#Imma go with yeah

[methoughtsphantom]

Danny fake guardian angel au

You know how sometimes it’s highlighted how you have to be very careful on what you say in the presence of a spirit because they can twist your words and end up bidding yourself to it?? well uno-reverse-card the spirit also has to be careful on what he says because when Danny had said he owed the dude one for coming to his rescue in a gala Vlad had dragged him to, he didn’t expect that to be taken literally.

danny: wait seriously?? i literally say that all the time!

cw: not after being crowned ghost king, you haven’t

danny: but—but I was also human when I said it. doesn’t that protect me or smth

cw: *shakes his head*

danny:

danny: omg this is a nightmare

cue timmy’s brucequest period (cuz he’s the guy) being so high strung and tired, he just wants some company, which is a so low stakes thing to want the deal Danny unintentionally goes sure we can do that and pulls him towards the guy, despite Timmy never outright saying he wants company. (tim always speaks in the sanctity of his own mind, not out loud)

So. random spirit manifesting. Tim going all who the fuck are u

and Danny panicking and saying your guardian angel

Tim not being impressed while Danny promptly blushes like a moron because that did not come off as he wanted it to.

Yes accidental dead tired where the dynamic goes from Tim trying to shake this probably demon that somehow latched to him being all like ??? dude leave me alone, and Danny being there like bitch i’m trying

to

huh. im actually being protected by a spirit like he said he would. he’s strangely an idiot but also he’s overpowered and just never leaves my side which he says it’s an angel obligation but I think it’s bullshit but also hoping it’s not because it appeals to my crippling fear of abandonment (anyways he really seems to take after those little cartoon angels that poof into your shoulder to keep from me doing wrong decisions) translate into my future boyfriend seems increasingly appalled to what i am up to

meanwhile danny

Bitch you better thank your god I’m dead because otherwise I would already been killed. I did not sign up for a assassins what the fuck I thought you were a normal civilian not a literal superhero and omg that is a fruitloop. no no back off you wrinkly raisin this is my emotional support idiot you can’t have him and what do you mean you’re messing with time whatever this way I can get back to clockwork—

[starboysbrainrot]

“why are we still friends ?”

[evelyn-and-art]

TORSO STUDIES (extras): Kotoha, Shizuka, Tsubakino and Endo

Art Studies with Eve #2

The studio welcomes three lovely queens 🫶

...and a snake 😕

And that completes the torso studies! Thank you for the positive feedback on the first part and for waiting for this one 🫶.

Part 1

[whump-is-love-whump-is-life]

Screaming.

Please do not do this but I just screamed for 30 minutes so here’s what you should know.

Can’t do it continuously for very long, have to stop to breathe (amount of time and breaths it takes to recover depends on how long you hold it)

It is EXHAUSTING. Seriously, if your whumpee has been screaming for more than thirty seconds multiple times, they won’t have ANY energy to fight back against the whumper. My head was hanging down for a bit because I was just so tired. The exhaustion also caused dizziness when I stood up. Also it’s been around five minutes and my throat still hurts super bad.

Oddly, I could still talk, maybe a bit of rasp in my voice but still effectively and fairly easily. (Again, about thirty minutes with tiny breaks)

Seriously when the exhaustion hits, it hits H A R D

Mouth kinda hurts too tbh

Heart beats pretty rapidly during and shortly after

My head hurts

Both hurts and helps to cough

Update an hour later: slightly hurts throat to talk

Moral of the story:

Don’t scream so much that you exhaust yourself,

Make your whumpee scream to the whumpers content

[ljungbergmadde]

Shhh- Don’t tell the guys over on yt, this is just a peek for you tumblr 🫶

Also might be a little flickering!

[astronnova]

round 6 was like

[lonesomenecromancer]

just finished isat rn. here have some doodles (i have many emotions)

also uh. this

[juniperarts]

I think you like pavitr.. Don't know tho, its just a theory after all.

Idk what has you thinking that.

Interesting theory tho 🤔

Curious to know why you think so

He's an ok character I guess

*looks at my icon for a split second* anyways-

Imma go draw (not Pavitr)

[purplebehittindifferent]

Well guys, here it comes.

imnotcryingyouretheonecryingimjistallergictomyemotionsstfu

[scificrows]

i like to make fun of murderbot for being all "i hate everyone, i don't care about anything or anyone, fuck off" while simultaneously caring very much about the people around it and the situations it finds itself in. i love how it "accidentally" ends up caring quite a lot about the friends it makes along the way. but i think something that i tend to forget is that murderbot actively decides to care - at least at some point in its story.

idk, as a person that struggles with depression, this paragraph from artificial condition really resonates with me. prior to all systems red, murderbot had contracts. it had routine and it had protocols. it knew what it had to do to just get by, how to perform so no one would notice it had disabled its governor module. it was deeply depressed, yes, but it was functioning (for lack of a better word). in artificial condition, murderbot's routine is gone. it cannot go on in that state of numbly going-from-contract-to-contract, putting in as little effort as possible, consuming media to cope. that option is gone because it escaped (and note that escaping the company was not an active choice, it kinda happened to it). murderbot has two options now: it can either gather all its energy; actively do something new and difficult and distressing; change something in its life and try. or it can let the numbness and the emptiness take over and stop trying. if murderbot wants to survive as a rogue secunit, it has to try. no matter how difficult that is. the wording in that paragraph really hits home for me. the way the non-caring sees an opportunity to slip in and to take over. does murderbot even care? does anything really matter? is anything really worth the hassle? wouldn't it be so much easier to just let your mind slip away a little, to go numb, to be passive, to watch media and wait for things to happen to you? wouldn't it be nice to stop thinking and struggling and feeling complicated things? to stop making an effort? you've been dealing with a lot lately and maybe it's time to just shut down. maybe you'll just take a little break. just slip deeper into this chair and start the show. time flies when you're not paying attention. trying is exhausting. who cares if you don't do the things you wanted to do, you were supposed to do. it'll be fine. let's just ignore those things for now. just let the non-caring take over. just stop thinking. you can deal with the aftermath later. just watch your shows. who cares. but murderbot cares. it decides to care. it decides to fight with all it has and i think that is so brave. and i think in the later books caring is less of an active decision for murderbot. once you start caring, it's easier to keep going than to stop; and murderbot, for all its "i'm a grumpy rogue secunit, leave me alone" behavior, knows just how important caring is. so it's not that it doesn't know what's happening; rather, it lets itself care. tl;dr: caring is not the default for murderbot, it's just the more difficult of two options. and it decides not to take the soft option. it decides to struggle. it decides to care. and so it does.

[psychotic-nonsense]

< || >

"Eddie...?"

"I'm sorry. No. Not quite."

"The hell does that mean-" Steve doesn't get to finish. His body reacts on its own again, wanting to surge and face the evil head on. All it does is strain everything in him again, makes him hiss in pain and struggle to remain upright.

The hand that he didn't even realize left returns, and the other holds a wet cloth. It dabs at his forehead, lukewarm and comforting. Everything is as cold as the Upside Down, these days.

"Not important. It really is best that you stay in place." That tone is monotone again, the brief moment of clarity gone. It's back, the... thing using Eddie's voice, his body, his face like an amateur puppeteer. How brutally ironic. "You must heal."

Steve, ever stubborn, bats the hand above him away. It's just a limp wave in his state, but the thing backs off. The hand behind him remains though, surrendering to help Steve find his way up. It's tough, considering how swollen one hand feels and the lingering phantom pains that Steve's body endured but Eddie's did not, but Steve gets himself into a sitting position.

"'Not important,' my ass." Probably not the best threat when Steve hacks up a lung immediately after. The thing doesn't respond, and when Steve faces it again, it's face is painfully blank. Wide, yellow glowing eyes stare at him, a bare hint of white at its center, so utterly familiar yet simultaneously foreign.

"If you're not Eddie, then what are you?" Steve spits, full of emotion compared to the husk beside him. He brings his left hand up to his chest, rubbing softly along the wrist with his other and wincing at the feeling.

The thing takes in a breath, eyes flitting off to the side briefly before returning. Still with that infuriating lack of emotion. "You are not in a good state to have this conversation."

It reaches for Steve's hands with the rag, and he pulls them out of reach. Too quickly, as well, his jaw instinctively clenching with the motion, resulting in an even more embarrassing groan of pain. "You don't know that," Steve forces out.

"I do."

"How so?"

"You are injured, weak. And this is a complicated matter."

"You just don't want to tell me."

"Because it will be too hard for you to hear."

Damn, it's got him there. As much as Steve wants to know, he's not sure he could bear the answer. Everything rubs so raw, everything having happened in such quick succession to him, and he feels like a live wire.

It reaches for his hands again, now frozen on his lap. Steve doesn't fight it, lets it carefully take his hands in its own. "Rest, let yourself calm." The thing says. "Then I will tell you."

Steve, begrudgingly, welcomes the still damp rag it wraps around his swollen hand. Doesn't do more than flinch when it's warm hands begin carefully massaging his through the cloth, thumbs circling around the wrist in a barely there pressure Steve feels in pulsing waves.

He takes the time to study the thing beside him. Human, definitely, an exact replica of Eddie at its core. Same clothes, same hair, all the same from the last time Steve saw Eddie alive. Except this thing glows like a faint light bulb, the light seeming to come from its entire being rather than one place. Steve already knows it's eyes, wide and unfeeling, pure gold but for a pale shape at the center.

Then there's the scars. When Steve last saw Eddie's body, there was a huge gash along it's left cheek, deep and bloody. Now the mark remains, but it glows the same damn bright gold as everything else. No blood, no tears, and this thing seems to have no problem talking with it. He wonders what that means for the wounds that took Eddie.

A slightly stronger pressure is applied to his wrists, and Steve groans again. The hands stop, let him breathe through the pain. Sprained, at best, and the doctors lingering around Hawkins have more to deal with than one possibly broken bone.

They've been sitting in silence for who knows how long now, the rag in their shared hands already cooling. The massage and quiet have done their job for Steve's brain, allowing him to come down from the panic. He's still pretty raw, but he no longer feels so in danger.

"Can I ask you something else then?" he asks carefully, voice raspy and soft.

The thing doesn't respond right away, and doesn't look up when it answers. "Yes."

"Where'd you get hot water from?"

It almost seems to relax at the question, as if it was expecting a different one. It still hasn't moved, still cradling Steve's hand. "Your bags had water and matches. This place had pots, and we are in the woods."

Fair enough, Steve supposes. "Why bother? Water is water."

"It is cold, and you are weak. We assumed the heat would help."

There it goes with the 'we' thing. It referred to itself that way earlier too. But Steve knows he should be wary with what he asks, so he ignores it for now, in place of something far more important.

"Is Robin okay?" His voice cracks a little there. Neither of them talk much louder than a whisper, but Steve still glances over at his best friend. She remains asleep, unmoving in every place but the one that matters.

"You both have similar injuries. You have woken, so she will too. She will be okay."

Steve sighs, put more at ease by that than he thought he'd be. Yet the response only creates more questions. He gently pulls his hand away, turning back to face the thing beside him. It does the same. Confusion to blankness.

"How'd you find us?" Steve asks slowly.

It blinks in response, pausing. "I found you in the Other woods." It says 'other' like it's a title. "I don't know what happened to you."

"Why did you bring us here?"

"It was empty. Close to the Gates."

Steve's coming up on the point of no return. He can feel it. He doesn't ask the more obvious, important question, but he can't stop himself from toeing that invisible line. "Why take us in at all?"

The thing finally shows its first sign of emotion in a while, eyebrows furrowing just slightly. Guilty again. "This is your home. You weren't safe there."

They stare at each other for a while after that. Steve holds back every impossible question he has. It watches him, face falling just a tiny bit more, waiting for him to break.

Steve cracks. His voice shakes, fighting to keep himself in control. To stay calm enough so he can finally get answers. "You apologized for bringing us... here earlier. How did you even know about that- about any of this? The boathouse, the medical supplies, how to start a fire. What-" He stops himself before he goes too far.

Its eyes search his expression, flitting between the injuries across his face. Still just the barest hint of guilt in the slight furrow of his eyebrows. Eyes still wide and inhuman. "I was told."

Steve doesn't ask, 'By who?' Doesn't let it come out in the desperate wail it wants to. Because he already knows. So he gives that plea to another question, puts as much emotion into the pathetic whisper that slips past his injured jaw.

And he breaks. "What are you?"

[kineticallyanywhere]

Monkey’s Paw pages 144-147 ( START HERE || ao3 || previous || next ) AU after episode 62. The Omega Dads try a more desperate gambit, but   careful what you wish for. Our dads find alternate versions of themselves in a strange dreamscape. If you die in the dream, do you die in real life?

"three psych outs in a row is that good writing" let me COOK

anyway hey guys im still alive. these pages just did not wanna happen. mostly panelings fault. finished not perfect, amiright?

[theresonly1u]

There's Only One You 2024: a sports rpf short fanworks prompt meme is live!

262 fanworks in 12 different sports rpf fandoms. Check out the works and the fandoms and grab a cup of coffee 'cause it's just banger after banger across fandoms!

Thank you everyone for your hard work in making this another wonderful year! It is a joy to do this with you again. Your enthusiasm and joie de vivre make all the logistical stuff worthwhile.

Creators - make sure you update the posting date on your works to today so it appears at the top of the tag, especially if you posted weeks ago! Your names will be revealed on Monday, April 8 between 9am-10am pt (unless your work is also in anonymous collection.)

Everyone - if you enjoyed a work, slam that kudos button and leave a comment! Short works do not get nearly enough attention in fandom and these creators worked hard - let them know what you loved about their work! And I'll emphasize that doubly for the podficcers, artists, and fanmixers here, because those are also creators that don't see a lot of praise even beyond short fics. tl;dr: kudos + comment if you liked it!

Thank you all!! Settle in for a good weekend because we've got a lot to enjoy here 🌞

[ask-my-memoir]

The Zoroark starts on his way to collect his axe. As he is walking, his ears pick up on more rustling coming from in front of him.

It seems Kaine has revealed something about himself!

(Note to be added to character page!)

[ @ask-the-royal-absol ]

Thank you for the ask!))

[fighting-naturalist]

-You're suggesting Osiris is here on Earth, manipulating Dr. Jackson's dreams? -We think it's possible, sir.

[grif-hawaiian-rolls]

"Hey baby, bet I could help you with your daddy issues!"

~

"Pft- five," Simmons snorted, leaning on Tucker's shoulders. "Out of ten." "Aw c'mon, really?" He groaned. "Why'd that one get such a low score?" "It just- it sounded more creepy than flirty?" "I think that's just the Donut-effect kicking in, man," "Yeah, well, try again then because no one can undo the Donut effect," "Tell me about it. Okay, okay... hey baby-"