#Thank you for the distraction!

[miradelletarot]

Gale Distraction Time:

I wonder how many times Gale is thrown off by Tav's very minor, normal yet caring, actions once things are said and done in their adventures. Or hell, things that could have happened in down time at camp that were too minute to really put a whole cutscenes towards. Things that seems so ordinary, but that Gale has done without for so long he doesn't even recognize.

Examples that come to my mind.

Throwing a blanket over him if he's reading and seems cold.

Handing him the next ingredient he needs while he's cooking.

Taking his hand to massage pressure points when he has a headache or muscles when he makes a straining noise.

A random hug from behind when he's struggling with some research at his desk.

Bringing him a drink or snack when he's been too immersed in a project to realize they're needed.

I could probably continue for a while, but point is, he has been on his own too long. Tara can only do so much. And even when he was with Mystra, you know it's not a relationship he was cared for in this manner. He'd do something for himself once it became necessary, but to have somebody think of it, and help or comfort? Just simple actions like this, I think, for him, would be foreign for some time.

Oh these are just lovely! Maybe I am biased, but I totally see Sagora doing all of this for Gale...especially as feelings develop during their adventure. Of course, I imagine any Tav would be this sweet to our favorite wizard. **this post inspired a little (sfw) treato so i hope you like it lol** _____________ You notice Gale was unusually absent from this evening's dinner around the campfire. It wasn't like him to call for supper then suddenly leave for his tent. You decide to give him some space for now, and eat your meal with the others, but the nagging in the back of your mind sours your appetite. You walk over to his tent and, upon hearing the shuffling of books within, you call out his name softly so as not to startle him. "Oh...Tav. Come in." His usually cheerful tone was strained, and weary. When you walk in you see that the book he was trying to read is splayed out on his lap, open to the page he left off on, and his head buried in his hands as he tries to massage his temples. He groans inwardly trying to will away whatever pain he's feeling. You kneel beside him, and gently place your hand on his thigh, gazing at him with worried eyes. "Here," you say softly, as you take one of his hands between both of yours. "Just relax." Your warm whisper hums in the space between you, and his head lulls back against the heap of pillows he's created for himself. You begin to knead the soft flesh between his thumb and pointer finger, massaging it slightly until you search for the pressure point. He inhales sharply, wincing at the jolt of pain that courses through his hand. It takes seconds for him to exhale, his shoulders dropping along with his escaping breath as the tension begins to melt. "Gods," he breathed. "I don't know what you're doing exactly...but it seems to be having a wonderous effect on this cursed headache." You smile as you slowly release his pressure point, and massage his hand. You gently set his hand down on his lap, and reach for the other, repeating your ministrations just as before. When you place his other hand in his lap, you shift to get a better angle, and begin to massage his temples, his scalp, even reaching for his hairbrush, and combing through his wavy locks in hopes that the repeated care will help soothe him further. It's only when you notice that not only are his eyes closed, his breathing has slipped into a soft, even rhythm. "Gale?" You whisper.

Silence. You smile softly at how beautiful he looks when he's asleep...at peace. It takes a great deal of effort to move through the tent without tripping on a book, or a stack of parchment he's left lying around, but you manage, and fetch a thin blanket that's sitting at the foot of his bedroll. Without even moving the book from his lap, you fan the blanket out with a soft flick, and float it down over the sleeping wizard. "Goodnight, Gale."

[krirebr]

Oh I have a thought and a question? Do you think Curtis is a good cook?

Cause imagine him knowing you have a meeting at work you’re dreading and coming home to either a 5 course meal or him swearing as he burnt himself trying to make your favourite food

Ooooo! Ok, I could definitely see this going either way. I've head-canoned that Curtis, but especially IKISKB!Curtis really enjoys cooking so he'd definitely have a very special meal all ready to go!

But I don’t know, there's something really charming about him trying so hard to do something nice that doesn't come naturally to him. Like, if I came home to him trying so hard because he cares about me, I'd be so touched. It wouldn't matter if it didn't work out. 💜

[exhuastedpigeon]

im so sorry about your partner!! hope they're okay 🥺 to distract you, what are your too five favorite songs for buddie?? 💗

Thanks bud ♥️♥️

I have so many favourite buddie songs, it’s kind of a problem. I’ve got a whole playlist called “you can have my back any day” that I throw on shuffle when I need inspiration.

I think my top five this week are probably:

True Blue by boygenius

I saw them play this song live and couldn’t help but cry at the buddie of it all.

“You’ve never done me wrong except for that one time that we don’t talk about because it doesn’t matter anymore. Who won’t the fight? I don’t know, we’re not keeping score”

“It feels good to be know so well. I can hide from you like I hide from myself”

Think of Me by Madi Diaz

This is my favourite angsty Buddie song. The chorus goes -

I hope you fuck her with your eyes closed, and think of me. I hope you love her with the lights low, oh and think of me. I hope you fuck her with your eyes closed, put the shade off with some benzos, swallow the the feeling while you walk home. And think of me always. Think of me think of me always.

It RUINS me thinking about Buck feeling that way when Eddie was with Ana or Eddie when Bucks with Taylor or Natalia 😭

The Heart is a Muscle by Gang of Youths

This whole song, but especially these lyrics

“I wanna be loved, I wanna be whole again so tuck my hair behind my ears and touch my soul again, The window is wide, the post unfulfilled And I just ask you to be patient if you'll have me still”

Heavy by Birdtalker

This song has so many moments that kick me in the feelings but the line “I want to see your sadness, I want to share your sin. I want to be in your blood and and I want to let you in”

Tomorrow by Shakey Graves

Truly this entire song, but one of my all time favourite lyrics is “the closest I’ve come to perfection is when you turn around to steal a kiss”

[unforth]

Gentle reminder that very little fandom labor is automated, because I think people forget that a lot.

That blog with a tagging system you love? A person curates those tags by hand.

That rec blog with a great organization scheme and pretty graphics? Someone designed and implemented that organization scheme and made those graphics.

That network that posts a cool variety of stuff? People track down all that variety and queue it by hand, and other people made all the individual pieces.

That post with umpteen links to helpful resources, and information about them? Someone gathered those links, researched the sources, wrote up the information about them.

That graphic about fandom statistics? Someone compiled those statistics, analyzed them, organized them, figured out a useful way to convey the information to others, and made the post.

That event that you think looks neat? Someone wrote the rules, created the blogs and Discords, designed the graphics, did their best to promo the event so it'd succeed.

None of this was done automatically. None of it just appears whole out of the internet ether.

I think everyone realizes that fic writing and fanart creation are work, and at least some folks have got it through their heads that gif creation and graphics and moodboards take effort, and meta is usually respected for the effort that goes into it, at least as far as I've seen, but I feel like a lot of people don't really get how much labor goes into curation, too.

If people are creating resources, curating content, organizing the creations of others, gathering information, and doing other fandom activities that aren't necessarily the direct action of creation, they're doing a lot of fandom labor, and it's often largely unrecognized.

Celebrate fan work!

To folks doing this kind of labor: I see you, and I thank you. You are the backbones of our fandoms and I love you.

[batbabydamian]

Jorge Jimenez C2E2 2024 Commission!

[gracelesstars]

SHUT UP, IT’S HIS MOMENT! THERE’RE NO MORE IMPORTANT NEWS THAN THE ANGEL BEING GAY!!! 

(news source for those who don’t understand this)

[lcs-scar]

unique means of communication

[bycaprinae]

Wouldn't expect less for Season 6 🙏

Based on a conversation i had on twitter

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Danse Macabre

[Commission]

[emry-stars-art]

@neilimfinejosten said coffee shop au last month so you’ll never guess what I’ve been thinking about

A few thoughts under the cut!

Andrew works at a coffee shop in a college town, so far with all the foxes except Aaron, and Neil’s been far away on the run. I’ve been putting Robin in this one and I bet Seth hangs around the shop for Allison. Aaron will pick up a shift or two but mostly he’s focusing on school.

Anyway one day in a cold winter a new guy comes into the shop looking to warm up, and Andrew just happens to be working the register (rare). It’s hard to tell with the mask, but this guy doesn’t seem to be much older than him or the team, and Andrew can catch glances of bandages and band-aids under his clothes.

He becomes a regular through winter, but none of the baristas can decide on his name because he gives a different one every time he comes in.

[psychotic-nonsense]

"I'm sorry."

It's the first thing Steve says after everything.

After getting Vecna Cursed. After nearly dying. After a hallucination of Eddie saved him. After running through a looped forest. After finding sanctuary in Steve's memory of that Starcourt bathroom. After Eddie reveals himself as Eddie.

It's the only thing he can think of. It's not big enough to fit everything, but it's the only thing that fits in his mouth.

"Don't be."

Maybe that's the only thing Eddie can think of too. The only thing Eddie can bear to say.

Because don't be can't stop Steve's eyes from watering when he sees the vest in his closet. Don't be can't stop Steve's feet from dragging him to the cemetery every evening to clean Eddie's graffiti-covered tombstone. Don't be can't stop Steve from sitting beside Wayne and listening to him talk about the Eddie he remembers. Don't be can't stop Eddie's body from showing up in Steve's dreams, nor Eddie's corpse from his nightmares. Don't be couldn't keep the pain away enough, didn't stop Vecna from latching onto it while Steve was walking alone in the woods.

Don't be isn't enough for what Steve wants to hear. But even stuck here waiting, hoping, for someone to get Steve out, there just isn't enough time.

"I miss you."

"...Why?"

Eddie says it back so quickly, so quietly, like it's just unfathomable to him. Maybe it is, considering their last memories. But their eyes meet and he looks just as sad, just as longing, as Steve.

"You were my friend."

Steve can't help but say it like that. Like they were friends for years instead of days. Like Eddie was that important to him in their final moments. Like his heart really aches for Eddie every second of the apocalypse.

Can't help but say it like he means it.

"I wish we could've had more time..."

Steve's voice cracks a little there as he turns away, hiding. It's all he wants. It's all Vecna used to entice him with. It's all that's keeping him going, to finally fulfill the last request Eddie made. It's all he has left to feel close to Eddie.

The Eddie that's sitting right next to him, silent, his sight weighing on Steve's skin. Conscious and aware and the real Eddie. Trapped in Vecna's head as a backup power source, yet who still risked everything to come save Steve. Who Steve will never see again because killing Vecna means killing Eddie for good, and his heart doesn't want it, is begging for another solution...

But for once, his broken head overpowers his shattered heart.

"Maybe we did."

Eddie takes Steve's hand. Meets Steve's surprised look with his own small smile of hope. They're both suddenly tearing up, eyes glistening with life in this gray stall.

"Maybe in another world, we got a second first chance. A first second chance. Maybe even a third, or fourth. Maybe in a different life, we had everything we wanted. Because you, Steve Harrington, are too good for me to be doomed to meet just once."

And for a moment, Steve sees it. Feels it. Versions of them connected through the universe.

Little kids playing in the lake. One with bruised skin and shaved hair, loud but unfathomably lonely. One with a bruised heart and soft eyes, timid but stubbornly hopeful.

A rockstar with glittering chains, center stage in the spotlight. A set of eyes in the crowd or behind the curtain, watching only him.

A werewolf and a vampire, two cryptids of horror, meeting in the dead of a full moon night to feel safe with the only other one who understands.

A future where they won, where the only death was the one that mattered. A process of healing and learning, coming home to a family every single day.

A world without pain, without their hell, where two high schoolers found freedom from their shackles and company in each other. Hiding away together in the dark corners of the town.

Steve even sees other versions of them. Versions that he knows were originally never supposed to meet, yet forces so much greater than them pulled them together.

A metalhead drug dealer, constantly getting into trouble with one nail-bat-weilding cop.

A criminal's fugitive nature leading him to a rugged trailer park, and the dangerous owner within one such home.

An eccentric king in an old coliseum, always choosing one particular warrior as his champion.

A young programmer being pulled away from his work by sobs above his apartment, running upstairs to check on the law student that recently moved in.

Two actors, finding an easy friendship in the months of filming one season of a show that would change their lives.

In that moment, Steve's overwhelmed by the closeness he suddenly feels with the soul beside him. Falling into tears, he pulls Eddie into a tight hug, holding him so so close to convey everything he can't say. Feeling Eddie hold him back, hearing everything Eddie can't say in return.

Familiar music comes on outside the stall. Robin's voice calls out to him, telling him to come home.

And when he does leave, Steve hopes that someone out there will understand that he never can. Because here in Eddie's arms is the only place that will ever truly feel like home.

"Thank you... for everything, Eddie."

Thank you, Steve. For everything and more..."

--------------------

- List of AUs, in order, after, "Versions of them connected through the universe": Childhood Friends / Rockstar!Eddie / Werewolf!Steve & Vampire!Eddie / Eddie Survives / No Upside Down & High School

- List of Multiverse Steddie AUs, in order, after, "...yet forces so much greater than them pulled them together": Eddie x Gator / Baron x Michael / Geta x Sean / Keys x Eric / Quinn and Keery

[kenobion]

Andrew Garfield for Sky TV

[helsensm]

⚡🌸

[crunchy-rocc]

get to meet them next month ….. everyone start cheering

[macfrog]

Just me up at 2am wondering how many times Joel replays that wedding hotel room night in his head 🤔

warnings: breeding kink, pregnancy, m masturbation, desperately horny joel word count: ~600 words

i think he thinks about that entire night and wonders what the fuck even happened there. the way the world tilted ever so slightly the moment he pulled open his front door and saw her on his porch – sunlight twinkling from her earrings, satin draped over her breasts in pale waves; the shameless flirting under the cover of rosé wine and beer, string bulbs and rainbow disco lights.

i mean, one minute he’s waving his newspaper at her like a grumpy old man, counting down the seconds until she’s skipping back over to her own fucking porch – the next he’s caging her against the bed in her hotel room, thinking if he doesn’t fuck her here n now, he might tear the entire place apart.

between the wedding and three weeks later? yeah, he might think about it – just a little.

might think about her dress, the shape of her body beneath it. the way it fell from her hips – just slipped down over her curves and pooled at her feet like venus emerging from the ocean. might think about her naked body: how, until that night, he’d only ever wondered about it – stealing sideways glances over the fence at her little shorts and tight vest tops. but now…now, he knows what she looks like. he’s seen her undress for him.

and i bet he thinks about her soft gasp when he first pushed inside, after she finally caught her breath again; feeling the size of him inside her, how he knew she didn’t expect him to be so big and so fucking hard for her. how much he had to focus on not coming within five thrusts, she was so fucking tight.

bet he thinks about it in the shower, one hand against the tiled wall, the other jacking himself furiously. mouthing the words he whispered in her ear as their bodies rocked together: how good she is for him, how pretty she looks all full of his cock. bet he still hears the echo of her moans, the sweet little laughs lilting from her lips.

and when he finds out she’s pregnant? shit.

when he’s watching the evidence of what they did grow right before his eyes? her body blooming: stomach swelling, breasts growing, her cheeks plumping and her skin glowing? knows that he’s the one who changed her forever? knows that it’s his baby she’s growing?

sure. he probably thinks about that part a normal amount, too.

and i bet he thinks about how he shouldn’t be thinking about it. about her.

not when he’s sure she wouldn’t look at him ever again, if not for their parallel driveways and the parallel lines on that pregnancy test. not when he’s trying to act his fucking age, date someone actually appropriate for a forty-eight-year-old with backache and still two decades off retirement.

but it makes it worse – the fact he shouldn’t be doing it. shouldn’t be relieving the heavy weight between his legs in the morning with the memory of her lips closing around his fingers, playing on a reel behind his eyelids.

shouldn’t be staring into space while he’s driving, hearing her giggles once they’d finished; feeling her nails as she drew shapes on his sweat-sticky chest. shouldn’t be thinking about her wandering around with his baby inside of her; her body growing ‘n changing all ‘cause of what they did together.

he shouldn’t be. he shouldn’t he shouldn’t he shouldn’t but jesus, he is. you fucking know he is.

dear reader, joel has absolutely wrecked the tape, the number of times he’s replayed that night. the vhs player is smoking.

[dedusmuln]

did you guys know PAMA and harper make me emo? it's true. harper requested by @acehunter0 ! and PAMA as requested by @account-so-i-can-look-at-things ! here's the full sketch page :-P!