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#or italics :(
maglorslostsilmaril · 2 years
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i think there should be away to have uppercase letters on caps lock already. like, i’m yelling, but i want to yell louder
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lauriemarch · 8 months
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and at the end of the day, people will still hate women.
because beyonce is a terrible songwriter who has a good body and nothing more and she's really nothing compared to olivia rodrigo, that stuck-up bitch who steals other people's music, but taylor swift is an old, bitter nothing who clearly hates other girls. and sabrina carpenter deserves to die because she followed her heart, not her brain, and that's exactly why zendaya will never be good enough for tom holland. don't forget about kylie jenner, who's stealing precious timothee's innocence away and dating her is like committing arthouse cinema suicide, or how we said the same thing about miley cyrus and her disgusting profanity, think of the children, poor liam hemsworth, trapped in a marriage with such a horrible woman. lana del rey was hot until she was big and she made trailerpark sexy until her ass got a little too fat. and ariana grande, talentless homewrecker, and selena gomez, jealous and unreasonable, and hailey bieber, even more boring than the blood drying on the knives you are so quick to pull. sophie turner is a bad mom and megan thee stallion deserved whatever was coming to her.
and amidst all of this, we still don't know these women. we cannot fathom the pain of having a public divorce, one where people choose sides and hurl insults at you until the battery on their phone dies. we don't watch them chase after sweet-cheeked children in tucked-away backyards or play board games with their best friends while their chests heave in laughter. we don't know their marriages and we don't know their solitudes. we don't watch them unravel themselves, time and time again, preparing for the battle that we have made of their lives. they can never make a mistake. they can never cry. they can never be who they believe themselves to be.
and we take all of this and we go to work, we ride the bus, we go grocery shopping, we walk in dappled sunlight, and we let ourselves shrivel. i compare myself to every body i see and i comfort in the fact that i can still encircle my wrists with my fingers. food turns to dust in my mouth when i think about the fact that taylor swift thinks she's fat and people still hate sabrina carpenter for sticking by joshua bassett's side when he almost died, for God's sake, and now the people on my twitter feed are saying GUTS is the worst album they've ever heard. i liked it, the tiny voice in my head cries out. she wrote songs that made me feel noticed. they're calling the song i relate to the most a total skip.
so i close the app. i try not to think about the endless profiles screaming about how much they hate a nineteen/thirty-two/thirty-eight/twenty-three/twenty-six/forty-two year old. i try not to think about how much they would hate me, if they knew anything at all.
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lastweekgifs · 2 months
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theroundbartable · 2 months
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Arthur: what are you doing?
Gwen: *watching a couple* matchmaking
Arthur: what's that?
Gwen: I'm like a hitman. Only that my objective is to get people together and not shoot them.
Arthur: ... Is that a thing? You can do that?
Gwen: sweety, I can do anything, I'm Gwen
Arthur: can you matchmake me and Merlin?
Gwen: consider it done
After they got together:
Merlin: I hear you're a hitman
Gwen: how can I help, dear?
Merlin: I need a hitman. I have my eye on someone who needs to motherfucking DIE
Arthur: she's not that kind of -
Gwen: *already taking out her guns* give me a name
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imagine-darksiders · 5 months
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Oh to have a dinosaur that behaves like a big, friendly Golden Retriever.
Do you think I wouldn't forfeit all of my worldly possessions to Lucky? You'd be wrong. The Rancher literally upped moved to find a bigger home for their prehistoric child and that is a VALID life choice.
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ohbo-ohno · 8 days
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3.5k of cbf-turned-bully!soap x reader, inspired by this (very old) ask to my fave ever <3 (read on ao3)
tags: dubcon, dirty talk, masturbation, references to bullying, breaking and entering, rough sex, overstimulation
You’re still nearly shaking with frustration as you settle beneath your sheets, fingers twitching against your stomach and your jaw clenched tight.
You are not going to touch yourself. You’re not. There is no way in hell that you’re coming home from seeing Johnny fucking MacTavish for the first time in years and masturbating. It’s not happening.
…Well, you are awfully keyed up.
“Fucking bastard,” you hiss to yourself, frustration only growing as you shimmy down your loose shorts. You tell yourself firmly that this has absolutely nothing to do with the reappearence of your greatest nemesis, and try not to grind your teeth. You hadn’t even spoken to the man - just a glance of him had you hissing and ducking behind a different aisle at the supermarket - and you’re already riled by him. It’d be embarrassing if you weren’t nearly too horny to think.
You take a deep breath and rest your fingers over your slit, closing your eyes and letting your mind wander. You touch yourself slowly, fingers carefully spreading your lips as you let your mind wander. With your free hand you tug open your bedside drawer, tugging out your favorite toy and dragging it down your stomach.
Your movements are measured and familiar as your usual fantasies play across the backs of your eyes. You give yourself several long moments to slicken, coaxing more and more from your body with nimble fingers and quick circles.
In your mind, there’s a large body over yours and something just thick enough to let you feel the sting of a stretch inside of you, your breasts pushing against his chest, soft grunts in your ears.
Your breathing hitches, hips working against your palm as the fantasy starts to become more clear. He’s big, both above you and inside of you - only halfway in and already tugging you near the edge. His hands are on either side of your head, caging you in so all you can see is his tan skin, his rippling muscles.
You bite your lip to hold back a moan, eyelids fluttering. His bright eyes roll back when he pulls away enough for you to see his face. You lift one hand to your breast, the other gripping his head and both of you moan when you tug. The drag of his cock inside of you is perfect, his weight over you, the heat absolutely pouring over him…
His head drops back down when you let go of his hair, and his lips curve up into a smile as he looks down at you.
You nearly screech when you recognize him, throwing both hands away from your body and your eyes flying open to stare at your dark cieling. Your cunt and nipple throb, feeling quite suddenly neglected, but your heart isracing for an entirely different reason.
No. No. It’s one thing to satisfy your own needs after seeing the man, it’s another to… God, you can hardly even think it - to fantasize about the man and fuck yourself to him. 
“Fuck,” you whisper, desire rapidly cooling. Without Johnny himself in front of you - all six feet of him, muscular and masculine as he’s grown up to be - it’s easier to remember just how terrible he was to you all those years in school. There’s no sharp jawline and cute scruff to distract you from the memory of how he’d steal your clothes before you could change in gym class, leaving you with only those embarrassingly tiny athletic shorts for the rest of the day.
You huff as you let your legs fall closed again, the mood well and truly dissipating now. All you’ve got left is regular frustration, instead of the fun kind.
A sharp tap at the window jerks you out of your pouting, and you yank your blankets up to cover what little skin is showing in a panic, the slick dildo resting on your thighs. The room is silent for a moment, absolutely still except for the fan in the corner that’s been blowing for years, until there’s another tap.
You don’t realize what it is until the tap turns into a thunk. Then, you can hardly bite back your yelp. You’re nearly paralyzed with fear as the sound turns into a sort of… jangling almost, clearly coming from the one window in your bedroom.
Back pressed against your headboard, you can do nothing but think of all the things you should be doing as the curtains start blowing more noticeably, wind pouring into the room.
You’re just sucking in a breath to scream when Johnny MacTavish pops out from behind the curtain, combat boots loud against the wood flooring.
“Same old broken lock, huh, bonnie?” He smirks, strolling into your room like he belongs, like he used to. “Be honest now, you were just waiting here for me, weren’t you?”
You’re gaping like a fish, you know it, but you can’t help but stare at him wide-eyed.
The last time John MacTavish was in your bedroom, he was at least a foot shorter and a hell of a lot more welcome. The two of you had been eleven when he’d still been willing to be near you, but as soon as you’d moved on to elementary school - as soon as boys became boys and girls became girls, and kids had crushes instead of cooties - he’d stopped coming around. It was only a few years after that, in high school, that he’d gone from a friend you used to have to the boy who made school miserable.
And there is not one single reason you can think of to justify him sneaking in, the way he used to. Not now, all these years later with so much - said and unsaid - lingering between you.
None of that seems to weigh on him, though. He’s cocky as ever, doesn’t even bother to take off his boots as he saunters towards your bed, giving you a long look that can only be described as salacious as he leans himself against the foot of your bed.
It’s pure instinct to grope blindy at your bedside table, grabbing the first thing your fingertips touch and launching it at his head.
His instincts are sharp enough the he catches the bottle of water before it can do any real damage, but the small distraction gives you enough time to stumble to your feet, blanket held protectively in front of your body - you’re not completely nude, but a tanktop and panties aren’t exactly what you want Johnny seeing you in.
“What the fuck are you doing here?!” You hiss, some old instinct making you want to stay quiet even though there’s no one in the house with you.
The look he gives you is almost begrudgingly scolding, his lips tilted up in the corners as he tuts like he’s just barely holding back a smile. “Now, what was that for? I know your happy to see me, no need to start throwin’ things.”
“Johnny,” you scold, heartbeat slowing as the initial fear fades. “What the hell are you doing in my room? We haven’t spoken in years, you can’t just show back up-”
“Aw, I knew you missed me,” he grins, easily interrupting you and stepping almost within arms reach, water bottle discarded on your dresser. “Figured you didnae want to hear from me, I’d have written if I knew you’d be so crabbit.”
You splutter a bit, spine straightening in offense. “You’re breaking into my house! I have more than a right to be- what’d you say? Crabbit?”
His smile only grows and he steps closer, making you instinctually take a step back. “I don’t mind, lass. ‘S always fun to coax a pretty thing out of an ugly mood.”
Your face feels like it’s on fire as you splutter, your heart only beating faster as Johnny prowls forward, eyes dragging down your body like he wants to eat you alive. 
“I like your PJs, bonnie,” he rumbles, reaching out a hand to drag his finger down one of the straps of your tank top. “Did you match your panties just for me?”
Yous hiss and smack his hand away, one hand crossing tight over your chest to try and regain some amount of modesty. “How could I have dressed for you when you’re breaking in? This is ridiculous, you need to go, Johnny-”
You hardly even notice as he slowly pushes you backward, his chest pressed against yours until there’s no more room to pull away from him, the wall at your back a cold shock.
“Go?” He tilts his head, eyes big and round and you know the bastard isn’t as innocent or well-meaning as he’s trying to look. “But I just got here, bonnie. We haven’t even fucked yet.”
You rear back at the crass language, face flushing with heat. “What- we’re not going to-” You stumble over your words, pressing further back against the wall when his hands - rough, calloused, so much bigger than they used to be - grab both of your elbows to keep you still. “We’re not having sex,” you finally manage to choke out.
His grin is shark-like, sharp and verging on mean as he ducks his face closer to yours, lowering his voice to match your volume. “Why not? You look hungry, lass, don’t you want a little help? My fingers are bigger than yours, bet I can reach further up in your pretty cunt than you can.”
You gape for a moment, mouth moving as you think about saying any number of things, each of them dying before they cross your lips. This Johnny is so far from the lanky teenager who shoved you as you passed him in the hallway, and even further from the little boy who refused to be your first kiss because of your cooties. You have no idea how to deal with this invasive adult Johnny.
Your hands are small against his broad chest, and you press against him with just a hint of pressure, hoping he’ll take your hint and lean away. He doesn’t, only pushes himself closer and gives you some of his weight to hold up. 
“Johnny, come on,” you try, pushing a little harder and only getting yourself more firmly pinned against the wall. “We can- let’s get lunch tomorrow, okay? We can talk then.”
Johnny doesn’t respond at first, only ducks down and presses his face into your throat. You stiffen at the feeling of his damp breath against your skin, the slight brush of his teeth chasing goosebumps down your spine. Your breath hitches when you feel a distinct shape against your stomach, his hardness pressing into you.
“I can’t leave now, bonnie,” he says against your throat, groaning and grinding himself against you just once. “Ye’ve got me all worked up, I’ll die if you make me go.”
“Johnny…” you whine, wrapping your hands around his biceps and squeezing.
“I’ll make it good for you, don’ worry,” he reassures, hands shifting from the wall to wrap around your waist. “Might be a tad selfish once we get goin’, but you’ll have your fun.”
You can’t do much but squirm as one of his hands slips down beneath your bottoms, large hand cupping you. Your squeak is entirely unintentional when his fingers begin to explore without any reservations, your face hot with embarrassment at how quickly your body reacts.
Johnny doesn’t lift his head far, only enough to mouth at your jaw and leave little sucking bites. His free hand, the one not stroking your clit and drawing out wetness from your core, drifts up enough to palm one of your breasts.
“Johnny,” you breathe, incapable of saying anything but his name.
You can feel his smile against your skin, and you arch further into him when he slides one thick finger inside of you. His fingers are bigger than yours, enough for you to worry about the size of other parts of him.
“You’re so tight for me, lovie. Gonna squeeze me just right, huh?” His fingers crooks inside of you at just the right angle, and your hips jerk forward on instinct as you cry out. “Pretty thing, can’t believe I never had this back in school.”
“What-” You start, cutting yourself off with a gasp that melts into a moan as he pushes another finger inside of you. You’re more than wet enough to take it, but everything seems to be moving at hyperspeed, and you can’t keep up. “Oh, that’s- what’re you talking about?”
He huffs against your jaw, nosing up a little further to press against your cheek as his hot breath washes over you. “You’re so pretty lass, had me hard as iron every day when we were kids. Wasn’t very nice, huh bonnie? Walkin’ around in those cute skirts and - fuck, your pretty blush… drove me fucking insane.”
You yelp at the sudden stretch of three fingers, pushing up onto your toes to try and jerk away, but Johnny just follows you, thumb stroking cruelly over your clit.
“Just wanted to bend you over,” he groans, pressing his hips into your stomach and gripping your breast tight enough that you worry you’ll bruise. “Wanted to put you on your knees, on your back, fuck, woulda done anything for just a peek at this pretty cunt.”
“Jo-hnny,” you hiccup, melting against him as the pleasure begins to overwhelm you, everything else fading as you creep closer to an orgasm you’re not even sure you want. “I don’t-”
“Hush,” he hisses, smacking your tit lightly and ignoring your cry of shock. “Lemme get you off here, then I’ll fuck you, yeah? Gonna split you open on my cock, show you what you coulda had years ago, gonna fuck you dumb.”
He finally presses his lips to yours, swallowing your moans and cries as they slowly grow in volume. Your hips buck against his hands as you chase an orgasm, unable to do anything more than pant into Johnny’s mouth as he licks into yours, tongue exploring every bit he can reach.
Your orgasm absolutely melts you, leaves you weak and limp pinned between the wall and the man you’d once known so well. Johnny’s breathing almost as hard as you, every part of him pressed fully against you. He’s all heat and solid man, forcing you to ride out every euphoric wave of your orgasm.
You’re a little glassy eyed by the end of it, knees weak and mind even weaker. You’re vaguely aware of your hands lightly pushing at him as he lifts you by the thighs, dropping you carelessly onto the bed.
“Fuck,” Johnny hisses, tearing your clothes from your body like they’re nothing. You whine when he presses kisses to your stomach, those kisses quickly turning to sucking bites that have you arching and running a hand through his mohawk. 
He doesn’t bother to take off his shirt - too busy licking his way up to your tits for that - but the sound of his belt dropping to the floor and his jeans following is loud in the quiet of your bedroom.
When he takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking like he’s trying to physically pull more moans from you, you arch off the bed with a near squeal. He’s hunched over you as he settles firmly above your prone form on the bed, knees between your thighs and keeping them spread.
“Slow- slow down,” you gasp, tapping at his shoulder a bit frantically as you feel the thick - so thick - length of him press against your drooling center. “Johnny-!” 
Your cry melts into a long, drawn-out moan as Johnny forces himself inside of you with one mean thrust. Three fingers somehow wasn’t enough prep for you to take him comfortably, his cock leaving you teary eyed and writhing on the bed as he bottoms out in just seconds. You feel like you’ve been impaled, the breath forced from your chest as you dig your nails into his shoulder and try despertley to breathe through the stretch.
“There,” Johnny pants above you, lips pink and swollen from his kisses. “There ye go, bonnie, good fuckin’ girl for me. Coulda - shit, shit - coulda had this years ago, huh?” His head drops low, eyes boring into yours as he pulls back and thrusts back into you sharply, forcing another cry from your lips. “See how good it feels? I can make you feel so good, pretty girl, promise.”
“Johnny, c’mon,” you gasp, scratching down his shoulder blades and pulling him close. Any reservations you had have been fucked out of you in just a few thrusts, and even despite your recent orgasm your clit throbs with need. “C’mon, you can- you can move.”
His smile is sharp above you, his own pupils blown wide and his shirt sticking to his sweat-slick skin. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you harder?”
You whine high in your throat, throwing your head back and hitching your hips higher as he finds a pace that works, his hips slamming against the backs of your thighs when you wrap them around his waist. You’re half off the bed with the position he’s got you in, his arms scooping you up around your back so he can lavish more attention across your tits.
Every breath you take leaves you in a moan or a cry, the pleasure he’s punshing into you almost overwhelming. You feel fevered, desperate in a way you never have before as you claw desperately at Johnny’s scalp, tugging his hair until he moans.
“So tight for me,” he slurs against your chest, drooling as he switches from one nipple to the other. “Drivin’ me fuckin’ mad, bonnie, could stay in this cunt forever, shit.”
“Johnny,” you gasp, eyes screwed up tight as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to a second peak. “You’re so… fuck, so big, I can’t… can’t breathe.”
“Yeah?” He asks, looking up at you and pushing himself up enough to press kisses to your lips. “‘M fuckin’ the air right out of you, huh? Fuckin’ you so good you can’t breathe?”
“Yeah,” you keen, your body beginning to tense as you begin to taste your orgasm. “Feel so good, Johnny, please, I’m so- I’m so close, c’mon…”
“Yes, yes,” he chants against you, his lips brushing over every bit of your face he can reach, tongue darting out to lick up the few stray tears slipping from your eyes. “Squeeze me tight, c’mon, come for me, lass, you can do it.”
He doesn’t give up his tight hold on you to rub your clit, but you find that you don’t need him to, the combination of his thrusts and everything about the situation bringing you to a powerful enough orgasm that your vision whites out for a moment. Your throat is sore as you shout, and the fabric of Johnny’s shirt is loose around where your fingers have dug in mercilessly.
“Fuck, tight as a vice, fuck, fuck,” Johnny moans, his own face screwed up in pleasure as he loses any rhythm he had before, fucking you like a fleshlight. He leans back and pulls you up with him, holding you chest to chest with him and burying his face into your neck as you hold onto him for dear life. 
He buries his teeth right above your pulse as he comes, working his hips in small, jerky thrusts to milk himself as you tighten up around him. Your breath is synced with his, both of you panting desperately and soaked in sweat.
You’re still reeling as he begins to recover. Before you can even muster enough strength to let your thighs fall away from his hips, he’s falling forward onto the bed and laying both of you out on your sides, his hold on you not loosening at all. He takes half a second to throw his shirt across the room, then presses you so close that your tits are all but flat against his chest.
He’s uncharacteristically silent as the two of you share breaths, each of you slowly floating back into your bodies. The only emotion you can really muster is shock - how is it that Johnny, your best friend turned biggest bully, just fucked you better than any man you’ve been with before? It feels, in some absurd way, unfair.
“We’ll have to talk about this,” you say quietly, once your heartbeat has almost evened out and your breaths are coming evenly. 
Johnny only hums, one big hand moving down to hitch your thigh back around his waist, tilting your body so somehow even more of your skin is pressed against his. “Sure, bonnie,” he murmurs, voice half muffled from where his face is pressed into your hair. “Tomorrow.”
“I’m serious, Johnny,” you try, one hand resting on his ribs. “You broke into my house.”
“Hmm,” he hums, taking a deep breath of your scent and letting it out contentedly. “I’ll say sorry in the mornin’. Sleep now, though.” His voice is almost pleading, his grip on you tightening for just a moment, one hand behind your back and the other resting on your ass. You feel like a stuffed animal, but you’re too pleasure-sated to really mind.
“Alright,” you agree, settling into his hold fully and letting your mouth rest against his collarbone as your eyes flutter shut. “Tomorrow.”
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trektown · 30 days
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Real footage of me booping the citizens of Trektown (my followers)
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indoctrinasian · 4 months
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Time slows for a moment, and the air becomes thicker. The master of the house is coming.
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rumble-bee-art · 8 months
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Yunmeng summer doki doki moments
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weebsinstash · 3 months
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Hi I’ve been watching Hazbin Hotel and I found your blog which is amazing by the way , and I was wondering what are your thoughts on yandere Alastor ?
Thanks babe! ^^ so i was discussing this with someone recently and, to avoid doing that thing where I have too any concepts on the same post, I'm going to stick with a specific idea I've had of him recently which I will call "canon accurate yandere Alastor"
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imma be honest and say this version would fucking suck depending on your preferences because he
-doesn't love you romantically and doesn't let YOU date
-doesn't wanna fuck you either AND DOESN'T LET YOU FUCK ANYONE ELSE EITHER
-probably does not consider you an equal by any means, like he considers you a good friend and you're charming and lovely and whatever, but he sees you like.... you'd be puking into a trashcan and he's the one holding your hair back, "now see my dear, this is why you shouldn't go out drinking without a proper escort~" like there's a vague layer of condescension and there's a huge massive power balance and experience balance between you two
Like. He's. He's kind of condescendingly cunty to you, he's vaguely looking at you with the energy of "MacKenzie oh my gosh MacKenzie you're so drunk, you're wasted, oh my god let me drive you home, no girl I'm taking your keys, you're too--" like do you get what I mean? He's a traditional gentleman and he comes along and uh, he thinks he sees this raw potential and charm inside of you that he thinks is being wasted by your modern lifestyle which can literally include
- your diet
-your tech use or what you use from day to day
- how you dress
-how you TALK
-how you spend your time
-who you hang out with
Just picture he meets you, you catch his eye, maybe you're at the hotel, and he's entertained by your sarcastic witty replies to his antics that maybe even get a chuckle out of him. You're a spitfire and he likes that!
.... and then the next time he sees you you're like vaping weed from a pen, looking at him with half lidded eyes, playing a game on your phone, too scattered to fully hold a conversation with him, to focus, to be as entertaining to him as before, and he's grinding the teeth in his smile, "oh no, this won't do at all", especially when he sees negative affects such maybe you're watching things he doesn't approve of or you're being harassed idk
I feel like since Alastor canonically drinks and is quite a heavyweight apparently, he wouldn't mind his darling drinking, but he would definitely control how much after a while. If you get too wasted in front of him too many times, he'll completely cut you off. Folks are you aware that getting too drunk can cause an alcohol induced panic attack that can literally take away your ability to move your hands and arms and make your mouth numb. I found this out recently :) whoops. And I feel like Alastor sees that shit and you'd have to EARN HIS TRUST for him to let you drink again and uh, I don't think that's possible
You're kind of like a bestie but you're also like a toy he's playing with and he doesn't like to share. He'll drag you away from doing other things with other people, especially if he doesn't approve of what you're doing and or with whom. He basically views you dating other people as lowering yourself to people who are beneath you and would only want you to give yourself to someone who deserves you, and he doesn't think ANYONE deserves you except him, and he DOESNT LIKE YOU THAT WAY so the man is just like FORCING CELIBACY ON YOU. Like have you ever seen videos of people taking their domesticated lovely groomed pets outdoors and like a stray or even wild animal version of it comes along to. Hump. And the owner is freaking out, "get the fuck AWAY I don't know where you've been" or at least Should? THAT'S Alastor watching 'other people trying to predate upon you' aka YOU trying to get laid or date
You'll be cooking something and he'll come up and try some without asking, "Hah! This is terrible!" and either watch you so he can tell you what he thinks you did wrong once the dish is finished or he takes over and asserts that he wants to show you to do it "the proper way!" and if you're female he potentially inserts a comment about how as a lovely lady you should know your way around a kitchen (in like a positive "I'll show you so you can know for yourself" way but like the underlying misogyny is there lol)
He'll take you out drinking and dancing but don't you dare let him catch you throwing it back or being mildly sexual, or he'll immediately tell you you've had too much to drink and take you home and you two spend the rest of the night like drinking tea listening to the radio, reading books, or watching old timey TV.
Lastly... I can absolutely see Alastor making some kind of deal with his darling for their soul. He CAN do that (and I think technically anyone in Hell can deal with souls, it's apparently part of the becoming an Overlord process). But I can just see him taking his darling's soul in exchange for anything, it might be really small, it might be really important, but he sees it as safeguarding your beautiful lovely little soul from anyone else who might take it. It truly is like THE HIGHEST FORM OF OWNING YOU, CONTROLLING YOU. It's all according to whatever is in the deal, but I'm sure there's other basic caveats you get... like him being able to summon you at will if you agree to it so he's randomly yanking you away from other people or tracking you when he doesn't know when you are.... or restraining you so you stop running away from him and running out on the town to act so... vulgar
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yvanspijk · 6 months
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The French word for a werewolf is loup-garou. Etymologically, this compound is pleonastic: garou means 'werewolf' and loup means 'wolf'. It's also hybrid: loup stems from Latin lupus whereas garou was borrowed from West Germanic *werwulf. Click the image for more.
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starrystevie · 1 year
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eddie figures out that he likes steve all because of nancy fucking wheeler.
it isn't often that they find themselves hanging out just the two of them, quite the opposite. this is the first time they've ever done it and the only reason nancy is even stepping foot inside the munson's new government-provided trailer is because she's having a crisis.
"but what does it mean," she asks, voice muffled as her lips wrap around the opening of her beer bottle before taking a swig. her cheeks hollow and her eyes shut against the feeling of the carbonation bubbling up before she fixes eddie with a glare that he doesn't think is for him. "it didn't... feel this way with barb."
and eddie's just sitting there on the couch, rolling a much needed joint for both of them, trying to follow along with what nancy is saying. she's pacing a hole in the carpet and her hands are flying around in a way that eddie himself does when the wheels in his brain are spinning too fast.
"... what didn't feel what way?"
nancy glares at him again and he gets the feeling that it's directed at him this time. he feels himself shrink under her eyes and wants to raise his hands up in surrender (he gives in and does indeed raise his hands in surrender).
"i think i'm in love with robin, please try and keep up."
eddie stills, his hands in the air and mouth open in shock. nancy's still muttering about something but his brain is stuck on the being-in-love-with-robin part of her tirade. it's not an issue, not in the slightest, and sure he's heard of people who... but he's never met someone who actually-
"are you even listening?" nancy asks, her tone firm. she has a hand on her hip while the other is clenched tightly around the neck of her beer. "what am i supposed to do?! am i just supposed to kiss her and tell her that her eyes are my favorite color and that i miss her when she leaves a room even for just a minute?"
"how should i know?! i'm not in love with robin!" eddie responds and he knows it's the wrong answer by how nancy's whole face falls in the span of .02 seconds. she looks like she's on the brink of tears, frustrated or hopeless or sad, and eddie doesn't know what to do with that either.
"but... you know. what about steve?" nancy's voice is soft now, and paired with her puppy dog eyes, eddie almost doesn't process what she says. "how'd you know with him?"
and if eddie thought he was stunned before, this takes the cake. a nervous laugh bubbles out of him, his face hot and heart pounding. his arms feel a bit like liquid and he doesn't know if he's even breathing anymore.
"nancy, i'm sorry but i think we're on two different wave lengths here." he needs to do something with his hands so he starts to fiddle with his lighter, flicking the zippo open and shut until the clink of the metal sounds too loud in the quiet room. "i don't.... love steve."
tears start to roll down her cheeks and yeah, eddie definitely messed up somewhere. she's wiping the drops away furiously like she's surprised they even dared to show up and she's biting her lip in a way that looks like it hurts.
"what are you talking about? of course you do." her eyebrows furrow which makes her look even angrier or disgusted and eddie feels like they're on a tightrope in his living room that's about to snap away from underneath them.
"well yeah, i... love him," he stutters over the words, "like i love you and rob and everyone. but not like... love love."
nancy's laugh sounds way too harsh for it to have come out of her. "are you sure? you stare at his ass more than i stare at robin's." she takes a deep breath, ignores the gasp of indignation that her statement gets out of eddie, and tilts her chin up like she's taking the high ground.
"i do not!"
"do too! and you're always looking for him when you walk into a room, like it doesn't matter if we're there, you only look for him. and you sit right next to him even if there's an open seat that's more comfortable. and you have this little, i don't know, tic when he smiles that makes you wiggle your fingers and you-"
"wheeler, you gotta stop."
"-always listen to him and he does all of that back for you and it's so obvious. i can't believe you didn't know you were in love with steve! you do everything that i do for robin and i'm in love with her so it must mean you're in love with steve and- holy shit i'm in love with robin."
the silence after nancy stops rings loud in his ears. honestly, he hadn't really given it any thought before but it makes sense.
the very idea of steve has his heart feeling a way it hasn't since he was nine and tracy nichols gave him a shiny rock on valentine's day. he does always look for steve when he enters a room, his very presence calming and dependable. he does sit next to him no matter what, their sides pressed together, heat radiating between them like a blanket. and god, when steve smiles, he does have to move his fingers, something to get out these jolts of energy that he feels licking through his veins.
steve is good and steve is a bit of an asshole but eddie likes that and suddenly the line between platonic and romantic seems to have vanished because holy shit, how did he live for the past year without spending every day loving steve harrington?
eddie reaches for the half rolled joint, licks at the paper to close it and lights up quickly. he holds the smoke in his lungs for probably too long but couldn't care less because he's now having a crisis of his own thanks to nancy.
"goddamnit," eddie hisses out as he exhales. "i'm in love with steve."
nancy looks smug, her arm extended as she waits for eddie to pass the joint to her before taking a hit. "that's what i'm saying."
"but i'm not... you know."
nancy rolls her eyes. "it's not going to bite you if you say it, eddie."
"i'm not gay."
the silence seems louder now as the paper on the joint sizzles. there's a dog somewhere in the park barking and he can hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.
"neither am i." nancy responds quietly with a shrug of her shoulders. "but i am for robin. and you are for steve."
she passes the joint back over to eddie and stands up from the couch, wipes off imaginary crumbs from her pants like she didn't just turn eddie's world upside down.
"i think i'm gonna go. i have a lady to woo." nancy looks happy. it's a good look on her, one he doesn't see all that often what with everything that's happened to them in the past year. she deserves it, he thinks, happiness.
"let me know how it goes," he calls to her as she stops at the trailer door.
"i will." with a tilt of her head and a with a gleam in her eye, she gives eddie yet another look that he doesn't know if he wants to try and decipher. "you should call him."
eddie snorts and takes a hit, rolling his eyes as he stares up at the ceiling so he doesn't have to look at nancy's all knowing eyes. it isn't that he's scared to call steve, it's that he's terrified. petrified. what would he say? what would steve say? he just figured out that he loves him, he hasn't had time to prepare a whole speech to declare it and-
"eddie." nancy's voice is sharp but certain and part of him thinks that robin is a lucky woman to have nancy wheeler falling in love with her. "trust me. call him."
after she's gone, he finishes the joint. he sits in the silence of his trailer and pulls hit after hit of sticky smoke until it's down the end and burning his fingertips. he stares at the ceiling some more, contemplates what to say, how to say it, how to do anything without throwing up.
he wonders if wayne knows, if he saw what nancy saw, what he thinks of eddie falling in with a guy. he wonders if this will change everything. wonders if it'll change for better or worse. wonders if he'll have to skip town and change his name like he imagined doing after he was cleared of murder.
picking up the phone is easy, dialing is easier when he has steve's number memorized like the back of his hand.
"hello?" steve mutters like he's been roused out of sleep. his voice is scruffy and somehow soft and eddie knows he's going to throw up.
"steve."
"hey, man. is everything okay?"
and it makes eddie's heart flutter in a way that a generic question shouldn't but damn it, he's in love. he's allowed.
"yeah, yeah. everything's good i just-" eddie sighs, scrubs a hand down his face to stop from twirling the phone cord in his fingers. "do you wanna maybe come over? watch a movie or something?"
eddie can almost hear the smile in his voice when he breathes out a yes, thanking whatever higher powers there may be for nancy wheeler.
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lulumk1 · 4 months
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odo playing with various plastic containers
you're welcome
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hauntedpearl · 10 months
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god there might not be anything that makes sense in my destiel fics but there will be an italicized Cas in there.
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imagine-darksiders · 5 months
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So, confession... I have been playing, like, an ungodly amount of Paleo Pines lately. Just an absurd number of hours racked up. It's such a fun ranching sim, and there are dinosaurs.
Anyway, I've been meaning to draw my best buds for a few weeks now, so we've got the goodest boy, Thane - an Allosaurus, probably my favourite [sorry Lucky]
And the Utahraptor is Marty McCantFly.
Also Avery is the best NPC, I just love him so much.
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rottenaero · 1 year
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AO3
Part 1
Part 3
Part 5
Part four of roommates idea
The officer clicked his pen again, signaling he took to long to answer. Steve faced him again, “Sorry I- Shit. Eddie he wasn't- he wouldn't do this shit. He's afraid of fucking dogs. Not even the real big ones either, he definitely wouldn't kill someone. He cries when he watches Bambi and gore freaks him out.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes! I'm absolutely-fucking-positive! He looks all tough and shit but he's not, he's just scared. Fuck that sounds- so bad but- God why don't you believe me and Wayne?”
The officer sighs, ”Eddie sold drugs, did drugs, it's entirely possible he had to many and did something…Not entirely in his regular character.”
Steve bit his lip, “He wouldn’t.”
-
Steve sat in the family video, he's been distant since the shift started and Robin couldn’t understand why.
That was, until the TV showed the news of a Hawkins student dying. Did he somehow know?
Not much later, Max and Dustin came in yelling about phones, and were quick to start using them.
Steve didn’t even seem shocked when they talked about Eddie being accused. When they finally got a lead about a ‘Reefer Rick’, his eyes lit up.
“I know where he is.”
-
“Hello?”
Steve looked around the boathouse, “What a dump.”
His eyes landed on tarp covering a boat, “Eddie?"
“Eddie, are you here?"
Now, Steve wasn't an expert, but that tarp looked a lot like it just moved, and if it wasn’t Eddie then-
He grabbed an oar that was leaning against the wall, and began poking it.
“What are you doing?”
“It moved.”
“So take the tarp off!”
Steve gave Dustin an incredulous look.
“If you're so brave, why don’t you take the tarp off!”
It was silent for a moment, then-
“…Steve?”
The man in question let out a relieved sigh, and smiled. “Eds!”
Steve drops the oar, a resounding clatter banging off the walls as he flings the tarp off the boat.
And there he is, Eddie Munson in all his glory, sitting in a fetal position and clutching a broken bottle to his chest like a lifeline.
As soon as he seemed to see Steve, he quickly threw the bottle to the side and stands up to step out the boat.
“Steve, thank fuck.”
Eddie engulfs him in a hug, pressing his face into his neck.
Steve bites his lip, “Hey, hey its okay.”
Steve slid them down carefully, positioning his back against a column. It was a bit awkward, with them being similar height, but he made it work.
“She- I didn’t kill her! I don’t, she started fucking floating. Then her limbs snapped, god Stevie, please you gotta believe me.”
He looked over to the party, Robin’s eyebrows were pinched, Max was darting her eyes between the two, and Dustin looked like he was about to say something.
Finally, he gathered the courage. “ Eddie, we believe you. What you saw, it’s been happening for years. Well, not this particularly but the supernatural.”
Eddie peeked his head out, “ What do you mean?”
Dustin crouches down awkwardly, hands together. “Theres another world. Its kind of like this one, but its terrifying. There are things there. Its called the upside down. We’ve been fighting it since 1983 when Will went missing.“
Steve feels him tense. “ ‘We?’ ‘Fighting?’, How do you fight an invisible force?”
“Demogorgons, demodogs, government people, russians. We’ve had to face them for years. Steve and I were there in 1983, Max in 1984, and Robin just joined in last year with the Russians and the mall.”
Eddie’s eyes widened, and he turned his head slightly to face Steve. “ Is that why you were so beat up last year?”
Steve shrugged, “ Yeah. Pretty much.”
Eddie burrowed his head into his neck again. “ Jesus H. Christ.”
“Look, we’re here to help you Eds, that murder in the trailer? They were asking me questions, they think its you. Wouldn’t let up on the idea no matter how much I insisted it wasn’t.”
Eddie looked at Steve with a mix of fear and gratitude, “What do we do? Can’t exactly waltz up and tell them it’s supernatural.”
Steve hummed, “We need to figure out what happened to that Chrissy, and clear your name.”
Max stepped forward, “We’ll help you, Eddie. We’ve faced worse than this.”
Eddie nodded, “Okay. Shit, we’re really doing this..”
Robin glanced around, “Not to interrupt or anything, but maybe we should do the whole story? Like, you guys didn’t even mention the super power girl, and shes like major isn’t she?”
The long haired metalhead nodded, giving Steve a squeeze before letting go and standing.
He turned to face Robin a grimace on his face, “ Right, yeah, full story. Super power girl, sure.”
Steve patted his shoulder, when did he even get up, and after a second, bumped him with his hip.
“Buckle up, Eds. This is gonna take a while.”
Tag-list
@bxlthazar @i-have-three-feelings
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