haha hey bro cant help but notice that there are multiple supply caches and autosaves leading up to me entering your chamber for that quick chat you wanted. just a quick chat though right haha. just a quick chat right
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2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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haha hey bro cant help but notice that there are multiple supply caches and autosaves leading up to me entering your chamber for that quick chat you wanted. just a quick chat though right haha. just a quick chat right

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Endless ACOFAF
Woe beau, jes, and molly be upon ye
Stargazer, Stargazer
Of the Old Path đą

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todays warm up: The Abbey is full of ghosts again and it couldn't be a happier place
little spark
Cringetober 2025 Day 1: Overpowered
She's just saving it for later <3
Stitch yourself together with thread of gold
If youâre familiar with my work you might recognize this piece, since itâs the cover illustration for my art bookâ¨
An old woman will arrive at the station at 2:47 AM, she will not have enough money to pay the fare, let her in anyway. She will then board an unscheduled train at 3:00 AM. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO TURN HER AWAY UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES.
It was either a joke or some train executive's wife, that's what I thought when my manager gave me those specific instructions.
He proceeded to stress them again three more times during orientation. No biggie, I figured, and set a reminder on my phone for 2:45 just to be safe. Other than that I was just shown how to work the ticketing machine and where to find the spare D Batteries for the ancient flashlight they provided me with.
At 11:50 PM the last scheduled train departed. By 00:20 AM all the disembarked passengers had milled off. There was only one other person at the platform, a young homeless man missing a leg. Probably a veteran of one war or the other, there had been so many recently. He was sleeping on one of the benches. My manager had said I was to politely urge any passengers remaining after midnight to leave. He did not seem like a passenger so I let him sleep. It is how I was raised.
At 2:45 AM my alarm went off. I put aside my book, made sure my booth was tidy in case the executive's wife or mother or whoever would come was going to inspect it.
At 2:47 AM she was there.
I did not hear a car, nor approaching footsteps. The Babusia was simply there when she had not been before. A heavily wrinkled old woman, with a crooked nose and a scarf tied around her brittle-looking grey hair. A knobbly wooden walking stick was held by an equally knobbly left hand. She did not seem like the mother of some rich rail tycoon. She reminded me of my grandmother.
But I had never met my grandmother.
"One ticket, please." she requested in a firm voice, placing a small handful of coins on the counter without looking up at me. Most of the coins were obsolete Kopeks, and even counting those it was not enough for half a ticket, but as I was told before I nodded my head and accepted her money. "Of course. "
It suddenly occured to me that I was not told how to print a ticket for this unscheduled train. Before I could remark about it, I saw that the ticket was already at the mouth of the machine. It was green, with red lettering, something the black-and-white printer should not have made. But yet it did. The printing seemed in cyrillic of some sort, but I could not read it.
"Your ticket." I presented, and without thinking added "Do you require assistance to climb the platform stairs, grandmother?" It is how I was raised.
"Yes. Assist me." she replied curtly, beginning to shuffle slowly through the dark station towards the platform. I locked up my booth, and caught up with her just before the stairs. I switched on my heavy flashlight with my right hand, and offered the woman my right to brace herself. Her grip was strong. She probably would have had no issue climbing by herself, but assisting a grandmother was always the right thing to do, even when her sharp fingernails dug painfully into my palm.
We arrived at the platform. The clock hanging from the ceiling read 2:56. She released my hand and took a few steps, then looked at the sleeping man on the bench. "A friend of yours?" she asked. I thought about lying; if she was truly an executive's family, perhaps hosting a friend would be a lighter offense than turning a blind eye?
"No, grandmother." I responded truthfully. "He is not breaking the rules, so I left him alone." It is how I was raised.
The woman hummed. She seemed taller than before. Taller than me. The night draped her shoulders like a shaul and my torch did not reach it. Her gray hair shone like woven starlight, and her eyes were the night sky. I could not look away.
"You are a well-mannered girl." she said, her voice echoing in my ears like silence. She placed something small and hard in my hand.
A train arrived. It had only one car. I think it had a steam engine. It may have walked on chicken legs. I could not look at it.
The Grandmother boarded her train without another word. I was alone in a perfectly dull train station. Almost. The homeless woman behind me mumbled and stretched her legs in her sleep.
In my hand was a wrapped piece of hard candy.
This makes me happy in particular because that's exactly what I was going for
Every time someone leaves kind words in the comments it makes my day! Even if I don't reply to each and every one (mostly because I can't think of something to say usually) I love it, so thank you all!

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Welcome MerMay!
đ¨ by Annie Stegg
sometimes I really like the things I make :-)
what do you know, Iâm just a bad believer đ
[ID: a digital half-body drawing of Tyranny from Critical Role with her hands raised in prayer as she looks at the viewer with a slight smile. She is framed by symmetrical patterns - a circle behind her head inlaid with moon phase patterns, stars and diamond shapes, a smaller circle at the top center with a red, stylized sun inside it and in the top left and right corner are mirrored hearts pierced by arrows, wrapped in thorny vines and gushing blood. End ID]
By caitlynmarieprints
Necromancer that doesnât know theyâre a necromancer and thinks theyâre just a really good emt
That is the funniest thing i have ever read
the thing was, she wasnât going to be able to pass the recertification exam, and she couldnât figure out why. annabelle studied. she practiced. she pulled out every trick and shortcut sheâd learned during her two years as an EMT and none of it worked. she just â she didnât get it. it made no sense.
âwake up,â she urged the dummy, pressing her hands to the pulse points on its wrists. âcome on. what the fuck.â
âyeah, i donât think that asking nicely is going to do the trick,â hank said, his eyebrows raised. his helmet, the special one theyâd decorated for him with craft supplies from michaelâs when heâd gotten promoted to firestation chief, sat askew on his head. âi can see now why they didnât pass you.â
annabelle rolled her eyes. âitâs a psychological thing,â she said. âitâs like, you give the brain an instruction and it follows naturally. and the pulse-point thing always works. i donât know why itâs not, like, in any of the books, but i swear to god itâs worked for me every time.â
it was true that annabelle had the best record on low body counts, which was good because she was the smallest person on the team not counting Georgie, who was a corgi. jake and lillian were always making fun of her for having been the shortest of their whole rookie class. but it hadnât ever been a problem before; annabelle rarely had to carry anybody out, because she was good enough at getting them on their feet.
but none of that would matter if she couldnât pass her stupid recertification exam, because theyâd take her badge and sheâd have to go be, like, a doctor or something.
hank blew out a long breath and sunk down to where she was kneeling on the station floor in full fire gear, giving CPR to the practice dummy, whom they called dierdre. there was a little light that went on when youâd saved its life. it had been a dull gray for an hour now.
âlook, AB. i know youâre a good firefighter, and i know you know how to deliver CPR. just do it like you do it during an emergency. youâre overthinking it.â
âbut this is what i do during an emergency!â annabelle cried, throwing her hands up. âi put my hands on their pulse points and i use psychological mumbo-jumbo and they just get up and walk!âÂ
hank blinked. ââŚreally,â he said, voice flat. âpeople whoâve been inhaling smoke for half an hour just ⌠get up and walk.â
âthe brain is an incredibly powerful organ,â said annabelle, shrugging. âlook man, i donât know, okay? but it works. i havenât had to actually do CPR in like a year and a half.â
he gave her a long, quiet look and said, âwellâŚ.huh,â before pushing himself back up onto his feet and frowning off into the distance. âkeep practicing,â he said after a minute, and left her there.
-
hank switched her team.
âwhat the fuck, man,â she said, sliding into the truck next to him as the sirens went on. âi canât get CPR on one fucking dummy and suddenly you donât trust me to do my job without supervision?â
carl and bethany very carefully did not meet her eyes in the rearview from the backseat. bethany pulled a magazine from beneath the seat and said loudly, âlook, carl, jennifer aniston and brad pitt are getting back together.â
âthank christ,â said carl. âiâve been really worried about jen.â
hank gave annabelle the flat look that had gotten him promoted to firestation chief in the first place, the one that said iâm your dad and you donât want to disappoint me. as always, annabelle wilted underneath it, sliding down in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest. it was a difficult feat in full gear but she wanted him to know she was feeling sullen.
âi trust you completely,â hank told her, his voice a light scold. âi want to see you in action so i can help you figure out whatâs going wrong with the dummies. sometimes itâs hard for the brain to accurately remember everything that happens during a crisis.â
annabelle rolled her eyes. âi told you,â she said. âitâs just â itâs the same thing every time, Iâm not like, blacking out.â
âgreat, then iâm about to learn a cool new trick,â hank said serenely, and pulled the truck out of the lot. annabelle kept her gaze focused out of the window, watching the city pass as carl and bethany talked loudly about which celebrities were dating which other celebrities and who wore what better. she tried to swallow down the nerves that tightened her throat. maybe the dummy was right. maybe she was doing something else and didnât remember it. maybe the last two years had been a fluke and she had no business being a firefighter. maybe she was about to get fired.
there wasnât a fire, though the alarm was going off. instead they found a bag of smoking popcorn and the collapsed heap of a forty-five year old bachelor type, down to just his boxers and a pair of slippers with llamas on them. he had no pulse.Â
hank held carl and bethany back, directing them to deal with the smoke from the popcorn; annabelle he pointed toward the resident with a jerk of his chin.Â
she sighed, kneeling by his side. she pressed her hands flat to his heart and then dragged them across his chest and down each arm, to his wrists. with her thumbs on his pulse point, she hissed, âletâs go, man. up and at âem. youâre not meant to die in your underwear while cooking popcorn, come on.â
she held her breath for a few moments, conscious of hankâs eyes on her, and let out a long sigh of relief when she felt his pulse jump beneath her, watched his eyes flicker. âwhat the fuck?â he asked, voice a croak. âwhat happened?â
âyou gotta eat more vegetables, bud,â annabelle told him, and looped his arm over her shoulders to help him get to his feet. she was so relieved she could have wept, but instead met hankâs eyes with a challenging glare. see? she thought. i told you. âletâs get you to the ambulance.â
-
âthe bad news is that you have a lot of practicing to do if you want to pass your recert,â hank said without preamble, showing up at her apartment. she didnât think sheâd ever seen him in jeans before. it was weird. âthe good news is i understand your problem now.â
annabelle stepped aside, beckoning him in. âwhat problem?â she demanded. âit worked! you saw it work. thatâs the opposite of a problem.â
hank shrugged. he handed her a trifold that heâd clearly printed off at home. it said so you think youâre a necromancer. annabelle blinked down at it, and then up at hank, and then down at the trifold again. âi ⌠donât understand whatâs happening here,â she told him honestly.Â
âiâm not in the community and theyâre kind of cagey, so i canât really tell you a lot,â hank told her, stilted and visibly uncomfortable. âbut i have a cousin who is, and um, i just want you to know that this doesnât change anything. youâre still who youâve always been and you have my complete support. weâll figure out how to get around the recert. maybe iâll â i can put you on admin duty to give you time to study. weâll say itâs because of an injury.â
âhank,â annabelle said, with some urgency. âhank, this flier says the word necromancer.â
âyes,â agreed hank, looking relieved. âoh, good, youâve heard of it already. i thought i was going to have to have the whole your body is changing talk.â
annabelle shook her head. âno, i â hank. you know that ⌠um, you know that necromancy isnât real, right? people canât bring other people back from the dead. thatâs crazy.â
âannabelle, not four hours ago you instructed a dead man to stand up and he did.â
âokay, he wasnât dead, obviously. he was almost dead, at best.â
âno. he was dead.â
âi felt his pulse! it was very faint!â
âyou called his pulse. no one else would have felt it, because it wasnât there except in response to you.â
âhank, what the fuck.â
he shrugged. âread the flier,â he instructed. âand bring dierdre home with you. youâre going to have to practice a lot if you want to get recertified, considering you havenât one time had to use any of the skills you learned the first go around.â
he bussed her temple as he went by, letting himself out of her apartment with a friendly wave. annabelle looked down at the flier in her hand with a frown. when she unfolded it, the first page said, everyoneâs necromancy journey is different, but most people discover their gift by accident. have you ever brought a pet back to life? touched an elderly relatives hand and seen some of the color flood back into their face? or perhaps, more subtly, been able to keep cut flowers alive long past their purchase date?
annabelle looked at her kitchen table. sheâd had the same vase of tulips on it since she moved in, three years ago. it was true they periodically started to wilt, but she usually just changed their water and they were fine, popping back up one after the other as she slid them into the fresh vase.Â
âwell shit,â annabelle said, letting the flier fall from her hands.
Tumblerians tumblrites and tumblers, all and alike make writing and art prompts out of things that werenât meant to be and that is a beauty beyond compare. Thank you members of tumblr for the amazing stories and art and for sharing it with the small world that is this website.

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I think what I love most about mythology is that the âTrickster God/Spiritâ is an archetypical character found in almost every body of folklore. Itâs like âOh, hereâs our God of the Sun, our God of the Sea, our God of Fertility, and our God of Being A Wretched Little Gremlin Who Causes Problems On Purposeâ
It just feels right