#share mutual friends

[stuckinapril]

friend wanted to see my tumblr, and when i told him i can’t show it to him bc it’s basically my personal diary he went “oh so I can’t see it but a bunch of strangers on tumblr can??” he literally does not get me. no one will get me like the people in my phone get me

[hairmetal666]

Steve and Eddie don't like each other at first. Or, no, that's not quite right. They're still bonded from everything. They're friends, sort of, but they don't spend time together outside the group, have trouble talking one-on-one.

Steve doesn't think about it much. So, he and Eddie won't ever be real friends, okay. He's a little disappointed, but mostly he doesn't understand how he feels about the other guy. He's always anxious when Eddie's around, clumsy and stuttering, infected with Robin's tendency to nervous chatter. It doesn't make sense. It's just Eddie. But that's the thing. It's Eddie and Steve doesn't know how to act around him.

And Eddie? Well, he spends a lot of time avoiding Steve because the fucking cascade of butterflies he gets every time Harrington is around. He knows what it means, knows even he isn't immune to the Harrington charm, but he needs to be. He needs to keep his heart safe. So, he keeps his distance because Steve Harrington is not for him and never will be.

It changes during movie nights. First it's teasing Dustin and Mike, mocking whatever horrible movie the kids put on, and then it's inside jokes, and playful bickering, and evenings with just the two of them drinking beer and sharing joints.

Then it's August. It's too hot everywhere and Steve's parents are home, so they're in Steve's car, driving with no destination, a couple joints in Eddie's jacket pocket and a six-pack in the trunk. They're listening to a mixtape Eddie made Steve, a bunch of metal. Steve still doesn't get it but there are a couple of songs he enjoys. Rainbow in the Dark starts--this is one Steve likes, reminds him of Eddie and not just because it's Dio. Sun filters through foliage and into the car windows, backlighting Eddie's curls like he's some kind of deity, beautiful and ethereal, not part of this world.

Steve starts singing along to the music, can't help himself. His friend throws him a beaming smile, big enough that Steve thinks his heart stops. He smiles back. He and Eddie sing the rest of the song together, and Steve is...he's content. He's happy. He hasn't felt this way since--well fuck--since 1983. Their eyes meet again, gazes linger, warmth pools in Steve's chest and low in his stomach.

Oh. He thinks. That's what this is. It settles something inside him, the knowing.

Time passes, they get closer, share a bed most nights. Doesn't matter where as long as they're together. Sleep better this way, both of them.

They're at the trailer when it happens, sharing a joint, loosely tucked against each other in bed.

"I've never had a friend like you," Eddie says. His eyes stay fixed on the smoke he exhaled. "I know you and Robin are--like, I get it. But you're--for me--"

"Yeah," Steve agrees. He flushes from his chest to forehead. "For me too."

It's enough, they both think. They're standing on the edge of more have been for months, but this? This is good. There's no need to push, to force. They're hurt, Steve thinks. They're healing. And they have time.

Corroded Coffin plays their first show back at the Hideout in December. Steve's never seen Eddie like this, performing. His shirt is cropped and artfully torn, his jeans more rip than pants. He's wearing eyeliner and his hair is wild. And the way he moves, sinuous and sleek, hips thrusting in a tantalizing rhythm as he shreds on the guitar. Steve wants so badly he feels it in his teeth.

He finds Eddie smoking behind the Hideout after the set. His eye are too bright, his smile manic, the adrenaline keying him up to the highest setting of Eddie. Steve knows he matches the energy, can't help it.

Eddie throws himself into Steve's arms, wrapping around him tight enough that no space lingers. The musician presses his face into Steve's neck, nuzzling, lips pressing against his pulse point. They touch always, share a bed and cuddle, but never like this; nothing like this. Steve pulls Eddie closer, and groans at the mutual swivel of their hips.

Eddie's breath comes in panting bursts, and Steve thinks, "here it is, finally, finally," but the door next to them bangs open and they jump apart at the noise.

Their friends and the rest of the Corroded Coffin guys come out, frolicking and shouting, complimenting Eddie on the show. If anyone noticed them embracing, notices the way they both adjust their clothing to hide their matching arousal, they don't say anything.

Steve wakes early the next morning, early enough that Eddie doesn't even stir beside him, hair wild and eyeliner smeared.

He gets out of bed, starts breakfast, chocolate chip pancakes and bacon, Eddie's favorite. He's so intent on cooking that he doesn't hear the other man come up behind him, doesn't realize he's even awake until a warm body presses to his back, long-fingered hands slipping under his t-shirt, tracing the scars on his stomach. He leans into it without a thought. They touch all the time, but they don't touch like this.

"Watcha making, sweetheart?" Eddie whispers.

"Your favorite," Steve answers.

Eddie makes a little sound, almost a whimper, and presses his face to Steve's neck. Steve lifts his chin, leaning into Eddie and offering more. Warm lips press against his jaw, down to the moles on his throat. A moan slips from his lips as he grinds his ass into Eddie's hardness. The other man groans, grabbing at Steve's hips.

Somewhere in the press of their bodies, Steve has the presence of mind to turn. He lifts his hands, cups Eddie's jaw, thumbs caressing the stubbled, scarred skin of his cheeks. "Okay?" He asks. His voice shakes.

Eddie's eyes are wide, shining, and he swallows hard. Steve knows he's overwhelmed, knows that the words won't come. Instead, Eddie nods, and finally finally they kiss.

Steve is flying. His blood soars in his veins, his heart lifts off. It was always supposed to be this. Always supposed to be them.

It was slow. It was easy. It was small jokes, and long looks, and little touches, and singing in cars and best friends and sharing beds.

His heart belonged to Eddie Munson for months. It will belong to him forever.

[mx-paisley]

ART COMMISSION FOR ASH @teafromthemicrowave I MADE A COUPLE DAYS AGO‼️‼️

In this piece is his John Doe design!! I'll link to one of his drawings of John in case you haven't seen it :333333 (GO HAVE A LOOK AT THEM PSLPSSLSPS) i loveeeeee his long bright yellow hair ok im gonna stop here before i yap too much

[mahoushojo-chan]

Astarion x Tav || bed sharing

one forever won't be enough

synopsis: it's a habit they picked up from travelling together. every so often, astarion came to tav at night. it turned into something that he needs sometimes, even if he'd really rather not admit it. instead of lying in his old bunk, astarion chooses not to be alone.

an excerpt of "'cause my love (is mine, all mine)"

word count: 1203

pairing: astarion/tav

other tags: f!reader, bed sharing, tooth-rotting fluff, hurt/comfort, non-sexual intimacy, romantic tension, late night conversations, friends to lovers, song inspo: where do i begin by Egg

ao3: here

concept: bed sharing

At night, Astarion lies in his old bunk. It’s rough, grating, and it creaks every time he shifts, and he’s pretty sure he couldn’t enter trance even if he tried. It’s telling that he would rather lay on a bedroll laid over hard rock than ‘his’ own bed, but the last time he laid in this bed, he was still a slave. Just Cazador’s spawn.

Somehow, it feels even emptier than back then. He doesn't have Petras sleeping in the top bunk, snoring loud enough for him to kick the mattress above. He doesn't have Dalyria in the bunk beside him, hiding a light underneath her sheets while she dove her research into the next topic. There isn't Leon in the corner, whispering sweet comforts to his little girl, Victoria. It’s too quiet all on his own.

Then, even with his new companions, he can't hear Gale patronizing Wyll about this or that kind of magic, he can't hear Karlach playing with Scratch or the Owlbear, and there is no occasional thump of Lae’zel’s late-night training. He had gotten used to all of it as some kind of white noise for the next dawn.

Besides, he thinks, he should get used to his nocturnal schedule again, so staying awake wouldn’t be too bad. It would keep the nightmares away, at least. He had enough of Cazador. He thinks of Tav, who he hopes is sleeping peacefully away.

In the dark, he has to confront the reality that he and Tav are worlds apart. He wonders if she’ll be able to adapt to this schedule.

The door to the Favoured Spawn room opens, the room that Tav had taken, with a quiet creak that only Astarion would hear. Then, the mattress dips, and a hesitant arm wraps around her waist and pulls Tav in as someone nestles in close.

“Mm… still awake, Star?” She mutters, though he’s more surprised to hear that she’s still awake.

“Yes.” Astarion replies in a whisper, because it feels like the night calls for whispers, even when the entire palace is empty.

It’s a habit they picked up from travelling together. Every so often, Astarion came to Tav to sleep. Tav knows that it first started after he first drank from her and she found herself exhausted enough to slip unconscious; but it turned into something that he needs sometimes, even though he’d really rather not admit it. Tav thought it would end after Astarion made it clear that he wasn’t ready for a relationship, and she decided to be friends, rather than lovers. It seemed to be what he needed at the time, but she also knows that this—whatever this is, lying in bed together, in the dark, holding each other and whispering—isn’t really something friends do. Astarion has never had any friends, but even he suspects this is something that is beyond friendship.

But this isn’t sexual, either. He can't think of a single conquest who he had done this with because this felt too vulnerable. This felt like a different reality, reframing what it meant to find comfort in the dark.

With a sigh, Tav turns around to face Astarion. He sees her eyes, heavy-lidded with sleep, and he brushes some hair out of her face. It’s never as awkward as it should be.

“I’m not sure if I’m ready to face them.” Astarion whispers, truthful and defeated, because holding Tav in the darkness brings about a whole different world around him; one where he can tell Tav anything.

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to, Star.” She says, and it does something to his chest when she whispers his nickname in that tone, with that softness of sleep tinging her voice.

Astarion huffs out a whisper of a laugh. “I do want to. They’re… something like family, after all. They’re the closest thing I have to love.”

“I love you,” she protests, her voice still quiet. He knows this is not what friends do. They are in bed holding each other, now declaring love for each other, in the comfort of darkness. Astarion has never had anyone he had been this intimate with, even in the throes of passion, and he feels that he should think more about what this means.

“Fine, then. They’re the closest thing, other than you.” He drawls affectionately, feeling a tug at his lips even as he rolls his eyes. “But still, they’re not like you. I’m not like you. I can’t be good like you, and I’m afraid they know that. It feels like I’ll have to solve all of this world’s problems to be worthy of forgiveness, and even then, they would be right not to give it to me. They might never forgive me.”

“Then they’d be fools, the lot of them.” She says, and though she still sounds asleep, her eyes look at him with a sincerity he knows. If there’s one consistency about Tav’s behaviour, it’s that she has no patience for fools, and he can’t help but laugh.

A silence passes through them for a moment. “Do you think I’m evil?”

“No.” She says. “Even I’m not nearly as good as you think I am. Out of the two of us, you’re far more special. You make me think anything is possible.”

It’s odd because he can imagine saying the exact same thing to her. He wonders if she was just reading his thoughts and saying the words out loud, and if it was some sort of byproduct left by the mind-reading tadpole. But then again, he can’t at all understand why she would think he was special, and if they did still have the tadpoles, he would wish to see himself through her eyes. He wants to see what she sees in him—this brave, dashing, kind, supportive, heroic man, capable of love and goodness.

He wonders what would happen if he kissed her. 

Not that he was particularly sexually attracted to her, though he admits that objectively, she is attractive. He has a working pair of eyes and a good sense of taste, after all. And honestly, he doesn’t even know if she’s attracted to him—he thinks she might be, because Astarion hadn’t met many people who weren’t, but she also never asked him for anything sexual. Even their first night together, he always wondered if she had truly wanted it, or if he was just taking advantage of their desperate, life-or-death situation. All her intimacy seemed strictly… well, not exactly platonic, but not sexual, either. And it didn’t feel quite romantic, either.

But he wonders what she would do. What might she see? What might she feel?

He compromises by resting the crown of his head on hers, and quietly, he whispers, “Thank you for loving me.”

“Of course I would.” She replies, sounding fond, before closing her eyes. He can tell that sleep is about to take her again as she sighs, “Don’t worry about who you think you’ve got to be. Just be Astarion. It’s good enough.”

Her breaths even out, and he does his best to match her, taking in the air she exhales. He runs fingers through her hair again as she drifts to sleep.

[black-quadrant]

fandom internet is such an unsafe and unkind environment these days. it's so sad to watch the gap between fans grow wider and wider. the fear of interacting becomes very real because you don't know who to trust anymore and who's going to try to ruin your reputation or worse.

[decolonize-the-everything]

Had a tik tok in my Facebook memories that said something about how with anti-maskers it ultimately comes down to them perceiving doing things for others as weakness since they grew up in a hyper-individulistic society. It's them exerting autonomy and refusing to stop under peer pressure, largely just for the sake of fighting something since that's a strength. A value. "I don't let others tell me what to do because I can't be controlled"

Made me think that everyone else bought into the same type of individualistic rhetoric through pop psychology: having "good" boundaries means never needing others and always putting yourself before everyone else regardless of circumstance and especially if they make you feel any feeling you don't want to feel. ...Like guilty for not caring enough to keep wearing a mask in 2023. That's a strength. A value. "I don't let others tell me what to do because I love myself"

The conclusion here being: being needed/needing others is a threat to your autonomy which is a Value to protect.

And when you really think about it applies to more than masking; supporting BIPOC, watching the news, showing up to protests, etc.

"I'm already depressed, I can't handle it. I'm watching out for my own mental health by not participating"

"it's all woke which makes me feel like a bad person cuz Im a bigot so I only watch what validates my bias"

And personally I get a little suspicious when two sides defined by their opposite social values come to the same social conclusion.

You should too. This rhetoric is holding us back. Individualism is holding us back. People need people. It's not toxic or abusive or manipulative to admit that, no matter how much society has tried to make you believe otherwise.

Oppressed people needing allies and your friends who need help moving aren't violating your boundaries or "bad for your mental health" just because You don't want to show up AND not feel bad about it.

Can the generation that grew up screaming "I don't know how to teach you that you should care about other people" at boomers please stand up and take a heaping tablespoon of your own medicine.

And then show gen z how to swallow it because growing up in the social climate we millennials curated online hasn't exactly inspired feelings of confidence in others or the future.

Both of which we still care about right? We still care about other people and the future? Not just ourselves?

Just want to confirm that we haven't gone Full Boomer as a collective yet cuz at this rate I wouldn't be surprised if someone responded saying that being expected to care about their friends is akin communist dictatorship

And could this be a Red Scare Psyop meant to discourage you from finding community, collectivism, and mutual aid in a time where your hyper-individulistic behavior and beliefs are being exploited for record breaking profits in the name of capitalism?

[tariah23]

If anyone of you guys live in the Chicago Halstad areas, food is being passed out!!! All you need to do is simply walk up!

[imissjensi]

i think saiki k and sophie foster would appreciate each others presence

[thedemonscrawler]

Ruin is at his breaking point from the recent stress, and corners Eclipse with an unusual request.

I figured I should actually link this here qwq Just me making Ruin and Eclipse hug because they both desperately need some comfort-- now with additional chapters!

[youredreamingofroo]

dont mind me i just wanna be a """""little""""" sappy,,,

I love my mutuals. I love my mutuals whom I talk to on discord or through tumblr (msgs/cmts). I love my mutuals who I talk to or reply to through tags on posts. I love my mutuals who I talk to every once in a while. I love my mutuals who I just never talk to. I love my mutuals who I don't talk to. who never interact with me, but still choose to be my mutual. I love my mutuals who aren't restricted to one fandom, one interest. I love my mutuals who are restricted/choose to be restricted to one fandom/interest. I love my mutuals who I can recognize just based on their sims/art style. I love my mutuals who I can recognize based on their rendering and editing style. I love my mutuals who I recognize almost instantly based on their name. I love my mutuals who I recognize almost instantly based on their pfp/theme. I love my mutuals who I recognize almost instantly based on their typing/texting/speech. I love my mutuals who I recognize almost instantly based on how they reblog (no tags/typing out as many tags as possible). I love my mutuals who I share a fandom/interest with. I love my mutuals who I don't share a fandom/interest with. I love seeing my mutuals post about their interests, I love seeing you guys post about anything, I love seeing your posts, I love seeing what your interested in, even if I don't know or aren't interested in the media, I still love your posts about that interest, I love when you post so much about media it makes me piece together the storyline, or makes me want to watch the media. I love seeing your art, sims and/or not sims, I love seeing you express yourselves, I love seeing how you guys post stuff, I love how I can tell who's post is who's based on how they caption their posts. I love seeing you guys in my notifs, I love seeing what posts of mine you reblog, I love seeing what you guys have to say in the tags, or even if you don't put tags, I just love seeing you guys in my notifs. I appreciate you all. I appreciate those who reach out to me so we can talk more. I appreciate those who dont reach out to me. I appreciate those who tag me in tag games or in something that reminds you of me. I appreciate those who don't tag me in tag games or the like. I appreciate those who send me asks, whether for an ask game, a question, or just wanting to say something to me (regardless of if you send that ask on or off anon). I appreciate those who don't send me asks. I appreciate those who ONLY send anon asks. I appreciate those who never send anon asks. I appreciate those who are always online. I appreciate those who are sometimes online. I appreciate those who only check tumblr once a day. I appreciate those who haven't even been active in 3 days. I appreciate those who haven't been active in 3 months. I appreciate all my mutuals. I love you guys, you are all so amazing, strong, creative, talented, inspiring, admirable and humorous people, you all really truly deserve anything and everything wonderful in life, I love being mutuals with you and I truly TRULY from the bottom of my heart appreciate you, it really does make me happy when I see you guys on my dash, or when I see you in my notifs. Thank you and good night :') <3333

[sga-owns-my-soul]

befriending tumblr mutuals is so weird bc it's like wow i love this blog i love what they post i love the content they create and then suddenly they're just ?????? talking to you???? about the stuff they create???? and getting your thoughts on things????

and it's like when did i go from fangirling over this blog to being friends with this person

anyways i love tumblr

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

it's less us adopting you and more like a-yuan where you ran up to us in a busy marketplace (tumblr tags/dashboard) and latched onto our legs with vengeance and adopted us into your chaos (but like in a good way)

Mutually Assured Adoption. We will take to the town and cause havoc

[l-cereta]

Unethical Poll

[dead-core]

craving validation from exactly the wrong person. slay

[jackassnews]

idk anything about this guy

[sketch-twentytwo]

This is Melvin Sneedly, Harold Hutchins, and George Beard. Melvin is the kid on the left with goggles and freckles. Harold is the one in the middle with the T-shirt and bad hair cut. George is the one on the, right with the tie and flat top. Remember that now.

That’s the boys!

Aside from Melvin’s loss of bowtie, I don’t see them changing their attire too much in this AU. Also I changed my mind, George and Melvin would be rivals but both boys would still be independent pains in Krupp’s side.

George’s resistance to authority is because the school system hinders creativity and student imagination. Melvin’s defiance to authority is because he thinks he knows better than the administration and believes they hinder him, specifically. Harold agrees with both sides to an extent, resulting in him being totally on board with both parties' elaborate plans, at least unless they quarrel.

I see Harold being the unifying front for each faction: Melvin would be his best friend from kindergarten and George would be an ally he spends time with whenever he gets detention (either that or George bumps into Harold and recruits him in secret to join his student cause against Krupp).

————

I think the Authority-Event Horizon for Melvin occurs after he makes friends with Harold. He’d bear witness to the harassment Harold suffers at the hands of the school as well as the administration’s lack of handling it. It’d break his belief that the faculty (and adults for that matter) know best, and feed into his desire to make things better with his intellect.

RR!Melvin mostly follows the rules, mostly because it's convenient, and he rarely results to tattling, as he doesn't see it as useful anymore. Admin doesn't help the students, therefore they cannot exhibit proper justice.

————

When Melvin and George butt heads it's because they view each other as wasted potential. George thinks Melvin could use his inventions to help students in a more useful manner, such as overthrowing the principle or whatever. Melvin thinks George's antics are stupid and a waste of time. Harold really wants his two friends to get along, but he's a bit to timid to pull anything like that off.

Don't you worry, though, I have plans for these three in this AU....

Coming soon!