena) frequently changing. they are marked by years of mutual respect, care, and consistency. there is nothing unstable about them. while it's important to note that his relationship with tav is still in its honeymoon stages during the main game, there is no inclination of any push-and-pull dynamic between them whatsoever.

gale isn’t preoccupied with keeping up some sort of benevolent act in order to win (back) affection — he genuinely IS a good person and he proves this at every turn. moreover, to have a tressym become your familiar you must be of Good alignment.

(taken from tumblr user galedekarios's post.)

there is never a moment where his ideals or alignment suddenly change. in fact, i’d argue that he and wyll are most consistent in this regard when compared to the rest of the companions. gale makes his moral standpoint very clear from the beginning on and also explicitly states that he believes that in order to survive this entire ordeal it would be selfish of him if he wouldn’t be willing to compromise on his morals. this isn’t a sudden bout of ✨muahahaha wizard hubris✨ that he barely contained to hold in before, this is yet another act of selflessness — it is what he’s willing to do for the group and subsequently, the welfare of faerun.

player: i love unsavoury things. don't feel guilty on my account. gale: that's good to know. although i should say i do what i do out of a sense of utility and pragmatism, not a love of the unsavoury. gale: we're up against the greatest threat faerun has ever faced. i don't mind getting my hands dirty if it gives us a better chance of surviving. gale: whatever advantage i can gain for us. i will. and i refuse to feel guilty for it, no matter how much mystra's chidings might echo in my skull.

this is him, once again trying to be useful in whatever way he can. to give them an advantage, a slither of hope against seemingly impossible odds, so they might make it out of this in one piece. gale wouldn’t approve of those actions under normal circumstances, but their predicament is as far from any definition of “normal” as it can get.

gale is no fool, he realizes this is essentially about survival. he knows that he has no option left other than to tolerate, which is why he can be convinced to not immediately depart tav’s company even if they choose to commit atrocities. this is no character flaw of his or him displaying a previously dormant openness for cruelty, this is about recognizing the necessity.

player: you don't stand a chance alone. you're free to go. i dare you. gale: gods damn you - you're right. few things are more powerful than the will to live.

gale: i thought the orb to be the greatest of my sins, but i see now that there are darker depths to which i might yet sink. you may be content to sink into that abyss, but i assure you - i am not.

gale doesn’t lead a split existence. he has a very strong sense of identity. he knows what he wants, what he doesn’t want and he isn’t shy in expressing his boundaries either. which he has especially shown when it comes to his relationship with tav. i originally had intended to touch upon this in another post entirely but: i firmly believe his entire Gale of Waterdeep™ persona is more of a performance than him struggling to find a sense of identity and trying them on for size. it is an intentional decision to separate gale dekarios from the great wizard of waterdeep, to create distance and make sure his family name remains untarnished in case things should ever go sideways.

gale: i agree. and on the plus side, if i get myself into any truly cataclysmic straits during the remainder of our journey, my family name will go untarnished.

there is also a deep-rooted feeling of unworthiness and his firm belief that love and praise are conditional resources that he will only be granted through his talents alone, naturally. presenting himself as gale dekarios, the man, would mean highlighting his shortcomings and very human flaws, while distracting from the aspects of himself that are deemed praiseworthy, the ones that actually matter: his magical prowess.

i personally believe that part of the beauty of gale’s story is him realizing just how “little” it takes for him to be truly content. he gets his happy ending, with someone at his side who truly sees him, understands him and unabashedly commits to him. they worship and adore him in return — and it is well deserved. he isn’t reduced to be constantly and restlessly searching for some unattainable ideal to fill the gaping void within himself. he doesn’t secretly thirst for more power still or believes that in being with tav he is settling for something. instead, he is finally happy to just be. be and be accepted. teaching a class of unruly wizards and coming home to his spouse each day already fulfills him.

gale: that's how i feel with you - content. it's a rather unfamiliar feeling, i must say. not something gale of waterdeep ever craved.

even if he doesn’t pursue a romance with tav, he reaches a realization of “oh, it appears i am not irredeemably flawed and only able to reach true redemption through my own death. what i needed was actually with me all along.” throughout their journey and through his friend's support. i think that’s a very powerful and comforting message. he is very well capable of finding peace within himself.

devnotes: his default state is that he returned to waterdeep and became a professor of illusory magic at his former school, blackstaff academy. general vibe here is that this is a gale who's found peace with himself - he's a great teacher, one his students are mostly in awe of.

to repeat myself: sharing your headcanons is all in good fun, nor should you ever be discouraged from doing so. this is your personal tumblr experience, after all. but i personally think we should be mindful of unintentionally perpetuating negative stereotypes, such as narcissism being a general indicator or being deemed a classic depiction of bpd. i think we can all agree that the continuous longing for acceptance, connection, praise, and approval is something we all have in common deep down, regardless of whatever disorder we may have. [insert victoria justice meme here]

gale may be many things to many people, but he is no entitled narcissist.

[kirasworldofwords]

Webbonso + 55. Mutual Pining (+ Oblivious)

The Webbonso crowd has found me- Ngl though, although I'm not the biggest fan of Mark for obvious reasons (I'm more of a Seb person, lmao, and yk what happened with them), I do love myself some Webbonso. 🫶🏻

Prompt 55: Mutual Pining (+ Oblivious)

How many more times did Fernando want to watch as they created a disaster situation for PR through just... existing together, knowing what the fans screamed was a deep and personal wish on his part?

How many more times was Mark willing to let it all happen without going absolutely batshit crazy at the prospect of being seen as someone more than a friend to Fernando?

How many more times would they be able to stay silent? Unknowing if the other reciprocated their feelings or not?

Fernando had tried a few times - or, well, at least attempted to try. Whenever it got too serious, however, he backed out, afraid of Mark's reaction. And the Australian would just brush it off as Fernando being Fernando - he liked to bullshit around here or there, both on and off track. That was just his personality.

But he, too, had tried spilling his feelings to Fernando at least a few times already, too. Yet every time he even so much as thought of actually doing it, bile rose in his throat and he had to physically turn away, so as to not throw up on whatever was ahead of him at the time.

In short, Mark's pride literally made him sick whenever he tried to be vulnerable with the Spaniard.

Many nights, Fernando would stay up until the early morning hours, staring at the ceiling, journaling. He had found out not too much prior to him realizing he had a thing for Mark that journaling really helped him with his emotions.

Likewise, many times, Mark would stay awake as well, writing poems pleading with the world to finally give him the mental as well as physical strength to overcome his pride and finally say what he knew he needed to say to Fernando - or he'd write love letters to the Aston Martin driver, yet he'd always stuff them away immediately after proof-reading and correcting them, for fear Fernando would make fun of him if he ever found them.

One such letter, however... made its way into the wilderness that was Mark's bedroom one fateful day. The same day Fernando happened to be over for a beer or two.

His mind had been all over the place, uncertain and confused, scared on top of it all, too. Yet it was just as lovesick as it was terrified, the secret love he held for Mark soon overpowering the fear in the very core of his heart, to the point where he'd randomly cry to himself.

If Michael had been there, he'd have told Fernando to man up already and finally tell Mark.

If Sebastian had been there, he'd have told Mark to face his fears and let Fernando know, for his own sanity as well as the Spanish driver's, who must've already noticed by then - and he must've been so worried for his friend, too.

"But he doesn't see me like that" they'd both tell themselves, trying to think in relative terms whenever thoughts of confession so much as briefly came up.

Until Fernando found one of Mark's letters.

Under the guise of needing to use the bathroom, he snuck the piece of paper with him, locking himself in and sitting down on the closed lid of the toilet to read what the former Red Bull pilot had written there.

Only when his eyes finally fully registered a few wet spots on the paper, Fernando realized that he was crying. And his heart was racing, and it ached so much, and everything was unbearable and he felt so stuffed and trapped and-

"Nando? Are you okay in there? Do you need any help?"

Out. Out, out, he had to get out, right now...!

The door to the bathroom clicked and swung open, so suddenly that it almost gave the older Australian whiplash. What did give him whiplash, however, was the sight he received immediately after his brain finally adjusted to the sudden occurrences, eyes going wide in shock.

There, Fernando stood, tears rolling down his cheeks as he held a piece of paper in his left hand, in a way that almost screamed at Mark that Fernando wanted him to see it.

The Aussie's heart dropped, down to his smallest toe.

"Fernando... I... I can explain-"

But the Spanish man was quicker, rushing towards Mark and pressing their lips together in a kiss that took both of them by surprise - so much so, Mark couldn't even respond to it in any way there was, causing him to just stand there, pale-faced and absolutely horrified one minute before blushing like crazy the next. The paper Fernando held was long disregarded, having floated to the ground already, somewhere next to Fernando's feet. The younger man held Mark's face in his hands instead, in a slightly tighter grip than intended of him, as he glared at the Australian through glistening tears.

"Cállate, cabrón."

Before he could attempt to kiss Mark anew, the adrenaline and emotions in his system running as high as they never did before, Mark held him in place, pushing his hands against Fernando's chest to hold him back and looking at him worriedly.

"Nando, you know I don't speak Spanish..."

The wildly emotional look on Fernando's face softened at the sound of Mark's voice, which was barely above a whisper at this point, one last tear of high emotion betraying the Spaniard as it rolled down his cheek.

"I said shut up, asshole. ... And let me kiss you instead."

The tone of which Fernando made use was enough to cause Mark to smile gently, yet his words only deepened it, and he retreated his hands from the Aston Martin pilot's chest to reposition them on his waist instead.

"Gladly."

This time, both went into the kiss with clear intentions and expectations, both of which were met and fulfilled, executed perfectly, one might say. To them, it felt like an eternity and a half - though in reality, it was more like two minutes of them just standing there, in front of the open bathroom of which the light was turned on, still, both of them having forgotten the world around them and simply focusing on each other and themselves as they kissed without a care.

Once they did gently break apart again, however, Mark brought their foreheads together, nosing at Fernando's nose with his own.

"I thought you didn't see me in that way..."

The Spaniard chuckled brokenly, closing his eyes.

"What a coincidence... I thought the same of you."

They fell silent. For about five minutes, all they did was breathe in each other's air, reveling in the other's sheer presence. Soon, Fernando murmured almost inaudibly.

"... So... both of us had feelings for the other all this time..."

Mark didn't do much more than nod at this, maybe he hummed in tow, he couldn't quite tell. There was a noise, yes, but his mind was so far out of it, he couldn't tell who or what it came from. Could've just been a random outside noise for all he cared.

"Does that mean... I get to call you mine...? I've been hoping and praying for so long for a miracle like this to happen someday, and for us to find our ways to each other soon..."

Fernando smiled gratefully at the carefully curated words that left Mark's mouth, pecking his lips again shortly.

"Call me whatever you want... So long as I get to call you mi amor, I'm all fine with it."

The sight of his favorite Spaniard smiling like that was contagious, Mark had to admit - because he found himself smiling just the same way Fernando was.

"You got yourself a deal there, Nando."

[afewproblems]

A Clear and Present Threat of Tongue

Sooooo this idea shook me like a rag doll and wouldn't let me go until I got it all out, this is a Steddie Stranger Things New Girl AU taking place during the first kiss episode between Jess and Nick. But its waaay longer and more angsty than I anticipated. So.

Enjoy!

It’s all Gareth's fault in hindsight. 

As his best friend and confidant, Gareth really should have taken Eddie’s feelings into account when he suggested a party out loud in front of everyone.

Not that the party was a particularly bad idea, parties had been prime money making opportunities in the years before - although that had certainly dwindled, what with the murder accusations and earthquakes. 

And Eddie was trying to make it a point of avoiding dealing around the kids or Hoppers disapproving glare.

So no, it wasn't so much the party.

Steve had taken it upon himself to host, as per usual, and everyone had been invited. The gremlins, Nancy and Jonathan, Argyle, Gareth, Jeff, and Robin of course without question. Gareth brought Megan Walsh with him while Robin brought another underclassman, Vickie something, she seemed cool - a little quiet for Eddie's taste but that wouldn’t be the only reason she didn’t do it for him.

Nah, Eddie was looking for something a little taller, louder, with big brown eyes and plush pink lips he wanted to sink his teeth into and an ass that wouldn’t quit even if he begged. 

And Eddie didn’t beg.

It was an end of summer pool party that had extended beyond the warm sunshine and moved into the main house when the last few rays had swapped for the cool twilight of the evening. 

There had been no shortage of food and drinks and a few tokes in the garage from the decent Cali strain Argyle had brought with him. The kids had gone to bed one by one leaving the rest of them to move down to the basement as Steve had put it, ‘to keep the noise to a minimum while the little shits sleep’.

The combination of weed and beer had them floating in the sweet-spot, not that everyone had partaken - Argyle and Jonathan stuck to weed only while the girls nursed their beers.

Eddie, Gareth and Jeff were the only three that were on the floor and feeling alright by the time midnight had rolled around. 

“We should play a game,” Gareth says, blurting out the words from his place on the floor, he’s grinning a little with glazed eyes and wild hair splayed around his head like a halo.

And this, this should have been Eddie’s first warning. 

Now Uncle Wayne had a great rule, a fantastic rule, ‘Nothing good ever happens after midnight kiddo, remember that’.

Eddie should have listened to the old man.

Jeff hums lightly from the floor and Megan perks up at the idea, shifting up to the edge of the couch, trying to catch Gareth's glazed eyes.

"What kind of game?" She says, her voice lilting and curious, Eddie smirks and elbows Gareth in the side.

Gareth huffs out a groan at the contact and rolls slightly to level a glare at the metal-head, Eddie raises his eyebrows and darts his eyes from Gareth to Megan before raising a single eyebrow. 

Go for it man! 

Gareth cocks his head, a confused expression pulling at his brow as his red eyes pan from Eddie to the other side of the room and back again. 

Nowhere near Megan.

Just as Eddie makes to turn to wherever Gareth is looking, a small grin blooms on his best friend's otherwise lax face, the bassist sits up with a groan and shakes out his own wild mane of curls.

"Truth or Dare?"

"Choice game brochacho," Argyle laughs from the loveseat he's laid out across, Jonathan nods with his eyes closed. Everyone seems pleased with the situation if the chorus of 'sure's', and  'sounds good,' is anything to go by. 

Even Steve - who Eddie can’t help but notice has also stuck to beer most of the night and seems slightly tipsy as he wanders over from the far side of the room and drops onto the floor beside him. 

Steve says a quiet, 'cool,' as he brings his one knee up to his chest to lean on.

He smells of spice and pine tonight and Eddie fights the urge to curl against him.

Nancy volunteers to go first and picks dare, surprising everyone except for Jonathan and Steve, who laugh as Robin stumbles her way through crafting the perfect task for Nancy to perform.

Vickie whispers into Robin’s ear which elicits a delicate blush that settles over Robin’s cheeks and ears as she settles back against the couch with a soft smile.

“We dare you to do a cartwheel!” Robin crows, laying out her palm towards Vickie who immediately gives her an unapologetic high-five, Eddie rolls his eyes and nudges Steve beside him. 

“I expected better than that coming from Buckley,” he says just slightly over a whisper level if the death glare Robin shoots at him is any indication, Steve snorts and takes another sip of his drink.

“She’s just warming up Munson, you better watch out or you’ll paint a target on your back,” Steve stage whispers back, winking as he turns his attention to Nancy who has cleared a pathway next to their little circle to attempt her cartwheel. 

Eddie swallows and tries to fight down the blush that threatens to creep over his face. 

Fuck. He is so unfairly pretty. 

Steve's hair is remarkably untidy this evening, and his ears are slightly pink from the alcohol, and his stupid perfect jawline makes Eddie want to bite something - preferably Steve. 

He’s wearing one of his little polo’s, a light yellow number that accentuates his bright brown eyes and the dotting of moles and freckles dappling his face. 

Oh yeah, Eddie’s a goner. 

Nancy manages to half somersault and land on all fours before jumping to her feet in an Olympic pose that draws a mix of laughter and applause from the group. Eddie watches as Steve puts down his drink and politely claps as he smiles indulgently at Nancy, Eddie frowns slightly as he tamps down a flicker of jealousy that builds in his chest. 

He misses Robin stand up and stride towards Nancy before leaning in to whisper in her ear with a predatory grin. Nancy’s eyes drift from Robin to Eddie and back again, she nods once and turns back to the group, her facial expression betraying nothing. 

“Oh dude, you’re in for it now,” Steve murmurs to Eddie as Nancy and Robin resume their seats in the circle.

“What?” Eddie says as Nancy clears her throat and smiles at him, it's cutthroat and shark-like and Eddie is suddenly reminded why he’s always found Nancy intimidating.

“Eddie, truth or dare?” Nancy says in a silky voice, Jonathan seems to freeze at the tone and attempts to catch his eye, shaking his head like a mad-man and slicing a finger across his throat again and again, while Steve laughs softly beside him.

“Uh, Pft, Dare Wheeler,” Eddie says with a scoff and a wide grin, he stands up and starts stretching his arms across his chest, before cracking his neck and shaking out his shoulders, “just need to loosen up first here,” he claps his hands together, “okay what sort of gymnastics you got for me miss Nancy?”

Jonathan smacks his face into his hand in the corner while Robin giggles to Vickie, Eddie catches a few muttered words, but nothing concrete. Judging from the red face and ‘O’ shaped mouth that Vickie sends his way, it's definitely not good. 

Nancy clears her throat and waves her hand to catch his attention again, “eyes this way Munson,” she says slyly, and Eddie is suddenly sweating. 

“Eddie Munson, I dare you to take the person sitting closest to you into the spare bedroom for seven minutes in heaven. 

No one says a word for a moment. 

Eddie wishes for the basement floor to open and swallow him whole. He stares at the plush fibers of the rug, wondering if it would be at all possible to smother himself by pushing his face into the carpet. 

He absolutely refuses to look at Steve. 

The only person sitting beside him. 

He should have listened to the old man. 

***

Eddie paces the small space again and again, its five steps from wall to wall and it does nothing to ease the tension in the room. He tries to figure out how to tamp down the seemingly permanent flush that has stained his face since the two of them were pushed into the room. 

The door has been unceremoniously slammed shut behind them and a chorus of eight voices chant, ‘Kiss, Kiss, Kiss!’ over and over outside their temporary prison.

Damn Gareth for suggesting this stupid game, damn Nancy and Robin for conspiring against him and damn himself for his ridiculous delusional fantasy. 

Steve Harrington would never want to kiss someone like him, even if he did swing that way.

This was stupid and awful, damn everything.

Steve scoffs from his position on the foot of the bed, startling Eddie slightly.

“What is the big deal,” Steve sounds much more sober, and a lot more tired now that it's just the two of them, “lets just suck it up and french a little?”

Eddie nearly feels himself short-circuit at the words. 

He resists the urge to smack his head into the door and slowly turns on his heel to face Steve. 

His expression is bored, if slightly irritated to be stuck in this situation, but his arms are draped loosely on the bed and his shoulders are relaxed.

Huh. Not nervous then, but there is something else…

Eddie sighs and scrubs a ringed hand across his face, "Okay fine, but don’t say suck it up and french a little--"

"Do not complain to me Munson," Steve grumbles, his voice suddenly tight, "this is your fault. Let’s just do this," he shakes his hands out, Eddie notes the slightest tremor that runs over his left hand but it disappears the longer Eddie's gaze remains on it.

Fuck.

"Okay, okay, no, Steve this is not a big deal," Eddie says, his tone is light but gentle as he crosses over to the bed, he holds out his hands for Steve to take. 

Steve's eyes travel from his hands to Eddie's face, and back again. His expression flickers once before shuttering into the same bored expression from earlier. Steve clasps his hands once and squeezes them briefly before letting go and standing up to face Eddie.

"Right…not a big deal, let's just do it," Steve mumbles as he breathes out, he closes his eyes briefly and Eddie's never been this close before, he can count the freckles on his nose, "just do it Eds".

Oh god, oh god, he’s about to kiss Steve Harrington, this is fine, it's fine. It’s just a stupid party game, he can do this, he can be cool.

Eddie takes a deep breath, and raises his hands to grasp Steve by the shoulders before smoothing them down his arms, he leaves them loosely wrapped around his biceps, and Okay who the Hell gave him the right?

Focus.

He licks his lips and swallows his nerves, he can do this, he can do this!

Steve frowns, “Why are you licking your lips?” his voice pitched with confusion.

He can’t do this. 

“Should I not?” Eddie manages to say without stuttering, he coats his voice with false bravado as he rolls his shoulders and widens his stance, “you want dry lips Harrington?”

Steve scowls, “No”.

“Then I’m just licking them to make them better!” 

A pinched expression blooms over Steve’s face at the sudden rise in volume in Eddie’s words, he resists the urge to wipe the clammy sweat from his hands and instead lifts them from Steve’s biceps to his shoulders before placing his hands on the sides of Steve's face. Eddie’s fingers curl up into his hair behind each ear and Eddie swears for a moment he can feel Steve tilt his head into his hands -just slightly. 

“Ready?” Eddie murmurs, the earlier bravado gone as his eyes dart back and forth between Steve’s own. He’s looking just slightly up at Eddie, the barest hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Ready,” Steve affirms with a small nod that jostles Eddie's hands.

“Okay,” Eddie breathes out through his nose slowly, “1, 2 -- I’m actually not going to do a count,” he lets go of Steve’s face, it’s too much, it’s ridiculous and Eddie feels as though he’s about to fly apart at any moment.

Steve doesn’t move but his eyes trail after Eddie's hands as they fall from his face before coming back up to meet Eddie’s gaze, “Okay?”

Eddie swallows, it feels like glass going down, this is not how he saw his night going, “That's not my style, when I kiss, I don’t, I don’t count down…”

Steve snorts and smiles slightly, biting his lip as he says, “Okay”.

Eddie breathes in sharply as Steve releases his lip to speak, he shakes his head once and reaches out with slightly unsteady hands, to grip Steve’s face once more, “Ready?”

Steve nods again, “Yes,” he’s looking up at Eddie with those warm brown eyes and long lashes and Eddie feels like he's going to faint.

Just move, he thinks to himself, just kiss him and then he can leave, never darken the door of the Harrington house again. He can pretend this never happened and go back to pining from afar. 

Eddie steels himself and tilts his head as he leans in slowly, he sweeps his thumb across Steve’s cheekbone, he can do this, he can do this. He continues moving forward as Steve suddenly rears back with a gasp.

There’s a slight tremor in his voice, as Steve says, “I’m, I’m sorry, you can’t do that…”

Eddie jerks backwards, “What did I do?” he cries out, he flings his hands away from Steve’s face, holding them up in something akin to surrender. He wracks his brain, running through the last thirty seconds, trying to think of what could have freaked Steve out this badly.

“Your fa-” Steve starts before clamping his mouth shut with a sharp click. He’s curling in on himself now, one arm slides up from his side to grasp his other arm.

It’s Eddie’s turn to stare.

“Were you, were you going to say my face?” Eddie says quietly, stepping back from Steve entirely, his now empty fists clench and unclench at his sides. There’s a flicker of anger an hurt in his chest, what the fuck did that mean?

They stare at each other for a moment, Eddie waits for Steve to elaborate but all he gets is a silent grimace.

“Yeah,” Steve says weakly, after a beat, his eyes anywhere but Eddie’s own, “you just…you can’t do that with your face dude”.

"Don’t call me dude right now," Eddie growls, breathing in deeply through his nose, this whole situation has been fucked from the start and he can't take it anymore. He's done.

“Okay, yeah, okay,” Eddie mutters before crossing the space to the closed door and pounding the flat of his palm against it, “Let me out of here!”

Behind him, Steve sighs as he moves over to the wall of the spare bedroom and slides down it until he’s seated with his legs splayed out. 

But Eddie doesn't care, he doesn't. He had prepared himself for this, he knew Steve wouldn't possibly feel the same way and now it was definitive. 

That didn't stop it from stinging.

Eddie growls as he tries for the handle again and the brass does nothing but rattle rather than turn.

“Why does this door lock from the outside? That can’t be safe,” Eddie mutters to himself as he turns away from the door to face Steve once more, he leans back against it and breathes out a sigh as the chorus of, ‘Kiss, Kiss, Kiss’ renews itself with vigor just outside.

Steve sighs again and raises both hands to rub down his face before dropping them heavily to the floor on either side of him, he stares at the wall for a moment before his expression flattens again. 

He looks up at Eddie with determination in his eyes before bringing his legs up to stand. 

“Okay,” Steve says softly, as he steps towards where Eddie is leaning against the door, “let’s just do this already, just kiss me--”

“No.” Eddie firmly huffs, he crosses his arms in front of his chest and nearly knocks his head against the door as he realizes there is nowhere else to go, “I don’t--I’m not gonna kiss you”.

Steve pauses in his approach, he seems so much smaller than normal, and Eddie hates every moment of this.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Steve says quietly, he reaches up to pinch the tip of his nose and clears his throat, “you said it yourself, it’s not a big deal. If you don't want to do this that's, it's fine, you know how stubborn they are, I don't think they meant to lock the door--”

“I can’t--” Eddie cuts across him but Steve is still talking.

“I’m sorry that you got stuck with me,” Steve bites out, running a hand through his hair as he steps backwards now, away from Eddie, and sits on the end of the bed, “and I’m sorry that I got all weird just now, but--”

Eddie just can’t take it any longer.

“No Steve,” he says shrilly, not caring if the assholes outside the door are listening, not caring if the Loch Nora neighbors can hear him, not caring if the kids upstairs wake up, “It's, I just can’t, not like this!”

It takes a second for the words to register, they seem to float between them for a moment before each man registers what’s been said.

Steve stills on the bed, he doesn’t even look like he’s breathing, “What,” Steve says softly, “what, what does that mean?” 

Oh Fuck.

“Nothing,” Eddie blurts out, his heart is racing, the air is stale and thin in the basement bedroom and Eddie feels like he can’t breathe, “I didn’t mean it like, I just, we can’t like that because it's not, you know?”

Steve stares at him from the bed, “...what?”

Eddie has to leave, he can’t be in this room anymore, pinned to the door by a pair of soft brown eyes that have pinched in the middle into a confused and terrible frown.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Eddie says quietly, briskly walking past Steve and the bed as he moves towards the far wall with the single window.

“Where are you going? Eddie!” 

For the second time that night Eddie finds himself wishing he had listened to his old man. 

Attempting to climb out the window of the basement spare bedroom may not have been his best plan; as he hoisted himself up to the ledge, which was already up a good five feet at least, and popped the screen off, deaf to whatever words Steve was hissing at him, Eddie found himself sitting halfway in a window-well. 

About two feet from the open ground above.

And that was before his studded belt caught on the window ledge. 

“Fucking hell,” Eddie grits out as he shifts backwards only for the belt to wrench him back into place, no, no, no, this couldn’t be happening.

He hears a sigh behind him along with a low string of curses as quiet footsteps move away towards the far side of the room. Seven knocks sound on what he can only assume is the door in a strange pattern that halts the chant from the basement sitting room. A muffled voice he can’t quite make out says something that Steve responds to.

“Open up the goddamn door Buckley or I’ll never cover another morning shift again, we have a situation in here,” he says in a small, defeated voice. 

It all happens fairly quickly after that. 

Between Jeff, Nancy, and Argyle’s careful maneuvering they manage to extricate him from the window and lower him back to the floor. Nothing had prepared Eddie for the hot, tight feeling that would fill his chest as Argyle and Jeff snicker and high-five once he is back on solid ground. Nancy is smiling but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes as she looks from Steve and back to Eddie, expression slowly morphing into one of concern.

Robin is standing with Steve, both of them lean against the far back wall by the now open door. They seem to be having an intense whisper fight that ends with Steve storming out back into the main sitting room. 

Argyle knocks into him, suddenly draping an arm over Eddie’s shoulders and snatching his attention away from Robin and Steve. He herds Eddie forward on slightly unsteady legs to follow the rest of his rescue party as they all make their way out of the spare bedroom.

“That was freakin’ hilarious dude,” Argyle says with a warm laugh and bright, slightly hazy eyes,  “I mean Steve, Steve, he tried to climb out the window instead of kissing you, can you believe that?”

Steve stiffens from his new position on the loveseat but shakes his head after a beat and laughs; the sound rings hollow, a pale imitation to his usual beautiful laugh, “Eh, Robin just gets to add another tally to the ‘You Suck’ board, that’s all man”.

Argyle laughs and claps Eddie’s shoulder lightly one last time before moving towards Jonathan and Jeff, the trio grab a lighter from the coffee table and head back upstairs for another toke.

Robin and Nancy go back to join Vickie on the couch, their heads bent together in conversation, both girls looking up at Steve from time to time. 

Steve, meanwhile, is steadfastly staring at the floor.

I’m an idiot, Eddie thinks miserably to himself as he takes a seat on the floor next to Gareth who doesn't seem to have moved since his suggestion of Truth or Dare. 

"Hey man," Gareth says, turning his head slightly to see him better, "how'd it go?" 

Eddie says nothing, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers; he wants to tell Gareth about how much of a disaster the night was, how he's ruined everything way more than he could ever dreamed of and he still didn't get a kiss out of it.

"That well huh?" Gareth hums as he sits up and brings his legs in to sit cross-legged. 

The party has wound down significantly at this point, Steve has disappeared from the basement and Nancy has loudly announced she is leaving if anyone needs a ride home. Robin and Vickie trail after her with Megan not far on their heels, she sends an irritated glare their way, most likely directed at Gareth more-so than himself.

"Weird," Gareth mumbles, dragging his arm across his eyes clumsily, "I figured that would'a worked, with all the puppy-dog eyes he's been givin' you lately".

"What, uh, what?" Eddie says sharply, he must have heard him wrong or the weed has finally gotten to them, Gareth did not--

"Oh man, yeah I figured the Truth or Dare would totally give you an opening dude, you seemed on board?" 

Eddie's heart is racing now, his palms sweaty, what the fuck is he talking about?

"I mean you should've seen Harrington's face when you went in, all sunny an' shit, it's that Doe face you're always talking about--" 

"Gareth!" Eddie hisses, his face burning and shoulders tight, he stands up startling the other man as he paces the now empty sitting room.

He takes a deep breath and then another, bringing his hands up to press into his eyes roughly. 

"Okay, okay, so you're telling me," he says slowly, dropping his hands to his sides, "that you think Steve, Steve Harrington," he points a shaky finger to the ceiling, "is in to me?"

Gareth blinks, his eyebrows slowly climb into his wild curly hair, "Uh yeah dude".

He says it like it's the simplest thing in the universe. One plus one is two, the sky is blue, and Steve Harrington has feelings for one Eddie Munson. 

And suddenly, the words from earlier, the brittle broken sentence Steve uttered in their temporary prison, makes much more sense.

"I’m sorry that you got stuck with me". 

Steve thought Eddie had been stuck with him? 

Steve thought Eddie had been stuck with him?

The soft looks, small touches, and blinding grins, each tiny moment over the last few months tumble and fall together.

Oh God…

"...I am an idiot," Eddie whispers as he turns on his heel and makes his way to the stairs.

"Yeah! Get him dude!" Gareth calls after him as he flips back into the plush carpet with a laugh. 

Eddie wanders the dark main floor, tiptoeing through the living room, avoiding a sea of sleeping bags and pillowed heads of the kids as he goes, there is a faint light ahead of him coming from the staircase to the second floor. 

He makes his way up, careful to avoid the fifth stair as, 'it always creaks,' and the last thing he needed was Dustin, or Max, or, Ozzy forbid, Mike, interrupting.

Eddie maneuvers down the familiar hallway, and halts when he gets to Steve's room. The door is slightly ajar and, at last he’s found the source of the soft yellow light spilling down the hall and stairwell.

Eddie tips the door open, wincing at the piercing creek of the hinges as it slowly swings open revealing Steve sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. He doesn’t look up as Eddie steps into the room. 

“Hey Stevie,” Eddie says softly. 

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, suddenly unsure how to proceed, and awkwardly stands in the doorway, the wall to wall plaid threatens to burn his retinas but he holds firm. 

There are a few things in here Steve has clearly placed himself, the plush area rug covering up most of the chic parquet flooring running through the rest of the house. A new yellow duvet that clashes with the red plaid wallpaper, but it's Steve's choice for once. The picture of the car has been replaced by a small cork board, it's covered from top to bottom in Polaroids of Steve and the kids, candids of Robin and Eddie, posed silly pictures of Jonathan and Argyle after a smoke session, and a few of Nancy and Jonathan sitting in the Byers kitchen at Thanksgiving, almost collage like but for the pins holding them in place.

The room has transformed over the last few months, and it never ceases to make Eddie smile.

“Hey Eds,” Steve sighs after a long beat.

He looks up to meet Eddie’s gaze, that same blank expression from earlier tonight painted on his otherwise handsome face. 

Eddie swallows, his heart rate ticking up once again as soft brown eyes hold him in place, if he chickens out again he swears he'll fling himself down the stairs, creaky step be damned.

He opens his mouth only for Steve to speak, slowly, quietly.

"I'm sorry," Steve murmurs, his voice cracking around the words, "if that was weird today, for you".

Eddie manages to keep his face impassive as he nods, but his heart aches at what he hears, “Yeah, I mean, no it wasn't weird, just…”

Steve sits with his shoulders squared and his spine straight, stiff and still even in his own bedroom, but with each word that leaves Eddie’s mouth the line of his body slowly begins to curl in on itself.

“Just, different”. 

Steve nods as his arms come up to wrap around himself again, he swipes his right hand up his bare arm up to the sleeve and down again and Eddie wants nothing more than to wrap him up in his own arms. 

Steve eventually puts his hands on his knees with a muffled clap and stands up, padding across the carpet towards the door, towards Eddie. 

"Well that's not the worst thing someone's called me so I'll take it," Steve says with a smirk, his big brown eyes pan between Eddie's own as though searching for something, he nods to himself.

“Oh yeah?” Eddie ventures, leaning against the open door frame, linking his ankles together as his weight shifts to one foot. 

He can’t have this, someone as kind and funny and good as Steve saying these things, thinking that Eddie thinks them too. 

Enough is enough.

Steve snorts, tipping his face down. A lock of hair falls into his eyes and once again, Eddie's fraying resolve finally snaps.

He pushes himself off the door frame with his shoulder, stepping into Steve’s space, and reaches out with one hand to card his fingers into Steve’s hair, pushing it out of his face.  

Steve freezes at the sudden touch and proximity, "What, Ed-"

The words are lost as Eddie leans his head down and captures Steve's open lips for a kiss. 

He feels Steve stiffen slightly in his arms. 

Shit.

Eddie moves to pull away, cursing his own stupidity, but as he tries to pull away, Steve curls his arms around Eddie's neck and tilts his head, stepping closer into his arms.

And it's fireworks. It’s hearing Dio for the first time all over again, it’s finding out he was going to be staying with Wayne permanently. It’s jamming out with Gareth and Jeff and losing themselves in the music.

It's Steve.

Eddie brings his hands up to curl over Steve’s cheek and into his hair once more, he brings his fingers into tangle with the soft waves and gives them an experimental tug, startling a small moan out of Steve.

Eddie smiles into the kiss and takes the opportunity to lick into his mouth, letting his tongue slide over Steves, he tastes slightly like beer but Eddie doesn’t care because he’s finally kissing, and kissing, and kissing him. 

Eddie breaks away after what feels like an eternity, leaning away just far enough to place a small kiss on Steve’s nose and both cheeks, which have slowly turned a pretty pink, the arms wrapped around his neck tighten slightly at the contact and Steve’s eyes flutter closed. 

“I meant something like that,” Eddie whispers before leaning in again, swallowing a laugh that escapes Steve with another soft kiss to his smiling lips.

"I thought," Steve mumbles, chewing his bottom lip with harsh teeth, "I thought I messed it all up downstairs," the words are wet as Steve sniffs once and tips his head onto Eddie's shoulder.

Eddie slips his hands down from Steve's face to bring him in closer, wrapping his arms around his waist, "you didn't mess anything up, I've been wanting to do that for a long time,” he whispers in Steve’s ear, earning a hitching laugh. 

“Me too Eds,” Steve mumbles into the fabric of his shirt, he pulls back slowly and tips his head up to meet Eddie’s gaze, “I think, I’ve been wanting to do that since you woke up in the hospital”.

“Sorry I took so long sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs against his lips, a smile tugging at the corners of his own.

Steve hums and closes his eyes before running his nose back and forth against the tip of Eddie’s own, “Well,” he says softly, “I can think of a few ways you can make it up to me”.

Eddie laughs brightly and kicks the bedroom door shut with a snap.

Maybe his Uncle Wayne wasn’t always right.

[cringefailvox]

finishing up this chapter either tonight or tomorrow but g-d willing it WILL be out this weekend

[splickedylit]

I know most of my new followers are for Homestuck but I just reread the entirety of Eyeshield 21 and: football manga good. So you'll have to forgive a brief interlude of "Splickedy's favorite minor character (and guests)" haha. Anyway do you think any of the gangsters Agon canonically cuckolded ever mistook Unsui for his twin brother and beat the shit out of him?? Ignore me.

...also tho relatedly I made a post about college Hiruma/Unsui in January and now I'm 26,000 words in, because,,, idk I've lost control of my life? Because "I realized in college that I'm queer and I have a million tons of repressed emotions behind a very cracked dam" is a big mood and maps onto Unsui too easily for me to resist? Because I'm still incredibly amused by the thought of how pissed off Agon would be if his brother started dating Hiruma? All of those things, lmao.

[whenits--notreal]

➼ Batman hits Tim shouting "YOU DON'T KNOW A DAMN THING" in Batman (2016) issue #71 (1) (2). It is later explained that this [Batman spinning Tim's jaw] was a form of communication, a "language" which they had established between themselves beforehand. In this language, what Batman said roughly translates to "shut up". No, I'm not joking, this was later explained in issue #81.

➼ The exchange between Bruce and Damian in which Batman very much breaks character is from Batman (2016) issue #145. Spoiler alert: it's not Bruce. The whole dialogue went smthn like:

D: …is it really you? B: It is. D: prove it. B: After you moved in with me… you couldn't sleep. Nightmares. I'd sit in your room with you until you'd finally drift off. /The next day you'd always pretend like it never happened. D: Father… B: I'm back, son …and nothing can stop us.

Despite it not actually being Bruce, I included this for 2 main reasons: 1 ) because it's so obviously not Bruce and still his kids go [in the next panel] "So, the big question is… is it actually Bruce…" and 2 ) because it precedes a POV change to the actual Bruce who is trynna survive solo and is having a cute flashback in #147 (1) (2).

➼ The panel showing Bruce staying at home with a sick Jason instead of going on patrol is from Red Hood and the Outlaws (2012) issue #3. It's pretty self-explanatory, Jason was too sick to go on patrol so Bruce was gonna go alone, but then he changed his mind and cancelled patrol for the night. This is real big tho cuz he prioritised his son over his mission for once (1) (2) (3).

Context: RH and the Outlaws were in a situation where they had to leave their "most cherished memories" with this guy called S'aru as collateral and this was the memory that was taken from Jason (he doesn't want the memory back after they're done with their mission ☹). Also, the art is gorgeous.

➼ The one where B says that Tim isn't his soldier but his son is from Batman (2016) #127. It's an internal dialogue between him and Zur (the other Batman who is a bit bonkers). It's like when he's physically faced with the personification of his Batman persona and his mission, he is finally able to wrap his head around the fact that Robin or not, his kids are his kids, not his soldiers. Otherwise when it's just him, he kinda just ignores the fact and pretends that he doesn't feel/act in two completely conflicting ways when his kids are in question (1) (2) (3). He's a hypocrite and I'm still salty at the "In memory of -- Robin -- A good soldier".

Anyway, it's pretty heartwarming that this was one of the only instances in which he was able to keep the Batman of Zur-en-Arrh in check.

➼ The "I love you, dad" is from the 2016 Nightwing Comics #100 and while I have certain... qualms about Tom Taylor and his writing (don't get me wrong, he's a technically good writer and I enjoy reading what he writes. I just don't like what he's done with the bigger picture if that makes sense-- anyway), I really like this moment and B+N's relationship throughout the past few issues.

For me, Dick is a character with sooo much baggage to unpack and, honestly, I believe he's almost as emotionally closed off as Batman is, he just wears a smile while he's at it and believes the best of people where Batman assumes the worst. But when it comes to his own personal emotions, he bottles them up like he's Doraemon's pouch and has space to spare.

Here though, Bruce takes the initiative, taking off his cowl, and finally says what needed to be said long ago. With no miscommunications! In fact, Bruce delivers with eloquence! And he apologises! It only took Alfie dying...

Anyway, here're the panels: (0) (0.5) (1) (2) (3) (4)

(Added in a few extra pages because Dick was getting the recognition he deserves)

➼ Now following the comic with the heartfelt conversation and Nightwing appreciation, we have the sixth panel: Bruce knocking out Dick's tooth. Yippee. And that would be from Batman (2011) #7. Dick is angry at B cuz he swiped a tissue sample from him without telling him then B just backhands (Backfists? backpunches?) one of Dick's molars right out of his mouth (1).

The reason was that there was evidence in that very molar that Dick was selected by the court of owls when he was young to be trained as an assassin. (2) Now here's the thing, B had no evidence and instead of idk telling Dick about his thoughts (and this is all happening as Dick is going off at Bruce for keeping secrets) and taking an x-ray or smthn, he forcefully knocks it out.

And then they just move on like what just happened was okay. There's not even a hint of remorse or the like, instead, B just rebukes Dick for "underestimating" the Court of Owls. Bro, he was max 8 years old when he was still in the circus, why would he think something happened then? Anyway, Snyder has a real propensity for writing Bruce as a wacko imo.

➼ The next one really pisses me off. Bruce swiping Dick across the face and shouting, "DON'T YOU DARE BLAME ME FOR JASON'S DEATH! DON'T YOU DARE!" is from The New Titans (1988) #55. Let's put aside the fact that yes, it is his fault that a barely 15 y/o kid was trapesing the streets in glorified underwear and making enemies of psychologically challenged, overqualified, criminal masterminds and was eventually brutally beaten to death by one of said criminal masterminds in some twisted parody of a love confession.

Dick comes back from an off-world mission with the Titans 2 weeks after Jason's funeral. He ends up finding out about Jay's death from this little twat who I'm not even gonna bother naming and then after confirming the news he goes to comfort Bruce. He prioritised comforting Bruce over his own hurt at not being called or told in any way.

Bruce, in turn, takes to being an antagonistic asshole like they didn't both just lose the same person and subtly blames Dick for how things turned out. Dick goes, 'hey don't blame me' and Bruce goes 'DON'T YOU DARE BLAME ME' with a side of punch-to-the-face (1). Bruce then continues to rage at his own decision to take a sidekick (twice) but in a way that puts the blame on them (them being Dick and Jason), then he sort of disowns (?) Dick, and stomps out like the toddler that he is (2).

I could honestly never be Alfred.

➼ The page showing Bruce beating Jason is from Red Hood and The Outlaws (2016) #25. Jason shoots the Penguin (he doesn't die but neither B nor J know that) and Batman subsequently tracks him and beats him down like the loving father he is and Bizarro has to come save him (dk how much worse B could've done tbh) (1) (2).

Anyone with eyes would be able to understand why Jason finds it so hard to believe his father-figure loves him. Cuz he doesn't blood well act like it

➼ Next is Batman driving Dick Grayson to his new home or "hell" as he put it (weirdo?) after he officially made him his ward (consent wasn't included in the package). This is set in the Arkham Knight universe and is from All Star Batman & Robin, The Boy Wonder #2. I'm not gonna link any more than that because the whole run stars a messed up Bruce.

Idk in what world, the symbol of Justice of a city would think it's okay to legally kidnap a recently orphaned child, gas them in your car, and call them "dense" or "retarded" when they ask the genuine question, who tf are you? And then he slaps him for grieving his dead parents because, and I quote, "Grief is the enemy. [...] There's no room for grief. Grief turns into acceptance. Forgiveness. Grief forgives what can never be forgiven. Never."

And then he attacks Alfred for feeding him because 'woe is me, I (voluntarily) survived on rats and without any help and I decree that this young 8-year-old does the same'.

➼ And finally, the last one (Batman beating Damian and sending him flying across the floor) is from the Battle of the Super Sons Movie. To his credit, Batman's body was taken over by this starfish-looking parasite thing.

Not a fan of the movie, personally. Not much to say either, I just put it there cuz one of the key aspects of the movie was meant to be Dami and B's father-son relationship (and the gif was kinda funny).

By the time Damian came along, DC writers half-realised that blatant physical abuse towards your kids was not cool.

Anyway, this turned out wayyyyy longer than I'd originally intended. I was just gonna cite the sources at first, and then decided to give context for those weren't gonna read the comics, and then a bit of my opinion slipped in towards the end ┬┴┬┴┤(･_├┬┴┬┴ ...

Happy Father's day, ig?

[glass-noodle]

I'm curious Connor in you're au looks quite malnutritioned and tired what would Hank do if he became exceptionally sick or weak from kamskis experiments on him

He can tell that something’s off the minute he walks into the enclosure. Connor is lying half on the deck, half in the water, his tail hanging limply off the ledge. He barely lifts his head at the sound of Hank entering, eyes half-lidded and hazy.

Hank rushes forward, dropping his lunch bag on the deck and grabbing Connor by the shoulders. “Jesus — Connor! Hey, you okay?”

Connor looks worse than he ever has; purple shadows under his eyes dark as a bruise, skin sallow over protruding bones, grip weak as he reaches up to place a heavy hand on Hank’s arm. Hank feels anger simmer to life in his gut, the urge to storm straight into Kamski’s office and punch his teeth out for allowing Connor to wallow in this state (and likely causing it) rising like a maelstrom; but he manages to reign himself in for Connor’s sake, guiding him into a more comfortable position on the deck. “Hold on, kid,” he says urgently, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the merman’s thin, pale frame. He turns to rummage quickly through his bag. “Here, what do you need? Food? Water?”

He holds out his daily catch to Connor. Connor looks blearily at the fish, eyes cloudy, then drops his head back onto the deck, murmuring insensibly.

Hank raises his head back up. “C’mon, kid, you need to eat,” he says, trying to keep his voice low despite his rising panic. He palms the kid’s face gently, noting how it’s burning up as he sits cross-legged by the water’s edge, guiding Connor’s head into his lap.

Connor barely reacts to the change in position. His eyes are closed, and his bony ribs rise and fall quickly, shallow breaths puffing past cracked lips. Hank decides it’s probably best to start with water. He reaches back into his bag to retrieve his bottle, uncapping it and placing it against Connor’s lips. “Come on, come on,” he mutters.

Connor does respond to that, at least, throat bobbing with difficulty as he sips slowly at what’s offered. Hank’s relief is short-lived, however; Connor’s eyes slip shut when Hank pulls the bottle away, and he murmurs a low, wounded sound as he turns his head weakly into Hank’s lap.

Hank hisses a curse between his teeth. He puts a hand on Connor’s burning forehead, pushing his sweat-soaked locks out of the way. He’s just about to consider running to get help — Kamski’s wrath be damned — when the enclosure door opens.

Hank turns quickly, stiffening. One of the scientists, the small blonde one, is standing in the doorway, holding several objects in her hands — one of which looks like a syringe filled with a pale blue fluid. She gives him a strange, lingering look.

“Mr. Anderson.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Hank growls. He doesn’t give a damn that he’s been caught breaking the rules. He eyes the syringe in her hand suspiciously as she walks towards them, clutching Connor tighter. “The hell are you gonna do to him?”

She stops a short distance away from them. “My name is Chloe,” she says, soft and careful. She holds out her hands placatingly, showing Hank everything that she has in her grasp. “I work directly under Dr. Kamski. Connor is sick. I have medicine for him.”

Hank eyes the syringe suspiciously. The girl doesn’t seem all that aggressive, but he doesn’t trust anyone in this place, least of all the fuckers who put Connor in this situation in the first place. “Right. How do I know you’re not just gonna shoot him up with more weird shit?”

Chloe’s hesitates, looking away. “I understand your concern,” she murmurs finally. “But I want you to know that I really don’t mean Connor any harm. I — I don’t like seeing him suffer, either.”

Hank snorts darkly at that. “Then set him free.”

Chloe says nothing; just gives him another long, considering look. On top of feeling pissed, her light-eyed stare is starting to make him feel uncomfortable, like she’s staring into his soul and grasping at his deepest, most guarded thoughts. Weird girl.

Connor stirs in his lap, dark eyes flickering open to peer hazily beyond Hank’s hovering form. He seems to recognize Chloe; he doesn’t shy away as she approaches them, at least. Rather, he shifts, and — to Hank’s surprise — holds out one pale, scarred arm.

Chloe kneels down, keeping her eyes on Hank. “May I?”

Hank would honestly like nothing less, but he’s not stupid. Connor needs more help than he can provide, and for whatever reason he seems to trust her marginally more than the other scientists Hank’s seen him interact with. “Whatever,” he grunts, keeping a tight grip on the merman. If she got the smart notion to try anything, Hank would be there to swing his weight around, anyhow.

Connor watches her as she swabs his skin delicately with alcohol, and Hank watches him in turn. His face pinches when she inserts the needle, but he seems no less uncomfortable than he was before; no trace of the anger or fear that normally twists his expression when the scientists enter his tank. In fact, he seems almost…relieved. His eyes slip closed when Chloe retracts the needle, and he lets out a shaky sigh, curling into Hank’s warmth.

Hank strokes a hand through the kid’s hair, watching Chloe discard the needle into a little yellow container and tape a piece of gauze over the puncture site. “You done now?”

Chloe shakes her head, looking regretful. “I’m afraid we’ll have to move Connor to the sick tank. He’ll need more than a single shot to recover, and he’ll need specific environmental conditions to help him heal properly.”

Hank feels that familiar anger ignite in him again, raising his hackles and knotting dark and tight in his chest. “He wouldn’t be sick if you would just stop doing this to him,” he growls, fixing the girl with a hard, baleful stare. Whatever she’d done to help Connor just now, it didn’t make up for everything she’d helped enable up until this point. It didn’t make up for all the suffering she and her team had put Connor through.

Chloe doesn’t speak for a long moment. “I’ll pass that on to Elijah,” she says eventually, tone soft and unreadable.

[fights4users]

Sending him away

How would Yori react to Tron getting transferred? (For the sake of the fic he wasn’t copied)

Tron regrets it the second the words leave his mouth, but she had to hear it from him. He has made a choice he’s come to regret once realizing it will mean leaving her.

Touchy, angsty but they ultimately have great communication skills.

-Comments encouraged-

[ctl-yuejie]

hello im the same anon as before i just learned about the new attack which was indeed premeditated. i thought the post was talking about what happened with the soccer fans. im very sorry!

tbh i considered ignoring this and obviously do not know who you are anon + i am leaving out the first message i got, because i do not want to drag any other blogs into this:

do not come into my ask box and tell me that i shouldn't reblog xyz's posts because they are a zionist

if the current posting trend on tumblr wasn't so particularly dire i'd use the "woman putting box on shelf meme" with the word zionist on it, but as it stands

i obviously do not vet all blogs in a reblog chain when i agree with the content of a post; i do not mind people coming to my dms/ask box to tell me that someone i reblogged from has posted heinous shit and that i should check whether i want to reblog them

however, that means pointing out that they actually said something specific (e.g. having no compassion for the people in gaza) and not just sending a dm with "btw blog xyz is zionist"

10 times out of 10, the people who contact me like that have first heard of zionism a year ago and have never done any reading beyond the english wiki since then +

any time i have seen posts like that on my dash they weren't even directed at zionists but jewish bloggers talking about the antisemetic bs going down on this website and in general

as for amsterdam:

it boggles my mind (not really) that people cannot comprehend that making fun of dead children in gaza is vile stuff but also doesn't justify people going on a 'jew hunt' in the streets.

i am beyond making presumptions, but i cannot help but feel that the activism in support of palestine by people who message me like this extends to just that - messaging me or others - and then never engaging in actual activism.

it is calling out racism and antisemitism when you encounter it, especially among your peers, giving money to organisations that actually try and provide help to people in gaza, it means calling and writing to politicians to make your voice heard (i've decided to mainly post on tumblr about the antisemitic attacks going on in europe etc. because i feel like some people on here do not want to accept the fact that antisemitic hate crimes are globally on the rise. as for the support for palestine: i do that offline, because i do not believe there is anything helpful i can achieve on this platform).

so, i reblogged that post not just because of the "new" attack, but also because of the attack from the day before.

[total-drama-brainrot]

Hello hello ophe 👋😇

I’m doing somewhat ok these days how about you? I hope you are getting better 😇

Anyways I got a crack idea and it sounds kinda stupid but hear me out

Bank robbery or crime gang au

You get Alejandro who is the one in charge

Noah the brains

Justin the distraction for the police and just the attractive distraction

Tyler is the “athletic” one really he’s also part of distraction the other one they shove in the vents

Wayne (don’t ask no one knows why he is even here) is the getaway driver

Cody the hacker and the one they shove into the vents

Trent is the second getaway driver is Wayne is knocked out and he’s also helps Cody when he is shoved in the vents (Trent tells where Cody need to go when Cody is in the vents)

Owen is also part of the distraction team and somehow supplies the group with firearms of all things?

Harold is the main hacker

Duncan is I guess the Jack of all trades?

Anyways yeah I don’t know why I thought of this….

-Ass Stars anon

Hello hello, A.S. Anon! 👋😄

I'm slowly getting better by means of an excessive amount of decongestants and painkillers! 💊

Total Drama Bank Heist AU sounds like a fun little crack idea, I'm on board.

If I could suggest something, I'd like to offer both Noah and Harold as the groups' 'Guy(s) In The Chair', with Noah using his canonical hacking abilities to scout out their chosen heist area using it's security cameras and/or downloading the bank's blueprints digitally (pretty sure he did something similar to this in Dramarama?) and Harold utilizing some of his various Mad Skills to plan the group's course of action and probably man their comms. I say this because Noah can't stand Harold, so making them work together as the groups' off-site organizers would/could be hindered by the two of them bickering instead of actually working. (Also because I can't imagine a world in which Noah would willingly do something as physically straining as robbing a bank. Mission intelligence, however, is right up his alley; he and Harold absolutely fight over who gets to be called 'Q'.)

Having Alejandro as the main group's de facto leader just feels right, and I don't think they'd need someone dedicated to being the 'Brains' with him around (though that title would go to Harold and Noah technically). He's quick witted enough to think up plans of action on the fly and devious enough to charm his way through a tough spot, all whilst being physically capable enough to fight his way through trouble- if anything I'd say Alejandro is the 'Jack of all Trades', thought 'The Leader' is probably a more appealing moniker to him.

Justin as 'The Eye Candy' also feels natural- it's his best (only) talent! He's been shown in canon to be a bit of a schmoozer, so complimenting/flirting his way through the banks' guards/employees and working as a distraction is perfect for him, especially since I doubt Justin would want to do any dirty work and risk damaging his 'perfect face/body'.

Duncan and Tyler would be 'The Brawn', with Duncan actually being an effective physical threat whilst Tyler is... Tyler...

Though Duncan could also be 'The Wildcard', since his loyalty isn't exactly assured at any given moment. Whilst I doubt he's ever rat the others out for his own assured freedom/safety, abandoning them at the scene while he makes his escape? That's a total Duncan Move (he learned it from Courtney in TDDDDI).

I honestly can't see Owen as a heister, unless he was somehow tricked/blackmailed into tagging along, but if he was he's be similar to Tyler- though his title would be something along the lines of 'The Beefcake'- just some extra muscle who's not particularly good at being extra muscle.

Cody would be the safe cracker. He's small and "quick on his feet" (his words), he's literally built for crawling through vents and cracking open safes! He's smart enough to be a code breaker, though he rarely shows it, and I also think it's a nice nod to his bomb diffusing fear- it's a similar course of action.

Trent as the getaway driver also just feels right. He's laid back enough to be contented to just sit and wait for the others to finish their heist, and his poker face is pretty good so one one really suspects him to be involved in the others' ongoings. He probably plays indie rock songs from the 80s as they speed away from the scenes of their crimes, and he absolutely owns a pair of mirrored shades that he only wears when it's Time To Go- he thinks they make him look cool (they don't, but no one has the heart to tell him).

I could see Cody as a secondary getaway driver as well, if Trent's unavailable, utilizing his baby face and unassuming demeanour to divert suspicion from himself. "No officer, I'm not a getaway driver. I'm just a baby, don't you see the learner's plate on my Vauxhall Corsa?" He has a terrible poker face though. If they were ever pulled over or caught he'd admit to everything without prompting.

I can't really think of a way of including Wayne, given the canonical age difference, unless said age difference is lessened in this AU. If he's, say, 16 whilst the rest of them are in their early 20s, I'd suggest that he's Owen's younger cousin who's tagging along because the group couldn't find a way to dissuade him from joining without him (either intentionally or inadvertently) tattling on their whole schtick. He's got no idea what's really happening- he's aware that they're heisting but Wayne doesn't have the, uh, cerebral constitution to connect "Bank Heist" to "Committing Actual Crimes"- but he's having a Great Time regardless! Alejandro has him on lookout duty (read: Wayne sits outside of the bank, oblivious to the legality of the situation) which Wayne takes very seriously... until he gets bored and hangs out with Trent/Cody in the car.

Now for extras!

Their main opposition is a specialised group of investigators who are assigned to their case- since they mark each heist with their group's name but have yet to be caught (They probably get Duncan to tag the side of their hit banks with a crudely drawn Bull Head or something in bright red spray paint). They're not cops, but they do work with them (ew) to try and finally catch the heisters.

Heather, alongside Courtney, Gwen, Leshawna, Lindsay, Beth and Sierra, work in this special ops. group; they're all specialised agents who are dispatched to the scenes of the heists to try and catch our boys in the act.

(I think Sierra would make a really good intelligence operator, given her canonical ability to run ~22+ blogs simultaneously and dig up private information on people. She'd direct the others towards whichever bank she finds Harold and Noah hacking into.)

They occasionally enlist the help of Izzy and Eva for the extra muscle, but the duo are too temperamental to be a full-time part of their operation.

(Yes I added my girlies as a rival group. It's Gender Wars Time. S1E14 all over again but this time there's less gross food and more LITERAL CRIME‼‼)

[edwinisms]

I haven’t written fanfic for so long up until recently that I forgot the struggle of having multiple ideas and starting multiple chaptered works at the same time and then having to keep up with them grgegahhhhf

[swanhild]

hi! I did your survey! can I ask what are your own thoughts on the order of the Finwean cousins? I'm trying to decide for a artwork I want to create

Hi anon, I apologize for taking so long to answer this (the last couple of weeks have been hellish). And I need to point out that the survey is not mine, but @ceescedasticity's, so you might want to ask them. I only reblogged it to help with the sample size and because I'm a nerd who likes fandom-related statistics.

That said, this is the birth order I myself have settled on for Finwё's grandchildren at the moment (and my reasons below):

Maedhros Maglor Fingon Celegorm Finrod Turgon Caranthir Angrod Curufin Aegnor Aredhel Galadriel Argon Amrod Amras

(No Orodreth, sorry. I'm an Orodreth son of Angrod truther. It just makes both of them more interesting to me as characters if they're father and son and I enjoy the symmetry of Fingolfin and Finarfin both having four children).

I tried to incorporate what we canonically know about their ages, which is

the oldest child and birth order of each sibling group

that Finrod and Turgon are the same age (born 1300 YT)

that Aredhel and Galadriel are the same age (born 1362 YT)

The first four in the list are just personal preference- Fingon could theoretically be the second oldest (or even the oldest) grandchild, but Maedhros is firmly The Oldest (TM) in my mind and he and Maglor are so inseparable that I prefer them to have been the only grandchildren for a little while until Fingon came along (or Celegorm*, but I prefer Fingon to be born right after Maglor and a bit older than Celegorm).

They are followed by Finrod and Turgon and then Caranthir and Angrod. The latter two being roughly the same age is amusing to me, because instead of being besties like Finrod and Turgon, I imagine they were already getting into fights and throwing sand at each other if you left them to play unattended in the sandpit.

Curufin being surrounded by Angrod, Aegnor and Aredhel age-wise feels right to me as well, as he was canonically close with Aredhel (and if I remember correctly there is at least one version of events where Curufin was close with Angrod and Aegnor as well?) Both Curufin and Aredhel probably looked up to and idolized their cool older brother/cousin Celegorm. (I guess Galadriel already did her own thing even back then, or she preferred to follow Finrod around.)

I chose Amrod and Amras to be the youngest instead of Argon because Feanor would like being the one to provide his father with both the oldest and the youngest grandchild(ren) in the family (a perfect crown prince and heir to start with and a pair of adorable ginger babies to fawn over to end the Finwёan grandchild boom.) Also because I like the idea of Telufinwё ("last Finwё") actually being the last grandchild of Finwё in addition to being the last child of Fёanor and Nerdanel.

Looking at the list written out like that, it seems Finarfin and Eärwen had all their kids pretty closely together, while Fingolfin and Anairё had Fingon and Turgon, then took a little break and had another two. (Maybe Finarfin's and Eärwen's kids were all pretty easy-going for the most part, while Fingon and Turgon were little hellions a bit more difficult to handle? Sounds accurate tbh.)

*I'm not completely sold on the order above. I have considered Celegorm being younger than Finrod and Turgon for example, making him and Caranthir very close in age, which could be used to explain why Celegorm is closer to Curufin- by the time Curufin was born, he could be an "older brother" to him, while a close in age Caranthir could have been more of a rival for his parents' attention and affection growing up.

It's also possible I'm missing some pieces of obscure inforamtion that would change my mind, so if you know of anything, feel free to let me know!

[orbitaldeathwoomy]

[A few days later...]

"Hey, Urs... Are you feeling alright? You've seemed kind of off since the other day."

"It's nothing. I just thought I saw someone following me when I was on my way home from the Turf War lobby."

"Ugh, that's so creepy. If it happens again, let me know okay? I'll make sure whoever it was stops."

"Thank you for your concern, but--"

[Suddenly, there's a knock at their door. Ursula gets up to answer it, looking through the eyehole on the door... And immediately takes a few steps back, eyes wide and heart pounding.]

「N-No... It can't be...」

「Ursula? What's wrong?」

「It's my... my parents...」

「What? Really?」

[Kori gently moves between Ursula and the door and looks through the eyehole. Sure enough, there are two older Octolings standing outside -- a woman with hot pink tentacles and a beautiful face, and a man with blue rings spotting his deep purple tentacles. She can definitely see the resemblance between them and Ursula. Her voice then lowers to a whisper.]

「Okay... Okay. Let's just. Not answer it. Maybe they'll leave if they think we're not home.」

[She then moves to lead the terrified Ursula to her bedroom.. Until their door is literally kicked open.]

「Hey! The hell do you think you're doing?!」

[The two ignore Kori completely, their focus on Ursula as they approach her.]

「So this is where you've been.」

[Ursula nervously nods.]

「And your brother?」

[Ursula remains silent, much to the ire of her father. He forcefully grabs her, digging his venomous claws into her arm.]

「Answer me when I'm talking to you, traitor!」

[He slaps Ursula across the face hard, before pushing her to the floor.]

"U-Ursula!"

「Now tell me where your brother is.」

「I... I haven't seen him since I last visited Inkopolis.」

「And where exactly did you see him?」

「Like that's any of your--」

[Ursula shakes her head at Kori, effectively silencing the yellow Octoling before she hangs her head a little.]

「There's... a sweets shop he frequents, near the plaza...」

「Good girl.」

[Ursula's mother then gestures for her husband to follow her out the door, only looking back to give Ursula a wicked smile.]

「Don't get too comfortable. Once we've given him his just desserts, we're coming back for you.」

[Ursula's parents exit the apartment, leaving Ursula and Kori stunned in their wake. After a moment, Ursula shakily stands up and makes her way to the table where she left her cell phone.]

"Wait, you're father's a blue-ringed, right? We need to get you to a hospital!"

"I'll be fine. But I... I need to warn my brother..."

[sesamenom]

PSA: REBLOG STUFF!!

So I don’t know if it’s just me, but I’m seeing some new people in my notifications and just wanted to put this out there.

REBLOGS ARE HOW THIS SITE WORKS

To illustrate, let’s use “Bob” and “Bob’s cat” as an example. Imagine you’re walking down the sidewalk and you see Bob holding his cat.

Reblogging is like taking a picture (with consent, of course!) and sending it to the groupchat (your followers). Liking is like waving hi, and replies are like standing around to talk to a few other people who also saw Bob’s cat.

Reblogs are how other people get to see content! There is no (functional) algorithm on Tumblr, so posters are reliant on reblogs to circulate posts. This is how Tumblr in-jokes and famous posts survive so long, because reblogging means the post doesn’t die after 24 hours.

Likes are fun, but all they really tell you is that someone found your post notable: it doesn’t help anyone else see it. If you saw a really cute cat/dog/critter of choice in real life, thinking to yourself “I like this cat” doesn’t show it to anybody else.

Replies are a brief conversation. It doesn’t share the post with anyone else, and doesn’t help circulate the post in the long run. (Of course, there are uses for this, but for the purpose of getting more people to see the post, it’s much more helpful to comment on a reblog!)

If you want to reblog but you don’t want it on your main blog- maybe you have a themed/fandom blog, or a gimmick blog, or an art or writing blog. Guess what? Tumblr gives you unlimited sideblogs! You can create a sideblog and reblog random stuff there. Personally, my main blog is an art-focused one, so I have sideblogs for other people’s art and miscellaneous reblogs.

Hope this helps & have fun!

transcript for handwriting:

3 panels, labeled “Reblog”, “Like”, and “Reply”

(you) @/everyone look at Bob’s cat!

Cat!

(person 1) yeah (person 2) aww! (you) cute cat

[askaniritual]

im now convinced im never gonna finish it so heres the part of my csm fic i like

Aki doesn’t have any hobbies besides going to work and smoking on the balcony so he’s easy to find when Denji has a question. 

Tonight, when he opens the door and joins him at the railing, Aki offers him a cigarette. 

Denji’s never been able to afford an addiction before. He can’t imagine spending his hard-earned paycheck on things that will just burn away instead of something useful like food or porn. 

“I’m sixteen,” says Denji.

“Then don’t take it.” Aki doesn’t even look at him. He starts to take the cigarette back but Denji snatches it from him and stuffs it in his pocket.

“Are you in love with Angel Devil?” he asks.

Aki chokes on his cigarette. “What?”

“I hear him sneak in on the balcony at night. Are you in love with him or are you guys just fucking?”

“Jesus,” says Aki. He rubs at his chest with the heel of his hand, then ashes his cigarette. He doesn’t elaborate. 

“Just tell me,” says Denji.

“Devils don’t love humans,” says Aki.

Aki being in love with Angel and Angel being in love with Aki seem like separate issues to Denji, but he’ll happily concede he’s no expert on the subject.

“What about Makima-san? How can you be in love with Angel if you’re in love with Makima-san?”

“That’s different,” says Aki.

“Different how?”

Aki just shrugs.

“Can you be in love with two people at once? Is that like, even allowed?” 

Aki shrugs again.

It’s silent for a moment while they both look out over the city. Aki finishes his cigarette and lights another one. 

“You love Makima, right?” says Aki finally.

“Duh,” says Denji. 

“What about Reze?”

Denji thinks about it for a second. Makima, he’s sure about. Everybody else, it starts to get a little blurry. 

“She was like, totally evil,” he says. “So it doesn’t matter.” 

“You don’t have to love everybody the exact same way,” says Aki finally. He turns to put his cigarette out in the ashtray on the corner table. Denji looks at the nubby end of the cigarette. A thin column of smoke drifts away into the night air.