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#i just need to rot
bloodystray · 3 months
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furiosophie · 9 months
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jewreallythinkthat · 2 months
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Something I really don't understand is this obsession the anti-Israel crowd (in the West) have with death and martyrdom. All they care about is dying, and often killing for their cause; I see nothing about building a better future that isn't based on the murder of 9 million Israelis.
It's easy to die for a cause. The challenge is living to make a better tomorrow.
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macksartblock · 8 months
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they hate each other. they've been roommates for thousands of years. they'd kill one another for the opportunity to talk to someone new.
close ups below - back to your regularly scheduled program soon
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falmerbrook · 17 days
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Oblivion has the weirdest aesthetic choices going on. Everything is super bright and saturated, the characters look silly and almost bordering on cartoonish, and the voice acting and delivery tends to be pretty silly. The whole things has such a strong classic fantasy vibe compared to the other tes games, but also there's a bunch of realistic gore and rotting corpses and really dark questlines with gross visuals (for the quality of those visuals). it's such a weird game.
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aflockofravens · 1 month
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I read something about Suguru's power (attracting curses, ingesting and consuming them; literally making them a part of himself) being the opposite of Satoru's power (repelling things, never allowing anything to touch him) and I've felt sick ever since.
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Part 2. This time its the Tokyo Five (As I named them) Headcanons in the reblog tags appreciated
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starry-bi-sky · 3 months
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fast food is the best course of action after causing a scene. ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀɴʏᴀʟ ᴀʟ ɢʜᴜʟ ᴀᴜ
(First Post Here and Second Post Here
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Danny finds Sam easily.
She's right where she said she was over the phone: standing outside on a balcony, in Gotham, at Father's many charity functions. 
("Would you still be willing to fly over to Gotham, Danny?" She asks, her voice ringing clear through the speakers. Danny is already climbing out his window before she even finishes her sentence. He was just about to settle down for the night, his ghosts would know better by now than to disturb him at this time. The Box Ghost not included.)
("Of course." He says, sounding more confident than he feels. Sam was one of his best— closest friends, he would do anything she or Tucker asked. Even if it means stepping foot into his Father's city. He drops down silently, and walks through the house's ghost shield. "Would you like me to bring you anything?")
(Sam sighs through the phone, relief leaking through. "One of the veggie burgers from Nasty Burgers would be great, with their new ecto-fries. Extra salt. I'm sick of all this rich people food.")
(A small smile pulls across Danny's face, tilting at the corner as his living form falls away to his ghost self. "Alright," he says, and kicks himself off the ground, "I'll be there in a few minutes.")
("Thanks, Danny.")
He had the bag of food with him, stored in a container he had to run back to the house to get that would prevent the food from cooling during his flight over. Clutching it in hand, he floats down behind Sam and sheds his invisibility.
Being visible and being invisible always felt different, but in a way Danny can never describe, no matter how many times he tries to think about it. It's like a gut-feeling, a sixth sense, he always knows when he's visible and when he is not.
His ghost form burns away like steel wool being lit, and Danny drops the last foot to the ground silently. In his other hand lies his thermos, but filled with plain ectoplasm — lazarus water. "I have your food." 
(He brought the thermos for himself — his side was still healing from his last fight with Technus. The ghost impaled him with a broken pipe, and Danny returned the favor by wedging his sword into his chest. Technus had been quite offended by him ruining his favorite coat.)
Sam jumps a foot into the air, and her hand slams across her mouth to muffle the shriek she lets out as she whirls around. "Danny!" She hisses, her voice rising in pitch, and her eyes narrow at him into a glare. "Freaking-- Tucker's right, we seriously need to put a bell on you."
"You have been saying that for years," Danny grins, sharp-toothed and jack-knifed, and passes the container over to her. "And yet I've yet to see any kind of bell." He was going to start getting disappointed at this rate.
As Sam takes the container, Danny hops up onto the railing and looks around. He hadn't seen any of Father's other children lurking around the building before he revealed himself, but that doesn't mean they aren't there. He wasn't going to fool himself into thinking that their stealth skills were poor.
He wasn't that arrogant.
...Anymore.
"Oh you will." Sam threatens, unzipping the container and grabbing the takeout bag. "I'll get you a collar and everything, we can start calling you Catwoman." When she pulls out her fries, Danny snaps forward and steals one from the box, ignoring her indignant yell as he pops it into his mouth.
"I spent my own money on these fries, Sam." He sniffs, leaning away from her with a stifled huff of laughter as she swats at him. "So they are technically my fries. And also, Catwoman would be a poor thief if she wore a bell."
Sam grumbles at him, and takes a bite out of a handful of fries. "I'll venmo you money." She says past a mouthful of food, Danny would have been disgusted in the past, when he was still new. But he's gotten used to this... normality. So he makes no reaction to it. "How does three hundred bucks sound?"
Danny immediately frowns.
"Did you have a fight with your parents?" He asks, eyes glancing to the doors. Doors that are covered heavily by curtains and blurred heavily, decadent music passing through in muffled sounds. He shifts himself away from the light. "You only spend that much money when they've pissed you off."
Sam's chewing stops, and her annoyed expression falters into one Danny knows well -- hurt, furrowed brows, a small frown, disappointment -- and she turns her head away from him. She swallows. "Yeah." she says, quiet.
Oh.
Danny knows that tone too.
Guilt settles like a rock in his chest. He leans forward, "Was it about me again?" He wasn't blind to the disdain Sam's parents had for him, far from it. This wasn't the first time Sam had gotten into a fight with them over her friendship with him and Tucker. But especially him. He unsettled people, even after years of observing his age-mates and trying to mimic their behavior, and anyone who knew him in middle school knew it was an act.  
Sam's silence gives him all the confirmation he needs, and the guilt heavies itself with the weight of the sky. Danny's never much cared about others' opinions of him -- he is (was?) an Al Ghul, they never heed to mind what the weight of a simpleton's thoughts.
But.. he cares a little a lot when it hurts his friends like this. He presses his lips together into a thin line, and forces the words out through his teeth. It sounds robotic. Al Ghul's do not apologize. "I... am sorry." But this one does. It doesn’t come easy. 
Sam sighs through her nose, and turns to roll her eyes at him. "Don't apologize on their behalf when you won't even apologize for your own; their assholes." She says, and goes reaching for more fries.
It's a sign, a signal. A silent word for the conversation to move on, to change. A distraction. Danny grasps it with both hands, and makes an offended noise in the back of his throat. And like he has learned, puts a hand to his chest like a scandalized American southern lady. "I apologize! I apologize plenty."
She snorts. "Only when you think it matters." And pokes him in the ribs sharply with her fry. He withholds a wince and snatches it out of her hands. "You're about as unapologetic as they come, Danny J. Fenton. I've seen you look more sincere when you're trying to drive your sword between Vlad's ribs."
"Stabbing Masters is a very important task for me, Sam." Danny says in only partially faux-seriousness. Masters has yet to realize that Danny had no interest in becoming his son, but he had to (reluctantly) admire his persistence. "Of course I will apply myself to it as best as I can."
He grins triumphantly when Sam laughs, and she reaches over to shove him square in the chest. He barks out a laugh of his own as he grips onto the balcony railing and catches himself at an angle.
"Quit with your method actor talk," Sam retorts, grinning sharply while Danny twists himself back up elegantly. "I know you can talk like a normal person, I've literally seen you do it."
Danny sniffs, and snatches more fries from the carton as revenge. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean, Miss Sam." He says, grin-twisting when Sam rolls her eyes. "My speech has always been this way. This 'normal' you speak of, I do not know it."
She waves her hand dismissively at him. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. But if you keep talking like that, I'm pushing you off the balcony."
"Such violence, Sam."
He gets a laugh again, full of disbelief without any of the annoyance. "I'm gonna be the one that stabs you, oh my god. Pot meet kettle." She looks at him again, smiling.
Danny smiles back, and with a flick of his wrist pulls out a kunai from his sleeve. It was one of the few weapons Mother was able to pass on to him whenever she made her scarce visits. He cherishes it well, along with anything else she was capable of giving him. 
He holds the handle out to her, and watches her face shift from disbelief to shock, then back to disbelief. "Then you're gonna need a weapon to do that." 
"Of course you have a pointy object on you." She mutters, and takes the kunai and puts it in her purse. Danny makes a pleased hum, it resonates low in his core, and drops his hand. "When do you not have a pointy object on you?"
As if to make her point, Danny's hands twist near his side, and he holds his palms up to her, revealing the shobo he had also hidden on him. He gives her a shit-eating grin. "Never." He lowers his hand, and pockets the small weapon once again. 
Sam huffs, "Of course," she repeats, "thanks. I was gonna bring a knife but..."
Danny finishes the sentence for her, kicking his feet idly and knowingly. "The security at the door?" He'd seen them on his flight over the building. It wouldn't do much in the face of the Rogues, but at least they were good at keeping appearances and keeping out the smaller threats.
He rolls his eyes and turns his head away, looking up to the ugly, smog-covered skies. There was no bat signal in the air, and while that was a good thing, Danny almost wished there was. He wanted to see it. "I saw, and I would’ve called Father foolish if he hadn’t hired help. He attracts trouble almost as badly as I do."
"Maybe it's hereditary," Sam jokes, laughing under her breath. With her fries finished, she started on her veggie burger. "At least your dad isn't a vigilante like you are."
Danny smiles wryly. It felt nice to be able to talk more freely about this. That he didn't have to hide the fact that his father was Bruce Wayne, now that Sam knew it from her own accord. Maybe he could have conversations like these more often. Even if it was limited to Bruce Wayne only.
(Even if it felt a little terrifying to know that his father was so close by, close enough that Danny could reach out and touch him. To speak to him. But how would he explain that? And with an audience?)
(He’s wanted to see him since he was a kid, and he still does. It clings onto him like a cough that doesn’t go away after the cold already has, and while it has faded over the years, it clings. His mother’s words still ring in his ears however; it’s not safe. It’s not safe.)
(And isn’t that why he faked his death in the first place? So that his little brother would be safe? Why he gave up the heirship, his home, his Mother, Damian, and his chance to meet his Father? Going to see Father, even now, would be throwing that all away. He has to stay away.)
(Why is Damian with Father if staying with Father was unsafe?) 
He just needed to tell Tucker. Danny wouldn’t keep him out of the loop, he was just as much as his friend as Sam was. His eyes draw towards the door, where the golden glow of lights was still pouring through, where music was playing loudly. "Yeah, fortunately." 
They fall into a comfortable silence after that, and Danny finally cracks open his thermos. The pipe Technus impaled him with was covered in a goo that Danny didn’t recognize, but whatever it was, his injury was taking its time healing. The ectoplasm was speeding it up. 
He isn’t sure what the difference between the ectoplasm that Drs. Fenton collected and Grandfather’s Lazarus pools is, but there’s a difference. He swirls the thermos slowly, watching as the ectoplasm inside twists into a small whirlpool sluggishly. 
When left alone, it thickens into a consistency similar to egg whites, or perhaps a thick smoothie, but reverts back into a water-like substance when moved and swirled. It was strange; unexplainable. He can understand, to an extent, why the Drs. Fenton are so obsessed with studying it and the dimension it comes from. 
Sam watches him idly as he brings the thermos to his lips and drinks from it. The effect is instantaneous, a sense of relief washing over Danny as if someone had put a soothing balm onto an injury. It buzzes down to his fingertips, and when he lowers the thermos, he licks his lips and watches the tips of his fingers burn green like frostbite. 
“Your hair turned white again.” Sam comments, her hand reaching out and touching the hair on the nape of his neck. While it’s not the first time Sam’s touched his hair, it still makes him tense up with her hand so close to his throat. Instinct. dan
He ignores the urge to bat her hand away, humming thoughtfully. “I’ve noticed it does that.” He says, pulling down his bangs to see if they’ve also turned white. No, still black. He lets go. “Let me guess; my eyes are green too?” He lifts the thermos again and peers into the chrome casing. 
Sam nods, “Yep, but it’s only the, uh.” She makes a circle around her eyes with her finger. “The iris part. Everything else is fine.” 
Danny can see that. The faint reflection on the chrome casts back an intense green. He takes another sip. It chills the back of his teeth, and he can feel his canines warp and sharpen. He runs his tongue over them, and swallows. 
Sam is still watching him, her fingers drumming against the balcony railing. “What’s it taste like?” 
“Carbonated.” He says dryly, before taking a large swig. He couldn’t name a specific flavor if he tried, it changed every time he took a sip. The only thing that stayed consistent was that it tasted carbonated. And slightly sweet. When he pulls the thermos away, Danny twists his body towards her and offers it out, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Want to try?” 
Her reaction is immediate. Sam’s nose scrunches up and her mouth twists into a smile, and she makes a huffing-laugh sound. “No, thank you.” She pushes it away lightly with her fingers, “I don’t know how to explain to my parents why my hair is white.” 
Right. Danny pulls the thermos away and puts it down beside him, straining his eyes to see if the rest of his hair has changed colors. Even just his first sip would take half an hour to fade back to its normal black, and he was a halfa. He had no idea how long it’d take to fade on Sam, who was human. 
There’s movement from the corner of his eye, and Danny snaps his head towards the source. There’s a figure, small, a boy, trying to hide behind one of the curtains at the door. His form just barely peeking out from the angle Danny was sitting at. He wouldn’t have seen him if the boy hadn’t moved. 
His fingers curl tightly into the railing, and he breathes in sharp. Sam’s smile crumbles away and she turns to see what he’s looking at. “I should go.” He says, and reaches for his thermos. “There’s someone spying on us. Don’t say anything, just look at me.” 
Sam’s expression warps, twists. Her eyes widen, her jaw starts to drop before fixing itself into place, and her shoulders curl up and tense. She forces it all to smooth over, and she leans casually against the railing. There’s a tick in her jaw. “I see.” Her voice comes through teeth. “Do you think they saw you?”
“I am not sure.” Danny says. He keeps an eye on the figure as he twists himself over and grabs the Nasty Burger bag and the container. He tries not to look like he’s rushing. He is. How long has that boy been there? How much did he see? Did he hear anything? 
“Father, fortunately, has privacy films on the glass. Nobody should have seen me unless they’re specifically trying to peep through the door.” He says. The boy seems to realize that Danny was starting to leave. And, his heart beginning to sink, instead of leaving, moves to grab the door handle instead.
No. No, no, no, no, no.
Danny’s breath catches in his throat, he’s hoping that isn’t who he think it is. But how else would he have not noticed an eavesdropper on their conversation unless it was someone who was capable of bypassing those skills? He told himself that he wouldn’t fool himself into thinking that his siblings’ had poor stealth. He got distracted. 
Five years, five years. He refuses to let that go down the drain. He zips up the container and throws his legs over the other side of the railing, his back facing the door. He hears the doorknob click, and without a word to Sam, slips off down the side and down to the ground below.
Just in time. The once muffled music now sounds blaring as the door presumably is thrown open and the pull of invisibility washes over him like a second skin. He doesn't stay to see who it is.
#dpxdc#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#dpdc#dpxdc crossover#danyal al ghul au#older brother danny#first danny pov of the au! whoo!#danny's hair turns white if he drinks ectoplasm brrrrr and his eyes turn green. good for him#this sat in my drafts for the last few days until i finally finished it during class#it was a math class and i already knew the material so tis fiiiine. now i just need to finish my CFAU post rewrite :)#ectoplasm tastes like that time i went to go get pepsi from the soda machine and it was all out of the pepsi flavoring so instead i got a#cup full of carbonated liquid. it was disgusting. ectoplasm kinda tastes like that. sometimes.#danny smiles in this more than i thought he would but yk it fits. he IS more smiley around his friends and family.#ectoplasm is a weird non-newtonion fluid and danny is fascinated. its got the consistency of egg whites one minute and then water the next#its a water slime and then suddenly its as brittle as annealed glass. it heats up and rots like milk or it heats up and boils like water#it congeals. it thickens. it boils. it solidifies. it does whatever it wants. it gels and melts into a tar-like substance#how long has damian been standing there? good question. :) i almost had him open the door and make eye contact with damian before falling#backwards. i also almost had it be *bruce* and damian opening the door bc bruce found out that damian pulled a knife on sam and was gonna#have him come apologize. that would be a fun scene. prolonged eye contact prolonged eye contact prolonged eye contact#imagery brrrr. had fun playing with how danny's ghost form works. if anyone has seen a video of steel wool burning thats how i imagine#danny's ghost transformation to be like.#also ayyy balancing danny's dialogue be like “how fancy should he sound and how Normal Teenager Should He Sound”#when sam gets home she catches tucker up to speed about everything including the convos with the waynes she had and they both form the#'“Fuck Them Waynes” squad. Sam has jumped to the entirely wrong conclusion about danny's separation from his family but in her defense.#it is a pretty sound conclusion to jump to considering the lack of context she has from danny's prior home life. which is almost none at al#so to her it looks like danny got abandoned by bruce wayne
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icantdothistodaybruh · 4 months
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uselessimpulses · 5 months
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something something plant membranes as clothing so hes n akey
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MC's light isn't supposed to be on this late at night.
Mammon just happened to be walking past Cocytus Hall, definitely not on purpose, after a night out.
He also just happened to glance up at MC's window and saw that the light was still on.
He definitely didn't worry that they'd fallen asleep at their desk, working and would wake up tomorrow with a sore back. It's pure selfish self-preservation over dealing with a grumpy attendant that drives him toward the door.
It's not even locked, what are these two, insane?
Two humans alone in the Devildom who don't even lock the front door, he's going to get Lucifer on them for that later.
He's visited a few times now and follows the light under the door up the stairs until he stands in front of their bedroom door, only to freeze up once he got there.
What the fuck is he doing?
What now, knock? He's already walked into their house without permission, MC's gonna think he's a weirdo, or worse, that he cares!
He debates turning tail, but before he gets the chance, the door creaked open.
MC's the picture of tired, cotton sleep shorts and a lazy tank top, hair a dishevelled mess with blue light glasses tangled among their locks.
The human doesn't look at all surprised to see him there, cradling an empty coffee cup in one hand, leaning heavily on the door as they eye him tiredly,
"What the hell are you doing up?" He blurted before MC could ask what he's doing in their house.
Tired eyes gaze up at him, lazily fishing their glasses out of their hair. "I can't sleep."
Their voice was soft, cracking and lethargic; behind them is desk covered in paperwork lit by a stub of candle, wax built up around it almost spilling out of its tray.
"So you're working?" Mammon gaped, pushing them backward into their room, scooping both the cup and glasses out of their hands. "Z'at supposed to help?"
"No, but I figured I may as well be productive."
"Screw that, you need sleep damnit."
The demon set MC down on their bed, urging them to settle down while he blew out excess candles, submerging the room in almost complete darkness.
"What's keeping you up anyway?"
MC shrugged, cheek buried in the pillow Belphie gave them last week. Mammon can still make out their blank stare, fixed on some far away point, jaw hinged tight.
"Hey...what's keepin' ya up?"
MC sighed, scooting away from the edge of the bed, lifting the covers. "C'mere, please?"
Mammon froze, gulping down nerves as his body practically moved on its own, sinking onto the mattress beside them.
As soon as he was within arms reach, MC cuddled close, tangling their legs together as the buried their nose in his chest, breathing deep before relaxing completely against him.
He hesitated, hands hovering nervously before giving in to the urge to hold them, letting them press to his chest, relishing in the way they relaxed so completely with him.
"Can you stay, please?"
Mammon replied without hesitation, burying his nose in their hair, pressing his lips to the crown of their head. "Long as ya need me, darlin'."
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ineffableteeth · 5 months
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What if the first time Aziraphale sleeps is in Crowleys arms?
Or better yet what if the first time Aziraphale sleeps is with Crowley in his arms?
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furiosophie · 2 years
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He looks back down at the baby – Andy – with her lick of dark hair and her splotchy pink skin. Even though she can’t be more than a month old, probably not even, the resemblance to her father – to Hob’s friend – is already uncanny. She looks imperious, a little disapproving, like she’ll nap in his arms if she has to since she doesn’t want to be rude, but privately she thinks the conditions aren’t quite befitting an infant of her station.
Hob loves her instantly, instinctively, in a way that he thinks is going to be nearly impossible to get over.
real people by spqr (@andthepeople)
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tunapesto · 7 months
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doomed yuri moment
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girlbossblog444 · 1 month
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Fighting urge to run away and start a cult with cannibalistic lesbians
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moonriverrise · 1 year
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Dreams are supposed to be subtle messages from your subconscious, right? Then why the hell did Eddie keep having the same type of dream every single night. The same dream featuring the same boy with chestnut hair, doe eyes, and freckles sprinkled all over.
He didn’t know the boys name, but he’s around Eddie’s age based on looks. His hair is styled in a certain way, swooped to the side almost perfectly. He’s pretty strong looking and pale skinned, and has the most wonderful laugh Eddie has ever heard.
In the dreams that Eddie had, he meets this boy under a tree in a long sunflower field. He’s always there before Eddie, sitting with his back against the trunk of the tree, staring at the sky or simply laying with his eyes shut.
Whenever Eddie came up to him, he was greeted with the same phrase every time, no matter what differences are in the dreams.
“Hello, Sunshine. How are you?”
It's sweet, and it warmed Eddie’s heart in a way he never thought something could. Then Eddie would sit down and they would have conversations about their lives. Because, this boy had a life, probably something Eddie’s brain made up.
“Oh, and Dust thinks he’s so much better than me just because he’s good at Algebra. Who the fuck is good at Algebra?!”
The boy is entertaining, he’s funny, pretty, charismatic. One dream he has, turns a bit different after the greeting, which is said more solemnly. Soon afterwards, the boy asks Eddie something.
“Have you ever kissed a boy before?” He asked. Eddie has paused.
“What do you mean?”
“Uhm…do you ever think you might like boys the way you like girls?” And Eddie had to pause again, because, thats how he had felt. That’s the questions he thought about, the ones he had asked Uncle Wayne.
“All the time.” Eddie responded.
“Is it..normal?” Eddie looked over to the boy, who looks nervous, scared.
“Of course. You can like whoever you want. People who don't think that are stuck up pricks.” Eddie expressed. The boy had laughed, gently. Then laid his head against Eddie’s shoulder, and then shut his eyes.
“I have a friend, you know that one I mentioned, Robbie?” Eddie hummed. “She likes girls, only girls. I want to tell her about this, but I'm afraid. Even though I know she couldn't possibly be mean, I just don't want to be abandoned.” Eddie sighed.
“It’s okay. You just need to take your time with it, talk yourself through it.” Eddie advised.
“Sunshine?”
“Yes?”
“Can I kiss you?” Eddie had paused, once again. He looked over at the boy, who looked up at him in response, through his lashes.
Eddie traced his face with his eyes, placed a gentle hand on his face, rubbed a thumb against the boys skin, who let his eyes blink closed. He leaned into Eddie’s touch, embraced him, his being.
Eddie leaned closer to the boys face. The wind whistled loudly, and birds sang in the background. Eddie let his other hand cup the boys face, and their lips met, slowly.
It was slow, but deep. Gentle, yet hungry. They parted and Eddie stared into the boys eyes, as tears settled in them. A brief flash of panic runs through Eddie’s blood…
The boy laughed, giggled like a birds song. He wiped his eyes and whispered into Eddie’s ear.
“Thank you, for all that you are.”
Eddie’s eyes had fluttered open that morning, and he felt comforted with a sense of kindness and the ghost of tender lips against his own.
Then, Eddie got up, and got dressed, ready to go to work at the cafe down the street from his apartment in Indianapolis.
Dustin walked up to him during his shift, he was wearing a hat from that summer camp he’d gone to a few years back.
“Hey Eddie,” He said.
“Hello, Henderson.” Eddie responded, giving him a look.
“Wow! Don't have to be hostile!” Dustin joked. “You know my buddy i've been meaning to introduce you to?”
“Your babysitter?” Eddie asked while pouring creamer into a cup of coffee.
“Yeah! Steve! He’s here, sitting next to me and Robin over there.” Eddie didn’t follow where he was pointing, instead decided to focus on throwing a portable cup onto the coffee then calling out the order number as he slid it across the counter.
“Alright, hold on dude. Gare! Can you take order for just a second! I'll be back in a minute!” Gareth groaned but begrudgingly walked over to the cash register. “Thank you, I promise to spare your next character in Hellfire.”
“You better, man.” Gareth responded as Eddie walked out to meet Dustin.
They both walked over to the table and Eddie froze entirely when he meets eyes with someone so familiar.
It's the boy from his dreams.
“Okay, Eddie this is Steve. Steve this is Eddie.” Eddie waved a hand in Dustin’s face to shut him up.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” Steve. that was his name. He asked him that, and Eddie nodded slowly.
“I know you from somewhere too,” He responded. Steve’s eyes went a bit wide, and he stood, facing Eddie.
“Sunshine?” Eddie nodded, vigorously.
“Guys…” Eddie shunned Dustin with his hands again.
“Robbie is Robin- the gay friend?” Eddie asked. Steve nodded. “Dust…that’s Henderson?” He nodded again.
“What the hell?-” Robin spoke up. Steve shushed her.
“You look exactly how you did before.” Eddie said to him. Steve smiled.
“You look even brighter in person,”
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