#and write until i fall asleep

[l8rhader]

The part where Pennywise kebabs Eddie doesn't scare me. But I still end up with a sharp intake of breath and a flinch. Like. Just... god. It hurts.

[mummer]

just saw asteroid city last night, pls explain the proposed significance of the kiss!!

answering this publicly hope thats ok! cant do a readmore im on mobile *****asteroid city spoilers below beware*****

i dont remember anyones names so this is gonna sound partly unhinged. okay so the edward norton playwright and jason schwartzman actor (not character, in the black and white parts) are lovers right. tbh i thought this was kind of a gag and forgot about it. but later we find out that the playwright died 6 months into the production. i didnt make the connection that THAT’s why the actor-jason has to suddenly leave the stage and freaks out backstage about how he’s not sure he’s Doing it right. hes not talking about acting!! because he himself is literally grieving his lover while he’s playing a character who’s grieving his wife written by his lover so obviously it’s too much!!! actor-jason is trying to find meaning in his death through his writing but there isnt any meaning in death [gerris drinkwater voice] which is what the play is trying to say anyway. he doesnt think he’s performing grief right even in his own life!!! (and tbh it’s the 50s so he wouldnt be able to perform grief publicly anyway!!!!) the play starts with a car accident… anyone would search for some hidden meaning there, some sign…. so when he talks to margot robbie outside it’s not really about finding the CHARACTER’s motivations it’s about the actor himself being able to process the playwright’s death! and adrien brody director was probably also dealing with that too (him and norton seemed to be good buddies) so the whole “sleeping backstage” thing gets a bit sadder maybe? maybe everyone else got this in the theatre and im just stupid lol but crazy making stuff to me!!! the whole story is about sublimated gay grief that cannot be expressed?!?!

the tweet that caught me onto this was here which posits that the playwright’s death was a suicide but i think that’s pretty stupid and unnecessary because the whole thing about the play asteroid city is that death is random and meaningless. im pretty sure that’s what the alien represents— a shocking and absurd event that isnt outright evil or menacing, not something anyone can predict or make sense of, it’s just a thing that happens to you out of nowhere, it doesnt mean anything. he’s a little black figure, he’s death! giving and taking! aagh

[vole-mon-amour]

Thinking about Astarion shapeshifting into a cat. "I'm so tired. How do people do this all day?" Thinking about him riding on Halsin's shoulder and barely weighting anything to Halsin as a cat, and this way he doesn't actually have to walk all the way. Thinking about Astarion snuggling up on Halsin's shoulder or in the crook of his neck while Halsin maybe does some whittling. Bonus points if he manages to doze off while they're on the road. Halsin walks and Astarion sleeps.

And when it's battle time, thinking about Astarion being shapeshifted into a snow leopard or a white panther (or another large wild cat with deadly fangs and claws so that he can literally make their enemies bleed with a hit of his paw and overpower them with his body if it's something that needs to happen.) Four legs with sharp claws, fangs to rip apart the enemies' throats and a mighty tail that helps his balance.

Thinking about a shapeshifted bear and a domesticated, once feral cat sleeping on him. And maybe he's still feral, just not with Halsin. He can still bite and scratch and claw up someone's clothing and run away just as fast. He can still make others bleed—sometimes he means to because he doesn't like them that much, sometimes he just doesn't know his own strength.

Thinking about a shapeshifted bear and his boyfriend in a shape of an albino serval next to each other. Thinking how wild, yet beautiful they look together and how they both love just chilling in this form. How Astarion sometimes snuggles next to his bear—because Halsin loves that form, because he sometimes relaxes so much that he turns into his "natural" form and Astarion just embraces that.

I feel like an albino serval is definitely a shape that can suit Astarion very well (with maybe a white nose as well and red eyes so it matches his vampiric eyes). What a wonderful couple those two are.

P.S.: An au in which druids can turn others into animals, with some boundaries like turning them bc of a request or if it's their loved one so there's at least some restraint and completely strangers don't turn other complete strangers knot animals? A polymorph scroll that can turn another into an animal of their choose and not only a sheep?

Or maybe both. Both can also be good.

UPD: Kinda OOC/AU, but what if Astarion was a druid/could wildshift himself? Two boyfriends chilling. <3

[cerise-on-top]

Singing Price a Lullaby

Reusing one of my favorite ideas! I actually put in the names of all the characters I write for into a random picker and I got Price! Lovely, he's earned it!

Looking up from your phone, you gazed through the window, looking at the few stars and clouds that were visible. The sun had kissed the planet goodnight a while ago. And yet, here you were, all alone still, lying in your bed as you awaited your lover to finally finish his work for the day. A torturous time, really. Although he may have been so near, you dared not disturb him in what he deemed so important. And thus you were left to your own devices for hours now, asking him whether or not he had desired some food from time to time. Truthfully, an empty stomach was the only thing to make John abandon his oh so important work. And even then, conversation was sparse, he merely thought about work, not paying you much mind. While there may be the occasional answer were you to ask a question, it was short. He may have been the captain of a prestigious force, but that didn’t mean he should neglect you like that. Even you, with your understanding nature, had your limits. But it wasn’t John unintentionally ignoring you for the majority of the day that got to you, no. What really irked you was how few breaks he took. Yes, what he had to do was indeed of utmost importance, but you’d rather have him take care of himself either way. You brought him tea and water, incentives to get away from his paperwork for a few minutes at a time.

Looking at your phone yet again, the clock read 21:23. Had it been up to you, you would have dragged John from his desk and into bed. While you may not have been as strong as he was physically, you would hold him down until sleep would take him. If you needed to, you would learn to tie knots as well, anything to get your boyfriend to rest. With a sigh, you turned off your phone, deciding that you, and him, had had enough for the night. Your bed may have been a bastion of comfort, but it was incomplete without him. And thus, yet again, you sought him out in the one place he could almost always be found.

You knocked on the door to his office and, to no surprise, John invited you in, not bothering to open the door himself, however.

“Evening, love. Can I help you?” It was late, he had been working since the morning. Evidently, he was tired, his speech a bit slower than usual. John even had the gall to stifle a yawn around you. Had you been stronger, you would have picked him up, thrown him over your shoulder and carried him to your shared bed. But alas he was too heavy. The sentiment was still very much there, though.

“John, don’t you think it’s time to head to bed? It’s half past nine pm already, you’ve been at this since ten am.”

Turning back to his paperwork, he tapped the pen against his papers. “Just a little bit longer, then I’ll stop for the time being.”

Those few sentences made you irrationally angry. ‘Just a little longer’, that usually meant he’d be at this for another three hours or so, which was unacceptable. You took a deep breath and gently closed the door behind you. However, you could not pretend to be calm any longer as you stomped over to John, taking his papers from him and scanning them over. “Spelling error. Spelling error. Did you doze off as you wrote this? Wrong use of ‘than’. Spelling error.” You put the papers down with force, it was a surprise none of them had flown off the desk. “John, you’re dead tired and mentally exhausted. I think it’s time you call it quits for the night.”

Putting his pen down, he sighed. “Love, it’s alright. This is important and the deadline is coming up soon enough. I can go to bed later. I’m not tired just yet either.” He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you a bit closer and resting his head against you, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’ll join you soon enough, don’t worry.”

“Stop shitting me. You’re leaving this room right now.” Grabbing his arm, you pulled him up. You had expected otherwise, but he put up no fight as you dragged him off the chair. It seemed as though not even he wanted to really work anymore this late. No one was going to burn him at the stakes for heading to bed for the night. Or stopping for any other reason. “And if you’re not tired, fine. We’ll do something else until you are tired.” What a liar. You were sure if you forced him to bed and wrapped a blanket around him he’d be gone in roughly ten minutes. Maybe even less. His eyes were only half open, and he was, yet again, stifling a yawn. “Come on, we’re heading to the living room. I have an idea for what we can do.”

For a moment he hesitated, refusing to go along with you as you were halfway through the door. John looked back at the documents on his desk, barely moving as you tried to drag him through the door. His gaze seemed almost empty as he stared off into space. He was half asleep, even while standing there. Eventually, he relented, turning off the lights and following you into the living room.

Holding onto his wrist still, you sat down on the couch, patting your lap as John simply stared at you. Raising his eyebrow, it was clear what he wanted to convey. ‘I’m too heavy for you, I won’t be sitting in your lap.’ But that wasn’t your intention either.

“Lie down, put your head on my lap.” Although he may have been a captain, he obeyed your command, no complaints from his side either. It was adorable how he looked up at you, barely conscious. You were certain he’d fall asleep eventually. However, maybe, just maybe, you could convince him to go to bed without him actually falling asleep in your lap. You wanted to sleep in your bed as well, after all. All of this could have been avoided if only he would take better care of himself. You’re going to scold him for that, but it could wait until tomorrow. For the time being you ran your fingers through his hair.

“What are we going to do now? Watch the telly?”

“Quiet, my dear. I’m thinking.” What you were about to do was kind of embarrassing. You were only really used to singing to yourself when no one was around. But you always found your voice to be quite soothing. In fact, you could sing yourself sleepy with certain songs as well. It was a blessing and a curse. You hoped you wouldn’t start yawning throughout it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as unlikely as one would think. Still, you’d give it your all. But what to sing? You wanted to go for something a bit nicer.

Eventually, you settled for a song, looking away from John for a bit before starting to play with his hair again. He never looked away from you, taking in all of your features, regardless of how many times he had seen them.

Your voice wasn’t overly loud, it wasn’t overly high pitched either as you sang. Still, you felt a bit embarrassed, avoiding John’s gaze. It seemed almost humiliating to you, singing in front of someone else after years of not doing so. But it would take John’s mind off of things, you hoped. Your little performance was nice, you could feel yourself relaxing a bit as well.

I think I found a flower in a field of weeds

I think I found a flower in a field of weeds

Searching until my hands bleed

This flower don't belong to me

I think I found a flower in a field of weeds

I think I found a flower in a field of weeds

Searching until my hands bleed

This flower don't belong to me

This flower don't belong to me

Why can't she belong to me?

Slowly, you could feel your eyes getting a bit droopy as well, a yawn coming along with the feeling. Still, you ignored such for the sake of continuing to sing. John shifted in your lap, laying down on his side as he nuzzled into your stomach. You couldn’t tell if he was actually enjoying this, anxiety building up in your chest. However, you had already started, it would be a shame to stop now.

Every word, every thought, every sound

Every touch, every smile, every frown

All the pain we've endured until now

All the hope that I lost, you have found

He wrapped his arms around your middle and sighed contently. Maybe your anxieties were unfounded after all. It wasn’t often he’d sigh like that, only when he was really comfortable. For a moment, you dared to look at him. His eyes were closed and he seemed happy.

Every word, every thought, every sound

Surrender

Every touch, every smile, every frown

Surrender

All the pain we've endured until now

Surrender

All the hope that I lost, you have found

His breathing was shallow and calm. Has he fallen asleep already? You would have preferred it if he had fallen asleep in your shared bed, but you supposed this was better than nothing. You could always just take a nap tomorrow.

I never had the nerve to ask

Surrender

Has my moment come and passed?

Surrender

I never had the nerve to ask

Surrender

Has my moment come and passed?

Surrender

I never had the nerve to ask

Surrender

Has my moment come and passed?

Surrender

I never had the nerve to ask

Your little performance was over now. You had found yourself to be quite tired yourself, but dared not to move in fear of waking John. Yet, eventually, he stirred awake, in spite of you not moving a muscle. His slumber didn’t last very long, if he had even slept in the first place.

“Beautiful, love. How come you never told me you could sing like that?”

“Well, it is a bit embarrassing. Even though I really do love singing. Anyway, go to bed, you stinker. It’s late and you’re tired.”

John sighed, but got up reluctantly. Having pulled you up with him, he linked his arm with yours. You were ready to hold him given how he swayed from left to right as he walked. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. You should sing more often. I’d love to hear you sing again sometime.”

“W-well, I’m sure that could be arranged… We’ll discuss that tomorrow. For now we’re heading to bed.”

“Wouldn’t dream of going anywhere else at this hour.” What a jester. Had you not intervened then he’d still be working away at some boring papers. But you were proud of him for complying. He needed that rest, after all.

You weren’t sure how long it took for him to actually fall asleep, but you could have sworn you heard light snoring the moment he hit the bed. In fact, he wasn’t even moving anymore, it was you, who had to drape the blanket over the both of you. But you didn’t mind. With a gentle kiss to the top of John’s head, you settled down for the night yourself, nestling into the blankets and getting comfortable. Eventually, you, too, fell asleep, tired from singing the lullaby.

[daylightdiaz]

this picture is so boyband au coded i’m afraid

[scary-lasagna]

Wedding and Honeymoon headcanons for slender? For the honeymoon ones can you do slight NSFW if thats ok? Maybe Offender if you can do him as well? Seperate THANK YOU ❤️

Considering this one got so long I’ll be happy to write one for Offender if you send in an ask for him!

Slender

A winter wedding is what you’ll two participate in.

And with a monochrome theme of white and black, in a rather quite large castle, followed by rows and rows and distant relatives, business partners, creeps, and even a few journalists.

It’s an important event, considering who Slender is, and especially marrying into the family of Ender. Mother, his brothers, and his select prized proxies get front row seats on his side, and of course you know you’ll feel comforted by the familiar faces you chose to sit on your side.

It’s a lot of pressure, and the whole realm seems to be watching you flaunt down the aisle, but just the presence of him standing at the end of it is enough to soothe your worry.

The castle is decorated with a large amount of flowers, ribbons, and arches, along with a faux, light snow fall that melts before it reaches guests clothing.

And with Slender, once the vows are done, the souls must be bonded.

This can be tricky if you’re a human, but there’s no reason why it should work on the second try.

Similar to a knot tying tradition, you join hands, and a spell is wrapped around them, tightening the grasp. It will glow and embed the magical ribbon-like strings with Slender’s crest, and transfer the symbol to your palm.

It’ll disappear after a few days, unless you summon it to show off, which you absolutely will be doing once you get back from your honeymoon!

Honeymoon (Nsfw implications)

What better way to spend a honeymoon than to escape on a remote island in the middle of nowhere?

It’s a little beach cabin, with a forest in your backyard. It’s not too hot nor cold, but the perfect weather to dip your feet in the ocean together and find all of the cool seashells.

He lets you run around and bring him seashells, and even a live clam. Of course you didn’t know, and he snuck it back in the water to not hurt your feelings.

You have the entire island to yourself, and Slender makes sure that is known to you both. No creatures will be getting any sleep staying near the house.

A few sirens will even stop by during the day if you happen to be out in the beach, just to congratulate you two on conjoining before promptly leaving.

During the night, you often fall asleep around a campfire until a crab pinches your feet to find out if you’re food or not.

And with a full range of cable and wifi, matched with your newly husbands cooking skills, you wished you could stay forever and watch sloppy reality shows and all of your favorites together.

But alas, all good things must come to an end, and after packing up and having Slender teleport you both home, you arrive at the all too familiar front doors of the manor.

“CONGRATULATIONS!!” Is what you’re met with, and Slender nearly had a heart attack from it, your poor love.

Everyone stood around the front door, decorated with balloons, cake, sweets, and other gifts. They’re incredibly happy to see you two so content with each other, and to perhaps call you mom once in a while.

[khainovo]

sorry for not posting recently i was going through the tides (extreme obsession over fictional characters)

[lightbulb-warning]

i used to freehand comics all the time as a child and since the part i liked was the drawing part i would just draw panel after panel because i didn't want to stop drawing to think about icky icky words, plus the story TOTALLY still made perfect sense! to me! and noone else, but 'whoooo caaaaares omgggg its not like comics and sequantial art are a communicative meeediummmm lmaoooooo'. i spent my entire childhood telling myself stuff like "oh pfft I know this story by heart- ill SIMPLY remember the dialogue and write it later" ...and. I can't help but admire baby maiora's (call that a minora ba tm tsk) fucking audacity? hubris? confident wrongness? kid couldn't even remember to finish the comics in the first place? INCREDIBLE levels of unearned self assurance, wish that were me, genuinely- what an icon!!! anyway i think i have forever cursed myself

[macaulaytwins]

Mornings at Hampden College

[desiccatedwithering]

The others are fine-tuning the plan, and Steve, for once, is grateful that they haven’t bothered to ask for his input. He wouldn’t have anything useful to say. Not now, when stress and fear are a rope around his neck, choking him more and more as they close the distance back to Hawkins. Not when he can see a hundred different ways that this could go wrong, could all come crashing down on their heads. Not now, when Robin’s concern is rattling around in his head, when it’s taken on a life of its own, shaking him and screaming, “Someone is going to die!”

They’re spread too thin, fighting on too many fronts. They’re not being smart about this. But he’s dumb, too dumb to figure out a solution, too dumb to offer up anything other than “No, no, no, this will get everyone killed.”

The thought of leaving Max and Lucas and Erica alone makes his teeth hurt, makes him genuinely sick to his stomach. They’re children.

And worse than that, Lucas and Erica are both associated with Hellfire now. The whole town will be hunting them, out for blood. What if Erica gets spotted? Jason wasn’t afraid to get in Nancy’s face in public, and Mike’s in fucking California right now, couldn’t possibly be involved with helping Eddie. So what will he do if he finds the Sinclairs, in the middle of the night, all alone, with Max in a trance?

Steve should stay with them. Keep them safe.

But—

Vecna—or Henry or One, whatever—he’s like El. Sure, he’ll be in a trance when they get to the house, but once they light him on fire? He’s gonna wake up, and he’s gonna be pissed. And Steve isn’t sure how much help he’d be against someone with superpowers, but three against one is better odds than two against one. (And a part of him thinks he’s justified in worrying that a gun might not do much, not when the Upside Down has apparently transformed him into an even bigger monster. Bullets didn’t stop the demogorgon. Who says they’ll stop Vecna, even if he used to be a normal man?)

And then there’s Eddie and Dustin, and he can almost convince himself that they’ll be safe. But the wounds in his sides are throbbing in time with his heartbeat, and he knows that Dustin is loyal to a fault—“You die, I die”—and for all Eddie’s talk of being a coward, Steve knows that he isn’t, and—

Fuck it.

The others are so caught up in rehashing the plan that they don’t even notice that he’s gone off course until he’s parked and marching out of the RV.

“Wh— Steve! What are—?”

“I’ll be right back, Rob. Two minutes.”

“Where—?” The rest of Eddie’s question is cut off as the RV door swings shut.

Steve jogs up the drive, gritting his teeth at the flare of pain in his sides, and pounds on the door. “Tommy? You home, man? It’s Steve!”

A moment later, the door is yanked open, Tommy spitting, “What the fuck, Steve? You—” He stops abruptly, eyes raking over Steve from head to toe and back again. “Fuck, Steve, you look like hell. What happened?”

Steve grimaces. He doesn’t bother to answer the question; there’ll be time to explain later, if he’s right about this. God, he hopes he’s right about this.

Carol appears behind Tommy—which is a relief; he’d hate to have to do this twice—and gives Steve the same once over, eyes narrowing. She opens her mouth, closing it again when he shakes his head slightly.

“I hate to do this,” he says, “but you remember the promise we made? When we were nine?”

Tommy’s eyes widen, and his shoulders go rigid. “Steve?” he asks, and he sounds— fuck, he sounds terrified. Steve closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath so he doesn’t turn tail and run. He prays to a god he doesn’t believe in that it’ll be enough. (A tiny, selfish, awful part of him almost hopes that it won’t. But he squashes that voice down. They don’t have another choice; they need more help.)

Carol pushes past him, reaching out for the hem of Steve’s shirt and lifting it delicately. Steve doesn’t protest. Her mom’s a nurse; she’s always been able to tell when he’s hurt and hiding it. No point trying to conceal gaping holes in his sides if he couldn’t sneak something as minor as a sprained wrist past her.

She clearly wasn’t expecting it to be this bad, though. She gasps, her hands trembling where they hold his shirt. “How—? Who—?”

“What the fuck?” Tommy asks, face pale, expression queasy.

Steve knows how it looks, the massive blooms of blood soaking into the makeshift bandage. (He’d say it looks worse than it is, but it honestly hurts like a bitch.)

“I’m sorry,” he says, sure that remorse is bleeding from every pore. He hates, hates, hates himself for dragging someone new into this mess yet again. “But I could really use some help.”

“Fuck, Steve. Of course,” Carol says instantly, looking like she’s about to march off to track down whoever did this to him and make them pay.

Steve glances at Tommy again. His jaw is clenched and his hands are balled into fists at his sides, but he meets Steve’s eyes and nods. “Whatever you need.”

“It’s dangerous. Deadly,” Steve says, almost frantic. As much as he needs their help, he needs them to understand what they’re getting into. “You might not—”

“Steve,” Tommy says. His hand comes up in a familiar move, then stops just in front of Steve’s shoulder, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch. “We made a promise.”

Steve nods, throat too tight to say anything. He’s distantly aware that tears are welling in his eyes, but he doesn’t bother trying to hide them. All he can do is close the scant distance between them, leaning into the pressure of Tommy’s hand almost desperately, hoping the gesture shows even a fraction of his gratitude.

Tommy nods back and repeats, “Whatever you need, Stevie.”

[liquidstar]

a friend who'd wait :)

[augacity]

lots of good posts on this here webbed site about rotating your blorbos as you fall asleep, spinning out the next chapter of your fic and so on.

well!! i am here to rep those of us who absolutely, posiTIVELY should not be allowed within microwaving radius of blorbos after bedtime, lest the Visions and general impulse towards Solving The Plot impinge on any and all manner of Sleep.

signed, most sincerely, a tormented fic writer

[miodiodavinci]

current mood of the day, now presented in shitty comic form

[milesdadworth]

the only thing thats been bouncing around in my head the past week is that phoenix and miles's pillow talk in the year 2027 consists of simon blackquill and the UR-1 incident

[amethyst-halo]

trying to plot future clay and branch stuff for b&b but its 3 am and im emo rn

[introspectivememories]

so are we just gonna politely ignore bernard collaring tim or.....