#[ this is too long oh my gosh ]

[egophiliac]

something quick to relieve the tension of these final hours ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

close-up, 'cause it got kinda lost in resizing:

[tallyhoot]

[_^

[nikoforgot]

Can you set me free? Will you take my soul away?

[ask-the-dark-sanses-and-more]

To dust: “how’s your papyrus doing?”

now, at the castle...

SLIGHT JUMPSCARE WARNING NEAR END

thank you for the ask!

nightmare gets stronger with negative emotions.

Ending text transcription:

"YOU. CREATORS. LEAVE THEM BE. They are NOT out-codes."

nobody tell him phantom papyrus is a hallucination

《FIRST》 《PREVIOUS》 《NEXT》

[kindlythevoid]

May 11th, Letter from Miss Lucy Westenra to Miss Mina Murray

Dracula by Bram Stoker // @fairycosmos // Pinterest // Us Against You by Fredrik Backman // Daniel F. Gerhartz // To My School Friends by Nivya // Old Friends by Ben Rector // Pinterest // Dracula by Bram Stoker // butterflies rising // Passion by Francisco Soria Aedo // Strawberry Blond by Mitski // Paul and Virginia by Alessandro Puttinati // Pinterest // Dracula by Bram Stoker

Jonathan Harker's Insta Begins Here, Mina's Interlude (prev), Next Insta Post

[sentientstump]

what have we become?

[needahugfromesme]

Desire

[mobius-m-mobius]

ok that beauty and the beast au has got me thinking: what other fairytale aus could fit lokius? I was thinking maybe sleeping beauty but if u have other ideas I’d really wanna hear them :)))

Yoooooooo Sleeping Beauty is an unreal fit!! 😍

I mean you know I instantly think of everything in context of Mobius lol, therefore my first thought was Loki "waking" him up to the truth of the TVA but honestly Loki's interest initially hinges on Mobius surprising him at every turn while Mobius was smitten from the start so instead I LOVE the thought of Mobius hearing rumors of a prince cursed in eternal slumber that everyone's given up on and most almost seem happy to be rid of??

Then when he starts studying up on the situation (analyzing Asgardian lore or something) he's swept up in awe over Loki's power and depths of their magic, notices details others overlooked about their wit, motivation, sense of humor, etc, and ends up telling Loki's prone self all about how amazing he really is when he finally finds him! Ofc being Mobius, he's happy sitting there being good company for a while until Loki wakes up, cleaning up the place a little while recounting some of his favorite stories from Loki's life, wishing he could've been there to see them in person while Loki started off being insanely annoyed at this commoner who dared barge in making assumptions about their life and is now captivated by such genuine kindness that's seen right through them in a way no one ever has before 😭

Not only that, but in spending so much time there Mobius has inadvertently let slip details of his own life as well and it paints for such a lonely and self-deprecating picture that the desire to tell him how incredible he is and lucky anyone would be to have him in their life might just be enough of a pull to wake up 🥺💖

Sorry for rambling there but I genuinely can't get enough of how well EVERY story or trope works for Lokius, their power as a ship will forever be unmatched! As for other fairy tales this is just off the top of my head but maybe a Cinderella AU where Mobius is meant to infiltrate a ball at the palace to get info on Odin and ends up meeting Loki who can instantly tell he isn't meant to be there but curious enough about his motivations and relived to be spending time with someone new that he shadows him for the night under the guise of using whatever dirt there is on Odin for his own benefit when really it's just nice to finally enjoy spending time with someone until he becomes desperate to figure out who Mobius is once all that's left of an unexpectedly perfect night is the fading glow of a time door 👀👀

[liqu3d]

The boss design I have been cooked since last year lol

I tried to make them have 1930’s vibe because we only see the boss with the telephone and 1930’s were when telephones are most popular.

Also I ref their clothes with these photos

Their head weird like that because it intend to be horns but it slowly turn to moon-like shape or even meteorite somehow (It look cooler to me idk). Also I add the halo on their head like those rings on planets like Jupiter because I thought it would be cool and so they can have more angle-like look

Bonus their old designs. I had change sooooo much things of them it funny

@chaosaliien

[morethanwords229]

After All - Chapter 1 - morethanwords229 - Law & Order: SVU [Archive of Our Own]

Decades of experience dealing with high stakes situations don’t really count for as much as he’d like when he’s staring at Olivia with a gun against her head.

post-s25/s4

[ladysqueakinpip]

HOLY CRAP

TWEWY AND TMNT???

INSTA FOLLOW

BRUH

WHAT ARE WE

[fearandhatred]

HHJJRVIRVIVELCSLQKDQQDOREHDWVRTFWKWFVKWFVKFWLBEGLBWFLBFWVLGEBKEGBG3O2FBOOGEBORGBOGRBTOEQLDVFQKBT2OBTWOBEGOB2OFBDQKVWFKBGWKVFWKGT2LVLBWFJVDWIDVIVWIVRWVIR2IB2TIB2T9TB3O3OB3TOBR1PV2R9VRWOVQDOBT3OB2TOVDWOBY3OVTWVO

[alterousuggestion]

I'm very new to alterous attraction. It's very hard for me to really... Get a grasp on, honestly? If you could try to explain it would be very appreciated. I hear it spoken about like a truly wonderful thing, but I don't even know what it means besides "the secret third thing" and beyond the platonic/romantic/sexual/aesthetic model I used

hi screaming-cricket !! if i’m being honest, i don’t really know how to explain it either, ahaha. i know that’s not very helpful, but it truly is something that is in a gray zone for myself and a lot of other people (although not all). to me, alterous attraction is something that is very distinctly it’s own thing: it doesn’t feel like something i would typically associate with platonic friendships, but they do not feel inherently romantic either. in fact, calling them romantic or forcing them into the romantic category makes me so uncomfortable. there is overlap though, for example, whenever i experience alterous or platonic attraction, i feel these things in both cases:

wanting to talk/call/video call with them 

looking forward to hang outs

thinking about how we both consider each other a friend is something that makes me happy 

happy after seeing them, sad when they are upset, wanting to see them grow and achieve their dreams and be the best version of themselves 

but there are also noticeable differences:

the level of emotional intimacy i want to achieve with an alterous ‘crush’ is different compared to platonic friendships. i want to know them inside out, and i want them to know me inside out too. i want to be the first person they turn to for support, and i want them to be that for me too. 

calling them my ‘best friend’ is amazing, but it doesn’t seem to fully encompass all i feel for them. calling them my boyfriend/girlfriend/etc., also doesn’t feel accurate, and in a lot of ways, it feels limiting and really uncomfortable. like i do care for them platonically, but that doesn’t feel right, but romantic doesn’t feel right either. 

the level of physical intimacy is also different. i want to be close to them, i imagine taking naps with them. i want to hold their hand. maybe, if i knew they thought about me in the same way, i’d be open to kissing them too. warning for sexual themes in the indented bulletpoints:

when it comes to someone i am alterously attracted to, i am more comfortable with experimentation sexually. that does not mean i am sexually attracted to them (i am also ace), but it’s more like... they make me feel comfortable to try to do those things purely for enjoyment or to feel closer to someone, as long as it’s taken the same way by both parties. 

there is also a desire for a more involved future: i wish they would stay with me in a committed partnership, i want to share a living space with them in the way traditional romantic partners do. i want to share my life in general with them more intimately. 

think of it like... i walk alongside my friends and even though we take different paths, we still converge. for those i am alterously attracted to, i want to do life with them, but hand in hand. i want to go where they go (metaphorically). i want to take those steps with them. now that doesnt mean i want to abandon my own goals, or expect (or want) them to do that for me, but i want the path we take to be closer than others. 

i know that a lot of people might take a look at these things and go ‘i’m okay with doing that with people i am platonically attracted to’ or ‘this is what i want when i am romantically attracted to someone’ and that’s okay !!! relationships are not ‘one size fits all’. all relationships look different. for me, this is as close as i can explain what it feels/means to me. to me, it is something completely outside the platonic/sexual/aesthetic/etc models. alterous is it’s own thing. and it’s confusing to explain but it all boils down to those different feelings. and if you’re wondering whether or not you feel this, i think i would suggest taking a deep breath and maybe even a step back. make a list, if that helps, about what you’d do with a friend vs a romantic partner, and try to make the boundaries as clear as possible. and then think ‘ have i done things that are a mix of both with someone? did our relationship feel different in a way i couldn’t quite pin down? something that is there but also seems not there at the same time?’. if so, you might be dealing with alterous attraction. 

this reply is getting really long, but i guess what i mean to say that it if people are vague about what it feels like, it’s because it is a vague feeling. it’s unique. by listen to your mind and body: does it feel right calling something alterous? does it make you feel happy, and relieved? that’s how i started when i was questioning and then the boundaries and stuff like that became more clear to me after that :3

[doverstar]

hhhhHHHHHH - ELEVENROSE.

[illiana-mystery]

Cal ❤️

[tathrin]

Ehehe, hello, I am here to feed the procrastination gremlin! Those prompts all sound fun, but 21 and 28 are speaking to my heart rn.

Maybe 36 to if you feel up for it but it's your writing and you decide how many you wanna do<3

The procrastination gremlin thanks your mightily! Because I tend to Get Too Long when I write thing, I'm going to preemptively separate these out into their own posts and just assume that I'll ramble too much for it to make sense to do them all in one lmao. Also I will definitely do all three because yes more gimleaf yes. This is an ask meme that I will literally always be accepting prompts for (although if somebody sees this in the tag in like a month or so and wants to send one in, maybe include some context so that I know what that random number I just got in my inbox means? lmao). So, prompt taken from this; anyone can feel free to send other numbers in at any time. Literally.

#21....on a place of insecurity.

Gimli stared at his reflection in the round silver mirror, his hands paused even though his braids were still half-undone. "Do you ever wish that we had crossed the Sea sooner?" he asked.

Legolas blinked at him, cocking his head in that familiar birdlike tilt of confusion that Gimli knew so well.

"Sooner?" Legolas repeated. "How could we have come sooner?" A frown furrowed his smooth, beardless face; a temporary crinkling of skin that would never show the faintest wrinkle. "You mean before Aragorn died?"

"You're right," Gimli sighed. He tugged at his braids, their once-bright copper laced so heavily with strands of silver that he sometimes felt like he had just walked out of a snowfall. "We could not have, of course. But...do you ever wish..."

"Leaving sooner would not have spared us the pain of his death," Legolas said quietly. "It would only have meant that we would not have been there for him when it happened; only have meant that we would not have been there for Arwen or their children either. Knowing of his death only from stories brought by later travelers would not have spared us anything, I do not think; knowing of his death without having been there ourselves would, I think, have only made it hurt the worse, my dear."

"Yes," Gimli said, "yes, of course. I did not mean—"

He stopped. Legolas had walked up behind him and bent down to look over Gimli's shoulder into the mirror. It should have looked awkward, the sight of Legolas's long spine arced at such an angle, but elves were spindly, lithesome creatures. Wood-elves in particular seemed to be as supple and spritely as saplings, and Gimli had yet to witness Legolas contort himself into a position that strained his pliant bones.

"Gimli," Legolas said, "what is wrong?"

"Nothing," Gimli said. He lowered his eyes and his fingers both, twisting his remaining braids into place as quickly as he could without mussing the pattern of the plaits or dropping strands. He scowled, even though he knew that doing so would only deepen the wrinkles that already lined his eyes. "Nothing is wrong."

Long, smooth fingers pressed gently on his own calloused ones until they stilled. Gimli looked down at the overlap of those long digits across his own, the one set brown and spindly as twigs yet unblemished by time or strife; the other pale as underground mushrooms and gnarled by both time and heavy forge-work.

"Gimli," Legolas said. "Tell me."

Gimli turned his hand so that he could enfold those long brown fingers in his own and gave Legolas's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Nothing is wrong, my love," he said again. "I am only feeling melancholy this morning, it seems. Think no more upon it."

He raised the elf's ageless hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to those smooth knuckles, then released it so that he could continue with his braids.

Legolas did not rise. Instead he dropped lower to fold his arms across the back of Gimli's chair, his bright eyes studying the sight of the dwarf before him in the mirror. Gimli avoided his gaze, focusing instead on the intricate plaits that hung from his chin, but he could feel the weight of Legolas's eyes passing over his face, searching for the answers that Gimli would not give him.

He did not find them.

"Will you not tell me?" Legolas asked at last. His voice was soft, his eyes full of sorrow. "Please?"

Gimli sighed and let the braid in his hands droop loose and unfinished down his chest.

He looked up into the mirror again at last and met Legolas's searching, worried eyes there. He looked at that smooth, beardless, beloved face waiting there behind him; unchanging and unchanged from the day they had first met so long ago and far away in Rivendell.

His eyes flicked sideways to his own reflection, to the wrinkles that time had carved beneath his beard; to the strands of silver that wove through the bright copper braids that hung before him. He reached out and pressed his fingers to the mirror, to the sight of the lines around his eyes, and sighed.

"I would not be so old," Gimli said quietly, "if we had come sooner; that is all. I only wonder if you wish, sometimes, that we had. That is all."

Time did not pass in Aman the way it did in other places; or if it did, then it did not feel as though it did, and it carried no trace of decay with it. Gimli had not aged a day since they had first set foot upon these white shores—but he had aged two hundred and sixty-two years before that.

He was still hale and hearty, for dwarves—especially the dwarves of Durin's line—often lived many years longer than that, and rarely weakened before the very ending of their days came upon them. But he was no spritely youngster of sixty-two, either, moping because his father had deemed him too young to go along on a Quest; nor was he a mature youth of not quite one hundred and forty, boldly striding forward at last upon a Quest of his own, all bright brown eyes and ruddy copper beard.

Gimli was old, now, and he looked it. He could see it every morning when he looked in the mirror to do his braids, or every afternoon when he caught sight of his reflection in the cooling barrels at the forge or in some clear, still pool that held Aman's crystal waters. He could see it, and he knew Legolas could as well; how could he not, when he was surrounded by the contrast of all the smooth, beardless, ageless faces of his people?

"Are you tired?" Legolas asked, and his light voice was a dry croak. Shadows as thick as Mordor's fogs filled his eyes, and Gimli turned from the mirror with a cry and caught Legolas's hands with his own.

"No!" he cried. He knew that Legolas was not asking after Gimli's slumber, or weariness from working the forge; was not asking about anything as simple as a day's ordinary exhaustion. He was asking if Gimli was tired of life; if he was tired of eternity. If he was ready, at long last, to claim the gift of his own mortality.

"Legolas, no," Gimli said, squeezing those spindly fingers so tightly that had they been the frail twigs they seemed they would have snapped beneath the pressure of his grip—but elvish flesh was strong, so much stronger than it looked. So were dwarven spirits, and Gimli had no intention of ever growing weary of the world, not so long as Legolas was in it. "I promise," he assured his elf, raising first one hand and then the other to his lips. "Never, Legolas. I am here with you, and I always will be."

Legolas's smile trembled, but it was a smile. Gimli counted it as a victory, and pulled the elf up out of his crouch and into Gimli's lap. He had too much leg to fit on such a short chair, of course, but the two of them were used to that problem; it was no effort at all to fall into the long habits that had his ankles curling sideways under the chair, his elvish flexibility making easy work of the awkward position.

"Then what troubles you?" Legolas asked. He snaked his long arms around Gimli's shoulders and leaned his beardless cheek down to rest upon Gimli's head. "My love, please. Tell me."

"I am old, Legolas," Gimli said. He unwrapped one hand from the elf's slender waist to press his fingers to the cobweb of wrinkles beside his eyes. "You can see it plainly on my face. Old, as no one else in Aman ever will be."

"Bilbo is old," said Legolas.

Gimli rolled his eyes. "Yes, all right," he said. "And Sam, too. But aside from them, everyone else here is an elf—"

"Or a maia," Legolas interrupted. "Or one of the Valar. Or—"

"My point," Gimli cut him off loudly, "is that age is writ across my face in ways that elvish faces do not age. I am only sorry, my dear, that I can do nothing to erase those lines, these streaks of silver; only sorry that you cannot spend eternity beside a dwarf in his prime of life, but must instead contend with these wearisome wrinkles."

Legolas drew away far enough that he could gape down at Gimli. "Wearisome?" he repeated. "Sorry? Gimli!"

"I know, I know," Gimli soothed, "it is a little enough thing, I suppose, and I am not ungrateful; I am only sorry for your sake, my dear—"

"Sorry!" Legolas said again. "Gimli, you everlasting fool of a dwarf! Is this what you've been fretting over all this time?

"...Yes?"

"Gimli!" Legolas squawked. "Oh, my beloved idiot! I feared you were growing tired of forever, and were going to have to leave me! Instead you've just been pouting over how handsome you are?"

"Handsome!" Gimli exclaimed. "Legolas, enough. I am sorry beyond words that I made you worry, but that is no call to mock me—"

"I do not mock," Legolas said. His lilting voice for once was as firm as stones. "I adore every inch of you, Gimli. Yes, even the wrinkles; yes, even the silver in your beard!" He shook his head, scowling down at his dwarf. "Perhaps especially the silver in your beard, for it gleams like mithril in the moonlight, even as the ancient lights of lost Trees are said to still gleam in the locks of the Lady Galadriel, oh Lockbearer!"

Gimli sputtered, heat rising fast in his cheeks. He tried to push the elf away, but Legolas tightened his grip upon his shoulders and refused to be budged from Gimli's knees.

"And your wrinkles," he continued in a softer voice, "are the signs that our years together have etched upon your face, even as your clever hands carve beauty into simple metal and plain rocks. How could I help but love them, when they trace our story out upon your face for all to see?" Legolas leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the sparkle of crows-feet that framed first one eye and then the other, then traced the deep tracks that lines Gimli's mouth and nose beneath his beard. Finally he raised Gimli's hand and pressed a long kiss to those ruddy, wrinkled fingers.

"Legolas, I...I feel I've been a fool," Gimli murmured. He found himself once again unable to meet Legolas's eyes, this time because of the blush that darkened his cheeks with a blaze of hot mortification.

"You have been," Legolas agreed, "but fortunately I knew you for a fool long before I knew you for anything else, my love, and so I am not bothered overmuch."

A watery laugh spilled from Gimli's lips, and he could not help but smile. "And you are as irritating and irreverent as ever," he retorted.

"Of course I am," Legolas agreed, and hopped up off Gimli's lap and the low chair upon which he sat and grinned down at his dwarf with a twinkling smile. "Some things do not change with the passage of time—but even though my face does not show it, I have very much been changed by knowing you, my dear Gimli, and I would not trade a second of it in exchange for a single lifted wrinkle or silvered hair."

"Well," Gimli said, "I am glad to hear it, and sorry now that I did not voice my concerns sooner."

"So am I!" said Legolas. "But I cannot hold it against you when I did not voice mine either, although in my case it was because I feared to pressure you into extending your time in life beyond your own comfort for my sake alone."

Gimli stood and took his elf's hands in his and held them tight. "Forever is only barely enough time to spend at your side, Legolas," he said, "but as it is all the time the world will give us, I will take it; but I will accept not a second less than that, and would not see that time shortened for any reason even if it was only for your own comfort, and not my own. I can think of no greater purpose for one's life than to bring comfort to one whom I so love."

Legolas beamed down at him, his pale eyes bright with unshed tears. "Well!" he said. "That is all sorted, then!"

"Indeed it is," Gimli agreed. He knew that the smile spreading behind his beard was the sort of soft, misty-eyed grin that Peregrin Took had always labeled "absurdly sappy," but he could not help himself; he felt as though he was fairly brimming-over with love, and he could not contain himself from letting it show upon his face, erstwhile sappiness be damned.

"In that case," Legolas said, his damp gaze dancing suddenly with dry mischief, "let me get you out of that tunic and into our bed and I will find all your other wrinkles and properly express my love for them, too."

Gimli decided he could finish his braids later.