#i don’t know

[d0rianw1lde]

Steve Harrington obsessing over the time-traveling/time-freezing aspects of the upside down.

Steve Harrington enlisting Dustin to help him understand it all-

Because if he could just go back in time.

And tell Eddie everything he wanted to tell him. Or prevent him from being involved at all- to bring him back from the dead like they brought back Will, to his knowledge.

And maybe they harness that power. Maybe it works.

Maybe it works a bit too well.

Maybe Steve’s thrown back way too far- dropped within a dusty colosseum draped in light armor, the crowd jeering and shouting around him. And when he looks around, his gaze catches a pair of familiar, dark eyes, shooting daggers back at him from the royal box.

And Steve doesn’t understand- he wanted to save Eddie. Wanted to stop him from the doom he was to face on the fateful night- he wanted to go back to the beginning to prevent him from ever being involved…

But perhaps Eddie’s doomed design is built into the fabric of time. Intertwined through past lives. And saving them means saving Eddie.

So Steve falls in love with Eddie, in every little life. Protects him from an assassination attempt when gold laurels crown his head. Pulls him from the ledge of the roof when he’s an elusive, vengeful nobleman. Listens to his ramblings on music and literature when he’s a poor, Edwardian clerk. Captures his playful love when he’s an obsessive little rich kid.

And finally meeting him again in 1986. Having loved him in everything universe, he stops him from dealing to Chrissy.

When he returns to Hawkins, he’s afraid of what he might come across. It’s only been a matter of minutes in their world, but it’s all changed.

But Eddie is back- there’s a light in his eyes, his cheeks are rosy, he’s still playing Dungeons and Dragons with Lucas Mike and Dustin.

And best of all, he retires in Steve’s bed when the day is all over.

[indieyuugure]

This is a small question for the trope page since it’s black and white: What is Klunk’s fur colour?

No problem!

Klunk has orangey-red fur. He probably looks a lot like this picture:

His stripes aren’t very pronounced (similar to the picture I chose) so he looks solid ginger unless you look really close. I imagine his eyes to be gold as well.

Good question! :]

[sunnyrmrez]

[doodlecrumb]

Marauders fandom!! You have been summoned. Look! It’s a James! Feast thine eyes! (I’m sorry, do what you want. I’m not the boss of you. Have a nice day.)

[bornwholocker]

Anyway I’m always thinking about how other characters/the skills talk abt kim and harry

This game man

[lilislegacy]

everyone, sitting in awkward silence at the dinner table:

percy, glaring:

athena: i would just like to say that—

percy: you’ve been horrible to everyone in this room? yes, we’re all aware.

athena, angrily: perseus jackson, you dare speak to—

annabeth: okay okay! let’s all just take a breath here

mrs. chase, nervous: yes i agree. why don’t we—

percy, firmly: no. you are all going to sit here and think about what you’ve done

annabeth, leaning over and whispering to him: percy, i love you for standing up for me. i really do. but i think you‘ve made your points very clear to all my parental figures about how horribly they messed up.

percy: well i still don’t think they feel badly enough

frederick, raising his hand: if i may—

percy: you may not.

[swordy-da-goat]

foal

[redfirefox-55]

Here she is, she is here!

My new darling, One Moment Of Peace, who I guess I will call my sona because aighafjahfks I don’t really know how to do this sona making thing-

[machveil]

I’m not saying I’m right, but—

I do think John Price, whether he’s your boyfriend or husband, likes to pretend to “meet you for the first time” at a bar or restaurant of your choice. it’s just a little bit of roleplay, you arriving before him. it gets his heart beating and butterflies swirling in his stomach when he walks in and sees you sitting pretty. puts on a charming smile and sidles up to you, offering to buy you a drink. “What’s a pretty bird doin’ all alone?”, voice low and smooth as he speaks, cradling his drink in one hand, the soft clink of ice against glass, “Got someone waiting for you at home?”

he likes it when you break character, soft laughter spilling from your lips as he flirts, “Did I say somethin’ funny, doll?”. as much as he wants to laugh with you, he plays his part to a fault. he doesn’t know you after all, but he’d love to talk to you. uses it as an opportunity to get information out of you, “Mmh, lovely outfit. Tha’ from your favorite brand? Is it? Looking at anything else from ‘em?”, taking mental notes of your answers. he finds himself a little distracted, crow’s feet more pronounced as he smiles, gaze soft as he listens to you talk, nodding along and asking little questions as you go. he offers to pay for your dinner, amused when you playfully decline, delighted when you give in with a, “If you insist.”. asks if you want dessert before the check comes, a deep, rumbling chuckle in his chest when you say he can have dessert back at your place, “Well, how can I say no to that?”

[rainee-chu]

I’m sorry for not posting for so long

[jesuistrestriste]

you make art put on a skirt for the halloween party.

one that’s white and frilly and just barely covering him up; one that makes him compulsively pull down on the bottom of it to conceal himself everytime he has to talk to someone. fumbling with his red solo cup as he prays that whoever he’s in conversation with thinks it’s a joke.

and people do.

when you two walk through the front door of the house party, all of his fellow tennis players burst into laughter and rush up to him. they clap him on the back and tug on his pearl-covered corset. they put their hands all over his body; someone even manages to give him a playful slap on his ass. he feels like a piece of meat.

art’s dressed as an angel, while you’re dressed as the devil. fitting, he had thought when you helped him with his thigh-highs. he didn’t want to admit that you encouraging forcing him to dress so.. femininely.. made him feel hot under the collar. not to mention the grabby touches from his stanford tennis team buddies. it was all too much.

so the night goes on, and he sticks close to your side. one hand holding yours nearly 24/7 so he doesn’t lose you.

he gets more laughs here and there when new people arrive and see his costume. they, like everyone else, assume it’s some sort of gag he’s doing. or, at the very least, a humiliation ritual that you’re subjecting him to for some reason. art drinks cupful and cupful of the nasty, syrupy party punch to dull the weird warmth brewing in the pit of his stomach.

the party dies down and art is wasted.

like, completely gone.

while you’re in the middle of a heated debate with one of your friends about whether or not the guy she’s dating is worthy of approval, art presses his hips into the back of your body and mouths at your neck. it’s slow and a little sloppy, and then you realize you have to be on caretaker duty for the rest of the evening.

but then he kisses your jaw with more intention, his hips absentmindedly rolling against you from behind. you pull him away by his wrist before your friend has a chance to realize what he’s doing.

you drag him into the bathroom and shut the door, turning to look at him. he looks like a drunk college chick. costume slipping, tights somehow ripped, cheeks flushed, hair messed up in the most slutty way. and he’s managed to lose his halo headband somewhere.

he pushes you backwards to the toilet and you ungracefully fall back onto the toilet seat cover with a hard thump. you frown up at him and shake your head.

“art,” you hum, “babe, youre- god, when did you drink so much? i don’t even—“

he cuts you off by slowly climbing into your lap. his skirt rides up his thighs, milky skin being revealed as the fabric lifts. he whimpers.

“please..”

your hands instinctively come up to his waist, cupping it and playing with the dangling string holding together the back of his top. he shivers and blinks slowly.

“i.. i jus’ want you to touch me,” he breathes out, slurring the whole way, “please touch me..”

he takes one of your wrists and guides your hand up his skirt. you’re surprised when you feel how fucking hard he is inside the lacy panties you tucked his cock into before you both left for the night.

“im so fucking horny,” he gasps, “i don’t know.. dunno why ‘m so.. im leaking already, please-“

you grope him over the fabric and he keens, his chest falling forward to press against yours before he swallows thickly and his jaw goes slack. you feel him throbbing in your palm.

he turns his head so that his lips are right by your ear, and then one of his arms reaches around to wrap around your lower back. his blonde curls are starting to stick to his forehead.

“please… please jus’ play with me…”

he cums over your fingers after just ten strokes.

you make him walk home with you as the remnants of it drips down his thighs.

[spiltm3lk]

Hello! This is my first post on tumblr I like the monkie show, ace attorney, among other things lol

[chrissy-kaos]

No caption necessary…

[smellroy]

Joke-telling is now illegal on the HMS Terror

[cokoweee]

My brains making up for not being able to doodle at work sooo…my bad