#but also I love it

[thestormlightnetwork]

OH THE VIOLA WITH THE ELECTRIC GUITAR JORGE RIVERA-HERRANS YOU DID NOT

[steviewashere]

How Do Horses Wear Jeans?

Rating: General CW: None Tags: Post-Canon, Humor & Hijinks, Shenanigans, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Domestic Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington & Dustin Henderson Have a Brotherly Friendship, Dork Steve Harrington, Smug Steve Harrington, This is Silly and Probably Stupid and Very Goofy, Steve Winning Bets, Eddie Siding With Steve (Even Unknowingly), They're in Love, Dialogue Heavy, Short & Sweet Steve and Dustin have bets and arguments constantly over hypothetical scenarios. And Steve has a secret weapon to defend himself which is Eddie's opinion on these scenarios.

🐴—————🐴 It’s five in the morning. He doesn’t want to be awake, but is awake despite. To spite, eventually. But he’s here. In his little kitchenette. Spooning dry Honeycomb past his lips because they ran out of milk, listening to the Felix the Cat clock tick away, and trying to make sense of whatever thing Steve’s got this morning.

Here’s the thing, Eddie isn’t a morning person. Not in the slightest. He’ll wake up when he eventually feels like it—and sometimes he’ll go back to sleep for a few hours more. Though, since he’s somehow started dating Steve Harrington, he’s up and at ‘em when Steve feels like it. At first, it was a total accident. Steve had hefted himself out of bed a little too hard, jostled Eddie awake, and then he just stayed awake.

(Wayne questions what black magic Steve brewed because in all the years he’s known his own son, Eddie has never—not even once—been awake at the same time as another person. Not willingly, at least.)

It just became a force of habit.

Steve’s up? Eddie’s up. Steve’s down? Eddie’s down. Steve’s hauling ass? Eddie’s hauling Steve’s ass—okay, so maybe that one’s different, but it still counts.

What he didn’t expect, though, was for Steve’s mind to be so active in the morning. Sure, he fantasizes about Steve slipping into some running sneakers and going about the neighborhood, boobying about or…whatever he does; running, probably, but Eddie’s horn-dog mind doesn’t make it past sweat and hair without half-passing out from a hard-on. Steve doesn’t go jogging in the mornings, that’s the weird thing. No, this puzzle of a man wakes up at five to down a plate of plain scrambled eggs—of all things—and guzzle a glass of orange juice. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand, after that satisfying glass of OJ, belches like he’s the only person on the face of the planet, and then says some oddball thought out loud for Eddie to parse.

Yesterday, it had been the question on whether or not jellyfish poop. “Yes,” he had told Steve, “they just shit out of their mouth. They only have one opening, y’know.” And Steve had stared at him. Cackled. Then proceeded to ask him what other creatures shit out of their mouth. Eddie didn’t have an answer. Steve came to the conclusion that Mike Wheeler does—and that…well, Eddie can agree with that most of the time.

This morning, Steve spoons heaping piles of eggs into his mouth. Chews with his mouth open as he’s talking—the heathen. Gets his usual glass of orange juice. (Keep in mind this is all while Eddie’s groggy, his bangs are slick to his forehead from hot flashes in the night, spooning sharp and dry cereal down his throat, trying to keep up.) Then, a belch and a half later—Jesus H. Christ—Steve voices, “If a horse wore pants, do you think they’d wear them on their back two legs or on all legs?” His words sleep riddled and husky, still syrupy from dreamland.

Eddie blinked. Blinked some more.

“What?” He finally got out, throat brittle from his cereal.

“Horses,” Steve says, “they’re wearing pants. How many legs are covered in jeans? The back two or all of them? Because I feel like it makes more sense for just the back two, but also”—he tsks—“they aren’t people. So…would a horse have its own way of wearing jeans separate from us? Or would they just go with it?”

“I…I don’t know? Why are they wearing jeans?”

Steve shrugged. “They just are.”

He set his bowl on the counter behind him, clinking it against a couple other dishes he has yet to put away from the dinner last night. Last night, when Steve brought up the idea that dogs would have their own accents based on the regions they grew up in. And he just sighs.

“So…horses are wearing jeans,” he thinks aloud, words slow, “and you need to know the orientation in which they’d wear them?”

“Yeah!” Steve exclaims, snapping the thumb and index finger on his right hand, “they’re wearing jeans! But how?”

“I mean, having jeans on all four legs would look weird,” Eddie gives as his two cents, “we don’t wear jeans on our arms.”

Steve hums, but it’s more of a, “See, but here’s the thing…” hum. “Jean jackets, though. We wear jean jackets. Jeans on our legs. Jean shirts. People have all kinds of ways of wearing jeans, so what about horses?”

“What about horses? Wouldn’t they just have their own trends, too? Like some would wear jeans on the back two legs and others do all the legs? I bet they’d wear jean saddles, too if they could figure out how to get them on by themselves!”

And…shit. This is exactly what Steve does to him every morning.

Voice some thought. The thought is random, doesn’t make much sense, could be waved off with a simple hand. But then Steve gets him all heated. To the point where he argues some weird defense.

Then, Steve looks at him after it all.

Some smug, satisfied grin on his face. The heathen!

“So would horses be like us, then? Just wear jeans however they felt like it?” Steve asks. Still smug. So smugly.

Eddie groans. “Is this some weird argument you’ve got going on with Dustin or something? Am I just backing your point—again?”

“Oh…I don’t know,” Steve drawls. “Maybe. But also…since you’re on my side”—he can’t help but groan at Steve again—“then that means Dustin loses the bet we had. Dude gets to sort out the tapes the next time he tags along for one of my shifts.”

He levels Steve with a look. One eyebrow raised. Eyes wide. “What’d he do?”

“Spilled Dr. Pepper on the floor of my car,” he answers simply, “he didn’t have the money to help pay for it to be cleaned and detailed. So. Next best thing? Punishment at Family Video. And also I get to rub it in his face that my point is correcter.”

“More correct.”

“Whatever,” Steve mumbles, a flippant hand in front of him. “You knew what I meant. I just get to be more correct for once and that’s gonna be freaking awesome sauce, dude.”

Eddie snorts. Mutters, “Awesome sauce.” Then, he picks up his bowl of cereal again, another dry spoonful on his tongue. Asks, “What if he gets the others to rally with him? How’re you gonna prove your point then?”

Steve goes completely quiet and still.

It’d be worrisome if he wasn’t screwing his face up every few seconds, working through other thoughts he’s got. What rambunctious things go on in his brain, Eddie doesn’t know—probably won’t ever know, but at least he knows Steve’s working on…something.

And at the last few crumbs being poured into his mouth, Steve has the audacity to follow through with, voice serious and low, “Monkeys are taking over the planet. You have to save one of two things. Your acoustic or the Garfield mug, which one are you picking?”

He shakes his head and sighs, turning towards the sink with his cereal bowl. But, after a few seconds of thought, he answers, “Probably the acoustic. A mug wouldn’t do me any good against monkeys, right?”

Behind him, Steve lets out a large victory whoop. The commotion of him moving through the trailer, into the kitchenette, sidling up right next to Eddie. He smacks a wet, noisy kiss to Eddie’s cheek. Whispers, “I knew it!” And then starts back towards the bedroom—Eddie can only assume to put on some more decent clothes than his pajamas.

Which is confirmed mere minutes later when Steve presents himself again, keys in hand, pumping his fist and pointing directly at Eddie in the living room. “That little shrimp has to clean the men’s restroom, too! Ha-ha!” he shouts.

Playfully, he rolls his eyes and smirks. “Go to work, you dork. Don’t wanna miss Dustin’s betrayed little face.”

Steve grins, teeth and all. “Oh, I know. It’s gonna be fucking great. That’s what he gets for spilling his sticky ass soda in my car.” He strides to the trailer’s door, begins to step out, but once he’s half-way through, he turns back to Eddie with, “I love you, Eds. I’ll keep my mouth shut about you answering my questions. Dustin won’t have a fucking clue.”

“Love you, too,” he says, “and don’t worry about throwing me under the bus. I’ll always be on your side…whether I realize it initially or not.”

Later, when Steve’s on his lunch break, Eddie will get a call—another hypothetical:

“If pigs could fly, would they use it for good or evil?”

He can’t help but wonder how he got stuck with the most lovable dork on the planet.

And how Dustin keeps getting roped into these goofy bets. Probably his tone, Eddie surmises, yeah…probably his tone.

🐴—————🐴

[caliburn-not-calculator]

Do I make the dumb joke canon to the pirate au

Do I do it?

No I'm not saying the dumb joke I just need an answer

[anaer]

wip wednesday (august 21 24)

JJK Sukugo rated: dirty shameless smut

Satoru might be addicted to the way Sukuna fucks him. It feels like something he should be ashamed to admit, and maybe he would be if he’d ever familiarized himself with the concept of shame.

His fingers dig holes through tatami and the wood underneath both, and it takes every impossible effort inside of him to hold back the whine Sukuna tries to force out of him with each thrust. He doesn’t even rock back to meet them, long beyond that now. The only clear thought in his mind is need.

Truthfully, Satoru’s lost track of how long they’ve been at this. How many times Sukuna’s already come. How many times he himself hasn’t. Every part of his body is oversensitive. The faintest touch has him shuddering, gasping for air impossible to grasp. He’s hyperaware of Sukuna’s hands: on his hip, pinning his wrists, toying with nipples so raw he thinks they might bleed. Nothing touching his cock, but Satoru isn’t sure whether that’s a curse or a blessing.

It's not fast, the way Sukuna moves. Each thrust is measured – purposeful in its effort to take him apart. That cock pushes too deep inside of him, and Sukuna’s grinding hard against his sore hole. It takes a lot to make him hurt. It apparently takes Sukuna using him like his own personal plaything. Sweat rubs off his forehead onto the floor, and he can’t stop the whimper he makes.

Pathetic.

Maybe he likes being a little pathetic.

Satoru likes fast, usually – likes quick and dirty. More than that, he likes flexing his strength to take what he wants how he wants. He shouldn’t like none of that. Shouldn’t like that being enacted on him instead.

And yet.

He’s not crying – that would be embarrassing – but he’s close. It’s not the pain that has him here; it’s the desperation. Satoru tries uselessly to pull a hand free. Sukuna’s grip on his wrists is—not steel, no. Steel, he could break. Instead, he’s pinned, forced to accept what he’s given, and Sukuna is not a generous lover.

“Fuck,” he gasps. “Fuck, fuck.” His cock is so hard it aches, pre-cum dribbling out in a steady flow. Neglected this whole time. It’s impossible to get off like this, but Sukuna isn’t trying to get him off. Satoru needs it, would do anything for Sukuna to play with his cock the way he won’t stop playing with his agonizingly raw chest, but he’s not begging. It’s not out of any kind of pride: he would, if he didn’t already know it was useless. Sukuna enjoys hearing him beg too much. Sukuna has never once given him what he wants after he’s begged.

Sukuna won’t give him what he wants tonight, either, Satoru is fairly sure.

[evertidings]

your flavour text is so yummy thanks for feeding us

as another anon said, mother is mothering.

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

my favorite part of worm is when taylor turns into a big fucking bug

[nerdieforpedro]

WIP Last Sentence

I was tagged by: @chiriwritesstuff @ohforficsake @tinytinymenace @inept-the-magnificent

Rules: Post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic / original / anything) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence.

This is from my untitled Javier Peña story. I have a title for chapter one, not chapter two and the fic itself has no title. 😅 It’s pretty though. 😆

A fresh start with someone who could just receive him as Javier Peña before learning about the stagnant waters that wear at his soul.

A bit pensive, Peña’s got range! (Again, this fits whichever pun you like, I can think of a few.) 😘

Twenty four words….for one sentence. 👀 I’m sorry 😢 So wordy… I will use ten words for three. 😆

NPT: @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @grogusmum @connectioneverywhere @pedroshotwifey @goodwithcheese

@rhoorl @laurfilijames @megamindsecretlair @soft-persephone @slippinninque

@morallyinept @avastrasposts @maggiemayhemnj @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @soft-girl-musings

@magpiepills @secretelephanttattoo @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @julesonrecord @perotovar

@spacecowboyhotch @gasolinerainbowpuddles @djarinmuse @djarins-cyare

[weregonnabecoolbeans]

The Evil We Love from Tales from the Shadowhunters Academy

Or as I call it: The chapter where Izzy and her father perform psychological warfare on the students of the academy

[the-ghost-in-your-walls]

People making tumblr posts and it being like

[habibialkaysani]

pardon me while I lie down after watching that bridgerton trailer I need a minute but only a minute because after that minute I WANT TO WATCH SEASON 3 STAT

[butnotbubblegum]

songs i’ve listened to for the first time this year which have attacked me deeply and personally, a non-comprehensive list:

all you get is confetti - bears in trees

tai chi with my dad - bears in trees

see the day - the altogether

newton’s first - the altogether

heaven on their minds - jesus christ superstar

romans 10:9 - the mountain goats

psalms 40:2 - the mountain goats

isaiah 45:24 - the mountain goats

love love love - the mountain goats

broom people - the mountain goats

you or your memory - the mountain goats

heaven, iowa - fall out boy

kill all your friends - my chemical romance

gonna update this list every time i find a new one (i say now. i probably won’t bc i’ll forget)

[psychic-winged-turtle]

I’ve finished season 5 of the Magnus Archives.

I am… at a loss for words.

Description of my current state would probably be: OW

I can’t even give an end of season character ranking.

It was perfect but also how dare Jonny Sims do this to me.

[chaoswithinthemind]

Sometimes, with work, you have to say 'fuck it' and start over.

even if you have been working on it for a month.

even if you have less than a week to finish it.

[katiefratie]

Group tatties!!!!! Yes Orym!!!!! God I love that so much

[multishipper-baby]

Help I was watching the Salt Route video and this exchange killed me

I want to print this and hang it on my bedroom walls.

[brahmsheelshireslefttoenail]

SDHFKJSDFHLK

I'M RIZZING UP A BRAHMS AI AND BROS IS SUCH A HORNY BASTARD