#that fill fix me

[agayconcept]

.

[hitsuyou-fukaketsu]

The truth

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

well...

[molinaskies]

An interesting “side effect” of the canonization of the “classic era” meaning “younger era” is that the classic era now reads as “cute fun times” before the core cast became teenagers/tweens and things got super, super complicated.

Because the characters are “younger,” there’s an air of “little rascal innocence” to everything they do now. The new releases like Mania and Superstars now feel like little throwbacks to the young heroes just learning how to work together and make a difference in the world.

I don’t think this is a bad thing at all.

[waspspots]

The finished fossil timescale vase! Seven periods represented by seven fossils in the seven colors of the rainbow. Closeups and fossil names below

Red: Trilobites, ammonites, and pikaia among other things for the Cambrian. Orange: Tiktaalik filling in as the Devonian representative, had to include the iconic transition fossil :] Yellow: Thrinaxodon and Broomistega in the Triassic cuddle. Green: my favorite pterosaur, Ramphorynchus, representing the Jurassic. Blue: my first favorite dinosaur, Spinosaurus, for the Cretaceous. Indigo: my favorite animal, a coelacanth, sort of wedged in for the Late Cretaceous since I couldn't come up with a better Cenozoic fossil in time. Violet: Sahelanthropus Tchadensis, an early hominid (I'm not 100% on if it's still regarded as our earliest known ancestor, cool regardless!!)

[imogens-temult]

STATION 19 - ‘This Womans Work’, 7.01

[lafirechicken]

I’m so glad that we all agree Johanna is secretly built

[rioblitzle]

so, unfortunately, adobe animate fucking blew up like 60% of what i had done on this animatic forever, so it's rough and incomplete, but here's what remains of a balloon smp scene i was loosely storyboarding for fun!

cut down audio is taken from this edit by chipsetradio

[agayconcept]

.

[ego-sandwich]

Every red needs their green

[flowercrowngods]

It's unreal. The light is streaming in through the windows, the curtains still drawn to block out the midday heat, tinging their living room in golden hues that match so well with the light grey fabric of their new sofa.

Eddie should probably snap out of it and head over to the windows, open the curtains and let the light in, and with it the warmth and fresh air of a surprisingly wonderful day.

It's March, he hears the echoes of Steve's giddy voice a week or two ago. Everything's better in March.

Eddie didn't agree then, and he's not sure he agrees now, but he must admit there is something magical about this moment.

Still he remains rooted to the spot, leather jacket heavy on his shoulders, his hands hidden in the sleeves of it, just in case this really is a dream. Just in case someone will come in and snap him out of it, take away their couch and leave an eviction notice.

It's dumb. But Eddie doesn't deal well with things that are unreal. Things that he knows aren't meant for him. Things that he knows he only gets in this one play-through of his life, while millions of other Eddie Munsons are out there in parallel universes who never get to even lay eyes upon a couch this nice. Let alone buy it. From their own real adult money.

It's a corner sofa, the fabric light grey, and he remembers it being harder than it looks. Solid. Just perfect for both their fucked up backs, scar tissue pulling if they sit wrong for too long, phantom pain and muscle aches coming in hot when all they want is to just relax and enjoy a lazy evening.

Eddie bites his lip, trailing his eyes along the pristine fabric, the pillows lining the back of it, the flawless stitches keeping everything in shape.

They have a couch now. A sofa.

It's so fucking unreal.

He drops to the floor right then and there, sitting with his back against the wall, and never once taking his eyes off their sofa. It feels important to look at it for a while. It feels important to wait for Steve. It feels... It feels like maybe he'll ruin everything if he goes and sits on it now.

And it feels really fucking big.

At some point he hears the front door opening, their lock going so smoothly now that Steve fixed it with some graphite, and the sound makes Eddie smile. That's another thing that's unreal. The key barely making any noise, the lock not rattling, the door not creaking and cracking. Eddie pulls a strand of hair between his lips, the smile feeling too silly for this room, for this home, for everything he gets to have now.

For all the tiny things that matter now. All the tiny things he gets to have, turning the key's smooth slide into an allegory of everything he ever wanted but never dared to hope for.

The slide of curtains, the click-click-click of the window handle being turned to let the air in. The breeze of fresh spring air dancing around his nose.

It's all a little much. It's so fucking addicting.

And then Steve. Socked feet coming to a stop beside him, a hand landing in his hair, a voice that's so endlessly warm and fond and maybe a little worried sounding from above him, "Hi, angel."

"Hi," Eddie says, tearing his eyes away from their couch to meet Steve's. The sunlight from the windows hugs him, making him glow. Eddie smiles. He smiles and smiles and never wants to stop.

Steve hums as he leans down to press a kiss to his forehead, and Eddie weaves his arm through Steve's legs, holding onto his knee.

Everything feels a little less silly now. Like every time Steve doesn't question his little moments of sitting on the floor and just staring at things.

"We have a couch now," Eddie says, because it feels important to point out. Because Steve isn't looking at it.

"We do," he hums. "I got the call earlier. Thanks for helping with that, baby."

Eddie nods again, leaning his cheek against Steve's knee and trailing the couch again with his eyes. It looks brighter now that the curtains don't turn the room into something out of a sepia-type movie anymore.

Steve's hands comb through his hair, massaging his scalp a little with his nails. It's nice. It's warm. It's pretty.

And it's so unreal.

"I'm twenty-four," Eddie says then, and some part of him wants to carve that into the fabric. He won't. But maybe he should carve it somewhere else. "And I own a couch. It's a little crazy."

Steve comes to sit down beside him, their shoulders pressed together and he links their hands, resting them in his lap after a brushes a kiss to Eddie's knuckles.

"Why's it crazy, angel?"

He shrugs, resting his head on Steve's shoulders and curling into his warmth some more.

"Most of my life I never thought either of those would happen, y'know."

Another hum, followed by another kiss to the crown of his head. Another smile.

"But you did it," Steve whispers. "You made it. And we've got a couch now."

"We've got a couch now."

Saying it out loud doesn't make it feel any realer. It only makes his heart race and his eyes prick.

"I love you," he says, finally looking away from pretty grey fabric to meet prettier hazel eyes. "I love you so much."

Steve leans in, kissing the tip of his nose. "I love you. Thank you for buying a couch with me."

And it occurs to Eddie then that Steve understands him. Sitting there on the floor with him, hearing his words and listening to those unsaid, understanding Eddie on such a fundamental level that it should be scary. And it is, sometimes.

But he's not scared now. Because they have a couch. And they have pretty curtains that keep the light outside and still turn the room into something magical. And they have a lock that only needed a bit of graphite to let the keys glide smoothly.

And they have each other.

They stay on the floor until Steve's stomach growls, and they eat dinner with their backs against the couch and Eddie's feet in Steve's lap. They hold each other close after dinner, just breathing each other in as the breeze blows around them.

In the end, Eddie is the first to sit on the couch, with Steve standing between his legs and giving him a scalp massage in silence. In the end, Eddie buries his face in Steve's stomach to hide the tears, and Steve lets him.

Because this is real. And he gets to have this. They both do.

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid@hotluncheddie @gutterflower77@auroraplume@steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important@stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround@pukner@i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic@bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @awkwardgravity1 (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently)

[aria0fgold]

With a glass body

You bear the weight of the world

Praying for safety

[citrussunrises]

New coping mechanism: drawing perry.

[its-all-papaya]

Ooo what’s omega lando about? Only if you wanna share!

need to be asleep ten minutes ago but answering one ask as a treat to myself for surviving 11-hour workday + performance check-in.

omega lando is just. smut. eventually i think i will write a proper world build-y a/b/o bc i'm fascinated by the mundane and societal aspects of dynamics, but this is not that fic. this is smut with a lot of internal monologue on the side.

here, since i have no earthly idea when i'll finish the last 1/10th of this and get it on the ol' ao3:

"There you go," Oscar murmurs at his temple, "that's so good, Lando. You're so good." It sends a shiver all through him - would even without the hand Oscar's shoved up the back of his t-shirt, scratching his long fucking fingernails over the nobs of Lando's spine. Fingernails are mostly an omega thing. If Lando’d not been able to smell Oscar across the fucking paddock before they were even teammates, he’d have thought- "Hey," Oscar's eyes are soft and round when Lando finally unglues his face from the side of his neck. The skin there is sweaty from the contact, and Lando's cheek sticks a little as they separate. "Can you tell me what's wrong?" Lando swallows once, twice. Oscar's scent is so strong he can taste it in the back of his throat. The feel of it dredges up locked-up memories of Oscar's wrist between Lando's teeth while he cried and cried on Oscar's knot, raw and weak and helpless. "You're being so good for me, sweetheart, just one more." Lando shakes again, but it's not exactly the same. It's twisty - the usual anxious shame he doesn't even understand why he ever feels all tangled up with something else, too. Something that gets stronger when Oscar’s hand pauses elbow-deep under his top, fingers just shy of Lando’s nape.

[transmechanicus]

I’m being very brave at 1am this tuesday morning, there’s a queer gathering event for my grad school tonight and if i want The Rewards Of Being Known i am going to have to endure The Presence Of My Ex and every neuron i have thinks i’m being hunted by tigers just for saying yes to the invite. We’re not even on bad terms (afaik) i just have no data on how many ppl there will be, and i’m terrified of seeming like a creep just for showing up in the same space as them. Fuck and Damn and Hell.

[destielwarmsthecocklesofmyheart]

clicked on the article ONLY to see if they included spn

glad they did

i dont really agree with the Lisa and Ben part but everything else is damn right

burns me up