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hairmetal666 · 1 month

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Eddie thought inviting Steve to the Grammys would be fine, cool, no big deal. And it should be, but Steve is walking out of the suite's bedroom wearing a burgundy tuxedo that fits him like a fucking glove. His shirt is unbuttoned just enough to let chest hair peak out, and Eddie thinks he might faint.

He's always been attracted to Steve, of course, but never let it go further than that. Like, sure, Steve was hot as fuck, and sure he was the best guy Eddie had ever met, and sometimes, yeah, he did have to force away thoughts of Steve when he jerked off, and in other circumstances he'd totally be head over heels. Just, Steve is straight, the straightest, a fucking arrow.

Eddie tears his eyes from Steve's body. "You look great, man." He slaps Steve's back. Keeping it cool; keeping it so cool.

"Psh," Steve says. "Have you looked in a mirror? Oh my god." His eyes are saucer wide as they travel down Eddie's body.

"Is it too much?" Eddie crosses his arms over his bare chest.

"Are you kidding? You're--fuck, man. You look good as hell."

He's wearing a silky burgundy shirt, open to show off the necklaces around his throat, his tattoos, the silver in his nipples. His pants are leather, tight, sitting low on his hips and putting the cut of his pelvic bone on full display. They have a lace-up closure that comes dangerously close to showing pube.

Heat rushes to his face at the compliment. "It's--you know. Hazard of the job."

"Yeah, hazard, sure. Guess it's a hard life having hot dudes literally throwing themselves at you."

Eddie barks out a laugh. "That's a vast exaggeration."

"Is it?"

He blushes harder. "You're my date tonight, Steve."

"My point exactly."

His manager and publicist usher them out the door before he can ask what the hell that meant.

---

The ride is giddy and playful, Steve popping champagne to celebrate Eddie's nomination for Song of the Year, even though there's no chance in hell he wins.

Steve is happy. His face is bright with joy, eyes shining, laugh loud and infectious. He's gorgeous, knows it, will be an absolute menace on the red carpet. He's been with Eddie to parties and stuff before, doesn't have any anxiety in front of the camera and isn't obsessed with musicians like Eddie is, unafraid to meet them.

Or so Eddie thought.

Because now they're standing at the edge of the red carpet, Steve very nearly trembling next to him.

"Harrington?"

"That's--That's Madonna." Steve points to her. "We're not even ten feet away from Madonna." He gulps. "Eddie. Madonna."

Steve has met famous people before with Eddie. Ozzy, briefly, Janet Jackson, Dave Grohl, James Hetfield, and he'd always been fine. Barely batted an eye. But get him within reaching distance of Madonna and he falls apart.

Eddie doesn't think about it, grabs Steve's hand, twines their fingers together. "Okay?"

The smile Steve throws him, grateful and a little embarrassed, stabs straight through his heart. He calms as they make it up the carpet, but he doesn't drop Eddie's hand, even when they pause for pictures. In fact, he leans into it, drapes his arm around Eddie's shoulders, or around his waist, seeming to thrive the closer they are. Eddie feels this dangerous pull to indulge in it, to let himself believe it means something, and he doesn't quite have it in him to turn it off.

By the time they reach their seats, Steve is relaxed back to his normal charming and handsome self, doesn't bat an eye as Eddie introduces him around.

The show passes quickly with all the performances and Steve whispering jokes in his ear. It's the best time he's ever had at an award show, like he should have been bringing Steve along this whole time. He's so distracted that he's not really ready when Paula Abdul comes out to announce Song of the Year.

His name is read off as a nominee and Steve grabs his hand, squeezes tight. Eddie's heart flips in his chest. He's not paying attention when Paula opens the envelope, too focused on Steve's strong hand holding his. He hears her say, "And the Grammy goes to--" and everything goes fuzzy.

Steve is saying, "oh my god, oh my god, Eddie. Get up, get up."

And his fucking song is playing and everyone is cheering, a couple people slap his back, and oh shit, oh shit, he fucking won. He stands, Steve with him. He thinks they're going to hug, that's what you do in these situations, but Steve is kissing him. Not on the cheek and not a quick peck, but lip-to-lip, soft and sweet.

Steve just kissed him and he has to get on stage and give a speech. He has no idea what he says because Steve just kissed him. On the lips. On purpose. His ears are ringing and words tumble out of his mouth, thinks he says, "couldn't have done it without you, Stevie," before tripping over his feet to get backstage.

Interviews, photographs, congratulations all help him settle. He's still buzzing with the win, but aware enough now to think the kiss had to be an accident. They've been friends for nearly a decade and Steve never seemed interested in men generally or Eddie specifically.

It takes a while to finish up the backstage business, but when he makes it to his seat, Steve just beams at him. He doesn't mention the kiss, which makes Eddie think he's overreacting. It wasn't a big deal. Sure, he could still feel Steve's lips, warm and soft, against his own, but it didn't mean anything. He's just too in his big gay feelings to be objective.

They don't get a chance to really talk until they're back in the limo and on their way to the after-party.

"You won," Steve says.

"I won." Eddie smiles. "Crazy."

"You deserved it."

He shrugs. "I don't know about that."

"Doesn't matter. You did." Steve fidgets with the cuff of his jacket. "About earlier, um. The kiss. I--"

Eddie feels his face heating, heart kicking up. It was nothing, he knows, and Steve shouldn't have to-- "It was an accident. It's okay. I know you don't--it was the heat of the moment and--I know you're not--you don't--"

Steve blinks a lot, emotions flashing across his face faster than Eddie can categorize.

"What if I do?" Steve asks. His voice is too soft, eyes locked on the cuff link he's fiddling with.

"You--what?"

"What if I did mean it?"

"You're straight."

Steve goes pink. "I'm really not."

"Steve?" He shrieks. "Since when?"

"Um. Since you invited me to this?"

"What the fuck?" Eddie shoves him. "What the fuck, man?"

"I know, I know!" Steve pulls his hand through his hair. "You invited me and I freaked out and I didn't know why, and Robin made the saddest little face at me. Said, 'oh, dingus, you didn't know?' How the fuck was I supposed to know!"

"I think you wanting to fuck me should've been a pretty good indication!"

"I thought that happened to everyone!"

"It doesn't!"

"That's what Robin said!"

They're both yelling.

"Jesus christ. Jesus christ," Eddie keeps repeating.

"Look, I get it if you don't want me too, dude. I know that's not how it works, but I've been pretty crazy about you without realizing it for a while now, so--"

He doesn't mean to, he really doesn't, but he laughs. Like, super loud. Like a donkey bray.

"Okay, can the driver let me out? Like, can I go? I can't--"

"Wait, wait, sweetheart." Steve's gotten up, like he's about to knock on the partition, but Eddie grabs his wrist. "Of course I want you back, you idiot, oh my god."

"Oh." Steve's ears are pink. "Oh. Well. That's good."

Eddie huffs. "Just good? I won a Grammy and the guy I've been pining over for years wants me back. I'm having the night of my life."

"Shut-up." Steve's smile is so big, his eyes so bright.

He raises an eyebrow. "Make me," he says in his lowest register, but he's truly not prepared for it when Steve clambers over to him and lowers himself to straddle Eddie's hips.

"Holy shit," Eddie whispers. "Holy shit, Steve."

He give a wry little smile, eyes locked on Eddie's mouth. "Baby, can I kiss you?"

"Yes." Eddie clears his throat. "Yes, please, do that. Yeah."

Only, he doesn't. He's straddling Eddie, they're so close their breath mingles, and Steve's eyes flicker between Eddie's mouth and his eyes, lips so close to touching but not.

"C'mon, asshole," Eddie says.

"I knew you'd be a brat." He whispers. He wraps his hands into Eddie's hair. "Been dying to do this."

And then they're kissing. They're kissing and it steals all of Eddie's breath and his thoughts, and it's new but it's also like they've been kissing forever, like their lips and tongue know each other, like coming home.

He whines, high-pitched and breathy, and Steve laughs, kisses him deeper, moves closer, and Eddie feels how hard Steve is, the persistent pulse of him. And shit Eddie's close, on the brink just from this, from nothing, oh my god.

Steve's hands drift down Eddie's torso, mapping his chest and his stomach, coming to rest at the laces of his pants. "These have been driving me insane," Steve breaks the kiss to say. "Been thinking about undoing them all night."

"Fuck, sweetheart, you can't say shit like that," Eddie groans.

"Why not?"

"Because--because," Eddie sputters but then Steve's lips are on his neck and he's rolling his hips for friction.

Steve's fingers find the laces again, trace against them. Eddie's legs fall open, arching into the touch. "We're going to be so late," he murmurs as Steve's fingers get to work.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #fluff #friends to lovers #famous eddie munson #regular guy steve harrington #feelings confession #oblivious steve harrington #the grand tradition of steve harrington not realizing he's bi #eddie falls first steve falls harder #eddie's so cool about it #grammy award winning eddie munson #vaguely inspired by lupita and joseph at the oscars #driver roll up the partition please #a little bit spicy

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cococaffeinated · 6 months

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🎪A lil continuation of sorts!🎪

Thus, started Jax's "if the gods allowed me to live one more day, I'm gonna make it everyone's problem" coping mechanism! /hj This is just a silly lil headcanon, by the way, in case that needs to be restated~

I drew a lil cameo of the other already-abstracted-folk to put a vague stamp to this period in time, which explains why Kinger here is a lil more "put together".

I just wanted to play around with the silly idea that maybe Kinger and Gangle were the first two people to ground Jax into his new normal. There's no real theory/justification behind this hc, I just love this trio so much and I noticed that a lot of Jax's frames have him between the two and thought that was pretty sweet~!

┏━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━┓ The first part's here 🎪 ┗━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━┛

#the amazing digital circus #Jax #tadc jax #Kinger #tadc kinger #Gangle #tadc gangle #Caine #tadc caine #tadc queenie #tadc kaufmo #cococaffeinatedarts #silly headcanons #I added a 'keep reading' partition so yall don't have to scroll for eternity to get passed it <3

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heritageposts · 6 months

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The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine, by Ilan Pappé (2006, p. 72)

The rhetoric from Israel and their defenders really hasn't changed one bit, has it? Months and months of terrorizing Palestinian villages, and the moment they retaliate, it must be because the Arabs are violent Nazis set to exterminate the oh-so-peaceful Zionist settlers for no other reason than them being Jewish

And what were the Zionists settlers - with Ben-Gurion's explicit approval - doing at the time?

Pappé (2006, p. 58)

Similarly, in the villages:

Pappé (2006, p. 57)

Still the same playbook, 75+ years later...

Also, it's important to understand that these violent attacks against Palestinian cities and villages - and there were many more in the winter of 47/48 than the examples included here - were part of a larger, deliberate operation meant to 'drive out' (i.e. ethnically cleanse) the Native population of Palestine. It didn't matter if the Palestinians were just quietly living their life in the countryside; if they were not Jewish, they would had to go. And if the Zionists could not find a pretext for retaliation, they would make one.

In the aftermath of the UN partition, this operation of ethnic cleansing - without 'pretext' - was not only openly discussed, but approved of, by Ben-Gurion and the rest of the Zionist leadership:

Pappé (2006, p. 64)

What we're seeing today in Gaza - with the collective punishment of 2 million Palestinians - is the continuation of this very same Zionist program of ethnic cleansing that Israel was founded on.

#free palestine #palestine #gaza #these are all quotes from ch. 4 #which deals with the immediate aftermath of the UN partition #starting now on chapter 5 of my rereading #and once again i encourage everyone to read along with me #if you can't afford to buy it there's always libgen (or google author + title + pdf and a copy should come up)

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gwydionmisha · 2 years

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#India #Pakistan #The Partition

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lionfloss · 2 years

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Vintage room dividers

#room divider #partition #folding screen #vintage #antique #decor #design #eclectic #home decor #1k #10k

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aromanticduck · 4 months

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*As in 'friendship that goes back the longest', not the friend who is the oldest. The friendship has to be ongoing to this day - don't count someone you no longer speak to.

#originally this was partitioned by school but not everyone goes to school (and schools vary by country) so i changed it #polls #organic home grown content #friendship

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gothhabiba · 5 months

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[ID: Map of the partition plan approved by the UN general assembly on November 29, 1947. It marks the "Jewish state" in green (all the border to the east with Syria, much of the south and the inland west including the southern half of the Dead Sea; and most of the northern coastline with the Mediterranean Sea) and the "Arab state" in orange (a strip on the western border with Egypt and southern part of the border with the Mediterranean, including Rafah and Gaza; and the mostly inland north including the area where the Jordan flows into the Dead Sea. In purple the "Jerusalem district" in the center of the country is marked. End ID]

But how fair, balanced, pragmatic, and practicable was the UN 1947 partition plan itself? In gross terms, the partition resolution awarded 55.5 percent of the total area of Palestine to the Jews (most of whom were recent immigrants) who constituted less than a third of the population and who owned less than 7 percent of the land. The Palestinians, on the other hand, who made up over two thirds of the population and who owned the vast bulk of the land, were awarded 45.5 percent of the country of which they had enjoyed continuous possession for centuries.

Looking at the situation in greater detail, Palestine was a country of 27 million dunams (4 dunams = 1 acre). Its population in December 1946 was just under 2 million (1,972,000): 1,364,000 Palestinians and 608,000 Jews. The partition plan divided the country into eight sections: three Jewish, three Palestinian, an international enclave (corpus separatum) including municipal Jerusalem and the surrounding villages, and an enclave for Jaffa that would be part of the Palestinian state, albeit completely surrounded by the Jewish state [...].

At the time, one of the arguments frequently raised by the Jews against a unitary state in Palestine had been the unfairness of Arab majoritarian rule over the Jewish minority. Commenting on this argument, the Pakistani delegate at the UN, Muhammad Zafrulla Khan, remarked: "If it is unfair that 33 percent of the population of Palestine [the Jews in the proposed unitary state] should be subject to 67 percent of the population, is it less unfair that 46 percent of the population [the Arabs in the proposed Jewish state] should be subject to 54 percent?" [...]

In terms of land ownership, despite over seventy years of intensive, centrally organized and internationally financed colonization since the early 1880s, Jewish-owned land on the eve of the partition resolution amounted, according to Jewish sources, to 1,820,000 dunams, or less than 7 percent of the total land area of the country. Now, at the bang of his gavel [...], the president of the UNGA [...] "awarded" the Jews 15,000,000 dunams for the Jewish state. Within the borders of this state, Jewish-owned land at its most inflated estimate amounted to 1,678,000 dunams, or 11.2 percent. [...]

But it was not only the extent of the land allotted to the Jewish state that was at issue. The best lands were incorporated within it—most of the fertile coastal plains (from Jaffa to Haifa) and all the interior plains (from Haifa to Baysan and Tiberias). These included almost all the citrus and cereal producing areas. Half of the former and the vast bulk of the latter were owned by Palestinians. Citrus was the main export crop of the country, accounting before World War II for 80 percent of the total value of exports. [...] As if this were not enough, a full 40 percent of Palestinian industry and the major sources of the country's electrical supply fell within the envisaged Jewish state.

[...] Jaffa [...], the historical Palestinian port and vibrant center of Palestinian cultural and social life, was not only confined within its municipal borders, with no living space for any growth or development, but was also cut off from the orange groves that bore its name and were its principal source of economic livelihood. Haifa—the main port of Palestine, the terminal of the oil pipeline from Iraq, the petroleum depot for the entire country, seat of the most active entrepreneurial sectors of Palestinian society [...]—fell squarely within the Jewish state. Many of the other major Arab towns included in the Palestinian state [...] were left just inside its borders but without their most fertile lands or economic hinterlands. The upper reaches of the Jordan River, and therefore control of the major source of riverine water supply to the Palestinian state, were vested in the Jewish state. The whole of Lake Tiberias and its rich fishing industry, traditionally in Palestinian hands, was incorporated within the Jewish state. The bulk of the Palestinian state, restricted to the central highlands, was landlocked with no direct access to the Red Sea southward or the Mediterranean westward. Its two other coastal towns (apart from isolated Jaffa) had no harbors or port facilities. The only airport (near Lydda) in the country with international connections went to the Jewish state, leaving the Palestinian state with no air access either.

– 1997. Walid Khalidi, “Revisiting the UNGA Partition Resolution,” Journal of Palestine Studies 27.1, pp. 5-21.

#Palestine #Palestinian history #UN 1947 partition #Walid Khalidi #quote #long post /

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tanuki-kimono · 5 days

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Dazzling antique furisode (probably a bridal one, or kakeshita), with busy and colorful goshodoki (all season flowers and ancient Heian court items). The hina-ningyo (dolls) are so cute!

#japan #fashion #kimono #furisode #bride kimono #kakeshita #goshodoki #hina ningyo #doll #hiogi #cypress fan #kicho #silk partition #all season flowers #kusudama #flower ball #振り袖 #着物

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hoofpeet · 7 days

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It feels like a lot of the ppl who are asking you to trigger tag the derealization stuff r probably the same people to ask for trigger tags on self harm scars. Like yeah mayb some ppl might be triggered by them but it's also a very real part of someone's body (+life) that they r always living with. And it's weird to ask someone to trigger tag that??? Like what a fucked up thing to say to someone? No you can't have your arms uncovered in your own space because it makes me upset to see that part of you/no you can't make a mild vent post on your own blog because it makes me upset to see that part of your life?? The unfollow/block button is right there goddam. Just walk out you can leave and all that. Anyway ur post really resonated with me and I'm so sorry for all the hate you got over it

YEAH people treating any kind of scarring as some sort of taboo subject is also really annoying to me.. Putting effort into any art starts to not feel worth it when people expect to like. Take everything they want from you while ignoring whatever they don't want to 'deal with'.... very very disheartening to be expected to be quiet about normal parts of my life while. also pouring all my time into making art for other's enjoyment . Like an internet jester

-neway ! Glad my post helped a little at least- it was nice to see others relate to it, so whatever weird discourse it sparked is worth dealing with if it comforted anyone 👍

#mailbox #it's a weird side effect of the expectation that everyone neatly partition‚ label‚ and micro-manage every part of their personality -#to present the most palatable 'persona' possible #to the extent that someone being honest about their lives- including the 'negative' parts #is seen as breaking some sort of unspoken agreement to be quiet about [x problem] so that nobody has to ''deal with it''#and it gets justified as like. it somehow being 'toxic' to acknowledge parts of your life‚ lest it make someone uncomfortable #some of these things. really make me question what exactly people are getting out of tumblr at all

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ghouljams · 7 months

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I know we love to bully faekonig but does their relationship have any tender moments or as tender as those weirdo can get??

Absolutely there are tender moments! This one got away from me, and I got a little misty eyed writing it, even though it's not really anything worth getting teary over.

Sometimes it's hard to be honest with yourself about what you want. You're not in a habit of asking for things. Life has always felt like it's sort of forced itself upon you, things happen to you not for you. Except König you suppose. Despite very clearly forcing his way into your life, and being just generally overpowering in every way you can think of, he asks you things startlingly often. He assumes a lot, but only once he's gotten your smaller answers.

"Do you want to be with me?" He asks out of the blue. He's taken over your couch, making himself comfortable in the way only a man can. Sat in the middle with his legs spread wide, elbows on his knees as he watches you.

The way he says it makes you wonder how long he's been thinking of asking, makes it sound like you've only been putting up with him thus far. You suppose it's a fair question, one you've heard plenty of times. Most people you date get tired of your attitude long before this. He isn't snapping it at you though, hasn't raised his voice or accused you of anything.

"Of course I do," You tell him without looking up from folding laundry. You know the rest of this conversation by heart: 'Then why don't you show it?' or your favorite 'You don't act like you do.' You know that. You know your spines as easily as you know König's, people like them until they realize they can't trim them.

"Then I'll start moving in," König stands. You look up at him in shock, when did you offer that? When- huh?

"Moving in?" You frown, unsure if you heard him right with how huge a leap that is.

"You want to be with me, I want to be with you, why should we be separated?" König tips his head, looks at you like it's the easiest thing in the world to understand.

"That's what you were asking?" You balk.

"What else would I be asking?" You see his brows draw together under his hood, his eyes darting away from you as he thinks.

"If I want to be with you," You cringe a little at your own voice, at König's continued confusion, "like, if I love you, that sort of thing." König sits back down on the couch slowly, stretches his legs long under the coffee table so they rest on either side of you. Creating a space for you within himself.

"You do love me," He tells you carefully.

"I thought you were mad," You explain, though it sounds childish to say it out loud.

"Mad that you love me." He's not getting it, and it's making you sound silly.

"Mad that I don't-" You sigh, not sure how to explain the feeling of disappointment that you seem to carry, seem to inspire in your partners. "Mad that I don't love you enough, I guess. Love you the way you want me to love you," You try.

"How do I want you to love me?"

"Louder, I guess," You try to think of the complaints you'd previously gotten, "in some grand spectacular way, without all the thorns. The way people are loved in movies and fairytales."

"Do you want to be loved like that?"

Your throat feels tight as you settle a neatly folded shirt onto the growing pile. "Not really, I like the quiet. I like how you make me feel, I don't need anything bigger than you."

"Schatz," König's voice sounds strained, when you look at him his eyes are full of concern, "I love your quiet, and your thorns. I love how you don't need me, you want me. I love how you always come find me whether you're happy or sad. I love that you set your alarm early so you can stay in bed longer." König reaches across the coffee table to take your hand, "Liebling, you love me every day, in a million quiet ways. Why would I ever want something louder?"

You swipe your fingers under your eye. It feels an awful lot like having your heart ripped from your chest. You're not sure how that's so pleasant, but it makes it a lot easier to let König direct you around the table to climb onto the couch next to him.

You love how small he makes you feel. You love how he holds you. You love how he knows you, every little detail you think no one notices. You love how he knows your morning tea, and your favorite snacks. That he knows exactly how to put you together again after you've taken yourself apart. You love how he's asking you to move in when he's been living here for months, and how in the morning he'll probably ask you if you want to skip work to celebrate, even though he knows you'll say no. You love that he'll ask anyway, just to make sure you know you always have a choice with him.

And you love that you love him, and he loves you. Spines and all.

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