#i’ve been having too much fun sorry!!

[paw-padss]

ooo sorry this time i actually did forget about yall mb

[missjashin]

It’s been some time and Dustin and Steve go to see Wayne. Maybe he is moving out of Hawkins and they go to help with packing or maybe they just wanna check on him and he is reminiscing Eddie. Either way he has punch of old photos out. School photos, birthdays, first concerts, various different types from different ages.

One photo really catches Steve’s eye tho. It’s a group photo from the early 70s, taken in the summer. Steve asks Wayne “Why do you have this?”, seemingly little shocked and bewildered by the photo. Wayne looks at the photo and smiles telling it was taken in a summer camp Eddie once went. “That’s my boy” Wayne tells pointing one kid among the others. Dustin also looks at the photo and smiles. It seems like a good and happy memory.

So Wayne and Dustin get little puzzled when they hear choked sob coming from Steve. He is trying to hold it together but not really succeeding, his hands in his hair pulling so hard it can’t be comfortable. Just walking away from them now, fighting the tears. Rather weird and strong reaction for a mere summer camp photo, especially coming from Steve… Till you take a little closer look at the photo.

Because yes, with his buzz cut hair and thousand watt smile there’s little Eddie. Little Eddie who has his arm over another kid’s shoulder, pulling closer a little boy with a sweet smile, chestnut hair and tiny moles dotted on his face.

[daboyau]

I got an idea when looking at this post by @tangledinink. I couldn’t rest until I’d jotted it down. The art possessed me like an evil spirit. warnings for body horror, vomiting, general fuckery. 💚

what probably happened directly before Leo found himself in this situation:

Leo: Fairies? No way those sparkly little assholes are real.

The fae who happened to be within earshot: and i took that personally.

Anyway, here we gooooo:

Leo opens his mouth to scream, but the sound won’t come out. He gags on the feeling of it catching inside his throat, and then again when the trapped scream begins to grow thorns. It scrapes its way up, and he claws desperately at his throat, trying to tear the feeling out, falling to his knees as he gags around the forced silence.

The threat of suffocation is enough to tear his attention, however briefly, away from the horror of what is happening to his shell. His body is changing itself on the urging of some other thing’s whims, and even though his nerves didn’t seem to get the memo that a dissolving shell (you know, the thing that most of his internal organs and, like, half of his bones need to stay inside his body?) should probably hurt a lot, he can still feel it.

He retches as the first flower falls from his lips. It hits the ground with a disgustingly wet sound, coated with bile and saliva. It shines wetly, rich orange hues standing out brightly against the black soil. The rest follow shortly after, a painful deluge of familiar colors, and he’s helpless to do anything but dig his fingers deep into the rich soil and try not to let the horrific impossibility of the situation drive him crazy. Tears flow freely, staining his cheeks before they fall to the ground below, greedily absorbed by the cursed earth of this place.

“Oh, dear,” a voice says, too close for him not to have noticed their presence. He tries to jerk back, but he can’t pull his fingers from the dirt. It hurts when he tries. A high pitched whine escapes his throat, but he’s too terrified to be embarrassed by that. The voice shushes him, soothes him, and warm fingers wrap tight around the back of his neck. They come to rest just above where the lip of his shell should be. He sobs at the way his back squirms as heat shoots down his spine and something begins to grow. The furred fingers drag like velvet against his scales as they squeeze, the sharp prick of claws threatening to break skin, and then release him just as suddenly. 

“So much sorrow and pain. And, oh, so many regrets,” the thing says as she circles him, humming a tune that makes his head pound in rhythm with his racing heart. His hands have sunk beneath the black soil, and it has begun licking greedily at his wrists as well. He can feel tendrils of something wet and cold winding themselves around his fingers, and he wants to scream again, but the bursts of bile-soaked colors decorating the ground keep him from opening his mouth. He can feel a petal still clinging to his bottom lip, and when the thing kneels before him, she reaches out to pluck it off, unbothered by the way he shrinks as far away from her touch as he can manage.

She slips it between her lips, and he catches a flash of a blackened tongue as it darts out to meet that single purple petal. Her teeth are sharp when she smiles at him. They hadn’t been sharp, when she’d first approached him in the Hidden City. Nothing about her had been.

In the dim lights of the underground world he and his brothers had only recently begun to explore, she had looked soft. He’d seen her approaching, and the first thought to flit through his head was, aw, bunny. A fluffy, rounded face. Big eyes, dark and deep as a still pond as they reflected the flickering neon of a sign in the shop window behind him. A pink nose had twitched when she’d smiled at him, sweet and kind, and asked him for his name. 

(What had he told her?)

Now, she would be unrecognizable, if not for the same strawberry patterned dress that drapes over her stretched out frame. He’d think to compare her to a hare now, but the hares he’d seen when watching Animal Planet with mikey had never looked like they would take delight in tearing his nails off one by one or plucking out his eyeballs. They had never made his vision swim or his body shake when he’d looked at them. Maybe she’s become more of a wolf.

The soil has reached his elbows. Those cool, slimy tendrils have circled his wrists like shackles. They’re squeezing tighter and tighter, and he feels his fingers throb and tingle as circulation is cut off. 

His mind flashes briefly to raph and how he used to tell them not to wear rubber bands on their wrists, convinced that their hands would fall right off if they got squeezed too tight. He wonders if the things that live beneath the dirt will steal what they’ve claimed, just like she’s stollen his shell. Another sound wants to bubble up his throat at the thought, and he lets it, because what use is a swordsman without his hands?

The hysterical giggles escape as big, iridescent bubbles. They glitter pink and blue and leave a bitter taste on his tongue. They only float a few feet into the air before they fall back to the ground, their attempt to flee the horror of this situation not getting too far at all. Soft green grass rises up from the dirt to catch them, but they do not pop. They rest, suspended on those tiny blades, for far longer than any bubble he’s ever blown before. He watches, transfixed, as his laughter is eventually swallowed by green. It begins to spread.

A hand cradles his chin, and his gaze jerks back to the thing that brought him here. She is watching him intently, eyes darting to take in every tiny change in his expression. She looks curious, in the same way that donnie does when he’s thinking about all the ways he can take something apart, and what he can do with those pieces to create something better. 

Her hand is soft where it touches him. She is gentle as she wipes a cloth across his mouth. It feels like water, soothing and cool, and he finds himself leaning into this tiny offer of comfort among the stomach churning violation of what is being done to him. His eyes flutter, and he distantly registers that the face she wears seems to swim before his eyes with each rapid blink, shifting back and forth between bunny and wolf and something other. She looks like she wants to devour him whole, no matter which face she wears.

From this close, he can see the way her eyes sparkle and dance when she smiles. He can’t help but think that maybe being swallowed whole wouldn’t be such a bad way to go, after all. 

The writhing shackles around his wrists tighten. 

She laughs, breathy and soft, and the sound is layered and beautiful like wind chimes. It conjures a hurricane inside his mind. Her cool breath gusts over his face. It smells like churned dirt and funeral flowers and pustulous rot. He doesn’t know if he wants to gag or breathe deeper. 

“Little blossom,” she croons, cupping both his cheeks, dragging their faces close. He doesn’t resist. She giggles, and she drags those soft hands and those sharp claws down his neck and over his shoulders, fingertips bumping against the disgustinghorriblewrongparasitetumor gathering of delicate buds that have sprouted up all across his back. She pinches one between the pads of her fingers, and he wants to screamcrybeghertostoppushherawaycutherdownandtearthemalloutbytheroots be good for her.

“Little blossom,” she says again, and those dark eyes catch his gaze and hold it as a heavy feeling settles against his skin, across his shoulders, around his neck, and he can’t look away no matter how desperately he tries. But he doesn’t want to try. Her smile stretches wider, wider, and for one brief flicker of a second he can see blood on her teeth as she asks, “Do you believe now?”

.

(Side note just for fun. The flowers that appear in this but aren’t actually described or named are:

Orange marigold, for grief and despair

Purple hyacinth, for sorrow and asking for forgiveness

Red cyclamen, for goodbye and resignation

Yellow zinnia, for missing a friend and remembrance

Bluebells, for gratitude and everlasting love 

[zorosdimples]

knowing i should take a step back from tumblr for my own wellbeing vs. being emotionally attached to this app and the people on it

[kaeya-senpai]

SILLY BOY‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

[sandrockers]

I’m so happy with the new update~ Jay finally has her real hairdo instead of her pigtail wig that looked like it came from the dive buzzard LMAOO (although imma imagine jay will put her hair up in pigtails one day and Logan will make fun of it looking like that monster bird 🤨🤣)

I ALSO LOVEEE the new outfits!! I’m obsessed with the top (and yes I’m ignoring the hat that comes w this outfit LOL)

My new favorite outfit for Jay✨

Also surprisingly wearing it with black jeans instead u can match with Logan, but ima stick with blue jeans

…

Since it matches with Rambo more 🐐💖

[leverage-ot3]

sorry to keep personal posting but my day fucking SUCKED and ended with me dropping one of my brand new earrings from a set that I just finished cleaning down the drain, took the sink apart and still couldn’t find it 🙃

if y’all feel like asking a leverage/misc question for thoughts or headcanons I’d love to answer them in the morning! or even if you just want to say something about your day- I just like hearing from you guys 💖

[ct-multifandom]

I don’t usually make posts like this, but I’ve been seeing a lot of anti-intellectual junk lately, and I really think we need to put the word “pretentious” up on a shelf until people learn what it actually means.

It doesn’t describe someone who likes artsy-fartsy deep meaning media. People who are pretentious are fake. They’re posers trying to be sophisticated and unique, not like other girls. They pretend to only like stuff they think will make them sound cool when they talk about it. They want to act like they know something you don’t, and they want attention for it.

By definition, if you genuinely enjoy something, you can’t be pretentious. If it resonates with you, and you analyze it, and you don’t care what people think, that’s the polar opposite, actually. If you love obscure experimental prog music, if you watch underground high concept indie films through English teacher eyes, if you spend hours in a modern art museum reading each piece as a vessel for storytelling, if your backpack’s full of poetry books that inspire you, if you play underrated games that were someone’s passion project, if you have an interest in studying the classics or the masters, you are not pretentious.

Of course, some people just don’t like some stuff, and that’s fine, but that’s not what this is about. Don’t let anti-intellectuals shame you for enjoying things just because your interests are inaccessible to them, because they refuse to be brave and put effort into critical thinking. You’re not stuck up for refusing to overlook the craft of artists.

[buddiebitch]

opinions on Tommy

sorry i just like posting polls

[hana-bobo-finch]

screw it I’m bored I’m gonna write a pikmin fanfic right here right now on the fly lmao

tw for mentions of ptsd but it’s generally in a lighthearted tone like the rest of it, nothing too dark I think, but just putting it out there

“Yon!” Dingo screeched, barreling into Yonny’s lab. “Look at what that—that mutt did to me!” He shoved his arm into Yonny’s face. Yonny gave it a cursory glance before going back to his work—that work being forging a medical license, but it was work nonetheless. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Dingo to come to Yonny with some nonexistent medical issue. Maybe it was to get out of work, maybe he was actually worried about his health. Probably the first option. The guy who once chugged a bottle of chemicals with zero hesitations didn’t strike yonny as a hypochondriac.

He could feel Dingo’s icy stare tracking his every move, every elegant pen stroke coming together to form a perfectly forged PhD, watching, waiting for him to say something. He shouldn’t. As yonny so eloquently wrote in his notes, “It’d be like giving a dog treats for pissing on the floor. And in this case the treats would be attention. And the piss would be fake medical issues. And the floor would be me—ok, maybe it’s not the best analogy.”

“What’d oatchi do, hm?” He said, relenting. It’d be a lot easier to ignore Dingo if he wasn’t such good company.

“Truthfully?” Dingo whispered, leaning into Yonny’s ear. “Nothin’. But, like I’m thinkin’, maybe if shepherd thinks the dog’s causing trouble, she’ll get rid of him. Y’know, send him to the farm.”

Yonny startled at dingo’s closeness. And the fact he was talking about getting Oatchi euthanized. “Are you insane?” He said in a harsh whisper. Ironic, an accusation of insanity, coming from Yonny. “I can assure you the captain would euthanize you before she would ever consider doing so to oatchi.”

“What?” Dingo drew back, eyes widened in shock. “Wait, where’d all that come into play? And the captain wants to euthanize me? Where did this come from? But, I mean, if that’s what she wants…” He went red in the face and pressed his index fingers together.

“Do you know what people mean by sending pets to the farm?” Yonny asked.

“‘Course I do. Wasn’t born yesterday,” Dingo huffed. “I was talking with that freak-show hocotation guy, ‘cause he was stealin—er, borrowing food with me, and he said that he grew up around farms and stuff. And sometimes there’d be an abandoned space dog or somethin’, and, y’know, he’d adopt it. So I think oatchi should be sent to one of those places so I don’t have to see him around.”

Yonny stared at Dingo absentmindedly for a few seconds before snapping back to the moment. “Riiiight. That’s not what it generally means. Not at all.” He spun around in his swivel chair a few time before turning back to Dingo, hands folded on his lap. “But, I’m glad you’ve brought up the subject.”

“Of euthanasia?” Dingo looked a bit scared. “Hey man, I’ll drink corrosive chemicals that make my esophagus feel like it’s on fire for you. But I won’t die for you. Unless it was like, in some really heroic way. Like if a really scary animal tried to attack you, like…let’s just say, arbitrarily, a dog, I’d totally lay down my life for you. And you could hold me on your lap as I slowly die and hold my hand and gently kiss my forehead telling me I did a good job stopping those evil mutts. Not in a gay way.”

It was definitely in a gay way.

“No,” Yonny said flatly. No matter how much reading he does, he’ll never be able to find the words to respond to someone spewing such nonsense at such high speeds. “I mean, dogs. Your fear of dogs. I wanted to speak with you about that, eheheh.”

Dingo went pale, slowly backing away before shaking his head. “It’s ridiculous you think it’s a fear. I just don’t like them. Simple as that.” He paused for a moment before the words spilled out.

“And, you know, if it was a fear, it’d be perfectly natural. They have sharp teeth and claws and they bark really loudly. And so what if it is? Who are you to judge? Every time I see those stupid mutts I get all sweaty and…and sweaty, and I start thinkin’ about that time that stupid dog tried to “rescue” me! I didn’t even need rescuin’. It tried to kill me an’ bite my limbs off. The incompetent leader in charge didn’t even try to stop it. I think that guy was shepherd’s father. I think her mom must’ve had an affair because there’s no way such an angel came from that monster. Under his watch the stupid animal just dragged me all around even though I could’ve probably walked fine. I mean, I was a little disoriented and I occasionally blacked out but that doesn’t mean I had to be dragged around like a ragdoll. An’ I can’t think of anything but that when I see that dog shepherds constantly calling the cutest little boy to ever exist, and I don’t know how such a horrifying creature can be called that! Especially when the—when the cutest little boy to ever exist is me…”

Yonny gave him a minute to catch his breath after his marathon of run-on sentences before waiting to see if he had anything else to add. When he said nothing more, Yonny simply told him, “I’m certainly no psychiatrist, but it sounds like you may have some form of post traumatic stress—”

“Are you for real?” Dingo burst out. “Like, what those badass people have?”

“It’s much more complicated than that. It can cause horrible anxiety and stress. I’d recommend you see a psychiatrist for a proper—”

“Oh, that’s the best thing I’ve heard all week!” Dingo shook Yonny’s hand like he was receiving a medal instead of a referral to a psychiatrist. “Thank you. You know who’s gonna find that really cool? Shepherd.”

“I don’t think—”

Dingo was already gone.

“Captain!” Dingo shouted, running towards shepherd. “You’ll never guess what yonny just told me!” Before shepherd could get any words out, he kept talking. “Well, I don’t hate dogs cause I’m an asshole, I don’t like dogs cause I have trauma related to them!” He beamed proudly. Yes, this was his key to shepherds heart! Of course, a seasoned captain like herself would find such a thing to be cool. On cue, she wrapped her arms around him. Finally! This was it! True love’s kiss would happen aaaaany second now!

“I’m so sorry, dingo! I didn’t know!”

What

That ain’t right

“If I had known, I would’ve kept oatchi away from you. I’ll be sure to keep him away from you from now on.”

Huh

Where’s true love

“And I’ll tell captain olimar to make sure moss doesn’t bother you either, ok?”

WHERE THE HELL IS TRUE LOVE

“Thank you for telling me, alright?” She let go and patted him on the shoulder before walking off.

That wasn’t meant to happen

Wasn’t that supposed to be hot

Why did he get sympathy for that

He crumpled to the ground, sobbing. Yonny walked up next to him and said nothing.

“I thought that would work!” Dingo cried. “Everything was going just fine until she started, I dunno, caring about my emotions! She should be caring about how handsome I am.”

“I care,” Yonny said.

“…‘Bout what, euthanasia? You freak, why’re you still talking about that? That conversation ended so long ago man, just let me wallow in my own misery for a while.”

~~the end!!!,! I’m so tired~~~

[spacelesscowboy]

truthfully while i enjoy billford and fiddauthor i think they’re much more fun as like. lightning in a bottle moments. weird built up tension that neither side acknowledges. but It’s There.

and 30 years later ford is shooting up in bed wide eyed and sweating going. oh my god i was in love w them. while both bill and fiddleford moved on LONG before ford even realized what was happening.

[deus-ex-mona]

i miss her…

[poppyseed799]

btw I don’t know if this is a thing anyone is thinking about but I’m not gonna stop drawing Jimmy as a canary. It’s a lovely bird. It’s still something that’s been really important to his series. There’s no reason to drop the canary headcanon just cuz Lizzie fell into the void.

[arolesbianism]

Some concepts for the siblings

[deargravity]

society if visty could actually make it past the first round of battles and it isn’t just bae and cozmez winning everything again >>>>

PLEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAASE GOD PLEASEEEEEEE 😭😭😭😭😭 IF U CAN HEAR ME PLEEEEEEEASEEEEEEEE OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDDDDD

[hp-lonesome-actual-art]

Another batch or Mr. Puzzles quick sketches. I kept forgetting to draw his side pocket in the last couple ones. Random character featured in the little comic-ish Live Interview is some version of doodlesona. Can’t guarantee the dialogue will be believable/sound in character for Puzzles because honestly I’m still working on understanding his talking style and when he sarcastically jokes around or when he chooses to be serious and drop performance act. But in the off chance you wanna read it goes from left to right with reading