#ALL of these critters are WEIRD

[jorenilee]

everyone asleep WINGS OF FIRE AU ATTACK !!! 🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉

Not all of them are an animus but I think the joestar bloodline deserves a 🤏 bit of inheritable magic, with josuke's gift being healing and jotaro's heightened strength and speed.

Koichi grows his wings, Okuyasu becomes the gang's bigwings, and Kira throws others off his trail by using dragonflame cactus explosions to cover up the true deaths of his victims (venom).

[molabuddy]

me if i was dog. if u even care

[sp0o0kylights]

Part Two / Part Three

Ao3

It's 8:45 am. 

The Red Barn, which is neither red nor a barn, has been open since 7, catering to the early morning crowd with rounds of coffee and pancakes.

It was no Benny's, but given the size of Hawkins and the lack of alternatives?

No one was complaining. 

They were all too happy someone had opened up another watering hole for the working class man (or lass, as Foreman Shelly will dutifully remind you) which meant the place was packed with both day and night shift regulars, passing each other in staggered waves. 

It also meant Wayne was sharing the packed breakfast counter with a warehouse worker by the name of John Cheese on one side and Police Chief Jim Hopper on the other.

He doesn't mind it.

Wayne's a man on a budget thinner than his shoelace, but he's also a man who understands that small indulgences need to be made in life or you didn't truly live it.

This is how he convinces himself to get a coffee at the Barn after work everyday, reading the morning newspaper and chatting with the other regulars before he heads home.

Bonus, it gets him out of the rapid-fire franticness that is his nephew in the mornings.

(All the love in the world wouldn't change the fact that all that Eddie came with a lot of noise. 

The kind of noise that was a tried and true recipe for a headache right after a long shift.)

As a trade off, Wayne went to bed early so he could wake up in time for dinner with Eddie.

 It was a nice little system that worked for them. 

A routine Wayne was reminiscing fondly on, when the pager on Chief Hopper started to chirp. With a sad moan, the man fished out a few crumbled bills and threw them on the counter, abandoning his coffee to trudge out to his truck.

This was not unusual.

Particularly recently, given they were but a scant few weeks past that whole mall ordeal. A fact all too easy to remember when one caught sight of the Chief’s still healing face. 

What was unusual, was when he came storming through the doors a minute later, face now a furious shade of red with his hat clenched in his hand. 

The energy in the room shifted, taking on something a little watchful as Hopper swept his gaze from side to side, like a dog on the hunt.

Judging by the way he stilled when he caught sight of Wayne, the latter assumed he found what he was looking for and could only pray it was the person behind him. 

(He liked John, but Wayne had enough trouble this year and he wasn't looking for any more.) 

"Munson." Hopper called, striding over and dashing all his hopes. There was a choked fury emitting off him, and given the way John audibly scooted his chair away, Wayne knew everyone had clocked it. 

"Chief." Wayne greeted, inclining his head towards him.

Idly he wondered what the hell his nephew had done this time.

'So help me if he stole all the town's lawn flamingos and put them in that damn teachers yard again….'

Wayne didn't even get to finish his threat, the Chief was already next to him. 

"Mind if I have a word outside?" 

Dammit Eddie.

"Ah hell, what's he done now?" Wayne asked with a sigh, eyeing the coffee he had left morosely. 

There was still almost half of it left and the pot had tasted fresh for once. 

"What?" Hopper said, and then Wayne got to watch as the man ran through an entire chain of thoughts, each one punctuated by things like; "Oh," and "No. " 

"This is something else." He finished, flushed and fidgeting, anger making him antsy. 

Wayne stared up at him. 

"Something else?" He repeated, not sure he heard.

"Yes, something else." Hopper snapped impatiently, before leaning forward, voice dropping low. "This doesn't involve your nephew, but we both know you owe me for how many times I've let that kid off, Wayne. That's a damn big favor I've been doing you and I'm calling it in." 

If it were any other cop, it'd sound like a threat.

It was Hopper though. The same Hopper who Wayne had gone to school with.

They'd never been friends exactly, but they had been friendly and remained so. Even now, after Wayne had taken Eddie in, who’d gone on to be an undeniable pain in the local PD’s ass. 

Hopper really did let the kid off easy. 

Wayne really did owe him. 

So he put down his coffee with a sigh, passed his newspaper over to John and stood up, motioning for Hopper to lead the way. Got into the Chief’s truck when he waved him in, and didn’t make a big fuss when Hopper tore out of the parking lot like hell was about to open up under them. 

"Not a lot of the kids involved in the mall fire could be identified, but a few of them were." Hopper started, which felt nonsensical given the utter lack of context. 

Wayne hummed to show he’d heard. 

“Some of them got banged up more than others, and a lot of people wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t make it.” 

A pause, Hopper white knuckling the steering wheel as he swung the truck hard around a turn. 

“For certain people, those kids dying is the preferred outcome.” 

A mix of fear and warning swopped low in Wayne’s gut. 

"Jim." Wayne said, dropping the use of a last name because if any situation called for it, it was this one. "What exactly are you saying here?" 

The Chief chewed on his split lip. 

"I know you're smart, Munson. I know you, and plenty of others are aware that something's happening, been happening in this town." 

Which was a hell of an understatement if you asked Wayne. Plenty of the upper classes might be able to bury their heads when it came to the military parading about and the flow of “accidents” they brought in their wake, but then, they didn't see all the other signs of trouble. 

The absolute oddity that was Starcourt’s construction. 

How it had been built using primarily outside crews and anyone who'd taken a singular look at the site could tell you they were building it weird. 

Weird as in it looked like it would have a multi-level basement, and not what a mall should have. 

Then there were the constant electrical problems. The backups upon backups that failed. The late night delivery vans headed out to the Hawkins Lab. 

The things in the woods that kept spooking all the deer and the weird markings they left behind that unnerved even the hardest of hunters. 

This didn’t even touch the Russian military that more than one reputable person swore was hanging around. 

The very same Wayne himself had seen, on more than one occasion. 

(And you couldn’t deny it; those boys were military. Past or present, it didn’t matter. They moved like a threat, and Wayne treated them like one, staying well clear.)

"Yeah." Wayne admitted. "I also know better than to stick my nose in it." 

"That makes you a smarter man than me.' Hop complained under his breath, but the anger was self directed. 

"The point is, there are some government types crawling around, doing shit they shouldn't be doing, and more than a few of them are in the business of making people disappear.” 

This was absolutely not where Wayne had thought this was going. 

Hopper took a breath. Than another.

A third.

It was starting to make Wayne nervous, in a way he hadn’t felt since a social worker had brought Eddie to him for the last time and final time. It was the feeling that things were about to shift in a way that would change the course of his life. 

"Steve Harrington is sitting in my office right now, beat to absolute shit.” Hopper admitted.

Wayne gave him the floor to talk, letting him go at his own pace without interruptions. 

“He's there because some of those government types finally figured out his parents are never fucking home.” 

Wayne sucked in a breath. 

"We both know his parents, Wayne. Harassing them to come back and take care of their kid won't work, and frankly, I’m beginning to think all the phone lines are tapped anyway.” He winced here, like voicing such a thing pained him, and Wayne understood.

It sounded a little too out there, a little like he was buying into a conspiracy. 

Except he wasn’t. Wayne knew he wasn’t. 

Jim Hopper might have been an alcoholic, a man living in pain and unconcerned with his own life, but if there was one thing he was solid for, it was shit like this.

He didn’t jump to conclusions. Didn’t believe the first thing people told him. Even at his worst, he did the work to see what was really happening, and made his decisions from there. 

(Even if that decision was to accept the occasional bribe, or drive an intoxicated 13 year old Eddie home instead of hauling his ass into the drunk tank.) 

“Harrington won’t admit it, but he’s got a hell of a concussion if not a full blown brain injury and he’s not reacting as well as he should to Suites trying to run him off the road.” Hopper continued. Angrily, he added, “Damn kid didn’t even come to me until they tried to break into his house last night.” 

His fingers squeezed the wheel so hard Wayne heard the leather creak in protest. 

“I’d take him, but my cabin is being renovated from…” He trailed off, heaving a sigh.

 “A storm, so me and my kid are bunked with the Byers right now and we’re full up.” 

Hawkins hadn't had a storm like that in years, but Wayne wasn't going to call him out on the blatant lie. 

“I need a place to stash him for the next few weeks, until I can work with some of the higher ups sniffing around, and get them to call off their attack dogs.” 

“And you want to stuff him with me.” Wayne finished. 

“I know you don’t have the room.” Hopper admitted easily, stopping his truck at a red light and locking eyes with the other man. “But I also know you’ll be the last place anyone would look for him.” 

'Ain’t that the damn truth.'

“You’re really gonna go this far for a Harrington?” Wayne asked, instead of the million of other questions leaping to the forefront of his mind. 

This one, he figured, was the most important. 

“He’s not his dad.” Hopper said, as firm as Wayne had ever heard him. “He’s not either of his parents, and he saved my little girl.” 

Wayne hadn’t even known Hopper had another little girl, but he also knew better than to ask where the guy had found one. 

It wasn’t his business, just as nothing else Jim was involved in, was his business.

Except, apparently, Steve Harrington. 

“I’m gonna need my own truck if I’m takin' Harrington home.” Wayne said easily, instead of bothering to ask anything else.

If Jim said the kid was different than his daddy, then he was--because when it came to things like that, Jim didn't lie.

No point in it. 

“I know. Just needed to talk to you first, without anyone overhearing.” Jim said, before swinging the police truck around and heading back to the Barn. 

“I’ll stay in contact with you, and I’ll make sure Harrington pays you for the pleasure of your hospitality. Just--” Here Jim cut himself off, looking like he was struggling an awful lot with the next thing he wanted to say. 

Once again, Wayne waited him out.

“Don’t let Steve fool you. He’s good at fooling people, letting them think he’s okay. Too good at it, and between the two of us, I have a real good idea of the reason why.” 

A memory came to Wayne unbidden, of Richard Harrington and Chet Hagan, beating some poor kid in the highschool bathroom bloody. The grins on their faces as the poor guy wailed for them to stop.

How they almost hadn’t. 

“Alright.” Wayne agreed.

Hopper swung back into the Barn's parking lot, and Wayne moved right to his own beat to shit truck, ready to follow Jim back to the police station.

He wasn’t a praying man, not anymore, but Catholisim wasn’t a thing that let you go easy. 

He found himself sending up a quick prayer, fingers flicking in a kind of miniature version of the sign of the cross. 

Considering his own kid’s history with Harrington, and the sheer small space of the trailer? 

Wayne had a feeling it was needed.

[non-plutonian-druid]

[ID: a doodle of Stanford Pines, frowning and wearing a shirt that says "I was born with a mutation of my SONIC HEDGEHOG gene pathway and all I got was this lousy t shirt and six fingers". There is a bad drawing of sonic the hedgehog behind the text. End ID.]

is this anything

(dear people who know things about genes: look man i dont know things about genes, i read one (1) scientific article about polydactyly. it seemed to indicate that we dont actually know the cause of most of the types of polydactyly that Ford might have, but of the types that we DO know the cause of, most of them regulate our good friend SHH. im doing speculation slash lying for the bit! for the jokes and japes!!!)

[strapped-and-beheaded]

wait just realised pcverse everyone's living in the like, same building, they're like all housemates.......

how often do the pcs run into each other in the hallway at 3 am covered in slime and other fluids? are they eating breakfast/dinner together? do they hang out in the loft where Bailey can't get them? there is like no locks anywhere do they just burst into each others rooms.. who hoards the bathroom the longest and annoys everyone?

[canisalbus]

today I had a dream you were in my class, but in a weird way. You were represented by Machete. I went by and handed him some fanart of your ocs, he took a look at it and said "you do know that's not how you draw dog faces, right?" Other than that, he was really mellow, even concerned for me sometimes.

.

[watercolourcritters]

doodled a really relatable horse today

[ID: A drawing of a unicorn in a very cartoonish, silly style. It has an exaggerated long thin face, very long thin legs with no discernable hooves, and massive googly eyes. It is sitting on its haunches, and text reads "He has seen the horrors." End ID.]

Instagram | Tip Jar & Sticker Shop

[battiegutz]

feel like im gettin closer 2 a design i like fr this little rat idk,, also messin w brushes bc grrrr growl bark grr

[djevelbl]

IMtober days 5 & 6 (bc the power had it fucking out for me)

also ignore the inconsistent font size on the drawings. i'm figuring it out i swear (no I'm not)

anyway so yea. I'll go catch-up with today's prompt now fuck the power going out all my homies hate the power going out

[paradoxbeta]

videocult you better explain because what the fuck is this

[lactoseintolerentswag]

Rise Characterizations Pt. 6!!!!!!

After the turtles and Splinter, here we have the girl Ever. She's pretty spunky, I had fun analyzing her for writing.

April O'Neil Character Notes

Language Habits:

Uses bae/aave, something she could have passed on down to Raph and Mikey as they also use bae/aave

Most notably uses "mm-kay" in place of "okay"

Uses a lot of filler language, interjections, or onomatopoeia. Think "mhm", "uh huh, uh huh!", "oh yeah!"

"Ah nuts" is her go-to disappointed phrase

Grits and or strains her teeth when she's frustrated

Uses her own name (the full "April O'Neil!!!!") as a battle cry, or brings her name as a motivator i.e. "the one and only April O'Neil will solve this case!"

The more worked up she the louder she tends to be, this extends to stronger emotions such as passion or panic

Over text uses emoticons

Refers to splinter as "splints"

Refers to the turtles as "the fam"

Refers to villains/antagonists through insults rather than their names

Personality:

Adrenaline junkie, as she's often the first to jump into a fight. She also laughs in the face of danger, and was seen maniacally laughing and smiling the entirety of the gumbus episode

Jack of all trades. April has a lot of skills she's picked up from various jobs or personal adventures she's seeked out (like canoeing through the sewers in a hazmat suit and earning a crane license)

Wild and blunt. April is Loud, and rarely ever afraid to share her opinion. This can either make people draw back from her bluntness or be drawn in by her excitableness

Self-conscious. Despite her strong sense of self-esteem, April is still often motivated to impress the popular kids at school or at least fit in. She doesn't want to be seen as the weird kid, or associated with the weird kids

Persistent. April is always quick on her feet to hit back whatever comes at her. She has a good set of problem-solving skills that she's gained from all the skills she's picked up

Loyal. She's always willing to back up the turtles, and goes out of her way to keep Splinter happy with her company. Once she finds a friend it's hard to pry her away

Unlucky. Mostly in absurd or mundane ways. She has that whole curse with her birthday, but things don't often tend to go right for April O'Neil, which contributes to the disasters that cause her to get fired all the time

Miscellaneous:

Code-named "yellow submarine" by raph

Tends to have information on wifi passwords, secret exists, and access to keys from all the jobs she's been hired and fired from

Has a preference for blunt objects as weapons (most commonly bats, clubs, pipes)

Uses the environment in a fight in general

She's been part of the "warren stone fanclub" since 2010, and keeps all her ids in her wallet

Likes unicorns and cats (as seen through her brief texts with sunita and her pajamas)

Loves laser tag

Can beat Donnie at video games (if he didn't use cheat codes)

"sherlock_corn" is her handle online

Lives in an apartment/flat with her mom (showed onscreen briefly), that has its own bathroom

Has a subtly mentioned interest in fantasy, as noted by Donnie she tends to download fantasy rpgs and freaks out over cosplay wizards

Just an end note to all of you who aren't black, some offensive tropes I would stray from is making April the angry black girl. This is one of the most common stereotypes of black women in media. I wouldn't mistake April's passion or loudness for aggression. It would be a disservice to dilute her lively character into familiar but ultimately harmful tropes in media.

I am in no way saying you cannot portray April as angry, this is a powerful emotion and it should be explored with black characters, but I am saying that should not be the base of her character. Because well that's not even April's base. She's centered around fun and thrill-seeking.

Wikipedia (yes I know, But they have proven to be more dependable these past years) has a good article on the angry black woman stereotype, so that would a good place to start research on what to Avoid. In my splinter post I also provided some links on doing research on writing poc.

---

Anyway!!! We've ended our analysis trip of the main cast in s1. Next I'm thinking of picking apart our antagonists :]. Gonna take a break to work on my own fic, but stay tuned if you found any of my other posts helpful! It's been a fun ride with you all <3

[northstarscowboyhat]

Do you have a sona? Just asking because I usually imagine you as Lucky Clover haha

HAHA visualizing me as Lucky Clover is honestly hilarious! They pretty much are my brand at this point. I don't really draw myself that often, but I do have a silly design for the rare times I do!

They're very silly and stupid but. This is the cowboy hat that draws nothing but UTY content.

[critter-card-collection]

Critter card 01 - the sea pig !

🌊 Sea Pig

Scientific Name: Scotoplanes spp. Habitat: Deep ocean floors (up to 6,000 meters/20,000 feet!)

💖 Why They're Cool: Sea pigs are basically the ocean’s cleanup crew — they feast on organic particles in the mud, keeping the deep sea tidy!

[randomwriteronline]

It was Nokama's fault. Of course it was Nokama's fault. It had to be Nokama's fault, because Nokama always got him to do what she asked.

Because they were friends, and he could never deny Nokama anything she asked.

So there he was. Standing before a big, stupid something that he recognized but refused to address as it should have been, perfectly frozen, glaring at what little he could see of a Ruru and Mahiki and Komau as they peeked through the barrier in their work.

His friend nudged him forward, saying nothing. He gave her a tired look; she squeezed his hand in her own with a small sad smile and crawled into the structure to help, leaving him to decide what to do on his own.

He felt so exhausted.

Whenua's head perked up beyond the barrier to look him in the eye.

"We're working for you too, you know," he said simply. "I don't think anybody would complain if you got up here. Maybe even lent us a hand with that Matatu of yours."

"Whenua," Nokama murmured.

"I know. I know."

Matau just leaned over and extended a hand towards him invitingly without a saying single word. Nuju took it, allowing himself to be hefted into the structure by his fellow Turaga.

It felt comfortable and enveloping in the best of ways, like a light embrace draped over one's shoulders. The flooring was soft yet perfectly solid under his feet; considering the rocky outcrop on which it was perched did not have a shape that could have been considered pleasant to lay or even just stand on, they must have been hard at work for quite some time now.

He watched them as they went back to their business while he could not move an inch.

His limbs seemed filled with molten lead. No matter how much he told himself to at least do the bare minimum, even just get out of the way so he could allow them to work on the spot he was occupying, his body simply did not register his demands. He was stuck in it like a pebble fallen deep into a too thin vein, blocking the until then streaming flow behind as it struggles in vain to push through, only managing to clog it further.

Steady hands grasped him and dragged his unmoving form back - both to reality, and towards an edge of the structure that evidently the others had deemed complete.

He was sat down with little force on the soft pavement; a lukewarm palm pressed slightly on his back to force his posture straight before he hunched miserably towards the floor. Something about the action reached into his entrails to unlock something, an uncomfortable feeling of resignation he had been trying to crush between his gears for days: weakly, he shut his eyes hard and leaned back as far into Onewa's chest as the other allowed him.

His fellow Turaga said nothing, grazing the back of Nuju's head with his mask.

The silence was unpleasant.

He couldn't bring himself to break it.

Fingers covered in scars, that had been broken many times, caressed his arm - he found his eyelids flying open all of a sudden, caught by surprise despite swearing he had been aware and alert. Had he dozed off? While they'd been working? Some useful member of the team he was, at a time like this nonetheless. Matau met his gaze without accusing him of anything: he offered the colder being half of an embrace that he accepted wholly despite a tired dullness dampening any display of appreciation with a lack of enthusiasm, eyes sinking into the greenish shoulder.

Nuju felt the two press against him as they leaned further onto him, as though they were the ones in dire need of support; it wasn't long before Nokama and Whenua's rustling stopped, and their weights too gently added themselves to those already pinning the Turaga of Ice to his seat.

His whole frame shuddered, wrecked by a sudden chill.

Arms tangled around him to trap him within their loving web. The other four swayed his body gently alongside their own, pushing and pulling him with a magnificent tenderness to lay him down, down with them, in their embrace, in their nest, falling into place against each other like puzzle pieces of a still incomplete enigma, haunted by the void they could not fill but trying, at the very least, to bring one another a glimmer of solace despite the absence cutting into their limbs and chests.

Nuju curled tighter into the affection surrounding him to try and stave off the lack of heat.

-

The firespitter was dragged away from the Agori healers who discharged him with feverish vigor and many hurried thanks that Whenua forgot to speak out loud and Onewa had to relay for him - they would compare the frenzy of the Turaga who came to pick him up to that of many mice, or bugs, scuttling about as fast as they could to grab all sorts of crumbs with their quick little fingers before anybody could chase them out of the room.

He was weak, still, during the first few days, and so the others had agreed that nobody was allowed to see him. If any of the Toa wanted to catch a glimpse of him they would either have to wait or seek audience at the foot of the nest he'd been hushered into, only being allowed any closer by a unanimous vote.

There was no need to fear for his condition anyways: he was being cared for in more ways than the healers could have provided, and they knew that.

Vakama had no intention of removing himself from his kin's embrace, either.

No matter who asked to see him he remained willingly lodged between them, kept warm by their presence around him as his body struggled to heat up in the way his element demanded he be able to, safely tucked within Nuju's arms; he clung to the Turaga of Ice in his sleep as hard as the other clung to him, and surrounded by friends in one another's grasp they slept better than they had in weeks.

[definegodliness]

Had a dream last night

Best movie you'll never see

[feelingferalwbu]

had the sudden urge to make a dollhouse!! base is made out of MDF and plywood. Now I’ve got lots of details to make (my favourite part).