#THE FUTURE IS SOFT BOYS

[somnimagus]

My page for @destinytriofanzine! I drew something about kids always dreaming of far off places

[id in alt!]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

That's the face he makes when he's feeling silly.

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[hitlikehammers]

feel the bigger thing

rating: t ♥️ cw: criminal-levels of softness, rockstar!Eddie, domestic husbands are domestic ♥️ tags: established relationship, rockstar!eddie, rockstar husbands, love is lying on top of each other on the sofa discussing buying a new house with a pool, soul-deep love, slice of life, softness

for @steddielovemonth day twelve: Love is having hope for the future together (@acasualcrossfade)

you know how the rockstar husbands talked about lights for their pool in the original fic, je ne regrette rien? well GUESS WHAT FEATURES HERE

“These numbers,” Eddie’s reading over the printouts from their manager, sales projections and preliminary tour dates and all the rest: “baby, we can get the new house, hell, we can keep this one and have a second house if we want it,” Eddie kisses the top of Steve’s head where he’s got him bundled up on his chest, tucked under his chin where they’re currently both sprawled on the couch; Eddie says he likes to think like that—likes to know Steve’s there by design, no question, the weight of him evident every time he breathes, he says; held close to my heart, baby, in fact, is what he also says.

Hopeless goddamn romantic, his husband. But he wouldn’t have him any other way.

“We don’t need a second house,” Steve points out, smooshed against Eddie’s sternum.

“We can get the pool,” Eddie added with the audible equivalent of his brow-wiggle and okay, fine, that’s a good point, because Steve may not have really used the one at his parents’ after, well, everything, but he…does kinda miss having one. Now that the memories are distant enough in both time and miles that he doesn’t see standing water deeper than four feet and start fucking hyperventilating anymore.

So…yeah. Compelling argument regarding a pool.

“This record,” Eddie blows out a long breath, slow and even as Steve rides it where he’s braced atop his chest, lifted with his lungs: “this record’s gonna change everything.”

Steve turns his opposite cheek against Eddie’s heartbeat, huffs a little as he gets comfortable again before he asks:

“You think so?”

Eddie doesn’t move, but the fact that he stills so completely is kinda like a motion in itself.

“You don’t?”

He doesn’t sound angry or anything, or even upset. Not disappointed. Maybe just…surprised.

And Steve gets that. The numbers attached to this album are…if they’re right?

This is going to be huge.

But.

“I mean,” Steve shrugs, which is kinda useless given his position, so he sorts of ends up nosing at Eddie’s shirt instead as a byproduct of the hushing of his shoulders: he’s not mad at that, as the outcome:

“I guess, not really,” Steve finally settles on because it’s really not any more complicated than that.

Then Eddie’s got his fingertips at Steve’s nape and he’s spreading them through Steve’s hair and oh.

Oh, that’s so fucking nice.

Which is probably why he pairs the sensation with the question he follows with:

“It’s not good?”

And Steve almost doesn’t hear it, and he wouldn’t even fucking feel bad for not hearing it or not processing it when Eddie’s hands are in his hairlike that because fucking hell, Eddie knows what that goddamn does to him; but Steve does hear it. And again: it’s not angry, or upset. It’s maybe a little surprised. It’s not even quite…hurt, or disappointed, but it’s far closer to either or both than Steve’s comfortable with, than Steve ever wants to hear in that voice, so:

“God no,” he answers with real feeling, shaking his head to back it up and also to—mournfully—dislodge Eddie’s distracting fucking hands; “it’s spectacular,” Steve tells him, plain and honest because it’s the fucking truth: “definitely your best yet.” Also true.

Eddie goes still again, and Steve tips his head up and back at the most uncomfortable possible angle to catch Eddie expression, to read its clues: he’s watching Steve so intently, like he’s something unfathomable and dear enough to spend eternity decoding—but that’s strange in itself. They kind of know each other inside-and-out by now.

So Steve rolls back the words exchanged, looks for the catch, the dropped stitch, the record-scratch.

Gonna change everything—

Ah. Steve’s breath hitches a little, but: he thinks he’s found it. Right.

He makes himself breath in deep but slow, gentle and calm as he can, and Eddie’ll pick up the tension he can’t wholly wash out just yet, and Eddie’ll feel the uptick of his pulse where his one hand holds Steve still around the ribs. But it’s fine. Because they’re fine.

Okay.

“I just,” Steve exhales long; “you said everything,” and Steve tries to make his tone hold the word itself to account, to fill it up with all of the things that came to Steve’s mind and made him denounce the possibility on sight—change everything? But there’s so very little about Steve’s life, about this life together, about their life that they’ve clawed and fought for and now get to relish and bask in: Steve doesn’t want that changed.

And to think a fucking album release could change what they have, that was just, insanity.

…right?

“You said that, and I—“ and that’s as far as Steve gets before Eddie’s dragging him up, firm but so tender, and so full of love in just the touch that any misgivings—and they weren’t even that, that were just…just little off feelings that Steve knew weren’t of real consequence, because he knowswhat they are and what they have and his first instinct was right damnit, and he knew that like he knows the sky is blue and Eddie curls frizz no matter what you fucking do to them: they won’t change in the ways that matter, because they’re…unshakable.

So Steve knew that already, and he knows it now in just Eddie’s touch drawing up upward and closer, but if somehow he’d managed to miss both of those points?

The way he kisses Steve is…fuck, it’s like sucking his soul to consume.

“Oh, oh baby,” Eddie speaks so that they’re lips aren’t ever anything but locked tight, but touching close and with feeling; “not everything, no,” he promises, seals it, vows it straight into Steve’s open mouth so it’ll slip safe down to his heart and soul:

“Not everything,” he whispers, still close enough they can’t breathe without the other there, too, and: that’s heady. That’s real.

“Good,” Steve exhales but with a weight to it, a finality: a seal and vow of his own as he nips Eddie’s swollen lips once, twice, and then tucks himself under Eddie’s chin again, where Eddie’s arms are waiting to envelop him even closer, now; tighter still somehow.

“You’re the center of my world, you know that?” Eddie finally murmurs into Steve’s hair once their breaths have calmed a little, and he can say it steady and sure like he means to, and Steve really just smiles, and burrows that half-an-inch closer, where he compresses Eddie’s flesh to the bone so he can feel the nearest a person can be.

“I do know that,” and it’s not even a fib, or a half-truth: and Eddie already knows the understood ‘you’ of the sentiment clear and well-established—Steve knows Eddie’s love in all sorts of ways, big and small and in between but the first way he probably believed it best was coming to grips with the fact, the unwavering law-of-the-universe fact, that Eddie Munson’s heart beats for Steve the very same Steve’s beats for him. No difference. No more or less. Perfect concert, exact same time signature: precisely shock-start to pump in the first place, like the same spark keeps time in both their chests.

Steve knows he’s loved in ways that don’t have words. Because he loves the very same, and so he knows them intimately, no labels required.

“I already told the promo team we work around your schedule or I’m gonna have to by inconveniently down with the flu for appearances,” Eddie adds as Steve settles back on his chest, soft again and languid: he wasn’t fearful, or even truly hesitant, but—it’s nice. To lean back in and cuddle close.

“You know you don’t have to—“ Steve starts but Eddie tuts him quiet in a flash.

“I do have to. Save my heart the aching, baby,” he presses lips to Steve’s temple and speaks there, drags his mouth wet to the skinL “more important, save yours the same.”

And Steve maybe can’t help but press his own lips first through the cotton of Eddie’s shirt straight to the center of his chest, and then leaning up a little, to the stretched-out collar sneaking the lowest peek of flesh beneath his clavicle: kisses there too, a little sloppy and a lot overfull of feeling as he breathes:

“I love you something wild, Eddie Munson,” and his pulse skips happily, a little dance under Steve’s mouth as he smiles before propping his chin on Eddie’s chest and looking up, meeting the eyes he knows are waiting for him, waiting to lock with his.

And when they do—even after all these years, and Steve has no expectation of it ever change with more to come—but when their eyes meet it’s Steve’s heart that goes giddy, a little off-kilter for joy, and it fucking is that, isn’t it.

It’s wild.

“I love metal, baby,” Eddie answers, and Steve tips his head a little; an odd direction, but he’s intrigued: “music and D&D and meeting the fans,” and Eddie’s playing with his hair again, and he knows what that does, but—

“I feel something so much bigger, for you,” and Jesus, Steve’s in love with maybe the only person in the world who can match him for romance; sometimes outstrips him, even. His heart goes back to dancing chaotic and he couldn’t fucking stifle the grin if he tried, and fuck if he’s ever planning to try.

“Fucking sap,” Steve mouths tight against Eddie’s chest, damp through his shirt for the chuckle he breathes there, weightless and marveling because he gets to have this; they get to have this: they’ve had this for so long and they get to keep it.

“You love it though,” Eddie runs his cheek back and forth across the top of Steve head, and Steve just hums:

“I don’t love it,” he insists with intent in it: “the bigger thing,” he corrects, makes clear: “I feel the bigger thing.”

And Eddie just ducks a smile against Steve’s hair, warm where as it spreads, and Steve can feel it; can’t help him mirror it full as he sighs:

“So tell me more about this pool.”

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

divider credit here

[thriftedtchotchkes]

same energy, different font 😔

[growing-bolder]

I think I have the promise of a thick build for any FFAs looking for their future fat boy

[inchidentally]

https://x.com/MERCL4REN/status/1743286121973555513?s=20

find the difference level impossible :D but seriously, this tweet gave me a stomachache from laughing so hard.

THERE'S MY TWO CREEPY TOO SIMILAR VESTAL VIRGINS THAT MAKE ALL THE MEN ON THE GRID (except lewis) GO HUUUHHHHH???

[dancewithlou]

Sometimes I just sit and think about how Louis is actually such a soft person he calls hearts, love hearts, he loves cuddles and said he would be the big spoon because he loves cuddling, he has fairy lights up in his house and loves oversized clothes especially jumpers/hoodies and he gives himself sweater paws, his friends and peoples he’s worked with have described him as shy when they first meet, he’s a hopeless romantic but also writes songs inspired by his home town, by his friends and good nights out, he gets inspired by us, his fans his Louie’s to the point where he writes songs about us and for us. This isn’t even everything but I sometimes just get so overwhelmed with this bro.

[blackwood4stucky]

an endgame fix-it fic?

Just seeing Bucky, all battered and bruised from battle, was enough to send Steve spiraling. As they stood there pressed up against each other, amidst the blood and carnage of war, Steve noticed something. Bucky was trembling.

“Sweetheart?”

Bucky looked up through his lashes and Steve just knew. His baby needed help.

“I gotchu now, you don’t gotta worry about a thing.” Steve wrapped Bucky up in his arms, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll take care of you now.”

---

I have no idea when that's getting written though...

[traggalicious]

Passport doodles and a Wip 💪💪 Brex (the kiddo on the left in the wip) is @newtxoxo’s OC :DD

[oranjeleeuw]

Enchanted is so Toro Rosso Versainz coded

[twinktherapy]

I let the trees swallow me whole-

Make me part of the earth.

Let my bones become branches,

and skin be the dirt.

[suau-raised-by-corrupted-gems]

Aged Lil Quartz ref!

Was gonna save this for later to avoid spoilers, but screw it; you've already seen what he's looked like in an ask, it's fine. I hope.

Like most adult renditions, his hair has grown long, like his father's hair [formerly at least-], but thanks to his gem heritage it grew to cover his back, like his mama Fluffy [and Rose's genetics taking full swing].

He's a lovable 7ft tall doofus with more baggage than he actually realizes.

It may seem cliche for him to look like this, but I can't quite think of any other way he'd look.

His scales now cover most of his body, save for his face, as he doesn't want to "obscure too much of his humanity," as he says. He only ever has his face fully scaled to either intimidate or when sparing/training to ensure extra protection.

Of course, due to him eating large amounts of food and meat, he's grown much thicker and squishier than usual. However, he still hits like a freight train. It comes in handy when sparing as it cushions blows from opponents.

His back spikes are often obscured by his hair and flattened to his back, but if he's upset or feeling defensive, they will spike up.

He has the ability to shapeshift all of this away, but he preferred to have his scales all over him incase something comes up.

His clothing depend; he hardly wears shirts, save for the one he's worn for 16 years and his pants were specially tailored to fit his tail.

[zellk]

Feeling bits and pieces of Lana & Rena's story fall into place these past weeks/months since I've started to re-think about them is so satisfying.... I really wanna find something better than the first/old version of their dynamic ! (I don't blame young me, I didn't know any better back then haha) There's still a lot of weird spots and events & changes to figure out (especially their order of arrival) but it's so so fun thinking about them again aaaaa, I missed my messy girls so much

[growing-bolder]

Waiting for the woman that’ll make me weak in the knees

(Also from all the weight she put on me)

[ilyamatic]

I am coming out of my cave to give quick update:

I have updated Andrico's gender.

Behold, the Genderqueer Baddie, Andrico El-Saieh (they/he/she)

Detailed explanation of my thought process and their current view of gender under the cut.

So check it, I saw a TikTok of a Black person talking about their pronouns (they/she) and how depending on who you are depends what pronouns they prefer you use. Black people, particularly Black women get carte blanche to she/her. Non-Black people they prefer "they/them" unless they know you. And that stuck with me. Especially the part where OP spoke of "only certain groups or people have access to my femininity".

So yeah, Andrico would prefer to be a neutral presence to strangers/people he doesn't know well. Not androgynous, just neutral. For people in his community, he/him is the way to go.

She/her is something else all together. He has to fuck with you heavy for him to let you use she/her. Particularly outside of the Arcanaverse. Because Andrico knows how he shows up in the world. He's 6'2, built like a brickhouse, etc. So he knows anyone calling them she out the gate isn't doing so because they recognize their innate femininity ya feel me? So that part of him he is fiercely protective of.

I have no plans of going back and changing previous works or things I have been working on. And you wouldn't be wrong to still refer to Andrico by he/him pronouns because they are still his pronouns. It's just a little more nuanced now. Overall this is still a developing situation but I think it would be fun to take you on this journey.

[sinkat-arts]

Did a page of sloppy volleyball boy doodles as a break from the linework I’m doing for another thing... part of it turned into kinda cute Tsukkiyama. 

No references were used in the making of this doodle. They’re all looking a little off, but they got the spirit.