#the rocks biggest fan

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

things we learn about mulder in s1

he wanted to be an astronaut when he was young, and stayed up all night when he was 14 to watch his hero do a walk in space

he's scared to death of fire because his friend's house burned down when he was a kid

he went to oxford 10 years before the start of s1, where he dated phoebe and they, at the very least, made out on arthur conan doyle's grave (but it's implied they went all the way)

he is a fan of like. all of the sports. i cannot keep up with them all, but he sure can

he had his first case at the age of 28, where an agent died because he wouldn't take a risky shot

(and he remembers everything about the man who died- his kids, their ages, what they do for fun- all of it haunts him)

((he also, at the trial for the man who killed the agent, screamed that he "should die like an animal, you son of a bitch"- so much for cool and composed spooky mulder))

he always falls asleep on his couch to the point where i don't even know if this man has a bed

before being moved to the x-files, he worked for 3 years at the behavioral science unit, where he profiled serial killers

(also literally no one wants him on the x files they just keep him around because he is too dangerous to fire lmao)

he will go out of his way to make any kids involved a case he's assigned to feel comfortable and/or laugh as a break from the Heavy Moments (probably because he remembers being questioned while very young and how awful it felt)

he believes that siblings have a psychic connection (heartbreaking when you remember his sister disappeared when he was 12 and he only has access to the memories due to hypnosis)

he refused to let his parents call him by his first name and only went by "mulder", even as a child

[ms-spkhd]

thinking about a Blast From the Past steddie au tonight. like, think about it for a second--steve as the sweet, well-meaning himbo raised in a fallout shelter and eddie as the cynic who shows him the world as it is:

The year was 1962, and an atomic bomb had just dropped on top of the Harrington household.

Okay, not really. It was actually a fighter jet that suffered a mechanical failure just above the little plot of land the Harringtons called their home, but Walter Harrington took it differently. Far differently.

See, the thing was that the man was living in a state of paranoid delusion over the Cold War--terrified of the possibility of an outright nuclear holocaust over the Cuban Missile Crisis and the Soviet Union. He had been carefully building a fallout shelter under his home for his wife and possible children to live in with the works--canned food, running water, and even a working television.

And one day they went in and simply never left. The explosion right when they closed the door was tangible proof that the nuclear war was happening right above them.

A few years later, around 1968, a baby boy was born in a fallout shelter with no one but his mom and dad to keep him company.

They raised Steve the best they could, even if Walter Harrington was a mad genius and Madeline Harrington was a borderline alcoholic. Even if the boy was living in a perfect little time capsule of the fifties and early sixties. Walter made sure to educate him right and teach him how to be a sociable gentleman--even if he had no idea what swear words or the concept of sex were. That was for another time. Although, twenty-four years came and went for Steve Harrington, his father still owes him 'another time'.

Steve Harrington grows twenty-four years in perfect seclusion, but that changes at the flick of a switch.

The year is 1992: supplies are dwindling Walter is growing sick, and Steve is tasked to bravely set foot in the nuclear fallout to retrieve more material. (The only reason why Walter assumes they can even get more stuff is because he observed the outside world when the shelter unlocked and mistook it as a post-apocalyptic mutant society.)

The moment Steve made it outside his little bubble, he was utterly fascinated by the world--how different the people were outside of his television and his little books, how bright the sky was outside, how the irritable man on the bus wouldn't accept the money he tried to give him, how the bus moved and didn't fling him right off his seat.

(He even saw an adult bookstore. Dad told him that those things were filled with poisonous gas. How were they even to operate if they were filled with poisonous gas? That's dangerous and totally inconsiderate of the general public's safety.)

Anyway, he tries to follow the grocery list that Mom and Dad gave him the best he can, stocking up on poultry and tissue paper and the works. But by the end of the day, he doesn't know where he came from. Not a single sign or building or person can give him a single clue where to go.

After a few hours of wandering, suitcase in hand, he comes across a store with WE BUY BASEBALL CARDS written on the window.

Golly, Steve loves baseball cards--could look at Dad's collection for hours, and with the collection he has, he could make a pretty penny selling them for supplies. Despite the little hobby store being beside an adult bookstore with poisonous gas, he scampers right in.

"I see you're looking to buy baseball cards," he says breezily to the gruff, scary-looking man behind the counter.

"That I am," he replies.

Steve pulls a few from his jacket's inner pocket. "Well, these are a bit old, you see, but I was hoping you still might be interested."

The gruff man yanks them from his hands, a spark in his eye. He looks delighted to see them, and it fills Steve with an excitement he hadn't felt at all today. Nobody has been this happy over something he's done today. "Woah," he gasps, then covers it with a cough. "Mickey Mantle rookie season...how much do you want?"

"I was hoping to sell all of my cards, actually!"

The man sputters incredulously. "All of 'em? Are you fucking with me?"

"I'm not sure what that means, but all I have are hundred-dollar bills and I need something smaller. Like, uh...ones, tens, fives..."

"Tell you what, I'll give you five hundred in small bills for all you got."

Steve smiles brightly. "Oh, that would be wonderful, sir--"

"Five hundred for a case-full of rookie season Mickey Mantles, Rick, are you fucking joking?" A deep voice cuts through Steve's thanks from the other side of the small store. He turns around to find a man leaning against a magazine rack, arms folded sternly.

The man is unlike Steve's ever seen before. Long, long limbs and big brown eyes that look traced with black and smudged around the edges. Pretty lips, too almost girl-ish, in the way they were big and plush like the women he'd see on the television. The strangest thing about him, though, was the curly hair that tumbled past his shoulders.

He looked mad, though. Madder than mad.

"Tell the poor guy you're fucking with him," long-hair-pretty-lips says to the man behind the counter, who bristles.

"Were you raised in a fucking barn, Munson? Who told you to interrupt on business?" Rick counters. Steve was really not appreciating the amount of f-words dropped in the conversation, it was uncouth.

"Sure I was!" Munson saunters towards the counter and Steve's eyes follow him like a moth to a light. "But my morals go past your business practices at this point. You remember the ninth commandment, yeah?"

"You shut your Goddamn mouth--"

"Excuse me sir, but I really don't appreciate how you're using the Lord's name in vain like that," Steve says firmly.

"See?" Munson smiles. It's like sunlight. "He gets it."

He plucks the baseball card from Rick's hand and holds it over his head when he tries to reach for it again. "See this little thing?" He says to Steve sweetly. "This guy costs six grand alone."

"Get out of town! Really?"

"Oh yeah, big guy. Selling the thing would give you a small fortune, and Rick over here is trying to con you out of it."

Steve frowns. "Is that true?" He asks Rick.

"Nothing but," Munson says in place of him. He slips the card back into Steve's hands and gives them a pat.

"The Hell is even keeping you here, Munson?" Rick sneers. "Did the gig you won't shut up about fall through like they usually do? Better to bum it out here than in your shithole apartment? Stop loitering in my damn store and make like a fucking tree. You're banned."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Munson says rolling his eyes. He looks at Steve, then the door, gesturing at it with a flick of his head. "I'll see you out, Beaver."

He walks them both out the door, stopping to gesture at Rick strangely--hands balled into fists with only his middle fingers up--before stepping outside onto the sidewalk.

"Well merci, Monsieur," Steve says appreciatively, because Dad taught him French was always to be used on such occasions.

"What, you're French?"

"Oh no, I'm"--he thinks back to what Dad told him if a mutant asks where he's from. Gosh, he thinks he's supposed to be--"out on business."

"And you don't even have a clue about the little business trick that Rick tried to pull?"

"No...no, I--"

"Yeah, doesn't matter." Munson shrugs. He smiles sympathetically at Steve before turning on his heel and walking off. Oh boy, what would he do without him?

He follows him like a lost puppy, that's what.

"...You going the same way?" Munson asks incredulously. Steve shakes his head.

"Well, I'm following you."

Munson stops in his tracks, blinking, and Steve almost runs into him in his state. "Me?"

"Well yes! Where are we going?"

"We?" Munson asserts. "I'm going back to my shithole apartment, and judging by that jacket you're wearing, you should be taking the next left and hop-skipping straight to the barber college."

"Oh, I'm lost, though."

"Aren't we all?"

"Say, did you just get banned from that hobby store because of me?" Steve says to change the subject.

Munson sighs. "Seems like I did, sailor. The place was shitty anyways, with that dickhead running the operation. Wayne could get better cards from a different joint."

...dickhead? Steve's never heard that leave the seams of anyone's lips before. "Dickhead?"

"Yeah, he's a real fucking loser. A walking talking penis capable of human speech."

Steve gets queasy at the image he's concocted in his head. He leans against the nearest brick wall, his suitcase tumbling to the ground as he drops into a contemplative squat.

"Dude, what is wrong with you?"

"Well, the mental image that I..."

Munson's eyebrows scrunch before he reaches out a hand to Steve. He takes it, letting the man haul him upward. "Look, man, where'd you park your car?"

"I came by bus."

"Aren't you full of surprises."

"I am?"

"Okay look." Eddie raises his hands, palms splayed in the air. "It's your first time in Los Angeles, right? Everyone wants a taste of it, I know, and you're out for business and fucking famished. You got the opportunity to see the great big world outside of your little bubble and you got excited--but you took a bus and got mixed up in the middle of San Fernando Valley without a clue in the world. Am I correct?"

Steve listens in wonderment. So far, Munson's been correct in a way. He's convinced he might be psychic. He nods slowly and seriously just to see Munson flash that lighting-strike smile.

"Great, great. Which brings us to here. Correct again?"

"Oh yeah."

"Where are you staying?"

Nowhere, at the moment. Steve opens his mouth to say so, but Munson interrupts quickly. "Holiday Inn?"

"Yes, the Holiday Inn!" Steve says totally truthfully.

"Okay, cool. Cool." Munson claps his hands together with finality and starts walking. "The nearest bus station is a couple of blocks away if you take a right--"

"Don't you have a car?"

Munson stops in his tracks again. He turns to face Steve once again. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

Something warm pools in Steve's gut at the pet name. Something about the way those pretty lips form that word sends blood rushing to his cheeks. "Steve," he says.

"Alright, Steve." Oh boy, his name sounds even better when Munson says it. "Rule number one in Los Angeles? Never let a stranger drive you anywhere."

"If it makes you feel any better," Steve says sweetly, "I don't have a gun."

Munson pales, then starts running.

"Hey!" Steve cries and makes haste to follow him. "I must've said something wrong, please forgive me!"

"Nope, nope--get the fuck away from me, man!"

He grabs Munson's wrist to pull him back, which is a bad move since the man starts writhing around in his grip. "I'm not going to hurt you, sir!"

Steve drops Munson's hand and raises his in surrender. "See?"

"...Just let me get to my car."

"I'll give you a Rogers Hornsby if you take me to my hotel," Steve reasons.

Munson stills. "...That's like four grand, don't bullshit me."

He pulls the card from his jacket and presents it as evidence. "See? I was holding it back." He wants Munson to feel safe. "I got two." He reaches for the other cards in his pockets and pulls them out. "And-and all these other ones, too!"

"Okay, okay. You'll give me four thousand dollars if I drive you to your place?"

"Uh-uh!"

"That's it?"

"Yep."

"And I don't have to give you a quickie in the backseat or anything?"

"Yes sir--wait, what?"

Munson blows past his question like it didn't even leave Steve's mouth. "Can you stop with the sir crap?"

"Well, I'm sorry, sir--"

"My name is Eddie."

Eddie...Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Wow, what a name. It's almost like something he's heard on the television.

"Why, it's nice to meet you, Eddie."

"Tolerable to meet you too, Steve."

Steve smiles shyly, then asks, "So are you a girl?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well it's just your hair...it's so long." Steve points at his as an example. "I've never seen anything like it before."

"Dude, it's 1992, every other guy looks like this--have you been living under a rock or something?"

Something like that. Steve shrugs.

"Well guys having long hair doesn't mean that they're girls, Steve, that's a given. It's not 1962 anymore." Eddie backtracks. "Well, I mean, dudes can have long hair and be chicks and chicks can be dudes too but that's not--"

"Oh, wow, my dad told me about one of those the last time he went here!"

"Oh that's fantastic, sweetheart," Eddie says, sugary-sweet. "But how about I drive you home?"

"That'd be a pleasure, Eddie."

[mezucore]

me, loving a character that was essentially created 60 years ago? more likely than you think

[teh-inggris]

[getosugurusbangs]

what if i said i actually love too weird to live, too rare to die and think it’s underrated. what then.

[heavymetalarchive]

NIKKI SIXX and MICK MARS of MÖTLEY CRÜE in KERRANG's MEGA METAL 1989 Glam Metal Special Edition.

[hide-your-bugs-away]

CALL MY ROOM A ZOO BECAUSE THERE ARE A LOT OF ANIMALS IN HERE.

[legallyacceptibleurl]

this shit infuriates me to no end

this isn’t a callout and there isn’t anything wrong with this post in and of itself, let me gripe

ID: screenshot of a post reblogged by @jewish-kulindadromeus

@sinothetimes: “while l'm on a roll of no longer giving a shit, I also think it's stupid to pretend that the rise in antisemitism, while terrifying, is a bigger issue than the active genocide being perpetrated in Gaza. like, the hate and the potential for things to get worse in the future is incredibly horrible. the fact that most like well over 100,000 gazans have been murdered in the last year is inherently worse because those people are dying right now. this is not saying stop talking about antisemitism but that is me saying if you use leftist antisemitism as an excuse to turn your back on the ACTIVE GENOCIDE youre kind of a shitstain.

End ID

what really grinds my gears is when someone like a-dinosaur-a-day/jewish-kulindadromeus/zygodactylus has the gall to act like eir’s not part of the problem.

EDIT I FORGOT TO ADD A CUT

ID: a set of screenshots showing @jewish-kulindadromeus reblogging from @shofarsogood, @starlightomatic, @notyourgoodjew, @tributary, @jewishlivesmatter, @yidpunk. End ID

(eventually i will have posts about all those blogs, but these take a long time to make because of the image descriptions but i will not skimp on accessibility. but if you know these blogs you know)

it’s good to have issues with how people use talking about antisemitism as a reason to ignore the genocide, but clearly ey doesn’t care too much about people doing that type of shit. a post here and there about how ey doesn’t believe in violence and reblogging a couple gazan donation posts doesn’t cancel out the much much more frequent posts reblogged from people who would like everyone to stop talking about the genocide pretty please

like it rings so fucking hollow when a few days later ey goes and reblogs this (on eir other blog)

ID: a screenshot of a post that @zygodactylus reblogged from @jewish-rock

@anshelsgendercrisis:

an image of the meme of two spider-men pointing at each other. one of them has the text “ppl who use "zio" as a slur for jews” and the other one has “ppl who use "pali" as a slur for palestinians”. the text of the post says “get it bc ur both extremist assholes who are making things worse.”

@transmascpetewentz: “radical antizionists (handshake emoji) kahanists

literally their entire ideology other than whose side they happen to be on”

End ID.

again it’s not the post itself (stupid as it fucking is), it’s the poster or rather who ey reblogged it from. this is @jewish-rock on the same day that @jewish-kulindadromeus/zygodactylus reblogged a posts which ends with “if you use leftist antisemitism as an excuse to turn your back on the ACTIVE GENOCIDE youre kind of a shitstain.”

ID: two screenshots of a post reblogged by @jewish-rock

@jewish-mccoi: “Can we talk about how fucked up it is that Jews and Israelis have no safe spaces online? And if we dare complain, we're told we're whining and other groups have it worse.

And no one seems to either notice or care. The pro Palestine movement is infested with antisemitism. Leftist spaces are infested with antisemitism. It's impossible to engage with the pro Palestinian movement because to do so, they demand you denounce Israel's existence and make you be their token Jew. Like no? The fuck gives you the audacity?

I'm tired of walking on eggshells around leftists for fear of being called a colonizer or a genocide apologist because guess what??? It doesn't fucking matter what I say, you're gonna do it anyway, because I'm an evil Jew!

I could talk till I'm blue in the face about cease fires or how Hamas is purposefully putting civilians in harms way, but the second I do, people are like "oh you mean Israel. Israel is the problem." Actually, you fucking black and white thinker, ISRAEL IS NOT ALWAYS THE PROBLEM. Israel has done fucked up things. So has every fucking country on earth. But the news is dominated by "Israel is awful" and "wipe Israel off the map." Why do you think that is.

IT'S ANTISEMITISM. It's just that simple. Really fucking is.

And because the movement keeps flooding Jewish tags on tumblr with antisemitism, I am gonna tag this so the "river to the sea" people ACTUALLY ADVOCATING GENOCIDE can have their safe spaces (Jew free spaces) interrupted. I'm tired of taking the high road.

You all would rather side with terrorists than Jews. That's how bad the leftist problem with antisemitism is. Terrorists who admit to using rape and murder and torture ON CIVILIANS as tactics. That's how much you fucking hate us.

Well, tough fucking luck. We're here and we're not going anywhere. Am yisrael chai, fuckers.”

End ID.

at most mildly perturbed by people using leftist antisemitism as an excuse to turn their back on an active genocide, not enough to unfollow them though

i find it so fucking spineless. be mutuals with & follow a shitload of zionists who have spent the last 11 months downplaying and trying to distract from the endless massacres in gaza, who try to discredit any and all efforts to help people who are fenced in & bombed. but claim moral righteousness by every now & then going “war is bad you guys, can’t we all be friends, i don’t support either side i support peace”, thinking that absolves you for supporting those people

[shallowtboy]

brat summer is dead it's joni mitchell autumn

[i-love-tdg]

what if 𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮 𝓭𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓮 was called 𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮 𝓭𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 hand instead of writing songs they get 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂...

[funforahermit]

so i totally forgot to freak out about the fact that rhys is coming to dan's live show in may!! i mean i very much did freak out, but not here on my blog. i guess i was waiting for someone to post the instagram announcement, which, y'know, i could have done myself as soon as i realised it was slipping through the cracks, but unfortunately i'm a lazy bitch 🙈

anyway!! i'm soooooo excited about this!!! it was really only a matter of time before rhys would be a guest on We Can Be Weirdos, wasn't it. And it's soooo cool that dan is making it special by having him at his first(?) live recording.

i can't go, unfortunately (and now it's sold out anyway), but i'm hoping to catch some snippets in the form of eye witness accounts, and i can't WAIT to listen to the edit when it comes out.

[softquietsteadylove]

Both are attending a meeting with some business partners but soon they insult and make fun of Gil getting himself shot. Thena isn’t having it at all and soon they are begging for mercy and forgiveness 😈

For the tyrant king au of course 😁

"Then we're agreed."

Gil stood, although he hadn't said nearly as much in the meeting as Thena had with their associates. The businessmen in question were mostly interested in Thena's assets, after all, it was just that some of their 'goods' would be distributed through Thena's channels, as well as through Koreatown and Chinatown.

He wasn't nearly interested enough in what was being said; he wanted to be at home, with Thena, cuddling on the couch or listening to her read in bed while he played on his phone.

"Indeed we are," Thena nodded. The businessmen offered their hands, but Thena looked over at him. The Ice Queen didn't shake hands unless she was already acquainted with her associate.

Gil sighed, extending his hand to shake instead. The things he did for this woman. "I'm sure our doors will be open if you need to discuss anything else about the plans."

"Thank you," the associates traded looks, "Tyrant King. Your reputation precedes you. We have heard so much about your work."

He wasn't entirely sure what that was supposed to mean, but he slipped his hands into his pockets as they prepared to end the meeting, "great."

"Is it true you killed Kro?" the younger associate of the two asked in a near whisper, a juvenile glee coming from him as he asked.

"No," Gil answered without hesitation. The younger man looked disappointed before he moved his thumb towards Thena beside him, "she did."

"Ah yes, the Ice Queen is not without her own methods."

Gil caught Thena's eye for just a second. Again, he wasn't really sure what this young guy's deal was, but he was more and more eager to wrap things up.

"But The Prince Eternal, that most certainly was you!" the other associate now joined in. Technically, it was bad decorum--bringing up past business that wasn't anything they should be concerned with, Gil thought.

"Uh, yeah," Gil blinked. He wasn't sure how they had found that one out.

"Ah," the older one at least seemed to realise how rude they were being. "Forgive the intrusion. We do have quite a skilled information dealer we consulted before coming. Can't be ignorant to our honourable host's reputations, after all."

"You can be a little ignorant," Gil mumbled, although it was taken as more of a friendly joke than how he meant it--a genuine urging for them to get the fuck out of his office.

"You've had quite the past, Tyrant King!" the younger one chimed in again. "A bungled affair, sending business away left and right!"

"You even got shot last year!"

Perhaps they were unable to read the room--like, at all. But the two seemed elated to prove that they knew the lives of their business associates. They even grinned at him as they said it.

"It happens," the younger one waved it off like it was nothing, "I don't think you're past your prime at all!"

Gil bit his tongue. He didn't realise that was an opinion people had of him. What--because he got shot?! He didn't see how that was his fault.

"It was the fall of one of the great families in the business back in Korea! Their daughter still hasn't been seen in public."

Gil resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Do you know why that is?"

Gil felt a shiver run up even his spine, and he wasn't the one in trouble. He looked at the men who, by the calm looks on their faces, didn't seem to know yet why the temperature had changed so much.

Thena just stared at them, but they didn't make a guess at all. So, she informed them. "It's because I cut off one of her fingers before I sent her back to them."

The two men looked at one another. Apparently that wasn't in the briefing done by their precious 'information dealer' (horseshit). They put on perfectly polite smiles. "We were unaware, Ice Queen."

"Most are," Thena continued to fix them with her icy green glare. She rustled her lace around her shoulders. "I also told her that she would be relieved of her ears next, if I ever saw her near me, or my husband, again."

"Your-"

"We weren't-"

Poor guys didn't even see it coming. They could have just looked down when Thena adjusted her lace to see that she had reached for her hip. Her fingers had grasped the knife she kept around her thigh, which was now driven into the younger man's leg, dangerously close to some key arteries.

She looked at the other one, who flinched just from that. "I take threats - and disrespect - of the Tyrant King very seriously."

"I-I-I would-" he stuttered, trying to back up to the office doors behind him. But he could never have moved fast enough, getting another of her knives launched into the palm of his hand he had been trying to use to show her he meant no harm.

The younger one pulled the knife out of his thigh, but he wasn't in any condition to fight back. Thena used the sole of her heel to push him over in his crumpled posture, like a wounded animal.

"Did you find the story thrilling?" she asked so dryly and evenly. Gil watched as she reached into the younger man's suit jacket and pulled out the weapon he had in an arm holster. She held it in a way that was kind of sexy, honestly. "Did you find it amusing?"

"I'm sorry!" he yelped, trying to crawl, but his leg was all but useless. "I'm sorry, I won't say it again!"

"Do you know where he was shot?" she turned to the other one, who sprinted to the doors and pulled on them to escape.

She shot him from behind, two in the ribs and one by his clavicle (if he had been turned around facing her). "Is it painful?"

Gil just whistled to himself, impressed as always. Thena didn't even look back at him; she wasn't done.

She walked over to the man dragging his bloody hand down Gil's nice, solid oak door. Again, she used her foot to nudge him into looking up at her. "I said: is it painful?"

"Y-Yes," the man snivelled.

"Yes?" Thena glared down at him, flipping his hand over and stepping on it (the injured one).

"Y-Yes--yes, Ice Queen!"

Thena emptied the rest of the clip next to his head, scaring him very literally shitless. She left him kneeling on the floor, watching his life flash before his eyes. The completely empty and useless weapon, she tossed at the head of the other one, letting it smack him in the face like tossing a food wrapper in the garbage.

Gil pulled his hands out of his pockets just to clap. "Holy shit, Princess, that was hot!"

She glared at him, "is that truly the adjective you wish to choose?"

"Okay," he chuckled, walking over to her to amend his compliment. He kissed her temple, wrapping his arm around her, "it was ice cold."

Thena rolled her eyes at the silly joke (as the men screamed and cried in agony in the background). "That was far worse."

"Yeah, but that's why you're marrying me," Gil snickered, positively delighted to bring up their engagement at every possible opportunity.

Thena sighed, straightening his collar and unbuttoning his shirt, now that they weren't in a very important meeting. She liked seeing the edges of his tattoo sleeves encroaching on his shoulders. "I would not say that is why."

"Okay, okay," he chuckled, leading her out of the office that was about to stink of blood and evacuated bowels. "My devilish good looks were too much to resist, huh?"

Thena didn't chide him, at least, letting him lead her away from the mess they left inside. She merely let her lace settle in the crooks of her elbows as he led her to the elevators. "I am willing to agree if it gets us home that much faster."

Gil pointed at his office from the elevator doors, "that's gonna need a good bleaching."

"Understood sir!" his guys knew what that meant, and exactly what evidence to wash out of his area rugs.

Once they were in the elevator, away from prying eyes, Thena allowed him to nuzzle her cheek. "What an exhausting meeting."

"I barely remember anything from it," he agreed, and the way she laughed meant that he didn't need to tell her that. He kissed her cheek, "but I do remember you saying that you felt like sushi tonight."

"Something light, please," she sighed, allowing him to unravel the tight knots that comprised her business persona.

"Anything you desire, Ice Queen," Gil purred for her. He would tell her when they were home how sexy he found her whole defense of him. Maybe he could even get her to be a little pushy with him tonight.

[asktherae]

baby we were born to runnnn 🎸

[anghraine]

@heckofabecca tagged me in a meme to just list five songs on regular play and tag ten of my favorite followers! Thanks, Becca :)

I thought I'd mix things up a bit and go with my Obscurify data, which says my top five songs are:

Who Wants To Live Forever | Queen

Nevertheless, She Persisted | Audiomachine

Pompeii MMXXIII | Hans Zimmer and Bastille

Frostpunk Theme | Piotr Musiał

Mass Effect Theme | Jack Wall, Sam Hulick

I'm not super surprised, because I think "Who Wants To Live Forever" is one of the most beautiful rock songs ever and certainly one of the most beautiful by Queen (my favorite band!) and it's forever linked in my mind to my most beloved canon Tolkien ship, Aegnor/Andreth.

And I often listen to instrumentals or at least "epic" style tracks when I'm stressed or want to write in something other than silence, so I spend a lot of my music-listening time with groups like Audiomachine, video game soundtracks or covers of themes, that kind of thing. The atmosphere of "Nevertheless, She Persisted" in particular is perfect for a specific story project, so I've listened to it most of all! If I excluded background tracks for writing to, though, and just went with songs with lyrics I actively listen to, the final list would be:

Who Wants To Live Forever | Queen

Black Velvet | Alannah Myles

Under Pressure | Queen and David Bowie

This Is Who You Are | Trans-Siberian Orchestra

Love | Lana del Rey

Tagging: @ladytharen, @grumpyfaceurn, @irresistible-revolution, @inkandcayenne, @incognitajones, @kazaera, @lantur, @melyzard, @nanyoky, @ncfan-1, @nelayn, @liz-squids, @scholarlyhobbit, @sqbr, @steinbecks, @venndaai (wait, that's more than 10... anyway)

[cobalt-canary]

Me *sees everyone simping for her + dead mom hair + mentor figure to the main character*: well it’s a good thing you’re in a slice of life or you’d be dead

[kirbo-kirbstar]

from day one i always considered the "fairies look like angels in an x-ray" thing to just be a haha silly visual gag, but looking at how much fans have ran with that i'm started to wonder if the official ANW crew is gonna pick up inspo