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#but I couldn't stop so
batbabydamian · 2 months
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*you opening the love letter* what does your damijon look like, pls pls pls pls pls pls pls, i know it would be so cute, i just know it 🙏🙏🙏
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here you go! thank you for the ask, this was a lot of fun to do! they're working on a case together ^^
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mwagneto · 2 years
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genuinely about to cry at the word for france in te reo māori. so like. almost every country name is just the english name but altered to only have letters that exist in te reo (so like canada = kānata, norway = nōwei etc) except france that is literally just fucking. wīwī. as in ouioui. imgoing to fucking die
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somnimagus · 4 months
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My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.
[id in alt text]
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bara-izu · 5 months
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Star kiss, coloured edition! + Silly bonus
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nipuni · 7 days
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THE DOCTOR We had a pact, him and me. Every star in the universe, we were going to see them all.
My version of The Master and The Doctor in their Academy days 😊
A speedpaint video of this will be available at my Patreon on april 1st!
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madootles · 1 year
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happy october third!
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cassettedec · 8 months
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presenting, for your viewing torture pleasures: the last scene of season 2 with Love of My Life by Queen playing in the background
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maybebi47 · 1 month
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anyone else ever think about that scene in episode 7 of sophomore year when ragh found out his mom is dead but she isnt really dead her consciousness was in another body, and he started saying "do all our hugs count? it wasnt her real body but they count right?" and then fig hugs the gem her dad is trapped in and goes "IS THIS NOT A HUG?" and ragh hugs HER and they all start crying and adaine says my "parents never hugged me" and kristen just goes "i hold trackers hand quietly"
anyways i miss fantasy high sophomore year gang
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inkskinned · 1 year
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i keep thinking about hobbies and how i often spill over myself to pick up new ones. i have adhd, i end up trying something for like a month and then just getting far enough in it that i move on, satisfied.
and that should be fine; but it's never fine.
i am a pretty decent artist; but i can't just make art for my dnd campaign, i should be selling dnd maps and character designs and scene setting pieces. i can't just make my friends matching earrings, i need to get an etsy and ship them internationally and take bulk orders. i make pretty good props and decorations and use them to throw my friends parties - but i should be running a party planning business and start taking paying clients and networking and putting my skills to actual use.
for some reason, i never figured out the specifics of pottery. it was a fun class and i enjoyed myself - and still, i'm embarrassed, years later, that i put in all that useless effort. everything i make has to be stunning. stellar. i should have applied myself more. maybe i'm too lazy. maybe i'm broken and selfish and needy. actually creative people would have kept going; they would be bettering themselves at every possible opportunity.
we find ourselves in this trap, even accidentally: we need to commodify our time, because it is a commodity. if we spend our efforts and our time not earning, isn't that the same thing as burning free money? and god forbid you ever take up a hobby that ends up being more expensive than you thought. you sit in your car and you look at the receipt and in your head you hear a conversation that isn't even happening - your mom or your friend or your partner all saying oh great. not this shit again. it's always something with you, and it never actually means anything.
i have realized this horrible thing, recently - i'll get excited to start a project, pick up a new hobby. and then i just... stop myself. i start thinking about the amount of time it will take, and how it'll look in my monthly budget. what if i can't even produce a good enough final product. sure, it's exciting to think about how i could make my friend her own custom dice. but i'm just polluting the earth if i don't get it right. better not bother. better not try.
restless, i get caught in the negative space. the feeling that oh god, i want to create. and that horrible sense - yeah, but i don't have the time to just put to waste.
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greencarnation · 4 months
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eleven is fascinating to me because he came right off the back of tens horrible traumatic breakdown after he lost everything and he immediately tried to establish himself as the opposite of that. he is funny and goofy and almost childlike, and he bulldozes on in his adventures with amy like nothing happened at all. but then something happens and his masks slips and it's like oh! the core of this man is still anger. he is so so angry all of the time and this façade is the only thing stopping him from being consumed by it. he isn't over any of it and he hasn't moved on. he is wearing a fez and laughing but under that all that exists is age old anger and grief and it is going to consume him
#i do think that this pit of anger was eventually covered and soothed by the ponds#but he didn't adress it and he couldn't even look at it until he was twelve#when he stopped pushing back and repressing everything and finally allowed himself to exist as he was#but ok listen#its all layed out in the first 3 episodes of season 5 and in the way amy sees him#episode 1. here is the new doctor he is energetic and reeling and fun#episode 2. the space whale comparison. here is the new doctor. he is unthinkably ancient and almost godlike but he is so so kind#and patient and good. he is ancient and lonely but he can't stand to see children cry. so the doctor helps people#episode 3. daleks. the doctor is a soldier. these are his age old enemies. he wants them dead and he will stop at nothing#all logic and reason vanish. he is hitting the dalek with a pipe and yelling his head off while amy watches in horror#like obviously we know why but amy didnt#this is not a sane or rational man he is unstable and angry#and in that episode he was stripped back to what he largely is: hate#you would make a good dalek ect ect ect#anyway 3 episodes with 3 very distinct and equally definitely traits layed out like: here you go#i don't like elevens era much but those first 3 episodes were great#doctor who#eleven#amy#eleventh doctor#matt smith#dr who#dw#i mean idk this is what river literally had to spell out for him#eleven was careening completely out of control#how long til doctor means warrior indeed?#mine
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turrondeluxe · 5 months
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The Taira Clan heirs, everybody...!
(future vision of this)
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hgedits · 7 months
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queenofinys · 13 days
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she's right and she should say it rebecca ferguson for dune: part two (2024)
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aldks5296 · 8 months
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[Image ID: A digital sketch of Tangotek and Zedaph from Hermitcraft. They are shown from the waists up over a white background. They are both wearing A.S.S aviator hats and hugging while grinning happily. There is a cut out screenshot of the both of them standing next to each other with a white outline. End ID]
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starrystevie · 6 months
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18+ | explicit sex & smoking | read here on ao3
it's 1996 when steve's world gets turned upside down again.
or, well, technically it's a few minutes into '97 when everything changes. he's at a new years party that his ex timothy is hosting and everyone is still hooting and hollering as they ring it in, pressing sloppy kisses to cheeks and lips with arms hooked around necks.
steve doesn't get kissed. not because people aren't eyeing him with a smirk and mischief and open arms of their own. no, he doesn't let himself get kissed because something feels... off about the night. the energy is weird, buzzing through his skin like electricity, keeping him on edge in a way he hasn't been since he left hawkins for boston in the fist place.
it isn't long until he figures out why.
timmy is walking up to him with his hands on some guy's shoulders, pushing him backwards with a wide smile like he's trying to convince him of something. the guy is about his height, short cropped dark hair and a leather jacket, the sight of his back alone getting steve excited. timmy always did know his type to a t.
"hey!" timmy yells over the music as he catches steve's eye. "got someone for you to meet."
once the guy turns around, the smiles on both steve and the mystery guy's faces fall before their minds catch up with them and plaster them back together. even with the short cropped hair, even with the piercing in his eyebrow, even with the stubble spreading over his defined jaw, steve would know that face, that heartbeat, anywhere.
"steve, i wanted to introduce you to someone. jamie, this is steve, you know... the guy i was telling you about?"
timmy's trying to be helpful, not even attempting to be subtle as he pushes the two closer together with a wide grin. steve's going on autopilot, reaching out a hand to grab the one outstretched towards him, but his brain is going a million miles a minute.
"nice to meet you, steve," eddie, or... jamie, says, palm pressed tightly against his own.
steve can't say anything, focusing too much on the warmth on his palm and the way his deep voice shakes through him like thunder and the way he feels like he's 19 again with a stuttering heart.
"what are-" he starts.
eddie shakes his head and tugs on steve's hand. "not here. come on."
they end up in a secluded corner, close enough that steve can smell smoke and leather polish and the sharp bite of his cologne. close enough that he can see the lines starting to appear on the corners of eddie's eyes, the stray grey hairs popping up in his beard, the questions swirling behind his eyes.
"eddie."
"jamie," is all he says back, not even bothering to look away from steve's eyes. "it's jamie now."
they both sigh like they don't know where to start because they don't. steve grapples with all the questions in his mind before settling on one. the one that tore through him late at night. the one that stayed on the tip of his tongue anytime he heard a van backfire or metallica.
"where did you go?" he knows it sounds like an accusation because it is. he doesn't let himself feel bad when eddie (jamie) flinches.
"feds," he replies easily, sneaking a cigarette out of his pocket and putting it between his lips. he tilts his head back to light it away from steve's face, blowing smoke up towards the ceiling. "once i got better, they scooped me up and brought me to boston. new name, new hairstyle, new life. at least they let me choose my name so i didn't get stuck with some thing awful."
steve snorts. "so you ended up with 'jamie' how?"
"middle name's james. it just made sense." he says it with a shrug and puffs at his cigarette again.
they look at each other for a moment. steve watches his tongue flit out of his mouth to wet his lips, watches the overhead lights glint off the metal of a surprise tongue piercing, watches his throat swallow around nothing but spit.
he can see, feel, eddie doing the same. he hams it up, pulls his lip between his teeth and makes it a show, looks back up at eddie from under his lashes. takes in a deep breath when eddie inches closer to him until their hips are bumping and steve plucks the cigarette out of his lips for a puff of his own.
he's 19 again, in love or like or lust with a boy in a leather jacket that has the world against him. he's 19 again, working a hand over himself to thoughts of his crush who up and vanished without so much as a goodbye. he's 19 again, crying after he comes, wishing he could go back in time before he met curly hair and a battle vest.
"so how do you know tim?" eddie whispers like he has to be quiet even though the part is loud and no one could hear them if they tried.
"how do you know him?" steve asks back, blowing out smoke and putting the cigarette back between eddie's barely spread lips.
his eyes flick down to look at steve's still pursed lips from when he angled the smoke over his shoulder. "we used to fuck, once upon a time when i first got to boston."
steve hums like it's the answer he expected and maybe it is. "same here. dated for about a year."
eddies eyes grow wide and his hip bumps into steve's like it's a question in and of itself and maybe it is. "didn't know you swing that way, harrington."
"well, you don't really know anything about me then, do you? didn't back then either, munson."
his eyes goes even wider, something like fear and shame and comfort and hope swimming in them. "leonard. it's leonard now."
steve hums again, says 'jamie leonard' like he's feeling it out on his tongue. tasting it between his teeth. teaching his mouth how to form the words instead of what he really wants to say like 'eddie' or 'munson' or 'i'm still somehow in love with you no matter your name'.
"jamie leonard," he says again, breath hitting eddie's lips. he shivers when he sees his lips part a bit more like he wants to swallow the sound and air that steve gives him. "we have a lot to catch up on, don't we?"
steve's apartment isn't all that big, isn't exactly small either but it has everything he could possibly need. he has a living room that looks out over the harbor and a kitchen with all new appliances and eddie munson naked in his bedroom. you know, the essentials.
their clothes are all over the floor, eddie's motorcycle helmet flung somewhere in the vague direction of the armchair in the corner but the smack it makes when it hits the wall makes steve think there's probably a hole in the drywall.
but eddie's sucking on his cock, hands wrapped around his thighs as he takes him even deeper, eyes flicking up to meet steve's, beard scratchy as it rubs against his sensitive skin. he's never been blown by someone with a tongue piercing but he doesn't think he can ever go back now.
the last thing on his mind is wondering if there's a hole in the goddamn wall.
"oh fuck, yeah there you go. feels so goddamn good," steve breathes out as he feels the back of eddie's throat on his cockhead. he tangles a hand as best he can in his short dark hair to try and coax him even deeper. eddie hums at either the praise or the tug on his hair or the way it feels as he works his tongue over steve's cock and it makes him jolt unexpectedly.
if he could go back in time and tell his 19 year old self that eddie was alive, that he was okay and breathing and learning how to suck cock like a goddamn professional, he'd do it in a heartbeat. save himself a few years of pining and fly straight out to boston to see it for himself. he's sure robin would have preferred to not have to listen to his whining everyday about brown eyes and dark curls.
eddie brings a hand to cup his balls, finger teasingly pressing into steve's taint, bobbing his head eagerly like he wants him to come in his mouth, but steve has other plans. he tugs eddie off of his cock quickly, lines of thick spit falling between them and sticking to his chin before crowding him up against the pillows.
steve kisses like he's dying and eddie is survival. he kisses him like he is drowning and eddie is the shore that he's clawing his way towards. he kisses him like 19 year old steve could only dream about.
soon enough, steve's sliding into him with a groan that he lets eddie swallow from him. the headboard knocks heavily into the wall a few times making even more possible holes, but all steve can focus on is the heat around him, the way eddie's whines bounce off the walls of his too empty bedroom and cover him like a blanket.
he likes fucking this way. he likes being able to watch as someone's face contorts into pleasure, like to see eyes rolling back and mouths dropping open and sweat beading around their hairline. likes seeing eddie fall apart.
"steve, oh my god," eddie's voice is still deeper than he's used to as he moans so he angles his hips up more to hear it again, the low timbre snaking through his veins and leaving fire in its wake. "don't stop."
"i won't," he groans into eddie's open mouth. "wanted this for so long, for fucking 11 years, not giving you up yet."
it's a bit more open than steve normally is when he first fucks someone but this isn't just someone. this isn't fucking a stranger he picked up in a bar that had almost the right shade of brown eyes and patches on his jacket that are almost the right shape. this is eddie. his eddie. or well... jamie.
"fuck, i'm gonna date you so fucking hard, harrington. yeah, right there keep going, shit-"
he's babbling as steve works his hips faster, tangling their free hands together to press above their heads on a pillow, and it's everything steve could have asked for. hearing his name fall from the lips he's dreamed about for years, sharing the same air as they breath into one another.
he thought he was over it, thought he had moved on at least a little bit from a halfway stranger he knew in his teens, but with the way they're both looking straight into each other's eyes begging each other to see them, he thinks they might both be back in 1986.
"what do-" steve cuts himself off as he whimpers, close, so close to the finish line. "what do you want me to call you? is it jamie or-"
he's shaking his head on the pillow, leaning up to bite at steve's lips and pull it between his teeth. he looks serious and certain when he says, "no, that name's not for you, it's... i need-"
steve brings his hand down to work over his cock and revel in the way his eyes roll back until he can only see white. he hits something that makes his eyes fly back open and he gets to see his favorite shade of brown again.
"eddie," he whispers. leaning down quickly, steve presses a kiss to his ear before whispering his favorite name there too. "eddie, baby, come on. let me... come on, eddie."
it feels silly to be chanting a name of a ghost as intensely as he is. but he can see it crawl over eddie like it's bringing him back to life. like he isn't bones on the ground in an alternate dimension. like he isn't a plain headstone in a graveyard next to a forgotten trailer park. like he isn't playing pretend with a fake name and a fake life.
steve says eddie and it brings him home.
afterwards, they lay together in steve's probably too soft bed, tears drying on both of their cheeks as they catch up. as they tell each other secrets that their younger selves could never dare. as the piece together the lives they have and the lives they want to have and slot each other into the mix.
steve has a hand in eddie's hair, eddie has one trailing over steve's arm that's slung over his chest. he's always been a fan of cuddling after sex.
"y'know," eddie mutters, "tim's been trying to get me to meet his hot teacher friend for months now."
steve hums, presses a kiss to his temple. "and he's been trying to get me to meet his hot motorcycle tech for months, too."
there are a few holes in the walls from the headboard and eddie's helmet, but steve thinks that they can patch those up, too.
he's still jamie leonard to the outside world. he's still a guy who doesn't have much family other than a mysterious uncle in indiana and doesn't have many friends other than ex boyfriends. he still introduces himself with a handshake and says a fake name like it's real.
but when he gets home, when he crawls onto a couch that overlooks the harbor and has arms wrapped around him, he gets to be eddie munson once more. and with the ghost of a man in his arms, steve harrington feels more like himself than he ever thought he would.
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civetside · 28 days
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Your Harrowhark is a stress ball they give out in company meetings. I want to violently throw her at a wall.
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you know who ELSE wants to violently throw harrowhark nonagesimus at a wall
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