#i’m probably projecting

[eddienashtonn]

there’s something so autistic about the riddler as a character. the frustration of having no one really see you, the need to prove yourself smarter and cleverer than all of them to make up for the fact that you could never fit in with them, the compulsive joy of forcing others to play by your rules, the obsession with truth and answers, the comfort of having your own space where you’re in control, the fear of inadequacy, the isolation and loneliness, the need to be acknowledged in your reality to be satisfied but never able to reach that satisfaction.

[the-lovebitch]

It’s so sad that lily evans never got to see Barbie she would’ve loved it so much 😞

[greykolla-art]

Charlie: “I’m so glad my most villain-coded friend is at full power again! 🥰💕”

*throws this to you angst goblins like raw steak* ❤️

(No I will not do a part 2!❤️)

[astronomodome]

anyway I think zedaph’s like. plotline. character arc whatever is so funny to me. This man shows up to hermitcraft after being in a singleplayer world for 100 episodes and the first thing he does is turn around and build a hole in the ground and not talk to hardly anyone. And the second thing he does is trap the door. Excellent. So then he spends a season or two being a genius and inventing new mental illnesses for his viewers to have and etc etc. Dresses up for Halloween as the embodiment of death and goes up to people and asks them to die. Like. Normal things. He builds another hole in the ground and builds a complicated redstone device that can tell the time for him so he doesn’t have to go outside. And of course he traps the door again. Then in season eight he decides you know what I’m going to start regularly interacting with people other than my two (2) close friends. And you know how I’m going to do it. I’m going to put them in a box and psychologically evaluate them. Awesome. Wonderful. We love to see it. You know what that is? Growth. And so now we’re at season nine and he’s pretty regularly teaming up with the others and being silly and everything. And you know like trying to spy on them without them noticing and normal stuff like that. But at the end of the day he still lives in a hole

[pollyanna-nana]

My most controversial Dungeon Meshi opinion is that Laios would hate Omegaverse actually. He’d think it’s boring and scientifically inaccurate (the worst things it could be to him).

[hallowclave]

Small but knowing wxs

[muunrabbit]

“A family of your own….. What a luxury.”

An OdileLoops AU art that took way too long and took a piece of my soul with it! Through much encouragement, I have finished it… *Checks notes*… almost TWO WEEKS after Odile’s birthday. Wow.

Anyways, it’s based off This Thistle panel from Dungeon Meshi

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #108 Part 2

The thought sounded ridiculous and yet Damian found himself unable to completely scoff at the idea. He himself had seen some strange things in his lifetime and it wouldn’t be fair to completely dismiss the idea outright. 

“I’m unsure what your point is but I guess I suppose they exist.” Damian eventually said.

Danny chuckled at this, “I guess you're not from Amity Park huh?” he joked.

Damian scoffed, “I’ve never even heard of that place but I gather that’s where I am at the moment?” He mentally filed the name to search later. 

“Yeah, born and raised. Anyways, we’re the most haunted city in America. Ghost’s are real, you’ll probably meet one at some point. They’re uh… kind of attracted to me? Kind of like… “ He trailed off for a moment, likely lost in thought trying to come up with an example. Damian was going to call him out for spacing, they were probably running out of time before one of his siblings or Pennyworth came to check on him. Luckily Danny continued, “Hey, what city am I in right now, maybe there’s a comparison I can use?” Danny asked.

“Tt, did you not even think to use GPS to find your location before calling me?” Damian scoffed, his supposed ‘soulmate’ was incompetent, “You're in Gotham.”

“Gotham? Well I guess you could compare them to Batman’s rogues then, however they tend to play a little rough. It’s kind of how ghost’s bond.” Danny’s explanation made it sound like he was the one roughhousing with these ghosts. He wasn’t quite sure where this was going but he let him continue, “so well… this next part’s kind of hard to explain especially without proof but well… I’m what the other ghost’s call a halfa. I’m half ghost half human.”

Damian opened his mouth to retort, the notion that you could be half dead was ridiculous really. But as soon as he opened his mouth a cold blue wisp wafted out of his mouth shocking him. An unfamiliar feeling washes over him and he looked down in terror as he started sinking into the bed.

“Explain your power’s now, I appear to be sinking into your bed.” Damian demanded. The feeling was odd, it was almost as if the bed didn’t exist. 

“Uh, right, Okay… so, it’s kind of emotion based? Take a few deep breaths and you’ll be able to ease yourself back out.” 

Damian did just as Danny instructed and took a few deep breaths. Soon he was able to solidify and sit back up on the bed. Suddenly, a knocking sound was heard through the phone. 

Shit, just like he thought, they took too long and one of his siblings came to check on him. He thought it was sweet that they cared, but he’d never voice this thought out loud to anyone. 

“Danny, I need you to listen very carefully. I need you to open the door and hand the phone over to them. Don’t say anything, understand?” 

“Uh Okay?” Damian could tell Danny was raising an eyebrow at this but he did as Damian told him anyway.

“Uh, Hello?” The voice on the phone said, Damian recognized it as Tim Drake-Waynes. 

“Drake, Please step into the room and listen to my instructions,” Damian waited a moment as he heard the door shut. “Alright, meet my soulmate Danny, apparently his parents study soulmates and they did something and now we’re in each other’s bodies.”

He heard Danny sigh, “It was only supposed to strengthen the soulmate pull. It’s not my fault they don’t know about my weird biology.” 

“Weird Biology?” Drake parroted, “do they not know you're a meta?”

There was a pause before Danny spoke, “No, I’m not a meta… but for the simplicity of things, and this conversation, sure, you can call me a meta.” There was a tiredness to his voice, as if he had this conversation with someone else before.

“The name’s Tim,” he told Danny, then Drake suddenly said in an excited voice, “hey, let’s let him in on the family secret and prank Bruce. Let’s tell everyone else about it and see how long it takes him to figure out it isn’t you… we’ll have to train Danny of course. If he really is your soulmate he’s going to find out eventually and it might be good to prepare him ahead of time” The idea sounded ridiculous to Damian but at the same time, he was recently having some doubts about his Father’s attention on him. Drake had a point, if Danny really was his soulmate, he’d find out eventually. 

__________________________

Danny wasn’t sure what was going on, after he handed the phone off to Tim, they talked about some family secret. Soon Tim hung up the phone and turned to Danny, “Damian say’s Sam and Tucker are there and they’ll call back when he’s back up to speed which means that we need to get up to speed ourselves,” he glared at Danny. Danny, who was still wearing Pajamas stood there as Tim approached him. Once they were a yard apart Tim spoke again, “Listen, the secret I’m about to tell you must not be told to anyone outside of this house, got it?” He fixed a hard glare at Danny.

Danny shrunk back for a moment before a thought occurred to him, “why don’t I tell you my secret as well? Damian is already learning by now and since you're his brother you’ll probably be able to help out.” Secrets for secrets, that way they would both be afforded some leverage in the situation. 

Tim seemed to think for a moment with a hand on his chin, he nodded for a moment before looking up at Danny, “Alright, but tell me yours first.” 

[flowercrowngods]

felt like letting mike and steve work through some shit again

cw: descriptions and imagery of them being lost and self-sacrificing, left alone with trauma they have no means to work through, could read as suicidal tendencies or intrusive thoughts

🤍 also on ao3

“What do you want?” Mike asks when Steve sits down beside him, gravel crunching, their feet dangling over the dark and endless abyss that is the quarry at night.

Steve doesn’t answer right away, doesn’t really know what to say now that he’s here, now that he found him. He looks so small, now more than ever, and it reminds Steve so painfully that he’s still just a child. He was always just a child, and children shouldn’t—

It feels like they got their rights at a childhood revoked years ago, and then they were just… supposed to be okay with it. It was expected, it was implied when nobody came to talk to them after.

When all they got was one NDA after another. When none of the professionally trained adults took one look at the children that they were, and asked, Are you okay? What do you need to be okay? I will talk to you once a week and make sure you learn how to be okay again.

Steve feels like a big brother to most of the kids now, sure, but he’s not their shrink, and he sucks when it comes to actually talking about shit. He can be there to drive them anywhere, can provide an evening of distractions and as much of a sanctuary as a house as haunted as his can be.

With everything else, though, he’s helplessly lost. So he says nothing, weighs his words to make sure they come out right — especially for Mike, who’s always just waiting for him to say something wrong and throw it back in his face with the sunny disposition of a feral, rabid cat.

“Hey,” Mike says then, irritated again; but his voice is hoarse, too. Tired. No heat behind it after that stupid fight with Dustin and Lucas earlier tonight that made him snap and leave Steve’s house in a frenzy. “I said, What do you want?”

Steve shrugs, looking ahead into the darkness that feels endless and alluring and deeply terrifying.

I miss my friend! My best friend, Mike!

“Making sure you’re okay.”

You’ve changed, you know that? You’re not the guy who would jump off a cliff for me anymore, I don’t think I even know you anymore!

Dustin’s voice echoes in Steve’s mind as it undoubtedly does in Mike’s, too, and he can only imagine how much that hurts, especially if he’s shivering like that even though the night is warm for early September.

“I’m okay,” Mike says, sounding endlessly annoyed about the fact. Steve almost huffs out a humourless laugh. Yeah, right.

“Sure you are,” Steve says, keeping his tone carefully neutral.

He shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over Mike’s shoulders without a comment, half-expecting him to just throw it into the darkness below. But Mike doesn’t move, is eerily still beside him, pretending not to notice that Steve’s watching him.

“But you know it’s, like,” he starts again and trails off, looking for the right words because this is unfamiliar terrain and the ground beneath his feet is quite literally nonexistent. “It’s fine if you’re not, right? It’s actually really fucking normal to be more than a little fucked up after everything, all that crazy shit. Or just… in general.”

You were twelve, he wants to say. You were twelve and you jumped off from here. You were twelve and you were going to die. And not because of those monsters, not yet. Just because… you were twelve.

Mike doesn’t say anything, but the gravel crunches once more as he reaches for a handful of stones to throw them into the darkness one by one, the void beneath them so enormous that they don’t even hear the noise of impact.

You jumped.

The longer Mike remains silent, the more Steve wants to scream, wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, wants to make him see and understand that Steve knows about the scars a decision like that leaves, especially when you live to deal with the consequences.

He gets seizures to deal with the consequences. His ear is fucky, his eye is twitchy, his head is aching constantly, he gets migraines that knock him out for a day or two, all because he wanted to protect his friends. All because he did protect his friends. It worked. They’re safe.

But they’re also unaware of… of everything. Of the horrible stillness as clarity dawns and all signs point to the one way that always seems to work. The one easy way out, and still the hardest of them all when the plan goes wrong and he makes it out alive. When It’s gotta be me is the only thing to say, but later turns into an angry It never should have been me because the world looks different when it’s smeared with your blood.

And it’s always the lost boys who make decisions like that. Steve wonders, some nights in cold sweat, what happens if he makes these decisions without immediate danger. What happens if he just… decides to jump. Decides to run. To give the world more of his blood. Without saving anyone.

It’s not like he wants to — but he’s terrified that it’s just who he is. Who he’s turned into, terrified that his friends will forever expect him to.

And he’s even more terrified knowing that Mike jumped before he learned about monsters. Before he learned about fighting and surviving.

You were a kid, he wants to say again, but his throat is closing up on him.

“I don’t think that’s okay actually,” Mike says after a while, tearing Steve away from his fears. They’re still both looking ahead rather than at each other, but it’s fine. They’re still here. “Like, people say it is, but it feels so empty when they do, you know? Like, sure, yeah, I’m not fucking okay, but what the hell do we do about that now? Oh, right, I know! Let’s throw it in my face that I’m not good enough for you anymore now that there’s no monsters to kill anymore. Now that I’m just Mike, who’s not even enough to be that anymore, sure. Right. Yeah. Let’s pretend it’s all fine, Steve, let’s pretend it’s okay to hurt all the fucking time!”

Mike is shaking now, violent tremors running through his body, and Steve’s first instinct is to reach out and pull him close, to keep him from that edge and take him to his car; turn on the heating and talk there. But Mike seems to need the darkness, seems to need to be faced with endless depth to give voice to his thoughts.

“What Dustin said was messed up. He shouldn’t have said that.”

Mike shrugs, throwing more pebbles into the darkness, though his motions have lost their vigour. “He’s right, though.”

Steve sighs, though not unkindly. “No, he’s not. Hey, listen to me.” He waits until Mike turns to meet his eyes, and he leans forward. “It’s not okay. It’s not right what he said. You don’t deserve to have that shit thrown in your face just because Dustin is a tactless little douche bag.”

Taking a bullet for someone is not the baseline for friendship, he wants to say, and it occurs to him once again how fucked up their perception and idea of friendship must be, now that they’ve all bonded over the most horrific shit and actual grief they never learned how to work through.

It’s not even Dustin’s fault, not really. They’re all just collateral damage to something Bigger, and all they have is each other, leaving them in a vicious cycle that is so, so fucked up.

“Why’d you jump?” he asks eventually, quiet in case the darkness tries to listen in. “Back then, why did you jump?” And do you wish El had let you? Do you sometimes wish that? When your room is quiet and it’s only you living with all those silent, terrible decisions?

Mike shrugs again, but there’s not much fight left in him, Steve can see that, can feel it in the air between them.

“Will was gone,” he says like it explains everything— and it sort of does. Steve has seen the way these boys look at each other when the other’s not looking, he has seen the hurt and the anger and the gentleness stored there, the words unspoken and the fear that, despite interdimensional monsters, kinda goes unmatched.

Because they have each other. They only have each other. And if someone’s suddenly different than what they thought they knew, if someone’s suddenly different, then… Everything might just fall apart.

And Steve wants to grab him again; wants to pull him close and say, I’m the same. We have the same scars. We have the same!

Slowly, carefully, he does lean over now, weaving an arm around Mike’s shoulders and pulling him into his side.

“I get that.”

Mike swallows heavily and exhales shakily. “I don’t think you do.”

“No. I think I really, really do. But it’s okay, Mike. You won’t be alone with this, okay. I’m on your side, you little shit.”

A pause, a beat, a moment’s respite. Then, “Why?”

“Because,” his heart is racing, his mouth trembling around forming the words for the first time, but he knows it’s the right thing to do. Knows it’s important.

Knows it might just save a life.

“Because I fell harder for Eddie Munson than I ever thought possible, and once i found out what was happening, I kind of wanted to jump off a cliff, too. But I didn’t, because I had someone with the same fears as me, and instead of stupid shit we just… Cried together sometimes. Screamed into our pillows. Laughed with and at each other, calling ourselves hopeless, and— I don’t know. It’s really fucking scary, and that doesn’t go away just because you have someone to talk to. But it‘s… better. It’s so much better.”

He huffs, swallowing around the lump in his throat, smiling into the darkness.

“So I’ve got you, okay? Whatever it is, whatever makes you feel like it’s not fucking okay, I’ve got you. You come to me, yeah? Lucas does, Dustin does, even Max does. This is your official, standing invitation and whatever, okay, dickhead?”

Mike shoves at him lightly, still not parting from the rather awkward side-hug they’ve got going on, and Steve is glad for it.

“Okay, okay, geez,” the little shithead says, rolling his eyes which Steve can see even in the dark, and it feels like the edge has moved away from them, like they have solid ground beneath their feet again.

Steve doesn’t say anything more after that, just waiting for Mike to stir to lead him back to the car, load in his bike and take him wherever he feels like spending the night.

But Mike doesn’t move for another long while, and it makes Steve feel like something big has just happened between them. Like they finally have found the common ground that Steve’s been suspecting they had for months now, even years.

Eventually, as they make their way to the car and Mike goes to grab his bike, he speaks up again, but more subdued now.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“Does… Does Eddie know?”

“About what?” My tendencies to take a leap off the edge?

“You. Being…”

“Oh!” A smile as he unlocks his car and opens the back door to squeeze Mike’s old bike in there with minimal smears of dirt. “I’d hope so, we’ve been dating for months.”

“You’re dating?! You? Eddie’s dating you?”

“Yeah, listen, do you want me to just leave you here or would you rather be thrown out in the middle of nowhere?”

Mike grumbles something unintelligible as he climbs into the front seat, waiting for Steve to start the engine before he speaks up again.

“It’s just, you’re so… How did you even do that?”

Steve laughs at that, disbelieving and all, because, “Trust me, I have no idea. Must have been the ol’ Harrington charm and all that.”

Mike rolls his eyes and crosses his arms in front of his chest, sinking lower in the seats to pout. “You’re so lame.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you over how much I have a boyfriend and you don’t.”

If his heart skips a beat because it still feels like a forbidden truth saying the word out loud despite the playful banter, then he’s ignoring that in favour of revving the engine.

“Asshole.”

“Dickhead.”

“Grow up,” Mike says, but Steve can see the smile he’s not even trying to hide, and he mirrors it with his own as he turns on the radio catching the final tunes of Springsteen’s Dancing in the Dark.

They’re not okay, none of them. But the car is warm, the cliff’s edge is behind them, and they’re not listening to the same ten songs anymore.

They’re getting better, step by tiny step.

[yourlocalabomination]

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust.

[razzledazzle-pop]

Okay Okay Okay—More Samder Slides headcanons time..You’ve opened Pandora’s Box…

Personal headcanons/design things:

Keeps food in his pockets and then forgets it’s there. The way I know the amount of crumbs are insane.

Re-attached his logo with haphazard stitching so it matched Virgil’s :]

Always loses one sock in each pair. ALWAYS.

Has THE most insane takes. Leads to a lot of fun Patton and Logan discussions actually (*Hits them with the Trolley problem*: DISCUSS)

Patton would take the Utilitarian approach I think…Would think you should always sacrifice the one person in the trolley problem instead of the five because it minimizes the most suffering).

To that point, I really do think all the sides would enjoy watching The Good Place. Probably also The Magic School Bus.

All film media in Patton’s room is on VHS. Even if it came out recently. He made them that way.

I know we’ve literally seen his room in canon but in my heart it looks like Howl’s Room in Howl’s Moving Castle (insane levels of eclectic).

Has set the kitchen on fire 237856 times. It will happen again.

Has hand-made bracelets (themed each of them around one of the other sides).

Also has a hand-made doll collection…Roman’s doll is kind of like a traditional princely doll, Logan is probably a cube craft doll, Virgil’s is Coraline style (later redoes it with Remus’ help to add Virgil’s extra legs and mandibles (they’re articulated. He’s very proud)). Remus is a finger puppet and Janus is a sock puppet (those last two might change later)…

To that point: he still has a spider phobia, but he’s working on it (mostly for Virgil. A lot of it is him being like “could you please describe “x” to me, or draw me a picture before you revert so I know what to expect? :).” It’s going well.

One time they tried theorizing what kind of spider Virgil was. Patton immediately threw in Jumping Spider (he’s not) but Logan was happy to hear Patton had done some kind of research into something.

He’s Roman’s test audience/proofreader. He may be a Yes Man, but he’s good at spotting when character motives are unclear in a story/just generally to bounce ideas around with. They have days where they parallel play. Patton does his arts and crafts and Roman does his writing. At the end of it, they swap and critique.

Me throwing my takes at you (thank you for coming to my TED Talk):

[gaydexvocaloid]

can this happen in the next mafuyu focus please take her away from that house ! !

[spicyicymeloncat]

Yknow a lot of aus (school aus specifically) portray Morro as some kind of rebel kid who doesn’t give a shit

…forgetting that Morro couldn’t possibly give more shits than he gives, he gives that that much of a shit. Guys Morro was a try hard he tried so hard he fucking died.

All I’m saying is that your high school Morro would only be in detention because he punched a teacher that scored him 97% on a test.

He’s that kid wants to be class President and is wildly jealous that someone else got picked instead of him. He’d have no friends because he’s too busy corrected them and acting like he’s better than them.

Morro is a try hard, a cool kid wannabe, and mayhaps a smug little shit as a treat.

[catastrxblues]

colin bridgerton finally took the walk through hell pen had been going through for YEARS and was instantly in shambles, on his knees, begging and groveling after like five days 😂😂🫵🏼

[tridentarii-trash]

Anyone else think about the “You have rendered yourself unlovable, Mercy” line in Harrow the Ninth way more than is probably healthy? Just me?

[fantasykiri5]

Hermittober day 6! Bread!! (I’m not three days late what are you talking about)

I miss them so bad