#[ Modern Day ]

[steviewashere]

I want to write something sort of meta, hear me out on it. Sorry, if this hits too close to home. The idea came to me and I needed to get it out of my system. And...would you look at that, another half-written fic.

Steve ends up getting really into Star Wars after Dustin shows him to it. Like, so much that he gets himself involved with conventions, cosplay, collecting anything and everything he can. He's involved in a fandom space. Learns the world of fan fiction. And let's say that maybe, during his time figuring out where he wants to go with life, he picks up writing fanfic as a hobby.

It encourages him to get an English degree. Encourages him to lean more into that hobby, but then expanding upon it to write original short stories and small novels that go published. But he holds strong to Star Wars and fandom and finding his spot cemented in it. He's been a fan for...nearly forty years at this point (set in 2024, ugh I know).

And maybe he dabbles in online spaces here and there. He ignores the insufferable adults in the Star Wars fandom (the "um, actually..." guys, btw). Indulges the effort of typing out his handwritten fan fiction, ones he used to bring and pass around at conventions, ones he'd let Eddie read with a shy look in his eyes. And he posts them online, has a Tumblr account, maybe does a few short things on Twitter, definitely is on AO3 (albeit newer, having never attempted online fan work before).

But then...then he gets his first little bit of hate. Vicious, gross comments on his work. Sometimes in private messages. Even publicly, once, on Twitter. It irks him. He holds strong, he does. But then it gets worse and worse and somehow, worse. Younger people claiming he's too old, others claiming that he can't write for certain characters because they're out of his age range, that he can't ship certain people, he can't say that a character would do this or that, that Star Wars is media for a younger audience (despite being somebody who saw it "back in the day"). But that he...That he's not supposed to be there.

And that last little comment sticks with him for a long time. It makes his effort and his attention and his love for writing fanworks falter. He stops. Thinks about the characters he loves, of Leia and Han or even Luke and Han or Lando and Han (listen he loves writing Han). But then he wonders if it's even worth it, to indulge this interest anymore. Yeah, maybe he's older than the source material. Sure, maybe he was introduced to it a little later than most, but that doesn't mean he doesn't love it. Yet, his attention towards Star Wars completely falls away.

He stops watching it. His DVDs going dusty and unused. Starts putting away all his action figures, because what if he posts a photo one day and somebody sees them and claims that that's not for him and—

Then, he goes completely offline from fandom. Even if he still gets the emails from users who actually enjoy his stuff, ignoring them completely. Focuses on using the internet for work. For his novels, for the little stories he actually gets paid to write. But his work just isn't the same. The passion, despite being an original story and original source material, is completely dwindled.

His hobby has been stripped from him. His interest has been knocked straight out of his hands. And he just...moves on.

Even if it hurts to go down into the basement of he and Eddie's home, eyes catching on the see-through bins of original action figures, Lego sets, comic books. Even if it makes something strangle in his chest when he opens up the browser on his phone and it immediately opens to a new ship he'd been getting into: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker—because he finally picked up The Mandalorian, because he was finally talked into watching it when he had the free time.

And then it all bursts over when Eddie finally approaches him about it, when they're enjoying a night-in, sitting around lazily on their sofa.

"There's a convention coming into town," he comments, "supposedly, Hayden Christensen is going to be there. We should go, try and meet him."

Steve just grunts in response.

"Oh-kay...or we could just stay home and watch the movie?" Eddie suggests. "Been a while since I've seen Darth on screen, telling Luke about"—

"I don't want to," Steve cuts in quietly, "isn't really my thing anymore."

Silence then follows. For a beat. Then two. A third.

"Not your thing?" Eddie asks him incredulously. "Not too long ago you were raving all about that new show that's coming out! That you saw they were doing lightsaber whips and you were excited to see how they worked! What do you mean it's 'not your thing'?"

Steve shrugs. "Grew out of it or whatever. Got more important things to focus on now." He sniffs, trying to keep himself held together, grumpy and firm in his decision.

Eddie's stare drills into the side of his face. Scalding, just like that lava was in Revenge of The Sith. "Baby," he speaks softly, "did something happen? You haven't even...you don't read your beautiful little stories to me anymore. In fact, now that I think about it, I haven't even seen your lightsabers around here. What's goin' on?"

He fiddles with the hem of his shirt. A ratty plain white t-shirt that he wears now when he's lounging around the house. It used to be one with the Millennium Falcon on it, but that's tucked down far in his dresser. Not for him anymore.

"Steve," Eddie presses, "did something happen?"

His stare stays down at his lap, still fiddling with his shirt. Fingers flexing unfamiliarly in the strings, unlike the loose ones on his Star Wars shirts. "I just"—Steve heaves a deep sigh—"it's time I grow up. It's...not for me anymore. Too old for it now, I guess."

"You guess or you know? Because nobody's too old for anything. Unless, y'know, you're like eighty-nine and in terrible health and trying to hike Everest, then..."

Despite everything, Steve finds himself chuckling. A giddy little sound here and gone in a breath. He shrugs again, albeit smaller this time. Crumbling within himself. Quietly, honestly, he admits, "People were being mean to me about it online. About my writing. That I'm doing it wrong, that I—that I'm too old for it. That I don't belong because of my age." He finally brings himself to look at Eddie, blearily because his eyes are aching and wet. "I got to thinking and I...maybe I've just been too caught up in my own bliss to realize that those people are right. They're right and I shouldn't be into kids stuff anymore."

Eddie makes a soft, sad cooing noise in the back of his throat. "Oh, baby," he breathes. "Baby, those people don't know a single damn thing about your love. But...but I do. I know that you've seen every single Star Wars movie more times than I've probably eaten in my entire life. And what about all those Halloween costumes over the years? I didn't dress up like Leia for nothing, Mr. Solo."

Steve scoffs wetly. Goes to protest, but—

"And...and that handshake! The one with Dustin? You guys have had that for nearly forty fucking years! So, why bother indulging any of these...these hardasses on the internet? Did they sit next to you on the sofa as you fucking curled yourself like a shrimp and wrote every little intricate detail of a kiss between Luke and Han? Have they read your work while you blushed all shy, while you tucked your hair behind your ear and asked for the most earnest of feedback, to make sure you spelt things correctly or put a comma in the right place? These people, did they get to see you blossom and grow like a fucking bushel of roses over your hobby?

"Because I know I did. And even though you were nervous about your words on the paper, you still came to me. You still wrote and wrote and wrote until I had to bully you into breaks, just so you wouldn't ruin your poor wrists. If they had even an ounce of the passion that you do, they could write their own stories. They can make their own endings and make the characters the way they imagine them.

"They choose, instead, to—what—make fun of you because you have a space to express yourself? Because you found passion and turned it into something so beautiful, even I—a dungeon master, someone supposed to be amazing at storytelling—can't put into words? You found a way to do that, Steve. And you do that with kindness. You do it for free, mind you. If their only passion sits within sending you vitriol over people who aren't even remotely close to real, then they're the ones who don't belong.

"If I've learned anything, fandom is a space to share and bounce off each other's words. It's community and it's belonging and it's sharing what you love because you just love it. Fandom isn't bullying. Bullying is just bullying, Steve.

"And everything you've ever done in your life, in regards to fandom and outside of it, is so much better than hate. You may be a nerd or...or a little bit overzealous or whatever, but at least you aren't hateful. I think being hateful, that's worse—don't you think?"

Steve can only stare in response, fast tears down his cheeks, hands shaking in his shirt. Mind reeling. Because, yes, Eddie's right. And he maybe should've talked about it initially, but the hurt festered and festered and tangled and grew until he was nothing but an unhealed scab. And Eddie, he's the antiseptic to his uncovered cuts—the ones deep on his heart, where all his love is—even for things considered mundane, like movies, like TV shows.

"Steve," Eddie carefully murmurs, wrapping Steve's hands with his own, "you don't have to do something right to love it. You don't have to be a certain way to be happy. If Star Wars made you happy, then why give it up?"

He sniffles and chokes back on a sob. Because, again—damnit—Eddie's right. "I miss it," he admits quietly, "all I've done is miss it."

Eddie gives him a small smile. Something achingly soft that reaches deep within Steve. "Then open your arms and welcome it back, baby," he whispers, "even if you can't be online anymore, do it for yourself."

"I...I want to try it again, I'm just...scared. What if people hate it all over again? What if they're just nasty to me and shut me down and push me to the side and"—

"But what if they love it? What if your readers have missed you just as much?"

"You think?" he meekly asks.

Eddie's eyes widen and his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. "I know, actually. Your emails keep coming in on the computer's desktop because I keep forgetting to log you out. And, baby, you would not believe how many people have been eager for updates, for your return." His thumbs work into the backs of Steve's hands, warm and sure. "And, if it helps, maybe I can moderate your comments before you look at 'em? I'll read them to myself and if they're mean, I'll delete them."

Steve blows out a breathy little chuckle. "You'll just get mad at them," he gently teases. "But that doesn't sound too bad. Maybe I should try again. Not yet, though. I'm not ready."

"That's okay," Eddie assures, "take things slow. Maybe we start with watching the movies again? Getting your lightsabers back on display?"

"Can we go to the convention, too?"

"We can do whatever you want, Stevie."

For the first time in a long while, Steve finds himself smiling. "I love you," he whispers.

"I know."

[urielbestgirl]

The lot of y'all tweaking over ochaco/deku getting together need to calm down, at the end of the day, mha is published in shounen jump, they were never gonna let the gays win. Y'all got complacent and spoiled by canon, and now look at you. Should have just done the sensible thing, and accept the fact that canon is just a suggestion. They didn't get together, fck that, yes they did. This is why ao3 exists ppl!!!!! 😤👏👏👏

[elevenharbor]

kagome lo-fi

Tell me something, girl….

Are you happy in this modern world?

Or do you need more?

Is there something else you’re searching for?

audio: “Shallow” by Tommee Profitt & Fleurie

[astarion-approves]

The Waiter

'There stood the most gorgeous man Tav had ever seen in their life. Tall with pale skin, ruby red eyes, and hair as white as snow. There was a certain air about him, it felt like being charmed into bed without so much as speaking a single word in return.'

The reader falls in love with their waiter in the Czech Republic.

Modern day 'reader' x Astarion. 1.7k words

Slightly NSFT (no actual sex or descriptive sex), excessive second hand embarrassment, reader is a moron, some Czech, third person.

Thank you to @chenziee for your help on this. I only speak English and she was an absolute saint to translate some dialogue for me.

Keep reading for the full story.

The Czech Republic was seemingly a little peaceful country compared to America, but the food was… interesting to say the least. Time after time, Tav found themselves in search of something familiar to have during their vacation. They ended up spending more time having fruit, cheese, and wine than anything else.

Finally, their friend, Eliška, put her foot down, dragging Tav to a traditional restaurant and insisting they try the food that her country has to offer.

“I warned you before you came to visit,” the friend said with a soft laugh as they were both seated at a small circular table. “I knew you wouldn’t like our food.”

Tav crossed their arms over their chest in defense. “It’s not my fault all your food looks so…” They gestured to a plate being carried out from the kitchen, something that looked like raw dough covered in a brown gravy with some form of meat and cabbage next to it. “Whatever the hell that is.”

“Vepřo knedlo zelo,” Eliška spoke quickly, the foreign language beautiful but words Tav didn’t understand. “It’s roast pork, dumplings, and sauerkraut.”

Tav shrugged. “That doesn’t sound bad. I guess I could get that.”

“Nope,” Eliška shook her head and opened the menu that was sitting on the table. “I’ll be picking for you.”

“Oh shit,” Tav grabbed their own menu, hoping to see what monstrosity their friend might order for them.

But of course it was all in Czech.

“Anything but blood sausage, please.”

Eliška snorted but continued flipping through the menu, a menu with no pictures of course.

While she browsed you stared at what you assumed was the wine menu, ‘Víno’ was one of the only words Tav managed to learn thus far and being drunk on vacation was their plan for most of the trip anyway.

“Dobrý den. Máte vybráno?”

Tav looked up from their menu, their eyes meeting with the waiter, and they felt as if they’d been kicked in the chest.

There stood the most gorgeous man Tav had ever seen in their life. Tall with pale skin, ruby red eyes, and hair as white as snow. There was a certain air about him, it felt like being charmed into bed without so much as speaking a single word in return.

Tav leaned forward in their chair, trying to figure out if those red eyes were just a pair of contact lenses. He tilted his head and raised a single brow at them.

Fuck—that was adorable.

Tav looked to their friend, who was still studying the menu. They mumbled something to the waiter, which Tav assumed was ‘just a second.’ The waiter nodded and turned to leave—

“Is he on the menu?” Tav blurted out before the waiter was outside of ear shot. “Because I want a bite of that."

“Jesus Christ, Tav.” Eliška swung the menu across the table, successfully hitting Tav on the side of their head. “Don’t just say shit like that!”

“It’s not like he speaks English anyway!” Tav defended. They’ve only been in the Czech Republic for a few days but besides their friend and other tourists they haven’t come across many non-native English speakers that could understand Tav’s version of English. Plus, only much younger people seemed to be learning English, while their waiter looked to be in his early 40s. “Anyone who speaks English here can’t understand me, we’re fine. I speak too quickly, remember?”

Eliška glared at Tav. “You only say that because I do all the talking. Please just.. try to hold your tongue. You could offend him.”

Tav held their hands up. “No promises.”

Soon the waiter returned, carrying two glasses, one in each hand. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing his strong forearms riddled with thick veins. Tav sat back in their chair and just watched as the man put a glass down in front of them. How could forearms be that sexy?

“We need a new waiter, I’m going to melt just by looking at this man.”

“Tav,” Eliška hissed. “Shut the fuck up.”

He looked between the two of you in confusion before speaking, “Vybrali jste?”

“Dvakrát tlačenku s chlebem, džbán s vodou a sedmičku rulandy červené, prosím,” Eliška replied quickly, refusing to look at Tav while they spoke.

The waiter nodded, scribbling into a notepad with what Tav assumed was Eliška’s order.

“Did you get wine? If not put him in a tall glass for me—“

Eliška kicked Tav under the table, making them gasp in pain. Those heels were vicious.

“Ask him what his name is, I want to know what name I’m going to be dreaming of tonight.”

“Tav—“

“Oh my god we should ask him to take a picture with us to celebrate my first traditional meal—“

“Tav, stop—“

“Oh yes, kind sir, in my country waiters do take their shirts off for photos, it’s perfectly normal—“

“Tav, so help me god—“

“What’s ‘please fuck me’ in Czech?”

“‘Fuck’ is pretty fucking universal word, you idiot.”

“Just ask him his name, please?” Tav put their hands together, begging their friend for this one favor. This one obnoxious, ridiculous favor.

Eliška sighed and turned to the waiter, who still stood there looking confused but seemingly entertained at their interaction. “Já se moc omlouvám, mojeho kamaráda by hrozně zajímalo... Jak se jmenujete?”

The waiter chuckled, putting his notepad away and turning to Tav. He crouched down, putting himself at eye level with Tav. “Astarion,” he spoke slowly, softly, his voice deep and calm. Those red eyes stared back at Tav with ease, glimmering with amusement.

“Oh,” Tav breathed out. “Fuck, even his name is gorgeous… Astarion.”

Astarion smiled and stood back up, then Eliška thanked him and finally let him leave the table, the waiter pausing to look back at their table once before going into the kitchen.

“Astarion,” Tav repeated the name, enjoying the way it felt on their tongue. “Astarion—“

“Mhm, and not a common name in Czech at all, Tav.”

“Sounds Czech to me.”

“It’s not—“

“Oh he’s coming back!” Tav was grinning at his return, excited to see him again so soon, and carrying a bottle of red wine.”

Astarion opened the bottle with ease, pouring some into a glass and handing it to Eliška to be tested. She lightly twirled the glass before taking a small sip. But Tav wasn’t even paying attention to what she thought of the wine. They were more interested in watching Astarion as they worked.

“He opened the bottle so easily, Eliška. It's official. I'm in love.”

Eliška hummed and took another sip of the wine. “It’s literally his job to open bottles all day, Tav.”

“Bet he’s skilled with those long fingers then.”

Eliška ignored Tav and put her glass down. She spoke to Astarion, who filled the glasses and placed the bottle down between them.

Soon Astarion was leaving again, only to return shortly and carrying two plates to their table. Tav smiled as the meal was placed in front of them—

But the smile dropped into a frown when they looked from Astarion’s handsome face to the plate he just set down.

“What in the fuck did you order us?”

Eliška snorted into her wine, breaking into a laugh as she watched Tav stare at their meal in shock. “It’s domácí tlačenka.”

“Eliška, this looks like if you took bologna and made it evil.” Tav poked at the meat with a fork, unsure of how to proceed.

“Try it,” Eliška replied. “You’ll like it.”

“Astarion,” Tav looked away from their plate and to the now grinning waiter, at least he was being entertained by the silly picky American. “My future husband, can you believe she’s trying to make me eat this?”

“No.”

“See!” Tav pushed their plate away, refusing to try the dish. “Even this handsome god of a man doesn’t like it.”

“Uhhhh… Tav—“ Eliška tried to speak before being cut off by them.

“You can eat this weird ass dish, meanwhile I’m going to drag Astarion to the nearest hotel and let him be my meal instead,” Tav said and laughed at their own joke.

Eliška just stared at Tav in horror. “Tav… you need to stop speaking now.”

“Stop worrying,” Tav said and rolled their eyes. “He doesn’t understand me. Right, Astarion?”

“Right.”

“Just like I said, Eliška. He doesn’t speak a single word of English.”

“Not a single word,” Astarion said with a nod.

“Tav, please... take a second and think—“ Eliška grimaced as Tav cut her off once again. This time the woman keeping her mouth shut.

“I could go on for hours with everything playing through my mind right now with this man—“

“Oh my, please do tell.“

Tav laughed and turned their focus onto the waiter, who simply smiled back at them. “I’m here for two more weeks on vacation but I don’t want to see the sun again. I want you in my hotel room, fucking me until I can’t walk, fucking me until I forget my own name, fucking me until I lose sense of time and the Czech government comes to find me because I’ve been reported missing—“

“That is an awful lot of sex, not that I’m opposed to it—“

“I’m going to drag you back home with me, just so I can wake up every morning and see the most handsome creature in the world lying next to me every day of the rest for my life.”

“How romantic.”

“Then I’ll marry you and we’ll be together forever.”

“Fine. But only if we continue living here. American healthcare is a joke.”

Tav laughed and turned back to Eliška, smirking at them in a ‘I told you so’ kind of way.

“See? He doesn’t speak any English.”

“Tav… You are an absolute fucking moron.”

“What—“

Astarion hummed, drawing Tav’s attention back to himself.. “I can’t miss work, but I do get off in two hours. Let’s try a date first, before we get married. Alright?”

Astarion turned and left, the waiter laughing to himself as he disappeared into the kitchen once more.

“Wait…” Tav looked from the kitchen and to Eliška. “Did he just speak English?”

Eliška just shook her head in disbelief.

[justporo]

Here's a quick and fun thought experiment: how would you picture Astarion if he was a modern day character?

And I have thoughts about that, but I also wanna hear your ideas!

Very random modern day Astarion headcanons

He'd live in a big city - ofc, he's a city boy, so maybe LA, New York? I think London would be a great fit!

He'd love fashion, I can see him wear anything from wearing a three-piece suit to a low cut shirt and leather pants with boots when he's awfully casual (a modern day take of his camp outfit)

Also: he'd always wear the coolest sunglasses

He'd work a big corporate job - in which no one knows why he made a C-level position and is mostly just lounging in his huge office (very much "Mad Men" vibes - but surprisingly he gets the company a lot of clients??

Oh he would definitely have a skincare routine

And a soft spot for musicals

He'd drive a needlessly expensive and flamboyant car (like a sports car, I'm thinking) and blast loud music while leaving office parking (like Speed Drive by Charlie XCX) (also imagine getting picked up like this?)

Goes to Starbucks everyday, insists he only drinks black coffee, but secretly gets their super sugary cute drinks

Huge loft apartment with tall windows to let in lots of light

Does have an Instagram account on which he only posts thirsttraps

So, these are some very random ideas my idea has accumulated over the last few weeks. Do you have more and other ideas?

[ifwuuu]

how i imagine bully characters as modern day teenagers 👍🏼

plz note that some of these aren’t really realistic— i got everything off of pinterest so don’t lynch me plz

jimmy hopkins :

even though he’s canonically ginger, he’d probably like bleaching his hair since it’s been popular in 2020’s and current year ( ignore that he doesn’t have freckles in the pic )

what he’d wear :

classic skater boy y2k style, id like to imagine that he owns different types of skateboards and then hangs them up on his wall in his bedroom,

hence shifting to his bedroom would be like :

this is what you’d get when he’d actually clean his room for a change /j

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

gary smith :

if we’re gonna be blunt, he’d probably be the type to post one of those cheesy ass thrust trap videos ( for his ego boost, of course )

and then it’d get three likes.

i tried finding one that actually had a scar over his eye but i couldn’t 😔

what he’d wear :

posting up with the death note ahh fit ( oh, yeah, he’d like some forms of anime but would NEVER admit it to jimmy or pete )

his bedroom :

20 million posters on the wall thanks to his ADD and autism ( argue with the wall lol ) he’d keep his room decently clean, but then never care to find his medicine in there unless if pete forces him to take it for once, and peak the one pillow on his bed

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

pete kowalski :

this is a more fanon outlook since a lot of people draw him as mixed / african american, so we’re just gonna go with this 👍🏼

what he’d wear :

the boys a dork, you think he’s gonna dress basic ?

also, I’d like to add that he’d probably be mistaken for being in the nerds clique since he would like to read a lot and have a lot of interests and whatnot

his bedroom :

he’d probably like rap music ( specially tyler, the creator and many other popular rappers )

but, he got a little bit of some OCD so he likes to keep his room super clean and organized or he’d tweak out 😭

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

uhh u put an ask if you want me to do other characters, and i can do ur ocs too— I wouldn’t mind that at all 😊

[lovely-amora]

I’m fucking DEAD,you idiot!

Pt2 —— Pt3

A specter of a sort had been following Tav's group for a while. Gale was first to notice but didn’t realize that acknowledging the ghost would bring so many surprises.

Your specter form wandered around. You’d never left Balder’s Gate since there’s a lot to see and never enough time to do it. Besides the attack from that weird tentacle thing was kinda simulating. You floated beyond the city limits and wandered. You didn’t know exactly where you were going but you felt a particular pull to a grove with Druids that had been bombarded with Teiflings. They were well meaning, trying their best to pull their weight and to avoid conflict but it never made any sense how hostile the druids were to them. Even the kids.

You couldn't help them in the state you were in. You were simply a being that could only watch and never be seen, no better than the many onlookers that watched the problems fester. It was until you saw them. It was a strange group that you could sense something weird from them. The leader Tav was a strong willed person. A being that felt stronger than what met the eye. Tav was followed by several people. They seemed to be joined in a shared pain or experience.

But there was one who stood out to you. Who seemed to shine in your eyes more so than anyone else in this group of oddballs.

His presence was like a gust of wind, stirring the leaves and quickening the pulse. With every word he spoke, wisdom dripped from his lips like honey, sweet and irresistible.

But it wasn't just his intellect that caught your attention; it was the fire in his eyes, the passion that burned bright within him. He spoke of his magic like a lover recounting tales of forbidden romance, and you found yourself drawn to the flame of his fervor.

It was impossible for you not to follow him. The transparent you that clearly didn't belong anywhere. A part of you wished to be real for even a moment. To be able to hold his hand or to even give him a smile that he could actually see.

You watched as Gale taught Tav how to channel the weave. Something inside you felt jealous. You wanted to be the one who he taught. While Tav and Gale had interactions that seemed friendly at best, you still wish to stand with him. You clicked your tongue and watched as he explained how to channel the weave. You did your best to follow but you had minimal success. It was pretty good for a dead person. However, when you did succeed...you phased through the floor from your own excitement.

You wanted Gale to praise you. To tell you that you did a good job but those were words reserved for Tav. Words that you will never hear from him or anyone else.

You felt a sense of sadness, you knew that it was never going to happen. That you were a weird case and would never interact with someone else in such ways again.

You floated over the nearby lake. The moon reflected on the water. It was beautiful. Too beautiful for your sad mood. You stretched out your hands and started to use your weaker version of the weave to try and recreate the few memories you had.

Being in a bed.

Loved ones surrounding you.

A doctor saying you were in a coma. That he was unsure you'd ever wake up.

You shook the weave off you. The lonely feeling eating away at your ghastly body as you stood on top of the water.

"I knew it. I'm not crazy." Gale's voice rung in your ears. He seemed to sound like he saw you. You laughed upset as you sigh.

"Why do I always expect something to change?" You mutter. You turn to get from the center of the lake but Gale was there. He didn't say anything. He only stared at you. His gaze was soft, as if he saw something that only he may admire. The kind of gaze you wish was directed to you.

As you looked at him, a thought came to mind.

Who was he looking at?

You turned around to look at the other side of the lake but there was no one. You paused as you stopped floating to where land met water.

"Is he looking at- GAH!" He had gotten so close so quickly. If you had been with beating heart, you'd die on the spot from the scare. The only thing that his jump scare caused was you flying up into the trees, losing control of your body.

"Sorry! I didn't realize that I could hear you as well!" Gale promptly apologized. You stare at him strangely but then laughed wholeheartedly. This situation was crazy. A ghost and a wizard talking on the same plane.

"You can see me? You hear me to? Oh this is crazy." Excitement in you was high but also worry. How long could he see you?

"It's been quite some time since I've been able to see you. You're quite the curious one."

The two talked. You told him what you knew about him and his group. The silly things his group mates would do when they thought no one was watching. He explained the weave to you as you did your best to follow.

"Oh! And then Your friend Wyll? He got his horns stuck in a tree!" You laughed as you recount the moment. Gale enjoyed how you got along. He found it weird that he wished to be friends with a ghost but it was fun for him.

"Have you ever wanted to live again? I mean, I think there are ways to get you a body you may control." Gale offered halfheartedly. He knew of some ways but they weren't ways he was confident in.

"Of course. Who wouldn't want to live? I just...I can't exist in such a form." You jolt as your mouth had went faster than your thoughts. You promptly said goodnight to him and left him with confusion as to what you meant.

As time has gotten away from the two of you, Gale got closer to you. It didn't matter where but he'd always find a way to speak with you. Even in the under dark, he carefully whispered with you where he rested. If there was anything he looked forward to, it was the little conversations that you shared. The only thing that he was sad about is that you never spoke of yourself. Not your past, not your fears, gods he doesn't even know your name.

"Hey. Why haven't you told me your name yet?" He carefully pondered. You shrug as you cross your legs in the air, hanging upside down.

"Don't remember it too well. I remember other things just not that." Gale clicked his tongue sad. He then grinned.

"I'll name you then! Avira! It means specter." You nod thinking to yourself. As much as you cared for him, you couldn't allow yourself to get too close. No matter how much you wish for it. It's not really something that can happen with your situation.

"Gale. We should stop. Whatever this is." Your gestures were loud. Your hands moving with each word as you tried to distract yourself from his response.

"What."

"I mean. What good is being around a specter?" You argued.

"You're my friend! The hells you mean what good?!" Gale grit his teeth as he tried to understand.

"I'm just saying-"

"That I'm not worth sticking your neck out for?" Gale accused. He could only see his past lover. The goddess who wouldn't allow him what he craved and how useless he felt before her. You weren't her but gods...did he feel as if you were.

"You want yer fucking answer?!" A sudden angry accent came from you.

"Yeah! Give me your pathetic reason for leaving me!"

"I'M AS GOOD AS FUCKING DEAD YOU IDIOT!"

Your form disappeared as soon as you shouted this. When his mind calmed however, you were long gone. No evidence of your existence and as the others didn't know of you, he had no one to reach out to about this. The only thing that nagged at him were your final words to him.

What did you mean by as good as dead?

Were you not dead already?

[dimalink]

So, at the hill in summer. To look, at the sky above. What a beautiful sky! Sky, clouds. And, grass is so green. It is so nice to sit in the grass. And from the hill, by the way, it opens a cool view.

At the civilization of the future. You sit in a grass, in a forest. Relaxing. Having a free time. And look at two such a big buildings. So, there are even more of them there. But these two are in a photography. High buildings. Even, hard to say, how much floors it has. Maybe, it is possible to flight straight in space, having such buildings.

Maybe, in this building, a very clever engineers are working. And they make a calculations, writes programs. And, as a real thing, they plan a space flight, maybe, something like that. At a real space ship. And in the evening, after working day, they run to the grass. To sit and drink a tea.

And from a hill it is opens such a view. Almost, like two rockets. Which are rising to space. So, things like this, really cool things, you cannot find, maybe for everyday! And also, a cool weather - very summer!

[thequeerbrainrot]

Jacaerys: So, do you have any petnames you call Aemond?

Lucerys: No, that's stupid. I just call him Aemond.

Later at dinner.

Lucerys: Daddy can you pass me the sauce.

Daemon, Laenor, Harwin and Aemond all reach to grab the bottle.

Jacaerys: REALLY LUKE, THAT'S THE PETNAME?

Lucerys: *dies of embarrassment and slides down his chair*

[cyberneurotism]

monday we had an art history lecture and lecturer was talking about the statue on the left so I sent this to everyone

[cherripieee]

Made For You💋

pairing: Robin Buckley x fem!reader

summary: Nothing between you two was serious, it was meant to be lighthearted fun. But you don't want it to be that way anymore. You need her. You need Robin Buckley. You were made for her.

warnings: mentions of spicy times, angst, established relationship between robin and vickie, sad ending

���───────•°•❀•°•───────•

She's the love of your life? That's putting it mildly. You were head over heels smitten, fallen in love with the one and only Robin Buckley. You didn't know how or when these feelings started hitting you like a dump truck, but it was definitely recent.

Back when the two of you would hook up on the daily, it was casual. It was a simple relationship: I give you what you want, you give me what I want. Nothing about it was complicated. But you broke the main rule of your relationship. DONT. GET. FEELINGS. INVOLVED.

Now that you think about it, it started when Robin didn't call you as often to hook up. And when she did, you realized that she wasn't fully into it. She'd lose interest and leave as soon as she was done with you and wouldn't contact you for a few days. You thought nothing of it at the time. She wasn't your girlfriend; you could care less about what she decided to do.

But now you did. You cared about every move she made, every decision she would make...you cared a lot. It's been almost a month since the two of you have spoken, and it's been almost three since you've hooked up. You were tired of this silent treatment.

So here you are, standing in the crowd of a bunch of people. But you didn't care about this group of people, you cared about one person in particular. You waited and waited for her to show up, hoping that Eddie didn't somehow jinx it with that dumbass wink he gave you earlier.

You're about to give up and just watch the show until you see someone walk in with a very familiar shirt. 'Treat Your Girl Right' was plastered on the shirt with big red letters. That shirt was familiar because you let Robin borrow it the first night you two hooked up. And you were right.

The girl turns around to reveal a smiling Robin, her hair swishing to the side as she whips around to speak to the girl she came with. But you can't even see that girl, you only see Robin. You're pretty sure that there's hearts in your eyes as you look at her, she's so fucking pretty.

You feel as if everything has stopped when you look at her. How can a person get more and more gorgeous every time you look at them? You didn't know how, but you weren't complaining.

You don't even stop yourself from pushing past all the people to get to her, not getting a single second thought. You needed to speak with her urgently and just...see her again. Feel her again... No, those weren't the right words at all. You craved her.

"Robin...hey." Are the only words you can manage to get out of your throat as you stand right in front of her. From a distance, she was gorgeous. But up close? You felt like you were about to faint. She's just so...perfect.

Robin's smile suddenly fades as she sees you, a look of awkwardness and annoyance that makes your stomach churn. The girl she's with is staring at you, her eyes darting between you and Robin.

"Hey." Robin replies, giving you a small wave.

The eye-contact is awkward yet alluring at the same time. You want to walk away, but you also want to get closer...

"Hi!" You snap yourself out of your thoughts as the red-headed girl next to Robin gives you a big grin. It's too big. You already don't like her.

Before you can even speak, the girl keeps talking. "I'm Vickie, Robin's girlfriend!"

There's a pang in your chest.

Girlfriend.

GIRLFRIEND?

You're confused, but everything adds up now. Robin hasn't spoken to you in months because she found someone else. Even if it was a friends with benefits situation, she still could've at least warned you, right?

You're not sure what your first reaction is. Hurt? Anger? Betrayal? Or are you just being dramatic? Or even delusional?

Robin realizes that you didn't respond right away, so she pats Vickie's shoulder and gives you a solemn look.

"Look, I-"

You cut her off, not wanting to hear her explanation. At least, not in front of Vickie.

"Can we talk in private, please?" If she refused, you don't know what'd you do. You'd resort to fucking pleading, begging on your knees for her to at least have a conversation with you.

Luckily, you don't have to resort to pleading anytime soon. Robin slowly nods her head, telling Vickie that she'll be right back before following you through the crowd of people to the back entrance. As the two of you slip out, the cold night air hits you. It's summer, but why did it feel so chilly? Maybe it wasn't the weather, it was just you.

Robin's back is against the brick wall, staring deeply into your eyes. You can already tell by the look on her face that this conversation wasn't going to be a good one.

"Why didn't you talk to me, Robin?"

She shuffles her feet, looking down at the ground. "I'm sorry. I should have called you."

Yeah, well no shit.

“Does Vickie know?”

She stays silent, and now you instantly know the situation.

Vickie doesn’t know that you and Robin hooked up, and in an attempt to save her relationship; she dumps you and distances herself.

You’re hurt.

You’re angry.

You’re betrayed.

“…I’m so sorry, I-”

You let out a dry snicker, waving her off with your hand as you walked away. That wasn’t the conversation you were hoping for, but it was the one you had gotten.

You were expecting something way different than this.

And now, your friendship with Robin is ruined.

You watched the show in silence, while the lively crowd is jumping and dancing along to the band’s music. Looking over to your side, you see Robin and Vickie smiling and jumping along with the crowd…

…it’s like she doesn’t even care about you.

With every beat of the music, it feels like your heart is shattering into a million pieces and weights of jealousy and anger are pulling you down.

After a long, miserable two hours, the concert has ended and you’re backstage waiting for Eddie since you promised to take him home.

He hops off stage along with his bandmates, patting each other on the back and smiling. He turns to you, he’s sweaty and there’s pieces of curly hair sticking to his forehead. “So, did you get your girl back?” He asks, enthusiastically.

…you burst into tears.

Eddie instantly wraps his arms around you, trying to comfort you. He honestly knew that something bad was going to happen, but for your sake he needed to be positive. You were head over heels for this girl.

You told him every single detail. On how you saw her with Vickie and she looked happy without you, how your conversation didn’t even last that long, and on how Vickie didn’t even know about you and Robin’s relationship.

The two of you were just hooking up, why couldn’t you get that in your head?!

There was two reasons.

You’re delusional.

And in love with Robin Buckley.

[acmeoop]

The “New” Flintstones Show 1970’s Concept Art

After the “Pebbles & Bamm Bamm Show”, H-B considered bringing the Stone Age characters into the modern era, but that idea got scrapped…

[blackbrownfamily]

[sock-to-the-third]

“Let all become mid-ocean. Let me become the flood.”

pg438 of Chapter 31, Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo

[the-golden-comet]

✨🏃💨 OC Questionnaire 💛✨

Thank you for the tag, @theink-stainedfolk ! 💛✨

My questions:

1. How do you find balance between your personal desires and your responsibilities?

2. What is your most cherished memory?

3. What is the most challenging decision you've ever had to make?

Your questions:

1. How do you handle high-pressure situations?

2. What is your favorite outdoor activity?

3. Who in your life do you love the most?

Oh…haven’t seen you yet, Nathan. What a post to introduce yourself on! 💛✨

(SHH! Keep it down!!)

Okaaaay, let’s cut to the chase: I’m able to work my personal time into the day in between power-napping. I work night shift, and basically whenever my, uh… “company” needs me to do something, so I’m pretty much on-call whenever. If I do well in my miss—er, work—usually my company gives me a weekend to rest and recuperate for the next….shift.

Oh uh…hm….maybe when my boss took me out for dessert the day the company adopted me from the orphanage…must’ve been….8 or 9….? He’s a hardass, but he’s the only family I’ve ever known.

God…(sigh)….agreeing to take the stupid operat—the task—of….uh….“being friendly with the museum security officer”….I had no idea he liked me, okay?! This is an awful idea, but….(grinning, speaking through gritted teeth)….a job is a job.

Okay, I gotta go. We’ll have to chat some other time, okay? Later~! ✌️

Leaving this as an +open tag for whoever wants to join! ✨