#1 down a few to go!!!

[lionbearfox]

irminsul incarnate

[barksbog]

it´s honestly so hard for me to even finish 15-30h games let alone 100h+ games because i get maybe 2-3h a night to game and the pacing of most games makes that feel extremely frustrating.

at this point i´m begging for more 1-6h games

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 87

Part 1 Part 86

Mom’s hovering in front of the door, a knife in her hand, trying to get the rest of them to get away from the window. It’s not working. If anything, Max’s nose only presses more firmly to the glass with every request she makes.

Will’s hovering just behind her, desperate to keep Steve and Eddie in his line of sight. He can just barely see the wisp of a curl through the side window of the van, bouncing as Eddie moves around inside.

He squints, trying to keep the hair in sight as the movement becomes more erratic.

Will hears glass breaking just as he loses sight of Eddie entirely, wisps and all.

He rushes past his Mom, using the weight of his body to open the door, even as she stands in the way. It’s almost involuntary, a compulsion to follow the thread that Eddie’d pulled him by.

“Will, don’t!” she cries, but it’s too late. He’s out, and through.

Mike calls after him, too, and there’s the sound of tennis shoes stampeding out of the house behind him. Will only hopes he’s not leading them all to their impending doom.

Bodies slump into the driveway, none of them human. They’re like if the Demogorgon had followed a different evolutionary chain. Dustin would find it fascinating. Will just wants Eddie and Steve back.

Wayne’s still standing sentry, looking out across the street, waiting for more monsters to creep in from the darkness, Barbara by his side.

Shielding the entrance to the van, is El.

“El!” It’s Mike, because it always is. He sounds so genuinely elated that something curdles and dies in his throat. He swallows it down, hopes it decomposes in his stomach, so he never has to look directly at it. “You came!”

El smiles, happily at Mike, then around to all of them. “Of course.” She looks over at Max, and she’s frowning now, that way she does when she doesn’t understand something. It used to happen all the time. Now, it’s rare.

Will doesn’t care, can’t when Eddie’s too quiet in the van somewhere Will can’t see. He pushes past her, too.

There’s a misshapen, monstrous foot sticking out of the broken window. He stares at it for a second before swinging the door open. It wrenches the foot strangely, makes it crack and tear with the resistance of the door before it breaks free, black blood flowing like the thing’s still alive. 

It stays still. 

Will looks past it, and finds Eddie’s pale face.  

There’s glass in his hair, and his palms are bleeding where they’re held in front of him, but he’s breathing. Alive. And he’s looking up at El like she’s answered all his prayers. Will and Eddie have been sharing the same prayers from the same broken pews for so long that for a second, Will thinks Steve is back. 

He scrambles over the dead thing blocking his entrance. It’s cold against his palms, flesh barely giving as he crawls hand over feet atop it. But, Steve’s still just sitting there, blinking, Carol huddled into his side like he can protect her, even like this.

“Steve needs your help,” Eddie says, plaintive. Begging with both voice and unblinking eyes, gaze locked on El’s own until she breaks it to look at where Steve still sits, unbothered.

Her brow furrows, eyes squinting like she’s peeling off layers of skin and meat to get to whatever’s underneath. “He’s lost?” she asks.

Carol is squinting at El like the words aren’t clicking for her. She looks back to Steve, then back to El, brow furrowing with anger.

Eddie nods. Will clears his throat. “Not like last time,” he clarifies. “He’s here, but his mind isn’t.”

El nods, decisive. “I will help.”

“What the hell are you all talking about!” Carol demands, even as people scatter around her, setting up for El’s latest rescue mission. “He’s right there!”

She’s not looking at Will, though. She’s looking at Eddie like it’s all his fault. Still, when Steve doesn’t say anything, her lip wobbles as she turns and asks, “right Steve?”

He doesn’t answer, even as she calls again. Will looks away when she bites her lips, eyes wide.

It’s easier this time. They don’t have to break into the school, don’t have to find a pool. El just sits cross-legged in front of Steve on the carpet, careful to stay away from the broken glass and the dead thing. Mike covers her eyes with Wayne’s flannel while the man himself switches the radio dial until he finds one with enough white noise to satisfy.

He can’t quite tune out the murmured conversation between Eddie and Carol, though, no matter how hard he tries. Eddie explains, in clipped, emotionless words, that something, one of the monsters from the other place she’d just gotten a taste of, has taken over Steve. 

“But we’re getting him back?” she asks, voice shrill and breaking, contrasting with Eddie’s own even tone. A veteran to the newbie in the warzone. 

Will, suddenly, feels terribly old. 

“Quiet now,” El demands. 

Eddie looks away from Carol without answering. There is no answer to that question when they’re all subsisting off hope, and not much else.

“Tell him we’re coming, okay?” Eddie asks. He’s looking down at his own bloody palms now, like he can’t bear to look at their last bastion of hope and wait for it to flame and go out. 

“Ask ‘im how to stop the thing taking ‘im over,” Wayne interjects. 

Eddie’s lip wobbles. Will knows how he feels. He doesn’t want Steve to know, if he’s in there at all, that they don’t know what to do. Neither does Will. He wants to save Steve. He always wants to save Steve.

But, Eddie finally looks up, meeting Will’s eyes before nodding. The movement knocks a tear free, but his voice sounds clear when he says, “Ask him how we kill the fucker.”

El nods, shoulders settling as she reaches out to take Steve’s hand. The white noise blankets them all. Will settles down to wait. 

That’s what they always do, when Steve is dying: they wait. This time is no different. 

Part 88

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren @canmargesimpson @bananahoneycomb

[undead-moth]

I know I've been on about this for a while now and I'm being a hater but you're telling me SydCarmy was "always meant to be platonic" even though there are two seasons of writing making use of tried-and-true explicitly romantic tropes, themes and writing signals, and SydLuca is going to be romantic because...he was nice to her on screen for a few minutes?

I don't even care if people ship SydLuca, or if they just prefer it, but you can't honestly tell me that you believe Carmy was always meant to be a friend but Luca is an obvious love interest.

Just because Syd and Carmy haven't kissed or confessed their love to each other doesn't mean that isn't very obviously the direction this show is going. The Bear has already shown you who is endgame. It has shown you every episode of the show so far.

Honestly I really don't think The Bear fanbase understands this show or cares about these characters or the story being told here, which is unfortunate because this show is shockingly well-written in comparison to most shows right now, and we should be so grateful for it but all we're doing is complaining that the writers led us on by not making a ship canon fast enough. It's just. Sad.

[wu-wakfu-undertale]

i finished rewatching s1 of wakfu today

[redhoodie1723]

the imaginary carlos and charles beef that some fans are convinced is going on is giving Netflix DTS trying to convince us that charles and sebastian were mortal enemies that prayed on each other’s downfall nightly

[lesbiangiratina]

If testament was real they wouldnt let shit like this happen to me

[restinpeacesensei]

traditional style 💖

[sporksaber]

I have now read two (2) fics where Kakashi marries Zabuza through old clan traditions involving fighting as a proposal, and now I'm just thinking about kisaita again.

Non massacre au, to start with.

Itachi is so stressed out with his clan. Under no circumstances does he want to marry any of the women the elders are trying to set him up with. He's taking constant missions to avoid being home but as more time passes he gets more and more pressure trying to keep him in the village.

Kisame meanwhile, after a wHile of missingnining it up, is having a very not good time. With the unstable political situation in kiri the hunter nin have been going hard trying to get the legendary swords back, and he's tired. He misses village life. He doesn't want to do this anymore.

Enter itachi. They cross paths while he's on a mission, end up fighting together, and then itachi and kisame get drunk together (as one does). They commiserate about their personal struggles of the moment and then itachi's like wait—

I see two birds between us. I have one stone. 1+1-1x=0, the solution equals you should marry me, right here right now.

And kisame like the fuck do you mean?

And itachi is like yada yada yada, ancient clan traditions still valid in the leaf due to respect for historic clans, blah blah blah: simple set of seals, spar, bang, become legally married. You get citizenship and I don't have to marry a woman.

And kisame's like fuck it, ok.

And so itachi pulls up with a new giant blue husband and his clan elders are pissed.

[magnapanther]

FINISHED WORK?? on MY page??? it's far less likely than you'd think. and yet, somehow, here we are. :D

(well, finished enough to post and call "done", i should say. i may yet meddle with some details when i inevitably notice ten more flaws immediately after posting :D)

good old moss knight, such a devout follower of big slug. surely no wandering knight would ever end such a noble creature's life before he had the chance to speak with a certain fellow at a nearby bench! :D

this was essentially just me testing the waters with digital after some time avoiding it, and especially colours/lighting. it's been a while since i actually tried to make something fully fleshed out like this. i don't know, i feel like it could have come out worse :)

[mejomonster]

being sad because of chronic illness is like... go to therapist. therapist says "well don't be so negative! maybe you can go do X more!" and you're like "well no I physically can't." and then they go "well maybe your doctor could do more, have you checked X Y Z?" and you go "well I have 5 doctors, and saw 4 others, and they've ran a ton of tests and done surgeries for the past 5 years, and I was MUCH worse before so comparatively they've done a lot, and they don't intend to do more, this is as good as it gets, and this is how it is probably going to be for my whole life. So no, I don't think I'll have more energy/ability to do X more in a year." therapist "well, never say never, maybe in a year you will be better!" me "yes. but i will also feel pretty emotionally crushed if i plan to be perfectly healthy in a year, then i'm not and still can't do any of the things i made myself excited to do." therapist "well... focus on what you can do! what can you do today that you like?" and i'm like "well i had to work today, to keep my healthcare, and i had to sit up to see you, which also exhausted me so... either i'll use the rest of my spoons to shower and eat dinner, or watch 1 show episode and eat dinner..." therapist "oh well... maybe you can do something fun... on the weekend?" me "well if i don't grocery shop, i will probably have energy to see 1 friend for a few hours. i may try to do that." also me - just do not mention the nonstop nausea and pain even doing things i like because we will re-enter the beginning of the loop where the therapist asks why can't you take more medicine, isn't there more treatment options, and i have to very hopelessly remind myself that no actually there is no option i'm not already doing and this pain is just something i have to fucking live with and i'd really rather not RUMINATE on that depressing ass situation over and over again.

[cillyscribbles]

Just want to let you know that I appreciate your public crisis due to your attraction to the rum tum tugger

THANK YOU very much it was actually my public crisis due to my attraction to his cringefail wet meow meow looking older brother but i stand in support of anyone who's ever had these feelings toward tugger as well. we should form like a support group

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

The far right racist and xenophobic riots [im not fucking calling them protests] that have been happening here across the uk are fucking disgusting. Some small good measures are being put in place [extra security for Mosques] but the fact that this country is so deeply racist needs to be fucking adressed and dealt with. the far right protesters are already being arrested and tried, however I wonder how many counter protesters will also be dragged into the court rooms with the aim of 'fairness' despite in several cases being there to protect the hotels and communities first, and having to be human barriers before the cops eventually show up

[pandora15]

Angstpril 2023 Day 1 Prompt: Liar

tw: character having trouble breathing, open ending

Obi-Wan knew, from the moment that he agreed to take on this mission, that it would be difficult.

Faking his death, having to pretend to be someone he wasn't for the sake of his own survival, having to interact with the likes of Cad Bane and Count Dooku himself without getting his cover blown…

Well, he knew from the beginning that it would not be easy.

But none of that was as difficult as it was to return.

The transformation from Rako Hardeen back to his own body was uncomfortable — painful, leaving him shaky and somewhat feverish. The vocal emulator wreaked damage to his vocal chords, and Master Che had confirmed that there was likely some infection in his throat that she'd like to monitor over the coming days.

Which obviously meant that he was stuck in the Halls for now. It wasn't ideal, but considering the fact that he couldn't keep down most foods because of his throat and his entire body ached any time he tried to move at all, he supposed it made sense.

Obi-Wan didn't exactly like it, but even that wasn't the worst part.

Anakin wouldn't speak to him. On the ship when they were returning from Naboo, he'd maintained his distance, and once Obi-Wan had gotten his commlink back, he'd sent Anakin messages frequently, only to receive nothing.

Obi-Wan knew that the deception had upset Anakin. He understood why — more than most, he understood.

But he had hoped that Anakin would also understand why he did it.

"You lied to us," Anakin had said, when Obi-Wan had approached him on the ship. "What else have you lied to me about? Do you even care about any of us?"

Obi-Wan had no response to that — how could he, when he knew that Anakin was right? He did lie to them, after all.

And now he was here, alone, because he did what he knew to be right. Anakin wouldn't speak to him, Ahsoka wouldn't speak to him, Cody wouldn't speak to him, the Council wouldn't speak to him.

He'd succeeded on his mission, and yet —

He'd failed them all.

Letting out a sigh, Obi-Wan placed his commlink back on the table next to the bed. He winced as his throat spasmed at the rush of air, and then he coughed, bending forward slightly to gasp for air.

That seemed to trigger a chain reaction of sorts. The more he gasped for air, the more it irritated his throat, causing him to gasp even more. And the air wasn't even traveling down his throat properly, which meant that —

He couldn't breathe.

He couldn't breathe.

The room seemed to tilt on its axis around him as he shuddered and gasped and placed his forehead on his knees. There was a ringing noise, muffled by the blood rushing in his ears, followed by the sound of footsteps. Voices surrounded him, but he couldn't make them out, not until —

"Obi-Wan?" A hand on his shoulder, pushing him back until he was lying back again, head arching backward in a desperate reach for air. He couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, couldn't —

"Okay, okay, just hold on." The voice was gentle, soothing. "Your throat has swollen up too much. You're not getting enough air."

There were hands holding him down, the hiss of a hypospray, followed by the feeling of everything getting floaty and blurry, until…

His eyes snapped shut, and the memory of his lies that constantly plagued him faded away.

[raininyourblackeyes]

My cousin, a published writer, a well-known poet in my country and a literature professor, for whom I've always been no.1 support ever since her first attempts at writing in high school, told me that I must stop writing as a hobby because that's her thing and since I'm writing fantasy mostly my writing could never have any important artistic value anyways.

[princess-of-the-corner]

Thinking a little on how one of Season 1-3 Adrien's biggest traits was being rebellious against his father.

He's first introduced as going against Gabriel's wishes and enrolling himself in school. He's constantly sneaking out to go hang with his friends. He even teaches Kagami to do the same thing.

And then in Season 4-5 his whole thing is about being obedient and too scared to even try going against Gabriel to the point that even when he /is/ Magically controlled into obeying despite wanting to think for himself, no one at all questions why he's suddenly like this.