#but tbh it could be whatever

[wanderingblindly]

If you’re still doing prompts, I would love to see what you come up with for #4 for landoscar :)

A kiss where it hurts,,,, yall ever heard the song Some Say? Prompts here :)

I’ll Wait (I’m Sorry)

The sun set long before the final credits roll, plunging them into darkness when they do. The screen turns black, the living room swathed in midnight. Moonlight cuts through the thin curtains in weak, wavering slivers — throwing shadows on the floor, catching in the whites of Lando’s eyes.

These moments, Oscar finds, glimmer like a knife.

Lando shifts first, pulling his legs up onto the sofa and turning to lean against the arm — turning to face Oscar. And Oscar would give everything to follow suit, to crowd him and capture those lips in the quiet moment after the movie ends. But he doesn’t. He never does.

“Your mum waiting up for you?” Lando asks, fiddling mindlessly with his fingers. It’s not nervousness, Oscar knows; Landon’s never been nervous around him, for reasons that hurt as much as they comfort him.

“Nah, she knows I’m here.” Lando knows that, that Oscar’s parents would let him stay over any day of the week.

Because this is his second home, Lando’s living room. It’s his second home, the sun setting as they watch a series neither know from start to finish. It’s his second home, nestled comfortably beside Lando for hours at a time. And yet, in a way, his heart will always be a guest.

The silence stretches on, not uncomfortably so. In the way that comes with endless summer nights.

“Do you —”

“I’m —”

They start at the same time, both freezing. Lando looks tense, somehow, Oscar notices; his mouth doesn’t close after he’s been interrupted.

“I need to say… something.” Lando continues on, the words measured, atypical in their caution. Oscar’s blood runs cold.

“Sure.” He says evenly, more of a whisper in the dark.

“I know that you, well. Um.” He averts his eyes, picking at his nails. Nervous. Lando’s nervous. Oscar commits the tells to memory. “I know that you like me, and —”

Oscar’s world falls through the floor, lungs lurching out of his chest. “That’s not —” He stutters out instinctively, bolting back to the other side of the sofa. The distance between them feels endless, and yet he fears Lando can still hear his heart. “I don’t —”

“Oscar, look, it’s not. It’s just that I —”

Oscar cuts him off with all the desperation of a man trying to cover a bullet wound with his hands. “Seriously, Lando, we’re just frie—”

“I can’t. Right now. And it feels wrong to… I dunno.” Lando’s voice is thick, pressed against the back of his throat. “Ignore it.”

His eyes, drowning in unshed tears, shimmer in the moonlight.

“There’s nothing — you don’t have to do anything.” Oscar finally says, hoping it’s not a confession. It feels like one. It feels like a death sentence, admitting anything to his best friend.

“I want to,” Lando’s voice, pinched and tight, goes soft.

Oscar can’t breathe. “You want to… what?”

“Like you.”

“But you… don’t.” Oscar can’t breathe because the moment’s knife no longer glimmers, lodged too deeply in his lungs.

“I can’t right now, you know?” A tear slides down, its trail dark in the shadows.

Oscar doesn’t know.

“And it’s selfish,” Lando continues, closing his eyes like he’s trying to remember the words. “To ask you to wait. But I —”

“I’ll wait.” Oscar says, immediate and desperate. “I’ll wait, of course I’ll wait, it’s —”

“It’s not fair —”

“I don’t care,” Oscar shakes his head, moving closer on the couch — as if Lando can feel the truth in his voice. He’s waited forever. He’ll wait forever more. Because it’s better than not having him at all, being with him like this. “Be selfish,” He whispers, sat almost where Lando’s feet rest on the cushions.

“Kiss me.” Lando opens his eyes, lashes clumped together with glistening diamonds. “I need to see —”

Oscar moves before Lando finishes, resting his hands on Lando’s knees and leaning over, gently pressing their lips together. He can tastes Lando’s tears, can breathe in his shaking exhale, and it’s more than he’d ever let himself imagine. He lets his eyes flutter closed, tries to engrave the feeling of Lando’s tongue — hesitant and uncertain — against the back of his teeth like a memorial.

“I’m sorry,” Lando whispers, pulling his head back just enough.

“You’re not ready.” Oscar breathes, tightening his hands on Lando’s knees — nails digging lightly into the denim.

Hardly loud enough to hear: “No.”

“I’ll wait for you, it’s — I’ve always —”

“Let’s get you home, ok?” Lando’s voice cracks, a fresh round of tears clinging to the corner of his eyes. With hands lacking finality, lacking conviction, he pries Oscar’s fingers off his knees and stands. But they’re the hands Oscar loves, and so he lets it happen.

Because he’ll wait. It’s the best he can ask for.

[monobmp]

Thought about that tid bit of Bill mentioning that he can delete memories

[timethehobo]

Self-indulgent doodle. Saw an unused storyboard panel of an Emmrich kiss scene (I think?) and had to doodle it out with my Rook. 🫣

[birdsongisland]

Id : a rendered digital painting of binx and andhera on a stone building and vegetation landscape. Binx is standing on the steps of large stone stairs and leaning over the stone railing with a soft smile to tie a piece of yellow fabric on andhera's arm. She has big brown moth wings with a golden key design and moth antennas over their chin length hair. She is wearing a yellow and cream dress, with puffy sleeves and a slit in the cream body of the dress showing the yellow underskirt. Many purple and red lost objects are sewn onto the dress such as earrings, keys, socks, flowers, scissors etc. Andhera has his back to the viewer, on horseback and looking up at binx with the same soft expression. They're wearing an iridescent dark purple armour with crystal-like designs, goldwn earrings, and holding a crystalline black halberd. Shining yellow moths are flying around them, purple roses are blooming, and a slight border frames the image with cristals, thread, keys and moths./end id

im normal and spent a normal amount of time, effort and thought on this

[rystiel]

i feel like poolverine easily could’ve been one of those “they’re flirty but it’s mostly unserious” situations, and for most of the movie yeah they were extremely gay, but wade’s been like that with other guys and it was never treated as a serious type of relationship before. they’re willing to die for each other, but even then the romantic aspect of their relationship could be glossed over because it’s a superhero movie, that’s just what they do, and they’re working together to save a whole timeline—it’s not just about them. but then the movie doesn’t end with them saving the day and moving on. i think this’s really the part that sells poolverine as a genuine relationship to me… logan’s leaving, and wade calls for him. he can’t stand to let him go. then he introduces him to his family, and logan stays. he doesn’t really need to stay, but they’ve both decided they’re better off with one another than without

[journey-to-the-attic]

the rest of the cast got their new song covers, so i wanted to try putting the others in a band :>

i did want to make it look a bit like an album cover but i have no idea how those are designed so eh?? i also couldn't think of any band or album/song names so. if anyone has any ideas...

[weallpartyatybcpatricksfuneral]

I think if you were to put one of those sensory videos on for ybc!patrick he would sit there and Watch like how a cat stares at a television

[aro-aizawa]

i like to think everyone has a colour associated with them, whether its just your fave colour or what you generally wear most of or what colour your bedroom walls are. i always associate the name sophie with dark blue, my mum is always a nice turquoise, i like to think my colour is a bright sunflower yellow.

if you have a specific shade pls tell me i adore when ppl have associated colours and tell me them, bc i think of them when i see that colour

[secrescaryat]

// pentiment spoilers (implied ig but still there)

more of these because i was inspired

[radiocity]

The L Word: Lookbook ↳ 2.01, Life, Loss, Leaving

[tainebot01]

ACE ATTORNEY INVESTIGATIONS - PROSECUTOR’S PATH / PROSECUTOR’S GAMBIT SPOILERS:

Localizers do you realize you have the potential to do the funniest thing ever with this scene.

[fisheito]

omg where'd you get your top it looks like it would fall apart after one cycle in the wash

[noproveninterests]

Inktobertale Day 17: Father's Day

can never miss an opportunity to show off to his dads

ink and aster belong to @/comyet

top belongs to @/undertop

[usercelestial]

the more we talk about bucktommy"s first fight the more confident i am that they're going to work through it like narratively the idea that the first hurdle buck meets in this relationship is the one that breaks it is soooo lame and unfulfilling. like that's literally what he's always done, his relationships break so easily after one or two fights that it just wouldn't feel true to the growth that buck has gone through to have him run away after the first serious conflict. adult relationships are full of hurdles and buck needs to show that he can handle them and what it means to be in a committed, long-term, mature relationship.

[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)

[sharksliveontrains]

aftg is wild because kevin says "give your game to me." and "close your eyes and tell me what you see" and neil just says "you." and andrew has to watch the whole thing. and then andrew is the one he falls for.