#the goblin reservation

[cinema-hallucinations]

Prompt: create a movie concept for an adaptation of the 1968 novel The Goblin Reservation by Clifford Simak.

Title: The Goblin Reservation

Tagline: The perfect blend of science fiction and traditional fantasy doesn't exi-

Logline: In a future Earth transformed into a bustling intergalactic university, Professor Peter Maxwell returns from a teleportation mishap with knowledge of a hidden alien world. But upon arrival, he discovers a doppelganger took his place, and a conspiracy threatens the peace between fantastical creatures and advanced technology.

Concept:

Genre: Sci-Fi, Mystery, Comedy

Setting: Earth in the distant future. Humanity has achieved advanced technology, allowing interstellar travel and the coexistence of mythical creatures like goblins, ghosts, and even historical figures. Earth is now a bustling university planet, attracting students from across the galaxy.

Main Character: Professor Peter Maxwell - A brilliant but absent-minded Time College professor specializing in teleportation technology.

Mystery Plot: Upon returning from a botched teleportation attempt, Maxwell discovers a seemingly identical version of himself (created by the alien "Wheelers") has been living his life and may have been murdered. He must navigate a world of advanced technology, interspecies politics, and cryptic clues to uncover the truth.

Whimsical Elements: The film retains the lighthearted tone of the novel. Goblins become his unlikely allies, leading him through hidden taverns and forgotten corners of the university planet. Time travel sequences provide humorous encounters with historical figures like William Shakespeare.

Central Conflict: A powerful alien race, the Wheelers, covets a mysterious artifact on display in the Earth museum. They may be behind the doppelganger plot and the attempted murder. Maxwell's quest for the truth becomes a race against time to protect the artifact and the delicate balance between magical creatures and advanced technology.

Themes: The film explores themes of progress vs. tradition, the value of knowledge, and the importance of understanding between seemingly disparate beings.

Target Audience: Fans of sci-fi whodunits like "Minority Report" and "Blade Runner," with a touch of the whimsical humor of "Men in Black." The film can appeal to a broad audience with its blend of genres and lighthearted approach to a complex future.

Visual Style: A vibrant mix of futuristic technology and fantastical creatures. Imagine sleek spaceships parked next to bustling goblin markets. Time travel sequences can be visually distinct, with a touch of vintage nostalgia.

This concept stays true to the spirit of Simak's novel while offering a visually stunning and captivating film experience.

[eggs-can-draw]

Oh, you’re the Ultimate Hope, right?

[paradoxpig]

“Man whoever genuinely enjoys those Terrifier movies is kinda worrying like who has fun with that unthinkable level of senseless torture porn?”

> Watched the first two

> References them constantly

> Lamenting that I don’t have any friends brave enough to go see the 3rd in a theater with me

[ask-angel-and-the-other-fandudes]

Hey Angel, do you have any good book recommendations for a quick read over the holiday break? Maybe a favorite of yours, if you have one?

I guess I could recommend "Black Wizards" by Douglas Niles or "Midworld" by Alan Dean Foster, or "The Goblin Reservation" Clifford D. Simak, or "Winds of Gath" by Edwin Charles Tubb, or even "The Lady in the Morgue" by Jonathan Latimer, if fantasy or science fiction isn't your thing! Though I will say that "The Goblin Reservation" is probably my favorite out of the bunch...

[thegoblinpit]

Me? Trust the government?

[softandcozythings]

"Why didn't you text me back yesterday evening?"

Girl, you tried to reach me outside my social business hours.

[givemaycoffee]

Rubbish my beloved

[hiddenwashington]

@youllalwaysbemyporcelain said : Was that [GONG YOO]? Oh no no, that was just [KIM SHIN], a [CANON CHARACTER] from [GOBLIN]. They are [UNKOWN] years old, use [HE/HIM], and [ARE] aware that they are not actually from Washington DC. Too bad they can’t stray from this city for long.{ooc: atlas, can i drop aang and reserve princess bubblegum?}

accepted! welcome to washington d.c. kim shin [gong yoo]! please send in your account within 24 hours! please be sure to take a look at the checklist now that you've arrived! we look forward to seeing you around the city!  ** aang is now reopened for applications, please do not unfollow! princess bubblegum is reserved for atlas until 10/23 at 11:29am est

[reveriehq]

the following characters and faceclaims have been reserved for 24 hours.

character(s): kim "sunny" sun fc(s): yoo inna

[70sscifiart]

Ken Barr's 1977 cover art for "The Goblin Reservation," by Clifford D. Simak

[gobspeaks]

Oh my go-to team setup?

Joker and his stupid boyfriends :)

[ahsoka-in-a-hood]

I may basically find the Hardeen arc too silly to take completely seriously, and I may have no interest at all in the various takes about how horribly mean it was to fake his death, but nevertheless I have a hill I will die on here and that's that Obi Wan was riding high on this shit. I'm lost the minute Obi Wan is a Conscientious Objector cruelly pressured into a plan he knows is foolishness. No. I watch that man grinning while asking how his funeral went. He stabbed some guy with a fork and threatened to eat him and commed Mace to say teehee, I'm having fun playing the bad guy!! Mace and Yoda had reservations. Obi Wan did not. This is not the council. This is Obi Wan being a stupid goblin.

[ahqkas]

If you’re taking request, I have one if you aren’t too busy. Mattheo dating gf! Reader who has a terrible sleep schedule. Like she falls asleep in almost all classes and he is just sits beside her, playing with her hair with a love struck stare.

-🧚🏾‍♀️💕

FALLING FOR YOU ; mattheo riddle

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

MATTHEO LEANED BACK IN HIS CHAIR, THE COOL WOODEN SUFACE OF THE DESK A FAMILIAR FEELING UNDER HIS ARMS. Professor Binns droned on at the front of the room, his voice a monotonous hum that barely registered in the back of Mattheo’s mind, like always. Instead, his attention was solemnly focused on you.

You were seated beside him, your head resting on your folded arms atop the desk as you dozed off. Your breathing was slow and steady, the telltale sign that you had drifted off again. Mattheo couldn't help but smile a little at the sight. You had the most erratic sleep schedule he had ever encountered. It seemed like you were always tired, often succumbing to sleep in the middle of classes.

As Binns' lecture about the Goblin Rebellions continued in the background, Mattheo reached out and gently twirled a strand of your hair around his finger. The texture was soothing, and he found himself absently playing with your hair whenever you fell asleep beside him. It had become a routine of sorts — him watching over you as you dozed off in class, ensuring you stayed comfortable and undisturbed in your actions. Merlin forbid someone woke you up.

The Slytherin glanced around the room to see if anyone was paying attention to the two of you, but as usual, the other students were either scribbling notes or fighting their own battles with sleep. Mattheo's gaze returned to you, his expression softening. He loved these moments, the quiet intimacy of being close to you without the noise and bustle of the school day intruding. There was something peaceful about it.

A soft murmur escaped your lips as you shifted slightly, and Mattheo's heart swelled with affection. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Sweet dreams, love."

You didn't stir, but a small, content smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. Mattheo's own smile widened as he continued to play with your hair, the lecture fading into the background noise.

As class neared its end, your boyfriend gently shook your shoulder. "Hey, princess," he whispered, "time to wake up."

You stirred, blinking groggily as you lifted your head. "Did I miss much?" you mumbled, rubbing your eyes.

"Not really," Mattheo replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Just Binns being Binns. Come on, let's get you to your next class."

You nodded, stifling a yawn as you gathered your things. Mattheo stood up, offering you his hand. You took it, and together you made your way out of the classroom. Mattheo kept a protective arm around your shoulders, his heart full of love and tenderness for the girl who had the most terrible sleep schedule, but who also happened to be the love of his life.

[spirit-tracks]

Pre-Calamity:

Link: I am a very quiet, reserved individual. I'm very skilled with a sword, incredibly well-mannered and respectful.

Zelda: I am an eloquent princess who is regal and authorative, despite it not being the true me. Even when I am allowed to let loose a little, I'm still a little distant and contained.

Post-Upheaval:

Link: I'm a 100+ year old cryptid with Tony Hawk syndrome who has stabbed not one but TWO world ending calamities in the face. My hair has not been brushed in a hundred years, I eat stuff off the ground, my arm glows sometimes, and I run around bare-ass naked for the hell of it. I'll kill Ganondorf with a stick. I will.

Zelda: I am a 20,000+ year old cryptid and at this point being the goddess reincarnate is the least weird thing about me. I made Link eat a live frog once and I probably have eaten many more, for science. I probably cut my hair with a bokoblin fang. I do my homework at the bottom of a well like a goblin. I ate a rock once. I also willingly stabbed myself in the head with a sword. Ganondorf made a puppet of me that appeared and disappeared randomly saying ominous shit all over Hyrule and nobody questioned it because I'm apparently Just Like That Sometimes. I introduced ancient hylians to the iphone. I will turn myself into a worm. Don't even test me I will turn myself into a worm right now.

[msgexymunson]

Prettiest Bitch

Description: you and Eddie have a special way of showing each other you care.

A/N: this is a real life fucking story of me and my partner lmao. Please like and reblog if you enjoy it sweetheart. 

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, established relationship, mean Eddie and mean reader but it's just fun and games, reader is AFAB, female oral receiving.

Masterlist

900 words

Laying on Eddie's sofa, you bask in the warm glow of being near him. Your legs were draped over his as you rifled through a book that you were barely paying attention to. Eddie's hand is up your loose pyjama pants, tracing soft circles on the  bare skin of your calf. 

"Eddie?" 

"Yeah sweets?" 

"You've always got to be touching me, don't you." 

"Suppose so."

You smirk, pulling his hand out of your pants. He whines like a child that just got his favourite toy confiscated. 

"Why?" 

"Dunno, I just want your skin."

Laughing loudly, you scoot closer on your knees, just shy of climbing onto his lap. 

"You want my skin? That sounds so fuckin' weird." 

Eddie drops his voice into an odd gravelly gasp, the one he reserves for goblin NPCs when he's DM. 

"Eddie wants it! Give Eddie your skin!" 

Before you can react he's pulling you onto his lap, hands wandering up your top and stroking hard at the exposed flesh. 

"You dumbass that tickles! Stop!" 

"Never!" He doubles down his efforts, lifting your t-shirt and blowing a wet raspberry on your stomach. You try to lean away but he has you trapped. 

Finally wiggling from his grasp in a fit of breathless giggles, your rump bumps heavily on the floor. 

"You're an idiot, Munson." 

"Yeah? Well you like me, so who's the idiot now?" 

"Still you!" You flip him the bird and he pokes his tongue out at you at the same time. 

Now eye level with the coffee table, a leaflet catches your eye. 

"What's this? Hawkins County fair?" 

Leafing through it, you hear Eddie's chuckle. 

"Yeah, just a bunch of farmers showing off the size of their pumpkins and shit, it's so stupid."

"But look!" You wave the ad in his face as he rolls his eyes. 

"Dog show Eddie! Dogs! Look, they've got categories and everything." 

He goes to steal it out of your hands but you hold firmly on, reeling off some of the different categories. 

"Senior dogs… there's one for puppies that's cute… oh haha look, prettiest bitch! I should enter." You nod at him and his gaze softens, sinking down to join you on the floor.

"Oh sweetheart" his thumb brushes your cheek as you melt under his gaze. 

"You're not pretty." 

Gasping, your eyes snap back open to see Eddie rolling on the floor gasping with fits of laughter. 

"Edward James Munson! Gonna make you regret that!" 

You straddle him, fingers digging bruises into his sides, trying desperately to find ticklish spots. 

"It was a joke! Come on sweets, you know I'm not ticklish there." 

Grinning devilishly, you straddle him backwards, clinging onto his legs like a koala.

"Nope, but you are here!" 

Your fingers tickle at his socked feet as he writhes beneath you. 

"Fuck, no fair! Stop!" 

"Never!" Your relentless onslaught continues.

"I will kick you in the head!" 

"Say I'm pretty!" 

"Fine! You're pretty, stop, stop!" 

You finally relinquish your hold and clamber off him still giggling triumphantly. 

"Am I forgiven?" 

"Nope. That was really mean Edward." You huff dramatically, folding your arms over your chest. 

"Kiss it better?" 

You both use that phrase. It started off with kissing your knee when you fell, then you used it to comfort him once when some jocks had been particularly mean to him, then it just melded into your day to day life. 

"OK." 

His smile is wicked as he pushes you to your back, fingers hooking into your pyjama pants. 

"The fuck are you doing?" Gazing down at him, he smiles sinfully as he pulls your pants down in one smooth motion. 

"Didn't say where, sweets." 

His tongue runs the full length of your pussy and runs around your clit in a smooth circle. 

"Fuck, Eddie!" Hands make their way into his unruly curls as he continues his apology, suckling at your clit. 

Thick fingers probe your entrance, gliding in to curl in that spot just like you like it. 

"Sweetheart, you're the prettiest girl in this trailer." 

Not giving in that easily, you pull his hair. 

"I'm the only girl in this trailer!" 

He laughs and sucks your clit again hard, making your back arch off the floor. 

"OK," he practically breathes into your cunt, "the prettiest girl in Hawkins?" 

"Better." 

"Fine, the prettiest girl in the fucking world." 

"OK, oh shit, oh you're forgiven!" Moans replace words as he fucks you hard with his fingers, bringing you closer and closer to release.

"Don't stop, don't stop, I'm gonna come, Eddie!" 

He presses the flat of his tongue against your clit hard as you ride his face into a searing wash of ecstasy. 

Releasing in a broken scream, you melt into a puddle. Moments later, a very smug Eddie hovers over you. 

"You are the prettiest bitch" He says, pressing a soft kiss to your nose. 

Too fucked out to argue, you pull him close and hold him. You'll get him back later. 

@munson-blurbs @roanniom @eddiesprincess86

[stevebabey]

this is pure stupid hell crack that took more time than it should’ve to finish BUT i’m ready 2 release it from my drafts <3 this is actually technically written partially w @corrodedcoughin in mind bcos i think u will mighty enjoy it! for cockney eddie!

It comes with the territory, the accents.

Drama kid or dungeon-master, either one could be credited with contributing heavily to his affinity for all of Eddie’s little voices.

There was the deep, low raspy one reserved for trolls in campaigns — and a nasally high one he used for goblins to pair. Wise wizards giving out crucial advice sometimes had a strong Scottish drawl to their words. And Dwarfs? Always English.

So, yeah, Eddie has a couple different accents in his different repertoire. Pulls them out as he needs — a regal tone when referring to Hawkin’s very own royalty or a buried Southern twang used when he’s in trouble with Wayne. The most common is a shoddy Cockney accent for when any conversation dips too far towards awkward or boring.

It's why it's not so surprising anymore when they just... slip out sometimes.

He's learned more now, when specifically not to do it (Mrs. Donnell had not found his plea for a re-sit, in a heavy Irish accent, endearing in the slightest). But with friends who know Eddie, they know the accents come along too.

Steve fucking loves them.

The first time one had taken over his voice, some New Yorker twang to carry a joke, Steve had laughed so hard he’d snorted. And god, had Eddie lit up at the noise— loved knowing that, deep down Steve Harrington had a delicious wonderful ugly laugh that he only showed to people he trusted.

Basically, it’s hardly news to Steve then, all of Eddie’s little voices.

But well, even Eddie didn’t expect… okay, the truth is he never expected to be in this situation at all.

It’s a Wednesday evening when it happens. Steve is over round the trailer like he is every Wednesday, keeping Eddie company while Wayne is out on the double night shift.

It originally had started out as ensuring wounds were checked and dressed properly — considering half of them had scaled up his back, where Eddie couldn’t reach — for the both of them. Then, when technically Eddie could manage the worst of his words, Steve was still coming around. Dustin’s insistence, he’d said.

Then it was… because Eddie asked Steve to come around, to stay a little longer.

So, Steve Harrington is in his kitchen and it’s a Wednesday ritual that they have together and that’s not even the weird part of the evening.

(And somehow, neither is the fact that Steve is, as of a few months ago, his boyfriend.)

Steve’s cooking. Something simmers low on the scarlet glowing hob, bubbling quietly and releasing aromas of spices that percolate into the Autumn evening air.

Eddie feels his stomach growl in its own twist of hunger as he follows his nose. With one hand still scrubbing a towel against his wet hair, he ambles down the hall, fresh out the shower, ready for love — be it the form of food or, he thinks giddily, kisses.

Steve’s not watching the food as Eddie enters, his eyes fixed somewhere across the room. There’s a crease between his eyebrows, an indication of his deep thought.

Eddie grins, approaching without any attempt of being sneaky, (Steve’s as good as comatose when he’s distracted as he’d found) and jabs his boyfriend’s calf with his toe.

“Thinking mighty hard there, Stevie. That’s dangerous.”

Steve jolts, snapping out of his thoughts. He straightens up automatically, then seems to recall the company he’s keeping, and relaxes back down.

He scowls affectionately at Eddie’s barefoot, still jabbing into his leg, and reaches out to flick it with his finger.

“Dickhead.”

Eddie’s faster. He dances away and laughs at the instinctual pout that forms on Steve’s lips.

“What ponders thy mind, hm?” Eddie drawls, a lilt of a Regency style accent in his voice. He sinks into one of the kitchen chairs and drops his task. The towel hangs over his neck, his damp curls resting against it.

Steve seems to jolt again at that, his shoulders rising for a moment. He spins, picking up the wooden spoon beside the stove to swirl the contents of their dinner around. Eddie admires him, broad shoulders and long back, ripe for his taking. Silently, he sighs dreamily on the inside.

“Just… what movie we’re gonna watch tonight.” Steve says unconvincingly. “I’m not doing another re-watch of the Fly.” He adds lamely, an attempt at his usual bitch.

Eddie lets him have it. With one final squeeze of the towel, trying to wring out all the droplets in his hair, Eddie abandons it on the chair as he stands. He waltzes forward, into Steve’s space, and hooks his chin over the other's shoulder.

“You know, that’s what you said last time.”

Steve side-eyes him, his eyes narrowing into a minuscule glare; bitch personified. Eddie grins. Then bats his eyelashes.

It makes Steve laugh, shrugging Eddie’s weight off politely as he gives their dinner another stir. There’s still this tenseness to his frame. Though, maybe it's one Eddie can only notice because he’s paying such close attention.

“Alrightttttt,” He pretends to relent dramatically, his hands coming up to give Steve’s shoulders a quick squeeze. “I’ll let you pick the movie tonight.”

He drops his hands back to his sides, smarmy grin already plastered on as Steve turns to face him, the wooden spoon placed down on the bench.

“Oh, you’ll let me, will you?” He gives this incredulous look, even if there is this playfulness toying at the corners at his lips.

“Uh huh,” Eddie affirms with a severe nod, then begins counting on his fingers as he lists off. “No badgering, wailing, complaining, of any sorts I—“

Suddenly, Steve’s reaching out, his deft hands reaching out to snag the waistband of Eddie’s pyjama pants. It supposed to be a smooth move he’s used countless times before; fingers looped through belt loops to pull a girl in for a kiss. It usually works like a charm.

Except, there’s no belt loops— and when Steve tucks his fingers beneath the waistband and tugs him forward, Eddie shrieks.

“Fucking christ, Steve!” He bats Steve’s hands back without thinking. Steve holds them up defensively.

“Sorry! I was just—”

“What are you doing sticking your hands in my pants?!”

“It was a move!” Steve insists, voice a little whiney. “God, you’re dramatic- I was trying to pull you closer, numb-nuts.”

“Oooh,” Eddie switches up in an instant, hands shooting out to grab Steve’s own. He pulls them forward and settles them on his own waist, shuffling in closer like he hadn’t just shrieked a minute earlier. “Continue.”

Steve chuckles, delight peeking through on his face. His hands, large and slender, curl around the skin of Eddie’s waist and Christ, he’s still not used to that. Eddie’s too focused on repressing his shiver to see the shadow of nervousness cross Steve’s face.

“I was actually thinkin’ about,” Steve starts lowly, eyes skirting off Eddie’s face, over his shoulder. His fingers tighten their grip. “How—”

He sucks in a breath, like drawing in courage, and meets Eddie’s gaze. “About how much I love you.”

There’s the smallest tremble to his voice, giving away the immense emotion behind the words.

And here’s the situation that Eddie never expected to be in, ever. His breath catches, his eyes widen — his heartstrings tangle and knot themselves as he soaks in Steve’s admittance. Love, love, love — he loves me.

His lips part, a raspy noise escaping as he tries to compute, tries to think of anything to say because the longer he stays silent, the more crushed Steve’s expression becomes. And then—

“Well, I luv ya too.”

The words fall out, thick in that godawful Cockney accent.

Steve's face doesn't change but Eddie's does, contorting in an amalgamation of pure cringe and panic as embarrassment crawls beneath his skin. He slaps his hand over his own mouth as if it can take back his awful reply to being told he's loved by Steve.

"I—" He starts, speaking through his fingers, except it still comes out in a funny accent. Eddie squeaks, his grip over his mouth tightening, brown eyes wide in his panic. Oh God, never in stupid silly life has his accents come back to bite him in the ass so magnificently.

"I'm so sorry," Eddie whispers-yells in his regular voice, finally dragging his hands off his face sluggishly. "Jesus H Christ, I didn't— that wasn't making fun of you, I— oh god, you know that happens when I'm nervous sometimes. Shit. Shit, I'm so sorry, Steve."

Steve hasn't moved, his hands still resting on the small of Eddie's waist. His expression is guarded, nothing betrayed. His dark eyes scan across Eddie's face and just before he speaks, the smallest glimmer of amusement glitters across his face.

"Well," Steve begins, heaving a faux large sigh. His hands squeeze comfortingly at Eddie's waist again. Eddie who is still frozen, still cursing himself internally, still echoing around the apparently true fact that Steve loves him— well, maybe not anymore with how awfully Eddie responded.

And then Steve opens his mouth and the most appalling attempt at some accent comes out. It makes his words all garbled and Steve's pink in the face, obviously embarrassed but trying to commit to some shoddy Scottish when he says, "Aye, that's al'right."

Eddie stares at him. Steve stares back.

The moment of silence is broken as laughter seizes him, a guffaw bursting from his lips and holy fuck, Eddie loves him so much. Steve laughs too, the two of them relaxing and sinking into one another. Eddie's hands, previously fluttering and unsure, find their natural place curled in underneath Steve's jaw and when he leans in, he's fighting off his laughter. His grin is unbearably wide, cheeks aching.

Steve's got this shine in his eye, his hands sliding further around to pull Eddie in closer, his pink lips quirked in delight. Eddie practically purrs, so close to kissing him but not quite closing the gap.

"Yep," He says, eyes bright as they bounce over Steve's face to drink in his boyfriend's love-soaked expression. He loves him. Steve loves him. Eddie sounds as lovesick as he feels when he whispers, "It's decided. I think you're it for me, Stevie-baby."

He presses forward, lets his mouth find their home in the curve of Steve's lips. It's warm like nothing he's ever felt before, softened by their gooey-grins of love. It's an in love kiss.

"Even if you're terrible at accents." He murmurs against Steve's mouth.

"Shut up."

Steve hisses, but he’s still grinning. The dinner bubbles behind them, still cooking away behind them. "Like I'm ever going to let you live that down."

Eddie finds he doesn't really mind all that much — God forbid his boyfriend ever remind him they're in love.

"Shut up," He still says, then sticks out his tongue, like he's ten years old. "You love me."

"I do." Steve admits easily, his fingertips dancing along the small of Eddie's back. Eddie has to tuck his bottom lip behind his teeth to restrain his wild grin.

"And I love you." He says, properly this time, jabbing his finger into Steve's chest — so there's no absolutely mistaking it.