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#feeling : crushed
sonicfanj · 2 years
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You know, [tumblr] has never really been a place where my work gets a lot of attention, but it still mortifies me that even my sloppiest most unrefined drawings can garner far more attention than the writing I pour my heart and soul into. I guess that's just [tumblr] though.
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wasabi-gumdrop · 10 days
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local ladies man’s signature move totally useless against autistic monster enthusiast. more on Kabru’s fumble era at 6
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hhhhunty · 27 days
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How funny that she never considered that.
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skellydun · 6 months
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who wants to lay on top of me like a weighted blanket and fix me
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wolkenleere · 9 months
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And I wondered what it was like to be chosen. I was never chosen. I was a maybe, a probably, sometimes even a definitely but never the one, never the chosen one.
Unknown
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makkarisbelova · 6 months
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EVERYBODY MOVED ON I, I STAYED THERE DUST COLLECTED ON MY PINNED-UP HAIR THEY EXPECTED ME TO FIND SOMEWHERE SOME PERSPECTIVE BUT I SAT AND STARED RIGHT WHERE YOU LEEEEEFT MEEEEE YOU LEFT ME NO, YOU LEFT ME NO, YOU LEFT ME NO CHOICE BUT TO STAY HERE FOREVER
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beybuniki · 3 months
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the boys of class 1A love to go to kirishima for advice
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hairmetal666 · 3 months
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They start kissing on stage as a joke.
The night before the first time, they're at an afterparty, pounding shots, and Eddie is reading aloud a piece that just came out in Rolling Stone. "'One of the most noteworthy parts of Munson and Harrington's unlikely pairing is their chemistry on stage. It's like these two men--one on his way to being the latest metal god, the other an indie rock wunderkind--are two parts of one musical whole. Their singing, their playing, even their bodies twine and flow with assuredness; where one goes, the other follows without question. They share a single brain-cell and that cell is music'."
Steve giggles, pours some more Grey Goose into the glass. "If they say that now, could you imagine what would happen if we, like, kissed on stage or something."
"What the fuck, Harrington?" Eddie splutters, having just thrown a drink back.
"I don't know, other bands do it!"
Eddie snorts. "I'm cutting you off." He reaches for the bottle and the suggestion is forgotten for wrestling over the liquor.
Steve barely remembers it in the morning. Doesn't think about it at all as he gets ready to go out on stage.
They're playing one of the instrumental breakdowns when it happens. They're leaning into each other, Eddie smiling over his shoulder at him, their eyes locked, bodies moving together. "You wanna?" Eddie mouths at him.
Steve nods before the question actually registers and by then Eddie's warm, soft mouth is against his and he just-- completely forgets what he's doing. His hands still on the guitar strings, and he melts a little, going completely boneless when Eddie grips the back of his head, pulls him deeper into the kiss. t's over almost as quickly as it started, Eddie pulling away and swirling to the mic to start the next verse.
The kiss sinks into Steve's bones, and that's before it becomes a regular feature of their performances. After that night, they're never at the same time during the show, all initiated by Eddie, all over before he can catch his breath; each one chaste and surrounded by people but somehow more intimate than any make out.
He and Eddie, they're friends, bandmates, collaborators. They've known each other since they first started out, forging an immediate connection with they stumbled upon each other hiding out in the garden at some industry bigwig's party. And as much as he loved his friend, never once in that time had Steve considered wanting Eddie.
But now, now he falls asleep with the ghost of Eddie on his lips, goes into each show with a thrum of anticipation, catches himself thinking how beautiful his friend is when he's all rumpled and disheveled from a night in the tour bus bunks.
They've always been easy with physical affection, but once the kissing starts they're constantly in each other's space, idly playing with hair, laying across laps, heads on shoulders, twisting together on the tour bus couch. Steve is ruined with every touch, every moment; he can't get enough.
The first time Eddie uses tongue destroys every last piece of Steve's composure. They've added a new song to the setlist, a remixed version of Eddie's hit "Prince Charming". It's hard, heavy, sexy, one of Steve's favorites. And in the middle of it, right in the middle, Eddie shoves him against a low platform, kisses him like he's trying to own him, tongues twining eager and wet and full of sinful promise. It's like that every show after, Eddie kissing him deep and thorough, like he's trying to lick up every drop of Steve.
He is, unquestionably, fucked. Unquestionably falling. Can't properly fathom how he'd gotten himself here, desperate for Eddie's kiss, as performative as it may be.
They're packing up equipment after a show. Eddie's hair is piled in a messy bun and Steve is trying not to blatantly stare at the curve of his neck, the stray curls against his pale skin. Eddie's gesturing at something, says, "Can you grab those cords, swee--Steve?" He hands them over without thought, notices that Eddie's face is shining red. He's called away to deal with packing the guitars, forgets all about it, but at their next show, Eddie doesn't kiss him.
They don't talk about it.
Eddie doesn't try to kiss him again.
A week after Eddie stops the kiss, they have a night off between shows. He needs to get out of his head, goes out with Robin. He gets back fairly early, but all the lights are off in the bus. It makes him panic in a way it shouldn't; they've always done their own things. Still, he rushes on board, flips on the lights, his absurd heart beating too hard.
Eddie is curled up on the couch, face pressed to the pillows and covered with his hands. The panic kicks up a notch.
"Eddie?" He steps closer, slowly reaching out to grip Eddie's shoulder.
He jerks upright, earbuds slipping free, phone sliding down his hip. "Steve?"
His face is wet, tears actively slipping free from his eyes as Steve watches.
"What happened? Are you hurt?" His hands flutter around Eddie's arms and face, searching for bruises or wounds.
"I'm fine, Harrington," he chokes out. "Though you were out with Robin?"
"Yeah, I was, but Chrissy called. You know how useless she gets. But that doesn't--you--you're crying. What's wrong?"
Eddie's smile is a wobbly little thing, refusing to stick on his face. "Oh, you know, the usual. Fell for the wrong guy."
Steve forces down the gut churning hurt at hearing that Eddie's in love with someone, intent on comforting his friend. He tries to slip his arm around Eddie's shoulders, but Eddie shrugs him off. It jostles Eddie's phone again, slipping it toward Steve and activating the screen. He has a split second where he's looking at the cover of his own first album, before Eddie's snatching it out of reach, scrambling up from the couch.
"I'm fine." He swipes his sleeve over his face. "It's nothing."
And Steve is putting it all together, the being in love and listening to Steve's music, the kissing and how it ended.--
"Eddie." He sounds all wrong, choked and garbled.
Eddie doesn't turn around, is stuffing his feet into his boots. "I'm--I gotta go clear my head."
He walks towards the door and Steve just--"I've been obsessed with you since the first kiss," he says. Eddie stops, hand curled against the door. "We've been friends all this time and I didn't--I never realized. And then we kissed and--it's all I've been able to think about."
Eddie turns then, facing him, expression unreadable."Steve, what are you--"
"I love you. I'm in love with you." It comes out fast, all jumbled, but he can't stand Eddie leaving, not now.
"You--?" Eddie blinks, bites his lip. "That's not possible."
Steve smiles, can't help it. "It is, though. Turns out, I can't get enough."
Their eyes lock; neither speaks. Steve's heart pounds so hard it might spring free of his chest. Eddie moves first, crosses the small distance between them to pull Steve into his arms.
It's not a kiss, but Steve buries his face against Eddie's neck, breathing him in, feeling the echo to the pound of his own heart. "How long?" Steve asks.
Eddie's soft laugh vibrates through him. "Since I saw you walking in that garden and thought, 'jesus christ, Prince Charming is real'."
Steve pulls away to stare at Eddie in disbelief. "But that's--your--the song?"
"They're kinda all about you, Stevie. But that one most of all." Eddie whispers. His eyes glisten.
"Fuck, Eddie." He doesn't mean to whine, but he's not in control of his voice anymore. "I'm sorry I didn't--" He shakes his head. "I'm all yours, Ed. Whatever you want."
Eddie's thumb catches against Steve's bottom lips, eyes transfixed on his mouth. "Everything, sweetheart. I want it all."
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dapper-lil-arts · 3 months
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That joke on across the spiderverse reminded me so much of Trixie. Girl refuses to accept herself as a C-tier Twilight opponent lmao
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danggerine · 6 months
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going insane thinking about the harrow and palamedes friendship. harrow, who has never met another necromancer her age forming a bizarro 3D chess rivalry while pal worries about her safety at every possible turn. harrow, who is up to her eyebrows in paranoia and secrecy, trusting the sixth house with gideon unconscious and hurt, letting them into the ninth house quarters unsupervised. if “i cannot conceive of a universe without you in it” is goth for i love you, “death first to vultures and scavengers” has got to be goth for i love you (platonic). pal’s first reaction when harrow comes into his bubble in the river is to scoop her up in a hug, and at this point she doesn’t remember anything about him because cutting out all her memories of gideon is impossible without cutting out memories of the sixth, but she still makes him a skelehand to inhabit anyway. when harrow’s memories are finally whole, she tells dulcinea she couldn’t face pal knowing that his pen pal girlfriend died on her account, but the next time she “faces” him, palamades’s soul is in someone else’s body and harrow’s body is full of nona’s soul. he spends six months protecting and caring for harrow’s body (and nona obv), believing in the possibility of bringing her back to it the same way cam believed in him. “god, do you know i miss harrow terribly.” and by the time harrow comes back to her body at the very end of ntn, pal is gone forever, fully pauled. the last time harrow and palamades see each other as their complete selves is in canaan house, alive and unlyctored. two of the smartest and loneliest people in the solar system meet each other in the worst of circumstances and spend the rest of the story dancing around each other as fragments of themselves, trying to care about each other in the interim but never fully meeting like they did the first time. a friendship made almost entirely of missing the other person. “do you know i miss harrow terribly.” god. i need to lie down
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chinchilla-clown · 12 days
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hi dca fandom i make an offering after lurking for years what if one-sided crush but its not dca thats crushing hard
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 4 months
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Lap Pillow
[First] Prev <–-> Next
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selfhealingmoments · 10 months
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totally-sapphic-posts · 8 months
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Imagine coming home after a long day and they just hug you. They hug you in a way that melts all the tension from your muscles, and makes the stresses of the day fade into some distant memory. It’s one of those hugs you feel like you could fall asleep in, but you don’t want to because you want to savor every ounce of it even though you know you’ll get a million more of them
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thebluemoonmotelworld · 2 months
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i need to sit on his lap while he talk to me about things i don’t know
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geezmarty · 5 months
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durge + her favourite sweeties <3
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