#they derange me every time i think about them

[rinabin]

arcade

the door chimes as you and ningning enter the arcade. the place is quaint but decorated with old video game posters and machines giving it personality. scanning the room for your friends, you spot sohee and seunghan immersed in the pinball machine. as the two of you walk over to them, ningning slows down. “isn’t that wonbin and shotaro?” she questions, looking towards to the guys hovering over another machine as you follow her gaze. seeing wonbin in person again, you internally cringe as you’re reminded of your last interaction. determined to make up for the horrific first impression, you begin to walk over to the unfamiliar guys instead. “come on, let’s go say hi.”

by the time you make it over to the boys, their game has ended, relieving you of the awkwardness of hovering around and waiting. feeling a tap on his shoulder, wonbin turns around, confused, until his big brown eyes meet yours. “hi,” you say, extending a hand and giving him a small smile. “i told u i’d be normal the next time we met.” as wonbin returns your handshake, he chuckles out, “that you did. hi again.” letting go of his hand, you look over to shotaro. “you’re shotaro, i presume?” “mhm,” he responds with a big smile, “but you can call me taro. shotaro is too formal.” nodding your head, you look over to ningning as you introduce her. ningning compliments them on their outfits, prompting the guys to thank her. 

not wanting the conversation to stall, you ask wonbin and shotaro what they were playing before you and ningning got there. as wonbin opens his mouth to answer, he gets interrupted by seunghan tackling you in a hug. “YNNNNNN.” stumbling back, you let out a giggle as you hug seunghan back. “what’s with this greeting?” letting go of you, seunghan grins and shrugs, saying it was just cause, as he begins to tackle ningning next. looking over to wonbin, now standing alone watching the scene unfold, you give him a smile, asking where shotaro went. pointing over to sohee and shotaro, “sohee stole him”, wonbin responds with a gentle smile. as you look over at shotaro and sohee, there is only one thought running through your head: wonbin has a really pretty smile. fuck.

just as the implications of the thought begin to consume you, the rest of your friends roll into the arcade. minjeong grabs your arm, pulling you toward the pac-man machine, saving you from your deranged brain as you wave bye to wonbin.

plopping down on the empty couch in the lounge, you open your phone and scroll for a few minutes until you feel another presence next to you. looking over to the seat beside you, you see wonbin. “we meet again. what are you doing here by yourself?” he breathes out. placing your phone in your lap, you mutter, “eunseok and sohee have beat me in practically every game in here. there’s nothing for me but humiliation waiting out there.” wonbin raises his eyebrows. “not a gamer?” you scoff. “the only game i’ve ever played is bad ice-cream when i was 8. i don’t know why i agreed to this hangout.” wonbin hums in response as he looks out into space. a comfortable silence falls over the two of you as you begin scrolling on your phone again. 

after a couple of moments, you feel wonbin get up. “come on, let’s go.” looking up at him from your phone, you see him gesturing you to get up. you tilt your head and look around in confusion before asking if he’s talking to you.“yes, you. get up. i’m gonna teach you how to play some games. i can’t let eunseok walk around with a bigger ego than he already has,” wonbin smirks, nodding his head toward the games. you let out a snort at the comment. still sitting, fiddling with your phone, you let a moment pass as you think about it. with a sigh, you place your phone into your pocket. “you’re right. the only person who should have a big ego around here is me.” wonbin shakes his head in amusement as he begins to walk back into the gaming section, and you follow behind him.

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a/n: first written part, tell me what you guys think... also i think arcade dates are some of the cutest type of dates who agree?

taglist [send an ask or comment to be added] : @antosaurius @jkeydiary @cherrytaesan

[cybervigilante]

blah blah blah i’m obsessed with them blah blah but honestly for him to turn down linda park for LINDA PARK ... i’m gonna scream he wants his linda, he doesn’t want anyone else i @lightsped​

[symbiotic-slime]

it’s so funny going into monsterfucker spaces and seeing people argue about whether Venom is a tame monster crush or not and I think I figured out why ppl argue about it. I think there’s two separate levels to liking Venom and people just don’t specify which one they’re talking about

the first is what most people think of: you want Venom when they’re in a separate host and in their more humanoid form. they look like just a really tall guy, and you’ve got some monster traits involved but not quite as many as level two. this is the tame level.

the second level is when you want to be their host. you’re pulling an eddie brock— you’re fucking the slime that lives inside of you and cannot take on a humanoid form outside of yourself. it’s just a mass of black goop that lives in your organs and speaks to you in your head. this is why some people would consider Venom a more extreme monster crush

[thatwitchrevan]

also you can't split hairs about what form the thought takes bc sometimes intrusive thoughts are vivid flashes that the mind is morbidly drawn to rather than an anxiety spiral, but those are still intrusive and the moral rational part of your brain reacts with anxiety and disgust, which can often make the thought just harder to shake.

you don't need to draw a moral difference between 'I had a vague/abstract obsessive fear about hurting someone while I was holding a knife' and 'I vividly imagined/fantasized stabbing someone while I was holding a knife' because intrusive thoughts do take that form and thought crime isn't real and the individual's thoughts and reaction to them are their own.

This isn't to say there aren't violent fantasies that aren't intrusive thoughts OR that it's somehow a crime to have violent fantasies if they're not a symptom of anxiety or ocd or similar, frankly whatever goes on in anyone's head is only the business of them and who they share it with, and the privacy and privilege of thought belongs to everyone.

But in discussion about intrusive thoughts specifically I think it's always worth being aware that they can be quite intense, specific, strong, etc and this does not make them less intrusive, in fact it often makes them worse to deal with.

Bottom line I think is if someone is vulnerable enough to share their thoughts with you you have very little business judging them unless they are turning those thoughts into beliefs, action, treatment of others, something material. And especially be compassionate to people who are distressed by their own thoughts in any way.

[meetthesoldier]

do you ever get so insane about something you run out of ways to talk about it without resorting to an absolute gut punch of a sentence. anyways nortnaib are kismeses

[todayisafridaynight]

Mutual on Twitter was talking about Daigo instinctively feeling the need to put the pieces of Mine's ruined life back together and make him feel at ease... Is That Not The Appeal Of AraSawa As Well... like they might not know the depth of what their lives were like before in full but surely there are some details safe to share and there's very little that wouldn't sound bleak... but it's also a MineDai But To The Left sort of moment because Mine has always felt he deserves basic human decency, even if he has to earn it, but that's never been the case for Jo... [SORRY I'LL GET TO PENDING RESPONSES I'VE JUST BEEN LOST IN THE SAUCE for better or worse it feels wrong not to write in every day at this point 😭😭😭]

i remember telling my twitter mutual that arasawa was minedai but with dads and the way a light bulb seemed to go off for her was just perfect LMAO

but on the real arasawa IS a lot like minedai when it comes to some themes, and moreover they still maintain their individuality (aside from the dad aspect LMAO) in the parties involved, ESPECIALLY mine and jo

it's weird to explain, but daigo, in a sense, was an 'end goal' for mine. maybe not in THAT way, but just having his comradery was a sample of the thing he'd been striving for his whole life. ergo, mine joins the yakuza specifically due to interest in daigo, and decides to stay and commit himself to it because of daigo- and as you said, mine understands his worth and wants his efforts to be reciprocated. the problem is that he's not exactly sociable..

inversely, arakawa was, on the contrary, an accident for jo: sure, he swore up in order to be closer to his son. but now By The Fate Of The Cruel Universe jo's found himself becoming attached to arakawa too, whether he wholly admits it or not. A Cruel Fate not only in that jo undoubtedly doesn't believe he'd be deserving of something special with arakawa, but that he also shouldn't pursue something special with arakawa considering their positions in the clan (also masato would probably throw a fit and he can't be upsetting his baby boy </3)

BUT THIS IS THE SIMILARITY OF DAIGO AND ARAKAWA RIGHT so often comparing mine and jo, i never touch on how the other two relate... but of course with them, daigo and arakawa try to become closer to mine and jo (evidently we see daigo have a little more success on account of rgg refusing to let arakawa and jo be in a room together for more than five minutes). its unfortunate that we don't get to hear much of arakawa's thoughts on jo, but if it's anything like daigo and his concern over mine (i.e. worrying that mine is only concerned with money/only sees value in himself through his wealth, wanting to be closer to him and get rid of the 'stiffness' between them) i imagine he harbors similar sentiment (and being a Bonafide Father instead of a proverbial one like daigo, i wouldn't be surprised if he could be more anxious/concerned over jo, especially considering the- albeit small- age gap absent in minedai).

[skitskatdacat63]

Love to go back to my desk once I've woken up and see whatever weird thing I was working on at like 5 am. This one I think is genuinely interesting but also would look so deranged to anyone else 😭 I was writing a color coded guide to how I group drivers in my head with examples with different grids(i.e. how the demographics change) and now I want to write one for all of the 2000-now grids. Completely normal behavior what are you talking about

[bighitfics]

recent jungkook fanfics that you should read for your own sanity.

(a recommendation for all the girlies who miss him like crazy!)

one rule by @/jasminefanfics on youtube

— dark romance, mean and morally ambiguous jungkook, hostage au, enemies to lovers, smut, love triangle (but it’s just a deranged schizophrenic being the ‘bone in a kebab’ for the gorgeous couple)

— this is ART. this is true unleashed YEARNING. dark ROMANCE done right, literally the perfect read for winter! this is my absolute fav read of this year 🫦

bonded by @borathae

— werewolves au, forced marriage au, childhood besties to lovers, angst, romance, smut.

— will this queen ever stop producing art after art? she’s not capable of doing that, god this was such a good read, I’m still not over this, THIS IS MY SHEYLA FR! (iyykyk) they’re everything to me gawd 🥺

mon révé by @sweetcarrotsandroses97

— archdeacon jungkook, forbidden love, age gap, romani character reader, dark romance.

— I’ve never read something so beautifully, perfectly executed, every scene she wrote is plastered into my brain, the amount of times i think about this fic is not normal, I’m desperately awaiting the new chapters 😔✋🏼

the love prognosis by @awrkive

— friends to lovers (the og), medical au, unrequited love, roommates trope.

— nobody gets them like I do fr! my precious ship! 🥺😻🤲🏼 i loved how down bad he was for her from the beginning, we love a man who worships the ground his woman walks on LIKE AHHHH the author executed the one sided pining from jungkook so well! THE ANGST IS DELICIOUS IN THIS.

christmas & chill series by @girlygguk & @lovieku

— special xmas edition, jungkook and reader.

— the way I’m about to eat this up. u guys aren’t ready for the obnoxious amount of times I’m gonna be crying ab this whole series on my blog, oh lord have mercy on me, this is so brilliant oh how i wanna kiss their hands for this, SUCH DIVAS BOTH OF THEM 🫦

infrunami by @kooktrash

— friends to lovers, mutual pinning, smut, angst.

— boom shakalaka yes gawd! after I completed reading this fic, i took a moment to myself, clapped and took a lap around my bedroom, then I also did a 7 min standing ovation, this deserves more hype ngl.

burning hour by @jungqkook

— established relationship, smut, exhibitionism.

— the amount of times i’ve re read this is embarrassing but it is that LEVEL of good, oh god when is it my turn to experience something like this?

catch twenty-two by @miraclemaven on wattpad

— forbidden romance, age gap, smut, older reader & younger jungkook, angst.

— im so hooked into this story, even though i haven’t started reading properly, this is a promising one, with really good writing.

chained up by @jikookie17

— obsessed addicted jungkook (my jam), smut, angst, fluff.

— reading this made me feel like im watching a melodramatic story of two idiots who literally can’t live without each other, its a cute lighthearted read, 100% recommend!

THE END OF TODAY’S LIST.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

⠀⠀ hope the girlies like it ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

[loverboybrightsideghost]

.

[solarbird]

For years now, I have been railing against the Republican Party as a literal – literal – Party of Plague. In these closing days of the campaign, they have quadrupled back down on this in ways that will kill millions of Americans.

Not “might.” Will.

Appointing RFK, Jr. as czar of public health and letting him “go wild” will kill millions. Again, not might: will. Not immediately, no, but over time. Trump himself is utterly refusing to promise he and his party won’t ban vaccines and said on Sunday that RFK Jr.’s pledge to eliminate fluoridation of water on day one “sounds OK to me.”

If they do this and make it stick, millions will die. And an outsized number of them will be children.

Courtesy McNadoMD on Mastodon, here are a few of the diseases mass vaccination eliminated from American life, and which banning vaccination will bring back, along with some of their symptoms and progression paths.Howdy folks! Friendly neighborhood ER doc here. Did you know that Trump’s folks want to take vaccines off of the market? That means you can’t get a shot even if you want one. Did you know that the tetanus shot is a vaccine? If you want your kids to be safe from lockjaw (caused by tetanus), you want vaccines to be available. You know what else is a vaccine? Rabies shots. If a rabid dog or bat bites your kid, do you want your kid to be able to be treated before they die of rabies?

Lockjaw and rabies:

Diphtheria:

Whooping cough:

Polio:

You get the idea, right?

These aren’t the only ones. These are just a few of those less often mentioned in these modern times, because people have forgot they exist.

When I say the Republican Party is a Party of Plague, when I say it is a goddamn death cult, I mean every single one of those words in every way you might think.

They are promising economic ruin and they are promising ethnic purges and now they are promising mass death of children.

All while killing pregnant people for their vile sense of domination, of course. Let us never forget that, since their families certainly won’t.

One of the things their apologists keep saying is that “Trump doesn’t mean it” and “Trump won’t do it,” and “That’s just Trump being Trump,” and they talk about “Trump derangement syndrome,” and say that we’re stupid for believing what their candidate fucking says he’ll do, and meanwhile, they get enraged about shit they completely make up about us and the candidates who are with us.

We react to things their candidates promise. They react to shit they make up wholesale about us. We are not the fucking same.

If only the political press would catch on to that fact.

The very last day of a campaign is a pretty lousy time to bring up another topic, even if it’s not really new. But this is, again, so murderously psychotic that I can’t not bring it back up.

Maybe you can bring it up, too, on this final day of this hellish and evil campaign, this Monday, November 4th, 2024.

Zero days remain.

It is Lastday.

[partywithponies]

Listen. Beloveds. I say this gently. But you have got to stop using the "oh yeah? you think it's fine to ship this? trying telling your family members and coworkers about your ship and see how they react 😤" argument in your shipping discourse.

You do realise that to most normies who have never been in fandom, all shipping is deranged behaviour, right? You know this, right?? You do know that even if your ship is the most wholesome and unproblematic thing possible, if you go up to your Great Auntie Barbara or Gary From I.T. or whoever and are like "oh yeah one of my main hobbies? going online every single day without fail and talking to a bunch of strangers about how much these same two fictional characters should kiss. yeah I spend HOURS of my free time drawing them kissing and writing them kissing and editing footage of the show to appear more romantic too", there's a strong chance they are going to think you are unbelievably embarrassingly cringe at best and utterly insane and worth avoiding from now on at worst, right????

Please. Please don't encourage impressionable teens and young adults to think it's okay to bring up any fandom shit at the dinner table or in the staffroom unprompted without the danger of having real social repercussions. Please my loves you are stressing me out. Please promise me you don't do this. Oh baby no.

[mcdynamite]

Kissing has never done all that much for Steve, if he’s honest.

It's just not really something he's ever given much thought to before - the way someone kisses - despite the fact that he's locked lips with plenty of people. For him, kissing has always been something nice, but not particularly special. It's never been earth-shattering. Never taken his breath away, the way people talk about in movies and books. It's just a way to be closer to someone, and it's nice, but it's never anything more than that.

Then, Steve kisses Eddie for the first time, and suddenly he gets it.

They're high when it happens, laying side by side in Eddie's unmade bed while the weed sinks into their bones. Steve loves the way it seems to slow down the world around them - makes everything syrupy and sweet, so he feels every brush of Eddie's fingers against his own in every inch of his body as they pass the joint back and forth.

The casual contact makes him long for more, and when he's high, Steve just...gives into the longing. He lets himself drift closer until they're pressed together so closely that Eddie can hide his face in Steve's uncharacteristically messy hair when he's trying to cover up a snort of laughter in response to Steve's deranged weed-induced musings.

Tonight, they meander their way through a directionless conversation - as they so often do when they get high together - until the joint is so small it nearly singes their fingertips. When Eddie finally sits up to stamp it out in the ashtray on the bedside table, Steve tries not to miss the feeling of Eddie's body against his own too much, knowing it'll be back soon enough.

"I'm thinking of handing over the DM throne to Will for the next oneshot, after we finish this campaign," Eddie says, speech slow and thoughtful as he puts out the blunt. "Think he'll be good at it."

Steve just hums, eyes heavy-lidded, gaze fixed on the curls he wants so badly to run his fingers through, just to know what it feels like. He's high enough to not care about the consequences when he decides fuck it, and reaches out to feel the soft ringlets beneath his fingertips.

"You're good at it," he muses - a delayed response to Eddie's comment. If Eddie is bothered by the way Steve is carefully petting his hair, he doesn't show it. Instead, he turns back to look down at Steve with a soft smile that makes Steve's insides feel all gooey.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, a hint of a smirk overtaking the softness. "You ready to admit that you like watching me play my little nerd game, Harrington?"

Steve blames the quiet whine that escapes his throat on the weed, along with the way he honest-to-God pouts in response to Eddie's words. He tugs on a lock of Eddie's hair petulantly. "Don't like it when you call me that."

Eddie's face does something strange then, and Steve can't quite parse out what it means with the weed making his brain all foggy. He looks...surprised? Fond? Maybe both?

"Sorry, Stevie," he replies, teasing but somehow genuine at the same time. Steve smiles dopily, an expression that Eddie returns. "That better?"

Satisfied, Steve nods. Hums in affirmation. "Yeah. I like that one."

And it's true. Steve loves when Eddie calls him Stevie, because Eddie always sounds so fond when he does, and it makes Steve's heart feel too big for his chest.

"Oh, yeah?" Eddie asks, still grinning as he leans down until he's propped up on one elbow, hovering just over Steve on the bed. "What else do you want me to call you, hm? Stevie? Steve? M'lord?"

The last one makes Steve laugh and close his eyes, happy to bask in the sound of Eddie's voice as he floats along with their conversation.

"Sir Steven? Sweetheart?" Eddie continues, and Steve's heart jumps just a bit at the second one. Then, Eddie murmurs, "Baby?" 

And Steve's eyes fly open.

Steve stares at his friend with wide eyes - lips parted as a soft, punched-out oh escapes him - and it's weird, is the thing. Because Steve has been called baby before, lovingly by his grandmother when he was still a little boy causing mischief while his parents weren't watching, meanly by boys on the playground when he cried over something silly like a scraped knee…and when he got older, teasingly by the girls he took on dates.

It's not a new name for him, but it feels groundbreaking nonetheless.

Because the word sounds so much better coming from Eddie's mouth than anyone else's. It's soft, and fond, and knowing, and...

It's longing.

"Yeah,” Steve croaks. "Yeah."

"Which one? Sir Steven?" Eddie asks playfully, cocking his head to the side like a puppy. He grins maniacally when Steve huffs and shakes his head in disappointment. "No? Which one was it, then, that you liked the most?"

"Eddieeee," Steve complains, burying his flushed face into the pillow and avoiding his friend's gaze. "You know which one."

Eddie shakes his head in an almost scolding manner and Steve is convinced he must've moved closer, because Steve can feel Eddie's breath against his skin, and the air in the room feels about a hundred degrees hotter.

"Nuh-uh, Stevie," Eddie says, poking him playfully in the ribs. "You gotta tell me which one."

Steve hesitates, feeling more and more self-conscious by the second. He sort of wants to hide, but he also really wants Eddie to call him that again. It's probably thanks to his intoxicated brain that he allows himself to answer truthfully. "Baby," he murmurs, uncharacteristically shy.

"Yeah?" Eddie says, voice and smile softening in tandem. "You like when I call you baby, Stevie?"

Steve stares up at him with wide eyes, hardly able to believe this is really happening, and nods. "Yeah. That one."

Eddie is so close, now, that Steve can feel the warmth that emanates from his skin; can see the flecks of gold in his eyes amongst the molten chocolate brown. He's got freckles - Steve realizes. Tiny little dots across the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks that form constellations on his skin. Steve thinks, maybe a bit deliriously, that he would be perfectly happy spending hours tracing them, the way astronomers of old once traced the stars.

"Eddie..." he breathes, heart pounding as he begins to feel more and more desperate for...for something. Anything to let him know that he's not the only one succumbing to the gravitational pull between them.

Eddie blinks slowly, and his eyes widen as though he's just realized something important. Steve watches his throat bob nervously before Eddie finally whispers, "Yeah, baby?"

Steve inhales sharply through parted lips - a soft, plaintive gasp that draws Eddie's eyes to his lips, and-

Oh.

That's what Steve wants, isn't it?

"I-" Steve tries, helpless to stop his own gaze from falling on Eddie's lips - pink and parted and just a little bit chapped, and so, so close.

"Baby," Eddie says again, and this time it's different. Unintentional. Like Eddie said it without meaning to. And maybe it's just the weed, but Steve swears he can feel the word burrowing its way into his chest and settling around his heart like a blanket. It makes his whole body feel warm - something only made worse by the hot coal of desire that begins smoldering low in his gut.

He's so lost in it all that he can't even bring himself to feel embarrassed when he whispers, "Please."

Steve waits with bated breath until finally, any remaining nervousness retreats from Eddie's eyes, and Eddie smiles in that way that makes Steve's stomach flutter. It's such a pretty smile. Steve can only watch as it grows closer, going cross-eyed for the briefest moment in his quest to to stare at Eddie's lips until suddenly his eyes are fluttering shut, because...because...

Because Eddie kisses him with lips still curled into a smile, and Steve thinks - utterly nonsensically - that feeling Eddie's lips against his own is so much better than just looking at them. The thought makes him giggle, just a bit, and he finds himself grinning into the kiss, too.

They part for a moment so Steve can let out another quiet giggle, and Eddie seems to pause for a moment, smiling down at Steve with poorly concealed affection. "Baby," he murmurs reverently, and then he's leaning down to capture Steve's lips in another kiss.

This time, Steve is ready for it, but it draws a muffled whimper out of him nonetheless. His nose fills with the scent of weed and cigarettes and cheap cologne - the smell of Eddie - and it's so overwhelmingly good. He lets his lips fall open on a gasp...doesn't close them when Eddie tentatively brushes his tongue against Steve's own. He shuts his eyes, because the press of Eddie's hand to his cheek and Eddie's chest to his own feel like so much more like that.

Eddie breaks the kiss to gasp in a breath, and inexplicably, that's what really sends every last bit of restraint in Steve's brain packing. It's so simple, so ordinary - the soft, quick sip of air Eddie takes in. It's a breathy little sound that Steve has heard from countless others before, but maybe that's why it puts him in this unfamiliar chokehold of wanting.

This isn't just anyone.

This is Eddie.

And Eddie is making those quiet, lovely little sounds because he's kissing Steve, and Steve is very rapidly realizing that he is utterly incapable of being normal about any of this.

He feels his cheeks go hot as he forces his heavy limbs to move so he can tangle his fingers in Eddie's curls, holding him close (because Steve thinks he might die if Eddie stops kissing him, now). And it's bliss. It's addictive. It's ruinously tender, and Steve feels himself unraveling from within. Feels the knots in his heart - left behind by absent parents, cruel friends, and distant girlfriends - turn to dust at the gentlest brush of Eddie's lips.

He whimpers into Eddie's mouth and clings to him even tighter, feeling his throat grow strangely tight as his eyes sting at the corners, and when Eddie pulls away he's got a small furrow in his brow, just under his bangs. 

"Stevie?" Eddie murmurs. His eyes dart to Steve's cheeks, and when he brushes his thumb along the skin just under Steve's eye, it drags a bit of wetness with it. Only then does Steve realize...he's crying.

And Eddie is wiping away his tears.

"I..." Steve croaks, eyes wide and spilling more tears with every blink. He drags his hands down from Eddie's hair to rest on his chest, beginning to curl into himself as the embarrassment sinks in.

Christ, he's crying. And all they've done is kiss.

Eddie's frown deepens, but he doesn't pull away completely. Instead, he lets their noses brush and breathes, "Baby..."

Steve's breath hitches.

"You're shaking, sweetheart," Eddie continues, still brushing Steve's tears away with gentle fingers. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Steve gasps hurriedly, because as far as he understands, it's the truth. "Nothing's wrong, I just..." He closes his eyes. Swallows the lump in his throat and admits with a trembling voice, "I didn't know it could be like this."

He opens his eyes and sees Eddie's expression soften, but the concern remains. "What do you mean?"

"I just..." Steve tries, sniffling and letting out a quiet, distressed laugh. He slams his eyes shut again and rubs them roughly with his palms, trying to force the tears back into his body. "Jesus, this is fucking embarrassing, man."

"Steve..." Eddie murmurs. He sounds sad. Conflicted. Like he's not sure what to do or how to help - if he should stay or go - and that just won't do, because Steve is certain he'll drift away on the breeze without Eddie to ground him. He's got to try to explain, even with his thoughts still feeling syrupy slow from the weed.

He wants to tell Eddie that he's kissed dozens of people before, but kissing them never felt like this. He wants to explain that he's used to taking the lead, and that it's nice having someone else set the pace, for once. He wants to tell Eddie about the way most people he's kissed have done so - frantically...lustfully. Kissing has always been a simple means to an end. And it's never made Steve feel like this.

What he actually manages to say is slightly different, though.

"No one's ever kissed me like they love me, before."

His eyes are still covered by his own hands, so he can't see what is surely a stunned expression on Eddie's face, but he can hear the way Eddie gasps in response to Steve's words.

It’s too much, he thinks. He's said too much, fast-forwarded too far into the movie. It's too early to be talking about love. Steve knows this. It's just...

His stupid, floaty little brain can't envision a world where someone kisses the way Eddie does without being hopelessly, irrevocably in love.

"Shit," Steve breathes after several minutes of silence. Or maybe it's several seconds. He really doesn't know. Time feels funny, when he's high. "I know that's, like, way too much. I'm too much. I don't know why I-"

"Steve," Eddie interrupts, and Steve snaps his mouth shut. He feels Eddie's hands wrap carefully around his wrists to pull them from his eyes. Eddie is being so careful with him...like he can't see that his tenderness is exactly the thing that’s ripping Steve apart at the seams.

Steve wants to scream. He wants to cry. He wants to drag Eddie back down and kiss him until he can't breathe. Until Eddie's sweetness becomes warm and comforting instead of feeling like the scalding heat of jumping into a hot tub after a dip in the cold waters of the pool.

"Baby, look at me," Eddie says softly.

Steve is helpless but to obey.

Eddie's gaze is sad but kind when Steve finally meets it with his own. He's got the barest hint of a smile on his pretty lips - the same ones Steve so desperately wants to feel against his own, again - and Steve feels his stomach swirl with something he can't quite describe.

"It's not too much," Eddie continues, voice steady. "And neither are you, okay? You, Steve Harrington, are never too much. Not to me."

The words settle over Steve like a blanket, and he can't decide whether it's comforting or suffocating. He just wants to stop talking about things so they can move on. He just wants Eddie.

"Eds..." he rasps desperately. "I don't- I just want-" He cuts himself off with the hitching breath of what may be a sob. He's not really sure, at this point.

"What can I do, honey?" Eddie says, and he really needs to stop with the pet names, or Steve might genuinely fracture into pieces. "What do you want?"

Steve is sunk too deep into the syrupy slow feeling of the weed - too desperate to feel Eddie pressed against him again - to do anything but tell the truth.

"Just want you," he says.

Eddie smiles - eyes crinkling at the corners - and Steve breathes the sight in like oxygen. "You have me, baby," Eddie murmurs. He's rubbing small, comforting circle into the sensitive skin of Steve's wrists now, and it's perfect. It's wonderfully, disgustingly perfect.

"I do?" Steve asks dumbly. His brain feels fifteen seconds behind everything, but he thinks that's probably okay. Eddie seems to be just fine waiting for him to catch up.

"Yeah, Stevie," Eddie chuckles quietly. "Had me for a long time, now. Just wasn't sure if you would want me the way I wanted you."

"You want me," Steve says breathlessly, more to himself than to Eddie. "You wanna kiss me."

Eddie's resulting laugh is a bit louder, a bit brighter, this time. "I do," he says. The sadness is fading from his eyes, giving way to something that looks an awful lot like elation. Steve remains still and watches, entranced, as Eddie carefully hauls himself up until he can swing a leg over Steve's to straddle him.

Still smiling broadly, Eddie leans down until their faces are mere inches apart, studying Steve with those big, brown eyes. "You gonna let me?" he asks Steve, a teasing lilt to his voice.

Steve nods, lips parted in surprise he can't quite seem to shake, and Eddie's expression softens.

"Gonna let me kiss you like I love you, Stevie?" Eddie whispers.

Steve's not sure when, exactly, his tears had begun to dry up, but he knows they must have at some point, because they're returning with a vengeance, now. "Please," he breathes.

Eddie shifts, and Steve expects Eddie to go right back to kissing him, but that's not what he does.

Instead, Eddie releases one of Steve's wrists and cups his cheek tenderly. This time, the feeling of his thumb brushing the tears away is a familiar one, and it makes Steve smile dopily.

"You know the reason I kiss you like I love you?" Eddie asks. Steve shakes his head and tracks Eddie's gaze as it drifts towards the place where his fingers are still wrapped around Steve's wrist. His lips quirk into a smile as he uses his grip to pin Steve's hand to the mattress, right beside Steve's head, and laces their fingers together.

Their noses are brushing, now, and Eddie's hips are resting on Steve's, and Eddie's hair has fallen around them like a curtain to keep the rest of the world out, and it's so much. Eddie is everywhere, and he's everything, and Steve is completely, unquestioningly in love with him - probably has been in love with him for ages, now, and just never let himself think too hard about it.

"I kiss you like I love you, Steve Harrington," Eddie breathes, and their lips brush as he speaks. "Because I love you."

And the thing is…Steve has spent his entire life wondering what it would feel like to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was loved. It's something that's eluded him for twenty years.

So it's all the more miraculous when Eddie kisses him again, and suddenly, Steve knows. He knows that Eddie Munson loves him. He feels it in the way Eddie kisses him slowly and deliberately, like it would never have crossed Eddie's mind not to. He feels it in their linked hands, in the way Eddie squeezes his hand when Steve makes a desperate, wanton sound into his mouth.

He feels it when Eddie brushes the hair out of his eyes and smiles before kissing Steve's forehead, then his nose, and then his lips again.

Feels it when Eddie's lips begin to wander down his neck.

When Eddie sucks a mark into the thin skin above his collar bone, just because Steve begs him too.

When Eddie pulls Steve's shirt over his head with careful hands, then lets Steve do the same, because Steve needs the intimacy of skin on skin.

He feels it when Eddie stops Steve's wandering hands from venturing too far south with a firm grip and apologetic eyes, because Eddie wants him - of course he does - but not when they've been smoking. Not when there's even the slightest chance that Steve might wake up and regret it in the morning.

And he hears it, too, later that night when they're laying in Eddie's bed exchanging soft, sleepy kisses, unwilling to drift off and let the night end, just yet.

Their legs are woven together - bare, aside from their boxers - and Steve has lost track of how long they've been tangled up in each other like this. He doesn't particularly care, though. He's pretty sure he could happily spend the rest of his life exactly like this.

"Love you, Stevie," Eddie whispers against his lips. They both smile into the next kiss, and Steve's heart is full to bursting, because he believes it. He knows, now, what it feels like to be loved...to be adored.

"I love you," he murmurs in reply, relishing in Eddie's sharp intake of breath. He giggles a bit, for no reason other than the pure joy that's been coursing through his body all night. "God," he laughs. "I fucking love you, Eddie Munson.

Eddie is quiet for a moment before his face splits into a grin that could rival Steve's own, and he's so goddamn beautiful that Steve almost feels like crying again.

He doesn't cry, though. He just watches adoringly as Eddie smiles and nudges Steve's nose with his own. "Yeah, baby?" Eddie teases.

"Yeah, Eds," he answers simply.

And he's pretty sure Eddie knows - is pretty sure Eddie can feel it - because Steve kisses him for the umpteenth time that night, and he pours every ounce of his heart into it. 

Steve kisses Eddie like he loves him, because he does. God, help him, he does.

And Eddie?

Eddie kisses Steve like he loves him back, and Steve gets it now, because it’s more than just a kiss.

It’s perfect.

It’s earth-shattering.

It’s everything.

--

Shout-out to @lyphyshard for the beta!

For more of my Steddie blurbs and one-shots, check out my masterlist!

[qqueenofhades]

hi I hope you don't mind but I would love to hear your long tired historian rant you mentioned in your tags on that one post, if you feel in the mood to share? (no pressure!)

(also thank you for existing, you do wonderful work and the world is a better place for you being in it)

Aha. Well. For context, the mention of said rant was in relation to this post:

Basically, this post struck a nerve because of how it exactly encapsulates the anti-intellectual, anti-academia, anti-historical, anti-reality thinking that is absolutely rampant in social media spaces, even and especially spaces that identify as leftist, liberal, or otherwise "superior" to the right wing when it comes to identifying fake news or misinformation. (Example A: anything ever written by a self-proclaimed leftist on Twitter.) We all know that there are huge problems with the American public school system (and the people writing this are almost always American) and the American practice of education in general, and that yes, there are many things that happened in the past (or y'know, the present!) that are not taught very well, or at all. But because the American public school system is so decentralized and largely autonomous, incredibly dependent on the temperament of local superintendents and/or school boards, taxation and funding, availability of teachers, requirement of useless standardized tests, etc., it is very difficult (if not outright impossible) to claim that this is the result of a Unified Grand Conspiracy To Not Teach Real History To The Youth In Order To Make Them Mindlessly Support Capitalism. That is the exact sort of deranged conspiratorial thinking that the right wing does and fits everything into a sinister narrative about how "They" are planning to keep you ignorant and therefore nothing harmful that you ever think or do is really your fault. It's not good.

(Whoosh. That was very calm and reasonable of me. For the rest of this post, please just picture Captain Holt "apparently that's a trigger for me" dot gif.)

Also: even in public school, and despite the Republicans' best efforts, there are plenty of opportunities to study complex or "controversial" subjects. For example, I spend a week every June grading AP Euro History exams with a lot of other educators in a giant windowless steel box (woo-hoo, fun times!) Every year, there are questions on the exam about women's rights, imperialism and exploitation, slavery/race relations, the development of capitalism and the current economic model, religion and science, the history of labor, and other topics that would be considered "controversial" if you're an idiot. This is an exam taken by high school students in all grades from across the country, and there are also AP World History and APUSH (US history) exams every year which are doubtless making an effort to address similar themes. This is an advanced program, yes, but it's widely available to many schools and is not a result of a sinister plot to keep the youth from discovering the truth. Also: you live in an era of absolutely unprecedented access to information. Put down the ChatGPT bullshit generator and visit a goddamn public library. Or even open Wikipedia. The tools are there for you to start educating yourself and they are so easy to find!!!!!

The "Historians Are Hiding The Truth!!!" narrative becomes even more ridiculous in university-level or professional academic historical-study spaces, especially when historical educators and associations (such as the American Historical Association) have been at the forefront of pushing back against right-wing efforts to censor history, punish teachers, and remove culture-war subjects from classrooms. Also as someone who has advanced degrees in history, has taught/worked in several universities in different countries, writes and publishes historical research, and otherwise participates professionally in the field: trust me, we aren't "hiding" shit. There are vigorous debates and disagreements on various bogglingly obscure subjects and points of clarification and so forth, but that doesn't mean we're not talking about them (trust me, we're often talking about them too much). If you're issuing confident blanket statements about how "historians are conspiring to hide x," you're an idiot.

This also has dangerous repercussions in the field of, say, politics and civics, where a lot of absolutely braindead Online Leftists have spent the last four years posting deranged nonsense on social media and then, whenever they're called out on it for that not actually being how anything works at all, whining that "I was never taught this!!!" (And yet, it somehow never actually changes their perspective or their theories....) They whine about how "they didn't know this" and it was someone else's fault, they make up total fantasy about what the Biden administration did or should have done and now are still happy about Trump coming back because "It will teach the Democrats a lesson!!!" and otherwise accelerating us oh-so-quickly down that slippery slippery fascism slope. Their weaponized ignorance and their magical fantasies about what "should" have happened often come back to this same learned helplessness, where it's everyone else's fault (especially Capitalism's) that they're total wankers. Look: I'm not a goddamn fan of capitalism either. But we all grew up in this same system, and some of us aren't raving idiots, so at some point, you have to take the tiniest modicum of personal responsibility for the information you seek out, the content you consume, the opinions you propagate, and the people you surround yourself with. Shocking.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, Online Leftists are actively and unrepentantly enabling American fascism and should be treated in the same way as we treat MAGA when it comes to deciding what is good or worthwhile information. This is because their entire political philosophy (insofar as their beliefs can be dignified with the term) is based on the "make shit up and remove it from any basic empirical references, grounding in reality, or 'should I run the most basic Google search and see if I'm completely talking out of my ass in a distorted social media echo chamber? Nah I'm good' " technique. This is, as the original tweet above references, trying to retcon sheer malicious laziness and stupidity into grand ideological theories about how it's actually "better" that they don't know a damn thing and won't shut up. It's your evil history teacher's fault, or "academics are all rich and elitist" (ask any academic-precariat person like me and we will laugh hollowly and then throw monkey poop at you), or "They" wouldn't let you learn this, or on and on. Even in our terrible, awful, no-good very-bad timeline, there are still ample tools to educate yourself, to learn how to filter out bad information and junk news, and otherwise gird yourself even a little for the even-more-massive assault on empirical reality that we are about to experience in the next four years (ugh). I suggest you take advantage of them.

[gregrulzok]

I got kinda poet-ish about it in my last post but I need to be more direct:

Genuinely what the FUCK is wrong with Daniel Molloy.

Like okay, yes, 100+ year old broody vampires with incredibly tragic backstories will be hot and a little bit insane. That's literally a given.

Daniel Molloy is a 30-somethings man with a budding alcohol problem and verging on a midlife crisis, and his response to a world-shattering revelation that vampires are real is to go SO fucking off the rails that his 500 year old millionaire stalker that blends rats for fun, reads 70 books a day at mach speed, and once SEWED A YOUNG GIRL'S HEAD TO AN OLDER WOMAN'S BODY AFTER MURDERING THEM has to be like "Daniel you're being weird again".

Like this man.

- Has no backstory as far as I know? Certainly no tragic tale I've ever heard. He'd literally some dude off the street.

- Is one of the only characters to ever be with Armand and NOT fetishize the fact that he looks 17 (hats off)

- BUT he DOES fetishize him being a literal fucking corpse, direct quote "I like kissing. And snuggling with dead things, yes, hold me." so maybe we should place him on some kind of list anyway

- Is literally ADDICTED to vampire blood, and the reason for it is that it gives him fucked up visions of suffering and torment and he's into that

- (I'm cutting him a lot of slack for also being not dissimilarly addicted to having his blood drunk, because this is Tunglr and I think we can all relate to that, but let the record state for real world purposes that's still fucking weird)

- Yells at and berates his deranged vampire stalker WELL before the time they become Lovers, in the MIDDLE of said deranged vampire stalker having some kind of angry meltdown. ("I WANT YOU TO DIAL PARIS, I WANT TO SEE IF YOU CAN REALLY TALK TO PARIS" [...] "WHAT ARE YOU, AN IMMORTAL IDIOT?" This is during a time period where, for all he knows, the deranged vampire stalker is fully comfortable with and even vaguely planning on killing him.

- Hears OVER AND OVER AGAIN how becoming a vampire is nothing but a terrible irreversible eternal curse, sees how every vampire he meets (all... Two of them, to be fair), longs for humanity, and STILL thinks "Nah. I'm built DIFFERENT."

- Like. Listen. He's aware of the pain and suffering he'd bring to others. He fully knows about it because he drinks Armand's blood. And he WANTS TO DO THAT, like that would NOT be an issue for him.

- At best that's a sacrifice he's willing to make so he gets to cuddle his dead boyfriend for all eternity. At worst, and more probably, that's a fun perk for him.

Like Daniel what is your fucking PROBLEM, man.

[taffywabbit]

every time dilbert gets mentioned in a conversation/post i think about how hilarious it is that scott adams turned out to be such a deranged alt-right fuckwit, considering the fact that his comics indisputably radicalized me against capitalism as a kid and probably did so earlier than anything else

like there IS some pretty iffy stuff in dilbert for sure (particularly a lot of casual misogyny and xenophobia), and it definitely increased over time as the author got more edgy and self-important. i don't think i read anything from later than like 2003 and it was already starting to get pretty unreadable by then - LONG before he started openly being a turbo-racist podcaster weirdo. but the earlier stuff (especially before there were a lot of established recurring characters or running gags) was largely just a satirical cartoon focused on how corporations are evil and exploitative, and how you'd have to be completely detached from reality to truly enjoy working for them, and how trying to climb the ladder of success is a futile pursuit within a capitalist society where the upper class needs to keep pulling that ladder up behind them to keep the rest of us in our place and maintain their own status. it was basically vent art by a guy stuck working in mind-numbing desk jobs, who barely knew how to draw but just wanted to get his thoughts out and reach other people who were frustrated in the same ways he was. it's really weird but also fascinating to compare that to how it (and adams himself) ended up in the long run

i don't think it was particularly funny most of the time, and when it did have actual jokes, they were often pretty mean-spirited and/or cynical. i don't remember more than one or two specific bits from the comic that actually ever made me laugh, and i read a LOT of them as a kid (my grandpa had a massive collection of newspaper comic compilation books at his house that he'd let me look through and borrow stuff from - this is also how i discovered garfield and calvin & hobbes). but i DO remember having it instilled in me from an early age that there was nothing really exciting or praiseworthy about grinding your life away for a company that profits off your skilled labor and gives you pennies in return - which is especially noteworthy considering i was also raised by mormons, who are famously all about that "nobility in suffering" and "work your way to heaven" type bullshit. i'm genuinely unsure how this happened

anyways i think scott adams would probably piss his pants and explode if he ever took a break from peddling his psychic penis hypnosis and killer burrito podcasts long enough to seriously think about any of this stuff. (and i hope he does. it would be funnier than anything he's ever written.)

[egotisticaleverything]

Pervy Young Hank HCs

[NSFW]

WARNINGS: Dubcon-ish elements, Hank being a nervous pervert, pantie stealing, pantie sniffing, Polaroids of you/reader used in… less than SFW ways, non-consensual up skirt photos, degrading kink, unedited, tell me if I left anything out!!

A/N: I know this may be OOC but I see nerdy boy and I think “hmmm what if I made him a pervy little FREAK” then I giggle kick my feet and give the internet my deranged thoughts. Enjoy.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

Hank has always been nervous, around you especially. The minute you entered the mansion and he layed eyes on you his heart skipped a beat. Something about you was so alluring, but my lord this man was awkward about it. He was practically running away from you out of embarrassment.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t like you, oh no. Quite the contrary, he liked you a lot. Every week on laundry days you’d notice at least one pair of your underwear missing, you swore you had counted and made sure they were all there but they just seemed to disappear. Disappear into a locked drawer in Hank’s room, stashed right beside a photo of you from the staff pool party the year prior. And a photo from last years Halloween party, and Christmas, and- is that a Polaroid up your skirt? Dirty fucking pervert got off to anything to do with you, he’d probably jerk it to your x-rays if he had nothing else.

In his little stash he’s at least smart enough to not take your favourite pair of panties, no he’d never do that to you. But any other ones are fair game. He’d get off looking at your photos, your underwear practically glued to his face with how much he’s pressing it against himself, whimpering and whining like a little bitch. Every time a pair of your underwear starts looking your sent he slyly slips it back into the pile during laundry day, swapping it for another as the cycle continues.

“Oh fuck-“ Hank whined, your most recently worn pair of panties hugged his face as he shoved them into his nose, consuming your leftover sent as he stroked himself, his cock practically throbbing as it leaks beads of pre-cum. Through foggy glasses he eyes the photos of you layed upon his desk, he couldn’t help himself, more could he tell you. He was too far gone in this act, he couldn’t risk it too much. But god how he loved the concept of him getting caught, you storming into his office and witnessing a scene like this, seeing not only his face buried in your panties but all those Polaroids, swimsuit pictures, Halloween costumes, up skirt shots on the stairs. You’d probably call him a filthy pervert and slap in him the face, throw all sorts of names at him. Oh like hell he’d let you, he’d pay to have you do it. The concept of you even touching him is enough to drive him over the edge. These thoughts slowly consumed him as his strokes became even more frantic, approaching his climax as a string of incoherent moans mixed with nothing more than curses and your name rolling off his tongue. Soon enough he came, spilling himself all over his desk, as your stolen panties fell from their place on his nose it landed right in the puddle. Shit.