#this is... something

[levamplestat]

This is what dreams are made of This is what they're afraid of A rhyme with no reason When they finally reach you You will have seen through That dark is the season

GHOST - PEACEFIELD

[cecoeur]

Daniel Ricciardo Speaks to Guests at the Ford Raptor Rally | 10.25.25

[nebulastars]

Dare (1298 words) Fill for my @merlinbingo square T2 - Friends to lovers

Merlin flashed Arthur that familiar dangerous look, the one that told him he would not back down from the challenge—which this time felt very different to leading a rally or chaining himself to a tree in protest—and moved closer, crowding into Arthur's space. Waiting for Arthur's reply, Merlin raised his brows, fingers gripping tightly onto Arthur's shirt.

A dare. A stupid fucking dare.

Arthur was going to be sick. Blood coursed so quickly through his veins he felt lightheaded, and his palm, looking for somewhere to steady him, landed on Merlin's chest. It pushed back against his hand, startled, and slowly deflated. Arthur could feel the heart pounding under it. Hot breath ghosted Arthur's lips and he swallowed, moving his gaze up towards the storm brewing in Merlin's eyes that seemed more black than blue in the darkened space.

Arthur nodded.

"Start the timer," Merlin called out and leaned in with no other warning, licking Arthur's bottom lip until he opened up. The hum of the bass moved steadily under their soles, bright lights beating down on them in time with the music blasting through speakers at all corners of the room. In between, the darkness hid them from their friends' excited hollering, swallowing them into a place of intimacy that was just theirs. When the timer blared and Merlin moved away, laughing, casting a quick glance back as he accepted a pint glass from Gwaine, Arthur longed to go back there, into the darkness, where Merlin had, for those few seconds, just been his.

--

"So," Merlin said, leaning casually against the wall. "You've been avoiding me."

Arthur, who had spent the week purposely letting his phone die and then purposely made sure it stayed dead, looked at Merlin like he was crazy and pulled his keys out of his pocket. "No, I haven't."

"Right," Merlin said and followed him into Arthur's flat after Arthur unlocked the door. "And I'm the King of England."

He walked straight over to the hallway table, where the charger was lying unplugged next to an unresponsive phone. Merlin lifted it up and raised an eyebrow.

"An honest mistake," Arthur said, rubbing at his neck. He hung his jacket on the hook, feeling like a cowering animal trapped between the door, which would take him away from the uncomfortable conversation he knew Merlin would force upon him—in which Merlin would let him know that even though every single person in the world seemed to be his type, Arthur simply wasn't, and now Arthur, by being extremely weird about a kiss that meant nothing, had ruined their friendship—and his living room, where the uncomfortable conversation would most likely take place, and Arthur's heart would be taking a beating he might never recover from.

Against his better judgement, Arthur stayed.

Merlin sighed, crossing his arms. Now that Arthur could see him better under the bright lights, he looked more tired than usual. Face pale, dark bags under the eyes, a hint of a stubble on his chin. "Look," Merlin said, running a hand through his dark hair. "I don't want things to be awkward between us. You don't have to worry; just because I'm bi, it doesn't mean I'm going to, like, throw myself at you. It was just a drunken kiss. For a dare. You're not any less straight because you kissed a man."

Arthur heard the words and felt them land in his chest, tearing the first piece off his heart. Momentarily, his vision blurred and he felt like he was going to be sick again; a feeling that had stayed with him ever since the weekend, only letting him go when he was asleep.

"Of course," he said and walked somewhat steadily over to the sofa to have a seat.

"Arthur."

"It's fine."

Arthur hid his face in his palms.

"It's clearly not." Weight shifted on the sofa and Arthur held his breath as warm, hesitant fingers landed on his shoulder. "What's going on?"

Arthur looked to the side, saw Merlin's lips only a breath away, and sought out his palms again. All week he had thought of those lips—pressed against his own, sliding over his skin, hovering lightly over rising flesh, teasing—and now that Arthur was reminded of it, his stomach twisted again. Arthur swallowed and steadied himself with a breath.

The intensity of Merlin's piercing eyes was adding weight to Arthur's already heavy shoulders and he reached out for the remote, turning on the telly. The warmth of Merlin's hand went away. Arthur zapped through a few channels, listening to Merlin's breathing, trying to gauge what it meant that it didn't seem to be laboured. He turned the telly off and rubbed at his neck.

"What are you worried about?" Merlin said, voice growing a little defensive. "Do you think I'm all of a sudden going to feel you up? Like twelve years of friendship means nothing to me now that I've had the honour of having your slobbering mouth on mine?"

Arthur's head whipped around. "I wasn't slobbering."

Merlin snorted.

"I wasn't slobbering. If anything, you were! Barely able to stand up straight."

"Unbelievable." Merlin threw his hands up, demonstratively moving away. "Can't you be serious for just one second? It was just a stupid, drunken kiss. It's not that serious. I kiss people all the time. And it didn't exactly blow my mind."

Arthur, who had been preparing to yell back, opened his mouth and then closed it, scratching absentmindedly under his chin. "It didn't?"

Merlin blinked. "What do you mean? Should it have?"

Clearing his throat, Arthur shifted on the sofa. His cheeks were growing hot. "No."

"Wait." Merlin sat up straight, eyes growing larger. "No. What? No. Really? Are you pulling my leg right now?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Arthur glanced down at his hands.

"Arthur, it is really important that you use your words right now, okay? I know you have it in you, if you just dig deep enough."

"Piss off."

"Arthur." Merlin seated himself cross-legged with his body facing Arthur's side, resting his hand on the crook of Arthur's elbow. Arthur tensed, turning his head. The searching look on Merlin's face was giving the impression that he was trying really hard to read his thoughts. Arthur's mouth felt dry.

"Arthur," Merlin repeated. "Did you want the kiss to blow my mind?"

He snorted, pulse hammering in his ears. "No. Obviously not."

"Arthur."

He ran his palms over his thighs, buying himself some time. Heading for the door still seemed like an option, although now he would be running from a very different kind of conversation, one which seemed, somehow, even more difficult to get through. Having his heart stomped over was familiar. This, however, was new. Arthur closed his eyes. "Maybe."

"God." Merlin groaned and laughed incredulously. "We are so fucking stupid."

Arthur turned around, hesitantly moving his hand on top of Merlin's, keeping it pressed against his arm. "Yeah?"

"Yes, you fucking tit. You have been looking like this for the entirety of our friendship, which is hard to pretend not to notice. Your personality is unfortunate but apparently my brain just decided to look past that."

Arthur gave Merlin a shove, fighting a smile. Merlin shoved back, hard, pushing him down into the cushions and settled into Arthur's lap, hands braced on either side of his head. "Hi."

Arthur swallowed, reaching out to wrap his fingers around Merlin's upper arms, which had grown stronger and bigger since he joined Arthur's gym and which he had touched once, briefly, on accident, and now moved his hands over hungrily.

"What are you waiting for?" Merlin asked, a bright glint in his eyes. "A dare?"

"Piss off," Arthur said and yanked Merlin down towards him.

[slipfessions]

I love how unhinged Mudzlide iz. Firzt off- THE GUYZ ARE WATCHING SCAT PORN. And it'z to fuck with Chriz, who'z apparently throwing up or zomething. Everyone findz the porno funny inztead of arouzing, bazed on commentz made. And zomeone'z playing acouztic guitar? Out of nowhere? It makez the whole zituation zeem either more welcoming or juzt very very ztrange. I can't decide. It'z very funny to me that they included that in the CD.

🐐

[sergeant-cell]

Whats the plot of dreamplates 👀

it’s… and you won’t believe this…

the story of handplates… but with Dream and Nightmare… instead of sans and Papyrus…

But, in all seriousness it’s a lot—I do mean a lot. What I will give you will already be fairly long to type out on its own, (+it’s still being ironed out)

That, and a lot of it will be spoilers for the comic I’m planning on making during the summer. (it will be its own comic, along with the rest of repliverse ,yes I did finally find a fitting name for the verse.)

I’ll try to give you some barebones info for Dreamplates itself without spoiling too many major plot points though. So likely just the beginning and set up,.

You can probably guess a few things about it if you’ve read the actual Handplates comic (I do recommend) But here’s what I’ve got so far thats not major spoilers ( under cut)

Do keep and mind that a lot of the names of characters may change, and that I’ll try specify as best I can later on.

Also, forgive me for the egregious amount of run on sentences that are likely going to be present here.

This version of Dreamtale does take place in a version of the surface before the monsters and humans had actually started fighting

(for the most part, there is some tension going on but no outright war yet).

Nim had relocated the tree to a smaller village about 4-5 days out from the main kingdom, much like the original story. She had been weakened to the point of being unable to make replacement guardians herself. The tree had also been damaged, but not to the extent she had been. So—in a last ditch effort to preserve the tree—she joined with it, allowing it to live but going into an almost sleep like state. (note, her life is what keeps the tree alive. So, If she were to fully die, so would the tree, but not the other way around, if that makes sense.) Basically, she cannot use her magic or separate herself from the tree. She can’t do anything except (maybe) communicate in one way to another. She will not be able to ever again, her decision was irreversible.

After a while the village slowly got bigger, and years after her sacrifice, the tree had grown to be a sort of mythological being to the villagers. A small religion formed centred around the tree. This naturally garnered more and more attention towards it. Eventually, this catches the eye of (let’s just say a Gaster variant, Ive been using the placeholder ‘Aster’ —very original). He, as the royal scientist, wanted to study the tree. He relocated himself in the village, and upon earning the villager’s trust (and possibly joining a religion for the sole purpose of research) was allowed to study the tree. Slowly he realizes that the tree does in fact have magic, powerful magic at that. Upon taking some of the magic from the tree (for research of course) Nim perceives Aster as a threat and tries to get him to leave to the best of her abilities (which wasn’t much more than giving him vivid visions.) Aster, surprised but undeterred, tries to get her to communicate with him again after realizing something (or someone) was in fact apart of this tree.

Eventually, Aster learns —though a series of odd hallucinations.. ( visions? Projections of memories and feelings? ) — that the tree would die if she couldn’t create guardians for the tree (which, by now, had already begun to show signs of slight decay much to the dismay of the villagers.)

Aster sits on this information, deciding to further study the magic he’d taken from the tree. Not long after, he is sent a letter by the King (is it Asgore? I haven’t decided.) This letter and its contents (which are not being told just yet) are just one of many sent over a short period of time. Each one pushes him closer to the conclusion he’d already come to in the back of his mind.

He’d find a use for this tree. One way or another.

I am now realizing..

This is more of an abridged/simplified prologue.

Which does work, honestly.

You can ..probably (maybe?) see where this is going.

I hope this answered your question at least a bit, anon.

[omgmybouquetballoonworld]

Ok so I have a request that I have a rough idea for but idk if you would like to write it and if it would seem pushy or rude if I also asked to go as dark as you could or would want to go.

The request

Reader is in a political arranged marriage with Shu who on paper seems to be the “perfect” match she is vampire from a old family line, well educated, has good manners, lady like but reader in reality is like a nerd, a BL writer and drawer she know her worth a real modern woman and wants out desperately. She knows how the family is like and has managed to hold back from decking several time the boys. One day she just snaps and by a miracle does not kill them but flees taking the current bride with her before dumping her in a random place. Because who in the world would care if she disappeared especially when the bride goes missing?

It's an interesting concept, I did what I could and I hope you like :)

As a postscript, I'll edit it later to finish the story

Centuries have passed since my eyes first opened to eternity. I have witnessed the rise and fall of empires, studied extinct philosophies, and experienced cultures that today are nothing but dust in history books. In this world that boasts of its openness, I have committed the greatest sin for my race: empathizing with humans. While my peers view them as cattle or mere vessels of blood, I admire their fickle fragility and their capacity to create beauty in the midst of their short existence.It was that fascination that dragged me into the underworld of Boys' Love. Under a pseudonym shrouded in shadows and anonymity, I unleash a passion that my status as a noble would never forgive.

My hand, which should hold only scepters and crystal goblets, is stained with ink drawing stories that defy the decorum of my lineage.But freedom is a mirage when you carry a heavy surname.

My family not only wields absolute power in the realm of shadows, but has also sunk its claws into the politics and finance of the mortal world. We are a tiny elite, a club of monsters in tuxedos where only the Sakamakis dare to look us in the eye. Therefore, after centuries of frigid negotiations, my fate was sealed: I will become the wife of Shu, the eldest son of Karlheinz.Shu, the indolent heir.

A man whose beauty is matched only by his apathy. I knew the rumors: the scandal of his exile due to academic negligence, his disdain for responsibilities, and that deathly silence that envelops him.

The son of the Vampire King, sent into ostracism for a school year... a delicious irony.

The wedding was a display of loud, decadent opulence.

Shu stood there like an exquisite corpse, his body language screaming a fervent desire to be anywhere but by my side. But his disdain did not hurt me; on the contrary, I found it useful.

What truly captured my attention was not my husband, but the pack that surrounded him. The Sakamaki brothers. Each of them possessed a spectacular physique, an anatomical perfection that bordered on the divine and the grotesque. They did not awaken a desire for carnal lust in me, but they did feed my twisted writer’s mind.Observing them, I didn't see brothers-in-law. I saw archetypes. I

saw the perfect muscular tension for a scene of submission, the ideal sadistic gaze for an antagonist, and the potential for a tragedy written in blood. They are living canvases for my darkest and most forbidden fantasies.

Now, trapped in this luxury mausoleum they call home, they watch me like an elegant intruder. They don't know that while they play at being predators, I have already dissected them in my mind, turning their arrogance into the ink of my next script. Let them keep underestimating the "perfect wife"; they have no idea that the darkness I wield is much deeper than simple fangs.---

Months had passed since the cold platinum ring encircled my finger, and my husband, true to his reputation as a living specter, had not deigned to touch me.

To Shu, I was nothing more than an annoying presence occupying the same air; to me, he was a static model, a visual reference of the indolence that rarely emerged from its lethargy.

My true interest, however, filtered through the cracks of doors and dark hallways, observing the anatomy of his brothers with the precision of a surgeon and the voracity of an artist.I was almost discovered. Imprudence is a luxury we immortals cannot always afford.

"Mmmm… Despite being my brother's fiancée, you spend your time devouring other men with your eyes. That’s quite slutty, don’t you think?" Laito’s voice, thick with poisonous molasses, slid down the back of my neck.

That pervert, who found pleasure in the breaking of poor sacrificial brides, watched me with narrowed eyes from beneath the brim of his hat.

"That is none of your concern, Laito."

"Ow~ of course it is! Especially when you are so focused on me and my brothers. Though… if I were you, I’d have an affair with Reiji. It’s much more fun when the blood ties are so direct."

He let out a shrill laugh that echoed in the empty hallway.

"Don't be pathetic. Actions of that sort would only stain my family's prestige."

"Think what you want, little slut. But I think you’d get along quite well with him. You’re the same species of... hypocrites."

I walked away from him, but his words, though steeped in malice, planted a seed. Reiji was the guardian of etiquette, the man who boasted of his intellect and vast knowledge. A technical talk could be the perfect refuge to hide my true intentions as a writer under the veil of academic curiosity.I walked toward his study.

The scent of incense and old paper greeted me before he even looked up from his flasks.

"You, here?" His voice was a silken whip.

"Is something wrong? I simply wanted to get to know my brother-in-law a little better," I said, adopting my mask of the perfect aristocrat.

"Ha! If that’s the case, come in. Sit, I’ll prepare some tea for you."I observed his precise movements as he poured the amber liquid. Reiji was the personification of order, a fascinating contrast to the chaos I secretly drew.

"I’ve heard your marriage is quite... simple," he said, placing the cup in front of me with mechanical elegance.

"Are you truly happy with that lack of substance?"

"Of course. You, better than anyone, know that appearances and political ties are the only things with real weight. Love is a thing as banal as a human's sigh before they die."

Reiji let out a frigid smile, one that didn't reach his eyes but exuded an intellectual superiority that I found intoxicating for my next plot."Well… so the 'perfect lady' has ice thorns. I wonder how long it will take for that ice to break under the right pressure."

Reiji settled into his armchair, crossing his legs with studied deliberation.

The steam from the tea rose between us like a silk curtain. His eyes, sharp behind his glasses, swept over me—not with Laito’s crude desire, but with the ambition of a collector who has found a rare piece

."It is refreshing to find someone who understands the architecture of duty," he murmured, his voice dropping to a more intimate, almost magnetic tone.

"However, an empty marriage is a waste of potential. Shu is a vessel without content, a score without notes."

He leaned forward, invading the personal space that in our class is considered sacred. He set his cup on the table with a metallic click, a sound that punctuated the silence of the room.

"If what you seek is a union of knowledge, someone who appreciates the true darkness you hide behind those impeccable manners..." Reiji left the sentence hanging, offering me his hand.

"I could offer you the stimulation my brother is incapable of giving you. Not just in knowledge, but in... depth."

It was an implicit offer. A betrayal wrapped in porcelain. Reiji was convinced that his sophistication would be enough to break me.

To me, it was a cliché scene I had already written and read more than a thousand times.I did not take his hand; instead, I stood up, adjusting my dress with a slowness that bordered on an insult.

"Reiji, you are even more predictable than I imagined," I said, looking down at him, allowing my contempt to leak through my mask.

"You boast of being different from your brothers, of being the 'order' in this chaos, but in the end, you seek the same thing: Shu’s leftovers to feed your own wounded ego."

His face tensed, a small crack appearing in his marble composure.

"Leftovers? I am offering you an alliance,"

he hissed, his voice losing its feigned warmth.

"You seek to validate yourself through my status because you have always felt like the second best. How disappointing."I left the study without looking back, leaving Reiji with his cooling tea and his bleeding pride. As I walked down the hall, an idea crossed my mind: the scene had been perfect for chapter ten of my novel.

I just needed a more dramatic ending.And the drama would arrive soon, for as I turned the corner, I saw the new sacrificial bride sobbing near the fountain.

The spark of the snapped—of the total break—began to burn in my chest.---I immersed myself in writing with feverish voracity.

For days, the outside world ceased to exist; only the touch of the pen against paper and the firm strokes of my drawings mattered. My new story was an ode to degradation: a man who ends up loving the chains of the one who destroys him.

It was a mirror of the reality in this mansion, a study of how sacrificial brides, broken and humiliated, developed a Stockholm syndrome as pathetic as it was fascinating.I took traits from each brother for my characters.

Kanato’s childish sadism, Ayato’s competitive arrogance... I hated their personalities, but their shadows were creative ecstasy for my work.Until the silence of my room was profaned by the dragging of slow footsteps.

"Hey, you... you haven't left here for days. It's annoying." Shu’s voice, thick and heavy with a dangerous tedium, broke my concentration.

"I will as soon as I finish a few things, Shu. It will be soon," I replied without looking at him, trying to cover my sketches with my forearm.

"Mmmm… What is this?"

With an agility he rarely showed, Shu snatched several manuscripts before I could react.

Panic, an emotion I thought I had banished centuries ago, tightened my chest as I watched him read in deathly silence. Then, the worst happened: his laughter. A mocking, raspy chuckle that chilled my blood.

"Hahaha… You really are a pervert. I thought you were just as uptight as Reiji, but this is fascinating."

"Shu, give that back to me right now," I demanded, my voice trembling with contained fury.

"Not a chance. This is pure gold. Empathy for blood bags? God, you're pathetic." He approached my desk, cornering me against the wood and the mountain of papers.

"The only reason I didn't touch you was because I thought you were that kind of virtuous, boring woman... but I see you're a pervert. Even for someone of our status, you're quite filthy."

His hands, cold and heavy, braced on either side of my body, trapping me. The scent of laziness and danger he exuded surrounded me like a shroud.

"Shu…"

I whispered, my eyes flashing with a hatred he mistook for fear.

"I have the right, don't I? I am your husband," he said, his face leaning toward mine with a predatory smile.

"If you like writing about degradation and forbidden desire so much, maybe I should give you some first-hand material. Let’s see if your 'facade' survives what I have planned for you."

In that moment, as I felt his breath near my neck and saw my drawings—my soul, my escape—trampled by his arrogance, something inside me did not break.

[whisperofthewaves]

greetings from the only ceske drahy wagon in the whole train which also coincidentally smells like a freshly disinfected hospital wing in middle 90s