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keebwee · 8 months

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Whumptober Day 2 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1

No. 2: “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.”

Thermometer | Delirium | “They don't care about you.”

Summary: Donatello gets sick in the bad future timeline. He just wants his brother to be there with him. Unfortunately, he isn't.

AO3

CONTENT WARNINGS: PAST SIBLING DEATH, GRIEVING, ILLNESS

fic under the cut

"Donnie, I need you to check up on the A-wing; there's been some kind of—woah, what the hell happened to you? You look like shit." Donnie lazily turned to look at his twin, who stood in his doorway, his massive shadow looming over Donnie. His prosthetic arm—Raph's old prosthetic arm—stood out like a sore thumb.

"Nothing's wrong, Leo," Donnie mumbled. "I'm fine. Just... tired." Yup. Definitely.

"Just tired, my ass," Leo swore. "You look horrible. Are you feeling okay?" He stepped into the room, placing a hand on his hip.

"I said I'm fine. What was it you needed me to do?" Donnie dismissed his concern. Obviously, their base was far more important than how he was feeling. His body could wait.

"I can get someone else to do it." Leo was standing next to Donnie, now. "It's just a simple door malfunction." He lifted his real hand to feel Donnie's forehead and hissed. "You're burning up. We need to get you to medbay."

"No, I'm fine, Nardo," Donnie snapped. "I'll go fix the—the..." He trailed off, suddenly overcome with a powerful wave of dizziness. He swayed, before tilting over the side of his chair and falling.

"Donnie! Shit, shit!" Leo grabbed him just before he could hit the floor. The cool metal of his Raph's prosthetic arm pressed against Donnie's cheek and he sighed. "Oh my god, you're so heavy now. Okay, up we go!" He hoisted the softshell up into his arms, adjusting him so he was carrying him bridal style.

"Put me down..." Donnie groaned.

"Nah." Leo didn't put him down. "We're going to the medbay, where you're gonna sit in bed till you're better. Can't have my favorite twin melting while he tries to fix a door, can I?" Donnie didn't respond. He didn't say anything even when they made it to the medbay, nor when he was tucked into bed after a quick examination by Leo himself.

Eventually, Mikey and April popped into the room. Donnie didn't notice them till Mikey had made his way into his bed and curled up next to him. April took his temperature and got him to begrudgingly accept a damp washcloth for his forehead, despite his distaste for it. He spaced out, setting his chin on Mikey's head as the box turtle nestled into the crest between his chest and neck. At some point, he found himself relaxing and slipping into an uncomfortable sleep.

Donnie wasn't doing well; anyone could see that. His fever had worsened within the past 10 hours he'd been in the medbay, and whenever he was woken up to eat or drink he barely seemed to process it. He'd mumble in his sleep, and Mikey thought he'd even had a few nightmares, based on the whines and jerky movements he'd make every once in a while.

So when he woke up and looked at them, Mikey's eyes lit up with joy.

Until he uttered the most heartbreaking thing he could've said.

"R'ph?"

Mikey's heart sank.

Raph had been dead for two years, now, and Donnie thought he was here. Either that, or he wanted him. Both situations were horrible.

April took the initiative, kneeling down next to Donnie's head and shushing him. "Raph's not here right now, Dee," She said quietly. "It's just us. Me, Mikey, and Leo." Donnie blinked at her tiredly, taking a few moments to process what she'd said.

"Where... is he?" He mumbled. "When—" He was cut off by a harsh coughing fit, prompting Leo to sit him up and rub his shell soothingly. Donnie was so weak he had to lean up against Leo to remain upright. His head sagged forward as he wheezed.

"He's not here." Leo kept rubbing his shell. When the coughing calmed down, Donnie curled into himself and whined. "Hey, hey. It's okay. We've got you."

Mikey scooted closer to Donnie, taking his hand and tracing his fingers with his own in an attempt to calm Donnie down. Maybe himself, too. Not that he'd admit that to anyone here.

"Raph..." Donnie was crying now. "Where is he—I need him! I—" He wheezed again. "Raph—!" He was sobbing.

His family didn't know what to do. It wasn't often anyone saw the softshell cry like this, let alone when he was sick. Sick Donnie and crying Donnie weren't often expressed together.

Suddenly, Donnie turned and latched onto Mikey. His skin was boiling and coated in sweat.

"Woah, woah!" Mikey laughed dryly. "Let's lay back down, Dee." Donnie nodded, sniffling and mumbling quietly. Mikey lowered himself and his older brother back down onto the bed and motioned for either of his siblings to cover the two in the blanket. They did.

Donnie fell asleep soon after, tears still dripping down his face as he slept.

This dance repeated for almost four days. Donnie would wake up, he'd panic and look for his oldest—and, friendly reminder, deceased brother, and then latch onto whoever was closest to him. Usually, that person would be his family, but once or twice it was a nurse who happened to be caring for him while the others slept.

"Donnie, you need to eat something, please." April showed him a tray of food she'd grabbed from their makeshift cafeteria. All it was were crackers, miscellaneous meat jerky, and grits. These were common foods for Donnie. But he refused to eat it. "It doesn't have to be a lot! Even just a single bite."

Donnie shook his head. "My stomach hurts. I'm not hungry."

"Please?" April pleaded.

"...Fine," Donnie replied tiredly. He reached out and grabbed a cracker, taking a small bite and placing the cracker back on the tray. "Did it." He turned over onto his side, nestling his face into his pillow. April sighed and took the tray back, leaving Donnie alone again.

He was still feeling incredibly out of it. The room was always spinning and he constantly felt nauseous. He just wanted to sleep and wake up feeling normal again. He wanted Raph.

Ah. There it was again.

He sniffled, bringing a shaky hand up to his face and wiping away his growing tears. He missed Raph so, so much. When the turtles were kids, they'd get sick every now and then. Raph would always stay with them till they felt better. Donnie wanted that.

Sure, Leo and Mikey were with him a lot, but he knew if Raph were here, the softshell would never be left alone. He wanted his big brother. A sob erupted from him and he shoved his face into his pillow to muffle his cries. His attempt was in vain, because his brothers had just so happened to be walking in.

"Aw... Dee." Donnie heard Mikey say. A hand was placed on the side of his head and he leaned into it. "Your fever's getting better, I think," He mumbled. "You need a hug?" Donnie nodded. Mikey sat on his bed and wrapped an arm around him. His other arm went and grabbed his blanket, pulling it over himself and Donnie like he had so many times already.

"How's he lookin'?" Leo asked Mikey as he scooped up the thermometer and a clean rag.

"His fever's down." Mikey rubbed Donnie's arm as he spoke. "April said he took a bite of a cracker. Is the tray still in here?"

"Yeah, it's right here. The guy took the smallest bite," Leo sighed. "Is he awake?"

"I think." Mikey nudged Donnie and he hissed. "Yup, he's awake."

Leo made his way over with the tray. "Don-Tron, Dee, Donnie."

"What," Donnie mumbled.

"Can you eat a full cracker for me?" Donnie looked at the slider, who's eyes looked broken and tired, with visible bags. He looked exhausted. Maybe he should eat a cracker? No, he's too nauseous.

"You're nauseous probably because you haven't eaten. Just eat one or two," Mikey murmured. Donnie groaned at him before reaching out a hand to grab a cracker. He shoved the whole thing in his mouth, chewed it for a few seconds, and swallowed it whole. His brothers' eyes lit up. Donnie grabbed another and ate it. Leo smiled softly.

Donnie ate just a little bit more before he pushed the tray away and nestled back into his pillow, falling asleep.

#whumptober2023 #no.2 #thermometer #delirium #illness #sibling death #past sibling death #grief/mourning #rottmnt #fic #rottmnt fanfic #rottmnt whumptober #keebwee whumptober #local writes #rottmnt fic #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt leo #rottmnt april

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yeehawpim · 6 months

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#original comic #comic #writing #terry pratchett #thud!#artists on tumblr #my comic #my art #i was honestly so mad at myself when i realized i didnt own a physical copy of thud while i was writing this #i had to buy the ebook to pull that line cuz there werent any available at my library or local bookstores

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magnusbae · 11 months

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To illustrate this post by @mayahawkse I would like to visualize to you the difference:

A post in 2023:

A post in 2014:

A zoom out of the same post:

This is what a community looks like.

See how in 2023 almost all of the reblogs come from the OP, from their few hours/days in the tag search. Meanwhile in 2014 the % of reblogs from OP is insignificant, because most of the reblogs come from the reblogs within the fandom, within the micro-communities formed there. You didn't need to rely on tags, or search, or being featured. Because the community took care of you, made sure to pass the work between themselves and onto their blog and exposed their followers to it. It kept works alive for years.

It's not JUST the reblog/like ratio that causing this issue, it's the type of interaction people have. They're content with scrolling and liking the search engine, instead of actually having a reblogging relationship with other blogs in their community.

Anyways, if you want to see more content you like, the only true way to make it happen is to reblog it. Likes do not forward content in no way but making OP feel nice. Reblogs on the other hand make content eternal. They make it relevant, they make it exist outside of a fickle tumblr search that hardly works on the best of days.

If you want more of something, reblog it.

#i said i wont ever rant about this bc it's unseemly but HONESTLY.#you simply cannot complain about not having enough of A or B or C and then never reblog / interact with the content you love.#If you LOVE something you cannot just leave a like and silently wait for more to happen #I know countless of content creators that simply stopped doing art/writing fic/making edits #You need to understand that fandom content is made FOR the fandom FOR the engagement FOR the entertainment and fun it makes.#If a content creator does not have fun IN the fandom-- why would they spend the scares free time they have on making this content?#And we're not talking about things that you don't like-- no one expects you to reblog things you don't like.#However I think it's safe to say that when a post has more than 5k it's not some random shitpost with no value.#tumblr issues #tumblr #content creators #buns.txt #something something please don't starve your local clowns

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khajiithaswitchywares · 7 months

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Go hiking. Fake your death. Become one with the forest. Elevate to forest god. The simple things.

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inkskinned · 1 year

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for a while i lived in an old house; the kind u.s americans don't often get to live in - living in a really old house here is super expensive. i found out right before i moved out that the house was actually so old that it features in a poem by emily dickinson.

i liked that there were footprints in front of the sink, worn into the hardwood. there were handprints on some of the handrails. we'd find secret marks from other tenants, little hints someone else had lived and died there. and yeah, there was a lot wrong with the house. there are a lot of DIY skills you learn when you are a grad student that cannot afford to pay someone else to do-it-for-ya. i shared the house with 8 others. the house always had this noise to it. sometimes that noise was really fucking awful.

in the mornings though, the sun would slant in thick amber skiens through the windows, and i'd be the first one up. i'd shuffle around, get showered in this tub that was trying to exit through the floor, get my clothes on. i would usually creep around in the kitchen until it was time to start waking everyone else up - some of them required multiple rounds of polite hey man we gotta go knocks. and it felt... outside of time. a loud kind of quiet.

the ghosts of the house always felt like they were humming in a melody just out of reach. i know people say that the witching hour happens in the dark, but i always felt like it occurred somewhere around 6:45 in the morning. like - for literal centuries, somebody stood here and did the dishes. for literal centuries, somebody else has been looking out the window to this tree in our garden. for literal centuries, people have been stubbing their toes and cracking their backs and complaining about the weather. something about that was so... strangely lovely.

i have to be honest. i'm not a history aficionado. i know, i know; it's tragic of me. i usually respond to "this thing is super old" by being like, wow! cool! and moving on. but this house was the first time i felt like the past was standing there. like it was breathing. like someone else was drying their hands with me. playing chess on the sofa. adding honey to their tea.

i grew up in an old town. like, literally, a few miles off of walden pond (as in of the walden). (also, relatedly, don't swim in walden, it's so unbelievably dirty). but my family didn't have "old house" kind of money. we had a barely-standing house from the 70's. history existed kind of... parallel to me. you had to go somewhere to be in history. your school would pack you up on a bus and take you to some "ye olden times" place and you'd see how they used to make glass or whatever, and then you'd go home to your LEDs. most museums were small and closed before 5. you knew history was, like, somewhere, but the only thing that was open was the mcdonalds and the mall.

i remember one of my seventh grade history teachers telling us - some day you'll see how long we've been human for and that thing has been puzzling me. i know the scientific number, technically.

the house had these little scars of use. my floors didn't actually touch the walls; i had to fill them with a stopgap to stop the wind. other people had shoved rags and pieces of newspaper. i know i've lost rings and earring backs down some of the floorboards. i think the raccoons that lived in our basement probably have collected a small fortune over the years. i complain out loud to myself about how awful the stairs are (uneven, steep, evil, turning, hard to get down while holding anything) and know - someone else has said this exact same thing.

when i was packing up to leave and doing a final deep cleaning, i found a note carved in the furthest corner in the narrow cave of my closet. a child's scrawled name, a faded paint handprint, the scrangly numbers: 1857.

we've been human for a long time. way back before we can remember.

#idk if it's still tradition but the kids at the local school next to walden when I went there #used to have a tradition where u had to pee in walden pond before u graduated or otherwise you'd fail one of your classes #as someone who did not do this im happy to report i did fail a class so maybe they had a point #they've torn the school down tho so who knows #i hope this makes sense #i think we've been human longer than we've been writing #ps this land was taken over by hostile combatants and colonialized . let us not forget that part of the reason #our 'history' is so short. is that we have systematically slaughtered the people who had history here before

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ejsuperstar · 2 months

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Imagine you live in pelican town. The new farmer has been here a couple weeks now and seems to be settling in, except... He's picking the weirdest friend choices. Like sure it's not weird to befriend the local fisherman, especially when he has an interest in fishing himself, but you're pretty sure you've seen him rooting through the Saloon's garbage with the local homeless man. As well, he keeps harassing the poor guy who works at Joja even though you KNOW he doesn't want to be friends with him.

And since you're on the topic of weirdness, isn't it odd he seemingly runs everywhere at a full sprint? Or just... Eats entire raw fish while fishing for "energy reasons"...

...

Despite all that, it's too early to call him off putting or anything... He has been engaging in town traditions, and he's started helping out with the old community centre. He's probably like the rest of you. Someone with a few quirks, that will fit in with the valley great!

Surely he can't get any weirder... Right?

#been playing my new sdv save some more recently #i keep thinking about the whole “eldritch” farmer thing #where the famer is just... objectively strange #i fucking love it #i love the idea of the farmer being some sort of higher being #someone who doesnt understand local conventions #someone who doesnt get why its considered weird to eat whole raw fish fresh from the river #or how it might be offputting to greet someone for the first time using their name #but at the same time #this eldritch entity genuinely wants to be a part of the community #they want to learn and they want to love and they want to learn to love #i see minmaxxer/speedrunner eldritch famer a lot #mainly played off for gags #but not genuinely loving their live in the valley eldritch farmer #at least not often #theres so much temptation to write an eldritch farmer x shane fanfic set in spring 1 or some shit lmao #text post #stardew valley #sdv #sdv farmer

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rottenaero · 1 year

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What if Steve got kicked out of his parent’s house after season 2?

He was already on thin ice after s1, with the beers and his fight with Jonathan, but after he got into ANOTHER fight with Billy they’re just kinda like, ‘pack your shit and leave’

And after a few weeks of living out of his car in the school parking lot, Eddie notices him after Hellfire and just kinda like, offers his house as a place to stay.

Of course Steve is like, ‘nah, ill be fine’ because he doesn’t want to freeload, but Eddie is absolutely not having it and convinces him that he wouldn’t be, and that he can pay him and do chores and shit if he really feels that bad about it.

Then Steve just starts living with him, of course there are rules, don’t invite people over, don’t talk about Eddie’s business, and don’t talk about the shit in his room.

The rest is the standard criteria, don’t bring animals in, don’t burn the house down, blah blah blah.

Course Wayne is a bit mad about this random guy with the last name Harrington at first, but the guy makes him coffee before he leaves for work, and is willing to put on a goddamn sailor costume to pay help pay the rent, so eventually they become acquaintances.

Eventually turning into the two watching sports on the tv and laughing at Eddies antics.

Thing is, during this whole thing, no one knows they live together. Dustin and the party don’t get much more than i moved out with a friend after the first time they ask to hang out at his house, and Hellfire just knows he has a roommate, not that its Steve, because all his shit is in the living room and hes always working when they’re over.

One day, mid-lunch, they decide to hang out at Eddie’s after school and he's all cool with it but is like ‘wait, my roommates off, let me go ask them if its okay’ and they're like ‘sure, okay, I wonder who it is?’

Then he waltzes straight up to Steve Harrington, who’s sitting by Nancy and Jonathan, and asks.

“Hellfires coming over afterschool, you good with that?”

“Yeah sure, do whatever, its your damn house, I can get out your hair if you want?”

“Nah nah, its all good, want you to meet ‘em anyway. Hey hey, wanna sit with us today?”

“Sure.”

Then Eddie heads back to the now silent Hellfire table (actually the whole cafeteria is a little silent) and sits down in his seat, Steve sitting in the empty one next to him.

Hellfire is absolutely confused, not just because Steve lives with him, but because of the very talked upon rumors about Eddie being gay, and how very true they were, and the fact that as a former-king, Steve should know that.

Steve however, seems very unconcerned with those rumors because for as close as Eddie keeps getting to him, even holding his bicep at some point, he acts very chill and relaxed, even leaning into him at some points.

Hellfire eventually calm down, and go to his house after school, and around 10 they decide to just stay the night. Eddie gives them a thumbs up, and turns to Steve.

“You’re bunking with me tonight.”

“Cool.”

Gareth starts panicking because there is a very obvious pride flag above one of his posters and he may not have seen it before and Eddie is so getting beaten up.

Except none of that happens. They wake up early that morning and Steve starts getting ready for work, and is about to leave when he turns to Eddie with a smirk.

“What, no goodbye kiss? Too dorky to do in-front of you friends?” And Eddie strolls right past the flabbergasted Hellfire and plants one on his temple.

“Goodbye o-great-king-of-assholery!”

Gareth quite literally chokes.

(What makes this even better? They’re not even dating, thats just Steve-being-Steve)

Part 2

Ao3

#might be coming to your local ao3 in more detail #they're dorks your honor #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #Steddie short #might write this #might not #hellfire #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #ficlet #steddie ficlet #crisisinverted17 #crisisinverted17's roommate au

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ghostbsuter · 6 months

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Danny had everything under control! He did!

It's dark out, time ticking to zero, and he's desperately trying to hide the baby yeti along the shadows of the alleys.

He's so so dead. Even more than he is right now. Turning full ghost even.

When Frostbite finds out that he'd taken his eyes off Snowdrift for five seconds and ended up in the living realm with no preparation, very short notice, or plan, he will never trust Danny with babysitting again!

Oh ancients.

"Hey there— is that a yeti?"

Great, a hero.

Swirling around, Danny stands in front of Snowdrift, hiding their form barely, their fluff and form peeking from behind the legs.

"No—"

"Greetings! My name is Snowdrift!"

Danny glances at the yeti cub as they stand next to him.

"Snowdrift, this is a stranger danger situation, remember what I told you about those?"

The cub peers up at him, confused. "Name no name and call for Dad?"

The teen nods.

Snowdrift looks at the hero, and a light bulb goes off. They quickly slide back behind Danny's form, simply peeking from the side now, curious.

"You saw nothing." The halfa turns to the hero, grinning nervous yet threatening.

"I'm not sure this is how it goes—"

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #fic prompt #writing prompt #RANDOM HERO! CAN BE ANYONE!!!#snowdrift (oc) is frostbites kid! they go by they/them but can use he/she too!#frostbitr literally gave danny ONE JOB and he messed up bad #trying to get tthis yeti toddler home without being caught (Fail)#he ends up getting help from the hero duh #but still #his pride is done for #snowdrift has no idea of human customs #dc x dp prompt #local teenager babysitting yeti cub more at 11

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 9 months

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just a little something for the darling @yournowheregirl to wake up to! it sounds kinda dumb and insignificant, but i always appreciate your tags in the fun tag games that come across your dash and for always being one of the first that ask something from those ‘ask me’ posts i reblog! it makes me feel appreciated and i am super grateful every time 🥰🫶🥹

There was meant to be two beds.

Steve specifically got a double king room for the goblins, and another room with two queens for him and Eddie.

So of course as soon as they got into Milwaukee the night before the D&D themed nerd fest, the (actually very nice) woman at the front desk says: “We had to swap around the rooms, but the two will still sleep all you boys, don’t worry!”

Whatever. That’s fine, right? They’ll all have a spot to sleep the next two nights they’re here for the kids’ (and Eddie’s) dragon game convention.

He gets back to their rented minivan and passes the key cards to Eddie in the passenger seat.

The van was just the first point of contention between him and the kids’ beloved Dragon Meister, followed closely by…everything else.

The first thing Eddie said when Steve showed up in the rented van was “King Steve is coming along on our journey?”, to which Steve could only respond with “This ‘super cool’ guy you assholes have been going on about this whole time is Eddie “The Freak” Munson? Really?”

Following closely behind are: the tapes and tapes of loud garbled ‘music’ Eddie insists on playing, his absolutely tragic way of unwrapping Steve’s burgers for him when they stop for lunch, the wariness Steve has in the first place about this being the guy Dustin wouldn’t stop talking so highly about…this nerdy, obnoxious, third-time senior…great.

“204 is the Hellions’ room, 207 is us.”

Eddie bends an arm backwards into the feral beast enclosure the second two rows have become over the last six hours and Steve’s surprised he still has his hand when it returns to the front.

Steve gets the van parked in the hotel’s garage, and they head up to their rooms.

“Alright, assholes,” he says to the somehow still rambunctious masses, “This is you guys, Make sure you’re up by eight so we—“

“Yeah Steve, we got it,” Dustin scoffs, “As if we’d risk being late to this.”

Steve rolls his eyes with a “Fine, goodnight.” and shuffles the few steps across the hall to his and Eddie’s door, leaving the troops to file into theirs.

The only thought in his head is of laying down and getting the fuck to sleep. It wasn’t even that late but—

“Oh you’ve got to be shitting me.”

So that’s what brings them here. To their one barely queen sized bed.

“I guess I’m on the floor then, huh?”

“I’m not about to let you sleep on the floor.”

“Oh, the King has chivalry does he?” Eddie rolls his eyes and throws his duffle onto the armchair in the corner.

“As much as you, asshole; I just want you to have the energy to corral the gremlins tomorrow.” Steve scrubs a hand down his face. “Look, we’ll just deal with it tonight and I’ll get another room tomorrow.” he lies. As if he’s got the cash for that.

Eddie looks him over, and seems to come to whatever conclusion he needs to because he says “Fine, but you better not be a blanket hog.”

Eddie’s the worst blanket hog Steve’s ever had the displeasure of knowing.

He thought Robin was bad, but this is something else.

Eddie’s fully a burrito within an hour of laying down. After a hearty, but silent, game of tug of war over the worn duvet.

Steve falls asleep angry and cold, and wakes up on a cloud.

He’s so warm and so entangled in the comforter, he can’t help but snuggle deeper into the pillow he’s clutched onto.

The pillow hums back at him and scoots itself under his chin with a sigh.

Steve squeezes tighter onto the pillow momentarily, but his curiosity of why his pillow’s making noise gets the better of him.

He cracks his eyes open, looking down at the thing in his arms.

It shifts as well, and Eddie Munson blinks up at him with those (holy shit…beautiful, deep, dark) doe eyes of his.

“Hi.” Steve breathes.

Eddie’s eyes flutter shut, and shuffles himself back into Steve’s neck.

Steve chooses to blame the still sleepy bit of him for curving himself back around Eddie.

“How’d you sleep?” Steve whispers into the now-bared hairline under the other man’s bangs.

“Fucking amazing…” Eddie mumbles, snaking an arm over Steve’s waist and settling a hand in the middle of his back. “How ‘bout you, Stevie?”

“Stevie, huh?” Steve chuckles.

It’s only then that Eddie seems to come to his senses, his head shooting up before he scrambles away, falling straight onto his back between the opposite side of the bed and the wall with an “Oof!” and a “Fuck!”

“Oh shit!” Steve shuffles off the bed and helps Eddie back up, ”You alright, Eds?”

“Yeah..yeah, I’m fine..” Steve gets Eddie back on his own two feet and (reluctantly) lets him go once he’s stable.

‘Reluctantly? Why reluctantly? What the hell??’

“Sorry I was all over you, not the greatest thing to wake up to, huh?” Eddie says, huffing a sardonic laugh under his breath.

Steve hums nonchalantly, “It wasn’t all bad, I slept pretty fucking amazing too.”

Eddie hums an acknowledgment, then: “I wouldn’t—“ Eddie starts at the same time Steve says “I should—“

“You go ahead,”

Eddie’s hands come up between them, spinning the rings on his fingers nervously. “I was going to say that…I.. Iwouldn’tmindifyoustayedtonight..too.”

Steve blinks. “Good thing I was going to say that I really should save my money.”

Eddie’s smile is slightly nervous, but there’s a hopeful tinge to it that Steve can only assume means what he thinks it does (hopes it does).

“Leaves me with more to spend on the Gremlins, right?” he shrugs.

Eddie beams. “Glad to know we’re on the same page, Harrington.”

also, if you haven’t heard it recently: Alice, YOU’RE DOING AMAZING SWEETIE 🤩

#and there was only one bed #oh nooo what ever shall they doooo #be pleasantly surprised by the company of the other in that bed 😏#that’s what #also ps i looked it up so it’s accurate #gencon is the dnd convention and between 1985 and 2003 it was held in milwaukee #about 4 hours from indianapolis #so +2 hours for hypothetical additional time from hawkins #in my head this is a trip just before school starts in 1985 since gen con was aug 22-25 that year #dw about the logistics of the party’s parents letting them go lmao #maybe the party meet eddie at a the local game store and somehow convince steve and their parents to let them go before the year starts #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #st #st ficlet #steddie ficlet #noelle writes

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marmialadee · 24 days

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Writing poetry because crying in my mothers’ arms isn’t an option.

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mcflymemes · 8 months

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please don't mistake silence for hatred. please don't mistake unanswered plotting messages as indifference, or a lack of enthusiasm towards you. considering the ages of most roleplayers, many of us have bills to pay, families to take care of, medical conditions to treat, appointments to make, classes to take, homes to clean, and lives to live away from the computer that are far, far more important than writing on tumblr — life has a tendency to get in the way of hobbies and fun things like this. be patient with your fellow writers. if it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out. of course you can set your boundaries, keep your space comfortable, and softblock whoever you wish, but do so while recognizing it's probably not hatred or apathy that keeps them from leaping into your dms with message after message. they probably love this hobby just as much as you... but sometimes life gets in the way.

#rp psa #roleplay psa #rp help #roleplay help #roleplay advice #'the rpc has changed for the worse' that's your opinion #but have that opinion while also acknowledging the ages of those you write with #and recognize they have responsibilities and worlds to take care of #people who depend on them #financial strain. hardships. unemployment. housing problems #medical bills. local weather disasters #trauma in their life deaths in their family #you cannot expect instant messages or EXTREME enthusiasm from everyone in this community #when so many of us are also dealing with irl situations #that are MORE important than talking about our fictional characters meeting for the first time #would it be nice if we could all find a comfy balance #and put passion into this hobby like we did when we were younger?#oh sure!!!! but that's just not viable anymore

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lotus-pear · 7 months

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i think you guys are onto smth..

i unironically got invested in this HELP

#WHERES THE FIC AT IF SOMEONE WRITES THIS I WILL PAY THEM A HUNDRED DOLLARS😭😭#kunikida serving the country while dazai's serving cunt😔#dazai was born to malewife but forced to manipulate and i think that's the greatest tragedy of bsd #anyway some facts i would like to share abt this au thay i came up w while drawing!!#takes place in 1939 (start of wwii) and there was a mandatory draft that required one male over eighteen from each house to serve #both of them are still twenty two and had been engaged for abt two years before getting married that year #newlyweds! unfortunately kuni had to go fight and they were seperated :(#before the war kunikida was a math teacher at the local high school and dazai obviously managed the household and didn't work #he's hopeless at cooking and meal prep even w recipie books so they either get those prepackaged meals or kuni makes dinner when he gets ba #so like when he's making lunch for kunikida he normally just packs a basic sandwich w raw fruit #kunikida always appreciates the effort even tho hes probably sick of having the same thing everyday but he won't complain abt it #when kunikida joined the army he was relieved that the mess hall had better food than dazai #he was the only one in his platoon that never complained abt the food so his fellow soldiers assumed it was bc he came from a tough bg #when in reality he was just used to being poisoned on a daily basis from his dumbass husbands cooking and was hardly fazed from army ration #they write to each other although its more dazai sending and kuni receiving bc hes off fighting and doesnt have time to write back #dazai talks abt life on the homefront and how he has to grow a victory garden (everything is DYING HE CANT EVEN RAISE TOMATOES)#and kuni writes abt his fellow soldiers and how the war is going and when he thinks he'll be home and how he misses sleeping in a bed #ANYWAY yea thought i'd share sry for infodumping in the tags again #this post is for like the four ppl that care abt this specific flavor of knkdz so hopefully this gets four notes at least #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #kunikida doppo #doppo kunikida #kunikidazai #knkdz #lotus draws #bro sry for posting at two in the morning i couldnt sleep until i got this out of my head they have infested my brain

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sukuna-dees-nuts · 4 months

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this is for @nessieartss!! based on this (it was me that asked, surprise) and also the first part of this art

i hope you enjoy!! older brother sukuna lives rent free in my brain right now and i love him being a bastardman

---

“Ay, what the fuck was that?!” Sukuna shouts as Yuuji cackles in glee. His character races into first place, winning the Grand Prix. Sukuna' goes from first place to fourth. “You threw a red shell right after a blue shell! That's fucking cheating!”

Yuuji shrugs, lounging back against the couch and drops the controller next to him. “Don't hate the player, hate the game,” he says with a grin and pulls out his phone. “Those dishes aren't gonna wash themselves.”

Sukuna grunts as he tosses the controller onto the coffee table. “I hate both the player and the game.”

“And the game hates you!” the younger boy calls out after his brother's retreating figure.

Turning his attention back to his phone, Yuuji’s grin melts into a soft smile when he sees Yuko's name on a Snapchat notification. He glances over his shoulder to make sure that Sukuna is still in the kitchen before tapping on the notification. It won't be anything inappropriate, but he knows for a fact that if Sukuna saw that his younger brother was texting a girl, Yuuji wouldn't hear the end of it.

The Snapchat shows a picture of a latte with the classic tulip foam art and a caption that reads: ‘I think I'm finally getting the hang of this latte foam art!’

Yuuji holds his phone out to take a picture of himself, giving Yuko a big smile and a thumbs up.

‘That's so good!! Ur a professional now. If I ordered one, would u make me a cat???’

“Yo! Can I put this cast iron pan in the dishwasher?” Sukuna asks from the kitchen. He waits for a response and gets nothing. “I’m about to put this pan in the dishwasher!” Again, no response. Rolling his eyes, Sukuna makes his way back out to the living room. “Dude, if this pan gets ruined, it’s gonna be your fault—”

Sukuna cuts himself off when he catches sight of a picture of a girl on his little brother’s screen. Immediately, he reaches over the couch and snatches the phone out of Yuuji’s hand. “Oh! Who is this?” he gasps, bringing the screen closer to his face for a better look. “Do you have a girlfriend little bro?”

“Hey!” Yuuji scrambles, turning around to lean over the back of the couch in an attempt to grab his phone back. Sukuna places his hand on Yuuji’s forehead, keeping him at arm’s length as he looks over the picture. “Give me back my phone!”

Smacking Sukuna’s arm away, Yuuji vaults over the back of the couch and decides to try and wrestle his phone back from his brother. It doesn’t work, however. The two grapple for a few moments and the next thing Yuuji knows, Sukuna has his arm wrapped around his brother’s neck, holding him in a firm headlock. It isn’t enough to hurt him, but it’s enough to keep him from trying to escape, knowing that it’s futile.

“Who is she, huh?” Sukuna presses as he slides Yuuji’s phone into his pocket and begins rubbing his knuckles on the top of Yuuji’s head.

“I’m not gonna tell you!” Yuuji laughs, trying in vain to smack Sukuna’s hand away from his head.

“Well, I’m not letting you go until I get some answers,” the older boy states, rapping his knuckles against Yuuji’s forehead. Then he pinches Yuuji’s nose.

Weighing his pros and cons, Yuuji relents. “Okay, okay! I’ll tell you! Just let me go.”

Sukuna snorts. “Nah, if I let you go right now, you’ll just try to punch me and I won’t get what I asked for.”

Yuuji groans. His brother knows him too well. “Her name is Yuko. She’s just a friend. I haven’t asked her out… yet,” he grumbles the last word.

Satisfied, Sukuna releases his hold on his brother and hands Yuuji's phone back.

In the midst of the struggle, Sukuna hadn’t noticed his own phone had fallen out of his pocket. It dings and Yuuji is the first to snatch it off the ground, curious to see who would be texting Sukuna. His jaw drops at the name displayed on the lock screen.

Sukuna quickly plucks his phone from Yuuji’s hand and goes back to the kitchen as Yuuji shouts after him, “Dude, why is Megumi texting you? And why is there a heart next to his name?!”

#jjk #jjk sibling au #yuji itadori #sukuna #implied sukufushi #sorta anyway #also do not put your cast iron skillets in the dishwasher 😭#this has been your local psa #echo writes

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flamingpudding · 4 months

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How to NOT find out you're adopted

The fun thing about dying was that it messed with your mind. Well it wasn't fun perse but well it was an expirence. It was espacially fun if you have died twice.

And the best part was. Finding out through dying that you're adopted. Really Danny wanted to sarcastically applaud someone for that.

Because when he stepped into his parents portal and turned it one by pretty much dying through electrocution and then getting revieved by the portal that opened on top of him, life decided that wasn't enough drama. Because at that time a whole set of apparently lost memories reopend.

Good point. In the months after his portal accident he had been to busy to deal with that. Bad point, once he had the time to think about it he wanted to rip his hair out cause apparently that portal accident had not been his first death but second death.

Like it wasn't enough that he didn't have any memory's of anything before the age of five before, got some freaky but awesome ghost powers, no his memories has to return too.

And he didn't like it when they did.

Because that meant he now had to remember his oh so gracious grandfather killing him by throwing him into the Lazarus Pit as sacrifice. Really getting drowned wasn't fun as a first death.

Because that meant he was the son of a crime fighting furry. Someone he barely knew anything but his vigilante name and all the praises his bio mother used to brainwash him with.

Because that meant he had a brother that was likely still getting brainwashed by probably both their bio mother and the lunatic of a grandfather.

Because that meant a realization that the Lazarus Pit was nothing more than a ecto-variant. Which, screw that he now got revived two times through that shit too.

But most of all that meant he was fucking adopted and his parents didn't bother to tell him at all. Now, he really didn't feel bad anymore about not telling them about Phantom.

Really as if being half ghost wasn't messing with his life enough now he was starting to get worried about this grandfather's cult and the crime fighting Bat.

At least they wouldn't come to Amity Park, right?

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proxycrit · 4 months

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Part 1 / Part 2

Emmet remembers when he and Ingo first brought Elesa to explore Celestial Tower, back when they were fourteen and thought they were immortal.

“Allegedly, the bell chime will bring ghosts home”, ingo had told emmet with the pompous knowing energy of a child who read way too much brochures. “It’s culturally significant! We must ring it.”

“Hmmm,” emmet had responded suspiciously. “Brother. The bell is at the top of the tower.” The implication stands: Ingo, there are thirty flights of stairs between here and the top, and no elevator to speak of.

Don’t be a coward, Litwick had told Emmet with the blaise tone of somebody who’s going to be piggy backing off of somebody else. Go ring the bell. Tynamo, sensing a litten fight, floated towards a loitering blitzle.

Ingo turns his lilipup eyes on Elesa, who’s squinting at the carved stone faces of the front door.

“Elesa? What do you think?”

Elesa thinks. She shrugs. “We already made our way here,” she said in accented galarian. “Might as well make it the rest of the way. Ganbatte!”

Emmet sighs. “This is a mistake,” he tells the two in exhaustive patience, but lets himself be dragged into the building.

Last time the twins were here, Ingo caught litwick— but not before she managed to nab a good chunk of Emmet’s soul. It’s not terrible; he felt fatigued for a week and bounced back pretty quickly, but it was the principle of the whole situation— celestial tower’s a pain in the ass and Emmet will stand by that until the day he dies.

Like right now.

The map isn’t working. Emmet checked it once. He’s checked it twice. He’s taken out his pen and written on it, which he would usually never do but desperate times call for desperate measures. The compass he brought spins useless circles. It’s like chargestone cave up here, but worse because instead if electric pokemon it’s all ghosts.

“We’re lost, yyup yup!” He announced to the crew. “I vote we eat Ingo first.”

“I love you too,” Ingo told Emmet placidly. “But we all know between the two of us, you’re the tastier one.” Litwick gives Emmet a thumbs up. Emmet gasps in mock affront.

“Elesa, help!”

Elesa gives the two of them a wary look. It took two floors for her to realize this is not just a weird temple with strange rocks, but a full out graveyard. She’s not very happy about that development.

“Don’t drag me into this,” she tells them. “Teme wa urusaii.”

“I will take that as a compliment,” Ingo reports back.

Emmet, who’s cheerfully struggles with Galarian on a good day, simply gives her a thumbs up.

The three painstakingly crawl their way up. And up. If all else fails, Emmet told himself, at least they can orient themselves towards high ground.

“We’re like pidoves,” Ingo gasps. He has fallen behind them on the stairs, with Emmet taking the lead through sheer spite despite his legs going numb on floor twenty two. “We, hah, we are attracted by the magnet of the bell, like, like probopass-“

“I am emmet! You are not making, sense!” Emmet called back. Elesa, who’s stuck between them and looking two steps from perpetual collapse, giggles.

“No, no hear me out, Ingo wheezes. “What if the bell’s a magnetic pole? And that’s why your compass doesn’t wo, woo, hahh, work.”

Emmet stops to rest, just because Ingo is using precious breathing air to infodump. Elesa gratefully slumps against the railing. Tynamo and litwick, lazy in their still small size, have settled on a weary blitzle and look very smug doing so. (Emmet is not jealous, he tells himself. Emmet is also lying.)

“The bell’s important,” Ingo had repeated.

“Okay,” Elesa responds. “If it’s important to you, then it’s important to us.”

And Emmet finds that he agrees with Elesa. Partially because they crawled up twenty fucking three flights of stairs, but also because Ingo thinks this is important, so it is.

And here’s the thing—

— emmet doesn’t remember much after that.

The rest of that trip was a blur of exhausted groaning and burning legs, and by the time the trio managed to breach floor thirty, people’s brains have all but dribbled out their ears. Emmet remembers being disgustingly sweaty. He remembers blitzle almost tripping to death and litwick’s swearing. He remembers tynamo sticking to his neck like a damp towel. He remembers Ingo’s excited sneasel smile, and the way the sunset bounced off of Elesa’s hair.

He remembers the brassy ring of the Celestial bell. It sounded like victory.

But it was Elesa’s cackle turned scream as Ingo swiped cold hands down her neck that sounded like home.

—-

So when the conductor at thirty one, lost and disoriented in the Impossible Place, heard the sound of a familiar bell, ringing over and over and over-

-the sound of laughter-

-EMMET! Elesa cried-

-like a homing pidove, the conductor, thinks nonsensically as something in him perks up.

(Emmet had always liked winning, more than anything else, and the sound of victory calls him home.)

—

Elesa catches lightning in a bottle. Elesa, arms outstretched, finds purchase in her brother, and does not let go.

Emmet is so, so cold, Elesa thinks as the wind steals air from her lungs. (That’s okay. She’s already breathless from a terrible business called hope.)

Emmet stares back. His hands flap against Elesa’s jacket. Elesa desperately drinks in his wan face and too wide eyes and his frost bitten lips. In a tiny, meek voice, almost lost to the wind, he asks:

“Are you real?”

Elesa lets out an ugly sob. Her tears whip away in the wind as they fall. Emmet’s frightened countenance turns immediately to alarm. His shaky grasp becomes a solid grip as they spin through the air, cushioned by chandelure’s psychic.

“I think so??” Elesa warbles. She sees Emmet’s eyes dart to her mouth. He’s reading mirroring her, she realizes with giddy delight— it’s such an Emmet thing to do, to read lips, and-

“I am Emmet,” Emmet breathes. His eyes have started to water. “Yyou are Elesa- Oh dragons, Elesa!?“

Elesa reaches. Hesitates.

Emmet grabs elesa by the lapels and crushes her tight against him. Elesa holds on, and the grief and relief in her accumulates into a wet sopping mess. She’s ruining his jacket, she mourns, but its okay because he’s dripping all over hers.

She can’t hear what he’s saying into her shoulder, can’t read what he says, but everything’s okay because every part of her is chiming

You came back

You’re here

I’m not alone anymore.

Around them, the air distorts as Chandelure’s psychic wavers, flutters, and solidifies. Gravity reverses its call as they settle gently on the ground, dust billowing in all directions.

The ghost pokemon drops next to them, shaking so hard the musical clang of glass makes Elesa flinch.

You fucks, Chandelure gasps. DON’T GO LEAPING OFF BUILDINGS, I AM NOT YOUR EMERGENCY PARACHUTE.

“I’m sorry,” Elesa gasps, still giddy from the adrenaline.

AND YOU! Chandelure howls, whirling on Emmet, who’s still staring at the ghost with huge eyes. He’s gripping on to solid ground with the energy of a man who realized he could have been a splat on the ground.

YOU LEFT!

Emmet winces.

You- You left us, you left me-

Ah, ah no, Elesa thinks as golden globules of light shed from Chandelure. This is what a ghost looks like crying.

Emmet holds out his arms. Chandelure drifts into his embrace, and shakes, and shakes, and shakes.

You left me, the ghost pokemon whispers. How dare you. How could you.

“I didn’t mean to,” Emmet whispers. “I’m sorry.”

Stop doing this to me, Chandelure demands. Golden brine joins human tears, like drops of sun trapped in wet glass. Stop going where I can not follow.

And Emmet holds his tongue, because he knows he can not promise staying. Not while Ingo and Eelektross are still in Hisui.

(In the back of Emmet’s hurt and shattered mind is a spark. Synapses connect. The cold breach of the Distortion does nothing to drown out the sudden flare of hope in Emmet’s chest, so great he can not breathe, so strong he can not feel, because there’s a path. A difficult, painful path through the Space that Can Not Be, but a path all the same.)

“Elesa, Chandelure-“ Emmet’s voice breaks. He wants to tell them about Eelektross. He wants to tell them about the terrible past that is Hisui. He wants to explain how the last five months were filled with horror and wonder and fear and hope.

Hope, he thinks. So he says this:

“I know how to get Ingo home.”

NOTES:

AAAAAND THAT’S ALL FOR THIS DRABBLE. ITS OUT NOW. I CAN FINALLY GO BACK TO POSTING HAPPY SHENANIGANS! (Now you know the shape of their story.)

Thanks for reading this monster of a post!

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