#*and scene*

[w1ld-wr1t3r]

I'm not even 15 minutes into rewatching Interstellar and I think there is a chance my imagination is running wild again . . .

I have at least half a loose fic plot already hELP.

[easypeasylindyvesey]

is the ‘tremendous amount of confidence in jimmy’ in the room with us???

[echo-goes-mmm]

Divine Intervention AU #2

Masterpost

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Warnings: implied past starvation

The masters rode at a walk, and Plaything was grateful for the pace. He could keep up well enough, but as the morning turned to afternoon his feet became sore. He had no shoes, not even footwraps, and the stone streets were not forgiving. 

They moved gradually out of the city, into the fields. The masters chatted with each other, and Plaything could pick out a few words he recognized. Maybe their home was close by? Plaything had seen maps before, but couldn’t read the words. He only knew the sea was to the east, and that his old master lived far from it.

They were headed west, judging by the sun. 

They were taking him out of the country.

By sundown, they were well past the fields and had entered the woods. The masters turned off to the side of the road, to a well worn campsite. They tied their horses to a weathered post and they began to graze. Plaything sat down heavily and examined his feet. They were raw, small cuts littering the tops, and they felt so so sore.

The weather was cooling now, and one of his masters started a fire in the crumbling stone circle. The other began to unload the horses. He grabbed what must be their bedrolls and three sizable satchels. He sat them near the fire, and came back over, towards Plaything. 

He looked him up and down. The master tutted at the state of his feet, and reached down to untie him.

He led him closer towards the fire, the warmth finally reaching Plaything’s skin. 

“Sit.”

He sat.

The master called to the other, and they spoke for a minute. One of them pulled some cloth and a knife from his bag. Plaything was handed one of the satchels and a flask. 

“Eat.”

Plaything peered into the bag. It held several apples, a smaller bag of jerky, and a whole small loaf of bread. The flask had water.

“You will carry these until we reach home.”

Plaything was no stranger to stretching out food.

“Yes, master.”

The man's lips stretched into a thin line. What did he do wrong? 

“No,” he said. “We bought you for someone else. Do not call us ‘Master’ again.”

Cryptic and weird and bad.

“Yes, sir.”

Plaything began to eat an apple. He watched as the men continued to set up for the night. 

One of the handed Plaything some strips of fabric and a blanket.

“Wrap your feet.” Thank the gods. 

The men cooked and ate their dinner, which looked much more interesting than Plaything’s. They tied his ankles together and one wrist to a nearby post, with enough length to lie down and stay warm.

The men fell asleep quickly, but Plaything’s mind kept him awake.

Who did they buy him for?

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight

[crythartic]

* Won't you play again, Kris?

[miikpal]

battered and bruised

[fl3a-bag]

It’s their greatest invention as of yet

[swedenis-h]

Wife lovers till they die

[jordanbolton]

To The Painters of Pompeii - Jordan Bolton

My first book ‘Blue Sky Through the Window of a Moving Car’ is out now! Get it here - https://smarturl.it/BlueSky

[colliholly]

so you're telling me everyone got a little abnormal about that one Tenna sprite

[runby2]

very specific situation that happens to me and my partners a lot

[shithowdy]

found this cool branch in the woods. i want to mount it but i need to make sure it's clean before i nail it anywhere.

[pc98-rom]

[frownyalfred]

Tips for writing those gala scenes, from someone who goes to them occasionally:

Generally you unbutton and re-button a suit coat when you sit down and stand up.

You’re supposed to hold wine or champagne glasses by the stem to avoid warming up the liquid inside. A character out of their depth might hold the glass around the sides instead.

When rich/important people forget your name and they’re drunk, they usually just tell you that they don’t remember or completely skip over any opportunity to use your name so they don’t look silly.

A good way to indicate you don’t want to shake someone’s hand at an event is to hold a drink in your right hand (and if you’re a woman, a purse in the other so you definitely can’t shift the glass to another hand and then shake)

Americans who still kiss cheeks as a welcome generally don’t press lips to cheeks, it’s more of a touch of cheek to cheek or even a hover (these days, mostly to avoid smudging a woman’s makeup)

The distinctions between dress codes (black tie, cocktail, etc) are very intricate but obvious to those who know how to look. If you wear a short skirt to a black tie event for example, people would clock that instantly even if the dress itself was very formal. Same thing goes for certain articles of men’s clothing.

Open bars / cash bars at events usually carry limited options. They’re meant to serve lots of people very quickly, so nobody is getting a cosmo or a Manhattan etc.

Members of the press generally aren’t allowed to freely circulate at nicer galas/events without a very good reason. When they do, they need to identify themselves before talking with someone.

[cosmicretreat]

Bruce Campbell, his dad, and his body doubles on the set of Army of Darkness (1992)

[artsekey]

I hope they’re both stupid and also friends, that is all

(Inspired by the fact you can get to the top of the stairs at the start of Chapter 4.)