all of these men are so in love with kane, it’s embarrassing
i’m forty minutes in and i still don’t get what the fuck this movie is even about
that was the longest fucking intro ever
Sorry bby I didn’t mean to ignore you. As an apology let’s watch supernatural together
i think that’s the perfect apology actually, let’s do it
gotcha watch citizen kane for class. wish me luck
We have the (super cute) story behind the tucked in shirt, but has anyone asked you about what’s in the bag or what he’s carrying? What’s the story behind that one?? Your drawings were so good, and I love that you have headcanons about them 💕✨
HAHAHAH I’m laughing bc that’s actually supposed to be a coffee pot but I forgot to draw the counter and the cup 🙈😂 blame my 5am brain skdjjdbd
I know that one has shading of light in the morning but I’m thinking of Robbe humming softly while making Sander coffee at night.
He’s painting, he’s streaking the brush in fierce, confident strokes and he just doesn’t wanna stop until the piece is finished. He’s so lost in the colours he doesn’t even feel his muscles weakening. Okay. Maybe he feels the twinge of aching in his lower back and the pull of muscles in his shoulders. But he’s determined to get at least most of it done.
Now, Robbe doesn’t usually encourage it because one: Sander needs sleep and two: robbe needs sleep and he can’t sleep without him. But he doesn’t stop because there something in the air, something fresh and fun and sweet. He brings him his cup of coffee and watches him as he listens to Bowie in the background.
“If I could just get this right- fuck the symbolism of it all. Light and dark fighting against each other or maybe they’re not fighting at all, more like dancing? Fuck, am I boring you?” he seems to realize in a random spur.
“No, you’re not boring me,” Robbe chuckles. “I like the light and dark.”
He gets up to give him a kiss. It starts soft and sweet, but Sander has a hunger for life tonight, wrapping his arms around his waist and carrying him into his lap. Robbe follows eagerly and deepens the kiss that tastes like sugar on his lips. A bittersweet tang from the coffee, too. But he’s drinking it in all the same, hands settling on Sander’s neck. When Sander pulls away, he chases his lips, opening his eyes to see where his love had gone.
“Are you tired?” asks Sander. There’s a sparkle in his eyes and Robbe knows just the one. The one that’s seductive and heavy and enticing.
“Me neither. I’m almost finished and then we can spend the night together?”
Robbe nods and matches his smile, kisses him again, deep and slow, leaning his weight into him. He takes his face in his hands and it’s like his fingers are on fire, feeling the blood rush underneath Sander’s cheek.
“Okay,” pants Sander. “Now. I’m finished now.”
He doesn’t wait for a response as he carries Robbe away to their room.
I’M SORRY WHAT
fucking losing it over “girl guy? guy guy? they them? girl them? guy them?”
okay she’s alive phew
i knewwww she was gonna be dead
Chaos already dominates enough of our lives. The universe is an endless raging sea of randomness. Our job isn’t to fight it, but to weather it together, on the raft of life. A raft held together by those few, rare, beautiful things that we know to be predictable. Ropes. Vines. Vines? Let him finish! Us. It won’t matter what happens to us as long as we stay honest and accepting of each other’s flaws and virtues. Annie will always be driven. Shirley will always be giving. Pierce will never apologize. Britta’s sort of a wildcard from my perspective. And Jeff will forever remain a conniving son of a bitch.
Community S3E04 “Remedial Chaos Theory” premiered 10 years ago (October 13, 2011)
hi so first of all OBSESSED WITH THOSE SKETCHES!!! and i would love to hear those headcanons you were talking about <3
Hiiii LIZ🥰 thank youuu 🥺🥺
Here’s one of them for tucking in his shirt! (Which I see you just found skdjdj)
And I’m imagining Robbe staring wistfully out the window with a cigarette in his hand. He’s squinting in the 6am light, a soft hazy glow, his eyes dark without the usual warmth. He takes a drag and lets the smoke blow in delicate wisps in the air. It’s not long before he hears a voice snapping him out of his thoughts.
“That’s gonna end up a bad habit.”
He turns to see Sander with a cup of coffee in his hand and a second one for him. He hands it over and Robbe’s thankful for the warmth in his hands that were chilled to the bone in the cold morning draft. They both haven’t have slept all night, too tired for words, but too awake to stop the thoughts circling their minds. Sander sits beside him, hunched over with his coffee in his hands, his toes touching Robbe’s leg through his socks.
“Caffeine’s an addiction, too,” Robbe replies, his lips rising ever so slightly.
Sander sips his coffee and let’s out an “ahh,”dramatically revelling in the taste.
“Not quite the same,” he says.
Robbe supposes it isn’t. One is meant to keep you alert and awake and one is meant to calm you and keep you at ease. One gives you headaches if you don’t have it one morning and one slowly, ever so slowly, tricks you into thinking it’s giving you life, doing you a favour, but in return it’s actually sucking out all the air from you throat and lungs. He grimaces thinking about a future like that.
“I’ll stop,” he says. “It’s just the one for now,” he flicks the flares of the cigarette butt out the window.
Sander takes another sip quietly and Robbe notices the way his finger grips the cup tighter.
“We could talk. About whatever’s bothering you.”
And maybe it’s time. They’ve been up for hours without energy to utter syllables but their bodies are waking up now, biological clock and all. So, Robbe takes a deep breath and tells him all the things that are bothering him and all the stress piling up between classes and his friends and his family. And he thinks he feels better now, better than whatever the cigarette did and when he tells Sander that, he takes it from his hand and asks him why he even started in the first place. It’s usually Sander that tends to get self-destructive in the mess of his mind.
So Robbe tells him wryly that “everybody’s doing it nowadays, don’t you know?” lips rising ever so slightly, a joke Sander picks up, and that “you’ve smoked a few, too” and “I just wanted to try it” he ends up apologizing and Sander’s immediately shaking his head.
“I was just asking,” he says. “But be careful, yeah?”
And Robbe hears the slight concern in his voice and it’s like he can hear his mind running through the thoughts lightning fast. The thoughts that say that Sander’s fine if anything happened to himself but if anything happened to Robbe? He doesn’t know what he’d do then.
“Yeah,” whispers Robbe as Sander hands him back the cigarette. -
(And then the drawing in the corner with the hands is about them smoking a joint instead, limiting even that, because truth be told, a little weed never killed anyone 😌)
i KNEW he was the one who pushed her
bruh she just called him the fucking help and yet HES not good for HER
are they fucking flirting through scrabble
why is owen strand showing up in my ad break
an episode is silence is such a cool decision
hii tasfia! i'm just popping into your inbox to tell you that adore your drawings and the domesticity of them 💓😌 and i would love to hear your headcanon about the one tucking in his t-shirt <3
Hiii Emma!! 🥰💕 thank youuuu so much🥺🥺
Sander isn’t much for the simple things. He likes big statements. Everything he does and sees is always something loud and eye-catching: his bleached hair, the art he creates, the art he sees, the grand romantic gestures that sweeps his boyfriend off his feet. But every once in a while he looks at Robbe and he gets caught up in simple. A quiet moment where he does something or says something and it’s like Sander’s floating on air, dreaming on a cloud.
It happens when Robbe is quietly humming while making his morning coffee, when he slips his hand into his without thinking on the streets, when his icy feet slowly melt into the warmth of his under the sheets, when he watches him sleep, his breathing even and steady.
And it happens when he watches him get ready in the mornings.
Robbe’s getting dressed for class, or to meet with Zoë and Milan or Yasmina for brunch. He’s getting his jeans on, pulling up his pants to his waist, getting the belt through the loops. And then he’s wearing a white shirt, shaking out his hair to tame some of the mess it makes. Then he’s meticulously tucking it into his dark jeans and Sander’s mesmerized by the way his fingers move. It’s a simple thing, really, but he finds all the muscles in his back relax as he watches him and he sinks more into the pillow of the bed. He’s feeling a lot of things right now, sleepy and dreamy and and insanely attracted.
And it’s when Robbe grabs his wallet, putting it into his back pocket, and turns around with a startled smile that Sander lets out a small snort.
“What?” asks Robbe.
“Nothing. Just really like you in that shirt,” he says.
“Hmmm,” hums Robbe as he puts his black sweatshirt over it. “It’s yours,” he says.
“Stealing everything of mine, huh? First my heart and now my shirts.”
“You’ve stolen mine, too,” retorts Robbe.
“I’ve never stolen your shirts,” Sander gives him a pointed look. He watches him check the battery percentage on his phone and take it off his charger as he pockets it. He walks over to him, shaking his head with a smile as he leans down the bed to kiss him softly.
“My heart, idiot,” Robbe laughs, a sound that gets captured in Sander’s mouth. He licks the melody off his lips, tastes the minty toothpaste he’d used to brush his teeth this morning, runs a hand through his hair, knowing he’ll have to fix the mess again.
“Come back soon,” he whispers.
“Always,” Robbe whispers back into a kiss on his cheek.
Sander isn’t for the simple things, but with Robbe around, he’s learning to like them.