#i know this is an old concept for him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

milf-harrington · 1 year

Text

inspired by @flashyysins

Two days after Hawkins was almost split open, Robin saw a woman pacing in the hospital waiting room.

There were plenty of other people as well, sitting or standing or walking the length of the room in a similar pattern, but there was something about the woman that Robin noticed. It wasn't just that she was beautiful, which she was- it's that there was something familiar about her.

She was in blue jeans and an old-school Hawkins High Letterman jacket, light brown hair twisted up in a claw clip. Robin had never met her before, she'd remember that at the very least, but still.

Something about the angle of her nose or the gentle waves of her hair felt like something Robin had seen before, something she'd be able to find in a crowded room or across a street.

But Robin had somewhere to be, so she shook off the odd feeling, and followed the familiar path to Steve's room.

---

"Hey Stevie."

Steve's smile was tired, but he was looking more lively than when he'd passed out in the waiting room the other day, so she'd take it.

"Robbie, you left me hanging yesterday."

She snorted and dropped into one of the chairs by his bed, swinging her legs over the arm rest and cradling the bag she'd brought with her in her lap. "You're the one who fell asleep during visiting hours."

He rolled his eyes, and she happily noted the colour returning to his skin. "You should be exempt from visiting hours, you're like...essential to my recovery or something."

She laughed to hide the way those words curled soft and warm around her heart, eyes stinging until she blinked it away. The dumbass had almost over-worked himself to the point of no recovery. "'Exempt?' Someone's been reading a dictionary- did one of your children leave theirs behind?"

"Oh fuck you-"

They were interrupted by a knock on the door, and Robin was startled to see the woman from the waiting room hovering behind a nurse.

"You have a new visitor Mr Harrington."

Even knee-deep in confused intrigue, Robin couldn't help but dramatically mouth Mr Harrington over her own shoulder, pleased at the face he pulled in retaliation.

And then the door shut, and Steve looked up to find the woman-from-the-waiting room standing at the end of the bed.

Robin saw his brain grind to a halt at the sight of her.

It was silent (well, as much as it could be in a hospital room, what with all the beeping and whirring) as they took each other in, and Robin slowly brought her knees in closer to her chest like it would shield her from the vague awkwardness chewing at her.

And then-

"Fucking hell, Eve." The woman breathed out, white knuckling the bar at the end of his bed.

At the same time, Steve's face scrunched up as he demanded: "What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean 'what am I doing here'? You're in hospital!"

"I thought you were in New York!"

"Yeah and then I got a call from Hawkins General that my little brother was dying in a hospital bed! Thank you for keeping me as your emergency contact, by the way."

"Well-" Steve spluttered and then crossed his arms over his chest, wincing at the pressure on his injuries. "Obviously."

Several things clicked into place like undone locks. Steve had almost been too comfortable about "feminine" topics for as long as she'd been an active member of his life- and even slightly before.

(He'd once run out of Scoops to buy her pads when she'd started her period in the middle of a shift. At the time she'd figured he was just trying really hard to beat the still a douche-bag allegations.)

Then there were the sweaters that he wouldn't confess to the origin of, the jokes he'd make about Robin "not being the only woman in his life" that she'd thought were about Nancy Wheeler, the vehement denial that the rom-com collection in the theatre room were his.

And, while Robin hated to enforce gender stereotypes, he'd always had the kind of mean girl cattiness that was usually only forged in teenaged girls and merely rubbed off on others.

Of course Steve Harrington had a sister.

Now Robin understood why she'd seemed so familiar in the waiting room.

"What happened to you?"

Simultaneously, Robin and Steve shifted uncomfortably, meeting each others eyes and coming up blank on both ends.

Steve's sister swallowed, jaw clenched and lip quivering as she look back and forth between them. She seemed suddenly fragile, like Steve after a nightmare, or right before he'd collapsed in the waiting room after carrying Eddie inside.

Steve cracked first. "Lou-"

"Don't fucking lie to me, Stephen. This is the third time you've ended up in hospital since your senior year."

Steve blinked, startled. "How did you-"

"I'm your sister." She seethed, and Robin could see flickers of Steve with an axe in his hand in the arch of her shoulders. "You might have told the hospital not to call but I still have friends in this town. If that Hargrove asshole wasn't already dead-"

"Lou-"

"Don't-"

"It was a serial killer." Robin blurted, drawing Steve's sisters' attention to her. "I don't now if you heard about it, but someone was going around killing teenagers. It started with Chrissy Cunningham- she was a cheerleader? kind of cute in a preppy sort of way, but, um- she was killed in our friends living room and then he sort of got blamed for it because, I mean, it was pretty sketchy but he didn't do it! I promise, Eddie didn't- anyway, there was this whole witch hunt, and two more people died which just sort of made it worse for Eddie and a group of us were trying to, like, clear his name, you know? Because we knew he didn't do it and we didn't want him to get killed next, but then one of our other friends - this girl, Max, she's a riot - she was being targeted by the real killer so we came up with this...really stupid plan to catch the killer but everything went sort of tits up and Eddie and Steve both got, well-" She waved her hands at the bandage around Steve's throat and the bruising around his wrists from the vines. "And Max, she broke her elbow and her knee when she fell, and I think Dustin twisted his ankle? So now Max and Eddie and Steve are all in hospital and Dustin has these crutches that he doesn't want to use but, I mean, Steve always makes him because it's Steve, and we don't really know if Eddie's okay yet but no one's come to tell us he's not so we're still hopeful-"

"Robin."

Robin shut her mouth, and took a deep breath through her nose. Steve's sister was staring at her in the startled sort of awe that Robin was used to seeing when she got going. She had the lungs of a trumpet player, it wasn't hard for her to talk until she forgot where she'd started.

"You fought a serial killer?" Steve's sister - Lou? - asked, and Robin hysterically felt like she should offer up her seat.

Steve, bless him, only nodded. Lou stared, lips pressed into a thin line and nostrils flared slightly.

And then, quite abruptly, she was straightening her back and stepping around the bed to hold out a hand to Robin. "Louisa Harrington."

Robin blinked, and shook her hand. "Robin Buckley."

Louisa nodded, like that made sense, and smiled the same cupids-bow smile as her brother. "The best friend- it's good to meet the other half of my brothers brain. Clearly the better half, considering you aren't the one in the hospital bed."

Steve made an offended noise, and Robin grinned.

#i've had this concept lodged in my brain since i first read flashyysins post #especially bc i am a little brother to an older sister so now it's Personal #anyway steve's sister (in my world) is named Louisa and their nicknames for each other are Eve and Lou #bc when she was little Lou would call him ''Stevie-evie-eve'' and it just slowly got shortened to ''eve'' overtime #and when he was old enough to know what nicknames were he wanted them to match so she became lou #and their parents HATE that they call each other that bc Lou sounds like a boys name and Eve is a girls name #and they're like ''get rekt youre never home anyway''#i've also decided that the person Karen Wheeler is talking to on the phone when she calls steve's house in season 1 #is his sister not his mum #anyway everyone meet louisa harrington she lives in new york studying classical music #she visits randomly and she and steve call each other fortnightly or whenever anything interesting happens #my writing #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington #robin buckley

515 notes · View notes

tora-the-cat · 4 months

Text

An interesting little fun thing with team 7 is that you assume that Sakura's gonna, like, woobify and simplify Sasuke by putting him on a pedastal,cause her goal is centered around him and shes a 12 y/o fangirl so like of course her understanding of him is skewed cause she doesnt see him as a person, just an object of affection, right? She's can't get Sasuke, can't imprint on and/or traumabond with him like Naruto and Kakashi do. They don't see him with rose tinted glasses, because they've lived through their own Horrors and empathize with Sasuke's experience.

......right?

WRONG lmao!! They have too many ghosts!! Naruto's single-minded codependent ass won't get out of his own way long enough to see Sasuke for who he actually is, only able to empathize with the parts of his trauma Naruto relates to and not really capable of understanding him outside of the context of himself (because Sasuke is. His other half). And Kakashi is far too jaded to be fair to him!! He can't decide if Sasuke is gonna end up as a mini-him or a mini-Obito or maybe a mini-Itachi, but either way he ALSO is too traumatized to see Sasuke AS SASUKE.

meanehile SAKURA'S autistic ass may have dogshit empathy, but you know what she does have? A special interest in sasuke. Nothing better to do then give herself a degree in Uchihaisms. She can write character studies about him. she can read his soul. Whenever she says something about him she is right. Every fucking time! She is RIGHT!!!!

'sasuke would NOT compliment me this directly or explicitly express worry unprompted, especially if it gets in the way of his goals' correct.

'Sasuke shouldn't hide that curse on his neck its not healthy BUT if I tell anyone about it he'll never trust me again, which might be even more dangerous for him then the curse mark. Like he can probably handle the curse mark but no one else can stop him from ripping peoples arms off.' correct.

Speaking of! 'Sasuke would not hurt me even when he seems to be...possessed? whatever the only way to knock him out of it is to present myself as Alive and thus something to be protected rather then something to be avenged, because he gets really stuck in his own head about revenge' CORRECT

'hey so um. like. Sasuke's gonna leave Konoha. I'm not sure anything can stop him at this point and honestly I'm kinda starting to doubt anything should, so the only thing I could possibly do to help him at this point is ALSO defect.' CORRECT!!!!

#shout out to @Obihoe cause this started as a tag comment on one of your posts that got WAY too out of hand. just like old times lol #team 7 #haruno sakura #sakura haruno #sasuke uchiha #team crackhead #naruto #naruto uzumaki #sasusaku #doesn't have to be but like. Yeah #for the record no disrespect to my boys Naruto n Kakashi I love them dearly. but like. they got their issues. that's half the fun of team 7 #And Sakura has her problems with Sasuke too!! But her problems have nothing to do with understand him or his motivations or his personhood #and more to do with. Well. her absolute dogshit empathy. Emotionally disregulated ass.#'if you leave me I'll feel just like you did when your parents died' My beloved. Iconic. Great line. No notes. She's really just still so #inexperienced and naive that means she can explain and predict and KNOW him and his actions but still not empathize. She can say shit #like that with a straight face because she's never FELT loss like this before (except that minute she thought he was dead on the bridge)#so she can't imagine a worse pain. Just assumes it can't GET worse because she has no emotional concept of 'worse'. so it must be the same #she's literally the only person with a chance of convincing Sasuke to take her with him to Orochimaru because he's SASUKE of course she #knows all the right pressure points and keywords and concerns and stuff that she needs to convince him.#she's literally playing a little diolouge tree game with him. And maybe even winning up until that line! it's the dealbreaker

144 notes · View notes

artemx746 · 1 month

Text

Honestly hate how Annabeth doesn't get to keep majority of her items (ie. Daedalus' laptop)

#it annoys me so much because some of them were really unique and could've been used really well #The video shield (From TLO and never used again in the main books) was such a cool concept and was made by Beckendorf #So it could've been like a memory of him #No. Rick destroys it in a side story #And her laptop given to her by the greatest inventor alive a symbol of how ideas will get passed down from generation to generation #Lost in hell #Her knife that her adoptive brother gave her when she was seven years old a symbol of their familial bond #Also lost in hell #That one infuriates me #That trio was the most important one in the og series #but now that Luke's dead lets not keep the knife he gave to his sister because... I don't know she can't have things from dead people?#Why can't Annabeth keep things from dead people?#That's the question I'm getting from writing this #Rick I am speaking directly to you #Why do you hate the deceased?#annabeth chase #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #do i tag this as rr crit #I'll do it to be safe #rr crit

56 notes · View notes

puhpandas · 4 months

Text

Tony and Vanessas relationship through Gregory can be something so personal

#im so obsessed with the concept of tony and vanessa #i got some of it out in rabbit burrow but like #vanessa seeing this kid show up who gregory knew pre memory loss pre vanessa being free #coming back and hes supposed to be dead. hes probably the only one to survive the two of them #and then he keeps coming over and coming over all the time #and vanessa watches gregory and him hole up in his room for hours and she can hear them laughing from the living room #and theres this other one named ellis as well #but he isnt like how tony is with gregory #vanessa just watches her kid and this other kid get reacquainted #and as more time passes she notices their relationship becomes special #tony is like a blend of gregorys old and new life and all of the good in both #and vanessa just loves seeing her kid happy #tony and vanessa both iteract sometimes but dont really talk one on one #but vanessa knows that they have a common goal #tht they want the best for gregory #and vanessa just grows fond of this other kid who seems to be attatched at the hip with hers #and starts to prepare little snacks for when he comes over when she learns more meals to make #pandas.txt #pandas talks #thoughts #beckory #detective rabbit #vanessa #gregory #3 star fam #tony

72 notes · View notes

llondonfog · 3 months

Note

For a painful soulamte au, what if the Dawn Knight was Lilias soulmate? And to make it more painful what if Dawn knew that Lilia was his soulmate somehow and still went to war with the fae because he couldn't stand to go against the family who raised him

Not a soul knew, except for Leia.

Leia knew because she knew everything about him— the leash of loyalty around his neck, the weight of despair upon his shoulders, the mark of his soulmate tattooed like a harbinger on the inside of his wrist.

Leia knew, and loved him for it all the same.

You are a knight, she would remind him on those moonless nights, delicate features as solemn as a saint as she laid her hands against the haunted hollows of his face, as merciful and sweet as her namesake. You are the only one out of them all who has the right to call himself so. What greater sacrifice have you given to my father, to our family, than the cost of love?

He loved her, too.

Her effortless charm and wit were always happy to fill his awkward and stoic silences, and she never shamed him for his reserved nature. She was a princess, born and raised to be a queen, and it sat right inside his heart that she should realize such a vision. Her kindness to their people, her kindness to her traitor of a knight— too kind, to allow him even into her arms and bed when his nerves fail him and the shadows creep in.

It's what he feels, when he places his hand on the swell of her gown, the gentle life growing inside of her: their child, steeped in kindness.

A tragic beginning that can only lead to a tragic end.

Leia is the only kindness that he's ever known, and the irony is not lost on him that she is not his soulmate, nor is he her own. She does not speak of the mark blurred and faded on her skin, and she does not press him for explanation when he disrobes for her and only her, and the bat in flight unfurls its wings upon his wrist.

She does not need to, for they both know whose standard he bears, whose symbol lays a claim that would spell betrayal and doom for his fate.

He lies there within the shelter of her embrace, her slim fingers weaving through his golden hair, and he wonders what manner of mark lies on the fae general's wrist. He wonders if it is of a gleaming sword raised to strike, or a loathsome owl, talons curled, both prepared to rid the fae of his heart and gift it to the enemy's feet. It must not be obvious, because the fae has never reacted to his presence beyond the expected vitriol to their immoral crusade. And each time that they meet, the gratitude of a coward lances through his veins for the sake of the helmet obscuring his expression— it is your eyes that give you away, Leia had murmured to him, her own dark and forgiving as they glitter in the candlelight. Your truest emotions lie within them, crystal clear and as unclouded as the brightest dawn.

He does not deserve her unshakeable belief, for he feels like the muddiest of waters, choked with debris and tainted by waste.

He does not deserve her, and as he clutches at his wrist in the night, nails all but digging into the taut flesh as if to pull the bat from his skin—

He knows that he does not deserve the general either.

59 notes · View notes

milkstoner · 1 year

Text

the fact malleus and lilia weren’t even there to witness silver’s heroic moment at the fairy gala is actually sickening… what were they so busy doing that they wouldn’t even bother to see their adoptive human put on a show AND a pacifist speech (HE EVEN ALLUDED TO LILIA) that undoubtedly improved fae-human relations. they would be so proud…

#something that haunts me is the possibility that malleus and lilia don’t show silver they care as much as he does #which is just bonkers because silver paints lilia to be like the best father ever despite his faults #and we know he has MANY faults… the going on week long trips and leaving a six year old to fend for himself being the first #close second being leaving his son without a proper physical goodbye FOREVER before his 18th birthday #fae’s conception of family is… unconventional. we know this already. but…#and malleus “lilia has a wonderful son” draconia. i have a bone to pick with you #you say good things of sebek but never of silver. in fact it feels like you’re trying to erase his existence #what’s going on here. silver is ready to die for you and his father and you rarely acknowledge him at all #and now silver is CARRYING an unprecedented milestone in fae-human relations while wearing 4 inch heels #and the both of y’all can’t even be bothered to watch the stream #it’s downright sickening.#twisted wonderland #twst #silver twst #malleus draconia #malleus twst #twst malleus #twst silver #lilia vanrouge #diasomnia

356 notes · View notes

seagull-scribbles · 1 year

Text

what if they where T4T?! What then?

#TMNT #TMNT 2012 #casey jones 2012 #that episode where Casey said I liked being a girl really expected me to ignore the comment?#no #raphael hamato #2012 raph #rasey #I mean you don’t have to ship them to appreciate the concept #idk raph has short trans man vibes I love him #toxic masculinity is him trying to act the part in a house of males #he’ll get over it dw #though I do like cos man raph dressing as a fairy princess and having feminine qualities #I also love trans man raph struggling to accept his more traditionally feminine behaviour #especially when they are only exposed to these gendered roles through old media #these two go out and beat up transphobes for a romantic date x #Raphs not got any trans stuff on because he doesn’t need to explain who he is to anyone his family knows #oh I tried so hard not to scratch and bruise them up too much #but I still can’t draw people #sorry Casey’s heads too big I’m learning #really like the shades of green on Raph though #also Raphs names always been raph splinter was a ninja he doesn’t know how to sex frenshly mutated pet turtle tots #OH QUICKLY I AM LOVING LATINA CASEY SO MUCH #these two spray paint graffiti in every ally and drop one trans or personal cultural significance reference in each #trans casey jones #trans raph #lgbt hc

175 notes · View notes

righteousenjoymentofthunder · 21 days

Text

procrastinating studying by reading fanfic... and reading the third chapter and being absolutely SLAPPED in the face with mischaracterisation. and then im like: this concept had SO MUCH potential? *goes to write the fic im thinking of*

#snape/sirius is so interesting in concept but this fic was literally mansplaining the idea of sirius being raised by blood purists and snape #being a halfblood AS IF THEY HAVENT KNOWN EACH OTHER SINCE THEY WERE 11.#(mansplaining to each other when they're 30 years old and actively on the other side of the war from each other)#also i know this is more a fanon thing but sirius would know snape is a halfblood and probably all the way back to where snape is related t #him on the wreath of british pureblood family trees #hp #harry potter #severus snape #sirius black #disclaimer that i know fanfic is written for fun and not that serious but like. spitefic motivations #marauders #fanfic #writing #posts

23 notes · View notes

todayisafridaynight · 8 months

Text

the elderly and their matching gloves

#rgg #ryu ga gotoku #yakuza series #ryu ga gotoku 7 #yakuza like a dragon #yakuza 7 #arasawa #jo sawashiro #masumi arakawa #snap sketches #i have one (1) more class today in about an hour and then im freeeeee. until 8am tomrrow 🧍‍♂️#NO IM MAD LEMME EXPLAIN so the reason why i even drew this was cause i was supposed to meet with my counselor #TO DROP THAT CLASS ACTUALLY cause i very quickly remembered conceptual art was a movement and not. Concept Art #and so here MY DUMBASS sitting in a zoom call for almost three hours waiting for him to get there #and he NEEEVVVER SHOWS UP BRO i have genuine beef with this dude he's SOO bad at responding to emails and showing up for zoom #oh well.... at least i can give everyone old people...#i almost binned this but i liked arakawa's face too much. also i NEVER DRAW THEM OLD I NEED TO POST WHAT I GOT #i actually have more doodles in mind- i had a sawashiro sketch that i didnt like but i really wanna make the concept work #and then i was thinking of a Not Depressing Comic so. yay.#LISTEN we know i love angst and putting everyone through The Horrors but i just wanna see them happy...#ok bye im gonna. Hm.#idk actually i only have an hour and im already dressed for class #i guess ill try sketching out that comic..#BYE

82 notes · View notes

quirkle2 · 4 months

Text

who wants zombie au writing. don't answer that ur getting it anyway (1.6k words)

His shoes knock against the old flooring of the house, wood creaking under rubber soles that slide over the woodgrain. He drags them a bit, lifts his limbs up no more than he strictly has to, and they lead him to the nearest sittable surface.

The couch is old and dusty and has likely gone untouched for months, much like everything else nowadays, so he watches the thin cloud of dust billow off the cushions largely with disinterest. He collapses into the fabric heavily, feels the whole thing scoot back an inch and hit the wall behind him. The sound echoes, carried by lifeless rooms, while he unceremoniously drops his backpack to the floor by his feet.

The breath he lets out is slow and methodical and born of pent up muscles, aimed at the ceiling where he rests his neck against the back of the couch and relaxes every limb one by one. It’s a process he forces himself through, if only to rid the constant ache beneath his skin.

Slow, sweeping footsteps meander around the room in front of him, and Ritsu angles his gaze down from his craned back position to look at his brother. He wanders, like he so often does—seemingly aimless, but there’s something procedural about it that he’s convinced he just hasn’t figured out yet.

Shigeo’s empty eyes crawl along the hearth of the fireplace, explosions of ash sprayed out across the red brick. His head tilts up to trace his attention around the angular lines of the television, hung on the wall and screen grey with dust. He flits back and forth between the roundness of the bricked mantle and the sharp edges of the screen, like he’s taking notes.

Shigeo paws the television. Four lines of muck are cleared. The zombie blinks, paws at it again with dusty, curious fingers. Ritsu watches him make a mess of the television screen in silence, blinking tiredly.

He almost closes his eyes, but he fights against the urge and moves his fingers down his lap to reach for his bag. His middle hooks around the loop at the top and he lugs it up and into his lap, where he unzips it and peers into the shadowy contents.

Ritsu fishes out the water bottles. He finds the one with the messy R scribbled along the cap in sharpie and takes a big swig of it. It’s warm going down, constantly insulated in a bag of old, sweaty clothes. He feels like he can taste the odor in it, but it clears the grain in his throat from stomping all over dirt roads today, so he’s still grateful.

He holds out the one labeled S to Shigeo. “Thirsty?”

Shigeo looks at him from where he’s crouched down to the floor now, inspecting the soot along the hearth. Unfortunately, he sees handprints in the black already, and when his brother reaches a hand out to take it, his palm is covered in soot.

He lets him have his fun and settles his own bottle back in the mess of tangled clothes and rolls of bandages. Ritsu rakes his fingers through their stock with no real purpose—he knows exactly what’s in here, and none of it is useful.

They’d been searching all day; Ritsu doesn’t really know how far they’d walked, but it had to be a lot of miles. In and out of stores, up and down empty houses, weaving between warehouses—they didn’t really stop for a break. Not when Ritsu can hear Shigeo’s stomach from here and he himself has shaking hands. They can’t afford a break.

Nothing, though. Not a single goddamn thing worth taking. A settlement must have come through here long ago and swept the highway. They’re in the countryside, where houses are spaced out acres from each other and there’s entire cow pastures between properties. And yet every house they’d seen and entered provided nothing.

Ritsu stares into the negative space in his bag where there should be supplies. His stomach cramps and if he smells another whiff of that godawful sweaty, bloody sweatshirt he still carries, he’s going to throw up bile.

He leans away from the open pouch, eyes wandering to his brother who draws… something into the soot of the hearth. His water bottle sits on the floor, abandoned and still unscrewed. Ritsu leans forward with great effort and a grunt, leaning over his bag to grab at the top of it.

It takes him two tries to get Shigeo’s attention, and one more for an answer on where the cap is. It’s then placed in his palm, covered in soot and also saliva. Ritsu swallows down the nausea that rolls up his throat and wipes it off with his frankly already disgusting sleeve, and screws it back on.

He leans back again, succumbing to the urge to let his eyes rest, and he listens to the very subtle swipe of his brother’s hands across brick. There’s birds outside, chirping, and even though it’s still very much a common occurrence, Ritsu cannot help but feel nostalgic about it.

If he ignores the awful hum of silence, and the distinct lack of an electric thrum throughout the walls, and the fact that this is a stranger’s couch and not his, he can almost imagine normalcy. He can almost say this feels like those quiet moments after school, when he settles on the couch and scrolls through his phone in a house that only holds him and his brother because their parents simply aren’t home yet.

He can almost hear the creak of wood from Shigeo walking around his room upstairs. He can almost tap his fingers on the couch cushions to the pattern of his brother making his way down the steps. He can almost hear the fridge opening, and the sound of milk being poured into glass.

Almost. But Ritsu listens to sharp silence instead, and he tries not to think too hard.

He drifts for a while, feels himself truly sink into the couch and let the cushions claim him, and he thinks about nothings because if he doesn’t, then he’ll lose it. He carefully sifts through the nothingness of his mind, through the passing thoughts that have no bearing, and he focuses on that, on the lack of substance. His head is too full of things that have too much substance.

He misses boredom. He tells himself he misses boredom—the complete insubstantiality of it—because if he lets himself think of what he really misses, it’ll drive him insane.

The cushions move, and Ritsu peels his eyes open and lets himself get pulled from liminal mindspace. The cotton in his head recedes, and he blinks, and then he’s swiveling his head to look at his brother who sits in the cushion right next to him.

His hands and the cuffs of his hoodie are smothered in black. Shigeo sits hunched, gaze still wandering even when there’s not much decoration in this house to look at. He studies the off-white walls, the chips in the paint, the holes drilled in where there maybe used to be photos hung.

Ritsu gazes at him quietly, chest instinctively rising and falling to match his brother’s rhythm. He watches the expansion there, under his hoodie, in the subtlety of the folds and the way they warp over the movement. It’s slightly quicker than what he’s used to, but Ritsu knows his brother’s heart rate is much slower. He’s felt it before. He’s listened to it before, with his ear against a chest.

Ritsu’s attention moves to his eyes, and the heavy bags underneath them, and the paleness of his pupils and the ghostlight of him underneath that. He stares into them, looks for stray, familiar thoughts that might enter his head. Looks for old memories that might shine through in the form of recognition when he sees furniture layouts, and candy wrappers, and ads for soda.

Ritsu looks for it all the time, that glint of familiarity. And he finds it, sometimes. And really, he thinks that’s keeping him going more than food ever will.

Shigeo turns his head, and looks at him. Sometimes, when his brother looks at him, there’s not much there. No substance, no anything. And Ritsu finds it a bit evil that he craves silence in his own head, and yet noise in Shigeo’s, and often times it is the other way around.

His brother looks at him now, though, with that comforting recognition. That growth of the pupils, that softening of the hard edges of his face where unknown stressors have gotten to him. Ritsu wonders what zombies get stressed out. He figures it’s the same deal with humans, considering they’re largely alike.

Ritsu wonders if Shigeo knows he’s sick. He wishes he could ask him. He wishes for a lot of things. Silence in his own head is one of them.

Ritsu swivels his head away and stares at the ceiling, if only to force the thoughts to pause. He studies the popcorn ridges above them, traces the peaks with his gaze. It calms him, gives him something to focus on. He looks for patterns in the shadows they make.

Shigeo shifts next to him. And then he shimmies down, settles into the cushions, and plops his head right down on Ritsu’s shoulder.

Static roars in his mind and his heart stammers. Ritsu swallows the lump in his throat but that just makes it bigger, so he clamps his mouth shut and breathes carefully through his nose.

The tears cut through the grime on his face. He plops his own head down against his brother’s, and lives in the noise.

#qkwrites #zombie au #hi <3 #why am i nervous to share this . jayshut up #just to be clear this isn't going to be a full fic #i don't ? believe in my ability to write a Good zombie apocalypse story #at least one in a novel-like layout yaknow #partly bc i know i'll struggle w the logistics and consistency #but also bc i haven't seen a whole lot of zombie media before #i've never watched the walking dead i've never seen any of the popular zombie movies or shows #i think i watched zombieland 2 once ... the one with woody harrelson and thatone guy #uhm. he looks a bit like michael cera but he's Not michael cera. im not crazy he Does resemble him #jesse eisenberg there it is #but that's.the extent of my experience with zombie things #so i!!! wouldn't know if im just making overdone cliche shit #i prolly already am.this concept is prolly old news. i wouldn't know i don't fucking watch zombie stuff VGEAIYVA #idk.my confidence for this isn't there so im not makin it a fic even tho i kinda want to #but i do still wanna write them. so any zombie au writing will be in little micro-scenes like this <3 #some of em might be bigger than others idk yet. we'll see #i Thought i could call this a drabble. but then i learned that drabbles are literally supposed to be exactly 100 words #this is . notthat GVIYEAGVA #ritsu kageyama #mp100 ritsu #mp100 shigeo #mp100 mob #shigeo kageyama #i feel bad putting this in the main tags but.i mean it Does pertain ....#not the mp100 tag tho . iwon't do that to u

26 notes · View notes