#this isn’t great sorry

[stunfiskz]

omggg they were kissingggg

[tav-marcio-leles]

Ohhh, I'm rereading Mystra's entry in the Sword Coast Adventurer's Guide... and this detail:

This means Gale was punished for trying to restore and preserve what he thought was a lost piece of Mystra's magic. Gale being Mystra's ex-lover put aside. He as her follower, she his goddess, was punished for attempting to do the one foundational rule of her faith.

I'm seething and so sad at the same time.

Edit: I used the word punish loosely, as in, toxic/abusive people will take any small mistake or action and twist it into something they can take advantage of. This post was also largely from the stand point of a toxic deity rather than a toxic partner, but both takes are valid here. Especially with the, “you didn’t stay compliant so now I’m giving you the silent treatment” part of it—from a god and a partner perspective.

[rwsdarw]

Always thought Gabe had an intrinsic hatred of black cats and ladybugs

[candythemew]

Silly goofy doodles for the hollytaya update i mean the Pitaya update totally. Yeah. The Pitaya update.

Bonus:

[flowercrowngods]

yearning hours (hidden track)

🤍 also on ao3

The city is quiet tonight, dormant long before midnight; weary at its very core, just allowing November’s cold to settle without much of a fight.

Steve should be asleep, too, but he doesn’t want to break the spell he’s under, doesn’t want the heaviness of his eyelids to become something deeper, something stronger, something that will bring an end to this feeling that’s come over him.

Sprawled on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, he just breathes. A steady in and out that‘s been effortless for a few hours now.

The breathes in the gentle dimness of his bedside lamp, inhales the sound of electro pop playing from beside him, playing from another lifetime altogether. He exhales the present, lets go of the thoughts of sleep, of leaving this moment, of moving anytime soon.

I saw your eyes. And you made me smile.

It’s been forever since he listened to this tape. So long, in fact, that he didn’t even know he still had it. Lifetimes passed since last he heard these songs, the synthesisers and guitars, the beat of his heart in tune with the drum of the snare.

Four years. It’s a lifetime. Everything’s a lifetime when the world ends, and ends, and ends. Everything’s a lifetime if you leave parts of yourself behind, unreachable for yourself, but far from untouchable for others.

Everything’s a lifetime if you live in Hawkins, Indiana.

And though it took a while, I was falling in love.

The song washes over him the same way it did four years ago, and yet it settles inside his chest, his gut, his lungs in a way it never did before. It fills him with each inhale, as if daring him to forget again. As if daring him to try.

There are three tapes spread out on the bed beside him, just within reach of his hand that’s hovering over the rewind button of his little radio that’s seen better days but still hasn’t ripped a tape in months.

Once the song begins to fade, he presses the button, the dim light now accompanied by the familiar clicking and whirring and the thoughts of seven, eight, nine, ten, as Steve is counting the seconds before he has to press play again to listen to Space Age Love Song again.

He exhales a drawn-out breath as, with another definitive click, the song starts over. Gentle snares fill his room. And Steve breathes.

I saw your eyes.

And he smiles.

And you made me smile.

Because somehow.

For a little while

He’s thinking about Eddie.

I was falling in love.

And for a moment, while he breathes and stares and listens, that’s okay. For a moment, for the duration of this song, for the lifetimes it survived and the ones yet to come, that’s okay. The waves of the music carry him through time and space, carry him to a world where it’s safe. Where the safest thing to do about your heart’s desires is not lying in bed and staring at the ceiling.

The phone rings. It’s midnight and the phone rings. Steve is floating, anchored and weighed down by his skin and bones, breathing himself back into reality, because the phone rings.

He looks up and reaches for the landline phone on his bedside table, the movement sluggish to his heavy limbs.

The words take a while to form, but he’s aware that the other person can hear the music playing, they’ll know he’s here, they’ll know he listens. They’ll know, hopefully, that he’ll talk soon. He just… He just needs a second.

But then it’s only silence that meets him, and Steve frowns. Just as he’s about to open his mouth and ask, he can hear a breathy little, “Oh. Shit.”

And he blinks. Swallows. Leans up on one arm to fight the floating.

“Eddie?”

“Uhh. Hi, Stevie.”

There’s a tremor to Eddie’s voice that Steve can make out even through the music he’s reaching out to turn down the volume now. Alarm shoots through him, accompanied by protectiveness and the readiness to take ok the world. For Eddie. Again.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yeah!” Too fast. Too breathy. Too frantic, and Steve can hear the clinking of his rings against the plastic of Wayne’s landline phone. He can see Eddie wrapping the cord around his fingers, can picture him chewing on it, too. “I just— uh, I… I cleaned my room? Rearranged it, too. I really like how… Look, ignore this, okay? I realised that this was kinda dumb the moment you picked up the phone.”

Steve leans back again, his head hitting the pillow as he lets Eddie’s voice wash over him. He sounds nice against the low music still coming from beside Steve. Eddie always sounds nice. Steve kinda wants to listen to him forever most days.

“What’s dumb, Ed?”

A snort, and Steve wants to feel that breath tingling his cheek, or neck, or throat. He wants to touch that smile of self-deprecation he knows spreads Eddie’s lips now, and wants to turn it into something more genuine. More vulnerable. More his.

“Calling you at midnight and telling you that i cleaned my room.”

“And rearranged it,” Steve adds, helpless against the gentleness of his voice as he says it.

“Yeah. That.”

He smiles, his eyes finding their spot on the ceiling again as he reaches for the radio again, pressing rewind, because his heart is a fluttery little thing tonight, and he wants to bask in it for a moment. Wants to be allowed to pretend.

Something old washing into something new. The feeling fits well with the others, a tenderness inside his chest where Eddie lives, surrounded now by the song, wave after wave, and with the memory and possibility and chance of different lifetimes, different phone calls, different Steves.

“I don’t think that’s dumb, Ed,” he says after a while. “I like it when you tell me things, midnight or not.“

“I… That’s cool.” Silence. But an Eddie kind of silence that it’s always only a prelude. Always. For bigger things the longer it is. And Steve’s counted all the way to seven before Eddie, quietly, secretly, says, “I like telling you things. Midnight or not.”

The smile that splits Steve’s face is almost one that needs to be hidden in the pillows, with the way the world sees it as a challenge when he smiles. But he doesn’t hide it. Midnight smiles don’t need hiding.

“So tell me about your room.”

Another silence, only five beats this time, but it leaves Steve yearning for Eddie to fill it nonetheless.

“Do…“ One, two, three, four, f— “Do you wanna come over and see?”

And now it’s Steve who’s silent. Steve whose heart is beating so loud he forgets to count the seconds, forgets to fill the silence, forgets just for a while that he’s still only pretending, he’s still only longing, not reaching.

And still, still still, he asks, “Right now?”

Eddie’s answer is no more than a breath. “Yeah?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Okay. He wants to stay in bed longer, wants to cradle the phone to his ear and listen to Eddie. To his breathy little voice, like he knows about midnight smiles, and even more about midnight whispers.

He’s still floating in the car, having grabbed one of the tapes from his bed, letting the more synthetic snares and guitars fill the air he breathes that’s beginning to smell vaguely of leather and tobacco and soil and Eddie.

The more you live, the more you love. Or so they say.

It settles in his arms the same way the car’s gentle thrumming does; this certainty. The longing. The love.

He’s not even sure when it happened, only that he can’t get rid of it now. Doesn’t want to get rid of it, most days. Not yet. He’ll spend the rest of his life letting it go, but he wants to keep it for a while yet.

Especially with Eddie calling him at midnight just… Just to tell him something that makes him happy. Obviously, obviously makes him happy. So happy he wants to tell Steve about it. Like Steve is worthy of that, like he is the obvious choice.

It makes him giddy. Makes him float. Makes him turn up the volume, letting it almost ruin the moment, fragile as it is — but only almost.

He makes it to the trailer park in no time, finding Eddie already outside. Waiting for him.

No amount of inhaling and exhaling is enough to save Steve now, not with Eddie approaching his car before he even comes to a stop. Not with Eddie reaching out to open his door, looking at him, face painted in the light and shadow of the little overhead light of the Beemer.

“Hi,” Eddie says. “I cleaned my room.”

“And rearranged it,” Steve adds, an echo of earlier, the same smile on his lips, but Eddie doesn’t smile. Eddie just nods, frantic.

“That, yeah. But… I cleaned my room. And you’re here. Because I told you. Because I cleaned my room.”

Steve blinks, loosening his seatbelt and slowly, so as not to spook Eddie, he gets out of the car. Comes to a stop in front of Eddie, the door still open behind him.

“Eddie, what—“

“You’re here,” Eddie says again. “You like it when I tell you things.”

Steve nods, the cold November air not enough to save him; he still inhales Eddie, still exhales a longing so deep his lungs feel like they’ll never fill again.

“And you like telling me things,” he says, because Eddie’s gone silent, his wide eyes still frantic, and Steve wants to help.

“You’re here,” Eddie repeats again, like it has a meaning that Steve’s not catching.

He nods, then, heart and mind racing alike. “Because you asked.”

But Eddie shakes his head, still rooted to the spot, still keeping his eyes on Steve like he’s afraid he might disappear if he so much as blinks. Steve wouldn’t think of it. Will stay as long as Eddie wants to look at him.

“Because you want to. Because you like it. Because… Because I cleaned my room. And the first thing I wanted to do was tell you. And you listened. And you told me it’s not dumb, because you like it when I tell you things, and— Steve. Steve.”

He can’t look at those wide eyes anymore, not when he’s been found out, not when the heaviness is returning, weighing on his limbs and his heart, telling him to panic and to run and—

“Steve.” A whisper. A hand on his cheek. Not to tip his head up. Just to rest there. Just to stay. “I wanna tell you things all the time. The stupidest, littlest things. I wanna tell you because you’ll listen and because you’ll— you’ll make me feel like… Like this. Because you’re here! You’re here when all I did was clean my room. At midnight. Way past midnight, actually. I’m… I… God, I just.” An exhale, and it sounds a lot like Steve’s. “I love you.”

Steve’s head snaps up, his eyes meeting Eddie’s again. Searching for the lie, searching for the dream, searching for one of those lifetimes that aren’t meant for him. But he finds none. He finds sincerity; scared, vulnerable sincerity, like Eddie is a little bit insane with it.

Like he’s faring no better than Steve.

“You… You do?” Eddie nods, frantic again, the hand falling from Steve’s cheek so he can pick and bite at his nails. Unthinkingly, Steve reaches for his hands to hold them in his own. “I— I’m…”

“It’s okay, you don’t— uh, you don’t have to say anything. Really. Please don’t, actually, I’m just… You’re here. I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe you—“

“Ed,” Steve whispers. “Eddie.” They sallow in unison, the air charged between them but clearing in Steve’s vision now, carrying him no longer like someone floating along the tides yearning.

He’s not floating, he’s not lifetimes away. He’s here. He’s here.

“Can I… Can I try something? Can I kiss you? Please?” he adds in a whisper.

And it is with that same whisper, with that same shared breath, that Eddie says, “Please.”

The kiss is chaste, but it’s enough. Enough to survive the night, enough to be not the beginning and not the end, but something comfortably settled in the in-between.

When they break apart, Steve doesn’t let Eddie go far as he pulls him into his arms rather immediately. Just to hold him there. To let his mind catch up. To bask.

And it’s only after a while of breathing each other in, their hands roaming over the other boy’s back in ways more gentle than they were ever allowed to before, that Eddie breaks the silence.

“I really do wanna show you my room, though, that wasn’t a ruse.” He mumbles the words against the side of Steve’s throat, and Steve — still unsure of his footing ��� laughs and brushes a careful kiss against Eddie’s temple that leaves him with goosebumps.

“Ready when you are,” he says, though it’s almost a sigh. An exhale. Exhaling Eddie, and inhaling his warm smile and the smell of his hair. Steve leans in for another kiss to Eddie’s forehead, lingering this time.

In and out. It’s all Eddie.

Ring-clad fingers find their ways in between his own, and then Eddie tugs him — gently, like he’s afraid Steve will break if he moves too quickly; or maybe it’s Eddie’s who’ll break — toward the trailer.

Inside it’s warm, the lights are low, and the only thing illuminating Eddie’s room down the hall is a black string of warm white lights wandering along his walls and in between photos and pictures and drawings and posters that litter his wall.

And in the middle of it all, there’s Eddie. Smiling at him, giddy and gentle and genuine and so, so pretty. And Steve knows, then. Eddie’s room has never looked better.

(the songs are space age love song, and the more you live, the more you love by a flock of seagulls)

[sophisticatedswifts]

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart | Paris Night 4

[jemmacdraws]

More Eddie ♥️ [more versions on instagram]

[coolbattlegirl]

🐟 ☔️Playful Banter ❤️ ♠️

[marswritesstuff]

piercings & polyamory

a/n: i know this is totally out of my usual niche but when inspiration hits after literal months you gotta take advantage of it yk yk

content: nico di angelo x will solace x reader, they/them reader, reader is a hermes kid

warnings: vague description of a home done piercing, piercer knows what they’re doing but is not licensed

- nico di angelo is as close to a professional piercer that camp has.

- nico himself is covered in piercings- it seems every body part of his that can be is covered in black and silver, and tiny accents of gold.

- you are, by far, nico’s favorite “customer.”

- he always loves piercing will, but there’s something about the way you wring your hands while he marks out the piercing, something about the way his sheets bunch up in your fists when he pushes the needle through.

- nico gives you five piercings over the course of two years.

- will sits in for number four- it’s not uncommon for him to hang around the hades cabin.

- after it’s done, after nico carefully slides the jewelry into your lip and you grab his hands and thank him profusely, after you press a few drachmas into his hands despite his insistence that he doesn’t charge and close the door behind you, will rounds on nico immediately.

- “you like them!”

- nico knew that, of course, he wasn’t that emotionally unaware.

- however, whenever he imagined his boyfriend finding out about the secret he thought he’d hid so well, he’d never imagined the joy currently in will’s voice.

- nico met his boyfriend’s eyes slowly.

- “is that… okay?”

- will looked surprised for a second before sitting down next to nico.

- “neeks- did we- did we never have this conversation? wait, ok- nico,” will grabbed both of nico’s hands in his. “hi. i’m your boyfriend. i’m polyamorous. do you have something to tell me?”

———

- while you were showing off your new nico-piercing to your cabinmates, the door to the hermes cabin banged open.

- will solace entered, calling your name, and your cabinmates (the traitors) laughed and pushed you towards him.

- your heart sped up- you’d been nervous about will sitting in on the piercing, because you always felt like your suppressed crush on the son of hades was so much clearer when you were sat in his bed, pliable underneath his hands.

- it was in the same way that your feelings for will felt like they were being dragged out of your chest and right onto your face when he softly sings to you in the infirmary after you’re injured.

- will led you to an abandoned corner of the yard, where nico stood waiting for both of you.

- nico started talking as soon as you came to a standstill, not giving you a chance to get a word in.

- “ok, i don’t wanna give you the wrong impression. you don’t have to answer right now, and if you say no, it doesn’t change anything, i’ll keep piercing you just like anyone else, but-” nico gently grabbed will’s hand. “i like you. like, romantically. and will likes you too, also romantically. and we wanna know if… you’d go out with us?”

- will just nodded along, letting nico dominate the conversation.

- that… hadn’t been what you were expecting.

- it wasn’t like the possibility of polyamory with the two had never crossed your mind - it had crossed your mind a lot - but only ever as a fantasy! you had never expected it to become an actual possibility.

- but you weren’t gonna let such a good opportunity pass you by- “yeah! of- of course i’d want that!”

- will’s face broke into a grin, and nico had a small smile.

- “cool,” nico muttered, pink slowly creeping up his cheeks.

- will chuckled and grabbed your hand with his free one. “yeah, cool! now, how about dinner? the three of us?”

[fadedrainbowbookshelves]

Frank better hope there’s never any rogue letters fluttering around his living room anytime soon…

[w4lkmann]

[hi it's me again! suggestion 2: the xerox 820-II! i just came across this computer and. ough... just look at him...]

[he looks so happy to see you...] :]

[oh yeah also. got that image from this website:] https://www.digibarn.com/collections/systems/xerox820/index.html

[more images there if you want to see more of him!] :D

gosh he’s very cute … thank you for your patience on this!! i hope you like it!!

[albino-parakeet]

Work doodles that I colored when I got home. There’s some more unfinished Ben 10 x Sky drawings on the next page.

Ben is saying “A smoothie” on the right, that one ICarly meme.

[thechosenthree]

I am obsessed with Cordelia in Band Candy being all giddy over Buffy and ignoring Xander literally ONE episode after telling Buffy she might love him.

Buffy’s out here with her mildly funny quips and compliments and Cordy is laughing softly and smiling at her feet about it.

Like GIRL what is this <3

None of the rest of the Scoobies even cracked a smile lol

[zeb-z]

I’ve made a billion fucking drafts and can’t find the words to talk about cellbit and bagi from today. how the fuck do you explain the intricacies between a brother who has lived a life that has sharpened him to cut what he touches, and a sister who had to live with his absence? a man who has to see the childhood he never got to have whenever he looks at the woman he now knows is his twin? said twin who cannot understand why her brother would be anything but glad they are reunited? how do you get across that tangled mess of emotions cellbit had to get him to burn his old pet worm? the paradox of longing for what could have been while desperate to get rid of any reminder, with a healthy dose of paranoia that anything could be a federation bug. or the pure devotion bagi has to decide to stick with her brother even though he is not close to the same as he was when he went missing? the unfairness of it all, of cellbit being taken and made into a killer before he turned 14, of bagi looking for him at the detriment of her own safety and self, of ripped up childhoods and everything that could have been? the fact that the first thing cellbit asks is what he could have done to deserve it? the disgust he holds for himself for what he’s done, and the anger he has for the federation that’s taken everything from him, and the resentment he has towards bagi no matter how unfair it is because she never had to go through what he did? how after bagi swore to help him burn the federation down, cellbit went to bad instead, because bad was there and fought alongside him, and he trusts bad because he’s seen him at his worst, and all he feels like doing is his worst right now? the two of them so similar still because they’re consumed by their need for revenge, while bagi just wants to leave the island? how the fuck can you summarize all this and the emotions that accompany it?

[loverln]

very heroic, very plus ultra 🤭

[bra1n-r0tting]

can someone please explain to me why Murderface is so easy to draw?? Like the sketch of Nathan took me about 20 minutes to get it okay looking, but Murderface? Literally took 5 minutes.