#THANK YOU FOR THIS GIFT FRIEND!!
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Some Doc Donnie/Donald Pierce Halloween shenanigans! Created by the UNPARALLELED @yourgaydads!!!
(And if anyone wants a Donald Pierce/Donald Pierce dress-up fic… Sincerest Form of Flattery by yours truly)
#THANK YOU FOR THIS GIFT FRIEND!!#Donald Pierce#Donald Pierce/Donald Pierce#doc donnie#the hand drawn tattoo is SENDING ME#and the way he calls Pierce’s outfit a costume… yes please#the ways masculinity is a costume too and Pierce absolutely performs#Donnie knows best how performative Pierce’s affectations are!!#also the thigh slit… mm#pierce is undoubtably the sexiest and grouchiest witch at whatever costume party they’re going to#also doc holding up the hanger with his port??#10/10
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large button on my shirt that reads i survived season 2 episode 6 in red impact font
#awesome pride month gift thank you mr hadel and mr cusack. i will be thinking about this for the following three weeks#smiling friends#pim pimling#charlie dompler#charpim#my art
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drawings from paleo expedition to dagestan, done right on the trip. sometimes messy when it was cold and rainy, but i won't correct it. i think it's cool to leave it just the way it was done, and not retouch it after. there will be more drawings later, but those will be done from home
#i need to draw for 2 museums at least to then send it to them as a gift cuz people there were so nice???? AAAA#and yeah im definitely doing back#maybe in autumn... who knows#barghestland#art#artists on tumblr#and#paleoart#???#in a way it is i guess#also i usually don't share things from my sketchbook. but these drawings hold so many nice memories#of clouds that hide top of the mountains#of sitting on a rock#drawing and seeing a scorpion vibing next to u (tiny friend!)#of leaning on a big cow and almost falling asleep on a field with her after the rain#of... forgetting the pain too#of not wanting to even talk about the wonderful time i've had. because it was only for me to remember#so much happened up in the mountains that i'll never forget#thank u big rocks and soil and grass and apricot trees i love you#...#paleoland#fieldbook_barghest_land
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The Great Library: illustration for Into the Tower (x)
#choose your own adventure#dnd gifts#into the tower#fantasy books#also i love it when people tell me they bought this for friends as a gift or read aloud to their dnd group....... thank you......#art#my art
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Happy birthday, @fanaticsnail 💙
Happy birthday, my dearest Snail. How glad I am to be able to call you my friend and do this for you. I am glad for all the times I managed to get to know you better through our messages. And I am glad for being able to wish you a happy birthday and gift you this Cora pic I drew just for you. I drew it quite a while ago always with the intention of gifting it to you, but when I found out when your birthday is, I decided to make it a little bit more special. I love you, Snail, and I'm happy to have you in my life. With all that said, once more, happy birthday, and I hope you have lots of fun. Enjoy your Rosi like this, peaceful.
#i finished this a long time and my friend had to physically restrain me from not gifting it to you early#shoutout to her#one piece#digital art#my art#skullfaced snail#i love our tag#skullfacedlady draws#donquixote rosinante#one piece fanart#donquixote corazon#he is laying down in shallow waters#i wanna join him#i used to do the same when goibg to this one beach that had a lot of shallow parts#it was beautiful#reminded me of that#it was lowkey what inspired it#i wanted to draw him in some valley laying in fields of flowers but honestly#i like the sea more so i went with that#love you and adore you snail#i wanted to say that im proud of you#and for all that youve been writing#you did an insane job and i applaud you#thank you for being a friend
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Do you like sci-fi and indie animation? Check out Monkey Wrench!
#monkey wrench#digital art#This series is very delightful and also in need of more attention!#Usually I would ramble about why love it - however I am going to go a little off the rails and talk about something else.#Namely that this is a gift for a very dear friend who loves this series a lot! One of my favourite people of all time!#Thank you for so many things. For keeping me going when times are dark. For sticking by in the hard times.#Thank you for the incredible soup and the fun moments! For the great recommendations on series.#I sometimes feel like I should thank the universe for letting our paths cross when they did.#It feels cheesy to say all this but I really am such a better person because of you.#Thank you for reading all my silly comics even though you have *no* idea what is going on in them. It means a lot.#My gift of a silly doodle and hopefully getting a few people to check out this show is not adequate to express my gratitude.#But hey - we've got the rest of our lives to keep saying thank you.#Love you lots mate. Can't say it enough B'*)
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two losers caught in 4k
#a gift for a friend :)#yes solangelo is king but pls understand#my weakness is also annoying x edgelord#thank you for your sympathy#valdangelo#leo valdez#nico di angelo#pjo#percy jackon and the olympians#heroes of olympus#hoo#pjo art#pjo hoo toa#hoo art#pjo tv show#pjo series
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Vincent, for @mollymaukcoffeebeans! happy birthday, friend
#vincent valentine#ffvii#ff7#vincent valentine fanart#sketch#artists on tumblr#birthday gift for someone i've been letting down lately#i love you friend#thank you for being around
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Hey @sleepyconfusedpotato! I was boring and doing nothing or some bullshit so I decided to draw Jade and I love her so much 💖 I'm a big fan of you btw since 2022. Lmao it took me 30 minutes to draw this. Love from Philippines ❤️💖🇵🇭
Character owner: @sleepyconfusedpotato
WOWOWOWOWO
This looks amazing!! She's looking very great in your style!! Thank you so so so much for taking the time to draw Jade 💖💖💖💖
Love from Indonesia 🇮🇩 Thank you!!
#WAAAAAAA#so cool!!#thank you!!#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty oc#charlotte jade le jardin#gifts from friends
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“You’re going to blow out your arms,” the villain observed. They watched as the hero merely grit their teeth, shoving themself through another pull-up. It looked painful, and if the sweat slicking the hero’s brow was any indication, it was.
They waited for the hero to let themself drop from the bar and accept the villain was stronger. But they didn’t.
Three more pull-ups, and the villain stepped in.
“Hero,” they said slowly. “You’re about to tear the ligaments in your arms. You need to stop.”
The hero blew out a shuddering breath. Struggled for purchase, fighting gravity—and let themself drop.
The hero’s hands were bleeding, calluses torn open by the bar. The hero didn’t seem bothered when their own hands shook so much that their blood began to splatter on the gym floor.
For a moment, the villain could only stare at them.
Shit.
They didn’t know how to handle this. They knew the hero was dedicated. They knew the hero was strong, and perpetually trying to be stronger, but they hadn’t thought…
They hadn’t thought the hero would be so willing to tear apart their own body for success.
It was supposed to be fun, the villain thought. They felt a little sick as the hero pressed their palms together to soothe the bleeding, an action that was practiced and familiar. As if they had done this before.
The hero reached for something in their bag, smearing blood on the side, and pulled out a roll of blue electrical tape. The villain didn’t understand why, until the hero tore a strip off and made to wrap their hands with it.
The hero would be the death of them.
They crouched in front of the hero, plucking the electrical tape out of their hands.
“What are you doing with this?”
The hero blinked at the villain like they were the strange one in this situation.
“Wrapping my hands?”
The villain hissed in a breath.
“With electrical tape?”
The hero flushed slightly, looking down at their bloody hands. They looked close to tears.
“It…sticks to skin, really well. And it doesn’t move, either, when you move your hands or wherever else, even if you’re fighting. Plus, blood doesn’t make it come off, at least, not for a while.”
The villain blinked at them.”
“Blood doesn’t make it come off,” the villain repeated, processing. The hero nodded, reaching for the electrical tape. The villain settled it out of reach.
“Not if you wrap it right.”
Dimly, the villain realized that meant the hero had done this enough times to have it down to a science.
“And you couldn’t use a bandaid?” The villain asked incredulously. The hero shrugged a shoulder, then winced at the motion.
Yeah, the hero had absolutely blown out their arms.
“Bandaids move—“
The villain hushed them.
“Be quiet for a second.”
The hero, wisely, went quiet.
The villain rubbed a hand over their face, then studied the hero for a moment. They took one of the hero’s hands into their own, studying the damage.
“Why did you do this to yourself,” the villain murmured.
“What do you mean, why,” the hero snapped. “It’s my job.”
“Your job is to save people,” the villain corrected. “Not destroy yourself.”
“I’m not destroying myself—“
“You are.”
“Shut up—“
“Hero.”
“I need to be better,” the hero snapped. Their voice rang out across the gym, echoing into the rafters, and they both froze. After a moment, the hero spoke again, voice soft. “I need to be better.”
They said it like they needed the villain to understand. The villain wondered who they were really saying it to—the villain, or themself.
“Better than who?”
“Everyone.” It was hushed, like a secret.
The villain watched them, waiting.
The hero took a shaky breath
“My whole thing is being the best. I have always been the best. That’s the only reason I matter. If I’m not strong enough, then I am nothing, so I need. to be. better.”
The hero had started crying, very quietly, like they were afraid to take up too much space.
The villain was not equipped to handle gifted kid burnout.
“There’s more to you than just being a good athlete,” the villain said hesitantly, and the hero shook their head.
“No. There isn’t.”
“Hero.”
“Can you give me back my electrical tape?” They hiccuped to contain a sob.
“No,” the villain said firmly, and then the hero really was sobbing.
“You don’t understand—“
The villain didn’t. Not really. They had never been the kind of talented that the hero was.
They wondered now if maybe that was a blessing.
“I don’t,” the villain agreed. “But I do understand that you’ve saved half the city, and you give everything you have to give, and you always do your best.”
“But I-“
“No.” The villain stopped them. “You are doing your best.” They tipped the hero’s chin up until they met the villain’s eyes. “And it is enough.”
The hero froze, eyes darting over the villain’s face. They wondered if anyone had ever said that to the hero, if whatever mentor they had was giving them anything other than orders to be stronger. Be better. Be more.
The villain had some new targets to take care of, it would seem.
For now, though, they had to take care of hero.
“We’re going to go wrap your hands,” they said softly. “And then we’re going to take care of your arms, and you’re going to take a nap.”
The hero nodded, watching them like they were some kind of good, selfless person.
“And if I ever catch you using electrical tape again, so help me, I will put you six feet under.”
That startled a laugh out of the hero, and they let the villain guide them to their feet.
“Fine.”
The villain turned to them. “Okay?”
Are you going to be alright?
The hero seemed to understand.
“Okay,” the hero agreed.
Yes.
And so, it was.
#writing#writing community#snippet#angst#heroes and villains#ficlet#writblr#hero/villain#hero whumpee#exhaustion#overworked#villain caretaker#whump#kind of#in case you’re wondering. yes you CAN do this to yourself. it’s completely possible#essentially what happens is if you do a motion (a pull-up) more than your body is capable#it gets mad. this is different from training till failure. this is to failure and then beyond#so while you started using the correct muscle groups you those muscles get tired and despite the tired you don’t stop#so then your body switches to muscles it SHOULDNT BE USINF and then you fuck up your elbows (in the case of pull-ups)#and then you can’t straighten your arms for a week bc the ligaments and tendons and all the little movement parts want to keep it curled in#I’m not a doctor#I’m just a gifted kid who was an athlete who got burnt out and destroyed her body lmao#this is possibly maybe based on true events that occurred#anyways. I’m not a doctor but you can use electrical tape on wounds. yes it sticks. yes it stays. it’s honestly very useful.#electrical tape > bandaids#do not do anything listed here it is BAD. do not blow out your muscles it hurts. properly clean ur injuries. I beg you.#don’t get injured at all#thank you to my friend who went “pull-up’ competition and then watched me create this angst#love u besties. drink water. go to sleep. summon demons. ❤️ self care
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Wake up in the morning feelin’ like Stede Bonnet // The party still won't stop on The Revenge
For @bizarrelittlemew 💕 Show: Our Flag Means Death - Season 2 Music: TiK Tok by Kesha YouTube || Season 1 Version
#our flag means death#ofmd#ofmdaily#ofmdedit#ofmdsource#ofmd s2#gentlebeard#blackbonnet#crew of the revenge#stede bonnet#edward teach#ofmd edit#ofmd fanvid#ofmd video#ella’s edit#HAPPY BIRTHDAY IDA 💕#wishing you all the best and happiness and health and all the good things in this world!!#where would we be without you and your amazing gifs and fantastic fics and words of encouragement??#thank you for everything you do. you’re an amazing human and i’m very grateful we’ve become friends#ily!!! <3#since you’re the absolute number 1 fan of my ofmd tik tok edit i couldn’t think of a more fitting gift than a s2 version#i hope you enjoy!!!
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THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS BEAUTIFUL BDAY GIFT STARIS!!!! @thestartome
I have never received something so thoughtful and beautiful for my sims before and the fact that you took the time to create these beautiful earrings brought genuine tears to my eyes!! My wife had to console me, I'm so serious lol. You are an awesome friend and I am so very glad to have met you!! 🥹💜✨
Also, a sneak peek at the gorgeous bow Adie will own sometime in the near future, my favorite commission thus far courtesy of the amazingly gifted @thestartome
#cotf tag#cc gift#i love them 💖#thank you thank you thank you!!#ts4 simblr#sims 4 simblr#sims 4#guys im serious pls commission my friend if you can#the quality is amazing#Adie Briar#Edin Silversweater
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Post S4 Steddie featuring Russian-Hostage!Steve (again) and Ransom Notes Sent to His Family (!)—hilarious
...but is it?
Steve doesn’t remember getting drunk as fuck. In fact, he…
This doesn’t even feel like a hangover, not exactly. There’s the headache, the stomach-lurching, but there’s a, a weight almost. Something in his limbs that feels off and too stiff but also like noodles, if you could make noodles out of lead. This, this kinda feels like—
His hand goes automatically to his neck, near his jaw, tries to see if he can feel—
Ah. Okay. Yep. Already scabbed over the injection site. Must’ve been something else this time, like probably a bigger needle. Sedative to start, maybe. Like the appetizer course.
Steve starts chuckling to himself—no off-the-books truth serum needed to get hysterical, not this time—as he tosses himself to lying back down, only then really clocking the cuffs on his wrists and, well.
At least he’s not in a fucking sailor suit.
——
When he calms down, and no one’s come for him into his very unexciting grey-stone cell for enough minutes to trust in a lull, at least, where he can just…just try and think?
He does in fact think he’s got something of an outline for maybe, like, the first leg of the story: they had to have gotten him after work.
Probably right after work, between locking up and getting to his car. He closed alone last nigh—
Well. The last time he remembers being at Family Video, he was closing alone. If he’s waking up drugged, it’s probably not super smart to just assume it was ‘last night’ by default.
Not that he’s sure it even matters, but.
Everyone knew he was closing. And everyone, except his boyfriend and sometimes Robs, knows to leave him be for a good twelve-to-twenty-four hours to recover when he’s soloing for the late shift on a weekend. Fucking brutal, honestly. Plus there’s a stormfront on the way and he’s had a migraine brewing at the back of his skull for days that was due to explode the minute he clocked out. Rob’s in Chicago scoping colleges, wasn’t gonna be back until midday after his shift anyway. Eddie was doing the same, but in Indy, looking to book gigs—he’d get back around sunup, probably, and he might come by as his first stop home, in fact he usually does and...
If anyone’s noticed Steve’s missing? Or will, maybe soon?
Might…might actually be Eddie, first.
Steve feels…more than a little tight in the chest, in his throat, having to think about it; imagining if the tables were turned.
So he shifts tacks, moves quick to trying and figure out what the fuck he’s been abducted for in the first place—yeah they’re gearing up for the eventual final showdown with Vecna, but once the ash stopped raining, and the sky went back to generally regular colors, and the government paid to fill in enough of the ‘earthquake’ damage for the roads that were still drivable to be noticeably better than they were pre-apocalypse? People generally calmed down, so. He really doesn’t know who the fuck’s got it out for him. He actually hasn’t broken his NDA, particularly considering he doesn’t even socialize with anyone anymore who hasn’t signed one themselves, and therefore doesn’t count on the subject of keeping to the terms of service, and honestly? Even peak-Vecna with his clock bullshit didn’t have a real-world army to do his bidding because, like: shit. That’s still the thing he’s pissy about, right? So.
It’s not like whoever’s-got-him-chained-up-because-if-anything-they’re-more-serious-about-imprisonment-than-he’s-encountered-before—but whoever they are, Steve cannot for the life of him figure out a good reason for them to be after him on Upside Down business.
So, like: the fuck, you know?
He’s trying to figure out property damage, like did he ruin someone’s prize roses when he was driving that RV, or else; was the couple who owned that RV, like, retired assassins and they’d been gearing up for revenge this whole time? That was plausibl—
The door—thicker, heavier than Steve actually was guessing—swings open with a godawful screech before he can weigh the likelihoods of the wife, or husband, or both having been secretly cold-blooded-killers, and in walks…
Oh. Oh, so…it is actually that predictable. Same script, different scenery.
Because Steve knows that fucking uniform, and it’s actually involuntary, swear to god, the way he sighs.
He gets slapped for it, which would hurt less than the first go around—those gut shots had been brutal—if the asshole hadn’t been wearing rings.
Not nice ones like Eddie’s, either. Ones meant to fucking tear skin and peel at the layers beneath it, too. Bear down to the bone, if given the time.
Steve feels the blood drip down toward his mouth, but there’s enough that he tastes it on the air before it even rolls past his lips. He’s panting a little, more for the sake of the impact, like the shock of it, but even then he hears it. The…weird whirring through the open door and he tries to catch his breath so he can focus, because there’s something…familiar about it, something he should know—
“Who do you work for?”
He snaps back to what’s in front of him and fuck, god, so: same script.
But, but: literally.
He instinctively curls his fingernails against his palms; knee jerk reaction. And fucking justified, too.
“Video store,” Steve answers because, what else, and good thing he’s still wearing his vest, was taking it home to wash because it smelled too much like…store. He nods down at the logo on his chest, pulled awkward and lying askew but pretty goddamn clear. “Like VHS tapes. Movies.”
He gets another slap. He’s grateful for even more reasons that Robin’s not with him this time. They’re not even proper Russian cinephiles, she’d be so offended on principle.
“I mean,” Steve decides in a split second to play along, to roll the dice with his chances on his lonesome and be grateful—and maybe because the thought of Robin, following the thought of Eddie and his rings, all weaves together to make him bold, but also make him desperate: he doesn’t want them in danger. Doesn’t want anyone goaded by these bastards into coming for him, wherever he is, and getting themselves hurt. Or worse.
So: maybe goading this captors into thinking he’s not worth the time anymore and making this quick?
Maybe that’s the card he’s gotta play.
“I’m guessing you think I know shit because of Starcourt,” and yep. Eyes get big for that being slid across the metaphorical table so casual. But Steve’s more impressed at himself because the minute he says it? The humming sound, the whirring? It clicks.
It’s what he heard in that underground lab. With that machine. With them trying to, to tear open—
“I don’t, for the record, know anything, Steve clarifies; “but if I’m like, missing for too long? My friends are gonna flip, and last time my friends were with me, y’know, so this time,” Steve sucks at his front teeth and shakes his head, and it fools them while it grounds him: two-for-one.
“They’ll freak, basically. Especially after last time,” his boldness lasts him through tossing his captors—maybe torturers—a judgmental quirk of his brow.
“Probably gonna tell Hopper like, y’know, chief of police,” he adds, blames Eddie for the theatricality buried in it as he purses his lips and nods like he’s considering; tries not to dwell on a deeper reason for why these bastards are letting him talk—nope. Nope, shove those thoughts down, just keep talking yourself, ignore the steady trickle of blood down to his tongue as he yaps.
“And Hopper, hell, it’s not his first rodeo, so he’ll probably call the suits,” Steve presses on Because what else does he have, what else can he do, he can barely fucking move; “you know, like you,” he nods at the medals on the very Soviet-style uniform; “but the American version. He’s got friends. So.”
And Steve manages to stare the fucker down, just eye-to-eye as the man scowls, glances at his associate standing closer to the door and—
Yep: yep. Another slap with those rings. Steve can’t pretend the blood’s not spilling from the line where the impact dug out his skin. He’s glad there’s no mirror; can only imagine what it looks like.
Sure as fuck knows what it feels like.
“I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know,” Steve doesn’t even think he’s trying to reason with them, wonders idly if he’s like, some Russian-identified spokesman now for all things spy-y and otherworldly, like if his picture’s on a cork board with strings going around it as the number-one suspect-slash-target-to-pump-for-nonexistent-info.
Fucking fantastic.
“I work for a video store, dude,” he finishes with, and it doesn’t even come out desperate, or pleading—it’s way closer to resigned.
“We will see.”
The man grabs Steve’s chin rough, too rough and for a second? Steve’s a little afraid he’s gonna try to snap his neck but he just shoved him back, straight into the wall—cracks his spine a little, but. Actually, given his limited range of motion, it kinda gets out at least a couple kinks. Huh.
Silver linings, or whatever.
But then they’re leaving, and something leaps in Steve chest uncomfortably, just as something sinks in his stomach and the whirring, the hum from beyond the door sinking with it, too—ominous—and he’s lunging against his restraints without thinking, cringing for the bite of the metal but there’s…something in him wants more time with these people. To figure them out. Maybe just to stall for time or find the one last straw to break and get himself beaten to death, no longer a threat to his friends by proxy.
“We have Sour Patch Kids, now!” Steve calls out on a freak instinct, a stupid desperate whim as they walk out, maybe more to drown out the whirring, the pit that’s opening in his stomach for all the memories its familiarity dredges up; “can totally hook you guys up!”
The door shakes the air somehow, but not the walls, or Steve’s chains, when it slams closed and Steve can’t hear the machine anymore, it’s all cut off and—
Holy shit, Steve is so fucked.
——
They keep sliding sandwiches and water through a hole they literally lock and unlock in the thick-as-fuck-special-soundproof door. Steve is reminded weirdly—or not, it all looks perfectly normal—but given the circumstances, he thinks he’s justified to be thrown back to that lime-green battery acid they’d considered drinking in the elevator: and that, probably more than anything, is why he refuses to touch a single bit of what’s shoved into his cell.
Well: that and then also the fact that no one actually comes in for a long stretch of time, and there’s no noise, save for…the hum. Only when they open the little hatch for food, at first but…then it increases. Then it somehow overrides what Steve imagines to be a pretty fucking effective insulation job to make everything thus far so soundproofed; so deadened. The fact that it even bleeds through a little sinks sicker in his stomach than hunger ever could.
Because definitely, one-hundred-percent, in case there’s been any doubts hanging on: it’s the machine, the thing they were using before to rip holes in…the world. As if Hawkins needed any more but—
The Russians want to know who he works for, and they’re trying to unleash the Upside Down. Again.
Jesus Christ.
It might be comical, the repetition after everything, with even less reason—the gates have been shut and sealed now almost a full year and shit, the whole party had been banging on about a cookout to celebrate, to sneak in one good thing before it was time to strike against Vecna for the last time, and Steve really hopes they don’t abandon the well-earned party for the sake of his imminent demise but, point is: it would be comical, almost definitely, if it weren’t so fucking horrifying.
They thought this was over. This part at least, the peripherals. Steve was the last real holdout to be on high alert, everyone was trusting in the alert system that was El and Will and even him and Eddie a little bit from the bats, all connected to some degree with activity in the Upside Down and everyone else was counting on that and trying to live in the middle while they could and…shit.
Look where it got Steve, giving in to the hope for an end in sight, and maybe even a happy one at that.
It runs sick through his veins, now that he’s thinking about it, about any of the possible outcomes and ramifications beyond this cell and…basically Steve’s glad he hasn’t trusted a bite or a sip of anything they’ve left him, lest he have to endure anything worse than dry heaving in captivity.
——
Eveually, Steve goes back to counting out the positives. It’s a fairly safe subject. Morbid, maybe, but what else has he got?
His friends aren’t here. He’s lonely, but honestly, even if that’s a part of his life that’s seen major improvement the past couple years? It’s not something he isn’t used to, can’t work with. But if his friends aren’t here? They’re safe. El or Will can tell there’s something weird with the Upside Down if the machine gets powerful enough, they’ll all be able to come up with a plan and strike when the time’s right, and Steve…
Steve can survive a little longer, at least as a distraction, even if he’s apparently a shitty one since people aren’t coming in to ask about the latest new releases, or smack his other cheek and give him a matching set of bloody gouges.
The machine, also—and why he figures he might not outlive the time it takes for the others to notice a disturbance in the Force—ha, they’re not even here to appreciate his wholly unprompted and almost definitely correct nerd reference, but that’s good: they’re not here, they’re safe—but the machine is humming, and turned on? But even at a distance it should be louder. It should be louder to destroy the world.
They’re not there yet. They’re not there yet; there’s still time, and Steve may not be there to help everyone fight, to protect them but—
There’s time.
And then like, of course, full circle: no Scoops uniform, check—those shorts bunched up his ass like nobody’s business. He cannot forget that as a massive plus, here, because come on, think about it: decked out like a shitty ice cream sailor on an ocean of flavor, Jesus.
Just a flat out shitty way to have to die.
——
“We have sent the ransom demands.”
Steve blinks; he was kinda spacing out. He probably shouldn’t be able to do that. The machine isn’t any louder—yet—but it’s…ambient, in a way.
Morbid, probably. Again.
The lack of eating or drinking might be getting to him. He really should have eaten before his shift.
“The what?” Steve blinks some more because…maybe if he can see clearer he can hear the words in a way that’ll make sense.
Jesus fuck, he should probably start being concerned about his…overall cognitive function or whatever, at this point.
Or something.
“You are a rich man,” the main bastard, with the rings, looms over Steve with a skeevy little grin, cracks his knuckles and how, he’s watched Eddie struggle because it’s so hard to get your fingers in the right position to do it with rings on—
“You’ve got the wrong guy, pal, look at these shoes,” Steve shakes his head while he kicks his feet out: “very last season.”
They’re still fucking excellent shoes, but. High-school-him wouldn’t have been caught dead in them.
Ha. Haha. Graduated-useless-townie-him is gonna get caught dead in them. Ha.
Add that to the positives list, because irony is sometimes funny. He listens when Robin tells him about her boring-ass art movies. Because Robin’s opinions matter, regardless of the topic.
“Property records,” the lackey who stands behind points out and it takes Steve a second to catch up…rich man. Property records.
Ransom note—
Oh fuck, but he cannot help himself. He snorts.
And then he laughs hard enough that both his captors actually look concerned which: fair. If he had information, it’s probably hard to wring anything useful out of somehow who’s totally lost their mind.
“Dude,” Steve wheezes, and then gets back to cackling because it’s too funny, just the picture in his head—
“Dude, no,” he shakes his head over and over and gets a little dizzy but who can even blame him. Richard and Amelia Harrington, paying their failure of a son’s ransom to the Russians?!
Fuck, they’d be better off putting up a shitty politician and soliciting their donations. Like the whole thing with mayor what’s-his-face.
Steve really doesn’t need any black market drugs to find it hilarious and, like, honestly.
Going out laughing isn’t the worst way to die, so. Seriously.
Mark that down for topping the list of goddamn positives.
——
He doesn’t actually know how long it’s been, but the time does come where he gives in, and is therefore eating the morning and the afternoon sandwiches he’s been left—they don’t take the uneaten stuff until he’s sleeping, given that he’s never seen them do it and the old food’s always gone. He’s only guessing that he gets three plates a day, and…well. He remembers something Erika said about three days without water being the limit for the human body and it sure as fuck felt like it, and poison seemed a better alternative than thirst as reasons for kicking the bucket, so.
Least it wasn’t the neon acid; little mercies. Gotta remember that.
But on an empty stomach it had gone down easy and quick for desperation, but fuck if now it didn’t hurt which: in for a penny, or whatever the saying was. He didn’t understand it. Just knew it fit the situation. Kinda.
Probably.
He’s curled up now, though, kinda moaning super pathetically, almost loud enough to drown out the machine’s hum even, for the way his stomach roils and he tries to distract himself; tries to think…
He is just clearheaded enough to recognize how morbid he’s being, again—but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. And also it’s relevant, so fuck you, morbid-police.
But: Max’s letters. They’re what comes to mind.
He doesn’t have paper. Or a pen. Or something to etch into the floor with. So it’s just a…thought exercise. That’s what they’re called, right?
Whatever. Distraction. He cannot die covered in his own puke, that’s one bridge too far, so he needs to focus. Not on the state of his intestines.
So…start with, who should he start with?
Hmm. Hmmmmmm.
El. She’ll figure things out first so:
Dear El
Solid start. Good job, Steve.
You are fucking extraordinary, and it’s not for being able to move stuff with your mind. You’re so strong, and brave, and selfless. I look up to you. I like when they call you Supergirl, but, like, those are the reasons why. Keep finding reasons for laughing, remember you’re entitled to extra because of all the dark years you came back stronger from. Remember the way you are and the way you think and the things you do are awesome and you don’t have to relearn anything you don’t want to, or change anything you don’t want to, to fit in. People should be trying to be more like you.
Love you, Supergirl.
P.S. there’s a freezer in the basement fucking loaded with Eggos. All yours.
Hey. That’s a solid letter. He’s not bad at this.
Then his stomach lurches and apparently he’s not even allowed to celebrate his wins, okay, fucking cool.
Who’s next, who’s next…
Dear Dustin, and maybe that’s the best way; this is gonna hurt like hell just thinking about so maybe, like, that’s the best way to distract himself.
Okay. Okay. All or nothing.
You die, I die was a general feeling, thing, not a real thing. So take care of yourself, for real, okay? Lean on people. If the other shitheads aren’t what you need, turn to Robin. Turn to Eddie. Promise me you’ll be everything you’re meant to be. I’m so proud to know you, man, always. All the things about you are things worth being proud of.
Talk to Eddie about tone, though. Like, when the time’s right.
Thanks for being the first person to show me what family’s really like, what it’s supposed to be. You’re mine, y’know. Like, you’re my brother, but then, you’re also my friend. Thanks for that, too. I love you, man.
P.S. They discontinued The Hairspray. Be on the lookout for a good replacement, and conserve what you have for special occasions.
The cuts on his cheeks are apparently not yet healed over enough not to burn when the tears streak through. Awesome.
Definitely fucking distracting so…run with it, he guesses.
Dear Max,
Thanks for the idea.
Cop out. Absolute cop out. He means it, this is helpful, he hasn’t barfed yet which is really the point but.
He’s being a coward, now. Seriously.
It needs to hurt. If he actually put himself into writing Max’s it’d be ugly, but…
Go big or go home. And he’s never going home again, is he, so:
Dear Robin
Fuck. Fuck, his breath catches with just those two words.
I’m really glad we never figured out how to meld into a single being, because I don’t want you here when…you know. When.
But I wish you were here in a safe way, if that makes sense, and somehow were possible. They don’t call them soulmates for no reason. And I never called you mine without meaning it.
If there’s anything after, I will miss you through all of it with everything I am and hope like hell when the time’s right—like at least 90 years from now and no less, you understand?—I get to see you again. Maybe then we can work on the melding thing and get it right.
I liked being your dingus. So much. And I will always be your capital-P soulmate.
I’m sorry.
He doesn’t even remember his stomach hurting from the sandwiches, anymore, or drinking the water too fast. He’s sick for so much bigger reasons, now. Everything fucking hurts.
That’s the point, he reminds himself, that’s the point, so:
Dear Eddie—
He chokes on the air, just for the thought, because here’s the tipping point. Here’s where he breaks.
He can’t. He can’t.
He loves all of them. All of them.
But he’s only in love with one. Like he’s never loved before. Like he’s never been loved back before, not ever.
He doesn’t know if it’s possible to pass out from heartache, or if it’s more the not eating, or drinking, or if he’s feverish, maybe the cuts on his cheeks from the rings are infected and he’s on borrowed time in more ways than one.
Doesn’t matter. He can’t write a letter to Eddie, not even in his head. And he doesn’t want to think about what it means, such a nonexistent-mental-letter.
Someone told him once that if you were falling to your death, you’d pass out before impact. Like…like self-preservation in your last few seconds or something.
Steve thinks—with the way everything fades to black in seemingly seconds—he thinks this is…kinda like that.
So the big question now is:
DOES HE SURVIVE? SHOULD HE GET RESCUED?!?!
*chews nails, or hair, or—*
yeah, like that
For @devondespresso, who requested 'Nightmares' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST (sorry it's in the contexts of LIVING ONE OUT) and incidentally also for @steddie-week for the Day Two prompt 'Hands' (which okay if you DO NOT want a rescue it's only in mean violent ways but...he could be rescued)
✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson @theheadlessphilosopher @lawrencebshoggoth @mensch-anthropos-human
divider credits here
ao3 link here ✨
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#established steddie#whump#steve whump#hurt/comfort#happy ending IF YOU WANT ONE—see notes at the end#kidnapping#(yes it's the russians again)#post S4#kidnapped!steve#the russians try to get steve's family to pay a ransom for him#steve lol's hard at that because come on no his parents would NOT#steve's just happy his friends are safe (mostly—like: for now)#(steve's definitely operating under some false assumptions here—you feel me?)#steve writes goodbye letters in his head#thanks for the idea madmax#stranger things#gift fic#devondespresso#hitlikehammers' hobbit-birthday prompt fest#hitlikehammers v words#hitlikehammers writes#steddieweek2024
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I don't have words to express all my emotions and gratitude for these gorgeous and lovely gifts that @isaidmeeh and @romy350-romyakari did for my birthday!
I'm madly in love with these drawings and I'm definitely going to print and keep them together with all my AF comics UWU
I still can't believe you took some of your time to make these epic drawings for me! I feel BLESSED! 🙏✨
Check their other page and socials!!
@romy350-romyakari-works
@/isaidmeeh - Instagram & Vk
#thank you both from the bottom of my heart! ❤️#now I will spend a lot of time looking at them smiling like an idiot#this is like a super mega booster!!#which is something I really need in this period!#angels friends swap au#anna angels friends swap au#angels friends comics#raf#sulfus#angelsfriends#angels friends#angel's friends#af mefisto#af gas#kabale#cabiria#beautiful#gift art#artists on tumblr
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Yennefer, Geralt’s friend and coworker, was acting… weird. She kept smiling over nothing. And her temper wasn’t as volatile. And she brought pastries to their last meeting.
They weren’t the kind of people to talk about their personal lives, but Geralt was getting worried. What if she had a head injury or a tumor?
When Geralt asked if anything out of the ordinary happened recently, Yennefer admitted that she met someone. They weren’t dating, but she was pretty sure there was mutual attraction. They worked at the bakery Yennefer bought the pastries from. Apparently, they were “bubbly”.
Geralt couldn’t imagine Yennefer with anyone bubbly, but what did he know? He had never personally experienced the whole “opposites attract” thing, but it was a thing for a reason.
The following week, Geralt was sent (he got the short straw) to get pastries for the office from that same bakery. He wasn’t too displeased to go. He was curious about whoever caught Yennefer’s attention. Yennefer hadn’t described them in detail, but they were bubbly and named after a flower.
Geralt’s eyes were drawn to Jaskier the moment he stepped into the bakery. Not just because the man greeted him when he entered but also because he was VERY pretty. And friendly. He seemed unfazed by Geralt’s huge frame and resting scowl.
Maybe Geralt could see why Yennefer was drawn to this pretty, friendly man. He was still a bit surprised that Yennefer doesn’t mind the chatter. Geralt was surprised that he himself wasn’t annoyed by the chatter.
Well, Jaskier did have a nice voice.
Geralt then buys the pastries and leaves. It’s only when he was returning to the office that he noticed a number on written on the back of his receipt.
Fuck.
Yennefer’s crush gave him his number! Surely, the moral thing to do would be to throw away the receipt and tell Yennefer. But Geralt couldn’t bring himself to do either. He didn’t text the number, but he was tempted. He kept thinking about Jaskier.
It wasn’t too long before Yennefer told Geralt that she had a date with Triss Marigold.
Who?
Apparently, Triss Marigold was a bubbly woman who worked at the bakery. And she was the person Yennefer was interested in.
Huh.
That evening, Geralt sent a text to Jaskier.
I love love love love love love love this!!! What a gift you've given me, my darling!
#thank you for this 100 days as mutuals anniversary gift#geraskier#the witcher#geralt x jaskier#geralt x dandelion#geralt loves his bard!#witcher fanfiction#fanfiction prompts#writing prompts#strangers to lovers#strangers to friends to lovers#bakery au#Baker Jaskier#Baker Triss Merigold#Triss X Yennefer#Yennefer and Geralt are friends#Jaskier falls in love with Geralt at first sight#Just like canon#modern au#different meeting au#alternate meeting
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Tiny Adorable Bill Phone Charms from my friend @bexatthedesk who sent these to me as a lovely gift! I love them so much!
You can get the 1" inch one here if you want one! :D
#gravity falls#bill cipher#gravity falls collection#friends art#a lovely little gift#thank you bex!!! love ya!
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