#in a way. i guess. i dunno

[electoons]

guys this "keeping myself busy with distractions so I don't get sad" thing isn't working

[secondbeatsongs]

for anyone too young to know this: watching The Truman Show is a vastly different experience now, compared to how it was before youtube and social media influencers became normal

before it was like, "what a horrifying thing to do to a human being! to take away their autonomy and privacy, all for the sake of profits! to create fake scenarios for them to react to, just to retain viewership! to ruin their happiness just so some corporate entity could harvest money from their very humanity! how could anyone do something so evil?"

and now it's like, "ah, yeah. this is still deeply fucked up, but it's pretty much what every influencer has been doing to their kids for a decade now. probably bad that we've normalized this experience"

[sysig]

Permission to headbutt: Granted (Patreon)

[boonanaghost]

Finally got around to drawing these two idiots

Two bonuses from doodle boards:

[stevebabey]

Eddie is beginning to wonder if he’ll ever reach a point where Steve couldn’t reduce him to this state.

This state being… transfixed. Eddie is sure he must look like a lovesick cartoon. In fact, if he could manage to drag his gaze away, he’d probably find red hearts circling around his head in a halo, popping like little bubbles.

But Eddie can’t move his eyes. Can’t even close his mouth either.

Steve’s talking to him too, which is most definitely worse — he’s totally missing every word. He can see Steve’s lips moving, pink plush lips wrapping around words but fuck, that was a total trap because now Eddie is just looking at his lips. He tries to refocus, to listen. His eyes just wander back to what he was staring back at the first place.

Was Steve like this all the time? Just a walking around looking so damn delectable?

Or is it Eddie, just a starved man who’s been living off stolen glances, for as long as he can remember? For once, he’s learning, he’s allowed to look.

And by God, is he looking.

Steve’s not even doing it on purpose either, which probably makes the whole thing funnier. Eddie knows what his boyfriend (boyfriend! he thinks giddily in his mind) looks like when he’s cleaned up to impress. He can spot the way Steve preens beneath Eddie’s lingering gaze.

This is not that. Today, Steve is just cleaning, a usual Sunday morning ritual.

He’s got some old sport shorts on and he’s clearly grown a bit since he first got them— unless Hawkins has always been giving out slutty little shorts to the basketball team (They haven’t. Eddie would know if they did.)

He’s wearing one of his wife-beater singlets too. It’s a little on the scrappy side though, considering it’s nearly see-through with how worn it is.

Honestly, in Eddie’s humble and gay opinion, it’s stupidly hot. The dark hair dusted across of Steve’s chest is visible beneath it, the shirt showing off the shape of his broad chest. Even better, his happy trail is visible and goddamn, if that doesn’t make Eddie happy, he doesn’t know what will.

But it’s not even that.

Quite frankly, Eddie’s rather embarrassed that he’s basically blue-screening because Steve is pulling out the cord out from the vacuum cleaner.

But… but he’s yanking it up towards his chest, slow and strong repetitive motions— that take enough effort to make his biceps bulge with every tug.

Eddie can’t stop watching. The cord must be several metres long and he’s not sure if he should be cursing it or thanking it for the view he gets; Steve’s tan arms flexing and rippling. Try as he might, Eddie can’t help imagining how they must look when Steve’s got his hand aroun—

“—hello? Are you even listening to me?”

Steve’s voice cuts into Eddie’s dangerously side-tracked thoughts and he pauses his tugging at the same time. It’s the thing that finally allows him to break his lustful stare at Steve’s arms. Oh God, he just got all hot and bothered over his boyfriend doing the vacuuming.

“Hello.” Eddie says back, because that was the first word to register in his brain. “I mean- yes. I’m—”

Eddie decides mid-sentence that he’s not getting away with the lie. He pivots. “Okay, no, I didn’t hear that. Would you please tell me what you just said, oh lovely sweet man of mine?”

Ever the butterer-upper, he was. Thank God it works on Steve. He rolls his eyes a little but there’s an adoring grin on his lips.

“Man of mine,” Steve mutters amusedly under his breath. He drops the vacuum cord on the carpeted floor and leans down the grab the handle of the vacuum. “You just kinda froze when you came in. I was asking if everything was okay? I’m just doing this room then I’ll be done, if you don’t like the noise.”

Eddie adores that Steve’s taken his silence as though he might be afraid of the vacuum cleaner or something. He nearly snorts aloud at how far from the truth it is.

“Uh huh.” Eddie nods, not bothering to correct him. He jerks a thumb behind him, pointing at nothing. “I’m just gonna…”

He spins on his heel and exits left stage, fast as he can while still looking normal (he’s unsuccessful, as he leaves a baffled Steve behind him.) As he enters into the kitchen and decides to fix them both a pot of coffee, Eddie lets himself giggle over the pure absurdity of what just happens.

It’s mortifying. It’s hilarious. He can never tell Steve.

Except, when Steve comes to find him in the kitchen and trades a kiss for some coffee, Eddie can’t help it. All he ever wants to do is make Steve laugh.

He decides it’s worth the embarrassment when Steve laughs so hard coffee comes out his nose.

Steve teasingly promises that he’ll to try be less distracting, then rescinds his words at Eddie’s abject reaction (“Don’t you dare.”) looking far too smug— in a delighted sort of way. Preening, in that way Eddie loves.

Their first kiss, as Eddie slides onto Steve’s lap and loops his arms over his shoulders, fingers dancing on those tasty arms, tastes a little bit like coffee. Their mugs grow cold, untouched.

Eddie doesn’t mind — he’s too busy finding out that the rest of their kisses taste like something between sunlight and Steve.

[ionlylikemycat]

when martha jones is dying, all sorts turn up on her doorstep. mickey sent out messages everywhere to everywhen, and they all came. people she’d helped, friends she’d loved, the odd alien or two who’d wanted to whisk her away for a romance across the stars

captain jack harkness is the last of all of them

she isn’t sure how long it’s been for jack, he looks ever the same. she saw him last a few years ago when he left earth for some adventure, but martha knows time travelers, knows the look on someone’s face when it’s been a hundred years since they last saw you

sad and happy and regret and just plain old love

jack tells her stories. makes her laugh. holds her thin hand in the night when she’s shaking and cold under three blankets but mickey needs all the sleep he can get

he loves her just as plainly as he always has, because it was never about her youth or her beauty but about her, about the universal Force that is martha jones

and she loves him, because she always will, because when you fly through the time vortex with people they get stuck in your heart and never leave you

martha spends three days debating with mickey if she should tell jack. about new new york, and the motorway, and his actual, permanent death. they wonder if it would help him, that there really was going to be an end someday, or if it’ll just hurt knowing he’ll have to spend billions of years forced back to life before he’s allowed to rest

jack leaves on the fourth day. martha and mickey wave goodbye from the garden steps. jack kisses them both on each cheek and then the mouth, a last goodbye for when the word just isn’t enough

“jack!” martha calls out as his vortex manipulator beep-boops an incoming teleport. he turns back just as the light surrounds him, “you are not alone.” jack raises his arm in a salute, and that is the last they ever see of him

she dies two weeks later, home on earth with mickey and tish and leo beside her, with the sound of all the kids and grandkids playing in the garden floating up to her window. and she knows. knows that the time will come and the universe will turn on and on and on, and one day

martha jones and captain jack harkness will be together for the final time, again

continuation of this post

[chill4234]

Things that I know.

1. Yaoi is the opposite of yuri

2. According to tumblr, yuri seems to be just about anything, but I have most commonly seen it take the form of two inanimate objects in close proximity to one another. Eg minecraft furnace and crafting table, trains crashing into each other, etc.

Therefore, we can conclude that Yaoi is two inanimate objects that are very far apart from each other. The sun and the earth are yaoi.

[veroinfaciem]

Learning how to draw glowing things!!

[2aceofspades]

TW: Blood/injury, body horror

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How are we still here y'all oh my stars...

[somnimagus]

you are worth all the struggle and bloody mess

[id in alt text]

[spicyraeman]

Am I the only one who thinks its weird that despite being the most resistant to using the tadpoles powers, the first thing lae'zel does after the nautiloid crash is use the tadpole link to talk to you

[moraggian]

cross-posting some stuff i like from my personal twitter / text from here

[arianwells]

A god must feed; a god must be fed.

How do we make something outside of that?

[antianakin]

[anza-redstar]

“The man is a public danger. There are lonely houses scattered over the moor, and he is a fellow who would stick at nothing.”

[…]

“I assure you, Sir Henry, that in a very few days the necessary arrangements will have been made and he will be on his way to South America.”

Reading it as a kid, I don’t think I gave it a second thought, but, uh… this seems kind of rough on South America.