#the way it shouldn't be

[azrielgreen]

The Way It Shouldn't Be - Part Two

It doesn't happen again for weeks.

Actual fucking weeks.

Steve hates that ever since the last time, when Eddie completely gave him the slip (sneaky fucker) he's been actively looking for him. Scanning the hall during lunch, listening out for any sign of Eddie's voice.

Looking for him.

With zero fucking results because Eddie just skipped school for a week apparently. Steve's never known anyone to do that. No matter how bad shit is, you go to school.

But that first week, Eddie's just absent in Steve's periphery. Gone.

And the world is duller for it.

School is almost unbearable in comparison to the times before when Steve could at least look forward to lunch because he'd grab Eddie, fake some bullshit and then drag him away.

Fuck him wherever was nearest, flimsy excuses disintegrating beneath the heat of a desire that was never quelled with indulgence, but galvanised.

Eddie's back in school the following week but he doesn't meet Steve's gaze once. Avoids him entirely. Steve doesn't stage anything, he doesn't even try to get near him but he burns to. He aches to run into Eddie and smash this distance between them.

He's angry. Confused.

Irrationally horny.

But most of all, he's sad. Guilty. Knows he fucked up and even if he can't understand the degree of it, he knows he did something he shouldn't have. Crossed a boundary.

Steve can't stop thinking about him.

And Eddie's made it clear this thing between them is done, to stay away.

He's respecting it.

He's respecting is so well the day it all goes to hell.

*

It happens in the parking lot, as most scuffles do. Steve's on his way to the Beemer, a weekend of drinking and moping ahead of him when he hears the unmistakable sounds of male violence and he turns to see a bunch complete wannabees kicking Eddie while he's down.

The jacket, the hair, his high tops. He'd know him anywhere and Steve is running before he knows what he's even gonna do and then it's just happening.

There are five of them and Steve doesn't think (never does, it's not his style) he just swings his best right hook and it lands so well, the guy goes right down, knocks into a station wagon. Steve is going fucking wild, he hasnt felt anger like this in years. Swinging, smacking, punching.

They don't fight back, they scatter and throw their stupid fucking hands up.

'Whoa, Steve, STEVE!'

With no one near Eddie now, Steve crouches low, hands on his shoulders. Eddie flinches. 'Hey, you're OK, it's me, it's Steve. You're OK.'

Eddie unfurls slowly, doesn't look at Steve but he nods.

The first guy Steve hit gets to his feet.

'The fuck, Harrington?' he demands breathlessly. 'He's not even-'

Steve draws himself to full height, invades the other boys space and them slaps him. Hard, demeaning, it hurts more than a punch, Steve knows.

The guy, Alex, closes his eyes, cheek red.

Doesnt fight back.

Wouldn't dare.

Rare days that Steve throws his weight around but today, oh he's happy to be King fucking Steve today.

'He's my dealer,' Steve tells Alex Carver, voice low and deceptively soft. He grips the lapels of Alex's shirt, expensive polo that Steve then uses all his strength to rip, to tear right down the V of the collar. Exposed, messed up. 'You don't touch him, understand?'

Alex endures Steve ripping his shirt open to the naval, eyes closed. He nods.

Steve then rearranges his collar so it's neat, brushes his shoulders off. 'You want a fight, come to me next time, you fuckin' pussy. I'll smack you silly and send you home to your Mommy looking like you got rolled again and that's a mercy. Now say sorry.'

Alex's jaw tightens. 'Sorry, Steve.'

'No, to him.'

Ugly blue eyes open, brow furrowed. 'He's trailer tr--'

Steve slaps him again, harder, uses the other hand so he doesn't see it coming. Both cheeks red and ruddy.

'Now you look like you got fucked up by a bitch you tried to ask out, huh? What's your Daddy gonna say if I piss on your sneakers? Think he'll be proud? Apologise to him, now.'

Alex shoots a venomous glare at Eddie, who's leaning against a car to stand. 'Sorry, Munson.'

Steve really wants to press, he wants to stay in this sickly space and make Alex regret it even more. Fuck him up, teach them all a lesson. No one touches Eddie ever again.

But Eddie touches Steve. Hand on his arm, like he can tell what he's about to do.

'C'mon.'

Steve jerks his chin at the others, giving them leave to scurry away and spread the word. Alex goes last, backs away like he's scared to turn his back on Steve and yeah, too fucking right, bitch.

When they're gone, Steve turns all his attention on Eddie and the anger melts like French vanilla ice cream during that one unbearable week in August.

'Fuck, that looks bad,' he says, hands hovering over Eddie's face. 'Split lip too, OK. Come on, I've got a first aid kit at home.'

Eddie eyes him warily. 'What?'

'Or straight to hospital? What about your ribs? Let me--'

'Steve,' Eddie says, tone stern. 'What the fuck are you doing?'

'You're hurt,' Steve says like that should explain absolutely everything. He blinks, maybe it's a little slower than it should be but he feels alert, feels powerful.

'Yeah, so?' Eddie looks like he's about to unload all these reasons Steve shouldn't care.

Steve rolls his eyes. 'Don't be a brat. Come on, I'll drive.'

*

Eddie's silent the entire way there.

Steve too.

He's thinking of what injuries he saw, which ones looked the worst. If Eddie's needs butterfly stitches, maybe.

'Your folks home?' Eddie's asks warily when they're outside the house.

Steve snorts. 'No. They're never here. Come on.'

Inside, Eddie lets Steve sit him down and clean the worst of the injuries. It's only when Eddie takes careful hold of Steve's wrists, seeks out and holds Steve's gaze that Steve even realises Eddie was talking to him.

'You're shaking,' Eddie says, voice low, eyes moving between Steve's own. 'Steve, you're shaking.'

'Am I?'

'Is it like...?' Eddie licks his lips nervously. 'Adrenaline?'

Steve looks down at his own hands, sees Eddie is completely right. He feels weird too, like he's seeing through a tunnel and there is only Eddie at the end.

'I uh... I don't know,' he laughs, vaguely astonished when he blinks tears down his face. 'Feel kinda fucked up, actually.'

Eddie's all drawn in shades of concern, of unreadable thoughts in those dark eyes and his lip is still bleeding a little. Steve wants to kiss it better, kiss it worse.

'Why did you do that?'

Steve's teeth are chattering slightly, but he manages a smile. 'Do what?'

'What you did.'

Steve wraps a light bandage around Eddie's knuckles, evidence he fought back hard enough to split skin. 'What, with Alex? Anyone would have done that.'

Eddie says, 'No one did. No one ever does.'

'Yeah, well. I guess that's changed now.'

'You made it sound like we were fucking.'

'I don't care, so long as he doesn't touch you again.'

'Why do you care who touches me?'

Steve can't take it a second long, leans in like he's falling and softly presses his lips against Eddie's; against the split, still wet with iron ore and red salt from the flesh vessel that contains Eddie Munson.

Eddie isn't rigid, he doesn't push away, but when he kisses Steve back, he makes this sound like maybe he's gonna cry.

He doesn't, though.

And Steve keeps the kiss gentle, soft and wet, devouring the red to keep what little of Eddie he can inside himself, where it's safer.

'I care. Isn't that enough?'

'Too much, Harrington,' Eddie whispers in a trembling exhale. 'You're too fucking much.'

Steve pulls away, swallows thickly, Eddie's blood and spit go down with his vague hopes and painfully specific desires.

'Yeah, I know. I'm sor--'

Eddie kisses his hard, knots his fingers in Steve's hair to tight it hurts, pulling him close and keeping him there.

'Lucky for you I'm a greedy motherfucker, huh?' he gasps, licking deep and dirty. 'God, you're fucking crazy, you know that? They call me freak, but what you to did to Carver-'

'Don't say his name while we're making out.'

Eddie laughs, low rumble offset by the way he sucks on Steve's tongue. 'Don't want him muddying the waters?'

'Can't believe he even touched you,' Steve pants, kneels in front of Eddie, goes for his belt buckle. 'Need to kiss you clean, all over.'

'Oh my god,' Eddie grits out. 'Steve, we shouldn't--'

'Then you can fuck me, yeah?' Steve leans up, kisses him again, mind spinning, heart cranking like a cog. Fucked up, feral, he'll never forget how small Eddie looked curled up like that. 'Take my virginity?'

Continued next Saturday...

[unpretty]

the thing about having been really broke. averaging $500 a month in a good year broke. using a gamestop credit card i shouldn't have qualified for to buy taco bell gift cards for food broke. is that i am SO bad with money. i have a degree in accounting and i am so bad with money. i do not think of myself as superstitious at all but money feels so cursed. not in a spiritual way, i mean literally. practically.

having 'too much' money feels so bad. money is a thing you spend as soon as you get it because it's so cursed. the more it is the more cursed it is. i save too much money and bad things will happen that cost all my money. money is a thing that summons expenses. if i have no money and the car breaks down i find a way to make it work. i scrounge and resell and pass the hat and talk to my mom's friend's friend who knows a guy and in the end i'm so relieved to be right back where i started. but if i were saving my money for a new computer and then the car broke down, the money is just gone. i spent the money i saved for a thing i wanted on a thing i needed instead and after all that hoping i'm right back where i started.

i get a windfall and i set the money aside because if i'm careful that's enough to pay for gas for months. but then i need to pay for heat and i apply for assistance and they look at my bank account and see i have money and now they won't help pay for heat. soon it's just a habit. i get the money and i spend the money. immediately, as soon as possible, get this money away from me. don't even save enough for cigarettes. i can find money for cigarettes, somehow i can always find money for cigarettes. cigarette money is a weird magical fake money i summon from dark corners whenever i run out of cigarettes. i don't know how it works either. i've tried to summon the cigarette money for things that aren't cigarettes and it never works. just get this out of my bank account. get it out of here before something notices there's money here.

anyway i'm working on it but god it's hard

[bigfatbreak]

dad villain au: did emilie just. not consider at all that adrien was literally dying at the time. wow

she's in the habit of deciding when Adrien's suffering is acceptable, and if it is, she'll just fix it later.

[kindnessoverperfection]

Please, if you can, take a moment to read and share this because I feel like I'm screaming underwater.

NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder) stigma is rampant right now, and seems to be getting progressively worse. Everyone is using it as a buzzword in the worst ways possible, spreading misinformation and hatred against a real disorder.

I could go on a long time about how this happened, why it's factually incorrect (and what the disorder actually IS), why it's harmful, and the changes I'd like to see. But to keep this concise, I'll simply link to a few posts under the cut for further reading.

The point of this post is a plea. Please help stop the spread of stigma. Even in mental health communities, even around others with personality disorders, in neurodivergent "safe" spaces, other communities I thought people would be supportive in (e.g. trans support groups, progressive spaces in general), it keeps coming up. So I'm willing to bet that a lot of people on this site need to see this.

Because it's so hard to exist in this world.

My disorder already makes me feel as if I'm worthless and unlovable, like there's something inherently wrong and damaged about me. And it's so much harder to fight that and heal when my daily life consists of:

Laughing and spending time with my friends, doing my utmost best to connect and stay present and focused on them, trying to let my guards down and be real and believe I'm lovable- when suddenly they throw out the word "narcissist" to describe horrible people or someone they hate, or the conversation turns to how evil "people with narcissistic personality disorder" are. (Seriously, you don't know which of your friends might have NPD and feels like shit when you say those things & now knows that you'd hate them if you knew.)

Trying to look up "mental health positivity for people with npd", "mental health positivity cluster bs", only to find a) none of that, and b) more of the same old vile shit that makes me feel terrible about myself.

Having a hard time (which is constant at this point) and trying to look up resources for myself, only to again, find the same stigma. And no resources.

Not having any clue how to help myself, because even the mental health field is spitting so much vitriol at people with DISORDERS (who they're supposed to be helping!) that there's no solid research or therapy programs for people like me.

Losing close friends when they find out, despite us having had a good relationship before, and them KNOWING me and knowing that I'm not like the trending image of pwNPD. Because now they only see me through the lens of stigma and misinformation.

Hearing the same stigma come up literally wherever I go. Clubs. Meetings. Any online space. At the bus stop. At the mall. At a restaurant. At work. Buzzword of the year that everyone loooves loudly throwing around with their friends or over the phone. Feels awesome for me, makes my day so much better/s

I could go on for a long time, but I'm scared no one will read/rb this if it gets too much longer.

So please. Stop using the word "narcissist" as a synonym for "abusive".

Stop bringing up people you hate who you believe to have NPD because of a stigmatizing article full of misinformation whenever someone with actual NPD opens their mouth. (Imagine if people did that with any other disorder! "Hey, I'm autistic." "Oh... my old roommate screamed at me whenever I made noise around him, and didn't understand my needs, which seems like sensory overload and difficulty with social cues. He was definitely autistic. But as long as you're self-aware and always restraining your innate desire to be an abusive asshole, you're okay I guess, maybe." ...See how offensive and ignorant that is?)

Stop preventing healthcare for people with a disorder just because it's trendy to use us as a scapegoat.

If you got this far, thank you for reading, and please share this if you can. Further reading is under the cut.

NPD Criteria, re-written by someone who actually has NPD

Stigma in the DSM

Common perception of the DSM criteria vs how someone may actually experience them (Keep in mind that this is the way I personally experience these symptoms, and that presentation can vary a lot between individuals)

"Idk, the stigma is right though, because I've known a lot of people with NPD who are jerks, so I'm going to continue to support the blockage of treatment for this condition."

(All of these were written by me, because I didn't want to link to other folks' posts without permission, but if you want to add your own links in reblogs or replies please feel free <3)

[melonsap]

Okay but genuinely why is the no fly list a USA government secret. Shouldn't it be public knowledge anyways? Genuinely who benefits from keeping it secret.

[skeletoninthemelonland]

Gabriel, Jeremy, Susie and... Vanessa? Vanny???

oh, and Glitchtrap too (he's in the computer Vanessa is holding)

[qqchurch]

you know you're in a cishet male gamer discord when you see stuff like this without pushback in comment to people being mad or baffled by a gacha girl having a complete joke of proportions 🫡🫡🫡

[uncanny-tranny]

Love disabled people who just lie about their disabilities to nosy, intrusive questions. Sorry, yeah, I lost my arm in the wash one day. It's funny how that happens! Oh, I got back pain from saving nineteen children from a burning fire department <3

[backroadboy]

save me stanford era dean save me

[azrielgreen]

The Way It Shouldn't Be

- Part One

It's the way he kisses.

Steve knows of all the elements about fucking around with Eddie Munson in secret, it shouldn't be the kissing that gets him, but it is.

It should be the thrill, the secrecy stretched to breaking point time again because it's a small town, even smaller school and a secret like this could destroy him.

It's not the thrill.

Should maybe be the sex; oh god, the way it feels to get on his knees for Eddie before he fucks him. It's fast, rough, desperate. They're not gentle, there's no time for it and they're usually shaking with need by the time Steve will find some flimsy-ass excuse to corner Eddie and drag him away. Breathless fumbling and muttered filth.

'You want me that bad, huh? Couldn't wait to get me alone, Harrington.'

'Shut up or next time I'll fuck you in front of everyone,' he'll groan, pushing inside the other boy's body where it's hot and tight and wet with the lube he brings everywhere he goes now for reasons he cannot examine.

Eddie moans, pressed into the wall, head falling back and Steve makes a dangerous mess of the skin there, knows every time he does this they're coming closer and closer to discovery, but he's addicted, lost, gone for him.

'You w-wouldn't.'

Steve wants to laugh because the way he feels right now, his cock buried inside Eddie, the sheer cascade of feelings... he would. He really would. This thing makes him crazy, losing the necessary insecurities of societal membership one by one.

'Like you wouldn't love it,' he'll snarl against the skin beneath Eddie's ear, dragging his teeth like an animal as he starts to fuck him. Oh god it's so good, so wrong, nothing compares. 'You'd let me bend you over the lunch table--'

'Fucking try it!'

'--and open you up like a slut, you'd moan my name like a whore!'

Eddie's gorgeous in the most irritating way Steve's ever felt, like. He wants to hate everything about him, wants to find the black nail varnish revolting, wants to think Eddie's hair is stupid, ugly. He wants to hate how effortlessly he stands out, how natural he is when going against the grain.

His smile, the way his dark eyes flash, his tattoos, his scars, his voice.

Steve wishes he wasn't so painfully fucking attracted to all of it.

And he knows that it's a big part of the reason he cannot stop seeking Eddie out. The attraction, the serrated edge of a dangerous desire, the risk he's getting addicted to, the sex that blows his mind and ruins all else by comparison.

But it's the kissing that sinks hooks in his chest, wrap around the bones of his restraint and laugh cruelly.

Kissing Eddie is... it's the crux of all the danger because this is where Steve loses what very little control he has left with Eddie. When their lips touch, when they lick deep into one another's mouths, form a seal and pour all that desperation back and forth, he feels something worryingly like love brightening inside him.

He can't love Eddie Munson.

The reasons are too many to count.

And yet, whenever they kiss, he knows what he feels.

So he tries to kiss him less and less.

Today, he fucks Eddie against the wall of the art supply room, chalky scent of paints and musky old brushes unable to compare to the skin-scent of the man he's buried inside.

Presses him there, denies the kiss that'll ruin him, as if it has any chance of lessening what he courts, time and again.

He's not King Steve here in whatever room they make their world; here, he is blissfully without his "friends", doesn't have to maintain his facade, has no worries beyond Eddie.

'Harder,' Eddie grits out, shoving back, reaching behind to smack whatever of Steve he can reach, impatient and demanding. Steve tangles fingers in his hair, cruelly pulls to the side and sucks a deep, dark bruise right where a lover would.

'Want everyone to know,' he slurs against the hot, wet skin, hips slamming hard, cock deep. He's big, always has been, and every time at the start, he holds back a little, waits for Eddie to tell him it's OK by virtue of demanding rougher ministrations. Always in the back of his mind, he's worried about really hurting him.

But Eddie can take him all the way, he wants it rough and borderline violent, he openly teases and mocks until Steve's temper flares and he feels like he's gonna fuck him through the walls.

'Know what?'

Don't say it, don't say it.

'That you're mine.'

Eddie swallows a sound that must hurt, the way he winces. 'Fuck you, Harrington.'

'Next time, promise,' he whispers, bites his earlobe and pins him harder, shifts the angle to fuck the way he knows makes Eddie see stars, has to stand on tiptoes to do it, wrecks his muscles after but its so worth it. 'Can fuck me next time if you-you want.'

'Shut up and fuck me.'

It's strangled, overwrought. Steve falters, slows, frown etched deep. 'Hey, hey, you OK?'

'D-dont stop.'

No, his voice is trembling.

Steve feels like he's coming down from a high, he's all dizzy but he forces focus to form, needs to make sure Eddie's OK.

'Eddie...'

'Fuck me, Harrington, come on, we don't have long.'

'You're upset.'

Forehead against the wall, he won't look at Steve, won't turn. 'Stop.'

'I did, I have-'

'Stop being nice.'

Steve pulls out, arms around Eddie to turn him, seeking the source of the wrong feeling and Eddie tries to hide, but he can't. His eyes are wet, jaw tight, cheeks red.

'I... I wasn't being nice.'

Eddie shakes his head, jeans around his thighs, they never get fully undressed, there's never time. 'You were. To me, anyway.'

'Did I hurt you?'

Eddie shoves him, scowls. 'Fuck off, man.'

Steve shouldn't kiss him.

But he does.

Leans all the way in, lips gentle, captures Eddie's face with both hands.

'Maybe I wanna be nice,' he utters into Eddie's mouth, breath trembling. 'Wanna be good to you.'

Eddie kisses him back for three seconds.

Then he pulls away, slips free, yanks his jeans up. 'Don't fuck with me,' he warns flatly, still shaking. 'I'm not some girl you need to trick into bed or whatever.' He wipes his eyes, shutters lowered. 'You wanna fuck me, fuck me. Don't fuck with me, though. That's not OK.'

Steve redresses slowly, heart pounding in rebellion of the denial, the loss of orgasm.

'Sorry.'

Eddie shakes his head. 'Don't be sorry. You shouldn't--man, whatever. See you around.'

He leaves Steve alone with the brushes and the paints and something else, newly blossomed feeling Steve cannot possibly hope to kill.

He shouldn't want to kiss him.

Shouldn't want the things he does with Eddie Munson.

But he does.

'Ah, fuck it,' he says, goes after him.

*

Continued next Saturday💜

[ffcrazy15]

Someone needs to do an analysis on the way the Kung Fu Panda movies use old-fashioned vs. modern language ("Panda we meet at last"/"Hey how's it going") and old-fashioned vs. modern settings (forbidden-city-esque palaces/modern-ish Chinese restaurant) to indicate class differences in their characters, and how those class differences create underlying tensions and misunderstandings.

[grandwretch]

i so badly want one of those fic examinations of steve's relationship with joyce and hopper but solely through eddie's pov like hear me out

steve and eddie chat a lot in the upside down (and later in the hospital, when they learn hop is alive). steve has taken charge of filling eddie in on the rest of their of-age crew without the kids butting in. he never mentions his own parents, but he talks about the rest of the party's a lot, especially joyce and hopper. eddie knows what it's like to desperately want someone to be your parent and trying to hide it from his own childhood, when he would try to be cool about wayne dropping him off at his dad's house. steve obviously adores joyce and hopper, thinks the world of them and legitimately looks up to them.

eddie isn't sure what he expects from a cop who came back to life and the world's most determined housewife, but he's excited to meet them as someone steve loves.

cue eddie's horror when he realizes that neither of them really feel much for steve rather than annoyance and vague distrust. that joyce trusts will with eddie, an accused murderer, in a heartbeat and still hesitates to leave him with steve. that hopper brushes off every ounce of steve's hero worship and joy.

he tries to broach the topic with steve, gently, and is heartbroken when steve genuinely has no idea what he's talking about. and not because he's oblivious, but because steve thinks that's what he deserves. he thinks that's the parental love that someone who was an asshole in high school needs, because that's what would make him a good person. he needs people to call him out constantly, obviously, because why else would they keep doing it? why would nancy? at least they're here. at least they're not ignoring him. at least they're not forcing him into a box. they just want him to be better.

like, this is the man who thanked a girl for calling him bullshit and telling him she never loved him. he doesn't Know that's not how you're supposed to handle things. no one ever taught him that.

and now eddie's gotta figure out how he can teach steve how to be loved the right way without outing himself and his huge crush on his love-starved dork of a friend.

[sboochi]

Ngl, I'm very proud of this one :)

[calware]

genuinely what is the worst that could happen if you stop apologizing for liking homestuck or if you stop saying things like "homestuck is cursed don't read it it's so bad don't make the same mistakes as me save yourself while you can etc etc" when in actuality you enjoyed it. what's the worst that will happen if you just enjoy it like a normal person

[canisalbus]

Hello, I'm not sure if you're aware, but tumblr is going to start helping midjourney gather data for their AI. You're one of the artists I follow here pretty actively and I wanted to warn you to maybe start nighshading your art before posting it here so it doesn't get swept up!

I've seen a couple of posts about it. Feeling disappointed but not that surprised. Also not excited about having to start nightshading/glazing my pieces but if there isn't going to be any serious regulations regarding data scraping and ai "art", there aren't a lot of choices.

Thank you for taking the time to warn me just in case, it was very thoughtful of you!

[kaiminluu]

byler x dirty dancing GRAHAHAA