#*and scene*

[w1ld-wr1t3r]

I'm not even 15 minutes into rewatching Interstellar and I think there is a chance my imagination is running wild again . . .

I have at least half a loose fic plot already hELP.

[easypeasylindyvesey]

is the ‘tremendous amount of confidence in jimmy’ in the room with us???

[echo-goes-mmm]

Divine Intervention AU #2

Masterpost

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Warnings: implied past starvation

The masters rode at a walk, and Plaything was grateful for the pace. He could keep up well enough, but as the morning turned to afternoon his feet became sore. He had no shoes, not even footwraps, and the stone streets were not forgiving. 

They moved gradually out of the city, into the fields. The masters chatted with each other, and Plaything could pick out a few words he recognized. Maybe their home was close by? Plaything had seen maps before, but couldn’t read the words. He only knew the sea was to the east, and that his old master lived far from it.

They were headed west, judging by the sun. 

They were taking him out of the country.

By sundown, they were well past the fields and had entered the woods. The masters turned off to the side of the road, to a well worn campsite. They tied their horses to a weathered post and they began to graze. Plaything sat down heavily and examined his feet. They were raw, small cuts littering the tops, and they felt so so sore.

The weather was cooling now, and one of his masters started a fire in the crumbling stone circle. The other began to unload the horses. He grabbed what must be their bedrolls and three sizable satchels. He sat them near the fire, and came back over, towards Plaything. 

He looked him up and down. The master tutted at the state of his feet, and reached down to untie him.

He led him closer towards the fire, the warmth finally reaching Plaything’s skin. 

“Sit.”

He sat.

The master called to the other, and they spoke for a minute. One of them pulled some cloth and a knife from his bag. Plaything was handed one of the satchels and a flask. 

“Eat.”

Plaything peered into the bag. It held several apples, a smaller bag of jerky, and a whole small loaf of bread. The flask had water.

“You will carry these until we reach home.”

Plaything was no stranger to stretching out food.

“Yes, master.”

The man's lips stretched into a thin line. What did he do wrong? 

“No,” he said. “We bought you for someone else. Do not call us ‘Master’ again.”

Cryptic and weird and bad.

“Yes, sir.”

Plaything began to eat an apple. He watched as the men continued to set up for the night. 

One of the handed Plaything some strips of fabric and a blanket.

“Wrap your feet.” Thank the gods. 

The men cooked and ate their dinner, which looked much more interesting than Plaything’s. They tied his ankles together and one wrist to a nearby post, with enough length to lie down and stay warm.

The men fell asleep quickly, but Plaything’s mind kept him awake.

Who did they buy him for?

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight

[fl3a-bag]

It’s their greatest invention as of yet

[swedenis-h]

Wife lovers till they die

[jordanbolton]

To The Person Who Was Sitting Near Me On The Train - Jordan Bolton

My first book ‘Blue Sky Through the Window of a Moving Car’ is out Nov 7th and is available to pre-order here - https://smarturl.it/BlueSky

[everoutoftouch]

If you have Spotify reblog this and tag what your number one song on your “on repeat” playlist is.

[aquilaofarkham]

every autistic person watching this episode of dungeon meshi:

[personnotfound]

i hope whoever actually shot that CEO is having a good day.

[hansoeii]

only you.

[so-many-ocs]

[on the verge of having a complete breakdown] i need to make some kind of list or perhaps sort things into categories

[prompt-heaven]

a list of 100+ buildings to put in your fantasy town

academy

adventurer's guild

alchemist

apiary

apothecary

aquarium

armory

art gallery

bakery

bank

barber

barracks

bathhouse

blacksmith

boathouse

book store

bookbinder

botanical garden

brothel

butcher

carpenter

cartographer

casino

castle

cobbler

coffee shop

council chamber

court house

crypt for the noble family

dentist

distillery

docks

dovecot

dyer

embassy

farmer's market

fighting pit

fishmonger

fortune teller

gallows

gatehouse

general store

graveyard

greenhouses

guard post

guildhall

gymnasium

haberdashery

haunted house

hedge maze

herbalist

hospice

hospital

house for sale

inn

jail

jeweller

kindergarten

leatherworker

library

locksmith

mail courier

manor house

market

mayor's house

monastery

morgue

museum

music shop

observatory

orchard

orphanage

outhouse

paper maker

pawnshop

pet shop

potion shop

potter

printmaker

quest board

residence

restricted zone

sawmill

school

scribe

sewer entrance

sheriff's office

shrine

silversmith

spa

speakeasy

spice merchant

sports stadium

stables

street market

tailor

tannery

tavern

tax collector

tea house

temple

textile shop

theatre

thieves guild

thrift store

tinker's workshop

town crier post

town square

townhall

toy store

trinket shop

warehouse

watchtower

water mill

weaver

well

windmill

wishing well

wizard tower

[frownyalfred]

Tips for writing those gala scenes, from someone who goes to them occasionally:

Generally you unbutton and re-button a suit coat when you sit down and stand up.

You’re supposed to hold wine or champagne glasses by the stem to avoid warming up the liquid inside. A character out of their depth might hold the glass around the sides instead.

When rich/important people forget your name and they’re drunk, they usually just tell you that they don’t remember or completely skip over any opportunity to use your name so they don’t look silly.

A good way to indicate you don’t want to shake someone’s hand at an event is to hold a drink in your right hand (and if you’re a woman, a purse in the other so you definitely can’t shift the glass to another hand and then shake)

Americans who still kiss cheeks as a welcome generally don’t press lips to cheeks, it’s more of a touch of cheek to cheek or even a hover (these days, mostly to avoid smudging a woman’s makeup)

The distinctions between dress codes (black tie, cocktail, etc) are very intricate but obvious to those who know how to look. If you wear a short skirt to a black tie event for example, people would clock that instantly even if the dress itself was very formal. Same thing goes for certain articles of men’s clothing.

Open bars / cash bars at events usually carry limited options. They’re meant to serve lots of people very quickly, so nobody is getting a cosmo or a Manhattan etc.

Members of the press generally aren’t allowed to freely circulate at nicer galas/events without a very good reason. When they do, they need to identify themselves before talking with someone.

[pencildragons]

bro i LOVE indigenous fusion music i love it when indigenous people take traditional practices and language and apply them in new cool ways i love the slow decay and decolonisation of the modern music industry

[kuuwo]

"You were never broken Viktor, there is beauty in imperfections. They made you who you are."😔😔😔