neato i get a lil friend

you’re stuck living with your icon for a month have fun

Robin Buckley singing Good Luck Babe by Chapell Roan as frontwoman of a band to try to woo her love interest of choice who is a victim of comphet. Could be Vickie. Could be Chrissie. Could be Nancy. Could be anyone.

the fact that we need 8 hours of sleep is ridiculous we should only need 4 and the other 4 should be used to be cozy in your bed and rub your legs together like a cricket and listen to music and think about your little scenarios

I can see Eddie getting really into one of those dinner murder mystery parties for Hellfire and not expecting Steve and Robin to be into it, only to find out that they both *committed.*

Like they've got outfits and fake accents and everything, and Eddie's delighted, but also they're outshining him.

Bonus: halfway through the night they swap characters, outfits and all, so Steve's in a swanky dress with pearls and Robin's in a tux.

They do not acknowledge that they swapped and absolutely refuse to break character, and it is 300% not a plot to hit on their respective crushes no matter what Dustin says.

(Max repeatedly calls out that they brought two outfits bc theres no way Robin fit into Steve's tux.

She is ignored , on grounds that Steve's dress is showing a heck of a lot of thigh and it being Robin's dress is 100% his excuse for it)

So I just saw a post by a random personal blog that said “don’t follow me if we never even had a conversation before” and?????? Not to be rude but literally what the fuck??????????

I’ve had people (non-pornbots) try to strike conversation out of nowhere in my DMs recently, and now I’m wondering if they were doing that because they wanted to follow me and thought they needed to interact first. I feel compelled to say, just in case, that it’s totally okay to follow this blog (or my side blog, for that matter) even if we’ve never talked before.

Also, I’m legit confused. Is this how follow culture works right now? It was worded like it’s common sense but is that really a thing?

Reblog to let your followers know that despite your current obsession your previous obsessions still exist and are simply lying dormant until they awaken and strike again

Which path should he choose?

The path of the warrior, the path of the scholar, or the path of the artist?

you, reading this. you're a creature now. reblog to creature your followers

peter and wade are fighting side by side and when peter runs out of web fluid, he grabs a gun off wade’s belt and wade has this transcendent moment of i’m going to watch spiderman shoot my gun at a real live bad guy

but peter just fucking throws it at a bad guy’s face and knocks him out cold

@ fic authors what do you personally consider a successful fic? What’s the bar?

Steve is familiar with loneliness. It's a constant companion, steady, reliable, someone who will stay forever. Unlike the array of various alien species that have temporarily found a home in the belly of his tardis. She is the only other companion who has stuck around since the beginning, she too will be there forever. For once Steve had foolishly thought that maybe it didn't have to just be the three of them. That maybe loneliness could shrink or the tardis expand to make room for Eddie. Because Eddie had said forever and Steve had believed him. He should have known better, after millennia of goodbyes and endings, of heartbreak and tears Steve really should have known better. But he had been so smitten, both his hearts overflowing with so much love for Eddie it wouldn't have surprised Steve if he had grown a third one.

Now one heart has stopped beating altogether, the other one tries to conjure a pathetic dumdum, dumdum, dumdum. It is so weak and yet so loud in the empty white room. Loneliness intertwines their fingers and kisses the back of his hand, it's just them again. Steve looks at her and sees a stranger. This is not the loneliness he knows, the one he is used to. This is absence, this is loss, this is heartache, this is grief. He grieves Eddie, his heart has stopped beating and it feels like he has lost a limb, like his ribcage has been cracked open and a vertebra has been torn out. The air has been sucked out of his lungs and the marrow out of his bones and the joy out of his soul. Steve has become hollow, in danger of collapsing in on himself.

He lets go of loneliness' fingers, she continues to cling to him like a shadow. He lifts his hand and places it on the white wall that's in front of him, sturdy, cold, unmovable. For a moment it feels like there is another palm pressed against the other side of the wall, aching to touch his, to slip their fingers together, always holding hands like they used to. For a moment Steve presses his ear against the wall and he could swear he is hearing sobs. Pleading to be taken back dripping with anguish and desperation. Of course, he is only imagining it. There is nothing on the other side of that wall. Just air.

The rift to the mirror dimension, to the parallel universe, the world where left is right and right is left and up is down and down is up, is gone. And with it so is Eddie Munson. Brave, beautiful, stubborn Eddie Munson. Who promised Steve forever. Who made Steve want to get a mortgage and grow grey hair and trade the vastness of all of time and space for the cozy comfort of Sunday morning spent doing crossword puzzles in bed. Who almost died to save this world that hasn't been always kind to him.

It at first had all gone to plan. They had torn open the rift so that the evil aliens threatening to kill all of humanity would get sucked inside and dissolve into nothingness. Eddie and Steve had clung onto their gravity locks, safe from the pull. Only that the leaver on Eddie's side of the room responsible for keeping the rift open had suddenly turned and shut off. And Eddie, brave, beautiful, stubborn Eddie had let go of the gravity lock and pulled the lever back up. Steve had been unable to do anything, had only been able to watch as the pull grew stronger again, as Eddie's fingers one by one slipped from the leaver, as his body got lifted into the air, as the love of Steve's countless lives flew towards the rift that would kill him just like it would kill all the evil aliens. That pain Steve had been spared because in the last possible second Wayne, Eddie's uncle from the mirror world had teleported into this one, grabbed Eddie and brought him back into the mirror world.

That's where he is now. Sobbing and screaming, banging his fists against a cold, sturdy, unmoving white wall behind which is nothing but air. The rift is closed, no more travel between dimensions is possible. The world turns, Eddie lives, Steve is alone. In a few hours, Steve will burn a sun to say goodbye to Eddie. They can't touch and Steve would extinguish every single star in the galaxy if it allowed him to him to wipe away Eddie's tears, to hold his hand like they always used to, to pull Eddie into one good last honest kiss after Eddie says, "I love you." But he can't. He has already been given eternity, he can't be given happiness on top it too. All of space and time to his feet and he can't even be given enough time to tell Eddie, "I love you too."

The day of return

In fact, this is my first art about merlin (forgot to post on tumblr!). I finished it at new year's midnight, waited for the dawn.

When I drew this, I was listened to the song call "With What Do I Hold You Back 我用什么把你留住". The lyrics are very touching:

"Would you watch the swallows come home?

If none of them will return

Then for whom should I stay alive?"

"You must wait for the swallows to come home

Believing they will all return

You pledge your life to live for such as these."

Modern au where Merlin has been persisting miserably for centuries all alone. He's done things, for sure. He's had many professions, met many people, but everything ends, and everyone dies.

He's sitting in a local pub on an unremarkable day in the 21st century, drinking alone. It's karaoke night, contrary to Merlin's mood, and there's several groups of students there, goading each other into getting up on stage.

Merlin isn't paying very much attention. He listens half-heartedly as the talented and the tone deaf, the shy and the bold, sing their hearts out to pop and rock classics.

He's staring into the bottom of his empty glass, feeling his age deep in his soul, when he hears the next kid who lost a bet singing the opening lines to Cutting Crew's I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight.

Merlin knows that voice.

He's been missing it for so long. He forgot what it sounded like, but he would recognise it anywhere. It's a little flat, very clearly not taking it too seriously, hamming it up for all it's worth for his mates.

By some cruel twist of fate, in a run down pub, in a run down town, centuries after his death, Arthur Pendragon is singing to him.

didn’t know that arthur wrote merlin a song, what a banger

“there is no straight explanation for this” neither is there a gay one. there is however an aromantic one

and you know, if you REALLY want to have a rough night, all you have to do is think about how arthur loves. how uther treated him all his life, loving only just enough for him to feel safe, just enough to be protected and not warm. how arthur grew up knowing that, and only that, how it is perfectly clear in the way he treats merlin, because he'll shove him around, yell, and be loud in his words as in his actions, but god will he also go above and beyond to keep him safe, will even lie to uther himself to protect merlin. and truly, that's where his heart really bleeds through, in the veil between how he was taught to love and how he really wants to love, in the moment between, where he's allowed to show he cares, where keeping merlin safe from anyone but him is soaked red with affection, because that's what love is, right?