#whole kit and caboodle

[thecultofproductivity]

Heck yeah my dudes 11.5 hours remaining

[montereybayaquarium]

Anotter shellebration?!? We’re just getting this pawty started! 🎉 🦦 🎊

We recently recognized Kit the southern sea otter’s 14th birthday! She joined the Sea Otter Program as a rescued 5-week-old pup in January 2010. Kit officially achieved surrogate mom status in 2014 and has helped raise 10 wild, orphaned sea otter pups during her time at the Aquarium. 

As you can see, this feisty otter is always on the move. Whether she’s dragging enrichment items into the water or inspecting every inch of the exhibit, she always keeps our mammalogist team on their toes! 

We’re otterly thankful for Kit’s playful antics and for everything she’s done for the wild sea otter population.

Leave your birthday wishes for Kit below!

[polyamorousmood]

In the interest of being able to concisely describe complex relationships, we need a universal naming convention

In the interest of making everyone's life hell, we should base it on organic chemistry naming conventions.

[oh-katsuki]

AND THE CROWD GOES FUCKING CRAZY!!! IT GOES WILD THEY'RE FUCKIN BOUNCING OFF THE WALLS!!! THE WHOLE PLANET IS CHEERING!!!!

MISTER BITCH UNIVERSE!!!!!!!!!!!

[btheleaf]

Pema? A whole person? It’s more likely than you think.

[https-chaos]

Before they went into warp I transported the whole kit and caboodle into their engine room…

Where they’ll be no tribble at all, sir 😇

[anundesirablechild]

best part about working on my rewrite for so long is that i forget about jokes until i read them again. the number of times i've been able to earnestly laugh at the line "not even just the balls, perona!" should probably be humiliating

[bizexuals]

y’all ever get misgendered so much that someone using the right pronouns still feels like misgendering

[cesium-sheep]

I Desire Spaghetti

[badger-tales]

Palmistry//E.M x reader

A/n: this was a fic I wrote on my old a count a few years ago (that I deleted) but I re-wrote it and just in time for Halloween!! There's a part 2 if this does well

Summary: Eddie Munson is enthralled by Hawkins resident “witch”

Word count: 5k

Also requests are open atm

Whispers began to weave their way through the hallways of Hawkins High, subtle at first but growing louder with each passing day. They labeled her a "witch," not because she brewed potions or cast spells, but simply due to her unconventional makeup—a stark departure from the garish palettes her classmates favored. Her eyes were framed by sharp, inky lines that accentuated their depth, and her lips bore a shade of crimson that contrasted strikingly with her porcelain skin. It was artistry, not an "obnoxious conglomeration of clashing colors smeared" haphazardly across her face.

Initially, the murmurs gnawed at her. She could feel the weight of curious and judgmental eyes, the way conversations would hush as she entered a room, only to resume in hushed tones after she passed. But over time, she decided to embrace the moniker they had bestowed upon her. Casting aside any lingering doubts, she delved deeper into the persona they had created for her. Thick velvet chokers adorned her neck, silver rings—each with intricate designs—graced her fingers, and flowing black dresses became her armor against their scrutiny. She adopted the entire ensemble, the whole kit and caboodle, transforming their mockery into her identity.

Stories about her began to circulate with fervor. Some claimed she practiced mysterious rituals under the light of the full moon; others swore they saw strange symbols etched into her notebooks. The tales grew taller with each retelling, painting her as a figure shrouded in enigma and shadow. Among these rumors was one that particularly caught the attention of Eddie "The Freak" Munson—a fellow outsider known for his love of heavy metal and Dungeons & Dragons.

Eddie had noticed her in passing—a solitary figure navigating the bustling corridors with a book perpetually in hand. Her isolation resonated with him, but it wasn't until the grapevine delivered its exaggerated narratives that he truly took interest. Intrigued by the mystery surrounding Hawkins' very own "witch," he sought to learn more.

During a lull in their D&D session, Eddie leaned forward, glancing around at his friends. "So, what's the story with that girl everyone keeps talking about?" he asked, his tone casual but eyes keen with curiosity.

The group exchanged uncertain looks. One of them shrugged, fiddling with a dice. "You mean the witch? I've heard she's into some...unusual stuff. Keeps to herself, though. Top of all her classes, I think."

Another chimed in, "Yeah, but no one really knows her. People say all kinds of things."

Eddie raised an eyebrow. "But has anyone actually talked to her?"

Silence settled over the table. They all pondered the question, realizing that despite the swirling rumors, none had ever approached her. One by one, they shook their heads.

Determined, Eddie made a decision. "Well, maybe it's time someone did," he declared. He knew his own reputation might be a barrier—after all, "The Freak" wasn't exactly a term of endearment—but he was never one to back down from a challenge.

He began with small gestures. The next time he spotted her navigating the crowded hallway, he caught her eye and offered a friendly smile. More often than not, her gaze was fixed on the ground, but occasionally she would glance up, her eyes meeting his briefly before darting away. At first, she seemed puzzled by his attention, perhaps wary that it was some kind of elaborate jest—a common cruelty in high school corridors.

Undeterred, Eddie continued his silent greetings each time their paths crossed. His persistence was met with confusion, then cautious acknowledgment. After the fifth or sixth encounter, a subtle shift occurred. As they passed each other by the rows of lockers, she looked up more deliberately. This time, when he smiled, a faint smile tugged at the corners of her own lips—a fragile gesture, but a start nonetheless.

In that fleeting moment, amidst the clamor of slamming locker doors and echoing laughter, a quiet understanding passed between them. For the first time, she felt seen—not as the enigmatic figure whispered about in rumors, but as a person worth knowing. And for Eddie, the enigmatic "witch" began to transform into a potential friend, someone who, like him, danced to the beat of her own drum.

Determined to make his presence known, Eddie devised a new plan to capture her attention. His next move was to immerse himself in her world, to be where she was, to become a familiar face in the backdrop of her daily life. This meant venturing into uncharted territory for him—the library. It was a place he had previously avoided, a quiet realm filled with whispers and the soft rustling of pages, a stark contrast to the energetic chaos he was accustomed to. But for her, he was willing to brave the silence and the scent of aging books that filled the air like a delicate perfume.

Each day after that decision, Eddie found himself gravitating toward the library's wooden doors, pushing them open to enter a sanctuary of knowledge he had once deemed uninteresting. He would meander through the labyrinth of bookshelves, pretending to browse while stealing covert glances in her direction. She was often nestled in a corner by the window, where streams of sunlight illuminated her features, casting a halo around her dark hair. He watched as she perused the shelves, the way her fingers glided over the spines of books, her brows knitting in contemplation as she searched for her next read. There was a certain grace to her movements, an unspoken poetry that captivated him.

At times, he felt a pang of guilt for observing her from afar. It bordered on stalking, and he was acutely aware of how it might appear to others—or worse, to her. Yet, there was an undeniable allure about her that he couldn't resist. She was like a complex melody that he was desperate to understand, each note drawing him deeper into her world.

His friends didn't hesitate to give him a hard time about his newfound habit. During lunch, they'd nudge him playfully, smirking as they remarked on his frequent disappearances. "So, Eddie, when did you become such a book enthusiast?" one of them teased, a sly grin stretching across his face.

Eddie shrugged nonchalantly, trying to mask his true intentions. "Just broadening my horizons," he replied, taking a sip from his soda.

Another friend leaned in, feigning concern. "You sure it's not because of a certain someone? Perhaps a witch has cast a spell on you?" he joked, wiggling his fingers theatrically as if performing magic.

"Yeah, maybe she's brewing potions to make you follow her around," a third chimed in, laughter bubbling among the group.

Eddie rolled his eyes, though a faint blush betrayed him. "Very funny, guys. There's no spell. Maybe I just appreciate a quiet place to think."

They exchanged amused glances. "Right, and it has nothing to do with the 'Witch Bitch' everyone's talking about?" the first friend pressed, raising an eyebrow.

He met their gazes steadily. "She's not what people say she is," he stated firmly. "And I'm not obsessed."

"Whatever you say, man," they relented, though the teasing twinkle in their eyes remained.

Weeks turned into months, and Eddie's routine became a silent dance of near encounters. He wondered if she had noticed him at all or if he was simply a ghost drifting through the periphery of her awareness. Just as he began to question the effectiveness of his plan, something unexpected happened.

It was a crisp Wednesday morning, the air tinged with the promise of autumn. Eddie approached his locker, the metal door creaking slightly as he swung it open. As he did, a small, folded piece of paper fluttered to the ground, landing softly at his feet. He stared at it for a moment, suspicion and curiosity warring within him. Was this some kind of prank orchestrated by his friends? Or perhaps another cruel joke from the more malicious students?

Despite his reservations, an inexplicable urge compelled him to pick it up. His fingers closed around the paper, and he unfolded it carefully. The handwriting was neat, almost elegant, the ink a deep black against the stark white of the page. His heart skipped a beat as he read the words:

*"You can just say hi to me, you know?

I promise I'm not as scary as people say I am.

You're also really bad at sneaking around.

—Y/N"*

A grin spread across his face, a mix of relief and excitement surging through him. She had noticed him—not only that, but she was reaching out to him. He glanced up from the note, his eyes scanning the bustling hallway. Amidst the sea of students, he spotted her standing by a locker a few paces away. Her gaze met his, a playful sparkle in her eyes. She offered a small, knowing smile and a subtle wave before turning on her heel and disappearing into the crowd.

Eddie stood there for a moment, the cacophony of the hallway fading into the background. His mind raced, thoughts colliding in a whirlwind of possibilities. This was his chance. He wasn't going to let it slip away.

When lunchtime arrived, he made a beeline for the library, his usual swagger tinged with a hint of nervous energy. The doors swung open to reveal the familiar sanctuary, the soft glow of lamps casting warm pools of light on the polished tables. His eyes quickly found her, seated at her customary spot near the large arched window. Sunlight streamed in, illuminating her features and casting a gentle halo around her.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Here goes nothing," he muttered under his breath. With determined strides, he crossed the room and settled into the chair across from her.

She looked up from her book, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of surprise and amusement. A small smile curved her lips. "Well, hello there," she greeted, her voice smooth like velvet.

Eddie felt his pulse quicken. Up close, he noticed the subtle details he'd missed from afar—the delicate freckles dusting her nose, the way her eyelashes curled naturally, framing her captivating eyes. "Hey," he replied, hoping his voice didn't betray the fluttering in his chest.

She closed her book gently, placing it beside her. "So, you've decided to emerge from behind the bookshelves," she teased lightly. "I take it you got my note?"

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck—a nervous habit. "Yeah, I did. And, uh, sorry about that. I guess I'm not as stealthy as I thought."

She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand. "It's hard not to notice when someone is watching you," she remarked, her tone playful yet pointed.

He winced inwardly. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he said earnestly. "I just...wasn't sure how to approach you."

Her eyes softened, and she tilted her head. "Why's that?"

He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Well, you seemed like someone who values their solitude. I didn't want to intrude."

A sly smile tugged at her lips. "That's rather presumptuous of you," she countered. "Assuming I prefer to be left alone."

He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Guilty as charged," he admitted. "Maybe I was just projecting my own fears."

She laughed softly, the sound sending a pleasant warmth through him. "Fair enough," she conceded. "But you won't know unless you try, right?"

"Right," he agreed, feeling more at ease. "So, here I am."

"Here you are," she echoed, her gaze thoughtful. "Tell me, Eddie, what brings you to the library every day? Somehow, I doubt it's just the books."

He smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Maybe I'm expanding my literary horizons," he replied, echoing the excuse he'd given his friends.

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Is that so? Found any good reads lately?"

"Well, I did come across someone intriguing," he said, meeting her eyes meaningfully.

She held his gaze, a hint of a blush coloring her cheeks. "Perhaps I can recommend something," she offered.

"I'd like that," he said sincerely.

A comfortable silence settled between them, the ambient sounds of the library wrapping around them like a cocoon. Finally, she broke the silence with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Would you like me to read your palm?"

He blinked, caught off guard. "You can do that?"

She shrugged lightly. "I dabble," she said enigmatically. "Part of the whole witch persona, you know."

He grinned. "Sure, why not? Lay it on me."

"Excellent," she replied, her enthusiasm evident. She pulled her chair closer, the legs scraping softly against the floor. "Give me your hand."

He extended his right hand toward her, palm up. Her fingers were cool and soft as they cradled his hand, her touch sending a subtle thrill up his arm. She traced the lines etched into his skin with delicate precision, her brow furrowing in concentration.

"Let's see," she murmured. "This is your life line." Her fingertip followed a gentle curve. "Strong and steady. You've got a lot of energy and vitality."

He watched her intently, captivated not so much by the reading but by the way she spoke, the focus in her eyes. "What else?" he prompted.

"This line here is your heart line," she continued, her finger moving to a different crease. "It shows that you're passionate and wear your heart on your sleeve, even if you try to hide it."

He chuckled softly. "Is that so?"

She glanced up, her eyes meeting his. "It is," she affirmed. "And this one is your head line." She traced a line that crossed his palm. "It suggests you're creative, a deep thinker. You like to forge your own path."

He tilted his head, impressed. "You're pretty good at this."

She smiled mysteriously. "I told you, I dabble."

Their hands remained joined on the table, neither of them making a move to pull away. The moment stretched, filled with unspoken possibilities.

"So, what does my future hold?" he asked softly.

She gazed at him thoughtfully. "That's for you to discover," she replied. "But I can tell you this—you shouldn't let others' perceptions dictate your actions."

He nodded slowly, absorbing her words. "I think I understand."

She released his hand gently. "Good."

Eddie hesitated before speaking again. "Would you maybe want to hang out sometime? Outside of the library, I mean."

Her eyes lit up, a genuine smile spreading across her face. "I'd like that," she agreed. "Maybe we can defy some expectations together."

"Sounds like a plan," he said, grinning.

As the bell signaled the end of the lunch period, she gathered her things. "I have to get to class," she said, standing up. "But I'll see you around?"

"Definitely," he replied, rising to his feet.

She gave him a small wave before heading toward the exit. Eddie watched her go, a sense of exhilaration bubbling within him. The girl shrouded in mystery was no longer just an enigma from afar. She was real, approachable, and perhaps just as interested in him as he was in her.

Leaving the library, he couldn't help but feel that this was the start of something new—something that defied the rumors and whispered speculations that had surrounded them both. And as he walked down the bustling hallway, he felt lighter, anticipation thrumming in his veins.

For the first time in a long while, Eddie Munson was genuinely excited about what the future might hold.

—-

Eddie leaned against the side of his van, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the nearly empty school parking lot. He jingled his keys absently, glancing over at her with a casual smile. "So," he began, his tone light but tinged with anticipation, "do you want to head back to my place or yours?"

She looked up at him, a playful glint in her eyes. "We can go to mine," she replied, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "That's where all my stuff is." She slid into the passenger seat, the worn leather creaking softly as she fastened her seatbelt.

"Alright then," Eddie grinned, hopping into the driver's seat and turning the ignition. The engine roared to life, and he pulled out of the parking lot with a flourish. "Y/N's house it is!"

Despite knowing the way, the five-minute drive somehow stretched into nearly twenty. Eddie missed turns, circled back, and took scenic detours down winding roads lined with towering trees whose leaves danced in the breeze. "I swear, the streets in this town change every day," he joked after the third wrong turn, glancing over to see her suppressing a smile.

"Or maybe someone's just not paying attention," she teased, raising an eyebrow.

He laughed, the sound mingling with the music playing softly from the radio. "Guilty as charged," he admitted. "But hey, more time for us to hang out, right?"

"Smooth recovery," she quipped, shaking her head with a grin.

Eventually, they pulled up in front of her house—a charming, two-story Victorian with a wraparound porch and intricate woodwork that hinted at its age. The garden was a wild tapestry of flowers and herbs, their scents mingling in the air to create a heady aroma that was both calming and invigorating. Wind chimes tinkled softly in the gentle breeze, and a few decorative lanterns hung from the porch, swaying slightly.

She unbuckled her seatbelt and gathered her bag. "Just so you know," she began as they made their way up the stone path, "my mom's probably home, but she won't bother us. She's pretty chill."

"Good to know," Eddie replied, taking in the eclectic decorations that adorned the front of the house—a mosaic of colored glass here, a wrought-iron sculpture there. "Your place is really...unique."

She smiled knowingly. "Wait until you see the inside."

They stepped onto the porch, the wooden boards creaking softly underfoot. As she opened the front door, a warm, inviting scent greeted them—a blend of spices, fresh herbs, and something sweet, like vanilla or cinnamon. The interior of the house was cozy and lived-in, with overstuffed chairs, bookshelves overflowing with volumes old and new, and walls adorned with artwork ranging from classical paintings to abstract pieces.

She kicked off her shoes by the door, motioning for him to do the same. "Mom, I'm home!" she called out, her voice carrying through the house. "I have a friend with me!"

From somewhere deeper within, a woman's voice responded cheerfully. "Oh, that's nice, dear! Do you have a project or something?"

She shot Eddie a mischievous look, her eyes sparkling. "No, Ma!" she called back, barely suppressing a grin. "We're gonna go do some animal sacrifices!"

There was a brief pause before her mother replied with equal nonchalance, "Alright! Have fun, and make sure to clean up after yourselves!"

Eddie couldn't help but burst into laughter, the unexpected exchange catching him off guard. "Your mom is something else," he remarked, shaking his head in amusement.

She shrugged playfully, ascending the staircase and gesturing for him to follow. "She likes to keep things interesting."

The staircase led them past family photos—some old, sepia-toned images of ancestors long gone, others more recent snapshots of her and her mother at various events and locations. Eddie glanced at them as they climbed, getting glimpses into her life that he'd never imagined.

They reached the second floor, and she led him down a hallway lined with more bookshelves and a few potted plants that thrived in the natural light streaming through the windows. Stopping in front of a door adorned with delicate fairy lights and a handcrafted sign bearing her name, she turned the knob and pushed it open.

Stepping inside, Eddie was immediately struck by the atmosphere of the room. The walls were painted a soft, blush pink that seemed to glow in the afternoon sunlight filtering through sheer curtains. The space felt airy and tranquil, a stark contrast to the dark, brooding aesthetic he'd subconsciously expected based on the rumors that swirled around her at school.

Plants of all shapes and sizes filled the room—lush ferns hung from the ceiling in woven macramé holders, succulents lined the windowsill, and flowering vines trailed down from shelves and the tops of bookcases. The air was fragrant with the scent of blooming jasmine and lavender, creating a serene ambiance.

Her bed was draped with a patchwork quilt in earthy tones, piled high with pillows in various textures and fabrics. A canopy of delicate gauze hung overhead, adding a touch of whimsy. Tapestries adorned the walls—one depicting a celestial map of stars and constellations, another featuring intricate geometric patterns in vibrant colors.

A large bookcase occupied one corner, its shelves crammed with books ranging from classic literature to volumes on botany, mythology, and philosophy. Interspersed among them were clusters of crystals that caught the light—amethyst, citrine, and rose quartz—along with jars filled with dried herbs, feathers, and other curiosities. Incense sticks rested in ornate holders, and the faint aroma of sandalwood lingered in the air.

Her desk was a creative haven, scattered with sketchbooks, pens, and several decks of tarot cards. An antique-looking record player sat on a side table, vinyl records stacked neatly beside it.

Eddie stood in the doorway, taking it all in. "This is definitely not what I was expecting," he confessed, finally stepping inside and moving toward the center of the room.

She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed and a knowing smile on her lips. "Oh? And what exactly were you expecting?" she inquired with a raised eyebrow.

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know—maybe black walls, candles everywhere, a cauldron bubbling in the corner?" He gestured vaguely. "You know, standard witchy stuff."

She laughed, the sound like the chiming of delicate bells. "Sorry to disappoint," she said, feigning regret. "No cauldrons here. Just a regular girl with a fondness for plants and cozy spaces."

He moved over to her bookshelf, his fingers trailing lightly over the spines of the books. "Your collection is impressive," he remarked, noting titles on subjects ranging from herbal remedies to astronomy. "Do you read all of these?"

She joined him, nodding. "Most of them, yeah. I love learning about different things—the natural world, the stars, ancient myths." She pulled out a well-worn book with gilded edges. "This one's a favorite. It's about the language of flowers and their meanings."

He took the book from her, flipping through the pages filled with delicate illustrations and handwritten notes in the margins. "You've made your own annotations," he observed.

She smiled sheepishly. "Guilty. I like to keep track of interesting tidbits or thoughts that come to me while reading."

Handing the book back, he glanced around the room once more. "I have to say, it's a lot more...peaceful than I imagined."

She tilted her head, studying him. "You thought I'd have some sort of gothic dungeon up here, didn't you?

He shrugged with a grin. "The thought might have crossed my mind."

"Well, I suppose I can see where the rumors come from," she mused, moving to sit on the edge of her bed. "People like to fill in the blanks with their own ideas when they don't know the truth."

He leaned against the bookshelf, crossing his arms. "It's easier to believe in the mystery than to take the time to get to know someone."

She met his gaze, her eyes thoughtful. "And what about you, Eddie? Are you taking the time to get to know me?"

He held her gaze steadily. "That's the plan."

A comfortable silence settled between them, the soft ticking of a clock the only sound. After a moment, she gestured toward the desk. "Would you like to listen to some music? I have a pretty eclectic collection."

"Sure," he agreed, moving over to the record player. "Mind if I take a look?"

"Go ahead," she said, watching as he thumbed through the records. "You might find something you like."

He pulled out an album with a colorful, psychedelic cover. "Pink Floyd?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "One of my favorites. Their music is so atmospheric—it's like going on a journey.”

"Excellent choice," he said, sliding the record out of its sleeve and placing it on the turntable. As the needle touched down, the room filled with the haunting strains of the music, wrapping around them like a comforting blanket.

He took a seat beside her on the bed, leaning back on his hands. "This is nice," he admitted. "Different from the usual chaos."

She smiled softly. "I like creating a space where I can just be. No judgments, no expectations."

"I get that," he replied. "Sometimes it's hard to find a place where you can just...exist."

She glanced over at him, her expression curious. "Do you have a place like that?"

He considered her question. "Maybe the old trailer I live in," he said with a wry smile. "But it's not quite as cozy as this."

"Well, you're welcome here anytime," she offered. "Consider it a sanctuary of sorts."

"Careful," he teased. "I might just take you up on that."

They shared a laugh, the ease between them growing with each passing moment. As the music played on, she reached over to the bedside table and picked up a small, intricately carved wooden box.

"What's that?" he asked, watching as she opened it to reveal a set of polished stones in various colors.

"Rune stones," she explained. "Another one of my hobbies.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "You really are full of surprises."

She held out the box to him. "Want to try? Ask a question, and draw a stone. It might give you some insight."

He took the box, gazing down at the smooth stones etched with ancient symbols. "Alright," he agreed. Closing his eyes for a moment, he thought of a question, then reached in and selected a stone.

Opening his hand, he revealed a stone marked with an unfamiliar symbol. "What does this one mean?”

She leaned in, examining it closely. "Ah, that's 'Raidho'—it represents journey, movement, and change. It suggests that you're on a path toward something new, maybe a transition or a significant decision."

He contemplated her words. "Interesting."

She met his eyes, her gaze steady. "Does it resonate with you?"

"Maybe it does," he admitted. "There's been a lot on my mind lately."

She smiled gently. "Sometimes, it's good to embrace the journey, even if the destination isn't clear."

He nodded thoughtfully, returning the stone to the box. "You have a way of making things seem less complicated."

"Or maybe I just enjoy finding meaning in the chaos," she replied with a shrug.

Just then, a light knock sounded at the door. Her mother peeked in, her eyes twinkling. "I thought you two might be hungry," she said, holding a tray laden with sandwiches and a pitcher of iced tea.

"Thanks, Mom," she said warmly, standing to take the tray. "You're the best."

Her mother smiled at Eddie. "I hope you're enjoying yourself, Eddie. It's nice to finally meet one of Y/N's friends."

"Absolutely," he replied sincerely. "Thanks for having me over."

"Anytime," she said, giving them a wink before closing the door behind her.

They set the tray on the bed between them, and Eddie reached for a sandwich. "Your mom is really cool," he commented after taking a bite. "Not every parent would be so...open-minded."

She chuckled. "She's always been that way. She believes in letting me explore who I am without judgment.”

"That's rare," he mused. "You're lucky."

"I know," she agreed. "It makes dealing with the rest of the world a bit easier."

They continued to chat as they ate, the conversation flowing effortlessly from topic to topic. He told her about his band and his love for music, she shared stories about her adventures in the nearby woods, collecting herbs and studying the local wildlife.

As the afternoon light began to fade, casting a warm glow across the room, Eddie realized how comfortable he felt. It was as if they'd known each other for much longer than just a few hours.

Glancing at the clock, he sighed reluctantly. "I should probably get going soon," he said, though he didn't really want to leave.

She nodded, a hint of disappointment in her eyes. "I understand. Time flies when you're having fun."

He stood up, stretching his arms over his head. "Thanks for today. I had a really great time."

"Me too," she replied, standing as well. "Maybe we can do it again sometime?"

He smiled brightly. "I'd like that. Maybe next time, I can show you some of my world."

"I'd love to see it," she said sincerely.

They made their way downstairs, the house now bathed in the soft hues of twilight. Her mother was sitting in the living room, reading a book by the light of a lamp. She looked up as they passed. "Leaving so soon?"

"Afraid so," Eddie replied. "But thanks again for the hospitality."

"You're welcome anytime," she assured him.

At the door, he turned to face her, their gazes meeting in the dim light. "So, I'll see you at school?"

She nodded. "Definitely. And don't be a stranger."

He chuckled. "Wouldn't dream of it."

As he walked down the path toward his van, he felt a lightness in his step. The evening air was cool, carrying the scent of the flowers that bloomed in her garden. Climbing into the driver's seat, he glanced back at the house to see her watching from the doorway. He gave a small wave, which she returned before stepping back inside.

Driving away, Eddie couldn't wipe the smile from his face. Today had been full of surprises—good ones. The girl he'd been so curious about was not only fascinating but also genuine and kind. The rumors and whispers seemed trivial now, mere shadows compared to the vibrant reality of who she was.

He looked forward to seeing where this newfound friendship might lead, eager to explore the possibilities that lay ahead. As he turned onto the main road, the stars beginning to emerge in the darkening sky, Eddie felt a sense of excitement and optimism that warmed him from within.

For the first time in a long while, he felt like he'd found someone who truly understood him—someone who saw beyond the surface, just as he had with her. And that was a feeling he intended to hold onto.

[mightiermarvel]

Shawn Michael’s Playgirl interview ft a pretty good shot ;)

Transcript under the read more:

…on the road–and I enjoy every minute of it. Being the World Wrestling Federation Champion, traveling around the world and performing for lots and lots of people is everything I ever wanted. But someday, I would like to be married, have kids, and have somewhat of a normal life. I dont know how normal I can be, but maybe I can get pretty close. 

PG: How far down the road is this normal life?

SM: Realistically, four or five years. I’ve always said that as far as wrestling was concerned, I was going to get out of the ring full time by the age of 35. 

PG: Were you the proverbial “98-pound weakling” in high school? How did you end up doing this?

SM: No, I wasn’t. I certainly wasn’t the biggest guy, but I was the biggest on our football team. I saw wrestling for the first time when I was 12 years old–the first time I got to stay up late–and it hit me just like that. I knew right away. From that point on, wrestling never drifted away from my thoughts. I continued to play football until I graduated, but it was always in the back of my mind that I was going to be the WWF Champion–champion of the entire world. 

PG: Does the idea of somebody biting at your heels, the next WWF Champion wanna-be, ever worry you?

SM: You know what? I don’t think so. I’m just confident in my ability. I don’t sweat anybody. Nobody can wrestle longer than I can, nobody can make people yell louder than me for more. And if they can, I just work harder….

PG: Does that translate into the bedroom as well?

SM: Yeah! (laughs) I’m an athlete, for God’s sake. 

PG: Many of your fans are female. What’s the most outrageous thing one has ever done to catch your eye?

SM: That would be lifting up her shirt and exposing herself to myself–and the rest of the people in the building. It was a long time ago. 

PG: Where were you?

SM: I can’t remember the location. I just remember those two very “subtle” things.

PG: How subtle were they?

SM: (Laughs) Not very. 

PG: Were they gifts from Mother Nature or did they have gravitational help?

SM: No, these were from Mother Nature, actually. But either/or–Mother Nature or with help–is fine with me. I’m pretty liberal. 

PG: Do women approach you more these days?

SM: Yes, and I like that. I like someone else breaking the ice. If I mess up from there, it’s my fault. (laughs)

PG: Tell me the last pick-up line that worked on you.

SM: I won’t repeat it, but it was very direct. She just out and out asked me. 

PG: Did she ask you out or ask you for something else?

SM: She asked for the whole kit and caboodle. 

PG: A basic “I want you.”

SM: More direct.

PG: “I want to ‘bleep’ you?”

SM: That’s the one. 

PG: Was it a kind of fill-in-the-blank?

SM: That’s what made it even funnier. It was multiple choice. Which was nice, but….

PG: It sort of took the mystery out of it?

SM: Yeah, not a whole lot of adventure or wondering there. I prefer as [continued on next page]

Text over large Shawn in a towel picture: “At the last pay-per-view event, I pulled everything down and draped the belt across me….My mom didn’t appreciate that too much”

SM:...much mystery as possible. Slow is fine with me. I’m in no hurry. My life’s in too much of a hurry as it is, and I’m way past the romping-in-the-sack-just-for-the-fun-of-it stage. Though I was fairly wild from the time I was 19 to maybe 25, 26. 

PG: Did you sow a lot of wild oats?

SM: Not a lot.

PG: One acre, two acres?

SM: Let’s just say I put enough to put a dent in it. I was never under the impression that it was a contest: that one guy was supposed to score more than the next. I’ve just never been into that. It’s not me, it’s not my family, not the way I was raised.

PG: So what’s the first thing that attracts you to a woman?

SM: There’s a bunch of first things. Hair, eyes, brains. And for some reason, I may not be the smartest guy in the world, but I always go for smart girls. Which of course gets me in more trouble.

PG: If you’re so attracted to it, maybe you like being in trouble.

SM: No, I don’t think so….I think women are just smarter than men in general–especially up here on the East Coast. But women seem to be different all around the world. It’s hard to figure it out. You get to a point where you say to yourself, I think I’ve got a handle on this and then you go somewhere else, and you realize, I don’t have a handle at all. I had one back there, anyway. 

PG: Back to the physical. What kind of hair and eyes?

SM: Brunettes first and foremost. That seems to be the pattern. Eyes…not really a color–it’s just something about them, that there’s something behind them. It’s just one of those things that has to hit me immediately. That’s how everything important has been in my life. If I don’t get swept off my feet right away, I figure it isn’t all that real. 

PG: Being the WWF Champion makes you the best-known and most popular wrestler in the world, doesn’t it?

SM: (Modestly) Well, I’d like to think so. 

PG: How do you keep that from messing with your ego?

SM: I’ve been doing this for over 11 years now, so my ego was effected more than enough in the past. (laughs) I think that I’m old enough now that I can handle it without it consuming too much of my life…I hope. 

PG: But the persona of the Heartbreak Kid, from the costumes to the sexy stage moves, seems to be an attempt to turn women on. Is this conscious on your part?

SM: It really isn’t, and it certainly didn’t start out that way. I’m more conscious of it now because more people have made me aware of it. It began as just Shawn going out in front of the crowd and playing around, having fun, showing off–and having the nerve to do something on-camera, in front of lots of people, that he certainly couldn’t do in a more private setting. 

PG: You don’t often see some regular guy walking down the street wearing Spandex pants with a heart on the crotch and one on the butt. We might think that was a bit strange. 

SM: (Laughs) Probably, yes. The World Wrestling Federation provides a wonderful vehicle for me to do something like that, but it’s amazing it’s the only place I can really do it. I don’t go out and dance in nightclubs. I can’t be that way unless I’m in front of 20,000 people. 

PG: OK, so now we know about your public performances, we’ll get to your private ones in a minute…. Do you truly understand the effect you’re having on the women in the audience?

SM: I thought I did, but it seems to be getting bigger and bigger…more overwhelming. Not just with women, but with our fans in general. It’s getting bigger and bigger every day–which is wonderful. You just don’t realize how many people who you appeal to, or who notice you.

PG: It’s a given that women everywhere love you, but since you’re so much “larger than life” how do they react when they meet you in person?

SM: A couple of years ago I didn’t seem to be as intimidating to people as I am now…that is, without trying. But I think that’s just because of where my career has gone. It just sort of comes along with the territory. I was easier to approach before when I was just Shawn out there having fun. I’d hope that would still be the case, but it seems to happen less and less. 

PG: Are they afraid of the title?

SM: I don’t know if it’s that. I mean, I welcome everything that’s going along with this, but it does seem like it’s one or the other: Either they don’t care–which is also fine–or they’re a little nervous or apprehensive about coming up because they’re worried that I might be too busy to speak with them.

PG: Or maybe that you’ll put them in a headlock….

SM: I’d like to make it clear it’s not a fear of me physically. It’s where I’ve been placed in the media, this business and everywhere else. It’s wonderful, but there is the other side to it.

PG: Are you ever worried that people are going to start liking you for what you are rather than who you are?

SM: I figure a certain amount of that happens in this or any other line of work. You have to just be careful. 

PG: Do you have a good radar?

SM: I like to think that I’m pretty intelligent, or at least when it’s happening I know when it’s happening, and if I let it, it’s [continued on next page]

Mid Bottom page block: GET IN ON THE ACTION! PLAYGIRL Magazine and the World Wrestling Federation are giving one lucky reader four free ringside seats to an upcoming WWF event! 

SEE PAGE 103 FOR ENTRY RULES AND ELIGIBILITY 

[grxmreaperx]

ive been stuck in the airport for 8 hours and awake for 29 hours so i have deleriously begun thinking of domestic Mark Hoffman on a vacation.

To me he definitley screams airport dad, he’s holding everyones passports and boarding passes, he’s weighing everyones bags , quadruple checking everyone has everything they need and the whole kit and caboodle. but on the flip side the second yall are actually in the plane in the air he becomes normal cocky Mark Hoffman again, whispering in your ear about joining the mile high club and honestly probably doing it lolllll ,, his hand permanently gripping your thigh or having you sleep on his shoulder

anyway thats the end of my delusional rambles about my fav psycho bastard <33

ok this is so fucking funny and i haven't been able to stop thinking about it since this hit my inbox so have some headcanons (might make this into a full goofy fic at some point we'll see)

first off, i hope you get some sleep soon!!

domestic Hoffman has me WEAK

he gets so stressed

"did you pack this?" "did you pack this?" "did you pack this?"

"for FUCKS sake Mark why don't you just pack?"

has to be at the airport like 8 hours early

wears the most outrageous Hawaiian shirts he can find

i have a headcanon that he dresses fairly darker on his days off (probably old band tshirts type of look) but on vacation this man would look like a stereotypical tourist

i'm just imagining you and Mark going on a vacation with all of the other apprentices (and Adam because i said so)

he's considered putting one of those kiddie leases on Adam because he always wanders off

the only person he doesn't yell at for walking too slow is John

he and Amanda are fighting because she tried to bring a knife through the metal detectors and now you're all stopped by security and he's worried you're going to miss your flight (it's four hours away)

the only people he doesn't get annoyed with are you and Lawrence (who he has put in charge of Adam)

"Amanda did you pack sunscreen for John? I don't want to listen to either of you complain if he gets burnt"

"babe i'm gonna kill them, someone is not making it on that plane."

he's internally screaming when Amanda and Adam start playing monkey in the middle with his wallet cause they're bored

"John control your children for fuck's sake"

"Lawrence would you control your boy toy my GOD"

you, John, and Lawrence are just sitting, patiently waiting to board the plane and watching Mark die a little inside

definitely said he would "turn this car around" at least once when you were on your way to the airport

once you're on the plane (and you've made sure he's not sitting next to Amanda or Adam) he's back to normal

absolutely makes a joke about you two joining the mile high club

(and you probably do if we're being honest)

will not stop whispering things in your ear just to entertain himself

Adam makes fun of you later after he saw you both sneaking out of the bathroom

you try and convince him to sleep on the plane ride but he refuses

it starts all over again once the plane lands

"babe someone is not going to make it to the hotel why didn't we just come by ourselves"

tag list: @bee-who-isnt-french, @enigmatic-blues, @kujofam, @aliengutzstuff, @mysunfishpeedinmyroom, @slut4hoffman, @schrodingersjigsaw, @hoffmansnightmare, @karmaswitch, @mrs-hotforhoffman, @returntodustsblog, @capan-deveraux2, @switchbabeeexo, @librababe99, @honimello

[theborzoiarebackintown]

My bff had work obligations and asked me to travel with Varus (the puppy’s dad) and take care of him in PA for the Borzoi Club of Delaware Valley’s speciality. He won the whole kit and caboodle, defeating almost 60 other borzoi of quality!

I love this man and am very grateful to be part of his little family ❤️❤️ it was wonderful to get to see him earn such a significant win!

[stawpny]

I’m bored and ao3 is kinda dry (atleast for the wttt ny tag)

so here are some NY ships I NEED to see more of 🙏

—

MassYork: ok, I used to be almost totally opposed to this, seeing them having more of a brotherly relationship but with history n stuff it’s kinda not possible. But anyway, probably my main ship for now, bc OHMYGOD “nobody can kill you but me”? GET OUT, GET MARRIED, PLEASE.

like if it’s Mass/Cali/York or Mass/Jersey/York I will eat it up.

no questions, it is already in my mouth. I am eating the fuck outta this.

GeoYork: in my mind they have a cute dynamic. I feel they would be best friends as younger colonies and then have a very complicated relationship until they finally get together. Slowburn kinda, also kinda they have been in relationships dozens of times but something always happens. and isn’t Georgia called the “Empire State of the South”? or am I just hearing things

peach + apple? cobbler + pie? idek but I love them

TexYork: guys pls. southern gentleman and city boy? literally perfect for each other. they would make fun of each other endlessly. accents, vocabulary, actions, plus so much more because they’re very different.

TX taking York to his ranch to meet bro’s cows??? yes please. I’d like to meet Betsy too .

^TexaCaliYork: also a fire ship (see what I did there?) like the ship above, but with the hipster in it aswell. Texas and Cal constantly bicker like children and York sorts it out like a teacher would.

NY: you hurt his feelin’s, go apologize.

TX, scoffing: fine, but don’t expect me to get along with him after.

(spoiler alert!! York forces them into a cuddle pile afterwards to get over there lifelong beef)

IlliYork: they’re enemies, they’re lovers, the whole kit-and-caboodle. they’d switch hats sometimes and hold each others hand when they’re in their cities. they’re idiots and the Midwest and the Northeast hate them for it. It’s kinda gross but in a good way.

they’d be the couple who like hold hands in public but not make a single move other than that to show that they love the other. absolutely no kissing in public, they would just sit there in silence with a death grip on the other’s hand. they would totally insult each other to the face and then say, “Love you, tho.”

FloYork: fun fact: they are absolutely insane together. They influence each other and constantly say stupid shit. Florida would force York outta his comfort zone from time to time but the inner extrovert masked by New York’s fake introvert personality will do it almost willingly. he puts up a “fight” but he would deadass do it bc he thinks this shit is hilarious.

NY would be a little like Florida even if they weren’t dating. like NYC is absolutely batshit so that would mean York would have to be a little too.

NY/CA/TX/FL/LA: little crazy, ik, but I remember reading fics abt these five (including gov, but I’m still questioning if he would be in here or not) and absolutely devouring them. spectacular ship. it’s like a little bit of everything, except the Midwest and the other western states, but almost everything. I would love to see more of them.

they would def fight over each other. (who got to hold hands with who, who got to sleep/cuddle with who, etc.)

—

I’m not forcing you to give into my opinions, but if u like these, I like you 😼

some of these hc’s are not entirely mine, some were influenced, tho most are from the rotting part of my brain

I hope u use these ships in the future or I might spontaneously combust

(spoiler alert 2!! I will still explode [out of love] if u write about them)

ily guys

[olive-schmolive]

"All my life, I've known how to angle to get everything I've ever wanted. Money, social standing, the whole kit and caboodle. See, that's how the Savage Mockingbird lives. Ever since I was a kid, it's how I've done things."

🐺 Yuri Leclerc from Fire Emblem Warriors: Three Hopes

🪡 Cosplay fully handmade by me

📸 @/allisonthephotographer on IG

Want to know how I made this? Check out my Instagram story highlights for the full build log!

[hero-israel]

I don't think pro-Palestinian people (well, the kind of pro-Palestinian people who think Hamas is justified) understand how, unless Hamas somehow manages to actually destroy the state of Israel (the IDF, the Knesset, the whole kit and caboodle), this is going to go so badly for Palestinian self-determination. We'll be lucky if large parts of Gaza won't be turned to glass, and the idea that Palestinians have the right to manage their own affairs without Israeli occupation won't be completely politically toxic for the next 50 years

Sadly yes to all of the above. They think the Jews can all be wiped out because it has happened so many times before, or that they can be French Algerian-ed into just packing up and leaving. They know a few things about history - they just don't grasp the significance of there being a wealthy, successful, very heavily-armed Jewish state in Eretz Yisrael. Nothing like that ever happened before! But they've had a lifetime to learn what it means and have failed to do so. They will now be taught.

My real-name social media feeds show only Jews posting about this at all, total silence otherwise. I guess that Harry Potter video game was just more important to the "punch a Nazi!" crowd. Well, fine. They don't get any input into how Jews defend themselves.