Abstract Concept's various nonsense tumblr. Follow me and I'll follow you, unless you post untagged NSFW stuff or bash the Avalanche. If you bash the Avalanche, you can go fuck yourself.
this was removed from tumbrl due to “violating one or more of Tumblr’s Community Guidelines”, but since my wish came true the first time, I’m putting it back. :)
OH MY FUCKING GOD, IT’S BACK ON MY DASH.
THIS SHIT WORKS OKAY, I AM DEAD SERIOUS.
The last time I saw this on my dash, I didn’t think it would happen, so jokingly I wished I could go to a fun. concert.
AND GUESS WHAT, I WENT TO A FUCKING FUN. CONCERT.
THIS SHIT WORKS, TRY IT.
YOOOOOOO
I SAW THIS ON MY DASH THE OTHER DAY AND THOUGHT “ITS WORTH A TRY” SO I WISHED I COULD GET A 3DS
LITERALLY LIKE 4 DAYS LATER MY DAD SENT ME A PICTURE OF THE 3DS XL HE BOUGHT FOR ME WHILE I WAS AT SCHOOL
IM STILL FREAKING OUT ABOUT THIS
holy fuck, I didn’t expect this to work, I was like psh, whatever it’s just a quick reblog, but I wished my Dad would actually respond back to me AND HE FUCKING DID A FEW DAYS LATER, I GOT A FUCKING TEXT FROM MY DAD TODAY WHO HASN’T SPOKEN OR RESPONDED TO ME IN MONTHS HOLY FUCK WHAT IS THIS MAGIC IT WORKS.
I WANTED TO SEE MY BOYFRIEND AND I DIDN’T THINK I’D GET DAYS OFF BUT THIS WEEKEND I’M HEADING UP THERE??? THIS IS CRAZY SHIT
SO LIKE I JOKINGLY WISHED FOR MY OWN LEN KAGAMINE AND THEN LIKE A WEEK LATER I GOT A LEN NENDOROID??? H ELP
WTF OKAY SO THIS SHOT ACTUALLY WORKS BECAUSE WHEN I WISHED, I HAD WISHED MY CRUSH WOULD LIKE ME BACK AND GUESS WHAT? I HAVE A BOYFRIEND NOW. WHAT THE HELLLLL?????
ok I’ve said this before but IM DOING IT AGAIN THE FIRST TIME I SAW THIS, MY WISH DID COME TRUE SO I REBLOGED AGAIN AND SAID IT IN THE TAGS BUT THEN I WISHED FOR SMTH ELSE AND IT LITERALLY LITERALLY HAPPENED LIKE A COUPLE DAYS LATER WHAT THE HELL SO NOW IM WRITING THIS HERE FOR YOU BC I DONT BELIEVE IN THIS CRAP BUT STILL IT’S AN AWFULLY BIG COINCIDENCE
THE BOY I FELL I LOVE WITH LEFT TO TRAVEL THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD AND HAS BEEN GONE NOW FOR 3 MONTHS. WE HAVENT SPOKEN SINCE BECAUSE I DIDNT WANT TO MAKE HIM FEEL TRAPPED TO ME AND NOT ENJOY HIS TIME SO I WAITED FOR HIM TO CONTACT ME FIRST. I SAW THIS ON A PARTICULARLY LOW DAY WHEN I WAS MISSING HIM SO MUCH I CRIED FROM THE PAIN, GUYS I REALLY LOVE HIM, SO I THOUGHT MEH WHAT THE FUCK, AND WISHED HE WOULD JUST LET ME KNOW HE WAS OKAY.
GUYS.
HE FUCKING CALLED ME 20 MINUTES LATER
20 FUCKNG. MINUTES. LATER.
GOOD THINGS DO HAPPEN. AND ITS IN THIS POST.
I wish for someone to leave something in my ask.
OKAY SO I ASKED FOR A HEDGEHOG AND NOW GUESS WHO HAS A PET HEDGEHOG
i want you to stay for one day and one nigh with me and give me sp much love i dont have to cry of lonliness tonight, every night
no bUT THE LAST TIME I DID THIS SHIT I WISHED MEETING MY IDOL AND IT WAS RIGHT BEFORE I FCKING GOT THE FCKING EMAIL SAYING I WAS GOING TO MEET TAYLOR OH MY GOD
REBLOGGING AGAIN BC THE FIRST TIME I REBLOGGED THIS I WISHED TO GET OUT OF MY MISERABLE TOWN AND I MOVED TO NORTH CAROLINA (a whOLE NEW STATE!!!! FAR FAR AWAY) AND THEN I SAW THIS AGAIN AND I WISHED TO TRAVEL MORE AND GUESS WHAT LIL BUDDY! I WENT TO ENGLAND AND FRANCE AND NOW IM GOING TO THAILAND AND TAIWAN THIS SUMMER. SO NOW IM REBLOGGING AGAIN I SWEAR TO GOD THIS WORKS!!!
(Haven’t done this in a while. 5 years? Jeez, I feel rusty. just an excerpt, then)
Hob pushed his papers aside, as if to show Dream the man had all of his attention. “And in the spirit of friendship, I promise … no more questions,” he said. He spread his hands in the air. “No pushing, no prying. I will take you just as you are, as friends do.” His voice softened. “I won’t … push you away like that again.”
Dream sighed inwardly. He supposed he deserved that. “No, Hob,” he said, gently but firmly. “I was the one in the wrong. You offered me the favor of your friendship,” the terrifying prospect of emotional intimacy, he re-scripted wryly in his head, “and I ran. Like a coward. It was selfish, and foolish, and … you deserved better.”
Hob’s eyes smiled at this, though his mouth followed only weakly. He ran a finger around the rim of his wine glass, and Dream could practically see him trying out several sentences in his head before settling on one. And why wouldn’t he? He doesn’t know what will set me off. A bitter thought; could one truly be friends if one of you felt he had to censor everything he said?
“It’s just that … I never want to chase you awa–uh. I just–don’t–want that. To happen again.” Hob was stumbling all over his words, choking them out and looking miserable. He even winced a little as he met Dream’s eyes.
This was intolerable. Dream leaned forward, furious–with himself. “Then I grant you a promise, Robert Gadling. Whatever you do, I will never run from you again.”
Hob sat up, astonished. “You don’t have to promise me that sort of thing,” he protested, as if Dream had tried to stuff a large wad of cash in his hand, rather than merely pledging to be slightly less horrible.
“I do. I owe you that much.” Their drinks came, then, and Dream could cover his worry in a sip of wine, even though he never usually did. Did that make his worry more apparent, or less? Hob was staring as if he’d eaten a live tarantula. Dream tried to ignore this. At least he could go through the motions. He cast about in his mind for something to put the man at ease, to put them back on track. On impulse, he leaned forward and grabbed–oh, not the hand, that’s much too familiar–the man’s forearm, just above the wrist, and squeezed it briefly before letting go. To Dream’s surprise, this seemed to do the trick, and much better than he’d expected, as well, for Hob looked truly, deeply pleased. Perhaps too pleased. Dream would have to distract him. “So. Do tell me; what have these last years been like for you, Robert Gadling? And how is it The White Horse Inn stands shuttered, yet somehow there is still an Inn at which to meet?”
Hob laughed. “Well. Developers bought the old inn. It’s just the inevitable march of progress, I suppose,” he added with a little ironic twist of smile. “We really should have expected it to happen at some point, and made some sort of contingency plan.”
Dream nodded. He should have foreseen it himself. He’d lived much, much longer than Hob Gadling; he knew how all-too-brief human institutions were. He had been careless.
“So I … uh … you know, investment property and all, figured the real estate market was pretty good, for the time, and …”
“You bought an inn?” Dream looked at him in surprise. The New Inn. Yes, of course.
Hob took a sip of wine and refused to make eye contact. “Yeah, well. You know. I figured you were still angry, but you’d get over it at some point and come back, and I wanted there to be a place for you to return to,” he pointed out.
“You bought me an inn, then,” Dream replied in a lightly teasing volce that failed to disguise how gratified he was. People had built him temples, once. But temples were often cold and dark.
Hob sputtered, coughing on his wine. “Well–no–I mean, not exactly …” He grabbed up a napkin and sopped at the mess he’d made on the front of his shirt before daring to glance at Dream, who was not quite smiling … but not quite not smiling, either. Hob’s shoulders relaxed. “I suppose I did, at that.”
Dream tried very hard not to look flattered–not to be flattered. He looked around the room, soft with the evening light slanting through the windows, so much warmer and more welcoming than the early days at the White Horse. “I suppose it’s lucky I caught you here,” he said absently. “Thirty years late … how often do you come?” The cessation of movement caught his attention and he turned to pin Hob with a stare. The man gave him a hunted, slightly guilty look. Dream’s eyes widened. “You live here, don’t you?” he said, again completely failing to mask the delight in his voice.
Hob had bought an inn and had moved into it and set watch, day after day, awaiting his inevitable return. And Hob was the one person he had thought to doubt, only because his own brash arrogance might have run him off. Dream found this, in a word, fascinating. He had fashioned an entire world for others; a realm for them to be and important functions for them to perform, and all manner of things, and he had given Hob nothing–really, truly nothing, as it had been his Sister’s gift–other than his occasional company–not even his name–and Hob had been the one who stayed. Hob had stayed, and rebuilt what he could, and waited, and made a place just for Dream, some unnerving, haughty stranger with the temerity to turn up every hundred years and demand his life’s story. Dream would not have credited it. Well, the Dream before the Burgesses, at any rate. Perhaps this Dream had grown, just a little, in his suffering.
Hob cleared his throat. “Yes. I–-I have a room upstairs.”
