#mazel tov 😂

[number-one-shadisper-shipper]

I need Knuckles Wachowski to start throwing Yiddish slang around because of all the time he hangs out with Wade's family.

Like, he already used "schmuck" in the series. I need him to randomly use "chutzpah" and "mensch" and "mazel tov" and especially "oy vey" in front of the other Wachowskis and see their reactions 😂😂😂

[shrinkthisviolet]

I saw someone pose the question as to why there are at least two instances of Barry (in the CW show) being told “Mazel tov” (by Snart and Cisco), wondering if this is because he’s Jewish or just because it’s a common phrase.

It’s an interesting question, but imo it’s probably the latter. He seems to be Christian—he celebrates Christmas regularly*, and he and Iris marry in a church. I’m not sure if he’s Jewish in the comics (I know he is in the DCEU, but idk if that would’ve really had influence on this)—if he is, maybe the line was a nod to that? But I doubt it, bc they would’ve made it more clear in the show that he’s Jewish if they were indeed taking that into account. But it’s a strange turn of phrase to use, because to my knowledge, it’s much more common in Jewish communities than non-Jewish 😅

*as a sidenote, there are probably some religious non-Christians who do celebrate the “commercial side of Christmas”, but in my experience (and what I’ve heard other religious non-Christians say), this is not common. Mostly because the “commercial side of Christmas” isn’t really a thing 😂 it’s all part and parcel of celebrating Christmas—you celebrate one part, you’re celebrating that holiday.

[torchflies]

She Loves Them; Girl!Slider, Jewish!Slider

Something that's been kicking around in my drafts and listening to TTPD brought it back out 😂

Slider does anything she can for the boys she loves.

—

Ronnie Kerner never expected to be a blushing bride. 

But she never expected to be sitting in the middle of her childhood bedroom crying either, sitting cross-legged in her wedding gown, in a puddle of tulle and taffeta. 

She scrubs at her face with a handful of wet wipes, knowing she’ll need to redo her makeup before the ceremony begins — she can't let Tommy down. 

She's never been able to let him down, not then as her seven-year-old butterball of a best-friend with bruises and hurts that she could never hope to heal and not now as her pilot, her oldest friend, the man she lov — no. She can't, she can't say that. She can't.

Ice loves her, she knows he does. He loves her like a sister, like his RIO, his best-friend, like a body in his bed; a poor compromise for the one he really wants to hold.

She's never been able to deny him anything. 

Now, in a few hours, she’ll be his wife, his forever cover story, his canopy of protection so that he can be with the man he loves. She’ll be his wife to keep him safe, to make their families happy, to give him the children he wants. 

She loves Tom. She loves him in every way someone can love. How was she supposed to say no when he asked her? 

“It's just until you find someone,” Ice said that first night, his head tucked against her shoulder the way he's always done, “When you want the divorce, just say when and it’ll be done, Ron. I promise.”

It's only ever been you, she didn't say.

“I'm happy you found someone, Tommy.” She said instead, socking him in the gut to make him cough and laugh. “Even if it is Mav.”

She fixes her makeup with a small, handheld compact mirror and is perfectly presentable by the time her father, Ice and his parents appear at her door. They do things a bit out of order, having already signed the ketubah the day before, so she simply holds out her veil for the bedeken. The lace is delicate but thick and layered, designed to obscure her entire face as tradition dictates. Ice lays the tiara on her waterfall of red-brown curls and tucks the veil over her face, hiding her amongst the white blooms. 

The Bible says that Jacob was tricked into marrying the wrong woman because she was already veiled, so the groom must do the veiling — to be sure that he's marrying the right person. 

“Thank you.” Ice breathes, barely a whisper and she nearly shudders at the sound. 

This is wrong. 

I'm Leah, aren't I? 

Tom goes first, led out of her room and down the stairs to where the chuppah has been erected in their backyard. He is led arm-in-arm by his cold Admiral father — the man Ronnie has hated with a passion since the day she was old enough to understand the reason why her best-friend was always beaten black and blue and jumped at the slightest of sounds — and his soft-spoken doormat of a mother. Ronnie is led next, by her father, the Rabbi. He holds her tightly so she doesn't fall, whispering how proud he is. She just fights back another wave of tears. 

She joins the man she loves under the chuppah, circles him seven times for the home they're going to build together and she smiles in front of their family and the men they fly with, those who have become their brothers in all but name. They are the only ones who know the truth, well, not her truth but Ice’s. 

Hollywood’s shout of mazel tov! is the loudest and a beat behind everyone else’s. Sunny and Chip nearly throw Tommy off his chair during the Hora to a chorus of whoops and Mav’s abject horror.

While Wolf steals her away for a dance that leaves her laughing and smiling genuinely for the first time all night. “Are you okay?” He whispers, the moment they get close enough. She debates what to say for several more steps, so long that he prods her with a soft, “Sli?”

She eventually brushes his concerns away with a smile composed of more broken glass than their future mezuzah will be, “I’m fine, Wolfie.” His own smile wavers, like he doesn't believe her. But she's swept away before he can say anything else. 

Eventually, she bumps into Maverick. 

Maverick Mitchell himself, the jumped-up little idiot who stole her pilot’s heart and ran away with it. At least he always comes back — with Tom’s heart at least, she has no idea what Mav has done to her own. 

“Don’t you look lovely, Sli!” He teases and she whips off a heel to mime bludgeoning him with it. 

He’s too used to her to be scared though, just holds his nose with a grin. “Geez, put that back on before you stink up the joint.” He tacks on nasally and she rolls her eyes. 

Before she can be tugged away, back into the fray, he presses a Budweiser into her hand. She looks from the closed top and down to her fluffy wedding dress in one swift motion that has him snatching the bottle back with a scoff and popping it open on those ridiculous rabbit teeth of his. 

“Here then, Mrs. Kazansky.” He snaps, with enough venom to surprise them both. “I didn’t… I’m sorry, Sli. I know this is helping, I’m just…” 

She nudges his shoulder with the bottle, he’s wearing his bomber jacket over his khakis. It’s ridiculously out of regs, but he looks adorable. “It’s okay, Maverick.” She sighs, gentle and fond. “I get it.”

She doesn't take a sip though, she can't. 

She presses the bottle back into his hands. 

He looks down at the bottle, then at her, then lower and goes pale. 

She squeezes his hand, “It's a commandment, you know, for us to be fruitful and multiply.” 

“Veronica, I —” She shakes her head, cutting him off. It's strange to hear him call her Veronica. No one calls her Veronica. 

“I hope you have a good night, Mav. Caspian Hotel, down the strip, your room is 228, if he hasn't told you yet. Enjoy your night.” She whispers, a parting gift, before she holds her head up high and disappears into the crowd of her own wedding party, wondering how it is that she’s managed to have her heart broken twice in one evening. 

[hawkins-batman]

not you getting harassed by that "im not arguing with a zionist" asshole haha you really are an honorary jumblr member now mazel tov! 🎉 (this person harasses almost every jumblr post even posts that have nothing to do with israel)

What’s funny about that loser is that they started to harass me, saying they had more patience than I did and could force me to block them by spamming me.

I refused to let them speak on my post calling them out, since they were being belligerent and antisemitic. Kept deleting their replies, etc.

As it turns out — they were NOT more patient than me because I made them rage quit and block me 😂

I hope they’re having a terrible weak ✌🏻

[bluemoonperegrine]

The next Adventure in Doofery: Iron Man

So @onbearfeet and I were chatting, and I mentioned that the Hallmark by Knight universe is pretty much the MCU Lite. It's modified however @vicarious-rebel and I feel like it. The emphasis is on staying silly while allowing for angst.

When the series starts, the X-Men and Iron Man are common knowledge. So why not have the Moon Doofs encounter them in a battle?

As much as I love the X-Men, I'm not a superfan and don't want to get bogged down in a one-shot with a ton of characters. That leaves everyone's favorite playboy billionaire trying to atone for past sins: Tony Stark.

Here's Kat and me goofing on it. My text is blue, hers black.

I should write a one-shot where MK and "White Wolf" (Jack in a balaclava) encounter Iron Man in a battle. I've never written Tony before. I guess he'd be impressed by MK (but not express it) and not impressed by Jack.

Not long after the battle Tony bumps into at least Jack, who's wearing the same exact clothes but no balaclava and is like, "We meet again, Señor Wolf" [or something appropriately snarky that works with whatever happened in the battle].

Jack tries to play dumb and fails miserably. Marc catches up with him and his cover is blown.

Tony (thinking): The kid [Peter] is better at secret identities than these numbnuts.

Tony: Okay, Jack? Pro tip. Don't call your bebé "bebé" in the middle of a battle with civilians around.

Marc: I keep telling him!

Jack: I'm sorry! It's habit.

...omg. Jack is Marc's JARVIS

😂 😂 😂 😂 😂 😂 😂 That's... so unfortunate

and adorable

Tony hands Marc a pair of encrypted coms so at least they're not being mushy over an open channel, jfc.

🤣 I'm dying

Marc: You could tell we're, um, together?

Tony: Kid, everyone in a ten-block radius can tell. It's fine. Ride off into the sunset, mazel tov, whatever. Just use these encrypted coms so I don't vomit all over JARVIS listening to you two.

Jack: Is Jarvis your partner?

Tony: Of course not. I built him.

Marc and Jack: *visible confusion*

[mothmans-left-buttcheek]

This fic is just a treat, I’m dropping my in-time-reactions to it just cause I had a great time reading it😂

“His stride was casual as one could be, whilst battling both midwestern humidity and pit sweat in a white hand-me-down Jimi Hendrix shirt and sleeveless denim vest.” Oh my god… oh, my god.

“until one day your mother caught him by the ear and brought him in to mend his tattered jeans and offer up a hot meal.” HAHAHAHAHAHA!! Go mom!

“and making Stanley Kubrick films your new big boy personalities.” And some people never grow out of it oh my fucking god, on a personal note I went to film school and the film bro stereotype is so real. Now in this fic the reader is fem and there really isn’t a stereotype for women in film to fit into, so there’s hope that she’ll recover and allow Stanley Kubrick to be one of her interests and not her whole personality when she grows up😂

“You had wanted to write about Caligula so you could use the word ‘orgy’ in the report without getting in trouble” oh no

“but Eddie had insisted he had a better idea when he discovered a two years tumultuous ruling of brothers from 209 AD to 211 AD.” Oh no

“Also, here’s a better word for you to learn: fratricide.” OH NO

“Yes! Or the syph!” DOES SHE MEAN SYPHILIS??? WHERE WOULD A MIDDLE SCHOOL BOY GET SYPHILIS FROM????

“The kiss with Cindy was real, unfortunately. It happened way before Cindy was kept home with mono, and you remembered the incident well.” So then where did Cindy get mono that lying little eleven year old bitch???

“and that pretty soon he’d be popping girl’s cherries left and right.” BRO DOESNT GET LAID TILL HIS (first) SENIOR YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL PLEASE SOMEONE BRING THIS BABY BOYS HOPES DOWN BEFORE HE GETS LOST IN THE STRATOSPHERE

“Yet Cindy and Tommy Hagan swapped spit once, and both were out of commission.” SHUT THE FUCK UP TOMMY HAGAN??? That ass kisser the plot completely forgot about by season three??? Yeah of course he’d get mono in middle school that fucking cuck

“But no one would ever say anything about Tommy Hagan getting mono.” I WOULD!! SHIT I WILL, LEMME PICK ON A MIDDLE SCHOOLER PLEASE

“In a world of traitors— where brothers stabbed brothers in the arms of their mothers, or where violent men disowned each other with drug laced milk bottles to the face, you would always pick instead to be Eddie Munson’s loyal droog.” Okay that went hard af

“I HAVE SHARED OF THE COOTIE WITH A WOMAN-” KANGKANDISJDJDJ

“GOD SANCTIONED DROOG MARRIAGE CO-RULER ULTRA-VIOLENCE! MAZEL TOV!” L’chaim!!

“THE IMPERIAL HUSBAND NOW DEMANDS TO KISS THE DROOG BRIDE!” Eddie screamed, “PLANT ONE ON ME, GODDESS DIVINE OF THE REPUBLIC OF HAWKINS!!” No way, wait, you’re lying

“… when— without warning— you took off towards Eddie, and planted a fat wet kiss on his mouth. He froze for a moment, but returned the kiss with fervor, making an obnoxious hum and wet smack when you pulled away.” Oh my god kids are so gross😂 (this is a really cute moment though)

“Chessie had long since taken off for the gated community of Loch Nora on her bike.” I KNOW THATS RIGHT

“Hey… Only the best and finest gems and refreshments for Empress Droog the First of Hawkins, Indiana.” Eddie said with a confident smile.” Oh my lord I just know that’s gonna stick around till their married and own a house

Who knew a film about freewill, conditioning, and the conscious choices between good or evil could elicit such a sweet romance? It’s so innocent and wholesome, while taking inspiration from a film that’s anything but. But isn’t that just like Eddie and an MC who takes after him? Enjoying dark and taboo subjects while still being pleasant🖤

Be My Wife: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: A “friend” freaks out when you split a Coke with Eddie the Freak.

Warnings: references to A Clockwork Orange, bullying, STI/STD mention, backwash drinking

A/N: So… I know this isn’t a Christmas fic. But I wrote this because I had those times in my youth where someone spread horrid rumors about either me or my friends, and I had to make those split second decisions to determine my loyalty. I always try to be loyal as best I can.

Thank you to @writhingg for giving the green light on this fic. And big thanks to @rxqueenotd and @melodymunson as well. And big thanks to viewers like you. Thank you. ❤️

Resources: @strangergraphics-archive for the dividers.

Taglist: @ali-r3n @melodymunson @twihard28

“Hey droogie, can I have a sip of your Coke?”

You looked up from where you were perched on the pony wall by the Seven Eleven bike rack. You had been chatting with a classmate, Chessie Hagar, about purchasing a purse from her mother’s Avon Colorworks catalog. It was a new collection for the year 1977. Said eye catching magazine with its spread of rainbow themed products was currently held between the two of you, and the pages began to rattle as Chessie shook in fear upon hearing the deep voice.

A flutter-smack sounded from the girl dropping the catalog when Eddie The Freak approached. His stride was casual as one could be, whilst battling both midwestern humidity and pit sweat in a white hand-me-down Jimi Hendrix shirt and sleeveless denim vest. As one of the middle schoolers who had been blessed with a growth spurt, his lanky height, shredded second hand clothes, and shaved head often made those in your grade— and some of those above— piss their pants.

You alone did not fear him.

The Fates had elected to weave you both in a tangled web of coincidences: you had been his project partner in every shared class since you started at Hawkins Middle School together, and you just so happened to live in the same neighborhood on occasion. The distance from Al Munson’s janky two bedroom home to yours was but a hop skip and a jump. Eddie used to ding dong ditch your house when he was six, until one day your mother caught him by the ear and brought him in to mend his tattered jeans and offer up a hot meal.

To any other rando, he was an unstable pariah. But to you, he was just Eddie Munson— the cute boy next door who sometimes ate at your place. And you had become his droog after spending winter 1972 sneaking into the Hawk Theater, and making Stanley Kubrick films your new big boy personalities.

Without thinking, you handed the soft drink over. His fingers brushed against yours as he took the Coke out of your grip and went for a swig, with plush pink lips wrapping around the transparent jade glass of the lip and neck. His protruding Adam’s apple was bobbing with the rhythmic gulping, and you couldn’t stop staring.

“Thanks.” He belched out.

“You said a sip, not half the goddamn bottle!” You whined.

Eddie grinned sheepishly and backwashed a good mouthful. Giving a half assed apology and a promise to pay you back mumbled under his breath, he handed the bottle back.

“Still up for doing last minute project prep?” You asked, swirling the leftovers he’d saved for you.

“Nah, let’s take a break from the train wreck brothers. Catch you tomorrow, though?” He said, scratching a blackhead off his nose and snorting a bit, “I had an idea for the oral report that might earn us a little extra credit. Think you can mimic a British accent?”

“Eh. Can’t do an accent without sounding like fucking Alex DeLarge.” You groused.

“We can work on that. Leave your milk-plus at home, though. Don’t want me own droog reenacting some Roman ultra violence on me.”

“Just don’t go popping out from behind your curtains at me again, that’s a good way to get stabbed in the neck with my mom’s kitchen scissors.” You snorted.

“Ahhh, the droog’s no fun. I guess I can tone down the surprise pop ups, though. If you insist. Catch you later?” Eddie said, waving.

“Later. Peace out, man.”

Chessie let out a shaky, sobbing exhale when you made to drink the dregs of your soda, and you turned and raised an eyebrow.

“Whassamatter?” You asked.

“Are you nuts?! You just shared your drink with the freak!” She blurted out.

… since when the hell was sharing with Eddie a crime?

“Yeah, so? It’s hot out. He looked thirsty.” You said.

“Did you seriously forget everything we’ve heard about him?!” She whisper-screamed, “Don’t you care what everyone talks about?!”

You rolled your eyes. Everyone talked about Eddie. If you hadn’t heard at least one rumor from a faceless student whenever he walked by, you were either stupid or living under a rock. They said he was a bad boy— yes, even with a full vocabulary of slurs and insults available, they still called him a bad boy. Like if he was still in diapers drawing with crayon on the wall, and needed a spanking.

Depending on who you asked, Eddie either did or sold drugs, it was never clear which. Some of the other trailer park kids said he was a mean scrapper when he went to his uncle’s on alternate weeks. Women’s restroom lore stated that he carried a switchblade in the back pocket of his Wrangler jeans, and that he used it to torture animals for his Satanic rituals.

A million and one things were said about him on the daily, but you knew none of them were true in the slightest. None of the talk deterred you from spending time with him. Sometimes he came to your house, more often than not you went to his.

Every other day found the two of you parked in front of his mom’s turntable, jamming to Deep Purple and putting together an elaborate poster board with some spray painted fake leaves made into laurel crowns, along with a block of text about your chosen co-emperor of the early Roman Empire.

You had wanted to write about Caligula so you could use the word ‘orgy’ in the report without getting in trouble, but Eddie had insisted he had a better idea when he discovered a two years tumultuous ruling of brothers from 209 AD to 211 AD.

“As much as I love a good sex party on paper, you just know that’s what everyone else is gonna write about. Let’s write about this nut job Caracalla instead! Dude killed his brother in the arms of his mother, and struck his name from the record. That’s like, the most metal shit ever! Also, here’s a better word for you to learn: fratricide. Apparently there’s a whole list of technical terms for when you kill a family member.”

“… what’s the rumor mill gotta do with my Coke?” You deadpanned.

“If you drink after him, you’re gonna get mono like Cindy! You gotta throw it out!”

Cindy Bishop in your science class had told everyone that had functional ears— swearing up and down on her life— that Eddie Munson had kissed her and given her mononucleosis. A dreaded affliction whose nickname to you sounded like one of the variations of sound formats for any sort of audio.

“Mono…?”

“Yes! Or the syph!”

You knew Eddie had to have heard Chessie’s vitriol. Turning around, you could see him staring at the two of you from across the parking lot, one leg over his bike. There was a stinging look of betrayal on his face. Telltale signs of a wet cherry nose and shameful red cheeks gave away his mistrust; as if he was expecting you to do as your friend told, and throw the bottle he drank from in the trash.

His imaginary affliction was just that: imaginary. You knew that to be gospel.

The kiss with Cindy was real, unfortunately. It happened way before Cindy was kept home with mono, and you remembered the incident well. Eddie had come running to your house just to brag that he’d finally gotten his first kiss, and that pretty soon he’d be popping girl’s cherries left and right.

Just learning about the simple kiss had pissed you off, because the closest you’d ever gotten to kissing Eddie was sharing the same fork whenever you both roasted Vienna sausages on the gas burner in his kitchen. Eddie hadn’t been sick when Cindy stayed home, he came faithfully to school to trap you on the playground and speculate about the thousand and one hidden meanings behind the kiss.

With all the excitement, he never noticed the smallest details like you did. One of the guys in your PE class had been sent home with a rash and a high fever, and it was only a month after Cindy was rumored to have also kissed the collapsed boy that she got sick. You had always shared cups, utensils, and other things requiring mouth use with Eddie and had been fine. Yet Cindy and Tommy Hagan swapped spit once, and both were out of commission.

But no one would ever say anything about Tommy Hagan getting mono. They’d always redirect every disease outbreak to the poor loser who split time between Cherry Street and Forest Hills Trailer Park. The same poor loser who had the misfortune of wasting his first kiss with Cindy; a girl who frenched behind the portable classrooms with anything that had a pulse. People could be so blind and stupid, they failed to notice the sickness timelines were not matching up.

No one deserved their first anything to be with Cindy. Not with the way she stabbed people in the back.

You took a long, hard pause as you stared into Eddie’s wet brown eyes. He was asking you a silent question you already knew the answer to: were you a stinking traitorous droog, or a loyal one? Were you, his one friend in the entire world, going to stand against him?

Without saying a word, you looked at Chessie, then looked back again at Eddie.

In a world of traitors— where brothers stabbed brothers in the arms of their mothers, or where violent men disowned each other with drug laced milk bottles to the face, you would always pick instead to be Eddie Munson’s loyal droog.

You lathed at the lip of the bottle and stuck your tongue down the neck, and shotgunned all of Eddie’s backwash.

Chessie’s mouth dropped open as she began to gag, and Eddie opened his mouth in an obnoxious and breathless laugh as you chugged the entirety of his germs. The carbonation caught up to you, so you let a belch rip before turning back around to face him.

“I GOT YOUR MONO NOW, MUNSON!” You screamed out to him, “NOW YOU GOTTA MARRY ME!”

“IS THAT HOW IT WORKS, DROOGIE?” He shouted back, a shit eating grin stretched across his face, “YOU SHOULD HAVE LET ME KNOW BEFORE I TOOK A SWIG, I WOULD HAVE MADE SURE I GOT YOU A RING POP FIRST!”

“IT'S GODDAMN ROMAN CONFARREATIO LAWS, EDDIE! YOU GAVE ME MONO INSTEAD OF SPELT BREAD, NOW YOU GOTTA MARRY ME!” You joked.

You noticed from the big, smart ass grin that he was about to do something outrageous, and your heart began to sing. He immediately got to his knee on the asphalt, everyone in the Seven Eleven parking lot watching as he began to scream like an orator in the colosseum. He used your full government name and everything when he called out to the small parking lot audience.

“HEAR ME, CITIZENS OF HAWKINS! I AM BUT A VESSEL FOR THE GODS, A BEARER, A MESSENGER OF THAT MOST HOLY WORD FROM MOUNT OLYMPUS! I HAVE SHARED OF THE COOTIE WITH A WOMAN, AND THUS OUR MARRIAGE BETWEEN EMPEROR AND DROOG IS SOLEMNIZED-…!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, FREAK!” Someone called out, immediately flinching back when Eddie rounded on him.

“THE GODS. HAVE. SPOKEN!” Eddie screeched, a glob of spit flying out of his mouth and onto the hot asphalt.

He was wide eyed. Deranged. Eddie lifted up the hem of his denim vest and held it out and to the side, to look like wings unfurling, screaming to the heavens as you began howling with him.

“YEAH!” You screamed out, raising your bottle and shouting every bit of nonsense you could think of, “GOD SANCTIONED DROOG MARRIAGE CO-RULER ULTRA-VIOLENCE! MAZEL TOV!”

“THE IMPERIAL HUSBAND NOW DEMANDS TO KISS THE DROOG BRIDE!” Eddie screamed, “PLANT ONE ON ME, GODDESS DIVINE OF THE REPUBLIC OF HAWKINS!!”

You looked at Chessie, who looked as if she was going to throw up or scream. It wasn’t immediately clear which. Instead of ending the joke, you grinned. Shrugged. The glossy magazine paper pages of the forgotten Avon Colorworks catalog ripped under the tread of your shoes when— without warning— you took off towards Eddie, and planted a fat wet kiss on his mouth. He froze for a moment, but returned the kiss with fervor, making an obnoxious hum and wet smack when you pulled away.

“Yum.” You gushed, licking your lips and changing your cadence to the unhinged Kubrick Cockney, “Them’s tasty cooties, they are, brother sir!”

“Yeah? Them false cytomegalovirus germs are what taste good to ya, droog?” He laughed, wrapping his arms around you and putting on his own terrible accent.

“That they are, sir, that’s what gives all me food and drink that plus flavor.” You grinned.

The two of you cackled, thoroughly enjoying throwing out random quotes and various insanities that to the normal person would put them off of your insanity and edge-lord humor. Chessie had long since taken off for the gated community of Loch Nora on her bike, but you didn’t care. You could live without a selection of eyeshadows, a rainbow tote purse, and all of your false friends if the choice came down to choosing them, or Eddie.

“Wanna go into the gas station and split another bottle of mono before we blow this joint?” You asked.

His grin could have rivaled that of Malcolm McDowell.

“Now, how can I say no to my new wife?” He grinned, holding out his arm for you to take, “But I am a man of my word, so you’re getting a new Coke, plus that Ring Pop so’s we can make this thing official.”

“Spare no expense, huh?” You grinned, and he pulled you in closer. Both of your hips knocking together.

“Hey… Only the best and finest gems and refreshments for Empress Droog the First of Hawkins, Indiana.” Eddie said with a confident smile.

You smiled at him, nudging one another with your bodies all the way into the gas station, until he pulled you in for another sloppy kiss in the middle of the snack aisle.

[bisluthq]

RATTY HEALY IS ENGAGED

mazel tov 😂💀 I mean genuinely I wish them all the best but ffs I can see the mess on the horizon baby.

[princessnijireiki]

…one of the ndn tumblr rph bloggers I've blocked for anti-latinx bullshit is def ok being reblogged by an anti-black & anti-native racist rper I've also got history with even though both of them have li'l ol' me blocked back lol, so karma is just truly fucking hysterical out here

[youhideastar]

Mazel tov on completing yet another monster epic with a telepathic POV character, which, as we all know, is your absolute fave thing to write

Thank you, anon - I'm so glad that my life-destroying propensity to write telepathic POV characters (see, e.g., this, this, and this) has become so well-known that I have anons affectionately trolling me about it, which I deserve. 😂 😂 😂

I am pleased to report that none of my... *counts* ...twenty current WIPs 😂 🤦‍♀️ involves telepathy. Yet.

[alexstorm]

Nick said to that fan in the piccy he had a newborn baby with his wife!! No surprise he looks knackered!!!// Well, that is this confirmed. Jeez! Three kids?! I’d kill myself. 😂// Wow, Nick got married?! I guess we did see a ring in that Matt & Steve Insta vid with the truck. 2020-2021 didn't stop him! Mazel tov, I suppose?! 😬 Dang. I can't imagine all that with touring coming up, but I guess do you, boo. Maybe Andy will have his triumphant return!

I knew before that video since his wife was pretty active in Louise's comment section. I guess the birth of her child slowed her down a bit in that regard. lmao

[gettingreadyfortour]

I listen to TAB at The Tab daily!

This Trey Anastasio Band show is from 2/27/10.

It’s Bar Mitzvah age, Mazel Tov Trey😂

https://youtu.be/V-Em96aCRmo #welcometomyphishylife #tab #treyanastasio #phish

[kmp78]

Jaded because true? Anon is right. Ksenia and DK cannot get over some weekend in 4 months and VK can get over 8 years in 4 months? You’re naive. Assholes which didn’t love their previous partners like Bieber can tho.

Hahhaa i always thought the same about Bieber. It's worse than not loving it's about being double-minded (like it says in the bible i reference it in order to understand what double minded means). Unstable and disingenuous. But what you all fail to understand is that with Valery exiting it's time for Jared to find THE ONE. the real partner for him.

Yeah well that's not happening... 😂🙅‍♂️

Unless his "THE ONE" turns out to be Embo in which case mazel tov! 🙌

How fortunate that EW just moved into a new home so they can start their happily ever after together in peace and harmony. 🏡

[and-allthat-jazz]

In an RP I was doing, I came up with the idea that Cassie was super into supernatural/cryptids as well as real sciences (when she grows up she’ll figure out that she just wants to understand how the world works, especially in a place like the MCU 😂) and since San Fran is where the real-life Winchester house is at, there’s a tradition that on her birthday the two of them would go explore a different area and try to find the ghosts.

Oh, and I came to the conclusion that Scott’s Jewish, because Paul Rudd obviously. Mazel tov!

Random ask: give your favorite HC about Scott

Oh heck yeah! Let’s go!

First of all, thanks for the ask, friend! It makes me so happy. Sorry I didn’t answer right away! Work kept interrupting me typing my answer, and I wanted to put thought into this lol.

Alright, hold on to your horses because once I get started, I don’t know if I can stop. You picked one of my favorite things to ask about 😁

I’m also going to say one of these because I’m going to give more than one I can’t give just one is not mine but actually came from @thwipandquip and I 100% accepted it right on the spot. The others I already had but developed further with @thwipandquip

Scott is a brilliant cook. He learned how to cook from his paternal grandmother, also brilliant in the kitchen, and he learned how to cook without needing to follow recipes all the time. He’s the type who likes to make stuff up as he goes, and he’s learned enough from his grandmother and from his own experiences to know what goes well together and what doesn’t. His dishes are nine times out of ten a big success, and even then that tenth time that’s not all that great is really, really rare. He’s good at it, and his dishes are proof. He can get cocky about it, but he’s earned the right. But! He can’t bake to save his life. He’s lucky if he doesn’t burn pre-made cookies that you can throw in the oven. Which was lucky for him that Baskin-Robbins didn’t require him to bake. He’s tried to bake. His grandmother tried to teach him, but for all the ingenious and knack he’s got for cooking, he had none left over for baking.

Scott played baseball in high school and college. He played other sports, but baseball was his first love. Scott tried to get #22 because his dad played baseball back in his day too, and that was his number, but Scott couldn’t get that one. So he wore #2 on his jerseys instead. Close enough to satisfy him. He played catcher and pitched some, but he loved playing catcher way more. So he’s used to wearing gear and a helmet and having to run and be active in it, which helped him feel more at ease in the Ant-Man suit and helmet. He played minor league some and could’ve probably gone pro if he wanted, but he decided on doing other things.

This is the one that’s not originally mine but I 100% accepted. Scott can paint, and he can do a pretty damn good job of it. He’s always had a knack for sketching and drawing stuff, and he started painting early on. It wasn’t until he got into high school art that his teacher was like “Holy shit this kid can actually paint!” So his teacher kinda spoiled him and gave him extra attention to help foster the talent and help him master it. Once Scott realized this was something he loved to do and could help entertain him and distract him when he was feeling low or his ADHD (another HC) was rampant, he pursued it and became amazing at it. He can pretty much paint whatever he wants. If he can imagine it, he can put it on canvas, and his forte is realism. He can make something look so real, it could be mistaken for a photo.

Halloween and Christmas are his favorite holidays. He can go all out for both especially with the decorations, and he’s as excited as any kid when they roll around. With Halloween, he loves the spooky stuff and getting scared, and he puts his electric engineering to good use and make moving Halloween decorations that are scary and cool all at once. He loves going to haunted houses with Cassie. Plus, Scott and Cassie like to go on trips to visit haunted places and do like their own ghost hunts. Scott dressed up as a Ghostbuster one year and loves that movie. He likes the second one okay, but the first is way better in his opinion. (shameless nod to Ghostbusters: Afterlife? Absolutely.) With Christmas, he loves giving people he loves gifts. He puts thought and energy into all of them, and he often goes overboard but he doesn’t care. Tis the season! And there’s nothing that makes him feel warmer and happier than letting people he loves know that he cares and they’re important to him. He and Cassie also have a competition every year on who can give each other the most wacky, ridiculous gift. So far, Cassie’s winning, but you best believe he’ll find a gift to help him win next year!

[inner-muse]

Avengers: Mazel tov!!!

😂

Avengers: Oh no:( hope you feel better

[kmp78]

"You're already on a few people's shit list"

😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

Well, @let-o-perfume , I'd say this anon confirmed that you have now officially made it. 😜

Mazel tov! 🎉🏆⚘🥂

Maybe try not to rant on every post? It's getting annoying after you're already on a few peoples shit lists.

Don’t read my blog if you don’t like it.

Also, learn to comprehend what you read. I don’t rant on my posts, I make comments.

I don’t care about YOU or anyone like you liking my blog.I am an adult. Your childish comments/behaviour is what make Mars fandom a joke. Grow the fuck up, child.