#and it got even buckwilder

[anomalousvortex]

ok when you all said "Cyberwoman" was bad i wasn't quite expecting ianto's half cyberman girlfriend (who's basically in a cyber bikini) that he keeps in the basement and killed a man, to get pecked *NEARLY to death after she was covered in barbecue sauce by Torchwood's pet pterodactyl. AND THEN it turns out she survived by transplanting her brain into the poor pizza lady who delivers them pizza (WHO THE FUCK ORDERED PIZZA?!?! [of course it was ianto and his coleslaw i forgot. he's an idiot]) then the Torchwood team all take turns at shooting her while ianto's sobbing. ok. he doesn't even get fired.

[rawliverandgoronspice]

anyways, still deeply invested into my read of Ganondorf being an immense bully to children partially because, in a way, he rationalizes that putting children through the grinder is baaaasically kind of helping them to grow up faster, in a throwing you into the river to teach you how to swim kind of way, and if they can't handle the grinder, they were weak and it's on them and they can either suck it up and try harder, or get wrecked and die

and obviously that says absolutely nothing about how his own upbringing may have been handled, right twinrova, nor anything about how he may have buried a profound bitterness about the fact he was never really allowed a childhood of his own, and it's not fair others, especially hylians, get to spend their own carefree.

of course not.

[moinsbienquekaworu]

Wanted to see what the feedback on the latest Sims 4 update was so I went to the Sims forum and. They're taking down the 14yo forums at the end of the month apparently?? And replacing them with a really bad almost unusable EA forum thing?? Devastated. I understand that the forums were barely holding on and that the site is old, but the replacement is absolutely not high quality enough for any kind of community, let alone one the size and importance of the Sims community.

[guhroovi]

Very messy doodle of the boys. I'm just thriving with them in the latest chapters tbh.

Perhaps will do something with this later but here it is for now

[lollytea]

Huntlow

(Willow is Gomez btw)

[trentcrimminallybeautiful]

actually one thing i particularly like about what i've seen from s3 is further proof that trent may seem cool but it's only bc he's totally faking it like ninety percent of the time

[kingdomoftyto]

Oh yeah ANOTHER thing?

It's now canon that Vlad (and by extension probably Danny too) can survive THE VACUUM OF SPACE with no food, water, or air for at least several months if not over a year??

Like yeah we saw him out by Saturn at the end of Phantom Planet but I think a lot of us figured he'd probably die out there (including the characters in the story apparently LOL brutal). But here we have confirmation that (half-)ghosts can pretty much keep going indefinitely on stubbornness alone. Like holy shit, dude. I don't know whether that's awesome or super dark.

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"Pa," Randall began, just as surprised as Emily was by what his father said, but before he could say anymore, Wilhelm raised his hand to stop them both, saying gently, "I know, lad, I know. I remember what you said the other night about you being engaged, and...you both have our blessing-both Junie's and mine."

"We want our son to be happy," June said, giving a tender smile in turn. "And we want you to happy too, Emily, and we've seen for ourselves that you two are at your happiest together, and...it would just be wrong of us to keep you apart! We know that now, and so, if being together makes you happiest...well, then who are we to argue?"

Like any parents, they wanted to ensure the safety and happiness of their child, and it was very clear to the Paces that not only was Randall happy with his bride-to-be, he was also safe with her-and the same could be said of Emily; she felt secure enough around their boy to confide her true nature to him, and was very clearly over the moon to be with him. To try and keep them apart as they did before...it would deeply unfair of them.

"And even beyond all of that," June confessed shyly, speaking now to Emily. "We...we'd like you to have not just our boy in your life, but us as well, if you'd permit it. Wil and I...we can't imagine what you've been through, and how lonely you must've been, and for so long, and...we'd like to change that, and be a support to you, if we can."

[jefferythejelly]

has karl ever played bugsnax. i just watched a playthrough of it and i've come to the conclusion that i think karl would like bugsnax

[mercuryislove]

[rai-knightshade]

@parttimetrickster

if ever i need to feel pure love and joy in my life once again i simply rewatch jason' brown's riverdance routine:

(and if you're going why does he look familiar yes, he was also the guy with the cotton eye joe routine, the can't touch this routine and more recently, the backsteet boys routine)

[yameoto]

can we hear thoughts on being blair and serena's little pet project? fighting over you, but also being so protective, ugh!

-🕷️

would get so messy. they can’t help themselves! those girls were born to fight over things. been squabbling over boys and toys and boytoys since they were eight years old. and then suddenly; you fall right in their laps. pretty, mysterious wealthy new kid at constance, who’s immediately hot shit. they’re already fighting for the queen bee title, and what’s a head bitch without their side bitch? you become a trophy to be had. petty squabbles—they’re not afraid to play dirty.

oh, you’re blair’s escort for the debauntate? serena will show up and start macking with lonely boy dan and get the place shut down with paparazzi. oh, serena’s taking you out on the town and spoiling you rotten? how does a trip around europe, just you and blair, sound? serena walking past with that disarmingly charming smile in the hallways like she’s not ripping blair’s headband off of you. blair, aghast in your bedroom and tearing up the gifts serena left on your bed. even when s vs b becomes s&b, again. you’re always a point of contention. squished beside them on the bed. nails raking against thigh, seeing how far their hands can wander compared to the other. which one can leave their mark, and where.

even when the dust starts to settle, it follows from constance to adulthood. they’ve long dropped the pretence of fighting over you for something as shallow as their ownership over high-school. no. god, no. it’s ownership over you. you’d think maturity would help the cause, but no, it escalated, briefly. they drive you positively buckwild. rigging your college admissions to their respective schools, netting you this scholarship and that. until it turns out that serena and blair are going to college together anyways. and you’re not. neither of them are quite happy about that. they have to work together to pull you back into their collective grasp and, after they’ve got your name inscribed on their two-person-turned-three-person dorm room, they realise. maybe. maybe, they do have one thing in common. relishing the sight of you, on their (pushed together) beds. splayed out in that nice lingerie set blair bought you, tied up like a present in a little neat bow that serena arranged.

best friends can share. (not that they’ve ever been particularly good at it). there’s a first time, for everything.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiesongfics.

If He Wanted To, He Would

July Prompt: Any Song Lyrics | Word Count: 2000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Eddie POV, Modern Setting, Sports AU, Rockstar Eddie, Baseball Player Steve, Very Public Love Affair, Corroded Coffin, Good Uncle Wayne Munson

I've used lyrics from Take Me Out to the Ball Game & Blank Space.

Even the news is covering it. 

That's fucking ridiculous. There's an animated graphic, a live tracker of where his plane is, a moving dot over the Atlantic, like it's Christmas Eve and he's Santa Claus.

Eddie's gonna make it. He was always gonna make it, even as the press ran the numbers, the miles, and milked every ounce of drama out of it.

He made game one, and game four, and now he's racing back from playing Wembley in London to make it for game seven. The media has tried to sell the idea that Steve wanted the World Series to go to seven, just so Eddie would be able to attend.

Eddie's glad he's getting to see it, of course he is, but if they could have swept it in four, or locked it down in five or six, that would have been fucking awesome. Even if that meant Eddie missed seeing it live, and had to watch on television, in the middle of the night, across the world.

There are a shitton of tiktoks every week, dissecting their every move, looking for easter eggs. Eddie is just living his life, even if a million people are always watching him like a fucking hawk.

Goodie is walking back from the beer garden in the stadium, carrying his plastic cup in his mouth as he fiddles with something in his hands. Not spilling a goddamn drop. Eddie can only see this because he's being broadcast onto the stadium jumbotron.

When he climbs the stairs into the suite, Eddie asks, "Where's Gareth?"

"Got spotted. Now he's taking pictures. I just slipped away unnoticed. Sucker," Goodie says, putting his cup down on the table.

"Unnoticed, huh?" Eddie teases. He won't tell him. He'll just wait until Goodie sees it online for himself. "There's free beer back there you know?" Eddie asks. Neither one of them needed to venture out into the crowd.

Goodie shrugs, "I wanted this kind."

He could have had that kind, could have had any kind, if he'd just asked for it. But no, he wanted to be out among the people. 

None of them are particularly fond of baseball, but they are fond of Steve, so here they are. The whole band doesn't always come, but it's the championship game, so they did.

And the score has been 1-0 forever. 

Wayne is pacing. Unlike them, he loves baseball, even if he's been a little turncoat, switching teams like a lifetime of dedication meant nothing at all. He's gotten a little shit from his friends back home, but Eddie thinks it's honestly very sweet. Eddie loves that Wayne likes Steve enough to put him and his team as his number one with a bullet, now.

It helps that Steve's part of a fucking dynasty. It's fun to win, even Eddie gets that.

Wayne doesn't always hang out in suites. More often than not, he'd rather sit in the stands. Focus on the baseball, not the celebrity that's now surrounding it. But Wayne's been dragged into their highly publicized love affair, and now he's starting to get recognized all on his own, so Eddie worries. 

Plus, he'd rather have him right here, where they can spend time together.

"What's the count?" Eddie asks. 

"3-2," Wayne answers.

Eddie's distracted, filling his plate with the various appetizers that came with the steep price of the private suite. Sliders, pigs in a blanket, and all kinds of other fancified versions of comfort food. He's just scooping some mac & cheese on his plate when he hears his main guitar riff from Buckwild. He puts down his plate, making his way to the big windows just in time to see Steve step towards the batter's box. 

Steve only changes his walk-up music to Corroded Coffin when Eddie's in attendance. He currently walks-up to Milkshake, which is fucking hilarious. He's one of the first openly out players, and he really leans into it, changing up his walk-up music, usually to something a little queer. Eddie knows it's partially to poke fun at himself first, before anyone else can. 

But tonight, it's his song. Eddie's sure he's being broadcast on the jumbotron from some camera he can't even see, and may even be on live television. Eddie watches as Steve briefly points his bat, and at first Eddie thinks Steve's calling his shot, but no. Not unless he's intending to hit a foul ball.

No, he gestured at Eddie. At least where he assumed Eddie would be.

Eddie fiddles with the rings on his hand, moving from finger to finger, twisting them around and around as Steve swings and misses for the second time. Eddie can hardly watch, it makes him so nervous.

"What's the count?" Eddie asks. It's the only question he knows to ask.

"2-2," Wayne says from somewhere behind him. Wayne doesn't stand at the front when it's likely the camera is on them. Eddie gets it, he does, but he'd like him at his side. The windows are open tonight, and the fans in the seats in front of the suite have leaned up to talk to them, to get things signed, and Eddie has done it. They all have. Waving off security.

Nobody is being shitty, just excited, and Eddie's grateful he's been accepted by most of Steve's fans. There was always the fear that he'd be seen as a distraction, and sure, that's been a bit of the narrative, but Steve's in the goddamn World Series. His head is obviously still in the game.

Eddie signed a custom Corroded Coffin jersey with Steve's number on the back earlier, and if that wasn't fucking weird and delightful. And Harrington jerseys have been increasingly spotted at their gigs, from one in the crowd, to a dozen or more.

Steve takes the next ball, and Eddie was terrible at baseball as a kid. He swung at everything. He never had the self-control to wait for something good. 

He's glad he grew out of that, at least a little, because he waited, and now he has Steve. A goddamn home run in human form. 

Eddie's relieved when he hears the crack of the bat finally making contact with the ball, and he watches intently until Steve's safely on first, Eddie leaning out of the open box window, hanging onto the frame, screaming.

He rights himself, clapping hard as he spins in a circle, screaming some more.

Then, Eddie watches as Steve steals second on a wild pitch, and the stadium sound system blares to life with Gimme Three Steps.

Steve dusts himself off from his slide in, and Eddie is so fucking smitten. 

And his ass looks damn good in those pants. His milkshake did bring Eddie to the yard.

It's the seventh-inning stretch, and Eddie hears the familiar, "for it's one, two, three strikes, you're out," being sung by the entire stadium.

He's nervous now. More nervous than he ever is going on stage anymore.

They've made it this far, and he wants Steve to win the whole thing. 

They do win. Steve fielded a grounder, whipped it to first base, and with one last out, it was finally over. Gloves being thrown in the air, lots of hugs and jumping up and down.

Steve did it.

And Eddie smiles.

Steve isn't released, not yet. There'll be interviews, and a parade that Eddie unfortunately can't attend, so Eddie only gets a few minutes in the tunnel with him. Some stolen kisses and a silly groped handful, just giving Steve's cup a squeeze, to make him laugh. 

It's all too brief, but he'll see him soon. 

They go from the game straight back to the airport, Goodie and Gareth both pretty drunk after too many celebratory shots, leaving Jeff and him to babysit as they get wheels up, to head back across the pond. Their world tour, waiting.

They'll make it. 

Steve swears jet-lag is a choice, and Eddie's choosing to believe him.

Another city, and his turn on the big stage, as Eddie looks out towards the VIP tent. Steve waves with both hands over his head, making himself larger, more easily seen.

Steve attended a few Monday shows with Robin, when their schedules lined up enough to allow it. But now his season is over. He's a fucking world champion, and it's the offseason, which is Eddie's new favorite word.

If he'd known he'd fall in love with a sportsball guy, he would have made sure their tour had a lengthy break during this magical offseason.

Next year.

And Eddie is confident that next year is a given. That's how in he is with their relationship, with Steve. They both have their own lives, their own fame, their own increasingly busy schedules. But they make it work, because they want it to work.

The fans have dubbed all their crisscrossing travel as "if he wanted to, he would" and have been straight up swooning. 

Eddie likes that thought, because he does want to, and he knows Steve wants to, too.

He's committed to this thing, and so is Steve. And if that means flying for hours to be there for the important shit, even if you have to turn around and fly right back, well fuck, you do it. And you don't even think about it.

Eddie slips in a pop cover, mid-set, just being silly, because he wants to shout out Steve a little bit extra tonight. He sings and when he gets to "'cause you know I love the players, and you love the game" and the crowd gets behind it. Steve, too, if his hands in the air are any indication. 

He's a pop girlie at heart, and Eddie loves him for it.

Steve is comfortable in his own skin, and he likes what he likes. He's supportive of Eddie, of Corroded Coffin, and very demonstrative with his affection and admiration. The love is always free-flowing. But, heavy metal isn't his thing. Not really. And that's okay.

So, a little pop is injected for his benefit, Eddie saying 'I love you for who you are' right back.

Buckwild is last, is always last, and Steve's here, so that means a subtle lyric change. He only does it when Steve's in attendance, and it makes the crowd go wild. Changing one word is enough to send them into a frenzy, like they're part of something special and sacred.

They are.

When he approaches the lyric, Steve has moved closer, right at the stage, in front of the barricade, and puts his hand up to his ear, hyping the crowd, getting ready for it, and Eddie can hardly sing through his fucking smile.

When they exit the stage, the first face he sees is Steve's, and Steve opens his arms and Eddie hugs him, pulling back and kissing him, over and over.

He's the one. 

The one he loves.

The one he'll marry.

The one. Period.

Steve waves to the crowd that's gathered to watch, and then he puts his arm around Eddie's waist, ushering him away, one more show over.

In bed, Eddie rests his head against Steve's bare chest. These last few weeks have been different, brand new, and exciting. It's the first time they've really gotten to feel like they're coming home to each other. Getting to be in the same place for an extended period of time, Steve following the tour.

Steve brushes Eddie's bangs off his face, and kisses his forehead.

"You were amazing tonight," Steve whispers, and Eddie grins. 

"So were you, working the crowd," Eddie says.

Steve laughs, and Eddie loves it. Steve's not shy. He's had all the media training, probably more than Eddie, because he's got a brand, a team, to protect. Eddie just runs his mouth at-will, always has.

Steve doesn't hide backstage where Eddie can't see him, no, he always makes sure he's supporting Eddie out loud and with his whole goddamn chest.

So, because he wants to, he does.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiesongfics and follow along with the fun! 🎶

Notes: Obviously inspired by the very public relationship of Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce. Goodie carrying the beer in his teeth is straight up a shoutout to Jason Kelce doing that at the Eras tour. 🍺

This one was so hard to stop writing for at the 2k max word count, lol.

[lollytea]

What would be your headcanon for how jealous would play out in a huntlow relationship cause they seem to healthy to do the whole make jealous thing, also I love your blog it’s a god send.

Neither Hunter nor Willow are especially prone to jealousy. Everybody gets jealous now and again so they both probably experience it occasionally but not to the extent that it affects their relationship.

Gotta remember that when Hunter first met Willow, she was very popular and well liked at Hexside, something he must have noticed before he even started developing a crush on her. His initial impression of her was a cool powerful witch that tons of people admired. So he's certainly not thrown off when that admiration from others starts making an appearance in a romantic sense.

It does not bother him. Not one bit. Because in his opinion, it's perfectly understandable. Like. What's he supposed to do? Confront them and demand they not have a big stupid crush on her? She's Willow fucking Park. It's a no-brainer. If somebody asked that of him a few months ago, he would be at a complete loss on how to go about it. He'd probably be more offended if somebody their age mentioned that they didn't have any interest in her whatsoever.

I like to believe that, while Hunter will probably still grapple with a lot of self-doubt post-series, his relationships are what he's most emotionally certain about. He doesn't question if the people who love him actually love him and that includes Willow. Huge growth from him. He's very secure in the fact that she's not going to suddenly meet somebody else and lose all interest in him. He knows he gets more love and attention from Willow than anyone else who's into her. So he's chill with half of Hexside fawning over her to their collective heart's content.

It's shit like

"I saw you flirting with Willow Park in the hallway. Aren't you worried her boyfriend is gonna get mad?"

"Dude I was talking to her boyfriend at lunch and he was giving me advice on how to impress her."

Willow on the other hand, is not an extremely jealous person but I like to believe that something about another person expressing an interest in Hunter tugs out a slightly petty and immature side of her. Emphasis on slightly.

It's the same side of her that was eager to crash the Owl House into Blight Manor just to show Amity that their moonlight conjuring was better than hers. It's the same side of her that used to just sit there and silently seethe at her desk when Boscha and her friends would snatch her pens and hairclips and snacks without any consideration for the fact that they were hers and you can't just take her stuff.

Of course, Willow has matured a lot since then. She's in a better place mentally. She's tons more confident and understands that, as Captain of the Flyer Derby team, its almost impossible to bully her anymore.

She's not threatened when people flirt with Hunter. She trusts him. She's just astounded at the audacity. Because surely, you are not trying to snatch Captain Willow Park's boyfriend right from under her nose, right? You can't be that dumb, right?

Willow is excellent at hiding it. Her actions are subtle. But if this is ever happening, she just wanders over, friendly as ever, though suddenly a lot more affectionate with Hunter than she tends to publicly be. Getting a little clingier is all she does to establish that flirting with him just simply isn't going to fly. And it usually stops after that.

So yeah. It definitely irks her a bit. But she never really lets jealousy consume her.

[indiscriminate-idiocy]

my favorite genre of Gundams and Gunpla is just when they let the designer go buckwild. Like the FA-78 Full Armor from Gundam Thunderbolt.

look at this dickhead. he doesn't need four shields. he probably doesn't even need two shields. and look at all those decals! fucking impossible to apply, most of them weren't even in the anime because fuck animating all that.

if that doesn't tickle your fancy, what about Full Armor Unicorn from Gundam Unicorn?

look at this fucking shithead. he has like a bajillion weapons. giant thrusters on the back that need their own little stand. this is the Real Grade so it's a bit more "realistic" but it's still fucking bullshit. absolute bullshit.

those are some recent Katoki designs (Katoki is the designer known for being batshit insane with his designs) but look at this design from the nineties. Ladies and Gentlemen, i give you Gundam Heavyarms.

fucking. bullshit. his chest and his shoulders open up to reveal a gazillion guns? ok. and he has another gun strapped to his arm? it's stupid, but it's not the stupidest thing so far.

THIS IS

ITS THE SAME SUIT BUT THEY STRAPPED THREE MORE GUNS ON IT AND HAJIME FUCKING KATOKI MADE IT

I KID YOU NOT WHEN I SAY THAT THIS GLORIOUS BASTARD HAS FILLED EVERY WAKING SECOND OF MY LIFE

I TELL MY MOM "hey mama, i just got a new gundam!"

AND SHE ASKS ME IF KATOKI MADE IT BECAUSE HE HAS INFECTED MY PERSONAL LIFE hes a fucking bullshit stupid man with too much time on his hands and i simultaneously hope he stops designing gundams for my sanity's sake and also i hope that he lives for a thousand more years and draws a ton of cool robots so i can build little plastic modesl of them.

[0hcicero]

So I just started reading A Court of Thorns and Roses (audiobook), and am I the only one who is wondering if the author did any research into poor subsistence living or the lives of peasants? Because wow, I know Feyre’s family used to be rich, but if that was 8 years ago and y’all are poor as dirt now, somehow in the intervening period you might have learned:

- trap lines in the winter are far superior to active hunting. It burns less calories, you can use it with fish and land animals, and it will save you from frostbite bc instead of sitting in a blind for hours, you can go to your lines at certain times and head home, or drive animals toward your lines.

- buying flower seeds - or any garden seeds - is a suckers game when you’re poor. You only really need to buy seeds once!! Once you harvest, you let stuff ‘go to seed’ and then you collect it and store it for the winter, often trading seeds with your neighbours.

- they let things actively RUN OUT before doing anything about it. That’s absolutely buckwild if you’ve ever been poor — when you’re poor, you know how to make a meal stretch, and you DO IT.

- there is hunting, but no gathering?? This family has not stored any veg for winter, but neither do they go gather mushrooms, rosehips, roots, tubers, nuts, or even fucking bark?? What happened to their cottage garden?? Was it just flowers?! Were they that rich that they don’t understand that a garden produces food? Did they close their eyes as they walked past all their peasant neighbours and their gardens? Bc that’s maybe the wildest thing I’ve seen from both a historical and a ‘grew up so close to dirt poor you couldn’t tell the difference’ perspective!

- She left a whole ass Giant wolf carcass when her family is starving. Nah nah nah no that is the universe smiling on you when you’re subsistence! You will make a travois or somehow find a way to tie that to you and drag it along - that’s double the food, and possibly more money, because you could live off the wolf (which I assume does not taste great) and sell off some of the deer (which is delicious).

- she didn’t at least do a basic clean of her kill out in the woods?! She did not tan the hides?! Y’all, you do not want to be cleaning any kill on the kitchen table. Why? Because cleaning involves removing the intestines and stomach. That means shit and piss and food digestion in different stages, and the gases produced. You do that *outside*, typically at least close to where you made your kill, because you don’t want to have to have any…spills, and because it makes things a bit lighter to carry. Butchering? For sure do it on a table, but cleaning is an outdoor chore. Also, tanning a hide is not just skinning a creature! It’s scraping all the membranes off it, stretching and drying it, and curing the skin - sometimes with smoke, but often with a pretty gross solution (often including brain oil, and historically, I believe urine and/or feces, and other things with the right chemical components). It’s not a simple or quick task!

- soups, pottages, stews, with dried lentils, beans, or peas would have been the staple meals (depending on the climate and environment, but it feels fairly British thus far). Just having roasted venison (def not the best way to eat venison just from taste alone) would likely be a very very rare occurrence, because, as noted earlier, they’re so poor they would need to make it stretch. You would cure it or dry it or turn it into sausage. You would use it sparingly within a meal, not to serve as the whole meal.

- the market. If you were poor, you would likely be a stranger to spices, but not to salt. Salt is deeply necessary to survive in that period, as it’s one of the only ways of safely processing and storing meat with any longevity. And? If you got the money that they did while being as poor and as starving as they were? The first thing you would do — even if you were the most stupid rich person before then — is stock up your stores of dry goods! Flour, salt, honey, dried beans/peas/lentils, vegetables that store - onions, squashes, potatoes, root vegetables like carrots. It’s straight up Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs here - you will not give a shit about a new cloak before you give a shit about saying your hunger. They are said to be ‘starving’. Sorting out your survival comes before sorting out your fashion.

Anyways, this has been me for channel 4, reporting on anachronisms and misrepresentations in fantasy fiction. More news at 10.