:)

Like the majority of society I’m obsessed with Nimona

And I rewatched it a million times and one thing always sticks out to me 

There are moments when Ambrosius is surrounded by light like a little protective bubble 

That keeps him away from the man he loves more than anything 

Just some 📻 🍎 doodles

Sorry, I haven’t done my work, yeah, I’m in spoon jail. Yeah, I was in really bad spoon debt, and I stopped paying my spoon taxes. Yeah, I can’t do anything until I gather enough spoons to pay my spoon bail.

anthony is dead: the funeral roast (paid content)

coming out as a "Will snores obnoxiously loud" and "Nico breaths so quietly you can barely tell hes alive" truther

on to the next gift wip

Steve tries to stay quiet while he gets ready for work, but Eddie hears him. He keeps his eyes closed and just listens- to Steve grumbling to himself when his hair doesn’t sit quite right, who starts to hum and whisper some catchy song. Eddie turns his sleepy gaze onto Steve as he shuffles around their room- watching quietly as he slips on his clothes, his shoes, a simple chain with Eddie’s ring around his neck. A warm, affectionate smile breaks across his face. Before he leaves, Steve glances at what he expects to be a sleeping Eddie, but instead, he’s met with a rasped, ‘Hey.’ Eddie sits himself up, stretches his arm across Steve’s side of the bed, and reaches, fingers wiggling. Steve crosses the room to cradle his face.

Their foreheads press, noses bump, and Steve brushes his fingers across scars and dimples.

He breathes a quiet,

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.’

Eddie huffs a tired laugh,

‘You know I never mind.’

Because, yeah.

Every morning Steve tries to stay quiet while he gets ready for work, but Eddie always hears him.

( another one from the poll | WIP )

💭 soulmate au, where your dreams are filled with whatever your soulmate has done that previous day…

simon riley, sits and wonders why he’s never had any true nightmares, even with all of the violence and turmoil he’s faced and remains experiencing. he’s never once woken up, questioning his sanity. instead, his nights are often filled with peace and tranquillity, reading books perched on a porch swing or lay beside the sea. watching blurred out figures, run around and fill his absent ears with echoes of laughter, not knowing who they could be, but knowing for certain it overflows his chest with warmth. nothing ever scarier or more worrying than a minor crash of a car, or the gutting feeling of heartbreak from a faceless stranger, fills his dreams.

but then you, frightful when the night comes around. terrified of the urge to close your eyes. the countless therapy sessions, meetings with psychologists and somnologists, an aid to try and fix the terrors that haunt you as you sleep. the ones that randomly came one night when you were young, and never left. images of places that can only resemble war zones, tragic catastrophes that force you awake with beads of sweat on your forehead. but, there are the rare ones, where your dreams are filled with the restful nothingness. the nights where you’re able to sleep through, your mind taking you to a dimly lit room, lay within a spacious comfy bed and the overwhelming feeling of safety. but that one is a temporary haven, for the both of you.

2 ibuprofen and dick from that old man would fix me

last minute predictions literally right before the special airs

finally at that age where i'm thinking i should get a tattoo. not bc i feel strongly about it, just seems like a waste not to. i've got so much skin i'm not using

Thinking about how Nightmare has 4 mortals and 3 of them are so so bad at taking care of themselves