#i try to post most wednesdays for the record

[quinn-pop]

waiting to post the next to be apart chapter because i need to review One paragraph and my only writing friend is asleep.

im still pretty busy but gotta make the most of cringe day Wednesday amiright

[catmask]

im sorry if i missed it but do you upload vids of your pokemon snapdex or warmups anywhere? i’d love to see your process but so far in streams i haven’t seen them (not that i don’t like the critter, just pokemon is my hyperfix and i’m trying to understand how other artists draw them). love your work btw! 🤍

i usually do the snapdex drawings as warmups or cooldowns - tonight ill be doing a pokemon stream as its nuzlocke wednesday, but if youd like i could always mark pokemon down as a possible study stream topic? also, maybe ill start stream tonight out by drawing my snapdex for the day. i havent done it yet, so if you have any requests im happy to hear!

at one point i was recording my pokemon snapdex draws but they always seemed to tank the posts i put them on (most socmeds dont really like video posts unfortunately...)

that said - i do have a folder of speedpaints on my youtube!

and of course, if you'd like to see all my pokemon art in one place, there's always my art blog tag for it.

thank you! if theres anything else i can do to help please lmk!!

[talesofesther]

scorch marks | ch 3

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Series Summary: Wednesday has been careful to keep what you two have behind closed doors and far away from labels; but when someone starts to take it — take you — away from her, she realizes how much she cares.

A/N: I'm not sure if I'm completely happy with how this turned out, but that's my life nowadays. And I wanted to post this for you guys before I leave for my little trip for new years, so I hope you enjoy it. Also, I think I ended up writing this one exclusively from Wednesday's pov lol. <3

Masterlist | Read ch 2 here

Human emotions were a strange, bothersome thing. Love could make you kill just as much as anger; ambition could make you get down on one knee to pledge your devotion to someone just as much as love.

They can get in the way of a clear mind, making you say or do something that would come back to torture you later.

That was probably their most devious power. And they lead to feelings; that are messy and unstable.

Wednesday prided herself on having control over them, not the other way around. Or at least she did. Because recently she has been victim to so many, that she didn't have the stomach to keep count.

She remembers the coldness of the rain against her skin as she walked away from Weathervane — away from you — it was pleasant and comforting; a safe blanket as the droplets trickled down her forehead all the way to her chin and hid the few stray tears that escaped her.

Her steps had been fast in desperation to get away. Her throat closed so tightly that she thought having someone choking her would be more bearable. Her heart beating so painfully, that maybe a bullet would've been more merciful.

She walked, and walked, and walked; her feet carrying her to school without realizing it. She was soaked when she stepped into her dorm, making puddles of water with each step she took. She remembers Enid talking, but the words were blurred.

Wednesday had made a beeline to the shower, turning it on with a temperature colder than the rain she had just escaped from.

Some say the second time around is more bearable. This certainly wasn't the case for her.

It was the day Wednesday put an end to whatever was happening between you and her. The day where she hated the most that she was forced to feel her own emotions.

The week that followed wasn't an improvement either.

Your words kept replaying in Wednesday's mind like a broken record; this is not a date, and please can we talk?

What would you have said, had she cared to listen?

Wednesday sat in front of her typewriter every day, staring at the blank paper and being unable to fill it. She'd hit a stump, because maybe she'd never know what you would have said.

You passed by each other in Nevermore's hallways as if you were just two strangers in the street, never to cross paths again. When you stood on one side of the bee keeper's shed, Wednesday stayed in the far opposite one, and if she so much as tried coming closer, you'd drop whatever it was you were doing and walk away. Even if Enid asked, you didn't come to her dorm anymore, prompting the werewolf to ask questions even though she could guess the answer.

Wednesday didn't know it was possible to miss someone this much. She caught herself tracing the lines of her own palm in a motion that was yours to make, brushing the corner of her lips in the place that was yours to kiss. And as much as she hated this feeling with all her might, hated you for forcing it into her, she couldn't chase it away.

It was so sadistically ironic that Wednesday kept you at arm's length in order to avoid attachment and loss, and that's exactly what she got. Maybe this is what Goody was trying to warn her about, that no matter the road she takes, the end will always be the same.

—

Today was a friday, ten days and four hours since the last time Wednesday spoke with you, since she replicated a damn drama cliche with her pitiful walk in the rain. Not that she was keeping count.

She sat at one of the tables on the quad, Enid at her side talking about something she wasn't listening to. The day was gray, morbidly so as the clouds loomed above, dark and cold in a way that Wednesday would've loved if it wasn't for you.

You who sat at the other end of the quad, putting as many tables and obnoxiously loud students between you and Wednesday as you could. You who looked so undeniably beautiful under the shadows. You who was smiling, happy as you laughed with your friends and spared no glances into the crowd to look for anyone.

Were you happier without her?

Wednesday sucked in a sharp breath at the mere thought of it, her lower lip quivering slightly as she exhaled, before she averted her eyes from you with a blink.

She turned to Enid only to find the girl's bright eyes already on her, a knowing smirk on her pink lips; "I won't even ask if you were listening."

"I got bored after the word shopping," Wednesday stated, raising an eyebrow that got Enid rolling her eyes.

"And because you were stalking our resident pretty girl," Enid teased, bumping Wednesday's shoulder with hers.

It was a truth that Wednesday countered with a lie; "I only stalk people who are hiding something or who have something I want, she doesn't fit on any of those."

Enid slumped on her seat, resting her head on her hands as she looked at Wednesday, "you can't keep doing this, Wednesday."

"Doing what?"

"Pretending like you don't care," Enid says then, with the frustration of someone who's just seen their favorite couple from a tv show hit another almost.

"Why would you assume the opposite?" Wednesday asks irritatedly.

Enid gives her best friend a look that could only be read as seriously? before she sits up straighter; "you two went from hanging out in the dorm for hours and sneaking out when you think no one's watching, to staying on different sides of the school and avoiding each other like the plague. Even you have to feel that change."

But I don't want to; Wednesday thinks to herself. Her only response is to look away.

With a sigh, Enid softens; "why won't you just tell her the truth?" She asks gently. The werewolf doesn't know the full story, and when her roommate ignores her questions and neither you nor Yoko will talk, gossip can only do so much; but even a blind person can see that whatever happened, hurt both of you.

Wednesday frowns; "what truth?"

"That you have feelings for her, silly. Like, genuinely more than friends feelings." There's an excited smile on Enid's lips as she says it, eyes glinting with the prospect of a love story.

"That's a horrible idea," Wednesday's face does something complicated, as if she's sorting on how to feel about this — or tasted something sour. "Besides, you know what happened the last time I did something remotely close to that."

And just like that, the muddy waters start to clear, the fog starts to dissipate and Enid understands what is happening — if just a little better.

The blonde reaches out a hand to Wednesday's forearm, squeezing softly; "Wednesday, this is Y/N we're talking about, she's not gonna turn into a murderous monster and break your heart."

Wednesday visibly gulps, her jaw painfully clenched as she felt uncharacteristically small under Enid's gaze.

"Plus I thought you'd be into the whole potential heartbreak thing." Enid teases, fighting back a grin, to which Wednesday can only mumble back;

"Not nearly as fun as I thought it'd be."

Switching her gaze between you and the raven-haired girl by her side, Enid hums; "want my advice?"

"No."

"I'd take my chances if I were you, because I know she genuinely cares about you. A lot."

There was something about the way Wednesday dropped her shoulders slightly, about the way she stole another glance at you as if you had just bought a one-way ticket to another country. It was that bittersweet feeling of a good thing that came to its end way too early.

Enid felt like crying.

"I'm afraid I'm too late, Enid."

—

It wasn't until dinner time — and after much, much insistence from Enid — that Wednesday decided to try and mend her mistake.

The cafeteria was already filled with students when she arrived, in true Nevermore fashion, the place was big and ancient; a meticulously decorated stone-walled room with tables and a kitchen area. Werewolves, Enid's brothers probably, were making a scene near the kitchen; there were gorgons and sirens playing a card game on one of the tables; and you sat with the vampires, with Yoko by your side no less.

Wednesday felt curious eyes on her, undoubtedly her peers wondering why she'd been staring unmoving for so long. A deep breath passed through her lips as she begrudgingly swallowed her pride and took the first step, her boots thudding against the stone floor.

With each of her steps, she repeated the words in her head; can we talk? Do you still wish to talk? Or would it be better, I need to talk with you?

Wednesday decides that fighting a murderous monster would be infinitely easier.

Your eyes locked in on her figure before she even reached you, and Wednesday smiled, a tiny tilt of lips that only you would notice; but you looked away from her before it happened.

Did people care about each other only because they enjoyed the pain that comes with it?

Something akin to panic fluttered inside Wednesday's stomach when you got up from your seat, reaching for your backpack and muttering a few goodbyes to your friends as you walked between the tables. The Addams girl quickened her steps, almost bumping into Bianca and not bothering to turn around when the siren called her out on it.

Wednesday just about managed to stop in front of you before you left for the doors.

Is this what you felt on that day?

Your eyes closed with a sigh, your hands were buried deep in your pockets and there was a rigidness to your shoulders. You were nervous, and even if it wasn't the right time, Wednesday was proud of herself for knowing it.

But having you this close again after so long — not really, ten days aren't that long, yet Wednesday hates that it felt like ages — has its downsides.

Wednesday couldn't speak. The only thing she needed to do, and her words are stuck. Feelings are a pain in the ass to deal with.

Yoko stood by your side, arms crossed over her chest; "do you have anything to say or what?"

She's protective, Wednesday doesn't blame her for it anymore.

Yes, she should say. There's a glint of hope in your eyes when you look at her; Wednesday finds herself wanting to reach out, but she's not sure she's allowed to anymore. She wonders if you missed her as much as she misses you.

"No," is what she says, and it's quite painful.

—

It's well into the night when Wednesday makes her way back to her dorm, the stairs creaking under her boots, a half-moon shining high on the sky being the only source of light.

her insides are twisting with a mix of rage, frustration, self-pity, and something else that's just heavy.

She pushed open the door to her dorm only to find it empty. Enid's bed is unmade and Wednesday's typewriter still has a blank page on it.

Enid had texted Wednesday earlier, something about going out with Ajax and not coming back too soon. The solitude was well appreciated, it gave the Addams girl some much-needed peace to work on her novel. The only problem is that her mind was nowhere near peaceful.

The first thing that caught Wednesday's attention after she walked in was the potted cactus by her window, it looked a little sad, its soil all dry and the color not as green as it should be. Wednesday didn't think twice as she walked to her bathroom, filling a cup with water and gently emptying it into the plant's pot. At least of that part of you, she'd take good care of.

She took off her hoodie next, throwing it on top of her bed. It was pathetic that the simple action got her thinking of you too, of when you'd lounge on there talking nonsense with Thing while she wrote.

How could one person hold so much power over another was beyond Wednesday, especially because she didn't allow it; it just happened. It happened that she kissed you out of impulse, just because she couldn't die without knowing what your lips felt like; or that she kept calling on you more and more after that, feeling a hole in her chest whenever you were away for too long.

It just happened that she fell for you, and maybe it was inevitable, maybe you'd be her doom. But it was her choice to push you away, and she'd be lying if she said it wasn't the one thing she regretted the most.

There was a knock on Wednesday's door that snapped her mind back to reality. She turned around, frowning as she stared at the dark wooden thing, wondering who would seek her out this late in the night.

Honestly? Wednesday should've seen it coming as soon as Enid suggested she should talk with you. She should've known.

She swung open the door only to reveal you on the other side, in plaid pajama pants and a white shirt, hugging yourself because of the coldness of the empty hallways.

Your posture went rigid as soon as your eyes found Wednesday's, it got her wondering if you forgot this was her dorm, if you knocked on the wrong door by accident.

"Hello," Wednesday said as she looked at you, features impassive, her hand tightening around the door handle until her knuckles turned white.

You ran your tongue over your bottom lip before you spoke; "Enid texted me, said you needed help with something. That it was an emergency," you gulped, diving into over-explanation, "and that she wasn't here, so she asked if I could…" You trailed off, your fingers nervously tapping your arm.

Oh. Maybe her roommate wasn't too far off when she said you cared. It was rare the times where anyone would be able to easily read Wednesday's emotions. This was one of them and it wasn't a surprise that you were the cause.

There was a glint to Wednesday's eyes that belonged to you, her features softened in a blink — no more creases to her eyebrows and lips parting in vain when her words got tangled on her tongue — it was the calmness after a raging storm.

Wednesday used to mock the people who spoke about soulmates, about the invisible red string that few ones were lucky enough to find the other end of. But could there ever be any other explanation for the way you set her at ease?

She nodded once, stepping aside so you could walk in.

You were hesitant in the way you did so, as if you didn't belong, and Wednesday hated it — because you did belong, right here by her side. You stood in the middle of her dorm, right between the division of colors to blankness on the round window.

The air felt electric around you. Wednesday chanced a step closer, her gaze casting over every twitch of your expressions; "I do," she started, and a beat passed as she refused to take the last chance to back down and let you go, "I do have something to say."

You scoffed, "that doesn't sound like an emergency," but there was no bite to your tone, almost as if you wanted her to object.

"It is," Wednesday told you, allowing the affection she held for you to drip from every syllable. One more chance, that's all she needed, and maybe she’d tell you just what it is that you do to her.

"Okay."

You had a kindness to you that she was underserving of, Wednesday thought. But maybe she could work her way to it. She raised her chin, striving to keep her heartbeat in check; "I wasn't completely fair last time we spoke, I'll measure my words better if you're willing to talk to me again."

Wednesday said the words as if they were the particularities of a contract, and not an apology to someone who held her cold heart in their hands. She realized it was the wrong thing to say as soon as your features fell.

You took on the glow of the moon effortlessly as it came through the window, it framed the lines of your jaw and cheekbone, all delicate and pretty. You ducked your head, allowing your hair to partially cover your eyes as you nodded a few times. "Great," you mumbled, before taking a few quick steps with intent to go around Wednesday and back to the lonely hallways.

She didn't let you, her cold hand closed around your own as you made to walk past her, keeping you in place in a gesture that surprised both of you.

Having your skin against hers again made Wednesday feel like coming home after a long journey. It's strange that that's what you became to her.

The hold she had on you wasn't strong, you could easily pull your hand away and leave. But you didn't.

"It was unfair of me," Wednesday started, each word tighter than the next as she forced them out. More than anything, Wednesday despised talking about her feelings, but words are all she has now, "the mistake was mine and I will accept the consequences for it. But you should have all cards on the table when making your judgment."

If there was a heaven, you already had your place on it — you turned back around to face Wednesday properly, and without letting go of her hand, you adjusted your hold so that your fingers could intertwine; your thumb tracing random patterns on her skin in a motion that you knew calmed her down. Because you knew how hard this was for her — Wednesday was sure you were an angel in your past life.

The dorm room had never felt this detached from the outside world, as it does now, holding this one moment for you and Wednesday alone.

For a split second, where she allowed herself the luxury of only existing in your presence, Wednesday wondered if this is what real love felt like. She took in a deep breath, feeling your perfume as she did so before focusing her gaze on your joined hands; they fit well together.

"I used to ask myself why I was the one who kissed you first that day." Wednesday hesitated, nagging on the inside of her cheek with her teeth, "and I realized that it's because you make me feel something I never- hardly ever feel when around other people."

Her eyes glanced up at you in a lazy motion, only to find that your eyes never left her once. There was a soft smile on your lips, overflowing adoration. Wednesday was sometimes envious of the way you wore your heart on your sleeve so effortlessly.

"It's an annoying feeling really," the raven-haired girl admitted, raising an eyebrow at you, "I wanted to rip it away from me the first time it happened." Her lips hovered open as she heard her own heartbeat, thunderous as ever, "but the one that came in your absence was much worse."

The passage of time felt equally too slow and too fast. You weren't doing anything. Did she do something wrong?

Wednesday tensed when, carefully, you raised a hand to her face. You were tender in the way that you pushed the black strands of hair behind Wednesday's ear, your fingertips lingering and tracing her cheek before you dropped your hand. As if you'd missed touching her too.

And oh you did, if Wednesday knew just how much, she'd probably be all over you already. "I feel it too," you whispered, a secret confession only for her to hear.

"I know we never talked about what we were, and I'm not asking you to," you spoke calmly, "but you really hurt me, Wednesday, at the very least I thought we were friends."

What if I'd like us to be more? What would you say, is that something you'd ever want too?

Before Wednesday could ask any of the questions she was dying to know the answer to, you asked yours first;

"Did you mean that? What you said?"

And the Addams girl figured that this was a more pressing matter anyway.

Wednesday shook her head with urgency, her hand squeezing yours to keep you in place, "it could never be true." She took a step closer, her boots bumping your sneakers, "hurting you, it's the last thing I'd ever want to do, and I apologize that it happened."

The raw honesty of Wednesday's tone was all you needed to hear to let go of her hand in order to cup her cheeks, pulling her into a kiss that spoke more than any of you ever could.

Wednesday grasped onto your waist almost desperately, her hands bunching up your shirt as she glued your body to hers in a nearly bruising grip, dying to feel the most of you that she could manage. She pressed herself into you, her nose brushing your cheek as her soft lips molded with yours; telling you she'd never miss anyone as much as she misses you, that she'd never feel so strongly for someone as she does for you; that she'd have you until death's cold embrace took her.

Your hands traveled from her jaw to the back of her neck, fingers mingling with the wisps of hair there. You pressed your lips to each corner of her mouth, bumping your noses as you did so, leaving testimonies of your affection each time your upper lip grazed hers; letting her know that she'd ruined anyone else to you, that you'd never feel for someone else, what you feel for her.

Wednesday pulled back just enough to be able to breathe, her forehead brushing yours as you felt more than heard the shape of her words; "let me make it up to you… Please."

You chuckled, tracing the outline of her lower lip with your thumb. It was reddish and just a little swollen, warm to the touch and it was your fault.

It got you smiling, because you could also feel her own smile under your digit; "gladly."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @gayestfeels26 @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @witchyhs-blog @tobylikesfire @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova

@justyourwritter69 @natashaxwife @fieldofsecretss @faunusrubyrose @darkblueeyedperson @jujuu23 @part-timetraveller @athenablack1959 @loki-is-loved @daddy-jareau @lordsisi08 @get-the-fuck-outta-here @simonsbluee @lovemesomemaura @whatawonderfulunsername @r4td0lll @red-havana @rob1nbuckl3ys @incrediblygay37 @panicattheeverywherekid @sometandomstuff333 @panicattheeverywherekid @sometandomstuff333 @wayvjinsol @saintnookling @awolfcsworld @georgi-salva @unforgettwble-sumii @youralphawolf72 @machinesanaloginterface @raiden88 @tani725

[ingravinoveritas]

You know what's kind of wild to me? Anna just confirmed they've been together for 6 years. People forget she's still 29, and isn't 30 yet. So they met when she was still 23. Not hugely different from 25, but notable I think. Idk where the narrative that she was 25 came from and how that stuck.

Hi there! So I am still catching up on Asks, and I wanted to make sure I addressed these (grouped together due to similar themes). For those who might not have seen, what is being referred to are two separate incidents that occurred in the days after Anna posted the t-shirt story on Instagram. On Tuesday, she posted this story lashing out at a Swedish publication for sharing a story originally from a UK publication (The Independent) about Michael's answer to the age gap question on The Assembly. The story was originally in Swedish, but the English translation is on the right:

Then on Wednesday, she did the same thing again, this time with another Swedish paper:

Since so much of this hinges on what Michael said in his response, I will post a short clip of that here, so we have the visual:

When AL's stories were first posted, I noticed a few comments on a post from @nightgoodomens from someone who speaks Swedish, and after reading the article, their observation was that all the magazines did was literally translate what Michael said, word for word (which we can then also further confirm by watching the video above).

So Michael's words were translated directly, and on top of that, Anna was not tagged by these papers, or contacted by reporters "for comment"--she seemingly sought out these news stories and shared them on her own social media. What's strange is that most of us would never have even seen them otherwise, and yet she chose to draw attention to them. And if these articles truly are meaningless clickbait, I'm confused as to why Anna would lash out so hard at them, especially if she feels as secure in her and Michael's relationship as she has wanted us to believe.

The other thing for me is that the one voice that is (again) noticeably absent here is Michael's. Nearly every post Michael has responded to/shared in relation to The Assembly was about a moment between him and one of the interviewers, Leo. Not only has the clip of Michael's answer to the age gap question gotten much less circulation/attention than the initial clip of the girl asking him the question, he has not said a single word about it since the show aired on April 5th.

He has especially not said anything about being misquoted (either in UK magazines/newspapers or international ones). And this becomes even more glaring when you realize that Michael immediately jumped on someone Twitter the day before AL shared that first story and corrected them for misquoting him (in regard to his comments about Welsh actors and Welsh roles). So it's very clear that if Michael thought he was being misquoted, there is no reason why he wouldn't speak up about it. And yet...complete silence.

I also find it interesting that for months, Michael was being attacked on social media, first in the aftermath of his comments about the situation in the Middle East, then more recently after recording a video saying hello to Good Omens fans in Russia. In both cases, he was defamed over and over again, accused of supporting war and genocide, and in general had his comments twisted and distorted beyond recognition--in other words, he was repeatedly misquoted (to put it mildly). Not once did Anna defend him against any of this. Not once was there an Insta story or anything speaking up in support of Michael. But as soon as it was something about her/their relationship, here she was posting these stories and letting us know exactly what her priorities are.

To your comments @lookforthelight97 about AL inadvertently saying the quiet parts out loud, that was also something that caught my attention. We could be here all day talking about the narrative and who is trying to change what, but for those who don't know, the narrative of her being 25 came from every media outlet stating that Michael and AL met in May of 2019...despite the fact that she gave birth to Lyra just four months later, in September.

It was this discrepancy that gave a lot of us the feeling that something was off even back in 2019 (and I would urge folks to check out @problematicwelshman, who covered a lot more of this at the time). In actuality, Michael and AL would have had to have met in late 2018 (when Anna was actually 24, as her birthday is in August) for her to then become pregnant and have the baby in September. All of this to say that if the official PR line for the last five years has been that they met in 2019, it makes you wonder why AL is suddenly publicly contradicting it, especially to show the lack of contentment she seems to feel about the relationship even after five (pardon me, six) years.

In any case, my incredulity is and continues to be at AL so readily showing her insecurities in this way, because all these two Insta stories have done is to draw more attention to her response than to the articles that are mentioned. Articles that again, none of us would have known about if she hadn't shared them. Yet as was said above, I don't think there is anything that anyone could post or write that casts doubt on Michael and AL's relationship the way her own social media posts do.

And to what you @vaguelyomens and @angelsadvocate96 said about Michael mentioning that his greatest fear is being alone, I feel like maybe Michael has such a fear of being alone because he already knows what it's like to feel alone. To know deep down that you are not remotely on the same page as the person you're in a relationship with. To know that they don't understand you and never will, but feeling responsible for them nonetheless, and not knowing how to reconcile those two things. It's difficult to imagine anything that would make someone feel more alone than that.

So, those are my thoughts on the Insta stories AL shared earlier this week. As I have said before, I know that I could be completely wrong, and I'm happy for folks to share their perspective, whether you agree or disagree. A heck of a lot to think about, for sure...

[rocknrolldisaster]

kurty Cobain with a best friend reader who's helping him deal with his depression?

sure here’s my best try to not sound cringe lmao

~~~~~~~~~~

Post-Gig Blues

trigger warnings: mention of drugs,angst, fluff, that’s about it really lol

September 1989

You worked a 11-6 shift at a record store in the center of Seattle every Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. It was boring. The only things happening in that shop were teenagers stealing items, being loud, trying to flirt with you or couples making out in the corner, where the posters were. Your roommate, Kurt was in a hardcore punk rock band called Nirvana. And they just released their first record three months ago, and at the moment, they’re the “Most popular rising band in Seattle”

Hell, even the store’s tapes, CDs and vinyls of Bleach are on a low stock.

You’ve supported Kurt with his band ever since you moved in, five months ago. You’re best buddies, and you always feel safe when he walks with you in the dark.

23:16pm. Friday.

You sit at your desk, drawing a flower pot which stands at your desk while watching television. You’re the only one home, since Nirvana are playing a gig late tonight.

*knock knock* *sigh* “it’s me..” -you hear his tired and groggy voice outside the front door. He sounds fed up.

Your head snaps to the door, before you get up and approach the door, unlocking it and opening it.

“Hey Kurt, how was the show?” - you ask, with a polite smile, standing aside so he can walk in. His long, greasy blonde hair is drenched by the rain.

“oh- yeah, yeah we killed it.” - he says, his voice slurred, not sounding like it. He closes the door and locks it, shoving his hands into his coat pockets to hide how shaky and pale they are.

“doesn’t sound like it..” - you respond, looking at him with a raised eyebrow before you walk back to your desk.

“yeah, yeah I’m just tired.” - he grumbles, his hand reaching out to gently scratch the bridge of his nose then going back in his pocket.

“huh, me too dude.” - you say with a small chuckle, attempting to light up the conversation.

“…yeah.” - he murmurs. just staring at the floor for a moment. eventually he sighs and takes his shoes off, setting them aside, then coat off, hanging it up.

You continue drawing, but often glancing at him at the corner of your eye. He’s like this a lot. friendly, bubbly, creative and energetic for a few days, then some days it just crashes in when he’s lazy, stubborn, exhausted and fed up. And you know he shoots up on heroin every few weeks, thinking it’ll help with his intense stomach pains, and his moodiness.

He rubs his temples with a deep sigh, then swings his guitar case in the corner with no cares, and plopping onto the bed.

“god.” - he grumbles.

“What?” - you turn your head to him

“I don’t know.” - he rubs his eyes.

Your expression softens, you hum softly.

“Something happened at the show?”

“no it was great, genuinely.” -he replies.

“crowd loved it.” - he adds after a moment, looking over at you, his expression blank.

“then what?”

he rolls his eyes.

you tilt your head.

“tell me? you can always talk to me, kurt. I won’t judge.” -you softly tell him.

he scoffs.

“yeah right.” - he replies sarcastically, resting his chin on his hand and looking at the wall in front of his bed.

“i mean it, kurt. i never judged, never will.”

he stays unresponsive for a moment or two, before turning to look at you. You look at him back.

“you ever just…go out, and have the time of your life, but after…” -he starts, but his voice trails off. He looks back at the wall.

“Mhm?” - you wait for him to continue.

“you just hate the party life…it’s not for you..?” - he looks back at you.

“yeah, sometimes..” - you nod, looking back at the television then looking back at him.

“huh, thank god I don’t live in L.A.” - he chuckles bitterly, before sighing again.

“so what’s the main problem?” -you tilt your head.

his expression falters.

“it feels weird..im not the biggest fan of being famous ‘round here.”

“i get that.” -you nod.

“…im getting approached on the streets cause everyone knows me..I d…don’t like i…it..” -he stutters on his last words, his voice starting to sound more shaky.

You immediately pay close attention to his face, noticing his eyes are watery, you quickly get up and walk to him, sitting next to him on the edge of his bed.

“fuck, I’m sorry for this.” - he grumbles, his palm on his head.

“No it’s okay..you can cry..” - you reassure him.

“if it’s a good thing then your record is selling out at work..” - you raise your eyebrows, but he doesn’t answer.

You take his hands off his head and gently take them in yours, warming them up. He’s not fine, and he doesn’t want to admit it to you, since you’re the friend who he prefers emotionally supporting.

“you’re drenched.” - you softly say, looking at his wet hair and his clothes covered in raindrops.

“yeah, i knoww.”

You look into his eyes.

“You should take care of yourself.”

He looks back into yours.

“Don’t have the time to anymore.”

You roll your eyes at his response.

“Kurt, you need a break, you deserve it.”

“how..? i can’t, I got all this band shit. how could i take a break with everyone eagerly wanting to see me everyday?” - he gets more worked up, a tear rolling down his face.

“don’t listen to the people, just do whatever you want. i get paid on sunday, so I’ll take you to a spa on monday, maybe also have some lunch out” - you gently wipe his tears.

“pff, guess so.” - he rolls his eyes and sniffles, starting to quietly cry.

“shit, no it’s okay..” - you frown and pull him into a gentle hug.

“shut up.” - he grumbles.

“no let it all out..”

he eventually feels comfortable enough to let it out in front of you, he sighs and slowly rests his head on your shoulder, quietly crying into it.

“i’m here..it’s gonna get better.”

~~~~~~~~

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

George W. Bush, the infamously anti-gay and neoconservative former U.S. president who invaded Iraq on a lie, has criticized congressional Republicans for threatening to defund the U.S. President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR), a largely successful African HIV-prevention program that he launched back in 2003. “There is no program more pro-life” than PEPFAR, he wrote.

Though PEPFAR is estimated to have saved over 25 million lives, its funding is set to expire on September 30. Congressional Republicans are falsely claiming that the program promotes abortion and using its re-funding as a bargaining chip in budget negotiations. Republicans have threatened to defund the entire federal government at the end of the month unless they’re allowed to slash military diversity programs and military aid to Ukraine and to increase anti-immigration measures at the U.S.-Mexico border.

“We are on the verge of ending the HIV/AIDS epidemic. To abandon our commitment now would forfeit two decades of unimaginable progress and raise further questions about the worth of America’s word,” Bush wrote in a Wednesday opinion article in The Washington Post.

Bush said that his Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, his White House chief of staff Joshua Bolton, and his senior policy advisor Michael Gerson had advised him to begin PEPFAR. Gerson reportedly told Bush that it would be “a source of national shame” if the U.S. didn’t try to help end the worldwide HIV epidemic.

Bush’s opinion article cited words that Gerson himself had written in defense of PEPFAR in November 2017: “Are Republicans in Congress prepared to squander a legacy of GOP leadership that has won the United States considerable goodwill around the world? Among evangelical Christians, what definition of being ‘pro-life’ does not include saving millions of lives from preventable disease and death?”

Adding his own thoughts, Bush wrote, “There is no program more pro-life than one which has saved more than 25 million lives. I urge Congress to reauthorize PEPFAR for another five years without delay.”

During his presidency, Bush backed a constitutional amendment against same-sex marriage, and used bans on same-sex marriage to help him win re-election in 2004. While he served, 27 states banned same-sex marriage.

Despite Bush’s anti-gay record, PEPFAR was “a sound investment in U.S. security,” Ben Plumley, the former CEO of the now-defunct international HIV organization Pangea, said in a now-deleted interview with Hornet.com. Plumley said the program “generated very significant goodwill towards the United States” and countered “the spread of radical Islam or radical anti-Western attitudes in sub-Saharan Africa.”

Plumley also noted that most HIV transmissions in sub-Saharan Africa are heterosexual, meaning that conservative Republicans could support PEPFAR without worrying about seeming too overtly supportive of the LGBTQ+ community.

[aaajaxolotl]

Feast Your Eyes: Fandom Cookbook Recipe Review #2

You Won’t Have Mush-room For Seconds - Minecraft: Gather, Cook, Eat! Official Cookbook

Tonight’s menu: sourced from the Official Minecraft Cookbook

Main Course: Mooshroom Burger, pg 55

Side Dish: Roasted Crops, pg 26

Full review under the cut!

Aurum Leuci’s Log:

[Begin recording.] Uh, hi. It’s Chef Aurum Leuci again, late… still. Are you sure you fixed the portal coordinates? Because this is NOT the culinary facility. Everything is cubes. I think I might actually be in a computer, because, uh.. when I say everything is cubes, I mean everything is cubes. I’m fine, and my gear is fine, and everything I make is fine, but I’m on an island full of giant pixelated-looking mushrooms, and pixelated… cow… things? With mushrooms growing on them.

…those could probably make a delicious meal, actually. Don’t worry about me, I’m going to see what I can cook up for some quick dinner. This weird new dimension might be a place worth exploring. As always, no need to worry. If I get into a sticky situation, I’ll jump dimensions again— but hopefully I’ll at least have time to eat.

If it’s good, I’ll be sure to bring some back to the lab for you. Aurum Leuci out. [End log.]

Please see this post for my full review scale!

Main Dish: Mooshroom Burger

RATING:

Difficulty: 5/5

Ingredients: 5/5

Immersion: 4/5

Time: 5/5

End Result: 4/5

TOTAL RATING: 23/25

I love this recipe, and so does my entire family. It’s a delicious swiss-and-mushroom burger that’s easily made completely plant-based using Impossible Beef and Daiya cheese- and it always turns out SO good! The reason this recipe isn’t quite perfect is twofold, so let me start with the somewhat sillier reason first: I WANT THIS BURGER IN MY GAME!!! Please!! We have the technology (bread, mushrooms, cooked beef). Give me the mooshroom burger, Mojang. Or at least a sandwich of some kind. The second point off is a matter of personal preference; the original recipe makes four absolutely MASSIVE burgers. Like, big enough that my family (all four of us) could barely finish them the first time I made this. I highly recommend cutting the recipe (and the resulting two, still massive, burgers) in half. Aside from that, this recipe was perfect (and delicious!) and very satisfying.

Side Dish: Roasted Crops

RATING:

Difficulty: 5/5

Ingredients: 5/5

Immersion: 5/5

Time: 4/5

End Result: 5/5

TOTAL RATING: 24/25

This recipe is another one I wish I could rate absolutely perfect. It’s easy, the ingredients are easy to get but relatively uncommon in most dishes, and the end result tastes incredible! This recipe made me love carrots, and it resulted in me even agreeing to TRY beets, which is a huge feat. The only point it loses is that the cookbook drastically underestimates prep time for cutting and peeling the vegetables. Especially if you’re not used to handling beets, they’re messy and will definitely freak you out at least once when the juice gets on your hands. Honestly, though, this cookbook was worth buying JUST for this recipe. It’s a consistent hit with my family.

Tune in next Wednesday (6/12/24) for another fandom cookbook review!

[moon-mage]

heaves a heavy sigh because fucking crap I am in LOVE Okay so. This was not meant to even go this far but here I am. Absolutely far gone. My INITIAL plan was to try to come up with a big bad villain to write a TWST fanfic about because I love taking all my favorite characters...throwing them in hell...and then orchestrating the drama and chaos while going: "why would anyone do this to these poor innocent peoples?" and "hahaha this is SO fun their suffering fuels me!".

One of my all-time favorite movies growing up was Anastasia. The 1997 animated Don Bluth film. So, I was like "oh boy what if I did a twist on that version of Rasputin?" Which holds promise considering he is a powerful lich sorcerer coded in death, ghosts, limbo...all my favorite tropes that I cannot get enough of. But Rasputin aint shit without his sassy bat familiar, Bartok. Their dynamic is interesting considering Bartok spends the entire movie telling Rasputin to get a life and stop trying to kill Anastasia. So, I thought on twisted Bartok more and....it just...it hasn't stopped. It hasn't stopped.

Now we got Sashmir Magnifico. The twisted version of Bartok AND Anastasia. Originally, he was just going to be twisted Bartok, but I ended up adding in elements of Anastasia to him as well and I liked it.

Sashmir is a bat beastman and a lot of people assume he is an albino bat, but his lack of pigmentation is a side effect of his Unique Magic; "Together In Spirit". He doesn't go further into details about it other than 'the adults around him growing up were not knowledgeable of magic and forced him to use his magic for the benefit of others without thought of the consequences on him'. Only a few people know his UM and its capabilities, and he wants to keep it that way. The incantation for his UM is: "I am the key...that unlocks your potential...I promise we shall stay...TOGETHER IN SPIRIT." Sashmir is a 2nd year student at Night Raven College in Ignihyde dorm. He is interested in biology and the combined use of magic and science for enhancing and healing the human(oid) body and mind. He also has a passion for music, having learned how to play most instruments to a passable degree and he taught himself how to write sheet music. He does so with popular songs and makes them available to the public while recording himself playing them online. He loves teaching...and tutors for free on Monday and Wednesdays at 12AM in the Ignihyde dorm lounge. He had hoped to one day become a music teacher but decides the more practical route would be to continue magical medical sciences. He doesn't like shoes and has lost his shoes when taking them off and leaving them places. One of the first time of magics he had learned was levitating as it felt natural for him to not be on the ground all the time. Personality wise, he is rather chill and easy going. He speaks in a Romanian accent and isn't afraid to clap back with the sass or defend himself if challenged. Sadly, Sashmir is under the thumb of a powerful and dangerous sorcerer...and the days are numbered until his master makes his grand appearance and destroys the "peace" of NRC. All according to plan and...all that evil jazz. I have a LOT MORE THINGS TO SAY but I will make a post specifically for his info dump I guess. I'm sorry I love this boy... Also you see the candy and coffin...if you know...you know.

[bjornensuckler]

Obey me! Silly little headcannons

Nightbringer has made me so so so sad, so I'm making silly little headcannons for the original timeline to make me happier :,)

When Leviathan has to go to RAD, he spends most of his free time in the back corner of the library with Satan and reads Manga

When Solomon is very stressed or overworked, he likes to have green tea with honey (Sometimes Luke brings it to him if he stays in his room for too long)

Mammon does little dances with his hands when he's walking somewhere if there's no one around

Sometimes, when Lucifer is listening to his records, he imagines himself dancing with MC and ends up having to turn it off cause he's too distracted

Asmo listens to screamo when he's by himself (occasionally with MC)

When Beelzebub is watching a movie with MC, he'll hold their hand and encourage them to lean against him

Belphegor has Crossy road on his phone but gets unreasonably frustrated with it causing him to play it for around a week before ignoring it for months only to replay the cycle

Barbatos kisses MC's knuckles on both of their hands everytime he greets them

Diavolo will occasionally attempt to learn about devildom internet culture only to go to Barbatos and ask him what it all means

Siemon really enjoys drawing wand will sketch little birds in his note books

Luke has secret handshakes with Simeon and Solomon (wants to make one with Barbatos but is too scared to ask)

Mephistopheles frequently listens to Beyoncé and Lady Gaga

Once Thirteen had found out what crazy frog was, she played it on repeat to try and get Solomon to leave (It is still stuck in her head and she hums it a lot)

Raphael once got a mood ring as a present from Luke and would stare at it for hours out of confusion (He'd be like 'But I'm not angry?? What is this trickery??') It's in a locked draw now

The House of Lamentation has bi-weekly hot chocolate night where everyone sits in the living room together with hot chocolates (Satan does little designs for them, and purposefully messes up Lucifer's)

Purgatory House has movie night Fridays where any of Solomon's choices have to be checked first cause he keeps recommending horror movies

Diavolo wants to have weekly events like that but never has much time so he settles on bi-weekly wednesday tea times with Barbatos, MC , and occasionally Lucifer

MC has clothes, toothbrushes, etc, at both Purgatory house and the Demon Lord's Castle cause of how much they stay over

Oki Doki, that is it for now!! I think I'm finally gonna start posting stuff so hello everyone!! Can someone also please tell me how to do that 'under the cut' stuff?? I wanna make NSFW headcannons :(

[highqueenofelfhame]

rowaelin // 5.8k words // masterlist // ciwyw masterlist let me know if you want to be tagged in my writing :) i hope you enjoy <3 i can't wait to see all your comments. y'all are kILLING me with them on this one.

As much as he knew he shouldn’t be, Rowan was drunk. Again. 

Tomorrow they had a match against Adarlan on Doranelle’s home field. While Rowan laid on his back,  staring at the ceiling fan above him with a full half-empty bottle of whiskey resting on his stomach, he knew they were going to lose. Not because Adarlan was better or because they wanted it more, but because Rowan was a selfish piece of shit and couldn’t put the bottle down. There was no way he would be in any condition to play tomorrow— at least not well. 

Burying his sorrows at the bottom of the bottle seemed like the better alternative until he could figure out how to repair what he had catastrophically obliterated. It had been a full week with no word from Aelin. Not a single one of those days had passed without him sending an apology text into the void. There had even been a few voicemails Wednesday night that went unanswered. He wouldn’t be surprised if she was erasing them without bothering to listen. He deserved that much. 

Rowan Whitethorn had never had social media. Ever. Not even in high school when it was just becoming a cool thing to do. Nobody needed to know that much about his life. At this point in his career, his agent and PR team begged him to do it because it would garner him more popularity. Even Lorcan posted on instagram from time to time and kept everyone happy. 

The thing that finally drove Rowan to making an instagram account was stalking Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. It was easier for his thumbs to scroll through her feed while nursing sips of whiskey, trying not to double tap on any pictures. He was pathetic enough— Aelin didn’t need to be aware of his sulking and pining. 

This all came after he googled her name paired with various words like ‘spouse,’ ‘husband,’ ‘wife,’ and ‘wedding.’ Nothing came back with a result, but it had been lurking in his mind when she didn’t answer his question earlier. Besides, Rhoe Galathynius very well could have been her father-in-law. As it were, she wasn’t married, and Evalin and Rhoe only had one child: their daughter. At least if she was married, there was no record of it. No photos of her in an elegant white gown standing next to the love of her life. 

Good. He could deal with that. 

What he couldn’t deal with was the photos of her in bikinis, arms wrapped around the waists of other men. She was nestled between the pair on the deck of a yacht all three of them with wide smiles and sunglasses covering their eyes. Her bathing suit looked more like lingerie and Rowan had never wished so hard for summer to come back around than he was right then. 

There were pictures of her with a stunning brunette woman, both of them dressed in finery or night-out attire depending on where they were headed. Aelin with a full face of makeup, with sultry dark eyes and a full pouty lip was enough to drive him into madness. 

He found photographs from holidays with her family, Aelin perched on a couch in comfy clothes and thick socks with Aedion Ashryver standing behind her. Further down her page he found the ones from years ago of her on Aedion’s shoulders after he won some match or another. It was captions Always my hero. 

Lower and lower he went until he finally hit her first post: a simple kingsflame flower from nine years ago with the caption Fireheart. He supposed that was where she garnered the name for her foundation. Gods above, she was incredible. A super-hero amongst ordinary women. 

Rowan scrolled back towards the top of her instagram, all the way back to the most recent one. It was from their day downtown, when they had bought a piece of chocolate hazelnut cake and sat outside the bakery. Aelin was laughing around her thumb that she held between her teeth. At that moment, he had been teasing her about getting the frosting everywhere. Behind the camera he was smiling just as brilliantly as she was. The light in her eyes, her smile, the utter joy that radiated off of her… It was enough to make him breathless all over again. 

“Fuck,” he murmured to himself, heart squeezing and soul dying at how absurdly beautiful she was. It didn’t seem fair. Everything about her was perfect. Not just outside, but inside, too.  Aelin Galathynius was the most selfless and loving person he had ever met. Inside and out, she shone with the light of a thousand suns. It made it impossible to look away and broke his heart that he had driven her away so sharply.

“M’such a bloody dobber,” he mumbled, zooming in on her face as close as it would get, until she was little more than a monochromatic cluster of pixels, none of her features distinguishable. 

The phone fumbled where he held it over his face, falling directly onto it. Rowan swore, the taste of metal blooming over his tongue where his tooth had cut through his lip. Worse than that, though, was when he noticed the giant heart that appeared in the center of the picture he’d been staring at. 

Rowan had accidentally liked it. Just as quickly, he unliked it and tossed his phone to the other end of the couch. Jail. He needed to be in phone jail. 

It had over ten thousand likes and three hundred comments. There was a chance she would never notice the notification appearing and disappearing. She might never notice. It didn’t stop the ice creeping into his veins, though. The idea that she would realize how utterly pathetic he was, as if all the texts weren’t indication enough. 

Rowan swore violently under his breath and grabbed his phone again. With bleary, bloodshot eyes he opened their text thread to send off another message. Just as his fingers started their drunken dance over the letters once again, his phone began to ring loudly. The vibration shook him to his core as he beheld the name flashing on his screen, a photo of the two of them laying on her couch flashing in front of him. The sight of it knocked the wind out of him. 

Aelin. 

Fuck. Shit. Mala fucking fry him. 

“Hello?” he said, breathless like he’d been running a marathon. 

“Hi.” Aelin’s voice was quiet. Rowan could imagine her sitting in the middle of her couch, a tv show paused. 

“I am so sorry, baby,” he began, letters and syllables stringing together with no space between. “I need to explain, to—”

“Did you just like that picture on my instagram?”

“I…” it was long and drawn out as he squinted at the ceiling, trying to find a way out of it. There wasn’t one. Heat crept up his neck and bloomed over his cheeks like rose petals. “Ye-yeah. That was me.”

“Are you drunk?” was her follow up question. On the other end of the phone it sounded like she was rolling over in bed. Gods, he would love to be wrapped up in bed with her. The expanse of her golden skin under his hands wasn’t beat out by anything, not even football. 

“No,” was his quick response. 

“You sound drunk.” It was impossible to tell what, exactly, her emotions were. Rowan swallowed thickly, setting the bottle on the coffee table and nudging it out of reach. 

“I sound like a pathetic bastard that ruined something perfect.” 

“You’re definitely drunk.” If Rowan wasn’t positive that she hated him, he might mistake her tone as amusement. 

“I miss you. And I’m sorry,” he paused to hiccup, “And I want you to tell me what to do to fix what I’ve broken.” A heavy, resigned sigh came through the phone and Rowan froze.

“Start with sobering up–” Fuck. She was going to hang up, and he had blown his only chance at making things right. Shit.

“Don’t hang up,” Rowan pleaded, lip tucking between his bottom teeth while he waited for her to respond. 

“Get some sleep and win your game tomorrow. After that… maybe we can talk.” If that was what it took, then yes. A thousand times yes he would do both of those things. Anything to get her to talk to him, anything so he could hold her, feel her lips on his skin, taste her and feel her beneath him.

“Do you promise?” A schoolyard thing to say, but he couldn’t help it. The gift of hearing her voice again after an entire week of deafening silence was the most beautiful thing he could ever imagine hearing. If he could, he’d bottle it up and get drunk off it. It was better than any alcohol, any drug. 

“I promise,” she replied, and Rowan swore he heard a hint of laughter weaving between each letter of those two, simple words. That couldn’t be right, though. Aelin was mad at him. They wouldn’t be laughing together anytime soon.

“Okay.” It felt stupid to say, but it was the only word he could find. 

“Okay.” Aelin’s voice was still soft and told him nothing of the status of his forgiveness, or if he needed to beg on his knees and worship her as penance. He would never, ever stop if that was what she required. “Goodnight, Rowan.” 

The line went dead before he could say anything else and a new zap of determination electrified his blood. If she wanted a win, she would get it. But he had to get sober first. 

With a pained groan, he pulled himself upright. A few deep breaths later the room wasn’t spinning quite so quickly and he was able to stumble to the kitchen. The smell of coffee made his nose wrinkle when he opened the bag. It quickly filled the space of the kitchen as he dumped the beans into the grinder, wincing at the shriek it made. Coffee and bread would help sober him up, and then he would focus on fluid intake to not be a useless sack of meat on the field tomorrow. 

He leaned against his counter, ignoring incoming messages from his teammates checking on him, and shoved half a piece of bread into his mouth. A cold shower would wake him up, and tons of water and painkillers before bed would help the hangover tomorrow. 

Anything Aelin wanted, he would give her. Starting tomorrow night by defeating the Adarlan Wyverns and handing it to her on a silver platter. 

When he finally drifted off to sleep, his phone screen was still illuminated in his palm: that final photo he’d taken of her at the bakery wearing a smile just for him. 

~*~

As soon as she took one step into the Neon Moon, she found Connall looking over at her with a healthy dose of surprise in his eyes. Aelin moved through the crowd that had gathered to watch the game, managing to snag a single barstool in front of the beer tap. 

“Water, please,” she half-shouted over the loud voices filling the room. As soon as it was in her hands she took a long drink before placing it down on a napkin in front of her. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself.” A crooked grin spread across his face and he leaned forward on his forearms. “Watching the game?” 

“Against my better judgment,” she sighed, ruffling her fingers through her hair. Now that she knew that he played for Doranelle, she just couldn’t miss it. Had she known from the get-go, there wouldn’t have been a single game that she missed. Even if it meant she’d be catching up on work during the short commercial breaks. “How much do you know?”

“Oh just… everything.” 

Aelin groaned and looked up at the ceiling. She wasn’t upset that he’d told his friends, his support system. Rowan needed that, just like she did. Though she had yet to tell her family, she was going to do it soon. Maybe tomorrow or the day after. Some of the dust had to settle with Rowan first. 

Though she was content to let him stew for a few more days, the single like she’d gotten from an account called actuallywhitethorn made her pick up the phone. A result of her doom-scrolling before bed, the notification had dropped from the top of her screen. By the time she clicked her notification icon, that particular like from that specific account was gone. It was like fate, she decided, for her to have seen it in its brevity. If he was miserable and pining enough to accidentally like an instagram picture, it wouldn’t hurt to call him. So she did.

At first, she didn’t know what to say, but as he talked it became more and more clear that he was very drunk. All his words had melded into one long syllable, and the fact that he was likely drinking away his feelings and problems had tugged at her heart. He really was adorable when he was drunk, calling her baby and trying his hardest to apologize, begging her not to hang up the phone. As much as she really did want to talk to him, it wasn’t a conversation to have while he was only half-aware. The apology she deserved needed to come from his sober lips, not drunk, loose ones.

After they hung up, Aelin had decided she would go to the bar to watch the game. It didn’t seem like a feat she could conquer at home alone on her couch. Even with Lysandra a phone call away, it felt too big to do on her own. The bar made sense.

“Congratulations?” Connall offered, and it was the first time she’d really picked up on any shyness or hesitancy from the man. 

“Thank you.” It was still so new, so foreign. The racing of her thoughts hadn’t died down about it yet, her emotions didn’t have a full grasp on the situation. “How is he?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.” Kind of. If his texts were any inclination to his mental state, he was having a rough go of things at the moment. “Feels like a piece of shite.”

“Yeah, well.” That was a little deserved after what he’d said to her. Connall didn’t seem to disagree, merely shrugging as he followed her eyes to the television.

The game had been on for fifteen minutes, and Doranelle had scored one point. Adarlan had nothing. It was a bit of a feat to score so early on in the game, showing just how skilled Rowan and his teammates were. A camera zoomed in on the players, a towering, dark-haired man with a glove tucked under his arm, using the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face. Aelin’s eyes widened and her head whipped toward Connall when the spitting image of him appeared on the screen. The only difference was the color of the curls: Connall’s were black, his brother’s golden. 

“You have a twin?” By way of answer, Connall merely winked and nodded back at the TV where Rowan had come into view. His uniform for home games was navy blue with white letters. Hands braced on his hips, he joined his teammates where they talked. It was only when he turned around that she saw how horrible he looked. 

Though his skin was golden brown as ever, his face was ashen. Dark circles clung beneath his eyes and his bottom lip was swollen and scabbed over. The sweat gathering at his temples didn’t do anything at all to make him look well, if anything he just looked sicker. 

“Whitethorn looks a bit… peaky,” Connall said cautiously, the corners of his lips tugging downward into a scowl.

“As drunk as he was when I called him last night, that makes perfect sense.” She was frowning, too. The most put together part of him was his hair, the single french braid down the center until it all met in a mess of a bun on the top of his head. 

As soon as the whistle blew, he inhaled and exhaled a deep breath. That was when the cameras zoomed back out to take in the entire field, all the players getting into position. Aelin watched closely, one eye on the ball and the other always aware of where Rowan was in the frame.

For a while, it was a lot of passing back and forth, working up and down the field, the ball getting stolen one way or the other. Once, Adarlan got close to scoring but the goalie for Doranelle was quick to block it and pass it back down the field. Another of Rowan’s teammates was quick to get it back toward the Adarlan goal. It was passed back and forth between a few as they worked further and further down the pitch until a pass from Connall’s twin had the ball being juggled between Rowan’s feet.

Watching Rowan play brought back the old feelings she felt watching Aedion. Her competitive temper rose in her chest as he sprinted downfield with the ball between his feet. Somehow, he never tripped or stumbled. When he passed it off to a dark-haired man, Vaughan, Connall told her, it was with tricky footwork that he made look easy. Seconds later and a single pass back toward him, Rowan lunged from behind a crimson jersey. By some grace of the gods he managed to land the perfect kick that arched beautifully through the air. Adarlan’s goalie missed it by a fingertip.

The bar became deafening��� some of them rooting for Doranelle, others wanting them to lose for the sake of Varese’s team. On the TV, Rowan’s teammates pulled him off the ground and jostled him amongst them, Connall’s golden-haired brother smacking a kiss to Rowan’s sweaty forehead. 

If Aelin didn’t know any better, she would say his teammates were being a little more gentle with him than they might be otherwise. Rowan’s jaw remained clenched tightly, that muscle feathering as he nodded to the only person on the team that was taller than him where he stood down the field.

“Who is their goalie?”

“Lorcan Salvaterre. Team captain and one of Rowan’s closest friends. My twin’s name is Fenrys.” Aelin nodded and rested her chin on her hands as the next play started, polished blue nails digging into her palms. She knew of most of these names from Aedion’s soccer days and the afternoons at her parents house where her father prattled on about different team rosters.

The minutes ticked by, Rowan fiercely focused on the game. That look of sheer determination never left his eyes, even in the brief moments of reprieve he had to gather his wits. Whenever he could, Connall hovered near her for the moral support she’d come in search of. It meant more to her than she could ever put into words. Being in a new city, far away from her support system, with no one else to lean on? It was really nice to know he was there. Even if they barely knew each other. 

When Adarlan scored, Aelin had over half the pub groaned. The Doranelle players looked beyond pissed. Rowan and Lorcan shared matching expressions, both of their jaws grinding as they shook their heads before getting back into position. 

It led them into more volleying back and forth, the ball little more than a blur between feet. And then it was back in Rowan’s possession. It was like the wind sang for him, pushing him faster as he bolted down the field. Almost as soon as he made his goal, the one that would get them a point ahead though, a whistle blew and a yellow-checkered flag was waving. 

“Shit,” she murmured, closely eyeing the playback. It was a fair call, he had been offside. When the camera showed Rowan again though, he was pointed at the goal, mouth wrapping around words that looked a lot like fucking bullshit. The words weren’t more than a whisper as she said, “Rowan, you stupid idiot.”

Connall chuckled, despite the dire situation at hand. She knew he was only laughing at her, not his friend’s situation. Still, she wadded up a napkin and threw it at his head. It nailed him in the temple.

“It’s not funny,” she hissed, nibbling on the end of her straw, a sick feeling roiling in her gut.

The referee pulled a yellow card brandishing it in front of his face. A spark of anger flickered behind his eyes, mouth opening to spew something else when Fenrys grabbed him by the shoulders and made him turn away. Aelin exhaled a tight breath as Rowan shook his head on screen. Fenrys said something in Rowan’s ear and he nodded, lips thin in a stiff line.. It was enough to make him nod and hustle to his spot on the field, shaking his arms out when he came to a stop.  

Beneath the bar, Aelin’s legs were bouncing. Butterflies flitted their way through her insides enough that she braced her hands against her stomach as though it would calm them. It was impossible to look away as Adarlan took their free kick from the offside, launching the ball halfway down the field and into another frustrating back and forth between the two teams. 

This was always the part of the sport that Aelin hated. No, perhaps hated was too strong of a word. The build up always made her feel nauseous, waiting for one team to make one quick move to kick everyone into high gear to avoid a goal or make one. Being pregnant, it was worse. It felt as though her stomach was in the back of her throat.

Just before the end of the second half, disaster struck. Aelin saw it coming. She was pretty sure everyone watching at home or in the stands did, too. Connall swore filthily as Rowan ran for the ball and dove feet first to knock it away from Adarlan. Except in the process, his cleats clashed into the other player’s feet and they both went down in a heap on the field. 

“What the fuck did you say to him?” Connall asked over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off the screen as a ref jogged across the pitch. 

“I told him to win and maybe we would talk! I didn’t tell him to–” A yellow card appeared in the ref’s hand, followed by a red one and Aelin lost all of her words. Both were for Rowan. 

“I think he took that a little too do or die.” And so it seemed he had.

Distantly, she heard the announcer saying it was the first time he’d ever been red carded in his entire career. The patron’s of the bar murmured amongst themselves, many of them asking what the hell was wrong with Whitethorn tonight. 

The cameras zoomed in to where he walked off the field, sweat trickling down his face. Their coach followed him to the end of the field, the words he muttered only for Rowan to hear. Though he looked ready to hit anyone that was close enough, Rowan simply nodded. Fenrys caught his arm just before he walked off, mouth moving too quickly for Aelin to decipher. 

The last clear shot of him was walking into the tunnel and off the pitch, body rigid and muscles rippling while he pulled his jersey off his body. 

“I… I need to go,” Aelin said to Connall, who only nodded in response. She threw a few bills on the counter as a thank you and pushed her way out of the pub, walking as fast as her feet would carry her to her rental car down the street. 

~*~

Even though his team had another win under their belt by the time the game was over, it had been a fucking disaster. Rowan watched the second half on his phone from the comfort of his car after getting kicked out. 

It was the first time in his eleven year career he’d ever received two yellow cards, and consequently a red card, and been ejected from a game. All that anger and frustration from the week, from his hangover, had boiled to a head and exploded on the field. Next week he would have to sit out, too. 

Failing his teammates didn’t sit right with him. Lorcan was probably fuming and Rowan anticipated a less than friendly visit from him tomorrow. Coach Malakai was mad, too. The last thing he told Rowan was to get his shit together before practice on Monday. Only Fenrys, who never missed a chance to be a jokester about anything, had murmured words of encouragement before he left the field. 

By the time he pulled into his driveway, he was exhausted. His entire body ached from that last dive. There would definitely be bruises on his hips and thighs tomorrow from the way Ress Taylor landed on top of him. All he wanted to do was let his muscles thaw under a shower so hot it burned. A glass of whiskey would be great, too. Not that he deserved it after his performance on the pitch.

The game was… rough.The entire day was rough. From the time he’d woken up his mood had been in the pits of hell. Drunk Rowan hadn’t been able to piece together what Aelin said just before they hung up, but sober Rowan did as soon as his alarm sounded. 

Win your game tomorrow. 

Not win the game, like she used to say when she thought he was the coach. She didn’t ask him to wish the boys good luck like she had in the weeks prior. The words had changed. Win your game. The game he would be playing in, that belonged to him. She had given him a personal goal and though he helped his team achieve it, he still felt like he failed. Especially since he would have to sit out next week, too, because of the red card.

It had been stupid of him to think she wouldn’t find out the truth before he had the chance to tell her. Everything had just gone to such absolute shit before he had the chance. Rowan Whitethorn would be groveling at the feet of Aelin Galathynius for the duration of his life, and then some more after he crossed into whatever afterworld awaited him. 

The news of his career was just another lie he had to make right. All day it sat with him, festering like an open wound. It wasn’t that he suddenly felt bitter about his job. He didn’t. Rowan loved what he did, he loved the sport. It was his greatest passion and love in life. But Aelin deserved to hear about it from him. Not knowing how she found out only made it worse, until everything he felt was bleeding out into the astroturf beneath his feet and getting him thrown out of a game.

Upon pulling into his driveway, something white in front of his house caught his eye. His heart came to a stop as soon as his car did. Rowan didn’t even bother to pull into his garage, just parked beside the white SUV and stared at his porch. It felt like a fever dream, getting home from a hard game and seeing Aelin on his porch swing. The wind slowly moved her back and forth, but when she saw him step out of the car she stood, hands sliding into her back pockets. 

“I told you to win, not get a red card before the second half was up.” The lilting tone of her voice made his knees buckle. It forced him to gather himself before approaching, slowly walking up the stairs until he stood one below her.

“My mouth keeps getting me in trouble this week, it seems,” he said back, mouth completely dry. It was an effort to make his tongue form the words with his lips. “But it got you to my house, so I suppose there are worse things that could have happened.”

“Few things are worse than a red card.”

“Not talking to you might beat out all of them,” he said smoothly, fingers sliding along each of his keys until he found the one for his front door. He held it up between two fingers and Aelin nodded, stepping to the side and gesturing toward the door. 

She wore simple leggings and an oversized t-shirt, a pair of socks and slides on her feet. Though she wore no makeup and her hair was twisted half-hazardly onto the top of her head, she had never looked so beautiful. Lorcan would laugh himself hoarse if he heard the thoughts Rowan had about this woman, yet he didn’t care. Even in her most dressed down and casual state, she was breathtaking. 

He led her inside, locking the door behind them. It was late enough he assumed she would be staying for a while. Few people made a nearly two hour drive to turn around and leave upon arrival. Then again, he hadn’t seen last weekend going that way, either, and it’s exactly how that night ended.

“You played…”

“Shittily,” he offered, hanging his keys on a small hook by the front door.

“Brutally,” Aelin amended, slipping off her shoes and heading to the kitchen. Rowan watched as she grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and handed one off to him before heading for the couch. “Have you eaten?” 

“No. Have you?”

“Not since lunch.” Phone in hand, she curled up in the corner and pulled a blanket over her lap. “I doubt we have any notable options, but Taco Bell is open and is shockingly one of the few things not making me sick at the moment.”

Rowan watched her from where he stood in the center of the room. It didn’t feel real. None of today did, really. It could be the hangover talking, but the day felt like a horrible dream. He was scared to move, scared that if he sat on the couch with her that she would vanish into nothing and he would wake up alone in his bed. 

“Are you going to just stand there all night?” Her eyes didn’t leave her phone while presumably selecting everything she wanted to eat, eyes narrowing at the screen briefly in thought. A moment later she held it out for him. Rowan stared at her, heart thundering away in his chest. “Rowan.”

“Right. Thank you,” he murmured, taking the phone and trying not to acknowledge the rush he felt when his fingertips grazed her palm. Not big on fast food most of the time, it took him a little longer to pick his dinner. “What do I owe you?”

Aelin just snorted as she submitted the order, eyes rolling slightly before placing her phone face down on the couch next to her, head tilting as she said, “Come to think of it, maybe you do. I think your twenty dollar fast food order might do me in completely. I’ll have to take out a loan.” 

“I can Venmo it,” Rowan said dumbly, reaching for the phone in his back pocket.

“I don’t need your money any more than you need mine.” Once there might have been a teasing edge to her voice. Her delivery was much drier than he was used to from her. But there it was. That stupid thing he’d said before he could stop himself, the words that brought everything they were building crashing down.

“Sit,” she told him, patting the cushion next to her. Rowan was careful to leave plenty of space between them. There were definitely lines and boundaries now. The risk of getting ensnared in one was too great and he had a lot of apologies to make. With his arms elbows braced on his knees and hands clasped loosely between them, he stared at the floor. 

“You’re actually getting a pretty sweet deal.” Aelin sighed, shifting so she was facing him full on. His green eyes didn’t leave the rug. “According to google my net worth is two-and-a-half times what yours is. Isn’t that crazy?”

“I didn’t know,” he finally said. As much as he wanted to look at her, he couldn’t. He was a fucking coward. Guilt was a disgusting, oily thing crawling beneath his skin. It threatened to consume him whole even worse now that he was talking to her than it had the rest of the week. 

Aelin sighed again, finally pulling his attention to her face. She laid her head back against the sofa and a few tendrils of hair fell down to frame her face.  Rowan’s fingers curled into fists to fight the urge to sweep them behind her ear. She must have sensed it because she did it herself. The blue of her fingernails was the same blue as his jersey. Part of him wondered if it had been on purpose. 

“I think tonight we can call a truce.” Aelin seemed to notice his gaze on her fingers because she folded her arms over her chest, curling her hands so her blue nails were hidden. “We’ll eat, sleep, and then tomorrow… Tomorrow we’ll talk.”

“Okay,” he agreed. The word was falling off his tongue as soon as she finished speaking. Her cheeks seemed to twitch with amusement, and if he had reacted differently last week she would probably be smiling. 

“I am curious, though. Did you make an instagram for the sole purpose of stalking me?” 

Rowan cringed. His eyes squeezed shut, lips rolling between his teeth as he looked away. Beside him it sounded like Aelin laughing, though it was little more than puffs of air coming out of her nose. It would have been easy to go on the defensive, to add one more lie to their crumpled house of cards. Instead, he went with the truth.

“I missed you. I just wanted to see your face.” He looked back over at her then, but it was she who looked away now. Her eyes were glassy, the dim lighting making the unshed tears in her eyes sparkle. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

“It’s these fucking hormones.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand when he started to reach for her. It stung more than he would ever let on, but he retreated and dropped his hand into his lap while she used the collar of her shirt to dry her eyes. 

It was silent after that, the two of them alternating from staring at nothing to sneaking glances at the other. Rowan only knew because he caught her staring at him more than once when he thought he could take a second to drink her in. It was only when the doorbell finally rang and he stood that she said his name, stopping him when he was halfway to the front door. Turning to look at her, eyebrows raised in question, he watched her lick her lips. 

“I missed you, too.” It was barely a whisper, spoken so softly he might have dreamed it if he was any more tired. 

Still, it was enough to get him through the rest of their silent night. Enough that it didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would when he insisted she sleep in his bed without him. Enough to chase him with sweet dreams when he finally slipped into the guest room down the hall and tumbled into a deep sleep. 

@elentiyawhitethorn @autumnbabylon @fancysludgeshoelamp  @wordsafterhours @live-the-fangirl-life @the-hospitality-of-knives @tangledraysofsunshine @readandlisten @westofmoon @rowanaelinn  @morganofthewildfire @writtenonreceipts @feynightlight @emster1622-blog @scarblx @thefaetrove @loveyatopluto @actuallybarb @peppermint-fae @the-devils-own @scottmcgivemeacall @livingmylifeforme  @wordsafterhours @foreverfallingforthestars @llyncooljones @emily-gsh @loosesimplicity @emilyrose111294  @charlizeed @aelinchocolatelover @cretaceous-therapod @sayosdreams @fireheart-violet @the-regal-warrior @backtobl4ck @shyvioletcat @mariamuses

[loftec]

Weekly Wednesday Saturday tag

Thanks to my pals @the-rat-wins @deedala and @wehangout for the tag! I had to wait until I got home from a work trip to do this, so I wouldn't go insane trying to format this beast on my phone <3

Name: Lofty

Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego? (or you): Sweden

Ok, so this week we are going to snoop into your google search. Type in each phrase and tell us what the first suggestion is that google gives you!

What is the best way to… lose weight (not me.)

Where can I…watch (haha I ruined this one by accidentally googling "where can I watch" two seconds earlier because I thought it was part of the prompt)

How old is… Eminem (pfffh not me.)

How long does it take…to learn Japanese! (I don't think I've searched this because I know the answer (your whole life lol) but at least it's relevant to my interests).

How many… seconds in a day (interesting but not me.)

Who set the record for… the fastest time to reach one billion views on YouTube? (Extremely not me.)

When did… Russia invade Ukraine (...okay, also not me.)

What does it feel like to… be in love (actually not me.)

Can you… run it (What does this even mean? Not me.)

When you… say nothing at all (Not me, but now I've got this song stuck on my mind.)

Why do… es Sweden have so many islands? (Do we have an abnormal amount of islands? Not me.)

Is there a way… to save Karlach (whomst??? Oh, from the video games. Not me.)

How old do you have to be…to play fortnite (most definitely not me.)

Where do the… sturniolo triplets live (now you're just making things up, not me.)

What is the best time to… post on instagram (I might have searched this for work but not on this computer.)

And to finish us off…What comes up when you type in Shameless?Shameless cast (not me!) (Whenever I search Shameless things I always write [thing] shameless us, as in: "Ian Gallagher shameless us" when I need a reference image or something.)

Wow okay I think what I've learned today is that I never search things using standard question formats, so here are 10 random searches from my history, for free:

vermillion

off centre chau gif

is this a butterfly meme

sue charlton

Average temperature chicago september

farenheit to celcius

pysgod wibbly wobbly

running through a field

daffodils svenska

loftec cake potato

The few times I google as a question look more like this: WHY THE FUCK DOES IT SAY MY POST IS MADE WITH AI ON INSTAGRAM AND HOW DO I REMOVE IT?????? (recreation of a thing I actually googled yesterday) (answer was I probably accidentally ticked the AI box myself but also fuck off fuck off fuck off)

Not tagging anyone because it's Saturday, but also tagging anyone who wants to do this!

[keepmeinmind-01]

wip wednesday 23/10

hi everyone and hope you're having a good week! here are my lines for this week :D

from "all i need", for @wizisbored @stonemaskedtaliesin:

CW: mentions of period-typical racism

Newt had no grand theory, no hypothesis about the roles of creatures or wixen—he only wanted the public to be less afraid and more appreciative, with his academic works simple and illustrative, his books comprehensive and designed for a wider audience.  With every letter, he felt the doubt return. He dared not to ask Theseus, as much as he wanted to, because the Auror Office had been specifically barred from the intel of the Department of Mysteries, and he worried his brother’s head might find some irrecoverable chopping block. In strict confidence, Leta had told him to release a statement, if he so wanted, positioning himself against the magical scientists drawing on the growing trend of Muggle eugenics. Tina had gone a little pale and admitted that she’d never been allowed in any of New York’s resorts, because of her being Jewish.  That, at last, had made him want to release something. The Ministry had posted it for him in a copy of the Prophet; that same week, a Muggle police officer had stopped Theseus and Leta as they’d come out of a riverside restaurant; and new intelligence Albus had given about Grindelwald’s tactical propensities had averted another planned massacre. 

from "never love an anchor 1908 part 4" (which weirdly is part 5, great job me in doing my file names), for @aparticularbandit @oriharaizayadividesintoslytherin @tamsinswriting @lizhly @kallisto-k @enigma-the-mysterious @loyal-house-of-lupin:

CW: referenced infertility

"Well," she said finally, letting the diagnostic spell fade, "it's certainly an unusual curse. Dark magic, without question, but with an interesting temporal component. Were you planning on having children, Mr Scamander?" Theseus's throat tightened. He'd never really thought about it before—or rather, he had carefully avoided thinking about it, the way he avoided thinking about most futures that didn't involve the Ministry. "I suppose that's not relevant now," he said quietly. "Not necessarily. There are treatments we can try. A regimen of specialised potions might be able to counteract the worst effects, though I should warn you they're not pleasant, and success isn't guaranteed." She pulled a piece of parchment from her desk and began writing out instructions in a neat, cramped hand. "Three times daily, with meals. The side effects can be...significant. Nausea, fatigue, occasional magical instability. And even if the treatment is successful, there may be lasting effects we can't predict." Theseus took the prescription, folding it precisely along its creases. His hands didn't shake—he was proud of that—but he could feel the tremors building under his skin, like the precursor to an earthquake. "Thank you," he said, his voice steady. "About the records—" "They'll be sealed, of course. Patient confidentiality." She hesitated. "Though given the nature of the curse, and who cast it..."

from "kmim thesleta flashbacks" for @sourb0i @auburnlaughter @whimsicalmeerkat:

CW a fight in which someone throws a vase

He knew he should stop, knew he was only making things worse, but the words kept coming, propelled by exhaustion and lingering alcohol and the image of that little girl's body that wouldn't leave his mind. "You want to talk about draining? Try walking on eggshells every day, never knowing if you're going to get the woman I fell in love with or someone who looks at me like she's measuring the best place to stick the knife. You bottle everything up, push people away, test them until they break—" The crystal vase sailed past his head before he could finish, missing him by inches. It shattered against the wall in an explosion of glass and early spring daffodils, water running down the wallpaper. Leta stood with her arm still extended, chest heaving, her eyes wild both a mixture of fury and horror. Theseus didn't flinch. If anything, his racing pulse began to slow, settling into an eerily familiar calm. His body remembered old lessons: when things started breaking, it was time to be still. Stay quiet. Don't provoke. Weather the storm. "Are you going to hit me next?" he asked, his voice perfectly neutral. "Go ahead." Instead, she turned and fled the kitchen, leaving him standing amid the glittering shards of broken crystal. Theseus didn't move for a long time. The coffee percolator bubbled and hissed, filling the kitchen with its rich aroma. Water continued to drip down the wall, the daffodils lying broken and scattered across the floor. His mother had given them that vase as a housewarming gift, he remembered distantly. She'd been so pleased to see him settling down, building a proper home with someone. From somewhere upstairs came the sound of drawers being yanked open, things being thrown around. The familiar sounds of packing, of leaving. His feet felt rooted to the floor, even as part of him screamed to go after her, to fix this. But he'd learned that lesson too—sometimes chasing only made them run faster. The morning sunlight caught the broken glass, sending rainbow refractions dancing across the kitchen walls. Beautiful, in its way. Destructive things often were.

and as part of the 2-for-1, from "kmim celebration/sudan" for @sourb0i @auburnlaughter @whimsicalmeerkat:

Rocking back and forth on his heels, he examined the vast range of jars the others had produced and started selecting a few, trying to ignore how discombobulated the sight of his hands reaching out to touch something solid made him feel. Pickled fronds of green cabbage, sesame seeds and grated carrot, bamboo shoots and broccoli stems, and a promising looking pair of jars that contained cucumber and chillies respectively. Leta had loved spicy food; he’d adapted his childhood’s bland palate of basic meals and skipped dinners for her.  This he could do. Cooking had always been a straightforward task for him—following steps, achieving results.  "That large jar is pickled radishes," Newt said. "But the red one next to it is actually preserved specimens of a rather fascinating fungus that grows on the Qilins' preferred grazing grounds. Best not to mix those up." Tina, who had been reaching for the red jar, quickly withdrew her hand. She moved to the sink instead, accidentally knocking the tap and spraying water in several unexpected directions.

[daresplaining]

heya! getting myself back into daredevil after a few years and shotgunned everything post-waid in like, three nights. i am wildly interested in hearing your thoughts on, uh, everything, but anything in particular on goldy? it feels like such an asspull that never went anywhere.

Heya, I remember you, welcome back! (Three nights?! I salute you. ...Are you feeling okay?)

I think I can sum up my overall opinion by saying that I miss Waid's run. I was mostly so-so on Soule's run; here are some posts on elements of it that I really enjoyed, though: (Sam Chung, Muse, "Supreme", Echo's return, that Spider-Man team-up) and then one of many (many, many) posts about one of the best things I think Soule, or any other Daredevil writer, has ever done: "Double Vision": The (Re)birth of Mike Murdock.

Zdarsky's run was my least favorite Daredevil run to date, full stop. I have never had such a miserable time reading a DD comic (and it just kept going! Most runs I've disliked had the courtesy of being short). Here are a few posts about some of my major gripes (my initial reaction to volume 6, my feelings on volume 7 ("The Red Fist Saga"), my feelings on Zdarsky's handling of Elektra). Pretty much all of the posts about things I enjoyed in Zdarsky's run can be found in my modern Mike Murdock tag.

I'm reserving judgement on the current run. I have a lot of sympathy for Saladin Ahmed for having to work with what Zdarsky left him (he's done admirable work in trying to make Matt being a priest make sense), but it also means that key elements that I disliked in the previous run have carried over. I don't hate it so far, but I'm not enjoying it yet.

I honestly don't know what to make of Goldy. I found him such a frustrating-yet-uninteresting character that he left my head the moment I finished the story. For the record, the idea of introducing a new element that builds connections between previously unconnected bits of continuity is actually a concept that I find really cool, and that I think can be executed in powerful ways that invite compelling reexaminations of earlier stories. But I found "mwahaha, I actually caused every bad thing that's happened in your life in order to make you stronger" both unoriginal (is Zdarsky a Flash fan, I wonder?) and, in this case, an addition that actually sapped those previous tragic stories of some of their power. The idea of every bad thing that Matt has ever been through being artificially orchestrated by an outside force, rather than being a combination of bad luck, malicious antagonists, and his own trademark poor judgement, just fundamentally doesn't appeal to me. And then, yes, he just vanished. Maybe he'll reappear? Maybe not? I hope not. I don't know. Maybe another writer could do something interesting with him and with the idea he represents, but I'm not hugely invested in that happening.

In any case, it's great to have you back! I hope your experience of catching up was a mostly enjoyable one. The next issue of the current run is out this Wednesday (June 26).

[havecourage-darling]

Firsts: Sold-Out Concert // Eddie Munson

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Henderson!Reader

wc: 4.3 K

warnings: it's just poorly written smut, I'm sorry ahead of time, pls love me

A/N: Special shout out to Katie, who bullied me until I decided to post this. It hadn't originally made my firsts cut but she loved it enough to convince me to include it

masterlist || ao3 || firsts: meeting the family

“Congratulations boys, you officially sold-out Madison Square Garden.”

Fiona, Corroded Coffin’s manager, revealed two massive champagne bottles from behind her back and shrieked.

Chaos reigned.

For a moment, you didn’t know what to do. Skye, Gareth’s girlfriend, clutched your hand between hers so tightly you were sure she was trying to mold you two together.

“Holy shit,” she said over the boys’ screaming, “they did it, they did it!”

Steve, Jeff, and Dustin, both hugging and jumping on the couches in the recording studio, were the loudest of the group.

Fiona’s words finally sunk into your mind – the world around you going quiet as Skye jumped into Gareth’s arms and you felt Eddie take her place.

“Princess,” he breathed, eyes wide, looking a little dumbstruck.

Feeling bowled over still, you nodded dumbly. “Yeah, you did it.”

“We did it,” he repeated, sounding like an echo.

The both of you caught each other’s gazes and immediately grinned like lunatics. Without warning, his lips slammed into yours and your hands clutched at any part of him you could reach.

“You fucking did it, you did it!” You said between searing kisses. “Eddie!”

He panted against your neck, like he’d run a marathon, and before you could think of anything to say – a pillow smacked into the both of you.

Steve had his hands on his hips and Dustin had his arms crossed. “For the love of Christ, keep it in your pants.”

Annoyed, you shot them a withering glare. “I am congratulating him, you perv’!”

“Is that what the kids call it these days?” Robin asked, wiggling her brows.

Eddie huffed a laugh at that and you couldn’t help but smile. “I hate you all.”

“Even me?” Eddie asked, indignant.

You nodded. “You most of all,” you said, kissing the wrinkle on his nose. “Congratulations, I always knew you’d make it here.”

“And to think,” Jeff chuckled, eyes looking suspiciously wet, “it only took almost fifteen years.”

Knowing he’d meant it as a joke you laughed lightly almost on reflex, but then the words had sunken in.

fifteen years.

“I am so proud of you,” you said softly, the room quieting down with you. “All of you.”

Gareth, Jeff, and Liam smiled at you, looking like the emotional goofs you’d met at the theater room the day you’d gone to pick up your brother.

“I know I wasn’t there from the start, but I saw the early stuff,” your voice cracked a little and you blinked, slightly embarrassed, “and holy shit guys, you made it here.”

Jeff was the first one to stumble passed everyone and wrap you into a hug. “You weren’t there for the dumb early shit but you were there helping us unload and reload our equipment into Eddie’s shitty van for years. When it really counted.”

“Hey!” Eddie protested.

You smiled, wrapping your arms as tightly as you could around your friend. “Every Wednesday.”

Gareth laughed, joining you both in on the hug. “That bar really sucked,” he admitted, grunting when Liam slammed into you three.

“It had good fries,” Liam said.

“It did,” you laughed.

Jeff pulled back and looked around at the group of you. “It got better when you joined – Eddie got more annoying but-”

Eddie grunted. “I am right here!”

“-thanks. All of you, thank you.”

Trying to discretely wipe away a few tears, you stepped back so that the boys could have their moment. Steve and Robin came up to you. “I can’t believe you managed to fly in,” you said, nudging Robin. “Ms. World Traveler.”

“Hey,” she said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “when I moved, we promised to always be there for the big moments.”

Steve wrapped his around both of you. “Is Henderson calling us at four in the morning shrieking about sales considered a big moment?”

“It is because I had to find a flight back here within twelve hours,” Robin huffed, bumping him, “you try doing that while you’re at work. And, she isn’t Henderson anymore.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing that this would start their bickering all over again. It’d been barely three months since the wedding and Robin wasn’t letting it go.

“I’ve known them for two decades, she’ll always be Henderson to me,” Steve insisted, crossing his arms.

Eddie’s warm hand pulled you into his arms and you went willingly. “Are they arguing about your last name again?” He asked, chin hooking over your shoulder.

“They’ll argue about anything,” you said, placing your hands over his on your waist, eyes falling to the ring on your finger.

His huff of laughter hit your skin and you laughed when it tickled. “That’s true. Have you told them that you still haven’t technically changed it?”

“No,” you snorted, “it’s a lot of paper work okay? We’ve been busy.”

“Hey, I told you – I don’t care what your name is-”

“-so romantic-”

“-as long as you’ve got my ring on your finger,” he said, ignoring your quip, “besides, I’ve been yours for a long time.”

Fingers twining through his hair, you tugged lightly and smiled when his jaw twitched.

“Your brother is glaring at us,” he warned, fingers bruising at your hip.

“I am!” Dustin’s not so far off cry came from the left. “You two need an ice bucket!”

Laughing, you kissed his chin and turned back to referee Steve and Robin’s escalating fight. “He’s your brother too now,” you said. “Besides, him and the band have bigger problems than our PDA now.”

“Yeah?”

Rolling your eyes, you shot Dustin a look. “The goal was to get here – now you’ve actually got to plan the tour.”

Eddie and Dustin’s eyes widened.

“Shit.”

“I’m going to throw up,” Gareth said, palms on the desk in front of him, head hung between them.

Jeff clutched a trash can to his chest, as if daring him to take it from him. “Find your own bucket,” Jeff said, groaning.

Liam had a pair of headphones on, his eyes wide and frozen.

“I’m going to mess up, holy shit I think I forgot how to play the guitar,” Eddie muttered, his eyes wild. You pressed a palm between his shoulder blades as his breath started to come in pants.

“Eddie, you’ve known how to play the guitar since you were nine,” you said soothingly, “I think you’re more likely to forget me first.”

The line hit as intended because he swiveled his head towards you. “I’d never forget you. Never.” He smiled when he saw your grin, having caught on. “You’re seared onto my soul, Princess.”

You kissed his jaw and caught Dustin’s eye from across the room. He pointed to the guys, his wide stare saying: we have to do something about them. While you, Dustin, and Fiona had made sure their suite was set – you knew that if they juts sat around someone would definitely end up chucking up their lunch.

Glancing at the four of them, terrified, you nodded. Tour? He mouthed. You nodded again.

“Hey, guys,” you cleared your throat, “did you give the kids a tour of the place? There’s still like an hour to go and they haven’t seen anything!”

Max straightened and El looked around the room curiously. “Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, and Steve are taking a look through backstage, why don’t you show them too? I mean, it’s pretty cool. Dustin designed a bunch of pyrotechnics.”

Liam snapped out of his trance, as if reanimated into his body now that he had a purpose. “Oh, yeah, sure,” he said, wrapping an arm around Mike.

Gareth nodded, face still a little green. Jeff stood up and started towards the door. “Keep an eye on Will!” You said suddenly, eyes going towards the blushing adult. They were all almost practically adults, and absolutely able to take care of themselves, but you would always have a soft spot for him. The hand he dropped to your shoulder as he left told you that he knew. Everyone you both knew, and you meant everyone – you had to help an excited Joyce and mostly reluctant Hopper to the VIP section earlier - had flown in for this concert.

“You can join them,” Eddie said, hand rubbing down his face, “I’m going to stay here and panic until I pass out.”

Nodding, you bit back your laughter and tapped at your chin thoughtfully. “That seems like a really logical response, you should do that more often.”

Eddie wheezed, his breaths coming out faster. “I should hold conferences.”

After a few beats, Eddie’s breathing slowed and you rubbed a hand down his back. “Has anyone ever told you that you tend to be a bit of a drama queen?” You asked.

Eddie pretended to think about it as the room completely emptied out. “No, actually, I’ve been accredited for being very levelheaded during emergencies.”

Snorting, you leaned back into the couch and hummed. This was nowhere near Corroded Coffin’s first big concert – but it was their first time selling out a massive, iconic stadium. It was a first and you knew that despite the almost decade of performances, starting all the way back in The Hideout, nothing would shake the nerves out of Eddie.

Fiona was practically quadruple checking everything on her clipboard. When you’d arrived, at your scheduled ten minutes late time, she had literally checked you off her list.  

An idea struck you. “Would going over the set list and making sure all the equipment is ready to go again help you out?”

“Yes?” He said sheepishly, his nose scrunching like it did when he was embarrassed. You smiled at him and pulled him to his feet.

“Come on Mr. Munson,” you said, intertwining your fingers, “let’s go get our ducks in a row.”

You pushed open the door to the massive ensuite bathroom and blinked to see Eddie hadn’t moved from where you’d left him – on the chair by the sinks. Honestly, how fancy did an ensuite have to be that it had furniture in the bathroom? Even Eddie hadn’t gone that far when you’d bought your house together.

His leg was bouncing erratically, eyes screwed shut, and his fingers plucking at invisible strings. The soft spot in your heart with his name seared onto it melted at the sight of his anxiety. You’d spent an hour double checking his equipment before the sound of people chanting their names trickled into backstage and he’d rushed off to the bathroom, swearing he was going to be sick.

“Sweetheart,” you called out, “you’re going to drive yourself insane. It’s thirty minutes until you’re on, you’ve got this. Just think of it as another concert. You guys have done loads of those, this is just another one. You sold out in LA too!”

“I know,” he mumbled, eyes still tight around the corners.

“Eddie, I-”

His hand on your arm stopped you. “I know what you’re going to say.”

“You do?” You said, smiling at his animated expression.

“Yes. Eddie, you play really well, you’ve earned this, you guys have a growing fanbase, the debut album is on the top one hundred, I love you, you look like a god, and you’ve ruined me for any other guy,” he said, high pitched imitation of your voice. “That orgasm you gave me this morning was your best work.”

“First, I don’t sound like that.” You quirked a brow and he smiled, eyes sparkling and mischievous. “Second, you’re a menace to society.”

Eddie grinned at you, teasing like always, but an idea grew in your head. “But did I lie?” He asked.

You shook your head and reached into the waistband of your skirt. “I know this will be a big shock to you but, that’s actually not what I was going to say.”

Eddie smirked, eyes darting across your face, curious. “Was I close? I can keep guessing.”

“I have something that might keep you calm,” you said, the black lace spilling out of your hand. Eddie’s eyes dropped to your hand clenched around the scrap of fabric.

His brows disappeared into his hair and you smirked. “Is that…”

You leaned forward, grabbing his hand, and spoke lowly, “The black set that you love? Yeah.” Dropping the underwear into his open palm, you grinned at his dumbfounded look.

So, for the first time in the years since you’d been with him, you watched Eddie’s jaw go slack. After fighting demobats, Vecna, escaping the Upside Down, signing to a record label, a few national tours, you didn’t think you were capable of surprising him still. You were glad to see you still had some tricks up your sleeve.

“Did you – is that – holy shit,” Eddie stammered, “please tell me these are the ones that were on your body.”

“Took them off a few minutes ago in the hallway bathroom,” you said, lips trailing down his jaw. You felt his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Thought they’d be good luck for your concert. The same way my lipstick tends to be.”

Stunned into silence, you took advantage of the moment.

You made sure he watched you as you pulled a tube of lipstick from your bra out. His eyes followed your hands as you applied a fresh coat. Leaning over to kiss his neck once firmly, you used a nearby tissue to wipe off the excess from your lips.

“Like when I first watched you play at that club in college, with that girl who kept putting her hands on you,” Eddie grinned, pupils darkening, “I want all your new fans to know that while I’m willing to share - you’re mine. Okay?” Eddie’s expression morphed into a familiar one and you fought the urge to smile. It’d been years and you knew it still pushed all the right buttons when you told him that. Your hand curled around his neck, squeezing just a little in the way you knew drove him crazy.

“And I’m the menace?” Eddie breathed, eyes wild and hands tightening around you. “Holy shit, I can’t believe you just – I’m so turned on right now.”

“It’s a good thing we have about fifteen minutes before everyone probably piles back into the green room,” you whispered, walking back through the bathroom and locking the door. Sauntering over to him, you bit down on the other side of his neck and mouthed around the sensitive skin. Eddie twitched as his hands came down to your hips and he maneuvered you onto his lap. You squeaked as you helped him move you both into a comfortable position and laughed when you were level with his excited expression.

“You’re unbelievable,” he breathed, the excited familiar glint in his eye making your stomach flip.

Tapping your chin with your index finger, you pretended to look deep in thought. “You know, I like to say that to myself every morning so my sparkle doesn’t dull,” you quipped back.

Eddie threw his head back and laughed, the last remnants of his anxiety falling away. “Someone’s feeling sarcastic today,” he teased, tongue dragging across his bottom lip. You felt your blood simmer and experimentally ground down into his hips.

“It’s a side effect from being around you too long,” you said, determined to have the last word.

Grinning, Eddie looked ready with a rebuttal but you dropped your lips to his. Your restraint snapped at the same time because your hands immediately collided.

“Fuck,” Eddie mumbled as you sucked a hickey below the lipstick mark, your teeth nipping at his skin, “I love you so much, Peach, so much.”

Smiling, you lapped at the bruised skin almost in apology and startled when you felt his cool hand cup you beneath your skirt. Wasting no time, he took advantage at the lack of barriers and sunk his fingers into you.

“Eddie,” you said, panting a little as his fingers rubbed you in the right spot. “Eddie, there’s no time for us to-”

He tutted. “You can’t start something and not finish.”

Your breath hitched as his knees nudged your own further apart. “Eddie, anyone can walk into the green room and hear us,” you gasped as he brushed against the bundle of nerves. His wide grin told you he was enjoying this.

“Should’ve thought about that before you handed me your underwear, Princess. You know I can’t get enough of you as it is,” he said between open mouthed kisses to your neck.

Mind scrambled already, you panted. “We might not have enough time for the both of us,” you said, hand coming to stop his.

Eddie stilled, leaning back to look at your face. “We have time for you, I can tell,” he said, twitching against you. Trying not to smile, you knew you failed when he beamed at you.

This night wasn’t about you – it was about him. You knew he’d never it go, like a dog with a bone. Well, you could be stubborn too. “Both of us or nothing,” you said, eyes slanting and tone turning bossy.

He huffed. “Princess-”

Hand coming back up to his neck, you lifted yourself above him and pressed him into the velvety chair. “You’re not in charge here.”

The hardness beneath you grew steadily. Groaning, he dropped his head and pulled his hand back to your hip. “You’re killing me Peach, you’re killing me.”

You leaned over to grab at his wrist and smiled when you saw the time. “What I did was successfully distract you to showtime.”

“What?” Eddie said, checking the time himself. “You little enchantress.”

“You’re a little predictable,” you admitted, letting your arms rest around his neck. You dug one hand into his hair, raking your nails across his scalp softly while the other unbuckled Eddie’s pants and shoved his underwear down just far enough. He sprung out, searing hot and already leaking.  

Eddie grunted, hand stilling yours but you smacked it away. “Both of us or nothing Munson,” you said again, plucking a condom from your bra.

Pupils blown, he gaped. “Jesus, what else do you have in there?”

Laughing, you rolled it onto him and winked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” You both groaned when you seated yourself fully onto him. The angle and force were unforgiving, tears almost instantly gathering at the corner of your eyes.

“Holy shit,” you hissed, needing a second. It’d been a while since you’d both found yourselves both unable to keep your hands off each other and pressed for time. The sudden stretch ached a little but you could handle it. “Okay?” You asked him, already starting to lift yourself off him.

Eddie’s face was flushed bright red, his head thrown back, and hands clenched around your shirt. “Yeah, I’m perfect,” he croaked.

With a familiar urgency, you set an unrelenting pace and your skin smacked against his. The sound was lewd and loud but you couldn’t help and drown in it. It only took a few moments for your thighs to begin to shake and Eddie hauled you to your feet.

Whining at the loss of him, he maneuvered you against the sink, arms resting on the cold marble. Your eyes caught his in the mirror, his hair was wild from where you’d been clutching at it. “Be quiet for me, Princess,” he said, giving your ass a smack and laughing when you squeaked.

“I swear to God Eddie if you don’t-” you hissed the moment he slammed into you, both of you fumbling with the force. His hand settled on your hip and the other trailed down to the bundle of nerves between your legs. If you could think past the heat curling in your stomach and your racing pulse you would’ve remembered to be embarrassed at how rapidly you fell apart in his hands during a quickie.

Your head fell down to your arms, white flashing across your eyelids, your legs threatening to give out from under you as he kept thrusting into you. Oversensitive almost immediately, you needed him to join you. Trembling, you used the last of your energy to reach for him. Your hand tugged him to you, his hair tangled around your fingers. Biting down on his bottom lip, you swallowed his moan, pulled his curls a touch shy of painful, and felt his hips stumble. He stilled, his grip on your hip bruising and you both collapsed against the counter.

“Holy shit,” Eddie stammered, “I think I’m blind.”

Snorting, you swatted him and he weakly stumbled away. With shaking hands, you pulled your skirt back up and straightened your shirt. “I’m insulted,” you said, taking a few deep breaths as you got the feeling back in your feet. Shaking out your left leg, you fanned at your warm face.

“What?”

“That wasn’t even some of my best work,” you told him, smiling when he grinned. He jumped as he pulled his pants back up his legs and you did your best not to ogle him.

Not one to let it go unnoticed, Eddie smirked. “What? Ready for round two?”

Your laughter echoed as your breathe settled. “We don’t have time for round two,” you said, shoving at his shoulder. He settled into the chair and pulled you down with him. Steady in his lap again, you flicked his nose. “This is how round one started...fourteen minutes ago. Oh, new record for the both of us.”

“Is it?” He asked, pretending to look oblivious. “Huh, what a coincidence.”

Running a hand through his hair, you untangled a few pieces delicately and shook your head at him. “You’re relentless,” you said, “you’d think after this long you’d learn to exercise some restraint.”

“Who followed who into the bathroom?” Eddie’s brow quirked.

“True,” you said, “but you looked about two seconds from passing out. I had to do something.”

“A quickie was the solution?”

You grinned, shameless. “You seem much more relaxed,” you said with a shrug.

“I’d be even more relaxed if I could just, woops,” he said in faux worry, pulling your shirt’s strap out onto your shoulder. Your shirt was loose enough that the black lace was visible. “Ugh, I do love this set.” He leaned his cheek onto your breasts and you snorted.

“Would you like me to leave you three alone?”

“Honestly, I could die happy right here,” he said, licking a stripe up the lace, making sure to mouth at your nipple. The suction sent a shiver throughout your body and you scrambled to rein it in.

Pinching his side, Eddie yelped. “Behave,” you warned, already feeling the telltale sign of him gearing up for a second round beneath you.

Eddie nipped at your skin in retaliation and you squeaked, laughing when he had to dart forward to keep you from falling. At that moment, the door behind you opened. Steve’s face swam into your peripheral and he stood frozen for a beat before slamming the door shut.

“What the fuck?” You heard someone say through the door.

“Can you guys not keep it in your pants for any occasion?” Steve shouted; his voice muffled. “Have I need been tortured enough throughout the years?”

“What?” Someone shouted followed by a very Dustin sounding gagging noise.

“Get it, Munson!” Robin shouted, her laugh echoing.

Gareth’s voice thundered. “For the love of suffering Jesus, can you both get yourselves under control!”

Eddie grinned, giving the swell of your breast one last nip before helping you stand. You straightened your skirt and shot Eddie a look to behave. In response, he shoved your underwear into his back pocket and winked at you.

Casually opening the door, you grinned at your friends. “Managed to get him to calm down,” you joked, laughing when mostly everyone groaned.

“Get a room!” Steve muttered.

“Yeah, we had one,” Eddie said, coming up behind you. “Everyone okay?”

“Aside from adding another traumatic event to my pile?” Steve grunted, leaning against the far wall. “Peachy.”

Eddie snorted and you laughed. “Sorry Stevie,” you said, widening your eyes. “We were both fully clothed. To be fair, I did walk in on you and your exes like fifty times over the years because you have the inability to properly lock a room. So really, I’m just evening out the playing field.”

Steve’s jaw dropped in outrage and you watched as the group descended into familiar chaos. Eddie’s arm dropped around your shoulders and he pulled you into his chest. His heartbeat pulsed through you, strong and quick.

“Corroded Coffin?” One of the PAs called out. “Fiona says we need you by stage left in five.”

“They’ll be right there,” Nancy said when everyone froze.

Dustin was the first to move. “Shit, we gotta get good spots in the VIP section – I want to record some of it. Come on!” Most of the group called out encouragement, slapping the guys’ shoulders.

“Hey,” you said, before you extracted yourself from his arms, “you did it, sweetheart. You made it here. Just another little ol’ concert, okay?”

Eddie exhaled deeply and nodded.

“I love you, Mr. Munson.” you said, smacking his ass hard enough for him to stumble. “Kick ass and play like our lives depend on it.”

Laughing, Eddie shook his head and pressed one last kiss to your lips. “I love you too, Mrs. Munson,” he inhaled deeply and shook his head, “let’s start every concert off this way from now on, okay?” He grunted when you swatted at him.  

Fifteen minutes later, you watched as the crowd around you screamed once the first chords echoed throughout the stadium. A familiar voice greeted the crowd.

“Hello New York City! How are you all doing tonight?” Eddie grinned, his smile almost splitting his face in two.

Your heart sung as Eddie settled into his well-rehearsed spot. The lights dimmed and the crowd went eerily quiet. Breath caught in your lungs, you pressed your hands to your chest and hoped everything went according to plan.

Then, cutting through the darkness, Garret’s voice softly echoed.

“One, two, three, four!”

A/N2: I liiiiiiiiiive! So, in my defense, I got so sick (seriously, guys, I've never been this fkn sick in my entire life) and the holidays hit me like a truck. But, alas, I'm back! (kinda? lmao) Hope you guys had a great new year!

[suchagallabitch]

🫵weekly wednesday tag 🫵

omg I (simple old me?) have been bestowed upon the honour of coming up with these questions??? i would like to thank the academy for this most sacred honour 😋

1. if you could switch bodies with anybody for only one hour who would it be and what would you do? I think I gotta say taylor swift OBVI. first off im gonna dropping ME! acoustic version. Then I’m gonna hope lover deluxe is already recorded, drop that. If not i will make sure to text Jack and tell him that we need to record it so that i get it either way 😼. Then I would find out the definite truth of what happened between her and Karlie Kloss. I’d wire myself (as in me- me) a few million dollars, pet the cats and then post something really random on her instagram story. Literally want to make the public go absolutely bananas trying to figure out why taylor posted a random twitter meme. I have a lot of faith to believe this could all happen in an hour but I would try. SO hard.

2. whats your most trivial / dumbest hot take?I don’t think we should still be discovering animals. like what do you mean in the year of our lord 2023 we are STILL finding animals?? no they should all be discovered and if they havent been then i think they should stay undiscovered.

3. if you had to teach a college course what would it be in? I feel like we’re all expecting me to say something Taylor related but honestly I could teach a masterclass on the psychology of Ryan Murphy. I hate that man and i have so much to say about him and his productions

4. season 12 of shameless is suddenly happen and youve been put in charge! what plot point(s) are you gonna make happen? I cant think of anything substantial to actually contribute but i want Carl Gallagher to have a fruity little vape. I also want to see him quit the force and flourish in a new job!

5. who would be your godly parent? (can be any mythology). I’m gonna go with greeks as a Percy Jackson stan. I asked my bsf who is an expert in greek mythology. She said: “you’re a Aphrodite child cuz you’re a hopeless romantic and you appreciate beauty. You’re very particular in how you’re viewed and how everything you produce is viewed (what you write, how your feed looks like, etc.)” - I’m gonna have to agree with her on Aphrodite

6. what’s something you love about yourself? I think i’m so very very funny

7. describe your day in 5 emojis: 😴👁️👩‍💻��️☕️

8. what shameless character do you think you could beat in a fight? Realistically i think the ONLY person i could beat in a fight is Liam and honest to god im not even sure i could.

9. tell us 2 truths and a lie, we’ll try to guess the lie!

- I’m double jointed

- I sleep on the left side of the bed

- I’ve never had pumpkin pie

10. do you have a pet(s). if so how did they get their name? I do! my son (cat) is named Chidi after the good place!

11. show us a meme (or picture) that captures your essence

self explanatory.

12. whats your typical coffee / tea / beverage order? see i gotta have a special lil drinky drink everyday and i mean my little drinky drinks are free so i am likw 80% gingerbread chai at any given time. Alternatively, an iced chestnut praline latte w/ praline cold foam.

13. use a song to describe the last 5 years of your life?

2019- its nice to have a friend- taylor swift

2020- ribs - lorde

2021- nothing new - taylor swift

2022- first love / late spring- mitski OR orlando- leith ross

2023- true blue - boygenuis OR now that we don’t talk - taylor swift.

Thank you friends thats all i got :)

I Tag: @deedala @darlingian @michellemisfit @mybrainismelted @too-schoolforcool @gallawitchxx @gardenerian @sam-loves-seb @thisdivorce @xninetiestrendx @scarcrosseduntouched @juliakayyy @y0itsbri @grumble-fish @grumpymickmilk @transmickey @surviving-maybe @metalheadmickey @heymrspatel @auds-and-evens @deathclassic @flamingbluepanda @crossmydna @sleepyfacetoughguy @vintagelacerosette @depressedstressedlemonzest @thepupperino @squidyyy23 @energievie 🫶🫶

[talkintrashcann]

Wednesday characters playing Just Dance HCS

Summary: this is just a small post about how i think the wednesday characters would be at playing Just Dance

A/N: this one has been sitting in the drafts for a while now and figured now might be a good time to post since i have nothing else to release yet. thought of this while playing the new just dance game and wondered how the characters would play it, so i thought it would be fun to share my thoughts with you guys. feel free to give your own thoughts too, or request something <3

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Wednesday: There is no way she would willingly do this, there's only person that could possibly convince her to play just dance and that is Enid. She would not care about her score at all, nor would she even try following along with the little figurines in the corner of the screen. There would not he much energy, no emotion, not even a little sweaty either. I feel like she would somehow manage to get a great score without actually trying, and she would act like it was the easiest thing ever but not in a boasting manner. Would probably say that was pure torture afterwards, but we all know that's what she loves most.

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Enid: She's 100% the person that forced everyone to play the game, it also wouldn't surprise me if all the records were on her name as well considering she'd probably play this game so much. She would be so competitive with this, if anyone ever broke her record she would repeat that dance over and over until she had top score again. Girly gets superstar! and megastar!! on every single dance there is, probably having every move memorized including the extreme dances. Would definitely rub her win in everyone's face, doing a little happy dance too.

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Xavier: I don't think he would protest against playing the game, but he also wouldn't be the one to suggest it himself. It would mostly depend on his mood and who else would be playing, if it's with people he's close with i think he'd do it but if not there is no way you could convince him to join. This man has absolutely no control over his limbs and would look like an idiot, would also never be on beat either. He'd get angry about not getting a higher score since he's really competitive, but he's aware his talent lies elsewhere. Wouldn't stop him from trying again and again until he finally got more than 3 stars.

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Ajax: Im convinced he would ACE this, he definitely has a hidden dance talent that he was waiting for to show to everyone. Definitely playing this game with Enid every now and then, acting like he doesn't want to so she acts all cute trying to convince him and giving in at the end. He'd do that on purpose for sure, just so she would do that. And since she's so competitive he would make sure she always has a few more points than him.

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Tyler: I genuinely don't know how he would be at just dance, don't have very high expectations for this man though. He didn't even dance at the RaveN, like he just stood there staring at Wednesday without moving an inch of his body. So I don't expect him to dance anywhere else either. Would probably be there for the vibes, but wouldn't be the one dancing and stealing the show.

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Bianca: Would slay so hard, if there's someone breaking Enid's records it's definitely her. Would somehow manage to look cool doing every single dance, no matter how silly looking the choreo really is. Would have her own hype squad sitting in the couch, cheering for her on the sidelines. Queen B has never gotten a single 'X' on her screen for any move, and will never have one.

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Eugene: This dude is too precious for the world, he probably wouldn't have a clue about what's going on but he's just happy to be invited honestly. He's doing his best, but what's most important to him is just having fun. He doesn't really care about how many stars he gets or if he gets the top score, he would get average scores I think.

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Kent: Would give it his all, secretly loves playing this game but wouldn't admit it. Feel like this man would freestyle half the choreo, really putting in all his energy into the moves. Gets really excited for the 'yeah!'-moves, or any floor movements too.

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Yoko: She would do the bare minimum, couldn't be bothered to move her whole body just her right arm to get the point. Still getting lots of stars since she's only focusing on what will give her points instead of looking at the other movements too. Does she look like a badass though? Oh, absolutely.

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Divina: Would find it so unfair that Yoko isn't even trying her best, getting frustrated because she's getting more points than her. I think she would be a little competitive as well, but wouldn't rage out like some of the other do. Would mostly just enjoy having fun with her friends, laughing the entire time at how some of them really can't dance.

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Rowan: Don't think he'd play for long to be honest, he would try to join a couple dances but would eventually sit back on the couch looking at the others dancing. He doesn't really look like the dancer type, feel like he would be kinda shy to dance around others, feels unnatural for him to dance in the first place.

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