#get real gang

[d4ydream-girl]

comments from smosh cast + crew on shourtney's wedding post!!

ft. mythical, thomas sanders, macdoesit, and www.chess.com?? lol

[thehealingsystem]

if you ever wonder why I don't interact with the traumagenic community as a traumagenic system this is why

[24601orwhatever]

KYLE ADAMS as GRANTAIRE

mastered by @bikinibottomdayz

[somegrumpynerd]

Do you think it bothers Dust that Killer doesn't seem to have any remorse for doing the same things that haunt him in a very literal way? Do you think it bothers Killer that Dust pretends not to feel anything when he's lost the luxury of feeling? Do you think it bothers Horror to hear that Cross was raised with his Alphys like a sister when his betrayed him? Do you think it bothers Cross that Horror is part of the gang when he still has an au and people to go back to, where Cross feels like he'll never have his again? Do you think Nightmare gets them all happy meals when they've been good?

[grechsblog]

inspired by that one other vien diagram

[arthursfuckinghat]

I'm at that part of chapter three my friends, so let me be a reminder that Colm O'Driscoll's plan to lure in Dutch after taking Arthur failed because nobody came looking for him.

He would have died being held captive any longer, he barely escaped.

The gang did not come for Arthur.

[casualavocados]

If anyone allows Zhang Teng to get in again, I'll kill them!

AI DI + talking about & attitude towards death KISEKI: DEAR TO ME (2023)

[icthyarch]

I rarely patch sleeves and think I ought to more!! difficult to predict quite where the patch will lay on the arm. Playing with colourful stitching vs colourful patches.

Relistening to 90's soaps and podcasts, too scattered to list them all!

[triglycercule]

love the idea of horror and dust just absolutely doing the bare fucking minimum if they got "recruited" (definitely abducted or offered a deal that really fucks them over). because if they're forced to be there they might as well not try

nightmare would tell horror to cook for the other dumbasses he hires because apparently people need to EAT??? jokes on him because all horror makes is some burnt steak. horror actually doesn't know how to cook that well so he heated up a pan, poured a shitton of oil into it and threw the beef into the pan. he immediately began to pray when he saw the oil explosion (dw he still ate that 🤢🤢)

dust would make it his life's goal to be as annoying to nightmare as the human was to him. he leaves dirty socks everywhere. probably more than just dirty socks everywhere actually and aint nobody in the castle cleaning that shit up so nightmare has to deal with dust's dirty laundry everywhere. there's a coincidentally large pile of dirty shirts in the hall leading to his office

missions are the absolute worst for the fake octopus mafia leader. dust stands there and speaks with the most monotonous "get me the hell out of here so i can nap" voice. horror just scratches his head and looks around all confused as if he's a dementia patient that forgot what he was doing. horror's axe is "coincidentally" not sharpened. dust is putting in so little effort into fighting that his eyelights are still white and not even red and cyan. nightmare is very much so pissed at these two slackers

[violetvulpini]

Proto kept saying weird shit and one day Roll decided to start demanding explanations. It did not clarify things.

[Transcript below because my handwriting sucks]

Roll: Alright, time out!

(Mega: Do you mind?)

Roll: What does that mean? Do you even know what gender means?

Proto: Heh, duh! Gender is just some dumb things human made up. And totally not my problem!

Mega: ...What? But you're a boy. That's not made up.

Proto: I'm a robot.

Roll: Okay, but you call Mega brother and me sister. Why's that?

Proto: Easy! I want to kill Mega, and you want to kill me.

Mega: No-- okay, what gender are Dr. Light and Wily? They're human.

Proto: They're scientists. (nods nods)

Mega: UGH

(Roll: hmm)

Proto: Can we fight now?

Roll: One more: What do you think humans made up gender for?

Proto: Psh. Movies, obviously.

Mega and Roll: Movies???

Proto, triple threat: I'm going to kill you.

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Kitten Lair

Hello I am back! @spotaus get in here friend!

And I know... I know... a bit earlier in the timeline again but i had an idea :D

:D :D :D

Because i am weak! :D

timeline wise: Nightmare got changed into a child like three and a half months ago in this drabble. so the gang has been in farmtale for two weeksish.

first drabble prev drabble next drabble

No beta! We going :D

*-------------------------*

Ccino pauses the clenaing of the counter as he waits impatiently for the last customer to leave. He loves and adores his cat cafe but it is already past 5 and he has been passive aggressively cleaning the tables around them.

Luckily the customers finish up soon after and leave with a cheerful wave.

Ccino rushes to turn the open sign to closed and turns off the main lamps. He closes the roll curtains and gets to work on cleaning the last table.

He however waits with cleaning the coffee machine, just in case.

Ccino keeps glancing at the enterance as he goes about cleaning up the cat toys and hearding the cats out of the kitchen once again. He fills their food bowls and puts fresh water into the water bowls and water fountains.

A glance at the clock shows that it is already half past six and Ccino sighs again.

No show again.

one of the cats stares at him and mews. Ccino glances over and knows it is Berry. He chuckles nad pets him "I dunno little Berry. Maybe I am overreacting..."

He can't help it. Ccino had just gotten used to having Nightmare visit once a week.

Many would proabbly tell him to tell the Stars. to make it obvious something was wrong. There had to be after all with Nightmare visiting.

Except that all Nightmare would do at first was study the cats. Ccino had once managed to collect all his courage, which wasn't a lot mind you, and ask Nightmare what he was doing.

Nightmare had looked at him before answering calmly. That he wanted to study the cats.

Ccino had been very worried. Mostly because there was one small detail about his cafe that people just seemed to ignore. there were the normal cats. the cats that ccino took in and helped find new owners for.

Then there were the special cats. the cats he would never let anyone adopt.

How do you explain that the reason a cat has blue fur is because the cat is somehow connected to an important player in the multiverse?

Yeah. He can't explain that.

Yet... none of the cross-multiverse customers ever seemed to notice. And that is saying something as the cats are not subtle!

But... Nightmare hadn't been here for that. He would always come after closing. He would just spend his time watching the cats interact and play togehter. And then he would leave after an hour.

Ccino had watched him watch them. Taking note that Nightmare never once actually reached out to touch them, even after the cats had gone over to investigate him!

he had pointed it out to nightmare once. just to see. mentioned that the cat near him now really liked pets. Nightmare had frowned slightly before slowly and so carefully petting the cat near him.

That had been a turning point. it is just... it is hard to see someone as evil and unredeemable when he just stared in wonder at a cat who accepted his petting.

Nightmare would keep coming by and Ccino would start to ask him what he wanted drink or food wise. Nightmare had been confused but Ccino had just pointed out the cafe part of the whole situation.

Nightmare would always order the same two things. An ice coffee with a lot of cream and sugar and the white chocolate cheesecake.

He would sit in a chair and just pet the cats that seemed to follow him around.

Nightmare meeting his own cat had been a sight to behold honestly. Noot had sneaked into the area without Ccino noticing only to have Nightmare suddenly have his own cat version licking his skull as if Noot had been planning on licking the goop away.

Trying to keep Noot or any of the gang cats away from Nightmare had been a struggle and eventually Ccino just gave up. He let the special cats near the outcode and nothing bad happened. Nightmar ejust petted the cats that came near him and left the ones who didn't alone.

Ccino sighs and turns off the coffee machine when it hits seven.

He is worried.

Which is stupid! There is no reason why Ccino should be worried about Nightmare! Maybe the other is just busy or something!

But here he is. waiting anxiously for one of his favourite customers to return.

Yes Ccino knows it is weird to grow slightly protective over a god but people just don't get it. Seeing someone interact with animals can change your perspective of someone and the way Nightmare just seemed so fascinated and mystified by the cats? Ccino can't explain how the wonder was just something he hadn't seen on just any customers. Nightmare had looked like he was only learning about cats for the first time in his life.

Ccino shakes his skull and focusses on the cats. he quickly finds Noot and their newest arrival.

Ccino smiles "Hey there Noot. How is your little friend doing?"

Noot opens his one eye and looks up before moving one of his four tails and revealing the little kitten that had just appeared.

Ccino has a good idea of who this little cat is. He had heard the rumours going around. About Dust and Cross having been spotted with a tiny babybones.

Ccino figures that is the kitten. Still strange that Noot was the one to first show up wiht the kitten just riding his back. It wasn't until a while later that the others in the cat gang got invested in the kitten, Dust- euh. Murder was first. Murder would pick the kitten up and go towards a spot and lazily clean the ktiten in the warm sunlight. Killer- well Stain was next. He went all up in Murder's business to get near the kitten. All while Noot just watched over them. Rust had been next and made sure to bring food to the tiny kitten. Rust never seemed to mind the ktiten playing even if it hit the headwound. Oreo was last but was now all over the kitten. staying near and watching continuously.

Another curious thing. How the five adult cats made sure to keep the new kitten far away from any of the other cats. a few tried and Ccino had been worried Murder would live up to his name for a moment there.

Ccino smiles nad pets Noot "Maybe that is why he hasn't visited... I am going to assume you are the baby's main babysitter with how often you are clsoe to the kitten."

It is just.. Noot has been getting slower and weaker. it may not be obvious to others but it was obvious to Ccino. the way Noot tended to hide more. ate less. spend more time just laying around instead of stalking others. How Noot would no longer climb to high places and just stay near the ground.

It is worrisome.

But Ccino has no idea what to do with this information... In matter of fact everyone seemed happy about the fact that the gang was quiet.

Ccino carefully strokes the soft fur of Noot "I am sorry i can't help more."

Noot however looks fully calm as he pushes his skull into the hand for a pet before turning back to the kitten and cleaning him.

Ccino follows the sight. It is a pretty little kitten alright. A beautiful black coat which seems to shine a slight purple in the direct sunlight. soft purple eyes and just the cutest little pink nose and pink toebeans.

The tiny kitten mews uphappily as Noot cleans him. some of that very soft fur sticking up from the cleaning.

Ccino sighs as he pets the older cat, noting that the sharp eyes seemed duller as well, before going to check the other cats. seeing the four other cats join their leader and kitten.

Ccino tries to calm himself as he goes back to the kitchen to finish cleaning and preparing.

everything is going to be okay.

*-------------------------*

Look. I am not gonna lie. I am weak for Ccino and Nightmare having been friends :D

first drabble prev drabble next drabble

[crimeronan]

the magic of writing characters with C-PTSD who don't know they have C-PTSD is that you end up with one main narrator who's like "why am i going to pieces now that my abuser is dead??? he is DEAD, i am FINE, i am NORMAL and i HAVE OTHER STUFF TO WORRY ABOUT" you have another main narrator who's like "why are you telling me to put my paranoia gun away??? are you out to get me and everyone i care about???" and you have a third main narrator who's like "why am i MORE scared of my mom now that i'm living away from her than i was when i lived at home??? this doesn't make any sense, she doesn't have any power over me. what's wrong with me???"

and in all three cases, the answer is simply.

waow <3

this is your brain on trauma <3

[disegnidipizzo]

they ate purple gogurt since they were six... :(

intellect | psyche (you're here!) | physique | motorics

[elle-thereafter]

Somewhere, without knowing why, the de Rolo family is sleeping just a little easier now that Laudna and Imogen have bumped them off the top of Delilah Briarwood's vengeance hit list. Canonically Delilah had several contingencies for being killed, but being trapped in a gem and puppeted by her own undead warlock is gonna be an infuriating head-scratcher one assumes she was not so well prepared for.

[flowercrowngods]

🤍🌷 @stevesbipanic and @the-winged-doe asked to see ugly unpolished unrefined words, soo—

cw & tags: past major character death, grief, attempted time-travel fix-it(s), eddie&robin besties || potential wip

Eddie takes a long drag of his cigarette, the biting hot smoke hitting the back of his throat and clawing its way into his lungs, going as deep as he allows and leaving a permanent mark that brings neither relief nor calmness tonight. His fingers shake where they’re pressed to his lips, but the rest of him is unmoving where he sits on the front porch of their new trailer. 

It’s quiet out here. It’s always quiet in Hawkins these days, the city a fucking ghosttown. 

And he knows it’s not because of the one they lost. He knows it’s not because of him. But still the emptiness is stark and the silence oppressivem more so than it ever has been. 

Everyone still looks for him, months later. Dustin still begins to speak, cutting himself off mid-sentence, and Robin still stands with enough space to either side, like she expects him to just show up and invade her space like the home he made for himself in there. 

And somewhere among all that is Eddie. With his very own history. Or, non-history, as it turns out. But history and non-history leave wounds alike, and the memories feel just as real. A small mercy, at the end of the day, for them to feel real when they’re all he has left anymore. 

He takes another drag, not quite exhaling before he obliterates the cigarette and fishes for a new one before the butt even hits the ground. 

Fumbling with the lighter in his pocket, he only gets as far as placing the butt between his lips before a hand snakes into his field of vision to snag it from his mouth. 

“Hey,” he complains halfheartedly but makes no attempt at getting it back, watching instead as Robin comes up to sit beside him, grimacing at the stink of tobacco that must be heavy around him. 

“You’re disgusting,” she says with no real heat behind her words.

Eddie shrugs, because yeah, sure. He’s been called worse things. Robin’s called him worse things. This is her being nice. Her complaininig about his incessant smoking is nothing new. What is new is what she does next, placing the cigarette between her own lips and reaching for the light he’s been holding in a loose grip since she arrived. 

She starts coughing immediately, pulling a face at the disgusting feeling of smoke in her lungs and tobacco on her tongue. But she keeps going. Eddie can only watch in surprise and mild horror. 

“These things’ll kill you,” he says then in an echo of her usual sentiment, aware that he sounds as bewildered as he feels. 

“Well,” Robin says, aiming for casual, but quickly interrupted by a wheeze and a cough that’s almost adorable. “Let them try.” 

Eddie huffs, a pale little smile lingering on his lips as he leans back against the stairs behind him, resting his weight on his forearm to watch her. There is something captivating about her. Eddie always wonders what it is, wants to study her forever. 

Maybe it’s only the lingering traces of Everything Steve Harrington that clings to her every breath, her every move, her every fucking cell, with how much he was a part of her and she of him. Maybe it’s their shared grief that has made Eddie fall a bit in love with her and with the way the moonlight catches in her hair and in the smoke wafting from her cigarette. 

But somehow he refuses to believe that all he loves about her is merely the memory of Steve. 

Robin, in turn, is kind enough to let him stare. Kind enough to let him find out what it is between them. If this friendship is more than a misguided projection of grief and mourning and trauma; more than co-dependence and the obsessive will to keep this one person in your life. This one person who understands. 

After a while of Robin just holding the cigarette between her fingers, becuase no matter how strong her will to self destruct, she never quite got it right with the smoking, Eddie snatches it back before it goes to waste completely. As if pulled in by a string attached to his hollowed out chest, Robin leans back and into him in one smooth motion. It’s too calculated, though, and Eddie can feel how much she sags once she doesn’t have to hold herself up anymore. 

He’ll hold her. It’s fine. She gets to rest if she wants to. God knows she needs it. 

The night is warm for mid-September, but still Robin shakes against him. Eddie holds her closer. 

Silence settles over them, and it’s not an easy one. Silence is never easy anymore, especially with them. He feels so deeply hollow that even the silence echoes in there, creating an ever-present, uncomfortable thrumming of apprehension and anxiety within him. A certain sense of doom, one that can’t quite decide if it’s only an echo itself. 

“I wanna stop time,” Robin says at last, the cigarette long dead between Eddie’s fingers, but he somehow can’t bring himself to flick it away. “I don’t want tomorrow.” 

I don’t ever want a new day. I don’t ever want another tomorrow. I just want Steve. 

They ring in his head still, another echo that only hollows him out further every time it reaches him — Robin, overcome with hysterical grief, screaming and crying, curled up on that hospital floor, her cries quieting down and making Eddie wish she would be loud again, because the quiet was what killed him. The quiet, the whispered words, the declarations that tomorrow could go fuck itself if it came without Steve made him wish, irrationally, desperately, that their roles were reversed. That he could have died and Steve could have lived, and Robin would never have to wish tomorrow never came. 

He’s not entirely sure if she remembers the words, too. If she even said them in this world. 

So he takes a deep breath, breathes away memories and non-histories, feels the heavy weight of his guitar pick hanging around his neck, resting on the scarred flesh of his chest, and tries not to think of the one string left on his acoustic guitar. Tries not to think of his one last attempt. One last try. 

“I know,” he tells her. “Me neither.” 

He peers over her head, lifting his left wrist to check his watch. Ten minutes until midnight. Ten minutes until Steve’s birthday. 

“It’s not tomorrow yet,” he tries lamely, and Robin huffs — the sound wet and bitter and hopeless, making Eddie’s eyes sting. 

“It’s always fucking tomorrow,” she rasps, her voice flat and wavering, and Eddie knows her well enough to know she’s about to cry. And she knows him well enough to do it. 

“I know,” he says again, and reaches for his necklace through his shirt. One more attempt. One more try. One more chance. His eyes burn. 

She turns to him after taking a moment to compose herself, peering up at him through her lashes. 

“Tell me again?” 

His heart falls, the tense apprehension vanishing from the air, bur quickly replaced by something a lot more heavy. Something that looks and smells and feels like grief. 

They both know he’ll do anything she asks. He can’t really bear saying not to her. And not about this, anyway — she’s the only one who knows. 

She’s the one who should have had the chance. 

“Which part?” he asks, holding a new cigarette out for her to light it. She does, and the both follow the flame of the lighter Robin always keeps in her pocket these days. 

She leans forward and takes a drag. Eddie lets her. 

“All of them.“

Eddie sighs, pain welling up inside him, and he closes his eyes against the night sky. “Robbie,” he pleads, but he doesn’t finish his plea. He’ll do it. He’ll do anything she asks. 

But before he starts recounting the tales of how he almost saved Steve Harrington, he finds himself saying something he never thought he’d tell her. 

“There’s one more.” The words hang in the air, and Robin doesn’t react. Has no idea what’s coming; what he’s about to tell her. The guitar pick is heavy on the necklace around his throat. “There’s one more try. One more chance. I’m… I have one more—“ 

He can’t even finish the sentence. Can’t bring himself to say it, lest it all be jinxed forever. He doesn’t want to hope. Wants to carry this weight for all eternity and never think about all those times he failed to save someone he was never meant to save at all. People like Eddie, they’re not made to save anyone. Hell, they can’t even save themselves. 

Steve was supposed to be the one doing the saving. 

And he did. God, he fucking did. But he was never supposed to— 

Cold fingers wrap around his own as Robin fits their hands together. 

“I hate you a little bit for telling me.” 

Eddie nods, trying to focus on the cold hand and the nicotine in his lungs, trying not to let panic and grief and guilt and the heavy weight of one more chance win. “I know.” 

“Hey, Eddie?” Robin says after a while, the silence stretching on, and it’s almost midnight now. “Can you— Would you do something for me?” 

He turns his head, flicking the butt of his cigarette out into the darkness beyond them. “What’s that?” 

“Don’t— Don’t try to, to save him. Don’t— Just… Just maybe, could you celebrate his birthday with him? Make sure he knows he’s… God, make sure he knows he’s loved? Last year, no one really made time on his birthday and we just moved it backwards but God, could you— It’s almost midnight, and—“ 

“Robbie,” Eddie interrupts her, his voice hoarse and wavering, his eyes burning with tears as he tugs her close and holds her to his chest. “You should go. Don’t you wanna…” 

But she’s shaking her head against him with a vehemence that can hardly be misunderstood. 

“No,” she cries, and it’s more of a sob than anything. “I think if I ever saw him again, I’d… I don’t know what I’d do. Burn the whole fucking world to the ground for him or some shit, I can’t— I’d probably just cry all the time and that wouldn’t be helpful, really.” There’s a weak, wet laugh that bubbles out of both of them, and Eddie’s wiping at Robin’s face, drying the tears and making way for new ones to fall. 

“I’d light a fire for you,” Eddie says, the same weak smile on his lips that Robin meets him with now. “Nineteen fucking fires, you hear me?” 

She laughs again, then buries her face in his neck in a way that never quite fit. In a way that Eddie always knew was supposed to be someone else’s neck. 

But he’s not here anymore. And Eddie can’t get him back. No matter how much he aches for it, no matter how much he learned over and over and over again how easy it is to love Steve Harrington and how hard, how fucking impossible it is to lose him. Over and over and over again. 

And to live without him. This one fucking time they all get. It’s not fair. 

And now Robin is asking him to go back one more time and make sure that Steve knows— That he knows. 

Somehow the thought of that feels nobler than any attempt to save him, to bring him back; to rewrite history from a lonely boy’s perspective and hope that no one else is reading along. 

It feels right, too. Fundamentally and suddenly, and with such an intensity that Eddie knows the decision has been made the second he started telling her. 

Still he hesitates. Robin’s sobs have calmed down, and Eddie’s hand finds its way into her hair. 

“Do you really mean it?” 

She nods.

He nods, too, but slower. Like he’s trying to sway himself. Which way, he doesn’t know. 

“Make him happy.” 

“Okay,” he decides after a while, feeling hollow and desperate, but feeling purpose burning underneath his skin again. “One last time.” 

He unwinds his arms from around her and heads inside to grab his acoustic guitar. The last remaining string, badly untuned because he never dared to touch it, stares back at him in both mockery and invitation. A dare. A chance. A promise. 

Outside, Robin is waiting for him, looking anxious. Eddie wants to hug her. He doesn’t, only tightens his grip around the guitar’s neck. 

“Listen, Eddie, if this is goodbye or something—“ 

“It’s a birthday party, Robsie,” he interrupts her, aiming for light, aiming for brave. “I’m coming back right here.” 

“I know,” she rushes to say, taking a step toward him and wringing her hands. It’s endearing. It’s genuine. Eddie really is a little in love with her. “But, y’know, you don’t mess with time, and I don’t know what all you already changed before and I don’t wanna know but… If this is goodbye, if something happens, I just wanna tell you that I’m gonna miss you. And that I think you’re really cool. And that Steve’s— he’s really missing out, okay. Okay?” 

Eddie breathes, taking in her words and letting them soak into his body, his every last fibre. 

“Okay,” he smiles. “Thank you. You’re… I’m kind of in love with you, Robin Buckley. So there had better be no change in the universe, ‘cause that would really suck.” 

They smile at each other, Eddie with his guitar and Robin with her lighter, and somehow this feels like a deja-vu. The antithesis to a moment forever burned into his memory.

Make him pay. 

Make him happy. 

Eddie tugs on his necklace and plays the string before he can think about it too hard; before he can decide otherwise. 

Distantly, he hears the church bells announcing midnight as the world around him fades. 

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @cryptic-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @pukner @i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic @bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @awkwardgravity1 @devondespresso @bookworm0690 (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently)

[anna-proxx]

On my period and it’s 2 am so it’s the perfect time to watch sad RDR2 edits and cry over fictional characters.

The fact that Arthur saves John at the beginning of the game and then saves him again at the very end?

That Arthur sacrificed everything for his family only for it to slowly fall apart? Could’ve ran away with the love of his life and have the life he’d always longed for but was too devoted to his father who ended up leaving him to die?

How at the start, the game teaches you how to take care of Arthur: feed him, groom him, keep him safe and in a good shape just to eventually make you watch him wither away before your eyes, and you can do absolutely nothing about it? Witnessing his fits of cough and how sick and broken he looks but there’s no way to fix it?

How John, orphaned as a child, lost his found father first, then the other one left him to die and then he lost his big brother?

That Arthur specifically told John not to look back but he did exactly what Arthur didn’t want him to do and it inevitably led to John’s death and Jack ending up all on his own, lonely, sealing the tragedy that runs through the family?

How worried Hosea was about safety of the gang members and died before he could see how horribly wrong it all turned out? Or how his adopted sons’ fates played out?

Lenny dying so damn young and missing out on his potential, Sean not even getting to finish his goddamn sentence, Kieran, that sweet boy, getting murdered so brutally?

I’m not ok.