#signed letter

[local-pickpocket]

Alright. There’s like too many thieves.

Rephrase, Disorganized thieves.

As such, I propose… something special.

[The Tumblr Thieves Guild]

We work together, pick apart peoples posts for all they’re worth, and revel in the profits.

Essentially, when we find a post we like, we call the guild, and everybody does their gimmick on that post. We get shit from their post, they get mass interaction, fun is had by all.

Here’s some tags:

• #tt guild - overall posts about the guild

• #passerby - casual conversation/plotting with guild members

• #signed letter - some cool post that’s free for the taking

• #golden goose - a complicated post requiring additional help/ some different gimmick

• #burnt spot - someone needs to be… “Taken care of”. For the good of the guild of course.

• #honor among - take from a thief or guild member to better the guild. Or to do a funny.

So yeah, wacky idea, right?

Needs people though.

So I’m going to ping a bunch of thieves.

And if they (or you) reblog this, they are a member of the guild. Probably.

Oh and no cops.

@gimmick-thief

@gimmick-thief-thief

@anti-gimmick-thceif

@stealer-of-gimmicks

@gimmickbardthiefmulticlass (I can respect it)

@gimmick-thief-theif-thcief

@your-gimmick-has-been-stolen

@gimmick-remover

[viejospellejos]

Igualito que mi firma

[toasterdrake]

I think I saw someone steal your post on Instagram

i take this as a compliment honestly

super curious which post tho. what did i say they deemed worthy of thievery???

[wasabi-gumdrop]

Kabru has a secret admirer in the castle!

[dickpuncherdraws]

sweaty jock zukka yuri save me......save me sweaty jock zukka yuri

click here for post gym locker room shenanigans

[jude-thedude98]

Admitting to the pain I caused you..

a.j.s.

r.a.a.

j.b.l.

e.j.e.

d.b.s.

k.b.

s.a.n.

s.d.b.

e.n.m.

MYSELF

a.m.s.

MY PARENTS

MY FAMILY

j.a.w.m.

a.j.m.

j.e.c.

a.m.c.

j.l.

j.j.

c.j.

j.t.c.

t.m.

n.c.

j.c.

f.j.c.

d.l.m.

o & his son

Ms. Flo.daughters

swiper

l.p.people.

b.h.s.

a.d.s.

t.g.s.

j.a.s.

m.s.

m.s.

k.a.s.

MY MOMMA

MY EMOTIONS

a.j.s. again for deep rooted pain I'm sorry and I apologize hurting you was not my intention it was only to love you and to be loved in shared experi3nces

r.a.a. again for deep rooted pain that I've caused mentally and emotionally and in every other type of way I'm sorry and I apologize I should have listened but I believe in love and I don't know what that is so I took advantage of you all

f.j.c. for the unspoken things

a.d.s. for the recently spoken things

m.g. for just everything

YOUR WIFE^

a.m.s. MOM for not saving her

b.k. for not punching you when I wanted to

b. one of the first Bullies in my life for not punching you too when I wanted to

b. down the road for not punching you either in sunrise park and knocking your lights out

k.d. for allowing you to twist my arm backwards and not punching you back and beating your face in

to the kid that I chased down at school in 7th or 8th grade who God only knows why we were arguing and Mr. McHale had to pull us apart

to the one neighbor who I secretly picked on before getting to know her as a friend I'm sorry

to all the ryan's I've met and either got along with didn't get along with had a seflcrwt crush on and either hit on you in odd and blatant ways or for hitting on your years after like I recently did on fb I'm sorry to all of you

to allie who I just used to get to her sister so I could hug her and feel my head in between her boobies I was young horny and curious I'm sorry billie

to the trip that I took down the country road of j.m.d. I'm sorry man for pushing you to do stuff you didn't want to do I was exploring myself

TO MY EXPLORING THAT IM STILL DOING IM SORRY

TO THE IDENTITY THAT IM STILL EXPLORING IM SORRY

to b. for not knocking you out sooner and letting this relationship fall to a titanic iceberg

to b. who I'm sorry and apologize to the fact of if I was the one that brought on the jack and rose scene

to the whole l. family across the street I'm sorry for using you

to grandma

to grandpa

to maw-maw

to paw-paw

to my country ass family on one side

to my city ass family on the other side

TO THE H&H's I apologize and I'm sorry

to k.d.m. Sr. for everything I'm sorry and I apologize

to k.d.m. Jr. I'm sorry for everything and I apologize

to j.m. family member I'm sorry and I apologize

to the whole s. family I apologize and I'm sorry for anyone I hurt that may have hurt you or Ancestors or anyone in the direct contact of you

i.m.s.o.r.y.t.o.t.h.e.b.u.t.t.e.r.f.l.y.a.f.f.e.c.t.o.f.p.a.i.n.i.c.au.s.e.d.imsorry.and.ihopeyouforgiveme.

To Zion.im.scared.

[pendragonsclotpole]

question for my fellow merthur compatriots, i recently started reading a merlin canon fix-it where merlin’s modern name was emrys hunithson, and like i love that name, touching, meaningful. but that and another post on this website has me thinking about the lovely alternatives merlin might use as his name in a modern world.

like yeah, he could go by merlin emrys, merlin hunithson, emrys hunithson

but imagine if he took up the last name pendragon.

1500 years pass and merlin’s traveling the world as merlin pendragon, as emrys pendragon or better yet

ambrose pendragon.

merlin signs all his contracts and credit card receipts with the name a. pendragon.

arthur and the rest of the roundtable + gwen + morgana return but can’t find merlin. WHY?

because they’re looking for the wrong name.

[happyfirstpri]

Nothing more homo than having parallel or mirroring nicknames with your rival since childhood

Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen. Also known as:

the phoenix and the dragon

the sun of maranello and the rain of milton keynes

il predestinato (the predestined) and the inevitable

eterni rivali (eternal rivals)

Eterni rivali is so sexy, like imagine signing off letters with that?

“Il tuo Eterno Rivale,

[insert name]”

HOT. SEXY. I’D KISS YOU ON THE LIPS.

[frenchphobe]

griddlehark modern pen pal au where they don’t know each other but are assigned as pen pals for those pen pal projects you get in middle school and it just turns into them sending each other hate mail and somehow they just keep going for several years, even though they dont rly have to

[estrellami-1]

Steddie Week 2024

July 6th Prompt: Dizzy

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 7

@steddie-week

Steve stands up, and that’s where it all goes wrong.

His intent was to grab more drinks from the fridge, but when he stood, he blinked a few times. “Whoa,” he murmurs.

“Steve?” Robin asks. She sounds like she’s at the end of a long tunnel.

“Steve?” Eddie asks. He sounds closer, but not as close as he should.

“‘M fine,” he says, “jus’ dizzy.”

Then he’s waking up in the hospital. “What,” he asks, then doesn’t complete the thought because Robin and Eddie are both standing over him, one on each side, holding each of his hands, and he’d feel so much love if he could feel anything besides general panic because- “I can’t hear you,” he says, breathing picking up. “I can’t- please, I- I need-”

Eddie shuts up, staring at him with wide eyes, and after a second of hesitation, places Steve’s hand, palm down, on his chest. He takes deep, purposeful breaths, and Steve can feel his hand moving, feel the breaths, feel his heartbeat-

He takes a breath. Another. Another. By that time, Nancy had gotten a doctor.

Later, he’ll learn this is something they’d been watching for, but couldn’t be sure of until he woke up. Later, he’ll learn that Eddie lays awake at night, sometimes, hearing the sound Robin makes.

All he knows right now is how to keep breathing, how to keep holding Robin’s hand, how to believe he’ll be okay, because he has to.

He has to.

He stays with Eddie upon his release, because they’re together most days anyways, and it’s a certain kind of torture on Steve’s heart because Eddie’s started carrying around a notebook and a pen just to write to Steve whatever he was gonna say, and Steve doesn’t think he could love another person more than he did, but here’s the proof, apparently.

They’re sharing a bed, because Wayne had previously called their couch “older than Jesus,” and Steve lasted for all of an hour on it before slipping into Eddie’s room.

The good thing about sharing a room is it helps curb the nightmares for a time.

Eventually, though, they come back with a vengeance.

Steve’s laying in bed, like he does every night, when he rolls over to face Eddie. “Eddie?” He asks. Eddie’s always last to sleep, so Steve’s not hesitant about asking, except Eddie doesn’t answer.

“Eddie?” He asks again, jostling Eddie’s shoulder a bit.

Suddenly he shoots up in the air, and Steve bites back a yell.

Suddenly there’s a voice that sounds like it’s coming from everywhere and nowhere, reverberating off the corners of the room, echoing louder and louder. You took everything from me. Eddie’s arms snap, and Steve yells, scrambles up, music, except what’s his favorite song—that puppet one, metal, come on brain, think—but there’s nothing here but country, bluegrass, stuff Wayne likes, and Steve turns to watch the blood drain from Eddie’s face as another gristly crunch echoes, louder than anything so far. So I’ll take everything from you!

Something reaches out for him, grabs his shoulder, and he yells, twists around, pushes away, hard enough he falls on the ground. He opens his eyes to see Eddie on his bed, Steve sitting just off it, eyes wide and hand reaching to help, stalled halfway. Illuminated by the lamp, too, which wasn’t on half a second ago.

Steve blinks at him, looks at the room. No floating Eddie in the middle of it.

“Dream?” He asks. Eddie nods. He stifles the sob and practically launches himself onto the bed, into Eddie’s arms, lets himself shake apart because he can.

Eventually he feels reverberating in Eddie’s chest that he knows means words, means speaking, so he looks up at Eddie, who’s looking at the door.

He turns to look, too, and sees Wayne. “S-sorry,” he tries, still sniffling.

Wayne shakes his head at him, walks into the room, sits on the edge of the bed. Offers his arms out in a hug.

Steve thought he was done crying. Trust Wayne to prove him wrong, because he’s tearing up all over again as he leans into Wayne.

His new position means he can see Eddie, who points at him, makes a talking motion with his hand, then points at himself and Wayne. Steve frowns. “You… want me to tell you?”

Eddie points at Steve again, insistently, and Steve understands: your choice.

“I can,” he agrees. “We were in bed and I was tryin’a talk to you, but you didn’t answer, and I kept trying to get your attention, but suddenly you- you were up in the air, and your arms and legs broke, and a voice—it was Vecna, I didn’t recognize it in the dream—said I’d taken everything from him so he was gonna take everything from me. And I was trying to find music, but I couldn’t remember the name of your favorite song, and the only stuff in here was Wayne’s stuff, country and bluegrass and stuff like that, and…” he sighs out a broken sob. “I couldn’t save you.”

Eddie reaches for his hand, but suddenly that’s not enough, he needs to be able to feel his heartbeat, have his breathing move Steve’s hand, so he tips over into Eddie again, gets his hand on his chest and his face in the side of his neck.

Eddie says something, but before Steve can move Wayne’s got a comforting hand on his back. He removes it after a minute, and Steve can feel the shift in the bed of him getting up, but before he can mourn the loss, Eddie’s got his arms wrapped around Steve as he carefully lowers them back down. He rubs a hand up and down Steve’s spine, slips the other into Steve’s hair.

Steve falls asleep like that.

He wakes up in almost the same position. He tries to apologize, but Eddie waves him off, hands him some clothes and points to the bathroom before pointing to himself and miming cooking.

Steve’s heart clenches at the thought. “Okay,” he whispers.

Robin comes over later, and they sit on the front steps as he recounts what had happened. “He’s just so sweet,” he sighs. “And I’m an idiot who’s letting my heart get involved.”

Robin wraps an arm around his shoulders and kisses his temple. It doesn’t help as much as he’d hoped it would, but he appreciates the gesture anyways.

Later she leaves, and Eddie pulls out his dedicated Steve Notebook.

I’ve got a friend in Indy who knows sign language. I could give her a call, if you want? He writes, and again Steve’s all but overcome with love for this man.

Instead of anything he wants to do, he just nods. Eddie grins and hops up to use the phone.

He’s back in a couple of minutes, collapses onto the couch with the notebook before furiously scribbling and handing it to Steve.

I spoke to my friend. She says sorry and it sucks, first of all. Steve snorts and nods. She’s willing to talk to you, get you started, maybe even get you some books. Does tomorrow work?

Steve gapes up at Eddie. “Tomorrow?”

Eddie nods and grins, then points at Steve in a gesture Steve knows has come to mean you decide.

“That would be great,” he says. “Seriously, I- thank you, Eddie.”

Eddie waves him off, but Steve can see the happy little blush on his cheeks.

They head out the next day. It’s probably twenty minutes into the drive, and even with Eddie sitting next to him in the driver’s seat, it feels lonely. He never realized how much he’d miss the sound of tires on asphalt. He wasn’t ever truly into music, like Eddie is, but he misses the radio. He misses the wind rushing past, the silence that’s possible to share when both people can hear-

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Eddie’s pulled over, a hand on his cheek and a concerned expression on his face. “Sorry,” he tries. Eddie shakes his head, presses his palm more firmly to Steve’s cheek. “Fuck,” he mutters. “‘S stupid. Just… felt alone. I dunno. There’s, like, a million little things you hear every day that you don’t think about, like the way your hands tap the steering wheel when you turn, or the way your clothes shift and rub against each other, and it’s all silent now, and there’s not even music, and-” he takes a deep, shaky breath. Lets it out as evenly as he can. “I just… felt really alone all of a sudden.”

Eddie brushes his thumb along Steve’s cheekbone as he thinks. Suddenly, he grins and moves his hand, shoving a tape into the deck and cranking the sound. He demonstratively puts his hand on the door. Steve laughs and does the same, gasping when he feels the vibrations of the song move through him. He can’t tell notes, but it’s something, and then Eddie carefully reaches for his hand, keeps his grip relaxed until Steve smiles at him and tightens his own fingers around Eddie’s. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Eddie smiles, nods, and gets back on the road.

They arrive at his friend’s apartment in no time, and Steve would be jealous at the length of the hug if Eddie didn’t immediately step back to grab Steve’s hand again. Based on his hand motions, he’s introducing Steve.

She asks Eddie something, and he turns bright red, pulling a strand of hair across his face as he glances at Steve before looking back at her and answering.

She invites them in, scribbles on a little chalkboard, and hands it to Steve with a smile. Hi, Steve! My name is Nicole. It’s nice to meet you.

He grins up at her. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

She takes the chalkboard back, scribbles something else. Eddie tells me you recently lost your hearing. Do you mind me asking about that?

“Not at all,” Steve says, then frowns, somehow just now realizing he doesn’t know the full extent of what happened. “Honestly, all I know is I stood up and got really dizzy, and then I was waking up in the hospital.” He shrugs. “I’ve had a couple of pretty bad concussions, and I guess whatever made me pass out also just… took my hearing.” He shrugs.

Eddie shakes his head, grabs for the chalkboard. Almost. He bites his lip. You passed out, and I wasn’t fast enough. You hit your head on the floor. He looks away, takes a deep breath. I’m sorry.

“That is not your fault, Eds,” Steve tells him firmly. Eddie won’t look him in the eyes, so Steve grabs his chin. “Hey, look at me. Not your fault. I don’t blame you. Okay?”

Eddie shrugs, pointing to himself with a self-deprecating smile, and Steve knows what he’s trying to say. I do.

“Well I don’t,” Steve says. “But if- if you need to hear it. I forgive you, okay?”

Eddie nods, eyes big and wet, and Steve pulls him into a hug.

Eddie suddenly laughs, pulling away to wipe his eyes before saying something to Nicole.

Right. They’re not alone. “Sorry,” he tells her, but she waves him off, handing over the chalkboard again. I think we’ll start on the alphabet today. That way you can at least finger spell what you need, even if it’s slow.

“Sounds good,” he says, and she nods, talking the chalkboard to write the alphabet.

Slowly but surely, she teaches Steve and Eddie the alphabet. They get a little tripped up on some of the letters, most noticeably p and q, until Nicole takes pity on them and makes a p. She uses her other hand to draw a line down both her extended fingers, then tracing her own legs. She taps her thumb, peeking out between the two, and with a mischievous grin, points between Steve and Eddie’s legs.

They share a look and burst out laughing, but they don’t forget those letters again.

By the end of the day, they’ve gotten through the alphabet with enough regularity that Nicole feels they can practice on each other.

Steve pauses before they leave. T-h-a-n-k, then a pause, then y-o-u.

Nicole smiles, presses her fingertips to her lips, then brings her hand down to chest height, palm up. She does the motion again, and Steve copies her, grinning when she nods excitedly.

“Thank you,” he signs and says, grinning even wider when she pulls him into a quick hug before waving at him and Eddie.

They wave back and pile into the van, Steve’s hand in Eddie’s before Steve can practically blink. He smiles, unbearably fond, and squeezes to get his attention before signing, “Thank you.”

Eddie just smiles back, throws the van into reverse, and starts home. 

They practice more while they make dinner, throwing words like spatula and stir and chop around, and Steve didn’t realize learning could be this fun.

He’s watching Eddie stir the broth, hips moving in a little dance to a song only Eddie knows, and his heart is so full, he has to say something before his heart bursts. “I’m gonna say something that’s gonna sound incredibly sappy,” he says. “But just… please just listen until the end? And try not to tease me too much.”

Eddie just smiles, grabs his hand and squeezes, and Steve takes a breath before starting.

“I’m glad it’s you. I’m glad you were there that day, I’m glad you were there when I woke up at the hospital, I’m glad you were there when I realized going home meant being completely alone. I’m glad you made a complete fool of yourself in the hospital lobby, doing charades to let me know I could stay here.” He takes a breath. “I’m glad you have Nicole, because it lets me talk with you easier. I’m glad you never once let me feel like I’m alone, or like I’m going through this alone. I’m glad you’re learning with me. I’m glad you’re making this fun. I didn’t know learning could be fun, but it is with you, and I-” he takes a breath, swallows the three words that want to come out. “I’m glad it’s you,” Steve whispers, “here, at the end of all things.”

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Eddie’s hands are cradling his cheeks, wiping away tears. Eddie’s just as teary-eyed, though, and he pulls away, looking for the notebook. Please don’t punch me.

Steve looks up, brows furrowed, to watch Eddie spell something. I l-o-v-

That’s as far as he gets before Steve gasps, understanding, or hoping he understands, and pulls Eddie into a kiss.

He pulls back almost immediately to check that’s correct, that that is what Eddie was trying to say, when Eddie pulls him back in, dinner be damned, crowding him in against the counter and doing his best to lick into Steve’s mouth.

Steve lets him, pulling away for a sharp inhale before diving right back in, fingers tight in Eddie’s hair and the back of his shirt, and there’s a sudden vibration that he just knows means Eddie moans, and suddenly he’s dizzy again, but this time he welcomes it, because this time he’s not passing out; this time, he’s dizzy because he’s drunk on love.

[greenh0ur]

[romanticatheartt]

I don't care what crimes Rhys has committed. As long as he looks at his wife like she hung the moon and kiss the ground she walks, he can k!ll people left and right and I wouldn't bat an eye...

[who-canceled-roger-rabbit]

One funny difference between J. R. R. Tolkien and C. S. Lewis is that Tolkien seemed entirely uninterested in writing about sex, whereas Lewis's writing was also chaste but with barely repressed kinkiness simmering just beneath the surface

[shiftythrifting]

the most wonderful time of the year

(Spotted in San Francisco Bay Area)

[hannibal-is-my-comfort-show]

[detectivejay]

I began writing this post before and lost my draft when I went to check how far along “Letters from Watson” is, so here it is without preamble. Lesson learned. 😆 (It appears to be up to The Hound of the Baskervilles at the time of this post.)

If you chose some combination of the short story collections and novels, I’d love to hear which ones in the comments and tags!

Please reblog for a larger sample size. :)