#... kinda

[lunarcrown]

His ass was NOT listening (but he still did phenomenal!)

[miyeosin]

MIYEON i-dle '𝐟𝐨𝐫 (𝐆)' behind

[clearancecreedwatersurvival]

not romantic not platonic but a secret third thing: locked in eternal psychological warfare

[steddiefication]

yanking this out of its safe little hiding place in op's tags

A continuation of this post I made

I imagine Steve genuinely doesn’t think about Eddie, like at all. Besides the occasional “what is he yelling about in that table” or “ Munson actually showed up to class” or once in sophomore year he thinks “how much does Munson charge for an ounce of weed? Would he take a $50 for an ounce” which causes Eddie to wait around all day at the picnic table wishing for some shmuck to offer $50 for just an ounce, but no one shows up (Steve had to go pick up Dustin after school and didn’t want him to find weed the weed when he inevitably starts going through Steve’s car)

The lack of soulmate thoughts really irks Eddie, because he knows his soulmate is in Hawkins, but he never thinks about Eddie, like at all??? Positively or negatively?? Eddie jumps on more tables, he blares loud music from his van, he is in a band, he is the drug dealer for all the teens in Hawkins and all his soulmate thinks is “why the fuck did Munson double park his van, I’m going to be late looking for a parking spot now” it absolutely drives him crazy.

He eventually figures out his soulmate must be a jock of some kind because one day he hears “what is Munson doing under the bleachers?” when some sports team is let out of playing with balls practice. He is briefly heartbroken his soulmate isn’t a nerd like him, but then spends the night thinking about how a certain fluffy haired jock could play with his balls anytime.

Steve isn’t not thinking about Eddie on purpose, but they just don’t run in the same circles, so he doesn’t really think about him too much, just in a genuine, “I don’t know them, don’t interact with them, so I don’t really think about them” sort of way. Especially after befriending the kids, Steve’s focus goes to keeping them safe and being a babysitter instead of finding his soulmate.

Steve’s experience with his soulmates thoughts is completely different. Starting in middle school he heard his soulmate think he was cute which he thought was nice. As he got older his soulmate would still think he was cute, but also handsome or pretty which, he doesn’t know any girls who call their boyfriends pretty but ya know, he can roll with that. He thinks he will have to roll with a lot of stuff, since hai soulmate seems to into a…a lot of interesting things, to say the least. Steve has dated a lot of girls but none of them seemed to want to rub their face in his chest hair like his soulmate did, who also wonder is Steve was that hairy everywhere which- he was but he didn’t think a girl would want to know about that.

He would be in the middle of a basket ball game and he hit with a 15 minute monologue about how wonderful his ass looked in “thise little green shirts that ride up his ass in the best way” and how his soulmate “wanted to be those shorts” causing Steve to miss three different shots. Also with all this wildly kinky stuff and even general sex things Steve has never heard of or thought about he figures he should become more knowledgeable to better be prepared for his soulmate.

One day when Steve is cleaning up a drink he spilled in the cafeteria and heard “god Harrington looks good on his knees, bet he would look even better with my cock in his mouth” figures chances are his soulmate isn’t a girl at all.

With not much else to loose and a new door opened up to him, Steve starts spending time thinking equally horny thinvs about different guys he sees in class, just to see if they will react to what he is thinking. This is how he figures out Eddie is his soulmate.

Steve notices eddies table is getting a little rowdy, as is always does before Eddie gets up on someone’s table and he rants about jocks and preppy girls while stepping on people’s lunches, Steve thinks “what if comes over here, spits in my stretched out hole, and fucks me right next to Heathers Halloways tuna sandwich���

Eddie, whose soulmate didn’t even think about Eddie that one time his car got spray painted a fit was all the school talked about for a week, was NOT expecting that at 12:30 on a Tuesday and promptly trips on a chair and slams face first into the lunch table, breaking his nose.

Eddies friends rush him to the nurse and Steve is torn between this being a sign Eddie is soulmate or Eddie just clumsy, Steve has seen him walk into a door twice, so he don’t 100% sure. Steve decided to test this anytime he has a clear viewpoint of Eddie and starts thinking the most horny, kinky things possibly about Eddie to see if Eddie reacts proves he is Steve’s soulmate (also revenge because Steve had to go through years of Eddie horny pondering interrupting Steve during important tasks games or tests so Steve figures he should pay that forward during eddies dungeons and dorks games)

[xxacidrain39xx]

frank iero smoking a blunt

[co27]

some dr stuff from when the chapter announcement dropped. 1 month left... grins

[galacticghoste]

Vlad dracula tepes and Lisa tepes give off shadamy!!!

I been wanting to make this for a year now and i finaly decided to make it hehe

[garciasgirl]

something, somehow, someday..

୨ৎ summary : you and spencer have a deep connection, maybe deeper than the both of you thought. when you go to comfort spencer at his apartment, feelings and confessions are shared…

୨ৎ warnings: mention of addiction (spencer), minimal swearing, small mention of spencer’s parents, kissing.

୨ৎ a/n: this is based of the song something, somehow, someday by role model. a song I’m currently obsessed with so yeah!! also sorry if this is bad I just started to write a bunch of words.

୨ৎ wc: 838

spencer reid was smart, but he was perfect.

in fact, he was anything but. he didn’t share it with many, but he had countless imperfections. some that others may have not focused on. but he did.

firstly, he had battled an addiction. an addiction that caused him to push everyone away and act like a total idiot. he was sometimes rude, abrasive. he had an absent father his entire life, and a schizophrenic mother whom he loved dearly, but struggled to take care of. he wasn’t sure he was the type you would go for..

you were kind. you radiated sunshine, and happiness. while spencer had a aversion to social media, you posted frequently.

and he may of downloaded countless platforms just to see them. every picture, every selfie of you, you held up a peace sign, bright smile on your face.

when spencer was battling his rough addiction to dilaudid, you were so comforting, he didn’t want to push you away. he wanted to pull you closer. you were a welcome sign. even when he struggled to communicate that.

but spencer didn’t need to be perfect at communicating, because you knew him. you knew what he was like, and how he was feeling. you were a profiler, after all, you were good at reading people.

every day that spencer seemed off, or upset, at work. you went over to his apartment. spencer didn’t tell people when he wasn’t doing the best, therefore you had to infer.

and tonight was one of these nights.

he made you feel a certain way, a good way. and you thought; maybe, he felt the same way.

even if he didn’t, you couldn’t help but care for him.

in a way, you believed the two of you were meant to be. something, somehow, someday.

you knocked on spencer’s door twice, waiting for him to open.

when he did, he had a confused expression on his face, until he saw yours, and it softened into a more neutral one.

“hey..?” he started, his voice quiet.

you smiled, “hey, spence, can I come in?”

he nodded, moving out of the way slightly so you could slip inside. the two of you made your way further into the apartment. ending up in his living room.

when he sat down on the couch, you followed. starting your mild interrogation. “so..im all ears, what’s bothering you?”

he looked up, letting out a small scoff. “nothing, why?” he responded, closed off. you looked at him pointedly.

“don’t lie, spencer, you know I can tell.” in which he sighed, it was true, you could tell.

“I’ve just been out of it lately..thinking too much but not about anything valuable.” you listened, intently. only focusing on him and the words he was saying.

“is that all..?” you prompted, not sure it was. he sat for a minute, before shaking his head. “no, but..it’s hard to explain.” he murmured, not wanting to talk about it.

“I can listen.” you confirm, allowing him to continue.

“i can’t stop thinking about you. it- it sounds pathetic i know,” you go to tell him it doesn’t but he cuts you off.

“just..let me explain. whenever I feel not myself, if im sad or just..not right. you know. and I know we’re profilers, but, when you know you ask. you come to me, you care for me? and, I just don’t understand why? when you first joined the bau.. I was deep in my addiction.”

he sighed taking a breath, “and for lack of better terms, I was a dick to you.”

you laugh softly under your breath, Spencer swearing was always something that never failed to amuse you. he huffed out a laugh in return.

“I just..I want to know if im reading to much into this, or if..you feel the same way I do.”

his shaking tone and words alike make your head snap up, before you ask.

“how do you feel?”

he sucks in a breath through clenched teeth.

“like im really fucking in love with you.”

you can’t keep your eyes from widening and your breath from hitching in your throat. your response throws spencer off, he can’t tell if he just ruined everything or not.

he starts to ramble out, “im sorry, I didn’t mean to push that onto you, I know that’s not what you were expecting..”

“spencer..”

“I promise I don’t except you to feel the same way, it’s okay if you don’t, you probably don’t…”

“spencer, I-“

“I really hope this won’t ruin our friendship, I would really hate for that to happen because of my stupid mistake-“

you didn’t let him finish, smashing your lips on to his, he freezes for a minute before melting into the kiss. placing his hands on the sides of your cheeks, pulling you closer and holding you into him.

when he pulls back, he doesn’t say anything. just stares at you with heavy lidded eyes and racing breath.

“does that answer your question?”

you ask, he stops, shaking his head.

“not sure yet..”

he says before yanking you back in.

[9w1ft]

Taylor wore a panther necklace Dec 12 for Billboard music awards video. Different brand but very similar!

oh yeah! i see what you mean 😌

[far-from-fran]

Fuck no!

Every poll on this blog is about fictional characters only. This request was sent to us and we made a poll in response to it. Send any Blorbo-related question you want to our inbox and we’ll make a poll on which people can vote with their own Blorbos in minds

[actual-gremlin]

I know we all love the Idea of Will who is so enamoured by Nico and is constantly talking about him to anyone who’ll listen. But have we considered Will who is still enamoured, but pushes his emotions for Nico down because he can’t afford to be distracted from his infirmary duty. Will who can’t stop moving because if he does, he’ll start thinking about Nico and fall down the rabbit hole of need and desire and think about what he wants for once. And he can’t do that, because when he cares for himself, people die. Will who never talks about what he needs, only what others need. Will who, in the depths of the night, when all the paperwork is done and he can’t bear to reorganize the storage room for the thousandth time, let’s himself slip for just a moment into thinking about the life he could have with Nico if he didn’t have so many responsibilities. Will who falls asleep, imagining it’s Nico who’s breathing he hears, not the whimpers of a patient or a dreaming demigod. Will who desperately wants, but forces himself to put his needs last, therefore pushing Nico into the back of his mind, only letting the thoughts of him slip out in moments of weakness. 

[unlimitedhearts]

I quiver in fear of what a movie starring Jensen Ackles and Sebastian Stan would look like.

Two men who can't help falling in love at least a little bit w their costars. Who can't help but insert homoerotic tension into every bit of their acting. Two men who are so good at the longing, pining, yearning, "love with a forgone conclusion of doom" look; That a simple twitch of the eye, quirk of the lip, tensing of the jaw - could spell total annihilation and devastation or joyful exuberance, at all times mixed with an unshakeable melancholy. The worst kind of cocktail to drink and yet they are submerged in it.

That movie would be shattering to the soul and I am not exaggerating when I say I need it.

And of course they'd fuck nasty. Thats a given.

[hypnautic-cereal]

…Do you think Julie could get rabies? Or contract diseases?

I mean, from what we learned from the update, rainbow monsters are born from plant blushes, so maybe she can’t have any animalistic diseases

Hm…Maybe she spreads pollen, she is the rainbow monster who makes the flowers bloom after all

[joshujin]

oh for sure jeonghan 🙂‍↕️

smile, s.coups

you take a photo with rapper s.coups at the met gala.

1.5k words • masterlist • submit a request pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader cw: none

the met gala isn't something you particularly enjoy attending, but every year, without fail, you're told you're invited and yes, you are going and no, as reigning "princess of the met," we cannot debate this. it's the trade-off for doing what you love and being who you are: no longer having a say and simply going where you're told to go, doing what you're told to do.

you honestly blame this on kwon soonyoung. he's been styling you since your popularity really started taking off, and when you got invited to your first met, it was his art that made you a viral topic for weeks on end. your name was everywhere. you couldn't give an interview without someone mentioning your met gala appearance. your third album released a few weeks later and thanks to the attention already on you, it nabbed you your first grammy nomination—and win.

and from there, for the last six years now, you haven't been able to escape this godforsaken party. and all because stupid soonyoung was just a tad bit too good at his job.

you don't want to sound ungrateful; you know being the topic of conversation at an event as big as this one year after year has opened a lot of doors for you—opportunities served to you on a platinum platter. but being at the met gala felt dystopian to you sometimes.

the blinding flashes, the demanding, almost primal screams of your name, the hundreds of thousands of dollars spent to throw the event, then the hundreds more spent on the fashion to attend.

it's a lot and it's not something you ever thought would be a priority when you first started creating music. but here you are, in line to walk the carpet with countless celebrities you still can't believe you are looped in with annually.

the nerves always make you near-despondent in the hours leading up to the event. you hardly talk to the staff that accompanies you—your assistant, manager, and soonyoung—you try not to make eye contact with anyone because you don't want to socialize until you're away from the carpet and away from the photographers, and you try to breathe slowly and deeply in a pathetically weak attempt to calm your heart down.

you fidget for the millionth time, and soonyoung adjusts whatever you fidgeted out of place for the millionth time.

"this is your sixth year," he murmurs gently as his eyes slowly and deliberately sweep up and down your body. you'd accuse him of checking you out if you didn't know that he was just admiring his own work. "this isn't anything you haven't already conquered. you're going to be great."

you give him the tiniest nod and he smiles, resting his hand on your arm briefly before stepping away. it's almost your turn. you raise your eyes and find yourself staring at grey hair. there's something familiar about his stature as the stranger steps forward, immediately welcomed with a wall of roars. it's as disorienting as it always is, but you catch his name early on.

"s.coups!" the name continuously echoes across the carpet.

"s.coups? the rapper?" you ask, looking over at your team, waiting for any one of them to answer. it's your assistant who does.

"yes, he's the ambassador for boss and it's his first time at the met," she steps up and recites it like it's memorized information.

no one ever asks her to, but she studies everyone on the guest list every year like she's in the devil wears prada. however ridiculous, you have to admit it is useful.

"huh," you say more to yourself than anyone.

you were familiar with the rapper and his work. you had even played around with the thought of reaching out to get him on a song, but the idea just never came to fruition. you've been too busy to do much of anything, let alone follow his career, but if the screams are any indication, the man's popularity has substantially grown since you first discovered his music.

it's a cacophony of his name, requests to turn, questions about his outfit, demands for a certain pose. your ear drums rattle at the noise. you're overstimulated. more than anything, you're impressed.

he moves forward to the next spot he's directed to, and you know that means it's your turn.

soonyoung hurriedly prepares your dress to fall the way he wants it to fall, to float where he wants it to float, to stun the world the way he always does. then, staff is waving you to your marker, and you comply, stepping forward.

the crowd gets impossibly louder, and you do your best not to flinch. you see s.coups freeze a little at the sudden increase in noise, and as you walk up to the marker, he turns around, eyebrows raised in curiosity at who could inspire this reaction. when his eyes land on you, it's clear he knows exactly who you are. his eyebrows settle as his lips curve into a warm and knowing smile that reaches up into his eyes.

for the first time in six years, everything is quiet on the carpet. for the first time, you're thankful for the flashes because it allows you to better see s.coups's face. his eyes. his insanely cherry red lips. for the first time, you're not thinking about how much you hate this part of your job or how badly you want to go back to your hotel room or if you'll make a fool of yourself trying to socialize inside.

all your brain can process is the rapper standing in front of you.

it all comes barreling back—the screams, the demands, the nervousness—when you feel soonyoung gently shove the small of your back with a tiny: "what the hell are you doing?"

"oh, sorry," you breathe as you take the last few steps to the tape on the floor.

you make sure you're standing where you need to be and when you look back up, his eyes are still on you, so you return his smile with a small one of yours. his becomes even wider. he turns back to the crowd of photographers, and you both pose for a few moments before the staff is ushering him to the next marker, and you to his current spot.

before he walks to where he's being asked to go, he grins at the photographers and shouts, "i know what you all are really waiting for!" and he makes a show of bowing away from the spot as you walk forward.

you can't help the amused giggle that escapes you, and even with all the sound, he seems to hear it because he looks up and smiles sweetly. you think he's done, but he suddenly offers his hand. and when you take it, not sure of where this is going, he escorts you to the space he was just standing in.

you kind of hope he'll kiss your hand too. that maybe it will leave remnants of his gloss on your skin and you can convince yourself he's real. but he doesn't, simply bowing his head infinitesimally before letting go and following the staff to his next spot.

but the photographers don't let you two get away with that. only a second or so passes before they're screaming at you two to take a photo together. you both try to ignore them at first, but they shout nothing else at you other than: "together! together!"

you sneak a look at s.coups to see that he's doing the same to you, making you both laugh. he tilts his head in question, and without answering, you walk over to meet in the middle. you expect to take the photo side by side, arms politely around each other's shoulders. maybe even just posing together with an awkward distance between.

instead, s.coups has his hands on your waist and guides you to be just a small step in front of him. he lets his left hand rest on your waist, his right slipping into the pocket of his pants. you're thankful that soonyoung's look required an insane amount of blush around your temples and eyes because your face feels like it's on fire.

he looks down at you once you're both positioned and he smiles. "this okay?" he asks quietly.

you nod. "yeah." you're not even sure if he can hear you. you can't force yourself to speak any louder. "it's okay."

he smiles. "good. can't have the princess of the met covered by a nobody like me."

you scoff. "you're definitely not a nobody."

"oh?" he tilts his head again, bits of grey hair falling into his eyes when he does. "and what makes you say that?"

"if you were a nobody, how would the princess of the met know you well enough to know she wants you on a track with her?"

his lips fall open in quiet shock, and you smirk and pat the hand that's resting on your waist.

"smile for the cameras, s.coups."

you don’t bother to wait and see the expression on his face when you reveal you know his stage name. you feel a little more in your element, turning back to the flashes just as a photographer shouts: "OKAY FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, CAN YOU TWO PLEASE LOOK AT US NOW?!"

a/n: short and sweet. just felt like writing something while i was streaming this stupid event waiting for seungcheol hehe. it ended up being for nothing bc i completely missed him (or the vogue stream didn't show him, i still don't know). edit: the vogue stream didn’t show him. RAGGEDY BITCH BEHAVIOR!!!! anyway, they definitely bang in some isolated bathroom in the museum far away from the party, but i didn't feel like torturing my single brain cell to produce smut today lmao

[cannibal-walleye]

Theoretically, if I started doing commissions (art and potentially writing), would people be interested in that? Idk how much I'd charge yet, but here's some examples of my art + link to my writing to help decide:

More examples under the cut! Varying backgrounds, shading, styles, etc.