#they're in the upside down probably

[o-kettle-art]

upside-down kiss

[piratefishmama]

Fake it Till you Make It | Part 9

Eddie felt like he’d been dipped directly into some kind of crazy world where nothing made sense. Or rather where everything he thought was true, was actually the opposite.

He was in an opposite world where despite being the obvious odd one out, he was being made to feel comfortable instead of ostracized.

These rich people? Not assholes.

Steve Harrington? Not a douche.

Okay so… that was only two things, but they were two pretty huge things on the Munson Doctrine that he’d now need to mentally re-write

Especially when the response to “we’ve known each other since high school but—but I guess I never really thought much about him until I saw him with Robin at The Hideout, apparently he was making sure my band was child safe for Dustin and the other kids and I—"

Was, “your band?” Interrupting him may have been rude but Lynda looked damn near sparkly eyed at the idea of him being in a band, as if middle-class people like the parents he’d freaked out thus far only thought they knew how to behave to appear richer, and rich people were actually this whole weird little species of their own. “Steven here has always sort of gravitated toward talented people, first Nancy, I’ve never known a girl quite as driven to be heard by the people around her as that one and I’m a lawyer, I really admired her for that.”

“You did?” Steve asked in surprise, why had they never said anything?

“Of course I did! Karen told me she wanted to be a journalist, gosh let me tell you she’ll make an incredible journalist someday, we’re already proud of her.” They knew she wanted to be a journalist? They were proud of her? “Then there was Robin—"

“Robin is my friend.”

“Oh, I know” he didn’t like how she said that word, that know, she couldn’t know-know, right? How would she—how could she? No… no she couldn’t. Robin had never said anything, never hinted at anything, she was terrified of being known, scared of the consequences. It’d taken being stuck in a broken elevator at work and him freaking out about enclosed spaces to come out to him, and he’d had to, in a moment of panic so sure he was going to die in there, come clean about his crush on her for her to do it! “That doesn’t change the fact that you had a crush on her first, don’t think we don’t know about that, we do. Your children are loud.” Dustin. It had to be Dustin. Not the queer thing, the crush thing. He’d never even told the little snot about that, he’d just noticed it, latched onto it, and like a dog with a high prey drive, just refused to let go, shaking it around until it was nothing but tatters. “She’s so talented in linguistics. and languages aren’t easy let me tell you, I don’t know what she intends to do but she’ll go far in it when she gets there.”

Steve was just kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop, still semi-convinced that the whole thing was performative and that the second Eddie left, the moment Steve was on his own with them, they’d pull the rug out and it’d have all been for ‘show’ and they weren’t supportive at all.

He was ‘dating’ a musician. Not a rich one. An unknown musician from an unknown band, living in a trailer park, with zero prospects, zero connections, and frankly a terrible reputation around the parents of Hawkins for his little fake date scheme.

Surely that had to be breaking some kind of unwritten rule for rich kids. Right? Surely his parents would have expected more from him, right?

Surely this wasn’t actually okay… was it? Was it really okay? Could it be okay? If… if he actually wanted that? Would it continue to be okay, or were they just saving face until it was safe to return to being the disappointed set of parents he’d come to know as an adolescent?

“I didn’t know you paid that much attention…” Eddie squeezed his hand, he didn’t have to look at him to know he’d fixed those bring brown eyes on him all warm and supportive. There for him, if he needed him to step in.

If he needed him to make it all about him again, to shine the spotlight on himself in either a positive or negative light, Eddie would.

He squeezed back, he’d be okay.

“Oh sweetheart… we may not be the best at showing it, but we’re not blind. You were just a little harder to speak to when you were younger, all those parties, and the drinking, the drugs—”

“It was just—”

“Marijuana is a drug, son.” John finally spoke up and that was the end of that argument, although Eddie was visibly trying to hide a grin as the towns resident ex-drug dealer who’d maybe supplied that marijuana once or twice. “Not one a boy that age should have been consuming.” True, he’d kill the kids if he ever caught them smoking weed unsupervised.

Maybe if he was there, he’d let them do it once just to show them what it was like. But once would be the maximum, and they’d be supervised!

He’d been unsupervised surrounded by strangers with alcohol and bad decisions to make. He was lucky he hadn’t wound up knocking some poor girl up or something equally life destroying.

“Yes, like your father says it was difficult, your father and I… we had to be the bad guys more often than we’d have liked and then things at the office got busy and well… maybe all that put a strain on things, but we were never not paying attention, I’m sorry we made you think that.” Another gentle squeeze. Eddie was there.

He'd continue to be there.

“So Stevie here has a type is what I’m hearing” Eddie finally spoke up, breaking the tension, a small but warm smile on his face that Steve appreciated more than he could possibly say.

“So I like people to be passionate about what they like! I like intelligent people—”

“Oof, puts me out of luck then” Eddie cut in with a dramatic little pout on his face, hand over his heart.

“Are you kidding me? You’re smart, you’re really smart!”

“Dude I failed high school like, three times. Pretty sure they finally let me graduate out of pity.”

“Yeah but that was bullshit, not everyone is good at school. I barely passed an I’m still half certain I only did cause of the sports shit.” Maybe the money thing too “but you can come up with all kinds of stuff on the fly, I know you ‘DM’ for that dungeons and demons shit an you deal with Dustin, Mike, AND Erica like a pro and honestly that takes some work the kids are nightmare children normally, so it’d probably be actual hell when you have to believably improv their characters taking a liking to some random NPC you’ve conjured up to be a weird little one time interaction and—and I know you can recite Shakespeare! And come up with your own Shakespeare-like poems, that SOUND like Shakespeare, and you write your songs which is cool, and you play guitar which is tricky I know I tried once it’s not easy, and in debate, people couldn’t keep up with you ever and—” and he was rambling.

“—Dragons…” Eddie gently cut him off, eyes wide but his smile… it looked like a cross between awe and affection. It was beautiful, and the dimple was there which made it extra pretty. Fuck why was Eddie Munson so goddamn pretty all of a sudden?

Was it even sudden? “Huh?”

“Dragons… you know NPC, but you don’t know it’s Dungeons and Dragons…” he sounded so fond, so soft spoken it was strange… but a good kind of strange that made Steve’s cheeks warm “you—you know all that about me?”

“W-well… yeah I mean—we’re dating, of course I know about the Dungeons and Dragons stuff I—” he could explain it away for his parents but Eddie, who was in on their fake dating thing, emphasis on the fake couldn’t be so easily fooled.

“No, not the D&D stuff… the Shakespeare thing, poetry, debate class, you saw that?”

It was his turn to be bashful, to be shy, to squeeze that hand, to be honest about something he’d never thought too hard about but god he had to now, didn’t he? “…You were hard to miss, Eddie.” He’d grown up, he could appreciate what he’d scoffed and rolled his eyes at back when he was a dumb teenager, he could admit that he’d seen Eddie, that deep down, despite the scoffing, the eye rolling, that deep down he liked that.

Deep down he’d always liked Eddie. He just wished he’d have been less of a douchebag, maybe they’d have known each other sooner.

“Ehem” Lynda gently cleared her throat, not cruelly, her smile definitely a little mischievous, a little ‘i'm going to be INSUFFERABLE about this’ but not trying to break up the moment, she just had to ask “Eddie… I’m not sure if you still live at home, but… if you do, are your parents… okay with you being away for a week with total strangers? Do… do they know about—”

“Ah! Uhm, yeah! Well, yes and no. My parents aren’t really… around, I live with my Uncle Wayne, he took me in when I was a kid.” He wasn’t going into that story, and nobody could make him for the sake of a fake date scheme “He knows about me… uh… about us… he’s okay with it, but he did ask that he meet you both before we go, if I’m allowed to come with you?”

“We’d be thrilled to have you, Eddie, he can meet us any time he likes.”

Main Goal. Achieved.

Part 11

[random-autie-fangirl]

Hey, Do you have any Chara headcanons?

So technically I already have a reblogged post of Chara headcanons. Right here, within the tags. (99+) Chara neutralist squad on Tumblr

However, I most certainly have not run out of things to talk about and so...

I now present Chara Dreemurr headcanons 2: Electric Boogaloo

1. Yes, so as I said before, they have been spotted reading the dictionary cover to cover multiple times and reads english grammar books for fun. It is like they have to use one word literally nobody understands at least once a day or they will figuratively die. And of course, they would be the one to say figuratively every single time they use a metaphor or hyperbole or turn of phrase and they would get genuinely annoyed with anyone who says literally when they don't literally mean literally. Chara is the kind of kid who if someone says "can I", they will say "I don't know, can you?" like an english teacher because it's supposed to be "may I" for allowances. And, Azzy, it's supposed to be "Chara and I" not "me and Chara" ...no-one cares.

2. Something vocabulary related is that Chara absolutely, categorically refuses to swear! Apparently, contradictory to popular belief given that they're an "edgy" character, they think they are far too intelligent, high-class and mature for such gauche and vulgar words (did I mention they're a loser yet?), you see, and they would definitely consider using words that mean almost nothing to be a grave insult to their extensive vocabulary.

This doesn't mean they don't have certain stock phrases they use as exclamations or insults, though, of course. "asshole" or "bitch" becomes "you complete and utter ingrate", "what the fuck/hell?" becomes "What on this good earth/What in the Angel's name?" and "fuck you" becomes "may the angel smite you dead" or "may you burn in hell forevermore" (except that since Chara Dreemurr has proved themselves able to dish out much, much worse insults than "may the angel..." (stuff like "you look horrible, why are you even alive" for example) this might just be more annoyance than genuine hatred.)

So basically, while a normal person might say "Ow! Fuck!" when they stub their toe on something, Chara "Sesquipedalian loquaciousness" Dreemurr starts up an anime villain speech at nothing in particular while Asriel giggles and possibly records in the background. (Because of Asriel's apparent love for anime, he'd probably find his sibling's way of speaking to be the coolest thing ever as well as thinking it makes Chara some sort of uber-genius (note: it does not))

3. Okay so, since they tend to fixate on being impeccable in every way, even for the smallest of things, they can get embarrassed very easily and...very dramatically. Not finding the best word for every situation (particularly if they end up saying something wrong), not getting a perfect score on the test, anyone (who isn't the Dreemurrs) seeing them when their appearance is anything less than completely spotless.

They shall freeze and go completely blood red, they shall squeal and run off to their room. They will lie face down, not making a sound, and stay there for...hours. They will not respond, they will not be consoled. They have recently learnt they're not literally the best at everything ever and no, nothing will ever be okay again.

...They'll be back to normal within a day, though, boastful and eager to impress as ever. I think at some point they do learn that maybe not being perfect isn't the end of the world...eventually. Anyway, heard someone saying that hell exists for Flowey and it is minor inconveniences and that is true but hell also exists for Chara and it is minor embarrassments.

(Yes, I am aware this is very exaggerated, it's just more fun that way)

They have an equally dramatic, though positive, reaction to praise and compliments. Giddily skipping around and smiling ear to ear for hours, they tend to preen and straighten up, and it turns out they were lying and can cry, (a lot) just not out of sadness or fear. Though, they do get somewhat good at downplaying how much they care in front of acquaintances or strangers (even if they are nice and polite about it). Technically, only the Dreemurrs are allowed to know that Chara feels emotions.

(Also they have the same reaction to realising they are in fact the prophesied angel in the murder run, despite not being a praiseworthy accomplishment in any way, they're just happy to be, well...special. They always knew the prophecy was about them! Of course they were the angel, they're the best person in the world after all, finally they have the title they always deserved! Oh dear...)

[trensu]

Okay, as much as I love vampire!Eddie AUs (and I do; I love them) I think it's time to mix it up a bit.

Siren!Eddie needs to make an appearance.

Eddie's dad used to be a fisherman and he caught himself a siren. He was an awful person so when he found out what exactly it was he caught, he took the siren and traveled as far from any large body of water as he could.

She was lucky in that, eventually, she was able to escape and return to her home-waters but not before she had to make the dreadful man a son. A son that was left behind because there was a risk that he was too much Land and not enough Sea. She couldn't risk being tied to Land at all. Not after everything she went through; she never wanted to touch Land again.

But she made sure to teach her son, her little boy Eddie, how to hide. She gave him rules to keep him safe once she was gone.

Never go in the water, Eddie. Yes I know it whispers to you, but you can never go in the water okay? Bad things will happen to you if you go in the water.

She expected this; that he'd hear the Call. This was something she needed to tear out of him as soon as possible. It would hurt less that way; it would be easier to ignore the Call if he never submerged in natural water. She took them to the lake. They sat on the shore. She would smack him every time he edged too close to the water. The first few visits involved a lot of hitting.

She would bundle him into her arms, and kiss his head, and murmur consolation afterwards when he was in tears and hiccuping from the need to go in the water. Eventually, he learned to flinch whenever water lapped too close to him.

I know you love music but you can never sing for an audience. No one must ever hear your voice like that. I don't care how much you like it, Eddie, you will listen to me. Bad things will happen if you sing for others.

She knew the urge to sing would run through his veins. It was as natural as speaking was to humans. Natural, however, did not mean vital; it did not mean necessary. All it really meant was risk. Any time she caught him so much as humming in public she'd pinch his ear until his hum turned to a whine of pain. She'd do it even when his hum was audible only to sirens ears. He didn't always notice when he did that but he learned to pay attention and stop himself.

She rewarded him sometimes when he was especially restrained. She allowed him to sing only when mama sings with him. When she was free in the waves, one of the few memories of Land she permitted herself to keep was the handful of times she and Eddie found themselves a lonely, quiet place where they could sing along to a battered old radio together.

Don't go near anyone who is bleeding. Do you hear me? Never get near human blood. Oh, and don't eat fish.

The teeth were a surprise. Her baby was born as toothless as a human. His teeth later sprouted as dull as human teeth. But then her captor hit her on a day that she was already on a knife's edge and Eddie was squirming and grumbling in her arms. She raked her claws across the man's face and as he screamed at her, her little Eddie gnawed at her bloodied claws with little gurgling growls, his small teeth pricked at her fingertips, sharp as any of her kind. It took a while for her boy's teeth to blunt again. The only other time his teeth sharpened was when the man brought home cheap, stinking sushi. To mock her, probably, as if such food could compare to the relish of tearing her teeth through the belly of a writhing living fish.

She did not punish Eddie for this rule. She could not bring herself to punish him for his hunger. No one can help their hunger. She lied instead. Told him he would sicken and die if he ate fish or touched another human's blood.

--

Eddie loved his mama. He cried for ages and ages when she disappeared. Mostly because he missed her. Partly because with her gone, he'd never be allowed to sing again.

As Eddie grew older, he learned to hate his father. His mother had been violent with him on occasion but her violence felt different. When his father hit him, something in Eddie thrashed in indignation that someone like his father would dare strike him. But that thrashing thing in him was the same thing that urged him to the water, that urged him to sing, that craved to slurp up the flickering fish he'd seen during the school field trip to the aquarium. The thrashing thing that wanted to bite and tear into the man that hurt him was the same thing that wanted to do all the things his mama taught him not to do because bad things would happen if he did.

So he tied down the thrashing thing in him because his mama would have wanted him to, he thought. Instead he did what his father told him to do; learned some of the things his father wanted him to; did his best not to incur his anger. It worked for a few years. But there came a day when the thrashing thing escaped for just a moment, a scant few seconds, and drew his father's blood. The smell of it made the thrashing thing in Eddie so very hungry. He learned the thrashing thing was also a starved thing, and it terrified Eddie.

Eddie learned young to run when scared.

So he ran. He ran to the man that his father ranted about; the man his father screamed was the reason his whore of a mother was gone. The man his father had called a traitor of a brother.

--

Wayne opened the door to his trailer one stormy evening to find a boy, barely in double digits, with sharpened teeth and reddened claws. The boy shivered in rain, though Wayne knew immediately that it was not from the cold or wet. He looked into the boy's wide panicked eyes, dark as his mother’s had been.

"Unc-," the boy hiccuped in distress. "Uncle Wayne? 'm Eddie. Y-you knew my mama? You h-helped her?"

"Yeah. Yeah, kid," Wayne said softly, taking in Eddie's dripping hair and bare feet. His toes were pale but not blue as they should be with how cold the rain was in the fall. "I helped her once. Should've helped her sooner. But I worked up the nerve eventually."

"Could you," Eddie's voice cracked. "Could you help me, too?"

"Yeah," Wayne said around a lump in his throat. "Yeah, Eddie, I'll help ya." He clears his throat. "Come in out of the rain. I need to ask you some questions so I can help you."

--

Eddie told Uncle Wayne about his mama's rules. He told Uncle Wayne about the thrashing starved thing that lived in him. He told him how he clawed his father and the thing wanted to devour him. He told him how it scared him so much he ran without looking back.

Uncle Wayne said that the rules his mama gave him were very important but that maybe it made the thrashing thing worse. He told Eddie that they should find ways to keep it calm without breaking his mama's rules. Eddie was not allowed to go into lakes or rivers or ponds but once in a while Eddie could take a bath in the old stained tub Uncle Wayne had in the trailer. It's not exactly what the thrashing thing wants, but when Eddie lays at the bottom of the full tub, it gets quiet for a while. 

(Wayne was relieved to see that even submerged in the bathtub, Eddie still looked human. He was relieved that Eddie didn’t seem to notice that he was able to stay under the water and not worry about being able to breathe).

Eddie must never sing. Ever. But Uncle Wayne thought music in general was good. He gave Eddie his old acoustic guitar. Eddie learned the few chords Uncle Wayne knew, and learned more from secondhand music books his uncle gave him. He had Uncle Wayne's permission to play the guitar whenever the urge to sing felt overwhelming. It wasn’t the same, but it still helped soothe the thrashing thing.

(Wayne was relieved to find that the one time Eddie slipped up, his voice didn’t affect him the way he dreaded it would. Blood recognizes blood, he remembered Eddie’s mother saying. The song still fogged his mind and that by itself scared Eddie enough that he never sang in front of Wayne again. Wayne doesn’t think Eddie fully understood what happened other than it was something bad that came from his singing, just as his mother had told him.)

Uncle Wayne said there’s no way around Mama’s last rule. Eddie must avoid blood and fish. However, Uncle Wayne added an excessive amount of red meat to Eddie’s diet. There was always plenty of pork and beef for Eddie to eat. The thrashing thing in Eddie was always full, even if it never felt quite satisfied.

It wasn’t until he was older that Eddie discovered something that makes the thrashing thing…sleep? Sleep. If only for a little while; just long enough for Eddie to get his head straight.

“Weed?” Uncle Wayne said around a cigarette. “What’s wrong with a good old fashioned cigarette?”

Eddie breathed out a plume of smoke. “Tastes bad.”

Uncle Wayne scoffed. “And marijuana doesn’t?”

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know. It’s different. It feels…like I'm grounded?”

“Thought the goal was to get high,” Uncle Wayne snorted in amusement.

Eddie giggled. “No, yeah. ‘M not saying it right. It feels like…it sounds stupid. Doesn’t make sense. But it feels like Land.”

Uncle Wayne sombered. “That makes perfect sense,” he said after a long pause.

“...is this a mom thing?” At Uncle Wayne’s nod, Eddie frowned. “Are you ever gonna tell me anything about her? I don’t even know her name.”

“Neither do I,” Uncle Wayne said. “Your father called her Sarah. She hated it but she never told either of us her name. Said we’d never be able to pronounce it with our weak tongues.”

–

It wasn’t a lie when Wayne told his boy that he doesn’t know much about his mother. He doesn’t know anything about her, really, but he suspected quite a bit. 

His brother brought her home after a fishing trip. She was…strange. Her eyes seemed too big and fathomless for her pale face. Her body moved as if it was expecting to meet resistance with every motion. When she spoke, her words seemed almost lyrical. 

His brother would beat her terribly if she strayed too close to singing. The fury in her eyes after each beating made icy fear bloom in Wayne’s chest, and to this day he doesn’t understand how his brother never seemed to feel it; the fear of a prey animal that knew the only thing keeping the predator from ripping into them was a set of bars that seemed too narrow to last.

Wayne doesn’t know anything about Eddie’s mother except that his brother named her Sarah and once, during a drunken rant, called her a siren. But sirens were a fisherman’s fairy tale. They weren’t real. Eddie had imagination enough without Wayne filling it with his brother’s tall tales.

–

Eddie hissed as Uncle Wayne dabbed antiseptic on the cut across his cheekbone. The thrashing thing in him echoed the hiss in fury. Eddie squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to keep the fury from bleeding into the rest of him.

“I could’ve beaten them, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie snarls. “I know I could’ve. Why can’t I hit back?”

“...do you remember the last time you hit someone?”

Eddie scrunched his face. “Not really. Was that when I ran away from Dad? I was, like, ten. I can’t remember stuff that far back.”

“It wasn’t that long ago,” Uncle Wayne huffed, and placed some gauze on the cut. “Doesn’t matter. You can’t risk touching someone’s blood. Mama’s rules, remember?”

Eddie growled. The thrashing thing in him roiled. “I hate those stupid rules. I hate them.”

“I know you do,” Uncle Wayne sighed. “But I’m proud of you for following them.” He ruffled Eddie’s hair and Eddie felt the fury start to fade. “Why don’t you go practice on your new guitar for a while?”

Eddie nodded and hopped off the stool, relenting. 

“Love you, kid,” Uncle Wayne calls as Eddie closed his bedroom door.

“Love you too, old man.”

–

Eddie had years of experience controlling the thrashing thing and it had been much easier to keep it calm once he joined a band as the lead guitarist. He made time to take long baths whenever he started to feel agitated with life. He still ate a hellish amount of red meat.

Eddie could almost forget the thrashing thing existed most of the time. Things were good.

Until he met Steve Harrington and his veins were almost violently flooded with wantwantwant and the thrashing thing screamed at him to open up and sing, sing, bring him near, SING. 

His mouth was already dropping open and a sound was clawing to escape his throat. In the panic that followed the wave of covetous desire, Eddie sunk his teeth into his own forearm to stave off the sudden song pooling in his mouth. He  fled the store and ran in to the abandoned alley two blocks away. 

Only then did he unhook his teeth, which felt so odd in his mouth, from where he bit into his arm. He panted around the blood dripping from his lips. “What the fuck. What the fuck was that?”

[creaturefeaster]

when mimes lose their hemolyph, are they able to eventually regenerate/restore it, or is it just gone forever?

Gone forever. They have a finite amount, and one could compare the amount they have to a health bar with no source of replenishment.

[undertheknightwing]

The fact that Jon and Jordan accepted the fact that they were aliens after one afternoon and they never mention it again is so disappointing

Having them be shocked at first then a little unnerved by the reveal for a few episodes would have been interesting, and could have resulted in situations like Jon entering the school and awkwardly greeting "Hello fellow humans!" because he can not wrap his brain around what his true identity is and trying to make it humorous to help him cope or he'll have a full breakdown

Jordan tries to ignore the fact but really can't because he has powers and anything space/alien related instantly makes Jon extremely uncomfortable

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

ok genshin spoilers but:

did they really have to make the inside of the huge ruin guard in the latest Sumeru quest tilted on its side because oh my goodness it’s making me dizzy ;-;;;

[imreallyloveleee]

bit of an update on me in the tags if you're interested

[bookwyrminspiration]

!!! hey!!! I know that fic!! shaking and vibrating and shaking and summer your comments were so so sweet and such a delight to see in my email after doing Home Work (I made A Box, but it's a Me Box--and in the process found a photo of my dad with a mullet as a kid)

I will start getting caught up on your fic Tomorrow I'm going to do it I pinky promise it's gonna happen okay? but also i'm glad you're enjoying the wings au I have. so many thoughts and feelings about it

[donuts4evry1]

If I were to get a jellyfish, tbh I'd want to get one of the hurty species because I think they are cute and also... Idk maybe get stung by them? See how it goes?

I've never been stung by a jelly before and I think I should probably get on that. Just so I know how it feels.

[dravidious]

You're more amazing than 3D models

I haven't made any 3D models in months, but I have made 3 Differentcolorsofcommoncards! Here's the greens

I renamed a few that I showed previously because I think I've figured out the flavor I want to go with. Still placeholder names obviously, but slightly more fitting placeholder names

[leeloooonfire]

Steve Harrington only wears a bra.

Well, not, only, he's also wearing bright orange swim shorts and a cap backward, too.

The top part, however? Hairy man boobs are prettily covered by a black lace bra with a sparkling strass stone in the middle.

Eddie might be a teeny tiny bit drunk (2 beers after months of abstinence and medication does that to a man), but not drunk enought to imagine Steve Harrington in a bra.

'Uh-', he says eloquently and tries not to stare too much at the other man sitting on what must be Buckley's bed. 'Am I interrupting something?'

Steve, face almost as pink as Erica's favourite shoes, opens his mouth to reply, but Robin, sitting crosslegged in front of him, is faster, 'Oh its just you. Close the door, Eds.'

Eddie isn't sure if she means 'close the door and leave, never talk to us about whatever weird kinky little thing we're doing right now' or 'come in, close the door and shut up'. He hesitates for a moment, studying Steve's pretty flushed face and Robin’s wiggling eyebrows before stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

His hand is still on the door knob when he turns and finds Robin leaning against Steve’s hairy chest, one of her arms behind his back. She's fumbling with something, frustrated noises escape her closed lips while Steve simply sits still - like a statue. An Adonis statue wearing a bra.

'Fuck', Robin groans loudly, her forehead knocking against Steve's clavicle, his hand patting her head in condolence.

'Not to be judgmental', Eddie starts slowly as he leans against the book case right next to the door, 'But what are you guys doing?'

(Eddie thought Robin's a friend of Dorothy, so why is Steve fucking Harrington sitting dolled up in a delicate bra on her bed and they look like they're ready to make out?!)

When both Steve and Robin send him evil twin looks, he holds both his hands up in surrender, 'Like I said, not gonna judge you, whatever floats your boat or whatever, but what, exactly, is it that you're trying to do here?'

'Practice', Robin grumbles against Steve's chest, tugging behind his back again.

Steve grins, a bit lopsided and goofy, 'She's trying to open the bra with one hand.'

'It's just so much easier on myself,' she says, and now that Eddie knows what's happening, he can make out her hand tugging and fumbling with the hooks behind Steve's back.

'Ah,' Eddie says, again, rather eloquently. 'I should probably leave you to it, then.'

Before he can turn and go, however, Steve says, 'I heard that you're pretty good with your hands, Munson. Bet you can get it off me in no time.'

'Pfff- ' Robin makes, rolling her eyes, 'I wouldn't be so sure he's ever had a bra in his hands.'

And while Robin has flocked him as a raging homosexual as it seems, Eddie heard the rumours about him too: fingers dancing over his guitar, rolling the perfect joints, Eddie the freak Munson knows how to work his fingers. he doesn't hate this rumour at all. It's kind of nice - for his ego and all.

Yes, he hasn't opened a bra before, but he's met this hot goth dude in a corset before, and that's basically a bra with dozens of hooks. He is fairly sure he can open it with one hand and without looking. What he probably shouldn't do is coming too close to Steve Harrington, the man he's had a crush on since they survived the Upside Down together. Not with his naked skin and hairy chest and dark brown nipple peaking through the black lace of the undergarment.

But both Robin and Steve stare at him and Eddie doesn't run anymore - a challenge is a challenge.

'No problem,' he says far more confident than he actually feels and steps closer, one knee on the bed before Robin's even all out of the way.

'No looking,' she says as if she's explaining the rules to a game, 'chest to chest or face in his neck, but you can only use one hand and your eyes have to stay either closed or on him. Seriously no peeking.'

She shuffles out the way to make room for Eddie between Steve's long, also very naked, legs and Eddie swallows quietly before leaning closer.

Steve smells like sunscreen and grass, a bit like the pineapple they ate earlier before the kids left, and sweat. He smells devine and before Eddie can think clearly, he presses his face into Steve's neck. He feels Steve shudder when his damp lips accidentally meet his sun kissed skin and Eddie feels like he's going crazy. What is he doing? Why is he doing it? Even the slightest touch sends shockwaves through his body. God, he's gone so bad for Steve Harrington.

'Ready?' Robin asks, apparently unaware of Eddie's dilemma or the way Steve's pulse is fluttering like a hummingbird right against Eddie's nose. 'Go!'

He sneaks his right arm around Steve, who jumps slightly the moment Eddie's fingertips brush against his shoulder blades. To keep him still, Eddie's left hand reaches for Steve's waist almost automatically. He doesn't try to focus too much on the way goosebumps spread under his fingers and the way Steve literally whines into Eddie's ear. His right hand follows the scratchy lace, nails lightly scratching Steve's skin, until he finds the hooks.

Thumb under the fabric and pointer and middle finger pressing against it, he feels the first hook opening after less than a heartbeat. For a moment, Eddie doesn't want to open the other two and therefore lose any reason to be so close to Steve.

Steve, who has his nose pressed against Eddie's hair and hand curled into Eddie's shirt, slightly tugging as if .... Well, as if to ask for permission to take it off. Eddie doesn't even know when he had the time to grab for the shirt in the first place.

Eddie moves his hand and the second hook opens. He turns his face, brings a bit more space between them to look at Steve. His cheeks are scarlet, lips shiney with spit and when he opens his eyes after mere seconds of Eddie staring at him, he can see that Steve's pupils are dilated, eyes dark with want.

The last hook springs free and without turning his eyes away, Eddie gently brushes the strap off Steve's broad shoulder. Steve quietly whimpers and pushes harder against Eddie's shirt as if to tear it off his body.

'Eddie', he whispers, licking his lips and Eddie just wants everything Steve is ready to offer.

'Ohhh okay, I think I'll leave you two alone', he hears the slightly panicked voice of Robin and then a door opening and closing.

And Eddie leans in...

[dcxdpdabbles]

For Danny, gravity is a suggestion, but when he's human he prefers to feel ground under his feet while he's thinking. This leads to him often not realising he's started walking on the wall or ceiling when he's lost in thought or otherwise distracted.

Tim's definitely normal human friend Danny, pacing on the ceiling during his third visit at Wayne manor: [ranting about something, probably defending his love of weird flavour combo milkshakes]

The Batfam, silently debating how they're gonna break it to Danny that he's a meta: ........

Tim's eyes follow Danny as he starts pacing around the table, his homework abandoned on the table. His voice is becoming sharper, and his words are strung together more as he continues. He noticed that he became less aware of his surroundings when his friend started going on his rants.

Watching Danny's body language become slightly less human was fascinating. It started with his eyes—if Danny felt angry, they would glow green. Tim always knew when to cut back on his teasing whenever he saw the flash of green, no matter how brief the green was.

When Danny rants about something that upsets or makes him sad, his voice gains a particular echo. It is almost as if he is slowly walking into a cave.

There were times when Danny got excited or happy; his hair would start to puff up slightly. This reminded Tim of when he would rub a balloon on his hair to study the positive and negative charges.

Danny's hair didn't flout straight up, but it was electric enough to be noticeable if you paid enough attention.

It was as if his emotions affected his physical form like a mood ring. Tim could always tell what Danny felt by watching for the little effects.

All these little things were easy to hide. Most people noticed less than Tim did, but there was one little quirk Danny did that was rather hard to miss.

"What if we talked about the effect of well-lit street lights on crime rates?" Danny asked, striding up to a wall and casually pacing on it. He continued to think out loud, with his eyes closed, as he made loops on the ceiling. Tim needed to pay more attention to the subject of their presentation, but he was somewhat distracted by how Danny's hair and shirt defied gravity.

They stayed perfectly in place as if his friend were still on the ground and not upside down. Tim wondered if his powers were less flying and more gravity-shifting.

It would also explain his lower degree of super strength if he could manipulate gravity. (Tim didn't care what Danny claimed in gym class. No regular human could lift two punching bags like nothing, especially for something as casual as cleaning up)

Or maybe he was able to move in a fifth direction. From his perspective, while Tim was stuck in 3D, Danny could move in the fourth and walk on the ground. It would explain why he didn't notice he had stepped on the walls or ceiling. To Danny, he never left the floor.

"No, that wouldn't work," Danny mutters, making loops around the chandelier. "What if we...but then that would mean...."

Tim couldn't make out most of his words, but that was fine. Danny also tended to mutter under his breath when he was deep in thought.

He cranks his neck back, eyes tracing the way Danny seemed to strut around as if he was out for a walk on a nice sunny day in the park. Carefully, making sure Danny was too distracted by his thoughts, Tim aimed his camera phone at him.

He takes a few photos and then opens the family group chat.

Tim: I need advice on gently telling a friend something that may change our friendship. I've tried to say it to him before but he doesn't seem to get it.

Jason: buy him some flowers and write him a poem. He'll love it.

Steph: That's terrible advice, Jay. No one does that anymore

Jason: No one has class anymore, you mean. Besides, boys deserve to be romanced, too.

Dick: Just tell him how you feel, Tim! Be direct and make sure you use the words "I like you romanticly." Sometimes people don't understand you're asking them out.

Damian: Do not bother me with your failed courtships.

Duke: Maybe don't go as far as Jay said, but Dick's right. You have to say, "Go on a date with me" or something.

Steph: Try the bend and snap! It's Elle Woods-approved!

Tim: No, that's not what this is about. I need help telling Danny he might be a metahuman with Superman-level Power.

There is a long pause before his phone vibrates again.

Damian: I beg your finest pardon?

Bruce is typing.....

Tim: He's friendly! He just has yet to notice that what he does isn't regular.

Jason: Wait, isn't Danny that kid we saw you at the ice ring with? The one that snuck up on Cass by accident?

Tim: Yes

Multiple people are typing.....

Tim briefly glances up to see what Danny is up to, and he is surprised that Frost has started developing in his footsteps. That's certainly new. He attached the photos to the chat, sending them off as Danny slowly floated back down.

He watches as his friend flips horizontally in mid-air so that he's standing upright when he lands. His hair is starting to puff up again, so he is not surprised when Danny's eyes snap open with a gleeful glint in them.

"I figured it out, Tim!"

"That's great," Tim tells him with a smile as Danny eagerly returns to his seat. He is babbling about the solution to their government class and how he knows he can get their proposed bill passed with the correct narrative.

Tim watches frost develop around his pencil and chair. Fascinating. Does that mean excitement? He almost forgets about the family group chat while attempting to figure out what emotion Danny is experiencing to connect to frost that he missed a few messages.

Bruce: Tim, where are you?

Bruce: he made Cass jump because she didn't hear or see him coming. That's worrisome.

Bruce: He could be dangerous

Bruce: Where are you

Bruce: Tim, answer me

Bruce: Timothy Jackson Drake, answer the phone right now

Dick: Oooooohhhh middle name

Damian: They are in the left-wing dining room, Father. I already have a visual on them.

Damian sent a photo of two teenage boys sitting at a table, bending over to look at a book together. Papers and pencils are scattered around the stranger while Tim's trusted laptop is in front of his part.

Bruce: Good. Keep them in sight at all times and report any suspicious behavior.

Damian: Naturally.

Steph: No DNA test is needed

Duke: Literally.

Cass: I am confused. I thought we all knew Tim's boyfriend was not human?

Jason: We did not, in fact, know that Cass.

Cass: It is obvious by the way he moves that Danny is not a meta-human. He is close to one, but he moves like a different being. He reminds me of Captain Marvel.

Multiple people are typing......

[harunayuuka2060]

Jack: I didn't expect the Prefect to be so fit.

Epel: Huh? Why?

Jack: I mean, I've never seen them do exercise.

Jack: And whenever I invite them, they always decline.

Ace: Probably because they're tired of doing all the work around here.

Epel: Huh? Do they still work as a janitor?

Deuce: No. But there are tons of errands they have to do.

Ace: Professor Crewel's, Professor Trein's, Professor Vargas's, and to top them all, Headmage Crowley's countless orders.

Jack and Epel: ...

Deuce: Honestly, I heard some of our classmates calling them 'The Great Prefect'.

Jack: ...

Jack: They should take some rest.

Ace: Oh, they do that.

Jack: Huh?

Deuce: Look over there.

MC: *is hanging upside down from a tree branch, like a sleeping bat*

Jack and Epel: ...

Epel: Wow.

[cetitan]

This show is so boring man. What's the most crazy sexual thing I can think of? Probably a pink dildo with little balls... yaoi paddle... leather chest harness that's on backwards and upside down (but it's drawn correctly on the gimp for some reason)... noseband muzzle on the top (why)... and they're doing Doggy Style. For a show set in Hell it really makes a lot of truly juvenile attempts to Shock the audience. They should be pissing or shitting in each other's mouths or something. This is a show for Owl House adults in their 20s who start laughing when they reach the back wall of a Spencer's, out of irony and repressed nervousness

[inkskinned]

crying because i call myself my dog's mom but i'm probably more like a sister to him and the way i love people is always spilling out over my hands in milk so yes i got told a lot you try too hard as a kid and i didn't know what that meant i just try to shove everything i care about under my wing and hold it there so every feather acts as an umbrella and if you're normal that's okay they'll say you're kind but if you're not normal it is a problem and someone who says they're an empath watched me fall down on the train and refused to give me the hand up

and yeah maybe i'm kind of bitter because every time i try to open up i only get to the bones of the thing before someone else takes up the whole room with meat and gristle and sparknotes of their own life painted in a pelt across my palms and just as i'm tryna clean up one mess another seems to pop up and it's really difficult to explain to your therapist that the problem is that you are too aware of the problem and that you keep fucking up and it's really difficult to explain to your partner i have no faith in the concept of love and life is a lot of sliding down these days, turn my body ice and moth, and that's okay! i am broken upside down like an egg and i am going to love you like an explosion and a star and a fucking galaxy! i'm gonna be too much

because god forbid you feel like me! god forbid you know what it's like! holy shit, god forbid. i'm gonna love you because i didn't get love. i'm gonna love you because otherwise the world is too cruel. i only live in the dark. maybe i'm a martyr. i think it's more like - i need to be right about this, about hope and trying and community. i'm going to be right about this, even if i need to set myself on fire to procure the warmth. come take it then, come latch on. i need you to be okay so someone is okay. so there's a reason i was born. i need it to work. i need to be shelter. a lighthouse. endlessly giving more.

i need to be. holy shit, god forbid. i can't live in a world that's only storm.