Gave a crack at redesigning radio broadcast demon dude.
Edit: I forgot his hairy potter scar
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"I love you and I am conscious of you all the time." - Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Katherine Mansfield c. January 1921.
Yoooooo! Take a look at the amazing, soft, and beautiful Valentine's Day commission I got from @emedeme of my D&D OC, Kyrie Silbersonnen, and her husband, Ilmryn Vayn. Kyrie is a fallen aasimar bloodhunter and she met her future husband Ilmryn, in a drow prison. Long story about all of that but he helped her and her group escape in exchange for them taking him to the surface because he wanted to get away from all these cult psychos. And then he was stuck with our party. XD
But I must reiterate: I am absolutely delighted and in awe at this beautiful work of art @emedeme created! I'm in love with the quiet intimacy surrounding these two, with Kyrie giving Ilmryn a tender, loving kiss on the shoulder to the soft smile resting on his face. AAAAAAAAAH! Just thinking about their personal journeys, and then how their stories intertwined is making me teary-eyed and I blame this artwork! XD T_T <3
Seriously, thank you, @emedeme, for this vibrant and stunning commission! You always know how to blow me away, with your colors, shading, art style, and how you convey emotions among the characters' faces and body language. <3
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Chapters: 2/?
Fandom: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann
Characters: Jack Zimmermann, Eric "Bitty" Bittle, Shitty Knight, Larissa "Lardo" Duan, Adam "Holster" Birkholtz, Justin "Ransom" Oluransi, Camilla Collins
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Non-Professional Hockey Jack, Nobody Goes to Samwell, past Jack Zimmermann/Camilla Collins, Depressed (Sort Of) Jack, That Last Summer After College and Before Real Life Starts, Canon-Typical Behavior
Summary:
Jack graduated from college in May with a history degree and no immediate plans for the future. The only thing he knows with absolute certainty is that he doesn’t want to play hockey.
That doesn’t mean Jack does know what he wants. He’s got one last summer here at Camp Samwell, eight weeks to put off thinking about his future.
Chapter 2 is now up on ao3!
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gingerbread
1. “What are those, Anne?” Diana asked, pointing to the pile of unevenly shaped, lumpy brown biscuits which were keeping uneasy company with Marilla’s famous cherry jam thumbprint cookies and some of Mrs. Rachel Lynde’s golden shortbread. Anne cradled the well of her tea-cup and let the steam rise up like a genie before she answered; she knew Diana wouldn’t mind waiting because she was a bosom friend and had shown it even more every day since Matthew died.
“I don’t know, to be honest, Di,” Anne said. “I found them wrapped up in a clean dishtowel in a little wicker basket by the side door. There wasn’t a letter or a card or anything to say who made them or what they were. I know they don’t look particularly appetizing, but I thought I should at least put them out before I throw them away. They made me wish we had a cheerful pig named something splendid like Hieronymus to feed them to, but alas, we only have the chickens and the cow and it wouldn’t do to put Buttercup off her feed. We’d have no butter or milk for a week.”
“Marilla would never let you name a pig Hieronymus,” Diana remarked. She picked up one of the biscuits. “I’ll try one, a little bite anyway. If it’s terrible, I warn you, I’ll spit it out in my napkin.”
“You can’t offend me, Di—I still remember all those sets of Hammond twins,” Anne said.
Diana sniffed at the cookie, then took a dainty bite, chewed for a moment and then smiled.“I know what this is—and who it’s from,” she said.
“Don’t keep me in suspense,” Anne said. “Have I a mortal enemy in Avonlea who wishes to dispatch me with inedible pastry? It cannot be a secret admirer—"
“You have a friend, you goose,” Diana said. “As soon as I tasted it, I knew what it was.”
“Well?”
“It’s the Blythe gingerbread,” Diana said. “I’ve tasted it a thousand times, it’s their own spice blend and Mrs. Blythe will never say exactly what the spices are and in what proportion. But she never made this, she’d be horrified if she even saw these, halfway to burnt. Gilbert had to have made them.”
“Gilbert?”
“It’s not that surprising, Anne,” Diana said. “He hasn’t tried to hide that he wants to be your friend and it makes sense that he’d want to give you something—but in a way that you don’t have to thank him for it. It’s true these aren’t the best biscuits, but it’s the thought that counts and it’s awfully sweet of him.”
“It is sweet, isn’t it?” Anne said, looking at the biscuits again. He only had the most rudimentary baking skills, which was understandable since he was the Blythe family’s only son, but she imagined him in the kitchen, measuring out the flour and sugar, his brow furrowed as he considered how much of each spice to add, maybe licking a smear of molasses off his thumb. “I’ll have to thank him,” she said.
“I suppose,” Diana replied slowly. “Or you needn’t. He didn’t leave a card or a note. I don’t think he expects you to say or do anything. He just wanted to do something nice for you. I don’t think he expects anything in return, not even a thank you.”
“I’ll have to return the cloth and the basket, though,” Anne said.
“You leave that to me,” Diana said stoutly, as if she were undertaking one of Hercules’s twelve labors. Anne smiled again, thinking of Diana with the basket in the crook of her arm and Gilbert finding it on his doorstep, the cloth neatly folded with little pine tassel tucked in as a talisman.
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If I Only Could
Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson
Rating: Explicit (E)
Notes: Y’all - this ship is living in my brain & I can’t get it out. This isn’t the last you’ll see of my Steddie work. They deserve all the happiness in the fucking world!
Word Count: ~5K
Warnings: There’s a tiny bit of smut in here, but it’s me writing, so when is that not the case?
Summary:
He still felt the shocking cold of Eddie’s silver rings against sensitive skin. Steve didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but the soft touch was not it. None of the intimacy Steve shared with anyone else felt so all consuming. Until Eddie decided to close the space between them, Steve had only experienced kisses and caresses that were one dimensional. They were for pleasure and pleasure only. Eddie made everything technicolor, locking into all of his senses in a way that made Steve truly live the moment. Each second was to be admired and clung to, stored away for later perusal.
OR - a sorry excuse for a little fluffy PWP!
Find it on AO3
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Mini-Bang Sneak Peak: The Pourpre Conspiracy (Dune Fan Story)
This is sneak peak of the short story "The Pourpre Conspiracy" by @avripz.
In the cold infinite corridor of Morr VII, the Guild controllers were deployed like an ant swarm to the point of disturbance. An alarm had been ringing for a full minute, and eighteen members of the controller unit C3 were rushing to the freight zone, Victoria.
Vivid red light and high temperature were all that could be felt and sensed by the stressed controllers. They were all well paid by the Guild, but not well enough for what they would endure next.
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Coming soon to @dunefandomevents for Dune Mini-Bang 2022, with illustrations by Ryan Rhodes and Avrip & The Machine.
Sneaky Bonus: Cover illustrated by Avrip & The Machine.
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Chapters: 2/?
Fandom: The Sandman (Comics), The Sandman (TV 2022)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Relationships: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling
Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, Hob Gadling, Death of the Endless, Jessamy the Raven, The Corinthian (Sandman), Lucien | Lucienne (The Sandman)
Additional Tags: The Dreaming, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, 600 Years of Slow Burn, Pining, POV Hob Gadling, Hob Gadling Saves Dream of the Endless | Morpheus from Roderick Burgess, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus is Bad at Feelings
Summary:
There's a dead man in The Dreaming.
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Hob Gadling navigates life after death, falling in love, friendship with otherworldly entities, and ravens. A retelling of a story about stories. A study of a complicated man.
RAVISHING ART by Ev!: 1
And the other thing I’m working on!
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I’ve written fanfic for the first time in three years! (This is basically the first thing, period, I’ve written for three years.) I haven’t been this thrilled and obsessed with something since Good Omens came out in 2019, and I’m just giddy! Please go read this series! It’s only about 4k words all together, but it has CONSUMED MY SOUL for the last couple of days, and I am all aflutter releasing it into the world. If you like it, leave a kudos! If you really like it, tell me and/or share it!
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oh god shut up. you didn't even know the damn kid.
"The children are always ours, every single one of them, all over the globe, and I am beginning to suspect that whoever is incapable of recognizing this may be incapable of morality." — James Baldwin
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FORTY THOUSAND NOTES OLIVE OSTROVSKY????
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the first indication this is fake is the commentary included in the quadrilogy boxset is just the commentary he did for the 20th anniversary in 1999, the second is there is zero evidence for this outside this website and this specific reblog, however im insufferable and must know the truth so im currently watching the ridley scott “quadrilogy boxset” commentary right now . see u in 2 hours maybe
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i don’t know where the notion that if you don’t give big bucks to an artist then you’re not really supporting them came from, but when people say even a tiny bit of monetary support saves an artist, it’s not for the aesthetic or the gesture of it all. i’ve been able to have actual drinking water on days i’ve been incredibly broke simply because someone bought a brush pack for 2 euros. in the most actual, literal way i could possibly convey this: the SMALLEST amount counts. in practice counts. people-get-to-eat-today counts. especially in this age of everyone and their mother being out to deplatform artists. there’s value in the tiniest of ways
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Please for the love of god normalize attraction to fat people I can't take this anymore.
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Studying linguistics is actually so wonderful because when you explain youth slang to older professors, instead of complaining about how "your generation can't speak right/ you're butchering the language" they light up and go “really? That’s so wonderful! What an innovative construction! Isn't language wonderful?"
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i love you green. i love you forests. i love you smell of damp earth. i love you feeling before the storm breaks. i love you moss. i love you rivers. i love you streams. i love you thunderstorms. i love you sunlight shining through leaves.
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