#bi nail polish because i said so

[steddiealltheway]

"Steve! You've got to help me. I panicked, and I told my Tinder date that you and Eddie have been dating for two years!" Robin yells as she storms into their living room. 

Luckily, Steve's gotten used to her entering their apartment in such a way over the past few years, but he barely registers what she says in her haste. He takes a moment to stare at her with his eyebrows drawn together in confusion, hoping the words will eventually make sense. 

They don’t. 

"What?" 

Robin paces back and forth while gesturing wildly with her hands. "You know how I do the thing where I ramble around girls I find really really hot? Well, I was doing that, and I brought you up and kept going on about how annoying my roommate is-" 

"Are you kidding m-" 

Robin continues as if she didn't just insult him. "And she kind of stopped and look at me and said, 'Your roommate is a guy?' And I got confused and said yes because why would I lie? And she got all uncomfortable and started asking more questions like if you were gay or straight, and I told her you were bi, and she got even weirder! So, eventually I just straight up asked her what was wrong, and she said that she didn't want to go out with me if my roommate was potentially into me. So I told her that wasn't a problem because you've been dating Eddie for two years." She finishes with that awkward lip bite she does which can be oddly endearing sometimes. But it’s not this time. 

Steve leans forward on the couch. "I'm sorry. You still want to go out with a girl who has no trust in my ability to keep things in my pants? As if she doesn't trust that you're a lesbian and if I ever made a move on you, you would absolutely punch me in the throat." 

Robin sits next to him and grabs his hands. "She's so so hot, Steve. Please." 

Steve rolls his eyes. "Fine, you can keep telling her that I’m dating Eddie, I guess." 

Robin breaks eye contact and starts picking at her nail polish. 

Well, that’s not a great sign. "What aren't you telling me?" 

Robin slowly looks at him in the way a dog looks at their owner after destroying their favorite shoes. "Okay, so then I really got a bit crazy, and when she asked me to show me pictures of you two together, I dropped my phone in my glass of water." She slowly pulls out her phone, and sure enough, it won't even turn on. 

Steve digs the heels of his hands into his eyes before grabbing her phone and stalking off to the kitchen to find rice and a bowl. Robin follows after him. 

"So, all I need to do is take a few pictures of you guys looking really coupley on dates and whatnot and make it look like they range over the past two years. I also told Veronica that I would let her meet you two sometime soon,” She rushes in to add the second thing before Steve can really process the first one. She just smiles, trying to look all sweet and endearing.  

Steve gives Robin the best bitchy glare he has, but she shoots him one back and counters by saying, "You owe me, and you know it." 

"For what?" Steve asks as he pours rice over her phone. 

Robin crosses her arms. "Three weeks ago, you kicked me out of the apartment without warning to have sex with some random girl, and I was left stranded for the night." 

Steve scoffs, "You went to Nancy's and slept in her very nice guest bedroom!" 

"You owe me!" 

Steve puts the bag of rice down and sighs. "Fine, but if Eddie doesn't agree, then I'm out." 

Robin smiles. "Deal." 

Steve hates how confident she is about the whole thing, so he calls Eddie and puts him on speaker. When he answers, Steve immediately says, "Hey, Eddie, you're on speaker with me and Robin, and she has a very ridiculous request for you. I'll let her tell you the details." 

After Robin recounts her night and Steve tries not to rant about how much of a bad vibe he gets from the girl, Eddie pauses for a bit to take it all in. Then, he says, "Robin, I really don't like this Veronica girl." 

"She's hot!" Robin retorts. 

Eddie snorts on the other line. "I'm in if Steve's in." 

Steve's jaw drops. Robin shoots him a big smile. "Perfect! What if we started on pictures early tomorrow? I've got a lot of random dates to prepare you guys for." 

Steve interrupts before Eddie can answer. "And why can't you show her like... three pictures of us cuddling on the couch?" 

"We need to cover our tracks as much as we can and cuddling on the couch a few times won’t do. Oh, we should hang a few pictures of you two around the apartment!" Robin plots excitedly. 

Steve runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head. He can't believe he's doing this. They don’t even have pictures hanging up. 

"Tomorrow works for me," Eddie says, entirely oblivious to Steve’s internal struggle. 

But Steve can't help but get a little excited at the thought of seeing Eddie and spending a whole day with him. 

So, he sucks it up and says, "I'm free, too. And I'm excited to see you, Eddie. I've missed you." 

"I saw you yesterday," Eddie laughs on the other line. 

Steve blushes and argues, "Seeing you for a minute when I get my coffee doesn't count." 

"Whatever you say, pumpkin bread." 

Pumpkin bread? Steve scrunches up his nose in protest. “That’s one of the worst things I’ve ever heard.” 

"Just practicing for when we meet this Veronica girl, my peach." 

Steve can’t help but laugh. "We are not that kind of couple. But I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good night. Sweet dreams, rubber ducky." 

Eddie laughs loudly on the other line and muffles the sound probably with his hand. 

Steve bites his lip, trying not to get too pleased at causing that reaction. 

"Good night, sweetheart." The line beeps three times as the call ends, and Steve can't help the smile that grows on his face. Sweetheart... he kind of likes that one. 

"Glad to see you two get into your roles," Robin says with a smirk. 

Steve jumps back, having forgotten she was there. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight.” With that, he quickly rushes off to his room before Robin can say anything else about the interaction. 

"Goodnight, dingus!" she calls after him joyously. 

This all better be worth it.

-:-:-:-:-:-

The next morning, Steve can't help but get a little nervous when Eddie sends him an "Almost there!" text. He has a feeling this whole thing is going to blow up in their faces or something. 

He's always known that Eddie's been cute. Hell, the first time he saw him, Steve thought he was hot. But he had never thought of them together after that. Sure, there was definitely a certain chemistry between them, but for some reason, Steve always saw him as off-limits. Especially since Dustin would kill him if he ever broke Eddie's heart. 

So, Steve learned to push down any feelings he's had for him over the years. And he's afraid that all those repressed feelings are going to come up today.  

There's a knock on his and Robin's apartment door, and Steve freezes. Hopefully his and Eddie’s friendship will survive whatever happens next.  

Here goes nothing.  

He opens the door to find a curly head of hair in front of him that isn't Eddie's. 

"Nancy?" 

"Hi! I'm here to take pictures today," she explains as she walks through the door, wiggling her Canon camera in her hand. "I thought Robin told you." 

"She certainly did not," Steve says and pinches his nose. He might kill her. He pushes the door shut, but it stops. 

"Hey," Eddie says peaking his head out from behind the door and catching Steve’s eye quickly. "Sorry, I'm late," he apologizes as he pulls Steve into a tight hug. 

Steve lingers in it, squeezing Eddie tightly, smelling the lavender shampoo he uses, and trying to make the moment last as long as he can. 

The sound of a camera shutter snaps him out of the moment. 

He pulls back and looks at Nancy. 

"Taking some candid pictures," she says unapologetically. 

But Steve doesn't care too much when he feels Eddie's hand linger on his back. "You're taking pictures for us? What happened to Robin?" 

"Yes, what did happen to Robin?" Steve asks raising his voice so she'll hear him. 

"Coming!" she yells then comes out of her room looking very strangely put together. Steve glances down at her wrist and notices her wearing her lucky black bracelet. When did she start wearing that again? 

"You look nice," Nancy says with a soft smile. 

"Thanks," Robin replies with a soft blush. 

Steve is definitely missing something, but he can't pay attention when Eddie is gently rubbing his back. He's going to end up dying on the spot. 

"Eddie!" Robin says, finally noticing him, "I see you brought the extra clothes." 

Steve glances down to where Eddie's suitcase sits on the floor. He does not remember him bringing that in. Shit, he's so distracted by his presence. Wait. "Why did you bring extra clothes?" he asks Eddie then notices how close they're standing. Oh, hello, Eddie's very soft-looking lips. 

"I told you we're covering two years. That means different seasons," Robin says as if the answer is obvious. 

Hell no. "There's no way in hell I'm wearing cold clothes outside in the heat." 

"Good thing I planned for us to stay in for those pictures," Nancy says with a smile on her face. "Now go change into one of your sweaters or something. Oh! Eddie, you should change with him so you two can color coordinate. It'll be so cute!" 

Steve adds Nancy to the list of people he might murder. 

Eddie's hand drops from his back as he wheels the suitcase into Steve's room. Steve follows and closes the door behind him. 

"Sorry for all this," Steve says, glancing around to make sure nothing embarrassing is laying out. 

Eddie shakes his head and brushes it off as if it's nothing, "Nah, it's all good. I think it could be fun if we let it. Color coordinating is a horrible idea though." 

"Agreed," Steve replies, deciding that his room looks fine. He opens up his closet and pushes his short sleeve clothes to the side to try to get to his sweaters hanging in the back. "What are you thinking for clothes?" 

"I don't care as long as you wear your yellow sweater for one of the pictures." 

Steve snorts. For some reason, Eddie had such an attachment to the thing. One time, he mistakenly put it in his designated donation bin, and he thought Eddie was going to cry when he found it. 

He had cradled the thing to his chest and dramatically said, "You don't understand, Steve. Some people's lives depend on you wearing this sweater. Their lives, Steve." 

Steve had rolled his eyes, put it back on a hanger, and hung it with the other sweaters. "Better?" he asked. 

"Much better."  

And the whole thing had been worth it to see the smile on Eddie's face - especially when Steve decided to surprise him by wearing it to the coffee shop the next day. 

"Whatcha thinking about?" Eddie asks with a smile, suddenly very close to him. 

Steve shakes his head as if shaking away the memory. "Nothing." 

Eddie raises an eyebrow but he doesn't push it before he goes back to his suitcase and starts laying out his clothes on Steve's bed. 

Steve strips off his shirt and pulls the sweater over his head. He glances down at his jeans and decides that Veronica probably won't remember what pants he was wearing in each picture. 

He turns to tell Eddie as much but freezes when he sees Eddie shirtless, sorting through the clothes to find the perfect assortment of layers. Steve swallows and adverts his eyes. He is not going to check him out while he's changing. He clears his throat and turns back to his closet. "I think we just need to change our shirts. Maybe outside, you can start with a base layer then add on top of that." 

Steve doesn't think he can stand to see shirtless Eddie with all his tattoos out in the daylight or the moonlight - if it takes that long. And he certainly does not want to let anyone else see that either. 

"That's smart, babe." 

Steve's hand squeezes whatever poor shirt he was grabbing a little too tight at the nickname. He's never been one for nicknames, especially over-the-top ones, but knowing it's Eddie calling him that as if he really does love him... it really does something for Steve. 

He doesn't reply as he grabs a few shirts and jackets and lays them out on the bed next to Eddie's stuff. 

He glances up at Eddie and almost breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that he has a shirt on. And a flannel. And his leather jacket. Thank goodness for layers. 

He looks back at Eddie's face and catches the exact moment that Eddie registers him wearing the yellow sweater. His eyes fill with unhinged excitement and joy. He walks right into Steve's space and leans down - oh my god - to talk to the sweater. 

"I've missed you so much. You know, it's so unfair that Steve only gets to wear you for a small part of the year. And he doesn't own anything short-sleeved in your beautiful color it seems." 

Steve puts his hands on his hips and stares up at the ceiling. He can't believe he's ever had trouble pushing down feelings for this man. 

(But he makes a note to himself to buy more things in yellow just for him.) 

There’s a loud knocking on the door, then Robin yells, “You two have been in there for a while! Everything okay?” 

“Eddie is talking to my sweater again!” Steve calls back. 

There’s a pause before Nancy says, “Sorry, we didn’t hear you right. What?” 

“I’m talking to his sweater! Be out soon!” Eddie yells. 

There’s some mumbling outside the door as Steve finally looks down at Eddie and asks, “Are you done?” 

Eddie smiles up at him. “Never.” 

But he straightens up and presses a quick kiss to Steve’s shoulder before he turns to leave the room. “That was for the sweater, not you,” Eddie clarifies. 

“Right,” Steve replies. Because that makes so much sense.

Today is going to kill him. 

Part two ;)

(This was meant to just be a ficlet for my dear friend @henderdads , and then it turned into a six-part fic. I hope you enjoy!! ((Especially you, Cass)) AO3 Link here!)

[gay-little-axolotl]

my designs for the sillies!!

elaboration on the designs + some hcs under the cut (it’s a long one folks!)

Ocean: she/her, lesbian, aroace-spec; her hair is naturally a Fucking Curly Mess, so she straightens it out, sprays it, and uses a headband and hair-clips; Ocean always has a pencil behind her ear in case she needs to write something down, but she always forgets she put it there; she has a coat on her waist because a long-sleeved shirt and a vest is not enough. she must not feel an ounce of cold.

Noel: he/she/they, bigender, gay; his hair is also a Fucking Curly Mess so he just puts some gel on and prays to satan it works; Noel tries to tone it down like his mother told him so he doesn’t wear pride merch to school or anything, but he does wear black earrings and black nail polish

Mischa: he/him, bisexual; I basically tried to make him look like the type of person my mom would point at in the street and go “that’s what satan does to a person!!”; Mischa constantly looks like he’s been hit by a bus, he says it’s because he gets into fights, but he’s just a fucking wreck; backwards hat, bi pin and star of David pin because I saw @lemon69lol’s post and have decided that Jewish Mischa is canon now; Ukrainian flag phone case!!; Ricky bought him these BRIGHT neon green crocs for his 18th birthday and he wears it every day (Noel wants to shred those fucking crocs);

Ricky/Savannah: any pronouns + neos, genderfluid, bisexual, demiromantic?; I gave them the neon space cat headphones and crutches as always, but I added spikes to the crutches so my guy can kick some ableist ass, and an AAC device because of an art post THAT I CAN’T FIND! if someone has that one drawing of Ricky with an AAC device strapped to his crutch tell me because I want to give credit to the artist but I CAN’T; genderfluid + any pronouns pin; shoes that aren’t matching and a dress over pants because fuck the dress-code

Jane Doe: she/they/it/doll, unlabeled; I have no idea where this design came from but, Jane with X eyes, I guess; I think I was originally basing her off of Spinel but fuck, what do I know?; doll is based on my Emilia Jane Doe

Constance: she/they, demi-girl, sapphic; I tried to make her hair resemble Trinity Constance because I ADORE their Constance!; hoop earrings and braces because I said so; rainbow socks because she’s fuckin’ queer; colorful band-aids for reasons I will not be telling you, sorry

uniform insp

[gracebethartacc]

FINALLY.... UPDATED JJHH REDESIGNS..!!!!!!!

Ermmmm design notes/hcs bc I don’t remember ever going into detail the first time soooo:

-more pleasing/more coherent color palette/color coding (orange for Jackson blue for Holt) bc god the og colors are way too all over the place

-sun/moon, yin/yang, half n half etc motif (the necklace, pants, sweater, earrings etc etc)

-holt isn’t straight up blue because.... brother look at his og design.... -_-

-slightly darker skin tone than canon just bc I think darker skinned Jackson designs are cool, tho I’m not 100% certain on his ethnicity just yet? Still up in the air like I said it was mostly just bc it looks cool to me lol

-more punk/emo type clothes for holt (patches on his jacket, nail polish, platform boots etc (tho technically I like the idea Jackson was the one who bought the platforms just bc I think he really likes emo fashion but doesn’t want to outright wear it))

-also keeping the clothes the same/consistent bc i find the logic of them magically having entire different wardrobes when they switch kinda strange lol ?

-hybrid features (you can’t see it here but Jackson also has fangs not just holt, and the “dyed” part of his bangs i like to imagine is actually side effect of being part fire elemental and his hair might slightly flare up if he’s mad methinks) (holt is the same too like his hair fading from Jacksons brown to the orange instead of being just full on fire, also his skintone being a bit human leaning and not like multicolor) I’ve not designed Heath but if I did then holts human aspects would be a lot more apparent to have a full fire elemental for comparison

-holts patches on the jacket are all just lots of dad rock bands I grew up listening to that I think he’d like (if you’re curious considering a few of them are just logos/not got the name, in order: Queen, the cramps, the white stripes, David Bowie, Michael Jackson, twisted sister, nirvana, journey (I saw them at concert actually!!), Pink Floyd, and cheap trick!^^)

-if it’s not also obvious from holts jacket but: duality boys got the transmasc/bi swag, alsoooo some autism/adhd too (tho not sure which one it would be specifically ?)

-hc that instead of music it’s overstimulation/stress that causes the switch, for holt tho I’d say it’s the reverse so like it would be understimulation? (This idea isn’t very new tho I’ve seen a lot of ppl do it but it just makes a bit more sense to me tbh, also plays into the duality aspect more) I’d say things go more by DID rules (tho canon does that too kinda? But also not really??), so fronting isn’t strictly stress related and can be controlled/at will, and I hc they have a kind of head space type thing but I’ve yet to get it down on paper just yet

-OH I FORGOT TO MENTION:

Based the cardigan on the one komos has in the movie bc it’s one of my favorite outfits that they used :D

Um I think there might have been more stuff I wanted to say but can’t think of anything else, sorry if this was rambly/I said stuff I’ve already talked abt it’s just bc I’ve not done MH stuff for a hot second so wanted to do a little hc recap, plus had fun going over the character design stuff !! ^^

ALSO: holts patches in full quality bc they where fun to edit/draw for a few of em:

[alarrytale]

Asking out of curiosity - why you used the term bi music multiple times when talking about H’s sexuality? I remember how H said this “Isn’t this all sparkly bi music?” when he helped one fan come out as bi last year and I also remember how harries went overboard with saying that he basically came out as bi - totally satisfied because if he isn’t straight then he’s surely bi because they don’t want to loose their hope and fantasies about him - when he said that because they understood it that he meant he’s bi and so referenced his music as bi. I wasn’t following you by that time but know other larries here said that he just wanted to be inclusive with every sexuality and so that reference wasn’t meant as he’s hinting he’s bi. So I’m just curious why you now have used this term multiple times when you know he’s gay?

Hi, anon!

It's because it draws attention to his sexuality and makes people question if he's not straight after all. When he played Medicine for the first time it gained him a lot of attention and he got a lot of press that were focusing on questioning his sexuality. They also mentioned the other times H has said and done things that are not straight. So everything queer and same sex will help in terms of fans and the gp thinking out of the heteronormative box and putting the puzzle together. If someone were to seed a coming out, i think they want fans to start questioning and speculating.

H has talked about bi music (making people think he's bi), he's worn a dress, nail polish and make up (making people think he's non-binary), he's lifted a pan flag (making people think he's pan), a rainbow flag (making fans think he's gay) and he's lifted a lesbian flag (i don't think fans think he's a lesbian, but you get the point). Everything he does that is not straight is drawing attention to his sexuality and is making people see him in a new light. It's planting seeds. Maybe, just maybe, Harry Styles isn't straight?

[whatisbirds]

Limits of an Invitation

After a near-fatal shop accident, Eliza Danielson is ripped from death's maw by her theater's carpentry head. In exchange for a swift recovery she forges a bond that swiftly entangles her with the precarious politics of her university's unlife scene. Anatol Stamatin, a builder of many mediums, is just happy to have a sympathetic ear. After all, the nights stretch long and lonely when fasting to break a vaulderie spanning centuries.

Heyhowdy! So I've been working on this fic based on a Tzim ancilla PC of mine since about January, and it's finally polished up enough for me to feel comfortable publishing it! First chapter can be read on Ao3 here: Mrs. Danielson and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Lathe Aiming for a bi-weekly publishing schedule (Every Thursday/Friday) and as it stands it should be somewhere between 8 - 10 chapters long. (For folks who prefer to stick to the blog, the chapter is posted below the cutoff)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a slow night in the shop. It always got dead at the end of the semester, students preoccupied with wrapping up finals and productions going dark for the winter gap between fall and spring terms. Oftentimes Eliza would find herself alone at her paint station, her footfalls reverberating through the whole of the loading dock whenever she had to grab whatever scrap or tool her project called for next. As lonely as it was, the insectile skittering of her brush echoing back to her provided a company that her studio apartment lacked.

But tonight she had not resigned herself to the paint rack. Earlier in the evening, while fetching fresh water to clean out her brushes, she noticed the shop manager’s office was not only unlocked, but empty. In plain view, hanging off an uneven line of nails, were the keys to every piece of equipment currently locked in the machinery cage. 

Better to ask forgiveness than permission, her mother would always say.

Eliza had hoped that, wherever Mr. Stamatin had fucked off to, it’d be for more than five minutes. Upon checking, she spotted his Impala was parked in the same far corner it always was, the mirror opposite of her baby blue Fortwo nestled next to the dock entrance. Her assumption had been he was in the building, but tied up in a faculty meeting or some other administrative business. Whatever it was, she had hoped to seize this window and be done before he returned.

But she had forgotten a key part of the equation–her rotten ass luck.

The second the cage unlocked, she might as well have tripped an alarm because she found herself in his long shadow in no time.

“Ms. Danielson?”

She slipped the keys into her tote as she turned to face him, “Oh, hey Mr. Stamatin! I didn’t know you were still in today.”

“I’m always ‘in’ .” Mr. Stamatin stood a full head taller than Eliza, as well as the vast majority of the students. A fact that left every interaction with him, no matter how mild, with the distinct sense of being lectured by a parent. “I will ask again– what is it that you are doing ‘ in’ the cage, Ms. Danielson?”

 “I, uh, was just gonna fire up the lathe for an end table I’m working on.”

“You are aware you need to check keys through me, are you not?”

“I am aware.” Eliza chewed the inside of her cheek as her gaze drifted past him and to the cage door behind him. Between that and the closed shop doors, she had no idea how he had managed to sneak up on her. Doing her best to bite back a frustrated frown, she looked back up to him. “I was in a rush and you weren’t in the office. I wasn’t sure when you were going to be back so I figured I’d go ahead and set up while I waited.”

There was no telling if he bought this little half-truth–she’d have better luck getting a read off one of the wood planks than Mr. Stamatin. “...I see. Well. I would be happy to assist now that I have returned.”

“Awesome!” She said, feeling the opposite. He propped the cage door open and helped her guide the heavy machine out of storage and to its designated spot.

As vague as it might be, there was a reason hardly anyone in the department fucked with the aloof shop manager. Every conversation with him was a struggle no matter what angle he was approached with. She assumed English wasn’t his first language with how often he’d clip his sentences down to the bare essentials–simple, direct and sharp. Though he clearly had enough of a grasp to understand what was said–she also doubted the university would hire someone who wasn’t at least partially fluent. Regardless, he left many a freshman ego wounded with nothing more than a single word or observation… and his curtness only worsened with the grads.

You could not design a more intimidating Russian.

He held his hand out expectantly. “Keys.”

“Pardon?”

“The switch keys. You have them?”

She sighed as she reached into her bag and tossed them over. I’ll make copies another time. “Oh, right. Here ya go.”

“Thank you.” He turned the switch over and the indicator light blinked to life. A low electric thrum confirming the lathe was powered and ready to go. “Do you need lumber?”

“I got it covered, thanks.” She set her tote down and unloaded the four 2’2 pine boards poking out the corner of the bag. Their edges were beginning to splinter–they’d been knocking around the passenger seat of her car for a little too long–but a perfect fit for the drawer she already had built out. 

Mr. Stamatin’s brow furrowed. “...that is softwood.”

“Yeah. It’s cheap.” Eliza began loading one of the planks into the lathe. “Why?”

“Hardwood is better for turning. Also–forgive me–” He apologized before taking one of the planks, running a finger along the splintering edge, “You see this? This fray? Whatever you carve, will fray the same way. Your table will not last.”

“...it’s what I had around.” Eliza mumbled as she clamped the board down. “And it’s a gift for my mom, I’m not selling it or nothing. I don’t think she’ll mind if it gets a little worn. Actually I think she might prefer it that way.”

“I can cut you some maple.”

“...I mean. I already made the top. It’d look mis-matched.” Eliza’s frustration was beginning to peek through as a tight tenor underscoring her speech. “And I already have it loaded in. So–”

“No. Nonono. Eliza, I expected more from someone of your talent–this is shoddy. Especially for a gift.” Mr. Stamatin ‘tsked as he pulled the key from the power supply, cutting it.

“Uh. Thank you?” This was the first time she’d heard anything resembling praise from him–not just directed at her, but at anyone, period. Backhanded? Yes. Flattering? Also yes.

“You are welcome.” He pocketed the key. “I will fetch the maple. Be right back.”

He disappeared around the corner into the loading dock, and Eliza sat down on a nearby stool with a sigh. Huh. This was… weird. Sure she had only been in the program for about a year and a half, but she felt like she had at least a general sense of who Mr. Stamatin was. She’d met his type time and time again in undergrad– reserved, a harsh perfectionist. Prone to hyperfixation so intense it turns his projects inside out. He had spoken to her maybe once… twice unprompted over the two and a half months she worked with him on that Endgame set? Hell, she didn’t even know his first name. He never shared it and on the university website only listed him as “A. Stamatin”. 

But now suddenly he’s playing at being her mentor? Fuck off.

She checked her phone. 

11:45. December 23rd, 2014.

Two missed calls from “Maw”.

Three new texts from “Maw”.

Eliza’s heart remained firmly sunk into her gut as she pocketed her phone; she was almost relieved when Mr. Stamatin returned. He handed her four 2’2 planks and the lathe key. “There. Hardwood makes for better furniture. Pine is better suited for sets.”

“...Thanks.” Eliza got up and began to load the first leg into the lathe “So… you’re staying in town for Christmas?”

Mr. Stamatin took her spot on the stool, watching over her shoulder as she powered up the lathe. “I am. Yourself?”

“My mom lives in Des Moines. So, at this point, yeah. No point in leaving now.” She shrugged as she finished fastening the plank into the machine. “You got family anywhere?”

“We’re all local.”

Eliza scoffed. The man had an accent thicker than pine tar. “You’re kidding.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” He did not. 

Eliza sized him up for a beat, frown weighing the corner of her mouth. It was only now that she really got a good look at him, and noticed that… he kind of looked like shit. His skin was sickly pale, dark circles well defined below his eyes. If he told her he had not slept in a week, she’d believe him. However there was nothing in his stature that implied impairment, his posture was straight and his hands steady. Maybe it was just the shop lights? “You’re local?”

“Not local- local. I did not grow up here…” He trailed off, his mind elsewhere. “It’s a long story. What matters is this is where they’ve settled. Now a question in kind: how long have you been working as a carpenter?”

Eliza shrugged as she watched the lathe gain momentum. “Four years professionally, eight years if you count the work I did in undergrad.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Oh boy, do I.”

Mr. Stamatin snorted, “Passionate.”

“It’s almost midnight on christmas eve, I’m tired. I don’t really have the bandwidth for this, I just want to get it over with.” Eliza took a step back as she scrolled through the measurements she sketched out on her notes app. “Sorry. You’re making small talk. I’m being an asshole.”

“You are. But I get it.” Mr. Stamatin paused again, a consideration. “I’m playing teacher while you’re clearly crafting an apology.”

“An apology?”

“It’s christmas eve. You’re hundreds of miles from home. Your phone’s been buzzing in your pocket and you barely bother to check. Trying to not think of your mother, sitting alone in the dark this holiday?” 

Eliza turned to face him, taken aback. “How old are you?”

“Thirty.” The number hit the ground between them with a thud, utterly detached. 

“You talk like my grandpa.”

Mr. Stamatin leaned back in his stool, clearly thinking he struck a vein. “Does he chastise you for ignoring family calls?”

“You’ve barely spoken to me since I started grad school despite us sharing space and equipment six evenings a week for over a year. You have not earned the mileage to be this fucking petty with me, I don’t care if I stepped on your toes or whatever by taking the keys.” She turned away from him and pocketed her phone, stepping back to the lathe. “You don’t get to talk to me like I’m five.”

The stool scraped across the concrete as he stood abruptly, “Eliza–”

“First name basis already? When it’s only been a year and a half? You’re rushing me, Mr. Stamatin–” Eliza didn’t get to complete that thought. She had been reaching over the lathe–first mistake. She had left the spindle gouge on the table and had went to grab it when suddenly her sleeve–and her arm–was yanked down into the headstock spindle. She should have taken off her sweater, but it was frigid in the shop so she hadn’t. That was her second and far more fatal mistake.

She heard her bones snap before she felt it.

Her right hand folded, twisted and tore in a wash of undefined, white-hot pain. Pain that screamed up her arm almost as fast as the limb itself was fed into the machine’s momentum. Instead of the sawdust and cold concrete of the shop she swore she smelled the feet-deep peet of prairie, the putrid-sweet smell of sweat and the salt-licking bees it attracted. Woodrot and moss, earthen morels and creek-dampened locust-tree shade.

Eliza’s short life overwhelmed her–the final buffer before the churning force of multiple tonnes subsumed her.

But it never did.

What felt like a molten rod drove beneath her shoulder blade and with another, definitive CRACK she was no longer being pulled into the lathe but away. She felt something– a hand? Who’s hand? --pressing and pulling where the agony had localized in her shoulder socket as she felt her back press up against another body before she was spun around. 

“Look at me.”

Eliza’s gaze drifted, her vision swimming. A vacant, distant part of her recognized the various landmarks of the shop–the bay door, the prop cubbies, the wall where the unused stage lights hung and the plastic tub of unsorted gobos languishing beneath them–but it was all stained. Tinted. She felt like she was looking through stained glass, into somewhere else, somewhere far off. Pain twinged through her torso as she felt the hands on her shoulders shake her.

“Look at me.”

Her reptile brain snapped to attention, her eyes snapping up to meet Mr. Stamatin’s. It was surreal, seeing any emotion there, especially the mix of terror and panic that kept his gray eyes wide and his cheeks colorless. He held a finger up between them, and her eyes tracked its movement without issue. “Eliza. You should sit.”

The lathe was still whirring in the background. It was only then that she registered what felt like warm rain pattering against the back of her neck. With her remaining hand, she reached back and dipped her fingers into the moisture, looking down to see blood smeared across her fingertips. Her blood. Her blood was still being sprayed out by the lathe.

Eliza opened her mouth to speak, but only bile came out. One violent retch shook her body as the acid stained the fronts of both of their shirts. The last thing she saw before knees gave out was a bit of knitted scrap unspun on the floor between them. 

The remains of her sweater sleeve, drenched in blood.

****

When Eliza came to, she was laid out across a cot.

Bleary-eyed, she squinted against a bright light of a surgical light haloing her. The hospital…? The smell of alcohol and disinfectant hung heavy in the air. A dull headache thrummed in time with her pulse as her gaze drifted to the IV taped to her arm, tube coiling dull crimson from the crook of her elbow to the transfusion bag. Further down her arm, a leather strap cuffed her wrist to the surgical bed–not that she was in any position to move her arm. Stare at it all she liked, she could not will it to move. Anything from twitching her finger to rolling her shoulder. Alarm as dull as the throbbing between her ears rolled over her as her mind reach out to the other–

A wash of blood drowned her senses. 

Whirring machinery.

Snapped bones. 

A scrap of sweater wetly slapped at her feet.

Nausea rolled over her. With an empty stomach she was left to wrestle with dry a heave as she struggled to shove the memory out of view as quickly as possible.

It’s gone.

It’s gone.

I’m never working in a shop again.

“Awake?” 

It took great effort, but Eliza was able to turn her head toward the voice. Flush beside her bed was a stainless steel worktable with what she assumed was a mannequin arm laid across it. Mr. Stamatin was hunched over it as he fiddled with its wrist. She had to clear her throat to find her voice. “...yeah.”

He did not look up. “Good, good.”

“What… happened? Is this the hospital? What…” Eliza trailed off as she felt her heart pick up pace, the pressure in her skull increasing. Fuck. She sucked in a shaky, steadying breath. Grateful for whatever IV cocktail she’d been put on because drug weight seemed to be the only thing grounding her. The space outside of their halo was dim, but not indiscernible. More of what you’d expect from a typical OR– equipment she barely recognized, messes of tubes and bags and lcd monitors. Most of it appeared a couple decades out of date, but not so old as to be unrecognizable. 

But mixed in between the islands of sterile surgical steel were more commercial-looking workbenches and organizers. Stations more befitting of the scene shop they shared than a hospital. Squinting past the darkness, she could swear she saw five… maybe six ornately carved wood panels lined up along a far wall–and if she focused she could smell sawdust underscoring the sterile sharpness of the cramped room.

Mr. Stamatin took a few moments to wrap up his work before pulling away from the arm, directing his attention fully on Eliza. She hadn’t noticed before, but despite the clear cut and peeled back skin around the carpal bones, he held no blade or tool in his hand. He wasn’t even wearing gloves–his bare fingers shone bright red in the lamplight. “You are in my surgery. Your sleeve was pulled into the lathe, along with your arm. Thankfully the rest of you did not follow.”

‘My’ surgery? “...is that my arm?”

“Not the original. That was irrecoverable. However, I happen to have a spare that should substitute just fine, with a bit of tailoring.” He turned back to his work. The tips of his fingers peeled back to reveal bleached bone tips, sharpened to fine points which easily manipulated the fine bands of tissue of the substitute hand. 

Eliza blearily blinked past this, squeezing her eyes shut until she saw stars and looked again. The bare bone was still there, still fraying away loose tendon string. Okay. Cool. Meanwhile, Mr. Stamatin’s words glided across the IV-glossed surface of her brain like a skater on fresh ice. Lost an arm but don’t worry. You’re getting a new one. As you do. “It looks dead.”

He nodded. “It is. For now. Once it’s attached to your circulatory system it should start waking back up– expect pins and needles for at least the first 12 hours, if not a full 24. Should be indistinguishable from the old one within the month.”

“Where did you get it?”

Silence. A small smile.  “You are taking this in stride.”

“I’m so fucked up I can’t even move. Not much of a choice.” Eliza’s attention turned toward her legs. With some effort, she was able to wiggle her feet around but not much else. “What am I on?”

“A cot.”

“Drugs. What drugs am I on?”

“A cocktail of barbiturates, saline solution and blood.” He glanced up at her, “would you have preferred I held off on the painkillers?”

When Eliza tilted her head back, the muscles in her neck seized painfully. Maybe he hadn’t given her enough. “...where did you get the blood?”

“Self-donated.” He gestured toward his arm, where she could see the tell-tale bruising of a heavy blood draw. “Lucky you, I’m a universal donor.”

Eliza lifted an eyebrow. “Was the arm self-donated as well?”

“...well, I had it on hand and am giving it to you. So, technically, yes.”

“Who’s arm is it?”

“No one you know.” He cracked his knuckles and leaned back, admiring it. “And its originator gave it to me freely, so you can let your conscience rest. No mutiny from this one.”

Eliza’s heart was shrieking in her chest, but she felt a part of herself nodding along. Maybe it's a dream? And if it isn’t… that arm looks pretty goddamn real, and fresh. She thought back to an uncle of hers that had his pointer finger lopped off by a butcher knife, how they iced it and stitched it back on. Less dexterous, a bit more pale, but functional. He seems stable. Like he knows what he’s doing… I think. She let her head fall back onto the cot with a sigh. “...are you, like, a med school dropout or something? Is patching people up a hobby of yours?”

Mr. Stamatin stood, looping around to the cot’s open side. His hands reached toward her butchered shoulder, disappearing from her field of view as she felt the pin-prick sensation of something tugging along the outer socket.  “All I ask is for you to trust me. Trust that I will do right by you, as someone under my care. Can I expect that from you?”

Eliza met his gaze. His eyes level with an intensity that honed onto the hairline fractures of her doubt, splitting it apart. Maybe it was something in that cocktail being mainlined into her veins. Maybe it was the shock of the situation. Whatever the cause, it wasn’t as tall of an ask as it should have been. “Again--not much of a choice, is it?”

He sat on this for a moment before turning his attention back to the socket. “How about this– if you aren’t pleased with my work, I will take you straight to the hospital. I brought you here since my home is a stone’s throw from the theater and you weren’t in stable condition. But now that you are stable–”

“--can’t you take me now?” Eliza shifted uncomfortably under the increasing burn of whatever was being done to her shoulder. “Get a professional to stitch up my arm?”

He scoffed. “A surgeon wouldn’t be able to apply this arm.”

“What do you mean a surgeon can’t? Isn’t that what you’re attempting?”

“What I’m doing is something a little more esoteric than surgery.”

“Oh, esoteric. ” Eliza groaned, “just what I want from my doctor–out of pocket procedures from Alister Crowley's big book of limb re-application.”

Mr. Stamatin’s stoic composure cracked slightly, “Oh please my practices predate him by over a millennium.”

“You’ve been doing this for a millennium?”

A wink. “Promise you won’t tell?”

If Eliza had a working arm, she’d have crossed herself. “On my grandpa’s gr–AAAHHFUCK!”

The burn flared out into an agonizing flame, hastily extinguished when Mr. Stamatin pulled back. “Shit. Forgive me, I forgot to sever the nerves.”

“What the fuck?” Eliza gasped.

“Stay with me. Talk. Let’s talk.” He caught her gaze with his own as he went back to work, “Who introduced you to carpentry?”

“Nobody–I watched some youtube videos and improvised from there –fuck! ” The pain flared again then dimmed with a snap–replaced by an unsettling numbness. “This feels like an interrogation. I feel like I’m being tortured.”

“...it does, doesn’t it?” Mr. Stamatin cleared his throat, an uncomfortable beat of silence as he searched for words. “Would you prefer to keep asking the questions? Would that help? I talk, you focus on the mend and listen?”

“Yeah…” Eliza’s attention drifted back to the wood panels. The one closest to the light depicted a tirelessly detailed oak tree, where every branch served roost to a host of different birds. They were difficult to differentiate, fine details bleeding together in the dark. It was a riot of fluid, fluttering plumage and verdant canopy. “Two questions. First: What is your name? Your full one. If I’m going to stay in your SAW basement I should at least know that. Second: If you didn’t go to school… where’d you learn to do… whatever this is? With the arm?”

“To the first–Anatol. My name is Anatol.” He stood, walking back to the arm. He gingerly picked it up, slowly turning it over in his grasp. “To the second–I will tell you on the condition that, should you be happy with your… miraculous recovery, you swear to keep what occurred tonight as a secret between us. On your life. Fair?”

“...fair.” Eliza resigned. “On my life.”

“Thank you.” He sat back down next to her exposed shoulder, aligning the humeral head of her arm with her shoulder’s socket. “This will hurt, but it will be brief. On three?”

A knot formed in her throat as she nodded. “On three.”

He adjusted his grip. “One.”

She clenched her jaw. “Two.”

“Three.”

Ao3 - Next Chapter

[bug-with-rabies]

So.... I think I like this girl...

I've had a dream of us smoking pot together while listening to TV Girl and kissing

She just got dumped by her boyfriend and I've been thinking about it

I made her a valentine's day gift bag that I sprayed my favourite perfume in and sprinkled glitter in as well as put stuffed animals in it along with a personalised hat, some nail polish, a fidget toy, some earrings I made by hand, and a card

What's so special about the card? I put lipstick on and physically kissed it MULTIPLE TIMES

I already know that she won't be offended because she's bi and I'm queer, we've kissed before, we constantly flirt, and I call her my wife

Not to mention when I joked and said I was next she completely agreed and gave me **the look**

What's **the look**? Oh it's this look we give each other that's completely in adoration and super flirty

[coffeekoe]

the idea of drawing Ash in a crop-top popped into my head so I had to draw it LOL

[hairstevington]

Steve is NOT straight

Platonic Codependent Besties Steve x Robin (Steve is bi and Robin had no idea somehow, also a hint of Steddie 😉)

1K word one shot based on this text post by my buddy @steviesbicrisis because a lot of people liked it and wanted more of it lol (link to Ao3)

“Ha ha, very funny Harrington.” Robin said as she lay across her friend’s lap. Steve had asked her to paint his nails black, because he saw some rockstar do it and decided that he could too, even though, as Robin often pointed out, Steve was a pretty boy. I don’t HAVE to be a pretty boy. Steve would always respond. Steve…. Robin would say, ending the conversation. 

“What’s funny about it?” Steve asked, confused. When he’d asked her to do this, he didn’t realize that the best method would be for her to lay on top of him, her stomach on his thighs, weighing him down. He was in the corner of the couch, his hand resting on the arm of it, and Robin insisted that she needed to be eye level with his fingers to do it properly. Three down, seven to go.

“You know, sometimes your humor is just kind of annoying.” Robin said, frowning. She loved Steve, but he drove her crazy sometimes.

“I’m not joking?” Steve responded. Robin finished the fourth nail on his left hand and shifted to face him. 

“I just don’t appreciate you making all these jokes that you’re gay when you know I’m actually gay. It’s a little insensitive.” She turned back to his nails with a huff, focusing on his thumb so she could complete the first hand. 

“Usually, yeah, I would agree, except once again, I’m not joking. Wait, did you seriously not know…?” Steve’s confusion turned to shock. She has to know. We spend every waking moment together. I tell her everything. 

“Steve Harrington, you are not gay. Need I remind you of your blind love for Miss Nancy Whee-”

“I’m not gay, I’m bisexual. Where the hell have you been?” Steve asked, his shock now turned to anger. Robin sprang up from his lap, nearly dropping the bottle of nail polish in the process. “Careful, the carpet!”

“WHAT.” Robin exclaimed, taken completely by surprise. “No, no. We would have definitely talked about this before.”

“I thought we HAD talked about it.” He responded. “Like the time I drunkenly kissed Tommy at that party and then drank more to cover up the fact I liked it?” 

“Oh my God.” 

“And then last summer when I dated that guy Mark?”

“No shit, you were DATING him?” Robin asked, aghast.

“Uh, yeah. Are you being for real right now?” Steve asked. “I literally would tell you when we were going on dates.” 

“I thought you were saying that because I was going on dates with Vicki! I thought you were being cute!”

“Robin, when have you ever thought I was cute?” Steve asked, wanting to run his hand through his hair and stopping himself once he remembered his nails were still wet.

“OH MY GOD!” Robin screamed, jumping up and pacing the floor. “Oh my god. You’re right. It’s been there this whole time.” 

“Me swearing by using Farrah Fawcett hairspray and having a lesbian for a best friend didn’t tip you off?” 

“Okay, okay, don’t be too hard on me. You didn’t know I was gay at first either.” Robin said, crossing her arms.

“How the hell was I supposed to know that?” 

“Um, EVERYTHING about me??” Robin replied. 

“Not the same. We weren’t that close yet.” Steve insisted.

“Bullshit, we’ve been buds from the very first scoop, Harrington.” 

“Okay! Well, now you know I guess! Because for some reason I wasn’t CLEAR enough before?” Steve yelled incredulously. He’d moved from anger into being amused by the whole situation. “Jesus, does nobody know? Nancy? Dustin?” 

“I don’t think so. Oh my god I have to call everybody.” Robin said, her mind going a thousand places at once. 

“Slow down, Buckley.” Steve said, holding his right hand up. “Paint me first, out me later.” Robin couldn’t help but bark out a laugh, then resigned herself to lay across him the other way. She thought to herself in silence for a few moments, finishing two nails with ease.

“Bisexual. Holy shit.” She muttered.

“I gotta say, it’s pretty embarrassing that you never realized.” 

“I’m sorry.” Robin said sheepishly. She painted another two nails. Just the pinky left.

“No, I mean, it’s embarrassing for YOU.” He clarified. Robin elbowed him in the stomach.

“Screw you.” She finished the last nail and put the top back on the bottle. “You’re all set. Wait like ten minutes and you’re golden.” 

“Perfect. I have a metalhead I need to impress.” Steve smirked. Robin rolled off him so he could stand up, then blew on his nails to speed up the process. 

“You’re kidding.” Robin said, the realization hitting her.

“Robin, we’ve been over this…” His hands flew to his hips, but he was careful of his nails. He didn’t need them to be perfect - chipped nails were hotter anyway, everyone knew that - but he didn’t want black paint on his new sweater. Robin looked him up and down.

“Fine, whatever. Pretty boy.” She smirked. He glared at her, then down at himself. 

“Shit, you think I should change?” 

“Aw, come on. Munson’s had heart eyes for you since you met.”

“Well, I’d hope so. We’ve been dating for a while now.” 

“Shut up, no you haven’t. Am I an idiot? Is my gay card about to be revoked? How have I been so dense??” She ranted, theatrically. Steve laughed.

“Okay, that was a joke. I mean, we’ve made out a few times but we’re not official or anything.” 

“OH MY GOD!” Robin yelled again, unable to control her excitement. “So EDDIE knows you’re bisexual?”

“Uh, yeah. He taught me the word and everything like a week after we met. Seriously, Robin, I think you might actually be blind.” 

“Nancy will back me up on this.” Robin insisted.

“Whatever you say, babe. You go do that and I’ll go do some very non-straight things with Eddie.” 

“Okay, then. Hey Harrington?” Steve paused at the doorway, turning back to look at Robin. “When you tell this story to people, could you…not? I mean, could you leave out the part where I didn’t know?” Steve rolls his eyes.

“No can do, Robin. It’s the only surprising part of the story, and it’s hilarious. See ya later!”  

The door shut, leaving Robin alone in the empty room. She sat on the couch, replaying every conversation her and Steve ever had, going over every fact of him that she could recall.

Jesus. She really was dense, wasn’t she?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TAGLIST: @paintballkid711 @abraca-fxckyou @allbimyself26 @jellybabiesforall

[batfam-my-beloved]

Peak Batfam Character Design Headcannons

Bruce Wayne

• Jewish/Japanese/English (Idk where I saw it but someone drew Martha and Thomas Wayne and headcannon Martha as a Jewish Polish immigrant and Thomas as half Japanese half English and I really really love that headcannon) [Edit: it was @not-another-robin ]

• Stubbly scratchy

• Thicc thighs (save lives 🙏🥵)

• Under bite

• Scars all over

• Sharp features/high cheek bones

• 5ft 5in (we support a short king 🙌)

• Wide set sholders/back muscles of the ✨️gods✨️

• Has a scar right that goes through his left brow

• Pierced ears that he got when he was a teenager and going through his "goth" faze (let's be honest it still hasn't ended)

• Mainly sticks to wearing classic black/diamond studs

• Secretly misses his long dangling edgy earings

• Panromantic demisexual

• Autistic /OCD/PTSD

• Pls let him ramble about his special interests 🥺👉👈

• Romanian descent

Dick Grayson

• Built but lean

• Very flexible

• Lovely tan skin

• Cute dimples

• The prettiest dark blue eyes you ever did see

• ✨️Nice ass✨️ (obviously)

• Long leggedy legs

• Floofy mullet hair

• Tall boi 6ft 3in (exactly 1 whole inch taller than Jason and it infuriates him 😋)

• He had to get braces at one point and it was the worst time of his life (drama queen 🤭)

• Low key a fuck boi

• He still sweet tho 😘

• His stomach is an endless black hole

• This ain't no lie this boi is bi bi bi

• Adhd go brr 💨

Jason Todd

• Latino Jason for the win baby! Specifically Mexican because I'm projecting 😋

• Built like a shit brick house

• Sturdy but soft like a weight lifter

• No six pack only tum tum 😤

• 6ft 2in (1 inch shorter then Dick and hates it 🤣)

• Stubbly scratchy (like his dad 🥺)

• Thicc thighs that can crush heads (also like his dad 😅)

• Also is riddled with scars as well, mainly bullet wounds

• End the debate: he has heterochromia one blue and one green eye

• Crooked nose from constantly being broken

• J scar on the cheek (do NOT mention it)

• His eye sight is shit but he refuses to get glasses

• He caved once started have trouble reading without getting a headache 🤓

• Panromantic asexual

• PTSD cuz this boi gots ✨️trauma✨️

Tim Drake

• Vietnamese/Irish (cuz I said so 😤)

• Long lean Built

• Floppy hair with a middle part

• Tooth gap ❤️

• Has one (1) singular dimple on his right cheek

• When not on the clock as Robin he is clumsy and always covered in bandages

• Scraped knees and elbows

• Cuz he was a Skater boi and said no I ain't wearing a helmet

• ✨️Skater boi aesthetic✨️

• Also a gamer boi

• Yes he got the cat ear headphones 🐈 😻 🐈‍⬛️

• His eye sight turns to shit over time cuz he's always on the computer

• Yes he got the hipster glasses 🤓

• Bi disaster

• OCD go brr 💨

Damian Wayne

• Arabic

• Lean muscle like an MMA fighter

• Hopes to hit a growth spurt soon but he will still end up short just like his daddy 😈

• Lovely dark skin

• Very sharp features (like his dad)

• Beautiful green eyes (like his mom)

• Long slender nose

• Teeth and ears are slightly pointed due to his demon blood

• Under bite (it's genetic at this point 😋)

• Neat clipped spiky hair

• Prides himself in not having as many scars as the rest (sign of strength in combat)

• Nonbinary/Gender Queer

• Asperger's Syndrome

• His special interests are anime, animals, and swords

Cassandra Cain

• Chinese decent

• Ballerina body with a bit more muscle around the arms

• Ballerina feet (they hurt 🥺)

• Nice olive skin

• Cute round face

• Hands have lots of little scars and bruises

• Selective mute

• ASL and Chinese sign language✌️

• Bob hair cut with an under cut

• Wanted to peirce her ears when she saw that Bruce had his pierced

• They get matching earings ❤️

• Pan 💖💛💙

• Joining Jason in the PTSD and trauma club 😗✌️

Stephanie Brown

• Hungarian decent

• More square around the shoulders

• Stacked like a classic boxer

• 3 ears piercings on each ear

• Dirty blond hair reaches a little passed her shoulder blades

• Also has had braces at one point

• Nail polish is always chipped

• Has fought several people at 3am behind a Waffle house

• Bi icon

• Low key has anger issues but is going to therapy for that now 😗✌️

Duke Thomas

• African American

• Classic athletic build (like dorito)

• Large thick hands (so that he may hold the people he loves 🥺❤️)

• Square jaw line but also soft around the edges

• Short clipped hair with his little zig zaggies shaved on the side, sometimes he changes up the design when he feels daring 😘

• Ears stick out a little (very cute 😍)

• Also has pierced ear that he's had since he was 8yrs

• He to gets a matching set with Bruce and Cass ❤️

• Over bite

• He is an ally and very supportive 💕

• His lips are chapped cuz our boi gots ✨️Anxiety✨️ and is always chewing on them

[jessmalia]

Come on, drop your Pevensie siblings headcanons

Alright, alright, alright, I have so many. Literally think about this all the time. By the way, this is going to be a mix of canon compliant and Modern!AU cause I don’t have the time to sort them. Also most of these are Edmund ones lol. 

— Let’s start off with a classic, Edmund is definitely into photography. He has a camera hanging around his neck all the time. He's really good at it too. Definitely hates when people take pictures of him, though. He prefers to be behind the camera.

— This is totally a stolen headcanon, but I can’t stop thinking about it since I read it: Lucy steals her brothers hoodies and sweatshirts all the time. It’s basically her entire wardrobe. They’re both annoyed by it but she won’t stop. 

— Susan always wore dresses and skirts growing up, but when she became an adult she found she loved the black pants + belt and white dress shirt combo. Also red lipstick! excuse me while I bi panic for a while

— Peter’s favourite class is P.E because of course it is. He’s really good at it, too. Susan is a faster runner than him though, something he always denies.

— Peter’s definitely this well known nice jock kid that everyone likes, so most people assume he’s straight and get really surprised when he mentions his crush on Sam Wilson. Then he singlehandedly ends homophobia at his school. 

— Edmund is definitely the type of kid who wears a hood over his head and has headphones on at all times. His hair is a mess and his neck hurts all the time from staring down at his phone. 

— It’s been said before, but Edmund’s music taste is just really weird indie songs no one has ever heard before, BUT he is also definitely a closeted swiftie. I won't take any critique on this. 

— Also he has a tumblr account. 

— Susan REALLY likes sad songs. Like, she basically only listens to sad songs, happy ones aren’t her thing. Songs about loss, heartache, death, that's her jam! This prompts Peter to call her a heartless monster repeatedly. 

— OH OH! Something I’ve thought about for a long time and really like: Edmund’s favourite author is Jane Austen. He loves the sass in them and the romance part is also very appealing. No I will not take criticism. 

— Lucy never got into the novels but she always watches the movie/tv adaptations with him. When it’s Pride and Prejudice night they always fight over which version to watch, because Edmund has a crush on Colin Firth and Lucy has a crush on Keira Knightley.  

— Peter is the most hopeless romantic. He loves all the classics: lending your jacket to your partner, buying chocolate and flowers, picnic dates etc. Valentine’s Day is his favourite holiday. Edmund is a hopeless romantic too, but he would never admit it. Susan is not, she’s way more realistic and grounded, and Lucy is a romantic but not hopeless lol. 

— Lucy loves painting her nails (especially in loud colours) but she’s really bad at it. She constantly messes up and gets it all over her fingers and shit. But with some help from Susan it usually ends up looking okay. 

— Edmund let Lucy paint his nails once because she wanted to see if it was easier to do on someone else. He didn’t wanna do it at first but after she begged he relented. To his surprise, though, he actually really liked it, and he started wearing nail polish regularly after that. To Lucy’s aggravation he was really good at it, too. 

— Susan keeps doing archery when they come back to England. She’s amazing at it. 

— I’ve always thought that Edmund feels like the type of guy who mostly has female friends. I just think his whole life he’s just preferred the company of girls over guys. Don’t know why, he just gives that vibe. Peter is probably his closest male friend, to be honest. 

— Edmund and Lucy are both hardcore gamers, and Peter and Susan absolutely suck at video games. They have the rare dynamic of the younger siblings always beating the older ones, something both Ed and Lucy bring up all the time to tease them. 

— I have this Modern!AU caspeter concept of the Pevensies and Caspian’s family having neighbouring summer homes (is that what you call them in English? Like, I’m talking about like a house on the countryside where you go during vacation). So they’ve like spent a lot of summers together growing up and Peter and Caspian has this sexual tension filled rivalry that everyone can see through except them. 

That’s all I have right now, will probably add more to this later. Hope you liked them! 

[green-blue-heller]

Hey, maybe some of your processing emotions is better done in DMs or vent channels on discord? I understand being in your feelings but other queer or questioning or gender non conforming straight people on here can see what you are saying and you are making them feel excluded. Misha collins won’t even see your posts about pantomiming queerness but those other fans will. Again, it’s valid for you to go through emotions and i encourage you do that — privately.

Oh I am.

But you also anoning every other person on this hellsite?

Because a lot of people are processing publicly as well.

You don’t have to agree with me so feel free to move along. Take the advice we dish out to the bibros and wincesties.

Just move along.

Also, “other queer or questioning or gender non conforming straight person”… so like most of tumblr??

I don’t see how me saying one cis white middle aged man who proclaimed to be straight and not queer, has publicly stated he went over a decade intentionally not discussing his sexuality.

Whose pinned Twitter image is him with his head back and a rainbow appearing to go in his mouth, with the caption saying about sometimes you have to eat the rainbow.

Who showed up to a panel after attending a Pride parade, with a bi Pride flag sticker on his pant leg. And who put up a pic of him in front of the bi and pan flags with the word “proud” over it.

So when I say “pantomiming queerness” I am not referring to him wearing dresses or skirts, or nail polish.

I am talking about things that directly correlate to people making a connection to the fact he was bi/pan. So when he specified “bisexual” last Friday, of course we went “that tracks.” Because he had directly insinuated that he was bisexual, specifically.

I am talking about images he has put out into the world that actually indicate he is bisexual, and not just vague things that could allude to maybe he’s queer.

But things he has directly said and done.

So yes, I will continue to publicly comment how this 47 year old man for 13+ years insinuated he was queer to a fan base he knew was mostly queer.

[sunflowersolace]

Do you have any Eleteo headcanons

oh DO I

we see lucia call raul “cariño” in día de las madres so i imagine she called him that a lot and elena picked it up

mateo loves it he’s a sucker for pet names

mateo loses stuff all the time and elena always knows where it is

“i swear i just had my tamborita” “it’s on the desk” “hey while we’re at it have you seen my-” “on that small table in your workshop”

this is basically canon but they’re very physically affectionate in public, not in an overtly gross all over each other way but they’re always touching

sometimes elena will just glance at him and her dress will go pink and she gets all embarrassed but he loves it so much it’s a constant reminder of how much she loves him

mateo had a whole proposal planned out with a speech and everything but then one night they were both really sleep deprived and he just said “hey we should get married” and that’s how they got engaged

at their wedding, mateo had to do a magic-proofing spell on her dress halfway through the ceremony because her dress kept flickering between pink and yellow and it was hurting peoples eyes

yes only one specific dress changed colours in the show probably because it was the dress she was wearing when she fell into takaína but i don’t care

gabe was mateos best man, esteban, armando, and alonso were his groomsmen (i hc that after alonso learned his lesson, he and the main 4 became good friends especially since cordoba is so close by)

luisa was elena’s matron of honour, and her bridesmaids were naomi, isa, and sofia

it was a catholic wedding and they keep the candle on a shelf above their bed, mateo wanted to enchant it so it would never burn out but elena thought it was better left alone

this one isn’t an eleteo hc but i like the idea of mateo and cedric being good friends and swapping spells n shit because the magic used in the two shows are so different

ok going on a tangent but despite tamboritas being used in every single kingdom that’s shown in eoa, we never see one in stf. has cedric ever even heard of one? and the spells that mateo uses are very different than the ones cedric uses, i think it’s pretty cool how two different spells can achieve the exact same effect (such as levitation)

they’re both pretty good cooks, but terrible bakers. mateo grew up helping rafa in the kitchen so he knows his way around but she doesn’t bake much so neither does he

again not eleteo but the only one of the 4 that can bake is naomi, she’s a natural. everyone finds it hilarious that the bakers son sucks hard at it but his ship captain wife is amazing

i’m very passionate about baking it’s kinda my thing i actually just finished making a cheesecake and honestly it’s very impressive to me that gabe grew up in a bakery and sucks ass at baking because as long as you follow the recipe you should be able to make most basic things

anyways. mateo grows his hair out to about his shoulders and elena loves to braid it for him to get it out of his face

akna <- my mom just threw a crinoline at me with no warning and i dropped my phone

elena is bi and demi, mateo is pan. mateo also doesn’t really give a shit about gender or gender presentation, he just wears what he likes. he gets gabe into nail polish.

[castiel-left-his-mark-on-me]

Okay, i kno you must got this question a million times. But seriously, what makes you think jensen and misha are (were?) together?

I do get this question a lot, but that’s okay-- I am always in the mood to talk about Cockles.

It is a lot of things. First and foremost, the assumption that people are “straight until proven queer” is frustrating. If I die and all the untold truths of the universe are revealed to me, and one of them is that Jensen and Misha are both 100% straight (I’ll be shocked but ...) I’ll accept that without issue. However, not only has Misha spoken openly about his polyamorous relationship with his wife and their female friend, but his wife also wrote about it in her book (meaning that Vicki is bisexual, so he’s obviously cool with the concept). He has also told many stories with implications of his intimate relationships with men. From his various stories involving Darius, to his college roommate, Nico who confessed his love for Misha, and the fact that Nico made that confession because he witnessed Misha and another male friend "spending the night” together in Misha’s room, therefore “he thought it was okay” to confess his feelings ... plus Misha’s support for the LGBTQ community, and his comfort with “joking” about being intimate with his male costars and friends, all make me think that the man is a Kinsey 4 at very least.

Now, as for Jensen ... he’s a little more complicated, a little more subtle, but the combination of so many little things, plus how he and Misha act around one another makes me think that he is also not straight, and he very much enjoys being not-straight with that Blue Eyed Cutie Patootie. From Jensen’s early days, cheerleading and acting in school plays in spite of being bullied, to his very non-traditional Texan affect, to his comfort level with being physical with the men in his life (caresses and soft touches, hugs, standing very close to one another ect) to how he sometimes speaks to them, the roles he took on -- soft, sensitive “boyfriend” roles in soap operas and teen dramas, to seemingly bi-sexual roles in movies (i.e. “Blonde”), to quirky-- very liberal roles across from his future wife, where he got to wear make-up and pro-feminist clothing, and nail polish (i.e. “Ten Inch Hero”) that he admitted was “fun” to act in.

He doesn’t seem to only want to portray the “manly-man” and as someone who’s grown up knowing a lot of Texans, that’s not a common mindset. As Jensen said himself in that previously linked clip-- sometimes people forget that he’s not actually Dean. He’s an actor and he enjoys looking in the mirror and seeing new versions of himself; but if he were that typical “man’s man”, a hardcore Texas cowboy who must remain stoic and rough around the edges, I don’t think he’d enjoy seeing himself differently. In contrast, just look at Jared (and this is not meant as Jared-hate). Jared is also a Texan, but he is WAY MORE like the Texans that I’ve grown up knowing. He’s a little cocky, has a frat boy sense of humor and basically plays the same kind of roles over and over. Yeah, he might be “the pretty boy” but he’s “pretty” to the average middle aged white woman. He’s the Fabio on the cover of romance novels. He’s built, and he’s “tough” and he’s not typically emotional unless he’s just lost the love of his life ... he’s played that character in basically every show or movie he’s been cast in, and I have a feeling he will always play that character. Why? Because that’s how he sees himself, and straying from that would be hard for him; and that’s totally fine! Again, no hate; but the fact that that sort of mindset is something I’ve seen a lot of in the “typical straight Texan man” and then the fact that Jensen is pretty much none of that, is telling. Yes, Dean is a bad boy and macho, but he’s almost a parody of that kind of guy. He is macho with a soft side, he is a deadly bad boy who is kind and soft with children and animals. He likes hardcore guy-movies and porn, but also watches anime and chick flicks. He is a walking contradiction to the typical male-ego normally portrayed in film, and that’s why his character is so intriguing, and that’s why Jensen is so intriguing because he always gives his roles layers and dimensions and nuance that go against what we normally see. And to act in those kind of roles, to bring them to life like that ... I feel like there has to be some truth to it. So, all this is to say that Jensen is not your “typical straight Texan” ... he is something different, something more, and that’s never more clear than when he’s letting loose around Misha...

His accent kink, flashing him, straddlegate, the looks, the anniversary dinner, the compliments, the valentine’s card, matching clothes and accessories, and so on and so on . Plus, there is how others react to them being around one another ... like Jared (for more, just search my shipper!Jared tag) and Ruth. It all points to something being different about Jensen and Misha’s relationship with one another. Jared and Jensen have a very typical older/younger brother relationship-- where Jared acts goofy and annoying and Jensen just rolls his eyes at him, until they can act goofy and annoying together against someone else (i.e. Misha or Alex) and then they’re a team. But Jensen and Misha have something else. There’s a fondness there. There’s adoration and acceptance and comfort and secrecy. They seem to live in their own, little world when alone-- and even when they’re not alone. They talk to each other rather than the audience if they’re on stage, and half of what they say is in hushed whispers and private jokes. They act exactly how my husband and I do when we’re in public. We both prefer each other’s company anyway, so the rest of the world just dissolves away. And that’s the main point I’m trying to make I guess ... Jensen and Misha act like a married couple. Not just in the bickering and silliness, but in the trust-- in the closeness, in the solidarity of their words and touches.

Jensen and Misha aren’t straight ... and they aren’t just friends.

They are “together” in whatever way you interpret that word, and I think that it’s one of the most precious things I have ever witnessed.

[odos-bucket]

In Which Each of Bruce’s Kids Come Out to Him

and then he comes out to them

Dick

They’re working on opposite sides of the coffee table in one of the manor’s more habitable sitting room’s. It’s become a regular part of their weekday routine: Bruce finishes up whatever office work he has to do, while Dick does his homework, and talks about his day. Usually there are snacks involved. A parenting book Bruce had read recommended trying to get their work done together. It’s a good way to keep connected with their increasingly busy schedules.

“So anyways…” Dick’s story is starting to slow down a little bit, and the shift in tone has Bruce glancing up from his paperwork. “I should probably tell you, since, well, everyone knows at school now.” His voice is still conversational, and relaxed, but a little distracted.

Bruce shifts him his full attention.

“See, what happened was Cameron Josephs in my third period biology class came to school with nail polish on today, which I noticed with my clever detective skills, and promptly dismissed as unimportant, and everyone else noticed with their nosy pre-teen skills, and promptly lost their shi- I mean, minds over. And that was Mrs. Horton’s class, and she has absolutely no control over her students, so it sort of became this whole big thing. Kids were making fun of him, and other kids were yelling at them to knock it off, and he was just trying to do his work, but the rest of the class got into a big fight. And then Brad Cormick- he’s on my basketball team- made a homophobic joke, and we were sitting at the same table, and I could tell that he wanted me to laugh at it. So I told him to shut up, and said that I was bisexual, not that any of it really had anything to do with anything else that was going on, but it did get him to shut up, which was good. Except that I think it may have been because I have more friends than Cameron does, which is totally unfair, and everyone should just be nice to everyone else no matter what, but also I guess not really the point… The point is, yeah, I’m bi. Oh, also frog dissection got moved to tomorrow because one kid threw up.”

Dick takes a deep breath (finally) and a long sip of his juice, before immediately returning to doodling athletic stick figures in the margins of his algebra homework.

Bruce studies him for a moment, trying to figure out what kind of response is expected of him, what would be helpful for Dick to hear. He’s really not very good at this kind of thing.

He’s saved from the risk of putting his foot in his mouth when the science class story continues.

“Are frogs really that gross? I don’t think they are. But I guess our basement is filled with guano, so maybe my tolerance is heightened by regular exposure to the substance most frequently equated with insanity.”

Dick hadn’t seemed nervous before coming out, or relieved after. And if he’s not going to make it into a big deal then neither is Bruce, even if a part of him feels pleasantly warmed by the casual show of trust.

Jason

Bruce loves picking up his kids from school. It’s not something that his schedule allows him to do very often, and Jason- as Dick had been before him- always seems pleasantly surprised to see him. It’s a little thing in the grand scheme, but it’s just nice, normal. And he would never say it out loud- he’s not sure why, he knows he should- but he cherishes the little bit of extra time spent with his boys.

But today Jason isn’t happy to see him.

Bruce pulls up to the curb, and only has to scan the crowd of teenagers for a few seconds before spotting him. He’s on a bench with another student, their shoulders pressed together despite wide swaths of free space available on either side of them. Jason’s pointing out something in a textbook, while the other boy plays with his free hand.

Bruce pulls slightly to the side to let another car drive around him, figuring he’ll give Jason a few minutes to finish up, and notice that Bruce is there, rather than call out and risk embarrassing him.

It’s not even a full minute before they make eye contact across the lot, and immediately something in Jason’s expression changes. His eyes go wide and startled, his posture suddenly tightened. In one fast motion he shuts his book with both hands, muttering something to his friend as he practically throws himself off the bench.

Now feeling on high alert, Bruce sweeps an intense gaze over the school yard for anything that could have upset his son. He doesn’t manage to spot anything before Jason arrives at the car and pulls himself into the backseat (where he never sits, unless the front is already occupied). He starts talking before Bruce can ask what’s wrong.

“That wasn’t what it looked like!”

Bruce frowns, and looks over both Jason and the area in front of the school in an attempt to identify something that isn’t like how it looks.

“He just-“ Jason flinches, seemingly realizing something wrong with whatever he’d been about to say, and cuts himself off with a sharp breath. “I mean-“

Feeling lost is by no means a new part of parenthood for Bruce, and he’s sure it’s something he’ll experience many more times going forward. But, god, he really hates not understanding what’s going on, not knowing what to do, and he doubts that he’ll ever get used to it.

“Jason,” he tries. “Slow down.”

“Yes, sir,” Jason answers automatically. “Sorry.”

It’s been over a year since Jason’s called him ‘sir’ and the sudden reintroduction of the honorific sends a cold chill down Bruce’s spine. For a second they just stare at each other, with what Bruce is pretty sure are matching expressions of partially concealed horror.

“Jason,” he says more quietly.

“I know,” Jason interrupts. “I’m sorry. Please-“ He stops himself, covering his mouth before he can finish the thought, and then just as quickly lowering the hand back to his lap.

Another silence follows, short but harrowing. Then finally Bruce makes a rare admission

“I have no idea what’s happening right now.”

Jason stares at him, and the wider his eyes get the younger he looks, and the more Bruce wants to scoop him up into his arms. But he just waits, and tries not to look too expectant.

“I-I was holding hands with Derek,” Jason breaths out.

“…Alright?” He’s heard that name before. Jason doesn’t have as many friends at school as Dick had, so they’re a little easier to keep track of, even if Bruce has only ever met any of them in passing. “Is this someone you’re worried I’ll embarrass you in front of?” He asks after a brief pause.

Jason keeps staring at him, expression crinkling as his breathing grows erratic.

Bruce finds himself automatically exaggerating his own inhales and exhales, resting the side of one hand against his sternum, to remind Jason of some of their breathing exercises.

“That’s it, chum,” he says as he sees it slowly begin to work. “Everything’s okay.” For all he knows- or doesn’t know- right now it might not even be true, but dammit for his kid he will make everything okay.

“Everything’s okay,” Jason obediently echoes.

Bruce takes his hand off his chest, and starts to reach towards him. But Jason flinches away from him, not as violently as he had back when they were still new to each others’ lives, but it’s enough to make Bruce feel sick. He can practically feel the wrongness of it squeezing his heart into shards as he slowly withdraws his arm back into the front seat. He had truly thought that they had gotten past this.

“I’m sorry, Jay,” he says softly, a small concession to the part of himself that wants to beg his son’s forgiveness for whatever he’s done to make him afraid. “I’m so sorry.”

Jason’s not looking at him anymore. His head is down, and his gaze is fixed on his knees.

Bruce hesitates.

“I’ll never hurt you.” It’s a reassurance he had thought they were past the point of needing, but if they aren’t he’ll say it as many times as he has to. “Never.”

“Are you mad?”

“Is there something particular that I’m supposed to be mad about?” Bruce asks carefully.

“... That I was holding hands with a guy,” Jason elaborates, after a steadying breath.

Oh, Bruce is an idiot. What kind of detective is he if he can’t even- He cuts himself off, realizing he can’t wait too long to respond to that.

“Of course not. That’s what this is about?”

“I never meant for you to find out,” is the response he gets. And doesn’t that just hurt like hell to hear?

“That you like boys?” Bruce confirms.

“And girls, both. But I didn’t know what you’d think, so I figured if I couldn’t be sure it was better to keep it to myself.”

Bruce closes his eyes, taking a second to calm his own breathing.

“I never want you to feel like that,” he says. “About anything. I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear. I love you, Jaylad, that isn’t contingent on anything.”

I wish I could have protected you from whatever it was that made you feel like this was something you had to hide. He doesn’t say it.

Jason is finally looking at him again, gaze thoughtful and careful. A long moment passes, before he surprises- and momentarily terrifies- Bruce by getting out of the car. But before he can react to that, Jason’s climbing into the passenger seat, and after a second of hesitation, leaning into Bruce’s side.

“Okay,” he says quietly, sounding a little choked up.

Bruce puts an arm around his shoulders. The closeness is a balm after the pain of having his son flinch away from him.

Tim

Tim isn’t supposed to come over today. His parents are in town, and Bruce had made a point of hiding his reluctance when he’d given Robin the week off, chastising himself for the empty nest syndrome he has no right to be experiencing- at least in regards to this particular child.

So he’s surprised when he hears Alfred’s throat clear, and looks up to see both Alfred and Tim lingering in the doorway to his office. It would be odd to see him here at this time of day even if they had been planning to go on patrol; sunset is still a few hours off.

Bruce immediately has a bad feeling. He knows it’s commonplace for the Drakes to disappear unexpectedly partway through whatever length of time they were meant to be spending at home. As Batman it’s made his life easier numerous times. As a parent it’s beyond his comprehension. If he still had his boys at home- but he can’t think about that, not without breaking down, and if Tim’s just been abandoned that’s the last thing he needs.

As he approaches the door, Alfred’s pointed look, and Tim’s vacant expression confirm that he’s right to be concerned.

“Tim.” He keeps his voice neutral. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

He picks up on Alfred’s glare a fraction of a second too late to realize that he’s said the wrong thing.

“I’m sorry.” There’s something miserable in Tim’s voice, that makes Bruce want to bundle him up in a blanket. Before he can assure him that he has nothing to apologize for, Alfred cuts in.

“I told Master Tim that he’s welcome to stay with us for as long as he needs.”

Bruce nods automatically, looking down at Tim, who’s glassy expression looks a million miles away.

“Tim,” he says gently, eventually drawing the boy’s gaze, but feeling disconcerted by how delayed the response is.

Alfred leaves with a comment about putting a kettle on for tea, closing the door firmly but softly behind him. The sound it makes as it pulls all the way shut still makes Tim twitch.

“Do you want to sit down?” Bruce offers.

Tim stumbles a bit on his way to the couch. He’s so out of it; He won’t be patrolling tonight, even if his schedule’s suddenly open for it. Bruce sits down on the other side.

“Are they gone again?” He asks, trusting fully that the vaguely worded question will be completely understood.

There’s a worrying delay before Tim shakes his head, giving Bruce ample time to wish for Alfred back before he can register the response enough to be surprised by it.

“So...“ he begins uncertainly, before being cut off.

“I’m sorry,” Tim says again. “I don’t mean to be a bother.”

“You aren’t a bother, Tim.”

The- admittedly somewhat monotone- assurance just gets him a shrug.

“Can you tell me what happened?” He tries.

“Do I have to?” Tim asks after a long silence. “Can’t I just stay here?”

Bruce frowns.

“Of course you can stay here. But I think I really need to know what’s going on.”

Tim stares at him, eyes shining, mouth opening and closing several times before he speaks.

“Can I- Alfred says I can tell you something, and you won’t get mad?”

“Well, that depends on what it is,” Bruce says, thinking back on every time a robin has had something to tell him, but first wanted confirmation that he wouldn’t be angry.

Tim seems to shrink at his words, his breath catching audibly as he curls in on himself. Fuck, Bruce is bad at this.

“What do you have to tell me?” He asks.

“Well now I don’t know if I want to!” It almost comes out as a yell, strained by the sound of held back tears, and Bruce is a little taken aback.

“I’ll probably find out at some point,” he reasons.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Tim chokes on something that sounds like a suppressed sob.

No, no, no no. This isn’t supposed to happen. Bruce reaches out for him in an awkward and hastily aborted movement.

“I can’t,” Tim says after a minutes, tears streaking over his pale cheeks. “If you don’t-“ His voice catches. “I need you to let me stay here.”

Bruce’s heart hurts as he scooches a little closer, reaching out to rest a hand- hopefully not too awkwardly- on Tim’s shoulder.

“Of course you can stay here,” he reiterates. “I told you you could stay here. Even if I’m mad at you you can stay here. If you-“ He searches for a moment. “-Took the batmobile out on a joyride, and drove it into the harbor, I’ll be mad at you, but you’ll still have a place here. One will never have anything to do with the other.”

Tim makes a noise that’s over too quickly for Bruce to be able to tell if it had been a laugh, or just more crying.

“Did Jason do that?” He asks in a hoarse voice.

“Dick,” Bruce corrects.

This time Tim definitely snorts, which has Bruce smiling in spite of himself.

“Did you do something worse than that?” He asks.

It’s meant to be a joke, but Tim makes an unhappy face at the question.

“I- no!” He says, defensive, but confident. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Bruce gives his shoulder a squeeze before releasing it.

“Then why would I be mad at you?”

The humor that had begun to make its way into Tim’s expression disappears again, and Bruce curses himself.

“Mom and Dad were mad,” he says quietly.

Bruce scowls. He tries pretty hard not to let his dislike of Jack and Janet show around Tim- though he’s long suspected the young detective can tell- but it’s harder to hide sometimes than others.

“You said they were still home,” he remembers. “Tim, did they kick you out?” He does his best to keep the anger out of his voice.

And then he finds himself doing his best to keep the anger off of his face when it takes Tim a moment to answer the question.

“I don’t think forever,” he says uncertainly. “Just- They said they needed time to think about it, to d-decide what to do.”

The slight stutter puts him over the age, and fury starts to trickle into Bruce’s voice.

“To think about what?” He demands. Hell, that place is more Tim’s home than it is theirs. They have absolutely no right to ask him to leave! And where the hell do they expect him to go? Bruce forces himself to clench his jaw, and take deep breaths.

“...I’m gay,” Tim finally says.

Bruce stares at him for the second that it takes for the words to register, and connect back to the rest of the conversation.

“That’s it?”

He’s wincing at himself before the question is all the way out of his mouth, immediately convinced that he’s said the wrong thing again. But then, to his immense relief, he realizes that Tim has started laughing. It isn’t deep, or sustained. His voice is still a little weak, and his eyes are still a little red. But he’s definitely laughing, and Bruce realizes vaguely that a robin laughing is still his favorite sound in the world.

“That’s it,” Tim confirms, on the tail end of his laugh.

“Oh, Tim.”

Bruce doesn’t give himself a chance to second guess the motion before he pulls the boy into a hug, satisfied that it was the right course of action when he feels Tim melt against him.

“Of course I’m not mad, of course I’m not mad,” he repeats like a mantra. “I’m sorry I let you think I would be. You’re right, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

A few seconds pass, and he realizes there’s a wet patch at his shoulder where Tim’s face is buried. Bruce freezes, totally unsure of what he’s done wrong this time.

“I’m sorry,” Tim breaths out. “I- thank you. Thank you! I don’t know what I would have done if- I- I don’t want to be alone!”

“Not alone,” Bruce promises. “You’re not alone. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Tim presses closer, and Bruce takes it as a cue to tighten his hold.

Alfred finds them like that a few minutes later, Tim curled up in his arms, while Bruce cycles through reassurances. The look they exchange is enough to confirm that they’re both thinking the same thing: this kid is ours.

Cass

One day Cass hangs a little pride flag up on her door. Later in the week when she catches Bruce glancing at it, she comes up to him, gives the flag a meaningful nod, before just saying, “Girls!” in a happy voice, giving him a hug, and disappearing down the hall.

Damian

Bruce can identify every member of his family by their knock, but Damian’s is particularly distinctive. Not just because it tends to come from a lower part of the door, but because Damian has cultivated a strong knock, the way businessmen cultivate a strong handshake. It’s a very confident and determined sound, that he often finds himself stifling a smile at, knowing that that isn’t at all the intended reaction.

“Come in,” he calls, and there’s no pause before Damian strides into his office, confident as ever. When he speaks however, the undercurrents of his voice tell a different story.

“Father, there is something I wish to discuss with you.” There are a few hesitations, that don’t quite manage to turn into stutters in his voice, ones it’s unlikely anyone outside of their family would notice.

Bruce doesn’t comment on them, just nods for Damian to sit down and continue.

His legs don’t fully reach the floor. Something else that Bruce has learned not to let himself smile at.

“Grayson says…” he begins confidently, before trailing off.

Bruce just raises an eyebrow for him to continue, not feeling like he has enough information to put anything together from at the moment.

“Richard says,” Damian continues more carefully. “He came out to you as bisexual when he was around my age?”

Bruce nods. He has a feeling that he knows where this is going this time.

“He did.”

“He said that you were okay with it?”

Bruce nods again.

“Dick is my son. My love for him isn’t conditional, certainly not on that. There’s nothing wrong with not being straight.”

Damian had broached the topic using Dick as a proxy, so Bruce had followed his lead and assumed that Damian would know to automatically apply the assurance to himself. But Damian’s face just falls into a puzzled frown.

“So why…” he begins, before changing track. “Richard isn’t your biological son.”

Bruce frowns back.

“Damian, you know that doesn’t make a difference to me. I don’t love your siblings any less because they’re not-”

“I know,” Damian cuts in. “It isn’t about loving us differently.” He says it very matter of factly. “I have the ability to carry on your bloodline, whereas they do not.”

“That ability isn’t an obligation,” Bruce says, wondering why his kids never seem to be able to just worry about normal things. “And it’s certainly not something that you need to be thinking about at thirteen years old.”

Damian nods slowly, staring down at the desk with a look of intense concentration, before slowly raising his gaze to Bruce.

“Mother and Grandfather said that you wouldn’t like it, if I wasn’t interested in girls,” he says quietly.

Bruce sighs. of-fucking-course they did. He gets up from his chair, and moves around the desk to kneel in front of Damian.

“Well they’re wrong,” he says simply. “And they had no right to lead you to believe that it would make any difference to me. Just like I don’t love your siblings any less, my love for you is no more conditional. Understand?”

It takes a moment, but Damian nods.

“All right. In which case, I suppose... I’m gay.”

“And I’m proud of you,” Bruce says, before pulling his son into a hug.

Bruce

Bruce looks at his assembled family, and begins to feel a strange sense of trepidation tickling at the edge of his consciousness.

They’re all here. Trying to get the whole family together all at once is like pulling teeth. But he told them it was important, and they all came. There have been plenty of points over the course of the years when that wouldn’t have happened. And even though they’ve all been pretty settled with each other for a while now, he never wants to take for granted having his whole family together- not that he thinks the part of him that only seems to settle when he has all of his children within arm’s reach would let him.

The comfort of having them all be together is overwhelming, but the trepidation is still there, just like it probably always will be any time he manages to round up the courage for anything resembling feelings talk.

They’re all in one of the living rooms, sprawled in a comfortable half circle across various couches and chairs.

“There’s something I wanted to tell you all,” Bruce starts to say.

“Are you dying?” Stephanie asks casually.

Beside her, Cass freezes, looking horrified.

“I’m not dying,” Bruce says quickly.

At the same time Steph rubs a hand up and down Cass’s arm and assures her she was kidding.

“Not like he’d tell us if he was,” Dick says.

He knows it’s meant to be a joke, just like Stephanie’s question had been, but it still sends a chill through him. Mostly because he can’t say for sure that Dick is totally wrong; it’s the kind of thing he easily could have kept to himself. But then he sees the uncertain frown that Damian is giving him, and Cass’s wide, anxious eyes, and decides that he has to be wrong.

“I’m not dying,” he repeats, reaching out for Tim who’s sitting closest to him, and who’s been staring very intently at the floor since the topic came up.

Tim leans into the touch without shifting his position.

“And I would tell you,” he adds seriously, feeling absolutely wracked with guilt over the fact that up until this moment he doesn’t know if he would’ve been able to claim that with any certainty.

“I swear, if there’s anything wrong with me, all of you will know as soon as possible.” By the time it comes out of his mouth, he knows he means it with total certainty.

“I think we’re all pretty tuned into the fact that there’s something wrong with you,” Jason offers, and the tension in the room breaks.

Bruce smiles despite himself. That was agonizing. Compared to that getting on with the conversation he’d previously been so apprehensive to have will be a relief.

“What did you want to tell us?” Duke asks.

“It can be… difficult for me to articulate what it means to me whenever one of you trusts me enough to share something about yourself. I thought that I owed it to all of you to return the favor, and share a… recent discovery of mine.” He stumbles through it as awkwardly as he’d expected to.

“This is weird,” Stephanie stage whispers.

“I’m bisexual,” Bruce admits.

“Bruce!” Dick says excitedly.

“Unacceptable,” Jason cuts in. “We already have enough of that nonsense in this house!”

Tim kicks him in the side.

“Well, seeing as it’s an option, I for one prefer the idea of you pursuing romantic entanglements that bear no risk of resulting in pregnancy.”

“Noted, Damian.”

“I’m happy for you, B,” Tim says. “It can be hard figuring yourself out.”

“Thank you, Tim.”

“Is that it?” Duke asks. “I mean, not that it’s not a big deal- and I’m happy for you too by the way- it’s just that most of our family meetings involve addressing some kind of crisis.”

“That’s it,” Bruce admits.

“Perhaps- seeing as we’re all here anyways- we could take this opportunity to have dinner together as a family for once,” Alfred offers.

[soupthatistohot]

Sk8 headcannons because brainrot pt. 6

- Langa learned how to make his own Canadian poutine, and it’s one of the few recipes that he has mastered since coming to Okinawa

- Kaoru cut his hair off in a fit of anger right after high school, but his hair always grew quick fast so he was back to his desired length within a few years (it was soon after this that he mellowed out, started his buisiness, and re-evaluated some of his life)

- Oka has an impeccable gaydar and knew the exact moment that he saw Reki and Langa being all chummy together that they were gonna end up being a couple

- Miya’s first RPG game was Pokémon Pearl, he bought it used from a store when he was five years old.

- I said in a previous post that Kojiro was a pokémon kid... so when he finds out that Miya also likes pokémon....

- when Reki and Langa go to Canada together for the first time, Reki will not admit that he is cold, even when he’s visibly shivering violently.

- Kojiro’s nickname of “Joe” came about when he went to Italy. He adopted a more westernized name when he was there to make interactions with people easier.

- whenever Langa gets hot, he lifts the hair at the base of his neck up to try to cool down a little

- when Reki and Langa start dating, Reki still calls Langa "dude" and "bro" but there's also some pet names mixed in there.

- Kojiro is shirtless around Kaoru as much as possible for two reasons, 1) because it pisses him off 2) because he likes showing off (and little does he know Kaoru is only pissed off because he has a hard time not staring too much)

- and when I say as much as possible, I mean as much as possible. Kojiro doesn't do it at Sia, even after hours, just because that's his place of work, but virtually anywhere else somewhat private is fair game. Especially Kojiro's apartment. He'll cook them late-night dinners sometimes after "S" (because Kaoru demands food) and he will cook shirtless with only a pair of sweatpants on Kaoru will bicker about it with him until the food is done

- Miya and Reki eventually bond over having friends that left them alone, it's late one night at "S" when they get on the conversation topic somehow, and both are kinda tired so they just sit and talk about it while the others are racing. For Miya it's really therapeutic since he's never had anyone to talk about it with, and Reki's just happy the kid opened up to him a bit. After, he ruffles his hair and they get to bickering and teasing by the time the others get back.

- Langa knows how to ice skate decently well, living in a cold climate and all. This also means he knows how to rollerblade.

- Both Kojiro and Kaoru suck at rollerskating/rollerblading. They go together one evening as teens thinking that the other will fail royally and that they'll be fine, but they both end up sucking and falling all over each other. This may or may not have contributed to Kojiro's bi awakening.

- Miya likes bubble tea, Reki is impartial, and Langa doesn't like it. He can't stand the tapioka's consistency.

- Reki played Minecraft when it was popular, though he wasn't particularly good at survival mode. It was still fun though, he always tried to tame as many wolves as possible and mourned every one of his dog's deaths.

- Langa keeps his apartment key on a lanyard, it'd get lost otherwise (something he found out the hard way when he was in middle school)

- Reki has one of those really disorganized wallets that's just absolutely stuffed to the brim with random coupons. He has a rewards card for, like, every single local store, too.

- Kojiro cracks his knuckles (and various other bones) and it pisses Kaoru the hell off. He knows the "you'll get arthritis" argument has no basis in science, but he uses it anyway. Sometimes it gets them talking about how they'll still be bothering each other in old age, and neither of them will admit the fact that they're kind of happy that they think they're going to stick around for the other's entire life

- there's a lot of mutual pining for adult matchablossom, but highschool? That shit's complicated.

- like Kojiro probably had a big fat crush on Kaoru, but he thought he was straight so he was completely unaware of it

- meanwhile Kaoru had a thing for Kojiro, then he fell head over heels for Adam, and sometime after Adam left the picture his interest in Kojiro resurfaced (just in time for him to go to Italy!)

- Miya had a bowl cut at one point in time. He hated it.

- Reki thought "your mom" jokes were funny in elementary school

- Kojiro thought "your mom" jokes were funny in high school

- Kaoru despised "your mom" jokes.

- Shadow was really mild-mannered in high school, he was always the teacher's pet even if his grades weren't the best. He was always good at science, especially biology and Earth science. He started college but dropped out because of financial issues.

- Kaoru totally thought about dying his hair black in high school, but Kojiro talked him out of it, and probably inadvertently complimented his hair in the process of doing so (and that's why Kaoru didn't change it).

- Reki LOVES snapchat filters, and only has the app for that reason. He does not send or recieve snaps, and has no friends on it. Reki always ropes Langa into taking selfies with him with the filters on, and Langa couldn't care less but thinks its nice to have some cute pictures with Reki.

- Miya goes to Reki's house once and lets Koyomi put nail polish on his fingers. He doesn't hate it.

- Reki's mom also offers to feed Miya a meal that is definitely not on his athlete diet, but he feels like he can't refuse the woman, so he just cheats for the night and enjoys his dinner.

- Reki's mom can tell that her son just totally adopted this sassy middle schooler as a younger brother and thinks it's the absolute sweetest thing in the world

- Kaoru started wearing yukatas when he made his calligraphy business, and found that they were actually quite comfortable, so he wore them in his daily life too.

- Langa has done shots of hot sauce at Reki's and Miya's insistence

[stanknotstark]

Nails ‘n Spa

So I have a REALLY hard time saying no to people. As I’ve grown I’ve gotten better about it but usually end up saying sorry profusely after I say no. Idk i’m very much a people pleaser so i have a hard time making my own decisions too. So this is where this came from :P

“Hey, would you like to go on a run with me?” Steve asked you.

“Uh....” You knew Steve woke at the ass crack of dawn and honestly you loved sleeping in but you really didn’t want to hurt his feelings and you don’t know how to say no, it’s just never been apart of your vocabulary since you’re a people pleaser. “Ya....I’d love to.” You smiled at Steve.

“Liar.” Loki said once Steve had left the kitchen and it was just you two. 

You sighed and laid your head on your arms with a groan. 

“I know, I don’t, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.”

“You need to learn to say no, your job isn’t to please everyone.” Loki frowned at you, sipping on his tea, walking up to you he hummed. 

“Go get dressed, something comfortable, if you wear pants make sure the legs can be rolled up and wear a short sleeve shirt or tank top. Also wear flips flops or sandals where you toes will be out in the open.”

You looked up at Loki confused but said, “Yes, sir!” 

~~~~

You and Loki were making your way down a street when he stopped in front of a nail salon, you walking so close to him you almost ran straight into him.

“We’re here.” He said, opening the door to the salon. You raised your eyebrows at him but went inside. 

The minute Loki stepped inside all the women started talking to him.

“Mr. Loki! Mr. Loki, it’s so good to see you, how are you?” One Vietnamese woman said coming up to you both, her accent strong but not so strong you couldn’t tell what she was saying.  Smiling, she shook Loki’s hand, then turned to look at you and shake your hand too. “This your girlfriend?”

“Something like that.” Loki said smiling at her too. 

“I’ll get my usual, she would like a mani and pedi,” Loki looked down to you, “Go pick a color, sweetheart.”

You swallowed, you had a crush on the God but right now he was acting as if you were a couple and you were happy about it, of course, but at the same time you thought your heart was going to burst out and run away at all this...affection.

“Ya, ok.” You said making your way to the wall of polish. Finally, you decided on a shimmering gold and the lady that had welcomed you lead you to a massage chair next to Loki where you both rolled your pants up and stuck your feet into the warm water. 

Luckily no one else was at the salon so you and Loki were able to talk more freely.

“Loki I appreciate this and all but why did you bring me to a nail salon?”

Loki smirked and turned to look at you from his chair.

“I think you’ll realize in due time, darling.”

You pouted but he didn’t say anything more so you shrugged and decided to enjoy yourself, it had been months since you had splurged on yourself like this anyways. 

The Vietnamese woman came back with a laminated sheet and gave it to you.

“Would you like the Ice Dancer pedicure, it’s very nice, especially great for your legs and relaxing them?”

You looked at all the choices there were only 5 but the Ice Dancer was the most expensive. Thinking on it you hadn’t brought your wallet....

“Loki, I don’t have my wallet, and even if I did I don’t have the money to pay you back right now...”

“Don’t worry about that, I’ve got it covered.”

“No Lok-”

“I’ve got it, darling,” Loki frowned, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the massage chair, “Please.” 

You swallowed and looked back down at the choices.

“I’ll take the regular.”

“No, she’ll take the Ice Dancer, Duyen.”

“I-”

Loki and the woman looked at you expectedly, Loki’s brow raised in question, a challenging look in his eye. You swallowed and looked at Duyen. “Ya, I’ll take the Ice Dancer.” You said looking down to your hands and fiddling with them to avoid looking at Loki. What you didn’t see was the disappointment on his face, luckily.

How were you gonna pay him back, you mani and pedi would surely cost over $100 and that would be a little over 25% of what you made bi-weekly. You assumed Loki could see the guilt chewing you up inside so he placed a hand on yours, causing you to look up at him. 

“You could have said no.”

“I- Loki I can’t.”

“Yes you can, if you don’t want it say no.”

You bit your lip but nodded, not that you were going to say no though. 

Both you and Loki sat back and enjoyed the pedicure the two Vietnamese women gave you, you both sharing small talk here and there but mostly enjoying the massage the women gave your legs. When it came to nail polish time, you saw Loki getting black. You smiled, it suited him. 

“I like black on you. You know most men would never agree to doing this or getting a clear polish.” You said admiring how the black really brought his pale skin out.

“I am not most men.” 

“That you are not.” You said, blushing when Loki smirked at you. 

Next you were both seated at desks so they could do your manicure. It had started out great and then the woman handling your nails started trying to push choices on you. When she pulled out fake nails your eyes grew wide and you panicked. You REALLY didn’t like long nails, you played the violin and couldn’t play if you had fake nails on but you’d have to tell her no. Through all your panic you didn’t see Loki not outright staring at you but smirking at your internal turmoil.

“Uh!” The woman had placed the fake nail on yours but looked up at you, “I’m so so sorry I uh play violin I can’t have long nails, I’m really sorry!” 

The woman smiled and nodded, pulling your hand up so you both could look at the nails.

“Square?” the woman asked.

Swallowing, you squirmed in your seat. You just wanted them to be plain, rounded. Looking to Loki for help he looked at you but didn’t say anything to help. Taking in a deep breath you looked at the woman again.

“Uh, no, could you make them round?” the fear going through your body finally relaxed as you got out your words. To be honest you really weren’t used to asking for what you wanted either, you were very much a people pleaser. 

“Ok!” The woman said, then pulled out a bunch of supplies which you realized was meant for gel or shellac nails. Which of course you didn’t want. At this point you were gonna be in tears soon, you really hated saying no.

Thankfully, Loki stepped in, leaning over into your space he looked at what was going on and said, “I think she would prefer just the polish, no gel today.” Loki glanced at you and winked.

Suddenly it hit you like a freight train. Loki was forcing you to get comfortable saying no. While it was a sweet gesture it was very nerve wrecking so you promised you’d get him back somehow. For now you’d be happy about him caring though. 

Thankfully the rest of the trip went without a hitch or you having to say no. Ready to get back to the tower you both walked out of the salon and headed towards the tower. 

“Thanks.” You said looked down at the ground, counting the cracks in the sidewalk as you walked. Feeling something brush your hand, you watched as Loki took your hand in his, but when you looked up he was looking forward as if it wasn’t happening. After you had walked most of the way back Loki finally spoke.

“I don’t want you to get into a bad situation simply because you don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings by saying no.”

Reaching the edge of the tower you both stopped and looked at each other, people walking past you but ignoring you both, 

“I-” You looked at your locked hands, “Unfortunately I’ve been in plenty of bad situations because of this but I’ll try harder for you.” You said, looking him in the eyes, determined. Loki looked at you, no emotion on his face, then gave a small smile.

“Good, I expect nothing less than your best.” 

~~~~

“Kid! You wanna help Bruce and me blow up something?” Tony asked you excitedly. You looked at Loki who you sat next to on the couch and he raised an eyebrow at you. That sounded extremely dangerous so you looked back at Tony and smiled sadly, “No, Tony, I’m good.” 

Tony shrugged, “Alright, have fun then love birds!” Tony yelled as he ran down the stairs towards his lab. 

You felt Loki’s fingers grab your chin and make you look at him. His eyes on your lips. 

“Good girl.”

Your heart fluttered, trying to focus on his eyes but you kept glancing at his lips. Finally, Loki kissed you. When he pulled back you still had your eyes closed and said, “I really need to say no more often.”

Loki chuckled then caught your lips again.